Author's Note: I will not lie, the format of this chapter is really weird and Sanji seems pretty out of character. Everything Zoro said in the past chapter seems to have totally evaporated. I will be honest: I have a thing for constants, about finding a constant person in my life. Aside from my family, I don't have one but I'm hoping I will at some point in my life. Now I also know Zeff comes off as a bit of an asshole, I know. I also know that the format may get annoying and that it changes near the end, but please, bear with it. I had Sanji's backstory nearly totally figured out by the time we hit chapter 15, and then when I wrote this it turned out slightly different than I thought. I've never been through the things he has, which is why maybe I'm writing this wrong, but I really tried. I also wrote the "beautiful" scene before hand and it was suppose to stop after Sanji denied it, but then I decided to roll with it and continue because I wanted it to be sweet. I don't know if I succeeded. Anyway, I hope you like this chapter despite the weird format and how shitty Zeff seems to be. It's really a chapter for getting closer in terms of Sanji and Zoro's relationship and it was a bit hard to write since the story flows better when the two are near each other, interacting. Like chapter 17, it was easier to write the bit when Zoro was in the hospital, talking to Sanji than writing the bit when he was fighting. I don't own One Piece.


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:

Physical abuse, self-harm

Memories of rape


Chapter 22: Constant


Sanji had only one thought going through his mind as Zoro hugged him:

He knows.

Zoro had gone to the Baratie and he knew. It was that simple and he knew he couldn't be wrong. There was no way Zoro would just come back from going out and hug him tightly, asking to hold him because he felt like it.

With that realization, he didn't even care what Zoro said to him in French. He was focused on the sinking stone in his stomach.

If Zoro knew, that meant he would become sympathetic. He would get pitied. He didn't like sympathy or pity. The reason he liked Zoro was because he had never been sympathetic, never felt pity towards him. He didn't look at him like he was a wounded animal, he looked at him like he was strong, a wounded soldier who would get back up the second his ribs healed.

Was this it? Was this the end? Was Zoro going to turn into someone who just felt sympathy? Who just pitied him? Sanji wasn't sure he could handle it.

Zoro's grip on him tightened and Sanji, not wanting to let the man he had come to appreciate and respect in so many ways go, tightened his own grip in return. If this was the end of it, he wanted to brace himself. He wanted to be prepared but he knew deep down, he'd never be prepared for this.

He didn't let Zoro go. He didn't loosen his grip and neither did Zoro. It was like they both knew they needed each other as a life-line. At least, that's how Sanji was clinging to him. Zoro was muttering things under his breath, saying words like, "jamais" and "impossible". Well, at least he knew what impossible meant. It was a string of words in a foreign language and as Zoro muttered them, he felt like he was drifting away from Sanji, going off into his own world only Zoro could understand.

Sanji didn't know how long they stood like that, wrapped in each other's embrace until Zoro finally pulled away. Was the reluctancy actually there or was Sanji dreaming? Zoro turned his head away and wiped his eyes, as though he had been crying. Sanji knew he had been. "I went to the Baratie," Zoro said softly.

Sanji closed his eyes. This was it. He could handle it, couldn't he? He had braved worse.

Zoro was probably disgusted in him, in what he had gone through and would throw him out. If not, he'd treat him like a wounded puppy and he wasn't sure which hurt more.

"Sit."

Sanji's eyes opened in surprise.

"Pardon?"

Zoro gave him a sad smile. "Sit down," he said. "I want to talk to you. I want you to tell me the truth. The whole truth."

Sanji bit his bottom lip. Maybe, if he kept his mouth shut, he could keep Zoro. If Zoro didn't know the whole truth, then maybe he could salvage this relationship, this sweet relationship that left him wondering if he was dreaming, the relationship that made him feel like he was on cloud nine, while at the same time, made him feel like he was being slowly tortured.

Sanji sat down, his hands shaking. He didn't know what to say, what to tell Zoro.

Zoro leaned closer to him, sitting across from him. "I want you to talk to me," he said. "I want you to tell me your past, the truth. I'm not going to force you to tell me anything in detail and I'm not going to ask you to hold back. I don't care what you might think I'll think, I swear I won't." He reached out across the coffee table and took Sanji's trembling hand in his. If anything, Sanji's hand shook even more. And he started to sweat. "You can trust me Sanji. I swear."

