Author's Note: Okay so first of all, the next chapter (chapter 8) will take longer to do since it's been awhile since I've seen One Piece and I really need to watch more of it, so I'm educating myself. Also, I re-watched the Baratie arc so I could remember what the cooks looked like and that sort of stuff, never mind the inside of the Baratie, but to be honest, it was mainly so I could see Sanji's awesome introduction again. So for the past like, 3 days, I've been watching from that point on. I know, it's gonna take a while, but then watching Sanji's departure from the Baratie ... I don't even have words for it. I started to feel like an asshole for putting the cooks in the position they're in, but what's done is done. The entire story hinges on their evilness. Another thing: apparently, the French language isn't as dead as I thought it was. At the end of the chapter, I'll tell you who got it right, but for now, I have a question for you. Before the question, there's a little backstory (because when is there not?). While looking through Zoro and Sanji's profiles, I learnt that if Zoro were actually a human being and not a fictional character (I know, it's sad but true, the best men are always fictional), he'd be Japanese and Sanji would be French. It'd be make sense for a cook to know French, considering the many different recipe names that are in French, but I wanted Sanji to have a moment in which he mentioned being a foreign person and since I know the French language, I chose that foreign place to be France. Now since Zoro would also technically be Japanese and this story is set in Japan (though I realize I've never used honourifics. If you want, I can start to use them and take them into consideration when I edit the older chapters later), I couldn't have him speaking Japanese, now could I? Now here's my question: do you want Zoro to speak more French? Basically, say something to Sanji in French and drive the cook up the wall, wondering what the hell the man's saying? I've also heard that French or Spanish is the "language of love". Funny how Sanji can't understand it, considering he's such a flirt. If I were to do this, there'd be more questions, challenging you to tell me what Zoro said, without using Google translate. Think about it and then tell me in your reviews! Now for the next chapter! I don't own One Piece. Also, my friend called me a "crotch rot" yesterday. Had no idea what it meant. I'm not telling you, you need to look it up.


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 rape


Chapter 7: In The Kitchen With Sanji


The first time Sanji woke Zoro up, Zoro thought the blond was dying.

It was two o'clock in the morning when he heard the screaming and ran out of his room, grabbed Wado from her usual place and rushed into the guest bedroom with his sword raised high, ready to strike. What the green-haired man came across was not an intruder as he had suspected, nor was it a murderer's ghost whom was hovering over the cook in his sleep (hey, it could happen!). What Zoro saw was worse.

Sanji lay tangled up in the sheets, sweat dripping down his forehead. He was kicking and tossing and turning, while at the same time keeping his head and arms tucked into his chest, screaming at the top of his lungs. He wasn't saying anything coherent, it was only a blood curling cry that reminded Zoro of people's last words before the guillotine took off their head.

Zoro approached the bed slowly, keeping his sword raised just in case (after all, maybe Sanji was possessed— what was he thinking? He was spending too much time with his idiot friends). He saw Sanji's face scrunch up in pain, his clothes sticking to his body as the sweat came down. His usually neat looking hair was a mess and falling into his eyes even more than usual.

Zoro reached out to brush aside Sanji's bangs when—

THUD!

Sanji's foot came out of nowhere and smacked Zoro right in the jaw. Zoro fell over, hitting the ground with a loud noise and then the bedside table's lamp was on and Sanji was sitting up in bed, staring down at Zoro who lay on the floor with his sword.

"Are you trying to fucking kill me?" Sanji demanded. "What the fuck are you doing with a sword, Marimo?" he demanded furiously. "And why the hell are you in my room?"

Zoro rubbed the back of his head in pain and sat up on the floor. He didn't remember the wood being this cold. "Me? What the fuck am I doing? What the fuck were you doing, screaming bloody murder?"

Sanji went silent and bit his bottom lip.

Zoro picked himself off the ground and dusted off his pants. He sheathed Wado and felt around his head, trying to see if he was bleeding. Though his jaw hurt, the impact of falling had hurt more. "You kick fucking hard, bastard," Zoro told Sanji with a groan. It stung, but there didn't seem to be any blood. The world seemed a bit unsteady though …

"I was … I was screaming?"

