Archive of Our Own

Zoro was dragged back from blissful unconsciousness by a pounding headache, which was not an uncommon occurrence. So, what was the reason this time, fighting or drinking? Still barely awake, he cast his mind back and came up curiously blank. Last he could recall, they’d had a few days of smooth sailing after leaving Water Seven.  Then, they’d been… approaching a new island? Maybe? And then… nothing. Or at least nothing that made any sense. He could just barely remember dropping anchor somewhere not far from shore. A beach? Or a harbour? Everything after that was a blurry mess.

Alright, so nothing on that front. Time to try a different strategy. Suppressing a groan, he hauled his consciousness up to a higher level and tried to take stock of his surroundings, deciding not to chance opening his eyes just yet. There was a hard surface pressed to his back. Hm, could still be both drinking and fighting. Somehow his hands had gotten caught up behind him, which was kind of uncomfortable, what with his whole bodyweight pressing down on- Huh. The pressure on his arms was annoying, but not as much as he would have expected if he was laying on them. Something was wrong with his mental image, but he was having an oddly hard time getting his sluggish thoughts to figure it out. Now was that a point in the drinking or the fighting column? What was he doing again?

As if it’d been waiting for him to get distracted, his sense of balance came back with a vengeance, closely followed by a churning feeling in his stomach and cold sweat breaking out all over his body. Gravity reasserted itself and the situation in his mind’s eye rotated by ninety degrees. Apparently, he was standing up and leaning back against something? What he’d first thought was his own bodyweight dragging him to the floor instead seemed to be something heavy pinning him to a wall at chest height. That was weird, but easily solvable. Zoro tensed his muscles, preparing to get rid of the burden.

“Don’t you dare move, shithead,” a familiar voice called out from somewhere near his left shoulder.

Zoro’s eyes flew open at the same time as a nearly instinctive reaction caused him to do the exact opposite, trying to pull his arms from behind his back with a jerk. The movement came up short after only a few centimetres. At the same time, something hard – a head? – collided painfully with his temple, while sudden shouting very close to his left ear nearly caused his eardrum to burst.

“SHIT! Shitshitshitshitshit, BACK, GO BACK, I’M SERIOUS!”

Zoro turned to glare at Sanji and mostly succeeded in getting a mouthful of blond hair. Spitting and sputtering, he tried to ask what the fucking problem was, but the only thing that came out of his mouth was an unintelligible gurgle as his tongue refused to cooperate. Probably heavy drinking then, or a heavy concussion. Interactions with the cook could result in both of those, so that checked out.

Another shove derailed his train of thought. “Come ON! Just once in in your life do as you’re told AND MOVE YOUR SHITTY ARMS BACK!”

Finally, the desperation in Sanji’s voice pierced through the fog in his mind and Zoro released the tension on whatever had arrested his movement, moving back until each wrist was once again loosely pressed to the opposite elbow.

Sanji’s head dropped forward onto his shoulder with a half-suppressed groan and Zoro felt a tiny shiver run through the cook’s frame where they were pressed chest to chest. Which was… what the fuck? That must have been some really heavy drinking. “What are you doing, curly? Get off me!” This time it came out slurred, but at least mostly understandable.

“Can you stand?”

“Huh?” Zoro’s brain felt like it was lagging about half a second behind whatever was happening here. Why wouldn’t he be able to stand? He was standing right now!

“Can you stand on your own?! And think closely before answering, if you drop to the floor like a wet piece of kelp the moment I let go, I’ll… I’ll bite your fucking ear off!”

Not one of Sanji’s best threats, but he seemed to only be going through the motions of their usual banter, clearly distracted by something else.

“Of course I can,” Zoro answered, only to immediately regret it when the weight bracing his upper body disappeared and he felt his legs begin to buckle. Out of sheer stubbornness to prove Sanji’s doubts unfounded, he managed to tilt his body backwards so that instead of sliding to the ground in a heap, he caught himself leaning back against the wall with locked knees. There was another tug at his wrists and a visible wince from Sanji as he came to rest a few centimetres lower than before.

“It’ll do,” Sanji said with a grimace on his still much too close face. “Now look down and to the right. Not that it matters, either side is fine I guess.”

Zoro did as asked and tried to make sense of what he was seeing. Sanji had mostly righted himself, so there was a slight gap between their bodies. Down near the floor, Zoro could just make out the glint of something metal wrapped around his ankles in the dim lighting, with further shimmers leading toward Sanji hinting at some kind of chain or rope. Sanji’s hands were braced on the wall on either side of Zoro at about elbow height, leaving him slightly hunched over. Looped tightly around Sanji’s left wrist was what was at this distance definitely recognizable as a steel cable. It had bitten into the skin far enough that there were a few drops of blood gathering around the edge before dripping slowly to the floor. One end of the cable was attached to a heavy bolt driven into the wall about a metre to Zoro’s right, while the other disappeared into the darkness between Zoro’s back and the wall.

With a sense of foreboding, Zoro adjusted his right arm so that the tension on his wrist intensified, while keeping a close eye on Sanji’s left. Nothing happened.

“Wrong side, mossy.” Sanji gave a sharp jerk with the wrist he was looking at, causing another spatter of blood to hit the ground.

Zoro felt a tug at his left arm. A quick glance showed the same setup on the opposite side. “WHAT THE HELL?! What did you do, shitty cook?!”

Sanji scoffed. “I didn’t do anything except follow you when you let yourself be drugged and kidnapped by a random group of upstart marines. The guy in charge is apparently a sadistic asshole, so now this” – he moved his left arm – “is attached to your left wrist, and this” – he jiggled his right – “to your right. I’m guessing you can’t just flex your shitty muscles and burst the shackles, so if you wanna get your arms to the front you’ll have to pull on the rope, which will – as you’re presently demonstrating, thanks for that – tighten those loops around my wrists. Since I’m pretty attached to my hands, I’d appreciate you STOPPING THAT RIGHT NOW!”

Zoro scowled, but contracted the muscles in his back and shoulders and slid his forearms up the wall until he felt the tension on both wrists slacken slightly.

Sanji’s posture visibly relaxed and a check to both sides revealed that the wire had loosened so as to not cut into his skin any longer. Still seemed pretty tight though, and the blood was running more freely now that the pressure was off.

“Can’t you just kick the cable or the wall or something?”

“HA! How haven’t I thought of that before! The amazing marimo to the rescue, you have the best ideas! You want me to kick the wall? It would be my pleasure!” Sanji sounded slightly hysterical as he lifted his leg to gather the necessary momentum.

Immediately, Zoro felt something pull tight around his ankle.

Sanji stopped with his foot raised only a few centimetres from the floor. “Want me to keep going, huh?”

Zoro squinted into the gloom down below. The slight blurriness to his vision had been improving steadily and what had earlier been a barely distinguishable shimmer resolved itself into two steel cables identical to the ones above. Each wire was looped around one of his ankles and lead to a heavy manacle wrapped around Sanji’s, with the left being stretched taught by Sanji’s raised leg. Shifting slightly revealed a sturdy bolt anchoring the opposite end of the cables to the wall behind Zoro’s heels, limiting their movement to a very tight range.

“That’s… not great.”

Sanji resettled onto both feet. “No shit! ‘Not great’ has to be the understatement of the century. Any other bright ideas, mosshead?”

“Why’d they take our shoes?” If this ‘sadistic guy in charge’ had arranged for that with the intention to remove any possible protection his boots would have offered against the rough surface of the wire, it showed a disturbing attention to detail that did not bode well for the future. On the other hand, he’d have expected to lose even the minimal armour of the fabric of his pants under those circumstances, and that was not the case.

Sanji shrugged. To anyone who hadn’t been paying close attention, he might’ve appeared absolutely calm and collected, but Zoro could see the sweat beading at his temples. “I did kick about half their squad unconscious before they took away our ‘weapons’. Not sure why they got yours as well, might’ve just been to play it safe. Or maybe one of the marines is a collector, who knows.”

Weapons? He hadn’t ever thought of Sanji’s shoes as weapons, pretty certain that most if not all of the cook’s power came from the body inside those shoes, but for someone who hadn’t personally been kicked across a beach in sandals before, it was an easy mistake to make. Also, wasn’t he forgetting about something? Zoro let his gaze drift down once more and felt the blood drain from his face.

“What did you do with my swords?!” He hadn’t even noticed they were gone! Over the years, keeping Wado close had become second nature to him. He could feel its absence like he was missing a limb now that he’d realized. And even though Yubashiri was lying dead and rusted in its sheath and Sandai Kitetsu was still, after all this time, struggling against him every chance it could get, them not having been his first priority when he woke up disturbed him more than the predicament he currently found himself in. Scanning his surroundings showed only a stone room with a closed door at the other end, no swords to be seen. Next to the door, a banner with the Marine emblem and the ever present motto of ‘Justice’ fluttered slightly in an unseen draft, as if taunting him.

“Are you listening, stupid? I said they took our weapons, swords are very easily recognizable as weapons, ergo they’re probably in that shitty captain’s trophy chest.” Zoro could just barely recognize Sanji rolling his eyes at him, but most of the theatrics were lost by being too close to focus on. “With the way he was going on about it, I’m happy they let me keep my legs,” Sanji added nonchalantly.

