Archive of Our Own ^beta

  Zoro didn’t want to think. Thinking slowed him down.

  Instead he meditated. Slowed the world around him, hyper-focused his senses. He could zone in on anything he wanted to this way. In kendo it was called zanshin— an eternal sea of calm that was by no means lax. His opponent, clad in white, took up a jōdan stance. Of course he would. He was tall, taller than Zoro. He went for the head strike, but it was almost too easy to block and parry. The next few seconds were a flurry of motion, but Zoro, with fluid grace and ferocity, claimed a wrist strike and later a head strike to seal his victory. He barely heard the crowd erupt in cheers and applause even as he pulled off his head and neck armor. Someone handed him his towel and he muttered his thanks. He was off-kilter today and he knew it. There was never a time he went to a match feeling this way. He pressed the heel of his palm to his forehead, sighing. Maybe he shouldn’t have gone to Ace and Luffy’s last night. Drinking himself stupid didn’t normally affect him the next day but maybe this time was different. For some reason.

   Could ask Chopper about it , he thought to himself, shouldering his sports duffel. 

  “Leaving already, Roronoa?” Hachi put an arm around Zoro’s shoulders. “I’m not even up yet.”

  “Sorry, man. Kind of busy today. I’ll make it up to you?”

  Hachi grinned. “Fight me once.”

  “Yeah, yeah. Tomorrow.” Zoro felt the need to smirk. “Don’t disappoint me again.”

  Hachi’s grin grew wider and he clapped Zoro across the back. “We’ll see about that.”

  They bid each other goodbye. Outside the auditorium, Zoro hefted his bag higher and fished out his phone. He would never admit it to anyone, but he had trouble finding his way around sometimes. If things like Google Maps didn’t exist, he would probably have been found dead in a ditch a hundred miles from home a long time ago. It wasn’t easy on his ego to think about that so he didn’t. He was about to open a GPS app when he noticed he had a bunch of unread messages from an unknown number. He rolled his eyes. Spam messages were so irritating to deal with. They cluttered his otherwise orderly inbox. 

  Before he could delete the entire thread, the message preview caught his eye. 

   I SWEAR TO GOD IF YOU TELL ANYONE WHAT WE DID, I…

  Zoro scowled. What the hell was this? He’d never seen a spam message start off like that before. It was probably a misdial then. Did he care enough to tell the person on the other end that they’d gotten the wrong number? Not really, but the message sounded important enough that he felt it would bug his conscience for the rest of the day. He opened up the thread and quickly typed out an apologetic reply. 

   hey sorry i think someone gave you the wrong number. hope everything works out for you

  There. That seemed polite enough to pass even by Nami’s standards. The witch was always on his case about talking to people like a “normal human being” and not just grunting all the time “like a gorilla.” He didn’t do that, obviously. He talked to people like anyone would, he just didn’t like wasting his breath. 

  His phone dinged. 

   you absolute motherfucker. DONT YOU FUCKING BACKREAD. dont talk to me im blocking you. fuck you, fucking marimo 

  Zoro’s frown deepened. Marimo…?  

  Against his better judgment, he decided to ignore what the stranger told him to do and backread his last messages. And as he did, his eyebrows rose higher and higher up into his hairline.

  hey sexy wyd 

  i jsut got hoem

  thignkin abotug u

  miss u

   Zoro reread the short texts and noted they’d been sent in more or less 20 minute intervals after he had (presumably) passed out in some room last night. He felt himself grimace. Had he actually been so drunk that he’d fucked someone without remembering a single detail? No way. Neither Ace nor Luffy had said anything to him that suggested he’d even hit it off with anyone at the party. He kept scrolling. The next few texts were sent several hours later.

   Whoever you are, fuck you and forget about everything i said. I was drunk and i wasnt serious. I thought you were someone else. Dont ever contact me.

  Dont you even dare tell anyone what happened

  I SWEAR TO GOD IF YOU TELL ANYONE WHAT WE DID, IM GOING TO KILL YOU AND IM GOING TO ENJOY IT

  Something about the last text made Zoro chuckle. No, not just the last text. The whole thread of messages was tugging at the edges of his mouth, threatening to make him smile. He was suddenly struck with the urge to poke the bear. It was probably unwise. He didn’t even know who this person was.

   a little talkative for someone who doesnt wanna contact me anymore

  He sent it without thinking. He had no idea if this person had actually even been at Ace and Luffy’s. They could very well have just gotten the wrong number. The marimo insult however, did feel rather targeted. Zoro scratched his head and then shrugged. Eh, what was the big deal? It was just a text. His phone dinged again.

   shut the fuck up asshole im seriously blocking you

  This time he felt his own reply coming up faster.

   i dare you

   I AM. BLOCKING. YOU.

   sure you are

  When no reply came, Zoro figured the stranger had followed through and blocked him at last. He closed his inbox and brought back his GPS. He had to admit, it was a little disappointing that the stranger had given in so fast, but Zoro didn’t know them and it didn’t really matter. He was a little disturbed by the possibility that he had slept with someone he didn’t remember, but as always, thinking too much slowed him down. He exhaled and started on his way home.

  The next morning after his match with Hachi (Which he won. Easily.), Zoro was downing a bottle of water when he got a new text and almost choked when he realized it was that stranger from yesterday. 

   Do you really not remember anything

  Zoro stared at the message, wondering what to do. He didn’t know how long he’d been staring until Ace put a hand on his shoulder. When Zoro looked up at him, Ace grinned and jabbed a thumb at his phone.

  “That your new girl?”

  Zoro swiftly pocketed his phone and tapped the empty water bottle on Ace’s head. “No. I don’t do that anymore.”

  Ace shrugged. “Would do you a lot of good to let loose a little bit though.”

  “I do just fine,” Zoro said shortly. He paused. “Hey, Ace?”

  “Yeah?”

  “Did I… Was I talking to anyone the other night?”

  Ace rubbed his chin thoughtfully, looking like he was struggling to remember. “I don’t think so. Not that I saw anyway.” He frowned. “Actually, I didn’t see much of you at all that night.”

  Zoro felt his shoulders sag. It wasn’t a confirmation, but it added to the uncertainty of the situation. Still unsure of what to reply with, he put his phone back in his duffel and went back to training. 

  Once lunchtime rolled around, he found himself back on his way home. Ace had invited him out somewhere but Zoro had turned him down. The message was burning a hole in his pocket. For some reason he couldn’t understand, he didn’t want to keep the other end waiting too long. Finally, once he’d reached his apartment, he reached for his keys.

  Someone cleared their throat.

  Zoro looked up, immediately placing himself in a defensive stance. Someone was watching him. 

  Dressed in a button-up white shirt with its sleeves folded at the elbows and black straight-cut jeans over a couple of dress shoes was quite possibly the most attractive man Zoro had ever seen in his life. His frame was lean, but anyone could see he was well-built. He stood as if confidence came easy to him—and why wouldn’t it? The man exuded charisma in a way Zoro had never seen anyone do. He gaped at the stranger, who pulled a burning cigarette from his lips and crushed it underfoot. 

  “Hey,” the stranger said. He was blond, his hair falling in a way that obscured his left eye. That was when Zoro started. The stranger’s visible eye was a clear blue. And it burned. The quiet fury of it felt powerful enough to level a forest—and Zoro was the sole focus of it. “I got your address from Luffy.”

  Zoro found his voice. “What the hell? Who are you?”

  The stranger looked at him long and hard before sighing. “You really don’t remember anything? ”

  A familiar question. The facts clicked together in Zoro’s head. “You’re the guy who got the wrong number.”

  The stranger pressed his lips together into a thin line. “Sure.”

  Zoro relaxed his stance and immediately felt a little awkward. What was he even supposed to say? He’d sort of teased the guy over… over what? He didn’t know anything of what happened between them at Ace and Luffy’s. Trying to rile him up had been… almost instinct. “Wait,” Zoro said abruptly, “you know Luffy?”

  This time, the stranger brought his whole palm from his forehead down to his mouth. “You fucking idiot,” he growled. “You really don’t remember a single fucking thing!”

  “What the hell are you talking about?” Zoro was feeling the irritation bubble up inside of him. He didn’t like where this was going. 

  “The fucking party, asshole! The fucking… pool table. The—The drinks?” The stranger pinched the bridge of his nose in exasperation. “You know what, never the fuck mind. This is a waste of time.”

  Zoro narrowed his eyes as the stranger pulled a new cigarette from a pack and lit up. “Sounds like you don’t remember much either.” 

  The accusation made the stranger flush the lightest pink. It was kind of adorable—in a really annoying sort of way. “I obviously remember more than you do.”

  “So what do you want then?” Zoro crossed his arms. “Why are you here?”

  “Honestly, I don’t know.” The stranger closed his eyes and smoke billowed from his lips. “I was here before I even realized it.” He shoved his hands into his pockets. “Look, I’m sorry for wasting your time alright? We can just forget about everything and move on.”

   What am I supposed to forget when I don’t remember jack shit , Zoro thought irritably. Nothing about this was even remotely comfortable, but he didn’t feel right about completely letting it go either. From what he could tell, the stranger was pretty reluctant about just “forgetting and moving on.”

  “What’s your name?” Zoro blurted, unthinking. 

  “Sanji.” 

  “Sanji,” Zoro repeated. He felt a little dumb. Was a guy’s name supposed to be pretty? It sounded kind of pretty. He wasn’t sure what was happening. He had been sure until just this second that he wasn’t gay. “Do you wanna come inside?”

  He regretted it the second he said it. What was he doing? Of course Sanji would say no. A few minutes ago, he’d been radiating enough anger to make Chopper freeze up in terror. Besides, why did he want to invite Sanji in anyway? Was it the awkward atmosphere? The idea had just slipped right out of him before he could consider it. Zoro didn’t enjoy thinking too hard but he knew he wasn’t stupid. So why was he inviting Sanji to come into his apartment?

  Sanji had taken a moment to blink at Zoro in surprise before saying, “Uh… sure.” 

  Zoro nodded and unlocked his apartment door. He stood to the side and let Sanji in first before going in after him and closing the door behind him. 

  “Oh, wait a sec,” he said suddenly. “Shoes here.”

  Sanji raised an eyebrow but didn’t question him and toed off his shoes by the door. They both walked into the kitchenette-slash-dining room. Zoro was inwardly grateful to his obsession with keeping everything mostly organized. It at least ensured his apartment didn’t look like absolute shit when someone other than him walked in.

  In the living room, he let his duffel fall to the floor. “There’s tea in one of the cabinets. Far right,” he told Sanji, who was hovering around the kitchenette.

