Chapter Text
Zoro forced his eyes open against the sting of salt, but there was nothing—
He couldn’t see a damn thing.
He drove his arms forward, cutting through the water. Panic nipped at the edges of his mind—You have to find him. Find him. Keep swimming.
His lungs were already burning, but he pushed deeper. It was pitch black—no light, no shape, no Sanji.
Keep looking, don't lose him!
At this depth, they’d have maybe a minute and a half, two if they were lucky. Sanji was a strong swimmer, but even he couldn’t hold his breath forever.
He pushed harder, each stroke slower than the one before. The water felt thicker the deeper he went, as if it were trying to hold him back. Every heartbeat slammed through his ears, counting down the seconds he didn’t have.
Thirty… forty… keep moving. Don't let that be the last thing you told him.
His chest ached already, lungs tightening, but the adrenaline kept him moving despite that. He couldn’t afford to stop. The surface was gone; the ship was gone—just water in every direction.
The clock is running out, swim faster, damit! He yelled internally.
Then—faintly—something flickered below.
A pulse of light, orange and bright like a flame. For a moment, he thought he had imagined it, a trick of his drowning brain. But then it flared again, curling and kicking through the dark.
Diable Jambe.
Zoro’s gut twisted. How the hell could he still be burning underwater? It didn’t matter. It meant Sanji was alive. But the glow that danced below was starting to get weaker with every second.
He kicked toward the glow, and as the light caught Sanji’s body for a heartbeat, Zoro saw his bare skin, pale in the dark, streaked with a red mark curling across his ribs and down his waist, a raw line where something had already wrapped him once.
Cooks fighting something nearby, where did it go?
Something then shifted in the dark, sending a wave of force through the water. The faint orange flame brightened, flickering wildly, just enough to paint the outline of the thing moving behind it. A hulking, nightmarish silhouette loomed: a monster fish, scales glinting with oil-slick iridescence even in the gloom. Its enormous head, casting shifting shadows over a cavernous jaw lined with needle teeth. Eyes as pale and empty as the abyss itself rolled in its skull, fixated on the struggling shape of Sanji.
It was massive. Its fins trailed tattered, bioluminescent streamers that shimmered as Sanji’s flames drew closer—sickly blue and green, casting light over patches of scarred, barnacle-crusted hide. Its mouth gaped wide enough to swallow a ship whole. The beast moved slowly, but what it lacked in speed, it made up for in sheer, brutal endurance.
A sudden blur of movement—tentacles lashed from beneath its jaw. One wrapped around Sanji’s waist, another snaking down to seize his ankle, holding him fast. He thrashed desperately, twisting in the monster’s grip, but the tentacles only tightened, dragging him closer to the yawning maw.
Their eyes met—wide, terrified. Then Zoro saw it—the recognition. The shock flickering across Sanji’s face as he realized he wasn’t alone down here. Sanji’s cheeks puffed with the last air he had left, his body jolted, air exploding from his mouth in a burst of silver bubbles. His hand shot out toward Zoro's fingers, splayed, reaching out. But the monster’s grip tightened, tentacles wrenching him back. He was yanked away, dragged toward the creature’s gaping maw.
Zoro surged forward, grabbing Sanji's hand, gripping fingers with every ounce of strength left in his body.
He could feel Sanji’s hand locked with his, their grip painfully tight—knuckles white, Sanji’s nails bit deep into Zoro’s skin, desperate to hold on. Zoro held back just as hard, refusing to give up his hold. Beneath the monster’s pull, their hands were the only lifeline, clinging to each other for dear life.
The beast’s jaws opened wider, shadows swallowing Sanji’s lower half as he tried to kick free. Zoro could see the panic in his eyes—the silent plea not to let go—just before the creature’s teeth closed in, water muffling Sanji’s scream in a burst of crimson and bubbles.
Then—a blur of blue light and motion.
The pressure in the water shifted. A wave of force shot through the deep, and Jinbe’s voice rumbled like thunder.
“Fish-Man Karate—Buraikan!”
The sea exploded. The creature reeled backward, slammed by a spiraling current that shattered the dark. A second later, a glow streaked past them—the Thousand Sunny’s sub, engines blazing, Franky inside shouting through the comms. Twin bursts of light streaked into the beast’s flank.
“Taste some FRANKY firepower, you oversized freak!”
The explosions lit the deep in flickering gold.
