Author's Note: Before I apologize for this chapter's ridiculously small length, I want to address a review that came to me for chapter 3. I'm not sure if this person's still reading, but judging by their review, they're not. It's pretty simple what the review said. That this story was ridiculous because Sanji would never be this weak, that this story doesn't actually have Sanji in it because there's no way the ass-kicking cook could ever be beaten by the cooks and that this is not fanwork, this is an insult to One Piece. So I'm going to tell you this: this story is an AU, the characters have been altered slightly. The summary of this story warns that much, talking about abuse. The rating is M, there are warnings above chapters that need them. If you don't like this kind of story, then don't read it. It's pretty simple. I personally am a fan of One Piece. I like it, I think it's funny, creative and that the author's a genius. If to others this fanfiction seems like it's tearing apart One Piece and you don't like it, fine. It's not for everyone. This story has a mature rating and puts the characters in different settings they would never be in normally under the original One Piece story line. If people aren't fans of AUs, then don't read this. But I take pride in what I write, I like to think it's good and I know for lots of people putting their work on here is hard. It's hard for me. It means you're letting others criticize your work and see what you've done and get their opinion on it. Posting this story was very scary for me because I haven't seen much of One Piece. I will admit this: I'm not even the 100s of the show yet. Yes, I am that inexperienced in this fandom. But I came up with a story that I thought some would appreciate and so I wrote it. I decided to post it, despite the fact that rarely have I ever written something like this. I don't usually write abuse stories, nor do I write suicidal stories, but this story is the exception. For me it took a lot of courage to post this story and to continue writing it. I'm sorry if you don't like it, no one's forcing you to read it though. Don't torture yourself with my stuff if you hate it. But to tell me that my story is an insult and not fanwork, that hurts. Because honestly, anyone who posts in this archive and does not label it as "crack" is submitting something to show how much they like this series. I don't think you need to be that harsh, personally. So here's the deal: if you don't like it, don't read it. It's very simple. But don't go around telling people they're insulting a fan-base because they worked up the courage to let the world see what they write because for me, writing is very personal. It reveals a lot about me, in my opinion and I have a very distinct writing style (as my friend claims), but I rarely get praise for it. I'm happy people are enjoying this story, but if you insult my writing by calling it an insult, you're insulting me. And I don't think that's fair to anyone.
On a less depressing note, the things Sanji says in this story are based purely on fiction and therefore, I dunno, I just wanted him to turn out this way. I do not own One Piece, Rurouni Kenshin or Samsung. Thanks for the reviews will be found at the end. Now I will say it: SORRY THIS IS SO SHORT! Also, the reason why Sanji doesn't have an iPhone, it's a personal policy of mine that no character I have control over (or temporary control for the sake of fanfiction) shall own an iPhone! They're too mainstream (and I say this while begging my dad to give me his old iPhone)!
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: the following things are present in this chapter of Beautiful Disaster:
Mentions of rape (very vague), self-harm
Suicidal thoughts
Chapter 12: Something To Treasure
It was raining. Of course it was fucking raining the one day that Zoro let Sanji go out on his own, without someone looming over him like he was some criminal on parol, to get the groceries. Fucking fantastic.
Sanji pulled his blazer tighter around him and grit his teeth. Was the cosmos trying to tell Sanji that he was never going to be allowed to leave the shit apartment on his own? Honestly, karma sucked.
He quickly found a phone booth and scurrying inside, he shut the door behind him. Feeling into his pockets, he tried to find any loose change he may have. Of course, his hands were fucking freezing and felt as though they were turning numb. It was September, why was it raining in September? Wasn't it supposed to rain in April? April showers bring May flowers and all that shit?
With a sigh, Sanji managed to pull out enough money and put it through the slot. He lifted a finger to dial the apartment's number when he realized something.
He had no fucking clue what the number was.
Shit.
"Fucking bastard, never telling me anything," Sanji muttered under his breath. God, I'm going to kill Zoro when I get home.
Sanji froze. Home? Did I just think home? Shit, no, it's not a home, it's a shit apartment with shitty electricity and shitty Internet connection. It's a shitty apartment with a shitty roof and a shitty swordsman— fuck, I've seen him in a kendo match, I can't call him a shitty swordsman with no actual basis for it! Wait a minute, I can do whatever I fucking want, he's not the fucking boss of me! There was a brief pause in Sanji's thoughts. I swear a lot, don't I?
