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What really stings is that Zoro doesn’t even know who let the information spill.
Zoro is on the upper deck, halfway through his training. His muscles burn with the effort, the rays of the setting sun soaking into his skin, but every time he wants to stop, he sees Luffy flash before his eyes. The photo of Ace with a hole burned through the Whitebeard symbol on his back.
The exhaustion leaves Zoro as fast as it comes and he picks up another dumbbell.
There’s also another reason why he hasn’t left the upper training deck all day. Nami hasn’t stopped smiling at him all day and he knows exactly why.
The first one to find out is Nami because of course it is. She’s brilliant, she’s terrifying and she has so many sources scattered all across the world that it’s no surprise that she’s the first one to uncover the Straw Hat Pirates’ most closely guarded secret. Roronoa Zoro’s birthday.
A day before the wretched day, Nami sidles up to Zoro, her usual grin sitting idly on her face as she says, “So, it’s your birthday tomorrow, huh, Zoro?”
The dumbbell falls right onto Zoro’s foot and he doesn’t even blink. Nami’s words are far, far more painful. He just sighs, biting down on his tongue to keep from saying the exact words that come to his mind. Zoro wipes the sweat clinging to his brow. “How’d you find out, witch?”
Nami shrugs and she doesn’t really answer his question. “Robin said you didn’t want anyone to know.”
“Robin knows?”
“Uh, Robin knows, Chopper knows, I’m not sure if Luffy is really aware of what a birthday is? Oh, and Brook is writing a song as we speak.”
Zoro sighs. “A song.”
“It has a lot of skull jokes.”
“Shocker.” Zoro chews on the inside of his cheek. “Any chance you can talk him out of it?”
Nami smiles as she shakes her head. “Sorry. Everyone’s really excited.”
“Why?” Zoro asks, with mild contempt.
Nami leans against the railing of the upper deck, arms crossed over her chest with an expression that she usually wears before she beats the shit out of Usopp and Luffy. “Why not?”
Zoro clears his throat. This is not something he wants to get into with the witch right now, at this moment, so he changes the course of this conversation. “I mean. Yay. Fun.”
“It’ll be fine.” Nami says. “Trust me. We won’t treat you any differently.”
Nami’s statement turns out to be a lie. The second Zoro gets down from the upper deck, he’s greeted with the sight of Usopp and Chopper fixing green and yellow streamers all across the ship. They look up from their task to give Zoro a quick smile and if they notice his grimace, they don’t say. Brook is in the corner, cuddled up with a guitar and he dips his head in Zoro’s direction as if in acknowledgement.
“Zoro!” He hears his name being called before it’s followed by a familiar cackle. Zoro doesn’t even get a chance to turn on his heel and acknowledge Luffy before he tackled to the ground, Luffy’s long limbs wrapping around Zoro’s body with ease. Maybe there are some things that haven’t changed in two years. “Happy almost birthday!”
“Let me get up, Luffy.” Zoro whines, his legs falling asleep under Luffy’s strong grip. Luffy gives him a big grin before he moves to let Zoro to stand up.
“I can launch you off the ship if you want.”
Before Zoro can say anything, Nami appears out of thin air to punch Luffy on the head. A massive head wound the size of a country appears on Luffy’s head. “No, you will not launch him off the ship, are you insane — ”
A laugh bubbles out of Zoro before he can help it.
The rest of the evening is uneventful. Sanji makes a mini feast, but when Robin asks him what it’s for, the only response they get is a curt, “Nothing, Robin-chan.” Zoro just chews on a mouthful of rice as he watches the night fall.
It’s a bittersweet feeling when Zoro climbs into the hammock. He’s glad to finally get this day over with and sidle away from everyone’s attention that seems to be fixed solely on him. Luffy is passed out on the hammock beside him, a snot bubble making its way out his nose as the air carries the familiar sound of his loud snores. Chopper is asleep on top of him in the same state.
It’s relief that’s pumped into his lungs as splices of moonlight spill across the floor of the men’s dorms.
