Chapter Text
“I’m not weak, idiot.”
The voice came out strained and hoarse, but not deprived of its usual pride and coldness. Zoro lazily turned his head to the cook. Sanji was looking at him with half-opened eyes, exhaustion and weariness painted all over his pale face. If the swordsman didn’t know any better, he probably wouldn’t notice the cautiousness laying underneath that tired expression.
“No.” He agreed. “You’re not.”
The cook sighed, his breath coming out shaky. Zoro wondered if the bruises and injuries around his ribcage were severe enough to cause him pain when breathing too deeply.
“Then what the hell are you doing here?” Sanji said slowly, an annoyed vibe clear in his voice. As though it was just one of their fights. As though he wasn’t on his way to hell hours earlier. “You didn’t have to babysit me the whole night. Why the trouble?”
“The same reason why you did it for me.” The swordsman replied shortly, crossing his arms.
A moment of silence passed. The cook tried to get up, only to fall back into the mattress with a curse, and shot Zoro a cold glare. One he hadn’t seen in a long time.
“That was different.” He turned his head away. “I was making sure your drugged ass wouldn’t break Merry into splinters.”
Liar, Zoro thought. His fingers clenched around the still half-full bottle he was lucky enough to sneak away from the galley earlier, for a time like this. There was no way he could deal with the curly eyebrow’s silver tongue sober and as much as he loathed it, they needed to talk.
“How are you feeling?” He asked, taking a sip and watching the cook with one eye.
“…Everything fucking hurts.” Was all he got in response.
“We can’t put you on an anaestethic.” Zoro said. “Last time we did, you almost bit the dust. Can’t risk having that happen again.”
I… I think it has something to do with the way they kept him drugged, if what you’re saying is right, Nami told him earlier. Perhaps it triggered that reaction. It… would probably be for the best to keep him clean for a while.
“You’d change your mind if they put you in my shoes.” The cook grit his teeth, letting out a subtle hiss when he tried to shift and get a better look at the swordsman. “There’s no way to convince you to get me something, moss-for-brains?”
The corner of the swordsman’s mouth went up. “No.”
Not after they went through all the trouble of fetching the guy back to the ship, holding him down, trying to force him to breathe again. There was no way they were going to go through anything like that again. “You’re already enough of a pain.”
Sanji cursed. “Shouldn’t have sat here the whole time if it’s such a sacrifice for you then.”
“It’s not—” Zoro started, but quickly gave it up. “You of all people shouldn’t lecture me about sacrifice. I’ve already had enough of you walking out on me only because you thought it would give your death a meaning.”
“Pardon me?” A curly eyebrow went up.
Zoro ignored him, emptying the bottle in two quick gulps and wiping his mouth. “We both know you weren’t expecting to get back here alive.”
The cook opened his mouth, but whatever retort he was about to say, it died on his lips. Instead, he closed his eyes, breathing shallowly.
“We’re going to have this conversation?” Suddenly, all the cockiness and frustration were replaced by exhaustion – one Zoro didn’t expect to hear. “You’re mad about it?”
“It’s not a question of being mad about it!” The swordsman raised his voice, frustration rising up inside him. “We were already outside, mind you. What the fuck were you thinking to get back in there?”
“…They were going to call for help, mosshead.” The cook’s voice showed nothing other than coldly calculated calmness. “As soon as we’d set sail, they would’ve had us cornered. Not to mention…” A blue eye slid down the swordsman’s torso. “You had a fucking bullet in your stomach. There wasn’t much choice, really.”
“…So you decided you’d rather die than count on us to beat those guys.” Zoro stated, raising his chin. He hated it, he hated how that idiot expected him to put up with the fact that his life had no meaning to him.
“Bullshit.” The dartbrow clicked his tongue. “How exactly do you imagine us getting out of there? By the time we would’ve made it to the ship, the Navy would already be on their way to catch us. And soon after leaving the harbor, we’d have the local guys on our tail. How long do you think it takes before adrenaline wears off and your body gives up?”
“You should’ve trusted our captain.” Zoro said lowly.
“I do trust him.” The cook exhaled heavily. “I trust him with my life, shitty swordsman. But even Luffy can’t defeat a whole fleet alone, at least not with his current strength. And if he fell overboard or got caught into Sea Prism?” He paused for a moment, calming down. “Understand, idiot. It was the best way out.”
“Since when is dying the best way out, idiot?!” The swordsman raised his voice, startling his crewmate. “Did it even cross your mind what would happen if you died then, there? Did you even bother thinking about the consequences before you dashed right into those Marines’ arms?”
