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The moment that Zoro falls, Sanji feels it crack through his body like a lightning bolt.
His breath is ripped out of him, the sudden empty space at his back cold and heavy. He whirls around, his foot blazing, his eyes wild, and he’s just in time to see Zoro crumple to the ground… boneless and lifeless, his swords clattering carelessly beside him.
Sanji’s pauses, his head screaming that this is wrong wrong wrong, before he takes a fragile step forward.
“Marimo?” he calls, his voice swallowed up by the raging battle around them, the enemy ship blazing with fire and battle. It’s not right. Everything is bright and loud and busy around them and yet it’s like he’s in a silent vacuum as Zoro lies face down, his limbs splayed around him weakly, indescribably still and motionless.
And then just as suddenly the moment snaps and Sanji dodges an unexpected swing of a sword aimed at his head, dispatching the cocky pirate with a sharp furious kick to the chest before he rushes forward to drop to his knees at Zoro’s side, skidding across the wooden deck of the ship.
“Oi,” he shouts over the roar of the battle, reaching out to jab roughly at Zoro’s shoulders, a heavy feeling in the pit of his chest already telling him that Zoro won’t respond. “Fucking hell, Marimo, now is not the time!”
Nothing. Absolutely nothing, and Sanji feels a deep primal fear starting to lick up from the pit of his lungs, threatening to choke him as he leans forward to roll Zoro onto his back with a strong heave. Zoro goes easily, heavy and limp in Sanji’s arms, and whatever words were on the tip of Sanji’s tongue vanish as soon as a single sightless grey eye finally meets his.
That fear chokes Sanji, a large violent hand wrapping around his throat, and he struggles to swallow past it as his trembling hand comes down to touch Zoro’s face, fingertips brushing over the sharp bone of his cheek.
“Zoro?” he calls softly, painfully quiet, and there’s not even a flicker of recognition in that far away eye.
“It’s pointless,” a cold voice suddenly cuts through the chaos, and Sanji’s head snaps up to see a tall skeletal man dressed all in black towering over him, his face mostly hidden behind the wide brim of his hat, the hitched sneer of his lips the only thing Sanji can make out underneath it. “He’s not here anymore.”
Sanji rises slowly, his hands tightening into fists at his sides as his legs burst back into flame again. He glares at the man, clenching his jaw so tightly it hurts. “What have you done to him?” he snarls, teeth gnashing over the words.
The man tilts his head back, giving Sanji a glimpse of greyish tinged skin and pitch black eyes, so dark it feels like they could swallow Sanji whole. There’s a strange gnawing feeling growing in his stomach, nerves pinching at his skin telling him there’s just something deeply wrong about this man, but he forces them aside as he shifts his weight back onto his hip, readying himself to strike.
“I wouldn’t know how to describe it in the time we have,” the man sighs, sounding almost bored. He raises his hand, a wicked curved sword glinting as he twirls it between his long fingers. His lips twitch up into a grin, shark like with glinting teeth. “More specifically, you have.”
Sanji doesn’t have time for a retort as the man suddenly flies forward, his sword rushing through the air in a sharp arc. He catches it on the flat of his shin, the ring of haki versus steel striking out over the deck, and Sanji rolls his hips as he launches into the air, his other leg already thrashing out at the man’s unprotected side.
He lands the blow, the man letting out a strangled gasp as the air is forced from his lungs in one keen hit. Sanji doesn’t give him time to recover, stepping away from Zoro’s body to drive the man back across the deck of the ship they’re fighting on. Around them, the rest of the Straw Hat pirates lay waste to this crew and it’s ship, the Jolly Roger above already set alight while the enemy crew lies in scattered defeated piles. Sanji doesn’t let it distract him from the man in front of him though, a fierce determination ricochetting through his body as his focus narrows down to one thing and one thing only.
Death isn’t an option here. He needs to take this man alive.
The man isn’t bad with his sword, able to meet most of Sanji’s blazing kicks whilst returning with some of his own attacks. He’s not as good as Zoro, not even close, and Sanji finds it hard to not go for the obvious winning blows. He has a plan though, one that finally comes to fruition the second they finally reach the cabin on the other side of the deck.
Sanji’s eyes slip past the man, weighing up how close they are to the wall, before he lets a grin slip over his face, victorious and cocky enough that he sees a momentary look of panic flicker across the man’s.
“I think you’re mistaken,” Sanji hisses, his words dripping with venom. “We have all the time in the world.”
The man’s mouth drops open but Sanji moves with a fluid grace to launch at him, kicking the man directly in the chest and sending him flying until his back hits the cabin wall, his strangled cry cutting off at the impact. Sanji follows him, his leg twisting in midair to come down on the man’s arm and knock his sword loose from his grip, and Sanji spins quickly to punt its hilt, hurling it forward until it embeds itself into the wood right beside the man’s head.
The man goes still, his chest heaving, and as Sanji meets his gaze, he sees stars in those pitch black eyes.
It happens like this.
It’s a beautiful day on the Grandline. The sun is high in the sky, only the smallest smattering of clouds to keep it company, the waves below glittering beautifully as they lap up the sides of the Sunny, swaying her with a near gentleness across the ocean.
Sanji sits around the foremast, a book resting on his lap and a cool glass of sparkling raspberry tea in the other, the condensation dripping from the rim to gather around his fingers. The others are spread out around him on the lawn, Nami sunbathes on her lawn chair nearby while Robin perches on Chopper’s swing with the little reindeer on her lap, both reading a large medical tome too dusty to be new. Franky and Brook strum away on their guitars in front of them, trying to compose new songs, as Usopp and Luffy doze peacefully on the Sunny’s railing under Jinbei’s watchful eye, fishing rods held loosely in hand.
Zoro, however, sits on the ground beside Sanji. He’d been cleaning his swords at first with the smell of choji oil sweet in the air. Sanji had let his shoulders relax to the sound of a whetstone grazing over steel, surprisingly soothing despite it’s sharpness, but Zoro had finished all three of his beloved swords long ago. Now, he lies against Sanji’s leg, his back braced against the foremast seat as his shoulder and head settle on Sanji’s thigh, his arms firmly crossed over his chest while his swords lie at his side.
He’s calm, fast asleep, and Sanji finds it hard to keep his hand on his book instead of dropping it down to rest amongst Zoro’s soft green hair.
The world is steady, a stolen moment amongst all the endless chaos that comes with the Straw Hat Pirates. Sanji sips his drink and reads his book, listens to the mix of twanging guitars and the soft snores from beside him, and revels in the feeling of nakama.
But like all things, it doesn’t last.
Jinbei is the one to see the approaching ship. There’s been no one for days, no islands or ships, not a single speck on the horizon. His call cuts through the peace on deck and Sanji stops reading just as Zoro stirs beside him, the swordsman slowly moving his head against Sanji’s thigh to look up at him with a sleepy gaze.
Sanji raises his eyebrow as he glances down at him. “Reckon its trouble?”
Zoro huffs, his eye sharpening as he continues to wake. “With Luffy?” He grins, a challenge that makes Sanji’s heart race. “Always.”
It doesn’t take long for the other ship to approach, the Sunny meeting her halfway. The crew is weary, the music stops and the others wake. There’s a strange feeling over the deck, a tenseness Sanji isn’t expecting. When he and Zoro reach the railing to see the other ship that’s approaching, he understands just why.
The other ship is pitch black, dark enough that it seems to swallow up all the light as it speeds towards them. Sanji doesn’t recognise the Jolly Roger that hangs from her mast, the wind not quite strong enough for it to billow to it’s full size, but from what he can make out it doesn’t seem that intimidating… just a bunch of stars around the usual skull.
Nevertheless, there’s something wrong about the ship, something that makes Sanji feel uneasy as he grips the railing tightly.
“Alright, Cook?” Zoro asks beside him, and Sanji plasters on a cocky grin as he bumps shoulders with the swordsman, maybe a little harder than necessary.
“Fine, Marimo,” he says, and Zoro smirks back at him as he pulls Wado from her sheath in one fluid movement. The sharp ring of steel cuts through the air, drawing the attention of some of the others. Nami looks uncertain where she stands with Usopp, both of them having moved away from the railing, although Luffy’s excited grin is reassurance enough.
There’s a brief debate over whether the ship could be friendly, Chopper’s usual optimism always bright in the face of adversary, but said debate is ended the moment the sound of a cannon going off cracks out across the ocean. The other ship misses as the cannon ball flies just past the bow of the Sunny, narrowly missing her lion figurehead, but its enough for the atmosphere to fall deadly serious.
It happens in a rush once the other ship comes aside, and Sanji barely gets a glimpse of the other pirate crew with their drawn swords and ferocious battle cries before he’s climbing the railings and launching himself across the gap between the ships with Zoro and Luffy on either side of him. Their own battlecries nearly rival the enemy crew as they shoot through the air, only to be drowned out by the sounds of firing cannons and splintering wood.
Despite the immediate chaos, there’s excitement in the air with the promise of battle, a near easy one at that. Zoro is shouting at him, words and insults that Sanji laughs and returns easily, the weight of friendly competition light on his shoulders as he twists and turns his blazing legs around him. Zoro is nearby, always nearby with his sharp swords and furious swings, parting the enemy pirates with a practiced ease. They fight back to back, fitting together so easily it’s hard to tell where one ends and the other starts, flawless in the decimation they wrought.
And then… Zoro falls.
The galley is silent.
Sanji sits at the table. He isn’t alone, Brook beside him as still as a statue while Robin sits on the other side of the table, the sound of her fingers drumming on the table top mixing with the deafening tick of her grandfather clock where it stands in the corner. Beside her is Luffy, his arms crossed over his chest, his straw hat pulled down over his eyes, nearly as still as Brook.
At the head of the table, bound to the chair with lengths of rope, sits the man all in black.
“Tell us your name,” Robin finally says, breaking the tense silence. Sanji straightens, his hands gripping each other where they lie in his lap, and he looks over to see the man slowly loll his head towards Robin, those strange endless eyes only just able to be seen under the brim of his wide hat.
There’s a long pause. “Oneiros,” the man says.
Robin’s fingers still, the drumming sound cutting off abruptly. “Interesting,” she murmurs, and Sanji’s eyes snap over to see her regarding the man with a fascinated look. “And your devil fruit?”
The two of them stare at each other for a long moment, long enough that Sanji feels like ripping the hair out of his head and screaming. Now isn’t the time for whatever strange game they seem to be playing, for answers to whatever curiosity this man has peaked in her.
Zoro is currently out cold in the infirmary, Chopper frantically and futilely trying to wake him up… and these two want to play staring games?
“The Yume Yume no Mi.”
The corner of Robin’s mouth pulls up into a slight smile. “The Dream Dream Fruit,” she muses, turning her hand up to rest her chin down on her palm, bracing her elbow on the table as she leans towards the man, her eyes glinting. “Happy coincidence? Or were you known as something else before eating the fruit?”
The man, Oneiros, smiles at her, nothing friendly at all in it. “It doesn’t matter. It hasn’t mattered in a long time.”
Frustrated, Sanji slams his hands down on the table. Brook jolts violently beside him and both Robin and Oneiros turn slowly to look his way, Robin surprised and Oneiros somewhat reproachfully.
Sanji doesn’t care. “What did you do to him?” he demands, and Oneiros regards him with a cold stare from under the brim of his hat. Sanji forces back the urge to slap it from his head. He thinks of the ship they’ve left burning behind them, it’s black wood only getting blacker, and part of Sanji thinks they should’ve left the fucker there to burn with it.
“Why should I tell you?” Oneiros asks sounding bored, and Sanji grits his teeth so tightly they hurt.
“Because if you don’t-”
“Tell us.”
Sanji falls silent as Luffy’s voice cuts out over his, cold and authoritative, enough so that Sanji’s back straightens despite the words not being directed his way. Even Robin sits up, all that strange interest of hers vanishing in the face of Luffy’s order.
Oneiros looks less than impressed, but he answers nonetheless. “I put him to sleep,” he drawls, disdain clearly woven into his words as he stares at Luffy’s still bowed head. “He is unharmed, I assure you of that. In fact, I believe I may have done him a favour.”
Sanji’s mouth falls open, a spew of profanity on the tip of his tongue, but Robin beats him to the punch.
“How?” She drops her hand to start drumming her fingers on the table again, her expression turning contemplative. “Something to do with dreams, I suppose?”
Oneiros seems glad to turn back to Robin. “Astute observation.” He only sounds mildly patronising. “The Yume Yume no Mi allows me to transport one’s soul to a dreamscape.” He smiles, thin and sallow. “Composed entirely of dreams of their own design, or their own want.”
“Sounds wonderful,” Sanji mutters sarcastically under his breath, and Brook elbows him sharply in the side, making Sanji shoot him a filthy look in response.
