21st Dec - Last Day pt. 1
French Affairs – Chapter 11
When Zoro awoke the next morning he felt like a million dollars. Much to his surprise it was still dark outside when he got up and put on his training clothes. He felt the need to run, to work out and to actually do more than meditating and practicing iaido for the upcoming tournament. He needed to get a clear head and the best way for doing that was running.
He got up, put his workout gear on and sneaked into the bathroom.
After giving himself a catlick and brushing his teeth he grabbed Sanji’s mobile, which lay on the worktop in the kitchen like always, and left the apartment. He knew he would get lost, since he had no intention of paying attention to wherever he was running.
It was cold outside and fresh snow covered the street and the pavement. Only the faint noises of Zoro’s steps broke the silence around him and with every step he took he felt more comfortable in his skin. Every troubling second he had experienced over the last couple of days got less and less important. Thinking about it he came to the conclusion that he liked being in France at least a little. And Sanji wasn’t as much of a pest as Zoro had first thought he was. Actually he was kind of nice. But getting attached was out of the question. Period.
After quite a while Zoro reached the park where Sanji had picked him up on his first day in Paris, if he remembered correctly. He ran along an avenue towards a huge obelisk, passed it by only to arrive at the Moulin Rouge a while later and when he finally reached the Basilique du Sacre Coeur Sanji’s mobile rang. The sun had started to rise a while ago and when Zoro looked on the display he could see that it was almost 9 a. m.
“What is it?” he said after picking up, enjoying the marvellous view over Paris he had. Really, being here wasn’t that bad at all.
“Good morning, marimo. Where are you?” Sanji asked and Zoro could hear the clicking of his lighter.
“I’m enjoying the sunrise at a really fancy palace. Or church. Or mosque. Care to join me?”
“Judging by your description you must be at Sacre Coeur. You’ve been gone for over three hours, while Sacre Coeur is barely twenty minutes by feet. Did you get lost again?” Sanji replied overhearing Zoro’s invitation.
“I guess I did but at least you seem to know where to pick me up, fancy-brow. Now get your arse dressed and come over.”
Zoro heard Sanji rummaging around and the clanking of keys.
“I swear to God when you are not there when I arrive, I’m going to kick your arse so hard you can taste the leather of my shoes, you feel me, moron?”
“I’d rather not. I’ve already felt more of you than is decent in our state of relationship. And after all you felt me up the night you were drunk as a fart, remember?,” Zoro teased and for a moment Sanji fell silent at the other end of the line.
“Hell no! I didn’t feel you up! What’s wrong with you? You are a nail of my coffin, I fucking know it, shitty bastard,” he sighed and hung up while a content grin spread on Zoro’s lips.
Leaning against one of the balustrades he stood there in front of the basilica, waiting for the cook and taking in the first light of the day. Amazingly Sanji was jogging up the stairway just a little while later, white clouds erupting from his mouth.
“You are late,” he welcomed him without turning to face him.
“Ten minutes is a great time considering that I was not running, okay?”
“Did you fear I would disappear on you?”
“Of course. You already did it twice, remember?”
“You worry too much,” Zoro stated and finally looked over to him. Sanji’s nose and cheeks were getting red from the cold. It looked stupid.
“Since this is our last day together,” Sanji said and got Zoro’s full attention by that, “I guess we could spend the day doing something more interesting than being home, don’t you agree?”
“Did you pack my bags to kick me out in the end?” Zoro asked more than irritated. According to his information he was supposed to stay at Sanji’s place until the 25th of December when he and the others would return to England again. Somehow it didn’t really make him happy to get thrown out after all. Yesterday had been rather uneventful so he didn’t get it. Damn.
“Oh, heavens,” Sanji sighed. “Now you don’t look like a kicked puppy anymore but like an abandoned one. Are you sure you are sober yet?”
“I’m not a puppy,” Zoro growled slightly embarrassed for letting his expression betray him.
“And I sure as hell didn’t pack your stinky clothes, shithead.”
“What are you talking about then?” This guy was getting to him and it didn’t please him. It made him feel inferior and predictable. Seriously, he had never considered himself inferior before. He was the frigging demon cutter, the feared pirate hunter—and definitely no shitty puppy or some other sort of wimp, for fuck’s sake!
