Chapter Two
Caveat Emptor
No one ever told me when I was alone they just thought I'd know better, better
The hardest part, this troubled heart has never yet been through now
Was heal the scars, that got their start inside someone like you now
For had I known or I'd been shown back when how long it'd take me
To break the charms That brought me harm And all but would erase me
I never would or thought I could No matter what you'd pay me
Replay the part You stole my heart I should have known you're crazy
If all I knew Was that with you I'd want someone to save me
It'd be enough, But just my luck I fell in love and maybe
So bittersweet This tragedy Won't ask for absolution
This melody Inside of me Still searches for solution
A twist of faith, a change of heart, cures my infatuation
A broken heart provides the spark For my determination
"Better" - Guns N Roses
~0~
The katanas were rather expensive at this shop.
Well, it wasn't like he didn't have any money. Quite the opposite really; but still, that didn't mean he could run around wasting it. Frugality was an important aspect of being a swordsman. Restraint and control were important when it came to training your soul. Anyway, if Nami learned that he had spent this much on a single katana, she was apt to tear his balls off. He clicked his tongue disapprovingly as he looked at the price tag clipped on to the handle of the sword. But he did need an extra sword.
Immediately, the shop keeper was there, on his knees, fawning and kowtowing obscenely, "Does the Royal Swordsman wish for anything in my humble store?" He managed to snag one of his hands and plant a worshipful kiss on the back. "Does the price not please you, Master Roronoa?"
Zoro tried not to grimace outright at the unwanted caress, but managed to casually place his hands on his hips so they wouldn't tempt the man again, "Well, I'm thinking that the price for these katana aren't very fair for their quality. Some of the hilts are chipped-yet, you're selling them for 100,000 Belli!" He picked up a black one and showed the broken handle to the storekeeper."A swordsman can hurt himself rather badly if he grips a broken hilt hard enough." Zoro shrugged.
"Then I will change the price immediately Master Roronoa! I would be fool indeed to not heed the advice of a man with such expertise in swordsmanship! I think maybe 40,000 belli then? Or-No! I humbly ask that you name a price for these katana!" the storekeeper paused breathlessly.
"Err…How about 50,000 belli?" Zoro scratched his head thoughtfully.
"Marvelous! What ingenuity! What fairness! What utter skill in everything pertaining to swords! What tremendous justice! What sheer-" The store proprietor was quickly turning an alarming shade of red.
"Woah, woah-don't hurt yourself." Zoro held his hands up in mock defense, chuckling embarrassedly, "Anyway, I'm looking for a sword myself-around the 100,000 belli range…"
"Of course Master! I am nothing but an uneducated brute to not have remembered that the Master originally came looking for a katana! 100,000 belli sword? Impossible! The Master Swordsman of Arabasta does not pay money here! But he will get the best in the shop!" With this, the shopkeeper scampered off to another part of the small store, muttering his praises.
Zoro sighed, it would be of no use to try to pay for the katana now. He always felt guilty (and a little bit annoyed) whenever he received this kind of treatment; but he had long ago given up trying to fight it. Now, he just accepted it mildly and tried not to exploit it too much.
Ever since he had been named Royal Swordsman of the Court by King Cobra of Arabasta, for having saved the lives of the king and princess from the clutches of a malevolent pirate crew, he had been receiving this unfathomable excess of admiration.
He still didn't get how that had happened. He really had no intention of saving them. He had just been walking along, minding his own business, when a tall, ugly man had babbled something about gettting off the road because that was 'his part of the town'. Of course he had ignored him and somehow, the man had deemed this sufficient justification for the subsequent attempt on his life.
But it turned out that the man and his crew was just talk; they went down in three seconds flat. He didn't even break a sweat. And then suddenly he was surrounded by jubilant hordes and admiring soldiers, crying 'hero!' and 'savior!' And the way things turned out, he had just saved a king and his royal daughter, the beloved monarchs of the country.
Not too shabby for a man who had been previously wandering around the country with only the three swords strapped to his waist and the clothes on his back to his name.
And then the processions, rewards, titles, and money had come rolling in. He suddenly found himself comfortably established in an entire wing of the royal palace with his own bedrooms, kitchens, bathrooms, and servants. And with various titles of acclaim, 'Royal Swordsman of Arabasta,' 'Great Guard of Trial,' and others, just as magnanimous and silly. He had become the country's hero overnight. And the hub-bub had still not died down. Everywhere he went, he was treated as a god.
Not too shabby at all….but at times, yes, a little bit annoying.
"This one is the best in the shop! From the twenty-one named swords-"
Zoro held up one hand in interruption, "I'm not here to steal your family heirloom, old man. I just need a good practice sword. Here, I'll take this one."He softened the refusal with an apologetic smile, and reached behind him to pull a medium-grade sword off a stand on a wall.
Before the shopkeeper could protest, Zoro murmured a quick 'thank you' and beat a fast retreat, closing the door quietly but firmly behind him.
The shopkeeper gave an appreciative murmur; it had been hard offering up his katana which had been in his family for generations-but the Master Swordsman had deserved it. A delighted smile spread across the old man's wizened features as he spotted the wad of cash left by Zoro on the empty shelf, once occupied by the red katana. Easily more than 100,000.
"What a great man…" he murmured contentedly. All was right in Arabasta if there were men like that in the Royal Palace.
~0~
Hopefully he'll find the money Zoro thought, continuing his stroll through the marketplace. He didn't want to abuse his position, and even less did he want to cause other people pain by doing so.
He nodded kindly to the various salutations he received from the civilians, stopping to greet one or another and to inquire over their health. It was much less crowded than it would usually have been and Zoro paused to glance around questionably; wondering where everyone had gone. The streets were relatively empty on what would normally be a bustling market day.
"Oh! Master Roronoa! What are you doing here? The excitement's down at the pier!" A matronly old woman called out as she waddled past him in the direction of the beach, "Come along! You might be able to pick up a thing or two if we hurry!"
Zoro grinned as he fell into step with the bustling character, "What's so great down there that everyone's gone and left? Don't they know the Royal Swordsman is here?" he accused jokingly.
"Oh ho! They're selling slaves down there right this minute! It's quite the event as there hasn't been a slaver ship since, oh, I'd say-ten years! Straight from the Sabaody Archipelago near the New World. Or so they say," the woman answered, and then sighed, " Poor things. They've no doubt come from strange exotic tropical islands, and now they're fated to die in the desert." She shook her head sadly, "But what am I to do? Anyway, I'm going down there now to cast an eye over the wares. The Sexy Foxy has been around the globe and back! It must have amazing things for sell! Ah! I can hear the commotion from here!"
Zoro cocked his head; sure enough he could hear the sounds of a busy auction already. He could even see the crowds of people and the auctioneer hopping from foot to foot excitedly as he bawled out something.
A scream snatched his attention.
Grabbing the hilts of his swords, and issuing a word of warning to the plump matron, Zoro strode forward warily; could be there was a rowdy personage who was disturbing the peace and needed a conversation with his swords to see reason. He pressed through the crowd to the front where it seemed the ruckus was. Several people made way for him and patted him affectionately on the back as he moved between them.
