Archive of Our Own ^beta

“It’s always hard to lose somebody. It leaves a hole in your heart that never grows back.”

― Kevin Brooks, Lucas

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What the Land Took:

⁝ Where He Stayed

⁃ (1) ⁃

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In the total abyss of darkness, blurred images began to take shape.

A smile that never fully came into view, no matter how hard he tried to reach its owner. Nonexistence reigned, while desperation created.

A touch, barely real, reached him first. Soft. Familiar.

Almost comforting.

Until a sharp blow made itself known.

And then, the echo of emptiness.

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Zoro opened his eyes. The ceiling of the room was barely lit by the faint light slipping in through the window, washing the somber space in a muted gold. He did not need to look around to know he was alone. The silence told him so.

That promise of closing his eyes for just five more minutes had worked against him. But it no longer mattered. He did not feel like getting up anyway.

His gaze drifted slowly toward the calendar hanging on the wall. The marked date forced him to keep looking. Absent. Unmotivated. His eyes stayed fixed on the paper while his mind wandered elsewhere, somewhere deeper, heavier.

A shout pulled him out of his trance, surely coming from the kitchen.

The sounds of laughter and playful yelling outside gradually claimed his attention.

He sighed.

With a strength he did not know he possessed, but that always surfaced when he needed to keep moving forward, he pushed himself up from the hammock. It was time to go out. To start the day.

He walked with heavy, sluggish steps, hunched as he yawned. When he reached the door, he stopped. Turned his head just slightly, as if something were calling him.

The calendar was still there.

“One more year…” he thought, before walking away.

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The cool air struck his face the moment he poked his head out of the men’s quarters. The sharp scent of the sea blended with the tempting aroma of breakfast, noticeable even from beneath the stairs. Zoro turned his gaze toward the kitchen. It felt farther away than it should have.

That was where the crew’s lively noise came from. He took a deep breath at the thought of each of them. He knew his breakfast was in danger of being devoured by his gluttonous captain, yet he did not quicken his pace.

Setting his foot on the first step was harder than he had expected. Something tightened in his stomach, a sudden knot that forced him to lean slightly forward. Without realizing it, his hand settled on the railing and only then did he continue toward the kitchen, dragging his feet.

Laughter greeted him before the door did, overpowering everything else, especially the unmistakable cackles of Usopp and Luffy.

When he stepped inside, the first thing he saw was precisely the two of them, raising their glasses in a toast, as if celebrating some private joke at the swordsman’s expense. He entered quietly, with no intention of drawing attention. His only thought was to sit down, eat, and maybe go back to sleep afterward.

Yeah… That didn’t sound like a bad idea.

“Ah! Zoro!” Chopper’s voice pulled him out of his head. The reindeer was grinning widely upon noticing him. “Good morning!”

All he offered in return was a brief wave and a yawn, but it was more than enough to brighten Chopper’s mood. His childish laughter rang out, unrestrained.

“About time you showed up. I was just about to give your food to Luffy.”

Zoro answered Sanji’s comment with a low grunt. He didn’t have the energy to start a pointless fight.

“Whaaat?!” Luffy exclaimed, realizing he had been this close to a double portion.

He watched in horror as his supposed plate was set down in front of the swordsman. Even though the cook had never truly intended to do such a thing, to Luffy it was an absolute loss.

“Noooo, Zoroooo!” he whined, collapsing dramatically onto the table. “Why didn’t you take longer?”

Despite the spectacle, the black-haired captain did not give up. He stretched his elastic arm toward the swordsman’s plate, determined to reclaim what, in his mind, belonged to him. A theatrical whine of pain escaped him when his wrist was firmly trapped beneath Zoro’s elbow.

“Don’t even dream about it.”

Luffy whimpered, but the matter was quickly forgotten when Robin offered him a portion of the breakfast she no longer intended to eat. His mood bounced back instantly. He thanked the archaeologist with a bright smile, as if nothing had happened at all.

Sanji let out a long exhale of smoke, not even glancing at the scene unfolding in front of him. That kind of thing was part of the crew’s daily routine, and right now he had a more pressing problem on his hands. The cook slid a bucket beneath the dripping faucet inside the sink. It was the third time he had dealt with that damn leak that morning.

It didn’t matter how many times he tightened or adjusted it, the drip refused to stop. His nerves were stretched thin. He turned the valve shut again with force, but the result was the same.

Plink, plop…

Drop by drop, the water fell into the bucket.

He took one last drag from his cigarette, brow furrowed. Like a nervous tic, he tapped the wooden floor a couple of times with the tip of his shoe while pulling another cigarette from the pack and setting it between his lips, unlit for now.

“We need to fix that leak soon,” he muttered, irritated. Of all the places on the ship, right in his kitchen.

Resigned, he went to sit with the others, making sure everyone had their plate before taking his own seat. Chopper, spoon halfway to his mouth, grew thoughtful.

“Wasn’t Usopp supposed to have fixed it already?”

“Supposed to,” Sanji huffed. “But as you can see… he didn’t.”

An accusatory look landed squarely on the sniper.

“Hey!” Usopp protested, slamming a hand on the table. “I already told you I’m not a plumber! I’m doing the best I can!”

Luffy burst out laughing and gave him a couple of hearty pats on the back, encouraging him.

“It’s the third pipe that’s started leaking,” Robin commented calmly. “There could be more damage. It would be wise to act before it becomes a bigger problem.”

“Yeah, running out of water would definitely be a problem,” Nami added, crossing her arms.

“How would that be a problem? We’re surrounded by water!” Luffy laughed, mouth full.

Nami sighed, shaking her head. Her captain’s ignorance could be truly exasperating at times.

“Luffy, seawater isn’t drinkable!” Chopper exclaimed. “It has way too much salt!”

“And you can’t cook without fresh water, idiot,” Usopp added.

“Whaaat?!” The rubber boy jumped to his feet. “THEN WE HAVE TO FIX THE PIPE!”

“Luffy, sit down,” Sanji scolded, his irritation flaring with his captain’s outburst.

No one seemed to notice that the only one detached from the conversation was the swordsman, who didn’t interrupt his breakfast even once.

“You mentioned we were close to an island, didn’t you, Miss Navigator?” Robin asked calmly before taking a sip of her coffee.

“Ah, yes…” Nami replied, lowering her gaze to her wrist. She frowned when she didn’t find what she was looking for. “Damn it, I left the log pose in my room.”

“You can go get it after we finish eating,” Chopper suggested kindly.

“Yeah… but right now we’re following the eternal pose,” Nami sighed. “We’ll have to divert from our current course.”

“I’ll go get it,” Sanji offered immediately.

“Nice try, but I’m not letting you into my room, Sanji.”

Laughter erupted around the table.

Zoro rose in silence and walked away without saying a single word. Robin followed him with her eyes, calm as ever, taking another sip of her drink.

“You’re supposed to say thank you, ungrateful moss,” Sanji growled as he watched him leave.

There was no response.

Nami let out a sigh longer than the previous ones.

“With how unpredictable the Grand Line is…” she murmured as she stood up. “I’d better go get it before we drift too far. Fixing the pipes is a priority.”

She hurried out of the kitchen. Outside, the air had shifted, and the tide already felt more aggressive. The waves struck with a different weight, sharper, more impatient. The Going Merry creaked in a way that wasn’t new, but wasn’t reassuring either. Nami quickened her pace, knowing she had to move fast or changing course would only get harder.

She took the stairs without really looking.

Then a wave slammed against the deck.

The world tilted violently, and her feet stopped obeying her. The scream tore out of her before she could think, rough, ripped straight from her chest. Everything turned clumsy, dense, as if the air had thickened around her body. The steps rushed toward her with cruel slowness, every edge too sharp, too close.

There was no room to react.

She closed her eyes.

The crash came.

…The impact didn’t.

She opened her eyes with a start, disoriented. The ground was there, but not beneath her the way it should have been. A firm arm was wrapped around her, a strong, warm presence wedged between her body and the wood. It took Nami a second to understand that she was on top of Zoro, that he had taken the fall, absorbing the impact to pull her away from the stairs at the last moment.

Her heart hammered violently in her chest. Relief loosened her knees, and a shaky smile slipped free on its own.

“Zoro… tha—”

“CAN’T YOU WATCH WHERE YOU’RE GOING?!”

His voice crashed over her like cold water.

“WHERE THE HELL DO YOU THINK YOU’RE WALKING?!”

The air caught in her throat. The smile died before it could finish forming. She looked at him, stunned, searching for the Zoro she knew in that hardened face. But what she found was something rougher. A sharp tension set in his jaw, a furious gleam in his eyes she didn’t remember ever seeing like this.

