Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“Wahoo~!!” Sanji cheered, a bag of groceries cradled in one hand as he sauntered through the island market.

The Straw Hats had only arrived at port this morning and Sanji felt like he was on cloud nine. This place— nicknamed “Siren Island” by locals— was truly a paradise to the romantic cook. It was a beautiful, lush piece of land with lots of delicious produce, a bustling fish market full of sea creatures he rarely got to cook, and a boisterous entertainment scene, with the focal point being their staged mermaid shows! Despite the crew’s initial apprehension, the mermaids were simply human actors in costumes instead of actual mermaids being forced to perform, but the outfits were so detailed and lifelike, and the choreography was dazzling to the eye! If he didn’t have obligations, Sanji could’ve simply watched the women swim and dance the rest of the day.

“Oh, that public show was a breathtaking display!” Sanji grinned, a skip in his step. “The actresses were sooooo cute, I wish I could’ve gone closer to the glass to show my affections properly! Zoro, don’t tell me you weren’t enchanted~!”

He didn’t have to spare a glance to know that the crew’s trusty swordsman had wandered far off, with his half of the groceries in hand. Normally, Sanji would start yelling for him; he entrusted him with helping the cook shop, and being short a hand wasn’t ideal. But for once, he didn’t feel like hunting the brute down immediately. Instead, he indulged in the delusion that Zoro was totally there and listening intently for once, and figured he’ll find him when he found him. His good mood wasn’t going to sour yet as his shoes clicked against the burgundy brick road.

“I’ve seen some really interesting souvenir shops around!” Sanji continued, nearly humming to himself as heart-shaped plumes of smoke emitted from his cigarette. “Lots of ‘mermaid scale’ replicas and little trinkets that look like they’re made from pearls. Maybe I can take Nami and Robin shopping next time and see if anything catches their eye!” He giggled to himself just thinking about the ladies, yet he could feel his mind drift to someone else.

“Oh, and the salmon that they had at the market looked delectable and weren’t too pricey. We should stop by before going back on the ship!” He grinned to himself, taking his cigarette out to blow out a small heart-shaped smoke ring; even if the guy wasn’t here, doesn’t mean he can’t still show off. “I could make some really great meals; I know you like smoked salmon in your onigiri, but maybe I could even purchase some salmon roe for some dishes I know you like—”

“You seem like a man with impeccable taste!”

Sanji froze, the sudden voice pulling him out of his fantasies. As he put his cig back between his lips, he took stock of his surroundings; he had wandered to a more desolate corner of the food market, where the patrons were more sparse and the brick road had weeds growing between the cracks. Wow, the swordsman was rubbing off on him, he wasn’t even paying attention. Luckily, looking back, he could clearly see the market center from where he was, which would easily lead him back to port. He whipped his head back ahead, spotting the lone food stall that could have called out to him.

As he approached, Sanji saw that the voice belonged to a tall bespectacled man with slicked black hair wearing a cerulean suit and black apron, standing behind a simple wooden booth with a maroon curtain behind him covering some back area. The only thing out on display was one flat, circular tin with an ultramarine label of a mermaid, and what looked like a black caviar key.

“Sorry, sir,” Sanji chuckled, hoping the man didn’t hear his weird ramblings, “were you talking to me?”

“Oh yes!” The vendor grinned, both hands raised near his head to convey his high spirits. “I could hear that you were talking about the local seafood and, from the way you carry yourself, I could sense that you are someone who really knows their way around high-end cuisine!”

“Ah, well…” Sanji stood a bit taller, feeling pride ooze off of him in an instant. “I would say that’s accurate.” As if attempting to appear more polite, he took the cigarette out of his mouth and put it out on the heel of his shoe. However, despite the praise, he could feel that something about this booth was off. Even the smaller booths he’s passed, with farmers only selling their crops in baskets, the presentation was way different. This… seemed more like a trap. 

Sanji chewed on his bottom lip, glancing back towards the bustling market square, hoping to see a familiar green dumbass lost in the crowd. “But uh, I’m carrying enough groceries and the like. I’ll have to pass on purchasing anything else until later. I can definitely come around tomorrow and—”

“Oh yes, I understand, sir!” The vendor chirped, clasping his hands together. “You seem like a capable man, I’m not asking for any commitment! I only think that you would be interested in our specialty item, and I ask you to give it a chance! There’s nothing like it anywhere else on the Grand Line!” He made an outward sweeping motion with his arms, barely brushing against the curtain behind him.

Well, that was a load of crap. This guy was desperate to make a sale, and that wasn’t surprising with how this side of the market looked practically abandoned. He needed to cut his losses and leave. It’d be easier if he had some backup; he wasn’t usually bad about handling pushy salespeople, but this guy was giving him weird vibes.

Yet Sanji found himself glancing at the tin and key in front of him. He sighed, pinching the ridge of his brow for a brief moment. He was an idiot. “Okay, you’ve got my attention. But please be quick, I really need to get back.”

He could practically see light shine from the salesman with how he smiled, clapping his hands as he gracefully picked up the tin and key. His movements were deliberate, slowing and stopping in a manner to make a show of the process as he picked up the black metal key— which, upon further inspection, also brandished the image of a mermaid— and carefully twisted it underneath the tin lid. With a pop, the vendor placed the key down and delicately opened the lid, setting it aside.

The vendor held out the open tin to the pirate, carefully filled with beautiful navy blue fish eggs, shimmering like dark pearls and practically glowing in the evening light. “This here is a rare island delicacy: Mermaid Caviar!”

Marveling at the cluster of eggs, Sanji couldn’t help but think back to all the ladies he had been swooning over since they got here, and then to all the merfolk the Straw Hats had encountered on their travels, and how it felt like they were of the same kind of beauty. But then, at the thought of a ‘caviar’ made from them, his face twisted in abject disgust. The vendor cackled.

“Oh no no, sir, I can already see what you’re thinking,” the salesman interjected, “and it’s ‘mermaid’ in name only. It’s harvested from a special fish that frequents the island. It has a rich taste that rivals common caviar, and… well.” He looked off, acting coy to prompt a response. Sanji wanted to roll his eyes.

“Well, what?” Sanji asked, playing along against his better judgment. The vendor beamed, waving his free hand around the tin as if to imbue it with some extra mysticism.

“Legend says that it’s a remedy for people with broken hearts!” He proclaimed, his grin stretching to a concerning degree. “Just a dollop and you’ll feel yourself forget all your troubles and start anew! Please, I insist you at least try a sample to see if it’s to your liking!”

He should know better. 

He’s worked in the food industry for a long time; the concept of selling some story to get you to buy some cure-all food wasn’t new to the cook by any means. Likely, the stuff will taste salty and bitter and of lower quality than common caviar, or even of common roe, but the vendor will thread a story about how the taste is mature, like love itself, and charge him a fortune for the privilege of buying it. No, even without all of that, wasn’t it strange for an incredibly rare and desired food to be sold at an unmarked wooden stall, manned by just one person? This had to be some sort of con. Even on the Grand Line, there couldn’t be something that ‘healed broken hearts’ just like that.

And yet, Sanji imagined a shock of green hair for a moment.

He felt his heart throb a bit.

He swore he felt eyes on him, too.

If it was just a taste, that’d be fine, right?

Sanji licked his lips. “Will the sample cost me?”

The vendor smiled a little too hard. “No money required for a sample!”

He knew he was a fool the moment he asked, yet his body moved automatically. Slowly, carefully, he reached out for the vendor to place a gentle portion of the pearls on the back of his free hand. He only stared at them for a second before gently licking the eggs off, feeling them pop against the roof of his mouth before swallowing. The taste coated his mouth; they definitely tasted salty, but it was strangely sweet as well. The flavor was complex, and after some deliberation, Sanji decided that he did really enjoy it. Though he could imagine eating this with a really nice bottle of white and some toast points, it was definitely a strange sell with the whole “start anew” thing.

Unfortunately, the vendor could probably sense his favor, and began to rub his hands together.

“Now, I knew you were a man of great taste, so how many tins would you like? We sell a variety of portion sizes, but right now they’re all sequestered to this back area, so please follow me—”

Sanji put up his hand in a sort of surrender. “Ahh, it is truly delectable, but I’m afraid I don’t have the cash on me to purchase any!” He laughed nervously, thinking about how to diffuse the situation he knew was approaching. He knew he had no business sampling this; he couldn’t possibly afford it, even with an exorbitant loan from Nami. And such a fine taste would be wasted on the ship anyway. No, he needed to make a covert escape without offending the poor man! “Perhaps when my next paycheck comes in, I will come back and buy some tins. I’ll certainly recommend—”

As he started to put distance between him and the booth, Sanji’s back bumped into a solid body. He barely had to turn his head to see two hulking men behind him in matching cerulean garb, crossing their arms in front of their chests. Well, perhaps he was wrong about the booth not seeming like an upscale food stand; the man certainly had the manpower for it!

“Oh, my dear friend, it’s like I said: no money is required! Rather, there is a different price that needs to be paid.” The vendor’s smile didn’t waver, yet in Sanji’s eyes it morphed into something sinister. The man’s arm shot out and grabbed Sanji’s own, some of the groceries he carried toppling over onto the ground as he pulled the cook towards the back of his stall.

“Hey!! Those apples were on sale, jackass!” Sanji growled, trying not to make his nerves known. He yanked his arm away, but the two men behind him started to advance, pushing him forward. If there were any locals nearby, they turned a blind eye to the commotion.

Yeah, okay, the time to not make a scene has passed. 

The pirate cook dropped his brown bag and turned his heel to kick the two men behind him, the speed sending sparks in the air. As his kick connected, sending one of the goons a distance away, Sanji felt himself wanting to cough, the taste of the caviar still in the back of his throat. He clutched his chest, pain spiking through it for a moment as he gasped for air. The salesman chuckled, his face shifting as the other ‘employee’ took out a knife and… a fishing net?

“It appears we’ve got a live one, boss.” The unscathed henchman grumbled. Sanji coughed, feeling off-rhythm as he adjusted his stance to fight. This was just what he needed, to get in some stupid brawl on the first day in town… Zoro really WAS rubbing off on him!!

As the henchman with the net bellowed, poised to charge, Sanji heard the distinct whistle of a sword slicing through air. After a breath, the fishing net was in tatters, and the goon had a giant gash in his chest.

As the broad man fell towards the brick ground, Sanji barely had to turn his head to know who was behind him. A wild smirk bloomed on his face.

“Glad I found you, mossy!” He snickered, stretching his neck as he resumed his stance.

“More like I found you, Curly Brows!” Zoro yelled, his voice still managing an edge of amusement beneath the clear annoyance. “Not like you to be sloppy. You really think you can afford to be wasting time here?” Sanji heard the distinct crumple of paper; the bastard managed to keep track of the groceries! How sweet.

“Sorry sir!” The creepy salesman quipped, approaching the two as Sanji coughed again. “But this fine gentleman made a commitment to buy some high class food here!”

Zoro scoffed, shifting his sword to point at the vendor. “This man is no gentleman, and I doubt you could’ve sold him on some crap like this without at least one woman here for him to leer at.”

“How dare you!!” Sanji gasped, practically spinning towards them. “I’m certainly more of a gentleman than you, you—” He was cut short, a persistent cough wracking his body. Shit. He could see Zoro fidget in his peripheral vision, clearly perturbed. And he could also see the henchman he kicked away finally coming to. Already out of breath, Sanji made eye contact with Zoro, trying to convey a simple thought.

We need to get out of here. Now.

He could see the green-haired pirate weigh his options, clearly itching to slash these chumps. However, he could see there were eyes on them; one of them wasn’t in any shape to fight, and more opponents could start swarming in. To Sanji’s genuine surprise, Zoro growled and sheathed his sword.

“I don’t care what the cook owes you, we’re leaving.”

In a flash, Zoro ran past the vendor, grabbing Sanji in his free arm and holding him around the waist like another sack of groceries. The blonde pirate would never admit the embarrassing sound that erupted from his body when he was swept up. Before he could start loudly complaining and hitting his fists against the swordsman’s back, he caught a glimpse of the seedy vendor staring as they ran past. 

He swore that the man had a wicked grin on his face.

“Well,” Chopper sighed, “It’s not good, Sanji.”

He could’ve guessed as much.

Right now Sanji sat on Chopper’s medical bed, the rest of the crew flanking him as they awaited the results. It was a cacophony when Zoro basically threw Sanji up to the deck, even though the general urgency died down when it was clear nobody was chasing them. The swordsman simply climbed aboard to a prone cook and a panicking doctor, pointing to Sanji and proclaiming “he ate something weird.”

Recounting the details of the encounter was embarrassing to say the least, but it was clearly necessary with how Sanji was feeling off. Perhaps those weird eggs were actually drugs, or were meant to make him sick; he’d like to think he was smart enough not to be poisoned, but he could be wrong. He impulsively reached for his pack of cigarettes when Robin plucked them out of his hand, smiling in her stern, yet sickly-sweet way. Right, no smoking in the doctor’s room.

“So, the good news!” Chopper announced, tapping his hoof against his clipboard. “It’s not a drug, nor poison. So you’re not about to die.” The room collectively sighed, except perhaps for Zoro, who scoffed instead. Chopper squirmed a bit, clearly uncomfortable with breaking the peace of the room.

“The bad news… is that the caviar you ate isn’t harmless, either.” Chopper said, his feet clopping against the floor as he paced nervously. “Whoever was trying to sell you those eggs was right; they’re from a special fish. A magic fish, in fact.”

Sanji could see Robin lean forward, her curiosity obviously piqued. Luffy scratched his head, a bit of drool escaping his mouth. “A magic fish that produces delicious eggs, I can’t see how that wouldn’t be harmless.”

“You would gobble caviar so carelessly, it’d be such a waste on you.” Sanji sneered, his nerves frayed despite his captain clearly feeling unbothered. “What do you mean ‘magic,’ Chopper?”

The reindeer fidgeted, flipping a page on his clipboard. “Well, it appears that the fish that man spoke of is an iridescent fish that breeds in a strange way; to combat predators and keep its population alive, its eggs will transform the fish that eats it into something more similar to their species, essentially taking over their genetics.”

Transform. Sanji had a sinking feeling in his stomach.

“Wait—” Nami interrupted, gently biting her thumbnail. “You said fish, but… Are you saying Sanji’s turning into a fish?”

He couldn’t hold back the cough that erupted from his throat this time, his fingers digging into his sides. Dammit. There’s no way.

“It’s not that simple!!” Chopper exclaimed, waving his hands frantically. “Sanji only ate a small portion of the caviar, and the effect on grown humans is different!! Rather than turn into a fish, Sanji is going to slowly start transforming into part-fish… He’s becoming a mermaid!”

A hush fell over the room.

Sanji stared at the opposite wall, the words sinking in slowly.

Franky was the one to break the silence: “Don’t you mean ‘merman?’”

Sanji violently gripped his hair in frustration, the hiss in his voice coming forth unbidden. “The semantics aren’t important!! I’m about to turn into something completely different!! I’m gonna be a fish!!! How do we fix this?! Am I just going to have to live in the ocean now?!”

Chopper ran up to Sanji’s knee and patted it desperately. “No, please Sanji, listen to me! There’s a cure, I’m sure of it!! We just need to find a sample of the fish eggs, and I can start reverse-engineering a way to turn you back! I’m sure of it!!”

Zoro huffed, crossing his arms. “I doubt they’ll just be out and about like they were today. The guys were shady as hell, almost like they were planning on nabbing the cook right there.”

“It’s possible that it’s the work of an island-wide crime syndicate,” Robin pointed out. “With their brand of aquatic entertainment, it’s likely that they’re luring in tourists and using the caviar’s transformative quality to trap them and use them for their shows. They claim that the performers aren’t proper mermaids, but it could just be a work-around to the fact that they were once human.”

Graaaah!! Even the mermaid shows have been tainted in his mind! Sanji is still gripping his hair, trying to calm down, when Chopper speaks up again.

“There’s one more thing, Sanji. The book I consulted didn’t have all the details but…” Chopper looked shy, as if saying the words aloud would make them true. “To be clear, this won’t turn you into a true mermaid. You won’t be gaining all the powers and benefits of becoming one; it’s something similar to a mermaid, yet different. As such, over the week that you’ll be undergoing the changes, there will be some side effects that can be a bit extreme. We’ll have to keep an eye on you and treat things as they come.”

Sanji tried to remain passive, willing himself not to look too upset. He knew he had been foolish, yet to know the depth of what was to happen made his face flush in shame. Dammit. Dammit!!

Still, he took a deep breath and nodded slowly. “Okay. Thank you, Chopper.”

The doctor granted him a sad smile as Luffy emphatically patted Sanji’s back and turned to the rest of the crew. “Alright! We’ll all need to work together to find those guys and get that delicious fish back so Sanji doesn’t turn into cooked fish!!” Everyone groaned at the mental image. Yeah, it was clear dinner needed to be started soon, before Luffy ate the boat.

“The Log Pose will take about a couple of weeks to set,” Nami continued, “which should give us plenty of time before we should leave for the next island.”

“And if the Log Pose resets before we’re able to find the cure..?” Usopp cleared his throat, clearly nervous about bringing up the subject.

Sanji stood up suddenly, plastering on a wide smile as stretched. “We’ll come to that when we come to that. Since I might be out of commission for a while, I’ll prep some meals in the meantime so you all don’t need to eat out every day.” He started to walk towards the door, already making a mental list of potential meals for the next few days to distract him from his other distasteful thoughts.

“Wait, wait!” Chopper called out, the tap of his feet following the cook out of the medical bay. “You need to stay on board, Sanji! Those people who gave you the caviar are likely looking for you! They might even be relying on the transformative properties making you vulnerable! Please promise you’ll stay on the ship?!”

The blonde pirate looked down at the reindeer’s pleading face. He snickered, knowing he didn’t have a desire to leave anyway as he ruffled Chopper’s hat. “Don’t worry, I promise I’ll stay put.”

Satisfied, the doctor smiled and ran off, the rest of the crew filtering out of the medical room to assume their own responsibilities. Sanji’s mind was racing through many things— what sort of meals should he make while this happens, what sort of side effects will crop up, what sort of food will he have to eat, what if he can’t be cured — when Zoro’s smirking face appeared before him.

“I’ve always known you had a screw loose, Shitty Cook, but the vendor wasn’t even some lady you immediately infatuated yourself with. What could possibly possess you to do something so stupid?”

Sanji stared at the swordsman, likely for a moment too long, as he contemplated what led up to this. What, indeed. He could see Zoro blink, as if something in his expression unsettled him, and the cook sneered to cover up his embarrassment.

“Like I need to tell you, mosshead!” Sanji jeered, shoving his hands into his pockets and turning away. “I’m going to wash up; I have a dinner to plan, and I ended up losing half my produce on the way here.”

He could hear Chopper’s pleas to not push himself fade as he entered the bathroom. For a moment, he pressed his back to the door, taking a deep breath to steady himself. He really needed a cigarette right now. His mind raced with what was going to happen. A transformation… He could barely believe it, even with all the crazy shit he’s encountered on this ship. But what did he expect, eating something called ‘mermaid caviar?’ Just the name gives off the impression of something rightfully forbidden.

The cook’s mind flashed to other forbidden things for just a moment, and he desperately scrubbed his hands and face to wash away the shame. He wondered how his body would react to the changes.

With a sigh, Sanji rinsed the water off his face and finally looked at his reflection. 

He stared for a minute. 

Raising his hand, he tried to wipe away the mirror.

He splashed his face with water a second, a third time, trying to see if it was a trick of the light. He pulled at his bottom eyelid, as though he’s trying to slip off a contact. He scrubbed his face hard, his skin turning pink as he pushed his bangs back to get a better view.

He stared for a long time, unblinking, until his eyes started to burn.

His eyes always had a slight blue tint to them, but people regarded them as more of a stormy grey.

Now, the last drops of sink water running down his face, his irises were a stark navy blue.

Shimmering like dark pearls.

Chapter Text

When Sanji awoke the next morning, still laying in his bunk, he attributed the heaviness of his head to lack of sleep. After all, his body was already changing without his permission, his own eyes staring back to an unfamiliar face, and the itch of whatever was happening to him killed his desire to lie still. The smart choice was clearly to work himself to the bone prepping future meals, taking stock of the kitchen, and generally distracting himself from the looming anxiety he felt stalking him. After successfully achieving all of that through the night, he managed to lay down for a few winks and it was catching up.

It’s only when he actually lifted out of his hammock and he’s blinking behind a wall of yellow that he realized the weight was his hair.

Instantly sobering up, the pirate cook practically scrambled out of bed, violently shaking his head to try and get at least one eye seeing clearly. Making a half-blind beeline towards the washroom, he wondered if whoever was on night watch saw him and commented on his predicament; if they did, he didn’t hear it.

Again, in front of the same mirror that revealed his newly-morphed eyes, Sanji glared at his face, now framed with golden shoulder-length locks. A few tugs and tilts of his head were all he needed to confirm that yeah, that was his hair on his head. He wasn’t even really upset about the hair itself; he could easily pull off all sorts of styles with his dashing good looks, and he’s sure that there was a decent pair of scissors on the ship somewhere— hell, he’d risk the fight and nab one of Zoro’s swords in a pinch. No, he was annoyed with how quickly these changes were starting to come, and dreading that this was likely the easy shit. Trying to look into his future with this curse only made him sick to his stomach.

