They wouldn't spend another night on the Merry. Nami had arranged shared rooms for them in a cheap hotel in Water Seven. Luffy and Chopper were in a room at the end of the corridor, Sanji and Zoro on an upper floor, next to the stairs, Nami and an empty bed for Robin, beside them. They hadn't considered a place for Usopp. He would sleep on the Merry, alone, just as he'd brought upon himself.
A bag with a change of clothes and a few modest belongings hung from Zoro's shoulder as he stood in front of the room he'd be sharing with Sanji. Carrying the few things he owned since joining Luffy left a bitter taste in his mouth, because he could have abandoned everything at any other point in his life. Zoro wasn't one to hold on to objects, to material things, but losing the Merry, Usopp, and perhaps Robin due to her inexplicable disappearance… he didn't want to lose anything more.
Sanji and he hadn't argued since the conflict with Usopp. Those clashes were part of a game, a language they had developed between them, but it no longer satisfied them in the face of a crew that was falling apart, being crushed more and more. Their interactions had become routine, a strange way of speaking to each other, where meanings were hidden in harsh words. Or perhaps Zoro was reading meanings that weren't actually there.
He waited for the cook as if he had nothing better to do, a habit that had started in Skypiea: close to mealtime, Zoro would lean against the door of the galley until Sanji called them to dinner; when he was on night watch, and it was nearly time for breakfast, he would rest against the mast to watch him pass by; he even stayed awake when he returned to bed, with his eyes closed, pretending to sleep. Keeping an eye on Sanji had become a habit, a need to feel comfortable.
And there he was, once again, waiting, leaning against the wall next to the door of their room for a full night, arms crossed. Sanji appeared, climbing the stairs with his head down. He was carrying a heavy rucksack and an elegant, almost new suitcase. He had first boarded the Merry with that very same suitcase, and Zoro was sure this was only the second time he'd used it.
Before Sanji reached him, Zoro opened the door, almost as if opening it for him. Zoro took so long to find the light switch that he thought the darkness would swallow them whole. On impulse, he stopped Sanji with an arm before he could step further into that monstrous throat, not until that dark void was filled. The thought was stupid, and Zoro mocked himself for it.
The artificial light flickered before staying on. What could they expect from a cheap hotel in the middle of a city like Water Seven? Nami had done the best she could, considering that everything they had left would be put towards a new ship. The lighting in the room was warm, perhaps to soften the poor quality of the furniture and the walls, or the general lack of upkeep. Why was he suddenly noticing these things? Before the Merry, he could sleep against the cracked wall of any street, against the roughness of a tree trunk. Sanji was bound to complain, accustomed as he was to the unnecessary luxury, even if it was small and artificial, like a discarded fragment of an expensive bottle.
Zoro waited for Sanji to complain, but instead he walked over to the bed, sat down, and stared at the floor. He didn't unpack or look around.
"People are on edge today," Sanji said at last, pulling his cigarette case from the inner pocket of his jacket. "I don't know why."
"The weather's been strange."
Sanji nodded with a distracted sound as he lit the cigarette. The smoke floated around him, like another presence, but soon dissipated into the air. Zoro felt the thirst for alcohol, something to clear his mind, but there was none any more. He crossed the room, passed in front of Sanji without him flinching, and opened the window with some effort. The frame creaked, but the fresh air helped him breathe.
He turned his back on the view, only to glance at Sanji out of the corner of his eye, waiting for some reaction, any reaction. The empty 'Death' cigarette box still in his hand. Why would someone smoke Death so frequently?
"Zoro?"
"Mhh?"
"What just happened?"
Zoro didn't want to answer. The "I don't know" got stuck in his throat. He had managed to keep his composure in front of the crew, though he could only thank Sanji for that. Sanji had dared to do what Zoro truly wanted to do—halt the argument with bluntness, with violence. Sanji had shouldered the entire situation. They both knew what had to be done, they shared the same judgement, but it was Sanji who sprang into action.
Another impulse filled him. The need to hold something in his hands, to put something in his mouth. He moved closer to Sanji and dared to touch his hair, to comb it with his fingers as if that could be enough to comfort him, to mend that disastrous day. There had been moments of contact between them before, that felt more significant than they were, but they had been so fleeting that Zoro thought he might have imagined them.
To his surprise, Sanji allowed the touch and leaned into Zoro. He didn't move again for a few seconds, nor did he let any other part of his body get closer. He just rested his forehead against Zoro's ribs. Zoro massaged his shoulder to calm him, a bit rougher in a gesture that felt less intimate.