“…Excuse me?” she managed, pride flaring before understanding could catch up. “Do you think I wanted to fall?!”

“THEN WHY THE FUCK ARE YOU RUNNING?!”

Zoro straightened abruptly, not giving her time to react. His fingers closed around Nami’s wrist and hauled her up with a roughness that tore a gasp from her. The world lurched again as he dragged her toward the railing.

“DO YOU SEE THIS?!”

He forced her to look at the raging sea, the waves slamming against the hull with a violence that no longer felt distant.

“WE’RE IN THE DAMN OCEAN!”

“Zoro… let go, you’re—”

She didn’t finish. Her voice was buried beneath his as he pointed toward the stairs, his gesture tight, almost trembling.

“ONE WRONG STEP AND YOU’RE DEAD, IDIOT!”

“HEY! YOU!”

Sanji’s voice burst out from inside the ship, sharpened by fury. He had come running at the sound of the crash, the rest of the crew close behind him, drawn by the noise and a tone that promised nothing good.

“WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING TO HER?!”

Zoro was still gripping Nami when Sanji reached the railing. He didn’t seem aware of anything else. Nami clung to the banister with both hands, knuckles white, her body rigid, as if letting go meant falling all over again. That image alone was enough to set something alight in Sanji’s chest.

“LET HER GO!”

Sanji took a step forward, ready to lunge, his body deciding before his head ever could. The impulse surged through his legs… and then stopped short.

He looked down.

Hands had emerged from the floor and the railing, gripping him firmly, wrapping around his ankles and waist with a precise pressure that was impossible to ignore.

“What the—?”

He lifted his gaze.

Robin was watching him, her expression calm, eyes alert, neither harsh nor reproachful. She shook her head ever so slightly. A minimal gesture, but more than enough.

Sanji didn’t understand it right away. The anger was still driving him from the inside, pounding against his ribs, demanding release.

Then the captain’s voice rose, clear and steady.

“Zoro.”

Luffy stood a few steps back, no anger in his face, but with a gravity he rarely let surface. The sound of his name was enough to snap the tension like a poorly tied rope.

Zoro blinked.

He turned his head toward Luffy, brow furrowed, as if he had just returned from somewhere far away. There was no challenge in his gaze. Just a brief, unsettled emptiness.

“Let Nami go.”

Zoro did.

Nami let out a small whimper and clutched her wrist to her chest.

“Nami!” Chopper and Usopp moved at once, carefully surrounding her.

Sanji stepped forward without thinking. His body answered before reason could. He wanted to do the same as the others, to go to Nami.

But he didn’t move.

Robin was still there.

The hands had vanished, but Robin remained at his side. One of hers now rested on his shoulder. It wasn’t force that held him back, but a silent request for him to stay.

Sanji clenched his teeth.

The burning in his chest didn’t ease, but he pulled his hands away from the railing.

Luffy and Zoro looked at each other for another second. No words were exchanged. They didn’t need them. At last, Zoro clicked his tongue and turned away. He climbed up the mast without looking at anyone, his movements stiff, almost mechanical.

Luffy didn’t take his eyes off him until he disappeared from view. Then he lowered his gaze to the navigator.

“Are you okay?” Chopper asked as he carefully checked Nami’s wrist.

“I’m fine…” she replied, with a smile that didn’t quite settle into place. “Really.”

Chopper and Usopp walked her back to her room. When they disappeared down the corridor, Luffy stretched his arm, took a bit of momentum, and in one pull vaulted up the mast to join Zoro. A smooth motion, as if neither the ship nor the wind offered any resistance at all.

Sanji followed them with his eyes until there was no one left in front of him.

He clenched his fists against the wood of the railing.

The rage inside him only kept growing. Not only had he done nothing… he had felt completely shut out of everything. Still, what infuriated him the most was that Nami had been hurt, and even more so because the one responsible had been Zoro.

What the hell was going through his head?

A light pressure on his shoulder pulled him out of the spiral. He turned his head and found Robin there, offering him a smile that settled the moment. At least for a second.

“Could you pour me some tea?”

“For you, anything, my lady.”

Sanji forced a smile that never reached his eyes. Before moving, he cast one last look toward the mast. His fists clenched even tighter.

Hope you fall and break your neck…

The thought came fast. Sharp.

And just as quickly as it appeared, it left a bitter taste in his mouth.

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⁃ (2) ⁃

He tried to keep a more pleasant expression for Robin.

But the moment he crossed the threshold into the kitchen and found the half-finished dishes, the discomfort snapped back into place, tightening his stomach like a hand closing from the inside. The mess wasn’t serious, but it was there. Visible. Poorly set.

He drew a deep breath.

The water boiled. The tea steeped. Every movement was precise, almost ceremonial, as if his body remembered better than his mind how to do things right. He carried the cup to Robin and offered her his best smile.

“Thank you,” she said calmly.

“The honor is mine, my lady.”

Robin tasted the tea. A faint sound of satisfaction slipped from her lips. Sanji returned to the kitchen and began clearing the plates, separating leftovers, restoring order. Nothing went to waste on that ship. Not under his watch. When they ate again, everything would be hot, proper, as if freshly made.

…except for the swordsman.

His portion would go straight to Luffy. And if Zoro wanted to taste anything made by his hands again, he would have to apologize. To Nami first. To him after. Only then, maybe, would he consider showing mercy.

Who the hell did he think he was?

“Don’t you find all of this… strange?”

Robin’s voice cut through the soft sounds of water and dishes. Sanji froze, dishcloth in hand.

“Sorry, my dear, were you saying something?”

“The swordsman,” she continued. “He seemed furious. But also… alert.”

The word lingered in the air, as if it weren’t quite right.

“Alert is what he’ll need to be tonight if he wants to wake up alive tomorrow.”

The line slipped out before he could stop it. Sharp.

Robin laughed softly. She took another sip and set the cup down with practiced elegance.

“I’m only saying that his reaction aligns more with his reputation than with the man we’ve been traveling with.”

She brought a hand to her chin, thoughtful.

“What was it they used to call him…? Demon…?”

The Demon of the East Blue.

Sanji didn’t say it. He didn’t need to.

Robin gently shook her head and stood, still holding the cup.

“I suppose it doesn’t matter.”

She looked at him then. And Sanji had the uncomfortable feeling that her eyes weren’t seeking an answer, but opening a crack.

“It’s hard to truly know someone in so little time, isn’t it?”

The question hovered there, warm, like steam rising from the tea.

Sanji didn’t answer.

It took him a couple of seconds to realize Robin was gone.

“Oh? …Huh?!”

He hurried to the doorway, flashing an exaggerated, automatic smile.

“Anytime you like, my dear!”

He went back to the kitchen. The cloth moved on its own.

One swipe. Two.

The damp wood gleamed. The scent of tea still lingered in the air, soft, persistent, but the sentence wouldn’t leave.

It’s hard to truly know someone in so little time.

Sanji clenched his jaw.

Even before meeting him, he had already heard his name. In a restaurant lost far from any major island, the reputation of Roronoa Zoro echoed. The pirate hunter. The Demon of the East Blue.

At first, he believed it. He saw him as a dangerous animal. A man willing to crush anyone just to keep moving forward.

The cloth paused for a second against the table.

The memory crashed into him with the weight of pressure in his chest. Mihawk. The air felt different. The sea was still, as if even the waves knew better than to move.

“What’s your goal?”

Zoro hadn’t hesitated.

“To be the strongest.”

Madness, he had thought then. Pure arrogance. A nobody standing before the world’s greatest swordsman.

And yet…

Every time he advanced, he did so with resolve. Every time he fell, he got back up. Blood came far too soon.

Too much.

Sanji remembered the hollow drop in his stomach, the desperate urge to shout at him to stop, and the impossibility of doing so.

“If I take a step back, it’d be like breaking the oath I made…”

He wasn’t fighting to win anymore. He was fighting not to betray himself. For Zoro, staying true to who he was mattered more than anything.

“I’d rather die.”

That was something Sanji had taken far too long to understand. And even now, it still wasn’t easy.

The cloth dropped into the sink with a wet sound. The leak continued its slow rhythm, but in his vision there was only that moment, suspended.

Zoro bleeding. Still standing. Facing forward.

A wound to the back would have been a dishonor. He could still hear his own words, spat out in helpless rage.

Idiot, moron…! Give up your ambitions…!

He hadn’t.

He never had.

Sanji drew in a sharp breath, as if only then realizing he’d been holding it.

The image shifted without asking permission. Water. A choked scream.

