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Sometimes, Zoro reminded Sanji of his brothers.
It was, perhaps, why he found the swordsman so infuriating.
It had been a long time since he'd seen his family of course, and his only memory of his elder siblings were of young teens.
But even so, Sanji saw his elder brothers in Zoro’s face, his body, his actions. It was both disorientating and disconcerting all at once.
The way Zoro walked, with a self-assured confidence and an uncaring slouch, reminded Sanji of the deceptively casual way his eldest brother, Ichi, carried himself. Zoro’s complete disregard for manners and vigourous love for alcohol rang true to the actions of Sanji’s second brother, Niji. Even his napping habits, his endless training, and the way he ate was always like one of the two.
In fact, Zoro looked very much like Niji.
Sanji imagined the child Niji had been would probably have grown into someone like Zoro: all thick, corded muscle and strength. Niji had been the one to lift things too heavy for him, the one who'd been tasked with all the physical labour.
But although the memories were strong, Sanji held no fondness for Niji.
Niji had always been the one to haul Sanji into the cellar whenever his father called for punishment, a wicked grin on his face. He was the one who forced him to hold the punching bag as he trained, not always aiming correctly when he did so. Niji was the one whose strength Sanji both envied and despised, because no matter how hard he tried, he could never overwhelm Niji in a fight. Niji always won. Sanji always ended up with the bruises and welts, injuries which could never fully heal before the next batch were applied.
His father said he deserved them for being so weak. Weaklings deserved to be beaten.
So whenever Zoro trained with his hundred tonne weights, Sanji felt ugly, irrational emotions. Anger, envy, sorrow and when Zoro sometimes caught his eye, even a trill of habitual fear.
In these instances, he would always, always avert his eyes, hide his shaking hands in the depths of his trouser pockets and walk away.
Unknown to him, Zoro would watch him go.
Niji aside, he also saw his eldest brother in Zoro. This was undoubtedly even more concerning.
Ichi was present in Zoro's fighting style.
It was all deadly precision and swift speed, with attacks to fatally wound or kill. Ichi was a lethal and efficient fighter who, despite his usual nonchalance, loved the thrill of battle.
Unlike Niji, Ichi had never been very involved with Sanji directly. He was typically aloof, never tormenting Sanji but never lending a hand either. His presence was that of a silent sentinel, watching on to make sure Niji never went too far, but not caring enough to intervene.
As a child, Sanji’s feelings for Ichi were complicated. He'd somewhat admired him for a time, being as strong as he was. But this feeling was tainted by the bitterness of the man's nonchalance and cold fear of his capabilities.
Sanji had only seen Ichi in true battle once, and he remembered it all too clearly. His brother fought like a man possessed, with a maniacal joy and easy prowess. His bloodlust rolled from him in waves and Sanji remembered how petrified he'd been as a child watching it.
Niji may have been the one to beat him up as a child, but it was Ichi which fueled his darkest nightmares.
He felt the same violence from Zoro, especially nowadays having been separated for 2 years. The swordsman obviously reveled in the feel of battle and, when faced with a strong opponent, would radiate the same terrifying amount of bloodlust.
On a good day, when he and Zoro sparred, Zoro remembered they were only training and the bloodlust wouldn’t surface.
Sanji could cope with this, and obviously gave his all to take the other man down. However, when either Sanji or Zoro slipped into the battle mentality, there was a palpable shift.
Zoro’s eyes would narrow, sharpen. A shark-like grin touching his lips and his movements getting faster, more precise. And Sanji kept up for a while before Zoro met his eyes and his entire body seized.
Typically, when this happened, Sanji came up with an excuse to stop. He'd say he needed to start on dinner, or go check on the stew (even when there was no stew) and walk away.
Zoro was dense, but not stupid and it always left the swordsman in a bitter mood. He’d sulk until Sanji brought him a bottle of sake and onigiri as apology.
One particular time it hadn't ended so innocently. It had been a moment of mutual horror and he remembered it with crystal clear clarity.
Zoro hadn't expected Sanji to freeze so suddenly and almost sliced Sanji’s hand clean off. Luckily, Sanji managed to dodge on pure instinct. He was rewarded with only a deep gash in his thigh and almost cried in utter relief.
Zoro snapped immediately out of his fight-fogged reverie, his expression shifting into confusion, horror and then anger. He'd marched right up to Sanji, grabbed him by the collar and pulled him close with stormy eyes.