Zoro lies still in the hammock, eye focused on a point on the blank ceiling and he thinks about how much he’s missed the little things. Franky’s tinkering. Brook’s incessant humming under his breath. Sanji’s bickering.
Those two years away were important. After all, Pirate King is a lofty goal and the world’s greatest swordsman isn’t that far behind. He needed to get tougher, he needed to get stronger, they needed to start taking this seriously, but hell if he hasn’t missed this. Missed all of it.
The door to the dorm creaks and Zoro is suddenly wide awake. His hand flies to his sword, still strapped at his waist but neither Luffy nor Chopper stir, which makes it obvious that whoever this is, it isn’t a threat. That makes the tension seep out of his shoulders and Zoro lies back, arm flung over his eyes.
It’s not until the smell of tobacco starts to flit through the air that Zoro realizes it’s Sanji.
Zoro doesn’t bother opening his eye until he hears the flick of a lighter, the shadow of a flame falling over his cheek.
“Go away, I’m trying to sleep.”
Sanji clicks his tongue. “Shut up and listen.”
Zoro closes his eye again. “No.”
Sanji huffs, a swirl of smoke leaving his lips. Zoro’s eye catches on the corner of his mouth before he physically has to tear his eyes away. “I’m only doing this because Nami-san asked me to.”
“Not interested.”
“What kind of cake do you want?” Sanji asks, completely ignoring him.
“I don’t like cake.”
“What kind of psychopath doesn’t like cake?”
“Fuck off.”
“Just pick one. Any one.”
Zoro looks over to where Luffy and Chopper are asleep, pointing his thumb at them. “Wake them up and ask them.”
Sanji crosses his arms over his chest. “Chopper is going to say cotton candy.”
“Then I guess we’re having cotton candy.”
“Why are you being such an asshole about this?” Sanji asks.
He pushes the words through gritted teeth. Like he’s tired. Like he’s frustrated. Something about it rubs Zoro the wrong way and before he knows it, he’s sitting up in the hammock (which makes a bit of a ridiculous sight), flared with an anger he can’t understand.
There’s a small part of him that knows he’s being tough about this for no reason. The crew just wants to have fun. They just want a distraction for some time and up to some extent, Zoro can understand it. But he thinks about Mihawk. The scars on his chest. He thinks of the photo of Ace’s back in the newspaper and suddenly, the distractions seem feeble.
They need to get stronger. Wasting their time screwing around planning a birthday party for someone who doesn’t even want it, it’s not going to get them anywhere.
Sanji quirks an eyebrow and that’s when Zoro realizes he hasn’t said a word for the past few minutes. He clears his throat, shaking his head as he falls back into the hammock and closes his eyes.
Sanji sighs. He stands there, frozen in his spot like there’s something he wants to say, the words dancing right on the tip of his tongue. Zoro eyes him cautiously, but Sanji clearly decides against sharing whatever was on his mind.
Instead he says, “Welcome back, moss.” He mutters under his breath and Zoro listens to the door close behind him.
*
When Zoro wakes up the next day, it’s a strange morning. No one comes to wish him, the green and yellow streamers are gone and Sanji is nowhere to be seen, which is a mild bit of relief. He wonders if Sanji has said something to the others or maybe Nami did, but it doesn’t make any sense after their last conversation.
Still. Zoro is not one to look a gift horse in the mouth.
He spends half of his birthday morning in blissful silence on the upper deck. Zoro leans against the railing, watching the seagulls flit by. Sanji makes takoyaki again — just like yesterday, which is a bit strange but Zoro doesn’t think much of it. The more normal, the better.
Zoro hears Brook humming the same tune as yesterday. He sees Chopper climb onto Franky’s head and press his nose from above, like he did yesterday. Luffy bursts out of the kitchen, mouth stuffed with rice and Sanji chucks a dishcloth at him from the inside. Just like yesterday.
It’s not until he’s up training, watching the setting sun from the corner of his eye when Nami walks up the stairs and asks, “So, it’s your birthday tomorrow, huh, Zoro?”
Zoro blinks. “What?”