The thick terror in his mouth when he saw Luffy, a Devil Fruit user, fall into the sea.

“Damn it! I’ll go after him—!”

“Don’t be an idiot!”

Zoro’s voice, steady even in the middle of chaos.

“Jumping in is exactly what they want!”

Sanji clenched the edge of the table. When had he ended up there? He didn’t know.

“There’s only one way to save Luffy…!”

And they both knew it perfectly. They said it at the same time, without having exchanged a single signal.

“Beat them on land. Then we jump.”

Zoro never put them at unnecessary risk. He never hesitated when it came to his own.

Never.

Not in Whiskey Peak… Not in Alabasta…

Blow after blow, he got back up. Kept fighting. Protected. As if his own pain never mattered when it came to others. Unlike Sanji, who never hesitated to sacrifice himself if needed…

Sanji closed his eyes for a brief moment. He didn’t finish the thought, but something was beginning to take shape, gaining weight.

Today’s Zoro didn’t fit any of those memories.

Not the one who stood before Mihawk. Not the one who protected Luffy without a second thought. Not the one who held Nami when no one else could.

Something was out of place.

“Tsk…”

He clicked his tongue.

He no longer knew whether his irritation was still aimed at Zoro… or if it had begun to turn inward. For the first time since the incident, Sanji stopped thinking about punishment and started trying to understand.

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⁃ (3) ⁃

Zoro didn’t come down from the mast.

The incident lingered in the air for a while, like a rope still vibrating after being pulled too tight. But time did what it always does. The ship kept moving forward, and with it, life on board slowly found its rhythm again. Voices rose once more, laughter returned cautiously at first, then with greater ease.

Luffy was the first to push that sense of normalcy. At some point in the afternoon, he was already running across the deck, chasing Usopp and Chopper, laughing with a carelessness that asked no permission. The sound of his footsteps blended with the constant creak of the wood and the steady crash of the sea against the hull.

Nami adjusted their course with focus, giving precise orders to move ahead. Robin stayed at her side, calm, while Sanji moved between them with his usual efficiency, carrying out whatever was needed.

The mast cast a long shadow across the deck. No one looked up at it.

By the time the sun began to sink, their destination appeared before them.

The island emerged from the mist quietly. Mountains draped in dense vegetation rose in the distance, bathed in a sunset of pinks and golds that slid over the treetops. Light filtered through the leaves, warm, almost indulgent.

The port was small. Black stone, polished by years, formed the docks, stretching out toward the water like open arms. Nets hung out to dry, canoes rocked gently, tied with thick ropes of natural fiber. A couple of barefoot children ran between fishermen with weathered hands, mending worn lines without lifting their gaze much.

“It’s a really beautiful island…”

Nami’s voice faded slightly beneath the sound of water and gulls.

The crew exchanged brief looks. No one voiced the question out loud, but the empty space on the ship spoke for them.

Luffy was the first to speak, answering the unspoken doubt without even realizing it was there.

“Take good care of Merry, Zoro!”

The words came out naturally, as if this were how it had always been. He jumped onto the dock in a single motion and kept walking without waiting for a reply. Usopp and Chopper followed right after. Chopper paused for a second before climbing down, lifted his gaze toward the mast, then went after the others.

Nami disembarked with Robin. Sanji was the last to leave the ship, holding back the urge to cast a quick glance upward before jumping onto the dock.

No one argued the choice.

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“All right, everyone,” Nami said, planting her hands on her hips. “Top priority is finding someone who can help us with the water leak.”

She swept her gaze over the group, the way she always did before handing out tasks.

The count didn’t add up.

“…Huh? Where’s Luffy?”

“He took off the moment his feet hit land,” Usopp replied, raising a hand.

Nami pinched the bridge of her nose and let out a slow breath.

“Of course he did…” she muttered. “All right. Let’s hurry before Luffy finds a way to make things more complicated.”

“Um… Nami?”

She turned to him.

“Yes, Sanji?”

“Would you mind if I took the chance to look for more supplies?”

The smile came out a little crooked, restrained, as if he were weighing the timing. He didn’t want to slow them down, but he didn’t want to miss the chance to restock either.

Nami blinked, thoughtful. Then she nodded.

“That sounds good. I’m almost out of map paper… could you look for some for me?”

“Of course, my dear!”

Nami’s laugh was brief, light. She turned back to the others.

“All right. Let’s get to it.”

The group began to disperse without ceremony. Footsteps on the dock, voices crossing, the everyday sound of wood beneath their feet.

The Going Merry was left behind.

Silent.

From high atop the mast, Zoro watched them go.

He had kept one eye half-open the entire time. When their figures grew small and the dock finally swallowed them up, he let out the breath he’d been holding. He lifted his face toward the sky, but the motion broke halfway through, and he squeezed his eyes shut instead.

He growled.

Brought the back of his head down against the post.

Once.

The wood answered with a dull sound. A useless gesture. His thoughts didn’t shift an inch.

The image returned without asking, without being invited.

Nami’s body losing its balance. The ship’s sudden lurch. The exact instant when something inside him reacted before any thought could form. The clean, automatic movement. How easily he had stepped in between.

It had been simple.

Too simple.

And then, like a splinter driven deep, the inevitable thought came.

If he hadn’t been there. If no one had been there.

His lips tightened until they hurt, but no pain compared to the pressure his heart had been under all this time. The thought kept circling, closing in on itself, tightening with a persistence that wouldn’t ease. No matter how hard he tried, the memory didn’t lose its grip.

The world had kept turning for Nami. No injuries. No consequences. No stopping to think too much about how close it had been.

Kuina hadn’t had that.

It was so unfair.

His throat burned. Tears held back, with nowhere to go, no way to ease that ache.

The memory closed in on him, swallowing him in a frozen darkness.

Voices came before meaning. Confused children delivering news they themselves didn’t know how to give. He floated, detached, as if he belonged to another scene, another life. At first, the words didn’t fit.

Zoro took a step forward.

“She fell down the stairs…”

Another.

“She’s dead!”

He remembered clearly how the dojo smelled the same as always. Old wood, dust, dried sweat embedded in the walls. The air hadn’t changed. The world hadn’t made the slightest effort to adjust to the news.

Everything was where it was supposed to be.

Everything except her.

When he learned the truth, there was no pain. Only disbelief. But from that moment on, something closed inside his chest. A silent rage. An unnatural stillness.

It was unfair how everything and everyone kept on with their day, unmoved. For him, time stopped… and yet he was forced to keep pace with a world that no longer felt like his.

He shook his head slowly, as if the gesture might correct what he was seeing.

Kuina was there.

Motionless.

Too still.

He still regretted how cruel his words had been.

“Don’t try to run away, Kuina!”

The voice hadn’t sounded like his own. In that moment, he hadn’t known how to handle what was happening and had blamed her…

Learning so young how volatile life could be numbed his entire body. Just the day before, they had made a promise…

The anger came late. Thick. Directionless. There was no enemy to face, no duel to demand. No sword to draw. It was just him and the raw truth.

He didn’t listen. He didn’t listen to anyone. He was trapped, staring at the absence where there should have been movement, breath, life. He clung to the naive hope that his friend’s inert body would rise sooner or later. It was chilling how acutely aware he was of that empty space no one seemed willing to name.

The silence that followed was worse than any scream.

“Humans…”

His sensei’s voice came from far away, muffled.

“Sometimes we are so fragile…”

Fragility.

The word scraped him raw. It felt obscene.

It took him years to accept that everything could end in a single moment, no matter how hard you fought, that death was part of being human. Even so, the pain never lessened.

…

Thud…!

Zoro’s eyes flew open.

The sound tightened him instantly. He looked down as if someone were there, but it was only a wooden bucket tipped over, rocking until it finally came to rest. His body ached. Every muscle was stiff, hardened by a tension he had held for far too long.

He’d endured enough. He couldn’t take it anymore.

He climbed down from the mast.

The kitchen greeted him with the familiar scent of wood and the lingering traces of the cook’s food. He didn’t stop to think. He grabbed a beer and emptied it without tasting it, the bitter liquid hitting him like a blunt blow.

Then another. And another.

He didn’t stop.

When that wasn’t enough, he went looking for whatever came next. Bottles, jars, anything capable of turning down the volume of the noise hammering inside his head. He searched even the corners of the storeroom he never touched.

Nothing silenced it completely.

The memory returned, clear and calm.

And every time, it hurt more.

Kuina rarely smiled. When she did, it was barely a crooked curve, born of certainty in her own strength. The clash of steel filled the air, dry, relentless. They weren’t playing. They never had. Every one of her attacks was precise, clean, leaving no room for mistakes. Zoro felt the vibration run through his arms, climb into his shoulders.

