Title: One to a Thousand
Rating: M for language, adult themes and sexual content
Disclaimer: I do not own One Piece
Spoiler Warning: Takes place after the time skip.
CHAPTER FOUR
Two weeks later, the members of the Strawhat Pirates engaged in a difficult battle, as they tended to do at most of the islands they explored. Like usual, they met with victory, and they all sustained some varying degree of injury. Also like usual, when the battle was over, Chopper patched them up and they embarked out at sea again, ready to reach the next island the log pose directed them to.
However, this time, they had to briefly delay their usual post-battle revelries until their ship's cook was up to the task of preparing a banquet lavish enough to satiate Luffy's tremendous appetite.
Sanji's life certainly had not been in danger, but he was a bit more bashed and bruised than usual—and certainly more than anyone else on the ship.
"It's unusual for Sanji to get injured worse than Luffy and Zoro," Chopper had remarked as has he bandaged his numerous wounds. Sanji's brow twitched with irritation, but he chose not to respond to the comment—although it would be a different story if Zoro said something similar to him.
After carefully examining the cook's movements to see how his body was moving and treating the injuries he could, Chopper issued his doctor's order: one day of rest. No more, but certainly no less.
At first, Sanji had ignored it, but after few barking commands from Nami, he agreed to spend a day resting in the sick bay. "But only because Nami-swan is worried about me," he cried out affectionately to the navigator, who was staring back at him with an unamused expression, lips pursed and arms crossed.
Despite his opposition to resting, his body did feel exhausted, so he was able to fall asleep quite early in the evening.
When he woke up in the middle of the night, he was startled to see a large ball of moss next to the bed, slightly taller than the level of his mattress. Gingerly, he sat up, groggily groping for a light in the unfamiliar room.
As soon as the room was illuminated, he frowned deeply. It was indeed some kind of moss next to his bed, but it was in the form of a shitty marimo who still had that shitty ability of being able to fall asleep anywhere at any time, even if said place happened to be on the floor next to his bed.
Really, what the hell was the swordsman doing in there, anyway? He usually passed out in the Crow's Nest, only occasionally making it to the men's quarters... In fact, every once in a while, he passed out on the deck, and Sanji would find him still outside when he got up to make breakfast, snoring loudly. But this... The cook wasn't sure why the hell he chose this night to decide to sleep in the sick bay.
It didn't seem plausible that Zoro was there for him; after all, he had never really sought Sanji out by himself, and it wasn't like the swordsman had been any closer to him lately. His mind drifted back to their exchange on Coleherne Island. That night seemed almost surreal to him now, as though he had never had such an unsettling conversation with the marimo... as though they hadn't shared such embarrassing words, or such a poignant embrace.
Since they had returned, the two men had resumed their normal, antagonistic exchanges with one another. There wasn't even the slightest irregularity in Zoro's behavior that would hint that the events of that night had taken place.
Sanji felt like the only difference was in himself; every time he was around the other man, there was a piercing apprehension that started to flood him. Even now, as he stared at the green ball in front of him, he could feel his chest tighten.
Irritated at both the remembrance of that night and at the man nonchalantly snoozing next to his bed, he clutched green hair between his fingers and sharply yanked back. Zoro awoke with a small cry of protest.
"Oi, what the hell was that for?" he said indignantly, turning around to look at Sanji, anger carved into his brow.
"How about you tell me why the hell you're sleeping next to my bed?" Sanji glared back at him, reaching for his pack of cigarettes and lighter on the table next to him.
The agitated swordsman pulled himself to his feet. "I was waiting for you to wake up. I came to talk to you, but you went to sleep so damn early."
"Yeah, well, I'm up now," he muttered as he lit his cigarette. "So what the hell do you want?"
Zoro glanced away for a moment, a dour look on his face.
Several seconds ticked by, and Sanji felt his temper slowly rising—as well as his anxiety. "Don't say you came to talk to me and then not say anything, bastard," he said through gritted teeth.
"How are your injuries?" Zoro asked. The serious gaze that the swordsman set on Sanji instantly made him feel uncomfortable.
