I don't own anything but my ideas.

Chasing the Strange Perhaps

After everyone had left the dojo, Zoro had remained behind, watching Sanji's hypnotic movements like an addict finally getting a fix after days of withdrawal symptoms. Sanji was every bit as powerful as Zoro knew he would be, and he'd barely lasted ten minutes of Sanji stretching and trying to figure out how much he was healing before Zoro had stood up with a wild grin and pulled Kitetsu and Shusui from their sheaths.

The feral smirk Sanji had given him in return was enough to make his brain pop out of his head. It was like every nerve fiber in his body was going of at once, relaxing and tensing and driving him insane as he kicked off his boots and crossed the floor to stand across from the blond.

Fighting Sanji was like fighting the ocean. The cook threw kicks like the ocean threw tsunamis—hit after hit after hit of amazing, battering force, relentlessly coming at him with every intension of taking his feet out from under him and dragging him under. Blocking Sanji made his bones shake, and more often than not, he was pushed back across the floor just from the shock of the hit. It took every ounce of strength he had to keep his body in form and from crumpling.

And Zoro sucked in every second like he was an addict. He was drunk, imaging the ways in which he could build his body, his reflexes, his reaction time, his attacks, the ways in which he held his swords—

He had five weeks left with Sanji, and he swore that every second he possibly could, he would be fighting the cook. Sanji's strength was the next step on his way to being the best.

Sanji twisted like he was a rubber band, impossibly resilient, and one leg whipped around, up over the cook's shoulder to come down like a cannonball at Zoro's head. Zoro barely managed to get his swords over his head and crossed in time to take the blow, and even with how fast Sanji had been moving, the cook had still been able to angle his leg just so to avoid the blades and knock them so the flat side was up, giving him free reign to deliver the full force of the blow. Zoro's body shook and a smile split his face. He arced his swords to better take the weight of the attack with Kitetsu and slashed forward with Shusui, straight for Sanji's throat.

In his drunken state, he almost didn't see the grimace on Sanji's face that had caused him to close his one good eye.

Zoro's body snapped back, yanking the sword to the side and relieving pressure on Kitetsu just enough so that Sanji could drop, rolling away from the attack that flashed through the air right where his neck had been moments ago. Zoro sucked in an unsteady breath, stumbling and trying to keep himself upright as he was thrown off balance, and Sanji tumbled, crashing to the ground awkwardly on his bad shoulder.

"Fuck," the cook snarled, using his other arm to lift himself gently off of his injured limb. Zoro was at his side in a second, hoisting Sanji into a sitting position even though the blond sent him a glare that might have made Shanks think twice about staying that close to him.

Zoro stayed awkwardly crouched next to Sanji as the blond rolled his arm tenderly, trying to decide for himself if he was just sore or if any more damage had been done. Satisfied that he wouldn't have to tell Chopper that they'd been doing exactly what he'd threatened them not to do, he turned to his shin, where a deep bruise was forming right where Zoro knew a there used to be a clean break that split the bone right in half. Or, the "used to" was presumed, based on the rate that the bruise was growing. Sanji had been given the antidote knocking his body back up to NSPH major, but apparently he still had yet to entirely come back to major status.

"You were fighting with your bad leg?" Zoro asked, sort of in disbelief, especially with how much Sanji wanted to get out of here. Any more injuries would just push his time back and place him in line for the wrath of Chopper.

"Shut up," Sanji snapped, flexing his ankle and knee carefully and wincing again. "It's my dominant side."

Zoro felt a little hiccup jump inside his lungs. With how good Sanji was on his toes, he was obviously ambidextrous, which meant that he'd chosen to rely on his stronger side. Or… maybe had to.

He needed to use his dominant side to fight me? Something about that fact made him want to gloat.

"Whatever." Sanji moved to pull himself awkwardly to his feet, waving off Zoro's hands when he tried to help again. "It's not broken, and with my body coming back up to par because of the antidote, it should be fine by tomorrow. I'll kick your ass then."

"Sure, cook. If you can even stand up straight. I thought it was the cast throwing your balance off; guess I gave you too much credit."

Sanji sent him a dark look over his shoulder from where he'd been stretching a kink out of his lower back. Zoro felt his muscles tingle even from such a simple gesture, and had to fight to keep his anticipatory smirk at bay. He could see the conflict behind Sanji's eye as the blond argued with himself, struggling to keep the retorts and retaliations at bay after deciding that he'd almost reinjured himself enough for one night, and it was pretty cute.

