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“So,” Luffy casually began, “Do you guys have Soulmarks?”
All attention was drawn to Luffy as he grinned, and Usopp was the first to simply answer, “Sure, yup, I have one.”
“Can I see?”
With a slightly nervous chuckle, Sanji questioned, “I thought Soulmarks were kind of a private thing, yeah?”
“Well, we’re a crew Sanji. What is there to hide?”
“I don’t mind!” Usopp stood and hiked up his shirt to reveal a bright red blocky cross on his hip. The rest of the crew looked with varied expressions. “My soulmate is Kaya. I felt the Soul Bond’s acceptance before we left. Had it since I met her.”
“Aw, that’s great, Usopp,” Luffy commented.
Without ceremony, he shucked off his floral patterned vest and turned around to display his bare back. On each shoulder blade there was a marking. The left had a fiery orange fist, and the right had a charred shape that wasn’t easy to identify. Lastly, the middle of his lower back had a cluster of five-pointed flowers in grayscale.
“Whoa,” Usopp said.
“The top right one used to be flaming blue feathers,” Luffy told them after a quiet moment and reached over to touch it with two fingers. “I guess he died or forgot me.”
“Three soulmates?” Sanji stared with incredulity. Luffy grabbed his shirt and slipped it back on. He plopped down in his chair again. He cupped his face in his hand and looked across the table. The group’s focus didn’t leave him.
“Of course Luffy would,” Zoro muttered from where he nursed a bottle of liquor.
“The first two were my sworn brothers. We were separated. The third could be platonic too.” Luffy mused, “I don’t know! Maybe I will get a romantic interest.”
“I guess I’ll go next,” Nami piped up. She tugged down the collar of her shirt to reveal a traditional crown attached with what appeared to be a ponytail that curled at the end. It was colorless like Luffy’s lower mark.
Zoro narrowed his eyes at her. Nami caught his gaze and pursed her lips with eyebrows raised. She wasn’t prepared yet to share the first of her marks that only Zoro had once glimpsed. It was far too evident in its resemblence to a certain jolly roger.
“What does it mean when they’re gray or colored or—” Sanji fiddled with his cuffs. “The old man didn’t like to talk about soulmate stuff.”
Nami filled him in. “It’s simple. Lack of color usually means you’ve met your soulmate but they haven’t accepted or acknowledged you as their soulmate. Obviously — once that happens, they’ll get their colors. If it’s black that usually means death, but it could also represent—”
She hesitated. “—rejection. That’s a bit of a social taboo. Being rejected by your soulmate is considered shameful.”
“A complement of your soul not wanting you at all?” Usopp rubbed his arms and shuddered. “I can’t imagine. Damn, that would suck.”
Sanji nodded and then asked, “Is it er — is it supposed to hurt when you get your Soulmark?”
Luffy and Usopp gave him baffled looks, and he shrank back. Nami glanced at them and also threw Sanji a look, but hers was contemplative.
“Not often — mine just felt like a warm and gentle pressure — but it can,” she carefully affirmed. “It’s considered something of a bad omen. While strong emotions may trigger the Soulmark — for its reveal to be painful could mean the Soul Bond is crying out for help. Something really bad — emotionally or physically — happened to your soulmate in that moment.”
Sanji looked to the side and twisted his hands. “I got mine at the Baratie, shortly before I joined you. I thought I was gonna die. My whole arm and chest felt like I got stung by a poisonous jellyfish. I think Zeff nearly had a heart attack when I collapsed.”
Luffy prompted, “Can we see it?”
Nami shook her head, and Usopp laughed. Sanji sighed and dragged a palm over his face. However, he started to unbutton his shirt and removed an arm from one sleeve. He flexed his bicep to show off an elegant katana with something rounded and slightly fluffy snuggled to the end of the hilt. Despite its missing pigment, the mark had a slight glimmer when it caught the light.
“Look, Zoro — a sword! You like swords,” Luffy practically shouted. Zoro jerked from his lounging position and placed his bottle on the table. He tilted his head to view the mark.
“Nice.”
“Don’t you want a closer look?” Luffy urged, “Maybe you can tell us more about it.”
“It’s just a normal sword,” Sanji awkwardly cut in.
Zoro grumbled under his breath. He got up to slide between Nami and Sanji. He knelt on the seat to examine the mark stretched across Sanji’s right arm. He quickly concluded it was — in fact — not ordinary.
“This seems to be a rare and high caliber blade,” Zoro remarked.
His hand twitched with the yearning to touch, but the mark was on Sanji’s skin. Regardless, the magnificent imprint beckoned him. Sanji pressed his bottom lip into the upper as his gaze briefly flicked down.
“Really?”
