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Zoro roughly grunted as he blocked another heavy blow from King when he suddenly felt the vibrations of a den den mushi against his side. When did this get in here?
“I slipped it into your haramaki in case you got lost.” The receiver muttered, Zoro scoffed, immediately recognizing Sanji’s voice.
“What do you want, dumb cook? You’re distracting me!” Zoro complained.
“After things calm down, if… if I’m no longer myself…” Sanji kept hesitating, Zoro almost missed how his voice slightly shook. “I want you to kill me.”
“Not sure if I get it but if it comes to that, I’ll make it swift!” Zoro immediately answered, quickly gathering his breath before his next attack.
“… Thanks.”
______
Sanji sighed as he sat back down on the tatami floor. He was still covered in bandages, yet his body didn’t hurt as much as he expected. Maybe the painkillers were still working.
“Sanji-san!” Brook called, almost shouting.
“Huh? Brook?”
“Are you okay? I’ve been tapping you this whole time and you didn’t respond, shall I call for Chopper?” Brook asked in a worried tone.
“Oh— I didn’t notice, do you need something?” Sanji replied. Did he fall asleep or something?
“Luffy-san is asking for your cooking, he seems to be craving your specific recipe.”
“Okay, okay, tell him I’m working on it.” Sanji chuckled and headed towards the kitchen.
The kitchen was quite busy even though it was past lunchtime, with staff doing some final cleanup and organizing ingredients for the dinner meal prep. They all gave Sanji a respectful bow before giving him his area to work.
Sanji moved fluidly: stirring, chopping, and seasoning with practiced ease. A female staff member busily ran around him, filling jars of hot water which he assumed was for tea. Someone was working this poor lady to the brim.
“Ah! I’m so sorry! Are you okay?” A lady’s voice yelped beside him. Sanji looked at her with a confused expression. “Your arm! Is it hot? I'm so sorry!”
“It’s okay! I’m not hurt!” Sanji quickly reassured, still unsure why she was panicking so much in the first place. But the jar of water was tipped over on the counter, and the bandages around his forearm were clearly wet. “The bandages probably soaked it all up, I didn’t get burned. Don’t worry my lady.” Sanji smiled, wiping the spill with a towel.
“Sanji—!” Luffy’s voice echoed from the halls. “I’m hungry!”
“It’s almost done! Just wait a bit!” Sanji yelled back.
Sanji could already hear Luffy licking the plate clean just after he slid the door closed. Chuckling, he replaced his dead cigarette with a fresh one but paused when he saw Zoro’s concerned expression.
“It’s only my third one!” Sanji exasperated.
“That’s not the fucking— your shoulder!” Zoro pointed, sprinting over to him. His shoulder? Looking down, there was a dark stain on his bright blue yukata, with dried blood coloring his arm. How… How did he not feel this?
“What kinda painkillers did Chopper give me? I didn’t feel a thing!” Sanji groaned.
“What? The painkillers he gave only lasted about an hour?”
Then it clicked.
Brook’s tapping, the apparent hot water on his arm, his open wound. He didn’t feel a single thing.
Sanji jolted up, his mind seemingly going blank. He— he couldn’t feel anything. He desperately scratched his arms, pinching his skin until his fingers shook from the pressure, and pulled his hair until clumps fell out. He couldn’t feel anything. Zoro kept trying to pull him back down, calling out for him except his voice just slurred together in his mind. His vision blurred as he squeezed himself as if to keep himself from falling apart to pieces.
“—K! COOK! OI! SANJI!” A voice shouted, shaking his body. Sanji finally looked up, meeting Zoro’s eye filled with worry. “Cook! What are you doing?” Sanji’s body violently shook within the swordsman’s grasp, his chest heaving as if it were painful to breathe.
“… Zoro—“ Sanji exhaled, trying not to hyperventilate. “Hold me.” Zoro immediately did, pulling Sanji into his arms so quickly his hair lagged behind.
“Tighter,” Sanji begged, almost whispering.
“Tighter.” His voice broke, tears streaming down his face.
“Cook, your shoulder—“
“Tighter.” Sanji choked, sobbing into Zoro’s chest. He noticed the swordsman’s arms were shaking at how tight he was holding him— yet he couldn’t feel a single thing.