Right. Breakfast. Focus.

Quickly washing up and running his fingers through his new hairdo, the blonde pirate tried to mentally prepare himself for the day ahead. He wasn’t some half-baked cook that was going to let some minor inconveniences get in the way of his job, electing to extract an old handkerchief from his belongings to tie his hair back. He could tell that he passed by some of his crewmates on the way to the kitchen, likely surprised that he wasn’t prepping breakfast already, yet he only looked ahead. He wasn’t going to let the rapid changes bother him, they were fine, he was great! As he started a pot of water for some rice and set out a basket of eggs and bacon, he thought of cleaning the kitchen later, tending the garden, maybe doing the laundry, sending someone besides Luffy to get more groceries for him because he can’t go into town and help them find the rat bastards that fed him— SHIT!!

Sanji hissed and flinched hard, an egg slipping from his hand and smashing against the floor. In the throes of his list-making, Sanji bit his lower lip too hard, his mouth coated in a metallic taste. Shit. Goddammit! It’s too early in the morning for any of this. And on top of that, his skin started to itch badly, but he refused to scratch while he was making food. He clenched his fists hard enough to turn his knuckles white, breathing hard through his nose when he heard the door creak open.

“Breakfast will be ready later,” Sanji called, his voice clipped to show he was not fucking around, “So please wait outside until—”

“I’m not looking for breakfast, I’m looking for booze.”

Sanji let out a sigh that might as well have been all the air in his body. Of course it was him. He whipped around to see Zoro already at the liquor cabinet, rifling around as the cook made long strides over to him.

“Of course the only thing that would make you wake up at this hour is some sake and wine,” Sanji drawled, slamming his hand against the cabinet door to shut it in Zoro’s face. The swordsman scoffed, rolling his eye in the face of the blonde’s unimpressed visage.

“I didn’t get to have any last night with you messing around the kitchen, so—” Zoro froze, clearly taken aback now that he got a proper look at Sanji. The former Vinsmoke would flush over being ogled at if he wasn’t still so pissed off.

“...You look different,” Zoro finally said.

“No shit,” Sanji spat, waving his head around to emphasize his new hair length. “Don’t quit your day job to become a detective, marimo. Do you need anything else??”

“When did the fangs happen?”

“Well, it was only last night that I noticed the eyes, so— fangs?!” Sanji snatched one of the chrome pot lids that was nearby and opened his mouth, running a finger along his gums to get a better look. Zoro had to be mistaken, he was literally JUST in front of a mirror not a few minutes ago!! Yet sure enough, it was clear even on the distorted surface of the lid: where his canines used to be, he now sported longer, sharper fangs, with a few of the neighboring teeth also appearing a bit more pointed.

This had to be a joke.

“If your eyes turned red,” Zoro remarked, still managing to sound smug, “you’d basically be a vampire.”

“Ha. Ha.” Sanji gritted, feeling his new teeth brushing along his bottom lip again. There was that itch again, traveling up his arms. He was so frustrated right now that he felt like taking a bite out of the shitty swordsman’s neck.

Not like that, though.

He was so caught up in his thoughts that he didn’t see Zoro taking quick stock of his disorganized cooking station, particularly at the broken egg on the floor, until he felt his arm being grabbed and yanked towards the galley. Sanji couldn’t help that his heart skipped a beat, even as he tried to claw at Zoro’s grip on him.

“Hey, dumbass, what are you—!!”

“C’mon, Chopper will want to see you.” He despised how matter-of-fact the bastard was, now more than ever.

“I need to get breakfast—”

“You’re not cooking shit like this,” Zoro declared, stopping before the medical room to hold up Sanji’s arm. He hissed, feeling a strange pain like Zoro had scratched something against the grain.

“Shit like this is nothing, it’s just some weird side effects!” Sanji retorted, trying hard not to clench his jaw too hard. Fuckin’ marimo piece of shit bastard, he has shit to do and the last thing he wants is to think about what’s happening to his body right now, especially the fucking itch all over his arm which was driving him crazy—!!

Then, almost simultaneously, they saw it.

If Zoro wasn’t holding his arm so still, they could’ve passed it as splashes of sink water with leftover soap, or some residue from cooking all night.

But running up Sanji’s arm in small patches were clear, colorless fish scales, gently reflecting the morning light.

Gingerly, like his arm was suddenly covered in poisonous barbs, Zoro released his grip. Similarly, Sanji made no effort to lower his arm, frozen in the position.

“...I’ll see if Chopper is up yet.”

Sanji nodded curtly, lips pressed in a thin line. “Yeah, okay.”

As he propped himself on the examination table for the second time in less than 24 hours, Sanji silently prayed that this wouldn't become the norm.

The little reindeer was fussing around the room with a hot cup of tea in hand, still trying to wake up as he perused over his charts. Zoro, predictably, lingered in the back with a bottle of wine he managed to snag and some of the rice Sanji had started cooking. Well, at least that wouldn’t go to waste. Meanwhile, Usopp, Robin, and Brook had filtered in as well, saying Nami and Franky were busy fending Luffy from raiding the kitchen while Sanji was gone.

“Interesting results already!” Chopper finally said, his tea finished and his hooves furiously taking notes. “The effects are taking root much quicker than I anticipated. Since the book didn’t have details, I’ll make personal notes on the changes and their order! Ohh, this will be incredibly beneficial for future doctors!”

The little doctor briefly became a mad scientist in Sanji’s eyes, saying that so casually.

He rubbed his neck nervously, careful of the scales he felt growing there. He accidentally rubbed them the wrong way earlier, and he nearly yelped with how unpleasant it felt. “So, what, do these fish also have really sharp teeth and lustrous hair?”

“Oh no, the fish doesn’t have teeth nor hair,” Chopper clarified, looking up from his scribbling. “Rather, it’s a side effect of your body attempting to grow these!” He tapped the scales on Sanji’s forearm with the back of his pen.

“See, the genes that are responsible for hair and teeth growth,” Chopper continued, “are similar to the gene that’s responsible for scale growth in fish! So it’s likely the magic is forcing a hormonal imbalance, hence rapid hair growth and elongated teeth. As long as they’re maintained and looked after, your scales generally shouldn’t be a problem, and once they’re finished growing in, the hair growth will likely stop.”

Sanji fiddled with a stray lock of his hair, chuckling wryly. “Well, I guess that’s better than either of them falling out. But wait, you’re saying the scales will keep spreading? And, uh, gaining pigment??”

“Yes!” Chopper replied, twirling his pen in the air. “The scales right now are clear and a bit weak, but with time they’ll start to harden a bit and add color. Considering how quickly your body is undergoing these changes, I can see your scales completing their growth in a day or two!”

“That will be… interesting,” Sanji sighed. He’s glad that at least Chopper is finding some intrigue in it all.

“What color is this fish?” Brook asked, his skull rattling around with curiosity. “I’m trying to imagine what sort of merman Sanji will turn out to be~!”

“It’s an iridescent fish,” Robin clarified, “that is said to be reminiscent of white pearls. So it’s possible our cook will retain a similar look to it.”

“But!” Chopper piped up, almost excited. “Accounts say that the pigmentation is entirely dependent on the individual that consumes the eggs! So it could be any color, actually!”

This certainly would be exciting if the reality of what he was about to undergo didn’t twist Sanji’s guts into knots. Still, in some attempt to keep the levity, he laughed. “Well, that’ll be an interesting surprise.”

“Well, I dunno about you,” Usopp says, his head lolling to the side as if deep in thought, “but the obvious answer would be yellow scales, right? Like his hair?”

Sanji clicked his tongue, ignoring Usopp’s cries of indignation. “What a boring option, I’ll basically be a sea banana!” Zoro snickered in his peripheral, a mouthful of rice entering his gob.

“I feel like a color that compliments your appearance might be possible,” Robin supplied, smiling in her typical knowing way. “I could clearly see you with orange or blue scales, personally.”

“Uwaaah, what a lovely image, as expected of Ms. Robin~!” Sanji cooed, hearts practically bouncing off of him.

“The shitty love cook is constantly making disgusting goo-goo eyes at any woman in the vicinity,” Zoro snickered, his tone clearly taunting as he pointed his bottle at him, “I’m almost sure his scales will be colored some pink or red.”

“Oi, nobody asked you, marimo!!” Sanji jeered, turning his head to stick his tongue out. He’s sure his new fangs stuck out as well.

“What, you’ve got a better idea, Curly?!” Zoro countered, arms crossed in a huff.

Yeah, this is all just a little game after all. 

He put his hand on his chin and lolled his head to one side, mimicking Usopp’s image of deep thought. “Perhaps it will be a deep navy blue, like my new eyes!” Sanji offered. It wasn’t his honest first guess, but he couldn’t say that one out loud. “It’d be a good balance, I’d say, matching my natural beauty! I’ll need it to woo all the ladies in Neptune’s kingdom when I turn!”

He smiled, waiting for some sort of amusement that didn’t come.

Every pair of eyes was on him, some form of pity apparent on their expression.

Ahahaha, luckily Sanji still had his legs so he could put his foot in his mouth!! Fuck!! 

He tried really hard not to flush at his clear faux pas; the cook thought he had a tight lid on all the concerning thoughts that swirled around in his brain, but it appears there had been a leak.

“I just mean—I’m not being serious!” Sanji floundered, flailing his arm furiously as he made some attempt to laugh. “Please, don’t look so sad, it was a bad joke!” Even when the rest of the crew didn’t seem convinced, he slipped himself off the exam table.

“Look, I’ll take it easy today,” the cook ceded, hands up in a fake surrender, “and let you all investigate the town. I’ll cook you all a meal to come back to, carefully.” He emphasized the last sentence by pointing directly at Zoro, who looked away with a click of his tongue.

A trail of sweat ran down Sanji’s forehead as the silence lingered; he’d blame it on the insulation his new hair was creating.

Finally, Robin clapped her hands, her expression morphing back to her knowing smile. “I’d say that’s a sufficient plan; I’ll inform the captain, then. I’m sure once he hears the promise of a meal, he’ll be open to anything. And I’m sure if your changes give you too much trouble, you’ll be prompt about asking one of your crew for help, right?”

It was posed as an innocent question, but he knew it was basically an order. Sanji gulped and nodded.

“Of course you will!” Chopper affirmed, hugging Sanji’s leg with all his little might. “These changes will take some adjusting, but we’re all here to help!! Please, keep me updated on your well-being at all times!”

Sanji chuckled a bit as he raised his leg, Chopper still managing to stay clamped on. “Of course, doctor.” 

As the crew filtered out of the examination room, Sanji could feel gentle, reassuring touches on his shoulder. He should be comforted, yet they felt searing. He reflexively retrieved the pack of cigarettes from his pocket, careful to keep them out of sight as he made his way to the side of the deck. 

With a few flicks, his cigarette was lit and he breathed it in. He had a feeling when they got back, if more changes started appearing, they would be confiscated for good. Might as well get one or two smokes in before that happens.

He didn’t have to turn to know that someone stayed behind, footsteps quiet yet heavy.

“Come to gawk, mosshead?” Sanji sighed, a trail of smoke drifting from his lips as he cocked his head towards the swordsman.

“No, I’m just glad you’re having fun in all this.” Zoro replied, his face neutral. It unnerved the cook when he did that, when he talked shit and looked like his usual stoic self.

“I don’t know if ‘fun’ is the right word; if you recall, just earlier I was ready to kill you.” He leaves out that he specifically wanted to bite him.

“Is that not every morning?” 

Geez, was Zoro pissed or something? Sanji breathed through his nostrils, smoke searing them from the inside. “Did you need something, or did you just come over here to lecture me about how brainless I was?” He looked out towards the ocean as he took another drag, the swordsman motionless beside him. He dared not turn his way, even as he heard his heavy footsteps get closer.

“I was wondering what kind of sales pitch they had.”

The cook resisted rolling his eyes. This was just some lead-up for a jab, he knew it, yet his heart clenched. He couldn’t say it. “...Just raving about how it was some local delicacy.”

“I don’t really deal with food business like you do but even I could tell that vendor was full of horseshit,” Zoro grumbled, his eye boring through Sanji’s head. “And you’re not one to just try some high-end food from a sketchy dealer without a reason. So I’m thinking there was some other angle, or you’ve lost your mind.”

The latter wouldn’t be entirely inaccurate.

Sanji tried not to chew on his cigarette too hard. The worst part about being an unstoppable force with someone was that at some point, they could read you when you didn’t want them to. “There wasn’t anything else to it. I guess I just made a bad decision.”

The cook braced himself for what Zoro was going to make of this, whether this was simply new material for his repertoire of insults or if this meant he could no longer be trusted on the battlefield alongside him.

“...Was it worth it?”

Sanji whipped his head around to stare at Zoro, the latter’s face as impassive as usual. “Excuse me?”

“I’m saying you ended up shouldering a curse for this fucking roe—”

“Caviar.”

“Shut up,” Zoro growled. “You basically put your life down for that shit, so you must have seen something there that was valuable. Well, would you do it again? Was it really worth it?”

When he looked at the swordsman, his face seemed neutral, yet Sanji could sense something boiling underneath. He wished that he could parse what exactly Zoro was looking for, even if he couldn’t give it. It made his skin—his scales—itch fiercely. Instead, he took a long drag, his lungs burning as the smoke oozed from his lips.

“It wasn’t worth what I thought it was. But I’d be lying if I said I wouldn’t do it again.”

Sanji lifted his shoe, putting the butt of his cigarette out on his heel. A light breeze hit, temporarily blowing away all the smoke and stray hairs that mussed his face as he turned towards Zoro with something like a smile pulling at his cheeks.

“It was delicious.”

Before a silence could spread too far between them, Sanji patted Zoro’s shoulder resolutely and walked away towards the kitchen. He could tell the swordsman wasn’t completely satisfied by his answers, but he made no move to follow as the cook closed the door behind him. Guess it was time he started planning lunch.

No news on his attempted abductors, it seemed.

Sanji untied his hair, feeling its new weight fall around his face as he assessed himself in the washroom mirror. Zoro was right; the men that had targeted him weren’t so forthcoming after letting their victim escape, the booth apparently disappearing from where the two remembered it being located. According to Brook, the townsfolk in particular were very hesitant to talk to them, pretending no such people existed. So it seemed that Robin was right too, but the crew all gave him reassurance that they had some leads to investigate later. Luckily, he had all day to adjust to his new changes and cook some decent meals for their return.

Looking at his reflection like this still felt unnerving. Peeling off his clothes, careful not to pull against the patches of scales on his body, Sanji turned the bath faucet on. 

He had all the faith in them. 

No, what he really was worried about was his own bullshit luck.

Those guys knew what they were doing, and didn’t seem too perturbed when he escaped. They had a plan, and they were still in the midst of it. Not to mention things were progressing fast, faster than he thought, faster than Chopper even anticipated! These changes were superficial now, but he knew what came next wouldn’t be, and he’d be useless to stop them.

He gulped as he stared at the tub, twisting the faucet back off.

He took a careful step in, his scales reacting positively to the sensation. Despite his troubles, Sanji let out a deep, satisfied sigh as the hot water soothed his body.

Was it worth it?

It’s all that damn swordsman’s fault and he didn’t even know it.

He knew it was a bad habit. If he just focused on his job, on what he’s supposed to do, then all the other things that trouble him would surely fall away and disappear. If he was too busy chopping, sauteing, mincing, boiling, smoking, kicking, flirting, he wouldn’t feel the pain in his chest when he’s fighting alongside him. He wouldn’t think about his broad shoulders, his rugged face, the unbidden thrill he felt course through his body when they teamed up.

Sanji felt goosebumps along his arms, with even his fish scales flaring up. He clenched his fists hard against his knees as he sunk further into the bath.

No matter how much he scrubbed, he felt filthy.

He wanted to just dunk his head in the water and stay there for a bit. It’ll likely be the norm, soon. After all, this was his punishment for letting his heart take things too far. If he didn’t fall in love so easily, if he didn’t fall so HARD, with someone he WORKED WITH no less, he wouldn’t even consider the caviar! Some remedy for a broken heart?! What dipshit would believe that something so complex could be cured with a little food?!

And yet, as the bathwater grew tepid, Sanji couldn’t help but stare at the tiled wall, his hand gently grazing against his lips. The reality was that he was still that fool who believed that a remedy for his feelings could be simple. For just a moment, he held a small hope that this thing could cure it.

Well, perhaps in some twisted way it’ll do just that.

He took a deep breath, his body protesting as he lifted himself up and grabbed a towel. He seriously considered just drying off and leaving, unwilling to look at his reflection again, before he noticed a colorful glimmer. Quickly wiping the water off the sink mirror, he saw it; his scales had already started to solidify and show some pigment. 

He pushed away the hair along the nape of his neck, gently brushing the patch of scales there. He didn’t need to take a second look or adjust the light to see they were a lush, grassy green. It appeared his first guess was correct.

Sanji bit his lower lip, easily drawing blood as he imagined the feeling of the caviar popping against his tongue.

Chapter Text

The cook needed a lot of water nowadays. 

Zoro observed from the dining table as Sanji chugged another glass while stirring their lunch. 

At first, Zoro theorized he was just experiencing some withdrawal; he knew Chopper ordered that Curly Brow’s cigarettes be confiscated when they got back, as they could negatively affect his already weakened state. He did it without a fuss, relinquishing them with a smile. On top of that, everyone on the ship was aware the cook got weird when he went too long without a smoke. He’d try to offset the habit with whatever struck his fancy, ranging from chewing on various objects within reach, to testing a cookbook’s worth of new recipes, to becoming so constantly angry that he forced Zoro into daily spars to keep himself from blowing up. 

He always hoped he’d resort to the latter when he ran out of smokes, even if Sanji’s temper was irritating as fuck, but Zoro would rather die than admit it.

No, this was different. 

“Did you make the soup too spicy, pervy cook?” Zoro jabbed, head propped up against his hand.

“Like hell I did, mosshead,” Sanji snarled, a stray lock freeing itself from the cook’s hairdo as he whipped his head around. Zoro tried not to focus too much on how the cook’s new fangs gleamed threateningly against the sunlight, though he doubted his expression would give much away. “This soup is perfect, should be ready in a minute. I probably feel dehydrated because your eye is burning a hole through the back of my head, so stop staring so much.”

“I was put in charge today to look after you in case of new developments,” Zoro sighed, crossing his legs and stifling a yawn. “Chopper said the changes could be sudden, so it’d be good to have at least one other person here. Not to mention that you’re not exactly upfront about your discomforts, curly.”

Well, that wasn’t the whole truth. Zoro volunteered to keep an eye on him, but the cook didn’t need to know that; if he was going to insist on keeping his secrets, Zoro didn’t see any problem with keeping his own.

Sanji refilled his glass and chugged it again, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. “Well, you still don’t need to stare so much,” he reiterated, turning back to slice a loaf of bread. The swordsman couldn’t help but notice the distinct flush of the cook’s face, now highlighted by his green scales.

Zoro also couldn’t help that the corner of his mouth twitched up into a half-smile.

Sanji tried his best to tuck the stray hair back behind his ear and wow it was definitely longer since it first started to grow. It was strange to see how much he’d changed, even just from staring at the cook’s back. His hair already reached down to his hips when it wasn’t tied up; Robin had offered to braid it after breakfast, and of course the stupid casanova fell head over heels for the idea. It definitely gave Zoro a better view of his face, and of the patches of scales that ran up his arms and his neck.

He stared at the thin fingers brushing the green on his neck a bit too long, pulled out of his thoughts by the cook hitting the side of the soup pot with his ladle.

“Alright, snap out of it, marimo!” Sanji called, traces of pink still lingering on the tips of his ears. “Lunch is ready, so go and call everyone else for me. I’m going to eat quickly and soak in the bath for a while.”

“Didn’t you take one just last night?” Zoro groaned, stretching his back until he heard a satisfying pop. “You might’ve been cooking, but you’ve barely gone outside at all, you can’t be THAT grimy already.”

Sanji blinked. “Huh. I mean….” He scratched his chin, thinking. “Weird, I almost forgot I washed yesterday. Felt like it had been days since I last had one. Guess my internal clock is off.”

“Might be another side-effect,” Zoro supplied.

Sanji scoffed, walking to the cupboard to take out the bowls. “That’d be a strangely specific change. What’s next, the magic is also going to make me left-handed? Maybe it’s just these scales and my skin needs hydration to compensate or something. Probably just a temporary quirk.” As Sanji ladled a portion of soup (likely for Zoro; the cook always served himself last), Zoro couldn’t shake the nagging feeling that something was off. He’d have to make a note to Chopper when he got back; he knew the cook was trying to avoid going to the infirmary often.

“Regardless!” Sanji quipped, gesturing with the soup ladle with his back to Zoro. “You’re not getting out of your task, go, go!!”

The swordsman let out a long sigh, grumbling something under his breath before making a show of swinging his legs around and standing up. As Zoro stomped out the door, he could hear the distinct sound of the faucet turning back on.

It didn’t take long for Sanji to be proven wrong.

That night, Zoro woke up to the sound of soft panting reverberating off the bunk walls.

