Archive of Our Own ^beta

High Stakes

“Listen carefully – because I’m only explaining this once, and it gets very expensive if you don’t.”

Nami stood at the head of the table in the dining area of the galley. On the table itself, weighed down by map stones, was a preliminary sketch of the small island, the harbor, and the entrance to the casino. 

The Straw Hats filled the galley, gathered by Nami once they’d anchored on the far outskirts of the harbor. Luffy sat at one end of the table, steadily feeding himself from the plate of nachos in front of him, more meat than anything else. Usopp, beside him, had claimed his peppers, and Zoro quietly offered his own from his seat in the center. Robin sat closest to Nami and the map on that side of the table, posture composed, gaze tracing the sketch. Across from them, Chopper and Brook filled two of the remaining three seats, working on their own nachos.  Franky sat at the breakfast bar, while Jinbe sat on the green couch. Sanji moved about in the kitchen, readying another plate for when Luffy’s ran out. 

“We are here for two reasons: money and information,” Nami said once she was sure she had their attention. “Gerd knew about this place from her Buggy’s Delivery days and she thought we might find out who the man with the scar is here.”

Gildreef Island was known by reputation as a place where money changed hands quickly and information changed owners even more so. It sat on a logpose route without appearing on most maps, a neutral ground maintained by mutual interest rather than trust. The casino at its heart provided cover, while the real business moved through side rooms and polite conversations.

The casino itself wasn’t on the island at all. It sat beneath it, anchored to the reef by a reinforced column that housed the elevator shaft. Close enough that guests could stay in one of the island’s many inns, deep enough that the ocean pressed constantly against the walls. The undersea view was part of the appeal.

“Gerd didn’t know how much information cost, but it’s probably not cheap,” Nami went on. She flashed a wicked grin. “So we’re going to get the broker to pay for it himself.”

“We’re not going to gamble?” Jinbe asked curiously.

“Nope. Gambling’s too risky.” Nami shook her head. “We could lose more than we win, even if we have eyes on the players’ hands.” She flicked a glance at Robin, who inclined her head slightly. “But I will bet the broker collects payment somewhere inside the casino. Physical payment. That’s what we’re taking.”

“That sounds riskier than gambling,” Usopp said.

“Only if people don’t do what they’re supposed to do.” Nami pointed at Luffy. “Which means no punching anyone and no destroying the casino.”

Luffy grinned around a mouthful of nachos. “I can follow a plan.”

Nine Straw Hats gave Luffy a look.

“Shishishi.”

Nami turned back to her map. “The plan is going to be twofold. Robin, Franky, Brook, Sanji-kun – and, unfortunately, Luffy – you’re on the theft team. Jinbe and I will handle the information side. Usopp and Chopper, you’ll be on surveillance in the Shark Submersible. The casino’s mostly glass, so we can use eyes on the outside. We won’t need anyone to stay with the ship due to the nature of this island, so everyone has a job to do.”

“What do your plans entail?” Robin asked.

Nami tapped her map. “I don’t know the layout of the casino, so we’ll need that information first. Sanji-kun–”

Sanji spun in a circle with hearts in his eyes. “Yes, sweet Nami-swan?!”

“Get yourself a staff uniform and access to the staff only sections of the casino,” Nami told him, ignoring his antics. “We’ll also need to find a place for Robin and Brook to work unimpeded.”

She turned to them. “You two will use your abilities to locate where the broker keeps payments and anything else that looks useful.”

“I will happily do as you say,” Brook began. “In return, may I see your–”

Nami decked him before he could finish. “Franky, you and Luffy will hang back for half an hour before joining Jinbe and me in the casino. We might need one of your gadgets or Luffy’s reach to access something. You’re also on Luffy duty.”

“No worries, Nami-sis. I’ll pack my fridge compartment with extra cola and meat,” Franky said. 

Luffy perked up. “Mwea?”

“Usopp, you and Chopper are going to help out that team from the outside, telling them what you see, keeping an eye on movement if you can,” Nami said.

“My eyes will see all and know all,” Usopp declared.

“Meanwhile, Jinbe and I will be in the casino,” Nami continued. “Jinbe, I want you to find out how the deals go down, where they take place, how money changes hands, and what type of information is being bought and sold.”

Jinbe inclined his head. “I will do my best.”

“I’ll make contact with the broker directly,” Nami said. “Find out what he wants, if he actually knows anything, and how much we’ll need. Once we know all we can, we’ll put the theft in motion, meet with the broker, pay him with his own money, and then leave before Luffy does something stupid.”

Luffy glanced up from licking his plate and grinned unrepentantly. “Sanji, more food!”

Sanji picked up the fresh plate of nachos and brought it to the table. “Your plan is amazing, Nami-swan. You are as brilliant as you are beautiful.”

Nami beamed. “I am, aren’t I?”

“What about me?” Zoro spoke up, a slight furrow to his brow. “You said no one’s staying behind to guard the ship. What do you want me to do?”

“Oh. Zoro.” Nami blinked, genuinely startled. She had, somehow, missed him.

She frowned, thinking fast. He wasn’t wrong – she’d said no one was staying behind. She ran through options, dismissed most of them just as quickly. Finally, she waved a hand toward her own side of the table. “You can… be my escort. Or bodyguard,” she said. “Stand there and look intimidating.”

Zoro held her gaze for a moment longer than necessary, something tightening briefly in his expression, then nodded once. “Alright.”

Nami clapped her hands once, sharp and final. “Okay. Everyone understand what the plan is and what we’re doing?”

Around the galley, there were nods and muttered confirmations, a low rise of excitement, the clink of finishing dishes. Good enough.

Sanji left first, followed by Usopp and Chopper in the Shark Submersible. They all were given tiny den den dials of Usopp’s invention – itty, bitty snails that attached to a dial that tucked behind an ear. They had a limited range and open communication, which didn’t work well for them a majority of the time. Now, they were perfect. 

Robin and Brook went down to the casino next, after giving Sanji a good hour to attain his cover. Meanwhile, Nami manhandled Luffy into appropriate clothing and forced Franky to put on pants. “We want to blend in as best we can,” Nami quelled the argument with a sharp look. “You two are going to hang out by whatever side window you want and not get into trouble.”

Franky threw his arms into a star pose. “We will be SUPER discreet.”

“Do I need to change?” Zoro asked, from where he leaned against the support post in the men’s quarters.

Nami hid the fact that she’d forgotten about him again. She flicked her eyes over his attire – the usual unbuttoned long coat, red sash, green haramaki, black trousers and boots. She shook her head. “No, you’re fine. You’re just muscle. No one’s going to pay attention to you.”

Zoro’s lips thinned before he pushed off the pillar. “I’ll be up in the crow’s nest if you need me,” he said, then left.

Nami wondered about that look, but then got distracted by Franky trying to pair a fuchsia print shirt with orange pants and went back to dressing the disasters in front of her.

“This is the great and powerful Usopp, calling from a shark’s eye view of the casino,” Usopp’s voice came over the den den earpiece. “I would like to report that there are two sections to the casino – the casino itself and some sort of multi-unit living quarters – and that no one believes in curtains down here. I will have to wash my eyes out with bleach after we’re done.”

“No, don’t do that!” Chopper piped in immediately. “Bleach causes severe chemical burns to the cornea, irreversible vision damage, and permanent blindness!”

“Thank you for the warning,” Nami said dryly into her own earpiece. “Please refrain from self-blinding until the job is finished.”

“No promises,” Usopp said. “How can people live like this? There is no privacy down here.”

“They’re underwater, Usopp,” Nami said. “Who exactly do you think they’re hiding from? Peeping fish?”

“Yes!” Usopp said immediately. “You laugh, but I once heard about a whole school of perverts – giant, glass-eyed things with telescoping pupils. They drift up real slow, pretend they’re part of the scenery, and then – bam – trauma for life.”

“Wah! A school of perverts!” Chopper wailed. “Do you think they’re going to look in here?”

“Usopp, mark the boundaries between the casino floor and the living quarters,” Nami instructed. “I want to know which doors get regular traffic and which ones don’t, and where the most likely place meetings are held, if you can find it.”

“Aye aye,” Usopp said, sounding relieved to have something productive to focus on. “There’s a cluster near the residence ring that barely gets any movement. Fancy doors. Guards, but bored ones.”

Nami nodded to herself. “Noted. We’ll have Brook or Robin check it out once they’re in place.”

