He’d gotten separated from the others in the forest not long after they landed on Whole Cake Island. He’d come to Totto Land with Luffy, Nami, Brook, and Chopper, along with Carrot and Pedro. At first, he hadn’t planned to come. He’d been pissed that Sanji had gotten dragged into family bullshit when the crew needed him for Kaidou, and that flippant note hadn’t helped. Then he’d overheard the rest – Sanji might’ve been extorted; the Vinsmokes ranked among the worst kinds of people – and Luffy had put words to the worry already creeping under Zoro’s skin.
At the last second, Zoro had asked to go with Luffy instead of heading to Wano with the other group. Sanji had stepped up for Zoro once, against Kuma. Zoro needed to do the same for him. Luffy had agreed immediately, and they’d sailed for Totto Land.
Zoro tried the next door down the hall and found a large storage room. He wanted to find Sanji and leave, as soon as possible. This place turned sugar into a nightmare. They’d first landed on an island built entirely of chocolate. Zoro hated it. He also hated meeting Sanji’s intended, Pudding. Her syrupy praise for Sanji made Zoro’s teeth grind. Something about her rang false, and it made his skin itch to find Sanji and get him out.
Zoro moved down the checkered hall and stopped at the last door beside a stairwell. He shoved it open and leaned in – then his stomach dropped. He hadn’t found Sanji. He’d found Big Mom.
Big Mom sat on her throne in the center of a circular chamber, an enormous sundae rising behind her like a monument – layers dripping, crowned with fruit and striped wafer sticks. Pink and violet stripes ran floor to ceiling along the walls, broken by arches trimmed in frosting-like detail, while a grand staircase curved upward in the back. Her massive frame mirrored the room’s palette of pinks and creams, silk and polka dots stretched over broad shoulders and thick arms, wild hair spilling beneath her pirate hat. She grinned wide, square teeth bared, laughter booming loud enough to rattle the sweetness in the air, gold jewelry flashing as she dominated the confectionary throne room like its living centerpiece.
The one person they’d been trying to avoid was right in front of Zoro, and she’d spotted him the instant he’d opened the door. “And who are you coming to disturb me?” She snapped her fingers, and guards wearing pawn outfits swarmed the door with spears pointed.
Zoro’s options were to start a fight – which was the opposite of what he wanted – run and raise the alarm, or bullshit his way out of this.
“I, uh, came to thank you for the tea party invitation,” Zoro lied through his teeth. He sucked at lying – thought it was a waste of time – but he’d rather not go up against a Yonko when another one waited in the wings.
Big Mom bared her teeth in a wide smile and motioned him forward. “A proper guest. How delightful.”
Zoro stepped into the throne room. The pawns lowered their spears but kept their eyes on him. “It’s a big deal to get invited. I’ve never been to one before.”
“You’re in for a treat. There will be sweets and tea and cake galore. Just thinking about it makes me hungry.” She laughed. “And my darling Pudding is getting married.”
“Uh, yeah. I heard about that.” Zoro needed to get out of there before she recognized him. “Should be nice.”
Zoro started to step back toward the door – then stopped. An idea came to him. A very stupid one. Sanji and Nami said he excelled at being stupid, so he gave it a shot. “Who’s she marrying?”
“Prince Vinsmoke Sanji, the third son of Germa. Isn’t it marvelous?” She cackled. “I can’t wait to bring the Vinsmokes into the fold.”
“Huh. Weird. Sanji isn’t a Vinsmoke.”
Her smile vanished. She narrowed her eyes. “What did you say?”
“Sanji’s surname isn’t Vinsmoke. His dad’s name is Redleg Zeff.” He paused, then more stupid came. “And Sanji’s already married. I think you’re being played.”
Her jaw tightened. “And who is he married to?”
“Um… me.”
Conqueror’s haki pressed down on him. Zoro planted his feet and held his ground.
“You,” she said.
“Yeah. Me.”
“So you lied to me. Pretended to be a guest.” The pressure increased. “You came here under false pretenses.”
“I did. I came to stop the wedding,” Zoro said, keeping his posture straight. “It’s not legal. You’d make a fool of yourself.”
“A fool?” she roared. “What makes you think I won’t have you killed? Then it won’t matter whether the groom is married.”
“Sanji’s still not a Vinsmoke. You’re still being played,” Zoro said. “Other guests probably know it, too.”
Her haki receded. She leaned back in her throne and tapped the armrest. “That may be true. They think they can trick me?”
“So you’ll call off the wedding?”
“Oh, no. The wedding will proceed. I’ll let them think they’ve succeeded and then crush them.”
Shit. Zoro might have to fight after all. “Why not deal with them now?”
“I want wedding cake.”
Zoro thought fast. “How about you deal with the Vinsmokes now, and I’ll remarry Sanji so you still get your wedding cake?”
She studied him, then smiled slowly. “That works. As long as I get my cake.” She rose. “I’m going to meet with them for the engagement luncheon.” Her expression hardened. “I believe I can arrange for a surprise for those conniving snakes.”
Zoro turned toward the exit. “Enjoy the luncheon. See you at the wedding.”
“Not so fast,” she said. “You’ll attend the luncheon as well.”
Zoro swallowed a curse and shrugged. “Fine.” It was probably a better idea anyway. He could grab Sanji during the luncheon and run.
Big Mom stopped to speak with a servant as she left the throne room. Zoro followed her down several flights of stairs until she entered a large indoor chamber designed to resemble a courtyard. Tall windows lined the walls, framed by bright curtains. Cloud-patterned wallpaper covered the upper walls, and arranged plants, rose-covered arches, and small gazebos filled the space to imitate an outdoor garden. At the center stood a long dining table set for guests, with an oversized chair at the head built to accommodate the Emperor’s size.
