Disclaimer: I own nothing of One Piece. The series, characters, and all materials you see in here are based off the manga, and belong to Oda and whoever he decided to share his rights with. NO PROFIT is being made off of this. This is a writing project done only for fun and writing critique. Please support the official release.

INTRODUCTION: … I dunno what to say. This kinda just came to me. I guess I just wanted to show Zoro and Sanji kinda being friends without knowing it? Take it how you please and try to enjoy as much as you can.

(XXX)

The morning air was giving way to a smoky afternoon in the port the Straw-hats had landed in. The smoke from Sanji's cigarette joined the sky in acridity, obscuring a few small patches of blue in a thin gray film. The cook took a fresh breath in after breathing out the tobacco. The feeling of clean oxygen filtering out his filthy lungs filled him with new satisfaction, like an ocean wave once more rising up to tackle the shoreline.

On days like this, when he wasn't out running errands for Nami and Robin, Sanji often had the deck to himself. Their stubborn captain would slip out no matter whether they tried to stop him or not, and Usopp and Chopper had made a habit of taking Brook out with them for a night on the town. Their mechanic was always searching for more supplies to feed his urge to build, Nami preferred to spend her time with her orange grove, and Robin often took to her room to read when she wasn't lounging in her deck chair. As for that shitty marimo …

"Oi, shitty cook."

… Today, that shitty marimo happened to be the only one disturbing Sanji's peaceful smoke-break.

Turning around, the blonde found Zoro had finally sauntered out of his quarters like a bear out of hibernation, stretching his powerful back muscles in an effort to wake them up.

"There you are, Marimo," Sanji greeted around the cigarette between his lips. "I was beginning to think you'd never wake up." He smirked to himself as he watched Zoro assess the sun's position with his one good eye.

"I hope you weren't expecting to be fed. Breakfast ended hours ago," Sanji teased, then inhaled another lungful of smoke.

"Why didn't anyone wake me?" the swordsman asked with a note of grumbling.

"We did," Sanji said. His words were more of an irritated exhalation of smoke than anything. "You slept like you were dead." The look he shot Zoro was unconcerned at best, but still held a faint curiosity. "Even Luffy jumped on your chest but you just kept snoring away."

"Huh," was all Zoro had to say in response before he was off to the galley. The cook rolled his eyes and flicked his cigarette over the edge of the boat and into the open water before following the other man.

He leaned against the doorway, watching as Zoro roughly searched the fridge and the cabinets, knowing the search would turn up empty.

"Luffy snuck in here behind my back after breakfast," he said at that kimono-clad back. "He totally cleaned us out. Now that you know, you can stop stomping through my kitchen like a brute."

Not one swirly eyebrow twitched at the scathing look Zoro sent the cook's way. "I thought part of your job as a chef was to make sure this didn't happen. How could you let him slip by you so easily?"

"Maybe I was tired," Sanji sighed angrily. "I don't get to sleep all day, unlike some ungrateful bastards."

"Tired?" Zoro asked, raising an eyebrow.

The blonde stiffened against the door frame, not liking the condescending once-over he was being given.

"Look, don't give me the evil eye. I was in the kitchen all morning and only stepped out long enough to collect the dishes after everyone finished eating. When I went back in, Luffy was there and had already eaten everything." With a shrug, Sanji straightened and gave Zoro a defeated grin. "You should know the most how hard it is to keep him from something he wants, Mister First-Mate."

"What am I supposed to do about breakfast, then?"

Sanji produced a small satchel from the inside pocket of his suit jacket, throwing it carelessly in the swordsman's direction. Zoro caught it effortlessly.

"Nami-swan left you some money so you could get a meal in town, though I don't know why. She really is too kind sometimes." Sanji said, lip curled up as if the man in front of him were some foul-smelling animal, but Zoro wasn't fazed, as usual. But what did catch the marimo's eye was the slight smile stretching across the blonde's face to replace his scowl. "Think you can make it back by yourself, or do you need me to hold your hand?"

Pushing past Sanji with an annoyed huff, Zoro growled, "Hell no. Who knows where your hands have been?" Sanji grinned widely at the swordsman's back as his heavy boots clomped loudly out of the galley.

Nowadays, smirks came easier between them and their retorts with more relent. Well, when they were alone, anyway. They were still incredibly ruthless with one another in front of others. But that was to be expected from a disagreement between a former bounty-hunter and a chef brought up in the volatile Baratie. Those men functioned almost purely on pride.

Sanji followed the other man onto the deck with a lazy pace, lighting up another cigarette as Zoro disappeared into his quarters and then returned with his swords. "Make sure you're back before evening. You wouldn't want to miss dinner too, now, would you?"

He expected a sharp retort, but was surprised when Zoro simply expelled a heavy sigh and tightened the sash holding up the swords around his waist. Sanji couldn't see his face, but noticed those strong shoulders and thick neck drooping slightly, as though he were still tired. Zoro hadn't been noticeably tired in a long time.

The swordsman waved without turning around and said a chaste goodbye.

"Wait," Sanji said, the exclamation out of his mouth before he could think to stop it. Zoro turned and acknowledged him. He stood and waited for the cook to say something, but was met with silence.

"What do you want, dartboard?" he said, getting impatient.

Eyes like two pieces of charcoal scraped over Zoro's face. The marimo's expression seemed to indicate alertness and focus, but his weariness showed in how his muscles flexed against what was obviously tight control. Something was up.

Sanji shook his head to clear his doubts. "Nothing. Get lost."

Frowning at him, Zoro huffed and jumped over the side of the ship. Sanji heard the devastating sound of those weighty boots colliding with the boardwalk. For a moment, the chef expected Zoro to have fallen through, but when he leaned over the deck railing and saw a green splotch dart out of the harbor and meld seamlessly with the crowd, a smile came over his face without him realizing.

