Authors Note: Did it seriously take me over 5 months to update this story? You are not hallucinating, it did indeed. I guess the only thing I can say is SORRY! But I'll try and push through my blocks and stumbles to get back to writing.
Slight Language in this chapter. But just "shit" and "damn" and "hell". That's about as cussing as I will go. I do not own one piece or the characters or yeah, you know the drill by now.
Italics mean thinking
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"Trust me" A quiet voice pleaded inside of Zoro's head as the ground crumpled lightly with small mouse squeaks wherever Zoro walked. His heavy boots tore into the muddy and wooden deck, leaving tiny scruff marks against the distorted surface. Zoro gnawed on the inside of his lip with raw teeth. He was filled with hunger and yearning, but it was not his stomach that ached from emptiness. His gum lining split and a little splash of blood flooded into his mouth, leaking droplets over his tongue. Zoro felt a small bead of blood escape from the corner of his mouth and trail down the side of his chin. With a distant look, he raised his arm and wiped the crimson liquid with the backside of his tan hand. He glanced behind him briefly, seeing the wooden door swinging stiffly on its hinges. Zoro cast a brief look down, the picture of Chopper's fear and petrifaction still clear in his mind.
The metallic taste swished in his mouth for a few moments and Zoro savored the iron taste that left a fresh pallet of bitterness in his mind. He let out a disgruntled sigh, running his thick hands through mossy hair and clenching at the top, his fingers digging through the sea of green with frustration. The blood lusting taste soon grew sickening, like tin left out in the rain to rot. Zoro spit a small grouping of saliva on the ground, little specks of red dotting the white and bubbly mass.
"Oiy!" A voice shouted out in a husky tone, "What do you think you're doing?"
Zoro looked up at the voice with tired eyes. Sanjii was trouncing towards him, with hands thrusted in lumps in his suede pockets and a cigar, burning at the tip with a tiny trail of smoke drifting in the light breeze. Blonde hair swept over the left eye of the cook, but the other eye displayed an arrogant curl to it. Zoro did not bother with a reply, turning himself away from the stampeding chef.
"Marimo! Look at me when I'm talking to you" Sanjii called out after the desolate swordsman, quickening his pace. His shoes left sharp trotting sounds against the wood, ticking away on the deck.
"Screw off dart brow. What are you, my mother?" Zoro replied with a sharp twinge. His eyes flashed over to Sanjii with a sharp glare. I'm not in the mood for this petty squabble. God, not now and not ever. His gums still stung like chilled silver pressed against his flesh. His tongue rubbed the side of his mouth while giving Sanjii a downcast expression.
Sanjii chewed into the butt of his cigar and his eye shifted precariously under his swooped hair. "You planning on wiping' that up or do I need to mop it up with that batch of fuzz you call your hair?" Sanjii retorted sourly, pointing at the glob of spit that oozed on the floor. Zoro cast a short eye down but ignored the minuscule mess. Still turned, he proceeded to walk away without a care to the vicious look that Sanjii was carving in the back of his head. Sanjii's eye glared hard at Zoro, but an expression of confusion formed in his open mouth.
"I'm not done with you yet!" Sanjii dashed after the Marimo and placed his lemon-scented hand tightly on Zoro's shoulder, spinning him around stiffly. Zoro's head sharply turned and met Sanjii's exposed eye, just inches from his face. Zoro let out a musty breath, filled with the smell of grog and sleep.
The top of Zoro's lip perched up slightly and intensity shot from his eyes. He clenched his jaw and felt every muscle in his arm contract tightly, resisting the urge to unsheathe his sword and begin an attack. His fingers- muddied with dirt at the creases of flesh and slathered with dust and blood, held together by only the sweat which stained his skin- were held tightly together. Crusty finger nails dug into his wrinkled palms, twitching at the corners to keep from plowing his muscled arm into the crevice of Sanjii's face. He let out a demeaning snort, the air pressing out of his nostrils. He held his dark and emerald eyes level to Sanjii's deep blue one. But his normal calm and analytical green was replaced by a chilling feeling of angst, as though Sanjii were looking directly into a bee hive. There was neither joy nor any mocking sense of comrade. Sanjii could hear the bleating and the buzzing, with sounds of a swarm and yet, the bizarre sharpness of a shrieking beast.