It seemed however, that everything was under control, the auctioneer was just presenting some rather noisy slaves. Zoro could hear the struggle the Foxy crew was having bringing them out. He sheathed his swords back and gave a sympathetic glance at the timid figures with the large steel collars and chains hanging off their hands and looping around their necks.
He wasn't overly fond of the slave auctions of the Sabaody. He found the slave trade repulsive and its existence a sore on the hide of humanity. But it was a practice he had never really witnessed or experienced first hand. It was something he knew existed...but not something he really thought about on a day to day basis. Looking at the pitiful conditions of the slaves now, he wished he could free them and ban the practice altogether. But to upset the slave trade was to invite unnecessary danger. The auctions were a great favorite of the Tennryuubito. The World Nobles. No one fucked with their dirty obsession with human slaves and lived to tell that particular tale. He would be an ant to them, royal swordsman or not.
He turned to leave. A dark frown on his face, his shoulders tense with distaste. He didn't need to see this.
"I give you…Item Number Sixteen!" The auctioneer screamed as though he was announcing the arrival of God himself descending from the very heavens. He turned back, drawn by the tension in the auctioneer's voice and the sudden ripple in the crowd as the next human item was brought out for the public's bidding. Zoro's eyes narrowed as he tried to discern the approaching figures. What unfortunate souls were being forced out onto the auction block? A dozen beautiful maidens from Amazon Lily? Or a trio of desperate captured pirate captains? The jailers were making enough noise they seemed to be dragging either a whole horde of slaves or a giant from the famed country of Elbaf.
Zoro could feel his pulse quicken as the commotion came into full light.
It was...a man.
One man.
And it was taking-Zoro counted quickly under his breath, and then recounted again in disbelief-thirty five men to drag him step by unwilling step to the auction block. At least ten had some kind of physical hold on him, and the other twenty five or so were straining on a jungle of ropes that seemed to be looped around, tightened on, and knotted over what seemed to be every single point of body that a rope could possibly attach to. And still, they were advancing at a snail's pace. The chained man was coming, but not easily. He was making nearly forty men sweat for every step they sought to bring him forward. Someone next to him whistled softly; and others around him quickly nodded their agreement. Zoro felt goosebumps ripple up his back, it was an impressive sight. Sorrowful, but impressive. He forgot that he had meant to leave.
The auctioneer bawled: "Ascertain for yourself this man's strength! He would make an excellent human horse or a farm laborer!" The auctioneer called out over the excited buzz. "This slave can act as a bodyguard as well!" He turned and muttered some instructions to the soldiers.
Long chains of kairouseki appeared and were quickly wrapped around the man's legs; miles and miles it seemed of the grey chains spent on the lower body; Zoro noticed, but only a single chain for each arm. Curious. Devil Fruit user? He wondered.
Little by little, the crew withdrew from around the sole form and the man finally became Foxy's crew forced the man to his knees, striking him with steel poles until he bent, and wrapping the chains to poles quickly driven deep into the ground. His arms, also chained, (what wasn't at this point?) were forced behind him and handcuffed. It was a scene of execution.
Zoro looked on with interest, and with more than a little pity; the man was tall-around 6'3-and the first thing Zoro noted was his yellow hair. It was slightly long, swept over his eye and down a bit on the back of his neck. Now, it was dirty, filthy really, and matted with what seemed blood, sweat, and tears. But clean, it must have been the color of spun gold.
The slave was only wearing a pair of loose black pants which were now tattered and ripped. His torso was that of a warrior, skin that wasn't tan, but healthy peach, rippling over with taut muscles. His shoulders broad, his chest well built and muscled, abdominals chiseled, arms thick with the mass of his biceps and triceps. Even through the grime and sweat, the blood that had dried to a rusty red film all over him, Zoro could see the strength in that chained and captive body.
He was a handsome man.
Zoro felt his throat tighten unconsciously. He couldn't make out the man's face. It was half-covered by his mop of dirty hair and the slave hung his head low, as though ashamed of his position. He moved closer, intrigued.
"This man was captured at high cost! But what a catch! Not only as powerful as fifty men put together, but a man of refined and cultured tastes! He has the prowess and training of a master chef-put him to work in the kitchen and you'll eat like a king for the rest of your days!" The auctioneer continued to bawl out the slave's attributes.
"Is he going to be ok?" A prospective buyer demanded, looking skeptically at the blood drenching the slave's body, both maroon stains and the crimson splashes of new blood tattooed his body horribly. "Look at all that blood on him…He won't last long if he's lost this much already."
"He'll be fine," one of the men who had helped drag the slave out answered dryly, "Because you see, it's not his. It's ours." He seemed to be nursing a broken nose.
"Why does he have a cigarette in his mouth?" someone else asked curiously. Zoro looked closer at the slave's mouth and indeed saw a limp, discolored, but also bloody, cigarette dangling out of the corner of his mouth. It wasn't lit, and seemed ready to fall into pieces, but it seemed to cling tenaciously to his lips, almost in defiance.
"We weren't able to take it away from him." muttered another crew member who was sporting various bruises on his face and arms as well as a large goose-egg lump on his forehead, "And believe me when I say we tried.".
Taking a glance around, Zoro could see various people readying their wallets for the commencement of the bidding. Everyone seemed to want to bid on Item Number Nineteen. The master chef, warrior, blond slave who looked lovely, but would probably taste deadly. He wondered how these bidders would think to handle such a man who had needed a crew to haul him fifteen yards.
"Reach for your money bags ladies and gentlemen," the auctioneer cried out, "not only can he be used as a strong worker; but also look at this pretty face!" With a mischievous grin, the auctioneer hopped off his stool and walked casually over toward the bound figure of the blond. He ran a hand through the yellow hair, and seizing a filthy handful, jerked the blond head up, revealing the man's features. The auctioneer was clearly joking; a guilty chuckle swept the crowd.
Zoro's gaze studied the man's face. It was strong, there was a dignity and a coldness there that surprised him. There was no shame, only a cold and calculating anger that seemed to say that the owner of that anger was above everything around him. His eyes were chips of blue fire. They surveyed the rowdy crowd and Zoro felt dismissal in that haughty gaze.
Zoro turned to leave. He didn't want to watch anymore. This was a travesty and a tragedy. He didn't want to see in whose hands this slave would fall into...although, judging by the repressed fury he could discern lurking beneath the kneeling form, the highest bidder here would undoubtedly find himself with more than he had bargained for. Zoro was on the verge of taking a step when the auctioneer's next words caused him once again to turn back, fixated.
The auctioneer seemed to be speaking right to him: "I daresay this man is the strongest man in these parts. I haven't seen a fighter like him in decades! He could make an excellent human punching bag! Imagine having the strongest man on this side of the Grand Line at your beck and call!"
Zoro found himself returning to the front in spite of himself. There was no way in hell that this blond could be the strongest warrior this side of the Grand Line. No way in hell. Simply because, he was the strongest guy here. And what's more, everybody knew it. Why the hell had he been named Royal Swordsman if he wasn't? Zoro cast another glance over the bound figure. Muscular, lean, lithe, the prisoner was a powerful man, no doubt. But the actual extent of his power remained unknown…no way to find that out unless…
No. He wasn't about to bid in a goddamned slave auction. He was above that.
I could buy him...save him….he would be grateful. I could set him free, like I did Usopp. We could have a sparring match or two and then he can go home. His hands gripped the hilt of his katana unconsciously. Then why do I feel so strange about it…?
