"Get up, shit cook." Sanji opened his eyes, groaning and turning to face Zoro.
"What?"
"Get up. Has your brain rotted?"
"Says the marimo head." Sanji lifted himself up into a sitting position. "Oh, not bad. Have you worked as a maid before?" The apartment was surprisingly clean, with the dust and fragments cleared away. The only things left were the gaping hole in the wall and the ruined furniture.
"Fuck you."
"It's a compliment, marimo-chwan."
"What the fuck was that nickname?" Zoro shivered.
"A super cute one."
"Well, either way, I'm kicked out of this apartment because you fucking caused this mess."
"Me?" Sanji sputtered. "I didn't slice everything here! If you let me in, nothing would have been broken!"
"Liar."
"Whatever. You got everything packed?"
"Yup."
"Good. Let's leave this shithole for good."
"Where to?"
"My place."
Sanji opened the door to his bedroom and pulled the covers back, ready to dive into his plush bed.
"It's my bed!" Sanji gasped, scandalised. He glared at the offending hunk of meat.
"So?" Zoro groaned, squeezing his eyes shut. "Go sleep on the couch like a good host."
"Get out!" Sanji tried to roll Zoro off, but to no avail. The guy was like a rock of immovable muscle. "Don't make me kick you," he warned. The swordsman grinned, cracking open an eye.
"Try it."
"Ok, fuck this," Sanji groaned. He rolled up a blanket and placed it in the middle of the bed. "You're on this side and I get this side. Nothing over this line or I'll chop it off."
"With?" Zoro asked sceptically.
"Did I tell you I sleep with my knives under my pillow?" Sanji suggested innocently. The swordsman snorted. "Remember, not a finger over the line."
Click.
It was night, thankfully. The day had been excruciatingly slow. No one went outside, and if they did, they hustled past in a bundle of thick jumpers, scarves and beanies, barely sparing the boy in the corner a glance.
Sanji lay huddled on the concrete, wrapping his arms and legs around himself in an effort to keep warm. Everything was cold. Unfeeling. Numb like his face, his body and his feelings. He looked like the snow had stolen the blue from his eyes, the red from his lips and the yellow from his hair, making him a dull colourless blob of a human being.
Everything was pale and he hated it.
Sanji wanted to be away from this place. He wanted a place with sand and sun, where heat would constantly surround him. He wanted to hear cicadas chirping and see flowers bloom.
It wasn't going to happen here.
Here, everything was white.
"Hey, little brat. What the fuck are you hanging around here for? There's nothing here." A figure approached him, large grin leering in the dim light.
"It's none of your business." Sanji curled himself into a tighter ball, glaring at the person. He caught a glimpse of a strange tattoo on the man's forearm, sort of like the sun.
A foot lashed out at his stomach. He rolled, coughing up bile.
"Get away!" the man roared. "Scum like you don't belong here!" Sanji stood up, trembling. He turned and fled. A man like shouldn't have the sun on him if he brought misery to others.
Sanji lay on the floor, a clatter of broken crockery in front of him, staining the carpet.
"You incompetent weakling!" A sharp hook took Sanji in the face, showering the carpet with blood. A man with pink hair cracked his knuckles. "Look where you're going! Stupid kid! A little waiter dares to bump into me?"
"I'm sorry sir." Sanji bowed his head, crawling to pick up the scattered pieces. He grunted as the man kicked him in the behind and scrambled away, breathing heavily.
"If you do it again next time, I won't be so forgiving!"
Sanji hated those iron shackled fists. Every time he saw those grubby fingers encrusted with thick rings and blood and iron, he wanted to puke. He'd never dirty his hands like that. He'd keep them clean.
"What?" Sanji stumbled backwards, legs giving out from under him. Blood pooled beneath the man opposite him.
"No big deal, kid." The man clutched his leg.
"No… big deal?"
"It's only a flesh wound."
"What kind of flesh wound is this? You'll die!"
"I won't die." The man snickered.
"Why?" Why me? Why would you save a no name kid?
"You want to cook, brat?" The man grinned. "I'll make you the best chef in the world."
"How the hell," Sanji shouted at the unconscious old man. "Could you be the best chef in the world if you're dying? Tell me! Tell me!"
"Sir, please calm down," A nurse opened the door, a mask of frightened concern.
"Don't tell me what to do!"
"Look, kiddo, he'll be fine-" A couple of buff guys came in and took Sanji in a secure grip.
"No, he won't! Don't lie to me! I know his condition! He's been out for nearly three months! How do you expect me to believe he's going to wake up?"
A continuous beep cut through the yelling. Sanji stopped, mind and body freezing.
No. NO. NO!
"Zeff!" he screamed. "Don't you dare die on me! What about our promise?"
"Take him out!" A team of doctors stormed in the room.
