Author's Note: First off, belated Merry Christmas, so here's my gift to you! I also wish you a Happy Holidays since they're not exactly over yet. Second of all, it's great to be back! I want to apologize for the super late update for a few reasons: namely, writer's block + laze, trying to incorporate newer elements to the story without having to deal with major plot holes... and pretty much adjusting to life in America + the "Adult Life." Now that I'm more or less adjusted with a job, a bed to sleep in, and some major inspirations, I'm proud to present the fruit of my labor. As promised, it's a much longer chapter compared to the last one. Enjoy!

phonenix: Well, let's just say that Hawkins loves Luffy a bit "too much." -winks- Last chapter won't be the last time you see him, so hopefully, things will clear up.

qfeuille7: I apologize for this delay, and I hope that this chapter will live up to the hype. It was a difficult one to write, but if it accomplishes, then it's all worth it. :) Is Hawkins possessed or crazy? Are his visions real? Well... maybe you'll find out soon enough.

xxTheCherryxx: So, I finally got a job, and now all is right in this world... including an update to this chapter. :) Will Law show up? Eventually. And Hawkins? Oh boy. I'm glad you liked the previous chapter, so I hope this chapter will live up to your excitement (if it still exists after all this time hahaha).

AceandLuffyLover: Oh, yes. College life. It sucks out the energy out of all of us, hahaha! Wow, I'm really touched to find out that you have a permanent tab for this story! -blushes- Thank you very much for the review, by the way. I really enjoyed reading it, and it really gives me the inspiration to keep on writing. As for all of your questions, I suppose there's no other way but to keep reading on for the answers. -winks- But, I'm sure you already know that.

myanimeobsession: Thank you for the review! I won't deny that coming up with a story like this is difficult, but I'm up for the challenge. It's pretty fun, actually. And all those future events that are keeping you hanging? I guess there's no other way but to read on. Haha!

And, now that you brought up the first version... I want to first commend you for reading the whole thing. I'm glad that you can see the differences in quality-including the things that I regret writing about, and that I wish to fix in this version (Shanks, especially. I actually have a plan for him this time, haha!). Ah, my younger, more amateur years...

As for your question... as to why it's terrible if anyone finds out their real names? Well, let's just say that it can bring complications. In Ace's case, it might tip people off that he and his family are connected to a huge mafia family with a dangerous name. That would prompt the authorities to probably try and arrest the Newgates. Or in Sanji's case? If people find out that the "Blackleg Name" exists, then they would definitely know who are the spies that work for the Newgates. It would make Sanji and his family a target for enemies who would do anything to harm the Newgates and any of their allies-thus secrecy is essential. Hope that clears things up. :)

Chapter 14 – Mesonges et Secrets ~ Blackleg Sanji

Translation (French): Lies and Secrets

Boxes. Boxes—neatly packaged and labeled—everywhere. Boxes of shoes, clothes for all the seasons, textbooks and graded research papers, cleaning materials, kitchen tools, unopened packaged food, just about enough belongings to fit a decently furnished student dorm. Football practice ended early, and because I didn't have any meetings to handle for the culinary club—and also because the Shitty Old Man decided to give me the night off from kitchen duty at the Baratie—I decided to head to the Marimo's place earlier than intended. And, when I arrived, I saw the dumb ass already loading some boxes inside the house—a quiet reminder that Kuina has just returned home from the university.

The reason? Apparently, Kuina is suffering from depression.

"Hey, Sanji. Thanks for helping out. You really didn't have to," Kuina tells me as I finish sorting her old kitchen supplies into their proper places. She's sitting behind the kitchen counter, pouring freshly brewed tea into two cups. No need for a third one. She knows just as well as I do that her brother would rather have a cold bottle of beer.

"I aim to please." I reassure her with a smile. "Anything for you and your dumb brother."

She bows her head. "I'm sorry for having Zoro ask you this so suddenly. I haven't seen my best friend in a long time, and she invited me for a sleepover. Father hasn't come back home yet, too."

"You don't have to apologize for anything. You have to enjoy, and I know your father has his own business to carry." Well, more of a family name. He's very much an icon when it comes to the preservation of Japan's heritage and culture, so besides running a doujou and a small antique shop on the side, Roronoa Koshiro visits the mainland for things like hosting a kendou tournament, evaluating the quality of katanas crafted by smiths who continue the tradition—that sort of thing. From what the Marimo told me earlier, his father's helping out with the opening of a new samurai museum—something that he'd rather skip on for Kuina's sake but can't.

The Marimo's family may not have massive tons of wealth, but being direct descendants of the very first Roronoa Zoro, the greatest swordsman in all of history who discovered what we all know today as New Japan, brings up a lot of prestige. Probably explains why the Marimo is a natural when it comes to swords even if he is an idiot. Sports media does a good job in bringing up that fact, too.

Also, as far as I know, Zoro and his family are big among the region's Buddhist community since their ancestor was said to have built—with his own bare hands—the Temple of the Golden Sun, a national and sacred site that stands even until today. Ironic, since the Roronoa Zoro's descendant and namesake isn't the religious type at all.

Kuina sighs as I drink the tea she served me. "I know you're busy with school, the varsity, the culinary club and your father's restaurant."

I gently place down the tea cup. Somehow, in the back of my mind, I can't help but think of all those times when Ace would get on my case for "being a workaholic"… how I'm always pushing myself too hard and stuff. Whatever. It's good for the college resume, right? "The Marimo needs babysitting or else he might just get lost around the neighborhood. Just enjoy your sleepover, alright? And, I know that your friend will pick you up anytime now, but how's about I fix you a quick bite?"

I can see her attempt to smile but she barely manages to lift the corners of her once bright colored lips. "I had a heavy breakfast earlier."

I start washing my hands over the sink. "You can bring them with you for snacks." I don't bother to tell her how much weight she's lost ever since the last time I saw her. Spring break wasn't that long ago. "Anything in mind?"

"Crêpe avec chocolat et fraises, s'il vous plaît."

I make a quick inspection of the fridge and the pantry. Luckily, all the ingredients I'll need to make a basic crêpe is there, including half a container of fresh strawberries and a bottle of Nutella spread. "That sounds really delicious right now, Mademoiselle Kuina," I happily engage with her in French. Kuina double majors in international diplomatic relations and European studies with French as her language track. Sometimes, she likes to practice speaking with me, and I can see that she's learned so much ever since she started. "You also have blueberries. Would you want me to add some, too?"

But, she doesn't answer. I catch her gazing towards the direction of the window as rain starts drizzling outside. Her tea cup still remains between her fingers, barely touched as a lazy wisp of steam rises from it.

"Remember how you used to pick me up from the exchange students' dorm? The one that your family helps sponsor?" she continues in French, and I'm getting the inkling that I'm not the one she's addressing at the moment, "Then, we'd go to the café near the university and we'd talk over tea and crêpes. I even taught you origami one time. You remember that, too, don't you? You weren't that good at the start, but you kept trying."

The first person that comes to mind is Luffy, and now, I'm scared. I was having lunch at the Newgate mansion a few days ago, and I can't forget how Luffy accidentally cut himself with a steak knife and then starts screaming about "monsters" running after him and his older brother. The freak out session that came after was a massive one—a tiny glimpse of the kind of shit that Ace has to put up with.

"Kuina, I'm going to call Zoro, okay?" But, I'm too afraid to leave her alone like this. Not when she's surrounded by kitchen knives, glassware, a hot stove, hell—even that tea cup which she can easily smash to pieces and hurt herself with. If she's suffering from anything similar to what my younger cousin is going through, then I don't want to take any chances.

"You know how much I love chocolates and berries." Seriously, where the fuck is that damn Marimo? "Remember that time when you brought me a candied flower bouquet? The chocolate covered strawberries were delicious. I never told you this, but I heard the other girls whispering behind my back. They teased me, but I didn't care. Even if you didn't express yourself so much, you were always so sweet to me. I love you. I love you so much, a-and… you… you said you loved me…"

Carefully, I plant my hand over her shoulder to shake her gently. Kuina fidgets at the touch, but now she's looking at me with glassy eyes, and I try to ignore the wet pearls that threaten to fall from those lovely ebony eyes.

"S-Sumimasen." She's whispering to me in Japanese this time. "I-I'm sorry. I-I just… remembered something, that's all. I remember my boyfriend… my ex, and…"

"You should eat." I squeeze her shoulder gently. "I'll go and make you a crêpe, okay?"

She frowns slightly at the offer before shaking her head. "Maybe… maybe some onigiri would be better. There should be some umeboshi and raw salmon inside the fridge. Zoro would like that, too." Then, she trails off into deep silence, and I decide to leave it at that while gathering the ingredients. Avoiding anything French for now might be good if it means Kuina can move on from her latest breakup.

But, deep down, I'm not through with this, yet. I retrieve one of the sushi knives, and as I slice the salmon into fine cuts, my mind screams for bloody murder. Kuina doesn't seem bothered by my obvious display of anger, even if I'm practically chopping the board itself.

I sincerely hope the son of a bitch knows where to hide because once the Marimo and I find him—and we will, we always do—I swear to God, he is so dead.

"Oi. If you're trying to kill something, I'll lend you a katana." The Shitty Marimo strolls into the kitchen, and as he fetches a can of Asahi from the fridge, I want to fucking tell him that hell yeah, I actually do want to kill someone, but because Kuina is here, I think better of it. So, I decide to be discreet in urging him to come closer. Thankfully, his dense muscle brain catches on.