Sanji took a deep breath and stared into Zoro's grey eyes. "Are you sure?" he asked in a voice that made him feel so small and insignificant.

Zoro gave him a small smile and squeezed his hand. "Do you want to hold my hand while you tell me?"

It wasn't mocking and it wasn't teasing either. He genuinely wanted to know. Sanji bit his lip. "Maybe."

Zoro let out a soft chuckle and Sanji got scared he'd let go of him, laugh in his face. Instead, Zoro tightened his grip. "Talk to me Sanji," he said softly.

Sanji nodded slowly. "Where … where do you want me to start?"

"Wherever you feel comfortable," Zoro told him.

The beginning was always the easiest, it was the least hard part to remember, even if it wasn't wonderful. Sanji nodded again and gulped. "Okay."

"Take your time," Zoro said softly. "I'm patient."

And Sanji knew just this once, the swordsman would be.


When I was four, my parents were killed in a car accident. I was at home with the babysitter at the time. The memory's pretty vague to me. It was some drunk driver, nothing special. They wanted to put me into an orphanage because there were no blood-relative my parents were close to, or whom they entrusted me in the care of, but the babysitter, I think her name was Lindsay, she wanted to keep me. Said I was a good kid or something but since she was underage at the time, seventeen, they told her she wasn't permitted to look after a child and they put me in the orphanage.

I remember the first day I got there. They introduced me to everyone and there was this little kid, I don't remember his name, but I remember the first thing he ever said to me.

"Who's the shrimp?"

I thought that was stupid, especially since I was taller than him by like, five centimetres, but that didn't matter to him.

You know how it's like, don't you? When you get picked on by one person and then that makes it okay for everyone to pick on you? That's what ended up happening to me. They laughed at me a lot, calling me "short" and other stupid things that now that I think about it, didn't mean a damn thing to me, but you know what it's like when you're young. Everyone's approval matters to you.

I tried to reverse it by using food.

The orphanage had a tight budget and didn't make that much money. It was kind of hanging on a thread, a dump really. They didn't have enough food to evenly distribute it, so they just kind of improvised and it became a "first come, first serve" sort of thing. I thought that if I shared my food with the kids when they were hungry, they might like me more. Maybe someday someone would offer me some of their lunch too, that's what I thought. Stupid of me, really.

It never happened.

The kids saw me as an easy target. I wasn't that smart, I wasn't sly, I wasn't good at making friends either. They took what they wanted and eventually, I just had an old bone left on my plate, without any meat from the steak. Yeah right, like they'd serve us steak. Anyway, I went without food a lot. By the time I realized I might starve to death at the rate I was going at, they had already decided I wasn't going to fight back for my food and when I tired, they pushed me aside and nearly broke my arm.

I got desperate. I try breaking into the kitchen.

I remember the first time I did it perfectly. It was dark and all the other kids were sleeping, so I thought all the cooks would be gone too, makes sense, right? I opened the swinging kitchen door and it looked like there was no one around.

I remember walking around the kitchen, it had looked so big to me and trying to reach the counters. They were too tall for me. I just wanted an orange so I went to the fridge but the second I had it in my hand, I could feel eyes on the back of my head and I turned around.

That's how I met Zeff.


"Zeff?" Zoro repeated. He frowned. "I think you mentioned him before."

"Yeah, I did," Sanji agreed, his hand clenching tighter onto Zoro's. If Zoro was in pain from his grip, he didn't mention it.

"Continue," Zoro said. "I'm listening," he promised.

Sanji took a deep breath and continued.


He's this big man with a crazy long moustache with a ridiculously tall chef hat. He found me and asked me what a runt like me was doing in the kitchen. I told him that I just wanted a snack and he told me it was too late for a snack.

I didn't say anything, I just stared at the floor.

Then Zeff lowered himself down to my eye-level. "You're the eggplant, right?" he asked me.

"Who are you calling 'eggplant', old geezer?" I asked him.

"You're the one they keep taking food from," he said, ignoring me.

