Chapter 42
When the sun meets the moon
Zoro looked up at the sky. The moon shone brightly above him and the cool wind tinkled the three earrings in his left ear. Behind him, he could still hear a little of the laughter and conversation coming from the port he had just left. The pontoon was deserted at this late hour of the night and he took advantage of the calm around him.
Since his altercation with Nami a few hours earlier, the swordsman had been struggling to regain his serenity. He had spent some time at the back of the ship while the rest of the crew had gone to bed, undecided about what to do. And then Robin had come to find him and her words had comforted him as much as they had reminded him of the permanent confusion he was in for the past few weeks. Unable to stand it any longer, he had ended up leaving the Sunny and walking straight ahead to the first tavern he had found.
His subconscious hadn't taken him anywhere though and when he had entered, the fencer had recognized the bar he'd spent most of his nights in since they'd docked at Riverview. The place, like the rest of the island, was gradually more and more crowded since the passage of the Marines and the rather noisy atmosphere had allowed him to sit on a stool facing the counter without being noticed. The owner had spotted him in turn and he had immediately brought him a bottle, knowing in advance that his client wouldn't be satisfied with a simple drink.
Zoro had put his money down with one hand while the other had grabbed the cure for all his ailments and the burn of the alcohol had finally pushed back the unpleasant vice that had gripped him since his argument with the navigator of the crew. The swordsman had emptied his bottle and two others had followed. At the third, the owner had sent him his waitress at the same time and by this gesture, all Zoro's efforts to forget the words of the redhead had been shattered.
Upset, he had pushed away rather abruptly the young woman who had wanted to sit on his lap when he had accepted her bottle and her seductive glances hadn't made him change his mind so she had left to try her luck elsewhere after a few minutes. Zoro was forgetting this incident thanks to the caress of alcohol when a man had leaned behind him to run his fingers directly over his chest. The fencer had paused and his hand on his glass had turned white. Definitely annoyed, he had glared at the owner who had shrugged before going to serve another customer and the swordsman had gritted his teeth.
As a good owner, the man had noticed that the fencer's desires varied from one day to another, but if he had thought to please him by sending him all the men and women he willingly lent against a few more berries tonight, he had rather reminded Zoro that the navigator's words weren't exactly meaningless.
At that moment, his tempter's fingers had suddenly slid down his hip in the direction of his swords, presumably for fun, but the fencer's temper had set off. His hand had closed fiercely on his wrist, crushing it in the process, and the man had squealed behind his back. Zoro had taken the opportunity to pull him forward and he had discovered a blond and thin man with a slightly unbuttoned shirt. Zoro's grip on his wrist had grown even stronger. The man had turned pale because of the pain and the fencer had brutally released him. He had thrown his last berries on the table and left the tavern, even leaving his bottle barely started. He had felt himself suffocating.
Now in the fresh air, Zoro tried to put his thoughts in order. He didn't understand. What was preventing him from overcoming the obstacle he had identified? He had focused on his task with fervor, as usual, and his will have never been stronger than in the past few weeks. So why did he feel like he was going around in circles? Why did the soothing he sought still elude him?
The swordsman observed the lunar star. It shone amidst the black sky, and its light cast ghostly shadows among the darkness that night always brought in its wake. Zoro felt his jaw twitch. He had always felt comfortable in the midst of darkness. It allowed him to rest and go unnoticed, to observe and hunt. It was also an opportunity to engage in the most perilous battles, whether mental against his own demons or physical against individuals whose night revealed the darkest part of humanity.
Previously, the night was synonymous with tranquility or party on the Sunny for the fencer. He had taken the opportunity to train, to meditate or to bathe in the joyful atmosphere which his friends filled him with. Over time, it had also become a time to recharge or relax when he had closed the door to the room he had shared with Sanji.
But lately, the night had mostly become synonymous with inner struggle and torture. All the benefits he had always drawn from those hours had slowly been diluted until only the ashes remained. And tonight even more than the previous ones, Zoro measured the gap he still had to fill before reaching his goal.
Yet he had tried to follow Brook's advice. He had tried to grieve his relationship with the cook and he had faced his absence the same way he faced all his obstacles: by fighting it again and again, until it no longer resisted him.
To do this, Zoro had not spared himself. Exposing himself to pain to improve was familiar and the first time, he had naturally sought a blond, elegant man with a cigarette in his mouth. In his mind, the more he looked like Sanji, the faster he could move on with new habits. The first attempt had been a bitter failure though, his body almost refusing to do as he wanted when he had needed it.
