Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Sanji hates Mondays. 

He hates Mondays, and he hates rushing through his morning routine. He also hates running and sweating while wearing jeans and one of his favourite button-ups. 

But he forgot to charge his phone and slept past his alarm, so he had to rush out with half-combed hair, shirt untucked, and nothing to fill his grumbling stomach.

At least he doesn't live too far away from the faculty, and that allowed him to transform his usually quiet and relaxing thirty-minute walk into a fifteen-minute race against the clock. A race that, breathless and sweaty, he miraculously managed to win.

When he opens the doors of the classroom, Sanji is met with students milling about, slowly making their way to their seats, chattering in low whispers, or aimlessly scrolling through their phones. The professor is nowhere to be seen.  

Taking a deep breath to calm his racing heart, Sanji slowly walks down the steps towards the first empty chair his eyes can locate. He lets the bag fall to the ground as he melts on his seat with a long exhale, one hand raising to try and pat down his knotted hair with his eyes closed while he licks his lips, mouth dry from the run. 

When he opens his eyes, Professor Rayleigh is entering the room, an apology quickly tumbling from his lips as the students shuffle in their seats to grab their laptops and notebooks, shushing each other and greeting the professor. 

Fishing a pen and a small notepad from his bag, Sanji glances to his left, taking notice of Straw Hat guy sleeping soundly, head resting on his crossed arms, while his weird worn-out hat covers his face and soft snores quietly reach Sanji’s ears.  

Straw Hat mumbles something in his sleep, and a couple of students turn to glare at him while someone else snorts, and Sanji’s eyes immediately raise to the source of the sound. He bits his lip and can already feel the blush slowly raising on the back of his neck as he glances at the guy he has mentally labelled as Mosshead, Straw Hat’s inseparable companion. 

Chiselled jaw, crooked smirk, deep grey eyes, and unmistakable green hair—the reason for his nickname. Sanji can almost hear Nami’s voice teasing him for staring at the handsome stranger, his crush as subtle as fireworks exploding in the dark sky. 

However, the more Sanji stares at him, the colder his skin gets. Unable to tear his eyes away, he feels shivers running up and down his spine, and he’s positive there’s something wrong in the air around them, something heavy and cold that makes the hair of his nape stand while goosebumps rush all over his skin. 

Sanji knows that the feeling in the pit of his stomach is rarely the preamble of something good, and he has learned at an early age the importance of trusting his gut. Right now, despite the lack of food and the grumbling sounds coming from his stomach, his guts are telling him that something is off with Mosshead, something important is missing. 

When Mosshead raises his eyes from his sleeping friend to Sanji’s face, there is a moment of hesitation and surprise twisting his features. Then his eyes widen, lips slowly opening around a question that Sanji does not hear as he quickly stands up from his seat, breath hitched and mouth agape. 

His notebook falls to the ground, and some students turn to glare his way at the noise while Professor Rayleigh looks at him for a moment before carrying on with his explanation.  

Sanji quickly gathers his belongings and makes his way out of the room, hurrying down the corridor and stopping next to some vending machines. The halls are empty and silent. He rests back against the wall, bag held against his chest and eyes pointed to the ceiling as he uselessly tries to swallow the knot in his dry throat.  

“You can see me.” 

Sanji shudders, instinctively tightening his grip on the bag while he stares at the man in front of him. In the dim lights of the corridor, he finally takes notice of the washed-out green of Mosshead’s hair, the weird pallor of his skin, the halo surrounding his figure, and the earrings swaying as he cocks his head. The usually glimmering gold is not reflecting the light. 

“You’re the first one to actually look in my direction since... I don’t know how long it’s been. Do you know what’s happening? Everyone’s been ignoring me or something.” 

Sanji licks his lips, eyes darting around to be sure no one is coming their way before looking back at the man’s confused and contrite expression. He tries to think back to the last time he crossed paths with Mosshead on his way in or out of class, but the further he goes back in time, the blurrier his memory gets. 

He only knows it’s been quite a while, and even Straw Hat had been missing for a few weeks up until today. Didn’t Nami and Usopp comment about their weird disappearance a few days ago?  

“So? Do you know what’s going on or not?” Blinking away his jumbled thoughts, Sanji glances back at the man, his confusion washed away by irritation and impatience. 

“You’re dead. That’s what’s going on.” Sanji snaps, irritated. 

The moment the words leave his lips, Sanji wishes he could swallow them back down at the look on Mosshead's face. He's completely taken aback by the harsh answer.  

Not only did he die, but he must’ve suffered a gruesome death given the amnesia, and Sanji knows how difficult it is to deal with such spirits. He has dealt with his fair share of traumatised ghosts, and he knows that the less they remembered, the more traumatic their deaths had been. Some can even forget all about their passing, not even realising that they died.

Sanji knows that, and yet he just snapped at a ghost who clearly didn't know he was a ghost in the first place.

He takes a deep breath to try and calm his jumbled mind, guilt squeezing his stomach.

“The fuck did you just say? This is not funny, you-” 

“No, you’re right. This isn’t funny at all, and I’m sorry.” Sanji takes a deep breath, watching the guy glare at him while taking a step back, fists clenched at his sides. “I didn’t mean to sound insensitive. Let’s start over, shall we?” 

Mosshead looks at him up and down and then nods, staring at his face with furrowed brows as he crosses his arms, ire flashing in his stormy eyes. Sanji fixes the bag on his shoulder, running a hand through his hair as he gathers the strength to conjure the right words for this delicate moment. 

These are the moments he really hates his 'gift'. 

“You died, and for some reason your spirit’s still laced to this world, which means that you’ve got some unfinished business that’s blocking your way to the Beyond. I can help you with-” 

“Wait what? What the fuck are you talking about?” Mosshead raises both hands in front of him, as if trying to hold Sanji back.

He stops talking and presses his lips together, waiting for the inevitable tantrum. It always happens with those who are not aware they're dead, and he can only hope the guy will not break something or squash him against the wall with an uncontrollable burst of energy. 

“Did you just say that I’m..dead? Like...Like I died, and somehow I don’t remember it?” His words are laced with astonishment, head moving around to gaze at his surroundings. “You got it wrong, man. I-I mean, I’m talking to you!” 

“Yes, but only because I’m a seer. It means that I can see spirits and I help them find their way into the afterlife.” Sanji tries to keep his tone calm and words slow as he gives the guy a small apologetic smile, “I’m really sorry.” 

“No, I-You...No, this cannot be right. What?” Mosshead looks around with wide panicked eyes, one hand uselessly clutching his shirt, while Sanji finally takes in his elegant attire. 

The man is donned with a white, pristine button-up and black slacks, accompanied by black dress shoes. For a moment, he wonders where the man was when his spirit left his body. 

“I’m really, really sorry. I can help you if you just-” 

“No! No, you’re wrong, I cannot be-I just-” The man takes a few steps backwards, voice lowering to a whisper while he uselessly tries to regain control of his erratic breathing, “We were there...we were...out and I don’t-I can’t-” 

Sanji raises one hand, mind trying to find the right words to calm the spirit as he takes a step forward. Then, between one blink and the other, he’s alone, head turning left and right to scan the empty corridor. 

Running a hand through his tussled hair, Sanji slumps back against the wall, sighing as his mind tries to wrap around the idea that a guy he walked by almost every day on his way to lesson died and appeared to him as a spirit. A guy he never had the courage to talk to, despite the number of times his friends had tried to push him, telling him to wake up and make a move. 

Now he will have to talk to Mosshead’s spirit, find out more about his death, and help pass into the Beyond.

And then he’ll never see him again. 

Sanji really hates Mondays. 

**** 

He's smoking his fifth cigarette when students start pouring out of the building. The air quickly fills with the noise of chatter and heated discussions regarding whatever they have just been taught during lesson. 

After almost collapsing to the ground due to exhaustion from the morning run and the mental effort put into trying to understand what had just happened with Mosshead, Sanji had decided to ditch lesson. Pacing back and forth while smoking and pulling at his hair was a far better pastime than sitting on an uncomfortable chair while staring at the wall. 

When his gaze catches a glimpse of a straw hat moving among the small crowd of people, Sanji’s hand freezes a few centimetres from his mouth, and he follows the boy as he slithers his way through the students. 

Straw Hat stops in front of a couple of guys Sanji has never seen before, one with black hair who immediately hugs the student and another with short blond hair and a weird discoloration on his face.  

“How was lesson?” Sanji winces at the hand closing on his shoulder while the cigarette falls from his lax fingers. He quickly stomps on it with a mumbled curse before turning to the person who almost gave him a heart attack. 

“Is everything alright?” Sanji glares at Usopp before turning to Nami, her voice filled with concern as she tilts her head to the side and studies his distraught face, ”You look...worried.” 

“Did you see a ghost?” Under other circumstances, Usopp’s question would have been accompanied by a mirthful smile, and it would have been followed by a sarcastic response. But his friends know of his uncanny ability, so Sanji simply sighs before running a hand through his hair and nodding at the question. 

He turns around just in time to see Straw Hat walk away with the two strangers by his sides. He follows the three men as they walk away with his lower lip trapped between his teeth, briefly noticing the absence of the spirit accompanying them. Mosshead must have been drained after that emotional breakdown. 

“-nji. Are you okay?” Sanji shakes his head and turns to stare at Nami with a questioning hum. He watches, confused, as his two friends share a worried glance before looking at him with matching raised brows. 

“What’s wrong?” He asks in a murmur, rubbing his eyes with the palms of his hands as he tries to shoo away the headache that is slowly settling down in his tired brain. 

“We just asked you if you wanted to get a coffee and talk about it. I don’t think you should attend another lesson for today, and we’re both free until after lunch time.” Nami’s voice is low, and Sanji smiles while nodding slowly at her words. 

“And you can tell us more about whatever spirit you saw. The great ghost hunter Usopp will surely be able to help you with his amazing abilities and immense knowledge.” 

They chuckle, and Sanji feels some of the tension leave his body while he walks behind his friends and absently listens to them complain about this noisy student or that boring professor. 

Sanji really hates Mondays, but he really loves his friends. 

* 

* 

“Hi! I’m sorry to interrupt, and I know this is gonna sound weird, but I have a message for you, Usopp.” The guy stopped talking with the redhead, turning to look at Sanji with wide, surprised eyes. 

He looked rather young with dark skin, a mop of curly black hair hidden under a brown beanie, and two big dark eyes full of confusion adorning a face that Sanji would have described as lithe. His appearance was somewhat graceful, despite the fact that his nose was a little too long for his slender features. 

“Do I know you?” Sanji smiled, trying to muster all his charm while pushing down his nervousness. 

Going to university was a new beginning, a chance to have a life that could be normal and quiet and calm. No spirits following him around in search of help, no people making fun of him for talking to himself, and no name-calling from those he uselessly tried to befriend. 

He thought that maybe, if he avoided glancing at ghosts, he could pretend he was normal and finally have a chance to find someone willing to be his friend. Someone he could trust with his secret. But Sanji’s luck had always been rotten, so he had to make eye contact with a spirit and cave in when she explained her reasons for being unable to move on. 

Sanji briefly glanced at the woman standing right behind Usopp, her smile widening while she nodded at him with glimmering dark eyes. 

“No, I don’t think we had the pleasure to meet before. But I do have a message for you.” Sanji bit his lips and refrained himself from reaching inside his pocket to fish out a cigarette. Not a good first impression: talking about ghosts and death while lazily smoking a cigarette. 

“Well, it would be nice if you introduced yourself, don’t you think?” The redhead crossed her arms and moved her eyes up and down Sanji’s figure, openly studying him with a calculating gaze.

In the sunlight, her light hair looked almost orange, while her brown eyes reminded Sanji of the caramel he was often tasked with melting and stirring when he was still a young apprentice. She was beautiful, but she also had an aura of authority and strength that he had never seen before in such a petite young woman. 

“Nami’s always been extremely straightforward. A very nice girl.” Sanji didn’t look at the woman, turning towards Nami and slightly bowing his head. 

“You’re right, my dear. I apologise for my rude behaviour. My name is Sanji, and you must be Nami.” He saw Nami’s eyes widen in surprise as she exchanged a worried look with Usopp. “I’m always pleased to meet a lovely lady. I wish it could’ve happened under better circumstances.” 

“What do you mean?” Asked the girl with a curious glint in her eyes. 

“I have a message for Usopp.” Sanji repeated once again, looking as the two shared a few glances and weird expressions. They shared some kind of wordless conversation before turning towards him with crossed arms and raised brows. 

“What is it?” Usopp’s voice was steady, but Sanji could see the nervousness in the way he fixed his hat over his hair, eyes darting around the students walking in and out of the entrance. 

“Well, it’s complicated, but the short version is that I talked to your mother, and she has a message for you.” 

There was only the wind blowing in Sanji’s ears as he watched confusion, surprise, astonishment, and then rage twist Usopp and Nami’s faces. Suddenly, a finger was pressed on Sanji’s chest, and he was forced to take two steps back while the fiery redhead got literally in his face with an angry scowl twisting her beautiful features. 

“This is not funny at all, Sanji. Who are you, and what the fuck do you want from Usopp?” 

Sanji raised his hands in a surrendered gesture, letting his bag fall from his shoulder and hang from his elbow as he calmly smiled at the two, despite the nerves twisting his guts. 

No matter how many times he repeated those words, approaching a person and saying that he could talk to the spirit of a loved one they had long lost would never be easy on his heart. Or guts. 

He locked eyes with the woman standing behind Usopp and nodded back at her, his blue irises fixed on the guy’s face, who was frozen with blinking wide eyes. 

“I know it sounds crazy, but I can talk to ghosts, and sometimes they need help to move on. I talked to your mother, Usopp, and Bianchina asked me to tell you that the answer is every day.”  

Nami’s face turned from angry to confused as she looked over her shoulder to glance at Usopp. His face was pale and his wide eyes were fixed on Sanji, full of surprise and fear.

“What are you talking about?” Nami’s voice was barely a whisper, her brown eyes turning to Sanji’s seemingly relaxed face. 

Sanji looked at her for a second with a small smile before concentrating once more on Usopp’s astonished expression. He seemed confused and lost, lips opening and closing as he tried to think about what to say. 

“She told me that you used to visit her often, and you still do whenever you have enough time. She said you always ask her the same question over and over again, and she says that the answer is every day.”

Nami turned her head again to stare at Usopp’s pale face, her mouth opening and closing quickly as she noticed tears starting to stream down his cheeks. Sparing a brief perplexed glance at Sanji, the girl moved to stand at her friend’s side, one arm circling his shoulders while the other hand gently stroked his arm as he sobbed uncontrollably. 

"Maybe we should talk about it somewhere more...quiet.” Sanji moved his gaze from the crying guy to the redhead, who was glancing around at the people walking by and staring at the weird spectacle. 

Usopp nodded at the suggestion and mumbled something Sanji could not hear as he fixed the bag on his shoulder and started following the two towards a cafe called the Thousands Sunny.

He hoped the coffee was strong enough to get through the afternoon and the talk they were about to have. 

-

“So, uhm...what...” Usopp sighed and kept drumming his fingers on the side of his half-empty cup of tea. 

Sanji took a sip of his coffee and then caught Nami’s gaze, her eyebrows raised as she inclined her head towards Usopp. He looked at her in confusion, wondering what else he could say to make the guy more comfortable. 

They had already spent the better part of an hour exchanging pleasantries and talking about their majors before discussing Sanji’s ability to interact with ghosts as they carefully glided over the whole ‘I can see your deceased mother’ affair. 

While he broadly explained about spirits and the afterlife, Sanji was taken aback by the curiosity Nami had shown with her questions. On the other hand, Usopp kept avoiding Sanji’s eyes, and on more than one occasion, he seemed ready to whip out a bible and a cross and probably look up where and how he could get an exorcist. 

Sanji hoped he didn’t know any weird priests or exorcists. He really didn’t want to experience that again. 

However, it was unexpectedly hard moving from the general ‘I can see ghosts’ to the more particular ‘I can see your mom, and she wants to talk to you’  discourse.  

Sanji took another sip of his coffee and glanced at Bianchina, who was sitting in the booth next to him, her eyes glued to her son’s face. He decided to give in to his curiosity and propped his chin on his open palm, gaze focused on Usopp’s nervous expression while he stared with interest at the contents of his cup. 

“What did you ask her?” 

“What?” Both Usopp and Bianchina looked at him, their voices overlapping and their expressions uncannily similar, with that singular raised brow and big, dark eyes full of confusion. 

Sanji moved his gaze from the guy to the woman and then back to Usopp’s face, a smile tugging at his lips. 

“Your mom told me you kept asking her the same question every day, but she never told me what the question was, only the answer.” Usopp’s eyes flashed in recognition, and he smiled while looking back down at his drink. 

“If she was proud.” Usopp’s voice was barely a whisper, and he cleared his throat before looking up at Sanji with a teary smile, “I kept asking her if she was proud of me.” 

“Oh, Usopp.” He looked at Nami as she put a hand on Usopp’s shoulder to try to comfort him. 

“Could you...” Sanji glanced at the woman, eyes once again fixed on her son’s wet face, “Can you please tell him again that I am proud of him? Every single day.” 

“She wants you to know that she’s proud of you. Every single day, she said.” Usopp’s eyes snapped up at him, surprised and full of tears. 

“Is she really saying that?” Usopp asked in a whisper, drying his eyes with the back of his hand, “I mean, she was...she passed before-” 

“Before you finished high school and found out you got accepted at New World University.” Sanji cut him off, taking another sip of his coffee before smiling at Nami and Usopp’s surprised expressions, “She’s been watching you for a while. She saw everything that happened since she passed.” 

“This is real, then. You talked to her for real.” Usopp’s hands were clearly shaking as he wrapped them around the cup, eyes fixed on Sanji’s face. 

“Yeah. And she’s here now.” Sanji turned to his right, smiling at Bianchina, while Nami and Usopp looked at the seemingly empty space. They shared a confused glance while her hand kept rubbing circles on Usopp’s back. 

“She was worried about you being alone.” Sanji continued, attracting their attention, “After the years spent taking care of her while she was ill, she was worried about how you would react to her passing. She said that she’s happy you’ve got good friends by your side.” 

Sanji smiled at Nami and the girl’s eyes widened, a blush spreading on her cheeks as she nodded and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. Usopp took a few deep breaths, trying to stop himself from crumbling into a pile of sobs and tears while he glanced at Sanji with a shaky smile. 

“Can you tell her-” 

“She can hear you.” Sanji interrupted swiftly, tone steady and gentle, “I’m the only one who can see and hear spirits, but the spirits can see and hear us. You can talk to her, and I will repeat what she says.” 

Usopp nodded and glanced at the cup in his hands before looking straight at the empty air in front of him with a deep breath. He tried to picture his mother’s face, his mind conjuring a memory of her gentle smile and bright eyes from a time before the illness consumed her body. Before it took her away from him.

It seemed like a lifetime ago. 

“I miss you so much, mom, and I’m sorry I made you worry. I’m doing better, and I...I guess you know I have friends who help me during the bad times.” Usopp glanced at Nami, and the two shared a quick smile, “I’m happy now, and I’m studying hard to become an engineer like I always dreamed.” 

“I’m proud of you, and I always knew you would reach whatever goal you wanted.” Sanji repeated Bianchina’s words, trying to hold back his own emotions as he looked from the crying mother to the crying son. It was like watching a reflection reverberate in a mirror distorted by time and age and death.

“I’m happy to know that you’re not in pain anymore, mom. And I’m sorry about dad. I know... I knew he wouldn’t come, but I tried anyway, and even if he didn’t come or answer, it doesn’t matter anymore.” Usopp’s lip trembled, and he lowered his gaze, using the sleeve of his sweater to dry the tears from his cheeks. “I don’t need him to come back. I’m good.” 

“Oh, my boy. So strong.” Bianchina raised her hand and gently caressed Usopp’s cheek. 

Sanji smiled when Usopp whipped his head up to stare at the empty air, face open in surprise while he raised his arm, fingers hovering over his mother’s hand. 

“Did she just...” 

“Yes.” Sanji nodded with a smile, clearing his throat before continuing, “Sometimes spirits can interact with objects and people. Her hand is on your cheek now.” 

Tears started to fall again from Usopp’s eyes as he leaned into the touch, basking in a feeling he had thought forever forgotten—a memory he’d never savour again. 

Sanji blinked, and Bianchina was suddenly next to the table, her attention caught by something behind the counter. She glanced at him over her shoulder, wide eyes sparkling in surprise and awe. 

“Do you see that?” She raised her arm and pointed at the counter. 

Sanji shook his head with a smile, “No, only you can see it. But I’ve been told it’s beautiful.” 

“It really is.” She turned again, and Sanji noticed a golden halo appearing around her figure. 

“What’s going on?” Sanji glanced at Nami, shaking his head with a small smile and holding a hand up, quickly turning his attention back to the spirit. 

Only one more step, and she would finally be at peace. Another soul saved from the shadow and safely guided to the heaven where she belonged. 

“It’s time, and whatever you’re seeing right now, it’s yours.” Bianchina turned slightly to look at him in confusion, but Sanji smiled and continued with a calm tone, “Some told me it’s a door while others see only a bright light. One time, a guy who loved surfing told me he could see the ocean. Stepping into the Beyond is unique for everyone, and whatever you’re seeing now is your portal to the other side.” 

Bianchina nodded and turned to stare at whatever paradise was awaiting her soul. 

“I can see the old house I grew up in. The hills are so green...” Sanji nodded and took a deep breath as the woman turned around to glance once more at her son. 

She leaned forward and gently ran the back of her knuckles down his cheek. Usopp closed his eyes and unconsciously tilted his head towards the touch, probably trying to commit to memory the sensation of that gentle caress. 

“When I’m gone, tell him that I am proud of my little Pinocchio. He’ll understand.” Sanji nodded at Bianchina’s request, and she smiled before turning around and walking away. 

Sanji watched her walk through the counter. The golden halo surrounding her slowly enveloped her figure, and she slowly started fading like an old picture damaged by the sunlight. He blinked, and she was suddenly gone. 

He took a deep, shaky breath and quickly caught a stray tear running down his cheek, silently chastising himself for not being able to remain detached despite the number of times he had seen spirits break down and then step into the Beyond. 

“What happened?” Sanji blinked and smiled at Nami and Usopp’s confused expressions. 

“She's gone. She was at peace after finally being able to talk to you, and she moved on into the Beyond. She said she saw her childhood house and green hills.” 

Usopp smiled and nodded, taking a long, deep breath and licking his lips before looking at him with a small, watery smile. “It must be the small village where she was born. She loved telling me stories of when she was young and lived there.” 

“She also told me that she's proud of her little Pinocchio. She said you’d understand.” Sanji was taken aback by the chuckle that fell from Usopp’s lips, tears running down his cheeks as he looked at his cold tea with a longing expression. 

“When I was little, I used to tell a lot of lies, and she told me that my nose was getting longer because of that. She would call me little Pinocchio every time I tried to lie to her.” Usopp’s eyes were shining with tears, but he smiled when he looked up at Sanji. “Even when she knew I was lying, she would never get mad. She always laughed.” 

“She sounds like an amazing mother.” Sanji smiled, and Usopp nodded at his words before rubbing his eyes with both hands. Suddenly, he took a deep breath, finished his tea in one single gulp, and stood up from the booth. 

“Thank you for doing this. I-I don’t know what to say.” Nami quickly stood up next to Usopp and smiled at him. 

“No need. This is what I do.” Sanji waved a hand and looked down at the remnants of his cold coffee. 

He knew that after Bianchina moved on, Nami and Usopp would leave and probably try to forget meeting him and finding out about the weird world of ghosts and seers. Sometimes Sanji couldn’t help but wonder if there was an aura of death around him that scared people away, making him look like a freak—an undesirable and unlovable human being. 

When they were talking and chatting about their lives, for a few moments Sanji found himself imagining they were three normal students sharing stories over a coffee for the simple desire of getting to know each other. A simple friendship blossoming in a quaint little café. 

But nothing was ever simple in his life, and despite his need and desire to share this secret and all the burden that came with it, Sanji knew no one would ever choose to be his friend. Maybe he was destined to be alone. 

“It’s getting late. Do you wanna get dinner with us?” Sanji snapped his head up and stared at Nami, who was looking at the watch on her wrist before smiling at him with gentle eyes. 

Usopp nodded at her words and pointed with his thumb over his shoulder, “There’s an Italian place not far from here, and we could chat some more over a good pizza. Or pasta, if you prefer.”

Sanji smiled, downed the rest of his coffee, and shot out of his seat to follow them while they chatted and talked. Like normal students who were getting to know each other. 

* 

* 

“Your crush died?!” Nami shrieks, hands wrapped around her coffee cup and eyes wide in astonishment. 

“I told you many times that he’s not my crush.” Sanji hisses between gritted teeth, feeling his cheeks heat up. “And would you mind lowering your voice, my dear?” 

Usopp’s eyes are almost bulging as he hits his chest while coughing. His coffee seems to have taken a detour down his windpipe when Sanji told them the identity of the ghost he saw in class. 

They are at the Thousand Sunny, sitting at their usual booth with cups of hot, delicious coffee in front of them. Since the very first time they met, the place has been their safe heaven, a perfect spot to meet and chat before, between, and after lessons to discuss spirits and annoying professors. 

“So...Zoro died?” Usopp says confused before clearing his throat. 

“Zoro? That’s his name?” Nami asks with a curious glint shimmering in her eyes as she turns to look at Usopp, “And why do you know his name?” 

“You remember Franky? He owns this place with his fiancée, but he’s also studying engineering on the side.” Usopp asks her, waiting for her nod before continuing. 

“Wait, isn't Franky the one that made his own garage explode?” Sanji wonders aloud, brows furrowed and arms crossed. 

“Yeah, yeah.” Usopp dismisses him quickly with a waving hand, “He was testing a prototype for a super heater or whatever. Anyway, he knows a guy who knows a girl who knows another girl who’s friends with Ace, Luffy’s brother.” 

Nami and Sanji share a confused look before turning to Usopp with raised brows and matching bewhildered expressions. Usopp sighs, takes a sip of his coffee, and smacks his lips loudly before explaining, “Luffy’s the guy who always goes around with that weird straw hat.” 

Sanji’s eyes widen in recognition, and Nami lets out a surprised ‘oooooh’ before punching Usopp’s shoulder. 

“Hey, wha-” 

“You could’ve said that sooner without acting all-knowing and mighty.” The girl hisses angrily. 

Usopp rubs his shoulder and murmurs something about reporting violent friends to the police. When Nami glares at him, he apologises and goes back to loudly sip his coffee. 

“So that’s how you know that his name is Zoro?” Sanji tries to bring the conversation back on track, smiling at his friends’ antics. 

“Yeah. Remember that rumour that was going around awhile ago about an accident involving some students? Franky told me this morning that he heard it probably involved Ace, Luffy, and Zoro. Apparently, the three of them always go everywhere together.” Usopp answers before taking another sip. 

“It was an accident then.” Sanji mumbles low, looking down at the contents of his cup.  

In his experience, an unexpected and violent death always results in a confused and amnesiac ghost. Those are always the hardest to deal with because it usually takes them some time to remember their own demise, and only after their memory is restored can they remember what is holding them back from reaching the Beyond. 

Sanji grimaces when he thinks back at that weird guy who vanished immediately after remembering that his brother had not cut his arm off, but it had been an accident caused by a faulty power saw.  

Seeing his mangled body appear in the middle of the street while he waited for the bus had not been a nice good morning for a thirteen-year-old seer. He had doubled over and emptied his stomach in the nearest trashcan. 

“They’re here!” Sanji blinks out of his daze and follows Nami’s gaze to the entrance door. 

Straw Hat—Luffy is walking backwards while talking with the black-haired guy Sanji has seen earlier. Behind them, the one with the blond hair is slowly entering the cafe and shaking his head with a smile on his face. 

Sanji’s eyes widen when he spots Zoro literally passing through the door before stopping to look down at his own hands, his features scrunched in confusion. When he lifts his head, his eyes lock with Sanji's, and recognition shines clear on his face. 

“Shit. Fucking shit.” Sanji slids down his seat, pinching the bridge of his nose before pushing his thumb and index finger against his closed eyelids. 

“Are you okay?” Nami’s eyes are full of concern when Sanji finally looks at her, but his answer is cut short by a new voice that makes his breath hitch. 

“Hey, curly.” Zoro is suddenly sitting next to him, right in front of Usopp, “I need your help.” 

These are the moments when Sanji really hates his life. 

“What do you want?” Sanji hisses at the newcomer, irritated by the stupid nickname, “And my name’s Sanji. Now that you know it, use it.” 

“I'm Zoro, nice to meet you. Now I need your help to talk to my friends.” Zoro’s tone is hurried, and he jerks his head to point at the three men who are standing in line to order. 

“Zoro?” Nami says with a questioning tone, brows raising when she looks at the empty seat next to Sanji. 

The ghost turns to look at her and then stares at Usopp’s wary expression, studying their faces as their gazes keep jumping from Sanji’s face to his. 

“You two can see me too?” Zoro asks, voice laced with a hint of hope. 

“No, they only know that you're here and that I can see you.” Sanji whispers while looking straight at Nami with a forced smile. 

