Warning: This one's a little graphic, and not in a sexy way. No pairings in this one.
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He had seen plenty of blood in his life, but never had he seen this much blood from one person.
Or rather… One corpse…
The body lay still on the floor, the blood pooling around it and slowly spreading across the cold stone beneath it.
The body itself was… Unrecognizable.
Blood covered what was left of the person's tattered flesh - almost all of the skin looking as though it had been sliced and torn. There was a gaping hole where the heart would be. The neck had a huge, deeply cut slit in it. And the head… Had there ever even been a face on it? It was so… distorted…
Whoever they had been…. They had been mutilated…
A shiver ran down his spine as he tried to mentally picture the murder, but he quickly shut it out. Even he, a so-called demon, couldn't handle such brutality.
It was then that the sound of a sharp inhale reached his ears.
His golden earrings chimed, bumping into each other as he turned his head to the source of the sound. As he spotted what it was, he felt his heart leap into his throat.
There was another person, albeit this one was still alive. Their head was downcast, and they were also covered from head to toe in blood; however it didn't look as though they had many wounds.
What was most unsettling though was the blade, also drenched in blood, that was resting on the ground, it's hilt held in the person's hands.
It wasn't just any blade though. It was Shusui. His sword that had been removed from his possession in his last fight. It had been taken before the fight had even begun; and it had then been thrown down a crevice in the crumbling stone floor. Once he'd defeated his opponent, he set off to find it immediately, and while he was relieved to have finally done so… This wasn't how he had wanted to find it.
Not soaked in blood.
Not in the hands of the cook.
Yes, there was no doubting it. The blond hair, the pale skin, the tattered yellow dress shirt… All of which was now covered in drying crimson liquid…
He said nothing as he quietly moved closer, trying not to scare the other man as he leaned down beside him, slowly pulling the hilt of Shusui out of his grasp and placing the blade off to the side.
The action caused the small, nearly silent sobs to turn into a sharp gasp; the blood-drenched blond's head snapping up to look at him with wide eyes… Eyes full of fear.
He remained still, giving the chef the time he needed to register who he was. For the fear in his eyes to make room for the tiniest bit of relief, only to be overpowered by agony. For him to fall forward into his chest. For the tears to begin to fall freely.
Zoro remained still, doing nothing more than placing a reassuring hand on the cook's arm.
He wouldn't ask or pry. He didn't need to know how the man had found Shusui, or why he'd used it to brutally murder someone. He knew what had happened. The state of the blond's clothes, or rather lack thereof, told him more than enough.
However, if the chef ever wanted to talk about it, he would listen. Although, he hoped such a thing would never happen.
He didn't want Sanji to ever relive that experience again.