"No, but I'm done with you." Zoro retorted with a disgusted expression. He shook his shoulder free of Sanjii's grasp with a blunt motion and continued down the deck, leaving a dumbfounded cook with his hand still resting in the air.
Zoro furrowed his brow as he walked away, shaking his head dimly from side to side with a few cracks in his neck. Done with it. He thought, his head pounded with confusion and ill directed rage. It? Ah, I don't even know any more. The shit-cook was just getting on my last nerve. He better make himself god-damn useful for once and clean up the spit. Why does that little spat even matter? He's just a picky, lazy, woman conniving little leech. It's not my job. Not my problem. Zoro huffed internally, dreading the sound of the cook's voice that still rang softly in his ears.
Ah, shit. Zoro swore under his breath weakly after turning a corner and sitting down on a raggedy old barrel. Damn Dart brow, just looking at him gives me a headache. He peeked his head around the corner and, thankfully, saw the blonde haired cook heading in the opposite direction, with his pants crinkled and his feet dragged morosely across the floor. The ship stirred slightly and inside the barrel there was a faint sloshing. Zoro took a slight sniff and let out an aggravated grunt. Booze- Just what I need.
Removing himself from the top seal of the barrel, Zoro soon went to work opening the contraption. He pried his meaty fingers under the shell of the top and leveraged it out, weaning it side to side with a little force. I could've just broken the damn thing open.
Zoro stumbled around briefly, searching for a mug or a cup, something less animalistic than using his filthy hands. Eventually, he came across a dusty mug, with olden frost resting at the bottom. With a splash, Zoro dunked the glass under the ocean of booze. Pulling it up to his mouth, he chugged the frosty brew, with a little excess spilling off the frame of his chin. Another glass was subdued by Zoro, who set the mug down with a quenched relief.
He regained a seat against another barrel, which sloshed with the scent of pickles, crinkling the edges of his nose. Propping his elbow against his sturdy knee, he rummaged his fingers once again through his hair. Ugh, first Chopper now Sanjii. I can't let my…my… anger? No, my shame. I lost, I was weak, and I was closer to death than I should've been in that last battle. And now I'm taking it on my crew. Sure, Sanjii deserves it, in a way I guess.
Zoro clenched his eyes together, squeezing together the painful memories of the last battle. I need to be stronger. Best swordsman in the world? That's damn far off if I avoid a little squabble with a wimpy love-sick baby.
He opened his eyes, unveiling the fresh scene of the ocean, rocking and turning as the tides crashed with a gentle and playful tone against the hull of the ship. Zoro let out a deep breath, exhaling a pocket of warm air into the cool afternoon. His breath was seen and wavered in front of his eyes for a few brief moments before fading. Zoro felt it go, but continued to watch the spot where it lingered, his eyes staring blanking out into the sea.
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Stupid Marimo. Stupid, ugly, coarse spitting Bastard. He can't treat a lady right nor can he treat his own damn ship right. Sanjii thought harshly as he stormed away from the angst swordsman. Done with me? Ha! You can starve tonight, moss head. Excuse me for not wanting your putrid saliva pressed against the floors that grace the feet of such lovely ladies of Nami and Robin. You're not even worth their spit.
Sanjii's hand fumbled around angrily in his pocket, searching for a small lighter to reignite his cigar. As his fingers clenched the cool metal, Sanjii's eyes softened and looked back for a brief second. Down the corner, Sanjii could see Zoro sitting atop of a barrel, running his fingers through his hair with a look of confusion on his face. His problem. Sanjii thought dismissively.