Sanji turned back around to keep working on the tight spot in his back just as Zoro blanched at the thought that had gone through his head, missing the way the swordsman's eyes popped and his mouth fell open like a fish out of water.

"Watch it, marimo. I might snap back when you least expect it thanks to that antidote."

Zoro was still choking on his tongue; an answer was beyond him at the moment.

Cute?!

"You hungry?"

Cute?!

"Hey, moss-brain, you in there?"

"What?!"

Sanji blinked, head snapping around as Zoro barked out the word. The green-haired man scowled and turned quickly away, hoping to god his cheeks weren't flushed.

But really though, cute?!

"…Ok then. Well, I want a snack before I sleep. You can come if you want. …Dumbass marimo."

-oOo-

Chopper really wanted Sanji out and about, especially now that the cast had been taken off.

And by that, Chopper meant out out, not buried under layers of clothes and snuck into one of the fights being held in their town in a wheelchair.

And the little doctor could be persuasive when he wanted.

Besides, Sanji needed clothes that actually fit him, not the sweatpants and shorts that had been cut to accommodate the cast. Zoro wasn't complaining, but he had a sneaking suspicion that Sanji's presentation meant a lot to him and it was part of the reason he didn't want to venture into the big outdoors.

"We should stick him in drag," Luffy had laughed to Zoro a couple of days ago as they tried to brainstorm ways in which to get Sanji out and about, making the older man crack a smile while Sanji nearly swallowed his cigarette. "People might not even really notice it's him. Hammock passed out that night after seeing me in drag. …I still don't get the nosebleed though."

"Why were you in drag?" Zoro blinked at the blissfully unaware face of his younger friend. It didn't really surprise him, the goddess in human form had certainly been trying for long enough to get with him, but Luffy was normally pretty oblivious about doing things with her.

Luffy shrugged. "Some costume party. Hammock didn't tell me about it until I was already there and we spent too much time at dinner, so I just took some of her clothes. Her nursemaid was worried, said something about too much blood loss."

Sanji gave Zoro an odd look, taking the cigarette from his mouth so he could mouth "hammock?"

"He means Hancock."

"Ah."

"I still don't get why he doesn't call her Boa," Zoro looked over to where Luffy had stuck a finger up his nose and was fishing around absentmindedly. "It'd be so much easier."

"BOA HANCOCK?!"

"Yeah, that's her."

"LUFFY IS THE UNCULTURED CLOD THAT LOVELY GODDESS IS IN LOVE WITH?!"

"How the hell do you know her?"

"MY LOVELY SWAN! WHAT HAS CAUSED THIS ATROCITY?! WHAT HAVE I DONE WRONG?!"

It had taken Sanji a good twenty minutes of blubbering after that to come down from that realization. Zoro had spent the entire time sighing to himself while Luffy laughed and intermittently asked Sanji if there was any meat already made in the fridge. Apparently Sanji was high enough up from wherever he was from to know Boa Hancock. Zoro still had yet to find out anything about Sanji's father—even the guy's name, or Sanji's hometown, or anything about the facility he had grown up in during the first eleven years of his life. Shanks had been intrigued when Zoro reported (more or less) what Sanji had told him, but hadn't pressed further on the subject. And Zoro was glad. He had to tell Shanks the important things, but for some reason, telling Shanks the extensive recount of his peek into Sanji's life felt like an intrusion. Or a breach of trust.

But Sanji needed clothes, in or out of drag, and so it was decided (by Chopper) that Sanji and Zoro would go out for some food, some groceries, some clothes, and some fresh air.

Sanji was grumbling to himself as he stood on the inside of the door, constantly reaching up to pull the hat Law had lent him further down over his eyes. The bandage over his left eye had yet to come off, even though Chopper checked it daily for any improvement. Zoro had yet to see for himself if there was any change from the purple, oozing, bulbous form it had been the first night Sanji was there. Chopper never checked it when Zoro was around and Sanji had never offered anything further on the subject so Zoro didn't pry. That seemed to be how the cook worked.