But of course, Zoro had not resigned himself. Defeats and disappointments had always punctuated his learning and he had learned that training and repetition were the key words to achieve his goals.
Spending a few minutes against a wall or in a room with a blue-eyed, sharp-tongued blond had then become an exercise in the same way as those he did to strengthen his body. Still, it was an exercise that cost him more mentally than the thousands of sit-ups he performed on the Sunny. Because no matter what he did, all these men were only pale copies of the original and each time, his mind instantly compared them, making him lose the interest he wanted to get out of it.
After several ineffective weeks, the swordsman had felt frustration taking over him and he had opted for a U-turn: women. At least they didn't look anything like Sanji. Physically, they were poles apart and yet, Zoro hadn't found more comfort in their arms. The women reminded him of the cook even more than the men. Sanji's adoration for them was such a personality trait that the fencer couldn't help associating them and even if he closed his eyes hard, the touch of his fingers on their skins inevitably reminded him that it wasn't the one who haunted him.
The swordsman abruptly left the port and began to walk aimlessly along the darkened coast. He was tired from the incessant cacophony of his thoughts. He wasn't made for endless reflections. He needed clarity and calm to move forward. But today, he was far from it and Nami's speech still echoed in his head. Actually, if it had aroused such aggressiveness in him, it was because he had felt like it was evidence of his failure: Zoro persisted without an ounce of result and everyone had noticed that he wasn't getting what he was looking for.
Zoro walked away without looking at the Sunny which was waiting for him a few steps away. For once, he didn't care if he actually got lost. He needed to understand his own reactions and he wanted to believe that night would play its part in letting him sleep on it.
Nami glanced at the Sunny's deserted deck before sighing. All her friends were sleeping peacefully but she couldn't fall asleep. She then noticed the figurehead and the silhouette of her captain watching the port from his favorite vantage point. Luffy was on watch tonight and she approached him.
The navigator had thought back to her argument with the crew's swordsman and if at the time, she had been sure to act for the best, with hindsight, she wasn't sure anymore. She sincerely had the best intentions but sometimes, she forgot that Zoro was no ordinary man. He was so different from the common man in his way of thinking and acting that she was afraid she had done him more harm than good. She often had the impression that their first mate was a rock without any sensitivity but the fact that he had shared a relationship that now made him suffer was proof of his emotions. And she had been particularly harsh in her way of telling him the truth.
The way the blond himself had reacted to the fencer's rejection should have given her a clue. Indeed, Sanji never hesitated to get angry but this time, he had replied calmly, giving her the impression of understanding Zoro's approach. She could have attributed his attitude to their break-up and the awkward atmosphere between them since their departure from All Blue if she hadn't remembered one crucial detail: she didn't know the real causes of their break-up and what she imagined was surely far from reality. Sanji and Zoro had always shared an indecipherable relationship and their rapprochement had only confirmed this rule. So she had been presumptuous in drawing conclusions from her own reasoning and now she regretted it.
Nami shook her head. Zoro had left in the direction of the taverns and she was afraid she had pushed him exactly where she wanted him to avoid.
"Did you see him?"
"He went north. I don't think he's coming back anytime soon."
The young woman sighed again. "I wanted him to understand he's not using the right method but it's not a success…" Luffy didn't answer and his navigator bit her lip. "Maybe if I explained it better…"
"You can't help him, Nami. It's something he has to do on his own."
The young woman lowered her eyes. "I know you're right but it's hard to see someone you love suffering without being able to do anything about it…"
Luffy nodded. "He forgot about Sanji but it'll all come back to him."
At these words, Nami frowned. "You mean he's trying to forget him," she said, but the straw hat boy corrected her with a shake of his head.
"Sanji won't let him forget. That's how it is between them."
Nami stared blankly at her captain for a moment before returning her own gaze to the horizon. She had no idea what he was talking about but she trusted him. Luffy had always had a knack for understanding others, and his first mate was no exception.
Zoro woke up with the birds singing under the tree he had fallen asleep under. The sun had begun its course in the clear sky and the swordsman stretched. The day before, he had walked out of town and after a while, the countryside had suddenly taken over from the homes and shops. He had spotted a small river flowing out to sea and he had settled down a few feet away, the peaceful sounds of the water finally allowing him to relax enough to close his eyes.
