Rating: M
Summary: For his sister, Zoro has endured starvation and torture. A foul-mouthed chef shouldn't be a problem. Slight AU. Eventual Zoro x Sanji.
Author's Notes: More of this has been written, and should be posted within the week if not immediately. I just wanted to break the chapters up a bit for the sake of pacing. To cb O chan, I'm glad that you're enjoying the story so far. And Pamplemoose, thanks again for being delightfully awesome. I do hope I've managed to find the happy medium for the development of this story. Yours are hands down some of the best I've ever received. So, here's to you. ;3
Blood On the Water
4. Grasping Panic
Sanji sighed, the sound coming out far closer to a frustrated growl. Long, slender fingers ran through well-tended blonde locks as he checked his list for his next destination.
Unbe-fucking-lievable, this was.
He had stopped paying attention for five minutes—just five—to speak to a lovely lady, and the idiot rubberband boy they called a captain had decimated three months worth of food for three people.
Damn him and his damned rubber stomach.
Sanji paused, extracting his pack and tapping out another beautiful cylinder to place between his lips. This was all just too much stress to deal with.
It was like he was part of a long, slow journey to hell with the biggest idiots ever to sail the greater waters.
...But they were his idiots. His mind mollified his nerves as the first touch of nicotine gave him a sweet, smoky hello.
And then fizzled when he felt his burden grow suddenly lighter with a quick jerk.
His eyes snapped open—had he really closed them?—and took stock of a waif running top-speed away from him.
"Damn it! That's the second fucking time today! You—," He paused, casting comically sweet eyes at the nearest shop clerk, "I'll be back, ma'am, if you'd only watch these for a few moments?"
A vaguely frightened nod, and Sanji made good use of his long legs.
Of course he took off after the kid.
He wasn't about to let these damned monkeys get the better of him.
Chopper barely moved out of the war path as first a young kid and then Sanji himself barreled toward him.
He didn't need much more than Sanji's threatening hand motions to take up the chase as well.
Smart reindeer.
"This is fun!"
...Never mind.
Kuina ran until her chest burned and burned, threatening to rupture and ruin the contents of her ill-begotten prize.
Only then did she stop, and only then because her ankle turned and she fell unceremoniously to the ground, rolling with her momentum and protecting the bag of indigenous fruits with her body.
She knew she should get up and running, but right now, everything hurt.
"'ey, lad. Lookit whot y'got there. Fruits? ...Cute."
And the day took a turn for the worse.
Who else, but Johnny Two-Sides?
Yet again, he picked her up and made a play at dusting her off, his hands moving in ways that should rightly have netted him a broken nose.
She tried to move away, affecting a simple need for independence rather than crushing fear and disgust, but he would not let her move.
And then she noticed the others.
Funny.
For such a warm day, she felt strangely cold.
"'ey there, lad," a scraggly little man named Rat did his best to lilt, "Airn't ya'little far from big brother?"
His eyes swept her up and down.
No attempt made at secrecy.
And the rest were doing the same.
Her stomach settled into that grossly familiar state of tangles.
Shit.
Johnny Two-Sides ran one hand down to grip her hip, the other taking a firm hold of her upper arm before pulling her forward, flipping her around mid-action so his pelvis pressed crudely against her backside.
Fuck.
"Say, lad. We've been meanin' to get better acquainted. An' now 'at yer brother ain't feelin' so good...what's th' harm, ey?"
"What's the harm? What the hell? Get off of me!" She struggled, but his grip shifted to her clothes. She tensed as hot, acrid breath gusted by her ear, one arm headed to brush what the man assumed to be a flat chest, "Come, boy, we'll be right nice to ya, if ya play along. Ya might even enjoy it."
—boy!—
No female shall set foot aboard a pirate's ship. To secret a woman or girl-child aboard is to condemn both parties to death.
...Or worse.
"No! Not with you! Get off of me! Get—"
It was during this struggle, as she threw herself here and there, trying to break out of the hold, that her shirt snagged and ripped.
Dead, dead, dead for a ducket.
A/N: The next chapter is already typed, again, I just wanted a bit of a break between chapters. I hope all of you are enjoying the story so far, and that you're all as excited as I am for the Strawhats drawing nigh. :) I might be asking for a few ideas later on, as Alternate Universe and Has Not Seen the Whole Series make plotting 100% pretty challenging.
Hasta, amigos y amigas!