Whew, what a tiring week it has been!

I was planning to finish and update with this chapter yesterday, but I didn't finish it on time so now I feel guilty ):

Hope you like this chapter; where things start falling in to place!

Thank you for the reviews once again~ It's great to see you guys are getting the feel of the story xD

Sanji's lashes fluttered fleetingly as he awoke with a start. God, his neck hurt. He reached back and massaged it, twisting his head from side to side as he heard mauled sounds of cracking coming from his tired bones. Thin rays of sunlight were just cutting through the grey dawn clouds outside the window, blocking the horizon from the visible eye. Looking aside to where the hospital bed was, he saw the green-haired figure curled up under pristine white sheets, protective, so that his face was obscured. Ah, that's right. He'd stayed with the marimo the whole night and fell asleep on the chair...

"Please... please... don't tell Robin. I can't..."

The blind man's words echoed through his ears as Sanji sat in a stunned silence. Zoro... a child assassin. He couldn't fully feel the past sink in to his skin. He could only think; 'no wonder... no wonder...!'. And yet he still didn't understand why the man was blind.

He felt his frame shivering. Did he feel fear? Now that he knew what Zoro was like? Now that he realised, that the patient he'd regarded as a friend continued killing; even after being told his victims were truly dead? No. Rather, he felt guilt. He couldn't quite grasp why he felt guilt. In his unconsciousness, he was troubled by the thought that such a thing could happen to others. Why not... him? Why Zoro? He wanted to protect him with those pale hands of his, stomp on that man until his mouth sunk back in to his head... so he could never speak again...

With a shaking hand, he reached out and fumbled for Zoro's. Under watery moonlight, Sanji could see the patient was pressing the heels of his palms in to the dips of his eyes, teeth pressed together as if trying to hold back a scream of agony. Instead, the blonde tentatively touched the man's arm. A quiet choke slipped from Zoro's lips. "It's OK... It's fine, we'll all be fine. We can find him, you idiot. We will." He said with uncalled-for fondness.

"Don't... It's not safe..."

"Trust me. Who do you think I am? I can fight and be on par with you, without even going all out!" Sanji smiled in assurance.

"I... urgh..."

"Hey, you alright, marimo? You ought to rest... You need it."

In a motherly fashion, Sanji ran his hands through Zoro's choppy green hair. It was soft, like moss, ironically. He stroked at the smoothly uneven texture, soothing Zoro, soothing himself. His heart felt as if it was shattering, watching the man before him; broken, spiralling down in his darkness... alone. He wanted to give him everything, make up for all things happened to him. Give him the love he deserved, that he never received.

The patient gave a cracked sigh, and sank in to his covers. "Dammit, shitty chef... Fucking dammit..."

Zoro must be tired, Sanji thought to himself, as the nights' events reformed within his mind. Tired of all that shit he had to go through. He exhaled heavily, and ran a hand over the blanket tucked tightly around the blind man, along his strong back. He only wished for his well being now. Not for a fight, not even for a conversation... as long as Zoro could be cured of his trauma, the leech sucking the life out of him. His eyes widened as he suddenly remembered their conversation. '"Sadness counts too. Tell me what you're thinking," Sanji whispered. "Zoro."'

He had called Zoro by his name. For once. For that one moment."Zoro..." he mumbled to himself, and felt a carnation pink flush seep in to his cheeks. The word, name, on his tongue felt like a hard boiled sweet; in the way of his beautifully straight teeth, sugary temptation melting in his mouth as he rolled it around, over and over, trying for the taste on each side.

A feathery knock on the door startled Sanji. He flicked his gaze over to the door, to see an early-morning Robin peeping in. Robin! His angel! He jumped to his feet, an idiotic grin growing on his face. "Robin-chwan! Good morning; how was your night?"

The psychologist simply smiled in her mysterious fashion and held a finger to her lips, signalling for the blonde to lower his excited volume. Sanji visibly shrunk back in to his shoulders, ashamed. "How was he last night?" The woman whispered. "He usually wakes up early on his own, and so when I come in to take him training he is up already. How odd, to see him still asleep at such a time." She chuckled fondly.

