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Usopp carefully watches Luffy over the sandwich he is biting into, and he can’t help but worry.
Hard not to after spending two years doing exactly that. Worrying about Luffy has become an automatic mechanism, a habit, and finally having his best friend in front of him – and being able to look at him without the frenzy of a battle or an escape or any kind of risk Luffy attracts like moths to light, making sure he is actually there and good – does not make his concern diminish. Because it is true that they had been busy since they found each other again, it is true that there were the depths of the sea, Fishman Island and the first breath in the New World; but while everyone else had shared stories and anecdotes of the last two years – some funny, some exciting and some surprising – the Captain had said nothing of… well, nothing.
Usopp only knows what he has read in the newspapers and it is not enough. It isn’t enough to calm him, convince him that everything would be fine; because a person, no matter how strong, no matter that’s Luffy he is talking about, does not (barely) survives an ordeal like that without scars.
And not the physical ones, like the one on his chest that Usopp can only imagine how much it hurt, but those that are unseen, the most difficult to heal.
Luffy jokes and laughs and eats and drinks every word of his nakamas like a thirsty man stuck in a desert, but he doesn’t say a word about himself and his two years and this is weird, this is unsettling. Usopp has always given Luffy for granted and he only now realizes, after two years without him, that even Luffy has things he doesn’t want to talk about and, like everyone else, he carries on his shoulders the weight of things unsaid.
A quick glance at his nakamas makes it clear that he is not the only one to notice it. Robin, Brook, Sanji and Zoro seem to share his thoughts, because their eyes meet for a brief moment in the middle of Franky’s story.
Robin knows the weight of secrets, Brook knows loneliness. Sanji knows people. Zoro knows Luffy.
He has a lot of opportunities to talk to his Captain but he can’t find the courage to do it.
He thought he had defeated his cowardice, or at least that he was keeping it under control, but when he looks into Luffy’s eyes and feels his words die in his throat, he knows it is a lie; he may have found a bit of courage within himself to stand still and fight his enemies, but that courage is nothing if he fails at something as easy as asking his best friend “Luffy, are you sure you’re okay?”
Luffy acts as he always did, as if those two years never existed to begin with: smiling and carefree and bright like the sun. He chooses the route to the more dangerous island and ends up following a totally different one instead, responding to a help signal that smells like a trap, but Luffy doesn’t care. He is unpredictability and adventure and pure freedom and Usopp paradoxically feels safe, at ease after days so-and-so and bad days and really bad days; but despite everything being exactly like he remembers it, and feeling at home at last, there is something strange, and he doesn’t know if it actually exists or is just something his mind is making up.
It’s all the same but not really and when Chopper asks him if there’s something wrong, Usopp shrugs and lies, saying that he thought he saw a fairy on the sea waters – miraculously calm.
Luffy and Chopper immediately rush to the railing to have a better view and Usopp takes the opportunity to stare at his Captain, unnoticed.
He knows he only has to ask and Luffy would tell him everything. He knows that he only has to ask and Luffy would not spare anything.
But Usopp has the nasty feeling that saying the word ‘Marineford’ is like swearing in church, and that Ace’s name may reopen wounds that he doesn’t know whether to be completely healed or if they just stopped bleeding.
So he swallows his words and replaces the racking curiosity with lies. Some told to the others, like the tale of the sea fairies that shows fishermen where to find fish, some to himself, as if trying to convince himself that if Luffy is smiling and playing and shining in his own light then he is fine, then there is nothing to worry about.
Too bad he does not believe his own lies.
But Luffy is all instinct like an animal and seems to just feel when someone around him is uncertain, or brooding, or in trouble. Just as if people emanates special vibrations and Luffy could sense them. Really, Usopp should have known better.
He is on lookout when Luffy joins him. It’s late for the Captain’s habits, everyone is already asleep, but he still sits beside him on the bow railing and smiles to the sea.
“It’s past bedtime, you know?” Usopp says cheerfully, calm as he never had been during the last two years, even if the sea below them is dark and unpredictable and dangerous.
“Not sleepy. And I want to spend some time with you, and with Sunny,” the Captain answers and Usopp knows what he is talking about. He used to do the same thing with Merry; he sat quietly, listening to the creaks of the boards and the rustle of the waves against the keel, smiling as if the ship was talking to him and he understood what it was saying.
