"Sanji….Sanji, get up!"
Explosions. Rattling the walls. Gunfire.
"Sanji, Father says we have to go! People are attacking! Ichiji, Niji, and Yonji are already in the car! Do you want us to leave you behind?!"
He was sweating. The smell of smoke clouded the air.
Or was it steel….gunfire...
He was running, with as much as he could carry thrown over his shoulder, and he didn't understand why. He was a child.
They had to go. All of them. But...
"We can't-we can't bring her, Sanji! The hospital is-!"
His head pounded. He dropped the load he carried, everything he'd worked so hard to gather.
Mother…
Why was this happening?
He felt cold….
So cold….
He wanted to see her again.
But he was too-
Eyes snapped open, instantly met with a sharp pain cutting through the back of his skull. It stung his skin, hurt his neck, and he realized, with sudden terror, that he couldn't see, couldn't move.
Where was he?
Where the fuck was he?
Breaths began to huff quickly, the sound loud, almost amplified in his ears. But he felt something on his face, and it was his motorcycle mask, the hard plastic still covering his nose and mouth.
Everything was an odd sickly green, he began to notice, eyesight slowly coming back to him, tinted by the night vision of his goggles.
He was in a room, a small, dimly-lit room that didn't hold much within its walls of corrugated tin.
A dirty old mattress, with a few flimsy-looking blankets thrown over it, was pushed against a wall, and there was a black backpack on the concrete floor, two duffle bags beside it, both riddled with rips and tears.
He tried to turn, to see more of his surroundings, but Sanji realized, with an angry hiss, that he was tied securely to a metal chair. Thin white rope circled his torso, arms bound tightly to the armrests, ankles zip-tied to the legs. He felt sharp plastic zip-ties cutting into his wrists as well, as if the rope wasn't enough.
And then he felt a large hand clamp down on the back of his neck.
"You're awake," a low voice rumbled, lips close to his ear, and did Sanji imagine it, or was there a hint of enjoyment in that tone?
Sanji shivered inadvertently, having someone so close to his neck, the small hairs standing at attention.
He craned his head away instinctively, tried to turn and see his captor, but the man remained conveniently in his blind spot, probably on purpose.
Sanji tried, instead, to focus on calming his breaths. If he showed fear, there was no telling what would happen.
He could have asked a million questions, and in fact, he desperately wanted answers.
Where was he? Where was the food he'd so magnificently failed at stealing? What was this man going to do to him?
But he wouldn't ask them. He wouldn't give anything away.
The room was silent for a long moment, nothing but his own breathing and the faint drip of water somewhere to fill it.
He thought he caught a glimpse of a thin quilted thermal sleeve in his peripheral as the hand on his neck eventually loosened and disappeared.
For some reason, the feel of those calloused fingers tingled at his skin even after their removal.
"What's the matter? Not gonna talk?" the voice asked, most likely picking up on how Sanji had stilled, staring straight ahead stubbornly through the otherworldly glow of his night vision filter.
The man chuckled, Sanji having to resist another shiver the deep sound sent rippling through him. He heard a few footsteps behind him as the man paced to his other side, still just out of sight.
"You must've been pretty damn sneaky to get past Usopp," the man mused, a hint of amusement in his voice. "Either that or he's slacking. Sucks for you-I couldn't sleep. Otherwise, you might've gotten away with it."
Sanji didn't make a sound at the jibe, his only movement that of his hands twisting uncomfortably to relieve some of the pressure from his binds.
More footsteps, probably from combat boots if he recognized that heavy clomp, and then, one of the hands had returned, resting on the back of the chair. He couldn't see or feel it, but it was close enough to touching him that he sensed it, a crawling sensation rising up the back of his neck.
He didn't move.
"Stealing food," muttered the man, and then he felt two forearms press against his shoulder blades as his captor folded arms casually on top of the chair back, his voice coming close to Sanji's ear again. "You came here alone. Awful lot of food for one person. Who was it for? You a Gatecrasher?"
No response, even though Sanji's stomach churned at the assumption. He may have been desperate, but he would never stoop to their level. Fighting and killing senselessly, like animals would. Society may have crumbled, but there was still a certain sense of dignity to maintain. At least in Sanji's eyes.
"I've never seen a Gatecrasher with the gear you've got though," the man continued, and Sanji's heart sunk with the revelation that he couldn't feel the familiar press of his weapons against his chest. This shitbag must have taken them.
"We've got trade agreements with Raven Outlaw here," that voice drawled with mock confusion. "And I'll be damned if Rayleigh or Shanks would be stupid enough to let some idiot out on a solo suicide mission. So that leaves-one-place."
A teasing pat to Sanji's chest with each word, and Sanji resisted the urge to growl and give himself away, even if his captor had likely figured it out already.
It didn't matter, Sanji thought. Let him find out. He had his reasons for doing this. To feed the people of his faction. No one else had done a damn thing about their dwindling supplies, and people would start dying if he hadn't at least tried. They might still.
Let him find out.
It was a stubborn mantra in his head as that hand lifted from his chest and reached up to remove his mask, sliding it off entirely and tossing it somewhere behind him, where it landed with a light sound onto something soft.
Sanji's hair fell in front of his face, stuck to his sweaty forehead in places, unable to even brush it off.
The room was clearer now, still dim and dank, lacking color beyond the muted industrial grays and neutrals.
And yet, there was still a patch of green when the man behind him finally stepped around Sanji to stand before him.
His captor's hair was an odd shade of moss, much like his own brother's, but softer, a pastel to offset severe, angular features, dark eyes that now observed Sanji like he was some sort of specimen...or a piece of meat.
The man was built, coiled muscle and power straining at the tight fabric of his shirt, partially hidden beneath a bulkier vest. A vest that no doubt held weapons.
Still, Sanji wasn't intimidated. He was too angry for that, particularly when the man's lips turned up slightly. As if this whole thing was downright amusing.
"So Obsidian Shadow got cocky enough to think they could raid whoever the hell they want," said the man, crossing arms over his chest, leveling Sanji with his gaze. "Well, it doesn't fucking work like that. You want food, you join the rest of us. Trade. Try and make something civilized out of this whole fucking-"
"Shut the fuck up!" Sanji barked, breaking his own code of silence at the man's condescending tone, and it was clear he'd surprised him by the slight raise of his brows. "Don't talk to me like you know better! Trust me, I wouldn't have set foot in this hellhole if it hadn't been a desperate situation!"
His captor's momentary shock seemed to have burned away quickly, the man's eyes narrowing before he stepped closer, loomed over Sanji's seated form and planted a hand onto the back of his chair.
"And you expect me to believe that," he replied drily, a glare meeting Sanji's head-on.
"I don't expect you to understand something that's clearly beyond your small window of comprehension," the cook shot back and felt the tiniest swell of triumph within him when the man's top lip curled with genuine irritation.
Swiftly, he reached into his vest, unhooked a small pistol, and jammed the miniature butt underneath Sanji's chin.
"You wanna talk desperate situation..." growled the man, leaning closer as if that would help matters, close enough that Sanji could see the faint scar running through his right eyebrow, another over the bridge of his nose.
