Recite Your Vows

Posted originally on the Archive of Our Own at http://archiveofourown.org/works/18276902.

Rating: Not Rated

Archive Warning: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Category: M/M
Fandom: One Piece
Relationship: Roronoa Zoro/Vinsmoke Sanji
Character: Vinsmoke Sanji, Roronoa Zoro, Mugiwara Kaizoku | Strawhat Pirates,
Aka Ashi no Zeff | Red-Leg Zeff, Trafalgar D. Water Law, X Drake, Basil
Hawkins
Additional Tags: Romance, Fluff and Humor, Domestic Fluff, Getting Together, ZoSan -
Freeform, Idiots in Love, Post-Canon
Language: English
Collections: Other Fanfics
Stats: Published: 2019-03-29 Completed: 2020-04-02 Words: 69,142
Chapters: 8/8

Recite Your Vows

by HaveMyWeedCookies

Summary

The cook would fight anyone who dared to show a tiny bit of disrespect towards the
swordsman, and those who insulted the cook’s honor would get cut for the very same
reason.

Or, a story of two oblivious idiots who had no idea that they had been married all along.
The friends and families were running out of patience waiting for them to finally become
official. Luffy only cared about the wedding cake, though.

Notes

See the end of the work for notes

 Chapter 1

1.

5 years ago, the Strawhat pirate finally disbanded. They had accomplished their dreams and now
the time had come when everyone had to continue the new chapter of their lives on their own.

It was during the midday where the sky was clear of clouds and the sea was never bluer. There was
no island on sight, just them and the wide-open ocean, when Luffy announced the disbandment, he
was standing on the lion’s head, his eyes hiding by the shade of his straw hat as he told them to go
back to their people, simple and calm as if he just commented on the weather and not about to
disband the most powerful pirate band in the world. No one protested him. They all had matured
enough to say goodbye when the dream ended.

“Sanji, we have to have the greatest feast ever!” After giving his speech, the captain specifically
addressed to the cook. He had the same childish smile. And Sanji couldn’t help but fulfil perhaps
his captain’s last command to him. After this, Luffy would continue to sail the sea, the renowned
pirate king’s heart was still beating with the yearn for adventures but from now on he and the crew
would sail no longer under the band of the Strawhat.

2.

The first to disembark was their archaeologist, Nico Robin. Everyone was surprised by her request
to be dropped off at the Alabasta Kingdom. Robin smiled faintly as she explained that she still
owned the princess and her citizens an apology. Despite everyone trying to reassure Robin that
Vivi had forgiven her a long time ago, the archaeologist insisted to make amends. So, the Strawhats
took this chance to visit their friends at the kingdom before saying goodbye to Robin.

Perhaps, it was for the best, mused Sanji.

The archaeologist had searched for her true family for a long time and on the way had been forced
to hurt many innocents to survive. He could empathize with Robin-chan’s wish for atonement. In
this way, Robin might finally let go of her last ounce of guilt and self-hatred. He trusted that Vivi-
chan would welcome Robin warmly. The older woman had no island to call home anymore.
Besides the Sunny, Alabasta could become her permanent residence if she so chose.

The next to follow after Robin’s departure was Chopper.

When they reached Drum Island, the little doctor insisted he wouldn’t cry because he was an adult
now. But clearly, he was trying hard to hold back his tears and was going to self-suffocate soon.
The crew sent an accusing glare to the marimo, the sole source of bad influence on Chopper’s
understanding of masculinity. The swordsman let out a sigh as he knelt down before the little
reindeer and pat his head gently. After Zoro told him it was okay for a man to cry manly tears that
Chopper let out a long wail and wet the marimo’s green coat with his tears and snot.

Their best doctor disappeared into the island’s eternal snow with a big smile, even his eyes were
little puffy.

They continued the sail to the last natural barricade that separated Grand Line from the four Blues.
At the small island where there was the waiting scarred whale, Brook politely asked to depart.
Everyone knew the reason and Brook was ready. He had been waiting for this moment for
decades.

Laboon made the happiest call, and the skeleton musician sent the Sunny off with Binge Sake. It
was one of his best plays; the song of gratitude.

It was just the six of them on the Sunny now.

Usopp’s face lighted up instantly when he saw Kaya and the island’s children waiting for the
Sunny to dock.

To others, Usopp was the bravest warrior of the sea now, but to his Nakama, they still saw in him
the lingering awkwardness from his youth that he hadn't managed to grow out. He still cried his
heart out and told lies.

But no longer was he a weak.

Usopp’s dream was that he could become a person he could be proud of. There were no tangible
things awaiting him at the end to let him know that his dream was completed. He had to constantly
battle with his weakness. He had worked the hardest than any of them all. Seeing his confident
smile now as he was embracing the woman he loved, whom he promised to become strong for,
Sanji couldn’t help but be happy with Usopp's triumph.

So long, long-nosed kun.

Nami chose to stay on the ship. After a stop at her island to catch up with her sister, Nami-san
decided she would continue to sail with Luffy.

“I can work on my map anywhere and to sail around the world again is a good opportunity to go
back to the old map to correct minor mistakes. I want it to be perfect,” Nami explained, patting the
excited Luffy’s head to calm him down. Nami and Luffy had shared one of the most special bond
with each other. Sanji should be jealous of the rubber bastard, but he couldn't. It was unfortunate
that he loved them both equally and if there was anyone he trusted to look after Luffy, it would be
Nami, and vice versa.

“Adventure!” Luffy shouted.

“And adventures promise more treasure!” Nami’s eyes gave out the berry sign.

“Super! I will stay on the ship too!” Franky chorused.

Everyone turned to look at him. The cyborg shrugged, “a shipwright stays with his ship. Besides, I
don’t trust Luffy not to sink my precious Sunny. Nami-sis might supervise him but she is going to
be busy with her map!”

The new trio patted each other's shoulders, excited for their new journey.

Seeing them this happy made Sanji want to announce that he too would stay on the ship, for Nami-
swan’s sake of course, but he was no longer a hormonal brat and shouldn't be acting childish in
front of Nami-san, so he quietly excused himself to his kitchen to prepare food for the remaining
crewmates. It would last them a week after his departure if they weren’t too glutton. Each departing
member got Sanji’s pirate bento boxes of their favourites. Marimo would disembark shortly after
him so he made him a bento as well. It was his last duty as their cook, anyway.

In the evening, Nami-san came to tell him in the kitchen that they would be reaching the Baratie
within the next day. He thanked her as he always did.

Sanji chose to sleep in the kitchen that night.

3.

The familiar floating establishment was still going strong like some stubborn old man he had
known so well.

Sanji made sure that the kitchen and the galley were in their best condition and everything was in
the right place, including his cooking recipe which was placed neatly on the galley's table, so
Nami-san wouldn’t have a problem in feeding that bottomless rubber man, much.

The Baratie’s decks were void of people. The cooks might be busy inside the restaurant to notice
the lion-headed ship coming to their way which actually wasn’t a surprise. Sanji didn’t send a
messenger bird to inform the old man that he was coming home. It wasn't like the old man wanted
to throw a welcome-back party for him anyway. He would bark at Sanji to get back to work, that
was more like his old geezer.

With his duffel bag in one hand, and a leather bag of his beloved knives in the other, Sanji turned
to see the crew who had gathered on board of the Sunny to send him off, everyone was there
except the certain swordsman. The idiot might still be asleep in the crow nest, the insensible
Neanderthal.

“You’ve got everything, right? ‘Cause I will not turn the ship back to return it to you,” Nami said.
She was so beautiful, he couldn’t resist but to drop his belongings and gave her the love cook’s
noodle dance. She rolled her eyes but couldn’t find in herself to be annoyed. To be honest, she
hadn’t been for a long time but for the sake of keeping the tradition, she scolded him to stop his
perversion anyway.

“I’ve got everything, don’t worry, Nami-swann <3” replied the cook. He pressed his hand on his
breast pocket where he kept his precious navigator’s map to the All Blue and smiled at his
crewmates. “If you all have time, come to the All Blue – that is where the Baratie will be heading
to, and where it will stay!”

“Will I have the largest slice of the cake!?” Luffy yelled, eyes shining with excitement. Back then,
Sanji had no clue what he was babbling about. Luffy usually loved meat more than sweets. But he
just tossed it into a mental category of his captain being a weirdo.

After a few exchanges of threats with the guys that they would take good care of Nami-san for
him, Sanji decided it was time to get going.

I guess he will not come down to see me off, then. Sanji shook his head. He knew Zoro was not a
big fan of emotions and he refused to feel a pang of heartache for not being able to see the
mosshead one last time.

“Oi, Luffy,”
“Hmm, what is it, Sanji?”

A pair of strangers - they had become something so much more because of Luffy. The unfortunate
turn of fate that he was secretly grateful for because he couldn’t hope that their paths would cross
for the second time.

We might not see each other again for the rest of our lives, you moron.

Sanji lit up a cig like he always did when he was hesitating. A pause to inhale the smoke always
helped clear his head as he made up his mind.

“Just—you will always be my Captain, remember that. If you need me, I will be there.” Luffy’s
eyes were shining too brightly. Sanji hurriedly added, “emergency only, asshole. Meat running out
doesn’t count!”

“Boo. You are stingy, Sanji.” Deflated but quickly bounced back to his cheerful self, Luffy
grinned, “I will miss you both!!”

Sadly, Sanji didn’t hear his last sentence. The cook had already jumped off the ship.

4.

He had watched the Sunny getting smaller and smaller from the Baratie’s docking board, cracked a
humourless smile and finished his smoke so he could get inside the patio where marimo was
tapping his boots impatiently, by his side sat the bento that Sanji made for him last night.

“Took you fucking long. Have you got lost on the way, Curly?” grumbled the waiting mosshead.

“Shut up!! I will not be insulted by you with your fuck-up sense of direction!” Sanji shouted back
automatically.

Wait.

...The moss was here. At Baratie.

What.

“What the fuck are you doing here, you prehistoric seaweed!?” Sanji shrieked as the moss gave
him an unimpressed stare.

Then, a realization dawned on the chef.

“Fuck, you direction-challenged ass got lost again, didn’t you?! Did you try to find a toilet or
something—Wait! The Sunny is gone!”

“Oi, Cook, calm your tits. I…” Zoro’s attempt to explain got cut out by the sound of water splashed
as the cook abruptly jumped into the sea below. In his panic, the desperate man must have
forgotten that he could fly and opted to swim to get to the ship.

“Nami-swannnn! Please come back to collect the moss!!”

“Idiot,” The swordsman muttered.

Now he had to wait for curly to come to his sense that he could skywalk, and that would be too late
for him to reach the Sunny. In short, Zoro would be sitting here for a while. So, Zoro decided to
help himself with the blonde’s pirate bento. Seeing his favourite onigiri balls displaying on the
lunch box, Zoro quickly felt better. He hummed as he ate his delicious meal.

5.

Zoro’s good mood was ruined immediately after the soaking blonde climbed back on the ship and
started screaming at him like a banshee.

“If you have fucking stood still for a minute and let me explain to you, you wouldn’t have been
soaking wet like a dirty rag. This is your’s fault, not mine, shit cook,” Zoro argued calmly, still
having no fucking idea what he had done wrong to piss the cook off. Zoro didn’t force him to
swim, why did he get the blame for Sanji's stupidity? The unreasonable bastard.

Sanji, still dripping wet, managed to look ablaze with fury.

“Get out of my ship!!!”

“This isn’t your ship!!! And, you are in no position to boss me around, shit cook.”

Sanji was frustrated. He didn’t understand it at all. Even Zoro told him that he wasn't lost and
chose to disembark on the Baratie of his own free will, marimo had failed to clarify to him why he
decided to be dropped off with Sanji, of all people.

“I don’t get it. What are you doing here? What do you want, mosshead?” Sanji asked and saw
something interesting.

Zoro stubbornly kept his mouth shut, crossed his chest, refused to meet his eyes, and glared at
anything and everything but Sanji. He looked agitated by the most neutral and logical question.
And you see, Sanji had been there through the marimo’s evolution. The swordsman’s body
language tended to switch between the nonchalant and offensive streams nowadays. It was rare for
Zoro to take a defensive stance, that, unless the marimo was guilty, or hiding something, or both.

Sanji narrowed his eyes.

He could throttle the man and squeeze the truth out of him right here, right now. But Sanji was
wet, and cold, and tired. A crowd of nosy customers and waiters was starting to gather. It wouldn’t
be long until Patty and Carne heard about the fuss and came to goad at Sanji and he refused to be a
laughingstock of the assholes on the first day he came home. Farewell, his plan for the grandeur
return, no thanks to marimo. Now, it was time for damage control.

Heaving out a sigh, Sanji gestured the swordsman to follow him inside the floating restaurant. He
had so much explanation to do.

6.

Zoro refused to leave Baratie for secret reasons that the moss stubbornly refused to give to the
cook.

Sanji gave up and let him do as he pleased. There were other important issues that needed Sanji’s
attention than gardening a moss ball anyway.

And five years had rolled by.

7.

Zoro disappeared from time to time like a stray cat. His absence was short-lived and before Sanji
knew that marimo had gone, he was back to demand Sanji to feed him again.

The longest disappearance of him was when he had paid a visit to his childhood friend’s grave for
two months. It was the only time that he told Sanji where he was going to wander. At that time,
Sanji was busying with the arrangement to move the Baratie to All Blue.

“If you don’t come back on time, we will leave without you, asshole.”

It was annoyance and exhaustion from fighting about every single detail with shitty Zeff that made
him say that to Zoro who growled back before disappearing.

He didn’t think about anything until he got back to his bedroom, bone-tired, only to find that the
shitty marimo had foolishly forgotten his two swords, Shusui and Kitetsu on Sanji’s fucking bed.

Needless to say, Sanji was pissed. The shitty bastard would never find his own way to the All
Blue, that meant Sanji would have no choice but to wait to return them to the swordsman. How
could this be happening to him? How dare he did compromise Sanji’s plan by his recklessness and
stupidity? He placed the swords on the side of his bed, he would toss them into the sea tomorrow.

"Don't worry. When he comes back, he will be on the seafloor with you."

Sanji had spent every day keeping the swords oiled and sharp for their irresponsible master as if he
wasn’t busy enough.

“When that bastard comes back, I will, oh, I will definitely fillet and feed him to the old geezer.
Those two have turned my life into a living hell,” Sanji revealed his sinister plan to Shusui while
carefully wiping the blade with an oilcloth. He'd gotten comfortable enough to unburden his shitty
days to the sword. It way better behaved than the other one, Kitetsu, the temperamental sword
which hadn’t stopped trying to cut Sanji since day one, even he was the one who was keeping it
away from rust, ungrateful like its master.

“When I kill him, you will need a new master. I believe Wano would be pleased to have you back
or you still could go to that beautiful marine lady. But not you,” he addressed Kitetsu which was
laid innocently on Sanji’s bed. Sanji glared at it. “You go to the bottom of the ocean.”

Marimo, miraculously, came back on the very last minute of the departure. “You are late!” Sanji
poked at his chest. The beast glowered back and made a beeline to collect his swords from Sanji’s
bedroom. The first thing he did was to unsheathe and examine each of them, uncaring that the cook
was still watching. Sanji just wanted marimo to get out of his room and was not feeling anxious at
all about what he might think of Sanji's sword-maintenance skills. Zoro might notice something
when his eye widened a little. He had an unreadable expression but said nothing.

“The next time, I will toss them overboard,” Sanji threatened.

“And I will sink this ship, shit cook,” the ungrateful swordsman barked back.
8.

It was the eighth month since the Baratie had its first opening day on the All Blue but almost a
year that a certain swordsman had stayed in the restaurant.

A lot of things had happened, like Sanji becoming the owner and head chef of the restaurant.

Sanji was working in his office. It was a peaceful day with him and his paperwork. But today, Sanji
felt optimistic that he could clear his administrating duty and go help in the kitchen. Of course, the
old man chose this moment to annoy him.

Zeff put his peg leg on the desk, demanding Sanji’s attention. “The swordsman of yours- is he
staying for good, Eggplant?”

Sanji removed his reading glasses, brows furrowed. He scoffed at the senile old man. “What are
you talking about, old geezer? How the hell do I know?”

Zeff decided it would be wise for him to sit down on a chair because talking some sense into the
stupid Eggplant was going to take time.

“When was the last time you visited the kitchen, boy?”

“A month ago, I think? Look, if you retired ass care enough to help me with this shitty paperwork,
I won’t be stuck in here all day. But, I make sure the moss doesn’t cause a problem- what’s the
fuss?”

“It isn’t my fault that you suck, you brat. But a chef’s place is in his kitchen for a reason- that he is
to keep his eyes on his cooks,” Zeff said sagely, “Your ‘staff’ have been wondering why are they
working their asses off, but that swordsman does nothing all day but still being pampered by you.”

“What do they expect me to do, force him to work? That’s ridiculous." Sanji shuddered at the idea.
"Marimo can’t cook, clean, wait or run errands without getting lost! And I DIDN’T pamper him.
The alcoholic moss will go rampage without three meals and booze. If anything, I’m protecting the
ship.”

Zeff shrugged, “I don’t care for your shitty reasons to coddle him. What that matters is that you
aren’t setting a very good precedent. Rumours are like fishes, shitty Eggplant. If they stay too long,
they rot. Either you give him a shitty job to shut the rumour mill down, or you better show them
why he is a fucking exception.”

Sanji pursed his lips, a little hurt that his new crew didn't have faith in him as much as they trusted
Zeff. The staff was questioning his leadership, huh? He might have been absent from the kitchen
far too long. There were many new faces in the kitchen that he didn’t recognize; they were
recruited after him becoming the head chef. He guessed it was the new lot that ran their mouth off,
they weren’t there when the Merry docked and knew who the Strawhats were to this restaurant.

“Ah, I think I did overhear one bastard said the swordsman was useless too,” Zeff commented
evenly.

At that, Sanji abruptly stood up.

“I suppose in my busyness, I have failed to train the newbies the art of tending a marimo. Alright
then, I will go to give them a lesson.”
Zeff quickly hid his victorious smile.

From what Patty described to him later, the young head chef did make his point understood in the
most unforgettable way. The blonde marched straight into the kitchen, his presence was more than
enough to make the staff stop their work and gather. Sanji placed his leg on one of the cooking
stations, the cooks saw how it heated up, glowering red like the leg of the devil himself and with a
swift move, Sanji cut the kitchen station in half as easy as he cut a block of butter.

If anyone had doubts what this was all about, at this point he would be crystal-clear now that their
head chef, the Black-Leg, was fucking furious.

“Marimo might be as useless as a ballast. But, he is an honourable ballast of my restaurant. Got it?
Those who are doubtful of my authority here, feel free to meet me at the docks outside, so I can
toss you overboard. Or, so help me. get back to your damn work, you nosy bastards!!!”

That’s my boy. Zeff gave out a proud smirk. The owner’s word was the law; don’t like it, then piss
off. He had been worried about Eggplant taking over the business. He might be stronger than Zeff,
but he was so inexperienced in dealing with unruly subordinates and being a member of a pirate
ship that abandoned hierarchy didn't help his case at all. He knew Eggplant would let the gossip
about himself go. He wouldn’t do anything when they badmouthed him, always too kind for his
own damn good. Attacks on his friends, precisely a certain greenhead, on the other hand, would
make him boil with rage. It was a godsend push to have the boy finally fucking act.

“He was fucking terrifying,” Patty chuckled, “I saw a few newbies pissed themselves.”

Zeff snorted.

“But really, a ballast? How fucking hard it is to just say ‘he is my partner, now fuck off’.”

As Zeff suspected, the Eggplant had no brain.

9.

Two years after the disbandment, Zoro’s hair had been getting ridiculously long, he was more like
a clump of seaweed than a marimo now, so Sanji offered out of his kind heart, to cut it for him. He
expected Zoro to deny but surprisingly, he accepted.

So, here they were, in Sanji’s bathroom, (the Marimo's guestroom didn't have a bathroom, he had
always used Sanji's), Zoro sat obediently on a chair facing the wall, naked from the waist up and
completely at Sanji's mercy. The swordsman had his eye closed and let cook trim his hair as he
pleased.

“Your hair is soft,” the cook said, his tone accusing. “Have you been using my shampoo,
Marimo?”

“Why would the hell I want to steal the shampoo that smells disgustingly sweet? It’s like trying to
get clean with sugar,” snorted the caveman whose knowledge of hygiene consisted of a bar of soap
and a weekly bath.

“Don’t insult the hand that feeds you and is tending your green garden right now, idiot. I could kill
you.” Sanji warned. Zoro made an annoying sound in his throat and went silent.
“Hey, Zoro.”

Zoro hadn't responded. Either he was listening or he fell asleep, Sanji didn't really mind - he was in
the mood for conversations. “This is really weird. Surreal. I mean us. Spending our retirement
together. Could you believe it?”

“What are you talking about? You are still working like a maniac, shitty cook.”

The cook’s hands were working on the swordsman’s head, nimble fingers gently combing knots for
a scissor to make a precise cut. Then, he spoke,

“Don’t play stupid. Of course, I have to work! I have a whole crew plus a moss to feed.”

“Just admit that you are a pervert, a chain smoker and now a workaholic.”

“I will admit no such thing and you know what I meant about the retirement. I never expected that
we would get what we have dreamed of... this fast. I used to believe that this was a life-long quest,
that we would go grey before finding the One Piece, and I had been prepared for that..." With a
hesitant pause, Sanji continued, "I was so convinced that either you or I, or the both of us, would
die trying to make Luffy the pirate king.” He finished in a soft whispering tone.

Zoro opened his eye but the cook didn't see it.

He understood what the blonde was trying to say.

They had prepared to spend the rest of their lives for the crew, even to give up on their dreams or
their lives for them. To the point that they had forgotten to plan how to live on their own
afterwards when there was no crew to protect.

"Scissors." Zoro opened his hand, one eye looking intensely at the scissors in Sanji's hand.

"What?" Sanji asked. He just finished trimming the moss. Was the swordsman not satisfied with
the result? Well, he could piss off.

"Give me your scissors," repeated the moss in a full sentence. Sanji held the scissors tighter. "But
why?"

"I can cut your dried straw for you. It's getting longer too." Zoro pointed at Sanji's hair which he
kept in a loose ponytail. Realizing marimo's true intention, Sanji was horrified. "Don't you dare
come closer to me."

"What? You get to cut my hair but I can't? This is unfair," he huffed, being petulant.

"It isn't about fairness, marimo-kun. It's about aesthetics which you do not possess. Now, shoo. Go
fishing or nap, whatever you do in your free time."

"Fishing. I can't take a nap, your old man never stops nagging me."

Oh, was this how the old geezer spent his time on when he wasn't trading insults with Sanji-
annoying Zoro? Sanji could live with that.

"Great. I think yesterday we had such a good catch. There was a Blue-Finned Elephant Tuna too.
Trying to catch something interesting like that, marimo."

Somehow, Zoro's scowl had gotten deeper. The swordsman turned his back and stomped off the
room, muttered angrily to himself.
"Tsk, It was my catch, you shitty bastard."
 Chapter 2
Chapter Notes

Thank you very much for kudos and comments. It really made my day!!

10.

Zoro gritted his teeth as he harshly grabbed his fishing rod and bucket before storming off to his
usual fishing spot on the ship, at the backdoor behind the Fish’s tail where no one could bother
him.

Knowing that his killing intent could scatter fishes away, Zoro tried to cool down his temper and
started his routine of the day. Right, fishing.

Zoro liked fishing. It was a kind of job that he could do it alone. He also could meditate while
waiting for fish to swallow the bait. Sometimes he caught some weird fishes that seemed to be the
all-blue-only new species according to a certain overexcited cook.

So, Zoro kinda liked fishing.

Still, that bastard never gave proper thanks to him for his laborious work. It was infuriating.

Zoro had been fishing since the ship first dropped its anchor on All Blue. He supposed he should
try to be useful somehow. Baratie was the first restaurant to open on this legendary ocean.
Understandably, there was no fisherman to be found around here and they had to fish by
themselves to have enough supplies for running the restaurant. But when the news got out, many
customers and fishermen started to arrive and Baratie was more than glad to share the abundance
of All Blue with them.

He once witnessed a fisherman presented what supposed to be a new kind of clams that his ship
found in a less explored part of All Blue to the cook, and Sanji didn’t stop gushing over the
mollusks. It was just a stupid clam which to Zoro, looked and tasted the same. How such a thing
coaxed the rare genuine smile from Sanji, he didn’t understand. That day, Zoro was so worried that
he was developing a serious case of heart disease because it didn’t stop fluttering at the cook’s
smile.

He looks young with that smile.

That incident somehow made Zoro consider tagging along with one of the fishermen’s boats. He
could always ask (albeit, demand) the fishermen that came to sell their goods to the Baratie every
morning to let him join their night fishing. Or, let he borrow one of their boats and maybe a fishing
net, a harpoon, baits and a freezer tank to keep his catch fresh because the cook was such a prissy
who never settled for anything but the best. The fishermen couldn’t deny him, could they? There
were only so many fishes you could catch with a rod but the interesting batches seemed to be
residing in the deeper and farther ocean.
The first time that Zoro sailed with the fisherman, the captain who was an old sailor told him that
Zoro was one lucky bastard.

“It isn’t every day that a newbie could catch a good fish on their day one, boy. I think the sea loves
you,” said the old man with a worrying case of tooth decay from heavy drinking.

I don’t really care if it loves me or not. That was what Zoro was thinking but didn’t say it out loud
because he was examining the ugliest fish he’d just caught. It looked more like a nightmarish kind
of beasts than edible seafood but everyone on the ship was excited, swearing that they never saw
this bastard before. So, Zoro was quite optimistic that it was a new species. He came back to the
floating restaurant in a good mood, expecting the cook to lose his cool, worship Zoro's ground and
tell Zoro how he was better and wiser than him.

The cook was literally hyperventilating.

But he fucking gave the praise to a random young fisherman because he appeared to the one at the
decks watching over the fish to be transported into the kitchen for Zoro who had wandered out in
search of a drink after a long night. The cook just had to take this fucking moment to crawl out of
the woodwork when Zoro wasn’t there.

His thunder was fucking stolen and that sonofabitch who took his credit had the gut to blush at the
cook’s compliment, utterly charmed by his vibrant smile.

Zoro threw the brat overboard and walked away before the stunned cook could come back to his
sense and screech at him which was exactly what Sanji did later when he found out that marimo
raided his wine collection.

Zoro swore he won’t let the cook walk away unpunished. Shitty curly. Stupid unappreciative
bastard with a stupider goatee. I’ll show you.

Zoro emptied a bucket of fish onto Sanji’s bed that night.

Then, he boarded the fisherman’s ship, demanding the man to make the journey as long as
possible.

The same old fisherman annoyingly sympathized with him, saying that the sea was the only place
to which he could escape his wife’s wrath too. He got it all wrong but Zoro was too mad to correct
him.

He didn’t fucking flee.

He was Roronoa Zoro, the greatest swordsman alive, strong as two thousand men combined, he
didn’t run away from anyone. He just - needed a private time for himself, to think about
something…important.

11.

Zoro used to have absolute confidence in how to read the cook. He knew him like the back of his
hand.
He knew the cook would be on his way to protect their Nakama when they were in danger.

He knew he could trust Sanji to have his back in battles.

He knew he would come up with a plan that could turn the table around.

He knew that despite his threats, the wellbeing of the crew was Sanji’s top priority, and the cook
would always keep them healthy.

That was the Sanji he had known: the cook, the tactical fight of their trio, and the left-hand man of
the Pirate King.

But, when there was no life at stake, no battle to be engaged, when there were just the two of them
- navigating the mundane life day by day, Zoro discovered that he had just entered the uncharted
waters, where everything about them was so foreign and unclear.

And so, Zoro started to feel ‘less’ confident in his shit-cook-reading ability.

At the beginning of them staying together, the cook threatened to leave for All Blue without Zoro
if he missed the ship, and Zoro had no idea if Sanji really meant what he said. He did go back to
his recollection of the cook’s bizarre language and how to decrypt it, trying to find an adequate
reference to counteract, but came back emptyhanded. Nothing. Nothing could guarantee that the
cook wasn’t going to leave him. There was no crew nor ship to be the reason for them to stick
together anymore. The cook had no obligation or whatsoever to wait for Zoro.

So, he decided to leave Shusui and Kitetsu on the cook’s bed.

For a safety measure, in cases, he unintentionally took a detour in his travel and couldn’t make it
back on time for the Baratie’s departure.

It was a well-calculated plan. Now, there was just a handful of people out there that were worthy of
him wielding his three swords at once. Wado would be more than enough to knock out some
rookie swordsmen. Moreover, he knew Sanji. This was the territory he was familiar with. The cook
wouldn’t take any risks, smaller as they seemed if he knew his action would render his Nakama
defenseless, or in Zoro’s case not in his 100% best. The cook would have no choice but to wait.

Zoro was contented in this knowledge when he visited Shimotsuki Village even he knew he was
going to get kicked by the angry cook later.

The only downside of the plan, however, was that his swords would be sitting still without good
maintenance during his absence. He felt a bit guilty for leaving them alone but he knew they would
be fine. The cook might be bitchy but they learned to respect each other’s weapons a long time ago.
He expected that Sanji might move them around, perhaps tucking them back into the corner of
Zoro's room and letting them stay there until Zoro’s return, but he wouldn’t do anything to damage
them.

To come back to them being well cared and laid on the right side of the cook’s bed like they were
precious to Sanji, Zoro was—

-Zoro was speechless.

As he laid down on his makeshift bed on the fisherman’s boat, sailing farther away from Baratie
tonight, Zoro admitted to himself that for the first time in his life, he was clueless of what he
wanted, or to be precise, what did he want from Sanji.

12.

“I don’t see what’s wrong with the fucking fish. They are fresh,” Zeff grumbled, standing at Sanji's
doorstep. The old man looked moody from having been woke up by Sanji’s scream that he swore
could be heard on the whole damn establishment.

“Fresh?! FRESH?! Is that all you care about, you senile old sea-dog!” Sputtered Sanji. “Fucking
unbelievable -- There are the fucking fish on my BED!”

Zeff scratched his head and yawned. “Whatever, Eggplant. Just put them in the fridge before you
go to bed. We don’t waste food here.”

The Eggplant let out a groan, tearing his hair, as he looked desperately at his poor favourite blue
pillow which was stained by fishy mucilage. There was no hope for it to be salvaged.

“I’m going to fucking kill him!!!” screamed again the blonde, enraged. “What the hell is wrong
with him? Is this how he thanks someone who feeds him?!”

Zeff shrugged, “Dunno. It seems to me you are the one who owes him an apology.”

Sanji turned to glare at his adoptive father. “What’s kind of nonsense you are spilling, shitty
geezer? Why should I apologize to someone who soiled my bed!?”

“Did you know who caught that ugly fish for you today, boy?”

Sanji frowned at the sudden topic-changing, “It was marimo.”

“So, you know.”

Zeff, then, gave Sanji a disappointing look which Sanji didn’t like because it made him feel like a
child again. He didn’t understand why he was being scolded by the old man when clearly it was
marimo’s fault.

“So what? Look, I don’t follow how these two incidents are related and why should I be blamed.
What’s more important is, where the hell am I going to sleep tonight?”

Zeff rolled his eyes, giving up on the lost cause. “You are an asshole, you know that. Well,
goodnight.” At that, he went back to his quarters and slammed the door shut. He was too old to
play a fucking matchmaker for two idiots at two in the morning. This was not the kind of
retirement he was fucking looking for.

After a futile attempt to sleep in his own room, the fishy smell was too unbearable so he gave up.
Sanji had no choice but to sleep in the only vacant room tonight which belonged to a certain
mosshead. Zeff’s words were still bothering him and the fainted odour that smelled like sweat and
sea salt which came from the bedding did little to help Sanji to sleep.

He replayed the morning incident that Zeff implied was the reason for marimo going nut. He did
remember Zoro throwing the poor fisher-boy overboard.

It was common that Baratie shared the catch with the fishermen who caught it, inviting them to eat
and drink on the house as a payment for their hardworking.

Was marimo being possessive of…the meat?

But it was a big fish! Sanji’s frown got deeper. There was no reason for him to be jealous of the
poor fisherman’s share in the catch. Sanji was a fair person. He always gave Zoro the best cut and
his good sake whenever he came back with some good fish. That had always been enough to power
the man. Why not this time?

Marimo looked pissed after seeing Sanji talking to the fisherman, though.

“He is young and it was his first sailing. He was quite afraid of the unknown water so I just gave
him a push to explore the sea. How could this piss him off? He was being unreasonable,” Sanji
mumbled to the moss’s pillow.

Did marimo just want his praise? Sanji immediately snorted at the thought.

That is laughable. Zoro isn’t a man who fletches for compliments…and he has never wanted my
appreciation before.

That didn’t sound like the Zoro he’d known.

He is an insensitive, drunken, uncultured marimo-head oaf.

But also he is the same person who is stern, uncompromising, and loyal.

It was always him who stood by Luffy’s side, always loyal and always ready his swords to deliver
the captain’s wishes.

No one on the Sunny doubted that the swordsman was their first mate and the second in command
to Luffy. Usopp may be joking about being the vice-captain once or twice and Sanji was constantly
challenging Zoro’s leadership but that title rightfully belonged to Zoro from the start. Zoro didn’t
care about any titles that were not ‘the strongest swordsman’ and neither everyone on the ship who
had become pirates just to be free. But when Luffy’s playfulness started to get in a way to his
dream, it was always Zoro who firmly reminded Luffy of his ambition and steered him back on the
righteous path.

That is our swordsman.

It was pointless to sugarcoat the fact that at one point they did hate each other.

They were just teenagers when they first met, just two hot-headed and prideful teenagers whose
paths could never be more different. Naturally, they crashed. Even they overcome their pride and
became Nakama afterwards, nothing about them was gentle. If there was a genuine concern, it was
well hidden among taunts and violence that found the very ground of their relationship; it had been
like this since the walk on Arlong Park.

However, more than that, their rivalry -- it was necessary. They both realized it was never easy for
the rookie’s ship full of kids and teenagers to command respect from the likes of older and vicious
pirates. Luffy was strong but he was too carefree. So, the burden of looking after the newly formed
crew was placed on the shoulder of them who were the ‘men’ of the group.

The stake was high and the danger was real. Zoro was right when he told them that this wasn’t a
pirate game. Each of the crew had placed their dreams on the ship. They had to make it work,
whatever it took. Sanji was prepared to sacrifice his life for their dream, but besides Luffy, how
could Sanji trust someone but himself with this responsibility?

Unfortunately, the green-haired bastard thought the very same thing.

Fighting, thus, was the only way of testing the other’s strength whether they were strong enough to
have the other's respect -- that Sanji was worthy in Zoro's eyes to lead the crew during Luffy's
absence and vice versa. Then, it had transformed, slowly becoming a way to reassure themselves
that the other still got everything under control, that they were getting stronger, that they were
doing their jobs.

He didn’t know since when. It was perhaps during one of their many fights that Sanji came to the
realization that he was glad that he didn’t have to shoulder the responsibility alone because he had
him. He always had Zoro.

13.

They had somehow created the ‘roles’.

The cook. He was always the voice of conscience for their captain; it was his job to prevent him
from making a decision he would regret, like the time at Water Seven.

Zoro knew he, himself, would follow Luffy to hell without a complaint, but not Sanji. Sanji would
go to hell too but not without letting them know how stupid their plan was. He may act on his
heart’s call most of the time but he was also the most kindhearted and honourable man, and the
ship needed to have someone to stand up to the captain’s order, to voice concerns for the sake of
the ship and its crew. Luffy was a good kid but he was ridiculously young when he was a captain of
a ship that was growing famous each day. True that the other crewmates weren’t shy to make their
opinions known to Luffy but they needed someone with the strength to put a stop on the rubber
man when he was being too insufferable.

Only the cook could do it. Only the cook that Zoro could trust with their captain’s heart – that
Sanji would keep the man whom they decided to follow to the end of the world from being
corrupted by power and fame like other great men before him.

That was how they had projected themselves for the crew and the world to see. When Zoro
struggled to overcome his weakness and almost died, Sanji didn’t meddle. When the past caught
up with Sanji, forcing the cook to leave, Zoro didn’t come to ‘rescue’ him. It was in their
unspoken code that they didn’t interfere with the other’s problems, didn’t attempt to offer
protection because it would risk the other looking weak. How the hell their captain could
command respect from the world when his two best fighters let themselves be vulnerable, even for
a moment?

And for a long time, these were their unspoken codes, their vows for the crew.
To be the unshakeable pillars and to protect them

To stand always by their captain’s side.

And to not stand together but to stand by the crew.

14.

Three weeks later, Zoro came back. It was way past midnight and everyone was already asleep. As
quiet as possible, Zoro passed the hallway to his quarters, he stopped briefly at Sanji’s room but
decided not to knock. He had no reason to wake the blonde up.

When he turned on the light in his room, Sanji poked his sleepy head out of the blanket to look at
him.

Zoro yelped and plastered himself to his wardrobe.

“What the hell are you doing in my room?!”

“Don’t you know what time is it, marimo? Shut your trap before you wake everyone up!”

The two glared at each other for five minutes before Zoro huffed and turned his back on Sanji to
pull clean clothes out from the closet to change. Sanji was grinning triumphantly because he just
won the staring contest.

“Go back to your room, blondie,” Zoro grumbled.

Instead of getting out, the cook scooted over to the left side of the bed, making a room that Zoro
supposed was to be his spot to sleep tonight. He hesitated but decided to fuck it and sat down as
Sanji looked at him with an unreadable expression.

Sanji’s room was now clean but he didn’t know before that marimo’s bed could be very
comfortable. He had slept on it since its owner’s disappearance and he didn’t plan to return it to
Zoro soon, especially not tonight when he was too comfy to get up. He had made up his mind.

“No. My room still smells like a fish tank.” Sanji lied naturally.

“…Sorry about that.”

“…Apology accepted, I guess,” Sanji said, albeit hesitantly, feeling awkward at the unprecedented
situation. He didn’t expect the moss to feel guilty and apologize. Now, it was Sanji’s turn to feel
the guilt. Zoro, on the other hand, let out a sigh of relief, like he just got something off his chest.
Feeling comfortable, marimo lied down on the bed, closed his eye, preparing to sleep.

“The fish - that one you caught before you fled the night – it was really good, you know,” Sanji
murmured, suddenly realizing that Zoro had just come back after having been away for three
weeks straight because of that stupid fish incident.

“I didn’t flee!” exclaimed the affronted marimo.

“Sure, sure. You just had to hurriedly disappear for three weeks.”

They let the light banter clear away the suffocating air of awkwardness. The comfortable silence
filled the room again.
“What have you been eaten for three weeks?”

“Fish.”

Sanji snorted at the man’s curt answer. “Elaborate, idiot.”

Zoro changed his sleep position to sleep on his left side and met with Sanji’s eyes staring
expectedly at him in the dark. “We kept it simple," He began. " We ate what we caught. Sashimi
was the easiest one to make, so we had it often. I missed rice though, we ran out of it on the second
week - didn’t expect we had to take a longer route to get back.”

At Sanji’s pained expression, Zoro regretted to not keep his trap shut. “But! But I never had the
same fish for meals. There are too many fishes out there...I brought several kinds back with me, the
old fisherman said they might be new species. They are in the refrigerator now, you can check for
yourself in the morning.”

Sanji could see marimo’s blush when he started to stutter. He couldn’t help but smile. “Thank you,
Zoro.”

Zoro made a weird noise in his throat like he was being choked.

“…Anyway, you should go out to see them by yourself. It’s unbelievable that you are living on the
ocean of your dream but choose to lock your ass in the restaurant every day. Shame you, cook.”

“Fuck you, and you unemployed ass, marimo,” the cook hissed, hitting Zoro with his pillow. “But
you are right. I should take a vacation.” Turning to lay on his back, Sanji reached both of his hand
up and started to gesture wildly, excited at the thought, “I will go explore my All Blue. I will swim
all day, and I will discover more new species than you.”

Zoro laughed, “You are on, curly. I bet I could catch more fishes than you.”

“In your dream, moss head.”

“…”

“…”

“Hey, Zoro. Good night - glad to have you back,” Sanji said in a hushed tone.

“ ’Night, love-cook. Glad to be back.” Whispered back Zoro as he closed his eye.

It was a long road for them, but trying to be genuine about their feeling was perhaps a good start
for now.

15.

Among the Strawhats, Zoro seemed to have the largest number of challengers coming for him.
Robin had been writing to them, keeping them updated about what the others were doing. Usually,
it was Sanji who wrote back to the archaeologist, soaking the letter with his sloppy kisses before
sending, much to the messenger bird’s dismay. Zoro heard from Robin that Luffy had recently
complained about boredom and not having a good wrestle for a while, which made Zoro recall that
the number of people wanting the cook’s bounty was quite underrated compared to him. It had
been bugging him for a while so he decided to write to Robin about this question. If there was
someone who had answers to anything, it would be Robin.

Robin wrote back three days later. Zoro took it from Sanji’s pile of letters and decided to read it on
the sofa in the blonde’s office. In the letter, she wrote,

“Dear Swordsman-san. I’m very pleased to hear from you personally. It has been four years since
we last met. I’m glad that cook-san and you are still doing wonderful (Zoro snorted at her
delusional statement but kept reading). Regarding your question, I have a hypothesis (Of course,
you do – noted Zoro). See, let’s compare your situation with our Pirate King. Luffy’s title, Pirate
King, is granted to the person who discovers One Piece. Even if he is defeated, and that is to
assume that someone could possibly take down our invincible captain, it cannot be taken away
from him. However, I think most pirates would avoid fighting him at their best. It’s a wise decision.