Neither Robin or Oneiros react to him though. “How do we get him out?” Robin continues, her brow furrowing the longer she regards him.
Oneiros laughs, the sound hollow and grating as it scratches at the inside of Sanji’s ribs. “He has to want to leave,” he tells them, looking unrepentant, nearly amused about it all. “You cannot make him.”
Brook finally breaks his silence, leaning around Sanji to look at the man. “Surely there must be a way.”
Oneiros’s gaze snaps over to him. There’s a pause as he looks at Brook, that amusement slipping away into something a little more fascinated as he leans as far forward as the ropes allow him. Brook squirms beside Sanji, clearly uncomfortable under the intense scrutiny of those endless eyes, and Sanji shifts in his seat to place himself in Oneiros’s vision line.
Oneiros blinks. “There isn’t,” he finally says, and Sanji is nearly about to lose his shit when Oneiros continues, his lip curling with distaste. “Or at least, it’s never been done before. Some have tried, none have succeeded.”
Silence, and then Robin clears her throat, dragging Oneiros back to her again. Brook slumps forward behind Sanji, his skeletal hand resting on the middle of Sanji’s back, his murmured whisper of gratitude barely audible.
“So there is a way.” Robin glances over at Luffy, who still remains sullen and quiet. “Tell us how.”
Oneiros remains quiet though. Sanji is only stopped from standing by a disembodied hand suddenly sprouting up from the table, coming down to grab his wrist in a nearly painful grip. Robin gives him a terse look, a warning hidden in her eyes, and Sanji reluctantly stays seated as Brook’s hand fists the back of his shirt.
Oneiros clearly sees the exchange, his expression morphing into something curious before he leans back in his seat again, eyes flickering between the four of them before they land finally on Luffy.
“If I help you,” he says carefully, each word clearly thought out, “you must promise not to kill me.”
“If you don’t help us, I promise to kill you,” Sanji retorts immediately. Oneiros’s head snaps towards him as he narrows his eyes, and Sanji refuses to flinch, raising his chin in defiance instead.
“Sanji.”
Luffy’s call is unexpected, and Sanji rips his attention away from Oneiros to see his captain looking at him, his expression guarded as those big eyes meet Sanji’s own. There’s a scolding there, something Luffy hardly engages in, and Sanji clenches his jaw, trying hard not to choke on the rage bubbling up his throat.
Dutifully though, he simmers down, slumping back into his seat and crushing Brook’s still present hand between his back and the chair, his leg starting to shake from pure irritation under the table.
Luffy watches him for a moment more before his gaze turns back to Oneiros, and he inclines his head slightly. “We promise.” He pauses. “How do we get Zoro out?”
Oneiros seems doubtful for a moment, his eyes flickering over at Sanji with obvious mistrust before he focuses back on Robin and Luffy once more.
He clearly sees what he wants though as he tries to sit up a little straighter in the chair despite the ropes proving to be difficult to move around. “I have tried only a handful of times. There usually is no reason for me to want to assist in bringing someone back.” He inclines his head. “Obviously, this is an exception.”
“Cut the crap and get on with it,” Sanji hisses, and Robin shoots him a warning look, one he uncharacteristically ignores. He wants answers more than he wants to please Robin, just this once.
Oneiros gives him an irritated glance, but he doesn’t rise to meet Sanji’s frustrations. “A simple touch will send one soul to the dreamscape,” he explains, directing himself back at Robin and Luffy. “However if I am to touch the original soul and another, I can send the second into the same dreamscape.” He leans forward slightly, his lips quirking up into something sinister. “It must be someone strong though, someone willing with a deep connection to the first soul.” He suddenly laughs, sounding deeply amused at something while Sanji’s skin crawls. “They must be careful not to get lost in there. Temptation is a powerful thing.”
Sanji stares at him for a moment longer before shifting his gaze across the table to Luffy and Robin. The two of them seem to be having a discussion with only their eyes, Robin’s lips pulled into a tense straight line while Luffy’s jaw is wound so bloody tight Sanji worries it might just fracture.
“It can’t be too bad,” Sanji calls out and both Robin and Luffy snap to look at him at the same time, their combined attention enough to make Sanji lean back against the weight of them. “The shitty swordsman has only ever cared about one thing and that’s his stupid dream to be the Greatest Swordsman.”
Neither of them respond, making Sanji uneasy, like he’s missing something. Robin looks a little all too knowing as she eyes Sanji before she turns to Oneiros with another question.
“These dreams… they can be anything?”
Oneiros’s eyes flicker to Sanji briefly, their endlessness like a vacuum, before he nods at Robin. “Their imagination is the limit.”
Robin purses her lips, her fingers tapping rapidly on top of the table again before she looks at Luffy. “You cannot go,” she tells him, holding a finger up when Luffy’s mouth drops open as if to protest. “You are our captain. We cannot risk you being lost alongside Zoro.”
Luffy is clearly unhappy, his face screwed up in anger, but after a tense second he gives Robin a terse nod, grinding his teeth together so loudly that Sanji can hear it across the table as Luffy bows his head.
“I could go,” Brook pipes up, and he removes his hand from where it’s been pressed to Sanji’s back to raise it in the air, wiggling his skeletal fingers at Robin. “I’m sure that finding Zoro won’t be-”
“Unfortunately,” Oneiros cuts him off, and they all whirl around to him, “while I have not had the pleasure of meeting someone quite like you,” he’s leering again, making Brook stiffen, “my abilities don’t work on the dead.”
The silence is heavy and tense until finally Robin starts to open her mouth.
“No,” Sanji interrupts before she can get a word out, and her head snaps around to him with a worried look that he’s not quite used to seeing on her. “It’s too dangerous for you, Robin.” He swallows, slowly rising from his seat, his hands staying flat on the table with Robin’s disembodied hand still firmly holding his wrist. “I’ll go.”
The strained looks on his crew’s faces aren’t what he was expecting in return of his declaration, and Luffy looks almost imploring as he shakes his head.
“Sanji…” he starts to say, trailing off in a way that’s a little too helpless. It makes Sanji uncertain, nervous to see his captain so serious and unsure, unusually so. He plasters a smile on his face though, waving a hand nearly dismissively at Luffy in an attempt to ease whatever worries he must have.
“I’ll be fine, Luf.” He shrugs his shoulders casually. “I’m always the one tracking down the bastard when he gets lost anyway. What makes this any different?”
Luffy still looks unsettled, but Robin places a gentle hand on their captain’s shoulder, leaning forward to murmur something in his ear that causes his eyes to flash with something a little more confident.
Onieros clears his throat. “I may harness this energy,” he says, and Sanji throws him a reproachful look, unable to quell the anger he feels towards the man, “but it would wrong to assume I control it.” He looks straight at Sanji, something that could be a challenge in his expression. “Whatever you meet in there will want to keep your friend. Maybe even you too. I wouldn’t anticipate anything less than hostility.”
It’s a clear warning, and Sanji’s hands close into tight fists as he maintains eye contract with Oneiros, refusing to be the first to look away. No matter what will be waiting for him, whatever currently has Zoro, it’s no match for him.
Robin squeezes his wrist though, dragging his attention away from Oneiros. “Are you sure?” she asks, her hand warm and comforting against the turmoil running rampant in Sanji’s stomach. “You might not be ready to see what our dear swordsman’s real dream is.”
Sanji raises an eyebrow at that, unable to help his confusion over her question. Zoro’s dream is to be the Worlds Greatest Swordsman, it’s quite literally his only dream. He has no idea what the hell Robin is on about.
But the dark look in her eye makes him pause, uncertainty running through his veins.
“I’m sure,” he says though, wishing his voice was more confident, that it didn’t waver. Robin watches him for a moment more before she nods, squeezing his wrist again before her hand vanishes, a small shower of pink chrysanthemum petals falling in it’s place. Sanji misses her touch instantly, misses the comfort, unable to help the lump that forms in his throat as the realisation of what he’s about to do settles in.
He can do this though. He’s always been the one to draw Zoro out of his shell, always been the one to find the idiot whenever he gets lost. He’s sure that he can do it again, dreamscape or not, untrustworthy devil fruit user or not.
With pushed back shoulders and a raised chin, he turns to see Oneiros watching him with an interested look so sharp and keen that he feels bared open, like Oneiros is about to crawl into his mind and carve away at it with that curved blade of his. It’s a revolting feeling, one that makes him think maybe this is all a set up, that he’s about to enter into something he’s not entirely sure he should be.
He brushes it off though, ignoring the weighted looks from the others around him.
“Come on,” he mutters, nerves fluttering so quickly his heart races to match, “lets get that idiot back.”
When Sanji wakes up, he thinks for a moment that he’s still in the infirmary.
However, though he still lies on a hard mattress and there’s the soft cradling sway of the ocean beneath him, the familiar smell of Chopper’s antiseptic doesn’t linger in the air. He opens his eyes, taking in the wooden ceiling above him before his attention drifts to take in the room, unsurprised to see he is still on a boat… however the wood of the walls lacks the strange shimmer of the Sunny’s Adam wood.
Aware that he’s somewhere else, he slowly sits up, fanning out his observation haki to see if there’s anyone nearby. The ship he’s on can barely be called that, small enough to make a sloop look huge, and it doesn’t take long to establish Sanji is the only one on board. Content in that knowledge, he swings his legs over the edge of the cot he awoke on, sitting up to take in the small room, unsurprised to see it doesn’t contain much else besides a few discarded barrels and the hard cot underneath him.
“Seems he’s not very inventive then,” Sanji mutters, unsure if he means Zoro or Oneiros. Whichever of them designed this ship didn’t care for details, and Sanji finds out exactly why as he slips out of the cabin and onto the minuscule deck.
Because this nondescript miserable ship is in fact docked down the far end of a very long wharf… which connects to a monstrous galleon, the ship towering over Sanji with enough stories to make him dizzy. It’s not the size of the ship that makes Sanji pause though, one foot on the wharf and the other hovering in the air, but the ginormous fish head that takes up it’s bow.
Sanji spent years on the Baratie, and it doesn’t take him even a second to recognise her figurehead.
Setting his other foot down on the wharf, unsure if it’s the sea that’s making him unsteady or the strange queasy feeling in the pit of his stomach, Sanji swallows thickly before he carefully starts to make his way towards the nearly seamless carbon copy of the Baratie. There’s a few too many decks, the real Baratie only having six, and the colour splashed over her walls is too dark of a green. The railings are white instead of black and the flag that cracks out over the top of the restaurant is plain red, missing any sign of detail.
Nevertheless, Sanji recognises his home even here in Zoro’s dream. The overall ship is nearly correct, only the slightest of details wrong, details that Zoro wouldn’t remember after all this time. After all, the Baratie was a passing ship way back in the East Blue. Sanji’s surprised he’s remembered it at all.
However, Sanji pauses halfway down the wharf as the thought of just why the fuck the Baratie is even here suddenly sets in, and he drops his head to tug at his hair, refusing to acknowledge the strange swell of emotions that run rampant in his chest. There must be reason for it, something that no doubt only makes sense in that meathead of a swordsman’s brain, but right now it just feels utterly insane to Sanji.
He glances around, trying to get his bearings, only to notice that while there’s many ships docked along the few wharfs leading up to the restaurant, there’s actually not a single other soul outside. Sanji frowns, twisting around to make sure he’s not incorrect, but there’s not even a hint of hair or the sound of another person’s voice anywhere.
Just the lapping of water at the sides of the ships… and Sanji realises he’s all alone.
It sends shivers down his spine, and Sanji is very violently reminded that he’s not at all in any sort of reality. This is a dreamscape, made entire up of Zoro’s dreams which somehow includes this strange rendition of the Baratie, and Sanji can’t help but feel very violently and entirely out of his depth.
The wharf at least is steady under him as he sinks down onto it, dangling his legs over the side as he takes deep breaths, trying to push away the twisting overwhelmed feeling that’s gnawing at his insides. He doesn’t know what to do, all that confidence from before Oneiros sent him here evaporating like a puff of smoke.
Right now? He suddenly realises he has no idea what the fuck he’s doing.
Out of the corner of his eye, he sees a fish pass under his feet. He glances down, unsurprised to see its a backwinged cod. They’re in abundance in the East Blue, so much so that Zeff always prepared at least one menu item with them each night, sure that they’d be able to catch enough to feed the patrons. Sanji dips his chin, watching the glisten of the cod’s grey scales under the water, how the sun catches them just enough to make them nearly glitter.
Another bit of movement draws his gaze over in time to see a handful of fickle-necked sea bass pass hurriedly under the wharf, fast enough that Sanji almost misses them. He frowns, a little surprised to see so many of them, but his attention slips away to the large school of northern mackerel that slip out from under a nearby boat.
He freezes, eyes widening. The cod and sea bass are from the East Blue, of course they are… but the northern mackerel?
