•Avery ♥︎ Carson

Still, despite preaching that food should never go to waste, Sanji had purchased enough seafood not only to feed the crew for a month, but to host several feasts with visiting pirate crews.

Then, barely giving anyone a chance to object, he had practically dragged you all toward the sushi restaurant he’d dreamed of visiting ever since his days aboard the Baratie, positively buzzing with excitement at the chance to learn something new.

“Old geezer used to say if you ever crossed the Grand Line and found yourself on this island, you’d be a fool to leave without eating here.”

By the time you finally arrived, your cook let out a sigh of pure admiration, forcing you to discreetly pinch Zoro more than once to keep him from making one of his usual remarks.

The restaurant wasn’t extravagant so much as quietly timeless. It stood at the very edge of the harbor, where the sea nearly kissed its foundations whenever the tide rose high. From the outside it was surprisingly modest, a weathered cedar building whose dark wooden walls had been polished smooth by decades of salt-laden winds. A faded indigo noren hung across the entrance, its color softened by countless summers, bearing nothing more than the simple white crest of three intertwined waves.

“OI, SANJI! THIS SHACK’S THE PLACE WITH THE AMAZING FOOD?!”

Luffy’s voice rang out with all the subtlety of a cannon blast.

He was immediately met by three raised fists: Sanji, whose cigarette nearly snapped between his teeth as one leg lifted threateningly into the air; Nami, glaring daggers at their captain’s complete lack of manners; and poor Usopp, desperately trying to salvage what little dignity remained.

Hidden behind your shoulder, your boyfriend allowed himself the faintest, thoroughly self-satisfied smirk before nudging both you and Chopper, who had already claimed your other hand.

“C’mon.”

After taking off your shoes, with Chopper naturally finishing long before everyone else and bouncing impatiently where he stood, a waiter led you toward one of the tatami rooms through a series of polished wooden corridors. Paper lanterns cast warm pools of amber light across the hallway, while the old floorboards creaked softly beneath your footsteps.

You slowed for just a moment, unable to resist admiring the tiny courtyard garden tucked between the rooms. A smooth stone basin caught the steady trickle of falling water, soft moss blanketed the ground beneath a wind-shaped pine, and several koi drifted lazily through a shallow pond.

“Tch. You coming, woman?”

Zoro’s voice pulled you back. He stood beside the open shōji door, patiently holding it for you.

You smiled, quickening your pace.

“Thanks.”

Taking advantage of the brief absence of witnesses, you rose onto your toes, pressed a quick kiss to his cheek, then slipped past him into the room.

Zoro answered with nothing more than the smallest shrug, though the corner of his mouth twitched upward as warmth spread across the cheek you’d kissed.

Chopper had already rushed inside.

“I WANT THE WINDOW!”

In the blink of an eye he’d claimed the spot overlooking the water.

You laughed, straightening the little hat that had slipped crookedly onto his head.

“You beat me to it.”

“I can still see everything from here!” Chopper beamed.

Kneeling beside him, you adjusted the cushion he’d knocked askew, still smiling to yourself.

When you finally looked up again, Zoro was still standing where you’d left him, quietly waiting until you’d settled in before lowering himself onto the cushion beside you.

The peaceful atmosphere lasted all of thirty seconds before the shōji door slid open and in burst the Straw Hat captain wearing a grin as loud as his voice.

“FOOD!”

Before anyone could stop him, he was already kneeling at the table with his nose mere inches from the immaculate place settings.

Sanji immediately seized him by the back of his vest, a vein throbbing visibly across his forehead.

“Don’t touch anything, you idiot! They haven’t even brought the food yet!”

“But I wanna see!”

“You’ll see it when they serve it!”

Having personally insisted on ordering directly from the head chef, selecting the restaurant’s rarest specialties, Moonfin tuna, Rainbow snapper, Sapphire squid, and countless fish found nowhere else but these waters, Sanji had, in truth, been determined from the start to spend the evening beside the master chef himself, soaking up every lesson he could.

With a sparkle in his eyes brighter than the one that usually appeared at the sight of a beautiful woman, he practically floated after the elderly chef, an old acquaintance of Zeff’s. The discovery had caught him completely off guard, but his surprise quickly gave way to unmistakable pride. The legendary sushi master not only knew the stubborn old geezer from the Baratie, but seemed genuinely delighted to meet his apprentice, readily demonstrating his techniques and sharing the knowledge he had spent a lifetime perfecting.

