Chapter 2: Something Rich And Strange

Sanji proposes an expedition to collect cooking ingredients. With Zoro as his helper. Yeah, this should go great...

Of his bones are coral made, Those are pearls that were his eyes,
Nothing of him that doth fade,
But doth suffer a sea-change, into something rich and strange.

- The Tempest

The next morning Zoro woke late and slowly, coming up from the depths of sleep a piece at a time. He became aware of the sounds of the cabin, the creaks and small shiftings that made up the background noise of the Going Merry. Then the uneven rhythm of someone snoring filtered in: Usopp, by the sound of it. Zoro felt himself coming wider awake but stayed where he was for the time being, eyes shut with one arm over them. He was in no hurry to get up. Not least because as he surfaced to full awareness, the memory of last night surfaced too.

He smiled under the crook of his elbow. Finesse. Ha. Before they were through, Sanji had quit complaining about lack of technique. Zoro liked to rise to a challenge. Mind you, rising to a challenge was never usually a problem where the cook was concerned. However damn annoying Sanji was, in the physical stakes he was always… sufficiently creative enough that Zoro found it more difficult to hold back than to participate.

Usopp let out a particularly thunderous snore and Zoro decided his lie-in had lasted long enough. Opening his eyes he swung down from his hammock and hauled on his clothes, giving a parting glance at the still-sleeping Usopp before climbing up the ladder and out onto the deck.

It was another fine sunny day, unsurprisingly. Zoro nodded at Nami as he passed her. She was sitting on the deck with a chart spread out in front of her, making notes upon it. "Hey."

"Hey." Typically, she didn't look up.

"We likely to be moving on today?"

Still without looking at him, Nami gestured to the log pose on her wrist. "It's still working on it."

Zoro regarded the little needle in its crystal bubble. "Funny. This island is so small, you'd think it wouldn't have such a tricky magnetic wave. It's not even big enough to have people living on it."

"Size isn't everything." This time Nami did look up, with a sly grin. "Although I'm guessing that maybe that's not a concept you're familiar with."

It was too soon after waking up to come up with a witty rejoinder to that one. Zoro settled for making a swift exit. "I'm gonna go get some breakfast."

"Bushoumono… You'll be lucky. Breakfast was over half an hour ago." She bent back to her chart-making.

When Zoro entered the galley, he found Nami's assessment of the situation to be depressingly accurate. The table had been cleared, and although Sanji was there he was just drying and stacking away crockery. "There any food?"

"I called breakfast nice and loud. You should've come then." Sanji slid a plate neatly on top of a stack, turning away.

"I was sleeping."

"Your loss."

Provoking bastard. Zoro narrowed his eyes. "Look, all I want's something to eat. Tell me what I can have and I'll get it myself."

"Set one finger on my stores and I'll slice it off." Sanji gave him a warning look.

"Then give me some breakfast!"

"There's coffee left, over there." Sanji gestured at a pot on the stove. "Otherwise, you can wait till lunchtime. I'm not supplying snacks at all hours for crew who can't get their dozy asses to the table when mealtime comes around."

Zoro grabbed a cup from the cupboard and filled it to the brim with coffee. It was still warm but bitter enough to make him grimace. "Shitty ero-cook… You make snacks all the time for Nami and Robin. What's with the attitude?"

Sanji swiped his dish towel around another plate, slid the plate onto the stack in the cupboard and leaned back against the sink, regarding the swordsman. "You just assume you can have anything you want. Whether or not it's… convenient for others."

Zoro wondered what the cook was driving at… Then thought back to the night before. "Is this about breakfast, or about something else?"

"It's just a general observation." Sanji shrugged, picking up the last wet plate. "Take it however you want."

Zoro took another mouthful of coffee and twisted his mouth again. "Oi… If you've something to say, say it."

"You know what I'm going to say. I've said it before. So this time, I think I'll save my breath." Sanji shot him a dry look. "Unless this time you actually plan on listening."

"I'm all ears." Zoro set his coffee down on the table, with dangerous deliberation.

"Really?" Sanji affected surprise. "Well, lucky me. Here goes then, for what must be the umpteenth time. Did you ever, for a second, consider that doing what you want might occasionally be varied by allowing other people's preferences to come first?"

"For example?" Zoro could see the cook's ire was waxing, but he was feeling stubborn.

"You want me to be specific?" Sanji raised one elegantly spiralled eyebrow. "Let me give you a clue: the line, 'I'm going to put it in now' fails to win prizes for heightening the mood, in pretty much every civilised social circle."

"You didn't mention it at the time," Zoro pointed out. "In fact, I seem to remember you didn't say anything much. Although you were making plenty of interesting noises."

"Gaghh…" Sanji carefully laid the last plate to rest in the cupboard, before rounding on the swordsman. "Listen, moron. Is it asking too much, that just occasionally before we cut to the chase, you show a little – a little - " He appeared to be reaching for a word: Zoro hoped it wasn't going to be finesse. "A little – restraint?"

"Restraint?" Zoro blinked. "You want to be tied up?"

"NO, IDIOT MARIMO!" Sanji's yell was probably audible on the foredeck. There were a few seconds of silence, then Sanji continued in lower but no less dangerous tones. "I know that you're used to taking the lead. And I shouldn't be surprised when that's what, nine times out of ten, seems to get you going. But lately it seems like you're taking it for granted that you'll always be the one… in charge. And I'm telling you, right now: that doesn't always light my flame."

Zoro felt the truth of the accusation. Or at least, he felt uncomfortable, which was an unwelcome confirmation that what Sanji was telling him was probably true. "You're telling me you didn't enjoy it last night? Because from where I was, it looked like you were - "

"O, give me strength." Sanji fished his cigarettes out of his jacket; pulled one out; lit it. "This is why I said I'd rather save my breath, than try to explain this to you again. Listen, you stupid sword-swinger: just because you can make me get there in the end, doesn't necessarily mean I had the best time on the way."

That stung, maybe more than Sanji had intended it to. But like most things that got through his defences, Zoro was well able not to let it show. Setting down his empty coffee cup, he headed for the door. "Thanks for breakfast. I think I've had enough."

"Wait." Sanji's voice dropped a little. Zoro looked back: the cook was watching him, an expression of angry frustration on his face. "Don't just flounce off when the conversation gets difficult. That's taking the easy way out."

Flounce off. Zoro felt his hackles rising further at that one. "No, I don't think so. I think it's better I get out of here, right now. Believe me."

"O, whatever." Sanji sounded resigned. "Go on then. Go and heave some weights around. Have fun."

Zoro let the galley door slam harder than it needed to on his way out. The burn of anger that Sanji's words had lit smouldered for some time: he put it to use in his training, working up a sweat that did little to relieve the irritation inside.