Zoro suppressed a grimace at how much worse of a situation he could have woken up to. Shunting that imaginary scenario out of his mind as unnecessary, he tried to focus on the first part of what Sanji had said. As much as it pained him to admit it, the cook was right. It was not a huge leap of logic to determine that his swords must’ve been taken by their captors. Usually he would have easily figured that out, but it felt as if his thoughts were slogging through mud. Trying to make sense of this whole chains-and-manacles setup took nearly all his available brain power, and he knew that normally he wouldn’t even have to consciously think about it. Wouldn’t be much of a swordsman if he couldn’t grasp gravity and momentum and movement and stuff intuitively.

Hadn’t Sanji mentioned something about being drugged? That must have been some tranquilizers fit to down a sea king if he could still feel the effects after– “How long was I out for?”

“Long enough to make holding your lazy ass up a pain.” Sanji shifted in place, rolling his shoulders to alleviate an unseen ache. “I’d say this outpost is about half an hour along the coast from that town we were in. I don’t know how you managed to get yourself lost enough to end up at the outskirts from that bar we left you in getting shitfaced, but I saw them dragging your dead weight aboard a cart from a distance and decided to follow out of the goodness of my heart. We’ve been down here for a few hours, maybe five or six?”

Probably not long enough to make the rest of the crew miss them then. Good. If they could get out of here on their own, the others would be none the wiser and he wouldn’t have to endure any badly hidden giggling for getting caught so easily. At least the one who’d usually give him the most shit was in the same boat.

So, how to escape? First of all, he’d have to break through the remaining effects of the drugs as fast as possible. If he managed to clear his mind, coming up with a solution to their predicament would be much easier. Drawing in a deep breath, Zoro closed his eyes and dropped into light meditation. He consciously tried to calm his heart beat and, one by one, focused on each distraction and discarded it.

The coldness of the stone floor beneath his bare feet.

The weight of the shackles around his wrists.

The drag of the wire around his ankles as Sanji shifted his weight.

The anger at being left without his swords.

Sanji’s warm breath ghosting over the skin of his neck.

The tingling sensation along the top of his ears when his thoughts drifted towards the embarrassment of not even putting up a fight against being captured.

The heat emanating from Sanji’s body at such a close distance.

With each breath, he could feel some of the fog lifting and his concentration returning bit by bit. Just a bit mo–

“HEY. No falling back asleep, shitty marimo.” Sanji exclaimed, jabbing an elbow into Zoro’s ribs as far as the cable allowed.

Zoro’s eyes flew open and he bit back a grunt of surprise as his breath left him in a huff. He glared at the top of Sanji’s head, thoroughly thrown off course. “WHAT?”

“You’re awake. Good.”

Did his ears deceive him or was that a hint of relief he detected in Sanji’s voice?

Zoro abandoned any further attempts at meditation, pretty sure he wouldn’t be able to reach the right state of mind anymore. It’d have to be enough. He still wasn’t back to his usual focus, but at least trying to complete a thought did not feel like dragging Usopp onto a strange new island any longer.

He readied himself to flex his muscles and break the manacles by pressure alone – it was not that unlikely, no matter what Sanji’d said before – when there was a sudden movement of the steel rope. Zoro checked his posture to make sure that he hadn’t unintentionally put tension on it. No, his stance was the same as before, each wrist closely held to the opposite elbow, pressing the cold steel of the shackle into his skin. The wire was as slack as it could be without Zoro contorting himself into an uncomfortable shape.

There it was again, a similar movement. This time Zoro caught Sanji rotating his joints from the corner of his eye. Upon closer inspection the earlier shiver had become intermittent tremors that ran through the cook’s body every few seconds. The cook was coiled tight, still forced to bend down slightly to accommodate the position of his wrists.

“You alright?”

“Fine,” Sanji replied tersely.

Caught off guard by the sudden lack of complaining and shouting, Zoro frowned. Sanji not going off on a lengthy tirade the first chance he got was usually a sign of something being seriously wrong. “I can see you shaking.”

“You try holding up a shitty gorilla for half a day without the use of any of your limbs, and then we’ll talk about shaking. I’m fine,” Sanji dismissed.

“Sure you are.” He didn’t look fine. And if they wanted to have any chance of escaping, the cook needed to be able to fight. If it were Chopper or Usopp, Zoro would have offered to prop them up without a second thought and they’d have no scruples accepting. Luffy would have flopped forward ages ago without even asking. With Sanji, everything was more complicated. “Bet I can carry your weight for a day without trouble, curly.” Obvious, but hopefully it’d give the cook the needed plausible deniability.

Sanji raised an eyebrow in disbelief. He seemed to hesitate for a second, then averted his gaze and said with disdain, “I’ll believe it when I see it.”

There was a minute of silence as the shaking got worse. Then, Zoro could almost see him throwing up his hands in disgusted capitulation, even though it was impossible at the moment. Sanji shuffled reluctantly closer until he was back to leaning against Zoro’s chest. One by one his muscles released, until he’d relaxed as much as possible while still remaining on his feet.

“I can still bite your ear off if you give me shit for this, so don’t you fucking dare say anything,” Sanji mumbled before resting his forehead on Zoro’s shoulder with visible reluctance.

Good. Now that he didn’t have to worry about the cook’s tendency to let his pride overrule his reason anymore, he could finally focus on getting out of here. Zoro gathered his concentration, took a deep breath and–

“So, mosshead, what’s the plan?”

Once again, the cook managed to prove why he was the most annoying creature on the planet. Obviously, Zoro would not get any further without first shutting Sanji up. The logical way to do that would be drawing a sword, but since he currently was in possession of exactly zero of those and could not move without causing a bloodbath, he’d unfortunately have to use his words.

“I’ll burst the manacles around my wrists, if you let me concentrate for even a second without whining. So shut up, cook.”

Sanji just shrugged. “I wasn’t being serious when I said that, but give it a try. I’ve heard Robin-chan mention that tree roots can destroy pretty much anything that gets in their way given enough time, so in a few years when you grow big and strong you might have a chance.”

Apparently even the awkward position could not keep the cook from spouting nonsense, but since he’d had the last word, there might just be a few seconds of undisturbed silence. Alright. Deep breath. Concentrate. “Hnnngh!” Zoro tensed his arms with all his might, the muscles in his forearms swelling until they were constrained by heavy steel. He could feel the veins bulging on his forehead and sweat breaking out all over his body. The metal did not even creak, remaining as solid as ever. Zoro resisted the temptation to once again tug on the cables in frustration and eked out a tiny bit more power. Still, the metal did not budge. After a few more seconds of unsuccessful straining, he released the tension with a groan. So much for that plan.

“Awww, don’t worry, Marimo-kun, every tree starts out as a little sapling like you!”

That Sanji was still mumbling into his collar bone instead of teasing with his typical enthusiasm did not keep Zoro from wanting to strangle him. “Don’t see you contributing anything here, idiot cook.”

Sanji went from leaning against Zoro's chest to abruptly shifting back into as much of a confrontational stance as he could manage. “I did. I tried to get your unconscious ass out of there before we even got inside the base! I tried to keep them from chaining us up! I tried to wake you up for hours! I tried to keep you from falling and taking my fucking hands off! I tried to kick the wall! I tried to kick the shackles! I tried to kick the wire! I tried to kick the fucking floor! I tried to get out of this, but there’s just no way! I TRIED, ALRIGHT?!”

By the end of this tirade, Sanji was bright red in the face and shouting.

The door at the other end of the cell crashed open with a loud clang. “Well, well, well, what do we have here? Trouble in paradise?”

In strode what Zoro was pretty sure was the least intimidating Marine captain he’d ever encountered. The man had mousy slicked-back hair, a slimy grin on his face and was so thin his coat looked like it was trying to swallow him whole. As if to make up for his less then imposing stature, he was closely followed by four grunts who would not have been out of place in a bodybuilder competition, two of which took up guard positions to either side of the door, while the other two trailed their leader to the centre of the room. The captain put his hands on his hips and struck a pose, clearly expecting an answer.

Zoro gave him his best glare in response. Wouldn’t do to let on that he was bothered by any of this. That was usually the way to go with types like this, appear as unfazed as possible so they’d get flustered and make a mistake.

The cook had apparently never heard of that strategy, because he took a deep breath, twisted around as far as possible, and continued his shouting over his shoulder. “AND YOU! YOU SHITTY BASTARD! WHAT THE FUCK DO YOU THINK YOU’RE DOING?!”

As expected, the marines were not intimidated by this display. The boss guy only smirked at Sanji’s outburst and replied in a mock innocent voice, “Oh no, are you not happy with the accommodations we’ve provided? I’m so sorry! I only wanted to ensure that neither of you got lonely while we wait for the ship, since you seemed so close before. But I’ll make sure to let HQ know to set up separate scaffolds for your execution, if that’s more to your liking.”

Another idiot who liked to hear himself talk, great. Zoro checked the marines for weapons while the senseless drivel continued. “…justice…” Basic swords on the door guys. “…great achievement…” Another pair of swords on the lackeys in front. “…noble sacrifice…” Sword on the captain’s belt, but he could have hidden a whole arsenal beneath that coat. “…really quite heart-warming.” What? Zoro refocused in time to see the windbag wipe a fake tear from his cheek.

“IT WAS NOT HEART-WARMING!” Seemed like the cook hadn’t gotten tired of shouting yet. 