  Sanji ignored him (much to his annoyance) and instead opened the fridge and made a strangled sort of noise. He turned to Zoro and gestured at the contents of the fridge. “You live like this?” He looked disgusted.

  Zoro scowled at him. “I don’t normally cook my own stuff. Microwaveable is just fine.” Nami got on his case about it a lot too. It always annoyed the hell out of him. It wasn’t like he was going to die . 

  “You’re not just an idiot. You’re a fucking caveman.” Sanji looked exasperated.

  “Excuse me?” Zoro bristled. “Does this place look like a cave to you?”

  “Even a caveman can learn to keep his shit looking neat and tidy.” 

  He ground his teeth together. Not even five minutes into being in his apartment and this Sanji guy was already pissing him off. Before he could say anything however, Sanji was digging stuff out of his fridge and laying it out on the counter.

  “I’m making us lunch,” he said. “I’m starving and I am not microwaving anything .”

  Something stirred in Zoro’s stomach. He put a hand on it. He was probably hungrier than he had expected. This wasn’t how hunger normally felt though. “Go ahead, I guess,” he told Sanji. “I’m going to shower.”

  Lunch with Sanji was a formidable affair. The particulars of the situation fully sunk in while Zoro was in the shower and he wanted nothing less than to just walk out and see no one there. What was he even supposed to say? To do? What made him think, even for a split second, that this was a good idea? 

  After he got dressed and stepped out of the bathroom with a towel around his neck, he was immediately overcome by the most delicious smell. He remembered, suddenly, that he hadn’t eaten in hours and the last thing he’d had was an energy drink and a couple of rice balls from the convenience store. Whatever Sanji was making, it was good. 

  “Oh, back already?” Sanji grinned over his shoulder at Zoro.

  “Uh, yeah.” Zoro hadn’t realized the smell had drawn him to the kitchenette. He craned his neck over to see Sanji stirring a pot over the stove. “What’s that?”

  “Seeing as you literally had nothing in your fridge except beer and sake,” Sanji said flatly (although Zoro could clearly tell he was pleased with himself), “I was pretty shocked you had all this good fish lying around.”

  “I like fish,” Zoro said simply. “Someone just gave that to me though.” 

  “They would’ve gone bad in a couple more days.” 

  “It was for Christmas.”

  Sanji shook his head. “Zoro, you really live like this?”

  Zoro scowled. “I don’t see a problem with how I get my food. S’long as I eat something, I’m not going to die.” He would only realize much later that Sanji had even called him by name.

  “Whatever. I’m not going to fight you about your shitty diet before we eat. Go sit or something. I’ll be done in ten minutes.”

  The dining room was really just a table and a couple of chairs next to the kitchenette so when Zoro took his seat, he was still close enough that he could see Sanji at work. He placed his elbow against the table and let his chin rest on his palm. His eyes traced Sanji’s shoulders down to his elbows, lingering on his tapered waist. His jeans only loosely hugged his thighs and calves, but they offered a decent silhouette. They also happened to end just above Sanji’s ankles. Skinny and pale, they were almost— almost —like a woman’s. Zoro inwardly groaned and closed his eyes. Had he really been staring at a man’s ankles just now?

  To get his mind off of Sanji’s figure, Zoro tried to think of that night at Ace and Luffy’s. He remembered sticking close to one corner, a whole Bacardi in one hand, phone in the other. He hadn’t planned on talking to anyone. He never did at these things. He only went because Ace and Luffy both asked him to and yet for some reason, no one else he knew was there. Then at some point, he’d just completely lost track of where either brother had gone. Resigned, he had picked a spot he didn’t think anyone would purposely approach and sat down, minding his own business and exuding as much of a “don’t-talk-to-me” aura as possible. After that… his memories were a mosaic blur. He vaguely remembered climbing up some stairs, which would explain how he found himself on the second floor the next morning. 

  The smell and promise of food pulled Zoro out of his thoughts and back to the present. Sanji was setting up the table. Zoro jumped to his feet, realizing belatedly that he hadn’t even bothered to grab any plates. Sanji waved him down and said, “It’s fine. I got this.”

  The table was set and the food was served. Sanji stood with his hands proudly set on his hips. “ Bon appétit .” 

  Zoro’s eyes went wide. Laid out on his table was a meal of fish in some kind of sauce, white rice, and steamed vegetables. The kind of meal he would only ever see when he went out to lunch with Luffy, Nami, and Usopp. 

  “You made all this? From… whatever was in my fridge?” Zoro looked at Sanji with a mixture of admiration and gratitude. He could see Sanji’s ears turn pink. 

  “Well, yeah.” Sanji rubbed the back of his neck, looking sheepish. “I’m in culinary arts. North U.”

  Zoro nodded slowly. “This looks amazing. Thank you, Sanji.”

  Sanji seemed to bite his lip before he quickly sat down and they both took that as the cue to dig in. Neither of them spoke until all the food was gone. Zoro was too busy having his mind blown by how incredible Sanji’s cooking was. After a few minutes, he finally let out a contented sigh and leaned back against his chair.

  “Wow,” he said softly. He sat back up. “You’re really good at this.”

  “Thanks.” Sanji looked both embarrassed and uncomfortable. He was avoiding Zoro’s eye. He fidgeted in his seat. “So,” he said slowly, “you do kendo?”

  Zoro blinked and when Sanji gestured at his sports duffel with the words East University Kendo Team printed on it, he relaxed. “Oh. Yeah. I, uh, I like swords.” When Sanji barked a laugh, Zoro glared at him and muttered, “Shut up.” 

  “I do capoeira in my free time. And taekwondo. I’m pretty good.” 

  Zoro felt his ears prick up. “You do martial arts? And cook?”

  Sanji frowned. “Yeah, so?”

  “Nothing. It’s just… I’ve never heard of anyone who…”

  “Yeah, I know.” He chuckled. “I get that a lot.” He pulled out a pack and looked questioningly at Zoro.

  “It’s fine.”

  “I’ll open a window.” Sanji got up. “We should clean up.”

  They worked in tandem. There was something oddly comforting about the newfound casual atmosphere between them. Zoro didn’t dislike it. He didn’t know much about Sanji, but he was growing to like the guy. The party was still an awkward subject to broach and so he purposely avoided it, but it wasn’t actually that hard to. They were able to talk about almost anything. School, hobbies, friends.

  “I’ve known Ace and Luffy forever,” Zoro was telling Sanji as he dried the dishes with a towel. “Since elementary I think.”

  “Yeah?” Sanji took a drag on his cigarette. “I met them my freshman year in uni. They ate someplace I work part-time. Somebody Ace knew was there, called him some names, and Luffy started a fight.” He laughed softly. “That guy is strong .”

  Zoro grinned. “That he is.”

  “So you probably know everyone else then?”

  “Yeah. Nami, Usopp, Chopper, Franky, Robin, Brook… I don’t see the others much these days besides Nami and Usopp though.”

  Sanji nodded. Franky was working on his graduate degree, Robin on her doctorate. Chopper was a med student and, well, the poor kid barely had time for anything else. Brook had landed a daytime job as a music professor at West University and one of his most recent Soundcloud tracks had gone insanely viral last month. He was more popular now than he had ever been and he had confided in his friends that there were talks with a couple of labels interested in his work.

  “Where d’you work part-time?” Zoro asked, leaning his back against the counter.

  “ The Baratie, ” Sanji said, crushing his cigarette and tossing it in a waste can. 

  Zoro whistled. “That classy place downtown?”

  Sanji nodded, smiling. “I live there. Second floor is where some of the staff stay, including me.”

  There was something about the way Sanji spoke that invited no further questions. Zoro crossed his arms. “I do kendo at uni, but I practice iaido at a local dojo.”

  Sanji looked at him, curious. “ Iaido ?”

  Zoro smiled. “Lemme show you something.”

  He led Sanji into the living room. A couch, a low coffee table, and a small TV took up most of the space but off to one side was a bookshelf filled with trophies, photos, and a few books. Just above the shelf hung a black curtain. He pulled it aside, revealing what was mounted on the wall.

  Three katanas, sheathed in their saya .

  “Are those…?” Sanji looked at Zoro incredulously. “Like… real ones?”

  Zoro pulled one down and unsheathed it. The blade shone menacingly in the afternoon light. “This one is Shuusui .” He gestured to the next one. “That’s Sandai Kitetsu .” He put back Shuusui and carefully brought down the third one. “ Wado Ichimonji .” As they always did when he held the Wado , memories of a long-ago rival appeared in the back of his mind. 

  “Wow,” Sanji breathed, eyeing the sheathed blade admiringly. “So… you fight with these? In iaido ?”

  Zoro laughed. “Well, no.” He put the katana back on the wall and pulled the curtain shut. “Not… officially anyway. Iaido is mostly about form and technique. I can… show you sometime. If you’re interested.”

  “I’m very interested,” Sanji said, smiling widely. He seemed thoughtful. “We definitely need to spar sometime.”

  “Spar? You and me?” Zoro considered the idea. 

  “What, you don’t think I could beat you?” Sanji’s eyes were alight, even the one hidden behind a curtain of blond hair. “Think again, asshole. I’m stronger than you think.”

  They were closer than they’d ever been. Sanji had gotten all up in his face and Zoro could feel his pulse quickening. Even just eye contact was electric. He couldn’t look away. No one had ever looked at him like that before—like a predator watching its prey. “You’re on then,” he managed to say. By some miracle, he’d kept his voice even. Sanji straightened with a self-satisfied smirk. 

  “This Friday? I’ll come to East at 7pm. That’s the earliest I can get off my shift.”

  “Picking me up?” Zoro bit back a smile. “Sounds like a date.”

  Sanji flushed. “I didn’t mean it like that, idiot marimo .”

  “You called me that before. You speak Japanese?”

  “I used Google.” He paused. “And I asked you.”

  “You asked me?”

  “Yeah at the party.” Sanji was looking increasingly uncomfortable and agitated. “I asked you if it made sense. And you said yeah it did.” 

  Zoro looked at him for a while. Was it worth making things a bit awkward? The look on Sanji’s face was really, really attractive. Zoro licked his lips. No, maybe he shouldn’t ask.

  “Friday then,” he said. 

  “You have my number.”

  “You have mine.”

  They exchanged looks again. It was hard not to smile. Whether he knew what happened between them that night or not didn’t seem to matter. Having the secret hang between them added a layer of seduction in Zoro’s mind. He almost didn’t want to know. There were things he wanted to learn firsthand. 

  Or did he? Really?