Shitty damn cook. Zoro finished his weights routine, turned next to cleaning his swords. Usually this was an activity that grounded him, but he found himself returning in his mind again and again to Sanji's words.

- Listen, you stupid sword-swinger: just because you can make me get there in the end, doesn't necessarily mean I had the best time on the way.

A frown drew his brows down, as he carefully slid the wiping paper along the top side of Wado Ichimonji's blade, cleaning off any minute debris; transferred the nuguigami to the bottom side and repeated the process.

- Don't just flounce off when the conversation gets difficult. That's taking the easy way out.

The blade was dry and clean. Deliberately he picked up the uchiko ball and tapped it every few inches along the steel to scatter the blade with the fine stone powder, before wiping it along its length with another piece of nuguigami. Turning the blade over he repeated the process with its other side, taking the time to run his gaze over every inch of the katana. After the cleaning was done, he gave both sides of the blade another painstaking wipe; then took the choji oil and cloth and gave Ichimonji's blade a slow anointing. Finally he slid the katana back into its white saya and propped it up beside his other two swords.

A footstep sounded close by. Looking up, he saw Sanji come to a halt by the rail, leaning one elbow on it. There was the inevitable reach into his pocket for a cigarette; the flicker of his lighter, followed by the wisp of bluewhite smoke. "Watching you do that, it appears that you're capable of doing things carefully."

Zoro began stowing away his cleaning kit. "I depend on these katana. I'd be a fool not to look after them properly."

"Hm." Sanji let out a thoughtful cloud of smoke. "Does that not apply to people, then? Only to lengths of steel?"

Zoro gave him a frown. "Are you picking up where you left off? I'm tired of this conversation."

"No. I'm done. Forget I said anything." Sanji gave a half-shake of his head, and his familiar sly grin surfaced. "I need an assistant this afternoon, to go foraging. You can make yourself useful, and lend me a hand."

Zoro was slightly thrown by the shift in mood, which was no doubt what Sanji was counting on. "Forget it. Ask one of the others."

"Nami's working on her chart, Robin's planning on going for a walk, Usopp is hammering nails into bits of wood and Chopper is taking inventory of his medicine chest. And Luffy is… Well, I don't actually know what the hell Luffy is doing, but if I took him with me then the chances of anything I foraged getting back to the ship would be non-existent. So the sad fact is, you're up."

Zoro eyed him. "What exactly are you planning on going foraging for? Is this some sort of contest?"

"Nope. Just collecting small stuff: shellfish, mainly. I want to try out a new recipe for paella I've had knocking around in my head for a while."

"And you need my help just to scoop up a few clams?" Zoro was sceptical.

"I don't need anyone's help. But many hands make light work, ne? What's the problem? You had something better to do?"

What Zoro had planned to do was to swipe a bottle of wine and get in some quality drinking and sleeping time, but there was no need for Sanji to know that. "All right, all right. Don't get petulant. I'll come and help you chase prawns."

"My gratitude is overwhelming. Okay: after lunch, we'll go."

Once they were ashore and making their way along the coastal shallows, Zoro was forced to acknowledge that maybe this wasn't such a bad way to spend a few hours. Not that he'd admit that out loud, of course. As they waded in and out of the sea's edge, investigating promising-looking outcrops of coral and harvesting shellfish and other sea creatures under Sanji's direction, Zoro even found himself relaxing a little. The water swirled cool around his legs; the sun was warm on his back; even the cook was less annoying out here.

"What about this?" Zoro held up a large purple-grey crab he'd prised from under the lip of a large block of coral in a rock pool, taking care to keep his fingers out of range of its wicked-looking claws. Sanji regarded it assessingly.

"Hmm… Maybe. Let me have a look." He advanced, delicately taking the crab from Zoro's hand and turning it over to examine it from all angles. His fingers seemed to evade the crab's snapping claws effortlessly. A chef's hands, skilful without thinking. "Ahh… No." He stepped to the side and dropped the crab lightly back into the water by the coral, whereupon the animal dodged back under to safety.

"No? What was wrong with it?" Zoro was slightly piqued by this rejection of his offering.

"That was a sook, with her coral." Sanji saw the incomprehension on Zoro's face and translated. "A female, carrying her eggs."

"Crab eggs? But they're tasty, aren't they?" Zoro was sure that he'd eaten crab roe at some point; and he recalled that it had been pretty damn good.

"Sure. But we don't need them for this dish. Better to release her; let her keep her babies."

"That's unusually soft-hearted for a cook." Zoro raised his eyebrows, grinning.

Sanji gave him a look, before turning away. "To take food we don't need would be a waste."

Zoro knew only too well Sanji's views on the wasting of food. "I guess if you put her back she can raise up lots of baby crabs that might find their way into your pot one day, anyway."

Sanji smiled, stepping forward through the ankle-deep water. "That's partly it. But that's not all of it. It's about… respect."

"Respect? For what, a crab? Now I know you're going soft."

"Why not? A crab. A clam. A fish. They're all part of the same thing: the Blue. If you don't respect the parts, you can't respect the whole."

"So what about those parts we've already picked up and stuffed into these collecting sacks? Don't you respect them?"

"Of course I do. And I'm going to demonstrate my respect by making them into a dish that will do them justice."

Zoro cocked one eyebrow. "That's a weird notion of respect. Making them into soup."

"Paella isn't a soup, you moron. It's a rice dish."

"Soup, rice, whatever." Zoro had little patience for the finer points of cuisine. As long as it tasted good – and with Sanji's cooking, it usually did – and there was enough of it, he didn't much care what it was called. "They're still just gonna get boiled and eaten."

A muscle jumped in Sanji's jaw. "That… is not exactly what I'll be doing."

"Spare me the details." Zoro meant that. "As long as you don't serve us up something weird, that's okay."

"Rrhh." Sanji's shoulders twitched. "If I do serve up something weird, I'll test it on you first."

"Ha. You can try."

"The chances of you spotting whether a dish was weird or not in the nanosecond it takes you to start devouring it are pretty slim. Not to mention, you have a palate worthy of a back-country peasant."

Zoro wasn't exactly sure what a palate was, but being called a peasant was something that never failed to irk him. "Just because I didn't grow up slinging together fancy over-priced dishes and waiting hand and foot on a bunch of fussy snobs, doesn't mean I don't know good food when I eat it."

"Oi, that's it." Sanji stopped dead and rounded on him. "I'll continue harvesting this bit of coastline. You can go on ahead. Way ahead." His thumb jerked forwards to show where he meant. "I think we'll probably work better with a little distance between us."

"Suits me." Zoro pushed past him, not worrying about whether he splashed water as he strode through the shallow sea. "I'll try not to pick up any more crabs that you might want to bond with."

"Go bond with yourself, seaweed-head!"