"What did she do?" he immediately asks, "She's talking to herself again?"

I frown. Damn. How long has this been going on? "Yeah. I didn't even know she had a boyfriend."

"Same here. Didn't know until she came home from the university, crying to my Dad."

"You are the reason she doesn't get boyfriends."

"As if you're not responsible yourself, damn Curly Brow."

"I only handle the real low lives like that Hyouzou guy she used to date," I hiss out even softer, "You practically chase away anyone with a dick who approaches her."

"Because they're all low lives." We stop to throw a simultaneous glance at Kuina who silently continues to watch the gloomy view outside. When it's obvious that nothing extreme is going to happen, my shitty boyfriend whispers, "Did she start searching the kitchen for salt?"

"What?"

Zoro snorts in blatant annoyance. "Last night was shit. She thought she saw her dead boyfriend, so she started throwing salt all over the house. It was a major pain in the ass to clean."

I realize that he isn't fucking joking, and so I scramble to pull out my cellphone from my pocket. "I'm calling Ace. Get the number of that therapist he works with. Get him to send Marco over to do a séance—I don't know. Just… holy shit."

"She's just seeing things and shit."

I nearly drop my phone before I even dial the first digit. "Don't tell me you can see ghosts, too."

"Hell no! I just don't believe in that shit." I roll my eyes. He says it as if he wasn't also freaking the hell out when we discovered that Thatch Newgate's room is one of the most haunted places in Grand Line City.

I take a deep breath to compose myself before returning to my original task. The salmon has been chopped up already—a little too chopped up—and luckily, the umeboshi has already been halved with the pits removed. Just need to prepare the rice, seaweed and a little bit of season. "I'm going to call Ace anyway for that therapist's number. At least let her see someone."

"You do that. I'll watch her while making the rest of this. Pass me the tuna, will you?"

"Salmon." I correct him while doing so. He places a pan over the stove, and I carefully watch him set the rice cooker and fry the salmon. It turns nice and flaky, and all Zoro has to do now is prepare the spices and cut the nori into equal squares. Easy enough, so I finally deem it safe to rinse my hands and take my leave.

Onigiri is literally the only thing that the dumb Marimo can make, and that's a miracle in itself. It's a general consensus among Ace, Sabo, Robin-chwan, Koala-chwan and I that Zoro should stay the ever loving hell away from a kitchen. Unless it's onigiri, any ungodly product he concocts is suitable for chemical warfare. That or it's against the Geneva Convention. He's excellent with the knives, though.

I arrive at the tatami room where there are only a few small boxes left. Most of the stuff have either been already placed in storage or left inside Kuina's room. Being a gentleman, I left the latter job for my shitty boyfriend to handle.

I pick up a box which has "Scarves" written on its label. Then, I start counting the number of boxes left to sort. Hmm, not much left. Ace can wait, I guess. Might be better to just finish these off.

So, I start arranging between the boxes that are meant for storage and the ones that I can leave outside Kuina's room. Scarves—she won't need these for the summer. School supplies. Tiny Japanese dolls and stuffed black kittens. Little talismans, amulets and trinkets. Stationary kits neatly stacked together. Old notebooks. I'm guessing that everything else here is for Kuina to decide on, including…

I glance at the lone black glossy lacquer box that's decorated with red blossoms and golden peasants. Unlike everything else, this wasn't kept inside a cardboard box, and there's not a single label on it. Curiosity hits me hard as I continue to study the box and its beautiful design from every angle.

And, I think about it. I think about the rewards and the consequences of my actions until my mind's made up, and after checking to make sure that no one is approaching, I quietly slide the door of the tatami room shut.

Normally, I'd respect a woman's privacy. But, if there's anything in this box that can possibly trigger Kuina's depression, then it's better if I keep this out of sight for some time—with her consent, of course.

Not to mention keep it away from Zoro's sight, too. Because knowing the insensitive bastard, he'd probably have anything "threatening" or "trigger-worthy" sliced up and burnt the moment he finds it. Zoro has good intentions, especially when it comes to his sister, but he has very extremely black and white ways of going about it.

It turns out that I'm not wrong at all. I open the beautiful antique box which is filled with all the things that Kuina probably shouldn't be reminded of right now. A simple yet authentic silver chain with a heart shaped locket and a small key. A complete set of rose pearls inside a velvet box along with the "Happy Birthday" card that accompanies it. A variety of pressed flowers—from red roses to purple irises. Pamphlets and maps of famous tourist spots in France. Ribbons and cards that must have come from previous gifts. Tiny origami paper cranes. A small bottle filled with little notes—all rolled up and perfumed—which, upon reading some of them, happen to heap different compliments.

Tu es l'amour de ma vie. You are the love of my life.

Tu es la fille de mes rêves. You are the girl of my dreams.

Tu as de beaux yeux. You have beautiful eyes.

Je pense à toi. I am thinking of you.

Je ne peux pas vivre sans toi. I cannot live without you.

Ou as-tu été toute ma vie? Where have you been all my life?

Then, there are those love letters and short poems—all written in French. Whoever Kuina's ex-boyfriend is, I have to admit that not only is he wealthy and a romantic, but his handwriting is fucking flawless—fit to be its own special font or something. I'm impressed, and at the same time, bothered.

As I set all the notes aside, I just… can't shake off the feeling that I've seen this handwriting before.

There isn't much left. Just a few photos buried at the bottom of the box, all face down. Must be intentional on Kuina's part when she packed all of these. Carefully, I pull the first one out, noting the small message scribbled at its back.

En ta beauté gît ma mort et ma vie. Je t'aime pour toujours et à jamais. – D. M.

I read this again. And, again. And, again. And, again until I'm too sick to read it, especially those two cursive initials at the very end. But now, that sickness transforms into full-on poisonous dread because Kuina's ex-boyfriend may be someone who's closer than I thought, and as I slowly flip the photo, I pray to God—any God out there—that I'm fucking wrong.

Oh, the poison is cold. Ice cold. Cold enough to freeze my insides beyond normal functioning, and not even a dozen packets of cigarettes coupled with a hot tub of delicious stew can restore any warmth into my broken system. After gazing at the image of Kuina in the arms of the one man she should never have gone into a relationship with, I pull out my phone and start dialing with the decision that there is no God. Or maybe there is one, but he has a sadistic sense of humor and must clearly have some issues with humanity.

"Sanji." As always, my cousin—and my currently least favorite person—greets in French. "This is a surprise. I have heard that you are in Roronoa's house." Good thing that the Shitty Old Man set up a private cellphone line for him. I don't have to blow some steam on Mademoiselle Perona just to get Monsieur Stuck-Up-The-Ass on the phone.

"In your beauty rests both my death and my life. I will love you forever," I recite almost mockingly, "Does that ring a bell?"

He says nothing over the distant sound of glass shattering, and I'm secretly sneering at the image of all that wine spilling over his pants.

"So, you found out." Looking back, it makes sense. It all makes fucking sense! Mihawk and Mademoiselle Perona's keen interest in Kuina, the stares they would send towards Zoro, all those awkward moments when it's like Mihawk wants to tell my boyfriend something, but he refuses to because he turns even more brooding and he just fucking can't—"How long were you planning to hide all of this?"

"Did you need to know?" Fuck you. Fuck you and all of your damn rhetorical questions. "No one had to. I planned to keep it for as long as it was something unnecessary to admit. How did you find out?"

I pinch the bridge of my nose. God, here comes the migraine. "Kuina keeps your gifts and photos. She's here at home, by the way."

"That can't be. It's still the middle of the semester. She should be in the university—"

"FYI, she just took an LOA," I tell him in a steely voice, "Want to tell me how this started? Actually, wait. No. You don't have a choice in this, so do tell."

"It was during the exchange program between our two universities." Mihawk's voice remains steady. Flat. It's like he knew this day would come, and so he's been rehearsing his lines until he essentially killed any hint of emotion in his voice. "As you know, my family has one thing in common with Kuina's family—we take pride in our country's culture. In my university, I was the student director in charge of all exchange student affairs, and so when the students of New Japan's Jackson University arrived, that's when I met Kuina. She was elected as their group representative, and that meant that we had to work together for the entire program."

"When did you realize that you were in love?"

"When she danced."

I raise an eyebrow. "What? A prom dance or something? You do realize that Kuina has a problem with her—"

"Yes, I know about it," he immediately interjects, "And, yes, there was a prom, but by that point, I already knew that I was in love with her."

"So, when?"

"A dance of sparrows and cherry blossoms."

I narrow my eyes. If he intended to be stoic this whole time, then his voice just betrayed him. There's a certain uncharacteristic fondness in it—one that's hard to detect, but it's there.

"One night, the visiting students had to give a performance. I saw her walk on the stage by herself, wearing the kimono and head dress that she inherited from her grandmother, and I watched her dance as if the fans she carried were one with her. For a moment, I even forgot that she has that… that disability. Her dance was perfect to the very last step, and later that night, when she performed the Japanese tea ceremony for me, that's when I… knew. I knew that she was the most beautiful woman I've ever met, and I wanted her. No other woman—not in all of France, not in all of Europe—can compare. We've been dating for almost a year, and then…"

"And, then you somehow broke up with her. You did it online, didn't you? Please tell me that you had the decency to break up with her in a video call and not just some random email or chat because I swear to God, that is probably the worst way to break up with someone, and if you did, I will seriously—"

"Do not lecture me on how I should break up with someone. Yes, I broke up with her online. Yes, I did it by video call, and yes, I simply gave her the excuse that I could no longer handle a long distance relationship."

