Archive of Our Own

Zoro wasn't sure how he ended up here. 

He'd been passing through a small town that he was told was on the edge of the Germa Empire. Where he was never particularly mattered to him, as long as he satisfied that need to keep moving.

One of the locals had given him a meal and a place to sleep in exchange for some menial labor around her farm. Zoro was grateful, for both the food and the sense of purpose. Her daughter had brought some rice out to him where he was working, and proudly proclaimed that she'd made them herself. 

It was too sweet, she'd used sugar instead of salt. Still, Zoro ate every last bite and told her it was delicious. 

But as it turned out, he wasn't the only one passing through town. 

The Germa Legion was on its way back from who knew where after fighting who knew what. These things didn't much matter to Zoro. 

What did matter was the way they acted to people who had been so nice to him. 

This town may be part of the ever expanding Empire now, but the same couldn't be said for its people, apparently. 

The soldiers were cruel and vicious, demanding supplies and horses from his host at sword point and mocking her when she shakily complied. 

Zoro’s hand wandered down to his own sword hilt, but the sharp look from the farmer stopped him. 

She didn't want him to escalate it, and Zoro could respect that, even if the injustice of it all gnawed at him. 

He held his tongue, and kept his sword in its sheath. 

Right until one of the soldiers pointed his at her daughter. 

At their demand for food, she had served them her sugary rice mix, but they weren't as appreciative of it as Zoro had been. 

Quick as a flash, Zoro had the tip of his sword at the soldier’s throat and scowled.

The other soldiers drew their blades, and the captain stepped forward, “Might want to think about what you’re doing. We’re soldiers of the Germa Legion, the greatest military force in the world.”

Zoro scoffed, “So great and mighty that you need to threaten little girls?”

With that the talking was over.

The soldiers lunged at Zoro, and three of them hit the ground before the rest realized what was happening.

More soldiers were drawn by the fight, and by the time they’d finally subdued Zoro and deprived him of his swords, he’d felled over thirty of them.

Most of the soldiers were ready to behead him for his insolence right there and then. The farmer and her daughter were safe, so Zoro had done what he'd set out to do. He had no regrets. 

The captain stayed their hands, “This one is a fighter.” His grin was vicious as he peered down at Zoro, “Perhaps the Emperor would like to deal with him personally.”

So Zoro’s arms were bound, his katanas taken from him, and he was forced to march back to the capital along with the rest of the prisoners of war. 

Seeing the soldiers handle his precious katanas like they were common swords grated on Zoro, his teeth clenched tight for most of the journey to prevent him from lashing out. All he needed was one of them in his hands to show them proper respect for his blades, but being captured put a damper on that plan.

They arrived in the capital in due course, the Triumph through the city to welcome home the conquering heroes a humiliating experience for their captives. 

When it was finally over, they were taken to the palace and displayed for the Emperor and his children like so much cattle. 

The Emperor was a large, imposing man. A mane of blond hair fell out from under the circlet of laurels perched on his head, falling over his back like a patch of dying weeds. His eyes were an icy blue, staring down at both the prisoners and the soldiers with an air of superiority under the shadow of his golden crown. 

His children weren't much better. Five people with identical faces and stupid swirls at the end of their brows, with only their brightly colored hair and clothes to differentiate between them: pink for the only daughter, red, blue, yellow, and green for the sons. Their dead eyes and blank faces gazed on the precession, bored out of their minds while faced with the suffering of others. 

The prisoners were brought forward one by one. The captain stated their place of capture and their feats in battle, and the Emperor stared at them for a moment before deciding their fate.

Most of the women became palace slaves, most of the men were sentenced to labor camps, but some of each were sent to the Coliseum.

Zoro wasn’t sure what that meant, whether it was better to spend his imprisonment serving these imperial fuckers or laboring away or be sent there instead. It didn’t matter to him either way. He didn’t plan on spending long in Germa.

At last, it was Zoro’s turn. The soldiers brought him forward to shove him roughly to his knees in front of the Emperor, and Zoro glared defiantly back at him.

“We picked this one up in Shells Town,” the captain explained, “He killed thirty-six of our men before we were able to take him down.”

The Emperor hummed, his eyes steel as he appraised Zoro, “What army was he with? Surely not Lvneel?”

“Looks to be from farther east than that,” the captain shook his head and kneed Zoro in his side, “Just a lone swordsman in the wrong place at the wrong time. We were gonna kill him, but I figured you’d find him interesting.”

“Bring him to me.”

The captain tugged on Zoro’s bound arms, dragging him to his feet and shoving him forward to stand before the Emperor, who gave him a quick appraisal.

“You certainly look strong,” the Emperor commented, “And you must have some skill to take down so many of my soldiers. You have no lord to serve, yes?” The Emperor met his eyes, “Why not join my army and serve me?”

Zoro glared hard — how dare this high and mighty bastard even think he could replace her. He gathered all the saliva in his mouth to spit his offer right in his face.

There was a low snort, and Zoro’s eyes slid over to the third son, the yellow one, who was hiding his mouth behind his hand now. Their eyes met briefly, the prince’s full of mirth, and Zoro found he couldn’t look away from those sparkling sapphires.

A sharp knee drove into Zoro’s gut, making him wheeze as he fell back to his knees.

“No,” the Emperor growled as he wiped away Zoro’s spit from his cheek with his thumb, “My army has no need for such willful insolence.”

He turned to the captain, “To the Grand Coliseum with him.”

Zoro was yanked to his feet once more, and shoved through the same door as everyone else who was sent to the Coliseum. 

He took one last glance over his shoulder towards the third prince, but his face was back to its bored expressionless state, just another dull statue in fine clothing among all the others.

Zoro frowned, already missing the one interesting thing that this place had to offer.

He supposed there really was no reason to stay in Germa.

As determined as he was to leave, he was finding that task a bit impossible at the moment.

The Coliseum turned out to be an arena, a round, tiered building not far from the palace. Zoro and the others were shown to the rooms underneath, past the armory and the practice rings, and taken deep underground into the dungeons filled with people and cages. As they came upon an empty cage, another new prisoner was shoved into it, one by one, until Zoro was at last shoved into the final cage in the corner.

“Alright, maggots, here’s the deal,” the captain shouted to the room at large, “This here’s the Grand Coliseum, the premiere fighting arena in the whole of the Germa Empire. Power and privilege belong to the strongest, and Emperor Judge has been merciful to you in allowing you scum of the earth to prove your worth here. If you are able to win one hundred matches, you will be allowed to become a citizen of Germa, and you will be freed. If you manage to impress his imperial highness, you may even be offered the honor of joining the army in his service.”

The captain’s glare turned pointedly to Zoro, who huffed as he leaned against the wall in his cell. He already turned down that generous offer once. He doubted he’d be offered it again.

“The rules to the matches are simple,” the captain continued, “Two fighters go in, one comes out. Anything goes in the arena, you can use any of the provided weapons or fighting techniques at your disposal. If Emperor Judge gives you the signal, you are to kill your opponent. There is to be no killing outside of the arena. The nobility expects to be entertained by your deaths, after all.”

He glanced around the silent room, and smirked, “One hundred wins, one hundred kills, and you’ll be free. Simple enough, isn’t it?”

With that, he turned and left, leaving the gladiators to their cages.

The room burst into quiet murmurs, a few sobs from some of the new prisoners, and some small talk coming from the older ones. Zoro went immediately to the bars of his cage and tugged to test their strength. Sturdy, probably couldn’t simply yank them open by himself, but nothing he couldn’t cut through if he got his hands on a proper sword.

He frowned, thinking about the katanas that were taken from him. Where would they be now? Would he ever see them again? 

He ground his teeth in frustration at the loss of Wado Ichimonji. He had promised he'd take care of it, and yet he'd lost it so easily. He still had a ways to go.

“You really think that’s gonna work?”

Zoro turned and found the man in the cell next to him grinning at him. Zoro smirked back, “Have you ever tried?”

That earned him a laugh, “Not me, but others have. No amount of tugging, punching, kicking, or screaming has moved those bars.”

Zoro sighed as he flopped back down, leaning against the wall so he could talk to his neighbor, “So what’s the deal with these matches? Will they really let us go after a hundred?”

“So they say,” the man shrugged, “I've never seen it happen, but I've heard it does.”

He nodded toward the wall behind Zoro, and he turned to see what he was talking about. 

Upon closer inspection, the wall was covered in tally marks etched deep into the stone. 

Zoro stood slowly and backed away to see them all, counting them up quickly, “Ninety-nine?”

“You leave after the hundredth win,” his neighbor pointed out, “Wouldn't be able to mark it.”

“Maybe,” Zoro frowned as he contemplated the marks, his eyes scanning over them, “Or maybe they died.”

“Maybe,” he agreed, “But if you don't have hope in here, you don't have anything.”

