Chapter Text
Zoro woke up to ringing in his ear and the sounds of birds flying above his head. Sand stuck uncomfortably to his damp pants and bare back, the sound grinding in his ears like salt in a salt shaker. This was particularly strange considering he didn't remember falling asleep anywhere near sand, and if he did he was sure Chopper of all people would have woken him up. The tide moves to different levels on shores and the tiny doctor wouldn't have wanted him to drown or catch cold. The Grand Line was already notorious for felling dangerous pirates with weather caused illness. Other than that little realization, Zoro wouldn't have blinked his eye at not remembering where he fell asleep. He fell asleep in lots of different places and wasn't the best when it came to knowing where he was at any time. Not even while aboard their precious Sunny.
Beyond the sudden awakening that he was half naked in wet sand, there wasn't anything else unusual. That is until he sat up and promptly regretted moving at all. His head swam in every direction and his head exploded with a massive headache, he'd have to ask Chopper if this was normal. He didn't have any other symptoms to relate this to his normal hangovers, so it couldn't have been that. Normally if he woke up with a splitting headache and nausea, there would be a trail of booze bottles he could follow to their kitchen. When he looked around him he spotted no bottles previously filled with fermented liquid. Nor were his swords anywhere to be seen, which immediately caused alarm because he would definitely remember where they went.
No ship, no swords, no shirt, no bottles, but there in front of him not ten feet away was the outline of their ships cook. Sanji lay still, face down in the sand which dirtied his now matted blonde hair. He didn't move beyond the faint rise and fall of his shoulders meaning the man was at least alive. Zoro groaned as he managed to slowly slide a leg underneath himself, then used the ground as leverage with both flat palms. He let out another guttural sound of protest mixed in with a curse as he slowly but surely made his way to a semi upright position on two feet. Then he sauntered over to the seafaring cook, slumping down next to him, this was fine, he'd wanted to check on him anyway.
His single eye looked over his nakama's body, taking in every detail that may need his immediate attention. That wasn't too hard to find out, considering his left leg was twisted and gnarled up, bruised and purple and pants darkened with what he hoped wasn't blood. He was very wrong, it was blood and there was definitely something related to human bone jutting from Sanji's ankle. The cook's left shoe was no where to be seen. The sight of his battered nakama made Zoro frown, his eyebrows pulling together in concern, so he reached out to carefully drag the blonde closer to him, just so he could turn his head and lay it in his lap. Sanji didn't move, still knocked out, and Zoro looked towards the sea.
The sea was calm, beautiful even. He'd spent many days on the deck of the Sunny looking out at an exact same scene. It was blue and green, while the sky didn't even have a cloud. Clouds. That's right, Nami had said there was going to be a storm, even though they'd been through many together this one was concerning their navigator the second she felt it coming. They were wise to never question her predictions, so they'd made proper arrangements. There was no avoiding it, it had tossed their ship around like a buoyant carrot in Sanji's delicious soup. Images of yelling, a smiling captain as he exclaimed how 'awesome' this storm had turned out, a cowering Usopp, and the sight of a healthy looking cook running around doing Nami's bidding.
The cook and he were climbing to get the sail tied down, so their ship wouldn't get caught up in the wind from the storm, but they hadn't seen the impending wave as it hit the side of the Sunny. He remembered being flung off the mast, and a skilled hang clasping around his own, looking up and meeting a sea blue eye, and then falling anyway. The cook had tried to grab him before he went into the sea, but Zoro was a strong and rather heavy individual. Sanji had wrapped his ankle in the ropes to grab him and the weight probably did it in. They both fell in instead of just Zoro.
Zoro frowned more, if possible, running a calloused hand through the usually silky hair, combing through clumps of sand and probably seaweed. He snickered quietly to himself, countless times being called seaweed by Sanji and now he was the seaweed head, ironic. Though the humor he thought of was to distract him from the twisting in his gut. Sanji had tried to save him, and now his ankle was broken. He'd come to respect the very legs his nakama donned. They were perfect weapons, he'd received plenty a bruise from them during their sparring sessions, and even petty arguments. They weren't to be messed with. Yet this stupid shitty cook had injured one of these legs in order to save him from going overboard.
Sanji grunted in his sleep, and Zoro smiled then, still the leg would heal and they'd return to their ship somehow, Luffy was very persistent when it came to sailing with any of his nakama, and there was no such thing as a demon solo, it was the demon trio. He'd find them, so Zoro knew they'd have to just survive until then. Looking around, he noticed some palm trees, if he had his swords he would be able to cut it down without breaking a sweat, it'd be perfect for a fire. However his swords were still on the Sunny, on deck where he left them to get the sail tied down, likely in their bunk room by now. He'd have to find a different source. That's when his eyes caught sight of smoke in the distance, it wasn't large nor extremely dark smoke, so that meant it was likely from a home of some sort, homes equal towns. He looked down at Sanji and noticed a few feet away was a bloody length of rope. He cringed visibly, knowing full well Sanji probably brought the rope with his ankle. It'd have to do.
Despite his dizzy head and his sick stomach, he couldn't afford to lose his lunch, any nutrients he had were needed to keep him going. He carefully maneuvered Sanji so he was on Zoro's back, like if he were receiving a piggy back ride. He situated the cooks legs so they were resting on his own hips, then used the rope, bloody or not, to tie the cooks middle to his chest. He pulled his arms over his shoulders, then shakily trudged towards the smoke. They'd make it to civilization if it was the last thing Zoro did.