Surely not. Sanji leans forward, scanning the sea beneath him. It doesn’t take long to spot other fish, a crusted halibut normally found in the South, a sharp faced barracuda circling at the bottom he remembers from the North, a handful of western tuna racing away from the barracuda… Sanji can’t help the lump that forms in his throat as another realisation sets in, this one a whole lot more sharper around the edges.
He’s not in the East Blue as he’d naturally assumed.
He’s in the fucking All Blue.
“What the fuck,” he mutters, his voice coming out slightly strangled. He can’t stop looking, eyes taking in so many fish he feels dizzy, the catch of the light on their glittering scales drawing him in.
He can’t help his smile, the delighted laugh that bubbles out of his throat. There’s so many fish that he finds he’s starting to lose count, all the names swirling around and around in his head. An Orange-breasted snapper amongst a school of southern alefwife, three excited longfinned north heads scuttling around a snapping spot tipped crab, a giant west blue marlin that appears from under a nearby boat and vanishes out to sea.
They’re all here, this is All Blue, this is what he’s always dreamt of, and he leans down to dip his fingers into the water as a northern mackerel passes by…
Only to flinch at the sudden cold, reality screaming back in. He sits bolt up right, dragging his hand out of the water and shaking his head.
No. No, this isn’t real.
He clenches his hand into a fist, water dripping off his wrist onto his knees, wetting the fabric of his pants. He takes another deep breath, dragging fresh air into his lungs, pointedly not looking at the ocean. Oneiros had warned him not to get caught up in the dream, and that’s exactly what he is doing. He’s sure he could sit on the edge of this wharf forever, counting the fish, naming them all and watching their scales sparkle under the waters surface. But that’s what this dream world wants… so that’s what he can’t do.
Truthfully? He hadn’t thought any of Zoro’s dreams would have this affect on him. He’s supposed to dream about being the Worlds Greatest Swordsman… not the Baratie on the All fucking Blue.
What does it mean. What does it mean.
“It’s just a dream,” he mutters to himself needing to hear the words instead of just thinking them. “It’s not real. None of this is real.”
He sounds unsure even to his own ears, and he clenches his jaw so tightly he fears it might just snap.
It doesn’t matter, Sanji decides as he pushes himself up from the wharf, wiping his wet hand on his pants as he goes. What matters is finding that stupid idiot and dragging him out of here, and if Sanji is going to place any guesses on where said idiot is, he gathers it’ll be in that towering restaurant at the end of the wharf.
As he crosses towards the large double doors, he quickly scans the Baratie’s other levels. It doesn’t look like there’s any movement on the other side of all the windows, but that doesn’t mean there isn’t anyone there. Sanji isn’t too sure how this dreamscape works nor how it functions, but he highly doubts bursting through the front doors is the best way to go about this. After all, Oneiros had mentioned that the being inside these dreams won’t give Zoro up easily, and he’ll be lucky if he doesn’t get sucked down with him.
Instead, he turns left at the front doors, following the deck around to the back where he knows the kitchen entrance will be. He’ll be able to sneak in as a waiter, mingle through whatever crowd might be inside to make it up to the top levels. He doesn’t know what to expect, but as he shakes his arms out at his sides, he thinks that he’s been through a lot worse than whatever Zoro’s mind can possibly conjure up.
The door opens silently, barely even a creak, and Sanji is immediately assaulted by the sound of a busy kitchen. It makes something pang in his chest, makes his lips quirk up at the edges. There’s the crashing of porcelain plates being stacked, the hiss of flames licking up the sides of pans, the yelling and shouting of creative swear words that make his ears redden, and the splash of water from a no doubt harried dishwasher. Sanji closes the door behind him, eyes scanning the room, taking in the many chefs and staff, unsurprised to not recognise any of them. Zoro never did spend time in the kitchen, the one in front of him is a poor approximation of the Baratie’s, and it surprisingly puts him a little at ease to see something so glaringly wrong.
No one seems to notice him, and Sanji’s shoulders relax as he steps forward to make a beeline for the doors that lead out to the dining room, the swing of them constant as waiters pour through either way, trays of empty or fresh food held aloft. He moves easily, ignored by the chefs as he avoids hot pans thrown in front of his path and ducks under the low-hanging trays that nearly knock him out. It’s truly chaotic, and he yelps a few times at the near misses.
“Oi!” he shouts when a waiter passes him with a tray of drinks, only just able to lean back in time to miss having his head taken off. The waiter doesn’t even pause though, striding past him as if he’s not heard Sanji, and Sanji glares at his back. “Fuck you too then.”
With a huff, he shakes it off and turns back around, trying to reorientate himself. He’s managed to stumble his way to the left instead of the dining room, the head chef’s office and large doors through to the pantry in front of him, and he mutters a curse under his breath before swivelling on his heel. The dining room doors aren’t too far, and he just starts off to head for them when the door behind him suddenly slams open.
Sanji’s staggers to a halt, eyes wide, as he hears a familiar peg leg clunk along the wooden floor.
He knows that sound, he heard that sound every day for nine years… it’s ingrained in his very being.
“Zeff,” he breathes.
He spins around, a brilliant grin striking over his face as his eyes fall on his mentor, his father, just as he strides out of the office, that gloriously over the top chefs hat perched on his head and those ridiculously long plaits hanging from his top lip. Sanji pauses though, a frown replacing his grin just as quickly as Zeff’s eyes don’t even linger on him, his father instead limping right past him without a flicker of recognition.
Sanji’s mouth falls open. “Oi,” he says again, his voice a little more strangled this time. He takes chase, following behind Zeff close enough to breathe down his neck. “Don’t ignore me, old man!”
There’s not even a response, and Sanji can’t help the fury that rips up over his shoulders. He reaches out to shove at Zeff’s shoulder, damn the consequences, and a plethora of swears swell up his throat as he slams his hand forward.
Only for it to come up short, as if he’s hit an invisible wall, and Sanji blinks as he stays still and Zeff keeps moving forward.
Oh.
All words die on the tip of Sanji’s tongue as he realises… they can’t see him. None of them can. None of the chefs he’s avoided or the waiters that have nearly knocked him out, not Zeff who has stomped his way over to the sautee station and none too gently kicked the sauce chef manning it out of the way with a kick of his wooden leg. None of them can see him at all.
“Huh.” He shakes his head, eyes still caught on Zeff but the growing realisation has shoved away any of his worry of being caught staring. “Well that changes things.”
He trails after Zeff as he looks back around the kitchen with a new perspective. It makes sense now that no one can see him with the way eyes just seem to slip over him and how he has to dance around everyone else, pausing once to see if a waiter will bump into him if he stands in his way. Unsurprisingly, the waiter breezes past him, and as Sanji tries to lean into his path, he meets that imaginary wall again pushing back against him.
“Interesting,” he murmurs to himself, running his hand over his chin before he shuffles over to Zeff.
His father is roaring at the sauce chef but Sanji finds it easy to tune him out like usual as he leans against the bannister running around the sautee station. He takes Zeff in, that silly hat and those terrible plaits, but there’s something a little off.
There’s a photo that Carne sent to him tucked in the back of his cooking journal back on the Sunny, one taken within the last year of the whole crew at the Baratie after the final alternations to her new fleet was complete. The Zeff standing in front of him right now doesn’t look like the Zeff in that photo. His hat isn’t as big, his goatee is shorter, there’s no scar over his right eyebrow that Pattie said he got from a disgruntled customers stray cutlass. Sanji leans forward, and lets out a huff of a laugh.
This Zeff is the Zeff he left over two years ago, the one he last saw leaning over the upper railing of the Baratie warning him not to catch a cold. Sanji shakes his head fondly, admittedly touched to know that Zoro somehow remembers the grumpy asshole he’d met only in passing before having his ass handed to him by Mihawk.
It’s easier now knowing that this Zeff isn’t his Zeff, and Sanji promptly turns on his heel to head out of the kitchen into the dining room. Surprisingly, it’s heaving with people, all with nondescript generic faces that Sanji doesn’t bother trying to identify. Instead, he turns and starts for the nearby stairwell that should lead to the upper decks, feeling more at ease as he sees the interior of this restaurant is lacking a lot of the actual Baratie’s details. Blue curtains instead of red, an elm wood floor instead of oak, square tables instead of circle. Clearly this dreamscape has tried to fill in the gaps of Zoro’s memories, and while the fact he’s dreaming of the Baratie at all still astounds Sanji, it makes it easier to ignore all the strange gnawing feelings in the pit of his stomach as he trudges up the stairs to leave the dining room behind.
However, he comes to a halt as he steps up onto the next deck, only to be met by a long white corridor, five very plain wooden doors dotted down adjacently. It’s not at all familiar, not even a trace, and Sanji stares for a long minute trying to piece together what’s in front of him.
“Okay,” he mutters as he slowly walks down the corridor, eyeing up each of the doors. There’s no difference to any of them. All made out of wood, their dark stain highlighting the grain that runs through them, and all with the same plain brass handles. Sanji smiles a little at that, wondering if it’s intentional. After all, Zoro must’ve heard his rants about how good self-sterilising brass door handles are for restaurants, especially considering he’s directed them at him more than once.
Not that it’s relevant. There’s no hints as to what lies behind any of the doors, and despite only being on the second floor of this towering restaurant, Sanji doesn’t see any other staircases to head up. The corridor is a dead end, just the plain white walls that start to feel a little suffocating, and Sanji takes a deep sigh as he heads back down towards the first door.
“Oh well,” he sighs as he reaches out to grip the door handle, the brass cool under his fingers, turning easily in his grasp. “In for a berri, in for a bounty.”
He doesn’t expect what he sees.
The plain elm floor gives way to familiar Adam wood, the slight shimmer of its grain immediately catching Sanji’s eye, only for his attention to be pulled away by the shriek of a seagull and the return of the gentle lapping of water at the edge of a ship. For a moment he thinks he must have stepped out onto the veranda of the fake Baratie, but he’s soon proven wrong as he shuffles further over the threshold of the plain door.
How the hell the Sunny got here, he’s not entirely sure, but as the door slams shut behind him, Sanji takes her in with wide surprised eyes.
She’s exactly as he knows her to be, the shimmering Adam’s wood, perfect white railings, a brilliant shock of lush green grass on the deck below. Sanji continues forward to lean over the railing, realising he’s standing on the mid-deck, the galley straight across from him with the door opened rather invitingly. Down below on the lawn he can see the top of Nami’s sun umbrella, bright and pink where she’s no doubt huddling underneath, and somewhere above him over on the observation deck he can hear a sweet melody being drawn from Brook’s violin.
He frowns. He hasn’t even found Zoro yet. How come he’s back on the Sunny already?
His thoughts are abruptly cut off by the mens quarter door beneath him slamming open, a sharp mix of Luffy and Usopp’s laughter disrupting the peace as the two of them burst out onto the lawn. Sanji’s lips twitch with amusement, unsurprised as they tumble all over the place, squabbling and squawking at one another like usual. They’re making a beeline towards where Nami must be, and Sanji winces as he hears her already start yelling the closer they get.
He pauses though when he notices something different, and he squints his eyes at Luffy. Something is off, just not quite right, and it takes him a startling moment to realise it’s the hat sitting firmly on his head.
It’s not Shank’s, not his usual battered straw hat with a fading frayed red ribbon around it. This one is new, slightly darker than Shank’s own, it’s ribbon a stark black with clean cut edges of red.
There’s only one reason Luffy wouldn’t be wearing Shank’s straw hat, and Sanji feels a lump form in his throat that he struggles to breathe past as he pushes off from the railing to rush down the stairs.
He gathers very quickly that he’s not back on the Sunny at all, especially when no one turns to acknowledge him despite the ruckus he’s causing, his shoes thundering on the wooden steps. He hits the grass with a thud, tearing across it towards his crew, eyes slipping past Luffy and Usopp where they’re leaning over the large table under the umbrella to see Nami wielding a quill threateningly at them. None of them so much as glance his way as he reaches the table, slamming his hands down on it to lean forward into Luffy’s space, staring at that new straw hat.
Well shit. Well shit.
“You’re King of the Pirates,” Sanji breathes, shaking his head as a laugh starts to bubble out of him. Luffy is in front of him, grinning brightly at Nami with mischievous eyes, and he looks older, so much older. He’s got a smattering of a beard on his chin, his face is more angular with the baby fat long gone from his cheeks, and his hair is so shaggy that it sticks out madly under that new straw hat. Usopp is beside him, crows feet pulling at the edges of his eyes and a brutal scar that curves down from his forehead, but he looks confident, so bloody confident with his shoulders pulled back and his chest puffed out.
