Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Zoro’s eyes are wide. 

Nami shrieks.  

The crew watches, frozen in place.

A katana is driven through his side. 

“Cook?”, Zoro wheezes, blood dribbling down his chin. Soaking his black robe. 

He blows smoke, “Sanji’s gone.” 

And of all things that he could do, hit him, kill him, Zoro scoffs, “That bastard’s too stubborn to die.”

~ * ~

The ship is painted orange, and Nakama’s horror-stricken faces might be the last thing he sees. 

His ears are ringing, his head is heavy, he can’t move, no, he doesn’t want to. The orange flame, beautiful and destructive, hurls towards him.

He closes his eyes. 

A good chef can’t be afraid of flames   

He hears the chime of earrings. 

A good nakama doesn't let his nakama die

a flash of green is picking him up, flames curling over his back. 

The burnt straw hat elegantly sways in the breeze before falling to the ground and burning into ash.

~ * ~

“Stay back.”, he growls because the gentle aching emotion swirling in the silver eye is making his arm tremble, forcing his heart to race in his chest. 

“ZORO!” A hoarse voice yells, a fist is pulling back so far it’s a speck and he feels a demented sense of relief as he closes his eyes. 

But he hears a yell, the fist hits the ground as something drives into him. 

When he opens them again, the swordsman is above him, the katana’s hilt against his hip, the blade sticking out of his back and his whole side slick, blood painting his chin and neck crimson. 

“Sanji, come back.”, Zoro begs, voice trembling, eyes determined, strong arms are suddenly wrapping around him, head resting into his shoulder in a desperate embrace, the pungent smell of sweat and burned flesh and blood wades around the remains of Onigashima but he focuses on the scent of sake and steel. 

Why? 

Why does this feel so important? 

Why is his chest hurting? 

Why are his eyes wet? 

Why is he hugging him back? 

~ * ~ 

Sanji hears waves crashing against wood, feels the sun on his skin and seagulls in the sky and he thinks that everything is normal. 

Maybe it is. 

His heart beats hopefully. 

He opens his eyes and sits upright. 

Zoro’s back is mangled, burned beyond redemption. The skin is pink, and dark and charred and gut-wrenching as Sanji’s eyes land on the bit where his torn robe is still sticking to it. 

Scars on the back are a swordsman’s shame 

 Zoro looks at the remains of the ship. He sees Sunny's head floating in the wooden debris. 

Between them the few scarce supplies are scattered in their modest boat. 

Robin’s Book. 

Chopper’s Medical Kit. 

Usopp’s Goggles. 

A Piece of Luffy’s Hat

Nami’s Tangerines. 

Brook’s Burnt Violin. 

There’s some dried meat. 

Sanji’s eyes traveling back to the swordsman’s slick hair, no, his tattered clothes cling to him too-

Sanji blinks. 

No way. 

Did the idiot actually dive back into the sea? 

Sanji’s skin crawls at the thought, at the salty water burning his raw skin-  

Zoro looks back at him, “You’re up.” 

“Yeah.”, Sanji mutters, vision blurring with tears as he runs a thumb over the piece of the hat, " I shouldn't be.” 

“They won’t be either.” 

Sanji looks up, “What?” 

“Whoever did this.”, Zoro turns, brows pulled in a sneer, “I’ll find them, I’ll end them. ”, he snarls, grip tightening on a bottle of cola. 

“Marimo-”, his voice catches uselessly in his throat, what does he say? What can he say? As the man who burned Zoro’s back, as the failure who couldn’t grab anyone, not a single one and dive into the sea despite years of doing it on instinct. 

How is he supposed to tell a man with a lifeless eye that they’re supposed to live?

“We should...move on…together-”

“You can Cook, I'd rather die killing them.” 

“They killed everyone, they almost killed us, what makes you think you stand a chance?!” 

"I'll…", Zoro's eye is suddenly hazy, "I'll…" 

Sanji frowns, "Zoro?" 

Zoro's head drops and he lurches to the side. 

"ZORO!", He barely manages to catch the man before singed skin meets the salty sea again , he would have saved him, but he wouldn't have able to stop the pain- 

"Oi idiot, you better not die!" 

"M' just tired shitty-cook…dont…dont say my name like that ", he mutters,  the last bit of his speech muffled against Sanji's shoulder, he turns his head to peer up at him again, and his expression is lax, almost blissful. 

Something's wrong, very fucking wrong, his gut churns and his heart beat thunders in his ears,"H-how long was I out?" 

Zoro's eye droops shut, Sanji shakes him, "huh?...three…days." 

"Three days?!" 

Zoro's been holding him self up by stubbornness fucking alone for three hole days? His back burnt to a crisp and a kind of pain that Sanji doesn't even want to think about- 

"S' fine.", Zoro mutters, trying to push himself back up again. 

Sanji's hand on his shoulder stops him. 

"I'll look for danger Marimo, rest." 

Zoro liked sleeping on his back. 

Watching him tussle and huff uncomfortably on his front is heartbreaking in a smaller way, like a small rock hitting a huge glass window, small only in size but not the damage it inflicts . 

Sanji rummaged through Chopper's Medical Bag, finally finding a pain killer. 

"Take it." 

"No." 

"Don't be a child-" 

"What if…", Zoro's voice trails off, expression hauntingly clear as he bites into thin pressed lips.

Fear. 

"What if I don't wake up…?" 

The anger that swells inside of him is enough to make the world burn, anger at their deaths, at their horrible circumstances and Zoro's breaking spirit, "Do you trust me?" 

Something flickers in Zoro's eye and his lips pull into a small smile, "You'd put me to sleep for good." 

Sanji huffs, "You're all I have left, I'd be an idiot to get rid of you." 

The smile is gone, fleeting and hopeful, leaving his infamous straight face. 

Zoro eats the pill without another word. 

~ * ~ 

It felt like falling into the ocean at night, bound, hopeless, dead. Let the waters of dread seep into his heart 

This feels like swimming to the surface, waves glimmering hopefully under the moonlight. 

He feels everything at once, his crew’s hopeless gaze, his Captain’s seething rage, the strong body enveloping him and an unspoken fondness between them. 

“Marimo?”, he whispers. 

Zoro looks up, eye wide, “Cook?” 

~ * ~ 

Zoro makes him eat all the tangerines, Zoro watches him sleep at night, counts his every breath, Zoro forces him to live with an unrelenting steel grip that feels more tight than a noose. 

He wraps Zoro in bandages, he holds out the flask of clean water until Zoro takes it, ignoring the pain thrumming through his arm, he calls Zoro’s name whenever he’s sinking into his thoughts again. Forces him to live with gentle touches and a softer voice, a bird chirping, reminding him of the next morning’s dawn. 

Zoro leaves him on the dock of a small village, eye hollower than a skull’s, “I’ll come back for you. We’ll find All Blue, we’ll meet Laboon…”, Zoro’s voice cracks, something begins swirling in his eye but he closes it, forcing any semblance of emotion into his submission again, “ Don’t die.” 

And Sanji bites into his cigarette before hugging him, “I don’t care about anything, just promise you’ll come back Marimo.” 

And he swears he feels something wet soak into his shirt as Zoro’s hands scrunch up the material. 

“I promise.” 

~ * ~

Sanji looks down at his torso, at the katana he’s driven through the  Swordsman, “w-what-” 

“It’s fine.”, Zoro holds his shoulder, eases his fingers off the hilt, smiles, teeth bloodied, and face pale, yet brighter than a thousand suns, “You’re back.” 

~ * ~ 

Weeks turn to months, months turn into a year.

He learns that the island is called Achambha and hates that he never got to tell the Swordsman, 

He settles in the village, the best he can, works in a restaurant and sees his Nakama for fleeting moments. 

Sees Chopper in a smart toddler named Ayabee. She’s brunette too, her voice small at first but boisterous when he gives her sweets and listens to her ramble about how she helped her Sick Grandma.  

Sees Brooke in a elderly musician. His laugh is a low wheeze but there’s just as much life in his eyes. An appreciation to have an audience, to have a friend in a lonely world. 

Sees Robin in a quiet librarian. It's a man with stringy blonde hair but he has the same small smile. A quiet voice, that’s closer to a rasp and a curious glint in his eyes. 

Sees Nami in a stern banker. She’s old but confident, with bright pink lipsticks and even brighter outfits, a smile confident enough to steal any man’s heart. 

Sees Franky in an old mechanic, a feeble old man, who hires all the local goons to give them something productive to do, his vice is milk tea. 

Sees Luffy and Usopp in a brave boy and his cowardly friend. Pratting about how they saved a blind old woman from getting hit by a car, or stole some meat from a cheap pirate’s plate and barely avoided his blade.  

Sees Jinbe in the town’s old guard, middle aged, dark hair streaked with gray, a former criminal grimly determined to make up for an eternal debt, scarred, probably dying but unrelenting when it comes to protecting his friends, the respect the town holds for him is unrelenting too. 

It’s uplifting and heartbreaking all at once, a ray of hope before the crushing hit of reality. 

Ironically he picks up on drinking and slowly works out smoking, the subtle sooth of nicotine not enough to satisfy his need of blacking out before his thoughts screech every night. Before he sees a hollow gray eye sticking out of a mangled, bloody, body. Once a man, now nothing more than a calamity. 

He doesn’t think about how it’s becoming a last reminder of his only alive friend, he does not because that’s pathetic . 

Sanji collects every fleeting news he can. When the locals ask, he simply states he’s looking for a friend. They're confused but don’t ask more. 

He opens the newspaper and sees thousands of dead marines and one demonic swordsman standing above them all, his katana driven in the Captain’s skull, his scarred eye flaming and an aura of multiple arms around him. 

Ashura 

His mind supplies and dread settles in his stomach.

The headline makes him want to puke. 

Roronoa Zoro. 

Marine Hunter. 

~ * ~ 

“Zoro.” 

Zoro is leaning against his usual spot on the Sunny, the night air blows his hair, a thick bandage is wrapped around his torso, a new scar forming on his hip. 

After sailing out of the turbulent waters of Wano, the crew has a rare moment of rest. 

Zoro opens his eye, peering up at Sanji. 

“You promised you’d kill me.” 

Zoro frowns, “Only if you were gone.” 

Sanji glares down at him, leg itching to kick, “You didn’t know that idiot!” 

Zoro grins again and Sanji hates [loves] how brazen it is, “I knew you wouldn’t kick the dust so easily Cook, shit, you’d kick it so hard, it’ll spit you back out again.” 

And he settles again, shuffling so his legs stretch out and cushions his head with his arm and closes his eye.  

Sanji lights a cigarette with trembling hands, inhales it deeply and blows into the night. 

“Thanks.” 

“Anytime Curly.”

Chapter Text

He stops drinking, the idea of being sluggish and off guard even for a moment is too haunting. 

He has no one left to save or protect, he only runs on the instinct to scavenge whatever’s left of himself and go back to him, to golden blonde hair and leather loafers and twisting trail of smoke and the lingering scent of herbs he could never wash out of his shirts. 

Ironically, he starts smoking, the anxious churn of his thoughts, fast drumming of his heart and shallow breaths only soothed by a deep inhale of smoke, he can barely breathe right without a smoke. 

It’s not a last memory of him, no , that’s weak . 

~ * ~ 

“Who killed the Strawhats?” 

Morgan squaks, finally acting like a bird when Enma rests against his pristine white feathers, beads of sweat make them unpleasant, stick against his temple, “It is genuinely a tragedy Roronoa, I never found out-” 

“Bullshit!”, Zoro growls, katana pressing dangerously closer, Morgans gulps, beady eyes darting to look at the mess around them. 

The World Economy Newspaper Hub is in chaos, it should be, Zoro’s been tracking the damn place for weeks, reaching minutes after the air balloon has taken off. Now the employees stomp all over their precious files and papers as they flood outside of the door. 

Zoro cut through said balloon for the troubles it gave him.

It was satisfying, watching the air hiss out of it and Morgans turn paler and paler with each passing second, his employees screaming at their witty boss for instructions while he stood wordless. 

“Did the Marines tell you to keep your beak shut? Cause the Marine’s aren’t the ones who can slit your throat any second.”, Zoro hisses, impatient, jaw clenching so hard his teeth might crack. 

“It doesn’t matter what those brutes say, I get threatened by marines and pirates alike,  I always report the truth.” 

Zoro glares at the bird, face lax but eye sharp with the warning of doom. 

The bird sweats, his legs tremble but his eyes don’t leave Zoro’s. 

“If you’re lying, kill yourself before I find you, It’ll be more merciful.” 

In the next morning’s news he spots the headliner when passing an old lady seated on a bench.  

Roronoa Zoro ‘Marine Hunter’ Tries To Kill ‘Big News’ Morgans 

~ * ~

He ends up collecting bounties again. Left with scraps after getting used to the cozy nights on the Sunny is more pestering than he likes to admit, actually having to think about food and finance and keeping his small boat in decent shape. 

It’s not hard by any means, he’s done it before, but absolute darkness is somehow darker after seeing the light. 

But he’s not used to it. 

He might never be used to it, maybe he doesn’t want to but his attitude towards the job won’t change the harsh fact that it needs to be done. 

It’s a strain he puts himself through without necessarily thinking he deserves any of those things. He could get by for a bit, but one day his body will feed on itself and his brittle boat will sink in his sleep, one day he’ll end up auctioning his swords for a meal and these small pesky jobs may be one of the last things between him and that. 

He has a scratchy beard and his hair’s grown longer but he doesn’t feel different, other than the fact that shaving is near the bottom of his priorities, after finding the bastard killers and food and shelter, he doesn’t feel wiser or more reckless, he feels the same dreadful hopelessness he did as he watched the Sunny’s Lion Head sink into the sea.  

He tries not to feel anything. 

It’s easier when the pirates are plundering and looting towns, abusing people weaker than them. 

The townsfolk murmur his name, his crew’s name, they look at him like an enigmatic beast. Dangerous but not towards them, yet , like he could charge at them any second like a bull. He doesn’t care because they scurry out of his way like ants and give him free smokes and food when he steps into any restaurant. 

Well they try, he pays when he can. This puzzles them but he doesn’t care, a blond, curly browed idiot’s voice is shrill when it rings across his skull, chiding him for being impolite and rude. 

He tries not to feel anything, hunting down other crews. 

He fails. 

Especially when a teenage swordswoman stays back to let her crew get away, blue eyes burning with passion and determination, dark choppy hair blowing in the wind,  when her Captain comes running back and tries to punch Zoro in the face. 

Zoro uses the back of his sword. 

He finds himself doing that more often. 

Especially when they’re young, glowing with young and hope as he is hollow and drone. 

He tells himself he’s saving them from the pain that he knows. 

But he sees their dreams die, fade out of their eyes when the cuffs link around their wrists. The Captain sobs and the swordswoman's eyes are hollow-

Zoro destroys the station. 

Zoro pulls the 5 old officers out of the rubble and uses his bounty money to get them treated.  

He knows his excuse is weak. 

After that he only attacks kids like them when provoked.

He hides his face with hats and scarves and masks, wraps his head in a bandage, anything he can get his hands on, his katanas hidden under his long jacket. He thinks about dying his hair but it feels wrong, it feels like turning his back on a fight, like accepting the world’s unfair judgment, so he doesn’t. 

The smaller bases don’t hesitate, paying up immediately but Zoro hears them calling back up as soon as he steps out of the doors, they’re always pale, sweaty, gasping for air like he’s a Reaper who snatched it away when he walks into any room. They run out, guns loaded, eyes weary but by then he’s already gone. 

He tries not to kill the Marines that pay him. 

But they make that hard for him. Threatening to end him, that’s their job but then they’re disrespecting his crew, calling them weak, worthless, a crew with all the attention but nothing that’s worth it, evil, punks, good riddance,  and something curdles in Zoro, deep and burning and hateful and any shred of mercy left in him is gone. 

He leaves the money though. 

It’s something. 

A drop of good in a sea of evil. 

His sense of good and bad is murky, gloomy and useless like the rivers in Kaido’s Dreadful Wano. He tries, he wavers but he tries, he tries and fails but he tries, the last beautiful string in the violin of his morality is that he tries, even if his strings screech in the demented tune of revenge more than the sweet symphony of mercy.  

~ * ~ 

Swordsmen are graceful: cutting their opponents in long merciful strokes, a splatter of crimson, a tragic painting, a courageous victory.

These men are after him. 

There’s no honor. 

It’s not a battle. 

It’s a hunt. 

He’s a Butcher: blades clad in haki ramming into spines and ribs, pulling out with destruction, puncturing lungs and organs, watching his opponents choke on their own blood, eyes begging him for the numb release of death, left eye open and a flaming red. 

The sound of victory is silence. 

The click of his katana sliding into his sheath. 

The last strained breaths of his enemies. 

The demon inside of him seeths, still hungry for blood, still angry for his loss. 

Zoro’s steely eyes looking down at a man pressing his palms into a mangled throat. A twisted grin spreads slowly across his face. 

Zoro steps on the man’s chest as he walks away, black coat swaying in the wind. 

A sense of humanity comes from guilt, from feeling it weigh him down, a shackle wounding around him like a python, heavier and tighter  with every swing of his blade. 

Standing atop a sea of blood and splayed bodies, he feels nothing. 

“Roronoa.” 

Zoro looks up. 

Golden eyes look down at him, perched on the fallen marine base, in character with his name, a frown forms on thin lips, his coat blowing in the wind, the strongest blade glinting in the sunlight. 

Zoro grins, teeth clamping on Wado and pulling out his two blades. 

“You’ve gotten weaker.”, Mihawk snarls, “I only fight swordsmen.”

And he’s turning away. 

Zoro feels something twisting and gaping inside of him. 

Pain.

Humanity comes from dread, from his heart racing and his blood rushing when he sees thousands of marines spread across his escape route.

Now? 

Now he grins. 

~ * ~

“Who killed them?”, He demands, ignoring the earth shaking underneath his feet and the meteor falling towards them, an impending shadow of doom, blocking out of the sun, ignoring the squelch of blood soaked mud, the horrid smell of dying men. The marines run, carrying a small number of injured, most of them dead, soon to be buried under rubble.  

Fujitora frowns, “What can you do, even if you know?” 

Two heads form behind his, his arms duplicate, his left eye glows, purple like poison, he hears the clatter of swords falling to the ground and it’s satisfying, fear is so sweet, like blood for a vampire or watching heaven burn as a demon, his lips curl into a grin,  ”Answer me and you’ll see.”

He’ll make rivers flow with their blood. 

He’ll make them live, suffer for as long as he can, cut enough to hurt but not to kill, so they crave death like a peaceful release.He’ll find a way to tear through their soul in hell-

Silence. 

Fujitora’s thumb flicks open his Katana. 

Zoro charges.

~ * ~  

Blood sluggishly pours out of his chest, ironically, it's pleasantly warm against his cold skin. His head pulses unpleasantly, his temple purple and swelling but at least his thoughts are muddled, the only redeeming quality in his damned situation.

He feels weak, the kind of weak that'll crumble into ash if they poke him. But he's awake, so cursed that he can't sink into the peace of darkness when he needs it. Forced to look at the dark pool gathering at his feet. 

Maybe after all these years he's managed to bleed an ocean. 

The marines snicker, "This guy killed our best? He was too big of a coward to die with his crew, got taken down by one bullet." 

The bullet had pierced through his chest, torn through flesh and muscle and God knows what else in a beautiful and chaotic spray of blood and he had crumpled with all the grace of a collapsing mountain, a demented reminder of how fragile he still is, how useless he still is. 

The room is dark, lit by torches by the door, filled with the swirling pungent smell of blood and puke, swirling into something that smells like despair. 

After all these years part of him numbly wonders if he wants to drown himself in it . 

He doesn't even try to lift his head, why should he? Why did he in the first place? If this is what it came to, this pathetic death. If he knew he’d die like this, he would have stopped Luffy from stepping in front the barrage of Captain Morgan’s Mens’ Bullets, at least he didn’t back down on his word, he would have asked Mihawk to cut deeper on the Baratie, he would have died chasing his dream and he would have pridefully died on Thriller Bark, laying down his life for his captain, for his crew, at least he would have died knowing he saved them, at least he would have died believing they’d achieve their dreams. 

"We don't even have to hurt him, he'll bleed out on his own." 

"Yeah but…", beady eyes look at him with scrutiny, a worn face smiles sadistically, "He's killed so many of our Nakama." 

Nakama 

It means something. 

Something as important as each weak breath he inhales but his sluggish mind can only echo a delightful laugh, a violin, a pen scraping against an expanding map, the rustle of a page being turned, the click of a hoof-  

A hand roughly grabs at his chin, forcing him to look into brown eyes, “It could be fun.” 

 A punch drives into his gut and he doubles over, blood dribbling down his chin and he chokes on his own damp breath. 

The man clicks his tongue, "He's already dead, there's no point." 

"The legendary Straw-Hats huh? The reckless group that the Fleet Admiral thought will take a war to take 'em down and this is what's left of them." 

They turn to leave, "There's still one more." 

Zoro's throat dries. 

"Ah? The Vinsmoke right? He'll probably be harder, I hear they're bullet proof." 

The demon growls into his ear. Hissing in the thick air swirling around them, cackling in the tension singing the air. Burning in the molten blood bubbling in his veins, burning with the ironic desperation to live and kill. 

Let me out 

Zoro closes his eye. 

And they'll never reach him 

“You won’t touch him.”, a voice growls, his own, low and savage. 

They turn. 

He pulls the chains out of the wall. 

~  * ~ 

He wakes up on a boat but stubbornly keeps his eye closed, maybe he'll go out again. He hears the sound of waves crashing into it, feeling nauseous despite its familiar sway.  his head throbs with the effort of remembering. 

His chest feels like something pierces into it every time he breathes, he feels his own blood, sticky against his skin. 

He smells fire.

His eye snaps open. 

His boat sways slowly, further and further away from a burning marine base. 

He strains himself to think but his memory is a haze of an inferno of rage: swinging swords and blood pooling out of pristine white uniforms and for the first time in years he feels sick. 

Most of them were just doing their jobs. 

Was he always this brutal? He doesn’t remember being this brutal but right now he can barely remember anything, much less memories he’s locked away with the ache to have a family again. 

Something glints along the shores.  

A submarine circles the base,  bright yellow almost as painfully bright as the sun,  a tall figure in dark clothes disappears into thin air. 