Usopp understands.
‘Silence’ and ‘Luffy’ in the same sentence are like heresy but at times like that it’s not weird, it’s not bad. Usopp finds waves to be a comforting sound, much like the voices of his nakamas, and suddenly he wonders if it’s the same for Luffy, if he’s trying to calm a restlessness he carried for two years.
He would like to ask him, but he’s a coward. He wonders for a moment if Luffy knows about his insecurities towards him.
“Tell me about the animal island,” Luffy asks suddenly, as if he knew all along, and Usopp begins to tell – perhaps embellishing a bit – stories of his training with Heracles and the great battles won against the Animal Kings of Boing Archipelago.
Luffy laughs and asks questions and listens with the same fun of a child and Usopp light up whenever he hears his typical shishishishi, whenever he’s surprised by his anecdotes and his eyes shines with sincere admiration. Usopp still doesn’t know if Luffy really believes his lies or takes them for what they are, invented stories made up to spark interest and wonder (most of the time), but with him Usopp is free to be himself.
Because Luffy didn’t laugh when he said he wanted to become a brave warrior of the sea, he didn’t have that look between amusement and disbelief like all the others before him.
Luffy stretched his hand and said “let’s do it together.”
So, really, what is he afraid of? He just has to ask and Luffy would give him everything. He’s just like that.
“Luffy, how are you? Seriously,” he asks when laughter are still echoing around them and Luffy looks as if that question was exactly what he was waiting for.
“I’m fine, Usopp,” and he says it really meaning it, and that’s okay.
When he wants to talk, when he wants to tell his story, Usopp will be there to listen.
***
Sanji has an anxiety problem. He has not told anyone about it. It began the day he saw Ace’s photo in the newspaper and read his Captain’s name in the paragraph next to it, mentioned in the middle of a war report that painted a tragedy using words instead of brushes. Since that day his hands shakes from time to time, when anxiety takes over and his thoughts get stuck in a vicious circle of self-pity. Despite trying to keep it under control, there are days in which he cannot. Days in which the guilt goes from a whisper to a loud scream in his head.
Where was I?
Sanji is clever and observant and he realizes without asking the range of what Luffy has risked at Marineford. Seeing the scar on his chest is enough to understand.
He almost lost him. Sanji places the knife next to the chopping board when it starts to get hard to breathe. He recognizes the symptoms but his mind is foggy and he’s confused. He almost lost him.
Where was I?
He is not one of those people who shows gratitude with words. He is very similar to Zoro in that aspect, although admitting it annoys him. He prefers to be thankful through actions, using his talent and creating delicious dishes for his nakama and his Captain, and he is sure that Luffy understands, that Luffy knows.
But at the same time, since they got together again and he was able to see how close death was when it touched Luffy, Sanji has felt his anxiety soar and has watched helplessly the darkening of his thoughts.
Now he is here and he smiles and laughs but where was I when he was crying? When was I when he was bleeding, when he was dying?
He had felt weak, Sanji, during those two years of anger and fatigue and loneliness. He had felt weak and useless and incompetent and now he feels weak and useless and incompetent while the ghost of a crippling hunger makes him sick to the stomach and takes him back, on a barren rock in the middle of the sea.
He is not breathing and, when he tries, the breath he takes is shallow and wheezing. The knife falls to the ground and he kneels to pick it up but his hand is shaking so much he can’t hold it. He is nauseous and he feels something invisible squeezing his chest and he realizes it’s really hard to breathe, all the air he takes stuck in his throat. He emits a strangled sound – a curse or a call for help, he doesn’t know – and Robin, seated at the table reading a book, runs out to call Chopper.
“Panic attack.”
Chopper seems calm while revealing his diagnosis, but in his voice there’s still trace of the agitation he felt when he run into the kitchen hearing Robin’s call. Luffy, standing with his back against the closed door, is listening with an unreadable poker face.
Sanji’s mind stops for a second. “What?” he asks then, dumbstruck.
“Your blood pressure and heart rate are stable now. It’s the only thing that matches your symptoms.”
Sanji can’t believe him. He spent two years working his ass off to become stronger and he won’t break down because of something as insignificant as anxiety. No. He doesn’t accept that.