“We are secure, Nami,” Robin’s voice came quietly into her ear. “Sanji has located us a storage room near the kitchen. We have just finished adjusting boxes so that we will not be easily discovered.”

“If we do, we are prepared to pretend we are in the throes of passion!” Brook chimed in. “I may even get more than a glimpse of panties, yohoho!”

“If you lay a hand on her, asshole, you’ll be boiled into broth,” Sanji spat over the earpiece. 

“Sanji-kun, what have you seen so far?” Nami asked.

“The casino is ring-shaped, windows on all sides,” Sanji reported. “The staff area includes a kitchen, storage, locker room, and the casino security office. They don’t use chips, so there’s no bank. Bets are placed with beli on the tables. I’ve seen security with carts move money from the tables to the back, where it’s dropped down a chute, presumably into a counting room. I’ll see if I can find access downstairs and take a look.”

“Remember, we’re not after the casino money,” Nami said. “We’re after the broker’s. It might be less guarded, which is why I focused on it to begin with.”

“Want me to see if I can access that other wing?”

“No, hold off. Let’s find out what Robin and Brook see first.”

“We’re on it, Nami-san!” Brook said.

Nami let out a slow breath through her nose. Information was coming in. The pieces were starting to fit. If all went well, in a few hours they’d have the information they needed and, hopefully, be richer for it. 

Sanji slipped into the casino with a tray in his hand and a borrowed jacket on his shoulders.

The floor curved in a broad oval, glass walls bowing outward to the sea. Thick panels held the water back. Light filtered through in slow bands, along the curved floor and threaded through the ceiling. Tables filled the center in clean arcs. Beli struck wood and metal with soft, constant sound. The air carried salt through machinery, perfume layered over smoke, heat drifting in from the kitchens.

He moved between tables without stopping long enough to be remembered. Empty glasses off. Full ones down. Smiles acknowledged, not returned. 

With his tray full of empties, he returned through the staff corridor to the back. Warm light gave way to utility lamps. Polished surfaces ended. Metal panels bore the marks of carts and boots. The kitchen opened into storage. Storage opened into locker rooms. A small break room abutted the locker room. Security fronted the staff area, and Sanji caught a glimpse of monitors when the door opened. 

It didn’t take much for him to access the room. A stop by the locker room, a jacket switched into chef’s whites, a foray into the kitchen to prepare a tray of food. Then back into the server jacket, pick up the tray, and knock on the door. He had no idea if security ate during their shift, but he could work around it.

“One of the chef’s lost a bet, and you guys are the beneficiaries,” Sanji said, boldly pushing past the security officer who’d opened the door, using the tray as a lead. He set it down on a desk, eyes skimming over the monitors, seeing where was being watched. Casino floor, the corridor with the money chute, a stairwell leading down, a counting room and vault. They seemed to be monitoring the living quarters Usopp had mentioned, as well, but there were a lot less cameras. Mostly in the corridor from the casino and what appeared to be a back elevator. 

“Enjoy,” he said with a nod, noting the weapons of choice seemed to be clubs and swords. Made sense, considering they were underwater. One missed shot, and everyone would be swimming.

He left the security office, the door closing firmly shut behind him. He flicked his gaze up to the camera in the corner of the hall, then proceeded back toward the kitchen to retrieve another tray. 

He’d taken Robin and Brook into the staff area through a different corridor, one that led right to the locker room. He’d noted the camera in that hall, as well, but he’d taken care of that issue with a well placed carton on Brook’s shoulder and a pair of swiped staff jackets. The casino kept a stack of new ones in a box in a closet in the locker room. It made sense, considering staff on the casino floor needed to look presentable at all times. A spilled cocktail or mishap at the buffet would require a change. 

With a new tray he headed back out onto the casino floor, back to the service area of the bar to load up again. A woman brushed past him, all curves and confidence, hair catching the light, and Sanji stopped dead. “Hello, my angel!” he gushed, hearts forming in his eyes, body undulating into adoration. 

She laughed, already gone, perfume lingering in her wake.

Sanji inhaled, straightened, and recovered in one smooth motion, slipping back into work as he catalogued which guards lingered with staff and which kept their distance, which doors led to storage and which opened into quieter corridors, carpet thickening, sound dampened.

Robin had long since learned that most security did not rely on locks. It relied on expectation.

The undersea casino presented itself as transparent: glass walls, broad sightlines, lighting meant to reassure rather than conceal. It wanted its visitors to feel observed without feeling threatened, to trust that visibility equaled safety. That trust did more work than any guard.

Her Devil Fruit eyes opened and shut through the public levels at an unhurried pace, allowing herself to observe the flow of patrons drifting between tables and displays. In the casino, cameras were positioned openly, their housings polished, their presence part of the spectacle. As the corridors narrowed and the décor simplified, the surveillance grew less theatrical and more precise.

An eye bloomed beneath the lip of a buffet counter, angled outward. Another opened behind the seam of a decorative wall panel, positioned to monitor the threshold rather than the corridor itself. The casino’s attention favored entrances and intersections. Long stretches between them were observed, but without focus.

She adjusted her path accordingly.

The real interest lay beyond the gaming floors, in the areas that were neither fully public nor formally restricted. Diplomatic holding rooms sat between the casino proper and what passed for residential quarters in an undersea structure. Their doors lacked ornamentation, their guards lacked urgency, and their schedules appeared to follow habit rather than alertness.

Robin’s eye gazed outside the bubble of the window into the darkened sea. The reef was lit up only around the casino area, providing guests with a beautiful view of the fish and creatures that lived within it. 

She followed the staff routes next, watching how they moved, and who had access to where. Certain hallways emptied at predictable intervals. Others never fully cleared. A maintenance access panel sat flush against the wall near one such junction. It blended well enough that most people’s eyes passed over it. Robin’s did not.

Air cycled behind it. Pressure systems hummed in controlled intervals. Farther down the line, a valve clicked at regular spacing. The infrastructure of the casino ran through these channels whether the guests noticed or not.

She continued on, appearing on the knee of one of the guards she spotted walking through the corridor. The world shifted and moved as he did. She saw doors and more guards, spaced sporadically, but four remained in a specific hall outside a set of meeting rooms. 

She adjusted her route slightly, guiding toward a corridor that widened just enough to accommodate intersecting staff traffic. A camera sat recessed above the junction, its coverage broad but unfocused at the edges. She placed an eye within the molding behind it, observing the field of view.

Robin was considering switching to a seam on a window when Brook rejoined her.

“I explored the living area Usopp mentioned,” he said quietly. “Past the meeting rooms. There are permanent residences. Bedroom suites, small apartments. I believe one belongs to the broker himself. It contained a chest of considerable size with a lock.”

Robin glanced at him. “And the doors?”

“Coded keylocks on the individual spaces. A second keylock on the broker’s suite where the chest was located. I did not see any guards inside.”

She nodded. “I spotted a maintenance access panel in one of the corridors. Let us see how many more we can find and, more importantly, where they lead.”

Brook let out a small, pleased sound. “Yohoho. I shall put my eyes on these access points – even though I have no eyes, because I’m a skeleton!”

Robin’s lips curved into a faint smile. “Shall we, then?”

Usopp sat behind the red-lit, softly glowing control panel and guided the Shark Submersible toward the second elevator Sanji had mentioned. The submersible’s outer lights were off, and the reflective glass plus the red lighting would prevent anyone from discovering that they were anything more than a shark. 

They had to stay back from the casino, though, with the reef lit up for display. But between Usopp’s sniper goggles and Chopper’s binoculars, they had a clear view outside and inside the casino.

He’d mapped the casino when they’d first descended. The casino was made up of concentric rings, interlocking through clear tubes. It reminded Usopp of a hamster habitrail, only it was a single level rather than going up and down. The staff area’s ring was attached in two places to the casino ring. The residence ring branched to the east, with a smaller ring nestled between it and the casino. The structure had solid floors and ceilings, but windows made up the walls except in a few places, one of which was a subfloor beneath the staff ring, which Sanji had informed them must be where the casino money was kept.

Sanji had also told them about security’s weapons of choice: clubs and swords. 

“A stray bullet would cause the casino to implode, drowning everyone within, in under twenty seconds,” Robin had helpfully supplied. “The pressure differential would collapse lungs before most people realized they were inhaling water. Eardrums would rupture almost immediately. Disorientation would set in first, then loss of consciousness. Death would follow shortly after.”

