The weeks that followed were a ridiculous mix of island hopping, Marine battling, and lazing about on the open sea. Things were officially back to normal, how they used to be, and it was a comfort to them all after two years of separation.

This was what they'd missed. This was what they'd all fought so hard to get back to - to keep this until they all reached their dreams.

Maybe some of them got a little too stir-crazy when they were out at sea for too long, but the joy of being together again seemed to appease even that. Luffy in particular hadn't been heard complaining of boredom or lack of meat yet, and that was rather miraculous in and of itself.

In some ways, Zoro found himself relaxing.

He remembered all too well those final days before they were separated.

He'd trained harder than he ever had, despite being more gravely injured than ever, after Thriller Bark. He'd holed himself up in the crow's nest for most of those days, throwing weights around, pushing himself to his limits because he had people to protect, and failure was absolutely not an option.

He'd distanced himself.

But now, he didn't have to.

He was exponentially stronger, he knew. And so was his crew. He'd seen proof, and his silent pride for them was probably obvious.

After all, Zoro couldn't exactly hide the smirks that crossed his face whenever Usopp took out a whole Navy ship on his own with one of his new Pop Green attacks, or Chopper knocked down fifty attackers at once with Kung Fu Point.

And that didn't even cover how strong his captain had become…

They were ready for anything now, and they were damn well going to take the New World by storm.

But Zoro had not been ready for the cook to disappear, and he had not been prepared for just how fucking annoying it would be.

Things were quieter, sure. No more listening to the blond's stupid mellorine'ing or sorry attempts at flirting with the girls. No more insults thrown his way just for fucking breathing.

But that also meant he couldn't hear another voice of reason when Luffy got too out of hand….

He couldn't hear him during battle, couldn't hear his cursing or his ridiculous flowery attack names that were really dumb but always an indicator of where he was at least. There had been more than a few occasions, particularly in the first few days after leaving that town, that Zoro had felt a twinge of panic run through him when only seven of his crewmates were accounted for in battle, as far as he could see.

It usually went away quickly, when he located a horde of Marines shrieking in pain and falling over unconscious for seemingly no reason, smelled a whiff of cigarette smoke in the air. But it was still enough to trip him up, give him pause in a fight, break his rhythm.

Zoro blamed it on the lingering separation anxiety that even he knew he'd suffered from. He hadn't expected to, but dammit, his bond with these people ran deep, and even their stoic, mighty swordsman could admit that.

Of course, his friends were strong as fuck. They could handle themselves, but with even one of them out of place, things felt off. And yes, he reluctantly accepted that applied to the shit cook as well.

Because he wasn't liking what it was doing to him, slowly but surely. It was frustrating him, irritating him to the point where he wanted to pick a fight just to burn off steam, but there was no one now.

He'd tried sparring with Franky, and Luffy even. But it just wasn't-

Fuck. What? Was he going to get all melodramatic? Think it wasn't the same?

Well...yes. Yes, he was, because it wasn't.

Luffy got distracted too easily, and, despite his massive strength, he didn't have the same fire when the fight wasn't serious. Hell, half the time he would start cracking up if Zoro landed a hit, and that wasn't as satisfying as hearing a string of colorful explanations of exactly how his opponent wanted to chop him up and serve him as a fucking culinary dish.

Same with Franky, who was a bit more unpredictable in his fighting style, but would reward Zoro, instead, with compliments about how cool and manly he'd become.

Zoro didn't want to hear that. That wasn't what got him going. It wasn't what kept him wanting to push harder, see just how many ways he could knock the cyborg around.

He wanted to hurl his own insults right along with his attacks, at someone who he wasn't going to hurt with his words - or wouldn't simply laugh and call him hilarious.

Zoro wanted Sanji to just fucking hear him at least. He wanted some reaction instead of the dead space he found himself staring at more and more when he unconsciously began making a habit of stopping in the kitchen throughout the day, for longer and longer each time.

He would get a drink after a few thousand one-handed push-ups, then sit at the counter, sometimes unsure if the blond was even in the room if there was no cooking happening, no tools moving about on their own.

Sure, he could ask someone where Sanji was. But that would be embarrassing, right? Why would he be so concerned with whatever the hell the cook was up to? He never had been in the past.

And besides, the cook was making it pretty damn clear he wanted nothing to do with Zoro either.