Zoro didn’t waste a second. He wrapped both arms around Sanji’s waist and kicked for the surface, following the trail of escaping bubbles. Jinbe swam alongside them, guiding the current upward.
Zoro’s lungs were about to burst. The world around him began to blur, colors bleeding into a white haze. Sanji’s weight pulled heavily against him, limp, his leg a mess of blood.
They burst through the surface with a gasp that tore Zoro’s throat raw, desperate for air.
“ZORO! SANJI!”
He barely had time to register the shout before a blur of motion whipped across the air.
Two long arms shot out from the Sunny, rubber snapping as they wrapped around both Zoro and Sanji in one powerful sweep.
“Gotcha!!!”
The next instant, they were airborne—hauled up with speed, water streaming off them in silver arcs.
They hit the deck hard. Zoro’s back took the impact first, Sanji’s body slamming into him before rolling halfway off his chest.
For a breath, everything was soundless—just the roar of blood in Zoro’s ears and the weight of Sanji’s body pressing him into the wood.
He coughed hard, gasping, air tearing through his chest like fire. Salt burned his eyes, vision blurring as he blinked up at the pale blur of his captain's face.
“Move!” Chopper’s voice cut through, already sprinting toward them. “He’s bleeding!”
Zoro’s stomach dropped.
Blood ran down Sanji’s thigh, soaking through the fabric of his shorts. Usopp dropped to his knees beside him, both hands clamping down on the wound.
“It’s okay, buddy, we got you,” Usopp said, voice trembling despite the words.
“Keep pressure there!” Chopper shouted, tearing open his med kit.
Behind them, Jinbe hauled himself over the rail, the deck groaning beneath his weight. Moments later, Franky’s voice echoed from the sea—something loud, victorious—until he saw the blood. The noise stopped cold.
Chopper worked fast, his hooves flying as he wrapped gauze tight around Sanji’s leg. “Help me get him to the infirmary. Now!”
Zoro stumbled after them, heart pounding so loud it drowned out the world. Every muscle in his body screamed, but the pain was distant, muted beneath the rush of panic.
He's okay, he has to be OK.
The words looped uselessly in his head, tangled with guilt. He could still feel the ghost of Sanji’s hand in his own. Zoro sucked in a ragged breath. He should feel relieved. He should. But it curdled in his gut instead, thick and sour. This is my fault.
Stop it, he told himself, teeth clenched. You’re no use like this. Just move. Get to the infirmary. Make sure he’s—
His chest tightened again. He forced his legs forward, his breath coming in shallow, uneven gasps.
“Zoro.”
Robin’s voice was gentle, close. She knelt beside him, her eyes calm where his felt wild. “You need to breathe.”
“I am,” he rasped, though the sound broke halfway through. His chest heaved. The air felt too thin, his throat raw.
Robin’s hand found his shoulder, steady and warm. “Not like that. Slowly.”
He tried, but the inhale came out wrong—wet, coughing, his whole body shaking from the effort.
From somewhere inside the infirmary, Chopper’s voice rose over the panic. “Everyone out!”
“But Chopper—” Nami started.
“Out!”
Even Luffy didn’t argue. The door slammed shut behind them as the doctor continued to work.
Robin stayed by Zoro’s side, watching him until the tremor in his shoulders eased. “He’ll be okay,” she said softly. “Chopper’s with him. Let’s wait in the galley with the others.”
Zoro didn’t argue. He couldn’t find the energy to. His limbs were heavy, uncooperative, like the sea still clung to them.
Robin guided Zoro to a bench near the long galley table and set a glass of water in front of him.
“Drink this, it will help.”
He obeyed, though half of it spilled down his chin as another cough tore through him. His lungs hadn’t caught up to the surface yet. The burn in his chest was a bitter reminder of how close it had been to drowning and how much he’d swallowed.
Jinbe entered moments later, his footsteps steady, followed by Franky.
“Is the cook stable?” Jinbe asked.
Nami nodded toward the direction of the infirmary door. “I'm not sure, Chopper’s still with him. He kicked us all out.”
Franky exhaled, “That thing was no joke. Thought I’d seen everything the deep could throw at us, but that was some super nightmare fuel. It bolted after a few heavy hits—doubt it’ll be back anytime soon.”
Zoro didn’t respond. He sat hunched forward, elbows on his knees, eyes unfocused. His breathing had evened out, but his thoughts on the cook rambled on as he anxiously waited with the rest of the crew for news on his condition.