Pressed up against cold glass, feeling as though he was certainly going to get hypothermia, Sanji waited. He was patient, he could wait.
And wait. And wait.
Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock. Tick—
Fuck it!
Sanji took his cigarette out of his pocket and lit it up. The warmth from the lighter sent pleasant shivers down his spine. His hair was damp and so were his clothes. Sanji hated the feeling of sticky clothes. He lit his cigarette once more, letting the warmth fill the small confines of the booth. He placed one of his hands closer to the lighter for the sake of heat, wondering why he didn't use matches. If he did, he could've probably warmed up both of his hands. He felt his skin prickle at the feeling of the sudden warmth and sighed in contentment.
A clap of thunder boomed overhead and Sanji instinctively pressed himself up against the glass as though bracing himself for another painful blow from the cooks.
Zoro could help distract him, that he could admit, but no one, regardless of whether or not they were the green-haired swordsman, could make him forget.
The lighter ran over his left thumb by accident as he collided with the glass. The burning sensation was nothing new, he had burnt himself several times in the kitchen when he was younger out of carelessness. And a few times that had not been so absent-minded. He closed the lighter and plunged in the cold, feeling it in his bones. Fuck, he was freezing.
He could light up his lighter again, just for the sake of warmth. Yeah, he could do that.
His thumb burned a little, felt a little sore, but there was no blood, just a mark. Another mark amongst many. What did it matter to have another? If he was already broken, bruised and scarred, nothing could possibly taint him more. His body's system was filled with nauseating chemicals from the cigarettes, his body itself was covered in scars— self-inflicted and otherwise— certain parts of him bruised worst than others, he knew he had no depth to himself. There was no reason to try and preserve it.
In a phone booth in God-knew-where of Tokyo, no one would know. Maybe they could assume he was just struck by lightning? After all, feeling nothing at all was better than being hurt, wasn't it? Failed attempt after failed attempt had gone wrong and what did he have to live for anyway?
He had no parents, no family. The cooks hated him and probably thought he was dead at this point. Zeff didn't seem to be coming back all that quickly. What was there for him?
"One more," Sanji said. He took a deep breath. He didn't know what he expected Zoro to say, he really didn't. He already classified his friends under a category of "idiots", but all the same, once his breath was out, he managed to speak. "Nakama."
Zoro stared Sanji straight in the eye. "You."
Zero point ninety-six seconds.
"What the fuck?"
Zoro smirked. "See how confusing that is?" Zoro threw his hands up in the air. "Don't ask me explain, cause I can't, but when you say nakama, I think of you. Apparently, we both think of each other. Not like it matters or anything," he added quickly.
Wrong. He was wrong. There was something more.
The past two months hadn't felt real, not at all. Going to that club, Partys, was insane. He hadn't even known he could beat someone up that badly! It had been amazing and it wasn't as though he hadn't noticed Zoro watching his every move. Luffy had said he was quite good and Sanji had even been invited there again! He hadn't felt guilt from beating Luffy up either. It had been a different kind of fight from the ones he had with the cooks, it was one where they were both equal and the whole point of it was to simply see who was stronger, not to break the other down. Sanji had thought he was too far gone in his life to have a life-defining moment, but he felt as though he had had it in that bar. In that old time, rusty looking bar with those idiots whom Zoro called "friends" and he had had more fun than he'd ever dare to admit.
He had felt … free.
Besides, Sanji reasoned, shutting the lighter. Zoro's quitting, I can't have him recovering before me, can I?
The idea of a competition against the swordsman sent fire through Sanji's veins. He wasn't even sure why. Maybe it was because of the way Zoro did everything passionately and fully, the way he was never half-assed, no matter how lazy he was. If he thought Luffy needed chewing out, he'd do it, yelling, screaming, uvula waving and all. If he thought Nami ought to stop gambling, he'd have a stern talk with her until that talk was imprinted in her mind, nagging her every time, even if it didn't do anything to change her habits. If Zoro wanted to save someone—
Sanji stared at the falling rain. Was that what his relationship was with Zoro? Was it not really the captor and captive story he had worked up in his head? Maybe it was … saviour and rescued?
