A/N:

J_EnotsoLovely on Chapter 21Fri 30 Oct 2020 10:08AM PDT

I want you to know that this fic is the reason why I love Yubashiri.

He's my favorite of the 3 swords and its all your fault xDDD

It's not a prompt, but I realized I've been neglecting Yuki, so here.

Sanji Kitetsu Chapter 22

Zoro brushes a stray snowflake off the sheathe of Yubashiri in his lap, taking the time to examine the nicks and dents on its glossy finish for the first time since the sword came into his possession. This is the last of his three swords left untuned, although Kitetsu's tuning was a failure that needs a retry under better conditions. Hesitantly he closes his eyes, but a muffled scream snaps them open again.

He leans his back against the base of the castle wall behind him, trying hard not to let his breath be caught by the knot in his throat as the intermittent growls of pain drift down from a second floor window around the corner. Images of the marred blade in his lap floods his vision, with his own blood trickling down every one of the myriad of cracks, highlighting them in scarlet as evidence of his negligence.

His brows crease together as he recalls the transformation. The gripping rope on the hilt against his palm turned into silky strands of gold. The cold metal blade under his fingers gained the human warmth and vulnerability. Then each highlighted crack found its place on the perfection of the human form as an angry bruise or a bloody cut, each one a punishment for Zoro's transgressions, but inflicted onto his blade, with every ounce of pain intact. The first pained hiss as Kitetsu came to its, his, senses was when Zoro realized for the first time that his blade feels pain. The thought of it hasn't left the swordsman for a second since.

"Don't move. He dislocated his spine. He won't walk again if you move the wrong way."

The granny doctor's long list of the cursed blade's injuries echo in his ears, reminding him once again that the body he held in his lap minutes earlier was that of a human, with bones that can break, flesh that can tear, and blood that can be lost. The blond man's skin was pale and ghostly, and Zoro wonders how much of it was due to blood loss. How close was he to losing his life? Is it possible for a sword in human form to die? If it came to that, would the physical blade still exist as a memorial for his existence? Would it become one of the nameless voiceless blades that came before him? Or would it crumble into ashes?

Zoro is no stranger to the act of taking a life or risking his own. Anyone who dares to challenge him to a fight automatically agrees to putting their life on the line. But what about the swords? Zoro thinks back to the multitude of blades that he broke. Some were his, and many more belonged to his opponents. How many of them had a consciousness? A voice? A choice to be in a deadly match risking their own existence? Did they feel pain? Fear?

"Well you're a despicable piece of shit, and I hope you know that. He's a human being, you know! What did you DO to him?"

The doctor may have misunderstood his relationship with the blond, but maybe she's not too far off on her judgement of Zoro's character.

Master! Yuki's boyish voice pulls him from his self loathing.

"Sorry Yuki," he brushes away more snowflakes scattered over the sheathe, "looks like we'll have to try tuning some other time."

He wraps his free hand around the hilt, the same way he held Kitetsu's hilt earlier, and imagines ruffling the jet black hair of a young boy. The hilt is wet from melted snowflakes and gleams against the endless white background around them. He remembers cleaning the young sword for the first time, right after forcing the poor thing through a bloody first battle in Loguetown. Yuki was whimpering, frightened and incoherent.

"Do you still get scared of battles?"

Sometimes. The little one answers, and Zoro's heart sinks.

"You don't have to keep doing this if you don't want to. We'll figure something out. I can always get a new sword... or something."

No, please don't send me away! Battles are hard, but I'm starting to like them. I'm finally useful to someone! This was what I was born to do, right?

Zoro listens, unsure how to respond.

Please Master, I'm so happy that I became your sword! I'll become stronger. I won't be scared of battles anymore! I LOVE you, Master! Please let me stay!

The young blade's insistence brings an unwilling smile to Zoro's face. At last he lets out a sigh.

"Thanks buddy." he replies as he silently and solemnly accepts Yubashiri's pledge of loyalty.

Maybe this is what they mean when they say that tuning improves mutual understanding between a swordsman and his sword. It's meant for the swordsman to discover the blade's human nature, its vulnerability, its will, its emotions, all independent from the swordsman's own. It's meant for the swordsman to see his swords as partners and companions, instead of mere tools. And Zoro was too used to the fact that Kuina was once a human who now lives inside his blade that he missed all that even after tuning Wado.

It's been about half an hour since Zoro was kicked out of the castle, and the pained noises from the second floor window has stopped, replaced by the telepathic hisses of the cursed blade. Zoro reaches for Kitetsu's empty sheathe and Wado from where they lean against the castle wall, slides them back in place to his side along with Yubashiri, and makes his way back into the castle.

Time to get his blade.

A/N:

Sorry for all the gloom again, but Zoro's not done guilting yet. I figured he probably can't begin seeing Sanji as a human until he gets over this shock and his existential crisis as a swordsman here.