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garbagegarbagefruit · 1 month ago

Text

eye for an eye

Zoro x Sanji

✦ Summary: Sanji finds Zoro on Sabaody. Zoro realizes that something about the cook has changed, but he can't put his finger on it. His determination to find out exactly what it is pushes them to share a few moments that neither of them would have anticipated two years ago. But a lot has changed since the last time they were here, hasn't it?

✦ Word Count: 3.7k

✦ Warnings: light spoilers for the time skip and fishman island, light angst, references to past fights (Thriller Bark, Sabaody)

✦ Notes: I saw this beautiful art of Sanji with heterochromia and I wanted to write the moment that Zoro realizes this about him. I'm not up to date yet (just finished dressrosa) but if you like it pls let me know and I'll think about writing a part two once I've got all the lore from Sanji's backstory!

this is my first piece of writing for one piece - critiques welcome but pls be nice:)

✦ AO3 Link

divider by @drinkthesky

Zoro caught a glimpse of something golden, glittering in the sun above the surface. The pirate ship he had so unceremoniously slashed in half parted the water around them and released a flurry of bubbles as it pushed its way up. The two halves of the ship emerged, sending furious waves and a shower of salty droplets in every direction.

The source of that opulent shimmer stood on the cliff side, staring down at him with an insufferable smirk. The crew of the ruined ship were trying to give Zoro an earful but he ignored them. He was busy studying his crewmate, cataloging every change, utterly overwhelmed by the sheer relief of seeing one of his family again.

The cook had gotten taller, bulkier - rigorous training evident in the fit of his clothes. He had the same nonsensical, curling eyebrows and signature cloud of cigarette smoke circling his head like a misshapen halo. The sun gilded his shaggy blonde hair and illuminated his one visible eye. It was Sanji, unmistakably.

However, amidst the familiarity, there was some change that Zoro couldn't put his finger on. Something striking, and yet he couldn't name it. He wondered, briefly, if his scar had struck the cook in the same way. But Sanji didn't mention it. Flicking his gaze over the cook's form, he checked for new scars and found none.

There was no time to dwell on it. A barrage of classic insults and scolding greeted him from the blonde’s mouth and he found himself falling into old patterns like they had never been separated. Whatever the change was, though, it lodged itself in the back of his mind and insisted on resurfacing periodically even as the pair found themselves running toward an explosion that almost certainly meant Luffy was close.

Now that they were reunited, he had all the time in the world to spend with his crew, because he was never going to let them be separated like that again. The problem was the desperation crawling under his skin. The need to know every change that occurred, even though each one would settle heavy in his belly like a stone. Weighing him down with the knowledge that the time they had spent apart was simply gone.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

It was still bothering him, hours later. After the crew had reunited, escaped attacks from seemingly all sides, and begun their descent into the sea.

Beneath the ocean, the world was surreal and beautiful. It was like they were being rewarded for all their hard work, all that time apart. They had hours to bask in the scenery and simply be together. So many days out of the last seven-hundred-something were spent wondering what the crew was up to, and now those empty spaces could be filled in.

Sitting on the grass of the Sunny, Zoro watched the filtered sunlight shift and change with the moving water as they continued to sink deeper into the ocean. Shadows of fish and seaweed danced in a rhythm with the wavering light, the resin coating casting its iridescent glow across every inch of the ship. He was filled with nothing but quiet contentment, as the thing that had been driving him for the last two years had finally been satisfied. He was with his family again.

That should be the only thought in his mind, and yet every time he looked in Sanji's direction, he was reminded of that thing he could not figure out. He didn't particularly want to give Sanji any extra attention at the moment. He lay pathetically sprawled on his back with blood pouring out of his face from his stupid perverted tendencies. But then the blonde opened his eyes, gaze following Chopper’s pointed hoof to a school of fish as it crossed above their bubble. A beam of light kissed his features, catching his uncovered eye and illuminating the iris like a gemstone.

Zoro's breath caught in his throat, his lungs filling with something angry and burning. So, he did the only thing he knew to do when he was feeling bothered - he picked a fight.

Some senseless, muttered remark thrown the cook's way escalated seamlessly into a shouting match and from there into sparring. Zoro was immediately scolded by the little doctor for going after Sanji in his injured state. But that only spurred Sanji's ego, and Chopper left them to it with a sigh.

From the start, it was obvious that Sanji was not at his usual strength due to the blood loss. He was not weaker by much, just enough for Zoro to get what he wanted. Later, they'd fight for real and find out just what kind of training had occurred during their time apart. But right now, Zoro had a single goal.

However, the cook had started to suspect that something was up from the oddly determined look in the swordsman's steely eyes. He fought to keep distance between them as Zoro's advances invaded his space and pushed him further and further back.