Zoro was still going with a firm "no" for the cow print hat on Sanji. It really wasn't his style. That didn't stop Sanji, even though he probably shared Zoro's opinion, from pulling the hat down tighter on his head and over his face every second he got. What, did he think the wind inside the bank was going to take it off his head? Even while he was standing in front of the teller, trying to write his number down and recite information to the woman and somehow not look conspicuous, he was still adamantly holding the hat over his left eye. The teller was starting to give him looks, and Zoro could see Sanji scrambling to finish the transaction before she decided that he was too weird to go through with this and got the manager. All the while, he was showering her with compliments and trying to woo her into one of those shy smiles he seemed to like so much. With the brim down over his face though, he really came off as more of a pervert.

"…Alright," the woman said finally, seeming to find everything in order. "I just need to see a driver's license. We don't have one on record and you're not from around here so we need to verify your identity."

"I'm afraid I've lost it, miss," Sanji returned smoothly. His voice was like shortening, slicking up the process for his ease.

"Um…" the woman looked about ready to turn and get her boss and Zoro shifted in annoyance. So much for inconspicuous. If the damn cook had just given up on the hat—because seriously, who did he expect to waltz into at the bank and see him? Gangs didn't deal with bank tellers.

"I can, however," Sanji cut in again, finally letting go of the stupid hat to lean forward on the counter, gesturing happily at the computer, "answer all of the security information you need."

Zoro's ear perked up and he shifted unconsciously to turn his head in the direction of Sanji's voice. Maybe he'd be able to pick up something useful about their strange visitor's origins.

The woman looked unsure, but eventually moved her mouse to the correct tab on her computer. Her eyes kept flicking unsurely to Sanji, but the guy was so slick it was almost impossible for her not to see his point of view.

"Mother's maiden name?"

"Abrams."

"Father's middle name?"

"Reginald."

Ok, so it was a hidden account if the stupid fake information said anything. Zoro rolled his eyes again and tuned out, not bothering to expend any more energy on something that would take him down a long and winding dead-end path. No doubt it was completely untraceable, and if they did manage to find an end, they'd come up with the social security number of someone who had died or disappeared years ago. He closed his eyes and leaned back, comfortable enough to wait without getting more annoyed until the cook was done.

"Hey, marimo."

Zoro's eyes popped open at Sanji's voice, looking up at the cook as he tucked a huge wad of cash into the borrowed sweatpants' pocket. It was the first time in days Sanji could really wear pants, none of the pairs he'd borrowed could fit over the cast.

"You fall asleep?" Sanji seemed genuinely surprised, like he hadn't seen all of the times Zoro passed out in his kitchen seconds after entering. "You're standing up. And there are a shit ton of people. It's loud as fuck."

"Let's go," Zoro returned gruffly, bypassing the question and heading for the door. He paused when Sanji didn't immediately move to follow him, mind zeroing in on the fact that it would be harder to catch the cook if he ran into the crowd, injured or not, especially because Zoro couldn't carry his swords around in broad daylight. His eyes flashed to find the exits before—

"There? We walked in that door just, like, ten minutes ago. What's that way?" Sanji stuck a thumb over his shoulder to a set of large double doors where the hoards of people in the bank were filing in and out of the bank. "Is that way a back door?"

Zoro made a face, turning on his heel to march past Sanji and towards the correct door. Now the cook was ok to follow him.

"Did you fall into a coma standing there? Your brain doesn't seem to have turned back on yet."

"Shut up, cook."

The first stop had been a wallet, as Sanji seemed extremely put off by the idea of paying for his things with a huge roll of cash jammed inside his ratty sweatpants. To be fair, it sort of looked like drug money, so Zoro didn't tease him that he made the leather store their first stop. Sanji's choice, though, did merit the mocking.

"You've just come back from practically the grave, and your priority right now is a four hundred dollar wallet?" He almost couldn't believe he even had to ask the question in the first place. Sanji gave him a look that clearly said he didn't agree, and was even offended at Zoro's… impudence or whatever.

"First," he said calmly, handing the cashier a couple of bills, "a gentleman's class goes down to the tiniest details. You can buy the most expensive suit on the market, you're still going to look like shit if your wallet has Velcro," he spat the last word, taking the wallet with a pleasant smile and moving to the back of the store to transfer his cash into its stitched folds.