“You don’t think so?” The captain stepped closer, still keeping up the fake friendly act. “Don’t sell yourself short. A knight in shining armour…” Another step. “…appearing at the last second to save the damsel in distress, only to sacrifice himself to save his life!” He leaned forward to stage whisper in Sanji’s ear, the smile suddenly turning into a malicious grin. “If only the two of you weren’t filthy pirate scum, it’d almost be romantic.”

He was just starting in on some truly evil cackling when Zoro’s headbutt hit him in the face. With a pained shout and a burst of blood, the marine staggered back, his nose obviously broken. Zoro grimaced. Trying to keep his hands and feet fixed to the spot had taken some of the power out of his attack, he’d been hoping for a caved in skull or at least to knock him unconscious.

The two grunts in front appeared unsure if they should draw their swords or help their superior, but after a few moments decided to take the choice that let them keep a safe distance from their captives and dragged the captain out of reach. Swearing up a storm and holding his bloody nose, the man sent Zoro a hateful glare that did not bode well for the future. “You should not have done that. You really shouldn’t have.” He shook off his two helpers and gestured them forward imperiously. “You two! Grab the cables! If this lowlife tries anything, pull as hard as you can!”

“Yes, sir, Captain Merrow!” The goons did as commanded, taking up the far ends of the wires to each side near the bolts so that there was no way of reaching them with an attack.

Zoro could not suppress a growl as the tension on his arms increased, causing Sanji to stagger forward into his chest with a pained shout. Arching his back and pressing his elbows together until his shoulder joints started to protest, Zoro tried to accommodate the additional strain put on their precarious position. Apparently the two men were a bit trigger happy in following this command, tightening whatever minuscule bit of slack there had been in the cables pre-emptively. Internally cursing their placement to both sides of him, as it was not very conducive to intimidation if the aggressor had to keep swivelling his head to face his targets, he chose to focus his ire on the right-hand marine. Zoro gave him his best glare and sinister grin combo. “I will kill you either way when we get out of here, but if you keep that up, I will make it last.”

The man swallowed nervously, chanced a glance at his commanding officer who was still occupied trying to stem the torrent of blood spattering his previously impeccably maintained white uniform, and relaxed his grip slightly. Immediately the stress on Zoro’s upper body decreased from slightly painful to only very inconvenient. Sanji let out what Zoro privately thought was a whimper of relief where his face was pressed into Zoro’s shoulder, even though the cook would surely never admit it. Fresh blood welled up from where the wire had once again cut into Sanji’s wrists and dripped slowly to the floor. Those wounds weren’t looking great. And the shaking was back, Zoro realized, though some of that might have been transmitted along the steel cable from the marine who looked to be close to pissing his pants.

They really had to get out of here, and soon. And Zoro still did not have a plan that did not involve either him or Sanji losing at least one limb, which was not a solution he was willing to entertain just yet. Zoro usually did not tend towards freaking out when it came to being stuck in weird places – or at all to be honest – but the serious danger the two of them were in was slowly dawning on him.

As if to agree with this assessment, Sanji mumbled a wholehearted “Fuck, this sucks.” into the fabric of Zoro’s shirt. “Anymore bright ideas? I’m all ears,” he added quietly enough that the other people in the cell probably couldn’t understand. There was a hint of desperation in his voice and he was breathing deeply, quite obviously trying to keep calm.

“Working on it,” Zoro replied. And he was, wracking his brain for a way to get at one of the swords or at least get the marines to leave the room so that they could somehow break out of the manacles without an audience. If Sanji chose to interpret this as Zoro ‘working on the successful execution of a brilliant plan’ instead of ‘working on finding a plan’, all the better. So, swords. The two at the door were out of the question by distance alone, the two at the chains were closer, but also likely to pull on reflex if he even breathed in their direction. And still too far away to grab at without seriously injuring the cook’s hands. That left the captain. Merrow had been stupid enough to approach into reach once already, maybe he would do so again? His sword looked more ornamental than battle-tested, but it was better than nothing. But how to get him to make the same mistake twice? He was on his guard now, as evidenced by his two subordinates ready to punish any step out of line. And even if he did come closer, Zoro still had not figured out a way to actually grab the weapon.

“Seeing as you’re not appreciative of the hospitality we’ve provided, I’m unfortunately going to have to teach you some manners before your transport gets here,” the marine officer interrupted, apparently done with both bleeding all over his shirt and being ignored. Zoro had to reluctantly admit that he looked much more threatening with a trail of red down his front and a manic grin on his face. There was a sadistic glee on his face that paid tribute to Sanji’s earlier assessment of his character.

To make his psychopathic tendencies even more obvious, Merrow reached beneath his coat and pulled out a knife. This, as opposed to the sword, looked like it had seen some actual use. The handle was wrapped in worn leather strips, but the blade’s edge looked well sharpened to Zoro. It seemed a little short for a combat knife, but the marine held it in a comfortable grip. Not a lot of reach, but Zoro could work with that if he could get his hands - or teeth - on it.

“Alright, no funny business now, you two! Just keep calm and we’ll get this over with quickly.”

Zoro could not believe his luck as the man stepped closer once more. Was he really that stupid?

“Stay sharp!” The captain bellowed at his two lackeys. “Don’t let them move a single muscle!”

Evidently he was not that stupid. Even the shaking guard to their right straightened up again and kept a close eye.

Still, this was the chance he’d been waiting for. As the knife-wielding maniac advanced, Zoro braced himself for incoming pain. The best time to grab the blade would be when it was as close as possible, which translated to waiting until it was cutting into his skin. Fortunately, their positioning meant that most of his body was covered by the cook’s, so whatever the captain planned to do in revenge, it’d probably be aimed at his face. The guy also seemed like he’d be an enthusiastic advocate of ‘an eye for an eye’, or more like ‘a nose for a nose’ in this case, making this angle of attack even more likely. Although usually taking the risk of facial wounds was not a great plan, all this meant to Zoro at the moment was that the knife would be in reach of his teeth.

“Stay quiet and don’t move,” Zoro murmured towards the weight on his shoulder, hoping against hope that for once the cook would just listen. There was a noticeable tensing of muscles, but otherwise no reaction. Sanji must have believed him when he’d pretended to have a plan. Well, he had one now, and the cook was none the wiser to his deceit.

Another step closer. Zoro narrowed his eyes and focused in on the approaching blade, blocking out his surroundings. The timing was crucial. React too late and he ran the possibility of getting seriously hurt, which would not help anyone. React too soon and the marine might pull back in time, making him miss his chance.

One more step. Merrow raised the knife. Zoro unclenched his jaw in preparation for the bite.

Then, the man brought the weapon down in a slashing motion, which was immediately followed by a pained yelp.

What?

That hadn’t been remotely close enough to cut into his skin, much less attempt making a grab for. Was the guy just fucking with him and had hurt himself in the process? He didn’t seem like the type to not follow through on his threats.

Vicious swearing at around shoulder height clued him in that he had missed something.

“YOU SHITTY UNDERFED SEASLUG! When I get out of here, I will kick you so hard that they’ll have to look for your body on the next island over if they wanna bury you! No, EVEN BETTER, they’ll have to collect you from MULTIPLE DIFFERENT ISLANDS!”

Looking down past Sanji’s shoulder showed that the back of the ever-present suit jacket and the shirt beneath had been cut from collar to the top of his pants. A quickly spreading red stain revealed that his skin had not escaped the same fate either.

Zoro growled. “What’s that for, asshole?!”

“As I said, just teaching you some manners.” The marine smirked.

“The only ones who need to be desperately taught some manners are you shitty marines! Even the marimo brute hasn’t sunk far enough to senselessly attack prisoners. And I know that it might be hard for you to remember, since you apparently have the brain capacity of a goldfish, but it wasn’t me who caved in your face, much as I wish I’d taken the damn opportunity when it presented itself. Or maybe you just have bad aim? We’re standing pretty closely together, but I expected you to at least be able to hit an unmoving target. I did not think it was possible, but marine standards must have sunk even lower for you to be a ranking officer with skills like that. Either way, the sweaty parts belong to mossy over here, you know, the one who broke your nose, if you wanna give it another try.”

“Thanks for the vote of confidence, cook.” Zoro was pretty sure he hadn’t yet attacked any prisoners at all, senselessly or not. But who knew what the future might bring, catching this savage and then cutting him down was looking more tempting by the minute. Would that count as attacking a prisoner, if the guy was captive barely long enough to realize he’d lost before he died?

“No, no, you misunderstand, Blackleg,” Merrow calmly replied to Sanji’s little speech, evidently undaunted by the bravado. “I thought since you were so eager to give yourself up to save his life, I’d give Roronoa a chance to return the favour.”

“You did WHAT?!” That was the second time evil boss guy had babbled about some kind of sacrifice on Sanji’s part, even Zoro could not ignore the blatant hinting any longer. Although his exclamation probably was exactly what the marine had been waiting for, judging by the way his manic grin got wider still.

Sanji leaned back as far as possible, slightly panicked eyes trying to catch Zoro’s gaze. “It wasn’t like that, don’t let it go to your head, shithead! I just followed you to make sure you’d make it back to the ship on time and was taken by surprise!” It looked like it physically pained the cook to admit even that much.

“Are you sure?” their opponent inquired curiously, tapping the tip of his knife on his chin like he was considering this version of events. It left an additional smear of blood amongst the leftover splatters from his earlier nose bleed. “I seem to remember you fighting quite furiously to rescue your crewmate, only to yield immediately when we put a sword to his throat. I’m really quite certain that’s how it happened, it’s hard to forget such a touching display.”