Zoro grunted as he sat back down, turning over everything in his mind. He could win a hundred matches, he was sure. If he somehow got his swords back, he was positive. 

“How close have you seen?” Zoro asked, “If not the full hundred?”

“Well,” he scratched his head, “Saw someone make it to eighty-three before they croaked.” He shook his head, “Judge starts offering military positions to people who make it to sixty. Higher and higher ranks in the army too, so most people who don't die end up taking the easy out there. Someone when I first got here made it to the nineties and was made a general.”

“So the only way out is to win, die, or join the army?”

“‘Fraid so,” his neighbor sighed. 

Zoro grunted. He was never one for military service — if Judge even bothered to offer it to him again after his pointed refusal — so it looked like he'd have to win his way to freedom. 

“How far along is everyone?” Zoro asked, “Who’s closest to a hundred?”

“Don't get any funny ideas now,” his neighbor grunted, “There's no killing outside the arena, and they take that seriously. Why do you think we're all in separate cages?”

“I'm just curious,” Zoro said, his eyes shifting to the other cages, “Wanna know who I'm up against.”

He sighed, then hooked a thumb over his shoulder, “Farthest along is Killer with forty-eight wins.”

Zoro turned to look, and found him pointing at a man with long blond hair in a striped mask. 

“That can't be his real name,” Zoro muttered as he turned back around. 

“Probably not,” his neighbor agreed, “But no one knows what else to call him. People don't get all that close down here.”

“Really?” Zoro was a ronin, destined to be alone, and didn't mind the solitude, but he’d seen the comradery that grew between people even in the worst of circumstances. 

“Hard to make friends when you could end up killing or being killed by them the next day,” he shrugged, “The people who've been here a while know that, the new guys like you?” He laughed, but there was no mirth in it, “They'll either learn it or die.”

“And you?” Zoro asked, “You're pretty chatty.”

“I'm just being polite,” he nodded, “I've got my twentieth match coming up. You seem like a good guy, but if you're in the arena with me I'm not holding back. I’ve got a wife and kid at home, and I've gotta make it back to them.”

“Family man?” Zoro grunted, “How’d you end up in here?”

“Same as you and half the other people here I expect,” he shrugged, “Wrong place, wrong time. We’re not Germa citizens, and a Germa soldier wanted my wife for a night. I stopped him and,” he sighed and leaned against the bars, “here we are.”

“Here we are.” Zoro repeated, gazing at the tallies on the wall.

Zoro couldn't waste his time here. He had bigger goals and dreams before him, he had to become the greatest swordsman the world has ever seen and make her proud. 

He wouldn't fall here. 

The next morning, they were given a meager breakfast of bread and water that was interrupted by the soldiers banging on the bars and reading off a list of names, dragging their victims out their cages and up the set of stairs.

“And…” the soldier turned a sneer towards Zoro, then kicked the bars of his cage, “You.”

Zoro scowled as his cage door was thrown open, soldiers seizing his arms and dragging him out to join the others. He was the only new prisoner among the group, and wondered if that was unusual.  

Half the group was led away to a different part of the Coliseum, but Zoro’s half was led to the armory and told to pick any weapon they desired. Zoro went right to the swords, testing them with a few practice swings. Their weight was too unevenly distributed to use a third, but he should be fine with just two. 

“Alright, maggots,” the soldier said after a few minutes of exploration, “You know how this goes. Remember, no killing or maiming each other before you get in front of the crowd, but feel free to warm up and practice as much as you like.”

Some of the others split up into pairs to spar, but Zoro was content to sit off to the side and observe. 

“So what'd you do to piss Judge off?”

Zoro grunted as he eyed the newcomer, vicious grin, heavily scarred like all the others, and missing a few fingers, “What makes you think I did?”

“You're the only fresh blood here,” he nodded to the rest of the room, “And today’s the day most of the noble houses are in attendance. Big, important crowd like that expects a big show, the best gladiators on display.” He leaned in closer, looming over Zoro, “So what'd you do to piss him off so much that he's lining you up for the slaughter? You fuck the princess or something?”

Zoro laughed at how incredibly off base that entire assumption was as he turned his own feral grin to him, “Maybe I am the slaughter.”

A pause, then he laughed loudly and clapped Zoro on the shoulder, “You're funny. I hope you make it out or this one, kid. It'll be fun to have you around.”

With that he left, and Zoro turned back to the rest of the room, watching how the others fought and gauging strengths and weaknesses. 

Most of them appeared to have some formal weapons training. If this was a spectacle, it made sense that Judge would send experienced fighters here. Most of them were probably defeated warriors from conquered lands that couldn't quite be killed on the battlefield, if he had to guess. 

His eyes slid over to soldiers watching them, their weapons already in hand. Zoro weighed his odds of escape if he simply killed them and made a run for it. If he could rally the others, most of them could probably make it. Unfortunately he wasn't much of a leader, and the risk of one of them stabbing him in the back for trying to escape his first day after they'd fought and suffered for so long was too great. 

He would just have to fight in the arena then. 

There were worse places to test his mettle, he supposed. If he considered this whole experience a training exercise, maybe it wouldn't be a complete waste of his time. 

All too soon, the soldiers called them to a halt and gave them each a number. Match orders, he realized, and no repeating numbers. Their opponents must be in another room. 

“Alright, maggots,” one of the soldiers barked, “When your number is called, enter the arena, and kill whoever else is in there.”

“And remember,” a second soldier added as they were all herded towards the entrance, “Put on a show. Lots of important people here to watch you, after all.”

Zoro was number fifteen. Fourteen matches he had to sit through until it was his turn. 

He got as close to the gates as he could to watch and observe. 

The fights were bloody and vicious, two desperate people biting and clawing and killing for their lives. The more blood that was spilled, the more limbs chopped off, the more heads that went flying, the more the crowd ate it up, cheering and screaming like they were having the time of their lives.

The crowd themselves were mostly nobles, fine clothing, sparkling jewelry, snacking on fruits and meats that Zoro had never even seen before, all while watching the slaughter before them.

Zoro had been in life or death fights before. The first thing he learned at the dojo was that drawing his weapon meant that someone would most likely end up dead, and to only do so when absolutely necessary. Most of his fights were solemn affairs, where respect between opponents was given and received.

However those didn't have an audience, people screaming for blood watching on. 

The display made him sick to his stomach.

But eventually it was time for match fifteen. 

Zoro entered the arena to the roar of the crowd, doing his best to appear aloof and unaffected by the whole thing. 

Up in the highest seat in the uppermost tier, he spotted Judge and his five children looming over the depravity. 

“Our next competitor,” an announcer shouted over the crowd, “Is a stranger from a distant land. He felled over thirty of Germa’s finest warriors before he was successfully brought down, showing no mercy as he rampaged through the innocent town, wreaking havoc among the masses on the borders of our beloved Empire.”

The crowd began booing, and Zoro scoffed at that description of events. 

“Here now in his first match at the Grand Coliseum, the Demon of the East!”

More boos echoed around him, but Zoro only had eyes for Judge, sitting smugly in his seat above it all. 

His gaze did shift momentarily to his children. Four of them were looking as dull and bored as they had in the throne room when he arrived, but the third son, the yellow one, was looking back, his gaze intense and focused as he watched.

Zoro spared a smirk for him as well, but movement from the other side of the arena pulled his attention away. 

“And his opponent, hailing from lands far to the north, the terrifying firewielder of the frozen tundra! On his twenty-third match, Firebrand Fossa!”

A large man with tufts of dark hair and a growing bald spot on top of his head came out from the other gate. His arms were huge, as was his sword, a very nice two-handed one with a square hilt that he wielded in one hand with ease.

The roar from the crowd was deafening, clearly this gladiator was known and liked by the fans here in the Coliseum, and Zoro understood what Judge was doing. Even if won here, having him face a favorite, someone the crowd adored and rooted for, would paint him as a villain to these people. 

That was fine with him. He wasn't here to make friends. 

He flipped his swords in his hands as he took a fighting stance. 

He was here to win. 

Fossa wasted no time in attacking, lunging forward with his sword to strike at Zoro’s head. Zoro was just a tad quicker, bringing both his swords up to catch the blade. 

“Give it up, fresh blood,” Fossa hissed at him, “Do yourself a favor and die quietly.”

Zoro snarled, refusing to back down. He wasn’t going to die, not today.

He pushed off Fossa’s sword and slashed his chest, leaving a straight cut right along the middle and forcing him back a few steps. Fossa growled, but didn’t even pause at the wound, surging forward once more to bring his sword down in heavy blows.

Zoro countered them all, the weight of them making his arms tremble. He slashed back when he could, leaving cuts all along his arms and legs, but nothing slowed him down.

Eventually Zoro was backed into a wall, pinned and out of options. Fossa drew his arm back for one final, deadly blow, his yell deafening as he brought his sword down.