"No! Fuck you all!" Sanji wrestled free, kicking aside the guards and running to the old man. "Zeff," he sobbed. "You can't die here. What did you say you'd make me? You'd make me the best chef in the wor-" The old man woke, eyes snapping open. He gripped Sanji's wrist, squeezing it.
"I'd make you into the best dish of the world's greatest chef." He grinned, blood dripping from his teeth, dribbling over his chin. The bones in Sanji's wrist snapped. He screamed.
Sanji gasped, sitting straight up in bed. He felt his hands. They were ok. Things were fine. It was a nightmare. It wasn't real. He breathed out, slowly, calming his thudding heart, trying to stop his trembling. He sank back onto his pillow and pulled up his covers.
"What's up, shit cook?" Sanji flinched. Why the hell was Zoro awake?
"Shut up." He didn't like how his voice wavered. He turned his back to Zoro and curled into a tight ball.
"You didn't wake me. I'm always like this."
"Like what?"
"I can't sleep for long."
"So how long do you sleep altogether?"
"Three hours, plus naps."
"What the fuck?"
"It's doable." They fell into silence again.
"Why?" Sanji asked. He could sense Zoro's hesitation.
"Because… I guess the same reason you woke up."
"It doesn't happen usually."
"Really." Sanji couldn't tell if Zoro was sceptical or envious.
"What are yours about?"
"I think you know." Kuina. Swordsmanship.
"Don't they get … repetitive?"
"No."
"Really? But you've been-"
"They've been getting stranger." Sanji paused. He knew Zoro would never admit his weakness so bluntly. He sighed, a faint smile touching his lips. That idiot marimo is finally getting around to trusting him.
"Tell me."
"Fuck you."
"Tell me." A loud snort dissipated into the night air. Sanji could sense Zoro's brain working, mechanically clicking away as he pieced together his weird dream.
"So, it starts off with me being in a big city. I'm meant to go to this dojo, for some reason, I forgot, and I have this map. I'm walking around, looking and taking the right streets and just when I'm about to turn the bend, where the dojo should be, it isn't and when I look back down on the map, it fucking changed places. You know I was meant to be there by three, but it was already seven." Sanji laughed, sniggering into his pillow. "And the worst part wasn't even that. It was when I went to head back home, my sword was missing."
"Which one?"
"The white one. Wado Ichimonji."
"I try to find it, but the stupid map just keeps changing. I'm walking around in circles with no hope of finding it."
"Until?"
Silence answered him.
"What?" Sanji rolled over the blanket line to jog Zoro with his elbow. "Was I the hero?"
"Shove off." Zoro pushed Sanji back to his side. "You rocked up, in a ridiculous fucking pink flower shirt and-"
"Hey, I'd look damn fucking fine in a pink flower shirt."
"Shut up. Anyway, you just turn my map upside down and laugh at me for reading it wrong the whole time!"
"What?" Sanji sputtered with laughter, giggling and thrashing about in the covers. "What kind of dream was that?"
"I'm not finished. So after you turn the map upside down, the 'right way', you lead the way to my sword, where some shady old geezer was holding it, saying he was polishing it or something. I can do that shit by myself. He charged me money!"
"That's so stupid!"
"Shut up! You asked for it!" Sanji gasped for breath, clutching his sides.
"So… fucking… stupid!" he hooted.
"Shut up!" Zoro sat up, grabbed his pillow and beat Sanji on the head. He pounded the pillow between his words. "Tell-" Whack. "Me-" Whack. "Yours!" Whack.
"Okay! Okay!" Sanji swiped aside the pillow, sitting up and wrapping the covers around himself. "It was a bunch of them. The first one was…" He stopped. "It was…" He stopped again, words catching in his throat.
"Hey." Zoro snapped his fingers in front of Sanji's face. "You don't need to. Just sleep."
"But-"
"Ah, shut up! I'm tired and you're taking too long with the story." Zoro lay down on the bed and turned his back to Sanji. The blonde stared at Zoro's form for a little while in the dark. It was relieving, somehow. They had this unspoken mutual agreement to no invade each other's space or privacy but all the same, letting each other in on little secrets they told no one else. He snuggled down on his pillow again and frowned into the dark. It was true when Sanji said he hadn't brought up his past in a long time. Luffy was the first, but history never meant much to him. Something told him that Zoro, of all people, would understand.
The old man always waved off any form of apology, content with honing his already proficient chef skills but Sanji remembered walking past the kitchen and hearing irregular footsteps, the thudding and swivelling of foot and peg, as if Zeff was lifting his legs and trying to kick with his old power. The blonde didn't dare to peek, so stiff and dry mouthed he would make his way as quietly as possible past.
It was terrifying. Maybe it was because Sanji was a coward. Maybe because Sanji never brought it up. He has convinced himself he was gracious and not bring up any painful memories. He had run away from it and still does to this day. He snorted, mouth twisting into a wry smile. The irony of telling Zoro off. Perhaps it was because Sanji was doing it that he understood Zoro more than anyone else can.