Early in the morning, Chopper returned, his fur dry, but his eyes red, and Sanji's mind went dull as he continued his examinations. Poking and pinching and prodding. Asking him if he could do this or that, not looking surprised when he couldn't. In the end, all Sanji learned about his right arm was that he could just about move two fingers. He could raise his arm, but his hand remained limp and he couldn't seem to quite straighten out his elbow.
"I'm going to give you a brace for your arm to help you, um, do things," Chopper concluded as Sanji turned his arm this way and that, distantly watching the way his hand flopped like a grotesque fish.
"Do what?" Sanji said as blandly as he could. The two had completely avoided the topic of last night and it was taking its toll on the both of them. He didn't even dare to do something as volatile as sarcasm, just in case it would set off another emotional scene.
"W-well...you would be able to hold things, kinda? If you balanced it...though I suppose it would take some practice...and if you're able to handle walking around, then it would help you with crutches."
"I can use crutches?" With the whirlwind of thoughts about his hands occupying his mind, he had honestly completely forgotten about his legs. Walking around sounded nice. It sounded like doing something. And in any case, it was starting to feel like all his blood had migrated to his back.
Chopper stiffened. "W-well, I mean...it depends on you? You should rest, of course! And you're still connected to an IV, so. But. Well. I guess...if you can handle it without putting too much stress on your legs...?"
Luckily for him, only one of his legs was still in plaster. The other one was wrapped in some sort of thick brace and he was sure it could handle a little pressure, so he would just need one crutch, which was just about all he could hold in the first place. One specialized crutch even, as Chopper explained that he was going to attach something that would allow him to rest his forearm on it for better stability. Chopper wrapped more things around his arm until he felt like an armored soldier (or maybe more like a poseable figure considering the way his hands were adjusted for maximum efficacy). The crutch was clipped into his hand and he was helped up into some sort of standing position.
Walking was like a comedy of errors.
He had to learn how to balance his own weight all over again, and every time he failed, he couldn't even stay up on his own – not without the ability to even flail his arms around to propel himself back upright. Chopper stuck to his side the whole time, alternating between pushing the IV drip along with him and making sure he didn't fall over. Despite all his determination, he could only seem to put up an embarrassing show.
"You're doing alright," was Chopper's only remark, coupled with a smile so encouraging that it was painful. "I don't want you to exhaust yourself or anything...and I don't want you walking around unless I'm there to make sure you're doing alright. You need someone else to handle your IV drip anyways, so you can't actually go anywhere on your own. Um...I...I don't think...you shouldn't be outside for now...so I guess you're confined to the infirmary and the dining room...? Okay?"
It wasn't a large area, but with his crutch it was probably big enough to feel like a trip around the world. Just walking around in the infirmary was winding him out. "Can I see the kitchen?"
"Th-the kitchen is off-limits too! I-I'm sorry, but you might – it could – "
"I just wanna look."
Chopper squeaked something as he hobbled towards the door but opted to follow along rather than let Sanji pull out the IV needle. He was even kind enough to go ahead and open the door for him.
The few people at the dining table seemed just about as surprised to see him as he was seeing them. In the one instant spent gawking at each other, Sanji took in the oppressive atmosphere, the tired eyes, the worried lips. And then in the next instant, these were all shoved desperately to the far corners of the room.
"Sanji!" Usopp jumped out of his seat, abandoning some weird gadget he had been working on. He hadn't worked on his projects at the dining table ever since Sunny gave him an actual workplace. "Chopper told us you woke up yesterday! You're already walking around? That's great!" The sharpshooter had shot himself to his side and raised a hand to clap him on the back, but hesitated. Sanji saw Chopper nod out of the corner of his eye and Usopp completed the affectionate gesture.
At the other end of the dinner table, a rousing violin solo started up. It felt like a massage, something that rubbed his tense muscles down and soothed his back. "Yohohohoho! Seeing you in motion is certainly a sight for sore eyes! But of course, I don't – "
"You joining us for breakfast? It'll be real super to have you 'round again!" Franky's hand was probably large enough to engulf Sanji's entire head, but the cyborg still managed to simply ruffle his hair in an aggravatingly parental manner. Sanji automatically ducked away and ended up almost unbalancing again. The entire room held its breath until Chopper settled him back on his feet, and even then Sanji had to give a weak smile he didn't really feel for everybody else to mirror his expression.
"Maybe. I still feel like shit. But it's nice to see your weird faces again."
