Zoro
This could not be happening.
He had made the promise, not knowing – not realizing – just what it was he was promising. Thinking it was such a last resort, such a far-off possibility, such a remote, unlikely thing, that it was safe to make the promise. That it was worth it, to reassure the panicking Cook.
He'd never actually considered that he might have to keep it.
But now here they were, in the midst of rubble and smoldering fires, the ground gouged from the force of flaming kicks and Zoro's blades. The others had gotten the villagers to safety while he'd drawn the monster wearing Sanji's face away, subtly shifting them a strike and a foot and an inch further and further away, till they were in the outskirts among some dilapidated and abandoned old buildings.
Sanji's eyes were dead. Flat. Cold. Like glass with no light behind it, no life.
But his mouth curled with a cruel grin, and that, more than anything, made Zoro's blood run cold even as he whirled and blocked faster than he'd ever had to in his life.
Sanji wasn't cruel.
Sweat stuck his clothes to his skin as if he'd just come from the sea.
Sanji's clothes were dry. Mussed from their battling, dirty from the dust of destruction around them, but dry.
They landed in an explosion of dirt and grass, Sanji crouched on one leg with the other planted wide, his arm thrown out behind him, his other hand pressed into the dirt and rocks. Blue eyes lifted, looking up with darkened, unnatural hair, and he grinned.
Zoro heaved for breath, muscles burning, joints screaming. He was human, but Sanji was other, the product of his late-father's schemes and experiments, the perfect soldier – nearly invincible, inexhaustible.
He could do this forever.
Zoro couldn't.
"You're good, swordsman," not-Sanji pressed his forearm down into Zoro, nearly driving the crossed blades blocking him through Zoro's own throat. Blood trickled across the tan skin. "But not good enough."
"Good enough to stop you!" Zoro spat, sucking breath in through his teeth, muscles straining against the relentless steel-strength bearing down on him.
The chuckle was cold. Hateful.
The blades bit deeper. For a second, Zoro's mind blanked, realizing he might – just might – be about to fail.
"HEY! SANJI! STOP!"
It wasn't much. It was barely enough.
But it was enough.
Zoro heaved up as not-Sanji's focus flickered, distracted by the barreling storm of red and straw heading straight for them. He heaved up as the cries of his crew, his nakama, filled the air, the pounding of their feet shaking the ground. He heaved up and flipped them, his blades biting down into not-Sanji's arm, his knees trapping the whip-cord body in the dirt. He pushed down, down, willing his weight to be enough, to grow, to become as heavy as the rocks Nami had always compared him to. A knee caught him, socking the air from his lungs, but he willed his shins and feet to grow roots, holding firm against the furious bucking.
Dead eyes glared up at him, full of malice and hate and burning cruelty.
He'd tried.
He'd tried to talk to him.
Tried to help the Cook hold on.
Tried to protect and keep his nakama from disappearing.
But the darkness had taken him, even as Sanji screamed and pulled at his darkening hair, even as Sanji had finally looked up from clawing the floor, eyes shining bright, and managed, "You promised," right before the light and kindness had left his eyes.
Right before all the destruction and blood.
Nami was sobbing, Luffy was yelling. The others were running. They'd be here soon, be here in the way, be here where not-Sanji could hurt them.
You promised.
"Sanji," he hissed, sweat dripping off his nose. Pleading. Begging.
The face contorted, too-sharp-teeth flashing. His strength gave against the irrepressible force, his swords flashing through the air as they flew away, but immediately he snatched at his waist and then another flashed – swiping – Zoro moved faster than thought, faster than breathing, faster – because he had to, he had to protect his nakama. All of them.
The dead eyes widened. The grinning snarl dropped, mouth hanging with shock.
Wado gleamed white, a stark contrast against the crimson.
Zoro shook. "I'm sorry," he whispered.
Not-Sanji (Sanji) stared up at him, then down at the blade buried in his chest, and back up at him. The ground under Sanji's body suddenly began to change color, seeping in an ever widening circle. Dark. Wet. Spreading fast. So fast.
Zoro knew what death felt like. Knew the feel of a body going lax in a way that meant only one thing. Knew the way a face suddenly sagged without a consciousness to move it. Knew the way eyes suddenly unfocused.
If there was one thing Zoro was good at, it was killing.