  He stepped away from Sanji and that was that. The rest of their conversations until Sanji went home were just as casual as before, but Zoro knew they’d both become slightly more guarded. When Sanji was gone, he sank into the couch and let out the sigh he’s been holding in. His arm lay across his face as he leaned back, his grin almost unbearably wide. He knew he was in trouble. He hadn’t (officially) met Sanji until today and yet he felt, more than anything, that there was something different about himself when he was with the blond. He felt stupidly happy, stupidly excited for Friday night. He hadn’t felt this way in years. It was kind of gross. He grinned wider.

  He was really, really looking forward to Friday.

  Friday arrived almost way too slowly. Zoro waited outside the auditorium, long after Ace and Hachi had left. He checked the time. 7:10. Mr Fancypants Cook was late. Feeling a little jumpy, Zoro tried to shake off the excess energy. He thought about Sanji again and the way he looked from behind as he worked on making the best lunch Zoro had ever had in his life. 

  The midsummer night air was almost stifling. He pulled at his collar, feeling sweat trickle down his neck and into the groove of his collarbone. For a split second he worried he would smell… but he remembered he and Sanji were going to spar anyway. His fingers wrapped around the strap of the long black case on his back. He’d brought his swords, but he doubted he would use them on Sanji… He rarely ever raised his swords on anyone. Not since Mihawk. 

  It wasn’t trauma. Any other opponent was simply not worth it. Under normal circumstances, he wouldn’t even have brought a single sword tonight and yet… 

  “ I’m stronger than you think .”

  The look in Sanji’s eye a few days ago had stirred something in Zoro. Sanji wasn’t just being conceited. Somehow, Zoro had sensed that. He’d felt real strength, real power in not only Sanji’s words but also his very presence.

  A few minutes later, Zoro saw the man himself running toward him. Sanji arrived, bent over, and tried to catch his breath.

  “Sorry,” he panted. “My boss didn’t want to let me go.”

  Zoro smiled. “I was starting to think you were gonna chicken out.”

  “ Excuse me? ” The blond was glaring daggers at him, perhaps even breathing fire. “I would never run from a fight. I’m not a coward. Fuck you.”

  “I know you aren’t.” Zoro hefted the case and his duffel up higher on his shoulder. “I’m still going to win though.”

  “You’re going to fucking eat those words, you fucking marimo .”

  Zoro had asked special permission at the dojo he practiced at to allow for his and Sanji’s sparring session. It wouldn’t normally be permitted but Zoro actively took care of the dojo alongside its aged owner. If he swore he wouldn’t permanently destroy anything he couldn’t replace, his word would be taken for it. 

  The place itself was divided into an outdoor and indoor area. Fortunately, the outdoor space was well-lit even at night in case anyone wanted to squeeze in a few hours after closing. Zoro stood at the edge of the wooden flooring, beyond which was the outdoor area—a sizable plot of ground that was surrounded by intricately designed zen gardens. Sanji was already outside, warming up.

   Zoro gripped the wooden frame of the shoji. This was probably his last chance to decide whether or not he was going to use his swords on Sanji. It would be easy enough to grab some shinai instead. 

  No.

  He was going to take Sanji seriously. More than anyone he had ever faced. There had been something—something incredible about the look Sanji had given him right before he had said the challenge was on. With the fire stoked inside of him, Zoro opened up the case he had with him and took out his swords. He had already warmed up and put on his haramaki . 

  When he finally stepped out into the night, Sanji was grinning from ear to ear.  

  “What are you smiling about?” Zoro said in a mock-teasing tone.

  “Nothing,” Sanji said, a little singsongy. “Let’s get this started.”

  “I’m still going to win,” Zoro reminded him.

  “Shut up,” Sanji snapped, but he was smiling.

  Zoro laughed breathily and unsheathed his swords. Wado in his mouth between his teeth, Shuusui and Sendai Kitetsu in either hand. When Sanji saw him do this, he balked.

  “ All three ? You use all three of them at the same time? ”

  “Yeah, I do,” Zoro said, smiling around the Wado . “Scared yet, Curly?”

  That seemed to get Sanji. “I’m going to absolutely wipe the fucking floor with you,” he said, lowering his stance.

  “Try it.”

  An unspoken cue. The fight was on. The two men stared each other down, waiting. Sanji seemed to lose patience first. He closed the distance between them and in one smooth motion, swept his legs underneath Zoro in an attempt to bring him down. Zoro nimbly jumped out of the way, brought his swords up. This time he closed in on Sanji, slashing in unforgiving, devastating arcs. Sanji looked almost ecstatic. He dodged every arc with almost inhuman ease and even parried some out of the way with just his legs. 

   He’s not using his hands , Zoro noted. Was it a handicap? 

  There was no time to think. Sanji was on him again. He had his hands on the ground, twirling around and aiming successive blows at Zoro with his legs. While Zoro was able to fend him off, the swordsman was forced to admit just how powerful Sanji’s legs were. Every time they made contact with the backs of his swords, Zoro could feel the impact reverberate throughout his body. 

  That was how their exchange went for a while. A constant rhythm of back and forth. Zoro was having the time of his life and, if Sanji’s grin was any indication, so was he. After several minutes of a stalemate, Sanji’s leg connected with Zoro’s side in a move that took the latter by surprise. Sanji had feinted to that side, fooling Zoro into guarding from there. But his feint had been double-layered. His eyes moved opposite his body, glancing left when he struck to the right. 

  Zoro took the pain with a grunt, knowing his ribs would bruise the next day. In the split second that Sanji had landed the blow, he was wide open. Zoro retaliated, bringing one sword down on Sanji, where neck met shoulder in lean, muscled flesh. His second blow met Sanji’s stomach. 

  Sanji caved, hands on his stomach as he went down. Zoro was on him in an instant, swords crossed over each other, Sanji’s neck caught at the intersection.

  “Yield,” Zoro said in a low voice.

  Sanji growled at him—Sanji growled at him! Zoro resisted the urge to laugh. Eventually the blond’s hands went up. “Fine,” he said, glaring up at Zoro. “You got me. Lucky shot.”

  Zoro stepped back, pulling Wado out of his mouth and sheathing all three of his swords. He offered Sanji his hand and the blond seemed to hesitate before he reluctantly accepted the help. Once they were both standing, they both winced.

  “Ow, jeez, are your legs made of steel or something?” Zoro groaned, hand on his side. 

  “No but your swords literally are,” Sanji snapped lightheartedly, nursing both his shoulder and his stomach. 

  “I used the backs.”

  “I know. Am I supposed to thank you for not killing me?”

  “Uh… yes?”

  Sanji looked at him for a long moment before he burst out laughing. “Yeah… Yeah I guess I should,” he said after he’d caught his breath. “Thank you, Zoro. For taking me seriously.” He smiled. “That was a good fight.”

  They headed inside the dojo to drink water and examine their injuries. 

  “This is gonna smart tomorrow,” Sanji muttered, wincing when he accidentally poked his own bruise too hard. “Actually it already does now.” 

  “You’re not the only one.” Zoro put his Thermos to his lips and gulped a generous amount of water down. 

  “Can I have some of that?” 

  “Sure.”

  Zoro handed Sanji the Thermos unthinkingly and once Sanji was tipping his head back, Zoro was left utterly transfixed on the blond’s Adam’s apple as it bobbed up and down. When he realized he’d been staring, he looked away and got back to packing up his swords. Sanji pulled the Thermos from his mouth with a sigh and set it down on the floor between him and Zoro. 

  “Thanks,” he said.

  “Don’t mention it,” Zoro replied automatically.

  Sitting in silence while Sanji lit up a cigarette, Zoro was suddenly overcome by a torrent of questions, most of which weren’t even really questions—just words. Feelings. Zoro Roronoa didn’t do feelings. The last time he had, it’d been near impossible to move on. He found himself picking the Wado back up and running his hand along its saya . 

  “That one’s your favorite,” Sanji said, breaking the silence. 

  Zoro didn’t look up. “Someone important to me owned this a long time ago,” he said quietly. 

  “Someone who taught you?”

  “Kind of.” He chuckled. If Kuina heard him say that… “She indirectly taught me a lot of what I know.”

  “Oh.” Sanji’s voice was soft. When Zoro looked up, he saw that the cook had drawn closer to him but his eyes were downcast, perhaps looking at the Wado . “You still talk?”

  “She’s dead.”

  “… Oh. I’m so sorry.”

  Zoro put the Wado away in its case. “It’s fine, it was a long time ago. A really long time ago.” He paused. “We used to train together at her dad’s place as kids. We were rivals. Well, I considered her that. No idea if she even saw me as a threat, ever. She said she wanted to be the best swordsman on earth.” Zoro could feel himself smiling even as he remembered it all. Memories of Kuina were as sweet as they were excruciatingly painful. But they were only memories. The ghost of a wound in his heart. “One day, I just… Her dad told me she was gone. Fell down the stairs and gone. Just like that.”

  While Zoro talked, Sanji wordlessly reached out and put his hand on Zoro’s. Zoro looked at the pale fingers that rested on his knuckles. He wasn’t sad. He was done grieving for her. Still, Sanji’s hand and his silent presence were comforting.

  “It might sound kind of stupid,” Zoro said, never taking his eyes off of Sanji’s fingers, “but I promised myself I’d do what she wanted to do. I’ll become the greatest swordsman on earth.” His tone turned wistful. “I talked to her dad about it and… he let me have Wado . I thought he’d say no.” He glanced at Sanji. 

  “That’s not stupid. No way.” Sanji was looking at him earnestly. “Caring about someone… Loving someone isn’t stupid. Her father knew that. That’s why he trusted you enough to have her sword. And her dream.”

  Zoro smiled. “I know.” He sucked in a breath. “I’ve just never told anyone this before.”

  “Yeah. I understand.”

  The ensuing silence was comforting. Enough that Zoro felt it was alright to finally ask what had been weighing on his mind.

  “What happened with us? That night.” He looked into Sanji’s eyes. “Can you tell me?”

  There was a pause. Sanji visibly swallowed as he crushed the butt of his cig between the fingers of his free hand. He closed his eyes. “You kissed me.”

  Zoro froze. “I what?”

  “You kissed me,” Sanji repeated. “I was at the pool table. You came up to me… We talked. It was nice. People weren’t looking.” He flushed. “Stop staring at me like that, asshole. You’re creeping me out.”

  Zoro’s head was spinning. He’d kissed Sanji? Had he really been that drunk? He hated the seemingly indestructible block in his memory. He struggled for anything—bits and pieces. But he only recalled the exact same things. “I remember,” he said, “going upstairs.” He looked up at Sanji, feeling helpless. “Did we…?”

  Sanji’s jaw was clenched, his shoulders were shaking. His head was bent forward, the nape of his neck as red as his ears. “We did.”

