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Waves crashed indiscriminately against the hull of the Thousand Sunny, seagulls using the sail as their own personal restrooms. There were no creaks against the ocean’s punches, only smooth sailing and the unmistakingly rowdy voice of Franky as he shot at the seagulls to startle them away. It was well before dinner, the sun splitting the sky with its rays of heat and promise of light at the center of a canvas of blue amidst some stray clouds.
Each member did what was similar to a meditation for them, what settled the blood in their veins and the smiles on their faces.
Sanji leaned against the railing outside the galley, pressing the butt of a cigarette against a glass ashtray before pulling out another. Franky headed to Usopp’s work shop, asking what type of super sniper shot he had come up with this time. Robin and Nami were reclining on a couple of lawn chairs, fruitful drinks at hand, simply taking in the day. Brooke stood nearby, playing a quiet and smooth, yet happy tune to compliment the music of the waves. Chopper, of course, was taking inventory of all the herbs he had stored, thinking what kind of medicine could they be used for. Zoro was up high in the crow’s nest, feet in the air and hands on the floor. He had about two thousand vertical push-ups left, a weight of two tons atop each foot.
Luffy.
He was settled upon his very favorite spot to watch the ocean fall over the horizon, to listen to his surroundings, to be able to relax the only way he can when he’s not being obnoxiously loud or playing with Usopp or even Chopper. He sits up, leaning on his hands behind himself. He looks over his shoulder at his crew. His nakama.
Luffy can’t stay still long enough to give anyone more than a moment’s silence though and he shoots himself over his family, up to the crow’s nest with a nasal call of “Gomu-Gomu no! Slingshot!”.
Zoro doesn’t flinch at the sudden thump on the roof as he counts down, “One thousand five hundred twenty two, one thousand five hundred twenty one. . .”
With barely a pause after the ruckus, Luffy swings in through a window Zoro had opened for the breeze to cool the sweat on his skin.
Zoro flicks his eyes towards his captain with no falter in his training.
“Oi, Zoro!”
Zoro only grunts in return, keeping the count in his thoughts. He’s at one thousand four hundred fifty six and Luffy’s just sitting on the floor a little ways from him, legs crossed and eyes lit like a child.
Zoro had a well understanding of who Luffy was, but at the same time, he didn’t understand his captain at all. He understood and respected the way Luffy viewed the world and his morals, but he would be lying if he said he knew what Luffy would do every step of the way. Luffy was simple minded but also an enigma of his own, incredibly enough. Maybe he didn’t think twice of his actions most of the time, going by instinct. That’s how Zoro fought- except with more calculation. Or maybe when he had those moments, where he stood silently watching, that uncharacteristic frown settling on his face- maybe he was thinking.
It seems the swordsman happened to be so engrossed in his thoughts, he hadn’t noticed Luffy slowly inching closer. Zoro became suspicious at this, continuing his count, his muscles giving no flicker of resistance at the brutal training.
nine hundred eighty eight.
“You train a lot, ne, Zoro?”
Zoro continues uninterrupted.
“I train too! You just don’t see it cause’ I don’t try new moves til i’m in a real fight!”
. . . eight hundred. . . seven hundred sixty. . . seven hundred forty . . .
“And they always turn out to be super cool! Yours too but you train a lot more than me and Sanji just bursts into flames sometimes, he’s so weird. But he’s not as bulky as you and i’m not bulky at all, shishishi.”
Luffy may have realized Zoro wasn’t going to speak until he’s done so he stays quiet for about two minutes. The swordsman expects Luffy to exclaim about how boring this is, but he stays watching him attentively with wide eyes and an equally wide smile.
A couple more minutes pass and Zoro finally pushes off the ground with his hand, practically kicking the weights to the other side of the room with soles of his feet, then stands.
“Helps clear my mind.”
“Watching the ocean clears my mind.”
Zoro begins to wipe himself down with a towel. “It’s odd to think your mind is ever clear.”
Luffy opts to laugh and stands to walk over to the abandoned weights.
“These are pretty heavy, right?”
Zoro affirms with a nod before throwing his head back to drink from a bottle.
Luffy bends down to pick up a one ton weight and stood straight with ease, lifting his arm over his head- Zoro expected nothing less. Next, Luffy reaches down for a two ton weight and lifts it with little resistance.
“You lift these everyday? That’s awesome!” He says as his arms move in a mock workout.
Zoro couldn’t help but notice how lanky he really was- due to his rubber form- how there was no protrude of muscle as he lifted each one as if they were equal to lifting kittens. Zoro could do the same, but his captain did it in such a casual way that he could admire.
Luffy looks from the weights in his hands to Zoro, scanning his body, eyes raking over arms, torso and legs. Lineage of muscle, tendon, and veins that could slice through steel were concealed under all that skin, that was mostly visually present while in exertion. Right now, though, he seemed as strong as any other man that was- and for lack of better word- big.
