Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

Well, it's going to be really hard to explain this one to Nami.

It's not his fault though. How was he supposed to know that this castle is built like a fucking maze? One minute he's fighting that green headed bastard and the next he’s thrown into a wall which flips in on itself- like some bizarre carnival ride. It doesn't even make sense- he was sure there was a garden behind the east side of the castle.

Regardless, he's trapped inside the passage. That much is clear, proven by the meek dents his swords managed to etch into the thick stone. There's no button, either. No clever mechanism to make the door open back up again. That leaves only one option- walking down the long, creepy hallway behind him.

He turns around. Stares at the cobwebs and the rotting, moldy bricks. Just his fucking luck that he'd get trapped inside some weird, haunted hallway- it almost makes him think one of Perona’s ghosts is about to pop out.

Zoro shudders at the thought and tentatively grabs one of the torches from off the wall- a sad looking lantern that flickers as if it's running out of fuel. Still- it does inform him of a few things. Mainly that someone was here not long ago, walking down the same passage he's about to- and that whatever is at the end of this hallway, Germa 66 wants hidden.

Locked away.

Ultimately, it doesn't matter what is at the end of this hallway. Be it treasure or a dead end, Zoro has no choice but to head down it and find out for himself.

No way but forward, then.

He begins to walk and as he does, his footsteps echo across the narrow hallway. Rhythmic, Brook would say. Uneven is more what Zoro would describe them as. His leg is aching from when that fucker managed to land a kick onto his thigh- he's not doubting the hit probably fractured bone. If he can give credit to these Germa bastards for one thing, it's their strength.

He hopes everyone else is okay. He doesn't doubt Luffy, never will, but he still can't help worrying.

As he heads deeper and deeper into the corridor the damp smell becomes all the more apparent. The torches, however, become brighter- as if whoever was down here kept lighting them up one by one headed down the hallway. A minute of walking turns into two, then five. Soon, he reaches an opening- a dark room which upon pointing his lantern at, Zoro finds to contain a matching pair of doors.

Left and right.

He doesn't think about it. He just opens the left door instinctively, and allows the flame to guide his way.

There's steps this time. A staircase, descending deep into the earth. Quickly, a lump forms inside his throat- one he can't seem to swallow down. It's just that this place feels haunted, not in a ghost way, more like- sadness. Pain. Years of anguish.

Considering their enemies, he doesn't doubt it.

The steps are slippery at best, downright murderous at worst. The stones are uneven and worn down over the years- slippery too, like marble. He treads carefully, making the best use of his quickly dimming lantern as he can.

As he heads deeper into the earth, Zoro wonders how Usopp would react to this place. Nami. Thinking back on Thriller Bark, it probably would go over too well.

At the base of the stairwell sits a worn, wooden door. He slashes once, and the handle clanks against the floor- a sharp loud sound. The door slowly creaks open, rusty hinges causing his heart to jump all the more.

He cranes his head, peeks through the crack. Sure enough it's dark inside, but he can just make out the details of a large room with prison cells lining its long walls- all empty.

The lantern’s spark bounces off the walls, revealing rotting, molded stones and leftover crates from however long ago.

There's nothing. The cells are all empty. At least that's what it seems like at first. Because as he heads deeper into the room, something strange catches his attention. The smell of dampness quickly retreats, and something else begins to tug on Zoro's senses- the unmistakable, nostalgic scent of freshly baked bread.

What the hell?

For a second, he wonders if all the times his head got knocked around today had lingering effects. There's just no way a kitchen is down here, sitting among prison cells. And even if it is, who would be mad enough to cook bread amongst all this chaos? It has to be something else. Some..chemical reaction. Something about yeast- explosions, maybe.

His curiosity gets the better of him. He decides to follow the smell, and realizes the closer he gets, the hotter the room becomes.

Like an oven was being used.

At the far end of the room the smell is most prominent, almost overwhelming. He recognizes the spice, the sesame. The smells are all distinct, and hiding among them is a clear outlier- the smoky tinge of a recently put out candle.

A flare of haki confirms his suspicions. Still, Zoro doesn't immediately act.

He swallows. Stares into the dark cage, the outlines of the furniture. He's sure that there's a countertop, somewhere in the back left of the cell. A bed on the right.

“Anyone there?”

He doesn't expect a response, but feels like he has to ask- if not for politeness, then for some strange obligation. Because whoever is down here must be an enemy of Germa. The enemy of my enemy is my friend, and all that. He never believed in that crap, but still. How bad could this person be if they'd taken up baking while imprisoned by an evil army?

He steps closer to the steel bars on the front of the cell. There, he raises his lantern to illuminate its contents.

It's definitely..homely.

Not only is there a fresh loaf of bread on the counter, but an assortment of other baked goods as well. Cupcakes, pastries- all decorated with frills and niceties. The dishes seem to be done, and every surface looks meticulously cleaned. It's a bizarre contrast to the rest of the dungeon, which is basically starting to cave in on itself from the rot alone.

The rest of the cell is decorated as well. There's a bookshelf stuffed with thick tomes- some placed in a stack on the side as if they didn't fit into its shelves. On the opposite side of the kitchen is a bed- tucked into the corner and covered by heavy looking blankets. Woven, maybe. Frayed.

The sink has a container for soap and the porcelain on the toilet looks shiny, as if recently polished.

What the hell kind of prison is this?

“I won't hurt you. We're- my and my crew, we’re fighting Germa.”

Still no answer.

Something catches his eye. There, on the foot of the bed, sits a chest. A heavy looking thing with golden latches and dark, stained wood.

Treasure. That will definitely get Nami off his back.

Whatever. If the person in there is so scared of him that they're hiding, it means he will be fine going inside. He'll take whatever is in the chest and leave the cell open for them to get out.