Your title as the greatest swordsman, on the other hand, is claimable. Moreover, you are the
second in command to the Pirate King and have the highest bounty that is second only to Luffy. If I
were a rookie pirate wanting to make a name for myself, trying to take you down would be more
fruitful than chasing after the other Strawhats. It’s a shortcut to fame.

And for cook-san’s underrated number of challengers, I think not many have an idea about Sanji’s
true strength. The espionage missions he did for us has kept him away from the spotlight and those
who used to fight him tell no tales…”

Zoro paused. He had never considered it this way before. To him, the cook was in any respect,
equal. He thought Robin was right, though. Normal folks might really believe Sanji was just a cook
whose bounty raised in consequences of his captain’s valorous feats. But it was still infuriating just
to think about how people could be this ignorant to underestimate the cook.

“…This letter is getting long, I think I might have to end it for now. Please send my regards to
cook-san. P.S. Nami asked me to pass her message to you and I quote, “when will we get the damn
invitation? Luffy is growing impatient, and he is pestering me. I’m considering raising your debt’s
interest for that, you idiot.” And here is Luffy’s specific request for cook-san, “Sanji, where is my
cake!” I suggest you two reply to them soon and in the respective order for your own financial
wellbeing. Best, Nico Robin.”

Zoro scratched his head, annoyed and befuddled. What the heck was the invitation the sea witch
was talking about? And cake?

“Oi, cook.” He called the blonde who was hovering around the sofa, trying to not look too curious
about what his precious Robin-chan wrote to Zoro. He failed miserably because Sanji and discreet
didn’t mix well when beautiful women were concerned.

“What?”

“Did you forget your promise to Luffy or something, he asked about some cake?”

Sanji frowned it sounded familiar but maybe not too important if he couldn’t remember, “No.
According to Luffy, I’m obligated to send him a ton of meat, ham, and bacon. This ridiculous list
also not includes poultry, seafood, and cheese which he expects me to deliver as well. But no, I
didn’t recall anything.”

16.

Every day, a hundred of ships were heading to the floating restaurant, Baratie, 1/3 of them being
the ships of Zoro’s challengers who wished to claim his title and his bounty.

It wasn’t like Zoro disliked fighting but Baratie wasn’t an ideal place to fight.

There was that one accident that Zoro almost cut the ship in half. It made him come to the
conclusion why the ship’s fighting cooks chose martial arts to defend the ship. It was
comparatively less destructive to the ship than using weapons (unless you were the cook). It was
the same accident that was the last straw for the young head chef, making Sanji put his foot down
and demand this madness to be stopped.

“Or, I’ll confiscate your share of liquor. One more damage on my ship and you will be drinking
seawater for the rest of your life.”

Damn the cook.

Since when he could come up with a real threat that could make Zoro shudder in trepidation? But
he was Roronoa fucking Zoro, he always emerged victorious and he knew just a solution to save
his beloved alcohol.

17.

“Pirate Hunter, Roronoa Zoro! You better prepare yourself, your life is ending today!!” a contender
of the day screamed, brandishing his sword at him while Zoro was taking a nap on the ship's
second-floored balcony.

“Fight me!!” yelled again the rookie whose face and name Zoro could care less to memorize.

“Sure, you have a boat?”

“Eh?”

The green-headed swordsman stood up and yawned widely.

“We cannot fight on this establishment. It’s old and one shitty cook would be pissed if I
accidentally sink it,” explained the swordsman.

Like it’s fucking normal to sink a ship, thought the rookie challenger, sweat drops starting to form
on his forehead but he told himself he had been preparing his life for this encounter. He knew this
man was a fucking monster – he had to be, because how someone who was the strongest
swordsman alive, one of the supernovas of the worst generation and the first mate of Pirate King
himself could be anything else but the personification of death? But today, today, he would end
Roronoa Zoro's life and take his title!!!

“Yes, I have a ship,” he answered, praying that his voice wasn’t shaken but Roronoa seemed to not
notice about it.

“Good. Give me ten minutes.”

“Eh?”

Then, Roronoa was gone. For an hour and a half.

At the kitchen,

“Are you going to fight again?”

“Aye.”

The cook made a tsk noise of annoyance, he motioned one of the cooks to take over the order he
was making. Sanji moved to another available kitchen station, taking some ingredients out from
the pantry and setting them on the table.

“What do you want for lunch?”

“Omurice and I want rum to go with it.”

The greatest swordsman alive appeared on the challenger’s boat later with a sullen expression --
and with his green kaizoku bento and a thermal mug of warm brewed green tea - because the cook
bastard insisted that “Omurice is eating best with tea, you alcoholic idiot.”

“Set sail, we don’t have all day,” commanded the grumpy swordsman. “There is a nearby desert
island, thirty minutes away from here. Here, the coordinates.” He handed the map to the still
confused challenger. “I will fight you there. After I defeat you, you will take me back to the
restaurant. Got it?”

“Y…yes sir?” sputtered the poor challenger, completely lost at this point.

“You can call other challengers to meet me at the island too, I don’t really care. I will fight you all
at once but the evening meal starts at 7, I can’t miss that. You have to return me to the cook’s ship
before 7.”

As the challenger and his crew hurriedly adjust their ship’s direction, Zoro thought to himself that
he was quite generous. See? He was fucking accommodating to these newbies. Mihawk should
take a note.

18.

One year later, the desert island had now a name.

It was called "Marimo Town" and Zoro hated it with his burning passion.

He had no idea people would be that interested in coming to watch him slash down challengers to
the point businessmen saw it was profitable enough to invest money in the island, building inns for
passersby clients coming for the match to stay the night. Seeing that the island wasn’t desert
anymore, the fishermen came to open a fish market, some even decided to stay here permanently.
Now, restaurants, café, souvenir shops, even a fucking spa had started popping up, greedily taking
advantage of the booming tourist economy that was fucking found on Zoro’s fights. When Zoro
had a match, all the shops would close like it was a national holiday and Zoro was its local
celebrity aka the money generator.

Zoro was utterly disgusted.

The cook, of course, was enjoying himself at Zoro’s expanse. It was he and his fucking crew that
spread the rumour about the town’s embarrassing name in the first place.

“Oh dearest customer, if you have time, go watch some match at the nearby island. Our
swordsman is going to take down some opponents. Here is the island’s location. It’s called
Marimo Town, right, Sanji?” Snickered Patty who sadly despite being an ass to Sanji, was still
important to the cook, which meant Zoro couldn’t chop him into cubes.

“Unfortunately, that’s its name. But the town is quite lovely, I hope you give it a try, milady,”
grinned back the head chef. They were all menaces and Zoro hated them.

19.

Despite Zoro’s hatred for the town, Sanji was genuinely in love with it and would ask Zoro to
accompany him to the town during his free time. Zoro knew how difficult it was for the blonde to
find time to relax these days, hence, whenever Sanji asked, Zoro couldn’t refuse. He just couldn't.

Here Zoro was, questioning his life in a hipster café, watching Sanji enjoy his tiny piece of cake, a
tinier cup of coffee and flirt with the cafe's waitress.

Their usual visits consisted of Sanji checking out new cafes and shops, eating some sweet shit and
flirting. Later, they would take a walk around the marketplace, checking some more vendor stalls.
Sanji would buy some shit and Zoro would be his pack mule like the good old days. Then, they
would go home. It was the same itinerary every time they visited the island.

Sanji, though, still treated the town like it was his first visit.

“I still can’t believe that your barbaric fight would give birth to something as lovely as this island,”
Sanji said as they took a walk in the marketplace, looking at shops and bars. Sanji was looking
around at his surrounding excitedly and was more talkative than usual. The cook really did need to
have a break from the kitchen more than he already allowed himself to, Zoro thought to himself.

“Here, Marimo, try this spicy squid!” came back Sanji from one of the market’s vendor stands,
waving a suspicious-looking grilled squid on a stick in front of him.

“My hands are full of your purchased shit, idiot.” Zoro gestured the cook to look at many bags on
both of his hands.

“Too bad, if you ask nicely, I might handfeed you,” the cook said teasingly and popped the squid
in his mouth. It was a bit salty for his liking but the face that Zoro was making was too funny that
it was worth it.

While Zoro was still gaping like a fish out of water, Sanji noticed a beautiful lady and went into the
love-cook mode. Not waiting for marimo’s comeback, he began noodling his way toward the poor
woman. Zoro glared at Sanji’s direction.

It was when he was thinking about finding a bench to sit and wait for the cook to come back to him
with a hand-printed on his cheek that his observation Haki detected an unfriendly intent.

The swordsman let out a sigh and turned to greet a group of 20 pirates looming over him, trying to
intimidate him with their height. Their captain, a dark-skinned man with ringlets and a facial tattoo
cracked a wicked smile at him.
“Roronoa, finally we met,” said the captain, tipping his hat in a mocking manner to Zoro. “For the
strongest swordsman, you don’t look like your bounty poster, you look – ‘smaller’ than I thought,"
the man said, with an intention to provoke.

“I do not know you so I don’t know what to think,” replied Zoro, bored. He wasn’t surprised to be
ambushed on the island, considering that it literally was his fighting ring in the first place. Most of
his past contenders did have a bit of honour, though. This pirate group, however, was clearly
coming for his head. Normally, Zoro would gladly take them down on any other day, but today
really was inconvenient. He was busy. The cook did want to see the fish market today, after all.

Zoro started to calculate whether he could take these pirates to some alley, finish them off and
come back here before the dancing love cook could notice he was gone. Sanji was supposed to get
slapped and come back very soon. Zoro hated to work under time constraints.

The pirate captain’s black eyes did follow Zoro’s glance at the cook’s direction, seemed to come
up with a wrong conclusion as he showed a disgustingly grin at Zoro. His underlings followed suit,
licking lips and leering openly at Sanji.

“Ah, I see. Such a beautiful little thing, isn’t he?”

Zoro started to feel real angry but the scums mistook his silence for his fear for the cook’s life.
Idiots.

“Do not fear, Roronoa. I once was young and I know how powerful love is –“

“Your yapping is making me want to cut my ears off to spare myself from your fucking voice. If
you want to fight, I will give you one, now be quiet.”

The saccharine smile that the older pirate captain kept faking morphed into one ugly sneer. He was
clearly one of the assholes who loved hearing himself talk.

“Watch your fucking mouth, you little pup –“

Zoro was preparing to drop the bags and unsheathe Kitetsu when the cook appeared out of nowhere
beside him and gently took the bags away from Zoro.

“Don’t drop my bags on the ground, stupid swordsman,” reprimanded the cook. “Well, I will wait
for you at the fish market, then.” Zoro made an animalistic grunt in his throat. Sanji paid no
attention to the group of pirates that was surrounding them like he didn't think they existed. The
cook turned his back on them and started walking away. Zoro saw the pirate captain signalled
several henchmen to follow the cook. Again these stupid scums failed to read the situation.

“Don’t.” He warned.

Thinking he had the upper hand, the leader goaded, “you are in no place to bargain, Roronoa! I
might let him go right now, but I do not plan to let such a pretty thing like him that slip away. He
seems ‘feral’. And a feisty type is always a lewd one on the bed. I’m planning to find out soon but
you won’t be alive at that point to worry!”

Too far. You fucking went too far.

Zoro felt a rush of cold fury running through his entire body, the beast inside that screamed to be
unleashed. And he let it out. The violence aura emitting from the swordsman alone made the
underlings petrified on the spot. Even their captain had to take a step back. “Shoot them, you fool!
Don’t drop your weapons!!” He cursed at them, pulling out his own gun with a trembling hand.
When he looked back the swordsman already tied a black bandana on his head and with a sword on
his hand, he looked exactly like his wanted poster, no – more terrifying. A monster. He was
literally a monster.

“I said ‘don’t’.”

Don’t fucking dirty his shoes with you scums’ blood.

20.

Swords still dripping blood, Zoro wandered off to find the cook and saw him not far from the
marketplace, leaning against the wall, smoking.

“I hope you don’t mind me taking out the trash for you,” the cook said mildly. Zoro noticed small
stains of blood on the man’s dress shoes and grimaced. He thought he could get all the henchmen
before they had a chance to touch Sanji, he guessed he was being too slow. Zoro promised himself
to train harder when he got back to Baratie.

“What’s wrong with that face?”

“Nothing. Just let’s go to the fish market before it’s closed.”

“We aren’t going anywhere until you tell me why you're sulking.”

Sanji’s visible eye widened in surprise when the swordsman suddenly knelt down in front of him.
Zoro used his hand to wipe out the stains from the Blonde’s shoes.

“…Zoro?”

“You are Black Leg and they – “He let out a sigh, struggling to find the right word for his
frustration. “They were unworthy.”

Sanji just looked at him. He, then, put a cigarette out on the wall and crouched down to meet the
upset moss. Firmly, the cook said,

“And you are my vice-captain, the strongest swordsman. I’m not very happy to see you dealing
with low-life thugs that don’t deserve your attention too. And seriously, you should consider
having a trash filter or something. I just—hate it sometimes. No one dares to disrespect Hawkeye,
they better fucking show the same respect for you."

“…What I suppose to do, Sanji?”

“I dunno. Maybe open a dojo? Having two thousand pupils to take care of those weak challengers
while you just sit still and look awe-inspiring, as inspiring as a moss ball can be anyway.”

The swordsman snorted at the suggestion, so much for the cook’s wisdom.

“I rather die than having to deal with young brats.”

They looked at each other and chuckled.

“Look, we don’t meddle with each other’s business so I keep out of your fights. But I don’t really
mind to dispose of some rotten garbage – for you. If you don’t mind, that’s it.”
Zoro gave him a lost-puppy look which shouldn’t be considered cute. Sanji would laugh at him if
his own face wasn’t furiously red right now.

“Well?”

“Y-yes. Yes. I don’t mind,” stuttered your greatest swordsman.

“Good! Now, we better get going before the market’s closed, shall we?”
 Chapter 3
Chapter Notes

See the end of the chapter for notes

21.

The quickest, easiest, most effective way to keep the cook happy was to let him do what he wanted.

Their crewmates wrote books about things. Robin wrote about history; Chopper wrote about
medicine and Usopp claimed to write a realistic biography of his adventures which they knew
better than to believe him. Zoro had no interest in the book industry but if he wanted to write
something, that would be the piece of advice that he would like to pass on to the next generation.

It was great advice.

Anyhow, it wasn’t like there would be people out there who needed to use this wisdom apart from
Zoro and the staff who had to handle the cook’s tantrum on a daily basis.

What the cook loved to do the most was to work. In fact, he was practically addicted to working.
Zoro had learned to live with this particular quirk of the cook since they were young and hot-
headed, sailing together in the Merry. For Zoro, work was work; it was something to be done in
order to acquire something that you desired and then you took some rest when it was over. The
cook treated work like life sustenance, something sacred and essential. He was physically appalled
at the innocent suggestion by some well-intentioned staff to take a holiday break once in a while.

“I sailed with the Pirate King for six years. That’s the longest sabbatical leave in the history of
employment. I don’t need more.” The cook laughed it off before ordering the staff to get back to
their stations because the lunch break was over.

Yeah, as if running around on the ship doing chores all day, cooking, preparing feasts, fighting,
and overthrowing tyrants on every island we visit could be considered a breezy vacation, thought
sarcastically Zoro from his table. He learned when to pick a fight and usually, he stayed out of
people’s habits. It wasn’t like he had the right to preach anyone about their choice in lifestyles.
Besides, most of the time, the cook’s workaholism was more or less harmless -- just mildly
annoying. But the benefits of letting him do as he pleased outran the disaster that was to descend
upon if you prohibited him.

To demonstrate the statement, take this theoretical scenario A, a general sum-up of the real
incidents happening in the past, for example.

It was a nice warm sunny day and the local time was around noon. Things had been going too slow
on Baratie and the one cook ran out of work to do. If he were a reasonable person (he wasn’t), he
would take a nap on this leisure day, but because he was insane, the cook decided to roam the
restaurant, examining every nook and cranny to find the smallest, most ridiculous grain of
imperfection to nitpick, consequently gaining the staff and himself some extra work to finish before
the evening rush.

When he was in that mood, no one was really safe. One time, the cook gave a long angry rant about
how the colour of the dining hall’s newly replaced curtains didn’t assist the jovial spirit of the
summer and was making the dining hall look dimmed and unartistic. The poor retail staff had to
hurriedly make a quick change or the cook wouldn’t stop pestering them. Sometimes, it was about
the tablecloth, or the furniture, the decoration, or “that old window panes don’t let in enough
light.” And when all the things worked fine, it was about the temperature and the staff's manner.
He never ran out of things to nag. This, according to some senior chefs (*cough*Patty*cough) was
the difference between Zeff and Sanji in how they ruled the place. The former owner only cared
about the food. If it was good, it was enough. The young passionate chef, on the other hand,
wanted his customers to have great experiences in dining at his place. So, he bitched about
everything that was never the issue under Zeff’s reign.

Fortunately, the cook wasn’t too far gone to start nitpicking about the food. It was the mutual
respect shared between the chef and his staff. Despite his bitchiness, the cook was a good boss and
he had faith in the people he hired to know what they were doing about the food. This, in Zeff’s
word, was the only string that held the staff back from starting a mutiny.

Zeff was the only person who could straightforwardly voice out his opinions about the cook's
administration. He rarely did though because it disrupted the chain of command. All the staff had
to obey the head chef’s command, it was the first law of living on the floating ship. That, unless
you were the head chef’s dad, you were above the law.

“No sailor cares about those tiny little flowers you love to sprinkle on the dish, shitty Eggplant.
Only food matters.” Zeff would grumble, acting as a representative voice of the staff, even in the
end, they would have to do as the cook said.

“Excuse you. Those swine may not comprehend the art of high-end plating, but there are women
and men of culture who dine here as well. They would appreciate the artful presentation and the
hospitality, and review how my restaurant gives the best service in the world!”

At this point the adoptive father, as well as the senior chefs, would roll their eyes, silently gesturing
the young, confused and scared ones to continue working and to ignore the boss because he was
having a period again.

This was the cook being his usual perfectionist self, perfectly obnoxiously healthy. Just barely
bearable. If gods were merciful, the craze of the week would die down in a day or two.

Zoro’s response to this situation would be nothing. When the cook nitpicked, it meant he was
being an asshole to maintain his status of the ship’s diva asshole because life was too fucking
peaceful for his liking.

22.

There were two diversions of Zoro’s actions from the original flowchart, though.

23.

Scenario B

During Zoro's first year on the cook's ship, when the cook’s level of bitchiness rose to the point
that his nagging started to make the staff really distracted (synonym: traumatized), Zeff would raise
his spatula as a warning.
“Do not bother the staff with your nonsense, Eggplant!”

Perhaps, the older chef didn’t want the staff to have a second moment to misinterpret his action as a
gesture of kind concern for the staff’s wellbeing, whatever idea they might have, it was quickly
corrected in Zeff's next line:

“Your PMS is fucking making them distracted. It disturbs the kitchen’s flow! If they don’t give
their best, I will fucking cut their salaries and their fucking legs!” His yell could be heard loud and
clear across the kitchen. These duo owners, the father and the son, were the literal personification
of the evil. Although, for now, the older chef was clearly the lesser evil whom the staff was
looking up to make the head chef leave them alone.

And he did.

“Go annoy someone who isn’t fucking working!”

The only person who wasn’t exactly working on the ship was Zoro. He wasn’t one of the staff
either, thus, wasn’t protected by the law and could be sacrificed for the greater good.

Zoro’s instinct was to make himself scarce, which proved to be a useless strategy very quickly
because Sanji's crazy father would always find him, mysteriously materialized next to him in his
hideaway to strike a bargain with him like a real devil.

“You aren’t essentially doing something important right now, are you?” barked Zeff the question
both of them knew it didn’t need to be answered. “Go keep that rampant Eggplant entertained.”
And here, Zoro wasn’t a person who cared about seniority, and he rather fought a sea king than
trying to pacify the livid cook, but Zeff was the man whom he wanted to be in his good graces.
Even more, Zeff was truly a devil in disguise, old and cunning, who could read a man’s soul like a
fucking book, he didn't give Zoro a moment to hesitate and promised him of some good ale. Three
beautiful bottles to be exact if Zoro did him the deed.

And that was how Zoro’s soul was bought.

Zoro’s first plan was to provoke the cook to fight him. It would let blondie vent out his frustration
like a normal decent human being and Zoro could have some fun. It was a good plan. But it failed.
The cook shot down the invitation. This befuddlement led to Zoro having a trip to his memories
lane to search for what could be wrong with the cook who had just made Zoro lose his ale. If he
remembered correctly, the cook enjoyed fighting as much as he did. Right?

Zoro didn’t remember correctly.

In his meditation, he discovered that fighting didn’t even get to the top lists of the cook’s
preferable activities. The cook appreciated a good fight but he didn’t actively seek it for fun. It was
a big reminder that despite Sanji being a badass fighter, the cook was, yeah, a cook who enjoyed
cooking and other violent-free hobbies. If Zoro got the statistics right, the cook’s most selected
choice to spend time would be…

Flirting with women.

Like hell, Zoro was going to involve a woman in his plan.

He decided to search in his mind again and came up with something that might work. He decided
to test it when the next chance to win back his alcoholic prize arrived.

“Oi, cook!” Yelled the swordsman across the bustling kitchen when he spotted the blonde scolding
some frightened cooks.

“What!?” Yelled back the cook but with more anger.

“Wanna go shopping?”

“…”

“…”

The cook sniffed. “I suppose.”

Jackpot.

Since the first success, the crew seemed to form a civil contract that agreed on Zoro’s duty to take
their head chef out when he had a meltdown. Zoro repeatedly told himself that he did it for booze
even he sometimes forgot to claim his prize.

Anyway, taking the cook for shopping was actually easy.

All he had to do was to unleash him on some islands with functioning capitalism. The cook would
soon start converting his pent-up energy into the purchasing power and the lucky island would
soon find itself richer by the end of the day.

On their first shopping trip, Zoro realized two things:

First was how crucial the witch was to their crew, besides navigating them to Raftel; she practically
kept them from bankruptcy. Seeing how far the cook could go when his allowance wasn’t
restricted by Nami made Zoro rethink that maybe the cook didn’t volunteer to accompany the girls
on their shopping trips just to play the chivalrous knight, maybe the cook, himself, loved shopping.

Second, he didn’t remember to be asked to be the cook’s pack mule for this kind of shopping in
their younger years. What they did together was to shop for the necessary goods and go. The cook
was also more closefisted. Here he was, giving his money away in exchange for the most
nonsensical stuff like some embellishment that he would never wear twice.

“Why the heck did you buy that thing?”

“Why wouldn’t I buy it? It matches my eyes, see?” the cook showed off the bracelet, already in a
good temper after wasting all the money on some absurdly pricey shits.

“You never bought this girly thing before when we shopped in the past.”

The cook looked at him in the eye, deadly serious when he said,

“Marimo, what I did with you and the other males is called restocking, something to do and be
done quickly with the pack mule whose attention span is of a 5-yr-old child. This, on the other
hand, calls shopping, a form of entertainment to be enjoyed by adults. And yes, I did indulge in this
luxuriance before but with my beautiful flowers.”

Zoro knew he had no right to feel jealo-- offended, but he did it anyway. “You could have asked
me, I would have been okay.”

“No, you would have complained,” Sanji retorted.

“…” Zoro could not object that. He knew that a large man liked him acting like a petulant child
insisting that he was right would look ridiculous so he crossed his chest and pretended to be done
with the argument. Sanji let out a secretive smile and tried to appease the indignant swordsman.
After all, the moss had been nice to him today, he deserved some praises.

“But I think I might be wrong – you are surprisingly a tolerable companion, though.”

The cook learned to expect to be taken to shopping after two times that Zoro suggested. There was
more than one time he suspected that the cook was being a prick just to wait for Zoro to offer the
shopping session. If he just wanted to go out, he could have asked nicely like a cultured man he
claimed himself to be. Zoro decided to use the card carefully or the cook would become spoiled.

You shouldn’t reward misbehaviour or you will be encouraging it. He remembered Koshiro taught
him about this lesson on the last time he visited when his teacher still believed Zoro would want a
dojo of his own name.

He hated to repeat what he said to Koshiro but I suck at disciplining kids.

24.

Scenario C

Sometimes, the cook’s workaholism was a manifestation of his grief.

It happened frequently during the rainy season. All Blue was indeed a bizarre sea. The sea could be
peaceful and calm where there was plenty of sunshine and warmth, but out of nowhere dark clouds
swept by, uninvited and bringing along with them the rain and storms turning the fine day into a
shitty one. The sea would be raging and the day looked like the night, cold and dark; all of these
happened on the same day and the same part of the sea.

The rain clearly did not feature well in the cook’s good memories. When it rained, people wouldn’t
go out to eat, there wouldn’t be much to do to pass the stagnant time. The day like this, the cook
would lock himself in his office, working as if his life depended on it.

It was painful to witness the proud man like him looked so vulnerable and small, even the staff
would wish for the cook’s tantrum instead of his melancholy.

The first time that Zoro saw the cook liked this was in his second year when he burst into the
office, determined to drag Sanji out of the hell hole he had dug himself in because for the man who
always shined so brightly, the sorrow emitting from him was getting too unbearable. But when
Zoro saw the cook's one visible eye. He finally understood everything.
Sanji worked the same way Zoro trained.

Zoro decided to stay with the cook until he could drag his ass out of that dark place.

They were fighting the ghost of the past.

Whenever it rained, Sanji would whisper to Zoro about something that used to happen. It didn’t
follow a chronological order. It was always short, undescriptive and impersonal, like a fragment of
someone’s life stories that he happened to overhear.

Something like:

“It rained when he escaped.”

“He locked that boy in the dungeon when she died.”

Zoro would listen attentively because he never heard them before, at least not from the cook
himself. Those boys in their early 20s would not allow such vulnerable moments like this to happen
between them. Young Sanji wouldn't open up and Young Zoro wouldn't offer; the cook in fear of
Zoro’s mockery and the swordsman in fear of Sanji’s rejection.

Luckily, they were way past that youthful stupidity and Zoro was savouring the moment that
finally they were brave enough to let intimacy be shared between them. Tentatively, he grew bold
enough to offer back his comment.

“I fought him, the man I’ve sworn my life to. I hurt him. I starved him.”

“You apologized,” he pointed out.

“I shouldn’t have left the crew.”

“It’s your stupidest decision up to date. And you have done many stupid things.” He said matter-
of-factly, knowing that the person in front of him, even he wasn't in his best condition, didn’t need
to be coddled.

“…I know.”

For someone as strong as them, there was a moment like this when they were brought back to the
humble time when they were at the lowest point of life, trapped by the memories and cursed to
fight over and over the same battle. Sometimes, the pain was manageable but the retreating ghost
always returned to remind them of the scar, to open it and to hit where it hurt the most. One victory
could never magically erase the childhood pain for it has already been ingrained into their
existence. Zoro was made to believe that he was never strong enough and Sanji lived believing he
wasn’t good enough to be alive.

But it shall pass. It always did.

“When will you go to bed, shit cook? This is way past midnight,” complained the swordsman from
the sofa where he'd waited for Sanji to be ready to get out of the shit hole. You prove to no one why
you live. You deserve life.

“In a minute, impatient moss. Let me finish this paper first,” answered the cook who despite his
word, did put his glasses down and prepared to turn off his desk lamp. I know.

25.

Perhaps it was because of some boundary-breaking stuff that brought them to where they were
now: in Zoro's room, with his privacy being invaded and the cook doing as he pleased. In 'his'
room. The cook, the resident clean freak who bathed every day, used to complain that Zoro's room
stank and he could smell it from his room, and Zoro, in annoyance, let the cook inside his room to
shut him up. Cleaning seemed to be a thing that the cook did for entertainment as well, the freak.
Why his way of relaxing had to always be laborious, Zoro would never understand. But whatever,
Zoro got the bedding changed and the room that smelled nice so he thought maybe he could
tolerate this.

That – was until the cook wanted to dress him. Or, he had a hunch that the cook wanted to burn his
clothes and buy a new collection which practically meant he would pick clothes for Zoro to wear.
God forbid, he had to lower himself to let the cook dress him like a girl’s fucking doll just to keep
the cook happy. It was his own mistake to let the cook rummage his wardrobe in the first place.

“Who the hell has eight clothes for a living?!” Exclaimed Sanji from the floor, kneeling in front of
the open closet.

“A normal person,” replied Zoro from the bed.

“No, it’s not! You used to have more than these rags—where are they?”

“On the Sunny. The rest didn’t fit in one duffle bag.”

“Why don’t you buy a new one, you know like normal people?” bitched the cook, exasperated.

“7 clothes for 7 days and one for sleeping. More than enough for one man,” reasoned the
nonchalant swordsman.

Sanji looked utterly disgusted.

“I thought when I see you wearing the same shirt every day that perhaps you might have plenty of
the same shirts in your closet. You look like that kind of a person who buys a cheap rag in a bulk
and wears the same shit every day because his house has no mirror. Guess, I still overestimate
you.”

“Why are you bitching about it all of a sudden?”

“Why don’t you tell me? You live with just 8 clothes?!”

“Actually, it used to be 9. But one's worn out, so I left it at the bottom of the closet.”

Sanji rummaged more and fished out Zoro’s long green coat, the one that had seen all the battles in
New World with him. The cook stared at it.

Zoro cast a glance at the coat. It had seen some naughty fights with him but he had no emotional
attachment to it. After all, Zoro was never a material man.

“Been a while since I stop wearing it.” He couldn’t remember when he last wore it.

“Five years," Sanji said immediately, the gear in his head turning.
Zoro stood at the doorstep of the cook’s office, two plates of lunch in both of his hands. The cook
didn’t come down to the galley to eat. It always happened when he was busy and forgot the time.
Zoro scolded at the thought when the staff timidly informed him of their boss’s absence, and went
to fletch two dishes from the dish rack and filled them with the day's curry and naan bread to take
to the cook’s office. Zoro would march right in, slammed the plates down and demanded the cook
to eat, that if he could find the visible wooden floor that wasn’t cover in papers to step in. The
office was so messy. It could be the sign that the cook was in that mood again and Zoro’s mind
was automatically calculating for the safest route: A, B or C.

“Did you get lost in front of the office again? Just eye on me and slowly step in, marimo. Come on,
you can do it.”

“You're not my mom, idiot cook,” Zoro said but stepped inside, trying to avoid leaving a footprint
on the notes scattering on the floor. There was more shit littering on the cook’s messy desk, some
more notes, itinerary and drawings. In the cook’s hand was a planner. He put the cook’s plate
down and went to the sofa to finish his lunch. The cook continued to write down on his planner
like a mad man; the food was still untouched.

Route B, that’s it.

“Want me to chaperone you on the shopping trip again?”

He received a glare for his good intention. The cook slammed his pen down, pulled his plate to
him, and started eating. Seeing the cook finally ate, Zoro started shoving down his food, feeling
contented that he didn't have to go somewhere anytime soon. They ate in silence when the cook
decided to reveal what had occupied him this whole morning for him to skip lunch.

“I’m planning an anniversary.”

Zoro lifted his head from the curry to look at him, brows furrowed and confused.

The cook stared at his half-empty plate, looking abnormally timid and shy all of a sudden.

“…Well, last night, when I helped rearrange your wardrobe and found your old coat – I just
remembered that it has already been five years since we.. moved Baratie to All Blue. We haven’t
given it a proper celebration yet, too busy adjusting to the new sea and all. Now that we aren’t that
busy. Maybe, we could do it.”

“You want to give the ship a celebration?” Repeated Zoro. Well, it wasn’t a bad idea, he scratched
his chin. He knew all the staff would appreciate the cook’s gesture. And when he thought of all the
booze he could get his hand on freely without being hit by a ladle from the cook or his father, it
was actually a great idea.

“Not just for the ship! It means for everyone, the guests, the staff, Zeff, me and you,” the cook
almost whispered the last part before his voice quickly raised to hide his embarrassment. “You
know, for all of us! For working hard and being…there.”

“Will there be free booze?” Zoro spoke of his concern, his most concern.

Sanji had a sudden urge to kill a man, particularly the idiot sitting on his sofa whose thick-skulled
head just failed to get the implication of thankfulness in the message Sanji struggled to offer to
him.
“I never host a cheap party. There will be booze but your alcoholic ass will not get any unless you
help out!”

How the cook could change from adorably trying to thank him to the bossy bitch in a minute Zoro
couldn’t understand. It was just a simple question. He said exactly that to the cook, sans the part he
thought he was cute, and was told to leave.

“You better come back at 4. I’ll need your eye and all the brain cells you could muster up!” The
cook shouted after him. And some old folks had the gall to lie that only women had the temper of
the sea.

The cook decided to wait for the high season to be over before announcing the anniversary to the
staff or they would be too exhausted to be jovial about it. From the cook’s planner, they had six
months to go until the day that the cook had planned to hold the celebration which according to the
cook was plenty of time but the workaholic idiot still wanted to start working on something that
could be done by just the two of them.

26.

A week later

Zeff had suspected that the little Eggplant and his shitty swordsman was up to something. It was
probably that the swordsman was roped into Eggplant’s conspiracy of the month. The two may not
realize this but they weren’t exactly discreet about something that supposed to be a secret.

Here and there, there were some conversations that the staff accidentally overheard them
whispering (aka fighting with each other) when they thought they were alone. It was too vague to
get the idea right. But, finally, they had a solid piece of evidence of what was going on between the
young boss and his man.

The first witness was a young apprentice on a cleaning duty of the hall on the 2 nd floor where
Eggplant’s office was located. The local time was 12 PM. The normal time when the two usually
had lunch. And these were the overheard conversations that the boy swore, under the threat of
being used as a fish bait if he lied, were all true:

“I said anything would work just fine, shit cook.”

“Get your ass over here, asshole. You didn’t even look at it!”

“I don’t have to. It’s a waste of time. Why would anyone be paying attention to the difference
between this blue and that blue? It’s just blue.”

“Everyone with eyes would mind, you damn colourblind single cell. And they are sapphire blue
and cobalt blue. Fucking hell they are different! See!!” A sound of a hand was heard smashing on a
table, likely by the cook who wanted to make a physical emphasis to his statement.

“Don’t get your panty in a twist. Yawwwwn, just pick that green one and be done with it.”

There were the thud sounds of an object hitting on something organic and dropping to the floor
respectively. An angry yell followed.
“Did you just fucking throw a paperweight at someone who was asleep!?”

“Boo hoo, for the so-called strongest swordsman, you screamed so much for simply being thrown
a paperweight at, like a sissy.”

The apprentice didn’t stay long enough to eardrop the next conversation. He fled the hall like a boy
with a good sense of self-preservation. By the evening, everyone on the ship, except those couple
in the story, had heard the story more than one time, being retold at least twice by their fellow
crewmates who liked them were excited by the news. They had done too many caterings to know
what “colour schemes” was all about. Something was going to happen and if it was what they
thought it was…

Everyone was in high spirits, including the former owner-chef. Particularly, the former owner-chef.

That night, Zeff, himself, overheard something interesting as well. No, he didn’t eardrop. No
owner eardrops in his own home, boys. But the cleaning boy’s story gave him a good mood and he
decided to listen to his fussy doctor’s advice to take care of his creaking body once in a while -- he
had a good reason to keep this rusty old boat to stay above the surface now. Anyway, he decided to
go get some milk from the kitchen, to follow the doc’s suggestion: cut out the alcohol and eat
healthy, yadda yadda some boring shit.

Both Eggplant’s and his rooms were located on the third floor of the ship as so the guestroom
which seemed to have a permanent resident at this point. Eggplant and the shitty swordsman’s
rooms were next to each other and close to the stairs while Zeff’s was at the end of the hall so no
one disturbed his rest. He was a light sleeper so it was a good arrangement if people didn't want to
lose a life or a limp. To go to the kitchen on the ground floor, Zeff had to pass the brat’s quarter.
Apparently. And it was such a coincidence that he happened to hear something and might stop to
listen for a bit. The milk was still in the fridge and it could wait.

“You cannot invite all the people.” the voice of a certain green-headed idiot passed through the
door. Interesting.

“But I want to invite all the people,” argued the Eggplant.

“You do realize that half of –scratch that, all the people you plan to invite to the party have
bounties, right? If the marine is half-wise, they will fucking come to wreck your anniversary.”

“Aw, are you afraid of having a food fight with the marine, marimo-kun?”

“Like hell I’m afraid! I’m going back to my room.”

“There, there. Don’t get your delicate feathers ruffled—“

“Stop ruffling my head!”

“It is fucking relaxing, it’s like petting an animal’s fur,” the brat sounded adoring.

“…”

“Okay, okay. I apologize. Satisfied? Don’t pout.”

“I do not.”
“But I’m serious about inviting them all to the celebration.”

“Don’t say I didn’t warn you; it’s going to be a management nightmare. You will lose your hair
from the stress.”

“I don’t do things mediocre. And since you have a degree in management?”

“I don’t. I have a common sense.”

“You just hate people, my mossy Grinch, green and grumpy.”

“Fine. Do whatever you want.”

“Of course, I will, thank you for reminding me of my right.”

“You are annoying.”

“I will call a truce. Should I send out invitation cards or should I buy the newspaper’s ad space?”

“I—“

“Wait, let’s finalize the guest list first.”

“Ugh.”

Sounds of bed sheets rustling.

“Don’t you fucking sleep on my bed,” chided Eggplant but he made no attempt to kick the
swordsman off his bed, judging from no sound of the lump hitting the floor yet.

“Okay, I’m prepared. Go sort your crazy list.”

Zeff needed to hear no more of their conversation. If you could see him right now, you would
notice that his neatly braided moustache visibly gave the happy twitches and that he walked all the
way down to the kitchen with a spring in his step. Screw the Doc, Zeff would give himself a glass
of brandy tonight.

Meanwhile, in Sanji’s room, the fight was still going on. Sanji begrudgingly admitted that the moss
was right about moving to lay down on the bed and joined him shortly after his back started to
protest, sitting on the dresser chair and reciting names of the guests they planned to invite for thirty
minutes would kill a lesser man's back.

“Viola is…fine. No. No, Perona. No, Tashigi. NO, Pudding.”

“What’s wrong with you and these fine lovely ladies?”

“Perona is a nut job and I hate her. That woman IS a marine and didn’t your ex-betrothed
something try to kill you before?”

“Who cares – My fiery, strong, beautiful flowers with her own agenda who needs no man! My life
has been blessed with their grace!” Sanji drew little hearts around the aforementioned names of the
female list. Why bother having a list when he ended up inviting them all? Zoro was irritated.

“Do you always think with your dick?” the swordsman muttered and scrambled for the list of male
guests before the cook could grab it. Knowing the cook’s shameless bias on some of the guests,
Zoro quickly ticked yes on the names of the ruler and citizens of Kamabakka.

Sanji was horrified.

“Give me back my list!” the cook lunged at him but the swordsman had already predicted the
move. With Sanji’s focus was solely on the list on his right hand, Zoro stretched his arm out,
waited for the cook to attempt to grab it and used this opening chance to push his head under the
covers with his left hand. While the cook was struggling to break free from the blanket enclosure,
and with a pen in his mouth – he wasn’t the master of Santoryu for nothing – Zoro quickly crossed
out more names of people he didn’t like. Like that Gin guy. He hesitated about Law. The man was
their ally and all but he did have an unhealthy obsession with the cook in the raid suit. What
happened in Wano should never be repeated again, ever.

So, no.

The same for the North Blue gangs that could be or had already been Stealth Black fanboys.

The cook finally broke free and kicked Zoro off the bed.

27.

When the head chef had called for the evening meeting a week later, all the staff was looking at
each other with the knowing grin. The anticipation had been building since the first piece of news
was shared. The young cooks and waiters talked excitedly about food and booze, music and girls,
bonus and holidays, while the senior chefs who practically raised Sanji just sighed in relief. Zeff
dreamed about a real retirement with little brats, and Patty nudged Carnes, agreeing that they
needed to go back to check the five-yr-old pool to see who would win the bet.

Everyone was happy it was the swordsman. When he first arrived, they were uncertain. They knew
of his reputation but not his personality or what was the kind of relationships he had with their
boss. He didn’t blend in and he carried himself differently; He wasn’t their fellow staff nor their
boss. His place in the ship was never directly stated. But Zoro grew on them. They discovered that
he was a nice guy, a down-to-earth kind of person who helped out when he could, who didn’t act
all high and mighty like many snobs in power. But most of all, he was good for their boss, keeping
him grounded.

The dynamic, the endearment, the energy – they couldn’t be more obvious. It had been a
wonderment for the staff why wouldn’t they wed a long time ago? Or if the two would be that kind
of a couple who wished to never have their marriage officiated which was a bizarre concept to the
staff still. After all, they were sailors. All the sailors loved weddings! The life of seafarers was
short and harsh so any opportunity to throw a celebration was welcome. And weddings. The
wedding was the most important of them all. It was a celebration of love and life, a chance to give
a toast to the couple, to give a great speech, to reminisce the old times with friends, to eat and drink
to the heart’s content and to weave a heartwarming story that would be told for the years to come.

In short, the staff was all into the idea of throwing the biggest and the greatest wedding for their
boss and the swordsman. It was a great chance as the sailor and as the cook to give their best for
the people and to the life they had treasured!
“You what?” Carne asked because something might be absolutely wrong with his hearing.

“Are you deaf? I said I’m planning for the celebration of our restaurant’s 5th anniversary!” Sanji
said, waving a planner in his hand.

“We should do this age ago to give us all a celebration for working hard all these years. I think we
deserve it, don’t we?” He addressed to the crowd which went unexpectedly silent. It was weird. He
expected they would be more excited about the chance to get drunk, especially when all the food
and booze would be on the house.

Yes, but not this one! Everyone wanted to scream, everyone except the oblivious cook and his
swordsman who sit further away from the meeting, playing a decoration plant and eating his snack
like he had no part in this and whatsoever.

