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It’s a pretty tame day in the Sunny.
The idleness of Nami’s log pose suggest they are (fortunately) unfortunately not stopping by a suspicious-looking island to catch trouble any time soon.
It’s no fun, but it’s fine. Nami may have said they’ve already gone a year’s worth of dilemma, but she seems to acquiesce on her captain’s whims about visiting the next island that her watch thingies decide to go bonkers for.
So for now, Luffy stays put— just like he’s told, and observes the little Kingdom he had built on the seas.
It’s a pretty tame day in the Sunny, but everyone sure is occupied.
His sniper is not on the mood for playing around this time, and stays holed up in his factory instead to work with a new invention.
His doctor’s not roaming around the deck either, which means he must be in his little clinic— swiveling his chair as he ponders for a cure about an ailment.
His cook has been skittering around the kitchen most of the time, either to organize their supplies in the galley or to prepare for their upcoming suppers. When he sneaks a hand in the fridge for a refreshment, he surprisingly didn’t get himself kicked out. Which is new, and is very weird.
True to her word, his navigator seems to be taking the day off pretty seriously, and has finally gone to accompany his archaeologist in the upper deck after spending hours hunched over her mapping desk.
His musician, of course, is practicing in the aquarium bar where the atmosphere is nice and serene.
Meanwhile, his helmsman is steering the ship to maintain a steady course, and his shipwright is at the crow’s nest for his watch duty.
Which leaves him and his swordsman. His Second.
Just like it used to.
It takes him back to when his little Kingdom was just a mere dinghy, with their shoulders brushing and limbs brawling to reclaim inches in the cramped space. Trying to make do of a home that barely fits a crew, let alone a King.
Now, his Second has all the room he needs, and yet he’s still here— perched on his usual spot at the port side of Sunny, directly opposite to where he is.
Like Icarus to the Sun, his Second can’t seem to look away— as if he’s drawn to his light and bound for his touch.
May it be his swords that seemed to always lay close to where he is, his shiny earrings that dangle on the wind to remind him of his presence, or his funny hair that manages to poke out in the corner of his eyes— Luffy always notices his Second lingering near or looking at him. Something about it prompts his lips to stretch wide and his chest to swell with pride.
“Can’t fall asleep, Zoro?”
Across the ship, Zoro just stares back at him with a blank look. His arms pillow his head leisurely, but the second Luffy latches his legs onto Sunny’s railing to hoist himself up, Zoro’s already straightening from his position and scurrying to him.
His Second is funny, Luffy thinks. His reaction is funny, too. It’s an expression Luffy doesn’t often see on Zoro when he waltzes into a spontaneous fight. It’s what Zoro wears on more trivial stuff, like when Luffy’s about to befriend a mysterious-looking guy (who probably has ill intentions), or when he hovers too close on Sunny’s rails to marvel the sea. It’s interesting.
Luffy fidgets on the small space of the railing to make himself comfortable, and Zoro’s just in time to steady him with a tight grip on his vest. He hastily ushers Luffy to his left until he’s backed against the wall and is not leaning his weight towards the ocean. “Can’t stay put, captain?” Zoro mimics, now donning a frown on his face.
Luffy tilts his head to the side. “I am staying put,” he passively says, gesturing to his now-fixed sitting position. “See?” Zoro’s just dumb.
“Well, you aren’t if you get yourself thrown overboard.”
“If.” Luffy smiles excessively wide, and Zoro gets it. He gets why. “But I won’t.”
The hand on his vest clenches tighter for a moment, seemingly pensive before eventually letting go. Zoro sighs, and Luffy watches as he crouch down to sit on the grass and lean his back on the railing of Sunny’s starboard.
He stays close, and Luffy keeps on smiling.
“Yeah,” Zoro eventually says.
Zoro’s earrings catches light under the sun and Luffy stares. His eyes trace the movement of the gilt as they glimmer and sway into the whirls of the wind— almost going unnoticed unless he looks closely, but when he does, he can’t look away.
It’s pretty.