Zoro moved quickly. With one sword, he stopped the blade, redirecting to only a glancing blow of his shoulder. It hurt, he could already feel the bruise forming, but he didn’t even break the skin. He then brought his second sword up to slash at Fossa’s wrist.

His katanas would have cut the limb clean off, but these swords weren’t sharp enough for that kind of damage. Instead it left behind a deep, jagged cut, the blood gushing out from it, but it was at least enough to make Fossa scream and drop his sword.

Zoro didn’t let up. Two quick slashes to his thighs had Fossa on his knees, and a third to his shoulder prevented him from picking up his sword again.

With one last shove, Zoro knocked him to the ground, driving one sword through the hand still reaching for his sword to stop him once and for all, and holding the second to his exposed neck. 

Fossa looked up at him, still squirming in a desperate attempt to buck Zoro off, but he was an unmovable statue. This victory was his, and everyone knew it. 

“The winner,” the announcer bellowed over the jeers, “Is the Demon of the East!”

The boos were the loudest they'd been all match, interspersed with pleas of “Save him, Emperor!” and “Let his head fly!”

Zoro’s eyes found Judge, and, slowly, deliberately, the Emperor extended his thumb and pointed it down. 

Zoro frowned as he glanced down at his opponent. He'd fought well, and he most likely was only here for similar reasons to Zoro. Killing him here for the amusement of an audience felt like such a waste, a terrible end for a warrior of his status.

But as he hesitated, the soldiers surrounding the arena drew their bows back, preparing to fire. 

Kill or be killed. If Zoro didn't enforce it, Judge would kill him in the crossfire regardless. 

He brought his sword down, slitting his throat and allowing a veritable fountain of blood to spray forth. 

The crowd roared, pacified by his bloodshed. He glanced up at the imperials to find Judge smirking in approval and four of his children as dull and vapid as ever. 

The third prince, however, had a solemn look on his face as he watched the body twitch, almost remorseful, as if he was in mourning. 

How strange, for a prince of such a bloodthirsty empire to give such a show of empathy. 

Zoro was quickly led out of the arena, given more bread and water for supper, then returned to his cage, the blood still on his hands. 

He frowned as he rubbed them against the rough stone floor, doing his best to scrape what he could off of them. 

“You made it past your first match.”

Zoro turned to scowl at his neighbor, “You didn't think I would?”

“Could've gone either way,” he shrugged, “Half the guys in here were betting you'd fall.”

Zoro glanced around the room, noticing that there were more empty cages than there were this morning, and wondered which cage had been his opponent’s.

“It's either you or them,” his neighbor said, “If you hold the guilt with you, you're not gonna make it far here.”

“I know that,” Zoro growled, scrubbing his hands even harder across the stone. 

When he'd gotten off as much as he was able, he flopped onto his back and glanced at the wall, his eyes darting over all the tallies. 

He frowned, then searched the ground for a loose stone. When he found a good one he turned over and dug it into the floor, carving his own tally mark into the rock.  

One down, ninety nine to go. 

When Zoro returned from his third win, he discovered that his neighbor had not. 

He tried not to let it get to him, but his corner of the room felt quieter and lonelier with the loss. He had a vague thought to at least find the man’s wife and kid when he got out, tell them that he’d been kind and brave and thought of them until the end, but he didn’t even know the man’s name, let alone where he was from.

All he could do was keep moving forward, keep winning and at least get himself out of here.

Matches happened three times a week, with each gladiator fighting two days. Once every other week, new prisoners were brought into the dungeon and dumped into the empty cages, keeping the stock of fresh blood for the arena strong. 

Zoro found his rest days to be dull. Once a week he was given the opportunity to bathe and given medical attention for his various injuries by the Coliseum’s doctors, but once that was done he was confined to his cage for the remainder of the time. He grew restless waiting in the dark, dank dungeons, surrounded by enemies but unable to fight them, and was almost eager for the next time he was in the arena. Even if he had to kill someone, at least he'd be doing something. 

If he wasn't a monster before he arrived in Germa, he certainly would be by the time he left. 

After his sixth victory, he got a visitor. 

It got quiet in the dungeon at night, the whispering and whimpering from the other gladiators eventually giving way to snoring and the creaking of wind passing through the stones.

Which made it very easy for Zoro to hear the footsteps approaching the main doors.

The door itself opened with a faint creak, and he could make out a shadowy figure, barely illuminated by the faint bits of moonlight coming in from the barred windows near the ceiling.

“Hey!” A guard hissed, “You can’t-”

The figure stopped and turned, the guard freezing in his tracks.

“You dare tell me what I can and can’t do?” The figure said, wielding his superiority and disdain like a weapon.

“N-No, your highness,” the guard stuttered as he stepped back, “I would never.”

The figure — one of the princes, presumably — huffed as he turned back to the door, “If my father finds out about this, it’ll be the last tale you ever tell, understand?”

“Y-yes, sir,” the guard saluted, “My lips are sealed.”

The prince stepped through the door and shut it behind him, walking between the cages of sleeping gladiators. He held a lantern out in front him as he peered behind each of the bars, a man on a mission.

Zoro watched him warily as he got closer and closer, wondering just what an imperial prick was doing down here in the dirt with the rest of the trash.

Eventually he came to a stop in front of Zoro’s cage and muttered, “Of course you’d be in this one.”

Zoro raised a brow, “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing,” he sighed as he set down the lantern and took a seat in front of the cage door. He flipped his hood, revealing himself to be the third prince. 

Zoro sat up a little straighter as he observed the prince, but his face was unreadable in the lantern’s flickering flame.

“What is your name?” The prince eventually asked.

Zoro huffed, not feeling all that charitable to the imperial family at the moment, “It’s rude to ask for my name without offering your own.”

“Forgive my lapse in manners,” the prince huffed and gave a perfunctory bow, “My name is Sanji Vinsmoke, Prince of Germa and third son of the House of Vinsmoke, at your service.”

Zoro grunted in acknowledgement, but refused to say more.

“And this is the part where you give me your name, Mosshead,” Sanji raised a brow, “Unless you prefer Demon of the East?”

“It’s Zoro,” he growled, hating the moniker they’d given him more and more, “Roronoa Zoro.”

“I see,” Sanji’s gaze was sharp, as if sizing Zoro up, and Zoro stared right back, not giving an inch, “I am here to propose a deal.”

“What kind of deal?”

“If you win one hundred matches, you will be granted your freedom and all the rights of a citizen of Germa.”

“I know that,” Zoro rolled his eyes.

“Did you also know,” Sanji continued as he leaned closer, “that after the hundred wins, you are also allowed to demand one thing of the Emperor’s for yourself?”

“What?” Zoro glanced warily at him, “No one’s said anything like that.”

“I’m not surprised Judge and his cronies have failed to mention it,” Sanji sighed as he rubbed his temple, “It’s a tradition in Germa as ancient as the Coliseum matches themselves. The whole concept of Germa is that power is determined by strength, so the strongest should be able to take whatever they want. If someone can conquer the Grand Coliseum, if the reigning Emperor isn’t strong enough to stop them, then it’s their right to take what they want from the Emperor.”

“So when I win, I could ask for anything?” Zoro asked, his mind racing with the possibilities when Sanji nodded, “I could ask for his crown?”

“Of course,” Sanji smirked, “If ruling over the great Germa Empire is your heart’s desire. There are no limits to what you can ask of him.”

Zoro scowled, “That is far from my goal. I just want to get out of here.”

“I figured as much,” Sanji nodded again and leaned forward more, “Which is where my proposal comes in.”

Zoro remained silent, allowing the prince to speak.

“When you win your one hundred matches,” he continued, “I want you to take me.”

“What?” Zoro could only stare at him, “Why?”

“Because I want out of here,” Sanji’s fist clenched around the bars of his cage, the desperation bleeding out of his voice, “I'm tired of waiting. I cannot stand one more moment in this miserable place surrounded by these miserable people. You don't have to take me with you,” he quickly added, “Just get me out from under Judge’s thumb and I'll make my own way.”

“What…but…” he couldn't believe what he was hearing, “You're a prince, you've got gold and jewels and titles and shit.” He gestured at the cages all around them, “You're not trapped here, you're not locked up. If you want to leave then just leave.”

“You don't think I've tried that?” Sanji growled, his other hand clenching where it rested on his knee, “Judge’s network is too large. As long as I'm his he'll always find me and drag me right back here. If I want to get out, I need him to let me go, and this is the only way to force him to.”

Zoro stared at him. He'd only met one noble who had wanted an escape from their privilege, but her circumstances were vastly different than Sanji’s. He had loathed every second of his time in Germa, but why would the prince — the one lording over everyone here — want to leave so damn bad?

“What's in it for me?” He managed to get out instead.

“I can help you get to one hundred wins.”

“I can do that on my own,” Zoro huffed, “I don't need you for that. I'm plenty strong enough.”