"No one here can take this man!" The almost-forgotten auctioneer bellowed out as prices began to be called in and people edged in closer to take a look at the infamous prisoner.
I just want someone to fight with that's on my level-
"If he's so strong, how are we gonna control him?" demanded one man. The crowd murmured in agreement.
He can't go to any of these idiots. They'll break his spirit-or he'll kill them before the day is out.
"Very easy," was the smooth answer, "Before you leave with this man, we will fit an exploding collar on his neck. If he tries to escape or disobey you then you can trigger the explosion. It won't kill him of course…but it'll take the fight out of him!"
Zoro could feel anger clawing its way up his throat. He gripped his katana's hilt so tightly his knuckles turned red, then white.
These bastards.
A mulling pause greeted this statement. And the bidding commenced.
"30 million belli!" Roared out some oaf.
They don't deserve him.
"45 million belli!"
They'll destroy him.
"50 million be-"
I need to do something.
"59 million-"
I need to save him.
"100 million." Zoro's voice cut through the tumultuous rabble of the crowd. There was a small moment, infinitesimal really, but powerful nonetheless, in which he felt that that voice he heard was not his own. But then reality crashed back in and he knew he had bid, and bid high. There was a split second of pure silence that was immediately succeeded by a wave of awed whispers. He had bid to win. He folded his arms across his chest, waiting for challenge. He was outwardly stoic, inside he was a curious combination of ecstatic and nervous as he fixed his gaze on the slave.
The blond slave, who had heretofore not even deigned to glance at the contestants for his ownership, had instead, been disdainfully playing the abused cigarette across his lips and watching the ground in contempt, slowly raised his head. He seemed to know exactly where Zoro's voice had come from for he fixated his cold glare on Zoro. Something about that mad gaze made his stomach do a slow flip-flop.
Zoro continued to wait patiently for a contest; when none was forthcoming, he made his way, quietly but decisively, towards the auctioneer. He caught his name fluttered from mouth to ear and ear to mouth as he strode his way to the front. The price he had paid repeated and repeated incredulously.
When Nami heard about this little excursion she was going to do her best to publicly castrate him. One hundred million. What in the name of all the Gods had possessed him to offer such an amount? For nothing more than a slave? What exactly was he planning to do with this blond man whose name he didn't even know? In the heat of the bidding he had lost his restraint.
All he had been thinking was that he couldn't let a chance like this pass uninvited Someone who might be able to match his level in power and skill would be an invaluable training help. No one here in Arabasta was worth a sorry shit in battle. Pell, the so-called Strongest Warrior of Arabasta, has lasted three seconds against him. And he couldn't let this man be sold to anyone else. Something deep inside him had forbidden it.
But if he was having any second thoughts, it was too late. He had reached the auctioneer's platform. Digging into his haramaki, beneath the long black and white robe he wore to protect against the hammering heat, Zoro dug out a rather large money sack and tossed it into the eager hands of the portly man.
"Keep the change."
"Yes! Yes, thank you Master Roronoa! You will not regret this amazing purchase! Please, please accept my warmest gratitude and congratulations over your buy!" The auctioneer bowed obnoxiously. Zoro had the sudden urge to punch him in his face. He wasn't fooled by the merchant act. He knew pirates when he saw them.
"Thanks, "Zoro muttered instead. He turned, a strange lump in his throat, to look at the slave. He was pinned by dark blue eyes. There was so much hate and anger churning in those depths that Zoro felt the need to take a step back, but he resisted the urge strongly, not wanting the slave to think him fearful.
Meanwhile the auctioneer, whose hands never had left the bag, and who had succeeded determining the quantity of money through the thin cloth with his fingers; was happily and hurriedly barking directions at some of the crew who were standing to attention around the auction block.
They came running dragging what seemed to be miles of stain link chains and the infamous exploding collar. The unwieldy collar, looking torturously heavy and undeniably ugly with all the misery it implied struck him with another wash of anger. They stopped expectantly behind the blond man, looking to Zoro for a nod of approval to fit the collar. He held up a hand and motioned that they wait.
The blond slave turned around slightly. He must have seen the yards of dark, heavy steel ropes, most of it covered in sticky, maroon stains. He must have seen the exploding collar. Something flickered in the pits of cobalt blue. It was such a strange out-of-context expression that Zoro had trouble identifying it at first. It was-It was annoyance. Not fear, not even nervousness. Just a cool look of annoyance. His admiration grew.
Zoro cleared his throat, it was strangely dry. "Hey, you." Not sure how to address someone you just bought.
No answer. The blond man continued to roll the beaten up joint in his mouth. Continued to stare at him with eyes that seemed to demand him bare his soul.
"Hey! Your master asked you a question! Answer him, slave!" A crewmember, attempting to curry favor, yelled out from behind the slave, he kicked the blond viciously in the side. The man bore it silently, emotionlessly, not even seeming to feel it.
But Zoro actually saw a red film drop over his clear vision, his hand gripped the hilt of his katana so hard that it cut into his hand. He felt fury, shame, sadness, confusion. So many mixed emotions when he saw the trickle of blood the kick had drawn dribble down the man's unprotected side. He didn't understand himself why he felt so much at the sight of blood. The crewmember who had kicked the slave must have seen his death writ in Zoro's face because he shrank away and vanished into the ship.
"Are you okay?" Zoro asked, trying to sound as kind as possible, but letting his irritation show at the same time. "That idiot. If I see his face again I promise you he'll regret the day." Why he felt the need to protect-or avenge-this man was beyond him but the need to do so was surprisingly strong.
"If your kick can't at least break a rib then it's time to stop trying," the man said, sounding arrogant, incredibly casual, and more than a little contemptuous.
He was relieved that the slave was fine. Zoro took heart. He felt none of that contempt and hate he felt coming off the slave in waves directed towards himself. Perhaps the slave could sense the good nature of his intentions, could feel his genuine empathy. He did not want to start off wrongly with this man. He sensed a good man under all that dirt and all those chains. He sensed a kindred spirit. More, he sensed a friend. A friend he could spar with, talk with, fight with, maybe even travel afar with. Arabasta was beautiful, but it was also lonely.
"Got a name?" Zoro asked.
The blond chuckled, sounding genuinely amused and as cool as if though he were discussing this over cups of steaming coffee. It was admirable, considering he was chained and sentenced to imprisonment for life. His voice was cool, so goddamn cool, as he spoke. "My name is my own business. I won't have a stranger I don't know say my name like he knows me… especially when he pretends to have bought me." The last few words were seeped in venom and danger. And warning.
He could feel the eyes of the crewmembers turning from the slave to himself, wanting to see what each would do. Zoro didn't want to continue this conversation in front of the crowd. He could see the auctioneer tapping his foot impatiently, waiting for him and his slave to vacate the auction block.
"This isn't what it seems like," Zoro said, sounding both boorish and uncouth. "I don't usually-do this kind of thing-I just-couldn't help it. You seemed miserable." He finished lamely.