“I'm coming in. I won't hurt you but I'm taking whatever's in the chest. Stay or leave- it's your choice.”

He announces, and makes quick work of slashing a hole into the bars of the cell. Zoro steps through and places the dim lantern on the floor next to the chest- before cutting open the lock and kicking open the top of it.

He expects gold- coins, jewelry maybe. Not that it makes any sense, but it's what his brain conjures up in the haze of everything strange that has happened today. In reality, the only thing tucked away inside the chest is..books.

More fucking books. Great.

He might as well check them out, he thinks. Might be useful for Chopper or Robin.

The first book he picks up appears old, the paper yellowed and the edges worn. It's hard to make out in the dark, but by running his hand across it, Zoro's able to read the embroidered letters on its fabric cover.

“The All blue.”

The words linger on his tongue, the title feeling more like a confession than anything. There's something about the book that stands out to him- some strange intuition telling him it's more important than it seems.

The lantern flickers.

“Put it down.”

The knife registers first, the voice second. He raises his head and sure enough, there's a man standing above him- an outstretched hand pointing a cooking knife directly at his face.

Darkness makes it impossible to see his features. Only the glint of a blue eye can be seen inside the black- but it looks more scared than anything. The grip on the knife is weak- shaking and vertical, the hold more akin to cooking than fighting.

It only takes a single, sharp movement to disarm him and cause the knife to skid to the far edge of the room. He doesn't even have to draw his swords, the element of surprise doing most of the work for him. The blade clatters as it knocks against stone, the light shaking weakly.

All that's left is a hand hovering mid air, and the shaking figure it belongs to.

Zoro thinks for a moment. He takes in the ratty clothes and dirty fingernails and worn socks. The knees almost buckling under the weight of the body they belong to.

This guy isn't a threat. He's just..scared. Hell, Zoro would be too if some stranger showed up and started searching through his stuff.

He really fucked up, didn't he?

“Don’t..be scared. I'm sorry for looking. Here.”

He puts the book back down. Closes the chest too, just to make sure the guy won't think he's bluffing.

Zoro grabs the lantern and picks himself up.

That's when he sees it. Now that the light is closer to the guy’s head, it's clear there's something..around it. Some kind of helmet-looking thing. It looks old, unpolished, heavy.

“They captured you?”

He watches as panic flashes in the stranger's eyes. For a moment, he just stands there, frozen. Then he lets his arm drop by his side, fist clenched.

“No.”

“Kidnapped?”

“No.”

He doesn't have time for this.

With nothing left to say, Zoro paces to the edge of the cell, to the hole which he cut open previously.

He tells himself it's not his problem. They can't just help every random person who happens upon their way- they have a mission to fulfill, and a time sensitive one at that. But..he looks back. Something about this guy- the fact that he stood up to Zoro even when he was scared to do so-

Brave.

He clicks his tongue in annoyance.

“Are you coming or what? This ship..snail is going down.”

He expects fear. Confusion. It is quite a sudden thing to spring up on someone, the fact that they could all drown if they don't start hauling ass soon. But as he looks, and looks carefully, there's no trace of fear in the stranger's eyes. Not anymore. Just a quiet resignation.

“I can't.”

There's something about those two words- the sheer sadness in which they're spoken- it causes something inside him to twist.

Somewhere -far away- an explosion sounds out. The ship tilts and they both gasp- the stones groaning from the impact.

Patience runs thin. Zoro turns again, but his hand stays gripped onto the bars.

“What are you talking about? Come on already.”

The stranger ignores him completely.

“Please just leave. Let this end.”

He doesn't understand. He wonders if that's somehow his fault, or if he's missing information that would be impossible for him to know.

Still- Zoro knows one thing. When he looks into the stranger's ocean eyes, he can see the untold truth, clear as a reflection on the water.

“You don't want to die.”

It's a simple observation. A statement of fact. And yet it causes the man to flinch back, surprised.

“And how would you know that?”

“ ‘cause. If you really wanted to, you wouldn't be shaking. You're scared.”

The stranger shakes his head, a slow, sluggish movement.

“It doesn't matter. All of us need to die. No trace left behind. It's the only way for the world to be free. For me, too.”

He considers this. Though Zoro doesn't understand the logic, he understands pain. And this stranger is clearly brimming full of it. Maybe..maybe it would be a mercy to let him die here, like he asked for.

The ground begins trembling. Loud groaning can be heard throughout the dungeon, as if the foundation of the building is beginning to collapse in on itself.

He swallows, then makes his decision.

“Sorry. My captain would kick my ass if he knew I left you here.”

“Wha-”

He places the handle of the lantern between his teeth, then hauls the man over his shoulder with one quick movement. He's heavier than Zoro expected, but that makes sense considering the metal strapped to his head.

“You fucking- let go of me-!”

Pain erupts from his shoulder as the guy begins to hit him- his fists clumsy but surprisingly tough. For how scrawny this guy looks, it's a wonder he can pack a punch at all- let alone one that causes Zoro to wince. Still, he ignores the pain and stumbles out of the cell. It's hard to navigate, a combination of the dark, the pain in his leg and now his shoulder causing him to knock into fallen debris several times.

The guy tires himself out by the time Zoro has found the stairs. He's all but given up in his attempt to escape and allows Zoro to carry him- whether it's from exhaustion or acceptance- it's hard to tell.

He's able to let go of the lantern eventually, having reached the tunnel whose entrance has thankfully collapsed, allowing passage into the outside world once more. As Zoro walks towards the light, an impulse tugs at him- and the words leave his mouth before he realizes what he's said.

“Giving up?”