Thankfully, that spared the rest of you another hour of listening to him repeat,

“This chef trained for sixty years.”

“The vinegar is aged.”

“The rice only grows on the northern cliffs.”

“The knife’s been passed down through eight generations.”

With drinks finally served, conversation flowed easily, as much as it could with Luffy repeatedly announcing that the food ought to hurry up already.

You, Nami, and Robin soon found yourselves making plans to visit the island’s famous onsen together, all three of you craving a little time away from your beloved idiots. Nami had already reserved a spot for the following day and fully intended to spend a generous portion of the crew’s budget shopping beforehand, while Robin quietly informed you about a local bookstore that supposedly carried the very book you’d been searching for in every port these past few months.

Beside you, your green-haired swordsman sat in comfortable silence, occasionally brushing his little finger ever so lightly against your hand as he sipped his sake. With one ear he listened to one of Usopp’s wildly exaggerated stories, a tall tale bearing little resemblance to reality, while unsuccessfully hiding a smile at the captain’s and Chopper’s wholehearted amazement.

At one point, Chopper’s attention was stolen by a tiny crab making its way along the veranda outside.

Without thinking, you reached to stop him from leaning too far.

At that exact same moment, Zoro’s hand settled firmly against the small of your back out of pure instinct.

Across the table, Robin smiled quietly into her teacup.

At last, Sanji returned alongside the head chef, greeted by Luffy’s ecstatic cheers, as beautifully carved serving boards shaped like waves, dragons, and even swords were carefully placed before each of you.

Delicately arranged atop them, each piece of sushi looked almost too beautiful to eat. Brilliant colors gleamed beneath the lantern light, from the vivid turquoise sheen of the Moonfin tuna to the deep crimson cuts and the iridescent marbling of the Rainbow snapper. The craftsmanship was nothing short of mesmerizing.

You discreetly nudged your boyfriend’s ankle the moment he opened his mouth to remark that sushi looked the same no matter where you ate it. Meanwhile, you, Nami, Robin and Chopper found yourselves quietly pointing out your favorite pieces, admiring the vibrant colors spread before you like tiny works of art.

“The strongest warriors used to volunteer their arms,” the elderly chef remarked, with the sort of perfectly straight face that made it impossible to tell whether he was recounting history or inventing it on the spot.

“Long ago,” he continued, “the strongest warriors of this island would offer their arms during festivals to the person they held dearest. They believed food tasted sweetest when it was shared with the one they wished to protect. It was never meant as entertainment, but as a quiet promise. To nourish someone with your own hands was one thing… to trust them enough to place your own body beneath their meal was another.”

A faint smile softened the old chef’s weathered features.

Unfortunately for Zoro, Luffy volunteered him before he even had the chance to object.

The chef studied the green-haired swordsman thoughtfully.

“With muscles like that… it would actually work.”

Zoro refused immediately.

“COME ON, ZORO!” Luffy pleaded, slapping him enthusiastically between the shoulders. “PLEASE! PLEASE! PLEEEASE!”

“No.”

Your boyfriend sounded so final that it was obvious he’d sooner wrestle a Sea King than endure Luffy’s stretchy hands and tongue anywhere near his skin, especially knowing the rest of the idiots would immediately join in.

“I WOULDN’T MIND!” Luffy declared instead, balancing pieces of sushi along his own arm, much to Sanji’s horror as several nearly slid onto the floor. “I’M STRONG TOO!”

Saving the endangered sushi with remarkable speed, Sanji marched toward the girls, hearts practically floating around him.

“I would never offer these magnificent hands to those heathens,” he declared dramatically, “but if my lovely ladies wished it, the greatest honor of my life would be to have their beautiful lips graze my arm…”

“ME TOO!”

“NO!”

Sanji snapped around so fast his entire expression transformed the instant Luffy tried to volunteer himself.

Meanwhile, everyone else had turned to stare at Zoro.

“The hell’re you all lookin’ at?”

He was completely against it…

…until you quietly asked,

“Would you mind?”

Silence settled over the room.

Usopp leaned forward with unmistakable interest, Chopper stared with stars sparkling in his eyes, and Franky simply raised an enthusiastic thumbs-up.

“…Tch.”

