Author's Note: Hello everyone! Okay so I got this chapter finished earlier than I thought and I'm pretty pleased with it. I'm not sure whose point of view I like most, Sanji's or Zoro's, but anyway, I don't own One Piece. To clear up something from the last chapter: Sanji didn't punch Zoro, he hit him in the head with his foot. Zoro states it various times in this chapter. Sorry if I was too vague about that! Any thanks for the reviews are found below. I was so happy that in less than a day, I got 7 reviews for this story! You have no idea how that made my day! Maybe that's why I updated faster. I just really like getting responses to what I write so I know that I did well! Please review, no flames! I love feedback and I would REALLY like to get five reviews for this chapter, if that's possible. This chapter is a lot more tame in comparison to the last one.
Beautiful Disaster
By: Setkia
Full Summary
Sanji is the assistant cook of the world-renowned restaurant, the Baratie, the only restaurant like it in the world. He's a successful chef and flirts with the customers every chance he can get but there's a problem. It's all a facade. The cooks give a new meaning to the word "abusive", both mental and physical. The only thing keeping Sanji alive is his love for cooking and a good ol' pack of cigarettes.
Zoro Roronoa is a swordsman who suddenly has more change in his pocket than he expected and enters the Baratie by recommendation. His waiter happens to be a curly browed man with an adoration for cigarettes. An attempt speak to the head chef goes horribly wrong and he gets sucked into the crumbling world of the chef's, wondering how he can possibly save him and better yet, why does he want to save him in the first place?
WARNINGS FOR THIS CHAPTER: the following things are present in this chapter of Beautiful Disaster:
Mentions of self-harm
Abuse
Swearing (don't even ask why I put it there since this happens all the time. I don't even know why I put it here)
Chapter 5: Don't Need A Reason
There had to be a reason.
Zoro had never racked his brain so hard before, had never found a reason worthy enough for him to give him full attention to it, other than his kenjutsu and martial arts, that is. The cook had never caused Zoro's head to spin so much— in fact, no one had ever caused the swordsman's head to spin as much as the blond had.
Zoro knew Sanji. Or at least, he liked to think he knew Sanji.
The blond was not the type to go around kicking people in the head just because he felt like it. Zoro knew Sanji was sour. He wasn't the happiest person and everything he did felt forced, but that was ordinary everyday Sanji. There had to have been something that had made him crack like that. No one just snapped and kicked someone in the head, same way Zoro didn't just pull his swords out on anyone just cause he felt like it.
At eight thirty, Zoro entered the Baratie as usual.
Instead of the blond, cigarette-smoking cook, he was greeted by a big man in a hairnet. The hairnet looked familiar to him. His name-tag read: "Patty". Was this the person who Zoro had seen hitting Sanji all those nights ago? Why was he out here?
Zoro could understand why Sanji would want to leave the kitchen if people like Patty were there, but why would Patty be out in the dinning hall? He followed the man silently towards his table and sat down, feeling strange.
It just didn't feel right to be served at the Baratie by someone other than Sanji.
"What would you like to drink, sir?"
No Mr. Roronoa. Sanji knew he always ordered water. Sanji knew Zoro's favourite colour was blue. This Patty didn't. When Patty spoke, he had a gruff voice. One that reminded Zoro strongly of an axe-murderer. It wasn't the smooth baritone that Sanji had. There was no smell of nicotine sticking to this man's clothes. There were no golden buttons on his jacket— blazer. It was called a blazer— Sanji was really rubbing off on him, wasn't he?
"Um, pardon me sir, but—" Pardon me? Zoro thought to himself. Dear God, he was starting to sound like Sanji! Shaking off the thought, Zoro tried to get his mind off the blond cook— though considering his next question, the idea seemed pointless. "Where's my regular?"
"Your regular?" repeated Patty.
Zoro nodded. "He's blond, curly eyebrows? Wears his hair so that you can only see one of his blue eyes?"
Patty stiffened. "Ah. Him." He frowned. "That waiter—"
"Cook," Zoro corrected him before he could stop himself.
Patty's frown deepened. "Zoro Roronoa, correct?"
Zoro stared at him. How did this man know his name? Then again, he was all over the newspapers with his recent win. "Yes," he said slowly, cautiously.