Zoro shakes his head, he’s not falling for the stupid illusion, why would he be here. Zoro probably just wants to meet someone he can trust again. 

He drifts off again, darkness closing around the beaming, relentless sun. 

~ * ~ 

Is he dead? 

Is he alive? 

He feels like shit either way, it’s a pain to even twitch his toe, he gave up on the bleeding a long time ago, not caring for the uneven useless stitches that have only slowed the blood and not stopped it. He doesn't care for the now wrinkled and sweaty bandage he’s managed to wrap around himself. 

He feels worthless, the feeling sinking deep in his bones, in his drooping eyelid that a more primal part of him begs to keep open, why should he even bother? 

 No one knows who killed them. 

No one even claims to have done it for glory because they’re terrified of him. 

No one even says their names. 

He’s  a bad omen. 

He’s happy with that, knowing that the killer will see him when the Reaper comes for him. 

He’s angry at himself, he’s destroyed their legacy trying to protect it, now they’ll see a green haired demon, snarling and growling, never letting them see the world’s kindest smiles. 

After months of cutting down everyone in his path, driven by an endless pit of anger and despair, he’s still as lost as he was before. 

Maybe the Cook has left. 

So eternally disappointed after being saved by a sociopathic killer, wanting to forget that he ever had any ties to him, start a new family, find the All Blue, and be happy. 

He knows he deserves it because his name hasn’t reached the Heavens. 

It’s whispered through the Chambers of Hell. 

Yet that doesn’t stop jealousy from curdling like molten lava in his veins.

~ * ~

It's been almost two years. 

The news has died out. A few months ago they were speculating if he’s been caught, if he’s been recruited, in the end they declared he was probably dead. 

Telling Macaco and his tepid friend Vegter stories about a Wandering Swordsman hurts more every time and now he wants to say he died just so he can end it. 

But even in a story, the thought is too painful.

“Damn you.”, he whispers into the night, “You promised.” 

His sake runs out. 

Behind his eyelids Zoro gets skewered like Roger, head lowered, eyes teary, the blade comes down and then he’s on the Sunny watching his Nakame blowing up in a swirl of flames. 

He doesn’t sleep, he curls into a ball and sobs, feeling a cage clicking around his head again, shackles on his wrists again, feels the sinking dread again, and cries harder when he realizes he’s alone again. 

~ * ~ 

He sets sail and leaves it to fate, if he’s meant to see the Cook he will, if the Cook is still waiting for him, they’ll meet, or they won’t, Zoro will bleed out, become a skeleton drifting across the seas [fully dead this time] and Sanji will hold a grudge against his nakama who chose to leave. It’s almost full circle, his reckless trust in fate, but his small boat feels empty without a bouncy boy with a boisterous laugh. 

He catches a fish, he eats it raw for the eighth day in a row, or tenth? Or maybe just two, he doesn’t know, he just knows his convulsing stomach threatens to throw it back up but he ignores it because starving is worse. 

~ * ~  

He doesn’t drown. 

He isn’t captured. 

His blood hasn’t run dry.

He sleeps. 

He wakes up, more tired everyday than the last. 

But he wakes up. 

That must count for something right? 

He knows that even with a withering soul, he’s too damned to die or is it blessed? It’s hard to tell the difference.  

 He looks up at the sky with a brazen grin, challenging fate again, or is it death? He doesn’t know, he just knows there’s something raw burning inside of him, keeping him alive. 

And he closes his eye. 

Chapter Text

Zoro's eyelid feels heavy, fighting against him as he forces it open, the world sways and bile rises in his throat when he sees a gloved hand plunging into his chest, but he doesn't feel anything. 

Is he dead? 

Is this his soul watching over his wrecked body? 

He tries to sit up, but arms are grabbing at his body, and he strains, kicking and jerking; a few of them fall, but they come back like a swarm of bees, endless, wherever he looks- 

His head falls back onto the pillow, defeated, stomach convulsing with the threat of puking when he's suddenly extremely aware of  a plastic tube in his throat, and it’s worse, wrong on so many levels, it's torture, and he's been tortured, he wants to beg them to starve him, hit him, anything but this. 

"Captain, he's awake!", the man has a penguin on his head, fuck…wait …Zoro squints…he's seen it somewhere, where… where is he ? 

If he sees his own heart being pulled out, he might manage to live and lose the last shreds of humanity left in him and be reduced to a zombie. If he ever makes it back to the cook…what if they pick him apart, organ by organ? What if they make him into a robot like Kuma, trap him in his own body and force him to kill the Cook? 

He tries to breathe, he can't fucking breathe , his eye widens, and dread sinks its claws into his chest, and Zoro tears off his mask because they’re after the Cook. He has to reach the Cook, he’s been drifting for too long, thoughts muddled and purpose murkier, he escaped the base, he destroyed it, he was bleeding, he hit his head somewhere, someone must have called back up - 

The mask is gently tugged out of his hands, and Zoro realizes he’s weak. His numbing fingers can’t hold on like they should, tattooed fingers push the mask down on his face.  

"Roronoa-Ya."

Zoro’s vision blurs immediately, his body sinking back into the helpless unconsciousness he rose from.

He makes out messy dark hair, and a fluffy hat on his head and it’s enough, enough for Zoro to go lax with a ragged breath. 

“Cook.”, he manages to choke out, desperate to warn them but sinking into darkness, “Save-”, his eyes droop, and he forces them open, “Save-” 

The hand is on his forehead now.  

“Don’t worry. We’ll find him, just like we found you.” 

Zoro feels like he imagines the shiny eyes and ghostly smile before he gives in. 

~ * ~ 

He runs a hand over the black cloth of his bandana, it was ragged and sweaty and bloody, and he’s washed it and regrets it because he misses the smell. 

Maybe he’s moved on? 

Maybe he’s with their Nakama. 

Sanji hits his head into a wall. 

No. 

He’s too stubborn to die. 

~ * ~

“MR. BLAAACK!” 

Sanji’s eyes snap open, in the early whisks of the morning, he barely tries to stay awake and fight his hangover, nestled in his office writing recipes while the chefs handle the work. 

 Vegter barrels through the door, skidding to a halt before being knocked over by Macaco, who’s grinning. He gets up quickly, sniffling, with tears in his eyes and knocking his friend in the head for good measure, “He’s here!” 

Sanji chuckles, “Who?” 

“The wandering swordsman w-with green hair and one eye-OW STOP IT, YOU BASTARD!” 

Sanji’s chair falls, he’s aged decades in two years, but he feels the rush of adrenaline under his skin again, “Where?” 

~ * ~ 

A ship bobs at the shore, towering and yellow and a nostalgic logo painted on its side. The crowd is split by men wearing white jumpsuits. Sanji runs, his heart hammering in his chest and a storm of emotions twisting in his gut. He pushes through white uniforms, eyes desperately searching for green hair. 

Trafalgar Law towers over the stretcher, face tense and fingers ready to cast a room, he almost looks the exact same, and it feels unfair. Sanji feels like he’s drifted through hell and back, and he looks the same. His  filtering eyes land on Sanji’s face, and his eyebrows raise in surprise, “Black leg ya?”   

Zoro looks like death . Pale and face lax. Sprawled across the stretcher without a damn. An oxygen mask pressed against his lips. A new scar cuts into his right cheek, an unnerving one on the side of his neck, a light stubble dots his jaw, and his longer matted hair ends at the nape of his neck. Blood-soaked bandages wrapped around his torso, spiralling down his arms, eerily familiar. 

He’s thinner, still sculpted like a rock but slightly different, enough for Sanji to notice. He’s dressed in all black: dawning baggy trousers, boots, a long leather jacket draped over the side of his stretcher along with the familiar red sash, a new black haramaki around his belly. His katanas are tucked safely by his side.  

“Is he…is he…?” Sanji stutters lamely. He doesn’t even know what to ask, fighting the tears in his eyes and their hunger to memorize every nook and crevice of this new [yet achingly similar] man and mind torn between weeping and rejoicing, he might disappear, Sanji might wake up-  

“Alive.”, Law says with a small smile, “He refused to die before meeting you.” 

He tackles law into the sand with a hug. 

~ * ~ 

Sanji carries him to the hospital through the town, Law suggests teleporting, but Sanji denies it, not wanting to call any more attention to his already famous and wanted Marimo. He loops one arm under his legs and another around his back and Sanji snorts to himself, thinking how red the swordsman would go in the face if he were awake [Sanji probably…no definitely would be dead if Zoro was awake, but hey at least he went with one over the idiot]. 

The doctor rattles off a few things, blood loss, dehydration, food poisoning, sudden weight loss and Sanji’s fingers twitch uncomfortably because if he were stubborn and tagged along, none of these would have happened. He would have knocked the muscle-headed idiot out every time he tried to do something stupid- well…he'd try. 

~ * ~ 

They feed him through a pipe for two days, his normal complexion returns, sun-kissed skin contrasting against pale scars, and it’s a small victory that makes his heart swell. 

~ * ~ 

Sanji’s grateful that this hospital doesn’t smell like death, like syringes and steel, and isn't a metal tin filled with blinding lights. It’s poor yet oddly homely, painted a warm beige, adorned with plants and flowers, the sun shines onto the unconscious Marimo, his lax expression looks more lively because his skin shines, almost looks as golden as his earrings. 

They tell him to talk to Zoro, to bring him back. 

But he doesn’t know what to say. 

So he busies himself with humming absentmindedly and running his hand through [surprisingly soft] hair. 

He’s back, and he’s alive. 

Sanji silently repeats. 

And really, that’s all he needs. 

He needs a machine to breathe, Zoro, the mountain of a human being lays prone infront of him, vulnerable, the same man infamous for waltzing through being electrocuted and skewered, for throwing his life away like it’s worthless-

Sanji takes a deep breath, nails scraping into his own palms. 

He’s Alive. 

~ * ~ 

The hospital is secluded at night. 

The nurses don’t taunt them for staying past visitor hours, when one asks them to leave, Law looks at her with a pointed glare that Sanji never could muster. 

“What happened?” he finally manages, voice rough because Law handed Sanji a pack of his favourite brand of cigarettes, mumbling that Zoro had them. Sanji had stood on the balcony, smoking to gather courage, to calm his nerves, and he’s not as used to them as he was. 

Law fiddles with his hands, tracing over the tattoos, “I think the Marines captured him.” 

Sanji grimaces, “You think?” 

Law looks at him, brows pinched. “When we got there, everyone was dead, the place was burning, the one guy we found was begging for mercy and…died before I could even try to save him.”

Sanji gulps, skin crawling, “How did you find him?”  

“The tech room was intact somehow, they had sensors in the water until the gates. We destroyed it and sailed in the general direction.” 

“How…was he?”

If Law’s annoyed by the questioning, he doesn’t say anything. 

He pauses, like considering being more forgiving, subtle, before pressing his lips into a thin line, “Half-dead…do you want…details?” 

Sanji feels rage curling in his gut, the desperate need to break something, ironically his annoying green-haired stress reliever is out cold and unironically he's once again the reason Sanji wants to kick down a building, “Yes.” 

“The boat was covered in his blood, he had head trauma too, but that wasn’t the worst of it. He tried to stitch himself, they were bad, the…the bullet was still in him, it was…”, Law takes a deep breath, “It was small, pierced through his heart, we did the surgery, he needed help breathing and…and he’s been in a coma since, it’s been three months.” 

“And this island?”, he manages despite the taste of bile on his tongue. 

“We found the wreck and worked our way across the islands.” 

“Thank-you.”, Sanji whispers, “ I don’t even know how-” 

“You don’t have to.”, Law cuts off, biting into his bottom lip, “Luffy meant alot to me too.” 

Sanji knows the juxtapositional emotions clashing in his eyes, fondness and grief and the sad smile spreading across his lips, “One day, when we’re ready we’ll go out into the world again…we’ll all achieve our dreams and have a drink.” 

He recognizes it as heartbreak. 

~ * ~ 

Law decides to leave after a month, passing time between hospital visits with Sanji, restocking and discussing new plans in the modest restaurant Sanji works in. He lets Bepo visit Zoro once and he doodles on Zoro's face and Sanji doesn't like it at all okay? He's not a childish caveman who finds that kind of shit funny, which is exactly why he kicks the bear out of the hospital and mentally adds him to the list of people [or animals? or both, he doesn't know] who would be dead if Zoro was awake, along with himself of course, and maybe a bored Law, who one night decides to teleport things around to mess with the elderly janitor, again, not funny at all. 

He imagines Zoro walking around with a white fur coat. 

The brute has it in him. 

They exchange vivre cards and promise to keep in touch. 

“Black-leg ya?” 

“Tra.”, Sanji retorts, watching hesitation flickering across his face. 

“Someday…would you and Roronoa-Ya want to join my crew?” 

Sanji freezes and he feels the heat of flames again- 

“You don’t have to, it just could be an alliance-” 

“I’ll see.”, he pats him on the shoulder, “If it’s meant to happen, it will.” 

Law smirks, leans close and mumbles into his ear, “You just want some fun times with your marimo don’t you.” 

Sanji tries to kick him. 

He kicks a pebble, face burning. 

Law grins as he hops into the Polar Tang with a wave, “See you, Black-Leg ya.”  

“IF I EVER SEE YOU AGAIN I’M GONNA SHOVE MY FOOT UP YOUR ASS YOU SMUG BASTARD!” 

The Heart Pirates part ways with boisterous laughter and nervous mutters, their submarine sinking into the orange sea of the setting sun. 

~ * ~ 

Zoro can breathe on his own and in a better situation, Sanji would clap him on the shoulder proudly. 

The doctor looks like he’s insane, pulling his hair out and muttering to himself over and over, ‘vitals clear, no infection, heart healing’ and Sanji tells the resident comatose plant that: 

“Oi Moss, you’ve managed to annoy a doctor too, if you don’t wake up, he might kill you to empty the bed.” 

The doctor doesn’t appreciate his grim humour and vehemently denies the allegation. 

~ * ~ 

“Are these…?” Vegter beams, eyes practically shining like stars as he looks over the three katanas. 

He lightly kicks Macaco away before he can grab them, the small boy lands with a grunt, “Ow!” 

“Yes.”, Sanji answers, smiling at their antics as Vegter scolds him for ‘ trying to steal a swordsman's soul ‘, only for a puzzled Macaco to gape back at him before his jaw drops, ‘ Eeeh, he has three souls? ’  

“Oi Marimo.”, he mutters, running his fingers over his muscled forearm, tracing over. the rough patches of pale scars, “These brats wanna meet the legendary wandering swordsman, you better not disappoint them.” 

~ * ~  

Another month passes, even the doctor has a concerned furrow in his brows, he says that Zoro should be awake and Sanji doesn’t want to be ungrateful but he grumbles that he clearly fucking isn’t.  

“Oi.”, he finally hisses to the Swordsman, voice raspy from the whiskey (liquid courage for him, this gets harder every day), “You better not let an upset tummy and paper cut kill you, you shitty swordsman! Not after the hell you’ve put me through waiting for you!” 

He wants to be angry. 

He should be. 

But he sobs, control over his emotions as weak as his patience, “If you wanted to die, you…you should have done it away from me-”, blunt nails dig into broad shoulders, “I ca-can’t lose you too!”, and he’s weak, every bit a  useless child as Judge told him he was, resorted to a desperate, teary-eyed, sniffling mess. 

~ * ~ 

“Morning Lazy Ass.”, Sanji greets, pushing the small yellow couch so it’s right beside Zoro’s bed, he falls into it more than he sits, crossing his leg over his thigh, opening his half-finished recipe book, and flipping through pages of neat scribbles, “Don’t take last night seriously, take your time and all that shit, just…”, Sanji bites into his lip, “One-sided arguments aren’t fun Marimo.” 

He looks down. 

Zoro’s finger twitches. 

~ * ~ 

He awakes to darkness, he could swear he’s heard someone calling him every day, distant and desperate, trying to pour life into him again. Sometimes it’s Sanji, other times it’s Luffy, and rarely it’s Nami. 

He wonders if he’s dead. 

If fate is laughing at his grave, at the arrogant fool that clashed with it too many times. 

But dead people don’t feel thirsty…right? 

Zoro gulps, wincing when it pains his parched throat. 

No. 

Not dead. 

He squints, scanning the dark room before hearing a soft snore. 

His chest tightens, fingers desperate for any kind of weapon, he considers wrapping the iv tube around their throat as he looks at his sleeping enem- 

Zoro blinks.

Shoulder-length wavy blond hair fan out around his head, face planted in the side of the mattress, and long fingers are wrapped around his wrist. He can make out a loose tie and buttoned up, green shirt. 

Maybe dead. 

Maybe fucking insane . 

Maybe having a noose tightened around his throat in his last moments of delirium. 

His heart flutters hopefully. 

Even if it’s fake. 

Zoro shakes his shoulder. 

At least he got to see him. 

The familiar voice grumbles, head tossing to the other side. Revealing a swirling eye-brow. 

Zoro shakes with an urgency. 

The man freezes momentarily. 

Come on

Zoro begs, shaking him roughly. 

Fucking please

Wide blue eyes shimmer like the sea as they gape at him, lips fall open in shock. 

Zoro waits for his neck to snap, eye too scared to filter away for even a second because this could be the last thing he sees and he’d be grateful. 

And he waits. 

A blade maybe? Curved with a robed man bringing it down on his neck. 

Instead, there’s a blur of blond and green and lanky limbs clambering over him and wind around him in a tight embrace like their Rubber Captain used to. 

Tears soak into his shoulder, and he’s hugging back, the last shards of his pride shattering as he wraps his arms around his back and cries into his hair with the realization that it’s fucking real.  

“You’re a baby.”, he tries after years worth of tears have dried, but his voice is barely above a whisper. 

“Fuck off.”, Sanji grumbles, muffled because his head is tucked into the crook of Zoro’s neck. 

“Never.”, he promises, pulling the blonde impossibly closer. 

~ * ~ 

The next few days pass in tense silence, Sanji [for once] relishing the sound of Zoro wolfing down his food. Each meal feels like a fraction of a debt paid. 

“You’re gonna make me fat.”, Zoro complains as Sanji places more Oni-Giri on his plate. He doesn’t teach the kids kendo until the afternoon. He's found his corner in the restaurant, sprawled across from the window, basking in the sunlight. 

“Why don’t you stop?” 

“ Why don’t you stop?” Zoro mimics and snatches the food and stuffs it in his cheeks before Sanji can change his mind. 

“Brute.”, Sanji chides with a smile. 

Zoro flips him off. 

A leather boot slams into Wado’s Sheath. 

They pay for property damages together. 

They bump shoulders as they wash dishes in the back as compensation, grinning mischievously like school children. 

 Together.

Chapter Text

The ship burns up in flames and he’s sure they got out, he just needs to make sure- 

The Cook is sprawled across the wood, flames hurling towards him. 

Zoro curses, “Cook!” 

He doesn’t even flinch. 

“COOK!” 

He tries to get him up but Sanji’s limp, they stagger to the railings, he feels the heat of the fire on his back, “Cook, don’t die on me, I’ll find you in hell and dice you-COOK!” 

He gulps, looking down at the lightless, black sea at night, there could be more enemies in there, or a fucking sea king and they’re at the front too-

“Marimo.”, Zoro snaps his head to the side, the body leaning on him trembles as it stands on its own.

“What-” 

Sanji smiles, small and beautiful, “Don’t think too much, your head’ll blow up.” 

“Not the damn time for this Cook-” 

A foot slams into his chest and he’s flying overboard. 

The last thing he sees is a proud grin and a trail of smoke before the ship blows. 

“SANJI!” 

Zoro shoots up in bed, slick with sweat and wheezing. 

He scrambles out of bed, only having half the mind to grab his swords as he runs to Sanji’s room. 

He ends up facing a kitchen and no, this isn’t right, panic swells in his chest and he looks around, stomach-churning when the hallways move. 

He closes his eye.

Which way does he want to go? 

His body nags at him to go left. 

He goes right. 

He pulls the door open. 

The Cook is still, sprawled on his front, drooling slightly, back rising and falling and Zoro sighs. 

Not again. 

He’s never gonna let the shitty cook out of his sight. 

Never fucking again.

~ * ~

The door slides open in the middle of the night. 

Sanji sits up, heart thundering and body tense, ready to leap behind the bed- 

The intruder has green hair, he has his arms crossed over his chest. 

“Marimo?” 

Zoro closes the door silently, dragging his feet more than walking as he places his Katanas by the bed and laying down on the ground. 

“Zoro?” 

No response, only the sound of ragged breathing and something twists in Sanji’s chest. 

“Are you okay?” 

Zoro takes a deep breath, “Yeah.”, he winces when his voice comes out scratchy.  

They settle into silence but Sanji knows how Zoro sounds when he sleeps, the hitched breaths he hears isn’t sleep. 

He throws a pillow at him. 

He hears a yelp and a curse, “Fucking warn me Shitty-Cook!” 

Sanji snorts, “Doing a great job guarding me idiot.” 

“M’ not guarding you.”, he mutters, his voice small and Sanji knows that he’s scratching at his neck sheepishly, “Shut up.” 

“Yeah, yeah.”, Sanji mutters, amused when Zoro roughly pats the pillow and places it under his head, like the pillow is his enemy, “Goodnight Moss.” 

“Night.” 

~ * ~

Zoro doesn’t know why the fear claws at him now when he can actually see him, almost never present in the two years he was gone but it doesn’t matter. He’s here now, he can save him now. 

He won’t leave him again. 

It’s the only way. 

A small smile blossoms across his face as he sits up, watches Sanji sleep peacefully [he’d rather commit seppuku than have the smug bastard see him like this] , he’d gotten used to emptiness, feeling anything is like Mihawk’s blade driving into his chest, swelling and bursting through him too quickly for his mind to catch up,  just feeling anything makes it harder for him to breathe. Sanji’s  face is lax with a slight smile and Zoro wishes he could see what he was seeing. 

He pauses. 

Remembering heart eyes and bloody noses. 

Maybe not. 

Zoro snorts, wiping his cheeks on his sleeve, grateful for the shrouded disguise of the dark night, he can’t deal with Sanji seeing him this pathetic . He plops onto the pillow again, listening to each deep breath and exhales and drifts off. 