“Hey, if we’re gonna have a conversation, you could at least look at me.” There’s a crease between Zoro’s eyebrows when Sanji glances at him from the corner of his eye. 

“And let people think I'm talking to the air? I’m not a fan of being thrown out of places while being called crazy, so I try to do that as little as possible.” Sarcasm clear in his voice, Sanji shakes his head before taking a sip of his coffee. 

“Whatever. Can you make yourself useful and talk to my friends? I need to understand what the fuck is going on.” Zoro’s voice is laced with irritation, and Usopp tightens the grip around his coffee when it vibrates between his fingers. 

“Whoa. What was that?” Usopp moves his hands away from his cup and raises his eyes from the drink to Sanji’s annoyed face.

“This moron clearly doesn’t know how to control his energy.” Sanji turns to look at Zoro, who stares back at him with confused irritation, “Try to stay calm, you idiot, or you’ll make something explode.” 

“What the fuck are you talking about?” Zoro waves a hand, and Usopp’s coffee slides dangerously close to the edge of the table. The ghost blinks at the cup before glancing at his own palm.  

“That is what I’m talking about. Not all stories about haunted houses are fake, and you gotta calm down before your anger makes a mess, idiot mosshead-brain.” Sanji hisses at the spirit, ignoring the weird glances some people throw his way from nearby tables. 

“Sanji, I think you should also calm down and maybe lower your voice.” Nami tries to put a hand on Sanji’s forearm, but he shrugs her off and lifts a finger in front of Zoro’s face. 

“I’m not gonna walk up to some people I never met before and tell them that I can see the spirit of their dead friend, who didn’t even know he was dead until this morning. So be a good Mosshead and sit here until you-” 

“What the fuck do you mean sit here? I only want you idiot to get your ass up there and talk with my friends so I can at least know why I died.” Zoro hits the table with a closed fist, and Usopp tightens the hold around his coffee cup. It feels like trying to restrain a small wild animal that desperately wants to run away. A boiling, hot wild animal. 

“H-He’s not calm, is he?” Usopp’s words fall on deaf ears as Sanji pinches the bridge of his nose while taking a deep breath. 

“Let me get this clear. You don’t remember what happened to you, nor why or when it happened.” 

“Yeah.” 

“And you want me to go to your friends and risk getting punched in the face because you want to find out how you died.” 

“Yes!” 

“Well, I’m not gonna do that!” 

“Why not?!”

“Because you need to remember what happened to you by yourself! Learning what happened in a different way could block you from ever remembering! You’d become a shadow!"

“You should really lower your voice.” Nami hisses between clenched teeth, glancing around at the customers that turn their heads and stop in their tracks to stare at the guy talking to the empty seat, “He’s…wearing earphones?” 

“You’re just talking nonsense! Isn’t the whole point of you seeing ghosts going around bothering people to help the dead or whatever you weirdo do in your free time?” Sanji’s eyes widen at the insult, wondering how he could have ever found such a mannerless and brutish man attractive. 

“Y-Yeah, earphones. Bluetooth, you know…” Usopp stammers while looking apologetically at the people sitting in the booth behind Sanji, “He’s a-an acting major. He’s reviewing a script.” 

“I’m not gonna do anything of the sort, you stupid algae. We have to understand what’s going on first, and only then, if needed, I’ll tell them about you being here. End of discussion.” Sanji waves his index finger in front of Zoro’s face. 

Zoro opens his mouth to answer, and they are almost nose to nose as they stare angrily at each other, “You stu-” 

“They left.” Nami’s voice cuts him off, and Sanji whips his head towards her. He glances at Zoro’s surprised face as he looks around the café to locate his friends. 

“They got some drinks to go and left.” Usopp explains quickly, hands tightening on his quivering cup. 

The confusion on the ghost’s face quickly turns into anger as he looks down at his clenched fists resting on the wooden surface. The whole table starts shaking, and Sanji looks at Usopp and Nami as they tighten their grip on the cups as the coffee slushes inside like small waves in a badly contained storm. 

“Sanji what-“ 

“You fucking idiot!” Zoro’s voice booms in Sanji’s ears and echoes in his head as he closes his eyes at the sudden wave of energy. It’s like being punched and slapped and pushed on the ground all at the same time, every cell of his body tingling while his brain rattles inside his skull. 

It takes him a moment to regain his bearings. When he finally manages to open his eyes, his ears are ringing, and the world is spinning around.

Raising his arms in disbelief, Sanji looks down at his drenched shirt while coffee drips down his chin onto his stained pants.  

When he glances at his friends, he notices Nami and Usopp’s wide eyes, the former with a hand covering her gaping mouth and the latter glancing back and forth between the empty cup in his hands and Sanji’s drenched figure. 

“Is this…a normal occurrence with spirits?” Nami whispers low. Her words seem to echo in the silence surrounding them, and Usopp suddenly notices the many people watching the scene with befuddled expressions. 

“It’s just...part of the drama. We are…we gotta make it as real as possible.” Usopp chuckles in the silent room. 

After some confused blinks, most of the patrons shrug and go back to their conversations, while a few keep staring at them with confused or amused expressions, giggling and chuckling.  

“That fucking moron.” Sanji hisses, a hand pushing his wet hair away from his eyes.

“What happened?” Usopp gets up and quickly grabs a bunch of tissues from the counter, uslessly trying to clean the table while glancing at the empty seat in front of him. 

“He’s not here anymore. He got angry and used all his energy for this fucking stunt.” Sanji says to no one in particular, accepting some paper from Nami to clean his face, “And to answer your question, my dear, this is absolutely not normal. I’ve seen spirits use their energy to scare people and move objects, but he…he shouldn’t be able to do this.” 

“What do you mean?” There's a crease between Nami’s brows as she stares at Sanji’s pensive face. He can feel a headache start pounding behind his eyes, and he tries to put together his confused thoughts. 

“Something’s different about him.” Sanji glances at the three empty cups and then looks at the coffee splattered all over his clothes and on the table in front of him.  

Apparently, Zoro made the liquid literally erupt from the cups like lava from a volcano, inundating the surface and drenching Sanji from his head to his waist. Somehow, his legs and shoes are completely dry. 

When Sanji looks again at Nami and Usopp, he suddenly notices that neither of them has been hit by the hot liquid, and his eyes widen. Realisation suddenly hits him. 

“He directed it at me.” Sanji mumbles low, staring at the table. His hand slides down from the back of his neck, where he was trying to catch the coffee trickling from his hair. The tissues are now a soaked clump dissolving between his fingers. 

“What?” Usopp briefly glances at him while filling his empty cup with dirty tissues. 

“An outburst like this should be messy and uncontrolled, especially for a new ghost. But he…he was angry at me and somehow...he directed his outburst to me.” Sanji splayed his fingers on his chest, emphasising the word 'me'. 

“And that’s important because…” Nami raises an eyebrow and looks at Usopp, who simply shrugs, equally confused. 

“I don’t know. But something’s different about him. There's something wrong; I can feel it.” 

Chapter Text

When Sanji opened his eyes, it took him a while to understand where he was.  

He slowly blinked away the white spots from his vision. His tongue was heavy in his dry mouth, and when he tried to concentrate on his body, all he could feel was the pain radiating from his shoulders, the tingling sensation running down his legs, and the twisting ache inside his stomach. There was someone using a hammer on the inside of his skull, his eyes burning more and more with each blow.  

After the blood stopped rushing into his ears, he finally registered the voices. There were two men talking above him, but it was hard to understand what was being said between the pain making his mind go into overdrive and the ringing in his ears.  

When he tried to move his hand to rub his aching eye socket, he found that he couldn’t lower his arms, a stinging sensation burning his wrists. He tilted his head, eyes still slightly unfocused as he glanced at the ropes tied around his small wrists, arms secured to the bedposts.   

The ropes were thick and rough against his skin, already raw and red and burning. He tried to close his fists and found that he could barely feel his fingers, hands tingling and shoulders screaming in pain when he tried once more to pull against the restraints.  

Sanji tried to scoot up to alleviate the ache in his strained joints, but he winced in discomfort when more pain flared up from his ankles. Wriggling his toes, he noticed the same tingling sensation radiating from the soles of his feet. He took a deep breath, gulping down the little bit of saliva he had in his mouth and ignoring the awful sensation in his throat while he looked down to see his legs tied up in the same way his arms were. 

He was lying in the centre of a bare mattress, arms and legs splayed out and tied to the four bedposts by thick ropes that were burning his skin every time he tried to move. As he took a deep breath, he felt a shiver run up and down his skin, and that’s when he noticed the absence of clothes.  

For some reason, he was completely naked.  

His heart started hammering between his ribs, and he forced himself not to panic while he uselessly tried to twist his arm.  

Suddenly, a large hand grabbed his chin, and he stopped breathing, panic making him flail against his restraints in a desperate attempt to pull away from the strong hold. A blurred man filled his vision, and he blinked away the tears, panic swelling when he noticed he could not discern the stranger’s features.  

He tried once again to blink the fog away, but instead of a man's face, all he could see was a mask of skin, as if his eyes and nose and mouth had suddenly disappeared from his face.  

Sanji felt something cold being spread on his forehead, droplets slowly running down his skin. He heard a low voice whisper something in a foreign tongue, and the man retreated from his view. He turned his head, feeling the liquid dripping down his temple and into his hair as he uselessly wriggled against the ropes.  

“It’s time you prove yourself and fight this demon, boy.”  

“Fa-Father.” Sanji stopped writhing, and his voice came out in a rasp as his father’s face hovered over him.  

Any other boy would have been ecstatic to see their parent in such a frightening situation. They would have begged their father for help, asking to be freed from the bonds, taken away, and held securely in their arms, protected from the faceless monster.  

But Sanji knew better. He had learned early on that there was something different about his father. Something different about his family.  

He always found odd the prayers he was forced to recite every day, and he had stopped asking why they could not leave the large compound they lived in after the second round of beating he got for his curiosity. Sanji also stopped caring about why his brothers seemed unable to feel anything other than hatred and rage towards other living creatures, especially him, their favourite practice dummy.   

He knew that asking questions and not following the rules, as weird as they may have been, would only bring him trouble and pain, so he had always bent his head and prayed and never asked to go out again. 

Judge glanced over his shoulder and said something, addressing someone Sanji had not noticed in the dimly lit room. When the person stepped closer, all the boy could see was a silhouette, as if a shadow had escaped its owner and decided to live and move about as it wished.  

The shadow nodded at whatever his father was saying and then it moved to stand right next to the bed. Sanji started wriggling again, the pain in his limbs flaring and making him hiss between gritted teeth as his wrists started burning and bleeding under the ropes.  

Shadow fingers touched his arm, and only then did Sanji take notice of the needle already taped in the crook of his elbow. He stopped flailing, trying to regain control of his breathing while his heart hammered in his chest, fear constricting his guts as he uselessly tried to understand what was going on.  

Following with his eyes the tube attached to the needle, Sanji noticed it was connected to a plastic bag hanging from a pole, and he didn’t have time to ask what they were injecting him before the shadow moved away and disappeared. As if it had simply melted into the wall.  

“Soon you’ll be free of this demonic essence, and you’ll finally be your true self.” Judge’s voice was low, and Sanji was too tired to ask him what he was talking about—the pain radiating from every part of his body was too much for his tired, frail mind.  

“P-Please...” The boy whispered low, eyes trailed on the man as he stepped closer and looked at him with cold, scrutinising eyes.  

For a second, Sanji expected to be gently touched by his father. A caress on his sweaty hair or a kind, reassuring stroke down the side of his cheek. Nothing came, and he was more surprised by his wish than by the lack of affection.  

“Are you free of the demonic spirit, boy? Are you finally freed of the visions caused by the devil?” Sanji licked his dry lips and gulped again, unable to form words as he nodded at his father’s question.  

He didn’t know what he was talking about, and he didn’t know where they were or how long he’d been tied like that. All he knew was that he wanted to leave, and if lying would free him of the pain and get him out of this room, he would lie and give the man the answers he was seeking.  

Sanji took a deep, shaky breath and then turned his head to the side, neck hurting and eyes burning while he blinked away the tears. He noticed his sister standing on the other side of the bed, tears welling up in her blue eyes as she shook her head at him. She raised a trembling finger to her lips, fear twisting her features as she uselessly tried to shush him.   

“No, Sanji, don’t-”   

“R-Reiju...tell him.” He coughed, uselessly pulling at his bindings while tears streamed down his face, “I’m...I’m healed...like you!”   

“Sanji...I'm sorry...” His sister’s face was wet as she shook her head, one hand covering her quivering lips, “I didn’t get you out. I-I’m so sorry.”   

“I see you’re still in there, demon, and you’re trying to deceive me.” Sanji turned his head to see his father take a step back, nodding at the shadow that appeared once again next to the bed.   

“No, please, I-I-” Sanji tried again to pull his arms, the ropes burning his wrists and his joints screaming in pain.   

Sanji watched with laboured breath as the shadow approached him and started spreading a cold liquid on his skin. He shivered, uselessly trying to recoil from the unpleasant touch. His heart kept hammering between his ribs, and he wondered if the shadow could hear it pounding and trying to break from his ribcage.  

The shadow moved away, and when Sanji tilted his head to look down at his body, he noticed a few plastic squares glued to his chest and torso, with small cables connecting them to some kind of machine the shadow was working on.  

“Demon.” Sanji looked at his father, who had moved and was now standing next to Reiju.  

The girl looked up at him with wide, scared eyes and took a step back, unable to say or do anything other than cry while shaking her head. She put her hands over her ears and closed her eyes, and Sanji's breath hitched as he watched her take a step back and literally disappear into the wall. 

The weight of what was actually going on and the memories of the past few days spent in this room started resurfacing in Sanji’s tired mind. He started crying again, unable to stop the sobs from escaping his bloody lips, pleading his father to free him from the bonds and let him go.  

“Please...” Sanji’s voice came out in a low rasp, fear and hunger and fatigue making his head pound and his vision blur while tears streamed down his temples and into his matted hair.  

“Maybe this will make you finally leave this body and go back to hell.” Judge nodded towards the shadow who touched something on the small machine.  

For a long, eternal moment, all Sanji could register was white hot pain, electricity making his back arch painfully while every muscle of his body spasmed. He could taste blood, teeth locked around his tongue while his eyes rolled back as he started swimming in and out of consciousness.  

The pain stopped, and he tried to breathe through it, muscles twitching and spasming.  

“Again.” His father’s voice echoed along with his whimpers, and the pain came back once again.  

Sanji didn’t even try to stay awake.  

When Sanji opens his eyes, it takes him a long, frightening moment to understand where he is.  

The air around him is dark and cold, sweat making the back of his shirt cling to his skin as he shoots up on his bed. He pushes the covers off his body and plants his bare feet on the pavement, the cold seeping through his soles grounding his mind in the here and now.  

Free. Away. Alone. Safe.  

Slowly trying to regain control of his breathing, Sanji leans forward, elbows propped on his knees as he looks down at his shaky hands. He unconsciously rubs the inside of his left wrist, the scar nowhere to be seen despite the phantom pain seeping through his nightmare.   

“Fucking hell...” Sanji whispers to himself, running his hands through his hair, eyes closed as he tries to slow down his breath.   

It has been years since he had such a vivid dream, a memory buried somewhere in his mind, hidden alongside the rest of his childhood, resurfacing and plaguing his sleep.   

If there’s one positive aspect about being traumatised, it's the uncanny ability the brain has to erase such memories. Yet he knows they’re not lost, and sometimes Sanji still dreams about that cult and that crazy man he used to call father.  

And now, as his heart slows down and his breath evens out, he can feel the images slip away, nightmare turning to mist and getting blurrier the more he tries to remember the details.  

There was pain, a ghost, and something about a demon. Or maybe it was a shadow.  

“What the fuck was that?” Sanji whispers to himself as he digs the heels of his palms into his eye sockets to try and ease the pain flaring in his brain.  

After a few seconds, he takes a deep breath to steady himself and grabs his phone from the nightstand to look at the time. A groan leaves his lips when he sees that it’s way too early to be awake and way too late for his body to be able to get a good amount of sleep. He will have to do with four hours and a lot of coffee.  

The positive thing is that it’s his free day, and maybe he’ll be able to catch some rest in the afternoon, away from the shadows. Away from the silence of the night that aids the return of long-lost memories.  

He quickly gets up and walks to the window, moving the curtain to the side and gazing at the dark sky that’s slowly turning azure on the horizon. The sun is still nowhere to be seen, but there are no clouds and it sure looks like it will be a beautiful day.  

Deeming it useless to go back to bed and try to fall asleep, Sanji changes out of his sweaty pyjamas and, once comfortably dressed, makes his way out of the front door. Maybe a walk in the cold winter air will help his brain clear from the fog.  

If not, it will at least give his body a reason to be shivering.

*  

*  

He looks down at his wrist, unconsciously rubbing the skin for the umpteenth time, thumb pressing right where the scar used to be. If he squints hard enough, he can almost make out the shape that the ropes left on his flesh, the pain still seeping in his brain as he reminds himself that he left all of that in a past long gone.   

His ankles are not bleeding, he’s not starving, his shoulder is not dislocated, and he’s not being electrocuted within an inch of his life. Sanji is free, and he has to remind himself of that as he looks up at the sun, glowing and slowly rising above the treetops.   

The problem with his nightmares is that he is often unable to distinguish what parts stem from memories and which ones are made up by his imagination. And more often than not, the images fade from his mind before he can discern reality from fantasy.  

All he knows is that he used to live in a compound in the middle of nowhere with other families and children up until the day people from The Outside broke in. He was being tortured at the time and has no recollection of what happened until he woke up in a hospital bed, surrounded by doctors and beeping machines and social workers.   

When he was younger, he often dreamed of his mother and the day his father found out he had inherited that cursed gift. No one had bothered to tell him his mother had died, and he can still remember the happiness he felt upon seeing her up and about, so radiant and full of smiles, finally free from her illness.  

His brothers had walked in on him talking to her spirit and had immediately run to their father, and that’s when the little memories he has clash with the nightmares of doctors and ropes and pain. Sometimes he wonders if what he sees in his dreams is real, if Reiju was really there, and other times, when he uselessly tries to remember more of his past, he wonders if he really had a sister to begin with.  

Sanji takes a deep breath, shaking away those thoughts and half-memories as he fishes out a cigarette, gulping down a lungful of smoke while relaxing on the bench.  

The park is almost completely empty and blissfully silent. He can still see the old guy that came in a few minutes ago with his dog. He’s walking slowly while the dog runs back and forth as far as the leash will allow, yapping excitedly with a short wagging tail moving rapidly.  

“I haven’t seen you in a long time, young seer.”  

Sanji whips his head to the side, free hand clutching his chest as he tries to take a few deep breaths to calm his racing heart.   

“For fuck’s sake, Brook. I told you to stop doing that...Fuck.” Sanji slumps on the bench and tilts his head back, taking a drag of his cigarette as the man next to him laughs at his jumpiness.   

“I apologise for scaring you.”   

“Yeah, yeah. Whatever.” Sanji mumbles low and then looks back at the old man and his four-legged companion.   

The guy has unleashed the dog and is now throwing something that looks like a small branch. The dog uselessly tries to catch by leaping on his short legs before running after it and waddling back to the man with the branch held securely between his teeth.  

“I didn’t notice it was Crocus and Laboon.” Sanji sighs, leaning forward and propping his head on the palm of his hand, “How does he get up at this ungodly hour?”   

“It’s a difficult habit to get rid of.” Brook says in a whisper, eyes trailed on his friend, “Even after decades of being a civilian, he still lives like a marine.”   

Sanji tilts his head and looks at the man sitting next to him. As usual, he’s donned with his uniform, hair perfectly styled in an afro untouched by the wind as he comfortably sits on the bench with one leg over the other, arms crossed and a longing smile on his face.   

“Are you still convinced about not moving forward?” Sanji takes a drag of his cigarette and flicks the butt off, leaning back and immediately fishing out a new one.   

“The Beyond is not going anywhere. You know I’m waiting for him, and I honestly never thought it would take so long for that old coot to kick the bucket.” Sanji snorts as the cigarette comes to life, glancing at Brook’s smiling face.    

His eyes are fixed on his friend, who’s slowly getting up from his crouched position after petting the dog. Crocus’s hands are splayed on his lower back, and he looks pained as he tries to straighten his curved spine.  

“You’re really defying the laws of nature.” Brook hums in confusion at Sanji’s words, watching him slowly exhale a cloud of smoke.  

“What do you mean?” Brook watches him sit back and tilt his head, blue eyes trailed on the sky that is slowly turning lighter and lighter as the sun inches higher above the treetops.   

“I only have my family’s journals to guide me, and in one of them it’s explained how spirits that refuse to move on deteriorate in a fairly short amount of time until there is nothing left of them. They transform into a shadow that can either be corrupted by other entities or simply wither into...nothing.” Sanji runs a hand through his hair, looking at Brook up and down with curious eyes. "But you're still here."  

He still remembers the first time he saw the spirit. Crocus had walked into their restaurant, exchanging pleasantries with Zeff, while a very young Sanji stared with wide eyes at the tall soldier trailing behind the stranger.  

Despite the years, Brook’s ghost looks just as it did back then: tall, thin, and never transparent enough for the light to pass through his figure. His energy seems to never wane, and he’s still patiently waiting for the last one of his friends to pass on so they can finally rejoin their group in the Beyond.  

Sanji doesn’t know if something like that is even possible given that the passage is unique for each soul, but Brook had not been discouraged when he first heard the news. After decades of waiting, he's too stubborn to move on without his old best friend.  

“There are many things that do not follow the rules of the universe, young seer. I guess my spirit is stronger than time.” Brook chuckles low, and Sanji shakes his head before taking another drag and basking in the sensation of smoke filling his lungs.  

As he looks at Crocus throw once again the branch for his dog, Sanji suddenly remembers just how old Brook is, and he turns to the spirit, wondering if he can help him make sense of the events that took place the previous day.  

“Hey Brook. You’ve been around for a long time, right?” The spirit raises a brow and turns to look at him with a befuddled expression.  

“Since I died in the sixties. But you already know that, my friend.”   

“And you’ve seen a lot of things. Like...other spirits doing weird things, yeah?”   

Brook glances at Sanji’s face, finally taking notice of the pallor of his skin and the bag under his tired eyes. Even his blond hair seems dull and washed out in the dim light of the early morning.   

“Something odd has happened with a spirit?” Sanji nods and flicks away the remnants of his smoke, turning his whole attention to the man.   

“Yeah, kind of. A guy I used to see in some of my classes died, and I saw his ghost. But...there’s something off about him.”  

“Tell me everything. Maybe I can be of help.”  

Sanji tells Brook everything that had happened the previous day, from the first moment he saw Zoro’s spirit up until the unusual burst of energy that had him drenched in hot coffee. Brook chuckles when Sanji complains about his hair still smelling like coffee despite the three rounds of shampoo he had last night.  

“I’ll be honest, it took me years before I could muster enough energy to touch and move objects. What you described seems to be a very strong and extremely focused use of energy.”  

“That’s exactly what I thought. But he’s a really young ghost, and he shouldn’t have all this control.” Sanji rubs his face, feeling his stomach rumble. His head is starting to weigh on his shoulders, and tiredness is catching up on his body.  

“My best hypothesis is that he has a very strong connection to the living world. But I’ve never heard of a young ghost having such outbursts.” Brook says pensive, arms crossed as he looks up at the sky.   

“His anchor also gave me a weird feeling. I didn’t see him for long, but there’s something weird about the whole thing.”

"And you don't know how he died?"

"No, nothing at all. He didn't even know he was dead to begin with, so I guess it must've been really traumatic." Brook hums in acknowledgment, still lost in thought.  

After a few moments of silence, the spirit sighs and shakes his head before smiling sadly at the Sanji. “I’m sorry I cannot help. I believe you’ll have to discover for yourself what’s so unique about this Zoro.”   

Sanji runs a hand through his hair, watching Crocus put the harness on Laboon and slowly make his way towards the entrance gate.   

“It’s time for me to go, young man. What will you do during this fine day?” Brook asks him cheerfully, getting up from the bench and stretching his back.  

Sanji smiles up at him, still amused by Brook's attempt to act as if he’s not the spirit of a soldier who died more than half a century ago.  

“Just resting and doing some research about spirits with weird energy, I guess.” Sanji gets up and lifts his arms, stretching under the warm sunlight now shining high in the sky. “Tuesday’s my free day; no lessons and no work.”  

“Well, I hope you’ll find what you’re looking for. See you around, young seer.” Sanji waves at Brook, and when he blinks, he’s suddenly alone.   

Turning his head, he watches Crocus make his way out of the park, Laboon yapping excitedly at the spirit that has just appeared next to them. Sanji smiles as Crocus tries to calm the energetic animal, probably grumbling something about old dogs going senile.   

After standing for a few seconds under the warm sunlight, Sanji decides to head back home, get something in his stomach, and burrow his nose in the old diaries hidden somewhere in the back of his wardrobe.   

All he needs to do is stay awake and get tired enough for his mind to gift him a slumber devoid of dreams. Maybe he’ll also find some information that will ease the weird feeling twisting in his guts.  

**** 

July 1852   

Years pass since I took this profession, but before the sufferings of others, I continue to be utterly powerless. Many seek not only my assistance as a doctor but also in the role of visionary, and I am unable to refuse such requests. When medicine cannot succeed, I only wish to bring comfort to those who cannot let go of the dead.   

The case I am now recording is unique in its kind, and hopefully this will be of aid to future seers who encounter similar happenings.   

Lady Margaret Collins was a noble woman who affirmed she could converse with her deceased husband, Sir Robert Collins. He had died of pneumonia a few weeks before I was summoned for my services by Lady Collins’ daughter, Miss Elise, who wanted to ensure her mother had not become insane from grief.   

After travelling to the country, I visited the widow and took notice of the ghost of her husband appearing by her side everywhere she went. He was tethered to his wife, and to my astonishment, Lady Collins could indeed hear her late husband’s voice despite being unable to see his spiritual form.   

We conversed about their past, and Miss Elise was relieved yet shocked when I informed her that her mother was not insane. She assisted in another conversation we held in their dining room, after which, she wondered whether or not it was safe for her father’s spirit to linger in the mortal world.   

I admitted it was an unusual situation and explained that I had noticed the spirit being surrounded by a dark aura—Sir Collins was being attacked by a shadow that was corrupting the spirit’s essence. Therefore, we held another conversation, and with the help of his daughter and wife, we convinced Sir Collins it was time to move on. I watched him step into the Beyond and disappear after a heartfelt goodbye to his family.   

At the time of the investigation, I supposed that among Lady Collins’ ancestors there had been a seer or a witch, as no other reason could explain her ability to hear her husband’s spirit. However, my hypothesis was disproved by the sudden appearance of another spirit.   

Before my departure, there was an accident in town, and a woman working in the Collins’ manor suddenly died. I decided to delay my departure and aid the spirit in finding her way to the other side. Her presence was the key that disrupted my previous hypothesis, given that Lady Collins seemed unable to hear her voice or sense the woman's presence. 

Miss Elise also recounted tales of family members passing as the result of various diseases and incidents, and I agreed that it was not illogical to suppose some spirits had lingered in their household. The fact that Lady Collins has never been able to converse with a spirit or another presence before is proof of the fact that her abilities were peculiarly bound to her husband’s soul.   

Despite extensive readings, I was unable to find recordings of similar cases, and thus I am unable to explain Lady Collins’ ability.   

Sanji sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose as he stifles a yawn behind the palm of his hand. He raises his arms and stretches in his chair as he glances at his phone, noticing the late hour before eyeing the pile of diaries he still has to read.  

He sighs again, closing the small, dusty notebook before grabbing another one, careful with the old and delicate pages. This journal looks like it was salvaged from a flood or another disaster involving water: some words are smudged, and the pages are rigid and covered in splotches as if someone tried and failed to dry them before the words could be washed away and lost forever.  

Despite the years, Sanji still doesn’t remember how or why the bag full of notebooks was with him when he was taken away by the social services. All he knows is that he woke up in a hospital with a bag of clothes and another duffle bag full of journals. His mind jumbled as the social workers argued with the doctors while he had a panic attack.  

Among the foggy memories Sanji has of his biological family, there are reminiscences of days spent sitting with his mother while she recounted stories of their ancestors. He remembers that she would let him pick a diary from her collection, and they would choose a random page. Then Sora would tell him a story of ghosts and seers before kissing him goodnight.  

Other children's bedtime routines consisted of fairy tales about dragons and knights and princess, while Sanji was fed prayers and ghost stories.

He shakes his head, chuckles at the thought, and then yawns again. The memories slip away as he opens the journal and starts scanning the damaged pages. Taking a deep breath and trying to shake away such unpleasant recollections, Sanji wills his mind to concentrate on the smudged words, eyes heavy with sleep.   

May 1943   

In case this notebook is found by the wrong people, I will not use any names to write about the case I am recording. I will use the letters B and N to talk about the two women I met and their inexplicable case.   

B and N met a few years before the war, when B and her husband moved into this small town (I will not write the name for safety reasons). The two women lived next to one another, and they quickly became close friends bonding over mutual interests.   

When their husbands left for the war, the two women started spending more time in each other’s company until their friendship developed into an adulterous relationship.   