"He... had a tiring night." Sanji rubbed his neck thoughtfully. He'd keep Zoro's words close at heart, if it was what the man wished. If it was his way of watching over others. Yet Sanji had a nagging sensation telling him that Robin would one day need to know. How hauntingly special he felt, being told by Zoro himself about his past before the gorgeous psychologist knew. Him, Sanji, first. He couldn't help but feel guilty pride. Him, of all people.

Robin said nothing to this, and just looks to Zoro's sleeping body almost sadly, folding her arms across her busty chest. "If, by any chance," She drums her fingers on her arm. "Zoro was to tell you something about himself, his past... I'd like for you to tell me, please." It wasn't because she was nosy. She needn't know for her own personal use. She, like Sanji, wanted to hunt down whoever had hurt the man that to her was like the son she never had. Her love for him was the love of a parent and friend, one who cared about each minuscule detail and his happiness. But she also needed to know if anyone else held knowledge of such information...

Nodding in understanding, Sanji, however, does not tell Robin about his night. He would listen to the pleads of the subdued patient.

Sanji sat a while longer after the psychologist left. The chef had ceased looking at his phone's watch a long time ago now, leaving it and his kitchen duties in the back of his head. He loved his job for sure; he loved the exhilarating heat flaming against his hot forehead and skin slick with the sweat produced from the fruits of his labour, exotic scents filling his nose as they fused to create heaven upon a dish... but he wanted to wait until Zoro woke up. He felt like a bedraggled wife awaiting her husband to rouse from the effects of anaesthetics from a surgery. The sun had risen now, saturating vivid russet browns, yellow golds and wine reds in their richest hues under its' glow. Autumn was coming fast. It all seemed so perfect, too perfect. Just waiting for something to happen.

"Urgh..."

Sanji whipped around from the window to see Zoro propping himself up on his pillow. He unconsciously ran over, letting his feet take him where his mind refused to cooperate at the sight of the - he'd just started to notice - masculinely handsome man. The blind man's head jerked in his direction. "... The fuck are you doing here..."

The chef reeled back mid-step. "Excuse me? Am I not allowed in your room, shitty marimo?" His lip curled in irritation, giving him a face of disgust.

"No."

"Fuck you."

"No thanks."

It took a while for the blonde to understand what the patient meant by "No thanks". He blushed deeply. It angered him more that he felt himself reacting in such a way at the thought of performing acts of intimacy with the bitchy moss head rather than at the brash comment, causing him to redden more.

"SHUT UP!" He shrieked, glad the blind man couldn't see his face, or he'd be up for teasing. Zoro smirks and lets his head hang loose. Sanji watches, petting his own cheeks in hope of getting rid of the burning warmth.

"Oi, about last night..." Zoro began, picking at the sheets like they were the strings of a guitar.

"I won't tell anyone," The blonde cut in. He shoved his hands in to his pockets. "But you need to let Robin know."

Looking at the green haired man expectantly, Sanji studied his expression. Zoro pressed his lips together, forming a thin, hard line, and scrunched up the bed sheets like paper, releasing and gripping in an agitated pattern. He stayed silent, not wanting to admit it was true. Yet it was one of those things he'd pondered for a long time already; whether or not to tell the psychologist.

Sanji huffed, and turned on a dress-shoed heel. It would be useless to try push Zoro any further. "Trust us. See you at lunch, or breakfast, if you're staying." He said, and left.

As suspected, Zoro and Robin had vanished by the time he'd returned for serving breakfast. They were, however, there for lunch, and now Sanji sat in Zoro's ward once again, watching the blind man eat. The blonde felt as though he was in a dream. They had once again been reduced to their silence, but today there was an edge to it. Tension's daggers were hovering over the two ever since Sanji had told the patient he needed to tell the psychologist. They were both waiting, anticipating the moment where either one of them would say something, anything to break the apprehension. What were they afraid of? What would they say? That the patient would snap, that there was nothing to say about the chef's comment?

A light knock caused the two to twitch as it severed their fragile soundlessness. In an instant, the elegant psychologist was in the room, and to his surprise, ushering Sanji out. "R-Robin-chwan?!" He squealed as he was nudged out the door, frantically glancing back and forth from the woman to Zoro. Robin smiled reassuringly - a delicate smile, her eyes shining in the sunlight coming from the window behind - and Sanji dissolved in to putty in her hands. "I'm sorry, I need to speak to Zoro. Forgive me, Sanji." With a final coax, the poor man was out and with the door shut in his alarmed face.