His leg burns from the pain- but he continues to go up anyway.

“Yeah.”

Something about the finality of it causes his chest to tighten- a weird, unexplainable emotion.

“What’s it matter to me if you sell me off. I'll just be trading one cage for another.”

The words are so absurd, he struggles to understand what they even mean at first. But he pieces it together soon enough- and the realization haunts him.

“This isn't- I'm not kidnapping you!”

Okay, maybe that wasn't the best way to go about saying it. He's barely able to convince himself with that tone. Still- what kind of life has this guy lived that he's so pessimistic? It's angering, yeah, but more depressing than anything.

“Oh? You could've fooled me.”

Oh, fuck this guy.

“And here I was feeling bad for you. You're just a snarky dick, aren't you?”

The man clicks his tongue. He doesn't respond at first, and the atmosphere turns back into something subdued, solemn.

“Yeah.”

They reach the outside before Zoro has a chance to take in the words. There, in the hallway he previously fought Greeny in, is now none other than Nami and Usopp- looking worse for wear. Their bodies are slumped against each other, their skin bruised and their clothes tattered.

He stands frozen for a second, taking in the scene. The broken pillars and smashed tiles but mainly, the huge crater which houses the green one’s charred body. Smoke drifts along the wind- surely a byproduct of Nami's work.

“Hey, the green one was supposed to be mine.”

For a second, there's nothing but silence. Then, before he knows it- two voices scream out in unison.

“Zoro?!”

He winces and so does the guy propped onto his shoulder. It's too late when he realizes the pair is standing before him- beaten but victorious- and angrier than ever.

“You asshole! You just left-”

“Did you get lost again-”

Their voices overlap, but their silence does so as well. It lasts only a few seconds- before Usopp opens his mouth to speak.

“Uh- who..who is that?”

That's a good question, one he never quite got the answer to.

Maybe..he should put the guy down. It doesn't feel like he's going to run for it, but it doesn't matter to Zoro what he does, anyway- as long as he doesn't die in that cold, sad dungeon.

He places the man down onto the ground again, helping him remain stable when his knees tremble slightly. The guy turns around and stares at his two crewmates warily.

“I'm..my name is Sanji.”

It's a strange interaction at best, as Nami and Usopp take in the disheveled state of the man- Sanji, apparently, standing before them. They don't say anything, and he feels as though he needs to speak to soften the impact.

“I found him in the dungeon.”

That seems to spark some understanding in their eyes. Nami smiles politely, and Usopp follows.

“I’m Nami. Nice to meet you, Sanji. Now- sorry if this is rude, but we better get outta here soon. The building is going to collapse.”

It doesn't seem like Sanji is particularly interested in her words. His gaze remains fixed to the outside instead- to the gap in the wall formed by the impact of the battle.

They make a break for it. The building crumbles around them- and he has to wonder what the hell Luffy is doing for things to turn into such a shitshow so fast. Well- a bigger shitshow than usual. It's a slow escape- between his fucked up leg, Sanji's trembling and Nami and Usopp's exhaustion, they barely make it outside in time to watch the building finally cave in on itself, the castle crumbling under the force of tremendous blows being exchanged.

Outside, the air is heavy with the smell of dust, blood and victory. A sense of relief washes through him when he sees the rest of the crew watching the destruction from far away, settled onto the grass.

The deafening sound of an overwhelming blow echoes throughout the air. Somehow, innately, Zoro knows they've won. Dust and debris flies about- as the final tower of the castle gives away.

It's over.

A few jarring minutes pass. Most stand still, trying to catch their breath.

Sanji doesn't.

Zoro catches the fall from the corner of his eye, the graceless way in which the man tumbles onto the grass. At first he's still- his elbows and knees connected with the ground, blades of grass clenched between his fingers. Zoro assumes it must be exhaustion- they did just run for their lives and frankly, Sanji doesn't seem to be in any state for exercise.

The first, quiet sob proves him wrong.

Crying.

Around them, chaos erupts. As Luffy emerges from the rubble, the crew breaks out in a choir of excitement, congratulations and relieved sighs. But Zoro doesn't focus on any of that. Instead, his gaze remains fixed on Sanji, on the way the man struggles to hold himself upright as he heaves into the grass.

He doesn't know why, but something draws him to the sad display. He kneels next to the man, placing a hand on his spasming back. Doesn't comment on the way he can feel the ridges of his spine underneath his fingertips.

“Breathe. It's over. You're out.”

He speaks quiet reassurances, trying his best to be a comforting presence. But he never does get any recognition. All he's able to do is watch as Sanji holds his pale arm out, flipping it over as if it's something unimaginable.

Tears drip down into the blades of grass as a shaky voice begins to speak.

“I forgot how warm the sun is.”

A little while later, when all is said and done, the earth stands still below their feet. It's a good feeling, knowing the enemy is gone. Knowing the people you care about are safe once again.

That's exactly why her presence feels all the more tainting.

She appears from the remains of the castle, her silhouette draped in the orange hues of an early sunset. Her hair, previously neat and styled, now resembles more of a pink bird’s nest. She has a few gashes, but nothing too serious. Despite her disheveled state, her stance is as perfect as ever.

Her gaze is as murderous as it first was when they set foot on this ship. When she warned them about Germa, about the power of this kingdom. Not that it matters. There is no such thing, not anymore. All that remains is a destroyed castle, and a dead army.

Someone else, too. A man laying on the grass and staring up at the swirling clouds through a small, horizontal slit in the metal encompassing his head.

“Sanji.”

The woman says, and before she can even approach, Zoro has his sword drawn. The scene catches the others’ attention quick enough, but Zoro waves his palm to signal I've got it.

“Stay back.”

He says, and the aggression in his voice surprises even himself.