So, luffy nonchalantly drops the weights, keeping his roving eyes on Zoro’s exposed body(his only modesty a haramaki and pants), and walks over. Zoro, with a bottle half lifted towards his lips, stares back at Luffy’s eyes which were not meeting back with his own. He stays quiet as he drinks a few more mouthfuls from the bottle, electing to ignore his captain’s antics for now.
Zoro sets the bottle down and sits on the ground in a meditating position. He crosses his legs over each other and rests his hands along his thighs. Giving one more glance to Luffy, who is crouching down to sit along with him, he shuts his eyes.
It wasn’t another thirty seconds when Zoro felt fingers tracing his muscles from his shoulder down to his elbow, then an open palm slides down his forearm to his hand. Zoro doesn’t open his eyes when he speaks,
“Luffy.”
“huh?”
“What are you doing.”
“Touching Zoro’s muscles.”
“Why?”
“Because I don’t have any to touch.”
Clearly, this wasn’t going anywhere he could comprehend anytime soon, so, he let’s him do as he pleases. And Luffy continues to trace his other arm, starting back up from the shoulder again then sliding down to his hands on his thighs. Now, he started more along the back of Zoro’s neck, curving his rubbery fingers around his jutting shoulder blades and feeling down the bumps of his spine. Some sort of shiver made its way back up the trail those fingers made down, and his brow twitched over his closed eyes. Luffy’s fingers became more nimble, drumming his fingers on different areas of his back then shortly going back to sliding them across.
Zoro can work with this. He can meditate just fine- as if his captain wasn’t touching him at all. As if Luffy hadn’t moved on to lower regions of his body and also as if two hands weren’t squeezing both of his thighs and then sliding down to cup his knees then repeating the action-
“You’re kinda tense. Isn’t meditation about relaxing?”
Zoro, again, only grunts in response. Not bothering to let his captain distract him.
“Zoro, your muscles are so big but you’re sort of soft,” He then proceeds to giggle that mischievous giggle of his and Zoro’s lip twitches.
“I’m soft because i’m made of rubber! Soft and squishy I guess.”
Zoro thinks that he’d never thought about that before. It’d be true, wouldn’t it? Even though Luffy far surpasses Zoro’s strength, he’d be pretty soft because of his devil fruit. He thinks, although Luffy isn’t particularly lanky, he still didn’t appear bony but rather smooth. . . if he thought about it.
Which he definitely isn’t, he is meditating.
Even when he wasn’t thinking-those hands were still there and they were still doing whatever they wanted. They continued on their journey, down Zoro’s shin and sliding inwards- because of Zoro’s sitting position- making their way slowly- slowly and being ridiculously gentle and curious- up his calf and meeting his inner thigh. From there they slid a little ways towards his crotch and Zoro almost shifted, almost said something, but he knows his captain doesn’t intend to make him uncomfortable. He knows these actions seem completely innocent to his captain, that he’s only mapping out his muscles or some shit- but.
Luffy’s hands quickly slide back to his outer thigh- where Zoro’s own hands rest- and then they finally lift up and away from him. Or at least he thought so because a hand is suddenly along his jaw and he’s pretty sure that’s a thumb on his cheek and a couple fingers tickling where his sideburns began.
This time, he does open his eyes, and he wishes he absolutely would of not done so. Luffy’s face was so close to his own and it wasn’t leaning away. Luffy was staring at him so intently, at his temples, at his nose, anywhere but his eyes until they were the very last thing they met.
His captain. . .
Was so. . .
Irritating.
“I can’t meditate like this.”
Luffy backed away in an almost jerky movement, “Sorry, sorry!”
And then Sanji’s calling for dinner and that was that, rubber ball out the window.
Zoro sighs heavily as he wipes himself down with a rag. He puts his shirt on and places his swords at his waist. Then he looks at his own hands, keeps them at abdomen level as if waiting to join hands at the holy church. He shakes his head vigorously, wiping his palms on the fabric of his pants and making his way down to the deck.
Dinner was as uneventful as a festival could be, that is, full of ridiculousness and rowdiness and quite possibly the best food he’d ever tasted. He wordlessly sat at his seat as per usual but today his eyes couldn’t help but find themselves settling on his captain no matter how many times he tried to pay attention to the rest of the crew. It proved itself futile since Luffy happens to be the most tumultuous member of the crew right next to Brook and Usopp, and also maybe Sanji.
It pays to train. It pays to keep himself in check when it comes to his body, to move it the way it was meant to. Of course, this also meant he trained mentally. Hardened both his body and mind. He also kept himself in check when it came to emotions, though he didn’t choose to stay as a stoic, blank slate. He enjoyed expressing himself. His disbelief, excitement,
bloodlust.
But that also left a vast amount of open space for unexplored emotions. Some of those amongst the more distant emotions, he chose to leave there- far, far away from himself. Though, he never would have imagined such a breach so far down the line. Zoro: he is brutally honest with himself and he does not tolerate lies, let alone for him to lie to himself. He recognizes who he is and what he feels on a daily basis and he will not let that spark of emotion go unnoticed or ignored. He needs to take care of it, and as soon as conveniently possible. The only problem seems to be the very base of the problem itself and this was-
him.