I want to hit him, I really did. I knew he was going to tell on me, that I'd get in trouble, but for some reason, he wasn't going to tell the woman in charge. "Give a man a fish, he eats for a night; teach a man to fish, he eats for a lifetime. Do you know what that means, Eggplant?"

"What are you talking about?"

"It means," said Zeff, ignoring my question, "that if you give someone food, they're dependent and can't do anything without that person, but if you teach someone how to do something, they can stand on their own."

"How am I supposed to know that, you geezer?"

Zeff had shook his head at me. "Eggplant, I'm going to teach you how to fish."

I didn't get what he meant because after he said that, he gave me two pieces of bread and lettuce with some other ingredients for a sandwich. He didn't really teach me, now that I think about it, I learnt through repetition. I watched him and copied him. I learnt how to do it like a baby learns how to walk, watching and imitating.

When it was over, he crossed his arms. "Now you know how to fish, Eggplant."

"My name's not Eggplant," I told him. "It's Sanji."

"And mine's Zeff," said Zeff, "now get out of here, you rascal!"

I went back the next night, just in case there was something I was missing. Zeff pretended to be surprised, but I think he was expecting me. And then he started teaching me. It was weird to learn from him, but he taught me how to cook at night. It was hard to do sometimes, since we had to be quiet so no one else found us and I slept at weird times, but it was worth it.

It was kind of like I had a father, I guess you could say.

I went through different foster homes, through the system and all. I don't know, no one seemed to like me. Either the pets didn't like me or the siblings that were there first hated my guts. Sometimes I was just a waste of space and parents just took me in cause they thought they were performing some kind of charity for the world.

Every time I came back, Zeff would frown and ask me why I was back again. Didn't I have a family yet? Didn't someone pick me up off the street yet? What the heck was wrong with me, some short blond kid, unable to keep a home for longer than a month at most?

It went on like that for a few years. When I was nine, Zeff resigned from the orphanage and decided he wanted to take me in. He asked to adopt me and told me I could have whatever last name I wanted, it was none of his business. I liked to keep things simple, so I just kept my first name. Sanji.

Zeff wanted to start a restaurant. He wanted to be the head chef at some big place that would feed everyone, and anyone. I joined him because I didn't want anyone to go through the hunger I had, it was awful. Even with Zeff teaching me how to cook, I got just enough food. We were going to open the restaurant to anyone and everyone.

He let me name it so—


"The Baratie," said Zoro softly. "You named it the Baratie."

"Actually, no," Sanji said with a laugh. "We got into a fight over it. I wanted to call it the Basket, don't even ask me why that thought occurred to me, I was nine," Sanji added quickly when he saw Zoro's lips curl into a smile. "And Zeff wanted to call it the Tavern, or some shit like that. I don't know how, but we ended up with the name Baratie." Sanji shrugged. "Best argument I ever got into though."

"Were your points any good?"

"I thought the letter B was bubbly and would look nice on a sign and the word 'Tavern' made me think of drunks. Those were my arguments."

Zoro let out a light laugh. "That's … cute," he said with a small smile.

Sanji turned away and fought down his blush.

"Yeah well …"


Anyway, one day when me and Zeff were talking about how we'd get the place started, these two guys came in, asking for jobs. The Baratie is kind of like a giant apartment really, with me and Zeff living on the top floor and the main dining hall being on the bottom floor. We remodelled it so you could barely tell, but that's besides the point. When the two guys came in, I thought of it like letting them into our house, I always think that when I see customers come in.

They were Patty and Carne, who were nice, I swear, for the first five seconds. The second Zeff was gone though, to write up a contract …

"What's this shrimp doing here?" Patty asked me. "Can you even cook, shortie?"

"I bet he can't even hold a knife," Carne said.

"I can too!" I told them. I didn't like them that much anyway, they smelled weird to me. Dirty. I wish I had pushed them out the second they got there, but I … I couldn't ….


Zoro squeezed Sanji's hand tightly. "You were what, nine? Maybe ten?" He shook his head. "Even if you wanted to, I doubt you could've taken them. It's not your fault."