Eh? Did he come here just to check on me? he wondered skeptically, taken aback.
After a long pause and a pensive drag from the cigarette, Sanji blew out a long stream of smoke. "You could have just asked Chopper about that..."
Zoro ignored him. "From what I saw, it looked like most of his blows got you on the head and chest. Where else?"
Sanji raised a curled eyebrow at him, bewildered at the other man's intensity. "It was no big deal... mostly just cuts and scrapes. The one on my head was probably the worst, but even that's fine," he said, brushing his hand against the white bandage wrapped around his forehead.
"What about your arms? Legs?"
Why the hell am I getting drilled on this? Sanji wondered with irritation, furrowing his brow deeper and deeper as the line of questions continued, trying to keep his breathing steady.
"Some scapes on my arms, but my legs are fine," he replied curtly.
"I see," Zoro nodded. Suddenly he raised his arm in the air and slammed a sharp elbow down on Sanji's right knee. "Idiot, what the hell were you thinking out there?!" the swordsman roared, an unusual intonation of anger present in his voice.
"What the hell, you shitty marimo," Sanji gasped breathlessly from the burst of pain that followed, cigarette tumbling out of his mouth. Cursing, he frantically groped for the cigarette with one hand before it burned the bed sheets, while grabbing his throbbing knee with the other.
"The hell was that for?!" he shouted finally, when the cigarette had been placed back in his mouth and the throb had lessened enough for him to be able to focus his attention on the swordsman.
"For being so damned stupid out there, bastard," Zoro replied darkly.
"Why check on my injuries if you're just going to injure me even more?" he asked with outrage.
Zoro scoffed, a deep scowl on his face. "Check on your injuries? Tch, I just didn't want to hit a place that was already hurt. I don't give a damn about how you're feeling, you deserve every one of those wounds you got, dumbass cook."
"The hell are you saying?! You were taking on three of the strongest men in their group, and I saw a fourth man sneaking up on you. I jumped in because—"
"I don't care what your stupid reason was, dartboard-brow. I had it under control," Zoro interrupted lowly. "You put yourself right in the way of an attack that I was about to evade."
"How was I supposed to know that, shitty swordsman? To me, it looked like there was no way you could've even known it was coming, let alone block it or get out of the way in time." Vehemently, he puffed on the cigarette. "Not to mention that I had seen him use some kind of ability earlier, and I had no idea whether you knew about it—"
"I don't need you to save me or protect me," Zoro's voice boomed, cutting him off. "If you want to help, then take care of the enemies you're already fighting." His eye narrowed, his furious gaze fixed sharply on Sanji as he said his next words. "You will not take a blow for me again." The swordsman's harsh words were very clearly a command and not a request.
Sanji paused for a moment. He wanted to argue with him, but he was too baffled by Zoro's sudden intense flare of emotion to put together a decent comeback.
The cook averted his gaze for a moment, slowly taking a drag on his cigarette as he tried to recall exactly what had happened. It was true, he was a bit reckless in the way he threw himself between Zoro and the enemy—but it looked like Zoro hadn't noticed the furtive attack and Sanji had no time to consider the consequences. He had acted on instinct, was all.
"Tch, you're the last person in the world who gets to lecture someone over self-sacrifice," Sanji pointed out, furrowing his brow.
Zoro's mouth twitched slightly at his words.
"I knew the attack wouldn't injure me that badly, as long as I was prepared for it. And I'm fine, so there's no damn point in bringing it up now, marimo."
Although his jaw was visibly clenched, Zoro had no retort as he averted his gaze to the ground.
"If that's all you had to say," Sanji went on, "then get the hell out of here."
The swordsman turned away slightly, his eye still fixed on the floor, shadows looming over his eyes.
"Well?" Sanji asked, after a long pause. He took an agitated drag off of his cigarette as he glared at Zoro, waiting for him to leave.
"... a little longer," he muttered, the low rumble of his voice barely audible.
"I didn't hear that."
"I said, I feel like staying a little longer," he repeated a bit more loudly as he peevishly crossed his arms.
"Hah? Why?" Sanji's eyebrow twitched madly as he stared at Zoro in exasperation.
