This idea came to me after I had a dream in which the world had, through some strange occurrence, been greatly crippled, and society as we knew it collapsed as a result. I'm not really sure what that occurrence was, but I would imagine that not everyone in a post apocalyptic world would know HOW the world came to be that way. Anyway, enjoy the story; I'm going to have a blast writing it!

Summary: In a post apocalyptic world, Zoro is more concerned with staying alive than anything else. He'd only just convinced himself that he was better off alone, when he met a strange boy with a straw hat. And he thought he was the only survivor. :ZoLu: :SaNam:

Solitude

-DMTwins-

The streets were deserted. After almost of year of being all but untouched, those few dead that had not been immediately removed from streets and houses by grieving survivors were so far decomposed that they hardly seemed human. This was good. The less human they seemed, the easier it was for him to walk past them without looking back.

Every day, Zoro became more and more convinced that there were no survivors left. In the first month after The Occurrence, as it had come to be called, Zoro had happened across a number of survivors, both alone and in groups, both friendly, and extremely dangerous.

In the months after that, these meetings had become less and less. Some believed that there was a safe-haven somewhere, that they only had to find it, and then they, too, could disappear. Zoro wasn't stupid. There was no safe place, no far-off land, unaffected by whatever the hell The Occurrence was. There were fewer meetings with survivors, because there were fewer survivors to meet. It had been, roughly—because he had no way of counting days, and no patience to mark them off—three months since he'd last seen another living person. Only the strong survived, the rest died off.

That, he imagined, was why he was still here. Not because he was careful—though that may play a part—but because he was strong. He made certain that he didn't tie himself down with stupid things like friends and family. Friends betrayed you, family slowed you down. No, Zoro would have none of that.

There was only one person who he'd ever known that he would have been willing to stay with, and she'd been one of the many to die immediately after The Occurrence. After he'd buried her, Zoro had swiftly decided that he didn't need anyone else; he was better off without them.

It was on November eleventh, roughly one year ago, that The Occurrence had thrown his, and many others's, lives into complete hell. On this day, at the exact same time, everyone in the world—or, rather, everyone that Zoro had ever spoken with—lost consciousness. Most of them never woke up. Out of those who did, many didn't survive the week.

Some of them committed suicide, because they simply didn't want to face the new world, because they were overcome by grief, or because they believed that God had taken all the faithful into heaven and they, fearing that they had been forgotten or worse, had taken their lives instead of choosing to live on.

Of the last group, there were also those who believed that they had been forsaken, and chose to abandon their faith and their upbringing—these people constituted the groups of bandits that ran rampant in the weeks immediately following The Occurrence. They fought, killed, and destroyed everything in their path, in a blind rage against their god.

No one could live long with destruction and death as their only clothing, and these people were no different. Eventually they either returned to their faith, or simply disappeared altogether. Only a few disturbed men stayed with their new life of ruin—Zoro had run into a couple of them, and taken care of them accordingly.

Then these people disappeared as well, and the world slowly grew quiet. Only those solemn few survivors who chose to live on and cling to hope remained. They wandered alone and in groups, trying to survive and continue the human race. Some were searching for lost loved ones, others for the Haven, a rumored place where survivors were gathered to live together and rebuild civilization.

Zoro had first heard of the Haven from a little girl he'd met during his travels, back when there were still many survivors wandering the streets. She'd told him that she and her brother were going to find the Haven, together. She offered to bring him along. He'd declined. As far as he knew, there was no Haven. It was just a fairy tale that parents told their children to keep them from crying. Still, after he'd talked to her, he'd heard buzzing of the Haven from plenty of other people.

Zoro wasn't like any of these people. He had no hopes of finding the non-existent Haven; he had no loved ones to find. He didn't give a damn about the human race and its fate. There was no reason for him to continue on, accept that he didn't really want to die.

Zoro walked casually down the street, turning up the first driveway that he came across. The three katana that were strapped to his side clinked merrily against each other as he ascended the steps of the first house.

It had been a few days since he last came across a town, and he was in dire need of supplies. The only thing that remained in the bag over his shoulder was a packet of rice that he couldn't eat without water, a simple first aid kit, a lighter, and some matches.

He walked in the door, not bothering to knock, or even look around. A few months ago, he would have been wary entering an enclosed area like a house, where someone could be waiting in ambush. Now, he didn't even bother trying to be quiet. Zoro walked straight into the kitchen, and pulled open the pantry.

There wasn't a lot to choose from, but he did find a few cans of food that hadn't yet expired, and enough packets of dried food to last him a few weeks, provided that he found water to cook them with. There were no bottles of water sitting in the pantry, so Zoro turned to the fridge instead.

Taking a deep breath, he opened the door and quickly scanned the contents. Finding no water, Zoro shut the door again and stepped back before talking another breath. The room smelled faintly of rotting meat and produce, but it wasn't as bad as it could be.

After The Occurrence, anything and everything that ran on electricity stopped working. Cars refused to start, lights no longer turned on, and, consequently, all appliances stopped working as well. This confused Zoro to no end—he honestly had no idea what could cause this, or if it had anything to do with The Occurrence.