A hand lands on his shoulder, all bony fingers and pale skin. He turns but Sanji's already ahead of him, stepping towards the woman.

“It's fine.”

That small reassurance is enough to make him sheathe his sword again. Still, he keeps his hand on the scabbard, waiting, watching.

“Thought you didn't want to see me anymore.”

The woman stays perfectly still. Only her eyes move, scanning Sanji in a calculated manner.

“I'm sorry.”

Everyone else has quieted down by now. They're all watching the strange scene play out, weapons drawn and ready to intervene, should anything go wrong. They don't know Sanji but they do know the pink one. Know what she's capable of.

For the first time since he's seen her, Pinky’s stone cold expression breaks. It starts off as a frown, but before he knows it there’s tears rolling down her face, and they're perfect too- crystal like as they reflect the sunset’s light.

“Sanji. I know you have no reason to trust me but please- listen to me just this once.”

The atmosphere suddenly turns tense- asphyxiating. It feels as though they're intruding in on something deeply personal, something they couldn't possibly know the context of.

There's certainly a story here, something beyond a prisoner and a princess. It's visible in the way their bodies slot together yet don't entirely fit- a puzzle with a missing piece.

“Go. Go and never come back here.”

Quiet sobs break through the dreadful silence. Most of the straw hats have begun to look away, or at least pretend to, when it becomes clear how personal this matter is. Zoro doesn't. He watches every shake of Sanji's shoulders, every tremble in his knobby knees.

“The sea is broad. You'll..you'll definitely meet kind people!”

The pair pull apart. The woman does her best to wipe her tears inconspicuously but Sanji doesn't bother to hide his crying. Not that it's any visible, not behind the thick metal helmet.

Her sharp gaze turns to Luffy then, and any semblance of kindness in her eyes is gone.

“Take him. Should I find that you've done anything to hurt my little brother..I will find you, and I will eradicate you.”

Little brother?

But that means..

Sanji's a Vismoke. Sanji's one of them.

“Wait- come with me! We can finally be-”

The desperation in Sanji's voice is painful- but Reiju shows no such concerns. She smiles, a sad, reserved thing.

“I'm sorry. I've always been a coward.”

A whirring, metallic sound begins to echo through the air. Before any of them realize what it means, the woman lifts off the ground and hovers in the air- a few meters above them all.

“Goodbye, Sanji.”

“Reiju please- don't leave-!”

But it's too late. The blast of wind blows a speck of dust into Zoro's eyes, and the next time he blinks she's already gone, nothing but a dot getting smaller, disappearing into the horizon.

Sanji drops to his knees.

“And..there!”

With a resounding metal clang, the latch on the helmet bursts open. Sanji, sitting on a bed in the infirmary of the Sunny, lets out a choked sound- like someone has punched him square in the chest.

“We’ll go slow, okay?”

Chopper says, trying to minimize the fallout.

“Okay.”

It probably doesn't help that they're all cramped in here- watching. Were the circumstances any different, they probably wouldn't be invading a personal moment like this. It's hard to explain, but it feels as though they need to be here. At least- he does.

“Ow!”

“Sorry- sorry.”

Franky and Chopper work together to loosen the screws in the helmet- making it easier to slip off. After a few minutes the metal is finally loose enough to slide over Sanji's head- albeit slowly and carefully.

Zoro swallows down the lump in his throat.

It's..bad. Chopper doesn't say anything but the pain in the doctor’s eyes is visible. Everyone else stays silent as Sanji brings a shaking hand up to his face, touching his cheek like the skin itself could burn him.

His cheekbones are sharp and his skin pale- a blue undertone hidden beneath the surface of it. He has thin lips and a downturned nose- crooked. Like it's been broken before. Were it straighter, it would be reminiscent of the pink woman's own features. Stubble lines his cheeks, uneven and most likely never trimmed. And his hair..frankly, it's unsalvageable. The blond mat resembles more a ball of hay than actual strands- the few tufts of hair that manage to escape covering his face and making him look even more disgruntled.

But that's not the worst of it. Because etched deep into the skin of Sanji's cheeks are two horizontal scars. The tissue there is bumpy and pale- like the scars were made continuously. Probably a result of the metal digging into his skin, if Zoro had to guess.

Fuck.

Who would do that to their own family?

The blond opens his mouth as if he's about to speak- then closes it again. The tips of his fingers are still there- still lingering, and Zoro has to wonder what the last time he saw his face was. He seems almost perplexed to find hair on his skin- his hand travelling down onto his chin where the most of his stubble sits.

There's one more thing that Zoro didn't notice at first.

His eyebrows. They're curly, like the rest of the Vismokes. Only- Sanji's point in the opposite direction, for whatever reason.

The crew doesn’t say anything. What is there to say? Even Luffy knows to keep quiet, hunched over the side of the cot.

“I- have hair.”

Franky and Chopper look at each other, their gazes equally concerned as they are confused.

“Yeah, did you not know that, bro?”

Sanji doesn't say anything. His Adam's apple bobs and he continues to explore his own face quietly- though nervously.

“No.”

A different voice sounds out from the corner of the room, deep and comforting.

“Would you like me to bring you a mirror, Sanji?”

Robin waits for an answer with a reserved smile etched into her sharp features. The question itself is simple enough, but it seems to stunt Sanji, who takes a few seconds to give his answer.

“Yes. Please.”

About thirty seconds later, a long line of arms bursts into the room, a hand-held mirror passing from limb to limb. Petals scatter about and drift into the wind- dancing with the flow of the breeze before finally disappearing. None of them react to this, except of course Sanji- the poor bastard looks like he might jump out the window if someone doesn't say anything soon.

