South of Logue Town was a strange place. The buildings there were either fancy, semi-detached houses with garages big enough to fit two cars, or massive factories and warehouses. A lot of it was grassy plot, fenced up and waiting to be bought.
The sky was turning orange and the chill of dusk clung to the air when they arrived at the dojo. It was practically in the middle of nowhere, but Sanji supposed it was a great place to meditate and train, away from the distractions of life.
Sanji had to wonder if they hadn't accidentally crossed borders into another country. The dojo was built in traditional architecture, with wooden walls and a shale roof that curled at the corners. There were two, or three stories to the place, and a wide but simplistic garden that seemed to stretch around the whole place.
Nami pulled up next to two parked cars on the gravel path outside the building.
Sanji unclasped his helmet. "Looks like there's people here."
Just as he said that, the dojo doors slid open with a dull clatter and a plump man bustled out towards them.
"What are you doing here? You lost?" he grumbled, frowning at the two of them.
"No," answered Sanji. "We came to visit…"
"There's nothing here!" exclaimed the man, cutting Sanji off. "Get out!"
"Excuse me?" said Nami. "We came all the way out here to visit the dojo. What kind of a greeting is that?"
"The dojo's closed!"
Sanji faltered. "It is?"
"Yes, did I fucking stutter? C-L-O-S-E-D, closed! Now get out!"
Nami sneered at him. "That's no way to welcome guests."
Another man appeared at the open doorway and waltzed down the steps to join them at the gravel path. He was tall and lanky, with long grey hair and a strange goatee protruding from the end of his chin. A pair of tinted glasses shielded his eyes.
He rested a hand on his plump friend before taking a flourishing bow at Nami and Sanji.
"I do apologize for your mistreatment. Welcome to Kuina Dojo."
"Mistreatment?" exclaimed Nami. "Your 'guard-dog' practically mauled us."
The grey-haired man smiled. "Unfortunately, he is right. The dojo is closed to visitors."
"We're friends of Koshiro," said Sanji. He noticed how the two men stiffened at the name. "A-actually, more like Zoro's friends really."
"Ah," spoke the grey-haired man. "Then, I suppose, you know about his… condition."
Sanji nodded. "Actually, we were sent here by Koshiro. To pick up some stuff."
The two men exchanged glances.
"You were?" questioned the plump man.
Nami and Sanji nodded in unison.
"Who are you two, anyway?" she asked.
The grey haired man forced a laugh.
"We're also Koshiro's friends," he replied. "We've been asked to look after the dojo while he's looking after Zoro, so I apologize if we came across as defensive. This is Koshiro's treasured home after all."
This time, it was Nami and Sanji's turn to exchange glances.
"Why don't you come inside?" said the grey-haired man. "A friend of Koshiro's is a friend of ours, after all."
They led them through the dojo to a living space around the back. The plump man served them fresh juice in the kitchen, as they asked what exactly it was that Koshiro wanted them to get.
Nami bloomed in her element here. She could side-talk and flip topics smoother and quicker than anyone else Sanji knew. Within minutes, the two men relaxed their guard and began telling them stories of how they'd met Koshiro.
Taking his chance, Sanji excused himself from the table.
"Sorry, uh, where's the bathroom?"
"First door on the left as you go upstairs," answered the plump man, going back to the joke he was telling Nami before.
Sanji nodded and slinked out of the kitchen. He paused at the open training space of the main dojo. It was so quiet. He tried to imagine Zoro, moving through the forms of his three-sword technique out on the wooden floors.
Moving on, Sanji found the stairs and tiptoed up them, the wood creaking under his shoes. He passed the bathroom and crept deeper along the corridor. Some doors were open, and Sanji peered in to one to see a plain bedroom. He glanced into another room and frowned when he found cardboard boxes, some taped up and others half full of clothes or other things.
Glancing back down the hallway to make sure no one was around, Sanji entered the room. He pulled out a black shirt from one of the open boxes and held it up. Were these Zoro's things? Why were they in boxes? Were they in the middle of moving?
Sanji folded the t-shirt back in the box and moved to a smaller one with a lid. Opening it, Sanji found that it was full of DVDs and CDs. Sanji picked up a CD which had a red circle with a yellow 's' drawn on it and an arrow striking upwards through the letter. Flicking it over, Sanji saw the track list was all in Japanese. He rooted through all the other CDs, all of the covers black or red, some with skulls and bones other with grotesque images that made Sanji chuckle and shake his head.
"You wouldn't think you were into Enka with all these other CDs," Sanji muttered to himself, then began to doubt that these were actually Zoro's things.
Nami's shrieking laughter, faintly coming form the kitchen below, snapped him out of his thoughts. Placing the CDs back in the box as neatly as he could, Sanji crept out of the room and made his way along the corridor into another room.