(XXX)

When Sanji brought home the makings of a feast fit for a king, he found the evening sun burning intensely against the sky, slowly beginning its slip into nightly oblivion. His arms were loaded with fresh cuts of meat and vegetables all bundled up in one big package, courtesy of the merchant. He came aboard with his purchases and saw Nami on the deck, arguing with Luffy about something loudly.

"Nami-san, you shouldn't argue with our captain~" Sanji said, giving her a love-stricken smile from behind his packages. "We already know that Nami-san's right. Come now, I'll be starting dinner soon, and I don't want you to eat with such an angry heart~!"

"Oi, Sanji! You're supposed to be on your captain's side!" Luffy squawked, but the other two ignored him for the moment.

Sanji admired the beautiful woman's orange locks. Nami's hair, skin, and eyes were looking more luscious and full of life every day, as if she were growing and getting stronger every day like her patch of oranges. He remembered the time when he, Luffy, Zoro, and Usopp had to rescue her village from Aarlong's clutches. Every smile she gave under Aarlong's mark was fake. Sanji liked to think genuine smiles visited her face more frequently now.

"Is everyone back yet?" he asked her cheerily.

"Yeah," Nami affirmed with a small smile, ignoring Luffy for the moment. "Robin's in her quarters, Usopp, Brook and Chopper are putting away the supplies they bought, and Franky's down in his workshop."

"What about the marimo?" Sanji asked.

She only had to shrug and Sanji understood.

"Seriously? He's lost again?" he sighed, shaking his head. "That guy needs to learn to bring a map."

"Even if he did, he'd probably read it upside down," Nami commented, sharing a laugh with her nakama.

"I'll get started on dinner anyway. The smell will lead him home," Sanji said, awkwardly making his way to the galley, struggling to get the food through the door.

He wasn't long with preparing dinner, and when he began to serve everyone, the sun had already dipped out of the sky to make way for the first rays of shimmering moonlight. He saw that every seat was filled but one.

"Guess he's still not here, huh?" Sanji muttered under his breath. He and Nami exchanged a helpless glance. "Well, it's first come, first serve. Let's just hope Luffy doesn't eat us out of house and home again."

"We'll make sure that doesn't happen," Robin said in that gentle, lyrical voice of hers that soothed every nerve in the cook's body.

"Zoro always finds a way back. If he needs to, he'll get back here in time to defend his food," Usopp said through a mouthful of vegetables, looking pretty hungrily at what would have been Zoro's portion.

With one of those childish smiles the Straw-hats had gotten so used to, Luffy added, "After all, he is my first-mate."

Though Sanji had never really thought about it until then, he was finally struck by Zoro's status. He was the first Straw-hat, besides their leader. Everyone knew the marimo was one crazy bastard—they were all a little insane. They followed unreal dreams, conquered mountains and islands and plateaus previously only conceived in fantasy, and they risked their lives for these goal with an uncertain promise of reward. But Zoro wasn't just a crazy bastard—he was the very first to lose his God-given mind.

Now that Sanji thought about it, he wondered just why Zoro joined in the first place. None of the Straw-hats talked too much about why they joined, or what their personal background entailed. For some crew members like Robin and Franky, it was inevitable that through the crimes that sent them to Enies Lobby, their personal history would come out. But otherwise, apart from stating their goals, they didn't explain what their preceding life was like. Their future was piracy—it didn't matter where they came from as long as their captain believed in them.

Or so Sanji thought, but he found himself wondering what could make Zoro—famous pirate-hunter—join forces with a kid who had no navigational skills, no reputation, and no common sense. And why, exactly, did Zoro wish to become the greatest swordsman in the world?

Sanji stood leaning against the wall as he contemplated, seemingly unwilling to join in on the carefree conversation being made at the dining table. Eventually he left the company of his other crew members to go back onto the deck for a smoke.

The air was just as smoggy as it had been in the afternoon, covering the ship in a thick black shroud. A fickle wind was making lighting up difficult. After wasting a few matches, he managed to get the cigarette burning and took a deep drag to clear his mind. But when he looked out over the deck, he saw something that made him hold in his breath until his lungs burned from caress of tobacco and tar.

Right near the mast, the Sandai Kitetsu was driven into the wood, submerged to almost half its length. It stood straight up, sheath lying dejectedly right beside, and the silver edge glinted beneath the taint of its purple decoration—like dark clouds on a clear horizon. The sword's master was nowhere to be found. No boots were heard stomping around, no green head of hair appeared out of nowhere. The sword's ominous, abnormally-straight posture filled the deck with so much soul and yet left it barren and empty in light of its missing wielder. It called the chef, drawing him to its solemn position embedded painfully in the Sunny's wooden flesh. The sword radiated a feeling of dark expectation and acceptance, as if one could simply pick it up and learn how they would die. This sword had certainly orchestrated its own share of deaths as well.

He took the hilt in his hands and with a quick jerk freed the sword from the deck like Excalibur from the stone. He turned the blade over in his hands, examining it.

"So this is one of your swords, huh?" he muttered to himself.

Then, for a moment, his nerve endings caught fire, glimpsing what felt like the presence of Zoro nearby. He whipped around as if he expected to see the swordsman behind him, but of course, he saw nothing. And yet that glimpse brought on an all-consuming anxiety. It was as if his nakama's presence had been revealed to him for the first time, just before being curtly snuffed out. Or, more accurately, it was as if a "voice" had called out and then been seemingly silenced forever as soon as it spoke.

Quickly sheathing the sword, Sanji took it with him as he ran back into the kitchen to show the others. From the way the blade weighed down Sanji's movements and heart with that silent, beckoning call to the grave, he had a sickening feeling that Zoro was more than "lost."