“I don't doubt that,” Sanji nodded, “But I'm sure you've noticed that they don't exactly feed you well or treat your wounds very often down here. You may have the strength and the skill, but it means nothing if your body is falling apart on you.” 

He had a point. These last few matches had been harder than the first, his body slower to react as he wanted it to, and he was sick of being constantly hungry all the time. 

Still, he wasn't down enough to start accepting handouts from imperials. 

“I can handle it.”

Sanji scoffed as he reached into his pocket, “You're either the stubbornest mule around, or if you truly believe that, just a certified idiot.”

He pulled out a handkerchief wrapped bundle and placed it down inside the bars. 

“That's for you,” he said as he pulled away, “Consider it a token of my goodwill.”

Zoro eyed the bundle suspiciously, but curiosity got the better of him. He took the bundle and unwrapped it, stunned when he discovered it was three perfectly formed onigiri. 

His mouth watered as the delicious smell hit him, his stomach growling obviously. He'd eaten nothing but bread and scraps since his capture, and he hadn't had onigiri since he left Wano. 

He'd scarfed down the first one before he'd even thought about how Sanji knew to bring onigiri of all things or where he'd gotten them. Halfway through the second, he paused enough to glance back to Sanji, “How…?”

“Is it good?” Sanji beamed, his smile wide and full of pure joy, and Zoro was taken aback by just how different he looked, “I’ll admit I don't know much about Eastern cuisine, but our old chef used to make those sometimes. We had the ingredients, and I thought you might appreciate something familiar. Do you like it?”

“I do,” Zoro admitted, still stunned by how happy Sanji seemed to be simply from feeding him. 

“Good,” his smile softened, but it was no less stunning, “If you agree to my deal, I can use my privilege to get you better food and tend your wounds in between matches, among other things. Anything you need to win.”

As Zoro finished the third onigiri, an idea struck him, “Can you get my katanas?”

Sanji’s brow furrowed, “Your what?”

“My katanas, my swords,” Zoro explained as he knocked some stray rice from the corner of his mouth, “They’re from Wano. They've got a blade on only one side. I had three on me when I was taken in.”

Sanji frowned as he considered, “If the soldiers kept them and didn't simply discard them along the way, they would've been in the tribute presented to Judge after the Triumph.”

It was a longshot, he didn’t trust the soldiers to not keep something so valuable for themselves, or to toss an unfamiliar weapon away without even knowing the value it held, but if there was any chance of getting Wado back, he’d take it.

“Get my katana for me, specifically the white one,” he leaned closer to the bars making sure to look Sanji right in the eye, “If you can do that, I’ll do anything you ask.”

“Anything?” Sanji raised a brow, “Quite a lofty gift you’re bestowing upon me.”

“If you can get my katana back, it’s worth it,” he jabbed a finger at him, “But I’m not accepting any deal with you until you do.”

“Very well,” Sanji nodded, “If it’s swords you want, it’s swords you’ll get.”

“Not just any swords, and not just any katana,” Zoro clarified, “It has to be mine. I’ll be able to tell if it isn’t. Got it?”

Sanji stared at him for a long moment, and when he found whatever he was looking for in Zoro’s gaze, he nodded, “Understood.”

Zoro grunted as he leaned back in his cage and handed Sanji back his handkerchief.

“Keep it,” Sanji stood up, dusting his pants off as he grabbed his lantern, and gave him a smirk, “Something to remember me by.”

“Conceited bastard,” Zoro muttered, but Sanji was already gone, pulling his hood back up as he made his way back through the dungeon and out the door once more.

Zoro sighed as he leaned back against the wall, running his fingers over the handkerchief.

If Sanji could get his swords back, he could win his next ninety-four matches easily. The food and medical attention would be an added bonus too, if he could continue to provide it. 

The only downside to the whole thing seemed to be that he’d most likely end up responsible for the stupid curly prince once he got out of here, regardless of what Sanji said about making his own way.

He glanced down at the handkerchief, and remembered Sanji’s brilliant smile.

Not a bad deal at all.

Before his next match, a soldier pulled him aside on his way to the training room with the rest of the gladiators, instead guiding him down the hall and away from the others.

“Someone important would like a word with you before your match,” he sneered, “Why his highness wants to meet with you of all people, I haven’t the foggiest, but you better be on your best behavior around him.”

Zoro remained silent, although he wondered just what the hell Sanji wanted now.

He was led up the stairs and past the stands, to a room on the same level of the Coliseum where the Emperor and his family sat. The door was yanked open, and Zoro was unceremoniously shoved inside.

Sanji was already there, the hood of his cloak throwing his face in shadow. He sat in the windowsill as he smoked from a pipe, his eyes following Zoro around the room as he got his bearings.

“That will be all,” Sanji said coldly, dismissing the soldier.

“These gladiators are vicious, your highness,” the soldier said instead, “And technically prisoners. I know you're curious how this all works, but you don't have your brothers’ strength should he become violent. Are you sure you don’t want me to-”

“I said that will be all.” His voice had an edge to it this time, making the soldier flinch as he bowed and finally left them alone.

“So…” Zoro gestured at the room as Sanji pulled down his hood, “What’s all this about?”

“I’m sponsoring you,” Sanji sighed, smoke escaping his lips before it fled out the nearby window, “That was our deal, remember?”

“If I recall, our deal involved you getting me my katanas,” Zoro crossed his arms and scowled, “And yet here I am, no sword in hand.”

Sanji scoffed as he stepped away from the window, bending down to pick something up and place it on the table, “Does this offering satisfy you, oh noble gladiator?”

Zoro opened his mouth to snipe something back, but froze when he saw just what it was Sanji was giving him.

A katana of pure white, the pommel a bright gold against the dingy table, the wrappings slightly more worn since the last time he’d seen her, frayed a little along the edges, and he’d have to fix them when he got a chance, but it was a sword he’d know anywhere: Wado Ichimonji.

“How did you…?” He reached out for the sword, letting his fingers run along the saya. Part of him had hoped he’d see the precious sword once more, but a larger part had considered it beyond his grasp. He had mourned the loss of it, of his last tangible tie to her, but seeing Wado once more, holding it in his hands and wielding it, he felt something akin to joy or hope flicker inside of him.

He couldn’t lose, not now.

“Turns out Niji had taken a liken to it,” Sanji huffed as Zoro picked up the sword carefully and drew it to inspect the blade, “He didn’t really understand the only one side for cutting thing, but he liked the look of it enough to pilfer it away with the rest of the garbage in his rooms.”

“So you stole it from him?” Zoro smirked at him from over the edge of the blade, “I wonder what they do to thieves here.”

Sanji gave him an unimpressed glare, “I got your sword back. Do we have a deal or not?”

“We have a deal,” he said, resheathing the katana and attaching it as best he could to his belt, “What’s this sponsor thing you were talking about?”

“It’s what I explained to you the other night,” Sanji sighed as he leaned back against the wall, “I’ll help you outside of the arena, you win your matches and demand what I want from Judge at the end.”

“And this practice is common enough that it has its own name?”

“Of course,” Sanji shrugged as he took a hit from his pipe, “The other Houses’ nobles do it all the time. Most of them are after the crown for themselves or a specific favor from the Emperor and not their very lives, but the process is the same.”

Zoro ran his thumb across Wado’s pommel as he considered, “How often do they get it?”

“Not very,” Sanji said, exhaling a stream of smoke, “Winning the hundred matches is very difficult, even with help. And Judge will throw everything he has at sponsored gladiators in an attempt to stop them from taking what’s his.” He shrugged, “Still, the nobles try. Most of the gladiators with over thirty wins are sponsored already.”

“Why?” Zoro wondered, had been wondering ever since Sanji told him of the wish granting tradition this was supposedly all for, “Judge is the Emperor, he already has all the power. What does he gain by giving anything up? How do you know he’ll actually go through with it?”

“He has to,” Sanji bit the end of his pipe as his eyes darted away, “He doesn’t have a choice.”

“From where I’m standing, he’s the only one with a choice,” Zoro crossed his arms, “We could get to the end of this thing, and he can simply deny my demand, leaving us back at square one.”

“If he does that, he risks a coup and losing his throne,” Sanji’s gaze returned to him, sharp and deadly, “He obtained his power through this tradition. If he were to refuse a victor’s demand, he would discredit the very thing that gave him his in the first place.”

“Judge sent a gladiator to win his throne?”

“Not quite.” Sanji tapped his pipe against his lips, then sighed, “I don’t have time to give you the whole of Germa history, so I’ll stick with an abridged version. Technically any noble family has a right to the throne, the Vinsmokes are just the ones occupying it right now. To keep it, the Vinsmoke family tends to have numerous children to push the other families further and further away, making the title of Emperor all but inaccessible to them outside of these stupid games.”

“Why don’t the idiots just fight themselves?” Zoro scowled, “If they want the throne so damn bad.”