One of the cooks who was braver than the rest raised his hand, “Is it the only celebration we are
going to have in this year, head chef?”

“Are you sure there isn’t anything you might have forgotten to announce?” Patty added
desperately, he would hate to return the money to the pool. Who knew when he was going to get it
back? Seeing how this shit show is heading, it probably never.

Sanji blinked.

“Is there any celebration should I be planning beside my own restaurant’s anniversary?”

Your own wedding!!!

Screamed silent the staff in unison. They wouldn’t want to be ungrateful and all but they had been
promised something better. Any celebration would be pale in comparison to the wedding.

And Zeff. Poor Zeff.

The former head chef looked so done with his life. And here he thought that there would be no
more rooting for them to get their shit together, that he believed one of the idiots finally made the
right move. All he ever wanted was them to be happy –happier. What they already had was great.
In fact, it was something that many had searched their lives for, but they could become so much
more if they weren’t fucking blinded. The disappointment was too much. He was stupid to
overestimate his son’s intelligence. And the Eggplant’s choice in a mate equally matched him in
terms of stupidity. They fucking deserved each other -- and the special place in hell for the bullshit
they had put Zeff through.

He wanted to drink into a stupor and smash their heads with the bottle.

28.

Despite the big letdown of the year, the majority of staff had moved on quickly. The preparation
for the Baratie’s 5th year anniversary had begun, the time was ticking down, with only 2 months
left until the final day. They were professional cooks of the sea, they may not get what they wanted
but they would put all the effort into making it the greatest celebration ever.

The former owner-chef was being moody than usual. Sanji quickly disregarded his brooding as
Zeff finally caught up with his old age. The old man decided to go sulk around the reception area,
yelling at anyone who called through the restaurant’s Den Den Mushi. He might hate seeing
human faces (especially the Eggplant’s stupid face) right now but the snail’s face didn’t count and
he needed to yell at someone.

8 weeks before the anniversary and Zeff received a phone call from someone unexpected.

“You’ve called the shitty restaurant!”

“Hello, sir. This’s “Big News” Morgans!”

Three days earlier

Sanji was writing and rewriting the recipe for the staff in his office which the Marimo
coincidentally claimed it as his lair to take a nap during the daylight when he had no place to be.
Sanji was thinking about the dessert menu to serve the guests in the anniversary when he
remembered something.

“Oi, Marimo. Wake up.” Sanji threw a paperweight at the sleeping moss on the sofa. He aimed for
the head, but the tanned arm reached out to catch it before the paperweight could hit its owner in
the face. Shame.

Still resting his eye, Zoro grumbled out, “What?”

“Didn’t you say Luffy wanted a cake?”

“Maybe, it has been a year. He may already forget about it. He is Luffy,” mumbled the moss head,
still trying to sleep.

“Not about food. What’s kind of cake he wants?”

“Don’t know. He only said cake. Just call him.”

“Thank you for your useless help.”

Zoro was already snoring obnoxiously.

Sanji gave the snoring swordsman a dirty look before dialling to the Franky House. A month ago,
Thousand Sunny had to dock at Water 7 for its annual check and repair. Sanji supposed that Franky
and Nami-san were still residing in Franky’s house and hopefully Luffy would choose to stick
around.

He didn’t but Franky said he boarded Bartolomeo’s boat a week ago and Bartolomeo conveniently
had a portable Den Den Mushi on his ship to broadcast his fanboying over Luffy. Franky did ask
for his snail number in cases Luffy caused troubles again. Such a faith they had for their captain.

“Why do you need to talk to him, bro?”

“It’s a surprise that I’m preparing. You will learn about it soon!” Sanji promised.

“Superrr! I’m looking forward to it!” The cyborg said, sounding genuinely excited. At least,
someone was really enthusiastic about his forthcoming celebration. Unlike a certain old
man sulking somewhere in the lobby, terrorizing people for some reason only gods knew.
Bartolomeo picked up the snail on the first ring.

“Oi, Sanji's speaking. Is Luffy there?”

The inhuman gushing had continued for five minutes (something along this line “Sanji-sempai is
calling Luffy-sempai on my ship! Wait until you hear this, Cavendish, you loser!”), before the
familiar voice of his captain was on the phone.

“Hey, Sanji!!!”

Sanji grinned. He missed this man. He didn’t realize how much he did until he heard Luffy’s voice
again.

“Hey, you rubber menace.”

His captain’s cheerful voice could be heard through the snail and the marimo immediately lifted
his head to look at the source. Sanji put Luffy on the speaker, knowing that the swordsman would
want to hear his captain's voice as well, especially after the five years of not seeing each other.

“Oi, Luffy. You are the first person besides my staff and the mosshead to know this but I’m
preparing an anniversary—“

“PARTY!! YAYYYY!! CAN I COME?!” Luffy yelled.

The two men in the office chuckled together at his child-like excitement.

“Of course, idiot. I’m planning to invite you all. I just want to ask you personally about something.
I’m baking a cake for the ceremony--”

“CAKE!! FINALLY!!”

“Stop interrupting me or you won’t get any!”

“Prince-san, please give me my cake!” cried the Pirate King.

“Yes, that’s what I want to ask; what’s kind of cake you want?”

“Of course, it has to be a wedding cake, Sanji! I want it big and with many flavours as possible!!”

A normal cook would point out to Luffy that a wedding cake was for a wedding ceremony and
might not be appropriate to be served at a restaurants’ anniversary but Sanji never catered for
normal people. Also, he had seen Luffy’s weirder food requests and dutifully fulfilled them all as
his ship cook. So, the cook and the swordsman didn’t even blink at their Pirate King’s out-of-the-
blue demand for a wedding cake and shrugged it off as the man being glutton who wanted the
biggest cake to gorge on. Luffy’s motto when food was concerned was always the bigger, the
better, anyway.

“Got it, Captain.”

Luffy grinned at Bartolomeo and his crew who were standing around the Pirate King and the Den
Den Mushi he just hung up, trembling in anticipation of whatever he was going to say.

“Shishishi, Sanji and Zoro are inviting all of us to the party!”

“What’s for the occasion, Luffy-sama?” asked one of the crew because his captain was too busy
choking on his own saliva.

“Anni—something but there is going to be the biggest wedding cake ever!”

A pause, then the cheer thunderously erupted.

Bartolomeo howled like a wounded animal, tear spilling down his cheeks like a waterfall.

“What a day! What a great day! Today, my ship’s just witnessed one of the most important events
ever in the history of pirates! Zoro-sempai and Blackleg-sempai, the right-hand and left-hand men
of the great Pirate King are going to wed and they called Luffy-sempai and it happened on my
ship!!!”

The news of the wedding spread around the globe in a day. It was such impressive speed that could
only be achieved when there were hundreds of pirate fleets under the flag of the Strawhats alliance
going over every island to announce the news.

The news reached the ear of one man. He was one of the most powerful men of the Underworld,
the one who was the first to crown Luffy the fifth emperor many years ago. The man’s name was
Morgans.

This piece of the news they received had caused his World Economy News Office on fire for two
days as his team split into two, fighting over the credibility of the unbelievable news.

“If it’s true, it’s going to be one of the most historical events of the pirate era! We have to publish
this fast or we will be left behind!” One of the editorial team debated.

“But it’s so unbelievable, it could be fake!” The other objected.

“I agree it’s too suicidal! To just announce their wedding openly for the Marine to find and get
them. Even Gol D. Roger decided to marry in secret!”

“But everything about the Strawhats is unbelievable!”

Morgans put his feathery hand on the desk to signal them to stop. “Let’s call them to verify the
news!”

“Is it true, sir, that the strongest swordsman Roronoa Zoro and BlackLeg Sanji are to marry at your
establishment?!”

Ho.

The old chef hummed after he heard all the story from the journalist. He played with his
moustache, calmly analyzed the cards in his hand. He was not in a hurry to answer, knowing
whoever on the other side of the world would wait.

Finally, he decided on his turn.

“I don’t think it matters.”

“!?!”
Zeff's eyes glinted with mischief.

“What could be different if they marry or not? These two idiots have been living together for five
years, haggling like the old married couple and that swordsman is practically eating from the
Eggplant’s hand,” Zeff underlined, grinned at himself when he heard the furious sounds of note-
taking on the other side of the line. “Nothing gonna change between them, I tell ya. But yeah, I
remember we are going to hold a celebration in the next two months.”

Zeff hung up the phone and went to one of the cooks who was assigned to contact the newspaper
for buying the advertising space.

“Don’t bother your head with it,” The eldest chef gently pat the staff's shoulder as he walked into
the kitchen, humming an old tune, while the chefs looked at him, all confused and wary.

“BIG NEWS!” Morgans hollered at his team.

“They are already living together!” screamed one of the news writers. The whole office chorused,
“They are going to marry!”

29.

While Morgans's team was having a field day, meanwhile, in a tailor shop on Marimo Island, a
man was being tortured.

Zoro stood still in a small changing stall, looking dead from the inside and thinking what had he
done wrong to lead him to this kind of fate. What he was sure was that he was tricked by the sly
fox, who because of him, Zoro had to end up in this pansy dress store.

The cook opened the curtain to roll his eyes at him and to give him a fucking three-piece suit, two
dress shirts and a few ties for Zoro to try out.

"Kill me."

“Don’t be dramatic. The sooner you get your ass in that suit, the sooner it’s over. Now pick.” The
cook lifted two hangers of dress shirts for him to choose. It was a lie, a trap to give a delusional
sense of having choices when in reality, whatever he picked didn’t matter because the cook would
force him into trying the other one anyway.

Seeing the moss head refused to move like a self-righteous child, the blonde chef decided that he
could waste no more time as he had a basket full of shirts and pants outside waiting for the
stubborn overgrown child to try out, and pulled out the trump card.

“Come on, Marimo. If you behave, I will let you come with me to sample the wine we are going to
serve in the ceremony. And I ordered a lot.”

Sanji let the offer sink in. He saw the battle going on in Zoro's grey eye but he knew the alcohol
card always, always worked on Zoro.

When the moss’s scruffy face brightened up, which to normal people still looked like his usual
poker face because it was the molecular change that wasn’t visible to the naked eyes, Sanji knew
he had got the man to be pliant for an hour or two before he started throwing a fist again.
“Tsk.” Zoro said, took the suit, one of the shirts and a random tie from Sanji’s hands and closed the
curtain of his cubicle.

He emerged from the changing stall forty minutes later in a silver-grey suit and a pine green dress
shirt, sans the tie which he was still struggling with it. Sanji laughed – like a mother of a boy on his
first ball – and got up from his chair to help out the incompetent moss.

Zoro watched in awe as pale and long fingers of the chef worked nimbly to give him a fancy knot
he’d never be able to do it by himself.

“Here you are,” The blonde chef said and stepped back to look at the swordsman standing
awkwardly in his suit, inspecting the tie knot like it was a puzzle. It was so unfair that the man who
acted like a dork managed to look like a god, strong and beautiful, without ever trying. And grey
did compliment his eye and bronzed skin so deliciously. Sanji felt his knees weakening and
panicked because his legs WERE his weapon. They weren’t supposed to collapse on themselves.
He wasn’t a one-day-old lamb!

“I know that a suit can make anyone look better even a savage like you,” Sanji coughed out, trying
to conceal his mental breakdown. Don’t burst out that he’s looking good! Don’t burst out that he’s
looking good! Shut your mouth before it’s too late!

“Are you sure that this is necessary?” asked the moss, oblivious to Sanji’s problem. Zoro adjusted a
button on his cuffs, looking thoughtful. “I can wear your staff’s suit, you know. It’s cheaper.”

“Why would I let you do that?” Sanji frowned.

Zoro lifted his eye from his wrist to look at Sanji and explained,

“This is a thousand-Berri suit that I’ll wear for once and you know it – You don't have to pay for it.
I’ll be fine in any suits.”

Sanji's heart softened at the Marimo's consideration.

"And my balls chafed."

“You are an absolute idiot.”

“Oi!!”

30.

The tomorrow newspapers’ headlines read:

The Marriage of the Monsters!

The engagement is announced between Roronoa Zoro, the strongest swordsman in the world and
the right-hand man of the Pirate King, and Vinsmoke “Black Leg” Sanji of the Strawhat Pirate!
Sources say the infamous couple has spent five years after the disbandment of the most powerful
pirate band of the era living together in Black Leg’s home place, the floating restaurant, Baratie,
where the wedding ceremony is going to take place in the next two months. Pirate ships around the
world are sure to be heading to the restaurant, including the King of Pirates himself, to be witness
 to the marital union of the decades! Chaos is absolutely guaranteed. The world has been woken up
from stagnancy and we cannot be more excited!!! Read more page 3.

The exclusive scoop on the couple’s secret domestic life on the floating ship, page 11.

The whole world now knew about the marriage. With the exception of the soon-to-weds,
themselves.

Chapter End Notes

Or, in which Sanji and Zoro planned the wedding but didn't know they planned the
wedding. The world corrected them.
 Chapter 4
Chapter Notes

Thank you very much for the comments and support! I feel loved. In celebration of the
Zosan's reunion in the recent manga, I decided to post this chapter. Please enjoy.

31.

The delivery of the World Economy Newspapers was done by the news seagulls. These hard-
working seabirds were making sure that the newspapers were delivered to all subscribers around
the world on time, in spite of the odds that were of the different time zones and the unpredictable
weather of the seas their clients chose to live in.

At 5 AM, the seagull arrived at the Baratie. The sky was still dark but the floating restaurant was
already awakened, the light from storm lamps and lanterns illuminating the decks where the
fishermen and the cooks alike were bustling around. The morning-shift crew were up since 3 in the
morning, busy and cranky, as they were bargaining, bickering and occasionally brawling with the
headstrong fishermen, trying to settle for the fair prices of the goods. The noises of their haggles
could be heard from miles away across the quiet sea. It was no surprise that the staff of the
morning shift was the grumpiest of the lots. I mean, they had their hand full of work. After they
finished restocking, they were to head to the kitchen to start breakfast for the crew and senior
chefs. Oh, and they also had to deal with some miscellaneous things, here and there, that the
morning chores entailed, like paying the news bird for the newspaper.

One of the deck staff paid the bird to receive the newspaper like every day. This newspaper was
going to be sent to the head chef’s office, ready for him to read when he woke up at 6. He read it
every morning. But like every day, the deck staff would scan the news’s headlines first, trying to
see if there was any fishy news worth gossiping over with the other crewmates during their break,
maybe today some pretentious bastards in the Grandline finally did something scandalous --

The poor, unfortunate staff. His brain wasn’t prepared him for what he had just read as his eyeballs
almost popped out of the sockets, and this wasn’t an exaggeration. He dropped the newspaper, very
very petrified.

One of the cooks saw him collapse on the deck and yelled at him, “Don’t be fucking clumsy, you
idiot! If the boss finds out the newspaper’s creased, you are fucking toasted!” He hurried to his
fellow crewmate who apparently was on the next stage of foaming. Insensitively, he paid him no
mind because daily breakdowns often happened when people had to wake up at an ungodly ass
hour to work – at least this restaurant was paying them well. The scolding staff, thus, went to pick
the newspaper, carefully straightening creases and wrinkles that might happen when it was
dropped. He examined it again, to make sure its condition was still passable to be placed on their
picky head chef’s desk and saw the headline in its glorious, big, bold font.

“We are going to die!!!”

32.
By 5.30, the cooks, the waiters, the cleaners, the errand boys and all the concerned staff, minus the
senior chefs and the “couple” who thankfully were still asleep, had read the newspaper.

They all stood and sat in silence in the kitchen, sharing the grim faces and sweating like reluctant
men forced to participate in an illegal and dangerous assembly, except that they were the outlaws
and the world government’s order was the last thing they had feared.

The problematic newspaper was placed innocently on the kitchen table which occasionally
received wary glances from the participants to make sure that it was still there and didn't sprout out
legs and run to the boss.

Shit. That’s right. The boss.

The door to the kitchen opened causing the people inside to flinch. They heaved out a sigh of relief
when seeing it was just one of them dragging a man inside. That was also when the fearful eyes
turned into the glare directing at the man screaming on the floor.

“What the fuck?!” yelled the man, ‘the culprit’ whose foot and hands were tied. He was pissed. He
was one of the afternoon-shift cooks. His rage was rather justified if you asked him. He had just
been dragged out of his cabin. of his bed. Before his shift even started! And now it seemed he was
going to be subjected to his crewmates’ crazy game. Even his instinct told him otherwise. The way
they looked at him kinda unsettled him. There was no mirth in it but a resolution. Like they had
prepared to have him slaughtered, stuffed and sacrificed or something.

“You are the press organizer of the anniversary, aren't you!?” Accused one of the hysteric cooks
who stood behind the grilling station and was pointing an iron skewer at him. It caught the culprit
cook off guard because it was so fucking out of the blue. He opened his mouth to yell his
confusion but someone thrust a newspaper on his face which made him accidentally inhaled the
smell of the newspaper ink. He coughed and glared back but his eyes caught the words written in
the newspaper.

As he read, the gears in his head were turning crazily. When it clicked, the culprit finally
understood the gravity of the situation he was in. Then, he saw the people whom he called friends,
who were now looking at him with the murderous intent, with their pitchforks raising and torching
burning bright. His life was in real danger right now.

“It wasn’t me!!!” the afternoon cook cried out.

“If it wasn’t you, then who?! You are the one Head Chef has trusted to deal with the press. You
can’t just pull this shitty prank and get away!” One of the furious cooks pointed his knife at him.

“Let put his head on a silver plate and hope the boss will be forgiving!” said one of the waiters
whose suggestion gained many murmuring agreements with.

“It WASN’T me!!” the culprit-turning-scapegoat screamed, thrashing desperately to get himself
out of the rope as his body was lifted and carried to the table to be field-dressed.

"Think twice or get diced for your shitty mistake!" Sang the other staff.

In the pure horror and desperation, the scapegoat shouted,

“I swear by Owner Chef’s mustache and everything that is holy, I didn’t do it!”

The gods were perhaps on his side on that morning because his Nakama wasn’t too far gone to not
hear his plead. Everyone paused from what they were doing or prepared to be doing to the innocent
culprit.

“Let hear him out!” They said and stopped. Because in this sea, swearing to the owner chef’s facial
hair could never be taken lightly. Lying and you would soon be a dead man.

“If you didn’t, then who!?” demanded the cooks, while dropping the culprit on the floor.

“The fuck how I know!” cursed the culprit who just had a near-death experience but never forgot
he was a foul-mouthed sailor. Panting and still tied, he slowly crawled his way to the furthest wall,
away from the bloodthirsty men he called his crew who a minute ago was prepared to gut him
alive. “I was told by the owner-chef to leave it and I haven’t touched a single anniversary work
since yesterday’s afternoon!”

The mention of the owner-chef did sober down the witch hunt. After a brief pause to run their
brains over for some good explanation, some of the staff had stumbled upon the memory of the
surreal afternoon which their owner-chef who had been sulking for a week, suddenly became too
friendly. He even hummed a toon! And it all started after the talk he had with a mysterious person
on Den Den Mushi.

“Guys, I think the scapegoat is right…”

The room went eerie silence after that.

In the end, they came up with a conclusion -- that they were still fucked but badly. This was the
most awkward predicament they were ever in because if it was the owner-chef who pulled this
stunt, what could they do?! They couldn’t just out the big boss to save their hide! It was like
choosing between the legendary peg leg and the flammable one, both equally painful and they were
looking forward to neither of them.

“We are going to die!”

Their future was that grim.

33.

The staff unanimously reached the agreement on that they don’t want to do death.

After three barrels of rum were gone, they found in them the courage to declare, “we will be fine as
long as the head chef doesn’t find out this newspaper exists!!”

“It doesn’t exist!” sang the others, raising their mugs.

One of them, whose bravery was dubious but was certainly the drunkest of the lot took the
newspaper and threw it into the sea, while everyone cheering him on.

34.

“The bird flu?” Sanji stopped stirring a cup of coffee in his hand to look at the errand boy who
stood somewhat nervously in front of him.

“Y—yes, head chef! One of the sailors told us that the birds have caught the naaastiest flu ever!
And no bird is available to deliver the news until… the next week, sir! Or maybe longer!”
Rambled the young staff.

Weird, thought Sanji. No, he didn’t mean about the sick birds. They are hiding something from me.

When he didn’t find the newspaper on his desk, he summoned the staff to ask that perhaps they
might forget it. Actually, it wasn’t a big deal until the errand boy arrived at Sanji’s office like he
drew the short straw and had to be here to receive a death sentence. Sanji sipped his coffee,
keeping his poker face up while regarding the squirming boy. Sanji understood that he wasn’t
close to the crew – they never shared the bond with him like his Strawhats – because of the
responsibilities and the boundary Sanji intentionally set to separate him from them. But he was
never a negligent captain. He cared for them, well, enough to be confident about how his
subordinates’ minds worked.

He knew that they had a tendency to exaggerate about things that Sanji could and would do.
Sometimes it was flattery because they were proud of him and wanted to brag about their captain’s
prowess but sometimes their imagination was downright ridiculous. Like those times the senior
cooks scared the newbies on board, spreading rumors of what kinds of terrifying things Sanji would
do to them if they messed up, making Sanji the sea bogyman.

It wasn’t like he would make them lick the deck clean if they screwed up the soup, he thought,
annoyed.

Well, he would make them lick the deck if they actually screwed up the soup because that was
their fucking job, how could they fuck up? But he wouldn’t – skin them alive? No one was perfect
and Sanji wasn’t that unreasonable. The punishment should be in proportion to the crime.

Anyway, it started to get really uncomfortable to watch his subordinate turning himself into a
cheese twist. Sanji, thus, decided whatever they were trying to hide from him must not be
important to warrant his attention. Maybe they just lost the newspaper and panicked. It wasn’t like
Sanji needed to read it badly. He may miss some gossipy celeb news but that was all.

The head chef put the empty cup on its saucer and waved his hand off to dismiss the boy. “You
may go.”

He hadn’t seen someone running away from him this fast and pondered whether he had been too
hard on his crew.

35.

Sanji glared at the tall stacks of paperwork, realizing why he needed the newspapers in the first
place. Now, he had no excuse to dawdle. He glared again at the paperwork, hoping they would
burn to ashes by themselves. They didn’t.

Sanji groaned and leaned back on his chair. The swivel chair, one that he bought from his last visit
to the island to get the Neanderthal something decent to wear. Tentatively, Sanji spun the chair,
letting it swirl in a circle. He let out a grin. It was such a good chair. Also, the last visit was very
successful. He got many things on his to-do lists cross out, mainly getting rid of Marimo’s old rags
and buying him a new wardrobe.

Good Sanji. Well done, Sanji.

The chair stopped spinning but Sanji spun it again because he deserved it. And he could.
Thinking of Zoro somehow put a smile on his face. He had no ideas on how his brain decided to
associate the mosshead’s stupid face with the anniversary. Weirdly, he was fine with that. Perhaps,
he was too excited to meet everyone again to the point that even Zoro’s stoic face could be
considered a part of any jovial celebrations. Though, he secretly liked that the moss looked eager to
participate with the preparations even he believed Sanji was throwing it to honor his crew.

The stupid clueless Marimo who had no ideas that this celebration was for him as well. He didn't
know how much he did for this ship. For Sanji.

Sanji loved his job but to run a restaurant for 5 years -- it could give a man, fatigue. His life could
have been more tedious, tamed and a bit boring had Zoro not been there. He just wanted to make
sure that the moss didn’t feel like he was an outcast.

For a while, Sanji had been having a small, not at all significant, worry about Marimo. He was
'quite' concerned that one day, the moss might wake up to a realization that he didn’t belong here,
and leave. Because they all knew he naturally didn’t belong here. A swordsman on a ship full of
cooks. There were many activities on the ship he couldn’t join. He didn’t know nor care about
cooking or sailor games and the cooks shared no interests in swordsmanship. There were many
islands that Zoro was more wanted and would be welcomed if he so chose. But Zoro remained with
the Baratie. Unfortunate was Sanji for the longer he stayed, the larger Sanji’s insecure bubble
grew. Even he knew Zoro was a solitary animal who liked to have a distance between himself and
the crowd most of the time, insecurities heeded no man’s logic.

He wanted the man to feel belong here.

It was part of his fault for planting himself stubbornly on Sanji’s ship for 5 years, making Sanji see
his presence the normalcy.

36.

Zoro washed his face on the sink, trying to get rid of sluggishness. He felt stubble on his chin. He
might have to make a visit to the cook’s chamber to borrow his razor again, probably tonight. Zoro
shuddered at the thought. Whenever he was there to borrow something from Sanji, it always ended
with the cook holding the thing he wanted in his hand, refusing to give it to him unless Zoro bathed
first. It wasn’t like Zoro was against the idea of bathing but he was a man. A man who was capable
of making a decision for himself… who wasn’t doing great in exercising his free will lately.

Zoro walked to the wardrobe, yawned and opened it. He shook his head at the garments tightly
packed inside. The cook must be so proud of his little success for wasting money on unnecessary
shit. Zoro also wanted to question himself why he let the cook do that to him in the first place but it
was the matter for another time. It was 9.30 AM and he felt like a coffee. A cup of Iris coffee with
the generous help of Brandy would do nicely to his sleepy mind. He would do some thinking later.

The swordsman had absolutely no idea why he would need so many clothes and what’s to do with
it, he also never heard about mixing and matching outfits before. He did what that made sense to
him which was to randomly grab something from the hangers and be done with it. He scolded at
himself when found out he just picked a black long sleeve turtleneck -- he was never fond of long
sleeve shirts; it clung to his arms, overheated him and obstructed his movements –- but he was too
stubborn to backtrack and decide to bear with it. At least, he did get green military pants. Anything
but slacks was a victory.
But Zoro couldn’t find his haramaki.

As he put on his boots, Zoro made his way to the kitchen to get his breakfast then he would
confront the cook about his missing belly warmer. The cook would be answering his swords if he
dared dump Zoro’s beloved haramaki.

Zoro usually used the staff’s exit door to get to the kitchen so he didn’t have to go through the main
door connected to the dining hall where customers were having meals. This meant that if the damn
door didn’t move which it did and he ended up on the first-floor patio staring at the gate to the
dining hall. Too hungry and annoyed to find the exit door, the swordsman pushed the door open.
His plan to go unnoticeable evaporated the moment he stepped inside. A group of five ladies sitting
by the window immediately locked their eyes on him like an eagle to its prey.

“Hey, handsome over here!”

Great.

Zoro looked around, trying to find the waiters but seeing none in the vicinity that hadn’t been busy
serving or taking orders. Well, Zoro had choices; he could ignore the women but he doubted they
wouldn’t make the scene, drawing more attention to him. He braced himself, taking a deep breath
and walking to their table.

“I’m not a waiter here,” he told them but realized that it might come out quite a blunt. “But I can
pass on your order to the staff if you want,” he added, hoping he sounded polite enough. He was
never good at playing nice and smiling, especially to women -- that was the cook’s job, not him.

The girls, however, let out high-pitched giggles which he guessed mean they were happy? But the
way they were looking at him under their eyes lashes made Zoro want to shudder.

“Oh, god, he’s so hot!” the ginger head whispered to her friends like Zoro wasn’t just standing
there watching them gossip about him like he was a piece of meat. He didn't like it. The longer he
stood there, the more it drained off his life source.

“I’m so jealous, right now!” the black-head one sighed.

“But the other one is cute too!” the blond one reminded her friends. They looked at each other
knowingly and cooed. “They are so cute!”

Yup, Zoro wasn’t really born for this.

“Oi, if you don’t want anything, I’m leaving.”

“Please wait! Oh, we just want to give you our congratulations!” The redhead girls beamed, taking
no offends to his snappy attitude.

Zoro frowned, “For what--“

“Zoro-sannnnnnn, you must be hungry!”

Suddenly, a group of the waiters popped up behind him, almost from thin air. It startled the girls.
Zoro turned to look at them confusingly, catching on the panic in their voice. One of the waiters
saw the girls looking like they still want to talk to Zoro and decided to deviate their attention from
him, “Ma’am what may I help you, need more tea? ready to order your desserts? Apologies for
making you wait, anything you desire!”

Meanwhile, Zoro was not-so-gently pushed back into the kitchen where the cooks greeted him
politely, giving him a glass of wine and fetching him the breakfast he usually had to collect by
himself. Even Zoro was thankful for them for saving him from the women, they did act funny
today.

The incident didn’t miss the eyes of the curious senior chefs, though.

“Why the fuck you lot act like a herd of scaredy-cats today?” Patty scratched his head, looking at
his subordinates who literally jumped at his remark.

“We are fine, chef!” the cooks replied with the nervous laughter.

Zeff cackled mischievously from his soup station. The simple-minded idiots. They were so easy.

He knew the staff would try to hide the news from the Eggplant in fear of the brat grilling their
asses which, to be honest, wasn’t a far-fetched possibility. He had been the pain in everyone’s
asses since the preparation started, screeching and tolerating no single mistake. Like a bridezilla,
except he was no bride, and too stupid to realize he was going to get married.

The staff’s scheme to keep the Eggplant in the dark wouldn’t last very long. The cat would be out
of the bag. Give or take a couple of days, the shitty brat would stress himself and then he would
want to leave the boat to shop for himself and the greenhead kid again.

Nonetheless, the idiots did do the work for him even they had no idea about it, giving Zeff more
than enough time to try cracking the other egghead brat whom he hoped wouldn’t be too stupid to
not see the obvious.

37.

Zoro took a tray of his breakfast and used the exit door to go eat his food outside, alone. Sanji and
he had breakfast separately because, by the time Zoro got up, the cook already finished his
breakfast. Their different working hours -- Zoro and his nightly fishing, the cook and his day job–
made it impossible for them to wake up at the same time.

But it was fine. Zoro treasured having a quiet time for himself. He liked eating his breakfast in
solitude, in the crow nest where no human could bother him with chitchats. He always liked it up
here.

He enjoyed the caress of the sea breezes on his hair and face and the view was also nice. Blue,
calm and infinite. On one fine day, it was hard to tell where the sky ended and the sea began, they
were all blue, like its name. The cook was better at words than him. Zoro could picture him saying
some profound about the scenery, wagging poems about it. Only if the bastard could take his ass
out of the office to come to appreciate the sea that he did discover.

Zoro slowly munched on his rice balls. So far, his morning was good, normally good. It would
have been better though if he had found some good booze for his sea appreciation. The cook
usually kept his cupboard full to prevent Zoro from raiding the wine cellar. He might be really busy
to forget to restock. Zoro added it to one of the things he had to complain to the cook tonight.

As he was pondering, the swordsman felt the mast shaking slightly. he closed his eye and focused.
It was caused by a kick, a good one. He felt no malice in the kick and from its signature force, the
kicking technique was almost identical to the cook’s fighting style but not quite strong to be one of
his teasing kicks. And there were just two people in the ship who kicked. He wondered what Zeff
wanted from him this time.

Zoro’s relationship with the cook’s father was never explicitly defined. He guessed it was neutral
at most? He admired Zeff, though. In Zoro’s book, whoever raised the cook deserved all the praises
but he never talked about it and Zeff wasn’t exactly a talkative man, always conveying his feelings
through actions which Zoro couldn’t help but agree with his method. So, they didn't talk. They
coexisted. Their interactions had always been minimal, out of necessity, and Sanji-oriented.

He looked down from his spot, trying to gauge what the man wanted. From the deck, Zeff hollered.

“Where the heck is your manner!? In my time, people don’t greet their elder from a crow nest-- get
your ass down here!”

Zoro unconsciously scurried down as he was told, almost landing on his ass which wasn’t actually
cool for a man of his status. He quickly got up and glared at the shorter old man to cover up his
embarrassment. Zeff looked at the dented spot on the deck where Zoro landed and gave the
swordsman an unimpressed stare.

“One day, you will be the cause of this ship to founder. The Eggplant will have a hissy fit.”

Zoro crossed his arms defensively, “I know how to control my body.”

Zeff snorted but dropped the subject. That was when Zoro noticed that the old man didn’t come
barehanded. He had a bottle of aged Brandy with him. The golden liquor looked divinely alluring.

“Let’s talk, kid,” Zeff grinned, knowing he now had the alcoholic swordsman’s undivided
attention.

38.

They found a quiet corner on the second-floor patio. Zeff sat on the chair while Zoro made himself
comfortable on the ground, leaning his back on the wall. He offered the booze to the old man to
have the first sip because Roronoa Zoro knew how to be respectful to the seniors, mind you. Even
if the only etiquette he knew was the drinking etiquette.

Zeff laughed heartily, genuinely appreciating the young man's offer.

“No, thank. You can keep all of it. I have this.” The old chef pulled out a cigar from an ivory tube.
Zoro watched with interests as Zeff prepared his cigar, cutting it with a weird cutter ("It’s called a
guillotine, boy"). He was no smoker and saw no point in inhaling smokes when booze was much
more fulfilling, but there was something reverent about the way that cigar was prepared. The old
man looked cool.

“What?” Zeff asked, feeling the boy’s stare on him.

“Never saw you smoke before," he said. He said the old man drank multiple times but never once
smoked.
“Who do you think gave the Eggplant the stupid idea to destroy his lungs in the first place? Trying
to cut back, though. Proud of the progress, then doc said now I should try sober up too, the prick.”

Zoro let out a fainted smile because the story made him think of a certain doctor. He didn’t know
what to say to the old man so he took a swig of the brandy and almost moaned because it was such
a great brandy. “This’s good.”

“Of course, it is. Who do you think taking care of all the booze on this ship? The Eggplant? Don’t
make me laugh.”

They both snickered. The cook possessed a vast knowledge of liquor and how to use them in
cooking but still couldn’t drink to save his ass.

“How could a good drinker like you raise such a lightweight?”

“Try to do some parenting yourself, boy. You’d soon learn that even parents can't control his
child’s shit tastes.”

“Fair enough.”

“Still, good for his liver.”

Zoro chucked a generous gulp of brandy and sighed happily. “I couldn’t imagine my life without
booze. I salute you for your strong resolution, then.” He nodded to the smoking old man on the
chair next to him. Zeff shrugged. “It’s not that hard -- All you ever need is to start thinking
carefully what you really need in your life, boy.”

“I just need this,” Zoro said, staring at the booze in his hand adoringly.

“For the man who aims for the very top he prepared to die for, you are ridiculously modest at
living the life.”

The bottle froze against his lips. Zoro furrowed his brows as he was pretty sure he had just been
scolded for no reasons. Without warning, the somewhat amiable atmosphere between them had
changed. That reminded him; the old man wasn’t naturally an altruistic person who was willing to
give Zoro free booze without expecting something in return.

Zoro sighed. “What do you really want from this talk, old man?” he asked, going straight to the
point, never a person to beat around the bush. Little did he know that his no-nonsense attitude was
something Zeff liked about him.

“I want to make sure that you are a man who isn’t too stupid to let one life-time chance slip away
when it’s staring at his stupid face.”

“I’m not stupid,” Zoro scoffed.

“How could I tell, when you look like one, speak like one and act like one?” Zeff couldn’t resist
himself to mock because, in spite of the differed personalities, the Broccoli boy exuded the same
energy of the Eggplant, which meant he should be bullied. Also, it was always fun seeing the kids
who tried to act cool getting embarrassed.

Zoro, on the other hand, wasn’t happy about the situation. Zeff observed him, seeing him sulking
silently. However, it was abruptly changing into a real irritated one. But it wasn’t the one for Zeff.
He watched as the swordsman stood up and walked away from the corner of the patio they had sat
for half an hour, to look down at the ruckus happening on the decks below. His curiosity was
piqued.

A ship was departing from the restaurant’s decks, on board was a group of loud, pompous bastards
that were dumping their trash on the sea while jeering and hollering at the angry waiters, thinking
they were out of the reach of the fighting staff.

“Stinky restaurant on the stinky sea!” They sneered.

Well, it wasn’t Zeff’s first time to witness feuds between his staff and arrogant customers who
thought they were gods. And sadly, it wasn’t his first time either to see customers dumping
garbage in the sea whether they intended it or not. Even the legendary sea couldn’t escape man’s
pollution.

It saddened him that some ungrateful pricks could sail to this beautiful sea now. The Eggplant was
distraught. They made big signs around the ship telling customers not to dump their shit into the
sea. Most of them followed. But there were always the idiots. Like this group who chose to ignore
it.

Whose boat just got cut in half.

Zeff saw the shitty customers’ victorious expression morphed into the one of horror as their ship
was sinking. They were screaming and pleading for help, having no choices but to swim back to
the decks where the waiters were cracking their knuckles, waiting to gut them.

Zeff snorted at the pathetic sight below.

Clink.

The sound of the blade slipped back into its saya. Standing beside Zeff, the swordsman watched
the scene below like nothing happened. And Zeff realized he didn’t even see the man unsheathe his
sword in the first place.

“What? They trashed the shit cook’s sea,” Zoro said when he realized he was being
watched, thinking he was going to get another scold for destroying the customers’ ship.

When he ploughed the seas as the fearsome pirate, Zeff never thought one day he would become a
father. He lived in the present and let his future be decided by fate. When it gave him a son, as
confused as he was back then, he accepted. It turned out to be the greatest gift that ever been
granted to his life. Thinking back, there were small signals here and there that Lady Fortuna was
telling him to buckle up for the upcoming brat.

If the godforsaken rock made him realize the starving runt was the son he needed, this ship
incident might be fate telling him again that this dumb idiot was the son-in-law he’d want.

39.

Zoro was frustrated. He hated losing. He was never the man to shy away from fights, say it was
sword fighting or verbal quarreling. The cook knew first-hand that he was the man who gave as
good as he got. But that was one thing about fighting a person of your equal and fighting his father.
Even more, he was confused by Zeff’s baffling words. Did he just imply that there was something
out there that Zoro needed in his life and failed to get it? Something that even he himself didn’t
know it.

“Bullshit,” said Zoro to the wind. What kind of a man would he be if he didn’t know himself? He
would know what he wanted. He always knew what he wanted or else how he supposed to control
his fate? The old man was full of shit.

But he couldn’t shake the old man’s taunt out of his head.

He skipped the lunch to meditate but found no answer to his restlessness.

Zoro woke up when the sky was dark. He climbed down from the crow nest and went to the
kitchen for his dinner. A certain cook shared a similar idea of skipping lunch like Zoro, according
to the kitchen staff. The cook had been absent the entire day, locking himself up in his personal
kitchen, and working. It was likely that he might not be planning to come out for dinner as well.

Zoro found the cook in his room, wrapping up himself in blankets like a giant cocoon with
crumbled and littered papers on the floor.

“You skipped dinner.”

He heard the unintelligible noises coming out from the cocoon.

“Are you dead yet?”

“I wish so,” the cook lamented, popping his head out of the blankets to look at him tiredly.
Someone clearly didn't have a good day.

“Shame.”

Zoro went to place a plate of sandwiches on the cook’s head who returned his nice-ness by
scrutinizing Zoro’s attire.

“Are you blind?”

“My eye is working fine, shit cook.”

“Yes, you are,” said the cook, pretending not to hear him, “turtlenecks are to wear with slacks, you
fucking fashion nightmare.”

“My crotch would suffer.”

“That's why there is baby powder.”

“Isn’t baby powder for a baby?”

“I’m living with a caveman,” Sanji mumbled to himself, resigned.

“And I’m living with the prince of a stupid kingdom,” Zoro fired back. Sanji bristled and wriggled
out of the blanket cocoon, possibly planning to kick him, all the while balancing the plate on his
head which was quite an impressive feat if Zoro wasn’t used to seeing him doing it for years. No,
that wasn’t what made Zoro’s jaw dropped. Or made his brain circuits fired.
The cook. He was wearing Zoro’s green coat. He wore it like a sleeping gown with nothing else.

“You…is that my coat?”

The cook blushed, cursing himself under his breath. How could he be this careless to be caught?
By Marimo, of all people.

“You disowned it. I took it. It’s mine now. And knock next time.”

“You always burst into my room, shitty cook. Where is my haramaki? Are you wearing my
haramaki inside my coat?"

“It IS my coat now and I never wear that disgusting thing. I washed it. In fact, I accidentally
washed it along with all my sleepwear. This thing happened to be available.”

“Very convenient.”

“Indeed. Drop it or get lost.”

Zoro still had to borrow the cook’s razor which was why he couldn’t corner the cook. An
embarrassed Sanji was a least cooperative Sanji.

He changed the topic.

“What made you lie on the bed like a loser before I came, Blondie?”

The cook hesitated and let out a sigh looking troubled, “I tested the recipes for Luffy’s cake. The
results weren’t satisfactory. The anniversary is approaching and I haven't got everything figured
out yet!”

“What’s wrong with the cake?”

“Lots.”

“So you went to bed earlier to sulk.”

“No, idiot. I’m writing a letter.” Sanji, then fetched out his notebook and a quill from under the
blanket.

“Huh?”

“Well, I’m a cook, not a pâtissier. I think maybe it’d be wise to consult one. Perhaps she could give
me a bit of solid advice.”

Zoro didn't like the direction they were heading. "Who?"

“My Pudding-chan.”

“I’m not eating that woman’s cake.” Zoro immediately drew the line, without thinking.

Sanji gawked, completely speechless. "Are you insane?! I need all the help I can get!"

“Look, you have time, stupid. Don’t rush. I’ll help,” suggested casually the moss as if his half-ass
excuses of help could be compared to Pudding-chan’s wisdom but Sanji didn't want to burden the
sweet lady with his unworthy request.
“As if a dumb animal like you could,” Sanji huffed but didn’t shoot down the offer. Still, baking
was the topic Zoro was the least qualified to help. He doubted he could be any of help. But Sanji
would let the man entertain the thought of being useful.

40.

To other people, Sanji was a gifted chef. Only a few knew how many hours he spent in the
kitchen. A technique that he effortlessly commanded, that impressed many onlookers, Zoro knew
how hard it took the cook, who practised over and over, to perfect it.