"Second," he continued, "just because I'm technically on the run doesn't mean I have to pretend I'm in a thriller movie and delve into a world of dying my hair black and wearing trench coats with the collars up. That shit's the first thing you look for if you're trying to find someone who doesn't want to be found. Third, I have the money and I have the time, seeing as I can't go fucking anywhere or really do shit at all. So I'm going to get comfortable and sit this out without grimacing every time I remember that I'm wearing this," he looked down at the sweatpants and long-sleeved t-shirt riddled with stains and pin holes, scrutinizing them like they had been in contact with toxic waste over the past few days. Suddenly remembering why he was wearing such items, he reached up and pulled his hat further down on his head. "I may have just come back from the grave, but I didn't lose my style along the way, and the hell if you think I'm going to sink below my standards because my fucking shin hurts."

"Whatever," Zoro huffed, turning to stalk back to the door. Idiot-lovely could catch up after he was done huffing the smell of new leather.

"…Seriously?" Sanji called, still standing where he had been, and Zoro stopped grudgingly to look back at him. Sanji was pointing over his shoulder again to the front door. Zoro growled and marched by him, pointedly ignoring Sanji's blatantly perplexed expression.

By the time they got to the middle of the city, Zoro had nearly gotten them lost a dozen times and Sanji, despite not being from the city, had gotten them to the shopping district alive and in a timely manner and had started to see a pattern.

"So wait," he snorted, literally holding a hand up to Zoro as he paused. Zoro growled and kept walking. "You literally have no idea how to get anywhere, do you? You're entirely serious right now."

Zoro didn't answer and Sanji burst out laughing at the top of his lungs, drawing the attention of the people around them. Most knew or recognized Zoro from the underground, and considering the mishmash of people they were used to seeing around Shanks' territory, Sanji's strange outfit seemed almost in place. What caused the nervous reactions was the fact that, ever since the marines had started stationing themselves inside the city walls, the activity on the streets had fallen to an all-time lull. Nearly every citizen living in the city had either survived the crumbling and rebirth of the city during the past five years or had moved in for Shanks' protection. No one called any attention to themselves with the possibility that the marines might take notice. At this point, the marines knew anyone could be a possible tie to Shanks and his underground empire, and no one else wanted to be blacklisted.

Sanji apparently thought this too funny to care. He didn't even really seem to mind that his hat was slipping back off of his head, and that fact would have intrigued Zoro were it not for the fact that Sanji was an asshole.

"I thought you grew up in this city!" Sanji chortled, finally reaching up to catch the hat as it threatened to really fall. "Do… do you even know where we are now?!"

"Come on!" Zoro snarled under his breath, grabbing Sanji's wrist and dragging him down the road toward the first drug store he saw. He yanked Sanji through the doors and to the back corner where cards and birthday decorations had gone untouched since the city had reopened.

Zoro threw Sanji into the corner, where the cook stumbled but couldn't stop laughing and was now doubled over on himself. Zoro clenched his teeth and his hand snapped out again, wrapping around Sanji's injured wrist like a vise. That got Sanji's attention, though he didn't stop chuckling to himself.

"Are you a complete idiot or do you really not know how stupid it is to announce yourself like that around here?"

"What's the big deal?" Sanji snickered, trying to pull his wrist out of Zoro's grasp. "It's hilarious, I can't believe how directionally challenged you are! How do you make it home at night?"

Zoro growled and squeezed, making Sanji suck in a sharp breath and jerk his hand in response, finally looking up to meet Zoro's dark eyes.

"What do you know about this city?" Zoro growled.

Sanji's face had been blank before, but now it dipped slightly and his eye flicked away, still unearthly vibrant even in the dark corner of the drug store. "…I know the rumors. Everyone outside the city does. A virus, a gas leak, a toxicity problem, a terrorist group, something horrible that forced the government to quarantine the city for two years and send in heavy fire power to try and shut it down. But not before enough rumors got out about inhumanly strong people out for blood to catch the attention of… you know, people like me and my old man."

So people knew that the reasons behind the quarantine were bullshit, but it seemed that without prior knowledge of NSPH—or vampires to the outside—anyone outside the city walls couldn't have put it together.

"The first NSPH started showing up when I was sixteen." Zoro's voice felt heavy, speaking about his strange history for the first time ever out loud. Something in him awed the strength it must have taken Sanji to tell him everything he did. "Small fry. Maybe NSPH superior but there weren't enough to cause concern except for people like my family that knew what to look for in vampire victims."

The word "victims" made Sanji twinge slightly but Zoro pressed on.

