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He hates the cook, the moment they meet. He hates the cook because the blonde sounds like her, even more than the witch does.
He hates the cook, because the cook has the same eyes as her, all tidal waves and flashing blues one moment, then calm seas the next. The first time he sees the cook, Wado hums in his hands and Zoro blinks like a deer in headlights because all he can see his Kuina.
She walks step for step behind the chef, and when Sanji slides by, groveling in front of Nami like the horn dog he is, Zoro thinks he sees Kuina wink playfully, before disappearing as though she were never there.
Like she hasn't been for eight years.
The longer Zoro stares, the more confused he gets. They aren't alike, not in the slightest. Sanji seems to see and covet everything in a woman-- in this ideal of women-- that Kuina always hated and that Zoro hates by extension.
Sanji smokes cigarettes, and Kuina would never ruin her lungs in that way. Its incomprehensible, completely unthinkable for fighters like them, who's techniques depend greatly on their breathing.
Its even more strange to see the blonde take up such a habit, when his cooking hinges directly on his ability to taste. Zoro hears a voice whisper that he does the exact same thing with his inhuman alcohol consumption and he snorts, mentally telling her to shut up.
Well, he supposes that's something Kuina and Sanji seem to have in common. They annoy the ever living shit out of him.
He watches as the blond flits from table to table, hands so skilled in their craft of cooking and serving that it was almost impossible to compare them with the pale long fingers soaked in crimson, holding up a man nearly twice his size.
Zoro feels a tickle in the back of his throat as he jumps out of his seat and makes his way out of the restaurant and to the open ocean-- where Mihawk is waiting. He steals a mug of ale-- a shot of courage, perhaps-- as he glides past a table, ignoring the old man's cry of complaint and throws the doors open.
He meets the gaze of the infamous man, and he asks himself if he's ready to die. He thinks of Kuina, training day and night, strong. Stronger. Always the best. Zoro knows that if it were Kuina in his place right now instead of him, then there'd be a new strongest swordsman. Somewhere inside, he realizes that he's not ready.
The fight is brief, so brief that it is in fact, nothing short of a merciful slaughter. Through the haze of fog and blood and frustration, he hears a strangled yell.
"Just give up on your ambitions!"
It slices through the sounds of his heartbeat and his pulse thrashing and even in the midst of accepting death over defeat, Zoro feels his blood begin to simmer dangerously. Because how dare the blond tell him to give up, when this is all he's been chasing. There is no purpose, if there's no sword fighting. He simply is nothing without Kuina.
Mihawk seems impressed, and he offers Zoro his respect, dealing the last blow with careful precision and a tiny smile gracing his stony features. He falls back into the ocean and the last thing he sees is Sanji's hunched figure. The sight makes his heart wrench in an unfamiliar, painful way, and he finds himself apologizing quietly to the open air.
His vision is darkened around the edges, he thinks he hears his beloved childhood friend tell him to find another purpose. To find something for himself, and only himself. Zoro remembers the boy with dark hair, and worn in straw hat. He remembers gifting the kid with the title captain with chest heaving Zoro smiles, tears falling down his cheeks, mingling with blood.
He declares his life, blade, and loyalty to the 2nd Pirate King. The boy who could stretch, who Zoro knows without knowing how, will shake the world to its core, as his own name reaches the heavens.
Its possible, also, that he vows to make the blond smile one day, to make up for the mess he caused.
Zoro realizes, albeit belatedly, that perhaps Sanji is unaware that he doesn't hate him. And that, in turn, the chef can hardly stand to be in his presence. It fills the swordsman with unease, he doesn't like the disappointment that follows every harsh insult. He doesn't like the very real, very serious way that Sanji snarls whenever he's near, and the way he makes it absolutely clear that Zoro only gets fed because of decent morality. They are not friends, and the knowledge makes his throat tighten, air way blocked and a sensation like dragging thorns.
The swordsman is miffed, and responds using the same energy he receives, throwing jibes as quickly and fluently as he receives them. He makes fun of the chef's eyebrow as much as he can because it is the only imperfection that he can spot and that baffles the 19 year old.