Did … did Zoro save me?
Sanji tried to think of where he'd be about this time if Zoro had taken him from the Baratie.
Patty would be screaming at me to get to work, I'd have tried to get out of the kitchen again and served Zoro, then gone back and gotten a beating. They'd probably have … done it again …
Sanji shivered and recoiled at the mere memory.
But what if he had never met Zoro? Would they have not done that? Sanji shook his head. No, they probably would've, regardless if the swordsman had ever became a nightly client. They'd find a reason so that their twisted minds thought what they were doing was justified.
That just made Sanji repeat the same question once more.
Did Zoro save me?
During the two hours that it took the storm to wear down, Sanji still couldn't find an answer he was satisfied with.
"Oi! Marimo! Open the damn door!"
It was one o'clock in the morning, Sanji knew. His cigarettes were soaked, which meant he'd need new ones, no doubt. Another thing he realized that in all of days or rather, weeks of living with Zoro, the bastard had never given him a key to the apartment. Did he just assume that Sanji would stay inside forever and never need a way in?
The door opened and he was greeted by the face of an angry green-haired gorilla. No, wait, that was Zoro.
"DO YOU HAVE ANY IDEA WHAT FUCKING TIME IT IS?" he demanded, his eyes narrowing, his jaw set. He seemed mad. No, beyond mad, he was livid. "YOU THINK YOU COULD AT LEAST CALL TO TELL ME YOU'D BE BACK LATE, BUT NOOOO! MR. TOP-NOTCH COOK CAN'T DO THAT, CAN HE?! TOO MUCH OF A BOTHER IN HIS NIGHT, ISN'T IT?"
There was the sound of another door opening and Sanji turned around to see a nearly bald man grumbling. He wore a bathrobe and slippers. He sent a glare in Zoro's direction. "It is not the time to be hollering like a hooligan!" he snapped at Zoro. "Take your lover's quarrel inside and let us get some sleep!"
With that, the man slammed the door behind him.
Sanji hurried himself inside while Zoro slammed the door shut behind him. He couldn't have been louder if he tried. With his arms crossed and his mouth set in a thin line, Zoro almost looked scary. Keyword: almost.
"Sit," Zoro commanded, gesturing towards the couch.
Sanji sat, trying to hold in his laughter.
Zoro began pacing back and forth in front of Sanji, mumbling under his breath, sometimes random words, sometimes curse words. Regardless of what they were, they only added to Sanji's amusement.
"I'm going to try and be rational here," Zoro said in a tone that screamed he was trying not to yell. "Now, I understand that it was raining, I get that. But I just asked you to get the groceries. I expected you back by nine and instead, you came back at one. I had to order take-out. Fucking take-out." Zoro shook his head. "I forgot how bad that shit is compared to your cooking." Sanji said nothing about the compliment Zoro had just given him. "It's late, I'm tired, you're drenched and need to take a shower. I doubt you had food so there's some food on the counter which I didn't eat," Zoro gestured. "I'm going to go and sleep tonight and we'll talk about this in the morning. The only thing I'll ask of you is that next time, you call when you plan on walking in so late."
Sanji bit his lip.
"What?" Zoro asked. His fists were curled and his knuckles were white in an attempt to behave and he was wearing holes into the floor. "You have something to say, Curly Brow?"
Sanji needed no other invitation. "You didn't give me the shit-apartment's number."
Zoro stared at him.
"Huh?"
"You. Didn't. Give me. The shit-apartment's. Number." Sanji spoke slowly and deliberately, like the way he had told Zoro his favourite colour. He didn't give a damn what other people said, just because a colour was defined by the amount of light absorbed into one's pupil didn't mean that black wasn't a colour. Just because it had no light, that didn't make it any less of a colour than white.
"WHAT?!"
There was a knock on the door, probably another neighbour complaining but Zoro spun on his heel, opened the door and screamed, "WE'RE HAVING A FUCKING CONVERSATION, MIND YOUR OWN FUCKING BUSINESS!" and promptly slammed the door in their face.
"I believe that was the landlord," Sanji said.
"Who gives a fuck?"
"I tired to call you know, but while in the telephone booth I came across the realization that you didn't trust me enough to give me your number," Sanji told him. "So technically this whole predicament is your fault."
"My fault?" Zoro repeated. "My fault?"
