One Piece OS collection (Zosan)

The weight of a heartbeat

In the end, it had been inevitable.

Slowly, smoke rose into the sky, the wind blowing it in all directions, as if it were uncertain where to go. Perhaps, Sanji thought, it was just as lost as he felt.
Sanji took one last drag, then he pushed the glowing bits into the ashtray just outside of his kitchen.

It was sunny outside, albeit a bit chilly. Not that Sanji froze easily.

In a swift motion, Sanji turned on his heels to get back into his own little kingdom – the galley – where he would cook the crew a fresh meal from the best ingredients to be found as a pirate out on sea.

"879 – 880 – 881 -882"

Sanji's brow twitched and his eyes furrowed but he did not stop. Zoro's push ups were of no interest to him, he thought, as his hands brushed the wooden door to the galley. Sanji did not halt, did not falter for even a second, but his ears were straining to listen to steady, grunted counting, just before the door closed shut.

It was a familiar, almost comforting sound. And this was it. The very first proof that something was inadvertently wrong with him. The fact that it haunted him, that he sometimes dreamed of those counted numbers, or that he counted them in Zoro's voice whenever he took a second to listen to his own racing heartbeat.

Sanji hated it, because he knew how far Zoro had come. How the numbers were always the same, but the weights he was lifting weren't. How, insanely enough, Sanji was rooting for a sweaty, half naked muscle-head to finish his training session. How his brain was already planning a recipe with perfect nutrients and protein for whichever specific region Zoro had just been training.

'It's my job.' Is what Sanji justifies his actions with when he pushed up his sleeves and went to wash his hands.

-

They fight. They fought often. In fact, it felt like they fought every day, at every hour, every chance they got. Swords clashed against normal, human legs, unable to cut or damage. It would be satisfying – perhaps in a way it was – if they weren't constantly insulting each other. As it was, Sanji was fuming.

"You're only getting LOST!" Sanji yells, supported by most of the other crew members.

They were heading for a new island, discussing who would be going with who and in which direction.

Zoro grits his teeth and squints his single eye. "I don't get lost! They put the signs out wrong!"

Of course it's what he says, because it's what he always says. For some reason, the walking lack of depth perception kept confusing his right with the colour of a random rock he'd fabricated in his head.

"They did NOT!"

"Did too!"

Sometimes Sanji wondered what they were even arguing about anymore.

"Mosshead!"

"Shit-cook!"

Perhaps the point of arguing with a man who rarely speaks really just is to argue. It sucked, though, because Sanji didn't hate arguing. Quite the opposite really.

Sanji scoffed as he realised where his thoughts were headed. "Whatever. Get lost. Perhaps you'll finally die. Don't bother coming back."

"I'm not gonna die!" Zoro yelled back and that was about it.

Sanji rolled his eyes and turned to Nami to worship her (as she deserved), before she sent him out to buy groceries. Sanji bowed, his own obsession distracting him for but a second before he jumped off the ship and headed into town.