Luffy may only be facing Zoro’s side from this angle, but it was enough for him to notice the crease that’s beginning to form on the latter’s brows. He’s frowning, and his face scrunch almost in a comical way from the scorching heat. Luffy laughs.
“Your face is funny, Zoro.”
“Hah?” Zoro rumbles. There’s a subtle lilt to it, but he doesn’t rise from the offense. Instead, he remains rigid with his arms crossed, only slightly bending his head to reduce bathing on direct sunlight.
Luffy hums. “Say Zoro, aren’t you going back to your favorite spot?”
Zoro doesn’t say anything. Luffy’s halfway convinced he already drifted to sleep, if not for the shrug he offers after a while.
“It’s hot,” Zoro belatedly says, and doesn’t elaborate further.
Luffy glances back to the other side of the ship, to where Zoro previously was, then trails his eyes across the tan of Zoro’s skin.
He erupts into giggles shortly after, thinking how stupid Zoro must really be.
After all, the shade is on the port side of Sunny.
Staying put progressively becomes difficult every passing second. It requires more muscle energy than Luffy had initially anticipated, and he thinks it’s even more tiring than bounding off across the ship’s lawn.
Tap, tap, tap, tap. His fingers drum absentmindedly on the wooden baluster, looking so bored out of his mind from being still for (approximately 10 minutes) a mini eternity.
Staring at the ocean was fun, but his eyes have grown tired from continuously keeping a lookout for fish— or food, to emerge from the waters and be compliant enough for him to catch and add to their collection.
He wants to keep his hands busy and do something, but he has no places to be; his companion doesn’t seem to share the sentiment of playing either, so he relents on asking Zoro, too.
The tapping finally stops when he pries his hands off the rails to stretch, finally taking pity of his stationary victim. His feet dangle restlessly as he rocks back and fourth, agitated. He couldn’t think of ways on how to quietly spend the waves of energy that wrack through him.
“You surprisingly lasted longer today,” a voice says.
Luffy snaps his head to Zoro’s direction, eyes wide and curious as Zoro’s unstirred figure comes into view. He’s now awake, and a pout soon make its way on Luffy’s face upon realizing that his efforts of staying quiet are all for naught. “Zoro’s a light sleeper.”
Zoro huffs. “It’s hard to sleep when trouble’s just around the corner.”
Though the latter doesn’t see it, Luffy still flashes a sheepish smile towards his way and laughs. It’s at times like this when he gets reminded how Zoro’s most likely aware of all his previous ministrations because of haki. Admittedly, Luffy deems it unnecessary to use observation haki for this, unless Zoro really wants the utmost perception of his surroundings at all times (that for some reason, it inevitably extends to his captain as well).
Luffy curls his toes.
Attention.
Truthfully, he doesn’t really care about attention.
He’s not a hero who basks in the limelight and leeches off of people’s praises as he saves the day. In the end, he still doesn’t like sharing, and he doesn’t care about what people think of him or see in him.
It’s what makes him a pirate. A pirate who simply takes and does as he wants and protects his hoard. A King who’s the most free and is not bound to do either of the opposite spectrums.
So, yes. Luffy doesn’t care about attention.
And yet there’s something achingly different when he turns on the ball of his heel and finds Zoro already staring.
Maybe it’s the way Zoro’s looking not because he wants to take something from him, but because he wants to remind himself that Luffy’s feet and arms are still intact, or his hat is still clinging on his neck if not sitting on the crown of his head, or he wants to make sure there’s no new prominent scar incised to Luffy’s skin without him knowing.
It’s not only restricted to just looking, either.
When Luffy manages to set one foot in the grave amidst an onslaught, Zoro knowingly carves down the same path for himself. No matter how hard the blow is; no matter how much it would take a toll on his body, he would jump right in front of the gun.
When Zoro’s name rolls out of his tongue even in the dead of the night, Zoro climbs down his hammock with urgency and calls back to him. It doesn’t matter if he responds with a snarl or with words laced in worry.
He never denies him.
And Zoro’s sense of direction may be a disaster, but somehow, he never loses his way when its Luffy who calls for him. His feet manages to take him to Luffy, always.
