...if you can continue to live on

pairing: roronoa zoro x fem!reader

wc: ~1.3k

notes: AH thanks for the request! i had fun with this one, zoro as a soulmate is like a dream… until you get to know him?i kid i kid. i hope this is to your liking☺️?

likes, comments, and/or reblogs are appreciated :3

d - damage done to a person also translates into their soulmate’s body (cuts, bruises and all)

When Zoro acquired Kuina’s sword, he made an internal promise that this sword would see his ambition through till the end.

Not that he told Mihawk, which is probably why the older man didn’t understand why Zoro was so adamant about keeping a damaged sword. Do as you wish, he said, but he wasn’t counting on Zoro showing up to spar with a duct taped hilt.

“This won’t do.” He sighed rather irritated, later giving the rookie a vivre card with ‘swordsmith’ written in lopsided letters, “Have Perona take you, I don’t trust you to find your way back on your own.”

Zoro’s brow twitched, but he put his feelings of irritation aside for the weird tug in his chest, as he watched the tiny paper move across his palm.

“I don’t need some random swordsmith fixing my blade—“

“This isn’t a request, fix your blade or I’ll reconsider my willingness to train you,” completely unbothered, he flipped a page in the book he’d rather focus on, “And she isn’t ‘some random swordsmith.’ Brash perhaps, but I wouldn’t send you to her if it wasn’t worth your time.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

Another page flipped, “Get your sword fixed, and you’ll see.”

• • •

Zoro felt that strangel pull in his chest twice more: once when they landed on the summer island, and again when he was at the door of the shop, where the vivre card moved to. It was a tiny house along the shore, a sign ‘swordsmith’ painted in big, bold letters.

He stared at the door for a good minute, unsure about this strange feeling. He was usually good at picking up on anything suspicious, or even malicious, but this feeling was different. He didn’t feel any ill-intent, only the urge to see what was behind that door, but before he could open it—

You did. And there came that tug again, but this time it was warm, that buzzed kind of warmth he felt after downing some top shelf sake.

You weren’t sure why, but in that moment it felt right to open the front door. Maybe it was the heat of the day, your shop was like a sauna in the summer and you were dying for a little breeze. You were met with Roronoa Zoro, with a scar you knew all too well.

“Well well, what brings you to my shop?”

He knew you said, well something. His focus was on the scar curved down your torso. It started below your right collarbone, the rugged stitches disappeared into your cleavage and curved around to your hip. A sense of deja vú washed over him, like he was looking in a mirror.

“Hey buddy, eyes up.” Zoro heard a snap, which instantly caught his attention, and he saw your eye patch. A few months ago, he scarred his left eye. What a strange coincidence. “Did you even hear a single thing I’ve said?”

“Yeah. Wait, no I didn’t. Were you talking?”

“Oh, I see,” you crossed your arms, leaning on the door frame. His idiocy was pleasantly entertaining. Little did he know, you knew exactly who he was and all about your connection, you weren’t going to say anything though. Where was the fun in that? It’d be more entertaining to watch him connect the dots for himself.

“Hawkeyes warned me he sent someone my way, I wasn’t expecting a pervert. Did you need something, or were you planning on staring the whole time?”

“I wasn’t— I’m not a pervert okay? I need a sword repaired,” he grabbed the Wado Ichimonji from his side, holding it out to you, “The handle is busted—“

“Holy crap,” you snatched the sword from his hand, “Oh my… wow I’m holding a meito! Wow this is just—! Wait, how the hell did you snap the handle like this? Were you fighting a mountain or something?”

Zoro muttered, face flushed: “Can you fix it or not?”

“So demanding, and you don’t even know my first name, which is (name), if you ever planned on asking, pervert.” You held the handle up to eye level, observing the damage, “Hmm, it won’t be as simple as a repair. I’d have to make a brand new handle, but seeing how it’s a meito… did you consider retiring it—“

“No. That’s not an option.” Zoro cut her off, “If you can’t repair it, I’ll find someone who can.”

“Woah woah, I never said I couldn’t do it. It’ll take me a week, but trust me. By the time I’m done with it you’ll be able to slash any mountain you want.”

So that week, he hung around your shop because in his words, he didn’t trust a stranger with his sword. The truth was, you mesmerized him in the oddest way, more specifically, your scars. The stitch that curved down your torso wasn’t just similar to his. After being caught staring more times than he’d like to admit, he realized that it was exactly his scar. He spent his days glancing over your skin, eyes tracing the lines of your across your calves, the nicks up and down your arms, your back pristine, free of marks, just as his. There was no denying your bodies shared the same marks.

But how was that even possible? It couldn’t be.

Though… if by some strange twist of fate it was possible, it would explain the random scars that formed on his skin over the years. It didn’t happen frequently, but every so often he’d see a small scar and think, ‘huh, when did that happen?’ he never gave it a second thought.

But now, with the map of his scars displayed on another body, all of the questions pounded in his simple mind. So, in a very straightforward manner, he asked the one question that all the little questions centered around: Why did you have his scars?

And to that you sighed, with a soft smile, nodding your head towards the door, “Why don’t we take a walk.”

You two didn’t go far, the sun was about to set after all, so you chose to sit along the shore, right at your back door step, with a couple bottles of booze. The two of you basked in the warm golden light, enjoying the warm silence. He was growing a little impatient and decided to ask again.

“I assume it’s because you have no regard for personal safety. But if you’re asking how they got on my body, I couldn’t tell you. Maybe this is fates way of saying we’re connected. ”

“So what? You’re like my soulmate or something?” The two of you locked eyes—the last glow of golden sun swirled in your iris—before you cracked out a contagious laugh, making the swordsman chuckle as well. “That would be crazy.”

“Oh, completely crazy.” you agreed.

“Yeah.”

“Yeah.”

The sun was gone and left you in the fade of night with the sound of the waves dragging along the sand, the two of you closer than when you first sat, looking each other in the eyes.

“Still, we’re connected somehow. So what happens now?” he asked.

You tapped your chin in thought, before a marvelous idea popped in your head, “You could stay loyal to my business.”

“Excuse you?”

“Think about it! You’re a swordsman and I’m a swordsmith, maybe the universe connected us so I could be your personal sword repair woman. I am the best, after all.” a dangerous look—eerily similar to Luffy’s—flashed in your eye, “Okay I’ve decided! From now on, you can only come to me for repairs.”

“What? What if I’m halfway across the world?”

“Then you would obviously sail to me, it’s not that complicated.”

“Why you…” It was a ridiculous proposal, but he felt a tug in his chest that was oh so familiar, and the way you radiated with awe and determination under the pale moonlight played with his simple mind. Would he be even more ridiculous for agreeing?

What these two young souls didn’t know was that the universe doesn’t consider titles like swordsman and swordsmith when bringing people together. The universe works to connect souls, and to bring them together, but the definition of their relationship? Well, that’s something they’d have to figure out along the way.

tag list: @ochizokulevy @luffydono @bekky06 @jesssobs @spiritarchives