Zoro looked over at Sanji who suddenly looked small. He had pulled his knees into himself and was gripping the sheets tightly. He was … he was shaking. Shit, Zoro had no idea what to do with a shaking man. He hesitantly sat on the edge of the bed and stared at his hands, resting his arms on his knees. Was he supposed to talk in this kind of situation, or leave Sanji to his thoughts? Was he supposed to ask what the dream had been about? Zoro rarely ever had nightmares and it had been so long ago that he had had one, he didn't remember how his mother had comforted him.

Zoro was contemplating whether or not he dared to open his mouth when he felt a sharp kick at his side.

Sanji was out of the covers and sitting in front of him with his legs crossed but there was no doubt that had been Sanji's leg. Zoro had become well aquatinted with Sanji's leg, far more than he was with Sanji himself. There was probably something wrong with that.

"What the fuck, cook?" Zoro demanded, glaring at Sanji.

Sanji was back to gripping the sheets tightly, but he wasn't looking at Zoro. In the dim light of the lamp, Zoro could see that Sanji hadn't only been sweating, he had been crying too. His eyes were red and though Zoro was sure Sanji would deny it, there were tear-tracks running down his face.

"Get me my cigarettes," Sanji told Zoro.

"But—"

"Now, Marimo!"

Zoro wanted to tell Sanji that he shouldn't yell at the one giving him hospitality, but he got up anyway and went to Sanji's blazer. He threw it to him and he watched as the blond took out his cigarette. His hand was trembling as he gripped the lighter and it took him four tries to light the damn thing. The moment Sanji inhaled the smoke, it seemed as though he had calmed down at least a little.

Zoro stood up, about to leave, figuring Sanji had everything under control, when he felt a cold hand on his wrist.

He stopped and turned to see Sanji, stopping him from leaving. He looked like a child who had just tugged on the back of their parent's belt to get their attention, only for the person who turned around not to be their mother or father, but a complete stranger. Sanji let go instantly and turned his head away. "Never mind."

Zoro shook his head. "If you want me to stay, then I'll stay—"

"I said never mind!" Sanji repeated, more forcefully.

Zoro nodded, but he didn't move. Instead, he just sat on the floor with his sword in his lap, waiting. He would leave later, when Sanji was calmer and was able to go to sleep again. At least, Zoro knew that's what he would've liked someone to do had he been in Sanji's situation. Not that he'd ever admit it.

Sanji closed the bedside lamp and laid back in the bed.

Zoro could hear every time Sanji turned on the mattress and it was driving him fucking insane. Part of him just wanted to tie Sanji to the bed and force him to stay put in a single position, but he knew that wasn't what the blond needed. It wasn't long before the cigarette was gone too and the dim glow it cast went out.

"Fuck," he heard Sanji mutter.

There was silence and then—

"Entertain me."

Zoro turned around and looked up at the bed in disbelief. "Excuse me?"

"I said, entertain me," Sanji said slowly, as though talking to a two year old.

"Entertain you?" Zoro scoffed. "How the fuck am I supposed to do that?"

"How am I supposed to fucking know? Do a dance, twirl around, sing a song or something," Sanji said. "Fucking cook me something! I don't care, just entertain me!"

It was then that Zoro realized what Sanji meant.

When he said "entertain" he didn't mean he wanted Zoro to perform tricks for him like some animal from the circus. When he said "entertain" what he really meant was "distract". And if in order to distract him Zoro had to act like a circus animal, Sanji didn't care, he just needed a distraction to get his mind off of that dream he had.

Zoro stood up and dusted off his pants once more before he took Sanji's arm gently and pulled him out of bed.

"What the fuck are you doing?" Sanji demanded, but he followed the green-haired man's lead anyway.

"Entertaining you."

Zoro brought Sanji to the kitchen and flipped on a switch. It was two in the morning, Zoro was tired, but he didn't have a tournament tomorrow so he didn't have to worry about getting up early. He could do this. If the cook needed a distraction, Zoro would give him one. One he could throw himself into entirely and forget the world.

Zoro turned to Sanji and crossed his arms over his bare chest. "Teach me how to cook."

"Pardon?"

There was that "pardon" again.

Zoro frowned. "Don't make me say it again."

"T-teach you how to cook?" Sanji said, staring at Zoro in wonder. "Are you fucking kidding me?"

"You said to entertain you," Zoro replied. "So, are we going to do this or not?"

Sanji thought for a moment. "I need another cigarette," he declared.

Zoro waited impatiently as Sanji went back into the guest room and got his pack of cigarettes, lighting one up. When Sanji had the cigarette placed in between his lips as usual, he began to speak. "What makes you think I can teach you?" Sanji asked. "Marimo is supposed to be cooked, not cook. You're beyond help."