A servant hurried in with a chair soon after they arrived and placed it at the table. Big Mom seated Zoro there and walked off, leaving him under the watch of two guards and the surrounding dishware. The table stood fully set for luncheon. Plates, glasses, and condiment containers shifted and blinked with subtle animation. It creeped him out. He couldn’t wait to leave this place.
He wondered how the others were doing. The trees in the forest had given him a clear path to the castle once he’d sliced a few of them into splinters. He didn’t know if they’d found Sanji already. Guess he’d find out when the luncheon started.
Big Mom returned with a tall man in a bright yellow coat and an oversized top hat. His long tongue hung out of his mouth as he walked, and he carried a staff shaped like a curled candy cane. He stood beside Big Mom as she took the giant seat at the head of the table. “My son, Prospero,” she gave a short introduction. “I have been informed the Vinsmokes have arrived.”
Prospero leered creepily at him. Zoro fought the urge to strike him down.
Servants began filing into the room, carrying dishes of food and beverages. They set them on the long table. Zoro gazed in horror when the food started clamoring for him to eat it.
The courtyard doors opened as the last servant disappeared through the servant’s entrance, and a butler announced, “His Royal Highness, King Vinsmoke Judge and sons Prince Vinsmoke Ichiji, Prince Vinsmoke Niji, Prince Vinsmoke Sanji, and Prince Vinsmoke Yonji.”
Five people entered the room. The first was a very tall man – human, but imposing – wearing a structured militaristic uniform. A thick mane of blond hair fell around his shoulders, and a sharp, pointed mustache framed his mouth.
Four younger men followed in formation, dressed in identical white shirts, black trousers, and red capes. Their faces were nearly identical, each with the same distinctive curling eyebrows. Only their hair truly set them apart – one red, one blue, one blond, and one green.
“Welcome, Germa!” Big Mom said with a wide, insincere smile. “Sorry about the wait. We had a small problem, but it’s handled.”
Zoro found Sanji, and something in him finally eased – until he saw his face. Red rimmed his eyes, the skin slightly swollen, as if he’d tried and failed to hide it. Zoro’s jaw tightened at once. Sanji’d been crying.
Sanji spotted him as the Vinsmokes took their seats and Judge exchanged pleasantries with Big Mom. Relief broke across Sanji’s face – clear and unguarded – for a single beat. Then he locked it down, smoothing his expression into practiced indifference.
The shift hit Zoro hard. He remembered arguing against coming to retrieve Sanji, remembered saying they had bigger priorities. Even if he’d changed his mind, he’d still said it. The memory sat heavy in his chest, and he didn’t like what it said about him.
Sanji took the seat to Zoro’s left. The other brothers lined the opposite side of the table, with Judge at the head across from Big Mom.
Zoro studied them one by one. None of the brothers acknowledged him. Judge barely spared him a glance, as if Zoro didn’t register as worth noting.
The brothers carried themselves with open arrogance, dismissive and certain of their own importance. Sanji could be abrasive, sharp-tongued, and difficult. That was different. These men projected calculation and contempt. The longer Zoro watched them, the more his hand twitched toward his swords.
Zoro tried to catch Sanji’s eye, but Sanji refused to turn his head. His shoulders sat tense, his jaw tight, even as he feigned indifference.
“Where is the bride to be?” Judge asked as food served itself onto their plates. “Not getting cold feet, is she?”
“She’ll come when I call her,” Big Mom said. “First, I have a few questions for the groom.”
Sanji lifted his eyes. Zoro saw his shoulders tighten more. Zoro shifted in his chair and set his feet, ready to flip the table, grab Sanji, and run if this went sideways.
Big Mom fixed her gaze on Sanji. “Who’s your father?”
Sanji went still. Judge laughed. “What kind of question is that?”
“Redleg Zeff,” Sanji said.
The name snapped every head toward him.
“You look like a Vinsmoke,” Big Mom pointed out.
“I’m not,” Sanji said definitively.
“That’s obviously a lie,” Judge said with an angry look at Sanji.
Sanji faced him without hesitation. “You declared me dead when I was eight. You held a funeral. When I escaped, you said I could leave only if I stopped being a Vinsmoke.”
Big Mom turned to Judge. “You tried to pass off a false son. And one who’s already married.”
Sanji glanced at Zoro. Zoro held his eyes.
One of the brothers leaned forward. “Who would marry a failure like you?”
“He’s my son, and he isn’t married,” Judge said, his gloved hands curling into fists.
“I am,” Sanji said.
Judge’s eyes narrowed. “To who?”
Sanji let out a short laugh. “You think I’d tell you? You already plan to kill Zeff if I don’t cooperate. The second you learn a name, you’ll target them, too.”
“More lies,” Judge said. “Whatever you’re trying to do, there will be consequences.”
“You’re right,” Big Mom said. “Prospero.”
“Kuh-kuh-kuh.” Prospero raised his hand. Thick purple syrup streamed from his fingers and poured over the Vinsmokes. It hardened around them, pinning them to their chairs.
“What is this?!” Judge shouted, straining against the hardened coating.
“I don’t tolerate lies,” Big Mom said, rising from her seat. “After the wedding, I’ll handle you.”
“What about our agreement?” Judge demanded. “If the wedding happens, our deal stands.”
“It’s no longer a Charlotte–Vinsmoke wedding,” Big Mom said.
She gestured toward the exit. The two guards stationed by the door moved at once, pulling it open. “Escort me,” she ordered.
Zoro rose without hesitation. Sanji stood a second later. They stepped away from the table as the trapped Vinsmokes shouted after them. The two guards fell in behind Big Mom as she moved for the threshold, and the doors swung wide to let them pass.
Zoro and Sanji followed Big Mom out into the corridor, the noise from the courtyard cut off as the doors shut.
The butler who’d introduced the Vinsmokes stood at attention in the hall. Big Mom addressed him. “See to it that these two return to Sanji’s suite, and apprise the tailor that another wedding suit is required for the nuptials.”
“For Miss Pudding’s new groom?” the butler asked.