“Ah, sorry about that. It's my devil fruit power. It's not dangerous, don't worry.”

They all ignore the obvious lie for the sake of brevity.

It takes a second, but the fear disappears from Sanji's face like it was never even there. Now, there's only excitement drawn into his features- a child-like smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

“A devil fruit? It- I've never met a person who has one before.”

With a reserved curiosity, the blond pokes at the back of Robin’s hand- the one holding the mirror- then grabs the object for himself.

“Well, now you've met..four.”

Sanji's eyes widen in surprise.

Now that the horrible hunk of metal is off his face, Zoro can truly see just how expressive the man is. It's like every little emotion paints itself on his features- his expressions constantly shifting. It's endearing, in a way. He wants to like the fact that Sanji is so open about all of this, but another part of him can't help but think it's a result of him being locked up for god knows how long.

He just has this..air- like he hasn't been around many people in his life. Like he knows how to hold a conversation, just not quite. He understands the basics but freezes when things go off script- and even when he tries to seem polite, his micro-expressions give him away.

Then again, he's not that great with people either. It's probably not his place to judge.

“Are you sure you're okay with us being here?”

Chopper asks timidly.

“We can leave if it's too much.”

A calloused thumb runs over the handle of the mirror- nervous mannerisms giving Sanji's anxiety away.

“No. It's fine. I just- it's been a long time.”

A steady but reassuring voice responds, Jinbei’s.

“We understand. There’s no need to feel nervous.”

Luffy nods, his chin digging into the sheets of the bed.

“Yeah, we’re here for you, Sanji.”

A faint blush creeps up on Sanji's cheeks. It seems he's not used to the support. Slowly, he brings the silver mirror up until it's finally opposite to his face. But just before he looks at his reflection, his gaze snaps to Zoro's- only momentarily do their eyes meet, but it does something to him, forces up some strange, new emotion.

He doesn't linger on it. Doesn't have time to, when the next second the blond’s gaze is already drawn away and anchored by the mirror in front of him.

There's disbelief in his ocean eyes- a sort of shock that’s so overwhelming it's hard to even react at first. His blond eyelashes flutter as he blinks over and over, eyes snapping up and down as he takes in every feature of his own face. He seems most shocked by the scars, allowing his fingertips to graze along the bumps and ridges of the skin there.

“Oh.”

He says, voice quiet.

“Are you okay?”

Nami's voice cuts through the silence, her tone gentle in that way she uses with people she feels bad for. Women, kids, victims. A part of him understands, he gets how Sanji looks right now. But another has to swallow down his anger, because he knows. He knows it like the edge of a sword, like a promise made through tears and blood-

Sanji isn't weak.

“Yes- I'm fine. Just- surprised.”

Sanji's not weak. If he was weak, he wouldn't have come with them. He wouldn't have pointed that knife at Zoro to defend himself. He wouldn't have endured the abuse he's so clearly been through, and come out sane at the other end.

But he's here.

“If you want, I could cut your hair for you. I do everyone else's so- I'm pretty much an expert hairdresser.”

He's thankful for Usopp at this moment, for his joking tone and strange talent at de-escalating situations.

Sanji stares at the mirror, then at the man in question.

“Thank you. I'd like that.”

After that, it's all pretty much a blur. Zoro's not there for most of it. He doesn't want to linger. But from what he understands, it's a whole thing- showering, cutting his hair, giving him new clothes. He chooses to sit on the grassy deck instead, to supervise from afar. There's nothing he can do for Sanji in this department, anyway.

If there's one thing Zoro's grateful for, it's that the night is a calm one. There's no waves knocking them about, no winds blowing them in the wrong direction. The sea is as still as oil, and the stars perfectly clear. Laughter can be heard from inside the galley and a warm, orange light fills its windows as the rest of the crew talk to their new passenger.

It's fine. He can trust them with Sanji, he knows this. And yet a strange compulsion calls for him to enter the galley, to make sure he's okay.

It's illogical, is what it is.

Whatever. He wanted some sake anyway.

The inside of the galley is as warm as it is lively. Sure, that's something he expected. It's not a crew hangout if Luffy and Usopp aren't laughing at something the other said, if Brook isn't playing a happy tune on his violin. Still, he isn't expecting-

It's just that-

Sanji's..cooking.

At first Zoro thinks he might just be putting a plate away or something. But no, he's clearly flipping something over in a pan, vegetables of some kind.

“Zoro, Zoro! Sanji's gonna be our cook!”

The blond goes red at the words- turning to look at Luffy with an exasperated expression.

“I said I haven't decided yet.”

The captain crosses his arms, frowning.

“No takebacks.”

With a sigh, Sanji turns back to his food, staring down at the stir-fry like it's personally wronged him. He's finally looking a little better, at least. The haircut is short and choppy, but it suits him. He guesses most of the hair wasn't salvageable. He's dressed in a t-shirt that's slightly too big for him and a pair of sweatpants tied at the waist. Usopp's. He hums in approval.

Zoro walks to the counter, resting his hip on it so he's facing the blond.

“Our cook, huh?”

Vegetables slide around the wok, perfectly browned. Sanji adds pieces of chicken, using a sliding motion with his hand to spread it around the surface of the pan. The sizzle echoes throughout the galley and the smell of garlic is prominent.

It suits him, Zoro thinks. Cooking.

He was cooking in the cell too, wasn't he? There were pastries on the counter. He remembers.

“Your captain’s just..enthusiastic. I'll be out of your hair soon, don't worry.”

Sounds like Luffy. Especially if food is involved.

Zoro stays silent and observes the way Sanji moves inside the kitchen- the way his hands reach for the spices, the confidence with which he handles the pan. It's like he's a whole other person. Not a scared prisoner, not an awkward guest, but a professional. A proper cook, right inside his element. He fits well into the galley too, the rhythm of it all.