But that didn't stop something inside from nagging at the corner of Sanjii's stomach. It pulled the lining and splashed around in the acid, troubling him with a feeling of uneasiness. Zoro and Sanjii weren't enemies. No, if anything, they were on the opposite end of the spectrum, more towards close friends. They didn't tell secrets and they didn't express any certain like for each other. But there was more underneath their daily bickering and nightly insult battles. They were comrades and friends, so much more than acquaintances because they understood each other. Sanjii understand Zoro's goals and his passions, and he felt it with every blow and block from the sword which the swordsman was constantly eager to swing at him. Sanjii would not admit it, nor would the mossy haired swordsman, but both respected each other more than they would ever let on. Their drive, their determination, their strength- Both knew that they were more similar than they would care to understand. And that is what troubled Sanjii. He knew something was wrong before he could dare to process it.
"Done with you…" Sanjii muttered under his breath as he sulked away, his feet itching for a little sparring with his normal tormentor. You've been done with me a lot of times Marimo. But, I don't think you've ever meant it.
Sanjii squished the butt of the cigar tightly, rubbing his squeaky clean his fingers against his temple. Stupid Marimo, making me worry. So what, you lost, ain't that a shame. Don't mess it into everybody else's business. You're stronger than that, and damned if you're not then you've been wasting everybody's time.
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*Later that night*
There was a fleck of garlic wedged in the corner of Sanjii's fingers. He picked and picked at the tiny fleck, tearing away the first layer of flesh trying to get it out. But it was crammed in tight, refusing to let go, clinging with its sweet odor. Screw it, Sanjii thought angrily, just go right ahead and ruin the scent of my hands. Annoying little garlic. He hissed internally, but took a deep breath and a strong smile stretched across his face. The cook picked up several plates, each loaded with gourmet meals, stacked with fish seared in the richest oils and tangerines hand picked from Nami's orchard. Sanjii balanced the dozen plates on his arms and waded out into the dining room.
The kitchen door swung quietly behind him, but every head in the room turned around, each eye staring at the food with a savory expression. But no announcement was quite as bold as a captain, with raven hair and wide eyes shaking in his seat.
"Food!" He exclaimed with an obnoxious grin. His rubber arm stretched out to snatch several plates from Sanjii's unprotected arms. Luffy's grubby hands fingered the plates with skill, drawing his arm back to him with a satisfied smile.
"Oiy! Luffy! Ladies first!" Sanjii belittled, coming up behind Luffy and swiping the food from under his reach. A disappointed frown snuck on Luffy's face as he watched his food drift away from him in the arms of the cook. His lower lip protruded slightly and he gave a whimpering puppy eyed look. Sanjii simply rolled his eyes in response.
The champagne haired chef gently delivered the food to Robin who took it with a quiet and subtle nod, sending the cook spiraling with love towards Nami, who decided she would not bother with a reply. She had her nose dug into a map and had one hand tracing lines around the borders of the stained map. Determination and focus honed in on the map and she distractedly reached for a fork to begin eating.
Despite Nami ignoring the cooks' effort, Sanjii didn't appear sulky. Rather the opposite, he finished handing out the steaming plates to the remainder of the crew before taking his seat a few down from Luffy. He gleefully looked around to see the crew members enjoying his cooking, and that alone was enough to bring a sense of pride to Sanjii. He was also happy because one moody, drunk, green haired misfit was missing from the table. Yet, just as he was picking up his fork, Luffy interrupted with his mouth brimming with the destroyed remains of dinner.
"Whab aboub Zobo?" The captain asked stupidly, choking down bits of meat and rice between breaths.
Sanjii looked down at his food, and back up at his captain with slight anger in his eyes. "What about Marimo? If he wants his food, let him come and get it." Sanjii then thrust his fork into the pile of steaming fish that was sizzling on his plate.
Luffy looked at his cook, who was crossly sawing his food with a steak knife. "No." Luffy retorted bluntly. Sanjii looked up at the captain, who sat folded back into his chair with his arms crossed against his chest. Sanjii's fork was frozen in mid entrance to his mouth before he responded, "Excuse me?'
"No. I'm not eating until Zoro comes here." Luffy answered stubbornly. His straw hat hung dimly over his eyes and he pouted his lower lip out.