"Move over," Zoro said, abruptly taking a seat on the side of Sanji's bed.
"No way," Sanji protested reflexively, trying to shove the swordsman away. "What the hell are you doing?!"
Yet after a moment of bickering and shoving each other back and forth, Sanji conceded, sliding over slightly so that Zoro could have more room to sit. Or at least, that's what he thought Zoro was going to do. He let out a cry of surprise as the swordsman flopped next to him on the narrow bed, stretching his arms above him to prop his head up as he laid down next to Sanji.
The cook's heart skipped a beat, before settling in to a considerably more rapid heartbeat. Nothing had really happened to the two of them since they were in the alleyway together all those weeks ago, so to say he was merely startled by Zoro's actions was not quite sufficient. He tried his best to relax, but the warmth of the swordsman's body pressed against his side on the narrow bed was having an opposite effect.
"Oi, you're not sleeping here," Sanji warned.
"I wasn't planning on it," Zoro replied.
Yet as the seconds ticked by, Sanji wasn't actually sure what Zoro was planning on doing. They both laid on their backs, sides and hips squished next to each other, staring up at the ceiling in silence. Zoro kept his hands tucked behind his head, while Sanji had his in front of him as he restlessly sucked down his cigarette. They were so close... How could the shitty swordsman be so calm?
Then he realized the cigarette had been reduced to nothing but the butt. Glancing to his left, he saw there was nowhere to set it down, though; the ashtray was on the stand to his right, which would require him leaning over the other man to get to. After staring at the smoldering butt with a perplexed expression for a few moments, Zoro wordlessly reached over and grabbed it from him, their fingertips brushing as he plucked it from the cook's hands and mashed it down in the ashtray to his right.
"Ah, thanks," Sanji muttered, quickly pulling his hand back toward him, still feeling a tingling sensation in his fingers where the swordsman had lightly touched him.
Zoro nodded, but he still didn't speak. Really, that silence was worst of all; it made Sanji's imagination start to churn with ideas about why the other man was there. None of the swordman's actions seemed to make sense to him, and no matter how many ridiculous ideas he came up with, they all seemed inconceivable. What the hell was he trying to do?
But in the end, Zoro did nothing. Instead, at right around the time when Sanji's mind was reaching its most frenzied state, the other man finally spoke.
"I don't know why the hell you tried to take my place that day, but you don't owe me any kind of debt or favor for it." Zoro's tone was unusually subdued.
A flicker of uncertainty crossed Sanji's face. That day... Without asking and without any further explanation, he knew Zoro was talking about that day at Thriller Bark. That awful day, when Zoro had prepared to sacrifice his life, and when Sanji had miserably failed at trying to take his place.
"I never once thought that I did," Sanji replied honestly.
Zoro turned his head to glare at him. "Then don't be so damn reckless."
"You know, I would have done what I did today for any one of our nakama," Sanji said, returning the other man's look with an angry glare of his own. Turned toward each other as they laid side by side, their faces were alarmingly close, but Sanji didn't notice as he continued his explanation. "The only difference between you and them is that you're strong enough to handle more powerful enemies. But this time, it looked like you didn't see that attack coming, so I jumped in. I was going to take a hell of a lot less damage if I was prepared to block it than if it hit you by surprise."
"Tch, I would have blocked it."
"I had no way of knowing that!" Sanji objected, his face contorting angrily as he leaned in slightly closer with the effort of his outburst.
It was at that moment Sanji became aware of their closeness. Although they had argued like this so many times before, with their faces practically touching, it felt somehow different and awkward now. Quickly, Sanji turned away, his cheeks feeling slightly warmer than they should have.
"Just don't do it again," Zoro sighed, turning his gaze back toward the ceiling.
"I can't promise that. If you don't want me to get hurt trying to save your ass, then just don't get into situations where I feel like I need to."
Unexpectedly, despite the heavy atmosphere, Zoro chuckled. "I guess that's fair enough."
The conversation died after that, and Sanji felt his eyelids start to grow heavy. As some point, he felt a rough hand reach down and tentatively wrap its fingers around his, and he languidly grabbed back, too groggy to think about it very much.