“They used to,” Sanji knocked some ash out of his pipe, “The Grand Coliseum originally started as a place for the noble families to fight it out. When it became too dangerous for them to do it themselves, they sent in chosen warriors. When watching the fights became popular entertainment, they brought in prisoners to add to the competition, more and more until it evolved into what it is today.”

“Oh,” he frowned, “So, what’s that got to do with Judge and the throne?”

“I’m getting there,” he scowled, “The Vinsmokes have lots of children, and the rule of Germa has always gone to the strongest among them, not the oldest. It’s tradition for the Emperor’s children to duel for the right to be heir, usually to the death.”

“But Judge didn’t do that,” Zoro guessed.

“He did not,” Sanji nodded as he took a hit from his pipe, exhaling the smoke with a sigh, “He won his throne on a technicality, by doing something none of his siblings was willing to.”

Sanji paused for a moment, his eyes darting to the floor, and Zoro drummed his fingers across Wado’s hilt as he waited.

Eventually Sanji swallowed, and glanced back up at him, “Seventeen years ago was the last time a gladiator actually won a hundred matches. He was a previous occupant of your cage.”

“The one who made the tallies?” Zoro asked, arching a brow. Maybe those marks were hope for the rest of them after all. 

Sanji nodded, “The previous Emperor — my grandfather — chose to face him in the hundredth match himself rather than give him what he wanted.”

“Is that allowed?”

“The Emperor is allowed to pit the gladiators against whatever he wants to defend what’s his,” Sanji shrugged, “Most choose to do so themselves if anyone reaches the hundredth match, since it would secure their own place as the strongest if they win, and they wouldn’t live to see the humiliation if they lose.”

“I see.” Zoro grinned, excited for the chance to kill Judge himself.

“Anyway,” Sanji sighed, “The previous Emperor fought the gladiator and fell to him, and the gladiator immediately demanded the Emperor’s wife as his prize.”

“But there was no Emperor,” Zoro pieced together, “Since he’d just killed him.”

“Exactly,” Sanji nodded, “Meaning it was an open demand to the new Emperor. Whichever of the Emperor’s children claimed the throne had to surrender their wife to the victor.”

“And Judge was just enough of a bastard to do it.” Zoro surmised with a growl. 

“You got it,” Sanji sighed, the smoke escaping his mouth, “No hesitation either, he jumped on the opportunity while his siblings were still considering the consequences.” He scowled, his eyes darting away, “He wanted power more than he wanted her.”

There was something unbearably sad in Sanji’s gaze, and it took Zoro a moment to realize who they were most likely talking about.

“I’m sorry,” he said, startling Sanji as he looked back to him, “That’s a terrible way to lose your mother.”

Sanji stared at him for a long moment, his face shifting through a plethora of emotions, but eventually he sighed and glanced away, his bangs hiding his face from view, “It was for the best.” Then added on, almost too soft to hear, “But thank you.”

Zoro frowned, confused by that statement, but before he could ponder it further, Sanji continued, “Regardless, his many siblings are both not pleased with how he snuck his way onto the throne, and still alive to let their displeasure be known. If he denies your demand, they’ll deny his right to be there. And since he gave up his wife to get it, I highly doubt he’ll hold on to me and risk losing it.”

“I see.” If Sanji really was as trapped as he thought he was, it truly was a foolproof plan, and perhaps the only way for him to escape Germa, “It’s a clever plan.”

“It’s only clever if it works,” Sanji scowled as he pointed his pipe at him, “I’m putting a lot of trust in you. Don’t fuck this up for me.”

Sanji had gotten him Wado back, had restored his most precious possession to him, and for that he was eternally in his debt. If Sanji wanted to be free, Zoro would do whatever was in his power to accomplish that.

“Relax, Curls,” Zoro grinned, unable to resist the dig at his ridiculous eyebrows, “I won’t lose. We’ll be out of here before you know.”

“If you fight half as well as you brag I have no doubt.” Sanji scoffed, but his eyes darted away as he said, “And thank you. For doing this for me.”

Zoro tapped Wado’s hilt, “Thank you for getting my sword back. I owe you my life.”

Sanji looked like he wanted to say something more, but before he could the soldier burst into the room again, “Forgive my intrusion, your highness, but the matches are about to begin.”

“Very well,” Sanji stood a little straighter as he flicked his hood back into place, any light and warmth in his gaze vanishing now that they had an audience, “Don’t disappoint me, Mosshead.”

Zoro grinned at the taunt, “I wouldn’t dare, your highness.”

With Wado by his side once more, the match was almost too easy — and his quickest one yet. As soon as the announcer called the match to begin, Zoro unsheathed his blade and slashed right through his opponents neck, sending his head flying in a bloody arc.

The crowd fell silent as the head fell, then burst into cheers, excited for their bloodshed. Zoro glanced up to catch Judge’s eye as he flicked the blood off his sword and swiftly resheathed her, taking pleasure in how put out he seemed at being denied the chance to decide his opponent’s fate.

When he re-entered the Coliseum proper, he was ushered away once more, taken back to the room near the top. Sanji wasn’t there this time, instead he found himself face to face with a tall, lanky man with dark hair and darker bags under his eyes.

“Hello,” he said once the soldiers left, “I’m Dr. Law Trafalgar, his highness sent me to treat your wounds.”

“I didn’t receive any wounds this time,” he crossed his arms and scowled, “I don’t need you.”

“Unfortunately I’m here at Sanji’s request and not yours,” Law huffed right back as he yanked Zoro’s arm, turning it around to get a better look at it, “So you’re just gonna have to grin and bear this.”

Zoro deepened his scowl instead, but let the doctor manhandle him as he examined his leftover scrapes from previous matches.

As he started wrapping some of them in bandages, Zoro asked, “Where’s Sanji?”

“Dunno,” Law replied with a shrug, “I’m not his keeper. I imagine he’s sitting with the rest of his family to watch the other matches.”

Zoro frowned, not sure where the desire to see Sanji again came from, but found himself disappointed all the same.

“Most sponsors barely interact with their gladiators,” Law sighed as he dressed his wounds, “He’ll get you what you need, but usually through an emissary or-”

The door opened, cutting him off as Sanji himself entered, hood up, pipe in hand, and a wide grin on his face.

Zoro turned to smirk at Law as Sanji said, “Well, if that’s what you’re capable of with one katana, perhaps I will look for your other two.”

“It doesn’t have to be those two,” he said, his thumb brushing against Wado’s hilt, “This one is special. I can make do with any two katana.”

“Noted,” Sanji puffed on his pipe as his gaze drifted down to Zoro’s sword, “How’s he looking, Law?”

“You at least picked one that can not get stabbed,” the doctor grumbled as he finished tying off the bandages, “That’s half of winning this thing. There were a few improperly treated cuts from a couple of days ago, but he escaped this round unscathed from what I can tell.” He sighed as he took a step back, turning his full attention to Zoro, “You need to bathe to make sure nothing gets infected, and do your best not to strain anything until your next match.”

“Today’s not my day to bathe,” Zoro grunted as he stepped away.

Sanji grabbed his arm as he did, “That doesn’t matter, it’s doctor’s orders.”

Before Zoro could properly protest, Sanji had tossed his cloak over Zoro's head and set the hood in place, making sure his face was completely hidden as he guided him out of the room, and out of the Coliseum itself. Two of the soldiers standing guard moved to follow behind them, but none stopped him.

“Where are we going?” Zoro muttered as he glanced around. This was the first real look he was getting at the city, and he found it surprisingly normal. People of all shapes, sizes, and colors were bustling about, picking things up from the markets, rushing here and there, while in the middle of it all Zoro and the rest of the gladiators were fighting for their lives.

“The palace baths,” Sanji explained as they crossed the square, the guards doing the work of keeping curious eyes away from the prince, “Everyone else is still at the Coliseum, so we’ll get more privacy that way.”

“I don’t mind public bathing,” Zoro mumbled, feeling awkward at the idea of using the palace baths. 

“Maybe, but I can’t be seen in the gladiator’s baths,” Sanji turned and gave him a wink, “Imagine the scandal.”

Zoro blushed, “You’re bathing too? Law didn’t say anything about you needing a bath.”

“Maybe I just want to,” he shrugged as he turned back around, “Being clean isn’t just for medical purposes, you know.”

Before Zoro could come up with an answer, they’d made it to the palace baths. Sanji was let inside almost immediately, dragging Zoro in behind him and refusing to answer any of the soldier’s questions about who his friend was and why they were there.

Soon, Zoro was sinking into the warm bath. He let out a sigh as the heat of the water seeped into his sore muscles, and tried to remember the last time he’d gotten the chance to soak like this. Not since the hot springs in Wano, most likely. He was always just passing through, and didn’t have the luxury of time or space to do a full soak.

Sanji slid into the water next to him, resting his arms on the back wall, his eyes sliding shut as he let out a deep exhale. It was the most relaxed Zoro had ever seen the prince.

