Chapter Text
Zoro pelted across the rocky shore and over the sandy stretch of beach. The wind lashed the small bay, plastering his hair to his forehead. He skidded down the pebbly embankment and stopped by the water’s edge, trying to get a good look at the Merry through the storm. Despite the now torrential rain, an orange glow still lit up the ships with a baleful light. Zoro squinted and realized that the bigger ship was actually responsible for most of it. A cavernous hole had been torn into the side of the 3-masted galleon, and the tarring that sealed the great planks was ablaze in places. It leaned dangerously to one side.
Cannon shot, he mused, eyeing the damage. The sound of it must have been mixed in with the thunder he and Nami had heard on their way back. That meant Usopp had put up or was putting up a fight at least. He scanned what he could see of the Merry’s deck, but there was no sign of the sniper or a blond head amongst the shadowy figures running around.
Looking up and down the shore, Zoro located the little dinghy that they used to shuttle themselves to the beach, but it was some distance away. The sound of a familiar voice yelling made him snap his head back around. He couldn’t make out the words, but there on the tilted starboard of the damaged galleon he saw a flash of golden hair, a slash of lean torso, and the annoying, cock-sure cant of shoulders that he knew so well. So the cook was in action too despite it all.
Lightning cracked again—a huge bolt that threw the world into view—and the small figure was looking at him now. In that brief, brilliant illumination, their eyes met and a feeling of foreboding seized Zoro deep in his chest. He saw blood. A lot of blood. A pale chest streaked with angry, crimson lines, and a white face half-painted in red. Even with the rain sheeting down, there had seemed to be so much of it. And the arrogant slouch had been a trick of the angle or light. The cook looked exhausted, and his arms had been behind him at a strange angle, hidden from view. What had happened?
Suddenly, the lonely figure backed up and began running down the deck towards the Merry. Zoro read the other man’s intentions in the set of the shoulders and the pumping legs, but the feeling of foreboding thudded inside him with every step. As Sanji reached the railing and leapt high into the air, every fiber of the swordsman’s being sang with alarm.
Zoro was already diving into the sea when the world erupted.
Water and air pressure battered him back, but fear drove him onward like a blade following the thrust, and he swam with everything he had. Before joining the Straw Hats, Zoro had been a passable swimmer, but when your captain sank like a hammer in the sea, you went from okay to good very quickly. He’d never be as graceful or as fast as the cook, but the adrenaline singing in his veins could compensate for ability when push came to shove.
After what felt like an eternity of fighting against the choppy water and debris from the explosion, Zoro made it alongside the Merry. He put a hand against its trusty oak hull and looked around. The large galleon on the starboard side was in pieces. It had split into three fiery segments that were in various stages of sinking. Zoro scanned the waters between the two ships, and seeing no sign of Sanji, swam on.
On and on, he checked pieces of the wreckage but found nothing. The burn of exertion began to lace through his arms and legs. Zoro ignored it and dove under the water, trying to see if he could make anything out there. The sea was dark and choked with pieces of the mangled vessel. It was impossible to discern anything. There was no way the idiot cook had made the jump after that blast, though. He’d half-expected, in a grim way, to find the other man pasted to the side of the Merry, but his instincts said otherwise. Zoro was certain that he’d find his target in the water. He had to.
As he swam past the stern, Zoro heard a voice calling his name. He grabbed onto a barrel bobbing nearby and craned his neck around, looking for the source.
“Zoooooro! There! There!” someone shouted.
Zoro looked up and saw Usopp clinging to the Merry’s railing. The sniper was waving frantically and pointing to a spot left of his position, close to a large, floating section of deck and railing.
“Thereeeee!” Usopp shouted again. Zoro wiped the water out of his eyes and squinted through the rain. He caught a glimpse of something pale between the spokes of railing and pushed off the barrel with so much force that it cracked, the split shell bumping up against the Merry. He surged to the fallen section and clambered on. Just past a snarl of splintered planks and half submerged in the sea he found the cook.
