Chapter Text
The air grows colder, and Sanji is delighted to treat the crew to hot drinks.
He serves the ladies first, of course, while Chopper, Luffy, and Usopp dance around his heels chanting for hot-chocolate.
“Watch it,” Sanji warns. “If you spill any, you get none.” He deposits the drinks for the ladies and tucks the tray under his arm.
As usual, his warnings don’t work. The younger crew members chase him up the steps to Merry’s kitchen, chanting louder and louder the closer they get to the stove.
“I want marshmallows!” Chopper cheers. “Sanji! Can we make marshmallow sandwiches?”
“S’mores!” Usopp agrees. “Please, Sanji!”
“If I can find the supplies,” Sanji agrees, knowing full well that he has a brand-new stock of s’mores ingredients tucked away from the last grocery trip. He knows his stock down to the last grain. “Line up, patiently. Now hold still.”
He hands them each a cup and they finally stop their chanting, gazing up expectantly with watering mouths. Sanji turns away before it can break his scowl, stirring the pot of hot-chocolate with the ladle. He serves them one at a time, filling their cups with an inch of room to spare. They cheer and turn towards the door.
“You want whipped cream, or not?” Sanji hollers after them.
Of course they do. They rush back and hold up their cups, looking up at him with chocolate mustaches. Sanji spoons fresh whipped cream into their cups, filling the last inch. He makes a small peak with the spoon, even though they won't pause to appreciate the artistry. They run off again, drinking from their cups before they even reach the door.
“Savor it!” Sanji yells. “No seconds!”
“Thanks Sanji!” Luffy yells back, already halfway down to the main deck. The other two echo him.
Sanji smiles to himself and shakes his head, stirring the remains of the whipped cream. He turns down the heat and grabs a mug for Zoro.
Why does he bother, really? Zoro shovels food into his mouth with as much discernment as Luffy, and he hates sweets. Any effort is lost on him. Sanji stirs the more bitter batch and tastes it, adding more spices and tangerine peel. He breaks off more dark chocolate from the bar on the counter and stirs it in. He might as well deliver Zoro boiled water for all the swordsman seems to care. Sanji curls his lip as he stirs in the chocolate. It’s 99% cacao, a gourmet ingredient selected especially for hot-chocolate and other garnishes. It's perfect for baking, limiting the sugar without sacrificing flavor. Sanji taps the ladle on the edge of the pot and swirls hot water into a mug to preheat it. When the clay is warm, he dumps out the water and fills the mug to the top with hot-chocolate. The drink is almost boiling, allowing him plenty of room to top it off with whisky without cooling it too much.
The flavors are perfect, not that Zoro will care. Sanji zips up his coat and goes to find the swordsman, holding his hand over the mug to protect it from falling snow, wondering if Zoro will be sleeping or working out.
Zoro is hanging out near Nami’s tangerine trees, his shirt tossed by his swords as he does push-ups with weights resting on his glistening back. Snowflakes melt on his skin as they drift onto him, rolling down his ribs and dripping onto the deck. His eyes are focused intently on the wood grain, lips moving as he counts to himself. The last of the lighting strike marks he suffered from Enel are fading. Sanji's own itch in sympathy.
“Oi, muscle-head.” Sanji stops nearby. “Last call for hot-chocolate before it’s gone.”
Zoro’s ear twitches but he doesn’t look up. The air temperature must be approaching freezing, but the veins in Zoro’s arms pulse under his tanned skin. “No thanks.” He grunts.
Sanji glares. “O-ho, there is no sugar in this.”
Zoro lifts his body up and holds, making eye-contact and raising his eyebrow curiously.
“Drink before it gets cold,” Sanji gestures impatiently, setting the mug on the deck. “And you’d better not waste it.”
He’s tempted to stick around, to watch Zoro take a sip, but he knows Zoro will like it. Even if the flavor goes unappreciated, the swordsman will like the liquor at least. Sanji waits just long enough for Zoro to start to stand. Then he turns and walks back to the kitchen, shutting the door behind him.
Sanji sighs and tips the last of both hot-chocolate batches into his mug, mixing them together. The result is of medium sweetness. He scrapes the last few teaspoons of whipped cream over top and leans against the counter for a few minutes.
The crew is just visible out the kitchen window. Nami and Robin are lovely as always, sipping their hot drinks to keep warm and chatting to each other. Robin is reading her book while Nami sketches maps on some scrap paper. Usopp is telling extravagant stories to Luffy and Chopper while they fish, enrapturing them so much they're barely paying attention to the lines. Sanji smiles and watches as the story is interrupted by a tug on Chopper’s fishing rod.