“I’m talking about your family arriving tomorrow, shit-for-brains,” Sanji explained and Zoro still didn’t get it.
“I know that they’ll be here tomorrow. But I don’t see why today would be our last day. You don’t suffer from an incurable disease and die tonight, do you?” Probably Sanji suffered from medicament-induced eyebrow curling, he mused. He sure as hell had never read something like that on a package insert. And it didn’t sound lethal on top of that.
“Hell no, idiot. Lucky as I am I will most likely die from something as unspectacular as a nosebleed. I wouldn’t mind it though as long as it is in the arms of some enticing beauty,” Sanji pondered and Zoro couldn’t believe it. That was so macho, so un-cool, so idiotic, so worth getting your head smashed for.
“Get to the point, hormone-victim,” he growled and rubbed his temples.
“Ah, sorry.”
“I don’t really care as long as you don’t unnerve me with your sexual frustration,” he stated hitting the bull’s eye.
“I am not frustrated!” Sanji objected utterly offended.
“I know you are. I’m the great sage. Now get to the point!”
Sanji took a deep breath and Zoro could see how much he struggled not to explode right now and jump at his throat. A cocky grin spread on his lips.
“Fine,” Sanji took another deep breath, “Fine. Whatever. I planned on letting my dear friends stay at a hotel—just like I had planned for you to begin with—but Ruffy can be very convincing, if you know what I mean. He decided for all of you to stay at my apartment, since it would be unfair if I only cooked for you, which is an understandable argument. So from tomorrow onwards it will be a little cramped in your room, in my room, in the living room, and especially in the kitchen. Do you get it now?”
“Honeymoon is over.”
“What honeymoon?”
Zoro just waved it aside.
“That was a joke. Where are all of us supposed to sleep?” Zoro asked to get back to the main topic.
“Isn’t it obvious? The lovely Nami and Ruffy will sleep in my room since it’s the farthest room from the kitchen, you and Chopper will sleep in your room, and Lysop and I will sleep in the living room.”
“Sounds reasonable. So, what did you have in mind to entertain me today?”
“Nothing. My mind must have been benighted for a moment to suggest spending the day together. Forget it.”
“Be a man of your word and come up with something interesting.”
“The opera?”
“Hell no.”
“Theatre?”
“Over my dead body.”
“The museum?”
“Don’t be an arse. I said ‘interesting.,”
“Hmmm. You are very pick, you know? What if I said I have the perfect entertainment for you but you will have to trust me in choosing it?”
“Do you say it or don’t you? I don’t like this what-if bullshit,” Zoro retorted and crossed his arms in front of his chest. He knew the cook had been teasing with his former proposals and Zoro would never admit that he was curious about what he had up his sleeve, but he was nonetheless.
Sanji lit up a cigarette and cracked a content smile. Damn! This bastard could read thoughts! Or maybe Zoro really was predictable. He snorted angrily while Sanji just turned around and descended the staircase. That prick was so sure Zoro would follow him it was a royal pain in the arse. But he did follow after all.
“I need my phone,” Sanji said as soon as Zoro reached him and held out his hand. Muttering insults into his beard Zoro handed it over and glared daggers at him.
“It better be good,” he finally snapped before he fell silent to listen what Sanji had to say over the phone.
“Hi, it’s Sanji. How are you?” the cook said and went on after he had been greeted back. It was bothering Zoro that he couldn’t hear what the person on the other end of the phone said.
“Are you free right now? I promised a little entertaining to a friend. Oh, and bring your things with you. Precisely. Half an hour. Lovely. See you.”
“So?” Zoro asked, now even more curious.
“We need to get home, grab some stuff and then we’ll head over to your surprise.”
Precisely half an hour later they stood in front of the apartment below Sanji’s and Zoro wasn’t sure if he just got punked. Why else would Sanji have refrained from forcing him to change his clothes? The only thing Sanji had done was grabbing a sports bag and telling Zoro to go fetch his swords. Whatever that had been supposed to mean. But Zoro hadn’t felt the need to think about it for too long, since he had known he would get the answer quite soon. He just had tucked his swords in his haramaki and had followed Sanji downstairs.
“What are we doing here?” he asked, barely hiding his anger.
“Don’t be so pushy, you will understand soon enough,” the cook replied and knocked at the door which got opened a couple of seconds later.