At the time B was a nurse at the local hospital and contracted polio from a patient. N nursed her until-  

The page was filled with stains, and the ink seemed to have literally melted away, creating lines of misshapen circles and splotches.  

“I guess she died here.” Sanji mumbles to himself, uselessly trying to decipher the ruined phrases.  

I heard rumours of polio causing numerous fatalities in this area so I decided to reach the countryside and see if I could help as a nurse or as a medium, directing lost souls into the Beyond.   

I was walking towards the nearest hospital when I encountered N for the first time. She was seemingly talking to herself, and I thought she was one of those women who had lost their sanity due to the war. I had seen many people lose their minds because of the stress caused by loss or the inability to feed their families.   

However, when I approached N with the intention of escorting her to the nearest medical office, I could find no trace of madness in her gaze or words. She recounted her story, and I understood that she was talking to the spirit of her lover, even if she-   

“Jesus, I didn’t remember this diary was so damaged.” Sanji sighs and turns the page, trying to make sense of what he’s reading.  

I was unable to see or hear the spirit, but I did witness the woman’s energy as she interacted with objects and moved them around to prove her presence. The strength and control she had were extremely surprising given that B had been a ghost for less than a month.   

After extensive readings, I could not find any records of similar cases. Additionally to that, I was unable to see or interact with B, and it seemed that N was the only one who could see and communicate with her.   

After different tests and hours spent talking with the two women, I can only conclude that the reason behind N's capabilities was that they-   

“Oh, come on.” Sanji turns to read the last page, but half of the words are missing and replaced by splotches of dried dirt.  

Huffing, Sanji grabs the next journal and notices that the first entry dates to 1989. He quickly skims through the stack of small books he has yet to read, but they're all been written in different decades and there is no trace of a similar handwriting.  

“I finally found something useful, and the only journal is ruined. Just my luck.” Sanji mumbles to himself before yawning into his hand.  

Glancing at the phone, he sighs and yawns again, eyes burning as he rubs them with the heels of his hands while stifling another yawn.  

He glares at the few journals left and then shakes his pounding head, deciding to listen to his body and get some rest. Maybe after the whole day spent bent over his desk to study and research about ghosts, his mind will shut down and grant him a few hours of dreamless sleep.  

After all, he has lesson tomorrow, and something tells him that this week is going to be anything but relaxing.  

Chapter Text

“I’m Ace, nice to meet you.” 

The unexpected voice makes Sanji jump and quickly turn around, eyes falling on a gentle face full of freckles and a pair of dark eyes framed by a few strands of black hair.

The guy is smiling, but Sanji feels like there is something odd in his expression. As if his eyes do not quite shine with the happiness that such a bright smile should convey. 

Sanji looks down and takes notice of the extended arm. He moves the cigarette from his right to his left hand, absently shaking Ace’s hand as he tries to remember where he had seen his freckled face before. 

Ace blinks at him and then raises his eyebrows, smile widening with badly hidden mirth, as if he’s waiting for Sanji to answer a question he has yet to ask. After a few seconds, Sanji can feel the blush spreading on his face. 

“Sanji.” He clears his throat, releasing Ace’s hand, “My name’s Sanji.” 

Ace nods and hums, not even trying to hide the way his eyes roam up and down Sanji’s figure. Sanji takes a drag of his cigarette, gaze wandering on the students going in and out of the building. 

“Are you interested in my little brother, Sanji?” Sanji’s eyes widen, and he coughs, one hand hitting his chest as he tries to regain control of his burning breath.  

“W-What?” He asks between one cough and a wheezy exhale, drying some tears from the corner of his eye.  

“Luffy, my little brother. Around this tall, black hair, with a scar under his eye. He always wears a straw hat.”  

As Ace keeps waving his hands around, something clicks in Sanji’s brain, and his breath hitches as he finally recognises the black-haired guy. Usopp had even told Sanji the guy’s name and he had totally forgotten about it.  

“I saw you staring at him the other day, and wanted to know your deal.” Ace explains calmly while crossing his arms over his chest.  

Despite the placid expression and his friendly tone, Sanji can feel the wariness hidden in his words. Yet he cannot understand where all that hostility is coming from.  

“My deal?” Sanji echoes, confused.  

Ace doesn’t answer, simply raising a brow and fixing Sanji with an expectant look. Sanji looks at his withering cigarette and inhales deeply, buying himself time to think something different from ‘ I saw your dead friend, and he’s hunting your brother. Oh, sorry about your loss’.  

“I...” Sanji exhales, throwing the butt in the bin next to him before turning again and giving Ace a sad smile. “A friend told me something happened to Zoro?” 

The statement sounds more like a question and Sanji watches Ace straighten his back, muscles suddenly rigid as he gulps down and averts his gaze. He looks taken aback and slightly scared by Sanji’s words. 

“I see.” Ace says in a whisper, running a hand through his tussled hair. 

“I’ve never actually talked to him or Luffy. I just noticed their absence and yesterday Luffy was...distracted.” Sanji says slowly, watching Ace nod at his words, eyes lost somewhere over his shoulder. 

After a few seconds, Ace blinks and focuses his attention on Sanji’s face, a sad smile bending his lips, “He’s not even a student, but he insists on coming.” 

 Sanji cocks his head, brows furrowed in confusion, “What do you mean?” 

Ace’s smile widens and for the first time there is a glint of mirth in his dark eyes. He puts his hands in the pocket of his jeans, head tilted back to stare at the building behind Sanji. 

“Luffy’s currently taking a gap year and when Zoro transferred here, he decided to attend lesson with him to, and I quote, see why people like listening to geezers talk for hours and hours.” Ache chuckles and Sanji smiles at the happiness shining on his face. 

“But if Zoro’s not coming, why is he still attending lesson?”  He asks curiously.  

“I honestly don’t know.” Ace shrugs, rubbing the back of his neck, “I guess going back to his routine makes him feel like he’s closer to Zoro or something.” 

Ace bites his lip, clearly unsure of his own explanation before shaking his head and staring at the ground. Sanji chooses not to press, wondering if asking more about Zoro could make the guy shut down and shy away from his insensitive prodding. 

After a few seconds of silence, Ace raises his gaze with a thoughtful expression, head tilted, and eyebrows furrowed as he stares at Sanji’s face. 

“Would you mind befriending my brother?” Sanji blinks, waiting for the guy to explain the nature of his odd request. 

“Eh?” Ace shrugs at Sanji’s confusion, a pink hue dusting his cheeks as he looks once more at the ground beneath his feet. 

“I don’t know why he keeps coming and I’m worried about him so...maybe, having someone else talking to him and distracting him...” Ace sighs and shrugs again, “Never mind, that was a stupid idea.” 

“Can’t he, like…come to lesson with you?” Sanji asks tentatively. 

“Oh, no. I don’t study here either.” At Sanji’s raised brow, Ace waves a hand towards the building, “Studying was not my thing, so I finished high school and trained to be a firefighter. I’m pretty happy with my choice.” 

“I see.” Sanji mumbles under his breath, wondering if repulsion towards academic institutions could be genetic. 

“Our brother Sabo is the only one with a knack for these things.” Sanji nods, briefly considering the possibility of Ace being a mind reader, “But he’s studying something like international politics, and Luffy fell asleep after the first ten minutes when he tagged along.”  

Sanji tries to think about something to say, his hand itching to reach into his pocket and get another cigarette. Ace opens his mouth to say something, but he suddenly disappears behind a blur of red and blue that almost sends him tumbling to the ground 

Ace chuckles as Luffy jumps down from the embrace and runs around him to cling to his back, arms chocking Ace and legs wrapped around his hips. Sanji watches in astonishment as the man wriggles free from the chokehold with an easiness that can only be the result of experience. 

“Luffy! I thought you were already in class!” 

“I remembered that I forgot to tell you to have a good day. So, I came back outside to see if you were still here.” The boy smiles, fixing the straw hat on his tussled hair. 

As he watches the exchange with a smile, Sanji suddenly feels a cold shiver run down his spine and looks away from the two brothers, eyes meeting grey when he spots Zoro standing right next to Luffy.  

The ghost has an irritated scowl, arms crossed as he looks up and down Sanji’s figure. When he opens his mouth to talk, Luffy steps right in between them, big brown eyes staring at Sanji with a curious, amused glint.  

“You’re curly guy!” He smiles and Sanji blinks at him in confusion. 

“I’m what?” Sanji looks over Luffy’s shoulder, confusion deepening when he notices Zoro averting his gaze with an embarrassed expression twisting his feature. 

He briefly wonders if the light is playing tricks on his vision or if the ghost is really blushing while scratching the back of his neck.  

“Luffy, this is Sanji.” Ace puts a hand on Sanji’s shoulder, smiling at him before turning to his brother, “I literally bumped into him on my way out. I didn’t know you had class together.” 

“Oh, yes. Accounting with Professor Rayleigh.” Luffy smiles, holding out his hand, “I’m Luffy, nice to meet you!” 

“Yeah, nice to meet you too.” Sanji says with a smile, glancing at Zoro, who’s watching the exchange with a serious expression on his face. 

“Well. You two should probably get going or you’re gonna be late for class.” Ace squeezes Luffy’s shoulder before smiling at Sanji, “See you around, blondie!” 

Ace walks away, turning around after a few steps to wave at them with a wide smile. Sanji watches Luffy return the gesture with a bright chuckle. As soon as Ace turns around, Sanji watches Luffy’s smile disappear, his brown eyes following Ace until he disappears down the street.  

After a few seconds of silence, Sanji steps closer to the brooding boy and bumps his shoulder against Luffy’s. The guy blinks, as if waking from a trance, and turns his head to smile at Sanji. A bright open smile that does not quite reach his eyes, just like Ace’s. 

“We should go, or we’re gonna be late.” 

“Race you to class?” Before Sanji can even register the words, Luffy sprints up the stairs and disappears inside the building. Sanji shakes his head, fixes the bag over his shoulder, and slowly makes his way up. 

“Sanji?” He blinks, looking up at Zoro who’s suddenly standing in front of him. Sanji sighs and walks around him, making his way up before the man appears by his side. 

“About the other day, I really...I don’t...” Zoro seems at a loss of words as he walks alongside him. 

Sanji stops in the middle of the empty corridor and looks at the spirit, his grey eyes fixed on the marble ground, lip held between his teeth as he desperately tries to find the right words to express what he’s feeling. Probably guilt and regret for what happened in the café. If he can even remember what happened when he disappeared. 

“It’s alright.” Sanji says with a sigh, watching Zoro’s expression twist in surprise, “It’s pretty normal to lose control and we got a lot of work to do for you to regain your memory.” 

“We?” Zoro asks in a whisper. 

Holding back a smile at the adorable expression on the spirit’s face, Sanji nods and then looks at something over Zoro’s shoulder. 

“Yes, I’ll help you. But we’ll talk later, now I really have a lesson to attend.” Zoro nods and then watches Sanji walk towards the class. 

“Sanji.” Sanji stops, turning his head to glance at Zoro over his shoulder, “Thank you.” 

Sanji knows he should walk away from this.  

He should listen to the tugging sensation in his stomach, leave the building, and ignore this weird spirit that makes him feel like a shrapnel caught in a magnetic field. He’s helplessly attracted to this weird powerful spirit by a curiosity that he should repress and ignore in favour of logic. 

But all Sanji can think about is the itch in his brain that he wants to scratch, so, for the first time in his life, he ignores his instinct and lets his curiosity take over. He doesn’t walk away but smiles at the ghost who’s still looking at him with a bashful expression and bright grey eyes. 

“Don’t thank me. Not yet.” 

Zoro nods with a confused look and Sanji leaves him there, alone in the empty hallways.  

**** 

“So, what the hell is going on?”  

Sanji sighs, moving his gaze from the straw hat disappearing in the sea of people to the spirit standing next to him. He’s met with crossed arms and confused grey eyes, topped by raised eyebrows.  

“A pleasure to see you’re not feeling apologetic anymore, moss-head.” Sanji rolls his eyes and then walks down the steps with a mumbled, “Follow me.”  

Given that the only other lesson he’s supposed to attend has been cancelled because the professor left the previous week for a convention, Sanji has plenty of free time to get acquainted with the spirit. He may even get lucky and quickly find out what Zoro needs to move on.  

They walk in silence, and Sanji can feel Zoro’s eyes fixed on the back of his head as the spirit follows him out of the main gate, down the street, and into the small park not far from the cafe. There is no one except for an old man slowly exiting as they walk through the small entrance and find an empty bench.  

Sanji turns his head to look at Zoro, taking in his pensive expression as he leans forward, fingers interlocked and eyes fixed on a small playground in the distance, barely hidden behind a line of trees. There are a couple of kids playing under their parents’ supervision, but they’re too far away to notice Sanji’s presence or the fact that he may talk to himself.  

However, Sanji says nothing, slowly lighting a cigarette and waiting for Zoro to start voicing whatever questions and thoughts are littering his befuddled mind. Surprisingly, he doesn’t wait long.  

“You said you could help me, but…what happened to me?” His tone is laced with confusion, although Sanji is aware that Zoro knows the answer to that particular question.  

Nonetheless, denial is quite common among young ghosts, and some often need constant reminders of their condition. It’s never easy for spirits to come to terms with being dead, especially those who died young.  

“You died, and now you’re a ghost.” Sanji speaks slowly, coating every word with a gentle and calm tone.  

Silence stretches for a few seconds, and Zoro turns to him, one leg bent on the bench and grey eyes cast down on his twitching hands. He bites his lip before taking a deep, shaky breath.  

“I-I don’t remember what happened. And why can you see me?” Sanji nods at his words, fully aware that it’s far from rare for people who have died in a painful and traumatising way to block out all the memories correlated to their own passing.  

One moment they’re doing something mundane, like talking on the phone or jogging down the street, and the next they are walking through walls, completely invisible to their loved ones.  

He looks at Zoro’s confused expression and shivers as he imagines his face covered in blood, the light dimming from his eyes, and the colour draining from his skin as he slowly and painfully dies.  

Sanji takes a deep breath, thinks about the panic flooding Zoro’s eyes when they talked for the very first time, and carefully chooses his next words. He decides to try and steer the conversation around a topic that will not cause the spirit another emotional crisis.  

“I’m a seer. As far as I know, it’s hereditary, which means that it runs in my family. I can see the spirits of those who have died but still have unfinished business with the living world. They’re stuck here and cannot go to the Beyond.” Sanji talks with the ease and security that only practice can give, having repeated those words to countless people, living and dead, countless times.  

“The Beyond?” Zoro’s eyes are on his face, and Sanji smiles at his curiosity. He mentally pats himself on the back for successfully diverting the conversation away from the man’s confused memories.  

“You can call it Heaven, Elysium, Valhalla, or whatever name you can think of. It’s the place where souls go when people die and are at peace. I cannot tell you more than that since no living person can see or access it.” Sanji waves a hand around before taking a last drag of his cigarette.  

“Not even those like you? Seers?” Sanji smiles as he takes another cigarette from his pack after throwing the butt in the trashcan strategically situated next to the bench.  

Zoro’s eyes are alight with curiosity, his head is cocked to the side, and he looks eager to absorb everything and anything Sanji is willing to share. It's not the first time Sanji has found himself talking to someone about death and ghosts and the Beyond, but no one has ever looked at him with such an intrigued gaze—so bright and open and genuinely interested.  

Sanji shakes his head and hums in denial at the question while lighting his new smoke before looking at Zoro. The spirit sits cross-legged on the bench to face him more comfortably while hooking a hand around his chin and gazing up towards the sky, as if thinking about the next possible question.  

“Why did I disappear?” Sanji lifts a brow, trying to understand what Zoro is referring to.  

“You can walk through walls and objects, disappear and appear whenever and wherever you want. You gotta be more specific than that.” Smiling, Sanji takes a drag.  

“I thought you were the expert here, curls.” Zoro smirks when Sanji rolls his eyes, “I’m obviously talking about the hallway and then…the café.”   

Taking a deep breath, Sanji points a finger at the ghost.  

“You owe me a new shirt for that one.” Zoro’s eyebrows raise in surprise and confusion, but Sanji continues before he can be interrupted, “However, I am sure you were confused when you found yourself in another place after some time had passed with no recollection of what had happened in the meantime.”  

“Yeah. One moment I was talking to you, and the next I was...somewhere else, yeah.” Zoro looks around, pausing for a moment as if trying to remember something before turning to him with an irritated expression, “And what is it about me owing you something?”  

Sanji takes a deep drag, exhaling slowly before answering his question.   

“This is gonna sound complicated, but bear with me for a second, okay?” Zoro nods, cocking his head once more without moving his eyes from Sanji’s face. His expectant and curious expression makes Sanji slightly blush at the attention.   

“Basically, ghosts have a certain amount of energy, and I’m no expert about the physics behind it, but some spirits can interact with the living world by moving objects or even making themselves visible to people.” Sanji stops and throws the spent smoke in the bin before turning to his companion, who is looking at him with furrowed brows.  

“You mean that people talking about haunted houses and shit like that are not crazy?” Sanji waves a hand around while bobbing his head side to side.  

“Yes and no. I’m sure some are true, but many of those stories are fake. Anyway, since ghosts have a certain amount of energy, once a spirit uses it to move a few objects or do something that requires a great deal of concentration, they just…disappear. It’s like going to sleep to recharge before reappearing again next to your anchor.” He stops to see if Zoro is following his words.    

“And where do we go when it happens? Like...do we go somewhere, or do we simply stop existing for a while?” Sanji raises a brow at the question, thinking for a moment.  

“I honestly don’t have an answer for that, and I guess you don’t remember either.” Zoro shakes his head. “What I can tell you is that this happens when there is a lot of emotional stress too. When I first told you that you were dead, the news was a shock for you, and at the café, your anger was so strong that it overwhelmed you, and you…well, you caused the coffee to explode in my face. I was soaked to the bone.”  

Zoro’s eyebrows shoot up, and a smile appears on his face before the man starts chuckling low, surprised and amused.  

“Yeah, yeah, yeah. Very funny. You still owe me a new shirt, though.” Sanji repeats, no real anger in his voice and a faint smile grazing his lips.  

“I would have paid to see that. For fuck’s sake, I need to learn how to do it on command.” Zoro stops laughing and looks down at his own hands contemplatively.  

“I can help you with some of that if you want. You’re not the first helpless ghost I meet.” Sanji says quickly, hoping the heat on his cheeks is invisible to Zoro’s surprised eyes. 

“Okay. I-I…well, thanks.” Zoro scratches the back of his neck, looking at something over Sanji’s shoulder. “There are still a lot of things I don’t understand.”  

“I’m here to help you understand them and move on towards the Beyond. That’s what I believe should be the duty of us seers.” Sanji looks at the children leaving the playground and misses the sad look appearing in Zoro’s eyes.  

“Yeah…that thing.” Sanji turns his gaze to the man, taking in the sudden change in his mood.  

“Is there… are there any more questions you wanna ask?” With a gentle tone, Sanji tries to change the topic in the hope of seeing more of that curious, glimmering gaze.  

For a few moments, the wind rustling among the trees is the only sound filling the air, honking cars and voices reduced to a murmur from some distant place beyond the green surrounding them.  

“What’s that word you used before? You said something about my anchor?” Zoro finally speaks, and Sanji smiles and hums in affirmation at his question.  

“When the spirit gets detached from the body, it needs something else to stay tethered to the living world. Usually, ghosts latch on to other living people, even though there are some rare cases when spirits can latch onto objects. I call those anchors because a spirit is quite literally anchored to them.  

Zoro sits silently for a moment, looking down at his hands before speaking, ”And is there a reason for someone to be bound to a certain person and not...someone else?”  

“That depends on the spirit. Sometimes they are anchored to someone who is extremely important to them, like a relative, a friend, or a partner. When a person dies unexpectedly and in a very traumatic way…well, their spirit could get tied to someone who was present at that moment.” Sanji looks at Zoro’s face as the man turns around and puts his feet on the ground, gazing at the trees.  

“I just...I can’t remember what happened.” Zoro says after a few silent moments, head tilted back and eyes searching for something in the blue sky above them, “Every time I try to think about it, I get this pain in my head, and I cannot think straight. And when I wake up from these energy sleeps or whatever they are…”  

Zoro goes suddenly quiet, and Sanji can see him biting his lips when their eyes lock once more. For a moment, it looks like Zoro is stopping himself from sharing something, but Sanji shakes the thought away and offers him a gentle smile.  

“Luffy’s brother told me...well, he didn’t tell me explicitly, but he made me understand that Luffy is somehow traumatized. And my friend Usopp told me something about a rumour that’s been going around lately. Something about an accident.” When the words leave Sanji’s lips, Zoro’s back straightens.  

His attention is completely captured by Sanji, and his grey eyes shine with surprise and anticipation, “A rumour? Something to do with me?”  

Sanji can feel the fear and worry hidden in the murmured question, Zoro’s expression betraying his internal battle between the desire to know and the emotional safety of blissful ignorance.  

“I don’t know much about it, only that it’s about some sort of accident. All I can tell you is that Luffy and Ace were involved. And they say you were there too.” Sanji puts his elbows on his knees and hunches forward, glancing at Zoro’s face as his grey eyes bore holes in the ground between his feet, back straight and hands tight in his lap.  

After a few seconds of silence, Zoro lets out a pained growl, hands raised to cover his face, shoulders trembling as he tries to regulate his erratic breath. Sanji’s eyes widen when he sees bandages appearing on his arm and legs, blood dripping from his suddenly tattered and muddy clothes.  

In the next blink, Zoro is back to his pristine white button-up and black slacks, skin clean, and no blood to be seen as he pinches the bridge of his nose while taking a deep breath.  

Sanji tries to push down the knot in his throat as he thinks that Zoro’s passing must have been painful and brutal given the wounds and the state of his appearance. He slowly inhales and shakes that thought away.  

“Don’t force yourself. Your memories will come in due time; don’t worry.” Sanji stops short of reaching out a comforting hand, briefly wondering why the hell would he do that knowing that his fingers will pass through Zoro’s body. 

The spirit nods, humming in affirmation but giving no sign of wanting to continue the conversation. When Zoro finally lowers his hand back to his lap, Sanji notices it’s slightly shaking, and he bites his lip, trying to think about something to say or do to distract the spirit from his painful thoughts.  

He knows that if Zoro concentrates too hard on trying to remember, his energy could deplete extremely quickly, and if he disappears once again, Sanji would have no way of knowing how long it would pass before Zoro could appear again. 

Suddenly, Sanji feels a vibration and fishes his phone out of the pocket of his pants, reading the pop-up on the lockscreen and smiling to himself.  

“Hey, mosshead.” Zoro humms, eyes fixed on the ground in front of his feet, “Do you want to properly meet my friends? They’re at the same café we were the other day.”  

Zoro’s head snaps up and his brows arch in surprise, but after a few seconds of confused blinks, he shrugs and then nods with a low, “Why not?”  

Sanji nods back with a smile, quickly getting up from the bench and turning around to look at Zoro, who is nowhere to be seen.  

“You comin’ or not?” Sanji spins around and sees Zoro standing at another entrance to the small green area, arms crossed and a smug smile on his face.  

Confused, Sanji points towards the entrance they used before with a whispered, “It’s actually that way.”  

Sanji blinks again, and this time Zoro appears right in front of him, a small blush spreading on the bridge of his nose as he turns and walks towards the right gate without a word.   

Shaking himself from his stupor, Sanji quickly takes his bag and falls into step next to the ghost, wondering how long it has taken him to learn how to teleport himself with such precision and speed.  

“I just think about where I wanna go, and I’m there. No biggie.” Zoro says when Sanji voices the question.  

“Really? It usually takes a lot of energy and a lot of time to do something like that. I remember once an elderly neighbour appeared in my bathroom by mistake while I was showering.” Sanji shivers at the memory, shaking his head, while Zoro chuckles at his grimacing face.  

“Is it really weird? That it’s easy for me to control this energy thing, I mean.” Zoro asks after a moment of silence as they stop in front of the door of the Thousand Sunny.   

“I don’t know. All I can tell you is that it takes an enormous amount of energy for a ghost to do literally anything. Even passing through objects can be draining for some.” Sanji shrugs, unable to give him a better answer.  

Zoro nods and then steps through the glass door. When he turns around and looks at him with a raised brow and a smug smirk, Sanji smiles and shakes his head while reaching for the handle, the small bell chiming over his head as he steps in.  

Sanji continues to stare at the back of Zoro’s head while they walk inside the small café, wondering why he hasn’t noticed before the unusual way the light seems to bounce off Zoro’s figure.  

After years of unwanted practice, Sanji knows well how to tell the difference between a ghost and a living human being. One of the most apparent characteristics all ghosts share is that they are usually transparent, sometimes even completely see-through after they use a great deal of their energy.  

For this reason, light hits spirits in a different way, as if their bodies somehow absorb sunlight without it reflecting into their eyes, eyeglasses, or jewels. The colour of their hair and eyes and clothes often looks washed out, as if they are nothing more than an old picture taken at the exact moment they stepped through the door between life and death.   

However, for the first time since they met, Sanji finally notices that at times he can barely see through Zoro’s body, and his grey irises often sparkle when the sunlight hits his face. That may probably be why it took him a few seconds to realise Zoro was a ghost when they locked eyes for the very first time at lesson.   

Zoro seems to be a peculiar case given his uncanny ability to control his energy and his unusual appearance. He doesn’t know what, but something is definitely different about Zoro, and that’s the only thing Sanji is completely sure of.  

**** 

“Now, slide it over here.”  

“Do I really need to do it again?”  

“Yes. You learn pretty fast, but you need to understand how to properly use your energy without letting your emotions overcome you. That’s the only way you won’t disappear like before.”  

Sanji takes the glass from the edge of the table, putting it back in the centre, in front of Zoro. He looks at the spirit, who’s slouching in one of his chairs while glaring at the cup as if it has personally insulted him.  

After a brief chat with Nami and Usopp, Sanji brought Zoro to his apartment with the intention of helping him learn how to properly channel and use his energy. This is the only way for Zoro to learn how to rein in his emotional outbursts and salvage the rest of his wardrobe from another wave of hot coffee.  

“I already moved it like a thousand times in a thousand different directions. And I didn’t smash it to the ground. I dunno what else you want from me.” Zoro huffs and looks at Sanji with an annoyed expression, arms crossed on his chest.  

“Okay, I’ll admit it’s impressive that you haven’t broken it yet, but you still cannot control the direction very well. Now, I want you to bring it right here.” Sanji sits right in front of the ghost, one finger pointed to a corner of the table.  

Zoro huffs and rolls his eyes, slouching over the table and resting his head on his crossed arms. He stares intensely at the glass, innocently sitting a few centimetres from his nose.  

After a few seconds, the cup starts shaking, and Zoro narrows his eyes, taking a deep breath and following its quick movement as it slides towards Sanji, stopping exactly at the corner he was pointing at. Another millimetre, and it would have fallen and become a jigsaw glass puzzle.  

“Yes!” Zoro jumps on his seat and punches the air, smiling at Sanji as he takes the cup and puts it back at the centre of the table.  

“That was really good. Now grab it and lift it.” Sanji smirks at Zoro, who frowns at him.  

“What?” Zoro moves his gaze between the cup and the guy sitting in front of him, as if Sanji has just talked in some weird foreign language.  

“Grab the glass and lift it like you’d normally do. If you start feeling tired, you stop immediately.” Sanji waves an admonishing finger at him, tone serious.  

“Yeah, yeah, I know. If I tire myself out, I could disappear who knows where. No need to repeat yourself, curls.” Making a show of rolling his eyes, Zoro reaches out and then grunts annoyed when his fingers pass through the clear object.  

He keeps trying, but he only manages to close his hand in a fist through the glass, frustration growing with each failed attempt. The cup shakes when he lets out an angry growl.  

“Stay calm and try to concentrate. Remember to tame your emotions.” Sanji’s voice is low and calm, and Zoro closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. When he reopens them, he’s met with a pair of encouraging blue eyes, and Sanji nods at him with a gentle smile.  

Looking at the insulting object, Zoro reaches out once more, stopping short of touching it. Slowly, he feels his fingers tingle as his hand closes around the glass, his hold secure as he lifts it a few centimetres from the table.   

“Wow.” Sanji’s eyes are wide as he stares at Zoro’s concentrated face, completely taken aback by the energy he’s emanating.  

His hair is a vibrant green and his skin is dark with a healthy tan. It’s almost impossible to see through his body, and if Sanji had been unaware of the situation, he would have believed that Zoro was sitting right there in front of him, alive and breathing, and so stunningly bright and beautiful.  

He can see the moment Zoro feels his energy wane, the glass falling from his grasp and landing on the surface with a thud. He sits back and starts panting as he stares quizzically at his own quivering hands, probably wondering why such a menial task has left him so out of breath.  

The colour from his hair and skin is gone, and he’s coming in and out of focus, like the projection of a video with a bad signal.  

“Take it easy. Interacting with the living world takes a lot of energy, especially at the beginning.” Sanji gets up and takes the glass away, putting it back in a cupboard.  

When he turns around, Zoro is still looking at his own palms, his lost gaze a clear indication of a confused wandering mind. Taking a deep breath, Sanji decides to give him some space and starts putting together something quick for lunch, his stomach rumbling in delight at the idea of food.  