With Sanji's words ringing in his ears, Zoro kept wading until he reached the tip of a headland of coral. The water was deeper here: as he edged round it the swell rose and soaked high into his trousers, wetting him to the waist. It didn't really matter: he would soon dry out in the warm sun, but he wouldn't have had to wade through the deeper part in the first place if that idiot cook hadn't got into a snit and told him to go on ahead.

It's not like I said anything that wasn't true. His rationalisation rang a little hollow, though. Of course Sanji had spent many years at the Baratie: and Zoro's scathing assessment of the menu and clientele there wasn't so far off the mark. But it had been an apprenticeship of sorts, a training ground; and as someone who'd also spent long years in training as a youngster, Zoro knew how he'd feel if someone belittled those early efforts.

The bag of shellfish bumped at his knee; he settled it further along his belt, trying to get it out of the way of his stride. His mind went back to the mother crab: to Sanji's smile.

- They're all part of the same thing: the Blue. If you don't respect the parts, you can't respect the whole.

The cook's feelings for the Blue went beyond respect, Zoro knew. It was his obsession: his dream. To find the All Blue, which as far as Zoro was concerned was an even crazier notion than Luffy one day becoming King of the Pirates. It was a pipe dream: something that would depend on chance, on whatever twists of fate came their way. It wasn't as if it was something you could work towards… Like becoming the best swordsman in the world.

At some far-down level he knew that this also wasn't an entirely fair judgement. Sanji was a dreamer, true: but he also worked hard at his craft, whether that was cooking or fighting. Yet there was too much of the mystic in his world view, in Zoro's opinion. Whenever the Straw Hats got to talking about life, the universe and everything (usually after the fifth or sixth bottle of wine was being passed round), Sanji was often the one who persisted in stating that there were deeper and greater forces at work in the universe than could be perceived on the surface. He never went so far as to declare outright a belief in some kind of Almighty, but it was a faith in some mystic spiritual essence, all the same. And that kind of talk set Zoro's teeth on edge. Only idiots believed in gods. And Zoro had no intention of being an idiot.

The edge of the coral shoal dipped back towards the shore and he followed it slowly, pausing every now and then to pick up sea creatures and examine them. Without Sanji's supervision he was fairly clueless about what might be good eating. Zoro developed his own personal theory of edibility, which was based on the concept that the more spines or slime a thing appeared to be sporting, the less tasty it probably was. He reasoned that Sanji could winnow out the contents of his collecting sack when they got back to the ship, anyway.

Glancing back along the sea's edge he found he could barely see the cook now. Sanji was a long way back, his figure a dark dot against the turquoise water. Zoro couldn't even tell if he was looking this way or not. Giving a shrug, he turned away and continued on along the shore.

A small outcrop of coral lay in his path, its surface sculpted into a myriad of different forms and colours: fluted curves, flower-like fans, stone pillows that looked as though they'd been embroidered with delicate traceries. Although he didn't share Sanji's obsession for the sea, Zoro could grudgingly admit that sometimes it put on a good display. And these coral growths seemed to be home for a vast array of weird and wonderful creatures, as colourful and varied as the corals themselves. He advanced on the outcrop and cast his gaze around it, looking for signs of life. A few tiny lemon-yellow fish flitted away at his approach; and a frilly sea slug was undulating along one craggy coral lip. Reckoning that sea slugs rated low under his improvised edibility theory, he looked past it to the sandy sea floor. His eye fell on something brightly-patterned, a few inches in front of his left foot. A shell of some sort, barely visible as if it had either just emerged from or was busy burrowing into the sand.

The hunting instinct kicked in and Zoro bent down and scooped the thing up. Bringing it out of the water, he took a look at it. The shell was a couple of inches or so long, narrowing to a blunt point at one end: it lay in his palm comfortably, its surface smooth to the touch. A slit ran almost the length of the shell, through which a pink and black fleshy body could be seen: a thin siphon that had been extended while the shell was in the water retracted itself slowly. Zoro tipped his hand, letting the shell roll over so he could see its other side. At once he was struck by the patterns that covered the shell, a delicate network of golden triangles and curling white and terracotta lines that gave the shell the look of a piece of finely decorated porcelain.

"Huh... You're a good-looking one." He turned the shell this way and that, admiring it. "Well: edible or not, I'll bet that cook'd appreciate a look at you. So tough luck, chibi: you're coming with me." He reached for the neck of his collecting bag with his right hand, closing the fingers of his left around the shell to make sure it wouldn't fall back into the sea.

A sudden agonising pain stabbed into the centre of his palm. It ran through him like a jolt of lightning: involuntarily, his left hand clenched tighter for a moment. Then he let out a yell as his fingers sprang open and the shell fell into the sea with a plop. "Chikusho!"

His eyes fastened on the palm of his hand, as he breathed in hard. At first there seemed to be nothing: then he saw, almost dead centre, a small dark red wound. Burning pain radiated out from it, shooting up into his wrist and beyond. "Nnghh..."

A thought abruptly gripped him: Where did the damn thing fall? He had a sudden vision of the shell creeping along the sea floor towards his bare feet: reacting instinctively he staggered backwards, heading into the shallows. The water seemed to drag and catch at his legs, the sand giving underfoot so that he almost fell. In a flurry of spray he lurched up the shelving beach until he reached dry land, more or less upright as he swayed to a halt.

His right hand had clamped around his left wrist: once again he stared disbelievingly at the place on his palm where the shell had – what? Bitten him? Stung him? But shells didn't have teeth, right? Did they have stings?

The little red wound had darkened already to an ugly purple: around it the skin was starting to flush pink. Unbelievably, the pain was getting worse: it was as if he'd picked up a white-hot coal and was squeezing it in his fist.

"Fuck - " Zoro clenched his hand, before turning and looking down the beach in the direction he'd come from. The only clear thought that found its way through the pain was, Whatever the hell that thing was that just got me, I have no idea. But that damn cook might. It was enough of a hope that it got him stumbling forwards, feet dragging through the warm sand.

Sanji had filled his collecting sack and was sitting just above the wave line enjoying a peaceful smoke break, when a familiar voice broke into his reverie. "Oi… Sanji!"

He sighed. "I knew it was too quiet to last…" He turned his head towards the sound, to see something that made him frown. Zoro approaching, not in his usual careless stride but hurrying; unsteady, almost staggering. And holding one arm across his chest in a way that made the chef think at first that the swordsman had fallen and broken it.

"Oi, what happened?" He got speedily to his feet. "You hurt, or what?"

Zoro came to a stop in front of him, bringing his left hand down from his chest and holding it out. "I picked up a shell and the fucking thing stung me… or some damn thing!"