Sanji shakes his head, glancing at Nami, unsurprised to see she’s still as beautiful as ever, her hair slightly shorter and with smile lines around her lips that make her look so unbelievably happy. Sanji’s heart is roaring in his chest, pounding so furiously against his ribcage he’s sure it’s going to break, and he genuinely can’t believe it.
Luffy is King of the Pirates. They did it. They did it.
“I swear,” Nami hisses in front of him, and her voice just sounds older, more mature, and Sanji sags against the table as he feels a swell of genuine love burst in his chest, sweeping through his veins with a soft glow, “I just finished this map. If you fuck it up, I will-”
Sanji’s eyes immediately drop to the parchment under his hands, taking it all in as he moves his hands away from it. There’s so much parchment, so many ink wells and broken quills scattered over the table. There’s her compass and planimeter, looking old and beaten now, and a range of different rulers and dividers. But underneath it all, Sanji sees page after page of the beautiful art of carefully drawn maps.
“Its alright, Nami,” Luffy cheers beside him, his smile still the same, wide and brilliant as his eyes squeeze shut, “We can always travel the world again!”
“Do you have any idea how long it took the first time!” Usopp yells beside him, and Luffy just laughs as Nami and Usopp screech at him, their words falling on deaf ears as Luffy tips his head back with joy. Sanji can’t believe it, unable to help his own grin, shaking his head in utter disbelief as he looks between the three of them.
“Oi,” a new voice cuts in though, and Sanji would know that voice anywhere, “would you lot shut up already? Your yabbering is hurting my ears.”
Sanji whirls around, all the air in his lungs completely leaving him as he sees Zoro standing right there, arms crossed as he glares at the others. He’s older, just like the others, his hair slightly longer and slicked back, his skin darker and taunt from undoubtedly years in the sun, the scar bisecting his left eye silvery and smoother. But he’s still in that green coat, still has that disgusting red haramaki slung around his hips, and there’s those ever present swords weighted at his side.
Sanji swallows, words caught on the back of his tongue. “Zoro,” he manages to choke out.
There’s no response though, only Nami’s own as she yells something distasteful from behind him. Sanji doesn’t hear, doesn’t particularly care, and he stumbles forward a couple of steps until he’s right in front of Zoro, hands reaching out to touch him.
They’re halted right before he can though, that invisible barrier back with a vengeance. “Zoro,” he calls again, uncertainty lacing his tone. He pushes against the wall only to feel not even a hint of give. “Oi, shithead, can you hear me?”
He certainly can’t see him, Zoro’s eye fixed on the others behind him, and Sanji grits his teeth as he brings his other hand up to start pushing at the wall.
“For fucks sake,” he mutters, a blinding fury building in the pit of his stomach, dousing all the elation he felt before. “Are you kidding me, mosshead? I’ve come all this way to find you and you’re ignoring me?” He slams a fist into the barrier. Zoro doesn’t even move, his eye narrowing as Usopp chimes in another insult Sanji doesn’t listen too. “Oi! Shitty swordsman!”
“That’s Worlds Greatest Swordsman to you,” Zoro sneers in front of him, and Sanji’s heart leaps thinking maybe he’s heard him, but Nami’s derisive snort behind him sinks the hope as soon as it arrives.
“More like Worlds Most Directionally Challenged Swordsman,” she snaps, and Sanji glances over his shoulder to see her smirking at Zoro, hands planted firmly on her hips. “Mihawk came to you remember, not the other way around.”
“Hey!” Luffy says, sounding mildly offended. “Mihawk came for Shanks. Zoro just happened to be there.”
Usopp’s giggles are hysterical and Nami soon joins him. Sanji turns back to see Zoro looking utterly infuriated, barely disguising the embarrassment he can see in the redness on his cheeks and the downward turn at the corners of his mouth. Even so, there’s a hint of humour in his eye, and he mutters something unflattering under his breath as he turns his cheek to them with a huff.
“Really?” Sanji can’t help but say, exasperated and amused. “Mihawk came to you, Marimo?”
Zoro suddenly straightens, his head snapping over towards him, and Sanji freezes as Zoro’s gaze lands straight on him. There’s a pause, a tense moment as they stare at one another, and Sanji’s breath hitches as he can feel the strange barrier under his hands start to soften.
“Marimo?” he calls again, the word a little quieter than usual, and there’s a flash of recognition in Zoro’s gaze as he stares at Sanji. “Marimo, can you see me?”
Zoro stares, his mouth falling open just slightly, and Sanji’s breath quickens as Zoro slowly starts to nod his head…
“Marimo!”
The moment breaks, Zoro’s head jerks away, and the barrier under Sanji’s hands hardens once more as someone else calls out Zoro’s nickname. Sanji is nearly panting as he recognises the new voice, hears it every single time he opens his own mouth and speaks, and he slowly turns his head up to where it’s coming from the galley above.
“Uh oh,” Usopp groans behind him, “that sounds like a scolding in waiting.”
“Can it, long nose,” Zoro growls, but it’s distracted as he turns on his heel, stomping off across the lawn to the stairs leading up to the galley. Sanji feels frozen, the barrier still up in front of him, but just as suddenly as it appeared, it dissolves, Sanji nearly falling forward at its abrupt disappearance.
“Wait!” he bellows, recovering quickly before taking chase, reaching the bottom of the stairs just as Zoro reaches the top. “Marimo!”
The voice from inside the galley calls Zoro’s name at the same time though, drowning out Sanji’s own. Zoro calls back, a disgruntled warble of words, and Sanji forces down his growing panic as he hurries up the stairs behind him, Zoro already slipping through the open galley door and kicking at the doorstop holding it open as he goes.
“Oi,” he yells again, the word horribly desperate as the galley door swings closed after the swordsman, “Zoro, you fucking ass-”
He reaches the door, grabbing onto the handle and twisting it with a sharp yank, more words warping on the tip of his tongue, burning with rage and panic as he slams straight through the doorway.
Only to come up short, greeted by the sight of the plain white corridor again.
The door slams shut behind him as Sanji stumbles to a halt, twirling around franticly on his heel as he looks for Zoro. He’s nowhere in sight though, only the same boring white walls and five dark wooden doors. His heart is yammering in his chest, blood pumping furiously in his veins, and he turns around back to the door he just burst out of.
But the handle won’t move under his hand, stuck and uncompromising, the door jammed firmly shut as Sanji shoves against it. It doesn’t budge, not even an inch, and Sanji feels the wind get completely sucked from his sails as he stares at it in horror.
“What the fuck,” he shouts, the words tearing out of his throat, and he launches a furious kick at the door.
It barely shudders, the vibration ripping back up Sanji’s leg instead, and he lets out a frustrated shout as he falls back from it, his leg shaking from the sheer force.
“This is bullshit.” He stomps his aching foot down on the floor, pleased when that at least shakes slightly. “What the fuck is going on."
There’s no answer from anywhere, not that he was really expecting one. He stands in the middle of the corridor, heaving deep angry breaths into his lungs, glaring so forcefully at the door in front of him that he hopes it splinters under his stare, his mind racing so fast he feels like his head might just rupture.
But then his breathing starts to slow, the world stops spinning, and his thoughts start to fall back into place.
“Okay,” he mutters out loud, reaching up to scrub his hands over his face, dragging in a deep steadying breath before letting it out and dropping his arms back to his sides. “Okay. You can do this.”
Clearly, the answer wasn’t behind that door… although something else was. Sanji glances at the other doors, figuring that maybe behind each one of them will be a different dream of Zoro’s. Oneiros did say his power was to show people their dreams, meaning plural, so maybe he just needs to work his way through them until he can get to Zoro.
After all, Zoro saw him in there. Maybe for only a second, but Sanji knows he did.
“Fucking Marimo,” he swears, surprised Zoro only seemed to respond to the stupid moniker Sanji dubbed him with years ago.
Sanji turns around to look at the other four doors waiting for him, wondering just what will be contained behind them. He can still feel that deep elation where it’s pressed against his bones, the sharp realisation that Zoro’s first dream wasn’t just Luffy being King of the Pirates but maybe all of them completing their own goals and dreams. He’s sentimental, more so than Sanji expected, especially since it felt more like a promise of what’s to come rather than some farfetched dream. That is more typical of Zoro, practical rather than delusional.
Honestly, he has no idea what else Zoro could be possibly dreaming about, but there’s no time like the present to find out as Sanji strides towards the second door in front of him, hand already reaching for the brass doorknob.
As he steps through, the wooden floor gives way to snow, the blast of cold abrupt and miserable as Sanji leaves the corridor behind. It’s a stark white where it covers the ground in front of him, so thick there’s not even a hint of brown or green beneath it. Delicate snowflakes trickle from the sky in lazy circles, he can already feel their sweet chill as they land on his cheeks and nose, and they gather in piles on the roofs and windowsills of the numerous wooden huts that surround him. He’s in a small village, homely and welcoming with fires flickering behind frozen windows, the booted tracks left behind by villagers the only break in the otherwise perfect snow blanket.
It’s scenic, picturesque, and Sanji isn’t too sure if it’s really come from Zoro’s imagination or not.
This time he turns around as the door starts to close behind him, it's to see he’s stepped out of one of the huts. He just catches sight of the white corridor disappearing before the door closes with a soft click, and when he reaches back out to test the handle, it doesn’t give.
Unsurprised, he turns back around and sets out to find Zoro. He’ll be here somewhere, hopefully easy to spot with his green hair contrasting against the white snow and brown wood of the village. Granted, he could have it shoved under a beanie, but Sanji hasn’t know the idiot swordsman to ever wear appropriate weather gear.
He walks for some time, trailing through the huts with the crunch of snow underfoot. He glances down once, frowning when he sees that he isn’t leaving any prints behind him. He assumes it must be something to do with the strange barrier that keeps popping up and the way no one knows he’s there, his presence leaving no trace. He passes villagers as he walks, men and women, old and young, all with those fake generic faces that he saw in the dining room of the Baratie. They seem vaguely familiar, and Sanji wonders if they have been plucked from Zoro’s memories over the many years to fill in the gaps.
It’s an interesting thought, and were Sanji not so pissed off at the man in the first place, he thinks he’d have a lot of questions for Oneiros.
Eventually, after making his way to what is most likely the centre of the village, Sanji finally stumbles across Zoro. He’s not alone, and Sanji can’t help but smile when he sees he is with a familiar little reindeer where they are under the veranda of one of the huts. Zoro is crouched down beside Chopper, the two of them focused entirely on a small girl in front of them that sways in her father’s arms, her eyes glassy and cheeks flushed.
She must be sick, Sanji theorises as he approaches slowly, the need to call out to Zoro beaten by the morbid curiosity of what is happening. He gets a better look when he comes to a halt beside the veranda, wincing when he sees the little girl looks truly awful, seemingly only held up by the tight grip her father has on her, clearly feverish as she sways on unsteady feet.
“- just a little injection,” Chopper is saying, his voice calm and steady, Zoro quiet and solid beside him. “And then you’ll need lots of rest afterwards, okay?”
The little girl nods slowly, but her father leans forward looking worried. “And you’re sure this will work?” he asks, voice wavering. Sanji can’t imagine how he must be feeling.
Chopper gives him a small reassuring smile. “I’m sure.” He glances briefly at Zoro before straightening his shoulders, chin lifting with confidence. “I’ve seen this before. It will take some time, but she will make a full recovery.”
The little girl lets out a weak cough, her father’s eyes widening as his arms tighten around her frail body. He gives a jerky nod, swallowing visibly. Sanji can see the uncertainty in his eyes but nevertheless he dutifully holds out his daughters arm, soothing her quietly as she lets out a stolen whimper.
Chopper takes her arm with his hooves, a syringe full of amber fluid held tightly in one of them, and Zoro reaches forward to gently push the little girls sleeve up to show her upper arm. Sanji’s chest squeezes at the tenderness in Zoro’s movements, especially when the little girl looks up at him, her worry lines between her eyebrows soothing out at his little encouraging smile.
Sanji glances away. Too many feelings to piece apart roar up in his chest, too many to understand. Instead, he just takes a slow steady breath in and tries to focus.
A small yelp draws his gaze back though just in time to see Chopper pressing a small piece of gauze to the little girls arm, the syringe now empty of the amber fluid. Zoro has moved, rocking back on his haunches while Chopper continues murmuring to the father as the little girl slumps in his arms. It doesn’t take long until Chopper pulls away, the father lifting the girl up into his arms as he gives Chopper a frail smile, before he steps down off the veranda to begin trudge through the snow.
Sanji moves to the side to let them pass, forgetting for a moment they won’t see him. Already, the little girl’s eyes aren’t as glassy as they were, more clear and sharp, and Sanji shakes his head in disbelief.
Behind him, Chopper clears his throat, and he turns to see him watching the other two go with a small frown, his lips downturned at the edges.