The cook opened his mouth to refute that claim, but only a slight wheeze came out as the sharp edge of the blade had suddenly found its way to beneath his chin, pressing in with enough force to dent the skin slightly but not yet break it.

“Maybe this’ll jog your memory.” Merrow had stepped forward and was pressed against Sanji’s back, staring at Zoro from over the cook’s shoulder. “I was holding Roronoa’s unconscious, helpless body like this, so there was really nothing else you could do. A wise decision.” Although the man was talking to Sanji, the captain’s gaze was completely focused on Zoro, seemingly searching for some kind of reaction. Meanwhile Sanji had gone slightly red, looking torn between embarrassment and anger.

Zoro scowled, but otherwise restrained himself. The knife was now definitely close enough to seize, but he couldn’t risk it. A slight twitch of the wrist could cut the cook’s throat, and there was no coming back from that without some serious medical intervention, which was currently unavailable.

The knife pressed in deeper, causing a slight trickle of blood to join the smears already on the blade. Sanji winced, pulling back even further only to come up short against the restraints. Zoro glared, but did not move.

Merrow, apparently satisfied with what he was seeing, smirked. “Great! I’m pretty sure we both know what’s going on, but I wouldn’t want anybody to get hurt because of a misunderstanding. So, to make it even more blatantly obvious what’s happening here: You…,” he scraped the edge of the knife in Zoro’s direction, taking a thin layer of skin off the cook’s chin in the process. “…will not move. If I see you even twitch, I will leave you to wait here for the transport with Blackleg’s corpse as company. I’ll get a promotion for catching you either way, no matter if I deliver you alive or dead. Am I understood?” Even though he was still grinning menacingly, his eyes were deadly serious as he waited for an answer.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing, you creepy weirdo?!” Sanji evidently had the self-preservation instincts of a boar running straight at Luffy when he hadn’t had lunch yet.

Metal flashed and a bright line of blood appeared along the cook’s cheek. Within a fraction of a second the blade was back at his throat, leaving no opening to exploit. Merrow let his smile drop. “This lesson is not for you, so shut it, Blackleg. You had your moment of dramatic glory earlier. I don’t want to hear a single sound out of you. In fact, if I hear another peep out of you, your situation is going to become much, much worse.”

Zoro once again revised his estimation of the threat Merrow posed. So far, he’d expected to easily best the man if he somehow managed to get out of these manacles, but that cut had shown a surprising amount of skill. There was no superfluous motion, no hesitation, perfect control from an angle that allowed only for limited visibility. He felt his posture tense at the realisation that there might be a challenging fight waiting in his future, the usual excitement combining with the apprehension of their less than stellar odds and the aftermath of the drugs to churn in his stomach.

Sanji, of course, either didn’t recognize the danger he was in, or simply did not care. “As if I give a shit about your shitty threats! Do your wor-” He blanched and cut himself off. Glancing down, Zoro saw that the tip of the knife was slowly pushing into the flesh beneath his right collarbone, dangerously close to the joint. Zoro knew from experience that getting stuck there hurt like hell, the pain radiating outwards until even moving a single finger felt like setting the whole length of his arm on fire. Still, one look at the cook’s face showed that he was not done being his usual obstinate self.

Panicking slightly, Zoro threw out a “He’ll be quiet!” to head off what was about to come out of Sanji’s mouth. It just didn’t make any sense to aggravate their captor further as long as they were completely at his mercy! And if anything, the thought of the cook getting seriously hurt in revenge for something Zoro had done made him want to scream and shout at Merrow himself, even though he knew that their best bet was to keep calm and go along with this fucked up game of his until an opportunity to escape presented itself.

“The fuck I will, shitty marimo! What makes you think that I’ll just stand here quietly while some shitty upstart marine gets his rocks off?!”

The knife pushed in another centimetre. Sweat was starting to drip down Sanji’s face. Merrow looked on in fascination as Zoro struggled to find a way to get the cook to shut up, since apparently common sense wasn’t sufficient. “I’ll– I’ll keep out of the liquor storage for a week if you’ll stop talking.”

“What the hell? Why would that–?” Merrow twisted the weapon slightly, causing Sanji to rise up on his toes and grimace.

“A month.”

“What are you doing, mosshead?” Another twist. A steady stream of blood was being absorbed by the dark fabric of the suit jacket.

“A year? Come on, cook, please be quiet!”

Sanji must’ve caught on to the note of desperation in Zoro’s voice because he did not reply verbally, only threw him a half-hearted glare, his brow furrowed in confusion.

Then there was silence. Zoro sighed in relief.

“Are you done?” Merrow’s smirk was back. “I’d like to point out that whichever liquor storage you’re talking about won’t be reachable from prison anyway, or even less so from beyond the veil, but as long as it gets me the desired results you can make as many inane agreements as you want.”

Sanji opened his mouth to reply, seemingly unable to resist throwing barbs at a man who talked nearly as much as he did, then shut it again with a harsh clack of teeth.

“He can learn after all!” the marine exclaimed in mock astonishment. “Good.” With that, he removed the knife and left a sluggishly bleeding wound behind. Sanji’s pained yelp at the motion was caught behind the hand that Merrow had placed over his mouth at the same time. “I’ll let that one go, because I don’t want all your hard bargaining to go to waste, Roronoa. But you’d better control yourself from now on, Blackleg, or we’ll be right back to where we started.”

The marine took a step back, rolling his shoulders as if to limber up for what was coming. “So, to sum it up: You,” he pointed the knife at Sanji’s back, “quiet. You,” he raised the blade to Zoro’s eye level,” don’t move. I don’t care if you talk, as long as you keep that one shut up. Understand?”

Sanji gave Zoro a piercing look, scrunched up his face in a grimace of obvious distaste, and gave a sharp nod.

Zoro ground out a “Yes, I understand.” between grit teeth. He’d do his utmost, as long as it was in their best interest. But if the cook decided that being annoying and snarky was more important to him than his own life, the only choice would probably be to somehow knock him unconscious. And then catch him before he fell over and ripped his hands off. So yeah, not a great option, but as a last resort he had to keep it in mind. Would he be able to keep Sanji upright by holding onto his collar with his teeth? Possibly, if the fabric held up to the weight.

“Then we can finally get on with this, amazing!” Merrow sounded put upon, as if this was an arduous task he’d been waiting to complete, but to Zoro’s keen eyes the tension in his frame betrayed his excitement. This was a man that was looking forward to sating a deep-seated desire. Some kind of madness or just plain old sadism, as the cook had predicted? Neither bode well for them, as neither left any room for bargaining. They’d just have to tough it out for now.

“You! Get me some room to work!” The officer gestured to one of the soldiers guarding the door, who immediately approached and gripped the fabric to both sides of the cut Merrow had made on Sanji’s back earlier. Then, with a yank, the grunt pulled his hands apart, ripping the collars and leaving both shirt and jacket in tatters that barely clung to the cook’s shoulders, baring most of his back. Zoro could nearly feel the aura of furious anger radiating from Sanji at this disrespectful handling of his clothes, but for the time being the cook apparently managed to swallow down his rage.

Done with his task, the soldier stepped back towards the entrance. Zoro adjusted his weight slightly as he turned, but a twitch to his right and a corresponding jangle of metal behind his back reminded him that there were two more guys directly threatening to injure both himself and Sanji greatly if he stepped out of line, even if Merrow weren’t watching them like a hawk. His slight hesitation cost him his chance, and half a second later the soldier’s sword was once again out of reach. Shit. Why was he so distracted as to let an opportunity like that slip through his fingers? There must still be some remnant of the drugs in his system, making him sluggish.

Merrow approached and brushed some of the fabric aside, clearing Sanji’s left shoulder blade. Then he brandished the knife and started to cut, intently focused on what he was doing.

A shudder went through the cook’s shoulders and Zoro grit his teeth to somehow keep a lid on his fury. Looking down, he could just about make out Sanji biting his lip to ensure no sound could escape. It felt wrong. It was deeply wrong to not hear an accompanying stream of swear words while he could see that the cook was obviously suffering. Zoro had never once heard him whine or complain about being injured, which he’d valued as one of Sanji’s more redeeming qualities so far, but now he’d have taken even that over this oppressive quiet.

Merrow, taking his time, removed the blade from flesh and gave his work an appreciative once over. “This is looking good! Thank you for being so accommodating, Blackleg!” And he gave Zoro a wide smile that was brimming with malice.

Zoro could see the cook’s lips moving soundlessly, apparently unable to keep himself in check without this slight amount of release. Judging from the way Sanji was glaring up at him, at least half of whatever was not being said were insults aimed at Zoro’s stupidity and general state of existence. He would never admit it out loud, but Zoro couldn’t help but regret not being able to find out which new taunts he’d come up with. They always got more creative the angrier Sanji was, and he looked to be angry enough to set something on fire with his glare alone right now.

The marine took out a handkerchief and uselessly wiped some of the blood away, intentionally grinding the cloth into the wounds. Blood immediately bubbled back up and continued to drip down the cook’s spine, soaking into the waist of his pants. The dark fabric didn’t show any change in colour, but by the way it was sticking to his body, a large stain was starting to spread down his legs. Merrow clicked his tongue in annoyance and brought the knife back to bear on the same spot. Sanji gave a barely audible huff of surprise and immediately went back to biting his lip, this time hard enough to break the skin.