“I’m not sure I wanna know.” Zoro’s voice is barely a whisper, and Sanji glances at him from over his shoulder as an intelligible murmur reaches his ear.  

“Did you say something?” Sanji turns around with an empty pot in his hands.   

When Zoro doesn’t answer his question, he turns around, fills the pot, and puts it on the stove, turning on the flame and fishing the salt out of a cupboard.   

He glances back at the silent spirit and then sighs, taking out the tomatoes along with everything else he needs for his dish. His mind goes blank the moment he starts to chop his worry away.   

After a few minutes of silence, broken only by the sounds of him moving and puttering about the kitchen, Sanji jumps, startled by Zoro suddenly appearing right next to him. His grey eyes are alight with curiosity as he looks at the stove.  

“You cook?” Sanji feels his cheeks heating as Zoro eyes the sauce simmering in the pan.  

“Yep. I’m a sous chef, and I’m studying to open my own restaurant.” Tossing the pasta in the boiling water, Sanji turns back to the pan, and after a few more seconds of stirring, he covers it with a lid and turns off the stove.  

When Sanji glances at his ghostly companion, Zoro’s eyes are already on his face. There’s a surprised light in his gaze, as if he’s seeing Sanji for the very first time, and he briefly wonders how many times a person can blush before exploding from too much attention.  

Zoro smiles, and his eyes seem to light up when he starts talking, “I wanna open my own gym and teach kendo, that’s why I’m studying...” Zoro’s smile quickly fades as he looks at something over Sanji’s shoulder, “I mean…I was studying to do that, but-”  

Not knowing what to do or say and aware that apologies are completely useless in these circumstances, Sanji shuffles from one foot to another, eyes running to the timer he has just set on the counter.  

“When I was a kid, I had a friend, and we used to train together.” Sanji looks back at Zoro, who turns around to stare at the open living room with his lips stretched in a gentle smile, “I don’t know why I’m telling you this, but Kuina, my friend, she wanted to be the best. We promised that we would both try to be the world’s number one, and then we would open our own dojo. But after we made that promise, she…well, she died.”  

The story and its implications hang heavily in the air. Sanji nods at him when Zoro briefly glances his way and then slowly stirs the pasta in the water, the bubbling sound filling the heavy silence between them.   

After a few seconds, Sanji looks again at the timer and stands next to Zoro, glancing at him from the corner of his eye.   

“I always wanted to be a chef, and I used to cook for my mom all the time when I was a child.” The words tumble from his mouth.  

Zoro turns his head to look at him, the sadness slowly giving way to surprise and curiosity.  

With a smile, Sanji continues, “My mom was always sick, and I thought I could cook things that would make her feel better. If I think about the crazy dishes I would put together, sometimes I wonder if I didn’t make her feel worse.” A humourless chuckle leaves his lips, interrupted by the timer chiming loudly.  

Have ten minutes already passed?  

Zoro doesn’t speak and simply watches Sanji move about the kitchen as he plates his own lunch and puts his used utensils in the sink. When he sits at the table with his pasta and a cup of water, Zoro appears right in front of him, chin resting in the palm of his hand and earrings swaying when he tilts his head to the side.  

Sanji briefly wonders if they would glimmer, reflecting the light coming from the window, or chime in a quiet room. 

“My mom was the only one who really loved me. My sister too, but that was...complicated.” Sanji is surprised by his own words. Never had he voiced his emotions like that, and the strange feeling of safety is only heightened by the absence of judgement in Zoro’s face when they lock eyes.  

In fact, although surprised and a little bit confused by his words, Zoro doesn’t look at him as if he has grown two heads. He simply nods, silently inviting Sanji to continue his story.   

Before Sanji can stop and think too much about his sudden need to share, the dam breaks, and the words pour out of his mouth like a river finally freed from its confines.  

“I can…Well, I told you that seeing ghosts is hereditary, my mom told me that when I was around six after she found me playing in my room with our cat.” Sanji smiles and starts eating.  

Zoro looks extremely confused. “Your cat? You mean that…” Sanji swallows and nods, cleaning his lips with a napkin before taking a sip of water.  

“I called her Whiskers and well, my family was completely fucked up, but, long story short, my brothers were bored and decided to play with our cat and invertedly killed her. I don’t know if they were really playing with her or simply torturing the poor thing for fun.” Zoro’s eyes widen more and more with every word that leaves his mouth. “Anyway, my father hid her body in our garden with the help of my sister, who later told my mom what had happened.”  

Sanji shakes his head with a smile at the memory and takes a deep breath before continuing. “No one told me anything, and that’s why I kept playing with her ghost until my mom saw me in my room. When I told her I was playing with Whiskers she immediately understood I could see spirits.”  

In the silence, Sanji keeps on eating while glancing at the flabbergasted ghost, who is staring at him like he’s sitting in front of a weird creature he cannot quite comprehend.  

“There is so much to unpack here…I don’t even know where to start.” Sanji chuckles, feeling a warmth expanding in his chest when Zoro leans back in his chair and smiles at him, befuddlement still obvious in his wide twinkling eyes.   

He keeps on eating, Zoro’s gaze fixed on the table as he thinks about all that has been thrown his way.   

“You said you have a sister and some brothers. Are you the only seer?” Sanji blinks at the sudden question.  

“You don’t…feel sorry or something?” Mouthing the last forkful of his pasta, Sanji cleans his mouth with the napkin before raising a questioning brow at Zoro.  

“Why should I? You had a shitty past, but you seem fine to me now. You certainly don’t need my pity.” Zoro shrugs and then crosses his arms on the table, smirking.  

“Well, I…yeah, I really don’t need that.” Zoro nods and smiles at him. Sanji can feel his ears burn.  

“So? Are you the only ghost-talker in your family?” Sanji bobs his head as he sits back and reaches for the pack of cigarettes he previously left on the table.  

“As of now, yeah. My father made sure of that.” Inhaling some smoke, Sanji looks into Zoro’s confused eyes.  

The ghost leans back and opens his mouth to ask a follow-up question. After a moment of hesitation, he closes it, fixing his eyes on the empty cup, and Sanji can almost see the cogs moving in his head.  

“Why…why exactly are you telling me all of this? I mean…we don’t even know each other, and here you are, sharing your tragic backstory.” Sanji stares at the empty plate as the cigarette slowly burns away with every drag.  

He doesn’t have an answer for that particular question, so he simply shrugs and looks out the window. Silence stretches, and then Zoro clears his throat, attracting Sanji’s attention.  

“Growing up, I never had many friends either. I can understand the need to share. If that’s what’s going on.” Sanji’s eyebrows hitch high on his forehead as he looks at Zoro scratching the back of his neck, “Like I said before, we all got shit in our past, but that doesn’t mean we have to carry it all by ourselves. It’s okay if you wanna talk about it...with me.”   

Sanji has never seen a ghost blush so much, and he cannot help but chuckle at the odd display of kindness and bashfulness. Zoro suddenly looks offended by his reaction, brows furrowed and lips pressed in a tight line.  

“Thanks moss. I guess you’re right about my need to share things. I’ve never…” Sanji bites his lip as he searches for the right words. Zoro looks at him in silence, patiently waiting for him to continue. “There are things I cannot talk about with everyone I meet, and sometimes it’s easier to talk about with people who…ya know.”   

Sanji waves a hand in front of his face, putting the spent butt on the empty plate as he watches Zoro’s sparkle with understanding. His face falls, a sad light brightening his eyes as he averts his gaze before looking at Sanji with an angry expression.  

“You mean that it’s easier to spill your guts to someone who’s dead because you’ll never see them again, right?” Zoro’s words are filled with ire and something else Sanji cannot quite grasp, “Someone like me. Because I’m dead, and for you, I’m only a problem to solve so I can disappear with all your little secrets and sob stories.”  

“That’s not-“  

“That’s exactly what you meant. Do you help ghosts only because it makes you feel better? You have a friend for a few days, like a temporary therapist, and when you’re done, you move on to the next one.” Sanji’s eyes fall from Zoro’s scowl to the empty glass, lightly shaking as the spirit’s angry energy fills the air.  

“Zoro, I think you should calm down before you-“  

“Before what? Am I hurting your feelings with the truth, curly?” Zoro disappears, only to appear behind Sanji.  

His chair is suddenly turned around, and Sanji can feel his stomach twist as he finds himself caged between Zoro’s arms while the ghost braces himself on the table that is now behind him.  

Despite the anger burning in Zoro’s eyes, for some odd reason, Sanji cannot feel anything else but utter confusion as he looks at the whirlwind of emotions that keep appearing and disappearing on the ghost’s face.  

“I don’t understand why you’re so upset. That is not what I meant to say.” Sanji tries to keep his voice calm and steady.  

“I may be dead, but I’m not stupid, and I’m not gonna stay here and listen to you pour your heart out, knowing you’d never do that if I were alive!” Zoro turns around and runs his hands between his hair, taking a deep breath to try and calm his erratic emotions.  

“What are you talking about now?” Sanji’s confusion deepens, and he cannot recognise the feelings glimmering in those grey irises when Zoro stares at him with a contrite face.  

“Nothing I…I’ll be back to go and do that thing.” Zoro shakes his head and starts walking towards a wall.  

“Wait, Zoro.” Sanji blinks, and he’s alone, the ghost nowhere to be found, “Shit.”  

He knows his words must’ve upset Zoro right when he thought he had managed to gain Zoro’s trust. If only he had stopped his own mouth from talking about his stupid past, maybe Zoro would have stayed, and they could have talked some more.  

Sanji wants to hear everything about that friend and whatever plans Zoro had for a future that had been so unkindly taken from him. He wants to listen to Zoro talk and laugh and watch his smile, so tender and full of light, while his eyes sparkle with fondness.  

He looked so young and alive and so incredibly beautiful when he relaxed and let himself simply be and feel.  

His breath hitches, and with wide eyes, Sanji abruptly stands up and fists his hands in his hair, yanking slightly at the thoughts running wild in his mind. He tries to breathe, walking back and forth in front of the table while he murmurs a litany of ‘nonono’ and ‘fucking idiot’.  

He stops, eyes fixed on the wall that Zoro used as some kind of door, dramatically leaving to go who knows where and do who knows what. He chuckles, hands falling to his sides as he shakes his head at the insane thought his brain keeps trying to shoo away.  

Because Sanji’s not developing feelings for a ghost.  

He is not.  

Chapter Text

Sighing, Sanji glances up at the sunlight gently extending across the ceiling. It’s still too early for his alarm, and he yawns, stretching his limbs and mentally patting himself on the back for deciding to stay home instead of attending today's lecture.  

After spending the whole afternoon and evening uselessly waiting for Zoro to reappear, Sanji spent the entire night turning and tossing around in his bed, slipping in and out of restless sleep as he stupidly worried about a ghost’s wellbeing.  

He gets up, goes to the bathroom, and quickly changes for the day before slowly making his way to the living room, the dark curtains holding back the sunlight. Sanji yawns again as he paddles to the window, moving the curtain to the side and letting the light brighten up the small space. 

“Hi.”  

“Fuck!”

Sanji jumps with a hand splayed on his chest, taking a deep breath when he turns around and meets a pair of amused grey eyes.  

“What’s wrong? Did you see a ghost?” Zoro smirks, and Sanji blinks, eyebrows raised at the unexpected pun.  

“Feeling funny today?” He bites back irritated, trying to slow down his heartbeat.   

When he receives no answer, Sanji sighs and goes to the kitchen. He quickly turns on the coffee machine, opening a cupboard to fish out a mug.  

When he turns around, the cup almost slips from his hand as he finds himself nose to nose with Zoro. His breath hitches, and after a blink, Zoro is suddenly a couple of feet away, with a bashful expression on his face and a raised hand to scratch the back of his neck.  

“Sorry.”  

“It’s...fine.” Sanji dismisses him with a deep breath, pouring himself a cup of dark liquid. "You have to learn how to better control your energy."

“I meant yesterday. About what I said, I was...” Sanji looks at Zoro, who seems to be struggling with coming up with the right words.  

“An asshole? A jerk? A prick? An empty-headed moss?” Zoro blinks and then notices Sanji’s smile. His shoulders sag and his face relaxes into a small tentative smile when he sees no trace of ire in Sanji's gaze.

“Yeah, kinda. I mean, I cannot imagine how difficult this must be.” He gestures at himself and then waves one hand around, “I guess it’s hard to make friends, and it’s always easier to talk to a stranger.”

The last part is barely whispered, but Sanji hums in acknowledgment, taking a sip of his black coffee and letting it warm his throat and stomach before answering calmly, “I should apologise too. I did share too much and didn’t explain myself well enough.”  

Zoro looks surprised by the apology but then nods, a gentle smile softening his features.  

Silence stretches for a few seconds while Sanji sips his coffee. Zoro’s eyes are fixed on the wall as he gets lost in thought, and Sanji briefly wonders if he’s still thinking about the previous day or if he’s simply going down memory lane, trying to walk the thin line between the past, the present, and a future that will never be.  

“Can we go today?” Zoro’s voice breaks the silence, and Sanji puts down his half-empty mug.  

“You want to talk to that resident?” Sanji studies the spirit’s face, taking in the crease between his brows and the tight line of his mouth. Zoro nods despite the uncertainty in his eyes.  

“I need to find out what happened to...to move on, right?” His voice is low, barely a whisper, and Sanji knows that despite the jokes and the smiles, Zoro’s still coming to terms with his new not-alive-anymore condition.  

“Yeah, you do. But we can go at your pace, and if you don’t feel ready-”  

“I want to.” Zoro says in a hurry, taking in a deep breath before saying slowly, “I need to find out what happened.”  

Sanji nods, finishing the rest of his coffee in a gulp and leaving the mug in the sink. He then walks towards the entrance and quickly puts on his shoes before donning his coat and pocketing his keys, wallet, and phone.   

A few minutes later, they’re running down the street to catch the bus that will take them to Drum Hospital.  

* 

* 

“You know Robin, Franky’s girlfriend? The black-haired woman who works in the bookshop downtown.” Usopp asked with his hands curled around a cup of tea.  

“I thought she worked here.” Nami said, confused, taking a sip of her coffee.  

“She and Franky actually own this place, and they both work here every now and then. Anyway, turns out that Robin, Franky’s girlfriend, knows a lot of people in this city. Even soome famous and important people.” Usopp said with a smirk.  

“The moss would like to know why we care about that.” Sanji chimed in with an amused smile.  

“If you’re going to talk for me, you could at least say what I say like I say it.” Zoro commented, irritated, with his chin propped on his palm as he stared at Usopp.

“I’m not going to use that type of foul language in the presence of a lady.” He growled lowly to the spirit, who rolled his eyes and started glancing around at the people walking in and out of the small cafe.  

Usopp and Nami looked at Sanji with raised brows, but he waved them off with a smile and took a sip of his coffee, “Please, continue with what you were saying.”  

“Right. Well, she knows a lot of people, and she’s friends with a surgeon at Drum Hospital. She also knows a resident in the emergency room there. And the other day-”

“I still don’t understand why this shit is important.”

“Shut up.” Usopp closed his mouth and blinked at Sanji, who turned to him with a quizzical expression, “Oh no, I was talking to the moss. Go on.”  

“Yeah, right. Well.” Usopp said with a small smile, clearing his throat and looking at the empty space in front of him, “Long story short, she heard from him—the resident, I mean—that a few weeks ago there was this guy in critical condition that was brought in the middle of the night. And he remembered him because he had, and I quote, weird green hair, kinda like grass .”  

Zoro and Sanji straightened in their seats, suddenly captivated by Usopp’s words. 

“You got all the attention.” Nami commented in a whisper, elbowing Usopp in the side, “Keep going.”  

“What? That’s it. This is all I had to say. Apparently, he didn’t say much about what happened, but Franky told me that Robin told him that if we knew some friends who wanted to know what happened to Zoro, we should tell them to go to Drum Hospital and ask for Chopper. He’s the resident, and he could share some information.” Usopp smiled, taking a sip of his drink.  

Sanji massaged his temple with two fingers, his other hand still wrapped around his cup.  

“Wait, let me get this straight. If I were to go to this hospital and find this Chopper, I could tell him that I’m Zoro’s friend, and he would simply tell me what happened.” Sanji said, unsure, briefly glancing at Zoro, who was staring intensely at the table while unconsciously biting his bottom lip.  

Usopp seemed to think for a moment and then nodded. “Yeah, that’s right. If you say that you know Robin, then he’d tell you.”  

“What do you want to do?” Sanji whispered low, briefly glancing at Zoro before taking a sip of his cooling coffee.  

“I...I don’t know.” He shook his head, confusion twisting his face.  

“What did he say? That's good news, right?” Nami asked curiously.  

Her smile turned into a frown when Sanji looked at her and shook his head before turning once again towards the spirit next to him.  

“I think it’s about time I helped you to control your energy outbursts. What do you say? We go to my place to practice with your energy, and you can think about this later.” Sanji asked quickly, a surprised look softening Zoro’s features.  

The spirit nodded, and in the next blink, he was gone. Sanji looked around and noticed him standing in front of the glass door of the café, head tilted back to stare at the sky. He looked lost in thought, clearly in need of a few moments by himself, and Sanji sighed, downing his drink in one go.  

“I’ll go. He’s waiting outside.” Sanji told his friends.  

“Is he alright? Did I...upset him? I didn't want to upset him.” Usopp asked nervously, fingers restlessly drumming against the side of his cup.  

Sanji glanced at Zoro and then smiled at Usopp before shaking his head.   

“No, I think he’s still coming to terms with, you know, the whole being dead thing.” Sanji waved a hand around and noticed Usopp’s shoulders relax as he smiled back.  

“Let us know what you find out if he decides to go and see this Chopper.”  

“Of course, my dear. I’ll keep you posted.” Sanji got up, and they shared a quick goodbye as he hurried out of the café.  

When the bells chimed, Zoro turned with a smile. His apparent happiness was dimmed by the dark and lost look in his stormy grey eyes. 

"This way, mosshead."

* 

* 

As they stand in front of the entrance, Sanji can see Zoro trying to put on a brave face. Shoulders tense, and eyes dark as he stares at the big grey building.  

“We can do this another day. No hurry.” He whispers low, glancing around to be sure no one is staring at him while he seemingly talks to thin air.  

Zoro shakes his head and then turns to him with a sad smile, eyes glazed over, as if his consciousness is somewhere else entirely. After a blink, he shakes his head again and glances at the people coming in and out of the big doors.  

“I think...I guess I should know what happened. The more I wait, the more difficult it will be.” Sanji nods, and then they walk towards the entrance.  

When he steps through the door, Sanji is suddenly reminded why he keeps avoiding medical exams. The air is filled with grief and negative energy, and it takes him a couple of moments to tune out the wailing voices of the souls still wandering around the place.  

Sanji looks around for the help desk, taking a deep breath and concentrating on blocking the myriad of voices from echoing inside his skull. Somehow, it's even worse than a walk in a cemetery.

“Are you okay?” Zoro asks with a frown, looking around the place to locate the reason for Sanji’s sudden stiffness and pallor.  

“Yeah, it’s just...I’m not a fan of hospitals. They’re full of death and dark energy.” Zoro nods at the quick explanation and then scans the place once more.  

“I think we should ask her.” He points at a small table where an old lady is sitting by herself, a bottle hidden in a paper bag that she keeps bringing to her lips.  

Sanji makes his way towards the woman, clearing his throat to attract her attention. Judging by the glassy look in her eyes and the redness of her cheeks, she is far from being sober.  

“Good morning, Miss... Kokoro ?” He reads her name tag, and the woman nods with a drunken smile, “Hi, I wanted to ask about a resident.”  

“And why would you need to know about our residents, dear?”  

“How can she work in a hospital like this? She needs to be locked up in some rehab centre.” Sanji bites his lip, trying not to snicker at Zoro’s astonished tone.

Sanji clears his throat and briefly notices that, for some reason, the closer he stands to Zoro, the fainter the voices are. He takes a small step to the side as he smiles kindly at the lady's distrustful face.

“Well, I’m a friend of Chopper, and I came here to surprise him because it’s been a long time since we saw each other.” Sanji says quickly, watching Kokoro’s eyes light up when he mentions the guy’s name.

“You’re a good liar, cook. Never thought you had it in you.” Zoro comments with an amused lilt, and Sanji briefly glances his way with a mouthed ‘cook?’ while Kokoro checks something on her phone.  

Zoro shrugs, and his smile widens, “You cook, so you’re a cook.” 

Before the irritation can get the best of him and make him start an argument about the difference between a cook and a chef with an invisible spirit, Kokoro lets out an amused chuckle, attracting their attention.  

“I just texted Kureha, and she told me Chopper’s on a break. You can find him in the break room on the first floor.” Sanji nods and holds back a grimace when she takes a big swing of whatever liquor she’s still holding with her other hand, the pungent smell making his nose itch.

“Would you mind giving me some directions, Miss Kokoro?” He asks with a plastic smile.  

“Of course, my dear. You just take the elevator down that corridor, and when you’re out on the first floor, go right. You’ll find the break room there on your left...or maybe the right...” She scratches her head and then shrugs, taking another gulp.  

Sanji blinks and tunes out Zoro’s incredulous chuckle in favour of nodding and smiling at the lady, “Okay, well...thank you for your help.”  

He turns on his heels and walks to the indicated corridor, taking a few deep breaths to get the smell of alcohol out of his nostrils.   

“How can someone like her work at a help desk in a hospital? She needs to be recovered.” Zoro wonders aloud for the second time, appearing right next to the elevator as Sanji pushes the button.  

“I don’t know, but at least we know where to find this Chopper.” Sanji mutters low, smiling at a woman in scrubs who glances at him before looking up at the numbers displayed over the elevator.  

The ride to the first floor is quick and silent, and they follow Kokoro’s directions to the breakroom that turns out to be the third door on the right. Sanji stops with his hand on the knob, glancing at Zoro, who’s biting his lip while staring instensely at the door.  

“You ready?” Zoro looks at him and nods, his brave mask slipping on once again as he straightens his shoulders.  

When he opens the door, Sanji is greeted by a young man with a mop of brown curly hair who jumps back, clearly startled by the door opening in front of his face.  

“Oh, I didn’t mean to scare you.” Sanji smiles while the man waves his hand, taking a few deep breaths.  

“He looks like a high school boy. Why is he dressed like that?” Sanji shrugs at Zoro’s question, looking at the baggy scrubs the man is donning.  

“No need. I was distracted thinking about something.” Sanji nods and then glances around the room, noticing that it’s completely empty except for the stranger.  

“Do you by any chance know a certain Chopper? I was told he was here.” The guy looks at him confused, a crease appearing between his brows.  

“Yeah, I’m Chopper. My name's actually Tony. Tony Chopper, but there’s another Tony here, so everyone calls me Chopper.” He answers with a smile, making Sanji’s eyebrow shoot up in surprise.  

“This kid is a resident?”  

“You’re a resident?” The words fall from Sanji’s mouth, and he watches Chopper nod while scratching a red cheek.  

“I graduated early, but that’s not something I usually discuss with...strangers.” He says the last word in a whisper, looking at Sanji up and down, as if assessing his level of threat.  

Sanji chuckles and tries to muster his friendliest smile as he takes a step into the room and lets the door close behind his back. Zoro appears standing right next to Chopper, his face a few millimetres away from the resident’s, eyes narrowed as if trying to find the secret behind his youthful appearance.  

“He’s a child. A genius, maybe.” He whispers to himself, and Sanji holds back the need to chuckle at how stupidly cute he looks. 

Chopper follows Sanji’s gaze to the empty air to his right, and Sanji blinks, a blush spreading on his cheeks as he clears his throat to attract Chopper’s attention.  

“I’m a friend of Zoro, and I heard from Robin that you could tell me what happened to him.” Sanji doesn't have to force his voice to sound distressed and the worried look on his face is completely real., Something cold twists his guts when Zoro straightens his back and gulps, gaze fixed on Chopper.  

His brown eyes widen for a moment, and a sad smile appears on his face, making him look even softer and younger. He nods and then clears his throat, eyes falling to the ground and hands absently playing with the knotted string of his pants.  

“Yeah, I mean...I shouldn’t be discussing a patient, but, I...well, I know what it's like to not be told anything about someone important to you.” There’s something melancholic in his gaze, and then he blinks, as if waking up from a bad memory.  

“And...can you tell me what happened?” Sanji tentatively asks in a whisper.  

“Yeah. Well, I should actually go and check his vitals now, if you’d like to come and see him. I know people shouldn’t enter when it’s not visiting hours, but-”  

“Wait, what?” Sanji raises a hand, and Choppers stops abruptly, looking at him with a confused expression, “What do you mean check his vitals and see him? He’s...”  

Sanji glances at Zoro, who’s staring at Chopper with wide eyes and a gaping mouth. His brain is probably on overload after hearing such confusing words.  

“I was told Zoro died.” Sanji says low, and Zoro’s shoulders tense while Chopper’s eyes widen.  

“Oh, no! No, no, he’s fine. I mean, he was in critical conditions when he arrived, but he’s stable now, even if he has some deep scars, and well...the doctors don't think he'll wake up, which is...not good.” Chopper bites his lip and goes back to fidget with his pants’s string.  

“Wake up from what?” Sanji echoes in a whisper. He's barely aware of Zoro's spirit, rooted on the spot with the same incredulous expression—eyes wide and lips slightly parted.

Sanji's brain is going haywire, and he doesn't even think about what may be going on in Zoro's mind at the moment. In fact, all he can think about is that there is something unconfortable twisting into his insides—cold sweat running down his neck as his skin freezes over.

Chopper's words start making sense, like small puzzle pieces slowly fitting together to shape an image that Sanji's brain refuses to understand as he glances at the ghost of a man who is apparently not actually dead.

“From the coma." Chopper answers with a light conversational tone, as if they're discussing the weather. As if he's not literally pulling the rug from under Sanji's feet, "Zoro’s in an irreversible coma.” 

**** 

“What the fuck is going on?”  

“I don’t know.”  

“You said I was dead.”  

“I thought you were dead. This is...” Sanji tears his eyes off the bandaged body lying on the cot to look at the spirit, standing on the other side of the bed, “I don’t know what to tell you, I’ve never seen anything like this.”  

Zoro doesn’t seem to hear his words, eyes fixed on the lifeless body in between them. His own lifeless body.

The left side of his head and face are covered in gauze, and his neck is tightly wrapped in gauze all the way down to his chest, hidden by the collar of the white gown. Sanji wonders what happened to him and how extensive the damage is under the gown and inside this pale and fragile body. 

There are so many tubes and wires all over the bed and the ground, and Sanji keeps glancing under his feet, worried about mistakenly stepping on one of them and cutting off the oxygen or whatever else is being pumped into Zoro's veins.   

Sanji moves his attention from the pale, lifeless, bruised body to the ghost, still donned with elegant clothes—his pristine skin tanned as if kissed by an invisible sun, and his hair is bright and vibrant like the leaves of a young sapling. He wonders what happened to him, and why he has never heard anything about comatose spirits.  

Maybe they can only roam around hospitals, but that would not explain why Zoro seems tethered to Luffy or how he can roam freely everywhere he wants. Additionally to that, when they walked down the corridor and passed room after room occupied by people in coma, Sanji had not encountered any spirit nor felt any presence of any kind.   

Zoro is a special case of some sort, and Sanji cannot understand why.  

“Should I try something?” Zoro’s voice is a whisper, and Sanji blinks, looking back at the body.  

“Maybe. You could try to lay down on you, like, inside your body?” Zoro looks at him with raised brows and then hums, as if trying to calculate the pros and cons of Sanji’s idea.  

With a curt nod, he sits on the bed and then lays down, disappearing into his own body. After a few seconds, he sits up, and Sanji frowns at his confused face.  

“I cannot feel anything.” The ghost says with an irritated tone, appearing next to the bed. He tries to get a hold of his own hand, but his incorporeal fingers keep passing through his own skin and flesh.  

“Nothing at all?” Sanji asks from his spot on the other side of the bed, glancing down at Zoro’s still hand and then looking back at his frustrated expression.  

“Nothing.” Zoro frowns down at the motionless arm as if it has personally insulted him.

Sanji looks once again at the lax face, eyes running down the chest that keeps moving up and down at the rhythm of whatever machine is breathing for him. He then glances at Zoro’s left hand lying on the sheet, his own hand moving automatically to cover it, thumb caressing the pale skin.  

“What are you doing?” Sanji's head jerks up, and he pulls his hand away, a blush high on his cheeks as he looks at Zoro’s inquisitive expression.  

“I wasn’t—I mean-” 

“You were touching my hand. I felt that.” Zoro raises his own hand, fingers touching right where Sanji had brushed his thumb.  

“What?” When Zoro looks at him, there’s surprise in his gaze and a small smile on his face.  

“I felt your touch. Do that again!” The spirit urges him, and Sanji grabs his hand, eyes widening when Zoro gasps and stares down at his own hand in amazement.  

Zoro looks at him with a smile, and then his face melts into astonishment as his eyes lock on something over Sanji’s shoulder. When Sanji opens his mouth with a worried question on the tip of his tongue, someone behind him clears their throat. He freezes, slowly turning his head towards the open door.  

