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With the last pinpricks of disinfectant finishing dancing over his nerves and not so pleasant sensation of having just sewn his own skin with thick fishing thread they had available on the ship, he’s about to be done with bandaging his other ankle when a loud thump resounds outside, sending the roll of gauze under the bench and table. It doesn’t shake the ship with a barrage of stray cannonballs nor sends them plummeting underwater with only broken boards to hold onto, but it does put Usopp’s story to a halt, continuing to hold Sanji partially out of the loop of how today’s events unfolded.
It also makes Luffy almost choke on his bright laughter with how serious his expression suddenly changes, as he jumps to his feet amped up for a fight, always hungry for more.
Shit. They already had one unwanted visitor on board since taking on the whole Baroque Works like it’s nothing; they should’ve been more careful. Zoro should’ve been more careful, not lulled by the cozy after-battle atmosphere and crew’s jolly antics. He clenches his jaw, inwardly cursing again— this time aimed directly at the slight limp in his gait. It’s not even that big of an injury, and it still holds him back, stifles his reaction time. Makes him weak.
The princess is first to the door, the rest of them following in tandem— weapons drawn, limbs ready and eyes wary.
But nothing jumps out from the darkness of the deck, the moon too much of a sliver to give any sensible light, and only when Sanji flickers the flame of his lighter against the lanterns secured to the railings, it’s apparent what made that noise.
Nami lies there in the center, not having made more than few steps from the door, breathing heavily and sweat thickly plastering her hair to the troubled frown knitting her brows close together. She was just fine, moments ago.
They don’t need words to jump into action.
While Vivi tugs Usopp back to the kitchen presumably for some supplies, he and Sanji carefully lift her up and drape her over their shoulders to take her to her room. She’s so light he would’ve done it alone, but one glance at Cook tells him this is the way to do it. He looks like he's actual seconds away from falling apart if he’s not given something to do, his usually steady hands trembling at the side and coming into contact with Nami’s hot skin just so she doesn’t slip, as if barely any touch would break her in her current condition. The suffocating air of restlessness and tension as they carefully maneuver around the ship is only amplified by Luffy trailing each of their steps like a ghost, buzzing with unsettled energy, unnaturally quiet like not once since they’ve met.
And yeah, Zoro gets that.
It feels weird, wrong, lowering her down into the same bed (despite it being hers) he not that long ago was recovering from the nearly fatal would Mihawk had dealt him. Like it’s far more dire than simple cold-induced fever, or light sunstroke. Like she might not be getting up from that as early as they all would have liked— and the desire for her to instantly get better is palpable in the room.
They hover aimlessly for a second or two more, fluffing the pillows and brushing the wisps of hair from her face, before Usopp barges in with a large bowl of water swirling wildly about and Vivi in tow, a handful of things tugged in her hold.
She takes in the room at large, exhales, and begins murmuring some instructions for them to follow. Zoro’s not sure if he even hears most of it, just moving on an autopilot, but it’s good— it keeps them busy for a bit, mindless little tasks distracting from worrying too much. Window is opened since the warm tropical wind still blows from Little Garden, blankets and duvets gathered from across the ship are layered near Nami in case of chills disturbing her rest, and her forehead is graciously covered with damp cloth that seems to ease her discomfort a little. Beside the basin for changing the compress, two glasses of water with staw are set at the bedside.
In the end they’re left standing watching her breathe, unsure of the next course of action.
“Will this help?” The voice that breaks the silence is so small Zoro has to double check if it really belongs to his captain. Luffy steps closer, posture stiff and expression blank, like he’s been frozen this whole time and only just regains consciousness.
Vivi’s smile is shy in response, but when she speaks her tone shapes into confident authority he’d expect out of future leader. “A bit, certainly. I think we should consider finding a real doctor if the fever won’t break on its own, but for now managing her body temperature and keeping her hydrated is all we can do.”
To that Luffy gives a single nod, determination sharpening his features, and he takes off his hoodie to place it gently over Nami. “It’s gonna be okay.” It’s the closest thing to whisper he’s ever managed, and with one final stroke to smooth out the wrinkles of the material, he leaves the room.
Zoro watches for a moment longer as the rest of them continue to fuss around to make Nami as comfortable as possible, and feeling incredibly useless himself, he too steps out, fingers thrumming against Wado’s hilt.
(Mihawk’s dark coat looms in the corner of his vision like a death omen, rippling in the nonexistent wind, but for the first time since facing the man, it doesn’t inspire him to draw out a blade and train till he can’t stand anymore. It just makes him sick.
After all, this is not something he can cut, not now, not ever before. And maybe he is of a weak constitution if he can’t stand to see girl he learned to call family unconscious and growing ever so fainter without his word in it, powerless in the face of accidents and illnesses. )
“Oi.”
He isn’t sure for how long he just leans against the wall staring at the wide expanse of the ocean when Usopp joins him, dropping heavy to the ground beside him. His swollen eye is an angry red, and his cheeks puff up before he releases the air in huffy sigh.
“I think I’m about to pass out.”
