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When Zoro agreed to be blondie’s unpaid and frankly glorified babysitter, he was under the impression that there wouldn’t be any detours.
It’s not his fault that Johnny and Yosaku chickened out on their deal. It’s not his fault he had to climb the tower to escape the royal guard. And it was definitely not his fault that a certain long haired blonde recluse with a frying pan and a rat thought it would be a great idea to get the runaway bandit demon as his own personal tour guide. If it weren’t for the crown, he’d ditch this guy faster than he could blink.
But of course, life doesn’t ever go in the direction he intends for it. Somehow the compass points him anywhere but north. And now he’s stuck here, dangling from a hook in a seedy looking bar, watching in abject misery as Sanji befriends all the patrons with a sunny smile.
“That’s impossible!” One of the patrons said in response to Sanji. His teeth were all crooked and one of his eyes was hidden behind an eyepatch. He spat into his empty tankard, the sound of it echoing all the way up to Zoro’s ears from across the room. “There’s no bloody way that there’s an ocean out there like that!”
“But it’s true! I read it in all my books!” Sanji climbs on top of the table, his balance a little wobbly, brandishing his little frying pan like it’s a makeshift pointer. “It’s a vast ocean where all the Blues come together. You think you know good food here in the East Blue? Wait until you taste what’s in store at the All Blue. There’s sea creatures there that you’ve never seen before!”
Sanji’s eyes are shining even in the dim light of the tavern. Zoro, at one point, was taken off the hook, and he walked up to the excitable rambling blonde with a drink in his hands. He really wants to get out of here and get moving. But he knows that as soon as Sanji starts about the All Blue, he knows he’s stuck here for at least another hour. Zoro tries his best to relax in the meantime.
“Zoro!” Sanji spots him and sits down on the table, long legs dangling in the air. Chuuji runs up Sanji’s arm, a new chunk of cheese grasped in its tiny little rat paws. Sanji giggles, tickling Chuuji beneath his chin, turning to Zoro with a curious look in his eye. “Perfect timing!”
“Looked like I was interrupting something, though.” Zoro takes a swig from his tankard and Sanji rolls his eyes.
“All my lovely new friends and I here were discussing our dreams,” Sanji sighs, his eyes glazing over as he thought about his own dream again. Zoro tries his best not to stare too long at him. He’s grateful the dim lighting of the tavern hides his complexion well in the shadows. Sanji leans forward, once again reminding Zoro that this man has no concept of personal space. “What’s yours?”
“Be serious, swirly brow.” Zoro scoffs. “Bandits and Bounty Hunters ain’t meant to dream. We survive and try not to die every day.”
Sanji’s smile falters a bit, his shoulders slumping forward. The other patrons of the bar turn their eyes all on him and glare at Zoro menacingly. Zoro has no idea how it’s done, or if he’s just hallucinating it all, but within a span of less than an hour, Sanji seems to have wrapped every single person in this bar around his little finger. All because he keeps talking about his dream.
And if Zoro was being completely honest with himself?
He kind of understands.
Though the crown currently in Sanji’s bag is his main priority, Zoro couldn’t find it in himself to crush someone’s spirit just because he was being selfish. He found Sanji in a near inescapable tower, for fuck’s sake. And judging by the way he reacted to the grass, the dirt, the water from the ponds, and even to the way the wind blew through the trees — he’s been stuck in that tower all his life.
Zoro is well acquainted with being alone. He’s been alone most of his life. From growing up in the orphanage to losing his one childhood friend to getting lost on his way back home. Everything that he’s been through, all the bullshit that he’s suffered, he had to live with it by himself.
There were adults sometimes. Kuina’s father treated him sometimes like his own son but the grief of losing her made him ill-equipped to truly care for another child. And Mihawke was merely a sponsor — someone who took pity on an orphan boy and paid for his education. He’s indebted to him but there was never true companionship. No family he could ever go back to.