The bit of pale flesh he had seen were the long fingers of one of Sanji’s hands wrapped around a fractured post. Zoro’s eyes narrowed dangerously when he saw the rope binding the other man’s wrists. Despite it, Sanji had somehow managed to get on top and ahold of the large piece of debris. His uninjured hand’s white-knuckled grip prevented him from sliding below the surface as he lay awkwardly on his side, but his legs were already under water and his head would soon be next. Strands of blond hair floated on the water as the sea lapped hungrily at his brow.
“You stupid bastard! You better not be dead…”
He knelt by the still form and gingerly lifted Sanji’s head while his other hand pried the fingers from the post. The other man didn’t react as Zoro worked and muttered angrily under his breath.
As if the hand injury hadn’t been bad enough. Chopper was going to lose it, he thought, suddenly furious at the deep red marks visible beneath the rope around the lean wrists.
When he finally got him unhooked from the post and clear of the water, Zoro patted one cold cheek awkwardly. “Hey, cook. Wake up.”
There was no response. Blood oozed from a cut over one closed eye and began to pool in Zoro’s hand. Zoro laid Sanji’s head back down and carefully, slowly, turned him on his back to get a better look at the damage and check for a heartbeat. Despite all the blood, he was relieved to see that the gouges on the other man’s chest weren’t too deep. Nasty, but not lethal. He lowered his head and looked into the other man’s face for signs of life. Sanji’s lips were parted slightly, but Zoro couldn’t tell if he was breathing. He put two fingers against the pale neck but again, nothing. Growing anxious and frustrated—he needed Chopper!—Zoro pressed an ear to the bare chest. He tried to calm himself and shut out the chaos of their surroundings. The churning waves faded into the background as he stilled his own racing heart. He was rewarded with the soft thump of a slow, but steady, heartbeat.
Zoro rubbed a shaking hand over his face.
“Don’t do that to me,” he said low, almost inaudibly.
The other man remained still.
“You stupid asshole. Open your eyes already. I’ve gotten enough shit this week over you damaging yourself. I’m never going to hear the end of it if you don’t at least curse me out when we get back to the Merry.”
He shivered as water began pooling under his knees. The wreckage was beginning to sink. Zoro hooked his arms under Sanji’s armpits and hefted him up. The cook was a dead weight against his chest, but when the blond head came to a rest on his shoulder, breath tickled his ear almost reproachfully.
Zoro’s lips twisted into a wry smile. “Hey. You’ll never find that Blue thing you’re looking for if you die for some second rate pirates.” The other man stirred slightly.
“That’s…” Sanji croaked weakly into his neck, “the shittiest apology…I’ve ever heard…”
Zoro snorted as he pushed off from the debris and began to tread water. It was hard when you had a passenger that was more limpet than functioning human, but he freed one of his arms and began a slow paddle back to the Merry.
“I’m saying I get it, all right? Good enough for you?”
Sanji murmured into his shoulder. Zoro couldn’t make him out over the turbulent water and yells that were now coming back into focus, but it didn’t sound angry. He’d take that as something at least.
Suddenly, slender arms and gentle hands encircled them both in a firm embrace. Zoro looked up and saw two long chains of inter-locking limbs stretching from the Merry and reeling them in. He relaxed in their grip as he saw Robin’s pensive face regarding them from above. Her Devil Fruit worked its magic and brought them swiftly back aboard their ship.
“Is he all right?” she asked quietly as Zoro laid Sanji down on his side and unsheathed Yubashiri. The swordsman cut the rope binding his wrists, and Sanji hissed with pain and relief. He rolled gingerly onto his back and shot Robin a rather forced-looking smile.
“Don’t worry yourself! I’m just…fine!”
The archeologist studied his bare and bloodied torso, battered face, and bruised feet without comment.
“I would kill for a smoke, though…” he sighed, throwing a trembling arm over his eyes.
“Where is everyone?” Zoro asked, rising to his feet.
Robin’s gaze lingered for a moment on the cut pieces of rope, then she indicated towards the bow where Zoro could now see several people gathered. As he strode off in that direction, she took off her hip shawl and folded it neatly under Sanji’s head against his weak protests.
Zoro stomped across the deck with purpose. The tumultuous mix of fear and relief he’d felt in the last hour were quickly being replaced by emotions he was more far more comfortable with. He found Nami and Luffy standing by a haphazard pile of pummeled and groaning pirates as Usopp hauled Chopper up and over the railing.