"Well, that cook of yours is currently occupied with more pressing issues."
Zoro felt a strong feeling of distrust towards the man. He abused Sanji, Zoro knew that. So why was he serving him? Sanji had something to run from, a reason to be in the dinning hall. Why was Patty here instead of Sanji?
Zoro bit his bottom lip. "I'll have water," he told him, but he felt sick just speaking to a waiter who wasn't Sanji. It was strange. In the many nights he had gone to the Baratie, he had never spoken to anyone other than Sanji. It felt weird, out of place and he didn't like it.
Patty gave him a big, phoney smile and nodded. "Right away sir!"
His smile made Zoro's stomach churn. Sanji was … in comparison to this man, Sanji was a thousand times better. It didn't take a genius to figure it out. While Sanji had a polite, reservedness to him, this man was boisterous and fake. Everything this man did was easily for show, but while Sanji was fake, from his smile to his laugh, he threw in a genuine quip or some kind of something that made him different. Sanji was the only cook who acted this way and Zoro knew that and he wanted it back.
He wanted to hear the strange "pardon" that never failed to come out of Sanji's mouth. He wanted to hear "Mr. Roronoa". He wanted to be ridiculed for thinking about "magic ice cubes". He wanted Sanji to tsk while he took the few bills he had left out of his wallet.
Sanji knew his way of paying, their method they had figured out. This man didn't.
After Zoro ordered his meal, he knew instantly that this wasn't going to end well.
The restaurant had a more tense atmosphere than he'd rather admit and he couldn't help but watch this Patty's every move as he walked around the dinning hall.
He was nothing like Sanji, a fact that Zoro couldn't easily forget.
Sanji would tease him about the menu. Pretend to be overly polite, act as though the restaurant were even more high-class than it already was. He had small habits Zoro had learnt to pick up on. The way he'd use a cigarette only to half of its full extent before switching to a new one. The way Sanji chewed on the tip of the cigar in thought … Zoro had never liked the smell of nicotine but now that it was gone, it felt strange.
Being waited on by Patty was not nearly as pleasant as being waited on by Sanji.
Patty moved like a drunk elephant on roller skates in a skating rink. Each step he took was loud and there was no grace behind it. Sanji had a finesse to his movements. Though they were calculated, they looked natural and he seemed to walk on air. This man suffocated the very oxygen Zoro breathed.
Once his check came, Zoro knew he had a problem. This couldn't end well. Only he and Sanji knew about the arrangement of payment. Since Sanji didn't want Zoro talking about his injuries and the like to others, it was no doubt that he had never discussed Zoro's way of payment with anyone.
"The check, sir," said Patty, handing it over.
Zoro winced, looking down at the bill.
150 00 yen.
Fuck, that's a lot!
"Um, sir," Zoro said slowly, trying to find the right words to speak. "The thing is, there's a bit of a … complication, I suppose I could call it, about my payment." He knew that the abuse Sanji suffered was something that was not to be brought up to the one who abused him, at least not in a restaurant because Zoro had the strong feeling that he would rush back to his car, grab his swords and never be allowed to enter the Baratie again and he needed to be able to. He needed to, or else he couldn't watch over Sanji, the ungrateful bastard. How did he bring up his lack of money to the man without telling him about their deal?
"Complication?" repeated Patty. It was clear that he didn't like that word. "What's complicated about it?"
"You see, my regular and I had a … an arrangement and since I didn't know he wouldn't be here, I didn't exactly come prepared, per se."
Patty got red in the face, his fists clenching. They were large and meaty and Zoro wondered if Sanji was ever struck by Patty's bare hands, which would probably hurt enough to cause his entire body to shatter.
"An arrangement?" Patty had an evil look in his eye. "Oh, I understand. Well, there's nothing I can do about that, is there?" He tapped his chin thoughtfully in a way that looked far too menacing to be legal. "How about you give me what you usually give him and we'll call it fair?"
Zoro didn't feel comfortable handing over the contents of his wallet to this man. He had about 135 00 yen, so he'd be short by about 15 00 yen. It wasn't the worst amount he had ever paid, he always came up short by at least 20 00 yen, so this was a new record but still, he got the feeling the man wouldn't take kindly to being underpaid. Patty reminded Zoro of the kind of people who would ransack the cash register once the boss was gone and then proceed to bathe in their not-so-well-deserved earnings.