Zoro hummed. “It’s oddly intricate — not just a shallow representation of katanas in general. It’d be weird if your soulmate isn’t a swordsmith or at least an aficianado of some kind.”
An image of Tashigi floated into Zoro’s mind, and for some reason it made the area behind his sternum burn like he’d inhaled a large meal that was extra spicy. They hadn’t crossed paths until later, but since Soulmarks didn’t always occur in proximity, it was still possible.
“Huh.”
“I don’t know what this stuff is hanging off the hilt, though.”
“Maybe they like nature. It looks like grass or some fruit,” Sanji pondered. “Could represent a Devil Fruit power related to swords?”
Zoro grimaced. “Reminds me of Wadō Ichimonji and could almost be its twin. Your Soulmark is definitely the Sentimental type.”
A smirk pulled his lips. “Mosshead, you sound envious of my mark.”
“I’m not jealous, I — mine’s just — it’s boring by comparison.” With a dismissive scoff he clambered to the other side of the table. He ignored the way Nami covered her mouth and the amusement twinkling in her eyes.
“There’s specific types of Soulmarks, then.” Sanji swept his gaze over his companions.
“Yeah!” Luffy continued, “I have Elemental Soulmarks from my sworn brothers, and I think my third is most likely Sentimental like yours. Might be Symbolic though, it can depend on the context!”
Nami elaborated, “Elemental is when it represents some significant power, skill, or interest that is kind of abstract. Then there’s Symbolic, where it’s something related to their origins, goals, or place in the world as they view it—”
“As for you — Sanji — it’s probably a Sentimental Soulmark which means an object that either has special meaning to your soulmate or has a close association with them.”
“Never guessed there was so much to it,” Sanji murmured.
“Zoro, you were pretty quiet until you ogled Sanji’s Soulmark. Gonna share or what?” Nami smirked at him.
He restrained his desire to flip her off. “My Soulmark placement is a little weird.”
“Come on — Zoro — we’re your crew,” Luffy encouraged. Zoro felt defanged by his tone.
“Just remember that I warned you.” He stood and started to unbutton his pants.
Sanji raised a hand and said, “Hey! I don’t need to see—”
Zoro rolled his eyes. “Relax, I’m not taking off my underwear, you prude.”
He dragged his pants halfway down his thighs. The snug material beneath didn’t leave much to the imagination, though. His right thigh had the stark grayscale Soulmark. It appeared to be a plate with a knife and fork. The knife pointed toward his hip while the fork was perfectly perpendicular where it kind of pointed toward his other leg. He trailed his fingertips over it with a reverence that contradicted his earlier attitude.
“Satisfied?”
Usopp twisted his mouth in thought. “I’m guessing a servant or waitstaff.”
“That’ll really narrow it down,” Zoro drawled.
“Maybe it’s a butcher,” Nami submitted.
Luffy excitedly added, “What about someone who travels the world to try cuisine?”
“Could be a chef,” Sanji chimed in with a shit-eating grin.
“You’d just find that so funny, shit cook.”
“I would, yeah.”
“Why is the silverware placed like that? Like clock hands,” Nami observed.
Zoro responded, “I’m not sure that means anything.”
“Three o’clock!” Luffy adjoined, “Snack time! It makes sense.”
Nami puffed a short laugh. “Leave it to you, Luffy.”
“I hate to say it,” Zoro confessed, “but I actually understand the cook about painful Soulmarks.”
Sanji whipped around to stare at him askance. “Is that so?”
“Yeah. It hurt like a motherfucker when I got it.” Zoro described, “Felt like being stabbed and a sick fuck was twisting the blade in the wound.”
“Damn,” Nami said. “Was this recent or — when did it happen?”
Zoro paused and dragged a finger along the outline of the knife. He yanked up his pants and answered, “I was six years old.”
“You were just a little kid.” Usopp goggled after his horrified whisper.
“I thought it was someone I knew — at first — but she died before I checked, and for years I didn’t want to look and confirm anything,” Zoro imparted. “Then I did, and — when it wasn’t black — I don’t think I had met them though.”
Luffy tapped his chin. “That’s so unusual. How do you know?”
“I had a reclusive life as a young child,” Zoro said. “The only people I had been around at that time was my teacher and the other students. I asked them all after Kui — uh — my friend passed. None of the other kids had a Soulmark yet.”
No one pointed out that he hadn’t mentioned a family.
“That means the Soul Bond was really desperate to reach you,” Nami concluded.
“It wasn’t just its arrival that hurt me either,” Zoro went on. “There were — several — flare ups. Sometimes, I would also feel really sad, angry, or scared for no reason. That poor kid was going through some fucked up shit.”
“No kidding,” Nami breathed.
