The Grand Line was a fickle mistress. One day she smiled upon the sailors on her seas, the next she was angry that anyone dared to touch her waters. Many ships littered the ocean floor filled with the skeletal remains of the crews that thought themselves better than her. The Straw Hats were given no exception. After the Thousand Sunny left Wano Country, she sent them on a long, wild journey through cyclones and spiking climates until a limping Sunny was spit out at Lawless Peak.
The jagged outline of the peak thrust up against the setting sun. The rugged terrain appeared barren of trees. A rough town sprawled along the coast, the buildings made from the bones of dead ships. The rocky shoreline bode of hazards underwater and the Sunny set anchor well beyond the tide. There were other ships anchored around Lawless Peak. Several trawlers, a caravel, and a handful of brigandine sloops. One ship flew an unknown jolly roger. A smaller vessel boasted the flag of the marines. The rest sailed colors of no importance. The Straw Hats might not have stopped, but the Sunny needed vast repairs. The Mini Merry II ferried half the crew to shore.
Sanji peeled off from the others, wanting to be by himself for a while. Between the storms and being packed in with the crew after a month ashore, the last few weeks on the Sunny had worn him down. He was also still coming to grips with everything that had happened at Whole Cake Island and the subsequent genetic modifications that had triggered on Wano. He wasn’t the best company right now.
He slipped his hands into his pockets, a cigarette dangling from his lips. The wind coming off the ocean flicked his blond hair. He wore a pale blue shirt beneath a dark suit with narrow pinstripes, a midnight blue tie neatly knotted at his neck. His polished shoes crunched on the broken stone underfoot as he wandered the streets of Lawless Peak without direction.
The waning sun cast long shadows down the alleys between buildings. Cunning, cruel eyes watched passersbys from the darkness. Ruffians, roughnecks, and thugs traded insults and bumped aggressively into one another on the street, leading to violent brawls and swordfights. Rough-looking men and women catcalled Sanji from open doorways along the street. “Look at the pretty boy.” “Who’s Mr. High and Snooty?” “Wouldn’t mind dirtying that suit for you!”
Sanji ignored them all, confident in his abilities, unconcerned about his appearance. He dressed how he dressed because he liked looking neat and clean. He’d once thought it would impress the ladies, but that turned out to be a joke. It was one aspect of himself he wouldn’t change, though. Sharp suits and knotted ties were what he felt most comfortable wearing, even though he no longer felt the same about his body.
He found himself reaching the edges of the main town, space widening, the buildings becoming sparse. Ahead, he noticed a weather-beaten house on the mountainside, a winding path leading up to the door. The house had crooked wings, dropping eaves, and a sense of mourning as if once she’d been a beauty but had now fallen into disrepair. Sanji wondered if it was haunted. It looked like that type of place.
Sanji’s feet took him that direction. The sound of the waves crashing against the rocky coastline grew louder as he walked away from town. Seabirds circled and dove at the splash of the waves, catching the fish that were flung toward the shore. The narrow path to the house was treacherous, a sheer drop on one side as it carved back and forth up the peak.
Broken windows and torn siding greeted Sanji as he crossed the fallen fence made of whalebone. The wraparound porch sagged tiredly with cracked banisters and newel posts. Decorative fascia drooped from the soffit along the tiered roofline. Two wings led off from the main portion of the house, uneven in height and length, giving the house a hunched appearance. The weathered, wooden front door hung loosely from its frame. A shattered sconce beside it had long since stopped providing light.
Sanji ventured up the cracked steps to rap his knuckles on the door. The door swung partially open on screaming hinges. “Hello? Anyone home?” he called, though he doubted he’d get a response. Still, it was only polite.
No one answered. Sanji extinguished his cigarette and stepped over the threshold into the dark interior. Peeling wallpaper and the scent of mold greeted him. A layer of dust coated the wood floor. A hallway stretched in front of him, disappearing into the darkness. Cobwebs stretched across faded oil paintings hanging on the walls and strung between the exposed rafters on the ceiling. Round lights hung from chains along the hallway. Sanji reflexively went to flip the lightswitch beside the door. No power.
Undeterred, Sanji retrieved his lighter from his pocket and flicked the spark wheel. An orange flame danced to life. He held the lighter higher, casting it around the hall. He saw the shadows of open doorways and a staircase leading up. The light didn’t penetrate that far.
The house felt abandoned, but Sanji still sensed people’s presence. He stretched his observation haki. There was no one here. Remnants of the past were all that lingered inside.
Sanji began to explore, the flickering orange flame lighting the way. He felt unafraid. The house might look haunted, but it was only an old house. No longer used, no longer loved. Heavy dust and cobwebs covered the furnishings he found. Shattered glass sprinkled the wood floors. The wind from outside gusted through the broken windows, causing the moth-eaten curtains to billow like ghosts.
Sanji’s tread caused the stairs to creak and groan as he went up them to the upper floor. A stained and beaten carpet lined the hall that led down each wing. Sanji picked a direction and walked that way. Family portraits too dusty and faded to decipher lined the hall. A bust without half its face guarded an open door. Sanji peeked into a bedroom. A four-poster bed with cobwebs for curtains and a falling-down wardrobe furnished the room.
He wondered what it would have been like to live here, surrounded by the roughness from town. The house was more fitting for nobles than ruffians. Perhaps it was once the governor or mayor’s mansion before lawlessness took over and gave the island its name. Or perhaps the owner enjoyed being the only suited gentry in a sea of scruffy scalliwags.
Sanji continued down the hallway until it ended at a tall clock missing its hands. A spider had woven an intricate web between the weights and pendulum. There was an outline around the clock where the faded floral wallpaper had peeled back. A hidden door. Sanji poked around until he found the latch and the clock swung open on creaky hinges to reveal a circular staircase winding down.
Sanji followed it. He ran his fingers over the cut stone as he descended ever further. He thought it would lead to the lower level, like a servants or children’s stairs, but it kept winding deeper and deeper. He felt like he was descending into the bowels of the peak. The flame from his lighter revealed moisture and the air smelled metallic. His observation haki tickled.
The stairs ended at a wall. Sanji pushed upon it until it opened with a scrape of stone against stone. He was in a tunnel of some sort, carved through the rock. It was unlighted. Sanji felt he was not alone, but he was not alerted to danger. Not yet. His footsteps echoed softly as he ventured down the tunnel. Curiosity overcame common sense.
The tunnel curved, taking him deeper into the mountain. He could hear the sounds of cracking and popping. A rising heat made the air stifling. Sanji went around another bend and could see light ahead. He closed his lighter and tucked it away. Slowing his step, he approached the crudely cut opening in the rock to peer beyond the edge.