Their only interaction really came at mealtimes, when Zoro would miraculously find a plate of food in front of him, easily see his friends interacting with the invisible man.

It annoyed him because Sanji wouldn't even jolt his chair anymore, wouldn't try and mess with him at all, and it was like he'd decided Zoro was dead to him, only making him meals out of habit.

Most of the others seemed unaffected, and they'd dropped their initial ideas to help the situation rather quickly.

But Robin and Nami seemed to have taken notice of Zoro's change in attitude, particularly when Zoro's sulking and grumpiness began to reach new heights.

He'd go looking for trouble, trying to bug the cook by getting up to help himself to food Sanji hadn't carefully portioned out, steal booze from the fridge whenever he pleased.

He could tell Nami was trying to stir up drama by mentioning things outright to the cook, telling him of Zoro's terrible eating habits, or translating his muttered insults.

Robin too would often ask the two if there was anything they'd like relayed to the other. But every time, Zoro saw the look of subtle disappointment cross her face after what must have been Sanji's stubborn denial. And the urge to kick the blond's ass for that only grew stronger and - fuck. He couldn't.

Thus, Zoro's cycle of frustration continued. It boiled and festered until one day, after a particularly troublesome skirmish with Marines which left the crew flopped on the deck after Sunny's Coup de Burst escape, exhausted and panting, but unharmed.

Save for the drops of blood falling to the deck close to Zoro, seemingly out of thin air, something the swordsman noticed a split second before Chopper let loose an ungodly screech.

"Aaaahh! Sanji, you're bleeding!" the little reindeer yelped, flailing arms about helplessly for a moment before he actually decided to make himself useful and rush over to the blond's side.

"It's just a nick, Chopper," the cook assured, pressing fingers to the rather deep laceration running down his forearm, something that didn't reassure the doctor in the slightest. Maybe the barely-concealed wince didn't help matters.

"Just a nick?! Do you know how close this is to your radial artery?! Sanji!" Chopper cried, hooves sliding gently but urgently around the wound. "Come on! We need to get you stitches!"

And then the cook found himself whisked to the infirmary whether he liked it or not.

As if he hadn't gotten cut by knives a million times over in the kitchen. Though he wasn't one to complain about medical treatment unlike some idiot swordsmen, but….well, that wasn't so much of an annoyance anymore, was it.

Things had been as quiet and peaceful as he had imagined, particularly if he brushed off his friends' attempts to force communication between him and the invisible marimo.

Usopp and Luffy had found it hilarious the first few days, trying hard to make them visible to each other with various tricks, but they'd soon grown bored. Not to mention, Sanji had made it explicitly clear that they were to knock it off entirely after a mishap with some flour ended up setting them back on meal planning for that week. Nami had wholeheartedly agreed.

He didn't need the marimo anyway. It wasn't like he missed him. He was still around to help out in fights (basically his only useful skill), and even if the absence of ringing steel was incredibly noticeable, it wasn't a hindrance.

There was no one distracting him from his duties, trying to pick fights. He'd been able to log a lot more time in the kitchen, doing what he wanted to be doing, creating new recipes or simply taking the extra free time to experiment.

It was nice, and even if booze began to go missing more frequently, well...the only reason he'd ever really bought shitty rum was for that oaf anyway.

Sanji had actually been impressed. Zoro hadn't tried to pull any invisible pranks. He was probably just as content to finally have some peace for himself to do - whatever the hell weird things a musclehead marimo did.

There was one less bout of raucous snoring in the men's quarters, one less set of horrible table manners at dinner….

He just hated how he kept thinking about it.

Zoro basically didn't exist anymore, so why was it so constantly apparent? Why was his absence almost more glaring than when he had been around, taking up space and hogging air.

It was almost like the more he actively tried to push the swordsman from his mind, the more he stubbornly insisted on staying.

He'd thought it wouldn't be hard, considering they'd just spent two years apart….but for some reason, knowing he was gone from places he should be made things feel very different.

Maybe he could hear the dull thud of weights hitting the ground occasionally, or hear his crewmates interacting with him.

But it began to feel mocking in a way, and this was what annoyed him while he sat there in the infirmary, a needle and surgical thread tugging uncomfortably through his skin in a place that was usually the swordsman's second home.