  The breath left Zoro’s lungs. He’d been dreading this revelation. Why, exactly, wasn’t so difficult to see. He had always prided himself on his control, his self-mastery. Zanshin . He was always ready for anything, anytime. This had blindsided him. This unexpected infatuation. This overwhelming attraction that had apparently already consumed him once before and he had absolutely no memory of it. 

  “I’m sorry,” he said before he could think. 

  Sanji pulled his hand away as if he’d been burned. He glared at Zoro and Zoro felt his heart catch in his throat. “Fuck you,” Sanji spat. “I don’t want a fucking apology.” He stood up. “I was… I am fucking pissed off. But not because of what you did. I’ve never… No one has ever made me feel the way you do.” He jabbed a finger in Zoro’s face. “We fucked. That’s the truth. The problem is that you said… You said stupid shit.” Sanji trembled. “I hate you. I fucking hate you.”

  Zoro said nothing, only looked dejectedly at his own hands. He felt horrible for forgetting something so important. Whatever he’d said must have hurt Sanji beyond what he could imagine.

  “I know it’s not your fault you forgot. I get that. I’m the one who wants an explanation. I… I thought I was fucking straight . I let you anyway.” 

  “Then why do you keep talking to me?” Zoro demanded. “Why not”—he made air quotes with his hands—“forget and move on?”

  “Because I actually like you, asshole!” Sanji all but screamed. “I loved talking to you. I’ve never had more fun with anyone in my life. Everything else… I’m still thinking about whether I hated it or not. But I don’t… want… to let you go.” Sanji hissed the last few words between gritted teeth, his hands balled into fists at his sides.

  “I love talking to you too,” Zoro said candidly. “Talking and fighting. Literally.”

  Sanji seemed to relax a little. “Yeah.” He sighed. “Literally.” Sanji pulled out a pack and lit up another cigarette. Inhaling deep, he finally turned to look at Zoro again. He blew out the smoke in his lungs and, in Zoro’s imagination, it filled up the space between them. Like the haze in his memories, obscuring them. “I’m going home. Early shift tomorrow.”

  “Okay. Will I—” Will I see you again? Zoro bit back the question. He watched as Sanji’s features softened.

  “I’m usually free on Wednesdays and Fridays,” the blond said. He scratched the back of his head. “I mean, you have my number.”

  Zoro smiled. “Yeah, you have mine.”

  Sanji returned his smile and for a second, Zoro could pretend that nothing else had happened and everything was alright.

  “So,” Nami said as she held up a fork with a skewered piece of beef, “let me get this straight. You and Sanji are… a thing?”

  Zoro ran his hand over his face. “ No ,” he said, exasperated. “I think.”

  “You think ?” 

  The two of them were sitting in a secluded corner at the university dining hall. Luffy and Usopp were nowhere to be seen—and Zoro somewhat preferred it that way. He didn’t want them blurting anything unnecessary to Sanji whenever they saw him.

  “He said he hates me,” Zoro said. He paused. “But he also said he likes me. I dunno. It doesn’t really make sense.”

  “Okay, so what’s the issue? You like him?”

  “Yeah. Kind of.”

  “I’m going to stab this fork into your throat.”

  Zoro threw up his hands. “Yeah, okay! I do, alright? I like him. I want to talk to him more. Fight him again. That kind of thing.”

  “You two are so…” Nami clutched her head. “So fucking weird. If he says he likes you, then just… talk to him?”

  “He also said he hates me though,” Zoro reminded her.

  “He’s probably going through it right now. You slept with him and you don’t remember a single second of it.” Nami’s eyes softened. “Sanji doesn’t always mean what he says.”

  Zoro stilled. Every single time he’d spoken to Sanji, he could feel the blond’s sincerity. He was easy to flatter, easy to embarrass, and it showed on his face. Sanji was an open book. His dirty mouth and his endless smiles and the determined look in his eye… Zoro could see it all. When Sanji said he hated him… Had that felt sincere? As sincere as all the rest of Sanji?

  “Just talk to him,” Nami said, her voice strangely reassuring. “Everything should work out after that.”

  “You and Robin talk much?”

  “As a matter of fact,” she said, hands on her hips and puffing out her chest, “we do! Communication is key. Guys like you two are just stupid. You know what? I’ll be surprised if you even manage to have one proper conversation by the end of the week.”

  “Thanks for the vote of confidence,” Zoro grumbled. 

  Nami grinned. “You’re welcome. Consultation fee’s at 1,000 beri!”

  “I’m not paying you.”

  “Then I add it to your debt.”

  “You fucking witch!”

  Nami stuck her tongue out at him and he sighed. She was right though. If he wanted to straighten things out… he and Sanji would have to talk. At least to figure out where they stand. Besides, Sanji had basically told him he could call anytime. 

  “ I mean, you have my number .”

  Wasn’t that enough of an offer of friendship? It should mean that the cook was open to reconciliation… right? But what if it didn’t? If Sanji really meant it when he said he hated Zoro… What would happen then? Zoro wanted to bury his face in his hands. Thinking about this shit was making him feel like he was going insane and that’s if he wasn’t already insane.

  “Both you and Sanji are my friends,” Nami said, her eyes boring into Zoro’s, “so I’m all in favor of you guys getting along. Forcing it is different though. You could just as easily drop it.”

  He could. Zoro knew he could. It would be so much easier to let this go. If he could just close his eyes and forget the way talking to Sanji made him feel, the way Sanji’s food tasted, the way Sanji fought with every single fiber of his being, the way Sanji had held his hand when he talked about Kuina… If he could forget any of that, if it were even possible, he would. It had only been the slightest taste so far—a few moments of sensation. He hadn’t known Sanji long enough to say for sure, but even the shortest amount of time with him was something of a revelation.

  Sanji made Zoro feel alive .

  With every word, every movement, every glance, Sanji made everything… exciting. Exhilarating. Zoro wanted more and he couldn’t deny that. Not for anything.

  “I’ll talk to him,” he said. 

  Nami smiled and reached out to pat him on the shoulder. “Good luck. If it doesn’t work out, you can talk to me again.”

  Zoro scowled. “I’m not paying your damn consultation fees! Your friends aren’t your money-making machines.”

  “Ah, but that’s the secret, Zoro.” Nami’s smile turned wicked. “ Everything is my money-making machine.”

  Sanji was a mess. A real mess this time. Every other time before didn’t come close. Nothing could calm him down—not work, not food, not women, not anything . So here he was up in his room at The Baratie with food safety management and finance books stacked on his desk as he tried to make sense of his latest assignments. His hands hovered over his laptop keyboard, eyes narrowing at the blank document on the screen. After a few minutes he threw his hands up with a loud groan and leaned back so far in his seat that it tilted, almost throwing him to the ground if he hadn’t grabbed the edge of his desk.

  “Stupid… fucking marimo bastard… Asshole… Jerk…” Sanji muttered as he pulled his chair back toward the desk. This was all Zoro’s fault. Everything was Zoro’s fault. If the Earth crashed into the sun right now, it would be Zoro’s fault too. Guy was so fucking dense his head alone would be heavy enough to destroy the planet’s axis. Sanji gnashed his teeth. He snatched a book off the stack next to him and opened to a random chapter.

  ‘ The preventive measure for bacteria-causing intoxications and those with high minimum infective dose is control of growth. The growth of bacteria is slow at low temperature and therefore the most important preventive measure is chilling the fish soon after harvest and maintaining the low temperature during distribution and storage. Other measures against the growth of bacteria have different limiting conditions for growth. Prevention of illness from bacteria with low minimal infective dose is control of contamination, applying the requirements set by the prerequisite program. These bacteria are easily destroyed by cooking. ’

  Sanji smiled, almost maniacally. Oh, I wish I could destroy him by cooking , he thought. Zoro was like an infection on his mind, preying on him every waking moment, eating away at whatever sanity he had left. All over what? A one-night stand. A single night of humiliation and utter, utter shame. Sanji buried his face in his hands, desperate not to remember. 

  That night in his mind was like looking through a dusty window that someone had haphazardly wiped with a wet cloth in random places. Some parts were clear—painfully so. Others were obscured completely. But the overall image was enough. 

  “ I think I’m in love with you .”

  Sanji bit down on his tongue to keep from shrieking and waking up every single person in the building at 2:30am. He was going insane. He had to be. His heart was going a million miles a second every time he remembered that voice right up next to his ear. 

  He hated it.

  He hated it and yet he couldn’t forget.

  He scrambled to his feet and reached into his breast pocket with shaking fingers. After pushing open a window, he cupped his hand around his lighter as the flame ignited a fresh cigarette in between his lips. He pocketed the lighter and inhaled, deep. Nicotine burned afresh in his lungs and he let his shoulders sag a little as the tension melted away. He knew he was being stupid. He hadn’t been thinking right ever since that night. Texting Zoro the next day, his goal had been to seem threatening. Instead, he had felt like he was going to puke from sheer nervousness. 

  “Fucking said I would block him,” Sanji said under his breath. He folded his arms across his chest as he looked out the window at the sleeping skyline. “And then what did I do? Went to his fucking apartment and made him lunch ! Like a goddamn fucking moron !”

  Yes, clearly, clearly this was all Zoro’s fault.

  A surge of indignant bravery shot through Sanji and he stalked back to his desk where his phone lay. He picked it up and went through his contacts. Zoro was filed under the name Shitty Marimo Sword Guy . He went through the options quickly, scrolling right to the bottom. His thumb went over the ‘Block’ button. This was it. His first step toward rehabilitation. He pressed it.

  Or thought he would. Just as he had lowered his thumb to the screen, a message notification lit up the top of it. 

  “Oh my God,” Sanji breathed, the cigarette almost falling from his mouth. 

  Of course it was him . Of course he would message Sanji at 2:30 fucking am to keep the cook from blocking him and moving on with his life. The joy that sprouted from his chest and made his heart sing, was sickening. Against his better judgment, Sanji opened the message.

   i want to talk .

  Sanji dug a fist into his chest and squeezed his eyes shut. Calm down , he thought. Calm the fuck down! After a minute, he felt normal enough to reply.

   Do you have any idea what time it is?

   oh did i wake you up? Sorry 

   No it’s fine I was already awake. What do you want?

   I want to talk.

   You said that

  There was a pause. Sanji pulled out his chair and sat down. He’d never waited for a person to reply like this—counting away the seconds. He’d never cared this much. 

   I want to see you again .

  Sanji felt his heart stop. He put his phone face-down on the desk. Fucking shitty marimo swordsman. Sanji felt like he was legitimately in pain. Everything inside of him was squeezing together. Maybe at this rate, he’d become a black hole and destroy everything. Wouldn’t that be nice?