He always reacted too late.

She moved with a confidence that infuriated him and drew him in at the same time. They fought as if the world ended there, as if nothing existed beyond the next strike, the next crossing of blades.

When they finally collapsed to the ground, exhausted, the silence came heavy with heat and sweat. Zoro lay on his back, breathing hard. He turned his head just slightly.

Kuina was beside him.

Her sword rested nearby. Eyes closed. On her face, that calm smile. Zoro watched her in quiet awe, with a wordless admiration that needed no voice.

She was strong.

In a way that felt immovable. As if the future already belonged to her.

He reached for her… but the image shattered.

The air was cold. Suffocating.

Kuina lay before him. Her body stiff, her face too pale. The smile was gone, replaced by a peace that didn’t belong there. That was wrong.

And for an instant, that face changed.

Dressed in white, on the verge of being covered by that cloth… it was Nami.

A shiver ran down his spine.

Zoro hurled the sake bottle in rage. Glass exploded against the floor, liquor spilling out, bright, wasted. The sharp stench of alcohol filled the kitchen. He didn’t lift his head. He let himself fall against the table and hid his face in his arms.

He growled. He wanted to scream, but no sound came. He wanted to cry, but nothing followed.

Swallowing hurt, a knot that wouldn’t loosen. He grabbed at his own hair and curled in on himself…

The only thing he could cling to was Wado…

As if, holding it in his arms, she was with him in some way. Maybe she’d think him pathetic if she saw him like this, and oh god… he would rather that be true. He wished it were so.

He wished—

He wished the world had a little mercy and would let him set down the weight of both of them.

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⁃ (4) ⁃

Sanji walked slowly between the stalls, a bag hanging from his arm. His gaze wandered on its own over woven baskets, low wooden tables, and mats spread across the ground, where vendors offered neat piles of fruit, roots, leaves, and fish still gleaming with water.

The air smelled of sweet smoke, citrus peel, and damp earth. The houses, built of pale stone and carved wood, looked as though they had grown from the ground rather than been raised upon it. Some were draped in flowering vines; others had wind chimes hanging from their roofs, singing softly with the breeze.

There were even flowers woven in among the garlic braids. Some women tucked small aromatic sprigs into the baskets, as if blessing the food before it reached an unfamiliar kitchen. Sanji recognized the gesture without really thinking about it.

He stopped in front of a fish with bluish skin he had never seen before. It was still moving, slow, persistent spasms running through its body. The vendor told him its name in a low voice, without urging him to buy, as if sharing it were already part of the exchange.

Sanji didn’t hesitate. He thought of possible ingredients, of contrasts in flavor. With rice, it would be perfect.

…

His gaze lingered a second too long on nothing in particular, as if something had distracted him from the inside. Noticing the vendor’s concern, he lowered his eyes just enough to collect himself before looking back up with a soft smile, agreeing to take the fish.

He walked away, and after putting some distance between them, lifted his eyes to the sky. He pulled the cigarette from his mouth, letting the smoke slip out from the corner of his lips.

He was still thinking about what had happened on the ship.

“He didn’t even come down to eat, that bastard…”

He struck the ground with the tip of his shoe, frustrated. He huffed, shoulders slumping slightly, and brought the cigarette back to his lips to exhale a thicker plume.

“Tsk… better this way,” he muttered. “If I’d seen him, I would’ve kicked him in the face…”

He cleared his throat, trying to take the weight off his own words, off his own concern.

He failed.

He tried to focus on his task. On supplies. On new ingredients, on dishes that didn’t exist yet. That was his domain. That was what should occupy his mind.

Not a walking patch of moss with anger issues.

And yet, Zoro kept coming back. Again and again.

He always found a way.

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⁃ (5) ⁃

.

.

.

“HOW COULD YOU EAT THEIR OFFERING?!”

Nami’s shout bounced off the walls of the hotel room as she shook Luffy with both hands. Night had already settled in, and outside the island slept beneath a deceptively calm stillness.

“I WAS HUNGRY!” Luffy wailed, letting himself be rattled without putting up any resistance.

“Now they won’t want to help us, you idiot!” Nami shoved him away, anger riding the push.

In one corner, Usopp was visibly nervous, running a hand through his hair or fidgeting anxiously with his fingers.

“At least they didn’t call the Marines…” he muttered, trying to see a brighter side.

Robin laughed softly from the bed, Chopper resting against her arms.

“And if they like Sanji’s offering enough tomorrow, they might even help us with the ship!” Chopper added, enthusiasm rekindled.

“I hope so…” Nami sighed, pressing two fingers to her temple. “I didn’t want to stay here another day.”

A resigned, weary breath slipped from the navigator’s lips. She moved to one of the beds and let herself fall onto it, trying to find some comfort in the softness of the mattress and blankets.

Luffy ended up sprawled on the floor after the shove. Flat on his back, head tilted awkwardly after bumping into one of the room’s pieces of furniture. From there, he turned his head and noticed Sanji arranging the bags of supplies.

“What are you doing, Sanji?” he asked, craning his neck… and letting the rest of his body follow.

The kick came before he could get any closer.

“Don’t touch,” Sanji growled. “I’m taking this back to the ship.”

Luffy rubbed his face for barely a second before springing back up.

“Oh! I’ll help you!”

“Don’t even dream it!” Sanji snapped. “I don’t want you eating everything!”

“Come on, Luffy, leave Sanji alone,” Usopp cut in, more out of instinct for culinary self-preservation than diplomacy.

Chopper slipped out of Robin’s arms and approached cautiously.

“Sanji… are you sure you don’t want help? I kind of want to check on Zoro too…”

Sanji’s movement stopped.

Just for an instant.

The smile was still there, intact, but something inside him tightened. He didn’t answer right away.

He didn’t know what to say.

Then Robin’s voice slid between them, gentle.

“Doctor… my stomach hurts a little. Could you take a look?”

She rested a hand on her abdomen, the gesture delicate.

Chopper blinked once before reacting.

“Of course!” he said, hurrying over to her.

Sanji watched them leave. Robin cast him a sidelong glance before stepping out of the room.

Even though it wasn’t long or obvious, something in that look left a faint tremor in his legs, an uneasy sensation, as if she had brushed against a thought he wasn’t ready to touch yet. He tried to steady himself with the idea that anyone would get nervous around a woman that beautiful.

It clearly had nothing to do with the fact that he wanted to go to the Merry… alone.

Because of course, his intention was to go to the Merry, not to see Zoro.

“I’m off! Hope you feel better, my dear Robin!” he exclaimed, blowing a kiss into the air as he lifted the bags.

He stepped out into the hallway.

The noise of the hotel fell away behind him. His footsteps echoed more than he expected against the wooden floor. He adjusted his grip on the bags and kept moving. He hadn’t rushed out to avoid any further questions, of course not.

Nor was he heading back to the ship for any hidden reason. Nothing like that. He was simply making sure the supplies were stored properly. That was his duty as the cook.

Period.

Go check on Zoro? Pfft.

And what did it matter if that idiot had gone the whole day without eating?

He’d brought it on himself by hurting Nami. Clearly, he didn’t care how he was doing. And Sanji certainly wasn’t planning to stay behind to cook him something and make sure that, for once, he actually ate properly during the day.

I mean…

Yeah, he was going to cook.

But it was to bring dinner to his queens.

That was all. If there were leftovers, well, that was extra.

And if the mosshead decided to help himself after Sanji left… then fine. That wasn’t his problem.

“…I’m just doing my job,” he muttered, shrugging. “What kind of cook would I be if I let someone starve?”

.

.

.

The night air was cool when he stepped outside. It struck his face and cleared his head a little, but not enough. The Merry waited for him in the distance, yet he stopped.

Just for a second.

His chest ached. A dense, uncomfortable pressure settled right beneath his ribs. He couldn’t tell whether it came from exhaustion, from a day that had dragged on too long, or from something else entirely. It was a tangle of sensations he didn’t know how to name… and definitely didn’t like.

“Damn mosshead…” he muttered, before setting off toward the Merry once more.

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⁃ (6) ⁃

The moon rose beautiful that night.

From the dock, the clear water reflected its silhouette with an almost religious devotion. Sanji walked most of the way with his gaze lost in that reflection, as if the stillness of the scene could muffle the noise humming in his chest. He let himself drift in the bluish, silvery tones, in the way the moonlight fractured across the surface of the sea and came back together without effort.

As he drew closer to the Merry, he noticed a light on.