The dramatics, despite it all, manage to pull Zoro’s lip into half-grin. “No way the great Lord of Destruction is tired.” He snarks without any bite, trying for a joke. Seas know it’s been a long fucking day. “Call it a night then.”
“Yeah.” Usopp groans, rubs his face only to remember the state of it and flinches back in pain. “Yeah, in a bit.”
Which is completely fair; all things aside the night is warm and pleasant, like a calming balm on the senses, and Zoro doesn’t mind company. There’s a beat of undisturbed by anything melody of water idly brushing against the hull, a flutter of sails—then Usopp is back to fidgeting, shoulder bumping into swordsman’s knee. “You …feeling alright?”
Well, he obviously doesn’t have a fever, so that’s not it, but he also doesn’t feel like having heart-to-heart about anything else right now. Ever for that matter, he thinks. At Zoro’s raised brow he makes a weird hand gesture that doesn’t really mean anything, and clarifies, “Man, this, this paint, right? Some really freaky stuff.”
Ah. “It…” made him into an idiot who can’t compose himself enough to beat a couple of weirdos, act when the lives that matter to him are in danger.
Quite honestly, some part of him didn’t consider how the title of first mate he’d claimed for himself in the vow to Luffy would come into play later, as their adventure took them onto bigger and more dangerous stages to perform his duties. At the time it seemed like a right thing to say, to shout to the sky— and of course now Zoro wouldn’t have it any other way, always ready to put his life between his crew and the rest of the world, but the possibility that he wouldn’t or couldn’t always be there to be able to do so didn’t really occurred to his as an option.
Until there he was, stuck shins deep in the candle wax, stripped even off the chance to get rid of his own limbs to keep on fighting with all his might.
“It’s whatever. Fine.”
Usopp, undeterred by the time it took him put those three words together, probs further. “You sure? Hundred percent no lasting unwanted thoughts?” And even by his standards of distressing himself over nothing it’s a bit too much that it becomes suspicious.
“That little brat didn’t get you too, did she?”
“Me? Can a master be bested in his own craft? Don’t even joke about it! Captain Usopp, the greatest artisan of his time, can’t be manipulated by mere colors! Besides, I’m naturally negative!” He says, like it’s a good thing, all puffy and proud, only to instantly deflate back into his hunches, fingers drumming against the wooden deck, “Sooo, if you say it’s not a big deal it probably isn’t, I mean, why would it be-”
“Usopp.”
“It just.” He sighs again, all that bravado he accumulated during the day escaping with a hiss of let out air, “it was so wrong to see Luffy like this.”
Zoro lowers himself to the floor as well, getting tired of standing as the conversation gets more serious, and returns the shoulder bump in what he hopes is reassuring gesture. “And you did your best to fix that.”
“I didn’t though! I was so stressed overthinking every possible outcome that I… I-” And then in a barely audible whisper, that would mix with the ocean if they weren’t that close, “He sounded so sad Zoro, I had no idea what to do.”
Something in Zoro twists, that little overprotective thread winding through and squeezing his stomach and lungs. He does recall Luffy’s voice as the wax was solidifying around him, but he just sounded appropriately angry to his ears, unapologetically booming as always.
Even on the scaffold about to be executed, he laughed Death into face. (And hell, that’s something he doesn’t wanna think too much about. The sight still sometimes haunts his dreams.)
Sad Luffy is just beyond his comprehension.
“…Well, uh, you figured it out. That’s what counts.”
At that Usopp chuckles, a dark, humorless thing shaping it, and Zoro already can tell he’ll hate it. “Yeeeah. Know what worked surprisingly well? Like a charm? Drowning.”
If somebody attacked the ship this very moment and knocked him out, Zoro thinks he wouldn’t feel any different. Usopp falls silent at his side picking at his nails, but he doesn’t have to say another word— the implications are loud and clear.
The paint induced euphoria he experienced, although forced, at the moment felt real. Very real. It colored the world in ridiculous tones, fed him crooked view that he couldn’t help but find funny. Everything was just so exaggerated out of proportion as if maybe being horribly intoxicated, except Zoro never in his whole life was so drunk that he couldn’t shake it off.
Now, all that but dressed in blue? He gets why Usopp’s antsy.
“I was almost too late.”
And that’s another part of first mate’s duties Zoro finds himself utterly lacking in— supporting the crew in something other than fight, providing comfort to others without feeling so fucking awkward every time. Sure, he can encourage and praise a bit, but it always falls flat coming from him. It’s nothing compared to Nami’s matter-of-fact comments, Usopp’s embellishments, Cook’s flattery or Luffy’s steadfast statements. He knows he ain’t good at words— so his actions must always suffice.
Zoro stands up, willing himself to be as steady as is expected of him and puts hand on sniper’s head, careful not to mess his curls too much.
“You did good,” he stresses, “Go rest. I’ll check on Luffy.”
And with that, he turns to figurehead, where captain’s silhouette is lighted with single lantern keeping him company.
“Hey.”
“Zoro.” Luffy returns, twisting sideways on Merry, one foot precariously dangling overboard. “How’s Nami?”
