He can find the sea.
He's a master swordsman and a pirate to boot, he's traveled to islands in the sky; of course he can find the sea. He's on an island - all he's got to do is find the edge, right?
Zoro grits his teeth at the titters he's either hearing or imagining; doesn't matter which. He doesn't care what anyone says - he's got that little moving scrap of paper in his hand, and he's going to follow it back to the others. He stomps through the woods, twigs snapping and undergrowth tearing under his boots.
The sea should be somewhere there, through the damned trees, and now he's had enough of the waiting and fighting and the ridiculous hills and gloomy clouds and howling winds - he's going to find his way back.
That's just how it is. He's going to find the sea, build a boat or whatever you do (though he hates the thought of dulling his blades' edges on wood), and then he's going to go find his captain and the rest of the idiots.
Zoro is not a man given to introspection, and he used to travel alone, once upon a time. But right now - there is a gnawing feeling under his ribcage, something no amount of gnashing his teeth can get rid of.
He's too far away from his captain. He's too far away from all of them, and he looks at the piece of paper and he can't tell if he's still going in the right direction or not.
He stops, ignores the leaden weight of his legs - walking some more will sort that out - and glares ahead. Then behind. Then up, just for good measure.
There's gloom, and damp, and it's making it hard to see very far ahead; and - and he has no idea if he's seen this particular grove of pointy trees with needles before. There's a lot of the damned pointy trees and a lot of bloody needles that scratch your face when you duck under them and they all look the same. He starts moving again.
The little piece of paper in his palm flutters, but he can't tell if it's inching closer to wherever that Rayleigh guy might be, or whether it's the musty-smelling winds sweeping through wet branches making it move. The stupid piece of paper is the worst damn guide ever - it doesn't even have an arrow; everyone knows real maps, proper maps, maps that get you places have arrows.
He scowls at the vivre card with all the intensity he'd devote to someone interrupting his nap, but the card is an inanimate object that doesn't care at all. One that's still not doing him a damn bit of good - the ocean could still be anywhere; his nakama could be anywhere.
Usually he just - follows. Because his job is being a swordsman. Protecting his crew. Defeating worthy enemies, clearing a path through small fries - that sort of thing. To do that, he just follows the others - Nami's in charge of getting them places, and if there's fighting to be done, the fight usually finds him.
Zoro knows about maps and arrows and stuff, but he's got nakama -- had nakama. Has nakama, of course, but he used to have nakama right there that can take care of that sort of stuff. Now he doesn't. And he's not given to introspection but that's part of what that gnawing feeling is. It's wrong, being away from them. Being in this absurd place, with his body aching and slow and acting like it's forgotten all its training - it's all wrong.
And he's not given to introspection, but the sad wailing of the wind and the gray of the mist and the way in front and behind and this side and that side all look the exact same make him wish he had something strong to drink. Something to loosen the knot in his chest, something to drive away those thoughts he's not thinking and memories he's not dwelling on because they aren't going to help him find the ocean, dammit.
He forces his legs to move faster, slaps another branch out of the way, curses at the treacherous footing offered by a soggy patch of moss across a huge rock, and refuses to remember when he was much, much younger and much, much weaker and he'd had a warm place to return to that he had never found again.
That isn't going to happen now.
He has the paper, and it is bound to stop being quite so useless as soon as the wind dies down. And he has the sea all around - it had to be there; he is on an island, the sea is always there.
And across the sea is his captain and his crew and he will find them. Because this time, it isn't just something he needs - they need him, too. And as long as he lives and breathes, he will not - can not - let them down.
He will find them. Even if he doesn't know where he is, or what the scrap of paper is telling him, or even exactly where the ocean is right now, he will find them.
He stops, draws a lungful of raw air.
They will find each other.
They always do.
Zoro nods to himself, satisfied. Yes, they always do. Now, all he has to do is find the sea. And he sets of again through the gloom.