“What the hell was that, shit cook?” Zoro spat, anger obvious. “Why did you stop fighting?”
Still slightly shell-shocked, Sanji tried to hide the way his entire body trembled. He knew he wasn't fooling anyone with Zoro so close.
“Damn it Marimo, can't you even accept your victory with grace?” Sanji tried for nonchalance, the breathiness of his voice betraying him.
Zoro, if possible, grew even angrier.
“Don't you fucking hold back on me when we fight, you hear?” Zoro was obviously furious. Then, surprisingly, “Why do you always run away when it starts getting good?”
Sanji scoffed. “Don't get too full of yourself. I'm not free to fight you all day. Unlike you, I actually have a job to do.”
Zoro shoved him away and Sanji winced at the pain in his thigh.
“Pathetic.”
And as Zoro walked away, Sanji felt a very strong urge to collapse onto the deck.
Instead, he drew out a cigarette, lit it with unsteady hands and inhaled deeply.
“Are you afraid of me?”
Zoro asked once, when the entire crew had gone to bed. Sanji was taking inventory in the kitchen.
“No.” Sanji replied without looking at him. It was fractionally true. “Get out of my kitchen.”
Zoro didn't move.
“Liar. I've seen the way you look at me sometimes when I'm training. Not to mention the way you freeze when you fight me.” Zoro paused. “And then there was what happened the other day.”
It seemed Zoro was more perceptive then he thought.
Sounding frustrated, Zoro continued.
“Of all people, I wouldn't have thought you'd be afraid of me. Usopp, maybe. But not you.”
Sanji turned to look at Zoro for the first time since he'd come in. His healing thigh stung as he did so, a reminder of the incident.
Zoro stood awkwardly at the table, for once not looking so composed. His eyes darted from Sanji's face, away, and then back. He fiddled minutely with the handle of his swords. Overall, he looked endlessly uncomfortable, like he'd physically forced himself to come here and have this conversation. Sanji imagined he probably did.
And, surprisingly, this is where Sanji saw Zoro for his differences rather than similarities.
Because his brothers never would have sought him out like this, would never have questioned his actions. Their pride wouldn't have allowed them to be emotionally vulnerable, not like Zoro was now. Ichi and Niji would never have cared enough.
Sanji blinked and for the first time in a while, he didn't see Niji or Ichi in Zoro. He simply saw Zoro.
Short-tempered, alcoholic, powerful and fearsome, yes. But also who got rice stuck on his cheeks without realising, somehow always found himself lost on a straight road, fiddled with his swords when nervous, smiled fondly at Chopper or Usopp or Luffy when they weren’t looking, and protected the crew with all he had.
“I'm not afraid of you.” Sanji said, this time with more confidence. “I was afraid of- no, never mind. It doesn't matter.”
Zoro eyed him suspiciously for a moment or two, as if deciding whether to believe these words. After a moment, his stance relaxed and his slouch returned.
“If you say so. Just don't pull your punches again. Because I might actually kill you next time.” Zoro said.
Sanji rolled his eyes.
“Just you try, Marimo.”
This, apparently was all Zoro needed. He turned and walked to the door.
“I still expect a bottle of sake tonight. You're not forgiven yet.”
“Who says I want to be forgiven by you?” Sanji’s lips curled into a playful sneer.
Zoro paused, hand on handle.
“What, going to demand I cook for you too?” Sanji asked.
Zoro was silent for a moment but when he spoke, his response surprised Sanji completely.
“Whoever it is who’s got you so damn afraid, just beat them up next time you see them,” Zoro said without turning, “And if you can't, then we’ll do it for you.”
Completely floored, and a little touched, Sanji smiled. Something he didn't often do at the swordsman. Not that Zoro would see it anyways.
“Who says I can't?” Sanji retorted.
He could hear the grin in Zoro’s voice as he answered.
“Luffy is the man who will become King of the Pirates. He can't have some scaredy-cat cook on his crew.”
Then, Zoro was gone and Sanji was left to contemplate the number of revelations he'd just had.
Sanji’s brothers were currently staring down at him in contempt. It was barely a day until the wedding, and amidst the bustle on Big Mom’s ship, the Vinsmoke brothers managed to corner him.
Sanji lay on the ground at their feet, unable to move from the injuries they'd inflicted.