Sanji looked at the outstretched hand. "What… Where? In the middle?" He reached out and took hold of the swordsman's fingers, bending his gaze onto the little dark wound on the skin. He brushed a forefinger lightly over the place – and felt Zoro jolt as if he'd kicked him.

"Nghh - " Zoro clenched his teeth. "Fuck – don't touch it, you idiot!"

"Oops. Sorry." Sanji kept his fingers well away from the centre of the other man's palm, though keeping hold of his fingers so he could hold Zoro's hand still and study the tiny wound. "What did this? A shell, you said?"

"Yeah – a shell – I picked it up and the damn thing attacked me!" Zoro tried to keep his hand still as Sanji studied it, though this took considerable effort.

"What kind of shell was it?"

"It was gold. And white. And brown." At Sanji's raised eyebrow, Zoro gave an angry shake of his head. "Fuck, I don't know! It was a shell! Pointy at one end, not pointy at the other! How the hell should I know what kind of shell it was?"

"It would help," said Sanji in an infuriatingly calm voice, "if at this point you could keep a cool head and furnish some actually useful information. How big was it?"

"A couple of inches long." Zoro wanted to punch the cook hard, but having only one good hand wasn't likely to win him a battle right now.

"And narrower at one end than the other. Shaped like this?" Sanji let go of Zoro's hand to bend down and swiftly draw a shape in the sand with one finger: a narrow triangle with a slightly rounded base.

Zoro blinked at the cook's field sketch. "Uh. Yeah."

Sanji straightened up. "You picked up a cone shell? Idiot! Don't you know that they're venomous?"

Zoro took a long breath. "I do now."

"Baka! You're not safe to be let out alone." Sanji grabbed his collecting bag up from the beach and gave Zoro a shove on his left shoulder. "Move!"

"Oi – who are you shoving?" Zoro wasn't going to take being pushed around, even with only one usable hand. "Where are you planning on going?"

"Back to the ship. Come on." Sanji gave him an impatient look. "The quicker the better. I don't fancy carrying your ugly carcass back if you keel over here on the beach."

"Keel over?" Zoro didn't like the sound of this. "Just how… venomous are we talking, with these things?"

"Depends," answered Sanji evasively.

"Depends on what?"

"On what kind of cone shell it was you picked up. Tell me again: what did it look like?"

"I told you. Gold. And white and brown. With, kind of patterns on it."

" 'Kind of patterns'?" Sanji spoke in short tones. "That's not so much a description as a word salad. Be more specific."

"I don't know. Lines and triangles. Patterns." Zoro tried to recall the image of the shell as it had lain in his palm, but the memory was overlaid with so much pain it was difficult to get hold of. "Brown and white and gold."

"Yes, you mentioned that already. Walk faster."

"Why?" Zoro was already finding the pace Sanji was setting increasingly challenging. "What's the big hurry?"

"I don't know much about cone shells. But what I do know is that when you get stung by one, about the only thing that works is putting whatever bit of you got stung into hot water. That's supposed to break down the venom."

"Supposed to?" Zoro didn't find this encouraging.

"Yeah. Hot water, as hot as you can bear. And to get hot water, we need to get back to the galley on the Going Merry. And I'm assuming that you'd like this to happen sooner rather than later. That's unless you're enjoying this experience, you masochistic bastard."

"Yarou…" Zoro growled this out, giving a shake of his head. "You think this is funny, you try it."

Sanji gave the swordsman a look. Zoro was usually capable of taking a lot of punishment without complaint, but sweat was standing out on his face. "Bad?"

"Had worse." Zoro was getting more taciturn as the pain increased. Stringing together sentences was beginning to take more concentration than he could manage.

"Right." Sanji upped the pace a little more.

It took them longer to reach the Going Merry than Sanji had hoped. Zoro stopped complaining but got slower: by the time they got to the ship's boat they'd left pulled up on the sand, Sanji was thinking he would have to manhandle the boat out into the shallows single-handed. But Zoro set his right shoulder to the boat's stern, shoving it out as Sanji hauled on its prow; and although their tumbling into the boat was probably as ungraceful a launch as it had ever seen, all things considered Sanji was grateful they were afloat.

He rowed towards the Going Merry with one eye on Zoro, who sat astern head hanging down, his left arm cradled against his body. The swordsman had his eyes shut, breathing slowly in and out through close-set lips; sweat still beading his skin. Sanji had seen Zoro beaten bloody; cut with sword wounds so bad that any other person would have fallen and never got up. He knew that Zoro was able to take punishment that most fighters would fold under... So looking at the swordsman now, it was clear that the pain he was suffering from the sting in his hand was off the scale. Sanji spoke up, loudly. "Soon as we get aboard, I'll heat up some water."

"Mhm." Zoro opened his eyes: gave a brief nod.

"Chopper'll probably have something that'll help, too." Sanji had no clue whether this was actually the case, but it didn't hurt to be optimistic. "Look on the bright side: if it was one of the deadly ones, you'd probably have croaked by now."

"Hah…" Zoro grimaced. "Keep on making cracks like that… and I'll spread some of my misery around."

"Yeah, I'm really worried. As if I couldn't take you even when you've got both hands in working order."

"My right hand is working just fine. And punching you would feel pretty good right now."

"Oi, who's the one rowing you back to the ship? Show some gratitude."

"If I hadn't come on this idiot seafood collecting expedition of yours, I wouldn't have got stung by that damn thing in the first place."

"It's not my fault you picked up a cone shell, moron. Anyone else would have had the good sense not to touch it." Sanji actually did feel a little responsible for Zoro's predicament, but he wasn't going to admit that: right now it was better if Zoro stayed angry. Angry, he'd probably feel the pain less.

"Shitty cook." Zoro frowned. "Shut up and row faster."

Once they reached the Going Merry, Sanji glanced back to offer Zoro assistance with climbing the rope ladder back up to the deck, only to get a scowl from the swordsman. "I can manage. Go and get that damn water heated."

Sanji left him to it, heading straight to the galley. Kindling a flame on the stove he half-filled a large saucepan with water, slamming it onto the heat. That done he returned back to the deck, to see Zoro making his way up the steps. "Water's heating. Go and sit down in there." Without waiting for a response he went swiftly back down to the main deck.

Usopp and Chopper were sitting in a patch of shade cast by the mainmast, having watched their crewmates' abrupt return. Usopp looked at Sanji puzzledly. "What's going on? You guys been fighting, or something? Zoro went past with a face like thunder."

"He's not in the best frame of mind." Sanji turned to Chopper. "You got anything in your stock of medicines, that might be good for treating stings or venom? That crap swordsman picked up a cone shell, and of course the damn thing stung him."

Chopper got up, looking alarmed. "A cone shell? That could be bad. I'll come and take a look."

Usopp also stood. "Yada! He picked up a cone shell? Why on earth did he do that?"