Zoro regrouped and attacked with more fervor, leaving no room for retaliation. He kept his focus on Sanji's face, determined to catch another glimpse of crystalline eyes. Sanji only grew more defensive under the extra attention, desperate to get out from under the swordsman's stare.

"Just let me see," Zoro grumbled, growing sweaty and frustrated as the cook evaded him again. He had not intended to say the words out loud.

"See what? " Sanji demanded.

He faltered for a split second and his fate was sealed. Zoro gained the upper hand and Sanji went flying backwards, landing at the edge of the grass with a dull thump. Zoro wasted no time, throwing himself down to sit on his legs and hooking his own knees and ankles under and around to keep the cook from escaping. Both wrists were caught and held tightly in Zoro's grasp, and he let out a triumphant huff as Sanji cursed.

"Why are you being so weird?" Sanji barked, wriggling in Zoro's grasp.

His legs may be strong, but Zoro had placed his full weight on them and he had certainly gained more muscle in the last two years. Sanji noted this with irritation, resolving to find out exactly how much Zoro weighed these days so he could make that his new training goal.

Zoro didn't answer the question. The intensity in his gaze did not waver as he leaned forward and pushed Sanji's bangs to the side with his free hand. It was a little rougher than he meant, though he upheld the belief that his hands were not made to be gentle.

"What the fuck?" Zoro scowled, eyebrows drawn tightly together.

The answer to his own burning question lay beneath him, flushed and swearing under his breath as Zoro studied his features. It was strange and almost startling to see his whole face at once. Framed by those ridiculous curling brows, one eye glittered a beautiful green-blue, a perfect match to the ocean surrounding them. One was brown, lit up in tones of molten honey by the meager sunlight. The swordsman's eye widened, his grip on Sanji's loosening.

He was more surprised that he was right than anything - he had been certain he'd never seen that shade of amber before. When he closed his eyes and pictured Sanji, it was always with that teal-blue.

Not that he was picturing Sanji with his eyes closed, ever.

" What? " Sanji spat. He used Zoro's momentary shock to wriggle out from under his grasp and scramble out of reach, hair falling back into place. He panted, catching his breath as he matched Zoro's scowl and waited for an explanation.

"Why are they different?" Zoro's frown did not ease.

"They've always been different," Sanji rolled his visible eye, voice dripping with disdain and something that sounded a little like surprise. "You seriously never noticed?"

"How was I supposed to? You always have your hair in the way!” Zoro retorted, standing to his feet and crossing his arms over his chest. He refused to accept the embarrassment that was attempting to sink its way under his skin. There was no way Sanji had two different colored eyes and he had never noticed.

Then again. When he thought back to any time before Thriller Bark, there was a film over his memories. As if, before he'd thrust his hands into that bubble, he'd only ever been half awake. Indeed, there was something about Sanji now, whether it be the surreal lighting of the deep sea, or the new information, that made him seem so much more vivid than before.

"Figures, idiot marimo," Sanji sat back against the deck railing, procuring cigarettes and a lighter from his pocket. Zoro's eyes followed his movements, a little dazzled by his vibrancy. "The only things you notice are booze and swords."

Zoro scoffed, but didn't try to refute it. It was true. At least, before . Not now, though. He had spent the last two years painfully conscious and he would not be going back to sleep now.

"Why'd you switch your hair like that anyways?" Zoro heard himself ask.

He leaned his hip against the railing, staring down at the cook through a haze of smoke. It was quiet for a minute, that honey eye focused on something far away. Zoro had started to wonder if he'd really spoken his question out loud when he heard a quiet, resigned sigh.

"Never liked my brown eye," Sanji shrugged one shoulder, a delicate pink creeping over his cheeks and ears as he continued, "But while I was gone, someone told me they liked it. I just thought I would try something new. It's not a big deal."

The averted gaze and slight waver in his voice gave the cook away. Zoro would have known anyway, without those clues. It was a big deal. When had he ever seen Sanji change his routine? His mannerisms, turns of phrase? Even his suit was the same style that he had always worn. It may have even been one of the same ones from two years ago.

There was something there to be pieced together, taking shape in between all of the things that hadn't been said. Sanji was saying the same thing Zoro had been thinking for two years. This small change had been made like a vow. That nothing would ever be the same.

Zoro opened his mouth, words hanging off the tip of his tongue. A compliment. A thank you. Something to acknowledge the weight of this exchange. An offering of his own vulnerability - anything he could give to even things out. Sanji did not give him the chance. Whether he had someone read his expression or not, Zoro didn’t know. But he cut him off, the words coming out in a rush.