Unfortunately for Zoro, the standard icebox was good enough quality to prevent rotting even without electricity. This also meant, consequently, that after the rotting process finally began, it lasted much longer than it would have normally. After a few months of sitting in a small box filled with rotting food, even bottled water gained a strange aftertaste.

Zoro sighed and glanced around the kitchen one last time. After deciding there was nothing of any use to him, he left to make a quick sweep of the house, both to check for other survivors, and to check for valuables.

Valuables, of course, were constituted of anything that could be eaten, drank, used to treat wounds, or used to inflict them. Anything else was just dead weight. And if he ever actually found a survivor… well, he wasn't sure what he'd do.

It doesn't matter, Zoro decided as he descended the steps of the first house and continued into the one next door, it isn't like I'll find anyone, anyway. There's no one left to find.

In the second house, Zoro was pleasantly surprised when he opened the pantry to find an entire pack of bottled water sitting on the bottom shelf, and even more pleased to find an untouched bottle of bourbon sitting on the top shelf. He grabbed both and loaded them into his bag. It was his lucky day—usually it took multiple tries to find enough water and food to satisfy, and he almost never found any form of alcohol, hard as he looked.

Zoro smiled to himself, and stood, shouldering his bag and readjusting the katana at his side. Then, out of habit, he turned to wander quickly through the house. After finding nothing of interest, Zoro walked to the front door. On his way out, something caught his eye. He walked over to the front window, and pulled a small sheet of paper down from where it had been haphazardly taped to the inside of the window.

The writing on the front was hurried—eager—and hard to read. It was written quickly and, probably because the author of the note had been very excited when he wrote it, hard to read.

Annie,

If you find this, love, come to the rift. Come, and cross to the other side, to Haven. That's where I'm going, and if you find this, I want you to come, too. I know Haven is there, this thing, the Occurrence, it only affected us. If we move to a different country, we can find help—find Haven. Trust me, I know. It sounds crazy, but I know.

It wasn't signed. Zoro frowned. The writer was right—it was crazy. He almost crumpled the note up and threw it away, but decided that if this person—this Annie—actually came here, she deserved to find the note. Even if they were a fool, Zoro felt like he owed the author of the note that much.

He tromped back to the door, taking all three steps at once, and started down the middle of the street. There were abandoned cars both in the driveways, as well as crashed haphazardly on either side of the road. Every town was like this, though some were worse than others.

Making a wide circle to avoid what used to be a middle-aged man, Zoro quickened his pace. He hated the towns, and preferred to get out of them as quickly as possible. Even before The Occurrence, Zoro didn't much like cities. He preferred his own solitary house in the woods. Now, a year after the Occurrence, towns were even worse.

Towns reminded him of the past. To Zoro, here and now was all that was important, the past was worthless. If he worried about the past, he couldn't concentrate on here and now. So he tried to avoid thinking about the past—and the future, for that matter—as much as possible.

He'd been walking for only a few minutes, but already Zoro was nearing the edge of the town. It was a small town that served only as a border guard between the two countries. The Rift was slang for the official border between this country and the Grand Line, its neighbor.

Because it was so small, it was also easy to control the flow between the two countries. Before The Occurrence, there was no physical way to cross the rift accept by an official plane. Tickets were expensive, and if you tried to climb through the rift, or fly over illegally, you would be caught and imprisoned.

After The Occurrence, Zoro doubted there were still people who bothered guarding the border. Unless, of course, the rumors were true, and The Grand Line hadn't been effected. But Zoro doubted that. It was better to assume the worst than get your hopes up, only to be disappointed.

If a person kept setting themselves up for disappointment in life, pretty soon they won't see much merit in living at all.

Still, he couldn't get the message on the note out of his head. Zoro was certain that Haven didn't exist, but then, the writer of that note was certain that it did. Zoro had no hard evidence to show for his theory, so he couldn't really say that he was definitely correct in his thinking. Still, the idea of a haven seemed unrealistic at best.

Zoro sighed and took a few more steps down the street before pausing to look at the road ahead of him. In the middle of the street was a large arrow, which angled off into the trees to his right. Above the arrow was the word RIFT, below it, HAVEN.

Zoro had passed the last line of houses, and was crossing onto the road out of town. If he wanted to continue, he would have to follow the road—which ran parallel to the rift—until he found another town and another road to switch onto.

The Rift. What a crazy idea.

It sounds crazy, but I know.

Zoro frowned. He seemed so confident, the author of that note. There was really nothing wrong with trying to look for survivors, Zoro just couldn't see any reason to look. After he found them—if he found them—what then? He was a loner before, and he doubted he would be able to get along with another person, or people, for too long. Still, it sounded too good to be true: Haven.

He didn't really want to keep wandering aimlessly, simply existing. That was what he'd done until now—simply existed. Almost like he'd expected to find a purpose somewhere along his travels but never did. How long could one travel like this, living town to town with no real meaning other than moving forward. Another town, another road…

Or the Rift.

Trust me, I know.

Zoro sighed, scraping his heel against the asphalt slowly. After a moment, he readjusted the bag on his shoulder and turned in the direction of the arrow, crossing over the pavement and onto the overgrown grass along the side.

Chapter one, complete! This one is a lot of back story and build up, and the actual pairings in this story won't come until much later, but I hope you like it this far. Please review!