“No. Pudding is no longer marrying.” Big Mom gestured to Zoro. “This one is taking her place. See to it that the necessary changes are made. I don’t want any delay in eating my cake.”
“Yes, ma’am,” the butler said. He motioned to Sanji and Zoro. “This way, gentlemen.”
Zoro stuck close to Sanji as they followed the butler. He didn’t want Sanji getting lost now that Zoro found him. The butler led them up another staircase and down a quieter corridor to Sanji's suite.
The suite was large and overly ornate. The room held a high canopy bed draped in pale fabric, a sitting area arranged around a low table, and a private bathing room behind a carved screen. Tall windows opened to a balcony, gauzy curtains stirring in the cross-breeze. The walls carried the same confection theme as the rest of the castle – framed artwork of elaborate desserts, pastel paneling, gold trim worked into sugar-like scrolls.
“The tailor will be with you shortly,” the butler intoned before stepping out and shutting the door.
Sanji crossed the room immediately and threw open the balcony doors. Afternoon air spilled inside, cooler and cleaner than the heavy sweetness of the interior. Zoro followed him out.
Sanji braced his hands on the balustrade and lit a cigarette. Zoro noticed the faint tremor in his fingers before the flame caught.
“I can’t believe you’re here, too,” Sanji said after a long drag. Smoke curled upward and thinned quickly in the bright afternoon air.
Zoro rested his forearms on the warm stone railing. The grounds below bustled faintly, servants going about their jobs, guests arriving, distant voices drifting up to them. “Well, I am,” he said. “Now we can go.”
Misery crossed Sanji’s face before he looked away. Sunlight caught the gold in his hair and the faint redness around his eyes. He leaned harder against the balustrade. “I can’t go back to the crew.”
Zoro straightened. “What the hell are you talking about?”
“I… kicked Luffy’s ass. I can’t be forgiven for that.”
“You, kick Luffy’s ass.” Zoro lifted a skeptical brow.
Sanji let out a hollow chuckle. Ash dropped onto the pale stone and scattered in the breeze. “He let me. Wouldn’t fight back.”
Zoro tried to piece together why a fight between them would have occurred. “Why did you even try?”
Sanji stared down at his hands. “To protect him. Nami. Zeff.”
That made sense. Luffy must’ve tried to get Sanji to leave and Mr. Self-Sacrificial refused. It reminded him of Robin, hurting herself for the sake of others. “Then apologize.”
“It’s not that simple.”
“Why not?”
Sanji dragged a hand through his hair, clenching at the strands. “I raised a hand to my captain.”
“Yeah, but you did it because you cared about him. About them.” Zoro paused, something tight pulling in his chest. “Unless you don’t want to come back.”
“Fuck yes, I want to come back,” Sanji snapped. “I didn’t want to leave in the first place.”
“Then it’s settled. We’ll find the others and go.”
“Still can’t.” Sanji held up his wrists. Gold cuffs gleamed in the afternoon light.
Zoro leaned closer. “What’s that?”
“Explosive cuffs. Judge had them put on. If I leave the island, they detonate.”
Fury flared through Zoro. If Big Mom killed Judge first, it would save him the trouble.
Sanji flicked the cigarette over the railing and watched it fall into the courtyard below. “She’s going to kill them.”
“Yeah.” Good.
“I don’t want that.” Sanji met his eyes. “I can’t have their deaths on me.”
Of course he couldn’t. Zoro huffed softly. “Tch. Stupid cook. You’re too kind for your own good.” He slapped the railing lightly. “We’ll find Luffy. We’ll figure out how to get those off you and get everyone out. Okay?”
Sanji exhaled, smoke curling between them, and his shoulders eased by a fraction. He nodded once. “Yeah.”
Leaves shivered in the garden below as the breeze picked up, carrying the metallic promise of rain. Clouds gathered low over the grounds, shadows stretching long across the stone. Sanji smoked the remainder of his cigarette down to the filter in silence. When he finally glanced at Zoro, his expression had shifted back toward something steadier. “I’m already married?”
Zoro scratched the back of his neck. “I figured it would get you out of this mess.”
“Funny how you cast yourself in the starring role.” Sanji’s mouth tilted in a faint smirk.
“Who else was I supposed to say?”
“Nami-san. Robin-chan. Any number of incredible women in the world.”
Zoro folded his arms. “You want me to drag them into this?”
“Hell no.” Sanji crushed the cigarette out against the railing, jaw tightening. “I’ve put enough people in danger already.”
“I still can’t believe you’re a prince.” Zoro leaned back against the stone, the breeze ruffling his hair. “Though it explains the fancy suits and the warehouse of soap.”
Sanji scoffed. “A filthy brute like you wouldn’t understand basic hygiene.”
“Seems pointless,” Zoro said. “You just get dirty again.”
Sanji rolled his eyes, but the stiffness in his shoulders had eased. “That’s why women don’t like you.”
Zoro shrugged. “Don’t like ‘em anyway.”
“Of course you don’t. You only care about your swords.” Sanji turned and leaned back against the railing beside him, close enough that their sleeves brushed. “Now tell me why there’s a tailor coming to measure you for a wedding suit.”
“I told Big Mom we’d renew our vows,” Zoro said. “She wants her wedding cake.”
“She can’t eat it anyway?”
“Guess not.”
A restrained knock sounded at the suite door before it swung inward without invitation. A tailor stepped through with a wheeled rack of suits, their hangers clicking faintly as they rolled over the threshold. A tape measure rested at his collarbone, his expression mild and assessing. He set the rack near the window, already reaching for a jacket.
Getting measured for a suit was a long, annoying task that Zoro didn’t want to repeat, ever. The fitting dragged on. The tailor circled Zoro, tugging at fabric, adjusting seams, taking measurements with brisk, unapologetic hands. Zoro stood through it with mounting irritation, jaw tight, arms lifting when told and dropping the second he was allowed.