“It lasted about three years from the start and stopped for a while, then I got stomach cramps which left me bedridden for a time — that was after my friend died — only for them to suddenly vanish. I haven’t felt much from it for years, so I guess they’re at least doing better now,” Zoro tacked on.
“How do you know they were a child?” The inquiry rose from Sanji.
“I had some strange dreams — rare occurrence between soulmates — that were too hazy for me to figure much out, but I could see that they were small, like me,” Zoro explained.
“I’m sorry, Zoro,” Luffy said.
Zoro took a deep chug of alcohol. “I hated it. I felt powerless. As soon as it was possible, I tried like hell to find them, but this soulmate shit is fucked. We could’ve crossed paths, and I didn’t have a clue in part because the stupid thing broke the rules.”
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There was a lot to absorb after their Whisky Peak adventure. Vivi was a wayward princess, Nami’s soulmate, and they — mostly through Luffy — had agreed to help her. Nami had been evasive, but Zoro got the sense that though the Soulmark by her clavicle had gained color, it was unclear whether their relationship would be platonic or romantic. It brought Zoro to further contemplating his own. Whenever he dared wonder, he wasn’t sure how a soulmate — if located — would even fit into his life. It was starting to feel more possible than he had originally assumed.
The following day found Zoro lightly dozing in the dining area until Sanji slipped into the galley. He began lunch preparations. Zoro watched through half-lidded eyes. His gaze often locked — without conscious decision — onto Sanji’s right bicep where his Soulmark was hidden.
“If you want to have another look, just ask me,” Sanji declared. Zoro startled.
“I — sorry, cook. I was being inappropriate.”
“You’re apologizing to me, Mosshead? Ha. Don’t worry, and I’m not bothered.” Sanji gestured at Zoro to join him in the kitchen.
Zoro reluctantly approached. It felt like some strange trap. Sanji set aside his things and shrugged out of his shirt. He folded and placed it on a corner section of the counter. He quietly continued his work as Zoro stared at him. It would be embarrassing if anyone knew how badly he wanted to touch him — no, his Soulmark.
“It really is divine — your Soulmark,” Zoro softly divulged.
There was the slightest hitch in Sanji’s ministrations. “Okay, just admit it. You’re jealous as hell, man.”
“Fuck off.”
“For what it’s worth, I like your Soulmark. It’s stylish in an understated way. This probably doesn’t interest you, but the number three — if the cutlery are meant to be like clock hands — could represent balance, prosperity, and fullness. It’s deeper than it looks,” Sanji offered.
Zoro glared at him. “Now it sounds like you want to trade. Stupid cook.”
“Oi, no need to be rude,” Sanji admonished. “For your information — since I’m sure you’re uncultured — they’re a bonin’ knife and a carvin’ fork. Suited to your violent nature, but it might suggest your soulmate can match your passion in their own way.”
“I don’t remember when I told you that I give a shit.”
“I’m just trying to help you because we’re friends and all. Bastard.”
“We’re friends?”
Sanji stopped slicing to look at him with furrowed eyebrows. “Yes? Were you under a different impression?”
“Stuck on a crew for the sake of Luffy and our dreams. End of story.”
Sanji brought his knife down on the next swing a little hard. “Is that all I am to you? A crewmate?”
“No.”
“Well, there you have it.”
“Doesn’t mean I want you in my business about my fucking Soulmark,” Zoro groused weakly and crossed his arms. Sanji chuckled.
“Whatever you say, Mosshead.”
Suddenly, a few things clicked in his mind. “When did you say you got your Soulmark?”
Sanji bit down on his lip in thought, then he replied, “Mornin’ after you lot left the Baratie. It was quite a shock, you can imagine.”
“Did it just hurt when it appeared or — later?”
“Actually, I forgot to mention that I continued to have this sort of dull ache in my arm and chest until shortly before I boarded the Merry — again — when she casted off,” Sanji answered. What an incredible coincidence, Zoro thought. Or maybe not?
“Hm.”
“I can hear your cogs grindin’ under the moss. Don’t hurt yourself,” Sanji said as he completed the plates with a flourish.
“Can you write down your name for me?”
Sanji gave him an odd look. “What?”
“Just do it.”
Sanji stared at him a moment longer. He put his shirt back on. He didn’t need the rest of the crew to think he was having sex with Zoro — and in the galley no less — then located a stack of paper he used to take notes on his experimental creations.
Sanji Vins — He swiftly crossed out the surname in a sharp motion before it was completed.
“Not in Common — dumbass — Easternography.”
“You could’ve told me, idiot Mossball.” As he neatly scratched the characters he complained, “Bold of you to presume I know it.”
三児
Zoro muttered, “Nice penmanship.”
“Thanks,” Sanji replied.
