Chapter Text
Zoro reaches his side within seconds after the battle concludes. His movements are rushed, expression nearly concerned—but guess that’s what the blonde gets for sitting slumped over on the sand, unmoving, simply staring into the space before him. Not like he can help it, though. Not at the moment. His brain feels like a mash of pink, rather than a functioning organ.
There’s a bush of green beside him now, right at his eye level. Sanji barely perceives it; focusing on anything seems like too much of a chore. Instead, he allows himself to be touched, manoeuvred… Lets his head be tilted up, for the latter to see his blank expression better. His eyes are open, yet unseeing—something the other man surely realises rather quickly. Fingers snapping in front of his face and a voice audible in his ears are still not enough to earn his reaction. If he’s aware of anything currently happening around him, it must be on a very subconscious level, buried deep within the folds of his mind.
Patience isn’t an easily restorable resource for the Swordsman, especially in such dire circumstances. He’s just witnessed the blow that reached the Cook, a well-aimed one at that. It looked bad enough from the distance for Zoro to break into a sprint and knock out the attacker, before landing by his crewmate’s feet while cursing profusely under his breath.
“Oi, Cook!” The Swordsman exclaims clearly, upon not receiving any response yet. “Curly, do you hear me?”
The hazy gaze finally appears to sharpen, ever so slightly. Unless it’s just the greenhead’s imagination playing tricks on him. Either way, he takes the chance, hoping he’s not wrong on this one.
“Look at me,” he commands, trying to force his voice to sound as calm as the situation allows. “I need you to do something for me.” His hand carefully pushes the blonde locks off of the latter’s forehead, making sure both of his eyes are uncovered and looking.
Zoro thinks it a small victory when he catches a small jerky nod.
“Tell me, do you know what your name is?” he asks after a moment, gaze searching to make contact with the Cook’s.
A moment of complete silence passes, during which Sanji’s eyebrows raise in an obvious sign of confusion. He uses all of his energy to make out some kind of understandable train of thought. He thinks, proceeding to remember.
“S—” he pauses abruptly, as if unsure. “Sanji,” he then adds, slightly more confident in his response.
The Swordsman slowly nods. He doesn’t like how long it’s taken the latter to figure out the correct answer but at the very least he got one. Which should be a success in and by itself.
“How old are you?” He tries again.
Unfortunately, this time the Cook just stares at him blankly, unable to recall. His gaze shifts to the sand, then to the side. At some point, he closes his eyes tightly, then opens them again. His face turns a bit more pale, if possible.
“‘M dizzy…” Sanji slurs out after a while, as his breath hitches.
Zoro grimaces, by now confident in his assumption that the other man’s got himself a concussion. He sighs, trying to establish what the next course of action should be. Looking around, he spots the masts of Sunny. In that case, the distance separating them from the ship isn’t at all tragic.
“Your head hurts?”
“Y— Yes,” the Cook nods miserably and the sheer fact that he willingly admits to being in pain has already all the alarm bells setting off in Zoro’s brain.
Standing up, the Swordsman takes one last look at the gap they have to somehow conquer.
“Let’s get you back to the ship.”
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Chopper yells at them both as soon as they reach the infirmary, however, quiets down quicker than usual upon noticing the bloody wound decorating Sanji’s head. From there, it doesn’t take long before the Cook is settled on the bed and carefully examined, while Zoro can do nothing but simply stand on the side and watch. He makes sure not to be in the Doctor’s way, as the feeling of urgency blossoms in his chest.
The reindeer asks similar questions, which confirms for the greenhead that immediately checking on Sanji’s awareness was the right call. Struggling, the Cook manages to figure out the date and where he is but when Chopper asks him about what happened, he shuts up entirely.
“I’ll need to monitor him for the next seventy-two hours,” the Doctor eventually informs Zoro, his big worried eyes making contact with those dark orbs of Swordsman’s. “I took care of the head injury but he’s definitely concussed.”
Zoro nods, briefly glancing at the blonde who’s sat curled up on the mattress, still very obviously confused. He’s about to reply, offer help. At the moment, he’d be more than willing to just sit with the Cook and watch him, even for his own peace of mind. But before he can even open his mouth, something happens. A thing that catches him completely off guard.
Sanji bursts into tears.
And the Swordsman gapes.
Upon seeing Zoro’s reaction and hearing the sounds behind his back, Chopper turns to look at the Cook. He frowns a little but doesn’t seem even remotely surprised.
“Yeah, this might happen every now and then,” he explains softly, loudly enough for Sanji to hear, even though he doesn’t think the man will listen to or absorb any information. “It’s one of the common symptoms,” his eyes find Zoro again. “He doesn’t even know why he’s crying.”
It takes a second or two but the Swordsman comes back to his senses, at last. It’s not like he’s never seen the blonde cry before but this one was sudden enough to momentarily throw him off balance. He observes the Cook, watching him hide his face in his pale hands, shoulders shaking with silent sobs.
Exhaling slowly, Zoro acknowledges Chopper’s words with a calm hum.
“So, puttin’ him under supervision for the next three days?” He ensures that he understands correctly.
“Yes.”
The Swordsman walks over the bed, his eyes never leaving Sanji’s hunched silhouette. He flops down onto the nearby chair, then reaches to gently touch the other man’s knee. He sighs.
“I’ll stay.”