“Western meningitis,” Chopper murmurs, looking far away as he twiddles the empty syringe in-between his hooves. “Hiriluk died from it.” He glances down, kicking at the snow that’s piled on the edges of the veranda. “I wish I’d known the cure earlier.”
Zoro leans over, bumping his shoulder into Chopper until he looks up. “But you did find it,” he points out, and Chopper’s returning smile is fragile. “You’ve cured everything we’ve come across, Chopper.”
Chopper tilts his head to the side, his eyes glistening with unshed tears as he lets out a little laugh. “Yeah,” he agrees, reaching up to scrub at his eyes. Sanji wishes he could cross over and wipe those tears away for him. “I have, haven’t I?”
Zoro hauls Chopper in, bundling him into his arms. They stay like that for a long moment, Chopper’s tiny arms looped around Zoro’s neck as Zoro runs his fingers through the fur at the base of Chopper’s head. Sanji watches with a lump wedging itself firmly in his throat, feeling rooted to the spot as he flexes his hands at his sides. He knows he should call for Zoro, see if he can break through to him again, but it would be wrong to interrupt when Chopper so clearly needs this, dream or not.
Eventually, someone nearby calls out Chopper’s name and the little reindeer pulls back from Zoro, sniffing as he rubs his nose. He gives Zoro a watery smile as he straightens his hat, and Zoro gives him a short nod in response before Chopper turns and hurries off. Sanji watches him go, heading towards a familiar looking older woman that Sanji recognises a little belatedly as Dr Kureha, and when he glances back at Zoro its only to see Zoro is already up and walking away.
“Oh, fuck,” he swears, kicking off after him. “Marimo!”
He’s too far away to hear him though, and he grits his teeth as he runs after the swordsman. This is stupid, he thinks grumpily. Granted, he’s always been the one to go chasing after the idiot every time he gets lost, but this time it just feels ridiculous as he crunches over snow without leaving a trace, desperate to call out to a man who can’t hear him.
“You fucking asshole,” he mutters as he goes, unable to help the feeling that despite running, the distance between them isn’t getting any less. “I’m so sick of your shit.” He growls, forcing himself to run faster. “So sick of this shit!”
No matter how much he pushes himself though, he just can’t seem to get any closer to Zoro. The swordsman remains just too far away, too far to even potentially hear him as he calls out his nickname, horrified to hear the desperation leaking into his voice. Zoro doesn’t react though, doesn’t even turn, and Sanji chases him further into the village until finally Zoro reaches another wooden hut, smoke billowing from its chimney and the windows glowing with a deep warmth.
Without even a pause, Zoro swings open the front door, calling out to whoever is inside as he goes. Sanji sees a flicker of orange hair in the window and hears a familiar yohoho laugh, but the door slams shut behind Zoro and Sanji swears as he charges forward.
He wrenches the door open the second he reaches it, gritting his teeth as he throws himself over the threshold. “Marimo!” he calls as his boots skid on the sudden wooden floor, and he just manages to stay upright as he stumbles forward with barely any grace.
Right back into that white fucking corridor.
Sanji stands still for only a moment, his shoulders moving up and down as he breathes heavily, eyes wide and wild as he runs them up and down the corridor, before he strides forward and throws open the third door without wasting another moment.
“Marimo!” he roars as he storms through, burning with unbridled fury, able to taste the sheer rage on his tongue. He casts his eyes around, searching for that stupid fucking green hair and those ridiculous swords, determined this time to drag the bastard back even if it kills him.
He comes up short though, not expecting to have stepped out of that corridor straight into a giant temple, the deep purplish grey walls long since crumbled and the vines of tenacious plants have taken over what remains. It’s large and cavernous, dark like the ruins he remembers of Skypeia, and there, right in the middle towering over the room with it’s imposing glossy black surface… is a giant poneglyph,
Sanji freezes, his mouth falling open. In front of it stands Robin and Franky, their backs to him however their silhouettes so easy to identify, but Robin’s shoulders are shaking as her hands rest on the poneglyph’s surface. Franky steps forward to rest one of his own on her lower back, leaning down to murmur something in her ear, and Robin leans into his touch. He can’t see their faces but he can feel the emotions pouring off of them, especially Robin, and his stomach starts to twist as he wonders if maybe… no, that can’t be right.
But then his eyes slide past them as he hears a raucous commotion, and behind the poneglyph there’s a dais with a giant stone carved throne on top and a towering steel door behind it, a nearly comically large golden lock hanging from the handle. His crew is gathered down there, Nami stands over Usopp as he picks at the lock, Luffy sprawls over the throne with a laughing Chopper in his lap, that black ribbon back around his straw hat, and Brook cheerfully sings something jaunty where he sits on the dais steps as Jinbei lurks quietly beside him. So much noise and excitement and yet, as Sanji glances around the large temple, he notices there’s no Zoro.
Until he hears the clomping of boots from behind him.
Sanji knows the sound of Zoro’s gait better than his own, and he’s just about to whirl around to shout at the bastard when Zoro suddenly comes to a halt beside him, arms crossed and face slightly hidden from the cast of shadows. Sanji stares, eyes wide, wondering if Zoro even knows he’s here. His attention is clearly focused on the crew in front of them, and Sanji mouth opens and closes before remembering just what he has to do.
“Marimo,” he murmurs, the word nearly catching on the tip of his tongue, and he freezes as Zoro turns instantly to look at him.
“Cook.” Zoro’s lips tug up into a smile, there’s a glint in his eye, and Sanji feels utterly breathless at the inexplicable joy he sees on the swordsman’s face. “We did it.”
Sanji struggles for words, unsure now what to do with Zoro’s full undivided attention, not needing to fight for it. There’s a warning in the back of his head, telling him this isn’t right, that the dream must be playing some sort of game to go from keeping him away from Zoro to this, but he ignores it as he quirks his head just slightly to the side, unable to help the sheer curiosity that fights its way past all reason.
“Did what?” he asks, and Zoro rolls his eye, uncrossing his arms to gesture out in front of him.
“Laughtale. The One Piece. Robin’s poneglyphs.” Zoro shakes his head, a small laugh bubbling out of him that even he seems surprised to hear. “All of it. We did it.”
Sanji’s eyes widen and he looks back over to the others. Robin is reading the poneglyph aloud, Franky recording everything on a tone dial beside her, while the others are still horsing around down by the dais. Usopp looks frantic under Nami’s progressively louder instructions while Luffy’s chortling and Brook’s singing nearly drown them all out. It’s madness, it’s joyful, and Sanji can’t help his own laugh of sheer disbelief.
“Yeah,” he agrees. “I guess we did.”
It feels strange to say. In the back of his mind there’s a reminder nudging at him that they haven’t at all, that this is all a dream and so utterly fake, but there’s a new feeling prodding just that little harder, the feeling of relief and excitement as he glances around the temple, as he sees the poneglyph Robin has fought all her life to find, as he sees the door that leads to the One Piece that Gol D. Roger spoke of in one last rebellious cry, as he sees the red-tipped black ribbon once more around Luffy’s straw hat and all the deep connotations that come with it.
This is what will be, this is what is.
He jumps when he feels a hand suddenly brush his, and he glances down to see a warm tan hand slowly wrap around his own, fingers lacing together with a practiced ease. His breath catches in his throat, creating a lump that’s impossible to breathe around, and Sanji’s heart thumps so loudly that it drowns out all the noises around him as he drags his gaze up from hand to wrist, wrist to arm, arm to shoulder, all the way until he finally reaches Zoro’s face.
Only for the world to feel uneven under his feet, the room to spin around him, as he sees the softest look he never thought Zoro was capable of, the slight crinkle of skin at his temples, the gentle upturn of the corners of his lips, the warmth in his steely grey eye as it meets Sanji’s own.
“Zoro…” he murmurs, the word pulling from him of its own accord. Zoro’s eye flashes, something there that Sanji’s doesn’t recognise but he himself has felt for a long time right down in that little space between his heart and ribs, and Zoro’s hand squeezes around his.
“The All Blue is next,” Zoro says, his voice confident and strong, and Sanji can’t fucking breathe. “I promise.” He inclines his head over towards the others, that smile slipping into something more exasperated, breaking its hold over Sanji. “They’ve had their moments. Yours is next.”
Sanji shakes his head, his fingers reflexively tightening around Zoro’s. “The All Blue is just a pipe dream.” He grits his teeth as the swell of relief and excitement starts to flicker away. Sanji can feel reality starting to beat its way back in, the hold of the moment unravelling. “I’ve never really expected us to find it, Marimo.”
Zoro raises an eyebrow. “It’s out there,” he says firmly, and Sanji is taken aback by his credence, not sure he’s ever seen this steely determination before for anything that wasn’t to do with being the World’s Greatest Swordsman. “We will find it, Curls. A place where all the seas meet, right?” Zoro shrugs. “Surely it can’t be that hard.”
Sanji’s surprised laugh bursts out of him, unexpected and disbelieving. The way Zoro has said that? So dismissive? So sure? As if thousands of people haven’t tried to find this infamous and mythical sea and died in the process? Sanji shakes his head, feeling a little insane, feeling completely overwhelmed.
But then Zoro grins, big and brilliant, and gods he looks so beautiful. Sanji feels a deep swoop in the pit of his stomach, feelings he has never given time for rolling and twisting freely without any constraint, and Sanji knows exactly what they all mean.
And as he glances down again, unable to hold Zoro’s burning gaze, just to get a glimpse of their interlocked hands once more, so easily held as if this happens all the time… he realises maybe he’s not alone in it at all.
It’s the only thought he needs to snap himself out of all of this, to realise that while everything feels wonderful despite being so overwhelming, it’s not real.
None of this is real.
“Is this what you dream of?” he asks, unable to help himself, the words falling with no resistance. He looks at the others, the joy and the chaos, the craving to ignore the truth and fall into their lie so much richer than the pull to get out of this strange dreamscape. “Everyone else’s dreams?”
When he looks back, its to see Zoro frown. His expression morphs into something a little more confused. “Our dreams.” He shakes his head. “They’re our dreams, Twirls.” He gestures at the others. “Our reality.”
Sanji swallows thickly. There’s no reason for Zoro to lie here, not in this place that has been so carefully designed from the thoughts and feelings that whirl around in his head. The tight grip he has on Sanji’s hand is more than enough proof that Zoro isn’t aware this isn’t real, and Sanji… Sanji needs to get him out before maybe he starts to see more that he’s sure Zoro, the real Zoro in the real world, wouldn’t want him to see.
So he lets go, pulls his hand back from Zoro’s despite how he immediately misses the touch, and he turns completely to face him.
“Marimo.” The name feels like a tether, the only thing holding Zoro to him. “This isn’t real. None of this is real.”
Zoro’s brow furrows even more, deeper and almost angry. “What?” Zoro thrusts a hand out to point at the others, and Sanji notices how they’ve all seemed to go still. “What the fuck are you talking about, Cook?”
Sanji steps forward right into his space, hoping to keep Zoro’s attention, desparate to get through to him before the dream intervenes, clearly it’s plan to suck Sanji in having failed. “You’re in a dream, Marimo,” he reaches forward to grab onto the lapels of Zoro’s coat. “This is all just in your head. This isn’t real. You were attacked by a devil fruit-”
“Zoro!”
Luffy’s voice cuts him off, his call to Zoro louder than it should be as it drowns Sanji out. Sanji throws a furious glare over to where his captain is, the dream version of his captain, and his grip on Zoro’s lapels tighten.
“Don’t listen,” he hisses. “Focus on me, Zoro, this isn’t-”
“Marimo!”
Sanji falls silent, his eyes widening as he hears another voice, his voice, call out to Zoro. The same voice he heard on the Sunny when he first got here. He turns slowly, the world feeling impossibly thick around him, only to see a flash of golden hair standing in the now open doorway behind the dais, visible between Nami and Usopp.
There’s a smirk on that familiar face, one that makes Sanji feel cold down to his bones.
The moment breaks again.
Sanji gasps as a sudden force slams into him, wrenching his hands away from Zoro’s coat despite his scrambled attempts to hold on, and he’s launched backwards until he nearly trips over, barely staying on his feet as he wobbles on his heels.
He swears, his teeth gritting together, and when he looks up it’s to see Zoro is striding away as if nothing has happened, as if Sanji doesn’t exist. That familiar person in the doorway is calling out to him, beckoning him to come closer as their crew animates around them once more.
“No!” he cries, feeling cold despair seep through him with sharp edges. Zoro doesn’t respond, his hand instead rising into the air in response to the others calling out to him from the dais in an inviting chorus. “You fucker, Zoro, stop!”
Zoro doesn’t though. Sanji takes chase after him, gods he’s so tired of chasing him, but like the village before he already knows he won’t be able to catch up. It’s like running through thick molasses, and Sanji barely puts any effort into even trying as Zoro reaches the dais, Usopp clapping his back with a bright laugh, before the two disappear behind the newly opened door, the gaudy gold lock lying broken to the side.