Zoro listened with a perturbed expression settled on his features as the psychologist closed the door behind the chef. What now? He couldn't think of anything he had done that caused any sort of trouble - not recently, at least. The last time was when he'd socked a doctor in the jaw for trying to force his bandages off him. He'd given him an almighty jab along with it as a souvenir. Personally, Zoro thought he deserved it.

"How was last night, Zoro?" Robin's soft voice drew him away from his recollections.

"Fine." He grumbled, somewhat thankful that she'd broken through his and Sanji's tension.

The light clacking of heels growing louder told him that she was getting closer. They stopped beside him, and he heard her sit with a muted thud, her cotton-light scent wafting around them. "I heard you had a 'tiring' night from a different source though." She pressed on. "Is there something you need to tell me about?"

That damned cook. Zoro flicked his large-knuckled fingers irritably. What should he say? It was undeniable that Robin really ought to know. But how else could he protect them, the people here that he regarded as family? Sanji's voice resounded in his mind. "Trust us." Yes, he trusted them. It wasn't that he didn't. He trusted them with his body so much that he'd let Chopper or Robin take a hundred blood samples from him as long as they knew what they were doing. He only wanted them... safe.

It was like Sanji had said. Robin needed to know. She and the others... they had done so much for him; giving him food and water, healing him, placing a roof over his unworthy head. It was about time he let them know who he truly was. That they had been keeping a demon within their vicinity for so long. A demon... now with a heart that beat stronger for a princess of a chef than any other.

With words that felt as if they didn't quite fit together, Zoro stumbled out the shell he'd so tightly encased himself in for the last thirteen months of his life he'd been in the hospital, finally revealing his story to the psychologist.

Still outside the ward, Sanji was leaning against the wall just beside the crack between door and frame. He couldn't hear a word, but in his heart, he knew what was being spoken of. Smiling to himself, he pushed off the wall that divided him and Zoro in to two spaces meant as one, and headed back to the kitchen to help wash the dishes.

Sanji walked to the door of the hospital, humming softly to himself. Terracotta had been pleased with his cooking and how well he had been getting along with the other patients. He couldn't help but absorb the praise with pride, yet feel his face heat up shyly. He was a modest person - modest, but confident.

"Sanji,"

The blonde turned to see the psychologist right behind him. He felt an odd shiver chase down his arms. When had she gotten there?! Up close, she was quite imposing; towering over him with an approximate ten centimetre difference, her Prussian-blue eyes large and looking down at him as if in judgement of his every move. He felt as if every cell in his body had frozen in to frosty flakes as she places a foreboding hand on his shoulder. "Why didn't you tell me? About Zoro?" She said quietly, chillingly retaining her gentle smile.

"A-ah, about t-that... ahaha... I promised Zoro I wouldn't tell..." The chef laughed shakily. What on earth was this feeling he was getting from Robin? He'd sworn she was a mild, sweet angel... at least, he thought.

Robin sighed and combed her slender fingers through her hair. "Sanji... I asked not for the information, but rather for your safety."

Sanji's eyes widened. Safety?

"You already know about Zoro, so I believe you ought to know why you need to be more aware of the things around you now. Tonight at 9:30, please meet me at the Rumbar bar, just off the north pier. I will show you, along with an accomplice of mine." She said quietly, so only he could hear her. Another shiver danced along Sanji's skin in a complicated ballet suite, his hairs raising. Something was going on. Even Robin's milky white face was ashen in foreshadowing of the information to come.

He nodded, understanding the gravity of her words. He could feel it - not just from the intense prickles in his skin, but also in his warily beating heart. "I'll take an early leave from the Baratie tonight. I'll try my best not to be late, Robin-chwan."

"Thank you, Sanji." The psychologist brushed her hair over a shoulder, gazing off in to the distance as if lost. "Thank you."

"Mademoiselle, your lobster bisque?"

"Oh, thank you! That looks wonderful!"

"Of course; the finest lobster meat just for you, my dear."

