Chapter Text
Sanji’s POV
Sanji was fucked.
Well and truly.
Being a prince of Germa essentially meant he was fucked from birth, especially since he was never like his genetically modified brothers, but now he was more fucked than he had been in a long time.
Germa and the surrounding countries had a long-standing tradition, one that encouraged a long lineage of fighters and strength.
Every 2 years, a tournament of strength would be held in the Capitol. Anyone was allowed to enter, and the winner would win a prize. Not berries or food or land, but rather a hand in marriage to one of the noble houses. A union of strength and standing, one that ensures that the might of the North Blue lives on, both on land and sea.
This year, the pot was made exceptionally sweet, as the Vinsmoke family was to offer up one of their sons. They were of age, and with the eldest, Reiju, being in line for the throne and thus not qualifying for this tradition, everyone was excited to see who would be the bride.
Would it be Ichiji, the eldest? He was known to be ruthless and ready for any challenge. Maybe Niji, whose blue hair stood out and was always ready for a fight. Perhaps it would be the youngest, Yonji. His green hair and desire for fun would make him an energetic match.
‘Yeah,’ Sanji thought, ‘as if anyone would actually believe that crap if they actually met his brothers.’
As the third Vinsmoke brother and the fourth born overall, Sanji has known from a very young age that his family was full of liars.
Germa is, primarily, a sea-faring nation, one that only has an occasional base every 4th or 5th island in the North Blue. They are known for their military might, scientific discoveries, and general disregard for their neighboring countries. No one even expected them to participate in this tournament, due to their already sizable strength and borders so closed that you couldn't even find them at times. At least, until Monkey D. Luffy became king of the Pirates.
In the grand scheme of things, the fact that a no-name upstart from 7 years ago could become King of the Pirates so quickly and at such a young age was preposterous and terrifying to say the least. And yet, the seas were calm, and a claim was set on them. Germa was no longer welcome on the seas. At least, that’s what Vinsmoke Judge has declared for his nation. They still had naval might, but were now stationary and, apparently, willing to take up old traditions.
Sanji threw down the newspaper, the cover story a special exposé on the blond Vinsmoke son and his skills, likes, and general personality. Most of, if not all of it, lies conjured up by the reporter and whoever Judge ordered to get this story published.
“Vinsmoke Sanji,” ‘lie,’ “is a man of delicate tastes,” ‘lie,’ “and possesses many talents, like cooking and cleaning,” ‘not 100% a lie,’ “Though strength is something he doesn’t possess,” ‘lie,’ “he would make a wonderful match for those worthy and willing enough to see it through,” ‘lie.’
And on and on it goes. ‘What a bunch of crap,’ Sanji thought, turning to look at the room he was allowed in preparation of this stupid scheme Judge has cooked up. It was the nicest cage he’s been allowed to stay in, though it wouldn’t be for long. The first day of the tournament was just getting started, the sounds of the crowds and festivities already echoing from over a mile away and filtering through the balcony doors he had left open. Sanji was, of course, not allowed to go to the tournament, so no one would see him before he won.
‘It’s so we actually have people competing in the tournament,’ Niji’s cruel voice rang out in Sanji’s head, ‘if they take one look at you and see how weak and ugly you are, no one would want to fight, and then there would be no entertainment.’
Regardless, the festival seemed like fun, even if it would lead to the end of Sanji’s life. The smells in the air held the promise of food. Sweets and meat, luxuries Sanji hasn’t always been privy to. He could picture just how the chefs would prepare these wonderful meals and treats. Perhaps combining methods would be how to candy meat, or even make a meat-tasting candy. Maybe, if he were to-
The door creaking open disturbed his train of thought. He thought his family had left for the tournament, so he was surprised when he faced the door and found his sister’s blank face staring back at him. She was always so quiet; letting the door creak must mean she had something important to tell him.
Bracing himself, Sanji lit up a smoke he stole from one of the servants. If Reiju knew of his habit, then she never mentioned it to him. He didn’t care. In less than a week, he’d be sold off to some poor fuck, and that was that.
At least he’d get to leave this fucking place.
Reiju joined him on the balcony. “I came from the tournament.”
Sanji raised a curly eyebrow, “Oh? And how are the festivities that will lead to my doom? Full of stuck-up assholes and testosterone who just want to sweat and kill each other? I bet Judge is happy to finally be rid of me.”
Reiju’s face didn’t even twitch, stoic as always. “There are quite a few contenders. The Vinsmoke name has inspired quite the turnout, as we knew it would.”
Sanji snorted at that, “I’m not a Vinsmoke, Reiju. Your father has had that drilled into me since I was born, and just because some uppity reporter Judge paid off to write that stupid exposé that made me sound like some damsel housewife doesn’t make it true either.”
Reiju blinked. Sanji was surprised to get that much of a reaction out of her.
