1V: No happiness in this bit, sorry... It's just been that kind of day...

Masks

Pain is a relative thing, as are the masks that we adorn to hide it.

For Zoro pain is a simple concept, it came from battle. It was the blow that slipped past his defenses, the draw of a blade across his skin. It was when his blood was set free from his body, tinging the earth below the darkened hue of a rose. It was when he could barely stand after a fight that any lesser being would have died from. Pain is physical, so his masks were his scars.

For Sanji, pain was far less elementary. It was when he watched as the swordsman fought, and saw his opponent draw a hit. When Zoro's blood decorated the ground, and the blonde could do nothing to stop its flow. It was when the strongest man the cook had ever known was leaning against him for support after surviving a fight that would have claimed a lesser life. Pain was standing on the sidelines, watching as Zoro fought and knowing that the swordsman's mind no longer registered anything beyond the battlefield. Pain is intangible, and so he masked it in smoke.

V: To be completely honest I don't really care much for this short... but it's been rainy all day... plus I'm sick... and so here we are... Like I said, it's just been that kind of day...