   I have Sunday off this week if you want to go again

   Sunday is good. Same time?

   Yeah

   Ok. See you sunday

  And that was that. Sanji put his phone down again, crushed the cigarette butt between his fingers and tossed it. He flopped into bed, his face buried into his pillow. Having a crush was tiring. Being in love was exhausting. It seemed like all it was, was a life lived on some kind of fucked up, glorified Hard mode. Everything about this was wrong. Literally everything. Sanji turned onto his side, staring hard at the wall. 

   Give it time , a voice whispered in his head. Time would heal everything, including all infections and delusions. Suffering was temporary. 

  Freezing slowed bacterial growth. It would keep rot and food poisoning at bay. 

  Sanji felt himself slipping away, hoping that when he woke up again his heart would have long frozen over.

  On Sunday evening, Sanji took one of The Baratie ’s delivery vans. The last time he’d gone with Zoro to his dojo, the dumbass had gotten them lost for a good twenty minutes and had wandered away from Sanji for another five. This time, Sanji would be driving to keep the idiot from vanishing into thin air. Just thinking about it made him grin around his cig. A guy like Zoro, an accomplished swordsman who used not one or two swords but three simultaneously, a guy who kept his apartment relatively clean and orderly, got lost more easily than a toddler. It was hilarious and Sanji knew he would give Zoro hell for it. 

  He found Zoro waiting outside his campus with his arms crossed, looking stoic. If he didn’t know any better, he would’ve thought the guy was some kind of street performer pretending to be a statue for donations. But he did know. Zoro had been waiting like this the last time too. Abruptly, Sanji remembered that evening. He’d told Zoro he hated him. Which wasn’t true… exactly. With a grimace, Sanji let the van roll up to the curb and reached over to open the door. 

  “Hey, marimo ,” he said, trying to contort his grimace into a smile. “I’m here.”

  Zoro looked up and grinned. It made Sanji’s heart squeeze. “You’re early this time.” He climbed in and the van peeled away, back onto the road. “What’s with the face? You okay?”

  Sanji realized his half-grimace, half-smile probably didn’t look very normal. He schooled his features into a neutral expression. “Just remembered something from work. I’m fine.”

  “I could drive.”

  “I am not letting you touch this van. You’d drive it into a swamp knowing how easy you get lost.”

  “Shut up .”

  Sanji chuckled. “You just get off class today?”

  Zoro rubbed the back of his neck. “Yeah.”

  “I heard from Nami that you take Phys Ed? Gonna be a teacher?

  “Maybe. Not sure exactly what I want to do yet.”

  Sanji hummed, looking thoughtful before smirking. “Hard to imagine you as a teacher.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” Zoro bristled.

  “I mean you don’t look like you do well with kids.” Sanji laughed. “You’d freak them out just looking at them.”

  Zoro was quiet for a while, long enough to make Sanji worry he’d said something bad. When the swordsman spoke again, his voice was… different. Softer.

  “I like kids,” he said, looking down at his lap. “They learn fast. They’re honest. They challenge you. Most adults aren’t like that.”

  Sanji didn’t say anything. How could he? Zoro had just been acting like… a totally different person. “I’m sorry,” he said quietly. “I… honestly think you’d be a great teacher.”

  “You think so?” Zoro was eyeing him expectantly.

  “Yeah. Would still be kind of weird though. I’m trying really hard to imagine you in a suit for parent-teacher stuff. You don’t strike me as the type who would willingly wear suits.”

  Zoro blinked, then let out a laugh. “I guess it would be pretty weird?”

 “See? You get it.”

  Their conversations seemed to have no end. Sanji hated to admit it, even to himself, but Zoro was really fun to talk to—more than anyone else. His voice, low with the slightest drawl, filled Sanji with a kind of warmth that was, frankly, really disgusting. Slow as he was on most things, Zoro surprised Sanji with how insightful he could be. He was, of course, quick to snap back insults, giving as much as he was receiving. Talking to him kept Sanji on his toes (in a good way) and… Sanji was laughing. A lot. He’d never smiled this much around anyone else. Not even with Nami or Robin. Part of it was probably because of how nervous and jumpy he was on the inside. It was too early to say he was actually happy .

  At the dojo, they warmed up together. The sky was clear and the sun was sinking down toward the skyline. The wind picked up as they both stepped outside and they stood for a moment, savoring it.

  “It’s been way too fucking hot all week,” Sanji said, a contented smile plastered on his face that wasn’t just because of the cool air. “This is nice.”

  Zoro nodded before he went ahead and got in position. Sanji met his gaze and grinned. 

  “Ready to get your ass beat again, you damn cook?”

  “I think you should be prepared to eat shit, you fucking marimo .”

  “Ha! Try me.”

  “Oh I will.”

  As soon as it started, Sanji sprinted forward. In the past week and a half since their first and last spar, he’d gone over the details in his head over and over. He’d practiced for hours on his free days at the gym, training and getting stronger. Last time he had been unprepared. He wouldn’t go down easily tonight.

  Apparently Zoro realized that not one minute into the fight because he started moving in ways that he hadn’t before. He was becoming more cautious, more wary, sidestepping when he would usually be ruthlessly slashing forward. He was watching Sanji carefully and Sanji knew it was only a matter of time before he figured something out. Knowing he had to hurry, Sanji rushed in and brought his leg hurtling down on Zoro’s head in what would, for anyone else, be a fatal axe kick. Zoro blocked it, two swords crossed overhead. 

  The corners of Sanji’s lips crept up the sides of his face. Bingo . He used Zoro’s swords as leverage, catapulting himself forward. He twisted in midair and aimed a devastating kick at the small of Zoro’s back. The swordsman staggered forward and Sanji took the opportunity to sweep his legs out from beneath him.

  Then Zoro was falling.

  And Sanji was on him, one foot pressed into the back of Zoro’s throat and the other at the base of his spine. He grinned wider. “Yield,” he said, unable to keep the smugness from his voice. When Zoro didn’t answer, Sanji dug his heel in. “You know I could snap your neck like a twig if I wanted to, marimo .”

  Silence again for the space of a heartbeat and then Zoro said, finally, “I yield.”

  Sanji whooped and hopped off of him, punching the air in gleeful triumph. “I told you you would eat shit today!” 

  “Yeah, yeah.” Zoro winced as he slowly got onto his feet. “You kick like a horse.”

  “Is that supposed to be a compliment? Or an insult.”

  Zoro laughed. “Both.”

  Later, as they were tending to their cuts and bruises, Zoro tapped Sanji on the shoulder.

  “Hm? What?”

  “Help me put this on.” Zoro held up an elastic bandage.

  Sanji wrinkled his nose at the idea of touching Zoro anywhere on his body. “Do it yourself.”

  “I would if you didn’t kick the shit out of me in a place I can’t reach.” Zoro sat on the tatami floor, turned around and pulled off his shirt. His back, tanned and muscular, was now in full view and nothing, nothing could possibly be worse. Every alarm bell in Sanji’s head was going off. This was bad. Very, very bad. Zoro threw a questioning glance over his shoulder. “Are you going to help or not?”

  Sanji sighed. He sat down behind Zoro, who handed him the roll of bandage. “Didn’t even wait for me to say if I would,” he grumbled as he unraveled the roll. He reached around Zoro’s midsection and his fingers brushed against hard muscle. Zoro stiffened under his touch.

  “Someone’s overreacting,” Sanji teased, despite his own cheeks flushing red. 

  “Shut up,” Zoro growled. 

  “Hold it still,” Sanji instructed and Zoro obeyed, putting a hand on his stomach where the bandage was. He paused, his fingers tracing the reddened patch of skin. “This looks pretty bad. Sorry.”

  “Yeah. It’s… honestly humiliating. Good swordsmen never have their backs exposed like that.” He shook his head. “I still have a lot to learn.” 

  Sanji was quiet as he wrapped the remaining bandage around Zoro’s torso and secured it. The act was intimate. Too intimate. Zoro had only just admitted to never letting anyone get in a shot from behind, and yet here he was offering his back to Sanji. His shoulders and his voice were relaxed, radiating trust that Sanji felt he hadn’t properly earned. He had reached out again and let his fingers splay out against Zoro’s spine. He waited.

  Silence. Zoro didn’t speak. He didn’t move. Sanji let his hand wander upward, palming Zoro’s shoulder blades, feeling the dampness left behind by sweat and lazy toweling, and reveling in the thick, corded muscle. In Sanji’s memories, he saw only Zoro’s front, never his back. He remembered the scar—a long terrifying gash that stretched from his collarbone across his chest and down his stomach. He remembered touching it. He remembered how doing that had made Zoro’s breath hitch. 

  “Your hands are rough.”

  Sanji closed his eyes, unable to will away the phantoms in his mind. Unable to pull his hand away. “Comes with the job,” he said softly. His skin was burning where he touched Zoro. He was burning, consumed by flames inside out. He bit the inside of his lip. He couldn’t do this. He let his hand fall to his side. “I don’t see any other injuries here so… I think that should do it.”

  They didn’t speak again until Zoro had his shirt back on. 

  “Where did you get it?” Sanji asked finally. “The scar.”

  Zoro’s hand went up to his chest, where his shirt hid the old injury from view. His expression was hard to read. It shifted everywhere from frustration to anger to bitterness to ambition. The scowl on his face throughout was nonetheless unnerving. “I challenged someone to a duel. I lost.” He was looking at some distant point Sanji couldn’t see. “His name’s Mihawk. International kendo champion and 8th dan iaido master. I… was being cocky. Called him out in front of his students and said I could beat him one-on-one easy. And not just with shinai . A real duel. Real blades.” He pressed a closed fist to his forehead, knuckles against his skin as he screwed his eyes shut. He looked visibly shaken. Sanji resisted the urge to touch him again. “I was an idiot. Obviously.” 

  When he finally lowered his fist and opened his eyes, Sanji felt a shiver run up his spine. Zoro set his jaw and straightened.

  “I won’t lose again.”

  Something about that look in Zoro’s eyes made Sanji feel like he was swooning. He wasn’t actually swooning. He couldn’t be. That was stupid. No, what was really stupid was that he’d fallen in love with Zoro before he even knew anything about him. All he remembered from that night were feelings. Words. Fingers. Mouths. Tongues.

  “I wanted to talk to you,” Zoro said, jolting Sanji out of his memories.

  Sanji coughed. “Yeah. You mentioned that.”

 “Before that though, are you, uh, fine with discussing it somewhere else?” Zoro somehow looked a little concerned. “This isn’t exactly neutral ground. I—”

 Feeling a little annoyed, Sanji lit up a cigarette and leaned back against one hand. “Whatever it is, I doubt it’ll change depending on where we are.”