"Then they started multiplying. Within two years they had killed half of the city, rampaged through the streets and destroyed everything, made the government call for a siege to try and starve them out as they kept killing off humans, and forced the military to march on every living thing on the streets—including civilians—as well as roll in with tanks and eventually and drop ballistic missiles on our heads."

Sanji was motionless, expression still pinched. He'd stopped trying to get his wrist out of Zoro's grasp a while ago.

"After those two years things started getting better. The NSPH disappeared for some reason, and Shanks somehow came out on top of the underground city that had been forming beneath the government's nose while we tried to figure out how to fight for ourselves. What you're living in now is three years of Shanks' devotion and the resilience of the people here. This entire city and every single person in it is under Shanks' under his protection. We literally built it from scratch out of the ruins of what the country left for dead. This city doesn't answer to anyone, and the government knows it. When they figured out just how strong and independent we were, they sent in marines, who have been camping out here and slowly putting together how… self-sustaining this city is. If anyone living here had been scared or just dragged along for the ride, someone would have talked by now and they'd know a hell of a lot more than they do now, but everyone here has survived the country turning its back on us and has no desire to return to it and no one is saying anything, so they've figured out just how deep the underground runs. No one calls attention to anything here, so even you laughing is a huge red flag that—if nothing else, that you haven't been here long and don't belong."

Zoro finally let go of Sanji's wrist, and Sanji's first movement following was to pull his hat tighter down over his eyes. He waited patiently for Sanji to speak. He was beginning to understand Sanji's expressions and how to read him, and he knew the pinched face that meant Sanji was trying to work up the energy to speak his mind.

"…I knew the city had been… hurt, but I didn't know how extensive the damage was. It might be ancient history to you, but outside of the people here, not many know what really happened. Even people from the underground like us that travel and visit often don't know. Just you telling me that a couple thousand people built this… kingdom in three years sounds like bullshit."

Zoro was about to protest, snap at Sanji for not believing it with he himself being straight out of a fairy tale, but Sanji let out a slow breath and Zoro waited for the blond to finish his train of thought.

"Point them out to me," Sanji said finally, reaching into his pocket for a long overdue cigarette. "So I know what to look for."

Zoro took a step back, suddenly much calmer than he had been before. He wasn't even sure why he'd been so angry. He'd been looking and there were no marines around. But with Killer around, he'd grown up understanding how important "better safe than sorry" was and it had just been a relfex.

"You'll know 'em. They're the only thing that look like they have a tie to the government around here."

Sanji nodded, waiting patiently with his cigarette between his lips and his hands in his pocket before Zoro finally took the hint and started back for the door.

"…Zoro. This way."

Zoro grunted and turned, falling into pace next to Sanji as the cook led them out of the drug store.

Zoro let Sanji lead the rest of the way. He seemed to have a better sense of the way the roads switched and what he was looking for, which is how Zoro found himself in one of the most expensive stores in the entirety of the city. The boutique owner had things shipped in especially from the most high-end and well-made designers so that the store would hold up in the underground. Most higher-ups underground had their own clothes shipped in, but the store was expensive enough to survive in the city's market just by selling a few outfits a year.

The second Sanji spied what was in the store windows, he lit up like the dawn sun breaking over the horizon and, not wanting to lose Zoro, grabbed the other man's wrist and dragged him into the store. Zoro's heart did a choked thump at the feeling of Sanji's hand clenched around his wrist, but just as soon as the cook had grabbed him, he let go and was flitting around the racks of clothes like an over energetic puppy, picking out shirts and pants and feeling the material of every piece of clothing he passed. Zoro couldn't help but smile in amusement as he watched.

Sanji had dozens of shirts balanced in one arm, dozens of pants in another—even though every single one of them was black and looked exactly the same—and was still picking out ties off of the rack. The storekeeper at least looked happy as Sanji dragged them all into the dressing room. Zoro sighed and found a comfortable chair to sit in outside the door, resting his head back against the wall as he waited for Sanji to come back out—

"Hey, moss head, wake up."

Zoro blinked heavily, looking up to find Sanji in front of the largest mirror in the store, pulling a tie tightly around his collar. Zoro's breath left him in a rush, and he was left sitting and staring at Sanji as the cook put the final touches on the outfit.

