Zoro's birthday! And because I can't finish the fanart in time, I decided to chuck and finish this thing I wrote while the house was being painted and I had no computers for long hours. Durr. This was also partially written because I am trying to get in to Zoro's head so I can play him better and not feel bad when I app him later. And because I've been playing crazy amounts of ZoSan for a while now. Hurr, hurr~

The usual: I do not own One Piece. This is a complete work of fiction. Any misspellings or wrong grammar is unintentional. I am my own beta. I could have missed some stuff.

And now ...

WHEN HE SLEEPS

Zoro can sleep through anything.

When the younger members of the crew are chasing each other around the deck, he pays them no attention. Their sniper and doctor - Usopp and Chopper - would scream and laugh, their captain yelling something about sea kings and pirate kings or trying to play sniper against their own ace-sniper, to see who would be able to hit that distant rock far away from their course.

Said rock would explode, an unwanted pillar unwanted structure stemming form the ocean bed gone. the sound of the canon or some invention Franky the shipwright created, to test and see what may need some adjusting echoing. It is such a racket, laughter and cheers following quickly just as the distant sound of rocks shattering and water splashing dulls to a soft hush of waves rippling.

Zoro sleeps through this.

Nami, their navigator, would chastise them then, their acts interrupting her map drafting. She would chase the 'kids' down, her voice always loud and sharp, a pitch that makes Zoro push a finger in to his ear to ward off the resonating hum that stays in the wake of her lecturing. And fist pounding.

Most of the time, Zoro sleeps through this.

And this all happens at a particular time of day after a little after lunch.

It would be the cook's turn to start his tirade, endless and exaggerating proclamations of his love and adoration, a tray full of something sweet with a name Zoro cannot begin to pronounce let alone bother remembering. The kids wold be extra noisy with the cook's presence and why wouldn't they? Sanji's hands are magical when it comes to the culinary delights.

(You know how good his hands are. You've tasted the fruits of his effort. You know - and without a shred of doubt - that there is no one in the Grandline so far who can turn food to a delicacy and an experience. You enjoy those meals in your silence. You enjoy the supple taste of rice and tofu and salted fish and onigiri. You feel comfort when you eat this, even it is a simple dish and nothing too fancy. He turns your favorite meal in to a delicacy. And in your silence, you heartily tuck in. Your silence and empty plate speaks louder than the insult or the scoffing words you direct towards him most of the time. You think he understands; that is enough for you.)

The songs follow, cheery melodies with equally cheery singing that bony-white fingers compose with finely sculpted violin. Everyone will be singing with Brooke at this point, but Zoro stays away, lying in peace against the Sunny-Go's railing. The cook's shoes is audible as he approaches him, the last glass of parfait on the tray. Sanji scowls, clicking his tongue around the cigarette, while he looks down at the presumably sleeping form. Of course, the disapproving noise continues even as he the clink of glass against wood reaches Zoro's ears. Like the exhale of tobacco that tickles his nose.

"How can one sleep so much?" Sanji mutters and walks away.

Zoro partially sleeps through this. His senses is almost always on alert. It comes with the skill of holding a sword.

But the parfait - lime, more sour than sweet - glass is empty when Sanji returns some hours later to collect his glass.

Zoro sleeps through this.

He sleeps as much as as he trains. Because he dreams when he sleeps. It is in his dreams that Zoro is reminded of the vow he made all those years ago, words that are carved in to his heart and sword. He relives that day, when he sat in the empty dojo and practice had been cancelled that afternoon, when his sensei spoke of the pain in his heart in seeing him, just a small boy, training harder and harder.

Sensei, that sword, give it to me. I will take her share of training and become even stronger! I will become so strong that my name will reach the heavens! I'll become the strongest swordsman in the world! We promised! I ... I ...

It is only in his dreams that he thinks of his past because he spends every waking hour training, pushing himself to the limit to achieve his goal. Because it isn't just a promise he carries by his side.

Ah, that's fine. Kuina's soul and dreams ... I leave them to you.

It is a small boy who carries Wadou Ichimonji with a man's hands. A small boy who wept an entire night many years ago with choking grief because just when he thought he had a goal to prove something to himself, to leave behind that boy who approached the dojo doors as a doujouyaburi in tatters and arrogance to earn a name, everything fell by fate's blade. It is a small boy who lost his world till he knelt there, the world around him blurred by salty waters, and forged a new one for himself.

(You hold your ambition and promise in one hand. You hold your crew and everything that defines all of you as the Strawhat Pirates in the other. This is when you are awake and walking and cutting down enemies to clear the way further for the future Pirate King. Because your ambition lies in his hands as well. It has become like that in the long months you've all sailed together under one flag and under one name.)

So Zoro sleeps, because one cannot have a future if one forgets the past.

When he sleeps and he remembers everything with crystal clarity, it makes him stronger.

"Oi, shitty-swordsman. Dinner time."

There is a heel digging in to Zoro's side, and a single eye cracks open to regard the cook with a question and an irritated swat at expensive shoes. But Zoro listens anyway, following Sanji in to the dining room where arms are already flying and Zoro's plate now sits empty. Not even a speck of sauce or a grain of rice. This is not strange to him but that just means Zoro needs to reach for their captain's plate - who is still busy chewing other people's food - and take a portion for himself.

He does not get far because there's a plate of tofu, rice and salted fish before him and the cook is cocking an eyebrow, daring him to complain about the plate's contents.

"Ah, the caterpillar is crawling again." Zoro says of course. Because no look like that from the cook goes unanswered. Of course, he picks at the most unnatural thing about the handsome face: his eyebrow.

"What's that, shitty-swordsman?" He growls, cigarette twitching.

"Caterpillar." It sounds incomprehensible around the mouthful of food he is chewing but Zoro says no more when the cook's insult dies. Robin desires for some coffee and of course, there he goes swaying with his proclamations of servicing pretty ladies.

Zoro is silent when he he eats, he is silent when he gets up to take his usual perch at the crow's nest for first watch later. A nap after a good meal is the way to go after all. And it is quiet up there, the noises on the deck dulling to a distant hums when the wind is strong and cool. He closes his eyes briefly again and just before he falls in to his dreams, there is a hand against his scalp and a cup of tea pressing against his palm.

"You suicidal? It's freezing here." Sanji mutters, tossing the blanket over his lap, the hand in his hair cuffing him upside the head.

"Chopper can fix a cold."

"Your answer to everything."

"Hmm."

Slender fingers starts their carding through short cropped hair once more and whatever intention to sleep disappearing because this is rare, this is something different that is not related to either ambition or vow he holds in each hand. This is something else and something he cannot hold just yet. The only link he has and dedicates to this annoying and shitty arrogant cook is the same bond he gives to everyone on the Sunny-Go.

But even when the carding stops and soft golden locks spill against Zoro's shoulders and soft breathing accompany the silence, Zoro does not sleep. He sits there, with his empty cup, keeping watching. It isn't because he cannot sleep, because Zoro can sleep through anything, anytime, anywhere.

It is because he makes the choice not to.

Zoro does not and will not sleep through this.

It is because only in this silence, when they are alone, can this man with his slender fingers and talented hands and arrogant handsome face be something more than just a crew-mate.

It is only in this silence can Zoro have something that is not ambition or vows, truly for himself.

FIN

No words. Really. Going to sleep nao. =3=