Zoro was one of the few whom the cook allowed to witness his failure; he viewed it as a symbol of
trust. And he wanted to monopolize this privilege.

Zoro sat on the cook’s dressing table, flipping through the cook’s notebook while the cook was
nibbling on his sandwich on the bed. You had to trust someone like the cook who went on to write
an entire book about cake recipes. From the notes, Luffy’s wedding cake had 8 tiers of different
flavours. It seemed Sanji's plan was to dedicate each tier to each of the Strawhats. The cook wanted
it to be special. After all, it was their first reunion in 5 years.

“Your handwriting is as scrawny as you,” Zoro commented, trying to be a critic. The cook glared
at him.

The first page discussed Luffy’s cake. It read:

He eats everything. The indulgence chocolate cake recipe will do that glutton: cocoa powder and
chocolate bars *East-Blue import only*, maybe add a little splash of chocolate liquor to give this
moistest cake of its rich chocolate-y flavor…

Zoro’s eye widened at the size of Luffy’s cake that the cook planned to bake.

“Do you even have an oven large enough to bake the cake that's the size of a small boat?”

“Already commissioned it to be made. Next.”

“Don’t you think you're overdoing it?”

“I don’t do thing half-ass, third-rate swordsman.”

Next was the sea witch’s cake, (“my sweet Nami-san!”)

Unlike that gluttonous buffoon of a captain, my sea goddess has a delicate taste but years of
servitude to the sweetest, most beautiful navigator has prepared me for the job… (blah blah) She
loves tangerines and fruits; a chiffon orange cake: orange juice, orange zest and Grand Mariner
for the fragrance and flavour. Tarty and sweet the way she adores. Finish with candied
clementines and almond slices.

“There are spots on the page. Eew, did you drool over it, pervert cook?”

“Shut up.”
Usopp is not picky about food, will eat anything as long as it isn’t poisonous. He loves to play with
food. Banoffee cake with a special caramel recipe: sticky and bendable. Dark rum, fresh banana
slices, and salted caramel…

Zoro was impressed by how the cook memorized their Nakama's favorites and table habits to
details. But there was one thing in his mind...

“Did you pick this cake because banana resembles Usopp’s long nose?”

“No! Well…partly.”

Zoro snickered.

Chopper’s cake is easy to design for. Cotton candy cake: colorful and sweet. A classic vanilla cake
*real vanilla beans* Fluffiest, spongey cake with caramelized popcorns , candies, chocolate
bonbons, and pink cotton candy. Perhaps a splash of bourbon…

“Did you plan to add bourbon in Chopper’s cake?!”

“Shit. did I?!”

“No alcohol in Chopper’s cake," Zoro said.

“No alcohol in Chopper’s cake," Sanji repeated.

So far, he didn’t see the problem in the cake, the cook had it all figure out. He flipped the page and
from spots of dried saliva, he knew whose the next cake design belonged to.

My Robin-chan (suspicious kiss-mark-like stains) likes her dessert not overly sweet. Cinnamon
coffee cake: a cup of brewed coffee to add into the batter along with brandy and cinnamon.
Allspice to underline the sweetness of the buttery cake and the bitterness of the coffee.

From many crossed-out ideas, Zoro saw how the cook struggled with Franky’s. But he seemed to
come up with an idea that satisfied him at last.

He is the tricky one. Loves everything that is greasy and goes well with cola – that hardly works
well on a cake – that unless you are a lesser cook, which I’m not. A birthday cake with creative
tweaks. In the batter, add whiskey, cola extract, a generous amount of sprinkles. Blue buttercream
frosting, more sprinkles, pretzels, and salted potato chips.

“Unbelievable. Did you just compliment yourself in your notes?”

“Shut up. I didn’t ask for your opinion.”

Brook will get an iris tea cake with dried fruits and nuts soaked well in his favorite tea brand.
Almonds and hazelnuts are good for his bones, high in calcium. A bit of rum.

From the trend, the next page was supposed to be Zoro’s but it was blank with a few pages being
ripped off.

“Where is my cake design?”

Sanji looked utterly ashamed, wearing the face of a man whose pride was wounded. Zoro grinned
because he was a bastard who couldn't pass a chance to rub it in his rival's face. “So, you’re stuck
because you didn’t know what to get for me? We've lived together, cook. I’m heartbroken.”

“Shut up! Shut up! It isn’t my fault that your heart’s so black that you dislike sweets!”

“Jeeh, don’t get your panty in a twist. It’s just a cake. Just get me whatever you want to make,"
said Zoro, trying to pacify the cook.

Sanji straightened himself and looked at Zoro with his visible blue eye; he was being serious.
“You know it isn’t just a cake for me. This is my pride as a chef, stupid moss. I want this to be
special to all of us, that includes you.” Zoro didn't retort his statement because he wasn't cruel and
knew when to stop before his teasing could seriously hurt the cook's feelings. And the cook was
sensitive about cooking.

So, he diverted the flow to something more in the territory of lighthearted bickerings that they both
were comfortable with.

“If you ever trained as hard as you cook, our sparring sessions would be much more challenging,"
Zoro remarked which caused Sanji's forehead veins to pop up.

“Well, even with my half-ass effort, you’re still struggling to keep up with me, Marimo. It
wouldn’t look good if the world knows the strongest swordsman loses to a mere cook, right? I’m
helping you here, you drunkard.”

“As if you could beat me in a thousand year – oi, I have an idea.”

“What?”

“The cake – can you make an alcoholic cake?”

“I put alcohol in almost every cake. Be specific, Marimo.”

“No. I mean, like can you make a cake but with lots of alcohol instead of sugar, milk, and butter?”

“It’ll taste like your vomit.”

“I'll have it. Bet it tastes better than your fancy tooth decay.”

They looked at each other and laughed, thinking the other was so stupid, it was unbelievable. As if
Sanji predicted Zoro was really unhelpful but perhaps it wasn't the help he sought, but the
company. A person who would lend him an ear. Zoro felt the laughter had chased the frustration
he had had since the morning. He concluded that there was no point to try to search his mind for
something he had an unclear picture about what he was looking. He guessed if something was
coming up, he trusted in his instinct he could pick it. For now, he just lived.

"Oi, can I borrow your razor?"

"Only if you bathe first."

41.

It had been two stressful days for the staff of the Baratie, trying to keep the boss and his
swordsman from the news. They distracted the swordsman with booze, hoping he would get shit-
faced and be oblivious to the world (he didn’t.) Thankfully, the head chef was busy with
developing a new recipe to care about anything else. For some reason, the owner-chef didn’t
intervene with their plan. Even when everything went smoothly well, they still felt something in
their gut. Something was coming and it was going to blow up on their faces.

The bringers of the news arrived on the third day after the news had spread. On the gigantic fleet
made of living sea slugs.

42.

The swordsman was the one who first spotted the Germa’s flagship. He watched from the crow
nest; people on the decks were shouting about something but his focus was only on the ship. He
watched. And he waited. When the vessel was in the vicinity of the floating restaurant, he jumped.
His landing broke the decks, sending small wooden pieces everywhere. He could have landed
without causing damages but he saw no reason to hold back.

Standing before him were the people he never met who looked unfazed at small destruction he
caused and one looking quite amused. Zoro never met them before but he’d learned about them, or
what they did, more than enough to know where his stand was on them.

“You aren’t welcome here,” stated Zoro to the Vinsmoke siblings.

“We're no enemies here,” said softly the sole woman on the ship who clearly had the highest rank
in command from her relaxed posture that just oozed superiority.

“Neither are we an ally.”

“Watch your mouth, scoundrel,” snarled the redhead man. Ichiji took a stand in front of his sister,
protectively, the other followed suit. “Who do you think you’re talking to, peasant?!” Yonji yelled,
always the hothead one of the triplets while Niji regarded the swordsman before them with
contempt. He concluded, “A brute with vulgar manners. I say he’s perfect for that black sheep.”

“I think so too, but perhaps for a different reason. Boys, remember why we’re here. Play nice,”
Reiju said in her kind tone that sent chill down the brothers' spines. They mumbled apologies to
their sister and stepped back to stand in the background but still close to her. As much as Reiju
appreciated her brothers' protectiveness. The protection wasn’t needed. They weren't here to battle,
at least not now.

Zoro watched their interactions in silence. He looked uninterested and like what her second brother
summarized in his “brute, vulgar,” but that was when appearances could be deceiving.

This beast. He was intelligent.

Because her brothers were bioengineered to be father's killing machines, they were always lacking
this ability to read into people more than they see, leading to them to always underestimate their
human opponents. But not Reiju who had spent all her life in the seas. She remembered the
very first lesson she was taught of being sea nomads: never trust the calming sea.

He was brutal; it was true. But mindless he sure was not. She saw the way this man looked at
them, appearing nonchalant but quietly gathering information on their body languages, analyzing
their characters so he could take them down if needed. From the looks of things, he wanted to.
Bloodthirsty but disciplined, an interesting combination. Even she was quite proud of Germa’s
military force after years she had spent on its reform and they had become stronger. But he was the
Swordsman. He sure was going to be a handful if they really did have to fight.

Fortunately, they didn’t have to. She didn’t travel across the world to fight her soon-to-be brother-
in-law. It had been such a long time when she last saw her brother, the kind one. Whose
compassion was his greatest strength, yet also his weakness. The brief moments they shared she
learned how strong he had become and saw what a kind of a hothead he was, easily losing his
composure when his friends were endangered. He needed someone who could be the anchor he
could rely on.

She thought he chose well. Such a specimen Sanji found.

Reiju gave Roronoa a sincere smile when their eyes met.

“I wish to converse with my brother preferably in a private setting if you don’t mind.”

“Why?”

“To congratulate him on his engagement, you idiot. For crying out loud, why do you think we
travelled this far!?” Yonji interrupted because patience was never his strong suit. He didn’t
understand why they were still standing, keeping their ground on the outside where the sun was
scorching hot, having Sanji’s bloodhound glaring at them. If they weren’t going to fight the fiancé,
then he was rather be invited inside the establishment for something to eat. This wasn't how guests
were supposed to be treated and he was a prince!

The Vinsmokes saw the swordsman’s eye darkened after Yonji’s interjection. His stance shifted to
one of his offensive forms. One sword was unsheathed with the blade pointing at them. Out of the
blue, he became pissed.

"Like hell. Not this time."

“Maybe it’s time to transform, sister,” Ichiji calmly suggested his sister while the others already
had their hands on the raid-suit canisters. “We might not be welcome here,” he said.

Reiju gave out a sad smile to her brother. She understood why Sanji wouldn’t want anything to do
with them and had prepared her mind to be rejected. It was just. Her selfishness. That brought her
brothers with her. She just wanted to see Sanji again. To see that he was happy and maybe to tell
him that she tried and everyone at the Gemma tried to clean up Judge's legacy and to make their
kingdom more like a kingdom and the family more like a real one, even she knew Sanji had
discovered his home already. “We’re intruding, brothers. I think it’s best for us to just…”

She didn’t finish the sentence because appearing on the sky was Sanji who dropped himself down
beside the angry swordsman.

And kicked him in the gut.

“That’s my sister, you were pointing your sword at, you idiot!”

“I’m trying to save your ass here, shit cook! They were planning to ambush you again for another
arranged marriage scheme!” The swordsman was back to his feet and yelled at Sanji.
“What?! I never need you to save me, you incompetent swordsman!”

“And who needed the saving the last time he got kidnapped, huh?”

“That wasn’t kidnapping! I was blackmailed!”

“Hey, we are still right here.” Niji waved his hand but was ignored.

After listening to their quarrel, Reiju was pretty sure something got 'significantly' lost in the
translation. She cleared her throat to call for Sanji’s attention. Her golden-hair brother stopped
immediately which caused the swordsman to stop as well.

“There is a misunderstanding here that I want to clarify. We are here, not in the name of
Germa, but a sister, and brothers, Sanji. We just want to give you our congratulations to your
engagement with Mr. Swordsman here.”

Yonji thought, finally.

Being civilized was tiring but finally that the tension had unravelled and that they were going to be
invited inside and he would have something to eat. Finally. Little did he know.

Little did he know.

 Chapter 5
Chapter Notes

** Warning: This chapter contains a few spoilers from One Piece's Wano arc (chapter
909-944)**

See the end of the chapter for more notes

43.

Oh.

Oh, shit.

Was this what the old man had been implying about on the other days? He was being cryptic as
hell. How Zoro could have made the right guess?

This was what was on the swordsman’s mind after he finished reading the newspapers of the three
days ago, that the Vinsmokes conveniently had in their ship and were being high-minded enough to
have a servant fetch the newspapers for them to read. That, or they were growing tired of listening
to the cook’s accusation of them lying, together with his faltering denial – that Zoro and he were
NOT in the relationship.

Like being in a relationship with me is a bad thing. Shitty cook, thinking he’s the one who can
choose. As if I WANTED to be with you.

It simply irritated Zoro no end.

Still, the final missing piece finally came together to give answers to the questions that had been
bothering Zoro’s mind lately. The old man’s mysterious remark, the unsettling stare – also, the
staff’s new-found servile attitude toward him which was weird as fuck. On the brighter side, all of
this stuff let Zoro know that something had been off. They kinda helped him prepare his mind for
whatever going to blow up when it exploded.

That was why he was just shocked and not having a cardiac arrest. It was like crashing on the
ground but at the last moment getting to land on Luffy’s rubbery belly, still hurt because rubber
wasn’t meant for comfort, but at least there was something between him and the ground absorbing
some force from the impact. The cook, on the other hand, was oblivious, too caught up in his
cooking performance issue to notice the warning signs. He took all the damages.

Now, his face was making some colour changes.

The Vinsmokes and Zoro watched as it changed from ghostly white to embarrassed red before its
owner igniting himself on fire. Literally.

Curly is always dramatic.

44.

This was NOT funny.

At first, he thought it was a joke. A freaking sick prank with the aim to humiliate him. Because that
was the only kind of humour the Vinsmokes were capable of making. But, the worried look on
Reiju's face was too sincere. Then, when the servant came back with the newspapers...

The anniversary meant a lot to him. He made sure everyone on the ship know it. It was the
important day he was looking forward to the most because they would be celebrating, and Zoro
and he would be meeting their friends again. He wanted it to be perfect. For months, he had many
bad dreams about the 101 ways of how the anniversary day could get fucked up. He had been
working tirelessly to prevent it from getting fucked up. Now, he felt like he was living in one of his
nightmares. The reality just won the fucking first place and the shitty prize, because - damn his
luck.

Sanji had handled the news like a fucking champ. No one dared say otherwise or he was gonna
lose it.

How badly he wanted to close the restaurant, go back to the kitchen and fucking destroyed the
bastards that had made him look like a fool in front of the fucking Vinsmokes, and, lords had
mercy for them, the whole fucking world. But despite all the shits he wanted to ‘talk’ to his men
right now, he was a chef. He was a professional chef. He couldn’t just kick the customers out so he
could kick his employees’ asses. And despite the estranged relationship he had with his siblings, he
couldn’t not invite them to eat.

“Find seats for the guests and get them the lunch menus. Tonight, we will talk. I want every
single one of you in the kitchen by 10, got it?” He told the closest waiter who stuttered a weak
"yes, sir", before hurriedly leading the Vinsmokes to their table.

Sanji didn’t encounter a single soul on his way to his quarter. The self-preservative bastards must
have warned each other and made themselves scarce, knowing that Sanji would have kicked them
to Skypia and back if he’d even spot one.

Well, they would die anyway tonight, considering this as his last act of benevolence.

What he hated the most about this whole ordeal was that it’d complicated his relationship with
Zoro. He didn’t see the reaction from the moss. Moss was never an expressive species. All he ever
saw was Zoro's face half-covered by the shadow. After that Sanji was too angry, too embarrassed,
and too afraid to look at the swordsman again. He directed all of his attention to the Vinsmokes and
the staff.

What if the idea weirds him out?

Gods, it was so embarrassing. It was so awkward. Their friendship had been going so well. Then,
this happened. He felt like the two of them had just worked things out and somehow the fucking
bird with the power of media and his crew of morons had to conspire against him. Zoro went
missing on their way back to the Baratie only added the fuel to Sanji’s anxiety.

Sanji was so going to murder his crew tonight.

45.

From her chamber’s window, it seemed the crescent moon finally ascended to the sky. Its pale
moonlight made the sea look so serene and shimmering. She finally understood why All Blue had
occupied the mind of the sailors for hundreds of years.

It simply was breathtaking.

Easiest the most beautiful sea in the world, thought Reiju, taking a break to rest her eyes from the
book to appreciate the view. Up here, she also had a good view of the floating restaurant, looking
humbly small on the vast ocean, and being dwarfed by the Germa’s ship.

From up here, everything looked quiet and peaceful. But Reiju knew that there was the commotion
happening right now on the floating restaurant. If her relationship with the ship’s captain was… in
a better condition, Reiju would love to get down there and join them. She loved fun. But she cared
more about her brother. She didn’t think he could take more stress than he’d got in his hand, and
she never wanted to create a new reason for him to be wary of her.

When she heard the news and they made the decision to come, she was worried that they might not
be welcome or that their presence would ruin his important day. But the desire for reconciliation
was stronger so they gambled, with the heart preparing for rejection. He did freak out. However,
for a totally unexpected reason. It looked like the Vinsmokes’ appearance was on the last list of his
concerns right now.

She didn’t know how to feel about it. But it had been an interesting day.

He sought her out shortly after the dinner was finished. Because he was a considerate man who
even was feeling troubled, still wanted to make sure she felt comfortable. She supposed he must get
some issues solved even temporarily. He looked less distracted than he was on her ship, still
stressed out and tired.

They exchanged a few words of courtesy and when he asked about 'him',

“How is your father?”

He might look calm but talking about her father was still hard for Sanji. He disowned the name
and cut all ties with Judge. He really didn’t have to ask about him; he could even outright insult
him and she would understand. But he chose to ask because Judge, for all the horrible things he
had committed, was still Reiju’s father and Reiju still cared for him. Sanji cared about her feeling,
so he asked about the absence of her family member. And knowing him, even he couldn’t care for
that man as a son, Sanji’s heart was still big enough to care for him, as a human to another
human. He didn’t ask just to be polite, he was genuinely concerned.

“I have banished him three years ago,” Reiju told him.

He looked shocked by the revelation.

"To the island where our mother rests for eternity, I’ve detained him there to repent his crimes.”
"I’m so sorry.”

“No. I hope he is sorry,” Reiju said firmly, “I haven’t come this long way to burden you with this
heavy news. It’s your jovial time.”

“I feel like celebrating right now,” He sassed.

“I hope we could be there to celebrate with you.”

“Of course, you are invited… your brothers too if they aren’t being the big assholes. But to make it
clear it’s not…a wedding.” He blushed. “Now if you excuse me, I have to have a few words with
my crew.”

“Thank you for having us,” back in your life, “brother.”

“Thank you for coming…sister.”

“My, my. I’m popular tonight,” she hummed to herself. A minute later, her door was knocked.

“Come in.”

“We are sorry to intrude your private time, sister,” said Ichiji while the other bowed their heads in
respect.

“Don’t be sorry. The night’s still young. What can I do for you, brothers?”

“We’ve learned that Sanji’s marriage was simply a miscommunication; there will be no wedding to
attend. What are we supposed to be doing?” Niji asked, always the methodical person. The
brothers still wanted her to order them around, like how their father used to do, using his own sons
like some pawns. She wouldn’t repeat his mistake.

“What did you think of today?” Reiju gently prodded, using the question to get them to talk about
their feelings. She had been trying to help them to get acquainted with their human sides that
weren’t just disdain and arrogance.

“The hospitality was terrible,” Yonji immediately voiced his complaint. He was the most
expressive among the triplets while his two older brothers were much more reserved and hesitant.
“But the food was delicious,” he concluded reluctantly.

“The meeting went unexpected,” Ichiji still tried to analyze the situation. He paused when realizing
that he was going to process data again. “I liked the food too.”

Niji nodded in agreement.

“It surely was delicious,” Reiju smiled encouragingly.

“What is your opinion, dear sister? Have we travelled for nought as Sanji isn’t going to marry the
swordsman?”

“I do not know. But I think there is plenty of time before the day. Everything can happen and
whatever it’s to happen, our role remains the same,” Reiju looked at them meaningfully and they
understood.

Wedding or not. The whole world had known that the Strawhat was going to assemble on that day,
including the World Government and the Marine. Morgans' headlines did frame the assembly in a
way that could be viewed as a mockery to their authority. The outlaws that just publicly invited the
other scoundrels to their wedding in a newspaper, with no fear nor respect for the law. The Marine
was going to move soon, likely planning to make an example out of the couple. It was going to be a
war, perhaps the largest one the pirates had ever had in these five peaceful years.

That was why many Strawhat alliance fleets were heading to the All Blue right now.

“Fun times,” the brothers grinned at each other. Reiju just shook her head at her warhead brothers.
Sometimes, she had to compromise and accept the fact that old dogs couldn’t be taught a new trick.
They were improving though.

While her brothers discussing among themselves about the warfare. Reiju’s mind went back to the
‘couple’.

Still, she was surprised when it was revealed that they weren’t going to marry. Even more
surprised when Sanji vehemently denied that they weren’t even lovers. The swordsman – when her
brother appeared – had changed into a totally different man, from a bloodhound to a house dog.
The way they acted around each other. It was hard to mistake the body language when they were
so blatant. The way he looked at Sanji and immediately took a step back to stand beside him, they
were equal so he’d let him handle the situation; he trusted him. He sheathed his swords, he
wouldn’t intervene; he was being respectful. His hand was still on the swords, he wouldn’t hesitate
to unsheathe; protectiveness.

Reiju wondered if Sanji realized how much power had over one man. So, this is love, hmm.

“Oh, another thing, Reiju-oneesan, does that man know it’s our crow nest that he has been sitting
in the whole time?”

She might have been spacing out because Niji’s question startled her a little. The brothers were
looking at her curiously.

“Oh. Him,” she chuckled, “I think he will come down eventually. There is plenty of time for him
to return to his place before we’re departing tomorrow for the island where we’ll be staying until
the wedding day.”

“If he doesn’t, I’m kicking him out. This ship needs no other green guy but me,” Yonji puffed out
his cheeks.

46.

Zoro thought this might be the time to climb up the crow nest and start on a meditation.

He knew he was a goal-oriented person. Like a racing horse, he only had eyes on the winning line
and nothing else mattered when he was racing. Because of this very nature of his, he got called an
insensitive brute a lot, mostly by the witch and the cook.

The truth was Zoro processed things at his own pace.

If it was in his specialized field, his home turf, he knew right away what to do with the
information; he could find a way to utilize even the smallest detail to secure the victory. Of course,
there was the better man for the strategist job and Zoro let the cook play the role while he made
himself content with cutting down his enemies. But he knew his game. In the battlefield, he was
quick. He was observant. His instinct was always reliable.

But this. The things that involved emotions; feelings were swiftly flickering, annoying things. They
were evasive and fragile. They… overwhelmed him. And it always had something to do with
words which he was never good at.

Zoro knew, in his abrupt departure to find the nearest crow nest, he’d sent the wrong message to
the cook. But if he was to do it right, he needed time for self-reflection. Knowing his limitation, he
couldn’t have given anything useful in that situation. If he had rushed, it would have ruined things
that they had built together in the past five years -- that had become his most valuable possession.
He was a full-grown man now and he wouldn’t repeat the same mistake of his younger self by
running his mouth carelessly.

He sat cross-legged on the iron floor and close his eye, letting his mind rewind the day event.
Here, he was watching them in the seat of an observer, collected and unbiased.

He concentrated on reviewing the facts he had learned today first because they were the easiest
part to unravel this mess of emotional entanglement.

So, here was the rumour on a global scale saying they were going to wed on the day that supposed
to be the restaurant’s anniversary. Zoro wasn’t interested in how or who that started the rumour. It
already happened. He opted to focus on the more important questions: what would be happening
next.

Unexpectedly, the question was quite easy to answer. After cooling down, the cook would do some
damage control. He would beat some people, call some people, and threaten a certain press. But
that was it. The cook could handle it by himself, without Zoro’s help. All he might have to do was
to endure some awkward moments between them for a length of time but eventually, it would die
down and things would return to normal like it used to be.

But should it?

The voice buzzed in his thought, with its disappointing tone. It startled Zoro, almost forcing him
out of the trance. Zoro had to spend a few moments to get himself back into the state of composure.
Then, he thought about it.

He found out that not a single part of his body was against the idea of marrying the cook. In fact, it
sounded… right.

If he had to marry someone, it should be someone as strong as the cook.

Or the cook.

….

In a different circumstance, when his mind started wandering into the territory of unexplored
imagination, Zoro would backtrack, quickly going back to the safe zone where everything was
clear. Today, Zoro allowed his mind to get into the deepest state of trance. It was the mind
sanctuary that he reserved only for the sessions with his swords, where he bared his soul to face the
truth, allowing his innate wisdom to guide him to the path normally invisible to the naked eye so
he could become stronger. He rarely went there; it consumed a lot of energy, often leaving him
breathless and bone-tired afterward.

But he’d been pushing back this investigation for five years. The early days of them living
together, the cook used to demand his explanation of why he stayed. At some point, the cook
stopped asking, perhaps because Zoro always evaded the question.

Because he didn’t know the answer.

His body just wanted to be there; he simply followed its demand because there was no reason to
resist, after all, he had no better place to be. It was instinctual. As he explained himself before, in
his life, he was conscious just about two things: his crew and his dream. Others were just flickering
and unimportant details of life that could be dealt with his gut feeling, no brain needed to be
involved.

The fog that had been clouded his mind finally dissipated. Then, he saw the truth.

Why? He asked the mind, still couldn't believe it.

It answered honestly:

He is strong. His strength captivates you. What is the kind of creature fights like he dances – you
have been wondering. He is deadly as he is elegant. He exhilarates you like no one ever does.

His stupidity frustrates you.

His intelligence impresses you.

His kindness charms you.

His pain breaks you.

There is nothing on and of him that you could dislike.

There is no place you rather be, than with 'your' cook.

'Yours'.

Zoro opened his eye.

“So, that's it?”

It was so simple he wanted to laugh.

Roronoa Zoro was a goal-oriented person.

And he had found a goal.

47.

“You have the gut to lie to me! You gave an interview to that stupid, incompetent bird who
couldn’t fucking get my name right! I’m not a fucking Vinsmoke!”

Zeff had to give it to the Eggplant’s crew. Despite their cowardice, they were man enough to face
the consequence of their action. He thought that maybe a few would leave the crew to save their
asses but it seemed they were all in the room, waiting for the wrath of their boss to end them.

Yeah, but it didn’t mean they weren’t pathetic. The big-ass men clustering together on the one side
of the room, whining and begging for their (smaller) captain's forgiveness while the Eggplant
having a hissy rant. It was too painful to watch. Zeff finally took pity on them.

“Eggplant, you have them crapping their pants already. They have to work tomorrow, ‘member?
Just cut the crap so everyone can go to bed.”

“Shut up, you geezer. You can piss off but I need to find the fucking mole who sold that piece of
fake shit to the fucking bird!”

“Ya talking to him, brat.”

“……”

“……”

One of the staff seized this time to finish his will, while the rest had decided to become religious.

“YOU FUCKING USELESS OLD MAN!?! HOW COULD YOU? YOU’VE RUINED
EVERYTHING!!”

“DON’T YOU DARE RAISE YOUR VOICE AT ME, BOY! AND YOU’VE TRIED MY
PATIENCE!!”

Zoro, obviously, took this as a perfect time to stumble into the room.

48.

He had been wandering down a foreign corridor that he was pretty sure wasn’t Baratie’s for two
hours before being shown the way out by that pink-haired woman. Her all-knowing smile made his
sense go haywire and he was more than relieved to be back on his ship and find the cook.

Which took about another hour, because people seemed to disappear and there was no single soul
to give him the direction to the cook’s whereabouts.

The people in the room had mixed feelings about the swordsman’s sudden appearance or the
reason why he was here. He was the wild card. But the head chef never ignored him, so it meant
their death sentence was being pushed back a little.
The staff were grateful for Roronoa Zoro’s existence.

“Where the fuck have you been?!” As predicted, the cook immediately crossed the floor to the
swordsman, baring teeth at him.

Here, Sanji was trying to concentrate on his rage. He had the subordinates to discipline and the
moss’s stupid face made him remember the embarrassment the news caused. If he flushed, it was
going to be visible on his pale skin and he was not gonna let his crew see their boss fucking
blushing. His unannounced presence was distracting.

He had to get rid of Zoro.

“You know what, I don’t care. I’m busy right now. If you’re hungry, you will get to eat when I
finish with these useless bastards.”

“I’m not hungry,” said the shrub, looking back at Sanji disappointedly like he expected Sanji to
read his stoic face and know of his intention.

Sanji turned his back at Zoro, pointedly ignoring him.

“Oi, cook.”

“What?! Do you want me to filet you along with this useless lot? Piss off!”

“Can’t do. I’m here to tell you something important,” Sanji wrinkled his nose in annoyance before
turning back to the persistent swordsman, tapping his foot impatiently.

“Say it and piss off.”

“Let’s marry, you and me.”

That was how you stop the world from spinning. And kill a cook.

49.

The only person in the room who had positive feedback for the swordsman’s proposal was Zeff
who let out a loud bark of laughter. Patty and Carne who had been the silent spectators to this
point, had their jaws drop to the floor. A few of the weak-minded staff fainted because of the
unbearable tension.

But Sanji couldn’t care any less about the others’ reactions; he was dying.

“What the fuck did you just say!?”

“I said…”

“I know that!!” The cook forcibly yanked on Zoro’s collar and hissed, “are you fucking with me
too? I swear Zoro, I will end you…”
“I’m serious,” replied Zoro and he meant it.

Sanji’s heart started ramming his ribcage like it desperately wanted to be out and in Zoro’s hand.

“Why you… whatever! I refuse!”

Marimo had the gut to look flabbergasted like he didn’t expect a no from Sanji.

“Why!”

“Why, indeed. Tell me what did you hit your skull with to come up with that absurd idea?”

“It’s obvious.”

“Enlighten me.”

The other witnesses in the room instantly held their breath. Some even felt emotionally invested,
silently mouthing, “says: I love you,” to the swordsman who, of course, didn’t see nor hear it. The
two had been tuning out everyone’s voices. They were seeing and hearing no one but the person in
front of them. Sanji was a nervous wreck but he kept the challenging look on.

This is the moment of truth, thought everyone in the room. With the right word, the table could be
turned and lives would be saved, hope was slowly blooming in their chests.

Zoro looked at the cook and –

He huffed.

“Why are you so against the idea of marrying me? Look, you hate the name Vinsmoke, right?
Marry me and you can take mine. Roronoa Sanji. It even makes you sound like a cool person
instead of a shit cook.”

People slapped hands on their faces and groaned.

“Fucking eloquent, ain’t he?” Patty patted Zeff’s shoulder, offering mental support for his boss
during a hard time. Zeff was so done with living among the purebred morons. They didn’t need to
see what’d happen next as the swordsman was flying towards the wall and broke it to million
pieces.

Sanji just stared at the unbelievable man. He opened and closed his mouth several times but
couldn’t find his voice. He let his legs do the talking. Seeing Zoro emerged from the ruined wall
looking like a fool he was must help Sanji regain his voice.

“Go to hell, your moss-for-brains!” screamed the indignant cook before, storming out of the
kitchen.

“You stop!!” On his way to his chamber, Sanji growled at the little voice in his head. First was his
heart, now it was his own mind which betrayed him. The animal brain hadn’t stopped purring with
contentment since Marimo uttered Roronoa Sanji.

Fuck Marimo. Fuck him. Fuck. Fuck.

He was so fucked.

Sanji didn't get any sleep tonight.

50.

There were so many things to do the next morning. On top of running the restaurant and writing a
ton of letters to comfort the beautiful ladies who must have been heartbroken by the news, and to
threaten the fucking press, Sanji also had to try hiding from the moss.

Actually, it wasn’t hiding because hiding implied fear; Sanji Blackleg never feared. He was trying
to avoid him and his new-found madness because it was… annoying, and he wouldn’t be able to
get shit done if he lowered himself to listen to the marimo-headed idiot.

Sanji prayed to gods that Zoro would get lost and never be found again, ever. It almost happened,
with Zoro’s navigational skill, or the lack of it. However, his direction-challenged issue seemed to
take a break today because no one wanted Sanji to catch a break. As he was tip-toeing into the
kitchen, Moss was there, staring him down across the hallway, ready to corner Sanji. Sanji had no
choice but to drag him to a quieter corridor because if they were to have a conversation, he
preferred it not to be where there were the spectators made of his nosy father and subordinates.
God knows, he needed no more embarrassment in his life.

“Marry me, cook?” The unbelievable man opened his trap again. This time though, he phrased it a
little better. The plant might have learned from the mistake last night that this kind of thing should
be asked, not ordered. The tone sounded less like a demand now, but it was still unrefined as hell.

“No,” Sanji replied firmly.

“Why?”

“You know why. And before you open that big mouth of you to bring up that damn name thing
again,” Sanji raised his finger in warning. Zoro, for once, closed his mouth obediently; a good sign
that this sea dog could be taught some sense into him.

“My name is Blackleg Sanji. I’m good with it, thank you.”

“That is your alias,” Zoro pointed out matter-of-factly.

“Still, no,” Sanji growled.

Zoro was nothing but persistent. People who had met the swordsman would say the man was made
of 99% of pure stubbornness and 1% of green.

Zoro burst into Sanji’s office in the afternoon, looking frustrated and confused. He overlooked the
couch where he usually sat and went straight to sit on the desk chair Sanji reserved for the guest.

“Why can’t we marry?” Asked Marimo. Here we go again, groaned Sanji internally while keeping
the indifferent façade.

“Why do we have to marry?”

“I asked first.”

“…” The Glare.

“…” The Stare.

“Fine! We will do this for the first and last time so you can stop bothering me. We can’t simply get
married because we aren’t even there, you brute!”

Zoro’s eye widened in surprise like he didn’t expect this kind of answers which kind of confirmed
Sanji that he was 1% green and 99% a moron.

“What the fuck are you talking about, cook?”

“It was in the relationship 101 class that you skipped last semester, remember?” Sanji jested. When
Zoro looked like he was going to lunge at him, he sighed and began to explain, “Before people
decide to get married, they have to pass several stages of commitment, okay? First, you start with
dating, spending some quality of time with the other. If you like them enough, you become lovers.
If both of you really commit to the relationship, you become fiancés. After that, you can start
thinking about marriage!”

Sanji almost shouted the last part out. No one should be forced to go through this. This was like
giving a pep talk to a son which was basically the epitome of uncomfortableness. Zoro, on the
other hand, had the face of someone who had just discovered a new world and was mesmerized by
its conception. The same man who looked so disinterested with everything even when Luffy
discovered One Piece.

“What counts as dating?”

“Exercise your brain cells, Marimo. Lunch date, meaningful gifts, dinner under the candlelight.
Romantic stuff. Do I have to do the test for you?”

Marimo didn’t rise to Sanji’s goad, he was seriously considering his suggestion.

“We have lunch together all the time,” said Zoro, trying to find his way around Sanji's words. Not
a chance.

“That doesn’t count,” Sanji quickly countered, “You have to be conscious about it.”

Here, Zoro was the man whose solution to any problem was to cut it down with his swords. When
he was about to do it, he always had a certain expression. It also could mean that he couldn’t be
talked out of doing it. Zoro was having that expression right now.

Sanji was secretly sweating.

51.

Zoro had disappeared the whole evening. During the time, Sanji had been in his office, writing
letters after letters. It was way past dinner time but he was still furiously writing the last letter to
the World Economy Press, demanding them to publicly apologize him or he was going to sail to the
Grand Line and make a fucking squab pie out of their president. In his attempt to get the letters
ready to be sent tomorrow, he had forgotten to eat and had run out the last pack of cigarettes
since maybe 2 PM? He could feel his mind process things slower than usual and his eyes were
tired from staring at papers all day.

Again, Zoro, the master of inappropriate timing, burst into his office, with a tray of food picked
from the staff's buffet —and a paraffin lamp. Sanji didn't have energy left in him to make even a
clever quip about it. He barely comprehended why would he bring the lamp - had the kitchen had a
blackout?

Zoro slammed down the paraffin lamp on Sanji’s desk, along with the food tray. Sanji blinked at it,
then he caught the sight of his favourite cigarette brand placed nicely beside the plates of food. He
immediately lit it and took a deep happy smoke.

All of the exhaustion seemed to be gone as soon as he had a cig. Sanji let out a series of heart-
shaped smokes as his mood lightened. He sighed happily.

“Thank, moss. I need this,” Sanji’s level of happiness correlated with his willingness to tolerate the
moss.

Zoro shrugged but said nothing. Sanji started digging in the food, wisely deciding to ignore the
lamp on the desk. He just realized that he was starving. Zoro had patiently waited for Sanji to
peacefully finish his meal. When he lit another cigarette, Marimo bombarded him with his
question. The question that if having been asked earlier, Sanji's appetite would have gone.

“So, are we boyfriends now?”

It wasn’t the proudest moment of Sanji’s life as he choked on the smoke. The last time he did was
about fifteen years ago when he started a one man’s career of destroying his lungs.

“It has to be years!” Sanji coughed out, trying to continue smoking.

“You weren’t specific about 'the quantity of time',” Zoro said proudly. Marimo must think he was a
fucking wordsmith for finding a way to bend Sanji’s words to his own gain.

The blond chef inhaled the last smoke before putting out the cig on the nearby ashtray.

“Why are you fixated on marriage so suddenly? Did the old man brainwash you or something?”
The cook asked in his quiet, tired voice. The things that had happened within the past 24 hours had
drained him beyond imagination. He had his faith in Zoro that after learning the unpleasant truth,
the moss would give him some sense of sanity because everyone had suddenly become so
infuriating. Then Marimo appeared, just, to weird him out with his crazy proposal. Sanji never
wanted to jump off the ship to get rid of someone before. He had the thought last night. Right now,
it was fucking tempting.

He didn’t think he could keep up the façade to entertain Zoro any more. This nonsense had to stop,
or Sanji might actually kill himself.

“He played his part. But I figured the rest out, myself. I mean it. Marry me, Sanji,” Zoro said while
looking at him in the eyes. Sanji hated this. Hated to be reminded of how charismatic Zoro could
be. Just the gaze and the words spoken in his baritone voice – it was too easy to succumb to his
demands, how ridiculously unfair was that?

“Why?” He forced out the question that the man, in front of him, had been avoiding to answer.

“You cannot live without me – let me finish, Sanji,” Zoro said, knowing that Sanji would interrupt
– how could he not, look at that boisterous claim he began the confession with - but he also knew
the power he had over Sanji just by calling his name – despicable swordsman. Sanji glared at him
but otherwise still listening. “I know you can’t live without me because I know I can't. If our
feeling is mutual- then why not?" When he became the greatest swordsman, it was the end of his
life-long dream. He should have been in troubles because he had no interest in fame and the idea of
having the ease of life never entertained him. A man like him, without meaningful direction,
should have gone restless. But he didn't and neither did the cook. Sanji and he were similar in
mind, so he supposed they had unknowingly grounded each other. If they were already physically
needing the other just to live, Zoro thought maybe he could hope -- " Or am I wrong about your
feelings?"

“We aren’t talking about MY feelings,” Sanji gritted his teeth. “If living together is what you want,
we are already living together. I don’t see the reason to change our living arrangement.”

Zoro let out a frustrated growl, “You know that isn’t what – why you always make things difficult
than they should be?”

“Well, I cannot assume things, Marimo. Marriage requires lots of communication. I’m not sure you
are the man for this job.”

"..."

“The truth, Zoro. This or nothing.”

The swordsman looked almost pleading. “…You know I’m not good with words,”

“I’m listening.”

“I didn’t know there are other options for me then to be beside you,” Zoro began, a bit quieter than
he normally spoke, “When we compete with each other, I feel complete. At peace. I should have
felt restless after attaining my dream but I didn’t, because you have kept me grounded. Until
yesterday, I had been content with what we have. But not anymore. When I know that we can –
become something more –“

He struggled to find the words and Sanji waited.

“You know me, I aim for the best and you are my goal - have been for many years. I was just too
stupid to realize,” He chuckled to himself, the old man was right – he was really stupid. “If there is
a chance for us, may I --” Have you?

“You may,” Sanji whispered back. Not the most charming confession, clearly, not even romantic.
Definitely not the kind of speech Sanji had dreamed of giving or being given, but it was genuine
and it was so Zoro. So, it was enough.

Zoro never looked this hopeful before. Sanji blushed but gave him back the small smile.

“So, are you going to marry me on the anniversary date, right?”

Sanji's smile died down. They had just made the decision, so important that if it went wrong, could
totally destroy even their nakamaship. And here was the Marimo making fucking insensitive
questions. Again.

“Are you a moron!? We aren’t going to marry on that day!”

“You’ve just accepted my proposal!”

“I’ve accepted your plea to try out a relationship, not a marriage proposal!”

“Why cannot we marry on the anniversary? You are throwing a party anyway?!”

Sanji sputtered.

“The preparations of the two events undergo totally fucking different processes, you caveman! And
I’m not emotionally prepared!”

Zoro snorted, intentionally picking his ear because he knew it would annoy Sanji.

“Of course, your brain always processes things slower than mine.”

“Other people take years to get married!”

“We aren’t other people.”

“Why are you so fixated on rushing to get married?” Sanji asked, exasperated.

Zoro stared at him, “You call this rushing? I’ve been wasting time for too long. If we could wed
tomorrow, I would. I want to give my all to you and you to give your all to me. I want people to
know that we belong together now.” And hands off, he's mine, Zoro’s animal brain hissed
possessively at the imaginary suitors of past, present, and future that could be lurking in the dark,
trying to steal his cook.