~ * ~ 

Sanji doesn’t take many days off but the restaurant is well off, bustling and filled with a good mixture of worn veterans and young ambitious chefs, they have quarrels and Sanji’s daily routine includes dragging them apart. But apparently both parties agree that they don’t want him watching over their shoulder like a hawk and harping at them for wasting food. 

It’s nice outside, sunny but not overbearingly hot. 

He ends up at the local grocery shop, looking for Mosshead. His stupid muscles came in handy around town, helping with general labor and  carrying out big orders in the mornings for payment and sometimes free food. . 

“Zoro? I sent him on delivery.”, the old lady informs, sipping on a cool refreshing drink Sanji initially made for the idiot, “ I sent him this morning, he should have been back by now.” 

Sanji sighs, “Where did you send him?” 

~  * ~ 

Zoro was supposed to deliver downtown to a Breakfast Inn. 

Sanji walks towards the forest. 

He finds wagon tracks in the mud so it makes his job easier. 

Zoro’s in a clearing, sat cross legged on the ground, bare chest gleaming with sweat, back leaning against the wooden wagon

“Oi Idiot.”, Sanji calls in greeting. 

Zoro’s eye pops open, his grip around Wado tightening. 

“Don’t bother, the food’ll go bad.” 

 “I would have found my way back, Cook.”, Zoro mutters, wiping off his pants. 

“In the next century.” 

“What was that Pervy Cook?!” 

“What you call me Cactus?!” 

“Who you calling a Cactus, Nose Bleed Kun?!” 

“I’ll never bleed stuck with you, brute. ”, Sanji hisses, before dismissively waving his hand, “Stop wasting my time and go get the cart.” 

Zoro wanders towards the forest again and Sanji yanks him back by the sash. 

“Are your brethren calling you Marimo?”, Sanji mutters, pulling Zoro in the right direction and to his surprise, he isn’t met with resistance. 

Zoro huffs, “Does curly poop call to you?” 

“WHAT WAS THAT?!”, His brow twitches, body wounds tight with the desperate need to kick some sense into the idiot but he sighs, letting go of the sash and starts walking, “Just bring the cart idiot.” 

Zoro stops, sneer changing into blank confusion before grabbing the handles of the cart and rushing [in the right direction by a small miracle and a dash of luck] to catch up with his long stride, “You scared of me, Cook?”, he remarks, not willing to give up in true brute fashion. 

“The food’s more important than Marimo's childishness.” 

Zoro deflates, lips pulling into a small pout, “Way to ruin the fun.”, he grumbles.  

The delivery is made 3 hours late in the afternoon, the Inn Keep is just relieved that all the food is in perfect condition and thankfully pays the Idiot for his troubles. Sanji makes Zoro pay for his drinks for Sanji’s troubles. 

~ * ~

Sanji stretches his toes with a yawn, years of a rigid routine allow him to sleep without an alarm, he rubs at his eye, turning to look over the bed. 

Surely enough, Zoro is sprawled across the ground, limbs splayed, blue blanket draped across his torso as his scarred ankles stick out, and drooling onto the wooden floor, it’s a slipping hazard and Sanji should fine him. 

But he doesn’t have the heart to. 

Especially not when the swordsman looks so peaceful, the small slivers of sunlight passing through the blinds allowing Sanji to see a Zoro he almost never sees: the rigid lines of his face smoothened out, the slight flush on his face that he only gets if he drinks the place dry. 

He has enough money to rent his own room. 

Hell, he can afford a futon or a small cabinet for his few belongings jammed into the one free drawer in Sanji’s.  

But he’s on Sanji’s floor every night. 

And Sanji doesn’t ask why, he’s too scared to ask why. Instead he wonders every night, if it’s because he thinks Sanji isn’t good enough to defend himself, maybe it is, sometimes he still hears Judge’s voice declaring him a worthless failure, maybe it’s an old habit from swaying in the hammock under his in the Sunny or something softer and fonder, a thought that makes Sanji’s heart flutter in his chest. 

But he doesn’t ask. 

He’ll never ask. 

Because everytime he does the world finds a new way to rip his heart out of his chest and stomp on it. 

He slowly gets off the bed, skillfully balancing on his toes in the small space between his bed and Zoro’s prone body. 

He cautiously takes a step, hissing out a hushed curse when his foot brushes against Zoro’s arm. 

His eye trails to Zoro’s face. 

Zoro yawns, rubbing at his eye and blinking a few times before looking up at him, “Your room’s too small.”, before rolling onto his side and going back to sleep. 

Sanji huffs, stepping over him with a harsh stomp and grabbing a fresh shirt off the hook behind his door. 

He’ll make the fussy idiot one of the best rooms ever. 

~ * ~

Sanji gets the closet cleared out, it’s extra anyway, only a few small sacks of flour and dried fruits taking up more space than they need. He tasks the youngest chef [they only call him a chef to please his ego, the boy can’t even peel potatoes] with finding Zoro and informing him, the idea of telling him is oddly unpleasant to Sanji. 

~ * ~ 

Sanji has just pulled the blanket up to his  shoulders when the door slides open. 

Zoro holds a candle, it paints his eyes in a menacing shadow. They look like dark crevices. 

Sanji frowns, “I got a room cleared out for you.” 

Zoro closes the door behind him, brows pulled but expression hesitant, “Do you not…want me here?”  

~ * ~ 

‘Ah there you are Mr. Swordsman!’, The red-head sighs, dropping to the ground in front of a meditating Zoro and crossing his legs, ‘I’ve been looking for you all day!’ 

Zoro cracks open an eye, ‘Want a reward?’ 

‘No, no, you’re the one who gets a reward! You don’t have to sleep on that uptight geezer’s floor anymore, you got your own room!’ 

Zoro blinks, staring into the kid’s green eyes, waiting for him to laugh or admit his lie, the kid just looks back, head tilted in confusion. 

‘Where’s Sanji?’ 

‘’He went out somewhere, you could probably meet him at night.’ 

~ * ~

Sanji rolls the words around his mind, repeating them silently but they still don’t make sense, the silence between them is as tense as Zoro’s whitening knuckle around the candle. 

The question is simple yet significant, maybe Sanji’s putting too much worth into it, tying his own self-doubt to it and weighing it down like an anchor that’ll pull the whole ship down. 

“You’re the one that said the room’s too small.” 

Zoro doesn’t move, focused on his expression like a snake waiting for its prey to make one wrong move, like a loyal soldier waiting for dread to flicker across his noble leader’s face, “If you don’t…want…want…I’ll”, Zoro gulps, face twitching into a sneer, “I’ll find my own place, It’s better than dealing with this shit anyways.”  

The words are strained, forced past his lips. 

Sanji stares back, at the way his nails dig into his own palm and foot taps as he leans against the doorframe. 

He gave the Swordsman what he wanted on a platter and he rejected it and Sanji doesn’t have the patience to deal with this right now. 

“What do you want?”, he snaps, impatient at the swordsman’s unusual hesitance, hoping to get a rise out of him, “I only did that because you said the room was too small! If you wanna slobber all over the floor, be my guest, if you wanna rent your own  shitty place, go ahead,  I don’t care!” 

He gave the Swordsman what he wanted on a platter and he rejected it and Sanji doesn’t have the patience to deal with this right now. 

Instead of sneering, Zoro’s expression falls, he doesn’t snap back, instead he nods and turns to leave. 

Sanji’s voice catches in his throat as the door shuts. 

~ * ~

Sanji stirs the brew, humming to himself softly because the rest of the crew is still sleeping. 

“Cook-San?”, Robin, his fellow early bird, asks, breaking the routine of quietly thanking Sanji for the coffee and perching on the seat in the corner of the Galley. 

“Yes Mellorine?” 

“Where’s Swordsman-San?” 

Sanji bristles, chomping down on the cigarette he’s been chewing on  to stop himself from smoking a whole pack, “Don’t know.” 

She hums, “He’s an interesting one.” 

Sanji scoffs, “He’s a brute.” 

Robin busies herself with absentmindedly twirling the spoon, “I’d argue differently.” 

“Why’s that?”Sanji mutters, purely out of boredom, it’s the early morning hours, the restaurant is empty, even some of his chefs are snoring away.  

“I read some books on human psychology and emotions and the way he acts around you, it’s…split.” 

Sanji waits for her to continue. 

“When you aren’t looking, he stares, quietly, smiling sometimes but as soon as your head begins to turn he pretends to sleep or curses at you and fights you.” 

Sanji’s chest tightens, “And…what would you call that?”

Robin smiles, small and mischievous, “I think you know.”

She heads to the corner, flipping through his book. 

The smile never leaves her face.  

Not even when she bursts into flames and he screams her name. 

Sanji bolts upright in his bed. 

Light has just begun creeping into the morning sky. 

Sanji pulls at his own hair. 

The sharp sensation grounds him.  

~ * ~

He hasn’t seen Zoro for two weeks. 

He hasn’t slept for two weeks. 

He managed to coax himself into thinking that Zoro’s just being stubborn for the first week but his resolve withers away by the end of the second. 

Memories flash behind his eyelids in his sleep.

With each passing day Zoro feels like sand slipping through his fingers,  fear claws at his chest. What if he’s gone, what if he’s left, what if he’s…

Sanji bursts past the door. 

If Zoro leaves his world will flip, the string of fate letting them sail towards their dreams will snap, Luffy will never forgive him, his Nakama’s dreams will burn into nothing- 

He wakes in a boat and for a brief moment he feels hope. 

But then he sees Zoro’s mangled back, body turned away from Sanji to watch something on the horizon. 

The last reminders of their Nakama's Existence are scattered between them. 

They watch the Sunny’s Head sink into the ocean.

~ * ~ 

Sanji searches everywhere, looks in every nook of the town, he goes to the dock and the coast guard tells him that a small boat full of strong looking men left recently to some unknown destination. 

The needle of bitterness slowly stabbing his heart plunges in. 

He left him. 

The prideful and petty swordsman left him. 

Over a fucking argument. 

It’s fine, it’s fucking fine. It always ends like this anyways, no matter how many times Sanji finds someone who cares for him they always go away, they call him useless or they ridicule his love or they die, leaving him with withering memories of happier days as reality seeps into him: no matter how much he thrashes and begs, he’ll always be worthless, always alone. 

He’s standing in the rain, listening to Pudding cackle as his lighter doesn’t light, dread sinks into his chest and he’s hollow, the wind could blow through him, a bullet could pierce him but he wouldn’t move. 

His tears slide down his face along with the rain. 

He lost his Nakama. 

He never had her love. 

He has nothing. 

Sanji scrubs furiously at the curry stain on the plate. 

They never cared for each other anyways. 

Sanji staggers in front of the towering warlord, desperately holding onto the last string of life. Zoro stares at him, eyes wide, gripping the cliff of life before the plunge of death himself. 

They never- 

‘Tell them I’m sorry, but they’ll have to look for a new cook.’

Sanji’s vision blurs. 

Zoro’s sword drives into his side. 

The plate cracks between his fingers and he sobs. 

~ * ~ 

‘It’s hard Luffy.’, Zoro whispers, the prestigious strawhat resting on his head, they both watch Sanji walk further and further into the eerie inky sea, his feet chained to the ground by some invisible chain. Stopping him from diving after him. 

‘You’re a swordsman Zoro, you’re nothing without your self-respect.’, his captain’s voice is drone, unbearably cold. 

‘But…’, Zoro tugs against the chains, eyes welling with tears, ‘I’m nothing without him-’ 

‘You left!’, Luffy roars, body turning to ash, ‘You can’t go back now!’

Something sinister slithers around the Cook, scales glinting in the moonlight. Closing in until the Cook is choking on his breath- 

‘SANJI!’ 

Zoro’s eye snaps open, heart hammering against his chest, calming slightly only when his hand grips Wado’s sheath. 

The sunlight streams through the tent and Zoro sits up with a groan.  

The mountain’s chill makes his body ache, it makes him feel hollow and old, like all his scars are stinging like they’re new, like his bones are brittle, eager to fall into the ground. 

Maybe he’s always felt like this but it takes most of his will to drag himself out of his tent every morning, in its absence his ghostly pains haunt him again. 

He got a temporary job chopping wood in the mountains, no one else had the strength or will to do it and he’s learned that those types of situations are the ones where he excels.  

Chopping down the sturdy trees into neat planks is good training. 

The silence is great for meditation. 

Food isn’t as pleasant. He’d roast any animal he could find and wash it down with his flask of sake. 

It’s better than starving. 

The Cook clearly didn’t want him around and he’s got enough pride to not cling to his leg like Chopper and Usopp used to, no, he’s not giving the bastard that satisfaction. 

It’s not like Zoro cares about him or anything, he just happens to have a hard time sleeping because of the shitty weather. The tightness in his chest is probably a muscle sore, it’s only a coincidence that it feels worse when he thinks of the Cook. 

He’s not budging unless the bastard apologizes. 

It’s fine. 

~ * ~ 

“Ah, are you Sanji?” 

Sanji stops in his walk back to his restaurant, turning his head to see a young brunette, she seems strong, with broad shoulders and checkered shirt sleeves rolled to her elbows. 

‘Yes?” 

“I heard you were looking for Zoro?” 

Sanji blinks, taking in her wavy hair, tan skin and dark almond eyes. 

He could see Zoro with her. 

“Yes, mellorine.”, he replies with a forced chivalrous smile, “do you know anything?” 

“ Yeah, he’s working for my dad and I, we sent him to the mountain cause no one else was willing, he asked for some sake as compensation…” 

~ * ~ 

Zoro feels something shake his shoulder. 

He groans in annoyance, swatting at the hand, his annoying boss is probably on his ass again for sleeping in again,  “S’ too early, I’ll work in the night too-” 

“Wake up!” 

Zoro cracks open his eye. 

Sanji is pale, eyes sunken with dark lines, shaking like the trees blowing in the stormy wind, his nails digging into Zoro’s shoulders, “What the fuck is wrong with you?I’ve looked everywhere for you, I was worried sick and you’re fucking napping in a forest?!You just…you can’t leave whenever you want!” 

“Eh? You’re the one who was yelling at me, shitty cook! Why should I stay after you talked to me like that!”

“What? When I have been polite to you, the only way to get through your thick skull is to talk to you like that !” 

Zoro scoffs, “I may have stuck around with you all these years but I’m not pathetic enough to stick around where I’m not wanted!” 

Zoro doesn’t know how exactly but he’s standing, forehead butting against the cook’s and his fist full of his oh so precious tie, anger cackles between them like electricity, pressure builds like a volcano and his free hand twitches to reach for his sword, waiting for the cook’s word to fight-

“When did I say anything like that?” 

“You said you didn’t care, what was I supposed to think?!” 

Sanji blinks, brows furrowing and lips falling open, “W-what?” 

Zoro’s knuckles are white, “I asked you straight up cook, if you…if you wanted me around and you said you didn’t care! It’s fucking fine okay! Don’t come here expecting me to follow you like some dog just cause you feel bad for me!”  

“Zoro.”, Sanji mutters, his fingers dig into his shoulders and Zoro can feel each of his ragged breaths on his face, “Zoro I…”, he huffs, “I thought you left me.”, Sanji’s bottom lip trembles, eyes glisten, “I thought you were gone you idiot and..and-”, his head droops in defeat, “I was…scared.” 

“I’ll never do that, Cook.”, Zoro promises again,  pushing back moppy blonde hair, each promise a drop of hope in a void of despair, “Especially not over a stupid argument.” 

~ * ~    

Zoro was sure he was doing the right thing. 

But now as he watches Sanji slowly sip on the sake Zoro handed him, still trembling despite Zoro’s jacket draped over his shoulders he feels like it was selfish, like he actually left, like a corpse sinking into the sea despite its passionate promise to return.  

“Why did you leave without a word…idiot?!”, Sanji whispers, voice too weak to shout. 

“Thought you didn’t want me around.”, Zoro repeats calmly, shuffling closer on their shared log, draping his arm over the Cook’s shoulder and rubbing it, “You sounded annoyed, didn’t wanna bother you-” 

Sanji’s free hand clamps his, “Don’t think for yourself, M’ always annoyed and you're a dumbass.” 

Silence settles between them. 

“So…you don’t mind sharing a room?”, Zoro asks, grinning when the vein in Sanji’s forehead bulges. 

“No.”, Sanji answers, grinding his teeth together so hard they might crack, “I don’t.” 

“What if I say I wanna share a bed?” 

Sanji goes red, “W-what?! Don’t push your luck idiot, you don’t have a chance with me!” 

“Really?”, Zoro drawls, teasingly leaning closer with a smirk, watching his curly brow shoot up to his hairline,  “I’d think my hair and your eyebrows made us both weird and perfect for each other.” 

“S-SHUT UP!” 

~ * ~

He watches Zoro teach Kendo and in a phenomenon as rare as a river flowing up a mountain he looks happy, as happy as his brutish face can muster. He slowly swings Wado, showing each flick of the wrist and twist of his torso in an elegance that almost mimics a dance. 

His expression is that sweet somewhere between relaxed and content, the slightest of smiles on his lips, too small for an inexperienced eye to notice and it looks good on him, Sanji doesn’t know why he has to go around scowling like the world has a grudge against him [maybe it does]. But it’s nice seeing it, seeing the kids move in unison, like a single string pulls all of them,  like Zoro’s tranquility washes over them in waves. 

It’s nice, white school uniforms tinted in a warm hue as the sun sets, leaving thin clouds and a pink-orange sky in its wake.  

~ * ~ 

The marines are coming for them. On their small desolate island, news of invading ships travels fast. 

Their small paradise could only last for so long before the swarm of white and blue blocked out their sun. 

Sanji's heart raps against his chest, unusually, he's the one smoking now, trying to calm the jitter in his nerves,  because it's been years since he fought anyone and he doesn't know if he still has it in him. Well he does, but he doesn't know if he can pull that twisted adrenaline freak out of the confines of his mind again. 

They stand in the beach, back to back,  intending on stopping them before they can tarnish the whole town, they instruct the locals to close off the whole town, remain indoors and flee at the first sign of trouble, they surprisingly have no qualms with then being Pirates, appreciative for Sanji's restaurant and Zoro's freelancer antics, and they actually insist on helping them, Zoro denies before he can, stating this is their fight and they won't be able to live with themselves if they willingly spilled innocent blood. 

Sanji almost hates them for it because if anything happens to them, if he has to walk through children and women crushed under buildings he won’t have the weak excuse of them hating him. 

The other part of him is grateful for being able to fight to protect those dear to him again. 

He hears Zoro's katanas sliding out of their sheaths, slowly, calmly. He tries to sense fear, anger, he senses nothing. He turns his head slightly, "Marimo?", Sanji winces at how his voice trembles. 

He hears heavy boots thumping through the jungle, synchronized in a horrible, heart wrenching rhythm. 

"We'll be fine, Cook, I won't let them get you." 

Sanji hates him. 

Sanji despises him. 

Sanji tells him. 

"I hate you." 

Zoro frowns, "What?" 

"LOOK AFTER YOUR OWN DAMN SELF,  IDIOT! What you think I can't handle a few weakling just cause I'm out of practice-" 

Zoro, the audacious thorn in Sanji's side laughs, laughs so hard that he's wheezing while Sanji fumes. 

"What's so funny shit-head?", he growls, spinning on his heel and raising his leg in preparation. 

Zoro raises his free hand in surrender, "Oh...oh fuck, I missed this." 

~ * ~ 

The laugh gives away their exact location. A sea of white uniforms lines the forest in minutes but Sanji isn’t angry. 

No

He’s grinning from ear to ear. 

He can’t remember the last time Zoro laughed and now he promises himself to remember, to sew each laugh into his memory so it never goes away. So it bursts like stars behind his eyelids with his last breaths. 

“You gave our location away, idiot.”, Sanji grumbles half-heartedly. 

“It’ll just make things move along faster.” 

Sanji blows smoke, trained eye trailing over the countless guns loading. 

“If we make it out, I’m going to beat your ass.” 

Zoro’s smile falters and he looks at Sanji, a frown on his face and a dedication as  sharp as his katana’s edge in his eye, “When, Cook, when we make it out.” 

~ * ~ 

He still has it, he realizes, thrilled and disappointed at the same time, he may have gotten used to tranquility but the savage flame for destruction still burns in him as his foot smashes into noses and chins, breaks bones and sends marines flying like pebbles.

Breathing is a bit easier with each thud of a body dropping to the ground. 

Zoro never lost it, contrasting his aimless tendencies. 

Sending long distance slashes, tearing through skin like it’s paper and dicing up the land with the same effortlessness as him cutting vegetables. 

He feels the hairs on his neck stand, feels something cutting through the air. 

Sanji turns and he’s knocked into the ground. 

The bullet grazes Zoro’s arm. 

Sanji gapes up at him. 

Blood dribbles down his skin but that’s not the most horrifying sight. The air ripples around him, hissing and fizzing and Sanji watches as arms sprout out of his back.

“Stupid Cook.”, his voice growls, head raising to show a flaming eye beside his steely gray one,  “Watch your back.” 

He watches only for a moment as the demon rains slashes onto cowering marines, cackling like the one who used to wear a pink fluffy coat . Slicking the sand with blood and torn through bodies, making it rain in crimson sprays.  

~  * ~ 

“ZORO!”

They’ve chained him, the chains wound around his arms, it takes a dozen on each side and they’re straining, faces shining with sweat and boots digging into the dirt for any purchase and the swordsman yells, riveting and blood curdling, managing to skewer a man with the sword in his mouth, but for every man his sword reaches, another is already holding onto the chain like a hydra, and it almost looks like a war fables he’d read as a kid.

Sanji curses when he hears the click of guns reloading at his back.  

But his heart beats calmly in his chest. 

And he doesn’t move, the marines cackle behind him, hollering that it’s over but the insults don’t sting, he feels a familiar iron crawling over his skin or maybe he’s risking it all for a ghost sensation. 

A marine turns a cannon to face Zoro. 

Sanji closes his eyes and sinks into the merciless nothingness again. 

The barrage of bullets bounce off his skin. 

~ * ~

Not here

Zoro pulls on the chains, body wound tight as he jerks from side to side. 

Not like this 

It feels like she’s towering over him again, grinning, always taller, always stronger. 

‘You’re weak Zoro.’ 

Zoro drops to the ground, the chains go slick, 5 marines fall to the ground. 