The pistol dug into his skin, but still Sanji stared back defiantly, not resigned to his death, and certainly not afraid. Maybe it was the rush of adrenaline that had surged through him.
Or perhaps it was the inkling he had that the man wouldn't actually pull that trigger.
Something told him, if he'd wanted Sanji dead, he would have done it the instant he found him. People were merciless like that.
Sanji said nothing, merely waited, almost daring the man to go through with it. If he was killed, there would be no shame over losing the dare, after all. He wouldn't be alive to feel it.
What was the guy waiting for? For Sanji to plead for his life? Beg to go free so he could continue this pathetic existence?
Who would miss him? Who was left that would feel any sort of pain over his passing?
Things might be tough for the faction initially. Zeff would have to pick up the slack left by him. But he could do it. He was strong.
Zeff, at the very least, would figure out he was gone. And maybe there would be consequences for this mosshead bastard, in the end. He was sure the old man did care about him. But Zeff was rational. He wouldn't let one loss cloud his judgment so much.
Maybe that was wishful thinking….but Sanji hoped it wasn't. The last thing he wanted was for the geezer to do something stupid.
Something like he'd done, come to think...
The man was still watching Sanji with that gun beneath his jaw, didn't look away, and he stayed that way for a torturously long minute.
Sanji's heart, despite everything, thudded slowly in his chest. Steadily beating as if to defy the man's threat as well.
He waited.
Until something changed in his captor's eyes-he saw it. Just a slight wavering of the tension, barely noticeable, and Sanji found he wasn't surprised when, a few moments later, the man slowly pulled the weapon away from Sanji's chin and hid it inside his vest again.
He didn't take his eyes off the blond though, and Sanji didn't betray any hint of gratitude or relief.
If the man was sparing his life, then there had to be a reason, and while he didn't much care to find it out, he did want to know why he apologized soon after.
"I'm sorry," said the man calmly, levelly. "I don't know your situation. M'not sorry for stopping you though. Or knocking you out."
"Asshole," Sanji quipped with a scowl, despite how sincere he'd managed to sound at first.
He also wondered why the hell the guy's lips turned up ever so slightly at the insult.
His mouth opened as if to speak, but it took him a second, that curious smirk still on his face.
"M'not letting you go back," he said, and the tone of his voice was just like a little kid trying to get a rise out of someone, Sanji thought with annoyance. "I don't trust you. You're not leaving my sight."
Sanji couldn't help but scoff at that.
"And what makes you so important? You're not gonna take me to your Lead-?"
He stopped though when the smirk on the other man's face grew until it was practically gleeful, particularly when Sanji dropped his head back and groaned a second later.
"Oh, come on, are you kidding me? You're Zoro Roronoa?" he complained, because, after hearing the descriptions put forth by his father (who admittedly had never seen the man either), he'd conjured some rather opposing images in his head.
For one, he would have expected someone considerably more…
Well, he wouldn't have pinned some young, buff, and rugged supermodel-type to be the Leader of Emerald Peak, that was for sure. He cringed inwardly at that description.
Sanji was silent for a minute, growing more and more irritated with the smug look on this Zoro's face, the idiot losing any intimidation he might have mustered behind that stupidly self-assured expression.
Sanji merely rolled his eyes, did his best to look unimpressed, which he was.
"Suppose it fits," he grumbled, eyeing that minty green atop his captor's head, and thinking of his faction's name-Emerald Peak. "What with your hair and all."
...
A beat.
...
But then, Zoro got it. Slow, this one, clearly.
"What?!"
The man's voice rose about an octave and a half, and Sanji was certain that, yes, this guy was indeed just an idiot with a gun. Which, he also supposed, was quite a dangerous thing in the end. Why get so offended over the obvious?
Zoro was back up in his face again, gripping the back of the chair and doing his best to bare every tooth he had, a few inches from Sanji's face.
"I was gonna untie you so you could sleep, but maybe I'll just leave you like that, Curly Brow!" he snarled.
"Curly Brow?!" Sanji screeched right back, not even intending to mimic the mosshead's impressive tonal range. "Alright, get me the fuck out so I can kick your ass!"
"Like you even could!" Zoro jabbed.
"Right, well, that's easy for you to say when you've got me tied up here! Coward!"
Suddenly, Zoro's entire demeanor changed in the blink of an eye. Suddenly, this wasn't a silly bout of one-upping, because a new fire had blazed within him, enough that he actually darted a hand out to grab the blond by his jacket collar, physically pull him, chair and all, across the floor towards him.
He was seething, heavy breaths close to Sanji's face, but there was something else, something else in those eyes beyond blind rage, and for just a moment, Sanji thought he saw a raw vulnerability, one that was powerful enough to have his own breath catch.
There was nothing he could do to fight back. If Zoro was going to hit him, then he couldn't stop it. His own expression simmered to something a bit more reserved.
Just as quickly as he'd lashed out, Zoro seemed to realize what he'd done, and, surprisingly, his face fell the tiniest bit, his grip automatically loosening on Sanji's collar.
Still, he tried to maintain his ferocity, growling out, "I am not a coward," before releasing Sanji roughly and shoving him back.
The man then took a knife from a small sheath on his belt, moved closer to Sanji….only to slip the blade between a few ropes at the blond's chest and begin hacking apart his binds.
Sanji watched his face the whole time, for any sign that he was going to snap and stab him, but Zoro kept his gaze firmly focused on his work, his brow furrowed.
Something was going on in his head just then, but Sanji couldn't read it, the man's jaw muscles clenching tightly, his shoulders hunched, but his hands deft and gentle as he maneuvered the rope off Sanji's torso.
Eventually, the last of the ropes fell away, and Sanji could finally breathe a little easier at least. He noticed that Zoro went to snap the zip-ties on his ankles first, truly a mistake considering, unbeknownst to him, Sanji's feet were his best weapons.
But when the knife broke the plastic and both his legs were free, the blond was a little shocked to find that he didn't lash out immediately. He didn't kick the bastard's face in and make a run for it, even with a chair attached to his hands.
Instead he just sat there, waited it out as Zoro freed his wrists as well, then hauled him up to his feet quickly, wrenching his hands behind his back. A jingling sound and Sanji saw, a second later, a pair of handcuffs pulled out of Zoro's vest, which was proving to harbor quite the arsenal behind its puffy navy fabric.
"Really? Handcuffs? You think that's gonna stop me from escaping?" the cook muttered, unable to hold back a scoff, waiting for that click of metal clasping onto his wrists.
Zoro made a little growl of irritation, something that satisfied Sanji to no end, but then he felt a cold ring clamp around one of his wrists….and not the other, Zoro releasing it to let his right arm swing free.
Another click of the handcuffs, and he realized, with a rather comical amount of horror…..that the bastard had handcuffed Sanji's left hand to his. He was securely handcuffed to Zoro's right wrist, and for some reason, this was the worst punishment of all.
"What the-?!" he squawked immediately, thrashing his arm about. "Oh hell no! Look, throw me in your dungeon-chain me up-I don't fucking care, but like hell I am-!"