“Oi! Stop that, shit cook! You’re leaking enough as is,” Zoro admonished, just to break the unbearable silence. Hard as he tried, he could not keep the shaking out of his voice completely.

The glare intensified, now burning hot enough that Zoro could almost feel it on his skin. Zoro was pretty sure that the phrase ‘Want to swap?’ was being telepathically thrown his way, if only in about ten times the amount of words and with added profanity. He’d have loved to. If he could imagine any way at all to convince Merrow to focus his wrath on Zoro alone, he’d switch places in a heartbeat. But, although Zoro didn’t pride himself on being the best judge of character, he could still clearly see that trying to sway the marine would just add to the man’s satisfaction when he denied them.

Merrow lifted the knife, giving Sanji just enough time to exhale in relief, before he started on another cut.

“Stop it, you bastard! That’s enough!” Zoro exclaimed, eyeing the bright red puddle starting to accumulate on the floor beneath their feet. He strained forward against the restraints, only to be rudely reminded of their predicament when the guards gave a sharp tug on the cable, causing the cook to tip forward precariously and give a barely audible pained moan.

The marine laughed in delight. “I really thought you were brighter than this, Roronoa. I’m going to have to do the last line again!” His grin was bright enough that no matter what he was saying, there was no mistaking the joy he felt in prolonging their suffering.

The last line? Was the maniac doing some fucked up artwork or something? At least it seemed the end was close. Just one more cut and then Zoro could get back to planning on how to best rip the guy’s throat out instead of keeping down the flood of guilt he could feel threatening to overwhelm him as the cook unconsciously pushed forward into Zoro’s chest to avoid the returning knife. Just one more, then surely Merrow would gloat about a job well done and finally leave them alone!

Sanji shuddered through another slice, until at last the marine stepped back and wiped his brow with his handkerchief in an exaggerated motion.

“This is great work, one of my best. Wouldn’t you say, Roronoa?” Merrow flicked the tip of the knife in the direction of the wound, spattering Zoro’s face and clearly waiting for a reply.

Begrudgingly, Zoro glanced down the cook’s back. It was hard to make out beneath the blood from this angle, but there seemed to be some kind of symbol etched into the skin. Five lines of differing length, some parallel and some at right angles to each other, connected at different points in an intentional pattern. What was it? The shape seemed familiar… Craning his neck to get a better look, Zoro mentally flipped the image upside down and felt fury race through his veins. There, carved deep enough to scar, was a kanji. Zoro was unsure about its exact meaning, but if he wracked his brain something about being proper and lawful came to mind. And hadn’t the fucker been going on about manners? It seemed like simple revenge through torture wasn’t enough for Merrow, he’d wanted to give Zoro a permanent reminder of his perceived failures using the cook as a canvas.

Hissing through his teeth, Zoro raised his gaze back up to the marine, but held back the enraged shout he wanted to unleash. He could do this. Just get through the gloating without giving the guy an excuse for further repercussions and they would be able to get out of here. He would not be beaten by the cook in an exercise of restraint! The cook, who was keeping quiet even though the stab wound in his chest was still bleeding. The cook, who’d managed to not make any sound at all throughout this ordeal until Zoro upset his balance by not thinking before he let his temper get the best of him. Who was now shivering slightly in the cold damp air, but still had a glint of unbroken defiance in his eyes as he stared up at Zoro.

No, Zoro would not be the one to make this worse. Just do as asked, and then Merrow would surely leave. Unclenching his jaw, he growled out an “It looks fine,” ignoring the way Sanji grimaced at his compliance.

Merrow cackled. “Glad you think so! I’m sure you’ll like it even better when it’s finished.”

What? What did he mean, finished?! This was supposed to be over! “What the hell are you talking about?! Get the fuck away from him! You’re done!” Zoro gnashed his teeth in frustration as the marine affected a pitying smile.

“Oh? But I couldn’t leave it like this, it doesn’t really convey the same message with half of it missing.”

“Again, what are you TALKING ABOUT?! It’s done, it’s finished, you think I should be more proper and lawful or whatever, I get it. Message received!” So much for keeping his temper. And still no noise from the cook.

Shaking his head in mock astonishment, Merrow replied, “It seems I overestimated you, Roronoa. I don’t know what I expected, you’re still just an uneducated pirate, but I thought you’d at least be literate. I’m so sorry, let me help you out.” And with that he gestured towards the banner on the opposite wall.

Zoro stared at the characters that had followed their crew ever since they’d first clashed with the Marines. He’d seen them plastered on flags and the back of coats, the buildings of marine bases and even the sails of some of their warships. The ever-present motto of ‘Justice’ that they kept going on about without regard for outside circumstances or differing opinions. Dread filled his stomach. The top kanji was a twin to the one now adorning Sanji’s back. The bottom one was much more intricate. Zoro squinted to make out the details in the low light. Ten, no twelve strokes? Maybe thirteen?

Throat suddenly too dry, he swallowed. “You can’t be serious?! That’s not– you can’t do that!” There was more of a pleading tone in his voice than he would have liked.

A sadistic chuckle was his answer. “As long as you are on this island, you’re under my jurisdiction, so I can do whatever I like. And when the transport ship arrives, they’ll be so greedy to finally have a successful capture under their name that nobody will care in what condition I hand you over. As I said, I’m getting my promotion either way, you just get to decide whether you want to leave this room a little worse for wear or in a bag.”

Zoro’s search for a reply was interrupted by an elbow to the ribs. It didn’t have enough force behind it to hurt, but it was sufficient to get his attention. Looking down, the cook’s gaze was impatiently waiting for him. “What do you want, shitcook?” After Merrow cleared his throat pointedly, he added reluctantly, “And stay quiet.”

 Sanji rolled his eyes, but only mouthed a ‘What?’ up at him.

“Nothing. He’s crazy.” Probably not very reassuring, but knowing what was coming wouldn’t change anything.

Zoro’s reward for trying to be considerate was a headbutt to the sternum followed by a furious scowl. ‘What?’ Sanji mouthed again emphatically, followed by something indiscernible which was sure to be an expletive.

“You should tell him so he can prepare himself, I don’t want him to move around too much for this one. It’s much harder to get the finicky details right.” Merrow smirked, evidently enjoying himself immensely.

Zoro was torn between the idea of continuing to follow the man’s orders, doubling down on his plan of going along until an opportunity presented itself, and shouting in his face to air the dense ball of rising fear and guilt that was twisting him up inside. Letting this guy walk all over them would be no use at all if the cook bled out before they got out of here. Which, considering that Merrow was planning to carve Sanji’s back into ribbons, was a definite point against the plan. But what else could Zoro do? He was sure the shouting would make him feel better, at least in the short-term, but it was not really a viable solution to their predicament. He wished he’d paid more attention when Chopper had lectured him about blood loss and when it became dangerous. Zoro himself would have been fine with measly injuries like these of course, but there seemed to be a lot of blood on the floor by now. A lot.

And the cook was still glaring at him, looking furious enough to spit daggers. Fine! Fine, since Sanji was oh so happy to play right into Merrow’s fucked up little game, he’d tell him! “He’s doing some writing. Justice. Second kanji is still missing.”

Sanji blanched, clearly knowing exactly what that character looked like and how many strokes it was. Stupid fancy cook, always writing shopping lists and reading cook books. If Zoro had spent half as much time studying pieces of paper with senseless scratches on them, he was sure he’d have recognized the kanji straight away as well. But he had better stuff to do, the only time books had ever helped in his training was when he had used them as improvised weights.

Still, Merrow finding something else to flaunt his superiority with made Zoro want to take his time when he finally cut the guy in half. Something else to put on the list of things he’d work on after they got out of here, right after improving his resistance to sedatives and refining his ability to meditate while being heckled by the cook: making sure that he could still ignore every taunt an enemy threw at him. He’d thought he had that figured out, but apparently something about this situation was getting to him, making him more thin-skinned than usual.

With a start, Zoro realized that his brain was trying to distract him from the danger at hand by coming up with useless tangents. That hadn’t happened since he was barely more than a toddler! Once he’d realized that any feeling of helplessness could be overcome by just strengthening his resolve to train even more, to become even stronger, his childhood coping mechanism of just drifting off into his thoughts had become unnecessary, leaving him able to focus whatever the circumstances. Somehow, watching the cook be targeted because of Zoro’s mistake was fucking with him more than expected.

Sanji himself seemed to have no problem at all staying in the here and now, adjusting his stance and bracing himself against the wall in anticipation of the pain to continue. Although he’d turned white as a sheet – from blood loss or trepidation or both was unclear – and the earlier tremors had come back with a vengeance, the cook was still not saying anything. So he must be convinced that there was no other way to get out of this than to keep playing along, right? And if that was the case, Zoro, who just had to stand here and not do anything, wouldn’t be the one to make their situation worse.

“Alright, just keep calm and this’ll be over with in no time,” Zoro mumbled, not sure if he was telling Sanji or himself. He raised his chin in renewed defiance at Merrow, but the marine just scoffed and brandished the knife.

“Very touching, but you can’t rush something like this, or the lesson won’t stick.” He seemed at little miffed that neither Zoro nor Sanji was flipping out at the revelation of his plans. Had he been waiting for a reason to heap further punishment on them? Zoro wouldn’t put it past him, though he was unsure why Merrow even needed the excuse.