“Looks like the bastard finally came down from the mast…”

He wanted to be indignant. After all, that damn shameless idiot had spent the entire day holed up, refusing to face anyone.

And yet…

His body loosened just a little, as if a weight he hadn’t known was there had slipped away. A treacherous relief.

“Hey, marimo!” he called out.

Nothing.

He called again. Then a third time. The silence didn’t give.

No answer.

A vein throbbed in his forehead. Irritation rising, he climbed onto the ship with the bags still in his arms. Was he going to ignore him now? Him?

He was already mentally rehearsing every way he was going to make him pay when something stopped him cold.

The bottles.

There wasn’t just one. Or two. There were too many. More than he himself had ever left within reach. He recognized some from the cabinet Zoro, or anyone else, wasn’t supposed to know about. Bottles he had hidden on purpose.

His stomach clenched.

He took the stairs two at a time.

“ZORO!” he roared, shoving the kitchen door open.

The bags slipped from his hands. The impact was swallowed by the thick silence of the room.

The kitchen was a wreck.

Open bottles. Broken glass. Alcohol spilled across the floor, the walls, the wood. The smell was sharp, invasive.

Sanji stood there, frozen.

His fists clenched, knuckles white with rage.

“WHAT THE HELL IS THIS SUPPOSED TO MEAN?!”

He was going to kill him.

The decision was clear. Absolute.

And then he saw him.

Roronoa Zoro…

The Demon of the East Blue…

The man who had sworn to surpass Dracule Mihawk…

His crewmate.

Completely drunk.

He was clumsily hugging his sword, a half-empty bottle of sake dangling from his hand. His cheeks were wet. His lashes stuck together. Tears still trapped beneath closed lids.

He had been crying.

The air caught in Sanji’s chest. Shock rooted him in place, and then he really looked. At the hands. The arms, marked and battered. Poorly closed wounds. The picture finally settled with an uncomfortable weight.

Zoro had been pushing himself harder than anyone had noticed.

For days.

Robin’s words came back without warning.

It’s really hard to know whether you truly know someone.

Everything else lost its importance.

The morning incident…

The destroyed kitchen…

None of it mattered now.

He dragged the bags into a corner and left them there, forgotten. Stepped forward carefully, weaving around bottles and shards of glass. He approached slowly.

“Hey…” he murmured. “What the hell happened?”

He wasn’t sure Zoro could hear him, but he sat down beside him anyway. The smell of alcohol was overwhelming. Anyone else would’ve ended up with alcohol poisoning after that much liquor, but Zoro had never been normal.

Sanji placed a hand on his shoulder.

Pulled it back when he felt him trembling.

Then set it there again, deliberately.

It felt awkward.

Weird.

He didn’t know what to do.

But he knew what not to do: Leave him alone.

Zoro hiccupped. The sound was low, clumsy, foreign to him. He clutched tighter at what he held in his arms. For a moment, Sanji thought he was looking for shelter.

“Today…” Zoro murmured. “She would’ve been twenty…”

Sanji stiffened.

“…Who?”

There was no answer.

Zoro fell asleep, still holding Wado Ichimonji as if it were the only thing keeping him tethered to something real.

Sanji watched him in silence.

He thought that maybe Zoro had stayed awake just to watch over the Merry, and now that someone else was there…

it wasn’t necessary anymore.

“Hey…” he tried again, gently shaking him.

Nothing.

He sighed.

He swept his gaze over the wreckage. Then back to Zoro. He didn’t know what he was supposed to feel.

He lifted him onto his back with care. Even asleep, Zoro didn’t let go of the sword for a second, which made holding him awkward. Sanji moved slowly to the men’s quarters and laid him down as if any sudden motion might break something already too fragile.

He went back for a damp cloth and began cleaning him in silence.

He passed the cloth over his cheek, clumsy at first… then more sure. Zoro’s face reacted only with tiny, involuntary shifts to the contrast between his warm skin and the cold, wet fabric.

Sanji held his face gently to wipe away the traces of sweat, alcohol, dried salt. Even asleep, he looked only tired… exhausted. He drew the cloth down over his neck and shoulders.

And then he saw it.

The scar crossing his chest.

Sanji froze.

He had seen it countless times… yet he couldn’t stop remembering the day it appeared. Seconds stretched into minutes, minutes into hours. With a trace of hesitation, he rested his hand against Zoro’s pectoral.

It was warm. Solid. He felt his breathing beneath his palm, slow… deep.

Alive.

He stayed there a few seconds longer than necessary.

He wondered what kind of weight someone had to carry to reach that point. But for all the questions without answers crowding his mind… he never judged him.

He couldn’t.

Some things weren’t meant to be said, and he knew that.

He sat beside the hammock. By then, Zoro slept with his brow relaxed, his body finally still, as if for the first time in a long while he could do so without keeping watch over anything.

Sanji hoped he was truly resting now. He took his own blanket and draped it over him, carefully. Then he turned and left.

.

.

.

Zoro woke with his head throbbing dully, like a poorly tuned drum. The pain wasn’t new, but something about it felt different, an insistent discomfort that wouldn’t quite settle. He blinked a few times before realizing where he was.

And then he felt a different kind of weight on his body.

A blanket.

He recognized it even through the haze in his vision. The scent was faint but unmistakable: salt air mixed with tobacco. He turned his head slightly. On the small table nearby sat a glass of water and an aspirin, set there with care.

Zoro stayed perfectly still. Memories of the night before surfaced in fragments. Shadows. Muffled sounds. The harsh taste of alcohol. Gaps he couldn’t fill. But there was one sensation that lingered, clearer than the rest.

The feeling of a ghost touch.

His hand went to his chest before he could think. His fingers closed over skin, searching for something that was no longer there. He stayed like that for a moment, breathing slowly. He didn’t speak. He didn’t think… he didn’t want to.

He took the pill and drained the water in one swallow. Relief would take its time, but it would come.

He sat up and left the room.

The ship was clean…

Too clean.

The deck was calm, the air still, as if the Merry itself were trying not to disturb him. He moved without making a sound, guided by a habit that required no thought.

The kitchen greeted him in silence.

Everything was in order.

On the table, a plate of onigiri still warm.

The air weighed heavy as it filled his lungs. He stood there a second longer, unmoving, not touching anything.

His gaze caught on the grains, on the clean white of the rice. Zoro felt his shoulders tense just slightly. He didn’t know how to react, or where to place himself in front of that.

A different pressure settled in his chest, forcing him to look away.

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⁃ (7) ⁃

Sanji yawned as he rubbed his eyes with the back of his hand. The ship was clean, the supplies neatly stored, and before he knew it he was already getting ready to prep the ingredients for the offering. Fatigue settled heavy on his shoulders, slowing his movements more than usual. He cut with precision, but his body was running on memory alone.

Luffy, on the other hand, was bursting with energy.

He sat atop a stack of crates with a chunk of meat in hand, the same one Sanji had given him to buy a little peace. He chewed happily, humming his favorite tune without the slightest shame.

“Meat~ meat~ yummy meaaaat~”

“Way too cheerful for the idiot who got us into this mess,” Sanji snorted, not looking up from the cutting board.

Luffy answered with a laugh, mouth still full. Sanji sighed, kept chopping… and then the doubt slipped in without warning, like a splinter.

“Hey.”

“Mmh?”

“Yesterday… when you and Zoro were up on the mast,” he said, forcing a casual tone, “did he tell you what was going on with him?”

“Nope.”

The knife hit the board with a sharp crack, harder than necessary.

“What?!” Sanji spun around. “Then what the hell did you talk about up there?!”

Luffy lowered the meat. For a moment, his expression shifted. Sanji went still, waiting.

“He just said… that she died like that.”

“…Who?”

Luffy shrugged, as if the answer carried no weight at all.

Sanji stared at him for a second, disbelieving. Then he turned back to the table and went back to work, his movements a little rougher now.

Of course. It had been stupid to expect anything else. Luffy never pried where he wasn’t invited. He hadn’t with Nami. He hadn’t with him. If someone wanted to talk, Luffy listened. If not, he moved on. Zoro hadn’t elaborated, and that was enough.

He sighed.

It must’ve shown, because Luffy let out one of those little laughs of his, the kind that always came right before something blunt and innocently brutal.

“Hey, Sanji… if you’re that worried, why don’t you just ask him?”

“Worried?!” he growled, not turning around. “About that gorilla? Don’t say stupid things. I just want to make sure he never lays a finger on any of my ladies again.”

He chopped harder against the board.

Luffy burst out laughing.

“Come on! It’s Zoro.”

Sanji didn’t answer right away.