The change in pressure nearly threw him, as the upward force of steel-like muscles suddenly disappeared. His body shook, spiked with adrenaline, muscles unwilling to relax just in case.
Just in case.
The air went still. Or so it seemed to Zoro, poised with his hands closed around Wado's hilt, unable to blink, unable to think. Noise surrounded him, colors and movement and people – his crew – but his mind could make no sense of it, too zeroed in on the lax face and the hair, the black hair, dripping ink into the earth and leaving gold behind.
It was – leaving gold behind.
The harsh lines were leaving the lax face. Golden strands lay limp across empty, still blue eyes.
For a second Zoro's heart and breath froze in his chest, and he almost began to scream. Had he made a mistake? If he had held on a moment longer – just a moment longer – would Sanji have come back on his own? Had he just killed Sanji without need?
But no, no, this had started happeningafterSanji stilled,afterhis eyes went blank and his heart had stopped. Death had brought this.
Was this part of why he'd demanded Zoro kill him? Had he known that in his death, he'd become himself again?
Zoro stared down, at the hands shaking around Wado's hilt. At the blood leaking across Sanji's chest, seeping out from around the blade.
The bubble around him popped with a strike to his shoulder, dirt spraying as his crew came to a stop around them. Chopper was sobbing, calling for a doctor, and the rest was a storm of screamed words that he understood but couldn't parse out.
"What happened? Zoro,what did you do?" Nami shrieked, blue eyes wide with horror, hitting his shoulder again.
Someone shoved him, and he tipped off of Sanji without protest, landing on his hip and arm.
"Is he dead?"
"What happened?"
"Zoro,why?"
"Why was Sanji…"
"He's dead!Sanji's dead."
Zoro could barely make out the rest as Chopper began issuing orders. "We need to get him back to the Sunny," the little reindeer barked, scrubbing tears from his face furiously. "Careful! Don't jostle the sword! It's keeping him from bleeding out."
"But Chopper… he's dead…"
"He's not dead till I say!"
Usopp's voice was gentle, strained. "Chopper…"
"No." Chopper shook his head, ears flapping. "Not till I've tried. I've got to try.Zoro!"
His eyes snapped up and met those of his doctor.
"Help me carry him back," Chopper ordered. "Don't jostle the sword."
He was the biggest. The strongest. The best one for the job. Always the one tasked with moving the wounded.
Then Chopper's words sank in, and he realized there was a chance. That maybe he hadn'tkilledSanji after all. That maybe they could get him back. That maybe he could fix what he'd done.
Carefully slipping his bloody hands under the cook's shoulders and knees, he lifted, muscles straining. The new steel hadn't left Sanji's limbs, and maybe never would, but that would be okay. That steel that had reflected so many of his blows (except the one that counted, the one Zoro wanted to take back) would protect him, would keep Sanji safe.
If only Sanji would be Sanji, and not the ruthless, emotionless killer Judge had made him.
Adjusting to the unexpected weight, Zoro stood, holding him close, holding him carefully, keeping his steps even and steady as the little group made their way down the path towards the sea so that the sword in Sanji's chest – Wado – wouldn't jostle.
Blood dripped from the underside of the wound, leaving a trail. Like a leaking faucet. Warm against his arm where the cold edge of metaljustgrazed his own skin.
The way back was long, too long. They crowded around him, demanding questions he couldn't answer, not right now, but then Luffy said something Zoro couldn't hear through the buzzing in his head and everyone finally lapsed into cold, tense silence.
Chopper flew into action the moment they entered the infirmary, once again barking orders to everyone as Zoro carefully, so carefully, laid Sanji's body on the bed.
Usopp slipped into his role of medical assistant without a moment's hesitation. Nami pulled out her clima-tact when Chopper ordered her to, and Luffy hung around the edges, ready to hand things to the little doctor when he called for them.
Zoro stepped back, knees almost buckling, ignoring the heavy, wet stains running down his left side and sticking his shirt and pants to his skin in a way that was both familiar and sickening. His hands hung by his sides, red. Red with Sanji's blood. Sanji's blood, that he spilled. With Wado, now stained with that same crimson.
There was commotion, a terrible sound, then a rush of action.