Sanji doesn’t even spare it a glance when he reaches the door himself, his run having slowed to a walk. It doesn’t matter, none of it does as the sounds of his crew have tapered off into silence, the world feeling still and cold around him.
He doesn’t even bat an eyelid when he crosses the threshold straight back into that awful white corridor.
This time though, he comes to a halt, swallowing down too many emotions to recognise, his hands balling into fists where they shake at his sides, his eyes burning as a lump swells in his throat. He blinks, forcing back welling tears that threaten to trickle down his cheeks, and he hauls in a breath that goes no further than the back of his throat.
“Fuck,” he swears and he lets out a wretched sound, sinking to his knees as he grips his hair in a painful hold, tugging violently as he squeezes his eyes shut. “Fuck fuck fuck.”
He can’t do this. He thought he could, he foolishly thought he’d be able to get in and get Zoro out. But there’s more here than what he thought he’d see, more than just Zoro’s dream of being the Worlds Greatest Swordsman, more than just bloody Mihawk with his gratuitous sword and Zoro’s vehement belief that he will beat the man.
There’s so much more, and Sanji’s hand burns with the memory of Zoro’s own entwined with it, his chest screaming as he finds so many emotions he never thought would see the light of day finally rising up for retribution.
It’s too much. It’s too much.
He isn’t sure how long he stays hunched over like that, choking on feelings and shaking at the thought of what’s to come. He wants to cry, deep ragged sobs that wrench themselves from his very core, but he won’t. Not now, not when Zoro needs him, not when his whole crew is depending on him, Luffy is depending on him.
He can’t let them down no matter how much he wants to just curl up and let these dream take him away, let the dream win. After all, would it be so bad?
That singular thought is enough to make him know it will never happen.
Agonisingly, he stands, slowly pulling himself back up to his full height. The fourth door is in front of him, unassuming in all its simplicity, and Sanji’s hand trembles just slightly as he reaches out for the brass door knob, thoughts whirring through his mind about just what could be behind this one, ideas running short despite the endless possibilities.
However, he doesn’t expect to step into a dojo, although he guesses he wasn’t expecting any of the other places either. The dojo is quiet though, sleek wood and woven mats spread out in front of him, paper white windows look nearly grey with the lack of light behind them, and Sanji can tell its nighttime by the single candle that flickers to the side of the door at the end of the room.
He doesn’t bother to wait for the one to close behind him. Each step feels heavy as he crosses the room to the other door, sliding it to the side easily when he reaches it. It opens straight out onto a veranda leading down into a stone courtyard, the darkness of night barely illuminating it and the sound of cicadas loud where they mingle amongst the rustle of the surrounding trees. Sanji takes a few steps forward, looking around with caution, only to pause when he sees two children fighting one another in the centre of the courtyard, the sound of clashing swords ringing to join the cicadas.
It takes a moment for Sanji to recognise who they are, sinking down to sit on the steps leading down from the veranda. He knows the boy straight away, his green hair always Zoro’s most recognisable attribute, but the girl isn’t familiar with her short cropped blue hair and large dark eyes. Sanji squints, only to reel back when she swings a familiar white-hilted sword to meet Zoro’s own.
Sanji never knew her, but there’s only one other person that ever wielded Wado Ichimoji.
Kuina towers over Zoro, all height and lithe grace, while Zoro is short and stocky, a strange sword with no finesse to it held in hand. It doesn’t seem to stop him as the two of them clash over and over, swords glinting as they catch the moonlight that trickles through from the overbearing trees around them. Sanji doesn’t move from his spot, drawing his knees to his chest instead as he waits patiently for whatever is about to happen.
He knows that Zoro never won against Kuina, not once in their two thousand and one battles. He remembers Zoro admitting it one drunken night, when they’d leant against one another as Franky’s bonfire had roared in front of them on some nameless island’s beach. Zoro had been awfully pliant that night, calm and relaxed in a way he never often is. He’d smiled as he’d told Sanji about Kuina, her determination and passion, the way she’d driven him to be who he is now, how she still remains the main reason for his dream to be the Worlds Greatest Swordsman.
Despite that smile though, he hadn’t been able to hide the loss in his voice.
But this is a dream, and Sanji isn’t at all surprised when Kuina lets out a startled cry before Wado suddenly clatters to the ground as Zoro’s presses the tip of his sword to the hollow of her neck.
He’s too far away to hear their voices, the cicada cries much too loud and the slight wind drifts away what murmurs could reach him. He isn’t fazed though, knowing that this isn’t for him to see anyway, that Kuina has always been the key to a part of Zoro he isn’t ready to share.
After all, Sanji has already seen too much… he can’t take this too.
Whatever they’re discussing ends quicker than Sanji anticipated and he sits up a little straighter as Zoro turns on his heel to start heading towards him. He doesn’t look ecstatic like Sanji thought, instead he’s frowning and seems confused, almost unsure as he keeps glancing back at Kuina over his shoulder, his little brow furrowing more and more the closer to the dojo he gets.
Sanji nearly calls to him, but something stays his tongue. Instead he just watches as the much younger Zoro shuffles up the steps past him with his sword held loosely in hand, his footsteps barely making a sound as he trudges into the dojo, closing the paper door carefully behind him.
“He knows this is wrong.”
Sanji jumps, whirling around with wide eyes to see Kuina standing in front of him, Wado gripped between both her hands, her expression too morbid to be on someone so young as she looks at him with impossibly dark eyes. He opens his mouth, ready to respond, only to pause as he realises what’s happening
“You can see me?” he asks in disbelief.
Kuina narrows her eyes, and Sanji feels impossibly self-conscious under her gaze. “Obviously.”
Sanji’s mouth falls open before it closes, and he shakes his head. “No one else has,” he points out, and Kuina’s head tilts just slightly to the side. “It would make you the first.”
Kuina doesn’t answer, just watches him with an expression Sanji won’t bother trying to understand. He doesn’t know her enough to even guess what that quirk of her eyebrow could possibly mean, nor the way her lips thin just the slightest. She glances past him at the closed door with those strangely calculating eyes before she sighs, her shoulders slumping as she drops her head to look down at Wado.
“I don’t understand this place,” she murmurs as her hands tighten around the wooden saya, her skin whitening over her knuckles. “It’s not right. I shouldn’t be here.”
Sanji swallows, linking his hands together in his lap as he subtly pinches the skin over his first knuckle, rolling it between his thumb and finger. For a place of dreams, he can’t help but wonder if he’s dreaming. “You shouldn’t?”
She huffs, throwing him an irritated look before she stomps forward to perch on the edge of the step Sanji is sitting on. He flinches when her arm brushes his, not expecting the touch, not expect how cold she is.
“Dreams don’t work so well on the dead,” Kuina tells him, and Sanji raises his eyebrows in surprise. She doesn’t pay him any mind though as she rests Wado in her lap, its hilt poking Sanji in the thigh roughly. “I don’t know much about this place, but it’s hard to replicate things that will never happen .” She smirks, and Sanji sees a hint of something truly competitive in it. “Not that this would have happened even if I was alive.”
He snorts, wondering just what Zoro would say to that. Something filled with bluster and puff, no doubt. “So you were brought here then? From wherever you were before?”
“Maybe.” She looks up at him, and Sanji is struck by how incredibly young she is. It makes his chest ache with something sharp. “I was at peace before, and now I’m here.” She pauses. “In myth, the god of sleep and the god of death are twin brothers. Maybe there’s something of a crossover at times.”
Sanji smiles through his frown. “You’re awfully perceptive for someone so young.”
Kuina raises one of her shoulders in a half-shrug. “I’ve been dead a long time, Sanji.”
He’s not expecting her to know his name, the single word jolting through him. There’s a multitude of thoughts and questions that burn through his mind, ones that Kuina might be able to answer… but he’s well aware that they might not be answers he deserves nor should know.
However, there is one he can’t help but ask. “I saw Brook though,” he muses, “but he didn’t seem to see me.”
“Oh,” Kuina drums her fingers on Wado’s saya, the clacking noise it causes loud in the quiet. “Your skeleton friend, right?” When Sanji nods, she shakes her head, looking oddly amused. “Supposedly dead, but he seems more alive than me.”
Sanji quirks an eyebrow at her, but she doesn’t follow up with anything more. Instead, she looks straight ahead, her face slightly impassive but Sanji can see by the way her fingers tap faster and faster on Wado that she’s clearly thinking of something. He doesn’t rush her, time doesn’t seem to be a factor here in this dream world anyway, and Sanji isn’t in a hurry himself. Zoro can wait, the final door can wait.
Right now, he’s simply listens to the cicadas and the clack of blunt nails on wood.
Eventually, Kuina does speak, her voice a little more quiet than it has been, almost hesitant like it’s being pulled from her. “She doesn’t fit me anymore.”
Sanji glances down to see Kuina has wrapped her hand around Wado’s hilt, the sword impossibly large in her small hold. He wonders how she used to wield it, what she looked like, if it was anything like how Zoro does now. He probably could’ve had answers had he watched their fight earlier, but it hadn’t seemed right.
It still doesn’t. “She’s your sword, isn’t she?”
She frowns, her mouth pursing as her hand trembles slightly with how tightly she’s holding Wado’s hilt. “She was.” Kuina lets go, flexing her fingers as Wado lays silent in her lap. “Her handle fits someone else’s hand now.”
Zoro’s, undoubtedly so. Sanji wonders idly if Kuina has seen any of the small dents in Wado’s hilt where Zoro’s teeth have left their mark. Perhaps not. She hasn’t said anything after all and he believes she would have much to say if she did.
His thoughts are cut off though as she suddenly turns to him, offering Wado with a determined look on her face. Sanji stares in disbelief, eyes flickering between her and Wado, wondering just what she’s trying to do.
“Take her,” Kuina instructs, and it’s only because he gathers she won’t take no for an answer that Sanji hesitantly reaches out to wrap his hand around Wado’s saya, the side of his hand brushing Kuina’s. She’s still cold, too cold, and Sanji swallows around the lump in his throat.
“Are you sure?” he asks when she doesn’t let go immediately, and Kuina’s gaze drops to Wado. Sanji can feel her hand trembling again, brushing against his own, her hold tighter than his own.
But then she lets out a shaky breath, one that seems too big for her little body, and she nods as she lets go of Wado, the sword’s weight falling entirely into Sanji’s hand.
“Yes.” She rolls her shoulders back, her jaw set and dark eyes steady as she meets Sanji’s own. “Zoro needs her more than I do.” The corners of her lips twitch into a half smile, and Sanji aches for the childhood she lost. “She belongs with him now.”
Sanji believes her, even if the thought of taking Wado away from Kuina makes his stomach feel heavy. His grip tightens around the saya as he pulls her into his lap, surprised that she feels the same as she does in the real world, although he wonders if maybe it’s just his memory filling in the blanks of the dream around him.
It doesn’t matter. Seeing Wado, holding her, ignites something in him, something that has him surging to his feet, a new feeling of determination running through his veins. There’s one more door, only one more. The end of this twisted dreamscape is in sight, and now that he has Wado?
He doesn’t feel so alone.
“I’m sorry, Kuina,” he says quietly, pausing on the steps and glancing down at the top of her head. She doesn’t look at him, her eyes firmly fixed out towards the courtyard. “I wish I’d had the chance to know you.” He hesitates, but it feels right to continue. “May even as the Worlds Greatest Swordsman.”
Her shoulders stiffen, rigid enough to snap, but Kuina doesn’t move. Sanji lingers for a moment more, his hand hovering as if to touch her, maybe to soothe away the pain she must be feeling, but his hand tightens into a fist where it hangs between them before he turns back to the dojo.
He only just reaches the door though before he hears her call his name, her voice small but loud in the quiet of the night. Sanji pauses, his hand resting against the wooden frame, and he glances over his shoulder to see Kuina has turned on the step to face him.
“Take him away from here, would you?” She smiles, so beautifully that Sanji feels the air pull from his lungs. “He never has been good at finding his way.”
Sanji’s eyes burn at the corners, and he gives Kuina a tight smile and a jerky nod before he slides open the door and steps one last time back into the corridor.
The last door looks a little more imposing as he crosses towards it, the sound of cicadas disappearing as Kuina’s door clicks shut behind him. He swallows again, pausing in front of it, torn between curiosity and dread to see what could possibly be behind this simple door.