“Do sponsors usually bathe with their gladiators?” Zoro remarked, his eyes darting along Sanji’s bare skin.

He had more muscles than Zoro thought he would, considering he was a pampered prince. His upper body was nothing to sneeze at, but the muscles on his legs were particularly well defined. There were also bruises littering his arms and legs — defensive wounds from the looks of it — and a couple of incredibly nasty ones along his ribs.

“They do not,” Sanji sighed as he tilted his head back, “But they’d never let you in here without me, and I’m enjoying the chance to be in here without the rest of my family. Consider yourself lucky.”

Zoro sunk a little further into the water, “You don’t like your family all that much, huh?”

“My sister is alright, but for the most part no,” he agreed easily, opening an eye and raising a brow, “Do you like yours?”

“I don’t have one.” He glanced away, “My parents died when I was a baby.”

Sanji frowned as he glanced over at him, really looked at him, and Zoro felt like an insect under his gaze. After a long moment, he finally asked, “Have you been by yourself this whole time?”

“No,” he let his hand trail on the surface of the water, images of Kuina summoned to the front of his mind, “Not the whole time. That’s a more recent development.”

Sanji stared at him again, and Zoro did his best not to fidget. Why did his gaze have to pierce into his soul like that? It must have been the blue eyes. 

“Here,” Sanji shifted, leaning behind him to grab a bar of soap, “Law said you had to clean up. Let me get your back.”

“My back is fine,” he insisted as he snatched the soap out of his hands, “I can wash myself.”

Sanji frowned, his fingers twitching as if he was wanting for his pipe. Instead he grabbed a second bar of soap and lifted himself up to sit on the edge, “Let me wash your hair, at least.”

Zoro raised a brow, “Law said most sponsors never even meet with their gladiator, and you're offering to wash me?”

“Most sponsors don't have their lives in their fighter’s hands.” He waved him over, “Come, let's see if that's actually moss growing on your head or not.”

Zoro scowled, but slid over to sit in front of him, scrubbing the blood off his arms as Sanji lathered the soap and ran his fingers through his hair.

Zoro’s frown deepened at Sanji’s gentle touch. Zoro was a gladiator, a prisoner, and Sanji was the prince of this damn place. Why was he being so nice to him? 

“Am I your toy or something?” He asked, making Sanji pause his ministrations as Zoro gestured at the room at large, “Is that what this is? Something for you to play around with?”

Sanji grabbed his chin and yanked his face up, turning it until he was looking him in the eye.

“We are partners in this,” Sanji insisted, the look in his eye fierce, “Our fates are tied together. If you get out, I get out, and if you fall, I fall.”

Zoro stared back at him, searching his face for any waver or lie, but only found resolve and conviction. 

Sanji truly believed what he was saying: they were equals in this. 

“It's a little different for you,” Zoro still insisted, “If we fail, I die. You can always try again with another gladiator.”

“Do you know how long it took me to find you?” Sanji huffed as he squeezed his face, “Someone who would not only agree to fight for me, but also wouldn't be bought out from under me or agree to Judge’s easy military out?”

“Can't be all that hard.”

“And skilled enough to last a hundred matches?” Sanji shook his head, “It's rarer than you think. Plus I’d have to make them my offer before anyone else came along. It was a rare set of circumstances that brought you into my life, and ones that are not likely to be repeated. At least, not until it's too late for me.”

Sanji let him go, his hands returning to his hair.

“My life is in your hands, Zoro,” he murmured as he continued scrubbing Zoro’s hair, “And I am well aware that it is not your choice to be here. Forgive me for doing what I can to repay you.”

So that was it. He felt guilty that he needed help, and was throwing himself into caretaking to make up for it.

Well, whatever. Zoro still didn’t think he needed his help, but he certainly wasn’t going to look a gift horse in the mouth.

If Sanji wanted to take care of him, who was Zoro to complain?

He sighed as he relaxed a little, his shoulders slumping as he leaned more against Sanji, letting him do as he pleased.

Soon, they left the bath and began to dry off. As Zoro dried off his hair, Sanji handed him a box, “Here.”

Frowning, Zoro opened it to find three more onigiri.

“Eat them quick, before we head back.” Sanji said as he slid his tunic back on.

While Zoro ate his food, Sanji glanced around, locating Wado where Zoro had left her and picking her up.

“Wado stays with me,” Zoro stated as he finished off the first rice ball.

“They’ll never let you bring a sword down into the dungeons,” Sanji turned to him, “There’s nothing even I can do to allow it. If you keep it, it’ll be tossed in the armory with the rest of the weapons, free for anyone to use.”

That was probably true, and the thought of any of the other gladiators touching his precious sword made him growl.

“I’ll hold onto it for you.” Sanji assured him, “Our fates are tied, remember? It wouldn’t be in my best interests to let anything happen to it.”

“She needs to be maintained…” Zoro said just to be stubborn, well aware this was a losing fight.

Sanji sighed as he held out the blade, “So tell me how.”

“Choji oil to clean her,” Zoro said as he popped the next onigiri into his mouth, “Just mineral oil with some cloves.” He added at Sanji’s questioning look, “Blade needs a good sharpening — your brother was not doing it properly.” He raised a brow, “You know how to sharpen a blade, right?”

“Of course I know how,” he scowled, drawing Wado to examine her edge for himself, “How sharp?”

“Extremely.” Zoro grunted as he finished his food, “Much sharper than a kitchen knife, if you want me to keep chopping off heads.”

He stepped forward and ran a finger over the handle, “Her hilt needs new wrappings. Strips of silk will do, just follow the pattern she already has.”

“I see…” Sanji’s eyes followed his fingers, then slid up to his face, “Anything else?”

“Should be fine for now,” Zoro said, letting his touch linger on the sword for a moment longer as he stepped away.

“Did you need anything else?” Sanji asked as he returned Wado to her sheath, “I’ll work on the other two swords, but it could take awhile. And I’ll bring you more food tomorrow.”

“I’m fine, really.” He nodded to Wado, “Keeping an eye on her is enough right now.”

“Okay,” Sanji nodded and smiled, making Zoro’s stomach flip at the sight, “I’ll take good care of her. I promise.”

“Good…” Zoro found himself nodding along, then turned to finish getting dressed.

Sanji strapped Wado to his own waist, then the two of them left the baths, making their way back to the Coliseum with their escorts in tow.

“There aren’t any crowds tomorrow, so it should be a relatively easy match for you,” Sanji mused as they walked through the city, “I’ll do my best to attend, but I may have other matters that require my attention.”

“Do what you have to do,” Zoro shrugged, “Just make sure I get Wado, and I won’t lose.”

They arrived back in short order, heading right back to the room in the upper tier where Law was still waiting with a scowl on his face. 

“The Coliseum baths are perfectly adequate,” he huffed as Sanji took his cloak back from Zoro, “You didn't need to sneak him into the palace ones.”

“Well maybe I wanted privacy.” Sanji scowled as he fastened the cloak around his neck, tucking Wado at his waist beneath it, “Did you consider that?”

“I don't see why you have to be there at all.” Law crossed his arms and returned the scowl, “Most sponsors are hands off. You don't need to be this involved.”

“Maybe I want to.” Sanji said as he pulled the hood up, throwing his face into shadow once more, “Zoro is risking his life for me. This is the least I can do.”

“Zoro’s life is at risk regardless of your involvement or not,” Law sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose, “But whatever. Do what you want.”

Sanji grinned as he turned to Zoro, “You should head back to the dungeons before the guards wonder where you are.”

Zoro nodded in understanding, but frowned when Sanji hesitated at the doorway, “So…I guess I'll see you later?”

“Suppose so,” Zoro grunted in response. 

He took one last look at Sanji, still standing there with his hood up watching him, taking in this strange prince who'd decided to give his all to help him. Sanji gave him a small smile before finally leaving the room.

When he was gone, Law turned him over to the guards, who escorted him back to his cage.

Still, blue eyes and a kind smile lingered in his mind as he made his new tally mark on the floor. He retrieved Sanji’s handkerchief, holding it in his hands as he considered everything the prince was doing for him.  

He hoped Sanji would make it tomorrow.

Ten more matches, ten more wins. Zoro was starting to make his mark in the arena.

Judge seemed to be consistently pairing off against favorites, hoping one of them might off him this time and keeping the crowd firmly against him every time he stepped into the arena. Even so, his bloody spectacles were starting to gain him some fans here and there. 

Judge himself was not at every match, however it did seem that at least one member of the imperial family attended to give the kill order. He saw the blue and green prince the most, and the princess there the least. While Judge may not have an official heir, it appeared the privilege of deciding the fates of the gladiators fell to the oldest available son, usually the red or the blue prince. 

Although on one memorable occasion when it was just Sanji and the green prince, the fourth prince was the one who gave the kill orders instead. Zoro had no idea what that was about. 