There was a beat of silence, then Jinbe said, “I wouldn’t drown.”

Luffy’s laugh rang clearly over the earpiece. 

“I don’t see an elevator shaft,” Chopper said, peering through binoculars out the right eyeball of the Shark Submersible. “The ring seems to go right up to that rockface.”

“Maybe it’s built inside the rock,” Usopp surmised, guiding the craft closer. “Look for a corridor that leads to it.”

He liked being out here with Chopper. Like using his observation skills without the threat of imminent danger. Chopper also stocked his medical bag with pocky and chocolate covered raisins. 

“There it is!” Chopper pointed. “It’s not made of windows like the others.”

Usopp maneuvered to where Chopper indicated and, sure enough, he could see the round tunnel made of metal, coated in barnacles, lead from the residence ring to the side of the rockface. “Hidden escape route?” he posited.

“You think there’s more?” Chopper said. 

“If you were a broker of information, that means you know things you probably shouldn’t,” Usopp said. “The number of secrets I know means I’m in constant danger from the government.”

“Oh, no!” Chopper gasped “You’re in danger!”

Usopp nodded. “I am. And I always have multiple escape routes to evade capture.” He guided the submersible into a dive. “Let’s check for a dive hatch or moon pool hatch.”

Chopper was very excited.

He bounced on his hooves where he sat, binoculars braced against the window, tail flicking back and forth without permission. He liked plans. He liked being included in plans. He liked that this plan involved looking instead of running, and that Usopp was in charge of explaining everything, because Usopp told the best stories and always made complicated things sound heroic.

He’d brought snacks. Important ones. Pocky for quick energy. Chocolate-covered raisins packed with antioxidants and flavor. He’d told Usopp it was part of maintaining operational focus, which was true, even if Usopp had laughed and said Chopper was a genius and then immediately eaten half of them.

Chopper didn’t mind. He liked sharing. It made it feel like teamwork.

He leaned forward again, peering through the binoculars, adjusting them carefully the way he’d practiced. Inside the casino, people moved around, looking pretty in their dresses and suits. Outside, fish drifted past the glass, bright and slow. He watched both, switching focus back and forth, determined not to miss anything important.

“I see everything,” Chopper whispered to himself, clapping once and wiggling in place before catching himself and going still again. Focus.

He wanted to do this right. He wanted to help. He wanted to be useful, not just as a doctor, but as an observer. The best observer. The best All-Seeing Sidekick ever.

Chopper pressed the binoculars closer to his eyes and watched even harder.

Zoro followed Nami through the casino doors from the windowed corridor and was immediately assaulted by light and noise and a crowd of people – all things he disliked. 

The place was glass and light and money, the kind that wanted to be seen. Curved windows bowed along the outer wall, turning the reef into décor. Fish slid past the windows, their bodies catching the light as the reef pressed close to the glass. Everyone inside pretended they owned the room. Nobles, criminals, or both – it was hard to tell, because they were all dressed the same: smooth fabric, bright metals, smiles made to hide teeth.

Zoro hated that type of pretense. Politics and double tongues and putting on airs, when they were just the same as everyone else. He preferred people who acted like people, without apology. 

Jinbe came in beside them and paused long enough to take in the floor. He gave Nami a small nod, then he dovetailed away, calm as always, blending into the crowd with the ease of someone who could talk his way out of a net while already untying it.

Nami moved with purpose in a slinky black dress, high cut and low bodice, built to catch attention and make it feel like a privilege. She moved through bodies with the same confidence she used to move through storms, all angles and intent, a hand here, a smile there, looking like she was enjoying herself while she took inventory of the room.

Zoro stayed behind her. A silent escort. A grumpy ornament.

He saw the difference between him and the other bodyguards immediately. They hovered near their protectees like pieces of furniture that cost too much. Suits. Gloves. Clean boots. Even their weapons looked decorative, chosen to match cufflinks. He didn't look like he belonged in the room.

It made him feel self-conscious, something else he hated as much as pretense. He saw the glances, the disdain, as if he were a dirty stray someone let in on accident. His expression soured more, as his gaze settled firmly on Nami’s back so she wouldn’t disappear on him.

Sanji appeared at their elbow with a tray of drinks and empties. The server jacket – gold and blue – fit him neatly, as if it had been made for him. He was meant to be hired help, yet he matched the room more easily than Zoro did.

Of course, the ridiculous hearts in his eyes and his lolling tongue ruined it. 

“Mellorine! You look ravishing,” Sanji drooled.

“I know.” Nami dug her heel into Sanji’s foot. “Stop acting like an idiot.”

Zoro snorted. “Like that could ever happen.”

Sanji snapped out of his lust and glared at Zoro. “Real rich, coming from you.”

Nami cut them off before it escalated. “Did you find the broker, Sanji-kun?”

Sanji turned his attention back to her. “Table by the southeast door, which leads to those meeting rooms and the living quarters.”

She nodded, taking a drink from his tray. “Franky and Luffy will be down shortly. Try to keep an eye on them.” 

“Anything for you, dear Nami-swan.”

Zoro reached for a drink – alcohol would make this much more tolerable – but Sanji moved the tray out of grasp. “No booze for the bodyguard.”

Zoro’s gaze darkened, opening his mouth to bite back, but Nami spoke up. “He’s right. You’re not a guest. You’re just muscle.”

He ground his back molars, lips compressed in a thin line. Sanji caught it. His gaze lingered a beat longer than necessary before he broke away, returning to circulating with his tray.

Nami resumed working the room, stopping at tables to look over the stakes and the players before passing on. She spoke briefly to a dealer, leaned in to hear something from a patron, then shifted again. Zoro stayed a step behind her, adjusting when she did, halting when she paused. Most people ignored him. A few didn’t. He kept those faces in mind as they moved on.

Franky and Luffy appeared a minute later, drifting toward one of the curved windows. Luffy pressed close to the glass, eyes wide, as though the reef were performing for him. Franky planted himself beside him, too large to look subtle and too shameless to care.

“Look at that!” Luffy said, loud enough that at least three people pretended not to hear. His laugh crackled through the space. “Shishishi!”

Franky’s voice followed, bright in Zoro’s ear. “The reef is SUPER! Hey, look at that one!”

Nami headed for the table Sanji had indicated. The crowd thinned and reformed around it as she approached. It was obvious who the broker was from the way people deferred to him. He sat at ease, unbothered, accustomed to being accommodated.

The broker was a tall man in a dark jacket worn open over a white shirt. His hair was cut short and combed back with care, silver threaded through the darker strands. His face held strong lines at the brow and mouth.

He did not sit rigidly. He leaned back just enough to claim space, one arm resting where it suited him, posture loose without ever reading careless. His expression stayed neutral, but not empty. The eyes were alert, assessing, used to being obeyed without raising his voice. He looked like a man who understood leverage and preferred not to announce when he was applying it.

Nami slipped into an open seat with a smile. She tossed a line to the group, something light and charming, then laid down her first bet as if she had done it a thousand times in places like this. It was possible that she had, before joining the crew. Zoro took his position behind her and slightly to the side, resting his wrist on the hilts of his katanas. He was already bored, and not actually needed here. He should’ve kept his mouth shut instead of asking what his role was; he could’ve stayed on the ship, taken a nap, trained for a bit. 

But he had spoken up, because when Nami had gone through everyone’s parts yet skipped him completely, he’d felt a hollowness in his chest. It wasn’t the first time he’d been ignored like that, where if there wasn’t fighting or heavy lifting to be done, he didn’t exist. He knew he wasn’t the most talkative, preferred being by himself, but he thought he’d had more value to the crew than sword-wielding packhorse.

Lucci’s words swam in his memory: “You’re just a burden at this point.” 

Zoro shook it off. He watched the table instead. Watched the broker’s hands. Clean nails. Silver rings. He watched the broker watch Nami, then watched the people watching Nami. 

A voice crackled through the earpiece. Usopp, theatrical. “I would clean house in there, you know. Clean. House. But I can’t. It's a tragic situation. I have a rare, debilitating can’t-gamble-anymore disease.”

Chopper came in right after, wailing. “Can’t-gamble-anymore-disease?! Ahh! We need a doctor!”

Franky’s voice reverberated immediately. “You are the doctor.”