Because the thing is, Sanji can see the appeal of staying here. He could walk back through any of those doors right now and not regret staying in any of those moments. He would love nothing more than to revel with Luffy as the Pirate King, to read every single one of Nami’s maps and admire the beauty in them. He would love to watch Chopper cure all those unknown illnesses, to hold him close and soothe away the mixed feelings of elation and regret as he realizes he’s finally cured that which took away the man who taught him he deserves a family. He would go back and listen to Robin recite every single word off that final poneglyph a hundred times over, to run through the halls of the ruins with his crew and celebrate that they did it, they finally did it, they found Laughtale and with it the One Piece.
Sanji could go back and let Zoro hold his hand, let Zoro smile at him like that, let him make Sanji’s chest swell and his heart beat and his head spin.
But what Sanji wants more… is for it to be real.
So it’s easy then to reach out and twist the brass handle of that final door, to step through it with barely any hesitation, Wado gripped so tightly in his hand she might just leave a permanent mark against his skin.
He’s not expecting to step into a normal room though, the plain elm floor continuing on instead of merging into something else for once. It’s a continuation of the corridor, of the fake Baratie behind him, and as Sanji moves further into the room, he’s utterly blown away by the giant wall of windows right in front of him, able to see the stunning and breathtaking stretch of the All Blue all around him, the water glinting and catching from the sun streaming down over it.
The awe vanishes though the moment he realises he’s not alone.
Zoro is here, of course he is, but it’s not the Zoro he knows. This Zoro is different, older, his hair shaggier and streaked with grey, his shoulders still broad but his frame less muscular, the scar that bisects his eye only a faint silver now against aged wrinkled skin. He’s swaying in the middle of the room, his arms wrapped around someone else, his eyes closed and a strange look of utter peace on his face. There’s music playing nearby, a soft crooning song from the East Blue, and Sanji’s eyes fall on the person in Zoro’s arms, someone with long curled blond hair with a tall slender frame.
He doesn’t need to see his face to know who it is.
But slowly, as they sway to the gentle hum of the music, as they turn on the spot, Sanji feels the world drop out completely from beneath his feet as he’s greeted by an older version of himself.
Blond waves, the curl at the end of his right eyebrow, the well groomed facial hair and the sharp bridge of his nose. It’s him, it’s all him even though there’s the crows feet at the edge of his eyes, his hair is streaked with silver, and the smile lines around his mouth are deep… even though he’s older and different.
And there, dangling from his right ear, is one of Zoro’s earrings.
Sanji rocks back a step, gripping Wado like a lifeline as he stares at that single piece of jewellery. The two in front of him sway in another circle, and he sees Zoro only has the two hanging from his ear. He doesn’t know what it means but he thinks he knows what it means, feels an incredible mix of surprise and want build so violently in his chest that it makes him feel nauseous and dizzy.
There’s something soft here, something warm and comforting, a deep promise that has lasted a lifetime, something that could feel like home.
“You fucker,” he mutters under his breath, again catching sight of the earring on his own ear as they sway in another circle. “Why haven’t you told me?”
Questions for later, questions for reality when they’re standing on the Sunny and he can grip Zoro’s shirt to shake the bastard silly. He pushes his feelings down, forcing them back into that small space between his ribs, hoping that the thunderous beating of his heart won’t break them before he has the chance to explore them more.
For now, he holds Wado tight, rolls back his shoulders, and calls out. “Marimo?”
He’s not expecting his older self’s eyes to snap open… Sanji feels his gut twist when a single gold eye meets his before whatever it is, whatever this dream is, smirks at him, pressing it’s cheek into the crook of Zoro’s neck.
“Marimo,” it croons, sugary sweet, and Sanji feels sick. “Oh Marimo.”
“Stop,” Sanji snaps, his voice shaking. “Leave him alone.”
The dream laughs, using Sanji’s voice to form something sinister. “No,” it says, petting the hair at the nape of Zoro’s neck, Sanji’s long fingers sliding through soft green strands. “I like this one. I will keep him.”
Sanji grits his teeth, clenching his jaw hard enough to snap it. “I won’t let you.”
“Oh?” the dream raises its eyebrows, the curl at the end arching up it’s forehead. “You do know where you are, do you not?” It caresses Zoro’s shoulders, long strokes that make Sanji shake with barely restrained anger. “He is mine. As long as he is here, as long as he wants to, he is mine.”
Sanji narrows his eyes. “Fuck you,” he spits. “Marimo, I need you to listen to me.”
Nothing, not a thing as Zoro remains completely absorbed by the dream in his arms, as if Sanji isn’t even here. It makes his blood boil, and Sanji wants to scream. The dream just watches him with amusement as Zoro continues to guide them in those small circles, that single gold eye glinting with its clear joy.
“I will keep him,” the dream purrs, pulling away from Zoro’s shoulder just slightly, giving Sanji a better look of it’s whole face despite most being shadowed by a curtain of that silvery blond hair. “How easy it is if I look like this.” It’s satisfied smirk makes Sanji want to be sick. “But then, you know that now do you not? I let you feel it. Was that not kind of me?”
“No more games,” Sanji demands, and the dream quirks it’s eyebrow again. “I’m done.”
“Done?” The dream giggles, warped and twisted. “I am only getting started.”
Sanji bites down the urge to attack the fucking thing as it shifts it’s attention back to Zoro, it’s hands sliding around and up to cup Zoro’s cheeks, and Sanji feels frozen as the dream slowly leans up as it guides Zoro down.
The moment it’s lips touch Zoro’s own, something in Sanji snaps.
“That’s it!” Sanji roars, striding across the room as he feels his legs starting to burn, rage rippling down his limbs in furious waves, Wado shaking in his firmly clenched hand. “That’s fucking it, asshole! I’ve had enough of being ignored!”
He manages to catch a glimpse of surprise on the dream’s face before Sanji slams into the two of them, that strange invisible barrier not nearly enough to hold him back as he lets out a blast of pure haki directly into it followed by a sharp burning kick aimed right at Zoro’s chest. He feels the give nearly immediately, most likely because the dream clearly loses it’s concentration, and Sanji feels a strange sense of deep satisfaction as his shoe bursts straight through the barrier and collides with Zoro.
Who clearly doesn’t expect the hit as he’s suddenly launched across the room, slamming straight into the wall of windows.
“Pay attention, Marimo!” Sanji continues, storming past the shell-shocked looking dream, not deigning to give it even a fleeting look as his attention stays firmly on the crumbled mess of swordsman in front of him. “This isn’t real! None of this is real!”
Zoro lets out a groan just as Sanji reaches him, shifting against the wall before he raises his head. Sanji isn’t expecting the venomous look, the sheer rage etched into the lines of Zoro’s aged face, and he falters in his stride as Zoro glares up at him.
“What the fuck, Curls-” he starts to snarl, only to cut himself off as his gaze slips past Sanji, undoubtedly to see the dream where it stands behind him. That venomous look slips away into something a little more surprised, worsening as he glances between the two, and Sanji winces as Zoro’s gaze shutters into something impassive.
“Marimo-”
“Marimo,” the dream speaks up, gliding past Sanji to help Zoro up, Zoro looking between the two of them with a narrowed eye. “Do not listen to a word this apparition has to say. It is here to-”
“Oh shut the fuck up,” Sanji snaps, and the dream throws him a wicked look where it stands at Zoro’s side, it’s hands wrapped around one of Zoro’s biceps firmly. “All you do is lie. Tell him the truth.”
The dream just glares at him, and Sanji huffs as he turns back to Zoro.
“Mosshead, you were hit by a devil fruit,” he starts to explain, and Zoro frowns back at him. “It sent you here, to a dream world. None of this is real. You’re stuck in your own head.” He hesitates. “We’re stuck in your head.”
“Lies,” the dream hisses, it’s grip tightening on Zoro. “This thing is lying to you, Marimo.”
“I don’t lie,” Sanji states, voice cold and brutal. “Never to you. I don’t have too.” He pauses for a moment before he steps forward, bringing Wado up from where she’s been hanging loosely in his grasp, offering her out to Zoro. “You know that, Zoro.”
Zoro doesn’t respond for a minute, his gaze falling on Wado. He reaches out, his fingers grazing her wooden saya, only for the dream to yank suddenly on his arm and pull him back with a grumble.
It’s the wrong thing to do. Zoro shakes it off, pushing the dream away from him as his hand snaps out to take Wado, tugging her from Sanji’s grip. He steps away around the room, putting space between them all as he holds Wado out in front of him, still sheathed as he glowers at them over her.
“No,” he says, and Sanji’s hand falls back to his side as Zoro’s eye flickers between them. “You don’t.” He hesitates, something so un-Zoro. “This is a dream then? All of it?”
Sanji thinks of the doors, of what was behind them. Each one of them one of Zoro’s dreams, a reason for him to stay here in this dreamscape. He thinks of Luffy wearing that new straw hat with the red-tipped black ribbon as Pirate King, of Chopper’s hoof on that little girl’s arm as he saved her life, of Robin’s shaky voice as she’d recited the poneglyph aloud.
Of Zoro’s warm hand in his, of the Baratie on the All Blue.
“All of it,” Sanji murmurs, and he hates the way his words make Zoro flinch.
It’s not the familiarity that Sanji was expecting though as Zoro keeps Wado between them. He frowns, glancing over briefly to see the dream straightening up to regard them with that bright yellow eye, the glint of the earring in it’s right ear catching the light from the windows. Sanji stares, the sight of that earring weighing heavy in the pit of his chest, before he turns back to Zoro.
Zoro, who has Wado pointed right at him.
“Why are you here?”
Sanji is stumped by the question, his eyes widening as his mouth opens slightly in response. Zoro looks calm and collected though, the only sign he might not be the single crease between his eyebrows, and Sanji swallows around the sudden lump in his throat.
“To bring you back, idiot-” he says, and Zoro’s sudden laugh cuts him off.
“But why?” Zoro spits, shooting the dream an irritated look when it lets out a small noise from the corner.
Sanji shakes his head. “I don’t understand,” he says slowly. “What are you asking?”
There’s a pause, and Sanji’s eyes widen when he sees Zoro’s hand tremble around Wado’s hilt. It’s unnerving, and when he meets Zoro’s gaze, it’s to see something similar to fury burning in it.
“Why should I leave when I have everything here already?” Zoro demands, desperation leaking into his words, something that makes Sanji’s stomach twist and turn awfully. “Tell me, Twirls? I have everything-”
“It’s all a lie!” Sanji shouts, throwing his hands into the air, choking on his frustration. “It’s a fucking dream, Zoro. This isn’t real, and it won’t ever be if you don’t get the fuck out of your own head right here, right now.”
Zoro stares at him, his face a horrible mix of distraught and angry. He shakes his head slowly, and Sanji’s chest clenches as Zoro’s shoulders slump and he hangs his head, Wado falling down to hang at his side. “Not all of it will though, will it? Some of this will stay a dream.”
Sanji stares, his mouth hanging open, wondering just why Zoro won’t meet his gaze. He glances over to the dream, narrowing his eyes when he sees the dream watching them with a fascinated look, and Sanji grits his teeth before he turns back to Zoro.
Only to see the swordsman standing painfully still, Wado gripped so tightly in his hand that Sanji can hear the creak of the wooden saya, and Sanji… Sanji realises exactly what Zoro is meaning.
This right here. Them.
He closes the distance between them, reaching out to cup Zoro’s cheeks as gently as he can before he tilts his head up. Zoro lets him, loose and compliant in Sanji’s hold, and a shuddering breath spill from Sanji’s lips as he leans forward to press their foreheads together… this close, he’s able to hear the sound of Zoro’s own hitching.
“Then don’t let it be just a dream, asshole,” he whispers, his voice barely audible to his own ears, and Zoro’s eye widens as they stare at one another. “Come home.”
There’s a beat, a pause, a moment, and then the most brilliant smile Sanji has ever seen curls up the corners of Zoro’s lips, a small shaky breath of disbelief dropping from them that has Sanji’s stomach lurching and his heart pounding, and Zoro opens his mouth…
Only for nothing to come out.
Sanji blinks, leaning back just slightly with a frown as Zoro stands in front of him, completely rigid, his mouth half open, his eye glassy and unseeing. He’s freakishly still, just as he was when Onerios used his devil fruit power on him, and Sanji can hear the sound of footsteps getting closer behind him. Knowing who it is, he tenderly caresses the pad of his thumb over the arch of Zoro’s cheekbone just once before he slowly turns around.
The dream greets him, still wearing his face, still with the long blond hair and curled up eyebrows, it’s yellow eye the only thing separating it and Sanji. It’s staring at him with a strange look, something deeply incredulous. Sanji rolls back his shoulders, puffing out his chest with a thinly-veiled confidence as he meets the dream’s steely gaze, and he reaches back to wrap a hand around one of Zoro’s frozen wrists, needing reassurance that he’s still there.
There’s silence for a long moment, and then.
“Do you know what this place is?” the dream asks, sounding genuinely curious. Sanji purses his lips, unsure if he should answer. Its time to leave after all, Zoro has agreed in his way, so there must be something that’s still keeping them here.