He was surprised by what he saw. It appeared to be a combination of mad scientist laboratory and foundry. Conveyor belts wound throughout a wide open cavern. Silverly-gray ore dumped off the ends of the belts into large bins. Robotic claws hanging from support struts reached for the ore and dropped it into circular pits where lava heated it into molten metal. From there it was siphoned off into large molds of unknown design that stood like square soldiers on the far side of the cavern.
The rest of the space was taken up by lab tables and science equipment, control panels, monitors, and experiments. It reminded Sanji of the labs on Punk Hazard. Stark bulbs hanging from chains provided lighting. He could see figures strapped to tables, some in the open, some draped with sheets. He couldn’t tell if they were people or not from his angle. Five men and one older woman wearing lab coats moved between stations, taking notes or running operations. A sixth man, taller and broader than the rest, with a white beard and curling white mustache, oversaw the room. He had black goggle-type glasses over his eyes. He wore a full black suit and black shirt with a dark red sash around the waist. The boss, Sanji surmised.
Sanji needed to get closer to be able to see who, or what, was on the tables. If it was another Punk Hazard, he’d shut it down. If not, he could leave these scientists to their devices. For all he knew, they were the backbone of Lawless Peak.
Sanji couldn’t turn invisible any longer, as he’d crushed the raid suit back on Wano. He could move faster than the eye could see, if necessary. But for now, he’d stick to the shadows of the equipment spaced around the room. He could be stealthy. And if they spotted him, there were only six of them. He could take them down.
Sanji’s footsteps were muffled by the cracking and popping sounds he’d heard earlier, from ore being melted by hot lava. He slipped between the lab tables and tall consols, taking cover in their bulk. He found a shelf full of skulls in round jars filled with bubbling blue liquid. His lips thinned.
Sanji waited until one of the male scientists stepped away before slinking over to the nearest experiment table with a sheet draped over it. Carefully, he lifted the sheet to peer beneath it. At first, he thought it was a person in shadow, but then he realized he could see no skin. He reached up to rap his knuckles lightly against an arm. Metal.
He dropped the sheet and moved so he could see another experiment table. He was careful to avoid being seen. He was able to get close enough to look over the top of a lab table at the body. It was another metal figure. It was larger than a human, but with human-like sculpting. Sanji was confused, but he did not spy anyone in need of rescue or revenge. He could slip away and not worry about it anymore.
His observation haki set off an alarm the moment he was spotted. The female scientist had glanced in his direction at exactly the wrong time. With a curse, Sanji had to decide quickly between fighting or running. These scientists didn’t appear to be doing anything wrong, but should he chance it?
He waited too long and the decision was made for him by her shouting. The other scientists and the boss with the beard and mustache focused on him. The boss pointed a finger at Sanji where he crouched. Sanji expected him to give word to attack or demand to know who he was. Instead, the man rasped the words in a cruel voice, “Yōyū kinzoku.”
The molten metal waiting for transfer to the molds rose up like a wave from the pits. It folded itself into a spear and shot at Sanji. “Shit!” Sanji darted out of the way, his enhanced speed saving him. Behind him, the metal reformed into hundreds of small daggers, which shot out in many directions. The scientists dropped to protect themselves. One of them got hit, and his scream echoed against the cavern wall. Sanji felt the molten metal daggers smack into his back and the backs of his legs. He hadn’t expected it to hurt him. But the daggers were a lava-heated fiery liquid, not a solid, that burned the metal-like exoskeleton that was now part of his skin.
Sanji leapt over a table, fighting the pain, as another wave of molten metal rose up from the pits. The way he’d come in was in one direction, the boss in the other. Sanji wasn’t about to back down from a fight. Molten metal shards slammed into him again from behind as he charged toward the boss. He could smell that acrid scent of burning cloth and skin. The pain was intense and he grit his teeth against it. He needed to take the boss down.
Sanji kicked on the speed, closing the distance between them swiftly. He knew a third wave of metal had to be flying at him from behind. He could see the boss’s focus was up toward the ceiling. Sanji lit his leg afire and aimed a kick at the boss’s head. “Diable Jambe: Joue Shoot!”
His flaming foot connected with the boss, sending the man flying backwards, a shoe-print indenting his face and his beard and mustache on fire. The boss crashed into the wall of the cavern, causing a crater. But Sanji had been a fraction too slow. The third wave of molten metal the boss had been controlling dropped onto Sanji from overhead. Sanji screamed in agony as the scorching liquified metal coated him from the head down.
Then everything, blessedly, went black.
Sanji swam back to consciousness to the sulfurous scent of burnt chemicals. His brain spun woozily as he regained his bearings. He scrunched open his eyes as the memory of what had happened thrust into the forefront of his mind. Defeating the boss. Molten metal pouring onto him. He was prone on the ground of the cavern. He was able to see the bottoms of lab tables and other equipment. He could also see a dead scientist nearby. He expanded his observation haki and found he was otherwise alone.
Moving as little as possible, he slowly raised his hand to touch his face. His blackened, damaged skin pulled tightly. He could see that his left palm was untouched, which sent a wave of relief through him. He used his fingertips to probe his face. He felt his chin, mouth, his nose, and his eyelids, still all intact. His head had been tilted downward enough that the molten metal had run around the most important parts. He could feel his skin had warped around his cheeks and forehead. His eyebrows were still there. His fingers touched his left ear. It had curled over into a tight ball. He couldn’t feel any hair.
Slowly, carefully, he pushed himself to his knees. His burned clothing sloughed off him into dark ash. He didn’t hurt, but his skin felt tight. He cast a glance over his arms. The backsides of both were blackened and the skin warped in streaks and waves. His right palm had escaped unscathed. His right ear only had a slight curl to it.
His chest and thighs had suffered a similar fate, his clothing having burnt, his exoskeleton having warped or streaked wherever the molten metal had run down his body. He was certain his shoulders and back looked worse or that holes had burnt into him. He didn’t feel any pain. He huffed a slightly wild laugh when he saw his dick exposed as the burnt clothing fell away. It looked like a small piece of charcoal. His balls were painted in black rivulets. His pubic hair was gone. He looked abnormal.
Sanji pushed unsteadily to his feet. Parts of his shoes had melted away. He kicked them off. Black ash and remnants of clothing flaked away at the motion. The tops of his feet were as messed up as the rest of him. Another laugh bordering on hysterics broke from his lips. If this had happened to him two months ago, he would be dead on the floor, his skin melted to the bone. Instead, his genetic modifications had saved his life, his ex-father had saved his life. Again. Sanji didn’t know whether to be grateful or weep.