“Nonsense,” he belittles then, standing up and reaching out to take his cigarettes and lighter, intentioned to get out and back into the kitchen. He would be at his third if Chopper didn’t ban smoking from the infirmary. “It’s a reaction to the bustle of the last few days, that’s all,” he makes up.
But Chopper doesn’t seem convinced. “You shouldn’t underestimate this signals Sanji, it’s a warning of something wrong. If you want to talk about it—”
“No,” he cuts. He hates things like that. That condescending behaviour. He is strong, he trained himself to be. He isn’t the same Sanji of two years ago, weak and incompetent, unable to remain beside his Captain in time of need.
He is not weak anymore. He is not sick.
The air in the room drastically changes and he suddenly realizes that his Captain has not yet uttered a word. Luffy has the same look he has when he faces armies and very strong enemies and Sanji simply knows what he is going to do.
“What should he do?” Luffy asks Chopper and Sanji bites the unlit cigarette he just put between his lips.
“Rest,” the reindeer says. “for a couple of days.”
And Luffy’s decision is immediate. “Ok, Nami and Usopp can cook some dinner.”
This is the straw that breaks the camel’s back.
“I am the cook of this ship!” he loses it, his anxiety that finds vent in anger. “I am perfectly fine and able to do my duty!”
Chopper jumps at the sudden outburst but Luffy doesn’t even flinch. Sanji can read in his eyes he is not going to change his mind but he still feels crippled, useless.
Of what use is he if he can’t cook? Incapable of fight with his Captain, protect him, simply being there when he really needs him.”
“Rest, Sanji. Captain’s order,” Luffy says, apparently untouched by Sanji’s outburst.
And Sanji is angry, and hurt, and disappointed, but obeys. Because Luffy is his Captain, the man he choose to follow at the cost of his life, and he would never disobey his orders.
Eventually, he is sent to bed early like a child. Franky offers to cover his shift on lookout and Usopp cooks a light dinner, which Sanji eats out of respect rather than hunger. He never refuses a meal to a hungry person and he also doesn’t refuse a meal prepared especially for him by someone else.
Chopper insists on giving him a mild sedative – a herbal tea with a bitter aftertaste – but, nevertheless, Sanji cannot sleep. He’s not used to go to bed first, he’s not used to be pampered by his nakamas. Everything seems strange and weird and instead of calming him this agitates him even more.
He snorts at the ceiling and turns on his side searching for a comfortable position to fall asleep.
It is then that the men’s quarter door opens and someone walks silently in. He would recognize the sound of his flip-flops and the cadence of his step even in a crowd. Sanji says nothing but he is sure that Luffy knows he is not sleeping.
If he doesn’t know, he simply ignores it. He sits cross-legged on his bunk, his side glued to Sanji’s back.
“Are you angry with me?” he asks then, in the same way a child would. And Sanji doesn’t really know how to explain that it’s not anger he’s feeling, but an ugly frustration that he doesn’t know how to fight.
“No, Captain. I’m not angry with you,” he answers in the end.
“You’re angry with Zoro then.”
“I am always angry with moss-head,” he says, but he doesn’t really mean it and Luffy knows.
The Captain laughs and Sanji similes by reflex.
“If you’re not angry then what’s wrong?” Luffy asks.
Sanji doesn’t really know what to answer but tries all the same.
“I am angry with myself,” he admits.
“Why?”
He tightens his lips, doesn’t want to tell him. One thing is to admit your weaknesses with yourself and one thing is to admit them before the man who found you in a small restaurant in the middle of the vast East Blue and chose precisely you among many others. The man who had the nerve to look you in the eyes and tell you that only fools give up their dreams for a debt of gratitude, when everyone else would have looked away and changed the subject.
He was a complete nobody in a restaurant on the sea; Luffy found him, took him away and gave him a name, a home and a family.
And perhaps, it is exactly why Luffy deserves his sincerity.
“I am angry with myself because I wasn’t there when you needed me,” he confesses. He cannot see the expression on his Captain’s face but he doesn’t interrupt the silence that is created.
When Luffy answers he does it while running a hand through Sanji’s hair. “I’m glad you weren’t there.”
Sanji holds his breath.
“You’d be dead. Perhaps not all of you, because Sanji and Zoro were strong even two years ago, but some of you would be. And I would have lost much more than a brother,” he says.