“Who are you, and what are you doing to my brother?”  

The word eccentric wouldn’t be enough to describe the woman standing at the threshold, and Sanji is unable to do anything but blink at her.  

Long pink hair, heavy make-up, and a long black dress adorned with bright pink ribbons. She looks like a gothic doll, her pink lips twisted in a pout as she stares at Sanji with a crease between her perfect eyebrows.  

“Perona...” Sanji glances at Zoro, who stares at the woman with an unreadable expression.  

When she steps into the room, her heels echo in the silence alongside the beeping of the machines, and Sanji turns to her once again, letting go of Zoro’s hand and moving to the side.  

“I’m just-well, I have some classes with Zoro, and I heard what happened, and I just, well...” For the first time in his life, Sanji is unable to come up with a plausible lie, taken aback by the weird woman and Zoro’s shell-shocked reaction to her sudden appearance.  

She stands next to the bed and turns to him, calculating dark eyes running up and down his figure before her face softens in a gentle smile. All Sanji can think is that with her pale skin, the elegant dress, and the make-up, she could be a vampire princess or a ghost from an era of ballroom dances and corsets.  

“You’re a friend of my brother?” Her voice is low, and Sanji mutely nods, one hand scratching the back of his neck.  

“Yeah, kinda. We're not best pals, but I know him.” He whispers back, watching her smile widen slightly as she looks at Zoro’s motionless face. 

After a few seconds of silence, Sanji glances at the spirit, still rooted to the ground with his gaze fixed on his sister. He wonders if, for some reason, he’s surprised by her presence or if he's shocked because she’s the first relative he's seen since he became a spirit—despite not having died yet.  

Sanji has seen many people break down and despair once they realised they would never be able to kiss or hug their loved ones. After today’s revelations, he cannot even imagine what emotional turmoil must be shaking Zoro’s whole being.  

“I’m Perona, Zoro’s sister. But I doubt he told you anything about me. We haven’t talked in a while.” She offers a perfectly manicured hand.

“Sanji. And I cannot understand why he never told me anything about such a beautiful sister.” He leans forward and kisses the back of her hand, earning a low chuckle from the girl.  

“Oh, my. Charming, aren’t you? I really cannot see how you and Zoro could be friends.”  

“It takes a while, but there’s a really good person hidden under all that moss.” She raises a brow and then turns back towards the bed, one hand absently moving to hold Zoro’s.  

“I can’t feel her.” Sanji glances at the spirit, who’s looking back and forth between Perona and his own hand, “I can’t feel her touch. Why can’t I feel her?”  

The look he gives Sanji is a mixture of pain and sorrow and confusion, but all Sanji can do is shrug and shake his head with a frown, unable to converse with him in someone else’s presence.  

“We tried not to let rumours spread about what happened. Our father is an important businessman, and he didn’t want the press or other crazy people trying to break into Zoro’s room or steal his records.” As she talks, she starts moving around—pulling the sheets up Zoro’s torso, fluffing the pillow under his head, tucking the cover around his legs.  

“I told him we should let his friends know, but Zoro never shared much about his life since he moved here and we didn’t know who to look for. I’m sorry you had to find out what happened through someone else.”  

When Perona walks around the bed, Zoro unconsciously steps back, eyes fixed on her erratic movements. Sanji clears his throat and then smiles at her, trying to sound reassuring, “Don’t worry. I cannot imagine how hard it must have been. I just...I did hear some rumours, but I still don’t know what happened to him.”   

Zoro looks at him with wide eyes, breath hitching as he turns to stare at Perona while she makes her way back around the bed to stand once more next to Sanji. He turns around and takes the plastic chair he had previously moved out of the way, pushing it towards the bed and motioning for Perona to sit.  

She nods with a grateful smile and slowly sits down, both hands immediately wrapping around Zoro’s while she leans forward, eyes fixed on her brother’s lax face.  

“You want to know what happened to him?” Her voice wavers, and Sanji briefly glances at Zoro, who nods at him with an expression full of dread and sadness and determination.  

“If you don’t mind telling me, I’d really like to know, yes.” His voice is barely a whisper, and she nods, gaze unmoving.  

“It was almost a month ago, a week or so before his birthday. He was supposed to go on a date and his friends, Ace and Luffy, were giving him a lift. Do you know them?” She takes a deep breath, eyes briefly glancing at Sanji as he nods her way.  

She hums before taking another deep breath. Sanji mentally braces himself for whatever she’s going to say.  

“All we know is that they stopped to fill the tank and this idiot decided to walk because he was late. And those two morons let him go even if...they know he gets lost easily. Those fucking idiots.” She raises a hand to pinch the bridge of her nose while taking a deep, steading breath, “Anyway, no one really knows what happened to him. They found out he never arrived at the restaurant, and then they looked for him and found him, and then...then he was gone.”  

“Gone?” Sanji echoes in a whisper. 

Perona nods with a shuddering breath. “Yeah. His heart stopped at least three times on the way to the hospital and it’s a miracle that he’s alive, but now they said that he won’t-” Her words are cut off by a sob, and she shakes her head, both hands raised to quickly dry her cheeks.  

“It’s alright.” Sanji puts a hand on Perona’s shoulder, “You don’t need to tell me anything more. I’m sorry if my questions upset you.”  

She shakes her head, and Sanji tries to gulp down the knot in his throat as he blinks away the blur from his vision. Perona’s quiet sobs fill the silent room, and he holds back the urge to apologise or to say something stupid like ‘ your brother’s here with us if you want to talk to him.’  

He briefly thinks about asking something else to change the topic, but his mind is completely blank as he wonders what could have happened to reduce Zoro’s body in such a state.  

“One of them had a gun.”  

Sanji’s eyes widen, and he looks at Zoro, who’s staring at Perona with glassy eyes. His face is slack, as if he got lost somewhere else, and Sanji braces himself for what’s about to happen. The knot in his throat moves down to the pit of his stomach while bile rises in the back of his mouth.  

“Luffy was asleep in the car, and Ace went to pay for the gas, but I knew he was gonna buy some junk food too. I was waiting next to the car, and it got late. Too late. I was walking, and then...a guy asked for some change and I knew there was something off about him, and that’s when...more people came out and started pushing me around.”  

Sanji takes a deep breath, eyes glued to Zoro’s face as his skin slowly loses colour while he starts taking short, shallowed breaths. Sanji always knew this was going to happen, but he doesn’t know how a comatose spirit will react upon remembering the moment he somehow got detached from his own body.  

He cannot even say anything to try and guide him through the flashback without alerting Perona. He’s completely stuck watching Zoro’s spirit deteriorate while he loses himself in the past.  

“One of them hit me in the head, and I almost went down. I tried to fight back, but another one stabbed me in the face while this guy...he had this weird knife, and he...it hurt so much when I fell down. And they wouldn’t stop...”   

When blood starts dripping down the left side of Zoro’s face, Sanji tries to focus on his right eye, the skin white while bruises slowly bloom on his cheek and neck—splotches of paint thrown on a canvas. Sanji’s eyes move down his frame, and he notices that his clothes are thorn while wounds keep appearing on his torso.  

Suddenly, blood starts pouring from his left pec, the shirt turning dark as the wound seems to keep lengthening, tearing apart the muscles across his torso, all the way down to his right hip. 

Sanji averts his gaze, trying to hold back a whimper while he gulps down the bile rising in his throat. He has seen his fair share of spirits remember gruesome deaths, but never something like this, never has he witnessed someone being literally opened and gutted alive.   

And somehow, Zoro survived whatever those people did to him.  

“Why didn’t they stop?”  

He glances up from Perona’s head and sees Zoro looking down at his own bloody hands, trembling with tears streaming down his face. Sanji knows he’s completely detached from reality, locked in the moment the spirit left his body and his life ended, even if his heart stopped only for a few seconds.  

“Stop, please...S-Stop it! Please stop!” Zoro keeps yelling at his aggressors, arms raised to protect his head, while bruises and slashes keep appearing all over his body, clothes turned to shreds and soaked in dark blood.  

Suddenly, there is a gunshot echoing through the air, and Sanji jumps, hand tightening slightly on Perona’s shoulder as he closes his eyes in fear.  

“Sanji? Are you alright?” Perona’s voice sounds distant, muffled by the ringing in his ears.  

When Sanji opens his eyes again, he’s sitting on the chair with Perona leaning in front of him, one cold hand gently cupping his face.  

“What...what happened?” He mutters low, tongue heavy into his cotton mouth.  

“I don’t know. You were extremely pale, and I think you passed out for a moment.” Perona’s voice is filled with concern, and Sanji looks over her shoulder to locate the ghost.  

But Zoro’s spirit nowhere to be seen. He probably disappeared the moment the shot rang in the air.   

Somehow, Sanji heard an echo from the past, Zoro’s flashback reverberating into his mind. And it felt so real that he had almost lost consciousness from the energy emanated by the frightened spirit.  

“I’m...I’m fine, dear. I just...I need to get some air.” He gets up on shaky legs and waves off Perona’s stretched hand, “It’s okay. It’s getting late anyway, and I gotta...I have to go.”  

“Are you sure you should be going around by yourself like this? You look like you've seen a ghost.” She nods towards Zoro, and Sanji smiles.  

“I’ll be fine. It was a pleasure meeting you, and I wish it could have happened under better circumstances.” He kisses the back of her hand once again and scrambles out of the room, her farewell following him to the corridor where he calls the elevator as he leans heavily against the wall. 

Once he steps outside the main entrance, Sanji looks up at the bright sky and acknowledges the tremor in his legs. His stomach goes upside down, and he raises a hand to his mouth, running towards some bushes on the side of the small pathway that connects the building to the busy street.  

His legs almost give out, shaky hands braced on his knees as his morning coffee leaves his body the same way it entered, the aftertaste of bile making him retch more despite nothing coming out of his empty stomach.

For a moment, as he thinks about Zoro’s mangled body and retches once more, Sanji is glad he skipped breakfast. 

Chapter Text

After hopping off the bus, Sanji stretches his back with a yawn. The sun is warm on his face, despite the cold breeze sneaking under his coat and making him shiver. Or maybe it’s the lack of sleep making his body drowsy even with the inhumane amount of coffee that's currently circulating in his arteries.  

His stomach grumbles, reminding him of the frugal meals he consumed the previous day and the dark liquid breakfast filling his stomach.  

After going back home from the hospital and trying to shake away the image of Zoro’s mangled body from his mind, Sanji spent the whole day and a great part of the night researching. He read times and times again all the old journals in his possession and spent hours navigating through blogs and videos about comatose patients miraculously waking up.  

Sanji feels like he wasted time looking for answers to questions he still could not even formulate in his mind. Hours of research had only given him a headache and a pair of dry, burning eyes, in addition to the almost empty stomach he couldn’t fill—every time he thought about food, the image of Zoro’s open torso flashed through his mind, making the hunger flee his body.  

After the infructuous day, Sanji uselessly tried to catch some sleep, hoping his body would be tired enough for his brain to gift him a dreamless slumber. He was not lucky, and after closing his eyes, he was soon welcomed into another nightmare where he was once again bound to a bed, shadow men torturing him while the spirit of his sister uselessly tried to undo his bonds—her hands kept passing through the ropes, and her cries only made Sanji’s anguish worse.  

Even after more than a decade, Sanji still cannot remember what exactly happened the day he underwent that so-called exorcism or how he managed to escape that hellish place. All he knows is that he’s free, and he’d like for his mind to keep those memories buried in an unreachable corner of his brain.  

As he walks by different restaurants and cafes, his nose picks up the scent of foods and spices while his insides twist and grumble, demanding nutrients. When he stops in front of the familiar door, he takes a deep breath, and his muscles immediately relax. It’s like the scent has somehow filled his body with warmth and a sense of safety that makes him think of home—a hot meal ready on the table, a smile and a hug after a long and tiring day.  

Two men exit the place, engrossed in conversation, and Sanji moves to the side, holding the door open before it can swing back into place. He enters and scans the few people moving about—there aren’t many customers, and almost half of the tables are empty. It’s quite normal given that the busiest times are Friday and Saturday nights, the best days to feed young students on break and drunk people in search of food. 

Letting his feet carry him through the familiar path, Sanji nods and smiles at the waiters who greet him, quickly making his way into the kitchen.  

He barely registers Patty’s usual remarks, blue eyes fixed on a broad back and a tall hat that could be spotted from a kilometre away. He still doesn’t understand why Zeff insists on wearing that ridiculous thing and Sanji knows that, despite how much they respect him, no one will ever stop snickering behind his back for the weird garment.  

“-add sugar instead of salt? Why are you still working here?” Despite the sounds of chopping and sizzling oil, Zeff’s voice echoes in the hot air of the kitchen.  

Sanji steps closer and cranes his neck to look over his father’s shoulder, his gaze falling on a young boy—the latest victim of Zeff’s rage. He notices a pair of big round glasses on a young contrite face full of freckles and cannot help but feel sorry for the boy, probably the apprentice who was supposed to start today.  

Sanji clears his throat, and the boy catches his gaze while Zeff turns his head, irritated at having been interrupted. When he notices who the person standing behind him is, the scowl disappears, and surprise briefly washes over his face.  

The chefs start murmuring while glancing at Sanji with confused and worried expressions, probably commenting on his dishevelled state and extremely pale complexion.  

“Eggplant? What are you doing here? I remember we had-“  

“An agreement, yeah, yeah. I work here the weekends and some evenings, but studying always comes first.” Sanji waves a hand in front of his face. He then runs it through his hair and bites his lip as he looks down at his own feet.  

Honestly, he doesn’t know why he came to the Baratie of all places. He needed a place to think, somewhere safe where he could relax and where the memories would not haunt his tired brain. His body had simply started moving on its own accord and after breakfast a quick breakfast—a cup of black coffee—he had changed and left the house, his legs carrying him while his mind wandered down memory lane.  

“Then what are you doing here when you’re supposed to be at lesson?” Zeff crosses his arms, throwing a look around at the whispering staff, “And what are you all looking at, you incompetent idiots? We have customers who are waiting for their food, and you’re wasting time gossiping like old hags!”  

The chefs go back to their tasks, the sounds of chopping and stirring fill the air once again as they keep throwing curious glances at the owner and the sous chef—they don't stop murmuring.

“It’s about…something else.” Sanji mutters low, one hand absentmindedly running through his hair and pulling a few strands.  

Zeff follows the movement with attentive eyes and steps forward, his calloused fingers gently closing around Sanji’s hand and successfully stopping its painful ministration. Sanji freezes at the touch, letting his arm go limp in the delicate hold while he looks at Zeff’s gentle smile and warm eyes.  

“Let’s go to my office and talk. Did you have lunch yet?” Sanji’s stomach rumbles and the noise must be quite loud given Zeff’s amused smile, “I’ll take that as a no.”  

“No, I didn’t. And food sounds good. Really, really good.” Zeff chuckles and nods, turning towards a stove and telling something to the chef, who immediately frees the station.  

Sanji steps to the side to not be underfoot, very aware of what a nuisance it can be having to work around someone who’s just standing in the middle of an extremely busy kitchen, given that some waiters have a habit of milling about on slow days and chatting with some chefs, becoming living obstacles for those who try to gossip and cook at the same time.

“What are you doing there, boy? Come here and make yourself useful.” Zeff looks at him over his shoulder, a smirk clashing with his harsh tone. Sanji blinks away his stupor, smiles and shakes his head before shedding his coat and rolling up his sleeves, ready to assist his father.  

Despite the lack of sleep and the stiffness in his tired muscles, he immediately falls into step with Zeff, and the world dissipates as his brain focuses on the task at hand.  

Years may pass, but Sanji will never get tired of the warm feeling spreading in his chest and the silence calming his mind as he chops and stirs and walks around pots and pans like there is nothing else in the whole world but him and the dish he’s making.  

Like he’s only a chef preparing food and nothing more. 

* 

“Let me get this straight. You’ve seen a ghost but yesterday you found out that the kid is actually alive?” Zeff’s incredulous tone perfectly sums up Sanji’s whirlwind of emotions, “And he’s in Drum Hospital in a coma?”  

Sanji mouths the last spoonful of rice while humming and nodding at the question.  

They’re currently sitting in Zeff’s small office, and the man has long finished his food, sitting back in his chair with his eyebrows slowly raising towards his hairline the deeper they delved into the last days’ events of Sanji’s not-so-normal life.  

“Yeah. The intern I spoke to said that Zoro’s in an irreversible coma, which means that there is literally no chance that he'll ever wake up.” Sanji cleans his mouth with a napkin, taking a long gulp of water.  

Having finally filled his stomach while talking to the person who had been bearing this madness with him since he was a child, Sanji finally feels like breathing again. He leans back in his chair and looks at Zeff as the man stares contemplatively at the ceiling, one hand slowly stroking one of his long moustaches.  

“And this is the reason you came here without calling or texting when you were supposed to be at lesson.” Zeff’s voice is quiet, and his phrase sounds more like a question than an accusation.  

“Well, yeah. This is way more important than a couple of missed lessons. I can always ask someone for the notes.” Sanji waves a hand dismissingly and straightens his back before filling the cup with more water, eyes fixed on the jug as he mentally curses his light skin for doing nothing to hide the redness expanding on his cheeks.  

“Eggplant.” Zeff’s voice is coloured with gentleness as well as authority, and Sanji can do nothing but sit back and look into his father’s eyes, fingers twitching around his glass, “There’s something else you’re not telling me.”  

Sanji downs the water in one long gulp, setting the glass on the desk as he starts looking everywhere but Zeff’s face.  

“I…I knew him.” Sanji finally looks at the man’s face and is met with a surprised expression, “I mean, I didn't really know him that well, but I used to see him in the hallways, and we had a few classes together, so…”  

“It’s the first time you see someone you know since-“  

“Yeah...Yeah, that was a problem too.” Sanji cuts his father off before they can delve into a topic he prefers leaving in his own personal Pandora’s box—locked away and dutifully ignored.  

Zeff nods and waves his hand in a circle, mutely inviting Sanji to continue his explanation. With a tight smile and a nod, Sanji accepts the way out he’s offered and keeps talking.  

“I just…It was okay at the beginning—my feelings for him were not important—and I thought I could help him go to the Beyond but now…Well, he’s not dead, and I have never seen something like this before, and I don’t know how to help him. If there’s a way to help him.” Sanji slumps back in his chair and runs both hands on his face.  

“Wait, what feelings are we talking about here?” Sanji raises a brow at the question.  

“That’s all you heard? Not the fact that there’s the ghost of a guy who’s not dead going around?” Zeff’s eyebrows shoot up, and he blinks as Sanji keeps mentally cursing his own pale complexion for doing nothing to hide the redness of his cheeks.  

Silence falls on them like a heavy blanket and the two fall into a battle of angry and inquisitive gazes. After a few seconds, with his ears on flame, Sanji turns his head to the side and mutters something under his breath, the blush moving down his neck.

“What was that? I believe you’re trying to tell me something.” Zeff cups a hand around one ear, making a show of leaning over the table.  

“I said that it’s none of your business.” Sanji turns to look at him before darting his eyes around the room once again, hands fiddling with the hem of his sweater.  

“Oh, well, it’s not like you need to explain anything to me.” Zeff sits back, a hand cupping his chin and looking around the room as if searching for something, “The boy's here? Is it necessary to give the shovel talk to a ghost? I mean, he’s not technically dead.”  

“What in the actual fuck—”  

“Language.”  

“—is wrong with you, old man?! And no, he’s not here.” Sanji runs a hand down his face, murmuring something about shitty geezers.  

“Well, let me know when he’s around.” Zeff chuckles as he goes back to stroking his moustache.  

“I said that it’s none of your business. And it doesn’t matter anyway.” Sanji huffs, looking at the ceiling and silently asking for divine intervention.  

“Yeah, yeah. Whatever you say, boy.” Waving a dismissive hand, Zeff hunches forward and puts his elbows on the table, “Going back to the main topic, what do you intend to do with this…dead-not-dead situation?”  

Running a hand through his hair, Sanji slumps back and looks helplessly at his father, “I honestly have no idea. You got any outside input?”  

“You tried talking to those friends of his? Perhaps once they’re filled in with the situation, they could find a way to…” Zeff waves a hand around, "Help him go back in his body or something?” 

“You think they could find a solution to a problem I don’t even understand after years of dealing with such madness?” Sanji bites his lip, before slumping even more in his chair, “But-well... talking to them with Zoro present could do something. Shake him up a bit.”  

Rubbing his face with both hands once again, Sanji lets out a grumbling noise and Zeff smiles at him sympathetically.  

“Sanji.” Sanji’s back straightens on instinct at the tone and he looks into the man’s worried eyes. " Can I ask you a serious question now?" Gulping, he nods, inviting Zeff to continue while something cold and unpleasant sits in the pit of his stomach.  

“Is there any reason that this kid—Zoro, you said his name is, right?” Sanji nods again, “Do you think Zoro wants to live?”   

Sanji blinks and his breath hitches, eyes wide and mind confused at the words. Silence stretches for a few seconds as Sanji sits there, frozen and unable to move or utter a word while he tries to process his father’s question.  

“What is it that you always say about those spirits that are stuck here? They have something that keeps them tethered to the livings—a grudge or a loved one they want to look after—right?” Sanji nods, seemingly unable to do anything else while Zeff’s eyes grow gentler and sadder with each and every word, “And they need to find peace before they can go to the Beyond. So…what if this kid is stuck in between?”  

“In between what? Life and death?" Sanji’s voice is so low that he doesn’t even recognise it.  

Zeff scratches his cheek, looking around the room as if waiting for the right words to appear in the heavy air surrounding them. Sanji stares down at his own hands, brows furrowed as he tries to understand his father’s words.  

It would not be the first time that an amnesiac ghost actually has no grudge to keep them from moving on. Sanji can still remember that nice old lady who worked at his school library—her only reason to stay was to retrieve her memories. Apparently, her inability to remember the accident that had taken her life was all that stood between her and the Beyond.  

But again, Zoro’s case is different given that he is not dead, but he does have amnesia. His behaviour—now that he finally found out how he had passed—is still a great incognita, and Sanji cannot even imagine what will happen the next time they meet.  

“What if.” Sanji raises his head and locks eyes with Zeff as the man voices his thoughts, “What if this kid doesn’t have any grudges to keep him here? Maybe he’s at peace, but since his body is still alive he’s like...trapped in a limbo.”  

Sanji’s brows furrow, confusion clear in his face while Zeff sighs and slumps back in his chair, looking at the ceiling for a better way to explain his theory.  

“You mean that...he dies, but his body is still alive, so he’s stuck here without actually wanting to.” Zeff hums and nods as Sanji waves his hands around while he speaks, “We know that his heart stopped, so his soul must’ve left his body, and when they managed to bring him back...maybe the spirit was just too gone to go back to his body or something.”  

Sanji slumps back, a hand cupping his chin as his eyes move back and forth between his empty cup and the jug of water. He absently moves a hand to fill the cup, eyes fixed on the flow filling the glass to the brim.  

He takes a sip and then puts the cup back, staring at the water sloshing around before settling into the small container. For a moment, his mind is filled with Zoro’s face, lips parted to talk when Luffy steps in between them.  

Sanji slams a hand on the table, eyes wide when he meets Zeff’s startled expression.  

“This is it! His soul is not tethered to his own body anymore!” Sanji exclaims loudly.  

“What?” Now it’s Zeff’s turn to look confused and scared—his weird tall hat slides down the side of his head, but Sanji has no time to laugh.  

“Zoro died, and his soul left his body, and now he’s anchored to Luffy. This means that he’s not connected to his own body. Do you follow what I’m saying?” Zeff nods, although the befuddled expression doesn’t leave his face, “Maybe-maybe there’s a way to…I dunno, transfer the bond or whatever from Luffy to Zoro’s body? Maybe Luffy needs to convince Zoro or be there when Zoro tries to go back to his body. I have no idea, but-I mean, it’s worth a try! He could still live!”  

Sanji jumps up, quickly putting on his coat before going around the table and hugging his father, who barely has time to get up before being tackled.  

“What-“  

“I gotta go! I have to call someone and send a few texts! Thanks for the help! And the food!" Sanji stops in front of the open door, a confused look washing over his face, "Well, if I cooked too, so I don't need to thank you but, well, whatever. Bye!” 

Zeff slumps back on his chair, looking at the door slamming closed and listening to the quick footsteps of his son running out of the restaurant. After a few seconds of uselessly trying to make sense of Sanji’s rushed explanation, Zeff smiles and shakes his head, slowly getting up to make his way back to the kitchen.  

“I’m too old for this voodoo shit.” 

**** 

“You think it’s a good idea to talk to all three of them at once?”  

Sanji takes a sip of his tea and smiles at Nami, who’s been staring at him with a raised brow and a sceptical expression since he opened his mouth and started talking. It's impressive that her muscles have not started spasming yet.  

“Yeah, I think it’s better to inform them all at once. We know that Ace and Luffy were there, and maybe the blonde one too.”  

“I’m sorry to interrupt your idle chat, but are we ignoring the whole thing about him not being dead?” They both turn to stare at Usopp’s incredulous face, his eyes still wide since Sanji had described his meeting with Chopper and the consequent encounter with Zoro’s sister. And the discovery regarding Zoro’s peculiar condition—alive but not quite.  

Sanji sighs and then leans back, arms crossed and a sad smile on his lips, “Like I said, this is the first time I see something like this, and I didn’t notice anyone else on the floor where they’re keeping him.”  

“And all those people are like him? Comatose patients?” Nami props her chin on one hand, one finger running over the rim of her cup.  

“Yeah. Or at least that’s what Chopper told me when we went to his room. Not that they had many rooms occupied, but I saw a few people wired to machines of different types and they were clearly all in some type of coma.”  

“But you can only see Zoro.” Usopp adds with a pensive tone, hands wrapped around his cup and eyes lost in thought.  

“Maybe there’s some connection between you two.” Nami suggests in a gleeful tone, leaning forward with a smile. Sanji can feel the blush on his cheeks as well as the annoyance bubbling in his chest as he rolls his eyes and opens his mouth to answer back.  

“As if I’d ever choose to be connected to someone like him.” Sanji jumps in his seat, one hand splayed on his chest as he takes a deep breath and glares at the ghost that has just spoken. Zoro smirks at him, clearly pleased by Sanji’s startled expression.  

“What the fuck are you doing here?” Sanji hisses, hiding his befuddlement behind the brim of his cup and taking a quick sip. The tea doesn’t wash away the knot in his throat as his eyes take in Zoro’s appearance.  

Despite what had happened in the hospital the previous day, he’s still dressed in a pristine white shirt and black slacks, with no bandage or wound or bruise visible on his body. His hair is bright green, and his skin still has a healthy tan. Sanji can even see the light being reflected on his earrings as Zoro slightly tilts his head to the side. 

He's as handsome as the first time Sanji saw him in the hallway.  

“Is Zoro here?” Usopp raises a questioning brow. Before he can answer, Sanji sees Zoro wrap a hand around Usopp’s cup and move it to the edge of the table, “Woah! I’ll take that as a yes. Hi, Zoro!”  

“Hello, longnose.”  

Usopp pulls the coffee back towards his chest and takes a generous sip, hands trembling as he glances around to see if anyone has noticed the drink move around by itself.  

“Don’t overexert yourself with these stupid stunts.” Sanji sighs as he watches Zoro shrug and lean back in his seat. 

“The others were talking about meeting you, so I just came ahead to tell you that they’re gonna be here in no time.” Zoro’s tone is unsure, brows furrowed as he looks at Sanji with an expression that is an odd mixture of curiosity and doubt.  

He opens his mouth as if a thought has just occurred to him, but then he closes it and shakes his head.  

“Something on your mind, mosshead?” Sanji can feel his stomach twisting unpleasantly, his instinct telling him that there is something extremely wrong with Zoro.  

“I just...we went to the hospital to see Chopper, right?” Sanji hums in acknowledgment, brows furrowed as he notices Zoro staring at something over Usopp’s shoulder, “I remember seeing Perona in the room, and then...it all gets fuzzy. I don’t remember what happened after that.”  

Sanji’s breath hitches and he forces himself to gulp down the air stuck in his throat before turning to Zoro with a surprised expression. He hadn’t thought about the possibility of the spirit being so traumatised that he would forget all that had happened to him for a second time.  

He remembers reading about the case of a ghost losing all her memories after remembering the painful and traumatising way she had died, but he has no experience of severely traumatised ghosts. Sanji has never encountered a spirit so fragile and so scarred that they would fail to recall their own passing for an extended period of time, let alone forget it right after regaining their memories.  

“Sanji? Are you feeling alright?” Sanji turns his head and blinks at Nami, her nimble fingers are warm around the skin of his wrist, “You look really pale.”  

“Yeah, I just...Zoro forgot what happened yesterday at the hospital. His memories...” He murmurs in a breath and watches Nami and Usopp’s faces morph in surprise before they blink at him, confused.  

“Does that usually happen?”  

“Wait, what do you mean yesterday?” Sani tunes out Usopp’s voice and turns to Zoro, whose eyes are wide and confused, “We’ve been there this morning, right?”  

Sanji blinks at him and then shakes his head, “No, it was yesterday morning. The shock must have sent you into that sleep state we talked about.”  