When the tailor finally packed up and left, the door clicking shut behind him, Sanji turned to Zoro. “Take a nap,” he said. “I’ve got food to prepare for Luffy before we go tonight.”
Zoro didn’t need to be told twice. He crossed to the bed and dropped onto it without hesitation. The mattress dipped under his weight, rain beginning to patter against the glass. He shut his eye and settled into sleep.
Later that night, under the cover of darkness, Sanji and Zoro sneaked out of the castle in search of Luffy. The ground was damp from earlier rain, and when they came upon a battlefield both of them stopped and exchanged glances.
“Have faith in our captain,” Zoro said, striding across the field.
“I do,” Sanji said, catching up. A heavy basked hung from his arm. “Who else would’ve caused this carnage?”
Zoro smirked. “Teach them to send an army after Luffy.”
They moved carefully across the moonlit battlefield, stepping around bodies and broken weapons, scanning the fallen for any sign of Luffy. The air carried the metallic scent of blood beneath the damp smell of churned earth and recent rain. Mud clung to their boots.
A loud rumble rolled across the field, drawing both their attention. “I’d recognize Luffy’s stomach growling anywhere,” Sanji said, letting out a short breath that almost passed for a laugh as he quickened his pace.
They found Luffy propped against a toppled tree, bruised and dirt-streaked but conscious. He looked up when they approached and broke into a wide grin, one tooth missing. “Sanji! I knew you’d come.” His gaze shifted to Zoro. “Ne, Zoro, I'm glad you found him.”
Zoro tilted his head in acknowledgment.
“I’m sorry, Luffy,” Sanji said immediately, dropping to Luffy’s side. He set the basket in front of him. “I never should have gone against my captain. I don’t blame you if you don’t want me to return.”
Luffy grabbed the basket, flung it open, and dug into the food Sanji had cooked. “What do you want?”
Sanji hesitated, and he glanced up at Zoro. Zoro met his gaze steadily in return. He squared his shoulders, and told Luffy, “I want to come home.”
Luffy grinned around a mouthful of meat. “Great! We’ll go get Nami and the others and leave.”
“We got a problem, Luffy,” Zoro said, motioning for Sanji to explain.
“Big Mom’s likely going to kill the Vinsmokes,” Sanji said, settling on his heels, watching Luffy eat. “And as much as I hate them, I don’t want that to happen.”
“Of course you don’t,” Luffy said. “Because that’s who you are.”
Sanji appeared to finally understand this. “Yeah. Guess it is.”
“Tch. Stupid cook,” Zoro said.
Sanji shot him a glare, then addressed Luffy again. “We just have to figure out how to stop it from happening. Without us getting killed in the process.”
“Don’t forget about your wrists,” Zoro said.
“Hn?” Luffy questioned through stuffed cheeks.
Sanji exhaled heavily and held out his wrists, showing Luffy the two gold cuffs. “Explosive cuffs. Can’t leave with them on.”
Luffy’s face darkened. He set aside the food in his hand, then took Sanji’s wrists. Within seconds, both bracelets were off Sanji and flung far into the air. All three of them watched, waiting for the explosion. But the cuffs fell harmlessly to the ground, thudding into the wet earth.
Sanji’s eyes narrowed with anger. “They lied about the cuffs.”
“One less thing to worry about,” Zoro said, glad that they had been fake. The idea that Sanji’s hands had been threatened churned his gut. The fact that Sanji had been dragged into this mess at all made Zoro want to break something.
“Hey, Luffy!” They heard Chopper’s call. “Luffy, are you there?”
“That’s Chopper’s voice,” Luffy said.
“Luffy, can you hear me?” Chopper called.
“Chopper, where are you?” Luffy called back.
“I’m here! In the mirror!”
“Mirror?” Zoro said, frowning in confusion.
“Well, long story short, they’re all inside the mirror,” Luffy said.
It made as much sense as anything did when it came to the crew’s adventures. The three of them searched around. Luffy was the one to find it – a shard of mirror the size of his finger.
“Chopper, you guys okay?” Luffy asked.
“We’ve rescued everyone. We’ve even managed to get Brook and the poneglyph tracing,” Chopper said.
“Luffy, are you with Sanji? Or Zoro?” Nami’s voice came through the shard.
“Yeah, they’re both here.”
“Luffy, it’s good that you found Sanji,” Pedro’s voice came through. “But have you settled things yet?”
“Oh, I don’t know.” Luffy looked at Sanji. “Is the wedding still on?”
Sanji looked at Zoro, and Zoro rubbed the back of his neck. “Yeah, about that.”
Zoro could still hear Nami’s cackling as they made their way back toward the castle. The sound had followed them down the road and into the outer grounds, bright and merciless.
They had a plan now. The wedding would go on as scheduled, and while the ceremony drew every eye in the castle, they would move to free the Vinsmokes.
Nami had declared, between laughs, that she forgave Sanji the moment she heard he was marrying Zoro. Zoro wasn’t entirely sure what he’d been forgiven for, but he had no intention of asking.
Luffy had gone to join Nami and the others. Sanji and Zoro climbed back onto the balcony of the suite. The wedding was scheduled for mid-morning. They would regroup at the Sunny, docked beyond the forest, and leave before Big Mom realized the Vinsmokes were gone.
Sanji set the empty basket by the door and glanced around the room. His gaze landed on the single canopy bed. “I’m not sleeping on the floor.”
“Me, either.” Zoro smirked. “Besides, we’re already married.”
Sanji huffed. “Nami-san is never going to look at me the same after this.”
“I think you made that witch’s lifetime, actually.”
“Don’t call her that!” Sanji aimed a kick at his hip, which he easily avoided. “Go take a bath. I’m not sharing a bed with your stench.”
Zoro rolled his eye and disappeared into the bathroom. He washed quickly, scrubbing away sweat, dirt, and the lingering sugary scent that seemed baked into the castle itself. He didn’t bother with anything more than necessary.