“Why wouldn’t you know it?” Zoro questioned, “You’ve lived on the East most of your life — or not?”
“I’m a little rusty,” Sanji confessed. “I primarily used Common for readin’ and writin’ after I went to sea.”
Zoro snatched the pencil and wrote another set of characters below. Sanji looked over his shoulder with a small perplexed smile.
三時
“Pronounce this out loud for me,” Zoro said and pointed at the second set.
“San-ji,” he announced. “Wait — that’s —”
“What do these characters mean together?”
“Obviously, the first character is — san — three. This other one — time? — yeah. So — three on the clock? I think.”
Something tightened like a knot in his chest, but Sanji’s expression suggested he remained oblivious. He indicated Sanji’s written name. “So this is three and son. Were you the third son of your family?”
“Well, yeah.”
“Son. Rhymes with sun — the one in the sky — which is round like a plate. The sun is above and is highest at noon, often lunch time,” Zoro distractedly rambled aloud and at the same time scrawled his thoughts underneath. “When were you born?”
“You’re full of questions today.” Sanji eyed him with speculation.
“I’m just making conversation,” Zoro said, a little too quick.
“That’s not like you. Anyway, I was born on March second.”
“March. Third month.” He jotted down — Ji can also indicate 2 with another character, but the supposed clock is missing a seconds hand. But it has two hands.
“That’s what I said. Get the moss out of your ears.” Sanji curiously pinched the edge of the paper. “Why are you writing about clocks?”
“Fuck my life,” Zoro muttered under his breath. Fork has two prongs and points at three. Zoro felt he was starting to look too far into it. There was more than enough proof.
“What was that?”
“One more thing. What was your childhood like before the Baratie?”
Sanji promptly dropped the knife he’d been about to put in the sink, and it bounced off his shoe to slide across the floor. He stiffened like a statue. “No. We’re not discussin’ that, okay?”
“What do you—”
“Don’t go there, Zoro. Just don’t fuckin’ go there.”
Zoro took a deep breath. He wanted to reach more certainty before he revealed anything, but he had to know. Crossroads diverged ahead of him. He chose the sharper turn.
“Cook — I mean. Sanji, we might be soulmates.”
Sanji barked a laugh that had an odd edge. “That’s a good one, Mosshead!”
“It’s not a fucking joke,” Zoro disputed with a dangerous sharpness to his own tone.
Sanji burst out, “I shouldn’t even have a fuckin’ soulmate! My siblings and I were supposed to be genetically modified which precluded the highly emotional possession of a mark, but here I am with one. Fuckin’ different, always somethin’ wrong with—”
“Shut up! Fuck do you mean genetically — you know what — nevermind. That’s probably a long story. If you don’t want me as your soulmate just fucking tell me that and we can move on,” Zoro snarled.
“I didn’t say I didn’t want you,” Sanji exploded. “Do you have any idea how fuckin’ through the roof thrilled I was to receive my Soulmark even though it hurt like a bitch? Moron!”
“Prove it, asshole.” Zoro hauled him in by the collar and smashed their lips together.
For a moment, he might as well have smooched a brick wall. Then, Sanji hooked an arm around his neck and changed the angle to deepen the liplock. Zoro moaned when he tasted Sanji’s eager tongue snaking into his mouth. The counter dug into his back as Sanji hungrily kissed him. He almost didn’t notice the warm sensation that bloomed on his inner thigh. He moved his left hand to Sanji’s upper arm and stroked him.
His hand was knocked away as Sanji stripped off his shirt without breaking their kiss. Zoro dropped his pants even while Sanji continued to thrust his tongue past Zoro’s lips in a manner that was causing his dick to be slowly stirred. He prayed that nobody disturbed them. He grasped Sanji by the waist and shoved him away. Sanji panted with one hand placed on his chest. Zoro cupped his elbow and lost the ability to breathe.
There was the undeniable likeness of the Wadō Ichimonji in its glory, except for three vibrant marimos framing the pommel. He and Sanji looked down to Zoro’s Soulmark at the same time. It was a splash of color with the shiny silver cutlery and a blue plate with gold flecks beneath. The golden lines were particularly arranged at the tips of the knife and fork in the shape of the characters for twelve and three. They had not been visible when the mark was dormant. Their fingers found each other’s Soulmarks to draw meaningless patterns.
“Fuck me,” Zoro breathed once he regained some of his wits. It wasn’t meant as an invitation, but Sanji apparently couldn’t resist the chance to flirt.
“One step at a time, beautiful.”
Forgetting everything and everybody else in the world, Zoro captured his lips again. The entire rest of the crew walked in on them. They grabbed plates topped with food — as a silent collective — and slinked out unnoticed.
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