The black pants were black and pants, but when the cook put them on they became so much more. They swathed his impossibly long legs in ink, wrapping around him like the night and clinging to the crispest edges of his hips. The shirt he had on at the moment had a similar effect. This particular one was a deep teal, sucking the very light from the store and bathing Sanji in it to illuminate his hair and one good eye. It sat on his shoulders like a cape made for royalty, exactly the right size to highlight the strength in his back. Even the tie, which Zoro normally found redundant on a dressy outfit and overly expensive, couldn't do anything but compliment Sanji's pristine stance. The cook knew exactly how to hold himself to draw the attention of everyone around him. Gone were the sweatpants and the t-shirt, and along with them, it seemed, Sanji's nervous demeanor and obvious discomfort. The only thing not perfectly in place with the rest of his outfit was the bandage around his eye, keeping it hidden from the world.

"Where's the hat?"

Sanji shrugged slightly, not meeting Zoro's eyes. "Doesn't go with the shirt," he said quietly, before barking, "And don't fall asleep, asshole."

He decided that he liked what he was wearing and ducked back into the dressing room to try on another set. "You're supposed to be watching for marines so you can point them out. And looking out for anyone in case I have to run."

Zoro didn't think he even could sleep with the way his heart was hammering in his chest. He sat back dumbly in the chair and nodded even though in the back of his mind he knew Sanji couldn't see him.

The next shirt Sanji stepped out wearing was a subtle pink with a deep navy tie around his shoulders to see if the color matched, followed by a mellow green shirt and brown tie. He repeated this way too many times, and the pile of "things to purchase" sitting next to Zoro grew so tall it nearly reached his head. When it finally did pass him in height, Zoro snorted loud enough to make Sanji shoot him a look.

"How much is all this gonna cost?" he folded his arms. "When you finally can get out of here you won't be able to cover transportation costs from everything you're buying here."

"Shut it, you uncultured slob." Sanji added another tie to the pile. "Someone with as few brain cells as you shouldn't even try to understand."

"Can you even fight with these things riding up your ass? Look at this," Zoro reached over and plucked a pair of pants from the pile, sending everything on top of it tumbling as he dangled the cloth like a soggy towel away from his body. "The material's so thick you can't even—"

Something flashed in front of his eyes, and then all at once something with the force of a freight train plowed into the side of his head, sending him careening across the floor where he skidded to a halt in front of the cashier, making the poor girl shriek. Zoro grunted and pulled himself out of the floor, reaching up tenderly to see how much of his face was rug burn and how much was just bruises from Sanji's foot. Zoro turned around with a snarl to glare at Sanji where the cook was calmly refolding everything. The blond was wearing one of the pairs Zoro had been accusing of being too debilitating, and he hadn't lost an ounce of speed or strength.

"Don't," Sanji said coolly, taking the cigarette from his mouth and letting out a stream of smoke, "disrespect the clothes. I wouldn't buy them if I couldn't even defend myself in them. And don't," he picked the pile up, carrying it over to the cashier, "use such a vulgar tone in front of a lady."

Zoro grinned viciously, pulling himself to his feet. "I'll kill you."

"Try me, marimo. I'm so sorry, dear lady, for the commotion this hulking brute and I have caused, and I'm going to wear this out today," he gestured to the black pinstripe pants, ocean blue shirt and navy tie he was still wearing. Zoro didn't see what he'd come into the store wearing anywhere, excepting the hat he'd pulled back over his eye. Zoro had a sneaking suspicion he hadn't left it in the dressing room by accident. Sanji had even found socks, though they looked odd with the ratty sandals he'd been given this morning.

The girl behind the counter looked nervously between the two, but began ringing Sanji up anyways. Zoro scoffed at the pile in front of them. The store wouldn't have to sell anything for years after this.

"You good?" he asked after the girl had handed Sanji his multiple bags of clothes and finally got away from his waterfall of compliments and other sweet nothings.

Sanji shook his head, grinning maniacally. "Not even close."

Zoro hated shopping.

The next place they went into, Sanji spent an hour testing and retesting the durability of the store's shoes. Shoes, he said, were much harder to find ones that could withstand the grief he gave them.

I can see that, Zoro thought absentmindedly as he found another chair to wait in. His cheek was still throbbing from the earlier kick. Sitting there for an hour though was still a bitch. And he was watching Sanji flex his toes and stretch and test jumping and kicking and the cook wouldn't even let him fight. Sanji just had at the floor a couple times to test the sole. It was dumb. One second with any of his swords and Zoro would have been able to tell the cook if the shoes would hold up or not.