When he came out, Sanji brushed past him without a word and took his turn. Zoro set his katanas within easy reach beside the bed, then slid under the soft sheets in his briefs. The mattress dipped comfortably beneath him. He closed his eye and let the day fade into the background.
He hovered on the edge of sleep by the time Sanji stepped back into the room, bare-chested and in boxers. The lights clicked off. The bed shifted as Sanji settled onto the other side. They’d shared before, and with the others in various configurations. This didn’t register as anything unusual.
Quiet settled around them. Moonlight filtered in through the gauzy curtains over the window. The mattress gave a soft creak when Sanji adjusted. Zoro drifted.
“Thanks for coming for me,” Sanji muttered into the dim.
Half-asleep, Zoro reached across the space between them and thumped his fist lightly against Sanji’s thigh. “Don’t mention it, cook.”
Sanji kicked Zoro’s calf in response.
Zoro elbowed him in the ribs.
Sanji kneed him in the thigh.
Zoro drove a knuckle into his bicep.
Sanji’s foot clipped Zoro’s jaw – and that was enough.
Zoro lunged. The bed jolted as they grappled, limbs tangling in sheets. They shoved and twisted, trading rough jabs and poorly aimed knees. Zoro caught a fistful of hair; Sanji retaliated with a sharp kick that nearly sent them both off the mattress. Low curses mixed with breathless laughter. The bedframe protested under the sudden chaos, wood knocking against the wall.
Sanji shifted his weight and flipped them. He pinned Zoro flat, thighs braced tight against his ribs. His hair hung loose around his face, chest rising and falling as he caught his breath. “You give?”
The answer died in Zoro’s throat.
They were close. Too close. Sanji’s hands braced near his shoulders, body heat pressing down through the thin fabric between them. Moonlight cut across Sanji’s face, catching on the curve of his mouth.
Heat surged through him, sharp and startling. His pulse hammered in his ears. Every nerve snapped awake at once.
Sanji’s expression changed. Awareness flickered. Color climbed into his face just as fast. He moved off Zoro at once and rolled onto his back.
Silence replaced the scuffle. The mattress creaked once as they resettled. Zoro lay staring at the ceiling, heart still hammering, painfully conscious of the space between them – and how little of it there was.
“Go to sleep, marimo,” Sanji muttered roughly. “Big day tomorrow.”
Zoro didn’t answer.
He felt Sanji beside him. Heard his breathing. Counted the seconds between each exhale.
Sleep took a long time to come.
The next morning, Zoro slept late. When he finally opened his eye, sunlight streamed through the tall windows, laying bright stripes across the bed and polished floor.
Breakfast waited on the small table in the sitting area – simple, practical food arranged with deliberate care. Zoro could tell Sanji made it. He must’ve been up early.
Sanji stood near the dressing mirror, already in off-white trousers and an unbuttoned dress shirt. His hair still looked damp, curling faintly around his ears. A rack of formal wear stood just inside the door.
Zoro considered rolling over and going back to sleep.
“I know you’re awake, shit swordsman. Get up. Eat. Bathe. Get dressed,” Sanji said without looking at him, fastening a button. “You’ve got about an hour.”
“I bathed last night,” Zoro muttered, stretching before swinging his legs off the bed. He padded across the room toward the couch and the waiting plate.
“I’m not renewing fake vows with someone who looks like he just crawled out of bed,” Sanji replied evenly.
Zoro glanced at Sanji, checked for awkwardness and found none. Zoro planned just to ignore what happened last night and it was good they seemed to be on the same page.
Zoro ate, bathed again – despite his complaints – and stepped into the tailored suit. The fabric fit too well. He tugged it into place and scowled at the number of buttons, fastening them with visible reluctance and tucking the shirt in properly. He wrestled with the tie, turning it the wrong way twice.
Sanji stepped in from the balcony just as Zoro thought about shredding it to pieces. “Let me do that.” Sanji brushed Zoro’s hands away, smoothing the tie out. He deftly began to knot it.
“Feel like an idiot in this thing,” Zoro muttered. His suit matched Sanji’s – off-white with subtle gold detailing, long jacket cut over a fitted vest and tie. The tailoring hugged his broad shoulders and thick arms. The fabric strained faintly when he moved, the sleeves tight over muscle. Sanji wore his like a second skin, effortless as always. Zoro, on the other hand, felt bulky and conspicuous beside Sanji’s easy grace, too aware of every inch of himself.
Sanji tightened the knot and smoothed it flat beneath the vest. His voice came quieter than usual. “You look good.”
Heat crept up Zoro’s neck and into his cheeks. The space between them felt smaller than it had a moment ago.
Sanji stepped away, clearing his throat. “It’d be better if you weren’t wearing that stupid haramaki underneath.”
“You’re lucky I’m in this getup at all.” Zoro looked away as he reached for his katanas, fastening them at his waist with more focus than necessary. The tailor balked at having to sew in a belt for them, but Sanji talked him into it. They’d be leaving the rest of their clothing behind.
They didn’t talk about the plan, or what they’d do if things went wrong. If a fight broke out, they’d handle it. Zoro’s sole focus remained to get Sanji back to the crew and that’s what he was going to do. Even if it meant renewing vows that had never been said.
The same butler returned to escort them to the ceremony. He led them up another flight of stairs to a small waiting room. The wedding would take place in the rooftop garden.
Sanji dropped into a chair and lit a cigarette, posture loose, one ankle hooked over the opposite knee. To anyone watching, he looked relaxed. Zoro caught the tightness in his shoulders, the way his fingers held the cigarette just a fraction too firm. They both wanted this finished.
The butler approached Zoro quietly and gestured him a step aside. “Your name, sir?”
Zoro answered automatically before he thought it through. “Roronoa Zoro.”
The butler inclined his head and moved off.