A blonde man with a nose worth Lysop’s opened it and smiled at them.
“Welcome. Please come in,” he said and opened the door wide enough for them to enter. “My name is Kaku, pleased to meet you, Zoro.”
Zoro nodded towards him and raised an eyebrow in question. “Why the hell does everyone I meet here seem to know me?”
“Because to some of us it’s impossible to not know the pirate hunter,” Kaku stated, the smile never leaving his face. They took of their jackets and put them on the wardrobe when Sanji asked a little confused: “Pirate hunter? Why’s that?”
Obviously he didn’t share his friend’s knowledge.
“You could also call him the demon cutter if you want to.”
“How can you know this?” Zoro growled. “Did Lucci tell you?”
“Partly he did. The rest I know from your personnel file. You are even a Colour Sergeant—that’s quite impressing at your age.”
“You shouldn’t believe everything in those files. I don’t deserve this rank.”
“But you have it. You could at least try to prove you are worthy of it.”
“Great. I am stuck with a nicotine-dependent cook and a moralizer. Very funny.”
Whatever he was here for, he didn’t want it anymore. All he had wanted was to have a nice day with Sanji, as unbelievable as it sounded, and not some coming to terms with the past.
“I’m sorry, Zoro. I didn’t mean to stir up unwanted memories,” Kaku apologized and pointed towards the living room. “Shall we?”
Stepping inside Zoro had a faint idea of what was going to happen. This was no living room but a sports complex. Nice.
The floor was partly covered with training mats instead of a carpet, the wall opposite of the windows was covered with mirrors and art nouveau bars of steel were installed in front of the windows—on the inside.
“What is this?” Zoro asked suddenly in higher spirits.
“This is our exercise room,” Sanji said and a chuffed smile appeared on his face when he realised Zoro’s change of mind. “I thought you might like to train for real before the tournament.”
“I don’t want to sound ungrateful now but you could have shown this to me days ago.”
“No. You were an arse the entire time. Why would I reward you for it?”
“Have you never heard about the carrot-and-stick policy?” Kaku interrupted their dialogue and went on talking when he only got puzzled looks as an answer. “I guess Zoro was a good boy yesterday and gets his carrot now.”
“Right,” Zoro growled. “A really good boy. Like a nice little puppy. I’m out of here.”
Zorro turned on his heel and left the apartment. His good mood had evaporated and now it touched the bottom. Since he had arrived in France everyone seemed to feel the need to make fun of him. He was sick of it.
“Zoro wait!” Sanji called after him and rushed out of the door after him. Zoro didn’t. He was fed up to the back teeth. Being nice was shit and you got kicked for it. He went upstairs and waited in front of the door for Sanji to arrive.
“Open it,” he commanded still growling.
“What for?” Sanji asked still flustered.
“So I can get my stuff and leave this madhouse. I’ve had enough!”
Instead of receiving a verbal answer he felt Sanji’s foot connecting with his head and made him smash against Sanji’s entrance door.
“You’ve had enough? How about me?” Sanji yelled. “You are not the only one who has reached the end of his patience!”
“Get away from me or I swear I’ll fucking lose it and shred you to peaces!”
“Then try it!”
Without hesitation Zoro’s instincts overtook his body and he unsheathed one of his swords faster than he could digest and went after Sanji, who tapped the tip of his shoe against the floor in anticipation. Whatever defence Zoro had expected it was not this. Sanji quickly bowed his torso backwards until his hands rested on the highest stair and thrust his legs upwards out of the same movement. He kicked Zoro’s sword aside and hit his chin with the other foot. The momentum wept Zoro off his feet and down the stairs so he crashed into the wall opposite the exercise apartment.
Getting up on his feet again he shook his head to regain a clear vision and smiled a menacing smile at the cook promising payback. Sanji descended the stairs casually as if what had just happen was none of his business.
“Get inside. Now,” he ordered and passed Zoro by.
The door hadn’t even closed behind Zoro when he went after the cook again. He had tasted blood and it screamed for more. Entering the living room he was rushed of his feet again but rolled over his shoulder to get up out of the same movement. Leaping forward he aimed next to Sanji’s torso but quickly changed the movement of his thrust so he hit his chest with the back of his katana. Sanji panted in pain.