Zoro grit his teeth. "What'd you say, bastard?"

Sanji rolled his eyes. "How am I supposed to teach someone how to cook when they don't even know proper dining etiquette?" He sighed. "It's not that hard either. Itadakimasu. Is that so hard to say?"

Zoro frowned. "Look, I'm doing this for your sake, Curly Brow, so don't try my patience like this!"

Sanji shook his head and tsked, all of his body language saying he thought Zoro was a lost cause.

Zoro crossed his arms. "I have fucking table manners, you ungrateful crotch rot!"

Sanji stared at him. "Pardon?"

There it was again. That "pardon". Though the blond was unpredictable, Zoro knew there were probably some things about Sanji's manner that would never change. "My point is, I know dining etiquette—"

"Prove it."

Prove it? He wanted him to prove it? "What the fuck is that supposed to mean?" he demanded. He tried to do something for the cook and as usual, he just became damn infuriating! A small part of Zoro started wondering whether or not he should've just left Sanji at the Baratie. And by small, he meant not even a microscope could see it. Plus, that small corner of Zoro's brain evaporated about point five seconds later.

"Simple. You repeat after me."

"Huh?"

"Itadakimasu."

There was silence.

The fucking bastard was waiting for him to say. He actually expected Zoro to fucking say it! The nerve of that man! "I'm not going to fucking repeat after you, I'm not a fucking parrot!"

Sanji sighed and turned his back to Zoro. The green-haired man did not miss the mumbled, "hopeless" that came from the cook's mouth.

"Fine, dammit! Itadakimasu. I said it, happy?" Zoro asked, his vision almost turning red. Was this what the blond found entertaining? Driving him up the fucking wall? He was sick and twisted, Zoro decided.

"With more feeling," Sanji pressed.

With more feeling? "More feeling my ass, take what you can fucking get and get over it!" Zoro took a deep breath and tried counting to ten as the anger management therapist had stated. They had only had one session, since the therapist had ran out of the room after fifteen minutes, claiming he wasn't being paid enough to handle him. Zoro's friends claimed it was an April Fools joke. Zoro had checked the calendar. It had been July 29th. Seven. Eight. Nine. Ten. Okay. "Is there anything else you want me to do, sensei?" He tried not to grit his teeth but his jaw was squared and Sanji seemed to find it very amusing.

"Gochisōsama deshita."

What. The. Fuck?

"Excuse me?"

"Gochisōsama deshita. You say it after a meal, Marimo. It's two words, that too much for you, moss-head?" Sanji asked, challenging him with a raised (not to mention fucked up) eyebrow.

"No," Zoro declared. "That's where I draw the line! I am not yours to make a mockery out of! You're a sadistic bastard, that's what you are!"

"A sadistic bastard you decided needed saving," Sanji mused. "I would've been fine on my own."

"Fuck that!" Zoro snapped.

"Look, I don't have to stay here," Sanji said. "I'm not being held here by gunpoint or anything. I could walk out that door and go back to the restaurant any time I fucking want to. Nothing's stopping me. I think I might actually prefer Carne's treatment."

They both knew he was lying through his teeth. He shivered when he mentioned the cook's name.

What a fucking liar.

"Either you say it, or I'm going," Sanji threatened.

They both knew he wouldn't go. It was early in the morning, there was no way it wouldn't look suspicious to have some shirtless guy in a pair of sweats walking down Takeshita Street. His damn lighter would bring too much attention.

Zoro mumbled into his hand, turning away from the cook.

"Pardon? I couldn't hear you."

"Gochisōsama deshita!" Zoro yelled. "There? Was that with enough feeling, shit cook?" Zoro demanded.

Sanji flinched and looked away. He took a long drag, staring out the window above the sink as though lost in thought before sighing and turning back to look at Zoro. "Your table manners leave much to be desired—"

"I said those fucking words already, alright? What the fuck more do you want from me?"

"I was talking about your loud chewing and burping!" Sanji snapped. "Honestly, no one who calls himself a gentleman could have such atrocious manners!"

"I never said I was a fucking gentleman!" Zoro snapped back. He sighed and rubbed his temple. "Look, just teach me, alright?"

Sanji sighed. "Okay, I'll teach you. But if we do this, you follow my rules."