Zoro observed his surroundings in the light of the first rays of sun. The river was clear and a multitude of fish worked their way between its stones green with moss. On its banks, frogs waded and small fishing birds patiently watched for their prey to bring them back to their young, which chirped in the nest above his head. The place so quiet when he had arrived that night was actually teeming with life when the daylight appeared.
Leaning against the trunk, the fencer grinned. The cook had always reminded him of the sun, this incandescent ball of energy which could just as easily be a source of life or mark its end. Like the sun, Sanji could be relentless towards his enemies and like the sun, he also provided the spark to perpetuate life when he served his food to all who needed it. Impetuous and deadly, bubbling and luminous, such were the two faces of the sun and the cook. Similar to the sun star, Sanji had also given him another vision of life. He had enlightened an entire part of the swordsman that he himself was unaware of. He had shown him that his feelings weren't the weakness Zoro had imagined. He had taught him to tame them without denying himself. They had patiently built a real bridge in balance between them then.
Suddenly, Zoro sat up against the tree, feeling he might be onto something about his questions from the day before. He tugged at the thread of his thoughts. Months before, when he had mustered all his courage to confess to the blond the extent of his feelings and the fear they inspired in him, the cook had told him something essential: he had told him that this bond wasn't an opponent Zoro could cut down with his blades and that he couldn't get rid of what he was feeling. That he could just learn to acknowledge his feelings and live with them.
Zoro felt himself shivering despite the heat of the sun on his skin. How could he have neglected this vital element? The very moment he had separated from the cook, he had presumably forgotten everything their relationship had taught him. His initial logic had taken over him without him realizing it: he had taken refuge in his sensations and the control of his body to better repress his suffering. He had looked at what they had been through in terms only of sex, forgetting that their feelings had been the key to the development of their true bond. His emotions just couldn't go away because he refused to acknowledge them and think about them.
The swordsman ran a shaking hand over his face. This revelation came as a bombshell and he didn't understand how he could have missed such evidence. But maybe he had forgotten because he was alone now. This unknown space that the blond had opened in him, they had been together to explore it and today, Sanji wasn't here to decipher what was happening in him. The emotional pain wasn't palpable and it crushed the fencer more than all the swords that could pierce his body. He didn't know how to fight against this diffuse suffering other than by trying to control it as best he could.
This is how he had faced Kuina's death, by training again and again, always pushing the limits of his body further. But then, had he ever grieved his best friend, he who had put their promise at the center of his life? And if so, could he ever do the same regarding his relationship with Sanji?
The fencer shook his head, deeply ashamed. The blond occupied his thoughts whatever he did and yet, the biggest lesson he had taught him, he had forgotten. How could he hope to become the best swordsman in the world if he neglected his experiences and didn't profit from his past mistakes? He would simply be condemned to repeat them indefinitely, and Zoro refused to do so. Not only did he have no time to lose to defeat Mihawk but it would be an insult to the relationship they had shared not to show the blond the strength he had gained from it. Sanji had told him that their bond could reveal unsuspected strengths and he had had a glimpse of it through the trust and complicity that had naturally grown between them.
Zoro knew that these moments were only appreciated because of what they had to endure to build them though. This is how he had learned one of the greatest lessons of his life after his fight against Mihawk: at that moment, the swordsman had thought he had a chance but he was simply not up to it and realizing it had left him with a bitter taste of anger and frustration that he had managed to overcome with the strength of his resolve. Since that day, he had trained even more intensively and his determination had doubled. He had accepted his defeat and he had moved on.
Sanji had done the same when offering him the possibility of developing his own knowledge of himself through this relationship and today, he needed to use what he had learned to achieve his goal. Nothing had changed. He had simply focused on the pain of his defeat, and forgotten the strength he had been able to gain from it.
The sun suddenly lit up his white blade and Zoro gazed at it for a moment, pensive. The day before, his fear and resentment had controlled him during his argument with the navigator because reality had caught up with him: Sanji was ready to speak to him but Zoro was not and the gap he had perceived had left him even more destabilized. As if this act had reminded him that the blond managed to fulfill his part of the bargain while he had been at a standstill for weeks.
Zoro had forgotten. He had forgotten that the cook understood him beyond words and that the fencer's reaction was probably just a parameter Sanji had used to know what to expect from him.