Zoro wanders out to join them, mug in-hand as he wipes sweat from his body with his shirt. He leans against the railing to watch as Chopper reels in a gigantic tuna. There’s a soft smile on his face as he sips from the mug.
The swordsman’s eyebrows furrow and he looks into the mug, swirling the liquid.
Good, right? Sanji’s breath halts in his chest.
Zoro licks his lips and keeps drinking. He seems content.
Good. Sanji sighs and finishes his drink, supposing he had better start on lunch.
--
“I’m gonna build a giant snowman! ” Luffy woops, throwing himself over the side of the ship and plunging into the snow.
It’s a Winter island in its Winter season, but despite that, the sun is warm enough to only need a light coat. Sanji expects that once he moves around, he won’t even need that. Zoro of course doesn’t bother to add any layers, hopping off the ship in his usual shirt. Sanji scowls after the swordsman and jumps down with him. At least if the idiot wanders off, his green hair will stand out against the snow.
The air smells of roses. Has Robin changed her perfume? She smells naturally flowery anyway, but this is different. Did she pick up a new bottle on the last island they visited? If anyone could use some perfume it’s Zoro –
“Are you coming, Sanji?” Usopp snaps him out of it. Sanji realizes he’s been glaring after Zoro’s green hair.
“Yay, snow!” Chopper plunges straight in, chasing after Luffy. “Zoro, help me make a snowman!” He grows into his 8-foot-tall humanoid form and tackles Zoro with delight.
Sanji smirks as Zoro completely disappears into the snow. “Sure. Let’s go.” He follows Usopp.
“The treasure should be inland somewhere,” Nami says, unfolding the map they acquired a few weeks ago. It isn’t often that they actually get to hunt for treasure. Nami’s eyes are practically glowing with Beri signs.
“That’s if someone else hasn’t already dug it up like usual,” Usopp mutters.
Sanji bops the sniper lightly on the head. “We don’t know until we look.”
“We have all that treasure from Skypeia, why does it matter? My this-island-gives-me-the-creeps illness is flaring up.” Usopp nervously thumbs the snaps on his bag.
“You can never have too much treasure,” Nami reasons. “Besides, there can’t be anything scarier here than our own crew.” She pats Sanji on the shoulder.
Heartbroken, Sanji glares more vehemently at Zoro, who has just managed to pull himself out from under Chopper before Luffy rockets into him and throws him down again. The swordsman is the scary one here. “There’s nothing to be scared of besides Zoro’s lack of direction,” Sanji reassures. “Besides, it smells like roses! I’ll find you a rose, Nami-san.”
“Right, right, as soon as we find the treasure.” Nami heads off toward the pine forest, inspecting her map. “If we hurry, we can find it before sundown.”
Sanji scampers after her. “Mosshead! ” he yells. “Treasure-hunting!” No matter the size of their haul, Zoro will be able to carry it, leaving Sanji’s hands free to pick roses. He hopes for blue ones. A blue rose would be so lovely, and fitting for a Winter island. Though red or pink would suit Nami’s hair better...
Zoro bursts out of the snow, shaking it from his hair. His skin is pink, but a little exercise will warm him back up. Sanji gestures impatiently and Zoro trots through the snow toward them with a deep scowl on his stern features, falling in line. He glances back at the rest of the crew playing in the snow, at Robin watching over them.
The snow is deep, but lightens up where the trees begin to hang over the ground. Nami leads them to the edge of the forest and starts around the perimeter, following the map. Sanji lights up a cigarette and opens his jacket. He puts his hands in his pockets and enjoys the view. Nami looks so beautiful when she’s determined, her hair bright against the blue sky.
Conversely, Zoro is taping his fingers on his sword, looking around warily. He sniffs the air and glares. “What’s that stench.”
“Roses, you neanderthal,” Sanji growls. “I’m surprised you can smell it over your own disgusting odor.”
“You wouldn’t smell so prissy if you actually did any work,” Zoro retorts.
“Alright then, no dinner for you.”
“I’ll make my own, shit cook.”
“Cut it out,” Nami snaps.
Sanji thinks his reply and sneers instead, curling his lip contemptuously.
Zoro scowls back.
“Stop it,” Nami warns without tearing her eyes from the page.
Sanji tears his eyes away from Zoro and goes back to enjoying the scenery and the fresh smell of flowers. If Zoro wants to be miserable, that’s his prerogative. Still, the swordsman’s wariness is putting him on edge no matter how hard he tries to ignore it. Sanji wishes the other man would lighten up a little bit. It’s just a smell for fuck’s sake. Perhaps pleasant smells are as repellent to Zoro as bathing.
