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Zoro stared at the table.
There was a plate in front of him. A plate with three pieces of some fancy-ass bread, along with a bunch of grapes and a chunk of cheese. "What the hell?" Everyone else had meat! Really good boar meat from the boar that he'd killed for them! Zoro's gaze finally moved from his plate, drifting toward the blond-haired twat responsible for this shit. "Where's my damn meat?"
The cook shrugged, setting down some snooty shit next to the girls' plates. "It's about time you learned not to make the chef angry, Marimo."
"Huh?!" He hadn't done shit! Why was the bastard angry with him?!
The rest of the idiots he called cremates were all laughing at him, none of them bothering to explain shit. At least Brook gave him some meat.
Whatever.
Except the cook kept doing this shit. Meal after meal, he never gave Zoro any meat. When the salad bowl dropped in front of him for dinner two days later, Zoro snapped. "What the hell did I even do to make you mad, you dumbass?!?!?!"
Damn it, the cook had no right to give him a shitty disappointed look. Zoro refused to back down. He'd done nothing wrong!
The bastard took a long drag from his cigarette, then sighed before turning back toward the ship's galley. "Ask around if you're too stupid to figure it out yourself."
Zoro's teeth felt like they could crush stone, he was clenching them so tight.
He wasn't stupid, damn it!
But he didn't know how to cook, and no matter how many fish he caught with Luffy, the dumbass cook wasn't giving any of them to Zoro. So he had no choice but to figure this out.
But on the fourth day, Zoro still didn't know why the cook was mad. They'd docked at the port. The cook had gone shopping. Zoro had left the ship to look around and see if there was anything interesting. There hadn't been--it was just the usual port town. He'd gotten some beer at a bar, then made his way back to the ship. Maybe it had taken him a few hours, but the cook hadn't needed to come fetch him! Whatever "inconvenience" it might have been, that was his own fault because he didn't trust Zoro.
At least the other's were sharing meat with him, even if the cook was being a dick.
"You know, Sanji was really quite worried."
The hell?
Zoro opened his eyes to see Robin smiling down--of course it was Robin, she was really the only crew member stealthy enough to sneak up on him. He hadn't really been asleep on the deck, just resting his eyes.
She sat down next to him, leaning her back against Sunny's wall. "When you didn't come back even after nightfall, Sanji was distracted. When Brook brought back your shirt, but couldn't find you, Sanji was so surprised that he cut his finger while cooking dinner--it was only a small cut, but very unlike him. Then he left the ship, saying he'd finish dinner after dragging you back."
Huh. Zoro hadn't remembered the bit about losing his shirt. When had that happened? Probably at the bar. No, wait. Hadn't he taken it off because the forest was super hot? He must have dropped it.
"How the hell is his problem my fault?"
Robin didn't say anything.
Zoro was late to the ship all the time! The idiot cook should be used to it by now. And he took off his shirts while working out all the time. It wasn't that weird that he'd lost it in town somewhere.
After a few more minutes, Robin finally spoke again, "He's been wearing a bandage on his left hand. You haven't noticed?"
"Why the hell should I care? Chopper knows how to deal with that shit, not me."
"It's nice to know that our cremates care about our well-being."
"Of course I care! But it's not like the cook would ever let a small cut or some shit keep him from fighting. And he doesn't fight with his hands, anyway."
"Yes, he's rather protective of them."
Damn it.
It wasn't Zoro's fault that the cook was an idiot! Stupid twirly-brows and his dumbass hands.
Zoro refused to apologize when he'd done nothing wrong in the first place.
He closed his eyes.
Robin sat there for another hour or so, reading some stupid book of hers. Eventually the cook called her over for some fancy drink shit, and she patted Zoro's shoulder before she stood up. "I admire the way you trust all of our strength, but sometimes people like it when their friends are worried about them."
That was stupid. Zoro didn't want anyone to worry about him. He wasn't weak. Neither were they.
The next morning, a bowl of mushy brown shit was dropped in front of Zoro.
He stared at it.
He looked up at the cook. "What the hell is this?"
"Gruel. I made sure to include all the nutrients of a properly balanced breakfast." The blond paused, and his grin had a vicious edge. "I even included meat."
There was meat in this shit? Zoro picked up a spoon, stirring it for a second before he wrinkled his nose at the smell. Why the fuck did it smell like thrown-up beer?
"Everything was properly crushed to a fine powder, of course, so someone with your taste buds isn't likely to be able to discern the individual flavors."
Zoro's eyebrow twitched. "Are you saying you don't think I can eat all of this shit?"
"No, I--" The cook paused, then laughed, shaking his head. "You're crazy. Yes. Yes, that is exactly what I'm saying. You know how much I hate it when people on this ship waste food."
Zoro growled. He plunged the spoon into the shit, then shoveled it into his mouth, never breaking eye contact with the bastard. Even if this shit tasted like a terrible hangover, Zoro refused to back down from a challenge.
He ate every. last. drop.
The cook stood there, watching each spoonful disappear, and he gave a satisfied nod when it was done before disappearing back into the kitchen.
At lunch, there was boar meat on Zoro's sandwich.
He grinned and dug in, for once not bothering to steal a crewmate's meal.
The bastard's cooking really was the best, not that Zoro would ever say it.
And that stupid bandage was finally off his hand, too.