A LITTLE BIT MORE
Chapter Seven
Camping in the wild somehow strangled Sanji's normal need for sleep, forcing him for some unconscious paranoid reason to wake up first. Perhaps it was something the land-locked air did to him, or perhaps it was just a psychological throwback, but whatever it was, he always seemed to wake up fairly early; early enough to start the day far ahead of anyone else, at least. His clothes were still damp when he pulled them on, and he sighed at his sudden aversion to how uncomfortable they felt. He resolved to spend most of the day naked or submerged if he had to, just to sun-dry his clothes to the point where they didn't stick to his body and chaff his skin. Pulling a face, he tugged the cuffs of his pants into mid-calf rolls. He simply didn't want to handle the wet fabric flapping against his ankles as he walked.
The first rays of sunlight were peeking through the flaps of the tent, and he smiled at the day's possibilities. First, of course, he was starving. Maybe they had been absent the evening before, but he and Zoro would be more than forgiven if Luffy and the others woke up to a delicious breakfast at the ready.
He deftly maneuvered around the sleeping bodies of his nakama, taking a longer glance that usual at Zoro's disheveled, less-than-appealing, but somehow heartwarming face. He lifted the flap of the tent and ducked into the sunshine, a cigarette between his fingers before he was even two feet outside.
He cupped his hands and struck a match, glancing over at the canopy of fog hanging just above the surface of the lake. It was peaceful, beautiful, but for some reason he wasn't so thrilled by the view. Something was making his skin crawl, disturbing everything about the atmosphere. Suddenly he felt like Nami, with her preternatural senses and her way of ruining the most splendid moments.
A sneer stretched his lips, and he looked around, finding immediately what had tickled his discomfort.
"So you're what I heard last night." Sanji said calmly, smoke billowing out through his nose as he tried to fight off the instincts of fear and defense in his mind.
The stranger crouched next to their camp looked harmless enough, at a distance – but then, Sanji remembered, so did most of his own crew. Small stature, unassuming dress, armed only with a longsword balanced across the top of his knees. His glare, though, his presence, was enough to warn Sanji with daunting clarity that this was no simple islander.
"I was beginning to think no one would notice, so I decided to make my presence clear." The intruder spoke, suddenly rising to his full height. He held the sheathed sword to his side, and thrusted it jauntily from his hip like a dandy with a walking stick. Sanji was impressed with his style, though not particularly taken by his obvious arrogance.
With a coolness that betrayed his racing thoughts, he plucked the cigarette from between his lips and blew an impromptu series of smoke rings in the stranger's direction. "You from around here?"
As if his appearance suggested that he wasn't. Though his dark hair was unevenly cut just below his ears, obviously a self-inflicted barber job, the stranger managed to retain the flair of a castaway, a willing survivor, one of those rugged wilderness types that Sanji had never understood nor admired.
He smirked and shook his head, glancing down at the sandy shore of the lake. "There's a man among your party," he spoke very smoothly, very deliberately, obviously not a native speaker of the language but skilled nonetheless, "I wish to speak to Roronoa Zoro."
Immediately, Sanji's nostrils flared and his blood pressure soared, though outwardly he still managed to exude some affectation of calm. "What business could you possibly have with Zoro?"
"I simply noticed this," one of his darkly-tinged, impeccable arms lifted, and Sanji's face blanched as he noticed that the stranger was holding Zoro's only remaining katana, "and thought we might have a few things to discuss."
Unable to stomach the sudden rage, Sanji clenched his fists, and gnawed on the tip of his cigarette. "What are you doing with that? How did you get it?"
The stranger scoffed, and lowered his eyes again. He was too cold, too effusively condescending. Sanji despised his type. "First I believe I should introduce myself. My name is Armerind. No surname, no family. Simply Armerind."
"Tsch," Sanji puffed with a growl, "I've never heard of you."
"Oh, I doubt you have," he lowered the white katana and concealed it behind his back once more, "no one has, for about twenty years now. And back then, I was only a child." He smiled with some deeper self-assurance.
When Sanji didn't respond, Armerind went on. "I've been living on Betoni Island for two decades. Just my luck that your crew would wander into my territory at the very time I decided to wake from my sleep. Proverbially."
He spoke in prose. Sanji despised that, as well. "What the hell are you talking about?"