The Merry is long out of sight now. Zoro’s tapping has gone silent, his hand gripping Kitetsu firmly instead. Sanji looks over and Zoro looks back.
The swordsman’s posture is poised as he walks. It pays to be alert anyway, but Zoro looks particularly coiled. Sanji takes his hands out of his pockets and loosens his tie, fanning a bit more to Nami’s side and tearing his focus from her lovely frown.
“We should be close,” Nami announces, pointing inland. “We should hit a plateau, and then the treasure should be a few hundred feet into the forest.”
“We didn’t bring shovels,” Sanji mentions.
“You can always run back and get some. We’ll see what we find. Not all treasures are buried.”
“No...” Sanji murmurs, his eyes catching the splotches of red in the snow ahead. Beside him, Zoro tenses. “Nami...”
She lowers her map, folding it up and tucking it into her pocket when she spots what they're looking at.
“Careful,” Sanji warns, pulling her gently back with a hand on her shoulder and taking the lead. Zoro closes the distance between himself and Nami, his hand tight on his sword. Sanji leaves Nami in his protection and hops through the snow to inspect the red.
The red rose petals scattered across the snow look so blood-like. Sanji sighs and scoops them up, turning around to hold them up. “Roses!” He announces with relief. “See? Nothing to worry about –”
Zoro dark glare and flexing muscles catch him off guard long before he hears the swish of air behind him. He freezes, the petals falling from his hand as green vines encroach on his vision from both sides. He knows better than to move when Zoro is approaching, Kitetsu drawn, snow spraying as he sends a few precise flying slashes ahead of himself.
The flying slashes skim past Sanji, whipping up his hair. Slices of green vines scatter into the snow and Sanji hurries forward, spinning around to face the attacker.
The woman is beautiful, her long, silky dark hair full of colorful flowers. The smell of a full bouquet wafts over him. Those thorny vines coiled at her heels like snakes will rip his skin to shreds, but Sanji briefly desires her to wrap them around him and reel him in anyway.
Her soft chuckle at his love-struck gaze is cut off by the sing of steel as Zoro swipes his blade to his side in warning.
“Go.” Zoro orders, flipping the blade in his hand and drawing the second.
“Precious.” Clovers grow wherever her feet touch, spilling out from under the snow. Her voice is silky smooth and her skin looks as soft as the rose petals scattered in the snow. But those thorny vines pull up and coil tightly to strike. “Pirates looking for treasure?”
Sanji backs toward Nami, reaching for her. He can spot more people moving in the forest. If he leans sideways, he can see a ship peeking out from around the forested mountains on the other side of the island. There is no pirate emblem.
“Cook, go.” Zoro growls. “Warn the others.”
“The famed former bounty hunter recognizes his kind,” the woman says, her bare feet nestling into the snow. The vines sweep over the soft white. “Yes, run along. Let them know the fun is over. There is no treasure here. Not for you, anyway.”
Bounty hunter.
“Go!” Zoro orders.
Zoro is right. Sanji can’t fight her. The smell of flowers is almost too much to overcome, but he forces himself to turn around and pull Nami with him. Zoro can handle himself. Sanji hears the swordsman draw his third sword, no further pleasantries exchanged as the flower woman attacks him. If Sanji sticks around, he’ll only become a liability.
His legs are much longer than Nami’s. Sanji scoops her over his shoulder and runs as fast as he can. Sanji doesn’t dare turn around, listening to the sounds of metal slicing through plant flesh until he’s too far away to hear it.
The crew is in sight. “Luffy! ” Sanji hollers. Movement at the edge of the forest catches his eye, and he spots the rest of the bounty hunters emerging. One takes the lead, rocks flying from the ground to cover his body.
Usopp looks up from his snowman and shrieks, scrambling backwards as he rummages for his slingshot. Chopper screams too, hiding behind Usopp. Robin calmly puts down her book and stands up on deck, crossing her arms. Luffy doesn’t hesitate to rocket himself toward the rock-wielding devil-fruit user, fists flying. His rubber body is unbothered by the rocks, blasting them away with punches as quickly as the man can rebuild his armor.
Sanji deposits Nami with Usopp and sheds his jacket, tossing it down and running after Luffy. It’s difficult to maneuver in the snow, taking extra energy to push through. He jumps and kicks, targeting the lackeys.
“Oi, Sanji! Where’s Zoro!” Luffy sends the rock man flying and lands in the snow, looking over.
