His chest felt tight, like someone had swathed reams and reams of bandages around his torso. Out of all the days Pudding could've called, she chose today. Out of all the days she could have broken up, she chose today. Out of all the days they could've attacked, they chose today. Hands trembling, he reached into his pocket for another cigarette, but it slipped out of his fingers and fell into the puddle with a soft splosh. His last cigarette.

Sanji looked up towards the heavens, letting his tears mix with the rain, breathing in as deep as he could, till he felt his lungs stretch and sting. The phantom bandages loosened a little, before closing in around his chest once again. Zeff was still lying unconscious in the hospital, and Baratie lay half-gutted. Between losing his limbs and losing Baratie, Zeff would've chosen the former in a heartbeat, yet here they were. And all this, for whom? For his worthless son, who had already made him give up a limb, and now was on the verge of taking away his life and his restaurant in the same breath.

Anger erupted from somewhere deep within. Shitty, stubborn old geezer. All he had to do was give up Sanji. It's not like he was a stranger to people giving up on him. And THIS time, he wouldn't even mind! His very life was too cheap a price to pay for Zeff's happiness. If only!

A bird took off noisily from the branch overhead, the flapping of it's wings brought his mind back to the present. The dark inky sky had turned deep lavender. He checked his watch. 5:45 am. Nearly Dawn. He'd spent close to 3 hours in that desolate park.

"No point going home now." He heaved himself onto his feet. The rain was relentless, lashing down on his lithe body, yet doing nothing to soothe his temper or his mind.

"Might as well grind some coffee."

The southern exit of the park led directly to a narrow, gravelled path lined with thickets, which in turn led to the backyard of his cafe, The La Martiniere. The cafe front opened to the hustle and bustle of the main Street, but the back had tables and chairs and was complete shielded from the front by two rows of orange trees. Nami had designed it for him, and when he'd gently pointed out that it clashed with the suave theme of his cafe, she'd winked and patted his shoulder and told him that it was 'Gap Moe'. He didn't know what was 'Gap Moe', but Nami had winked at him, so he'd go with it.

His shoes crunched on the gravel, feet feeling like lead. The citrus scent wafting towards him grew stronger, the familiar aroma putting his mind slightly to ease. For some reason, his anxiety had been telling him that maybe his cafe was on fire too, but the refreshing smell of oranges meant that it was safe.

For now.

His slouch straightened a bit. What was done, was done. Now to plan onwards.

He turned at a corner, and the cafe came into view. Sanji's eyebrows shot up in surprise. A man was dozing on one of the tables, arms crossed in front of him and chin buried in his barrel chest. He was dressed in a crisp white shirt and dark pants, and his dark grey coat lay on the table in front of him. From where Sanji stood, he could only see the man's left profile, and boy, was he huge. He seemed to take up the entire space in a table meant for four. But this wasn't what surprised Sanji.

The sun hadn't even crossed the horizon, yet the man was bathed in the purest, most translucent golden sunlight sanji had ever seen. It made him seem almost ethereal, with his earrings twinkling and his dark hair appearing greenish-golden. The sunshine glistened on the tanned jaw and furrowed eyebrows, giving him the appearance of a sculpture in deep thought. As if the heavens decided to open up and pour their light onto him and him only.

Sanji stared, too mesmerised to move-- as if, by moving, he'd somehow break the spell. But he had to return to Zeff, and the thought of the half-burnt Baratie sobered him enough to make him take a step forward. He walked as quietly as he could, gently raising the latch of the wooden picket fence and pushing it open. Stepping onto the smooth tiled floor, he made his way to the sleeping man.

Up close, he was even more like a statue--perfectly crafted veins stuck out of his calloused hands and neck, a scar over one eye, jaw clenched even as he took a nap in an unfamiliar place. Sanji had certainly never seen him before-- he'd remember the sunshine if he had.

The downpour had turned into a steady drizzle, not beating down on him anymore. Time to wake up the first customer of the day.

He raised his hand to tap on the man's shoulder, but stopped midway when his eye flew open and the man turned to look at him with a steady gaze, brow still furrowed.

That scar wasn't merely for show, it seemed.

"Would you like some coffee?"

"And you are?" There was no animosity, neither in the question nor in his gaze, yet the man's rigid stance remained.

"The owner." Sanji smiled.

"The man's eye widened for a split second, before his posture loosened up a bit, and his brows unfurrowed.

"Yes please."

"Anything else you'd want with it?"

The man studied Sanji for a few seconds, as if making up his mind, then said, "Cheese crackers," and gave a little smile.

If Sanji was surprised, he didn't show it. Years and years of waiting at tables in the Baratie had made him adept in the art of The Poker Face. He could feel his Poker Face subconsciously taking over, because when the man smiled, something impossible happened-- the sunshine got brighter, more healing, almost shimmering.

"Coming right up!" Sanji smiled back. Now it was the man's turn to stare. Sanji felt the urge to say something, anything, to break that stare.

"Come inside?"

It took a few seconds for the man to catch what he said. Sanji could practically see the gears of his brain turn, as he tried to process Sanji's words. When it finally clicked, the man just nodded and pushed back his chair, grabbing his coat with his free hand. As he stood up, his head brushed against the umbrella-shade of the table, cementing Sanji's first impression of him-- the customer was Adonis personified.

Sanji turned and swiftly walked towards the doors, fumbling in his pockets for the keys. The man followed him silently. Something in his gaze back then was making sanji incredibly consciousnow. When the key clicked and the doors swung open, the cool air with coffee and cinnamon hit his senses and he let out a small sigh of relief he didn't know he'd been holding in. Walking in, he flipped on the air conditioning, and the automated window shutters opened with a whirr. The sun had still not come up, so he switched on the central light too, right above his work space, then grabbed his apron and rolled up his sleeves. Now to get to work.

