Roronoa Zoro

Hanamura Island was engulfed in a pink blizzard of cherry blossoms. Roronoa Zoro, having found the perfect spot to sleep under a sprawling ancient tree, was already lost in peace when a firm voice broke his slumber.

• Wake up. You are desecrating a sacred place.

A girl with a staff stood before him, her gaze stern.

"Desecrate? I'm sleeping here," Zoro said hoarsely, lazily rising to his feet. "That's what they call 'doing nothing.'"

"Sleeping under the Mother Tree is a privilege that must be earned. Get up and leave."

"And what price must be paid?" the swordsman chuckled.

"Strength. The tree accepts only the strong. It feeds on their will. Yours... can be felt from afar. Rough, like that of a wild animal."

Zoro stood up to his full height.

• So, you want to measure your strength?

"This isn't a fight. It's a test. One blow. Parry and hold your ground—your place. No—you're gone forever."

He nodded, drawing Wado Ichimonji. The girl raised the staff, and the whirlwind of petals turned into a devastating flurry.

— "Dance of the Falling Flower: Cherry Blossom Flurry"!

"The swallow returns to the nest!" Zoro roared.

The sword strike cut through the invisible wave. When the pink blizzard died down, Zoro stood motionless. A thin streak of blood lay crimson on his shoulder.

“You... survived,” the girl whispered.

"Can I sleep now?" he asked, lowering himself back to the ground beneath the sacred tree.