Sanji ducks a sword and kicks its owner into the forest and out of sight. “Fighting their leader, I think!”
Rocks fly out from under the snow and spiral around him. Sanji ducks down to avoid them, spinning his leg to throw up snow. He jumps up kicks a flying rock, sending it hurtling into the forest. Someone yelps on impact, and the rest of the rocks tumble to the ground around him. It doesn’t take long for them to rise up again though. The rock man emerges from the forest, building himself new armor until he’s twenty feet tall, swinging rock arms toward them. Sanji dives out of the way of the boulder swinging at him.
Luffy dodges punches and scrambles up the rock man. A shot from Usopp explodes against the rock man’s leg, and the man stumbles sideways. Luffy winds up his fist and punches at a gap in the rocky helmet, sending chunks flying.
The smell of roses is blending with something sharper. Sanji wrinkles his nose and moves away from the rock man, deciding it best to leave that to Luffy.
Any good chef has a good nose. And if any food gave off that smell, he would throw it in the sea.
He has to get back there, against his better judgment; if that woman attacks him he won't be able to hurt her. Zoro is a good match for her with his three swords, but –
Sanji shakes his head. He has to focus. If he could glimpse into Zoro’s thoughts and caught the swordsman worrying about him like this, he would murder that green-haired menace. Sanji grinds his cigarette between his teeth and focuses on mowing down the little troupe of bounty hunters. Luffy is handling the rock man, so Sanji can handle the rest of the men and keep them from getting to the other crew members. Robin is helping from afar, elegant as always as she cracks backs and snaps necks.
Barely does the last man fall that Sanji is running. He enters the forest as fast as he can, spitting out his finished cigarette and following the scent of poison.
That lovely bouquet smell is completely overpowered by something far more potent. Gone are the roses, though petals ride the breeze as he runs. Under the reek of poison, he smells blood.
Lots of blood. Sanji sprints even though it hurts. He can hear the crew far behind him, chattering as they start to follow in confusion.
Sanji bursts out of the forest, his speed hindered by the deepened snow but pushing forward. The snow is smattered with red, but he can already tell the blood from the red petals. Green leaves and slices of vines are scattered over the snow. He spots Zoro first, the swordsman flicking blood from his swords as he staggers in entirely the wrong direction. His shirt is covered in blood.
“Mosshead!” Sanji calls, catching his breath and moving quickly again. He can already tell from here that the swordsman is pretty cut up, but it’s nothing worse than what he’s suffered in past battles. Nothing Chopper, some rest, and a double portion of onigiri can’t fix. Sanji looks around and spots a body half-submerged in the snow. He flings his stare away from it. “Moss, time to go!”
Zoro turns around, pulling the bandana off his head. He sways dangerously, his shirt barely clinging together. The fabric over his chest is sliced to pieces, his arms and legs equally shredded. His cheek and neck are cut, but Sanji can't tell how deep from here.
“Crew’s waiting.” Sanji hurries closer. “Finished the job?”
“Yup,” Zoro rasps. His eyes aren’t locking onto Sanji properly, rather looking through him as they try and fail to focus. Blood drips onto the snow around him and melts it. His leg falters as if losing the strength to push through the snow, and he topples forward.
Sanji is too far away to catch him, but the snow cushions the swordsman’s slow collapse. Zoro slumps into it and starts to sink, bleeding readily into the white. Sanji closes the distance all too slowly and grabs Zoro’s arm to pull him up, turning the swordsman over. Zoro moans quietly, but he already sounds half asleep. The smell of poison is almost unbearable, its potency enough to make his eyes water.
Zoro’s white shirt is soaked with blood, the red mixed faintly with bright yellow. The source is a giant curled thorn the size of a knife buried deep in Zoro’s left shoulder, the sliced remains of a vine dangling from it.
“Zoro?” Sanji pulls Zoro’s arm around his neck. “Come on, you can pass out when we get back to the Merry. You’re too heavy for me to carry.”
He’s seen Zoro shredded to pieces in Alabasta by Mr. One, bleeding dangerously but still fighting. Not even getting cleaved in half by Mihawk was enough to keep him down for long.
“Wake up,” Sanji growls worriedly. “Zoro, I’m not in the mood.”
Zoro doesn't rise to the bait, panting and loose in Sanji's arms. His body is so goddamn heavy, but not too heavy to carry. Sanji pulls the bandana from Zoro’s limp hand and shoves it into his pocket. Then he hoists Zoro onto his back, and shouts.
“Chopper! ”