Luffy turned towards him, Wado in his hands. His eyes were dark and deep, unblinking as he stared. Zoro couldn't read them. "Here," Luffy murmured, holding the sword out.
Zoro shook his head, unable to look away from it, the sight bringing back the sensation of it in his hands, the way it slipped between Sanji's ribs. He shook his head.
Luffy laid it down on a towel, against the wall, out of the way where it wouldn't get stepped on.
Blood bags were hanging up, the smell of antiseptic and something hot and burning filling his nostrils.
"Hold it there – yes, okay, we've got the bleeding stopped. Usopp, you can start the transfusion. Okay. Good. Now Luffy hand me the – yes, and now – okay. Keep the air going, pump it nice and even, Luffy. How on earth?"
"Can you save him?" Someone asked, voice tight and small.
"The blade entirely missed both the lungs and the heart, not even surehow…"
If there was one thing Zoro was good at, it was killing people.
He knew where to stab a blade.
Perhaps some subconscious instinct had guided him, aiming so that Sanji (not-Sanji) bled out, but could still be revived.
Perhaps.
He couldn't remember.
"There's enough blood in him now. Zoro! Chest compressions,hurry!"
Chopper tugged his arm, frantic, his eyes still filled with tears despite his professionalism, and Zoro followed. He climbed onto the bed and straddled Sanji once more, folded his stained hands together (the blood drying and flaking, rough to his own skin) and began to pump, evenly, firmly.
Luffy held the mask over Sanji's face and squeezed the bag, forcing air into Sanji's lungs, and Zoro pumped, forcing the meager amount of blood left in him to move.
Usopp replaced the empty blood bag with another.
Small quick hands held Sanji's wrist, Chopper's tongue poking out with the depth of his concentration.
The wound was ghastly. Neat, a perfect slice, marking the abrupt end of a life he'd sworn to protect with his own.
Zoro closed his eyes, jaw clenched, and continued to pump. Ignoring the feel of Sanji beneath him, the same position he'd been in not a quarter of an hour ago, taking the life he was now fighting to save. His teeth ground together, forcing down bile.
"Nami!"
Like practiced choreography, Zoro rose to his feet, looming over the bed while making sure his feet weren't touching the Cook, and Nami stepped forward, clima-tact sparking.
Sanji's body jerked and spasmed.
Zoro dropped down to his knees again and resumed pumping, counting in his head.
One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight…
Adrenaline still jumped through his veins, spiking with the storm in his chest. The clash was drowning him, the waves of what he'd done and the waves of hope that Sanjiwasn't gone for goodand the waves of sudden fear that he might be and that Zoro might have to kill him again crashing within him with such violence it took his breath away.
But he had to be strong. He had to be steady.
For Chopper, trusting him. For his crew, depending on him. For Luffy, his captain, his everything. For Sanji…
For Sanji.
He stood again, a hand on the ceiling to steady himself when his feet slid a little on the mattress. Sanji jerked under him, the clima-tact sparking, ozone filling Zoro's nostrils.
He dropped back down and began to pump again. Desperation itched under his skin and burned at the back of his eyes.
Chopper suddenly put a paw on Luffy's hand, and Luffy pulled back, the mask and bag clutched with white knuckles. The little reindeer peered unblinking at Sanji's face, ears perked to listen.
Zoro felt a surge ofsomethingclaw up his throat, pumping with everything he had. The room faded away around him, everything zeroing in on the chest beneath his hands and the pale face staring up at him. Something gave beneath his hands, a rib cracking under his palm.
Suddenly Chopper put a paw on his arm. "Sh, sh," he hissed.
Zoro froze. The whole room froze.
Sanji sucked in a breath, the wheeze moving his chest, mouth opening slightly, eyes flickering.
Zoro watched him, and slowly moved a hand to his haramaki and the small blade hidden in it. He pulled it out and clutched it, hidden, at his side. He heard someone gasp, and another person shush them, and knew how this must look. But he didn't dare risk it, not here. Not in this small room. Not with the rest of his nakama just inches away. He'd never forgive himself, Sanji would never forgive himself.
He held the knife, waiting. Watching. Holding his breath.
Blue eyes opened.
They stared at each other, blue eyes and dark. Stared for a long, throbbing moment.
Sanji parted his lips and licked them, glanced around at everyone's faces, and finally settled on Zoro's. Unblinking.