Even in the darkness, he rolled his eye and sighed. Really? This is what wakes him up?? Couldn’t this sort of thing wait??? Sure, the town seemed to have some underground criminal activity, but they weren’t out at sea either, they couldn’t possibly be that pent up. He gritted his teeth and put an arm over his face, electing to try and ignore it through sheer force of will. He’d always been a heavy sleeper; with enough luck the sound would just fade into the background.

A minute later, the panting turned to violent wheezing and coughing.

Zoro blinked. Well, if they were doing what he thought they were doing, he was pretty sure they were doing it badly.

It wasn’t until he could see a shape writhing out of their hammock that Zoro finally realized something was wrong. With a loud clatter, a body hit the wooden floor hard and alerted everyone in the men’s bunkroom. In one swift motion, the swordsman launched himself out of his bunk and knelt beside the body, everyone else groggily following suit.

There, writhing in the darkness, Sanji wheezed and gasped for air that couldn’t fill his lungs, his hand grasping around his own neck. He was scrambling, so desperately clawing at the floor for purchase that Zoro was sure his fingertips were bleeding. Everyone was trying their best to calm him, all still half-asleep, Chopper in particular rattling off a list of questions that Sanji couldn’t answer. The swordsman grabbed the cook’s body and moved his hair and hand to get a better look at his neck.

On the side, just below a patch of bright green scales, were three pink slits that moved with Sanji’s gasps. Gills.

Chugging some water wasn’t going to solve this.

“Guys, make room!!” Zoro bellowed, quickly scooping the cook up in his arms. “He needs water, someone fill the bath!!!” He could hear Usopp yell out an affirmative and his footsteps faded out the door. The crew paved a pathway so Zoro could swiftly follow, his own breath sounding as shallow as the cook’s. He could feel Sanji’s bloodied nails raking across his skin, every scratch wracked by his half-conscious body wrestling with his own lungs. Zoro’s grip was so strong as he ascended the ladder through the library that he was sure the cook was going to complain about bruises, but dammit he couldn’t let up, he needed to make sure the guy lived long enough to bitch at him.

By the time he made it to the bathhouse door, Usopp had both faucets roaring with water, the bath already more than halfway filled. Zoro decided he had no time for grace or tender care, electing to dunk the asphyxiating cook in with all the strength he had left.

SPLOOSH

Water sloshed out of the bathtub from the sudden displacement, the running faucet dominating any other sound in the room as the two men waited.

Zoro didn’t realize he was actually holding his breath until Sanji finally broke the surface, his chest heaving with a hand clenched around his neck again. But despite the hearty coughs and choking sounds, after a few gasps it was clear he was actually breathing again. Usopp let out his own gasp of relief, twisting the faucets off before falling on his ass and fanning himself with his hand. The swordsman sank to his knees, head bowed and hands clinging to the bath edge as he demanded his own heartbeat calmed down. From the commotion outside, the rest of the crew were starting to cluster just outside the door.

Shit that was close.

Too close.

“You fucking idiot,” he growled, trying to hide just how shot his nerves were. Sanji was still collecting himself, his eyes bleary and dripping with bathwater, yet right now Zoro wanted to grab the guy by his shirt collar and start shaking him with all his might because that scared the SHIT out of him, and—

He snapped out of his white-knuckled anger when he felt a wet hand gripping his bicep.

Eyes still unfocused, completely soaked and skin colored a splotchy red, Sanji was pulling at Zoro like a tether. Now, in clearer light, Zoro could see the torn skin on his fingertips, partially washed by the bathwater. When he opened his mouth, Sanji’s voice came out cracked and small.

“Zo…ro..? Zoro? Zoro…”

He’d blame it on exhaustion but Zoro could feel his temper immediately fizzle like a doused flame. He felt like he should make some reply, but it’s only now that he can really hear that his own breathing was stuttering and heavy, even though he wasn’t the one choking just a minute ago. So instead, he tightly gripped Sanji’s pale hand in his own, feeling the rise and fall of their bodies start to sync up. In through the nose, out through the mouth.

When the crew finally opened the door to filter in, Zoro’s consciousness had faded, their breaths lulling him to sleep.

That morning, Chopper prescribed that Sanji stay in the bath to keep his body breathing correctly, only allowing him to leave for brief periods with a crewmate present; like the cigarettes, the cook relented without a fuss, still shaken by what happened. He claimed that he didn’t remember much, but the feeling put a toll on his already stressed body. 

Zoro grumbled to himself as he kicked a stray pebble off Siren Island’s brick road. After that night’s incident, he insisted on keeping an eye on the stupid cook, but Nami had firmly pushed him to join the investigation in town today. He knew he didn’t have any real reason to be feeling so upset; he knew it wasn’t the cook’s fault that his gills grew in the middle of the night, he knew that he was going to be okay as long as he soaked in the tub, and he knew that he was ordered to go into town because he was clearly frazzled. That didn’t stop him from grousing, punting rocks and stray trash around this stupid island. 

He tried to focus on finding wherever the men could be operating, but every glimpse of mermaid advertising and merch around the island yanked Zoro’s mind back to the image of Sanji covered in scales, struggling to breathe. 

He wanted to burn this place to the ground. If he found that shitty glasses-wearing piece of shit, he was going to slaughter on sight instead of bothering with an interrogation.

“I’d say it’d be best to avoid killing people on the island,” a voice called. “At least in plain sight, that’d be a mess.”

Zoro tore his gaze from the road, ready to face some vendor or show peddler until he realized he was not in the main island area. His surroundings were completely unfamiliar, as if he had teleported without noticing; the maroon brick road from the island center was replaced by a single dirt path surrounded by trampled grass and wildflowers, and a foreign shore stretched further past the grassy field. The only thing that stood between the swordsman and the peculiar beach—the only place where a voice could come from—was a humble wooden house, sporting chipped periwinkle paint and topped with a rusty weathervane. Zoro squinted, shading his eye against the afternoon sun to get a better look.

Sure enough, half-hidden by a plethora of potted plants under the porch shade, was an elderly woman. She was clad in a lemon-yellow sundress and brown boots, her silver hair pinned up behind a headscarf as she gently rocked in her chair. In her hands appeared to be an embroidery hoop, a piece of white fabric fastened to it and mostly covered by some design. 

Zoro would be convinced he was dreaming, his real body comfortably propped up against a tree somewhere, if he couldn’t still see the familiar bustle of the island center behind him, albeit far away.

“Sorry ma’am,” Zoro called back, continuing up the dirt path up towards the house. “But considering the kind of unsavory characters that are hiding in this town, I can make no promises.”

The old woman tutted without looking up, a golden thread soaring across the ring of fabric in her hand. “No, I suppose not. This island has become such a sad place since that gang of extortioners took over.”

“I think you’re the first one to talk about them freely.” Zoro noted, ducking under the porch shade. 

“Not surprising! I don’t know if you’ve read up anything on this island, but it was hit by a terrible recession several years ago. That’s when the mermaid performances went from a cultural tradition to those gaudy, flashy things. Bless the sea, those blue bozos have really put this town down the hole.”

Zoro’s brow creased, taking a sharp breath through his nose. He tried not to think about the cook stuck in one of those tanks.  “Do you know anything about these guys? Where they operate, how to get in contact?”

“I’m afraid not,” the woman sighed, her chair softly creaking. “Their dealings around the island are a well-kept secret, often going underground for weeks after taking a new victim. Since they now keep the island’s economy alive, nobody who sells anything will sell them out. Any citizens who decide to snitch are often taken care of, depending on whether they seem marketable; the entire island is in the palm of their hand.”

He wished Robin would be wrong about something for once, if it’d save him this grief. “All except you?”

“All except me. I’m old enough that I don’t particularly care if they get me for blabbing what few things I know.”

Zoro laughed; he liked this broad. “Well, what can you tell me?”


The woman smiled, cocking her head to the side. “I can’t promise it’ll be much help, but do you know what mermaid caviar means around here?”

“Oh, well, we’ve already heard that it’s just some eggs—”

“No no, young man, I said what it means .” she reiterated, punctuating it with a pointed stab through the fabric. “A beautiful fish with a hidden curse is the core of our culture, and there’s more to it than a simple product. You're dealing with someone who partook in it, correct?” The woman finally raised her head enough to look Zoro in the eye, her gaze almost as piercing as her needle. He gulped, keeping his own gaze steady.

“Yeah. One of our crew.”

“Well, then I imagine more knowledge is power to you. I can tell you the folktale it originates from, though I can’t guarantee its use—”

Zoro sat down with his legs crossed, bowing his head. “I’ll be glad to hear whatever you’ve got.”

“Ohh what a polite young man!” She chirped, adjusting in her seat. The rustic sound of the weathervane gently swayed with the breeze.

“The local legend tells of a mermaid who fell in love with a man on this island, and every day the man asked the mermaid for a part of her, to show her love.” As she spoke, the rest of the island's sounds faded away, and only her voice and the sound of her chair remained.

“Her gaze.” Creak.
“Her smile.” Creak.
“Her breath.” Creak.
“Her body.” Creak.
“Then finally her heart.” Creak.

Zoro found himself closing his eye.

“After she gave up every single part of herself,” the woman continued, her stitches slowing down, “the man revealed himself to be a cruel fisherman and harvested her for her eggs, leaving her by the jagged ocean rocks. Before she died, the mermaid uttered a curse to turn the man into a delicious fish, coveted by all manner of predators for their meat and eggs, forcing him to hide in a dark, lonely grotto.”

He could hear the weathervane start to spin.

Zoro cracked open his eye. 

“Hence, the birth of the magic fish you likely seek: the Pearl Herring.”

He tried to let the silence linger for a minute.

“That’s a dark ending for such a stupid-sounding fish.” Zoro blurted out. The old woman cackled, pausing her embroidering for the first time since he got here.

“Most myths about mermaids are dark and a bit silly,” she replied, unraveling the last of the spool. “I think as humans we desire what mermaids have, the freedom inherent to the sea despite their precarious place between the two. We can’t always contend with it, so we mourn in strange ways. But you are a pirate, and are familiar with that freedom, so perhaps it’s different.”

He didn’t ask how she knew who he was, simply nodding for her to keep going.

“The term ‘mermaid caviar,’” the woman proceeded, the needle and thread shimmering in the light, “then became a sort of shorthand around here for a forbidden fruit. To be someone who partakes in mermaid caviar is to be someone willing to destroy something beautiful in the pursuit of what you love. Often it’s being willing to destroy a piece of yourself, whether you’re aware of the costs or not. But more often than not, it’s in the pursuit of love, which is what those goons typically pitch.”

Of course that’s what it was.

“The food of a lovesick fool,” Zoro scoffed, his brow creasing. “Nothing could be worth the trouble.”

“Ahh, but it goes both ways, doesn’t it?” The old woman retorted, chuckling to herself. “It’s foolish if nothing comes of it, but it’s even more rewarding if you achieve what you set out for. Do you truly see yourself as someone who would not risk something dear to reach what you set out for?”

Zoro sees a flash of the cook back on the deck, telling him he would try the caviar again.

For not the first time, he wondered how it tasted.

“Thanks for talking with me, ma’am,” Zoro said instead, bowing his head as he stood to leave. 

“Of course, though I’m sorry I can’t be of more help.”

“It was still brave to talk, if what you imply about this gang is to be believed.”

“It’s natural when you get to my age,” she hummed, finally setting her needle down and pulling a pair of silver scissors from her dress pocket. “When your days are numbered, your choices are that much more bold, or more cowardly.”

She pointed her scissors at Zoro, her expression suddenly grave against the sunlit blades. 

“You only have so much time, after all. I hope you remain bold, young man.”

With a clean snip, the remaining thread was cut.

The weight underneath her words left Zoro speechless, but he gave a nod before turning away. 

As he made his way back down the dirt path, his thoughts drifted to a taut hoop of fabric with a beautifully woven golden mermaid. Though he couldn’t read it, Zoro was sure that the stitching underneath spelled out a name.

Zoro mulled over the story he heard, trying to pick out the useful bits to tell the team. Sure, he probably could just bring someone like Robin back there, but he highly doubted he could perform the same weird miracle twice. Not to mention, if what she said about how those sleazy goons dealt with people who spoke up, a crowd would be risky, if she wasn’t already…

He bit the inside of his cheek. No, he could figure it out, they would figure it out in no time.

As Zoro approached the bathhouse door, he could make out the muffled remnants of a quiet conversation.

“...stop…”

“...if it comes to it…please consider…”

“...it won’t…”

Zoro ignored the hitch in his breath as he gripped the door handle and swung it open, not bothering to knock or wait. Luffy was standing in front of the tub, fists balled up and face downcast while Sanji faced the door, head turned to the side. When he spotted the swordsman in the doorway, Sanji’s eyes widened, and Zoro swore he heard him gasp as their captain spun on his heels.

“Zoro~!” Luffy cheered, launching himself onto him. He clung onto his torso like a stag beetle, and Zoro was sure he’d start crawling around if he could.

“Sorry to interrupt, but I’m here to keep Curly company for now,” Zoro announced, his stance undisturbed. “I think Nami and Chopper had some stuff they needed to discuss with you.” Luffy lifted his head to pout with all his might, exhaling a long sigh as he released Zoro and sunk to the floor. There was a pause, like the pirate captain was about to say something, but instead he sprung back to his feet with his usual ear-splitting grin.

“Take good care of our cook, Zoro,” Luffy said, patting Zoro’s arm as he turned back to wave. “See ya later, Sanji!” 

Sanji apprehensively raised his hand to wave back, his lips quirked up in an awkward smile. Zoro turned his back to properly shut the door, hearing the cook sigh as the bathwater splashed around.

“Thank god you got here when you did, marimo,” Sanji grumbled, taking a scoop of water to splash on his face. 

Even if it was a shallow attempt at normalcy, Zoro took the bait anyway. “That bad, huh?”

“He was mostly making suggestions for potential dinners,” Sanji groaned, adjusting himself to sit back more. “He listed off at least ten different meal ideas, but I’m pretty sure they’re all stuff he wants tonight. I wasn’t sure if I could take much more, I think he was ready to wait until I had to get up to cook dinner and cling onto me like he did to you.” 

Zoro let a huff of a laugh escape, the image clear in his head.

Even in the tub, Sanji wore a simple navy blue nightgown, claiming he wanted to still keep some modesty but didn’t want to bother with constantly changing outfits, and pants chafed against the growing number of scales on his legs. Zoro suspected he was trying to prepare for more middle-of-the-night surprises, but he wasn’t about to bring it up.

“I hope I didn’t accidentally add more scars to your canvas, stupid marimo,” Sanji snickered, idly squeezing water out of his hair. To anyone else it would sound like a taunt, but there wasn’t really any bite to it; really, he was asking if Zoro was okay. 

Zoro glanced down at the raised red marks that traveled under his kimono, decorating his shoulder and arm with a few small bandages peeking out where skin broke. He chuckled, his mouth breaking out into a smug grin as he sat himself beside the tub. “I can’t see them becoming permanent, but it wouldn’t be a big deal if a few more joined them. Rather, scratch marks like that tend to give a different image—”

“Stupid, that’s not something a man wants to hear!!” Sanji yelled, splashing some water at him. Despite his words, the blonde laughed earnestly, the first genuine laugh in a while.

He forgot how much he hated this.

Usually, even when he was at his most stubborn or Sanji was trying to act passive, Zoro could at least glean something from the pervy cook’s expression. After all these years, it felt like they had both fallen into a particular rhythm, reading each other easily and trusting each other enough to cover their ass. Now, it felt like an iron door was between them, his words barely able to reach while the other just prattled vague platitudes through the cracks like nothing was wrong. And these moments just reminded Zoro that every minute the cook was still cursed, the distance got wider.

Something in him twisted. He took another deep breath, passive again.

“Y’know,” Sanji whispered, rolling his shoulders like he was trying to convince himself his tone was casual, “I didn’t realize I was actually choking. I thought I was just reacting to a dream.”

“A bad dream?” Zoro repeated.

“Yeah. Usually they’re not that vivid, or I only recall bits and pieces, but last night it felt real.” 

A small crack of light through the door.

“Well, what happened?”

Sanji stared into Zoro’s eye for a good minute, seriously considering his words. Finally, he raised a single finger to his lips, a toothy grin stretching across his face. This time, Zoro couldn’t help his gaze from flickering to the curly cook’s fangs.

“I’ll only tell you if you promise to keep it a secret. Okay?”

He knew there could only be so many fools on this ship, especially with a cursed cook onboard. But the temptation to reach out and grasp even just a little secret right now was too tempting. Zoro nodded.

“I dreamt that I went into town to help investigate— don’t worry,” Sanji interrupted, laughing as Zoro scrunched up his face, “I’m not making any escape plans! But I nearly caught up to the crew, their backs turned to me, and I tried to call after them.”

Sanji paused, licking his lips. Zoro gave a curt nod, encouraging him to keep going. “There was a burning feeling in my throat. I thought maybe I was sick, but when I opened my mouth, it was full of salt water.” He started to fiddle with a loose scale on his neck, staring straight at the tiled wall. “It just kept spilling out, and slowly filled my vision. When I would try and yell out, I’d just blow bubbles and foam into the water, and it… stung.”

He was sure that the choice of words was an underestimate, but Zoro didn’t press.

“And that’s when you woke up?”

“More or less.” Sanji laughed, this time a pathetic sound.

“You know we won’t let it come to that, right?”

“What, you’re not gonna let me spit up sea water in some horrifying—”

“We’re not going to stop until we get you back,” Zoro interrupted, his voice firm. “And we’re not just going to dump you to live in the ocean, what kind of people do you think we are?”

Sanji blinked, his fang peeking out as he grimaced. “Hey, what the fuck are you saying, it’s not like—”

“That’s what you were telling Luffy, right?” Zoro accused, crossing his arms. “Before I came in, you were telling him that if things went south, you’d be okay in the ocean.” This time, the cook physically recoiled, clearly about to retort with something about eavesdropping, but Zoro didn’t give him room. “You think we’re some spineless bastards who are just going to sit by and let you slip away? You should know better than that, we’re not going to stop, no matter what bullshit you say.”

When your days are numbered, your choices are that much more bold, or more cowardly.

Seeing the cornered glare on Sanji’s face had Zoro feeling a little bad, but he needed to get this through his head now rather than later. And if he knew anything, it’s that they’re both knuckleheads who needed stuff said plainly; he wasn’t going to back down on this. After a minute of his navy eyes searching for something, Sanji sighed, propping his arm on the edge of the tub and letting his head sink into the crook of his elbow without breaking eye contact. Zoro tried not to get distracted by how his scales reflected against every surface in the washroom.

“I think Luffy was winding up to a similar spiel,” Sanji admitted. “Truly living up to your position as the captain’s right hand man, mossy.” 

Zoro growled, baring his own teeth. “Shut the fuck up—”

“I know, I know!” Sanji pinched his brow, his breath stuttering for a second. “I just. I believe you. That’s what I worry about. This is all a huge risk, and it’s practical to at least think of a contingency plan!” 

What a fuckin’ hypocrite. Zoro huffed, widely gesturing over Sanji’s body. “This is all well past practical, you shitty cook!!”

“You don’t think I already know that, dumbass?!” Sanji snapped, moving closer to yell in their usual manner. “You think this is something I want to do?? This isn’t a job I wanted to volunteer for!”

“Then don’t!!” Zoro shouted back, hitting his fist on the edge of the bath. “Stop thinking about that shit!!”

“If I don’t, no one will!!”

“Because it’s not going to happen!!”

“It might!!! ”

Their foreheads were pressed against each other, their hot, angry breaths mingling between them as the gentle drip of the faucet echoed in the room. Slowly, the two sat up to separate, still steadying their breath.

“Then will you at least tell me?” Zoro choked out, shifting to stare down at the floor. His left arm gripping the tub edge, their elbows almost touching; he swore he could feel Sanji’s scales prickle up, like hackles.

“Tell you what?”

“Why you ate it.”

“For the love of—” Sanji groaned, swiping a hand across his face to push his hair back in frustration. “Listen, moss-for-brains, I told you that it wasn’t your business what they said.”

“I know what they pitched to you,” Zoro declared, raising his head to look the foolish cook in the eye.

Sanji froze, his glare faltering. 

“It wasn’t some big break,” Zoro continued, feeling the words stumble out before his brain could catch up. “but a local told me what that glasses bastard was really selling. I know . I just want to know who would be worth doing something so asinine. If you’re gonna be such a stubborn dumbass about an entire crew risking their life for you, I feel like I’m owed the name of who you risked it for.” 

The two pirates stared each other down, refusing to relent. 

He hated how raw his own words left him, the persistent ache in his chest flaring like an alarm, but Zoro wasn’t in the mood to play games. Even if he knew the words were too harsh and petty and childish, he was sick of letting them remain unsaid, and lacked any patience to sit here and rehash his thoughts into some unrecognizable slurry. 

If he could bridge the gap now, there wasn’t a chance in hell of him letting it pass without a fight.

“Tomorrow.”

Zoro felt his heart pick up a strange beat. Sanji nervously licked his lips, still not breaking eye contact

“I’ll tell you about it tomorrow, okay? Just… give me a little time.” The cook, who regularly snarled and snapped at him, actually looked pretty subdued. Yet resolute.