"I wouldn't ask him that right now, if I were you." Sanji jerked his head towards the galley. "Chopper, I'm heating some water for Zoro to put his hand in. That's the only thing I know about treating these kinds of stings… Unless you know different?"

"Yes; that's usually the best thing for them. Hot water." Chopper was frowning. "I'll come and take a look at his hand, then see if I've got anything in my stores that'll help."

When they reached the galley, Zoro was sitting at the table with an open bottle of sake in front of him. As they came to a halt beside him, he took a deep swig. Sanji eyed the bottle. "Yeah, that'll really help. Getting smashed out of your brains."

"Damare." Zoro took another gulp of sake. "Believe me when I say, I really need a drink."

Chopper came up to the swordsman. "Show me your hand," he directed. Zoro extended his left arm towards the doctor. Chopper shook his head. "Open your fingers. I can't see anything with it closed into a fist like that."

There was a pause. Sanji saw Zoro's brows draw down, as if with confusion: his left hand stayed clenched. "I… can't." His arm shook slightly, with effort. "Shit..!"

"All right." Chopper reached out and took hold of the swordsman's hand, with his usual precise delicacy. Carefully he took hold of the fingers and eased them open, provoking a brief wince from Zoro. Once the hand was open, Chopper scrutinised the wound in the centre of Zoro's palm. It was now an ugly purple-red, the flesh around it darkening too and starting to swell. Chopper frowned over the wound. "Tell me what happened."

"I picked up this… shell thing, and it stung me on the hand. So I dropped it." As Chopper gently turned the hand towards the light coming from the open galley doorway, Zoro let out a hard breath. "Uhhn… Why can't I move my fingers?"

"Some of these cone shells have venom that paralyses. They use it to catch their prey: small fishes and other creatures." Chopper gently let Zoro's hand rest back down on the table.

"Paralyse?" Zoro turned his gaze onto his left hand, which stayed as Chopper had laid it down: a stiff, unresponsive claw. "Paralyse for how long?"

"It depends on the type of cone shell." Chopper gave a short shake of his head. "I don't know much about these things… But at least this one wasn't deadly. Otherwise you wouldn't have made it back here."

Zoro said nothing in reply to that, but Sanji saw a muscle jump in his jaw. He knew at once what had struck home.

Not much chance of a man with only one usable hand becoming the greatest swordsman in the world.

Chopper headed towards the door. "As soon as the water is hot, immerse your hand in a bowl of it and keep it there. The hotter the better, as hot as you can bear. That will break the venom down. I'll get what I have to help with the pain." He was gone even as he finished speaking.

There was a silence in the galley. Sanji checked on the water on the stove: barely warm, yet. He crossed back to the table and sat down. Zoro was regarding his left hand fixedly: his right was clenched around the neck of the sake bottle.

"Don't think the worst." Sanji spoke quietly. "Likely it's only temporary."

"And if it's not?" Zoro's reply was also in a low tone, but it was a dangerous quietness.

Sanji took a deep breath. "Then… we'll figure something out. Chopper'll figure out a way to deal with it."

Zoro's mouth tightened. After a few moment's silence, he shut his eyes. "Fuck." Opening them again, he took a swig of sake. "And this stuff isn't even touching it. My arm feels like it's been set on fire."

"How about your hand?"

"Can't feel that at all any more. Just… ice, starting at my wrist." Zoro gave a grimace. "Hot ice."

"You can't have hot ice."

"I never thought so either. But I'm telling you, that's what it feels like." Zoro raised the sake and took another pull at the bottle. "One hell of a day this is turning out to be."

"Right." Sanji couldn't think of anything else to say to that.

"Isn't that water hot yet?"

"Getting there." Sanji got up and checked the pan, dipping in a finger. "Another couple of minutes."

Movement in the doorway made them both look around: Chopper had returned. Behind him in close succession were Luffy, Usopp, Nami and Robin. At once the galley became loud with a clamour of voices.

"What happened, Zoro?"

"Chopper said you'd been stung by a sea serpent!"

"He said by a shell, Luffy!"

"Are you all right? What can we do?"

Zoro eyed them balefully. "Great, just what I need right now. An audience of idiots."

"We're your friends!" Usopp effortlessly assumed his customary dramatic stance. "We have to stand by you in your time of need!"

"Which hand is it? Is it this one?" Luffy poked at Zoro's left hand with interest, drawing an angry yell from the swordsman. "Wow… It's going purple."

"Don't touch it, idiot!" Zoro pulled his arm away from Luffy, holding it up in the air.

"You should put it in hot water," advised Nami firmy. "Belle-mère always told me that was the best thing for these kinds of stings. Of course, you shouldn't have touched it in the first place. Those cone shells can be really dangerous."

"No - shit." Zoro gave her a look that would've scorched anyone except Nami into silence.

"Of course. Anyone who knows anything about seafaring knows that."

Sanji saw Zoro's right hand tighten on the bottle until the knuckles whitened. Great. Now he's going to smash the bottle and put his other hand out of commission too. "Nami-san, did your belle-mère say anything else about what helped with these kinds of stings?"

Nami shrugged. "Not that I remember. Hot water, was what she told me."

"Speaking of which." Zoro turned to Sanji. "Isn't that damn pan of water heated up yet?"

"I'll check - " Sanji turned to the stove, but as he did so he heard the chair scrape back from the table; and an instant later, Zoro pushed past him.

"Never mind. I'll do it myself." The swordsman stepped up to the pan. Slight wisps of steam were starting to curl up from the water. Sanji saw them and reached for the pan's handle.

"That looks hot enough. I'll pour it into a bowl - "

"Forget it." Zoro reached over the pan and without hesitation plunged his left hand into the steaming water. The assembled crew gave a collective intake of breath.

"Oi, what are you playing at! At least let me take it off the stove first!" Sanji moved again to grasp the pan's handle. Zoro stepped sideways, blocking him. "Hey!"

"Pipe down." Zoro spoke shortly, his hand immersed in the hot water up to the middle of his forearm. "Don't get excited, cook. Chopper said the hotter the water, the better. Leave it be."

Sanji scowled at him. "You're not making soup, moron! Get out of the way and let me douse the flame under the pan!"

"No." Zoro spoke with flat finality. "I can stand it hotter than this."

"Urrghhh…" Usopp groaned from the doorway. "Zoro, you're making me feel faint…"

"Then go away." Zoro looked at him, then at his other nakama. "This isn't a sideshow. All of you, get lost. The last thing I need right now is an audience. The only person that ought to be here is Chopper." There was a brief outburst of protest at this, to which Zoro merely raised his voice and shouted louder. "I'm not kidding! Get the hell out of here! If I need a bunch of idiots giving me six different kinds of advice, I'll ask for it."