Sanji blushed furiously at that blatant, unabashed confession. He tried to distract the moss from
noticing by coughing.

“Seven weeks.”

“?”

“You have seven weeks to make me say yes.”

Zoro blinked at Sanji's conditional proposition, but when his brain finished registering the
message, he smirked. Sanji returned back with his wide grin. It didn’t need speech to understand
what the other was up to. It was just the two of them getting a new challenge to compete with the
other.

“So, just to clear things up, are we boyfriends now?”

“No, still dating. You are working on getting me to agree to go out with you on the second date.”

Challenge accepted, shitty cook.

Don’t make it boring, third-rate swordsman.

52.

The next morning, more three familiar ships appeared on the horizon of All Blue. Again that the
Baratie had to welcome the unexpected associates of the head chef. This time, everyone at the
restaurant was prepared and Sanji had a sufficient rest last night which left him in a quite good
mood. He ordered a private room to be arranged, separated and furthest away from other
restaurant-goers, for the safety of all the beings on the ship. So far, everything was going good.
The guests were eating, and the moss was still lost in the dreamland.

Sometimes, Sanji did wonder, though. He wondered if the young generations, those who grew up
during the peaceful era that Luffy created, like some of his young staff or customers, would have
any idea how peculiar the situation was because it wasn't every day that you would see the three
captains of the worst generation casually walking in a restaurant and having a meal together.

Perhaps not, Sanji snorted, Zoro IS the Swordsman but some brats still think he is a fucking janitor
here. Moss dressing like a homeless doesn’t really help his case.

But these three pirate captains weren't Marimo. Trafalgar D. Law, X Drake, and Basil Hawkins.
These people weren't the kind of men to associate themselves with commoners. Also, they were
fucking different from each other which made Sanji think that he might make the risky choice by
seating them in the same room and serving them food with his best silverware...

“Head Chef, sir. The guests from the special table want to give their compliments to the chef,” the
waiting staff came to inform Sanji at kitchen station, looking slightly pale. He was young, around
17 maybe, and must feel pressured for being assigned a job to tend the three captains. He did a
decent job in upholding his professionalism, though. Some young lads here rarely got the chance to
cater for guests of this high esteem. The real deals, not the worthless rich. People who featured in
legends and tales, and whose names would go in history. The only living legend around here was
Marimo, but Zoro had been showing off his idiocy far too much to command Sanji's crew's respect
at this point.

Sanji removed his apron. “You’ve done a pretty job, don’t worry,” he gave encouraging pats on the
cheek of the young waiter before walking out to greet the guests.

The first thing Sanji did when he reached their table was to sit down on the last available chair and
light his cig. This was going to be a long conversation than a platitude of emptied courtesy he
usually got and Sanji would rather sit comfortably through it.

“Normally, people have to reserve a seat to dine in my restaurant, you realize?” He told them
casually.

“I've just arrived, you don’t have to hurry to give me the cold shoulder. You’re mean, Blackleg-
ya," Law countered easily, with his trademark teasing smirk, "Glad to know that you aren’t losing
your fire, playing house with the swordsman-ya."

“How's about you? I haven’t heard any news from you since the Great War. You look quite
domestic for an active pirate, perhaps a retirement?” Sanji quipped back. Law, actually, looked the
same, but healthier. Clearly, he wasn't the same edgy warlord who shouldered the pain on his back
alone.

“Retirement suits him well. He has been pretty occupied with his hobby.” Hawkin interrupted and
Drake snickered. Sanji's interest was piqued.

"You have my full attention."

Law glared at them.

“Oh right, Blackleg. He is very famous for his renowned career in North Blue. You might not
know, seeing you haven't visited your hometown for once over the years.”

“Drop it. Or I kill you,” Law threatened, his hand dangerously hovering over his long katana.

“No one is killing anyone in my restaurant,” Sanji quickly interrupted the quarrel, nipping it in the
bud before it could erupt into a full fight. He turned his attention to the two guests whom he hadn’t
yet decided what to feel about them appearing unannounced at his doorstep. “Sooo, why are you
two here? No offends, but I recall, we didn’t exactly have a good experience with each other last
time.”

Drake mannerly put down the beer he was drinking and said, “I’m here to congratulate you on the
marital union, Blackleg. We might haven’t been on good terms – I was so obsessed with hunting
you down back then, and you always slipped right through me when I almost got you in my grip;
you frustrated me so – but you have my respect,” he finished and resumed his drinking. How could
he keep the straight face while saying something like that was. How was Sanji supposed to reply to
that admission? Hearing someone confessed about their obsession to annihilate you – it was,
fucking uncomfortable.

“Thanks, I guess? But no, I’m not getting married. The news is fake,” Sanji forced out a strained
smile while correcting the captains about their misunderstanding.

Hawkins had a thoughtful look on him. He was now staring at Sanji like he was searching into his
soul which reminded Sanji how creepy this guy was. The Magician got his cards out before
spreading them on the table. He wasn’t going to read the cards; he just played big. Despite the
quiet personality, the man had a thing for grandeur and ostentation. Just look at how he dressed.
Showy.

“I read my cards before coming here. They told me you are getting married.” The pale man
stopped to take a sip of the wine, pausing for his revelation to sink into the others’ brains, “They
also told me my presence is required. So, I’m here to witness the wedding.”

“Your fortune-telling is superstitious and full of bullshit,” Sanji told him sincerely.

“I agree with him,” said Drake, surprisingly taking Sanji’s side. Hawkins gave Drake the stare. It
was... intense. There was the heat between the two supernovas that Sanji could practically sense it.

Oh, gasped Sanji,

These idiots haven’t got a clue!

Sanji was suddenly feeling giddy with thrill because he loved watching romantic shit and people
making a fool of themselves.

“My cards are never wrong,” Hawkins said; his voice was still void of human emotions.

“Why are you needed for Blackleg-ya’s wedding?” Law asked out of the pure curiosity.

Hawkins seemed to not expect the question “I’ve never asked them why before,” he admitted with
a frown.

“Then, ask it,” Sanji urged, starting to get curious as well.

Hawkins did some cool card shufflings before spreading them out again on the table. He picked a
few out, looked at them and went deadly quiet. The other three had been waiting expectantly for
his prediction but when he didn’t speak out, they prodded impatiently, “Well?”

Hawkins regarded them like judging their worthiness to hear his foretelling but at last, decided to
explain,

“They say that I will find my lover at the wedding."

it was brief and curt and he went back to sipping his wine like it was no big deal. The level of
calmness he had, even he had just discovered the truth of his love life (well, not the truth, it was a
fucking fortune-telling but Hawkins believed in his craft, he must be believing it, right?), made
Sanji feel a bit ashamed of himself about his panic attack in the previous days.

“The poor man; my condolences to his unfortunate soul,” Drake barked out a laugh, mockingly
giving a toast to Hawkins’s unknown future lover.

“I didn’t say he was a man. How did you know?” Hawkins asked breezily.

Drake choked on his drink.

“Ugh. Just finish your food and go back to North Blue, okay? You guys are scaring off my staff.”

“I think it’s ‘your guy’ who is scaring off your staff, Sanji-ya,” Law gave him a mischievous grin,
wide and Cheshire-cat like.

“Crap!” Cursed Sanji, his Haki finally sensing the intimating aura coming to their direction. He
looked at the time and cursed again. It was half-past one. He had been spending one hour and a
half with the North-Blue reunion, that was unexpected. But, it was kind of fun and he'd been pretty
invested in the two supernovas’ love life and no one had yet told him what Tra-guy’s hobby was
about.

Sanji let out a low growl.

“Fucking Marimo. Every damn time, when shit's just got interesting!” The cook slammed his hand
on the table in frustration, abruptly standing up and running to the main hall where the swordsman
was currently causing havoc.

53.

“I don’t want them here,” pouted Zoro after being ushered back into the kitchen by an irritated
Sanji. Actually, the right word would be dragging because Zoro didn’t cooperate at all and Sanji
almost had to carry him, like a dead weight, to the kitchen. Why did Moss love to humiliate him in
the public?

“It’s been years why are you still holding grudges against them? Law is with them; they are fine!”

That’s the problem! Screamed Zoro, in his head, in desperation.

Zoro’s feeling about the former warlord started out pretty neutral. He was quiet; he was strong. He
kept it to himself which made him the least annoying supernovas. Luffy trusted him. Their alliance
made him see the other side of the brooding man which he grew to respect. All in all, Law was
okay in Zoro’s book.

Zoro’s respect for Law ended in Wano.

Zoro’s respect for Law ended in Wano when the man started to look too eager to get his hand on
the cook in his raid-suit form. Zoro wasn’t there when Franky and Usopp planned to modify the
raid suit for the cook. He was told that Law kindly volunteered to help the cook test out his suit and
no one ever had the brain to think that it was weird. Why the fuck a surgeon was needed in a
mechanic workshop?!

Zoro was back in time to see the team emerging out from the workshop, with the cook fucking butt-
naked, having only Law’s black yukata to protect his modesty. The cook looked red like a
beetroot, threatening the other mechanics not to tell their comrades of what happened inside the
workshop. Usopp was terrified to the point that Zoro’s sword couldn’t pry his mouth open.

Law looked smug.

And just to add fuel to Zoro’s enraging flame, Kinemon, the perverted samurai was quickly by the
cook’s side, fussing over his missing clothes.

Fucking dirty-minded perverts. Zoro wished their alliance was terminated, so he could gut them.

“Look, they will be gone before you finish your lunch, you idiot. I’m sending them to the Marimo
Island by tonight,” Sanji negotiated while giving Zoro plate of his favourite rice balls to pacify
him. Zoro glowered at the peace offering like an ungrateful brat he was.

“You aren’t sending them to my island.”

“It isn’t your island, technically.”

“It has my name on it," grumbled Zoro.

“Since when did your name become Marimo,” Sanji teased. Zoro, the child, handled the harmless
joke like one, by refusing to eat.

“Okay, okay. My bad. Just eat, ‘kay?”

“….”

"Look, you aren't exactly in the position to be demanding. You trashed my dining hall!" Sanji
wanted and had the right to be mad but Zoro was seriously upset for no reason about the North-
blue captains being here and it confused him to the point that he forgot to be mad. Also, a petulant
moss was kind of adorable in his own way, making him want to go easy on him. Just once.

“If you are being a good boy, I'll give you more of your favourites?" Sanji bribed.

"I want breadsticks."

"Anything else?" Well, that was easy to make. He was bracing himself for the requests like a
collection of his brandy so something. Moss was being humble today.

“And a date," finished Zoro with a voice that left no room for negotiation.

Sanji realized he'd been played.

“Fine! Just eat your food!”

 54.

"Room!" Law used his power to open the portal and collect the small Den Den Mushi he had
hidden in the kitchen before the couple realized the kitchen was bugged.

“Blackleg sounds like a husband with wife-y energy,” Hawkins commented after eavesdropping on
the cook and the swordsman's talk.

“I think they are already married," Drake gave out his opinion.

“My cards disagree; they aren’t married yet.”

“Your cards are shit.”

“I will end your pathetic life.”

“You can try.”

“If you excuse me, I’m going back to my ship, having more important things to do than watching a
pig fight. See ya.”

“Oh, when will the new Stealth-black cartoon is coming out, Law-sensei?” Hawkins attacked.

“It’s called a graphic novel!” Law yelled, offended.

“Your take on Stealth Black as the anti-hero is daring. I like the transformation scene but your
writing is a bit lazy. Give him a strong contender, like a big fearsome dinosaur,” criticized Drake,
giving the opinion when it wasn't wanted.

“I will fucking kill you bastards here, and Blackleg-ya will be never the wiser!”

Chapter End Notes

I hope everyone enjoys this chapter. below I'm going to be fangirling about the recent
manga chapter (944). Spoilers for those who haven't read it yet.

Oh, dear. Have you seen Zoro?! He was so charismatic! This's so going down in
Zoro's best moments as the Strawhat's first mate. His charisma and leadership shined
brightly in this chapter and it was so awesome. The way he just told his crew what to
do --Franky to take care of the goons; Sanji to take care of the kid - and they did! I
screamed that they followed his order; it was the coolest moment. And I squealed that
Sanji came back to his side just to yell at him because he was being dumb for going
after Orochi. If there's going to be one who can talk to Zoro when he was so mad, so
serious, it'd be Sanji. Thus, I declare, Sanji is a wifu-husband of Roronoa Zoro.
 Chapter 6
Chapter Notes

Hi everyone, thank you for your support and lovely comments. I read all of them and
am truly grateful.
This was supposed to be a final chapter but it kinda escalated. Again. I tried to fit
everything in but it would be too crammed. Please bear with me a little longer. I
promise I'll finish it!

See the end of the chapter for more notes

55.

What did dating the cook feel like?

Need you ask? Frustration, of course.

56.

Zoro had done everything to the best of his ability, indulging every whimsical demand of the cook
to the point he seriously worried that soon he would vomit rose petals while shitting the rest of the
goddamn flower out of his ass.

In other words, romance never ever was Zoro's strong suit but he'd endured its trial like a real man.

Or a true idiot.

Sigh.

Let's have a quick recap of what he had done in these four tiring weeks.

Lunch date? Checked. Gift-giving? Nailed it.

The latter was easy. In fact, it was the easiest thing to do in his opinion; Zoro always preferred a
'less-talk-more-action' kind of a task. The instruction was simple: get a gift, give it to the cook,
done. Even a child could do it.

Nothing could go wrong with a fish. It was edible, a perfect and useful gift for a sea cook. For 14
days, Zoro had given fishes to the cook and the cook never once said a word that he was displeased
with what Zoro got him. Those who were not satisfied, however, was the cook's crewmates as they
kept giving him a disappointing look every time he entered the kitchen in the morning to drop off
his gift. Wasn't dating supposed to be an affair between two people? He felt like he was dealing not
only with his date's feelings but his date's extended family's expectation or something like that.
Nosy people should mind their own business.

The Baratie's staff begged to differ: this was their very business.

Despite the relief from hearing that the couple finally acknowledged their pent-up sexual tension
for each other, the crew still thought they were so full of shit. They had been forced (as in, unable
to leave the cooking stations,) to witness the resident swordsman coming to the kitchen every day
to drop his gift to their owner-chef – like some kind of a stray cat who brought its kills to his
master. Surely, they shouldn't stick their noses into their boss’s affair but this fucking weird
courting dance had been going since forever. Like, what the hell - they thought they were still
dating? It was like the same episode from a very old soap opera that was rerun again and again, to
milk money from old maids but the program never fucking showed the whole series and its ending,
simply unbearable. God knows how long would it take for them to stop playing a pair of blushing
teenagers and fucking kiss.

Not to mention that the swordsman’s tactless and poor choice in gifts bothered them greatly. Fish.
Every. Single. Day.

Could this man think of something different to give to Boss that wasn’t bleeding?

They were vulgar and crude sailors but even they knew a thing or two about romance. Let them tell
you, a bloody carcass of a dead sea king was not romantic.

“When will Curly come back to the kitchen?” Zoro asked when he didn't see the cook, oblivious to
the judgmental glare as he dropped a cow-size chuck of a seaking’s meat on the kitchen because
the largest fridge still wasn’t large enough to fit in the meat. The raw and heavy meat hit the floor
with a loud splashy thud, blood spilling everywhere, all over the floor, the cooking stations, and the
cooking staff’s faces.

The only senior chef on morning duty, Patty wiped the blood that was dripping on his face with a
nearby rug before taking off his apron, making up his mind to lend a helping hand to the
swordsman so this courting charade could pick up speed.

“This is going to take a while,” he said to his sous chefs who saluted him for making a personal
sacrifice for the team.

Zoro was planning to stay in the kitchen until the cook came back from the office to recognize
today's gift but the baldhead chef tapped his shoulder, motioning Zoro to follow him outside
instead. Even he was a bit confused, Zoro complied. Patty was a chef and the Baratie's main
bouncer. It was his secondary job that they had some interactions with each other as Zoro
helped him boot some customers out of the dinning premise from time to time. But they weren't
exactly close. Zoro had no idea what the man wanted from him. He guessed he'd just wait and see;
he still had time to kill before going back to the kitchen and demanding food from the cook.

Patty took him to just outside of the kitchen's backdoor where the restaurant put out the rubbish.
Around this area where the garbage bins were placed was dubbed unofficially as the smoking area
where the chefs came for a quick smoke before hurrying back to their stations.

Like all cooks of the sea, Patty didn't waste his time on courtesy, especially when it brought
no money, getting to the point as soon as they stopped walking.
“Look, have you not given him the same gift for 5 years?”

“No. I started like two weeks ago,” Zoro responded in kind.

Patty’s eyes twitched. As much as he wanted to knock some sense into this man, he strategically
dropped the topic. There was a more important matter that he needed to talk about. May gods give
him strength.

“Getting fishes for two whole weeks is too much for anyone. Just get him something else for a
change, 'kay?” He told the swordsman frankly. He had seen Zoro long enough to know that if you
wanted something from him, telling him straightforwardly would get you that thing faster than
implying for him to figure out because he could not.

“Like what?”

“Pretty things,” Patty suggested offhandedly. “For a start, flowers.”

“Flowers?” Repeated Zoro, looking genuinely quizzical. “How a flower could be of any use to the
cook? It’s just a plant, plucked out, waiting to wither away.”

Patty blinked.

He blinked again and thought the swordsman should be grateful that Gods gave him his looks. If
he had to rely on his non-existing flirting skill alone, no one would fucking go to his bed.

“Look, that brat likes flowers, okay? Just get him one.” The man with Popeye’s arms patted the
swordsman’s shoulder, signalling the end of the conversation before shooing Zoro away so he
could smoke in peace.

Zoro found himself putting his hand on the ship balcony, staring into the sea and processing the
piece of information he'd been given. He thought of the baldhead man's advice and his own
opinion on plant life. He remembered the witch’s tangerine trees on their boats which provided
shades for him to sleep, and citrus fruits to keep scurvy away. Trees were useful, he supposed. The
less useful one, on the other hand, was the little flower patch that belonged to Robin but Zoro
wasn’t dumb to say that to their archaeologist’s face (Franky did and everyone on board were still
traumatized by what happened to him.) Obviously, no one was thrilled about the gardening duty; it
was a kind of jobs that the male crewmates tried their best to avoid because plants are boring (in
Luffy’s voice - but to be fair to plants, the only kind of plants that could interest their captain
would have to be a carnivorous one - the more feral, the more he liked it).

But yeah, there was this one man on the ship who was willing to water both the witch’s citrus trees
and Robin’s flowers, the same one who loved shopping and bathed as often as the two women.
Perhaps, his and the women's brains were on the same wavelength or something.

Anyway, he concluded, it’d not hurt to try it out. The problem was they were in the middle of the
sea where flowers were - rare, except the pot plants decorating the dining hall but it wasn't like he
could go and pluck out its flowers - that would be stupid and suicidal.

Of course, he could go to his island to get the flowers but it was now full of people he disliked and
Zoro wanted those fragile useless things to stay fresh enough to present to the cook.

So…
The swordsman stared into the sea, searching for the solution. He let his mind get in a semi-
meditative state while listening to the rhythmical sounds of the ocean's waves crashing over the
side of the ship, waiting for any good idea to pop up into his head. And it did.

There must be plenty of flowers down the sea below, right?

Taking out of the coat and boots, the swordsman wasted no time to take a few steps back before
diving into the sea. The water in the morning was always colder as the sun had not yet warmed it
up but it wasn't much of a little inconvenience to a man with a strong will, and a desire to impress
his date.

It didn't take long for Zoro to get sea flowers he wanted and got back to the ship. There were too
many on the coral reefs, painting the deepwater world with its vibrant colours. He looked at the
ones he just plucked out from a rock, colourful and still moving which in Zoro’s book made them
more interesting than their terrestrial counterparts.

The swordsman shook the water off his body as graceful as a wet dog, picking his boots and coat
before going back to the kitchen to find the cook, all the while batting the flowers' slick tentacles
away as they tried to cut off the blood circulation to his left hand.

You could guess the outcome of his attempt by now and you'd probably be right.

This story ended with the swordsman diving back in the sea to return the anemones (“yes, they are
aquatic animals!!”) to their habitation, with a bump on his head acting as a reminder of the moral
lesson he'd learned today - that "never under any circumstance are anemones interchangeable with
flowers!"

After watching in horror as the swordsman thrust the moving creatures into Sanji's hands - poor
Sanji whose face got latched on by tentacles of the gift abruptly placed on his hands - Patty wisely
decided to wash his hands of these fools’ affair, joining Zeff and other senior chefs in the ringside.

People's stupidity was like flu, you had to let it run its course.

57.

Since the sea-flower incident, Zoro had become cautious when people tried to give him their
pieces of advice which strangely happened a lot. He felt like his affair with the cook became a
multi-party business. He had absolutely no idea what could they possibly gain from investing their
time in his private life. This time, it was the junior cooks who for a mysterious reason liked
hanging out with Zoro.

They used to fear him, some of them once told Zoro. It was understandable. After all, they were
different in almost every way. Zoro could be at least a decade older than all of them; had a
formidable reputation and an intimidating look; was a living legend. But as soon as the young
cooks discovered that this swordsman was actually a chilling dude and the only person on board
who didn’t yell at them, they flocked around Zoro like the lost little ducklings. Zoro thought the
apprentices were alright, less annoying than their asshole senior chefs. They treated him with some
respect. Even he didn't care much about seniority, it was a breath of fresh air once in a while when
he wasn't shouted at or ushered out of the kitchen by the head chef, or his father or his father’s
henchmen.

Basically, these useless children bonded over the resentment of being scolded by the adults.

Knowing that they wouldn’t get sliced into strips just by talking or joking with the greenhead
swordsman, the young cooks felt emboldened to give their older mate some ideas to woo their
head-chef. Like this time during the lunch break as they had assembled behind a stack of flour
sacks in the kitchen's storage room while Zoro taking an afternoon nap.

“You should try singing, Roronoa-san.”

“I don’t sing," yawned Zoro which earned him a stare from the perplexed cooks because the
swordsman had just admitted to never sing.

"Come on, Roronoa-san! When you look at Head Chef, don't you ever feel like singing to him?"

Zoro frowned, slightly confused by the nature of the question. "When I see the cook's stupid face,
all I want to do is cut him," he said carefully.

Is this man for real?

If he was the same age as them and did not have a terrifyingly long list of kill counts, the young
cooks would call him out for his bullshit. But because he was the infamous Roronoa Zoro, they
believed that this guy was that kind of man who meant what he'd just said. Besides the
explicit preference for violence against their boss which they rather not commented, it was still
weird he dismissed singing easily. Singing was an inseparable part of life at the sea for all pirates
and sailors! I mean, what was a life worth living without a song on your lips?

Not giving up, one by one, they tried to save the swordsman's soul by telling him stories of how
love could be won by the power of music. Zoro had listened patiently, zoning out most of the time
but still noticing that each story sappier than the last. The brats had the audacity to claim all the
tales were true when they were clearly made-up; the proof of their naivety. The swordsman gave a
noncommittal grunt, suppressing the urge to shake his head at them. Their liking for sappy and
exaggerating shit uncannily resembled of their boss's, so Zoro suspected much the cook' shit tastes
had rubbed off on them.

Luckily, he didn't have to tell them to shut up as one of the senior cooks showed up with the perfect
timing, causing the youngsters to scatter in all directions like sewer rats being found by a cat, all
scrambling back to their stations.

Zoro moved up to the quiet crow nest to take a nap. He had not been interrupted for the whole
afternoon, getting his needed rest and totally forgetting the kids' suggestion.

It was a week later when he remembered the young chefs' advice again. Tonight would be their
third week of dating. Zoro didn't plan to do anything special about it, neither was the cook who
was always busy. It had been an uneventful week so far. He was going to call it a night when Sanji
burst into his room with a big frown on his face and a complaint on his lips.

"What?"
A brief glance at his face, Zoro knew what it was. The cook apparently had a bad day and needed
an ear to listen to his whining.

This was nothing new between them actually.

The cook always came unannounced like this, sprawling on Zoro's mattress and telling him what
was wrong with the world today. His favourite subjects were usually his old man, his staff's
incompetence, and recently the ceremony preparation. When he finished all of the lists, he'd fall
asleep on Zoro’s bed while leaving its owner to figure out where he was supposed to sleep tonight.

Like what was happening right now.

The swordman glared at the sleeping man who had taken over his bed. A selfless man would let
the tired cook sleeping on the bed while he took a couch. Zoro was never a selfless man. He
sacrificed his bed for no one.

Zoro not-so-gently shoved the cook with his foot to the one side of the mattress until he’d
reclaimed his sleeping spot on the bed. He was about to turn off the light when the earlier
conversation he had with younger cooks flashed into his mind. He looked at the man snoring
lightly with one side of his face on the pillow and heard a voice, a disembodied whispering in his
ear - that he might not come across the perfect moment like this again soon. It was very persuasive,
making him pause and think.

He'd never ever sing in the public for anyone, knowing he would die a horrible death from the
humiliation alone, but this- they were alone.

The swordsman waved his hand in front of the cook’s closed eyes to make sure he was still off to
the dreamland. Well, he'd got the cook but he was unconscious for whatever song Zoro was going
to sing for him.

Good.

The cook wasn’t necessarily needed to be consciously present because Zoro just wanted to test the
idea. Those brats were so adamant that it was such a great experience singing to the loved ones. He
wanted to see if their claim was real and whether he could pull singing off with his rusty vocal
cords that had not been in practice for years.

Zoro wasn’t shy.

Anyway, he went through his memory of songs that Brook used to perform for the crew, searching
for the simplest one that he could cover. Their skeleton musician had songs for every occasion,
even for taking a dump, but Brook was a professional musician which meant his songs could be
quite... complicated for someone below a beginner level like Zoro. Banging a mug and clapping
hands he could do but not singing along, unless he wanted to join the off-key trio of Usopp,
Franky, and Luffy, Brook’s unhelpful chorus.

Zoro felt like giving up the idea when his mind finally stumbled on a piece of a song that might
work. Surprisingly, it wasn’t in Brook’s collection. It was Sanji's song, one that he loved to hum
whenever he was alone in the galley. Zoro had coincidentally eavesdropped once or twice because
he happened to be looting the kitchen for booze at the same time.

Nevertheless, it could work.

The swordsman glanced back at the sleeping man again, starting to feel nervous as he had realized
that he had lower than zero confidence in what he was about to do.
Taking a deep breath, Zoro cleared his throat… as quiet as he could and started humming the tune.

The cook’s breathing pattern changed almost instantly.

The transition was almost seamless, too small to notice and too easy to miss, but even with his eye
closed, Zoro always knew Sanji’s respiratory rate during his slumber – he took fewer breaths than
he normally did which meant only one thing: he was already awakened and shamelessly faking
sleep.

“I thought you were asleep?” asked Zoro flusteredly, feeling very conscious even he hadn’t started
singing yet.

“Was.”

“Go back to sleep in your room then.”

Sanji ruffled his head on the pillow, refusing to move. His eyes were still closed.

“Sing.”

“No.”

“You’re supposed to be nice to your date,” the cook pulled out the trump card.

“Tsk,” Zoro put on a mask of exasperation even he wanted to bail out so badly. Singing when the
cook was awake could be nothing short of embarrassment but the cook would tease him to death if
he refused anyway. This was like jumping out of a frying pan into the fire; either way, he was
screwed.

In the end, Zoro told himself to stop being a coward and just do it. The cook and he had seen each
other in their most humiliating forms before. This was going to be embarrassing surely but it could
never rank at the top list of Zoro’s shittiest moments. This somehow helped him accept his
inevitable fate.

Hesitantly, Zoro sang,

“…I hear… a dream all day

A dream that calls to me

Come home again you sailor man, sailor man.

Home again to the sea.”

He was really bad at it. He knew it, that he would stutter. Zoro tried not to cringe as he listened
to himself clumsily stumbling on the notes, gracelessly dragging on a certain part as he’d forgotten
the rest of the lyrics. When he finished, he was prepared for a tease or whatever verbal arsenals the
cook was planning to shoot at him.

The corners of the cook's mouth turned up in a mirthful yet gentle smile.

When he opened his mouth, Zoro still expected a mockery but it wasn't what came out.

“Where my goal is who can tell

Fare thee well my darling, adieu

While my soul is on the blue

My heart's with you.”

He sang back.

"I'm rusty. I've not practised for age," the cook admitted shyly.

I didn't notice. You did great.

Zoro was speechless, awestruck by how beautiful the song was when it was sung by Sanji. The
cook really had a natural voice for singing: clear, soft and melodic. Sanji, effortlessly, was a better
singer than Zoro but he couldn’t find himself to be petty or bitter that he lost in this arena. Sanji
didn’t sing back as a bluff. He was simply sharing the song with Zoro and the swordsman felt so
privileged, to be able to be with the cook, having his voice exclusively for himself.

“Zeff likes this song,” the blonde man smiled fondly at the memory of the time long past -of a man
with a cigar between his lips, singing the old sailor’s romance to his little boy. From the weird
angle where his head was laying on the pillow, Zoro could see both of Sanji's eyes as he no longer
pretended to be sleepy. The pair of blue orbs stared at him, bright and clear; the iris darkened, a
deep navy blue like the sea itself.

"I like it too," said Zoro, realization dawning on him, what he really had missed out all along.

He felt overwhelmed, engulfed in the unexplainable source of warmth inside his chest. It told him -
no, sang to him,

Come home again you sailor man, sailor man

Home again where you should be.

It urged him... to ask the cook to be his lover. He knew if he did, he would agree. His eyes were
telling much but both of them couldn't find in their voices to break the silence. This gentle glow of
happiness around them was too precious to break right now.

He would ask Sanji tomorrow.

It would be alright; they were at home.

58.

Zoro asked Sanji the next day.

He had planned to wake up before the cook and asked but it seemed he woke up late again. When
he was awakened, the cook was already gone, probably at his office right now. Zoro got dressed
unhurriedly. The last night was still fresh in his mind; he was in a good mood, optimistic and
hopeful. He was surprised that the sky was still dark when he opened the curtain and window to
get some fresh air.

Zoro didn't oversleep; the cook just got up earlier than usual.

Perhaps he was nervous like me. Thought Zoro.

Sanji was but not in the kind of way Zoro was feeling. Seeing the cook being jumpy and his face
turning paper-white when he saw Zoro made his heart falter, not in that kind of way he wished it
to.

59.

“I’m not ready. Give me time to think, idiot!” Said the cook, giving Zoro no time to respond as
he fleed the room.

60.

A week had passed.

Their relationship had progressed not in the way the resident swordsman wished. In fact, he
believed it had stalled at this point.

What did I do wrong?

No, what's wrong with HIM?

Needless to say, he gave the cook what he wanted. Space. Time. Whatever the shitty bastard
needed, screw him.

He needed them himself too in order to recover from the shock of the unexpected rejection. Time
did help a lot. Zoro found the confusion had steadily dissipated, morphing into infuriation.
However he looked at it, it was still an ass move - what the cook pulled on him.

He had all but played by the rules that the bastard himself set and this was what he got?

"This is unfair," grumbled Zoro to no one particular as he was brooding alone in his crow nest. He
had refused to have lunch with the cook for seven days straight. Zoro didn't think he was mad at
the cook - that would be immature. He didn't start it; it was the cook who started avoiding him first
and two could play at that game. There was the awkward air between them, around them and in
their lungs which unlike the warm feeling he felt earlier, this one was suffocating, trying to drown
him. They still spoke to each other but it was quick and dull and he doubted that even sparring,
which always worked for them, could clear this stench of discomfort that had been filling in the
room. They were drifting apart and he had no fucking idea why.

The ship had been quiet without their bickering and everyone had been on edge but Zoro didn't
know how to stop it when the cook wasn't cooperating even it was his fault.

This was why he hated romantic stuff.

Why was romance such a big deal when it so lacked structures and reliable principles?

In swordsmanship, he always knew which tiers of performance he belonged; which was the way to
pursue to get stronger. In romance, he had absolutely no idea if he was on the right track. It was
like a childish game in which players were to deliberately be as dishonest as possible about their
feelings and did their best to drive the other mad with their indirect signals.

This was why he picked a fight with this snobby pretentious gentleman that Luffy recruited as soon
as he stepped his foot on Going Merry. Zoro believed that a person who believed in something so
outdated as chivalry and romance could be nothing but a clown, and he was partly right. It turned
out he was a good fighter. The cook would be passable as a decent human being if he could not
spew out verbal diarrhoea about love and worship the ground the witch and Robin walking on
every three minutes. Sadly, it wasn’t the case; the man was willing to play a fool.

You should have fucking asked him that night, stupid.

The part of Zoro's mind still wanted to beat himself. It started to make him wonder too - what did
exactly happen in those several hours that changed the cook's heart so drastically?

He wasn't blinded. He saw his eyes. They were singing the same song that night. He could never
misread it.

Zoro furrowed his brows when he tried to remember the morning after that - the way Sanji was
cast down by something. He looked frightened as if he was afraid Zoro'd find out something, so he
ran. At that time, Zoro was too shocked to notice how off his behaviour was, and after that too mad
to care. Seven days later as Zoro had finally suppressed the urge to punch him whenever he saw his
stupid face in his mind, now he could see that perhaps time was a red herring and not what they
both needed. This was a matter of honesty.

They had competed with each other in everything. Named it and it would already be there,
somewhere in the long endless list of their contests of performance. Despite the shit talks, they
were always honest with each other when needed, even without words being said between them.

A relationship was about communication, right? He'd give the cook his own medicine.

61.

BlackLeg Sanji was having a problem.

No, BlackLeg Sanji was having problems.

First, the weddi— the ceremony was looming, the reaper with a scythe ready to behead the
unfortunate souls who had been working day and night yet the hope of finishing the preparation
before the deadline was still none. The new oven was broken. That second-rate piece of trash made
him miss Franky desperately. They overbaked, surely, but he did give clear instructions to the oven
maker to make it handle the ginormous size of Luffy’s cake. They were lucky that that junk could
be patched up and finished its last job before crumbling down to pieces. Sanji still needed a refund
and a break. This fucking job was eating his lifespan. He was so certain when it was over, he
would probably be dead.

Not to say he still had a restaurant to run and picky customers to please. As the ceremony was
approaching, more and more pirate ships had randomly shown, adding more unnecessary work on
his hands. He didn’t even have time to spare correcting them about the newspaper’s lies, sending
them to Marimo Island just to quickly get rid of them. The island had become a pirate dumpster at
this point, with the port packed with pirate vessels and the town's streets crowded with s-class
criminals. Several fights had been reported back to Sanji, one of them being a brawl between the
Vinsmokes and the pirates from North Blue. Sanji hoped they fought to the death, literally.

Zoro wasn't happy about his way of dealing with the pirates. In fact, marimo wasn't happy with
about pretty much everything, especially now when he looked like he badly wanted to murder
Sanji on sight...which in all fairness, Sanji deserved.
The head chef sighed to himself while walking back to his room, exhausted and alone.

How could he explain this to him in a way that Zoro wouldn't see him a complete jerk? Well, he
was kinda a jerk now but.

Who could have thought that Zoro, the Roronoa Zoro, would sing to him? Zoro was a determined
man who took everything seriously like a mission but he often did things his own way, like
thinking an anemone was an okay gift because it looked enough like a flower. But this time. This
time, he really went out of his comfort zone for Sanji and he was really, really sweet. The
happiness he felt when he heard his favourite song being sung by Zoro was simply indescribable.
On top of the world, over the moon, he felt all sorts of those feelings and more.

Sanji felt so special; he could have kissed him. He wanted to return his feelings to Zoro.

He would have done that had he not have that damn nightmare.

There was this part of Sanji's brain that was self-preservative. It had kept him alive but it was also
paranoid as fuck, seeing the burst of joy a threat to Sanji's life and deciding to give him an antidote
to fight against happiness. As soon as his head hit the pillow again, foolishly thinking he was going
to have a sweet dream, he got a nightmare. Well, not exactly a nightmare, more like revisiting an
old memory.

He was again in the room watching a sick woman slowly dying in her bed, alone. She had been
living here for a long time. The proof was all over the wall when the nurses, feeling pity for the
woman, allowed her to decorate the room with framed pictures of her family - to make her feel at
home. She kept her favourite frame close to her bed, the picture of her children. But there were
more photos on the wall. He could have a glimpse into her life through these pictures. One of them
was her in her bridal dress. A newlywed with a dreamy expression and a big smile. It hurt him. It
hurt him so much to see her when she was young, innocent and lively. Because he knew about the
future that the young wife in the picture would never know. This marriage would kill you.

Sanji woke up with a feeling, completely different than the one he felt before going to bed.

It was the worst wake-up call ever.

He had avoided Zoro like a coward because he didn't know how to start explaining this to Zoro.

How could he make Zoro see this tangled mess that was their relationship right now?

It was like a ball of yarn.

You remembered putting it in a locker, neatly rolled, but when you searched for it again, that yarn
somehow got tangled by itself.

His and Zoro’s relationship was like that.

Years of living and fighting together made what at the beginning was just a pair of threads become
some sort of Gordian knot, strong and inseparable. If there was anything in his life that Sanji was
truly confident about, it was his unbreakable friendship with his nakamas, with Zoro - that
whatever happened to them, they would still be friends. But he didn't want to risk it. After all, even
the most unsolvable knot in history could be unravelled, laughably easy so, by a simple callous
swing of the king’s sword. The bond was gone, unrecoverable, forever. Suddenly, the prospect of
getting married did not just make him wary in a kind of curious hopeful way anymore, it frightened
him.

Sanji knew what his mind had been doing. He was being unrealistically pessimistic but he
couldn't make it stop. If he could crack his skull open and remove it from the brain, he would.
They were too noisy.

What if the nightmare was the last desperate warning? Was Sanji a one step closer to get his bond
with Zoro sliced in half?

Are you going to be good enough for him?

62.

The moment he heard a click of his doorknob at night, Sanji knew the time had come. Resigning to
fate, the cook placed a bookmark between pages of an old journal on pastry he was reading,
choosing to remain by his working desk with his reading glasses on and hoping that he’d appear
occupied and not a nervous mess who dreaded of a conversation.

He heard the sounds of Zoro's boots and straightened his back on the chair, purposefully writing
something on a blank page of a notebook so he didn’t have to turn his head to look at the
swordsman whose eye undoubtedly was staring intensely at the back of his head.

“What do you want?”

“A talk.”

Sanji's tired brain was working too hard to decipher that simple response. This was a
disadvantage of not seeing Zoro's face or his body language. He wasn't an expressive man; it was
harder to gauge his reaction by words alone.

“Do we have to?” asked Sanji, acting unperturbed and conversational by trying to organize his
desk. “I’ve been working all day and am quite tired. I think I’m going to hit the bed.”

“Fine by me.”

The casualness in Zoro’s voice made the gears in his brain turning crazily. They hadn’t really
talked to each other for almost a week so he expected distant coldness but there was none. Marimo
sounded chilling. They never followed the other’s request without a protest. If Zoro behaved
uncharacteristically biddable, it meant he had a plan that Sanji knew he wouldn't like.

When the cook finally looked up, it was already too late. Zoro was already on his bed, claiming the
right side of the mattress. He was laying on top of the blanket, still wearing his boots, the dirty
boots that were on Sanji’s clean white linen.

“What do you think you are doing?! Get out of my room!”

“Why? I'm just getting comfortable.”

“It is my room.”

Zoro put his hands behind his head, staring at Sanji challengingly.
“This's my room,” repeated Sanji again despite both knowing he was playing a losing game. The
fact that they had been to the other’s room and in the other’s personal space quite a lot in the
past did little to support Sanji’s sudden demand for privacy. Zoro had a smug look on his face
because he knew it too that he'd won the first round.

Sanji wanted to argue badly. That he did own this place. As its owner, he had the right to access his
property. And, all he did to marimo’s room was beneficial to him. He changed the bedding so those
disgusting molds, the long lost relatives of the mosshead, wouldn’t grow on them. Zoro, on the
other hand, burst into Sanji’s room to borrow things and use his bathroom.

“Fine! Stay at your damn side,” grumbled Sanji, kicking marimo’s legs away from the middle of
the bed. He glared at several dirty stains on his side where Zoro previously put his boots on. His
hands were itching to peel off the sheet and start a midnight laundry. Sanji pinched his nose in
annoyance. If they could have a quick talk, he might still have time to do laundry - he reassured
himself.

“Just make it quick.”

“Why aren’t we boyfriends yet?”

Too quick!

Zoro watched in satisfaction as the cook overheated himself, desperately trying to hide his lobster-
red face behind the golden bang. Such a disadvantage of being pale. Payback time, asshole.

The cook reached out for his dresser, rummaging for his pack of cigarettes and a spare lighter.
Zoro waited and watched, letting Sanji quietly compose himself. It was always a good sign when
the cook smoked; it meant he was going to be serious. A serious talk was what Zoro needed right
now.

The cook lighted a cigarette and took his needed nicotine, exhaling the smoke before mumbling,
“all trains have final destinations. Marriage is the last stop of all lovers," a pause as he took another
drag, "what would become of two people after they get married, Marimo?”

“How the hell do I know? I never got married before.”

“True. I almost had a wedding though -” said Sanji with a self-deprecating smile, taking another
smoke and totally unaware of Zoro’s scowl at the mention of the crashed wedding. The cook
seemed struggling to search for words to say before stopping entirely, lost in his thought as he
relived the bittersweet memory of his short visit to the Whole Cake Island. When nothing had yet
come out of his mouth but a long trail of smoke, Zoro decided to point out the elephant in the room
that he could no longer wait for Sanji to address by himself.

“Are you not ready for marriage in general or marriage with me?”

Perceptive and sharp but also unyielding and blunt. Zoro always asked the right questions and said
what it needed to be said, sparing no one his mercy.