Nami kept playing. The broker spoke, and the people around him leaned in. Nothing was written down. Everything was said as though it could be taken back if spoken softly enough. Zoro listened without listening, letting it pass through him. 

Nami shifted in her chair, adjusting her posture. The dress caught the light. The table caught it too. Eyes followed. She was doing exactly what she had come to do. Zoro was doing exactly what he had come to do, too, standing like a useless lump. He caught sight of Sanji circulating and the tray of drinks. He should just go find the bar and stand like a lump over there, instead.

Then Nami murmured in his direction without turning. “Move a little. You’re blocking the view.”

Zoro used it as his excuse. He shifted into the crowd, weaving his way through the tables, the glamoured patrons, trying not to smack anyone with his swords. Noise and people pressed in on him. He could hear Franky and Luffy’s chatter through the earpiece, Chopper diagnosing Usopp, Brook and Robin’s quiet discussion about maintenance shafts. 

Before Zoro quite registered how it had happened, he found himself in a curved corridor, glass walls bowing around him on three sides. Beyond them, fish swam past slowly. He frowned and picked the direction that felt most likely to loop back toward the floor.

The hall led him toward a junction marked by discreet signage: guest bathrooms, elevator. Staff passed him without a second glance. He slowed, then followed the corridor farther than he meant to, telling himself it would curve back around.

It didn’t.

A door along the wall caught his eye only because it hadn’t before – a staff access panel that looked like part of the structure until it wasn’t. He hesitated, then pushed through without thinking too hard about it.

The change was immediate. The carpet giving way to ribbed flooring meant for traction. The air lost its perfume and picked up the clean, metallic smell of maintenance spaces. Sound dulled. Voices from the casino floor thinned into a distant, unfocused hum.

Zoro stopped and blinked.

He had no idea where he was.

He turned back the way he’d come, only to find the corridor behind him no longer matched his memory of it. A door sat where there shouldn’t have been one. A light panel had shifted position. Access plates replaced decoration.

Zoro picked the direction that felt correct.

It wasn’t.

He followed the corridor until it ended in what looked like a dead end. He would have turned back again if he hadn’t noticed the seam in the wall, the panel that didn’t quite sit right. He could see screws holding the panel in place. He debated on prying it open.

“Zoro… why are you in that corridor?” Usopp asked in his ear.

Zoro turned toward the window. The lighting outside prevented him from seeing beyond it, but he thought he’d spotted the nose of the Shark Submersible in the gloom. He motioned at the panel. “There’s a panel here, big enough to climb through. Should take me back to the casino.”

“Is the idiot lost again?” he heard Sanji say.

“I’m not lost,” Zoro growled.

“Uh, yeah, buddy, you are.” Usopp sounded a little condescending. “Don’t worry, the all-seeing Usopp will guide you.”

Zoro glared out the window, hoping Usopp saw his ire. He heard Usopp gulp before issuing directions.

Zoro followed them, turning when Usopp said – “Go left. Left! Your other left!” – and eventually came out near the gaming floor again, farther down than he expected. To his left, the reef window curved into view. Luffy was still there, nose practically to the glass. Franky stood beside him, exactly as before.

Sanji materialized at Zoro’s elbow. “Follow me, dumbass.”

“Shut up,” Zoro snapped, but followed anyway.

Sanji wound through the casino floor with deft ease, leading Zoro back to Nami at the broker’s table. Sanji offered drinks to the players, as if that’s why he’d appeared to begin with. Zoro took his spot again, folding his arms over his chest, annoyed and still without alcohol. 

Nami glanced up at him, eyes narrowing just enough to sell irritation for the table. “What took you so long?”

He kept his face flat. “Things moved.”

She turned back to the table as a few of the players looked between them, interest briefly piqued. “Don’t worry. He’s only decorative.”

A ripple of amusement went through the players. Zoro’s shoulders tensed. He lifted his gaze and caught the broker looking at him. Not with suspicion. Not with the guarded assessment of someone measuring a threat. The broker’s expression was mild. Interested. 

Zoro’s hand twitched toward his swords and stopped short. This was not that kind of threat. It didn’t smell like violence. It was attention. He told himself it was still a threat assessment. It had to be. A man like that did not look at him for any other reason. Zoro was rough in a room built on polish, a scar across a painting. Useful as a wall. Useful as muscle. Useful if someone needed something carried.

He stood there, scowl intact, letting the broker misread him if that was what the man wanted. He wished he had a drink.

Brook enjoyed storage rooms. They were overlooked, practical, and rarely dramatic. This one smelled faintly of cleaning solution and metal shelving, stacked with crates labeled for replacement parts and décor that no one would miss for days. He sat near the back, behind crates and boxes, listening to the building work through its systems. The electricity hummed. Pipes carried air. The sea pressed in from outside.

Robin sat on a crate, composed, eyes closed. “The maintenance tunnels reach all of them,” she said. “The broker’s suite, the meeting rooms, the residence corridors and staff rooms.”

Brook nodded. He had seen the same from another angle, drifting through in his soul form. “They connect more thoroughly than the public layout implies,” he agreed. He paused, then tilted his skull. “Didn’t Zoro just find an unwatched access panel?”

Robin opened her eyes. “He did.”

Usopp’s voice came through the earpiece at once, eager. “I didn’t see any cameras in that corridor. No security, either.”

“That panel will require a screwdriver,” Robin said. “Possibly more than one.”

Brook smiled. “Franky.”

“Franky,” Robin confirmed.

Brook tapped the side of his skull, considering. “At the far end, the rooms themselves will still need to be accessed.”

“The screws are for the corridor side only; inside the tunnel, the panel opens on quick-release latches for emergencies.” Robin tapped her finger lightly on her opposite elbow. “I believe Luffy and Sanji are capable enough to enter the tunnels, find the appropriate rooms, and abscond with the chests once Franky lets them in.”

Brook lifted a finger. “May I make a suggestion?”

Robin inclined her head.

“Luffy should take the other elevator on departure,” Brook said. “It is closer to the broker’s suite. Sanji could bring him the other chest, once he removes the appropriate amount Nami-san requires. This will avoid the main elevator and the questioning public.”

Robin considered that for a moment. “The camera.”

“Ah,” Brook said. “Yes. That will require a small adjustment.”

“Without being seen,” Robin added.

Brook chuckled under his breath. “Naturally. Luffy can reach it from a tunnel junction and nudge it out of alignment enough to pass. The corridor will read as empty. And if security notices, it will take them time to get there. By then, Luffy should be long gone. Especially if I am with him to prevent any detours.”

Robin considered this, then nodded. “A good idea. Our Captain does enjoy taking detours.”

Brook straightened, pleased. “Excellent. I do enjoy a well-considered outing.”

Usopp’s voice cut in again, louder now. “So that’s the plan? Franky opens the panel, Luffy, Brook, and Sanji go in, and nobody touches anything that explodes?”

“No guarantees,” Robin said with a small smile. 

Usopp groaned. “Don’t say things like that.”

Jinbe’s voice came through the earpiece with the calm of a man describing tide charts. “They don’t trade on the casino floor,” he said. “They trade in the meeting rooms between the casino and the residence.”

“That confirms what we observed,” Robin chimed in.

“The casino gives them neutrality,” Jinbe went on. “Money changes hands in briefcases, either beli, gold, or jewelry. They buy routes and access, who's docking where without announcing it. Which ships aren’t logged. Who’s meeting whom behind closed doors about what. Sometimes it’s confirmation that a man exists. Sometimes it’s where to look next.”

Nami kept her eyes on the felt as she listened. Her expression didn’t change. If anything, she let it smooth out, pleasant and unbothered, the face she wore when she wanted people to assume she was here for fun. “Mm,” she murmured, and tapped her finger on the table, indicating she wanted another card. 

“So he may have the information we’re looking for,” Franky said. “The man with the scar.”

“The possibility is strong,” Jinbe confirmed. “Or he may know how we can find it.”

That meant Nami was up. She needed to get the broker’s attention, get a meeting, and find out how much it would cost. 

The broker sat two seats to her right. She let her thigh press lightly against the edge of the chair as she settled, crossed her legs, and made sure the slit of her dress showed exactly as much as she wanted. The bodice dipped low enough to invite a look. A measured generosity. A promise that stayed just out of reach.