"What happened?" Zoro repeated. "We're falling apart, that's what happened."
"Stupid Usopp," Sanji muttered, more distressed than he'd shown in front of the rest of the crew. "We should have stopped him sooner."
"He said what he wanted to say."
"He insulted himself more than he insulted Luffy."
"Oy, he insulted Luffy anyway"
"You don't understand."
Zoro said nothing. He rubbed his temples and waited for an explanation. A real fight with the cook would be a point of no return.
"He lost his ship," Sanji sounded worn out.
"It's not his fucking ship."
"Didn't his friend give it to him?"
"As an offering to Luffy," Zoro raised an eyebrow, with a hint of insistence. "The captain."
"It's all he has left of her from this distance."
Zoro let out a mocking sigh, shaking his head.
"Are you going to start romanticising women again? Right now?"
Sanji pulled away, looked up, and put on an expression Zoro couldn't read. That rarely happened, as Sanji was so transparent with his emotions that Zoro could usually predict his moves. At that moment, not knowing what might happen, Zoro readied his hands to block a kick. But it never came, and he just waited, once again, for a reaction from Sanji. In silence, in that warm light, with Sanji so close and so…
"Who gave you that sword? The white one," Sanji said suddenly, nodding towards Wado at his side.
Zoro parted his lips to speak, shook his head, and let out a laugh.
"What?"
"Your mother?" Sanji persisted. "A sister?"
Zoro curled his lips and looked out of the window.
"A friend."
Sanji nodded. He ran both hands through his hair, but didn't comb it. He just rubbed his scalp as if trying to get something off his head.
"Do I need to spell out where I'm going with this, or is your brain full of moss?"
Zoro wanted to cut him for real this time. He even gripped his sword as if he were about to draw it, but Sanji didn't brace himself. He knew Zoro would hold back. How could he read him so well? He moved away to his bed and let himself fall onto it, arms crossed behind his head. He closed his eyes. Sanji's presence intoxicated him; he felt him nearby as he did with his swords. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn't pinpoint the exact moment that sensation had appeared, when he'd become so aware of the cook's presence or absence.
As if he knew Zoro was thinking about him, Sanji spoke.
"Usopp spoke out of insecurity."
With a sigh, Zoro opened his eyes. Sanji hadn't moved from the edge of his bed, as expected, and he had his back to him. He was sitting up, almost fully recovered. The contact between them seemed forgotten, as if it had never happened.
"And why do you assume that?"
"He'd just taken a beating, lost the treasure because of it." Sanji didn't turn to speak to him, but his face was twisted towards him, as if resisting the urge to do so. "Then the Merry."
"Guilt doesn't justify it."
"He was humiliated."
"And we avenge him," Zoro sat up, perhaps with more force than necessary. "I get he was in a bad place, but dragging Luffy to his shitty state…"
"You know why he reacted the way he did," Sanji interrupted, his brows furrowed. "Don't pretend to be angry now. You weren't during the fight for a reason. He was fighting for his pride. Are you going to pretend you don't understand that?"
A retort stuck in Zoro's throat. He clicked his tongue and rubbed his face, the anger building as if the fight had just happened. He understood what Usopp had gone through, had rationalised it, and yet…
"Why did it affect you so much?"
Sanji laughed at the question, as if it offended him.
"It didn't affect me that much."
"You kicked Luffy in the face."
"You didn't stop me."
Though it was true, Zoro was annoyed that Sanji noticed. If it had been anyone else, he would have reacted. He trusted Sanji's judgement, and if he hadn't stopped him, Luffy would have regretted it. But there was something about the moment Sanji chose that still lingered in Zoro's thoughts. Luffy was about to kick Usopp out of the crew, and that was a line Sanji couldn't bear to cross.
"Usopp isn't weak," Sanji said, a statement that left no room for argument. "He is not weak."
"I know."
"He let himself be carried away like an idiot, but he's not weak. I don't know who made him believe that, and we can't… we should have… We are his crew. We were his crew, his family" Sanji's voice grew louder with each word, his sentences overlapping as he grew more exasperated. He bit his tongue, taking a pause to finish off the rest of his cigarette in one go. He exhaled all the smoke and his tone was calm again. "He shouldn't have left without knowing that. Fucking idiot."
With that, he ended the conversation. He got up to grab his suitcase, threw the cigarette filter out of the open window with a sharp, furious movement, and shut himself in the bathroom with a slam.
He waited. Again, Zoro waited. Why was he waiting for Sanji to come out so he could sleep?