Sanji winced. It was an unpleasant taste, being forced to confront the truth. It tasted like smoke
because he almost choked on it. He closed his eyes, feeling tired but knowing there was no way out
for this. It had to be done. “I don’t know,” whispered the cook, genuinely lost. “I just – if we hop
on this train, it would be unstoppable and I don’t know if it’d -" make me lose you.
“- I fantasize getting married quite often, Marimo.” Sanji decided to take a quick turn the last
minute to change the course of the sentence, hoping he could make it easier for both of them, “and
if I do say myself, I’m a man with vividly graphic imagination but this domestic-bliss fantasy of
mine... seems to be the only one that is always blurry. In my dream, I was in love with my lover –
or I think I was but there was nothing special in the way I adored her. I simply played the role of a
chivalrous knight I’ve played million times before. The wife had no face and the kids had no
names. Whenever they came closer I could touch or see their face, I always woke up – and I felt
relieved.” He clenched his jaw, trying to get the final part out of his chest. “Zoro, I wonder if I
can really picture myself as someone’s husband.”

The cigarette had burnt out while he was speaking. He finally confessed. He threw the butt away,
feeling tired and ashamed. He had perhaps known about his true self all along but was in denial to
accept that he might not be created for a relationship that lasted.

In his whole life, Sanji had believed in the ordeal of love. Life perished but love always prevailed.

Was not love at its utmost beauty when it was unrequited? Wasn’t it powerful as it forced a man to
suffer in its name, for the love that was never his to possess?

Perhaps, the reason why he had been attracted to the idea so much was that it was easy this way.
This way he could give away love as much as he wanted, being a part of romantic stories and
fairytales without having to bother his head over the impossible – like if someone could love him
back. He was alright without getting any - he honestly believed that. Life was easy for him this
way; he hurt no one and was hurt no more. But there were always these kind people, like Pudding-
chan, who even his overt perversion couldn't keep her away from getting close to the like of him.
He underestimated her kindness. When he noticed she looked like to return his feelings, Sanji
knew he had to stop fooling around to protect her heart. Still, he thought he did hurt her back then.
It was for her own good... She was a beautiful, passionate and strong lady; she needed no man or if
she wanted one, it should be someone better than him.

Someone was offering his love to Sanji again.

This time, he was not just somebody that Sanji could turn down the offer with a small price to pay.
This man was Roronoa Zoro, his crewmate and his friend, one of the few people in the world
whom Sanji rather died than hurt them with his hands. It was only fair that Zoro knew this flaw of
Sanji - that he was broken. So, he got everything he needed to decide- what he wanted to do, or no
longer wanted to do with their relationship or with Sanji, and he'd respect Zoro's decision.

“That’s it?”

That was the first thing that came out of marimo's damn mouth.

63.

For the first time in many years, Sanji wanted to punch someone. He had just poured his heart out
for Zoro's ass sake. It was fucking painful for him and definitely not just that’s it. If this wasn't
enough - if Zoro wanted more elaboration, he’d fucking get it.

He quickly lit himself a second cigarette, taking a long frustrating drag before crushing it on the
dresser. He knew he would never finish it when he started to talk.

“Zoro, I believe at some point, Judge married my mother because he loved her. At the beginning of
everything, his attempt to unite the country was probably for her, but along the way, he fell out of
love. And when someone falls out of love, they don’t return back to the surface before they fall in
love. They just keep falling down into that hole... until they see nothing but the pitch of darkness.
What if marriage commands us to change? What if we comply and what if we deny? Would not
that destroy everything we’ve come to treasure?”

Sanji finished, panting and trying desperately to blink away angry tears. He knew his eyes were red
but like hell, he would avoid Zoro's eye. No, Sanji stubbornly levelled his glare on Zoro who had
watched Sanji crumbling down before his eye with the face that annoyingly still remained
collected.

“You are thinking too much into things that haven’t happened yet," pointed out marimo,
unaffected by Sanji’s agitation.

“And you are thinking too less into everything!” snapped Sanji, grabbing Zoro by the collar of his
shirt and raising his fist, ready to deliver a blow.

Not knowing he was an inch away from being strangled, Zoro grinned.

“So, we are perfectly matched,” concluded marimo victoriously, out of the blue. “You tell me what
I need to know and I tell you when to stop freaking out.”

Sanji was lost for words. There were so many things wrong in that sentence.

“I have a valid reason to ‘freak out’," Sanji reluctantly released his hold on the man's collar and
unclench his fist. The now free hand went to search for his pack of cigarettes that he had let
go while trying to choke marimo and almost punch him.

“You always find the reason to,” Zoro nodded his head, still looking chilled. “You like to figure
everything out three steps ahead, always trying to minimize risks and keeping everyone safe from
unnecessary confrontations. It was Luffy and me who always charged headfirst into battle because
we wanted to test our strength against the enemy’s.”

“I fought too, idiot," Sanji said irritably, itching for a smoke.

“Because you got jealous of my bounty.”

“I got a higher bounty than you,” the cook quickly reminded him, voice raising to Zoro’s provoke.

“One time. After that, my bounty has always been higher until today.”

“The marines are a group of idiots who leaves their fucking eyes at home. Thinking about those
incompetent fools makes me mad. Why did you bring this issue up for- you wanna fight?” huffed
Sanji, finding the lighter and the cigarette pack cig and quickly lighting himself a new one. He
intended to finish on this one.

Sanji didn't realize that he was now smoking out of pure annoyance and not stress but the
swordsman noticed. He suppressed his smile.

“I see your fighting spirit is back, shit cook.”

“…What?”

“What was the last time we did team-up together?”

"Why- are you in a reminiscing mood or something, old man?"

"If I'm old, you're old too. Just answer the question."

“Did you count when we played docking 15 against Oars?”

“It didn’t exist.”

After all those years, Zoro was still embarrassed about that incident. Sanji snickered for the first
time since the conversation started.

“The Davy Back fight, then.”

“Ah, I remember you looked fucking stupid in that hat, Ballman.”

Sanji kicked Zoro under the blanket. The kick scorched his leg. It hurt like being hit by a hot
branding iron. The cook must heat it up a little before kicking, the real asshole.

The cook is back, thought Zoro, relieved.

64.

He was just good at having a poker face.

Zoro wasn't calm, not at all, especially not after listening to the man he cared about beating and
blaming himself. He had prepared himself for the talk but even it didn't prepare him enough for the
fucking mess that was the cook's head.

None of them had a good role model for a relationship but because of his past, Sanji would always
be the hesitant one out of the two. Zoro had always known this. He didn't know what triggered him
this time but it didn't matter; they'd deal with his self-hatred now.

It made him mad because it was never alright to be content with scraps of love. No one deserved
that.

It pissed him off badly because even as an orphan, Zoro never felt lacking anything during his
childhood. Koshiro and Kuina were always there for him. And here was Sanji who was born a
prince - who decades later was still suffering the consequences of that abusive asshole’s actions.
Fate was a fucking twisted bastard.

He wished they could have had a talk in a better circumstance when the cook wasn't this
emotionally wrecked even he was fully aware that it was never going to be any easier.

He didn't say anything, letting the cook finish his third cigarette in peace first.

Sanji flicked away the finished cigarette butt, feeling better. He was still exhausted but his mind
was a bit clearer now.

He glanced sideways to marimo sitting still beside him.

"Just say what you want to say, shit head."

The swordsman looked back at the cook. Their eyes met. Zoro knew this wasn't going to be the last
time he'd see the man in this vulnerable state when he doubted everything. The pain was a part of
Sanji despite how much Zoro wished there could be a way to end his pain.

They'll be okay. His mind told him and it was telling the truth.

He'd made a decision - long ago even before he realized he wanted to spend his life with the cook -
that he'd tell Sanji, anytime and anyplace, whenever he needed to hear it, that he was worthy. That
he deserved the world. He had been doing this for the cook since the disbandment and if he was
allowed, he would be willing to tell Sanji the same thing for the rest of his life.

"If you want to wait, I'll wait for how long it'd take. But -" but I want you to see this - that this
could be our future, together and we'll make it different. Different than your mother's. “Fight for it
once more, cook. Let’s try the strength of our bond against the world and see if we could triumph
marriage.”

And he said what it needed to be said. The rest was up to the cook.

Zoro sounded uncannily like that one young man Sanji once knew. The way he phrased his words
was like the old times when the swordsman asked them to give their best to beat their enemies. The
way he spoke, eye shining bright, there was still much of the boy in this man, fearless and
ambitious, who always believed in the endless possibilities. But it was his tone that was different,
almost pleading. He sounded humble. He was different now, less arrogant and more mature, not
that stupid boy who wanted to throw away his life at any chance. He was aware of the difficulties,
knowing what he just asked Sanji was never going to be easy for both of them. As he challenged
him, Zoro begged for Sanji's help.

He was the only one who could drive him to surpass his limit, making him feel everything all at
once. Admiration. Indignation. Rivalry. Only Zoro could make him want to worship him and beat
the hell out of him at the same time.

Sanji opened his locker to put back the lighter and the cigarette pack. He had had enough cancer
for tonight.

If he can believe in it, why can't I? Am I not his equal?

"Idiot marimo talking about marriage when we aren't even boyfriends -" snorted Sanji but wasn't
callous to leave it hanging in the air too long for Zoro to misunderstand his intent. “Will you be my
boyfriend, Zoro?” He finished with a big shit-eating grin. He couldn't let the mosshead do all the
work and take all the credits, after all.

Did you ever know when his emotions changed, the shades of his grey eye changed with them?

From a flash of disappointment to a pleasant surprise, Zoro's eye finally settled on the warmest
shade of grey.

He finally grinned back.

“Aye.”

65.
Zoro woke up just before the break of dawn. This time with the cook by his side, using his arm as a
pillow, cuddling him.

It felt amazing.

Last night was almost dreamlike. Zoro didn't know which one of them fell asleep first. The
lingering anxiety from the talk had prevented them from going back to sleep so they chose to kill
time by talking more about things that came to their mind, miscellaneous, small and not a
relationship-related because they were too tired for anything heavy. It could wait for tomorrow.

We are lovers now.

The bodiless beast inside of him let out a purr of contentment. Zoro couldn't agree more with it; he
felt like purring too.

That, until the other part of his mind, one that was cautious and doubtful, unhelpfully voiced “?”
after the sentence that was already perfect, making Zoro questioned whether the last night’s
achievement did happen or it was just Zoro’s emotion-laden perception of a less lively reality.

A confirmation wouldn’t hurt.

The swordsman watched the cook who slept soundly in his arms. He hovered his hand above the
cook’s peaceful face, making up his mind and… pinching Sanji's cheek as hard as he could. He
forgot to mention that he always had inhuman strength.

The cook yelped, jerking awake and looking around drowsily.

Zoro felt the immense surge of raw satisfaction.

It was hard for Zoro to choose from which parts of the cook’s body to assault. What kind of a man
laid himself vulnerable and defenceless before his archrival? It was a simple invitation to be
bullied. He simply couldn't resist the temptation and had no regrets, not even when Sanji smacked
Zoro’s head, hard enough for his head to hit the wall and bounced back.

“What the hell, marimo!?”

“Oi, cook – have you chickened out yet? Are we still boyfriends?”

“Of course not, and yes. Let me fucking sleep,” the cook grumbled under his breath. He was a sight
to behold, ruffled hair, sleepy eyes, and a one-side reddened cheek. The cook rubbed his hand on
the cheek where Zoro pinched, giving him a glare. He expected further retaliation but the cook just
threw the blanket over his head, shielding his sensitive eyes from the irritation of the sunlight and
going back to sleep. The cook wriggled under his cocoon of the blankets several minutes before
going still, steadily filling the room again with the familiar sounds of his light snoring.

Zoro had a self-revelation again. This time, shorter and more honest.

I love you.

I love you so much.

66.

To be honest, nothing had significantly changed between marimo and him since the night they
became boyfriends. He didn’t suddenly see Zoro in a different light or find a new strong urge to be
overly affectionate with him.

Zoro was still Zoro, the same wayward, unemployed and smelly swordsman. The idea of getting
mushy with someone who bathed once a week was too horrific for Sanji to let it stay in his
consciousness for a mere minute. Better he banished it to the back of his mind.

But something had become different too. Small things. Sanji finally understood what used to be
unperceivable to him in the past. Like, the unexplainable joy he often got when he had Zoro’s
undivided attention or the unknown frustration he had when he had to think of reasons anytime he
wanted to linger his touch on the swordsman. These might be – and this was still a hypothesis, not
a fact, mind you – because Sanji had been in love with marimo far longer than he realized.

In love.

He often masked the feeling as merely physical attraction. It was like trying to fit in a pair of shoes
three size smaller; he knew it was more than that but the risk of getting them in an awkward
predicament was too high. He had closed one of his eyes so he could sleep at night.

He didn’t have to suppress anything, anymore.

Sanji felt so liberated. He could openly demand Zoro’s attention now because he was his
boyfriend. He could touch the man for no reason and owed no one an explanation now because,
know what, he was touching his boyfriend. Who knew, one word could solve most if not all of his
past dilemmas. He felt like grinning. He was grinning.

Sanji couldn’t stop grinning, fully realizing he was going to hurt his cheeks later and that he'd look
like a mad man to his staff but like hell, I care.

The Baratie crew had mixed feelings about the couple who finally acknowledged their couple-y
relationship. They didn't know whether to feel relieved or scared. The former feeling was
understandable as they all had been waiting for this time since forever. The latter, on the other
hand, was that they didn't know what to do with a happy head-chef. He was too nice.

Redleg Zeff, the wise old man on the ship, scoffed at those scaredy cats. When Eggplant was mad,
they were afraid; when he was nice, they were afraid. What the heck was wrong with these brats?
Where was the toughness of the sailors?

Zeff watched as the shitty Eggplant happily marinating chicken tenders for his dinner date tonight,
looking stupidly happy. The old man also knew that if he went outside the kitchen, he would run
into the brat's boyfriend. The grass lawn had been seen loitering around the hallway since the
morning, like an excitable dog waiting for its owner.

Was Zeff happy? Nah, this hadn’t been over yet.

He’d answer the question again when these two idiots finally got married.

And gave him grandkids.

67.
The dinner date was supposed to be their little celebration of the one-week anniversary as lovers.
The cook would prepare the dinner and Zoro would do all the table setting stuff on the rooftop of
the restaurant. The theme (oh dear lord, he'd just learned that eating needed to have a theme) set by
the cook was a candlelight dinner among the stars.

There was none. Tonight was a cloudy starless night. The cook should have learned from the sea
witch that weather was unpredictable but it wasn't like Zoro cared. He just wanted the cook and the
food. Well, at this moment, food was his top priority. They had not eaten anything since lunch so
Zoro was a bit keen to sit down and have something to eat- that is if the cook would finally fucking
serve them already.

It wasn't like Sanji didn't want to eat. He was fucking hungry too but he just couldn't. His dignity as
a chef and a gentleman was at stake.

Upon seeing the source of lighting on the table, the cook told him dryly that a storm lamp wasn’t
romantic at all, demanding Zoro to go change the appliance. Zoro, on the contrary, didn’t see the
point to go downstairs to replace the lamp with a candle when the former could do the job just fine,
even better.

“It gives brighter and longer light,” pointed out the swordsman in a desperate attempt to make the
snotty cook see the reason. In the dim light, Zoro could still see the withering look of the cook.
Sanji purposefully ignored his valid argument and insisted on Zoro getting the traditional candle
despite all of its impracticality or no food.

Zoro was now both hungry and angry. The latter overpowered the former so Zoro firmly planted
his ass on the chair, determining not to get up until he got to eat.

Sanji wished he could kick the manchild overboard. He would have done that had he not been busy
balancing plates of their dinner on his head and both of his arms, (he couldn’t put them on the table
yet or the moss would steal it and refuse to go get the damn candle.) He weighed on his mind
whether kicking him or playing nice would get marimo to move quicker.

He decided on softening him up.

“Marimo, no one wants brighter and longer light on their date night. They want to make out under
dimmed candlelight when the course is over.”

"..."

"..."

“Oh.”

The prospect of post-dinner intimacy was too far-fetched to turn it down, so Zoro had no choice but
to go get a candle.

Finally, sighed Sanji, sitting down on his chair and waiting for Zoro to come back before realizing
something very important-

That it took Zoro about three times longer than a normal human being to do a simple task like
fetching a candle.
By the time Zoro got back, the food already went cold, so was Sanji’s expression.

The cook was looking at him coolly from his seat, one’s leg crossed, and tapping fingers on the
table. Zoro suppressed the urge to shudder under the man’s icy glare. In this situation, a sensible
man would come up with a believable explanation to save his own hide but Zoro was not a man to
hide behind excuses, not because he didn’t want too, sometimes he desperately wanted to, but he
just could never come up with any good ones.

So, he did what he could and had been doing all along: bursting out the first thing that came to his
mind. “So, you still wanna make out after the meal?” asked Zoro, scratching his cheek and looking
uncharacteristically timid like a puppy who was still hopeful for a snack even though he had just
made a mess.

“No," said Sanji in his most stern voice, stretching out his hand, a silent asking for a candle which
Zoro gave without a protest. The side of Sanji's mouth slowly twisted up, changing from a scowl to
a soft smile before breaking into a full chortle.

This man was unbelievable. Who had the audacity to ask for a prize after getting lost for two hours
in a ship he had been living for five years? The way he instantly deflated, turning from hopeful to
dejected, by Sanji's rejection, was so comical.

He felt stupid for being mad at Zoro for getting lost. Of course, marimo would get lost!

He felt silly for getting himself worked up by unrealistic expectations. This was Zoro, not a
random lady - he didn't have to impress anyone here. Obviously, he was annoyed that he had to sit
in the dark for two hours watching the food turn cold and wouldn’t taste as good as when it was
hot, but the sight of the mosshead looking adorably like a kicked puppy seemed to be enough to
dissipate all Sanji’s annoyance.

“You are a miracle child, marimo. Who could fucking take two hours to get a candle from the
downstairs, Yayayayayayaya!”

Zoro, meanwhile, had never heard this kind of laughter from the cook since Thriller Bark when
Perona’s negative ghost forced him into the most pathetic, most humiliating state of a human being
in front of his eyes, dark blush rapidly creeping on his tanned face.

“Shut up!” shouted back the indignant swordsman before adding, “Your laughter is fucking
childish."

Sanji was humming smugly, throwing the candle up and down, not lighting it up yet. He wasn’t in
no hurry; there was no need to hurry at this rate as their food was already cold. Goading was more
important and more fun.

“You know what else’s childish?”

Zoro braced himself when the cook revealed his foxlike grin, “a man whose escape plan was to cut
off his own legs to avoid being turned into a human candle. Brilliant.”

The cook wasn’t there to see Zoro attempting the incredulous feat with his own eyes, too busy
sipping tea somewhere in the forest. Nevertheless, as soon as he learned about it, the story had
become the cook’s precious materials for teasing and it had been ten years already, damn cook.

“I didn’t plan to escape. I planned to fight and win,” Zoro crossed his arms over his chest
stubbornly. A petulant posture he employed whenever he felt unjustly offended and was unable to
protect himself with a normal method involving physical attacks. “In my defence, I was 19. What
did you fucking expect a teenager to do when he was stuck in wax?”

“Definitely not amputation; my teenage self would never. We didn’t even have Chopper on the
ship back then - that was simply a suicide,” Sanji countered easily, amused by the man’s futile
attempt to clear his name from the idiot list.

Finally, Sanji lit the candle, letting the glowing light softly illuminated their table and the
surrounding. He gestured the moss who had been standing all the time to sit down. The cook put
his hands under the chin and sighed at the beautiful sight that was a table with candlelight, “See,
isn’t it beautiful?”

Zoro looked at it with the intensity of a caveman who had just discovered fire.

“You’ve ruined it when you brought up your lover’s mistake from a decade ago,” Zoro huffed
before picking a fork, totally unappreciative of Sanji’s education on romance.

He'd admit to himself that the soft glowing light and its shadow that cast on one side of the cook's
face did make Sanji's feature look softened yet alluring at the same time.

“You ruined it first. I specifically told you ahead to get a candle yet you brought the goddamn
lamp, stupid marimo!"

And, whatever the spell that candlelight had cast on them, it was broken now.

They continued to bicker until the last beam of candlelight. When the light went out, the sky was
coincidentally clear of clouds, stars filling the darkness and shining brightly above the calm All
Blue.

Did they make out?

Only the stars could tell.

68.

The head chef of the Baratie fell down on the kitchen's cold floor, clutching his chest. The pain
was written over his face.

“Head chef!” the cooks yelled, all abandoning their works and rushing to their boss's side.

Sanji felt like his heart got electrocuted by a god’s lightning strike again.

This feeling could only mean one thing, he thought, looking grim.

They had arrived.

“If any of you spot a ship which looks like it’s fucking clouded in pink dust and rainbows of hell,
turn the ship and sail the opposite direction. If you get captured, then die but no one tells that damn
queen my whereabouts, and under no circumstance that you give them Marimo Island’s
coordinates. I'll kill you, got it?”

It was their boss's last order before he ran away from the kitchen, letting his sous chefs and all poor
waiters handling the arrival of the crossdressers by themselves.
"Such great leadership you have," reprimanded Zoro, squatting down and trying to see the man
currently hiding in his wardrobe through a small creak between the doors. He had given up trying
to open it because the cook kept slapping his hands away while hissing like a feral cat.

“This is rude. He was your mentor." He shook his head disappointingly because this was really
pathetic even for the cook.

“ It happened because Kuma was an asshole,” said the cook, voice muffled, “I was in hell for 2
years. I'm not gonna relive it again.”

“How bad could it be? I trained under Mihawk for 2 years too, with Perona annoying the hell out of
me on a daily basis,” Zoro told, simply wanting to point out that all of them suffered from the
training. He had no intention to rub on Sanji’s face that he’d spent two years with a beautiful girl -
he saw no beauty in Perona but her brattiness- but because Zoro was never good with phrasing and
Sanji was easily irritable, it resulted in the cook being bitter and salty. Even in the dark, he could
feel the closet monster glaring daggers at him. “I could kill to be in your place. I could kill you
right now. Don’t talk to me,” spat vehemently his lover, giving Zoro a cold shoulder.

Zoro shrugged, letting the cook hide as much as he pleased. He closed the door to his bedroom
even though he doubted it would make a difference if Ivankov really wanted to find the cook.
Without the cook to keep his company, Zoro's first thought was to take a lazy stroll to kill time
before taking a nap.

That was when he got a new and better idea.

While the cook was hiding, his chefs must be busy which meant the path was now clear for him to
steal some good booze that didn't taste like it was watered down.

Zoro hummed, pleased with himself and he took a change in the direction, heading to the dining
hall.

When he entered the hall, he found that every table was occupied by Okamas eating and
fluttering eyelashes at the very uncomfortable waiters. All eyes had been on the swordsman as soon
as he stepped a foot inside. The Okamas were giving him kisses and winks while the waiters were
sending him the quiet plea to do something.

Zoro had no plan to engage with neither of them; he just wanted booze.

His plan to ignore the crossdressers and go grab booze was interrupted, blocking by a sturdy man
in a purple leotard who was looking at him head-to-toe with gleeful interest.

“I called it! Candie digs bad boys," said the redhead Caroline triumphantly while the other Okamas
giggling along with her. Zoro didn't comment anything even when his name had been mentioned in
their conversation several times by now. He was too busy helping himself with the booze the
Okamas had ordered and thinking he did the right thing to come and sit with the Okama queen and
his Newkama Kenpo masters when he was invited.

After all, Zoro saw no point to refuse people's generosity when they were offering to pay for his
drink.
"So Zoro boy," Ivankov called for his attention, with his toothy grin that Zoro wasn't sure that was
his real mouth or just a makeup because he had been wearing the same grin since Zoro had met
him. Could he physically close his mouth? "Don't you happen to know where Sanji boy is, do
you?"

Zoro gulped down a large swing of beer straight from the bottle before answering him
diplomatically, “I do not meddle in what’s not my business.”

The Okamas squealed, "how loyal!" He wasn't, not in that sense of obedience anyway. He just
didn't want to be on the cook's bad side. Especially not after he had discovered how pleasant his
life could be when Sanji was being openly affectionate with him. He'd rather spend time with a
happy Sanji than a rabid one any day. Snitching would give him a rabid one.

Ivankov chuckled, "That's alright, me and Sanji boy could catch up later. Today, our girls are
already tired from travelling, we might depart earlier-" The cook would be overjoyed to hear that,
Zoro thought. It was not like the wardrobe was the most comfortable place for hiding. "Don't you
know a place for us to disembark until the wedding day?"

Zoro frowned slightly, remembering that the cook did threaten everyone not to give Ivankov their
island's coordinates. Zoro wasn't afraid of the cook's threat but he would admit he would prefer not
to hear his endless nagging. It gave annoyance to a whole new level.

“Cannot you find it yourself?”

Ivankov grinned mischievously, "We can pry anything out of anyone but we always have a soft
spot for pitiful boys like those waiters. Consent matters, you know. So you will tell me where to
find that mysterious island that my naughty boy is trying to keep it away from me, yeehaw!"
He shouted with a wink while holding a tiny cup of tea in his hand like a harmless granny, making
it look intimidating in a weird sort of disturbing way.

Zoro would not expect any less from an ex-revolutionist of a commander level and the cook's
mentor.

"No. Thanks for the booze anyway," refused Zoro, standing up and preparing to leave.

“I have something to trade for the coordinates,” bargained Ivankov, still having that full toothy grin
that started to get on Zoro's nerves.

“Not interested.”

“Aren’t you curious why we call him ‘Candie’?” the cunning queen said and fished out something
from his...leotard?

A quick glimpse into the item and Zoro knew he already lost this mind game.

He gave the Okama queen the coordinates. He also might help them load food and water on their
ship for the voyage. After that, he went back to his room to tell the cook that Ivankov had gone
before kicking him out of his wardrobe and locking the door.

Zoro wanted a little privacy so he could cherish his hard-won treasure. A photo set of the cook
when he was in Momoiro Island, in different positions and various kinds of dresses.

This wasn't him being a pervert or anything. He definitely didn't risk Sanji's wrath on a whim just
to see him in a hilarious pink chiffon dress and cakey makeup although some were quite
breathtaking when he toned down the makeup... but that was beside the point!

It was just that he had never had a picture of a 19-year-old Sanji before.

He didn't realize that he'd need it until Ivankov fanning the photo album in front of him. No one on
their ship had a camera; the closest thing he had for the 19-year-old cook's picture was his badly
drawn wanted poster. Seeing the pictures of young Sanji again had brought back fond memories of
the old days when they were just starting their pirate career. He felt like he could picture them now,
those teenagers training hard to come back to their crewmates.

The 19-year-old Zoro was lucky he got to keep his pants while training, though. Unlike a certain
Eyebrows, snickered Zoro before placing the album under his pillow.

69.

Not a single soul on the Baratie could sleep tonight, all waiting in trepidation for the final signal to
abandon ship. The boat had been shaken violently by the couple's fight that had been going on for
hours now.

"GIVE ME BACK MY PICTURES!" they heard the swordsman's thunderous roar, probably the
loudest sound he had ever made while living here.

"YOUR PICTURES HAVE MY FUCKING FACE ON IT. FUCK YOU, MARIMO! I'M
CONFISTICATING THIS BLASPHEMY!"

"Where is the owner-chef when we need him?" They all groaned, trying hopelessly to go back to
sleep.

Zeff had been taking days off, taking his doctor's advice ("let the kids take care of their own
problem and you take care of your high blood pressure",) and going on a fishing trip with the
fishermen of his age.

Zeff was having a great night, catching a weird fish and having a hot sake with his fishing pals.

His kids, not so much.

70.

It was perhaps their first real fight as a couple. It started because the cook fucking came to clean
Zoro’s room and found out the pictures Zoro put under his pillow.

“If you go behind my back again, I’m not going to propose, you idiot!” Yelled Sanji, steam coming
out of his ears, the pictures crumbled in one of his hands.

“Who makes the rule that you’ll propose. I’ll propose!” Zoro raised his voice, equally furious.
Fuck the cook. Who would know that man would come cleaning his room in the evening. Who
fucking cleaned a room in the evening?

“Just because I wore a skirt once which I was forced into! That mistake doesn't mean you’d wear
 the pants in our relationship!”

“Are you insane?! I’ve not fucking said a single word about your crossdressing hobby- don’t put
words in my mouth! I’ll propose because I’m a man more fitting for the job!”

“How so!?”

“Because I’m better than you, in every way. That's so!”

“Oh really!? Let's see who propose first with a proper ring, win. The loser wears a skirt for a whole
month."

"Fine by me. Get the hell out of my room."

The cook gave him the finger before storming back to his quarters. Zoro responded in kind with a
bigger flip off. Both went to bed believing that they were the one that was wronged and with a
determination that they would not get married if they weren't the one who proposed first!

Time was 7 days before the ceremony.

Chapter End Notes

The song that they sang in part 57 is "I hear a dream" sung by Vera Lynn; a different
version featured also in Gulliver's Travels (1939). I put the song's links in this
description below. I hope you check them out; this oldies but goodie music :)
Vera's version: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=G2ip_XQ_n3Y
Gulliver's version: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VEqawMf7fKo
 Chapter 7
Chapter Notes

Hi, everyone. First of all, thank you for your comments, kudos, and support. I don't
know how to say but they mean so much to me. This fic was originally supposed to be
a short one but everyone's kind words keep motivating me to write and try to write
better. I hope you all enjoy this chapter.

In the next chapter, we'll see the conclusion of the story!

*Edited* Special thanks and love to Amber3 who kindly proofread this chapter! You
are awesome <3

71.

You might be wondering what the other Strawhats had been up to while their crewmates had been
caught up in a rollercoaster of feelings.

Let's rewind back to several weeks ago. The very same day that the newspaper disaster took place.

Water Seven, early in the morning.

The blue-haired shipwright was about to begin his first task of the day at the Franky House's
shipyard. About a week ago, Franky bought an old caravel-type fishing ship on a whim. Its former
owner wanted the ship to be dismantled, with any valuable parts stripped for resale. Franky could
tell from first glance that the ship was special. From its strong foundation to its intricate wood-
carving designs, the ship was certainly built by some skillful shipwrights of the past. It would be
such a shame that its journey would end right here when it was still pretty much alive. It took
Franky a week to clear his chaotic schedule to finally have a good look at the little caravel, to see
what could be done to get her to sail the open sea again.

The workers had already gathered around the ship but before Franky could instruct them on what to
do, everyone heard a loud scream coming from the Franky House's headquarters that for five years
had served as the office of the Pirate King and his legendary navigator. Without thinking, Franky
thrust his chart at his junior shipboard supervisor and sprinted back to the house.

He burst into the room with his huge body; the door immediately shattered and tiny splinters were
sent flying everywhere. Franky didn't care about the damage to his property, he could fix it
anytime. What was important to him was his nakama inside the room. Nami was sitting on the
floor, clutching on the newspaper with a teary face.

“What’s wrong, sis?!” He asked in concern and didn't wait for an answer. The cyborg had his
artificial eyes zoom towards the newspaper in Nami's grip and quickly scanned the whole paper for
what could possibly be written in there to make his strong nakama cry in distress.

The process actually took less than a minute but after the first scanning result came out, Franky
paused and repeated the process again. Three times. Including lowering his sunglasses to read it
the old-fashioned way. Just to make sure that he didn't misread it.

The readhead chuckled at his reaction.

"I know right? I could hardly believe it at first. Then, I felt so overwhelmed, I had to cry," said
Nami with an apologetic smile. "Sorry 'bout that -- for making you run back here for no reason."
Her face was indeed covered in tears but her brown eyes were sparkling. It was joy she was feeling,
not distress.

Franky grinned back at his friend. "Next time when you hear great news like that just yell:
SUPERRR! So, I don't have to guess!”

Nami laughed, "Let's call the others, Franky!"

"Super!!"

Nami had quickly gathered all the Den-Den Mushi devices they had in the house while Franky
made a quick run to the shipyard to tell his men to proceed with the examination without him.
When he came back, Robin, Usopp, Brook, and Chopper were already on the line. Just hearing his
nakamas' voices together again made Franky feel emotional; he had to shed some manly tears to
compose himself before joining the conversation.

"Franky-san, have you been crying, yohohoho?" Brook noticed Franky's quietest sniffling noise.
As expected from the great musician, Brook's ears were always sharp, even though he actually had
no ears Franky thought. As if she read his mind, Robin interjected coolly,

"You might think you are discreet but you are always loud, Franky."

"Hey!"

“I still can’t believe they are finally getting married,” Nami patiently guiding them back to the real
topic, “It’s a miracle that they've figured things out by themselves.”

“They do owe you, Nami. It was you who suggested to our swordsman-san to stay with cook-san
after the disbandment,” Robin said.

“I just gave them the little push. But thanks for reminding me, Robin. Usopp, you owe me three
million berries because Sanji-Kun and Zoro are getting married before you and Kaya!” Nami cried
triumphantly. Today seemed to be her lucky day; she would get richer, with some extra berries in
her pocket for the next shopping trip.

"Was this your reason for organizing a group call?!" Usopp groaned, clearly unhappy. He didn't
expect to lose a huge fortune from talking to his friends for the first time in five years. "I thought
we are going to plan together what kinds of gifts to give to them at the wedding!"

“Well, that too. But 97.99% is to claim my money.”

“That’s not nice nor fair. I'm about to propose to Kaya! Crap," Usopp cursed, still couldn't get over
the loss of his money. "I thought I would win – I mean, it’s Sanji and Zoro we are talking about.
They are as dumb as a rock when it comes to their relationship!”

“Well, it’s your fault not grow a pair of balls to propose before those two grow a pair of brains.
Gimme my money and propose to Kaya or I’ll increase your debt interest."
"I'm glad that Nami-san is vicious as always, yohohoho!" Brook laughed, feeling delightful.

"That’s nothing to rejoice about, Brook!"

“In some cultures, men will live in the bride’s house and offer their labor to her family as a part of
the courting ritual to secure her hand in marriage,” Robin explained out of the blue. It was a very
Robin’s thing to give people a piece of knowledge they don’t know what to do with or want it in
the first place. Franky always saw her bizarre inputs to the discussion as her way of saying she was
happy to be here. Still, she was a weirdo.

“Robin, I love you but I don’t think Zoro and Sanji-Kun are aware of the existence of this
particular culture. I also don't think Zoro has been helpful to Sanji-Kun's restaurant in any shape or
form. He’s a freeloader." Nami had no faith in her vice-captain.

“It’s interesting, Robin! Where I can find the book?” Chopper chimed in.

“Who let Chopper in the adult talk!” Usopp teased. Chopper didn’t see his face to know that he
was joking. The naive reindeer shrieked angrily at the phone. The small den-den Mushi reacted
with a pouty face similar to its young caller.

“I’m an adult, you bastard! Don’t you dare exclude me! I read about human marriage and know
everything! I want to be a flower boy!”

'That is a position for a kid, not an adult.' Everyone suppressed their laughter and played along
with their youngest friend.

“No way, I call dibs on flower boy!” Franky joined Usopp in bullying Chopper.

“Franky…” Robin warned.

Chopper’s word did make Nami realize that something was off about this situation. She was too
happy to notice at first but the more she thought, the more it was unlikely for both Sanji and Zoro
to publicize their personal affair, especially without telling the other Strawhats first.

“Hey, everyone. Don’t you think it’s a bit weird that they didn’t let us know about the wedding
before telling the press? Or ask for our help."

Franky scratched his chin thoughtfully, "Two months ago, I got a call from Sanji asking for Luffy's
coordinates. He was up to something, said it was a surprise so I didn't pry."

"Cook-san might want to tell us when they are ready. It's possible that someone might leak it to the
newspaper," Robin analyzed.

"I think we don't have to look too far for the culprit who started it all..." Usopp said. Whenever
Luffy's name was mentioned in the story, everyone reached the same conclusion.

"Where is that idiot again...I really need a drink," Nami murmured to herself.

72.

They decided to respect their nakamas' decision and wait for the two to contact them by
themselves. Three days later, the first letter signed from the floating restaurant arrived in every
Strawhat's mailboxes. From the handwriting, it clearly belonged to Sanji. But, the disarrayed
manner and the lack of Sanji-y aesthetics like perfumed letters (for girls only), and his curly
signature, was an obvious signpost that its writer was too upset to bother with his usual
embellishment.

'WE ARE NOT GETTING MARRIED. THE NEWS IS A LIE. I WILL FIND THE MOLE AND KILL
IT. Love, Sanji.'

"Cook-bro was mad," Franky commented to the navigator who had gone silent after reading the
letter. The cyborg tried to shake the empty envelope in the hope of finding another hidden message
inside. He couldn't hide his disappointment when he found none. "Huh, it's a rumor after all?"

Nami slammed her hand on the table, "Damn it, Sanji-Kun! You've just made me lose three
million berries!"

"Yeah, it seems someone here is mad too," Franky mumbled to himself. "Today is not super."

They received another letter, sent shortly after the first one. This time, it was much more coherent
like the writer had finally pulled himself together to sit down, write it properly, and calmly refrain
himself from shouting in capital letters.

'My apologies for my inappropriate outburst in the previous letter. This is to clarify that Zoro and I
are not getting married. Period. However, there will be a celebration for the 5th year anniversary
of the Baratie's All Blue by the end of the next month and I want to invite you, my friend, to
celebrate with marimo and I, my crew and I. I'm looking forward to cooking for you guys again.
Regarding the culprit who spread the so utterly untrue rumor about marimo and me, I found him.
Sadly, he was unpunishable but I'm still going to destroy that fucking fake-news bird's
headquarters. P.S. marimo is insufferable and it's a matter of time when I decide to end him. I hope
you all don't mind his absence.'

"Well, at least, there is still a party and I haven't yet lost my bet to Nami. A win, right?" Usopp
shook his head after reading the second letter. He genuinely didn't mind to lose his money to Nami
if that meant the 'couple' he had long rooted for finally realized their feeling for each other.

At Reverse Mountain, Brook was still optimistic. "A celebration is a celebration! I'll put all my
heart in composing the most jovial music for Sanji-san's restaurant's anniversary. If it's important to
Sanji-san, it's important to me!"

Laboon cried as if to ask the skeleton about the songs he'd composed for the wedding in the past
three days. Brook gently patted his scarred head; the doodle drawing of the Strawhat's Jolly Roger
on the whale's head was still bright like it was painted yesterday. It may look like it came naturally
for Brook to accept things the way they were, not how he wanted them to be. But, that was because
he had lived the longest and had years of practicing to live with disappointment.

"Sanji-san and Zoro-san are still young, they still have so much time to discover their happiness
and I will still be alive to see the eventual wedding because I'm already dead and living,
yohohoho!"

The other Strawhats' disappointment had subsided as the day moved forward, and they began to
feel a thrill of anticipation. It might not be the kind of celebration they hoped for but the prospect of
seeing everyone together again was more than enough to make up for their previously dimmed joy.
Franky and Usopp started talking with each other over the den-den Mushi every day about the gifts
they wanted to build for Sanji and Zoro. Franky was going to send his newest invention's blueprint
to Syrup Village for Usopp. The moment he was tying the letter on the messenger bird, he realized
they were being silly. Franky told everyone to come stay at Water Seven so they could sail to All
Blue together on the Sunny like good old times.

Besides Luffy who had probably wrecked havoc somewhere only gods knew, everyone had shortly
gathered at the Franky House. The first night that they all had arrived, Nami decided to throw a
small party to celebrate their little reunion. Seeing how they perfectly fell back into their old
dynamics made her realize how incredulous life was; it tricked her into feeling content from just
writing to Robin, or calling Usopp once in a blue moon when she missed them all this much.

The night messenger bird with a bundle of Sanji's letters knocked on the house's mirror during their
party.

'Well guys, there might be a wedding???'

'"Did everyone get the same message I just got?"

"I'm a bit confused, perhaps I've had too many drinks and I don't have eyeballs."

"I'm drunk too, Brook. Maybe I'll try to read it tomorrow."

"Let's go to bed, Chopper."

"But I'm not tired yet, Robin!"

"I think I'll need more drinks..." Nami rubbed her temples, sensing the upcoming headache that
unfortunately was not from the alcohol.

The next day, everyone had sobered up and ready to crack the code that was Sanji's cryptic
message. And, there was the fourth letter, that had arrived just before the dawn.

'Please disregard the latest letter. It's complicated.'

Even Robin was lost and she read Poneglyph.

"I think I've lost a significant amount of confidence in my translating skill," Robin admitted with a
faint smile that showed she was actually more amused than upset. Chopper still tried to make her
feel better by going to sit on her lap and giving a word of encouragement, "It's not your fault,
Robin! Sanji is bad at communication."

"Thank you, Chopper."

"You are right, Chopper," Nami said in a definite tone and picked up a den-den Mushi. "If he
insists on not giving a straight answer tonight, I'm so gonna increase his debt to the point he'll go
bankrupt."

73.
Ring, Ring.

Sanji paused from reading a book to look at the ringing snail phone on his nightstand. Zoro poked
his head through the bathroom door to yell the obvious.

"Cook, the phone is ringing!"

"I'm not deaf!" Sanji glowered back from the bed, putting down his book and placing his reading
glasses back in their case. "Don't forget to wash behind your ears!"

Zoro scoffed as if the concept of personal hygiene personally insulted his swordsmanship. He
looked ridiculously like a petulant stinky five-year-old -- that if a five-year-old had green stubble.
Marimo was leaning on the ugly side of the kid spectrum.

"We have the deal, stick to it. If I find any part of your body is untouched by water, you will not
sleep on my bed, and I will not let you borrow my razor."

"Then, I'll shave with my sword."

Sanji was torn between getting out of his warm blanket to drown marimo in the bathtub and
picking up the phone. Whoever was calling him at this late hour was quite persistent, it might be
something important. Sanji decided he should not be rude by keeping them waiting any longer.