Grabbing one of the sheets off the experiment table, Sanji wrapped it around his waist for decency. He could see that the boss hadn’t recovered from Sanji’s kick. Bits of burnt clothing floated to the ground as he walked over to the man. His once pristine appearance likely had morphed into a horror show. He doubted he’d get any catcalls on the way back to the ship.
Crouching, he checked the boss’s pulse and didn’t find one. No need to worry about this guy and his devil’s fruit powers in the future. At least there was one positive. Two, if Sanji counted being alive.
Sanji headed for the exit, the same way he’d come into the cavern. His cigarettes were gone, but his lighter remained somewhat intact. He managed to get it lit. He retraced his steps, climbing ever higher through the winding staircase until he reached the open clock on the second floor of the house.
The sun had long set and the moon was more than halfway across its arc in the sky when Sanji stepped outside. The fresh air helped blow away the acrid scent in his nose. It felt weird not having the wind tousle his hair. He could feel a few strands make a valiant effort. He hoped his hair grew back. His ex-father was vain enough that it should. It wouldn’t do for royalty to be bald, unless by choice.
Sanji would be pissed if it grew back a different color, though. His blond hair was inherited from his parents. A reminder that he wasn’t like his siblings. But that had changed with the genetic modifications having kicked in. It was possible that his hair could come back black or purple. It was too bad his ridiculous eyebrows seemed untouched. They were probably wire or something else unnatural instead of hair.
The wind buffeted Sanji as he descended the path. His bare feet crunched over rock. The three-quarter moon lit his way. The town was quiet as he passed through, with only a few lights on within buildings. It was late enough that the revelry had gone to bed. A single figure stepped from a shadowed alley, a knife in his hand. A clear glance at Sanji sent him scurrying back into the shadows with a frightened cry.
Sanji wondered where his shipmates had gone. The Mini Merry II was parked where they’d left it, secured from theft by a hidden mechanism. He supposed they found an inn to spend the night. He’d have to have someone who’d remained on the ship bring the Mini Merry II back for them.
Sanji deactivated the anti-theft device and started up the Mini Merry II. Soon, he was coasting across the waves to the open soldier dock. The way Franky had built the soldier docks prevented the space from filling with water even with the door open. Sanji brought the Mini Merry II to a stop inside the hold. He shut off the engine, climbed onto the perimeter dock, and threw the lever that would close the outer door. Once it was sealed, the door to the interior of the ship could open.
The Sunny was silent as he climbed from the hold to the main deck. He knew someone would be on watch. The rest probably had gone to bed. Six of them had gone to the island: Sanji, Nami, Robin, Brook, Luffy and Chopper. Franky, Usopp, Jinbe and Zoro had stayed behind to work on repairing the ship.
Of course it would be Sanji’s luck that it was Zoro who was on watch. Zoro was shirtless, running katas in the grass, his tanned skin gleaming in the moonlight. Sanji could see a discarded bottle of sake near the tree. The breeze pushed the tree swing, as if a ghost was sitting on it, keeping Zoro company.
Zoro heard him, even though Zoro’s back was currently turned away. “That you, cook?”
“Yeah.” Sanji didn’t marvel that Zoro could tell it was him by his footsteps. He also didn’t want a conversation. He wanted a shower and to see how bad the damage was once he was clean. He had to cross the deck, though, in order to reach the steps that would take him toward the bathroom.
“It’s late. Or early, depending on your viewpoint. What’re you doing back?”
“Ran into trouble. Nothing to worry your mossy head about.”
It was the wrong thing to say. Zoro turned around and caught sight of Sanji halfway across the main deck. The moonlight provided enough illumination for Zoro to see Sanji clearly. Zoro sucked in a sharp, horrified breath. “Sanji…”
His name on Zoro’s lips meant that he looked worse than he’d thought. Zoro said it so rarely that Sanji sometimes forgot that he knew it. “I’m fine, marimo,” he deflected before Zoro could say anything else. That didn’t stop him.
“Fine? You’re fine?” Zoro crossed the deck to Sanji in five quick steps, sheathing his two katanas on the way. His eye widened further when he reached Sanji. “Holy fuck. You need Chopper, now.”
“No. I only need a shower.” Sanji knocked his knuckles against his chest. It caused ash to float from him. “Exoskeleton, remember? Can’t get hurt?” It was a lie. Having molten metal poured on him had hurt like hell, but he didn’t hurt now.
Zoro’s hands reached out, flitting up and down like a nervous butterfly wanting to land but not knowing where. Sanji noticed that Zoro’s face had a sickly color to it. “You’re not going to vomit on me, are you, shit swordsman?”
“No.” Zoro didn’t sound too sure. “You look– you’re–”
Sanji cut him off. “I told you, I’m fine. Go back to your training.” He continued toward the back of the ship. Zoro was on his heels. He sighed in annoyance. “Zoro–”
“No,” Zoro cut him off this time. “I’m not leaving you alone.”
“Fine.” Sanji wasn’t going to argue with him. He smelled and his skin was starting to itch. He went up the stairs, around the outside of the galley, to the back of the ship. He used the access hatch to climb to the library and then into the bathroom on the uppermost level.
The bathroom on the Sunny was divided into two parts, with a wall separating them. The hatch opened into an outer area where their towels, toilet paper, and cleaning supplies were kept. A private water closet was on this side of the wall. Through the doorway was the main bath. A bench ran along one side to put their belongings, with a shower at one end of it. A large, onsen-style bathtub that could fit the entire crew filled a majority of the rest of the curved room. Vents and a mullioned window allowed the heat to escape. Lights hung on the walls, casting a cheery yellow-orange glow to the room. A bubble pattern tiled the floor.
Zoro wasn’t kidding when he said he wasn’t leaving Sanji alone. He followed Sanji right into the bathroom, shutting the door behind them. Sanji sighed again in irritation, set his towel down and the washrag by the shower. He dropped the sheet onto the bench. He kept his back to Zoro and began peeling off his ruined suit. He heard Zoro set his katanas on the bench and him shucking his boots. “You’d better not be getting naked.”
“Shut up.” The worry in Zoro’s tone was clear. He moved right behind Sanji. Sanji could feel his hands hovering over him again. “Sanji, your back, by your shoulders. I can see right into you.”
“Hn.” Sanji’s clothing hit the floor, sending up a poof of ash. “It’ll heal.” He knew Reiju’s bullet-hole had healed in a short amount of time.
Sanji stepped over to the shower and turned it on. Hot water cascaded onto his blackened skin. He winced slightly as the water ran into his open wounds. He brought his hands up to run over his charcoal head, caused by his hair burning away, and he could feel his skull. Lovely. He watched as black water swirled toward the drain. The shower sounded funny in his curled ears.
He reached for the soap, but a bigger hand reaching past him beat him to it. His irritation returned. “What the hell are you doing, idiot?”