Ice coated Zoro's skin, and his palms grew damp. He tightened his shaking fingers around the knife.
"Hey, moss-head," Sanji rasped, voice sounding like his throat had been sandpapered. "I'm flattered, but I go more for redheads." He groaned, eyes closing with a wince. "Geez, you're heavy. I'm putting you on a diet."
Relief washed through him, unexpected in its weight, and Zoro choked on a sob, tipping forward. The knife fell from his suddenly numb fingers and clattered to the floor while his forehead sank onto Sanji's chest, the tension draining from him and leaving him weak and boneless and sick. He heard Sanji's grunt of surprise, the start in the steel-like body, but Zoro stayed where he was. The fingers of his left hand closed in the tattered remains of the cook's shirt.
Sanji was back.
Another sob tore out of him, and then another, and if he wasn't already trying so hard to contain the storm inside he would have cared more. Been properly embarrassed for the show of weakness.
But he didn't care. He couldn't. He could only cling to the shirt in his grasp and let the rest soak up his tears, sinking into the relief that was almost more painful than everything else he'd been feeling before.
He'd killed Sanji.
But Sanji was back.
Sanji was back.
A furry paw touched the skin of his shoulder, a quiet voice saying something.
He jerked away, off the bed, not looking at anyone, and stormed out of the room.
Sanji
Sanji healed startlingly fast. Within a day the wound was almost gone, a leftover gift from whatever it was that had happened to him, and while it made Sanji's skin crawl he also wasn't going to begrudge an advantage. Healing faster meant being less of a burden on Chopper and his crew. He'd take it.
Chopper kept him in the infirmary as long as possible, checking him over and taking copious notes, updating his files and asking Sanji a million questions. Some of them Sanji could answer, and reluctantly did, knowing that keeping important medical information from the little doctor would only come back to bite him in the backside sometime down the road. Most of the questions he couldn't answer. There was simply too much that had been done, and he'd been far too young to understand most of it anyway.
Everyone was thrilled when he finally made his appearance in the kitchen, lines easing from around worried eyes. Luffy especially. He walked over to Sanji, his dark eyes gazing up from under the brim of his hat in that unblinking dark way that made Sanji want to crawl into a hole.
"Sanji's better?" he asked.
It was warranted. He didn't remember much, but he remembered enough. "I'm better," he reassured his captain. Despite the leftover healing, and feeling a new strength in his limbs and skin that hadn't been there before, he felt exactly like his old self.
Luffy regarded him for a long moment more, and then his face broke out in a huge smile and he leaped into the air with a whoop. "Yes! Can you cook for us? I'm hungry! It's beenso long!"
"It's been one day, you nitwit," Nami drawled, hiding her laughter behind exasperation.
"I know," Luffy nodded, gaze wide and eager. "I'm starving. Can you cook now, Sanji?"
He rolled his eyes but couldn't help grinning. "Sure, Captain. Anything you want."
Luffy's eyes lit up. "Anything?"
"With my approval and within reason!"
"Awww."
Sanji cooked up a feast, thrilled to be back at the stove, to be dicing and chopping, peeling and sautéing, baking and basting. He hadn't been not-himself for long, but it had felt like years. His heart sank into the rhythm of the dance, warmth prickling out through his body.Thiswas where he belonged.Thiswas what he was meant to do.
When he finally served the food everyone fell to it with ravenous hunger, and soon the air was filled with laughter and overlapping voices and groans of appreciation. It made Sanji's heart sing, watching his crew, his nakama, enjoy the bounty he had lovingly crafted for them.
Except for one.
Zoro came in late, sat down without a word, and ate like it was a job. He said nothing, and barely looked at anyone. There had been the slightest hush when he'd arrived, there and gone so quick it would have been easy to miss, but Sanji noticed it.
After polishing off a plate Zoro stood and left.
He never once looked at Sanji.
It took another couple of days before Sanji had finally had enough. It happened innocently, a simple snack out on the deck, with the sun shining bright and the scent of tangerines filling the air. It was a quiet day, the breeze billowing the sails, and everyone was out lounging. Sanji decided to treat everyone, and came out with a tray full of cups overflowing with shaved ice doused in a sweet fruit syrup he'd made from the scraps of fruit, boiling them down with a little water and some sugar, then sealing it in jars. It was a perfect treat on such a warm day.