Zoro stepped back and drew his second sword. Getting into a fighting stance again Sanji waved him over and smiled. Zoro didn’t move. He just waited for the other man to attack. He did. Three swift spin-kicks followed by a jumped roundhouse-kick initiated his attack, driving Zoro through the room.
He dodged Sanji’s attacks without getting a chance to counter. Sanji dropped to his knees trying to sweep him off his feet by a left-hand turn again. Zoro jumped over his feet but got almost hit in the face by Sanji’s left foot as he lifted his legs almost to a handstand from the build momentum. Zoro blocked it with one of his swords and did a backwards spin to hit Sanji’s abdomen with his second sword’s back.
The blonde cook crashed on his back but jumped to his feet with a kip up immediately, got into a handstand and forcefully smashed his foot right into Zoro’s face, making him stumble and crash against the wall.
The speed they fought with increased and so did the force and passion. Each of them gave his everything to beat the other and make him remember his loss by marking him with bruises and split skin. But Zoro never once considered really hurting the blonde. In an actual battle he would have killed him several times already—and he was sure Sanji would have found a way to either break his neck or smash his windpipe just as often. With a final hit into the back of Sanji’s knee and a fierce blow to his head he had him on the floor beneath him and pinned him by kneeling onto his back and leaning his sword slightly against his throat. It was a thrilling feeling to have Sanji pushed down beneath him.
“So you want to call it a tie then?” Sanji asked and Zoro could see him smirk, blood covering his face.
“You are pinned down with my sword at your neck and try to bargain?” the swordfighter asked and put a little more weight on the cook’s back.
“I offer you a graceful end. Else I’ll have to maul you.”
“You really think you could do that?”
“But of course.”
“I assure you, Zoro, he can,” Kaku interrupted, still wearing his unreadable smile. He had sat down at the entrance of the exercise room and watched their fight in silence.
“A tie then.” Zoro got up and offered his hand to the cook who accepted it.
“For a shitty cook you are not that bad,” he said and sheathed his swords.
“For a shithead you did well,” Sanji replied. “But you could have let me change at least, you know? This suit was expensive.”
“There you go again,” Zoro sighed and directed his attention towards Kaku. “Sorry for having him call you here and make you sit around in the end.”
“I don’t mind it. It was very interesting to watch you, Zoro. You sure have the potential to become the number one swordfighter one day.”
“But not now?” Zoro pushed further even though he knew the answer himself. Winning over Mihawk in kendo was possible, winning over Mihawk in a swordfight was possible as well, but improbable.
“I don’t know,” Kaku replied. “I never saw Mihawk fighting with something other than a shinai. Otherwise I would have to arrest him. Swordfights are illegal, you know?”
“I do,” was all Zoro answered. “Why did you come here anyway?”
“To fight you, of course.”
That answer was dumbfounding.
“Didn’t you say just now that swordfights are illegal?”
“I did. They are. But, since I know that I have no intention of killing you and I doubt that you would intend to kill me for no reason, it wouldn’t be a real ‘fight’ but some sort of intense training, you know?”
Zoro understood perfectly. Everything could be interpreted as you needed it, especially the law.
“So be it.” Zoro said and cracked a smile. Man, he was a lucky guy to have gotten introduced to Kaku. It was always interesting to meet swordfighters who had charisma. Hopefully Kaku also had skills in swordfighting.
“I’ll get back on that pretty soon but now I’m lacking time. Your fight took longer than expected. I’ll contact you when I have the time to train with you, Zoro.”
Zoro nodded.
“Well then. Curly-brow, let’s head home. I could use breakfast now.”
“Breakfast?” Sanji asked and raised an eyebrow. “You mean lunch, my dear.”
“What time is it?” Zoro asked in confusion. They couldn’t have fought longer than fifteen minutes at most. At least it felt like it.
“Half past twelve,” Kaku answered and Zoro looked a proper Charlie. That meant that he and Sanji had fought for about two hours. Jesus Christ and that without breaking anything, except for some parts of their skin, or being dead beat. Exhausted, yes, sweaty, hell yeah, even bleeding, but he felt great. Either he was in better shape than he had expected or the prick had gone easy on him again. Looking over to Sanji and seeing him pant slightly assured him, that both of them were simply in good shape and in high spirits.
“So lunch it will be,” he said with a satisfied smile.
--- End of Chapter 11 ----