Jinbe folded his arms, voice low and even. “I suspect the Galley Chain’s lanterns drew the creature from the previous night.”
Luffy tilted his head. “Huh? How come?”
“When Chopper and I walked around earlier,” Jinbe explained, “we learned the cooks aboard designed those lanterns to attract fish schools. Their light mimics deep-sea angler lures. I suspect the creature followed the fish for its own hunt. When the fleet moved on, we must have drifted into its path.”
Usopp wrung his hands, glancing nervously toward the porthole. “Wait—if it followed the Galley Chain once, what if it’s still out there? What if it’s hunting them now? If that thing’s hungry enough, it might not care that we scared it off. The fleet could be in real danger if it circles back.”
Jinbe inclined his head solemnly. “That is certainly possible.”
Zoro looked up then, catching the anxiety flickering across Usopp’s face. His own thoughts mirrored it. The Galley Chain wasn’t built for combat—no cannons, no fighters. If that thing was still prowling the depths… every one of those cooks could already be in its jaws.
Nami stepped closer to him, her voice sharp but shaking at the edges. “You're lucky, Zoro,” she snapped. “One minute, you two are yelling at each other, and the next, you both vanish under the water!" She pointed at him, anger flaring again. “I ran for Franky and Jinbe the second I saw the rope slack. If I hadn’t been watching you idiots, you’d both still be down there getting chewed on by whatever monster that was!”
Franky rubbed the back of his neck. “She’s not wrong.”
Zoro opened his mouth, but before he could speak, another voice carried from the hallway.
Brook appeared in the doorway, his tone lighter but relieved. “Good news, everyone! Our dear Cook will be just fine! I spoke with Chopper—he’s already finished dressing the wounds!”
“Good,” Luffy said simply. His grin softened, a small but genuine smile. “That’s all that matters.” He stretched, his rubber limbs creaking like ropes. “Next time, though, if you two wanna go fight a sea monster, at least tell me first so I can throw a punch!"
Zoro snorted, despite himself. “Wasn’t exactly planned.”
After a while waiting around for the chopper to return, the kitchen was now clean again from the morning's chaos, thanks to Robin and Usopp, and there had been enough food from breakfast to feed them through lunch since the damn cook had gone overboard, pun not intended, earlier.
The door then creaked open. The little reindeer came in looking exhausted but worry-free.
“He’s stable,” Chopper announced, voice carrying across the galley. “He’s going to be okay.”
The air seemed to release all at once—shoulders dropping, the tension that had been strangling the room finally breaking. Nami let out a shaky sigh, and even Luffy’s grin returned in full.
Chopper climbed up onto the nearest stool so everyone could hear him better. “The bite marks were deep, but nothing vital was hit. His leg’s wrapped, and didn't need too many stitches, and I gave him something for the pain. Whater grabbed him, and he bruised his chest pretty bad, too. He’ll need rest for a few days and take it easy."
“Is he awake?” Robin asked gently.
“He was in and out,” Chopper said, shaking his head. “He used up too much energy fighting whatever that creature was and lost a lot of blood. He’ll sleep for a while. Honestly…” He paused, rubbing his foreleg nervously. “He’s lucky. Most people wouldn’t bounce back from an injury like that so fast, let alone with their leg still attached. His body’s still… different, after Wano.”
Zoro looked up at that.
Chopper continued quietly, “Whatever changes those modifications made after using the raid suit seem to still work in his system. It’s why he’s healing quicker than expected. But… I still don’t fully understand how they work. There’s a lot we don’t know about what those modifications might do over time.” His voice was low, worry edging in despite his efforts to sound confident. “He’s healing now, but I’ll keep watching him. Things could develop in ways we’re not ready for—I wish I knew more to help.”
Nami winced slightly at the mention of the raid suit's side effect. “It's okay, chopper, you're doing your best, and...Sanji’s worried too, I bet.”
Zoro glanced at the floor, jaw working. He knew just how much this bothered the cook—how uneasy Sanji was about the parts of himself he couldn’t control, no matter how useful they’d been today. He remembered Chopper talking to him a lot after Wano, but never fully disclosing the information because of some shit called "Doctor-patient confidentiality". Zoro could already see how this might gnaw at the cook later, twisting up his pride and sense of self. It was a different kind of injury, and Zoro worried it could haunt Sanji long after his body was healed.
The others slowly drifted out of the galley, the conversations fading into soft murmurs. Zoro stayed seated for a long moment, thinking before finally standing.
