Chapter Text
Zoro stumbled. The largest ape in the pack brought its sword down and almost cut Zoroʼs left arm clean off had he not managed to dodge at the last second. This way, Zoro only got a nasty gash that forced him to drop his sword. He tried flexing his fingers in vain.
“You should have realized it by now.” Mihawk said from his cushy spot on a nearby ruin.
Zoro clicked his tongue and sheathed the sword his wounded hand would normally wield before he had to dodge another of the apeʼs strikes. He knew he would have to push through any pain and injury to keep training if he were to use these two years to their full potential. Either way, his arm got taken out for the rest of this fight. He focused on the battle again, paying attention to cover his useless left side.
After another hour of fighting, Zoro prevailed. He didnʼt win, but he managed to chase the monkeys away. Their endurance was unlike anyoneʼs Zoro had ever fought. Worse yet, any time he managed to beat the packʼs leader, a bigger and tougher one appeared the next day. Zoro had no idea where they kept coming from. He might as well have suspected Mihawk of stashing monkey leaders somewhere in his elaborate mansion. If only he found that room, he could fight the strongest monkeys all at once and speed up the whole thing.
Mihawk didn’t say anything when they finished, only got up and headed back as always. Zoro sighed and followed. At the mansion, Zoro found Perona, or rather Perona found him roaming around without any idea of where he was planning to look for her. He let her disinfect, stitch and bandage his arm since he could only use one of his.
“Still not done fighting with your own kind?”
After Peronaʼs remark, Zoro kept his thanks to himself. “No. Get lost.”
“Sorry, Iʼm not you.”
After a whole day of fighting, Zoro found he still had adrenaline left in him. “Better than sitting on my ass all day!”
“Thatʼs what refined people do.” Perona spun her parasol and turned her back on him.
“You…” Zoro growled and lifted his hands as if he wanted to strangle her.
“Hm?” Perona looked over her shoulder. “Did you say something?” One of her allegedly cute ghosts peeked from behind her other side.
Chills ran down Zoroʼs spine. “No,” he said through clenched teeth. “Nothing.”
“Good.” She stopped in the door before leaving. “Just try not to lose your other arm too.”
Zoro didn’t relax for a while even after she left the room. No matter where he ended up, he couldnʼt escape constant bickering, although Perona and her army of depression-causing invincible ghosts disturbed him more than provided him with a healthy dose of anger like Sanji. Zoro shook his head to dismiss the image of the cook in it. Speaking of cooking, it was time for dinner.
Zoro passed the kitchen counter covered in cobwebs. He took a loaf of bread from the designated bread cupboard, two whole legs of ham from the fridge and an armful of fruit. Next room over, he sat down at one end of a dining table the length of what felt like a small island. He sighed. No one on the island could cook anything more than burnt toast, so they didn’t bother. It was always Mihawk who instructed Perona on what food to get, so Zoro was stuck with sour bread day in and day out. He missed rice. He missed rice balls and noodles and fried meat and curry and fish and even the girly desserts the cook was so fond of making. He missed all the good food that Sanji would put on the table with a hearty smile.
Zoro bit into the ham to stir his thoughts. His left arm ached. If he was lucky, he would be able to hold a sword in the morning. He was close to beating this ape leader. He could feel it. Zoro swallowed all his doubts along with the processed meat.
The next day, Zoro lost his eye.
Nobody rushed in to help him. Not Mihawk, who watched it all from afar. Not Perona, who was lounging somewhere in the mansion. Not Sanji, who would have certainly loved to nag him about it ad infinitum. He was alone.
Zoro realized that if he didnʼt do anything, he would die. His movements lost all grace. He fought tooth and nail for survival. Instincts took over and aimed straight for the vitals. Neck, abdomen, head—the apes fell one by one until only their leader remained. Zoro chopped off the arm holding the sword first, then got rid of the head. His cut was frantic, and the blade got stuck in the monkeyʼs spine. While the animal bled and clawed the ground, Zoro drove his other sword through its forehead. As the fight ended, Zoro’s stomach turned. Things wouldn’t usually go this far.