That seems to catch Nami off-guard. “It’s your birthday tomorrow, right? I mean, Robin told me so I thought…”
The dumbbell doesn’t drop onto his foot, but Zoro is definitely confused. There’s a lot going through his mind as he processes Nami’s statement. It’s something along the lines of: wait, she’s pranking me. She’s definitely pranking me. Zoro straightens up. It’s a prank. That’s all it is, a stupid joke and there’s no reason for Zoro to not humor her.
“Yeah, it is.”
“Robin said you didn’t want anyone to know.”
Zoro shrugs. She somehow managed to get the tone right, exactly like it was yesterday. “Uh, she’s right.”
“It’ll be fine.” Nami says. “Trust me. We won’t treat you any differently.”
There’s the feast again. Robin asks Sanji what the feast is for and he doesn’t answer her again. There’s a headache knocking at the sides of his skull like an impending thunderstorm. The plummet in his stomach is something akin to the feeling you get right before the drop on a rollercoaster. His organs lurch, his heart jumps up into his throat and he’s filled to the brim with this restless feeling, this terror that something has terribly gone wrong.
Still, there’s no evidence to support the fact that this is anything but an extremely elaborate prank, so Zoro goes along with it. Luffy offers to launch him off the ship and gets punched. He’s answering the same questions, watching Chopper and Usopp hang up green and yellow streamers, listening to Franky’s and Brook’s duet and it’s making his skin crawl.
It’s a joke. It’s eerie how they’ve nailed every single thing, but it’s a joke. Nothing more than a joke.
Night falls and Zoro stays in the hammock, listening to Luffy and Chopper snore. The door opens. Sanji walks up to him and asks him about the cake with an extremely disgruntled expression on his face. The moonlight settles over the ground like fine dust, catching in the wisps of Sanji’s hair and in the back of Zoro’s ear.
Zoro blinks. “They got you, too?”
“The fuck are you talking about?” Sanji mutters, clicking his tongue. “Just pick a cake and then we can stop talking.”
“Cotton candy.” Zoro says, trying to get a rise out of Sanji, but it doesn’t happen. He doesn’t get a reaction, almost like Sanji doesn’t remember the conversation happening at all.
“You don’t eat cotton candy, shut up.” Sanji says, and he’s clearly biting down on the inside of his cheek, trying not to let his voice rise. Zoro is pretty sure a tsunami couldn’t wake Chopper and Luffy. “Don’t turn this into a joke.”
“You’re the one who’s joking, Curly. Make me cotton candy or don’t bake a fucking cake.”
God, Zoro would give his other eye for this night to be over already.
“Fine.” Sanji says, turning on his heel. Zoro is pretty sure he hasn’t hallucinated Sanji muttering asshole under his breath.
Sanji does it again. He stands by the hammock, long after the conversation has concluded until he changes his mind and leaves. Again. If Zoro were a smart man, he would’ve attributed the red of Sanji’s cheeks to being nothing more than a trick of the light.
Zoro bites back on a laugh and closes his eyes, willing for the sleep to take over him and get this day over with already.
*
Zoro wakes up on the day before his birthday. Then it happens again. And again.
*
The third time around, Zoro drives a knife through his hand to keep himself up. The time inches closer and closer towards midnight and Zoro thinks he’s actually succeeded this time around. This time, he’ll be able to move past this day and these same horrible conversations. As he thinks he’s gotten away with it — fifty-six minutes from midnight — Chopper wakes up with a scream.
“Zoro, you’re bleeding!”
The smell of blood in their dorm room even wakes up Luffy, whose immediate concern is etched all over his face. Forty-five minutes. They bandage Zoro’s hand and Sanji bursts in through the door, lower lip bleeding like he’s been worrying at it with his front tooth. The ropes of the hammock drip with red, red, red.
Luffy and Sanji talk in hushed tones while Chopper checks him for any visible injuries. Sanji gets him a glass of water while Chopper pushes a tablet into Zoro’s mouth.
“What is it?” Zoro asks as he swallows the medicine down and he sees a flash of yellow in the corner of his eye — so concerned, always so worried — before it fades to black.