Zoro stood behind her left shoulder, arms folded, face carved into its usual scowl. He looked like he’d been dropped into the room by mistake, something she cursed herself for. The other bodyguards she’d noticed wore suits, hands folded politely at their waists, neat and cultured even if it were only meant for show. 

She should’ve taken the time to dress him up. Should have left him behind, really. He wasn’t needed, unless they got into a fight. And if they got into a fight, she might strangle Luffy. 

From her left, the earpiece crackled. Luffy’s voice, loud enough to be heard if anyone stood too close. “I’m starving!”

Nami’s smile didn’t change. Her eye twitched. She might strangle Luffy anyway.

Franky answered him with the patience of a man who had built a ship and then agreed to sail it with idiots. “Relax, bro. I’ve got jerky.”

“What kind?” Luffy demanded.

“The good kind.” Franky sounded proud. “From my storage belly.”

A pause. Then, with the wholehearted acceptance only Luffy could manage: “Okay!”

Nami exhaled through her nose, slowly, and tapped her cards into a neat stack again. 

“If you need help, I can totally clean house for you,” Usopp said quickly. “I mean, hypothetically. From a distance. Very responsibly.”

A man across the felt lost and exploded – cards thrown, chair kicked back, a string of profanity before he stalked away. Nami watched him go. “Why play blackjack with an attitude like that?”

The broker’s gaze slid to her. He took her in, head to heel, and smiled as though he approved of the package. “Some people like the certainty,” he said. His voice was smooth, tuned to rooms like this. “Twenty-one, and you win.”

“And if you don’t?” Nami tilted her head.

“Then you pay for the lesson.”

She laughed, low and flirty. “I learn quickly,” she said.

“Do you?” he asked, amused.

Nami let her lashes lower as she checked her cards. Eight and a six. Fourteen. The broker had a ten showing. Dealer’s upcard told a story if you knew how to listen. Nami’s thumb nudged her money into place. She hit.

A five. Nineteen.

She didn’t smile yet. She waited until the dealer’s next card turned up and the table collectively held its breath. The dealer pulled, pulled again, and busted. Nami gathered her winnings with lazy satisfaction.

“Looks like I’m paying you for the lesson,” the broker said, and the smile he offered was warm enough to be convincing.

Nami leaned in slightly, closing the distance the way women did when they wanted men to think it was their idea. “Oh?” she said. “I thought you said the house teaches.”

“The house teaches,” he corrected, eyes on her mouth. “I charge.”

“Mm.” Nami rolled one coin between her fingers, slowly, as if she’d never touched money without enjoying it. A truth. “What are your rates?”

The broker’s gaze flicked up, almost unconsciously – past her, over her shoulder.

To Zoro.

Nami kept her face pleasant. She didn’t look back. She had seen enough men to recognize the shift when it happened, when she was no longer the center of attention. She made a soft sound, half-laugh, half-acknowledgment, and leaned back. “You look like a man who doesn’t waste time,” she said. “So let’s not.”

His eyes returned to her, but not fully. “Go on.”

“I have something I want,” Nami said casually. “And you have something you want.”

She watched as his eyes drifted to Zoro again. “Indeed.”

Nami followed his gaze this time. Her eyes flicked back to his, sharp and assessing. “Ah,” she said quietly. She leaned back in her chair and crossed her legs, considering him openly now. “That’s what you’re negotiating for.”

The broker smiled. “It’s what you brought.”

“I want a name,” she continued, tone light but precise. “Someone who knows who the man with the scar on the black ship is. You’re telling me you’re willing to trade for… him.”

The broker’s smile grew sharper. “He’s only decoration, is he not? He’d look very good in my room.”

“Nami-san, what are you doing?” Sanji’s voice came quietly in her ear.

What was she doing? Selling Zoro for a name? That was wrong on all levels and made her feel sick to her stomach. She glanced back at Zoro, expression pinched. She needed to get out of this, get the broker to accept money instead. 

Zoro looked directly at her, gaze flat and unreadable. Then, he said, “I’ll do it.”

Several voices exploded in her ear – shocked, questioning, wondering if Zoro knew what was actually being asked of him. Nami tuned them out, kept her eyes on Zoro. He stared stubbornly back. 

She closed off her heart, pulled in the sudden desire to whisk Zoro out of there, and turned back to the broker. “It appears we have a deal.”

Zoro did not look at Nami again.

He kept his eyes forward, on the edge of the table, on the neat stacks of beli, on the broker’s hands as they folded together. The decision had been made. Whatever anyone said now would only be noise.

The broker regarded him with open interest, no attempt at disguise. Up close, it wasn’t leering. It was appraising, the way men looked at weapons they were considering acquiring.

“Very well,” the broker said. His voice carried easily over the felt. “We’ll speak somewhere quieter.”

Zoro inclined his head once. He did not smile. He did not soften his posture. If this was a transaction, he would not dress it up.

He was aware of the earpiece erupting again – Sanji’s voice sharp, Usopp’s panicked, Chopper sounding on the verge of tears – but he shut it out. Luffy’s dream was more important than the weight of his flesh. If this was what it took to move them forward, then it was simple. Not easy, but simple.

The broker rose from his chair, smooth and unhurried, and gestured toward the corridor that curved away from the gaming floor. People noticed. They always did when someone important stood. Chairs shifted. Conversations paused, then resumed once it was clear nothing entertaining was about to happen.

Zoro stepped aside to let him pass, then followed when the broker did not slow. They moved off the floor together, past the glow of the tables, through a door, and into cleaner light. The sound thinned behind them, replaced by muted footsteps and the distant hum of machinery. The corridor connected to another ring, carpet changing underfoot, décor growing restrained. Fewer cameras. Fewer people.

A door with a keypad locked the way to the residence ring. The broker punched in the number, and the door hissed as the seal broke. This was not how Zoro had imagined finally being useful in a way that didn’t involve his strength or swords. But usefulness was not about preference. It was about the result. He had known that since the day he had sworn himself to Luffy’s path.

The broker glanced back once, as if checking that Zoro was still following. Zoro met his eyes without flinching.

The man smiled and turned toward the private residence wing, one hand pressing into Zoro’s lower back to guide the way.

Franky had his shoulder wedged into the corner like he was trying to intimidate the wall into cooperating. The access panel sat at waist height, painted the same pearl-white as the corridor around it, with seams so fine it looked decorative until you knew better. Franky’s finger screwdriver bit into the third screw and turned with a dry squeal that made Sanji’s teeth itch.

“Try not to strip it, will you?” Sanji muttered, cigarette clenched at the corner of his mouth. He kept the flame low, cupping it with his hand even though there was no wind down here. Habit. Control. Anything.

Franky snorted. “Relax. I’ve unscrewed harder things than this.” He paused, then added, too pleased with himself, “Also, I’m a genius.”

Brook hovered a pace back, cane in hand, posture polite in the way only Brook could manage while being a skeleton in a casino maintenance corridor. His head tilted toward the ceiling, as if he could hear the building breathing. “It is rather elegant,” he said. “Screws for the corridor side, quick-release for inside the tunnel. Discourage curious staff, but keep emergency access.” He sounded almost admiring. “Human ingenuity is so devious.”

“Yeah,” Sanji said. “Devious. Great. Love it.” He exhaled smoke toward the floor and watched it curl along the baseboard. He would have preferred to be in the kitchen right now. He would have preferred to be anywhere right now, with Zoro stashed away with him and not about to give himself to some stranger in a sleazy exchange.

Luffy crouched by the curved glass window at the corridor’s end, face pressed against the glass, both palms splayed against it like he planned to push the ocean away. Outside, reef fish drifted by in slow schools, bright as coins. Luffy tracked them with hungry interest. “Do you think they taste good?” he asked.

“No,” Sanji snapped automatically.

“They’re right there,” Luffy said. “We could grab one, and you can cook it up.”

“They’re outside,” Sanji corrected. “In the sea. And we are in the middle of something.”

Luffy made a face and sat back on his heels. “I’m still hungry.”

“Franky gave you jerky,” Sanji said.

“I ate it all.”

“Of course you did.”

Franky’s screwdriver turned again. Another screw came free. He set it in his palm and tucked it into a pouch with the reverence of a man collecting trophies. “Four more,” he said. “Then we pop it.”

Sanji drew in smoke and held it until it hurt. He did not want to think about screws. He did not want to think about cooking fish. He did not want to think about Nami deciding that Zoro could be bartered.