A bright puddle of red reached Zoroʼs feet after he freed his weapons. He tried to put away his swords, but the tips couldnʼt find the sheaths, so he dropped them on the ground. His left eye was on fire. When he brought his shaking hand up to check, it didnʼt do anything but trigger even more pain. A different hand tugged at his hair and made him look up. As Mihawk inspected Zoroʼs face, his eyes narrowed—a damnation more definitive than any words.
“Let’s get back before it starts looking ugly.”
Zoro stared at the sourdough bread with his one remaining eye. His vision was blurry. His arm was still unusable. His body was wrecked through overuse of adrenaline. Every movement hurt. If Zoro hadnʼt been through worse, he would think he might drop dead any second.
“Donʼt lament the loss of an eye. Actually, it made you more ready for what I intend to teach you next,” Mihawk said.
“Iʼm not lamenting, whatever that even means. Itʼs a setback.”
“Itʼs a lesson.”
“Iʼm fighting again tomorrow.”
“You are lying in bed for the following week.”
Zoro looked up from his untouched plate to the other side of the dinner table. Mihawkʼs orders were absolute, not because he would enforce them that way but because only loss lay on the other side of the crossroads. This time Zoro wanted to stray from the predetermined way.
“I canʼt lie in bed. I have to train.”
“And lose your life next time?” Mihawkʼs voice stayed composed even as they entered an argument.
“If I die, it wasnʼt meant to be.”
Mihawk closed his eyes while he sighed. “You havenʼt realized it after all.”
“Realized what? Level with me, dammit.”
“What is the most valuable thing you possess?”
Zoro wanted to pinch the bridge of his nose but retracted his hand as soon as the touch triggered a pang of pain. “My skill.”
“Itʼs your life, Roronoa.”
Zoro gave him a dirty look. “My life is nothing if it canʼt save my friends.”
“And how would those friends feel if you lost that useless life?”
A memory of Sanjiʼs back flashed before Zoroʼs eye. It showed that time he blocked the way between Zoro and Bartholomew Kuma on Thriller Bark. Zoro still remembered Sanjiʼs attempt at clinging to consciousness as he knocked him out with his own hands. He regretted his decision to sacrifice himself every step of the way because it meant he wouldnʼt see any of his friends again, but since it was the right thing to do, Zoro put it above his own wishes. Maybe those regrets were the reason he survived—that he refused to let it end the way it was meant to. He was alone back then too, and he would always remember what Sanji did for the way it made him feel that he wasnʼt.
Something must have changed in Zoroʼs look because Mihawk smiled. “You have to live, Roronoa. The damage of not putting yourself first is too great to be worth it.”
Zoro turned his head down.
“That applies to a fight too. If you donʼt put your life first and you risk too much, you wonʼt be able to win. If you lose an arm because you were greedy, it will cost you a lot more in the end.”
Zoro didn’t hear the last part. He looked through the full plate and at the tattered suit on Sanjiʼs back, his golden hair flapping in the wind and his beloved arms spread out to defend him. This time, Zoro didn’t want to drive the hilt of his sword in Sanjiʼs stomach.
The tips of Zoro’s fingers had been wrinkled for a while, but he submerged his hands in the hot water again. He shifted in the comically large bath so he could prop his back against its wall and lay his head on the edge. A wet towel sat on his forehead, steering clear of the cut across his eye.
There were not a lot of things that could take the wind from beneath Zoroʼs wings. Until now, Zoro didn’t know there even was such a thing, not after he had promised his captain there wouldnʼt be. In his mind, Zoro was still looking at Sanjiʼs back. It all went downhill from there. Since Thriller Bark, Zoro had only been crippled by his injuries, lagged behind in fights, was defeated by a Warlord and failed to stand by his captainʼs side in his darkest hour. Worst of all, he missed the crew. For a man made of nothing but conviction and dedication, such a weak feeling might as well be a disgrace. Zoro grabbed the towel from his head and threw it against the far wall. Stupid. Seeing nothing but Sanjiʼs back the last two days was stupid.