  “I’m serious.” And now Zoro’s eyes were on him. “Let’s take this somewhere else.”

  “Somewhere else” turned out to be a sort of observation deck jutting out of a low mountain face overlooking Sabaody City. Anyone willing enough to climb the seemingly endless, winding staircase carved into the mountain could supposedly see a picture perfect view of the bay, but dark as it already was, the city lights and their watery reflections were all Sanji could see. Beyond the shore, a few more lights drifted like lonely stars—ships setting sail or yet to drop anchor. 

  They’d picked it at random after driving around aimlessly, bickering about what was considered “neutral ground.”

  Sanji clicked his tongue and lit up a new cig. He was more than annoyed now—he was tired, antsy, and impatient. He wanted this over with. The anticipation was going to kill him. Behind him, Zoro was on the phone with someone, the low rumble of his voice barely audible. 

  Resting his elbows against the steel railing that marked the edge of the observation deck, Sanji blew out a cloud of smoke and watched it disappear into the night. He wondered what Zoro wanted to talk about so badly. No doubt it had to be about their last “talk.” Sanji puffed on his cig, scowling. His outburst had been nothing short of embarrassing. He’d never wanted to just scream at Zoro, but he had. So much for being the cool, calm, and collected ladies’ man he claimed to be. The topic of that “talk” had been totally avoided in all their conversations since it even happened so it probably made sense that Zoro had been stewing over it for a while now and was finally ready to discuss it.

  They’d only briefly reconnected a couple of times since the party—no one could really call what they had a friendship even. It was barely an acquaintanceship. It shouldn’t even have existed, had Sanji actually followed through on his empty threats to block Zoro and totally forget about everything that had happened.

  Would Zoro be ending it—what little they had—tonight? Was he tired of Sanji? Was he unimpressed? Was he annoyed? Frustrated? Angry? With how little the swordsman’s expression changed most of the time, it was impossible to tell. 

  “ I love talking to you too. ”

  He’d said that with a completely straight face. Thinking about it pissed Sanji off. Zoro and the l-word were incompatible in his mind, not without a nuclear reaction going off. 

  Sanji heard Zoro before he saw him. The swordsman heaved a sigh before leaning his back against the railing. “Sorry,” he said. “Usopp wants me to dogsit Merry next week.”

  “Merry?” Sanji kept his eyes on the bay. “I didn’t know Usopp and Kaya had a dog.”

  “Yeah, they just got him last month. I’ve watched him once already and we got along pretty well.”

  “Animals, kids…” Sanji smiled. “I’m guessing you like small things?” He was mostly joking but when Zoro went a little red in the ears, Sanji turned to him, eyes widening. “No, really?”

  Zoro jut his chin out. “And so what if I do?” 

  “Well… nothing, really.” Sanji put out his cigarette. “Just thought it was uncharacteristically cute of you, I guess.”

  Running a hand through his hair, Zoro coughed. “ Anyway ,” he said, forcefully wresting the conversation away from Sanji’s control, “I wanted to talk to you.”

  Sanji waited.

  “I don’t really know how to say this without sounding stupid.” Zoro took a deep, calming breath. “We haven’t known each other that long. And I don’t exactly remember much about how we even met. I thought about it—this, I mean.” He gestured from himself to Sanji. “I don’t know if we’re even friends or not, so…”

   Ah, here it comes , Sanji thought, closing his eyes.

  Zoro paused for a minute, long enough that Sanji cracked one eye open to look at him. The swordsman sucked in a breath. “I want to try this for real.”

  Sanji stared at him. “What.”

  Was Zoro… blushing? It wasn’t a little flush like earlier, not a brief second of embarrassment. In the fluorescent lamplight, Zoro was redder than Sanji had ever seen him. Paired with his unusual green hair, he looked just like a tomato. 

  “What do you mean, ‘this’?” Sanji demanded, trying hard not to laugh. This was serious, he knew, but his nerves were getting the better of him and Zoro looked, well, stupid. How could he not laugh?

  “You’re pissing me off right now,” Zoro growled, his face still red—possibly getting redder. “You know what I mean!”

  “No,” Sanji said truthfully. He was still suppressing his laughter. “I don’t.”

  “You’re fucking joking.”

  “I’m not!”

  “You’re laughing!”

  “What the fuck do you want from me?” Sanji wasn’t laughing anymore. He could feel the despair closing in on his heart. He just wanted Zoro to say it. Whatever he wanted to say. “Just spit it out, you son of a—”

  “I want to ask you out on a date, you fucking idiot!” Zoro spat. “The hell is wrong with you?”

  “A… date?” Sanji stared blankly. 

  “You heard me.” Zoro was calm again. His usual stoic self. “I thought about it. I really enjoy talking to you. And fighting you.” Blush began creeping across his cheeks again. “I thought it made sense.”

  Sanji made a face. “You thought it made sense,” he repeated. “To ask me out. Because? You like talking to me?”

  “And fighting you.”

  “ Shut up! ” Sanji’s blood was boiling. He pulled a leg back and let it whip forward, aiming for Zoro’s head. Zoro, taken by surprise, just barely blocked the kick with the back of his arm, but Sanji kept at it, pushing Zoro back with a flurry of kicks. “You think you’re the one who’s pissed off? First you conveniently forget we fucked and now you make fun of me? Asking me out? I mean it when I say I’m going to kill you, asshole! ”

  “Seriously, what”—Zoro dodged another kick—“the hell”—another—“is wrong”—another—“with you?!” He finally caught one of Sanji’s ankles in between his hands. “Just say ‘no’ like a normal person!”

  “I’m not… saying ‘no,’” Sanji said, a little breathless. 

  Zoro’s eyes widened. “Then are you saying—”

  “Yes,” Sanji hissed. “Of course I’m saying yes, you fucking idiot marimo .” He lowered his leg and grabbed Zoro by the collar of his shirt and pulled him forward. “This is the part where you kiss me, bastard.”

  “I—what—?”

  “Shut the fuck up.”

  Sanji didn’t wait for him to figure it out. He surged forward, covering Zoro’s mouth with his. As pathetic as it was, he’d been wanting this for longer than he would ever admit aloud. Touching Zoro again was as much a dip in an oasis as it was lighting himself on fire. Sanji’s mind was nowhere and everywhere all at once. He was a mess, undone once again by a certain swordsman. He could feel Zoro’s hands snake around his waist, fingers slipping underneath his shirt, touching him. His skin was burning again where Zoro touched him. He sighed into the kiss, realizing that his own hands were in Zoro’s hair.

  When they broke apart at last, gasping for air, Sanji grinned. “Wednesday night. I’ll come over while you dogsit. I’ll bring something nice.”

  Zoro returned his grin. “Looking forward to it.”

  Merry was probably the sweetest puppy Zoro had ever known. A pure white shih tzu with light brown ears, he trotted around Usopp and Kaya’s apartment like he owned the place. His tail was a fluffy flag of fur that waved with increasing intensity the closer Zoro got to him with a bowl of food.

  “Here you go, Merry,” he said, gently setting the food down where Usopp told him to. He petted the pup’s head and smiled. Merry ignored him, going straight for the food bowl. Zoro chuckled. Dogs were cute. Small ones especially.

  The doorbell rang. It was probably Sanji.

  Sanji. His partner.

  Right?

  They were dating now, so it only made sense. Sanji had kissed him. That already made them more than just friends. Was it different with a guy? Unfortunately, Zoro didn’t have enough experience in that area to be able to tell. He was jumping into this blind and he had every intention to keep going.

  He opened the door to see Sanji hold up two grocery bags with a triumphant grin on his face. “You’re in for a treat tonight,” he said cheerily.

   I already am , Zoro thought with a suppressed smile. He reached out to take the bags from Sanji who stepped inside with his usual effortless elegance. With legs like Sanji’s, Zoro figured anyone could look like a ballerina. The image of Sanji in a tutu pirouetting onstage made Zoro stifle a snort.

  “What’re you laughing about, marimo ?” Sanji was inspecting the kitchen and had a knife in either hand.

  “Nothing,” Zoro said quickly, sensing his life was in danger. He put the grocery bags on the small kitchen island. “This is a lot of stuff for just us.”

  The blond was busying himself checking out every knife and utensil. “I’m making a bit of extra for Usopp and Kaya. Didn’t sit right with me just crashing their place without leaving them something as thanks.”

  “That’s uncharacteristically nice of you,” Zoro said, making a not-so subtle jab at Sanji’s compliment last week. Sanji elbowed him, his ears turning pink.

  “Shut up. Now give me some space. I need to concentrate.”

  Zoro watched Sanji work from the living room while he kept Merry company. For the most part, he could only see the cook’s back—the island blocked the rest of him from the hips down, which of course, frustrated Zoro to no end. Only half an hour later, the smells drifting over from the kitchen were making his mouth water. He couldn’t resist it. He made sure Merry was preoccupied with one of his chew toys before heading into the kitchen. Stepping up to Sanji’s back, he looked over the cook’s shoulder just as he covered the pot simmering over the stove. Off to the side and already plated was what looked like—

  “Chicken stir fry,” Sanji said, following his gaze. “And beef curry rice. Hot and sour bean sprouts.” He pointed at the pot. “Seafood noodle soup.”

  Zoro grinned. “You’re incredible.”

  Sanji spluttered, turning redder and redder. He reminded Zoro of Chopper sometimes. “Just sit down ! I told you not to come in here! I can’t concentrate!”

  “Do I make it hard for you?” Zoro leaned in slowly, one hand on the counter next to Sanji’s waist. He smirked. It was insanely easy to reduce Sanji into a blubbering, blushing mess. Almost too easy.

  Sanji shoved Zoro away and maneuvered him against the counter in one rough motion. Their positions now switched, Sanji was the one smirking this time. “You’re not the only one who can play games.” The look in his eye was devious—menacing, even. “Now sit the fuck down and let me serve you dinner.”

  Zoro ached to kiss him, but the last thing he wanted was to ruin the good mood they were somehow keeping up. He sat down just as Sanji lit up a cigarette and held it between his teeth as he blew out a cloud of smoke. 

  “You sure Usopp and Kaya are okay with that?”

  Sanji waved dismissively. “Asked him this morning. ‘S fine if it’s just a couple cigs and I keep a window open.” 

  The stormy gray-blue of his eyes caught and held in Zoro’s memory and he thought, not unwillingly, about the way they softened around the edges whenever Sanji talked about food and cooking, the way they sparked like steel when he fought… Sanji’s eyes were a maelstrom of emotion—so much that it was hard to look at them sometimes. Zoro felt a sudden rush of desire to know even more about the cook. To know what lay behind the storm of his eyes and understand his thoughts. His desires. His fears. His dreams.