Zoro hesitated, but slowly nodded.

Sanji smiled, or pulled some approximation of it. He despised that the cook developed such an expression lately, too.

“Having such a dashing merman onboard your ship will be quite a liability, even for a band of pirates.” Sanji mumbled, playing with a scale on his forearm. 

Zoro couldn’t keep his face from breaking out in a smirk. “Like we haven’t dealt with worse before.” 

“Then I hope you mean what you say,” Sanji replied, his eyes glimmering. 

“I always do.”

The next morning, the cook could no longer speak.

When the diagnosis was confirmed, the crew discussed that with limited communication and the progression of the curse, Sanji would be safer being relegated to the bath indefinitely, the crew agreeing to ration the prepped food and delegate Sanji's responsibilities amongst themselves. Again, the cook took it in stride, and Zoro found himself mentally begging for the man to get pissed, like he knew he was. While Chopper took the cook’s vitals after breakfast, Zoro even wondered whether the cook knew his voice would be gone today, but he dismissed it.

Zoro wanted to say something to him, like “well, at least we found a way to make you shut up, stupid cook,” or “if you don’t like talking to me, curly, you could’ve just said so,” but it all felt wrong. He needed to say something light, something familiar to their old conversations, so that he didn’t feel so frustrated as he rested his head on the edge of the tub, but any attempt died on his tongue. Guess even a shallow attempt at normalcy wasn’t easy.

Instead, he settled on just saying “I’m gonna be out patrolling today until late” as he sat with his back pressed against the bath.

Sanji sighed through his nose, softly nodding his head. His hair was essentially a golden curtain now, the ends long enough to pool and float in the water even when he sat up at full height. Zoro had to turn away to resist pulling the bangs back to see him better.

“Robin promised to keep an ear to the room in case you need something while we're out,” Zoro continued, feeling weird carrying the conversation like this. “And Chopper is investigating close to the docks, so they’ll be near for any problems. I think they mentioned splashing to get their attention, or something like that.”

The blonde pirate tried to speak, forgetting himself for a minute, some strangled sound emitting from his warped vocal chords. His hand flew up to his mouth, face burning in embarrassment. Zoro can’t help but chuckle softly, much to Sanji’s annoyance.

“No need to be shy, cook, it’s fine.” Zoro reassured, patting Sanji’s shoulder. The cook clicked his tongue, looking away, but he could still see the tips of his ears dusted a light pink. He resisted another strong urge to reach out and brush his hand against them. Even with the terror of these changes, Sanji looked and felt like something precious to him; it was a complicated feeling, knowing that he was suffering, but after every slight and squabble Zoro found himself wanting to just help share the pain.

Instead, Zoro clutched his chest. Even as he tried to claw his way, he could feel the distance between them growing too far for him to reach.

“Look, about what I asked yesterday,” he started, averting his gaze as Sanji visibly tensed. “I know you can’t tell me as easily now. And honestly, you don’t have to anymore, it doesn’t really matter. I guess I just…” He scratched the back of his neck, the image of an abandoned mermaid appearing unbidden in his mind. “I was just worried. But whatever, you can keep it your business. Sorry for prying.”

He could see Sanji’s head bow a bit, like he was trying to hide behind his hair. Zoro sighed, accepting that as the final say on the subject as he heaved himself onto his feet. He gave a quick glance and nod towards the quiet cook, muttering “I’ll be back” as his footsteps echoed in the washroom.

“—!”

Zoro stopped. 

He whipped his head around back to the cook, catching Sanji with an expression he could only describe as yearning before he startled. He immediately colored a dark red hue, furiously shaking his head and waving his hand to send the swordsman away. Zoro hesitated before leaving through the bathhouse door.

He took a seat by the ladder, feet dangling out the entryway.

Just now, Zoro heard a sound. It wasn’t any words, just the weak sound Sanji made now.

Yet he was sure Sanji had just called his name.

Chapter Text

Sanji turned his hands over and over again in the afternoon sun. Even after all the care he put into them, he couldn’t help but think it was a shame they turned into this.

Holding them up to the window, fingers splayed, he watched the sunlight try to filter through the new webbed flesh between his digits. The tissue felt like it’d be delicate or tight, but it didn’t give under Sanji’s experimental pokes. Along with that, his fingertips were now what he could only describe as claws, tough and green to match his scales.

He could feel himself clench his jaw, but paid enough mind to not bite his lip. No matter what strange types they encountered, mermaids were always these beautiful, mystifying figures in his mind, ones that inspired half the sailor songs he’d memorized. 

Looking down at his reflection in the bathwater, Sanji carefully ran a claw beneath his fangs, face almost completely foreign to him. Right now, he didn’t feel like some beautiful thing. He didn’t even feel like just some fish man. He felt like he was on the verge of becoming a sea monster, some wild creature. Well, maybe that’s what he needed to be right now. This whole process was proving that he wasn’t adapting as well as he hoped; the minute things got difficult, he felt his whole body rejecting the experience. Even the other day, the minute it got a little too complicated to say what he wanted to Zoro, he just… shut down.

No, in the moments when he was floating on the bath surface alone or taming his unruly locks with Nami’s hairbrush, what he felt was not beautiful or alluring, but delicate. Fragile. Prey.

He splashed at his reflection, upsetting his image with the ripples.

Fucking coward.

“Are you feeling alright?”

Sanji languidly raised his head up towards Usopp. It had been his turn to keep him company, bringing him lunch and whittling away at some block of wood, and he already talked Sanji’s ear off about how their island treks had been going. The cook’s expression must have been miserable because the poor guy started immediately backpedaling. “Oh, no, I just mean that, uhh… I could just sense you’re not in a great mood and I-I saw there are some scales missing, and parts of your skin look raw so—”

Without his voice, Sanji was trying to keep a relatively neutral air to him; he knew his crew could read him like a book with any exertion of Haki, but he felt too vulnerable to just keep his heart open. Right now, he didn’t want to give away any more than needed, keeping his feelings under a tight lid while he chose what words to project.

I’m fine , Sanji thought. Tired. Scales fell off. As if to better clarify himself, he scooped a few scales from the tub floor and dropped them back in, pantomiming them falling off his arm. It was mostly a lie, though; they fell off because Sanji kept running his hands across the patches and anytime Sanji felt one even slightly loose, he’d pick it off. He’d been tempted to just start plucking them all off in bouts of frustration.

Usopp pulled a face, clearly unconvinced; after all, if anyone could detect lies, it’d be him. Yet it only lingered for a moment before he traded it for a plastered smile. “Weird, perhaps it’s something like preening! Wait, that’s birds, maybe it’s shedding. Do fish shed? Perhaps it’s a nutritional thing, I’ll let Chopper know later!”

Ahh, and there it is; he wasn’t making a fuss now because he was reporting to Chopper about this later. Sanji could see it now: an extensive lecture, more watchful eyes during more frequent visits, maybe even some poking and prodding from blood tests… 

He probably had another miserable expression because Usopp sputtered a bit to change the subject. “Well, actually, I mean, it’ll probably take awhile for him to attend to you; everybody is rushing a bit to get things done today because a storm is rolling in a few hours! Nothing nasty that would threaten the ship or anything, but it might be a bit rocky here.” He paused, his lips pursed as he thought. “The crew is likely going to leave someone behind to watch the ship while everyone else takes refuge in one of the island hotels. It’d be incredibly risky with how much those guys seem to be covering their tracks, but we might be able to sneak you in with us. But, uhh, there’s no guarantee the tubs in the rooms will be big, or if they even come with bathtubs, I guess. Huh, maybe I’ll have to do a little reconnaissance…”

As Usopp began to mumble some plans to himself, Sanji couldn’t help but laugh, air escaping through his nose with a toothy grin on his face. He placed his hand on top of Usopp’s, prompting the sniper to snap out of his ramblings and look at him directly.

I’ll be okay here. Promise.

This time, Usopp’s expression genuinely softened, nodding furiously to hide his embarrassment. “W-We’ll try and keep an ear on the ship, and we won’t be far in case something happens. And if worst comes to worst, we’ll run through a tsunami to get here!”

Sanji nodded, looking back down at his reflection across the bathwater surface. He decided not to dwell on the worst case scenario.

The Thousand Sunny was in a deep, deep sleep tonight, gently rocking against the storm. The swordsman was on night watch up in the crow’s nest, having briefly checked in on Sanji after some prepped dinner, leaving him alone in the bathhouse. 

In the darkness, Sanji sat with his back to the window, listening to the steady taps of the night rain. He should be in a deep sleep too.

Instead he slowly stood, legs a bit unsteady from their lack of use, and stepped out of the tub. He tried his best to not make any big splashes; Robin wasn’t necessarily a light sleeper, nor was she listening for every single splash he made, but he didn’t want to risk her alerting the whole crew on the island.

After all, what he was about to do was ten times more foolish than taking that caviar.

Treading cautiously to avoid as many squeaky floorboards as he could, Sanji made his way out of the bathhouse. There, underneath the sink, was a small burlap sack that he had stashed before he lost his voice: a full set of his usual clothes, kept there just in case. 

In case of what? a voice in his head wondered.

Abandoning his soaked nightgown in the sink, Sanji quickly started to change into a simple dress shirt and slacks, trying not to linger on his reflection for too long. The pants still grated against his scales, but he just quietly hissed through the discomfort. For his purposes tonight, he only needed basic coverings, leaving his suit, tie, socks, and shoes in the bag. 

With all the grace he could muster, Sanji descended down the ladder to the library, breathing a small sigh of relief to see it was empty. He pried the library door open, making some silent prayer that the mosshead was asleep at the nest like usual. When he didn’t hear some sort of alarm or yelling, he assumed he was in the clear, quietly padding across the deck and down the gangplank to the docks.

Even though the rain soaked through his clothes and chilled him to the bone, Sanji sighed as he felt himself relax into the water. The dense air felt so fresh now and the rain felt cleansing against his skin, both halves of his body breathing.

In the distance, he could see the faint orange glow of the town center, almost glittering from the downpour. Mermaid shows seemed to run late into night, even in this weather; maybe the atmosphere provided some extra spectacle rather than nuisance. Sanji turned away, staring down the line of ships bobbing on a stormy sea. At least the fisherman and sailors that ran the dock had retired somewhere, leaving the wooden walkways practically abandoned. 

There’s an itch under his skin that told him to check the marketplace and look for those bastards himself, like he’d be better at searching in one night than the rest of his crew has been in over a week, but he paid it no mind. The market likely had some late-night stalls open if the shows were still running, and he was thinking straight enough to recognize running right into the maw of the beast was a terrible idea. Not that what he set out to do was a good idea, either. He kept walking down the wharf, letting himself be enveloped by the deep darkness that almost seemed alive. 

He closed his eyes, flexing his toes to feel the damp planks beneath his bare feet, worn down by hundreds of locals and tourists. It felt strange to be standing in the open air like this again, the hairs on his arms standing on ends against the wind. Sanji knew he didn’t have the entire place memorized, but he tried to focus on his other senses to lead him, listening to the gentle splashes underfoot through the island shower. He heard the waves crest against the shore nearby, the pelting of rain against the wood, the distant rabble of locals still bustling in town.

He took a stuttering breath as he started to gradually pick up the pace.

Sanji stopped listening, feeling the rain hit his long hair, clinging to every part of his body like a web. He felt it trickle down his face, past his navy eyes and past his bruised lips that tried to heal from accidental teeth piercings. He felt it all drip down his neck, his gills drinking everything up to keep him from choking.

He started to lightly jog.

He felt the rain run down his arms, dripping off his claws. He felt water slip off every scale that marked his body, scratching against his clothes in a numb ache. He felt the rain travel down to his legs, where the patches clustered to nearly full coverage, where fins started to sprout on his calves, where Sanji was sure his next change would occur.

Faster,
faster,
faster .

When he finally opened his eyes, he was sprinting at full speed.

He felt mud and gravel sticking to his feet, sweat and grime already developing a film along his skin. At some point, he abandoned maintaining a proper running form, so it didn’t take long for his muscles to start screaming at him to slow down or stop. His lungs—or the facsimile this curse had warped them into—burned in the same way his cigarettes burned; an addictive searing from the inside out. The rainwater and tears mingled on his face, blurring his vision. 

He didn’t care. He keep running.

Down the docks, past the roads, through the trees, to no particular place.

He didn’t stop. He couldn’t stop. If he stopped, he’d have to go back to that tub and wait for sleep to twist and mangle his body into some new shape. He’d have to go back and face all the despairing expressions of his crew, he’d have to face Zoro looking at him like he was on his dying breath, he’d have to face his next change, his prison, his demise. He couldn’t stand waiting like that, not right now, not for these few minutes at least. Even if it meant he might be stranded, even if his legs bled trails in the dirt, even if his bones broke, even if he was caught by—

thud

He extended his arms just in time to cushion his momentum against a tree, pain and exhaustion finally catching up to him. His whole body was trembling, threatening to take him down like a lead weight. At some point, he gritted his teeth too hard and he felt his lower lip bleeding again. Despite everything, he counted himself lucky that the tree had weak shade and still allowed the rain to pour on him, his chest heaving to catch his breath. He quickly surveyed that he was on a wooded hill, no brick or even trampled dirt path to be seen. He’d managed to get even more lost than Zoro this time.

His heart squeezed inside his chest. For a brief moment, he considered waiting here until the rain stopped.

Sanji flexed his fingers against the tree, already slightly splintered from the bark. His claws scratched against the wood, effortlessly carving little marks. He clenched them into fists, pushing himself off the trunk, his brow furrowing as his breath quickened. With a roar deafened against the storm, Sanji reeled back and unleashed a powerful roundhouse kick through the oak. Any flames he might have summoned up immediately dissipated against the chilled air, his leg covered in a brief steam.

For a moment, he just stood there, gasping for air in the rain. Then he felt a lump in his throat, barely registering the pressure behind his eyes before tears started spilling.

Blood started to seep off his chin as he bit his lip harder again; he couldn’t even make much sound, much less anything that could be heard above the torrent, but he still felt his body try to hold back his cry. Because he knew he didn’t want to be stranded, or found by those unsavory types who cursed him, or to otherwise disappear on the island. He didn’t want to abandon his crew—his family.

He just needed to run one last time. But he wasn’t about to just run away.

After a few minutes, when he finally felt his body regain some of its strength and his tears were spent, Sanji turned back. Fortunately, despite how he felt, the distant glow of the late-night mermaid show could provide a steady beacon. Still, he took a moment to close his eyes and feel the sting in his footsteps, thinking about how he would get back up to the bathhouse with his exhausted feet.

His eyes shot open. He sensed something.

Someone was waiting for him.

He gulped, trying to tamp down his erratic heartbeat as he walked a few steps down the hill. There at the bottom, facing his way with his arms firmly crossed over his chest, stood Zoro.

Shit.

He mentally chastised himself for counting on Zoro sleeping through his whole escapade; for as oblivious as he seemed, the guy had keen senses. There was nowhere to run. As he approached the swordsman, Sanji tried to brace himself for whatever was to come; yelling—no, screaming for putting himself and the whole crew in danger, some insults about how he somehow became more stupid than when he ate the fish eggs, or even a full-on fight because ‘it looks like that’s what you want, acting like this.’ He clenched his fists, because whatever came, he knew he didn’t have the voice to try some pathetic defense. He was screwed.

The two pirates stood there, staring at each other as the rain pelted them. Even as he mentally prepared himself for a fight, Sanji belatedly wondered how long Zoro wandered in the rain for him.

“I didn’t have to.”

Sanji blinked. He thought he must’ve misheard something against the downpour, until he saw Zoro’s jaw move again. “I didn’t have to search for you,” he repeated. “I saw you leave. But I didn’t alert the crew. I just followed.”

Something in Sanji’s chest deflated; whether it was relief or some sort of defeat, he wasn’t sure. Right. Yeah. He would have to have followed him. Otherwise, there was no way the mosshead would be able to find him without calling out for him. Haha. Knowing he was there the whole time should make him feel ashamed and raw, yet he couldn’t muster the energy. He didn’t really deserve to contemplate his vulnerability with this guy going out of the way in this weather to keep an eye on him. God, the marimo was going to catch a cold too, wasn’t he? He tried not to laugh at the mess he made.

Instead, trying so hard not to break eye contact, Sanji willed himself to mouth the words ‘I’m sorry.’

If he was affected by his attempt at an apology, Zoro gave nothing away; his eyes bore into him, looking over Sanji up and down. He expected some bitter remark, or for him to simply turn his back on the cook. Instead, Zoro slowly extended his hand towards Sanji, palm facing the sky. Sanji stared at the hand for a minute like he was analyzing some trap until he gingerly closed the gap and took it. In some part of his mind, he was still bracing for the fight. 

But with the way Zoro firmly threaded their fingers together, he knew it wasn’t going to come. He felt more than a bit foolish for thinking so.

With a gentle pull, the two pirates made their slow trek through the rain back home.

He was floating in the bath, waiting for Zoro, when he heard the sounds of fighting outside. 

Sanji tried not to panic; he knew the rest of the crew was still gone, off investigating the island, but he also knew Zoro could hold his own. Even from here, he could tell the battle was loud, fiery, and desperate, the ship practically shaking from the intensity. Sanji wanted nothing more than to get out and help, even just to find a way to escape and alert the others, yet his body didn’t seem to listen. He wheezed out to call his comrade’s name, to call out for anybody, but no real sound escaped.

Suddenly, it was silent.

He squirmed in the tub, his heart beating fast as he pressed his back against the wall farthest from the entryway. He stared at the door as the heavy creak of the ladder started to get louder. He couldn’t feel his worn legs and didn't have any strength to stand, practically paralyzed. He tried to keep low and silent, as if that could hide him, as if keeping still would keep him safe, as if it would magically make it so Zoro was the one behind that door.

But he knew it wasn’t him.

The door swung open with a crash.

His body jerked as men, silhouetted by light, started to swarm the room. He tried to lift his scaly legs to kick in some pathetic attempt to fight, but one of the men grabbed it. Sanji was trying to yell out with all his might as he gripped the tub, trying to summon forth some rage instead of fear, yet nothing came. The men pried him off, unperturbed by his attempts at fighting, and began to drag him away back through the door. Sanji’s jaw locked, squeezing his eyes shut because god this was it, Zoro was out there, what did they do to him, what would happen to him, he feels his body squeezing and twisting and writhing when—

With a violent gasp, Sanji woke up, drowning on air.

There, in the bathroom, a man silhouetted by light stood over him and tightly grasped his shoulders.

His heart tried to escape his chest, the nightmare still gripping his mind as he wheezed and thrashed his whole body. This time, his rage found him, baring his fangs and swiping his nails. He still couldn't quite feel his legs as he tried to kick them, doubtful they’d do anything after exerting them last night, yet he still tried. The splashing of water drowned out the man’s voice for a minute before it finally came into focus.

“Curly Brows! Cook!! Sanji, it’s just me!!!”

Finally, either from the volume of his voice or from draining his strength, Sanji started to calm, panting as he looked up and Zoro started to come into focus, covered in bath water and looking out of breath.

He tried to breathe—as best as someone like him could—looking around the bathhouse to confirm he wasn’t dreaming anymore. He could faintly hear Zoro trying to tell him soothing words, barely even registering his gentle demeanor as his mind raced. Shit, that felt too real, he needed to adjust himself to sit up and take a deep breath.

Except his legs still lacked their usual strength. 

He froze. Zoro froze too, yet he could tell he already knew what the cook dreaded.

Finally, Sanji looked past his torn nightgown at his feet.

Or, rather, where they used to be.

Finally, the green scales that decorated his legs had cocooned and fused together overnight, creating a slender mermaid tail. On the end and the sides, around where his thighs would’ve met his calves, were delicate fins, almost frilly in appearance. Sanji experimentally bent it, effortlessly cutting through the water. The transformation had completed its last step.

He felt something within him twist and mangle. 

Even though he could feel its power, he only focused on the tail’s weight; if he closed his eyes, Sanji could believe his legs were still there, wrapped in chains with an iron ball at the end. Even though he knew, he knew this was inevitable, he felt like his whole body was tightening around him. A spike of claustrophobia shot through his body, his tail bucking in response. He felt the swordsman’s arm brace against it, trying to keep him from hitting anything.

He looked up at Zoro, who wore a complicated expression; though he couldn’t place what it said, Sanji was sure he could pick out ‘pity’ from the mess. 

He wanted to swipe that look away, take out his other eye if it meant not looking at him like that. 

He wanted to say sorry that he scratched Zoro in his half-sleeping panic and got him soaked. He wanted to scream that he needed to cook so bad, that he'd walk on broken glass for the rest of his life if it meant he could be in the kitchen again. He wanted to punch Zoro’s chest and confide that he had a terrible nightmare of the future, that he’s so afraid right now of what he’s becoming, of what he became. He wanted to say so many things, to tell Zoro to be careful trying to protect someone like him, tell him that he doesn’t need to give up his life protecting some monster, tell him that dear god he was in this mess because he LOVES the bastard—!

But instead his face crumpled and he bowed his head towards his chest, clinging to Zoro with all his might.

