By midday, Santoryu Island buzzed with life. Music echoed off pastel rooftops. Fragrant steam curled through the open market. Every street overflowed with silk banners and painted lanterns. The sun blazed hot, but the village energy was even hotter. Shopkeepers wore bright capes, and children zipped through the crowds, chatting about the "Festival of Hearts," an annual celebration for courage, friendship, and the chance for new love.
Zoro found it overwhelming.
He stood awkwardly in the village square, hands on his swords and brows knitted together so tightly that locals whispered about the "strong, silent one." Nami and Robin, however, fit right in. Nami immersed herself in the festival's commerce, haggling for treats and trinkets she didn't need. Meanwhile, Robin stood nearby with her notebook, jotting down notes on each traditional dance and odd snack.
This festival differed from those back home. The "trials" began with games that seemed lighthearted and innocent. The first was a "couple's relay," where contestants teamed up with their arms bound by a bright ribbon, racing wildly around the square, splashing through flower-strewn puddles and darting under garlanded archways. Nami grabbed Zoro's arm before he could protest and tied the ribbon securely around their wrists.
"Try not to get lost, swordsman," she said playfully, rolling her eyes. "All you have to do is follow my lead."
He smirked. "That never works out well."
They raced as a surprisingly coordinated pair, kicking up dust and laughter. Zoro stubbornly resisted Nami's guidance. Onlookers cheered while she shouted directions; Zoro ignored most of them, carving direct paths through obstacles and sometimes toppling fruit stands or painted fans behind them.
They didn't win. They finished in a tumble, landing in a heap of giggling children right by the finish line. But Nami, flushed and laughing, squeezed Zoro's hand for an instant before acting as if it never happened.
Next came a trust challenge. Couples were to perform skits or sing duets on a makeshift stage surrounded by paper hearts. To Zoro's dread, Robin signed them up without asking.
He whispered, "I don't sing."
Robin just smiled. "You don't have to. Just follow my lead."
Their "performance" retold an ancient legend Robin had studied that morning—a story of a stoic warrior and a mysterious sage. Robin's narration flowed, while Zoro's delivery came off as comically flat and literal. The villagers laughed and applauded every awkward pause.
"Your stoic style suits the character well," Robin teased as they stepped off the stage.
Zoro grunted, hiding his embarrassment behind a stubborn frown. He caught Nami grinning widely, clearly plotting more mischief.
The festival's highlight was a series of games to "test fate." Villagers stood in line at fortune stands, spinning wheels or picking tokens from velvet pouches. Couples and hopefuls crowded the stalls, eager to see what fate—or the clever festival hosts—had in store.
Zoro lagged behind his friends, only half-interested until an elderly vendor called out, "You there! Swordsman! Try your fortune in the Game of Hearts. Legend says Santoryu's bravest often find more than they expect."
Reluctant but unable to ignore Nami and Robin's eager gazes, Zoro reached into the velvet pouch as instructed, pulling out a small carved token—a heart with three parallel lines etched across it.
The vendor cackled. "Three hearts! You must enjoy today's festival with the company of three companions." The merchant glanced at the growing group—Nami, Robin, and now Kaori, who appeared from the crowd with her swords slung proudly at her side. "Perfect. The tradition lives on!"
Zoro tried to protest, but the crowd swept him away. The next trial led the four of them to the festival's "Maze of Bonds," a winding mini-labyrinth filled with riddles, silly physical challenges, and occasional encounters with the island's playful red monkeys.
Their adventure through the maze turned into a comedy of errors.
Kaori, usually so composed, got flustered in a room full of scented flower petals that reminded her of childhood. Nami grew competitive, barking orders and snatching clues before anyone else could. Robin easily solved every riddle but seemed to focus more on Zoro's reactions than the puzzles themselves.
Zoro simply tried to avoid colliding with anyone, becoming the steady presence that either anchored or upset the group.
They solved the final puzzle only when Zoro, tired of all the debates, simply slashed a locked door off its hinges. The audience cheered, and the judge awarded them the "Most Determined Team" prize: matching ribbon bracelets and tickets to the festival's evening banquet.
As dusk painted the sky in shades of orange and plum, they exited the maze, laughing and dusted with petals, the ribbons bright on their wrists.
Nami draped an arm over Zoro's shoulders. "Not bad for your first festival, swordsman."
Robin linked her arm through Zoro's other side. "Santoryu is already starting to change you, it seems."
Kaori smiled, her eyes warm and searching. "The legend is just beginning."
Zoro rolled his eyes—exhausted, confused, but undeniably content. Maybe some trials weren't meant for swords alone.
To be continued in Chapter 8, Festival of Hearts (Part 2)…