“But...but I saw Luffy having lunch, and I thought...” Zoro runs a hand over his face and through his hair, looking at Sanji without actually seeing him. “I was gone for a whole day?”  

“What’s happening?” Sanji turns once again towards Nami and then shakes his head before glancing in Zoro’s direction. She seems to understand the unspoken message and nods, releasing his wrist and whispering something in Usopp’s ear.  

“Hey mosshead.” Zoro blinks and then hums in acknowledgment, “Are you alright?”  

“I don’t-”  

“Sanji!”  

They all turn to stare at the door, where Luffy is jumping up and down on the spot with a big smile on his face and one arm raised to wave in Sanji’s direction.  

“Oh, shit.” Sanji feels his stomach twist again as he takes a deep breath to steady his erratic heart. He blinks and Zoro's standing next to him, dark, grey eyes trailed on the three brothers entering the café.

“They’re here. Are you ready?” Nami’s hand is once again around his wrist, grounding him in the present He nods at her and then turns to wave back at Luffy, who’s already running towards them with the blond guy in tow.  

“Hey! This is my brother Sabo.” Luffy smiles, and when Sanji gets up, he immediately envelopes him in a hug. Sanji chuckles at Luffy's flamboyance, returning the hug before he can occupy his now empty seat and start harassing his friends.  

“Nice to meet you.” Sanji turns towards Sabo and shakes his hand, his hold strong and firm. Up close, he cannot help but notice that the scar covering half of his face is actually a burn mark of some sort. He wonders what could have caused such an odd injury.

“Oh, I'm Sanji. Nice to meet you too.” Sanji takes a deep breath and then lets Sabo sit in the booth next to Luffy.  

When Sanji takes a seat next to Usopp, Nami kindly slides his cup of tea towards him and then goes back to whatever conversation Luffy has roped her into.  

“He could make friends with a plant.” Sanji briefly glances up at Zoro, who’s standing next to their table with a fond look on his face, eyes fixed on Luffy as he nods along to something Nami is telling him. They’re both smiling and giggling like old friends, catching up on each other's lives over a cup of coffee.  

After a few minutes of introductions and idle conversation, Ace joins them with one cup in each hand and a third one somewhat balanced between the two.  

“Hey Sanji, how you doin'? Hi everyone, I’m Ace, Luffy’s cooler brother.” Ace smiles and nods at Nami and Usopp while he passes the cups to his brothers and sits down in front of Sanji.  

"Ace, as in Ace Portgas?” All eyes turn to Nami and Sanji briefly notices that Luffy’s mouth is already smeared with hot chocolate.  

“Yeah, that’s me. Have we met before?” Ace rests his cheek on his open palm, eyes scanning Nami’s face as if trying to collocate her somewhere.  

“Oh, no, we haven’t. But I know Vivi.” There’s something off in Nami’s tone and when Sanji leans back to get a look at her profile, he notices the tension in her jaw and neck muscles. Her smile is clearly forced.  

“Oh.” Ace’s eyes widen for a moment, and a blush rises on his cheeks, “Vivi, right. It’s been a while since...well, how’s she doing?”  

“She’s fine. Doing well, yeah.” Nami takes a sip of her drink, eyes cast down to the table.  

The name Vivi rings a bell in Sanji’s mind, but he cannot pinpoint where or when he may have heard it before.  

“Wait, isn’t Vivi your ex-girlfriend?” Ace hums in affirmation at Luffy’s question and then takes a long gulp of his drink.  

“Nami, isn’t Vivi the name of your girl-” Usopp’s words are drawn out by a painful groan as Nami digs her heel into his foot with an angelic smile.  

“Yes! That friend I told you about a while ago.”  

Something clicks in Sanji’s mind, and he finally remembers the day—a couple of months ago—Nami told them about a cute girl she had a date with. After a few dates, the two girls had quickly become a couple, and Nami keeps mentioning how he and Usopp have yet to meet her girlfriend, Vivi, who is apparently Ace’s ex-girlfriend.  

“Oh, yea, I remember about that friend. What are the odds?” Sanji comments with a dry chuckle before taking a sip.  

“Is she banging Ace’s ex?” The tea goes down the wrong way, and Sanji coughs, one hand curled around his cup and the other covering his mouth as he glares up at Zoro while he smirks, “The world is really small.”  

“Shut up.” Sanji hisses as he coughs, nodding at Usopp when he kindly passes him a tissue.  

“Are you okay?” When he looks at Sabo, there is concern in his eyes but also a veil of curiosity.

Sanji cannot help but notice the way he and Ace keep looking between his reddening face as he keeps on coughing and the seemingly empty spot next to the table—Zoro mumbles something about the last time he talked to Vivi and then smirks at Sanji as he tries to regain control of his breath.  

“You should tell them, cook. I wanna know what happened.” Sanji finally clears his throat and then takes another sip of his tea, the stinging sensation in his throat decreasing as he tries to come up with the right words to breach the subject. 

Now that he knows Zoro lost his memories for the second time, Sanji is not sure whether or not asking the three brothers about what happened that night is actually a good idea. What would happen if Zoro relived that traumatising experience?  

Would he disappear again and come back without his memories? Or would he finally remember the night he had died and realise that maybe he has no reason to come back to the living world?

What would Sanji do then? Convince him to stay? Watch him step into the Beyond?  

“Why did you want to meet us?” It’s Luffy who speaks, and Sanji blinks out of his spiralling thoughts. When he turns to look at Luffy, he smiles when he sees hot chocolate smeared all over his lips and chin.  

“Well, I wanted to meet you because there’s something important I have to tell you, and it’s a bit...complicated, to say the least.” Sanji takes a deep breath, hands curling around his cooling cup.  

“What is it?” Sabo’s tone is low but serious, eyes filled with suspicion as he stares at Sanji. Ace’s smiling at him, nodding slowly as if inviting him to talk.  

“I guess there’s no easy way to say this, so I’ll just say it.” Sanji takes a deep breath and looks straight at Luffy’s confused smiles, “I can see ghosts, and Zoro’s here with us now.”  

Silence stretches for a few moments, and Sanji moves his gaze from Luffy’s astonished expression to Nami’s widening eyes, her lips slightly parted as she looks down at her cup.  

It's as if a veil has fallen on their table, everyone frozen in astonishment while Sanji holds his breath and scans their faces. As he runs a hand through his damp hair, he briefly wonders if the air is turning hot by the second or he's finally sweating out all the coffee he drank the previous night.

“I’m gonna punch the teeth out of your mouth.” Ace’s still smiling as he starts getting up from his seat.  

“I’m against the use of violence.” Sabo puts a hand on Ace’s shoulder, forcing him to sit back down. He then turns his blue eyes to Sanji, lips pulled into a tight line, “But maybe I'll help him this time.”  

“What?” Luffy blinks at him, hot chocolate smeared all over his cheeks as he tries to clean himself with a paper towel.  

“You could have worded it better.” Zoro chuckles from where he’s still standing next to the table, and Sanji glares at him, “Sugar-coated it a bit or something.”  

“Shut up.” He hisses under his breath, looking at his friends, still frozen by his side—Nami’s smile is a mask of astonishment, and Usopp hides his wide eyes behind a long, noisy gulp of coffee, the cup shaking in his hands.  

“But ghosts are usually dead people. And Zoro’s not dead, right?” Luffy turns to his brother, a crease between his brows as he locks eyes with Sabo and then Ace, looking for confirmation, “He’s still in the hospital, isn’t he?”  

“Yes, Luffy. Zoro’s in the hospital.” Sabo raises his other arm, draping it over Luffy’s shoulders and pulling him into his side. His eyes are burning with ire when they meet Sanji’s gaze.  

“What game are you playing?” Ace’s hands close into fists and his jaw is tense when Sanji turns to him, “What the fuck...do you...”  

The words slowly die in his mouth and his eyes widen as his cup slowly floats between his and Sanji’s faces. The eerie silence is broken by a sharp intake of breath, and Sanji looks up at Zoro, who smirks at him for a second before concentrating once more on the cup in his hand.  

“Okay, mosshead, that’s enough or you’ll exhaust your energy.” Sanji grabs the cup, unaware of Zoro’s confused gaze.

The ghost looks down at his hand, fingers tingling right where they touched Sanji’s skin. He could swear he felt the heat radiating from Sanji’s fingertips—a real touch that is making him shiver.  

“What was that?” Sabo’s voice is barely a whisper, eyes wide as he stares at Ace’s cup as if it’s going to explode in their faces.  

“Sometimes ghosts do that. Not as cool as when he made all the coffee explode and-”  

“Shut up.” Nami murmurs low, elbowing Usopp in the side. “Let them elaborate.”  

“Cook.” Sanji turns his attention from Luffy’s gaping face and wide eyes to Zoro, who’s staring at Sabo with a pensive gaze that turns into a mirthful smile, “Ask them about the fireworks when we were twelve.” 

Sanji blinks at him, and when he doesn’t speak, Zoro turns to him with raised brows. He then tilts his head towards the three brothers with a low, “Come on, ask them.”  

“Okay, okay. I’ll ask.” Sanji shakes his head and then turns his attention to Ace and Sabo, who are still staring at the cup.  

He clears his throat and the two look up at him with matching befuddled expressions, “Zoro told me to ask you about some fireworks when you were...twelve?”  

Ace blinks with wide eyes at the question, and Sanji briefly glances at Luffy, only to be met with a completely motionless statue—an open mouth and two big, unblinking eyes—lost in a place that's certainly not the present.  

“What the hell?” Sabo sighs and leans back. The hand on Ace’s shoulder tightens as his face becomes extremely pale, his other hand lightly running over the burn mark on his face. 

Suddenly, a low chuckle fills the silence, and they all turn to stare at Luffy, who’s woken up from his trance with a wide smile and eyes fixed somewhere over Sanji’s shoulder. He’s probably going down memory lane; Sanji’s words the key to a door long closed and forgotten.  

“We got fireworks from that old man and Sabo said he was the most responsible to use them. He lit the big one up and it exploded in his face.”  

“Actually, it was Ace who lit it up when Sabo wasn’t watching. The poor guy didn’t notice until it exploded when he was putting it down.” Zoro corrects him with a smirk, and Sanji quickly reports his comment.  

“Right. Zoro was the only one calm enough to go and ask for help.” Ace says with a smile, one hand raised to cover his eyes. Sanji makes a point to look away from his trembling lips and the drops that slowly fall on the table.  

“It’s all my fault.” Everyone turns to Luffy as he takes another napkin to finally clean his face from the chocolate, “I was sleeping in the car, and I should have gone with Zoro. If I wasn’t sleeping-”  

“No, it’s all because I was hungry and I wasted so much time deciding what type of chips to get. If I hadn’t taken so long, maybe-”  

“Shut up. Both of you.” Ace’s mouth is pressed in a thin line, and he quickly wipes his eyes with the back of his hand. Sabo looks at him and then locks eyes with Luffy before continuing, “We already talked about this, and we cannot change the past. All we can do is wait-”  

“Wait for what? It’s been a month already, and nothing has changed. Nothing will change, and we all know what the doctors said.” Ace gets up and walks away without sparing a second glance at them. They follow him as he leaves the café and disappears down the street.  

Sabo sighs and gets out of the booth, hands wrapped around his tea and Ace’s coffee. Luffy follows suit, throwing his empty cup in the garbage can near the entrance before walking outside, his hat hiding his pensive expression and dark eyes.  

“I think...I gotta go with them, I think.” Sanji looks up at Zoro, who’s staring at the door with furrowed brows and a distant look in his eyes. Before Sanji can say anything, he’s gone, and when he looks out of the glass door he can see a fleck of green moving down the street in pursuit of a straw hat that disappears behind a corner.  

This is not how he had envisioned this talk. He didn’t know what to expect, but this is not how it was supposed to go.  

“Zoro?” They turn to Sabo, who’s looking at the empty air next to Sanji, “I don’t know if this is real, but I want you to know-” 

“He’s not here anymore.” Sanji cuts him off with a sigh and a small smile, running a hand through his hair, “He followed Luffy and Ace, wherever they went. I’m sorry, I-I just wanted to understand what’s going on, and this is not how this should have gone.”  

Sabo smiles at him and shakes his head before turning towards the glass door with a distant look on his face.  

“It’s been really hard, and after so long, I just—I think everyone’s tired of hoping for a miracle that won’t happen.”  

“What do you mean?” Sanji almost jumps at the gentle voice and glances at Nami, finally remembering that his friends are still here and that they have witnessed the whole exchange.  

When Sanji looks up at Sabo, his blue eyes are welled up with unshed tears, and he takes a deep breath, probably trying to steady himself for the earth-shattering words that are about to tumble from his lips.  

“Zoro's been unresponsive for too long and they said...they decided to shut down the machines—his life support.” Sabo’s voice is unsteady and he looks at the ceiling as he blinks, taking a long, shuddering breath.  

Sanji cannot remember ever feeling like this before—frozen on the spot and unable to move or think or breathe. His whole body seems made of concrete, chest getting smaller around every short inhale, eyes stinging as he keeps on staring at Sabo’s crumbling expression.  

It’s Usopp the first to break the silence, clearing his throat and voicing the dreaded question, “And do you know when...when it will happen?”   

“On Sunday.”  

“Wait. Sunday, this Sunday? As in the day after tomorrow?” Nami’s tone is surprised and her gaze moves quickly from Usopp’s flabbergasted face, Sanji’s emotionless expression, and Sabo’s watery eyes, “But he’s still alive. I mean, his spirit-”  

“Maybe that’s why.” Sanji’s voice is barely a whisper, and he clears his throat as all eyes turn to him, “Maybe he appeared now because he’s getting too detached from his body. Maybe he's already-”  

His voice is caught in a rattling breath and he clears his throat. He stays silent and doesn’t voice the thought running through his head, but he can feel that the others understand what he doesn’t dare to say.

“I gotta go now, or those two will get lost somewhere. It was nice meeting you.” Sabo smiles, but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes and in the next blink he’s gone, the chiming of the bells above the door the only indication of his passage.  

Sanji stares down at the remnants of his tea, mind lost in the memory of Zoro standing in his kitchen, talking about dreams and a future that had been taken from him by a fluke of fate—in wrong place at the wrong time.  

For some reason, Sanji thought that talking to the three brothers would shed some light on all the weird questions jumping about his brain, guiding him to the miraculous solution to all his problems.  

Instead, he was met with a bottomless pit of despair and guilt—the news of Zoro’s life being literally turned off was the cherry on top of a cake of tears and sadness and bad luck.  

“What will you do?” Sanji blinks and looks up at Nami, who’s leaning with her cheek on the palm of her hand, eyes curious and inquisitive.  

Sanji sighs and runs a hand through his hair. He tugs slightly at the strands to ground himself in the here and now, mind spiralling down a hole of resignment and hopelessness.  

“I don’t know.” His voice is low, and the words are almost drawn out by the noise of the other patrons, who are laughing and chatting as if nothing’s happening. 

Because, despite people dying and people despairing, the world will never stop spinning. Days and nights will pass, and no one will ever know about the loss in Sanji’s heart—a hole caved in his chest that is quickly eating up every crumble of the light and hope he felt when he found out Zoro was alive.  

Sanji knew that Zoro's waking up was a hopeless wish, yet he ignored his instinct and let himself slip down a path of blind optimism and warm hope. He should have listened to his gut and kept his distance because nothing good ever comes to the lives he touches.

His mother, his sister, his family. And now Zoro, a stranger he had brushed past in a corridor full of people, a simple guy who had the misfortune of catching Sanji's eye and entering the gravity force of his star-crossed luck.

After all, Sanji’s nothing more than a messenger of Death, a person tasked with the arduous job of giving a voice to spirits who cannot find peace. The mere thought that his gift could be correlated to something good—a happy ending devoid of cries and hurtful goodbyes—was simply the naive dream of a child desperate to find peace, tired of looking for the bright side of a gift that’s nothing more than a curse. 

A curse that seems to keep bringin pain and misery to everyone around him.

“I don’t know if there's anything we can do now.”  

Chapter Text

“I don’t like this story. She didn’t wake up in the end.”  

“No, sadly, she didn’t. Real stories don’t always have a happy ending, my love.”  

“But why could the other lady see the spirit if she wasn’t like us? She didn’t have the gift.”  

“It’s probably because they had a special bond and were fated to be together.” Sanji scrunched his nose, lost in thought as he tried to make sense of the story his mother had just told him. 

“Mom?” 

“Yes, darling?” Sora looked up from the journal in her son’s hands with a gentle smile.  

He smiled back, happy that she was finally free of that illness that made her feel sick and tired all the time. Her blue eyes were not sunken anymore, and the dark circles that seemed permanently drawn on her lower eyelids were nowhere to be seen.  

She did look extremely pale, and her irises did not sparkle with the light of the candle that was next to the bed, but at least she didn’t look like she was going to pass out any second.

All that mattered was that his mom was finally healed and would soon be healthy enough to leave her room and teach him how to cook more complex dishes.  

For the time being, Sanji was happy to spend time with his mom reading and listening to old stories, like the one from the journal he had in his lap.

That particular diary was different from the others Sora had shown him before: some words were missing, and his mother insisted it was important she filled in the empty spaces for him so he could know what had happened to the two women in the story.  

She also said that among the many diaries she kept in a box, carefully hidden in her wardrobe, there was a piece of paper where her mother had tried to write the story after the diary was destroyed during a bad storm that had flooded their basement when Sora was still a child.  

Sanji could not understand why any of that was important, but his mom had insisted on telling him this story right after she came back from her surgery. He didn’t care much for the washed pages and the sad ending, all he wanted to do was spend some time with his mom and see her smile and laugh again. 

It had been so long since he had heard her tinkling laughter.

"What does fated mean?” Sora hummed in thought and reached out to move Sanji’s hair out of his eyes.  

For some reason, her touch felt colder than ever before, and every time she caressed his face, Sanji could feel his skin prickle while shivers ran down his arms and neck—it was as if someone had put a handful of snow under the collar of his shirt, and he could not stop trembling.  

Sora hummed again, seemingly lost in thought, and Sanji kept gazing at her thoughtful expression, briefly thinking that her blonde hair seemed almost white in the dim light, and that made her look like a snow princess or a beautiful fairy.  

After a long silent moment, she smiled, and his lips twitched up in return. He was so happy she was finally healed that his cheeks were starting to hurt after smiling so much.  

“Fated means that no matter what happened, they would have found each other. They were destined to be together.” Sanji’s face scrunched up again.  

“Do you mean that they had to fall in love? Even if they were both girls?” He asked uncertainly, the words of their teacher, who was also their pastor, echoing in his head.  

Sanji was always confused when the old man talked about the importance of having children and how loving another boy would be a sin. Boys were apparently supposed to grow up, fall in love with a woman, and have a big family so the community could grow, but that didn't explain why boys couldn't like boys or girls couldn't like other girls. Sanji didn't understand that, but he had long learned and accepted that it was wrong and forbidden.  

However, his mom had just told him the story of two women who loved each other, who were fated to be together, and who were connected even after death. And she kept smiling and talking like that was not wrong or against the rules.  

“Isn’t that a sin? Two girls being in love...” He added quietly, staring down at the stained pages.  

Sora’s smile faltered for a second, and then she leaned in, planting a kiss on his forehead. Shivers ran down his arms again, but Sanji barely noticed them as he smiled, warmth spreading in his chest as he sighed.  

“I don’t know if they had to fall in love. All I can tell you is that they were probably soulmates, which means that they were destined to have a unique bond, something stronger than death. Even if they hadn’t fallen in love, they would have still been connected in some way.”  

“And everyone has a soulmate? Do I get one?”  

“I’m not sure, my love. I think many people do have one, but soulmates are mysterious, and not many know of their existence. It’s rare to see such a bond between two people, and I can only hope you’ll be gifted with one.”  

Sanji nodded and glanced back at the journal. After a moment, he felt Sora treading her fingers through his hair and looked up, smiling back at his mom, who was looking at him with an odd expression twisting her beautiful features—she looked worried but also kind of sad.

He went back to reading the confusing words in the journal, basking in the feeling of his mother gently stroking his hair and almost lulling him to sleep. All of a sudden, he was assaulted by waves of sadness and grief and, for some reason, it felt like the emotions were not coming from inside his body. It was like standing in a storm with the raindrops drenching his clothes and seeping into his bones, making him shiver with a cold that was not actually his to feel.

Sanji felt confused and sad and worried, and he had the sudden urge to cry even though he didn’t know why.

He took a deep breath and looked up, a question on the tip of his tongue, when he noticed he was completely alone. He glanced around the room, confused by his mother's sudden disappearance, before shrugging and going back to reading the journal he was still holding.  

For some reason, he didn’t feel scared or worried about his mom vanishing between one blink and the next—somehow, he knew she was safe and sound and would probably come back soon enough.  

After a few seconds, a shiver ran down his spine, and Sanji looked up, smiling when his eyes met blue.  

“Are you feeling better now?”  

“Yes. I’m... healed. Kinda.”  

“That’s good! It means that I’ll be healed too, then.”  

Sanji watched a crease appear between his sister’s eyebrows. It was always weird seeing her face morph into such expressions because it made him wonder if his face also did the same when he was confused by something—nose scrunched, eyes narrowed, and brows dipped together.  

“What do you mean?” Sanji blinked and finally took in Reiju’s appearance.  

She didn’t look any different from before, even if he didn’t understand why she was still wearing that weird white dress—it was similar to what their mother wore all the time when she had to stay in the sick bay. It didn’t look very comfortable.  

“After he took you away to be cured, father said that I would be next. As soon as you came back.” Reiju’s blue eyes became impossibly big, and she suddenly fell to her knees, as if her legs had simply crumbled under her weight. Her lips parted in an expression Sanji had never seen on her face before—an odd mixture of sadness and worry and surprise.  

He blinked, lips open around a question, and in the next moment, Reiju was standing in front of the bed, something akin to anger shimmering in her irises.  

“You have to go. Now.” Her voice was low, and she briefly glanced over her shoulder, as if to assure herself that no one was standing at the threshold.  

“What do you mean? Go where?”  

“Away. Far away from here.” In the next blink, the journal slipped from his hands onto the floor, as if an invisible force had pulled it from his fingers.  

When Sanji raised his gaze from the fallen object to his sister, she was standing in the corridor, right outside the room. He blinked in confusion and then shook his head before getting up and blowing on the small candle—his mom always said it was important to never leave a candle burning if no one was going to be there to assure the room wouldn’t go up in flames.  

He made to walk out of the small bedroom and stopped at the door when Reiju raised one hand, worry twisting his guts when he noticed the serious expression on her face. It was the same expression she would get while listening to the pastor talk about how girls were destined to be nothing more than wives and mothers. It usually meant that she was trying to control the emotions hidden under the calm and collected surface of her lax face.  

After a few seconds, Reiju waved her hand and started leading him down the long corridor. There were no windows in this area of the compound, and the neon lights made the corridor look longer and creepier than he remembered.  

Sanji had never been allowed to leave the compound, but he knew his way around well enough to know that Reiju was using the longer route to get to the exit door that would lead them straight to the gates. Gates that, under no circumstances, they were allowed to overstep.  

“Why are we leaving? What’s going on?” He asked in a whisper as they hid in a supply closet to avoid someone walking by.  

“You cannot stay here anymore. It’s too dangerous.” Reiju didn’t look at him, and quickly left the small space. She kept rushing forward, stopping abruptly when distant, heavy steps echoed from somewhere behind them.  

She opened the nearest door, and Sanji followed her inside, confused by the chill air of the unknown room.  

Looking around, Sanji noticed a great number of small, squared doors neatly lined on a wall, a large metal table at the centre of the badly lit room, and a big lamp hovering a few centimetres over the surface that was clearly not empty. In fact, a sheet had been draped over whatever was laid on the table. 

“Where are we?” Sanji turned towards his sister, but she was too busy spying through the slightly ajar door to even hear his voice. 

Sanji turned back around and walked towards the table, curiosity winning over his fears and nerves as he wondered what was hiding under the pristine white sheet. He got on his tiptoes and grabbed one corner of the cloth, pulling it in one swift motion and revealing the corpse still laying on the autopsy table.  

“No, don’t!” His sister’s voice reverberated into his head, and Sanji took a step back, falling on his ass when he walked into a tiny stool he had failed to notice before.  

He turned his head towards his sister, and his eyes, adjusted to the dim light, finally took in her pale skin and the absence of light in her blue irises.  

“W-What...” He stood up on shaky legs and glanced again at the small body lying on the examination table. 

Reiju's skin was as pale as the sheet covering her, and she was clearly not breathing. Dead was the word that appeared in Sanji’s brain. 

“There’s no time now. You have to go, Sanji.” Sanji turned his head towards the spirit—his sister’s spirit—and he could barely see her through the tears filling his eyes.  

Her arm was stretched, as if she wanted to pull him away from there, but when he reached out to grasp her hand, his fingers passed right through hers, and cold shivers ran up and down his back, spreading all over his skin.  

“Y-You’re-”  

“What are you doing here?” The door opened, and light came pouring in.  

Sanji raised an arm to shield his eyes and then blinked up at the round man standing at the threshold. He had never liked Doctor Hogback—he was always laughing that weird creepy laugh after saying weird creepy jokes that no one found funny.  

“I-I...” Sanji gulped, trying desperately to come up with something, “I was going to the bathroom and got lost.”  

He almost winced at the awful lie, but the doctor either didn’t care about him snooping around or was stupid enough to actually believe him. Whichever the reason, Hogback glanced at the corpse—Reiju’s corpse—lying on the table and didn’t say anything, humming as he walked past Sanji to fix the sheet.  

“I can understand a young mind being fascinated with death. I was like you once.” The man said with a sigh, gaze lost somewhere on the wall filled with small doors.  

After a few silent moments, he shook his head and then put a hand on Sanji’s shoulder, guiding him out of the room and down the corridor, away from the main entrance.  

“Where are we going?” Sanji saw something pink at the corner of his eye, and when they turned down an unknown corridor, he noticed that Reiju had suddenly stopped walking beside them.  

“Well, we were looking for you because your father is ready for the procedure now.” Hogback’s tone was light, a laugh falling from his lips as he kept his hands firmly on Sanji’s scrawny shoulders. “You will be cured soon enough.”  

“No! Don’t go!” Reiju appeared right next to him, eyes wide and scared as she uselessly tried to grab his arm and pull him away from the man.  

Her hands kept passing through Sanji’s arms and torso, making him shiver, and her fear seemed to reverberate into his chest, constricting his lungs. He felt the urge to run as far away as possible from the doctor and from that place.  

“I don’t...I don’t think I want to do that.” Sanji murmured low while he uselessly tried to stop his legs as Hogback kept pushing him. But his strength was no match for a grown adult, and he could do nothing but put one foot in front of another, continuing down the darkening hall.  

“Well, you don’t have a choice.” The doctor’s tone changed, and his steps got faster, making Sanji almost trip on his own two feet.  

"Sanji! You have to run!” Reiju stopped walking, as if her feet got stuck to the ground the moment they turned the last corner.  

Sanji could feel the urgency in her voice, something cold closing around his heart as his body froze, reacting on instinct by crouching down and making the doctor trip over his small figure.  

“What are you-” He didn’t even look at Hogback as he fell with a curse, dashing back towards his sister, who was looking at him with a panicked face, one hand stretched as if she could pull him away from danger.  

A shadow suddenly appeared behind her, and she slowly glanced up while Sanji skidded to a stop right in front of Judge, who seemed to have materialised out of thin air. In the next blink, Reiju was gone, and Sanji was left alone with their father and Hogback, still lying on the ground and moaning in pain behind him.  

Judge glanced at the other man and then down at Sanji, who was looking up at him while uselessly trying to control his short breaths. He had never felt at ease in his father’s presence, cold always settling in his bones whenever Judge talked to him or simply glanced his way.  

However, he could not remember ever feeling so scared as he glanced at his father’s cold eyes. In the back of his mind, Sanji knew that whatever cure his father had given Reiju was part of the reason her body was now lying on a cold metal table.  

He knew that whatever they had done to his sister had killed her, and he also knew that they wanted to force him to undergo the same procedure—they wanted to cure him of his gift and didn’t care if he died in the process.  

As his brain finally started putting together the pieces, Sanji tried to hold back the tears, hands trembling by his sides. He bit his lip and closed his hands into tight fists, feeling his nails digging into his palms while he tried to hide his fear.  

For a moment, he thought about his mother’s cold touch and the way she had disappeared without actually moving from the bed. A tear fell down his cheek as realisation hit him.  

“Stupid boy.” That’s all Sanji heard before Judge’s hand collided with the side of his face.  

The slap echoed through the air, followed by the sound of Sanji’s head hitting the ground. He tried to blink away the haze, slowly sitting up and raising a hand to push back the hair from his eyes.  

His forehead was covered in sweat, and yet Sanji couldn’t stop shivering and trembling like a leaf. He had nowhere to run, and no one would come to help him. No one knew what was happening, and those who knew certainly didn’t care about his fate.

Judge was going to kill him. He was going to die and nobody would ever know.  

“You’re such a stupid, useless boy.” Sanji raised his eyes just in time to see the anger twist Judge’s face into a terrifying expression as he slapped him again.  