“If he won’t, Y/N-swan, I’d be more than happy to offer my…”

“She’ll eat off mine, you damn perverted cook.”

Your green-haired swordsman had already rolled up his sleeve, deliberately turning his head away as though none of this concerned him. Usopp would’ve sworn the tips of his ears were as red as the coral reefs of the Grand Line, but wisely kept that observation to himself.

Still visibly irritated, though making a genuine effort to compose himself for your sake, Sanji reached for a few pieces of sushi, intending to arrange them across the firm curve of Zoro’s bicep. One sharp look from the swordsman stopped him cold.

“Only her.”

Unable to hide your smile beneath the curious stares of your crewmates and Sanji’s poorly concealed sulking, you knelt beside Zoro, biting back a laugh as you carefully arranged each piece of sushi along his forearm.

Your fingertips drifted gently across the surprisingly soft warmth of his skin, stretched over the solid muscle beneath. As your index finger idly traced the prominent vein running along his forearm, he nearly choked on his own breath. The swordsman's eyes widened for the briefest instant, a warm flush blooming across his cheeks before he hurriedly schooled his expression. A quiet, strangled sound escaped him, something that, in the peculiar language of Roronoa Zoro, translated to I’m barely holding myself together, and I’d much rather you didn’t do that in front of everyone… even as he made no move to stop you.

“Cold?”

“No.”

He was so still he barely seemed to blink.

“Isn’t it a little difficult to keep your balance?”

“No.”

“You can move if you’re uncomfortable.”

“…You haven’t finished,” he muttered, meeting your eyes for only a heartbeat before looking away again.

Smiling softly, you leaned in once more, steadying yourself with one hand against his shoulder.

His bicep had long been one of your favorite places to find comfort. It had steadied you through countless ordinary moments, carried the weight of your exhaustion without complaint, and welcomed you whenever the world felt just a little too loud.

You had kissed your way along that very arm more times than you could count.

Sometimes, when you were feeling especially playful, you’d nip at it just to hear his gruff complaint. You’d cleaned the cuts left behind after battles, pressing gentle kisses to fresh scars as you wrapped them in clean linen. On quiet afternoons beneath the Sunny’s mast, you’d used it as a pillow while dozing safely tucked against his chest, and on sleepy mornings, you’d leave a trail of featherlight pecks along his bicep before trying to slip from his embrace, only for him to wordlessly pull you back against him.

Whenever you rushed into his arms, it was there that your face inevitably came to rest. You hid behind that broad upper arm whenever you grew shy or tried to conceal a smile. In crowded festival streets, you instinctively clung to it so you wouldn’t lose him in the sea of people. Sometimes you’d lazily trace little pictures or write words against his skin with your fingertip, laughing as he tried to guess what you’d drawn. And on nights when the two of you lost yourselves in one another, you’d leave lipstick marks along the muscle, and he’d regard them with quiet satisfaction, reluctant, and entirely uninterested, to wipe away those little traces of your affection unless you insisted.

Yet never, not once, had you eaten from it.

After hearing the story behind the tradition, and knowing he had offered that quiet honor to you, and to you alone, the entire moment took on an intimacy you hadn’t expected.

Perhaps you should have felt embarrassed with the whole crew watching, but the thought barely crossed your mind.

Moments like these, when Zoro chose to wear his affection where others could see it, were impossibly rare. His love had never been loud or adorned with grand declarations. It revealed itself through quiet choices, stubborn gestures, and silent promises that somehow always reached your heart all the same.

Your hair brushed lightly against his neck, sending the faintest tickle across the skin of the stoic swordsman, who suddenly became far more aware of your closeness than he had been a moment before.

I fought Mihawk with a steadier pulse than this.

The ridiculous idea itself didn’t bother him in the slightest, nor did the certainty that the crew would tease him mercilessly for weeks to come. What unsettled him was the way you kept drifting into his space without the faintest idea of the storm you were stirring inside him.

You had expected him to grumble, to click his tongue in annoyance, perhaps even shift restlessly enough to send your carefully placed sushi tumbling onto the wooden floor.

Instead, as you leaned impossibly close to that absurdly broad bicep, you became acutely aware of the warmth radiating from his skin, lingering only millimeters from your lips. Beneath the delicate aroma of fresh fish and seasoned rice lingered the faint scent of sea salt, mellow sake, and the subtle cedar and hinoki oil you’d given him months ago on another island, a fragrance that had long since become unmistakably, comfortingly his. The muscles beneath your fingertips tightened almost involuntarily each time your warm breath ghosted across his skin.