I shut my eyes, once again squeezing the bridge of my nose. "And, how long was that before you apparently went insane and then jumped to your suicide on the river?"

He's not answering, and once more, a wave of dread washes over me. I try to muster up the courage to ask—no, demand—but then he finally utters, almost feebly, "Not even a week."

Merde.

"You are a moron, Sébastien Mihawk Noir Dracule." I growl with clenched teeth, and by instinct, I look towards the door to make sure that no one—especially Kuina—is listening in on this. "You are a goddamn idiot, and I fucking swear, if you weren't my cousin, I'd murder you for having the worst timing ever."

"You are welcome to try." A drop of anger colors his voice, and that's all it takes for a cold shiver to run down my spine. I hope he doesn't sense this. "I am not proud of my actions, Sanji, but I did what I had to in order to protect her. Gently cutting any ties with her before my 'death' is much kinder than allowing her to wonder what went wrong, whether or not her love and feelings meant anything to me… Within a few days, everything came unexpected, and Perona and I were forced to run. If I am to be blamed for anything, I admit that it's the lack of foresig—"

"Yeah. A shit load of foresight because you know what? It doesn't matter what you were intending. It's done. You fucked up, and now, Kuina's suffering for it, too."

"Kuina." There's a tiny break in his voice. "What are you trying to tell me? What happened? How is Kuina—"

"Don't even fucking say her name. Just don't."

Deep down, I know that things haven't been easy for my cousin and I'm just being a major dick to him. Doesn't take away the satisfaction of making him feel even a fraction of the pain Kuina's going through right now.

"Do I have to tell you how many boyfriends—how many bad break ups she had before you? That there were times when she used to cry to me in secret because she thought that she's not worthy of finding someone who'll really love her? Do I have to tell you that this is the first time she's taking a break up this way? That maybe, she thought that you'd be the one?"

No. No, I don't have to tell him. Mihawk's silence says it all.

"Well, done. You deserve a pat on the back and an extra toast of wine because hell—you did a good job. You've done a fucking good job at not only protecting her but also destroying her self-esteem. Foresight, my ass. She's probably convinced that you actually killed yourself because the relationship must have been lacking or something. You really want to know how she's doing? Let's start with this—she has fucking depression! She had to take a damn LOA just so she can hopefully pick up the pieces! She doesn't eat properly to the point that she dropped so much weight! She looks like she barely sleeps! I don't see her smile or even say something snarky to her dumb brother! She's not the Kuina I know. Barely. She's not the one you fell in love with, either. Oh, and before I forget—we're looking to get her some professional help because guess what? Her depression comes with hallucinations, and now she's convinced that she can see your damn ghost!"

I say a lot more things—plus I've got a shit ton more to say—but Mihawk endures it all without even trying to defend his case. Quickly, I look at my phone screen to see if I've been placed on hold or if he just hung up on me. He didn't.

"Say something, damn it!" Merde. Zoro and Kuina must have heard that.

"What exactly do you want me to say? What do you want to hear from me? A simple sorry? That is not just insulting. That's an injustice." He scoffs dryly. "I told you. I have no excuses for myself, and as you said, I am dead to her. Dead men do not talk."

Whether it's Mihawk's ability to shut people up using his blunt manner of speaking or I'm just too tired, I suddenly find myself on the receiving end of his harsh words.

"I love her, but I have failed her, so you are correct—I don't even deserve to speak her name anymore. I can blame it on the circumstances, but ultimately, I have nothing to excuse myself with because I was the one who made a choice. I chose to fall in love with her, knowing that someday, she will know my secret, that something like this could possibly happen, and that her safety could be compromised. But, I chose to ignore it, and now, the both of us are left to face the consequences. I know full well that I have done this to her, so don't you dare remind me of my crimes because there is not a single day when I don't tell myself all of these. And, because I deeply am concerned for you, my dear cousin, allow me to share you some words of wisdom."

I narrow my eyes. "And, that is?"

"I'm happy for you and Roronoa Zoro. Make no mistake," he says, and I can sense the spitefulness subtly laced between his words, "But, no one likes a hypocrite."

The doorbell rings the exact same moment as I hang up the phone because I know that if I didn't, then I'd say something that will eventually land me into deep shit with my Shitty Old Man. Not that this entire conversation already won't. Fucking Mihawk.

The doorbell rings again, and I quickly stuff "The Unholy Box" under a bundle of scarves for storage before rushing towards the entrance. I slide the door open, meeting eyes with an attractive lady. She looks slightly older than me, standing tall with her long dark hair and her copper brown eyes which carry her stoic yet gentle expression.

"Hello. My name is Ain. I'm a friend of Kuina." She pauses, and the silence between us is an awkward one. "Is… Kuina here?"

"Oh, yes. Yes, she is, Mademoiselle. She should be in the kitchen with Zoro." I quickly step aside to give way. She bows her head slightly before silently—and quickly—making her way inside, and when I'm sure that she's no longer in sight, I strike myself with a face palm. Kuina's friend must have heard me bitching at Mihawk from outside. Hopefully, she doesn't study French, too.

It takes me a minute or two to calm down, and when I am, I stroll back to the kitchen where I can see Kuina chatting with Mademoiselle Ain over a plate of onigiri. The fact that she is able to eat it without the urge to keel over and vomit means that the Marimo created a success. He's eating his own while carrying Kuina's bag over his shoulder.

"You'll be fine here, won't you?" Kuina asks him as he hands over the bag to her best friend. "Otou-san will come home in a few days, and Sanji will watch over you."

The Shitty Swordsman grunts. "Yeah, whatever. I don't need the Dumb Cook to babysit me." I roll my eyes. As if he doesn't want me here. Even if Kuina didn't ask, he'd drag me in here anyway and force me to play house with him. "Don't do anything dumb." Translation: Take care. Kuina knows this, of course.

"Zoro, don't forget to polish the swords again. Do it now before you forget," she reminds him before glancing towards me, "Sanji, if you need anything, just call. Make sure he doesn't wander alone outside at night. He might get lost again."

"Of course. Your baby brother is in safe hands. Just enjoy, alright?" I happily say over the sound of the Marimo's grumbling.

"You have everything in the bag, right? We can still go and check together." Mademoiselle Ain asks as Kuina gets off the stool. I watch her intently, resuming my breath when both her feet are firmly planted on the floor.

She shakes her head. "No, I think everything's there. Ain, it's alright. I can carry my own bag."

"Kuina, you haven't changed. Stubborn as ever." Mademoiselle Ain chuckles softly as she holds her friend by the hand while taking the lead. Kuina quietly follows, the knee brace secured around her leg as she slowly walks out of the kitchen with a slight limp.

Before we even met, Kuina already had that bad leg. Something to do with a falling accident or something. Who knows? Well… Zoro does, but it's a subject that he never really wants to talk about.

The Marimo leaves the kitchen again, probably to polish the family heirlooms. So, I pull out my cellphone again and hit one of my recent numbers. The line rings, and while I wait for it to be answered, I check my watch, noting that it's almost dinner time. Muscle Brain's probably content with the onigiri, but I guess I can make something quick and easy. Maybe some sashimi with a side of agedashi tofu and rice? Normally, I'd make something more gourmet, but this is Zoro I'm dealing with. Given the choice, he'd probably go for a simple rice bowl topped with eggs versus a five course meal. Oh, and a bottle of alcohol.

"Yo," Ace casually greets behind the line, "What's up?" For someone who's dealing with the stress of handling a borderline suicidal brother on a daily basis, this guy sure knows how to sound pretty damn cheerful.

I take one deep breath. "It's Kuina." Here it goes…

"Oh God." Pause. "Sanji." And… another pause. "Did Zoro already bring out the family katanas?"

"Well, no…" Not yet.

"Right. We need to act quick," Ace continues, his voice practically racing, "Do you need help searching for an empty lot? I can ask around. Just in case, we'll need to hide the body."

"Ace."

"Or we can get Trafalgar to do us a favor and let him dispose it for us."

"Ace."

"Don't worry, Sanji. Dad can use his influence on the cops again. We'll make sure your angry boyfriend doesn't end up behind bars."

I'm face palming now, and it's not because my dear freckle faced cousin is overreacting. We can't possibly forget that one time when the dumb Marimo nearly got himself arrested for attempted murder. And, again, it had to do with Kuina.

"Seriously, this always has to happen!" Ace yells, all of his exasperation finally showing, "Why does this always happen? Who's the unlucky bastard this time?"

"About that…" Merde, how should I put it? Hey, Ace. Guess what? I just found out that Dracule Fucking Mihawk is Kuina's latest ex-boyfriend. What a coincidence, huh? Oh, God, I'm going to be sick…

"Better yet—what did the poor bastard do to Kuina this time? Remember that Hyouzou guy who used to stalk Kuina? The one with the tentacle fetish? The one who tried to stuff her mouth with octopus legs while he and his buddies were totally going to—"

"HOW THE HELL CAN YOU STILL REMEMBER THAT?"

"HOW THE HELL CAN YOU EVEN FORGET THAT?"

Ugh. Screw it, I am officially sick. "Can we please just agree to not answer those questions?"

