Notes: Obviously, I don't own these characters or this series. Oda does. Also, this is meant to be a sort of a sequel to my previous One Piece fanfic, Seven Steps. I'm likely to do some slashy stuff later. I had the idea for this while formulating former fanfic, but found it didn't really fit in with Seven Steps. This is just me fooling around, mostly, though I'd like for this work to be of quality. For those who reviewed Seven Steps, thanks a bunch. I'm glad for the comments! And I'd love to get some critique on this. I know I have a long way to go before I'm a good writer, and I'd like to someday become something along those lines. And, without further blathering, enjoy!

Sanji held his head in pain. He pulled his hand down and saw it covered in blood. The blood wasn't a surprise, he could feel it run down his face, over an eye already covered by hair. He staggered back to the ship. One, maybe two ribs were broken, and he was cut to hell. Why were there two swordsmen? This was what Zoro did, not him. He reached in his pocket and pulled out a cigarette dripping with blood. He looked down his nose at it.

Well, fuck. Best make it to the ship faster. He had some dry cigarettes there.

After what seemed like an eternity, he saw the familiar sheep head that meant he was home. He made his way onto the ship, stumbling around a bit as his vision was starting to fail. He was trailing a river of blood behind him. Maybe the muscle-head could loose blood like that, but Sanji wasn't quite used to it. At the sight of his room he quickened pace. The sooner he got his tobacco the better.

Then all of a sudden he was catching himself from a fall. He heard a crack and collapsed on the ground. He sat up and saw some of Usopp's tools lying on the ground. That thoughtless dick. He looked at his ankle, the source of the crack. He tried to move his foot. It hurt. A lot.

"Son of a bitch," he said under his breath. In a shuffle of boots and blood he was on his feet again. Limping his way to his precious cigarettes he heard a shriek of terror. His headache flared.

"Aaaaahhhh! Sanji! What happened?! Ahhh!! You're bleeding!" screamed a startled little reindeer, pulling things out of a blue sack as he ran towards the sagging man.

"Hey, I'll be fine," the man said as he still made his painful way to his bunk, "I just need some cigarettes."

"B-but your ankle's broken! You can't walk on that! Sit down! You'll make it worse!"

Sanji ignored the doctor's pleas until he was finally by his shelves, grabbing a cigarette from a disorderly pile. Then he plopped down in his hammock, a pool of blood underneath him. With cigarette in mouth, he cupped his hands around a small flame until the smell of smoke was around him. He sighed in relief before he took a long drag. He lay there while Chopper yelled about how terrible this cut was, and that break, getting out his supplies and starting by bandaging his ankle. The cook drowned him out, pulling his cigarette from his mouth to exhale, more than a little pain stabbing him in the ribs.

"A-ah! Sanji! Sit up! Your ribs!" Chopper pleaded, his arms flailing a bit with bandages in hand.

The blonde sat up and started unbuttoning his bloody rag of a shirt, revealing his thin, pale frame. As soon as the clothing dropped to the ground a large, red bruise made itself visible under the trailing blood. The fat, purple lines defined three ribs, turning in angles that weren't quite right. He held his breath as the panicking doctor dressed the bruise. Then, once a bandage was wrapped around his torso, he breathed out sharply, smoke filling the room. It hurt to breath, but he had suffered worse.

Sanji paid half attention to anything that wasn't his cigarette as Chopper was quick to clean his cuts. That is, until Chopper took note of his head wound. As Chopper reached up to brush his hair aside, Sanji caught his hand.

"It'll be fine," Sanji said, Chopper's eyes wide with sheer fear.

"Aahh! I'm sorry! But you're hurt! I have to help you or you'll keep losing more blood! It's dangerous!" Chopper seemed to cry.

Sanji stared at the boy in front of him, his gaze calculating. The reindeer's arm remained in Sanji's grip, but he didn't try to move it. Chopper stared at him in wonder and waited for his next words, his eyes larger than Sanji thought possible. After what seemed an eternity to both, Sanji spoke.

"Fine, whatever," Chopper's arm was released.

Hooves slid hair aside and a damp washcloth wiped of the blood drenching his face. Sanji kept his eye closed as Chopper found the actual wound in the sea of red. He had to peel hair jammed into the laceration away. A bright red, bleeding circle was over half of his eyebrow, and a discomforting purple bruise ringed that. The doctor could tell that something blunt had hit him with ferocity.

"Sword hilt," the wounded said, seeming to sense Chopper's curiosity, "There were two swordsmen, and Zoro seemed busy enough with one. As far as I know, he's still fighting the bastard out there somewhere."

Chopper nodded in understanding, his eyes almost as wide as when Sanji held his wrist. The lump on his forehead was massive, and dangerously close to his eye. It might have damaged his actual eye!

"Ahh! Your eye!" Chopper yelled, startled by his own deduction, "Open your eye!"

The man stared at him in apprehension. He knew what Chopper was looking for, and he knew what he would find.

"It's fine," he said in a tone quieter than both of them expected.

"B-but I need to see it!" he started stammering.

Again Sanji stared at Chopper, calculating, deciding how far he would let the walking panic attack go. Again Chopper looked on the verge of weeping. Slowly Sanji's closed eye opened to reveal an eye missing a pupil with a milky film over the blue of it. Chopper gasped most audibly, and in an instant understood that it didn't matter if he eye was damaged now.