Sanji closes his eyes and wants to hug him or shout at him or do both things simultaneously. I don’t care, he wants to say, I’m strong enough to die with you. But Luffy goes on talking.
“But then, you were there,” he says. “When I thought I had nothing left, I still had my crew.”
And Sanji thinks that Luffy has always been like that. He has always been willing to give his strength to those who don’t have it, to give everything of himself without asking anything in return. This is what he does when he smiles, when he speaks, when he runs forward into an adventure. His mere presence is a source of strength and confidence and Sanji doesn’t even know where he would be today without him. He can’t imagine a life different from the one he has on the Thousand Sunny, following his Captain on the road that one day will lead to the fulfilment of their dreams.
Because everyone laughed when Sanji said he wanted to find the All Blue. Everyone but the Captain of that ship.
He had been his since.
Sanji doesn’t say a word, although he would like to. He isn’t the only one who noticed the words his Captain keeps to himself, the things he doesn’t say. But he trusts him and knows that, in due time, when he’s ready, he will tell them everything they want to know.
For the moment, Sanji is content to draw strength from his presence, as he always did.
“Tomorrow we feast. To celebrate the New World and recharge our batteries before the next island.”
“With lots of meat on the bone?”
Sanji chuckles. “Of course, Captain. Who do you think I am?”
“My cook. The best cook!”
Sanji doesn’t try to stop the smile that comes naturally. His anxiety seems to magically disappear and, after two years, he takes a deep breath of fresh air on the surface.
“Nothing less for the Pirate King,” he says closing his eyes, suddenly tired.
Luffy stretches beside him on the bed, side-to-back, the straw hat carefully placed on the ground. And even if they are too cramped and uncomfortable and the next morning he will wake up with an aching back for keeping that position all night, Sanji is happy. His Captain is alive, his nakamas are well.
Everything is fine.
***
Something wakes Zoro at the crack of dawn.
He opens his eyes and, for a moment, he is in Kuraigana. The darkness that surrounds him is similar and different at the same time and his brain needs some time to catch up, actually acknowledging what he’s seeing as the men’s quarters of the Thousand Sunny.
He licks his lips and sighs, relieved, blinking a few times to get used to the bluish light coming through the window. About two hours before dawn, he considers; still too early – he can see the perverted cook still sleeping on his bed (when he’s always the first to wake) – and for a second he wonders what woke him up, given that in the room there’s nothing but silence and the deep breaths of sleeping people.
He would think to have dreamt of it – whatever it is – if he had not spent two years on Kuraigana. The darkness of that island has its own way to shape a person and, in Zoro’s case, it made his sleep light and his instincts sharp. If he woke up that way, with a start and his heart pounding, there is surely something wrong.
He doesn’t pick something strange with his Observation Haki. He has half a mind to get up and go check Brook – last lookout shift – when he finally realizes it.
Luffy’s breath, on the bunk above his own, is strange. Trembling and uneven, muffled as if he has something over his mouth. Then he remembers: Luffy snores. And moves and talks in his sleep. All of them have become accustomed to him – they still are after two years – and don’t wake up anymore to the sound of his voice talking about meat and adventure in the middle of a dream. But this sound is strange and different and Zoro is suddenly restless.
He stands up to see what happens and he is surprised by what he finds.
Luffy is awake. He has both hands pressed on his mouth and his cheeks are wet (with tears, probably). His shoulders tremble slightly and he’s curled on his side. He looks at him with big, lost eyes and Zoro sees a hint of surprise in them – maybe Luffy thought he didn’t wake anyone – but no embarrassment. Not before him.
Zoro knows everything even without asking. He climbs on his Captain’s bed and lies down beside him. Luffy wastes no time and, without a single trace of shame, hides his face in Zoro’s neck, body pressing against his as if he’s trying to disappear into him. Zoro hugs him and runs a hand through his hair, making him feel his presence.
Luffy slowly falls asleep. Zoro is wide awake.
Their relationship is different. Everyone knows – it’s crystal clear.
Zoro never wondered why. He likes this prerogative, this “privilege” he has, and even if Nami complains about it (kidding) and the perverted cook mocks it (pretending), Zoro wouldn’t change it for the world.