Sanji shook his head. "You don't understand, they were … They wouldn't expect anything from some bratty nine year old, would they? I should've …"

Zoro pulled at Sanji's hand, holding it in his own. He leaned forward and both Sanji and Zoro's elbows were on the coffee table between them, Sanji's hand shaking in Zoro's. He clasped Sanji's hand tightly. "Listen to me," Zoro said in a soft voice. "I don't understand? Then tell me. I want to understand, talk to me until I do understand. You're not alone Sanji, no matter what you think."

Sanji nodded, swallowing a lump in his throat. What would it cost him to believe Zoro's words for a day? Just for now …

"Right, so Patty and Carne …"


By the time Zeff had them signing the contract, they had fooled him. Zeff acts all tough and rough, but he's really soft-hearted. He took me in after all.

The first few weeks with them were torture. I wanted to find a way to expose them for who they were, for all the hell they put me through. It was subtle though, little shoves, small remarks that no one would really notice were insults unless they really thought about them. It was like they were teasing me and it was right in front of Zeff too but he didn't pay mind. If he did, then he didn't show it.

When every new cook came, I hoped they would see the craziness that was Patty and Carne and they'd stop them, but they got sucked in too. It got to the point where I wondered if this really was better than the orphanage …

The first time Zeff went off for a few weeks was maybe six months after we first opened the restaurant. I was eleven, I remember that. Zeff had some kind of business he had to take care of elsewhere so he left the kitchen to Patty. He had already decided I was his assistant cook and you have no idea how much that meant to me, that he made me the assistant cook, me!

I wanted to tell him to stay though, right before he left. He called me a brat like usual and told me to behave and before I could say anything in protest, he was gone and Patty and Carne looked like their dreams had just come true.

That was the first time they hurt me. Physically, at least.

They shoved me around the kitchen, stole my equipment and hid it, juvenile stuff when I think about it.

Zeff had gotten me this knife for Christmas, it was a really good, stainless steel one. I used it for all of my dishes. Patty took it and hid it somewhere. I'm sure they had fun watching me have a mental break down over it.

I remembered running out the back door and leaning against the building, breathing hard. I was crying, I remember and it was cold, since it was still January. There was a man outside, loitering, smoking a cigarette. He saw me and asked me if I wanted some of it. I think he might've been drunk or high, probably both, but I took it.

I remember coughing the first time because I couldn't handle it. It didn't taste all that great, but it made me feel lightheaded and it relaxed me.

I've been smoking ever since.

When I was thirteen, that's when they started to call me names that were worse than just "loser" and "idiot". I think that's when I first met Moodie too. She was really pretty, in her late teens I think. I waitered for the first time around then too. They teased me, saying she was my girlfriend and then Patty said I could never get a girl. I was too ugly.

And I don't even know why, it seems stupid now, but I … I freaked out. I started staring at myself all the time, wondering what was wrong with me, what was I lacking? I felt like I was on the brink of insanity while they called me names, telling me I was fat, I was ugly, that I made other people's stomach churn with the need to vomit.

Maybe three months after that, Moodie introduced me to her first boyfriend.

I snapped. I … I … that knife Zeff had given me ….


Sanji was shaking. His bottom lip was trembling and his hands were shaking. His grip on Zoro loosened and his knees knocked against each other. He swallowed and tried to bite back tears. "I …" He trailed off. "Fuck, I'm sick, aren't I?" he asked Zoro. "It was a gift," he muttered, "it was his gift to me and I …"

Zoro got up from his seat across from Sanji and he wanted to reach out and grab him, to stop him from leaving, but he didn't have to worry because Zoro took a seat next to Sanji, wrapping an arm around him, pulling him into his chest. "I'm not going to tell you it's okay," Zoro admitted, "because that's bullshit. But right now, it's over," he said softly. "Do you want to stop?" he asked. "You don't have to tell me the rest."

Sanji shook his head. No, Zoro deserved to know for all the trouble he had gone through for Sanji, he deserved to know. "Just give me a minute," Sanji said, trying to hold back his tears.

"Okay," Zoro said softly, rubbing his back in circles. "Take your time."