Hesitantly, Zoro began to empty out his wallet, not looking at the man. He didn't want to know what Patty's opinion of him was— the nearly broke swordsman spending all of his cash on a meal that hadn't tasted nearly as good as it did when Sanji was around— and he left his money on the table before getting up and putting on his jacket.
"Where's the restroom?" he asked Patty, looking around the restaurant for a way to the kitchen that didn't look so suspicious. He knew Sanji had to be here, he didn't seem like the kind of person who got days off, and if he truly was a cook, then surely he'd be in the kitchen, right?
Patty sneered at him. "Over there, sir. Pleasure doing business with you."
Zoro saw the look in his eye, despite trying to avoid it.
Patty looked pleased at all the money he had spent.
Zoro nodded and headed in the general direction of the bathroom before making a sharp turn to the right and pressing himself against the kitchen doors. He could hear the loud noises of the clashing pots and pans, but he kept quiet. Last time he had come around here, Sanji had been being abused. What would he find this time?
Slowly, he pushed against the doors and the sounds of the kitchen amplified before going quiet.
"Is that—?"
"I think so."
"Heh, Roronoa was dissatisfied?"
Zoro didn't know how these people knew about him or his relation to Sanji, but he blocked them out and instead headed towards a short looking man who seemed to be snickering in joy. "You," he said, pointing at him.
"Me?"
"Yes, you, the cook with the dumb expression on your face," Zoro clarified, but now that he thought about it, everyone in the kitchen looked dumb to him. "Where's the assistant cook?"
The cook leered, his lip curling. "Oi! He wants to know where Shit Cook is!"
"Tell him Carne," one of the other cooks said, "the bastard could use a little breaking in, eh?"
The cook, whose name Zoro figured was Carne, turned to him. "Alright, I'll tell you where your little shit cook is. But let me tell you this first: he ain't as tight as he was before." Carne let out a loud laugh that sent chills down Zoro's spine. He slapped Zoro on the back, before saying, "he's in the backroom," and pushing the swordsman forwards towards what Zoro could only guess was the backroom.
The room had to be for inventory, or at least, it was a very unoccupied room. It didn't take Zoro long to find the blond seeing as he was the only one in the entire area. Around him were large bags of potatoes and other fruits and vegetables, along with flour, sugar and salt. Various other ingredients were around the room in an organized mess.
Zoro could faintly hear the sound of a knife on wood, the chopping of something on a wooden board, probably.
Standing in the dimmest area of the room, he realized Sanji didn't know he was there. He watched the cook's back as his shoulders moved, the rapid sound of the knife on the cutting board echoing through the silent room. This had to be the first time Zoro had ever seen Sanji cook. It was … Zoro couldn't find words for it, but he found that Sanji looked better cooking than any pretty lady on those dumb cooking shows and Zoro could only see Sanji's back!
The chopping stopped and the sound of things being moved met Zoro's ears. Then the ingredients were being put into a giant pot and it was being stirred. He could hear the soup as it bubbled.
Zoro tried to think of what to say to make his presence known. As amazing as it was to watch Sanji cook, he knew he had to let the blond know he was there, but he couldn't find words. For some reason, they were stuck in his throat as the cook moved around the miniature kitchen with ease, as though this were his battlefield the way the ring was Zoro's.
How could he ruin this picturesque moment for Sanji? He could tell from Sanji's posture he was tired. He probably hadn't slept in a few days, or at least, hadn't slept well. Zoro wanted to clear his throat, maybe start off the conversation with a joke, but his wit left him as Sanji continued to stir the soup in silence.
Then—
"Why are you here?"
Immediately, Zoro jumped, surprised. His back hit the wall and some flour which had been on the shelf above him fell, spilling onto the floor. He heard a sigh from Sanji's direction while Zoro tried to stand up, but was too busy coughing, never mind trying to see through the cloud of flour, to be able to.
"Marimo, what the fuck do you think you're doing?"
Zoro felt a hand grasp his and could only comply as Sanji lent him a hand and helped him stand up. It was only for an instant, but Zoro thought he could see faint white lines across Sanji's arm when the sleeve of Sanji's blazer rolled up.