After all, it wasn't like the hand felt that bad...
That night, he slept deeply and peacefully, not awakening again until morning.
Sanji woke up with a gasp. His body felt stiff and sore all throughout; payment for all the injuries he had sustained the day before, no doubt.
Sleepily opening his eyes, he stared at the empty wall in front of him. Currently laying on his left side, Sanji cautiously started to roll onto his back so that he could try to force his aching body into a sitting position. However, he quickly became aware of a very large, very warm object behind him that was preventing him from rolling backward.
Sanji froze, suddenly fully aware of his surroundings. Not only was there a person laying behind him, but said person's strong arm was securely wrapped around his waist. Worse still, Sanji's arms were hugged against the other person's muscular forearm. And the absolute worst... there was no doubt who that arm belonged to.
The cook yanked his arms back in surprise.
As much as he wanted to violently propel the marimo out of the bed, as he tried to push him, he realized he was excruciatingly stiff from his injuries. Gritting his teeth, he contemplated trying again... but if he attempted and failed at something as simple as shoving the other man a few feet away from him, and Zoro happened to wake up in the process... The swordsman would undoubtedly pounce on the opportunity to harass him over it. He would be hearing about it for days. No way—it definitely wasn't worth the risk.
Frustrated, he settled for shoving the other man's arm off of him.
"Shitty swordsman, I said you weren't sleeping here," Sanji muttered darkly.
He was met with a sleepy grunt.
Sanji aimed an elbow backward, sharply hitting the other man in his side. "Get up, dammit."
"Ouch," the swordsman muttered groggily, beginning to stir. "Oi, the hell was that for?" he said a bit more alertly, suddenly realizing another person was the source of the discomfort in his ribs.
Sanji started to reply, but then the worst sound he could possibly imagine echoed across the room: the click of the doorknob.
It happened all too fast for him to prevent it or even bark out a command at Zoro to avoid it. The sound of the opening door was followed by hurried footsteps—the short, rapid clicks of hooves, to be precise—followed by a sweet-sounding voice gently calling out to Sanji to see if he was awake.
Zoro, whose back was facing the door, turned to glance at the source of the sound, still rubbing sleep from his eye.
Sanji heard the clatter of something light and metallic crashing to the ground. Now that Zoro had turned away from him, the cook started to push himself upright, struggling to hold back a wince of pain.
"Eh? Ehh? EHHHHH?!" Chopper's panicked cry felt like it pierced right through him. The innocent reindeer clearly could not fathom why Zoro was groggily pulling himself out of the bed that should have been only occupied by Sanji.
Sanji felt sick to his stomach; this was the worst possible situation he could imagine.
Meanwhile, Zoro appeared completed unfazed. "What is it?" he asked Chopper nonchalantly, yawning loudly.
"Wh-wh-why are you sleeping with Sanji—"
"We didn't sleep together!" Sanji interjected.
"But it looks like Zoro just woke up?!" Chopper tried to explain, flailing wildly as his gaze flitted back and forth between the two men.
"I got tired when I came down to see the ero-cook, so I went to sleep," Zoro replied matter-of-factly, as though the lame excuse was a perfectly reasonable explanation.
There's no way he's just going to be okay with that, Sanji thought blackly. Nervously, he glanced back at the reindeer, whose jaw was still hanging open in shock.
But suddenly, Chopper's expression relaxed, as he blinked at Zoro in surprise. "Oh... Really? Is that all?"
With a snap, all of the tension in the room seemed to evaporate.
... Eh? That is all he needs?! Sanji thought, completely stupefied, his own jaw now hanging open in astonishment.
Zoro nodded affirmatively at Chopper, rising to his feet. "And now I'm going to get some more sleep," he mumbled, gesturing at them sleepily as he exited the room.
"Oh, Zoro," Chopper ran to the doorway and leaned out, calling after him. "Are you going to the Crow's Nest? I'm going to come change your bandages after I'm done with Sanji, okay?"
Sanji didn't hear the swordsman's reply, but seemingly satisfied, Chopper rushed back over to him, picking up the metal tray and items he had dropped earlier.
