Roronoa22 asked: "...I'd love to read something where Zoro puts himself in harms way to protect Sanji in a fight..." Warning: Character Death
He was trying not to let himself be cornered, asserting himself forward to avoid the sudden sheer drop down to the pebbled shore below with its haggard surface and unforgiving juts of rock with no barrier for safety keeping him apart from it. His muscles burned with the acid of not having enough time to catch his breath nor regulate his breathing in any way and he tried to keep his attacks concise and sharp, not wasting time on fancy footwork and high, gymnastic kicks. His opponent was not to be underestimated and, scarily, was giving him very little room in which to work with. The cook of the Straw Hat crew swung out wide and low to the disappointment of no connection with the flesh of the other and the slight panic that he'd almost left himself open in the worry of keeping away from that precarious cliff edge and the certified damage and pain it would cause if he fell off. His pride would not let him loose; he had not trained two years in what he perceived to be Hell itself to be beaten like this, and there was also that nagging voice inside that kept him focused on the probability that if he went down then his attacker was free to move on to any of them next: Robin, Nami, Usopp, Chopper, Franky, Brook, Luffy, and even Zoro. He had a dream to achieve but first and foremost, the safety of his Nakama came first every time whether it was feeding them or fighting for them, as long as he was here he'd see that none of them were hurt beyond return.
This myriad of thoughts began clogging his mind, turning his reaction time to that of a viscous liquid slow and sluggish. He was losing it. The grass beneath their feet was thinning out, balding into dirt and alerting him to the inevitable drop that beckoned him. The enemy with his Haki hardened skin raised an arm before Sanji had time to register that he shouldn't be lashing out. He was flailing under anger and panic as it sort out its wrath inside of him and, too late to pull out of his mistake, unleashed a kick that halted abruptly as it met the other's arm. There was a jolted moment of nothing until jarring agony blasted up his leg in one fiery inferno, resonating up his spine and shaking him to his core. His supporting knee buckled and his hands slipped out on instinct to catch him, palms scraping along hard ground and soft skin splitting under the harsh treatment, already burning with the stings of dirtied cuts.
The pain left him dazed and his thoughts left him paralysed as the realisation that he'd failed was setting in. Oddly guilt should be the first thing on his mind rather than concern for his own life as the other, now towering over him, hoisted him up by his mangled suit jacket and held him out at a long arms length. The lack of stable ground beneath him told the blond what he already knew, just reinforcing it in his mind for cruel laughter of a higher being, and he felt the cliff behind him in the fingers of wind fresh from the sea tugged at his hair and face as ruthlessly as the ocean itself like it was trying to lure him up, up into the air to join it before he'd plummet. The all consuming guilt of knowing that he'd failed his friends that relied on him as much as they did the others was the only thing that mattered and no amount of apology could ever replace his broken promise to protect them. He would die here, forgotten by the rest of the world save for eight people who would forever remember him as the one who couldn't keep his word. He closed his eyes and waited, hysterically marvelling at the fact that time seemed to move much slower when death was at play as he hung there. Waiting for the consequence of his failings and rushed actions.
At no point had the possibility of a rescue crossed his mind and the brutality of being bodily rammed aside had him opening his eyes in shock to an incoherent blur of colour before closing them again tightly as the force of impact rattled his bones and the flesh of his cheek met the coolness and tickling of blades of grass. He forced himself into alertness once more but the picture of the scene unfolding took a while to focus in his blurry eyes and even longer to process. His surroundings were easy to take in. He was but a few feet away from the partner of his losing fight with the lower half of his face and his body pressed into the grass whereas the upper half was resting against the cold rock of the overhang of the cliff's edge, giving him a spectacular view of the slope down to the beach below where the waves licked patiently, all the way up to the two men now stood on the edge.
He'd thought delirium must've taken over his rational thoughts because that other man, stocky and shorter than the looming Haki user, couldn't have been Zoro. It had been for some time now an unspoken rule between the two of them that though they have each other's backs, interfering with either's fights was strictly forbidden. Both of them had a ridiculous amount of pride that only seemed to rear its head when provoked by one another and under no circumstances did Sanji want to allow Zoro to win his battles and Zoro felt likewise.