As he passed the cups and spoons out, he noticed a by-now familiar presence lurking at the edge of the festivities. Zoro, leaning against the railing a decent distance from everyone else, his dark eyes watching everything. Watching Sanji. Watching every move he made.
The swordsman had been doing that ever sincethat day, the day he'd turned, the day he woke up – by some miracle – still himself, with a sword wound proving to him that his trust had been well placed.
But despite the miraculous happy ending of that whole fiasco, since then the mosshead had been on the edge of everything, distancing himself not just from Sanji but everyone else, there but notthere. And he'd been watching. Watching with those dark eyes, his face as grim as it had been all those ages ago when Sanji had first met the man. When they weren't quite a crew yet, unable to believe that Luffy truly meant it when he said they were good, they were family, and they were his.
Worse, actually. At least back then he'd had the fire of his dream, flickering in every movement and lighting his eyes.
Now the fire was out.
You did this, a quiet voice whispered in the back of his head, but Sanji shook it away.No. Nothing's changed. He kept his word, because he's Zoro, and I'm back to being me, so it's all good. Don't know why he's being such a grump.
"Want some?" he called over.
"Is it sweet?" came the low voice.
Sanji tsked. "Of course it is, moss-for-brains, but I have some syrup that's more tart. Sour, just like you."
Zoro didn't move. "No thanks," he finally answered.
Sanji glared, baring his teeth as frustration lanced through him.
The air thickened. Zoro's eyes snapped to his, muscles suddenly tense, hand moving only a breath – ready to grab his swords.
Two swords.
Not three.
Before Sanji had fully processed that fact, he rolled his eyes, waving a hand dismissively and dramatically. "Ugh – never mind."
Zoro remained frozen for a moment more, the tension rolling off of him so heavily that a flicker of concern began to trickle in through Sanji's frustration. Then outrage won.
"What?" he growled.
The swordsman spun on his heel and strode away, towards the crow's nest.
"What'shisproblem?" Sanji exploded. "How long is he going to mope around?"
"Sanji, you died!" Chopper exclaimed, his mouth stained red in a large circle. Ice dripped from his spoon.
"Yes, but I'm back. I'm fine," Sanji snapped, extending his hands as if to show off how fine he was.
"Yeah, but… he killed you," Usopp said, sitting on a pile of rope, cradling the cup balanced on his knees.
The air grew thick again. Sanji's face felt hot, shame and embarrassment shooting through him – for what he'd done, for what they all now knew, about his past and his father's experiments. "It was the only way."
"Only way for what?" Luffy asked. He'd been happily slurping up his shaved ice, but now he stared down at it, spoon frozen in his hand.
Sanji pulled in a deep breath. Now that it had happened, he supposed they really should know all of it. In case it happened again. In case it happened on the ship. In case… "I made him promise that if I ever turned, he'd kill me."
The joy from before was gone. He wished he could rewind time, go back five minutes. He never would have even acknowledged the mosshead's existence.
"What?" Luffy whispered.
"Why didn't you ask one of us?" Nami forced out, eyes too wide, her voice oddly choked.
"Because you wouldn't be able to stop me," he said honestly. "But Zoro's strong. I mean, he's abeast. And he's simple. He wouldn't overcomplicate it. He'd understand. And when he makes a promise, he never breaks it."
That had been just as important as Zoro's strength, because it's easy to say the words and less easy to do the deed when it comes time to. Luffy would have insisted he could save Sanji and ended up losing. Nami would have been too horrified, and that hesitation would be her end. Usopp would have chickened out. Chopper – well, Chopper had never even been a possibility. But Zoro could, and once he gave his word he never broke it, no matter what.
And he hadn't. He'd kept his promise, and somehow – somehow it had all worked out.
Except…
"He doesn't trust me anymore, does he?" Sanji said, the tray dangling from his hand. "He's waiting for me to turn. He doesn't believe I'm okay."
"Because you made him promise," Nami choked.
Sanji frowned. "But…"
"You made himresponsible, Sanji. He gave his word, and now he'sresponsiblefor if and when you turn."
Sanji swallowed. That sounded bad, when she put it like that. Like a heavy burden. He should have thought of that, when he asked, because of course Zoro would have. Of course Zoro would take that on.