Zoro couldn’t help but watch closely as the marine placed the tip of the knife once more against the cook’s skin, slightly lower than before, not yet breaking the surface. Fresh blood was still welling up from the previous cuts and trickling down past the blade. Merrow tsked in annoyance and ineffectively wiped at the area, eventually resorting to pressing the handkerchief directly into the wounds to soak up the stream at the source. By now the previously white fabric had been mostly dyed red and was quickly becoming soggy.

The cook did not move a muscle even though Zoro knew from experience that that must have hurt like hell.

Apparently now content with his canvas, Merrow started on the first strokes. Pressing the sharp-edged steel deep into the flesh twice in quick succession to carve the two lines that made up the top part of the kanji resulted in what looked to Zoro more like stab wounds than cuts. So much for ‘getting the finicky details right’, Merrow seemed much more aggressive than earlier. Maybe they weren’t giving him enough of a reaction to sate his sick urges?

This time, the cook couldn’t hide his wince and belatedly pressed forward to avoid the blade, his forehead coming to rest on Zoro’s shoulder while the hands bracing him against the wall tensed until every sinew stood out in clear definition.

Merrow smiled, though his voice took on a chastising tone as he scolded, “Ah ah, don’t move, we wouldn’t want to cut something important, right?”

“Stop messing around, you bastard!” Zoro shouted, as much to air some of his helpless anger as to test his theory.

The smile got wider. Bullseye. The fucker wanted them to react. As much as it pained Zoro to give him the satisfaction, this was much preferable to the guy escalating further. Better for the cook’s health as well. And it might give Zoro a chance of getting out of here with his teeth intact, instead of ground to dust from trying to hold back. Usually, Sanji was the one who could be relied on to provide enough dramatics to make up for Zoro’s stoic façade, but since the cook was otherwise occupied, Zoro would take up the slack. Merrow wanted a response? He’d get one. Zoro just had to get over himself and tap into the well of mixed emotions that had been growing inside him ever since he woke up. Surely it couldn’t be that hard, Sanji emoted all over the place every chance he got.

When in doubt, start with what you know. A threat then. “I will cut you into so many tiny pieces. So many.” That sounded much better in Zoro’s head.  The cook’s shoulders shook in what might have been pain, but also might have been a suppressed chuckle. Great, at least someone was getting something out of this.

“It would do you well to remember that you are completely at my mercy here. Trying to intimidate me will only make your situation worse,” Merrow replied, but he was still grinning, seemingly enjoying the theatrics.

Another stroke of the knife, still deep but more similar to the earlier cuts than the previous two. A fluke, or was he really backing off?

“Hey curly, this shithead thinks that we’ll just play his stupid games without resisting. I wish you could see the ridiculous expression he makes when looking at that knife of his. It’s almost as bad as you looking at a woman.” Zoro watched the marine’s face expectantly.

The corner of Merrow’s lips twitched down slightly and the next cut was deeper again. Not a stab, but still indicative of a certain amount of dissatisfaction? Maybe? Zoro wasn’t the best at reading people, he knew that, but the elbow to the ribs he received made him think that Sanji at least was not pleased with the effect this line of conversation had had. Got it, so no ridiculing the maniac with the weapon. Pretty obvious in retrospect.

What else could Zoro do? More threats? It didn’t seem like that would please Merrow for long. So, assuming that the cook was right and the marine really was a sadist, what would a guy like that enjoy the most? The answer was easy to find. This whole setup screamed that Merrow wanted his captives to suffer. It followed that he would delight in watching his victims display that suffering. But was Zoro ready to abandon his honour and show weakness to an enemy? Or at least pretend to? He felt his gorge rising at the thought alone and decided to try another threat first. Hopefully it would be enough.

A moment later, the choice was taken out of his hands when the next cut made Sanji release a barely audible groan and press his face deeper into Zoro’s shoulder.

“You alright?”

There was of course no response, but Zoro could imagine the vehement swearing at the stupid question just fine. The cook was definitely not alright. But there was nothing else Zoro could do except ask stupid questions. Couldn’t get the knife off Merrow without risking the cook’s life. Couldn’t attack the guy without maiming the cook’s hands. Couldn’t find a way to get Merrow to direct his ire at Zoro directly. Could not even jump over his shadow and display some vulnerability when the situation desperately called for it. Zoro felt as if the shiver had travelled from the cook into his own bones, rattling his insides.

“Must have hit a nerve cluster with that one, sorry!” Merrow felt the need to happily interject.

Zoro was unsure if the increasing shudders originated from Sanji or himself as thoughts of Chopper warning him about the risks of nerve damage instantly crowded his mind.

“Ignore him, you’ll be okay, cook. He’s talking nonsense,” Zoro tried to reassure Sanji. He could not tell if it had any effect on the cook, but the marine was smiling widely again.

“How sweet! I think it’s lovely that you’re taking care of each other, very cute. Of course, if Roronoa hadn’t run straight into our trap, you wouldn’t even be in this situation, Blackleg. He’s just trying to assuage his guilt for getting you dragged into this,” Merrow for once addressed Sanji directly, adding another stroke to the developing kanji to underline his statement.

“I am not!” Zoro exclaimed, although by now he was unsure if that was the truth.

“If you hadn’t allowed yourself to be caught, Blackleg would not be here. And surely you must be aware that this is mostly for your benefit? If you hadn’t been insolent enough to attack me, both of you could have just waited out your remaining time here in relative peace. Instead, he is going to suffer for your stupidity.” The next slice was almost languid, as Merrow smirked.

“I– Shut up! That’s not–” Zoro could not find the words to rebuke this absurd accusation. Sure, all of that was factually correct, but… but what? He was looking for excuses. No matter his intentions, this was the way things had fallen out, and Sanji was paying for it. The feeling of shame that accompanied this realization made his stomach sink. He had lots of practice accepting his failures and putting the past behind him, getting stronger everyday while learning from his mistakes. But to do that he’d first have to get through the repercussions. And if the cook died because of him, he’d never forgive himself. There’d be no moving forward from that. “I did not mean for this to happen,” Zoro murmured, his own voice sounding plaintive to his ears.

A sharp nip to his shoulder made him look down in bewilderment. The cook was glaring up at him, white as a sheet and sweat standing on his forehead, shaking his head. “No way, shitty marimo, don’t you dare get lost in self-recriminations, your tiny brain can’t handle it. You–“ The rest of the sentence got lost in a scream as Merrow stabbed the knife deeply into his back, incensed.

“Shut. Up. This is not for you! Your thoughts on this matter are irrelevant, so keep them to yourself!” He wrenched the blade back out. “You’re lucky that I’ve got great aim, we can still use this. If you had made me mess up, I’d have to start over somewhere else. This is your final warning, Blackleg: Keep quiet, or I will cut your throat.” The last was said with such ice-cold certainty that Zoro believed it without a doubt. Evidently Sanji did as well, as the pained sounds that had followed the scream cut off immediately.

“He will be! He’ll be quiet, I swear!” Zoro’s shout sounded desperate even to his own ears in the sudden silence.

“I’m not sure I can trust you on that, Roronoa. You promised me that once already, and still, here we are. I’ve been lenient up to now and ignored all that moaning and whimpering, but it seems you and your friend still don’t take me seriously. That ends now.” And he started to carve away at the cook’s back again, still precisely adding another stroke to the developing kanji, but all restraint when it came to the depth of the cut apparently gone.

Sanji jerked in his bonds. Zoro glanced down to see that he was again desperately biting his lip to keep any possible sound from escaping. There was a trail of blood down to his chin from where one of his teeth had pierced the skin.

Giving his best to ignore Merrow admiring the latest addition to his artwork, Zoro murmured, “Hey, stop that, shitcook. You’ll bite something off.”

Sanji’s returning stare seemed to say, “better than the alternative,” as clearly as if it had been shouted into Zoro’s face.

“No, really, I mean it, stop that! And don’t bite you tongue either! But keep silent!”

Merrow cackled in the background, obviously amused by this display of desperation. The cook, against all odds, found the energy to roll his eyes.

 “I don’t know, find something else!”

Sanji’s eyes, so fast Zoro would have missed it if he hadn’t been focused so intensely, flicked down towards Zoro’s shoulder and back up, still stubbornly clenching his jaw.

“Yes! Yes, that’s it, that’s good, that’s great! Do that, I don’t care! Come on, curls!” That was an amazing idea, it’d shut the cook up and give Zoro something to concentrate on other than his utter helplessness. Sanji hesitated, gaze trailing down to where Zoro was now basically pushing his shoulder into his face in an attempt to get the cook to take him up on the offer.

“That’s nice of you,” Merrow said and once again sank the knife into flesh.

Sanji released the hold on his lip, his concentration evidently broken by the short respite, and there was an exhale of air that could have turned into a yelp, before Zoro felt a sudden pain in the area between his neck and his right shoulder. All hesitation gone, the cook’s teeth bit straight through Zoro’s admittedly flimsy shirt and into the skin beneath. Zoro briefly lamented not acquiescing to Sanji’s demands that he buy new clothes more regularly, but compared to the wounds he usually took in battle, this was barely a scratch.

“That’s good, just stay like that, it’s fine, everything’s gonna be fine,” Zoro mumbled, barely hearing what he was saying. The teeth pushed further into his skin as Merrow added another stroke. There was a spot of wet warmth slowly trailing down towards his collarbone; Zoro was unsure if it was spit or blood, and didn’t really care to be honest. What was that, cut number eleven? They were nearly done! He would have been alright enduring this pain for days, if only for the opportunity to finally be able to help in some minuscule way.