The earpiece crackled. Usopp’s voice came through. “Guys. Uh. Update. Zoro’s now in the broker’s suite.”

Sanji’s lungs forgot how to work for a beat. The cigarette tip flared as he dragged too hard. “Nami-san went too far,” he said.

Franky stopped mid-turn. Brook’s cane tapped once against the tile. “It was his decision,” he reminded them. “We all heard him agree.”

Luffy scratched his head. “Zoro can still say no.”

Sanji stared at him. “Can he?”

Luffy stared back, confused and stubborn. “Yeah.”

Sanji laughed once, harsh and humorless. “He’ll say yes if he thinks it helps you.”

Franky’s screwdriver turned again, faster now. “If Zoro’s in there, what’s the plan?”

Sanji’s throat burned. He kept seeing Zoro’s face when he got cornered: flat, closed, stubborn. He would make a decision and stick to it, no matter what the cost. 

“The plan does not change,” Robin said calmly over the earpiece. “The chest in the broker’s suite is not in the bedroom. We can still retrieve it.”

Sanji felt like kicking through the glass. Causing an implosion. Killing everyone, especially the broker. 

Franky finally pulled the final screw free and set it aside with a clink. “We’re seconds from opening this,” he said. “Luffy, you ready to crawl?”

“Yep!” Luffy brightened, as if this was a snack run.

Sanji’s cigarette trembled between his fingers. He forced his hand still by pinching the filter hard enough to hurt. He should have been thinking about the heist. About chests. About the fact that beli was sitting in rooms that belonged to a man who sold secrets for sport. Instead, all he could think about was Zoro giving something away that he didn’t give lightly.

Zoro wasn’t like Sanji. Sanji could flirt with a grin and a flourish, could have a willing woman in bed one day, and a willing man the next. Zoro didn’t do casual. Zoro didn’t do half. If he offered anything – attention, time, himself – he meant it.

Sanji knew him. He knew the way Zoro watched the crew when they slept, like he was counting breaths without meaning to. He knew the way Zoro went rigid when someone tried to joke about his feelings. He knew the way Zoro went quiet when something mattered, not because he didn’t care, but because he cared too much to be careless with it. 

He saw how Zoro’s expression had tightened when Nami forgot about him on the ship. Saw how it stung when he was dismissed as decorative at the blackjack table. He saw more than he should for a rival, more than he should for even a nakama. 

Sanji’s interest had shifted a while ago without him noticing when, or even why. Zoro was still Zoro: blunt, smelly, annoying, focused, driven to a fault. Of course, he was also reserved, soft, kind, caring, willing to give his everything for anyone on the crew. Sanji spent half the time wanting to kick the shit out of him, the other half wanting to hold him close and protect him from the world, for once. He hadn’t done anything about it because Zoro wasn’t interested in him like that, and Sanji was okay with it. He didn’t need all the add-ons, as long as he got to be Zoro’s friend. Rivalrous friend, but friend nonetheless.

That didn’t stop him from wanting to storm the broker’s suite and cut the barter off at the testicles. But he could not. Because they were in the middle of a job. Because Luffy’s dream was bigger than his ego. Because Zoro had already walked in.

Franky pried at the panel edge with two fingers and a little twist of his wrist. The metal faceplate shifted away from the wall. “Okay,” Franky said. “We’re in. Luffy goes first. Sanji–”

“I know,” Sanji said, voice sharp. “I’m going.”

Brook’s head angled toward him. “Sanji-san.”

Sanji didn’t look at him. “If Zoro’s being ‘traded…,’” he said, spitting the word like it tasted bad, “...then we make sure we get paid.”

Luffy blinked. “Are we saving Zoro?”

Sanji stared at the panel opening, the dark mouth of the tunnel behind it. “We’re doing the job,” he said. “And if I see him come out of that suite looking hurt in any way, I’m going to set this whole place on fire.”

Brook made a small sound that might have been a laugh, if it weren’t threaded with worry. “Then let us proceed quickly,” he said. “Before you begin redecorating.”

Franky stepped aside. The tunnel beyond smelled like clean metal and cold air. It was tight, but passable. Emergency engineering. Practical. An undersea necessity, with access to the building’s systems.

Sanji took one last drag and dropped the cigarette, crushing it under his shoe. He didn’t bother lighting another. He leaned forward and stared into the dark, thinking of Zoro walking through a brighter corridor toward a private door.

Thinking of Nami smiling as if she hadn’t just agreed someone else would bear the cost.

Thinking of Luffy, who should have ordered Zoro to stop and hadn’t, because Luffy trusted his crew to choose.

And thinking – furiously – of how Zoro always chose everyone else first.

Franky reseated the panel with a careful push, guiding the metal faceplate back into its seam until it sat flush with the wall. He turned the screwdriver once, then again, listening for the change in resistance that told him the threads had caught properly. 

Robin stepped in beside him, still wearing the staff jacket so that no one gave her a second glance. She watched his hands as he worked, calm as ever, as if this were a routine maintenance check and not the quiet closing of a door behind half a heist.

“Panel’s good,” Franky said, closing his fingertip over the screwdriver. The corridor looked whole again. He leaned back and rolled his shoulder. “You gonna keep an eye on the theft group from here?”

“They’ll manage,” Robin said. “There are no cameras back there, and Usopp and Chopper can assist if necessary.”

Franky nodded, then hesitated. He glanced down the corridor, toward where the private wing would be. “What about… you know. Him. Zoro-bro.”

She was still for a moment. Then she shook her head once, not sharply but decidedly. “Some things are meant to remain private,” she said. “No matter the cause.”

Franky exhaled through his nose. He didn’t argue. He understood what she meant. “Guy didn’t exactly volunteer,” he muttered.

“He made a choice,” Robin replied. “As he often does.”

“Doesn’t mean I gotta like it,” he said. “Feels like using him as a bargaining chip.”

Robin met his eyes. There was no rebuke there, only acknowledgment. “It is uncomfortable,” she said. “But it was not forced.”

Franky straightened, folding his arms over his chest, metal forearms clicking softly. “He’s not built for that kind of deal,” he said. “He’s not–” He stopped himself, then shook his head. “Hell. You know.”

“I do,” Robin said.

They stood there a beat longer than necessary, listening to the distant hum of the casino systems. A stingray drifted past the glass.

Franky finally gave a short nod. “All right,” he said. “We did our part.”

“Yes,” Robin agreed.

Neither of them moved. Franky stayed by the sealed panel, arms folded, eyes fixed down the corridor that led toward the private wing. They would wait here until the all clear came through, until it was time to head back to the ship and call this finished.

He exhaled slowly, thinking that he hoped – really hoped – that Zoro knew what he was doing, and that it would be worth the cost.

The suite sat at the back of the residence area, along a maze of corridors that Zoro would not find his way back from. The broker led him through a sitting area with low furniture and glass walls that looked out into dark water. The reef lights cast slow bands of color across the ceiling. Everything in the room suggested control. Nothing was left where it could be bumped or broken by accident.

The bedroom lay beyond a sliding partition door. A wide bed dominated the center, dressed in crisp linens that hadn’t yet been disturbed. Lamps were set low, their light warm without being dim. A decanter waited on a side table beside two cut glasses.

The broker slid the door shut, enclosing them in privacy. Then, he poured without asking and handed one over. 

Zoro took it. He didn’t drink.

The broker studied him over his drink, gaze moving with unembarrassed interest. It lingered, unhurried, on the open vee of Zoro’s coat where his chest was exposed. “You don’t posture,” he said. “I appreciate that.”

Zoro said nothing. He stood where he had stopped, hand loose at his sides. 

The broker stepped closer. A hand settled on Zoro’s arm, light, testing. Fingers slid up to his shoulder. There was a pause, an unspoken question wrapped in the touch. When Zoro didn’t move, the broker’s hand drifted to the open edge of his coat, knuckles brushing skin. 

“You understand why I asked for you,” the broker said. “You’re a prize. And I intend to claim you.”

Zoro’s jaw tightened. This was the part where he was supposed to nod. Where he was supposed to accept the terms, tell himself again that it was simple. He had done worse for less. He had bled for men he barely knew. He had given his body to battle without a second thought. 

Luffy’s dream had never been fragile, but it took time. It demanded things. Sacrifice wasn’t theoretical to Zoro; it was the currency he understood best. Steel, pain, endurance. He knew how to pay in those. And if this was the price now – if this was what moved them one step farther down the path – then at least it was something he could offer.