Armerind looked over, locked eyes with him through the loose-hanging curls of his hair, and smirked. "I'm just a swordsman, nothing more. A scholar, perhaps, but that's only secondary. Regardless of my history and my specific reasons, I'm more than interested to meet with Roronoa Zoro. If you would, please, fetch him?"
Sanji's eyes grew wide and he felt suddenly assaulted, his brain reacting to the thinly veiled insult, the demeaning tone in Armerind's voice. "You little shit," he snarled, disposing of his cigarette before moving into an agile crouch. As he thrust forward, aiming his leg at Armerind's ribcage, he heard the other man laugh at his attempt.
I hate him, Sanji knew, and he let the thought cloud his mind. His adrenalin rushed, his kick swept out with full force, but suddenly he felt himself stop, all his ballistic energy focusing on the base of his kneecap, ending with a deafening "crack". The pain was incomparable, and he only glimpsed the sight of Armerind holding the scabbard of his longsword, bracing it like a staff against his leg. Once he saw this, he was already collapsing to the ground. Armerind seemed completely unfettered, as if the attack had been no more intrusive than the attempts of a pesky mosquito.
How....how was he so fast? He thought to himself, grimacing in agony, feeling as if his leg had been severed at the knee. And why so much pain? I shouldn't be....feeling so much pain...
"I only sprained the tendons below your kneecap," Armerind mumbled softly, poignantly, as he attached the longsword to a sling around his waist, "it's going to hurt like hell, but there shouldn't be any lasting damage. You're not worth any lasting damage."
Silently, he stepped over Sanji, who growled beyond his wheezing breath, "Zoro's only going to kill you."
"He's your lover, isn't he?" Armerind suddenly asked, the question hitting Sanji like a jab to his gullet. Breathless, he glared up at the stranger, cursing him in his mind. "Ah, I see, so it's an incognito thing. That's all right, you won't have to worry about your nakama hearing us."
It took a few moments for his brain to process those words, but even when he did, he had to question them. "What the hell are you talking about?"
"Last night I took the liberty of drugging them, to ensure an easy audience with Roronoa Zoro. I find it's quite easy to sneak in unnoticed on idiots with a false sense of security. Unfortunately, I couldn't get a hold of you, as well, since you were....otherwise engaged."
Sanji's face burned with anger, embarrassment, absolute hatred for this man he had barely met. "You've been watching us."
"I watch everyone who comes to this island," He smiled, and moved to open the tent's flap, "but I've never given anyone the honor of knowing that. Not until now."
Armerind's smile suddenly transformed into a subtle expression of shock, and Sanji noticed him tense considerably. Through the flap of the tent, clutching Armerind's wrist with what seemed to be a deadly tightness, Sanji was relieved to see Zoro's hand.
"It's about time you woke up." He said, loud enough that Zoro would hear him. His smile still grimaced past the throbbing numbness in his leg, but his spirits rose again toward optimism as Zoro emerged.
Everything about him seemed bristling and off-kilter, from his horribly wrinkled clothes to his half-waking, snarling expression. Sanji was eager to see what would happen to Armerind, eager enough that he neglected to feel ashamed as he sprawled incapacitated on the ground.
Armerind's smile was sharp, catlike, the sort of smile Sanji saw on Zoro sometimes, and more often on their most sadistic enemies. He willingly conceded his wrist to Zoro's care, allowing him to hold it firmly as he walked right up to Armerind and snorted in his face.
"Give it back." He said simply, tonally, like a parent giving a child his first warning. Armerind was his height, perhaps barely an inch shorter, and when Sanji compared them at such close range, the two seemed perfectly matched in overall physique. He was interested to find out just what sort of story was behind this strange islander, what deeper confidence could leave him so forward and vainglorious.
"Only if you'll use it." Armerind smirked, and clutched the white sheath at his side only tighter.
Zoro glanced over at Sanji only momentarily, and their eyes showed the same reaction of astonishment. Then, his eyes narrowed and he pinched his eyebrows together with a not-so-subtle show of displeasure. "What the hell are you doing? Get up and kick his ass!"
The hair on the back of Sanji's neck rose with the hot blood to his head, and he barked right back at Zoro, "I tried! He nearly broke my leg!" And yet, as the usual urge to prove himself stronger prevailed, he winced his way to his feet, and limped only slightly as he balanced himself on one foot. "He knows what he's doing," he admitted ruefully.