Zoro settled in the coziest room he strayed into. He stretched himself out on a rug in front of an ignited fireplace and let the heat dry his damp hair. Lingering warmth from the bath relaxed all the tension in his muscles. He wrapped himself in the fuzzy rug he was lying on and faced the hearth.
Sanjiʼs back was still in front of him. This time the apparition turned. He wasnʼt scruffy like back then. His suit was clean, his soft hair waved in the wind, and his gentle smile captivated Zoro more than any radiant laugh could.
Youʼre overthinking it, Mosshead.
“Donʼt… patronize me…” Zoro mumbled.
What, are you really going to figure it out on your own?
“I said…” Zoro reached out, but his arm was too slack to grab Sanjiʼs collar. His hand ended up in Sanjiʼs, who brought it up to his lips.
So, this is what you want me to be like?
“N… Nuh…” Zoro let out a heavy breath. His mind was hazy. Before he could do anything, Sanji kissed the back of his hand. Zoro melted even further from the heat all around him. Drops of sweat formed on his forehead. “Cook…”
Yes?
“Why did you… try to… save me…”
Sanji chuckled. Because youʼre an idiot.
Zoro opened his eye. Even though the fire was dying, he was drenched in sweat. His head throbbed and hurt like it was about to split open.
“Shit.”
He turned over and began crawling. It took an hour until someone found him.
Two days of lying in bed later, Zoro managed to acquire most of his consciousness again. Mihawk decided to finally show up.
“Youʼre alive. It was meant to be, I suppose,” he quoted Zoroʼs words back to him. “Perona has been taking care of you.”
“If you define covering me in old bandages, feeding me bread while sleeping and demeaning me all the way through as ‘taking care’, then yeah. Sheʼs been generous.”
“I apologize there arenʼt any of the worldʼs top doctors in my home.” Mihawk touched his chin.
“You could at least have a medicine cabinet.”
“Well, I donʼt usually go around losing eyes to packs of monkeys.”
Zoro sighed. “Iʼm resting. Isnʼt that what you wanted?”
“Yes, but why are you resting really?”
Hours of surprisingly comforting fever dreams featuring a certain someone didn’t help Zoro resolve his dilemmas in the slightest.
“You donʼt have to answer. I will know when you figure it out.” Mihawk turned on his heel and left.
Zoro did want to put himself first, as Mihawk had called it, but was he allowed to in light of everything he had to do and uphold? He had given himself up to blind devotion and surrendered his life to a conviction. Nobody had explicitly asked him to, but he did it anyway. It was what should have been done, what an honorable and faithful person would do. It was the right thing. He wondered what Sanji would say to that. He wouldnʼt care about Zoroʼs dumb honor and certainly wouldnʼt offer his life for that. He did it because Zoro was an idiot, or at least that was what Zoroʼs mind came up with. In the end, it made sense. Zoro really was an idiot for giving up his life to honor some imaginary greater good. He held his bandaged, half-blind head in his hands. Sanjiʼs shower of insults that would usually ground his doubts was missing.
“So… is it your inability to defeat the monkeys?”
Zoro stared at his half-eaten bread. Getting it into his stomach was almost as bad as listening to Perona, like a twisted blend of torture. “No.”
“An inferiority complex from being around Mihawk all the time?”
“No.” Zoro had never regretted anything as much as dropping a hint that something was bothering him while Perona was around.
“Is it the bread?” she lowered her voice.
Zoro seized the opportunity. “Yes!”
Perona narrowed her eyes at him. “No, that canʼt be it. Why didnʼt I ask about the eye yet? Is it the eye? ”
Zoro must have overdone the enthusiasm. “No.” He stuffed his mouth and tried not to retch.
