Snow Globe

5

“Um, Zoro-san?” Brook pointed toward the direction of the tower. “The vivre card is pointing that way.”

Zoro jolted and tried to hide the blush creeping on his cheeks. “I know, idiot!” he hissed, turned around a hundred and eighty degrees, and stomped his way toward the tower. He peeked at the piece of paper on his palm one more time. The cook was indeed somewhere here in this damn palace.

Both Strawhats heard loud explosions coming from the island. A few minutes ago, they saw an army marching from the kingdom toward the thick forest of the island. Zoro wasn’t one to back down and let the bastards do what they wanted to innocent people, but they had a more important mission right now. Clenching his teeth for a second, he pushed away the urge to run after the army and turned his head around to regain his focus.

After cutting a slit through the walls and once inside, Brook ushered the swordsman inside a dark and small storage room. “Zoro-san, can you guard my body while I search for Sanji-san?” Brook asked.

The swordsman grunted in response and before he could say anything further, he saw a green soul emerge from the skeleton. Brook’s corporeal body paled and went limp against a cargo box. “Zoro-san, I’ll be going now,” he said in that ghostly appearance.

“Find Curlybrow as soon as possible. I don’t like waiting.”

The ghost laughed and passed through the wall to search for Sanji. Zoro sighed and leaned against the wall, closing his eye and enhancing his senses tenfold. He could hear the thuds of boots and clanks of swords along the hallways and from the far side of the castle.

After half an hour, he sensed a familiar aura approaching him. Brook passed through the walls again and lodged his soul into his skeleton.

“Well?” the swordsman asked expectantly with a raised eyebrow.

“It took me a while to find the kitchen because that was probably the first place that Sanji-san would be in. He wasn’t there, but I managed to know something interesting,” the musician said. “They were talking about a mysterious prisoner in the dungeons. Then a soldier appeared in the kitchen and took a silver tray filled with food. He turned around without another word and I followed him from there.”

“So you’ve seen the cook?” Zoro asked.

Brook shook his head. “No. But I know he’s there because the soldier talked to his companions stationed near the dungeon doors. He said something about the ‘third prince’s meal.’ Then I went back here as soon as I could.”

Nodding, the swordsman stood up and clutched Wado’s hilt. “Let’s get moving.”

It took a few times of maneuvering before Zoro could find the hallway leading to the dungeons. Brook was laughing at him everytime he turned around to a wrong direction and the swordsman had to send two slashes at him to shut him up.

There was an explosion from the upper floors and the whole castle seemed to shake along with it. “Heh,” Zoro said and grinned. That was probably Kin’emon and Robin.

“Stop!”

The two Strawhats halted when a brigade of soldiers blocked their path. They heard another set of footsteps behind them and it took a second for them to realize that they were trapped. “Zoro-san,” Brook said as he took his sword from its sheath. “The dungeon is right through that wall on your right. You can go in first. I’ll take care of this mess.”

“You sure?” he asked.

“Yohohoho!” Brook stood tall, placed his left arm behind his back and held his sword vertically in front of him. It was his fighting stance. “Let me enjoy a beautiful jazz with them.”

The swordsman smirked at that and took out Wado and Kitetsu from their saya. “Nitoryu: Thirty-six Pound Canon!”The wall shattered and rubbles flew out from the huge crack. As he leapt toward the hole, he heard the loud shouts of the soldiers lunging toward his nakama. He must hurry. Even though he trusted Brook, he wouldn’t want him to carry the burden of fighting with their enemies alone.

Zoro felt the soles of his boots land on a flight of stairs. Looking back and forth between the two ends of the stairs, he said, “Well, fuck.”

Couldn’t he just land directly in front of the idiotic cook? Why did he have to be stuck on choosing what the right direction was? “Fuck it!” he uttered frustratingly and let his instincts take over.

He descended the stairs and noticed the dim illumination of the torches along the walls. At the last step, Zoro saw a long stretch of a narrow hallway. He looked around for a moment cautiously, sensing another presence with him, before a voice called out to him.

“Who goes there?!”

Frowning, the swordsman bared his two katanas and ran toward the two soldiers guarding a prison cell. The soldiers fired their guns, but Zoro deflected the bullets easily with his weapon. They gasped in shock but the man didn’t waste any time, running in lightning speed and cutting his enemies in a blink of an eye. The two soldiers crumpled on the floor as blood dripped down from Zoro’s blade.

“W-Who’s there?”

His heart skipped a beat at that low baritone. His head slowly turned around to the source of that voice and his eye caught that shadow lurking in the darkness inside the bars.

“Did–” the voice paused for a moment, “–did my Father send you to kill me?”

Zoro’s eyebrows pulled together and he faced the shadow fully. “Cut that crap, Cook. I’m here to rescue you.”

The shadow went still and silent for a moment. Zoro tried to wait patiently but he still had to fucking help Brook out there. “Come on. Kick yourself out there, useless bastard,” he said.

But instead of flying bars and loud curses, Zoro was met instead by the approaching form of the shadowy figure. He saw a bare foot step out of the darkness and his grey eye travelled up, taking in the tattered clothes and the thin frame of his nakama, who was once lean and the most prissily dressed man he’d ever met.

Zoro’s lips parted at the iron mask placed around his head. He saw that clear blue eye and strands of blond hair from the eye slit of the mask and he swore that his heart just banged painfully against his chest.“Cook?” Zoro whispered in disbelief. His nakama looked so worn out. His dull gray shirt and dark pants were frayed and his usually flawless skin was blemished with dirt and bruises and nicked with small shallow cuts.

“Why do you call me ‘Cook’?” Sanji said as he gripped the bars. “How do you know I want to be a cook?”

Zoro’s throat felt dry. This person in front of him looked like a stranger who was talking with his nakama’s voice. Was this really Sanji? Their ship’s cook?

“Because you are,” he said and his voice sounded strained in his own ears.

“No,” Sanji said and shook his head. “I’m not. I’m Germa’s third Prince, Sanji. Well, was.” He let out a sigh and directed his blue gaze once again on the stunned swordsman. “You shouldn’t be here. If my father and siblings knew you’re here–”

A loud laugh echoed from the staircase. Zoro saw how Sanji’s eye widened and how he looked at him wild panic. “Hide,” he whispered to him. “My brothers. Hide!”

“No,” Zoro said frowning. “I won’t leave you.”

Sanji was taken aback by the swordsman’s words. But when he heard the footsteps growing louder, he desperately reached out for the swordsman’s arm and said, “Hide. Please.”

Zoro’s arm tingled from where the cook was touching him. He felt a rough hand instead of a smooth one and he had to think first that this person pleading in front of him was the same cook he knew. Sanji never pleaded, especially to him.

Zoro found himself complying and he sprinted toward the end of the corridor and hid behind a wall. Letting his senses to take over, he heard the footsteps stop in front of the cook’s cell. Siblings or not, the cook could definitely kick their asses.