Annoying the dream won’t get him any further though. “Yes,” he says, and the dream quirks it’s head to the side slightly. “A place of dreams.”
“Where your imagination is your only limit,” the dream continues for him, and Sanji takes a slight step back as the dream comes forward, determined to keep himself between the dream and Zoro. “Tell me, Cook, what is your limit?”
Sanji feels it before he sees it, someone else suddenly in the room with them, and he’s just about to turn around to see who it is when they speak.
“Sanji?”
His mother’s voice cuts through him like a hot knife.
Something inside him breaks, shattering into a thousand pieces, and a part of him he’d long since thought dormant comes rearing up so violently he feels dizzy and sick. The world gives way beneath his feet, the room swaying as he fights to keep himself standing, his hold on Zoro the only grounding thing he has, and when he looks up its to see the dream looking back with unbridled satisfaction.
“Sanji? Is that you?”
It takes every single fibre of his being not to turn around, not to look for his mother, to look for those kind blue eyes and that elegant heart wrenching smile. Sanji can picture her now and his hands tremble as his body shakes with the sheer effort to keep himself staring only at the dream.
He won’t let the dream get to him, he won’t.
It takes time, he can hear his mother still calling to him even as he forces himself not to listen, until finally that look of satisfaction slips from the dream’s face, morphing into something puzzled and angry. It’s eyes flicker past Sanji, frowning as it stares at whatever is behind him, before it turns back to him.
“Do you not want to see your mother?” it asks, voice syrupy sweet once more, barely hiding the confusion it must be feeling. “She is right there. She is right behind you.” It steps forward, spreading it’s arms out as if in invitation. “You could see her again. Do you not want that, Sanji?”
I do, Sanji thinks, but he grits his teeth and clenches his fists, his heart jackrabbiting so violently in his chest he thinks it might just shatter his ribs. He can feel her behind him, feel her warmth and love. The child inside him is screaming, the desperation clawing through his skin, the need to see her again so strong he fears it will consume him.
“My mother is dead,” he manages to say, his words wavering just slightly, each one jagged and sharp as they slice through him. “I would never be selfish enough to pull her from her rest.”
The dream in front of him recoils, eyes widening as it pulls back from him. There’s a long pause as they stare at one another, Sanji’s gaze burning with determination and the dream’s own narrowing with uncertainty, before suddenly a small smile spreads over its lips.
“Interesting.” It clicks it tongue and Sanji blinks with surprise as suddenly the room is empty, only the two of them standing in it. Zoro is gone, Sanji’s hand now grasping nothing as he closes it into a fist, and he knows his mother is too. Only the dream remains, watching Sanji with crossed arms and a slightly tilted head. “Very interesting.”
Sanji is tempted to ask just what’s so interesting about all this, but it’s stamped down by the pressing need to simply get the fuck out of here.
And then something happens. The dream straightens, it’s back now ramrod straight, and Sanji realises… to leave, one must want too.
He raises his chin, his eyes narrowing as he pushes his shoulders back once more.
“I’m going now,” he says, and the dream’s eyebrow raises. “I’m taking Zoro with me.”
There’s a heavy silence before the dream huffs. “Indeed you are,” it agrees. “I do not believe there is any way I could keep you here, is there.” That smile grows wicked, sinister. “After all, this is your dream too, is it not?”
Sanji swallows, a million thoughts rushing through his mind. Not a single one catches though, and he starts to takes slow steps backwards, reaching a hand out behind him in hopes of finding the door.
“Maybe,” he says noncommittally, and something flashes in the dream’s eyes. “But I’d rather it become a reality than stay a dream.”
The dream laughs, something wretched and loud. “A lesson many should learn.” It inclines its head towards him. “Goodbye, Sanji. Perhaps we will meet again.”
Sanji’s hand meets cool brass, and he grips the door knob with his fingers. He looks at the dream, eyes running over the familiar face, the curly eyebrows, the long blond hair and well groomed beard.
Those eyes are yellow though, yellow and piercing and nothing like his own.
“No offence,” he mutters, fingers twisting the doorknob as the door creaks open , “but I fucking hope not.”
The dream’s sharp laughter follows him as the world goes dark.
Reality comes back in one fell swoop.
Sanji wakes in a heave, sitting bolt up as he gasps for breath, spots dancing in front of his eyes as his body shakes. It’s violent and sudden, as if life has just been thrown back into his body carelessly. Everything is too bright, too loud, too much, and he squeezes his eyes shut at the rush of nausea that creeps up his throat.
But then just as quickly as it had happened, it disappears. The sounds start to separate, the creak of the Adam’s wood around him, the beeping of Chopper’s monitors to his left, his own breathing easing into something more even and sure. He slowly blinks open his eyes, the glare of the lights nearly painful as he sees he’s in the infirmary, the hardness of the cot beneath him familiar in its discomfort.
Shit, he realises, he’s back.
“Sanji?”
He jumps at his name, eyes wide as he whirls around to see Chopper standing near the door, his mouth open slightly as he stares at him. They look at one another for a moment before Chopper bursts into action, hurtling towards him with a million questions on the tip of his tongue, too many for Sanji to even keep up with.
“How’re you feeling?” Chopper demands as he scrambles up on the bed beside him, his little hooves coming out to poke and prod at Sanji’s chest and face. “Are you okay? How is your breathing? Am I making sense? How is your head? Can you focus on-”
“Chopper,” Sanji scolds lightly, reaching up to grip Chopper’s invasive little hooves, pulling them away gently. “Breathe, please.”
Chopper does, a huge one that nearly lifts him off his feet, and Sanji smiles down at him as Chopper shakes his head and mutters a few things under his breath.
“I’m fine,” Sanji manages to say before Chopper can start up again, and the little reindeer gives him a grumpy look at being cut off once more. “Seriously. It was just a sudden wake up.” He reaches up to tap on the side of his head. “All fine and functional.”
Chopper doesn’t look convinced but he doesn’t argue. He does ask a few more question, still pokes and prods and takes readings from the monitors Sanji is hooked up too. It takes an ECG and a couple of blood pressures until Chopper finally agrees that he’s in good condition, although he squawks a little when Sanji pulls the pulse oximeter off his finger when he finds it’s pinching a little too much.
“I didn’t say you could do that,” Chopper grumbles, but he accepts the pulse oximeter and busies himself putting it away. Sanji takes the opportunity to swing his legs over the edge of the bed, rolling his shoulders back as he cracks his neck from left to right.
He honestly feels like he’s been hit by a sea train, but as he glances over to see the other infirmary bed empty, he decides he can deal with it all later.
“Hey Chopper,” he calls as he slowly stands, wincing at the way his body feels like it wants to collapse in on itself. “Where’s Zoro?”
Chopper glances back at him over his shoulder, eyes flicking to the empty bed for a moment. “He woke up a while ago,” he says carefully. He pauses for a moment, looking torn, before turning properly to face Sanji. “He wanted to wait for you, but I asked him to leave when I realised you weren’t waking up right after him.” He shrugs, looking uncertain. “I’m sorry, should I have let him stay?”
Sanji gives him a smile, crossing over the room to drop a hand to Chopper’s hat, running his hand up one of his antlers soothingly, the metal clasp that holds it together cold under his fingers. “It’s okay, doc. You always take the best care of us.”
Chopper starts to wiggle, his grin infectious as he curses Sanji out. Sanji just rolls his eyes and squeezes his antler gently before he heads for the door leading out on deck. He could do with some fresh air, something he adds over his shoulder so that Chopper doesn’t drag him back to the bed, and he’s pleasantly relieved at the cool rush of sea-salt wind that hits him as he steps out onto the deck.
It’s night time, something his eyes appreciate as he closes the infirmary door behind him, shutting out the muted yellow light with it. The moon is high in the sky, the stars twinkle above, and Sanji feels the tenseness in his shoulders ease as the welcoming sound of the waves lapping gently at the Sunny’s sides soothes him.
He stands for a long moment looking out at the dark sea, trying to think of nothing, unable to stop the thoughts of where Zoro could be from filtering in. His fingers itch for a cigarette, nerves bundled so tightly in his stomach that they sit like a lump of lead, and as he starts off to circle around the deck towards the lawn, he pulls one from the pack tucked in his front pocket.
Not that he lights it up as he rounds the corner of galley, only to stumble to a stop when he sees Zoro leaning on the railing in front of it.
The first thing he notices is that this is the real Zoro. Not dream Zoro, not Worlds Greatest Swordsman Zoro, not even old Zoro. This is the Zoro who still has years to go until he’s ready to face Mihawk, the Zoro that has not a wrinkle on his face and whose scar that bisects his eye is still an angry puckered thing, the Zoro who carries the weight of his crew’s dreams on his shoulders so willingly that it makes Sanji’s chest ache.
It’s his Zoro, and it’s that thought that has him moving forward to join him.
Despite the barely there light cast from the lamps hanging on the galley wall, Zoro is still relatively shrouded by the night as Sanji steps up to lean on the railing beside him. He knows Sanji’s there, Sanji can feel the way Zoro stiffens when brushes their arms together, but he doesn’t turn to look at him.
Sanji isn’t surprised. He doesn’t know where Oneiros is, or whether Zoro has seen him. He doesn’t doubt that it wouldn’t have been pretty. There’s just some things that can’t be forgiven, some lines that never should be crossed.
But Oneiros doesn’t matter right now, now when Sanji can only think of the All Blue and a single gold earring.
He contemplates speaking but finds the words don’t come. He’s not bothered knowing they have time. Instead, he taps the end of his cigarette on the railing, not lighting it in favour of casting his eyes around the deck. There’s no one else out here, only the two of them, but he can hear noises coming from the galley behind him. He’s glad to have skipped it in favour of walking around the deck, not sure he can deal with the crew’s energy… especially the inquisitive looks Robin will no doubt send his way.
Eventually though, the silence drags on too long, and Sanji lets out a soft sigh, the air cold enough that his breath curls up in front of him in a smoky wisp.
“I’m sorry,” he starts, the words quieter than he expected.
Zoro starts beside him, and Sanji glances over to see him looking right back, a frown marring the skin between his eyebrows, his eye slightly narrowed in confusion… in worry.
“For what?” Zoro asks, his voice hoarse as if from disuse. He looks like he’s ready to bolt, not that Sanji can blame him, and Sanji purses his lips, tapping the cigarette a little harder on the railing as Zoro stares at him unblinkingly.
There’s so much to say, so many things to apologise for. For leaning in and seeing everything that Zoro dreams of, for opening up a chest he knows he should never have had the key for. Zoro is not the kind of man who is willing and open with his thoughts and feelings, so for Sanji to have trounced through them in a place Zoro had no control over makes him feel… wrong.
“You didn’t have a choice,” Sanji murmurs, dropping his gaze, unable to hold Zoro’s own. “I got to see everything, Zoro, and at no stage did you have a choice to get me to stop. I’m sorry that-”
He stops as Zoro suddenly moves, turning to face him with a furious look on his face.
“No.” Zoro is firm enough that Sanji’s words die in his throat. “I don’t regret you seeing any of that.”
Sanji’s mouth hangs open. “You don’t?”
Zoro shakes his head, raising a hand in the air in some strange aborted movement. Sanji wonders if he was going to reach out to him, but instead Zoro brings his hand up to run it down his face, a disbelieving laugh spilling from his lips.
“They’re our dreams, Curls. Why would I not want you to see them?”
Oh.
Suddenly, Sanji remembers what Zoro said in front of that poneglpyh back in that dreamscape, and he realises that Zoro doesn’t care about Sanji seeing his dreams, because they’re everyones dreams. Zoro has never thought different, and right now, as he stands right in front of Sanji looking like he’s a man waiting for his own execution… Sanji thinks he might know exactly why.
Zoro swallows in front of him, the exaggerated movement of his Adam’s apple drawing Sanji’s eye. Zoro glances away just once, his jaw clenching over and over, the muscle working dramatically under his skin. He seems to steel himself though, dragging his shoulders back and raising his chin.
“Did you mean it?” he asks, and Sanji can’t help his laugh because of course, of course this is what Zoro is truly worried about.
He reaches out, snagging Zoro’s shirt to pull him closer, Zoro’s eye widening as he stumbles the last couple of steps towards him. He stops when their shoes bump together, but Sanji keeps going, reaching up to cup Zoro’s cheek, the tips of his fingers brushing against the earrings hanging from his ear, their gentle chime matching the jackrabbiting of his heart.
They catch the light as they swing and Sanji thinks of a single earring in his own ear, the promise of what’s to come, and he can’t help the brilliant smile that spreads over his lips.
“Yeah, Marimo,” he says as he leans forward, pressing their foreheads together, Zoro’s shaky breaths caressing his lips. “I did.”