The slave eyeballed him strangely. His eyes were bright with suspicion. "So you say." He dropped his voice to a whisper and the crew, standing well out of earshot, didn't hear his next words. "Don't fool yourself. True, you don't seem to be like the rest of the rabble," he motioned with his head to where the men and women who had bought slaves already were getting the collars fitted to thier purchases, exploding collars in some cases. "But nevertheless the second I get a chance or you turn your back, I'll be gone… or you'll be dead-if you even try to stop me." The blond raised his head and Zoro found himself staring into cobalt eyes, a blue so dark they seemed black, and so filled with hatred, contempt and rage that Zoro felt the goosebumps break out on his back.
He could feel the weight of his misery, the trials of his soul.
He could taste his spirit, that of a fighter, that of a warrior.
Zoro felt something flare in recognition in the pit of his stomach. He had not been wrong. Here was somebody who could keep up with him. Match him in strength, resolve, determination, and power. Here was an invaluable companion, a potential friend. Someone he could fight against and with. There was a word for it, for those that destiny had bonded together forever...nakama. Why he felt so strongly that this was so was ridiculous, yet so unquestionable at the same time.
Meanwhile the slave continued to speak, his voice rising in anger, mistaking Zoro's silence with sullenness."Don't think that I won't kill you. I am capable of it. If you dare try to keep me in this foreign country-if you try to use me as a goddamn human horse-I'll rip your entire dick off-balls and all. You'll piss sitting down to the end of your days."
Zoro sighed as he looked down at the blond, and rubbed his temple in exasperation, thoughts of nakama and destiny fled his mind as he looked down at the rage apparent in the slave's face. He felt no sense of control over this man, even with the chains drawn tight all over his fatigued body. None at all.
He glanced up and saw the waiting soldiers with the expectant chains in their hands. "Put those away" he ordered. He would no more use them on this man than he would on an innocent person. He would not. He could not.
"But Master Roronoa, the man's dangerous-" one protested.
"Put them away," Zoro repeated, "And take the other chains off of him too."
There was an apprehensive and worried murmur and a more than a few in the audience left the scene in a hurry. He didn't really know what would happen when the chains came off. The slave might flee, might decide to reap vengeance on the men who had enslaved him in the first place, might attempt to kill him. But something in him told him that this last would not happen.
The crewmembers gulped but they moved forward with a ring of keys and began to unlockmost of the chains, jumping back every time a chain was loosened, as if the blond might rise up and attack any moment. By the end of five minutes, the blond man was left kneeling with only a pair of handcuffs and a chain between his feet. The man had not resisted the freeing or tried to mangle any of the soldiers; he had simply let them near and had silently accepted the liberation. His eyes never left Zoro's. Suspicion gleamed brightly in them.
A few other crewmember approached carrying one of the exploding collars. Zoro shook his head, "I don't need that."
"But-"the crew was looking decisively nervous now. They made no move to release the final chain between his legs.
"Get him a normal collar then," Zoro ordered, more for their benefit than his. "Unlock the handcuffs."
The auctioneer was suddenly there. "Please Master Roronoa, we must continue the auction….I thank you for your purchase, but we need the auction block…!"
Zoro glanced at him. "We're leaving."
The collar was hurriedly brought and slipped onto the blond's neck and the leash end was quickly handed to Zoro. The final chain was unlocked and the handcuffs removed. Although the slave was no longer restrained save for the collar and leash around his neck, he made no move to stand. He still knelt. Zoro gripped the rope on his end tightly and pulled it experimentally.
"C'mon, we have to leave."
As he thought. Complete resistance. The blond knelt there, with his head held high, his hands lay peacefully on this thighs. There was something like amusement hovering over his lips. As if was trying not to smile, but couldn't help it. Zoro felt his cheeks flush with annoyance and embarrassment. He felt stupid, standing there tugging on a leash, trying to get the slave to get up. Couldn't the man see that he didn't want any trouble, didn't even want him on this stupid leash, wouldn't have put him on it if the crew hadn't absolutely insisted on it?
Zoro glared at him and yanked hard on his own end, he couldn't help it. He needed to get off the auction block and out of the public eye, the stares and whispers were starting to wear on him. The amusement was wiped off the blond's face instantly as he gagged and choked, falling to his hands, doubling over. There was more than surprise on his coughing face, there was shock. He was on his feet in an instant, moving quickly to keep up with Zoro as he moved off the auction block. The crowd made a wide berth as they passed through them.
"Surprised?" Zoro said, a touch maliciously.
"You will regret that," was the seething reply.
Zoro felt a little guilty for the yank, strong enough to move the man, but not strong enough to hurt him, but he also felt something he had not felt in a long time-interest. Interest and excitement. He had the blond man. He would remove the leash once they were far from the crowd. The man may flee the moment the collar came off, but it was a chance Zoro would risk.
He glanced back, "Don't stop. We need to get out of the harbor before anyone feels safe with you around."
But it seemed the man had wised up; he followed after Zoro with no more resistance but with a sullen, sly look that promised great retribution as soon as the owner got the chance. He would have to watch his back with this man. When Zoro released him, he would likely try to repay the yank with a vengeance. He pulled the blond slave after him and the crowd parted magically for him.
"You can't keep me here forever you know! I'll be gone by the day's end, if that." The blond called out behind him. He had a nice baritone, deep and smoky. Cool and casual.
"Let's see you," Zoro answered instead, not bothering to turn around. The slave must think that he actually planned to keep him in enslavement, probably wouldn't believe him if he told him he was planning to free him as soon as they were out of sight of the harbor. And was hoping that when he did, that the slave would stay around for a little bit.
"So how the hell do you plan to get me to do anything, huh? Hell, you're struggling to get me to walk."
"You'll see." Zoro called back, trying to sound mysterious. Inside he was thinking don't you ever shut up?
"Oh, so you think you can force me to work for you? Well, let me tell you something-" The blond began angrily.
Zoro turned around and cut him off. They were far enough from the harbor for him to feel comfortable enough to take off the slave's collar. "Look, you've got this all wrong. I didn't buy you to make you my slave. I'm not like that, I told you. I bought you to let you go. You're free."
"You're shitting me." The blond was staring at him, staring hard. There was a complex mixture of emotions struggling in his face. Wariness, scrutiny, disbelief, and...hope.
Zoro just looked at him.
"You're not shitting me," the blond said wondrously.
Zoro shrugged.
"But-But-why? You spend a fortune one me!" I don't understand his face said. I'm not used to kindness in this harsh world. On the Grand Line, it's a man eat man world. So explain this to me.
I don't understand myself. I think I need to explain to the both of us.
"I'm looking for someone to train with," he began lamely, feeling the intense scrutiny with which the slave was receiving his every word and the way his dark blue eyes were searching his face for answers Zoro didn't know himself.
"I'm not staying here-" the blond said automatically.
Zoro flushed, his hand tightening unconsciously on his end of the leash. He had known the blond wouldn't stay, he himself would not have. Did not blame the slave in the slightest. But his cheeks burned in embarrassment at the absolute rejection. "Why don't you stay the night and think it over-maybe stay for a month-" He started, sounding foolish to his own ears, before he was cut off by a wavering female shriek.
Zoro turned back to see what had caused that shriek. But judging from the direction it was coming from, from the harbor and the auction block where slaves continued to be sold and bought, he had an idea why a woman had cause to scream.