The swordsman smiled slightly then. The cook had always been the victim of his great sensibility and Zoro had often made fun of this part of his personality, but today Sanji's ability to bond with others was surely allowing him to do what the fencer could only brushed. Sanji could start living again despite the upheaval he had been through; he had this ability to bounce back and adapt.
Meanwhile, Zoro was built like a rock to never flinch in front of the events he could encounter. The death of Kuina had sealed his life's purpose and meeting Luffy had only strengthened his will. He had chosen the permanent struggle to survive and learning to get around the obstacle rather than confronting it wasn't in his nature. Yet he had understood that it wasn't about weakness or failure when Sanji, just like other of his companions, had proved on many occasions the effectiveness of a more subtle strategy than that of exposing himself to blows to demonstrate his strength to his enemy.
It was just who he was though. The fencer lived his fights in a whole and total way, and his loyalty towards his crew and captain was the very example of it. The strength of the special bond he had developed with the blond was no exception and it reinforced his companion's assertion about it: Zoro couldn't turn a blind eye to what he was feeling. He couldn't ignore his feelings. They were part of him and when he had chosen to accept them by starting this relationship with the cook, he had integrated them. He had learned to use them, to feed on them, to draw an unsuspected strength from them. It was illusory to want to weaken them and even dishonoring to seek to sully them now. No one would replace Sanji and the best he could do was to use what he had learned from their relationship to achieve his goal. This way, he could prove to the cook how much he had meant for him to make it. To remain worthy of the relationship they had shared.
Wasn't that the best gift he could give Sanji? Show him his gratitude by proving to him that their bond had allowed him to reach his dream. That day, Zoro would probably finally be able to completely forgive himself. That day, he might be able to talk to him. Or at least, to write to him. To thank him. Maybe to tell him he hadn't forgotten him. Even if their way would be forever apart then.
Zoro got up to plunge his hand into the river at his feet. The birds flew away and the fish fled, but the water he brought to his lips was cool and invigorating. It quenched his thirst and finished strengthening his new resolve. He would overcome this obstacle just like his relationship with Sanji had taught him: by accepting this pain for what it was, the loss of a unique relationship in the course of which he had learned to love.
The swordsman straightened up and the sun reflected in the clear water in front of him. Zoro saw it as a sign.
"Zoro, I… Uh, I wanted to talk to you."
The swordsman turned away from the railing to stare at the navigator, suspicious. He had found the Sunny just two hours before and no one had made any comments. Yet the sun was beginning to set in the sky and the Log-Pose had finished recharging a while ago, but the redhead had simply given the signal for departure as soon as he had set foot on the deck.
Since then, the atmosphere was surprisingly calm on the ship and the swordsman had no doubt that their argument was still present in everyone's mind. Yet if Zoro admitted that it had given him something to think about, his pain was too sharp and too intimate. He refused to share it with anyone.
Sensing his defensiveness, Nami tried to appease him. "Look, about yesterday with Sanji-kun... I was out of line, the way I spoke to you. I'm sorry."
Surprised, the fencer gazed at her for a moment before nodding his head. "It's okay. Never mind."
The fencer was about to walk past her then, but the navigator turned to follow him with her eyes. "No, really, I'm sorry," she insisted. "I don't know what happened between you two but I know you really cared about him and today, you're both suffering. I think I reacted that way because I never imagined that realizing one's dream would cause such upheaval…"
Zoro froze, his friend's words echoing strangely in him. "I would never blame him for making his dream come true. He keeps his promise to himself and that's why he was part of this crew. Because he believed."
Those words seemed to rekindle a flame in the navigator's eyes and she nodded strongly. "You're right, we all have a goal to achieve. When we see him again, he needs to be proud. Proud of what we'll have accomplished too!"
Zoro nodded softly as he watched the navigator walk away towards the helm that Usopp was neglecting to chat with Chopper. The young woman had probably regained her confidence by remembering the commitment they had all made the day they had accepted the proposal of the straw hat boy and the fencer was feeling the same. For the first time since the day before, the swordsman silently thanked her for forcing him to open his eyes.
Zoro's gaze caught the sleeping figure of their captain in the shadow of the figurehead a little further on then. The unique bond he had developed with Sanji was of rare power but the bond that united all the crew members was no less strong, and they owed it to Luffy.
Day and night, fire and ice.
I wanted to appreciate and use the alterity and complementarity of Zoro and Sanji, once again. I hope this metaphor convinced you and allowed you to understand our swordsman's reasoning. This realization will play a vital part for the future.