Reluctantly, most of the Straw Hats exited the galley one by one. Luffy was the last to go. Pausing on the threshold, he pointed at the stove. "That water must be getting pretty hot."

Zoro let out a short sound. "Maybe… But I can't feel it much."

Luffy's eyebrows raised. "So we'll have swordsman soup for supper, ne?" He gave a wide grin. "Maybe I'll come back in a while and see how it's coming along." With that he removed himself from the doorway.

"Crazy idiot…" Zoro gave a short shake of his head.

"Says the crazy idiot who's cooking his own hand." Sanji stood leaning beside the sink, still unable to get past the swordsman to kill the flame under the pan. Letting out a sigh, he reached into his pocket for his cigarettes: took one out and lit it.

Chopper, who had remained after the other crew members had left, walked slowly over to where Zoro stood at the stove. "I said, 'as hot as you can bear'. But too hot and you will damage your hand just as badly as the venom could."

"It's all right." Zoro spoke firmly, though sweat was trickling down his neck. "It's like I said. I can barely feel it."

"That's even more reason to be careful. Not feeling it, you may injure yourself further." Chopper still spoke calmly. "Is that what you want?"

There was a silence. At last Zoro answered the little doctor. "No. I don't want that."

"Then let Sanji remove the pan from the heat. The water's hot enough. Any hotter and you'll scald yourself badly."

Zoro clenched his jaw. There was a moment's silence… Then he shifted sideways a little, just enough to allow access to the stove. Sanji immediately stepped over and doused the flame, reaching for the pan's handle. "Move. I'll bring it over to the table."

"Lift it. I'll keep my hand in the water."

"Idiot swordsman…" Sanji picked up the pan, taking it off the stove. Together, the two men moved to the table, where Sanji set the pan down. Zoro sat heavily, keeping his hand in the steaming water. For a few minutes, the three held silence. At last Chopper said, "Take it out a moment and let me see."

"I can keep it in longer."

"Just for a moment." Chopper spoke firmly.

Zoro's mouth tightened stubbornly. "I said, I can stand it."

Sanji regarded the swordsman's hand. The skin had gone an angry red where the water covered it. "Take your hand out of the water, fucking marimo. Or I'll take it out for you."

"Try it."

"Aho…" Sanji narrowed his eyes. "Chopper knows what he's doing. Take your hand out. Right now."

There was a moment's more angry silence… Then Zoro slowly removed his hand from the water, holding it out towards Chopper. "Here."

Chopper scrutinised the wound carefully, before giving a nod. "Okay. You can put it back in." Zoro immediately returned his hand into the water. "How does it feel?"

"Like I've got my arm stuck in a pan of hot water." Zoro breathed out hard.

"Can you move your fingers at all?"

Zoro scowled with effort: in the water, a couple of his fingers twitched. "Nghh…"

"Good. It looks like it's working." Chopper reached for a small bottle he'd set on the table. "Sanji, get a cup of water."

"Hot water?"

"No, cold." Chopper uncorked the bottle: when Sanji put the cup of water on the table, Chopper tipped a few drops of dark brown liquid from the bottle into the cup, then pushed it across the table to Zoro. "Drink this down."

Zoro eyed it. "What is it?"

"Something that'll help with the pain."

Zoro picked the cup up immediately and knocked its contents back, setting the empty cup back on the table. Pulling a face he muttered, "Tastes like shit."

"Stop complaining." Sanji sat opposite with arms folded.

"Drop dead." Zoro propped his forehead against his good hand, leaning one elbow on the table. "Hahh…"

"It'll take a little while to work," said Chopper. "Meanwhile, if you keep your hand in the hot water, that'll help."

For some time they sat in silence around the table. Sanji watched the swordsman, finishing his cigarette. Zoro had shut his eyes, but gradually the tense lines around his eyes and mouth eased a little. At last Chopper spoke again. "That should be long enough. Take your hand out." Zoro did so: holding his hand in front of him, he appeared to concentrate. The fingers twitched, then curled inwards a little. He let out a breath.

"You can move it." Sanji was surprised by the relief that he felt.

"Not much… But it's getting easier." Zoro frowned with effort and his fingers curled a little more: his hand shook. "Ughh."

"It should gradually come back to normal." Chopper took another careful look at the wound. "I've got some salve here that will help, too."

"Whatever." Zoro laid his hand palm upwards on the table. "Put it on."

It took a while for Chopper to apply the salve, after which he bound up Zoro's hand in a tightly-wound bandage. Zoro made no complaint at the doctoring, although once or twice his shoulders tensed. When it was done Chopper gathered up his medical kit. "That's the most we can do. You just need to give it time now, for the venom to work its way out of your system. How do you feel?"

"Better." Zoro was turning his bandaged left hand one way and another, examining it as he flexed his fingers. His gaze lifted to the little doctor. "At least… I can feel it now. My hand. The damn thing feels like I slammed it in a door, but at least I can feel it."

Sanji regarded him. Zoro's face was still beaded with sweat; the swordsman's colour was pretty bad. "You look like crap."

"Yeah well… It's been that kind of day." Zoro shut his eyes briefly, swallowing. When he opened them again, he blinked. "Uh… I need some air…" He got up so swiftly that his chair almost fell over backwards, before he moved rapidly towards the door.

"Where are you going?" Sanji frowned.

"Out… Just…" Then Zoro was gone through the open doorway. Sanji and Chopper exchanged a look. There was brief pause… before the unmistakeable sound of someone violently throwing up reached their ears.

"Ah." Sanji grimaced. "Let's hope he made it to the rail."

Further unappealing sounds continued. Sanji considered going to Zoro's aid… then thought better of it. Vomit was definitely not his thing. And it was unlikely that he could do anything apart from spectate, which was not an attractive prospect. "Do you think he'll be all right?"

"Yes. It's just the venom passing through his system." Chopper headed for the doorway himself. "Once he's stopped vomiting, he should drink plenty of water. And no more sake."

"I'll let you tell him that." Sanji picked up the now cooling pan of water from the table and took it to the sink, tipping it down the drain.

Six of the crew ate supper that evening, out on the main deck where a cool breeze chased away the heat of the day. The general opinion was that Sanji's paella was a triumph: a vote of confidence that was pleasing. He'd spent a long time on preparing the dish, immersing himself in balancing flavours and cooking each of the ingredients perfectly. It had been a welcome distraction from listening to the intermittent sounds of Zoro still suffering the after-effects of the cone shell venom. It wasn't that Sanji was unfeeling: rather, that creating good food was a demanding business that wasn't much assisted by the mental picture of someone puking their guts up barely five yards away. After a while Sanji had shut the galley porthole and bent his attention on the food. He had made a gesture of support, soon after Zoro's sudden exit from the galley: taking out a jug of cool water and a mug. But Zoro had barely acknowledged him, merely letting out a grunt as he stayed leaning with his head resting on his folded arms on the stern rail. So Sanji had left him to it.

