My first story after three long years without posting anything here! Hope you will enjoy!

~Into the depths of self discovery~

He woke up by his window slamming the walls of his room in the wind. The blonde yawned. He probably forgot to close the window before he went to bed last night. Too lazy to get up he lingered in his comfortable cocoon of bed linen. The blond idly stared into the brown wooden ceiling with half covered eyes. Was it saturday? No, it couldn't be. Sunday? "Fucked if I knew" he muttered to himself as he turned his tired but still handsome face towards the clock radio to gain enlightment about what time it was. He blinked to make the fuzzy red numbers come into focus. Then blinked again. Three minutes past ten. So it was still weekend. Otherwise his cell would have gone off an hour ago when Zeff, the owner of the restaurant he worked at, would call to scold the shit out of him for being late.

Sanji's room wasn't very personal. The walls were light yellow and naked. No decorations except an old, faded poster that read "All blue". The floor was like a mirror reflecting the ceiling since it was made of the same wood. Two windows and a tiny balcony that hoovered over the lawn were the biggest light sources. Apart from the modest bed he was sleeping in he had a desk, a lanky chair, a wardrobe with a mirror, a bedside table and two book shelves. The book shelves were made of oak and were probably the prettiest thing he had in the room, except the books filling them up of course. He had a wide selection of literature. Mostly about cooking. The teal plastic bag filled with new books he bought yesterday was laying thrown at the floor next to the door.

After becoming the sous-chef at the restaurant he DID earn enough to get himself a decent apartment but he had gotten so used to this room he rented. It felt like his sanctuary where he could rest after a tough day's work and he wasn't sure he wanted to find out wether another place would make him feel the same.

After all he had the pivacy he wanted eventhough his room was placed on top of an old couple's house; He had his own bathroon with a shower, a small kitchenette opposite of the bathroom (the two rooms being seperated by a tiny, tiny hall) and the stairs that led down to ground level were seperated from the rest of the house. So he didn't have to interact with the couple living there unless he wanted to. They were two ridiculously kind persons anyway and it was always nice take some money off of the rent by cooking them one of his outstanding meals from time to time.

Sanji slowly sat up in his bed facing the window. The sun playfully placed its rays in his messy hair and made it look like gold. His back was crooked and his eye lids were heavy. Underneath his currently illuminated hair his world was lightly spinning. He grunted as he rubbed the sleep out of his ocean blue eyes. He shouldn't have had that last shot of tequila at the club with his friends last night. He wasn't a big fan of alcohol anyway, especially not that kind you had just to surpress your fears and thoughts to act on instincts.

He'd seen it too many times — the pathetic guys that didn't have the guts to approach a woman without gulping themselves full of poison, like their lives depended on it, first. When it came to alcohol he prefered a fine wine in good company of a classy lady. But yesterday night getting drunk seemed like a good idea. He had too much going on in his head lately and he hadn't slept decently for a long time. So yeah, that night was well deserved exception.

The young chef's legs were coated in soft, grey fabric sewn into sweat pants. They were hanging pretty low on his hips revealing the black underwear hugging his hips. He slipped his feet inside a pair of white slippers with rabbit ears. He had gotten them as a joke once but at least they kept him from freezing. The blonde stood up and went over to the window. He had to squint as the daylight now shone straight in his face. Placing his elbows on the window sill he noticed a pack of cigarettes and a lighter. That's probably why the window was left open. He was smoking last night and in his numb state he had probably left the red and white package of smokes over there and stumbled into bed.

He took out one of the sticks and lit up. The wind played with his golden bangs as he felt the nicotine stimulate his body. He was watching a ludicrously happy family having breakfast picnic in the city park his rented room was close to. He observed them for a minute before he lost interest. With an indifferent expression on his face he turned around and looked at the plastic bag waiting for him on the floor. Lips curling into a frown.

~—:~:—*—:~:—~

Zoro kicked his shoes off before he stepped up from the genkan in his two room apartment. He sighed heavily and threw his black shoulder bag on the couch. He was fucking exhausted — again. This job was killing him. He thought that after graduating it wouldn't be so damn hectical but he was wrong. He thought a job would leave him with free time after returning home — wrong again. The tall green haired man opened the fridge and looked for something liquid. He found a bottle of grapefruit juice.

"Whatever" he mumbled as he opened it and started drinking straight from the bottle.

He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and threw the bottle into the glass container. Even before Zoro graduated three months ago he had a job offer waiting for him. It was one of Tokyo's top agencies that had had their eyes on him. Zoro of course accepted. The monthly pay was ridiculously high but he hadn't known it would be so goddamn hectic. Well, he had to admit he still loved the job. The income also let him pay off his study loans and still he was left with more than enough money every month.

The young man went over to the mirror in his hallway. He eyed himself tiredly. His green hair was cut into a short, neat, fashionable hair style. The sides being shorter and the hair on top slightly longer. All held in place with just the right ammount of wax. His masculine face with that beautiful sun-kissed skin was decorated with a pair of glasses. The frame of the 70's-inspired glasses was jet black. In his left ear dangled three golden earrings. They made pleasant, modest noises when he was moving his head around.

