Romance-1

"Papa... Papa!" Hana's voice echoed, piercing the monotonous symphony of the desolate island.

The island was a solitary beast, drowned in an abyss of darkness. Overhead, a blanket of sullen clouds hung low, threatening to swallow the last remnants of daylight. The rhythmic crash of waves against the stony shoreline was the island's only heartbeat, a throbbing pulse that filled the air with a salty tang.

"What is it?" Zoro's voice emerged, softer than the island's harsh whispers.

"Where are we?" The innocence in Hana's question seemed out of place in the grim surroundings.

"Home," Zoro replied, his tone bittersweet. "For now."

Despite the island's gloom, Hana's eyes sparkled at his words. The corners of her mouth twitched upwards into a hopeful smile. Her small feet scurried over the jagged rocks, rushing towards Zoro. He stood still, like a lighthouse amidst the storm, ready to embrace her.

Her laughter, pure and vibrant, clashed with the island's somber timbre. Yet, it was a welcomed melody. As Hana threw herself into Zoro's arms, the world seemed more bearable.

***

Seven years ago,

Zoro, his hair as green as summer leaves, stood tall and resolute. He was dressed in a white yukata, the simplicity of its design belying the strength of the man beneath. His right hand was wrapped in a stark white bandage, the same fabric extending up to cover half his head and swath his torso. His presence was like a well-weathered rock, battered and scarred, yet unyielding.

He stood before an old Japanese house, bathed in the soft glow of the full moon. The courtyard around him was alive with the dance of fireflies, their twinkling lights painting a serene picture against the backdrop of the night. Their illumination was gentle, casting an ethereal glow on the weather-worn wood of the house.

His gaze was fixed on a window on the second floor. He stood there, still as a statue, contemplating.

Then, with the agility of a panther, he leapt. His left hand shot out, grasping the window's edge. He rapped on the wood - once, twice.

"I'm coming!" Zoro announced, his voice breaking the silence of the night.

As he moved to enter, a sword sliced through the thin curtains, missing him by a breath's width.

The curtains fell, split in half, revealing the figure bathed in the silvery moonlight. A young woman with emerald hair stood on the other side, her hand gripping a sword pointed at him.

"Hiyori," Zoro's voice was a mere whisper, a single word that fell from his lips.

The sword slipped from Hiyori's hand, clattering onto the wooden floor. Her gaze was locked onto Zoro's, a myriad of emotions swirling in her eyes.

"Roronoa-san," she echoed, his name a soft sigh on her lips

In the quietude of the night, surrounded by a galaxy of fireflies, they stood facing each other.

"What are you doing here?" Hiyori asked, her voice a mere whisper in the night. She suddenly turned away, a blush creeping onto her cheeks. "And you're alive?"

"About that," Zoro scratched his head, a sheepish grin on his face. "It's kind of awkward speaking from the window."

"Please, come in." Hiyori quickly extended the invitation, stepping back to make room for him to enter.

With a graceful hop, Zoro entered the room, choosing a spot on the tatami mat to sit cross-legged.

"What happened to you?" Hiyori couldn't help but notice the bandages that covered Zoro, her concern evident in her voice.

"I fought Luffy," Zoro replied nonchalantly. "I thought you knew."

Hiyori's eyes widened in shock, then realization dawned on her. "Umm, they said you died."

"Almost," Zoro corrected her, his voice steady.

Her brows furrowed in confusion, "How are you alive?" she asked, then quickly added, "I am happy that you are alive, just asking." She shook her head, a smile tugging at her lips.

"He ordered me to disappear and never hold a sword again," Zoro continued, his gaze distant. "He didn't want to kill one of his own."

"I knew he wouldn't kill you," Hiyori nodded, her eyes reflecting the moonlight as they continued.

A silence fell between them, thick and palpable. It stretched out, filling the room for almost five minutes. Hiyori, feeling the weight of the silence, broke it.

"Why are you here?" Hiyori asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

"I'm here to return Enma," Zoro replied, his voice carrying a note of finality. "It belongs to you."

A memory flashed before Hiyori's eyes - her handing Zoro the sword.

Zoro reached behind him, pulling out the sword - Enma. He extended it towards Hiyori, the blade gleaming in the moonlight.

Hiyori's cheeks flushed a deeper shade of red. She looked down, her voice barely audible. "You didn't need to."

She looked back up at Zoro, her gaze steady. "What do you plan to do from now, Zoro-san?"

"I'll retire somewhere peaceful," Zoro said. "I'll follow Luffy's order. It was the last order he gave me, till my death."

"No," Hiyori cried out, her voice echoing in the room.

"What?" Zoro asked, taken aback by her reaction.

Without a word, she lunged forward, her soft, warm hands covering his mouth.

"Let me speak," she said. Zoro, surprised, softened his gaze, waiting for the words she wished to share.

"From the first day I met you," Hiyori began, her voice soft yet steady, "Till now..."

"I didn't know it at that time but..." She paused, collecting her thoughts. "I was able to trust you with Enma. I thought it was just a trade."

"But over the years," she continued, her hands nervously playing with the hem of her dress, "I kept thinking of you every moment, hoping one day you would return."

"When I read that you had died," Hiyori's voice faltered, her eyes glistening with unshed tears, "I couldn't hold back my tears. I cried for months. Then I realized..."

A single tear traced its way down her cheek, reflecting the moonlight. "I love you," she confessed, her voice barely a whisper.

Zoro's eyes widened in surprise, then relaxed. He looked at her, his gaze softening as he took in her tear-streaked face.

Slowly, Hiyori removed her hands from his mouth. As she moved backwards, she turned around in a swift motion and pressed her lips against his. In the quietude of the night, under the soft glow of the moonlight, they shared their first kiss.