Because if Sanji went, Zoro was the only thing between him and literally everyone and everything else.
Damn.
"You'd think he'd be alittlehappy I'm okay," he mumbled.
"He gave Wado to Luffy."
Sanji whipped around and stared at Usopp. "What?"
Usopp licked ice and syrup off his lip, his usual boisterous demeanor subdued and quiet. "The day you woke up. He knelt down in front of Luffy, and gave him Wado. Gave it up."
No. Sanji shook his head. He knew what that meant. Wado was everything to Zoro. The symbol of his promise, his goal, his dream to become the greatest swordsman in the world. The memorial for someone in his past that had meant almost as much (just as much?) to him as they all currently did.
Giving up Wado meant the end for Zoro.
He whirled on Luffy. "Give it back."
Luffy pursed his lips, and shook his head. "I can't."
"Yes you can!" Sanji managed not to shout, but it was a near thing. "Give it back."
"I can't."
"You know what it means, Luffy. You said you'd never stand between us and our dreams. You wouldn't even get in the middle when Mihawk cut him down. Give. It. Back!"
"He won't let me." Luffy's voice was small, a tone that Sanji had only ever heard once before – when their swordsman had laid dying, nearly cut in half, and Nami had run away. Luffy had been utterly lost and brokenhearted. Grieving. "Won't take it. Won't answer. When I leave it next to him, he leaves it there. It rained a couple days ago. He left it where I'd put it. It was soaked."
None of this made any sense.
"Idiot," Sanji gritted, turning to glare up at the crow's nest.
"You did this."
He spun, gaping. Nami held his gaze, her voice no longer choked, but tired. Firm. "Excuse me?" he stammered.
"I'm not blaming you. It was an impossible situation, and you made the best choice you could. But that'swhyhe's like this."
He scoffed, not understanding her.
She set her cup down on the deck next to her and stood, feet braced apart, arms folded. "What's your job, Sanji?"
The change in topic made him shake his head. "What?"
"What's your job? On the ship."
"To cook." He stared at her, wondering if the ice cold treat under such a hot sun had shocked her brain.
"To… nourish us?" she suggested. "To make sure we're at our best?"
He nodded.
"Food is your gift. Your calling. Your… purpose. Now, what if you had to kill one of us with it?"
Horror dropped through his middle like a bucket of ice. "I couldn't!" he gasped.
"But what if youhad to?"
And just like that, Sanji understood. The bucket of ice traveled slowly down the rest of his body, settling in his feet.
"He's a beast who uses his skills and his swords to protect us, his nakama." Her eyes were sad, and blazing with barely held back emotion. "And now he's used them tokill his nakama."
"I had to…" Sanji whispered, not knowing how to fix this. "I would have killed all of you."
"I know. We know. But stop blaming him. Stop calling him names. Stop being a jerk, demanding he act like nothing happened.You didn't see him when you woke up. Because if you had, if you remembered, we wouldn't be having this conversation!"
The accusation stung, and Sanji wracked his mind, trying to force the memory she was talking about. He vaguely remembered waking up, but nothing was really, truly clear in his memory until the afternoon after. His brows pulled together, thinking, and recalled Zoro's face being unusually close to his. But nothing else.
Just the reassurance that all was well, because Zoro was there. And if it wasn't all well, it was still okay – because Zoro was there, and Zoro could beat it.
"Zoro cried."
Sanji turned towards Luffy.
His captain looked up, the scar under his left eye pale against the tan skin. "Zoro cried a lot when you woke up," he murmured. "He had a knife. He was ready if you weren't still Sanji, to do it again. But you were. You were Sanji. And he cried."
The fun time was over, the cups cleared and washed, and the others had spread out to do their various chores.
Sanji crawled up the ladder. His aim: the crow's nest.
Zoro was lifting weights when he pushed the hatch open. A sideways glance was thrown his way, and then the weights crashed to the floor. Lucky they didn't break through down to the deck, Sanji thought. The man really was a beast.
"Since you missed the snack, I thought I'd bring you something more in line with your sense of taste," Sanji announced, letting the hatch drop closed behind him and displaying the plate he carried. "Red bean mochi, the savory version. Bon appetit."