“Chopper,” he said quietly.
The doctor turned, blinking up at him. “Hm?”
“Can I see him?”
Chopper hesitated, then nodded. “Just for a little bit. He needs rest, so don't wake him up."
Zoro got up, leaving the galley to follow Chopper back to the infirmary, and followed him inside.
Sanji lay peacefully on the cot. His face looked better—color returning to his cheeks, breathing slow and even. The rise and fall of his chest was steady, reassuring.
Zoro didn’t pull back the covers. He didn’t need to see the wounds. He trusted Chopper when he said it would heal. Instead, he pulled a chair to the bedside and sat beside him.
For a while, he just watched him sleep. The soft hiss of the waves outside blended with Sanji’s breathing, the rhythm steady, grounding. Hopefully, the cook wouldn't think it was creepy, but luckily, he wasn't awake to yell at him.
Zoro reached out. His fingers brushed Sanji’s hand. He hesitated a heartbeat before curling his hand around it, holding tight.
“You scared the hell out of me,” he muttered, voice barely above a whisper. “Don’t do that again, dumbass.”
He was about to let his hand go and leave when he suddenly found himself hesitating, thumb tracing lightly over Sanji’s knuckles.
He hadn’t really looked at them before. Typical, he thought. All the times they’d fought or worked side by side, and he’d never once noticed what the cook’s hands actually looked like.
Now, up close, he could see the details—thin white lines crossing the skin, faint burns, a few small nicks near the fingers. Old marks, smoothed over by time.
Zoro huffed quietly through his nose. Figures. The idiot probably burned and cut himself a hundred times when he was younger and still learning. It reminded him of all the blisters and bandaged palms he had when he was learning his own craft back at the dojo.
He turned their joined hands slightly, catching how the light hit the scars and tracing over them with his eyes. “Huh,” he muttered to himself, almost amused. “Guess you do train as much as me.”
He wasn’t trying to compliment him—just an observation. A quiet kind of admiration.
He leaned back a little, still holding on. Zoro shook his head, a faint, almost embarrassed smile tugging at his mouth. “What the hell’s wrong with me?” he murmured, though there was no heat behind it.
The words caught in his throat, but he forced them out anyway, soft and halting, even though Sanji was asleep. “I shouldn’t have kissed you,” he whispered, regret twisting in his chest. “But I don’t know if I could have stopped myself either.” His voice dropped to a rough murmur.
The low hum of the ship had blended with the soft rhythm of Sanji’s breathing, and somewhere between the one-sided conversation, exhaustion had pulled him under.
Zoro stirred at the faint sensation of fingers running through his short hair. For a moment, he thought he was dreaming—the touch was gentle and slow. But then a low voice broke through the haze.
“Well,” it drawled softly, “look who decided to take a nap on the job. Aren't you supposed to be my nurse? Marimo?”
Zoro blinked awake. His neck ached from where it had been bent awkwardly against the edge of the cot, his head resting near Sanji’s arm. At some point, he’d slumped forward, one hand still tangled with Sanji’s. Their fingers had curled together in sleep.
Sanji was awake. And somehow, infuriatingly, he looked almost like he was back to normal.
Color had returned to his face, and his expression—though tired—was back to the same old Cook. The only sign of the morning was the bandaged leg propped on a pillow.
Zoro blinked a few times, trying to shake off the sleep. His cheeks went red as he realized Sanji’s fingers were still absently running through his hair. He swatted the hand away, scowling. “Oi, cut it out. You’re supposed to be resting, not messing up my hair,” he muttered, voice rough and embarrassed.
“I was,” Sanji said, smirking faintly, “until someone started drooling on my blanket.”
Zoro scowled. “I wasn’t drooling.”
“Sure you weren’t.” Sanji’s voice softened, though the teasing stayed. “Didn’t mean to wake you up.”
Zoro straightened slowly, releasing his hand.
“You look better,” Zoro said after a moment.
Sanji shrugged lightly.
Zoro huffed. “You almost got eaten by a giant fish.”
Sanji’s laugh was hoarse but bright. “Well, I’ve been told I’m irresistible.”
Zoro crossed his arms, voice gruff. “Chopper said that your exoskeleton is the only reason you didn’t lose your leg.”
Sanji’s jaw clenched, eyes flicking away. “I’d rather have lost it than keep relying on that...”
Zoro rolled his eyes, biting back a retort. He wanted to argue—wanted to shake some sense into the idiot—but he let it go, for now.