*
It’s the fourth time now and Zoro is starting to lose his mind. He moved past the possibility of this being a joke the last time because there has to be a limit to how funny the same regurgitated joke can be. This isn’t a joke.
Nami asking him if it’s his birthday tomorrow in the same tone is no longer a joke. The sight of those yellow and green streamers is starting to make Zoro nauseous. When Brook asks for Zoro’s opinion on his song, Zoro wants to be honest and say, I’ve heard it five times before and it’s really not getting any better. But he catches Nami’s eye over the seated Brook’s shoulder and Zoro swallows down his negative words.
He’s never seen a skeleton smile this wide before.
Night falls and Zoro stays in the hammock, listening to Luffy and Chopper snore. When Zoro’s fingers curl into his palms, he realizes they’re cold to the touch. Ice-cold. He’s nervous. For a man who’s faced death as many times as he has, Zoro has never once been this nervous.
The door opens. The air is laced with the faint scent of tobacco.
Zoro doesn’t even bother opening his eyes this time, even when Sanji brings a fierce kick down on his head that Zoro easily blocks. Even with his eyes closed. Muscle memory. “What kind of cake do you want, mosshead?” Sanji asks and Zoro tastes blood in his mouth.
“I don’t want any fucking cake.” Zoro bites, and there’s a tremor in his voice as he says the words.
He’s met with terse silence and when Zoro opens his eyes, he’s met with Sanji’s worried expression. All traces of humor wiped, eyebrow nearly melding into his hairline as he cautiously looks at Zoro.
“Are you okay?”
Zoro sits up and Sanji stays rooted in his spot. Zoro considers telling him about how he’s heard Sanji ask him this exact same question in the exact same place at the exact same time, but he considers how unhinged that will sound. The last thing he needs is the Curly’s sass.
So, Zoro scoffs and shakes his head. “I’m fine. Make cotton candy.”
Like the past three times, Sanji doesn’t question his odd culinary choice. Unlike last time, Sanji doesn’t ask him if all his taste buds rot due to excessive alcohol consumption. He just continues staring at Zoro in that concerned, mother hen kind of way and it makes bile climb up Zoro’s throat.
“Are you — ”
“I said I’m fine. Just go away, Curly.”
“Why are you being such an asshole about this?” Sanji asks.
He sounds tired. Frustrated. The time inches closer and closer towards midnight. Flicks of silver and white catch in Sanji’s hair. His back is to the moon, the light curling around the back of his head like a soft halo and even the mere sight of him is making Zoro angry, an itch running rampant under his skin.
He’s angry and he’s tired and he’s scared —
He’s scared.
Zoro is so scared.
“Sorry if I don’t want to fuck around, wasting time on something as stupid as baking a fucking cake — when we could be training and getting stronger. I’m so sorry that I’m the only person who even remembers what happened the last time we left Luffy alone here. I’m so sorry that only I care about how fucking weak I am — and I won’t — I would never — ”
Zoro wouldn’t dare make a mistake as grave as that one. Ever again.
Zoro’s voice is almost as loud as a scream. From the corner of his eye, he sees Chopper stir and there’s a tiny coil of guilt unfurling itself in the pit of his stomach. But Chopper falls right back asleep, tucking his head away into the tiny space between Luffy’s neck and his jaw and the silence falls again, heavy as a sledgehammer.
It takes Zoro a minute to work up the courage to look at Sanji’s face again. He’s bathed in the silver of the moonlight, all soft blues and only half of his face is lit by the flaming end of his cigarette.
“We all failed him. It wasn’t just you.” Sanji states, and there’s not even a lilt of hesitation in his voice. “Stop acting like a selfish jerk.” This time, Sanji doesn’t wait around to say whatever he wanted to say, instead he turns on his heel and leaves a trail of smoke in his wake.
It’s an hour till midnight, till the day resets and Zoro is gone back to the hell of talking to people who don’t remember that he’s lived through this day before.
Zoro has never tried leaving the room before, but there’s a headache pounding at the sides of his head that refuses to let him fall asleep. Fifty-five minutes. He pushes himself out of the hammock and walks the long walk to Sanji’s kitchen. Fifty minutes. Splices of lemon chiffon escape from underneath the door and Zoro knocks. Forty-eight minutes.