“Is it… the Cook?”
Zoro inhaled the mouthful which sent him into a coughing fit.
“It is!” Peronaʼs face lit up, but Zoro was too busy spewing half chewed bread onto his plate to notice.
“How do you—” Zoro coughed some more, trying to clear his strained throat.
“How do I know?” Perona chuckled in her characteristic high pitch. “I took care of you while you were out, remember? Youʼre a sleep talker.”
Zoro slid his ruined meal aside with a sigh. “What do you want?”
“Nothing.” Perona propped her chin on her fingers with a sweet smile and swung her feet under the table.
Beset by thoughts of one annoying individual, tormented by the presence of another—while Zoro wanted to get away from them both most of all, a morbid curiosity took over.
“What… did I say while I was out?”
“Not much.” Perona tilted her head, her pink ponytails moving along with it. “You just repeated that name a lot, sometimes telling him to shut up too. Who is it anyway?”
That was right, she probably wouldnʼt connect the dots. “Black Leg Sanji.” Zoro had rarely spoken his actual name, if ever. His tongue almost stumbled halfway through and the words left a peculiar aftertaste. Sanji… Zoro repeated it in his head.
“Wait, heʼs on your crew.”
“Unfortunately.”
“Oh? Trouble in paradise?” While Peronaʼs former captain and crew were technically defeated by Zoroʼs, she didn’t seem to hold any grudge, especially considering her story of how she ended up here included a desertion. Her remark intended more to poke into nerves Zoro would feel sensitive about. He understood why she would come to that conclusion but didn’t understand why it wasnʼt the right one.
“If youʼre hinting at any chance of a split within our crew, think again.”
“So, youʼre not on bad terms?”
“Me and that annoying pervert cook? No.”
Perona narrowed her eyes.
“I donʼt expect you to understand,” Zoro said.
“I really donʼt.”
“Great. Then give me some peace.” Before he could get out, Peronaʼs voice stopped him.
“Donʼt leave me.”
Zoro froze halfway getting up from his chair.
“You said that too,” Perona continued. “While sleep talking.”
Zoro averted his head. Those words slapped him like they emerged from the deepest part of his soul, and he knew that Perona wasnʼt messing with him for once. They were his words. It was his wish. But Sanji was gone, somewhere way too far away, and it hurt him unlike the many times they had to take different paths on their adventures. He didnʼt miss Sanjiʼs food or how his taunts always managed to get his blood pumping. He missed him.
At that moment, Zoro realized he had never been alone since Sanji joined the crew. He had always been watched out of the corner of Sanji’s eye, kept company with the pointless arguments, and had his back covered at all times. That bastard crept up on him and, over time, weaseled his way into Zoroʼs life, which couldnʼt have been anything else but a choice. Zoro accepted that, which was a choice as well. He didnʼt doubt Sanji saw it the other way around which cemented their silly dance as requited.
“Heʼs complicated,” he finally said to Perona.
“Please. People only say that about those they like.”
Zoro gulped.
“So, you really do!” Perona gasped.
“Stop being so annoying! Itʼs not like that. I just got… used to him being around.”
“Of course.” Perona called out his lies.
“Where is this conversation going anyway? I thought you werenʼt interested in me.”
That seemed to have touched Peronaʼs nerve in turn. “And youʼre right! Iʼm just bored. This place is boring. Mihawk is boring. Thereʼs no one else to talk to but you, even if you are the least cute thing on this damn island. I donʼt have a choice. Shut up.”
Zoro had seen Perona try to make conversation with Mihawk before. He wasnʼt an easy man to truly get through to, something which Zoro assumed Mihawk reserved for very close people he knew for a long time, which neither Zoro or Perona were. Aside from that, Zoro would usually spot Perona wandering aimlessly, sometimes with a new stuffed animal she had sewed herself which soon joined the growing collection in her room. Occasionally, she would watch Zoroʼs fights but disappear as soon as he got hurt only to scold him afterwards. It was hard to wrap oneʼs head around her, but after her little vent, Zoro understood at least one thing.