The woman's husband glared angrily at Sanji in seething silence as the chef placed the bowl of soup before her, fluttering his golden lashes provocatively. "May you have a most wonderful dinner tonight, mademoiselle." He lifted her delicate hand, bejewelled with lavish gems on shining silver rings and bangles, and brushed his lips atop her skin of petals. Her cheeks shone in embarrassment as Sanji raised his head, aureate hair enticingly shadowing his well-featured face by the light of the table candles, ornate as her bijouterie.

He walked away, spinning the cocoa-brown tray on his finger, proud he'd found such an elegant lady. There were many diners tonight, the brightly lit restaurant crowding with more and more high-class families looking for a seat, bustling waiters and their abusively rude chefs. The sounds of merry chattering filled the hall like carols as Sanji wafted from table to table, serving with his elegant flair. However, there was one table he couldn't help but continuously glimpse over to, questioning.

There was an ominously dressed pair sat inconspicuously in the far corner of the restaurant, still wearing their heavy black coats lined with fur; one, pallid and flimsy under the bulky jacket, had curled snow-blonde hair, his large nose protruding rather threateningly out from the wisps. The other was the opposite, heavily built with the coat doing nothing but accentuating his size. His frizzy violet hair rested solidly on his back as he leant back into the Baratie's plush chairs, thrones for all who entered.

They were an odd pair, they were, but no one seemed to notice them, carrying on with their rich men's talk and tittering at lavish stories of their personal lush wineries and excelling companies. "Maybe they're from out of town..." Sanji thought wistfully, his dreams of the adventures in All Blue dusting across his unsettled mind. Maybe one day, after he'd opened his own restaurant, he could go travel and see the world...

At exactly 9:30PM, Sanji slipped through the doors of the Rumbar bar, as promised, for his rendezvous with Robin. It was a quiet bar, juxtaposing the hustle bustle of the Baratie that night. The lights were turned down dim, casting alluring shadows along the lengths of the traditional wooden floor planks, only a rare few businessmen whispering as they discussed projects. A magnificent grand piano was illuminated on a raised platform as an excruciatingly tall man with an explosive afro soundly played a relaxing song on it, his bony white fingers soaring over the keys.

The barman, a fully grown man who's face had the naïvety of a child's with many a dozen scars scratched along his forehead and cheekbones, smiled welcomingly at Sanji as he made his way across the bar. "A drink, sir?" the barman asked. 'Laboon', his name tag read.

"Any Merlot?"

"How does Partager sound?"

"One glass."

"Coming right up, sir!"

He took the glass of wine and sipped it aristocratically, letting the fruity taste blanket his tongue. "I'll put that on your tab, sir." Laboon smiled, polishing a champagne flute.

In a secluded spot veiled in darkness where the hazy lighting didn't quite reach, Robin's arm waved out at him and he grinned, making his way through chairs here and there. There was a man sitting with her, Sanji noticed. He couldn't quite put his finger on who, but he felt like he knew them. And here he thought he'd finally get some alone time with Robin... He stopped at the table, and his jaw dropped, as did the other man's.

"ACE?"

"SANJI? YOU'RE THAT GUY?"

A slightly baffled Robin looked from one man to the other. "You two know each other already? Perfect. No need for introductions." The men eyed each other out in shock as the blonde slid in to a seat beside the psychologist, slipping his glass on the table beside a barbarically huge bottle of beer that was half empty. Ace's, of course. What the hell was Ace doing here anyways, with Robin? How did they know each other?

"Sanji, Ace is a friend of mine doing detective work who is helping me find out about Zoro's past. About his job, you must presumably know already, yes?" Robin chuckled as the chef shot an angry glare of 'you-didn't-tell-me-that-you-bastard' at Ace who stared at the floor evasively, then back at him, eyes dark and serious, boring holes in Sanji's mind.

"I'm surprised you found out so much about Zoro despite having nothing to do him," Ace said, folding his arms over and leaning against the table with them, bringing the other two closer to him. "First of all, let me tell you about a village massacre that happened eleven years ago.

