A Heartfelt Toast

The atmosphere of the banquet quickly reached its peak under the influence of alcohol and delicious food.

The guild members gathered together, tearing into meat and gulping down drinks, singing arm in arm. The entire guild hall was immersed in a sea of joy.

And the unquestionable star of this banquet was Roronoa Zoro.

This time, no one approached him out of curiosity or a desire to test him. Everyone who came to him carried sincere admiration in their eyes.

The first to approach with a cup in hand was Gray Fullbuster.

His face, usually carrying a trace of coolness and unruliness, was now filled with solemnity. He stopped before Zoro and took a deep breath.

"Zoro," he began, his voice low and firm, "this time... we owe it to you. In that mine, if it hadn't been for you, we might really have died in there."

He raised his cup and looked directly into Zoro's eyes without the slightest hesitation.

"I formally apologize for all my previous disrespect and provocations. I admit it—you're far stronger than I am!"

With that, he tipped back his head and drained the strong liquor in one gulp, not leaving a single drop behind.

Zoro looked at him. This exhibitionist who was always arguing with that pink-haired brat was now showing an unexpected frankness and sincerity. Zoro said nothing, merely raised his own cup and emptied it in one go as well.

This was the most direct way for men to communicate. One gesture spoke louder than a thousand words.

After Gray left, Lucy also approached with a flushed face, timidly holding a glass of juice.

"Um... Mr. Zoro, thank you," she said softly, her voice filled with gratitude. "When the curse was at its strongest, you... protected us with that thing called Haki. That feeling... was very, very warm and reassuring."

She remembered that invisible "safe zone" in the cold, gloomy darkness, which had kept every danger at bay, as well as that dependable back walking at the very front, steady as a mountain.

"Please take care of me from now on too!" After saying that, she nervously finished her juice and ran off as if fleeing for her life.

Zoro watched her retreating figure in confusion, but still picked up his cup and took a sip.

The most surprising one, however, was Natsu.

Ever since the banquet had begun, that battle maniac had been wrestling with an enormous dragon leg, roasted until it sizzled with oil. Now, he finally let out a satisfied burp, then hugged the dragon leg, which was taller than he was, and staggered over to Zoro.

He still wore an unconvinced expression, muttering, "Tch, you just cut up some lousy necklace. What's so impressive about that? Next time, I'll use my flames to burn that annoying curse to ashes!"

Though he said that, he bumped Zoro's shoulder with the dragon leg in his hands, then offered him the most fragrant, tender portion of the roast.

"Hey, moss-head, this is for you!" In his own unique way, he expressed his approval. "You... you're pretty strong! I admit it, you count as a companion I recognize! But sooner or later, I'll surpass you!"

Zoro looked at the huge slab of roasted meat before him, then at Natsu's face. Though he was clearly still unconvinced, his eyes were full of sincerity.

He fell silent for a moment, then reached out, tore off a huge chunk of meat, and stuffed it into his mouth.

"Yeah. Tastes good."

"Of course it does! I grilled it!" Natsu immediately puffed out his chest proudly.

Though Zoro remained a man of few words and his expression was as aloof as ever, his heart was quietly moved by these sincere, untainted thanks.

He thought of the Straw Hat Crew's banquets after every great battle. Luffy would steal his sake, Sanji would curse at him while serving him the best dishes to go with alcohol, Usopp would brag about his achievements, and Chopper would look at him with eyes full of admiration...

The scene before him gradually overlapped with those memories.

Though the world was different and the companions were different, this burning bond—formed through life-and-death struggles, sitting together to share victory and joy—was so similar.

He looked at this noisy, scatterbrained, yet incomparably real group of "family." The heart of a swordsman, hard as iron, softened as never before.

He raised his cup toward the boisterous crowd and drained the strong liquor in a single gulp.