Sanji didn't know how long he clung to Zoro but when he finally calmed down, he expected Zoro to pull away from him. He didn't. It was like he was trying to confuse Sanji. He wasn't going to give up a good thing though, and tightened his hold, hoping they could stay like this for just a while longer.


It … It made me feel better. I know that sounds crazy, but it did. Like all my pain was finally starting to show. I went a little over-board the first time. There was a lot of blood and it took a long time to clean it up, but I felt better about it.

The next day when I was out waitering, Moodie didn't even seem to notice. It kinda felt like no one would ever notice if I did it. If I kept it well hidden, I could continue and no one would know. So I did. I did it a lot, more than I'd like to admit.

It was the same routine for years, just like that. I'd be made fun of, I'd worry about my appearance, I'd get beaten up when Zeff went off on trips. I would put on a smile, I'd get hurt by someone or another, I'd cut, I'd bleed and then smile again.

And then you came.

You know, I thought you were a bastard when I first met you.


Zoro laughed at that. "Oh yeah?" he asked.

"Does that offend you?" Sanji asked curiously.

Zoro shook his head. "Nope, that was my first impression as well."

Sanji smirked. "Great minds think alike, eh?"

Zoro gave him a small smile and squeezed his hand gently. "You know what?" he said. "I don't think I need to hear the rest. I'm good with knowing what I do—"

"No," Sanji cut him off. "No, I want to tell you," Sanji said. "You deserve to know."

Zoro nodded slowly and waited.


I got a beating that night, for being in the dining hall. I hadn't been out in the dinning hall in a long time. You saw, I know you did. You have no idea what I was thinking at that moment, I wanted to hunt you down and kill you, make sure there was no witness to me at my lowest point. And then you turned up again the next night and I wondered if you were some devil coming to haunt me for life.

And you know we made our deal.

That day at the grocery store, when you ran into me …. the reason I was in pain was a bad beating the night before. Patty got mad at me for breaking a glass. The glass exploded on me and that's how I got cut on my hand, but my ribs … Rolling pins are very harsh, you know?


"As for the night I kicked you … the night before I had come back into the kitchen after serving and I dropped something by accident. They— the cooks, I mean, slapped my … they slapped my ass and asked me if I liked it," Sanji said, trembling. He felt like his blood had run cold. Zoro would see him exposed now, he'd know he was tarnished, he was dirty. He wasn't sure if he was ready for it, but he held onto Zoro tightly and forced himself to continue. "They … they mentioned your name a few times. Lots of times, actually. Patty told them to strip me and …" Sanji felt like sinking into the ground, his face red hot. It made him flinch to think of it, to remember. He could feel Zoro tense, with Sanji lying on his chest, drawing lazy circles with his free hand, he felt the swordsman as he realized where Sanji was going with his story. "Patty … Patty forced me to suck him off," he said quietly, the tears starting to fall. "And then Carne … he just …" He shook and shut his eyes tightly. "He …"

"Stop," Zoro said, holding him tighter. "Stop, I don't want to hear it."

"But he …" Sanji couldn't see. His vision was blurring with tears, Zoro's shirt looked like a mix of blues. "He forced me onto Patty harder … And then he got behind me and …"

"Stop," Zoro repeated. "Please," he begged. "Please Sanji, stop."

"Carne f-f-fucked me," Sanji finally forced the words out. "And it was so sudden … he just … it h-hurt Zoro, it hurt so much …"

Sanji could feel Zoro's fingers in his hair, gently stroking him. "Shush," he told him in a quiet whisper, "you don't have to force yourself. If it hurts, stop."

"And then …" Sanji couldn't help it, he hadn't told anyone, he needed to talk as much as it hurt him, as much as the memories brought it back, fresh like a new cut on an open wound. He needed someone to know and if it was going to be anyone, he wanted it to be Zoro. "And then Carne he … he came in me and Patty and he s-switched places. Patty … Carne … t-they didn't even w-warn me. J-just shoved themselves i-in—" He couldn't finish his sentence, instead gripping Zoro tightly. "Why did they do it?" he asked in a quiet voice. "Why did they f-fuck me? Did I … did I do something wrong?"

"No, you didn't," Zoro told him in a quiet voice, whispering in his ear. "You didn't do anything," he tried to reassure him. "They're just bastards."