So when Sanji asked him to take him to the festival of lights, to the kingdom that held the one map that led to the All Blue, there was no part in Zoro that ever wanted to say no to him. Not even once. This man, whose hair had grown nearly 70 feet long, wore no shoes, and only had a mouse to talk to most days of his life, was filled with an endless bounty of hope. He was shining light despite the darkness he lives in. He was the rainbow after the harshest storm.
And Zoro, perhaps selfishly, wanted to bask in that sunlight for a little while.
“I haven’t been allowed to dream,” He clarifies, a vulnerability in his tone that Sanji is surprised to see, from the way he perks up a bit and tilts his head. Zoro tries to offer a smile. It probably comes out more as a grimace. But witnesses won’t ever say he didn’t at least try. “I’ve been on the run for most of my life. If anything, my dream is a silly child’s fantasy.”
“A child’s fantasy is pure ,” Sanji points out, his smile sympathetic and genuine. Zoro isn’t used to people looking at him like that. “There’s no dream more meaningful than one that you’ve had since you were a kid.”
“How would you know that?”
Sanji’s smile turns weary. Zoro’s heart suddenly hurts. “Because my dream is what kept me alive.”
“Do I have to keep this on, papa?” The mask that clamps around his head is cold and smells of rust and liquor. His head already feels heavier with it on. The lock clicks like it usually does and he stares up at Judge, who gives him a sickeningly sweet smile as he puts away the key.
“It’s to protect you, Sanji.” Judge gets down on one knee, still with a smile that is far too unsettling to be genuine. But Sanji, at the age of seven, doesn’t know the difference. He thinks that’s how all fathers are supposed to smile at their sons. He thinks that this tower is how all loving daddies protect their children.
Because Judge loves him. He knows he does.
“Your hair is precious and it can be used for evil when it’s in the wrong hands.” Judge gently strokes the sliver of golden hair that peeks out from beneath the iron mask. Sanji can’t make out his face anymore due to his limited vision. “As long as you stay in this tower, nothing can harm you. I’m the only one you can trust.”
“As long as I stay here, can I one day have the mask off? If I’m good?” Sanji rarely asks Judge for anything, grateful that he is even for a crumb of affection. Sanji wrings his hands nervously, hoping that he didn’t ask for too much. He doesn’t like being called selfish. But the mask is hard to keep on at night. He doesn’t think he’ll ever get used to it no matter how many night time routines they have.
“Of course, flower.” Judge finally says and the pet name has Sanji lighting up in joy. He doesn’t see the sneer of disdain on his father’s face when he turns away to leave him.
“As long as you’re good.”
“I finally got the mask taken off for good on my tenth birthday,” Sanji recalls the memory like it was as mundane as the weather. Zoro tries his best not to look too horrified. But it must have shown on his face because Sanji tried to shrink in on himself as they walked. They left the tavern a couple hours ago, Zoro figuring that they should take the scenic route to the kingdom center.
“Why’re you looking at me like that, mosshead?”
“I’ve had a shitty childhood,” Zoro replies, stopping to lean against a tree and catch his bearings. “But even I know that that’s not how a father is supposed to treat his son.”
“He was trying to protect me…” Sanji protests, but even that argument feels weak when said out loud. Chuuji nuzzles into Sanji’s cheek to comfort him. “I wish he let me outside more, though.”
“He shouldn’t have locked you up there, period.”
“Well, I’m outside now! That counts for something!”
“Yeah, because you had to escape.” Zoro looks at Sanji with a mixture of pity and incredulity. Something in Zoro’s heart pinched at the conflicted look on Sanji’s face. On one hand, this is a boy who has known no other forms of love besides the one his supposed father gave him. Which included locking him up in a tower for 19 whole years with only occasional visits and a no-hair-cutting policy.
On the other hand, this boy still came out of such an experience with an innocent trust in the people of this world. He kicks like a mule and swears up a storm but he is so unbelievably kind and nurturing. Zoro only wishes to be half the man Sanji is after all he’s been through.
“There’s a reason,” Sanji starts, fingers cautiously combing through his hair. “There’s a reason that I grow my hair out.”
“It’s not just a fashion statement?”