He clenched his fingers around Zoro’s arm like a vice grip, feeling skin near-pucture under his fingertips. Some part of his mind told him to be careful, that these claws could rip the swordsman’s flesh more easily, that this time he’d actually add new scars to his already growing collection, but his body didn’t listen. His throat constricted, still trying to force out words, like he’ll break the spell through sheer force of will, but nothing came out still.

Zoro doesn’t pull away, cradling Sanji’s body tightly in his arms.

Sanji felt a hand on his head, softly carding through his long unruly locks, and it felt so gentle and welcoming and burning that he felt like Zoro’s fingertips would be branded onto his skin. And yet he doesn’t recoil; no, he pulled at him, asking a silent question that he knew he had no courage to ask, even before his voice left. He doesn’t know what he hoped to happen, whether he needed Zoro to truly be closer and forever be by his side, or whether he needed to start attacking like a vicious animal to drive him away. He was stranded between the two ideas as they played tug-of-war in his heart.

Before he could decide, Zoro released his grip, prompting Sanji to release his. 

He felt his claws itch to scratch against the bath tile, his jaw clenched tightly.

Yeah, get the fuck away.

Sanji closed his eyes, feeling his muscles make some unsteady attempt at releasing tension. He heard the sound of boots hitting the floor and cloth rustling. He was leaving.

His eyes shot open when he didn’t hear the door opening, but instead a splash.

Sure enough, Sanji whipped his head up to stare slack-jawed as Zoro dipped his toes in the bathwater, boots abandoned on the floor and kimono soon to follow. Only wearing his haramaki and pants, Zoro joined in.

He knew that Sanji was having a much worse time, but as Zoro let himself sink into the tub next to the faucet, he wondered how much more he could bear.

He rolled his shoulder, a cracking noise echoing through the room. On any other day, he would strip off the rest of his outfit without a care, but he wasn’t so thick-headed to not see how delicate the situation was. He kept some space between them, Sanji’s eyes wide and confused as they flitted around the room, his face turning a lovely scarlet. Zoro resisted the temptation to reach a hand out and teasingly pinch his face.

“Seems like you had another nightmare,” Zoro said. Sanji snapped out of his bewilderment long enough to glare at him with an expression that just screamed ‘no shit, Detective Marimo,’ even without having to try reading his emotions. That familiar bite was enough to provide some relief to Zoro’s heart. “You don’t have to say anything. If you want me to leave, I’ll leave. But I’m here and it’s cold, so I’m gonna put in some warmer water.”

With that, Zoro unceremoniously twisted the faucet handle, letting a roar of water displace the tepid bath. He tried to appear as nonchalant as he usually did, but it proved difficult this time. He wanted to just reach out and return to how they were mere minutes ago, but it didn’t work like that. The way Sanji looked at him as he took on these changes, he knew he needed to wait for him. He’d do the ‘chivalrous’ thing, as he’s sure Sanji would call it, and make himself close and available, but he’d wait for the cook to reach out to him.

He thought back to a nervous hand clasping his in the rain. He’d be patient, even if it killed him.

Sanji stared down at the floor for a minute, deep in thought as Zoro shifted his body to better position himself. He held back a stunned expression when the cook actually scooted beside him, his tail gracefully kicking him closer and curling around to settle across Zoro’s lap. The cook’s navy eyes are half-hidden behind his long blonde lashes, yet he doesn’t look so shy or demure. The best he could say was that he looked resolute.

You can stay.

His thought was clipped, though not curt, which was the standard when they communicated like this. Zoro tried his best not to smile; if he weren’t part fish right now, he would call Sanji a needy cat. The running water provided the only sound between them, minutes passing with neither of them daring to move. Zoro was half-convinced this was just how the day would pass when he could hear Sanji’s voice echo in his head again, soft as a whisper.

They had found us.

Zoro finally raised his arm to turn the faucet handle, sighing softly as he watched a few lingering droplets cast ripples over the bath surface. He didn’t have to ask for details to get the picture; he nodded in sympathy, feeling at a slight loss for words.

“It’s like I said,” Zoro declared, turning his head towards Sanji. “We’re not gonna let that happen to you.”

Sanji nodded as well, not meeting Zoro’s unwavering gaze. The pirate cook looked like his thoughts were hundreds of miles away, trapped in the mire of that dream again. Just the thought made the swordsman clench his hand against the bath tile.

He felt something shift against his hand. 

He couldn’t quite see what it was, blindly grasping around the water, but it felt like a thin, smooth stone against his knuckles. Zoro swept his free hand around the base of the tub to see more of the things dance around with the movement, reflecting a brilliant green color. He knew the tile on the bath felt oddly uncomfortable; there must have been dozens littering the bath floor! 

Confused, Zoro turned to Sanji again, leaning forward to try and get into his line of sight. “Hey, cook, what are these things?” Sanji was still looking off in the distance as Zoro tried to get his fingers around one of the objects. 

A minute passed before the cook raised his hand towards a scale on his forearm and pulled it off.“Hey, don’t be plucking those out, dumbass!” Zoro snapped, grabbing Sanji’s arm. “You could’ve just pointed it out!” It seemed effortless, as if the gesture was automatic and familiar, yet Zoro found himself flinching; that shit couldn’t have been painless. Yet Sanji’s face remained passive, not pulling away as he pivoted his wrist, holding the green scale up to Zoro. His eyes flickered between the scale and the cook, like an answer for his behavior was in the space between the two. 

Sanji seemed to be looking through it, through Zoro, and he hated that look.

Zoro pinched his fingers around the scale, Sanji releasing his grip for him to take it.

“Look. I don’t care if you hurt me.” Zoro said, taking Sanji’s hand and carefully pressing it against his shoulder. The damage was more intense than the night the cook stopped breathing, with a couple of the scratches bleeding, but true to his word he couldn’t care less. “I’ll be okay. I’ve bounced back from worse. And you probably have too. But don’t start inflicting it on yourself, understand?”

His words seemed to finally snap Sanji out of whatever he was thinking, his eyes widening and his body standing at attention. He opened his mouth, ready to make some counterarguement or refutal, but Zoro watched as the air left him. Instead, Sanji started to trace over the marks on his shoulder with a morose expression, his claws so gentle that the swordsman wasn’t sure he was even touching him. With his other arm, he started to scoop up water and pour it on Zoro’s shoulder in an attempt to wash away some of the blood. However, he couldn’t hold a lot in his hand, so after a minute or so, he abandoned his bedside manners to just start splashing the water up. 

This time, Zoro did laugh; even if getting water splashed wasn’t his preferred bath routine, the cook was trying to make a show that he still cared about his well-being. It was early morning, and the poor guy was probably still tired and disheveled, especially if he was spacing out and getting frustrated. Sanji looked up at him with a pout, as if to say ‘are you really going to laugh that I’m trying to help you, ungrateful mosshead?’

“Don’t worry about me, Curly,” Zoro explained, watching Sanji flash his fangs in response to the nickname. “I’m just gonna be relaxing here before breakfast. So don’t fuss on my account; close your eyes and rest. Gods know that I would’ve done the same by now.” And he certainly wouldn’t turn down an invitation to just sit and nap together in any other circumstance, but Zoro kept that to himself. After all, he needed to keep watch.

Hesitation was plain on Sanji’s face, still a bit shaken and probably a bit uneasy with the intimacy of all this. If he possessed his usual strength, the cook would probably be yelling and growling at the swordsman for even suggesting something so uncouth. Perhaps he’d even be abjectly disgusted.

But there wasn’t much fight behind his eyes as they started to flutter. Yeah, just a few minutes. Surrendering, Sanji closed his eyes and leaned his head against Zoro’s shoulder, careful to avoid pressing against his injuries. The merman’s tail was still curled around him protectively, cementing the swordsman’s fate to gradually prune in the tub for however long the cook was willing to rest. When he felt the blonde’s breath fall into a steady rhythm, Zoro could finally feel his own body start to relax properly.

Gradually, so as not to upset the water and wake him, Zoro lifted his hand up to better observe the mermaid scale Sanji had given. He turned it around in the light, tracing over the ridges with his thumb as green reflected small flecks of rainbows around the room. If he didn’t know better, he might’ve mistaken the thing for a seashell; sturdy with ridges smooth to the touch, as if worn down by the sea, and gleaming with a particular iridescence. It looked more magical and alluring than any souvenir that damned market peddled out.

He took one more quick glance down at Sanji’s sleeping face. He’d be lying if he said he wasn’t enchanted by the cook’s appearance, gently moving a wet strand of blonde hair. His mind and heart were in conflict, knowing that he was in so much pain, but Zoro doubted he could ever find a situation where he wouldn’t be captivated by Sanji. 

Staring at the glittering green that decorated the bottom of the bath, he recalled the old woman in the blue house, and the story of the mermaid. He also recalled a folktale from his own childhood, about a man who married a crane. The risk and sacrifice in the name of love. If it had been any other day, he’d dismiss it as sappy nonsense that only the cook could fall for, but Zoro knew he would have fallen prey to this blonde man if he was a beckoning siren. After all, he was a fool too. 

A fool who was going to get Sanji back. No matter the cost.

Zoro closed his eyes, making a silent vow as he held the scale up against his lips.

From what Chopper could discern, Sanji had officially completed his physical transformation. While the cook wasn’t going to wake up the next day as a full-fledged fish, the doctor couldn’t guarantee that further internal changes wouldn’t occur. For a second, Sanji had a sickening thought about his organs, but the little doctor quickly clarified he meant his mental faculties. From the way Zoro’s face twisted, that did little to ease his conscience, and Sanji was on the same boat. 

God this bath feels so stale, I bet the ocean just below would feel divine.

He hated how familiar it felt to be trapped like this. 

It didn’t take sharp intuition to see his crewmates were feeling desperate now. Chopper practically cried every time he came in for examinations, routinely arriving at the crack of dawn and right before bed for quick tests. The amount of time the others would stay with Sanji fluctuated more severely; for long periods, he’d be alone to anxiously swim around in small laps while they tried their best to find his cure, and other times he couldn’t get someone to leave, watching them carry on conversations by themselves about nothing and everything. And they had this look on their eyes before they left, like it would be the last time.

Just a quick dive out there wouldn’t hurt. 

The exception was Zoro, because of course it was. He made a routine of his own, going out to the island for as long as there was daylight, and sitting in the bathhouse through most of the night. He never entered the bath with Sanji again; instead he’d make some weak excuse that he just wanted to use the shower there to wash off the grime. Sanji would often look at him with his eyebrow raised, as if to say ‘ you never cared about that before,’ continuing their little banter.

He has to keep up banter with him, otherwise his heart would just ache. Even with visits everyday, he missed everyone. His eyes would hurt, staring at his new reflection for too long. He needed to just get used to the fact that this was his new reality.

Just pop open the window and—

Sanji found himself unconsciously pinching his arm, blood dripping from the puncture. Deep breaths, Sanji.

He closed his eyes, submerging his entire body into the bath for the night. Things were going to be okay. There’d be a solution, he was sure of it. He wasn’t doomed yet.

That night, Sanji dreamt he was a small fish on the chopping block.

Silhouetted by a halo of light, a towering Zoro stood over him wearing fisherman’s garb and one of his swords in hand. Sanji couldn’t move, his arms pinned to his side and head laying flat against the board; he knew he was about to be sliced, about to be harvested for eggs and cut up for meat. Yet, even as he heard his heart thundering in his ears, he felt no compulsion to panic.

As the swordsman aimed his blade, Sanji simply closed his eyes and took a deep breath.

Chapter Text

Zoro stifled a yawn, aggressively rubbing his face; with any luck, he would mould it into the visage of an attentive pirate. He wouldn’t usually care about appearing awake, but he actually needed to pay attention for this crew meeting to go well. Things were getting a bit strained as the trail kept slipping away, and he was becoming restless. So here he was, slumped over the dining table with the rest of the crew, engaged in a fierce battle with sleep so he could save his crewmate.

“So,” Nami started, herself looking a bit worn down, “today, I suggest we adjust our strategy. Now that Sanji is… fully changed, they’ve likely been more actively searching for him. They’ve been running this con a long time, so it isn’t out of the question that they can predict the timeline for him to be at his most vulnerable.”

“Locals have seen all our faces,” Franky affirmed, Robin gently leaning against him, “so they’re definitely monitoring our every move one way or another, and will be on guard no matter what we do. If we’re not careful, they’ll use the fact that we’re investigating to find an opening to take Sanji.”

Brook scratched his skull. “It seems they’re taking such a passive approach, though. Instead of just muscling their way through our ship, they’re lying in wait and making their money! Are they intimidated, perhaps?”

“If they were intimidated,” Usopp sighed, stretching his torso across the table, “they would have come out and surrendered instead of constantly evading us! Just brute force isn’t gonna cut it!”

The room fell silent. No one dared breathe the idea of failing. The captain forbade discussion of what to do if it came to that, if they couldn’t find one of those men in blue. Or, worse, what they’d do if they did find the men and a cure was still impossible. No, Sanji being permanently stuck as a merman was out of the question. Sometimes, when Zoro passed by the aquarium bar, his exhausted mind would play tricks and tell him Sanji was swimming in his peripheral, like some twisted vision of a terrible future. Other times, when looking out at the ocean, he was sure that a cresting wave was the cook diving through the seawater. It sent chills up his spine.

Zoro recalled the old woman in the house by the coast, snipping her scissors resolutely. 

“That’s not an option,” Luffy reiterated, his expression stern. “We’re not about to lose our cook now.”

An order no one had to be told. Everyone still nodded.

Zoro crossed his arms, stretching his neck a bit. When he wasn’t worrying over the cook’s condition, he was trying to concoct a proper strategy, even if he felt impatient with every step and misstep. The crew had always tried to lay low while investigating, but Franky was right; those mermaid eyes were everywhere, and they knew who they were at this point.

Maybe he could use that.

Zoro stood up, brow furrowed. “I have a plan.”

Everyone’s eyes were immediately on him. He couldn’t tell if it was the simple fact that he had an idea at all, or that he made the effort to get the crew’s attention instead of simply blurting his thoughts out, but everyone was clearly intrigued about whatever Zoro was going to say. He took a deep breath.

“We’ll bait them,” Zoro declared, firing himself up for his pitch. “We’ll arrange a meeting to hand one of our own over and take them from the inside out.”

An uncomfortable silence fell over the crew. Not an outright no yet, Zoro noted, which was a promising start.

“But none of them have approached us,” Nami pointed out. “If they wanted to trap us or proposition us, they would’ve at least pulled me or Robin to the side by now. Not to mention they must have put together who we’re associated with; they know they can’t just trick us.”

“The guy mentioned they targeted specific kinds of people for the magic to take place. You probably don’t meet their requirements, and they likely had spies report on the fact we’ve all been investigating, but the only one they know for sure is associated with him is me. Besides, if the cook found out we used either of you as bait, he’d rip me to shreds. No…” Zoro locked his eye with Luffy. “I’ll propose the exchange: me for the cook.”

He could hear the gasps and arguments of the crew simmer as he held his gaze with Luffy, who looked back with a stern expression. “They’ve already seen me when they scammed Curly,” he continued, “but I could offer them a few things. The strength of their guard is shit, which is likely why they’re constantly in hiding instead of being more active or aggressive. I could offer my skill set to get in, nab some fish for Chopper to study, and rip them apart from the inside.”

Well, that wasn’t the whole truth. Offering muscle wouldn’t actually work in the long run, he knew that, but if nothing came from what he really intended to do, it’d at least provide an effective last resort. Even if he could stall and figure a route to their base, that’d be something . The basics of the plan were essentially the same.

Zoro closed his eye. No, offering some paltry muscle was a weak deal. It’d have to be an equal trade, a body for a body. And he was the closest to filling the requirements that the old woman talked about.

“It’s the only plan that has a chance of luring out the gang,” Zoro stated, his voice raised just enough to quiet the crew. “They clearly care a lot about profits and control around here, so an exchange like this could be our only way in. I say we try it.”

Everyone’s faces told him they still weren’t convinced, a few murmurs still carrying over.

“Okay.”

Heads whipped around to the end of the table, where Luffy sat looking particularly neutral. He was still looking at Zoro with an intense focus before he broke out into a full-faced grin. “Okay, Zoro. Let’s give it a shot!”

“Luffy,” Nami started, but the captain just kept going.

“I trust Zoro on this!” Luffy snickered, leaning so far back in his chair that the front legs didn’t touch the ground. “And if we don’t back him up on this, he’ll go and do it anyway. And who’s gonna help him find the ship again when he needs to get back?!”

The curly cook’s face briefly flashed in Zoro’s mind. He found himself smiling.

Nami sighed, putting her hands up in surrender. “Alright then, we’ll prepare briefly and try to execute in an hour.”

“Chopper should keep an eye on our merman,” Robin chuckled, standing up straight. “He’ll keep a close eye on his health and can fight off anyone that comes on the ship, if need be.”

“Leave it to me!” Chopper chirped, raising his hoof up in approval,

Zoro tried not to look too relieved, opting for a curt nod as everyone else stood and started to file out. Though there was distant discussion of the impending plans, his thoughts drifted back to Sanji. These days, the mer-cook was either incredibly irritable or near non-responsive whenever any of the crew kept him company. For anybody, the latter would be concerning but the former felt surprisingly worse to see; the hostility had been far outside the realm of comfort that their familiar squabbles provided. There was a particular edge to his snarl that was almost worse than the way they used to fight all those years ago.

As he looked back at the stern of the boat, where the bathhouse and library resided, he considered going to visit the cook before he left. But he knew they were running out of time. The guy was suffering badly enough to act like this, and he needed to hurry and uphold his promise.

Walking down the gangplank, Zoro wondered for the hundredth time how the caviar would taste.

Sanji woke up from a dream feeling like his brain was on the verge of imploding.

His entire body itched in a way he couldn’t scratch. His breath felt shallow, and he was always aware of it, whether he was underwater or above. Everything felt uncomfortable, and no matter how much he fidgeted, it felt wrong, and it’d felt wrong ever since his tail finally grew in. He no longer bothered with a nightgown, joking to himself that the time for modesty had passed, but the truth was that the thing was in tatters from idle scratching and thrashing from grating against his tail. He honestly wanted to keep it on, just so he didn’t have to look at his body for long periods of time, but he wasn’t willing to just keep destroying his clothes.

It’s so stifling in this tiny room, gotta get out of here now.

And then there was this part of his brain. 

It felt not like his own, like it was some intrusive foreign entity making a home in his mind, but it took on his voice and got louder every day. An educated guess pointed that this was another part of the curse, something akin to “instincts” that were responsible for all of these irritating feelings. He put his hand to his forearm, an urge to just start plucking scales like feathers wriggling under his skin.

He thought back to Zoro’s pained face in the tub telling him not to hurt himself, holding his scale between them.

He bit his lip, willing his hand to move away as Chopper’s hooves clopped into the room, calling out a cheery greeting. Strange, he was sure Zoro or Brook were assigned to keep him company next, though his memory was a bit hazy these days.

“If you’re wondering where Zoro is,” Chopper said, not even looking up from his notes, “He and the crew are out chasing a very important lead. They’ll be out for a long time, but don’t worry! I’m here to take care of anything you might need!”

Need to get out of here. 

Sanji simply nodded, likely exuding some concerning aura as the reindeer looked on sympathetically. “I know it’s been hard for you, with all the changes to your body and being stuck here.”

You have no idea.

Sanji wanted to flick his own forehead. Fuckin' idiot, of course he knew how Sanji felt. Half of the crew has gone through some sort of body-horror nonsense, and Chopper especially knew the stress of your body changing into something unfamiliar. Even the pirate cook himself was no stranger to—

He stopped his own thoughts, slamming a door on them and swiftly turning the lock; he didn’t need to dwell on stuff like that. He tried to empty his mind and simply listen.

“But worry not!” Chopper continued. “This form and this pain is only temporary, I assure you! I’ll be here to monitor and treat any discomfort you have. Plus it seems like this plan the crew has will be a sure-fire; Zoro himself was really confident in how it would play out!”

The cook tried not to dwell on that, either. If Zoro was so sure, that could only mean disaster one way or another. And he was stuck here, swimming in circles and picking off scales in this forsaken tub on this forsaken ship while everyone was out there. He thought back to that night when he ran through the rain, adrenaline and sadness coursing through him.

It’s okay to grieve. 

He wasn’t grieving. It was going to work out. Even though things looked grim, it’d be fine. He had faith in them.

If only there was a way to help.

He doesn’t need to project that he’s restless for the crew to know. Everyone who’s had the displeasure of keeping him company lately could tell, all giving him those sympathetic looks. He’s tried not to snap at them, but he even caught himself acting curt towards Nami on occasion. When that happened, he couldn’t express enough shame, yet she took it with grace. 

Find a way out.

The sunbeams that streamed in through the window warmed his back, drying the top of his hair. Robin had offered to braid it again the other day, but he aggressively refused. The thought of being touched right now was out of the question; his body felt like it was on high alert all the time, and he couldn’t risk lashing out at any of them. He wanted to tell them to just leave him alone.

Find a way out.

Even in his dreams, it was always something on the verge of a nightmare, even if panic didn’t properly set in until he woke. He felt like it was as Chopper said, that his mental faculties were shifting, which was much kinder than what he would say, which is that he was losing his mind. He should stop waiting for it to stop and just tell him. He needed to tell him.