“You owe me for this.”

“For what?!” Zoro sputtered, indignant, certain that he had not done anything wrong.

“For getting in my personal space,” He said, matter of fact, “And being a freak.”

He stood with a huff before the swordsman could respond, shoving his hands into his pockets and angling his body away. He threw over his shoulder in a tone of pure ice,

"If you tell anyone else or try to tease me for this, I'll break your fucking swords over my knee.”

With that, the blonde returned to the others, clothes smoothed and posture straightened like nothing of importance had just passed between them. Nobody questioned him, chalking up the fight to their typical bickering. It was so convincing that Zoro started to second guess himself. Maybe Sanji really didn't care.

But either way, Zoro himself was stunned, scrambling to figure out how to move forward while balancing the delicate thing that Sanji had placed in his hands. The cook may have tried to veil its importance but his hollow threat betrayed him. If there was no trust between them, there would have been no confession at all.

That small secret had already burrowed itself deep into Zoro's chest, close to Kuina's dream.

Kuina's dream, in contrast, was heavy like a boulder. A boulder that had been thrust upon his shoulders and that he carried with him each day, pursuing with ferocity and equal measures of blood and sweat and tears.

This was something else. Smaller, softer. Something that wouldn't be heavy so carry. Like a pearl, made of glass and fished from the mysterious depths of the ocean.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

Zoro closed his good eye and leaned forward to rest his elbows on his knees. Behind him, the bacchanal carried on. He breathed deep, grateful for the respite offered by this alcove. The tall windows of the palace painted the balcony with patches of warm light, glittering against the empty glass bottles strewn over the stairs.

The crew, in various combinations of duos and trios, made their way out here throughout the night for a breath of fresh air. Nami and Usopp had gone back to the party a while ago, but Zoro had remained on his own, appreciative of the cool quiet. If he listened, he could pick out their drunken laughter from among the other raucous partygoers. And with his eye closed, he could find the shape of their auras, shining brighter than all the others.

He smiled as those glowing auras danced, safe and carefree. There was a lot to think about, a lot waiting for them back on the surface. But they had done good work for fishman island. And most importantly, they were all here . Together again and celebrating after a job well done. Just like before, like no time had passed at all. Or at least, it was easier to pretend that nothing had changed.

Approaching footsteps interrupted his focus, his spine tensed out of instinct. Then he registered the familiar click of the cook’s dress shoes, and his shoulders dropped. He did not need haki to recognize that sound. But he kept his eye closed anyways, watching the marbled shape draw closer. It had such vivid colors, like shades of amber and honey against a cloudless sky.

His eyelid fluttered open, and there was Sanji, standing above him. Glassy-eyed, rosy-cheeked, with his hands in his pockets and a lit cigarette dangling precariously from his crooked smile.

"I know what I want," Sanji announced by way of greeting, pointing a finger too close to Zoro's face. He was tipsy, enough for every sentence to string together into a lilting accent, a few words that Zoro didn't know sometimes making their way in.

"What?" Zoro asked, gaze falling to Sanji's mouth to watch how he formed the words. The swordsman wasn't exactly sober, either.

"For my IOU, mosshead. I know what I want," Sanji said, oblivious to Zoro's inner monologue. He smelled like wine, his lips tinted a plummy color.

"And?"

Zoro was not exactly sure what he was expecting, but it was not for Sanji to plop down next to him and lean in close. One pale hand reached for his face, clumsily clinking his golden earrings together before landing a little roughly against a sharp, bronze cheekbone. Curling eyebrows drew together as a thumb swept over the deep scar interrupting Zoro's skin. From his forehead, carving a jagged line through his eyebrow, over the delicate skin of his eyelid, and halfway down to his jaw.

"I want to know what happened to your eye. Because you won’t tell anybody," Sanji informed him. Then he snorted to himself and giggled, "An eye for an eye."

Zoro's heartbeat quickened. Of course it would, if someone who only reached for him in order to start a fight suddenly invaded his personal space. His body was reacting to a threat. And that accent was driving him crazy. He didn't know where it was from. It made him want to pry the cook open and hunt for every secret that he kept hidden between his ribs.

Sanji fed the crew every day. He kept them all alive. He was their lifeline, and yet Zoro barely knew anything about him. Did the others know any more than him? It was a thought that had been rattling around in his mind since he had learned of the cook's heterochromia. (A word that Robin had taught him, and that he had horribly misunderstood at first.)

"Well?" Sanji's voice startled Zoro from his contemplation.

Nothing happened.