Zoro nodded, vaguely wondering how a demand to entertain placed by Sanji had turned into a cooking lesson for Zoro.

"I'll teach you something simple, how to make onigiri," Sanji explained. "You're in my kitchen now though, remember that."

Zoro wanted to tell him that technically, this was still his kitchen and who the hell was Sanji to act like he owned the fucking place, but he just nodded. "Okay. What do we do?"

Sanji glanced at Zoro's right hand. "You gonna put that away?"

Zoro followed his gaze and his eyes landed on Wado. Right, he was still holding her. That had to be the first time Zoro had ever been unaware of his swords. He shook his head and put her aside carefully, before coming back to Sanji and sitting on a chair lazily. He yawned and was grateful he didn't have a tournament coming up. "Alright, now what do we do?"

"Well what do you think, Marimo? It's a rice ball which means we need …?"

"Why are you looking at me like you're expecting me to finish your sentence?"

"That's because I am, fucking Marimo!"

Zoro nodded. It wasn't his fault it was early in the morning. His brain wasn't truly awake until at least eleven in the morning and sometimes not even then. "Right uh, to make a rice ball you need … rice?"

Sanji gave Zoro a slow, deliberate clap that left the swordsman feeling beyond stupid.

"Look at the brains on this one," Sanji said with a dry laugh. "We need nori as well, bonito shavings and sesame seeds. Do you have all that in your pantry or are we making a two o'clock stop at a convenience store or some other kind of shit?"

"You lost me after nori," Zoro admitted sheepishly. "And no fucking market place in their right mind would be open this time!"

"Where do you think all the pregnant women get their pickle-flavoured ice cream from then, eh?" Sanji challenged him.

Pickle-flavoured ice cream? What the fuck?

Zoro shook his head, ridding himself of the thoughts of pickles dipped in cream. He shivered at the mere thought. "Look, can you use less complex terms? One someone of my caliber would understand?"

"You just used the word caliber and you don't know what nori is?" Sanji sighed. "Then again, you keep using a paring knife when you should be using a butter knife." Sanji shook his head and closed his eyes, as though he couldn't stand to look at the failure Zoro was in terms of kitchen etiquette. "Nori is dry seaweed and bonito shavings are dry fish flakes. Is that simple enough for you, Marimo?"

Zoro glared at him, feeling rather insulted but he nodded. "Yeah, I've got some."

"Great," Sanji said in a voice that sounded far too sarcastic. "We need a mesh strainer."

"A what strainer?"

Sanji sighed. "I'll look for it."

It didn't take long for Sanji to search through Zoro's cupboards and pull out things Zoro hadn't even known he had. It also took the cook perhaps fifteen minutes before he walked around the kitchen like he owned it and Zoro found himself believing his statement of saying that it was Sanji's kitchen now.

Zoro did have a mesh strainer, along with long grain-rice, but they only needed short-grain so Sanji put the other rice aside. As far as Zoro was concerned rice was rice. It didn't change the facts because long-grain or short-grained, Zoro liked rice and that was all that mattered to him, but nooooo, they needed short-grain. He couldn't tell one brand of rice from another. As long as it didn't smell funny, Zoro figured it was good to eat and therefore he reasoned he wouldn't have to worry. When he told Sanji this, the blond stared at him before telling him Zoro couldn't be more wrong. After the first five sentences, Zoro was wandering back to dream-land while Sanji did most of the work.

When the rice was ready, Sanji explained how you had to shape the onigiri and then, after making what he called a "dimple" in it, you put the bonito shavings (they were just fucking dried fish flakes, there was no reason to give them fancy names, the damn fish wouldn't care!) into the space left by the dimple before you carefully closed up the hole left behind and then wrapped it in the nor— fuck it, it was dry seaweed, okay? Zoro wasn't going to use complicated names.

Sanji frowned once he was holding a rice ball. He handed Zoro a knife suddenly.

"What am I supposed to do with this?"

Sanji rolled his eyes. "What do you fucking think, genius?"

For the most part, Zoro had been doing nearly nothing. Sanji got far too into his cooking and had just made the onigiri while lecturing Zoro, who had nearly fallen asleep. The only reason he wasn't snoring at the moment was because watching the blond cook was fascinating. It really was like the kitchen became his battlefield.

"You want me to cut the seaweed?" Zoro guessed.

Sanji sighed. "It's nori—"

"I'll call it whatever the fuck I want, alright?" Zoro snapped, grabbing the knife out of Sanji's hands.