Anyway, he was a cook, not a doctor. That was Chopper's department. And directing his attention to his cooking had worked. He'd produced a new dish he was pretty happy with, and his nakama were really enjoying it. Everyone was now well fed, and that was how it should be. Well, nearly everyone.

Luffy nudged him in the ribs. "Is there more?"

"Of course." Sanji got up and fetched the paella pan over. "Ladies first…" He gave Nami and Robin one of his most melting smiles. "A little more?"

"Just a spoonful," replied Nami, holding out her plate. Beside her Robin shook her head.

"Not for me. It was delicious, but I can't eat another thing."

"I can!" Luffy was edging into Sanji's field of vision. "I can eat lots more! Look, my plate's empty!"

"All right, dumbass," Sanji growled, having elegantly served Nami's portion. "There's enough for everyone to have seconds, I made plenty. Stop stalking me or I'm not serving you another thing."

Luffy pouted, which made Sanji deliberately leave him till last as he dished up to the crew. As soon as his plate was refilled Luffy fell upon it in his usual ravening manner, making appreciative noises. Sanji would have been more flattered by his captain's enthusiasm if he hadn't known that for Luffy, food was about quantity rather than quality.

Usopp belched, then put up a hand to his mouth. "Oops. 'Scuse me. That really was good, Sanji. I didn't even recognise some of the seafood you put in it, but it all tasted great. Looked good, too."

The corner of Sanji's mouth lifted as he sparked up his customary post-meal cigarette. "Thank you. I was inspired by some of the things I found around the shore. Even though it's only a small island, there's an amazing variety of marine life here."

"Speaking of marine life… How's our shell collector?" Robin lifted an enquiring eyebrow. "Still feeding the fishes?"

"I think he stopped puking a while ago," answered Nami, her enjoyment of the end of her meal apparently in no way diminished by the topic. "Either that or he leaned out so far he fell over the stern."

Robin grinned. "We'd have heard the splash." They laughed, joined by Usopp and Luffy.

Chopper looked at his crewmates somewhat disapprovingly. "That's a little unkind. It can't have been much fun, suffering what he did."

"O, lighten up, Chopper." Nami grinned at him. "You know how Zoro is about injuries. He doesn't let getting hurt slow him down for long. It's just funny, that what did for him was a tiny little cone shell."

"We should buy an empty cone shell at the next island we come to, if they have a market there." Robin's eyes narrowed mischievously. "We could give him it as a present, to remind him not to pick one up again."

Nami's face lit up. "Or we could drop it down inside his shirt, and have fun watching him try to get it out before he thinks it's going to sting him."

Sanji snorted. "Good luck with that. If you do it I will be stricken with grief but unsurprised when he beats you to death with whatever blunt instrument comes to hand."

Nami laughed. "He wouldn't dare."

Sanji blew out a stream of smoke, knowing that she was probably right. Both women were strong and more than capable of dishing out trouble, but rarely got a taste of their own medicine. Largely because all the male crew members were bound by the convention that hitting women was, well, not acceptable. No matter if they had hit you first, even in that vulnerable place that left you gasping on the deck clutching your kintama and waiting for the sensation to diminish from utter agony to just extreme pain.

"Is there any more food?" Luffy, ever single-minded, looked hopefully at the paella pan where it lay on the deck.

"No." Sanji got up, collecting the pan as he did so. "It's all been eaten."

"Ahh…" Luffy looked bereaved, as he often did at the end of mealtimes. "It was so good. I could eat it all over again."

"As it was a success, I may cook it another day." Sanji gave him a smile round his cigarette. "But for now: bring your empty dishes up to the galley, when you're done."

The galley had hung on to the heat of the day, combined with the heat of cooking: it felt muggy in there. Sanji propped the door ajar and opened the portholes, letting the evening breeze travel through. Once the crew had delivered their supper dishes he set about washing up and clearing away, taking his time. The paella pan needed soaking overnight before cleaning, so he left it almost filled with water in the sink. That done he lit another cigarette, boiled a kettle of water and made himself a coffee. The rest of the hot water he poured into a teapot which had a tea infuser filled with a mixture of herbs and spices he'd prepared earlier. He let it steep for a little while, filling a dish with rice crackers from a stash he kept where Luffy wouldn't find them, in a tin buried inside a sack of flour. That done he picked up the teapot, an empty mug, the dish of crackers and his own coffee, before strolling out of the door and around to the stern of the ship.

It was late enough in the evening now that the sun had dropped below the horizon. There was still plenty enough light to see the figure sitting cross-legged on the deck by the stern rail, leaning back against it. Sanji advanced light-footed, in case Zoro was sleeping. But as he drew close the swordsman stirred, lifting his head and opening his eyes to look up at him. Sanji stopped by the rail; let himself sit down on the deck. "Here." He set the teapot and mug beside the swordsman. "Ginger, mint and fennel tea. Drink it while it's hot."

Zoro frowned at the pot. "I don't want anything. Least of all some – weird herbal brew."

Sanji sighed. "It'll settle your stomach, moron. It's good for nausea. I've used it for all sorts: sea sickness, 'flu, morning sickness - "

"I'm not a pregnant woman."

"That hadn't escaped my notice. But nonetheless, it will help." As Zoro continued to regard the teapot with suspicion, Sanji grew irritated. "What are you, a toddler? Do I need to fetch some honey to sweeten your medicine?"

"Shitty cook." But Zoro reached out and picked up the teapot: poured out a mugful. Picking it up and taking a wary sip, he pulled a face. "Oi… That tastes even weirder than it smells."

"Man up." Sanji took a sip of his coffee.

With evident reluctance, Zoro took another swallow of the spice tea. "What's in the dish?"

"Rice crackers."

"I'm not hungry."

"Not now, sure. But once that tea settles your stomach, you ought to put something into it."

"Are you a nurse now? I told you, I don't want anything to eat. I've just spent the last few hours turning inside out over that rail. Food is not something I even want to think about."

"You've stopped throwing up. So the best thing is to eat, just something small and simple. Otherwise you won't be able to sleep."

"I don't need anything to eat. What I need is a drink."

"No. Chopper said, no alcohol till tomorrow at the earliest."

"Fucking pain-in-the-ass reindeer. What does he know?"

"More than you, pain-in-the-ass swordsman. Drink your tea."

Zoro subsided into moody silence… But took another sip from the faintly steaming mug. After a while, Sanji said quietly, "Anyway… When someone brings you a peace offering, the polite thing to do is accept it gracefully."

Zoro looked at him. "Peace offering?"