"Now you won't escape," Zoro interrupted, along with the return of that infuriatingly smug look, even as Sanji continued to tug futilely at the handcuffs.
But the metal dug into his wrists painfully and he did not want to damage his hands in any way. They were his most precious tools, and if this son of a bitch ripped them off or some shit, he'd fillet him.
Zoro moved then, tugging Sanji with him as he pushed the chair back to the edge of the room, kicked aside the scraps of rope littering the floor.
"Take them off, you idiot!" Sanji hissed, this time trying to swipe Zoro's feet out from under him with a long leg, but to no avail as Zoro unexpectedly turned on him.
With a flick of his wrist, he bodily threw Sanji down to the mattress against the wall, with an unceremonious, "Oof!" escaping the blond as his face hit a pillow that had seen fuck knew what kind of filth from that grimy head of moss.
Zoro reached down to drag the mattress, with Sanji on it, across the small space of the room until it lay directly beside a row of three equally filthy couch cushions on the floor against the opposite wall. A tiny battery-operated lantern flickered on the floor beside the cushions, the only source of light in the dismal space. Windows on the wall above were covered with a clear plastic tarp-like material duct-taped to the frames, possibly old shower curtains.
Now that the whole space was visible, Sanji assumed it had to have been a tiny car garage at one point, noticing one wall was indeed a pull-down garage door.
Sanji realized, with an odd pang in his chest, that, as far as luxury went, even his meager quarters had this beat. And this guy was the Leader? Fuck. He was scared to think about how the others in his faction lived.
"You sleep there," Zoro was saying, yanking Sanji up and attempting to kick him over to the couch cushions with a toe to his chest. "Go. Go, go, go, go-"
And he started repeating it so much, his foot nudging Sanji's chest each time, that the annoyance alone was enough to get Sanji shifting off the mattress to the cushions.
They weren't comfortable, lumpy and thin, and he had to position himself on the middle one, sliding the other two closer until they met and could simulate a makeshift mat.
Zoro settled down on his own mattress, reached over with the intent of turning off the lantern.
"Hold up. Where are my weapons?" Sanji asked, jabbing his own leg out to stop the man's arm.
"Hidden," Zoro grumbled, still stubbornly reaching for the light.
"Hidden?" Sanji growled. "Listen, you got your food back, so like hell I'll let you steal from me! Or sleep next to you when you've got a whole vest full of shit that can kill me!"
Zoro stopped, looked down at his own vest and seemed to consider Sanji's words for a moment.
Then, to Sanji's surprise, he pulled out his small pistol, and rose eyes to meet Sanji's pointedly as he slid the weapon across the smooth concrete, out of reach of both of them. The knife followed, and another pistol and a taser Sanji hadn't known were pocketed on his other side.
With that, he held out hands, pulled back his sleeves a little to prove he had nothing up them, which was often literally the case with people these days.
Zoro finally grabbed the lantern then, turning a dial, its light dimming before disappearing entirely. He settled down finally onto his back, stretching out on his mattress, on top of the blankets, his free hand folding behind his head.
Sanji noticed how, much like himself, Zoro didn't take his shoes off to sleep, though he did close his eyes, the moonlight, shining through the plastic over the window, covering his face in a pale shroud of white.
Fuck, was this really happening? Was he really going to spend the night here? Handcuffed to the Leader of Emerald Peak? When he should be slitting the guy's throat and getting the hell back to his own faction with food?
Zoro cleared his throat deliberately when Sanji continued to sit there, leaning on his palm, glaring down at the other man as if that alone would shatter the cuffs.
"Lie down or I'll radio my battalion and get 'em right out to attack your stupid faction-" the mosshead hissed.
"Like they could do any damage to our-"
Zoro made a frustrated noise, cutting Sanji off, and he finally opened eyes again to glower up at the blond.
"What do you want me to say?" the mosshead grumbled. "I'll kill everyone you love? 'Cause that's even more fucked up."
The way he said it, almost reluctantly, as if the very words were abrasive to him, had Sanji's head tilting to the side ever so slightly, studying the man in the darkness.
Zoro's features were annoyed, but more relaxed than before, certainly a lot more human, and the look he gave Sanji clearly demanded an answer.
For the second time, Sanji felt like this was a test of sorts…
But he also had one of his own.
"Would you really do that…?" he asked quietly, gaze flicking over the sharp shadow left by the bridge of Zoro's nose over his right cheek, the way the moonlight turned his irises to an almost olive color, no longer the dark pits that had seared at him earlier.
Zoro didn't answer him right away, and the silence stretched long enough that Sanji wondered if he even would.
But then he broke Sanji's gaze, settled back against his pillow again and closed his eyes.
"I'd kill you...not your loved ones…" he muttered dismissively, clearly done with the conversation.
Sanji rose a brow slowly, glad Zoro couldn't see him when the corner of his lips lifted ever so slightly.
Zoro had essentially threatened his life, and yet he found himself settling down onto those nasty, dusty cushions at long last, curled on his side facing Zoro, inhaling the scent of steel and pine.
He watched the man's profile for a while, the peaks and valleys of his face, rather intrigued when Zoro's breaths started to slow, even out. Was the other man actually going to fall asleep, with a potential enemy here beside him...?
The thought of it was...interesting.
Sanji knew he wouldn't sleep, but he finally closed his eyes too, sure his captor had already passed out.
But almost as soon as he did, he heard Zoro's voice, barely audible beneath the faint whistle of wind, the ripple and snap of the plastic windows. Still, Zoro's voice was enough to startle him with a faint jolt through his chest.
"What's your name…?" the man murmured, and the second jolt through Sanji's chest was considerably stronger this time.
The blond let out the breath that had hitched ever so quietly, didn't open his eyes, and he nearly pretended to be asleep himself.
But the answer fell from his lips before he could stop it.
"Sanji…" he breathed in response.
He hadn't seen Zoro's tiny smile either.
Obsidian Shadow Faction
"Where's the brat?"
It was well past seven, the hour Sanji was known to already be in the kitchen, whether he was washing the previous night's dishes, preparing the morning's breakfast, or yelling at Patty and Carne to get off their lazy asses and get to work. Whatever it was, he was supposed to be here.
But he wasn't.
"We don't know. We walked in here prepared to get fucking yelled at, but it was empty." Patty frowned and shrugged, some concern present on his facial features. Carne nodded along, agreeing with him.
Zeff's eyebrows furrowed in confusion. After Sanji's sudden outburst last night, he had hoped he hadn't acted irrationally and done something stupid, but having known Sanji since birth, he knew what the hell he was capable of.
And the fact that he wasn't here fucking scared him.
Dropping the box he was carrying-only a few radishes and onions found inside-on the rusting counter of his kitchen, Zeff turned and limped his way out, Patty and Carne not even trying to stop him.
He could only pray the idiot had overslept. He didn't even want to think of the ideas crossing his mind of where Sanji could be.
He paced through the empty courtyard, the sound of his rapid footsteps filling the void of silence as they echoed through the large concrete-filled space. Reaching the metal doors attached to the Vinsmoke establishment, the guards on duty merely nodded at him and let him through.