“Don’t. Just… don’t.” Zoro’s voice was thick and painful, as if he were the one who’d gotten injured. Sanji was surprised. It wasn’t as if Zoro hadn’t seen him hurt in the past. He’d never acted like this then.
“What’s got into you?” Sanji asked, as Zoro reached past him again to grab the washrag. His back remained to Zoro. He really didn’t want to deal with a weirdly emotional marimo.
Zoro barked a sharp, distressed laugh. “What’s got into me? Oh, I don’t know. It could be that you came back to the ship looking like a charcoal briquette. Or that your ears appear to have melted. Or the fact that you have no hair and I can see your skull.”
“I told you, I’m fine. A little dinged up, but I’ll heal.”
Zoro stepped around Sanji into the shower spray. He had taken off his clothes. A short towel was wrapped around his waist. His bulk blocked the water from hitting Sanji. His black eye had a wild edge to it. “You are not fine. Now let me take care of you before I do something stupid, like cry.”
Sanji’s heart stopped for a beat. He’d never seen Zoro this upset. They were friends, good friends, beneath all their fighting, but this went beyond that. Sanji was reminded of himself after Kuma had nearly taken Zoro from them. Sanji had buried those feelings deep, once Zoro had recovered. They weren’t like that.
“Alright,” Sanji acquiesced quietly.
Zoro nodded once, swallowed tightly, and began lathering the washrag. His disquieted gaze roved over Sanji’s skin. He sucked in another sharp breath when he saw the state of Sanji’s cock. Sanji lifted his hand and rested it against Zoro’s bare chest. He could feel Zoro’s heart beating unsteadily beneath his palm. “It’s okay, Zoro. It’s not like it gets any use anyway.”
That brought a startled laugh to Zoro’s lips. He brought a hand up and pressed his soapy fingers against his eyes. Sanji saw a tear escape to run down Zoro’s cheek. Then, Zoro started cursing as the soap began to sting his working eye. Sanji chuckled as Zoro turned toward the still-running shower to rinse the soap away. “Dumbass.”
“Idiot. Shut up.” Zoro faced the shower spray, away from Sanji, for longer than it would take to rinse the soap from his eye. The tenseness of his broad shoulders stood out vividly and Sanji could see them shaking slightly. It made him want to do something stupid, like hug Zoro.
“You’re hogging the water, you know,” Sanji said.
Zoro grunted, and after brushing his wrist across his face, he stepped aside. The hot water hit Sanji’s still blackened skin, turning it dark again as it swirled down the drain. The itch was getting worse. Sanji really wanted to get clean. “Could I have the soap and rag now?”
“No.” Zoro cleared the roughness from his throat. He re-soaped the rag with determination tilting his chin. Then he faltered, seeming not to know where to start. Sanji took pity on him and offered his right arm. Zoro wasn’t going to let him wash himself, Sanji knew that for a fact now. He may as well give over to it.
The blackened skin was caused by melted clothing with pieces of solidified silver-tinted metal embedded within. Beneath it, Sanji’s skin had remained its usual pale tone, but had undulating waves and deeper lines tracked into it. Zoro ran the soapy rag over Sanji’s upper body gently, front and back, washing him clean. The shower spray, which normally would have been shut off, was still running, rinsing the debris away.
It felt strange for someone else to be washing him. Good, too. And intimate. If Sanji had a working part at the moment, it might be showing interest. He felt the tingle of goosebumps from the inside, although they currently couldn’t appear.
Zoro was not looking at him like a lover, though. Zoro’s expression was one of crumpled dismay and Sanji could see the sheen of unshed tears in his eyes. This was hurting Zoro, which in turn was hurting Sanji in a different way. No one should feel distressed over him. “Hey, I’m really all right,” he told Zoro softly, as if he were speaking to a wounded beast. “Not exactly my usual attractive self at the moment, but what can you do?”
Zoro made a sound between a laugh and a cry. “Who said you were attractive?”
“I’ll have you know hundreds of women throw themselves at me at every port.”
“Tch. You’re the one doing the throwing like a perverted idiot. How’s that working out for you?”
Sanji saw Zoro rub the back of his wrist over his eyes again and tried to keep the conversation light. “A grand total of one, and I paid for it.”
This elicited a chuckle. “Poor woman.”
Sanji reflexively got offended and kicked Zoro in the shin. It caused the blackened mess on his foot to fling disgustingly against the bench. “At least I’ve gotten laid, you ape.”
Zoro rinsed the blackened rag and added more soap to it. “Who said I haven’t had sex?”
Sanji tilted his neck up as Zoro began washing away the grime and metal flakes. “You don’t even seem to like women. Why would you sleep with one?”
Zoro gave him a look like he was stupid. It took Sanji a second to catch on. His eyes widened. “Oh. That… makes a lot of sense, actually,” Sanji said, remembering a handful of times he’d spotted Zoro chatting with some guy at a tavern. He should’ve known. Zoro didn’t like talking if he could avoid it. “It’s not a secret, is it?”
“No.” Zoro carefully began washing Sanji’s cheeks. “But unlike you, I don’t feel the need to announce my attraction to the world.”
Sanji tried to imagine Zoro fawning over the men they met and shuddered. “That would be disturbing.”
Zoro arched his brow. “And what you do isn’t?”
“Point, which I am ignoring.” Sanji closed his eyes as Zoro drew the rag in small, soapy circles over his face. It felt good to get rid of the itch of burnt hair and solidified metal on his skin. He still hadn’t looked in a mirror. He was probably repulsive. Not that the ladies were flocking to him, as they’d just discussed. The one thing he’d liked about himself was his appearance, though he’d been uncomfortable in his body because of the genetic modifications. Now he didn’t even have that.
As if reading Sanji’s mind, Zoro asked quietly, “Your skin kind of looks like wavy fish scales and carved line tattoos. Why is that?”
“My exoskeleton is somewhat like metal,” Sanji said, as Zoro carefully washed his scalp, moving around him. “Different from your katana metal, but enough similarities to make the comparison. It’s strong enough to stop regular bullets and break swords. It apparently has a melting point, though.”
A faint, choked-off sob came from behind him. It made Sanji’s heart twist. The urge to hug Zoro returned. They didn’t hug. “Zoro, I’m okay,” he repeated instead, trying to reassure the other man.
“Why aren’t you bleeding?” Zoro said in a raw tone. “There’s a hand-sized hole on the back of your head and you’re not bleeding.”
Sanji had already figured that one out. “My skin is likely fused to my skull, creating a seal. If you scrub too hard, it’ll probably come loose. Probably should leave it until we have bandages.”