"'Weird?!'" came the protests as Sanji made his way towards a chair with Chopper trailing behind. Usopp strode beside him, wagging a finger but not quite physically poking him. "What kinda thing is that to say after being unconscious for days!"
"It's not like I was aware of time, y'know. From my perspective, I coulda been asleep for minutes."
"Still, what an incredibly rude greeting, Sanji-san!"
"I can't help it if it's true," he replied with a one-sided shrug as he slid into a seat and slumped in a very ungentlemanly way. His eyes flicked to all three of them in turn. "Weird nose. Weird chin. And I don't even know where to start with you. You're like the Weird Face Trio."
"Ahaha...well, I try my best, bro..."
"He wasn't complimenting you."
"Oh? I wonder if my face is weird too..."
That one voice jolted Sanji back onto his feet and snap his head towards the kitchen. With all the guys that surrounded him, he had been too distracted to even glance at his haven. And so, he hadn't noticed that Robin had been in the room the whole time.
"No! Of course not! Robin-chan's face is always a delight!"
"Ah, a weird face."
"It appears a weird face has shown up."
"We have a new Weird Face bro."
"Shut up!" Sanji snapped at the peanut gallery watching unimpressed from the dining table. His snarling face would have probably been more effective if he could back it up with even a shaking fist, but that was currently an impossibility. After a few awkward seconds during which he attempted to figure out if his limited range of movement included threatening gestures, Sanji turned to Chopper. "Kick them for me."
"That's not what I'm here for!"
"If you aren't too occupied, would you like me to get you a drink, Sanji?" Robin called from the kitchen, unfazed by the ruckus.
"Oh, no need to trouble yourself~" Sanji sang back, going full-speed towards the kitchen even as he started to wonder how exactly he was supposed to carry a glass back to the table.
"Sanji! Sanji!" Chopper shouted down by his legs, struggling to catch up without overturning the IV while also trying to get in front of the cook to stop him. "I already told you! You can't go in there!"
Although he stopped himself, Sanji looked from the kitchen back down at Chopper and almost felt like whimpering.
Robin's smile was sympathetic. "I can bring the glass to you."
"Make sure to get him a straw," Chopper told her as he led Sanji back to the table, where Usopp and Franky promised with unspoken words to distract him with the random knick-knacks they were currently working on.
But even with their efforts to make him excited about weird machines or plant weapons, Sanji kept looking back towards the kitchen, watching Robin shuffle about with ingredients and utensils. She seemed to know where to find things pretty well, no doubt due to having to learn within the past few days he was out of commission.
The fact that he actually had to lean over the table to even drink the water Robin brought to him was also making him feel self-conscious, and whenever he straightened back up he kept thinking he'd catch the others with a pitying look in their eyes.
As soon as he finished his drink, he struggled back to his feet. Everybody's questioning words glided off his ears.
"Sorry, I'm feeling tired. Someone can bring me breakfast later."
When Chopper helped him back into the infirmary's bed, he looked like he wanted to say something. Something potentially prodding and personal. And so Sanji ignored him. Chopper lost his nerve shortly after.
"God, you look pitiful."
"Ah, Nami-san, I'm so lucky that you'd pity a man like me~"
If Nami didn't currently have a tray of steaming soup in her hands, she would have clasped one over her forehead with all the patience of a goddess with a migraine. But she did and so she could only grunt out an onerous sigh. (But a frustrated Nami-san was adorable too~!) "I'd say it's the painkillers talking, but you're normally this stupid."
Sanji shakily scrabbled himself into something approximating a sitting position so that Nami could balance the tray on his lap. With the support of his arm brace, it was getting a lot easier to maneuver himself, which was a lot better than having to ask for someone's help. Not that he liked the idea of getting used to having shitty dysfunctional arms, but he had to cling to any semblance of autonomy he had left or else he'd go crazy.
"So you're here instead of Chopper?" he asked, staring hard at the spoon resting in the bowl. He could see its handle between his fingers, but it was still hard to discern whether it would actually stay. Not when it felt like someone else's hand entirely was grabbing at the utensil. "I'm not complaining, of course, it's just that Chopper's barely left my side. Figured he'd be the one to watch me eat."
"Even doctors need to rest, you know. Chopper's been working himself sick for the past few days." There was a clank as the spoon slipped back into the bowl. He hadn't managed to balance it at all. Sanji hissed back a curse as he glanced at Nami, but she was looking at the far wall, not even facing him. "Robin suggested that he finally get some rest and asked me to bring this instead."
"Aah, Robin-chan's homemade cooking~" he trilled.
"Actually, Usopp made that."