He had no way of knowing that Zoro had appeared in the doorway, leaning there and watching Chopper sitting, seemingly by himself, in his human form, looking like he was playing doctor rather than actually working on someone.

Zoro didn't know why he'd come. The cook would be fine, but there was something about not being able to see it, as he always had, something about not being absolutely certain…

Sanji's hair curtained the side of his face closest to Chopper, so he didn't notice when the reindeer glanced up, eyes lighting up a bit when he saw Zoro in the door.

The doctor took a breath, just about to say something before Zoro's eyes widened and he quickly shook his head, making a slashing gesture over his throat.

Chopper's mouth snapped shut, and he looked almost disappointed for a second before he turned his gaze back down to his work.

"I'm almost done with the stitches," he said out loud, fingers carefully maneuvering the needle a few more times, voice raised a little as he clearly said it for the benefit of both Sanji and Zoro. "It shouldn't restrict your movement, and you're a fast healer, so I should be able to remove them in a few days. Let me know if the wound bothers you too much, and I can give you some painkillers."

"I'm sure it'll be fine," Sanji replied quietly, Chopper's voice interrupting his thoughts. "Nothing I haven't had before."

"I know, but it's been a while since-" the reindeer started to say before he stopped himself, mouth twisting a bit in regret of what he'd been about to mention.

"A while since what…?" Sanji asked cautiously, turning his head to try and catch Chopper's eye, though the doctor seemed set on finishing his work without looking up.

Chopper sighed, then flicked eyes to Sanji only briefly.

"A while since you've had any injuries from a blade…" was all he mumbled as he tied off the stitches and took scissors to trim the excess thread.

The cook had a feeling Chopper would say something like that, but, nonetheless, it didn't prepare him for the uncomfortable tightening in his chest, a feeling that was so close to guilt it startled him. What did he have to feel guilty about, after all? Nothing.

"Yeah, well….easier on you, isn't it?" he asked, for lack of anything better to say.

Chopper didn't look convinced, and he didn't sound it either when he replied, "As far as workload goes, sure, but…."

He paused, and Zoro could tell that he almost looked back over at him, though he quickly caught himself and kept his gaze fixed on Sanji. Thank fuck. He didn't know what the cook was saying back, but if he knew Zoro was there….Sanji would surely close himself off, as he always did. And there was something fucking frustrating as hell about that.

Surprisingly though, Chopper seemed to draw upon a newfound bit of confidence and conviction that he hadn't possessed two years ago, and it surprised both Zoro and Sanji to see it on their younger friend's face.

"Isn't it weird for you, Sanji?" he asked seriously. "Because it's weird for us! You and Zoro haven't said a word to each other for weeks now! You haven't even been fighting, or - or working together in battle like you used to, and-!"

He swallowed hard in the way Sanji knew was to combat sudden tears, but the cook didn't say anything, just watched Chopper solemnly with his own heart nearing his throat. It didn't matter what it was about. It was always hard to stomach seeing Chopper upset.

"We're all supposed to be together again. That's why we worked so hard these past two years," the doctor was muttering in a dejected tone, his gaze downcast. "And the rest of us aren't stupid. We can tell it's affecting you both. Even if you don't like to show it….you're both more tense. And watching you two pass each other on deck without even-"

The doctor didn't finish, just hissed out a breath and clenched his eyes shut.

Neither Zoro nor Sanji knew that their expressions in reaction to that statement mirrored each other's, both averting eyes like scolded children.

Maybe they should've known this wasn't just going to affect them, but dammit, it was easy to overlook that when they were both so damn preoccupied with their own ways of dealing.

"I don't….know how I would even try and fix this medically," Chopper continued after a moment. "And it's frustrating, but - I-I'd try my best. I-If you said it was okay."

Sanji watched Chopper for a long moment, and it was the fact that he cared for his friend so much that he found himself murmuring, "Yeah, Chopper. It's fine with me."

And then, because he wanted to see the reindeer smile, he added, "I'll even try and bug the marimo more. Just so he remembers I exist. How's that?"

He got his reward, a broad, almost relieved grin that worked its way over Chopper's face, and then, after hastily setting aside his medical tools, he dove in to hug Sanji tightly with a happy little laugh.

