The Swordsman and the Blacksmith (Roronoa Zoro x Reader)

Chapter 1: The understatement of the century

To say Roronoa Zoro was intrigued would be the understatement of the century. The straw hats had arrived at the peaceful island the day before. It was by far the most boring island they'd visited on their voyage. The small port town was serene, seemingly untouched by the chaos of the outside world. It was a refreshing change of pace for the crew after the usual turmoil of their adventures. They'd decided to spend a few days on land while the log pose set the way to their new adventure. They'd relax a little, take the time to stock up on provisions and perhaps even enjoy a bit of leisure time.

At first he'd thought it was a fluke. He'd been seated at the bar when the bar tender whipped out a black bladed knife to cut a lemon. It couldn't be, could it? And yet as he continued to examine it from afar, the more certain he'd been. It was most definitely a haki infused blade. His eye had narrowed as he'd taken in the old pudgy bar tender. No. He was normal. There was no way he'd infused the blade with haki. Whatever. He'd given up on the mystery for the night. He was here to drink, it didn't matter.

It was the next morning as he reluctantly accompanied the silly cook for his errands that the mystery hit him again. The merchants were all using haki infused tools. Hell, even the farmer they'd crossed was raking with a haki infused rake. This should in no way be possible. It took years of battle for haki to infuse permanently with a blade. One was a fluke, there was an insanely small probability that maybe a kitchen knife could be infused with haki through generations. But this? This was not a fucking fluke. He'd felt something drop in his stomach at the realization. There was someone on this island infusing every scrap of metal they could find with haki.

The sudden awareness of the sheer amount of haki infused objects on the island ignited Zoro's curiosity like a blazing fire. He had to know. That evening, he asked the bartender. "Oi, that blade. Where'd you get it?"

"Oh, this old thing?" The portly man answered casually, as if it were the most ordinary knife in the world.

Zoro nodded encouraging the old man to continue.

"The witch made it," he chuckled.

"Witch?" he asked incredulously.

"Well... She's not exactly a witch. It's just how the children refer to her," he laughed heartily. "I bought this knife from our resident blacksmith. She can be a bit abrasive, but you won't get a better knife anywhere else." The old man twirled the knife in his hand, a fond look in his eyes. "I've had this one for years now, never had to sharpen it once. It's just as sharp as the first day I used it."

"Huh," Zoro grunted in response.

"That's right! They're really amazing! If you want one of those, young man, you should go up the mountain to see her," an older lady joined in to the conversation.

"Yes! It really is a must! You won't find anything else like it," another middle aged man sitting next to him added. "She always has a few good knives in stock."

"She might chew you out though," a younger woman added behind his back. "You never really know with her. It's always a fifty-fifty chance," the whole bar laughed at the comment. Clearly invested in the conversation. Comments and funny stories about their interactions with the 'witch' flowing through the tables.

"Up the mountain, huh?" Zoro muttered more to himself than anything.

"Aye, lad," the bartender answered him. "But heed that warning. With her you never know whether she'll sell you the knife or throw it at you." Another wave of laughter went through the bar. Acclamations of 'that's right!' and 'true, true' in agreement flowed around him.

"I'll keep that in mind," He downed his drink, a half-smile quirking his lips. He'd decided he'd find this 'witch'. He had questions and he would get answers.