“Go away.” is Sanji’s curt reply as Zoro pushes the door open without asking for permission.
Sanji’s back is to him as he’s hunched over the kitchen counter. He’s scribbling away on a notepad, fingertips stained blue with ink and he doesn’t look up once, not even when Zoro moves to stand in front of him. The press of Sanji’s pen against the paper is loud in the silence of the kitchen.
“I said go away.”
“I’m sorry.” Zoro says and that causes Sanji’s head to snap up in surprise, eyes wide.
Sanji drops the pen in a dramatic way and sits back with his arms crossed over his chest, wearing an extremely cocky expression on his face — which is something Zoro should’ve seen coming from a mile away.
“What did you say?”
Zoro rolls his eyes. “Don’t make me say it again.”
Sanji’s eyes run over Zoro’s face once before he bursts into a fit of giggles. Zoro’s heart skips a beat at the sound of that, but he refuses to acknowledge any of it. He merely clears his throat. Thirty-five minutes.
“You really are full of surprises sometimes, moss.” Sanji says, and his smile melds into something more wistful. “I meant what I said. It wasn’t just you.”
That twists somewhere deep inside Zoro, any traces of amusement he was feeling from earlier having faded away. He’s pierced by shrapnels of disgust, the self-hatred creeping up around the corners and Mihawk’s words ring in his ears. A swordsman needs to trust himself as much as he trusts his swords. But Zoro doesn’t know if he can ever trust himself again.
Twenty-seven minutes.
“There’s something I have to tell you.” Zoro says, and Sanji’s eyes flare. Sanji’s eyelashes sweep the pale expanse of his pink cheek as he blinks.
“What is it?”
“I think I might be stuck in a loop. A time loop. I’ve lived this day four times now and I’m — I think I might be losing my mind.”
Sanji stares at him like he’s grown a third head. “The fuck are you talking about?”
Zoro chuckles, burying his face in his palms. Twenty minutes until the day resets and he’s made no progress, no new developments and the one person he wants to talk to thinks he’s insane. Maybe this is his hell, his punishment for not being strong enough for Luffy and all Zoro can do is take it. Roll with the punches as they come.
“Nothing. It’s nothing.”
Zoro moves away from the counter and walks towards the door. He looks at Sanji one last time — this Sanji, that is — and swallows the urge to trace the brush of blue ink against Sanji’s cheekbone.
“I’ll see you tomorrow or today or whatever, I don’t — ” Zoro breaks off with a sigh. “I really don’t know.”
“Zoro.”
Zoro freezes, his hand still on the doorknob and he turns on his heel to face Sanji. He can’t remember the last time Sanji called his name.
“Tell me what happened.”
Sanji isn’t laughing. There is no twinkle in his eye, no secret grin that could prove to Zoro that Sanji is going to make fun of him for it. Zoro hates this uncertainty more than he can fathom it.
Zoro takes a deep breath. “I have fifteen minutes until this day resets and I have to live through this day again. None of you remember anything. It’s just me. I’ve done all of this before four times now and I don’t know what — ” Zoro breaks off into a sigh. Thirteen minutes. “I don’t know what I’m going to do.”
Sanji still isn’t laughing. He takes a minute to let the information soak in before he moves. Sanji puts the pen away and he stands three steps away from Zoro, eyebrows furrowed.
“How long do you have now?”
Zoro does the math in his head. “Nine minutes.”
“So, nine minutes later, you’re going to — ” Sanji pauses for a second. “ — live through this day… again.”
Zoro nods before he lets his hand drop from the doorknob. Maybe he should see where this goes. He hasn’t been outside of the dorm rooms for the reset before, much less having another person watching him so closely when it’ll happen.
“Do you believe me?” Zoro asks and Sanji picks at the end of his shirt.
“I don’t know.” Sanji mutters. Five minutes. “But if you’re not lying, I want to help you.”
“You’re not going to remember this tomorrow.” Zoro reminds him.
“You can tell me again.”