Merrow chuckled, though his expression remained cold. “Cute, now the two of you will match when they cut your heads off. Very poetic.”

Another cut, another clenching of teeth. Was that the last one? The still raised knife begged to differ. The kanji must have been thirteen strokes after all.

“There’s just one more, and then it’s done. Just one more, you’ll be alright.” Zoro didn’t know who he was talking to anymore, himself of the cook. Probably both.

Focused as he was on keeping either of them from falling apart, he still noticed out of the corner of his eye Merrow giving a satisfied smirk. It seemed he’d finally managed to give the maniac what he wanted. It’d only taken most of Sanji’s blood to do it, but Zoro had reached the stage of desperation where showing weakness to the enemy became completely inconsequential. He could not even find an ounce of his earlier reluctance, the only thing he was focused on right now was getting through that last cut.

“Yes, just one more,” Merrow chimed in and lowered the knife to skin once more. It seemed to take forever, and Zoro could feel the cook’s teeth sink deeper into his shoulder with every passing second, but then it was done. The marine gripped the tatters of Sanji’s shirt and wiped away some of the red. “Take a look.” He nodded towards the wound pattern in accomplishment.

Against his better judgement, Zoro glanced down. New liquid had already welled up and was dripping down Sanji’s back, but both kanji were easily recognizable, an exact match to the motto on the banner on the opposite wall.

“It’ll probably take a few weeks to organize your public execution, so I hope this reminder will help both of you reflect on where you went wrong in life in the meantime. I’m going to go get cleaned up, Blackleg made quite a mess of this uniform. You just be good until the transport ship arrives, or else I’m going to need to come back for another lesson in manners.” With that, he turned around, gestured for his lackeys to follow him, and made to leave the room.

“You can’t just leave him like that! He’ll bleed out!” Zoro shouted after Merrow’s retreating back.

The man stopped and looked back at them over his shoulder, disdain in his eyes. “Then I guess we’ll need a body bag after all.” And he walked out of the cell, his goons trailing in his wake.

The door slammed shut behind them, there was the sound of a key turning in the lock, and finally, finally, they were alone. Zoro released a breath he felt like he’d been holding for a year.

“You alright?”

Sanji raised his head and grimaced, his teeth bloodied. It might have been his own from where he bit his lip earlier, but Zoro was pretty sure that most of it was from the twin sets of teeth marks he could feel sluggishly leaking down his front and back.

There was a slight glaze to the cook’s eyes and he seemed to have trouble focusing his gaze. That, combined with the worrying pallor of his skin and his rapid breathing, made Zoro once again wish he had any medical knowledge whatsoever. Definitely the effects of blood loss, but was there anything he could do? Nothing came to mind, except for making an exit, covering the wounds, and getting the cook to Chopper as quickly as possible.

“What do you think, shitty marimo?” came the belated reply. “I’m just peachy.”

Even the cook’s usual sarcasm sounded weak to Zoro’s ears. “We have to get out of here, curls. Chopper will fix you right up, don’t worry.”

“Ha… Who’s worried…,” Sanji trailed off and sagged against Zoro’s chest, slowly sliding down his front as his knees started to buckle.

“HEY! No falling asleep, shitcook!”

Sanji braced himself, stopping his descent a few centimetres before Zoro had to seriously contemplate somehow catching him with his teeth to prevent him tearing his own hands off. “Not… that… easy… Zoro.”

Uh oh, if Sanji was admitting to being in trouble and even the nicknames had stopped, they were in much more danger than he had feared. This called for dire measures. There was an obvious solution that would get them out of their predicament right away, and the time for hesitation was over.

“Just kick the wall as hard as you can.”

There was a barely distinguishable mumble. “Already talked about that… won’t get enough momentum…”

“Sanji. Just kick the wall. It’s just one leg anyway, this is nothing compared to Little Garden. And I was completely okay after that, no problem.”

Sanji froze. Then he raised his head with obvious effort until they were looking into each other’s eyes from much too close and started shouting. Apparently even severe blood loss could not keep the cook from expressing his disagreement with that. “ARE YOU OUT OF YOUR FUCKING MIND, SHITTY SWORDSMAN? You want me to rip your leg off ON PURPOSE?! I don’t need another leg on my conscience, no thanks!”

“It wouldn’t be on purpose! And it probably wouldn’t come right off…”

This very convincing argument failed to sway the cook. By now, he’d lifted himself back up to a standing position and was glaring as if he’d like to set Zoro on fire with his eyes. So at least the falling asleep was no longer a problem. Not the intended effect of his suggestion, but he’d take it. If he could just persuade Sanji to channel his newfound energy into their escape, they’d be golden.

“And don’t think I didn’t notice the name. That’s what I get to be called by my name for?! You trying to get me to cripple you? Thanks a lot!” Sanji frowned, looking slightly hurt. In an emotional sense, in addition to the very serious physical hurt.

“No! That’s not…” To be honest, Zoro hadn’t even noticed, it’d just slipped out. He’d been so focused on making sure the cook paid attention. There was a brief burst of regret for breaking something that was part of their whole thing, then he put it away. “That doesn’t matter. Nothing matters except snapping these chains. So get over your fake hesitation and KICK. THE. FUCKING. WALL!”

“Shut up! You’re as stupid as a piece of kelp! A stupid one! I refuse!”

Not one of the cook’s most inventive insults, but some allowances could be made for significant blood loss. Also not really helpful. Zoro wracked his brain for any way to convince him, and came up blank. Threats would not work, as months of sailing together had shown. And he’d already given away the only thing he could think of that might be worth anything to Sanji in exchange for his silence earlier. Shouting at him had not worked. Using his name, though unintentionally, had not worked. And every second spent hesitating meant the red puddle on the floor becoming a little bit bigger. So the only thing left was- “Please kick the fucking wall?”

The cook swayed, whether in astonishment or because he was losing consciousness again was unclear. “Nice try, but no. Shut up and let me think…” He dropped his head back to Zoro’s shoulder and fell silent.

“We don’t have time for this. Come on!”

Sanji ignored him. This felt like karma for earlier when Zoro had been trying to meditate and the cook would not quit interrupting. Their situations were reversed now, and it was even more annoying. Maybe the cook was just annoying, no matter the situation.

“If you die on me, I refuse to be the one to tell the others. You will need to tell them yourself.” That didn’t even make sense, but Zoro was getting desperate. “Chopper will cry. Luffy will cry.” Damn, everything was supposed to get better once the crazy marine left!

Sanji stayed silent, the shuffling of his feet as he adjusted his posture the only sign that he was still awake.

“It’s just a leg. I have two, and it probably won’t even be that bad.”

“Alright,” Sanji replied.

“Alright? You’ll do it?”

“No, shitty swordsman. Need your legs to carry us later.” Judging from his uncharacteristically short responses, the cook was conserving his energy. Sanji continued, “Now brace.”

Unsure what was going to happen, Zoro nevertheless made his stance as stable as possible, which was not very. A moment later his ribcage was painfully squeezed between Sanji’s elbows. “What are you doing?” he asked, only to once more be ignored. Next, he felt the wire around his left ankle pull tight. Not painfully so, but to the extent that Sanji had raised his leg earlier. What followed was the most pathetic kick he had ever seen the cook make. The wall seemed unimpressed. “That won’t be enough, cook.”

“Will be. Just need leverage.” Sanji adjusted his grip around Zoro’s midsection to feel even more like he was caught in the claws of a crab. Then he repeated the kick with the same distance, but this time there was a tiny bit more force behind it. How?

At the next repetition he noticed Sanji rotating his body slightly, somehow using Zoro as a pivot to put more momentum into the kick. It still wasn’t a lot, but maybe it would be enough? At least Sanji seemed to think so, because he kept going, dealing weak blows to the wall one after the other, until at long last a small part of one of the stone bricks splintered off and clattered to the floor.

The cook was breathing heavily and his bare foot was covered in scratches, adding to the mess on the floor. There wasn’t even a triumphant comment though, apparently all Sanji’s energy was needed to stay upright as he chipped away minuscule amounts of stone.

The seconds ticked past. Zoro didn’t really want to know how futile it was, but finally, as the time between kicks got longer and longer, he craned his neck to get a look at the section of wall behind his heels. After all this effort, there was one brick with a crack in it. Just one. And the crack was barely visible.

In the meantime, Sanji was flagging. What had earlier been a tight squeeze around Zoro’s midsection now felt more like a last-ditch attempt at not sliding to the floor. The brief burst of vigour caused by his anger had left him, and Zoro felt like this time it wasn’t coming back. When there hadn’t been another movement in at least a minute, he decided that enough was enough.

“Hey, stop it, cook. This isn’t getting us anywhere.”

There was no reply, just Sanji’s head thumping back down on Zoro’s shoulder in defeat.

“Cook?”

Still nothing. Only the sound of breathing next to his ear kept Zoro from freaking out. Other than the fact that Sanji was still more or less carrying his own weight, he’d have thought that he’d fallen unconscious. Could you pass out and keep standing? Zoro could remember quite a few times where he’d lost consciousness while upright, but then he’d always woken up lying down.

“No sleeping yet, we still need to get out of here.” He shrugged his shoulder, trying to get any reaction whatsoever. No reply.