Sanji stared at the spilled flour with a frown. "Such a waste," he muttered under his breath. Then he turned to Zoro. "Is there any reason in particular you're here?"
Zoro wanted to ask Sanji so many things. How had he known Zoro was there? Why hadn't he been in the dinning hall? Was Patty and that Carne person forcing him to stay here? When was the last time he had gotten a full-night's sleep? Was he okay? What had been up with him last night? Why had he kicked him? What was his reasoning? Were things at the Baratie becoming worse? Was Zoro causing problems for him, accidentally? Why had the cooks known about him? What had Carne meant by "tight"? And the biggest question ringing in his mind: what the fuck was going on?
Instead of saying any of these things, he looked Sanji dead-straight in the eye and said, "I'm a valued customer."
Sanji let out a hollow laugh. "How could I forget? My memory must be getting bad."
Zoro shook his head, trying to untie his tongue. "No wait, that's not what I meant. I swear, there's a reason I'm here."
Sanji raised an eyebrow as though to challenge his words.
"It's just … I'm here cause … I mean …"
Fuck, Zoro, it's words, it's not that damn hard!
"What are you making?" he asked instead, wanting to hit himself. This was like asking Sanji about himself all over again. He had a vague idea of what he wanted to say but when he opened his mouth, all the wrong words came out. Fuck, since when was talking so hard?
"Soup," Sanji replied casually.
"Your famous soup?" Zoro asked.
"And if it is?"
This was going nowhere. "Look, why weren't you in the dinning hall?" Zoro asked. When he tried small talk, he failed and when he got to his point, he sounded like some kind of killer, demanding answers from his hostage. Since when was he so fucked up?
"Didn't feel like it," Sanji said, turning away from Zoro and going instead to the pot of soup. He continued stirring it, though Zoro got the strong feeling the stirring was no longer necessary. Especially since the stove had been turned off as of when Zoro fell.
"Don't give me that," Zoro said. "Don't fucking lie to me."
Sanji stared at him with an icy blue eye. "I'm not lying."
Zoro wanted to grab his swords and demand an answer from the blond, but he knew under pressure the cook was probably even less likely to answer him. He couldn't solve every problem using violence, no matter how infuriating Sanji was. What had that kick been? Zoro's brain was still rattling in his skull from it. Where had Sanji learnt to do that?
Zoro met his gaze fiercely and decided that unless he got a firm and concrete answer, he refused to move. "Tell me, why weren't you in the dinning hall? What's going on?"
Sanji bit his bottom lip and turned his head away.
"Look at me!"
Sanji flinched, backing away from him.
Zoro's stomach dropped out from him, feeling as though a bucket of cold ice had just been dumped on him. Had he just raised his voice? The way Sanji was backing towards the hot stove, his fingers dangerously close to touching it, made him freeze. Did Sanji prefer being burnt than talking to him?
Zoro shook his head. He had to do this right. He had no idea how to act around Sanji at the moment. To treat him like a wounded animal would be an insult to his pride, obviously, but to say things carelessly as he just did would help him make no further progress than if he treated Sanji like an ordinary person he met on the street. Sanji wasn't just some stranger, he was someone whom Zoro had come to care for, in his own, strange way. He cared for Sanji as much as a swordsman can care for a cook whom they blackmailed— probably a bit more than that, now that he thought about it.
"I'm sorry," Zoro said. "I just … my friends say I have some anger issues. Look, I don't want to hurt you, I just want to talk—"
"Because you're clearly doing so well with that," Sanji snapped.
Zoro hated to admit it, but the blond had a point. "Let me start over then, okay? I just want—"
"Why do you care?"
Zoro stared at Sanji, open-mouthed.
The look in the cook's eye was … Zoro couldn't describe it other than it felt like looking at a cracked glass. No, more like bruised glass. An ice rink after plenty of hockey players had skated across it, the blades each leaving jagged lines, firm and smooth, but rough and harsh at the same time. Like a zamboni was gliding across the rink in an attempt to repair it and relieve all of those faint scars to make the rink anew, and it broke down half-way through the job. Like the world wouldn't let the ice start fresh, like the ice didn't want to start over.
Faint white scars …
Zoro grabbed Sanji's arm. His grip was tight enough so that Sanji couldn't escape, but he made sure his hands weren't too rough when he pulled Sanji's left arm towards him. Pulling up the cook's sleeves, he stared at what he saw.