“I think you should do it. Unless..there's somewhere else you have to be.”

Blue eyes meet his own. Something in Zoro's chest tightens, then.

“Have you ever heard of the All Blue?”

The question throws him off. He doesn't expect the change in subject, nor the fire with which the words are spoken.

The All Blue. He thinks he's seen that somewhere before, but the memory escapes him.

“Uh. No. What's that?”

Sanji's hands work vigorously, stirring the ingredients as he adds soy sauce into the pan. He speaks with a newly lit spark, a smile etched onto his face.

“It's a legendary ocean where fish from all four Blues- East, West, North and South can be found. It's a cook's paradise and I- I'm going to find it. I'm finally in the Grand line so- I can't waste this chance.”

Something shifts. His heart does something funny when the blond’s eyes meet his own again, when that wide smile fills Zoro's vision.

So that's Sanji's dream.

That book.

The sea.

The All Blue.

“..All the more reason to stay here, then. This ship’s your best chance at finding your magical ocean..Twirly-brow.”

Sanji clicks his tongue and stares ahead, his gaze pinned on the wooden grain of the ship's wall.

“I can't stay here. I'm no fighter. No pirate, either. I don't..I don't know anything about the world. I'll only slow you down.”

I can't. That seems to be a common word in Sanji's vocabulary. I can't go with you. I can't stay here.

He wonders what idiot put that in his head.

“Listen. I can tell you're a pragmatic guy. Luffy will talk your ear off about dreams but- we both know it's a little more complicated than that. All I'm saying is- you can cook. We've needed a cook for a while and it works out for you too. Just..think about it.”

Ultimately, all Zoro can do is give him a reason to stay. A reason to be needed.

Sanji hums. Finally, he turns off the heat and takes the wok off the burner, placing it on a towel on the countertop. He doesn't look at Zoro as he speaks, but he can almost picture it- that furrow in his curly brow.

“I will.”

A few minutes later, the stir fry is plated up, a side of plain white rice to go with it. Zoro helps take the plates to the table, where an overly enthusiastic Luffy is gripping the edge like he physically has to restrain himself so as not to lunge at the food. Eventually, when everyone has their share, Zoro takes a seat of his own at the far end of the table. But just as he's about to take a bite of his food, he realizes something.

“Aren't you going to sit down, Sanji?”

He's beaten by Brook, who’s apparently having the same thought Zoro is. The man in question, who's currently lingering near the kitchen counter, seems to freeze at the question- before finally replying a few seconds later.

“I don't eat at the table.”

There's a sad look in the musician’s eyes. An understanding look.

“Well- here we all eat our meals together. It would make me most happy if you joined us.”

“Yeah, come sit down already!”

A rubber arm flies out and before Sanji can escape its grasp, it has already wrapped around his lanky body. With a fast movement, Sanji's thrown into an empty chair opposite of Zoro, next to Luffy.

“Um. Thank you.”

The rest of the crew snicker. Without any further hang ups, they all begin to eat. One by one, their faces light up- first Luffy's, then Nami's, then Usopp's. Silverware clangs and approving hums fill the galley. Nami's the first to speak up, her smile warm and contagious.

“Wow, this is incredible. You really know your stuff!”

After Luffy finishes inhaling the rest of his plate, he turns to Sanji, still chewing.

“Sanji! This is the best food I've ever eaten! Can you make more? I want meat, next!”

Usopp scoffs.

“This has meat, dumbass!”

Bashful, Sanji ducks his head. His thumb fiddles with the fork nervously, drawing circles into the silver.

“It's just a simple stir-fry.”

Zoro rolls his eyes at his Captain’s antics. Curious, he finally picks up a piece of chicken with his fork, some vegetables as well. Roasted peppers and onions, is what it looks like.

The taste is, as Nami put it, incredible. It would be a disservice to describe it as anything less than that. It's not even that the food tastes restaurant made- it's something more than that. Something Zoro doesn't know how to quite describe.

“It’s good.”

Heads turn towards his direction. He doesn't pay them any mind. He just continues eating, avoiding Sanji's gaze.

“Thanks.”

It's a nice break, finally getting to eat with everyone again and having a cup of sake to go along with his meal. Truth be told, going up against Germa 66 took a lot out of him, especially since he was still recovering from his fight against King. He just hopes the peace will last for the foreseeable future, or until he has time to catch up on his missed training. It's going to be a lot of work, but it'll be good to get back into a rhythm after so long away from the sea.

And plus, he has a new job now. It's sitting right there, on the opposite end of the table. If Sanji does decide to join them, he’ll need to learn how to fight, or at least know some basic moves to defend himself if the need arises.

He's definitely got his work cut out for him.

After all is said and done, Franky sets up a cot in the men's bunk room for Sanji to sleep in. It's placed closest to the door upon Sanji's request, which means that Zoro will be sleeping three beds away. Realistically, this placement is perfectly fine. His observation is good enough that he doesn't need to keep an eye on his crewmates all the time, and Sanji doesn't need some de facto body guard anyway. He's perfectly capable of caring for himself. If nothing else, the Sunny is probably the safest ship for him to be on in the entire Grand Line.

Yep. He knows all of this.

And yet he still can't calm his fucking nerves.

Especially when Sanji's down there, all alone, and they're up here making chit-chat.

“I’m just saying, we need to discuss this as a crew before making any hasty decisions.”

Nami's perfectly manicured finger taps on the wooden table, her gaze stern.

“Sanji's going to be my cook. I've already decided.”

In the galley, a clash of forces erupts.