"That would be awesome, Sanji. And I promise I'll do my best to find a cure!" he replied, squeezing ridiculously strong arms around him, enough to make the cook hiss out, "Ow…"

But he reached up to pat Chopper's back with a growing smirk of his own.

A few seconds later, Chopper pulled away, turning his gaze automatically back to the doorway where Zoro was…..

But the doorway was empty.

Zoro had left.

Chopper was right. Zoro knew this, and he hadn't wanted to see yet more disappointment on his face when Sanji no doubt screeched his disapproval. He wouldn't be able to hear it himself, but knowing that the cook probably went on a tirade about how great everything was without him?

He didn't want to fucking hear it.

Yes, the two of them had always been at odds.

No, he didn't particularly like the asshole.

But they were nakama, dammit. And he would've thought, especially after all they'd gone through for each other and the crew - after what the cook had been willing to do on Thriller Bark, as stupid as it was...

Sanji had kept his secret….

The shithead was an insane, irritating lunatic on a good day.

But he had kept his secret. Even from their captain.

He'd thought maybe...just maybe, the damn cook cared a little if he disappeared from the crew or not.

Zoro's frustration persisted, through furious reps up in the crow's nest for the entire afternoon, straight up until dinner when he'd snarfed down food and pushed up from the table as soon as he was done, without even asking to be excused. It didn't matter. Wasn't like the cook was going to miss him.

And despite disappointed protests from the others, he'd stalked off to shower in just as sour a mood as ever.

He took a long one, tried to calm himself and do a little bit of meditating under the stream of water, like it was his own personal waterfall, but he could only manage it for a few minutes before he'd snap back out, still affected.

The cook, for all he was, had legitimately never caused him this much fucking trouble. He hadn't known just how fucking hung-up on this he'd be, which was absolutely ridiculous.

But it was that very fact that told him he had to do something about this.

He couldn't keep up this sulking when they were in the fucking New World.

He'd even told Sanji the day all this had fucking started. This wasn't a damn game. Things were serious, and even if they'd had an easy enough time so far, who knew what tomorrow would bring?

He needed to clear his mind.

And if intense work-outs, purposeful ignoring, and denial hadn't worked for him, then perhaps confronting the cook would.

This was the decision he had in mind when he finally exited the shower, slapped bare feet up and down the hallway a few times before he found the men's quarters, and threw on a fresh T-shirt (a freebie from Criminal) and pants.

Then it was back to the kitchen, this time, not to pass on through with indifference, but to stick around and figure out a way to communicate with the cook. There weren't many ways, as far as he could figure out, but maybe he could develop some - tapping language or something. Fuck if he knew. But he had to try.

When he swung open the door to the galley, it was empty, and there was no sign of dishes floating about, washing themselves, none of that.

It was quiet, and he couldn't see any objects moving to indicate the cook was even there.

Zoro paused, a strange anger overcoming him, because he'd come in here with such damn conviction, and now there was no cook to confront? Like so many times in the past few weeks, he felt the dissatisfaction of an unfinished argument. Though, if he was honest, none had even been started in the first place.

Fuck.

He stood there for a long moment, trying to work out what to do.

But it was in that moment that he noticed a small sound. A quick scribbling sort of sound, and suddenly, from the table, a piece of paper ripped itself from the notebook he hadn't seen there and darted over to the other door, the one leading to the deck.

It slapped to the wood and just kind of stayed there.

Zoro stared at it from across the room, delayed deduction skills working at top velocity before they noticed the handwriting on the paper.

Handwriting…..wait…..

Wait…..!

He scrambled his way over to that paper faster than he'd intended to, unconsciously desperate to grasp onto anything the invisible cook threw at him.

Zoro reached out and wriggled the paper free with some effort from the force pressing it to the door.

Sanji sucked in a breath the second he felt that paper slide from beneath his hand, saw it float in the air beside him.

Zoro was right there, and for some reason, there was a dumb sense of accomplishment that came with it, as if he was a fisherman who'd just wrangled himself a marimo fish.

'Marimo, we need to talk,' his note said, followed by an addendum he'd added at the last second when a certain fear overtook him. 'You know how to write, don't you….?'

The cook watched that paper hover there for longer than it probably should have, and he had a moment where he wondered if the idiot could even read too.

But then, the paper flew off towards the table, and he saw the chair he himself had been sitting on pull back, then scoot closer to the table again.