He only ignored them.
It was still dark out, but dim orange was already starting to shine its way through the dust-covered windows, barely illuminating the hallway Zeff walked within.
He sped upstairs, the familiar door he'd often walked through showing itself in his line of vision. Would Sanji be in there?
Grabbing the doorknob, he practically barged his way through, only to have his heart sink to his stomach.
The room was empty. The covers of the bed pressed against the wall were still made, everything seemingly untouched. He walked inside, slowly, as though if he entered, the blond would suddenly appear, safe and sound.
Worry and anger began to grow inside him rapidly as each minute passed. He clenched his fists and headed out, but stopped in his tracks when he spotted what looked like the corner of a suitcase peeking its way out from under the bed. Zeff limped towards it, bent down to retrieve it, then placed it on the linen sheets.
It was a silver suitcase that was familiar. Zeff had already grown accustomed to using one himself. Just as he anticipated, the case was filled with just a few weapons, but what caught his attention were the three gun-shaped hollows. Two pistols and a revolver were missing.
Angrily, Zeff slammed the suitcase shut, not even bothering to put it back in its proper place, and left the room. There had to be a reason they were gone, and he didn't like the possibilities of what the idiot could have done with them and gotten himself into.
Back in the courtyard, the 'soldiers' of the faction had already begun gathering and preparing themselves for the day. A few of them readied weapons, already planning to head out on raids, while others either stood guard outside the premises—switching with those who took the night shift—or patrolled and aided Judge Vinsmoke from his office.
Zeff never had or would like Judge. He dreaded even referring to him as his leader, but he was left with no choice, when he was appointed to be second-in-command. He could only observe and note how Judge treated his people.
It was noticeable through his actions that the man didn't give a flying fuck about anybody's well-being but his own. Well, his own and that of four of his five children. Sanji, the brat he now searched for, was not included in that category.
Sanji was like his mother, Zeff knew. Sanji was kind, gentle, courageous. Sanji did her proud every day of his life, but that was just it.
Sanji lived. And Sora hadn't….
And to Judge, that was unbearable.
He was treated much differently than his siblings. Zeff knew the boy had long since noticed, but he just hadn't acted out on it, the feelings or questions Sanji had all continuously piled within him. Sanji had never told Zeff himself, but he didn't have to. He had caught the lost and lonely expression Sanji wore most of the time, and with that alone, he knew.
He knew the isolation Sanji felt from his family ever since he was just a kid, and he couldn't stand to have the brat live that way, therefore, he took him under his wing. From the age of ten, he'd trained him, day and night, how to use a gun, how to aim, how to raid, how to kill.
Then, finally, he taught him all there was to know about cooking.
And as the years passed, he had to admit, Sanji turned out to be a damn good chef.
Sanji enjoyed cooking. He enjoyed the satisfaction of knowing everyone had enough to eat, of seeing their faces light up when they asked for seconds.
Zeff would only smile and shake his head when he watched the big stupid grin planted on the brat's face as he handed them more food...
Despite being worried and anxious to find Sanji, he had to resume his job as chef of the faction now that the civilians were awakening.
Every day, they all lined up for each meal, breakfast, lunch, and dinner. As soon as they received their food, they all went their separate ways to their sad excuses of accommodations to eat.
Yes, they had dining tables, but they were never used, as the people of this place were very distant with one another.
And Zeff knew why. They couldn't call this place their home. Sure, they lived here, together, but no one usually interacted with each other. Everyone kept to themselves.
Judge was to blame for this. He, their leader, didn't socialize with his people, didn't try to liven up the place, didn't put forth the effort to make Obsidian Shadow feel like home.
It was sad to think that, when the world changed all those years ago, some of the few remaining people had chosen this faction to join in search of a reason to live, but they had never been given that.
Sighing, yet still smiling, he handed a woman and her child two plates of all he was able to offer at the moment—scrambled eggs, along with boiled rice and a few chopped vegetables.
The woman smiled gratefully in return, and Zeff moved on to the next person.
"...That bastard Sanji, he didn't stock up the boxes of weapons last night. Now I'm stuck with the damn job."
Zeff glanced up, seeing two members of the Vinsmoke family. But neither of them was the one he wanted to see.
"And I gotta help you! He's fucking useless, I swear…" Niji muttered, clearly irritated.
Yonji walked alongside him, both bickering as they went.
"Haven't seen him all morning, but when I do, I'm gonna fucking kick his ass."
So he wasn't the only one who hadn't seen the idiot, but he was the only one searching for him. Giving the last man his plate, Zeff slammed the tray he used to serve on an empty table, then turned and stomped off towards the exit of the faction, shoving his way through metal doors once again.
Don't fucking tell me.
Heading straight for the parking lot, he felt the panic he had earlier quickly escalating. If Sanji had done what he thought he did...
He looked for any empty parking spots, to signal that someone had taken a vehicle. No one has left yet on raids, so he knew if there was one missing, Sanji must've taken it.
All Jeeps here. None taken.
Next, bikes. He quickly skimmed the array of motorcycles, and he almost missed it, but towards the end of the row, he saw there was one empty parking space.
Staring at the vacant spot, Zeff's eyebrow twitched in pure agitation and he clenched his fists, beyond frustrated.
If Sanji was still out there and fucking alive, then he was just going to have to kick the brat's ass himself.
Emerald Peak Faction
Zoro blinked eyes open blearily, the room still hazy with the veil of sleep, the blurriness in his vision threatening to drag him right back under again. It wasn't often that he slept in late, especially not after the sun was already out, small flecks of dust particles dancing above him from the rays angling in through the window.
He was always up by sunrise, making the rounds, checking in with Usopp, Luffy, and the other guards, going through supplies with Nami or Chopper. He'd listen to Robin's trade reports, talk weapon status with their resident carpenter and armory manager, Franky. Sometimes he'd simply weave through the other huts, checking on the dozens of other occupants that resided within the faction's walls, in the various dilapidated huts and barracks that stubbornly stood somehow, despite crumbling facades and paper thin roofs.
They'd made their home in an old army training facility. Perhaps some of the resilient spirit of its past inhabitants had fortified the buildings as well.
But this wasn't an ordinary day, Zoro soon remembered, as his senses came back to him slowly, because, in the corner of his peripheral vision, there was a dark blur. Not to mention, his mattress was clear on the opposite side of his room, his right arm stretched out oddly….
And the dark blur was breathing softly.
Slowly, he turned his head, still flat on his back, to see the blond man beside him, curled on his side on the old couch cushions, his eyes closed and shaggy hair falling over half his face.
They were still handcuffed together, and considering he hadn't felt any movement in the night, no attempts to be free or any outright attack, Zoro had to assume the blond had actually fallen asleep.
What had he said his name was? Oh yeah….Sanji...the idiot thief from Obsidian Shadow.
He was actually surprised he'd managed to sleep, feet away from a potential threat, but then again, he certainly had, and he hadn't detected anything particularly ferocious about the guy when he'd found him rooting through the food stores with nothing but a few bags on him. If he'd thought he could get away with several trips, then he was clearly underestimating Emerald Peak's forces. Definitely an idiot.