Sanji had kept his promise of giving him everything he needed. He’d been keeping Wado safe and well maintained for him, making sure it was in his hands before every match, whether by hand delivering it himself or having Law bring it over if he was unable to attend. He was seen by the doctor after every match, Sanji always made sure to stop in to check on him if he was at the arena that day, and every night the prince snuck into the dungeon to give him proper food.

He was also starting to gain attention from his fellow gladiators. As his winning streak continued, he was treated less and less like the newcomer who didn’t stand a chance, and more like a threat. It didn’t help that most of them noticed by now that he was being sponsored, despite having less than twenty wins under his belt. 

It made sparring with them during warm ups difficult, when half the time they were trying to stab him in the back. Not enough to kill him — that would get the guards on their ass, after all — but enough to slow him down. 

Zoro was used to not having any friends, but being surrounded by foes on all sides was a new experience.

He wasn’t one for making allies, but after too many close calls and weeks of being unable to rest even in his own cage, his performance in the arena was starting to suffer. Perhaps he could do something to make a few less enemies.

“I need stew enough to share,” he told Sanji after a match one day, “And a reliable sparring partner.”

“Stew’s easy enough,” Sanji said as he puffed on his pipe, “The sparring partner might be tricky. Give me a few days.”

Sure enough, later that night Sanji brought him the stew in a giant pot. He raised a brow when Zoro ate only one portion, but when Zoro set the rest of it aside he produced several more bowls from his bag, enough for each gladiator currently imprisoned.

“I hope you know what you’re doing,” Sanji sighed as he tugged his hood more firmly over his face and stood, “If you do survive the night, let me know if they liked it.”

A strange request, but for whatever reason, Sanji did seem to have a vested interest in whether Zoro enjoyed the food he brought him.

The food must come from the palace kitchens, he could think of no other alternative for how Sanji could get so much of it on demand. As a prince, surely Sanji could make all manner of requests at any time of night without it being suspicious. Why he cared if Zoro enjoyed the food he got was beyond him, but perhaps it was more of his need to take care of him coming through.

When Sanji was gone, Zoro opened the pot back up and poured some stew in a bowl, knocked on the bars of his cell to wake up his neighbor, and slid it through the bars to him with a, “Here.”

His neighbor just stared at him, “What is it?”

“Stew,” Zoro huffed, “You too stupid to know what stew is?”

He snarled, “You poison it or something? Is that your game plan?”

“I don’t need to poison you all to win,” Zoro growled, more upset by the implication that he would sink so low. He took a sip from the bowl before offering it again.

His neighbor raised a brow, “What’s this for then?”

“Thinking maybe if I shared some of the shit I get, you guys would stop trying to stab me in the back whenever I turn around.” He placed the bowl on the floor of his cell. “It’s a peace offering. Eat it, pass it, I don’t really care what you do with it.”

“If you don’t want it, I’ll take it.” Someone said from a few cages over.

His neighbor growled, but snatched up the bowl and began eating.

Zoro poured out plenty of bowls for the rest of the gladiators who wanted them, passing them around the cells in a surprisingly orderly fashion.

The stew was a hit, easing the tensions a little as everyone enjoyed the good food.

“Okay,” his neighbor let out a satisfied sigh, “No more trying to stab you outside of the arena.”

“S’all I ask for,” Zoro chuckled as he dished out the last of the stew.

“This stuff is great!” One woman a few cages over said, “Where’d your sponsor get it?”

“Palace kitchens, probably,” Zoro shrugged as he set the empty pot aside, “Think they just rob the place when no one’s looking.”

“My sponsor gets me food from the palace kitchens sometimes,” Killer said, his mask peeled back just enough to slurp the stew, “This is much better than anything they make.”

Zoro frowned as he considered that. If Sanji wasn’t getting this stuff from the palace, where was he getting it?

The lighthearted conversations continued, a few more gladiators thanking Zoro for the stew, and for a moment he felt almost human again. He grunted in acknowledgement before turning over to get some sleep, clutching the handkerchief in his hand, his mind always finding its way back to Sanji.

On his next day off, Law woke him up in the middle of the night with a deadpan, “Hey.”

Zoro groaned as he turned over, surprised to see the doctor here, “Wha…?”

Law pulled out a key and unlocked his cage, “Let’s go, we need to be quick.”

Zoro followed him out of the dungeons, wondering just what the hell was going on.

There were only a handful of soldiers on duty, and they were able to sneak past them with relative ease. Zoro was surprised to find they ended up in the training room, and that Sanji was already there waiting for them. He looked at ease in the space, dressed down in a loose shirt and pants, his pipe missing and his feet bare as he stood in the middle of the ring.

“What’s going on?” He asked as Law shut the door behind them and leaned against it.

“You asked for a reliable sparring partner.” He smirked as he crossed his arms, “I’m the most competent one I know.”

Zoro scoffed. His opinion of the imperial family’s actual fighting ability was already low, and according to just about every soldier they'd run across, Sanji was the weakest among his siblings, “Really? You think you can take me on?”

“I know I can. Remember, I’ve been watching you fight in the arena. I’ve got you and your fighting style all figured out.” His grin sharpened, “But you have no idea what I’m capable of.”

Zoro rolled his eyes, as if a pampered prince could do much to him, “Big talk, let’s see if you can back it up.

Sanji nodded towards the weapons cache, “The Germa imperial family is trained for all manner of combat. If you’d like, I can use any of the weapons on hand that you may face. Although,” his grin grew, “my specialty is unarmed, handless combat.”

“This I must see,” Zoro’s smile was feral as he cracked his knuckles and stepped into the ring, “Did you bring Wado?”

Law tossed a wooden sword at him, and he caught it before it hit his face.

“I have enough work stitching you both up on a near daily basis as is,”  he grumbled as he returned to his spot by the door, “Let’s not risk cutting each other open for fun.”

Zoro shrugged and gave the training sword a few practice swings. When he felt comfortable enough with it, he turned towards Sanji and lunged.

Sanji blocked the strike with his leg, his shin meeting the edge of the wood. Zoro hadn’t held back with his initial attack, but Sanji didn’t flinch, taking the blow to his leg with an easy grin.

Zoro pulled back, preparing his next attack for his head, but before he could even swing, Sanji’s foot darted out and landed square on his chest. He fell to the ground with a wheeze and looked up at him, seeing the prince in a whole new light.

Damn, he could kick.

Sanji stepped forward, placing his foot directly on the bruise he’d just made and pressed down hard, “If that is all you’re capable of, we’re in some serious trouble.”

“Just getting warmed up,” he grunted, shoving Sanji’s foot off of him as he scrambled back to his feet.

“Well,” Sanji’s grin turned feral, “Don't keep me waiting.”

Zoro darted forward again, sword aiming for Sanji’s side, but the prince was quicker, dodging to the left and aiming a knee for his stomach. 

Zoro growled as he jumped away to avoid the blow, but Sanji flipped to his hands instead, using his long legs to drive his heel into Zoro’s skull. 

Zoro blocked with the sword, grunting with the effort of holding him off. After a moment, he was able to push back, throwing Sanji off of him and making him stumble. 

Zoro didn't give him a chance to recover. He surged forward with a hard strike to Sanji’s inner thigh to throw him off balance, then followed it up with a quick elbow to his chest to wind him. 

As Sanji wheezed, Zoro kicked his legs out from under him, sending him toppling to the ground. He immediately sat on his hips to pin those deadly legs of his, and pointed the tip of his wooden sword at his throat, “That's my win.”

Sanji scowled, but there was a pleased glint in his eye as he said, “Best two out of three.”

They ended up going at least seven more rounds, the win exchanged between the two of them. When Zoro had asked for a sparring partner, he'd expected Sanji to find someone good enough to stand up to him, but wasn't really expecting to be all that challenged. 

Sanji was though. Every slash from Zoro was met with an equally deadly blow from Sanji, every hit taken and given back ten fold. 

If Sanji was the weakest of his siblings, perhaps the imperial family did have a claim to strength. 

He scoffed at the thought. No, more likely Sanji was just being underestimated. 

“Okay, enough,” Law called out, forcing them to finally separate, “I know training is important, but rest is important too. Let's let you both get some.”

“Sure,” Sanji agreed with an easy grin as he accepted the water Law offered him.

Zoro grunted in agreement as he took his own water, “I guess I can continue kicking your ass another day.”

“In your dreams.” Sanji scoffed, and Zoro grinned at the pushback. 

“Alright,” Law sighed as he opened the door and nodded to Zoro, “Let’s get you back.”

When Zoro turned to go, Sanji called out, “Wait, you never told me. Did everyone like the stew?”

“Uh,” Zoro blinked, a little startled by the request, “Yeah. They all loved it.”

Sanji beamed, his smile wide and bright, something in Zoro’s chest soaring at the sight of it, “Good, I'm glad.”