The cannonball barrels towards him and he can’t move and he realizes that it wasn’t enough, after everything he’s been through he still isn’t enough, and all his senses come to a halt, he hears the metal’s rhythm, loud and screeching, hears his heart thundering in his chest and despite all that, Zoro looks death in the eye, straightening and glaring despite the dread crawling up his throat and he feels fear swirling around him and he feels pride-

Something rushes in front of him. 

He feels the heat of the canon exploding. 

Zoro closes his eyes. 

But the tall blonde standing in front of him kicked it away. 

“Sanji.”, he manages, the marines disperse, he hears the click of guns reloading. 

Sanji turns, blue eyes lifeless and face blank, “You’re weak.”

The demon bubbling under his skin explodes. 

~ * ~ 

It isn't a battle. 

It’s slaughter. 

As Sanji leaps through the running marines, caving in skulls and crushing bones into dust. 

As Zoro cuts through anything that moves in brutal thrusts. 

As they make a crimson sea on the mossy forest floor. 

~ * ~ 

The beach is silent in the chilly night. The marines retreated hours ago, leaving brutalized corpses and destroyed land in their wake. 

Zoro tells the villagers they're fine and growls at them to not come anywhere near the forest.

Sanji can't tell which blood is his own. 

Not a lot apparently because a sword shattered over his leg, bullets stopped touching him a long time ago. 

The swordsman doesn't have his luck.  

He avoided bullets with the same ease but his front and arms littered in small cuts but he's unbothered. 

"Oi." 

Sanji turns, "What?" 

Zoro licks blood off his lips, Sanji watches them pull into a wicked grin, "You're not done yet are you?", there's a jitter in his energy, not fluttering like fear, pulsing like hunger. 

Sanji gapes at him, face lax, eying the blood soaking his tattered shirt, the "You're too weak." 

They're up in a flash, foreheads smashing  together so hard that any regular human would crumple from the impact. 

"I'll cut you.", Zoro growls, eye narrowing. 

Sanji snorts, "You can't, I'm Germa-" 

He jumps back, a sharp blade knicks the edges of his hair.

"Let's see what's stronger.", Zoro grins again, like some elated psychopath testing how long it takes for his victim to bleed out, "My katanas or your legs." 

Sanji lights a cigarette to fill the gap, the fight was underwhelming, the marines crumpled like ants under his boot, "Think idiot, you literally can't cut me." 

Why fight when  you can't win? It's stupid and pointless and an even  stupider way to die. 

Haki swirls around the blades, dark and glinting in the moonlight, the swordsman's eye glows, "You can't break my katanas." 

Sanji takes a contemplative drag before stomping the cigarette under his foot, "I can break your bones." 

~ * ~ 

Leather clashes into steel like thousands of times before but it’s different. He feels the razor edge against his foot instead of the blunt behind, feels it slice the air where he was seconds ago. 

His foot strains against crossed swords, desperate to crunch the man underneath into dust. 

Zoro jumps back, snarling as he swings at his head- 

The katana hovers over his throat and he watches hesitance flicker over the Swordsman: in the subtle twitch in face,  in his fingers loosening on the sword, mouth opening in a question that never gets to leave his mouth- 

Sanji licks his lips, “Weak.” 

He kicks him in the chest, Zoro flies through the air like he’s paper. 

~ * ~ 

Weak 

It’s the sound his blood makes as it churns through him, the word that rings across his skull when some distant part of him tells him to stay down, to back out and he stands even though it’s harder than the last. 

There’s no man he hasn’t cut. 

Sanji stares, face plain like he can’t be bothered to be here, like some arrogant brat who effortlessly earned a lifetime’s worth of strength. 

This arrogant cook isn’t going to be the exception. 

“Enma!” 

A purple shockwave slices through everything, he feels the tremble in the ground. 

The Cook’s eyes go wide for a second before he jumps out of the way. 

And the voice in his head cackles. 

~ * ~ 

Sanji’s a smoker, but he’s never lost his breath, not like this, where his lungs feel hollow until he gulps down air that’s too thin, he’s never felt his legs tremble, pain going down to his toes in sharp tendrils. 

Sanji’s never lost to that idiot. 

Said idiot doesn’t look any better, panting like a dog, leaning his weight on Wado because he lost the strength to wield all three, hunched over and so obviously weak. 

Zoro raises his katana, for the first time in years, it shakes in his grip. 

A cricket chirps. 

The sea tumbles. 

A silent needle drops. 

And they charge. 

~ * ~ 

What happens when a wave crashes against a rock that never erodes?

That’s what their fight is like, so beautifully brutal and so equally matched that it’s cathartic as it is pointless, like some fateful power decided that they’re the only ones in the world who can stop each other or hit each other with the force of earthquakes and not even leave a scratch. 

What happens when two twin flames burn out together? 

When their inner demons’ blood curdling screams are  fading out with each sharp pain and tired rasp for air.  

That's what they’re like now. 

Sanji is curled on his side on the sand after trying to hobble away from the battle scene, as they watch the sun rise in the pale morning sky, panting and tired enough to sleep through a century. 

“Cook?”, Zoro calls, voice rough. 

“Yeah?” 

“We should learn to…control it.” 

Sanji hums, “And how will we do that without destroying the island?” 

Zoro huffs, “I don’t know, go to the  fucking mountain or something.” 

Sanji snorts. 

A silence settles between them. 

They listen to the sound of waves lapping against the shore, and hear birds chirping, he hears their names being called by the villagers. 

He shouldn’t feel relief. 

Not with the pungent smell of blood still wading through the air and the pain thrumming through his body. 

But he does. 

Zoro rolls over,  his breath fanning over Sanji’s neck, he pokes Sanji, extracting an annoyed grunt, “What do you want?” 

“Just making sure you aren’t dead.” 

“M’ not that easy to kill.” 

Zoro hums, fingers playing with the hairs on the nape of his neck. 

And Sanji’s grateful for it: for the soothing warmth that spreads where the pads of course fingers touch, for the small smile that spreads across his face. 

“I bet I could do it pretty fast.” 

He kicks Zoro in the shin. 

A fleeting silence settles between them. 

Zoro’s fingers find his, they’re slow, cautious as they slide against his. 

“Why so touchy today?”, Sanji asks softly.   

“Don’t make it weird!”, Zoro sputters, Sanji feels the rush of air on his neck and Zoro  pushes his knee against Sanji’s back when he tries to turn around to face him. 

Shouldn’t he be angry? He feels like he’s supposed to be angry, jumping away from the touch like it’s the plague, the most damned thing on the planet but he stays, rubbing his thumb along the thin scars on Zoro’s palm and the wood scented cologne he’s bullied Zoro into using. 

His enemies could reach him in minutes as he’s defenseless, asleep and  sprawled across the forest floor. 

Yet he’s never felt safer.

Chapter Text

Vegter paces around his office like a nervous guard, it’s a daily routine, he comes after school, Macaco is given food and he’s bowing his thanks and on his way. 

Everytime Sanji asks him what he wants he bolts. 

Everytime a Cook chides him for being a tripping hazard, he bolts. 

Sanji lets him be. 

Today he steps into his office, face pulled into a sneer but eyes glassy. He stands in a wide stance, like a proud warrior heading into battle. 

“Mr Black!” 

Sanji raises a brow, “Brat?” 

“C-can you and Mr. Swordsman teach us how to fight?” 

Sanji blinks, “Eh?” 

~ * ~

He doesn’t know why they agree to teach Vegter and Macaco to fight. 

The kids claim they want to protect their village from bad people. 

They don’t even have a decade to their lives but now that’s a concern for them. 

That makes Sanji sick. 

Zoro doesn’t look any better, eyes closed and grip on Wado tight and Nami’s stories of how they recruited Usopp swim uselessly around his head. 

A week in, both brats have already decided whose style they want to learn more. A few months in, it’s indebted in their routine. 

Macaco doesn’t care for the meditative and precise practice of swordsmanship, the kid’s a ball of energy and has managed to hilariously annoy Zoro whenever he tries to teach the kid to meditate. Sanji had to hold him back from knocking the kid out at one point. Instead he prefers to kick everything as hard as he can. 

Vegter is more inspired by the way of the swordsman, by the honor, historical significance, eyes lighting up whenever he talks about warriors from all over the world, the jittery and anxious kid actually learns to calm down, he tries to learn kicks but the poor kid gets bruises all the way up to his knees, despite his lanky frame, through dedication he learns the grace and technique. 

He becomes Zoro’s helper during his kendo lessons. 

Macaco just tries to raid his kitchen. 

It’s fun, Sanji may kick him out every time but he still gives the kid his favorite fish. 

~ * ~

Sanji sees Law’s name in the headlines. 

He’s a Yonko. 

His offer is still settled uncomfortably in the back of his mind. 

It would make sense, the two of them might be freakishly strong but they aren’t enough to achieve their own dreams despite Zoro’s teary promise they both know they aren’t qualified. Joining Law’s Crew would make it easier but a small hurt part of him that isn’t willing to be affiliated with anything other than the Strawhats. 

Are they still the Strawhats? Or are they the nobodies who couldn’t save them, faceless, valueless men drifting through the seas. 

Something pokes him in the back and Sanji jumps. 

The voice snorts. 

“Fuck off.”, Sanji grumbles, returning his gaze to his pleasant view of the town, sitting underneath the oldest tree in the island, perched on a hill.

Zoro teaches Kendo Classes here. 

He sits down beside Sanji, pressing their shoulders together, “Where did you get lost?” 

Sanji scoffs, “You don’t know what that means.” 

“Ha.ha.”, Zoro drones, “Seriously, what’s wrong?” 

“When Law saved you…he asked me If we’d want to join him…his crew…or even as allies. I read he’s a Yonko now and…and if we should do that.” 

Zoro hums, expression blank but Sanji can read the agitation in the way his nails dig into the grass. 

“It would be easier to…to achieve our dreams that way, but…”

“But you feel like we’ll be betraying our crew?” 

Sanji nods. 

He hears the click of a lighter. 

Zoro blows out smoke. 

Sanji holds out his hand expectantly. 

Zoro grunts, “They aren’t cheap.”, but hands it over anyway. 

Sanji takes a drag, feeling the smoke travel down to his lungs before he puffs it out again, returning it to Zoro, “What do you think?”

Zoro puffs out smoke, brows furrowed and eyes closed, he takes a few deep breaths, Sanji watches, fingers twitching anxiously. 

His eye opens, cold and calculative.  

“To accomplish our dreams, we’ll have to.”

Sanji feels bile rising in his throat. 

“We…we can call it an alliance?”, he says, voice a soft murmur. 

And Sanji only manages to nod numbly. 

They settle into silence. 

Sanji wonders if Zoro feels the dread weighing on his chest, clawing, unable to hurt him yet but still worming around. 

“Are we betraying Luffy?”, he rushes out before he can stifle his own words. 

Zoro’s face twists, almost as if Sanji’s words are a sword plunging into him, his head leans against the bark and when he looks at Sanji, he can read the pain in his eyes, the pain of the nakama left behind, the same hollowness after they lost the crew, after he came back half dead and Sanji hates it- 

“I don’t know.”, he rumbles instead, soft, vulnerable when Sanji wanted to hear a steely resolve, “But we have to.” 

He can never do what Sanji wants him to after all. 

~ * ~

For every bit that Luffy is reckless, headlining year long for taking down Yonkos and upsetting the World Government,  Law is strategic, the news of him being a Yonko being the last update and that was months ago. 

Zoro insists on just buying a small boat and sailing, declaring that it ‘worked fine for him’ and Sanji reminds him that bleeding out, eating raw fish and going into a coma is not fine.   

He misses having a higher order during arguments like this, both of them couldn’t be any more different, Sanji insisting on plotting everything out and Zoro itching to go do it. Even if Luffy was on the same wavelength as Zoro, at least there was a decisive decision-maker.  

Sanji grabs at Zoro’s shoulders, he can now, and it always works, on some level it lets Zoro know that his words are crucial, not childish banter. 

“It’s just the two of us now!”, Sanji hisses, “If we mess up, no one’s gonna have our back, no one’s gonna beat the strongest enemy or snipe them or navigate their way out of there, we have to be careful or we’ll be dead too!” 

Zoro flinches. 

Sanji blinks, watches hurt flicker across the swordsman’s face, in a soft betrayed expression,  he closes his eye, dropping his head to take a deep breath. 

“You didn’t see it Cook.”, Zoro whispers, face contourted in a desperate rage and nails raking into his shoulders, “ You…you didn’t see them die…I….I did, I saw them burn to ash  and I did fucking nothing! Don’t you think I know that? That I’m not good enough to save you? Or…or fucking anyone!”

“Zoro don’t-”, Sanji reaches out again and his breath hitches when Zoro’s hand snatches his wrist. 

“I got my ass handed to me by Mihawk, barely survived Kuma and then when I was supposed to be strong enough…fast enough…I…I tried to find who did it and I couldn’t even do that!” 

“Zo-” 

“I know you’re only here because you have to be, if you…if you wanna go fuck around with some women go ahead, atleast I won’t have you reminding me what a failure I am-” 

“Stop!”, Sanji shakes him and Zoro growls, a threatening aura pulsing around him and for a quick second Sanji feels weightless, like a feather swaying in the wind. Sanji lowers his voice, rubs soothing circles into the sides of his neck,  “Zoro.” 

The aura fizzles out but the feral rage still swirls in his eye, measuring his next words with his hand resting on his katana. 

“I shouldn’t have said that, that was stupid.” 

Zoro scoffs, mouth opening- 

“And if you’re weak, so am I.” 

Zoro’s brows furrow, “What-” 

“I…”, Sanji gulps, “I was supposed to save them too, not just you-” 

“Cook-” 

“Just.”, Sanji looks at the ground, taking a shaky breath before continuing, “Listen…please?” 

When he looks up again, Zoro’s face is impassive again, lips pulled in a thin line and eye it’s infamous cold. 

“We both were the protectors and we both failed, not because we didn’t try or because we weren’t strong enough…because the world is just cruel sometimes.” 

Zoro shifts, eye glassy as it darts away.

“And I know that sucks and hurts… I would rather have the satisfaction of kicking someone’s head in but I  just…I just want to be careful? And I’m sorry I was such an asshole when I said it that way.” 

“It’s fine.”, Zoro mutters softly, lips pulled into a frown [to keep them from wobbling],  waving a hand dismissively, “But if we keep waiting…we’ll never leave.”

“We just have to wait for some news about him to surface, I won’t hesitate after that I promise.” 

Zoro nods and he turns to leave. 

“Where are you-” 

“I just need some space.” 

~ * ~  

‘“You’re weak Zoro’ 

Her gaze used to have something fond, now it’s empty, face shrouded in shadow and sickly pale, eyes hollowed out and lips blue. 

Zoro’s gut churns just looking at her. 

‘I know.’, Zoro mutters. 

Wado feels heavy in his grip. 

The lively dojo is silent, eerily still, he can’t see the fields blowing in the wind,  the need for air a fleeting thought between something horrible twisting inside him-

“You can’t protect anything.” 

Zoro’s vision blurs, “I know.”

She stands infront of the stairs, face splitting into an unnerving smile, “Maybe you should come too. You don’t have to protect anything, feel anything…” 

Zoro’s eyes widen, “Wait-” 

She falls. 

“KUINA” 

He sprints after her, reaching out. 

The Sunny bucks under his feet and Zoro falls, weights dropping out of his grip and grunting as his back hits the bench. 

His haki is screeching. 

Danger. 

His katanas are on his side as he barges through the lookout tower. 

The ship is in flames, a gaping hole in her side, the crew is struggling, Robin and Chopper putting out the flames, Franky, Brook and Usopp preparing for the retreat, Nami is barking orders and Luffy is at the helm, attacking cannon balls while Jinbei steers. 

The cook is on the ground, limp.

“Wha-” 

Luffy’s voice cuts through the air, “ZORO, WATCH OUT!” 

Zoro turns, eyes wide. 

A missile hurls towards him. 

He freezes, throat drying. 

His name being yelled is distant because his ears are ringing, heart hammering as panic swells in his chest, it’s too late, it’s too fucking-

“ZORO!” 

Zoro jumps off the tower, his back slams into the pavement and he rolls. 

 He looks up. 

Chopper, Nami and Robin explode. 

Zoro’s heart drops. 

“GUYS!”, Luffy’s voice cuts through the air. 

They’re silent. 

The Sunny creeks and groans. 

The next bout of missiles cut through the air. 

He hears sobbing. Is he sobbing? Are they? He can’t tell. He can’t tell if this is real anymore, it can’t be right? Just a bad dream, after everything they’ve been through-

“Guys, we have to re-retreat or…or-”, Usopp falls to his knees, “It can’t end like this, it can’t-” 

Franky grins, “It was great sailing with you.” 

Usopp sputters, “What-what do-” 

Franky  curls around Brook and Usopp.

He watches the flames curl around metal scraps. 

He can’t breathe, 

He can’t- 

This can’t be real. 

Tears flow down his cheeks. 

His nails scrape against the wood. 

They’re gone. 

He hears another explosion. 

Zoro falls to his knees. 

He doesn’t deserve to live. 

He doesn’t want to, without them. 

He watches as Jinbe blows up, a proud smile on his face. 

“...o” 

“Zoro.” 

Zoro looks up. 

Luffy is staring at him, frowning. eyes so passionate still, on the other side of the ship, but Zoro feels the intensity of his eyes piercing his soul. 

“You and Sanji have to live.” 

“B-but-” 

“No buts.” 

Zoro hears a whistle. 

“You must live… for us Zoro.” 

Luffy smiles. 

“You must be happy.” 

The missile hits. 

Zoro turns, flames crawling up his back, the cook is awake, watching the flames hurl towards him and he has hollow eyes, tears flowing down his cheeks.

Zoro grabs him and leaps.

He’s sinking. 

Not bound by chains or rope. 

Freed from the desire to thrash around. 

The Cook sobs above him, his precious hands banging onto the solid ocean surface, a barrier between them that’s so strong it didn’t even crack with his ruthless kicks.  

His nails scrape against it, hands soaked in red. 

‘Zoro! 

He reads his lips, he hears it without hearing it, hears the way he always rolled the r more than the rest, the way it felt significant whenever he said it. 

Tears stream down his cheeks. 

‘Zoro!’ 

‘Don’t hurt your hands’ 

Zoro pleads, reaching out, last bits of light warming his colloused fingers. 

‘I’m not worth it’ 

‘You came after all’ 

Zoro turns. 

Kuina’s eyes glint in the murky darkness. 

‘I was waiting for my right hand! Shi shi shi!’ 

He spots a flash of Luffy’s toothy grin. 

The water ripples. 

They swim up into the light, bones sticking out of ghoulish decomposed skin, boney limbs latching onto him. 

‘You came!’ 

‘And now you can never go back!’ 

Zoro gasps, inky waters filling his lungs, thick, overwhelming- 

They drag him into the darkness, sharp claws piercing his chest and Zoro gasps, inky water fills his chest, conjesting, overwhelming, it bubbles out of his lips- 

‘Cook’ 

Zoro watches the skin on his arms turn grey. 

‘Cook!’ 

‘Don’t worry Zoro’

Zoro turns. 

Luffy’s eyes are flaming. 

‘He’ll join us soon!’ 

Zoro’s eye snaps open, and he scrambles behind the tree to throw up, gut churning and heart rapping in his chest. 

He looks around him, the weight of helplessness lifting slightly when his fingers wrap around his katanas’ hilt. 

He forces himself to inhale. 

“The Cook is-”

‘You’re weak’

Zoro’s knees wobble. 

“I’m fi-” 

‘You must live!’

Zoro crumples, nails digging into the dirt as the air is suddenly thin around him, like he’s stood at the edge of a mountain, heart racing faster as another piece of the edge falls into an endless abyss. 

“I’m f-fi…” 

His voice dies down. 

He claws at his throat, eyes widening. 

“Oi Marimo.” 

The Cook’s voice is distant to the horrible ringing in his ears, explosions and crackling fire and his Nakama’s screams and he feels darkness closing around his vision. 

“Cactus head.”  

A pause. 

“Moss?” 

He hears rushed footsteps. 

Something’s digging into his shoulders and Zoro tries to push away talons, blurry vision barely making out a horrid figure looming over him, cackling and his helplessness, he grabs at his katana but suddenly it’s dropping from his grip. 

Zoro 

It growls, pleased at the frozen prey infront of it, a helpless bug in a spider’s web- 

Zoro 

It’s voice is softer suddenly, with a more familiar rasp-

Zoro snarls, swinging his fist as it,  he refuses to fall for the illusion - 

It twists around his arms, something gentle brushes against his cheek, the air is thick with smoke and dread and he’s fucking useless, weak, he can’t even move- 

Marimo 

Zoro blinks, arms falling to his side as the world morphs around him. 

He’s sat on a hill, hazy eyes focusing on a distant town, vibrant with colorful buildings and somehow he knows it’s comforting. 

His cheek is pressed into a silky shirt- 

Zoro’s brows furrow. 

Long fingers card through his hair. 

The smell of spices and smoke wades through the air. 

“You’re okay Marimo.”, The Cook whispers, something soft presses briefly against his forehead, “We’re okay.” 

Instead of comfort he feels like his skin is crawling. 

Like the figure is still distantly cackling. 

“Cook.”, he chokes out. 

Weak. 

Useless. 

Helpless. 

“I’m s-sorry.”, he whispers, eye fluttering shut as his fingers curl around his arm, “I’m…I…” 

The Cook’s thumb brushes against his chin. 

When he cracks open an eye the Cook is frowning. 

“You’re what?” 

Zoro stares back at him, “ I’m…I’m worthless ‘nd weak, if it… weren’t for me they’d still be here, I’m just so…so…”, his brows pull into a sneer, nails raking into Sanji’s arm, “you already said it’s not my fault but…but it fucking is- ” 

“Zoro.” 

Zoro freezes. 

The arm holding him is gone but suddenly Sanji is cupping his cheeks. 

Holding them like he used to hold Chopper’s. 

Like there’s something delicate and precious between them- 

“I won’t let you bad mouth my marimo like that.” 

Zoro gapes back at him. 

“His only weakness is his sense of direction-” 

Zoro huffs, “Is this supposed to be comforting?” 

“And an annoying oaf.” 

Each insult feels like a needle under his nail but when he looks up the Cook’s eyes are mellow, pooling with something that reminds him of the sun’s warmth and the ocean’s lull. 