Was Obsidian Shadow really that desperate?
Zoro knew them to be ruthless. Judge Vinsmoke, already a well-known tycoon at the time, president of a massive weapons manufacturing company, had established himself as a leader soon after society's disassembly, and he'd never looked back, taking advantage of whomever he needed to, asserting his dominance by claiming territory for himself, intimidating away even reckless Gatecrashers.
He was merciless, but proud, and smart. Zoro couldn't imagine the man ever stooping to something as low as petty thievery, and certainly not by sending a lone asshole on a one-man mission.
So why was Sanji here?
Zoro's eyes watched the man's face, his features slack, eyes gently closed, cheek pressed into the musty cushion below.
Now, Zoro could see him better, see that, in natural light, he was actually quite handsome, and he meant that in the least romantic way. He hadn't unmasked some ugly goon, programmed to mindlessly fight him.
Sanji was actually rather princely, skin smooth and pale, clean, for the most part. It was almost unbelievable, the man's looks not matching any of what he'd come to expect in this cutthroat world.
His leather jacket was worn, and so were his dark jeans, but the rest of him seemed untouched, only a few fading bruises marring his jaw, probably from an altercation with a fist, if Zoro knew anything about wounds.
And when Sanji's eyes opened without warning to reveal a brilliant blue that Zoro hadn't properly seen the night before, his heart jumped a little bit in response to that sharp gaze suddenly meeting his own.
He wasn't expecting the man to show fear, after the display Sanji had exhibited the previous night, but he definitely wasn't expecting a fucking insult to fall from the other man's lips first thing.
"Do you always stare at your prisoners? Creep…" the blond muttered, sounding irritated, but otherwise calm.
Sanji pushed up to his elbows briefly, before looking uncomfortable, eyeing the handcuffs still trapping his wrist, and he eventually sat up entirely, glaring at Zoro all the while.
Well, good. Let him be uncomfortable. Punishment for fucking stealing.
"It's your fault you're a prisoner," Zoro muttered, sitting up too with a loud yawn and an obnoxious stretch of his arms that wrenched the blond's wrist up painfully.
He heard a scoff from the blond, but ignored it, glancing over to see all of his weapons still scattered on the floor in the center of the room, unmoved from where they'd fallen last night.
Time to put them back on.
Another yawn and he pulled back his shirt collar, giving it a sniff to determine if it was wearable again. Not that he had many clothes to choose from, but the odor wasn't too bad, nor was the one under his armpit, the man uncaring of his company, currently gaping at him with absolute disgust.
"Yes, you do smell, you neanderthal!" Sanji squawked, Zoro rolling his eyes in response. "I know showers are hard to come by these days, but the least you could do is find a river and dunk yourself in it! And preferably don't come up!"
"Fine, then you're comin' too, 'cause you're not gettin' out of these handcuffs," Zoro replied.
A few cracks of his neck and back, unnecessary, but he figured it would annoy the blond, so he did it. Then he was getting to his feet, tugging the guy with him until he could scramble to his feet as well.
As soon as he gave another tug in order to crouch down and pick up his first gun, Sanji gave a hard yank back to prevent him from reaching them.
"Hey! No fucking way are you arming yourself! Not unless you give me mine back!" he insisted, but Zoro instantly scowled.
"Maybe I was gonna, asshole!" he hissed, letting Sanji pull him until he was in range to grab the blond by the shirt collar, dragging him across to one of the backpacks that lay on the opposite end of the room.
There was little resistance though when he pulled him, the blond stumbling after him with sudden surprise.
"Whoa, whoa, wait…." he jabbered as Zoro bent down to unzip the weathered backpack, wrenching open the top to reveal Sanji's set of weapons nestled over what looked like poorly-folded clothes. "You're...seriously gonna….?"
Zoro didn't wait, merely picked up one of the guns and held it up to pass to Sanji, shaking his hand insistently when the blond didn't take it right away.
"You wanted them, right? M'not afraid of you."
Eventually, after a rather baffled moment, he felt fingers slip around the butt, removing the small pistol from his grasp.
Zoro crouched there for a moment, ears pricked for the sound of the weapon cocking, ready to react should the blond quickly point the thing at him.
He waited to see if he was different….
A few breaths, but he heard nothing save for Sanji slipping the gun slowly back inside his own jacket, as he'd figured.
He smirked.
Then, and only then, did he reach inside the backpack and pass over Sanji's remaining pistol, as well as his revolver. All were nice weapons, sturdy, and sleek. No doubt valuable. In fact, they looked new, but that wasn't much of a surprise considering where the man had come from.
If there was one thing Obsidian Shadow knew how to do, it was weapons. Whether they still had access to Judge's old factories was somewhat of a myth, but it wouldn't surprise Zoro if it turned out to be true.
Sanji slowly secured them to their rightful places, the pistol in his jacket as well, and the revolver back at his hip, all the while staring at Zoro like he'd just willingly gifted him his faction's entire food stores.
Zoro straightened, still weaponless, and turned himself towards the blond, holding out his hands, almost in invitation for him to do some sort of damage. Sanji would have to be stupid not to take it.
Nothing, the blond just staring at him, narrowing eyes slightly and shaking his head.
Yup, Sanji was stupid.
"You're a weird guy, Zoro…" was all he muttered, something that had said 'weird guy' scoff.
Right. Like this skinny blond who hardly looked equipped to play at survival was any better. He'd passed up a chance to kill him. Like he stood any chance on his own, outside the safety of his faction. Even with those fancy guns.
Zoro had confidence that, even as he bent down to retrieve his own weapons, back still turned to the blond, Sanji wouldn't shoot him, couldn't shoot him. He could try, but it wouldn't work.
Except he wasn't trying, and Zoro honestly wasn't sure what to make of it. Even as Zoro pushed aside his vest, secured his own weapons to their respective holsters, taking special care to brush fingers over his white pistol, the blond didn't move, just stood there, allowing his arm to be shifted around as Zoro moved.
Maybe he was planning some sneak attack, which Zoro had to admit would make things more interesting than simply lugging around a compliant prisoner all day... If the latter was the case, he might start to feel a little bad about holding the guy captive, and that just wouldn't fucking do. Zoro Roronoa didn't feel bad about punishing people who'd wronged him.
Not anymore, at least.
"Come on," Zoro said, once he'd finished returning his weapons. He began leading Sanji across the small room, towards the garage-style door pulled down to the floor. "Bathroom's this way. You gotta go?"
Zoro had to smirk at how quickly the blond paled.
"Oh, hell no!" he screeched, and Zoro nearly laughed out loud when Sanji's voice jumped up to near falsetto range. "Not unless you're planning on uncuffing me!"
"M'not."
"Then hell no!"
"Suit yourself," Zoro muttered over his shoulder. Then he leaned down to grab ahold of the metal handle attached near the bottom of the door, pulling until the contraption started to slide up along a track on the ceiling, squeaking its rusty protest all the while.
A horizontal line of light drew itself on the floor, growing in height slowly as the sunny morning began to fully flood the room.