His vision turned black, and he lost consciousness. The next moment he reopens his eyes, he’s suddenly in a different body.  

Sanji sits up in his bed with a hand on his chest and a scream muffled behind the palm of the other, trying to make sense of his surroundings: he’s in his room, and somehow a repressed memory has slid into his unconscious, causing yet another nightmare.  

He lays back down, one arm draped over his eyes, while he slowly regains control of his erratic breathing. He then grabs his phone with a shaky hand and sighs when he sees that it’s the middle of the night—way too early for a walk in the park and a chat with an old friend.  

He turns to his side, tiredness winning over his fears as he lets himself get slowly dragged back into a deep slumber. He briefly wishes for a dreamless sleep, somehow knowing that such a foolish desire will never be granted.  

****   

The next time Sanji opens his eyes, it takes a few moments for his brain to understand what he’s seeing.  

“What the-” Sanji quickly slides away from the ghost smiling at him, back pressed into the wall as he pulls the covers up to his chest. He wonders if his heart is still inside his ribcage or if it started doing jumping jacks inside his skull.  

“You were mumbling in your sleep.” Zoro says with a smirk. He’s crouching next to the bed, head tilted to the side and eyes glimmering in the dark.    

Sanji gulps a couple of times, licking his dry lips as he tries to put order in his jumbled thoughts. He sits up with his back against the wall and runs a hand through his hair, pointedly ignoring Zoro’s eyes fixed on his face.  

“I think I had a nightmare.” He mumbles to himself, and Zoro makes a questioning noise, slowly standing up.  

“It certainly looked like that.” He says in agreement. “What was it about?”  

Sanji blinks and frowns, focusing his gaze on the golden earrings that sway slightly when Zoro cocks his head to the other side. Sanji knows he does that when he’s curious but doesn’t want to show it, resolving to tilt his head from one side to the other until his curiosity has been fed.  

As he blinks up at him, Sanji cannot help but notice that the pendants don’t reflect the sunlight like they used to do only two days ago. If he concentrates hard enough, he can see the waves drawn on the curtain through Zoro’s forehead.  

“I-I don’t know. I can’t remember anything.” Sanji huffs, annoyed by his own blank mind. He hides his face in his hands, rubbing his eyes as he sighs in frustration—he is also trying to avoid looking at Zoro’s eerie appearance that, for some reason, is making him feel like bursting into tears and gagging at the same time.  

“Oh. Okay.” Zoro says low, turning around and moving towards the window.  

In the span of a second, the curtain is pushed to the side and the sunlight barges in, inundating the room in a soft glow. Sanji groans, one hand raised to shield his eyes while the ghost chuckles at him.  

“Are you here for a reason, or did you simply want to give me another heart attack?” Sanji asks while blinking the white spots away from his vision.  

After the disastrous rendezvous with Luffy and his brothers, Sanji had walked back home and sat on the couch for an ungodly amount of time, simply staring at the ceiling while letting himself feel all the grief and pain that had been festering inside his chest since he had registered Sabo’s words.  

When his stomach stopped rumbling and his head started pounding, he decided it was time to make himself some dinner. Just as he started rummaging through the fridge to find some leftovers to reheat, Zoro suddenly appeared in his living room with a low “Hello”, startling Sanji and almost making him fall on his ass.  

The moment he stopped yelling at Zoro for the scare and heard no half-hearted insult directed his way, Sanji finally noticed that there was something wrong with him. Zoro stared at him with a lost look on his face, as if he were scowling at something behind Sanji, and he was clearly not hearing a word of what was being yelled his way.  

After a moment, Zoro blinked and then sat at the dining table, absently looking at Sanji as he silently resumed his search for something to quickly reheat in the oven.

Sanji cannot remember how it happened, but one moment there was a tense silence filling the air, and the next he was eating a quick dinner while chatting with Zoro.

They talked for hours about anything and everything—childhood memories, hobbies, professors they both loved and hated—and they laughed and chatted like two old friends who were catching up after years of no contact. And just like that, in the span of a few hours, they moved from barely knowing each other to being able to read each other's mood with a simple glance at tense shoulders or twitching lips. 

Sometime around one in the morning, Zoro suddenly looked at Sanji with glazed eyes and mumbled something about checking up on Luffy. And before Sanji could voice his surprise at the sudden change in mood, Zoro had already vanished, leaving him with a dirty dish, a half-smoked pack of cigarettes, and a weird sense of emptiness in his chest. 

And now here he is again, standing in his room as if nothing were amiss. As if they hadn’t suddenly become the best of friends after talking for hours while hiding from the rest of the world, laughing as they carefully skirted around the ugly truth hidden in Zoro’s lightless eyes and see-through body.  

Sanji tries to take a deep breath, heart clenching as he cannot help but think about how Zoro is slowly and inevitably slipping away from life, one step closer to death each day he spent aimlessly searching for an answer.  

He tries to shoo away the thought, taking in the small smile on Zoro’s face as the spirit steps closer to his bed. He crouches down once again, lowering to Sanji’s level and looking at his eyes with a pensive look, the smile quickly filling with an emotion that seems to be a mixture of sadness and longing and uncertainty.  

“I need a favour.” Sanji makes a questioning noise, raising a brow to show Zoro that he’s listening, “I want to go somewhere.” 

* 

“I have to say this is not what I imagined when you asked me to take you somewhere.” 

Zoro doesn’t answer and simply sighs with his eyes closed and a gentle smile on his face. Sanji can feel his whole body relax as he moves his eyes to the scenery in front of them, gaze lost on the horizon, where the blue sky seems to merge with the saltwater.  

For being a Saturday morning, the beach is surprisingly empty given the beautiful weather—but then again, it’s the first week of December, and not many would choose to go to the sea with such temperatures. Sanji shivers when a cold breeze sneaks under his coat, skin raising on his arms and back.  

They’re sitting in companionable silence on a small bench, the sound of the waves and the calls of seabirds reverberating in the winter air. Sanji closes his eyes, tipping his head back and letting the sun warm his skin while the smell of salt fills his nostrils and floods his mind with memories.  

The very first time he saw the ocean, he was with Zeff.  

He had been brought to the man’s house by the social services, and Zeff had spent a whole afternoon showing him pictures of when he was younger, probably to try and make Sanji feel less scared of the one-legged brutish man that had just become his guardian.  

For some odd reason, Sanji cannot recall ever feeling scared of Zeff. It had obviously taken a while to trust him with his past—years to share his eerie secret—but not once did he feel fear in the presence of the only man he has been able to call dad.  

That evening, while going through old albums full of pictures, Sanji had mindlessly asked—mouth full of the best paste he had ever had—why there was so much water behind the young man in the photo, which turned out to be one of Zeff’s oldest friends.  

Apparently Zeff had been made aware that Sanji had somehow been isolated from the world, but he had not imagined the extent of such reclusiveness. He had blinked at Sanji’s question, confused by the boy’s confusion as he uttered back the words sea and ocean and waves.  

The day after, Zeff brought him to the beach, and Sanji had fallen in love with the sounds and scents of water endlessly crashing against the rocks. He had stood for hours on the shore, running back and forth in an endless game of tag with the tide, saltwater lapping at his feet while he left prints on the wet sand and laughed for the first time in years. 

Despite the nostalgic and beautiful memories he has of this particular stretch of sand, Sanji has yet to understand why Zoro asked to be accompanied to such a place. 

It had taken almost two hours to get here by bus, and after a few minutes of walking and gazing at the empty beach, they had finally sat down on a wooden bench that must have been blue a few centuries ago.  

“I was with Kuina the first time I saw the sea.” Sanji opens his eyes and looks at Zoro, gaze lost somewhere between the past and the present as he stares at the horizon.  

“She was your friend. You two promised you would try to be the best and that you’d teach kendo.” Zoro’s lips quirk in a smile, and he briefly turns his head to nod his way.  

“You remember that.” His tone is coloured in surprise, and Sanji can feel a blush spreading on his cheeks as he pointedly looks at the sea.  

“Of course I do. You talked a lot about her last night.” He mumbles to himself, smiling when Zoro nods and chuckles low.  

There’s something odd now in the air between them. Something unspoken about the way they smile at each other, and Sanji knows it’s weird having to refrain from reaching out to try and feel if Zoro’s skin is cold to the touch. It’s like all sense of logic simply melts away from his brain when they’re together, as if nothing else matters but them being able to be together.  

All Sanji knows is that he has never felt like this before, as if he’s constantly fighting a magnetic pull that begs him to take one step closer—closer to Zoro and his smile and his beautiful grey eyes. He wants to raise his hand and find out if those green strands are as soft as they look and if those pendants are cold to the touch.  

A few days ago, Sanji didn’t even know Zoro’s name, and now he’s uselessly trying to think about how to save his life while ignoring the loud thumping in his chest whenever Zoro smiles his way.  

“I always liked the sea. It makes me feel so small.” Zoro breaks the silence once again, and Sanji turns to him with a frown that melts into a smirk.  

“You like feeling small? I thought you’d be the type of guy with a gigantic ego that cannot fit in a whole ocean.” Zoro turns his head to stare at him with raised brows. He then shakes his head with a smile, and Sanji pushes down his frustration at the lack of retort.  

Zoro keeps staring at the horizon and takes a long, deep breath, relaxing into the bench with a soft smile on his face. Sanji once again stops himself from reaching out, his hands closed into fists in the pockets of his jacket as he hides his mouth and nose in the raised collar.  

He shivers again and wonders why he agreed to go to the beach on a winter day.  

“What I mean is that...when I look at the sea, I always feel like I’m small, and my problems become small too. They’re insignificant compared to how vast the sea—the ocean is.” Sanji stares at Zoro’s profile and then nods with a low hum.  

After a few seconds, Zoro’s eyes get lost once again, but this time there is something different in his expression—something Sanji recognises with a shiver. It lasts only for a moment, and then Zoro blinks, taking a long breath as if trying to regain his bearings.  

“Where did you go?” Sanji inquires with a harsh tone, face scrunched in confusion when Zoro turns to him with fake naivety.  

“What do you mean?” The ghost asks back, arms crossed and eyes running away from Sanji’s inquisitive gaze.  

“I’ve seen Brook do that a couple of times. You went somewhere.” Sanji feels something cold bubble in his chest, an unpleasant sensation twisting his guts.  

“Who’s Brook?” Zoro wonders, confused.  

“A friend of mine. He died a long time ago, and he told me that sometimes, if he concentrates hard enough, his consciousness can split. He can basically be in two places at once.” Sanji sees the way Zoro grows uncomfortable with every word leaving his mouth, shuffling in his seat while pointedly looking at the waves getting bigger as they hit some distant, dark rocks emerging from the water.  

Silence stretches for a few seconds, and Sanji doesn’t even notice the old couple walking by behind them, glancing curiously at him while he seemingly talks to himself.  

“Zoro.” Sanji leans forward, forcing Zoro to lock eyes with him, “Where did you go?”  

Zoro sighs and seems to deflate—shoulders hunched, and lips pulled into a sad smile—as he whispers low, “I was just checking on my sister...She’s not doing well.”  

Sanji nods and bites his lip to stop himself from calling out the lie. There’s something in the way Zoro’s bottom lip twitches while his gaze runs away before going back to Sanji’s blue eyes, as if checking that he truly believes the half-assed explanation.  

He doesn’t know how, but Sanji knows that Zoro is not telling the truth. At the very least, not the entire truth. 

“I was going on a date.” The words are so unexpected that it takes a second for Sanji to understand that Zoro is talking about something else.  

“What do you mean?” He asks low, eyes fixed on Zoro’s smiling face.  

“The day I got jumped. I remember some glimpses, like foggy memories, and I know Sabo set me up on a blind date through a friend of his. That’s why I’m dressed like this.” He gestures with both hands at his own attire, and Sanji nods with a hum.  

“Makes sense.” He comments in a murmur, catching himself before he can let it slip that he already knew that. It was one of the few things Perona was able to share about the incident that had reduced her brother to a comatose, lifeless body.

Silence falls on them once again, broken only by the rhythmic sound of the waves and the wind whistling in his ears.  

Sanji tries to tuck his face better in the raised collar of his jacket, mentally berating himself for not having worn something warmer. In his haste to leave the house, he forgot to grab a scarf, and he can only hope he won’t catch a cold with this freezing wind sneaking under his clothes.  

“Why can I only feel your touch?”  

The change of topic is once again so abrupt that Sanji feels unmoored for a second, lost in his jumbled storm of thoughts. It takes him a few blinks to realise what the spirit is talking about, and the memory of Zoro’s motionless body wrapped up in gauze and connected to tubes and wires makes his breath hitch for a moment.  

“I don’t know. Maybe I’m not the only one.” Sanji shrugs.  

“You are.” Zoro’s voice is steady, but his tone is confused and a bit sad as he explains, “Yesterday they went there—Luffy, Ace, and Sabo—and I couldn’t feel any of them. I can’t even feel my sister holding my hand...But I can feel your touch.”  

Zoro bites his lip, and Sanji briefly wonders if there’s something Zoro is not sharing with him. The thought hurts for a moment, and then he takes a deep, steady breath, pulling out his cigarettes.  

He takes his time lighting a smoke and inhaling a few drags, forcing his mind to ignore the cold seeping through the skin of his hand and slithering under his sleeve, his arm trembling slightly.  

“I wish I had an answer, but I have no idea. I’m sorry.” He says after the prolonged silence becomes uncomfortable.  

The smoke that leaves his lips is washed away by the cold breeze, and when he glances at Zoro, there’s once again that glazed look on his face, eyes completely devoid of life and face completely lax before he blinks and comes back.  

Sanji keeps on smoking and lets the silence fall on them like a warm cover—a little too hot and uncomfortably itchy—before flicking off his spent cigarette and turning all his attention to the spirit.  

“Why did you ask me to bring you here?” He asks in a whisper, forcing the question out of his lips.  

For some reason, there’s something uncomfortable sitting in the pit of his stomach, the sensation that something bad is about to happen makes his skin itch and the hair on the back of his neck raise. Or maybe, hopefully, that’s the cold wind lapping at his nape.  

“Well, I don’t have a choice when you’re the only one I can talk to.” Zoro answers with an easy smile that Sanji cannot reciprocate.  

He simply hums in acknowledgment as he takes notice of the way the amused expression does not quite reach those deep, grey eyes. It’s like Zoro is putting on a show, trying to appear happy and calm and collected while hiding something that he doesn’t want to share.  

Grief is the first word that comes to Sanji’s mind as he tries to understand what emotion is actually hiding in Zoro’s spent irises.  

“I could have called Luffy and asked him to come here so you could follow him. It would be better for you to stay close to your anchor, or you’ll get fatigued after too much time away from him.” Sanji doesn’t know what he’s expecting from Zoro—maybe a witty remark or a tense silence or a simple noise of acknowledgement.  

But Zoro looks at him in confusion—brows raised and head slightly tilted to the side—like a child that has been asked to solve a complex equation made of numbers and letters weirdly merged together.  

He stares at Sanji for a long, quiet moment, and then he speaks, and Sanji doesn’t think there is a world where he could have anticipated Zoro’s words, tone laced with incredulity and doubt.  

“But Luffy’s not my anchor.” It sounds like half a question and half a statement, as if Zoro is not completely certain that what he just said is true.  

Sanji blinks. He opens his mouth and quickly closes it, words escaping his befuddled brain. Then he blinks some more, uselessly trying to make sense of what he thinks he just heard.  

He feels like he’s been slapped and punched at the same time, thoughts escaping his mind and breath blocked in his throat. 

“What?” That’s all he can muster after a few seconds as he stares at Zoro’s face.  

“You said...you said that an anchor is someone a spirit is connected to. After I go to sleep, or whatever happens when I get tired, I wake up next to this person because I’m linked to them, right?” Zoro seems just as confused as he is, and Sanji cannot understand what is going on.  

“Yeah. Yeah, that—that’s right.” He mutters low, waiting for Zoro to explain himself.  

“Then Luffy’s not my anchor.” Zoro shrugs, his voice steady, finally convinced of what he is saying.  

Sanji shakes his head, hand raised to aimlessly wave in the air, as if trying to conjure the right words. “Then who-”  

“You are.” Zoro answers before Sanji can formulate his question, and Sanji, feeling as if someone just punched him again—this time right in the solar plexus—can physically feel his jaw falling as he blinks at the spirit while trying to will his lungs to expand and keep on working.  

After a few moments, Sanji shakes his head and chuckles while Zoro frowns at him, wondering if he missed the pun to some joke he didn’t hear.  

“That cannot be possible. We didn’t...We didn’t know each other’s names before all this happened, and I was certainly not there when...” Zoro tilts his head, and Sanji glances at the earrings that sway slightly with the movement. He wonders if they used to chime with the wind and what kind of sound they would make. “Why would I be your anchor? It doesn’t make sense.”  

“I don’t know why, but the first time I woke up in this...form, let’s say, I was standing in your apartment. I didn’t know that was your living room until you showed me your place the other day.”  

The waves are growing stronger, and there’s a seagull flying somewhere over their heads, the sound of its call almost covering the roar of the sea. The beach is completely empty, and the sun shines high in the sky, but Sanji is blind and deaf to their surroundings.  

He keeps staring at Zoro and tries to make sense of his words, eyes wide and lips slightly parted as he takes a few deep breaths to steady himself.  

“I don’t know why I’m anchored to you.” Zoro adds with a shrug before turning his attention back to the ocean.  

“But why? Why me? Why...this makes no sense.” Sanji runs a hand through his hair, and Zoro turns to look at him with a small smile, grey eyes soft and warm.  

“It doesn’t, but we’re connected, and I thought...I was sure you knew.” Zoro frowns as he whispers the last part, his voice almost drawn out by the sound of the waves.  

It’s like the sea is growing angrier by the second, expressing the rage and confusion swirling inside Sanji’s body, and giving a voice to the whirlwind of thoughts and fears and doubts and hopelessness filling every cell of his being and every nook of his mind.  

He feels like a storm is tearing him from the inside, making every muscle ache as his heart pumps faster and faster, making the blood run to his head and pound under his skin. He cannot believe what Zoro has just told him, and he cannot make sense of this unexpected news.  

“That a spirit...That you are anchored to me? I would have told you if that were the case. I would...I don’t know, maybe I would have searched better for an answer.” Sanji can feel his insides twist as he runs a hand down his face before fixing Zoro with an incredulous look. “Why are we connected?”  

“I told you I don’t-” Zoro’s voice is cut off, and his eyes glaze over once again, face devoid of emotion as Sanji frowns at him.  

After a few seconds, he blinks awake and gulps, an uncomfortable look in his gaze—a sadness that makes Sanji feel the need to reach out and put an arm around his shoulders to pull him close and try to make him feel better. He wants to make him laugh, to erase the crease between his brows, and to make him cry tears of joy.  

“Where did you go?” Sanji asks once again, and Zoro shakes his head, biting his lip and looking down at Sanji’s hand, resting on the bench between them.  

Suddenly, he reaches out, and Sanji watches in amazement as Zoro’s fingers hover over the back of his hand, goosebumps running up his arm, down his back, and all over his body.  

“There’s something else you need to know.” Zoro’s voice is sombre, and he pulls his arm back. Sanji stops himself from trying to grasp the retreating hand and glances at Zoro, frowning at his expression—a wide smile with eyes full of tears ready to fall.  

In the little time he has gotten to know Zoro, he has seen him chuckle, laugh, shed a few sad tears, and even get angry as he recounted different memories from his past. However, Sanji cannot recall ever seeing him like this—calm, warm, and almost resigned to whatever he’s about to say.  

“What is it?” Sanji asks in a breath, chest constricting as he gulps down his worries.  

“Yesterday, at the hospital, the doctor said that the procedure had been moved. They won’t shut down the machines tomorrow.” Sanji doesn’t even think about how or why Zoro is aware of what is about to happen.  

Hope blooms in his chest, and it makes him go blind as he smiles and starts thinking about all the things they can try out now that they have more time. 

“Really?” Sanji says with a breathless chuckle, “But that’s great, we’ll have time to-”    

“Today.” Zoro interrupts him, “They’re doing it today.”  

Sanji feels ice fill his lungs, breath stolen by the pain and fear slapping him right in the face. He quickly springs to his feet, walking towards the beach, looking towards the rocks that keep being hit by the waves as they recede and come back. Over and over again, relentlessly.  

He turns around and stands right in front of Zoro, glaring down at his emotionless face as the ghost’s consciousness leaves once again to go who knows where. When he blinks awake, Zoro seems surprised to see Sanji looming over him, and he looks up, blinking confusedly at the angry expression on Sanji’s face.  

“What-”  

“Why didn’t you tell me? Why did you make me come here instead of going there to try-”  

“Try what?” Zoro’s voice is steady as he looks up at Sanji with a tired smile before waving around and continuing, “I’m tired of—of this. Not being alive, not being dead.”  

Sanji blinks away the tears from his eyes and takes a deep breath, fists clenched by his sides while he tries to reign in his raging emotions. Zoro is as calm as a gentle wind, and Sanji feels the breath being knocked out of his chest in front of his quiet resignation.  

“I just wanted to see the ocean one last time.” Zoro answers his previous question, “With you.”  

“What? Why me?” Sanji asks in a whisper, mind jumbled and lost. 

“I always wanted to ask you out, but I never got the guts to do it.” Zoro’s smile is so bright that Sanji has to physically take a step back, gulping at the revelation.  

“W-What?”  

“I just...I don’t know why, but I kept seeing you around and wanted to talk to you, but I...For some reason, I never did that.” Zoro’s face crumbles, and there is so much sadness and remorse in his eyes that Sanji stops short of reaching out one more time—he’s so tired of holding back. “I think this is the only thing I regret: not asking you out despite feeling this pull towards you, cook.”  

The pull. That concept is so foreign yet so familiar that Sanji has to stop himself from yelling 'Do you feel it too?!' . The weird need to step closer, the abnormal comfort in the other’s presence, and the ease of their words and behaviours that fit together like puzzle pieces.  

He feels like he has somehow, somewhen, stepped into Zoro’s magnetic field, and he’s getting tired of uselessly trying to pull away. Sanji absently leans forward and reaches out, hand stopping a few millimetres from Zoro’s cheek while the ghost closes his eyes in anticipation.  

“The only thing you regret...” Sanji murmurs low. Zoro’s lidded eyes seem to glow under the sun. “If you regret it, then fix it.”  

Sanji straightens his back with a small, tentative smile, and Zoro blinks up at him. He’s clearly confused by the sudden change in demeanour.  

“What?”  

“You’re not dead. Not yet. For some reason, we’re linked, and we can still try and find out a way to wake you up. You could still live, mosshead, and you shouldn’t give up now.” There’s a crease between Zoro’s eyebrows, and Sanji feels the urge to smooth it with his thumb.  

“It’s hopeless. There’s nothing we can do; it’s just a waste of time.” Zoro averts his gaze, and Sanji shakes his head.  

“No, it’s not. I don’t know how we’ll do it, but it’s not too late. You can...maybe you can try and lay into your body again.”  

“That didn’t work when-”  

“I know.” Sanji raises both hands, taking a deep breath to steady himself, “But maybe when they turn off the machines, you could try and-”    

“Why don’t you just give up?” Sanji’s hands fall to his side as he takes in Zoro’s crestfallen expression.  

He looks angry and sad and so hopeless it makes Sanji’s heart ache. He wants to hug him, stroke his hair, and whisper into his ear that everything will be alright. He wants to say it again and again, until they both start believing it.  

“What do you mean give up? Why are you giving up?” Zoro doesn’t answer him, mouth half open around an answer when he gets lost somewhere else—eyes glazed and dark.  

“Almost time.” The words slip from his lips while he blinks awake, and Sanji’s eyes widen, realisation hitting him like a train.  

“Now?!” He half-yells, taking a step back when Zoro’s face hardens, “They’re doing it right now?!”  

“In an hour. Maybe two.” Zoro answers in a whisper as he stares at Sanji with something akin to remorse, “They’re sorting out all the necessary documents, and there are some...issues with that.”  

Sanji takes a deep breath, then another. He turns around, looking at the roaring waves and inhaling the salty air, before turning to his right and dashing down the street.  

He runs as fast as he can, thinking about when he was thirteen and spent a whole afternoon running away from bullies after he got caught seemingly talking to himself. He was fast and always managed to outrun them whenever they got bored and were looking for a punching bag.  

“Where are you going?” Zoro appears next to him, running—no, gliding over the ground. It’s like he’s flying by Sanji’s side while he quickly runs around pedestrians and almost gets hit by a car when he crosses the street with the light red.  

“Saving your life...I’m gonna—gonna stop you from dying.” Sanji answers in between heavy breaths as he hops on the bus right before the doors close behind him.  

Zoro frowns at him, and in the next blink he’s gone. A teenage girl looks at Sanji with her eyebrows raised before putting on her headphones and turning back around, probably confused by his words.  

The bus starts, and Sanji reaches out to hold on before he can fall to his face. His legs feel like jelly, and he tries to calm down his racing heart while hoping that his chest won’t burst open.  

As he looks at the distant waves melt with the blue sky, Sanji can almost feel a clock start ticking in the back of his head—a countdown he’s not sure he will be able to beat.  

Yet he knows that he has to try. 

Chapter Text

There are moments in which Sanji wonders if there is a God, or some other entity, sitting in the sky and watching over the world while deciding everyone’s fate. He imagines this all-knowing and all-seeing being as someone who plays with them the way a child plays with dolls—creative in finding new ways to make them suffer and never soft enough to ease their pain.  

In those particular moments, his riddled memory sometimes decides to act up and bring back to his mind flashes of scraped knees after hours spent kneeling in line next to other kids, of tingling fingers as they held onto the wooden beads of a rosary, lips silently moving to imitate the words that came out of the pastor’s mouth.  

Whenever someone talks about faith and God and believing, all Sanji can think about are the jumbled memories of his made-up lies whenever he was asked to repent for his sins and the pain making his legs tremble as he got up to get his blessings after reciting prayers he did not quite understand and never fully memorised.  

Wooden beads, scraped knees, confusion, and prayers. And fear. The fear of being punished for doubting the stories they were told about miracles and sins and talking snakes. The lung-constricting fear of being caught while admiring other boys the way he admired girls.  

After being taken away from that place, it took years for Sanji to be able to walk past a church without physically recoiling or hurrying his steps. He refused to talk to anyone about what his childhood was like, and he never lingered too long on the thought of religion and faith and what it all meant to him.  

But now, for the first time since he was eight, Sanji finds himself muttering a prayer under his breath, eyes closed, and heart thumping loudly in his chest. He silently asks whoever is watching to give him a little more time, to free the roads, to make the bus go faster, to slow down the doctors.    

To soften their heart enough to give Zoro just one more chance at life.   

He hops onto the second bus after dashing down the street and almost knocking over a woman who was walking by with her hands full of groceries. The doors close, and he sighs, taking a deep breath and mouthing a thanks as he looks up, hoping that whoever is looking will grant him this one miracle.  

After all, he has never asked for anything. He has suffered and lost and never once asked anyone—let alone God—for help. And he doesn’t know why he feels compelled to hope and pray right now, but he knows that he has to try his hardest to save this one life—a life that, for some reason, means everything to him.  

Now that he has more pieces to solve this riddle, he could probably read those old journals with new eyes and find something that would shed some light on what is going on with Zoro. Or maybe he could talk to Brook, the most knowledgeable person he knows when it comes to life-and-death situations, and wait for the spirit to discover a way for Zoro to go back to his body.

Sanji knows he can do it, if only they could be granted more time.  

The bus abruptly stops at a red light, and Sanji raises his arm to grab the handrail over his head, regaining his balance as he slides out of his thoughts.  

He finally notices the vibration against his leg and puts his other hand in his pocket, taking out his phone and frowning at the name on the display.  

He answers and brings the phone to his ear while the bus abruptly starts again, his grip tightening to keep himself from falling over. Whoever is driving this vehicle seems to be in a hurry to finish their shift and go back home.  

“Hey! I called you like a thousand times, why didn’t you answer?” Nami’s tone is angry, but Sanji can hear the hidden worry laced in her words.  

He smiles to himself as he takes a few deep breaths and tries to organise his confused thoughts.  

“I was busy. Did something happen?” The bus stops, and the doors open.  

Sanji steps to the side to let an elderly man pass and get off, eyes lingering on the people getting on and off the bus.  

“I need to tell you something important. I met Vivi for breakfast, and you won’t believe what I found out. This is spooky, like...really spooky.” There is awe in her voice, but Sanji can feel that she’s not happy about whatever she discovered on her breakfast date. She sounds worried and scared and confused. 

“What is it?” Sanji asks low, biting his lip as he listens to her steps echo through the receiver.  

There’s a huff, and he can imagine Nami flopping down on her couch, a strand of hair anxiously twirled between her fingers as she talks with her head tilted back to stare at the ceiling.  

“Do you remember that I asked Vivi to help me set you up with someone for a date a while back?” Sanji rolls his eyes and holds back a groan at the memory.  

“Of course I remember. The date that never showed up and left me waiting in a restaurant for hours. Very charming.” He huffs sarcastically, eyes looking out of the window to catch sight of the hospital.  

