Disclaimer: I do not own One Piece.
Author's Note: First of all, thank you so much for all the reviews. I really appreciate feedback on my work, even if it's a positive or a negative, helps me improve as a writer.
This is an Angst/Drama fic, with some mature subject matters that might be sensitive to some.
This chapter does not contain those mature subject matters, but I figured I'd put in the note anyway.
Again, thank you so much for reading and reviewing!
Flashbacks are in italics.
Sixteen Years After...
"Marimo" he had blurted loudly, before realizing that it wasn't the swordsman.
The floating restaurant Baratie was currently anchored near Syrup village, on the whim of the current head chef Blackleg Sanji. Red Legged Zeff had died some years ago, leaving his legacy to his protégé who took it with much pride.
Calm waters made for good business, and today was definitely a calm water day. It was to his surprise, when the doors swung open, that a young man with a mop of green hair came in.
He had uttered the insult, always directed at his former nakama, without much thought, before realizing that the customer was far too young to be the often lost swordsman.
The green haired that stood before him was tall, but he had such a young face. He had shocking green hair, and brown eyes, and looked much like Zoro did when they first met, but without the earrings.
"I'm sorry" Sanji quickly said, "I didn't mean to insult you."
"It's alright" the customer said, smiling a smile so familiar to Sanji "My mom calls me her little marimo, I never take it as an insult."
Sanji blinked. That smile, it wasn't Zoro's confident smirk, it had no smugness to it. That smile was a soft serene smile, he couldn't place it, but it wasn't Zoro's smile. It looked strange on Zoro's face.
If Zoro had big brown eyes.
"I'm sorry" Sanji repeated, unable to remove his gaze from the familiar green hair. "So you want a table or something?"
From the back counter, Sanji watched the young man look through their menu. It was incredible. He was definitely a Zoro look alike. Same hair, same stature, same nose, but he had brown eyes and was taller.
Well, if he was Zoro's son, he would have a hard time picking out a high cuisine dish. The cook sighed, then went to the table.
"Need help?" He asked, his pad out and ready.
The young man smiled up at Sanji "Yes". Sanji was prepared to explain the menu to him, and offer the simplest dish, as he remembered the palette of his uncultured friend, but the guest spoke up first "I'm ready to order. I would like to start with the salad nicoise, then the ratatoulle, and for the main meal, sea king quenelle, escargot de bourgogne, coq au vin, and some of your specialty rillettes with a serving of a baguette." He looked through the menu again "Yeah, I think that's it. Oh and a cup of coffee, please."
Sanji was surprised, and he didn't hide it "You know your food."
He just smiled up at the cook, with that pleasant smile "I did hear you make a great rillete."
Sanji kept himself busy at the back. He was adding the finishing touches of every dish being brought out, all the while keeping an eye on the green haired stranger. He had Zoro's appetite, that was evident with the amount of food and the speed of consuming his meal. But the way he did it had a certain refinement. He minded his manners, and knew how to use the utensils set before him. He was no brute, even if he looked like one. And his smile. It was so familiar, out of place with that face.
I know that smile.
He was Zoro's son, no doubt about it, the mother must have taught him well. The last time he saw the world's greatest swordsman was when he stole away during the night, about sixteen years ago.
Still trying to accept that his precious Nami-swan was taken, Sanji stood outside smoking his fifth cigarette. From his seventh box. The cook knew that it would only be time until Zoro and Robin presented their own relationship. They had tried to be discreet, but with Zoro disappearing almost every night, Sanji had grown suspicious. He followed him one night, only to find the swordsman enter the archeologist's room. He felt anger rush through him, wanted to kick the door open confront them, but he didn't. He waited at a vantage point, until the door opened and Zoro came out. Nothing changed between the two of them, nothing noticeable, so Sanji had decided to keep it to himself.
Unless the swordsman decides to hurt his precious Robin-chwan. The strongest swordsman alive would have hell to pay if that happened.
At least they didn't seem to be in the brink of marriage.
Sanji was deep in his thought when he heard the soldier dock system hum to life. He peered down the railing to see if it was Franky or Usopp, only to see a small rowboat with a certain green haired swordsman on board.
"Oi Marimo" He called "What the hell are you doing?"
Zoro looked back at him, "Go to bed, ero-cook."
Sanji gripped the railings, watching Zoro secure his pack on the small boat "Where are you going?"
Zoro avoided his gaze, instead focusing on securing his belongings.
"Oi Marimo!" Sanji was angry now "What the hell? Are you leaving?"
"Shut up, curly brow." It wasn't said in anger, it was more of a quiet resignation.
Sanji knew it was inevitable, them splitting up. Everyone needed to go ahead and do something, even himself. But Zoro had already achieved his dreams, he had already presented his victory to his old sensei.
"What about Robin?"
That caught Zoro's attention, and he looked up at the cook. Sanji wasn't sure if it was the moonlight, but Zoro's eye glared at him with a deathly glow "What about Robin?"
Sanji jumped down, landing on the open platform of the soldier dock system,
"I know about you and Robin-chwan, did you at least say good-bye to her?"
"How did you know?"
"That doesn't matter, what matters is if she knows what you're doing."
Zoro snorted "I said good-bye. Let's leave it at that."
Sanji knew that the collapse of their nakama was coming. Even he expressed a desire to go back to the norm he had before being recruited by the now pirate king. It was futile to resist the changing times. Even if he had hoped they would last longer.