Zoro glanced at the plate, up at Sanji's face – his gaze deep and intense – and then back at the plate, scrubbing his hair and neck with a towel. "Thanks," he grunted, tossing the towel to one side and snatching one of the three white snacks and popping the whole thing into his mouth.
Sanji sighed. Hopefully the seaweed tasted some of it before he swallowed. He set the plate on a bench, then stood awkwardly. "Listen," he finally said. "About – about what happened –"
"Nothing happened," Zoro said as he lifted a canteen of water and drank, gulping loudly.
Nothing happened.
Sanji groaned, rolling his eyes closed.
Thingswerebad.
Those two words gave him the courage to jump right in, all nervousness fleeing in the face of it. "You gave Luffy Wado."
Zoro paused, cheek bulged with another mochi. After a second he resumed chewing, but it was slow, the back of his shoulders suddenly tense, a wall of sweaty granite.
"What the hell?" Sanji demanded. "What's the matter with you?"
Those shoulders hunched. "None of your business."
"None of my business?Noneof mybusiness? Ha! I'm sorry, but since I got stabbed with that sword, I think itismy business."
Zoro whirled, eyes blazing.
Sanji was right there, already having stepped closer, bringing them nose to nose. "You killed me."
Zoro's jaw rippled. "Yes, I did."
"You. Killed. Me."
"I know."
"You. Killed. Me."
"What are you, a broken record? I know!" Zoro shoved him in the chest. "I was there! You were there! I did what you asked, you happy?"
"Yes, I am. Because you did exactly what I asked. You kept your word, just as I knew you would. And bonus, I got to come back – also thanks to you, I'm told by Chopper –" Zoro scoffed but Sanji plunged on. "I got to come backas myself, not a murderous robot, so yes. Yes, I'm very happy! I thought my world had ended, but it didn't! I'm ecstatic! So why aren't you?"
Zoro's brows scrunched together. "What?"
"Why aren't you happy?" Sanji demanded.
Zoro's mouth tightened, face flushing with emotion. "I'm thrilled, Sanji. Really. It's great having to deal with your crap everyday again." Shoving Sanji once more and actually making him stumble back this time, Zoro turned and reached for the towel again, obviously giving up on his workout.
"Zoro."
The use of his actual name, not mossy, mosshead, moss-for-brains, or marimo, but hisnamebrought the man up short.
"I remember," Sanji said. "Not a lot, it's pretty patchy, but enough. You didn't hesitate. You were even ready to kill me again on that infirmary table if I woke up and wasn't me."
It was hard to see, and at first Sanji just thought he was having a hard time focusing in the dim light, but then he realized the outline of Zoro's form wasn't a hundred percent clear because he was shaking. A tremor so fine and fast he almost didn't realize that's what it was.
"I know how hard you fought to bring me back."
"That was Chopper," the swordsman's voice had a rasp to it.
"Not Chopper who gave me a cracked rib. Not Chopper's face I woke up to." He felt bad, but reminded himself that he'd given Chopper his due for days. All of the others, too. "I know you're scared I'm gonna turn again."
He'd noticed, even when Zoro's back was turned, the tension. The alertness. It was there now, in this small space. He had no doubt that Zoro had already catalogued several weapons to lay his hands on. Just in case.
"Would you look at me?"
For a moment he thought Zoro was going to continue ignoring him, and just keep – vibrating in place. Then the muscles in his shoulders moved, and he turned, slowly, till his eyes met Sanji's.
Sanji swallowed, staring into eyes he knew almost as well as his own. "I'm sorry," he muttered. "I'm sorry you had to do that. I can't totally promise you it won't happen again, but – I mean, I don't think it will, I think the trigger has happened, and I'm still me, so it's all good – but I'm me. I'm here. And that's thanks to you. I know that." He swallowed, and imagined giving Zoro, or Luffy, or any of them a poisoned meal with the sole purpose of killing them, and swallowed again. "I can't imagine how hard that must have been."
A single shoulder moved, a semblance of a shrug. "Had to."
And that, right there, was the simpleness of Zoro. Why Sanji had forgotten that while the swordsman was simple, he also had depth.
"Then why'd you give up Wado?"
Zoro swallowed. The first crack in his armor. "She killed nakama," Zoro finally whispered.
"But she's your dream," Sanji said.