“Well, I never asked Vivi who this person was, and I...I hope you’re sitting down for this one, Sanji.” There’s something wrong with the lilt of her voice, and Sanji briefly wonders if she’s holding back tears when a shaky breath fills his ear.  

“What’s wrong? You sound extremely upset.” When the bus stops again, Sanji moves his phone to his other ear, switching his hold to ease the stiffness in his arm.  

“It was Zoro.” For a moment, Sanji wonders if he has imagined the words, and he takes a deep breath, fingers tightening around the phone

“I’m sorry, what did you just say?” There’s a heavy sigh coming from the other end of the line, and Sanji blinks, wondering why his legs suddenly feel like blocks of concrete while his feet start tingling, nailed to the ground.  

“After Vivi and Ace broke up, she kept in touch with Sabo, Ace’s brother, and they’re still good friends. They somehow convinced Zoro to go on a date with you, but he didn’t know it was you.” There’s more shuffling on the other side, and Sanji tries to take a deep breath while Nami’s words slowly sink into his brain.

“You mean that-”

“He was coming to see you the night he got jumped, when he...Sanji, I’m so sorry.” Her words echo in Sanji’s mind, and there’s a ring in his ears, arm lowering while he gazes out of the window, unable to see whatever is happening around him.  

He remembers that night, filled with the anxiety of going on his very first blind date—his very first date with a man.  

Of course, Sanji had dated people before—a few walks in the park here and a few dinners there—but nothing ever stuck in the long term. When you see ghosts wandering around everywhere you go, it’s hard to concentrate on a movie or whatever your date is telling you.  

Another thing Sanji remembers from that night was how nervous he felt when Nami told him when and where the date would take place. His stomach had immediately closed up while his mind raced with ideas regarding the outfit he could wear and what his date was going to look like. 

But he was also excited, and he can almost feel the giddy sensation that made his whole body tingle as he sat in the quaint little restaurant, waiting for his mysterious date to show up. All Sanji had been told was that it was a guy his age, and he had waited for hours, straightening up every time a young man entered the small restaurant. He can still feel the disappointment and embarrassment that twisted his stomach when the waitress brought him the bill, accompanied by a sad smile and a pitiful gaze.  

He had been angry and furious and also extremely sad to have been stood up by a total stranger. After that horrible evening, he spent a whole day complaining to Nami, who was just as puzzled as him about the identity of his date.  

And while he complained and cussed him out, said mysterious date was actively dying and coming back to life after being gutted alive and left on the street to a painful and horrifying death.  

Because Zoro  had been killed on his way to a date. He was supposed to meet Sanji, but instead he had encountered death on his path.

This is just more evidence of the fact that everyone who crosses paths with Sanji is automatically assigned a miserable destiny by whoever is playing dolls with them.  

Maybe Sanji should find a way to cut ties with Nami and Usopp and spare them the pain. Maybe he should hide somewhere, isolate himself from everything and everyone, and stop hurting the people he loves and cares for.  

“-the next one?”  

A soft voice breaks through the ringing in his ears, and Sanji snaps out of his clogged mind, blinking and looking at the people around him.  

“I’m sorry, are you getting off at the next stop?” He turns his head and looks at the girl standing behind him, blonde braids falling on her shoulders and brown eyes looking up at him in a mixture of curiosity and concern. She tilts her head to the side and smiles, patiently waiting for an answer.  

Sanji looks around at the other passengers and wonders when the bus got so full. He then turns back towards the girl with a frown, his hand tightening around the handrail as the bus comes to a stop.  

“I-I don’t know. I need to get to Drum Hospital.” His own voice sounds far away, and he licks his dry lips as he tries to get his bearings.  

The girl’s smile widens slightly, and then she jerks her head towards the window, “This is Drum Hospital. I also need to get off here.”  

“Oh, okay. Thanks.” He answers in a murmur as the doors finally open.  

Sanji quickly follows the mass of people getting off the bus, and when the bus leaves, he turns around and smiles at the blonde girl. She nods his way, and then he sprints towards the entrance door of the hospital.  

Between one step and the other, Sanji suddenly remembers his conversation with Nami, and when he looks down at the hot device clutched in his hand, he notices that the call is still ongoing. He bites his lip and brings the phone to his ear.  

“-ou alright? Please just-”  

“I’m fine!” He quickly interrupts Nami’s worried rumble, and he can feel the relieved sigh reverberate through his body.

“Oh, thank fuck. I thought you fainted or got sick or-”  

“Nami, thank you for telling me, but I don’t have time to process all of that right now.” He cuts her off again, looking up at the grey building before making his way past a couple of nurses who are chatting right in front of the entrance door, “I need to stop the doctors from unplugging Zoro’s life support, which may happen any moment now. I’ll text you later.”  

“Wait, wha-” He hangs up and pockets his phone, hot against his thigh, as he quickly makes his way down the corridor.  

He walks fast, and his vision narrows down, stomach twisting while his lungs burn. His mind uselessly tries to think about what to say and what to do once he reaches his destination, but he keeps coming up blank every time he imagines Zoro’s body lying on that white bed, unresponsive and dead.  

“Fuck.” The elevator’s doors close on his face, and Sanji runs a hand through his dishevelled hair, looking around for another way up.  

He quickly finds the door to the staircase and runs, taking them two at a time while mentally praying to whoever is listening to give him a bit more strength—just a few more steps.  

Sanji bursts into the corridor and hurries towards the room he visited only a few days ago. When the door loudly hits the wall, they all turn towards him, and Sanji braces his hands on his knees, trying to gulp down some air when he notices that the machines are still beeping, Zoro’s chest moving up and down in rhythm with the ventilator.  

As he scans the room, his eyes quickly find Zoro’s spirit, standing between Perona and a tall man with greased black hair and a weird goatee. He sighs and runs a hand through his sweaty hair, smiling slightly at the thought that he arrived just on time. He still has a chance to stop this madness.  

“And who are you, young man?” Sanji turns his attention towards the black-haired man, quickly taking notice of Perona’s red-rimmed eyes.  

She looks like a different person from the one he met a couple of days ago: there is no trace of make-up on her face, and she’s dressed in a dark green sweater that’s three sizes too big and a pair of black sweatpants, as if she rushed to the hospital after a sleepless night without having time to change.  

The next thing Sanji notices is that Perona is shaking like a leaf, recognition washing over her face when they lock eyes.  

“Sanji, what...what are you doing here?” Sanji tries to answer, but a wheezing breath escapes his lips, and he raises a hand to cover a cough before licking his dry lips and trying to take control of his erratic breathing.  

He should definitely think about exercising more. He’s too out of shape for running so much in jeans with a heavy jacket on his shoulders.  

“You know him?” Perona nods at the man standing next to her, eyes wide as she stares at Sanji.  

“He’s Sanji, one of Zoro’s friends. H-He came to visit the other day.” A crease appears between her brows, and she quickly wipes her eyes with the back of her hand. “What are you doing here?”  

"Leave, cook. Turn around and leave.” Sanji moves his gaze from Perona to Zoro, who’s standing right behind his sister. His face is hard, but Sanji can see the storm of emotions battling in his eyes.

“You can't do it. He’s not...he’s not dead.” Sanji moves towards the bed, walking around a couple of doctors and standing right next to Zoro’s body.  

"Don’t...Just don’t.” Sanji takes Zoro’s cold hand into his own and looks up at the spirit, watching his mask crumble as he closes his hands into fists. 

Sanji knows he can feel his touch, and he looks so torn between ignoring the feeling and the need to sigh in relief at being able to feel anything at all. Sanji has never imagined how lonely and scary it must be for spirits to exist in a world they cannot touch or feel. No one to talk to, no one to lock eyes with, no one to acknowledge your presence.  

“It’s too late, boy. They will proceed now.”  

“Father, don’t-”  

“Perona. We talked enough, and we both know your brother wouldn’t want to live like this. We have to let him go.”  

Sanji watches the exchange with curious eyes. He sees the way Perona’s shoulders sag, the same way Zoro’s do as he turns his head to stare at a wall. 

Sanji feels a shiver run down his back when he notices the golden halo surrounding Zoro’s frame. He holds back the tears and squeezes Zoro's hand, their eyes locking when the spirit looks up at him.

“He had a date.” His voice breaks the eerie silence, and Sanji forces himself to keep looking at Zoro’s confused face. “When he was assaulted, he was going to a restaurant for a date.”  

“Yeah, we know that.” Perona’s voice is barely a whisper, and she quickly dries off some stray tears before looking at Sanji with furrowed brows. “We talked about it when-”    

“He was going on a blind date.” Sanji continues, letting the words fall from his lips before his brain can think twice about them, “He was coming, and I sat in that restaurant waiting for hours, thinking that he stood me up.”    

Zoro’s eyes widen, and his lips part in surprise. “You mean-”  

“I was his date. I just found out that we had some commonf friends who arranged it, and I...I feel like it’s fate. We are connected because we were always supposed to meet. But then this happened and this...it’s not over yet. It can’t end like this.”

“How?” Sanji moves his attention to Perona, who slowly steps closer to the bed, taking hold of Zoro’s other hand. “The tests didn't work, and they say he’s...his brain...”  

Sanji shakes his head and looks up at Zoro, who’s standing right next to Perona. “I think he has a chance. I believe there’s still a chance.”  

“I can see it, cook.” Sanji’s face falls as the halo around Zoro’s body grows brighter. “That’s...it's where I grew up. Where I first met Kuina.”  

Zoro turns his head towards the wall, lips bent into a smile that’s so beautiful and full of peace and longing.

“Please, come back.” Zoro’s smile falls and the light recedes as he glances at his sister, her voice breaking into a sob that she tries to stifle behind her palm, “I still need my annoying little brother.”  

“Perona...”  

“I want to go on that date.” Zoro’s eyes snap at him, and Sanji smiles, letting the tears fall from his stinging eyes. “When you wake up, I wanna go on that date and eat together and get to know each other. I refuse to believe we were not fated, mosshead. I can feel it. We were always meant to be.”  

“Perona, come on. It’s time.” Perona’s father gently grabs her shoulders, and she starts sobbing again while he gently pulls her a few steps back. She covers her mouth with both hands, uselessly trying to suppress the sobs that fill the silent room.

“It’s time to proceed.” A doctor puts a hand on Sanji’s shoulder, pulling him away from the bed. He tightens his hold around Zoro’s hand, chest constricting and eyes burning with hot tears.   

“No, no, you can’t—there’s still hope. He can still-” Sanji tries to push the doctor away from him, and he distantly hears someone talk about calling security.  

“Cook, give up. There’s nothing you can do now. It’s too late.”  

Sanji is pulled away from the bed by a nurse, and Zoro’s hand slips from his hold as he looks up, trying to locate the spirit. He can feel his heart thumping in his ears when he notices that Zoro is standing further away from the bed, one step away from the wall opposite the bed. He's surrounded by a soft golden halo that makes him glow like the sun.  

There’s a smile on his face, so gentle and full of pain, but all Sanji can do is shake his head, vision blurred and sobs escaping his lips.  

He’s forced to step back and watch the doctors and nurses talk as they start pushing buttons and unhooking the machines from Zoro’s still body. Panic grips his lungs, and Sanji stumbles to the side, almost falling to the ground. But there’s something cold around his arm, stopping him from tumbling over, and when he looks down, he’s surprised by the strong hand holding him upright.  

“Cook.” Sanji closes his eyes and shakes his head, a cold palm cupping his cheek and forcing him to tilt his head up while stroking away the tears from his damp skin. “I have to go.”  

Sanji shivers, and he can almost feel Zoro’s breath against his face, his lips tingling. He distantly hears the doctors turn off the machines, the ventilator stopping while Perona cries in her father’s arms.  

“It’s not your time yet. T-There are so many things to do...it cannot...Please.”  

Sanji opens his eyes and reaches out, closing his fingers around Zoro’s wrist and raising his other hand to fist the collar of Zoro’s shirt. The spirit seems taken aback by the touch, and Sanji sees his calm smile falter for a second.  

“I think...maybe you need to want it, Zoro. You have to want to live. Please, you have to come back. Please.”  

“I don’t-”  

“Do you want to live?” Zoro gulps at the question, lips open around an answer as he turns to glance at his lifeless body. The heart monitor beeps a couple of times before the sound of the flatline fills the eerie silence.    

Zoro turns his head to Sanji and leans in, gently kissing him and stealing his breath for a long moment. Then he tilts his head back and looks at Sanji’s wide eyes and smiles, grey irises full of sadness and so, so bright. 

The golden halo around Zoro’s head becomes brighter, and Sanji cannot help but wonder if this is what angels look like when they grace humans with their presence—bright, gentle, and ethereal. If staring into the eyes of an angel is a sin, then he will gladly burn in hell for the rest of eternity.

“Thank you, cook. For everything.” Zoro kisses Sanji’s temple before turning around and walking away. 

Sanji raises a shaky arm, lips open to call his name when the light grows impossibly bright, enveloping Zoro’s spirit and forcing him to take a step back, one hand raised to protect his eyes from the golden sun that has appeared in the room.  

He hears Perona’s wailing, the doctors muttering and talking as they write down the time of death, and Sanji physically collapses. He falls to his knees, tears streaming down his face as he stares at the motionless body on the bed, finally free of tubes and wires.  

A dead body that’s not breathing, moving, or waking up.

He has failed. Zoro was right here and he died and Sanji failed him.    

The continuous beeping of the flatline makes something itch in Sanji’s brain, a headache slowly pounding behind his burning eyes as he stares at the dead body—Zoro’s dead body—unable to think or blink or breathe. 

Then the beeping changes, and one of the doctor immediately stops talking.  

“What-”  

“It cannot be.”  

They all step back from the bed while Perona wriggles out of her father’s embrace, dashing forward.  

“Oh my god!”  

Someone gasps while Sanji licks his dry lips as he stares at Zoro’s chest, quickly moving up and down under the thin cover.  

“Zoro, hey, look at me. Come on, open your eyes.” Perona’s voice sounds so far away, as if echoing from another reality, and Sanji watches with bated breath as Zoro’s visible eye flutters open.  

Zoro turns his head slightly to the side, and when their gazes lock, Sanji starts breathing again, falling back on his ass like a puppet with cut strings. A wet chuckle tumbles from his lips while Perona and the doctors crowd the bed, hiding Zoro from his view as he tries to regain control of his burning lungs.  

Sanji hides his face in his quivering hands, and he can barely hear the sound of the voices and hurried steps filling the room. Someone calls his name, and gentle fingers wrap around his wrists, forcing his hands away from his flushed face.  

Big brown eyes look at Sanji with veiled worry, and he tries to understand what the person is telling him, gaze drawn to a blue smudge on the guy’s nose—maybe ink or paint.  

Suddenly, the stranger with the blue nose pulls him to his feet and ushers him out of the room, one arm around his back and the other tight around his forearm. Once they step out, Sanji turns to stare through the open door, eyes immediately finding Zoro’s face as he looks at the various people hovering over him, confused by the doctors prodding at his body and asking him questions.  

He looks tired and confused and irritated by the attention, but, more than anything, he is awake, alive, and breathing.  

“-re you alright?”  

The ringing in Sanji’s ears finally subsides, and he turns towards the person who’s still holding him upright—the two strong hands curled around his forearms are the only thing keeping him from tumbling back to the ground as his legs shake under him.  

After a few blinks, he finally recognises the brown eyes and chestnut hair and slender face, taking in Chopper’s worried expression as he repeats his question.  

“Are you feeling alright? Is your head spinning? Can you take a deep breath for me?” Sanji smiles and nods, taking a deep breath, and then turns once again to look at Zoro, who’s tiredly smiling at his wailing sister.  

Chopper follows his gaze and takes a deep breath, a small smile melting on his lip as he slowly softens his hold on Sanji’s arms.  

“It’s like cherry trees blossoming in winter.” He whispers with a sigh.  

“What?” Sanji frowns and turns his confused gaze to the intern.  

Chopper's smile widens, and he shakes his head with a low chuckle. He looks incredibly young, with his curly hair all tussled, big brown eyes glimmering with mirth, and his small nose smudged with blue paint. He smiles, and for a moment, he seems to be glowing under the neon lights.  

“This is a miracle.” He explains with a shuddered breath.  

Sanji finds himself smiling back, face softening as they both turn to look at the cramped room. Zoro is nodding at something the doctor is telling him, and, for a quick moment, he turns to look at Sanji, as if he could feel his blue eyes fixed on his face.    

“Yeah, it really is.”  

** Four months later ** 

...Even now, after extensive research, I still do not understand what happened in that room.

Zoro’s spirit vanished in a burst of light, as it usually happens when ghosts step into the Beyond (it has to be noted that the light was much brighter than I had ever witnessed before). After the light disappeared and I could finally see what was happening, I noticed his motionless body lying on the hospital bed while the doctors declared him dead. I was sure his spirit had stepped into the Beyond. However, after a few seconds passed, Zoro started breathing again without the aid of the machines, and he suddenly woke up, startling all the people who were present and causing a great number of doctors to become immediately interested in his case. No one could scientifically explain how a person who had been declared brain dead and was unable to breathe on his own could suddenly wake up, and it took many tests to ensure that Zoro’s brain and body were not severely damaged.

I was soon ushered outside, and for many days I only received news of Zoro’s conditions through his friends who were in contact with his sister. We were told he was forced to undergo many exams and medical procedures to ensure whether or not his body would recover and how long it would take. After a few weeks, the doctors allowed Zoro to receive visits, and I decided to go and check up on him. Although my decision to visit was mostly dictated by the need to assure myself that Zoro was indeed alive and on his way to a full recovery, I also needed to ask him a few questions about what had happened in those few moments between the disappearance of his spirit and his waking up from the coma.   

When I first entered the hospital room, I was greeted by Zoro’s sister, who had apparently seldom left his side since he had opened his eyes. When I arrived, Zoro was sleeping, and after he woke up and finally acknowledged my presence, it was clear he was confused and disoriented. I greeted him and asked him about his health, but I immediately noticed that he did not recognise me. He turned to his sister, asking about my name and the reason for my presence in his room, wondering aloud about the ‘blond stranger’. As far as I could understand from our brief encounter, Zoro had no recollection of ever being a spirit, which meant he had no memories of all that had happened between our first meeting and his miraculous awakening.   

It’s been almost three months since I visited Zoro, and I have not heard from him or his sister ever since. However, I am still in contact with his friends, and the last time I heard from them—a couple of days ago—Zoro had finally been sent home, and, despite still having a long journey with physical therapy and mental health counselling, he’s apparently back to his old life. The doctors seem surprised by the resilience of his body and the short time it took Zoro to recuperate his mobility, and some of them have apparently asked Zoro permission to study his case. Knowing him, I doubt he would be willing to become a guinea pig.   

I hope the recording of this case will help anyone who will find themselves in a similar situation.   

Sanji puts the cap back on the pen and closes the notebook. He then sighs, grabbing the lukewarm coffee while his eyes scan the small cafe.  

It’s a quiet Sunday morning, and the Thousand Sunny has been open for only a couple of hours—Sanji knows that because Robin had been extremely nice and let him inside when she arrived to open for breakfast.  

Sometimes, his nights are still plagued by weird, confusing nightmares that disappear as soon as he wakes, leaving a sense of displeasure and confusion in his mind. When that happens and sleep eludes him, he gets out on long walks and brings his journal along, trying to find enough motivation to record Zoro’s case.  

Putting this story on paper suddenly reminds him that it really happened. For weeks, it felt like he was walking in a dream-like state: studying, attending lessons, and working while the world kept spinning, despite something inside his chest being irreparably damaged.  

It had taken him months to come to terms with the fact that Zoro had forgotten him, but sometimes Sanji is not entirely sure that his mind has actually accepted that as a fact. It’s like one of those nightmares that he forgets about—the lingering sensation of a word on his tongue that he knows it’s there but that he cannot quite grasp.

There are mornings when Sanji wakes up and doesn’t remember about the ghost that was bonded to him, and then something reminds him of Zoro’s absence and his lingering presence. It may be a message from Ace, or Sabo, or simply walking by a gym, or attending a lesson and spotting Luffy’s hat in the crowd. Even looking at the sky on a rainy day reminds him of Zoro. Sometimes, Sanji can barely stand looking at the colour of the leaves sprouting on the trees or the way the sunlight dances across Nami’s new golden pendants.    

His feelings are something Sanji has been avoiding ever since he left that hospital room with his heart in the bottom of his shoes and tears stubbornly making their way down his cheeks. Like many other things, he has decided that whatever has bloomed in his chest will simply wither away with time, and all he has to do is ignore it.  

Plants always die when he forgets about their existence, so the same must work for love too, right?  

At times, if he closes his eyes long enough, he can picture the look on Zoro’s face when they first locked eyes in that hospital room: nose scrunched in confusion, brows drawn together, and his one visible eye filled with confusion and wariness.  

“It’s Sanji. He came to visit you a few days before you woke up.” Perona’s voice had been gentle in the face of Zoro’s befuddlement, a crease appearing between her thin brows as she gifted Sanji a sad, apologetic look.  

“I don’t know him.” Zoro’s words were like ice on Sanji’s skin, and he had to force himself not to recoil as he smiled at the man.  

He looked pale and extremely thin, and Sanji knew that sitting up and speaking to him was surely taking a toll on his body.  

“Well, we actually don’t know each other well. We have a couple of classes together, and I became friends with Luffy in the past few weeks.” Sanji had scratched his sweaty neck as he took a solid step backwards. He had to concentrate to hold back the whimper that was clawing its way up his throat.  

Zoro had only hummed in acknowledgment and then mumbled something about being tired despite having just woken up from a very long nap.  

After leaving the small hospital room, Perona apologised profusely about her brother’s behaviour, and Sanji brushed it off by saying that Zoro probably didn’t remember him because they had never been close in the first place.  

Sanji can still feel his chest constricting as he thinks about that lie, as if he didn't know the way Zoro's eyes would crinkle when he laughed or how his eyes would light up when he talked about his friends. But the words had quickly fallen from his lips while he watched the exchange from another point of view, his mind slowly floating away from his body.  

He had walked home in that same state of mind, letting the cold air seep into his bones while hot tears streamed down his face.  

Obviously, Sanji had told his friends everything about what had happened, and he had asked Luffy and his brothers to forget about their disastrous conversation. It had taken a few hot chocolates to convince Luffy it would be better for Zoro if no one reminded him he had been literally dead for a whole month.  

In the back of his mind, Sanji knew he was supposed to be happy that Zoro had forgotten about the uncanny experience of being stuck between life and death. Remembering it would have only added to the already long list of traumatic experiences he has to work through.  

However, Sanji had met, become friends with Zoro, and then lost him all in less than a week. And he would certainly never forget about it. How could he bring himself to forget the look in Zoro’s eyes as they talked with the waves roaring in the background? That smile and that beautiful expression of pure happiness and peace will forever be etched in Sanji's mind like a scar—a pain that will one day fade, leaving him with a tale and an aching wound that will never actually stop hurting.

As he takes a gulp of his coffee, Sanji grimaces at the cold, sour taste in his mouth. He cannot remember if he put sugar or not before sitting down and losing himself in his journal.  

Shrugging, Sanji downs the rest of the bitter liquid in one go, putting his small notebook and the pen back in his bag before rising from his seat and heading for the exit. With the empty cup in hand and the bag over his shoulder, he beelines for the bin next to the cashier, head down and mind lost in thought as he wonders whether or not he should read and edit again what he has just finished rewriting for the umpteenth time.  

He doesn’t notice the person standing at the counter, clearly waiting for someone to get his order. Sanji raises his eyes from the ground just in time to see the man stepping back to take a better look at the list of drinks on the wall. He tries to avoid him, their shoulders almost bumping and eyes meeting when the stranger turns to shoot him an annoyed glance at almost having been hit.  

The annoyance gives way to surprise, and Sanji cannot tear his eyes from the vertical scar across Zoro’s left eye while the man gapes at him. His surprised expression quickly melts into a grin, and Sanji’s heart definitely does not skip a beat.  

“You’re curly guy.” Zoro’s voice is low and filled with recognition, and Sanji feels like breaking down and crying. He didn’t know it was possible to miss a person’s voice so much.  

“I-I...what?” Sanji blinks up at Zoro.  

“You’re in accounting with Professor Rayleigh, right?” Sanji nods, and Zoro’s smile widens, left hand unconsciously raising to his left eye, “You came to visit me in the hospital after I woke up.”  

His words are barely a whisper, and Sanji focuses his attention on Zoro’s right eye, confusion mixed with curiosity glimmering in his grey iris. The colour of the clouds has never glimmered like that.  

“Well, I...Yes, I did. I’m glad to see you’re up and about.” Sanji hopes his tone is cheerful enough to hide the fact that he can barely breathe. A knot is slowly closing up his throat, making it extremely difficult to fill his chest with air.  

“Yeah, it’s good to go back to an almost normal life.” Zoro beams at him while Sanji’s heart starts doing jumping jacks in his chest. He pointedly ignores the heat that’s clearly not rising on the back of his neck.  

They awkwardly stare at each other for a few seconds, and Sanji is saved by Robin, who appears behind the counter and sends them a quizzical look before putting on her professional smile and asking them if they want to order something.  

Sanji shakes his head and throws away his empty cup, while Zoro places his order and digs into the pockets of his jeans to pay. When he pulls out a few coins, some fall to the ground with a chiming sound, rolling all over the place and making a few people turn towards them.  

“Shit. Sorry.”  

“It’s alright, take your time.” Zoro gives Robin an embarrassed yet grateful smile and starts collecting the fallen money. Sanji quickly bends down to pick up a few coins that have ended up near his feet, a bemused smile melting on his face as he watches Zoro pay and turn to him with pink cheeks.  

“Hey mosshead, I got some change for you.” Sanji grabs Zoro’s wrist and puts the coins in his open palm. He briefly wonders if it’s normal for his fingertips to tingle as if he’s just wrapped them around a live wire, and then he moves away, hands burrowing into the pockets of his jeans as he nervously shifts from foot to foot.  

Zoro stands there, still as a statue, with coins glinting on his open palm, a gaping mouth, and a wide eye fixed on Sanji’s face. After a few seconds, he blinks and shakes his head, putting the money back into his pocket and looking at Sanji with a gaze that seems to be a mixture of surprise and nervousness and something else Sanji cannot quite recognise.  

“Well, I...it was nice seeing you.” Sanji clears his throat, “See you in class then.”  

He turns around and walks away, trying to think about all he can do to keep his mind busy and avoid overanalyzing this fateful encounter. It’s like destiny has decided to dangle in front of him all his desires—the wishes and dreams he had been uselessly pushing away for the past couple of months—just to sadistically watch him writhe in pain.  

If there is really an entity up there watching his every move, then it must be a sadist motherfucker for toying with his emotions and with his life like this. He cannot think of anything worse than being one step away from what you desire and knowing you will never be allowed to reach out and hold it.  

Sanji has one step out of the door when a hand grasps his elbow and pulls him back inside. He turns around, arm raising to strike whoever has decided it was alright to grab him like that, when he meets Zoro’s bright smile.  

His cheeks are slightly pink, gaze sparkling with something Sanji cannot quite define, and lips bend into a wide smile that opens around a phrase that almost makes Sanji’s knees buckle.  

“Long time no see, cook.”  

Sanji searches Zoro’s face for something, and he sees recognition, happiness, and sadness all taking turns to wet Zoro’s eye and widen his smile as Sanji takes a step forward. He tentatively raises a hand, thumb gently running over the edge of Zoro’s scar while the man tilts his head to nuzzle Sanji’s palm.  

“Do you—you really...?” Sanji takes a deep breath, vision blurry as he uselessly tries to push out the words.  

Zoro’s eye opens, and he nods, his free hand raising to circle Sanji’s wrist and pulling him forward with a strength he should probably not have after a month spent on his deathbed and only a few months of physical therapy.  

“I remember everything, cook. All of it. It's like someone just poured out a bucket of memories into my head.” The words are spoken directly into his ear, and Sanji shivers.  

He circles Zoro’s neck and fists the back of his shirt while two strong arms envelop his waist and keep him from crumbling to the ground. Zoro’s whispering something into his ear, but the ringing sound in his head and the deafening noise of his hammering heart make it impossible to discern his words. His grip loosens slightly, and they lean back.  

Between the tears, Sanji sees Zoro smile at him, and a warm hand is gently pressed against the side of his face, thumb stroking away the tears from his cheekbone. He never thought he'd get to feel his touch. Warm, alive, and so incredibly gentle.  

“A black coffee for Zoro?” Robin’s voice is like a needle that bursts their bubble, and they both smile at each other.  

When Sanji makes to step back, hand raised to dry the tears still running down his face, a strong hold around his forearm forces him to take a step forward, eyes raising quizzically on Zoro’s blushing and smirking face.  

“If I remember correctly, I still owe you a date. Would you like to grab a coffee with me?” Zoro speaks directly against his lips and Sanji can feel the shivers running all over his skin.

“I don’t know, where would you take me?” Sanji whispers with a smile.  

“Well, there’s a nice little place I know...” Zoro smirks, and then he looks down, taking notice of the blue shirt Sanji is wearing. His gaze lights up with mirth as he adds, “We could talk about what I can do to make up for that shirt I ruined.”  

"Yeah, it's a date." Sanji nods and chuckles, and, for the first time since he was a child, he truly feels gifted.