It was another wrong thing to say. Zoro made this stifled sound of anguish that physically hurt Sanji. Sanji turned around, and what they did or didn’t do be damned. Zoro was biting his fist, his eyes scrunched shut. Sanji drew his arms around Zoro’s broad shoulders and embraced him tightly. “I’m okay, dumbass. I really am.”
Zoro wrapped his arms around Sanji’s waist and tucked his face against Sanji’s somewhat soapy neck. Sanji could feel him trembling, heard the muffled sound of tears beneath the steady spray of the shower. Sanji remembered hiding away to fall apart after Kuma had hurt Zoro so badly and gave Zoro the grace to do the same. He otherwise didn’t know what to do, besides hold on and murmur reassurances. “It’ll heal. I promise. I’m going to be ugly until my hair grows back, but I won’t have a hole in my head for long.”
“You’re not ugly.” Zoro lifted his head. He had soap on his nose and tear tracks on his cheeks. “You are the most beautiful man I have ever seen.”
Sanji’s breath caught and he felt his face heat. It was gratifying and mortifying to know that his exoskeleton didn’t prevent him from blushing. “You don’t mean that,” he said, deflecting. “That’s the breakdown talking.”
“You fucking idiot,” Zoro said, and kissed him.
Sanji was beyond shocked. Zoro’s warm, chapped lips pressed firmly against his own. It wasn’t a deep kiss, or a long one, but it was real. A bubble of incredulous laughter mixed with a feeling of nervousness as well as a zing of fire. Zoro was kissing him, and Sanji… did not dislike it.
He’d never once thought about kissing Zoro, even with the Kuma-thing. Zoro was male and Sanji liked breasts. But feeling Zoro’s mouth against his didn’t feel wrong. There was a tingle low in his belly.
Zoro drew back. His damp eyes were wary now. He still had soap on the tip of his nose. He abruptly let go of Sanji, crouched down, and began washing Sanji’s feet.
Tension coiled in the steamy bathroom. Sanji stared at Zoro’s downturned head. Sanji wasn’t stupid, but he’d certainly been oblivious. Not only did Zoro like guys, but apparently he liked Sanji in a more-than-friends kind of way. He wondered for how long. He wondered what he would have done if he’d known it.
Sanji didn’t have to think hard about the second one. He would’ve ignored it. He might’ve been flattered, but again, Zoro was a guy. But after Whole Cake Island, after Wano, Sanji wasn’t the same person he’d been, both literally and emotionally. His body was different now. His emotions had gone through the wringer and he was still struggling with his self-worth.
Zoro thought he was worth kissing. Worth exposing himself to Sanji. And Sanji definitely didn’t dislike it. Sanji reached out his fingers to brush over Zoro’s soft green hair. Zoro stilled in his washing of Sanji’s calf, then glanced up, wariness still evident on his features. The soap was still on his nose. A corner of Sanji’s mouth curved and he swiped it away with his thumb. “Damned marimo.”
Zoro took it as it was meant and a smile broke over his face. He didn’t cheer or try to kiss Sanji again. He didn’t say anything. He just went back to washing the melted clothing and solidified metal from Sanji’s skin.
Sanji tilted his head back and rinsed the soap from his scalp. The still hot water from the shower beat against his shoulders. He was finally starting to feel clean. Zoro hadn’t touched his ears and Sanji swiped his fingers through the soap still clinging to the front of his neck before working them gently against his folded ears. The right ear was easier to press back into general shape than the balled left one. He did the best he could and would have to finish using a mirror. At least it felt like the burnt hair and solidified metal was gone.
Zoro cleared his throat and Sanji looked down. His legs were clean, the last of the melted clothing having been washed away. Zoro gestured with the nearly black washrag at Sanji’s genitals. “You want to take care of this?”
Sanji felt the rush of awkwardness heat his cheeks. “Probably for the best.”
Zoro rose from his crouch, handed Sanji the soap and rag, and stepped away. He looked studiously up at the ceiling. It made Sanji want to laugh.
Sanji soaped up the rag, deposited the soap on the bench, and very, very gently began washing the surface of his poor cock. He didn’t know the strength of the skin there. He didn’t want it to accidentally fall off. He got rid of the blackened crust that had formed and compressed the length. He ran the rag over his balls and ass, cleaning both, before dropping the rag onto the bench. He worked his fingers over his cock, stretching and pressing it back into its regular shape. He didn’t have much to begin with, but it was certainly better than it had looked all squashed.
“That’s amazing.”
Sanji’s hand stilled on himself. “Are you looking at my cock?”
“No.” There was a pause. “It was an accident.”
A laugh that was part-amusement, part-surprised-interest escaped from Sanji. He looked over at Zoro. “Pervert.”
Zoro folded his arms defensively. “It wasn’t on purpose.”
“Uh-huh.” Sanji couldn’t believe he was joking about this. Zoro had been looking at his cock. They’d seen each other naked before – they lived in tight quarters and Luffy liked to steal towels – but that was before Zoro had kissed him.
“Tch.” Zoro tilted his chin mulishly. “Just tell me how you made it go from this big–” Zoro held his fingers a little more than an inch apart, “–to, I guess, your normal size.”
“Shut up. It’s not like you have a log in your pants.” Sanji was sensitive about his size. “And I didn’t get any complaints.” Of course, the only person he’d had sex with was a brothel worker and she was paid not to complain.
“I wasn’t making fun, cook,” Zoro said. “It looks good to me.”
Sanji’s face went up in flames again. Zoro would know, because he was into guys. Did that mean Zoro was hitting on him? Did he want Zoro hitting on him? A hot feeling spread through his belly at the thought. He’d take it as a yes. He needed to change the subject before he learned whether his cock was still functioning properly by rising to attention. “Can we stop talking about my cock now?”
“Yes, please,” Zoro said, and Sanji could see pink on his cheeks, too.
“Why don’t you run down and get some bandages? I’ll get the rest of this crud off my head.”
That put a damper on any sort of arousal. Zoro’s expression became downturned and he nodded in agreement. “Be right back.”
After he left, Sanji rinsed the rag, soaped it up again, and ran it one more time over his entire body. When he washed off the soap in the shower spray, he saw that it ran clean. Satisfied, he carefully washed the hole in his scalp. He felt the sharp sting of skin pulling away from the wound. The rag came away bloody.
He waited with the shower on, cleansing the wound, until Zoro returned. It wouldn’t do him any good to have blood running down his skin after he’d just gotten clean. “Grab an extra towel,” he instructed when Zoro stepped through the door, a pile of bandages in his arms. Zoro set the bandages down on the bench where it was dry and ducked back out of the bathroom. He returned with two more towels. “I only needed one.”