"You're an embarrassment." Zoro scoffed, and looked away with characteristic disdain. Sanji waited too long to fire a comeback, and by the time he even thought of one, which wasn't very good at all, the moment of anger has dissipated.
Armerind's soft chuckle interrupted their quarrel. "Don't worry, I have no intention of harming either of you further, until I discuss the reasons for my most rude introduction. Especially your lover, Zoro, I had no right to hurt him, I know. But he was determined to make our acquaintance a difficult thing to obtain." His wrist still wrenched in Zoro's vise-like grip, his face bowed respectfully and he continued, "Would you please join me for breakfast? My cabin is only a little way from here. Even the invalid, there, should be able to make the trek."
"Fuck you," spat Zoro, shoving Armerind away like a pest. Then he lurched forward, his hand outstretched and reaching obviously for the katana at Armerind's hip, "and give this back!"
Sanji couldn't tell if it was a second, or less than one. Had the sound actually reached his ears after the motion? Before Zoro's hand could even connect to the katana's handle, Armerind had unsheathed his longsword with a shivering 'shhhhk,' and lodged it with absolute stillness between Zoro's thumb and forefinger.
The quiet that followed said everything. Zoro suddenly had a reason to be careful, and even from his distance Sanji could see a tiny trickle of blood run down his wrist, where the sword had left a barely-there notch on the web of his hand.
"First we eat," Armerind explained coolly, "then we negotiate a suitable ransom."
~*~*~
The sound of clinking metal was all around them.
To say that Armerind's home was unusual was a grave understatement. Sanji was trembling with anxiety even as he sipped the tea their insistent host had prepared, trying not to think that above his head, from the high ceiling of Armerind's small cabin, there were hanging dozens of sword, if not a hundred or more. Every shape, make, and style, some from eras no one remembered any more, some shining brilliant like new. They made a peculiar, nervous wind-chime, swaying into each other with a constant, heavy, musical sound as the breeze drifted in through the open windows.
They were on the walls, too, everywhere they could fit. The collection seemed impossible for a man no one had heard from in twenty years. They were all stolen, Armerind explained with a smile, discreetly and without notice by pirates and travelers who had come to Betoni Island over time. The challenge of acquiring new pieces for his museum had turned him into a master of stealth, he said, and with age it had become a fun little game.
Sanji found it difficult to concentrate on his tea, which was strong and bitter, not the sort he enjoyed at all.
The walk to Armerind's cabin had been arduous for him, as his leg was still screaming in defiance of any movement whatsoever. Zoro had half-heartedly offered to support him halfway, but Sanji had batted his hand away with a gruff refusal. The last thing he wanted from Zoro was pity. He couldn't think of any conditions under which he would accept it. Because he knew the swordsman would have refused it from him. And that was that.
Mind over matter, he assured himself, gritting his teeth against the pain and trying to wash it away with the scalding hot tea that slid in small, nervous gulps down his throat.
The cabin was completely ensconced, practically impossible to find if you weren't looking. Cradled inside a thicket of towering cocoa trees, camouflaged by the moss and mold that had overgrown the stone edifice. The entrance itself was blocked by a thick curtain of ivy, which Armerind explained was quite corrosive if handled for very long. They had rushed inside as quickly as possible, then, only to be greeted by the curious armory he kept.
Only a bookshelf and a bed made the place seemed lived-in. The fire he kept in the center of the one-room cabin, around which they were sitting, appeared to be his only creature comfort. After what he had seen, Sanji was surprised that he even kept a bed. It wouldn't have been shocking at that point to learn that Armerind slept in the treetops with the monkeys, even in the blistering rain.
Though he knew so little about Armerind, everything he learned made his hatred only grow. Everything about the man seemed strange, obsessive. He kept eyeing Zoro appraisingly, studying the way he moved and listening intently to the way he spoke. It made Sanji want to blind him, slice his ears off if he had a cleaver at his disposal. Possessive, he couldn't say he was, but the store of weapons all around him did its best job of making him fear for their safety, and Armerind's sanity.
"Coadari Village," he said plainly, and Sanji was suddenly jostled from his thoughts back into the conversation that was taking place without him, "near the Calm Belt, a bit South of here. I was sixteen when I left."