Sanji couldn't speak anymore, instead burying his head in Zoro's shirt. He felt awful, he felt exposed, he felt like he wanted to die, curl up in a little ball and end everything.

Sanji muttered something against Zoro's shirt.

"What?" Zoro asked in a soft voice.

Sanji sniffled and took a deep breath. "C-constant," he repeated. He frowned. "I … I don't know, it's a stupid thing I have an obsession with. Constants. The sun's always going to rise, the moon will always set …" He shook his head. "I've never had a constant," he said softly. "Not one that was for me, not one that was my constant, something that would never leave for me, never change …" He let out a laugh without any humour. "I sound fucking insane, don't I?"

Zoro said nothing and pressed him harder against his chest. He took one of Sanji's hands and looked at it, holding it in his own. He turned it over slowly, letting himself entwine their fingers, run his other fingers over his small calluses. "I wasn't lying, you know," he told Sanji softly. "They're beautiful. Your hands, I mean." There was silence and then—

"You're beautiful, you know."

Sanji rolled his eyes into Zoro's chest. "Yeah, and you're a prancing leprechaun."

Zoro shook his head. "I'm serious."

Sanji shook his head in return, pulling away from Zoro's chest, but Zoro kept him there so the most Sanji could do was meet his eyes. "You need to get your head checked." When Zoro opened his mouth to protest, Sanji beat him to it. "Look at me. Really look at me. I'm as skinny as a toothpick, I'm paler than a baby's ass, my eyes have no depth to them, my lips are chapped, my legs are too long, my hair— God, where do I even begin with my hair? My skin's rough in texture, my fingers look like bones, the outline of my ribs are visible, my arms are lanky, my eyebrows are fucked up, my wardrobe consists of dress shirts, black pants and a tie, not to mention that fucking annoying blazer, my boots are clunky—"

"But Sanji," Zoro said, cutting off the blond's rant. "It's not about that—"

"Oh, are you going to tell me my personality's beautiful? Are you going to tell me that my soul is pure and my pride is admirable? I lost that a long time ago, or did you not notice? I've got the mouth of a fucking sailor, my soul was tainted the moment I entered the damn restaurant and it's been broken to bits since I took it up the ass by those shit cooks! Alright? I'm not fucking beautiful, I'm a fucking train-wreck!"

Zoro couldn't find words, couldn't think of anything to say. Sanji took this as his way of telling him he saw things his way now.

"Don't call me fucking beautiful, you fucking liar."

Zoro sighed and put a finger underneath Sanji's chin. He had begun to dig himself into Zoro again during his speech, but it seemed Zoro wanted to look at him. He looked up at Zoro, into his grey eyes with their flecks of hazel. "I'm not," he said in a quiet voice.

Zoro shook his head. "You are," he said quietly. "You're fucking beautiful."

"Fucking Marimo," Sanji told him in a quiet voice.

"Agree to disagree then," Zoro said. He pulled at Sanji's chin slightly, leaning down.

Sanji closed his eyes. What was this? Pity? Sympathy? Sanji hated pity, he hated sympathetic eyes. He didn't want to see the look in Zoro's eyes, he wanted to pretend it didn't exist. If he didn't see it, he would never notice the sympathy he held for him. He could believe this was about Zoro and him, about the two of them and not about Sanji's sorry excuse for a past.

This was about them. Zoro and Sanji. This was because they wanted to, because they both felt it, felt the pull, felt the tension in the air. This was because he and Zoro liked each other, because he and Zoro were falling in love with each other. At least, with his eyes closed, Sanji could convince himself of that. For even just a moment.

It was right before their lips touched, feeling Zoro's breath on his, that the swordsman pulled away.

Sanji kept his eyes shut. He didn't trust himself to open them and for the disappointment to be hidden. He took a deep breath, trying to bury the rejection, trying to forget that even a wounded person like him wasn't worth a pity kiss. He dusted off his pants and untangled himself from Zoro.

"Night, Marimo," he told him, walking off, never daring to look back. If he looked back, he'd break and he might never be able to put himself back together again.