“You’ll think I’m crazy.”
“Trust me, seaweed, you really don’t know what I think of you.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
Sanji shrugs, not offering an answer. “How long?”
“Three minutes.”
“Next time, don’t wait so long to tell me.”
“Thank you.” Zoro says and Sanji’s eyes soften.
He reaches for Zoro’s hand and he’s saying something, but Zoro’s knees buckle. He fades into unconsciousness, never finding out what Sanji was trying to tell him.
*
The next day — or rather a different iteration of the same day — Zoro finds Sanji in the kitchen, halfway through preparing his feast. His sleeves are rolled up that he works on undoing and pulls them down, fixing them at his wrists. There’s sweat sticking to his brow, flour clinging to his jacket and Zoro doesn’t know if it’s the expression on his face or something else entirely that determines Sanji’s actions.
Sanji doesn’t kick him out of the kitchen.
Instead, Sanji leaves his work, his food unfinished and he listens to Zoro tell his batshit insane story with as much seriousness as he can possibly muster.
They rule out the possibility of Zoro having eaten some weird Devil Fruit by accident after Sanji pushes Zoro into the sea in an attempt to drown him. Zoro easily swims back up to the top, feeling angry and amused and there’s an ache in his chest that’s never been there before.
“What the hell was that?!” Zoro screams from the water, prepared to draw his swords, but Sanji’s loud, bright laughter makes him stop.
“Just testing something. Sorry.” Sanji says, clearly not sorry at all.
They ask Chopper to look through the books for something like this. A mental condition (Sanji’s suggestion) or a curse or a potion gone wrong, but Chopper only gets halfway through. They don’t find a solution and Zoro tries not to let it get to him.
It’s going to take time. Zoro knows it’s going to take time, but he’s tired of those streamers, of Nami’s question and Brook’s song. He’s so tired.
They find themselves on the kitchen floor as the time inches further and further towards midnight. They’re sitting across each other — not touching — but Sanji hasn’t never been in this close proximity to him ever, outside of the battlefield. It’s nice, getting along for once.
Sanji lights a cigarette with his lighter, blowing a bout of smoke past his lips before he speaks. “Do you think we might’ve fixed it this time?”
Zoro shrugs. At this point, it’s anyone’s guess. Sanji deflates at Zoro’s gesture, looking almost crushed.
“Let’s say we fixed it. What kind of cake do you want?”
Zoro scoffs, breaking into a smile. It makes Sanji blink.
“What?”
“You’ve asked me this exact question six times now.”
“Oh.” Sanji says. “Sorry.”
“It’s fine.” Zoro reaches for the hilt of his sword. “Cotton candy.”
Sanji wrinkles his nose. “Since when did you start eating sweet things? I was expecting you to say ‘a pile of meat’ like the caveman that you are.”
“Chopper likes cotton candy.”
“But it’s your birthday.”
Zoro shrugs. “I don’t care.”
“Why not?”
“We don’t need any more distractions.”
Recognition flashes across Sanji’s face. Somehow, he seems to know exactly what Zoro is talking about. For all the times they haven’t gotten along, Zoro is glad to have Sanji on his side right now. The only person who can ever understand the guilt and the anger that the two of them will have to bear on their shoulders.
Luffy’s wings.
Sanji smokes his cigarette to completion before he speaks again. “You know, those two years… there were days when I woke up and I really didn’t know what the hell I was going to do with myself. Luffy was gone, Nami-san wasn’t there and you — ” Sanji breaks off into a cough. “I mean, I missed this. All of it. And yeah, we needed to train. We needed to get stronger, but it’s okay to give time to the stupid things sometimes.”
“I know what it’s like to blame yourself, trust me.” Sanji continues, watching the ash fall away from the end of the cigarette. “We should’ve been there for him. Maybe Ace would’ve — ” Sanji shakes his head, biting his tongue. “Maybe he would’ve lived, but it didn’t happen. We shouldn’t waste time thinking about the things that didn’t happen.”
“I was weak.” Zoro says, and Sanji’s next intake of breath is sharp. “I lost because I was weak.”
Thirty minutes.