"I killed nakama."
"And?" He knew. Sanji knew exactly why, because he knew Zoro, and when he'd gotten his head out of his nethers long enough to think, he knew exactly what was going on – or at least had a pretty good idea.
Zoro stayed quiet.
"And?"
The swordsman glared at him as if Sanji was the stupid one here. "You want to hear me say it?" he snapped. "Fine! What kind of swordsman kills his own friend?Notthe greatest. How can I go on and chase that dream, claim that title, after what I've done? Turned my own sword on my crew. Killed my own crew." He was furious, breathing hard, his eyes anguished. "I had to ki–" his voice choked off, and Sanji could only stand and stare. "All I could think, when Chopper was trying to bring you back, was what if you were the same? What if – what if I had to kill youagain? I had to–"
The sound of metal clattering on the floor, the shock on Nami's face, Luffy with a knife in his hand looking worried – Sanji blinked at the new, fuzzy memory, and realized the expression on Zoro's face now mirrored the one he'd woken to. Angry. Distressed. Frightened. Determined.
Sanji took a step forward, only for a fist to collide with his chest.
"You bastard."
Sanji deserved that. He couldn't have done anything else, couldn't have changed a thing about the situation. He was as helpless as Zoro in this, and they both knew that there was no one else he could trust with his life. They were an equal match, and if he turned again, there was no one else who had a hope of stopping him.
It just killed him that it had to be the protector of the ship, the very one who would be shredded the most by it.
"I'm sorry," he whispered, closing his hand around the back of Zoro's neck, and pressed their foreheads together. "I'm so sorry. I wish I could change it. I wish I could ask someone else."
A horrible sound came from the swordsman, the sound of a wounded animal.
"But you are absolutely deserving of that title, and of Wado."
"I'm supposed to protect you." The words were stretched thin through gritted teeth.
"And you did." Sanji's grip on his neck tightened, the skin on his forehead burning from being mashed against the marimo's so hard. "You protected all of us. You protected me from becoming my worst nightmare. You protected the villagers. You protected the crew.You protected us."
Another wounded sound came from the depths of the swordsman, and Sanji felt his eyes burn. He hadn't let himself think too much about what had happened, about the little he remembered before waking up in the infirmary. He didn't want to fall into that black hole. But the grief currently in the air was almost as bad, especially knowing he couldn't promise Zoro that he wouldn't ever have to do it again.
God, if you truly exist, keep me ME for his sake, if not mine.
He couldn't sleep. Had nothing to do in the kitchen, either, but he went there anyway. It was his safe space, a place he could sit in, in the dark, and let his whirling mind relax amongst the sounds of the ship and the scents of spices and the leftover aroma of their dinner.
Except when he got there he heard a low murmuring of voices. He recognized them immediately, and stopped in his tracks, hand on the door. It was not fully closed, and through the crack he could see their captain and their swordsman sitting at the table. They were talking low and seriously, Luffy's knees drawn up, the rubbery young man unnaturally still. Zoro's hands were clasped on the table, his head bowed in shame.
Luffy responded, a hand swiping out and smacking the back of the green head. "Stupid Zoro," Sanji heard him say with the exasperated fondness that only Luffy could impart. Then he reached down, arm stretching and stretching, feeling under the bench while his tongue stuck out with concentration. He gave a satisfied "Ah!" and lifted it.
It was Wado. Bright, white, and clean.
Luffy laid it reverently on the table, in front of Zoro.
The swordsman stared at it longingly, hesitating, unsure even after their conversation in the crow's nest. After an obviously long conversation with their captain. Luffy's hand, still on the back of the green head, fingered the hair playfully. His eyes glittered, his mouth stretching in a warm, reassuring smile. He said something.
Zoro laid a hand on Wado, and his head on his arm. Luffy continued to fiddle with the green locks, leaning close, his voice continuing to murmur soothingly.
Sanji stepped back, leaving captain and swordsman to their space and their peace.
His body was now more steel strength than it had been. He could heal from mortal wounds in thirty-six hours. He might, one day, lose his mind again – but he didn't think so. Not with his crew around him.
Not with his nakama at his side.
And if he did, he prayed he had the strength to end it himself while he still had the presence of mind to.
Zoro wasn't the only protector of this ship.