Nami ran to him. “Is Sanji okay?! Usopp said—”
Zoro nodded curtly and jerked his thumb back at Robin, who was dragging over one of the umbrella lawn deck chairs to cover them from the rain.
“Sanjiiiii!” Chopper howled as he caught sight of him. “Someone call a doctor! Doctor! Doctor! …Ah, that’s me!”
The little reindeer sped over, and Zoro could hear him shrieking as he took in all the new damage to his patient.
Nami watched the frantic ministrations for a moment and blew out a breath. The relief on her face turned to cold anger as she turned back to the pirates. Luffy was still looking back at the prone form of their crewmate. There was none of the usual cheerfulness on his face as he took in the injuries.
“Hey, Sanji!” he bellowed. “You okay?”
The cook slowly raised an unsteady arm and gave his captain a thumbs up that was not convincing in the slightest, but Luffy visibly relaxed.
Luffy nodded and shifted his attention back to a tall, orange-haired man that Zoro hadn’t noticed was there before. The pirate looked battered and somewhat bedraggled but had an air of self-importance about him. His chipped teeth were bared in a snarl, and two black and blue marks spread across his broken nose and swollen eyes. Zoro smirked when he saw the bruises were foot-shaped.
Then he caught sight of the metal claw on the pirate’s left hand. The tips of the fingers were wickedly sharp and barbed—made for maiming. Jagged red gouges against white skin flashed in his mind. The smile slipped from his lips. Zoro’s hand moved to his swords without thinking.
“Are you the one who did this?” Luffy asked the orange-haired man.
The pirate shrugged. Usopp pointed an angry finger at him. “It WAS you, and just look what you did to the Merry! And Sanji! Though I guess I sort of blew him up…”
The tall pirate looked around the battle-damaged deck of the Merry with open contempt and swept the metal hand in Luffy’s direction. “Aye, aye, and if I’d known you were a Devil Fruit user, I wouldn’t have bothered. A pathetic prize for the effort with an overpowered child for a captain. You Fruit users make a mockery of proper pirates.”
“You—!” Nami raised her staff.
“Crewed by women and the unfit,” the pirate sneered at her, and waggled his claw in Sanji’s direction.
Zoro stepped forward to stand by Luffy’s side. “Just two of our crew—half of that number unfit—destroyed your ship and rearranged your face. Neither are Devil Fruit users. You’re the weak one here.”
The pirate drew himself up. “I am Davag the Claw! I’ve been on the Grand Line longer than you’ve been out of diapers boy. You’re just a bunch of upstarts playing at the life. I’ve left my mark here.” He raised his metal-clawed hand and rubbed the fingers together until sparks flew. “Shall we—"
“You’re really proud of that thing, huh?” Zoro growled.
There was a blur of movement. Usopp squeaked as something clanged to the ground. The clawed fingers of the metal hand clicked together, and it rolled to a stop by the sniper’s feet. The orange-haired pirate stared at the stump where his metal hand had been.
“And now I’ve left my mark,” Zoro said coldly.
Luffy didn’t even spare it a glance. “Robin,” he said calmly as she approached the group, having left Sanji to Chopper’s care. “Get them off our ship.” He thrust his chin at the pile of enemy pirates.
“With pleasure,” she said, and calling forth a pair of giant hands, swept the lot of them from the deck in one elegant motion. They flew through the air like pebbles cast into a lake. Little splashes punctuated the rainfall as the storm rolled on.
Usopp whistled in appreciation.
Nami stalked up to the orange-haired pirate and grabbed him by the ruffled collar of his tunic. She pulled him down to her level. “And you know what I’m going to do? I’m going to tear what remains of your ship apart and take every bit of treasure that I find. Anything of value that you possess is now ours. And when I’m done, I’m going to light whatever’s left on fire.”
She spun as she turned away and cracked him viciously across the face with her staff. He fell to the deck in an undignified heap. Nami calmly walked back and stood on the other side of Luffy.
Luffy looked down at the other captain, his face almost expressionless. His resolute calmness was in itself the most violent of promises, though. Zoro sheathed Sandai Kitetsu and waited.