“It’s not just your fault.”
“I should’ve been by his side at Marineford. Both of us.”
Sanji looks positively conflicted and Zoro’s heart wrenches in his chest. There’s that ache again.
Sanji moves from his place opposite Zoro to sit next to him. Their shoulders brush, making Zoro tense. He hadn’t realized that the physical space between them had basically fucking evaporated into thin air. He goes to move, to give Sanji some space but Sanji’s next words make him freeze.
“We should have, but we weren’t.” Sanji says, softly. “Nothing we can do about it now. We have to try and move on.”
“I don’t know if I can.” Zoro says, and he sounds so helpless, it’s pathetic. If Mihawk saw him right now, he wouldn’t let Zoro hear the end of it.
Twenty-two minutes.
Outside the window of the kitchen, Zoro can hear Brook’s singing, Robin humming along and Luffy’s loud cheers as he tries to sing along. Zoro has heard it all before, every single variant, but there’s still a golden light unfurling inside his chest. He has missed them so much. All of them.
If Zoro lets any of them down again, he doesn’t know what he’ll do with himself.
“Zoro. Zoro, look at me.”
There he goes, calling Zoro’s name again. It sounds so unfamiliar on Sanji’s tongue, completely alien but Zoro could get used to this. The soft lilt of Sanji’s voice saying his name. Zoro looks.
“It wasn’t your fault.”
Zoro feels so pathetic, so weak and all he can think back to is him getting on his knees in front of Mihawk so he’d never have to feel so weak again. Still, the tears come — a disgusting tidal wave and he buries his face in the collar of Sanji’s shirt to hide from Sanji’s knowing gaze.
And, it happens. It happens. Sanji pulls him in, like he has his own force of gravity and Zoro crashes into Sanji’s firm embrace. The tears fall, taunting and traitorous. Zoro buries his face into Sanji’s shoulder, heart pounding beneath the cage of his ribs and Sanji holds onto him, gripping the back of his neck tight like he’s terrified to let him go.
“I don’t know what I’m going to do.” Zoro says, so softly that he isn’t even sure if Sanji hears him.
“We’ll figure it out.” Sanji says, running his hand through the tuft of Zoro’s hair. “Don’t we always?”
This time, Zoro doesn’t even notice when the clock strikes midnight.
*
The day repeats three more times. As per Sanji’s suggestion, Zoro notes down everything, every talk they have, every conclusion they draw up. Zoro doesn’t write anything about Ace or Sanji telling him it wasn’t his fault, but there’s always an undercurrent to their conversations that gives Zoro the feeling that there’s something Sanji isn’t telling him.
On day nine, Zoro finally asks him.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” is the only answer he gets.
Zoro leans against the kitchen counter as Sanji stirs a pot of soup, back to Zoro, but Zoro doesn’t miss the tension in Sanji’s shoulders.
“Why’d you believe me?” Zoro asks and Sanji flinches. “I mean, what made you think I wasn’t lying to you?”
“Were you?”
“No.”
“Then that’s enough for me.”
“Sanji.” Zoro pleads. “Just tell me. Please.”
Sanji sighs. He turns the stove off and pops the window open, letting in a steady stream of moonlight. He spins on his heel, leaning against the countertop and he’s sparkling bright, so bright. There’s a lining of faint pink along Sanji’s cheekbone.
“If we ever find a way to break you out of this, I’ll tell you.”
*
Day ten. Zoro tells Sanji again. Nami asks him about his birthday again. This time, when Sanji asks about the birthday cake, Zoro tells him that he doesn’t want cake and wants fifteen bottles of alcohol instead. Sanji laughs, loud and bright, and his words ring in Zoro’s ears.
If we ever find a way to break you out of this, I’ll tell you.
From the start of the day, Zoro does it all as practiced. Despite Nami’s protests, he lets Luffy launch him into the sea. He compliments Brook’s song. He hoists Chopper onto his shoulders to help him hang up the yellow and green streamers.