"Agreed, but still—" Dammit, Ace, didn't we just agree right now?"I mean—we've seen a lot of things, but that's… pretty high up there. Sabo and I tagged along to help beat the crap out of Hyouzou—not cover for the guy just so Zoro doesn't chop his balls off with one of his great-great-great-great-great-great whatever grandfather's katana.

I groan, clearly remembering how the Shitty Marimo brought all of his family swords—national treasures, mind you—and was just about short of castrating his sister's stalker/near rapist on the spot. It was like the guy was possessed by some demon, and it took a combined effort from Ace, Sabo, and I, plus a couple of police officers just to make sure that Zoro doesn't end up ruining his kendou career by actually killing someone.

And, now the image of Zoro stabbing Mihawk with the said weapons popped into my head. Fuck it, it isn't appealing—but what's worse and frighteningly even more plausible? A super dead Marimo.

"Okay, but really—what happened to Kuina, and who's your bushido boyfriend going to kill this time?"

"Two things—one, Kuina has depression coupled with some hallucinations after a really shitty break up."

"Oh my fucking God, that guy is dead."

"And… two, the ex-boyfriend is Mihawk."

"Oh my fucking God, Zoro might actually die."

"Yeah, thanks, Captain Obvious, you're very helpful." I glance at the door, checking to see if I'm still alone. "But it doesn't matter. The ex is 'dead' anyway, and as long as You-Know-Who doesn't find out, then we're all good."

"Right." A tiny bit of forced laughter rings behind the line. "But yeah, who would have thought, huh? That really sucks, especially for Kuina. I mean… you know…"

"Yeah, I know, and "sucks" is an understatement." I roll my eyes. "So, now that you know, I called because I wanted to ask for your therapist's number."

"Sure, man. Hey, I'll even put in a referral for you, too. I'll be seeing him next week with Luffy anyway." There's a heaviness in his voice, his tone dying in the last few words. Ace will never openly admit it to anyone—at first—but I've known him long enough to tell when he's bottling up his feelings.

"So, how's Luffy?" I ask, making sure to sound casual about it.

"He's fine now."

"Good to hear."

"He's adjusting." He sighs, and I'm trying to decide on whether it's out of exhaustion or resignation. "I know that things… aren't exactly how I pictured it for the both of us, but it takes time, I guess. We can make things work."

"Of course it will because knowing you, you're going to work your ass off just to make it happen," I tell him while inspecting the fridge once more for possible dinner ideas, "You're a stubborn guy. It's your best and sometimes worst quality."

Ace chuckles dryly from behind the line. "Thanks for the encouragement. Luffy needs it. As it is, we're still trying to get him used to sleeping without a nightlight."

"How bad?"

"Some nights are better than others." He pauses. "Every night, I wait until he's deep asleep so I can switch off the light for him, but sometimes, he'd wake up from a nightmare."

I pull out a box of tofu along with some raw tuna slices. Digging deeper, I also find a pot of miso soup at the back. "What kind of nightmares?"

"Beats me. He never wants to talk about it, but I know it's bothering him. He hides a lot of things from me."

"Don't take it personally." I close the fridge with the necessary ingredients in hand before heading to the sink. "Maybe he's just not used to having someone who's all over him. Didn't you say that your granddad wasn't always there for him?"

"Huh, Sabo said something similar."

"See? It's fine, I'm telling you."

"Yeah, thanks." He sighs as I'm rinsing the tofu. "I just… I hope that I can help, you know…" His words remain hanging, and all that remains is unspoken hesitation. I dry my hands, setting aside the cooking for now because I know Ace, and I know where this is going.

Portgas D. Ace can be a dumb ass all he wants, but a self-pitying one? Hell, no. Early this week was bad enough—what with Robin-chwan's return.

"Sometimes, I think of how I acted back then, you know?" Ace quietly admits, "Go ahead and say it. I was a brat, and I gave everyone a hard time. So, I want to apologize because now, I'm starting to realize how it feels to be pushed away and… sometimes, Sanji, I even wonder how we actually made it this far—"

"Ace, I swear—do me a favor and shut the fuck up because I already had to hang up the phone once today. Don't make me do it again."

For a moment, Ace stays silent, and a part of me starts to rethink my words, but then he starts to laugh, and I'm rolling my eyes at the curious case that is my cousin's mood swings.

"So, I guess this makes me special, huh?" he asks wryly.

"Trust me—if you ever pull off a stunt like what my other cousin did, then I'll fucking kick your ass."

"I'll keep that in mind."

I snort. "You were a pain in the ass, but guess what? Same here. So, call it even. I don't need any apology from you. Seriously, the both of us have been through a lot of shit after all these years—you, especially. So, it doesn't matter. What does is that we stick together because that's what family does, and the same goes for Luffy. He needs you."

"You really think I can help him?"

"Ask me that one more time, and I will be there in five minutes to kick your ass, so I can make myself clear." He shuts up. Good. "Look, if there's anyone who can, it's you, and I don't want to waste my time by giving a complete list of reasons for why. So, just quit your whining and do what you have to do because trust me—the last thing Luffy needs to know is that his brother thinks he's a hopeless case."

"He's not a hopeless case."

"Really? That wasn't what I was hearing a minute ago."

"He's not," he says fiercely, causing me to smile a bit. Well, my work's done. Ace is back—complete with the intense Big Brother Complex, of course.

I take the rinsed tofu with me to the kitchen counter where the left over slices of tuna are. "Good. Glad we're on the same page."

"Whatever. What's with the great pep talk skills all of a sudden?"

"Dick. Don't pretend that Sabo and I aren't the ones who help you get up from your sorry ass."

"Right."

"Besides, Luffy's your brother, and if he's anything like you, then he doesn't want a pity party—which you get from me anyway."

"What?"

"In my mind, of course."

"Have I ever told you how much of an ass hat you are to me?"

"I probably never hear it over the sound of my charm." Oh, if only he can see the smirk on my face right now…

Except, this vanishes when strong arms catch me off guard and pull me away from my kitchen duties. A small sound escapes me—shit, did Ace just hear that?—as my back collides with a chest that's too familiar to me, and now, I'm trapped as his lips begin to leave a wet trail of hungry kisses on the crook of my neck.

"Oi!" I try to kick and shove him off, only for the Stupid Marimo to steal my phone while pinning me against the edge of the counter. The situation suddenly hits a new level of mortifying because not only is Ace hearing all of this, but fuck—I'm bent over with my ass practically sticking up for this bastard behind me. It's hard to ignore his gloating along with that prominent knob that's grinding against me.

Shit. I'm getting hard. I'm getting hard because my boyfriend's dry humping me from behind while I'm on the phone with my cousin—what is wrong with me? I need to fix my life priorities.

"Ace. Hang up the damn phone now." Oh my God, is he actually using his fucking bedroom voice while simultaneously groping me? Someone please kill me now. "Yeah, I'll take good care of him. Bye." This fucker.

When he hangs up the phone and puts it aside, I take this chance to land a kick on him. He dodges this, and I'm barely able to register the speed it took for him to shove me against the wall with his hand leading my leg to wrap around his waist.

"You dick—" He's unbuttoning my shirt, and I want to hurl more insults at him, but I can only come up with groans as he brands my skin with sharp bites and deep red marks.

"You want it already, Ero Cook?" he whispers huskily.

"You're the one who's—" I gasp, blood immediately flowing south as his clothed member—solid, thick and damp—brushes against my own. My body automatically returns the gesture, and this causes Zoro to release a predatory growl before he smashes his lips against mine.

I miss this. I'll never openly admit it, but I miss the way we use our tongues to battle for dominance. Dressrosa doesn't count. We barely got the chance for this kind of foreplay. So, I give as good as I get—which I always do because no way in hell am I allowing that smug Marimo's ego to inflate itself even more—but his hands keep roaming across my groin, and I feel myself reduced to putty by his touch.

Fine. I'll give this fight to him for now.

Zoro pulls back, and I suck up some air as his lips run down my throat. "Been a while," he mutters, clearly echoing my previous thoughts.

I scowl, grabbing him by the face to stop his ministrations. "Then, why the hell did you stop?" He doesn't produce a quick enough answer, so I pull him forward, landing another kiss. He easily reciprocates, and I angle my head to allow him deeper access. Both my legs are clinging around him now, and without breaking the intense make out session we're currently having, he carries me out of the kitchen.

We don't make it far. It might be the excitement or impatience that made my boyfriend settle for the room where the famous family swords are displayed in the alcove. As he sets me on the mat, leaving me vulnerable to hungry looking eyes that drink up the sight of me getting undressed, I think to myself that I need this.

I'm desperate. I want to forget—at least just for now—all the shitty things that life's been throwing at me lately. The piling amount of homework. New strategies for the upcoming football league. Curriculum deadlines for the next culinary club meeting. My late night "internship" at the restaurant. Angsty cousins. Mihawk. Family. Mafia plots and conspiracies possibly brewing as I lay down here with a boyfriend who's oblivious to all the lies and secrets that I've been keeping from him all this time…

"No one likes a hypocrite."

"Zoro." His skilled tongue is swirling around my nipple, but I want more. I want him to hold me. Hold me the way he always does. "Screw the foreplay. Just fuck me now." Hold me as if I were to suddenly leave tomorrow, and he'd kill to have me stay with him forever.