“I didn’t—” The cook protested, his eye widening subtly. Noticing Zoro’s eyes on him, he quickly regained his composure. “I didn’t do that. I didn’t, you get it?”
“Like hell.” The swordsman snorted. “I know, cook. I know that you went out to get my swords alone without telling anyone, that you stayed up the whole night when I was unconscious, that you did everything you could to stop me from fighting Luffy and that you let me break—”
“I didn’t let you do a thing.” The cook cut him off, his voice leaking of cold threat. “You’re making up theories about things you don’t and definitely shouldn’t know about. Don’t make anything of that sound heroic, moron.”
“And you don’t go around doing things you shouldn’t.” Zoro narrowed his eyes. “Why the hell do you have to throw away your life like it’s nothing, cook? Like we wouldn’t even care if you disappeared?” Who made you think your life has no value?
“That’s your way of saying thank you for not letting those guys sell my swords and me to the Marines?” The cook clicked his tongue, visibly frustrated. “All I did was trying to make sure you guys are going to be okay. What the hell is your deal with it?”
“My deal…” The swordsman said lowly. “Is that, for some reason, you refuse to see yourself as a part of us. That, even though we’re crewmates – we’re a team – you keep insisting on making yourself a sacrifice. If you wanted to die so much, should’ve told me.” What did you go through to believe you’re worth less than the rest of us?
“Don’t talk to me all high and mighty” Sanji bared his teeth. “You would’ve done the same thing if it meant saving Luffy and the others.”
“I would’ve put more faith in them.” Zoro stated bitterly, speaking up after a moment of silence. “We’re all pirates, cook. We’ve all signed up for the same shit as you did, so why can’t you fucking trust us?”
It seemed to have finally startled the dartbrow.
“…It’s not a question of trust, mosshead.” He spoke up after a moment. “Just like with your swords. I couldn’t go back to Merry and hope those guys wouldn’t take them somewhere else or sell them.”
“And what exactly made you think I value my friends less than my katanas?” Zoro asked sharply, blood rushing in his veins.
To his surprise, the dartbrow let out a strained, hoarse chuckle.
“I’ve seen you taking care of them, mosshead.” He said after a moment, an amused eye flickering to meet the swordsman’s. “I know how much they mean to you. Wado especially.”
“You don’t believe me.” Zoro narrowed his eyes. The cook only smiled weakly.
“No, I don’t.”
“So, you’re saying I’d choose my swords over Luffy, Nami or Usopp?”
“No.” The cook said quickly, his brow furrowing subtly. “They’re… different.”
“How?” The swordsman crossed his arms, leaning his head back on the wall. “They’re different because I’ve known them for longer than you? Then why did you even bother risking and going looking for my swords, if we’re such strangers?”
“…You wouldn’t understand.” Sanji said, frustration in his voice quickly fading away. “But it’s not about you, all right?”
“Then maybe let me try?” Zoro half growled, wishing he fetched himself another bottle of booze when he had the chance. “Maybe I’m not a lost case you think I am?”
The cook shot him a cold look.
“All right.” He clicked his tongue, as though already expecting a specific kind of reaction from the swordsman. “I… wanted to make up for it.” Noticing Zoro’s raised eyebrow, he bit back a curse. “For the fact that I’m me.”
One thing the swordsman realized, the cook was fucking right when he said he wouldn’t understand. To Zoro, it was such nonsense, such contradiction to everything he ever stood for, that his mind refused to come into terms with the fact that anyone, anyone, could ever believe that being themselves was some kind of guilt.
He looked at Sanji, but there was nothing he could read from the guy’s face. As though what he’d just said was a plain fact, as though his words didn’t carry any emotions with them, as though saying something like that out loud had no meaning to him whatsoever.
As though it was something he’s come to terms with long ago.
“Being yourself…” The swordsman said slowly, trying not to shout the words right into the bastard’s face. “Has never been something that should be made up for. It’s never been shameful. Not on this ship. Not anywhere.”
Mindful it would probably be for the better to leave the cook alone with his thoughts, Zoro stood up, stiff muscles protesting after hours spent in similar positions.
“I’ll tell the others you’re awake.” He shot the cook one last glance before putting his hand on the handle. “I bet they’ll be happy to see you alive.”
There was no reply, but it wasn’t like he expected one in the first place. As soon as he left the room, hours of watching over his injured crewmate fell upon him all at once, almost knocking him off his feet. What he needed was a long nap. Or food. Preferably both at the same time. Telling Luffy and the witch the cook was fine could wait. As well as confronting the long-nose about their last fight.
He was exhausted.