"Go ahead, cut your throat and be quiet. I'm on the phone. Hello, Sanji's speakin-"

Zoro chose the moment that Sanji picked up the phone to slam the bathroom door shut. Son of a
bitch.

"One minute, dear," Sanji apologized to the person on the line who had yet said anything, covered
the snail's eyes, and yelled at the door, "Don't just water your green lawn, be generous with soap!"

He heard something small hit the door, probably a bar of soap. Feeling slightly better, Sanji went
back to the phone.

"So, where did we leave off -"

He didn't have a chance to finish what he was going to say when the angelic angry voice of his
beloved Nami-san greeted him.

"Sanji-Kun, the truth."

The goddess left no room for a weak mortal's excuse, as always.

Sanji sweated.

Sanji had run over any plans and prayers he could think of to avoid the outcome he wanted to avoid
the most: his sea goddess's wrath. Her voice was so stern and cold, it sent a chill to his bone.
Where was the mosshead when he did actually need him? Right, in the bathroom. Sanji might be
the one who kicked him in there in the first place; what shitty timing. Had he known his Nami-san
would call him tonight, he would have kept marimo around for mental support. Technically, Zoro
wouldn't be of any use, in fact, he would likely say something stupid which further infuriated
Nami-san and doomed them both with debt. But Sanji was desperate for anything that could divert
Nami-san's attention away from him.
"Umm, nice to hear your angelic voice again, Nami-san!"

"I didn't know that Zoro is in your room. We will definitely get back to that later but first, Sanji-
Kun -- your letters have confused us. You, of all people, should know that dresses for attending a
wedding and for other occasions are very different. We've waited for you to eventually tell us but I
only have 6 days left to find the dress for your undecided ceremony. Don't you think an
explanation is due?"

"Well, when you phrase it that way, I think you are right. You are always right, Nami-san! But,
umm, it's a long story. I don't want to bore you."

"We have time."

"'We'?"

"Yes, Robin and Usopp are with me right now, but everyone is already in Water Seven. We are
preparing to go see you and Zoro in All Blue together."

"Good evening, cook-san."

"Yo, Sanji. Chopper and Franky are giving Brook a tour. The last time he visited Water Seven was
like fifty years ago. Franky is taking him to see Kokoro-san. He tricked Brook into believing she
was a beautiful mermaid!"

Sanji laughed. His heart filled with wordless joy just from hearing the long-nosed sniper and the
beautiful archaeologist. He wished he could see that perverted skeleton's reaction to Kokoro-san.
His smile quickly dimmed with guilt when he was reminded that everyone had come together for
him. He had been so caught up with his emotions. The past few weeks were overwhelming but it
was never an excuse for him to ignore his nakama.

"Sanji-Kun..." Nami took over the phone again. Her voice softened. She was intuitive and always a
further step ahead in predicting everything, from the weather to her friend's feelings.

"We want you to be happy and we want to celebrate with you, but to do that we need to know what
has happened between you and Zoro; we want to help. I know it’s intrusive of me to pry into what
you might not be comfortable to shari-"

"No, no. I'm willing to share. Honestly. But where do I start..." Sanji pinched his nose in
frustration. He did mean what he had just said. But, even when he wanted to open up to his nakama
about his new relationship with Zoro, he still had no idea how to sum it up. A little mountain of
crumbled letters in his office was a great reminder of his struggle and resignation to put it into
words.

"You could try to start in chronological order," Nami advised practically. Sanji leaned his back on
the pillow, trying to give himself a comfortable position as he knew this would be a long talk. In
the background, he heard the sound of water running which was a good sign that the marimo was
keeping his promise. Life was unfair and unkind to him. The mosshead was chilling in a bathtub
with Sanji's rubber duck while Sanji was being tasked to explain to Nami-san the shitty mess of
their relationship that got started off by a fucking piece of fake news.

"Well, the news was indeed a lie, completely made up by the newsmonger bird. I had been
planning for my restaurant's 5th-year anniversary and I had no idea from where that rumor
originated. And, my old man had to, pardon my rudeness, be an asshole and added the fuel to the
fire-"
Nami refrained from commenting that she might know who the first rumor mill was but she didn't
want to interrupt Sanji's train of thought. Besides, killing his own captain wouldn't change
anything.

"-And since then, my nakamaship with the mosshead has become complicated. It went downhill,
then uphill, and downhill again in a short span of weeks. It's really awkward and complicated.
Have I mentioned complicated?"

"You did. Three times."

"Right, it's really complicated. As I told you before, it's quite a long story. I'm afraid I'd be wasting
your tim-"

"I don't mind. By the end of this call, I want to know exactly what kind of the celebration I am
going to attend," the navigator said firmly. "Tell me everything, Sanji-Kun. But, if it would make
you feel better, I will charge for my service for listening to your love story. 10,000 berries per
minute."

"You are a monster, Nami!" Sanji could hear Usopp's cry but all he could hear was when Nami-san
said his love story.

Her wording was distracting and Sanji found it hard to concentrate; his face couldn't stop glowing
hot for no reason. Sanji had a sudden urge to cloak himself in invisibility because he felt
too exposed. But, he had promised himself to never use Germa's technology again so the cook
resorted into hiding his flustered face under the pillow which kinda smelled like marimo.

Because it was the mosshead's pillow. The one he had slept on whenever he stayed the night.
Fuck.

"Nami-san, love is quite a strong word," Sanji murmured weakly to the mattress.

"You are going to marry someone and say love is a strong word?"

Sanji felt like he was dying.

"...Yes?" He answered, unsure and completely dried up. "I'm not used to it. Everything has gone so
fast..."

For the man who had shamelessly spilled the same word to annoy the hell out of her and any other
women to become such a bashful virgin all a sudden, Nami was indecisive if she wanted to laugh at
him or bash his head, probably both.

"Don't play shy, I'm still charging you for my services."

"Thank you, I'm feeling much better knowing that I can compensate you for kindly lending an ear
to hear my plight."

Sanji said and he had all the intention to pay Nami-san. He was a successful entrepreneur and his
beautiful goddess deserved all of his wealth.

"I'm speechless." Usopp would never understand the mind of the rich.

"Don't mind the poor, Sanji-Kun. Continue."

"...I’ve never completely comprehended how his brain works. When we learned about the news,
he... asked me to marry him. It was weird right, Nami-san? I mean, we have been nakama for over
a decade, then he suddenly came up with some sort of self-realization overnight and decided to
confess to me! It was the most horrible confession in the history of love confessions, in fact, I don't
even want to recognize it as a love confession," ranted Sanji but still clutched onto Zoro's pillow.
"Needless to say, I was unprepared. It was so out of the blue. I mean, since when Zoro had shown
any signs of being romantically interested in any life forms -- let's alone me. He totally caught me
off guard."

"Right, there were no signs at all," Nami couldn't resist rolling her eyes. Sanji didn't catch on her
sarcasm.

"We decided to try dating like seven weeks ago but marimo has been fixated on getting married. I
mean, we have just become boyfriends like last week, everything is still new. He thinks so little
about marital life-" Zoro chose this to be the right moment to walk out of the bathroom and Sanji's
breath hitched. The swordsman was dripping wet, with only a towel tied loosely around his hips. It
pained Sanji's soul to admit it but Zoro did have a nice body, muscular and bronze-skinned. Almost
like he had been forged by the hands of gods, to be the epitome of beauty that mankind should
strive to achieve.

"-I don't think he thinks at all!" Sanji shouted to silent the lewd thought. Sanji's mind had been
straying down that treacherous path again. He rather cut off his own manhood than get a boner
while Nami-san was on the phone.

Zoro immediately turned to glare at him, angrily drying his head with another towel. From his
impatient manner, it seemed the marimo wasn't going to let his hair dry completely and was also
likely getting dressed while he was still wet. Again. Sanji shook his head but the moments like this
always comforted him -- that Zoro was still a flawed human. And Sanji could have a chance to be
with him.

"Hang on a minute, Nami-san."

Hiding his secret smile, the cook beckon his swordsman to come to sit by the bed. Zoro narrowed
his eye in suspicion but complied. The cook sat straight and let his legs hanging over the side of
the bed. The snail phone cradled against his shoulder, Sanji took the towel from the swordsman's
hand and started drying his hair, gently massaging his scalp. Zoro closed his eye and let out a low
purr of contentment. His green lawn smelled like a lemongrass-scented bathing gel because
marimo mistook it for shampoo again.

"Wait, is Zoro purring?" Nami asked.

Zoro reopened his eye, "I'm not going to speak to the sea witch."

"Hey! At least, try pretending to be happy to hear me, you idiot."

"Ignore him, Nami-san! He is being a manchild. Even a five-year-old knows better than to sleep on
the bed when his head is still wet."

"It's not like I'm going to catch a cold. I'm not weak."

"I'm well informed that a madman never gets sick. I'm more worried about molds on my
pillowcase."

Sanji dutifully finished drying and nudged the man's back with his foot. "Go get dressed. I'm going
to talk to my sweet beautiful goddess!"
Zoro frowned and refused to budge. He had wrapped his arm around Sanji's leg and began to
brutally assault it with kisses. Sanji gasped in surprise.

"Ah! Shit! You bastard! Stop it," Sanji hissed in his lowest voice.

He forgot that the phone was right next to his mouth.

'Idiots.' Nami thought, wishing someone would someday invent a phone that would let her beat the
hell out of some lovestruck fools in real-time. She didn't ask for them to for a demonstration and
she didn't deserve this mental torture.

And, Sanji-Kun had the audacity to claim that their relationship was new. Totally going to increase
his debt for lying.

Usopp looked like he was going to faint from just hearing his friends making out. Nami went to get
some drinks for him and herself.

Robin gladly took over the phone.

"Cook-san, if you are concerned about married life, I think you two have gained enough
experience from pre-marriage living together. Objectively speaking, you are more than ready to get
married."

"Wait. What! We have never practiced pre-marriage living together, Robin-chan!"

"Could have fooled me," Nami said dryly, sipping her gin.

"Cook-san. We might not talk to each other very often but I've read your letters for five years.
Swordsman-san sleeps in your room, takes you shopping, eats with you and gave you gifts long
before you two officially started dating," the archaeologist listed matter-of-factly.

Sanji felt like he was having an episode of existential crisis; his reality was breaking apart.

Zoro had much calmer self-realization. "It makes sense."

Sanji tried to get his leg out of the menace's iron grip to no avail.

"Shut up! You said you don't want to partake in the conversation, so you shut your mouth!"

"Who gives you the right to dictate my actions!"

"Are you two going to get married or not?" Nami asked bluntly.

Sanji looked into Zoro's eye just to confirm that marimo was on the same page with him. "Well,
yes-"

"-But, on one condition," Zoro finished.

74.

The night that they fought over who was going to be the one to propose, Zoro's room got
absolutely trashed. Broken glass pieces, torn fabric, a pile of dust that was once Zoro's bed, and big
charred holes on the wooden floor, courtesy of the cook. Sanji had retreated back to his lair and
Zoro suddenly realized that his room was too wrecked to sleep in.

The swordsman stomped off to the cook's room and banged the door. The cook slammed it open
and yelled at him in anger.

"I don't want to see your face, right now! Go the fuck back to your room!"

"Do you think I want to fucking see your face? I can’t sleep in my room!"

Sanji attempted to shut the door but Zoro had already wedged it open with his foot. The cook kept
yanking the door's handle on his side with frustration.

"Do you think I care!?"

"Let me in or I'll destroy your room!"

Sanji gritted his teeth but let go of the door. He reluctantly stepped aside to let the shitty
swordsman in. He knew first-hand how destructive Zoro could be and didn't want to risk his room
taking damage from the marimo's rampage.

They prepared to go to sleep in silence. Sanji put a side pillow in the middle of the bed so he didn't
have to see the infuriating face of the person sleeping on the other side of it. Zoro had turned his
back on him but still, Sanji stood by his point. He didn't want the unpleasant sight of anything
green.

Sanji's rest was doomed. There was too much lingering anger in his system; he was too worked up
to sleep. His mind kept returning to their previous fight and the challenge which he had no idea
how the hell they ended up with this fucking dilemma. Was a wedding preparation supposed to be
this stressful? Seriously, hadn't Sanji been busy enough? There were hundreds of things waiting for
him to address, now that his restaurant's anniversary took a 360-degree whip-around to his own
wedding. He needed to cancel his last order for flowers because they couldn't use the color scheme
palette of the anniversary for his wedding. He needed to decide on a new one and finalize
everything before telling his nakama.

Oh, and now he had to do all of those things he had mentioned above while trying to avoid Zoro's
proposal ambush. And who the hell would be the judge to decide the winner, anyway? Sanji was
definitely not planning on saying yes because it'd mean he’d lost to Zoro. He doubted marimo
would agree to marry without a fight too. But, if there was no winner, they couldn't get married and
the wedding ceremony that he had slaved away at for months would be for naught and the biggest
embarrassment of the century. Sanji's eyes were bloodshot and wide open in the dark. The
prospect of threats to his wedding made him want to hyperventilate.

Sanji decided to give a reassuring speech to himself. "I will win even if I have to kill him and put a
ring on his corpse's cold finger."

Darkness replied back in marimo's annoyingly cocksure voice. “You could never put a ring on my
finger.”

Sanji was going to kick the side pillow along with the man on the other side out of his bed when a
light bulb went off in his head.

"I don't want to speak to you right now but this is important. Hear me out--"
When he was done talking, the side pillow was lifted off. Zoro's eye was glowing in the dark,
staring at him in disbelief.

Sanji frowned, "Put the pillow down, I'm still mad at you."

"Are you sure you want to do it that way?"

Zoro asked and Sanji knew what he was thinking. Zoro might have expected Sanji to want their
wedding to be perfectly planned, elegant and dreamlike. The two lovers in white, sharing the
promise of eternal love at the altar. The sweet fragrance of rose petals and cakes. Sanji had a taste
of something like that before on the sweetest island. The true color of the fairytale wedding that
was nothing but bitterness. Freedom getting stripped away from the couple.

"There will still be a party and food. And, I want it to be impeccably perfect. But, I want this to be
done our way."

It might sound like he suggested the plan on a sudden impulse but it definitely wasn't out of
desperation. Zoro looked intensely into Sanji's eyes and let out a deep chuckle.

"How could I refuse the invitation to kick your ass? Fine, I accept the challenge."

"Good."

"Let's settle it once and for all," they said in unison.

75.

"They are cursed with idiocy. And, it is incurable. Not even Chopper could find a cure to this
disease," Nami wrapped up after reiterating the conversation with Sanji and Zoro to the other
Strawhats who missed last night's phone call.

"Well, you are not the one they are asking for a favor," Usopp said, still trying to wrap his head
around Sanji and Zoro's request. "But on the bright side, I don't have to think of gifts to give them."

Usopp had been contenting himself with just listening to Nami berating the monster duo after
hearing the whole story of their 'conditional' wedding. Nami's screech made Usopp focus on
keeping the redhead's glass refilled so she wouldn't get a sore throat from yelling too much.

Usopp was quite surprised when both of them asked to speak with him after the big lecture they had
just received from Nami. It turned out that they had planned to call him for a favor today if Nami
hadn't called them first.

Usopp heard out their request. Nami inched to take over the phone and yell at them again. Robin
patted the navigator's shoulder consolingly.

Usopp asked for clarification. "Umm, just to make sure that I've got this right. Are you guys sure
that’s a marriage proposal?"

"It's the only way that we can wed without me murdering the mosshead at the alter," Sanji
reaffirmed. Usopp grimaced, "Yup. Gonna pretend not to hear another combative term used in the
ceremony of love. But yeah, it sounds like something Zoro would want to do but I never expected
you to be totally on board with it."

"Oi, what do you mean by that, Usopp?!"

"He means a sappy prince like you should be into some sort of boring fairytale wedding." Usopp
heard the swordsman's yawn. Obnoxiously loud. With the intention to piss off the person right next
to him.

"Rephrase! I was trying to say, ugh, I mean like you always have a taste for classic stuff? So, I
thought..."

Sanji completely ignored Usopp and went for Zoro's blood.

"If I'm into fairytales, I would fucking wed a princess, not a castle guard."

Usopp had listened for ten full minutes of their bickering.

Somehow his doubt about the feasibility of their wedding disappeared. The sniper cleared his
throat and said with a grin, "about the rings, I'd gladly take the job, just send the materials to me."

"Hey, thanks a lot, Usopp," Sanji said sincerely.

Usopp rubbed his nose, " It's my highest honor."

The plan was insane. Too reckless. Too heretical even for pirates. But, wouldn't it befit the
marriage of two monsters? Usopp had already known for a fact that whatever was going to happen
on that wedding day would go down in history.

"I think Luffy-san would love to officiate this kind of union," Brook pointed out. Everyone nodded
in agreement.

"How did they come up with this idea. It's pretty cool even though I don't think I'll try it myself,"
Franky wondered.

Nami snorted. "Likely from beating the shit out of each other-"

"-On the bed," finished Robin with a mischievous smile, taking pleasure in watching her friends
turned green.

"Yuck! Nico-Robin, I don't need that image of my bros doing the deed in my head!"

Chopper frowned; confusion was clearly written on his face. The reindeer hated when he couldn't
follow up with his friends' human jokes and pouted, "I don't understand, Usopp."

"I wish I were you, Chopper," Usopp looked traumatized.

"Anyway, did you ask Sanji for me about the flower holding position?"

"I don't think they would need a flower boy...Hey, don't pout - you'll be having the most important
role in the wedding!"

"Really!? What is it? Tell me!"

"A doctor."
"...What?"

76.

The fast-track messenger bird had been waiting in Sanji's office for two hours and looked clearly
unhappy. It was told to come by noon to receive a parcel and deliver it to Water Seven on the same
day. It was on time but it had to wait for one of the customers who didn't know the concept of
punctuality. And mind you, the Grandline was far far away from All Blue.

Sanji tried to pacify the bird by giving it some breadcrumbs which it reluctantly took. The head
chef almost rang his staff downstairs to locate the problematic lost child when the man finally
showed up. Sanji heaved out a sigh of relief and flashed him a sly grin.

"Have you been struggled to find something to send to Usopp to forge my ring? The last time I
checked, you don't have any possessions," Taunted the cook, "I don't do cheap stuff, you know."

"Fuck you. The stairs moved. I already have what I need," the swordsman bared his teeth at the
cook and took off-- his three golden earrings.

...

...

Zoro took off his three golden earrings that as far as Sanji remembered, had been the part of the
swordsman's life, and placed them on his desk. His stoic face was as void of remorse as ever.

Sanji looked at the shinning earrings, lost for words. Zoro frowned at the cook's stunned face,
taking it that he wasn't satisfied with the quality of a wedding ring made from the earrings.

"What? They would be enough to make a ring for your scrawny finger, and they are real gold."

Sanji looked at Zoro and knew it would take time for him to stop noticing the absence of the three
earrings, their soft chiming when Zoro moved, their weight and their cool touch when he brushed
his hand against them. Sanji felt like he cared for Zoro's stuff more than the man himself.

The bird tapped its webbed claw on the window sill in annoyance, urging them to hurry.

The cook looked away from Zoro's gaze and pulled out a small box from his drawer. He put Zoro's
earrings in the box before placing it in the parcel. The bird took it and flew away. Zoro didn't get
the chance to see what was on the inside. "What's in there?"

The cook let out a melancholic smile, soft and vulnerable. It had stayed just for a brief moment. In
the blink of an eye, it was gone and been replaced with a confident grin. "The past that I want to
turn into my future."

The wedding day was approaching. At dusk, the parcel had arrived at Franky House's doorstep and
Usopp set for Franky's workshop. No one was in there but him. Franky had been working with his
own wedding gift project for Sanji and Zoro at the dockyard. The shipwright had rarely slept in the
Franky House as they were competing against the deadline. Usopp also planned on not leaving the
workshop until the rings were finished. Those idiots and their emotional constipation had given
him such a short amount of time to work with. Usopp thought of them and their still missing
captain. Those monsters and their unbelievable demands that always pushed a mortal like him to
surpass his limits.

"What did they send to you for making the wedding rings?" Nami poked her head round the door
and asked with a curious look on her face.

"In that small box." Usopp pointed his finger at the box on a drawing table while trying to prepare
a furnace. "If my old measurements of their fingers are still accurate, they would make a perfect
pair of wedding rings just right."

Nami let herself in the workshop, trying to avoid stepping on some blueprints. The ground was
messy. "Since when did you have their measurements?"

"I helped redesign Sanji's raid suit. And, got myself a front-row view of Zoro's hand when I
became his sword...after he proposed to cut off my hand."

"...Sorry for triggering your traumatic experience," Nami offered her apathetic condolences.

"Are you bored or something? You never come to the workshop."

"I like jewellery," the navigator offered simply. Usopp knew there was more but didn't comment.
Nami was thankful for his consideration. She just wanted to see --the making of a special kind of
jewellery. The kind that a woman who had lived a life like her could never possess.

"I can make a set for you, you know, one day," the sniper said. Nami smiled at Usopp and opened
the box.

She gasped.

There were Zoro's three-piece earrings and,

...A broken piece of the golden bracelets that Sanji-Kun was forced to wear by his estranged
'family'.

77.

Sanji didn't ask Zoro why did he give away the earrings and Zoro hadn't brought up the mysterious
object in the box they had sent to Usopp. They both knew the other had a reason and they would
learn everything on the wedding day. Now, there were still many small but important things to
attend. Sanji summoned one of his staff and asked him to go fetch his lazy boyfriend. This was no
longer the planning for the anniversary, Zoro could not play freeloader if he wanted to get married.
He had to fucking use his brain to help Sanji decide things for their wedding.

Zoro wasn't happy that he had to give up on his afternoon nap to help Sanji "pick some color
nonsense again."

"Again?" Zoro plopped himself on the couch, preparing to go back to sleep. "We already did it.
Why do you want to go over it again?"

Sanji slapped his hand angrily on a thick volume of the wedding palette collection. "That was for
the anniversary! This is for the wedding!"

"What is wrong with the previous one, just use it for the wedding!" Zoro didn't try to understand.
"The previous color palette was blue-toned. We need a new one that represents both you and me,
idiots!"

"Why can I not use the blue one I chose last time?"

"Your hair is green," Sanji stated matter-factly.

Zoro sat up and stared him down. "What does it have to do with my hair color? Wait, don't tell me
you are assigning me a green-color scheme because of my hair?" The look on the cook's face told
him much. The swordsman scoffed. "I don't even like green!"

Sanji blinked in confusion. "W..what?"

"Do people born with black hair have to like black?"

"Don't be a smart ass, you wear green. All the time."

"I didn't pick the color, I picked the clothes. Can't I have blue?"

"Blue has been taken by me and Franky."

Zoro crossed his chest stubbornly. "I want blue."

"Now, you want blue just to piss me off..." Sanji sighed, "fine, which tone do you want your blue
to be?"

Zoro sweated.

In the end, they finally settled on the blue tone of Zoro's old favorite undershirt when they had an
adventure on the sky island.

Zeff came back from his vacation. The staff received the order to sail the floating restaurant to
Marimo Island where the ceremony was going to be held. The main reason was that the wedding
cake was too huge that the biggest table they had couldn't handle its weight. During the time until
the wedding day, the couple had more fights over small things that Zoro found unimportant and
Sanji would get a dark thought to just smother his boyfriend with a pillow.

78.

The night before the wedding, the famous lion-headed ship had arrived. The islanders and pirates
cheered for the legendary crew and the Pirate King himself.

"Zoro! Sanji! Where is the cake!?" The Pirate King demanded and got beaten immediately by the
navigator who was still furious that she had to track Luffy down and drag him to his own nakamas'
wedding because the idiot didn't have the concept of time.

Usopp walked to the couple and handed them two boxes that contained their wedding rings.

Chopper was tugging both the swordsman and the cook's shirts, "Don't kill each other tomorrow,
okay?"

Zoro looked at Sanji. They both shared secret laughter with each other.
79.

“You look decent with stubble, you know," said Sanji as he was methodically stropping the razor
on the leather hooked to the bathroom's wall. Zoro sat on the chair with his eye closed and
patiently waiting to get his face shaved. Today was the day.

“I don’t want to bother taking care of it. It’s annoying."

“It doesn't actually take much time," Sanji pointed out.

“You spend hours trimming your goatee.”

“Unlike someone I have the unfortunate of knowing, I'm not a slob and I represent this
establishment.”

“You are marrying the slob,” Zoro smirked, "today."

Sanji sprayed the shaving foam into the swordsman's mouth in retaliation. "Oops. Don't worry, it's
organic!"

Zoro spat it back on the cook's face almost instantly. "Take it. Still, organic."

Sanji angrily wiped his face with a clean towel and turned to glare back at the swordsman. "If this
isn't my favorite straight razor with an ivory handle, I'll slit your throat with it."

"Save your energy, curly. So when you lose to me, you could say you gave your best," Zoro's
condescending mockery almost made Sanji want to say screw the wedding and strangle him with
the strop.

"Since Little Garden, think," Zoro casually mentioned."Our matches have always been
interrupted."

Sanji recalled the humid climate of the prehistoric forest, the slain dinosaurs and the two teenagers
on their very first fight. "Quiet and let me work. You are going down in defeat today, then at least
you will have a nice look."

The place was the coastline of Marimo Island's cliffed coast. Zoro discovered it by accident and
had made use of it during the first few years until the island's inhabitants decided to build a proper
stadium for him. During the day, the seawater fell to its low tide, revealing the sandy seashore, a
natural battle ring, that would remain until sunset when the water would be rising again.

The plan was simple.

Their friends would be waiting on the Sunny in the open water. Sanji and Zoro would go the
seashore to battle until one of them could put their ring on the other's ring finger before the place
was flooded, then get back to the Sunny to let Luffy officiate the marriage, attend the night party,
cut the cake and celebrate their marital union.

Chopper sat on Franky's shoulder, cradling a first-aid kit in his hand and watching Sanji and Zoro
wading into the shallow water to the beach.

"This is not what I read in the books," grumbled the reindeer. Robin sprouted up her hand from
Franky's back and patted the reindeer in distress.

Brook played battle-theme music with his violin to get everyone pumped up. Robin politely but
firmly asked him to change his song into something more relaxing.

Luffy had many questions. "Why I don't get to fight with them? It looks fun! Why we have to wait
so long for the cake?"

"You will do what I tell you to Luffy!" Nami pinched her captain's cheek. Usopp nervously tapped
her shoulder. "Why I'm seeing many ships coming in this direction?"

Nami was about to get binoculars from Usopp's hand to look for the ships when she heard the
earth-crackling sound of the cliff's rocks tumbling downhill to the sea. The fight had already begun.

80.

They were changing the landscape of the island.

Sanji found his movements on land got confined by the piles of rocks and boulders Zoro kept
cutting off from the cliff. Every swing from his swords, big chunks of rocks slid off, some were
turned into small pieces of debris by Sanji's kicks. They didn't hold back. It would be foolish to do.

It would also be foolish of Zoro to think he could corner the man who could fly.

Zoro sidestepped Sanji's diving attack by a hair's breadth. The swordsman looked back to the
ground he just stood a few minutes ago; it had become a pool of molten glass. That's right. The
energy released from the cook's Hell Memories alone was enough to melt rocks and sand
into glass.

Zoro's swords were singing in bloodthirsty delight. The cook took a leisurely drag of his cigarette,
watching the swords turn black. "Will the fancy black swords have new fancy moves? I'm starting
to get bored, you know."

Zoro looked up at the glorious man standing in the sky above his head and out of his reach.

"I'll chop you down," Zoro promised. I'll take you down from the heavens and make you mine.

When they were fighting, the rings and everything else had been forgotten. The sun was setting
and the tide was rising. Zoro had put his two of his swords on the tallest rock to avoid the seawater
about an hour ago. He kept Wado tied to his sash and fought with his fists. Sanji also didn't have
enough strength left on his body to keep himself afloat or on fire. He was fighting but with his feet.
Dodge, parry, and counter Zoro's attacks.

Their bodies were bloody, bruised and soaking in sweat. The seawater level was rising to their legs.
Their movements had been hindered by its mass, not to say that their feet were blue and wrinkly.
This fight was drawing to a close.

Sanji felt his pants' pocket for the ring box. Thank his tight pants, it was still there. "Anything you
want me to know before getting defeated, shitty swordsman?"

Zoro snorted. He, too, pulled out the ring box from his haramaki, and opened it for Sanji to see for
the first time. The ring was a plain gold band of the same color of the earrings. Sanji was reminded
again that Zoro had not worn any earrings anymore. The swordsman's eyes followed the cook's
lingering gaze and touched his own left ear, looking self-conscious and nervous.

"I don't remember why I decided to get my ear pierced, or how I got the earrings, or why it'd gotta
be three. Maybe it was my lucky number or a forecast of my destiny." Zoro shrugged. The cyclical
destiny was the best description of Zoro's life. As if he was destined to fight in endless battles until
he died. Defeated. Overcome. Triumph. Until his last breath. "Nothing stays. Victories come and
go. By the end of the day, I'm still a man who has got nothing. I have given up on my wealth and
thrown away memorable trinkets like they have no worth just to distance myself from
attachments." He was a teen who courted death for the glory and a young man who was ready to
die for his friends. A dead man walking.

"The earrings were the last possession of this old life of mine," Zoro smiled, "I've traded it for a
final chance. To win my last victory and keep him with me until the day I draw my last breath.
You."

Today, Roronoa Zoro was finally free from the burden of fate. After today, he would keep on
fighting, and one day he would be surpassed by a new wave of swordsmen. None of those fights
would matter to his pride nor his joy. Because Sanji was Zoro's last victory.

Sanji listened. Appreciated. He still didn't know what he'd done to deserve Zoro. The man before
him was larger than life and he was standing there, with his heart bare and his ring box open,
determined to keep loving him.

He had to respond in kind and stop being a coward. The cook opened his own box and looked at
the ring of the same design, gold but paler.

"It is made from a broken piece of the fake explosive bracelets," Sanji answered the question Zoro
asked days ago. "It's an analogy of my life. I will always hate this weak part of me that has been
imprisoned in my childhood nightmare. Powerless. Bad decisions." He closed his eyes, trying to
shake away the painful flashbacks. "I couldn't bear the sight of it but I couldn't just leave it behind.
I've kept it hidden in the drawer."

Sanji remembered him picking up the broken piece of the bracelets and stuffed it in his pocket and
later hid it in his drawer, locked away in the hope that he could completely forget its existence. "I
never want to see it again," he confessed. "But because of you, I realized that I could turn it into
something pretty. And if it is on your finger, I'd gladly look at it every day for the rest of my life."

They looked at each other with the same determined look.

Zoro unsheathed Wado. Sanji stood in surprise; the wind from the white sword's slash was too
gentle to cut his flesh, yet too powerful, it split the waters apart. While the sea has been parted,
Sanji saw the path. He began to run toward Zoro, flame lighting on his legs. Both of them broke
into a smile.

"Give your all to me, Sanji!"

“Eat dust, Zoro!"

 Chapter 8
Chapter Notes

Hey, the final chapter is here! Special thanks to the wonderful 'Amber3' who
proofread this chapter! And everyone, thank you so much for your kind support. I've
had great fun writing this fic and I hope that it entertains you as well!

P.S. I just realized today was Zeff's birthday. What's a good time to update the final
chapter :D

See the end of the chapter for more notes

81.

The moment that Sanji's heel crashed with Wado, the sea simultaneously closed its path. The
strong tide had swept them under the waves, dragging them out into the open water. Sanji could
feel his body being crushed by the water pressure as he descended beneath the surface. He quickly
held his breath, and started kicking his legs to keep himself from sinking even further. He winced
from the intense spikes of pain surging through his entire body. This was worse than Sanji
anticipated. The hits he took must have broken one or probably both of his legs. Whenever Sanji
got heated up from a good fight, he tended to not notice small details. Those small things were
demanding his attention now.

Sanji tried his best to slow down his heartbeats and stay vertically without moving his injured legs
too much. First things first, information. He had no idea how deep they were under the sea. The
last flickering ray of sunlight was long gone; the underwater was pitch black as the abyss.

Luckily, he had no need to go search for the marimo. His observation Haki quickly picked up
Zoro's signature aura coming toward him. It seemed the waves hadn't knocked the bastard out yet.
Also, it was a miracle of its own that the lost child was able to find Sanji in the dark. But, Sanji had
no time to spare pondering on some trivia. It could wait for later when his life was not under
threats of drowning or losing a fight.

Sanji could literally smell Zoro's blood in the water when the swordsman had swum closer -the
marimo was bleeding. It seemed the injuries that they had inflicted on each other early on starting
to inconveniently yield their fruits. The swordsman stopped in front of the cook. They exchanged
looks, silently communicating their assessment of the current predicament. Both knew that their
bodies had reached their limits and were clinging onto their last ounce of consciousness. Any
sensible person would call it a draw and use their preserved energy to save their ass first. If they
didn't swim back to the surface right now, it was likely that they would never escape the deadly
confinement of the sea alive.

But, it would mean that their match would end in a draw.

Sanji looked at the swordsman and couldn't suppress his grin. He, indeed, did choose the right
person to marry. Zoro had already moved to take a fighting stance, his hand clenched into a fist,
ready to take a swing at Sanji. He was aiming for a knockout.

Asphyxia could be taking them at any moment. But Sanji supposed they were two idiots who cared
about the fight more than suffocation. Fighting under the water was never part of the original plan.

It was now.

As if death could stop me from beating the hell out of you!

The water was supposed to reduce the intensity and speed of Zoro's strikes, but no. The laws of
physics never applied to him. His attack was as swift as it was deadly. If he took that hit, it would
be over for him. Sanji cursed internally. Still, if that mosshead really thought that Sanji couldn't
dodge that attack, Sanji would take that as an insult to his acrobatic ability, and kill him later. Even
that, it was close. Sanji managed to evade the punch by the skin of his teeth. He had no time to
celebrate. Again, he had put another strain on his body. Even in this weightless chamber of the sea,
his legs felt as heavy as lead.

Zoro silently read the cook's subtle anxiety. That was something he could do even with his eye
closed. The cook's fighting style was engraved in his heart. He must not let the man catch his
breath. Zoro wasted no time in delivering the next blow. This is the end game. The swordsman
thought.

Sanji didn't have any luck with Zoro's next attack and was forced to block it with one of his legs.
He could practically hear the sound of his poor femur shattering.

Its sacrifice wouldn't be in vain.

I know your moves like the back of my hand too, idiot.

Sanji had been waiting for this moment. When a beast hunted, its guard was naturally down. The
moment Zoro's concentration was on attacking, the rest of his body was left defenseless. Sanji had
already put all of his strength into his good leg, even clad it in armament Haki, swung it forward
and-

Kicked Zoro, the man who would soon be his husband, in the nuts.

He watched as Zoro's face rapidly turning blue, his eye rolling back into the head, and trails of air
bubbles escaping from the corners of his mouth. Yup. Sanji was pretty sure that his soon-to-be
husband was dead. But at the moment, Sanji couldn't care less. He didn't give a damn that he
played dirty and hit, literally and figuratively, below the belt.

Finally, finally. Finally! His mind screamed, rejoicing his hard-won victory.

Finally, he had knocked the beast out cold!

Sanji had waited for a few seconds, watching Zoro's body slowly descending to the bottom of the
ocean, just to be extra sure that he was really unconscious before diving to retrieve his boyfriend.
While swimming, he pulled out the ring from his trouser pocket. Just one more thing that he had to
do and he would fully be the real winner. Zoro was probably going to kill him when he woke up
but Sanji would be totally fine if marimo honored their promise, and did it while wearing a skirt.

Just as Sanji was about to grab the swordsman's left hand, Sanji's instinct suddenly went haywire.
Turn back! Turn back! It screamed.

Zoro's eye that had been closed a moment ago shot open. The silver orb glowing in the dark eerily
resembled the eye of a monster of the deep. It was too late for him to turn back but he tried
anyway, kicking his legs in a futile attempt to put some distance between them. To his horror, his
exhausted legs had to take this moment to fucking cramp, leaving him completely vulnerable to
Zoro's assault.

Why the hell aren't you down yet?! Sanji wanted to scream and almost gasped when he actually
saw the man's unfocused eye. It was unmistakable.

Zoro was still unconscious!

The swordsman was still lost to the world yet his body had already awakened and continued the
fight in its owner's stead. Sanji didn't know why he bothered to be surprised that Zoro would
continue to fight on his pure instinct. How could he expect any less from a person who simply
refused to die?

Persistent, marimo.

The swordsman's hand reached out towards the cook whose legs were still paralyzed. The parts of
Sanji's body that were still functioning were his hands.

A cook's most valuable asset.

Maybe today was going to be the day that he had to break his own code to win. Sanji thought as he
raised both of his hands up, ready to shield himself from anything Zoro was going to give to him.
Surprisingly, he wasn't as disturbed by the idea of using his hands as he thought he would be. It
didn't mean that Sanji wouldn't be pissed and kill Zoro later for making him injure his hands.

His heart was prepared to give his everything to honor the swordsman's fighting spirit.

Because Zoro was more valuable to him.

Than his hands.

Than his life.

But the punch never landed.

Instead of breaking Sanji's hands, Zoro had closed the gap between them. And sealed their lips with
a kiss.

Sanji's eyelids fluttered in shock, then, in horror.

The fucking bastard- that sonofabitch had stolen Sanji's last portion of air!

The loss of air immediately showed its effects and his frantic struggle to get away from the
inevitable outcome further accelerated the process of suffocation. Sanji's eyes were getting heavy,
his vision becoming blurry. One by one, his senses started to abandon him.

In his last memories before blacking out, he remembered reaching out for Zoro's hand. He felt his
ring being taken away and he remembered being panicked. Where did it go? He needed his ring, it
was for his husband. Where was his husband? No, he didn't have a husband yet. They still need to
put the rin-
Something was put on his finger but Sanji's brain refused to make sense of anything, anymore.

Oblivion finally took him.

82.

Sanji's sense of time was diluted.

After he had regained part of his mind from unconsciousness, all he knew was that he was floating
on the sea with his arm around Zoro's shoulder. He had no idea how long time had passed. He was
disoriented and cold. His lips couldn't stop quivering whenever the wind blew. Trying to think in
this situation was almost impossible; thinking made his head hurt, so Sanji stopped.

Later, he would learn (from a grumpy reindeer doctor) that his temporary dumbfoundedness was
the result of his overworked self-preservation shutting down his other physical functions to keep
his badly beaten body from dying of hypothermia. His survival instinct probably disregarded high
intelligence as an essential function - that would explain why while he was floating like a clump of
seaweed, Sanji couldn't form any coherent thoughts. He couldn't even think to check on the man
beside him to see whether he was alive. Heck, he couldn't even speak. His body, however, deemed
eyesight important enough to let it operate. A grave mistake. Because when the searchlight of the
lion figurehead landed on them, its brightness almost blinded Sanji. He cried out of pain.

And a pruney hand was immediately on his head, rubbing his temple gently. Somehow, it calmed
him down. Sanji kept his eyes closed and leaned into the soothing touch.

Everything after that happened in a blur.

When he reopened his eyes, Sanji found himself lying down on the Sunny's green lawn, bandaged
and wrapped in dry blankets. He slowly sat up and tried to blink away the remaining slugginess.
Most of his senses hadn't completely returned yet. Some of his friends saw him moving and were
immediately by his side, bombarding him with questions regarding his wellbeing but Sanji's ears
were still ringing. So, he decided to offer them a weak reassuring smile. He was still confused
about what had happened after he lost consciousness. Also, he was cold. He must have whimpered
that out loud because one of his friends - Usopp??- saying something about 'go get him some hot
water bottles'. He nodded numbly and while waiting for the hot water bottle, kept warming his own
hands. His fingers brushed against something that wasn't there before and Sanji looked up.

Whatever still clouded Sanji's mind was lifted by the glint of the golden band on his ring finger.

He looked around in all directions, there, he found him.

Sitting across the lawn, Zoro had his back facing Sanji while Chopper was patching up his injuries.
The sight of the swordsman's wounds had Sanji consciously touch his legs. One of them got
fractured but Chopper already put a splint on it; the other one seemed to be fine.

Ignoring his friends' protests, he stood up and started limping towards Zoro. The commotion had
alerted the man he was trying to go back to.

He stopped before the man, who had got up from the floor to meet him. Their eyes finally met
again after the momentary deadness that their minds had forgotten and were unable to sense the
one they loved. It felt like a torturing eternity. There was no cloudiness in Zoro's eye anymore. Just
silver and clear as fine steel. Sanji's chest felt like it was about to burst with feeling.

Instead, he said dryly,

"You fucking brute, you cracked my leg."

Zoro stared him down.

"You kicked me in the nuts."

They looked at each other before bursting into laughter.

Their crewmates let them have a private moment for a few seconds before clearing their throats to
get their attention.

"Don't want to interrupt your masochistic displays of love, but I think it's about time to let the
others know," Nami informed the fiances.

"Who?" Zoro furrowed his brows.

Brook chuckled. "You must have been too lost in each other's eyes to not notice them. You two
still have eyes after all!"

Sanji's face reddened.

"No, Brook! Unlike this mosshead, I wasn't los-"

"Sanji-kun, no lies on your wedding day, please."

Sanji closed his mouth obediently but kept glaring at the mosshead traitor who snickered at him.

Luffy was impatient. The captain was jumping up and down beside the handrail like a kid waiting
for his parents to come to watch some cartoons with him.

"What're you two waiting for?! Zoro! Sanji! Come and see this!"

The cook and the swordsman exchanged looks and sighed. Both started dragging their bodies to
the handrail to see what that excited their captain so much.

They couldn't believe their eyes.

Vessels of every size, from humble fishing boats to ginormous galleon ships of pirates, had
gathered around the bay as far as their eyes could see and beyond. Their yellow lamps lighted up
the sea, mirrored by the stars on the sky.