An assortment of jagged lines, white and faint— but no. There was a nasty red one that was longer, sharper and more recent.
"What the fuck?" Zoro demanded, letting go of Sanji's arm.
Sanji turned away from him and pulled down his sleeve harshly, so much so that the shirt was tilted and threatened to fall off his left shoulder. The extra fabric was fisted in his hand and his eyes were downcast. "It's nothing."
"It's not fucking nothing," Zoro said. "Are you …" Zoro lost his voice, staring at Sanji. His throat was dry and he couldn't seem to muster up words, couldn't find the strength to do it. "Did you do this to yourself?"
Sanji lifted his head up towards the ceiling, avoiding Zoro's eyes. He seemed to be counting the cracks in the ceiling tiles and Zoro felt as though he might die, having an idea of Sanji's answer.
"And if I did?"
Zoro shut his eyes tightly to stop himself from doing something rash. He took a few deep breaths, trying to cool himself down. How could Sanji …? Was life so meaningless to him? "What does your life mean to you?" Zoro asked him finally, opening his eyes. "If that cut had been just a tad deeper …" Zoro trailed off, not wanting to think about it.
Sanji rolled his eyes. "Like that matters—"
"It does so fucking matter!" Zoro told him.
Sanji backed away from him when Zoro's voice raised, but Zoro took his arm before he could get very far. He made sure his grip was light and he wondered what kind of pain Sanji had suffered to help pull him off the floor. Zoro ran his other hand through his hair and took another deep breath.
"Fuck, Sanji you can't just … what?"
The cook was looking at him strangely, as though he had dropped out of space.
"You …" Sanji licked his lips dryly and Zoro's eyes followed his tongue as it moved across those cracked lips. Each move seemed deliberate and slow, as though it was trying to drive him insane but he knew the cook couldn't possibly know what he was doing. Hell, Zoro didn't even know what was happening. "You said my name."
He had?
Zoro thought back and realized that the cook was right. He had called him Sanji.
"So?" Zoro asked curiously. He had been pressing the cook for over a month to call him by his first name, what was the big deal in Zoro calling him by his?
"You've … you've never done that before," Sanji said, sounded dumbstruck, as though he was still in shock.
Again, the cook was right. Funny. If Zoro had been pressing Sanji to call him by his first name, shouldn't he have been calling Sanji by his first name to encourage a first-name basis?
Oh well. What was done was done. There was nothing Zoro could do about it.
"SHIT COOK!"
Sanji's eyes widened. "You have to go," he told Zoro.
"What? No! I'm just starting to make a break through here—"
"No, you have to go," Sanji insisted. He began to push at Zoro's back, trying to get him to move but the swordsman stood still. He wouldn't move so easily. Years of being in the fighting ring had taught him the proper stance that allowed him to keep his footing and he'd be damned if some cook was the one who made him lose his concentration.
"We still need to talk," Zoro insisted, "there are so many things you still haven't told me and—"
"That can wait for later," Sanji told him, "right now you have to go!"
"It can't wait till later," Zoro said, "later you won't want to talk to me like this and I'll have to start all over! I'm not moving—"
"Zoro."
Immediately, Zoro froze. His concentration slipped at the sound of his first name coming from the lips of the cook. He stared at him, dumbstruck himself.
"Zoro, please."
Zoro didn't even acknowledge that he was being pushed out the door until he was back in the main kitchen and the loud sounds of cooking met his ears. He could see the large man, Patty, walking in through the large swinging doors and immediately, he crouched himself low, trying to hide in a corner. There was something more going on here, something Sanji wasn't telling him and he had to find out. If this Patty person realized he was in the kitchen, Zoro got the strong feeling he'd be forced out so he had to stay hidden until he saw Patty enter through the doors to the backroom.
Zoro rushed to the backroom and kept his ear pressed against it. He wasn't supposed to eavesdrop, that much was obvious and he didn't want to know what his friends would think if they knew he was doing this, after all, he was usually the one telling them to stop being idiots, but Sanji had him doing all kinds of strange things he had never imagined himself doing.
"—on the floor?!"
That was Patty, there was no denying that nauseating voice.
"Sorry."
That was Sanji. He sounded defiant, sarcastic. That was the Sanji Zoro knew.