As Chopper adeptly tended to cleaning and re-bandaging Sanji's wounds while asking him questions about how he was feeling, Sanji's stomach felt like it was twisting in knots. He knew it was inevitable; Chopper was going to ask about the shitty marimo, and he wasn't going to know how to answer it. In fact, as each second ticked by, the cook grew increasingly stunned that for all of the questions the young doctor was asking him, not a single one was about Zoro.
Really, Chopper was often naive or gullible to an almost exaggerated extent, but this just seemed like too much. And even if Chopper didn't find anything odd about Zoro's lackadaisical explanation, if he mentioned it to any other crew member, they would definitely draw the wrong impression... Or perhaps more accurately, the right impression.
Sanji's mind reeled; was it the right impression? He recalled the feeling of the tranquilizing arm gripping him as he awakened a short while ago, and he felt his chest tighten as he thought that there may be a part of him that wanted it to be.
But even if that were the case—and he didn't want to admit whether or not it was—there was no way the crew learning about it would be something he would ever want. Even just imagining his crew mates knowing about his few exchanges with Zoro in the past made his stomach feel like it was being tied in knots.
He shook his head, as though it would make all of these unwanted thoughts tumble out of his mind, forcing his attention back to the matter at hand, which was figuring out what Chopper's impression was.
Finally, he could bear it no longer. He had to figure out what the young doctor thought, and clear the air, even if it meant fibbing to the overly-trusting reindeer—although even he wasn't sure what the truth was anymore, he realized. Still, something had to be said, and he could not hesitate another moment. He turned his head to look back at Chopper, who was currently cleaning a wound on his lower back.
"Oi, listen, about earlier, and what that shitty swordsman said..." he started. However, the troubled expression on the reindeer's face quickly made him forget what he was going to say. "...Chopper?"
The reindeer looked up at him with a serious face. "These scrapes on your back... They aren't very deep, but for some reason, they aren't closing even though it's been over half a day."
"Hah? What does that mean?"
"Normally the healing process begins almost immediately," Chopper explained. "As soon as the wound is formed, your blood starts to coagulate around it, and when it's shallow like this, it should close up and scab over quickly. Usually when that doesn't happen, it indicates that you have some kind of ailment that's making you not heal... But all of your other wounds are healing normally, it's just this particular group of scrapes."
Chopper stared at it a moment longer, his expression gravely serious. Then he snapped out of it and smiled at Sanji. "Ah, but luckily they aren't very deep, so you're not in danger or anything. It will be bad if they don't heal soon, though." He returned his attention back to the wound. "I'm going to look into what it might be, but for now you should be okay as long as its kept bandaged."
Sanji nodded slowly. "I see. Well, I won't worry about it too much since I have a good doctor."
"Saying things like that won't make me happy, idiot!" Chopper cried out cheerfully, a huge grin overtaking his face as he tried to glare furiously at the blonde man.
A few minutes later, Chopper finished up with Sanji and announced that he was going to go check on the rest of the crew.
It was not until the reindeer left the room that he suddenly remembered.
Dammit, I didn't talk to him about Zoro's lame explanation...
While it was true that Sanji wasn't overly concerned with the cuts on his back not healing—after all, how bad could a couple of measly scratches be, even if they weren't healing right?—he was mortified about Chopper seeing Zoro sharing a bed with him.
He returned to his earlier concern, over why the shitty marimo had crawled into that bed with him in the first place. Why the hell would he do something like sleep next to him, holding his hand...
The cook pressed a hand to his mouth in horror at the recollection. That's right, we fell asleep holding hands, he thought with shame.
He reached for his pack of cigarettes on the stand by the bed. Placing one of the slightly bent sticks in his mouth, he lit it and took a heavy drag. He covered his face with his hands, an abrupt realization coming to mind: it was going to be really troublesome if this kept happening.
Sanji closed his eyes as he leaned back against the wall of the kitchen, a cigarette loosely dangling from his mouth. It was peculiar; he felt completely drained of energy. Despite that fact that cleaning the kitchen tonight had not been nearly as strenuous as the day before, when he had spent all morning cleaning up after their belated celebratory dinner, it was today that was really getting to him.