“Father isn't pleased.” Ichi’s voice was full of disdain. “But he's willing to let you redeem yourself with this wedding. So don’t screw it up.”
Sanji spit the blood from his mouth at Ichi’s shoes, gaining a sick satisfaction in the response it drew from Niji.
“You fucker.” Niji kicked Sanji hard in the gut, and the pain that shot through him was immense.
Sanji curled in on himself, his childhood fear threatening to resurface. Sanji forced it down. He was a grown man. He no longer needed to be afraid.
He had a real family now.
“You're just as pathetic as I remember.” Niji scoffed as he wiped his shoe off on Sanji's clothes. “I have no idea why dad chose to marry you off. Maybe he thought that ugly Yonkou would eat you.”
Niji laughed nastily to himself.
Sanji managed to look up, into the faces of the men he once called brothers. And despite the situation, he could only think of how much they looked like Zoro, yet not at all.
“Perhaps you were both too ugly to be considered as marital candidates.” Sanji knew it was a childish retort, but it got him the response he expected: another few painful kicks.
“Enough,” Ichi said after a moment and Niji stopped immediately. “He needs to be left alive for the wedding.”
Sanji coughed up more blood. He was almost certainly bleeding internally somewhere.
"He's a worm who betrayed the family, ran off and became some lowly pirate. He's a disgrace.” Niji ranted. “Why would dad choose him? He's better off dead.”
“Even so, father’s decision is final.” Ichi spoke with cold disdain. “We can't kill him.”
Niji growled before placing his foot on Sanji’s arm and pressing down painfully. Sanji bit his lip hard, refusing to make a sound.
“Looks like you got off easy this time. But you should really control that mouth of yours. If it had been dad, he may have just killed you after all.”
Then, the pressure was gone and the brothers were walking away.
“See you at the wedding, brother. We are so very happy for you.” Niji sung as they departed. “But if you drop dead before then, well, it's no real loss either.”
They left with Niji’s laughter hanging in the air behind them.
Sanji panted harshly against the ground, his whole body screaming in pain. That was ok, he didn't need to move yet.
He lay there for what felt like an eternity, drifting in and out of consciousness, before a soft sound jolted him from his thoughts.
Purupurupurupuru.
With much effort, Sanji rolled himself onto his back, cringing as hot pain seared up his torso. Bruised rib, for sure, if not broken.
He reached into his blood stained jacket and pulled out a small transponder snail. The poor thing looked almost as beat up as he did.
Kacha.
“Oi curly, you there?”
Sanji would have scoffed if it didn't hurt so much. As it so happened, everything hurt too much to talk at the moment. He could really use a cigarette.
“Cook, answer me.”
Zoro’s voice was urgent.
“I'm here.” Sanji managed to croak. “What do you want, Marimo?”
“You sound like shit.”
Sanji couldn't laugh but he wanted to.
“Thanks.” He coughed loudly and another stream of blood was expelled.
“Just hang on. Luffy and the others are coming to get you.”
Zoro sounded gruff and sharp. It was Sanji's way of knowing the swordsman was worried.
“And here I was thinking you could take care of yourself. Stupid dart-brow.”
“Fuck off moss head.”
“You sound half dead and you still manage to insult me.” Zoro sounded exasperated now. Sanji wondered when he'd gotten so good at reading the other man's vocal cues.
Sanji stayed silent for a long moment, considering things. Why on earth had Zoro called him? To tell him help was on the way? Surely there was no need for that.
“Cook? You haven't passed out on me have you?”
It seemed he wasn't part of the group Luffy was leading here. It made sense. Someone had to stay back on Zou after all. They still had the Kaidou mess to deal with.
“Oi. Answer me shitty cook.”
So why was he calling?
“Sanji?”
It hit him.
“Zoro.” Sanji replied, voice raspy. “I couldn't do it. I tried, but I couldn't.”
Zoro was silent for a moment, but when he spoke again his voice was filled with anger and resolve.
“What did I tell you? If you can't, we will.”
Sanji smiled.
“Luffy’s wrath is like a cyclone and his goal right now is you. I fear for anyone who stands in his way.”
Sanji knew this. He knew it all too well.
“So just hang tight and wait for him. Don't you dare die in the meantime.”
And then he hung up and Sanji was left warm despite the cold, hard floor.
Sometimes, Sanji mused, Zoro reminded him of his brothers.
But sometimes he didn't. And, honestly, that was what mattered.