A smile spreads across his face, small, genuine, the one that graces his face when he’s finishing up chores in the kitchen while humming a childhood tune, when he watches Luffy wolf down his food or when Chopper looks up with a star struck gaze and calls him cool, “And I wouldn’t change a single strand of his annoying green hair.” 

Zoro can’t speak. 

Did he ever? 

Or did he forget how to as he stares into the Cook’s eyes, with his treasured hands touching his rough scarred skin and words so foreign but needed leaving his mouth- 

Am I dead?

Zoro wonders, words drifting somewhere between conscience and voice that he doesn’t even know if he uttered them. 

The speed with which his heel drives Zoro into the grass is impressive. 

The Cook storms off the hill, face beet red and nostrils flaring,, “YOU SHITTY SWORDSMAN, I MADE DINNER FOR YOU AND IF YOU WASTE IT I’LL SHOVE MY FOOT SO FAR UP-” 

Zoro laughs, “I’m coming, you Shitty Cook! Learn to be patient will you!?” 

‘Eh? Come at me you jerk!” 

~ * ~

Sanji makes him onigiri in apology before going to find him. 

Every argument that ends in one of them going too far ends in a token of apology, it’s easier than admitting they were wrong and apologies are impossible with them. Sanji gets new shirts and sake, Zoro gets his favorite foods and his favorite smokes. 

Every endless night where one’s fighting tears and twisted horrible thoughts ends with the other curling around them, making them vanish with a silent vow to never let them become a horrible reality. 

It’s weird. 

They’re weird. 

Seeing the grin slowly creep back on Zoro’s face feels like the sun rising out of the ocean for him. 

“You feel bad Cook?” 

“Don’t indulge yourself, it’s easy to make.” 

“Right.” 

~ * ~ 

Sanji smiles, turning in his bed to see a broad figure standing in the doorway, “Back again, Stray Marimo? “  

“Shut up.”, Zoro grunts, Sanji laughs because he knows his face is red, and turns to face the window again.  Hears him kicking off his boots and the rustle of him shrugging off his shirt. The bed dips under his weight and Sanji curses as cool arms snake around his waist.

“ You’re fucking cold!”, Sanji squirms. 

Zoro mewls behind him, his chin resting on Sanji’s head and all the annoyance drains out of him immediately, “ you’re a fucking kitten, Marimo.” 

Zoro meows.

“Fuck you.” 

He feels the rumble of Zoro’s laugh. 

~ * ~

Zoro offers to help at the restaurant on a busy weekend when they’re short staffed [Sanji can’t stand half-assing employees, sue him] and Sanji is convinced the sun’s going to rise from The West. 

That’s not the only surprise of the day, the second is that Zoro doesn’t chop anyone’s head off: the Staff are relentless, treating him like a lazy chore-boy, chiding him and calling him by not-so-endearing names but he nods at the instructions laced between the bitter words. He doesn’t look like an oaf either, forced into a black button down by Sanji, with the first few buttons undone of course, Sanji may never understand the appeal but Zoro does get appreciative looks, He also [tries] to sleek back his hair, but even it is directionless, and sticks in every direction again.  

Sanji’s on tables again, it’s nostalgic as it is stressful. A beautiful lady dawning a flowing red dress [and a mediocre man, a shame really] are in the VIP Seats on the second floor, he smoothens out his collar, combs back his hair. 

“Hello Sir, hello Mellorine , you’re looking gorgeous! How may I help you today?” 

The woman giggles, hand covering rosy lips and honey eyes shining, “I would like a dance tonight?” 

The man’s jaw drops to the floor, “O-oi, I brought you here, you can’t just-” 

Sanji glares at the man and his mouth snaps shut, “She may do as she pleases. ” 

“You don’t speak for her, know your place you peasant- ” 

Sanji hears a plate shatter, he ignores it ans grinds his teeth together. 

“Sorry if I offended you sir, I just mean the lady is free to choose-” 

The man gets to his feet in a flurry, “And I said you don’t have a fucking say.” 

Sanji senses movement but no threat as the man grabs at his collar, he sighs, leg raising in preparation as the man’s voice drones out in favour of the sound of his heart thumping excitedly- 

Something whizzes past him and the man yelps. 

Sanji blinks. 

The man’s hovering above the air, feet swinging uselessly. 

“You don’t talk to him like that.”, A voice rumbles beside him. 

Sanji turns. 

Zoro’s face is irate:  brows pulled and vein in his forehead bulging, he looks at the man like he’s a nuisance, a stain he’ll erase from existence with a flick of his wrist and as Sanji’s vision trails over his arm he realizes he’s holding him up with one fucking arm, fingers digging into his shirt and tie and the man is red in the face and sweating- 

“That’s the end of your stay here.”, Zoro grits out with a grin, malicious, like a hyena baring it’s teeth to it’s prey. 

The man is a colossal embarrassment as he sputters and thrashes as he’s dragged out but Zoro’s grip is unrelenting, his strength unwavering because he marches on and his arm doesn’t even twitch from the strain. 

He hears a chair screeching. 

The woman grabs a long coat around her shoulders. 

“My dear, you are welcome to stay-” 

“I’m okay.”, She offers a small smile, eyes glinting with mischief as she grabs a napkin. 

“Oh.”, Sanji gently takes it from her and holds it open, so she can slide into the sleeves easily, “I was looking foreward to our dance.” 

She turns, her hand reaches for his face and he freezes. 

She dabbles the napkin under his nose, it comes out soaked in red. 

“You should dance with him.” 

Sanji blinks. 

“Wait-” 

Surely he got the nosebleed from her? Surely, she’s gorgeous:  wavy emerald hair and honey eyes, graceful and teasing-  

She’s smiling as she waves farewell, “ Now I’ll only court men who look at me like that .” 

Sanji watches frozen as Zoro holds the door open for her and bows with a sheepish apology. 

He’s wandering off when Sanji grabs him by the wrist and pulls him through the back door. 

Sanji presses him against the wall.

“You feel like you have to save me again Marimo?”, Sanji rushes out, itching with a new irritation he can’t name, it crawls under his skin, it burns pleasantly when it feels the heat of Zoro’s chest on his palm, it’s confusing, fucking annoying, Sanji can’t decide between wanting to kick him and…and… fuck he’ll just kick him, it’s easier.  

Zoro raises his brow with a snort, “No, you would have murdered him, not a great reputation for the restaurant.” 

Sanji grins, thumb tracing Zoro’s jaw and his face is impassive but the way he leans into the touch reveals something vulnerable underneath his leveled gaze, “Aw, how sweet of you Marimo.”, he purrs, pleased, “What do you want as a reward?” 

Zoro offers his hand, “Dance with me?” 

Sanji waits for the punchline, for Zoro to burst out laughing but he’s unfairly calm as he looks Sanji straight in the eye. 

“Can you even dance?”, Sanji mutters in a flimsy attempt to break the tension, to give his thundering a heart a small moment to slow down. 

Zoro’s lip twitches into a lopsided grin, “Is that a challenge Cook?” 

Sanji grins. 

“You gonna backout already Swordsman?” 

“Never.”

~ * ~ 

Everyone is drunk. 

Everyone is swaying to the joyous regional music, flutes and ukuleles and drunk off beat claps, the restaurant is lit by candles washing it an a warm orange hue, the tables are empty, everyone sways together, customers and staff alike, some unfortunate choreboys tap their feet to the music as they finish up the last of the dishes. 

A finger brushes up his spine. 

“Bastard.”, Sanji grumbles immedietly, actually managing to control the jump of his shoulders. 

Zoro huffs a laugh behind him, “It’s no fun when you don’t get scared.” 

Zoro’s thumb traces circles into his hip, it’s crowded around the dance floor, people waiting to be pulled in, people dragged to the front against their will, everyone’s attention is on the figures twirling in the center, no one’s gonna notice such a small thing [Sanji hopes, because he doesn’t have the heart to swat his hand away]. 

“So…”, Zoro begins. 

“So?”, Sanji repeats. 

“You owe me a dance.” 

Sanji pales. 

“You too scared?” 

“I…I…” 

“Cook.”, Zoro’s lips hover over his ear as they whisper, “You don’t have to if you don’t want to, I get it you don’t…infront of everyone…”, Zoro’s voice falters, “ With me.”, he finishes, words meandering and unfinished but meaningful enough for Sanji to fish out the self-doubt laced in them. 

Sanji grabs his wrist. 

“Let’s go.” 

Zoro blinks, “Really?” 

Sanji smiles, “Really.” 

He smiles back, goofy and innocent and all the hesitence melts off him like ice under the sun, “That’s my Cook.” 

 Sanji wonders how he’ll ever say no to that smile. 

Sanji wonders if his heart will flutter everytime Zoro calls him his. 

Zoro is clunky: rigid and restricted in contrast to Sanji’s freely flowing grace but not restrictive, he’s a tree to Sanji’s leaves, effortlessly holding him in bows and twirling him into a loose embrace, keeping him from flying away in stormy sorrowful winds. 

He’d be able to live without Sanji. 

Sanji would probably wither up and die without him. 

It’s not fair really. 

The music is fast now, and they speed up, hearts hammering and feet clumsy as they nearly face plant a few times, Zoro twirls him so quickly Sanji still feels like he’s still spinning when Zoro’s calloused hand holds the small of his back to steady him. 

“Dizzy already? I was just getting started.”, Zoro leans close, lips pulling into a wolfish smirk, “How disappointing.” his arm snakes around Sanji’s back, forcing him into a dip. 

Sanji feels his face burning, everything up to the tip of his ears, he hates the satisfaction written across Zoro’s face with a passion, “You…shit-head!”, Sanji headbutts him and kicks out his legs, Zoro yelps, combat boots skidding across slippery tiles and Sanji’s the one to catch him now, his back arched in a graceful [and compromising] position. 

The chefs whoop with approval. 

Sanji watches his wide eye narrow to a slit but his face is also burning, hell he’s red all the way down to his chest but oddly, he hasn’t slit Sanji’s throat yet. 

“Oh.”, Sanji raises his brows, “You turned into a tomato!” 

Enma slashes the air above his head. 

“YOU ASSHOLE!” 

Sanji hears gasps. 

Sanji’s teeth grind together as he ‘accidentally’ lets go of Zoro, he drops to the ground, back smacking into the ground with a resounding thud that stuns the crowd into silence. 

He hears low murmurs, apparently the crowd was delusional, he hears fleeting conversations about how they looked good together. 

He doesn’t have the time to stand and listen of course. 

Because he’s running away as fast as he can from a murderous tomato. 

While struggling to breathe because he’s cackling like a mad-man. 

“C’mere you stupid COOOK I’ll kill you mercifully if you come willingly, you..you CURLY PIECE OF SHIT!” 

~ * ~

Zoro gets lost looking for him. 

After everyone has gone home and is not at risk of being caught in the possible destruction of a fight, Sanji actually looks for him. 

Sanji offers him the restaurant’s best alcohol in truce. 

~ * ~ 

“So you don’t hate me now?”, Sanji asks teasingly. 

They sit with their backs propped against the wall, enjoying the silence and cool breeze of the night. 

The alcohol was stronger than Sanji expected, Zoro’s already flushed and slurring his words. 

He snorts, “Course not.” 

Sanji smiles, taking a courteous sip when Zoro hands him the bottle,  “You’re only saying that cause I gave that to you, you’ve wanted to chop my head off ever since we met.” 

Silence. 

He turns. 

Zoro is staring at him, deeply, like Luffy used to stare at him, picking apart every layer and lie, staring into his terrified soul. 

“I never hated you.” 

Sanji sputters, punching his chest when the alcohol catches awkwardly in his chest, after it goes down he manages a reply, “And I’ve never flirted with a woman, what are you on?” 

Zoro’s the one who looks confused now, he tilts his head to the side with a frown, “You didn’t like me, You called me rude shit, I called you rude shit,  I went along with it.” 

Sanji bristles, “Like you treated me with respect! So you’ve been fighting me all these years for no reason?!” 

Zoro looks at the skies, “You’re annoying.” 

Sanji’s brow twitches, “What the hell-” 

“Shut up, you’re annoying, a wominizing idiot, cook. We disagree on everything but I never hated you. I could fight you because you were my equal, because no matter how much you pissed me off, we’d never actually hurt each other, because we’re both impatient hot-heads who know how to beat the sense into people before talking it.” 

Sanji clicks his tongue, “Don’t lump me into the same category as you.” 

Zoro huffs, “Don’t pretend you're any better.” 

“Please I’m charming-” 

“To women.” 

“And kind-” 

“To women.” 

Sanji grits his teeth, “Brute.” 

Zoro snatches the bottle back. 

“Thanks.”

Silence. 

“Why did we start fighting?” 

Zoro laughs. 

Sanji raises a brow at him. 

Zoro looks at him, a sheepish smile on his face.

“I don’t even know.”

Sanji lights a cigarette, “So do we stop it now? Fighting.” 

Zoro takes a contemplative drag, “I don’t think we can. It’s part of us now you know? We might as well try to stop breathing.”

Sanji wants to be annoyed. 

He tries. 

But his lips pull into a smile on their own accord. 

“That’s stupid.” 

“And if you think about it…”, Zoro hiccups, “So are we.” 

Sanji snorts, “Cheers to that.”

~ * ~ 

If someone asked Sanji why him and Zoro were sprawled in an angry heap on the grass he wouldn’t be able to explain it to them. 

Well the long answer would be that Macaco and Vegter asked who was better at wrestling and both said me and both the brats left ages ago, bored, and they’re too stubborn to stop. 

The short answer is that it doesn’t matter, the only thing that matters is that Sanji will pound the Moss into the dirt. 

Sanji’s forced to snap back to reality as Zoro’s hip snaps and

Sanji falls into the grass, he scrambles, but Zoro’s arms are snaking around his neck in a choke hold; They’re firm, and he smells like smoke and pine and Sanji curses at himself for getting distracted. 

Sanji drops his weight to the ground, and Zoro lets go of him easily. 

They’re huffing and sweaty, and it’s turned into a fist fight because they’re both too impatient for the strategic nature of wrestling. 

Zoro has iron-like self-control. His punches come with a quick snap but connect with soft, painless thuds even though Sanji hits him harder a few times [accidentally], he sees Zoro’s face twitch in pain, and he steps back, experimentally dabs at the area and comes back in. 

He reminds Sanji of a snake, with a cold calculative eye and slow, confident movement as he sways from side to side, rolls his shoulders, his muscles ripple, and he’s fluid, his eye is the scariest and intriguing, grey and clear with a predatory focus that makes the hairs on his neck stand and Sanji shakes his head to focus . 

His eyes dart to Sanji’s legs as Sanji lunges, leg swinging to his gut. Zoro sidesteps, and he sweeps out his leg and Sanji curses as he falls. 

Zoro grins down at him, “ I win?” 

He’s practically shining with sweat, the light of the setting sun making his earrings glint, his eyes crinkle when he smiles, his feral face suddenly endearing.

“You win.”, Sanji mutters quietly, raising his arm. 

Zoro lowers to grab his hand and Sanji kicks out his legs, Zoro yelps, smacks into him and Sanji wheezes a laugh. 

Zoro groans, “Jerk.”, he grumbles, shifting to plant his hands on the ground beside Sanji’s head but Sanji can feel Zoro moving against him: feels his knee brush against the inside of his leg and the emptiness where his front was pressed to Sanji’s and he knows it’s different. 

And Zoro knows it’s different because while a panicking Sanji looks from their tangled legs up to Zoro again, he’s looking at Sanji with the beastly gaze again: his focus narrowed to Sanji like he knows the world could be ending but it doesn’t matter.

Sanji can hear his own pulse pounding in his ears and Zoro moves slowly, shoulders rolling as he crawls up, Sanji freezes, “Zoro?”, his voice is frail because Zoro looks down at him, face hovering so impossibly close that Sanji can feel his warmth but not the touch of their skin pressing, his earrings feathering over Sanji’s neck, metal and cool “ Yeah?”, he answers, voice a low rasp, his pupils have blown , like two small meteors in a grey rocky terrain and oh. 

Any reply he can think of dies in his throat. 

Zoro boldly moves closer, breath fanning against his lips, his hand presses into Sanji neck, over his pulse. 

Sanji gulps and closes his eyes. 

When he doesn’t feel anything, he slowly opens his eyes- 

Zoro’s lips are pulled into a thin line, his brow is furrowed and he moves back. 

Sanji tilts his head to the side. 

The realization crosses his mind too late. 

Shit 

“Sorry.”, Zoro whispers in a wavering voice. 

“Wait-” 

“I thought you, I…”, Zoro’s already on his feet, head hanging low, trembling hands pulling his coat on, he sighs, the jitters in his hands calm, and he looks up again, a determined expression set on his face, “Sorry.” 

He grabs his katanas and leaves, and Sanji can still feel the warmth of his hand on his neck . 

~ * ~ 

He’s an idiot. 

A huge fucking idiot. 

In what world does Ero-Cook like men? 

Ero- who faints at the sight of women and thinks men are a nuisance and that Zoro is the biggest one- Cook would be the last person to feel like that for him.  He forgot their history as soon as he stared into those vulnerable blue eyes and it’s pathetic. 

Forgot years of a bitter rivalry, of leather clashing against steel and opposing ideologies. 

“Another shot dana?” 

Zoro looks up. 

The weasley waiter is grinning with crooked teeth, he’s definitely going to empty Zoro’s wallet- 

“Sure.”, he croaks instead, pushing his glass foreward. 

He has nothing better to spend it on. 

It’s a dingy bar, hidden in an abandoned corner of town (trust his navigation skills to end up in a place like this), it’s dark, lit by a few oil lamps and the wood creaks like it’ll snap under his feet. Zoro can spot cobwebs on the ceiling, hell, his drink probably has spiders in it, but he’s had worse. 

“Some snacks Dana?” 

“No.” 

“Are you sure they’re really good-” 

The vein in Zoro’s forehead bulges, “No.” 

“Oh are you sure, I’ll give you a discount-”

Zoro glares at him and he feels a powerful energy sizzling in the air like lightning.  

The man faints. 

Zoro sighs, chugging down his drink and placing a generous amount of berries on the counter. 

“Thanks for the drink.”   

~ * ~ 

The summer has never felt annoying. 

It does now. 

His skin sticky with sweat, the unbearing sun’s rays feeling like they’re holding a vendetta against him, pelting on him so hard the back of his neck might be sizzling. 

And he may be sick from eating at the old lady’s inn, she’s kind and Zoro would be sleeping in the forest if it weren’t for her, but her hands tremble when she cooks. 

He won’t ever say it though. 

Even if he dies of food poisoning.

Her name’s Merry. 

He tries not to think about it too much. 

He tries not to think too much. 

It’s easier because he’s splitting his time between working, helping Merry out and knocking himself unconscious with strong liquor. 

~ * ~ 

He manages to find a more decent bar this time. 

But his drinking is cut short by a bright haired teenager plopping in the chair next to him, wearing leather and spikes. 

“Roronoa Zoro.”, He drawls with a grin, “You’ve got quite the big number on your head don’t you?” 

“Not in the town.”, Zoro looks at him, levelled, calm, “The Dock.” 

And to his surprise the boy nods. 

~ * ~ 

Few words are said as they stand on the doc, he’s just managed to pull out Wado when they charge. 

They’re a chaotic bunch, fighting with crowbars and metal bats. Running around with no particular plan, Rookies, he’d assume, because all of them have young faces and passionate eyes. A few years ago he would be afraid of his katana chipping, now he watches their eyes widen as his haki clad blade dents their bats. 

They’re still relentless. 

Zoro’s soaked in sweat and wheezing, each breath feeling like it’s not enough. 

He barely dodges a bat swinging at his head, quickly side-stepping but suddenly the world lurches and Zoro stumbles. 

The bat slams into his temple  and his vision blanks. 

Zoro rolls forward, slashing at the man’s torso. 

Zoro pants, Wado clattering to the ground as his palms press into the wood. 

He looks up, the world is swimming, spinning and throbbing and shifting between darkness and unbearably bright. Zoro groans, eyes fluttering shut as he crumples to the ground. 

~ * ~ 

‘Stupid Swordsman always getting in trouble’ when I’m not there’  

‘That idiot has dodged bullets and he missed a fucking bat!’

Zoro cracks open an eye. 

He’s in the Cook’s bed. Two pillows stacked under his head and a blanket neatly tucked around him. 

He looks up and his breath catches in his throat. 

The Cook is glaring at him,  his face pulled into a sneer and Zoro wants to rub the tension in his forehead away. 

“Well, well.”, He rumbles, chewing on the cigarette in his mouth, “The Sleepy Marimo’s up.” 

Zoro clicks his tongue, any fond thoughts withering away as he notices the bitter edge to the Cook’s voice, “ Slip something in my food if you’re so annoyed.” 

Sanji’s eyes narrow, “It’s a good idea you know, it’ll be good riddance.” 

his brain flashes Sanji’s wide blue eyes staring up at him in frozen horror as he idiotically leaned closer, drawn to golden hair and ocean eyes- 

“You left again.”, Sanji rumbles, seating himself on the edge of the bed, hair falling infront of his face as he fiddles with his lighter, “I’m sensing a pattern. Are you just gonna leave after every small fight?” 

Zoro bristles, fist clenching, “Small fight?” 

Sanji’s confidence waivers, there’s a fleeting moment where he looks unsure before he’s straightening again, “Yeah.” 

Zoro glares at him, “Is that all you have to say Cook?” 

Sanji blinks, “What the fuck does that mean?” 

Zoro smiles, more snarl than amusement, baring his teeth like a wolf at it’s prey, a lion to it’s rival, “After I tried to kiss you and you, the Great Black-Leg Sanji rejected me? Don’t you wanna say anything, satisfy your ego with the fact that I fell into your honey trap!?” 

Sanji’s expression changes, sneer turning into a frown, “What?” 

His feigned innocence grates Zoro’s nerves. 

“Drop the act Cook! You never meant any of it right?” 

Sanji’s brows twitch, he gulps, voice suddenly low and trembling, “Did you?” 

Zoro’s so angry it feels like his blood is flame, he yanks the iv out of his arm and the Cook’s yell is distant and the blood trickling down his skin is cool , “I did! So you fucking enjoy that!” 

~ * ~

He ends up on the roof. 

It’s cold and wet and his thin sleeping pants make no difference. 