"Well then, you can go get the moss head." Sanjii replied, hoisting his food into his mouth delicately and shooting Luffy an annoyed glance. But suddenly, there was a loud rumbling and Sanjii swore he could feel the room shake. Frantically, he looked around for the source, nearly leaping out of his chair. Instead, his eyes drew upon Luffy who was clutching his gurgling stomach. The captain looked up at the chef with pitiful eyes and whimpered, begging like a dog.
Another gurgle erupted from Luffy's belly, and it followed with a booming belch. Luffy continued to stare at the cook with wide, hopeful eyes. Sanjii rubbed his hand across his forehead in frustration before replying "Fine! Fine… I'll get that damn swordsman."
Luffy let out an ecstatic yelp and a tiny clap before emerging himself back into the realm of food, snarfing down both his plate and Frankie's. This lead to a slight fight and disagreement, Frankie was starving for his food and soon the two were going at it, with cries of laughter and encouragement from the rest of the table. Sanjii rolled his eyes solemnly as he headed out of the kitchen to go search for Zoro.
"Hey! Shit head!" Sanjii called out into the calming night sky with his hand cupped around his mouth. That baka deserves to starve if you ask me. Sanjii thought sourly. But nooo, Luffy had to beg and whip out his stupid little puppy eyes. Honestly, nobody else would really care, let alone notice, if that man just missed one meal.
Sanjii shouted again, but there was no reply, only the silence and stillness of the waves which had settled into the night. Sanjii took in a deep breath of ocean air, letting the salty coolness fill his nose and mind, refreshing him. Oh well. I guess I can tell Luffy I at least tried.
But Sanjii's exit was interrupted by the harsh sound of breathing. The heavy wheezing sounded like gasping and clawing for air, rather than the normal melodic snoring that Zoro was so famous for. He's probably just choking on some of that toxic sword cleaning stuff… Sanjii thought. But despite his attempt to convince himself, Sanjii found himself drawn towards the huffing sound.
"Marimo?" He called out quietly, and a sense of fear clutched his heart. The night sky no longer seemed comforting. It had become ominous, with the feeling of dread and darkness lurking behind its mysterious black shades. Sanjii tried to ignore the pounding that shook his heart, and with all the confidence that he could muster, turned the corner to investigate the breathing noise.
Zoro was slumped over the pickle jar, his head crashing against his arm which was resting on the wooden railing. Sanjii let out a small sigh of relief and called out, once more this time with an air of authority "Zoro! Wake your damn drunk head up."
But the sleeping figure did not stir at the voice, nor did it seem any more aware that there was another presence nearby. Zoro's body shook and wavered, his loose shirt billowing in the frosty air.
"Oiy! I'm not calling you again. Get up." Sanjii berated, approaching the crumpled figure. Only as Sanjii got closer did he realize the inconsistency in Zoro's breathing. Some inhales were sharp and sporadic, clinging to the air it sucked in through his cavernous mouth. Yet others were slow and gaping, hollow and empty breathes. Zoro's breathing pattern alternated between the shallow and the clambering, his chest heaving in and out in a pathetic rhythm.
That's when Sanjii started to get worried. Am I seriously wishing he would start snoring right now? He thought with a slight chuckle. But it quickly faded as Zoro's breathes grew louder and louder, with a powerful sense of weakness drawn to them. "Marimo…?" Sanjii asked quietly, feeling both cautious and concerned. The figure did not stir.
Sanjii looked back to the kitchen where he could still hear the bounding ruckus ring through the silence of where he stood. Maybe I'll just head back and let Zoro sleep. But as the memory of the day's previous incident flashed through Sanjii's mind, something in his gut warned him that Zoro wasn't sleeping. The chef approached the slumped figure, nervously reaching his hand to touch Zoro's shoulder.
"Zoro?" Sanjii questioned again as he placed his hand on the shaking shoulder of Zoro. The instant he made contact, the green haired figure spun around, his emerald eyes shining in the light. But the look he shot was not one of a hangover. Rather, it was fear, uncertainty. Zoro looked afraid.
Sanjii tilted his head curiously, removing his hand from the corner of Zoro's frame. But he was too late to withdraw himself.