Zoro frowned faintly. Big Mom hadn’t reacted as if she recognized him, but he wasn’t exactly anonymous. He sailed with Luffy. And Luffy sat high on her list of problems.
Within fifteen minutes, they were collected again. This time, they were brought to the rooftop and placed inside a giant teacup with some sort of floating cloud beneath.
The rooftop garden had been transformed into a ceremonial venue. Trimmed hedges bordered the perimeter, shaped into spirals and tiers like piped frosting. White gravel paths curved between manicured flowerbeds bursting with pastel blooms – pinks, creams, pale yellows – arranged with deliberate symmetry. Rose arches lined the central aisle, their vines woven thick around lattice frames dusted in gold.
The guests filled the space in tailored suits and ornate gowns, fabrics gleaming in the daylight. Silk, lace, and polished shoes contrasted with the whimsy of the setting. Laughter and polite conversation floated over the garden, refined and controlled, as though everyone understood they were attending both a wedding and a spectacle.
At the center of the rooftop garden rose the wedding cake. It towered over the guests in layered tiers, each level wide enough to serve as a platform. Thick icing dripped down the sides in heavy swags, piped borders looping in intricate patterns around every edge. Ornamental roses, spun-sugar scrollwork, and sculpted skull motifs ringed the middle tier, blending elegance with something faintly macabre. Frosted pillars jutted upward like decorative buttresses, capped with pointed cones that resembled sugared spires.
Near the top, a gazebo-like pavilion had been built directly into the uppermost tier. Its canopy curved outward in scalloped frosting, supported by candy-coated columns. That elevated platform served as the altar, high above the crowd, where the bride, groom, and officiant would stand framed against the open sky.
Music began to play – horns, then a terribly tacky wedding song. The teacup floated up, past Big Mom at the head table, drooling over the cake. It landed at the top and Zoro and Sanji stepped off in front of the officiant.
The officiant was a broad-shouldered man in priest’s robes, spiked gray hair rising above a stern expression. He directed them into place with a small motion of his hand. Zoro and Sanji stepped forward onto the upper tier where indicated. The garden stretched out below them – tables of guests in pale silks and dark suits, sugar sculptures gleaming in the sun.
The officiant’s sonorous voice carried easily as he began the ceremony. “Cherished guests of Big Mom, we are honored for you to have gathered on this special day…”
Weirdly, Zoro started feeling nervous. There wasn’t any reason for it. This was an act to appease Big Mom and distract everyone from the rescue happening on a lower floor of the castle.
The officiant continued without pause, speaking of union and alliance, of two names joined before witnesses, of promises binding beyond circumstance. The breeze stirred the rose arches along the aisle. Sunlight flashed off spun sugar and crystal. The murmur of the crowd faded into attentive quiet as he moved toward the vows, his tone deepening with ceremony. All eyes remained fixed on them.
"And so I ask, do you, Sanji, choose Zoro to be your husband? Do you promise to love and support him, and to always stand by his side, for as long as you both shall live?"
“I do,” Sanji said.
“And do you, Zoro, choose Sanji to be your husband? Do you promise to love and support him, and to always stand by his side, for as long as you both shall live?”
Zoro felt his chest tighten oddly. “I do.”
“The rings,” the officiant said, extending his hand.
Zoro glanced at Sanji, as Sanji withdrew two rings from the inner pocket of his suit coat. Zoro had no idea when Sanji had time to get them. Maybe while he’d been asleep.
The officiant took both rings, then offered them on his palm to Sanji. “If you would take the ring that goes on Zoro’s finger.”
Sanji picked the bigger of the simple bands of braided copper.
“Now take his hand, and while placing the ring on his finger, say the words that reside within your heart.”
Sanji took Zoro’s hand. His hair fell forward, partly shielding his expression as he guided the ring onto Zoro’s left ring finger. His thumb pressed briefly at the base to make sure it stayed.
“I know we fight a lot,” he said, voice rough, “but I always know you’re there when it matters. I trust you completely. And I swear I’ll keep taking care of you – whether you like it or not.”
This felt real suddenly. Real and meaningful. Zoro's pulse rushed in his ears. He barely heard the officiant when he indicated to take the other ring. His fingers felt clumsy as he picked up the braided copper band. He slid it onto Sanji’s finger, the metal catching for half a second before settling into place. His throat tightened. Drawing in a full breath took effort.
“Your vows,” the officiant prompted.
Zoro swallowed. Heat climbed up his neck into his face. “I like you, too, cook,” he managed in a choked voice.
The officiant raised his hands in blessing. “Now you will feel no rain, for each of you will be shelter for the other. Now you will feel no cold, for each of you will be warmth to the other. Now there will be no loneliness, for each of you will be a companion to the other. Now you are two persons, but there is only one life before you.
“May beauty surround you both in the journey ahead and through all the years. May happiness be your companion and your days together be good and long upon the earth.”
The officiant lowered his hands and gave them both a solemn nod. “You may now kiss your husband.”
Zoro’s heart kicked hard against his ribs. His eye snapped to Sanji.
Color spread across Sanji’s face, high over his nose and along his cheeks. He held Zoro’s gaze for a beat, breath shallow, their clasped hands tight between them – the new weight of metal pressing warm against skin. Then he leaned in with a shaky exhale, pressed his lips to Zoro’s, and… oh.
Zoro came undone. The kiss stayed gentle, tender, and butterflies took flight in his chest. Everything narrowed to the point where their lips connected. When Sanji began to pull back, Zoro followed without thinking, closing the small distance again, not wanting the feeling to end.
Applause shattered the moment, followed by bright, triumphant recessional music. Zoro’s face ignited. Sanji’s matched him, blushing bright and unmistakable. The officiant turned, signed a document, then pressed it into Zoro’s hand. Zoro shoved it into his pocket without reading a word.