Armerind leaned forward and checked the bubbling pot over the fire as it cooked their breakfast. Sanji wanted to say so many things, but bit his tongue. His temper had already gotten him in trouble that morning, and he was determined not to react again until he knew every fact of the situation. Zoro seemed to be keeping his calm, so once again he resolved to follow that lead. He tried to think about the earful he was destined to get when they were finally alone, rid of Armerind and his strangeness, reunited with the white katana, back on the sea with Luffy and the others. It would be welcome, after the tight, nervous feeling that was seizing him now.
"To train." Zoro said. His voice suggested that he was echoing something Sanji had missed.
"Of course," Armerind's arrogance would have been enough to curl Sanji's eyebrow if they weren't already. He found his teacup suddenly empty, and suppressed the belch that wanted to escape. He hoped secretly that they had forgotten about his presence, "among others I found only distraction. I don't want to become stronger to impress someone else, and I don't have some shining ideal of the warrior's code. I just knew, somehow, that this is what I was meant to do."
It sounded frighteningly simple, and a bit fanatical to Sanji. He glared at Armerind when he wasn't looking, and couldn't see anything about the young man that indicated any crazed dementia. But then, he knew well enough to remember that the most psychotic were often the most seemingly level-headed.
"Why twenty years?" Zoro seemed downright interested, and it made Sanji even hotter under the collar. He bared his teeth for a moment, wanting to jump up, kick Armerind's head in, and ask Zoro what the hell he was doing. The only facts he cared about were that Armerind had stolen a prized possession, drugged the rest of their crew, and was blackmailing them into seeming to care.
"That's how long it took." Armerind said smoothly, as if the answer had been completely obvious all along.
With the chiming swords his soundtrack, Armerind went about preparing his bare, unimpressive breakfast. Rather than watch him, Sanji looked up at the bookshelf, and was shocked to find volume after volume of scholarly text. Medical journals, anatomy guides, psychological studies populated his library, the sheer number and variety only aggravating Sanji's distrust, as if anything could have assuaged it at this point.
"Are you a doctor?" He found himself asking. As soon as he said it, he regretted it. He had wanted to disappear, but now things were getting far too curious. Then he remembered what Armerind had said, just after striking him to the ground. How else could he have known just how he had injured me?
"Not hardly," Armerind replied quickly, and held out a coconut-shell-turned-wooden-bowl, filled to the sloppy brim with a grotesque stew of roots and dirty vegetables. Sanji's stomach turned just looking at it, but with a wince he took the bowl anyway, "I just find that knowing about the human machine has helped me immensely."
Sanji glanced over at Zoro, who was sipping at the stew calmly. His eyebrows twitched only slightly at Armerind's words. It was easy enough to tell that Zoro was uneducated in such matters, but Sanji had never seen it as a detriment to his skill. As he lowered the bowl, though, and looked over at Armerind, he could see a fog of jealousy clouding the swordsman's eyes. Zoro wiped his wrist over his mouth, and scoffed.
"But you haven't actually fought anyone for twenty years." He said challengingly.
Armerind turned his head to Zoro slowly, pausing midway from filling his own bowl. "No, but that's why I choose to begin now."
Zoro's face relaxed with sudden confidence, but that same pinprick sensation that had gripped him that morning returned to Sanji's mind. For some reason, he knew Zoro was being premature, judging this stranger on his experience alone.
"Well, then, if you're meaning to duel me, then just say so. I'll just take some of these swords when we're finished. Or, should I say, when you are." He had been eyeing some of the flashier swords on Armerind's walls since they came in, but Sanji was surprised to hear such boastful words so soon.
"You're proud." Armerind responded very simply, and, unaffected, continued his meal.
He said nothing more as he ate, and a few seconds passed before Sanji heard Zoro say, "Oi, you should eat."
"I can't eat this." Sanji hissed, pointing at the stew as if Zoro had somehow looked over it.
"Don't judge it on how it looks, it's actually not that bad."
In fact, his stomach was battling ferociously with his palate, forcing him to take Zoro's word on the matter. He hadn't eaten since yesterday afternoon, and in between the hiking and the fighting and the strenuous sex, he had developed quite a searing appetite.
A growl barely made it past his scowl as he lifted the bowl and sipped.