Because there are things that go beyond loyalty bordering on worship, or the ability to wordlessly understand each other. Their bond has its roots on an unshakable trust and that means they belong to each other in a way that goes beyond friendship, or simple camaraderie. Zoro belongs to Luffy and this is a fact, but Luffy belongs to Zoro in the same way and he shows it by letting Zoro see that part of himself he doesn’t show to anyone else; the insecure, weak side of the Captain they admire.
Zoro doesn’t think less of him because of it. Actually, he feels proud.
Because Luffy may be ignorant about many things, stupid, naïve, reckless and sometimes too honest, irritating and heart-attack inducing; but he’s always there when one of his nakamas is in trouble, ready to freely give the strength they need to get back on their feet.
Luffy may be rush and superficial, and he may seem unsuitable to be a Captain, but Zoro (and the other Strawhats) knows the truth: once Luffy loves you he gives you everything. You become precious to him, a treasure to care about and protect, but still free to do everything you want the way you want. And this, more than everything else, makes him a Captain worth of the title.
But even people like Luffy have their shadows, their nightmares, and Zoro is there for that too.
That side of himself that Luffy doesn’t show to the others belongs to Zoro. And Zoro is jealous of it.
The swordsman never asks what the problem is when Luffy sits next to him in the nights he is on lookout and lays silently his head on Zoro’s shoulder, the brim of his hat covering his eyes; he doesn’t asks for explanations when the Captain lies beside him on his bunk, or when he stretches his hand under the table searching for Zoro’s. They can read each other like open books and, as always, they don’t need to talk. For them, voice is useless and words redundant.
That’s why Zoro is not concerned about Luffy’s silence like Usopp, or craves for his closeness to reassure himself like Sanji; he reads in Luffy’s eyes what he wants to know and knows that he will speak in due time, that he’ll tell them everything when he’s ready. Luffy’s strength is where it has always been, his spirit shining like the sun – the same light that saved him three years before – and that is not the light of a broken man. His Captain’s eyes are set on the horizon and this is all Zoro needs to know.
But Kuraigana instilled something inside him. It tore him apart and put him back together and in the overwhelming darkness, watching a sky always dark, Zoro realized something.
He understood that there’s a need within him, primal and deep, that has always been there, and he can no longer afford to ignore it. He understood that there is something unfinished between Luffy and himself, a matter left open, and he has every intention of closing it.
He’s the one to search for Luffy that same afternoon. The sun is beginning to set and soon the perverted cook will call them all for dinner. He finds him with Chopper and Usopp, intently watching some new modification on Franky, and he almost regrets having to interrupt them. Usopp seems less tense than the previous days and Zoro can only think that this too is Luffy’s doing.
“Captain, a word?”
The four turn towards him and Luffy (predictably) pouts. But he seems to see something in Zoro’s eyes, because he immediately gets up and smiles to the others, telling them they would meet again at dinner. Zoro leads the way in silence and in a few minutes they are in the circular room above the mast.
Luffy smiles but doesn’t sit down and neither does Zoro, returning the calm e sincere gaze his Captain gives him. He should be nervous for what he’s about to say, but he is not. The sun is low on the horizon and its amber light lengthen the shadows of the room in an almost surreal atmosphere.
Zoro would like to say many things but doesn’t know where to start. I missed you is among them, and sorry I wasn’t there. He would like to tell him that he realized something important on that godforsaken island; he understood that dreams can change and become something bigger and multifaceted and that he can no longer think to conquer his dream without him. He would like to tell him that he found his place: a step behind him, always. He would like to tell him that he is no longer able to be alone, despite being alone pretty much for all his life, and he hopes that at the end of the journey, when they will become the World’s Greatest Swordsman and the Pirate King; he hopes, when they’ll fulfil their dreams, that Luffy will share that feeling and will decide to keep Zoro with him.
Zoro thinks he loves him and silently wonders if Luffy knows.
Luffy knows.
He comes near him, invading his space with his lumbering presence, and Zoro wonders for a moment what would be like to be struck by his Conqueror Haki if only his proximity is enough to cause him goosebumps. Luffy looks at him and smiles and raises his hand to touch his lips with a delicacy Zoro didn’t believe he had. It is easy for the swordsman to place his hands on his hips, welcoming him into his embrace as if it is the rightest thing he’s ever done in all his life. Luffy gets up on tiptoe when he kisses him and Zoro thinks it’s the most obvious of all clichés but he still meets his lips halfway, returning the kiss.