Even if his half-lidded eyes flare with full-blown lust by my demand, he continues planting tiny butterfly kisses on my chest as if he didn't even hear me. I bite back a desperate whine, and I reach out to unbuckle his belt, only for Zoro to catch both my hands and pin them above my head. Without warning, two fingers plunge inside me, and by reflex, my legs widely spread apart as I produce a whimper.

"You aren't tight." He adds a third digit, earning a tiny hiss from me. "Oi, Ero Cook—you touch yourself every night, don't you? You imagine that it's me—not your fingers—fucking you hard in the ass?"

"S-Shut up…" I'm not going to give him the satisfaction of knowing that it's true—yet my body contradicts my words as I try to sink further down those rough, calloused fingers. "A-Ah…! Ahhhh…!" My body begins to shiver as pleasurable feelings swim across my groin. Pre-cum is forming on my hard dick as I bury myself deeper for him to reach my prostate. But, this moss haired fucker decides to pull them out before he actually does, and I'm left screaming from his sudden steak of sadism.

I fucking swear—I don't care if I have to knock him out just so I can ride the hell out of him. I'm getting that damn monster cock of his inside me whether he wants it now or not.

The Stupid Marimo gets up, adding to my list of pent-up frustrations. Where the hell is he going? "Stay," he whispers hoarsely, and I'm confused as he heads to where his family's set of katana is displayed. Without a word, he picks up the one with the ivory white scabbard before turning to me.

"W-Wait, you're not—" Dread replaces all previous sensations as I immediately scramble back. "What the hell are you going to do with that?"

"It'll spread you better than a cheap toy."

"Th-That's a national treasure! That's your ancestor's fucking sword you're thinking of using as a dildo!"

"That makes it mine." He shrugs nonchalantly. "I'll do whatever the hell I want with it."

That's it. It's official. Roronoa Zoro is fucking insane, and I'm going to die horribly after tonight. I should have left a will. I should have given proper goodbyes to Ace, the Shitty Old Man and everyone else. Hell, I should have given one to Mihawk. Death by katana ass rape? Add that to the list of history's weirdest deaths. Didn't he just fucking clean that earlier?

The Shitty Marimo moves fast, holding me down before I have the chance to run for it, and I'm kicking and screaming for him—and more importantly, that literal murder weapon—to get off me. I manage to land a couple of blows—and hell yeah, I'm satisfied by that—although these do nothing to faze him as he grabs me by the jaw and forces me into a kiss that reduces all my struggles to desperate grinds, and wet, wanton moans. Shit, I really am his bitch.

Zoro pulls back from the longest kiss we shared tonight, a lengthy string of saliva connecting our lips as I'm panting unsteadily. He's holding my chin tight, securing my full attention. "It's my sword. It's a part of me." A violent shiver rocks my body as the blunt hilt of his katana strokes my entrance. Is it because I'm scared or… excited? Fuck, he keeps rubbing it against me, and it makes me so hard that it hurts! This is wrong. So, so wrong… "I want to see this part of me enter you."

"It's going to rip me apart, stupid swordsman." It's a half-hearted attempt to argue, and he knows it. I'm blaming it on the way that he's looking at me right now… his usual scowl replaced by an unreadable expression that can intimidate others yet calm me at the same time.

"I'll stop if it becomes too much." Sometimes, when it's just the two of us, he look at me like that. "I know you can take it." Sometimes, it's like I'm dealing with a different person altogether.

And, yet, it doesn't bother me. He's still Zoro, at the end of the day. He's still the Dumb Marimo that I've hopelessly fallen in love with.

I hold my breath, parting my legs and ignoring the fact that he's staring at my most intimate regions as if it's our first time all over again. "Oi. Don't make me change my damn mind." It's not everyday that I'll trust this idiot to stick some antique weapon up my ass. But, then again, I'd hate to think what his father and Kuina would think if they only knew. His ancestors must be rolling in their graves right now at their shameless excuse of a descendant, my God, oh shit—

He's sliding the sword's hilt inside my entrance. My mind shuts down as pain sears on my walls, and I'm gasping. The pause is too short. He's thrusting it further in, and I'm gritting my teeth, throwing my head back because it hurts so fucking much and yet—and yet—"Nggh… A-Ahh…! Ah! Ahhhhh!"

His movements suddenly stop. The blunt edge is just halfway in, and I'm breathless as I try to get used to the size. Sweat drenches my skin as a series of unintelligible words spill from my lips and the surface of my back is sticking to the mat below. Shit, it still hurts. It still hurts so bad, but it's close… so close… I can feel it. Just a bit more…

A low guttural moan resonates from my throat as I roll my hips, shifting so I can press myself further down the hilt. Close… so close…! But… But, Zoro remains still, and when I gaze at him, I pick up the hints of uncertainty in that otherwise blank expression of his. Fuck. Oh fuck!

I hiss loudly from both the pain and the pleasure—I can't tell which is which at this point—as my hand grabs his. "Y-You started thi-this…!" I glare, seeing the surprise in his face. "Fucking—fucking fini—" My voice rips into a scream after I practically impale myself. But, I don't stop there. I do it again, and again, and again until it's Zoro plunging it in me in a swift yet steady rhythm, the smirk on his lips matching the dark shade of desire in his eyes.

Pre-cum drips onto my stomach as the sword hilt pistons in and out of me. A string of gasps and screams escape me as heat consumes my throbbing cock, and my hands are practically shaking as I try to wrap them around it. I need to release, and Zoro knows this. He knows this so well, and yet he wrenches my hands off and locks my wrists above my head once more.

"BASTARD!" I want to punch this guy! Screw everything about preserving my hands for cooking! I want to fucking punch this asshole, but shit! Oh, shit! I-I need to come…! "YOU FUCKING BASTA—AAAAAH!" White fills my vision after one particular shove hits my prostate, and it's this reaction that cues Zoro to continue pounding the solid object with reckless abandon towards that same spot. "Z-Zoro…! Zoro…! Sh-Shit… A-Ahhhhhhh! Fuuuuck!"

Waves of pleasure racks my entire being, and I'm shamelessly writhing and screaming beneath him in a delightfully dirty combination of English, French and Japanese. My boyfriend is used to this, merely grunting at my odd sex quirk. He knows how to shut me up anyway, and he does so by leaning forward, capturing my lips in a rough, sloppy kiss which I eagerly return with eyes snapped shut as he continues to pound me there… there… Shit, right there…

I toss my head back, my screams hitting the highest note as streams of cum erupt from my cock, spilling all over my stomach, my thighs, the Marimo's shirt and the mat… Shit, it's a fucking mess. How the hell did I manage to come this much without even getting touched?

Slowly, I take this chance to regain my breath while being brought back from that sense of euphoric high. I'll need a damn shower after this. I'm filthy all over, my body coated in sweat, drool and semen… And damn, since when did I start crying? It's only now that I can trace the stream of tears that trailed from my eyes.

"So lewd. Don't let anyone else see you like this." Zoro slides the hilt of his katana out of my abused hole, and I wince while hearing the loud squelching noise that accompanies the action. Then, I quietly watch him as he gives his family treasure a long lick despite the small hint of blood on its tip. Fucking shameless. "Don't ever let anyone touch you like this. Only I can. You're mine. Don't ever leave me again."

"When did I ever—?" I protest weakly, only for my boyfriend to silence me with a hard kiss that matches my boyfriend's blatant possessiveness. I close my eyes, moaning while kissing fervently in return.

Whatever. My boyfriend's always jealous whenever I'm around other people. That's probably what he means. And, what's with the samurai talk again? God, sometimes, he just breaks into that unexpectedly—switching his usual "ore" to pronouns like "sessha." Who still says that? He probably watched too many feudal-era movies or something. Doesn't exactly help that his ancestors were legit samurai in the past, too. Not that any of these things matter at the moment.

I buck my hips, applying enough force for us to immediately reverse positions. After sliding off his unbuttoned shirt and undoing his belt, I pull back from the kiss with a smirk. He seems surprised. "You haven't even come yet," I casually remind him as I straddle his groin, causing him to react by hissing loudly. Rubbing against that enormous tent between his legs is no accident.

"Good you remembered, Shit Cook." He groans again after another sway of my hips. "Helps me save my breath."

"You were taking things too slow, earlier." Well, he dropped the samurai speech. "Thought I would have to knock you out just so I can ride you."

"Less talking. More riding." My boyfriend grins while kicking off his pants and settling his head on one of the floor pillows. His cock springs free from its restraints, causing me to gulp at its impressive size and girth. Sometimes, it's hard to believe how well-endowed my boyfriend is.

But, as I slowly sink down after angling my puckered opening over the large head of Zoro's cock, I start to think that hey—as hellishly painful as it was, the katana served its purpose. After all, it doesn't take too long for me to go bobbing up and down while the entire room is filled with the collective sounds of groans, curse words, and skin slapping against skin. It doesn't take too long for him to let it all out, either.

The tofu and raw tuna spoiled overnight. That fact hit me this morning when I woke up to a grumbling stomach and a horny Marimo who insisted that I help him out with his "morning problem." Seriously, his libido is freaking inhuman. If he ever openly admits that he secretly jacks off every hour, then I wouldn't be surprised. Honestly, I'd be more shocked by the fact that he's only telling me now.

Good thing it's a Saturday. That means fresh, high-quality and ultra-affordable ingredients at the Farmer's Market.