"This village, Shimotsuki Village, once held a hundred and ten people. Unbeknownst to them, below their cosy village was a vast pool of oil, snuggled up deep underground. One night, the entire village was slaughtered, dragged out on the streets and their houses burned, with only the fuzzy evidence of a man in a black coat walking away in to the distance... and apparently, a few dark days later, an infamous mob moved in, turning the ghost village in to an oil farm."

Sanji shivered. He knew this was just the beginning, but he felt as if General Winter had slipped through the walls and was now massaging his shoulders with icicle hands as his dread grew. It wasn't even the season of winter. "That's... terrifying..." He whispered. "But... Zoro...?" He couldn't see how the village massacre was connected to the blind man. Was it him, who did this all?

"Quite a few months ago, I met Zoro." Robin spoke this time. "When I first found him, he was at a pier. I watched from a distance as he, badly injured with his shirt almost soaked with blood... no doubt not only his... slowly pulled himself across a boardwalk from a dingy boat.

"I was stunned. I didn't know why he did not simply stand and walk across. I was just on my way home from work, so having nothing to do, I hid behind a building as he felt his way along the boardwalk. When he made it on to land, once again he just pulled himself along the floor... I wondered if his legs were hurt, but I saw them help push him along. At one moment, he turned his head, and I saw his eyes were closed. I then figured... he was blind.

"As a psychologist, a doctor... I couldn't bear it anymore. A sightless man struggling for safety. I couldn't just look away. I ran up to him, and noticed he had a haramaki around his stomach, securing three swords to his side. He was dangerous, but I needed to take him somewhere safe. Luckily we weren't too far off from the hospital, so I carried him through the rain, back where Chopper treated him for me. After a bit of a struggle, he realised it was better to stay in the hospital. I guess he gradually came to trust me after I returned his swords... and we fell in to routine where I'd take him to my villa so he could train with them.

"That night, as I took Zoro back to the hospital, I took note of the name of the small vessel, the time it was and the date. I was curious, and as I knew Ace from how he had to constantly bring his little brother to the hospital for getting in to fights, I requested his help in the investigation. We searched through reports of boats that docked at the pier that day under the name of 'Yami', and traced back on its' path. It lead us back to Shimotsuki village... the now oil farm... and also the mob's headquarters. They were known to be highly powerful, so strong that even the police force and marines could not move them.

"We went on to look for files on the mob, wondering if that man was really connected to the mob. It was difficult; their name was unknown, and we were starting to head too deep in to the private files. However, Ace managed to get his hands on other cases suspected to be of this mob... Cases where households and, rarely, small villages were murdered, robbed of their money, but with their children's bodies missing. Suspected kidnapping - for slavery. Like Zoro... kidnapped, to be used."

Sanji stared in horror at the beautiful woman as she looked to him expectantly, waiting for the words to sink in, for him to connect the stories... with Zoro's past. Could it be? Could it just be? That Shimotsuki was Zoro's village - burned down with every civilian dead? That the man who kidnapped Zoro... was really part of the mob, ridding the village so they could get the oil beneath? Took the green-haired boy to use as a slave... a child assassin?! The bits and pieces were suddenly starting to fit together like a bloody mess of a jigsaw. A disgusting, warped jigsaw played in the hands of that man and the gang. But they had no true, solid proof. Not until Zoro was willing to confirm their predictions for them.

"But Robin-chwan... Wasn't the entire village of Shimotsuki... wiped out?" He asked faintly. How could everyone be murdered, but with the attention-grabbing green haired boy left alive?

"Yeah," said Ace, butting in. "That's what the records say. Yet there was a rumour surrounding that village that there was a small, green haired boy who was long forgotten, having been teased so much by his own village about his strange hair that he became known as 'demon child'. It went so far, so bad, that his parents were forced to hide him away, and he was soon a thing of the past. People thought he had died. Sound familiar, Sanji?"

Zoro's tale of his past whirled through his mind as he felt his heart sink, drowning in fear. 'He was surrounded by people, But they lay face down in the filthy ground all around him. They didn't even lift their heads to point and laugh at his unusual hair colour, call him 'demon child'.' Sanji clamped a hand over his mouth as he felt his stomach lurch, sweat starting to form on the bridge of his nose. His head pounded mercilessly as he took sharp breaths, his eyes dilated in pure terror. Zoro... the sole survivor because of the discrimination against him... but taken in to a living hell.