Taking the seaweed, he cut at it as though it were his latest opponent, his cuts sharp and calculated. When he was done, Sanji looked over his shoulder and Zoro heard the faint hiss of a cigarette hitting the counter.

"What the fuck do you think you're doing?" Zoro demanded, grabbing the cigarette and throwing it into the waste. There was a burn on the counter now and though Zoro had never thought much about his countertop, he had to admit he didn't like the sudden dark mark against his otherwise light-wood counter.

"What the fuck is this?" Sanji demanded, pointing towards the chopped up seaweed.

Zoro dusted off his fingers and rolled his eyes. "Seaweed."

Sanji raised an eyebrow at him, though his eyes never left the seaweed, which made Zoro wonder how he could feel Sanji's raised brow without even seeing it. It was probably because those eyebrows were so fucked up.

"Sorry, dry seaweed."

Sanji still didn't look pleased.

"Okay, what's your fucking problem?" asked Zoro. "I cut the fucking slices, I used the fucking knife you told me to and you're looking at me like I did a shit job, so if I did, fucking tell me before I take Wado and slash open your fucking throat!"

Sanji blinked.

"Wado?"

Zoro shook his head. Of course Sanji wouldn't understand his swords, no one understood his swords the way Zoro did. "Never mind—"

"Is that that white katana you had?"

Zoro looked up at the cook in amazement. No one knew that. Well, no, that was a lie. All of his friends knew that, but whenever they first heard of Zoro addressing his swords by name, they'd give him a strange look and ask him if he had been to the doctor's. No one understood immediately that Zoro was talking about his most important treasures. Except Sanji, it seemed.

"Uh, yeah," Zoro said, his throat suddenly feeling dry. He cleared it and coughed, looking away from the cook's scrutinizing gaze. "Look, is the seaweed good or not?"

Sanji bit his bottom lip and nodded slowly. "Yeah, it's good," he said. "It's … it's fucking perfect."

And for some reason, Zoro felt as though Sanji was complimenting him directly on his swordsmanship. Letting out a breath he hadn't known he was holding, Zoro nodded. "Yeah, course it is," he muttered more to himself than to Sanji. "Fucking perfect," he repeated.

That was the first night Sanji showed Zoro how to cook.

It didn't take long for Zoro to learn that Sanji wasn't the best teacher. He would try to explain what he was doing as he was doing it, but then he'd get all wrapped up in it and forget you were there. He would proceed with his cooking as though he were alone, eventually dropping explanations all together and simply humming.

Zoro had never seen the cook so free. It was during those odd morning hours that he learnt more about Sanji than he had ever learnt during those nights at the Baratie.

Zoro's cooking hadn't improved one bit since Sanji had started to "live" with him. It had been a week and Sanji was still having nightmares and Zoro was sure if he tried, he could probably remember the recipe for that special kind of sushi whose name he couldn't remember, but he was far too lazy. Besides, if he was living with such a brilliant cook, why bother trying to make any meals?

The cook didn't understand how it was that Zoro, who was fucking disabled when it came to cooking, managed to slice and dice better than anyone he had ever known, maybe even beating out Sanji himself. Zoro claimed it was because of his swordsmanship. Sanji called it bullshit.

On the occasion, Sanji would bring up the whole "kidnapping" thing, but Zoro knew Sanji didn't care about that anymore. He looked healthier when he was with Zoro, so Zoro figured he was good for Sanji's health. Those cigarettes however …

One night, when Sanji was teaching Zoro how to knead dough, he froze.

"It was them."

This wasn't Sanji's usual babble about ingredients and the temperature the oven had to be set at, nor was it about how stupid politics were. This was … Zoro wasn't sure, but was Sanji sharing with him? Willingly? Without being pressed?

Zoro stayed silent and decided that if Sanji wanted to talk, he would talk. It didn't take him long to realize that forcing answers out of the blond wasn't going to get him anywhere so he just sat there, sitting on his chair with his feet kicked up on the table.

"They were …" Sanji took a deep breath, obviously trying to control himself and his hands went out in front of him on the counter. He bent over, leaning on them, his head down. "They were grabbing at me … pulling …" Sanji's eyes closed and he turned his head away from Zoro. He was trying to sound casual, that much was obvious, but it seemed as though his voice was getting choked up. "They … they were touching me and I didn't want them to … in places I didn't want them to …"

Zoro instantly realized what Sanji was talking about. Was this his nightmare? That memory being relayed over and over again?