Zoro isn’t faking any of it. He genuinely no longer feels like it’s a distraction, like it’s a waste of time but it’s all a lost cause, anyway. They still haven’t figured out a way to break the loop. It might be driving Zoro a little mad, but he knows they will figure it out. They will.
It’s almost midnight. The moonlight beats down on Sanji’s face, highlighting all the sharp angles and soft skin. Zoro bites down on the inside of his cheek as he tries not to make his staring too obvious.
“How long?”
“Fifteen minutes.”
“Fuck.” Sanji says, softly. “I’m sorry.”
“You’ll make me cry, Curly, stop it.”
Sanji doesn’t laugh. He looks disappointed, but it’s not directed towards Zoro at all. “I really thought we’d get you out of it this time.”
“It’s okay.” Zoro says, and he really means it. “It is okay.”
Sanji shrugs, but his face is downcast, lips pulled into a soft frown that looks so out of place on his face. Zoro never wants to see that look on his face ever again.
“If it helps,” Zoro starts, nudging Sanji’s knee with his own. “I don’t even know if I ever would’ve made it this far without you.”
Sanji scoffs. “You wouldn’t know where to look with me.”
Zoro can’t pull his eyes away from the flush on Sanji’s cheeks, the lining of freckles. Zoro traces every inch of this Sanji’s face, committing it to memory. He feels the jump of his pulse under the bones of his wrist and he steadily ignores it. This isn’t the time.
“Did I ever… say something?” Sanji asks, eyes focused on a point on the floor. “In the previous loops.”
“Like what?”
“Something that didn’t make sense to you when I said it.”
Zoro blinks. “Last time, I asked you why you believed me.” He doesn’t miss Sanji’s flinch from the corner of his eye. “You said that if we ever made it out of this, you’d tell me.”
“Oh.” Sanji replies. He won’t meet Zoro’s eyes.
Say something, Zoro wants to beg and plead, but he keeps his mouth shut. His teeth gnaw away at the inside of his cheek in fear, anticipation, his fingers tingling from how hard he’s gripping that counter behind him. He doesn’t even realize he’s holding his breath until his lungs scream for oxygen.
“I thought it would be a lot more ceremonious, but here goes. I’ve been thinking about this since we got the crew back together. I don’t know, I guess those two years put a lot more into perspective for me than just the training. Then there was this — this whole time loop stuff and I just — I don’t know how to say this when I know I won’t remember it tomorrow.”
Zoro is expecting Sanji to say a lot of things. What he isn’t expecting is for Sanji to duck his head, smile almost wistfully and say, “I’m in love with you, idiot.”
The clock strikes twelve and Zoro doesn’t black out.
“Oh.” Zoro says this time. “Sanji, it’s — ”
Then Sanji grins, wide and contagious and he’s the brightest thing Zoro has ever seen.
“Happy birthday, mosshead.”
It’s joy, it’s relief, it’s realization running through his veins and Zoro doesn’t even stop to acknowledge Sanji’s confession. Zoro can’t bring himself to care as he brings his face closer to Sanji’s, resting his forehead against Sanji’s. Sanji’s breath is frost, but his palms are warm, a beacon of comfort as Zoro curls his fingers into them.
Zoro kisses him first.
There’s a distinct taste of mint toothpaste on Sanji’s tongue — the kind they all share — but Zoro is more or less distracted by the heat of his mouth as he gets pulled in by Sanji’s gravity. Sanji’s fingers slip from his hair to the back of his neck and god, he's such a good kisser that Zoro never, ever wants to let go.
He’s not thinking of the consequences. He’s not thinking of tomorrow morning when they’re both going to wake up and realize that things have changed now. Instead, he’s thinking of the arm he has slung around Sanji’s waist, Sanji’s hands knotting into his shirt, tight and almost possessive. When they break apart, Sanji seems to realize how tightly his hands are wound in Zoro’s hair and he lets go, seemingly embarrassed.
“So, we did it.” Sanji says, and Zoro breaks into soft laughter.
Zoro cups his fingers around Sanji’s chin, pulling him in. Sanji gasps softly, but his hands on Zoro’s waist feel like they’ve always been there.
“I guess we did.” Zoro says, smiling.
*