Zoro didn't know the exact time, but it was obvious how late it was. Normally, he didn't open the door to blinding sunshine, only the faint purple beginnings of daybreak slithering in, if that.
Normally, he didn't open the door to a bloodcurdling scream either.
"AAAAAHHHH!"
"What the fuck?!" Sanji yelped immediately, Zoro merely pausing with the door half open to roll his eyes.
He used his cuffed hand to thump Sanji hard in the chest to keep him reaching for a gun automatically.
"Don't you dare," he hissed in the blond's face menacingly, then shoved the door up the rest of the way calmly, eyes adjusting to the bright light to find the scream's owner to be exactly who he'd assumed.
It was Usopp, his trusty sniper, silhouetted in the sun, there just outside the door. He was frozen in mid-flight, one leg poised to run, arms thrown over his torso and face to shield himself from danger.
It took him a moment, but eventually, Usopp seemed to come to his senses, let out the breath he'd apparently been holding, and slowly relaxed, pressing a gloved hand to his chest and his thundering heart.
"Don't do that, man! I was just about to knock!" Usopp muttered, brushing a few black curls from his face and tucking them back beneath his bandana. He wasn't afraid of garage doors! Hell no!
Of course, that was when he noticed the strange blond standing beside Zoro-inside his hut-and he froze again, this time in confusion.
Sure, Zoro's closest confidantes had been inside his meager living quarters, but why the hell would someone be coming out with him in the morning?
Zoro hadn't been outside. No one had seen him yet! That was why Usopp had come to check on him! So who was this strange guy emerging with him now…?
Usopp didn't recognize the lanky blond, who squinted sulkily (or was it warily) out at the world. Was he a civilian in their faction?
But was no way. Usopp knew everyone. There were only ninety-three of them, and he knew them all by name. This had to be an outsider….
He wasn't too scary-looking, for an outsider, at least. Aside from his furrowed brow, he actually looked pretty nice, with blue eyes that managed to look kind, non-judgmental somehow, and features that didn't seem hardened by combat or murder or anything terrifying like that.
So Usopp was able to gulp back some of the fear that had quaked through him, puff out his chest a bit, and ask a perfectly normal, "W-Who's this?" with only minimal vocal trembling.
"A prisoner," Zoro stated, lifting his and the stranger's handcuffed wrists. "Caught him trying to make off with some of our food last night. He didn't get far 'fore I knocked him out."
"I have a name, you know!" the blond piped up.
"Shut up," Zoro shot back, then quirked a brow at his ever-so-diligent sniper. "Anyway, dunno how he managed to get past you, Usopp."
"Eheh!"
A nervous laugh escaped the dark-haired man, sweat already beading on his skin the instant Zoro detailed the intruder's attempts. It wasn't like he'd fallen asleep over his sketchpad last night! Hell no! He'd been watching the gates the whole time!
"Th-That's silly! No one gets past me! The great Captain Usopp! Leader of the most fearsome faction known to man!" he justified, jamming a thumb to his chest with false pride.
A pause to see if either of the two were going to protest.
But no one was stopping him. He was only met with a deadpan look from Zoro and a rather baffled expression on the blond's face.
It was quiet, save for a few birds chirping in the distance, oblivious to the strife of the humans. And oblivious to how awkward they were making the moment.
So he continued, mostly to fill that silence, wiping some sweat off his brow.
"I-I mean-we're talking-more tactical than the stealthy Raven Outlaw!" he blabbered, waving hands about grandly. "Better at negotiations than the roguish Crimson Void! And certainly better than that stupid Obsidian Shadow at everything! Hehehe…! I mean-that name! What else is a shadow gonna be-? Gold? It's like-y'know-uhh…"
He trailed off, noticing the broad, almost creepy grin that had spread over Zoro's face, and the look of growing fury on the blond's.
Zoro snickered, stepped forward, dragging his prisoner, and patted Usopp's shoulder as he moved past him.
"Good point," he said proudly, hitching a thumb over his shoulder. "This asshole's from Obsidian Shadow. Come on, Curly Brow. Got rounds to make."
For the third time in hardly five minutes, the sniper froze, a terrified smile on his face, long nose twitching as the man from Obsidian Shadow stumbled past him with an intimidating glare that could surely shatter glass.
"Usopp, s'all good," Zoro called back, just to relieve the other man from his misery. "You can head back to the tower if you want."
"R-Roger that!" the sniper quickly agreed, and then he was off, sprinting across the barren grounds as if his life depended on it, feet kicking up a cloud of dirt as he went.
Zoro smirked to himself at his friend's antics, the smirk growing when the furious grinding of Sanji's teeth became practically audible.
"Stop calling me 'Curly Brow,' you damn mosshead!" growled the blond. "I guess there really is nothing civilized left in the world if you've got all your men programmed to insult other factions at the drop of a fucking hat!"
Zoro merely shrugged, hardly paying attention as he directed his gaze out to the blocks of tiny broken buildings that just barely managed to stand in rows farther down the dirt path. The civilians' barracks, literally reduced to huts at this point.
Franky had done his best to fix them up with limited tools when they'd first taken control of the ruins of the camp, makeshift brick and mortar jobs, but there wasn't much they could do with hardly any supplies and weather conditions that weren't kind.
Even if Nami could help them prepare with her skilled predictions, the fact remained that flimsy tarp still fluttered and waved where roofs should have been, and cool winds still invaded rickety walls.
Zoro's abode had been the most intact of all the buildings, following the Government's attacks, so many years ago. And there wasn't a day that went by where he didn't feel guilty about accepting his comparatively luxurious garage.
"Oh, yeah," he muttered, forcing himself out of his thoughts before he lost focus on the task at hand. Protecting his people. "Can't let you see nothin'."
Even if his prisoner wasn't escaping him, there was still no telling what would happen if secrets about his faction somehow leaked. He wasn't trusting this guy for a second.
So he pulled his bandana from his pocket, brought it right up to Sanji's eyes, the blond realizing what he was doing a second too late. He tried to dance away, but Zoro caught him, quickly securing the makeshift blindfold over his eyes.
"Nice try, idiot," Sanji muttered, already reaching up with his free hand to remove it, but Zoro caught his wrist swiftly, produced a second pair of handcuffs from a clip inside his vest and secured Sanji's other hand to his right wrist as well.
He grinned smugly, proud of his own resourcefulness.
"Nice try, idiot," he mockingly whispered, close to Sanji's ear, just to freak him out, his prisoner predictably cringing and struggling to be free.
He ignored the constant tugs on his arm and the annoying cursing in favor of starting off towards the civilian section of the base, shoving both hands casually in his vest pockets, nearly having to stuff Sanji's hands in as well, but he managed.
Eventually, the irritant began to kick blindly at his ankles, as if he could topple him that easily. Honestly, it was just like taking an ornery dog for a walk. He would've preferred an actual dog though.
"This-is-humiliating-dammit!" the man gritted out with each attempted kick, nearly falling flat on his face when Zoro took an unexpected hard turn. "The least you could do is give me one of my cigarettes!"