Yeah… it was Zoro.

And still, that smile of Luffy’s, so calm, so certain… started to get under his skin.

“What?” he muttered.

“You’re a lot alike, you know.”

“GET TO WORK ALREADY!”

The kick came without warning.

.

.

.

“…Guys.”

Robin walked a few steps ahead, Chopper at her side. She didn’t raise her voice, but it was enough for the group to stop what they were doing and turn toward her. The little reindeer looked worried, ears drawn tight.

“Robin heard something in the village,” Chopper said, lowering his voice. “And it doesn’t sound very good…”

“It seems we’ve gotten ourselves into something bigger than just helping with an offering,” she added.

As she spoke, she pulled a book from her belongings and opened it naturally to a page already marked. Her fingers traced the lines with calm precision.

“What do you mean?” Nami asked, frowning.

Robin read aloud, unhurried.

“‘He who is not a child of this land, and yet lays a hand upon the offering, shall be bound to the rite.’”

She closed the book for a brief moment, studying her crewmates.

“A rite?” Nami repeated, uneasy.

Chopper nodded.

“I heard that the offering begins a ritual…” The reindeer rubbed his hooves together nervously.

“A traditional battle,” Robin continued. “In honor of their god.”

“Looks like these dates are important to them,” Usopp muttered, fanning himself with his shirt, nerves getting the better of him.

“A battle?!” Luffy lit up instantly, throwing his arms into the air. “Does that mean free food and a fun fight?! This island is awesome!”

“You know what would be awesome?” Nami smacked him hard on the head. “IF YOU COULD STAY STILL FOR FIVE MINUTES SINCE WE GOT OFF THE SHIP!”

“Ow…”

“And what exactly is this battle about?” Sanji asked, not joining the chaos, brow slightly furrowed.

Robin reopened the book, skimming quickly before answering.

“There aren’t many details… but it mentions two traditional factions. They call them the ‘Men of Light’ and the ‘Men of Shadow.’”

“Is it a team battle?” Usopp swallowed.

“Yes,” she said. “In ancient times, only one side survived. These days it’s more symbolic… though from what I’ve gathered, they still take it very seriously.”

Chopper nodded again.

“Before the fight, participants go through something they call ‘spiritual cleansing.’”

“…I don’t like the sound of that,” Nami murmured.

“It’s a purification process before entering the battle circle,” Robin explained. “It involves wearing ritual garments, using shackles to balance energies…”

She paused briefly before the final line.

“…and fasting.”

“…Fasting?” Luffy turned his head slowly, as if he’d misheard.

“It means you won’t be able to eat anything,” Usopp clarified, hands on his hips with a resigned sigh.

“WHAAAAT?!”

“Looks like the only thing he’s actually worried about is food,” Sanji muttered, lighting a cigarette. “What a surprise.”

Robin turned another page, studying it more intently than the last, but said nothing.

.

.

.

They met with the villagers at dusk. There were no questions, only movement. Robin had already said enough for no one to ask what came next. They climbed to the top of the mountain, steps steady as branches bent beneath the weight of those passing through.

They were made to sit in circles, directly on the ground. The earth was cold, packed hard. Ritual cloths were draped over them, rough against the skin, interwoven with fresh leaves and branches that released a green, damp, heavy scent. The forest remained there, breathing all around them.

Two men stood before each of them.

One held a polished black box, its golden edges catching the torchlight that ringed the clearing. The other stood with his head bowed, unmoving. They did not meet their eyes. They did not speak.

The drums began to thunder, low and repetitive. The sound seeped beneath the skin, striking the chest, regulating breath without permission.

The rhythm grew.

And when there was no room left to think of anything else, an elder cloaked in dark robes stepped into the center of the clearing.

The pounding did not stop.

“Brothers and sisters…” his voice rose effortlessly. “Today, we begin a new cycle…”

Luffy hardly seemed to be listening. One hand rested on his stomach, his lips pulled into a pronounced pout as he calculated how long it would be until he could eat again. Usopp nudged him lightly to pull him back.

By then, the men standing before them were already opening the boxes.

Inside lay shackles of a dull gray, heavy even to look at. The metal did not reflect the firelight; it seemed to absorb it. In unison, they began to recite an ancient verse, repeated for generations.

“Before the gaze of the gods, remove what was lent by others.”

They stepped forward.

“Let foreign influences be broken, and the man set free.”

They extended their hands. The drums climbed another notch.

“In the circle, only that which belongs to you shall remain.”

The shackles drew closer to their wrists.

“So it shall be.”

The metal snapped shut.

Luffy fell first…

Then Robin…

And finally, Chopper.

The impact was sharp, immediate, as if something invisible had ripped the strength from them in an instant. The three collapsed to the ground, breathing hard, their bodies heavy and rigid.

“What the—…?” Those still standing took a second too long to react.

Usopp swallowed hard.

“Don’t tell me that—”

“Are they made of seastone?” Sanji asked aloud, staring down at his own wrists as the answer settled in on its own.

Luffy tried to sit up. Failed. His body refused to answer him; his tongue tangled uselessly in his mouth, words dragging out, clumsy.

“It’s fine… I can still…” he mumbled, slurring.

Robin didn’t push it. She recognized the limit immediately and crawled just far enough to pull Chopper into her arms. The reindeer was breathing fast, eyes wide with fear. It was the first time he had ever felt anything like this.

The elder’s voice rose again, cutting over the drums.

“The gods have purified their bodies!”

The rhythm stopped.

“WHAT KIND OF PURIFICATION IS THIS?!”

Nami’s scream tore through the clearing. Both she and Usopp had pressed themselves against Sanji, pale, as if the ground itself might open up and swallow them at any moment.

“Sanjiiii…” Usopp whimpered, clutching his arm. “What are we going to do…?”

Sanji cleared his throat, trying to organize something he didn’t fully have himself.

“Calm down.” He exhaled slowly. “We’re allowed one weapon per team. If you stay hidden with your slingshot, I can cover you while we fight.”

“WHY DOES IT HAVE TO BE ME?! WHY NOT NAMI?!”

“DON’T DRAG ME INTO THIS, USOPP!” Nami shook him without patience.

“I CAN’T GO!” he protested, clutching his chest. “I just discovered I suffer from the incurable disease of I-can’t-participate-in-rituals!”

There was no time left to argue.

The villagers were already moving among them, beginning to fit them with ceremonial adornments. Cloth first, then the rest. No explanations. No one thought them necessary.

Men came and went in groups of three, carrying shoulder guards, anklets, thick belts. Long masks. Exaggerated. Impossible to ignore.

It wasn’t until they tried to put them on that it became clear.

Nami dropped to her knees the moment the shoulder guards were tightened, the impact knocking the breath from her chest. Usopp didn’t even manage to lift the mask; he pitched forward before he could balance it.

Sanji was the only one who managed to put everything on.

Even so, the weight forced him to adjust his stance, muscles protesting immediately, the mask stealing most of his field of vision. The world narrowed, grew clumsy.

Usopp trembled beneath the weight of the garments.

“This isn’t a ritual, it’s torture!” Nami groaned. “What’s the point of these outfits?!”

“I can’t feel my legs!” Usopp cried, on the verge of tears.

The judges of the ceremony watched with visible disappointment. Nami tore part of the adornments off in desperation.

“Forget it. This is useless. We can’t fight like this.” She looked at Sanji. “Only you and Luffy could handle this much weight.”

“That’s not true…” Usopp started. “Zoro could too. We should call him—”

Sanji froze.

The image struck without warning.

Zoro asleep, clutching his sword. The sour stench of alcohol. The heavy weight of his body against Sanji’s back.

The memories came without order. He pressed his lips together until they went white. And then, without thinking, he smiled.

A crooked smile. Arrogant.

“Zoro? What for?”

“What do you mean, what for?!” Usopp threw his arms wide. “You need a partner and we can’t even move in this stuff!”

Sanji straightened.

“I can handle this alone.”

It took effort to stay upright, his body reminding him with every breath… but he didn’t yield. Nami watched him, uncertain.

“Sanji… are you sure?”

“Of course, my dear Nami.” He lifted his chin. “I don’t need that moss-brained idiot to win some ridiculous village fight.”

Usopp groaned, defeated.

“You’re going to die, Sanji…”

“Hey, old man—”

Without looking back at his friends, Sanji started forward, ignoring the burn in his muscles. He would talk to him. Convince him to let him fight alone and—

…that way there’d be no need to drag Zoro into this.

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⁃ (8) ⁃

Zoro was on the Merry’s deck, tightening a few ropes that had loosened with the night tide. The dock felt different that morning. Strangely still. Nothing like the chaos of the day before.