It was his first instinct, but the words stopped halfway up his throat. He couldn't do that to the cook again, watch his face contort like Zoro had pierced his chest with an arrow. He cleared his throat and conjured up a different answer. One that would move him out from under the intensity of Sanji's gaze, but buy him a little time to gather himself before he had to pry open that part of his memory. With care, he wrapped his fingers around the cook's wrist and lifted that curious hand away.

"I'll tell you someday," Zoro said quietly, his voice gravelly with some emotion he didn't know the name of. "When I'm ready."

Sanji stared at him for a moment, seemingly considering. Then he shrugged and took another drag of his cigarette.

"That's fair," He said, smoke pouring out between his teeth as his eyes flicked over the swordsman's face, openly studying the scar. "But I'm going to hold you to it. Don't think I won't remember just because I'm a tiiiiiny bit tipsy."

Zoro snorted at that, earning him a half-hearted kick that smarted more than he'd ever admit. Sanji had gotten much, much stronger. He didn't bother hitting back.

"You don't usually drink so much," He said instead, shifting his focus to something far away, starting to grow uncomfortable under Sanji's relentless stare. He failed to see the parallel between this moment and his own scrutinizing glare pinning the blonde to the lawn of the Sunny.

"Happy," Sanji said in response, his cheeks rosy as he offered a lopsided grin. Placing his cigarette between his lips, he breathed deep and let his head fall back. Three defined rings of smoke rose from his pursed lips, floating for a second before dissipating into the night air.

"Show off," Zoro muttered, averting his gaze as he tried and failed to keep his own lips from turning upwards, affected by the cook's contagious mood.

"Only for you," Sanji laughed, the sound closer to a bubbling giggle. He looked at Zoro again, and all of that mirth slipped away into a seriousness. Like he couldn't stop thinking about Zoro's scar for long. "Is your eye still...."

He trailed off, wincing like he could feel the injury himself.

"Open it," Zoro said.

Sanji grimaced, but he took the offer. His touch was impossibly gentle, the skin of his hands smooth and warm, contrasting with the cool metal of his rings. He rested his hand on Zoro's cheek with much more care than the first time, fingertips brushing his hairline as he gingerly pushed up the scarred eyelid with his thumb.

That softness filled Zoro's chest with a wave of something strong and urgent. He was watching the cook’s face as he carried out his investigation, and damn those eyes really were something. He was less careful in his wine-induced stupor, letting his bangs show more of his face than usual. And the swordsman was reminded that his eyes were like nothing he’d seen before. It was not just their striking contrast, but the unreal saturation of each hue. Like gemstones, he’d thought before. Like aquamarine and tiger’s eye.

His thoughts about gemstones were cut short as he watched Sanji frown at what he saw, drawing his touch away as softly as he'd placed it. Sanji had always been Zoro's antithesis. If Zoro's hands were made to be rough, stained with blood and cruelty, then Sanji's must be meant to be just like this . Zoro silently vowed to keep them that way.

"It's-"

"Glass," Zoro finished for him, "They said it'd help the tissue heal better. Doesn't seem like my eyelid wants to work any more, though. I don't really care either way."

"Does it make it harder? To fight?"

"No," Zoro said, a little too quickly, "It won't."

He paused, and then swallowed hard, waiting to see if Sanji would acknowledge what he had just confessed. Praying that Sanji might understand what Zoro had given him. The same thing the cook had gifted him, only a few days ago.

He dared one last glance into that honey brown eye, and was met with a solemnity that rattled him. It was gone in a flash as Sanji looked away, taking a deep breath and leaning back on his elbows, head tilting once more toward the sky.

Zoro followed suit, laying flat on his back. The marble offered a welcome coolness against his heated skin. His heart was racing so wildly he worried Sanji could somehow feel it through the stone.

Something was beginning to grow in the warm biome of his chest, growing roots around his heart. A beginning, so tangible and overwhelming he could only brace himself and let it wash over him.

He remembered the last time he felt like this. The sound of his swords clattering to the ground as he swallowed Luffy's dream and exhaled his own. When he traded his life to Kuma in exchange for his captain's freedom. He had realized in that moment that Luffy had started something bigger than any of them. Bigger than any of them could even comprehend. The scale of Luffy's influence on the world had crashed into him as harshly as the pain had. And he had known that this was only the start of everything to come - the good and the bad.

He felt it again, now, as his pulse raced under his skin, Sanji's warmth bleeding into his side where they weren't even touching. Something was beginning, here. Something that made him feel wide awake, twice as alive. His hands twitched with the desire to protect it, whatever it was. To hold it tight within his grasp.

He thought back to the moment he had seen Sanji's other eye for the first time. And as the cook closed the gap between them and leaned his knee against Zoro's, the same words he had thought then became etched into his being.

Nothing would ever be the same.

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