Some Waiters try to convince him to come back down but when Wado is unsheathed and glinting in the moonlight, they don’t coax him any further. 

He lets them wrap his arm in bandage. 

It’s cold. 

Adrenaline seeps out of him and leaves him trembling and curled around himself in a corner. 

Leaves bitter tears at the thought of falling so helplessly into a cruel trap that promised something kind. 

He doesn’t know if he’s falling asleep or passing out but he’d welcome either. 

~ * ~

He wakes up with a blanket wrapped around him and he’s sprawled across something soft that sinks under his weight. 

A bed. 

Zoro cracks open an eye. 

Sanji’s bed. 

The Cook sits infront of him, expression blank but a nervous tick in each tap of his foot and twitch of his fingers around his liquor flask. 

He looks up to Zoro, eyes clear as a summer morning sky. 

“You don’t actually think I’d joke about something like that do you?”, he asks, voice quiet but unwavering. 

And Zoro huffs, “Of course you could.” 

Watching the hurt expression flicker across his face is both painful and satisfying. 

Zoro turns to face the window and pops a pain killer into his mouth. 

He hears the door shutting. 

He drifts off to sleep. 

~ * ~

Something runs through his hair, it’s comforting, and Zoro’s about to drift back to sleep but he hears a quiet voice humming a familiar tone. 

Zoro grabs his wrist. 

“I don’t want your sympathy you damn cook, even if you didn’t play me just say you don’t want me and go away like a man.” 

Zoro cracks open and eye and his chest feels tight when he sees that the Cook is looking at him with glassy eyes and a small frown.

“And what if I do?” 

Zoro’s throat dries, “do what?” 

“Want you.” 

Zoro’s grip loosens, heart begging to leap, to hope- 

“How do you…want me?”, Zoro mutters, expression hardening despite his urge to pull the Cook into a hug, “As a friend or…or…I’m done messing around Sanji.” 

Sanji gulps, intertwining their fingers and placing them against his forehead, when blue eyes look at him they’re determined and caring and angry all at once, the same eyes that were staring down at him in Thriller Bark swirling with a clear determination but a complex storm of emotions as he asked Zoro to find a new cook, “Whatever you’re willing to give.” 

Zoro’s heart skips a beat, he clears his throat, “A-and why should I believe you?” 

He’s already fallen, he’s pathetically desperate, hovering somewhere between a hopeful field of flowers and jagged rocky peaks. 

Sanji presses Zoro’s palm against his chest, “I swear.” 

He’s fallen. 

Into love or heart break? 

Only time will tell. 

~ * ~

“Cook?” 

They’re sat infront of the door again, the cool breeze and wood creaking under their feet is distantly familiar, if Sanji closes his eyes he can pretend that the ground is swaying underneath them. 

“Yeah?” 

Zoro’s thumb brushes over the crease in his palms. 

“You know…you don’t have to do anything…right?” 

Sanji raises a brow, turning his head, “What?” 

Zoro doesn’t look back, instead his brows are furrowed as he stares down at their slotted hands, he takes a deep breath but it comes out stuttered, “I won’t leave you if you don’t…don’t want…”, he gestures between them quickly, more frustrated by the second because Sanji watches him go increasingly tense, “Don’t do it cause you’re scared I’ll leave and all that…or that I’ll be…just…just if you want to.” 

Sanji laughs as he takes a sip from their shared bottle, “You look like you’d kill me.” 

Zoro squeezes his hand, “Cook.” 

Sanji looks back at him. 

He could swear he’s never seen Zoro change expressions so many times in his life. Because now his eyes are pleading, lips pulled in a thin line, a man on the verge of death or liberation, waiting for his verdict. He’s not even breathing, Sanji notices [amused] by the way he’s turned into a statue. 

It’s kinda fun. 

He’s never felt so crucial to Zoro. 

Like his next words could lead him to pull him into a hug or break his nose. 

“I’m not picky Marimo.”, Sanji purrs with a lewid grin, “I wouldn’t mind being stuck with you.” 

Zoro’s eye widens, “E-eh?” 

“Plus I bet you’d make a good house wife-” 

“S-shut up, Ero-Cook!” 

Zoro does punch him and walk away, muttering curses under his breath. 

It’s worth it. 

~ * ~

The Cook finds him on the other side of town, a wide grin on his face. 

He loops their arms together. 

“How’s my doting wife doing?” 

Zoro sighs, “I’m gonna kill you.” 

Sanji clicks his tongue, “This is the appreciation I get after a day’s long work-” 

“Try me.” 

~ * ~ 

After a long stretch of nothing, they hear that Law’s heading to Elbaf. After a week of gathering information, the news is almost 100 % confirmed. 

It’s their last night on Achambha Island and they decide to have dinner on the beach, under the stars, it’s a cloudless night so they glimmer across the sky in an endless blanket. They sit on the ground, food placed on a picnic sheet,  illuminated by a small oil lamp. It’s a comfortable silence, both dwelling in the bittersweet place between cherishing the simple life they lived in the small town and gathering enough nerve to dive into a new treacherous one.  

“Zoro?”

“Sanji?”

“After you do everything…if you’re still alive…would you want to live like this again?” 

“Depends.” 

Their hands press together when he slides his hand to get more comfortable, Sanji absentmindedly cards their fingers together, watches the way they slot together perfectly. 

“On what?” 

Zoro’s thumb brushes against his chin and his heart leaps into his throat as his chin is turned. 

Zoro looks at him, Sanji’s always seen his eye sharp but now it’s mellow, more dripping honey than steel, he tilts his head, and a small smile blossoms across his face, the one that makes his eyes crinkle and cheeks get dimples and it’s so kind and warm, it gives him an odd sense of home. 

“If you’re there with me.” 

“E-eh?” Sanji sputters dumbly, stuck between escaping into the sea or sinking into Zoro’s eye but the hand holding his feels like an anchor holding him in place.  

The smile falls into a frown, Sanji watches his lip tremble in something that feels too vulnerable for them, “If you aren’t there, I don’t want it.” 

Sanji should be the level headed one. 

Sanji should tell him that if the Strawhats got wiped out, they’re just two broken wings. 

Sanji should tell him that they’re always diving in front of each other at the first signs of danger and the sea is merciless, it rips everything dear to you away. 

He doesn’t. 

Because there’s a promise swirling in that eye, an emotion, struggling to spill out of those lips, one he’s read about and dreamed about, tried to find in all the wrong places with an aching heart. 

“I don’t either.”

The wide eyed surprise on Zoro’s face is fleeting before it’s changing into a cheshire grin and he’s leaning closer, breath fanning over Sanji’s lips, “You know you’re stuck with me now Cook?” 

Sanji grins back, looping his arms around Zoro’s neck, “And I feel like an idiot for it.” 

Zoro hums, but doesn’t move closer. 

Sanji huffs in annoyance, “Do it.” 

“What, you don’t have the guts Cook?” 

Sanji curses, fingers scrunching up his shirt and pulling him in.

It starts tepid, a curious brush of lips with lidded eyes and thundering hearts. 

He never thought that the rugged Roronoa Zoro would be such a gentle kisser, pressing their lips together innocently, cradling his neck with a loose grip giving him all the space to pull back. 

He never expected an urge to squish his cheeks between his hands, to kiss at every scar and hold him everytime there’s agitated lines on his face but here he is so suddenly and helplessly smitten, affection bursting in him like a volcano. 

But he’s impatient, so he pushes Zoro into the sand. 

The annoyed furrow in his brows is brief because Sanji’s lips find his and his hands cup his face and Zoro melts under his fingertips.   

~ * ~ 

Zoro is alive. 

He’s burning under the sun in the chilly night. 

It kisses him slowly, dragging their lips together but he also touches Zoro urgently,  pressing him into the sand, nimble fingers slipping under his t-shirt, gliding over scarred skin, mapping the scars out like constellations  and Zoro’s hands slide into silky golden hair, thumbs trace over the curl in his brows.  

His warm lips press against Zoro’s, tasting like sake, his own taste like tobacco, it feels jumbled and right all at once cause they’re twisted together in more ways than just that, like light and darkness finally swirling together to make a starry night, sea crashing onto the rocky shore to make chaotically beautiful waves. 

Combined, they taste like blissful pleasure. 

You must live  

It commands him. 

To feel my rays again  

“Sanji.”, he whispers horsley, senses exploding like fireworks made of canons , pleasant and overwhelming and he should stop but every fiber in him doesn’t want to- 

Sanji hums, kissing along his jaw and Zoro has to stop himself from melting or combusting, either are plausible, his brain clearly poured out of his ears the moment Sanji kissed him. 

Zoro gulps,”t-time out.” 

Sanji snorts, “Are you, Roronoa Zoro, admitting defeat?” 

Zoro bristles, ”Fuck no.”  and drags the annoying [gorgeous] cook into another kiss. 

Said Cook grins against his lips. 

Zoro considers slicing him in half but Sanji’s hands cup his cheeks like he’s the most fragile thing in the world and Zoro’s resolve waivers. 

He’ll do it later. 

Chapter Text

They get the shipwrights to build them a boat. It’s no Sunny Go. Hell, it’s nowhere near the Merry. Small and modest with one cabin that has a kitchen, washroom and bedroom. It’s [apparently] a stronger type of wood, thicker, found in the older trees all over the island. It’s lined with sheets of steel in a feeble hope of keeping it together through the rough seas. They do manage to fit an engine and automatic paddles on it. Otherwise, their arms would fall off paddling. 

It’s a gamble. 

Sanji realizes, standing on the dock watching a young boy create a phoenix out of a slab of wood, hand steady and eyes sharp as he makes a crevice for each feather. 

It’s fitting. 

Because both of them are about to rise through flames as well. 

Flames that still burn painfully in their heart. 

That burned scars into Zoro’s skin. 

That burned their Nakama’s hopes and dreams. 

It’s been years, but the weight of it still sits heavily in his chest, anchored so deep that he’ll never fully claw it out. 

Now he gets a sense that their life is turning into a gamble. 

As they slowly creep away from their modest haven on the island and prepare to dive back into the treacherous seas. 

He hears a yawn. 

Zoro shuffles behind him, arms wrapping around his torso and head resting on his shoulder. The scent of smoke and steel enveloping him. 

He used to be appalled by it. 

Not too long ago. 

Growling at the Lazy Moss to shower rather than stinking up the ship and said Moss would argue that smoke didn’t smell any better. 

“We’ll be fine, Cook.”, Zoro rumbles groggily, carding their fingers together with one hand while the other rubs at his eyes. 

Now it soothes him.

Echoes as much of a sense of home as Zeff’s chaotic kitchen and puffing out smoke during dawn, while his Nakama still snored softly. 

“Weren’t you sleeping?” 

“Could hear the gears turning in your stupid head-” 

Sanji elbows him. 

~ * ~ 

“We should…decide roles.”, Zoro whispers softly. 

It’s a clear night, stars shimmering in the sky. 

They’re sat outside the restaurant, enjoying the cool night hair, a candle balanced on the table between them. 

Sanji gulps, sipping on wine to force the morsel of bread down his drying throat. 

“Do we have to…now?”, he manages, meeting Zoro’s leveled gaze, the excuse of disrupting their peaceful evening ready on the tip of his tongue, but he doesn’t look enthusiastic, either. 

A grim determination is set on his face. Sanji has seen it at Thriller Bark, while facing Mihawk,  while he was forcing Sanji to live while their dreams sunk into the ocean. Suddenly his warm beaming face is weathered, a stone eroded  by the seas. Suddenly his mellow eye are as sharp as the edge of his blade. 

He hates it. 

Because every time it’s on his face Sanji hears the bell of death and treachery tolling, reminding him that his little peaceful moment is a small flicker in an endless storm of hopelessness- 

Zoro’s brows furrow, and his lips pulled in a deep frown, spoon swirling around his soup like the topic alone had caused him to lose his appetite. 

“We should.”, he forces out, louder. He drops the spoon. His palms press into his forehead. Sanji would reach out for him, comfort him, if his own hands weren’t trembling. 

“I worked with the Shipwrights a bit…I can do that.”, he mutters, wavering voice growing confident as he goes on. 

“I can learn how to navigate.” 

“I’ll do cannons.” 

“I’ll do medicine.” 

Zoro straightens, face hardening like it’s preparing for a painful blow, he pauses for a small moment, the dim lighting isn’t dark enough to hide the doubt flickering in his silence. 

“I attack enemy ships.” 

“No.”, Sanji rushes out, fingers curling into fists.

Zoro sighs, large hand running through his hair, “Cook-” 

“I said fucking no!”, he doesn’t even realize that his hand is scrunching up Zoro’s shirt and he’s stood, looming over the swordsman but he doesn’t even twitch, just stares up at him like he’s a child throwing a tantrum, “I’m not letting you hurl yourself to an early grave like that-” 

Zoro gets to his feet to, slowly, he holds onto his shoulders, thumb tracing along the curve of his neck, “Sanji-” 

“Don’t Sanji me! You came back one drop of blood away from fucking death! Who in their right mind would let you fight by yourself again-” 

“Sanji.”, his voice is a low growl now, patience withering away, menacing energy, haki, crackling in the air,   “You know I’m the better option, Fighting is all I can do…plus I’m…” 

He pauses, words dying down in his throat.  

Sanji’s face twists into a sneer. 

“Are you saying I can’t!”, Sanji hisses, “That I’m too weak? And you’re better?!” 

Zoro blinks, his hand is curling around the back of his neck but Sanji shoves him away, watches surprise flicker across his face as he stumbles back and nearly trips on the chair. 

“Why don’t you lock me up then? Keep me caged cause I’m too weak and useless! So you won’t have to see me again! I bet it would be easier on your conscience!” 

Sanji

“You’re precious, my son.”

“Why is he so weak?” 

“Why doesn’t he fight back?” 

“This isn’t fun anymore” 

“Run away Sanji.” 

“Never tell anyone I’m your father.” 

…ji 

Sa..i 

Sanji! 

“Sanji!” 

Sanji blinks, eyes hazy as they focus on the face hovering over his. 

Zoro is shaking him, brows knitted and eye desperately scanning his face, his grip on his shoulders loosens when he stares back at Zoro. 

He only realizes he’s crying when Zoro’s thumb brushes a tear off his cheek. 

“I can’t let them get you.”, Zoro whispers, pressing their foreheads together, “If I die it’s fine but…not you. ” 

“It’s not fine!”, Sanji’s hands latch onto his wrists, half heartedly tugging at them to pull them off, he’s not this damned weak, soft words and touches aren’t enough to subside the rage bubbling inside of him- 

“What if they take you?!”, He hisses, “You think I’ll be happy to get rid of you?!” 

Sanji sees a grin creeping up on Zoro’s face. 

He presses a kiss to Sanji’s nose. 

“I know you won’t let them Cook…”, the wolfish grin is splitting his face when he adds onto his fond words, “You’re too damn stubborn. You’d burn the world to the ground if they touched a hair on my head.” 

His eye is glassy like his own, expression soft in the face of the rugged scowl moments before, swirling with something that sweeps away the lava bubbling inside him and only leaving ash. 

He wants the stupid swordsman to burn in hell for the swirl of emotions that flutter in his chest every look, every touch, every fucking moment they spend together, it’s overwhelming, infuriating- 

It’s the reason his lips betray him and twitch into a smile, “I hope they dye it black.”, Sanji grumbles. 

Zoro snorts, arm draping across his waist and tugging him in the direction of the kitchen, “What are you going to call me then? Half of your quips are about my hair.” 

Sanji huffs, grabbing the wandering swordsman by his collar and tugging him in the right direction, “Don’t think this is over, I’ll chain you to the ship if I have to.” 

Zoro hums in acknowledgement, the stupid grin still plastered on his face as he drunkenly sways as Sanji leads him to their room. 

~ * ~ 

He can’t sleep. 

How surprising. 

It isn’t entirely unpleasant. 

He listens to Zoro’s muffled snores, his head pressed into Sanji’s chest, curled into his side, leg draped over his.  

It’s endearing. 

He sleeps easier with the weight of him, a snug barrier from the harsh world outside.

He sleeps easier listening to the rhythm of his breath. 

He tries to ignore the origin of their newfound clingy nature. 

He tries. 

But it’s sewn into the corners of his brain with steel wire. 

The corners that distort his vision, that make his heart swell with anxiety when it  reminds that it started when they had nothing but their life and he almost lost his Sole Nakama’s heartbeat too. 

When they were struggling through each day and he was sleeping light with his limbs wrapped around Zoro’s frame in every way but intimate, his ear pressed to his pulse because he would shudder like a man possessed and Sanji never knew if he was more afraid of that or the idea of it abruptly ending. 

Sanji’s fingers feather through his hair. It’s soft as its green spongy namesake, despite its owner being a weathered man with more pale scars than supple skin. 

And now they’re going back. 

Sanji’s teeth grind together and his head falls back into the pillow, he forces his eyes shut. 

He’s roused by a low groan. 

“Zoro?” 

The boat is rocking violently and Sanji’s lidded eyes snap open, he gets up, head swimming immediately and bile crawling up his throat but he forces it down. 

He looks around quickly, expecting churning waves and storming winds. 

He blinks. 

He sees nothing. 

Hears waves gently lapping against 

He hears a low noise. 

Sanji blinks. 

A whimper. 

Sanji looks down. 

Zoro is trembling, entire body wracked by horrible shivers, face scrunched in pain as beads of sweat slide down his face, his head tosses to the side and his teeth chatter together. 

“Zoro!” 

Sanji grabs at his face, his shoulders, repeating his name like a mantra, a plea for mercy but he doesn’t stop, his nails dig into the wooden boards, leaving streaks of crimson and Sanji can’t help him, Sanji can only watch as he…as he… 

A hushed noise leaves his chattering lips. 

Sanji freezes, wiping away at the tears blurring his vision as he leans closer. 

“L-luffy.” 

“M’ s-sorry.” 

A sob.

“M sorry” , He whispers, Sanji watches him slump, face lax as if he’s…he’s…

“Zoro!” 

Something dark shoots up in the corner of his vision. 

He shakes him. 

“ZORO!” 

Something claws into his shoulder and he’s dragged into the sea. 

Sanji grabs at the beast, palm pushing against roughened skin. 

“Cook?”, a groggy voice mutters. 

Zoro stares at him blankly, eye still cloudy with sleep. 

Sanji’s fingers are splayed over his throat. 

“Shit.”,  Sanji hisses, withdrawing his hand, cradling it against his chest. 

“Are you okay?”, Zoro reaches out, thumb delicately tracing his cheek- 

Sanji rolls out of bed. 

~ * ~ 

The chilly night air is grounding. 

So is the anxious jitter in his hands begging him to drown himself in his vices. 

He does nothing to soothe either problem. 

Leaning against the wall beside the restaurant door, eyes trailing over the horizon but not watching it- 

He hears the door creak open. 

“I’d rather be alone.”, He announces, managing to keep his voice leveled- 

Zoro hums, but he hears him shuffling beside him regardless, scratching his head as he closes the door, “And when have I listened to you?” 

The silence that stretches between them is long yet fleeting, Sanji’s nails cut into his own palms as he sways between nightmare and reality, the difference between both of them thinning with each board added to their ship. 

Zoro stands beside him, clearly there but faded, his warm fingers lightly brushing against Sanji’s bony cold. 

Sanji sees the first wisps of light dance across the sky. 

Maybe he woke up close to dawn. 

Maybe they’ve been standing here for hours. 

“I could have hurt you.”, He mutters, hoping his conscience would feel less shackled by filling the void of silence with meaningless words. 

“You could have.” Zoro retorts, “And I could have on the hill, but that’s not really what’s on your mind, is it?” 

Sanji sits, crossing his legs and leaning against the wall, “No.” 

Zoro hums, shuffling over to sit beside him. Pulling his knees to his chest. 

“I don’t think I’m ready to go again.” 

Zoro winces. 

Sanji turns to look at him. 

He looks at Sanji with a bitter smile. 

“I’m not either.” 

“Why…then?” 

Zoro stares up at the pale morning sky. Fingers thrumming against his knee as he gathers his words.  

“Cause I promised Luffy we’d live, and maybe I’m stupid ‘nd reckless, but clinging to this island cause we’re scared shitless of the sea…doesn’t feel like living.” 

Sanji is the one wincing now, the spidery claws of doubt puncturing his mind suddenly flimsy when wagered against his ruthlessly blunt words. 

“And…what if you’re wrong?” 

“We’ll retreat…or we’ll die a stupid death cause of me.” 

“How encouraging.”, Sanji deadpans, “Feel much better, Marimo.” 

“Listen, Sanji.” 

Sanji turns again. 

Zoro stares at him, eye sharp and lips pulled in a frown. 

“What we had before…was blind faith…we thought the world was too small infront of our dreams, and it was nice while it lasted, but the world is wretched, you can bleed yourself dry, and it won’t give you a drop of mercy…but…true soul…true faith…is knowing that and still wagering everything on yourself and fighting through it.” 

Zoro’s voice is low, expression dark. 

“If you hide from the storm, you may live longer, but you’ll spend your life in the dark, consumed by it. You might die in it. If you sail out…you might die sooner, or you might just catch a glimpse of the sun. People like us… are too dedicated to our dreams for us to wither away silently.” 

Zoro slots their fingers together, “I know going out there is like wrapping a noose around our throats, but…but this time, I’ll do anything to stop the storm from taking everything away.” 

His thumb brushes against the creases in his palm, gray eye raising to meet blue, but Zoro’s is as deep as the seas and mythically enchanting as it shines beside the morning sun. 

“Now…it isn’t just about tearing through the storm to prove my strength…now it’s as important to get you through it too.” 

Sanji stares.

Moved. 

Dumbfounded.  

Thoughts clear yet impossibly tangled. 

So Sanji loops his arms around his neck and seals his promise against his lips with a searing kiss. 

The world may be cruel, wretchedly committed to tearing us apart, but I’ll happily defy it with you. 

I’ll happily die trying with you. 

~ * ~ 

 

FINAL NOTES FROM AUTHOR: 

Hello again! I've given up on the end notes on this thing. I just wanted to add that I finished Berserk recently [another reason why this took so long, hehe...sorry] and would highly recommend it! I will warn that it has every warning possible, adult content, gore, mature themes, and it is possibly one of the most depressing yet uplifting things I've ever read. And the Art Style is gorgeous. RIP to Mr. Kentaro Miura. He's a legend for creating this amazing story for us, and I hope the studio keeps his legacy intact as they continue the story. 