“And this…” the rubber man said, throwing back his arm to stretch far, far behind him, “…is for messing with my crew.”
There was a snap and Luffy’s fist shot forward like a bullet loosed from the barrel of a gun. The clenched knuckles struck and lifted the enemy captain off the ground, sending the orange-haired pirate sailing into the sky. It was a long time until Zoro thought he heard a splash.
Usopp scuttled forward and booted the metal claw after him. “And that’s for the Merry!” he shouted.
Nami joined him at the railing as it plopped into the water. They stood there together watching it sink when Nami suddenly scrunched up her nose. She turned to him. “Usopp… Why do you smell like ketchup?”
***
Three days later…
Sanji navigated the stairs leading up to galley slowly and with exaggerated care. He was technically breaking Chopper’s rules, so he tried to be extra cautious. He hadn’t promised to stay put this time, though, and he’d slept enough. He was itching to get back into the kitchen.
The sun was just peeking over the horizon as he made it to the top. The ridiculous boot Chopper was making him wear on his right foot—all for a little fracture!—thunked loudly with each step. He half expected the little doctor to tear up the stairs at any moment. Really, he wasn’t in such bad shape. The infection from his hand had cleared up with no issues thanks to Chopper’s shopping trip on the island, and aside from a few cracked ribs, stitches, and bruises, he didn’t think it was worth all the fuss. He’d slept for days and as far as he was concerned, he was fine. He sat down on the top step to catch his breath. Mostly fine, anyway.
The salty air was warm even at that early hour, and the breeze felt like a soft breath on his face. It made the cut over his eyebrow itch, but it was deliciously fresh compared to the stifling heat of the men’s quarters. He lit a cigarette and sat there, enjoying the peace and silence of the morning.
After a few minutes, he stood stiffly and carried on to the galley. The knob turned easily in his hand—Usopp had repaired his kitchen personally—and he was back where he belonged.
Only, he wasn’t alone.
There, on the stool by the stove that he generally reserved for himself, was the idiot swordsman. He hadn’t seen much of Zoro since the other man had fished him out of the water, but he had slept most of it, so it didn’t smack him of avoidance. On the contrary, there had been a sense of the other man hovering nearby. But maybe it was just the cooling of the tension between them talking.
Sanji stood in the doorway and watched the tanned chest rise and fall as Zoro snored loudly into one of his oven mitts. The swordsman’s open-necked shirt was rumpled, and the grass green hair mussed as though he’d been there for some time. Sanji puffed on his cigarette.
Limping as quietly as he could, he busied himself around the familiar confines of the cramped galley to prepare for breakfast. Once he had everything out and ready, he set a steaming cup of coffee by Zoro’s nose. The bitter chocolate notes of Sanji’s personal store of beans filled the room with a warm, subtly nutty smell. Zoro stirred.
Sanji pulled out one of the table chairs and sat down with a wince. “What are you doing in here?” he asked.
Zoro blinked at the cup. He sat up and peeled the oven mitt off his cheek. “That’s my line,” he yawned. “You’re supposed to be in bed.”
“If I have to stay one more day in the same room with the dirty laundry of four other guys, I’ll eat one of Usopp’s tabasco shots and end it all.”
“You coulda stayed in the infirmary.”
“Ha. Like you’d stay there even if Chopper tied you to the bed.”
He got a snort for that.
“Fine, but you still shouldn’t be moving around.”
“Then who’s going to cook breakfast? Actually, who has been cooking breakfast?”
Zoro made a face. “Nami, mostly. Which means we’ve had oats every day.” He pointed a calloused finger at a large silver pot that Sanji usually used for soups and stews. “It’s the only thing she can make enough of to stop Luffy’s whining. But she only uses water and charges for sugar. It’s like eating glue.”
Curious and slightly horrified, Sanji got up and peeked inside the pot. The dregs of the previous morning’s breakfast were stuck to the sides like cement.
“She just adds more water to that,” Zoro said, shuddering. “But,” he added with a frown. “That doesn’t mean you can cook. We can survive another day of it. Get back below before Chopper finds out you were here.”