He heard a choked sob from the blond. "It was … they were so rough and I … I couldn't—"

"Stop."

Sanji looked up at Zoro in surprised. Zoro could see the beginning of tears ready to fall from Sanji's eyes but pretended he couldn't see them. Sanji would prefer if Zoro couldn't see his weakness, no doubt.

"W-what?" Sanji asked, staring at him.

"I said stop," Zoro repeated. "You're … you're clearly in pain at the memories, so shut the fuck up. My house has become a rehabilitation centre, not some trauma inducing environment, so get your shit together and if you still want to talk to me about it when it doesn't hurt you anymore, then you know where to find me."

Sanji stared at him in shock. "R-really?"

Zoro nodded stoically. The look on Sanji's face made him want to wipe out all of the demons that threatened the cook, but Zoro knew it wasn't his place. At the current moment, all he could do was try to piece the blond back together and help him back onto his feet.

Sanji nodded slowly, as though understanding. "Okay," he said softly. "Oh, and Marimo?"

"What, Curly Brow?"

"Your apartment's shit, you know?"

Zoro shook his head, holding in a laugh.

That ungrateful bastard.


Author's Note #2: The thank-yous and then I'll have a list of the people who were right about what Zoro said.

JustCallMeLucie (x2): Because I didn't answer your first review cause I had already posted the other chapter, I will respond to them both now. I'm really happy that the chapter satisfied you and that you liked it! As for the kidnapping one, "All hail the kidnapping Zoro"? Should I be concerned about your liking of abduction? As for the tasting thing, well I think that since he's a cook, it wouldn't do him any good if he couldn't taste his own food, now would it? Sanji totally loves food (and not in the way that he eats it all the time, that's the way Luffy loves food), it'd be a crime for him to lose his sense of taste.

VictoriaLovesSmut: It was dirty, but probably not in the way you're thinking. I'm not sure how the term "Curly Brow" translates into French, if it's direct or anything, but anyway, I think I should find it strange that all of the people who reviewed didn't think Zoro was a creep for kidnapping Sanji. Devine intervention, I suppose Zoro could've used that excuse too.

Guest: Well uh, thing is, Zoro isn't romantic. At least, not in the traditional, orthodox way one defines the word "romantic". You can call it a fanfiction, but I like to try to keep characters in character, after all, it's those personalities we all fell in love with, right? If Zoro did say something romantic to Sanji, he'd probably be blushing. I feel like Zoro's a prude. Like, a BIG prude.

Guest #2: Um... well, since you only gave me an answer, I guess I can only say thanks for taking the time to review?

Axumi: So here's the deal: yeah, I put the cooks in a bad position, but it's for the sake of a plot. I do not condone abuse, in fact, I think it's awful and writing those scenes made my stomach churn, but when there are scenes like that, I can use vocabulary I usually don't and I can get really descriptive, which I enjoy. I really like writing dialogue too, especially this chapter which was tons of fun. And about HOW Sanji got abducted, well ... you'll see. Eventually.

lilcutieprincess: Thanks! I just felt like I was taking a risk, making Zoro do what he did, but yeah, it was fun. I try to even out the horribleness and the humour, which I hope I'm doing a good job at. I need the angst to move the plot along, but that doesn't mean I can force fluff to be there!

S.P. Tripathi: So does that mean you're checking it out? One Piece, I mean. But of course Sanji and Zoro are interesting, I'd never use boring characters are my main characters. They just have a chemistry that ... I don't even know, it's just cause Sanji and Zoro are pretty matched in terms of who's more powerful in my mind so there's always this constant struggle and they seem like the kind that if they sparred together, the whole world would blow up. I like explosive couples. They entertain me endlessly.

Sekai Roronoa: I LOVE YOUR NAME! But moving onwards, you're French? Interesting. French is my second language, so I'm pretty confident on how I write. Did I use correct grammar? I hate verbs, but they have to exist.

NOW FOR THOSE WHO GOT IT RIGHT: Congratulations to: Guest, Guest #2, Axumi and Sekai Roronoa. Zoro DID say "eat your shit".

ANOTHER QUESTION BEFORE YOU GO: Who's point of view do you like better? Zoro's or Sanji's? (Basically, do you like even numbered chapters (Sanji) or odd numbered chapters (Zoro)?


1st Edit: August 6th 2015