Zoro leapt up from the barrel, knocking the pickle jar over, spilling its sticky green liquid over the surface of the ship's corridor. His arm shot out, pinning Sanjii against the wall. One hand was pressed tightly against Sanjii's neck and the other held Sanjii's left arm down. The blonde haired man was aghast, slammed against the wall and felt his oxygen supply ripped out of him. His feet barely touched the floor, balancing his weight on the tips of his suede shoes. Sanjii let out a gasp, followed by a weak choking noise, which murmured itself into "What the hell are you doing?"
But Zoro just stood there with his vicious hands curled tightly around Sanjii's neck, pressing him up against the wooden wall. The muscles in his arm flexed tightly, with veins and strength showing in every crease. He held in his breath, his chest swelling with rage and anger.
Sanjii squirmed slightly, trying to force his way out, but he found his legs growing weak from the lack of oxygen. His hands were pinned, his air was gone, and Sanjii looked into the burning eyes of Zoro. They were cloudy, shadowed over from the moonlight. Sanjii let out a small sound, it barely passed his choking lips: "Zoro".
But the clouded figure didn't hear the plea. It stood, stiff as a statue with his hand still thrust out, squeezing the neck of his chef. Zoro's body was rigid and his face was dark, his eyes set out from light and his face bearing a look of resentment. His dirty fingers began to close tightly and Sanjii floundered under his grasp, with little results. Sanjii could feel his lungs give out, drying out as raisins. Spots began to swarm the corners of his vision, followed by a creeping darkness at the sides.
And then Zoro let go. His hand released and the arm backed away, and the figure stumbled backwards, holding one hand to his head. Zoro's chest heaving and his eyes were hit by the light of the stars, scurrying across the surface of the deck in an attempt to take in his surroundings. There was a slight sense of panic when Zoro looked up and saw Sanjii collapsed on the ground, his legs sprawled out and his arms pointed out, his lungs expanded rapidly and his chest swelling just as quick. The blonde haired chef had his eyes squeezed shut, a look of pain and death on his face.
"…Sanjii?" Zoro asked faintly, staring at the weakened cook.
Sanjii's eyes shot open in response, a look that was plagued with both confusion and anger, all directed at Zoro. "What… were… you…. Doing…" He gasped out, still finding oxygen precious. Even after years of being aboard an ocean ship and being an expert swimmer, Sanjii could have done little to savor his oxygen and now, as he was receiving it all back, he felt his lungs expand and contract quicker than he ever imagined possible.
"I was just…" Zoro spoke dimly, his mind scrambling to remember the actions of his body. It came back slowly, the feel of the cooks' skin on his hand and the scent of fear and garlic in the air. Garlic? Zoro thought confusingly to himself, but then pushed the thought aside and turned back to the furious chef. Did I do that? No, I mean yes. That was me. Wimpy chef needs to get a grip; it couldn't have been that bad. But Zoro couldn't quite convince himself.
"You shouldn't have snuck up on me!" Zoro spat out at Sanjii defensively. Self- Defense and all that crap. Also, I'm pretty sure it's common knowledge even for a dumbass cook like Sanjii to not wake a sleeping swordsman.
"Snuck up on you?" Sanjii repeated with a mocking tone. "A herd of elephants and Luffy could have snucken up on you!"
Zoro's mind drew a blank at a reply, so instead Zoro did what Zoro never does: he ran. Well, not ran, but sulked away with his back turned away from Sanjii. He hissed out the front of his teeth and a deep growl was heard from him. That damn cook. I don't trust him. Zoro thought darkly. Trust him… Ha, I don't even trust myself any more.
Sanjii wobbled up to his feet and sprinted towards the leaving Zoro. "I'm not done with you yet!" But right as the words left his mouth Sanjii froze. Those were almost the same words he had said to Zoro earlier that day.
And just as the words reached Zoro's ears, it only took a flashing second for Zoro to return right in front of Sanjii. His fist cocked out and he plowed it, right into the crevice of Sanjii's nose and cheek.
A sickening crack rang disturbingly through the air as Sanjii was flown backwards by the force. Zoro's knuckle connected with all the force he could muster at the moment and a little trail of blood dripped off of his hand. But Zoro didn't even turn to see his result, for the moment his blow to the cook's face struck; he turned and disappeared down another corridor of the ship.