"Oi Marimo."
Zoro turned around to see Sanji's hand "You were a great comrade." Sanji said. "The World's Greatest Swordsman."
Zoro smirked, shaking Sanji's hand "I'll miss your cooking, ero-cook. You're the best damn chef in the world."
And that was it.
He watched as the swordsman rowed through the night, just as the sun was rising at the horizon. That morning, everyone was quiet. Only Luffy knew what Zoro was planning. Sanji would watch Robin, see her reaction, but her face remained calm.
And slowly they dwindled.
Sanji walked back to the table, setting down a bottle of sake. He pulled up a chair, and sat down, leaning back. "You look a lot like an old friend." he said while pouring two glasses, pushing one to the stranger and keeping the other for himself.
The younger man looked at him, "I do?"
"Yeah, the world's greatest swordsman."
"Roronoa Zoro" the stranger said.
Sanji nodded, watching the smoke from his cigarette waft up to the ceiling "You look exactly like him, I wondered."
"He is my father. But I don't know where he is either."
Sanji looked at the boy, as the boy resumed consuming his meal. He didn't seem disturbed by it, nor did it provoke any sort of other emotion on his face. He had figured as much, though the admission from the boy's own lips shocked him.
"So he left you?" he asked, trying to notice any changes in the boy's steely facade.
"Never met him." he said dismissively.
Sanji was being continually surprised by this boy "What do you mean?"
"I never met him. He wasn't there when I was born, and all I know of him are from stories from my mother and grandfather and uncle, and only what they were willing to tell me." He pointed to his hair "And of course, how he looked like. And whenever he would pop out on the occasional news."
The cook looked at the young man, expecting some sort of emotion, but all it garnered him was a blank expression.
"It doesn't bother me" he continued, with an offhanded shrug.
Sanji felt something bubble in him. It was a mixture of anger and frustration, directed at both the swordsman and his son.
What was with that apathy?
To know that Zoro could abandon a woman with child, and to know that the child did not care whether his father was present or not, it felt trivial to Sanji. He had no parents, every member of his nakama, even Zoro, had no parents for the most of their lives. Not even Usopp, whose father was still travelling with the red haired pirates. Sanji did not understand how the swordsman can be so dismissive. He had abandoned Robin-swan, and had another woman pregnant, and left that woman too.
Where was the loyalty Sanji knew Zoro had?
"I had my mother" the boy said, as if sensing what was in Sanji's mind "She was more than enough of a parent for me. Whenever I asked about my father, she would answer without hesitation nor malice. She wouldn't offer any information about him, unless I asked. I learned enough about him. I am satisfied with what I know."
Coldness, that was what Sanji felt. Those brown eyes looked at him, as if daring him to question his statement. As if daring Sanji to make him want his father.
"So where's your boat?" Sanji asked the boy, changing the subject. If this boy was as stubborn as the marimo, he would have a hard time convincing him to open up.
He shook his head as he chewed, and only answered after swallowing "No boat."
Sanji lifted an eyebrow "No boat?"
He looked up at the chef "I biked here."
Sanji laughed "You're pulling my leg, kid."
He shook his head vigorously this time "I ate the Hie Hie no Mi, I can freeze things. Like the water."
Sanji now held a look of surprise "You really did bike here? From where?"
"Just from Syrup" he poured some sake on his coffee, took a drink, and sighed a contented sigh "I hitched a ride over to the island, then biked over here."
"I know someone who can freeze water too. He was an Admiral."
The boy's eyes widened "You knew Grandpa Kuzan?"
"Grandpa Kuzan?"
"Yeah. He gave me the Hie Hie no Mi when he died, he used to be an Admiral, went by the name of Aoikiji."
If Sanji was drinking, the liquid would have been sprayed all over the table now "You're Aoikiji's grandson? Didn't even know he had a wife."
"Well" he looked a bit sheepish "He didn't. He was like an adopted father to my mom, so I ended up calling him Grandpa." He smiled brightly at Sanji "He was quite fond of my mom, like the daughter he never had. He even gave me his bike so I can travel on my own."
Sanji watched the boy. He looked like Zoro, ate like Zoro, but acted not like Zoro. He was cultured. He ate a lot, but was mindful of his manners, and he had a way with his words. "What's your name?"
"Oh I'm sorry" He wiped his mouth and bowed before Sanji "My name is Nico Saul, and I'm studying to be an archeologist."
The cigarette dropped from Sanji's open mouth, the lit end leaving a mark on the white table cloth, his visible eye widened in disbelief "Nico.. Saul?"
The young man formed the familiar smile, mysterious and delicate, "My mother told me to tell the world my name was Kuzan Saul, but since you are Black Leg Sanji, there's no harm in you knowing that I am in fact the son of Nico Robin."
That smile. Sanji finally placed that smile. Those brown eyes and that smile. The guarded demeanor. The fact that he was sophisticated and cultured.
"Robin-chwan?" Sanji said, in a soft whisper, as if daring the world for a proof. But there it was. In the form of a young man named Saul, who acted like his mother, but looked like his father.
Sanji felt dizzy.
End of Part 2.
Also, thank you to the anon reviewer going by the name someone! I just realized you've also reviewed my other works, unless there was another someone out there, but still a great big thank you!
And to everyone else! Oh gosh the reviews always make me feel nice, since it means that people have read my fic :)