Remarkably, Zoro was right. It wasn't half bad. Not that he would have given Amerind anything but grief for his presentation. He hoped against his instincts that Armerind knew what he was cooking, given the obviously vast medical knowledge he had, and bit into one of the rather spicy roots.
"I hope you aren't giving us the same thing you slipped the others," Sanji snorted, "what was it, by the way?"
"Hokarabi leaf powder. It's a tree that grows here, on the island. A few grams are enough to knock out a full grown man for a day or two. Depending on your sensitivity to tranquilizers, of course," Armerind was a little too forthcoming with his information, and it worried Sanji. He sneered incredulously as he forced himself to swallow the stew, "but I have no reason to do that to either one of you. You're free to do as you please, given my demands." Suddenly, he looked over at Zoro, and took it upon himself to reinstate the topic at hand. "I've heard of you, you know."
"I supposed." Zoro replied darkly, waiting to live up to whatever Armerind had heard. For at least as long as Sanji had been in his company, it seemed that Zoro's reputation always preceded him.
"I listen to the conversations people have when they come here, and your name comes up quite a bit. Hasn't for a few months now, though. I suppose that's because you've found a crew. Pirate Hunter Roronoa Zoro. How ironic, even if it is charming."
"How did—" Sanji began, knowing he was too far into the conversation to back out now. But Armerind was already interrupting him.
"This katana you carry, it's quite impressive. They say it's the one you hold like this?" He held up Zoro's sword, and poised it at his mouth. Sanji caught a glimpse of his lover's face blanching as Armerind bit into the tsuka ito that carried so many of his memories. His face was suddenly that of a furious protector, a jealous husband, a man who was watching his precious thing disgraced right before his eyes. Sanji couldn't say he felt for him, particularly, but he could feel the extent of Zoro's anger.
"Don't you dare touch it like that." Zoro whispered huskily, the tone making Sanji's ears tingle.
That was the tone. These were the circumstances.
Something he wanted to protect.
"I'm not playing games with you anymore."
"You almost got killed."
Sanji found his mouth hanging open a bit despite the drama happening before his very eyes. For those few seconds every thought was inward, every calculation and explanation suddenly coming together and making sense. He breathed in sharply and turned to look fully at Zoro, watched him with renewed focus and need, listened to the two men play off of each other toward a climax neither was quite sure of.
"And why? This sword has significance for you? You look at me as if I've murdered your mother." Armerind smiled, and then Sanji looked on in disbelief as the arrogant bastard opened his mouth, and ran his tongue sensually along the smooth-worn handle, eyeing Zoro the entire time.
Zoro leapt forward, as Sanji expected he would, knocking over the stew pot and practically smothering the fire as he lunged at Armerind. It was rather clear that Armerind allowed him to retrieve the katana, and for that reason Sanji felt compelled to cry out even before anything had happened.
"Zoro, look out!"
He knew better than to wait for that half-a-second to pass, this time around. By the time Zoro was on his feet, drawing his sullied sword, Armerind had already pulled his own. They crossed blades for the first time with a sharp, lightning crash of steel-on-steel, and Armerind laughed triumphantly.
The wind was gone from Sanji's lungs, as he suddenly realized what was happening, what could possibly come as a consequence.
"I've waited for twenty years to know that I was good enough to challenge the finest I could find. I had planned at first to murder your crew and steal the ship that brought you here, but that wouldn't have been much of a challenge, not while you all drank and caroused and fucked yourselves into mindless oblivion right under my nose," he held his blade flat against Zoro's, and the swords quivered in their hands, the metal scraping in tiny bursts of strength as neither conceded to the first blow, "but then, when I went to raid your camp, I found that sword....and I knew that destiny was aligning to serve me in a different sort of way."
Leaning forward, crouching as if ready to pounce although he knew he would crumble if he tried, Sanji gulped. A staggered breath left him, and he wondered if the pain in his chest was a by-product of Armerind's earlier blow.
"You will duel me, Roronoa Zoro. And I shall not lose."
Flashbacks might have rocked his senses, anger might have blown his mind, but Sanji couldn't seem to think of anything. His mind went void, useless, as Armerind spoke what he had only been fearing.
Why do I have to be here? He thought with sudden clarity, screaming in his head, why do I have to hear this, why do I even have to know?