"What'd you fucking say?" demanded Patty. "Are you mocking me?"
"No." This time Sanji sounded solemn.
"So I'll ask you again, who spilt the fucking flour?"
Zoro's blood froze. Was Sanji going to get in trouble over something that was Zoro's fault? He wasn't sure he could stomach that.
"Take a guess," came Sanji's response.
"I guess it was the shit cook!" Patty spat.
There was silence.
"Don't roll your eyes at me! Know your fucking place. What, you think it could've been someone else? Has anyone else been back here?"
Silence.
And then—
"No."
"So?" pressed Patty.
"I did it."
"Exactly."
SMACK!
Zoro flinched at the mere sound. He heard a slight whimper which was stopped half-way through, probably Sanji biting his lip to keep himself quiet.
"You know who I served today?"
Silence.
"I'll tell you who. It was that fucking Roronoa. The bastard though he could pay me and I wouldn't notice the 15 00 yen he was missing! He said you had an arrangement. You give him a good blowjob as long as he gives you all of his money? Is that your 'arrangement'? Is that how it works, you fucking slut?"
Sanji said nothing but Zoro felt sick.
The cooks, they thought …
Suddenly, what Carne said made more sense to him.
He ain't as tight as he was before.
Which meant … No. No, no, nononono!
Zoro felt his stomach churn. Sanji wasn't the type of guy who— but that only made the facts worse. If Sanji wasn't the type of guy to go around sleeping, then that would mean that they had …
BANG!
Against his will, Zoro's hands moved without his consent. They fisted and slammed against the backroom door, harshly. His knuckles got splinters and he could fell the smallest trace of blood trickle down his fingers. This couldn't be happening. Sanji's attitude the night before made sense now. The pain, God the pain Sanji had been through … and that look on his face when Zoro had tried to start over—
"Why do you care?"
The way he had said it had made Zoro feel cold all over. It was as though Sanji had thrown words at him that Zoro hadn't been expecting, as though Sanji had intended to cut him without a knife. Why did Zoro care? Why did he care? He fucking cared because— fuck, he couldn't think of a reason.
Fuck that, I don't need a fucking reason.
The damn bastard clearly wasn't going to help himself out of this mess, despite the fact that it looked like he was living in hell. If the idiotic cook wasn't going to save himself, then Zoro was going to do it for him and he wasn't going to take no for an answer.
Author's Note #2: Now for the thank-yous!
Guest: I always try to make my readers feel something with my words, so I'm pretty happy that I conveyed Sanji's emotions well. I mean, sorry that it was depressing, but I guess I'm happy that using words alone I was able to make someone feel something. Thank you for your review!
lilcutieprincess: I hope the way that Zoro found out was satisfying for you, and thank you for reviewing! And, just to reiterate, Sanji didn't punch Zoro, he kicked him.
Guest #2: Am I just skilled at making others depressed? I don't know, I pride myself in being able to write different genres, able to write humour as well as I can write angst and with a story like this, you can't really expect there NOT to be angst. I hope though that my dashes of humour keep you entertained.
a1wonder50: I know this kinda sucks, but uh, everyone cook in the kitchen is into the idea of abusing Sanji. Yeah, they're all bastards.
S.P. Tripathi: Hey old friend! So I AM working on that story for you, but because I have so much of this story planned out (like, 26 chapters), I figured I'd work on this a little. Anyway, I was wondering, do you even know the animes that these are based of off? Because it seems to me as though you read everything I write (NOT THAT THAT'S A BAD THING!), regardless of whether or not you know the fandom. It's just that knowing the fandom helps a little in certain times of context. I've never written a scene like that one before so though I'm sorry everyone seemed to feel incredibly depressed by it, I'm glad that it got everyone to feel the emotions I was trying to convey.
Vicky: Well, Zoro noticed so I guess that means points to him, huh? Anyway, I hope you liked this chapter!
JustCallMeLucie: I'm really happy you liked it! Or at least, that you find it worth reading on with. I've always liked the idea of helping fix something that's broken and from the way the cooks pretended to treat Sanji during the Baratie arc, it just set him up as being the victim, though I think Zoro would make an interesting person if he acted like a kicked puppy. I hope this chapter pleased you!
1st Edit: August 6th 2015