Sanjii was frozen, in shock and rage, but mainly shock. His hand coddled the bruised indent of his face. He could already feel the swelling begin and the blood rushing to the leaking nose. But Sanjii didn't move, he just let the crimson blood flood out of his nose, pouring with such abundance that it was a surprise he didn't simply pass out. His face stung, hit with not only the force of a grown man, but also with the shock of a comrade and the pain of betrayal.
Sanjii's mouth gaped open as blood drooled off to the side of his face, running like a river down the side of his nose. He watched Zoro depart, not even mustering to say a word. He hit me. Sanjii thought bluntly. He was stunned; his heart pounding and fear overwhelming the feeling of shock.
Cautiously, Sanjii stood up, his head swimming and spinning due to the loss of blood. How do I explain this mess to Chopper? And then like lightning, a horrible thought struck his mind. Luffy. Oh god. This is his crew, his family… How do I tell him?
With that thought echoing in Sanjii's head, the blonde cook stood up and proceeded towards the nearest restroom. He was slumped over, his hands wobbling weakly on his knees as he stumbled towards the bathroom.
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I punched him. Zoro thought. I punched him. He repeated that over and over again, staring down at his massive hands. I wasn't angry at him. No, no, no. But I punched him. But it just felt right. But it was wrong. Even Sanjii doesn't deserve that. Shit, what the hell did I do?
The moss haired man sat in the corner of the ship, hidden by boxes of maps and foods and silence. He was crouched on the floor, his knees curled up to his chest and his arms crossed over. His head was hanging down, drooping into his thighs. Sanjii. Annoying, agonizing, frivolous cook. How many times have I swung at him? Was that anger too? No, never have I actually hurt him. But I clocked him, decked him, square in the kisser. What kind of a nakama am I? I can't protect myself, let alone protect them… But no, I think it's something more. My patience and my strength with this crew, it is wearing thin. What they all see as help, I only see as a hindrance. A burden. Are they holding me back? Am I to concerned about our 'friendship' to prevent myself from going forward? If I can't exceed these pathetic little boundaries, how can I exceed Mihawk?
Zoro saw it, his sword plunged through Mihawks breast, that long awaited blood spilling out as he became the worlds strongest swordsman. But in his image, he was alone. No neighborly Chopper coming up to fix his wounds, nor no Usopp, preparing to boast about how he had once trained Zoro. Nothing. Nobody. But it was what he wanted and he'd swear that the promise he once made was worth more than everything else in the world.
Suddenly, his mind snapped away from his future and returned to his dooming fist. What does it even matter anyways? Everybody on the crew knows I have an issue with that skirt chasing fool. Even ignorant Luffy recognizes that. Luffy.
"Oh God. Luffy." Zoro said out loud. I'm supposed to be his first mate. I'm supposed to be an example, of nakamaship, of strength.
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Sanjii peered around the corner, searching for Zoro. The cook was never one to talk; words would never solve his problems. But he couldn't use force against Zoro. And Sanjii needed to find out what exactly was going on in the scrambled brain of the swordsman.
He meandered around the top floor of the ship, checking rooms and little passages he never paid much attention to. But no green haired man was to be found. Frustrated, Sanjii decided to go to the only place he felt comfortable: surrounded by food. He wandered into the storage room, finding the door already creaked open a tad. Must have been Luffy, stealing some meat again. I wish that he would learn that you can't eat raw meat. Well he can, but that doesn't mean that he should.
Sanjii propped himself up against a box and ruffled his orderly hair with his fingers in frustration. He took deep, wafting breathes, inhaling the scents of possibilities: of spices and meat and vegetables and fruits unseen. Safety tasted as sweet as those foods to Sanjii. He reached up and wiped the drying crust of blood on his face, following with a look of disgust as the red liquid stained his shirt.