With a sigh, Sanji too crossed the room and sat beside the chair that was apparently occupied, watching as the paper flipped over, and the pencil he'd been using skittered across the table before lifting and starting to scrawl on the back of the page.

The cook moved a little closer as words began to take shape, not even staying within the lines of the paper, the crude chicken-scratch some of the worst he'd ever seen. Honestly, had the guy never been taught proper penmanship?

But soon, the pencil slammed down on the table and the paper shoved its way towards him.

'Yes, I know how to write, asshole,' it read, barely legible. 'And now you wanna talk? Why?'

The word 'now' was written in much larger letters, most likely for stupid emphasis.

Something about reading that set Sanji's heart beating a little faster. He blamed it on the rise the swordsman was managing to get out of him, even on paper alone.

Quickly, he shoved that page back towards Zoro, took up the pencil, and grabbed the notebook to start on a fresh piece.

'Shut up. Chopper said everyone's upset that we're ignoring each other,' he wrote, quickly, but far more stylishly than Zoro had. 'He wants to try and find a cure. We need to make him think things went back to normal on their own so he doesn't.'

He didn't know why he was advertising this as his plan. He immediately felt like erasing it as soon as he'd written it, but his stubbornness and his belief that Zoro would agree was what drove him to push the paper towards Zoro again.

The swordsman stared at the paper as Sanji's message took shape, and when he passed it over, he felt his heart clench.

Was he fucking serious? He wanted to fucking lie to everyone? Trick them?

There were so many things wrong with Sanji's idea, the major one being Zoro didn't want to go along with it.

He couldn't even play coy, just sit there and seethe over the fact that this was what Sanji wanted to tell him after so long. That what he'd assumed was actually true.

Zoro didn't care how it made him look. He wasn't about to sit by and agree to shit that was stupid beyond reason.

He yanked Sanji's paper over, ripped it from the notebook and crunched it in his hand to illustrate his disgust, then started his message on a new page.

'Fuck that, cook,' he scribbled, movements jerky and angry. 'You wanna lie? You think Robin and Nami are dumb enough to fall for that shit? Why don't you just let him look for a cure? That way I can finally kick your ass again like you deserve for getting us into this shit.'

A growl, even though Sanji couldn't hear him, his hand aching a bit from his furious writing. But he passed the notebook across the table, watching it to see Sanji's reaction….until he felt his chair jolt suddenly.

Sanji pulled his foot back down after kicking Zoro's seat, hard. Then he dove for the paper, crumpling up Zoro's message and tossing the paper wad at the empty seat beside him, hoping it traveled right through the swordsman's creepy face.

His chair jerked beneath him too from an invisible force, so he stood instead, hovering over the table as he wrote his reply.

'It has been damn peaceful without you lumbering around and picking fights, so I am not in any rush to ruin that!' he scrawled, even grumbling the words out loud as he did, hoping his irritation would translate.

Nevermind that this was the first time in weeks he'd been able to blow off steam like this. Nevermind that part of him liked it…

'And for the last fucking time! You were the one who shoved me into-'

Mid-sentence, the paper tore itself out of his hand, pencil scratching a long wobbly line, and the next thing he knew, Zoro's chair had lifted off the ground entirely and started bashing into his, enough that it knocked him in the back of the knee and drew a complete scowl onto Sanji's face.

"Oh, that is it, you stupid invisible marimo!" he screeched, and picked up his own chair, holding the seat and ramming it legs-first into Zoro's.

As soon as Sanji's chair lifted, Zoro actually grinned, the expression on his face a little crazed, but dammit, this is what he'd wanted. This is the kind of stupid shit he'd been growing so antsy for over the past few weeks, and now he finally had the cook here and engaged.

He couldn't physically hit Sanji's body at all, but he could still feel his strength behind the chair, and that was good enough for now.

Zoro hoisted his chair higher, and soon, the two were in an all-out jousting match, legs of chairs clacking together loudly, and though neither could hear the other's cursing, the room was certainly full of that too.

Chairs were fucking cumbersome though, and they weren't exactly landing any polished hits.

Fuck, if only he could use his swords, Zoro thought, but - there was the next best thing, wasn't there.

Zoro dropped his chair unexpectedly and bolted across the room, shoving barstools and kicking the fridge door as he went because he wanted Sanji to know exactly where he was headed.