He took another drag, the nicotine calming him down, though his hands wouldn’t stop shaking.
“Why are you here, Reiju?”
He felt her take a few steps forward, but he didn’t turn around. Not wanting her to see how worked up he got over just a few words. That never ended well.
“I came to inform you that Roronoa Zoro, the right hand and Commander General to the King of the Pirates, has won the tournament and is to be your husband.”
This made every nerve in Sanji’s body stand still.
“What?”
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Zoro’s POV
Roronoa Zoro was a man who always went after what he wanted.
Become the world’s strongest swordsman? Done.
Help Luffy become King of the Pirates? Been there, done that.
He’s never been concerned with what society or anyone else thinks he should be or be doing. Zoro was always Zoro, and that was that. It is what made him able to accomplish his goals, and is something he prides himself on.
It’s something he learned from an old friend a long time ago. That no matter what the situation, you have to be yourself and never change, otherwise, what was the point of your goals?
He was pulled from his musings by Usopp clapping a hand on his shoulder.
“We’ll dock in about an hour.”
Zoro grunted in response, gaze lingering on the town that looked too clean, too full of pride, too new.
‘So,’ he thought, ‘this is Germa 66?’
Luffy was surprised by Zoro’s request to go to Germa. Once he learned of the tournament and festival, though, he tried to come up with an excuse to join Zoro, but Law put a stop to that. Trafalgar Law is an advisor, in a sense, to Luffy, though he would be the first to deny that. Their relationship was too complicated for Zoro to care about beyond a professional level, but he was sure they were good for each other in the way they pushed one another to their limits.
That was another thing that Zoro craved, especially when he and Luffy first started. A balance. Someone who could fight with him and keep up. Someone who knew what his next move was going to be before he did, and could watch his back as he fought. He had to learn quickly how to do that for himself and for those weaker than him on the crew. There were too many injuries, too many close calls for comfort.
Zoro grew strong out of necessity and desire. Everyone in the world knows it and is afraid.
Even Usopp, but by now, the man was much bolder than the teen Zoro had first met.
“I still think this is a bad idea, Zoro. I know you like to prove your might, but you do know the prize of this tournament, right? It’s unethical. Completely the opposite of what Luffy is trying to make as King of the Pirates.”
Zoro turned away, another grunt forcing its way through his chest as he considered what Usopp was saying.
Usopp deflated a little. Trying to read Zoro’s mind was sure to give him and anyone else who tried a headache. Who knew what went on in there?
“Alright, but you’re gonna have to explain this to Nami when we get back to the Sunny. I don’t even want to know how many berry she’s going to charge you. And a prince of Germa at that?! I thought we hated these guys? Why are we doing this?”
Zoro kept his gaze on the ever-approaching island, judging the distance.
“Because I want to.”
Usopp groaned, dragging both hands down his face. “That’s not a reason, that’s a threat.”
Zoro didn’t respond. He didn’t need to.
The wind shifted, carrying the scent of the island towards them. Salt. Metal. Something too clean to be natural. Manufactured and controlled. It made something deep in his gut twist, though he couldn’t say why. After traveling and doing as much as he has, Zoro has learned to trust that feeling.
Germa was a place he’d heard about plenty of times before. Soldiers without emotion. A king who treated his blood like tools, yet played the part of a doting father. Strength above all else, but not the kind Zoro respected.
It wasn’t earned. He didn’t bleed for it. Zoro wondered if there would even be any strength behind a punch Vinsmoke Judge could throw.
He glared down at his hand that was resting on Wado. Scars and promises filled his vision.
His mind, uninvited, dragged him back to a girl with short black hair and a wooden sword standing across from him with a grin that promised a fight to the death.
“If you lose, you can never challenge me again.”
“Then I won’t lose.”
Zoro exhaled slowly through his nose.
He hadn’t.
Not really.
Not in the way that mattered.
That promise was the start of everything. Of his life. Every drop of blood, every swing of his blade, every purpose he found. Each one is a step towards becoming the strongest. It wasn’t just about winning. It was about proving something real.
Something that only he could get.
His eyes narrowed slightly as the island grew larger.
And now this.
A tournament where strength was paraded, judged, and rewarded-
-with a person.
Usopp wasn’t wrong; it was twisted. The kind of thing Luffy would laugh off at first and then punch through once he understood it.
Zoro understood it just fine.
Which was exactly why he was here.
“You’re thinking too hard again,” Usopp muttered, peeking at him. “That’s never a good sign.”
Zoro huffed, almost unamused. “I’m not.”
“That’s worse!”
Zoro ignored him. The truth was simple, even if Usopp couldn’t understand or like it.
The truth was, Zoro didn’t care about politics. He didn’t care about traditions, or the pride of countries, or whatever message this tournament was supposed to send.
But he did care about strength being turned into something cheap.
He cared about the face of the man who was supposed to be the prize.