Sanji guided him toward the waiting teacup, palm firm at the small of his back. The contact sent another wave of heat through him. The teacup lifted smoothly from the tiered cake altar and descended toward the garden floor.
“And now, cake!” Big Mom boomed, clapping in open delight.
Servants swarmed the towering confection, carving the structure into manageable portions. Guests rose, laughing and applauding, offering congratulations as Sanji steered them through the crowd. His hand never left Zoro’s back. It felt hot through the fabric – steady, grounding, and undeniably right.
They slipped off the rooftop without interference, descended the stairwells until they reached the lower corridors, then pushed through the main doors and into open air. Sanji didn’t hesitate. He seized a carriage still hitched to a restless horse, vaulted up, and snapped the reins. Zoro grabbed the side rail as the wheels lurched forward.
They tore across Whole Cake Island toward the shoreline, wind ripping at their suits, the castle shrinking behind them until it disappeared from sight.
The Thousand Sunny bobbed on the water, anchored close to shore. Luffy waved and snagged them both, snapping them onto the ship. The others were all there, even Jinbe, Carrot and Pedro, getting ready to set sail.
The Vinsmoke rescue went off with hardly a hitch. A few servants and guards knocked out, and a lot of cursing Sanji’s name from Judge. Nami passed a black canister with the number three labeled on it to Sanji. “Your sister, Reiju, said to give this to you. She also said to tell you that she hopes that you found the happiness you deserve.”
Sanji glanced over at Zoro, then quickly away. “Yes, I did. You guys are my family and I couldn’t be any happier to be back with you.”
“We love you, Sanji!” Chopper’s shout rang out as he threw himself forward, and the crew surged with him like a tide. Luffy wrapped him up first, Nami scolding through a grin, Carrot bouncing on her toes to reach, Brook’s skeletal arms spanning the lot of them. Sanji vanished at the center of it, laughter and relief folding around him.
Pedro lingered near Zoro, watching the chaos unfold. “You’re not joining in?” he asked.
“Nah,” Zoro said, a quiet smile curving his mouth. “He knows.”
The embrace broke apart by degrees, warmth giving way to motion. Lines were cast off, sails unfurled, the anchor raised, and the Sunny eased away from shore with a creak of wood and canvas. The Sunny caught the wind cleanly, sails bellied full as she cut across the glittering water. Whole Cake Island loomed off their starboard side, its towers and confectionary spires softening in the haze as they rounded the coast.
“Shit,” Sanji muttered.
The Germa fleet spread across the water ahead of them – colossal snails rising from the sea like armored citadels, black flags snapping sharp in the wind. Metal hulls gleamed beneath layered plating, ports sealing, gangways retracting. The floating kingdom was in the middle of final separation, bridges pulling free as the massive creatures shifted and turned toward open water.
One snail angled closer than the others, its shell ridged and bristling with artillery. Atop the highest rampart stood Vinsmoke Judge in full raid suit, a stark silhouette against the low gray sky. His cape snapped behind him, violent in the wind. Even at this distance, the set of his shoulders radiated fury.
He stepped forward to the edge of the battlement. When he shouted, the words carried over the churn of waves and the groan of separating metal, sharp and cutting as a blade. “You despicable brat! You ruined my deal with Big Mom. You’ve been a failure since birth and you are still a failure!”
Luffy planted himself at the rail on one side of Sanji. Zoro stepped up on the other, close enough to brush shoulders. The rest of the crew gathered behind them.
“And you, Straw Hat, what worth does he even have to you?” Judge’s rant went on. “His skin has no armor! He busies himself with menial cooking. He has no pride. He’s swayed by pointless emotion and exposes himself to danger for the sake of the weak. He is mentally soft. He’s flawed as a soldier. He is a failure in every way!”
Sanji folded further into himself with every word Judge hurled across the water. And with every word, something in Zoro went cold.
“Captain,” Zoro said, voice edged in ice. “Do you mind?”
Luffy grinned. “Shishishi. Go ahead.”
Zoro stepped onto the Sunny’s rail in a single, fluid motion. Wado Ichimonji cleared its sheath with a hiss. The air around him tightened. Dark haki bled outward in violent arcs, snapping and writhing against the wind like torn shadows. Armament flowed along the blade in a deep, gleaming coat, turning steel into something absolute.
“You don’t get to say a damn thing about my husband,” Zoro said, low and lethal. “One Sword Style: Yakkodori.”
He brought the blade down.
The strike split the air with a thundercrack. A crescent of compressed force tore free from the edge and ripped across the sea, carving a white wake through wind and spray. It struck the castle rampart in an explosion of stone and metal.
The wall disintegrated around Judge. His armor shattered under the impact, plates fracturing and scattering outward. His mask spun free, flung into open air. A clean, brutal line cut across him as the force hurled him backward off the battlement and out of sight.
Silence followed – broken only by collapsing stone and the crash of debris into the sea.
Zoro stood on the rail a heartbeat longer, breath measured but heavy through his teeth. Then he lowered the blade and slid Wado back into its sheath with a decisive click, gaze fixed on the ruin where Judge had stood, as the last of the rampart gave way.
Luffy laughed again, then flashed a grin at Sanji. “Not sure why that guy was listing all your good qualities.”
“That’s not what he was doing,” Sanji said faintly.
Zoro stepped down from the rail and met Sanji’s gaze. “If you tell me I shouldn’t have hurt him, I will cut you.”
Sanji stared at him, something unreadable flickering across his face. After a moment, he gave a small shake of his head. “No… it’s fine.”
“Good.” Zoro turned toward the men’s quarters. “I’m getting out of this stupid suit.”
The men’s quarters were dim and close after the open deck, the steady creak of the Sunny’s hull beneath his boots. Zoro shut the door behind him and stood there a moment, listening to the muffled shouts as the crew resumed their usual noise. The ship rolled gently, canvas snapping somewhere overhead.