"Looks like they're selling off another slave…" he commented to the blond man who seemed transfixed, watching in stunned silence as in the distance they saw the next slave dragged onto the auction block. It was a mermaid, a beautiful one. Her thick, green tail thrashed against the ground in protest, trying to free herself from her captors. Her scales were rusty with dry blood. Zoro didn't think it was someone else's this time.
"There's nothing we can do," he murmured to the blond who had frozen at the sight of the spectacle. "Trust me, we don't want to see this." He pulled lightly on the leash. There was no give.
"Come on-"
"Save her."
"What?"
"We have to save her," the man said, his voice shaking with anger.
"We can't do anything-you know this-" Zoro began.
"We have to save her! Do you not have a soul!?" The man whirled on him.
Zoro was taken aback, then angry. "Of course I want to save her! But this is a slave auction-the slaves are likely from the Saobady! There's likely a Tennryubito buying today! You know what happens when anyone disrupts their precious slave auctions! Do you want an entire Buster Call to come down on this country-it's damaged enough as it is!"
His outburst seemed to ground the slave momentarily. There was a sick second of silence as they stared at each other, unable to shut out the wavering shrieks of the mermaid as the bidding began.
"Save her-there must be some way!" The man sputtered out, he seemed to be thinking desperately, and then-"Buy her! You have enough money! You paid one hundred million for me! You have enough to buy her! I know you do!" The blond man seemed to demand it.
"We can't keep feeding these idiots!" Zoro countered, He supposed he did have enough belli to buy more slaves, but couldn't imagine doing so. Even bidding for this man had been an out-of-body experience. " I can't save every slave they capture. The more we buy, the more they seek to acquire slaves-it's a vicious cycle...You have to suffocate the business-" He might as well have been speaking to the sea.
"I don't care! Buy her! Please!" the blond man yelled, "Are you so inhuman that you can't see her suffering?" Pure anguish was apparent in his contorted features.
"Of course I can! But that's not the point, listen to me!" Zoro yelled back, he was angry at the way the slave was making him out to be, angry that he would think that he, Zoro, didn't understand the situation, or worse yet, didn't care. Of course what was happening on the dock was a tragedy, but he could not risk the fate of this country for one person. Not even for himself. Why the blond slave was so transfixed with the fate of another when his own was in jeopardy was also something he couldn't understand. Perhaps they had known each other on the voyage here.
He tried to maintain his composure. "Look, we can't disturb the auction. And it's not a good idea to buy her!
"If we don't someone will!" The slave was looking at him as one would an imbecile. This was undeniable. Already, the bidding had begun. Zoro could hear the rising bids in the distance. "And you bought me so why does it matter now!?"
"That's different-"
"The hell it is!"
"I-"
"We're running out of time, goddamnit! I don't have time for your idiocy!" The slave snapped, cutting Zoro off from a reply. A fact for which Zoro was secretly grateful as he hadn't really known what he was going to say. The blond was staring off into the harbor, ears perked. And Zoro could hear the bidding, already ridiculously high, starting to slow. Soon the auctioneer would sell to the highest bidder.
There was a moment of silence and Zoro thought that the slave had given up. He was mistaken.
"If you buy her…I'll make you a deal!" The blond spun around to face him. His face was pale under all the dirt and grime. Pale, but the determination on that face was unmistakable. "Buy her-and all the other women who come off that ship in chains-and I swear to God I….I won't run away from you. I'll stay here."
Zoro thought he had misheard, "What? You-stay here?"
"Yes, yes, yes!" The slave shouted, "If you buy her-all of them-and let them free, I swear on my own name and on Zeff's, that I will stay here-for whatever reason you bought me for in the first place!" The blond man pleaded desperately, "Just let them free for God's sake…" he turned and watched the auction continue in despair.
There was a brief moment of struggle within him. He could stand by what he had said and refuse to contribute to the slave economy-and lose the nameless blond slave forever-not to mention abandoning the young slave women to masters without mercy and a sure fate of life enslavement. Or he could put aside his convictions just this once-buy all the slaves and give them another chance at life-and keep the blond slave for himself.
Who had said that the road to hell was paved with good intentions? Although he didn't believe in hell, he understood the premise of the metaphor. And although he knew that he would accept the sacrifice, he felt something inside of him resist just a little bit longer, something that deep inside him knew that if he took this road, he would be damned.
He let the leash drop from his hand and strode back to the auction block. He supposed he would have to wait until the very end to ensure that he had purchased every single slave. By the end of the auction the country would be afloat with rumors and gossip about his participation in the slave auction, but he found himself caring little, if at all.
~0~
He spent nearly a million belli to buy every single slave that came up on that auction block. Zoro didn't have such money on his person, he would have had to have a chest of gold to pay that much, but he knew he could offer a voucher that the pirates would be able to redeem at the Palace treasury.
Although the blond slave seemed more preoccupied with the women slaves than with the male slaves, he did not discriminate. Now that he was in this, he was in this. He bid stoically, calmly, purposefully. He had managed to sweep in and steal the mermaid out from under some pompous ambassador, ignoring the death glare sent his way as his bid won. He could handle animosity well enough, had handled it his whole life.
He bought young men, young women, old men, old women. He bought battered pirates and defeated prostitutes. He bid and bid. Soon it became clear to the audience that he intended to buy the entire auction and bids from other competitors nearly vanished. There were a few pampered noblemen who attempted to cut in and snatch a life away, but Zoro bore them out patiently. The blond slave had offered his life away for the lives of every single slave on that ship and Zoro fully intended to fulfill his end of the bargain.
And although he had been against participating further in the auction, he felt moved with the emotional reaction the slaves had when he slipped off their collars and set them free. Many cried, many grasped his hands in thanks, men and women kissed him on the cheek, and almost all embraced him tenderly. He bore these outbursts of gratitude and affection with as much patience as he could muster. He was not used to being a savior and felt strange being perceived as one.
The mermaid, the first he set free, touched him the most. He hunkered down to her level to release her chains. She placed a hand on his thigh and looked into his eyes. Before he knew what she meant to do, she kissed him deeply on the mouth. He tried to draw back, surprised, but her hand tightened on his thigh. Her kiss was salty, like the sea. And intimate. He felt a latent heat stir somewhere in his depths, but he understood it was not to be.
She broke the kiss and without another word, she was sliding toward the dock. Another second, all he saw was the flip of her tail fin and the splash she left as she returned to the ocean.
The slaves dispersed after thanking Zoro, some looking dazed and confused, no doubt wondering where in the world they were. None asked why he had freed them, perhaps so grateful that they really didn't care. As the last one embraced him and kissed him on the cheek-a burly man in his late forties who informed Zoro he had thought he'd never see his family again-the sun finally disappeared below the horizon. The crowd had decreased to a few individuals here and there, wanting to be there in the chance that something exciting would happen, but most of the onlookers had gone home. Even the crew of the Sexy Foxy had begun to pack up their merchandise.
He wished the burly man a safe journey and watched him trudge off in the direction of the town. After the man was just a speck in the distance, he turned to study the dying sunset. It was always a sight to see in Arabasta. The sky seemed awash in a spectrum of reds, oranges, and golds. The colors deep and rich and beautiful. The slave had been silent for a while and Zoro delayed turning to look for the rouge as part of him insisted that he had fled while he was preoccupied, promise or no promise.
But another part of him told him that this man was not one shirk on a promise. It was pure instinct, he no more knew this man than he knew what lay beyond the stars, but he trusted the feeling just the same.