"Oh, those," Zoro mumbled absently, trying to remember which was the large stone that he always recognized pointing the way to their sorry excuse for a mess hall.
That rock. The brown one. There it was, next to another identical brown rock and a patch of ugly weeds. He didn't want to go that way. So another abrupt turn.
Oh right, the cigarettes.
"Yeah, I took those."
"WHAT?!"
The furious kicking increased tenfold, as did the cursing.
Zoro merely snickered. He didn't even smoke himself, but it was still fun to think about the pack of sweet, coveted nicotine currently nestled in the pocket of his jeans. Nicotine was for the weak, anyway.
"You better fucking give them back to me," the blond seethed, glaring heatedly at Zoro, even through his blindfold.
"That depends on how you behave. You piss me off? You're not getting them back. Simple."
Sanji could just feel the smirk radiating off the man.
He had never wanted so badly to punch someone in the face before, but this guy was really testing his fucking patience. He was helpless. And he hated it. With these damn handcuffs around his wrists, he had no other option but to oblige to the asshole.
"Fine," he gritted out, his teeth grinding harshly.
With that, he was once again being tugged along. He could tell he was walking along rubbled ground, the small pebbles being crushed by their boots as they did so.
Then they halted only for a second, before he felt the cuffs digging into his skin once more when he was dragged through what he assumed was a doorway.
He was instantly met with the sound of voices from people scattered all around a room. Talking, laughing, he heard it all. Did the voices belong to the civilians of this place?
He let himself be pulled until he was finally guided onto what felt like a stool.
"Hey, Nami, everyone served?"
He heard Zoro's voice question an unknown individual.
"Yeah, just about finished. You're all that's le-who's this?"
His ears perked. It was a woman's voice.
"He's just some idiot who thought it was smart to raid our faction," Zoro bit out.
Sanji held his tongue, refraining him from using any type of foul language—that he so badly wanted to spit out—in front of the lovely-sounding woman.
He only scowled.
The woman—Nami—laughed.
"Wasn't worth it, huh, buddy? Don't be so mean to the guy, Zoro. At least let him see."
Then, he felt a soft brushing of fingers behind his head and found himself staring into big brown eyes, as the bandana was removed.
"There we go." She smiled at him.
A fucking goddess was standing right before his eyes. The woman had long, orange locks held into a ponytail, soft-looking pale skin, and wore a black tank top along with some green camouflage-printed jeans.
To be granted such a beauty made him feel unbelievably lucky to have chosen this faction to raid, with the good fortune of being captured as well.
There were women in his faction, but hardly any young ones, mostly all had been mothers and already had a family to maintain. He couldn't bring himself to flirt with them.
It irritated him beyond belief that such a girl was in a faction with this damn mosshead as leader.
"Thank you, mademoiselle. My name's Sanji, by the way. I'm so terribly sorry we were destined to meet under these circumstances." He smiled apologetically, lifting his cuffed wrists in presentation.
"Nami. I can't leave him without the blindfold," Zoro grumbled in annoyance. "He's gonna go telling his stupid faction just how Emerald works."
"Oh, come on. What is he going to tell them? That we eat food?" she asked sarcastically, shooting him a glare. "Nice to meet you, Sanji~ Ignore this idiot."
Sanji laughed at that, resulting in Zoro sending him a glower, the blond adjusting himself in his seat, trying to retain himself from laughing any more.
Nami rolled her eyes. "You're so complicated, Zoro."
"What? I'm just trying to protect everyone, Nami!"
"Well, it seems you've got everything under control with those ridiculous handcuffs…"
She turned to shoot an apologetic look at the seated blond, who, judging by the lovestruck expression on his face, hardly seemed intimidating. After all, Zoro hadn't killed him yet. That had to mean something. The idiot was a better judge of character than he liked to lead on.
Besides, she knew real thieves. And she also knew that desperation sometimes led good people to do bad things…
Thankfully, desperation did not plague the people of Emerald Peak that day, as it seemed the voices filling the mess hall behind them were rather amiable and relaxed, all things considered. It was certainly a different atmosphere than Obsidian Shadow...more homey almost, despite the rough circumstances.
Sanji turned around in his stool and was able to see from whom the voices were coming. His assumption was right.
Men, women, and children were all scattered across the mess hall, each one seated at their own rickety table, all engaged in conversation.
Some had noticed them walk in and were whispering to each other, a few pointing, mostly at Sanji, while others seemed to be excited that Zoro had arrived and smiled his way.
"You better not be planning on hurting them. I'll kill you before you do."
Sanji jumped in his seat and turned to look at the man, who was staring at him with a threatening look, sipping casually out of a straw from a drink Nami must've handed him when he was distracted.
"I-I wouldn't-"
"Tch, whatever," Zoro deadpanned and looked away.
Sanji felt a little misled at that. He gaped at the side of Zoro's head for a few moments, until Nami broke the tense silence.
"Don't mind him. Zoro's a bit over-protective."
She waved it off, and also handed Sanji a drink. He found it quite a bit odd how nice she was being, despite knowing he could be a potential threat.
Still, he smiled at her.
"Thank you, lovely."
He made the motion to grab it until he realized—to his annoyance—that he was hardly going to be able to do anything with these stupid cuffs on.
And he wasn't going to just bend his head over and sip like some fucking dog.
"Hey. Asshole. At least let one of my hands go, will you?" he spat.
Zoro ignored him.
"Not gonna happen."
"You fucker—!"
He was interrupted when a feminine hand stretched out in front of Zoro abruptly, palm faced up.
"Hand them over," Nami ordered sternly.
Sanji thought Zoro was going to brush her off as he did him, but to his surprise, the man fished the key from his vest pocket and held it out to her obediently, though he looked as though he didn't want to.
She grinned in victory and grabbed it happily.
"I'm not going to listen to you two fighting, but I will give Zoro the benefit of the doubt… I can't trust you just yet either."
As she said this, she unlocked one of Sanji's cuffs and handed the key back to Zoro.
Sanji nodded at her in a grateful silence and sipped his drink as well, the fresh feel of water soothing his parched throat.
"Well, why don't I serve you both some food?" She beamed at the two, then disappeared towards the back.
Sanji couldn't help but glance back at the other man, who only glared at the air in front of him, then at their linked wrists, making him sigh in frustration. Just how long was he going to keep him like this?
"Here ya go, guys," Nami said, returning with two plates, handing one to each.
"Thanks, Nami," Zoro muttered in reply, sending her a tiny smile before digging in, slightly tugging on Sanji's arm as he did so.
Sanji ignored this and only stared at the food he was presented with.
Eggs, pancakes, and bacon.
Breakfast. The mission should have been a success. He should have been back home right now cooking for his people.
Instead, he was here on enemy territory about to have fucking breakfast, while the people at Obsidian Shadow were close to not having food at all.
He felt sick.
"Hey, just where does all your food come from?" he asked curiously, looking up at Nami in hope of an answer.
But before she could say anything, the mosshead butted in.
"Just be happy you got some, Curly Brow. Nami's too damn nice. I'd have let you starve."
For the millionth time that day, Sanji gave the man another glare, then turned to Nami, who only shrugged at him, also refusing to answer his question.