"Thank you, Mademoiselle." I wink at the blonde vendor woman who returns my gesture with a brilliant smile. Without turning away from her and that cute braid that she's sporting, I shove the bag of heirloom tomatoes to my boyfriend who's standing behind me. "Oi, Marimo. Carry this, will you?" I don't need to look at him to know that he's not pleased at all.

"You do it," he mutters for the nth time today.

I roll my eyes, ignoring his response as I head towards the next stall. Just because I'm bi doesn't mean that I'm going to cheat on him with every attractive person I see—especially women. "After last night, I shouldn't even be walking. Be thankful that I care about what you eat."

He follows after me, and it doesn't really matter what's said between the both of us because he's still holding onto the tomatoes along with the other items on our list. "Don't worry. I can live on just eating you up."

"Real food, moss brain!" Heat builds up on my face at an alarming rate, and I look around to see if anyone heard that vulgar comment. Thankfully, no one did.

Yeah, sure. Zoro may be openly gay—he once admitted it in a talk show interview, much to the horror of his female fans as well as conservatives that are still hoping for the continuation of the famous Roronoa line—but our relationship isn't something that I'm planning to broadcast in public. No way in hell is my face appearing on the cover of some cheap tabloid. The media's still in the process of milking Luffy's—sorry, Lucio Newgate's—backstory for all it's worth, and I don't envy him for that.

"Oi, Shit Cook. Are we almost done?" Breathe. One, two— "I saw a stall that's selling craft beer. I'm going there." Merde, I am so done with his shit.

"Don't you dare wander off." I turn to him with a warning glare. "This market is huge. You're going to get lost, and I'm going to spend the rest of the day searching the entire city for you."

Zoro snorts adamantly, choosing to ignore my threat by marching towards the opposite direction. "Whatever! It's just there!" Really? Because last time, "just there" meant a crosstown trip towards the East Blue river. Given his dyslexia when it comes to directions, it's a fucking miracle that the Marimo can even navigate his way around his own house.

He disappears behind the bustling crowd of people. I roll my eyes at his stubbornness. Whatever. We've got our smart phones, and the Find My Friends App installed. It's just a matter of me checking the screen and tracking down the idiot before he ends up on a ship sailing towards the mainland or something. Oh, the wonders of technology.

And, should he lose his phone—which happens a lot, sadly—I have eyes around the city, thanks to the Shitty Old Man whose paranoia knows no bounds. We've got a network of our own spies—some of them definitely keeping tabs on me at this very moment—so I'll always know where the Dumb Marimo ran off to, one way or another.

I stroll further down the market, and after a quick purchase of olive oil, I check to see the list of ingredients that I made earlier. Tomatoes are in season, so some fresh pasta would be great. A creamy pesto sauce will be a nice touch, too. For sides… since the Marimo mentioned craft beer, maybe some beer-battered chicken fingers? Oh, he'll love that. He'll love it so much that he'll probably demand for sex right after lunch. Then again, Kuina won't be home until tomorrow evening, so he's going to demand for sex either way. Horny bastard.

Then, Ace is probably going to send another asshole text when I get up. Just like this morning.

"Hope you had fun last night! ;)" he wrote. Ugh. Fucker.

My phone's ringing. I scoff, hitting the answer button and placing the receiver next to my ear. Not even five minutes in, and he's already calling for help? Such a man child. "Oi, Dumb Marimo. Where the hell did you go this time?"

But, there's no answer. Only static noises and a chain of deep, haggard breaths—the kind of breathing that you'd hear in horror movies. The usual medley of people's footsteps, jingling coins and vendors announcing special bargains all drown out against a very long and eerie silence. It sends my heart racing, and quickly, I glance at my phone screen to take note of the caller ID.

Unknown.

"No one can protect you," a man's voice finally says in a lifeless monotone, "No one."

I narrow my eyes. "Who the hell are you? Is this some kind of prank call? Very funny."

"We know Blackleg Zeff has men watching over you," the voice continues just as I was about to hang up, causing me to freeze, "But no can protect you. We killed all but one… just one more…"

"I don't know what you're talking about." This is bad. Really bad. He shouldn't even know that. He shouldn't know our name. No one but a select few even knows about the Blackleg Family's extensive network of spies, much less its existence. Have we been compromised? So, how did he find out? And, who else knows?

"SANJI!" A familiar cry rips through the silence, and I feel like I'm going to puke. Merde. That voice. It's Gin's. "S-SANJI! RUN! STAY AWAY FROM HIM! H-HE'S CRAZY! HE'S CRA—!" A sudden shriek pierces through my ear drums along with a sick, crunching noise that follows.

I don't know how long I've been standing here. I don't know how I'm able to stand when my knees feel as weak as jelly. I don't even know how long it took until all the screams died down along with Gin's life, and it doesn't matter how hardened I've become over the past few years. I'm going to be sick.

"Who are you?" I whisper, my trembling hand struggling to keep the phone still, "Are you one of those guys trying to kidnap me?" I don't mention Ace or Luffy. If shit were to go down at this very instant, then at least I can keep those two away from it.

"We are trying to save a life."

Damn. So, he's not alone. "Who's we?"

"A life for a life," he merely says with the same flat tone, "Your death is his salvation." His salvation? What the hell does that mean?

"Think again, dumb ass. I think it's the other way around." Forget it. I'm not taking any damn chances because that's exactly what these guys want. No, if these guys managed to kill Gin and the others, then I'll need to send a message to the Old Man. Now. "You're full of shit, you got that? You don't know who you're messing with right here." I need a name. A detail. Something to work with. "I'm going to ask you again—who the hell are you and who do you work for?"

"Roronoa Kuina has been experiencing some misfortunes lately." The sound of glass against concrete smashes in the background. Beneath my soles, a puddle of olive oil runs. "It would be… unfortunate if she were to lose her brother today, no?"

The image of Zoro's grinning face flashes in my mind.

"Imagine. Imagine as we slit your lover's throat over and over again. Imagine how quick it will be, almost painless. Imagine all the blood gushing out. Imagine how his skin would run as cold as ice instead of warming you, and how the life in his eyes will disappear. We can do it."

"You touch him, and I'll fucking kill you," I swear, and at this point, I don't care that I garnered a couple of odd looks from people who heard me, "I will hunt you down. I will poison you. I will stab you with every goddamn knife I own, cut you up, and I won't stop, even if you beg. But, don't worry. I'll make sure to keep you alive by an inch of your life while slowly stewing you in your own blood. And, when you do die, I'll personally feed your ugly bits to the dogs because a funeral is too good for scum like you."

"We can see it all. We know where he is."

My grip tightens around the phone. "You're bluffing."

"He is heading towards the station, isn't he?" Lie. It's got to be a trap… isn't it? "We will see him there." I know that he hung up on me, and even if he didn't, I would because there's something—someone—more important to worry about. Now, I'm cursing aloud at the sluggish pace that it takes for a damn phone application to load.

But, it finally shows, and I can see Zoro's position blinking in the map. He's nearing the subway… just as that guy said.

I run. I run as fast as I can, ignoring the morbid visions in my mind along with the number of curses and insults hurled at me from several people who I unceremoniously shove out of my way. Because Zoro might just die, and it'll be on me. Because I'm too goddamn in love with him and that alone got him involved in this shit.

A sour taste runs in my mouth when I think of Mihawk and his reasons for breaking up with Kuina. God, this isn't the time to be sympathetic. But, once this is over—and with Zoro alive and breathing—I am going to give that guy the biggest fucking apology he's ever going to hear from me in his life.

I can already see the stairway entrance that leads to the subway with police tape blocking the path. So, I speed up, and I tear apart the plastic material before running down the stairs, skipping over a few steps at a time. A dangling "Closed for Renovation" sign remains ignored.

God, of all the stations for him to enter, it just hasto be Whiskey Peak Station. It's one of the city's major hubs—a stopover for about eight major lines that transverse across the city, and it's infamously known among tourists for being large enough to easily get lost in.

"Oi, Zoro! Zoro!" Despite the lack of people flooding the area, it still manages to be a fucking maze that's difficult to navigate through. The place is dimly lit today, casting large shadows from the heavily cemented pillars which towered and supported the ceilings. My eyes shift from left to right, searching for Zoro or for any potential ambush that could jump from behind. No signs of anyone—especially not my clueless boyfriend. I curse under my breath, and I take one of the station's long stairs that descends to more hallways and platforms. Arrows and signs point towards different directions, but I barely have time to go through these because I'm practically going on instinct here. "ZORO!" Shit, where the hell is he?

Wait.

I stop on my tracks, listening to the sound of my footsteps resonating across the halls. They become faint echoes, drowned out by the sound of a tiny groan that veered towards the right fork. Zoro? Or… someone else?

Another groan cracks the eerie silence, followed by a set of contained whispers. Slowly, I head towards the source, but not without drawing a cold, metal edge from the recesses of my pocket. With the press of a safety button, a switchblade smoothly flicks from its position.

"There is a North Blue bound local train arriving in 5 minutes," says the usual PSA voice over as I tread down the platform. I go at a slow pace, heart pounding loudly against my chest as I focus on each incoming pillar. No one. I stop every few steps, taking a quick look over my shoulder to see if anyone's approaching. No one. It remains so silent that I might just be able to hear a pin drop if it actually does. Maintaining a defensive hold of my knife, I continue to move forward.

Merde. What's this feeling that I can't shake off? That someone's… watching me? It terrifies me, and I'm not sure if it's because I could be imagining things… or because my senses usually have a record of being spot on in situations like these. Right now, they're screaming at me to get the hell away from here while I still can.