Sanji eased himself back onto the chair and tapped his cigarette into the ashtray on the table. He locked eyes with the other man. “Why are you fussing over me, mosshead?”
“I’m not.”
“You are.”
“I’m not!”
“Then stop mothering me and get out of my kitchen.”
Zoro took an angry slug of the coffee. “You’re being an idiot.”
“I’m being an idiot?!”
The past week came rushing back in a tide of frustration. Maybe he’d completely imagined Zoro’s oblique admission in the water, or maybe he’d misinterpreted the irony-laced words. The swordsman wasn’t what you’d call the subtle type, after all.
Flushing with anger, Sanji stood up and jabbed his cigarette at Zoro’s chest. He’d had countless hours to stew over what had happened, and he was done dancing around it. “No. The one who’s been an idiot is a certain moronic swordsman who doesn’t give a shit if he dies. The idiot in this room is a muscle-bound steel-for-brains asshole who almost got himself killed but won’t admit it. The REAL idiot here is someone who talked big about becoming the world’s greatest swordsman and was about to throw it away for a bunch of second rate pirates!!!”
Zoro slammed the mug down with a crack. Color stained his cheeks, and his hands curled into fists. “Fine!”
“You’re just so thickheaded and overconfident and--!”
“I get it!”
“If you die, what’s going to— Wait. What did you say?”
Zoro sighed. “I said I get it, okay? It’s like I told you before in the water.”
Sanji stared at him.
“Now sit down before you fall over,” Zoro grumbled. He turned away and tried to mop up some of the splattered coffee with the oven mitt.
Sanji sat.
“I’m only going to say this once, so just shut up for five minutes.” Zoro sat back on the stool. He slouched against the wall, one hand gripping the lip of the wood, the other toying with the lacquered hilt of Wado Ichimonji. He took a deep breath. “I think…I could have taken him.”
Sanji surged back to his feet for one incandescent second and then promptly fell over. Zoro leapt off the stool and got him by the arm before he could completely stack it, but the look on the cook’s face was livid. Once upright again, he yanked his arm away with a snarl.
Zoro seized him by the shirt and pulled him in until they were nose to nose. “Just let me finish!” The words rushed from him as fast as he could get them out. “I think I could have taken him. I think I could have handled it. But I didn’t. You got there first, and I’m fucking sorry I put you in that position, okay?! I’m sorry about your hand!”
They both stood there breathing hard. After a few moments, Sanji closed his eyes. “Idiot,” he muttered.
Zoro glared but released the front of his shirt.
Sanji massaged the bridge of his nose. The smoke from the cigarette traced small circles above them both as his fingers worked. “All right, all right.” He sat back down and took a long sip from his coffee. Zoro retreated back to the stove and took a drink of his as well.
After a time, Sanji set down his mug and ran a hand through his hair. “Just…don’t be so eager to die, okay?”
“I’m not.”
“Good.”
“Good.”
“Now go to bed, Zoro. Or workout. Whatever. I’ll call you when breakfast is ready.”
The swordsman crossed his arms. “You’re the one who needs to go back to bed.”
“Not this again…”
“Look.” Zoro walked over to the ingredients that Sanji had gathered. Thick rashers of bacon, baskets of eggs, bottles of milk, wax paper wrapped bricks of butter, crème fraiche, sugar, flour, a jar of salt, a mortar filled with little black seeds, and a small potted plant were arranged neatly on the counter. “I’ll make breakfast.” He picked up the plant and eyed the sugar dubiously. “Whatever that’s supposed to be…”
Sanji took in the offer and baffled expression with undisguised amusement. “There are two dishes there. The eggs, butter, crème fraiche, salt, peppercorns, and chives are for scrambled eggs. The rest is for a cake.”
“A cake?”
“Yeah, for tonight’s party.”
“We’re having a party?”
“For Usopp. He blew up a galleon with a single cannon ball. If that’s not worth a party, I don’t know what is.”
“Huh. Fair point.”
Zoro hefted the basket of eggs and turned purposefully to the stove. “Do I just chuck these in--?”
Sanji limped over as fast as he could and seized the basket. “Let’s…start with the basics.” He set the eggs gently back on the counter. “If you’re determined to do this, first things first. Put on the apron…”
The End