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Zoro calls Sanji at three in the morning, using a den den mushi the cook thought had been destroyed during Wano’s fight.
“Is this a prank?” He asked, wine of glass in one hand, cigarette in another, pretending as always that he really wanted a drink (he can’t sleep). “Marimo, is this a prank?” He repeats after no answer. Is there such a thing as butt dialing with a den den mushi?
“Zoro” came the response, a deep and lazy voice that seemed too tired.
“What.”
“Call me Zoro.” The voice insisted.
“Okay,” Sanji rested his glass on the counter. “should I call Chopper? Did you hit your head while climbing down the crows nest…”
“I died at Wano.” The voice interrupted.
Sanji kept the silence the sentence required. Couldn’t argue with that, he supposed. He had, indeed lost Zoro’s voice for a second at Wano, but only for a second…
“I’m going over the…”
“The frustrating part is that the whole point of being at the top, of being the best, is that you can die before the inevitable fall. Death, as dishonorable as it can be, will spare you of the humiliation of being defeated.”
Sanji is stunned, half body out of the galley, hands in the door frame, not quite following, not quite believing Zoro is actually talking to him. It felt cold and harsh, like salt in a wound. Did Zoro wanted to die? Was he having a meltdown all alone in the crowd’s nest while he was supposing to keep watch?
“Now I can’t have it.” His voice faltered. “Because of you.” He whispered, a confession only to Sanji. “I fought death itself to carve my way out of hell to free you from your own destiny.” Sanji held his breath, eyes wide in the direction of the sky, a faint yellow glow illuminating the darkness of the sea, like someone was also basking in the solitude. “I told him, I screamed at his face that he couldn’t take, that I had one last person to save.”
“Shut up.” It escaped from Sanji’s mouth, but it wasn’t enough.
“I promised him that he could collect my soul after I saved yours, what a fucking joke.” Zoro spat and Sanji felt like a slap to his face. Hands now shaking, cigarette burning his fingers, but he didn’t care. “I promised him to fulfill this death pact and now I can’t die, Sanji.” The name was worse than the words. “I can’t die because I can’t kill you. And you can’t die because I can’t kill you. What the fuck, Sanji.” Bottles clinked form the other side of the line, he was drunk, that explained a lot. “He haunts me at night, whispering in my ears, I haven’t slept since we left Wano.”
“Zoro, I…”
“We are immortals, forever doomed with a guillotine over our heads! You can only die by my hands, my bare hands like a fucking promised you like a fucking idiot! How… How can I do it… How, Sanji. Tell me why you did this to me?”
The line clicked, the den den mushi in his hands falling asleep, it was only when Sanji was able to breath that he felt his things stinging.
His face was wet.
But it was probably the breeze.