  He had never wanted to know anyone as intimately as this man he’d only met a few weeks ago. It was silly. It was stupid. He felt like a kid again, clumsily trying to fit the right shapes into the right holes in a bucket. Zoro didn’t do feelings. Emotions were transient. They interfered with his peace of mind, dulling his body and his blades. Having friends, being happy… that was enough. He’d allowed himself that much. But he’d decided to pursue Sanji anyway. 

  It hadn’t only been instinctual. He’d thought about it. There wasn’t anything wrong with trying. 

  And if there was anyone he wanted to try falling in love with, it would probably be Sanji.

  “Have you thought about what they’d say?”

  “Mm? They?”

  The sudden question had Zoro crack open an eye to look at Sanji. He’d been laying with his head in Sanji’s lap—ostensibly napping in Heaven, or as close as he could physically get to Heaven. They’d somehow settled on this arrangement after arguing over who was putting enough effort into sitting closer to the other. Zoro had put an end to it by forcibly placing his head on top of Sanji’s thighs and that was that. He had to admit they weren’t as soft and pliable as he’d hoped (Sanji had lightly smacked him in the face for saying that), but they were Sanji’s and that made all the difference.

  The owner of these rock-hard thighs wasn’t looking at him. His eyes were trained on the TV, where some Hulu drama was playing. 

  “You know. Luffy and Ace and Nami and everyone else. Them.”

  “Ah.” Zoro closed his eyes. “No. I haven’t thought about it.” More like he’d forgotten. So much of his thoughts lately had been consumed by Sanji that he hadn’t really considered anything—or anyone—else.

  Sanji hummed. He didn’t say anything, but he was obviously thinking something. 

  “You want to tell them?” 

  The blond sighed, his head dropping, elbows on his knees. “Yes… No. Maybe?” He put his face in his hands and moaned. “I can’t believe I’m gay .”

  Zoro wrinkled his nose. “ That’s what you’re worried about?”

  Sanji stared blankly at him. “Is there anything else to worry about?”

  “How about explaining how we met, for one.”

  “Oh. Right. That.” Sanji grimaced before pulling out another cigarette and lighting up. He rested his head against the back of the couch. “You really don’t remember anything, huh?”

  “No.” 

  “Nothing new pop into your head?”

  Zoro shook his head. Sanji smiled but kept his eyes on the ceiling.

  “Probably for the best.” He looked at Zoro with a wicked grin. “You were saying the most embarrassing shit. You should be glad you don’t remember any of it.”

  “Shut up,” Zoro ground out.

  It was still weird. As far as he was aware, he could drink anyone—even Nami—under the table. He’d never blacked out like that before. Memory loss after a night out was a concept alien to him. He didn’t want to think he was losing his touch. That was humiliating somehow. 

  “Ahh, this shit’s boring as fuck,” Sanji groaned, reaching for the remote. “I’m telling Franky this is overrated.”

  “He won’t like that.”

  “Not my problem he has bad taste.”

  They shared a laugh and as Sanji leaned over him to grab the remote from the table, Zoro found himself reaching up. Once his fingers touched the skin of Sanji’s neck, the blond froze. Zoro waited, but when Sanji didn’t stop him, he traced the man’s jawline to his chin, rubbing his thumb over the little goatee. 

  “What do you think you’re doing,” Sanji whispered harshly. He looked down at Zoro, glowering.

  “I think,” Zoro said, “I’m trying to get you to kiss me.”

  “We’re in Usopp and Kaya’s apartment, you dumbass.”

  “They’re not here. They don’t have to know.”

  “Are you serious?”

  “Never been more serious in my life.”

  They were a mere inch or two apart now. Despite all his complaints, Sanji’s body had been acting the opposite and this wasn’t lost on Zoro, whose hands were on the nape of Sanji’s neck and the tip of his chin. Zoro thumbed Sanji’s bottom lip and he felt the cook’s breath against his skin. Sanji pulled the cigarette from his lips, crushed it against the sole of his shoe, and dropped it into his breast pocket.

  “You’re so fucking hopeless,” Sanji muttered just as Zoro pulled him down into a kiss. He wanted to take it slower this time than the last—to understand the taste, the feel of Sanji. Cigarettes were the obvious flavor, rising above everything else. Underneath the thickness of smoke lay the taste of Sanji’s food, their dinner from earlier. Even lower was the faintest trace of coffee. Sanji and coffee. That was kind of sexy. Zoro shifted, his hands in Sanji’s hair. He couldn’t get enough. He wanted to reach everything, taste everything. His tongue moved against Sanji’s in slow, languid strokes. He felt Sanji’s hand on his cheek, fingers gently spreading across his skin. Their breaths intertwined, hot and ragged. 

  “Zoro…” Sanji murmured into the kiss. “We have to stop.”

  A muscle twitched in Zoro’s jaw. No. He didn’t want to stop here. His hand went for the buttons on Sanji’s shirt. He couldn’t reach the cook’s pants from this angle so he had to settle for a little less.

  “Zoro.” Sanji was breathless. His ordinarily pale face was flushed with want. Irresistible. “ Zoro . Stop. ”

  “Hmpgfh?!” 

  Sanji’s lips had vanished and in their place was a hand that had smacked right into Zoro’s face and held it in a trembling vice grip. “I said stop ! For Christ’s sake! Do you ever listen to what anyone says?”

  “Gmfnhadhff.”

  “What?”

  Zoro shoved Sanji away from him and got up. “I said, get your hand off.” He glared at Sanji, more than extremely annoyed. “The hell’s your problem?”

  “ You are.” With a finger jabbed in Zoro’s chest, Sanji returned his glare with fervor. “You don’t have a single shred of self-control in your body.”

  Zoro narrowed his eyes. “Yeah? Well you’re so freakishly obsessed with your ‘image’ when nobody gives a damn.”

  “I care enough about my image that people actually like me,” Sanji sneered. “Can’t say the same about you.”

  “I only hang around people who actually matter to me. I don’t act stupid and put on that weirdass fake smile when, in reality, you don’t care about anyone.”

  Time seemed to stop completely as a heavy silence blanketed the room, broken up only by the drama playing softly on the TV. The longer Sanji said nothing, the more Zoro felt a haze of regret settle over him slowly but heavily. When the blond stood up, Zoro watched him in bewilderment. 

  “Where are you going?”

  Sanji said nothing. He was already halfway out the lounge when Zoro got up and caught him by the arm.

  “Where are you going?” Zoro repeated. 

  “Don’t touch me.” Sanji’s glare was different now than it’d ever been. It made Zoro flinch backward instinctively, releasing Sanji’s arm. There wasn’t just anger in Sanji’s eyes. 

  “Sanji, I—”

  “ Don’t . Don’t make this worse, Zoro.” He turned away and headed for the door. Before Zoro could wrap his head around what was happening, Sanji was gone, the door slamming shut behind him. 

  On his way back to where he’d parked the van, Sanji tried extremely, extremely hard not to cry. He pulled out his phone and texted Usopp, telling him that he’d left his and Kaya’s share wrapped up in the fridge. Once he closed the thread, he saw Zoro’s contact right underneath it. He’d been the last one he texted that night after all. 

  Just seeing it made him angry. Just thinking about it… 

  “ You don’t care about anyone .”

  Sanji froze midstep and buried his fist in his chest. Zoro’s words coiled around him like barbed wire, digging into his flesh and drawing blood. He was wrong and Sanji knew it but it hurt anyway. Memories he’d trashed so many years ago were rising to the surface, filtering into his brain through thick white noise…

  Of course. Of course Zoro would think that. 

  Being cold, uncaring, heartless… Maybe it simply ran in his blood and lined his every word and movement so finely that he himself didn’t even notice. And yet Sanji Vinsmoke loved feeling. He loved joy, grief, fury, pain, and love. He put his all into every emotion, sticking his thumb into it and carving out every last bit he could get his teeth on. Like every emotion was the last he would ever feel. 

  Was it enough to simply want to love? 

  Sanji felt his knees grow weak. He grabbed onto a nearby lamppost to steady himself. He swallowed his tears and pulled his phone out again.

  Zoro was dumbfounded.

  After everything that had happened the last few weeks, he couldn’t believe what was happening. After Sanji had left, he’d sent Zoro a text.

  im sorry. i made a mistake. lets stop this. goodbye, zoro. thank you.

  And that had been the last he’d heard from the cook in weeks. Even after figuring out his schedule and after staking out North University and The Baratie , Zoro hadn’t seen hide nor hair of Sanji. It was possible he was never getting there on time because it always took him a while to figure out how to get there, but this was ridiculous. He knew he’d said something to piss Sanji off, but it’s not as if the idiot had explained anything to him. Leaving cryptic messages seemed to be habit for Sanji. Why couldn’t he just say things? Zoro didn’t get it.

  And that made him angry.

  The harsh sound of a whistle signalled the end of the match. Zoro could feel his chest heaving against his armor as he knelt, stood up, bowed, and backed away from the court. He ripped off his headgear as he approached the corner of the auditorium where he’d left his things. In his mind’s eye he could see Sanji, his hurt expression, and how he’d walked away without looking back.

  “Zoro.”

  Why was he so hung up on Sanji anyway? Dating had ultimately been a spur-of-the-moment decision. So what if he’d thought about it for a couple of days? He barely knew the guy. Surely there was something wrong with him to even consider going out with someone he didn’t even remember sleeping with. 

  “Zoro. Hello? Earth to Zoro.”

  It was true he’d found Sanji attractive almost instantly. It was also true that he had fun talking to the cook. Did that matter? Did he care? Well… he did, but he didn’t want to. Yes. That was the gist of it. He cared about Sanji against his own will. For whatever reason, he felt compelled to worry about him. Right now, he wanted to talk to Sanji. But somehow it was impossible.

  “Zoro, you’re going to crush your helmet the more you hold it like that.”

  Zoro blinked and looked up to see Ace frowning at him. He looked back down at his helmet to see that he’d somewhat deformed it with his hands. The metal bars were significantly bent.

  “Oh,” Ace said with a light laugh. “Too late, I guess?”

  “What do you want?” Zoro sighed as he made a mental note to order new headgear. 

  “I heard you dumped Sanji.”

  “ What ?” When Zoro turned on him, nostrils flaring, Ace threw his hands up.

  “Hey, man, I had no idea you guys were a thing until just last night.”

  “Where is he?”

  “With us. My and Luffy’s place. He—woah there, slow down.” Ace caught Zoro by the shoulders as he shouldered his bag and attempted to push past him. “Where do you think you’re going?”