Get out of here now.

His entire body suddenly tensed on its own. 

What?

Sanji watched as his hands weakly gestured to get Chopper’s attention. As the reindeer looked up from his clipboard, a pleasant smile bloomed on the cook’s face, betraying the sudden anxiety that spiked through his body. Fingers and palms pressed together flat, Sanji gestured his hands opening and closing like a book. That’s not what he wanted to say, wait—

“A book?” Chopper confirmed, his head tilting in curiosity. “Oh! You want to read something? I don’t know if I could give you the books, just to preserve their condition, but perhaps I could read aloud to you!” Sanji’s face crinkled in a warm smile that felt wrong, nodding. His heart squeezed as he saw the doctor’s face positively light up in excitement, clapping his hooves together.

“Oh, I’ll find you a book I’m sure you’ll love!! I saw something the other day about types of wild fauna that survivalists used for food and medicine through history, and a book about a romantic legend I picked up a few islands ago, and a book about rare wild cuisines! I’ll see if they’re still down in the libary and grab them!!” With a flourish, Chopper ran out the bathhouse door, his footsteps echoing and fading down below. Meanwhile, Sanji used all his strength to clench the edge of the bathtub.

Now.

Quietly heaving himself onto the windowsill, Sanji stared down past the glass to the beautiful waves cresting and crashing against the ship’s stern. Lately, when he got lonely or couldn’t sleep, he would sit there and take in the view of the moon reflected against the sea. Chopper wouldn’t be happy to find him sitting there; he always tried to wipe away any evidence that he sat there, but he’s been spending longer and longer looking out the window like this. Last time, he felt his chest start to press down on him, his body having practically dried out and he had to just fall back into the tub. He knew he needed to get back in the bath before the reindeer finished downstairs.

Instead, as the water dripped off his tail and back into the tub, Sanji unlocked the window.

He needed to stop and get back in the bath.

Instead, he scooted closer to the edge, his torso meeting the open air as he watched the surging ocean below. From what he could sense, there weren’t rocks or other obstacles that would harm him if he were to just dive straight down. He was sturdy; it would sting a bit, but he wouldn’t die. He found himself scooting a little closer.

Stop it.

Now.

Before he could register what he had done, Sanji was careening towards the dark water below. He only had a second to right his body into a diving position before he was plunged into the seawater. Shit! What did he just do? It tried to recall the feeling of pushing himself out the window, but he couldn’t. Gaps in his memory, dissociative experiences… He needed to get back and tell Chopper to lock him to the tub at this rate.

Yet under the panic, he felt… lucid. The buzzing in his mind was subdued, and he could actually hear his own thoughts. His muscles started to actually relax; the blissful feeling the ocean granted his skin did something to his brain, he thought absently. There was a rush and, after some experimental kicks, he couldn’t help but start twisting his body as he swam, doing flips and corkscrews and the like. His body, for the first time in awhile, felt so light. Small schools of fish swam by, weaving with the cook through the jungle of fishing nets. A fleeting urge told him to catch one in his teeth and eat it for lunch, but luckily he maintained enough control to not consider it too long. 

Some part of him knew he needed to get back and beg for the crew’s forgiveness, but the sublime feeling of the open ocean dashed any hope for logic and reason. The itching in his brain and body ceased, and he experienced a sort of clarity, even if it felt a bit wrong. His skin burned from entry, but it was nothing compared to how he was rewarded. It felt like a heavenly dream after weeks of night terrors, and he was hesitant to go back.

Swim deeper.

He listened, kicking himself towards where the water got darker and the seaweed got thicker. Sanji felt his memories float up like the bubbles, breaking across the surface of his mind while he dutifully swam deeper, deeper, deeper…

He thought of Zoro’s body, protectively pressed against his in the tub. He thought of him plunging Sanji in the water the night when his lungs started to betray him. He thought of him asking why he would do this to himself, over and over in different ways and different desperations.

He thought of a man crashing in at inexplicable moments, saying he just got lost as though he didn’t look like he just escaped hell. A man at his back, his hair a vibrant shock of green, bleeding and grinning wildly in the thrill of battle. He thought of him grinning in that same manner himself. He thought of that burning feeling of a man who could truly rival him.

He felt something slipping away.

Sanji snapped out of his drifting thoughts when he saw something glimmering on the ocean floor, his eyes wincing at the light. Curious, he swam closer and put his hands on something smooth and solid. Embedded in the sand, beneath the thick forest of kelp, Sanji found a collection of carefully placed shells, arranged to create a path.

They were pearl-like in sheen but were colored various blues, most notably a familiar navy.

Help them.

In the haze of his reminiscing, he followed the path.

Zoro stomped his way through town, a literal man on a mission; Nami suggested he make some attempt to look casual, but he threw that out the window. He wasn’t interested in wasting more time with beating around the bush today. After a few dead-ends and accidental turnarounds, the swordsman approached a mermaid performance in the square. It was one of the more popular attractions, if he recalled correctly, and different Straw Hats were covertly posted in the crowd and around the area. Usually, the ticket takers would simply shoo the pirates off when he spied them, but Zoro immediately put his hands up to stop him.

“I’m looking for some Mermaid Caviar.”

The crew already tried asking directly for samples from food vendors, along with any person who would lend an ear. They all feigned ignorance or outright told them no, being evasive as ever. By all accounts, this should have failed like every other attempt. But the way Zoro said it had the ticket taker stand up straighter. He felt a flurry of eyes on him.

“Just you?” The ticket taker asked, his eyes scanning Zoro up and down.

He tried not to let his breath stutter.

“Just me.”

The man sighed through his nose, only nodding once before just barely bringing his hand up above his waist, beckoning him to follow. Zoro clenched his fists, trailing behind through a backway.

They passed behind crumbled brick walls, tall, unkempt hedges, propped up boards of plywood with illegible scrawlings, all hidden behind the silk curtains and decorations of the mermaid shows. Once or twice, they pass by a mermaid sitting in a small pool, looking miserable before a performance. Zoro tries to not let the pity show too plainly on his face. If this is gonna work, he needed to keep a cool head, if that was even possible. Sanji was a priority, but they’d free all these people yet.

Right when he thought they went down some wrong alley or were running right into a dead-end trap, the ticket taker stopped and bowed, gesturing that Zoro should continue without him. Keeping his eye sharp, the swordsman ducked down through the tiny space between two hedges, sweeping brush off him as he walked into a small, hidden clearing.

There, shaded by tall, rotting walls of ivy-choked lattices and a canopy of dying wisteria trees, that accursed bespectacled man stood. Perfectly poised just like when Zoro saw him in the market, not a hair out of place. The only difference was that his hip now brandished a silver rapier, glimmering in the light that peaked through the trees. Beside him flanked a few of those henchmen in cerulean, another similarity to their first encounter.

“Ahahaha, looks like I was right,” the sleazy vendor cheered, adjusting his glasses with a chuckle. “Your friend was quite a lovesick fool. I do have a keen eye for people who are most susceptible to the herring’s magic; yearning, bleeding hearts of romantics! But, as far as I am aware, I don’t have any further quarrel with you, sir pirate.”

“I think you fucking do,” Zoro growled, his arms firmly crossed. “I’m looking for that stupid caviar.”

“So I heard,” the head salesman said, the smile never leaving his face. “But I have other things to attend to, so let’s skip the farce, shall we? This is more than just you succumbing to some silly curiosity; you’re here to negotiate an exchange to save your precious friend. Is that right?”

He desperately wanted to put a sword or three through that insufferably passive, knowing smile of his. “A little of both,” Zoro relented. 

“Well, do know that we’re keeping an eye on your various companions around the area,” the vendor offered, eyes glancing off somewhere past the hedges. “After all, negotiations are delicate things. Wouldn’t want to be disturbed.”

Fucking figures. Well, as much of a risk as it’d be, Zoro honestly preferred his crewmates weren’t too close to the area, considering what he was about to offer.

“Then let’s cut to the chase, like you said,” Zoro sighed, adjusting his stance slightly. He jerked a thumb against his own chest, his heart resolute. “If you hand over the cure, I’ll offer myself up. And you’ll never hear from us again.”

The ivy quivered against the breeze.

Ever so slightly, the salesman tilted his head to the side. “Offer… yourself? What, as a bodyguard?” He gestured to the two men at his side, who didn’t bother to react. “Quite brave of you coming in and announcing you want to replace them! Though your reputation certainly precedes you, that’s hardly a fair trade. I need performers to keep up the show, after all.”

“I wasn’t lying when I said I wanted caviar,” Zoro continued, ignoring the vendor’s inquiries. “If given the cure, I’ll willingly undergo the transformation and stay here in his stead.”

Zoro thought he heard rustling from somewhere in the distance. The vendor’s eyes widened, his smile faltering for the first time as their small corner of the island grew deathly quiet.

Then he burst into laughter, throwing his head back in an ugly and unrefined guffaw that surely echoed across the entire island.

“You?? As one of my performers???” He wheezed, slapping the arm of one of his henchmen with glee. Zoro bit back a flurry of insults and curses as the salesman kept laughing. After his chortles petered out, he straightened himself back to his usual immaculate visage. “Oh, you’re a more noble brute than I took you for. But what good would that deal do for me? After all, the transformation takes time, and we know there’s a finished merman just waiting for us.”

“Because if you take the deal,” Zoro retorted, tapping his finger against the hilt of his sword, “you’ll be able to keep your hide. I can guarantee you that we’ll weed out your little infestation on this island, and we’re not a particularly merciful crew at the moment. Take my deal and there will be minimal casualties.”

“Bold claims for someone so clearly desperate!” the fake vendor laughed, quick to see through Zoro’s bluff. “You could’ve left the island by now, yet you linger to turn your friend back. He’s clearly of significance to your lot, which means it’s valuable to keep the course!”

“You’re not so composed yourself,” Zoro sneered. “We’ve been on your trail for weeks, yet all you’ve done is evade like a coward and hide away in your little fortress. If you were so sure about your plans, you would’ve at least come out and face us without us having to contact you.”

The man chuckled, raising his eyebrow. “I suppose our method is a bit slow. Best not to take too many risks in this business. I’m sure a pirate like you can understand; your own crew has been taking its own methodical approach, after all, and we’ve thrived. And it’s only now that you—”

He stopped, blinking a couple of times as he raised his hand to his lips in thought. His eyes raked Zoro up and down, the rattle of leaves against the breeze nearly sending a chill down his spine.

The salesman’s eyes glittered. 

“Oh. Oh yes, I see. You’re as lovesick as that man.”

Zoro clenched his fist, his expression as neutral as always. That only made the man smile more, his canines showing as he approached Zoro. 

He circled the swordsman like a predator stalking prey, Zoro’s hands never leaving the hilt of his weapons. “A more rugged performer WOULD be a nice change, now that I think about it; the appearance of a scarred predator-type would do numbers for tourism. I was counting on your friend's more graceful, gentlemanly appearance, but yours could also be incredibly popular. Perhaps a rugged savior of a mermaid princess, or even a heel in some sort of story-based exhibit. I could see the signs for the display already…”

Even if the way he talked about it made Zoro want to vomit, the bastard was seriously considering it. He tried to keep himself calm.

The vendor finally stopped in front of him again, his expression near-salacious in glee. His fingers touched his lips in thought again, his hand slowly moving to extend towards the swordsman.

“I think we can make an arrangement with this.”

Before Zoro could move to grab it, a trilling sound broke the silence.

One of the henchmen stepped to the head vendor’s side, pulling a cerulean-colored transponder snail from his pocket. The vendor’s smiling face temporarily melted away, his brow pulled into a focused expression as he listened. The snail relayed no voice, only a series of quiet tones; some code from one of his subordinates, surely. 

But as he listened, a disgusting grin stretched across the caviar vendor’s face, so ominous that Zoro felt his hair stand on end. He pocketed the snail, hands clasped together in some pleased gesture.

“Well,” he started, his face practically stretched out. “It appears things have changed. No deal.” Zoro’s eye widened, his hand tightly clenching his sword hilt while the vendor turned to leave. “But thanks anyway!” 

“Hey! Fucker, we aren’t done here!” Zoro roared.

“Sorry, but it appears we are,” the insidious man chirped, his back towards Zoro. “But considering the circumstances, I’ll let your lot all leave this island in peace if you’re at sea by sundown. Otherwise, we won’t be treating you as kindly as we have. Good tidings, Roronoa Zoro.”

Zoro furiously unsheathed Wado and Sandai Kitetsu just as a thick plume of smoke erupted from underneath the vendor’s shoe. He cut through the air as best he could, aiming to at least nick the son of a bitch, but he hit the rotting lattice instead. The man and his hired muscle were gone, a small tamped patch of grass left in his wake. He needed to go after him, he needed to find their base and slaughter them, his feet ready to break into a sprint.

He felt several hands pulling him back before he could take many steps.

“Zoro, no!!” Nami’s voice distantly pleaded, cutting through the fog. He could vaguely see everyone start to emerge from his peripheral. “We need to think before we run after them! He had men posted everywhere, this area is definitely closely monitored!” 

“Bastard’s getting away,” Zoro growled, pulling against Robin’s grasp. He couldn’t let him escape, he couldn’t let go of his blade, he was gonna get those stupid fish eggs or kill the guy trying, he was so close .

“If they’re absconding,” Robin said, her voice even on the surface but containing a certain edge that Zoro always dreaded, “there’s likely a reason.” 

“Guys,” Franky called, pulling out a transponder of his own. “Chopper is on the line sounding frantic, but he’s not coherent! Something about the ship!”

“If they’re walking away from the deal like that,” Usopp nervously supplied, like he was hesitant to say the words, “then perhaps they got what they needed.”

What he needed…

Zoro felt his blood turn to ice.

With a sweep of his arms, Zoro shook Robin’s hands off him and sheathed his sword, roughly pushing everyone aside to start running back to the ship. It was a stupid move; he could bullshit some answer if someone asked him where the ship was, but it would probably be wrong. He was running on pure adrenaline and he probably shoved some citizens a little too roughly, but he didn’t care. By some miracle, he managed to make his way to the docks, the wood creaking underneath his stomping feet. At some point he acknowledged that Chopper was frantically running towards him, yelling something about the bathhouse, but he ran past with little heed. 

He had to be wrong, the stupid curly cook was just going to be sitting there in the tub like usual and make some smug face at him, thinking ‘hey stupid marimo why do you look so worried’ and things would be fine. 

He was going to be there.

He had to.

Skipping some of the rungs, Zoro clambered up the ladder through the bathhouse trap door. He paused just before the door, his breath heavy as his eye bore into it, like with enough effort the swordsman could just stare through it. With a final gulp of air, he turned the handle.

The bathtub was empty. Scratches and puddles of bathwater marked the windowsill and tile wall. The window was open, the panes softly creaking on its hinges. For a moment, Zoro imagined men in blue bursting in and taking the cook while they were gone; ever since Sanji described that dream, Zoro couldn’t help but imagine it many different times, but he took a second look.

The window wasn’t broken. It had been opened from the inside. And the scratches weren’t along where he’d theoretically be dragged.

The cook opened the window himself.

And he…

Every thought and emotion Zoro had peeled away to reveal a burning rage within him.

“You stupid fuckin' cook!!” He growled, the bath tile cracking under his fist. “After all that! After all that talk of not giving up and trusting us and you just—!”

He felt small hooves on his arms, trying to hold him back, or at least soothe him. Something rational in his brain tried to douse the flames igniting his blood, but he still felt smoke searing him from the inside out. He wasn’t sure if his body could handle feeling so distraught, so he defaulted to trembling anger. He breathed hard through his nose.

“I just left him for a minute,” Chopper hiccuped, rubbing his eyes, “to g-get a book, and he was gone! I didn’t hear anyone who got past me on the ship and I tried to look out for where they could’ve taken him, but I couldn’t go in the ocean and I j-just…!” He furiously wiped at his tears, his sniffling echoing in the room as everyone else caught up and filed in. Their voices faded behind a curtain of white noise, Zoro trying to unclench his jaw as he thought.

Curly tricked Chopper so he could escape. Why? Probably some bullshit side effect of the curse. Of course it had to take hold of the stupidest, most self-sacrificing piece of shit on this ship. Dammit! And how were they going to find him now?? Their one chance was blown by the love cook going and doing whatever he wanted! Those bastards probably swept him up in a big old fishing net by now and are dressing him up for their next shows and he was gonna find them and cut all their hearts out for doing this—

“Perhaps we’re looking at it from the wrong angle,” Usopp pointed out, his voice rising a bit above the blood rushing to Zoro’s ears. “They are able to hide away somewhere with little visibility, yet they still claim victims. There has to be a way to achieve both.”

“If they simply rely on their network of people and mermaids in town for info,” Robin conferred, tucking a stray hair behind her ear, “maybe they don’t need a place to mobilize that much. Maybe they just need a place where their victims could come to them.”

He already knew what had to be done.

While the crew continued to discuss the situation, Zoro untied the sash around his waist, shedding his kimono off and abandoning it on the bathtub floor. He ignored the yelps of everyone finally realizing what the swordsman was doing as he tied his swords onto his back and climbed into the tub, boots on and all.

“Zoro!!” Brook shouted, his bones rattling. “What are you doing?! 

“Get out of there and think this through!!” Nami gasped.

He thought for sure he would find himself being held back again, but either he was too quick or they were too stunned. He only gave his captain a spare nod before climbing onto the window and making a smooth dive into the ocean below. He could hear the clamoring voices of his crewmates fade before he was surrounded by cold seawater.

When he found him, he was going to skin Sanji alive for making his heart ache like this.

Skies above, he needed to turn and hightail it out of here. 

After absently following the path of seashells through an underwater tunnel, small creatures even scuttling out of the entrance to give him space, Sanji knew he was smack dab in the middle of the trap; he was surprised he hadn’t already tripped a wire to drop a net on him. Still, even if he knew that the smartest course of action would be to call for backup, he felt compelled to see this place out to the end, an invisible force pulling him along.

Looking up, Sanji noticed the water filling the cavern starting to level out; there was air and light just above. Carefully, hair pooling around his face, he peeked his head just barely over the surface.

The grotto was huge, reaching a few stories high and tunneling too far back for Sanji to see properly, scaffolding making passageways throughout the entire cave. Through ran a network of streams that Sanji found himself in, marked occasionally with small plank bridges. Light was provided through a combination of bioluminescent sea creatures kept in small tanks along the walls and various torches and lamps around table areas. 

Keeping his head low, he floated a bit further down, deeper into the beast. Sanji didn’t want to get ahead of himself, but this sure looked a lot like the hideout they were searching for. However, it only took a couple of turns to confirm his suspicions.

There, just beyond a wall where the darkness shifted with the tides, dozens of aquarium tanks were embedded in the stone, sporting various labels and charts attached on clipboards. In each were a few dozen pearl-colored fish, their scales reflecting rainbow light across the entire cave. Littered on nearby tables were the same ultramarine tins that the caviar was packaged in, in various states of use. And just further down, his eyes still adjusting to the darkness, Sanji could see the golden glimmer of a mermaid tail, his eyes trailing up to see the vague visage of a woman behind a larger glass tank. Beside her were more tanks, many empty but some occupied.

Holy shit. Jackpot.

He found it. This had it. He could nab those eggs and set everyone free. Sanji took a deep breath and closed his eyes, sinking down into the river and concentrating his thoughts.

Everyone, it’s here, it’s here, he tried to call. The hideout is here. The entrance is—

Stop.

His brain itched again, his muscles pulling at his limbs unnaturally. 

Don’t call out.

His ears rang, brain suddenly thrumming in pain. Fuck, not now, he was going to get caught! His body bucked and writhed, his tail fin splashing across the surface. He could barely concentrate, his mind buzzing so loudly that he couldn’t hear anything in the muffled expanse of the water. Shit, shit, shit!!

Sure enough, Sanji was suddenly yanked out of the water by his hair and tail, face twisted in pain as he landed on the cool cavern floor with a thud. Surrounding him were an entourage of the men in cerulean, the caviar vendor looking straight down at the changed cook with the grin he remembered all those days ago.

“Ahh, I’m so glad you finally found your way,” the seller cooed, adjusting his glasses before he outstretched his hands in welcome. “Oh, you look more captivating than I imagined! A bit of makeup and some outfits and you’ll be a headliner in no time.”

Sanji could feel himself shudder, trying to force his body to listen and leave while he still could, but he was frozen in place. If he wanted to say anything to the man, he couldn’t muster the focus with his mind throbbing like this. All he could do was weakly glare him down, his own breath loud in his ears.

“The look on your face is fierce, but I’m sure it’ll be tamped down in no time. You feel it, don’t you?” The salesman’s gaze shifted to something bordering on pity. “That voice begging you to abandon safety to swim into danger, or escape far away from everything you know to swim out into freedom, to simply…”

Give up.

Shut up.

“Well, you understand,” the vendor continued, his palms skyward as he explained. “The last step of the curse is to give up your broken heart. It’s a sort of protection; an approximate cure for a lovesick fool. But worry not! Here, we can keep you from losing your faculties for too long, and provide you with everything you need. You will no longer need to worry about the pain of an unrequited love.”

Swim away from the pain.

Shut the fuck up.