“ Fuck you.” But there’s no vitriol in Sanji’s words. Just nerves. Zoro eyes him warily as he slowly approaches him while gathering a good bundle of his own hair. “Can we try something?”
Sanji hesitates for a second but then ultimately reaches out for Zoro’s hand. One of the bandits gave him a nasty cut in his palm before they left the tavern, something about an eye for an eye, leaving Zoro with a haphazardly bandaged hand. Zoro doesn’t move to take his hand back, just watches as Sanji unwraps the stained bandages, hissing as the fresh cut meets cool air.
“Promise me you won’t laugh.”
“Kinda hard to find an open wound particularly hilarious.”
“Do you want me to fix it or not?” Sanji retorts, an irritated pout on his lips.
“How?” Zoro asks, gesturing with his other hand to the forest around them. “Is mother nature calling you to do a civic duty right now?”
Sanji decides at that moment to just ignore Zoro. He’s just about to tease him again when Sanji starts wrapping Zoro’s hand… with his hair.
“Uh, curls?” Zoro says warily, watching with a skeptical eye as Sanji continues to wrap his hand with his hair. “I don’t think that’s sanitary–”
“Just,” Sanji sighs, his expression a little tired. He glances up at Zoro, pleading wordlessly for him to shut the fuck up. “Watch, okay?”
Zoro decides to indulge him, making a mental note to disinfect his hand once the little party trick inevitably fails. However, his plans get chucked out the window immediately. Because Sanji opens his mouth and starts to sing — an enchanting melody that has Zoro’s heart beating faster at the sound. The words are simple, the kind a child would read in storybooks and fairytales.
But then Sanji’s hair starts to glow.
“Wh-” but Zoro can’t even finish his thoughts. His hair gleams a dazzling golden light, illuminating each strand with a soft but resplendent shine. Sanji continues to sing and Zoro nearly falls into a trance. Zoro’s never heard anything more beautiful.
Then all too soon, Sanji’s singing stops and the glowing strands fade back into Sanji’s usual hair color. It takes a couple of seconds for Zoro to realize he’s still staring intently at Sanji’s face until he hears an awkward cough.
“Check your hand,” Sanji says, starting to unwrap his hair from around Zoro’s hand.
“What did you–” and once again his sentence dies in his throat at the sight of his now completely uninjured hand . The appropriate reaction probably would have been to scream. Maybe point at the offending area with disbelief. But instead, he just turns to Sanji, hand almost reaching out to touch his hair but then he stops himself halfway. It falls limply onto his lap. “Does it hurt?”
Sanji blinks. “What?”
“When you do that,” Zoro gestures vaguely at Sanji’s long train of blonde hair. Chuuji pops out from beneath a bundle on the forest floor, squeaking happily. “Does it hurt?”
“I-It doesn’t, no.” Sanji says, combing his hair out again with his fingers. A habit Zoro can now identify as something he does when he’s shy. “No one’s ever asked me if it hurts. It just… happens. ” Then Sanji looks up at him, his expression serious. “This is why I’ve been in that tower. If someone I don’t trust finds out I have this power, and how to activate it, it can be used for sinister things.”
“But you,” Sanji falters a bit, biting his lip. “I think I can trust you.”
He really shouldn’t. No one in their right mind should trust a bandit and a bounty hunter. But Zoro’s always been a little rebellious, a little too soft-hearted for the little guy when they needed his help, and way too fucking sentimental to ever survive the harsh realities of this world.
And yet, here Sanji is, a man who’s experienced a broken abusive love and came out of it with an even deeper love for the world, and Zoro understands why Sanji believes he knows who to trust.
Zoro, against all odds, wants to be that person Sanji can trust.
“Let’s get you to see those lights,” Zoro takes Sanji’s hand in his now uninjured one. Sanji’s eyes widen at the touch but he doesn’t let go. Zoro squeezes once, the barest hint of a smile on his lips. “Then after that, we’ll find the All Blue together.”
And in that moment, basking in the aureate glow of Sanji’s smile, Zoro finds his new dream.