“Sanji? What is going on?” Zoro asked, still holding the cook in his arms. Without responding, Sanji squirmed within his grasp, roughly pushing Zoro back and unsheathing Wado in the process.
“Cook!” Zoro gasped, but before he could do anything, Sanji placed the blade directly onto his neck. Zoro froze in place, his expression contorting into panic.
Sanji’s head was limp, his now disheveled blond hair covering his face. His arms were taut, except his hands shook as he pressed the blade against his skin.
“Sanji—“ Zoro began, trying to hide the desperation in his voice. “Put the blade down .”
“… kill me.” Sanji murmured.
“What?”
“You have to kill me, Zoro!” Sanji screamed, his voice tearing out of his throat as tears streamed down his face, his breath shaking violently. “That’s what you promised! I’m not myself now— I can’t… I can’t fucking feel anything!”
“Sanji.” Zoro tried once more. “Let’s talk about this, okay? We can figure this out— just— please. Put the blade down. Let’s talk.”
“I— I can’t feel anything! I can’t feel anything— I’m going to start losing my… my emotions, oh god, I’m going to be like them—“
“No, you’re not! You’re different!” Zoro rebutted, slowly stepping closer with his hands in front of him. “You’re nothing like them.” He finally reached the Wado, gently pulling it back until Sanji finally let go. His neck was uninjured— not even a cut was left on his pristine skin. Zoro didn’t know whether to be thankful or worried.
He pulled Sanji back into his arms, both men sinking from exhaustion. He slowly brushed his head as Sanji wept into his shoulder, unsure if it’d even help. His breath quivered, barely managing to calm down to explain himself.
Sanji forced himself to breathe, focusing entirely on inhaling and exhaling as if he were learning for the first time. Zoro stayed silent, yet his expression was still tight with concern. “It’s because I put on the raid suit—”
“You saved Momo though, right? You got the work done and now you won’t have to put that stupid suit on again.” Zoro reasoned.
“I know, but what if… what if the changes begin to affect me? What if it gets my emotions too? What if… what if—”
“That won’t happen, it physically affected you only because you put on the suit. That won’t change who you are.” The swordsman declared, his voice stern and confident. Sanji knew he wasn’t sure, yet his confidence grounded him.
“...Okay.” Sanji hiccuped, his breathing slowed, yet his tears kept flowing. Zoro continuously brushed them away, gently holding Sanji’s face in his rough hands. “Zoro… Zoro…” he begged. “I can’t— I can’t feel you anymore—”
“It’s… it’s gonna be okay,” Zoro breathed. “We can work this out, we’ll ask Robin or Jimbe or even Law, we can… it’s going to be okay, I promise.” Sanji nodded against his chest. He could tell Zoro had no idea, the way he tried to hide the nervousness in his tone, his harsh breathing, yet it reassured him. Sanji shoved his body as close to Zoro’s as he possibly could, he saw Zoro’s arms were around him, and he saw the swordsman’s arms going up and down his back. Yet when he closed his eyes, he couldn’t feel anything, he couldn’t be sure if Zoro was still holding him. It felt like his heart was splintering into pieces as tears rushed down his cheeks. But Zoro promised. He promised and Sanji knew how important promises were to the swordsman.
He could trust him. He could trust him. He could trust him.
“You promised… back at Onigashima,” Sanji slowly began.
“No– Yes, but we’re going to figure this out.” Zoro interrupted. “You’re not going to change, cook.”
“But if I do—”
“No, you’re not.”
“Zoro, we have to plan—”
“Sanji!” Zoro broke the embrace, staring directly into his eyes. To Sanji’s surprise, they were glistening with tears that clung desperately to the edge. “Are you hearing yourself right now? I swear to god I’ll kick you before your raid suit does.”
Sanji could only sigh in response, unable to string enough words together. He knew Zoro was being emotional, knew he said “kick” instead of his usual “stab” or “slash,” and knew he was reacting this way because it was him. “You’re so stupid,” a soft chuckle left his breath.
A grin tugged Zoro’s cheeks at Sanji’s dull insult, pulling him back into his arms. “I know you’re too stubborn to ever change, cook.”
“You’re right about that, Mosshead.”