“After all, you’re also here to help your comrades, correct?”

He felt his hand twitch, closing it so tightly that Sanji was sure he was pricking his palms. The salesman didn’t seek an answer. “While you sat alone, waiting to be saved, all your crewmates were out searching for your salvation, putting their lives at risk for you. In fact, they were ready to sacrifice one of their strongest just for your cure.”

Sanji couldn’t mask his breath audibly hitching this time, a choked sound echoing through the grotto. The vendor’s smile widened; while no physical tripwire or net waited for him, the cook still fell straight into a trap.

“For all your struggling, you seem reasonable, sir.” The man with glasses took a small step closer, bowing down slightly towards Sanji. “You don’t want their sacrifices to be in vain, nor for them to be put in any more danger than they already face. So please, I implore you to not keep fighting what your heart wants on its path to healing.”

Don’t turn back.

Under the shallow guise of hospitality and praise, there was a clear threat in his offer; turn yourself in now and we won’t get violent. You’ll be trapped and your family goes free. Otherwise, we’ll take you by force and take those you love. The bastard even had the audacity to extend his hand, like he was so generous and magnanimous. To take it was to be on a different level than just a lovesick fool; he made promises to his crew, after all. He made a promise to Zoro. They had weathered far worse threats, and he’s sure they would defeat worse in the future. These bastards were nothing compared to them.

Yet here, Sanji’s strength failed. There was always that seed of doubt since the beginning, and somewhere between the incessant noise of his thoughts and finding this place, it had grown to a tangled web of panic and indecision. His brain couldn’t stay quiet and he felt all of his thoughts scramble. He felt his sanity start to slip and just wanted it to be quiet .

Sanji, a prisoner to his body, watched as his trembling claws slowly reached for that accursed hand.

Before he could grasp it, the mooks in blue all shifted to alert. The vendor didn’t retract his hand, but his smile did twitch in—was that annoyance he detected? Behind him, Sanji heard the telltale sounds of someone hauling themselves out of the seawater onto the cave floor.

He didn’t have to turn to know who it was.

“Cook!!!”

Sanji felt his body buzz with something, his claws carving holes against the stone. He didn’t want to turn and face him. He couldn’t move, he needed the stupid swordsman to go away, get out, Zoro Zoro Zoro get away now—

DON’T TURN BACK.

Against the itching voice, like something grating against his scales, Sanji turned just enough for his eyes to peak over his shoulder. He could barely make Zoro out in the faint blue light of the grotto water, but he could see he was disheveled; face red, hair dripping with water, and staring at Sanji with an expression he could only describe as ‘barely-restrained fury.’ Amidst the cacophony in his head, a tiny thought made its way to the surface: how did he even find him so fast?

“You fuckin’ bastard, I just followed you…” Zoro grunted, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “You don’t exactly camouflage in the ocean. Dammit, making everyone worry…! Where do you get off?! C’mon, get your ass behind me; we’re going home.” He could see the swordsman scrub his face, reaching to his back for one of his swords.

In the quieter vestiges of his mind, he knew Zoro had every right to be pissed at him. Hell, he wasn’t even angry himself, there was a feeling of immense relief that his pleas were heard and he was found! They could get the cure and get the hell out!! C’mon, just move, you piece of shit!!!

But his body betrayed him yet again; he didn’t budge an inch, and a growl emitted deep from his chest.

Zoro blinked, caught a bit off guard, but quickly shrugged it off. “Whatever deal these jackasses made with you, we’re not taking it. And they’re gonna let us leave, unless they’re volunteering for me to trim their numbers.” He punctuated it with a flash of his blade and a wicked smile that’d make Sanji’s heart soar under any other circumstances.

You fuckin’ hypocrite, if what they just said is to be believed, then you—

With only a couple of long strides, the green swordsman bridged the physical gap between them. The gang men unsheathed their various weapons in response, daring him to take another step. Zoro clearly wasn’t threatened; he knelt down on one knee to Sanji’s level and, with his free hand, clasped the cook’s far shoulder protectively. He felt himself hiss and writhe against his burning touch.

“Now, Mr. Roronoa,” the man with glasses chirped, finally unsheathing his own rapier. “I know you were a touch miffed that our own negotiations went south, but to get in between someone else’s affairs is most uncouth! This man belongs to us now, and we’d like it if you would leave him be.”

“Don’t worry,” another member interjected, “we’ll treat him gently! Feed him, groom him, give him lots of love and attention. It’s been a long time since there’s been a merman on the island, so the locals will be more than thrilled.”

“Shut the fuck up.” Zoro growled, “I won’t have you talking like he’s some pet!” He tried his best to hold Sanji’s body close to his own, readjusting his grip on his sword. There was a hint of hesitation, like the swordsman considered letting the cook go to grab his other weapons, but he didn’t budge even as Sanji resisted against his grasp. He could barely think when it felt like cigarettes were being put out all over his skin. 

let go let go get off get off let go

If Zoro could hear his thoughts, he ignored them, his grip unrelenting as he deliberated his choices.

With a click, he sheathed his sword. Sanji felt himself sigh, even if he felt no real relief. 

Then, with one swift motion, Zoro hoisted the cook up in both arms and made a break for the underwater entrance.

Sanji took a moment to adjust, surprised Zoro wasn’t slipping on the damp rock or hitting dead ends. The loud stomping of the gang echoed across the grotto walls as they followed them, yet he was faster, the noises gradually getting further and further away. When they hit the cold ocean water, the swordsman slowed as he waded through carefully, and the sounds of the men in blue started to catch up. With a deep gulp of breath, Zoro dived into the water with the mer-pirate in tow.

A sort of calming euphoria briefly washed over Sanji as he was immersed in the salt water, his heart singing for him to start kicking and swimming, but the joy was brief. He floundered and flailed violently, his mouth agape as he tried to tell Zoro to release him. Of course, he couldn’t understand what was happening and kept swimming with all his strength, surprisingly steadfast considering he only had one arm free.

get off let go your touch hurts it hurts it hurts it all hurts let go

It didn’t take too long for them to reach the open sea and Zoro started to paddle upwards. The men in cerulean were far behind, probably still wading through the grotto. With the surface in sight and the crew nearby, their victory would be secured.

His freedom was right there, yet Sanji wanted to scream. It was overwhelming, it felt worse than every stifling day on the ship, everything itched and hissed and hurt.

If only the swordsman would just

LET

GO.

With a furious swipe, Sanji finally wrenched his arms free. 

He vaguely felt his nails scratch Zoro’s skin for the hundredth time in the process, his nerves too numb to properly register touch. The swordsman’s body jerked away, his grip finally loosened enough for the cook to wriggle out. Sanji didn’t hesitate to start kicking his tail, his mind guiding him to just swim far away from him. His heartbeat quickened and he felt something of a laugh bubble from his chest; he was finally free! He could feel the chemicals in his brain reward him as he kept swimming, a high coursing through his whole body. It felt right, this is what he needed, he felt delirious with this weird euphoria, he—

He smelled something. 

Something strong, and metallic.

Don’t look back.

The grip his instincts had on him was strong, but Sanji still stopped and turned his head.

It wasn’t hard to make out the swordsman’s body in the ocean water, even from a good distance. However, he couldn’t help but gape at what exactly drew his eyes. This time, the damage wasn’t some simple scratches on the swordsman’s shoulder. No, this time, his nails had caught his skin and tore Zoro’s chest, the cuts nearly parallel with the scar already embedded there. Crimson ribbons of blood slowly flooded the ocean water between them. Despite it all, to Sanji’s surprise, his expression wasn’t one of shock or anger. He looked… resigned, eyes fluttering.

Sanji watched the swordsman in the water for a moment. He didn’t kick his legs or even flail his arms to swim up. He didn’t so much as weakly move his body at all. Gently, bubbles escaping between his lips, he let his eyes close.

He was sinking.

He was sinking…

He was SINKING!

He whipped back around towards Zoro, every nerve in his body shot and adrenaline coursing through him in spades. He focused all his strength on kicking with his tail, cutting through the sea water like it was second nature. His instincts—his twisted, dying heart—screamed at him, pulling and scratching their tiny claws in his brain to leave, to go back to that grotto and take the men’s deal, to sink deeper into the ocean and never look back, but he didn’t falter.

He felt something prickle behind his eyes. There would be no point heeding this curse’s call if Zoro died.

Sanji scooped the swordsman’s body in his arms and propelled them towards the surface. His breath was ragged but he tried to maintain some semblance of clarity as he scanned for the shore. He needed to get him to land, he needed to get the water out of his lungs, he needed to stop the bleeding. Finally spotting a small inlet hidden by tall rocks, Sanji used the last of the strength in his fins to swim them towards land, his muscles screaming with overexertion. 

Carefully, letting the waves lap them onto the beach, the cook placed the swordsman on the sand, his red-stained chest facing the sky. 

He wasn’t moving. His chest didn’t rise or fall.

Sanji’s strength wavered only briefly, a wave of pure panic washing through him before he started pressing down on Zoro’s chest. Nothing. He gently tilted Zoro’s chin up; even if the cook didn’t breathe like he did before, he’d be damned if he wasn’t gonna try. Quelling his tremors as best he could, Sanji put his mouth over Zoro’s and blew air back into him in an attempt to kickstart his heart. He kept repeating this, his form shakier as he became more desperate.

Please. Mosshead, c’mon, you've survived worse than this. Please.

Still, Zoro didn’t move.

The voice in his head, for the first time, was silent.

Breath stuttering, a unique ache bloomed in Sanji’s chest as he nearly collapsed on Zoro. He collected himself enough to lift the swordsman, cradling him in his arms, but he could feel his last tethers of stability start to snap. The mix of seawater and blood stained his chest and dripped onto the sand. His brow furrowed and jaw clenched as he wheezed out some ugly, inhumane sound, loud enough to echo against the tall rocks. The cry tore through his body, the feeling far too familiar for comfort, wrecking what was left of his vocal chords.

Zoro wasn’t breathing, he’s bleeding, he’s going to die, he killed him, he fuckin’ killed him, after everything he tried to do, the bastard was good as dead and he…

Mosshead, Marimo, Zoro, Zoro, Zoro…!!

As Sanji wept, he heard footsteps approaching the two of them, too uniform to be his crew. His grip around Zoro’s body tightened, careful not to scratch this time. As the men in cerulean suits advanced, something in Sanji grew needles and spikes. Every nerve on his body stood on end, but he knew it wasn’t from fear.

Right now, he doesn’t feel like some precious thing. 

He felt his delicate fins flare and scales shift, like hackles being raised.

Yes, right now he certainly felt like a wild beast.

With the last ounces of grace he could muster, the cook placed Zoro back down on his back with trembling hands. Poised over the swordsman’s body, Sanji’s claws dug into the sand, a different sound tearing through his chest. His tail whipped behind him, sending a splash of seawater.

This time, he didn’t feel like prey.

His face twisted into a snarl, fangs glistening from the reflections on the water. He looked up at the men and saw them gulp, his eyes likely full of despair and bloodlust. All fears faded to make way for a white hot rage. 

Perhaps that’s how he needed to feel right now. 

Sanji lunged.

Chapter Text

His body was floating in a stagnant, navy blue darkness.

As a few bubbles escaped his mouth, Zoro belatedly recognized that he was in deep water, probably the ocean, even if there wasn’t any sea life to be found in any direction. He could feel the pressure of water on his body, but he wasn’t drowning; he could breathe, but his lungs felt heavy, like his chest had limited room to expand. The feeling wasn’t unbearable, and for a moment, Zoro considered just closing his eye again, content to keep drifting in this comfortable void. 

But in the darkness, something glittered. He languidly held out his hand and watched as a green fish scale drifted into his palm, shining like a small beacon. Zoro was compelled to kiss it in apology; for all his bravado, he failed. Sanji was out there somewhere, and he was sinking. More scales started to rain down in the space surrounding him, gently dancing like fallen petals. He had some weird feeling that they were summoning something to him.

On cue, something swam down to him, face obscured.

He knew from the golden hair and lean figure that it must be Sanji, his green tail and fins glimmering still in the inky water. But his face was lit up brighter than the sun, forcing Zoro to squint and sluggishly bring an arm up to shield his eyes. Somehow, behind the blinding light, the swordsman could make out the usual smirk the cook wore; a smug, insufferable expression of victory whenever he woke him up from a particularly deep sleep on the ship or successfully caught him off guard. On cue, this strange Sanji grabbed that same arm shielding his eyes and started to pull him through the inky water, his light and power reminiscent of a shooting star.

Zoro wasn’t sure where he was being pulled to; perhaps this was just some distraction, a dream leading him to be so lost he wouldn’t be able to find his way back. Not that he’d admit to being lost, ever. He belatedly considered that this was some punishment, that he was being dragged deeper into the darkness to suffer or atone. He always imagined that he’d be the one clawing his way out of the depths of hell, but his heart wasn’t in it now. He slowly started to close his eye, soothed by the feeling of water rushing past him and by the comforting grip on his wrist.

The grip tightened.

Are you really just going to let yourself slip away , a voice echoed.

His eye shot open. The blinding face didn’t turn towards him.

I can only take you back if you want it. We’re almost there, you lazy ass. So what’ll it be?

Zoro’s expression hardened. Well, alright, he could let a lot of things slide but he wasn’t about to fuckin’ die. Not when a particularly snarky voice egged him on like that.

Finally feeling some warmth in his chest, Zoro kicked his feet, catching up to the blinding cook instead of dragging behind. He thought he could see some gentle smile imprinted where his face would be, their hands now tightly laced together. As they swam together, the ocean became bluer and brighter and warmer until—

Zoro awoke to the sound of a man screaming.

He gasped hard, his body spasming to flip his body over and cough up sea water. He put a hand to his chest as he regained his breath, vaguely feeling the sting of a wound washed with salt water and sand, but that was far from his mind. His vision was still blurry, but he could make out his swords and his red sash just a short distance away on the shore. Slowly getting his bearings and grabbing his blades, Zoro tried to pinpoint who was making all that noise.

It took a moment to figure out that the man screaming wasn’t just one voice. No, it was the terrified yells of many.

He slowly pushed himself up to his knees, his muscles protesting against the strain. He could vaguely make out Sanji’s gold and green against a sea of blue, almost…swimming in it. Yet Zoro knew the ocean was behind him, the waves lapping at his feet. Between the vague shape of Sanji and raging blue was a distinct red that sent a shiver down his spine. He blinked hard, praying that what he dreaded hadn’t come true as his vision finally adjusted. 

There, against dozens of the men in cerulean, there was the telltale spatter of blood against suits as the cook fought tooth and nail. 

Sanji’s teeth shredded cloth and skin mercilessly, probably trying to make up for the absence of his flaming kicks. His claws were strong and precise, grabbing and scratching anywhere they could reach, pulling him up and off the sand like he was floating between bodies. Zoro could clearly imagine the cook complaining about putting his delicate hands in danger, but they certainly didn’t look delicate at the moment, and the swordsman would be hard-pressed to say it didn’t light his heart on fire. 

Zoro let out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding, feeling a bit silly; the bastard might’ve lost the use of his legs, but he was still a beast nonetheless. He wasn’t hurt, nor running away. He was fighting, and he was winning .

As he looked around the beach, his presence not even being acknowledged among the chaos, there were a few men sprawled out unconscious, and many running off to lick their wounds in the sand. He wasn’t sure if the screaming and hissing came from the enraged merman or from his victims, but it was a violent cacophony either way. Watching in subdued glee, Zoro was ready to join the fray and have that glasses bastard beg for mercy when he heard someone shriek.

While more goons started appearing to assist against his crewmate’s slaughter, they all suddenly parted to reveal the caviar salesman himself, struggling in the middle of the fray. Sanji had his fangs sunken in the man’s leg, tears in his eyes as his jaw clamped down with all his might. The vendor was, for the first time since they’ve been on this god forsaken island, quite disheveled, strands of hair sticking out and a tight grimace marring his face. The swordsman quietly reveled in the sight, only sorry that he wasn’t the one to cause it. Still, he didn’t particularly like the look of his rapier at his side, grip tightening around the handle.

“You might still have a little fight in you,” the salesman growled, pointing his sword towards a snarling Sanji, “but I’ll teach you who’s in charge!”

Before the blade could come within an inch of the cook’s wild hair, it hit steel.

“For someone like you,” Zoro grunted, grinning wildly despite the pain, “I’ll only need one sword to cut you down.” He punctuated by hitting the vendor’s blade away, nicking his shoulder in the process. Zoro smirked. His posture wasn’t the greatest, but even with some blood loss, the aspiring Greatest Swordsman still parried this weakling with ease. He could see Sanji finally release the man’s leg, breathing heavily but still poised to keep fighting. Just seeing the lengths of Sanji’s anger nearly tempted Zoro into slicing those stupid glasses off his face; however, he resisted, because what fun would there be in giving him a disadvantage? 

He was already fucked for messing with Zoro, after all.

“You fool!” The salesman hissed through gritted teeth, blood spilling down his arm as he raised his rapier again. “You think you scare me in your condition? You and your feral teammate?? You’re still outnumbered.”

“Ohhhhh~ is that right?” A voice called from behind him.

The salesman jerked his head back towards the source of the sound. Just beyond the ocean of blue-suited goons, cutting through the surrounding grass and rock, were the rest of the Straw Hats. Luffy proudly grinned atop a particularly tall, craggy rock as their companions already made quick work of any men still standing. While he was distracted, Zoro opted to hit the back of the man’s head with the hilt of Wado, knocking the guy down and letting an eager captain take care of him.

He let out a shaky breath and leaned against a nearby rock, sheathing his sword as blood still dripped from his chest. He was sure Sanji and him could’ve messed them up without any backup, but knowing he wouldn’t have to power through with sheer force of will made his muscles start to go limp from exhaustion. In his peripheral, a transformed Chopper barrelled through men like they weighed nothing to fuss over the swordsman and encourage him to sit down, but he wasn’t paying attention. He was focused on one thing.

Finally, Sanji looked at him.

His face was coated in blood, the ruby red dripping down his chest providing a lovely contrast to his green scales, though it was partially washed away with some sweat and a few tears. In this rare instance, Zoro saw Sanji’s unobscured face, his long locks pushed back and trademark brows creased in concentration. Those fangs of his were on full display, still bared and snarling in defense. It was probably inappropriate that his heart skipped a beat then, but he wasn’t too concerned, especially when Sanji was looking right at him, rage evaporating into recognition, then relief. He was dragging himself through the sand, Chopper’s concerned tone carrying through the noise but otherwise unheeded as Zoro staggered to meet him halfway.

“Were you really n-not gonna leave any for me, stupid cook?” Zoro rasped, kneeling down and grinning like he didn’t have a giant, burning gash in his chest. 

He could feel the weight lift off his shoulders when Sanji didn’t look at Zoro like he was a stranger anymore. His face was open, and familiar. Dumbass , is all it said, looking furious but sounding more choked up than anything. Zoro couldn’t help but try to laugh, even if his muscles protested. Sanji’s body shook like he was trying to laugh too, even if his face quickly twisted into a raw sob, weakly thumping his fist against the swordsman’s good shoulder. For all he cared about appearances, the cook was an ugly crier, though Zoro decided to keep that to himself as they sat there in the sand.

If he had the strength to cry freely, Zoro was assured everything would turn out alright.

After his sniffling died down, the pure bliss on the cook’s face lit Zoro’s heart ablaze, aching in a way that he welcomed for the first time in awhile. He imagined that when Sanji found his All Blue, he’d look with that same unbridled joy and wonder. He took the cook’s bloody hand in his, slowly rising to his feet as the fighting concluded.

“Let’s go home.”

Zoro yawned, feeling truly relaxed for the first time since they arrived on Siren Island.

He stretched his arms in the air until he heard his back emit a satisfying crack, a long sigh escaping as he looked out at the horizon. No longer was he on his stressful mission or receiving stares from leering locals. Now he was just walking along the brick roads with his head held up high, breathing easy on his stroll.

“The fruit vendor said that the house was to the second left, Zoro,” Robin said, extra arms appearing on his body to turn his head towards the correct path.

He clicked his tongue in annoyance. Well, the stroll would be relatively easy. Before he left the ship, she had been elected to “chaperone” him by the crew, to make sure he got back safe and in a timely manner. His injuries were healing fine, but Nami would be cross if he got lost right before they planned to leave.

Not to mention he did have a prior engagement back at the ship.

“He seemed incredibly grateful to you for saving his daughter,” Robin continued, unperturbed by Zoro’s sour face as she regarded the bag of fruits Zoro carried. “She must have been one of the captives.”

“I’m sure the cook would cry hearing that,” Zoro griped, scratching the bandages on his chest with his free hand. “Something about being sorry he couldn’t sweep all these ladies off their metaphorical feet or whatever.”

“That sounds just like him,” Robin chuckled. “Do you think about our cook that much, Zoro?”

“Don’t analyze me right now,” Zoro said, turning away. The path they walked gradually turned from brick and stone to tamped-down grass and dirt.

“Thinking about all the women we saved was nice and all, even if the air on the island is tense now,” Robin mused, though her eyes betrayed her casual demeanor, remaining ever-calculating. “The reach of those men was far and deep to embed themselves in the very culture of this place. Their economy will take some time to adjust and recover from the dissolution of the gang, and not all the citizens will be happy that their way of life was uprooted like this. No matter how much good it did, it will scar this island for years to come.”