Armerind's almond-shaped eyes jerked his way, and shot him an impish look that seemed to read Sanji's thoughts. He started, pulling back a little bit, and waited for Zoro's response.
"Tomorrow, then. Sundown." Rough and determined, Zoro was actually agreeing.
"What are you trying to prove?" Sanji asked brusquely, not caring that Armerind was still watching him, that the men were still locking steel only a few feet away.
"A true swordsman never refuses a duel," Zoro responded, snatching his katana away from Armerind's longsword, sheathing it softly and carefully, "but I'd hardly expect you to understand that."
Armerind smirked, and gave a grunt of smug satisfaction as Sanji felt his own skin chill.
"I'll be keeping my eye on your ship," Armerind sighed contentedly, as if their discord was feeding him. He held his scabbard up and slid the longsword inside with a dramatic motion, "if you make any move to gather your crewmates and leave, you'll be killed."
Sanji knew well enough to believe him.
"I'd never do such a cowardly thing," Zoro sneered, affronted by the very suggestion.
"I was talking to him." Armerind's dark gaze wandered, slowly, and fixed unmistakably on Sanji.
He gripped the place above his knee that was throbbing even more when Armerind's eyes caught his. He reminded himself not to move, not to jostle the wound, as badly as he wanted to tackle their host. "Why leave before I have the pleasure of seeing you dead?" he snarled
"Why desire my death?" Armerind asked, briskly and easily as if the following speech had been prepared all along, "you were the first to attack me. My only crimes of cruelty have been in self-defense. I've made it very clear that I don't wish to fight you, particularly. I've spared your nakama, I've fed you and shown you hospitality in my own home. I've even been kind enough to agree to the time of the duel as your lover has specified. Why then, should I die?"
Sanji was coldly silent, hoping to disappear into the moment, close his eyes and wake up far away from it. Back in Zoro's arms on the dew-sprinkled bluff, or wrapped in a blanket with the scent of Nami's hair all around him, the snores of Luffy and Ussop to comfort him.
"Is it because you love him?" Armerind's catlike smile, at its most sadistic, made sure that Sanji felt the sharpness of his verbasl cut, "how absurd, to love a swordsman."
As his breath quickened and his chest tightened even more, Sanji knew these were no mere side effects of his injury. He made it a point to keep still, to keep quiet. Armerind wanted to rile him. He wanted to invade their affair and use him against Zoro.
This bastard wants to exploit me like I'm one of his weaknesses.
He had to remind himself:
Zoro doesn't have any weaknesses.
"He can't belong to you, you know," Armerind went on, twisting his invisible knife deeper, "today, he belongs to me, tomorrow to his next opponent, and so on and so forth until he is finally killed, tied forever to the one who takes his life. And he'll always, always belong to that sword. You're just a footnote. You're not even that."
Sanji hoped that his expression communicated that he wasn't intent on dignifying him with a response, but then he spoke in spite of his principles. "Die," he spat hatefully.
"Sanji..." Zoro started, his tone reflexive, abortive. It was obvious that he had nothing to say, no guiding wisdom or comfort to offer. But he had softened his voice just enough to indicate that he wished he did.
"You shouldn't involve him in this," Zoro directed his next words at Armerind, narrowing his eyes in the fervor of some increasing emotion, "as a man of honor."
"He is already involved," Armerind explained, "however he remains in our business is his own matter. As an innocent I would have agreed to leave him behind in our dealings, but he has ingratiated himself. Proposing to be a warrior, attempting to bar you from my polite challenge. Besides," another sidelong glance at Sanji, "I don't think he would agree to feign ignorance, even if we relieved him of our company."
"You can stop talking about me like I'm not here," Sanji remarked.
"You're nothing." Armerind shot back harshly, immediately.
Suddenly, as quickly as anything else that had happened that morning, a point was aimed at Armerind's nose. Zoro's katana was drawn, reflecting the fading firelight, not quite a foot from the islander's face.
"Is this all you understand?" He jabbed the sword a bit toward Armerind, who hardly flinched, but listened politely to what he had to say, "I asked you to leave him out of this. If I have to bring violence to convince you, then I will."
