ZoSan: The Flower

Chapter 13 - Sanji

Sanji didn't think Zoro understood what a loaded question he'd asked. He hesitated to answer, trying to figure out what he could say that wouldn't go too deep.

"I do think women are beautiful," he started, "at least most of them. They have such a deep capacity for love. And they're gentle and delicate and deserve to be treated well, like the shitty geezer always taught me to. They should be protected, and made to smile as much as possible. Nami-swan and Robin-chwan included, of course."

"But?" Zoro prompted when Sanji went silent again. Sanji resolutely kept his eyes forward, not looking at the man behind him.

"But," Sanji continued with a sigh, "... yeah. A lot of it is forced. Imitations of how some of the cooks I grew up with would act around women. I figured out a while back that wanting to protect them, or even being attracted to them, is not necessarily the same as wanting to date them or more. Women are... fragile." Unbidden, the image of his mother rose to his mind, and he pushed it away. "Very few of them could withstand the kind of life we live. It's rough and rowdy and violent and we're always in danger. I'm kinder to the ladies because I feel like they need an extra drop of kindness so they don't give up on the rest of us and leave. But I won't actually date them anymore. I don't want to break them."

Zoro was quiet for a minute. "I guess that's one of the biggest differences between you and I. I learned from a young age not to think of women as delicate and fragile, but as equals. Had it knocked into me daily for a while."

"Tell me the story?" Sanji asked quietly, anxious to focus on anything else.

"Her name was Kuina," the boat shifted as Zoro laid down again, talking softly. "She was my rival, first real friend, and a talented swordswoman. We fought every day after I came to her family's dojo, and every damn day she kicked my ass."

A sad sounding chuckle almost had Sanji turning around to see the swordsman, but he hesitated.

"I could beat everyone else at that dojo, adult or kid, and at every other dojo I'd visited, but not this girl who was only a little older than me. We fought 2001 times, and I lost every damn one of them. After the last one, I told her about my dream to be the greatest swordsman. Turned out, it was her dream, too, but she knew that women were seen as inferior, strength-wise, and it frustrated her that her road to it would be so much harder because of her gender. So we promised that day that one of us would stand at the top."

Sanji remained silent, feeling that there was still more to the story.

"The next day it was raining, and she fell down the wet stairs. Hit her head... And, well... my white sword, Wado Ichimonji, was hers. I want it to come to the top with me."

"Yet you didn't take it with you when you left?" Sanji finally twisted in his seat to look back at the mosshead that stretched out across the back bench.

The other man's arm draped over his eyes as if to hide his face, and Sanji wondered if Zoro hid tears. "No... I asked Luffy to plant all three in the ground when he reached the end of the Grand Line. Wanted some part of me to make it there, I guess. The closest I thought I'd get to keeping my promises to her and to Luffy."

Sanji turned back to the front and let the silence fall between them again, knowing that Zoro didn't want his sympathy or some trite expression. When he finally spoke, it was with a soft, determined voice that didn't reveal how much he didn't want to say what he was about to say. "When I was little, my mother died. She was ... perfect, honestly, although maybe that's just a child's love for his mother. Beautiful, kind, brave. She tried so hard to protect us. But she got sick from it, and it killed her. So when I ... came under Zeff's care, it was easy to believe him when he insisted that a lady should never be hit, never be an opponent. Especially when he put his foot behind the sentiment," Sanji tried to finish with a small chuckle, a weak attempt to bring the conversation back to lighter, familiar ground.

"Thank you," he barely heard the words spoken behind him, "for telling me about her." That was it. No questions, no expectations, just acceptance of what information Sanji had given him.

"Thank you for telling me about Kuina. It... makes you make a little more sense."

"I make plenty of sense, unlike your curly eyebrows." There was a smile in Zoro's voice, and Sanji was relieved for the return to some semblance of normal conversation.

"With that hair color? Never," he chuckled back.

"Do you want me to drive for a while? You've been going for quite a while now, you must be as tired as I am."

Sanji turned around again to face Zoro, surprise at the offer turning into a smug grin. "Tired, sure. Desperate enough to risk you getting us lost? Not nearly," Sanji teased the other. "Get some rest, mosshead. The sun's on the rise and we'll be back on the Sunny facing our punishments in a few hours."

The mosshead moved his hand just enough to glare at Sanji for about fifteen seconds, then he covered his eyes again. This time, he seemed to fall asleep peacefully.