“I need one, too.” Zoro dropped one on the bench, then approached Sanji. Sanji turned off the water, took the towel, and dried his face and head quickly. Then, he wadded the towel and pressed it against the back of his scalp. He took a seat on the edge of the bench, leaning forward to give Zoro access.
“Wrap me up,” Sanji told him.
Zoro fetched the bandages. Sanji lowered the towel and Zoro immediately placed a large piece of medical gauze against the open wound. He wrapped a long bandage around Sanji’s forehead and scalp to hold it in place. Sanji guessed that now that his skin wasn’t sticking to his skull, it would begin mending itself. Reiju was fine by the next day after getting shot.
Zoro also taped bandages on Sanji’s upper back, where the molten metal had melted through his skin. Sanji was suddenly feeling very tired. He accepted the second towel Zoro handed him and dried himself off. Zoro shed his modesty towel and ran the third bath towel over his damp body. He dragged on his trousers. Sanji’s clothing was in disgusting-looking heaps on the wet bathroom floor. He wrapped the bath towel around his waist. He could use a cigarette. “My lighter…”
“I got it.” Zoro didn’t hesitate to root through the blackened mess. He came up with Sanji’s lighter and tucked it in his own pocket. “Come on. Let’s get you to the infirmary.”
Sanji thought about protesting, but Chopper would have a fit if Sanji was anywhere else when he returned to the ship. The infirmary bed would be clean and comfortable.
Zoro grabbed his katanas and escorted him downstairs. Chopper’s infirmary had a back door outside the access hatch to the library and bathroom. The infirmary itself was wide enough to treat one patient. It had an adjustable bed, a place to hang bags of blood or fluids for IVs, medical storage and a desk for Chopper. Another door led into the galley. Sanji draped his towel on the back of Chopper’s swivel chair, lifted the fresh sheets, and climbed nakedly into the bed. He thought about having Zoro fetch a pair of boxers, but what did it matter? Chopper would want to check him out thoroughly anyway.
Zoro set his katanas on Chopper’s desk before he disappeared again. When he returned, he had Sanji's cigarettes, an ashtray, and a bottle of sake. He must’ve been in Sanji’s locker and gotten the fridge keys. He gave the first two items and lighter to Sanji before spinning Chopper’s chair around and taking a seat. The cork came out of the bottle of sake and Zoro took a long drink.
Sanji adjusted the bed into a sitting position and lit up. The soothing rush of nicotine hit his system. He closed his eyes and savored it. Zoro used his foot to prop open the back door to the infirmary, to allow the smoke to escape the room. Lethargy weighed Sanji’s body. “Make sure you send the Mini Merry back to shore,” Sanji said around an unbidden yawn.
“I will.” Zoro took another swig of sake. “How long do you think it’ll take you to heal?”
“Until tomorrow sometime. Maybe the next day.” Sanji inhaled another drag on his cigarette and let the smoke escape in swirls from between his lips.
“Skin, too?”
“I’ll have to smooth it out.” He frowned. “Hopefully, it’ll smooth out. I was crushed by Queen and was able to pound my body back into shape. This shouldn’t be any different.”
“What do you mean, you were crushed by Queen?” Zoro said.
“Just that,” Sanji replied. “Queen turned into a boa constrictor and squeezed me until my body went in different directions.” He drew a zigzag with his finger. “I think he even broke my neck. Chopper thought I was a zombie. Good thing my modifications choose that time to start working, or I’d be a dead man.”
Zoro went pale, bent forward suddenly, and put his head between his knees. He blew out an unsteady breath. Sanji was concerned. “You okay, marimo?”
“Just realizing that I should’ve lost you twice,” Zoro said, head still down. “Feeling a bit woozy.”
Sanji should feel bad for worrying Zoro, but he mostly felt a warm sense of wonder settle in his chest. “You really like me.”
“Of course I like you, idiot,” Zoro told the ground. “There’s a possibility I might color this floor with how much I like you.”
Sanji knew it before, with the kiss, but that couldn’t be excused as an in-the-moment thing any longer. Sanji still liked it. He wanted it. He didn’t know what it entailed, but he was willing to find out. His fingers bunched in the sheet around his waist and he quelled the nerves taking flight in his stomach before telling Zoro, “I like you, too.”
Zoro peered up at him, looking less ashen but still not great. His smile was crooked. “I would kiss you again, but I still might vomit.”
Sanji released a surprised laugh. “I’ll pass, thanks.”
“Good idea.” Zoro lowered his head again between his knees, breathing slowly. “Try not to get yourself killed anymore, will you? I’ve had enough with this emotional upheaval garbage.”
“So romantic,” Sanji snorted. “It’s a wonder you managed to get laid.”
“At least I didn’t have to pay for it.”
Sanji’s foot shot out and he kicked Zoro in the down-turned head. “Watch it, moss-for-brains.”
“Ow. Don’t kick me, stupid cook.” Zoro rubbed his head, straightening up with a scowl.
“Don’t say shitty things, then.”
Sanji thought Zoro was going to come up with a dumb retort, but instead he shot Sanji a wicked grin. “Won’t be true for long, though.”
Heat infused Sanji’s face and he learned that yes, his cock was working just fine. He purposely thought of Carne in his pink and purple underwear to dispel his burgeoning hard-on. “Shut up,” he muttered.
Zoro only laughed.
Sanji awoke to find sunlight streaming through the porthole in the infirmary back door and Zoro snoring away in the swivel chair. Chopper obviously hadn’t returned yet, and Sanji needed to piss. He extracted himself from the twisted sheet around his legs and used the bath towel from last night to cover his waist.
He pissed off the back of the Sunny, because he could, and then made his way past the infirmary on the outside of the ship to the steps. He wanted clothes, even if it was only a pair of boxers or maybe he’d throw on a pair of shorts. The sun was warm already and it was still morning. Fluffy clouds floated overhead. He padded barefoot through the grass on the main deck, heading for the men’s quarters. He passed Usopp hanging from the foremast rigging, repairing the lower part of the sail. “Morning, Usopp.”
“Morning, Sanji,” Usopp said before glancing up from his work. He took one look at Sanji, screamed, and promptly passed out. He hung upside down from the rigging.
Sanji sighed as pounding feet thundered from various directions. Zoro burst from the galley, katanas drawn. Franky barreled out of the men’s quarters. Jinbe leapt down from the main mast. Franky and Jinbe both skid to a halt when they saw Sanji. Zoro continued to look for trouble.
“Whoa, Sanji-bro. You don’t look super,” Franky said. “You should be in the infirmary.”
“I express my concerns, as well,” Jinbe said.
Zoro jogged down the steps to join them, sheathing his katanas. He glanced at Usopp, passed out in the rigging, before stopping at Sanji’s side. “What’s going on? Why’d he scream?”