Sanji felt humiliated by the drama being played out in his name. "Zoro, I'm perfectly capable of—"
"This is my duel." Zoro's eyes were wide, impulsive, crazed, and he turned them on Sanji when he spoke. It was enough to quiet him, enough to disturb him just deeply enough for Armerind's sharp scrutiny to notice.
"That's not wise," his thick voice addressed them like an outsider looking in, as their eyes remained a little world all alone in unrest, "you don't want to be on bad terms now, considering he may die tomorrow."
"I'm leaving." Sanji suddenly heaved, a sucking, shuddering breath accompanying his final glare at Zoro before he lurched to his feet. It was difficult to stand, and everything below his knee on one side was still tingling and resisting. It didn't want to function past the pain, but Sanji forced it, gritting his teeth and dragging the leg along as he skulked toward the door.
He didn't listen to whatever they may have said after his announcement, he only concentrated on his breath, and on getting back into the sunlight. When he broke through the ivy curtain of Armerind's front door, he was struck by the glorious stillness of the morning. They were in paradise - humble and welcoming paradise. But even as a fresh-scented breeze blew through the trees, rustling the canopy overhead and sending a swirl of colorful leaves along the trail in front of Sanji, he could feel nothing but pain. Beauty all around him, but nothing but doubt, despair in his heart and his body.
Halfway down the path, he leaned into a thick tree trunk, not as exhausted by discomfort as he was by his overwhelming thoughts. Resting his burning forehead against one arm, he whined, wanting even one answer to replace the million questions. His shoulders slumped forward. He felt suddenly weak.
It was like a beautiful sensation of sleep. He gave in to it, and let his entire body go limp. Without a sound, and even with a tiny little smile, he felt himself begin to fall.
~*~*~
A tiny burning sensation, a barely-there popping sound, and he found himself awake again.
Well-weathered, soft-worn canvas was beneath him, molding to the uneven waves in the beach's sand. He was stripped from head to toe, pale and naked in what seemed to be the late-morning sun. A fire burned close by, and by the time he looked blearily into the flame, he realized it had been a spark that had roused him. With a tiny motion, he scooted away, instinctively ready to simply turn around and sleep again. Not yet had he remembered. And subconsciously, his mind wasn't wanting him to.
He bumped into another body, and within a moment he felt a whisper against his ear, heard his name so softly, so heart-breakingly sweet. "Sanji."
"Zoro." He replied with a murmur, not even turning around, not needing to. Their bodies were both soaked by the sun, hot to the touch. Dry, smooth skin skimmed the side of his leg as he felt Zoro turn to face him.
"I don't know what I should say."
And yes, there were all those memories, all that knowledge he had wanted so desperately to have turned out a dream. It all came flooding back to him at once, and he suddenly realized how much more clearly he could think without Armerind's presence anywhere nearby.
"Hey," his voice trembled, but he forced a stiff upper lip, trying to lose his eyes in the sky until he had the courage to turn his head, "I said I'd compromise, didn't I? I'm ready for this. It's no big deal."
"But—"
Desperately, he made a bid to avoid the subject. "Did you carry me back?"
"Of course," Zoro's answer was so incredulous, so instantaneous, that it pleased Sanji more than he could bear, "our clothes are drying on the rocks. I thought we could go swimming, maybe, before we have lunch."
It's just a normal day.
"You wouldn't rather sleep?" Sanji asked with a smirk.
"Not today."
Finally, he looked over. Sand was in Zoro's hair, his cheeks were a little bit burned by the sun, but everything looked just perfect to Sanji's eyes. Especially when the normal, unreadable look on his face faded to make way for a microscopic but irrefutable smile.
"Are you smiling at me?" Sanji asked, not meaning to whisper but doing so anyway.
"I'm glad you're all right."
"It's damned embarrassing," he looked away and snorted, not wanting Zoro to see his humble momentary blush, "to have gotten injured so easily. I'm just ashamed, is all."
"Somehow, I know exactly what you mean." Zoro answered simply, and laid his flat palm out over Sanji's stomach.
Sanji enjoyed the feeling for several moments, and finally sighed. "It's just like any other day, right?"
"Except everyone else is unconscious."
"We'll just enjoy ourselves, enjoy our vacation."
"You'll make my favorite dinner?"
"You'll make love to me all night long?"
"We'll see."
"Same here."
They looked at each other and smirked conspiratorially. Just like any other day.