Before you realized it, warmth had crept into your cheeks despite knowing every inch of that arm by heart.

He noticed immediately.

A smug little smile tugged at the corner of his mouth.

“Thought this was your idea.”

“Shut up.”

Trying very hard to pretend his ridiculous smirk wasn’t affecting you in the slightest, you reached for a piece of Moonfin tuna. As you leaned in to take it, your lips brushed against the warm skin stretched over the firm muscle of his arm.

The warmth lingering beneath the rice nearly distracted you from the immaculate sushi itself. It truly was exquisite. The fish dissolved across your tongue with an almost delicate sweetness, balanced by perfectly seasoned rice that Sanji would undoubtedly spend the next month trying to recreate. Under any other circumstances, you would’ve happily spent the next ten minutes praising every nuance of its flavor to your hopelessly enthusiastic cook.

Unfortunately for him, your attention had wandered somewhere far less culinary.

When you lifted your gaze again, your eyes met Zoro’s.

For one suspended heartbeat, neither of you looked away.

Then the flustered swordsman did.

The tips of his ears had turned an unmistakable shade of pink.

A smile tugged at your own lips. You chose not to comment on the way he’d instinctively straightened the moment your lips had lingered just long enough to catch the last few grains of rice clinging stubbornly to his bicep.

“Good?” he asked, amused now by both the absurdity of the situation and your growing fluster, while hoping his own wasn’t nearly as obvious.

“Mm.”

“Worth humiliating me?”

You didn't hesitate.

“Definitely.”

Another crooked smirk found its way onto his face.

“Then have another.”

The crew erupted.

Sanji nearly collapsed to his knees, mourning the image of his precious angel being corrupted by an uncouth brute. Beneath the table, Brook quietly slipped a handful of berries into Nami’s palm, settling whatever bet the two of them had apparently made, while Luffy barreled between the two of you before anyone could stop him.

“NOW IT’S MY TURN! GIMME! I WANNA TRY TOO! C’MON! C’MON!”

He reached for another piece balanced on the sturdy ridge of Zoro’s arm.

Zoro pulled it back before Luffy could get anywhere near it.

“Will you knock it off already?”

“You’re no fun,” Luffy huffed.

For one suspiciously convincing second, he looked as though he’d given up.

Then, like a seagull spotting unattended food, he lunged forward and took a bite out of Zoro’s arm instead.

“THE HELL IS WRONG WITH YOU?!”

A solid punch landed squarely on the captain’s head, earning an exaggerated yelp as the two immediately dissolved into yet another loud argument. Zoro looked ready to draw a sword on pure principle. You rested a calming hand against his shoulder before he could seriously consider it, while poor Usopp threw himself at Luffy in a desperate attempt to drag him away, entirely unaware that he had just volunteered himself as the next victim.

His efforts proved spectacularly futile.

Luffy abruptly abandoned Zoro altogether, declaring him “too grumpy,” and instead attempted to balance a piece of sushi on Usopp’s nose.

The resulting chorus of laughter, indignant protests, and Sanji’s horrified cries about wasting perfectly good food swept through the room, drawing everyone’s attention away from the two of you.

Taking advantage of the momentary distraction, you—almost shyly now—reached for one last piece resting on your green-haired swordsman’s arm.

Without looking at you, he mumbled quietly enough that only you could hear,

“…You’re the only one I’d ever consider doing something this ridiculous for.”

You smiled, warmth blooming in your chest before you could stop it.

“Good to know.”

He answered only with a quiet grunt, though the faint flush still lingering at the tips of his ears betrayed him completely.

Around you, the restaurant slowly settled back into the familiar, beloved chaos that seemed to follow the Straw Hats wherever they went. Luffy was now chasing a horrified Usopp around the room with a piece of salmon balanced precariously on his finger while Sanji shouted himself hoarse in the background, torn between protecting the restaurant’s dignity and strangling his captain.

Yet somehow, amid all that familiar noise, Zoro’s quiet confession lingered longer than the taste of the meal itself.

Every moment thereafter, whether absurd enough to leave you both laughing, heavy enough to test your resolve, or beautiful enough to steal your breath away, would be met the same way: side by side, sharing each one together.