“Glad you’re okay,” he said finally. His voice was quieter than he meant it to be, relief flickering across his face before he turned toward the door. He paused, glancing back. “The crew’s trying to find the Galley Chain,” he said, voice low but steady. “Jinbe and Robin are tracking the currents, just in case that monster circles back. We want to make sure they’re safe.”
Sanji’s eyes widened, a genuine gratitude softening his features. He let out a quiet sigh. “Good. I wanna make sure they're safe too. They’re cooks, not fighters....”
Zoro met his gaze, a rare understanding passing between them. “I should go.”
“Hey, mosshead,” Sanji called after him.
Zoro glanced back.
Sanji’s expression was caught somewhere between suspicion and amusement. “Why did Robin come in here earlier, asking what Cheese likes to eat?”
Zoro groaned, fuck. Dragging a hand down his face as he turned back to the cook. “I might’ve let it slip.”
“Might’ve—?!” Sanji tried to sit up but hissed, clutching his leg. “The second I’m able to, I’m kicking your ass!”
Sanji leaned back against the pillow, a flicker of amusement tugging at the corner of his mouth. “So,” he said lightly, “did you let anything else slip?”
Zoro froze mid-step, caught completely off guard. “What?”
Sanji raised an eyebrow. “You know—anything that wasn’t about Cheese?” The teasing lilt in his voice didn’t hide the real question underneath it.
Zoro looked away, scratching the back of his neck. “No,” he muttered. Liar. “Didn’t say anything.”
Sanji studied him for a moment, clearly unconvinced but too tired to press. “Huh,” he said, smirking faintly. “Funny. Nami came in after Robin to check on us. Asked a few very specific questions.”
Zoro turned back toward him, narrowing his eyes. “She knows?”
Sanji laughed under his breath. “She knows something—but don’t worry. I made her promise not to say anything.”
He stared at the floor for a long second, the words Sanji didn’t say ringing louder than the ones he did. Sanji had every right to be furious with him. But now? The cook just sounded… fine. Calm.
Was he still mad?
Zoro shifted, jaw tight. He wasn’t good at this kind of thing, but the silence between them felt heavier than any wound. Finally, he muttered, low and rough, “...Hey. About what I said before.”
Sanji looked up, one brow raised, but his face stayed unreadable.
“I shouldn’t have—” Zoro started, then forced it out in one breath. “I shouldn’t’ve said that… about taking back the kiss.”
For a moment, Sanji just looked at him. Then he sighed, the faintest crease forming between his brows. “It’s whatever.”
Zoro blinked. That’s it? That’s all he had to say? Just whatever?
His jaw tightened; something in those two words hit a nerve, the kind of irritation that felt familiar in his gut. “You’re kidding me,” he muttered, voice low and sharp. “That’s your answer?”
Sanji tilted his head, tone maddeningly calm. “What do you want me to say? You already took it back.”
“That’s not—” Zoro stopped, fists clenching at his sides.
Sanji’s gaze dropped to the blanket, his voice quiet but steady. “I’m tired, alright? I don’t wanna fight about it right now.”
“Anyway,” the cook said quickly, forcing some of his usual bite back into his voice, “if you’re done, why don't you get me some water...Nurse.”
Zoro blinked, caught off guard. “What?” Sanji had always been good at dodging things that hit too close. The way he changed the subject wasn’t new. But calling him his nurse certainly was.
“You heard me.” Sanji waved a lazy hand. “I’d do it myself, but apparently I’m not supposed to walk on this leg.”
Zoro scowled, grateful for the shift in tone even if it was infuriating. “Tch. I'm not getting you shit.”
“Boo.”
He muttered something under his breath but grabbed the glass anyway, setting it within reach. He exhaled, tension loosening just a little. It wasn’t important. Not right now. Sanji getting better was.
“Ah, thanks,” Sanji said with a small grin. “I knew you would fold.”
“Shut up and go back to sleep before I knock you out myself.” He turned and slipped out of the infirmary, the door closing quietly behind him.
He knew it wasn’t really his fault that Sanji was hurt—but it still felt wrong that he’d come out untouched. If he hadn’t said or done the things he did, maybe Sanji wouldn’t have been so wound up in the first place. Maybe he wouldn’t have ended up in the water at all.
Zoro rubbed at the ache in his chest, jaw tight. Love’s reckless, he thought. He’d always known that. It broke focus. Made people do stupid things.
But maybe that was just Sanji.