Zoro's moral or any compass in his vicinity never really pointed north, but being here felt right. A memory that stuck with him far longer than it had any reason to. And finally, he found the person on the other end of it.
Zoro has spent years carving himself into something unbreakable, something defined by clear goals and even clearer lines. Become the strongest. Protect his captain. Cut down anything that stood in their way.
But there was a memory from before then. One that helped form the person he is now...
It wasn’t a fight or a lesson or even something that he could measure.
Quiet. Steady. Unmoving.
Like a hand on his back pushing him forward that never really left.
Zoro clicked his tongue, jaw tightening slightly.
How annoying.
“Oi,” Usopp’s voice cut in again, cautious this time. “You’ve been doing that thing where you look like you’re about to fight the air for the past ten minutes.”
Zoro didn’t look at him. “Shut up.”
“That’s not reassuring!”
The island was close now. Close enough that Zoro could start picking out individual structures. Sharp lines, polished surfaces, everything built with intention. There was no wasted space, no softness.
His grip shifted on Wado’s hilt. It reminded him of a hospital. Of a courtyard full of air. Of a kitchen that felt safe.
Of a pair of hands that were far too strong for a being that was far too fragile.
“...Tch.”
“Okay, that’s it,” Usopp said, stepping in front of him now. “You’re either having a life-changing realization, or you’re about to do something incredibly stupid, and I need to know which one it is before we dock.”
Zoro’s gaze flicked to him, unimpressed.
“Move.”
Usopp didn’t; his bravery showed through. “No.”
For a moment, they just stared at each other.
Then Zoro sighed. Low and irritated. He loved his crew, but some days it paid for people to actually be scared of him.
“...You ever remember something,” he started, voice rougher than usual, “and not know why it stuck?”
Usopp blinked.
“...Yeah?”
Zoro looked past him, back towards the island.
“I knew someone once. As kids. He said something once that’s stuck with me. Through everything. I think I’m gonna find him on Germa.”
Usopp nodded, face not showing understanding but acceptance. “What happened to him?”
Zoro didn’t answer right away. The island crept ever closer.
“I don’t know,” he said. Softer.
Usopp studied him. Zoro had always seemed to be missing something. He had purpose and support, but he shouldered their travels as if they were his alone to accomplish at times. Usopp knew he wasn’t the strongest, wasn’t the bravest, and wasn’t enough for Zoro as a fighting companion. The gap between them was too great, but it was one that Usopp always knew would be there.
Usopp didn’t want to be the best at anything. Not really. It was something that just came to him once their goals were met. And he made his peace with that.
It didn’t stop him or the rest of the Strawhats from worrying for Zoro.
So he didn’t push. Just accepted what Zoro was going to do next. Like always.
“Then let's go find him.”
Zoro glanced at him, gaze sharpening the longer he took the sniper in.
“No.”
Usopp jolted at this. “Why the fuck not?”
Zoro exhaled heavily through his nose, mask falling in place as he glared at the dock that was coming closer.
“I’m here because they’re turning people into prizes,” he said instead. “Because they think strength gives them that right.”
That part was a truth that he could stand on. Something easy. Simple. Something Luffy would approve of.
But under that truth, he knew why he was actually here. It was harder to name, to say out loud.
Zoro’s grip tightened on his swords.
“...And if the person they picked doesn’t want it,” he added, voice low, “then I’ll deal with it.”
Usopp frowned. “Deal with it how?”
Zoro didn’t answer right away, guilt almost threatening to creep up on him.
His gaze became measured and sharp.
“I’ll take the win,” he said finally.
Usopp blinked. “Yeah, I figured that part out-”
Zoro cut him off.
“Means I’ll get the prize.”
That made Usopp pause.
“The prize?”
Zoro’s fingers shifted slightly against the hilt of his sword.
“Germa doesn’t get to keep what they put up as a prize,” he said, tone flat. “Not if I’m the one holding the leash after.”
Usopp stared at him like he had grown a second head. “You’re talking about a person, Zoro.”
“I know.”
And he did. That was the problem.
“I’ll go through with it. All of it. If that’s what it takes to get him off that island and away from here.
Usopp’s eyes widened. “You’re serious? Why not just level the place? We’ve done it before, we can-”
“No. That needs to be his choice. I doubt anything’s been his choice for a long time.”
It was quiet, the sound of the waves hitting the ship the only thing passing between the two.
Finally, Usopp’s voice cut through the tension.
“Well. Okay then. But Nami’s going to be pissed when she hears you married a prince of Germa.”
Zoro just grunted.
The island grew closer. The plan is ringing through Zoro’s head.
Win the tournament.
Get him out.
Put the choice back in his hands.
And if anyone tried to take that from him-
Zoro’s grip tightened, knuckles whitening then relaxing.
Then they’d learn exactly what kind of strength the right hand of the Sun God possesses.