“Why do you think, idiot marimo?” Sanji motioned at himself. “I’m sure I look like a monster.”
Zoro tilted his head, studying Sanji in the morning sunlight. “Still look beautiful to me.”
Sanji’s cheeks heated in self-conscious embarrassment. It was Jinbe who spoke up, though. “You do have an intriguing pattern on your skin, Sanji. It appears like intricate tattooing.”
“It’s not,” Sanji brushed them aside. “I’m going to get dressed.”
He heard conversation between Jinbe, Franky, and Zoro strike up behind him. Sanji was quick to put a door between themselves and him. He didn’t want to hear them discussing him.
The men’s quarters were large enough to fit eight men plus the occasional guests. A sunken sofa and table took up roughly half the room. Lockers lined one wall for storage. Hanging double bunks filled the remaining space. Clothing, books, papers, and random other flotsam littered the floor. Their most current wanted posters hung on the wall. Two doors led to the main deck, and a ladder led to the storage room. A sink with a mirror over it stood beside the entrance to the men’s quarters. A caddy big enough to hold eight toothbrushes hung on the wall beside it. The toilets were hidden beneath the stairwell that led to the second level and the women’s quarters.
Sanji couldn’t avoid the mirror any longer, as he needed to wash his hands and brush his teeth. He couldn’t look immediately, though. He kept his head downturned as he washed up. He wiped his hands dry with a towel and braced himself on either side of the sink. He took a deep breath, held it for a moment, then exhaled swiftly as he lifted his chin. He met his own appalled eyes in the mirror.
It was worse than he’d imagined. The white bandage offset the fact he only had a few tufts of hair. One of his ears looked like a pointy blob. His face was fully exposed. The skin on his forehead and around his cheeks looked warped compared to the rest of his face, and an uneven wavy pattern delineated where he hadn’t been burned by the molten metal. The mottling continued down his neck and onto his chest and shoulders. Deeper lines ran through the warped pattern where streaks of molten metal had seared into his skin. His clothing had given him some protection, causing the undulating fish scale-type pattern on his arms, belly, and legs. More deep lines slithered and curled down his arms.
He turned to look at his back, craning his neck to see. His upper shoulders and neck had been hit full-on by the molten metal, as did the crown of his head. A bandage covered part of his upper shoulders, but he could still see that the skin appeared shallow, almost as if it had been scooped out. It led to random drip patterns down his back and more deeper, cut lines decorating his skin. He couldn’t see the back of his skull due to the bandage.
Sanji stepped away from the mirror and closed his stinging eyes. How could Zoro think he was beautiful? Sanji knew the shithead wasn’t lying, either. Zoro didn’t tell lies. He couldn’t even lie about not looking at Sanji’s cock in the shower.
Sanji walked over to the sunken sofa and put his foot on the back of the couch. He bent forward and began to massage his foot with hard fingers. He smacked his skin with his fist, trying to get it to smooth out, to go back to normal.
Zoro came into the men’s quarters, shutting the door behind him. “Mini Merry’s heading to shore.” He walked over to Sanji. He was still only dressed in his trousers. “What are you doing?”
“Trying to fix myself.” Sanji beat on his foot, his vision blurry. “I can’t look like this. I can’t.”
“Hey.” Zoro caught Sanji’s hands, stopping them. Sanji glared at Zoro more out of despair than anger. “Tell me how I can help.”
Sanji felt a hitch in his throat. He was trying desperately not to cry. “What happened to my being beautiful?”
“You are.” Zoro tugged Sanji toward him. Sanji lowered his foot to the ground and let himself be pulled closer. Zoro traced one of the lines that ran from Sanji’s cheek, down his jaw, and onto his neck. “Scars are beautiful. It means you’re still here.”
Crap, that had done it. Sanji felt the tears escape his eyes. He blinked rapidly, trying to will them away. Zoro tilted Sanji’s chin up with his finger, bent his head, and pressed three soft kisses down the carved mark. Sanji’s chest tightened with emotion. He never knew Zoro could be like this. Soft, tender. He’d always treated Sanji like a straightforward brute. Until last night. Until now.
Zoro lifted his head and met Sanji’s damp gaze. “Let’s fix what you want fixed.”
Sanji swiped his hand over his face, wiping away the tears. He hated that he’d broken down. He didn’t like people seeing him weak. “You need to use hard fingers, like you’re trying to bruise me. It won’t hurt. You should see my skin smooth out.” He hoped.
“Okay.” Zoro urged him to sit on the back of the sofa. Zoro set his katanas on the table, then knelt on his heels in front of Sanji. He prompted Sanji to put his foot on Zoro’s lap. “Tell me if it hurts.”
“I just told you it wouldn’t, dumbass,” Sanji said, wiping the wetness from his face again. He crossed his arms over his chest self-consciously.
“Humor me.” Zoro began kneading Sanji’s foot with strong hands. Sanji had strength in his hands, too, from kneading dough and doing acrobatics, but Zoro’s strength came from clutching swords and obscene amounts of weight for hours at a time. His thumbs dug into Sanji’s skin with bruising pressure. Sanji could see the top of his foot, where the molten metal had dripped onto it, smooth out.
Zoro worked his way up Sanji’s calf, over his knee, to his thigh. Sanji’s skin stopped looking like fish scales and became normal in appearance again. Relief could barely describe what Sanji felt. Zoro pushed Sanji’s towel up as he worked, though not lewdly. He worked up to Sanji’s hip before prompting Sanji into switching legs.
Quietness surrounded them. Sanji watched Zoro with his heart beating fast. Zoro’s touch wasn’t intimate. But it was solid, sure, and strong. Zoro’s fingers smoothed away the emotional pain that Sanji had felt upon seeing himself. Sanji felt the urge to thank him, though he knew Zoro would brush it off. Zoro didn’t do things for appreciation or praise. He did them because they needed to be done. He did them because he cared.
Zoro stood when he finished the second leg and began working on Sanji’s torso, above the towel. The feeling of goosebumps appeared wherever his fingers smoothed the skin. Sanji liked having Zoro’s hands on him. He’d never thought about a guy touching him, what it might be like. Though this wasn’t for pleasure, it told Sanji he wouldn’t mind it at all, if it was Zoro.
Zoro reached Sanji’s neck and Sanji stilled Zoro’s hands. “Leave one.”
A corner of Zoro’s mouth curved and he bowed his head in acquiescence. His fingers moved over Sanji’s neck, avoiding the line that he’d kissed. He smoothed away the marks on Sanji’s neck and most of his face. He moved on to Sanji’s arms, fixing one after the other, before prompting him to turn around so that Zoro could get his back.