Aside from him, there was only one other man there, standing on a tied canoe, casting his net with slow, mechanical movements.

Zoro didn’t give it much thought.

He finished tightening the knot and straightened just as a voice broke the calm.

“Mr. Aurelio!”

A boy came running from the far end of the dock, his steps clumsy, his breathing uneven. He stopped beside the fisherman, speaking with such excitement that his voice carried easily all the way to the ship.

“You have to come see the fight! Something happened… something that’s never happened before!”

The older man didn’t even look up.

“And what’s the rush now, son?” he said, adjusting the net. “It’s the same every year. Come on, help me.”

“No, you don’t understand!” the boy insisted. “The master of ceremonies allowed only one fighter on the Men of Shadow side!”

“Huh?” the fisherman grunted. “What do you mean, just one? Aren’t there enough warriors to fill the teams?”

“That’s not it!” The boy shook his head, almost bouncing in place. “This year there are outsiders participating!”

Without realizing it, Zoro tightened the rope between his fingers and went still. He didn’t turn right away, but he began to listen more closely.

“The kids from the sheep-headed ship?” the old man asked.

“Yes! There were like five of them… but only one passed the purification. Three of them collapsed the moment they put the ceremonial shackles on.”

Zoro tied off the rope in a hurry and moved toward the edge of the ship.

“Three at once?” Mr. Aurelio finally looked up. “That’s never happened before…”

“I know!” The boy smiled, nervous and thrilled. “It’s a shame. The black-haired one seemed really eager to fight… I think he was the one who ate the whole offering. I would’ve liked to see him in battle.”

The air stopped in Zoro’s chest.

Black-haired? Shackles? Collapsed?

A sharp chill ran up his spine.

“And who’s fighting then?” the fisherman asked.

“A blond guy,” the boy replied. “He looks pretty confident, but I doubt he’ll win. Our warriors have been undefeated for four years.”

Zoro was already climbing down from the ship.

“…A blond with a ridiculous spiral eyebrow?”

Both men turned toward him, startled.

“Uhh… maybe? I didn’t get a good look—”

Zoro dropped onto the dock in a single leap and crossed the distance in two strides. He grabbed the boy by the collar without realizing how much force he was using.

“Where?” he snapped.

“H-Hey, easy!”

“WHERE ARE THEY FIGHTING?!”

“A-at the summit of Mount of the Bond!” the boy stammered, pointing toward the horizon, where the tallest mountain loomed. “T-that’s where the sacred circle is…”

Zoro didn’t need anything else. He let go, the boy falling back in shock as the older man hurried to help him. There was no time for complaints.

The swordsman was already running.

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⁃ (9) ⁃

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The bond shall not be broken as long as one remains within the circle.

If both cross the boundary, the ritual ends.

Remember, competitors! The gods will speak to those who honor the rite. They will show you when to advance… and when to hold fast.

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The blow sent the blond flying. From outside the circle, they watched him roll across the dirt, his body heavy, clumsy. Sanji coughed a couple of times as he hit the ground, then tried to push himself up again. The ceremonial mask had slipped, sitting crooked on his face; his chest rose and fell unevenly, far too fast.

Usopp swallowed.

“This isn’t right…” he whispered, unable to look away.

Nami didn’t answer at once. Her fists were clenched tight, nails digging into her palms as she tracked the rhythm of the fight. Sanji fell back, surged forward again, dodging through margins that kept narrowing.

“Sanji can’t fight alone,” she said at last, jaw set.

A few meters away, Luffy dragged himself along the ground, mumbling that he could get up and fight, he just needed one more second. His body refused him. Robin and Chopper barely moved.

“We have to do something…” Usopp insisted, his voice starting to crack.

Nami stepped forward.

Then another step… and then she broke into a run.

“Oi, Nami!”

“I’m going to get Zoro!” she shouted without looking back. “Stop Luffy from getting into the fight!”

“Getting into—?!”

Usopp’s eyes widened just in time to see the captain try to launch himself again.

“LUFFY!!” he yelled, throwing himself toward him.

Inside the circle, Sanji fell once more.

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The ground was cold and damp. His exposed skin was already smeared with wet earth and blood, split open by his opponent’s weapon: a bladed gauntlet, claw-like.

There was no time to think.

He pushed himself up however he could before another blow found him still down. His body answered out of habit, out of pride; sheer stubbornness keeping him upright.

A kick. A clumsy turn.

The weight of the ceremonial adornments dragged at his shoulders, as if something were trying to pull him back to the ground.

The next attack came from an impossible angle. Sanji dodged by a ridiculous margin and felt the air slice his cheek. The blow he didn’t take still rattled through his bones. He retreated just enough, careful not to step outside the circle.

He couldn’t afford that.

He drew a deep breath, forcing his chest to obey. The world narrowed to what mattered: footsteps, shadows, marks in the dirt.

Crossings… Lines… Symbols repeating.

One advanced. The other covered.

Always the same.

Sanji began to see it. Every time they touched a mark, the next movement was identical… predictable.

They weren’t faster. They weren’t stronger.

There were two of them.

And that was the problem.

He blocked a strike, answered with a kick that forced one of them back… and the punishment came instantly from behind. The impact tore the air from his lungs again. He dropped to his knees this time, teeth clenched, vision swimming.

There was no margin.

No rest.

Every mistake cost him twice.

They moved as if they shared the same pulse. They covered each other, waited for each other, held each other up even when one faltered.

Sanji clenched his jaw until it ached.

He didn’t think it through… he didn’t want to.

But the space at his back felt too large, too exposed—

Empty.

That exact gap where someone else should have been. Where a blow would never have landed. Where the mistake would have been covered.

His lungs burned.

Before another strike could reach him, he gathered every scrap of strength he had left into a single kick, brutal and direct.

As if shattering the pattern by force could make up for what was missing.

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⁃ (10) ⁃

Zoro cursed under his breath. That damn place was supposed to be here… and yet the path refused to appear.

He forced himself forward, legs burning as the mountain closed in around him. Vegetation scraped at his arms, the air growing thicker with every stride—

Then he saw her: Nami.

“Zoro! Oh my god, Zoro! Where were you? San—!”

She didn’t finish. The scream tore out of her when Zoro scooped her up without warning, slinging her over his shoulder as if she weighed nothing.

“Which way?” he growled.

Nami barely had time to grab on before pointing ahead. She started talking all at once, breathless as they ran. The ritual. The circle. Sanji.

Zoro clenched his jaw.

He didn’t say a word, but the weight hit him full force.

If he hadn’t stayed behind. If he hadn’t let everything else overwhelm him.

The ground grew steeper.

“Y-you have to wear these,” Nami said, pulling out the shackles and struggling not to lose her balance. “They won’t let you fight without them.”

She fastened them as best she could, the cold metal snapping shut around his wrists as he ran. Zoro spared them only a glance before fixing his eyes forward again.

“These are…?”

“Part of their culture,” she replied. “They think it prevents outside interference. Gods, powers… things like that.”

“Devil Fruits?”

“I think it goes further than that,” Nami said. “But it’s definitely seastone. Chopper, Robin, and Luffy collapsed the moment they put them on.”

Zoro nodded once and kept running.

The silence lasted only a few seconds, but it was heavy.

“Nami…” he said at last.

“Hm?”

He didn’t look at her.

“About yesterday…” He swallowed. “I’m sorry.”

The words came out rough, like a poorly closed wound.

Nami blinked, surprised. Her expression softened… and she smiled.

That was enough.

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The clearing appeared all at once.

Zoro dropped her without even stopping and kept running.

“Zoro!” Nami shouted after him. “You can only use one weapon!”

The swords flew toward her without him breaking stride. He kept only Wado.

“Wait!” she cried, catching them. “If you don’t wear the ceremonial garb, they won’t let you participate!”

There was no answer.

“ZORO!” she yelled again. “AT LEAST PUT ON THE MASK!”

Zoro didn’t slow down.

The circle was already right in front of him.

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Sanji’s shout was swallowed by the echoes of the fight. Ragged, gasping, the world narrowed to pain and noise. Sweat burned in his eyes.

The enemy’s claw arced down toward him, perfect.

And then the impact never came.

CLANG!

Metal tore through the air. The vibration ran through his bones before he could focus.

A familiar figure stood in front of him. The mask half on, green hair spilling loose at one side, a single sword raised and steady.

“Zoro…?” he panted, hardly believing it.

Zoro didn’t answer.

The claw was still pinned against Wado Ichimonji, the blade firm, not yielding a single millimeter. His shoulders were tight, his body already set in guard.