He's not exactly sure why Nami thinks she'll be able to change Luffy's mind. It's clear by this point that the Captain doesn't take no for an answer, not when he has his mind set on something. Still, he admires her resolve, even if he doesn't agree with her entirely.

“Luffy! He's a Vinsmoke. Look, I like Sanji as much as the rest of you but- we need to be cautious. He could be a spy, anything. We can't just-”

“He’s not a spy!”

Something shifts in the atmosphere of the room. It feels hostile, dangerously close to days forgiven long ago, to a fight left behind in the port of Water Seven. Nami's standing up now and so is Luffy. Their faces are close, opposite of each other, and yet they're still not seeing eye to eye. Not that Nami and Luffy ever do, but it's different this time. Harsher.

“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves. There's no point in arguing when Sanji hasn't made his decision.”

Jinbei places a hand on Nami's shoulder, and her fist, firmly closed on top of the table, eases.

“Fine. I'm sorry.”

Luffy's eyes soften, and his shoulders slouch.

“Sorry.”

Zoro takes a breath. Calms himself. They've come a long way since Water Seven. There's no need to worry about that happening again.

“So..what are we doing?”

Usopp's voice cuts through the awkward silence. Nervously, the sniper fiddles with his hands, waiting for an answer.

“We wait for Sanji's choice. Nami.”

The squeaking of Luffy's sandals echoes throughout the galley as the captain approaches Nami. Now close, the man places a hand on the navigator's shoulder and gives her a reassuring grin.

“Dont worry! I can tell Sanji's a good guy. Zoro thinks so too.”

Turning towards him, Nami stares skeptically.

“Okay. I guess..you've never been wrong about anyone before.”

The captain flashes his teeth, a wide, blinding smile.

“I know, I'm never wrong- Ow! Nami!”

The heavy sound of a fist knocking into skin explodes, and Luffy folds into himself, clutching his stomach. Nami, as terrifying as usual, has no sign of empathy in her sharp gaze as she clicks her tongue and turns her hand over, checking that her nails are still intact.

“Don't push it.”

So, they sail on.

A day turns into two, turns into a week. Nami did warn them that it's a long stretch until the next island, about three week’s worth of travel. He'd be lying if he said the down time was bothering him. It's good to finally get a chance to work out now that his leg is better. He’s been wanting to read that romance book Robin recommended and of course- drink. The others seem to be making good use of their time as well- be it working on inventions, doing research, studying, or in Luffy's case, harassing Sanji into making food for him.

After a long and thorough examination by Chopper, Sanji didn't waste any time in getting into the kitchen and trying his hand at a bunch of different recipes. Of course, it took a bit of a learning curve for their new guest to understand just how ravenous their captain’s appetite truly is- but all in all, Sanji's doing pretty well for himself considering it’s only been a week. Sure, he’s still a bit weak, but that's all the more reason for him to begin training. After all, it doesn't matter if he decides to stay or leave. Self defense is always a useful skill.

That's how he ends up on the deck on a sunny mid-day afternoon in nothing but a pair of sweatpants and his bandana tied around his forearm- meditating. Their new cook is sitting opposite of him, his pose reflecting Zoro's own.

Zoro's eyes might be closed but he can see Sanji clear as day, legs folded criss-cross style and arms resting on his knees. Back straight or- as straight as it gets.

His haki has been getting better. Meditating helps.

“Your back.”

He says, and immediately feels the jolt of Sanji's skittish heart, before the blond proceeds to straighten his posture. Around them, the breeze dances calmly and Zoro can feel every rustle of every leaf in Nami's tangerine grove, each breath of every single crewmate and where they are at. Nami in her mapping room, Brook and Franky in the aquarium bar, Jinbei and Chopper in the galley. Usopp and Robin in the crow's nest. Luffy on the Sunny's figurehead, perfectly still.

“So..how long am I supposed to do this for?”

Zoro exhales.

“As long as it takes.”

Somewhere far away a seagull squaks, its voice echoing all around them.

“And..when’s that.”

Impatient.

“When you learn how to wait, Curly.”

Sanji growls. There's a spike in his aura, then, something sharp and uncontrolled. Dangerous.

“I know how to wait, moss-for-hair. It's all I did for thirteen years.”

Shit.

Was that how long Sanji was in prison for? Thirteen years? He can't even begin to comprehend how that could affect someone, let alone..God, he must've been just- a kid. Who locks up a kid in a basement? Their own kid?

He opens his eyes and meets Sanji's- but where he expects to find the sparkle of the sea in high-noon, is only something dull- like the sky on a cloudy day, like rainwater.

“Sorry.”

His voice is meek, like how it was back in that dungeon. Scared, defeated. Zoro hates it when he gets like that- when any sign of progress is erased by the fear that can't seem to loosen its grasp on Sanji's soul.

“ ‘s fine. Maybe you're right. We've done enough meditating. I think you're ready for some action.”

The sun reigns high above their heads. Zoro stands, feet planted firmly on the ground and stance wide.

“Get up. I'll teach you how to fight.”

Sanji's mouth curls in this weird way- strained and uncomfortable.

“I'm- I told you, I'm really not great at fighting.”

Zoro holds out his hand and Sanji reluctantly takes it- using Zoro as leverage to stand on shaky feet. The tips of his fingers are calloused- rough against Zoro's skin. There's thin blonde hairs on the back of his hand, matching the growing peach fuzz on the bottom of his chin.

Zoro doesn't comment on the obvious. On the scars lining Sanji's body- some small and faded, others large and raised.

“We all started somewhere. ‘Sides, whether you join the crew or not- you'll need to know how to fight. The Grand Line isn't exactly a soft place.”