It was a long process, and except for the two words Sanji had spoken, they were both quiet the entire time. Outside, hammering could be heard as repairs continued. Sanji felt the most relaxed he’d been since before Zou and his world came tumbling in on him. He didn’t need to be anything at the moment. Zoro was soothing away the parts of his damaged self.
Sanji felt a soft touch to the nape of his neck. “I’ll wait to do the rest once your head and upper back have healed,” Zoro said.
Sanji nodded and pushed his hands off the back of the couch, which he’d been leaning on. He walked over to the mirror. When he saw himself, he saw a familiar, smooth face from the forehead bandages down. Zoro had left a single deep line that ran at an angle from near the top of his left ear, down the side of his cheek, over his jawline, and down his neck. It ended in a swirled pool between his collarbone and his neck. “Beautiful,” he murmured to himself.
He took the time to fix his ears. And though he had a bandage wrapped around his head and the skin was still marred on his skull, he felt much better about himself again. He saw Zoro approach him from behind and he looked gratefully at Zoro in the reflection in the mirror. “Thank you.”
Zoro shrugged. “It’s what you wanted.”
Sanji had been right, Zoro brushed it off. “I’m going to get dressed and see if I can whip up some breakfast before Chopper gets here.”
“I’ll grab a real shower then.” Zoro fetched his katanas from the table, because the boogeyman might jump out of the bath if he didn’t have them. Sanji grinned in self-amusement at the thought.
Zoro went off, snagging his toothbrush and toothpaste on the way past, and Sanji went to his locker. He drew on a pair of boxers, a pair of shorts, and a short-sleeved, button-down shirt. He slipped his feet into sandals.
When he went onto the deck, Usopp was no longer hanging unconscious from the rigging. He was still on the deck, repairing a smaller sail that was spread across the grass. He glanced up, saw Sanji, and started to babble. “Sorry, Sanji. I didn’t mean to scream like you were a fish-man monster rising up from the depths of the ocean to gobble my soul. You’re looking much better now. Though you seem to be missing your hair. Not that it’s a bad look. I’ve read bald is in. It also shows off your eyes. And your wonky eyebrows. But a good wonky. A unique wonky. Sanji-wonky.”
“Usopp,” Sanji interrupted. “It’s fine. I’m making breakfast. Do you want anything in particular?”
Usopp hesitated. “Chocolate waffles?”
“With whipped cream and strawberries?” Sanji rubbed his hands together. “Chopper will be pleased with that choice. I’ll get right on it.” He continued toward the galley, Usopp’s words of thanks following him.
Sanji made breakfast and was putting it on the table when he heard the distinct sound of the Mini Merry II coming back to the ship. Good timing. He cleaned up the kitchen and ate a quick bite himself before the thundering of hooves and feet came charging up the stairs outside the galley. Luffy and Chopper burst through the door, followed more calmly by Robin, Nami, and Brook.
“Sanji! Jinbe said you were hurt!” Luffy yelled as he entered, but then he caught sight of the food on the table. “Ooh! Breakfast!” He slung himself into his seat and began piling food into his plate.
“Sanji! Why are you up? Why are you cooking breakfast? You’re injured!” Chopper fretted, dancing around Sanji. “Somebody call a doctor!”
“You’re the doctor, ha-ha-ha!” Luffy laughed around a mouthful of food.
“Sanji-san, are you all right?” Robin asked, coming over to touch his arm, concern lacing her voice.
“Robin-chan is sweet for being concerned for me,” Sanji sang, going heart-eyed at her touch.
Nami came over as well. Worry was written on her face. “You’re hair…”
“It’ll grow back,” Sanji reassured. He still hoped he was right. “Will you call the others to breakfast, lovely Nami-san?” Nami nodded.
“As you appear to be under your own power, I will merely say that it fills my heart with joy that you’re not grievously injured, Sanji-san,” Brook said. “And I don’t even have a heart. Because I’m a skeleton. Yo-ho-ho!”
Chopper started tugging at Sanji’s arm. “Into the infirmary with you! I can’t believe no one came to get me!”
“Zoro took care of me,” Sanji told Chopper. He caught Robin and Nami exchanging pleased looks and wondered what that was about.
“It looks like he did a good job, but I need to check you over anyway.” Chopper led Sanji into the infirmary, closing the door behind them.
Sanji was subjected to poking and prodding, as well as gasping and bemoaning when Chopper saw the hole in his scalp. Sanji had to regale him with the story about what had happened in detail. He left out the part about Zoro smoothing his skin. Chopper asked if Sanji wanted the deep line on his face and neck gone and Sanji shook his head. “I want to keep it. It means that I’m still here.”
Chopper released Sanji on the condition that if he felt dizzy he needed to find Chopper right away. Sanji agreed, though he knew it wouldn’t become necessary. They joined the others in the galley, who were seated around the breakfast table, eating the meal that Sanji had prepared. Jinbe and Franky didn’t comment on Sanji’s mostly fixed appearance, for which he was grateful. Nami asked what happened and Sanji had to tell the story again, though it was an abbreviated, less graphic version. He caught sight of Zoro’s fingers clenching around his fork and knife while he spoke. He wanted to reach out, but with the others around he felt too self-conscious to dare.
As Sanji had predicted, his wounds fully healed by the next day. Zoro joined him in the infirmary, and when Chopper left, he spent the time to smooth the rest of Sanji’s skin save for the single line on his face. Sanji wanted to kiss him but couldn’t work up the courage to do so. Zoro was still a male and Sanji’s feelings were too new.
Zoro must’ve known, because he didn’t press or make a big deal about it. A touch here and there, a surprised kiss while they were in the middle of fighting away from the others, showed Sanji that Zoro still liked him. That Sanji’s injuries hadn’t been the only cause for Zoro’s actions.
Sanji’s hair started growing back three weeks after leaving Lawless Peak. Blond, thankfully. It sprouted in tiny spikes that felt prickly to his palm. Luffy rubbed his head whenever he could.
Sweetfish Isles grew from the Grand Line like surfacing bumps on a sea snake. Each of the little islands supported fishing villages and friendly locals. Date palms, hibiscus, and other flora grew between the small houses on the islands. Seabirds and marine life were teeming. They were still in a summer climate. The weather was warm. The ocean breeze cooled the temperature and tickled the palm leaves. Star had begun appearing in the evening sky.
Sanji pulled at the cuffs of his sleeves, adjusted the knot in his tie, and ran a nervous hand over his short hair. He fought the fear tickling his stomach. He wanted this. It. He still didn’t know what it was, but it was time to find out. He took a deep breath, marched across the deck, and said the words that would change his life. “Would you like to go on a date with me?”
Zoro’s smile lit up the night. “I’d be honored, beautiful.”
End