“You are violating the ritual!”

The voice lashed down from the edge of the circle.

Zoro didn’t move.

“Call the guards—”

“Enough.”

The murmurs died as the elder rose slightly from his seat, planting his staff against the wood.

“Outsider…”

The elder studied Zoro carefully. The shackles at his wrists. The way he held the sword. The posture he maintained despite everything.

“You intervened to help him…”

Zoro clenched his jaw. A sharp huff escaped him.

“But the young man chose to enter alone,” the elder continued. “Even so…”

He lifted his gaze briefly toward the sky.

“If the gods allowed you to reach this place, I cannot ignore it. You will fight.”

A ripple of murmurs ran through the judges.

“But you will do so under our rules.” His gaze hardened. “Put on the garments. All of them.”

Zoro clicked his tongue.

He leaned slightly toward Sanji.

“Get up.”

Sanji blinked, his heart still pounding in his chest for reasons that were no longer just the fight.

“Don’t give me orders, damn mosshead.”

He pushed himself to his feet with a grunt, shaking dirt from his clothes. Zoro pulled the mask fully into place, tightened the straps with sharp, efficient motions. The weight settled onto his shoulders like a sentence being passed.

The elder nodded after a brief exchange with the others.

“Let the ritual continue!”

The circle closed once more.

Zoro and Sanji stood shoulder to shoulder, not looking at each other.

The opponents repositioned.

The air vibrated, and the battle resumed.

At first, it was a collision.

Zoro advanced the way he always did. Straight ahead, cutting through space without asking permission. Sanji moved around him, circling, hunting angles, dodging on instinct. For a few seconds, they almost got in each other’s way. One step too far… one turn too late. The air filled with awkward near-misses.

Sanji waited. He let an attack pass that he would’ve dodged easily, felt the weight of the weapon sweep across his chest—

—and Zoro’s cut fell exactly there, clearing the space Sanji had left open.

They didn’t look at each other. They didn’t need to.

Zoro advanced half a step less in the next exchange. Sanji lunged at the same time, perfectly in sync. A kick threw the opponent off balance, the blade finished the motion without pause.

The blond twisted under a strike. Zoro was already there, blocking the opposite flank. The attack rebounded. The counter came from two different directions.

They traced their own patterns. When to leave space open. When to close it. Sanji set the mark and Zoro answered without thinking, as if he had always known where that gap would be.

“Up!” Sanji shouted.

Zoro jumped without question. He landed behind him, deflecting a crossing strike with the flat of his blade. Sanji was already turning, the kick rising just as the opponent was shoved into its path.

One fell.

The other hesitated.

And that was his mistake.

Steel came down and the kick landed at the same time. The impact rang out, sharp, final.

The last opponent rolled until he lay outside the circle… and the drums fell silent one by one.

The priest raised his hand.

“Victory for the outsiders!”

The murmur exploded into shouts. Some incredulous. Others celebrating.

“THEY DID IT!” Usopp yelled from afar.

Nami let out the breath she’d been holding and dropped to her knees. Chopper smiled through tears. Robin closed her eyes, relieved.

Somehow, Luffy laughed.

“Nishishi…” he murmured. “They look good together.”

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⁃ (11) ⁃

Zoro was sitting on a wooden crate, his bare torso covered in fresh marks. The air still smelled of earth, blood, and dried sweat. Sanji was wrapping a bandage around his arm, pulling tighter than necessary.

“Ouch…” Zoro growled. “Are you trying to cut off my circulation or what?”

“Deal with it,” Sanji replied without looking at him. “Chopper’s still wiped out from the shackles. Or would you rather call him and have him barely able to stand?”

Zoro clicked his tongue but didn’t argue.

Sanji’s hands stopped for just a second. He lowered his gaze and let out a slow breath. When he moved again, it was with less force, the gesture more careful even if he wouldn’t admit it.

He gave the bandage another tug. The silence between them began to stretch, thick and uncomfortable, the kind that couldn’t be filled with easy words.

“How did it even occur to you to fight alone?” Sanji muttered. “You always do whatever the hell you want, idiot.”

His teeth clenched. He didn’t answer right away. One hand still held the bandage, the other curling slowly into a fist. A tremor ran up his arm before he could stop it.

Suddenly, he yanked Zoro forward by the bandages across his chest.

Their foreheads collided. Abrupt. Unexpected. Leaving no space between them.

“And what about you?” Sanji spat under his breath. “You think carrying everything by yourself makes you better?”

They were breathing the same warm air now, far too close. Eyes locked. The silence settled between them, heavy. Zoro didn’t pull away. Instead, he caught Sanji’s wrist and guided it to his chest.

Sanji’s eyes widened in surprise. Beneath scarred skin, the heartbeat was slow. Steady.

There were no words. And if a pink flush crept across both their faces, no one mentioned it. Sanji’s fingers loosened without him realizing, no longer resisting the touch.

“I’m trying to learn…” Zoro said quietly, as if the words weighed more than he wanted to admit.

The world seemed to pause in that narrow space between them.

“Did I really look that bad?” Zoro added, a brief grimace crossing his face, one Sanji couldn’t quite read.

Sanji looked away. He relaxed his grip, ready to step back, to break the moment before he understood it—but Zoro stopped him.

The swordsman rested a hand on his forearm. No movement followed. Just a silent, intense exchange of looks.

And then—

“SANJII!!”

Nami’s voice crashed down like a bucket of ice water. Sanji startled and, without meaning to, headbutted Zoro square in the face.

“AAAAH!” Zoro roared. “WHAT THE HELL IS WRONG WITH YOU, COOK?!”

“That’s your fault for not moving!”

“HOW IS IT MY FAULT WHEN YOU’VE GOT A DAMN ROCK FOR A HEAD?!”

“WELL MAYBE IT’LL KNOCK YOUR BRAIN BACK INTO PLACE, YOU IDIOT MARIMO!”

They started bickering, clumsily grappling more out of habit than real anger. Nami appeared in the doorway, stopped, and crossed her arms.

“Why can’t you go five minutes without fighting?”

Drawn by the noise, Chopper made the effort to peek into the room.

“A-are you guys okay…?”

Robin, beside him, smiled softly.

“Actually, Doctor,” she said, “I think this time… they really are.”

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⁃ (12) ⁃

Zoro was leaning against one of the dock’s pylons, staring out at the sea without really seeing it. Waves broke below with a steady rhythm, patient, calm.

“They’re already checking the Merry,” Sanji said as he came up beside him, resting his arms on the railing. “They even offered to fix a few other things on the ship.”

“Mmh…”

Sanji let the cigarette smoke slip from the corner of his lips. The bandages on his face were still there, but the sting had faded.

“We’ll be able to get the hell out of this island soon.”

No answer.

Zoro wasn’t looking at the sea anymore. His gaze had dropped, fixed on some point in the sand below.

“You didn’t answer me,” the swordsman said.

“Huh?”

“Did I really look that bad…” He paused briefly. “Bad enough for you to decide to jump in alone like that?”

Sanji took his time answering. He drew from the cigarette, exhaled slowly.

“I thought I could handle it.”

“Uh-huh…” Zoro murmured. “Liar.”

Sanji looked away. He didn’t deny it.

“How are you doing?” he asked suddenly. They both knew he wasn’t talking about physical injuries, but the neutrality of the question gave Zoro an exit if he didn’t want to go there.

Zoro clenched his fists.

“I thought I had it under control by now…” he said at last. “Guess not as much as I thought,” he added quietly, remembering what had happened with Nami.

The wind slipped between them, ruffling their hair, lifting the hems of their shirts.

“You really hate that day, don’t you?”

Zoro let out a short, humorless laugh.

“A little. Pathetic, huh?”

“Not really.”

The silence returned, but this time it didn’t weigh on them. Sanji lowered his cigarette, glancing at him sideways.

“Who was she…?”

“My best friend.”

That was all.

From somewhere down the dock, Usopp’s voice broke the calm.

“Hey, Zoro! Come help us carry some crates!”

Zoro sighed and straightened with mild reluctance. Before leaving, he turned back to Sanji.

“Maybe… someday I’ll tell you about her.”

And without another word, he held out Wado. The gesture caught Sanji off guard, but he took the sword carefully.

“Zoro!” Chopper called from the distance as well.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m coming!” Zoro grumbled, running a hand through his hair as he walked off.

Sanji followed him with his eyes, then lowered his gaze to the sword resting in his arms.

He smiled faintly.

And, in silence, pressed his lips to the hilt.

“Thank you for taking care of him…”

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