The man, for his part, chose the seat on the counter nearest to his coffee grinder; small talk was the only way out.

"Your name?" Sanji asked engagingly, pushing a bowl of cheese crackers towards the man, as his hands smoothly began their work. He relapsed into a half-conscious haze; cooking was indeed therapeutic.

"Zoro." After a tiny pause, "And yours?"

"Sanji." He measured the roasted coffee beans carefully, before turning around and putting them into the grinder and switching it on.

"As in 3 o'clock?"

Sanji's head snapped up and he whipped around. "And how do you know that?"

"Half Japanese," Zoro shrugged.

Sanji's shoulders sagged and he let out a huff, then beamed. "Me too."

"And the other half?" Zoro asked, popping another cheese cracker into his mouth.

"Half french" Sanji replied, turning back.

Zoro hummed and looked around.

"Nice place, this."

"Extension of our main restaurant. You seem new here."

"Yes, came here to attend a funeral." Well, thought Zoro, almost.

"I'm sorry."

"Don't mind it. Do you usually open this early?"

"Haha no, today is... Let's say exceptional? We usually open at 9 and close by 2."

"I see." Both of them relapsed into silence.

Sanji sifted the ground coffee to a filter paper and put in some more beans, the aroma of roasted coffee spreading everywhere. The water bubbled, he added some ground coffee to it, and the strainer was ready to strain some of the best brewed coffee in all of Grand Line. Sanji took a cigarette from his secret drawer and lit it, waiting for the coffee to tell him that it was ready to be poured out.

They sat in comfortable silence for a few more minutes before Sanji's internal clock went off and he stubbed the cigarette. Setting two cups down on the counter, he carefully lifted the mug and strained the coffee, first into one mug, then into another.

"Milk or sugar?"

"Neither."

"Alright then." Placing one of the cups on a saucer, Sanji gently slid it towards Zoro and smiled. "Enjoy." Zoro nodded his thanks.

Sanji took the other cup and leaned against the cabinet opposite to the counter, taking a long sip of the hot coffee and letting it scald his mouth. He found the sting comforting, as the coffee slid down his throat, down his gullet, finally settling down in the pit of his stomach. Ah, the little joys of life. A perfectly brewed cup of coffee, if he might say so himself.

He raised his cup for a second sip, and nonchalantly glanced over at his customer, who, undoubtedly, must have been floored.

But Zoro was busily blowing on his coffee, his cheeks puffed, his thin lips shaped in a small 'o'.

Sanji nearly spat out his coffee and doubled over, struggling not to choke on his laughter.

"What?" Zoro...pouted?

"I-I am sorry," Sanji took out his handkerchief to wipe his mouth. "Didn't know you had a cat's tongue."

"Now you do." Zoro scowled, clearly embarrassed.

"Pour it on the saucer." Sanji advised, grinning from ear to ear. "It'll cool down much faster that way."

"Who does that." Zoro huffed.

"Only the two of us here, you don't need to be embarrassed." He ended with a wink.

Zoro's scowl didn't leave his face, but he followed Sanji's instructions. Whatever apprehensions he might have had, vanished with the first sip. The scowl disappeared. He took one sip, then another, and another, while Sanji looked on, fascinated at how much Zoro seemed to be enjoying his coffee. Well, not any coffee, butSanji'scoffee, so there was that.

Zoro gulped down the last of the coffee like he was parched. Sanji was already ready with the coffee mug in hand, and wordlessly refilled the saucer, his own coffee forgotten. He'd reheat it later. The scene unfolding in front of him was too mesmerising to miss.

The ritual was repeated several times, and stopped only when the mug ran out of coffee. Zoro looked like a well-fed tiger, and Sanji's face was flushed. When was the last time he'd enjoyed seeing someone eat his food? Seeing others enjoy his food was a regular affair, but the last timehehad felt this giddy and proud was when he made some lasagna and Zeff had eaten it without a single complaint, and THAT had been nearly two years back. Funny that he remembered it now.

"-ll?"

Zoro's voice brought him out of his reverie.

"I'm sorry what?"

"The bill." Zoro repeated, slightly louder. Till now his voice had been low, but now sanji noted that it was a rough baritone.

"On the house." He answered.

"I don't keep debts." Pat came Zoro's reply.

Sanji almost rolled his eyes. "It isn't a debt. It's on-the-house."

"Some business sense you have there, huh," Zoro smirked. Sanji bristled, but said nothing.

Seeing that he failed to get Sanji riled up, Zoro got up with a little sigh and put on his coat. "I'll be off then," and turned to leave.

"The coffee!" Sanji called out after him.

"What?" Zoro looked back, confused.

"Was it good?"

Zoro stared. Then a full-blown, shit-eating grin smile slowly creeped on to his face. Sanji would DIE before he'd admit it, but that smile flipped a switch somewhere in the back of his mind.

" 'Twas ok. I've had better." Zoro grinned and swing open the glass doors, and just like that, Sanji's sunshine was gone.

"The little bastard," Sanji smirked and saw him walk down the path as long as he could, silently contemplating two revelations.

One. Zoro's sunshine clearly rose and ebbed. Rose while talking to him, ebbed when they sat in silence. The only thing he didn't know was whether this was the case when Zoro was just with him, or whether it was a general phenomenon. And no, that wasn't a pang of jealousy he just felt. Never.

The second revelation was more... sobering. It had struck him at the same time he'd felt thatswitchflip in his mind, and it hinted at something Sanji wasn't ready to face, at least, not just yet. He had more pressing issues to tackle. But he couldn't simply ignore it.

He couldn't ignore, that for the first time in his life, someone other than Zeff had made the Rain stop.