I realized that I've kind of been writing a similar story about a couple who are traumatized by loss and are struggling through their life. Zoro's Solo Adventure as a depressed swordsman is eerily similar to the Black Swordsman Arc. Berserk [if any of you have read it] also has a theme of struggling to live through each day, even if you know you're probably damned. Guts is such a complex and human character that it's almost satisfying; he's skyrocketed to my favourite protagonist [Sorry Luffy]! I feel like I unintentionally took inspiration from Berserker Guts for Ashura Zoro, but enraged/ lose control tropes are more common, so I'm less weirded out by that. 

But yeah, I thought it was an odd coincidence. Zoro's whole dialogue about struggling through every day to find the light is almost directly from Berserk, the only intentional connection, lol,  and I wanted to give credit! You have no inclination to believe me, by the way, this is kinda hard to explain, and I couldn't just let this sit in my head alone.

My rambling aside, I totally get it you skipped this portion. Regardless, thanks for reading! 

Chapter Text

They’re ready to leave the island before the sun rises, the sky a swirl of the passing night and the oncoming day. 

They almost leave discreetly, a few meagre belongings packed onto their modest ship, secured in mismatched sacks and boxes, whatever they could find. It isn’t much, barely enough to show the years they’ve spent on the island, Sanji owns most of them, memorabilia: books from the shy librarian, a tea set from the restaurant, some coin from the banker.  Zoro only has the katana cleaning kit, a few sets of ragged clothes he came onto the island with and a toolbox handed to him by the shipwrights. 

 Sanji is checking items off the list, brows furrowed, narrowed eyes shining behind dark sleek reading glasses he angrily claimed he doesn’t need right before starting the task. And of course, he’s pouting like an angry child. 

Their moment is interrupted by yelling.  

Almost. 

Zoro thinks wistfully as he notices Vector and Macaco sprinting towards them at full speed. 

Along with the entire village. 

“Damn.”, Zoro grunts, eye wearily scanning over the crowd hurling towards them, “Why are they even awake?” 

Sanji kicks him in the shin. 

“Don’t pretend that you’re not glad to see them.” 

He tucks the glasses into his shirt pocket, Zoro doesn’t voice his disappointment. 

“ ‘M not.” 

“When will you stop being an ungrateful brute-” 

Their boat rocks and both men struggle to steady themselves. 

“Take me with you!” 

There’s a splash. 

“No, me!” 

Macaco, like his namesake, leaps onto the boat, while a sputtering Vegter rolls in. 

“You brats aren’t coming.”, Sanji declares while Zoro watches the crowd get uncomfortably close- 

“I know he’s annoying but I’m a swordsman I can help-” 

“Eh? I can kick Sea Kings!” 

“Guys.” 

They freeze. 

Sanji kneels down to their level, “Zoro, start the boat.” 

Zoro raises a brow, “Cook-” 

Sanji shoots him a quick glance, “Trust me.” 

He focuses on the children again, a small smile spreading across his face as he ruffles both of their hair, “ We’re really proud of you both, and honoured to be your teachers, and would love your company-” 

“That settles it!”, Macaco chirps, only to be bonked on the head by Vegter. 

The engine sputters before roaring, suddenly they’re speeding away from the shore. 

“Don’t interrupt him!” 

“ But, we can’t take you with us, you’re still two bratty children and when you become men, we’ll consider the offer, deal?” 

He watches both of their faces fall.. 

Zoro clasps his sash into Vegter’s hand as he grabs his shoulder, “I want you to be the best one day.” 

Vegter wipes away at tears as he bows, “Of course Sensei.” 

“And you brat, always be kind okay?”, Sanji loosely wraps his tie around his neck. 

Macaco’s bottom lip trembles, ‘This isn’t fair.” 

Suddenly both of them have a tube around them, they blink, faces morphing into confusion as they turn to see Zoro smirking down at them deviously, “This is your last test, if you make it back to the island alive, you’ll have a chance at joining us.” 

Vegter pales, “W-wait…you don’t mean-” 

Zoro hurls them overboard, their shrieks piercing the air as they splash into the water. 

The hundreds of voices bidding them farewell morph into cries of concern, a few villagers dive into the ocean. 

“That was harsh.”, Sanji chides as he settles down beside the swordsman, “ We could have given them a lifeboat.” 

Zoro clicks his tongue, “ They’re only a few feet out, they’ll be fine.” 

Sanji watches the bright red tube be dragged back to the surface. 

“We’ll never be good at leaving islands will we?” 

Zoro huffs, “We’re pirates, we don’t need to be.” 

The villagers swarm the children, Sanji imagines them mirroring the same concern, wrapping them in blankets and ushering over the doctor. 

Sanji shrugs, “It would be nice. “ 

~ * ~ 

Zoro can’t say he missed the turbulence of the Grand Line. 

He isn’t fond of it now either as his Oni-Giri threatens to rush back out his mouth as the ship creaks and lurches in every direction, struggling through the sheets of rain and harsh waves. 

He barely managed to put the sturdy leather covers over the deck to avoid flooding before stumbling into the room and closing the door. 

He’s still sat with his eyes shut, the wooden barrier of the wall around him not enough to stop his head from swimming, He takes deep breaths when his routine is interrupted by nimble fingers running through his soaked hair, pushing cool beads away from his forehead and making them trickle down his neck. 

“You okay?”, Sanji’s voice gravels, low, he can smell the spiced rum on his breath. 

Zoro cracks open an eye, snorting when he sees his Cook ghoulishly pale and trembling, “Are you?” 

“Ha.”, Sanji deadpans, “ fucking hilarious, You better not throw up in this room.” 

Zoro looks down and rubs at his queasy belly, “I’ll try.” 

He hears the floorboards creek as Sanji heads to the cupboards, he closes his eyes for another brief second, attempting a deep breath again , but the ship rocks violently, his shoulder knocks into a barrel and he grunts in annoyance, fighting off his urge to punch it because it’s full of flour and the Cook would dent his skull with a kick-  

“Here.” 

He holds out a small piece of ginger. 

Zoro clicks his tongue, “Like I’m eating that raw, at least put it in a tea or something.” 

“You’ll throw it up.” 

Zoro’s jaw tightens as he glares up at the Cook. 

“Don’t be difficult Marimo.” 

The creases in his forehead and impatience in his voice are more tired than angry and Zoro huffs, snatching the piece and chomping down on it stubbornly.  

The day passes by excruciatingly slow. 

Zoro cleans each of his katanas thrice, inspecting for damage with hawk like precision and scrubbing them down so vigorously he might wipe off the steel. 

Sanji splits the time between organizing and re-organizing the cabinets and scribbling words into his recipe book. 

They try playing cards, but it’s brief, even straining his mind on the simple game makes his head throb and the way Sanji’s forehead tenses, he assumes he feels the same way. 

They both end up in bed by dark, wordlessly curled together but in no way pleasant as the frivolous yet very plausible fear that their ship might sink in the inky starless night settles like prickling needles between them. 

“I can keep watch.”, Zoro offers, itching to do anything to distract the unease settling in his chest, “If that’ll make you feel better.” 

Sanji’s thumb brushes over the scar on his eye, “It’s too dark, you won’t be able to see shit.” 

“I bet I’d see enemy ships.” 

“We don’t have a Jolly Roger Zoro, we’re nobodies, unless they somehow see through the walls we’ll be fine.” 

“Would you rather sink while we sleep, Cook?” 

The Cook’s lips pull into a lecherous smirk. 

“Who said we’re sleeping?” 

~ * ~ 

Sanj kisses lazily at his back, lips achingly gentle against the rough mauled skin,it's probably more destroyed than the rest of him put together, his fingers brushing tenderly over the bruises on his hips. 

The storm hasn’t died down. 

But Zoro couldn’t care less. 

Still drifting between a fever dream and sleep, limbs melting into the mattress like jelly and the burning inferno that was twisting in his core now sated. 

The Cook mutters something into his ear, pulling Zoro from his lucid thoughts, “Hmm?”, he grumbles. 

“Feel better Mi Amor ?”, he repeats softly into his ear, fingers now toying with his earrings. 

Zoro’s brows furrow, he turns, draping his leg over the Cook’s and raises a brow, “Is that Marimo in French or something?” 

Sanji smiles, his sweaty locks a tangled mess on his forehead, Zoro pushes them back, revealing two pupils still blown like blackholes rimmed by a thin stream of crystal blue, “Something like that.” 

~ * ~ 

“There should be an island coming up soon.”, Sanji yells through the open door, hunched over a map that’s sprawled across their dining table, “ We should reach by sunset.” 

Zoro hums his acknowledgement, crouched over the floorboards, inspecting them for early signs of damage, “The ship looks fine.”, he declares and yawns, after working very diligently for five minutes. 

Sanji’s lip twitches, “It’s fine?” 

Zoro cracks his neck, slipping past him to sprawl across their shared mattress, “It’ll make it to the next island for sure.” 

“My aren’t you professional.”, Sanji drawls. 

But when he looks back, the Swordsman is already asleep, snoring softly. 

~ * ~

The ship, does infact, make it to the next island. 

They find out there’s a thunderstorm throughout the next day and decide to stay for two. Spending their first day stocking up on essentials, Sanji focuses on groceries and toiletries and Zoro heads into the spiralling hidden market for weapons. 

Zoro wipes the sweat off his brow. 

He barely fits through the crowded market, his long jacket that hides his katanas catches onto everything and he grunts in annoyance, drawing it more tightly around himself. The market is lined with guns, gun-powder, katanas, cannons, almost any weapon he can think of, he doesn’t see any white uniforms and feels somewhat more at ease but the question of how all these weapons ended up on such a desolate island is more concerning. 

“Oi.” 

Zoro turns his head. 

A brown-haired scruffy man leans against a bar, running his tongue over his small dagger and grins, his eyes sharper than his blade “Do I know you.” 

Zoro raises a brow, “No.” 

The man hums, swaying slightly as he walks closer, placing a hand on his shoulder, ”You don’t happen…to know the Strawhats…the bounty is pretty huge, we could split it-” 

Zoro’s grip tightens on Wado, he looks at the man, reads the greed written across his flashy grin and clicks his tongue before shrugging his hand off his shoulder, “The Strawhats are dead.” 

~ * ~ 

Sanji wants to pretend he can’t hear the distant footsteps that have been following him for miles, he winds through one tight alley to the next and now he’s made it all the way to the park. 

They stop when he stops, stop when they clumsily break twigs as they silently trudge between the trees, on grass fresh with morning dew. Stop now because he’s stopped walking. 

 Zoro and his meeting point is nearby but he can’t even sense his presence. Can’t hear soft snores or a low voice grumbling complaints under his breath. 

Sweat trickles down the back of his neck as he safely deposits his groceries on the ground. 

He takes a swig of his flask.

“You better not ruin my food bastards.”, he grumbles, wiping his mouth on his sleeve, blue eye dragging over a barrage of men emerging from the trees.  

~ * ~ 

He walks through the market without looking back. 

He wears his bandana over his hair for the rest of the day. 

It isn’t defeat. 

It’s caution. 

That’s what he explains to his swaying resolve. 

He does end up finding cheap gun-powder. 

Well, it’s expensive but enough shopping trips with Nami [with him being the Mule] led to him being able to bully the Shop-Keeper into giving it to him for less. 

He’s walking through the park, his new belongings secured in a pack slung over his shoulder, when he hears the sound of a blade clinking against the fence behind him. 

He stops. 

“You lied Roronoa.” 

He doesn’t even bother to draw Wado.

His haki glints at swirls over his fist. 

“You can still turn back.” 

“Not without your head!” 

The man charges. 

Zoro closes his eye and sighs. 

He hears footsteps, the splash of them against the wet paved sidewalk. Each patter of water, the thrum of the man’s heart-beat, shoes squeaking as he thrusts- 

The knife whistles through the air, missing his torso by inches and knicking the leather of his jacket. 

His fist cracks against the man’s nose and he collapses like he’s boneless, his eyes rolling into the back of his head and nose now a crumpled abomination on his face. 

Zoro tosses him a coin, one of the thinning amount tucked into his haramaki, “Get your nose fixed, never mess with me again.” 

Maybe he doesn’t have to kill. 

Maybe he can be a bit kinder. 

Maybe he’ll never know the right thing to do with people who are more an inconvenience than enemy.

Maybe the man will stab him eventually. 

He’ll let fate decide that. 

But fate isn’t favoring him apparently. 

As dozens more men lurk in the shadows, circling him like wolves around their prey. 

~ * ~ 

Sanji’s ribs hurt. 

His head hurts. 

On some level everything hurts, some kinds of hurt he can pinpoint like the creak of his bruised ribs every time he breathes in, others numbing and flowing like his pointless realization that no part of him wanted this life again.  

But the flame engulfing his leg doesn’t so much flicker as it kicks another nobody to an early grave, the back of the man’s head smashed between rough wood and his steel shin and it cracks like an egg, malicious beady eyes going hazy as blood drips out his ears and he collapses. 

Humans are fragile after all. 

A man runs at him, tears running down his face because Sanji’s maimed his friend and Sanji steps to the side, lightly kicking out his knee and he crumbles with a sob, grubby hands grabbing his fallen friend’s head and probably calling his name but Sanji’s ears are ringing. 

He feels less human when his loafers squelch and he looks down to see them soaked in crimson. 

When he looks around and sees that men with hopes and dreams have been trampled over like ants. 

“M’ sorry.”, he rasps, to himself or to the man or to the air, he doesn’t know, whoever hears him first. 

Not human. 

As he nudges a prone body off his ruined grocery bags, picks them up and turns to leave. 

~ * ~

He finds Sanji smoking on the Park bench, there’s a pile of cigarettes at his feet. A few bags of groceries, the bags are dirtied and Sanji’s shoes are splattered with crimson. Sanji’s eyes are still burning with embers- 

“You too?”, he mutters quietly, picking up a few bags with a strained grunt, his battered torso not appreciating the additional weight. 

The dazed Cook doesn’t notice.  

“Yeah.” 

They walk back in silence. 

The old man at the register nods at them as they enter the small motel. 

The stairs creaking under his feet feel like small needles of irritation driving under his nails. 

When they close the door to their room, he wordlessly drags Sanji into the bathroom.  

He starts by filling the tub with hot water, undressing a wearily still Sanji: Pulling off his jacket, unbuttoning his shirt and slacks, carefully depositing them on the counter,  all while Sanji stares down at his bloodied shoes. 

He’s not as considerate with himself. 

Dumping his worn clothes onto the tiles and gently nudging Sanji into the water. 

They both sink into the tub. 

Sanji’s back against his chest as he carefully massages soap into his soft golden locks. 

“Guess we’re famous.”, Sanji mutters, his voice void. 

“We have been for a while.” 

“We weren’t for a while.” 

Zoro licks his lips, letting the silence stretch as he contemplates his next words, washing the last soapy suds out of Sanji’s hair. 

He decides on wrapping his arms around Sanji’s torso and resting his chin on his head, “We’ll be fine Sanji.” 

Sanji’s fingers trace over the new scar on his arm. Fresh stitches peeking out of scar-tainted skin. 

“What makes you so sure?” 

Zoro presses their lips together, feels Sanji’s tense body melt with the soft touch, their eyes are still lidded when he mutters his next words. 

“We’re together Cook, that’s all that matters.” 

Sanji nods slowly, crawling out of the tub and looking down at him, frowning, eyes muddled with fear and exhaustion, “I want you to be right.” 

Zoro huffs, closing his eyes and enjoying the warmth of the bath and the soft patter of the rain outside, “S’ long as we’re together, nothing else matters.”

Chapter Text

Hello everyone! It's been a while...like a reaally long time. I won't sugarcoat it...I have no idea where I'm taking this story. I was taking it chapter by chapter, but I have run clean out of ideas. Writing block is not strong enough to describe it; it's more like writing "someone threw a brick at my head and it doesn't work anymore.", it doesn't help that I'm in university, and I'm doing pretty bad at that too.

But yeah, I'm really sorry if you are still waiting on updates, as they will come eventually, but I have no idea when.

I will say I planned on a happy ending like the Cook and Marimo retiring in the All Blue or going back to Achamba Island [the island Zoro left Sanji at], but it's the in-between I can't figure out, also not to mention I feel like I'm losing my skill of writing, it's getting bland and not what it used to be.

I will finish this story, but I have no idea how long. Hopefully, I can get stuff done during the holiday break, and my only vague idea is working and refining small chapters rather than hyperventilating and panicking over writing big "average" ones.

In short, I didn't want to leave you guys hanging any longer, I'm sorry and this story is on hold for the foreseeable future, which could be another few months or days, depending on when I regain brain function.

Chapter Text

Sanji wishes he was better at navigation. 

Every precious moment he spent fawning over Nami-Swan could have been spent learning a bit more about navigating the seas. 

He’ll never regret it but it has come back to bite him in the ass. 

Zoro is laughing at him for getting lost . The damned irony of it all makes his blood boil like it’s the pits of hell, somehow burning hotter when he falls to the floor wheezing, breath running out but not his amusement, Sanji wants his stupid breath to run out- 

“Looks like a nice summer island, huh? We should get out our shorts, Cook!”, Zoro muses pointing at the white fluffy dock they’ve crashed into after losing control through hail filled winds and he’s laughing harder when Sanji glares down at him. 

Sanji raises his foot threateningly, “I’ll kill you.” 

Zoro waves his hand, “Yeah, yeah, sure you will, right after you tie an anchor to my leg and throw me in the ocean.” 

Sanji feels smoke coming out of his nose, “Bastard.”

They’re trying to track Law again. 

The key word is trying. 

Months of wandering from island to island and asking around, disguising mostly as bounty hunters and occasionally stealing a marine uniform to make things easier but unlike their captain, Law is actually good at being discrete, at disappearing for months on end and it’s astonishing considering he’s a Yonko with one of the most lethal devil fruits ever. 

“Trafalgar Law?’, the drunk marine slurs, finger pressing into his chin, nearly falling off the stool at the slight movement, “Last I heard Vice Admiral Kizaru was after him.” 

Sanji’s teeth grind together. 

Beside him Zoro tenses. 

Sanji sees Kizaru’s glowing boot coming down on a limp Zoro’s head and his gut churns unpleasantly. 

“He won’t leave anything for us!” Sanji tries to sound humorful, but his voice trembles.  

The marine laughs, doubling over and earning glares from other customers, “Not even a body to submit for the bounty.” 

~ * ~

They’re wandering through the street at night, looking for an inn. The town reminds him of Drum Island, a small town nestled in snowy peaks, all the buildings he sees are built of solid brick and all the houses have windows with the warm glow of a chimney fire, casting shadows of people huddled around it behind closed curtains. If it weren’t for those shadows Sanji would assume the town’s downright eerie. Empty, dark and silent except for the whistling wind and their boots crunching in the snow. 

Zoro had planned on cheaping out on the winter gear, claiming he didn’t need it but now he walks with his shoulders hunched, nose and chin buried in the collar of his scarf to block out the wind, his green hair crowned by a small pile of snowflakes that melt away only to be replenished and his brows are pinched in irritation.  

He hasn’t spoken since the bar. 

Which Sanji would write down as normal brute behavior but when Sanji loops his arm through Zoro’s he flinches away. 

Sanji blinks at him, “Zoro?” 

“M’ fine.”, he grumbles, quickly flattening his arm against his side and marching ahead. 

Sanji’s lip curls, “You’re going the wrong way.” 

Zoro freezes, his shoulders hiking up further before they’re dropping and a puff of air leaves his lips, he turns his head, the half his face he sees in the faint orange streetlight seems irritated, his brows pulled and vein in his forehead popping, “Let’s talk when we find some place warm.” 

Sanji jogs to catch up to him, “That’s more like it mon cher. ” 

The struggle for an inn drags on like the winter storm, until they finally find a small one tucked into the corner of a street, they would have missed it if not for the neon sign signaling OPEN! In elegant cursive writing. 

It seems like a nice place. 

Painted in warm beiges and decorated with wood, even the couch in the lounge is huge, plush with a woolen blanket thrown over it. 

The Clerk emerges from the office, smiling at them warmy, wearing a soft blue sweater and her blonde hair cascades from a woolen hat, “Hello Gentlemen! How can I help you tonight?!” 

“It’s a shitty night.”, Zoro grumbles. 

Sanji elbows him and he hisses. 

“Hello dear, can you get us a room, preferably with a bath and warm water, please?” 

It’s cheap. 

Concerningly cheap. 

Sanji brings it up to her when she’s leading them to their room. 

She tells them they only charge half price during storms, especially to customers who look like they’ve been wandering through the storm, looking down at their soaked pants and Sanji’s ears go red. 

Zoro offers her a small bow in thanks.

He learns fast. 

It’s tight on spice. 

Sanji can barely walk two steps before his knees knock into the bed. 

But it’s nice. 

His feet instantly warmed by a fluffy white carpet and large bed adorned with too many pillows, a thick white comforter and a soft red throw. There’s a love couch in the corner, also adorned with cushions and the same red throw, and it’s only a few paces until the bathroom, where carpet turns to tile and sits a copper tub. 

Zoro’s already peeled off his layers and dumped them at the entrance, walking to the tub while Sanji’s appreciating the room. Quickly walking over to the tub and turning the knob, shoulders sagging when he feels hot water on his fingers. 

Sanji finds it comical, for a man with a permanent scowl, his body really does all the expressing. 

Zoro sinks into the tub with a sigh, head turning to crack his neck, roll his shoulders, he turns, peering expectantly at Sanji with lidded eye like a lazy cat. 

Sanji huffs, “Fine.” 

When Sanji approaches the tub, Zoro wordlessly shuffles forward and Sanji doesn’t ask the questions about the change in routine as he sinks in behind him. Zoro leans back into him, back pressing to his chest, practically a furnace already and finding Sanji’s hands and clasping them. 

They sit like that for a moment, Zoro leans his head against Sanji’s shoulder, his eyes fluttering shut. 

Sanji waits for him to find his words. 

Smoothing his thumb over the thin scars on his palm. 

“Kizaru’s after Law.” 

“Yeah.” 

“And we’re finding Law.” 

“Yeah.” 