Which was how he found himself blinking himself wearily back awake, swiveling his head as he tried to locate the blond.

Nothing.

Shit—! Zoro leapt to his feet, only to grind to a halt as he found Sanji over in the corner of the store, new shoes on his feet and new clothes in the bags on his arms, ready to go. It looked like he'd been on his way over to wake Zoro (again) when something had caught his attention. Zoro watched as the blond slipped off Law's cow print hat and tucked it carefully in with his other clothes, reaching up to pick one of the hats off the rack and pull it over his head. Something heavy fell over Zoro as he watched Sanji tilt the hat this way and that before putting it back and trying another with a longer brim. No matter what he did, nothing seemed to fit him right, and it made something twinge in Zoro's chest to watch the blond struggling with something he was so in upset about. Without even realizing it, he found himself drifting over to Sanji's side.

Sanji glanced over when Zoro appeared next to him, but his gaze didn't linger and turned he back to the mirror, now on his third style and still not pleased if his expression said anything.

"Hold this," he grunted, shoving the hat that had been on his head into Zoro's hands. His hands snapped back up the second Zoro had a grip on it to comb frantically through his hair, pulling his bangs over to the left so they covered most of the bandage.

…His hair's grown. Sanji hadn't been able to do that the first night he was there. "…Did Chopper say anything?" His voice was strangely quiet and he couldn't really find a good reason for that.

Sanji's tugging slowed, but didn't stop as he fought to get his hair to hang in the right manner. He was silent for a long time. So long that Zoro had given up on an answer before the blond suddenly spoke up.

"…It's not going to heal."

He spoke like a war veteran, weary and forced into acceptance from the realization that nothing he did would change it, whether he truly accepted the fact or not. Not accepting it would only make him miserable and eat him from the inside out, so he was making himself come to terms with it.

"Chopper said the bandage can come off, and it doesn't look nearly as bad as it did, but…" he stopped there, but Zoro could finish the rest.

Taking off the bandage would be coming to terms with the facts that he won't get his sight back.

Zoro nodded, at a loss for anything else to say, and just stood quietly holding the hats Sanji passed him as he tried on style after style, eventually settling on a newsboy cap that had a long enough brim to hide his eye and enough space that he could tuck all of his hair inside of it.

Zoro's eyes widened as something occurred to him, standing behind Sanji in line. "…Hey."

"Yeah?"

"Come with us to our fight tomorrow."

Sanji turned to give him a confused look. "I didn't know you were fighting tomorrow."

Zoro grinned, now way more excited than he probably should have been for the fight. He knew for a fact his opponent wasn't very good. It was just that his boss had a lot of money and had wagered a lot on the fight. Nami wouldn't have let them say no for anything in the world. He should have been dreading the drive with everyone and the stupid fight that wouldn't last long enough to make the travel worth it, but now with the possibility that Sanji would come…

"Come on, shit cook. You have yet to see what the best fighters on Shanks' team can do."

Sanji looked like he was about to start jeering Zoro for his tiny unspoken confession, but something was pulling at the cook and finally he gave up fighting it and grinned back, turning away to hide his smile and pay for his items. "Fine, marimo. Just don't shit yourself with excitement. We're in a public place."

Zoro couldn't help it. He laughed, even at such a stupid insult.

-oOo-

Sanji stood at the side of the arena, mouth still hanging slightly open as he watched Luffy utterly demolish his opponent, crowd erupting all around them. Beside him, Zoro was leaning up against the railing with a huge grin on his face, cheering Luffy on. The marimo had the worst poker face in the history of all shitty poker players—no, scratch that, Luffy did. But Zoro was pretty damn close.

Still though, Sanji would be lying if he said it wasn't even a little bit contagious. If he weren't so busy staring like a fish at Luffy, he would have been smiling too from the sheer energy in the arena. Even as he tried to understand how Luffy could possibly be strong enough to pull off the last move he'd done, the younger man contorted like he was made of rubber and punched his opponent so hard the man was launched halfway across the arena, where he then rolled across the other half and connected with the opposite wall so hard he had to lie there and collect himself for a moment before struggling back up. Meanwhile Luffy laughed to himself and rolled his shoulder, winding up for another punch.