Right. He’d expect an update, even if not much could’ve changed in that short period of time. Zoro shrugs, “Princess and Cook got her for now.”
“She’ll be fine.” He decides, like it’s that simple, like the fate alone rests in his hands easily to be molded into what he wants, and Zoro can’t help the subtle relief that settles at his core. If captain believes it, so it will be—he is yet to be proven wrong.
“Your gut again?”
In response he just gets a cheeky grin. “And Usopp?”
Zoro steps up closer into the light, rests his elbows on the railing and stares at the impenetrable blackness of the sea. How deep could he dive before reaching his limit? Or better yet, how much he could stretch that limit to reach someone?
A finger pokes him in the cheek. Insistent.
“…worried, I guess.” He murmurs, and then can’t quite stifle the flinch as rubberman breaks into giggling fit out of nowhere near his ear, like it’s just a silly quirk, on par with Cook’s fawning, or Nami’s constant scheming. Like almost losing Luffy that day is absolutely nothing to be concerned about. Like the possibility of his death could be easily accepted.
“He always is!”
Angry fire rekindled from Logue Town and lit somewhere in the pit of his stomach, he whips back to Luffy to snap at him for being so fucking careless—only to meet his face already there, so close and open his next words catch a bit in his throat as they lose most of their force.
“He pulled you out of the water.”
“Yeah.” His big toothy smile softens around the edges, dark eyes swimming with quiet adoration. “He’s the best.”
And there’s something other in there too, something Zoro can’t quite put a finger to it. A certainty maybe, assurance that everything is fine, no question about it. The same one that shines through when he proclaims to the world at large he’s gonna be the Pirate King.
The same one Zoro sometimes catches directed at him when he trains.
Suddenly feeling embarrassingly exposed, his gaze falls down, stopping at the gashes along the rubber arm. Zoro blinks at them. They must have been hiding under the hoodie before, because it’s the first time he’s seeing them.
“You got cut.”
Luffy looks equally surprised, but maybe not by their existence, just the sole fact they warrant any attention. “Oh, this? Already spitted on it.”
And whatever weird mood hung over them evaporates in favor of the typical exasperation that comes with everyday life as a Strawhat pirate.
”Or was it licking that made them better?”
“…Sure. Still got some wax in it. C’mon.”
With a sigh and not much resistance from the idiot he calls captain, he drags them both back to the empty kitchen, taking the lantern on the way. It’s left in a slight disarray as they ran off earlier, but he still manages to find supplies he left scattered around quite quickly.
Meanwhile Luffy climbs up to the countertop, claiming it as his throne without Cook to shoo him off, and takes the brief silence as an invitation to entertain himself with yapping.
“Those were some pretty stupid fights anyway, right? Especially that booger man, good thing you cut him down. I wish I could see that instead fighting the clay guy —he was just kinda weird and that’s all. The giants were super awesome though. Ooh and dinosaurs too. You think we’ll get to eat them again? I know Sanji has some leftover, but man, there were so many different ones. Or that massive goldfish. Too bad it sank as soon as we got through it— bet it was tasty.”
Zoro absentmindedly grunts in the appropriate pauses, and with kit gathered he situates himself between rubber legs, straddling one of them to avoid as much movement from the boy as possible. He then takes the dutifully raised to him arm to begin extracting the remains of melted candle wax, but as he does, a hand snakes its way around his neck to play with his earrings, ever so searching for distractions. It tickles.
He looks up at his captain with the beginning of a sentence on his parted lips and… stills, realizing too late of how they’re positioned. His heart feels like it’s about to burst out from his chest and run away like that coward it is.
Luckily Luffy doesn’t pick up on any of that, or if he does he’s not one to mention such things, and with a bright crooked smile he continues just saying shit.
“Vivi said they have ducks over at her home so big you can ride them. They’re super fast too. Think she’ll be mad if we try to catch and roast one?”
And it’s such a Luffy thing, so easy and effortless, it makes him guffaw, a genuine belly deep laugh that coaxes his nerves to totally relax, give in to his captain nonsense. By the time he’s done with patching Luffy up, he thinks he heard about every imaginary creature possible and what side dish it would go along well (it’s meat. Always more meat— although he appreciates the thoughtful addition of booze to some of them).
They stumble back into Nami’s room, finding the rest of the crew still with her.
Vivi is half kneeling against the bed, legs curled underneath her in a way she’ll regret in the morning and a palm gently placed over Nami’s cheek, who, for all the sickly look, appears quite content at the moment. Zoro throws blanket over princess’ shoulders as he passes to the empty corner Luffy leads him to, stepping over Usopp sprawled on Sanji’s legs, similar cooling patch plastered on his face and dainty fingers frozen in the middle of petting his hair. Cook himself stirs a bit with their entrance, as if stubbornly pretending he hasn’t dozed off a while ago, but quickly slacks back at Luffy’s very, very quiet ‘hush’ sound that does not end in a giggle. …Well. It’s the effort that counts anyway, and Zoro is not a snitch. Not with his captain making his bed on his chest.
All in all, they’re a mess of intervened limbs and breaths in too small room.
It’s nice.