Just the meager effort of cleaning dishes and surfaces, and putting everything in its proper place, had utterly exhausted him. In fact, it wasn't just exhaustion; he felt slightly dizzy and short of breath, and even resting was not making him feel completely normal.
He thought he might have heard faint footsteps coming from the dining hall, but he did not really feel up to socializing while he was feeling like this. Since his body was obscured by counter tops, it was likely whoever it was would not realize he was there, even if they glanced into the kitchen... unless they walked all the way into the room.
And unfortunately, that was exactly happened. More unfortunately, he could tell exactly who it was just from the obnoxious aura emanating from him. He slowly opened one eye and glanced up, brow already furrowing in irritation. "What the hell do you want, shitty swordsman?"
Conversing with Zoro had to be at the bottom of his list for things he felt like doing. He didn't like how he felt ill at ease around him; how his stomach started doing flip-flops and his head seemed to ache. It made him feel weak, and he didn't want to deal with it. Not to mention they had barely exchanged any words since that idiot marimo had slept in his bed a few nights prior, and each time he saw his face, he felt the anger as well as the discomfort within himself increase.
Zoro crossed his arms, and from his stupid, smug expression, Sanji already knew he was about to say something aggravating. His eyebrow twitched involuntarily in anticipation.
But suddenly, Zoro's expression turned sober. "Oi, what's wrong with you?" he asked.
"I have a shitty marimo hovering over me," Sanji shot back. He was perplexed that the swordsman had noticed anything, as he was merely sitting on the floor and didn't think he was giving away any tells that something was wrong.
"I'm trying to be serious," the green-haired man said, furrowing his brow.
"So am I," Sanji replied, rubbing his temples in annoyance.
"Dumbass cook, I'm not trying to—" he started, obviously becoming irritated. "I mean, you look really pale," he finally said, his tone softened and unexpectedly genuine.
Sanji felt the vein in his forehead twitch. It was the second time he had heard the swordsman raise that concern, and considering how unpleasant it had been the first time—when they were together at Coleherne Island—he did not have any interest in continuing whatever conversation Zoro wanted to have with him.
Wordlessly, Sanji rose to his feet. A wave of dizziness passed over him, but with determination, he tried to mask it. He wouldn't show Zoro any weakness. "If you didn't come here for anything, I'm leaving."
"Do I need to have a reason to come here?" he asked.
Sanji paused. He felt like the tone of the question should have been antagonizing, but instead, it seemed almost matter-of-fact. Phrasing-wise, it was same kind of comment he would make when they were arguing about something inconsequential, but the inflection seemed to make the meaning... different, somehow.
"No, but usually you would have one," Sanji said finally, feeling a little off balance about the unusual tone of their conversation... But come to think of it, he felt literally off balance from his light-headedness, so perhaps that was the real cause.
"Tch, that doesn't mean I'd tell you what it was, nosebleed," Zoro replied, in a much more typical, aggressive tone.
Sanji clenched his teeth in annoyance.
"Well, do whatever the hell you want. I'm leaving," he replied, taking an unsteady footstep forward.
Immediately, he froze, inwardly cursing at himself as he paused to glance back at Zoro and prayed he did not notice the stumble. To his dismay, the swordsman was watching him all too intently.
But then, it wasn't like Sanji expected Zoro not to notice, when he had already perceived something was amiss. It was infuriating that the green-haired man had the ability to be perceptive in situations like these—especially since he was completely dense most of the time.
The real problem for Sanji, however, was not the bothersome swordsman, but rather, the weakness in his knees. His legs were undoubtedly the strongest part of his body—his deadly weapons—so to have his knees feel like they might buckle from the mere act of standing was beyond unsettling. That kind of frailty was unacceptable.
Oddly enough, the room seemed to be growing rapidly darker, even though there were still a couple hours of daylight left. He wondered if there was a storm outside, and opened his mouth to voice the thought, but it seemed to be a bit difficult to speak. Then the room grew even darker, so that he could barely see in front of him.
Then everything sank into an impenetrable blackness.