He comes, and Luffy knows—
— because it’s Zoro. His Second.
Luffy inhales.
Something unfamiliar suddenly stutters in his chest. He reaches out to grapple on it, to rip it off, but then it’s gone a second later. Fleeting and short-lived, as if it didn’t intend to stay but it wants its presence known. Luffy can’t quite put a finger to what it is. After all, having the wind knocked out of him doesn’t make sense when he’s out in the open and is vulnerable to air.
Unbidden, he finally straightens up from where he’s propped and clambers down the rails.
He knows Zoro’s already looking, because Zoro is always looking, and Luffy’s feet are even more giddy and light as he makes his way to him. Zoro only lifts his head to match his gaze, a silent query dancing just beneath his lips.
Luffy inhales. Exhales. Inhales. Zoro’s eye follow the rhythmic rise and fall of his chest, and Luffy waits and waits and waits, until it returns.
“I feel funny,” he blurts out.
Zoro raises a brow. There’s a pregnant pause that indicates he’s thinking, so Luffy waits. He swings his arms as he does.
“You sure it’s not just another stomachache?”
“Silly Zoro!” Luffy exclaims, high-pitched and whimsy. He knew Zoro was going to ask that. “How would I get a tummyache if I haven’t eaten anything yet!”
“You did!” Zoro protests, now very much awake and resolute on having Luffy remember.
Granted, Luffy’s face morph from pure puzzlement into recognition. “Oh.” He scratches his head and Zoro all but sighs. “But that was like, half an hour ago Zoro! And it still can’t be a tummyache, ‘cause I can’t have a tummyache in my chest.”
Zoro frowns. “Chest?”
Luffy nods eagerly. “Yeah!”
A pair of smooth, rubbery hands then stretched to snatch a wrist tucked between Zoro’s arm and tugs. Zoro was towed hard enough that his palm now hovers just above a familiar x-shaped chest scar. It’s a mark that recognizes their loss two years ago, but it’s also the mark that reminds them the genesis of their advancement in the New World.
Zoro keeps on staring. He doesn’t initiate to move, as if what’s presented in front of him is the forbidden fruit that once lured Eve to her doom. As if he’s not allowed to touch and all he can do is look.
“Here,” Luffy instructs with another tug. Subtle, this time. He may be the world’s most patient man right now because he waits and waits and waits again, until Zoro finally draws his fingers forward and bridges the gap.
Zoro fell deathly still afterwards. His hand is now completely immobile to where it lays flat on the chafed skin of Luffy’s chest. The contact is featherlight— a stark contrast to his swordsman’s nature, and Luffy only giggles. It tickles.
Being under Zoro’s scrutiny with a firm hand holding him in place made Luffy feel like he’s once again bared on an operation table, ready to be examined. Except it’s not Torao who’s operating on him, but Zoro.
Zoro’s hand is rough and calloused to the touch, but Luffy feels oddly comforted by it. Each blister parades both the victories and endeavors they’ve been through— a clear indication of the weight someone with Zoro’s caliber is bound to bear and carry.
It’s very like him, and Luffy likes it.
“See?” Luffy presses. “Did you feel it, Zoro?” Because he feels it, still. Alive and resonating, like it wants to burst out of his rib cage.
When Zoro breaks away from the contact all of a sudden, he looks borderline burned. His skin is flushed and his hand felt hot and clammy from where he last touched Luffy. And Luffy— bless his heart, decides to stay quiet for once and gives Zoro a few seconds to collect his bearings.
Zoro clears his throat shortly after. He doesn’t meet his eyes as he says, “I don’t know, Captain, but I think you should be consulting the doctor, and not the swordsman.”
Zoro’s probably right. Luffy only hollers though, seemingly amused about a completely different matter. “Zoro’s so red! Like a tomato!” He shoves his face closer in Zoro’s proximity and inspects the crimson that accentuates Zoro’s neck. “Are you shy? Or are you sick and you need to see Chopper?”
Zoro sneaks a hand to rub his neck, appearing quite mortified. “Nothing’s wrong with me. I’m never sick.”
