The Black Water

Chapter 1: The Game

Sanji wailed in agony as he felt the bones in his index and middle finger crunch under the door. The door bounced back open long enough for Sanji to yank his hand away before the guard shut it again. Sanji repeated the sound of the crack in his head again and again for hours, silently crying as he stared at his mangled hand. His cooking hand. The hand he used to prepare meals, sautee, everything. He bit his lip and choked back a sob as he tried tearing off some fabric from his pants in attempt to wrap his fingers, it was to no avail, he needed both hands for that. 

The door slammed open as a motionless Zoro was tossed in the cell before it closed once more. "Zoro!" Sanji yelled. He watched for a moment as the bleeding figure didn't respond. Sanji limped over, he stared at Zoro, shaking him gently. The boy didn't move but a slight groan escaped his lips. Good, Zoro was at least alive. As Sanji finished his thought A cold gust of wind blew in from the adjacent wind, blowing clear against Sanji's back, sending a chill up his spine. He felt his working hand go icy with the cold as the turned purple. At this rate he was going to die of pneumonia before anything else. He groaned as he looked down at Zoro, he hated that this was his last option, but it really was. He leaned down and held Zoro close to him to try and keep some warmth between the two of them. He could feel an excessive amount of heat come from Zoro. He had a fever, no doubt about it, but there was nothing Sanji could do at the moment to help it. He pulled Zoro close as another chill went down his back. Zoro had to wake up, he had to. These words reverberated in his thoughts for hours until he eventually fell asleep.

He was warm, way too warm. He felt a cold sweat trickle down his brow as he slowly awoke. Zoro was overheating. He had to have infection spreading in some of his wounds. He felt warmth across his back and his hips. He moved his hands to the warmth on his hips. He was surprised when he was met with the cooks smooth skin of the cook. He was surprised by the gentle hold of the normally brash man. Zoro felt his hands trail down his sides to where the cooks hand held around his stomach. The cook mumbled something in his sleep and reached for Zoro's hand, holding it tightly in his unconscious state. Zoro blushed and went to pull away but stopped. What was the point in him pulling away when they both needed warmth? He relaxed his hand as the cook held it. Zoro focused on the small scars he could feel lining Sanji's fingers from years of accidentally cutting himself while cooking. The cooks palm, however was entirely unmarked and smooth. These were the hands that Sanji held so much pride in, just like Zoro held pride in his unmarred back. Zoro bit the inside of his cheek, he was not about to let Sanji's prized possession be ruined like his was. He was going to get then out of there, he had to. He began running through everything he knew of their situation.

Sanji's hand started to move as he awoke. Zoro lay still, not wanting to agitate his own wounds. He felt Sanji begin to pull his hand away, but pause briefly as he registered what he was holding, at the realization, he quickly yanked his hand away. He stayed close to Zoro as he looked the marimo. Zoro was pale and sweating profusely, his face was slightly contorted in pain. He pushed some of the soft green hairs away from Zoro's scarred eye as he looked in concern. Zoro may not wake up from this.

Zoro very gently opened his working eye as he eyed the cook "Oi." He muttered. Sanji stumbled back, quickly throwing his mutilated hand behind his back. He grinned goofily, it didn't meet his eyes. 

"You had me thinking you weren't going to wake up." Sanji laughed softly.

"So you decided to cuddle my dead body?"

"Oi, oi, oi. Shut up! It was cold!" Sanji growled.

Zoro laughed quietly, at least he could still mess with the cook. Sanji watched as Zoro hoisted himself up against the wall. He rubbed his working hand against his chest. He could feel Zoro's blood sticking to his chest. He cringed slightly at the wounds. He really could go for a cigarette right now. He felt the familiar gnawing crawl in his chest as the desire for nicotine became more prominent. He remained seated in the middle of the cell as he looked up to see Zoro staring at him. His onyx eyes glimmered with something concerning, but weirdly comforting. His eyes scanned down Sanji's body till they got to the spot where his hand was hiding behind his back. Sanji's hand instinctually throbbed.

"Oi, what are you hiding back there?" Zoro said in a lowered tone, closing his eyes as he leaned his head back.

"Nothing." Sanji smoothly recovered. "Nothing at all. It's fine." He said the last part a bit quieter.

"Don't make me come over there and fuck my wounds up to make you show me." He opened one eye and leveled it at the cook. "'Cuz I will." The two had an intense staring match, Zoro's look explaining all too well that he wasn't afraid to reopen his wounds. Sanji sighed, slowly pulling his broken hand away from his back. "Fuck." The swordsman quietly cursed. He could feel bile rise in the back of his throat as he stared at those hands, those precious hands that he had spent that quiet hour appreciating. Sanji treasured his hands more than anything. He learned a whole style of fighting that protected his hands. Zoro was fuming.

"How did it happen?" He growled. Sanji just lowered his eyes. "How did it happen?" Zoro spat each word out sharper than the last. "San-" Zoro began to press before Sanji cut him off.

"They were going to take you." He said quietly. "I couldn't let them do that