He reached for his collar first, tugging the knot loose with impatient fingers. The tie slipped free. The jacket followed, shrugged off and tossed onto his bunk without ceremony.
Something slipped free and fluttered to the floor.
Zoro frowned, then bent to pick up the folded document lying at his feet. He unfolded it, and his lips parted slightly when he saw what was on it.
This certifies that Blackleg Sanji (f/k/a Vinsmoke Sanji) and Roronoa Zoro were united in marriage on the 29th day of Februrary…
The wedding certificate was signed by the officiant, making it official.
He was married to Sanji.
Zoro went very still. His breath caught. His heart clenching once, hard enough to hurt. Emotions moved through him too fast to sort: shock, disbelief, something warmer threaded underneath. The air around him seemed to expand and contract at once.
His grip tightened on the paper before he forced himself to ease it. The light from the porthole caught the braided copper around his ring finger. Something lodged tight beneath his ribs.
Very carefully, Zoro smoothed the document then set it on the shelf in his locker. He finished changing clothes, drawing on his usual black trousers and a t-shirt. He stuffed his feet into his boots, picked up his katanas, and went to train.
The sea had gentled by late afternoon, rolling in wide, even swells beneath a sky streaked amber and rose. The Sunny rode the wind cleanly, bow pointed toward Wano, her lion figurehead cutting through reflected light. Luffy dozed on the figurehead, Jinbe at the helm. A few leagues back, the Sun Pirates’ ship followed in their wake, its sails catching the same amber light.
Zoro nodded to Chopper, Carrot and Brook on deck as he passed, heading to the galley. Nami and Pedro had their heads together over something on the upper deck.
The galley smelled of soy, ginger, and something sweet caramelizing. Sanji stood at the stove, movements precise and economical as he worked. He’d changed into a pale yellow button-down and black trousers, sleeves rolled just shy of his elbows.
Slanting sunlight poured through the portholes, catching in the steam rising from the pan and flashing gold against a half-filled glass of white wine. The bottle stood open on the counter beside him, condensation beading faintly along its neck.
Zoro caught sight of the ring as Sanji reached for his glass, the band giving a faint tap against the stem. His gaze dropped to his own hand, the matching band still resting at the base of his finger.
It had been hours since they’d left Whole Cake Island. Neither of them had taken it off.
Zoro curled his hand slowly, thumb pressing the metal into his palm.
“Alcohol’s on the second shelf,” Sanji said without turning, stirring something in the pan. “Be sure to read the labels. Nami-san bought some chocolate wine and spirits.”
Zoro rounded the breakfast bar heading for the unlocked fridge. He peered inside, finding neatly aligned bottles. He grabbed one without chocolate in it, pulled the cork, and took a long drink.
“So…” Sanji’s voice carried from the stove, casual on the surface, something else threaded underneath. “We did a thing.”
“Yeah.” Zoro’s grip tightened on the bottle in his hand. There was an unsettled flutter low in his gut. “It’s, uh… legal.”
“What?” Sanji’s head snapped toward him.
Zoro shut the fridge and leaned back against it. “The officiant gave me the signed certificate. It’s in my locker.”
“Oh.” The word came out smaller than expected. Sanji turned back to the stove quickly, stirring with unnecessary focus. “You probably want to get it annulled.”
Zoro didn’t answer. He thumbed the ring on his finger instead, rotating it slowly against his skin.
The pan hissed. The ship creaked.
Sanji glanced over his shoulder when the silence stretched. “You do want it to end.”
Zoro looked up.
Their eyes met.
Heat climbed Zoro’s neck. Sanji’s ears flushed red to the tips.
Neither of them looked away.
A crash sounded from the deck above – wood thudding, someone yelping, Nami’s voice rising like a gathering storm.
Sanji turned back to the stove too fast, nearly knocking the pan handle. “Get out of my kitchen, marimo. Dinner’s not for another hour.”
“Whatever, shit cook.” Zoro turned and left the galley, ears still warm, bottle in hand.
He stepped straight into chaos.
Nami was in full pursuit, Clima-Tact raised as Luffy, Chopper, and Brook fled in wildly different directions. Pedro and Carrot crouched behind a lashed barrel, peeking over its rim. Jinbe’s laughter rolled easily across the deck.
Zoro leaned against the rail just outside the galley door, watching it unfold. The sea stretched wide and calm beyond the Sunny’s wake. His chest felt strangely light.
He glanced back once at the closed galley door. Inside, he pictured Sanji moving between counter and stove, knife tapping the cutting board in precise beats.
Zoro lifted the bottle and took a slow drink. His wedding ring tapped faintly against the glass.
He looked at it this time.
A small smile edged across his mouth.
He couldn’t wait to see what happened next.
End
Omake
Earlier that morning…
Sanji stood in the cavernous castle kitchen, tongue pressed into his cheek as he worked.
Food-grade copper turkey wire lay coiled across the prep table, meant to withstand heat and moisture without breaking down. He measured twice with his eye, then began braiding the strands together, fingers moving with deft precision. The kitchen bustled around him – ovens roaring, knives striking boards, orders being shouted – but he tuned it out.
The butler had found him not an hour before. Asked what name he wished to use at the ceremony. Reminded him, politely, to bring the wedding rings they already had.
The rings they did not, in fact, have.
Sanji twisted the final strand tight, trimming the excess cleanly with kitchen shears. He tested the fit against his own finger first, adjusting the braid by a fraction. Then he shaped the second, slightly larger.
Matching.
He reached for the brûlée torch and clicked it alive. The flame flared blue and steady. Carefully, he heated the joined ends of the copper until the metal softened and fused, sealing each band closed. The scent of warmed copper mingled faintly with sugar and stock in the air.
When he finished, he rolled the rings between his fingers, checking for rough edges. Satisfied, he slipped them into the inner pocket of his suit jacket.
Then he finished breakfast and headed quietly back to the suite, where his sleeping marimo awaited him.
End