Another faint mumble, this time coming from my left. My head spins towards the direction of the train tracks. What the hell? Something's there? Slowly, I draw closer for a better look.

And, as I look below, I can feel all the blood suddenly drain from my face.

Bodies. No. Corpses on the tracks. Corpses rendered nearly unrecognizable with crushed organs gushing out rivers of fresh blood. Flies have already gathered, swarming around them to feed on their rotting skins which emit a copper-like stench. A wave of nausea overcomes me, and I swear that if my mind wasn't steeled for something like this, I would have keeled over at the sight.

"There is a North Blue bound local train arriving in 3 minutes."

Somehow, I manage to spot Gin among the pile of mangled corpses, his crushed skull bearing some semblance of a blank expression that sends me chills. One particularly large fly buzzes mid-air before entering through his broken jaw. His limbs have either been trodden on or ripped apart, and gruesome holes have punctured his broken frame after having been mercilessly stabbed to death and run over by an incoming train once… probably even twice… I can't tell.

My mind goes on overdrive, torn between the need to instantly grieve over members of the Blackleg Family and the desire for some form of desperate reassurance as my eyes scavenge for any sign of Zoro among the mass of corpses.

No. He's not here. Thank God… I don't know how I'd be able to take it if he… if he… Please, don't die, Zoro, don't you fucking die on me—

More whispering—and that's neither coming from Gin nor any of the other deceased. I practically still, heart slamming against my rib cage as my ears tune to a soft, monotone voice that's coming from behind. Then, the mumbling quickly dies down, only to be replaced by the sound of rapidly charging footsteps. I immediately turn around, ready to stab the motherfucker, only to encounter an unexpected force that sends me off-balance.

"There is a North Blue bound local train arriving in 2 minutes."

A slow, dull pain shoots across my sides from the rough landing. Flies scatter angrily as I jolt up from my position, my mind mentally screaming in terror from not only being surrounded by the bodies of people I once knew but also the possibility of death if I don't get the hell out of here right now. In my panic, I knock aside a few dismembered limbs which smear blood on my once pristine outfit. Time is ticking.

Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit…!

My view darts towards the platform ledge. On any normal occasion, I know that I can easily climb over it, but…

"It's better for you to die here." Someone says, and I turn towards the owner of that voice.

And, I think that if the Grim Reaper wore white instead of black, then this must be him in the flesh.

Above the platform stands someone whose loose, white hoodie matches his chalk white skin. He's tall and skinny, his long blonde hair wrapped in a ponytail, and his face masked with an unreadable expression as his dark gaze falls on me. He bends over to pick up my knife which fell from my grip, allowing the sharp edge to glint towards me in a subtle warning.

"It's better for you to die here," the son of a bitch repeats with the same monotonous voice that I recognize from earlier, "To end his suffering. To end yours."

I snarl, searching frantically for any openings where I can easily scale up the platform ledge and beat the shit out of this guy, only to find none. I can be fast, but I'm positive that this guy won't hesitate to cut my fingers off should I even try.

"Two choices. Only one can be made. The knife or the train?" he says as if he read my thoughts, "Choose wisely."

"How's about you be the one to get stabbed and run over a thousand times over?" My threat elicits no reaction from him, and just for this moment, all my fears of dying gave way to unbridled fury which burns throughout my veins. For killing Gin and everyone else, for threatening to hurt the one I love, for putting me through this hell hole, I want nothing more than the satisfaction of making good on my threat and tearing this motherfucker to bloody chunks of human flesh for all the flies and rats to feast on.

But, for that to happen, I need to find a way out of here. Fast.

"Even with your athletic speed, you will not make it." That B-rated horror movie reject says, as if his words alone can squash my hopes for a last ditch attempt to save myself. He twirls my knife with a flick of his wrist. "You cannot escape your fate."

"There is a North Blue bound local train arriving in one minute."

I look around, searching for any form, anything, for a possible escape, only to find none. At the same time, my knees feel weak, ready to collapse as cold sweat drenches my trembling form.

I'm… I'm not even going to snap back. I can't even because no matter how much I keep up the pretense, no matter how much I look at it, he's right. There is no escape. Only sixty precious yet agonizing seconds left until I'm… I'm going to fucking die… killed in a grotesque manner by this fucking psycho.

"Do not be afraid to die." His words contain an air of mockery behind badly disguised tenderness. The hint of a sick smile cracks on his pale lips—one that fuels my blood to boil amidst despair. "Do not be afraid. This is better for you. If you do not die today, then you will suffer greatly later—your body broken and morphed, your feelings of hatred and abandonment consuming you. Death is kind to you today."

Listening to this guy, I realize that Gin's wrong. He isn't just crazy. He's insane.

"You like being an achiever, don't you?" The man in white drones on, "You like it because it makes you feel good. It makes you feel superior, that you have some worth. It makes you forget that you were the hated son among your real siblings. And, the one person you call "Brother"—he has his own brother who is showered with all of his undivided love and affection. You detest that. That's why you'll hurt him. We cannot allow that. If you do not die today, you will only hurt the one we love."

I grit my teeth, my heart beat racing further. "What the hell are you talking about? I don't even have any siblings."

"Do not lie, Vinsmoke Sanji." His vicious words produce the powerful echo of a name that rattled me to my very core. It's a name that I never thought I'd hear again. A name that I never wanted to hear at all.

And, suddenly, I've been brought down to my knees even though, barely a minute ago, I refused to look weak. I tried to be strong. I tried to remain proud and dignified throughout all of this…

How? "Who the hell are you?" How does he know that name?

The fear of death and that debilitating sense of despair cast themselves as an unbearable weight on my shoulders, and while I'm both physically and mentally crumbling before this psycho, he continues to remain unmoved. "We are merely Seers," he says with absolute detachment, "We see everything—and we have seen your final hour."

The final hour. I can hear those three words repeat themselves like a broken record in the back of my mind… just as a barrage of different faces and precious memories start to fill my head until it seems ready to explode… just as the metal tracks below my feet start to rumble, and I can hear the distant roar of a train's engine which sounds more like an angry beast woken from slumber.

"There is a North Blue bound local train now arriving. Please stand behind the platform edge."

I'm shaking. I'm fucking scared. I'm going to scream any second now. Hell, I'm probably going to start bawling my eyes out, too. I want to beg—and it's not for this sorry life of mine to be spared.

If you can read my mind, you bastard… then I'm fucking begging you—let it end here. Don't hurt anyone else. Not Papa. Not Ace. Not… Not Zoro.

"Let us comfort you." I can imagine that sick smile plastered on his face, just as we can see the light from inside the tunnel gradually form.

"Know that your estranged sister loves you. Some of the men I have killed today—they were tasked by her to watch over you."

Cold wind starts to gather. It felt like Death's invisible fingers brushing aside my filthy, sweat drenched bangs before wrapping me around its cruel embrace.

"Know that your adopted father and your beloved cousin will mourn for you deeply as will everyone else. Yes, you will be dearly missed."

The sound produced by the train's engine is louder, more pronounced. I close my eyes before I get the chance to see the tunnel brighten from those blinding headlights. No, I don't want that to be the last thing I see.

"Know that Roronoa Zoro will mourn for you the most—that you were and will always be the one he truly loves." I love you too, Zoro.

I'm in no liberty to ask for any last minute requests. Not that this guy would grant me one. Not that I have any time left. But, if I must die… I want to see that soft green hair which I'd love to run my fingers through… that sun-kissed skin… I want to see that one and only dazzling smile and that strong gaze which makes me grow weak, that makes me feel like nothing else matters.

For someone like me, it might be too much to ask—but I want to die, neither in the face of Death nor Despair… but in the face of Love.

The tracks shake harder. A blaring sound rips across the silence, followed by a pain-filled unnatural shriek and the sound of my name being screamed from the top of the lungs.

Am I… hearing things? A trick of my cruel imagination? Should I dare to hope?

"SANJI!" There it goes again. "SANJI! OPEN YOUR FUCKING EYES AND GRAB MY HAND, DAMN IT!"

So, I dare. I dare to see that ray of hope again. I dare to catch the sight of Zoro who's kneeling on the platform, reaching his hands out to me. I dare to look at those eyes which burn with a fueled mixture of fear, anxiety, worry, concern, overprotectiveness and an unstoppable rage.

The both of us can already see the front of the train emerge from the tunnel on the opposite end. Without thinking further, I instantly get up, grabbing onto his hands while trying to scale up the platform edge as quickly as I can. He musters up all the strength he can, desperately trying to pull me up.

"I love you." I want to tell him—just in case—but I don't because he shoots me a hardened gaze which I fully understand.

"Don't you fucking say it." Once again, there are no need for words between the two of us. His expression says it all. "Don't you fucking say anything. You're not allowed to die today. I won't let you die." And, with that, he pulls me back, and I'm suddenly thrown into the air.

I gasp for breath, trying to gather my bearings after a rough landing on the cement floor, but a violent shudder escapes me instead as I hear the angry screeches against the tracks behind me. I roll over, only to watch the train rush past without stopping until it finally disappears inside the next tunnel.

And, I don't look to see what's left of the bodies below—or to imagine what could have been.

"How?" Behind me, I can hear the stranger's voice—and this time, his voice cracks with raw emotion. It cracks with fear. "How did we not see this? How did we not see you?"