Sanji sighed, supposing it had been worth a shot. Full of dread, he cut his pancake and took a bite, his mind wandering to just how the old man was going to kill him if he was able to escape this place and return back home.
Obsidian Shadow Faction
Her little brother was dead, that was for sure.
First, that weird display at dinner, when he'd gotten up and left in a hurry without eating so much as a bite of his food. He'd given her that look, that small shake of his head.
That morning, breakfast had been meager, even more so than usual.
And now Sanji was nowhere to be seen.
They were low on food, weren't they. There was no other explanation. Nothing else would make her brother freak out like that.
The civilians especially had missed him. Sanji was perhaps the only one who could bring them together.
They missed his smile, and his way of serving that made everyone feel as if they were dining at one of those restaurant places that had been abundant before the government attacks. The adults remembered restaurants more than Reiju and her brothers. Some of the children had never experienced them.
But if only for mealtime, Sanji made them feel as if they weren't outside in a barren courtyard, often under a billowing tarp that did little to protect several dozen people from wind or rain.
Zeff had owned a restaurant though, something her father had likely forgotten, partnering with his weapons manufacturing company, and that alone.
It was clearly something Zeff had divulged to her brother, who was always seen flitting about with such pleasant positivity at serving times that his absence was felt now, and the concern was palpable.
When the fifth person had asked Reiju if Sanji was ill that morning as she passed through the courtyard, she'd made her way to the east tower.
And now she stood in the doorway to his empty room.
A shiver ran down her spine as she stared hard at the gray space, the iron bars over the window, reminders of the fort's days as a prison, letting in the morning light, but little warmth. She pulled the collar of her worn jean jacket up around her neck, crossing arms over her chest to try and warm them.
Their father hadn't been worried about his absence at dinner the night before, and neither had their brothers. In fact, the four of them had seemed relieved to lose the silent, sulky presence that always attended their meals, but never engaged. The blond whom they barely tolerated, barely considered one of them anymore, even if he bore the strongest resemblance to the one they'd all adored.
It hadn't always been like this….
Reiju sighed, noting the suitcases on the floor beneath the cot, one partially open….the imprints where weapons should be.
The last time this had happened, he'd gone on a solo hunting mission. Come back with a few deer, sure, but also a few broken ribs...
It was no use. No amount of staring would discern where her brother was, or make him come back from wherever he'd run off to.
It was unlike her to worry about him. And she wasn't worrying, she told herself as she turned on her heel and made her way across the dimly lit hallway, back down the narrow tower stairs and out the heavy wooden door, into the sunlight again.
The courtyard was emptying out, parents ushering the few children who lived within their faction's walls back inside, to the south wing, where Reiju knew they made their makeshift homes inside some of the more spacious cell blocks.
Zeff had insisted upon it, that the children and elderly especially be assured living space inside the most insulated wings, the ones that still had glass windows intact.
Her father had agreed, provided he and his family take residence in the warden's quarters, the north tower all to themselves.
She remembered feeling glad about it at first, a spoiled thirteen-year-old who longed for the comforts of her old bedroom and could surely never tolerate a prison cell.
Now she'd hardened herself to the guilt her privilege wrought.
She had duties to attend to. She should be checking the antidote stock as she'd promised her father the night before, newly traded in just the previous day from a few rebel Gatecrashers who'd succumbed to the temptation of some handy grenades. Grenades that had unfortunately exploded within their very truck as they drove away. A tragic coincidence, as Father had mused.
Instead, her boots echoed off the stone walls all the way through the heavy doors to the west wing, the formerly administrative block from which her father conducted all of his "business." At least, what "business" there was left to conduct in these lawless times.
This was also where they'd eaten last night, where their food stores and kitchen were, and she knew, as she wove deep into the cavernous halls, down the dark stairs to the basement, that she wouldn't find her brother.
She was no longer looking for him.
Reiju placed a hand on the basement door, chipped paint flaking off, which she wiped onto her black jeans before giving a push, opening it to find Patty, Carne, and her father's right-hand man himself, standing together in the claustrophobic room. Three of them. Not four.
Patty and Carne looked surprised to see her, brows raising to the ceiling, but Zeff merely turned to fix her with his usual calculating stare, between bushy eyebrows and an even bushier mustache.
"He ran," was all she said, pushing a hip against the door to keep it open.
Zeff grunted in response, clearly not shocked by Reiju's deductive reasoning, and not afraid of the potential repercussions this could have for the foolish eggplant should his father find out. The girl was unlikely to rat him out, after all.
"Yeah," the old man admitted. "Took a bike."
"A bike," she repeated with a scoff of disbelief and a small shake of her head. "And just how much food did he think he was going to load onto that, even with the side cars? Was he using his brain at all…?"
Zeff merely grunted again. It was no use criticizing the brat's brash panic-fueled decisions when he was likely already regretting them, wherever he was.
"I'm giving him till tonight," the man grumbled eventually. "If he's not back after dinner, I'm takin' a jeep."
Reiju leveled him with a cool gaze, sensing the determination and concern in this man that hadn't been there in her father. Not since her mother's death.
Perhaps it was cruel to be jealous of Sanji, who'd become so reviled by their father and brothers, but who'd also become so revered in the eyes of this man, whose eyes now watched her in challenge, as if she would try and stop him from going after Sanji.
"If he's not back after dinner, I'm coming with you," she said to Zeff, now challenging him to stop her.
Perhaps their father didn't hate her, but she couldn't always say she had his love.
There was one thing for sure. He never looked at her with even a flicker of the subtle warmth and gratitude that flashed over Zeff's face.
Somewhere within the East Blue ruins
"Boss! Boss!"
The loud creak of metal sounded in the room as the heavy doors pushed their way in, slamming shut a few seconds later after the two Gatecrashers tumbled in.
"Whaddya want?"
Blackbeard sat at his usual seat, made as if for a king, which he basically proclaimed himself as. He set down the blade he was sharpening and looked up to stare at the two with a bored expression. The fact that one of them was injured didn't seem to worry him in the slightest.
The non-injured one stood right before his chair, holding up his fellow Gatecrasher beside him with his arm slung over his shoulder. The man's head was wrapped in bandages, blood still seeping through, while a sling was the only thing supporting his left arm.
Grossly-colored bruises aligned his face, mostly covering his cheeks, small, fresh ones decorating his jaw. As a matter of fact, he looked horrible.
"Roronoa and Straw Hat beat up four of our men, killed one of them," he said desperately, looking for any type of help from his Leader.
"And? What do you want me to do about it?" Blackbeard asked coldly, making the two men's eyes widen in fear. "They're injured. They're useless. Kill the rest."
"B-But, Boss-"
"You're wasting my time. Leave."
"They took some containers of medicine we had-"
Blackbeard froze, jaw and fist clenching, the words processing through him.
"What?" he strained furiously.
The two men gulped.
"T-They took some of our medicine. We're v-very sorry, Boss."
His fists unclenched and a wicked grin spread across his face, slowly.
"Well, we'll just have to get them back then, won't we? Zeehahahaha…."
TBC...