"You know, you tend to repeat things when you're angry," Sanji noted. "Reiterating things gets kind of annoying, don't you find?"
Zoro slammed his fist down on the table and Sanji didn't even blink. He had seen worse fights at the Baratie, Zoro didn't scare him. "How the fuck is this my fault? Why didn't you call the 119 number to get mine?"
"Because I only had so much loose change on me after spending so much because your fridge is fucking empty, that I could only make one call!"
Zoro stared at him. "You tried to use a phone booth?"
Sanji nodded.
"Why the fuck were you using a phone booth?"
"Because," Sanji said, exasperated, "I don't have a cell phone."
"YOU DON'T HAVE A CELL PHONE?!"
Sanji sighed once more. Even if Zoro didn't scare him, he would be the reason Sanji would lose his hearing at such a young age. "Yes Zoro, I don't have a cell phone. The bastard cooks never gave me one," he said. "There was never any reason for me to own one. I used the phone at the Baratie and the only time I really left the place was to go grocery shopping or to buy more cigarettes. I didn't have a reason to have my own phone." He stood up and took off his blazer. He was soaked to the bone, Goddammit. "Now if you don't mind, I'm going to take that shower you mentioned."
Zoro shook his head. "Stop!" he commanded.
Sanji froze and turned to him. "Was that an order?" Sanji asked. "You are not the boss of me, you understand that, don't you, Marimo?"
Zoro shook his head once more, looking more and more frustrated by the minute. He pulled at his hair and took a deep breath, probably counting to ten from the way his fists were clenching. "Give me a second," he told Sanji, "just give me a second before you go prancing off into your shower."
"Prancing?" Sanji repeated. "I never said anything about prancing."
Zoro sighed, closed his eyes and breathed in through his nose, out through his mouth. Was he … meditating? Then again, the Internet had said that Zoro liked meditation. Yeah but 60 percent of the Internet is porn, 30 percent is cat videos and 10 percent is lies.
When Zoro opened his eyes again, it looked as though he had come to peace with his inner-self. Or, as peaceful as you can get when you're in the embodiment of anger itself. "Okay. You don't have a phone. I can fix that," he muttered more to himself than Sanji. "Tomorrow we're going shopping."
"What? Why?" Sanji demanded, looking alarmed.
"To get a phone, why else? Now close your mouth, take your shower and go to bed, I'm going to collapse."
Sanji was never a fan of crowded places. At least, not crowded places that weren't the Baratie. He wasn't used to them. With a sigh, he eyed the crowded store. There were people of all ages, men and women, walking around. Some were in the camera department, others in the TV. All Sanji wanted was to be back in Zoro's apartment with the stupid remote in hand, maybe catch Rurouni Kenshin. Probably not though, since Zoro insisted he needed a phone.
"Look, it's not that big of a deal," Sanji insisted. "Can't we just leave?"
"No," Zoro said. "I need to be able to reach you at all times—"
"So what? You just stick a GPS in my hair and get it over with," Sanji snapped. "Is a phone really necessary?"
"At this stage in the twenty-first century? Yes."
Sanji sighed. "Fine," he grumbled. Looking around the store, his eyes settled on a phone.
"How about this?" Zoro asked, holding up a phone. Reading the label on the stand, Sanji knew it was a Samsung Galaxy S6. It looked like an iPhone really, at least to his eyes.
"Yeah, sure," he told Zoro with a shrug. "I don't really care."
"Clearly you don't," Zoro replied.
After they walked around for a while, Zoro still clinging onto the Samsung, the green-haired swordsman turned to Sanji.
"Hey I was wondering," he said slowly. "Where'd you learn to fight?"
"Where'd you learn to fight?" Sanji asked, raising an eyebrow to challenge Zoro's question.
"A dojo," he replied. "One run by my friend's father."
Sanji nodded. He wanted to ask which friend, but thought that perhaps, judging by the look on Zoro's face, he'd best not.
"I answered your question, you answer mine," Zoro told him.
Sanji sighed and shoved his hands into his pockets. "I don't know," he admitted. "I mean sure, the cooks beat me up pretty badly, but I never really … fought back, you know? I mean I tried to every once in a while, but before anything could happen, I was thrown across the kitchen and then Zeff intervened."