"Mm." Sanji breathed out a mouthful of smoke.

"What are you talking about?"

"What you said, when I was rowing us back to the ship. About it being my fault you got stung, because I asked you to come out collecting seafood with me." Sanji shrugged. "You weren't entirely talking crap. For once." He gave Zoro a quick look. "Not that I'm saying it was all my responsibility. If I'd known you were going to grab every unsuitable thing you could lay hands on, I wouldn't have asked you to come along in the first place. But…" He took a deep breath; sighed. "I suppose I should have warned you. About what kinds of things not to pick up."

There was a longish silence. At last Zoro took another swallow of tea, before saying in level tones, "That would have been… helpful."

"Or you could have asked me, before you went stomping off in a flurry of spray." Sanji felt a little needled, that his almost-apology didn't seem to be getting the respect he felt it deserved.

"You told me to go on ahead. Amongst other things."

"Yes." Sanji gritted his teeth. "I did. But I didn't tell you to find the most venomous thing you could and poke it till it stung you."

"I only picked the fucking thing up because I thought you'd like to see it!" That burst out of Zoro unexpectedly and left a crowded little silence between them.

After a few seconds, Sanji asked carefully, "What?"

"The shell. Cone shell, whatever the hell it was. It was covered in patterns – like someone had decorated it. I thought that maybe you'd have liked to see it." Zoro's voice had dropped into a mutter now.

"Oh." Sanji thought for a moment, trying to work out what it was Zoro was trying so hard not to actually come out and say. He was bringing the damn thing back for me, as a present? Because it was pretty to look at? That was so bizarre a notion to imagine Zoro having, that Sanji almost couldn't believe it. Except that, on some level, it was precisely what Zoro would do. See something he liked and take it, regardless of consequences. Although in this case it appeared that for once his motivation hadn't been about self-gratification... but about pleasing Sanji. And that was a radical enough gear change that Sanji was simultaneously surprised and gratified. "Well… Thanks for the thought. But next time, take me to whatever it is you find, rather than the other way round."

"There's not going to be a next time." Zoro rallied with his customary flare of temper. "If you need company on a seaside hunt in future, take someone else with you."

Well, so much for savouring a moment of tenderness. Sanji felt an answering flare of irritation kindling in himself, at how quickly Zoro seemed to be able to cover up even the slightest show of what might be perceived as affection. Not to mention, how the swordsman appeared to be unappreciative of the fact that Sanji had at least tried to make an apology for the whole unfortunate incident. "With pleasure." He stood up. "By the way, I made the seafood we collected into an excellent paella. Everyone enjoyed it." Zoro looked up at him, frowning. "So there's none left. Enjoy your rice crackers." With that Sanji strode away, leaving a blue curl of cigarette smoke ghosting into nothingness in the evening air.

After Sanji had gone, Zoro remained sitting by the stern rail for some time. He finished the spice tea, twisting his mouth at the taste of it. He wasn't a fan of herbal brews. He'd been dosed with too many vile herbal medicines as a child - before he'd got old enough to conceal any signs of infirmity - to tolerate them well now. Although he had to admit, that annoying cook had been right. The tea did improve the state of his guts. Improved them well enough that not long after finishing it, he surprised himself by slowly munching his way through the dish of rice crackers that Sanji had left behind.

It was just Sanji's way, he knew: no-one aboard this ship would ever have to go hungry. Sanji would feed his worst enemy if he was starving, just as well as he would feed his nakama. So the cook bringing him tea and rice crackers was just a reflex. It wasn't some grand gesture of anything significant.

Zoro frowned at the empty dish. He was used to looking after himself when ill or injured. Letting someone else look after you was being weak, and that was something he was determined not to be. Yet the cook would never take no for an answer. Even when you made it clear in a physically direct manner. And tonight, weary after spending a large part of the day hung over the stern rail retching till he'd thought he was going to start seeing his internal organs appearing, Zoro had had no energy to put up more than a token resistance.

Then there was that weird moment when it seemed almost like Sanji had been… apologising. That had been even more surprising than the offering of herbal tea and rice crackers. Sanji didn't do apologising. Not to Zoro, certainly. Arguing; bitching and moaning; fighting; all of the above. And there was a certain familiar comfort to all of these. Zoro knew where he was when they were locked in verbal or physical sparring. It was well-known territory. But a Sanji who solicitously brought healing tea and snacks, as if Zoro was Nami or Robin; who admitted to actually having done something wrong… that was unsettling.

It was too much on top of a trying day: Zoro decided to stop thinking about it. After all, Sanji had parted with a waspish comment, which was definitely more in character. And frankly, the day had been complicated enough without pondering the randomness of the cook's moods. Picking up the empty teapot, mug and dish he stood up and walked slowly round to the galley. It was dark and quiet inside, for which he was thankful. He left the crockery in the sink and headed out and down to the maindeck, then down through the hatch to the men's sleeping quarters. A chorus of snores met him in the darkness. Picking his way carefully through the gloom he kicked off his boots, climbed into his hammock and stretched out, letting go of a long sigh.

His left arm lay across his body, his hand resting on his stomach. Over the last few hours the feeling had continued to return to his hand and fingers: now he could feel them distinctly, an unpleasant prickling and tingling as if he'd lain awkwardly on the limb and it was coming back to life with a rush of pins and needles. Although usually the stinging of pins and needles only lasted a couple of minutes before subsiding: this sensation persisted, waxing and waning in intensity but never going away. His arm felt wrong too… A toothache-like nagging pain ran up and down it as if he'd jarred it badly. He flexed his fingers experimentally, trying to tighten them into a fist: they moved but the burning and tingling spiked, making him clench his jaw.

Damn. He forced himself to relax. He should be able to deal with this. Whenever he got injured there was always a period of time he had to endure, when he wasn't able to get his body to do what he wanted. It always made him feel the same way: frustrated with his own physical limitations. Impatient with anyone who tried to get him to ease up until he recovered. As soon as he was able, he wanted to be up and training, working, fighting. That was the only way to bury the memory of whatever had got through his guard… this time. The only way to make sure that next time he would be faster, stronger, more skilled.

The burning and tingling in his hand and arm was unpleasant, but it was more welcome than the chill numbness that had been creeping up it before he'd plunged his hand into the pan of hot water. Pain was a known thing, something he could handle. And most likely he'd wake tomorrow and the pain would be gone, or at least lessened to the point where he could ignore it. The nausea had already gone, perhaps helped by Sanji's herbal brew. He still felt less than great: a headache sat in his skull like a stone, and sweat was making his shirt cling to his back. But doubtless that would pass too, by morning. Meantime the only thing that was likely to help was sleep. And he could already feel himself sliding down into it. Shifting slightly in his hammock, he took a deep breath in: let it out. Felt the darkness drift in.