Zoro pauses, gulping, tension working its way into his face, brows furrowing, lips pulling into a frown, Sanji would swipe away the wrinkles in his forehead but Zoro’s grip on his hands tightens. 

“You think Law can beat him?” 

Huh. 

“We’ll find out I guess.”, he jibes, voice soft. 

“Cook.” 

Sanji huffs, his attempt at lightening the mood failing [as usual, Zoro loves brooding too much] 

“Yes Marimo?” 

Zoro shuffles to look at him, “We’re betting everything on finding Law and joining…shouldn’t we be doing something about this?” 

Sanji shakes his head, “What can we do, it’s Kizaru, we might be able to hold him off on a good day but he won’t be alone.” 

“We can’t just sit and watch, it’s…it’s Tra-Guy .” 

Sanji slips his hand out to pinch his brow, “I know.” 

Zoro smiles sharply, the smile of a captain asking his crew to die with him, all pride and a small tinge of fondness, “You want to help.” 

Sanji shakes his head, smiling back, “I do.” 

Zoro lets out an amused huff. 

Sanji drops his chin, his head to his shoulder,  wrapping his arms around his front, “We can help tomorrow.” 

~ * ~ 

“Trafalgar Law.”, Zoro bites out, Wado pressing against the Captain’s protruding stomach, Enma to his neck, “You give me info or I skewer you and make a pork roast out of your corpse.” 

He hears Sanji snort and the swift thud of another body falling to the Cook’s iron legs. 

The Marine Captain pants, beads of sweat dripping down his twisted [broken] nose, Enma’s hilt did a gorgeously brutal job, he carefully raises his white handkerchief and dabs at his forehead. 

“Last we heard he was headed to the Inima Islands, tropical islands east of Wano, really secluded and hard to find…a great hideout for the likes of him.

He turns back briefly to grin at the Cook, who was against his reckl… no, genius plan, of walking in and kicking ass in a more populated marine base at the center of a small city, it’s worked flawlessly. 

Sanji rolls his eyes. He’s stood among a pile of dozens of knocked out marines, they stretch throughout the winding hallways, faces mauled by swelling bruises and cuts, like a storm has gone through them. 

The back of Enma slams into his forehead before the marine’s fingers can pull the trigger. 

~ * ~ 

Sanji invests in buying a map, it’s a hundred and fifty berries and he knows it’s a rip off but it’s better than accidentally ending up in a toxic wasteland like Punk Hazard rather than the Inima Islands. 

He knows their luck. 

Zoro’s out on the deck, Sanji watches curiously, a tension headache already viciously throbbing across his forehead from half an hour of squinting at the map. 

Zoro seems much more relaxed despite training rigorously, beads of sweat sliding down his back and arms, spraying haphazardly with each swing of his katana, he’s fluid, muscles rippling under his skin and stances flowing seamlessly from one to the next, sun kissed skin glistening in the pale sun, he turns, face lax as he’s twisting effortlessly from a downward slash into a sideways one. 

He stops, breathing harshly, chest rising and falling quickly with each breath, His arm lowers to his side and Sanji averts his gaze to scowl at the map again, maybe if he stares hard enough to way to the islands might magically appear- 

He hears a thud.

Sanji’s head snaps up. 

Zoro’s on his knees,  doubled over clutching at his left arm, face scrunched in a pained expression and Wado on the floorboards beside his leg, and Sanji rushes to his side, dropping to his knees and grabbing his shoulder. 

“What’s wrong?!”, he scans over him, looking for a gash or a bruise. 

Zoro laughs, a raspy huff more than anything, “Cramp.” 

Sanji stares at his left arm, it’s shaking slightly, trembling harder when Zoro forces his hand into a fist with a grunt and Sanji grabs his wrist, squeezing it and Zoro’s fingers fall open. 

“You need a break.” 

Sanji tries to remember how long Zoro’s been training, he remembers waking up and seeing the bed empty beside him, quickly looking out the window to see his dark broad silhouette doing push ups when the sun had just begun to rise- 

Zoro shakes his head, eye narrowing, glaring scrutinizingly down at his arm like it’s an inconvenience, “Still too weak.” 

Sanji’s teeth grind together, “Listen overworking yourself won’t-” 

“Last time I fought someone strong I got a hole in my chest and went into a coma.”, Zoro hisses,  grey eye feral as it meets his, “You want that to happen again?” 

Sanji bites the inside of his cheek, for a long stubborn moment wordlessly glaring back before submitting, “Fine!”  

When he checks on him again at lunch he’s doing pushups with his left arm behind his back. 

Stubborn Bastard. 

~ * ~

They pass the day by without saying a word to each other, the moon’s fully risen when Sanji finishes up cleaning the dishes, throwing his button up shirt and pants into the laundry hamper and sliding into his soft oversized t- shirt before quietly walking to bed, Zoro is a still lump laying with the covers pulled over his head, Sanji could mistake him for a corpse if not for the steady rise and fall of his chest. 

Sleep doesn’t come easy to him, so he lays with his eyes closed, focusing on the sounds around him, waves lapping against the ship, the muted hum of the automatic paddles under them and…Sanji counts that right now Zoro has shuffled to change positions for the dozenth time in the night, hears a small muffled groan against the pillow. 

His lip curls, “Soar?” 

“Fuck you.” 

“Want a massage?” 

Silence. 

Sanji hears the sheets rustle, imagines him scowling like the stubborn loser he is. 

Sanji sighs, “I guess I’ll just go back to sleep then-” 

“ Please.”, Zoro grits out, like he’s accepted execution not a massage. 

Sanji gets out of bed with a grin, when he looks down at the swordsman he can make out a faint blush over the bridge of his nose. 

“Idiot.”, he mutters fondly, sinking to his knees and prodding him to turn onto his front and Zoro complies easily, rolling onto his stomach, Sanji drapes a leg over him, straddling his lower back, a grin stretching across his face as he presses his cold fingers into Zoro’s neck and he flinches, muttering curses under his breath but not withdrawing. 

Sanji presses a quick apologetic kiss to his nape, palms pressing into his shoulder blades, carefully kneading the knots of tension out of the skin, moving up to his shoulders and pinching them between his fingers, it feels like massaging a scarred boulder, especially with how taught Zoro’s muscles are, twitching and convulsing under his slender hands. Zoro sinks into the mattress like it’s quick sand, letting out a pleased hum when Sanji rubs circles into his lower back. 

“That wasn’t so horrible was it?”, Sanji preens, grinning down at the still swordsman. 

He gets a loud snore in response. 

~ * ~ 

The Sunny is gone. 

They both sit on the deck in silence. 

The decision to stop where their Nakama died wasn’t ever spoken but it was a silent vow between them when they left Achambha Island.  

Zoro just turned off the automatic paddle and sat outside. Sanji was late to the realization, finishing up his chores and stepping outside hours later at sunset. When he saw the eight cups of sake beside Zoro, and his hands folded together in prayer, reality sunk in. 

It’s impossible to expect to see any trace of their sunken ship but part of Sanji’s horribly naive heart wanted the ship’s head to be poking up, the torn jolly roger to be floating over the waves, desperate for anything . 

But the sea doesn’t care for the dead, she lets them sink to her ghoulish depths. 

Depths so dark that even sunlight surrenders to them.  

What chance does his weak wish have? 

If they had the resources to scuba dive, he’d dive into the ocean and look for it, look for one raven haired and one orange haired siren twirling elegantly to the music of a skeletal ghost playing a violin, let them drag him down with them. 

“We should go.”, Zoro mutters, hazy eyes focused on the moon peeking through the cloudy night sky. His white shirt is a pale blue and his skin almost navy under the moon’s faint light, it makes the shadows under his eyes deeper, monsters of their own. 

“Wait.” 

Sanji shuffles over to a small piece Zoro’s been working on since they began their voyage. It’s rough and uneven, the ridges threaten to pierce him with splinters as he runs the pad of his thumb over them. 

It’s not elegant as Franky’s masterpieces but Sanji would argue it’s art because of its meaning, because of the symbols engraved into its side: a strawhat, a violin, a tangerine, a slingshot, a hoof, a bird, a star and a sun. 

A petite boat symbolizing what they’d lost. 

Sanji keeps his hands from trembling as he places the cups of sake in a circle around a sole candle. 

“They won’t like it.”, Zoro whispers, face twisting into a grimace when Sanji grabs his wrist and forces him to hold onto it too, like he’s holding something repulsive and not months of his work, “Franky made them better-”

“They’ll love it, Zoro.”, Sanji reassures softly, leading them to the edge of their ship. 

Zoro deflates, chest puffing as he inhales and exhales deeply.

Sanji gets to his knees. 

Zoro follows. 

“They will, won’t they? They managed to get the idiot swordsman to do something other than nap.” 

“Yeah.”, Sanji smiles, he glances over at Zoro, his expression has softened too, the impassive line of his lips clashing against his glassy eye. 

They lean over the edge of the boat, easing it onto the gently tossing waves. 

Sanji bites his lip, “They’d want us to move on right?” 

Zoro’s hands find his, holding Sanji’s slender fingers between his callous palms and rubbing them, shielding them against the cold night air. He presses their foreheads together, face painted orange with the candlelight, highlighting lidded eyes, short, thick lashes clumped with tears and a faint smile.

“They’d want us to live.”

They don’t leave. 

They watch the small boat drift away. 

Until the small candle looks like a fallen star, faint and flickering over the infinitely dark canvas of the sea. 

They clink their cups together and drink. 

Silent night filled with the noise of laughter and drunken babbling as they warm their heavy hearts with old stories.

Stories of triumph. 

Stories of adventure.

Stories of humor. 

Stories of their family. 

Chapter Text

Hello Hello!

I hope you are all doing well!

I have decided to temporarily end the story here for now and make it a two- to three-part series. I have the mother of all writer's block and have no idea where to take this story. In a way, I'll no longer be leaving anyone hanging. I have summer classes, and my last semester is coming up. Life is pretty hectic in general, and I'm struggling with coming up with long-term ideas.

I think I will come back to this eventually, but I have no scope of when.

I feel like it's a good spot to end it. With both of them overcoming their grief and heading onto their adventures, there's a sense of closure and moving on.

If you read up to this point, thank you for supporting me and sorry.

I hope I will see you all again!

Cheers,

~ MC

Chapter Text

The small office is packed with pirates. 

The sizeable crew of twenty-one, agitated and pressed shoulder to shoulder in the humid metal room, watching silently as their captain is hunched over a dusty map sprawled across his desk, one hand dragging his pointing finger across it with enough force to draw a line with blood and the other tugs at his raven hair. 

The tension in the room is palpable, deathly silent except for the muted whirring on the submarine and interrupted when one of the panicked crewmembers pulls out an inhaler. 

Puff. 

Inhale. 

Puff. 

Inhale.

The Captain scowls. 

One crewmate grabs the asthmatic one’s wrist. 

“ Stop it!”, he hisses. 

The crewmate splutters, “What, I’m not allowed to breathe now?!”

A white bear smacks them both atop the head, and they crumble, “Shut up!”

The Captain’s teeth grind together. 

Bepo smiles nervously, placing a gentle paw on his Captain’s trembling shoulder, “Say Captain, why did you call this meeting?” 

Law freezes. 

Crewmates scramble out of the door. 

Bepo winces, eyes widening as Law slowly turns his head back like an owl. 

“ What did you say?” 

Bepo gasps. 

“Ruuuun!” 

~ * ~

The government never come after him this relentlessly before. 

He’s never doubted his own and his crew’s capabilities before. 

Yet here he was. 

Undeniably safe on an island that isn’t even marked on most maps, but feeling like there’s a hostile gaze burning into his back, making his skin prickle with goosebumps.   

Law’s hands curl into a fist in the sand. 

The submarine rocks on the shores of the isolated island, its new dents and scratches highlighted by the moon’s pale light. Each one a scar from intense chases and escapes. 

 His eyes linger on the 2-foot dent at its top. 

The time the government got too close. The time their claws nearly tore through his home and plucked his crew out like ants. 

He lets his eyes flutter shut. 

Tries to enjoy the soothing sound of the waves lapping against the shore and the salty ocean breeze ruffling his hair. 

Tries. 

He senses the presence before he hears the sand crunch onder the weight of his foot. 

“Enjoying the night sky, Captain?” 

Law cracks open an eye, “Trying to.” 

Jean settles beside him, pulling his knees to his chest and staring up at the stars sprinkled across the skies.  

“I was thinking something.” 

Law looks at him. 

His tongue darts out to lick his lips, “If we ever get stuck in a spot where we need to leave someon behind, It should be-” 

“Shut up.” 

Jean blinks, “Wha-” 

“The heart pirates don’t leave anyone behind.” 

Jean smiles but something dark settles in his eyes, “I know Captain but…there might be, there will be a time when we won’t be able to follow that.” 

I know. 

“We’ll see then.” 

~ * ~ 

Trafalgar Law’s office has never been remarkable, quite the opposite. 

An unpainted room lined with the dark grey metal paneling of the submarine, walls on the right side hidden behind worn wooden shelves and dusty books, with newspapers pinned to the wall with magnets on the opposite side, a sturdy metal desk that’s been spray painted black and a black leather office chair. 

The sole lighting sources are a loose overhead light and a lamp. 

His crew has tried to liven the place up, adding a few fake houseplants in unoccupied corners and Bepo’s failed attempt at spray painting their emblem on the wall behind his desk with yellow paint. It ran down the walls so the intimidating logo looked like it was bawling its eyes out. 

It’s his perfectly lonely little corner in the submarine.  

He retreats into it to plan [or sulk] because having dozens of sets of eyes peering at him makes it unnecessarily harder. 

He’d die for his crew but they still get on his nerves. 

Kizaru is hard to factor into his plans. 

Intricate battle strategies memorized by his crew and escape routes programmed into the Submarine’s navigation system all hinged on the hope that he could hold Kizaru out for a few seconds and that he wouldn’t bring any other admirals as a back-up.  

Because even if he can fend off a man as fast as light, even if he can slice through asteroids, the thought of dealing with the magma man again makes his stomach churn. 

The transponder snail call with Kizaru had been simple. 

“Come fight me on the ocean, or I will blow up the island.”

The island residded by less than a thousand innocent people who don’t even know Law’s been docked there. 

For men who have the word Justice written on the back of their long white coats, they surely don’t care for it. 

There’s a plan hidden away from them, only whispered to the core few who have the heart to carry it through. 

“If I start losing the fight, you leave me behind and go.” 

Ikkaku frowns, the shadows cast by the glaring overhead light draping half of her face in shadows, making the lines of her furrowed brow seem infinitely deeper. 

Her delicate fingers light up a cigarette, and the trail of smoke spirals lazily between them, “Who else have you told?” 

“Shachi and Penguin.” 

“Not Bepo?” 

“You know why I haven’t told Bepo.” 

“Yeah.” 

Her eyes meet his, cement grey into honey brown. 

He watches her roll her shoulders back. 

Watches a Medic’s resolve strengthen as she salutes. 

“ As you say Captain.” 

~ * ~ 

Looking at Kizaru is like looking at the sun. 

A painfully bright silhouette on the horizon looking down at a pebble struggling against the waves and laughing at its misery. 

Like looking at a god. 

Faster. 

Stronger. 

Not nearly as damaged as he is but capable of wiping his existence with the snap of a finger. 

Law feels iron on his lips as he grins, forcing his broken wrist back into it’s socket and raising his hand. 

At first he could hear his crewmates calling his name but now they’ve submerged into the seas, the small blob of yellow sinking further and further away in the crystal turquoise of the ocean and now all he can hear is his racing heart and the languid ocean breeze. 

The real sun crashes onto the beach, painting the world in hues of orange and gold. 

It’s a beautiful day to die. 

Law closes his eyes and shakes his head. 

Kizaru raises a curious brow. 

No.

It’s a beautiful day to tear another phony god out of the sky

Law spits blood and grins, a translucent blue circle forming around his raising hand. 

“Room.” 

Kizaru crashes into the waves, smug eyes widening behind yellow-tinted sunglasses as Kikou descends towards his chest, but his sword drives into the water as his opponent dissipates into yellow sparkles. 

“Where are you going to go now?”, Kizaru drawls. 

The water soaks into his jeans, waves slightly pushing and tugging at his knees. 

“You’re as soaked as me.” 

“You’re right.” 

The hairs on the back of his neck stand and Law ducks, Kizaru’s light saber driving over his head, and his blue blade slashes into Kizaru’s thigh, he curses and steps back. He analyses the scar with detached interest, a frown pulling on his lips as he tugs at his crimson-stained pant leg, “You ripped my suit, how annoying.” 

Law frowns, “When are you going to take this fight seriously?” 

Kizaru shrugs, “When I take this fight seriously, you die.” 

Law slashes at his head, watches it reform slowly, crystals of light stacking until the smug smile is back on his lips, “Want to die?” 

Law charges. 

To the common eye, they’re a swirl of glowing blue and blazing yellow, electric pulses charging, blobs of light dangerously dancing in the sky and the seas, and clashing and reforming into men every time they startle to a stop for a breath and a quick glance at an injury. 

When threatened Kizaru takes back to the skies, floating above him and raining pellets of light down like bullets, he prepares to attack again, pointing his fingers at Law and balls of light form at his fingertips

“Stay there will you?”, Law mutters under his breath, raising his sword and coating it in his power, his palm hovering above the hilt. 

The breeze is drowned out by his thundering heart and silent mind. 

Both men wait in tense silence, their blows ready to shoot at the twitch of a finger- 

The balls of light fly at Law, mini suns falling from the sky and his injection shot cuts through Kizaru’s shoulder, as the few orbs he couldn’t dodge explode against his body, Law sees Kizaru’s eyes roll back.

Darkness closes around the corners of his vision threateningly, In protecting his vitals, Law feels like he’s sacrificed his limbs, they feel sluggish from dozens of small cuts that he couldn’t defend himself from.  

Yet adrenaline makes his heart pump faster as Kizaru slumps against the sand. 

He limps closer, calling a room and coating his blade with trembling hands. 

As soon as his next step crunches sand under his feet, Kizaru disappears. 

Kizaru appears before him and Law zeros in on his chest and thrusts, Kizaru side-steps, a fatal blow slashing his left arm and Law’s foot explodes with pain.  By the time he swings again, Kizaru’s 20 feet away. 

Law looks down. 

His foot’s been obliterated, a gaping hole in it’s middle and skin sizzling and blistered. 

He can’t run 

“You fought well.” 

Kizaru floats in the sky. 

Law raises his arm, and blue energy flickers on his fingertips for a few fleeting seconds before it fizzles out like a dying flame. 

His hope drops into the oceans, anchored by 26 years of dreams and struggles that will never be fulfilled. 

So this is how it ends. 

Law drops his hand and braces his sword, his foot burns more when he shuffles it back in the sand. 

I’m sorry Corozan-

Something glints in the distance, it catches his eye. His eyes flicker to it. It’s floating on the sea, a small dark blob in front of the blazing sun. A boat, he realizes as he squints, and it has a black flag, one with the emblem of- 

He’s lost it. 

Law laughs to himself. On a better day, he’d cackle, but he feels like his lungs feel like they’ve been emptied out. 

“Now’s not the time to be distracted.”, Kizaru taunts, his head tilted, lips pulled in a sharp grin. 

“You’re right.” 

Both his and Kizaru’s eyes widen at the same time. 

Kizaru’s teeth grind together, and he turns quickly. 

A black haki-clad leg slams into his face, the impact is so profound that Law feels a tremor and the the water ripples from it. Kizaru flies through the air and crashes into a rocky cliff. Sand flies up around him in a cloud. 

A new deity floats in the sky. Occasionally jumping on the air. Wavy blonde hair shines gold in the sunlight. His expression softens as he looks down at Law. 

“Black-leg ya.”, Law breathes. 

Like a dying plant exposed to heavy sheets of rain, he feels hope swell through him again. 

Sanji nods to him, “Tra.”'

Something emerges from the water and Law’s turns quickly.

Zoro emerges from the waves a few feet behind them at the empty dock. An annoyed scowl on his face. His hair is plastered to his forehead and his drenched clothes stick to his body- Law can make out the sinew of his muscles from under his shirt. Law wishes he could feel relief to see him healthier (not pale and comatose) but an ominous energy fringes the air around him, he could swear the skies looks stormier as well. In the shadow that veils Zoro’s eyes, he spots a single glowing eye.

Law feels the hairs on his arms standing-

Haki. He realizes numbly.

He felt the same energy in Wano, when it was Zoro against Kaido, because Luffy was- Law cuts the train of thought off before the memories could bubble back up. The name alone makes the warmth of fondness and the jagged piercing of heartbreak twist through him at the same time. 

Zoro pulls a thick rope out of the water and ties their boat to a pilling. Law sees his mouth moving, he reckons he’s cursing as he takes off his leather boots and flips them over to drain water out of them. He throws his boots onto the boat and walks towards them.

In the distance, Kizaru sits up slowly and grabs his head.

Zoro nods to him before he squints up at Sanji, “We still going through with the plan?”

Sanji puts a hand to his ear, “Huh, can’t hear you up here.”

Zoro grins and flips him off. Sanji does it back.

So they’re courteous as ever.

Law can’t help but smile.

Sanji makes a face, “That…looks wrong.”

“We don’t have time for banter.”, Law points at Kizaru who’s slowly gotten to his feet, his shoulders rising and falling as he huffs like an angry bull, “We have to fight him-”

“We’re fighting him.”, they say at the same time and then blink at each other. Zoro ties his ratty bandana over his forehead, “You watch the ship Law.”, It’s a cordial way of saying ‘you’re too beaten up to fight’.

Law should resist but he doesn’t. Instead, he glances at both of them, he wants to be strong, wants to emulate their captain, even for a brief second, but his voice waivers, “Don’t die you guys.”

Something vulnerable flickers across Zoro’s expression and Sanji looks away, trying (and failing) to hide glassy eyes. Zoro pats his shoulder, he fights down the concerned furrow to his brows as he glances at Law’s body (Something Law hasn’t had the gut to do himself) before looking up at his face, “You neither.”

Law huffs, “I’ll try my best.” Law limps towards the ship. He enjoys the short lull before the storm. He leans his back against the ship’s side and lets his head loll forward. He likes to think it’s trust that has him this relaxed, his eyes lidded and body sluggish.

He peers at the fight in the distance with lidded eyes.