But, I don't hear Zoro respond. I immediately spin around, and I can already see that he's gotten up, and he retrieves my switchblade which must have fallen down when he pushed that guy aside. I don't miss the assassin's face blanch further than it already has as Zoro wields the knife with one hand like how a trained assassin would—with precision and the absolute motivation for vengeance.

That previous fire I saw a moment ago has already been extinguished—and all that is left is a cold mask of deadly calmness. Zoro—my Zoro who's known to be extremely rash and straightforward with all of his blatantly displayed emotions—is gone, replaced by the stranger that stands in front of me. A predator that's ready to hunt for its prey.

I've only seen him like this once in my life… and just like back then, this… this side of him… it really scares me.

In a flash, the killer produces his own knife from his pocket, throwing it towards my direction. It's a poor throw, but Zoro doesn't take any chances. He charges fast, using my knife to block the incoming dagger before I can even try to dodge it. And, while this happens, the man quickly turns tail and escapes towards the nearest exit. Zoro lets out a guttural growl, ready to track him down and possibly stab him to death—but despite that pleasing mental image, I grab him by his free hand and give it a tight squeeze.

Don't—I want to tell him, but perhaps my near-death experience has finally sunk in, making it more all the more difficult for me to formulate the proper words—Don't. I thought I was going to lose you. I don't want to feel that again.

My grip loosens when he drops my knife, and I can hear a series of loud metal clangs as it lands on the floor. Then, I suddenly get caught off guard as Zoro sinks down to my level and pulls me towards his tight embrace. He starts to whisper things to me… in a dialect that I recognize as an old form of Japanese.

"Hair that is golden like the rising sun… Eyes more blue than the deepest ocean… Nothing has changed." I manage to pick up among the number of thing that I barely understood from him. "Don't leave. Don't ever leave me again. Stay with me. Stay with me forever. I love you. You're mine. Mine."

Zoro… he never begs. He never pleads. He's too proud for such things. But, now, I'm hearing him utter desperate prayers—but not to any gods or deities that his ancestors were known to have worshipped. It's his prayer to me.

Then, he finally ends it with a chaste kiss, and that's it. I couldn't take it any longer.

I cried.

"May I ask?"

"What?" I finish pouring the wine when the glass turns half full. At the gesture, Mihawk mutters a soft thank you.

"How long do you plan to continue this?" He gives the wine a gentle swirl before taking a sip. I briefly do the same with my own glass.

No need for him to explain what he's referring to. Ever since that incident in Whiskey Peak, it's no secret that I got the Old Man to station people around the Roronoa residence. It didn't take much convincing, too. He, of all people, knows that our enemies would use anything—or rather anyone—to get to us. But, of course, he still reserved his most skilled men as my new personal guards.

"For as long as I want to," I answer crisply, "Got a problem with that?"

"No. Not at all." It's not hard to find that small bit of sincerity in his reply. Sure, maybe he's not too concerned about Zoro, but then there's still Kuina.

Still maintaining that refined sense of poise that's been instilled in him since his youth, he sets his wine glass down. Then, he carefully reaches out to draw another piece of paper from the shrinking stack before him. I take a seat on the sofa, finishing up my wine while watching him perform his task in silence.

On the outside, it looks like we made amends, much to the relief of the Old Man (who gave me a scolding anyway) and most especially Mademoiselle Perona. But, don't get me wrong. Am I still angry? Yes. Frustrated? Yes. Happy to kick his ass? Definitely. But, sympathetic? Perhaps, a bit more than I'd like to be.

I did keep my promise, though. After I arrived home a few hours ago, I gave him the biggest apology that he's ever going to hear from me in his life. It's amazing what a near-death experience can do to you.

"Can I ask?"

This time, it's Mihawk's turn to respond to that same question. "Yes?"

Are you going to ask me to break up with him? "How long do you plan to continue that?" No. You don't have to ask that. Leaving him means protecting him before it's too late. Leaving him means protecting Kuina as well.

"I will for as long as I wish," Mihawk says as he lines up the head and tail with the outer edges of the paper body. It forms the perfect semblance of a crane. "Does it disturb you?"

"No. I'll get you more papers. You're going to run out soon." He gives me a small thanks in response before setting aside the paper crane—just another addition to the hundreds of other origami cranes that are scattered around his room. Then, he picks up another paper and begins to fold once more.

Merde. I don't blame Mademoiselle Perona for her attempts to have Mihawk engaged in something else. This is a fucking depressing sight to watch.

There's a knock on the door. The both of us pause from what we're doing as the door opens, only to discover the Old Man who's wearing a cross expression.

"Oi, Eggplant. Phone for you."

Ah.

"Newgate?" Mihawk suggests as I get up from my seat, but I give him a quick shake of my head.

"No. Ace would call me by cellphone." Which he did the other night, by the way—when news somehow broke out about that attack on the subway. Ace was worried, but I told him not to be. Between the both of us, I've always been the strong, dependable one. That's how it's been ever since we were kids.

And… that's how I intend to keep it.

With no other ideas in mind, Mihawk shrugs this off before returning to his routine. I step out of the room, with the Old Man grumbling behind me.

"She's been trying to contact you since the other day," he says, "Why don't you ever give her your cellphone number? You know how damn unfair it is."

It's not the first time that he tells me this, and it's certainly not going to be the last time that I just brush off his comment in silence as I slowly march towards the phone.

Unfortunately, I'm not slow enough, and now, the handle's beside my ear as I nervously wait for the speaker behind the line to start. As always.

"Hello, Sanji."

Oh, how I long to simply just hang up and pretend that this isn't happening. But, that's cruel… even to her. Better yet, maybe I can just melt away right now.

"I… I heard what happened. I'm worried about you." You've always been. You never had to be. I don't… deserve it. All I ever do is take from you. Take, take, take.

"Sanji, I know you're listening." I can feel my lips begin to tremble. Aren't you sick of trash like me? "Sanji… please. Please talk to me." Don't plead. Don't ever, ever plead to me.

"Know that your estranged sister loves you."

"Reiju."

Don't ever plead to trash like me.

~*~ Omake ~*~

-phone rings-

Sanji: Hello?

Ace: Sanji. It's about Kuina.

Sanji: Oh my God.

Ace: What?

Sanji: I can't believe this—I'm not the one calling you about her this time.

Ace: Okay?

Sanji: Never mind. Go on.

Ace: Yeah, uhh… Listen, so you know how Vista has this ability to keep tabs on practically everyone in this city?

Sanji: Yeah, he has some major "Big Brother is watching" tendencies…

Ace: Yeah, funny thing. We talked earlier, and he mentioned something about an odd string of deaths, lately. Actually, odd's an understatement. They're pretty brutal.

Sanji: And?

Ace: I just want you to know that all the victims are Kuina's ex-boyfriends. Kind of hoping that you'd know something about this…

Sanji: What the fuck, Ace? It's not me, if that's what you're thinking. And, if there are no signs of a katana being used, it sure as hell isn't the Marimo… -shoots a glare at Mihawk who's working behind a laptop, sipping some wine-

Mihawk: - takes out ear phones, speaks in French- What is it?

Sanji: Nothing. Hey, I'm curious—what do you do during your free time?

Mihawk: Watch movies. Browse the Internet. Read books. Fold more origami. If Uncle permits me, I step outside in disguise, so that I can have some fresh air. Why do you ask?

Sanji: Nothing. Just curious.

Mihawk: I see. –puts back his earphones and switches to his laptop's video player-

Video: -bloody and bruised ex-boyfriend is suspended in mid-air, screaming for help while the barks of hungry dogs are heard-

Mihawk: -calmly sips wine while crossing out another name from a list-

Sanji: -to Ace, in Japanese- I'm pretty sure it's him.

Ace: And… you're not going to do anything about it, are you?

Sanji: Of course I am. I don't believe this.

Sanji: That fucking bastard.

Ace: I know I freaked out on him… but please don't freak out on him.

Sanji: I can't believe he never told me.

Ace: Sanji, for all that is dear and holy—

Sanji: He should have asked for my fucking help.

Ace: Please don't—wait, what?

Sanji: If he did, it would have given me a legitimate excuse to fucking kill those bastards.

Sanji: Meaning that Kuina's honor would have been avenged.

Sanji: And, the Dumb Marimo would be less likely to end up in jail.

Sanji: And, all would be right in the world.

Ace: Dude.

Author's Note: People have been asking me whether I'm going to include the Vinsmokes in this story. I would say... yes and no. But, hey! We have our Queen, Reiju. I don't know about you guys, but she's all I'll ever need. Haha!

Trust me, though. Her role in the story is probably the reason why I took much longer to update. I needed to find a way for her to fit in without causing major plot holes to what has already been established in Sanji's story. You're welcome, Reiju fans.

ZoSan fans, you are also very welcome for this chapter. First proper sex scene I've ever written. Please don't laugh. Oh God.

Sanji fans, you're welcome. After year 2016-Sanji's terrible year in the manga-I have spared his life. But, considering how early it is in the story, that's a no brainer. Although... you're all probably wondering how Zoro managed to escape Hawkins' vision, huh? Secret.

Ace fans... you're very welcome. It will be his chapter next... and probably one of the chapters I'm very excited about for him. :)

But, seriously... how long has it been since his last chapter? Sometimes, I forget that this is actually his story... haha! Love you, Ace.

Read and review, please and until the next chapter! :)