"Oh god, Luffy." He heard a voice echo through the food filled room. Sanjii twitched slightly, recognizing Zoro's voice, filled with a softness he hadn't heard that day. In fact, he had rarely heard Zoro speak with such a contemplative tone of voice. Luffy. So we both have the same idea. Sanjii thought. He felt the urge to turn around and find Zoro, but there was something about the eerie silence which held him pressed to the floor.
Zoro let out a huff, sulking down deeper into his position. No. I can't do this to myself. I hit Sanjii, I can't take that back. I did what I thought was right. Luffy does not dictate my morals. Nobody does. He has his ideals and I have mine. That's what separates us.
Sanjii sat quietly, waiting for some other noise to be heard, but he could barely even make out the steady breathing of Zoro. After several minutes, Sanjii decided to leave the swordsman to his peace and got up to leave, trying his hardest to make no noise. He sneaked through the crack in the door and exited, wandering back towards the kitchen.
Zoro slowly felt his thoughts drown out, dripping slower and slower into his mind. Within no time, he was fast asleep with a wrinkled expression on his face and his arms crossed, slouching back into a barrel.
Meanwhile, Sanjii traversed the deck, making his way back to the dining room. Before entering, he inspected himself in a dingy mirror that needed polishing. Through his reflection he could see that the blood had stopped rushing and he had managed to wipe it all off. His cheek swelled up under his eye, sticking out in a firm pocket. Gingerly, he reached his hand up to his felt and felt the pulsing lump- it burned and sore, filled with dense pain.
How do I explain this…? Sanjii contemplated, throwing out options left and right in his head. He could tell them the truth, that Zoro was having a tantrum. But Sanjii knew that would create an uncomfortable tenseness between the entire crew, a feeling of distrust, and would worsen Zoro's anger. He also mulled over the idea of finding Zoro and forcing him to tell the crew, this would keep Zoro safe from any mistrust. Yet, Sanjii knew Zoro was too proud and strong headed to ever admit a mistake. So finally, Sanjii chose the least practical and least believable option. I fell. That's all. Pretend that I had a clumsy moment. Fell on one of Usopps tools lying around. Yeah, that'll work. Damn, that shitty swordsman owes me for this.
So with that lie swirling around Sanjii's head, the unconfident chef headed into the dining room. The scene had not changed much in the short time he had been gone. However, Luffy gave up on mooching Frankie's food and had migrated towards Usopp, who was trying his hardest to sneak food out from the marksman's nose. Which, considering the size of Usopps nose, was a lot harder than it sounded.
Sanjii resumed his seat at the table and not a single head turned his way, with the exception of a raven haired teen. "Did ya find him?" Luffy asked curiously. Sanjii shot Luffy a look, Yeah I found him, but don't you think I would've brought him with me? Instead of voicing his thoughts, Sanjii just shook his head silently and Luffy took that as a sign to dive back into his food.
"Sanjii, what happened to your cheek?" Chopper asked, noticing the swollen lump that had formed on Sanjii's face. Subconsciously, Sanjii's hand bolted to his face before he said "Oh it's nothing. I must've just gotten bruised when I fell looking for Zoro." Chopper tilted his head to the side curiously for a brief moment before accepting Sanjii's answer and dismissing the subject.
But across the table, Usopp sat, his food stolen by Luffy, with his finger rested underneath his nose and a concerned expression on his face. I'm the king of liars. And something just doesn't seem right about what Sanjii said… The long nosed marksman thought. However, his thoughts were quickly interrupted by a shouting ruckus on the other end of the table as Brooke knocked over a cup, spilling liquid all over Nami's precious maps. With the gingers fury igniting and making for an interesting spectacle, Usopps interest in Sanjii waned and his thought took a back seat to the action.
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"I did what I thought was right. Luffy does not dictate my morals. Nobody does. He has his ideals and I have mine. That's what separates us. "
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Authors Note: Longest Chapter I've ever written. 6000 words! That's almost as long as both the other chapters combined… Funny, a few years ago I tried to do Nanowrimo (write a book in a month) and I couldn't even get 10,000. Oh how times have changed. Anyways, once again, I'm very sorry for the long delay. But it's summer so I'm hoping to have a new chapter out somewhat more frequently than every 5 months. Stay with me!