Zoro did recall a few newly-emptied stalls on their way here, and how deserted the mermaid stages were. Some were vandalized or destroyed, but plenty remained pristine, like the staff was simply on break and would return any minute. It was an indication that even though many celebrated the changes on their island, there was a hesitation to tear it all down. He wouldn’t be surprised if many locals would remain bitter over it, or even try to revive it somehow. Of course, none of the citizens that were ostensibly out of a job really wanted to take up the job of performer to make up for the new deficit, but of course that didn’t make them any less angry.

“If it’s a way of life they want to go back to, they can choose it,” Zoro scoffed. “Yeah it’s gonna wreck their shit, but the reason it’s scarred is because it was allowed to happen for so long. Too many people got comfortable with it. They have plenty of other things going for them, so long as they actually look out for one another.” He paused and looked off to the side again, suddenly self-conscious of his words. “Or something like that.”

Robin smiled. “Yes, I think you’re essentially right.”

“‘Essentially,’ shut up!” Zoro groaned, the urge to lightly shove her briefly surfacing in his mind. Another thing that would scandalize their stupid lovesick cook.

The swordsman put his hand up for them both to stop, the periwinkle house barely peeking over the hill. He turned to the archaeologist, passing off the bag of fruits to her with a look that said ‘stay here.’ Really, it was more of a formality; if she wanted to listen in, she would get her way, but he told her clearly that he wasn’t bringing company with him, and he doubted she wanted to make her presence known. Compliantly, Robin waltzed to a nearby tree and leaned against it, her knowing smile never leaving her face. He resisted comparing her to that rotting bastard in glasses, even if they were both a little irritating and sent goosebumps up his arms. 

Well, at least she was on his side and that fucker was behind bars somewhere.

He nodded once to his crewmate before continuing down the path, the house finally coming into full view. With just a few cursory glances, everything about it looked the same as when he was last here all those days ago. Yet, something was off. It took a few moments of Zoro scanning for a familiar face for him to realize what was different.

Rocking on that creaky wooden chair on the porch was an older woman he didn’t recognize; a tall, willowy lady with a few moles on her face and silver locks braided down past her hips, nearly dragging onto the floor. She wore olive green overalls over a tan shirt, the pant legs rolled up slightly to better showcase her white sandals with straps that threaded up past her ankles. She glanced up from a small book in her hand briefly enough to notice Zoro, smiling warmly and waving. He couldn’t help the perplexed expression his face pulled, hesitantly waving back. He might not have a photographic memory, but he was pretty sure that wasn’t the same elderly woman he met last.

“Young man! Over here!”

Zoro turned left, towards the wildflower field to find the old woman he remembered, clad in a goldenrod sundress and hair tied back in a white headscarf, holding a basket full of picked flax, daisies, and asters. By all accounts, she was as unchanged as her house, but he swore that she was glowing now. She definitely smiled wider as she waded through the field to meet Zoro. 

“I wasn’t sure I’d see you,” the woman said, dusting her hands off with her skirt, “but I’m glad you found this place again.”

“It only took asking the whole town,” Zoro grumbled, scratching the back of his neck meekly. “I was half-convinced I just dreamt you up. Or perhaps had an incredibly vivid hallucination.” The woman laughed, the breeze pulling a couple strands of hair from underneath her scarf. He heard that rusty weathervane squeak as it gently turned.

“I’d offer for you to come in,” she continued, “but I’m sure you don’t have too much time left on this island. Even all the way out here, we’ve heard of what’s happened, and I doubt you’ll want to stay too long.”

Zoro simply nodded. He thought back to those pristine tanks and angry citizens. Well, even if they weren’t necessarily a threat, they were still pirates and had no interest in sticking around long enough for any Marines to catch up with them; once Sanji turned back, they were booking it. 

“I’m only sorry I couldn’t see your friend before you left,” she sighed, pulling a daisy out to smell it. “I wanted to meet the man who was responsible for helping save all those victims of the caviar.”

“He’s an annoyingly gentlemanly guy,” Zoro scoffed, crossing his arms in some sort of pout, “especially to ladies, so I’m sure if I brought him here we’d never leave.”

“Oh? Do tell me more about him!” The woman smiled, genuinely interested. Zoro couldn’t help but smirk.

“Not a chance, I’m not gonna stand here and gossip to you.”

She laughed again, placing the daisy back and pulling an aster flower from her basket, regarding it in the sunlight. “Well, perhaps one day in the future, if I’m lucky to live that long, you two can make your way back to this island and you can introduce him to me properly. I’m grateful that you managed to save him.”

Zoro’s mind couldn’t help but flash to the grotto, to a Sanji that looked at him with fury.

“Something is troubling you,” the woman stated.

Zoro uncrossed his arms, hands clenched into fists at his sides. “Back then, in the gang’s hideout, the cook—my friend was acting out of his mind. He took a scratch at me to escape and I blacked out, but when I came to, he was acting his old self again. Or, well, something more like his old self, at least.” He scrubbed his face a bit, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I thought for sure I lost him, but I don’t know what happened to help him change back. It shouldn’t bother me, but it nags at my mind still.”

“Ahh, yes,” the woman sighed, a pained smile on her face. “I think I understand what happened.”

He couldn’t help but stare at her with ravenous curiosity. She continued.

“The caviar’s last step is technically “heart,” but really it affects the mind; it changes the way the victim’s brain receives signals and puts their body on high alert, reacting as if they’re in danger or in pain. It isolates them through constant stress and traps their mind in loneliness, making their heart ache and turning them away from rational choices.”

“So that’s why they waited,” Zoro growled, his brow furrowed in realization. “That’s when it’s easiest to manipulate their victims.” 

“It’s certainly probable,” she agreed, tucking a stray hair behind her ear. “But it’s also risky, as it turns out that part of the ‘spell’ has a simple solution: if the victim comes in contact with the blood of a loved one, they regain a bit of their senses and humanity.”

Zoro ignored the way his chest fluttered, opting instead for a wry smile. “A mutual sacrifice.” 

“The mermaid from the tale gave everything,” the old woman mused, twirling the flower between her fingers, “so it stands that what she really wanted was something in return. An exchange of life, so each has a part of each other. Though it seems blood couldn’t completely reverse all the changes, just that of the heart. Perhaps if the whole body is taken, that could be an alternate reversal, though that’d be an unsavory solution to attempt.”

He decided not to dwell on how willing he’d be to try such a thing, rolling the information in his brain. “Why didn’t you tell me all this?”

“Oh, I didn’t know any of this for certain. I had theories about what happened, but it wasn’t until I reunited with my dear Lilith that any of my ideas were confirmed.” She turned back towards the house and waved to the woman on the porch, smiling with her whole face. Zoro looked on, the coastal breeze picking up dancing stray petals as the willowy woman waved back, a blush dusting her face. He thought back to a hoop with golden thread.

“She’s the mermaid you were sewing from when I last saw you, wasn’t she?”

The old woman sighed, a warm smile on her face. “Yes. My Lilith. Her legs are still weak so she won’t be making her way over, though she’ll be okay.” She paused, her smile faltering. “She was captured many years ago. I tried my best to look after her when the changes came, but one day I went out to our spot by the sea and she wasn’t there.”

Zoro could fill in some of the blanks, seeing the form of a desperate mermaid. “She was heartbroken?”

“At the time,” the old woman chuckled, “we were both young and stupid. I was encouraged to leave the island, but I knew she was still out there. I couldn’t leave her behind, not as long as I lived. All I could think of for years was that it all could’ve been avoided, but neither of us were as open back then. I’m just happy you were able to allow her to return. We truly thank you.” With that, she bows her head towards the swordsman. 

Zoro put his hand up in deference. “No need. I was there for my own stupid friend.”

“Well, regardless. After all the mistakes and misunderstandings from those years ago, we’re trying to make up for lost time. You, however,” she poked Zoro’s chest, right where his bandages peaked out beneath his coat, “are still young.”

She grabbed Zoro’s right hand, opening it flat to place the aster flower she held onto his palm. He regarded it only for a moment before he curled his fingers around it protectively. He chuckled, thinking back to her gesturing with those silver scissors. 

“You don’t have to tell me twice.” He bowed his own head gently. “Farewell, ma’am.”

“Farewell, pirate,” she said, bowing her head in return with that sunny smile of hers.

Making his way back down the path, he spotted Robin still taking shade underneath the tree, eyes closed as another breeze blew by. When he got closer, she effortlessly fell into pace with him. He paused only for a moment to spare a glance back to that quaint little house. There, he could see the two women kissing each other, flowers in their hair.

“I’m sure he’s eager for you to get back,” Robin offered, her smile widening as she handed the bag of fruits back to him, “so we should make sure he’s not waiting too long for you, Prince Zoro.”

“I’ll kill you,” Zoro growled, Robin only laughing in response as the rugged swordsman imagined two ex-pirates in a quaint little house by the sea. For the first time in weeks, he didn’t think about how that caviar must’ve tasted like.

He tried not to look too eager, he really did. 

He had planned out his perfect casual demeanor, totally ready to just act like he was distracted with some fishes or the view of the horizon when Zoro approached. But Sanji couldn’t swim still when he finally spotted that shock of green start to approach on the docks, diving down and surfacing back up again with a splash and a wild grin. 

Chopper had worked diligently for two nights to reverse engineer the cure from the caviar, already distributing the cure to all of the village victims, but Sanji insisted he take his dosage last. Despite his fears, his mind was still clear and there wasn’t any stress on his body. The changes would take a few hours to start reverting, and the cook considered just staying in the tub while it happened. However, the crew helped carry him out to the ocean to enjoy swimming one last time, now that the threat of permanence was no longer looming over him. 

And Zoro had agreed to join him once he finished business in town. 

“I think you owe me a relaxing swim, Curly,” he had told him with a smirk.

The way Sanji’s heart palpated, he wasn’t sure it’d be “relaxing,” but he did agree; after everything, he just wanted a moment of peace.

Zoro finally made his way to Sanji’s spot just beside the Sunny, a wicked smile plastered on his face as he knelt down to sit, his feet dangling over the dock’s edge. Next to him was a folded nightgown for Sanji to wear in case he changed back during his swim. 

“Hope you weren’t waiting too long, shitty cook!” Zoro called, taking his boots off and placing them next to the nightgown. Sanji stuck his tongue out, the familiar mood of their bickering coming back with full force as he turned away in a pout. Zoro untied his sash, gently placing his swords just on top of Sanji’s gown.

Sanji felt something flutter on top of his head, like a stray feather. Delicately, Sanji felt around with the tips of his claws and plucked a purple flower—an aster, if he recalled correctly. He held it up in the sunlight and curiously turned it in his hands. When he saw the shadow of the swordsman cast over him, he knew he only had a moment to shield the bloom in his hands before a huge wave of water doused him. 

He clicked his tongue; of course the bastard would just cannonball into cold ocean water like it was nothing. When Zoro resurfaced, shaking the water off his head like a dog, Sanji opened his hands to reveal the flower again, staring at it. 

“A gift,” Zoro simply said, wiping some water off his face. He knew it’d be foolish to try and ask for any sort of elaboration. Unsure what he was supposed to do with it, he very gently threaded it in his hair, behind his left ear. He could see the swordsman gape a bit and he immediately flushed under his gaze, feeling silly. Before the swordsman could say anything, Sanji quickly brought his hand to the surface of the water and sent a wave of water Zoro’s way, too quick for him to block or dodge.

Even from a distance, Sanji could see the vein pop on his forehead, immediately retaliating with a wave of his own. He was still part-fish so the blonde was probably less affected, but it was the principle of the matter as the two engaged in childish splashing, acting like it was some sort of intense battle. They were sure that people passing on the docks were staring, but they still engaged in their squabble until they were panting in exhaustion.

After a particular wave, Sanji shook sea water out of his hair as Zoro looked back at him wistfully.

“You’re more like yourself again, Curly,” Zoro said, tilting his head back to feel his hair dip in the water. “I missed it.”

Sanji’s heart thumped loud, his hand quick to clutch his chest like it would escape otherwise. Shit, bastard can’t just say things like that! Zoro must have read him, because he laughed and lifted his head back.

“What did you think we were all working so hard for, dumbass?” Zoro smirked. “We weren’t going to accept going back out there if you couldn’t be yourself. If you couldn’t be happy.”

Despite the heartfelt sentiment, Sanji couldn’t help the grimace that passed by his face, swimming closer and poking the swordsman’s chest with his claw. Wasn’t this the man who was going to hand himself over to be changed? Wasn’t this the man who was about to sacrifice himself too? The musclehead was always going on about his goals, was he really going to risk it all like that? If the green-haired brute had actually succeeded, Sanji couldn’t imagine how he’d even begin to deal with it. 

He absently traced where he scratched Zoro; well, he supposed he’d do something similar to when he was sure the swordsman was dead by his hand. The scene of Zoro bleeding in the sand was still imprinted behind his eyes, like an afterimage that appeared at the worst times. His thoughts were running too fast to attempt some clearer expression of what he wanted to say, only interrupted by Zoro grabbing the hand on his chest. 

“I can tell what you’re thinking, and I’m gonna insist you cut that shit out,” he said, pulling his wrist a bit to sternly look Sanji in the eye. “All that’s in the past, and we both made our choices. And though you’ve probably learned your lesson, I know I would choose my path again in a heartbeat. So there’s no use dwelling on it, yeah?”

Zoro kept his arm there a minute before releasing, his expression remaining level. Of course he would say something like that. It pissed Sanji off, even if he knew the mosshead was right; for all the suffering, they uprooted something serious on this island, and he wouldn’t go back on that choice. Even though it was painful for him too, Zoro was with him all the way, just as bullheaded as ever, and he wouldn’t change that either.

What it came down to was that he didn’t want that situation to be reversed. He didn’t want to let Zoro go either.

Shaking off his thoughts, he dove underwater, a distant splash indicating that Zoro was following close behind. He’d swear he wasn’t running away, but he needed a distraction; if he was going to experience the ocean as part-fish, he would heed Zoro’s words and not waste it.

Here in the expanse of the ocean, with a clear mind and relaxed body, Sanji did feel a bit like a proper merman. He’d admit to relishing in the feeling of his long hair weightlessly floating in the water; after they had set sail for the next island, he planned to cut it again, even if he was more than capable of pulling this look off. For the time being, he preferred to alleviate the heaviness from his head on land. He also noted that Zoro’s hair looked particularly lush down here, the color of the water making it resemble more like algae than ever before. 

He couldn’t suppress his smug expression as he quickly swam circles around the swordsman, coming up with a plethora of teases in his mind. Around them, small schools of fish joined, threading through Sanji’s hair and trying to nibble on Zoro’s. The swordsman must’ve found it amusing because he laughed, large bubbles floating from his lips and dispersing a few fish.

Sanji immediately stopped his twirls and covered Zoro's mouth, feeling like he did when he yelled at Zoro to nap somewhere else or insist he not be reckless in a fight. Don’t waste your breath , he projected. And like always, Zoro gave him some annoyed glare, probably tempted to lick Sanji’s hand like some bratty kid just to piss him off, but it was undercut by a different emotion. Their faces were so close right now, the various life in the ocean fading into the background.

He gently dragged his hand from Zoro’s mouth across his face, his claws gracing the swordsman’s jawline as he floated a little closer. He stroked it a bit, careful not to scratch as he bumped them against the gold earrings, imagining them making a gentle sound even in the water. He stared into Zoro’s eye meaningfully, trying to express what he was about to do.

This will help, Sanji thought.

With his other hand, he covered the swordsman’s eye. He could see Zoro’s mouth twist in annoyance, but it was fleeting as Sanji carefully cradled his chin, bridging the gap between their lips to grant Zoro more air. It was chaste and brief, yet his breath still hitched when they separated, missing the warmth as he took his hand off Zoro’s eye. The swordsman himself looked a bit dazed as well, only moving enough to keep himself from sinking.

He thought for sure one of them would properly pull away by now to swim again in the open ocean, but both simply floated in the tension, staring at the other. After everything the two went through, after everything Zoro did for him, Sanji wanted to believe that his heart returned to him for a reason. He wanted to believe Zoro returned his love. But he knew that could simply be a conceited perspective. If he was wrong, the alternative would be too difficult to bear; even with all the confidence and resolution from these past few weeks, he still found himself hesitating.

…Hesitating and second-guessing is what got him in all this.

His heart picked up speed, so afraid of what he was bracing to do, but he had made up his mind.

Fuck it.

Before he could pull too far away, Sanji caught Zoro’s face with both hands and held him there. He could see the surprise plain on the swordsman’s face, but he didn’t struggle. Neither tried to even kick their feet to keep afloat anymore, barely a bubble between them, their eyes glimmering in the light filtering through the water surface.

Thumbs gently stroking both sides of his face, Sanji asked a silent question. He only paused a few moments before he pulled. 

Their lips met again, and Sanji felt like Zoro was taking all the air in his lungs back, the heat strong enough to boil the ocean and his heartbeat loud enough to ripple across the waves. Even though it felt like his nervous system was under attack again, he never felt so alive, ready for his body to melt into seafoam against Zoro’s. His fangs grazed Zoro’s lips and damn if he didn’t want to bite down and scratch and grip his shoulders tighter. The swordsman’s hand snaked up to his neck and stroked his gills before settling on the base of his head, fingers gently carding through his golden locks. He felt his tail curl around Zoro’s legs, pressing them close as they started to sink down.

Zoro’s mouth tasted salty, yet sweet. Complex. He immediately knew he was addicted.

Belatedly, almost too immersed to think, Sanji felt something shift in his body.

Suddenly they were breaking away, and it was so hard to breathe, and Sanji thought for sure it was just the intensity of the kiss, except now he was swallowing sea water, and the two were rocketing back to the surface so fast he thought they’d get the bends. They both gasped as they emerged, Sanji inelegantly coughing up sea water as the other tried to hold him steady. He tried to get his bearings quickly, still delirious over what just happened, when he caught Zoro’s expression.

His eye was blown wide, some vague shock coloring his features. In Sanji’s rattled mind he imagined that the mosshead was regretting everything, this was surely what preceded rejection, the thoughts only quieting when Zoro put his hand on the cook’s cheek. He was looking intently at something Sanji couldn’t see. He dared a glance down at his rough reflection in the sea water.

Against the waves, Sanji’s eyes were no longer dark navy blue. 

They still peeked behind long blonde locks, but there was no mistaking that they returned to their stormy blue color. An experimental trace with his tongue saw that his fangs turned back into his usual canines. Looking beyond that, keeping him swimming upright were his two legs, scales and fins slowly shedding and dissolving away. He lifted his right hand, palm facing the sky, and slowly absorbed that it was no longer webbed or sharp. As he experimentally rubbed his thumb against his slightly pruney fingertips, something bubbled up from his chest.

Sanji laughed.

His brow furrowed and face scrunched up, like the act of laughing was squeezing everything out of him; for the first time in days, it wasn’t a wheeze or strained choke, it was truly his laugh. Zoro gradually mirrored his expression, joining in laughter like his glee was contagious. Neither knew if what ran down their faces were tears or streaks of seawater, but they didn’t care. The sound wasn’t the prettiest, but it was thundering and from a deep place within them both, cast towards the sky with reckless abandon.

“Zoro..!” Sanji called between breaths, drifting even closer to Zoro; his voice was still weak from lack of use, but he missed it too much to resist. “Marimo, mosshead, bastard, Zoro!!!”

“I know, I can hear you, shut the fuck up!!” Zoro snickered, punctuating it with a small splash towards them both. 

“I love… I love you!” Sanji gasped, shaking the water out of his hair as he tried to grasp Zoro’s arms. Now, he knew the drops of water on his face were tears, his grin stretching wider. “I love you, Zoro!!”

Some part of him was terrified of the inevitable pause that was sure to follow, the two bobbing in the open ocean. Yet Zoro didn’t look perturbed by what he said; instead, he just smiled and laughed good-naturedly, hugging the cook’s head against his shoulder. 

“Yeah, I know,” he rasped, his grip inexplicably tightening. “Hold your breath.”

What?

He only had a few seconds to register his words and comply before Zoro plunged the two back underwater, releasing his grip on Sanji. The two floated apart a bit, and the blonde was ready to bare his teeth and glare at the mosshead for doing this after his heartfelt confession, but again the way he looked at him gave Sanji pause.

Under the ocean waves, he couldn’t really hear anything. As Zoro’s mouth moved, Sanji doubted he was even making an effort to project the words through the water.

However, what he read on his lips was unmistakable.

I love you, Sanji.

He smiled, trying to hold back a sob.

Sanji barreled into Zoro’s scarred, tan chest, forcing them to resurface with more gasps and coughs. He was breathless, chest stuttering like crazy between laughs to get enough oxygen, but the delirium felt so good for once. He was lightheaded enough to accidentally forget to float a few times, bringing a sputtering mosshead down with him, though he just laughed along with him. Sanji distantly thought about telling Zoro ‘thank you’ properly now that he could speak, but while Zoro kissed all the salt off his neck and face, the two snickering like kids, he decided it could wait. They had plenty of time now.