And of course the blond slave was there. Because that, Zoro was starting to learn, was the kind of man he was.
The man shrugged and sighed a little wistfully. He seemed to understand the semi-wonder with which Zoro beheld him. He even managed a half-smile. "Surprised I'm still standing here, that I'm not halfway across the country?"
"That's right." And for the first time in this whole business, he felt a pang of guilt. It seemed to have snuck into his heartbeat and thumped once. Suddenly there and a little painful. It was the first, but it would not be the last.
Zoro shook his head quickly to clear it. He had not set out to enslave this man, but to befriend him. What had transpired between those two intentions had not been of his making.
But I let it happen.
No, he had played a bigger role than bystander today. He was not so stupid as to lie to himself.
I can still let him free.
But the slave was speaking now and Zoro pulled himself out of his own conflicting thoughts to listen.
"I made a deal with you-my life for their lives-and it was a bargain made on my own name and that of a man I consider my father. For me, that is tantamount to a blood oath. If I abandon that promise or do anything but hold true to it-I would consider my life forfeit." Zoro had never heard words spoken with such stark honesty. Nor words so noble and so deeply unhappy. He felt his own sense of code and honor resonate with those words.
The slave looked at him, and said simply, "You own my life now. And for that, I detest you."
Zoro looked at him, startled.
"You can't think I wouldn't resent this enslavement-and you for orchestrating it." The blond man said, arching an eyebrow in wearied disbelief.
"You offered your life for those of the other slaves. I had nothing to do with that-I had the full intention to set you free when I bought you-you know this," Zoro replied. He felt slightly off-put that the man found it so easily to despise him. He felt that he had behaved as a man of morals-he had not proposed the trade and so was not solely to blame. Or so he told himself.
"I did what I had to do to save those women!" The slave retorted. There was a bit of heat to his tone as if he had fully realized his own actions and their dire consequences. "I acted in honor! And if I stupidly offered my life, that's because you left me no option!"
"Why do you even care what happened to those slaves? They were strangers to you!"
"There were innocent women in chains! Innocent men and women! I'm not the kind of man who will walk away from despicable shit like that!" His dark blue eyes glinted angrily, daring Zoro to continue challenging his actions. "I needed you to buy those slaves to save them-and the only damn leverage I had on you was myself-gods know why-so I used it."
"You used me," Zoro said. "But the price was high." He admired the man's quick thinking, his intelligence, his sheer recklessness and ability to take great risks and make great sacrifices. "All in the name of honor."
"Yes. Something you know little about as the honorable thing is to release me from the oath I made to you," the man looked at Zoro with such cold intensity that he felt hackles rise on the back of his neck, "Let me go-I can still respect you if you just let me go." He looked at Zoro shrewdly. "I can sense a good man in you even if I don't know you. Don't prove me wrong.
Zoro looked at him, saying nothing. He felt a great, inexplicable torment writhing within him. Strong desires to let him go and to hold him fast struggled against each other. But the bird in hand was too luring in the end.
The slave must have read his fate in his dark eyes, for the strange gleam in his eyes went out, as if extinguished, and it seemed as if a bright light flickered and went out within him.
"And so I am doomed to die here in this decadent and dry desert," the man spat, "And so I detest you." He turned his back on Zoro and spat out the worn cigarette but out onto the wooden planks of the port. The man must have held onto that worn smoke as one holds onto a frail hope. To see him finally throw it away tugged at him in a strange, sad way.
"What's your name?" Zoro asked. "If you despise me, I suppose I should your name at the very least."
The slave eyed him, his wariness apparent. He seemed loathe to give his name, even with his life in Zoro's hands, he seemed to wish to hold onto his privacy for just a little more time.
"My name is Zoro," Zoro volunteered, "Roronoa Zoro. And this is the Island of Arabasta on the Grand Line if you were wondering."
"Yes, yes, I figured that out with everyone whispering your name," the slave replied. "I am Sanji."
"Sanji?" It was a strange name. He had never heard anyone named that before.
"Yes."
"No last name?"
"Orphaned. I never knew my parents. If I had a father's or mother's last name to pass on, I never knew it." The reply was cold.
"I didn't know my parents either if it's any comfort, but I was told my name by some who knew them. I knew their names and nothing more," Zoro volunteered, trying to soften the slave's-Sanji, his name is Sanji-image of him.
"Charming," was the disinterested-and unsympathetic-reply.
But could he really blame the slave-blame Sanji? Would he have been any different if their positions had been reversed? The answer could only be no...he would have been just as stoic, as emotionless, and as infuriated as Sanji was. Perhaps even more so.
~0~
They finally reached the Royal Palace with the sun completely gone and the bright moon hanging icily in the night sky. Zoro proceeded to signal the guards so they would throw open the main gates to the palace proper and admit them graciously. The huge sandstone walls glowed mellowly in the dusky afternoon. Brilliantly sculpted statues of Arabastan deities lined the pathway, seeming to stand guard over any who entered the home of the ruling family. Beautiful gardens-unseen since the current drought had worsened-bloomed in full splendor at every turn of the head. Peacocks, exotic birds brought from other countries, roamed the polished stone pathways, their jewel colors shaming even the bright gems of the equally beautiful courtesans who meandered the palace grounds, talking and laughing quietly.
It was always strange even for him who had lived here almost a year now to enter the palace as if it was his own. He was not used to beautiful things or even to stable ones. Already he could feel himself becoming restless, wishing to leave this desert island. He might even have left in a month or two-but now there was Sanji.
"This is where I live," Zoro said. He tried to keep the smugness out of his voice, but failed. He enjoyed the wide-eyed gape of surprise on the blond man's face, "And your new home."
Sanji turned to him, demanding, "Who the hell are you? The goddamn king?"
Zoro just chuckled, not replying. He would let Sanji assume whatever it was he was thinking. The man kept on glancing warily around as they made their way through the magnificent corridors towards his quarters. Rich and opulent tapestries draped the walls, depicting creation myths and famous, ancient battles of yore. Portraits of kings and queens hung stately in large ballrooms that they passed by. To Sanji, he must really seem like a member of royalty.
His wing of the castle was located on the right side of the castle, four or five floors up, spanning eight or ten rooms, and overlooking a broad vista of desert dunes. As he approached the double doors which allowed access to his rooms a few of his servants rushed to greet him and usher him inside. They glanced at the slave curiously, but asked nothing. He appreciated their quiet courtesy and professionalism, but knew that they would be gossiping this very night in the courtyard behind the kitchens.
He led the slave into his main room-a vast chamber he really had no use for except that it had a comfortable couch, plush and large enough for him to stretch out. Otherwise is was filled with a wide sort of exotic bric-and-brac he always seemed to be accidently breaking. Zoro tossed himself onto the luxurious sofa, and motioned a servant to bring him some water. "And bring me Usopp," he added, "He might be sleeping, so wake him up." The remaining servants dispersed with another wave of his hand.
Sanji remained standing; looking unsure. Zoro closed his eyes, realizing he was tired. All the emotions from the afternoon-more emotions than he had felt in months, certainly-seemed to have finally caught up with him. He wanted to sleep. Usopp would take care of the slave-of Sanji.