"Tch. That shitty mushroom-hating moron wouldn't know soup if it bit him in the ass." Still, he was already maneuvering his hand around the spoon again. The way he tried to pinch the handle between his pinky and ring finger was probably the most uncomfortable thing he had ever seen. Still, this was the only way he could be sure that the spoon was being held in place by something. But then again, he didn't want to do something stupid like somehow dislocate a finger. A conundrum indeed. The spoon remained innocently in the bowl.
"Speaking of inexperienced chefs, we couldn't ask you before who you'd want cooking in your place, being unconscious and all. I mean, we managed to work something out, but if you want to specify who's allowed in the kitchen – "
"Not Luffy."
Was that the beginnings of a smile? "We already know."
"Not the over-muscled brute either," he added as the spoon started to lift off again. As it began to break out of the general bowl area, Sanji started to actually consider the question. "He's competent enough to do dishes though, so get him to do that. You and Robin-chan are always welcome, of course~"
Nami sighed. "Thanks, but the East Blue boys said I'm not allowed to cook. Some of them are still in debt from the last time."
About halfway up, the spoon started to shake, dribblets falling over the sides en masse like overflowing tears. His arm was starting to slow its ascent too, and he frowned at that. At this rate, he would be forced to lean forward awkwardly and see if his lips could reach far enough to suck at least something down his throat. He would probably die of embarrassment if it ever came to that. "Usopp's allowed in too. And Chopper, if he can keep his fur out of the food."
"Chopper? I didn't expect you to say that."
Sanji gave his best go at a shrug, though he couldn't imagine that it looked much different from just another spasm. "He knows herbs. He mixes medicines. If he follows a recipe, he could probably do decently enough."
"Anybody else?"
His arm was refusing to go any higher now, not even managing to get up to his shoulder. And the spoon was now threatening to jitter straight out of his fingers; moving it mouthward was just going to be an unpleasantly messy experience. He let the whole thing fall again. "Brook'll just break everything. Shitty skeleton only knows how to boil water, and even then he might set something on fire. If everybody else is busy, that half-naked pervert'll do. Just brace yourself for his shitty cola."
"Oh my god will you just ask for help already."
Sanji looked up. Without his noticing, Nami had finally turned to look down at him, face flushed and eyes shining like an exploding star. His usual lovestruck smile faltered at the sight of her own expression, a frown of frustration directed at him, and not just the usual, completely understandable frustration she directed towards any of the other idiots on the ship, but the sort of frustration that tried to bite and kick away suffocating helplessness in the way dying animals did against predators.
He looked back down at the untouched soup and was briefly glad that he could still feel whether he was about to bite through his lip before beaming back up at Nami once more. "A-are you offering to spoon-feed me with love, Nami-san?!"
Yes, there it was again, the frustration of being the only reasonable being in the world. Not at all laced with sorrow. "I'll get Zoro to do it."
"No."
His immediate horror might have induced laughter in any other situation, but Nami's expression only darkened, now as stormy as the seas she often navigated. Sanji paused again before lightly saying, "With his shitty sense of direction, I doubt he'd even find my – "
"You're unbelievable," Nami snapped, her nails clicking against the spoon's handle as she scooped it up and jabbed it into Sanji's open mouth. It wasn't the best method of transporting soup into someone's stomach (not that he would say (not that he could say)) and he almost gagged out the entire spoonful. Rivulets trickled down his chin and mingled with his facial hair before they could reach his bandaged torso. Despite his preoccupation with not drowning on a ship that wasn't even sinking, he still felt out the soup with a chef's tongue – it had been rather clear, but was also relatively bland, as though someone had soaked a fish in a pot of water and called it a day.
"Naggi-gwahhn?" he managed to gurgle around the metal protrusion. Miraculously, no more soup spilled out of his mouth. He was trying to swallow it down before anything more could be wasted, but every time he tried, the back of his throat pushed painfully against the spoon and it felt like everything went down the wrong way and if he coughed, he would surely spit on Nami's pure visage completely accidentally by chance and if that happened he would probably throw himself off the ship right then and there –
"You really haven't changed at all," said the navigator, as though she wasn't stabbing a blunt object through his face. "After all this time..."
Finally, she deigned to release his esophagus. Sanji took a moment to swallow and lick some of the excess soup off his chin. "I – "
Nami shoved more soup in his mouth, but this gesture was less sharp, thankfully, and he was able to gulp this spoonful down without incident. He was starting to get the idea and obediently kept his mouth closed, even as the sides of the utensil bit at the side of his cheek.