On a logistic level, he knows all of Sanji's bad habits. He can list them off, even in his sleep, but when faced with those tumultuous eyes, those eyes that scream they suffer, he can only pick the least inconsequential characteristic.
Luffy notices, and corners him. Luffy's eyes are dark and his voice grave as he says, "Sanji isn't ready yet. He doesn't get it." and its scary how well his captain knows him. Its downright terrifying to be seen through so easily, with such little effort.
Sanji comes, Sanji goes, more consistent than the tides and Zoro can't help but continue to make metaphors because there is nothing more fitting for the chef than the ocean. They are one in the same, so shifty and yet steadfast. The swordsman has no idea what to make of it, the way the chef seems to scramble his feelings with the same ease as an egg.
The thought of Sanji leaving him is so painful he almost doubles over, spending the day picking fights with the chef, relishing in each small, solid touch. Taking comfort in each kick and the following knowledge that the chef is here and not another phantom that will slip through his grasp.
Zoro clutches his heart and wonders if this is what love is like. A constant state of fear and worry, coupled with the rush of standing at the edge of a cliff.
He is falling. He is scared, so scared. The last person who fell had died.
Zoro is not afraid of death. Zoro is not afraid of falling. He is afraid of what might happen in the slim to none chance that the chef begins to slip as well.
So Zoro pushes him away. Far away from the edge, away from the precipice.
He is only like this with the chef, always careful with his words, despite what it appears from the outside. Luffy knows, because Luffy always knows and he doesn't like it. But Zoro doesn't care, and keeps his distance.
Always watching, studying. He learns by watching the cook. He learns that the blond's grace is not natural, it is forced, movements careful and contained, folded inwards and kept small. He learns that the blond, despite broadcasting his masculinity, treats his body in the stereotypical actions of a woman. He sits with his legs closed, fusses over his appearance and fawns over compliments sent his way like a demure village woman.
Sanji makes himself smaller and Zoro learns in Thriller Bark that its because he think's that others deserve the space more.
Its a ridiculous notion, a conclusion only someone as stupidly selfless as the cook could come up with. He shields the swordsman, offering his head and the 19 year old feels a thrum of panic.
This sacrifice is completely different from his own. This sacrifice is born from a sense of inferiority and worthlessness. This sacrifice is Sanji finally making himself small enough for the rest.
Sanji is saying goodbye.
Sanji is falling, but not in the way he wants, not in the way that matters. Sanji is falling into despair, Sanji is falling into self depreciation. Sanji is falling into himself, crumbling away from the inside. Sanji is going, going, sand slipping between his fingers so Zoro runs, Zoro surges forward and snatches the blond by his arm.
Without his consent, or maybe it's some hidden part of him, the part that he tries to gag and shove into the recesses of his mind. The part that fed him dreams and gave his heart hope. Perhaps it is that part that grants his body permission.
Allows him to finally grab Sanji's hand in his own, watch the blond's smug expression at having finally gotten his death wish granted, only for it to turn to shock when Zoro grabs fistfuls of the black suit jacket, straddling the chef and shoving their lips together in a messy clash.
The sensation of euphoria that he feels is unlike anything he's ever experienced in his life, which was says something considering the fact that Zoro is pretty sure they're doing it all wrong. Sanji hands are stiff and awkward on his back, tentatively stroking up and down as though he were a troubled teen in need of comfort. And are their noses supposed to be mashed up like that?
Let alone the fact that his arms are starting to cramp up from the odd bent angel they're in, still clutching the fabric.
It's totally armature, without a doubt. But Zoro finds that it's still ranked as the best feeling in his whole life, second only to the time he once came close to beating Kuina.
He knows that Kuma is there, that Luffy is knocked out, that if they don't act soon their captain will be dead. He knows there's no time, so he rakes his eyes over Sanji's flushed, bloody face and stokes creamy blond locks.
"Don't leave." He whispers, burying his face in crook of the chef's neck. "I love you. Don't leave me behind."
Like a coward, he knocks Sanji out, before the latter can respond.
He stands, facing Kuma and prepares to die.
Zoro never did make Sanji smile.