Work Text:
Okay, another attempt to hit his target. He checked the silence, concentrated, and attacked the corresponding mark. A wide cut, a forward cut, a backward cut. Then wide, diagonal cuts, one to the right and one to the left. He took a deep breath and determined what he wanted to hit, delivering two forward strikes, two backward, and diagonal strikes. Oops… Something's wrong.
He took the hilt of his bamboo sword out of his mouth and stared at it. He'd been practicing his simplest techniques for a few days, but something was still missing, and today he'd taken the day to practice and figure it out. He felt that his swordplay needed more practice. Was his swordplay different? Had he forgotten something about his techniques and that's why he felt it wasn't working? Or was it the presence of his clueless best friend, watching him sit on a log with a stupid smile on his face?
Now that he realized, it was very difficult to have that blond man with bangs covering one of his blue eyes, staring into his very being and actions. Not that it was the first time—after all, his other noisy friends had seen his training sessions many times over the years—but the chef's apprentice made him feel strange. Whenever they were alone, his cheeks ached, his heart raced, he felt short of breath, and his insides churned as if a million bubbles were frantically bursting inside his torso. He did his best to ignore it, pretending he didn't feel anything for him.
"So, you don't have anything else to do, do you?" the green-haired brunette asked.
"Huh?" He snapped out of his trance. "What do you mean, Marimo?"
"Standing there staring at me in the middle of training is weird!" Zoro scolded.
Sanji got up from the trunk and walked over to the green-haired boy. They were 11 years old, friends who sometimes fought and sometimes were on good terms. Always together in times of trouble and in times of fun.
"What can I do? The old man kicked me out of the restaurant, saying, 'I can't cook with your laziness! Those who don't get in the way are a lot of help; only come back here when you learn the value of strength and speed!'" He made air quotes with his fingers, imitating the old man's voice. "Doesn't he know that good food has to be cooked slowly to be perfect?"
"And what does that have to do with me?!"
"Usopp left with his parents, and Luffy went to visit his mother, that strange guy with the scar on his face." Sanji remembered.
"I see."
"And Nami-san is busy. Today is tangerine harvest day at her house," he explained, seeing Zoro snort. "I offered to help and insisted, but she politely declined. Then I thought, 'The seaweed needs watering after a few days without seeing each other.' And now I'm here!" He smiled.
"Hmph." I know why she refused… You're so picky about things that you'd only get in the way.” The brunette crossed his arms.
“No way! I'm very useful, okay?!”
Sanji frowned, moved closer, and touched Zoro's shoulder with his own, shoving him roughly.
“It's so useful that 'Marimo' here doesn't need watering. Algae live underwater!”
Sanji was silent for a few seconds, unable to believe what he'd heard, and then started laughing out loud.
“What?! You actually admitted it, huh, Marimo?!”
“That's not what I meant!!” The green-haired man shouted irritably. “I knew your egghead wouldn't let anything important get into it!”
Sanji stopped laughing and kicked Zoro in vain.
“What did you say, you stupid plant?”
“What did you hear, you stupid cook!” He shoved his shoulder back, glaring at the blue eye, irritated. They stared at each other until the Marimo walked away. "Now get lost. I have more to do."
Sanji followed the seaweed with his gaze. Zoro took back his bamboo sword and returned to his work. To get a better look, Sanji went to a horizontally cut tree and sat down. He began to notice what Zoro was doing. They were bamboo swords used for kendo training, and the green-haired man was very good at that martial art.
Of course, he would never tell the Marimo about his admiration for his strength in practicing a sword sport. He preferred to remain silent. Whenever Sanji saw Zoro, he felt an inexplicable happiness upon seeing him. He worried when he trained more than his body could handle or when he got injured, trying to hide it, of course.
His favorite pastime was cooking and learning from Chef Zeff. Although he had a long way to go, he was working hard to be a great cook.
"Wait…" Zoro took the sword out of his mouth. "Something's wrong…"
"What's wrong, Marimo?" The blond stood up and walked toward Zoro, coming closer. "Do you want to drink water and rest?"
"No, that's not it." He stared at the hilt of his sword. "My sensei told me to practice a certain technique that I try and try and try… but I can't do it. He told me to stay calm and I'll get it."
"Hm… I was watching your training and it seemed normal."
"He said: 'Be strict, and at the same time, gentle. To create balance.'"
The blond repeated the saying thoughtfully. Then he realized that this wasn't just a teaching for a dojo student. That applied to Sanji himself, and what Zeff meant.
"As much as a cook needs to be patient and intelligent, sometimes you have to act faster. After all, it's a restaurant and every dish is different..." He murmured thoughtfully.
Zoro was confused.
"And?"
"Marimo, I saw that even though you might know all the techniques by heart, you're just using force. You have no plan, and you can't do whatever you want."
Zoro understood what he meant. His training consisted of lifting weights to build muscle, and his way of attacking was with violence. Recklessness wouldn't help either. What to do then?
He had promised his late best friend that one of them would be the best kendo swordsman in the world. That position now belongs to his father, Mihawk. Zoro used his strength as his unique skill. But Mihawk learned to harness fury and patience in his fighting strategy, and this made him the best kendo practitioner in the world.
"The grass roots in your head are affecting your brain," the apprentice chef warned. Zoro frowned.
"What's up?!"
The blond raised his right hand and touched Zoro's left, holding the sword with him.
"Hey, cook…" He felt his cheeks flush as the pale-skinned hand rested on his. "I'm n-not used to the style of a sword!"
"When it's time for fury, you use force." He held the sword forward, next to Zoro. "When it's time for patience, you think and slide." He made a horizontal movement from left to right with the bamboo sword.
Now the green-haired man could grasp the concept. Sanji also understood how to apply it to his life.
Those watching from afar might think Sanji was just a hothead, but everything he cooked was done with patience and calm. And Zoro, despite his calm personality, pursued his hobby of training to become strong with his swords through strength. The contrast between the two was perfect and, in a way, in sync. They complemented each other.
"That's how I learned to use kitchen knives," the blond boy smiled. "I'm very smart, right? You can say that!"
"Cocky..." The Marimo smiled sarcastically.
Suddenly, the blond felt something grip his waist tightly. He looked down and it was his best friend's right hand. Sanji forced his right hand onto the sword in fright.
"Marimo…?"
"I want to see you kendo now, cook," he said, looking him in the eye.
Sanji placed his left hand on Zoro's shoulder, saying:
"Challenge accepted!"
Zoro began executing his best katana strikes with his left hand while spinning the blond's body with his right. They were playing together, and nothing else mattered. Until they tripped over their own feet and fell onto the grass, laughing. It was so much fun to agree on something they had in common without even knowing it. Despite their childish squabbles, they liked each other; they were truly made for each other.