He entered an office. Bookshelves and metal filing cabinets lined the walls, surrounding a simple wooden desk at the centre of the room. It was neat, with only a few papers and envelopes sprawled out on the table. A piece of paper, which held the Japanese flag on the top corner, caught Sanji's eye.
He skimmed through the lengthy words, pausing when he saw Zoro's name.
'As planned, the Roronoa inheritance will be passed to Mr Roronoa Zoro at his coming of age on the date of November 11, 2011. In the unlikely event that Mr Roronoa will be unable to claim his inheritance, the inheritance will be passed to a next member of kin.'
Sanji snorted. "All the more reason for you to wake up, moss-head."
He placed the paper neatly back on the table, and turned to observe the bookshelves. A framed picture was mounted on a black frame beside a small, wilted pot plant.
Sanji approached the picture. In the frame was Zoro, much younger, no piercings but still that vibrant green hair. He grinned like a mad man at the camera, his arm around a young girl a bit older than him. She was pulling a face. Several other children surrounded them, and behind them stood two men.
Sanji's brows knotted. One of the men was Koshiro, his hair slicked back, round glasses, looking serious. The man beside him looked incredibly similar, black hair and wearing glasses too and beaming at the camera. Were they related?
The stairs creaked. Footsteps padded on the wooden floors. In panic, Sanji made for the door, nearly bumping into the grey-haired man out on the corridor.
"Oh, uh, s-sorry," Sanji stuttered, laughing nervously. "I guess I got a little lost. Where was the toilet again?"
"You passed it. It was right as you came up the stairs."
"Oh yeah, of course. Heh."
Sanji tried to pass him, but the man placed a thin hand lightly on his shoulder.
"Koshiro never sent you, did he?" said the man. "I think you should forget everything you've seen and leave."
Before Sanji could protest, the man snapped his fingers and his vision blacked out.
"Here, here. I got him water."
"Thank you."
"Oh, he's waking up."
"Sanji? Sanji, can you hear me?"
Sanji opened his eyes, looking up at Nami's beautiful face again. He had his head in her lap, and she dabbed at his temple with a damp cloth.
"Ah, Miss Nami," he answered weakly. "We must stop meeting like this."
Nami sighed. "Yeah, he's fine."
"You okay, kid?" asked the plump man, looming over him with a glass of water. "You passed out in the hallway."
"I… I did?"
"Yeah, you're lucky I came upstairs and found you," said the grey-haired man. "What happened?"
Sanji groaned as he pushed himself to sit up, accepting the water that the plump man gave him.
"I don't remember," he said, rubbing his forehead. He wasn't dizzy, but he felt confused. As though his brain had hit a mental wall.
The grey haired man sighed and turned to Nami. "Your friend looks unwell. Perhaps you should take him home."
She hesitated, glancing at Sanji and back at the grey haired man. But she nodded and, with the help of the two men, got Sanji up on his feet.
They bid their goodbyes to the two strange men at the doorway and walked over to Nami's Waver. Sanji felt as though he'd woken up from an interrupted nap, unsure of the time or the day or what exactly he was doing before.
Nami fiddled with her helmet to stall for time.
"Are you really okay?" she asked Sanji in a low whisper, her eyes casting over his shoulder. "What happened?"
Sanji briefly followed her glance to see the two men still watching them. He shook his head.
"I… really can't remember," he replied. "I was going upstairs then…"
Nothing. Sanji's mind hit that wall again.
"Did you see another spectre?"
"Spectre?"
Nami frowned. "Never mind. Let's go somewhere we can talk first."
She mounted her scooter and revved the engine. Soon they were riding away from the dojo and back into the centre of town again.
"So you found nothing?" asked Nami, as she filled up her scooter with petrol.
Sanji leaned up against the pump, his face set in a scrunched frown ever since they left the dojo.
"No, nothing," he said. "I… don't think so."
Nami scrunched her brows. "You sound really out of it. Are you sure you didn't find anything."
"It's really weird. I… Did I really pass out?"
She nodded. "Was it Zoro again?"
Sanji shook his head. "I think I'd remember seeing him."
The two fell quiet as Nami finished filling up on petrol. Sanji tried his best to recall what happened, but couldn't see anything past getting to the top of the stairs.
"Fuck, maybe this insomnia thing's starting to affect my memory…"
Nami gave him a sympathetic look.
"So we're back to square one, huh?" she replied. "No new leads. We could try contacting all of Zoro's old opponents. Maybe even this Shanks guy. They might know something, and I'm sure Luffy would even introduce us."
Sanji hummed. That all seemed like far too much effort. He shoved his hands in his pocket, fiddling with his pack of cigarettes and his lighter. But his fingers brushed against something thin and hard.
Sanji pulled out a white card. Madam Sharley.
"Or, we could maybe ask the dying bastard himself," said Sanji.
Nami raised a brow, so Sanji passed the card to her.
"How do you feel about attending a séance?" he asked.