Epilogue
A few days later, Zoro sat up from where he was resting on the worn couch in the bunk room fighting off a coughing fit. His eyes were red and scratchy, his throat felt as if he had swallowed sandpaper, and his nose was constantly running.
Sanji walked in with a small platter on which sat a steaming bowl.
"Here, Asshole. I made you some chicken soup."
"Fuck. You."