And as soon as Sanji noticed that flurry of movement zooming straight for his precious knife collection, he balked.

"Don't you fucking dare, Zoro!" he shrieked, abandoning his own chair and racing after him until he found himself face to face with one of his favorites, an extra long carving knife that he knew was sharper than sharp.

It hovered there in front of him, waiting in challenge, and Sanji had to fucking curse himself for falling prey to the part of him that desperately wanted to fight. He couldn't just let the idiot win after all this.

But what the hell was he supposed to fight with? Zoro's knife couldn't slice him so long as Zoro held it, right? But if he used one himself, he was in very real danger of injuring a hand….

Zoro stood there, adrenaline and eagerness practically coursing through his body as he waited, waited for Sanji to fucking fight back.

But nothing happened for a long moment. And slowly but surely, Zoro began to feel entirely foolish, and entirely alone, standing there panting with a kitchen knife aimed at nothing.

And yet, just as the disappointment began to overwhelm him, a drawer under the counter suddenly wrenched itself open, a roll of strong duct tape flying out. It whisked itself over to the wall where a shorter, wider knife dislodged itself.

The noise of the counter creaking slightly under a heavy weight, and Zoro watched, in confusion at first, as the tape began unraveling, stuck itself tightly to the knife blade, and started wrapping around thin air in a round shape.

The swordsman couldn't make sense of it for a second….

Until the knife and the strange tape circle flopped all the way to the ground, and Zoro realized.

Sanji had secured the flat edge of the knife to the bottom of his shoe, essentially creating a mini piece of armor, a place to make contact.

Zoro's grin was broad and dopey the second that knife lunged for him in a wide arc that he definitely recognized as one of the blond's kicks, and he easily blocked it with his blade. It was no katana, but it would fucking do the job.

It was a good thing Sanji couldn't see Zoro, because surely if he knew they were both grinning like idiots, that would've given him pause right then and there. But instead, all he could do was let the thrill of a low stakes, no holds barred sparring match excite him in a way he hadn't felt for weeks now.

Unlike Zoro, Sanji hadn't tried to spar with anyone else, and dammit, he hadn't realized how much he was itching to fight until this very second.

Of course, fighting in his precious kitchen wouldn't do, so it was only another minute before the two burst forth onto the deck with the usual fervor, hurling insults that neither could hear but both properly felt somehow when accompanied by the force behind their attacks.

It wasn't long until they drew the attention of their crewmates, particularly when Sanji managed to send Zoro flying back against the mast, giving it a hard rattle that was practically a signal for Franky and Usopp to come running.

But it was the happiness that came with seeing their crewmates finally interacting again that soon had the boys forming a circle around the two, picking sides and cheering them on like it was some kind of cage fight, Nami and Robin standing near the railing, placing their own sly bets as well.

It was probably inevitable, given Zoro's lack of swords, however, that it would end with his rather unequipped-for-sparring knife scattered twenty feet across the deck, and the opposing knife hovering in midair for a second before dropping to the ground, almost in confusion.

Cheers erupted from the younger boys, Nami unhappily flipped a coin to Robin, and Brook and Franky started up some weird victory song and dance for no apparent reason.

But it was odd, because, suddenly, Sanji was standing there alone, breathing heavily, in the center of the deck. He hadn't seen Zoro, but he'd certainly felt his presence. Except now, with his knife lying inanimate, it was as if he'd awakened from some dream, faced with the reality that Zoro was very much still absent.

And the fact that he very much didn't want him to be…

Fuck.

He stood there, feeling foolish, with Zoro just a few paces opposite him, at the same loss for what to do next.

The swordsman stared ahead for a second, realizing how strange it was to be not only on the losing end, but unable to see the dumb cook's gloating. Any other time this happened, it would merely result in yet more insults and probably a second rematch round in which he'd make sure to kick the blond's ass to hell and back to prove his own worth.

But now, there was nothing left to do, unless he ran and picked up his fallen knife, but after such a confused pause, it felt kind of weird to do.

Not to mention it felt weird to realize just how much he'd missed this.

He frowned to himself when the crew began to disperse, and it was only then that he saw the ring of tape around Sanji's invisible foot begin to unpeel itself, unraveling until the knife was free. The tape wadded itself into a ball, and tossed itself right at Zoro, which Zoro caught with a hand, standing there watching as the knife seemed to hesitate for a moment.