There were a few moments of silence between them. And Zoro knew that if he stuck out his tongue, he would be able to taste the tension that was radiating off of the other man like heat waves. Thankfully, Usopp chose this moment to appear.
"Yes, Master Roronoa?" a young man came sauntering out of a nearby doorway, "Finally you came back! I just finished defending your rooms from a horde of assassins, who no doubt were after your sacred treasures…They were a bother…I was trembling, true…..trembling from excitement!"
He was a rather peculiar figure, with a bush of springy black hair capped off with an argyle bandana and a pair of wide eyes oversetting a rather long and Pinocchio-esque nose. He was dressed in the manner of the people of the desert with a long, sheer robe covering a plain linen skirt.
"Yeah, yeah, Usopp-Thanks, I knew I could count on you." Zoro rolled his eyes and waved him over, "Come meet Sanji. I bought him at the auction that the Sexy Foxy put on down by the harbor this afternoon. He's staying with us for a while so he'll need new clothes. Get him cleaned up and tell him all he needs to know about where he is."
He glanced over at the slave. "What are you wearing anyway?"
"I was wearing a suit," the slave answered. He seemed a little distant, as if he was thinking of things long past. "Only my pants and my shoes made it here."
Zoro yawned. He got up from the sofa and popped his back; it wouldn't do to fall asleep on the sofa, he would probably wake up with stiff shoulders and that would be annoying during his exercises tomorrow.
Usopp was studying the slave, his face going a trifle paler under his tan at the sight of so much blood on one person. He made a small eep sound in the back of his throat, "B-B-But Zoro-I'm tired-Why don't I call Nami to come do it? I just finished fighting thousands of professional-"
"He's not going to kill you Usopp," Zoro laughed, "Although I don't doubt you'd like to murder at least one man in this room-Isn't that right-Sanji?" He tossed a lazy glance at his slave and shrugged out of the long thick robe he had been dressed in. Unlike Usopp, he wore dark, green pants under his robe. They were loose and thick, but tight around his ankles and hip. He didn't much like wearing the skirts or robes that many men wore around the palace, they were hard to work in and hindered his movements.
He was bare-chested, too, but had a large collar-crest made of sheet gold and inscribed with the Royal Family's crest and with the title and seal of his position. He also didn't care for the collar but palace protocol dictated he wear it out of respect to the King.
"No, I wouldn't mind killing you at all, my liege," the slave answered, his voice cold and tight with fury. Zoro sensed that the other man thought he was mocking him, and wanted to tell him that that had not been his intention at all, that he was trying to make light of the animosity he felt directed towards him. But he felt another wave of tiredness wash over him and he refrained. Being around the man was like being around a hornet's nest. One light tap was enough to send a swarm of angry, stinging insects his way.
"Get him cleaned up," he told Usopp and Usopp swallowed but nodded, and motioning the slave to follow, bustled out of the room in the direction of the showers. Zoro watched in amusement as Sanji followed the butler but glanced back and aimed a last suspicious look of hate at him.
Zoro stood there a few seconds longer, suddenly wondering what sort of man would return from the baths. The slave-Sanji-had been absolutely filthy, bloodstained and mud-splattered. Hair caked with dirt and sweat, face grimy with all sorts of dirty stains. He could tell the man had blond hair, that his skin was a light peach, his eyes-dark blue. But what would did he really look like underneath all those layers of blood and dirt? He caught himself wondering, wanting to know.
~0~
"Nice baths," the blond slave commented, looking around him as they walked into the bath chambers. They were like great outdoor baths, several large, oval-shaped bathtubs, cut and shaped from marble and granite, lined the walls. Huge marble lions, steamed water rushing from their great open mouths poured into a huge spa in the middle of the room. It was hot and humid within the room, but in a refreshing and pleasant manner.
"Yeah!" Usopp yelped, jumping at the sound of the slave's voice. He hurried to one of the bathtubs and turned on the water, filling the bathtub, "The royal baths have running taps of both hot and cold water! It's actually an amazing feat of engineering!" He pointed to each tap, "That's hot and that's cold, here you can turn on the showerhead, and here you can adjust the flow. And here's the soap." Usopp glanced again at the new slave, "I think you'll need to use that liberally if you don't mind me saying."
"I don't," the slave answered, "I know how I look. There's ten pounds of several different kinds of shit on me-including shit itself. It wasn't quite the luxury line-the Sexy Foxy." He undid his pants, once black, now some nauseating color of brown and rust and slipped off his shoes. He was naked underneath.
Usopp poked at the small pile of clothes with a stick, not wanting to touch them. "I think I'll just throw these away if that's alright with you-they're not very washable. And I'll call a doctor to see to your wounds."
"Don't bother. They'll heal soon enough." The man climbed into the tub, and almost immediately the water turned dark as the mud dissolved from his body. He grabbed the soap and started scrubbing away at his arms, "I must admit, this feels spectacular. I don't think I've bathed in two months."
Usopp gazed in admiration at the man's physique. He couldn't see much while the man was in the tub, but he had seen his body before he climbed in and could see when he moved-the man's muscular arms, broad chest and shoulders, the thick veins in his arms that stood out when he tensed a certain way. He began to understand what Zoro wanted with this man-it was obvious. A training partner.
Usopp was always training himself, trying to build up his small muscles and increase his weight since his secret dream was to become a great warrior of the sea and visit the land of the giant warriors-Elbaf. He had even tried to make Zoro his training partner since he was always talking of finding one. But Zoro, being the selfish brute he was, always claimed that he would get much more challenge out of fighting a wet dishrag than him, so Usopp blamed him for his own lack of self-improvement
But Usopp guessed that Zoro had finally found someone that might give him more than a challenge.
"Can I ask where you're from?" Usopp asked the man in the tub, "Sanji, isn't it? How long were you on the Sexy Foxy, you're covered in filth!"
"East Blue," the man answered, now scrubbing at the mat of blond hair on his head, "And I spent a few months on that accursed ship, I'm not exactly sure of how long because they chained me up in the brig and I hardly saw any sunlight."
"Really!?" Usopp exclaimed, "I'm from East Blue too! Do you know Syrup Island?! That's my homeland!"
"Syrup Island? Sure, I'm a few days travel from there. I live on the Baratie-it's a floating restaurant. But I grew up in North Blue before we settled in East Blue."
"Still, we're from the same place!" Usopp smiled, taking a liking to the man, "East Blue is relatively peaceful, I didn't even know that the Foxy pirates did business so close to Syrup Island!"
"The world's becoming more and more of a dangerous place," Sanji answered. "And the Foxy pirates are the least of what I worry of." He scrubbed away, his back turned to Usopp, and as the water lapped at him, Usopp saw the thick lashes that lay on his back.
"Are you sure you don't want to see a doctor? They must have whipped you for days." He eyed the painful red welts that lacerated the man's back. They were red and purple, bruised and coagulated with rusty blood.
"Oh these?" The man turned his head over his shoulder to look down his back, "Yes, this was my welcome onto the Sexy Foxy. They also didn't feed me for a week-which was much worse. The wounds are almost healed, however, so don't pay them much mind. They're ugly, but they're much better."
"If you don't mind me asking-"
"How did I end up on that damn slaver ship?"
Usopp nodded, "If you don't mind."
The man smiled at him, "You're not such a bad person."
"Neither are you."