"You haven't even matured one bit. After all this time. Unbelievable." The spoon clacked back into the bowl and immediately resurfaced, this time shaking with the tension that traveled from Nami's set jaw. "Even I got stronger after two years, you know. I was training all that time to fight. I'm a part of the crew too. So was that for nothing, then?"
She paused, like she really did want an answer, but it was hard to give one with his mouth full. Even if he could, the way the conversation would go was already mapping itself out in his mind; No, no, of course not, Nami-san, I would never; So then why did you do that?; I just didn't want, I couldn't, if I came back and found you...gone; So you think I can't take care of myself; No, no no no; How ironic, coming from a worthless man who couldn't even take care of himself; No, it wasn't like that; (she throws the bowl against the wall, it shatters, shards falling like cherry blossoms, but harsh, much too harsh, breaking skin only recently healed, soup everywhere, too much soup, flooding with soup) I could never love someone like you (she opens the door and leaves, disappears from his life forever and never looks back and)
Okay, woah there. That got a little out of hand.
Sanji sucked on his cheek as Nami removed the spoon. Before she could stuff his mouth again, he said, "It's just, if I'm there, then you don't have to fight."
The spoon froze above the soup. "Why, 'cause you can get beaten to a bloody pulp instead?"
"If you had – I just don't want – " He took a deep, rattling breath, tried again, couldn't find the words. His eyes drifted, flickered over to her hands, soft but slightly calloused at her fingertips, tinged with ink in some places where she had been less attentive in washing. Overall, they fit the definition of 'unwounded.'
He asked, "How are you?"
"I should be asking you that," she said, her amber eyes flitting to his own pale hands just lying there at his sides and looking as fine as hers. He couldn't help but glower at that – completely unwounded but still broken all the same, what a fucking joke. So glad the cosmos and its reigning gods had such humor.
"I'm fine as long as you're fine." His smile was utterly genuine when Nami turned towards him again, he made extra sure of that. But her eyes only seemed to get colder.
"You're not a knight, Sanji-kun." she said, some of her glare injected in her voice. "And I'm not some precious china doll."
He had to falter at that and settled his fluttering gaze at the bowl instead. "I – I know, but..."
"People get hurt." Her hands were retreating now, pulling back towards herself. He refused to follow.
"I know," he repeated, more firm in facts. "I know that, so that's why I – "
"Look at me," she said, and he couldn't say no, looking up into dyed skin as blue as his own eyes. "Here." A perfect, faintly-inky finger tapped at something above the tattoo. Skin much newer than the rest around it, paler, slightly raised. He remembered it being redder, before, and the memory of red clenched at his throat and turned his head away.
Nami's hand snaked out and grabbed at his chin and he didn't – couldn't – resist when she jerked it back towards the scar. "Look," she repeated and let the command sink into his head, didn't even seem to notice that some soup residue was getting on her fingers.
It was jagged, like lightning. Or maybe a barbed dart, but elongated. It curved slightly, disappearing down her back where he couldn't see, not that he would ask; Nami's position already looked pretty uncomfortable, twisted as she was. His eyes couldn't help but trail it in wonder, up and down, up and down, inclines so steep that no mountain climber could scale them.
"I got hurt. But I'm still here."
And he held in a breath as his eyes hardened itself against – not tears, no, shut up – and that soothing, soft voice brought to mind all the what-ifs and maybes that squeezed his heart and spurred his legs to be there, just be there before anything happened. Let none of them be there in place of him, never, never never never
"Sanji-kun. Your hands."
He released a breath and the grip that he didn't realize he had. There were imprints of his own fingernails deep in his palm, but he hadn't felt a thing, and if he looked away, there was absolutely no proof that anything had happened.
"I just," he said, his voice raw, and then stopped. It felt like someone was prying open his ribcage, but he couldn't let this go further. It was too personal, too private, too selfish.
"Finish," said Nami, and she didn't mean the soup.
His ribs snapped open like crab legs, leaving his heart bare for the world to see, and wasn't it lucky that only one person was here to witness it, and wasn't it unlucky that the person was Nami, and wasn't it the case that this situation was horribly twisted about, the roles all swapped? This shouldn't be happening at all, wasn't he the supporting pillar? But of course, he couldn't even stand and so the words spilled out anyways, sluggish and under his breath.
"I don't want it to happen. Not again."
If Nami was curious about that enigmatic wording, she didn't show it. Instead, she readjusted her shirt and swept another spoonful of soup into his mouth. "Then trust in us, you moron."