There was no way, absolutely no way that Zoro was going to let the cook die here for his fuck up! If he had to twist his own legs off to escape, well, then what he’d started in Little Garden would be finished. And then he could… do nothing. Except fall over and drag the cook down with him. Being willing to do anything was useless, when it wouldn’t even help!

A sudden scratching sound from the direction of the door interrupted his despair. Was Merrow coming back? Maybe he could at least beg for some medical attention? Surely the guy would enjoy that, hopefully enough to comply.

There was some shuffling outside the room, a few words of muffled conversation, and then the door creaked open slowly to reveal the sight of Nami crouched down in the hallway. “There you are!” she hissed, relief on her face. Then her eyes went wide as she took in the scene. “What…?”

“Don’t just stare, witch, get in here and help!”

“Are you sure we shouldn’t get Luffy down here, Nami? If even Zoro needs help, we should probably… uh… make a tactical retreat? Just to not get in the way, of course!” Usopp’s head peeked hesitantly around the corner, only for him to suddenly push past Nami and rush into the room. He barely made it in time to awkwardly catch the cook, who’d finally decided to faint now that help had arrived. Usopp staggered under the weight and made to let him slide to the floor.

Zoro growled. “DON’T! Watch out for his hands!”

Usopp looked down and gulped as he saw the wires. “NAMI! Help!”

Nami, recovered from the shock or at least pretending to be, hurried closer and winced. Then, not one to hesitate in an emergency, she took control of the situation. “Usopp, get your arms around his chest and push him forward! No matter what you do, don’t let him fall backwards, understand?”

“Are you sure? There’s wounds all over his back, shouldn’t we bandage those first?”

“No time! You can put pressure on them with your body or something, I don’t care, we need to free them first.” She gestured towards the restraints.

Zoro could hear the faint sounds of explosions and screams in the distance as Usopp pressed close, sandwiching the cook between them. “Ha… sorry for this…” Usopp avoided his gaze, obviously uncomfortable with the proximity.

Zoro glared down his nose at him as best as he was able. “Really don’t care, just do it. Can you reach his right collarbone? Stab wound right below.” Usopp grimaced, but twisted until he could clamp down on it, hopefully damming the blood flow a little bit.

 Meanwhile, Nami had investigated the manacles, wires, and bolts attaching them to the wall. “The easiest way would be to just cut the wires. Got something for that?”

“Wire cutters in my bag, inside pocket,” Usopp replied, voice strained. “The big ones, for this type of cable.”

Nami rummaged through the assorted tools for a few seconds, then triumphantly pulled them free by one elongated handle. “Got them!” Her face fell when she looked back at the wires. “I don’t think I’m strong enough to cut those though…”

“You need to do it fast, it’s mostly just momentum, give them to me, I’ll show you!” Usopp held out a shaking hand, and then stopped in bewilderment when she put one of the handles in it and he realized he didn’t have enough limbs to grab the other one without dropping the cook. “I can’t- we need to swap or something. Or should I just talk you through it? Which do you think is faster? Can you hold Sanji? There must be something we can do, Nami! I think he’s bleeding less, is that good or bad? Oh God, what if he doesn’t have any blood in there anymore?!”

Zoro, fed up with the panicked babbling happening in front of him, reached the ends of his already very limited patience. “Give them here, I’ll do it.”

“What? You can’t even move your arms, how do you expect to use these?” Nami grabbed the other handle and shook the cutters in exasperation, the sudden movement making Usopp let out a squawk and drop it to resettle his grip around Sanji’s chest.  She continued with a glare at Zoro, “This is a two-handed operation, you moron!”

If the situation weren’t so dire, Zoro would have just ignored her lecturing, used to it as he was from daily life on the ship. But there just wasn’t enough time to be polite. Was the cook’s breathing getting weaker or was that just his imagination? “Shut up, put the blades around the wire and the grips in my hand, I’ll cut the thing. I can cut it.” He would cut it.

Nami barely swallowed her protest, but did as directed, wedging the cutters behind Zoro’s back and clamping them down on the wire to his right before twisting them so he could grab hold. With the way they were spread open, he could just barely put pressure on them with his fingertips. And the angle across the wire was really bad, flat so that he’d have more material to cut through. If he’d had any of his swords, he’d have had no problem just curling his wrist and slicing through the steel, steel was easy by now. Most of the time. But none of that mattered. He would cut the fucking wire, it’d just have to be through the brute force approach.

Uncomfortably reminded of his earlier futile attempt at breaking the manacles through muscle tension alone, Zoro took a deep breath, and put all the force he could muster into squeezing down. At least this time he had something with an edge to it! The cable resisted, but this was just not allowed to stop him. It would break, it had to. He directed his will towards the blades of the cutter, feeling for the breath of the steel between them. Having subpar tools was no excuse for failing here! There was no way he would fail here. The wire groaned like a living thing and one of the strands snapped. Then another. Then finally, the whole thing came apart with a twang, the ends whipping through the air and scoring two thin lines across his side before falling limply to the floor. YES!

Nami immediately stepped forward and unwound the clinging remainder from around Sanji’s left wrist, making a face when some of the skin came off with it and the uncovered wounds began to bleed sluggishly again. “Lean the other way,” she commanded, and raced around to the opposite side. Now with Zoro able to reduce the tension, it was an easy task for her to loosen the loop and slip the cook’s other wrist free. “Alright, now you can sit him down.”

Usopp simply sat down himself, taking Sanji with him to the ground. Zoro did his best to ignore the way the cook flopped back against his chest, eyes closed, unmoving. Instead, he contorted his protesting body until he could grip the cutters with both hands and had his second arm free within a few seconds, the legs following shortly after.

“Where’s Chopper?”

Nami, who had apparently found some bandages in Usopp’s bag and was wrapping Sanji’s shoulder, looked up. “On the ship, we took the Sunny around the island, she’s anchored just offshore.”

“I’ll take the cook. You,” he made sure to look Usopp in the eye, so he could not pretend he wasn’t included, “will get my swords. Probably in that Merrow bastard’s office or somewhere around there. There’s three, do NOT touch the red one with your bare hands.”

“Wha-Zoro! You can’t leave us here alone, we’ll come with you and watch your back!” Usopp was shaking visibly.

Zoro stepped forward and started to heave the cook up. Nami, recognizing his intentions, helped him shift Sanji’s weight onto his back until he could carry him in a mostly stable piggyback position. “No, you get the swords, I’m faster on my own.” He turned to go, but Nami grabbed his sleeve and stopped him.

“What- What is that?!” Zoro started to look around for an enemy that had somehow slipped past his senses, but soon realized that she was staring at the cook’s back in horror. “Who… How could they!!” There were tears standing in her eyes.

There was no time for this! “It’s nothing, we need to go. Now.”

Nami swallowed and got a grip on herself. “Alright, but take Usopp with you. He knows how we came in.” Some kind of unsaid message passed between her and Usopp, and Usopp nodded. “And I’m stealthier alone, I can get your swords without being noticed.”

“Fine! But if you see a slimy marine officer with a coat that’s three sizes too big, hide. Do not approach that guy at any cost, that’s Merrow.” He usually wouldn’t even give such a warning, trusting Nami to be her usual sneaky self, but he did not want any of his nakama to be anywhere near that freak if he could avoid it.

Nami’s gaze slid back down to Sanji’s wounds and she gulped. “I won’t. Now go, I’ll see you back at the ship.”

“Follow me!” Usopp exclaimed and pushed open the door, turning left and sprinting down the corridor at a speed that Zoro only caught up to after a few strides. He was pretty sure this was the wrong way, but they had probably come in through a secret entrance or something. They were moving away from the screams though, so at least there wouldn’t be any fleeing marines to delay them.

Zoro forced himself to concentrate on pushing on as quickly as possible, but every few seconds some part of him could not help but check if he could still feel the cook’s shallow breath against his ear. It was still there, for now. Ignoring his protesting muscles, he put on another burst of speed, hoping it would be enough.

–––

When Sanji came to, they had already been at sea for a couple of days. Chopper informed him that he had lost a lot of blood, and was under no circumstances allowed to leave the bed. He made it half a day before he was back in the galley. Everything went back to normal surprisingly quickly, with the exception of regular bandage changes and tearful recriminations. Well, that was pretty normal too to be honest.

As the days went by, he sometimes noticed Nami-swan giving him unreadable glances from the corner of his eye, as if she wanted to talk about something and then thought better of it. She knew best of course, so he wouldn’t dream of asking about it. And if he got a little bit more enthusiastic in his praise of her whenever it seemed like there would be an opportunity for a heart to heart, well, that was only what she was due.

Looking at the stupid marimo on the other hand, you’d think that nothing had happened at all. There were some bandages on him too, but that was business as usual for the brute. Sanji wasn’t completely clear on why the idiot would need to be patched up, since he wasn’t the one who’d gotten carved up, but the wrappings peeking out of Zoro’s collar soon started to feature heavily in his day dreams of wringing mossy’s neck when he disturbed the sanctity of the galley. So he wasn’t complaining. He might have thought once or twice about bringing up their captivity and the resulting enforced closeness that they’d found themselves in, but just couldn’t find the right time.

And then there was fog and a ghost ship and a talking skeleton and a ghost island and zombies. And then there was Kuma. And then “nothing” happened, and there was really nothing to talk about at all.