“Okay.” He sat back down. “He means a lot to me, same as all my friends. Happy?”
“No.”
Zoro clicked his tongue. “He means a lot to me. Period. Now are you happy?”
“Not really.”
“I like him. That enough?”
“Hmm…”
“Dammit, fine!” Zoro clenched his teeth. “I… I want to thank him. For wanting to save me. And I want to… h-hold him.” His voice grew quieter with each word. “And I want him to hold me too.”
“Aw, I didnʼt know you were such a sap, Zoro.”
“Shut up!” Zoroʼs face was on fire, and it wasnʼt thanks to inflammation this time.
“Too bad you wonʼt see him for at least another year, right?” Perona laughed with unconcealed glee.
Zoro banged his forehead on the table. “I hate you.”
Zoro finished doing maintenance on his swords for the fifth time that day. Those were the only periods of time when he could avoid missing his friends by which he meant mostly Sanji. In light of finally understanding the cookʼs idiotic attempt at self-sacrifice, Zoro wished he could meet him and talk about it to put his feelings into perspective. Or, more realistically, skirt around it with slander and insults until he ran out of patience and…
Zoro crossed his arms over his chest. Since when did his ambivalent feelings manifest as physical wants? He had always respected Sanjiʼs strength, even if he never admitted it, but the last few days his respect had been changing into something else. It wasnʼt entirely unpleasant to develop romantic feelings for Sanji. Then again, Zoro hadnʼt seen him in half a year, and it turned out it was easy to forget how annoying that guy was.
The sun had just begun to set. If not for the thick black clouds that perpetually enveloped this island, it would be the ideal time to inspect his swords. Zoro unsheathed the Wado Ichimonji, held it at an armʼs length and imagined sunlight pouring in from the window behind him and illuminating the impeccable blade.
Sanji had a lot of quirks that needed to be stomached if one was to like him. He was weird around women, he made a hobby out of annoying Zoro, he constantly needed to affirm his masculinity and he smelled like a tobacco factory, but it all paled in light of the fact that Sanji always had his back, so much so that he would die for him. What was his conviction? What would Sanji lay down his life for? Come to think of it, what would Zoro do it for? For him, yes. For Sanji, Zoro would give up his life.
He sheathed his most treasured sword. Didn’t he already do it in a way? Back on Thriller Bark he sacrificed himself for his captain as well as for the rest of the crew. Something still didn’t sit right with him. Maybe he would do it, but did he want to? Zoroʼs fingers caressed the entwined hilt of his sword. He had lost a friend once, and he would do absolutely anything to reverse it. When he looked at it from the other side, her life was the most important thing. That was right. For his friends, Zoro would treasure his life. For Sanji, Zoro would not stop fighting until he came back to him alive.
Mist slithered around his ankles. Zoro cracked his vertebrae and stretched his arms.
“How are you feeling?” Mihawk asked from his improvised lookout on a wall of rubble. Somewhere in the forest, a group of monkeys was taking up arms.
“Good.”
Mihawk nodded and sat down cross legged. “Let’s make sure you havenʼt lost your edge.”
On the contrary, Zoro was confident he had gained one. He cast away his honor and built a new one in its place. He wouldnʼt die for his captain, but he would fight to the end for Luffy. He wouldnʼt sacrifice himself for his crewmates, but he would protect his friends no matter what. He wouldnʼt overturn Sanjiʼs attempt to save him, but he would save them both or die trying. He loved them and everything they held dear, which extended to Zoro himself as well. Zoro would protect it all, including the man he had fallen for.
“Alright.” Zoro drew his swords with a zealous grin and faced the rumble of footsteps approaching from the trees. “Give me your worst.”