Zoro had fought just before Luffy, showing off every strong attack he had regardless of the fact that his opponent wasn't even worth his time. The marimo had insisted on bragging and pummeling the poor man into pulp. And then the moss head had finished his fight and climbed out of the ring with Chopper flailing behind him about his injuries and come to join Sanji at the railing. The idiot didn't stop moving so Chopper could bandage him up until he was in place next to Sanji.

Jesus, I haven't run away yet. What makes him think I'd do it the second he's fighting?

Sanji was way to absorbed watching Zoro fight to run now.

Zoro was strong. There was no doubt about it. Especially for a human, he was incredibly strong. Sanji was still pretty confident that he could take Zoro if it ever came down to it, but Luffy…

He paused in his train of thought as Luffy leapt into the air like a gangly gazelle and spun around, flinging his leg like a whip into the poor man's face and smashing his head backwards into the ground where the rest of his body snapped up into the air upon the impact. Behind Sanji, the crowd jump to their feet as a unit, screaming their approval at the gore. Luffy had better stop soon or the poor sod would die.

Luffy… Sanji knew he wasn't a vampire—err, NSPH, as Law had called them. Sanji couldn't sense anything from him, and Luffy didn't do any of the things that even NSPH in hiding couldn't keep completely under wraps. No, Luffy was a human, but somehow still astronomically stronger than him. Maybe even him and Zoro combined. If he were to ever fight seriously with Luffy, the end might not fair so well for him. The thought was crazy; he'd never met anyone stronger than him until he got to this city. He could have even killed Zeff if he really needed to. People like Shanks though, or Law or Kid…

He used to wonder why Zoro emitted such a powerful air of respect around Luffy, and now he knew why. The muscle-brain was enough of an idiot to see brute strength as the most important trait. He looked at Kid and Law the same way. But Luffy was damn strong and Sanji couldn't help his own level of respect for the effervescent idiot rising. And Luffy looked up to Shanks like Shanks carried the world on his shoulders without even breaking a sweat and smiled the whole time. Though after seeing the inner workings of their city, that might not have been too far from the truth.

This was an odd family indeed. Odd enough to still have him on edge for fear that some idiot would let something slip about his hiding here. He couldn't shake the feeling that someone was watching over his shoulder, and hadn't been able to since he'd woken up weeks ago in the hospital room. It was partly to be expected. Shanks' men were constantly watching him, and for the first few days that had accounted for the feeling, but now that'd he'd acclimated to the way their eyes felt, he could still feel something else lurking. Watching, but not close enough to put him directly in danger. There was a prickling on his shoulder blade when he was being watched, and he had yet to not really feel it at all since coming to Shanks' territory.

Sanji took in a deep breath, grimacing at the way his body shuddered, and yanked the new hat further down on his head. Beside him, Zoro looked over to make sure Sanji was enjoying himself, and despite that itchy prickle still on his back, Zoro's grin was contagious enough to have him smiling back after only a second, chuckling instead of being annoyed at how simply he was acting. The moss head was oblivious enough to actually think that he could convince Sanji that all was right in the world, which was maybe why it was working.

Something flashed behind Zoro's deep green eyes at seeing Sanji's expression, but before Sanji could lock onto it to decipher it, the swordsman had turned back to the fight and was yelling for Luffy to stop stalling and just finish him.

…Huh.

Maybe Zoro wasn't oblivious as he acted.

And Zoro was easy. He was easy to be with, despite his doltish mannerisms and his abhorrent manners. If Sanji was feeling brave, he might even admit that Zoro was calming after everything that had happened. Zoro's faith in what was to come was so unwavering and steadfast that, sometimes, he actually did convince Sanji that everything would be alright, and Sanji found himself breathing normally.

Sanji noticed the weight lifting from his lungs as he smiled alongside the brute and sighed, reaching up to push the brim of hit hat back slightly. Dud eye and protrusive bandage or not, he didn't want to miss any of Luffy's moves just because the stupid thing was in the way. Slowly and entirely not of his own accord, he found his gaze being drawn back to the overgrown marimo next to him, taking in the hard jawline and the way his cheeks stretched and the cords of muscle in his neck shifted when he smiled.

Zoro was something else, that was for sure.

With the lead off of his chest and his mind at ease enough to try and enjoy the fight, he didn't notice the dark figure moving through the crowd behind him, staying just far enough away so that Sanji's keen sense of smell couldn't pick him up through the crowd. The prickling in Sanji's shoulder hadn't gone anywhere though.

-oOo-