Zoro looked at Sanji. "Who's Zeff?"
Sanji paled. He didn't even know why. It wasn't a crime for Zoro to know more about his past, but it hurt Sanji remembering it. Sanji shook his head, hoping Zoro would forget he had even mentioned Zeff's name. "And anyway, I was never in a position to attack. They always got me first. Would you believe me if I told you that night at the Baratie was the first time I had ever kicked someone in the head?"
"No, I wouldn't." His eyes still held a question, probably about Zeff, but he seemed as though he wouldn't ask it. "So you've seriously never been taught to fight before?"
"Nope," Sanji replied. "Watched the cooks fight a lot though," he admitted.
"You just … I dunno, you looked so composed fighting Luffy, I figured—"
"I was some tough, ass-kicking delinquent?" Sanji shook his head. "No gangsters in my childhood, only lunatic chefs."
Zoro nodded. "I was wondering, when you fight, you have this habit …" he trailed off.
"What?"
"Do you know that you keep your hands in your pocket?" Zoro asked. "Because you never use them when you fight. Ever. Luffy threw punches and you just dodged them. You never raised a fist. Not once."
Sanji smirked. "Didn't know that," he said. "But it makes sense, I suppose."
"What do you mean?"
"Think about it this way; when you're a soccer player, you have to avoid injury to your legs and feet. You need to protect the organs and/or limbs that are necessary for you to continue doing what you love, right?" He shrugged. "Same goes for cooks. You can't cook if you damage your hands."
"True," Zoro pointed out. "So that'd be like if a swordsman harmed their hands, wrists or arms, right? They need them to fight."
"Exactly," Sanji said. "Guess it's instinct or something, to keep my hands out of the fight."
"But you use your feet to fight," Zoro replied.
"Yeah, how else am I suppose to fight? Using only my torso?"
Zoro nodded slowly. "I get it. So you treasure your hands, don't you? They're very important to you and special."
"You love sword-fighting, right? You treasure your swords," Sanji said. "I'm a cook and I love being in the kitchen. I treasure my hands."
There was silence between the two of them. A comfortable one, when Sanji saw a woman come up behind Zoro and tap him on the shoulder.
The marimo flew a foot in the air, turning around sharply and glaring at the girl. "What?" he demanded.
Sanji frowned. "You're being rude to a lady," he told him. He gave the woman an apologetic smile. "I'm sorry for my friend, he's just an ass."
The woman giggled and nodded, a blush appearing on her cheeks. She looked away from them, trying to compose herself before she turned back and gestured towards the phone in Zoro's hand. "Are you going to purchase that?"
Zoro followed her gaze. "Right, yeah, this." He nodded. "Yeah, we'll take it."
Sanji frowned. "Hey, I never agreed on—"
"I said. We'll. Take. It."
Sanji sighed, rolling his eyes. "If you could lead us to the cash Miss, that'd be wonderful," Sanji said with another false smile her way.
She giggled and lead them towards a man who stood behind the counter. He looked at Zoro and Sanji before frowning. "So uh, who's paying?" he asked.
"I am," they both said at the same time.
"You don't even want the damn thing," Zoro reminded him.
"Yeah, but you're broke," Sanji said.
"It's not my fault your restaurant's so fucking expensive!" he snapped back.
"I didn't ask you to come!"
The man looked between the two of them, probably wishing he had finished college so he wouldn't be stuck with this miserable, lousy job. "Well, you two could split the bill," he offered shyly.
"NO!" both of them yelled in unison.
"Okay," the cashier said, shrinking into the shadows, slightly terrified of the two.
"Look," Sanji said in a huff, "I have money, I'm paying. If you want, you can pay the tax, okay?" Sanji offered.
"You're telling me you have 60 000 yen on you right now in cash? That has to be illegal!"
Sanji sighed. "The phone's more like 70 000 yen," Sanji said. "You can pay the other 10 000 yen and the tax, does that satisfy you?" he asked.
"Just let the man pay," the cashier said, desperate to have the two of them leave the shop immediately. They were scaring the other customers.
"What, does that make me a girl?!" Sanji demanded. "Let the man pay," he snorted. "Yeah right!"
"You are rather feminine," Zoro said.
"TAKE THAT BACK, YOU BASTARD!"