He had a compelling urge to call out to the pirate and let him know that this was a problem he could handle himself but something in the way the other was looking at him prevented him from doing so. He never thought he'd ever apply it to the man but Zoro was undeniably concerned and irrevocably angry. Rage was clawed into every aspect of his features and stance, but his hate was not directed as it usually was towards Sanji but to the man that he was facing off. The blond wanted to tell him to stop, to get him away before he got hurt too and fulfilled that guilt that had embedded itself in him already to consume him from the inside out. Yet his voice, quiet from the shock and pain, would not carry over the screams of metal on metal or the exhortations of both Nakama and enemy alike. All he could do was lie there with his view of the cliff and the sea and reach out his arm slightly, as though his bleeding palm and digits could pull Zoro towards him and out of harm's way.
He understood what Zoro was doing, if it were the swordsman in danger he'd be doing the same thing because sometimes... sometimes pride had to be set aside to make way for the more important things like your friends and their lives. Sanji felt no real spite towards the green haired man and in all honesty he never really had. Zoro was important and always would be regardless of the way the cook treated him because he was Nakama and that always came first above all. But he didn't want to live through this again. This scene was recalling painful memories of a rescue from Zoro before. From when he'd almost got himself killed and Sanji had screamed for Chopper to help as the swordsman bled out. Zoro had almost died the last time he'd saved the blond and Sanji had guilt enough from that experience and now Zoro was helping to dig that well in his consciousness deeper.
It all happened in short, quick successions that Sanji would come later to process in the Infirmary consumed by his grief and self-loathing. The Haki user was suddenly at the edge before he stumbled and disappeared out of sight down a side of the cliff hidden from his view and Zoro stood as the victor, his swords still held out in front of him, but Sanji had an inkling that something wasn't right. The swordsman was upright but with a curve in his back, like was hunched over and waiting for something. Something that came in a vile hack of wounded organs as blood, thick and congealed drooled from an open mouth leaving a stunned silence to settle before the hurl of vomiting red barrelled its way in. Zoro's swords clattered to the ground, Wado stained red on her pure white hilt from her master's blood, and the man staggered a few steps back.
Sanji let out a cry that only ever came out at speaking level. Just one simple word, as if it could change anything, "No..."
Zoro's foot slipped on the edge of the rock and hung there a second, two, three, and Sanji found himself praying that some sort of help would come or it'd pan out like those comic strips in the newspapers that Nami bought: that Zoro would fall into a comical splat but pop up again soon after, or that he could quickly run out of the air and back onto solid ground. But comics weren't real and this was reality with its unforgiving gravity and its laws of physics. Zoro blinked once and fell.
Sanji didn't know if it was better or worse that the angle the swordsman fell at was directly in his line of sight, looking out over the cliff edge. On one hand he wasn't able to worry about what happened to him if he couldn't see him, but on the other he'd have to live through what he'd seen.
Zoro's descent was not an easy one and he prayed that the man had lost consciousness after the first large rock leaning out from the cliff face collided with his head. The swordsman was limp and tumbled down like a rag doll cast aside by a spoilt child as gravity worked its vile magic on him, smashing his body off rocks and ridges and juts and finally catching him at the last distance before rolling him steadily to a halt in the damper sand where the waves danced.
Sanji waited though he wasn't sure what for, it wasn't as though Zoro was going to get back up after that but some part of his mind clung on to the dwindling hope that he would. He aimed his thoughts at the broken body with its limbs akimbo as though he could will him somehow to get back up, to be alright. The dream like hope Sanji had surrounded himself in shattered like sugar glass at the eerily dark patch that wept its way out into the sand from under Zoro, looking like an angry blemish on perfect skin. It kept coming back, no matter how often the soft waves rushed up to wash it away. Sanji's eyes burned something furious and a hollow, disturbing feeling latched onto him and festered there, feeding off this image he was seeing. Only two things were important in his mind as he lay there, looking down at his Nakama who was splayed out oddly on the shore; one, Zoro was dead, two, it was all his fault.
Sanji allowed himself one torn sob but he was certain more had followed after as he was left to lie there, looking at Zoro's body as the battle continued on, unable to wash the awful image of the man's fall from his guilt laden mind.