Below his strong, square jaw a coffee coloured scarf was hugging his neck loosely. His muscular, broad upper body was covered by a grey t-shirt with some colourful print. On top of that he wore a black suit jacket. A belt was keeping the blue slim fit jeans in place and the white sneakers he wore to the outfit were laying next to the door.

Zoro got closer to the mirror and rubbed the visible bags under his eyes. "Man, this job is gonna kill me one day" he muttered to himself. After realizing the bags wouldn't come off by rubbing he turned around to look at the digital clock on the microwave. Three minutes past five.

His left wrist was decorated with a white, plastic binary clock. The contrast it made against his tanned skin looked amazing. Zoro, however, prefered to consult the microwave in this matter since he couldn't decipher the damn wrist watch anyway. It was just there to look neat.

Something tickled his thigh followed by a squeeky tone. It didn't take long before he realized it was his cell. He picked up:

"Hello?" It was his boss.

"Zoro-san, don't forget we need those setups before 6:30 tonight, okay? Please hurry. Good luck!"

His boss then quickly hung up. The exhausted young man sighed and put the metallic red phone down on the transparent coffee-table. The phone strap with the japanese sign for "ambition" made a small noise as it hit the glass.

The green haired man leaned over to the other couch next to him, to dig out the content of his black leather bag. When he got his sleek, black laptop out he put it on the coffee table and turned it on. After eying the blue LED lights dancing playfully over the keyboard as the computer turned on, he decided to go get a cup of coffee.

His apartment was modern and stylish. The walls in the living room, which was connected with the kitchen, were bright grey. Except the longest wall which consisted of a photo wallpaper of bamboo. The two couches were made of black leather. A grey and black zebra print carpet covered the bright parquet floor.

His kitchen was new and hi-tech. Zoro wasn't much of a cook though and usually always fed on take-away. So his kitchen looked almost unused. The wall to the right of his kitchen, opposite his couches, was entirely made of glass. It gave an amazing view over Tokyo since he lived on the top floor. The biggest reason he bought the flat in the first place, was cause of the view. He loved how the sun filled the room in the mornings. It put him in a good mood. And the sunsets were just out of this world.

The bathroom was made of grey sea stone and glass. It was unnecessarily spaceous and had both a huge shower and a big jacuzzi-looking bathtub. Everywhere were plants and spotlights. He even had two washbasins. One of the walls had a tiny, modest waterfall and another wall held white towels. There were huge windows is his bathroom as well, but luckily they came with straw blinds.

Zoro's bedroom was simple. Quite small but big enough to fit a king size bed. This room also had bright grey walls but instead of the fourth wall being covered with a bamboo print it was covered with a jungle one. Opposite his bed stood a stylish red couch on which he usually threw his clothes.

~—:~:—*—:~:—~

Sanji picked up the plastic bag with books. He eyed it suspiciously, as if it would bite him if he put his hands inside. Suddenly he threw it on his bed and started rubbing his stomach. He wasn't wearing a shirt and one could easily see the muscles under his milky skin. He wasn't a man of raw strength, but god save the one who underestimated his lethal combination of agility and technique. The blonde often practiced his fighting style in the dojo nearby. Martial arts was a big interest of his and a nice contrast to the busy life of cooking. But he didn't like to use his hands in combat, hence he developed his own fighting style — entierly based on kicks.

He headed for the fridge in his small kitchenette. It offered him a yoghurt which probably was old already and two eggs. He made a disappointed face. Closing the fridge door he decided to grab a shower and head out.

Sanji toweled his golden strands. He threw on his grey sweats again along with a white t-shirt. It had a nice v-neck and revealed his sleek but yet muscular chest. He jumped into his black pumas, grabbed the bag with books and started locking the door. Holding the keys mid-air he froze. "Ah!" he blurted out and ran inside after his cigarettes and his cell that he forgot right before leaving. He made a second attempt at locking his door and leaving - succesfully this time. He ran down the stairs and disappeared.

~—:~:—*—:~:—~

Zoro put down his now empty cup of coffee on the table. He had just finished his work and looked forward to taking a nap. He checked the time again. 10 minutes before deadline. Exactly when he sent the material to his boss via mail his phone started vibrating on the table again. He picked up.

"This is Zoro. I can't pick up right now so plea— " he was interrupted.

"Really funny Zoro-san, I need those setups now! We're running out of time an— oh! I just got your mail! Never mind. Have a good evening!"

The green haired man leaned his head backwards on the dorsal of the couch. He stared distantly into the ceiling for a while. Closing his eyes, he took a deep breath. After a while of relaxing he turned his head to look at his three katana hanging safely on the wall. He got the urge to go practice with them but was too tired. It had to wait. He didn't like how his new job made him put his hobbies aside, but he needed the cash.

After another quick look at his katana he jumped out of the couch. "Fuck it" he said bluntly, and grabbed his three most precious belongings from the wall. He packed them down with care in the rectangular bag. After harassing the red couch by throwing his clothes on it, he was now dressed for Kendo practice. He left his apartment (which to Zoro's happiness had an auto lock on the door) and headed for the elevator. Right before the doors closed he waved to a neighbour that curiously peeked inside.

He threw the bag into the back seat of his sleek, carbon black aston martin and took off.