He wasn’t clever like Nami. He didn’t see ten moves ahead like Robin. He wasn’t persuasive, wasn’t subtle, wasn’t built for anything that relied on charm. When plans required grace or deception, he stood to the side and waited until his blade was needed. Muscle. Presence. Persistence. That had always been enough.

If there was one thing he was good for, it was taking on what others shouldn’t have to. Standing where the cost would be highest and paying it himself. If that made him useful here – if that made him necessary – then the decision was already made. He told himself that this was no different. Just another way of putting himself between Luffy and the world.

Somewhere else in the casino, Luffy’s voice cut in over the earpiece, bright and unbothered. “Oops.”

Zoro steeled his resolve. If this bought Luffy’s path forward, then he’d do what it took.

“And if I see him come out of that suite looking hurt in any way, I’m going to set this whole place on fire.”

The memory of Sanji’s voice came unbidden – low, fierce, stripped of its usual humor. Sanji hadn’t said it to threaten the broker. He’d said it for Zoro, as if Zoro were something that needed guarding. As if damage to him would be unforgivable.

Zoro had always known how to be useful. He could take a hit, bleed quietly, stand back up. He had offered that a thousand times without thinking. But this – this wasn’t being used like a sword swung for Luffy’s dream. This was being reduced to something expendable, something traded. And the truth lodged hard in his chest: if he went through with it, it wouldn’t be sacrifice. It would be agreeing that he was worth less than the information he carried out.

He’d never given himself to anyone casually. In truth, he’d never given himself at all. The idea had always been distant, unreal – something that required meaning first, trust first, a wanting that ran deeper than bodies. To let it be taken like this, stripped of choice and context, felt like a violation he couldn’t unmake.

Sanji’s words didn’t make the choice for him. But they stripped away the lie that this was acceptable. That this was just another way to serve. Zoro exhaled slowly, jaw setting, spine straightening – not in defiance, but in recognition of the line he never crossed. The one he didn’t even let himself imagine crossing. Not for anyone. Not even for Luffy.

The broker’s hand slid to his chest again, firmer now, fingers hooking the edge of his coat as if to peel it back. “We don’t need to act like this is complicated,” he said. “You give me an evening. I give you what you came for.”

Zoro lifted his hand and caught the broker’s wrist. “No,” he said. Calm. Absolute.

The broker stilled.

Zoro met his gaze and didn’t look away. “I won’t,” he continued. “I thought about it. Changed my mind.”

He was ruining this. Ruining the chance to get the needed information. Throwing an unnecessary roadblock onto Luffy’s path. The idea of disappointing Luffy sat heavy in his gut, but not as much as the idea of giving something important to Zoro to a stranger. 

The room went very still. The reef light shifted across the wall behind the bed. 

He waited for the anger. For the punishment. For this to turn ugly. He pictured his crew’s faces when they realized the deal was dead. That he couldn’t follow through. That he wasn’t useful. 

Zoro accepted all of it. Because some things mattered more. Because he did.

The broker withdrew his hand and studied him for a long moment. The interest shifted. Not gone, but changed. “Hm,” he said at last. “That’s unfortunate.”

Zoro nodded once. “Yeah.”

Then the broker surprised him by smiling. “Do you know how rare that is?” the man asked. “Someone who understands his value without needing it affirmed?” He gestured toward the bed, dismissing it with a flick of his fingers. “Most men would have convinced themselves this was nothing.”

“I’m not most men,” Zoro said.

“No,” the broker agreed. He moved away, picked up his glass again, and took a measured sip. “A shame. But respectable.”

He set the glass down and spoke as if reciting a detail from memory. “There’s a shipbroker named Varric Dain. Operates out of Doerena. He doesn’t advertise, but he knows who moves on unlisted vessels. If anyone can tell you who the man with the scar and the black boat is, or who last dealt with him, it’s Dain.”

Zoro blinked. “You’re giving it to me.”

“Yes,” the broker said. “Consider it respect.”

“For what?”

“For knowing when to refuse,” the broker replied. “A man with self-value is rarer than information.”

Zoro inclined his head once. “Thanks.”

The broker gestured toward the door. “You may go.”

Zoro turned without another word and headed back toward the corridor, aware of the relief settling in only once the door closed behind him.

Luffy liked tunnels. They were like a secret maze. You went in one end and came out the other, and if you paid attention, you didn’t get lost. The maintenance panel swung open with a soft scrape, and he slipped through first, Brook following with a whisper of bones and fabric.

The office sat at the back of the broker’s suite, small and functional. Dark wooden desk. Cabinets with coded locks. A single, padlocked chest set against the wall. It smelled like old paper, metal, and the ocean. The curved window reflected the reef outside. He waved at where he thought Usopp and Chopper would be. They’d had a pocky swordfight, which Luffy heard over the den den dial. He was going to have to challenge the winner, once they were all back on the Sunny.

Brook checked the corners, though there was nothing there to find. Luffy went straight to the chest. It was heavier than it looked, which made him grin. Heavy meant good. Heavy meant repairs and food and Nami not yelling later. He crouched, got his fingers under the edge, and lifted. Easy.

They backed out the way they’d come, careful not to scrape the chest against the walls. The tunnel swallowed them again, narrow and familiar. Luffy set the chest down long enough for Brook to swing the panel shut from the inside, latch sliding home with a quiet click.

The den den dial crackled. Zoro’s voice came through, calm and clear. A refusal. No apology in it. No hesitation.

Luffy smiled. His chest felt light the way he liked. He had supported Zoro's earlier choice. Now he supported this one. He was glad that Zoro spoke up and decided for himself his own value. Luffy valued him beyond anything he could do for the crew – he valued him for who he was.

Sanji appeared from the other end of the tunnel a moment later, moving fast, a second chest balanced on his shoulder. His eyes were a little wild, his mouth set like he was holding something back. Luffy knew that look. It meant Sanji was pleased and trying not to show it.

“I’m gonna go find him,” Sanji said, setting the second chest down, already shifting his weight to turn. “He’s probably lost.”

Luffy laughed under his breath. “Go get him.”

Sanji paused, glanced back with a sharp look that softened into something private, then disappeared down the corridor.

Brook tilted his skull toward Luffy. “Shall we?”

Luffy nodded, scooped up both chests – one under each arm – and headed for the second elevator corridor. “Yeah,” he said, already thinking ahead. “I can’t wait to eat.”

Jinbe stood where the corridor widened into a soft bend of glass and polished stone, far enough from the gaming floor to avoid eyes, close enough to see anyone trying to follow. The reef outside the windows glowed in slow, artificial dusk. Fish moved through it without concern for what was going on inside.

Jinbe watched and waited, while the rest of the crew made their egress. A man who wanted to tail them would look at the doors too often. A guard who had received a message would suddenly remember his posture. The casino did not like surprises. Neither did he.

In his ear, the den den dial carried the crew in overlapping bursts, each voice a thread he could feel tugging at the same rope.

Usopp whooped first. “We did it! We did it! You see that? Perfect execution! That was my plan!”

Chopper’s reply came loud enough to crackle. “We’re not even finished yet! Don’t jinx it! Don’t jinx it!” He inhaled hard and then, as if he could not help himself, added, “But… good job, Usopp!”

“And good job to my excellent sidekick, Chopper!”

“Don’t be so nice, jerk!” Chopper shouted immediately after, and Jinbe could hear him clapping in his mind as if the sound carried through the dial.

Jinbe’s mouth twitched at the corner. He kept his attention on the corridor.

Luffy’s voice slid in next, cheerful and already past the hardest part. “After this I want meat. And noodles. And those little fried things. And meat. And the sweet buns. And–”

Brook interrupted with dignified amusement. “And meat?”

“Yes, and meat!” Luffy said.

Brook sighed theatrically. “It sounds like a meal worth having. My taste buds are already singing. Except I don’t have any, because I’m a skeleton. Yohohoho.”

Another voice cut in – Franky’s, a low rumble threaded with satisfaction. “Heh. Mission status: SUPER.”

Robin’s tone followed, smooth as if she were discussing tea. “Your confidence is admirable. If anything goes wrong in these last few moments, security will intervene, we will be killed, and the bodies will be cut apart and fed to the fish.”

Franky made a noise halfway between a laugh and a grimace. “You’re a scary lady, babe.”

