You had been at work in the library when a man in an ill-fitting government issue suit and tie had approached you with a package. Everyone knew what it meant, these sorts of notices weren't sent through the mail, but you were a little upset you were being notified in the middle of work. You weren't exactly fond of being the center of attention, unless it was during a presentation for the library, and even then you weren't leaping for joy at the prospect.

Your boss, an older gentleman with a slim build, an impressive afro and an exceptional love of tea came over to you as you turned the envelope over in your hands.

"Oh-hohohoho, your fate has been decided I see, (Y/N). You can take a break and review it in the back room." He offers, taking a sip of his tea. "I can watch your section for a little bit, oh-."

"But your eyes don't work anymore," you mutter with a sigh. Normally you didn't dislike his jokes, but you were in a soured mood now. "Mr. Brook, your sight is amazing given your age."

"You mustn't deprive an old man of his jokes, (Y/N)." He pouts. You often teased him for being older than most of the books in the library, but there wasn't a fleck of grey in his hair, and despite his slim build, he was in good physical condition. You wouldn't be surprised to see him performing in a circus or some other equally high energy venue.

"Mm." Smacking the envelope against your palm you turn toward him. "Thank you, I think I will go in the back and open this."

Sitting down in the mostly private back room you opened your Match Book. Match Books had a lot of information in them, part of why they were delivered by hand, and that information included things like pictures, phone numbers, addresses, work information, blood type, interests, family situations, and other bits of data to help make a first meeting go smoothly. Matches had 48 hours to meet after receiving their Match Books, and six months to arrange their weddings.

You always felt the process went a little too quickly, but it worked more often than not. Even if part of that had to do with the law itself, the punishments for breaking fidelity and the fact that there was a robust system in place to offer marriage counseling. The whole point was to make people stable enough and happy enough to bring the population numbers back up. As well as the Government could hope to facilitate such a thing, they had done a socially accepted good job of it.

Your first look at your match made your face twitch. He looked like a hoodlum! He had three piercings in one ear, a scar that was only impressive because you weren't sure how he survived getting it, and every picture seemed to have caught him with a scowl. There wasn't one image of him smiling or laughing, and he had a sword in his hand – sometimes in both hands and one in his mouth – in almost every shot.

Match Book photos were candid images, but it seemed like your match had two settings: wielding swords or sleeping.

First impressions could be poor, so you tried not to let it drain you, but you had really expected your match to, well, match you. At the risk of being cruel, you weren't entirely sure this Roronoa Zoro even knew how to read. The data did show he graduated, so he was educated. As you read more details your initial concerns melted away a little and you started to understand how you were both matched.

You and Zoro were both orphans, you had both gotten through school quietly. While your grades were higher, they weren't that much higher. You did martial arts to keep in shape, but not competitively, and certainly you could see how they'd connect that with his passion. The dojo he attended was owned by his adoptive father, and it wasn't far from where you lived and worked.

You heard a low whistle behind you and let out a long-suffering sigh. Nami was looking over your shoulder.

"I did not expect you to get matched with such a -."

"Muscle Head?" You prompt.

"I was going to say hunk, but that works." She sits down across from you, a mischievous grin on her face. "So?" Nami was looking forward to her match adamantly. Though, knowing her as well as you did you imagined it had more to do with her desire to get matched with a rich man, as opposed to any romantic reasons.

You shrug. "Match Books hardly spark a connection on their own. I guess we'll see how it goes. I'll give it a couple hours before I reach out. I don't want to contact him before he's had a chance to flip through whatever they gave him about me."

You didn't want to make too many assumptions, and you didn't even want to read the whole Match Book. There was just something too clinical about getting to know a person from a government provided dossier. You'd rather get to know him through conversation.

Time for a change of topic. "How're things going in the sea chart restoration project?" You ask Nami, pulling your eyes away from the book.

Nami smiles. "It's been a real pleasure. Thanks for telling me about it, it's the most fun I've had with old sea charts since I was a kid."

"Yeah, sorry you gotta deal with the old man."

"Oh don't be, I've already made a few thousand berries off him."

You freeze. "Nami, you did not."

"Of course I did, it's just underwear, (Y/N)."

You put your head in your hands and sigh. There's a pat on your arm as another of your coworkers, Nico Robin, is closing your Match Book for you and giving you a look that already has you worried. The older lady was still young by conventional standards, just older than you and Nami. She normally had the most impressive neutral expression on her face and in her voice, but not right now.

"Robin?"

"You'll want to go to the study desks, (Y/N). There's a young man with green hair looking through a Match Book, and, well..." She tilts her head toward your Match Book.

Your eyes go wide. "No way." You grab the Match Book and go out into the library proper, heading over to the study desks. There was no running in the library, so you were half-a-pace away from jogging.

You didn't have to look around long to catch sight of him. Green hair was pretty easy to spot. You walk toward him automatically, not really thinking about what you would do or say. Of all the places he could end up reading his Match Book, it would be your library. It wasn't like you'd spent your life looking forward to meeting your match, you had a more practical outlook on the whole thing. Something about this felt a little overwhelming though, and you realize as you are reaching out toward him that he might need space.

Stopping short of reaching him by a few feet, you stand there in silence for a moment trying to decide what to do.

"Need something?" He questions, and you feel a shiver run up your back. Match Books couldn't tell you what someone else sounded like, and his voice was pleasant, if not a little irritated at the moment. What catches you off guard the most was the fact that he hadn't even so much as twitched his head in your direction. There was no way he could've seen you, and you didn't wear hard-soled shoes, so you hadn't made any noise despite the speed in which you approached.

How in the heck did he know you were there?

"No, er, yes. I mean. I'm sorry, it was quite rude of me to approach you this way." You bow, as you usually do when giving an apology at work, and hear the chair slide across the floor as he turns toward you.

"What do you mean," he starts to question as you straighten back up, "by... that." His eyes go wide as realization dawns on him. "Gah! I thought you were at the library by the dojo! What're you doing here?"

You blink at him blankly for a moment. "But... this is the library by the dojo."