Then, Sanji turned towards the kitchen, picking up Zoro's knife on the way and examining it for any damage before heading on into the galley once more.

He hoped Zoro had the common sense to follow him.

Zoro did, slowly making his way there as well, catching the door when it swung open on its own.

Sanji was taking the knives to the sink, which turned on, the first knife plunging itself into the water and receiving a thorough scrubbing.

Zoro watched it happen from the doorway. But then he felt the urge to walk over to the sink, absently throwing away the tape ball as he went.

He stood next to where he assumed Sanji to be, crossing arms over his chest and leaning a hip against the counter, wondering if there was any hope of Sanji noticing he was there.

The washing didn't falter though, leaving Zoro to deduce the answer to that as a definitive, 'No.'

So he decided to remedy that, and as soon as the water shut off, he grabbed a dishtowel, placed it in his palm and held it out expectantly in offer to dry the knife.

Sanji's heart jolted in his chest just a little at the sudden movement beside him, only for an instant.

And yet, he had to pause at the strange sight, that hovering dishtowel - and the outline of Zoro's palm and fingers beneath the cloth.

Something about that image struck him, because it was the first sign he'd seen that Zoro still existed. The first sign that there was still a real human behind all the floating objects and slamming doors.

Something about it had his breath catch, and it took him a long moment before he finally plopped the knife into that waiting palm.

He saw, actually saw, Zoro's fingers curl around it beneath the cloth, and Sanji couldn't move his eyes for a good minute as the fabric slid over the metal surface to dry it off.

Eventually though, Zoro had finished, and was holding out the knife expectantly for Sanji to take and place back on his knife rack where it belonged.

Zoro waited….until he felt the blade lift from his hand, and it traveled back to its home on the other end of the counter.

Soon after, the water started up again, and the second knife cleaned itself off.

Zoro held his hand out once more, and the cook turned off the faucet, then passed it to him for drying.

But while he did, surprisingly, Zoro saw a drawer near the sink open, a second dishtowel lifting out on its own.

The swordsman's breath caught a little too, just as Sanji's had, when that cloth took the shape of a hand, the faint outline of fingers that held themselves out in anticipation for the knife.

His own fingers slowed, stopping their drying as he stared, wide-eyed, at the shape, almost as if seeing a ghost.

He'd apparently paused too long though, because Sanji's hand gestured insistently for him to pass over the blade.

Zoro did so, carefully, almost in fear that this wouldn't work, but when he pressed the knife flat into that waiting palm, he actually felt a hand beneath that cloth, saw the impression of fingers wrapping themselves around the blade handle.

Sanji pulled his hand away first to put the second knife back as well, and Zoro's hand lingered there in the air, wondering why a moment as simple as touching Sanji's stupid puppet hand had felt so powerful.

The swordsman stood there, a little baffled by the moment that had just occurred, not even moving when his own cloth was snatched off his hand, folded, and placed into the drawer with Sanji's.

And just like that, Sanji was gone again, and he was really starting to hate these fleeting glimpses of the cook. He wanted all of him or nothing, and dammit, who was he kidding? Nothing had clearly not worked out for him in the slightest.

But then, the movement of bar stools, followed by a chair at the table shifting, and suddenly, the pencil was writing on its own again.

Zoro practically tripped over himself to reach the table.

'Okay, look,' Sanji was scrawling in his slanted, loopy writing. 'I'm not about to run around with a damn bedsheet draped over me all day. So maybe a cure wouldn't be the worst thing in the world.'

Sanji paused in the silence, suddenly worrying that he really was alone, so he gave the chair beside him an experimental kick.

It shifted back in reply with an indignant scrape of wood along the floor, and Sanji huffed out a breath, at least satisfied Zoro was reading.

So he picked up the pencil and finished his intended message.

'Crow's nest tomorrow at 10, after breakfast. Be there.'

He waited, staring at the page, keeping his fingers on the edge of the notebook for some reason…..waiting….

And then the pencil pulled from his hand, the notebook gave a gentle tug under his fingertips, and a reply scratched itself out below his writing.

'Okay,' it said.

Simple as it was, Sanji couldn't help but smirk.