“Then shy it is!” Luffy grins. “As for me though, I don’t need to ask Chopper. I know what I need.”
“Yeah..” Zoro says. He doesn’t sound too convinced though. His good eye stays unblinking as he looks at his captain incredulously. “And that is?”
Luffy’s grin grows impossibly wide. “A swim.”
A pause.
“What?”
The moment stretches, and Zoro’s mouth gapes as Luffy’s response registers. The beet red on his skin now long gone and is replaced with unadulterated dread.
Before Zoro could grab a rubber arm, Luffy sways out of reach and springs toward the railing. For a split-second, Zoro’s eye looks like its about to pop out its eye socket when Luffy finally jumps overboard. He stretches his arms outwards— as wide and free as the sun engulfs the vast sea. His hair flutters against the winds, awfully resembling the pristine clouds that watch over them from above.
“Luffy!”
Zoro frantically leaps, managing to wrap an arm around Luffy’s waist in time before they come plunging down.
As soon as they emerge from the surface, Luffy vehemently coughs out the water he ingested. He weakly links his arms around Zoro’s neck, but his laugh remains as boisterous as ever.
“That was fun.”
“Was not.” Zoro barks. “Idiot. Did you forget you can’t swim?” He thrashes his legs underwater to keep them upright, while he hooks his arms under Luffy’s knees to hike him up.
Luffy mounts and wraps his legs around Zoro, thankful at the gesture. He leans his entire weight forward and rests his head on Zoro’s shoulder; the space between them close enough that he gets a whiff of booze. “Shishishi I only forget when Zoro’s here.”
Zoro’s eye widen by a fraction, clearly not expecting the reply. He then shakes his head in retribution and sighs, muttering an “I can’t believe you” under his breath.
Swimming is fun (if he ignores the fact it’s less of swimming and is actually more like floating). Zoro threads the water with ease, and it’s at that point where Luffy realizes Zoro willingly left his swords— his own prized possessions, just to come to his rescue. Luffy trails his hand down Zoro’s neck, thoughtful.
“Oi! Luffy! Mosshead! What’s the commotion all about?”
A new voice interjects and draws their attention. They both whip their heads to the source, only to find the entire crew peering down below and waving at them just behind Sunny’s rails.
“Oh!” Though sluggish, Luffy still enthusiastically waves back. “Everyone is here!”
“Luffy! Zoro! Are you okay?”
“What were you guys doing? We take our eyes off you for a while and you already managed to drown yourselves?!”
They’re as loud as ever. Luffy smiles and shouts back. “I didn’t drown!”
“He did.” Zoro objects. “And it’s not my fault!”
“Technically, it is. Isn’t it your job to keep Luffy at bay?”
Luffy hears a chorus of replies from his nakama. The voices drown in his ears as they bickered and nagged and teased, but he can’t bring himself to care. They’re all here, and that’s all that really matters. A giddy laugh erupts out of him.
“Well, come join us soon, Luffy!” Sanji draws on his cigarette and calls out to him after some time. “I’m preparing snacks.”
Luffy instantly brightens. “Got it!”
He takes watch of their retreating figures afterwards. They’re probably going to flock around the kitchen to wait Sanji’s preparations.
Soon enough, he’s once again left alone with Zoro and the amplified drumming in his chest.
“Did it stop?”
He turns to look at Zoro, who’s now looking at him with a raised brow. His skin is honeyed from being kissed by the sun, and he wears a boyish grin on his face as he holds Luffy close. It suits him.
Luffy grants him a radiant smile and truthfully replies, “nope!”
“Funny,” Zoro snickers. He gingerly unclasps Luffy’s right hand around his neck and tentatively brings it to his chest. Luffy’s eyes widen in realization as Zoro says, “mine too.”
The Sun himself laughs, breathless and loud until it rings inside his little Kingdom and envelops them in warmth; until it conquers uncharted territories and announces his presence. It’s a laugh that befits an Emperor of the Sea.
He doesn’t care though, because as he earnestly presses his hand against Zoro’s chest again, he feels a familiar rhythm.
“Zoro! We match!!!”