"Well, I suppose I'll tell you if you answer a few questions about this place-and that man."
"Of course, Zoro told me tell you what you needed to know," Usopp answered immediately.
The man, Sanji, frowned at the mention of Zoro's mind and it looked like he wasn't going to say anything after all, but after a few moments he said, "I was on Oak Island, the closest island to the Baratie-my home-buying supplies for the restaurant. The Foxy pirates had just won a Davy Back fight against some nobodies there. I stopped by to see what the commotion was and I suppose that was the beginning of a long series of events that landed me here."
"Did they capture you?" Usopp asked, captivated.
"No-well, yes, I suppose-" Sanji said, he was now washing his legs, "I interfered because the damn pirates were dragging some ladies away from their crewmembers and they were screaming rather pitifully. So of course I destroyed them."
"But how did you end up a slave!?"
"I'm coming to that," Sanji said, "Their oyabin, their captain, had a Devil Fruit Ability. He could freeze you for a minute-make you move so slowly that it seemed you were frozen. I should have been more careful."
"Devil Fruit users are incredibly powerful!" Usopp said, excited, "He froze you and captured you!"
"No, actually he didn't-well, he did-but-let me explain," Sanji interrupted, "He did freeze me but he knew he wouldn't be able to control me even if he did manage to chain me and get me on that ship. He took the time to explain to me that he would murder every single woman that he had won from the Davy Back if I didn't surrender."
"That monster! Even though they were innocent?"
"Pirates rarely have a moral compass."
"So what happened? You agreed?"
"I did. I voluntarily boarded the Sexy Foxy in chains and allowed myself to be beaten and starved, pissed on and mocked in order to save those women. The oyabin would constantly remind me that if I so much as kicked back he would murder every single woman on the ship, regardless if they were crew or not. I knew he would hold this over me so I knew I would only be free when I was sold. Then I could just run away-" Sanji broke off suddenly.
"That's so impressive, you are a man among men!" Usopp squeaked, stars shining in his eyes. He loved to hear a good tale of adventure and Sanji's was the best he had heard in a while.
"I suppose I have that to hold onto," Sanji said, his voice morose. "I'm finished. Can you hand me a towel to dry off?"
"Sure," Usopp handed him a towel, "I hope you don't mind but-why-"
"Why am I here if I planned on running away?" Sanji barked laughter, getting out of the tub. His body was finally clean, his hair wet, but shiny. But bruises, large, discolored spots, decorated his chest, his back, his arms, and legs. A faded black eye, yellowing now, ringed one eye.
"Well-Zoro made it seem like you were staying for a while," Usopp said hesitantly.
"Women, Usopp, must be saved when needing saving. It is one of the things I believe most in life. When I was sold to Zoro, I did plan on running away with no second thought, but then I didn't count on that fact that I was being sold alongside many beautiful women whose cries I couldn't ignore."
"What did you do?"
"Well, I made a bargain with your master-and now I suppose he is my master too-my life for their lives. It was clear he wanted me for some reason and he knew I wouldn't stay here. So in exchange for my life, he bought every slave and set them free."
"Zoro bought every slave!? He must have spent a fortune! Nami is going to hit the roof when she hears about this!" Usopp exclaimed.
"All I care is that they went home, free men and women."
"You are truly an admirable man," Usopp said worshipfully, "One day I hope to be as strong as someone like you so that I, too, can protect innocent people. Hold on, I'll get you new clothes." He trotted off.
"Thank you, with much luck you won't end up a slave like me. Being a good person sometimes is what manages to hurt you the most." There was a depth of sadness to his voice that Usopp had never heard before.
When he returned with the new clothes, he found Sanji at one of the large windows at the far end of the baths. He joined him, handing him the clothes. He looked out, wanting to see what the other man was so fixated on. It was dark out after all. "What are you looking at?"
"Do you see the moon?"
"Yes, it's full."
"Do you see how there is a reflection of it at the far end of the horizon?"
"Yes, what about it?"
"It's reflecting on the ocean. Even from here you can see a small sliver of sea, enough for a reflection. Like a silver lining or a small sense of hope in despair. Beautiful isn't it?" His voice was hoarse and jagged. "It's hard to believe that-right now-I'd be cleaning up the dinner or maybe fighting Carne-I'd never thought I'd miss that piece of shit cook!"
Usopp felt a deep well of sympathy rise up within him; the man had seemed so confident, so arrogant, so strong telling his adventures. He had seemed unafraid and powerful, in control of his own destiny. But Usopp was coming to realize that this was not so. Somewhere this man had left behind a family, loved ones, an entire life. And for what?
"I'm sorry-" he said awkwardly, suddenly ashamed at all his questions. "Well-I know how you feel-but, at least Zoro bought you-it could have been worse!" He said fumblingly. He knew it was the wrong thing to say as soon as he said it.
The blond man wiped at his eyes savagely, "He is a piece of shit! He bargained the lives of people so that I would stay here with him! What kind of a man does that!?"
"I guess-he really wanted to get to know you?" Usopp stammered back. Sanji was angry and Usopp could not blame him, but at the same time he wished he could tell Sanji that Zoro was a good man-just that when he wanted something badly enough he was apt to be a little forceful and more than a little tactless in how he chose to go about acquiring it. He had no grace except for when it came to his swords, but otherwise he was a good man. A great man, in Usopp's humble opinion. But he felt that this was something Sanji must find out on his own.
Instead of saying anything he patted the man consolingly on the shoulder and said, "I wouldn't give up on going home though."
"I don't intend to," Sanji said through gritted teeth, "He must have a price. Everything has a price and a willing buyer."
These words would prove to be nearly prophetic.
~0~
Usopp had been chattering inanely about some great battle he had been in, stopped suddenly, and motioned at a closed door, indicating silently that Sanji was to go in alone. He suddenly seemed frightened as if he wasn't sure how Sanji was going to react.
"What?" Sanji asked, not understanding.
"Mater Zoro wanted to see you after you took a bath," Usopp explained, "Go on in."
"And you?" He didn't want to face Zoro. He was exhausted, both from his journey here and all the mixed emotions he felt running through him. And from all the hate he harbored within him. It had festered all these months in the Sexy Foxy and had bloomed dangerous flowers. He felt a welling anger inside him, growing roots within his soul.
"He wants to see you alone," Usopp said uncomfortably.
"Where's this, though?" he asked. He didn't recognize the door as the one to the room before and he mistrusted the closed door.
"This is his bedroom," Usopp said, "It's the only room he actually uses out of the whole wing. I have to go." He paused and said quickly, "I know you can't right now, but please give him a chance, he's a good man inside-although he doesn't seem it at times." He knocked loudly on the door, and then he was gone. Before, Sanji assumed, he could be argued with.
"Come in," a voice called from inside. He recognized it as the man who had bought and bargained for him. He felt his insides tighten as all his senses kicked into overdrive. This was do or die.
I can either open this door or run down the goddamn hallway. I might even get halfway down to the harbor before I kill myself for having broken my goddamn word that I give too easily to those who don't deserve it.
He stared at the door in front of him. Sweat beginning to form on his forehead.
Me or you.
His hand reached out, seemingly of its own accord, hand closing around the crystal doorknob and clenching it tightly, twisting it. He opened the door, heart beating, and entered.
~0~