An annoyed huff escaped the blond’s mouth once Zoro has made his point. He places both his hands on his hips, and stares at Zoro expectantly.

“Alright. Go on, then.”

Right. The basics, then.

“The most important thing in a fight is your stance. Be stable. If an enemy knocks you off your feet, you've pretty much already lost.”

Of course, this isn't exactly true. The winner of a fight can be dictated by endless factors- but considering Sanji's lack of experience and general weakness, it will have to do until he puts on a bit of bulk and learns how to use an actual weapon.

“Your stance should be wide. Back straight. Straighter.”

Him and that fucking slouch. Zoro's going to have to talk to Chopper about getting him a back trainer or something. His shoulders hurt just staring at the guy, sometimes.

“This fine, Mossy?”

He nods.

“Your arms should be near your face, so you can use them to block punches. Like this.”

He demonstrates, holding up his forearms in front of his face. Sanji follows his movements, accurately but half-heartedly. There's a clear lack of confidence in his actions. Something they'll have to work on.

He continues.

“When you throw a punch your thumb should be on the outside of your fist, tucked in like this. Hold your arm sideways, pointer on top and pinky towards the ground.”

He forms a simple punch, then swings at the air sideways so as not to startle Sanji. For a few seconds the cook just stares- then forms his own fist. It's wrong. His thumb is too loose- not flush against the fingers. Even ignoring that- throwing a punch with his wrist angled like that would probably cause it to shatter.

“Give me your hand.”

It's a simple request, but one that seems to cause Sanji to falter. When he does finally give his hand over to Zoro, it's clammy and stiff. But the swordsman doesn’t linger on that. He helps place Sanji's fingers in the correct position, all the while ignoring the blond's piercing gaze.

Finally, Zoro pushes his wrist so the angle is correct.

“Like that.”

But when he finally looks back up again, he finds that Sanji isn't staring at the fist.

He's staring at Zoro.

“Uh-”

“Sorry-”

His stomach flips. For a few seconds, it feels as though they're stuck together- like Zoro wouldn't be able to pull himself away even if he tried. There's nothing else- just Sanji's face, alarmingly close to his own.

Then pain bursts across his cheek and he falls, hitting the ground like a discarded ragdoll.

He only realizes what happened when he tastes a trickle of blood running down his lip, when the pain begins to bloom into what he knows will become one nasty bruise later on.

Motherfucker.

“You think I'm gonna let you get away with that, eyebrows?”

Sanji grins. Wild, unserved, free.

“Try me. I've always been more of a practical learner.”

When they fight, something inside Zoro shifts.

Something fundamental.

Sanji's not great, per se, but he's not terrible either. Certainly not as bad as he made himself out to be earlier. He manages to dodge punch after punch, but that's not what impresses Zoro. It's the way he dodges- gracefully and efficiently in a way only skilled fighters should be able to. And yet he pulls it off perfectly and it's so him, but so horrible at the same time. Because when Zoro punches, there's a story behind every evasive maneuver the blond utilizes to get away. There's a scar etched into his skin to prove he learned the hard way.

And yet it works. The openings he manages to find are slim and yet he lands them every time.

“What idiot told you that you can't fight?”

He yells out. Zoro turns his leg and flinches out of the way just as Sanji's fist is about to hit his neck- narrowly dodging the punch. He then retaliates with an attack of his own, crouching and managing to land a blow onto the cook's side.

“Fuck- who the hell do you think?”

His voice is strained and weakened but Zoro won't go easy on him. This is a fight that Sanji started, and it's one he will have to see through.

They jump away from each other then, circling around- perfectly synced.

“Your horrible family, I would assume.”

There's a slight stagger in Sanji's step as he attempts to mimic Zoro's movements. Blood is dripping down his nose from where Zoro managed to land a hefty punch earlier in the fight. It hugs the skin of his jaw and drips down his neck- a deep crimson.

It makes his stomach churn.

“Bingo.”

With a flash, Sanji appears in front of him- his arm drawn back and his stature holding a resolve that wasn't there previously. He's a fast learner, if nothing else. It's too bad that in experience, Zoro's got him beat.

In the end, it comes down to a matter of speed, and he's just not quick enough. Zoro hits first- managing to send the blond sprawling onto the ground. Sanji rolls a few meters and ends up back on the grass- head thrown to the side.

Zoro licks up the last of the blood, now crusted over his lip, and spits it onto the grass.

Fuck, that was amazing.

He doesn't know how to describe it but- when they fought, something just..clicked.

He's never felt that way before.

“You gonna help me out or just stand there?”

Quickly, he struts over and extends a hand, allowing Sanji to sit up. The blond drags his forearm under his nose, wiping the blood that's still flowing freely down his face.

“You okay?”

“Yeah. I'm. I'm okay.”

There's a strange sort of surprise between the words. Instead of letting it consume his thoughts, Zoro crouches down and unties his bandana from his arm, handing it over to the cook.

“Here.”

“Thanks.”

Quietly, Sanji tilts his head forward and soaks up the blood with Zoro's bandana. The movement is practiced- like he's done it a hundred times before.

“Honestly- I'm just glad I got a few hits in.”

Sanji's shoulder is warm against his palm as he pats it firmly. He can almost feel the cook's heartbeat thrumming underneath his skin- the adrenaline there.

“You'll make a hell of a fighter, cook. As long as you keep training with me, at least.”

And it's not a lie. He can see the potential within Sanji. The skill waiting to be honed, perfected.

“Whatever you say, Mosshead.”

The nickname causes heat to rise to his cheeks, and he watches as Sanji tries to hide his shit-eating grin underneath the blood-soaked fabric. Flustered, he shoves the cook's shoulder and causes the man to fall to the side- a laugh ripping out his throat.

“Dick.”