Robin’s voice stayed even. “Thank you. You are a very durable man.”

“That’s the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me,” Franky declared, as if he might put it on a plaque.

Nami’s voice came in, clipped and pleased. “Two chests. Two chests, and we didn’t have to pay anything to the broker.”

Jinbe breathed out slowly through his nose. He watched a pair of well-dressed guards pass the far end of the corridor, then turn away again, their route unchanged. Good.

“And if any of you spent as much as one extra second playing around, I’m adding to your debt with hefty interest.”

Usopp protested immediately. “Nami, come on! We’re heroes!”

From farther down the dial, Sanji’s voice arrived, lower than usual, tight around the edges. “Where the hell are you?”

“I’m heading back.”

“Where?”

A beat, then Zoro: “The corridor moved.”

Sanji made a sound that was nearly a laugh and nearly a curse. “You always say that.”

“It did,” Zoro insisted.

Jinbe’s gaze stayed on the bend of hallway, but his amusement warmed in his chest. He could hear the bickering for what it was and what it was trying not to be.

Sanji sighed loudly. “Stay where you are. Don’t touch anything. Don’t talk to anyone. I’m coming.”

“I can walk,” Zoro said.

“No walking! Just tell me what you see.”

Zoro went into flat detail about a corridor that matched every other corridor. “It’s a glass connector tube. Reef lights outside. Fish going past…”

The low hum of the casino’s systems filled the pause that followed. Water light rippled faintly across the glass as something broad passed outside. Jinbe waited a bit longer, letting the casino keep thinking he was only a large man standing near a window.

A final check: no one lingering too long, no one circling back, no sudden change in guard posture. The casino’s attention remained scattered across its tables and its glitter. That meant their work had slid beneath the surface cleanly.

Jinbe reached up and adjusted the den den dial behind his ear, listening to the overlapping voices with a calm that had nothing to do with detachment. They were loud. They were reckless. They were, against all logic, astonishingly effective.

He found himself smiling. Then he let out a quiet laugh, warm and genuine, because there was no other honest response to them.

“What a lively crew,” Jinbe said under his breath, and meant it as the highest praise he knew.

They walked in silence, their earpieces taken off. The dock was long and narrow, boards worn smooth by feet and salt, lanterns swinging on chains that made the pools of light shift over the planks. The harbor lay thick with ships – masts like a forest, rigging humming when the warm breeze slid through. Farther in, the island’s inns held their own lights, window squares and hanging signs and the occasional burst of laughter that carried over the water.

The Sunny was moored at the far end, where the dock thinned out and the crowd stopped bothering to wander. Sanji kept his hands in his pockets. He had a cigarette in his mouth, smoke curling and catching in the breeze. His pace matched Zoro’s, as always.

Sanji glanced over. Zoro looked the way he always looked when he didn’t want anyone asking questions – face set, shoulders squared, gaze forward. There was something defensive in it, too, like he was already braced for being found lacking. As if he expected Sanji to think less of him for stopping.

Sanji had plenty of questions. He didn’t ask any of them.

But then Zoro began to speak. He inhaled, slow and deliberate, as if he’d reached the end of a private argument and decided he wasn’t backing down from it. “Before you decide what that meant,” he said, flat and guarded, “I didn’t change my mind because I panicked. It wasn’t pride. And it wasn’t fear.”

Sanji’s fingers tightened in his pocket, then relaxed. He focused his gaze on the dock ahead. If he looked at Zoro too directly, he’d do something stupid. Say something too sharp. Lose whatever this was immediately.

Zoro continued. “He didn’t really see me. I was part of the price. Like it didn’t matter who I was, only what he could get from it.”

Sanji could still hear the broker’s tone in his own head, could still hear Nami’s agreement after Zoro’s own. He didn’t blame her. He didn’t really forgive her, either.

Zoro’s jaw shifted once. “I tried to tell myself it was simple. That it was for the crew. For Luffy. That I could take it and it wouldn’t mean anything.”

Sanji’s chest tightened. He didn’t interrupt.

Zoro’s gaze stayed forward, fixed on the thin line of dock leading to the Sunny’s silhouette. “But the idea of that choice belonging to anyone else felt wrong,” he said. “I didn’t want it to be his. I didn’t want it to be the kind of thing people can take.”

Sanji heard the emphasis and understood it. Not just the act. The decision. The permission. The part of Zoro that said yes and meant it. He let a breath out through his nose, controlled. “So you said no.”

“Yeah.” Zoro’s mouth tightened, then eased. “I said no.”

Sanji waited, because there was always more with Zoro. It never came fast. It came when it was ready.

“I never planned to want anyone,” Zoro said. It came out blunt, without softening. “I didn’t… think it was for me.”

Sanji’s hand found his spent cigarette, disposing of it off the side of the dock. He knew this already. Knew that Zoro’s interest – if it ever existed at all – had never been something Zoro sought out or named, never something he’d promised or offered. Sanji had made his peace with that long ago. Had told himself that wanting Zoro without being wanted back was still better than not wanting him at all, that standing close without reaching was enough.

Zoro’s voice didn’t change. That was how Sanji knew it mattered. “But if I ever would,” he said, toppling Sanji's world, “it’d be you.”

Sanji stopped walking.

Zoro stopped too, a few steps ahead, then turned back. He looked at Sanji with that same plain attention he gave to opponents and storms – direct, unadorned, like he didn’t know any other way to hold his gaze. Like he expected the worst and would accept it.

Sanji didn’t give him the worst. He stared at Zoro for a long second, then huffed a short breath that almost turned into a laugh but didn’t. “You bastard,” he said, voice rough. His heart hammered hard in his chest. “You can’t drop that on someone like it’s… like it’s a grocery list.”

Zoro’s brow twitched. “It’s not.”

“I know it’s not.” Sanji pinched the bridge of his nose, shaking his head. “You just–” He stopped and realized they were going to do this. That he had to put it out there. “I’ve been interested in you for a while,” he admitted, the words tasting like admitting defeat. “Long enough that I know your face when you’re pretending things don’t matter.”

Zoro’s expression shifted a fraction, guarded and intent at the same time.

Sanji kept going before he lost nerve. “I saw it today. When Nami-san forgot about you. When she said you were decorative. When you acted like you didn’t care.” His jaw tightened. “And I hated that I saw it.”

Zoro didn’t look away. He didn’t make a joke. He waited.

Sanji’s voice went quieter. “You mean a lot to me, marimo. I really would have burned that place down if you got hurt.”

Zoro’s hand flexed once at his side, then stilled. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” Sanji swallowed. The truth was hanging out there now, for the world to see.

The dock lantern above them swayed, light sliding over Zoro’s scars and the line of his mouth. The harbor sounds went on around them: water against pilings, distant voices, a gull complaining.

Zoro took one step closer. “So,” he said, direct and deliberate. “What now?”

Sanji exhaled slowly. He could feel the Sunny waiting out there at the end of the dock, could picture the crew scattered on deck, counting, laughing, arguing. He could picture tomorrow and the next day and all the ways they’d keep moving.

“Now you get to decide again,” Sanji said. “I already know what I feel. What I want. I’m okay with just being nakama and kicking your ass on a daily basis.”

Zoro scoffed, but it was soft, without meaning behind it. “We both know you’ll never win.”

Sanji kicked out lightly with his foot, hitting Zoro’s shin. “Asshole.”

Zoro paused, and then his expression became a bit shy, even though his words remained blunt. “Maybe your asshole.”

Sanji’s lips pulled into a grin. “You’re going to regret saying that.”

“Maybe,” Zoro said. His eye stayed on Sanji’s. “Still.”

Sanji felt his breath ease in a way he hadn’t realized it had been tight all day. He stepped closer, just enough that their chests touched without pressing. 

Zoro held Sanji’s gaze for a beat, then said, blunt and careful at the same time, “You want to kiss me?”

Sanji huffed a breath that might’ve been a laugh. “Yeah. I do.”

“Okay,” Zoro said.

Sanji closed the distance and kissed him, gentle at first, then a little firmer when Zoro didn’t pull back. But he kept it brief. It was enough for now.

A tiny smile graced Zoro’s lips when Sanji stepped away. They fell into step, shoulders brushing as they continued down the dock. The Sunny waited at the end, lights glowing soft against the dark water.

They’d gotten what they came for, and nothing had been lost along the way.

End