  “To talk to him.” 

  “I don’t know what happened with you two, but you have to calm down.” Ace’s tone was serious now, his fingers digging into Zoro’s shoulders. “The way I see you right now, I don’t think talking would do either of you any good.”

  “Then what am I supposed to do?” Zoro demanded. “ He ’s the one who hasn’t said shit. He ’s the one avoiding me.”

  “Zoro, you’re a good guy, but you’re like me. We say things without thinking sometimes.” Ace’s features softened for a second. “You can’t love someone without trying to understand how they feel.”

  Zoro closed his eyes and sighed out his nose. “You’re being real creepy right now, Ace.”

  “ I’m being creepy?” Ace shot him a withering look. “You’ve been emotionally constipated ever since you fought Mihawk. I would say you ’re the one acting creepy right now.”

  Zoro ran a hand up over his face and through his hair. “Fine. I’m calm. I’m thinking.”

  Ace raised an eyebrow. “Are you?”

  “Shut up.” He glared at some vague point in the distance. “Okay. I’m done thinking.”

  “Uh… huh. And what are you going to do now?”

  “I’m talking to him.”

  Ace smacked his palm against his face. “You’re hopeless. You know that?”

  Zoro smirked. “Yeah. He’s said that before too.”

  Zoro had just gotten off the phone with Chopper when Ace drove up to his place and unlocked the doors. He was still staring at his phone with incredulity.

  “Luffy and I will be over at Nami’s and stay out of your hair. Will you be okay?”

  He looked up at Ace and smiled weakly. “Probably.”

  Ace sighed. “Please don’t break anything. Garp is going to kill us. Me, especially.”

  “I’ll try not to.”

  “Good luck.”

  Zoro stepped out of the car and walked up to the front door. It was unlocked. Ace had told him that Sanji was either somewhere upstairs or in the kitchen. He crossed the foyer and lounge with uncertainty. He remembered with utmost clarity the last time he’d been here… well, most of it. He remembered everything but meeting Sanji and now that he knew why , it was going to be really awkward—and embarrassing—to explain. If he even got to that part.

  Sanji was nowhere to be seen downstairs and so Zoro begrudgingly made the decision to go upstairs, uprooting some of his vague, smeared-with-black memories. He found the cook in the third room he poked his head into and immediately he pulled back, took a minute to calm himself, and then stepped into the room. 

  “Sanji,” he said in as neutral a tone as he could manage. “I’m here to talk.”

  The man in question was lying in bed with his back to the door, but judging from how his shoulders had tensed once Zoro opened his mouth, he was most likely awake. 

  “You should know that’s the last thing I want to do,” Sanji said quietly without turning. “Leave.”

  “You don’t sound surprised I’m here at all.”

  There was a beat of silence. “I’ve figured out by now that you don’t like listening.”

  Zoro bit back a retort. He wasn’t here to pick another fight, he reminded himself. He was here to resolve the fight they were having in the first place. And to do that, he had to admit some things.

  “Sometimes,” he said, “it’s not worth listening.”

  “Yeah, I can see that .”

  “Let me finish, Sanji.”

  “Go on then.”

  “I don’t talk to people I’m not interested in,” Zoro continued. He was saying words he’d prepared beforehand—thoughts that he had turned over and over in his head before he had arrived at the decision to come here. “I don’t listen to every single person who tells me what their life story is.”

  “So your point is?”

  “My point is that I want to listen to you.” Now came the hard part. He clenched and unclenched his fists. “I’m sorry, Sanji, for what I said. I hurt you, but I don’t know how or why. I want to know.”

  There was silence again. Sanji got up slowly and turned to Zoro. His eyes were narrowed. “Are you being serious right now?”

  “I am.”

  Sanji’s eyes left him. The air seemed to grow thick and heavy—humidity before a hurricane. Zoro thought back to that one morning when he’d woken up with just his pants on, covered in sheets. He’d forced himself out of bed and found his shirt by the door. Ace had been passed out by the foyer, Luffy on the kitchen floor, surrounded by emptied boxes and bags of food. It hadn’t occurred to Zoro at all that he’d spent the night with someone. Even now it was difficult to come to terms with the fact that he’d forgotten all about it.

  “I used to have a tough situation at home,” Sanji said abruptly, jolting Zoro back into the present. “So… I’ve always had trouble with relationships. Friends, girlfriends, all that. You know what kind of person I am. I take things seriously.”

  “You do.”

  Sanji nodded. “Sometimes too seriously. I care too much. Sometimes I don’t know how to control myself. Then I pull back way too hard. My brain doesn’t know what the fuck a ‘happy medium’ is. So I know I can come off… inconsistent. Say one thing, do another.” Sanji closed his eyes. “The truth is that I care what you think of me.”

  Not even Zoro could doubt that. These past few weeks had Sanji avoiding him because of something he had said—and now he knew exactly what it had been. He willed himself to move and found himself sitting on the edge of the bed next to Sanji. It was the closest they’d been in weeks. 

  “I’m sorry,” he said again, more earnestly this time. “I was wrong.”

  Sanji looked at him. “I can forgive you, Zoro, but I don’t think this—us—is the answer to all this.”

  “I’d respect that if that’s what you really wanted.” Zoro reached out and grabbed Sanji’s hand. “I’m just going off a hunch. You can tell me if I’m wrong. To you, the most important things we had, I forgot about. But to me, that’s shit yet to happen.”

  “Zoro—”

  “Nothing’s been the same for me anymore. Not since I met you. I don’t really get it. You know me the way I know you—probably better. You know what I’m thinking.”

  Sanji’s jaw clenched and he ducked his head, and Zoro knew he was crying. He couldn’t help himself any longer. He pulled Sanji into his arms and buried his face in Sanji’s hair. 

  “There’s still a lot of shit I need to figure out,” he said softly. For the briefest second, he imagined Sanji rejecting him anyway. He tightened his hold. “Let me figure it out with you.”

  “You’re such a fucking stupid idiot,” Sanji said, his voice thick with tears. 

  “Takes one to know one.”

  Sanji punched him squarely in the chest. It hardly hurt. “I hate you.”

  “I know.”

  There was a pause before Sanji pushed him away gently and patted himself down before pulling out an almost-empty box of cigarettes. He pulled one out and lit up. He sighed smoke into the air as Zoro got up and opened the window. 

  “I’m going to be like this,” Sanji said as Zoro climbed back onto the bed, “a lot.”

  Zoro looked at him. Confident as he usually was, Sanji had never looked smaller and more vulnerable at that moment. “I don’t care,” Zoro said. “You never have to… control yourself with me.”

  Sanji turned to him with eyes widening before they filled with tears again. He cursed and wiped at them. Zoro caught his hands.

  “If I say something that hurts you, you can get angry, you can cry, you can try and kick my ass. You can do whatever you want, Sanji. I can take it.” Zoro paused and let his grip slacken. He’d learned silence was the worst punishment. Absence cold as ice seeping into his bones, he’d been at a loss for what to do. He didn’t want to go through that again. “And when you’re done… just come back. Or let me.” 

  “And if I don’t?”

  Zoro rolled his eyes. “Do you want me to take you back kicking and screaming? Because I will.”

  Sanji smirked, cigarette caught between his lips. His eyes were still red and puffy but whenever he looked at Zoro like that, the swordsman would feel his blood run hot. “You want me that bad, Zoro?”

  “Like nothing and no one I’ve ever met before.”

  Sanji laughed, one of his fingers slipping into Zoro’s collar and tugging him forward. “You’re fucking insane.”

  Zoro grinned as he drew close enough to Sanji to feel the faintest heat from his cigarette. “Not any more than you are.”

  “Real, actual amnesia?” Sanji blurted as he jerked up into a sitting position.

  They were back at Zoro’s with blankets up to their shins in the summer heat, leaving little to imagination—not that Zoro needed to imagine anything anymore. He was on his side, head in his hand, elbow in his pillow. 

  “That’s what Chopper said.” Zoro shrugged. “It’s similar to PTSD or… something.”

  Sanji threw Zoro an incredulous look. “Was it that bad? Am I supposed to be worried that you’ll forget again tomorrow?”

  Zoro scratched his head. This part… he was still a bit hesitant to talk about. But Sanji had laid a very intimate part of himself bare for Zoro already. It was only fair he did the same.

  “I have… problems with people. In some ways like you do.” He sat up. “Ever since the duel I told you about, Ace—and even Luffy—said I’ve been weird. Distant. It never made a difference to me how I treated people. Chopper said that might have something to do with it.”

  Sanji’s eyes were bright with understanding. It made Zoro blush under his gaze. Had the blond figured it out just from that?

  “So what Chopper is saying,” Sanji said slowly, “is that you haven’t allowed yourself to feel anything in so long that when we fucked, your brain shut down?” His grin was unbearably wide. Zoro put his head in his hand again, staring hard at the wall.

  “You make it sound like I was—”

  “Pathetic? I mean, you kind of were.”

  Zoro’s head snapped around so hard, his neck cracked. He glared at Sanji but knew anything he said would be moot. 

  “You said you loved me,” Sanji said softly. The expression in his eyes was lost partway to memory. “Well, more like you thought you did anyway. And a bunch of other embarrassing shit too.”

  The revelation was light on Zoro’s heart. Loved him. He… loved Sanji? Within a few hours of meeting him and kissing him for the first time, he had fallen in love. Supposedly. No, it made sense. From the second he had laid eyes on Sanji in front of his apartment, he had been smitten with a man he had never met. Maybe it had been totally physical in the very beginning, just like it had been the second time. And then it became more than that. At some point not long after. So much more, in fact, that it caused Zoro’s brain to process it as trauma and subsequently forget it all.

  He sighed. “This has never happened to me before,” he said.

  Sanji’s hand covered his, wrapping around his fingers. He leaned in and whispered in Zoro’s ear. “Am I supposed to take that as an admission of truth? Do you really love me, Zoro?”

  “Shut up,” Zoro growled. He leaned his head against Sanji’s bare shoulder. His skin was cool to the touch. It felt nice. “Let me figure it out first.”

  Sanji’s hand went to Zoro’s head, fingers threading his hair. The blond’s lips pressed against his forehead, filling him with some kind of euphoria. “Take your time, marimo. I’m not going anywhere.”

  Zoro smiled. In a way unlike any length of time he had spent putting himself in a state of zanshin , he felt calmer than he ever had. Sanji’s hands, his lips, his body, his beating heart—the proximity of it all made his body sing. There was nothing like this. No sea of tranquil calm could possibly let him feel like this. 

  He was sure of it.