Sanji sighed and ran his fingers through his hair. "Look, here's some money," Sanji said, handing over a few wads of bills. "Whatever I didn't pay, let the marimo pay," he added. "This should only bruise his ego slightly rather than being kicked out of the place."
Zoro sighed and crossed his arms. "Fine, but next time, I'm paying."
"I'm not your fucking boyfriend, you don't have to pay for me," Sanji snapped.
Zoro looked taken aback by the word "boyfriend". He blinked. Once. Twice. Thrice.
"WHAT THE FUCK?!" he demanded. "I'm not your fucking boyfriend—"
"That's what I just said," Sanji told him, exasperated. He turned to the trembling cashier. "Just wrap it and we'll go."
The man behind the cash had never been more glad that customers had left the store.
"I wish you had just let me pay," Zoro muttered. "And let me drive my own car," he added.
"You'll get lost," Sanji shot back.
"I will not! It's my apartment!"
Sanji shook his head. "It's a shit apartment and you'd get lost before you even got out of the fucking parking lot and you know it." He looked to the passenger seat to see Zoro playing with Sanji's new phone with interest. Sanji grabbed it out of his hand and glared at him. "What do you think you're fucking doing?"
"Both hands on the wheel cook," Zoro smirked at him. Sanji ignored him briefly and looked down.
Name: Zoro Roronoa
Phone number: XXX-XXX-XXXX
Cell number: XXX-XXX-XXXX
"You're putting yourself in?" Sanji said slowly.
"Yes, now put both hands on the wheel and keep your eye on the road," Zoro snapped. "Honestly, do you even have a driver's license?"
It took a while but as they were driving back in silence, Zoro spoke again.
"You know," Zoro said softly. "If you treasure your hands and you need your legs to fight for self-defence …" he trailed off. "Doesn't that mean that your whole body is a treasure?"
Sanji stared straight ahead but his eyes widened noticeably. "What?" he asked.
"If you need your hands to cook and you can't bear to harm them, then you need to take good care of them. If you need your legs to fight, which will help you stay alive, then you need to take god care of them too. That means everything about you Sanji needs to be treasured, doesn't it?"
Sanji turned away and stared out the window, trying to fight down a blush.
"Fucking liar," he muttered.
He can't mean it, can he? he thought to himself, but there was a voice in the very back of his mind, nagging him, annoying him, telling him he did.
Author's Note #2: Now for the thanks!
Guest: I'm really glad you like it! As for the story about Sasuke and Naruto, I'm not sure what I'm going to do about it. I'll keep it as a file saved away in my computer and probably write on it every now and then, but it's going to take serious revision and work before I can post anything.
Dyloa: Yes, you are totally right! That saying is spot on! So I actually tried to read your French story. I'm slow at reading things that aren't my first language, but out of curiosity, you said "l'Orbite" is that the Baratie, but in French? Cause I wasn't sure. A thing I didn't mention about the fujoshi categories: the last one, the you placed yourself under, they don't really associate with that term. I'm the exception to the rule cause I like both semes and ukes, but I do associate with the term. Though I do love other regular pairings a lot. You know I've basically imagined Nami paired up with Zoro, Luffy and Sanji? I can picture all three happening, quite personally, but then I decided I liked Sanji and Zoro together better, but I still think Nami and either of the two would be a good couple. Since Zoro and Sanji were kinda the main pairing of this story and kinda gay, I decided to pair Nami up with Luffy, which is cool since he's the first one I thought to pair her up with. Later on I thought about Sanji and Nami and then Zoro and Nami. I dunno, maybe she's just very compatible to me. I don't know about who'd win since I kinda wanted to make them fair. Considering it's Luffy without the Devil Fruit, I think they're even when they're both mortals. As for when they were to fight in the anime or manga? Yeah, I'd have to admit, Sanji would lose, but I think he'd hold his own pretty well for a while and go out with style.
lilcutieprincess: Thanks for answering that bonus question. The thing about it is for that Naruto story, I was thinking I'd write it in present-tense, something I'm not that good at, so it'd be rough to start. I am working on it a bit though.
Okay now as for my next question: In this chapter, Sanji and Zoro were fighting and the cashier hinted that Sanji was more feminine. In Sanji and Zoro's relationship, who do you think is the uke?
1st Edit: August 6th 2015