They don’t speak. Never needed to, anyway.
That night, at dinner, Luffy is quieter than usual and everyone notice.
They starts frivolous conversations, but each of them looks at the Captain out of the corner of their eyes, who gorges himself on food as usual but does so in silence, lost in thought.
Zoro knows what is going on in his Captain’s head. He has the look of someone who is about to make an important decision and the swordsman is calm, because whatever it is he’ll be right beside him. This time he is the one reaching for Luffy’s hand under the table, and the Captain thanks him by squeezing it back.
Luffy takes a breath, and just that little change in his breathing is enough to draw the attention of everyone else in the room.
Then, he starts to tell.
He tells of Amazon Lily and the Snake’s Empress. Of a newspaper article and a decision. He tells of a prison that looks more like a hell, with flames and ice and thorns and silence. He tells of unexpected friends and unthinkable allies. He tells of a break and a chase.
He describes a white desert full of people and it’s hard for Zoro to imagine Marineford. He fought many battles but he has never been in a real war. He cannot imagine the chaos, the noise, the screams and gunshots and Luffy doesn’t tell. He has the impression that the Captain’s not telling much. Not because he doesn’t want to, but because it simply hurts too much. And because there are thing that should remain buried inside him, cloaked in words unspoken.
He spins the tale of a dying brother. His voice is strange and he apologizes, because he doesn’t remember much from that moment onward. He only knows that he woke up in a submarine and that Jinbe was the one who took him away from the battle.
At the end of the tale they are all crying. Someone freely, like Chopper, Franky, Brook and Nami. Someone silently, like Usopp and Robin. Someone else, namely Sanji, has a hand on his eyes and tries to hold back tears with all his strength.
Only Luffy and Zoro are not crying. Luffy has already cried too much two years before and Zoro doesn’t allow himself that weakness.
Perhaps it wasn’t necessary for them to hear that story. There are things said and unsaid between them, secrets like there are in any family, and no one makes a big deal of it. They trust each other and that’s enough.
Or they really needed to hear that story. Because they would never stop caring for their Captain – after two year it became an habit – even if he’s there with them and stronger than ever. They wanted to be, even if just ideally, part of the adventure with a bitter end they should have faced together, and that instead Luffy faced alone.
No one speaks for many minutes. Then Usopp stands up and hugs Luffy, followed by Chopper and Nami, and Brook starts to play a sweet melody with his violin while the cook swiftly wipes his eyes and runs his hands through Luffy’s hair.
Zoro squeezes the hand still in his and makes a silent promise: whatever happens, wherever the end of their journey is, he will never let go of that hand again.
***
Trafalgar Law is on their ship for less than twelve hours and Luffy’s already haunting him with all kinds of questions. It seems that the Captain of the Heart Pirates played a role in Luffy’s rescue two years before and the two, incredibly, seem even friendly with each other. If Luffy was a dog, he would wag.
That’s what draws Usopp’s attention. And suspicion.
Trafalgar Law became their ally alarmingly fast and, despite the uproar that broke out at Punk Hazard, he has not yet broke their alliance. He seems perpetually annoyed but can easily stand up to Luffy’s hyperactivity without going mad.
Sanji doesn’t know if he’s a genius or delusional.
Trafalgar Law comes out of nowhere and gravitates around Luffy like a moon around its planet. He listens to Luffy’s every word and answers his every question, he tries to explain his strategies being fully aware that Luffy won’t understand a word, he talks about trifles as if he and Luffy had known each other for all their life.
Zoro’s not jealous. He just noticed a thing that’s before everyone eyes but that no one has yet seen.
Sighing, he closes the only eye he has left and prepares to take a quick nap.
Sooner or later, Luffy will save Law’s life. Perhaps not literally, but he will do something reckless that will mean the world to Law. Then he will turn over that same world like a sock and Trafalgar will be forever trapped in Luffy’s gravitational axis.
Zoro knows. He has seen it done before.
He felt it on his skin, before.
Luckily, now he and Luffy sleep together, he thinks. You never know when you will need an extra bed.