Rays of harsh sunlight bore down on Roronoa Zoro, dragging him from unconsciousness. His eyelids fluttered open, and he groaned as the harsh light assaulted his senses. His arms felt heavy, restrained by coarse ropes biting into his wrists. The faint smell of dirt and salt filled his nostrils, and the shadow of a massive wooden cross loomed behind him.
"What the...?" Zoro muttered, his voice rough and tinged with irritation.
As his vision adjusted, he realized where he was—or at least, where he thought he was. The Marine base courtyard stretched out before him, eerily familiar. But something felt wrong. The Thousand Sunny was nowhere in sight, and the swords at his side were missing.
"This doesn't make sense," Zoro growled, straining against the ropes. Instinctively, he flexed his arms, expecting to snap the bindings with ease. Instead, the ropes dug into his skin, refusing to budge. His eyes narrowed as frustration bubbled within him.
"What the hell?" he muttered, tugging again. A bead of sweat slid down his temple as realization dawned on him: he didn't have the monstrous strength he'd grown used to.
Zoro let out a deep breath, his mind racing. "So I don't have my usual strength. Fine." He closed his eyes, focusing his energy. A faint, blackened gleam began to envelop his body.
Unleashing a quick burst of haki. The ropes sizzled and frayed before snapping apart, sending Zoro falling forward onto his hands and knees.
He let out a ragged breath, the exertion leaving him momentarily winded. "Guess I don't have my stamina, either," he muttered, shaking his head. But a faint smirk played on his lips. "Doesn't matter. I don't need much to get my swords back."
After freeing himself, Zoro strode into the Marine base, his boots echoing ominously on the stone floor. His gaze swept over the dimly lit halls, searching for any sign of his weapons.
He moved with purpose—though his sense of direction left much to be desired. At the first intersection, he glanced left, then right, muttered a curse, and picked a path. Moments later, he found himself back at the same intersection.
"Damn it," Zoro growled, clenching his fists. "This place is a maze."
Just as he was about to try again, the sound of boots clattering against the stone reached his ears. A group of Marines rounded the corner, their weapons drawn.
"There he is! Don't let him get away!" one of them shouted.
Zoro turned, his smirk returning. "You think you can stop me? Bring it on."
The Marines charged, but Zoro was a whirlwind of movement. He ducked under one swing, parried another with his forearm, and sent a Marine sprawling with a well-placed kick. By the time the last one lunged, Zoro was already sprinting down another hallway.
"Where did he go?!" one Marine barked, looking around frantically.
Another pointed down a random corridor. "That way!"
Zoro, meanwhile, had taken another wrong turn and was wandering aimlessly down a hallway that looked suspiciously familiar.
After several minutes of navigating the confusing hallways, Zoro kicked open a door, only to find himself back at the same intersection he'd started from. A group of Marines stared at him in disbelief.
"How do you keep coming back to the same place?!" one Marine shouted, exasperated.
"It's not me; it's this stupid building!" Zoro snapped, glaring at the Marine as if it were his fault.
Another Marine sighed and pointed toward a staircase. "Helmeppo's room is upstairs, you idiot!"
Zoro scowled. "Upstairs, huh? Got it." He turned and confidently strode to the staircase—only to go down instead of up.
One Marine smacked his forehead while another threw up his hands in frustration. "Are you stupid? It's upstairs, not down!"
Zoro stopped, narrowing his eyes at the Marine. "Fine. I get it." He turned around and started climbing the stairs, muttering under his breath about the poor layout of the base.
As Zoro disappeared up the stairs, one Marine turned to his comrade. "Shouldn't we try to stop him? He's Pirate Hunter Zoro, for crying out loud."
The other Marine shrugged. "Why bother? He'll never find Helmeppo's room. The guy gets lost on a straight path."
"Good point," the first Marine admitted. "Let's just go back to our posts."
After what felt like hours of wandering, Zoro finally stopped in front of a door with a brass nameplate that read Helmeppo. His sharp eyes lit up with a predatory gleam.
"This has to be it," he muttered, kicking the door open.
Inside, the room was garishly decorated with gaudy furniture and an excessive number of mirrors. Zoro's gaze, however, went straight to the far wall, where the familiar white scabbard of Wado Ichimonji rested alongside two other swords.
A rare smile tugged at Zoro's lips as he strode into the room. "There you are," he said, his voice low and reverent. He reached out and grabbed Wado Ichimonji, relishing the familiar weight in his hands.
As he secured the other swords at his side, his grin widened. "Now it feels right." He turned to leave but paused, his eyes scanning the gaudy decorations.
"This guy's taste sucks," he muttered, shaking his head.
Without another word, he stepped back into the hallway, ready to find his way out.