When Sanji came out of the shower, he was dressed in a white t-shirt, loose pyjama trousers, and had a towel draped over his head, covering half his face, even more agitated than before. Time alone hadn't calmed him. His face was red—maybe from the hot water, but Zoro didn't ask—twisted into a perpetual complaint he didn't dare voice. Sanji stumbled among the bags left on the floor and threw the suitcase against the legs of his bed.
He stopped to take a deep breath, leaving the chaos of his exit behind. Then he clenched his fists against his waist and looked out the window.
"Will Robin be alright?"
"Tsk." Of course, he wants to talk about Robin. They barely knew the woman.
"Aren't you worried?"
"She knows how to take care of herself." He was, but it didn't matter.
"That doesn't mean we can't worry."
"Don't escalate things." Zoro was getting annoyed. "She's a grown ass woman. We've got enough on our plate with Usopp. The crew will recover, with or without them."
Sanji's reaction was immediate, indignant and furious.
"Take that back"
"As we advance in the Grand Line, the danger increases." Zoro spoke calmly, honestly, as he always did when something important needed to be said. "If someone of the crew doesn't want to face that danger or isn't going to stand with us in a crisis, then we'll have to part ways."
"You're saying Usopp was right. That we're capable of abandoning a Nakama for being weak." Sanji was affected, as if Zoro were somehow talking about him. "That's bullshit."
"I didn't say that."
"It's bullshit, Zoro."
In a gesture of frustration, Zoro nodded his head. He licked his lips and straightened up on the bed, eyes fixed on Sanji.
"How do you expect us to trust Usopp now? The crew can't survive with spoiled brats who start a mutiny."
"He started nothing, that's bullshit." Sanji got closer, with a frown and ready to attack.
"Nami and Chopper wanted to go with him."
"They weren't leaving, they wanted to help."
"We had to stop them!" Zoro pointed at himself and then to Sanji, his voice loud and angry.
"You don't believe anything you're saying," Sanji shook his head almost compulsively. "You're fooling yourself to feel a little fucking better for not stopping him sooner."
"Then tell me I'm wrong, curly brows." Zoro lowered his voice, but Sanji didn't reply. He just sighed, looking away. Zoro stood up and walked towards him, waiting. "Go on, tell me I'm wrong."
"A nakama just left us."
"And we can't fix it." Zoro pointed at Sanji, a challenge in his expression. "And you know it."
"That's not the point. It's like you don't care about the crew." Sanji wasn't intimidated and kept talking despite Zoro's sudden anger. "It's so easy for you to lose comrades because Luffy only needs you, right? What if I left now…?"
In a second, Zoro was right up against Sanji, his fist clenched in the collar of his shirt.
"Don't say shit like that." He shook him once, then again. "Not now. I'm not in the mood."
Sanji was breathing heavily, his jaw tense, pulse racing. The smell of ash hadn't completely left him, just floated over his skin, mixed with the steam of hot water.
"Let me go, shitty swordsman." Sanji murmured slowly, a threat in his voice.
"Or what?"
"Or I'll leave."
"I won't let you go. Ever."
It sounded as a threat, but as a promise at the same time.
The full realisation that they were alone hit them like cold water. They didn't pull away. Sanji's eyes were swollen, reddish, wide open. And so close. Zoro knew those irises well, but not the expression they held at that moment. Sanji was confused but ready for whatever this new feeling meant. They relaxed as their breaths mingled between them.
They were startled by knocks on the wall. Nami's voice ordering them to go to sleep already, stop fighting, made them break eye contact. There was a pause, the air very still. Sanji pushed Zoro by the shoulders and turned his back on him without hesitation.
"Go to sleep, curly brows. You really fucking need it."
"Don't tell me what to do, you're not my captain."
Sanji lay down and covered himself with the blanket, head and all. He disappeared from the room, from the conversation. A void floated between them, along with the many things Zoro suddenly wanted to say. He held back from insisting, from pulling the blankets off and throwing him to the floor until he confessed what was wrong with him, why he was so unbearable and exasperating. It wouldn't be strange; they'd fought face to face so many times that it shouldn't mean anything any more, but at that moment, alone and vulnerable, it might mean something, and that was terrifying.
Sanji's breathing never sounded calm beneath the sheets. Zoro knew he was still awake, but said nothing and let himself fall onto his own mattress. And if he slept, he didn't care, because when he woke up in the morning, he felt as if he hadn't rested at all, and Sanji was no longer in the room.