Sanji fell into a restless sleep that night, but he kept quiet when he woke up. He bit his lip, smoked until the room's air became suffocating and still wouldn't make a sound. He wanted to keep in his mind forever, the words he had heard in his dream, the wish that had been granted in his subconscious, what could never be, but in dream-land, where time was forever frozen, he could believe it. Just for a moment.

A grey and hazel eyed swordsman telling him, "I'll be your constant."

Just for Sanji. A constant just for him.

Pulling his knees to himself, he knew he was right.

Love hurt. It hurt a lot.


Author's Note #2: Okay, the thank-yous!

versora: Okay, I swear I've heard that line before but for some reason, I can't remember where it's from! Dammit, that's annoying me! But anyway, I made Fullbody a bigger asshole cause in case you haven't noticed, I've limited most of the cast to the Baratie arc just because they're easier for me to do and I feel most comfortable with these characters. I used him as a minor antagonist and when I thought about it, I think this story's become less of a story of Zoro and Sanji, but a story about finding strength when you're confined in bad situations. I find that you always need an external push to get you started, like how Sanji needed Zoro to get him out of the Baratie in the first place to make his move and Moodie needed Sanji to tell Fullbody off. I don't know, I like to think my stories have deeper meaning to them. Anyway, the way I made Moodie was I suppose, the way I imagined a girl like her would react to Fullbody. Kind of helpless, but in the end pull through because I can't stand weeping girls who do just about nothing. This is why I don't like Orihime all that much. That, and the English dub voice just makes me think she's the stupidest person in the world.

Michikuni Mayu: Well, I think that moment's coming sooner than you expected, but anyway, I really liked writing the last chapter. The hug was always planned, except in the original, Zoro wasn't supposed to talk. He was just supposed to pull Sanji close, hug him, not let him go and Sanji would just let him, first acting a bit like a dead fish in his hands, and then hugging him back. Just like a wordless promise that he's there for him. It didn't end up like that, but I like it anyway. I've had a few people describe my writing, or my scenes or stories as "beautiful", but it's never been a story like this. The ones they call "beautiful" are more my really depressing angst stories that I write in a special format, but thank you for saying that! I corrected it, by the way, if you didn't notice.

JustCallMeLucie: Photograph? I know that song. I think-no, I did put it on their playlist. The thing is though that when I make a playlist, I even put on songs that just remind me a little of they're relationship. And I read Love Me Dead a while ago so my music has also expanded a lot. There will be a few chapters with song titles as their names with lyrics of what I really want people to focus on at the beginning, but otherwise, if you want the playlist, I can share it with you by PM or something. I'm very childish, I find, I listen to music from like, the early 2000s, or some reason stuff, but yeah, I'm a teenager, sorry if you don't like my music. If there's a song as the title of a chapter, I do hope you listen to it though. You'll know if it's a song, there will be lyrics at the beginning. Like I said before, I don't make my story fit to any particular song, I don't build it around a song, so when I find a song that fits, I'm really happy. Nope, it's not pneumonia, I've just got a bad cough and headache. My fever, which I had before, went down a bit.

Dyloa: I figured it was an arranged marriage, before she was born sort of thing, so she couldn't really get out of it. I wanted to make a verbally strong character and for Sanji's chivalry for women rub off on Zoro so he'd handle her physical fights, not to make her sound weak. I'm sure she could've packed a bitch slap in there, but she didn't, probably since this was her first time standing up, she was shaking so much.

lilcutieprincess: i've updated! Anyway, I hope this format doesn't screw with your head too much!

Okay, now what did Zoro say in French? Well, what I wanted him to say, and what I think the correction was (which I did put there), was "Look at me, you're making me fall in love with you, and you don't even know it, bastard. And you'll never know."

Okay, question time! Zoro called Sanji beautiful. If you hadn't noticed throughout the story Sanji uses the word "pretty" to describe the majority of girls he meets. That's just because I have sentimentality towards the word "beautiful". Sanji didn't believe what Zoro told him. What would you tell him, to assure him he's beautiful?

BONUS QUESTION: WHO WAS THE ORIGINAL PERSON WHO SAID THAT LINE ABOUT FISHING AND FEEDING PEOPLE?


1st Edit: September 19th 2015