The crew had come to stand beside them. Despite many the ships in the water which normally
would ensure chaos, the sea was quiet as if the people on board were waiting for something to
happen.

"What is this?" Sanji whispered.

"They've come to witness," Robin answered with a smile.

"Yeah, I almost got a heart attack when I first saw thousands of ships coming to our way," Usopp
added. "But they are our allies -or, so I pray that they are allies."

"I was so disappointed. I thought I could have some fun. Waiting was boring! What took you guys
so long, Zoro? I'm hungry, Sanji!"

"Don't you dare think about fighting!" Chopper screeched, still clutching onto his first-aid kit like
he expected all hell to break loose at any moment. "These two were enough to give me a heart
attack!"

"Sorry man, but the cook and I aren't gonna fight anymore."

"Yup. Just for today."

Like good right-hand and left-hand men, Zoro and Sanji ignored their captain's petulant tantrum
and went straight to comfort their ship doctor. A reindeer in distress was a no-no.

"I AM HUNGRY!" Luffy announced louder. Again, his plight was dismissed.

"I'm hungry too, bro. Shaddap!" Franky had pushed Luffy aside. The shipwright handed something
to Sanji and Zoro. It was a flintlock pistol about the size of Sanji's arm. "Finding a single gun on
this ship was super hard. Anyway, let's let them know so we can head back to the port for the main
event!!"

"You know this sea tradition right, cook-san?" Robin asked. Sanji nodded and took the firearm
from Franky. It had been ages since he held a gun.

Everyone had stepped back except Zoro who put his hand on Sanji's back. "Do you know how to
fire a gun, shitty fiance?"

"You, with your horrible sense of direction, wouldn’t be able to find the trigger," Sanji retorted
with a grin, before pointing the gun at the sky, firing the single bullet out to the sea. "I'm a pirate."

The quiet sea had suddenly erupted in the sounds of gun salutes. Cannonballs flying and firework
exploding in the night sky, signaling the triumphant end of the long wait. Zoro gave him his rare
genuine smile and Sanji was hit with the whirlwind of joy. The wedding was about to start.

"Are you happy?"

"Yes, I am," Zoro answered before adding. "I won."

The cook felt like the world had stopped spinning. He heard their crewmates' collective gasp and
something like, "crap." But nothing. Nothing mattered.

Zoro watched in confusion as Sanji's face morphed into a redface demon, with fangs and all.

"The fuck. I don't think so!"

83.

What happened after that could simply be summed up as 'all hell breaks loose'.
"How could you know that?! You were fucking unconscious!" Zoro shouted from his lungs. Poor
tired Chopper had to transform into his heavy point to hold the angry swordsman from jumping at
the sneering cook who had been restrained by a scared Usopp.

"It's me who won!" Sanji spat.

"Why you... stubborn cook! I fucking saved your ass from drowning!"

"You have the nerve to claim that you saved me?! You STOLE my air!"

"You KICKED me in the nuts!"

"Why are you so petty about being kicked in the nuts?! Get over it!"

"Be a man and wear a dress, fucking shit cook!"

"You were knocked out first, you LOST!"

"The deal was who put the ring on the other's finger first, you stupid prince of Moronica!"

"You don't have proof! And don't call me a prince! Before my eyes got blurry, because you
stole my air, I knew that I put the ring on you first!"

"You don't have proof either!"

"That's because you were fucking unconscious, you third-rate moss-for-brain swordsman!"

Usopp could clearly feel the cook's body heating up. Fuck, he didn't sign up for this just to die
tonight. Abort. Abort. He desperately mouthed to Franky for help. The shipwright made it just in
time. Franky put his body between the fiances to prevent them from attacking each other.

"Incredible," Robin calmly narrated the untitled documentary of beasts in their habitat from her
chair. "It seems their bodies kept fighting on their own but because they both had lost
consciousness, none of them had evidence on who first put the ring on whom."

"Oi, Nico Robin, lend us some hands, will you!" Franky yelled.

"They haven’t even wed yet and already are fighting like an old married couple, yohohoho!" Brook
said, using his soul power to put out the fire that Sanji's burning foot accidentally set.

"Aren't they always?" Nami sighed. If deities existed, this idiot of a couple must be gods' favorite
rom-com channel. "Captain, your nakama are going to kill each other before exchanging their
vows."

Luffy was munching on something when he was addressed. He blinked dumbly at Nami. "So,
what? They are having fun."

Nami gave Luffy her saccharine smile, one that promised mercilessness. His adam's apple was
bobbing in trepidation, preparing himself to get beaten up.

What Nami did, however, made the Pirate King wish she had rather beaten him to death.

"If they die, they will not be able to get married. And, no wedding-" the navigator stressed, "means
no wedding cake."

"Aaaaaaah! Scary! You two stop fighting now! Gomu Gomu no--"
Traditionally, some couples may choose to spend time apart the night before the wedding to honor
the sacred ritual of love and marriage. Then, there were Sanji and Zoro who had been forcibly
detained in different rooms for a very stupid reason, that they acted more like rabid dogs than a
pair of grooms.

Even though they were clearly exhausted, their strength was still that of monsters and it took Luffy
to knock them out. Their bodies were, then, dragged to their designated room by their groomsmen -
Zoro to the sickbay and Sanji to the boys' room. All could only hope that these idiots would cool
down their heads and get dressed once they recovered from concussions that Luffy gave them.

84.

Sanji woke up with a swollen bump on his forehead and a very, very bad mood. From there, it
steadily went downhill as his screwed-up legs gave out while he tried to put on his trousers. Those
bastards of best men had knowingly made themselves scarce. Sanji silently seethed. However, after
resting his legs a few minutes, he could stand up again. Sanji almost heaved out a sigh of relief. It
would be the biggest humiliation of the century if he had to give his vows while supporting his
body with a crutch.

Sanji examined himself in a mirror. His wedding outfit had a similar design to the one he used to
wear, but black. Because he was Blackleg, and he looked stunning in black. Anyway, his tie
remained white and was tightened with a green metal piece. He had picked out the jewelry himself.
It had the exact same shade as Zoro's stupid green hair. Sadly, now it reminded him of that
infuriating fool so much, that he wanted to punch the mirror. The suit jacket also hid most of his
bandages and with proper makeup, the visible bruises and cuts on his face would be pretty much
covered up. Still, the cosmetics would not miraculously make Sanji look glowing. Seriously, he
was fucking fresh from the fight. There would be no way that the aftermath of fighting Roronoa
Zoro would be anything but naughty. Marimo and his barbarity. His false claim.

Sanji consoled himself that at least, the most presentable one out of the two grooms would be him.
And after the wedding was over, Sanji would do everything in his might, including but not limited
to kicking Zoro's junk again, to make sure that the swordsman would admit that he lost to him!

Sanji was busy furiously combing his hair when the door to the boys' room creaked open and his
best men walked inside. Keyword. Best men.

Sanji's already sour mood turned acidic. "Where are my groomsmaids?"

"They are with Zoro," Usopp answered and upon seeing the cook's devil face, wisely decided to
stand behind Brook.

"Why are my beautiful flowers with that caveman? At least, one of them should be with me. Why I
have ended up with stinky men!" Demanded the groom.

"Sanji-san, you are the one who is soaking in your own sweat and blood," Brook pointed out
delicately, with a cup of tea in his hand. Usopp had no idea how the skeleton produced a cup of tea
from thin air, or why was he so calm while courting death, but he was certain about one thing, that
Brook was an idiot. Hiding behind him was a grave mistake. For increasing his chance of survival,
Usopp quickly changed his choice of bunkers to Franky.

Franky also had no sense of appropriateness and made a stupid comment about Sanji's frowning
face.

"If you keep frowning, those wrinkles are going to be permanent, bro."

Why? Why you had to open your bloody mouth?

Usopp realized two things. One was that he was stuck in the room with a walking explosive of a
groom who could literally combust and two useless best men who acted as efficiently as gasoline
and a lighter. Had no one ever educated these bastards not to provoke a bridezilla? Even though
this one was wearing a suit.

"Shut up, you pervert cyborg!" Sanji hissed.

Usopp hated his life. No. He loved his life. He just hated to be brave and the voice of reason in a
life-threatening situation. Was this event he was attending still a ceremony of love?

"You remember the wedding reception schedule, right?"

"Maybe I would if my captain hadn't given me a concussion." Yup, the bridezilla was still pissed.

"Luffy and Zoro are supposed to be waiting at the altar. You know your own captain and your first
mate, right? We need all the brains and conscience we could get to make sure that they make it to
the altar. Hence, Nami, Robin and Chopper. We have gone through all this before." Usopp
squeaked out the briefing. "You agreed."

Sanji tsked. Oh right, he remembered now. The girls had to accompany Luffy to the altar and make
sure that he behaved and didn't forget his role. There were too many distractions on the way, like
food and wedding cake. Sanji knew he would be the best suitable groom to wait at the altar to keep
the glutton on the leash. But then Franky had to butt in the discussion and insisted that he had
something relating to the plan of their grand exit ceremony to show to Sanji personally. So, it was
decided that Zoro was the one to go to the altar first.

Still annoyed and dissatisfied, the cook angrily sprayed himself with cologne before slamming the
emptied glass bottle on the dressing table, breaking it into pieces. Both the bottle and the table.
"Do I still stink, Brook?"

"No! Not at all! You smell divine!" Brook sputtered a reply, teeth chattering in fear. Even the jolly
skeleton knew when to stop messing around to preserve his life.

"Good." Sanji stood up before addressing the shipwright in no-nonsense tones.

"If your surprise is something stupid, I'll kill you, shithead."

"It's super awesome, it'll cheer you up!" Franky met the threat with a confident grin.

85.

The wedding ceremony was held in the town's market square. Trees on both sides of the street were
decorated with lights and houses had adorned their balconies with blue delphinium and green
wisteria flowers. Tables and chairs were set on every alley and street which were all occupied by
the wedding guests who had been gorging themselves on food and drink like there was no
tomorrow. The Baratie's team led by Carne and Patty had already opened their grazing and craving
stations. All of the restaurants and bars in town were also open to help relieve burdens of the
Baratie's catering teams. The staff tirelessly kept the buffet tables refilled and making sure that rum
never ran dry. It was a wise decision to move the dinner party forward. Pirates. Knowing their
nature, these outlaws couldn't sit still for a minute before causing trouble. Food and good rum was
always the chef's best bet to keep these violent drunkards content and jolly. The pirates laughed,
cheered and gave silly toasts, already forgotten their original intent for being here. They didn't
even recognize that the Pirate King and one of the grooms escorted by his entourage had arrived.

The first thing Zoro noticed when he entered the market square was the wedding cake. It was huge.

But it had 7 tiers. His frown deepened.

Luffy, on the other hand, was drooling like a leaking tap. The ginormous wedding cake, the endless
buffet lines, barrels and barrels of booze. It was too much for the man's heart. Zoro tried his best to
avoid getting Luffy's saliva on his white jacket. Nami and Robin were deliberately flanking Luffy
and him, with Chopper in his walk point following behind them. Did they really think he could get
lost, walking in a straight line? Fucking ridiculous.

Their distrust of his sense of direction did absolutely nothing to help lighten Zoro's mood. The
greenhead groom stood sulkily at the altar, crossing his arms and ignoring Luffy's attempt to run
away. He didn't offer to help the groomsmaids catch him. He didn't want to do anything. He didn't
have to, anyway. Nami had it under her control.

The witch put her hands on their captain's neck and squeezed.

"No, you don't."

Luffy choked and cried out for Zoro's help. Zoro ignored him because Luffy fucking beat him
earlier on. He deserved it.

Some of the pirates raised their tankards and asked Zoro to join their table. Zoro's ears perked up.
He was still mad, mind you. But the stunning sight of the beer fountain was otherworldly. Besides,
Zoro deserved to have a few drinks. Heck, he deserved all the booze for marrying that prissy
bastard who not only cheated but kept him waiting. How long did it take for that fancy-pants to
finish dressing up? Screw him, Zoro was going to get drunk.

"No, you don't."

Hands sprouted up from the ground and clutched onto both of his legs, Zoro turned to look at
Robin in shock.

"I don't have to read your mind to know what you are about to do, Zoro."

"You cannot read minds.” Zoro attempted to reassure himself because Robin didn't need any more
terrifying power to add in her arsenal. The archaeologist gave him her menacing smile. "Don't give
me a reason to. Behave."

"Come on!" Groaned the swordsman. "What I'm supposed to do while waiting for the cook to
show up?"

"You could conversate with your best women," Nami gave him a smug look.
Zoro scoffed. "Usopp and Franky would have let me have a few glasses. Hell, they would have
joined me."

"Is this how you thank your makeup artist?" Nami's pout would make stupid men fall for her. Zoro
never fell for such a cheap trick. Also, Luffy's cheeks were still pinched between her finger and
thumb. This woman was a monster.

"I didn't ask for it, and you will charge me for your service anyway."

"I'd prefer not to let you look like a zombie on your best day. I'll bill Sanji-kun later." Nami winked
before turning to glare at her captain. "Now, Luffy. Have you memorized the script Robin wrote
for you?"

"I ate the script. Because you didn't let me eat, Nami! I'm hungry!"

Nami and Robin's faces became thunderous. Perhaps, one of Luffy's greatest strengths was his
honesty. But, sometimes, strength and weakness were one.

Zoro took some strategical steps away from his captain.

Zoro planned to seize this opportunity to get himself a drink but there was Chopper, sitting quietly
on the front-row seats. Thinking about it, the reindeer had been too quiet since they disembarked.

"What's up, Chopper?" Asked Zoro.

"I'm just a bit sleepy." The reindeer replied tiredly, rubbing his eyes. "I never thought that being a
groomsman would be so demanding."

That actually made Zoro feel guilty. Chopper really did work hard.

"Hey, I can go pick something for you to eat." He offered.

"No, it's fine. I don't want-"

"Ahoaer aanaed au ae a awer oi or au eddin (Chopper wanted to be a flower boy for your
wedding)!" Luffy interrupted. His words came out muffled as his lips had been stretched by an
angry Nami.

Chopper blushed.

"What's a flower boy?" asked Zoro.

"A person with a ceremonial duty of carrying a basket of flowers and strewing flower petals."
Nami started to feel pity for Sanji-kun. Really, this caveman had zero knowledge about weddings.

Zoro raised his eyebrows.

"Why didn't you tell me you wanted a bundle of flowers?"

Chopper's blush darkened. "I'm a grown-up! I don't-"

Zoro was already gone before he could finish his sentence.

He looked around. There were flower vases but Zoro was pretty sure the perfectionist cook would
notice if a single petal was missing from its position. Even there were hundreds of them. So, he
went to the banquets of dessert, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. He picked some candy floss,
wrapped their sticks in pink napkins before fastening them with red licorice laces.

Zoro returned to the altar and gave his handmade candy bouquet to the reindeer. Chopper seemed
to have stopped functioning. To be honest, Chopper's lack of reaction made Zoro a bit nervous.
Well, he was no shitty cook.

Zoro coughed into his fist to hide his embarrassment. "Here is a bouquet, better than flowers. It's
edible. You can hold it and eat it later."

Zoro didn't expect Chopper would turn into his heavy point and gave him a bone-crushing hug.
The rib bones that the cook didn't manage to break must have been broken by the time Chopper let
go of him.

Luffy accused Zoro of favoritism and started chasing Chopper around the square trying to steal his
bouquet.

Nami and Robin gave Zoro a thoughtful look.

"What?"

"Wow, you really are good with kids now. Preparing for having children of your own?" Nami
teased, watching in amusement as Zoro's face colored.

"Don't say something that stupid, witch! The cook doesn't even want a kid!"

"So, just cook-san? You haven't denied that you want a kid."

"Robin, don't bully the groom. But let’s be honest, how many kids do you two want?"

"How the hell you two are my best women... you are the worst!"

The groomsmaids snickered.

It never ceased to be fun, ruffling the swordsman's feathers, thought the women. Their Zoro wasn't
a stoic man when they first sailed together. They sometimes missed his carefree smile but respected
his decision. It was always such a sad but necessary development that he chose to conceal his
vulnerabilities, hiding behind the tough-guy facade, just so he could protect them.

But tonight, they wouldn't allow him to be anything but true to himself.

Nami nodded at Robin deciding for now, that they were satisfied with bullying him and moved on
to the next important topic.

"Anyway, don't you think Sanji-kun's group is a bit late?"

"Maybe they are lost," Zoro said while picking his nose. Nami gave him a withering look,
refraining herself from smacking him. It was unfortunate that she hadn't taken the makeup kit with
her. He would look bad in the portrait photos if she gave him freshly bruises now.

"In the meantime, we should gather the people who are scheduled to give a toast. When Sanji's
group arrives, we can start the ceremony right away," Robin suggested. Nami nodded and went to
ask the nearby waiter.

"Is Zeff-san ready?"

The waiter, then, went to ask a nearby chef who proceeded to ask the cook next to him. No one had
seen Zeff since the wedding party started. In a few minutes, all top-ranked chefs and some of the
helpful but slightly drunk guests were searching the whole town, looking for the missing father of
one of the grooms.

All hearts were suddenly gripped by the tingling sense of foreboding.

And, something was flying towards the market square.

No, it was not the shitty cook pulling a fancy walk-down-on-the-aisle.

They were cannonballs.

86.

Meanwhile on the other side of the island. Sanji felt like he owned Franky and the other
groomsmen an apology for kicking their asses. But to be fair, they should have told him before
leaving the port without explaining to him where the hell they were going.

This part of the island hadn't yet been populated. Forests still covered the soil and the beach was
sandy white. Anchored to the shore all by herself, idly drifting beneath the starlit night was a little
caravel with three lateen-rigged sails painted in blue. Sanji hadn't got to know her yet but he
already knew. She was stunning.

"This is my wedding gift. In fact, everyone's gifts have been stored inside her treasure chamber
while you were fighting Zoro at the bay." Franky announced proudly.

"We wanted to show her to both of you but because of your fight schedule Franky-san had to
improvise and introduced her to you first," Brook explained to him.

"Because Zoro knows shit all about sailing. It would be you who maneuvers her anyway." Usopp
said.

Sanji didn't know what to say to his best men who had gone out of their way to surprise him. Don't
cry. Don't cry. Don't cry. His makeup would get messed up!

Sanji took a deep breath.

"What's her name, Franky?"

"Why don’t you name her?" Franky urged, "she is supposed to be your and Zoro's honeymoon
vessel!"

Sanji laughed but shook his head. Franky didn't get the chance to name Thousand Sunny. This time
would be different.

"I want my shipwright to name our ship."

Franky's grin reached from ear to ear.

"I've put much thought into it, something that represents both of you." The shipwright said
enthusiastically like a kid, "I almost decided on 'Swirly Lost' but the other guys said it sounded like
a bad omen."

Brook and Usopp nodded.

"It still sounds like a bad omen." Sanji's genuine smile became strained. "Tell me you
reconsidered."

"How about..."

Sanji looked at the ship again, thinking of the name that Franky suggested for her before smiling.
"You have a good taste, Franky."

"Super!" Franky posed. "Now, let's go get you married! So we can send you off. Can't wait to see
my beautiful ship taking my super pals on their honeymoon!"

"The sky is clear and the wind is blowing! It's almost like the gods have given you good weather
tonight!" Usopp cheered.

Usopp also spoke too soon.

As they got closer to the port, they saw a new problem.

Navy Battalions had surrounded the bay, firing cannonballs at the island.

The bells were ringing, not the ones that celebrated at the conclusion of the wedding.

It was the bells of war.

87.

Every marine Zoro had come across during his whole pirate career was here in full force. Since the
battle erupted, their crew had split up, with their rubber captain swinging around, looking for any
interesting tussles to join.

"Zoro-san! Congratulations on your wedding! But we are here to arrest all of you!" Tashigi
attacked him with her sword.

"I didn't invite you!" He shouted back, blocking her attack with Wado. He could practically feel his
wounds beneath his uncomfortable tight suit reopen. Shit. His body had been strained badly. He
felt like his hands were made of lead, heavy and slow. He barely dodged an ambush from
Helmeppo. Well, Helmeppo was a vice admiral now - he was strong- but Zoro shouldn't have a
problem at dealing with vice admirals. His injuries were not a good excuse. But if he accidentally
got arrested, that would be the cook's fucking fault.

Tashigi's squad, the G5, were fighting the other pirates not far from them. When their eyes spot the
greenhead swordsman, they lit up.

"Where is our Sanji-aniki? We missed him!" They yelled. Zoro turned to bare his teeth at them. "I
didn't invite you either!"
"Oh, I did." Luffy casually revealed. He was fighting Coby and Smoker at the same time.

"You are one of the fucking mad lads." Smoker shook his head. Even the authority figure was done
with Luffy's shit.

"Thank you for coming to our headquarters to invite us, Luffy-san! Congratulations on your
wedding, Zoro-san!" Beamed Coby, still full of sunshine and kind-hearted, even if he was now the
youngest admiral in the history of the navy.

"..."

Zoro was speechless.

He didn't even know what to feel.

Did his fucking captain deliberately invite a whole army of marines to wreck his wedding?

"The more the merrier!" Luffy laughed.

Of course.

Zoro watched as one of the cannonballs destroyed the bouquets of flowers on the altar, knowing
that the cook spent a whole month alone on finalizing their designs. Now they were smashed and
stomped on. Those things also probably cost the cook a huge fortune.

"If the cook takes his wrath out on you, I will not intervene." Zoro declared. Because if he did, he
would either be dead or divorced on the spot.

Somehow, the wedding cake was untouched. He saw a barrier dome covering the banquets,
protecting the cake as well as the food. That would be the work of that green chickenhead fanboy.
Still, the whole event was a mess. Somewhere out there in the battlefield, Nami let out an angry
shriek. It seemed like her dress had got torn. The sea witch looked like she was about to electrocute
the entire square. Luffy would be deader than dead when the scuffle was over.

This whole island was going to turn into a bloodbath and there was no sign that it was going to end
very soon. With everyone getting so pumped up, the fight could drag on for a few days. The
likelihood of him and the cook getting married tonight was so slim.

"This isn't part of the plan," Robin said, assisting both Chopper and Nami in fighting off the
pursuing marines.

"We need a strategy!" Nami shouted in frustration.

"Leave it to me, Nami-san! Your knight has arrived to save the day!"

Dropping from the sky, the groom they had been waiting for had returned with the rest of the
Strawhats. It'd have looked like a pretty cool sight had the two cowardly groomsmen not screamed
their head off from Acrophobia. When they landed, Sanji kicked their asses and berated them for
ruining his grand entrance.

"What took you so long, shit cook?" Zoro kicked one of the marines out of his way and walked
toward the cook. Sanji casually lighted a cigarette.

"Can't believe you couldn't get rid of these nuisances before I came to the rescue. That's why you
lost to me."
"You wanna say that again!? I'll cut you."

"Shut up, you two. Everyone regroup!" Nami, the only levelheaded strategist of the group,
commanded.

The fight had already escalated. At the very least, Sanji could take comfort in the fact that the
civilians had evacuated, hiding safely in their home bunkers. He supposed it was one of the
benefits of living on the island that had seen fights on a daily basis. They were always prepared. All
the people who were still outside were the pirates and marines fighting in groups and pairs.

Sanji missed this.

His body was still recovering from the previous fight with Zoro and in any way, he wasn't in the
best condition to fight. But he missed this. Them. The Strawhats. Back-to-back, ready to punch, cut
and kick their way out of any obstacles.

The Strawhats had been at a stalemate with troops of marines who managed to surround them
while they were busy quarreling with each other. But the marines could decide to advance at any
moment.

"So, what's the plan, captain?"

Sanji was growing impatient. He raised one of his feet and watched with dark amusement when the
fainthearted ones flinched. Beside him, Zoro's hand was resting on his sword hilts, ready to draw
and let the blades taste blood. Marimo's body wasn't any less battered than Sanji's. But he knew,
the swordsman would never hesitate to break his limits again to protect the crew.

Because that was his vow. It had always been their vows.

"The plan is the same, to marry the two of you."

Sanji was surprised that the person who answered was the normally quiet Robin-chan.

"We will do it when we chase those bastards off of my shore," Zoro curtly dismissed the idea.

"You just admitted that Marimo Island is yours?"

"Shut up, curly-brows. By the way, your dad went missing.”

“What!? Tsk. Never mind, the old man cannot die anyway. This fight is much more urgent.”

"We will take care of them by ourselves."

Because it was said by Usopp even Zoro paused his verbal fight with the cook to look at the sniper
whose legs were shaking. It was more like a diehard habit at this point. Usopp was never one to
look for a fight, but he never backpedaled anymore. The long-nosed man took a deep breath.
"Guess I couldn't use my 3-page-long script to give you guys a toast but this will do. Sanji. Zoro.
Thank you for reminding me of my worth. Thank you for believing in me during the darkest hours
of my life."

"Usopp?" Sanji said quietly.

"That's well said, Usopp-san. I'll keep mine short as well. Sanji-san. Zoro-san. Thank you for your
kindness. Thank you for accepting me as your nakama." The skeleton tipped his hat to the grooms.
"Since the first time we met," Franky said with a grin, "your guys' manliness always touched my
manly heart. Thanks for being a good bro."

The three exchanged looks before dashing off together.

"Those marines are hogging the booze, let’s go get them, bros!"

"Yosh!"

The combinations of their attacks sent the marines flying and halted the enemy troops' advance.

Robin and Chopper were next to join the fight.

"Thank you for protecting us! Zoro! Sanji!" Chopper tapped his hooves on their legs. The reindeer
didn't look tired anymore. The precious bouquet was safe in his blue backpack. Robin just gave
them her smile. One of her rarest that openly told everything they needed to know, how happy she
was for them.

All who were left now were Nami and Luffy.

It was the navigator’s turn to put her hands on the grooms' shoulders who still stood dumbfounded.
"Thank you for always being there for us." Nami’s eyes were teary but her smile was vibrant. "But
now, you must recite your vows. Luffy!"

Sanji didn’t have any chance to return his gratitude to Nami-san, or the others for all they had done
for him over the years as rubber hands suddenly wrapped around their bodies.

"Shishishi, ready?"

A chill ran down his spine.

Zoro's face was as pale as a ghost. There were few things in this world that still terrified Roronoa
Zoro to death.

One of them was Luffy's infamous travel.

They immediately tried to untangle themselves from Luffy's grip. After every shitty thing the cook
had pulled today, Zoro couldn't believe the cook could sink even lower but when their escape
attempts failed, the cook resorted to sacrifice Zoro to save his own ass. "Luffy, please no. I can fly.
Just take Zoro with yo-"

"Gomu Gomu no Rocket!!!"

"Uwaaaaaaaah!!!"

88.

It almost felt like yesterday when Zoro first experienced being sent flying into the sky against his
will. His life had flashed before his eyes. His head collided with the handrail before his body fell
on the deck of some unknown ship. The cook didn't have better luck either, as he flew across the
deck and hit the wooden wall. His lifeless body slid down to the floor like a sad sack of potatoes.

Luffy landed smoothly on the handrail.

"Oi, Zoro, Sanji. Sorry, shishishi."

That shameless excuse of an apology could be the only reason that made the dying grooms return
from death.

"I'm going to cut/kick you, you menace!"

Luffy laughed and swiftly climbed up the mast to escape his nakamas' wrath. Still clinging to the
mast like the monkey he was, their captain asked,

"Zoro, Sanji- do you have fun with each other?"

At his question, Zoro and Sanji lowered their weapons in unison to look at each other. For the first
time in the night, they finally saw how horrible the other looked, ruffled suits and dirty skin.
Making Zoro wear a white outfit was really not the brightest idea of Sanji. The swordsman already
dyed the fabric with his blood. But it wasn't like Sanji had the right to say. He was pretty sure that
the mixture of sweat and perfume made him smell slightly better than a rotten fish.

This was their wedding day. They had spent what supposed to be the best day of their lives exactly
the same as they had always spent it together, both before and after the disbandment. Getting into
trouble. Making a mess of everything.

But every day was full of fun.

They looked at each other before giving their captain their answer.

"Yes, we do."

"Continue to have fun onward, then. Captain's order!"

They broke into a grin.

"Aye, captain. We will."

"I now pronounce you husband and husband! That's all I remember from the script anyway. Are
you two husbands now?" Sanji looked at Zoro, suppressing his laughter. "I think you just did it,
captain. I'm seeing a husband-y halo around marimo's head now. Terrifying."

Zoro snorted. "I suddenly see the beauty in the cook's eyebrows too. This witchcraft is working."

"Great!" Luffy clasped his hands, the couple's jesting going completely over his head. He wasted
no time jumping back onto the handrail, ready to swing back into battle. “I must go and protect my
cake now. Don't get captured on the run!"

After giving his somewhat questionable blessing, one of the greatest men in the age of piracy left
the ship.

The newlyweds were now on their own.

And they had absolutely no idea what to do next.

"Are we stealing someone's ship?" Zoro asked, just to break the growing awkward silence between
them.

"No, this is ours."

"Huh?"

"She’s our wedding gift from our friends."

"What?"

Sanji looked at his feet, feeling self-conscious. Where the hell did this bashfulness come from?

"A.. anyway, we must follow the captain's order and escape. I'll go start the engine. You take care
of the anchors and sails!"

Without waiting for Zoro's response, the cook promptly disappeared into the ship so he didn't have
to see his husband's face.

Zoro hollered after him, "just because we're married, doesn't give you the right to boss me around!"

But he did as he was told, grumpily adjusting the sails for the winds.

As he was about to go deal with the anchors, Zoro felt something moving on the beach.

No, not something. Someone.

"We searched for you." He said, loud enough for the old man on the beach to hear.

"Need fresh air. An old man should stay away from an overcrowded congregation. It's bad for my
frail body."

Zoro walked over to the handrail to have a good look at the frail old man who could kick half of
the pirates in the New World.

Zeff shrugged.

"Are you two married yet?"

Zoro showed the man his wedding ring.

Zeff nodded. "You look like shit."

"Your son looks worse than me."

The old man lighted himself a cigarette. Death, the cook's favorite brand. He slowly let out the
smoke before saying, "I don't care if you make him bleed. But if he weeps, boy, there are no seas
that could keep you hidden from me."

"You wouldn't have to search for me if that happened. I would come offering my head to you."

Zeff gave Zoro the once-over. The swordsman forced himself to meet the old man's eyes. Zeff let
out a bittersweet smile of approval. Once he finished his smoke, the man confessed to Zoro. "For
five long years, I've waited for this day. I thought I was prepared, but I wasn't. Pardon me for being
a sentimental old fool -it's hard for a father to give his son away."
Zoro wondered if one day he would be able to understand what Zeff was going through. People
often said: the love of fathers ran deep. Zoro had never cared about this sentiment. It was unrelated
to him. But since he had lived with the cook, he could never be gladder that he got to know Zeff. If
one day he had to be someone's father, he wished he could be half as good as Zeff who had done so
much for the cook, and Zoro himself.

"You didn't lose anything, old man. You've just earned yourself another son."

Zeff's eyes widened before letting out a burst of loud laughter that echoed through down the beach.
The brat was bold. Too bold.

Eggplant chose well.

It was the father's bellow of laughter that summoned the son to the deck. Sanji stood still beside
Zoro, looking at Zeff, a swirl of emotions in his chest. So many things that he wanted to tell the old
man. He wanted to yell 'where the fuck did you go?', 'you shitty geezer, you made me worry!' But,
why did the geezer look at Sanji like that? How could he yell at someone who had tears running
down his face? Damn, shitty geezer.

Sanji swallowed down all his curses, and shouted as loudly as his voice would allow.

"Dad, I'm married!"

"Make sure you two don't catch a cold during your honeymoon, sons."

The cook didn't know why his vision was starting to get blurry again. Oh right. There were tears in
his eyes.

A lot of things had happened today. Their wedding ceremony was ruined but somehow they still
managed to recite their vows. They hadn't caught their breath to let the fact sink in -that they were
now married. But it was this moment when Sanji was standing on the deck with Zoro's hand on his
back, watching Zeff's lone figure becoming a small silhouette on the beach, and the island
becoming a dot on the horizon. The Sun rising as their new ship sailed away from the island. That
was when reality finally sunk in.

Yes, they were married.

89.

Both of them hadn't taken their eyes off that small dot. Zoro's hand was still on his swords' hilts
and Sanji was smoking his ninth cigarette. Their eyes were red from lack of sleep.

"They will be fine."

"They will."

"I still want to sail back to them."

"I know."
"What should we do now?"

"How's about we start the day by going to sleep?"

Sanji threw the cigarette butt at his husband. His. Husband.

"Let's open our wedding gifts." Sanji decided.

He was tired but the idea of unwrapping gifts from the girls got him excited. Zoro rolled his eye,
knowing too well of his husband's perverted thoughts, but let the cook take his hand as they went to
explore the ship anyway.

This ship had just a few chambers, all equipped with handcrafted furniture. Sanji couldn't help but
laugh when discovered that the sickbay was stockpiled with bandages among other things.

"Your self-destructive tendencies terrified Chopper, jackass," the cook teased. Zoro rummaged
through the freezer containers of medication in the pharmacy fridge and lifted up one of the
thousands of blood bags of Sanji's blood type for the cook to see.

"Not as much as your perversion worried him, Mr. Nosebleed."

Sanji made a weird angry noise in his throat before dragging Zoro to the other rooms.

The bedroom had bookshelves filled with Robin's selection. They randomly picked one to have a
look at what she gifted. It was Kama Sutra which made them realize their urgent need to leave the
room.

Finally, they made it to the galley. On the table sat a compass and a record player. The compass
was the second gift from Usopp. How thoughtful of the marksman to invent a compass working as
a tracking device that was meant to track down Zoro's location from his ring. Well, Sanji's ring
also had a built-in tracking system too, but it was obvious whom Usopp had in his mind when he
designed the rings. Sanji immediately decided it was his most favorite gift. Zoro wasn't amused.
The next time he found him, Zoro was going to have a word with that long-nosed bastard. Sanji
patted the affronted swordsman's head and decided to play the Soul King's golden record. He
turned the sound volume up to the maximum level. It was just them and the sea. There was no need
to be considerate of the fish.

When they returned back on the deck, finally they noticed three beautiful orange trees, covered in
their little white blossoms. The warm light of the morning sun brought to light the full beauty of
the ship that had been hidden during the night. They looked at the wooden bow of the ship craved
into a mermaid wielding three swords.

"Her name is Blue Wander," Sanji revealed. "Our shipwright named her for us."

"Couldn't think of any better name than this." Zoro agreed.

She was even smaller than the Going Merry. The vessel was made for only two people to row.

From the galley, Brook's song still followed them like the invisible spirit.

"The water is wide, I cannot cross over

And neither have I wings to fly

Build me a boat

That can carry two

And both shall row, my love and I,"*

Zoro leaned his back against one of the masts. Despite his body protesting for him to get some
sleep already, he couldn't close his eye. They were sailing further away into the uncharted waters,
untouched by man. No island and clouds on sight. Just the blue ocean and the blue sky. Where did
the sky end and the sea begin? He had been through this question before. He hadn't found the
answer yet.

Maybe he should rest his eye.

"Don't die on me. I'm not prepared to be a widow." The cook came back from the kitchen in time to
annoy Zoro. Sanji kicked him in the leg, and before Zoro could draw out his sword, a small plate
was placed on his lap. The swordsman grabbed the plate and gazed intensely at the food.

"Why are you abusing your brain, marimo?"

"Jelly for breakfast?"

Sanji gave him a dirty look.

"It's a raindrop cake," he patiently corrected his husband.

"Cake? Huh, it's- small. Would hardly be filling," commented Zoro, the ever pragmatic person. In
other words, an idiot. He was still staring at the cake and making a face akin to a dumb dog. Or, a
dumb big cat. Or whatever animals that were capable of making a dumb face. His husband was
dumb.

But to be honest, you could hardly blame him for being a little bit puzzled by this concept of cakes.
Sanji’s raindrop cake looked like everything but cakes. It was the size of Zoro's palm and looked
like a blue crystal globe that contained the ocean. At the bottom of the ocean cake, lay replicas of
Zoro's swords. It was more like a piece of art than an edible thing, in Zoro's opinion. He wasn't
used to eating something this pretty.

Zoro poked the cake to watch it jiggle. Sanji refrained from bashing in his skull.

"I had to put some sugar in it. But this is the closest thing you could hope to get for a cake due to
your finicky appetite."

“-Can you make a cake but with lots of alcohol instead of sugar, milk, and butter?”

“It’ll taste like your vomit.”

“I'll have it-"

"You've remembered my request." Zoro's eye widened, looking at the jelly in his hand again in a
different light. It was his wedding cake.

"I'm your cook, of course, I remembered your request."

"You aren't just my cook, you are my husband."

While Sanji was busy hiding his blush, Zoro decided to put the whole thing in his mouth, chewing
loudly.

He couldn't hide his pleasant surprise of how something this small could contain such deep flavors.
Zoro swore it had all kinds of liquor in there. Rum, sake, whiskey, gin and a tint of wine, all were
distinguishable but blended together into a whole.

"I'll be damned. This is now my favorite kind of All Blue."

Sanji chuckled and sat down beside the swordsman. He looked out to the sea, letting the wind
caress his hair. He was so whole that he decided to forgo smoking. "Have I ever told you why I
love the All Blue?"

Zoro paused from licking the plate to let Sanji know he had his full attention.

"This is where all dreams live." The cook began. "For this sea, thousands and thousands of dreams
have been drowned. Since I was a child, I've refused to believe that they are forever lost. Instead, I
believe that somehow, even if the owners are gone, their dreams will find their way to the All Blue.
Look, I am right! I've found them. They are now believed. They aren't alone anymore."

"You are found too." Zoro held Sanji's hand and kissed his knuckles.

Sanji felt like his heart was attacked by a novel disease named I-am-cursed-to-cry. He was always
a sensible man and being married seemed to make him extremely sensitive. He couldn't hold in his
happiness anymore. Finally, he let tears stream down his face.

"Cook, why the fuck are you crying?" Zoro asked but his tone wasn't unkind. The swordsman
hadn't let go of Sanji's hand.

"I'm happy. The All Blue looks as beautiful as the first time I saw it! Now that I don't have work to
do," Sanji hiccupped. Damn it, this was so uncool of him. "I don't know how to navigate my life!"

"That is why you shouldn't overwork. It makes you suffer," Zoro reprimanded softly. "I've always
told you to take some days off."

"I have a moss to feed, I have to work hard!" Sanji managed to yell at Zoro while crying. "And I'm
not done yet! When I was in the kitchen, I opened the fridge and I saw a chunk of ham. Zoro! Luffy
gave us a chunk of ham! It made me cry, damn it."

Luffy gave them food. Zoro rubbed his eye, it started to get a bit teary as well. Damn, Luffy.

Sanji sniffled. "And I've missed your earrings."

Zoro shook his head, looking fondly at the crybaby in front of him. He guided Sanji's hand to his
left ear. "Silly cook, you are wearing my earrings." The cook's wedding ring touched his earlobe.
Sanji suddenly ceased his crying-

And surged forward to kiss Zoro.

"Take me to that area where you found that new ugly fish last time," Sanji whispered into the kiss.
“Let’s go fishing.”

"Are you sure you want me to do the navigating stuff?"

"It's okay if we are wandering." Sanji closed his eyes and rested his head on Zoro's shoulder,
wetting his husband's shirt. "I will never be lost for all I've ever needed is right here beside me."

90. Extra

They hadn't forgotten about the bet, of course. But they finally found a way to compromise.
Kinda.

Besides the gifts from their nakama, there were also some gifts from their guests that Franky
managed to store in a wooden chest. One of the gifts happened to be a photo book of Sanji from
Ivankov. Sanji threw that abomination into the sea. His husband jumped after it without
hesitation.

Sanji was offended. He was mad and was seriously considered leaving the man in the sea like the
useless clump of seaweed he was. Why would Zoro have this unhealthy obsession with a younger
Sanji in a dress when he actually had him, the actual Sanji who aged like a fine wine, at hand. He
swore if he wore a dress, he would be more breathtaking than his younger self.

That was when he got an idea.

If marimo had a tail, it would be wagging like crazy when Sanji offered to dress up. That man
barely thought twice when he agreed to Sanji's condition.

"You know, by marriage, we are one person by law, right?"

"Huh?"

Zoro made that dumb face again. Sanji grinned wickedly. He bet that expression would look even
better on marimo when he donned a dress.

In short, they had to dress up in solidarity.

When Blue Wander disembarked on some populated island for restocking supplies (also, finding a
new bed to replace the one that they broke), a marine reporter managed to take a few lucky shots of
them.

Their bounty posters got updated afterward.

This was the story of how the greatest swordsman became a new member of Sanji's I-hate-my-
bounty-poster club when he saw the new poster of himself in a pink camisole**. Zoro almost burst
out of the poor tiny garment. On the other hand, Sanji rocked his blue chiffon top. It was easier to
find dresses and skirts for Sanji's body type. That was why he looked sexier, especially when
compared to the sulking gorilla next to him.

It was quite ironic that the poster he hated the least was of him in a fucking dress. Maybe it was the
sign of his maturity. At least, the marines got his name right this time. Roronoa Sanji.

Sanji planned to let his husband be haunted by his poster for a few more months before taking him
 to the navy headquarters and letting his swordsman hubby get his revenge.

All in all, they managed to fulfill their vows.

Married life was fun.

Chapter End Notes

*The song featured in this chapter is called 'the water is wide.' It is really an old song
and there are many versions of it sung by different talented singers like James Taylor
or Hayley Westenra.

** When the crew saw Zoro's new poster, Nami claimed she died from laughter and
only came back to life so she could tease Zoro. Needless to say, Zoro was not happy.

End Notes

Excuse my English.

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