Zoro swallowed thickly and nodded, too dumbstruck to say anything. 

“C’mon,” Law shoved at his shoulder, then turned back to Sanji, “And you watch yourself heading back. Don't get caught, don't be seen.”

“I'll be fine,” Sanji rolled his eyes, “You don't have to worry about me so much.”

“Someone in this shithole has to,” Law scowled as he grabbed Zoro’s arm and dragged him out the doors. 

As Law led him back to the dungeon, Zoro asked, “What’s going on with you and him anyway?”

Law glanced at him, then sighed and admitted, “I owe Sanji a lot. When I first came to Germa, it was through the patronage of the head of one of the noble families, Doflamingo Donquixote. What I hadn’t realized was that he’d essentially purchased me as a servant for his household, forcing me to work for nothing and do his bidding, whether I liked it or not. When Sanji found out about my situation, he bought out my contract and released me from it, allowing me to finally pursue my own interests.”

“So now you do what he tells you to instead?”

Law’s glare was fierce, “He makes requests on occasion, and I can say no if I wish. That’s far more than most nobles around here allow.”

Zoro winced, properly chastised, “I see.”

They arrived back at the dungeon, and Law hesitated just before the door, “Watch out for Doflamingo and his gladiators. He wants the Emperor’s throne, and he's not shy about how he's going after it. Over half the sponsored gladiators are his, and he’s always looking for more. If you make it far enough, if you impress them, he and the other nobles will look for any opportunity to buy your loyalty.”

“I am not for sale,” he assured him, then raised a brow, “How can he have more than one gladiator?”

“Sponsoring a gladiator is an off the books aspect of the Grand Coliseum as is,” Law explained with a huff, “If he has the means, he can provide for several of them.”

“What happens when they fight each other?”

“One wins, and one dies,” Law shrugged, “This isn’t exactly a team battle. Most gladiators don't give a shit what their noble wants, they only care about winning their next match. Judge will often pit Doflamingo’s gladiators against each other, if he knows he’s sponsoring them. Speaking of,” Law thrust a finger at him, “It would be in your best interest to not let it slip who exactly your sponsor is.”

Zoro’s brow furrowed, “Doesn’t everyone already know? He is not very subtle about visiting me.”

“He is more subtle than you realize. It’s not exactly difficult for him to sneak around,” Law scowled and looked away, “Some of the guards may suspect by now, but they're not going to say anything.”

“How can you be so sure?”

“Their loyalty isn't to Judge per say," Law explained with a wave of his hand, “They’re loyal to the Empire and to the throne, regardless of who sits on it. Which could very well be Sanji next as far as they're concerned.” He shook his head, “They won’t tell Judge or anyone else unless they’re asked directly, and as long as no one gives anyone any reason to ask, they won’t be.”

Zoro didn't like all of this sneaking about, and being subtle was never in his nature. He always preferred a more direct approach, and hated lying, “Why does it matter if people know? He's the prince, he can do what he wants.”

“It matters because he's the prince,” Law explained with a growl, “If word started getting out he was making a play for his father’s throne-”

“That's not even what he wants,” Zoro scoffed, feeling just a little smug that he knew something Law didn't. 

“Then why the hell else would he-” Law stopped suddenly, his eyes going wide as he stared at Zoro, “Of course, he asked you to claim him, didn't he?”

Zoro nodded, and Law shook his head, “He really is his mother's son…”

Before Zoro could ask what he meant by that, Law thrust a finger in his chest, “It would be in his best interest to keep that a secret. He would be in immense danger if Judge found out his true goal was to abandon Germa completely.”

“How so?” Zoro frowned. Surely his son leaving was a better outcome for Judge than him usurping his throne?

“Judge hates losing more than anything,” Law stated, “He could understand the prince vying for his throne — that's just how the game is played.” He stepped closer, “But if you're not playing to win someone else the throne, if you're playing to actually take something from him, he's not going to let that stand. He may prefer to lose the prince by his own hand rather than yours.”

The blood froze in Zoro’s veins, his mouth going dry as Law’s words hit him, “He wouldn't…he's his son-”

“He is the runt of Judge’s litter,” Law explained coolly, “Too soft for his liking, a stain on his family name, he always has been. Everyone knows this. He gave up his own wife to secure his throne, and I'm positive he has no qualms about offing his own son to keep it intact.”

Perhaps Sanji did have as much of a reason as he did to leave Germa. 

“I’m not good at all these,” he waved his hand in front of him, “Politics. I’m not from here, and quite frankly I don’t care. I owe the prince, so I’ll get him out of here, but the rest of it…”

“Luckily, you don’t have to actually deal with any of it.” Law sighed and rubbed his temple, then opened the door to the dungeon, “Just win your matches and keep your mouth shut. He can take care of the rest, he’s been doing it his whole life.”

Law walked Zoro to his cage and locked him back in, giving him one last nod before he took his leave.

Zoro sighed as he leaned against the wall, his fingers finding the handkerchief as he contemplating everything he’d just learned about Sanji’s situation. 

In the end, his goal was the same as it ever was: win his matches, demand Sanji from Judge, and get the hell out of here as soon as possible.

If he was a little more determined, then so be it.

When Zoro met with Sanji before his twentieth match, he was greeted with a wide grin and a red katana.

“A merchant who’d been out east passed through the other day,” he said as Zoro examined the sword, “He was more than willing to sell me this, seemed almost eager to get it off his hands, actually.”

Zoro’s eyes widened as he drew it from its sheath, recognizing its maker almost immediately, “Blade’s cursed.”

Sanji blinked at him, his pipe dangling between his fingers, “What?”

“Blade’s cursed,” Zoro repeated, bringing the sword closer so he could get a better look at the hammon, “S’why he was so eager to part with it.”

“Well how the shit do you know that?”

He could sense the bloodlust coming from the sword the moment he stepped into the room, but explaining how that worked to Sanji would be a little difficult, so he opted for the simpler, “It's one of the Kitetsu line — a brilliant swordsmith from Wano, but every sword he made was cursed. Their wielders all met terrible, bloody ends.”

Sanji scoffed, “You could say that about any sword. That's the risk of using one.”

“If you could say that about any sword, then you would,” Zoro pointed out, giving the blade a test slash. Good weight, a little testy, but it was a very good sword, as all Kitetsus were, “But they don't.”

He glanced over at Sanji, “Looks like this is the third one, Sandai Kitetsu.”

“Third and cursed, we have so much in common,” Sanji shook his head and held out his hand, “Give it here, I'll try and find you another one.”

Zoro sheathed Kitetsu and attached it to his waist alongside Wado. 

Sanji stared at him, “You're not going to use it after everything you just told me!”

“It's a good sword,” he grasped the hilt, “I'd be stupid not to.”

“You're an idiot,” Sanji growled as he took a hit from his pipe, “If that thing is so cursed-”

“I think my luck can outlast its curse,” he smirked, then nodded at Sanji. “I'll be fine. Thank you for getting it for me.”

“Whatever, do as you please,” he huffed as puffed on his pipe, “You better not die on me.”

“I won’t,” he promised, flicking his thumb across the pommel.

“Oh,” Sanji perked up as he turned to grin at him, “The merchant also sold me spices from the East. If there’s a particular dish you’ve been missing from home, let me know and I’ll try to make it for you.”

His words caused Zoro to stare for a moment, “Wait, you? You’ve been making the food?”

“Of course,” he beamed at him, “Cooking is a hobby of mine, and I don’t want to get the kitchen staff involved in this. The less people who know about it the better. It makes the most sense for me to do it myself.” His smile fell a little, “Has it not been to your liking?”

“It’s all been delicious,” he said honestly, and Sanji’s smile grew once more, “I’m just surprised, is all.”

“It’s not a very princely hobby, or so I’ve been told,” he scoffed as he turned away, “But I like it. I  like feeding people, so I appreciate the opportunity to cook for someone else.”

“And I appreciate the food,” he admitted, mostly to see Sanji smile like that again.

“Good,” his smile softened, then he waved towards the door, “Now go win your match.”

With two swords at his disposal the match is almost too easy. Judge had been throwing tougher and tougher opponents at him, but with each match Zoro learned more and was able to refine his technique. Even so, there was only so far one sword could take him. 

Kitetsu was feisty, it certainly needed a firm hand to control it, but it seemed to almost buzz at the bloodthirsty atmosphere of the Coliseum, and came alive in Zoro’s hand as he sliced his opponent to pieces, the blood spraying around them in wide arcs.

“Demon!” The crowd chanted with each slice, egging him on as he dismembered his opponent, “Demon! Demon!”

Kitetsu sang along with the crowd, and Zoro’s slashes grew even fiercer.

At least someone was enjoying itself here. 

When he was done, Law stitched up the few cuts he got, and Sanji dragged him to the palace baths to wash up. 

Sanji was meticulous washing the blood off of him, scrubbing his hands and arms with the soap until the red vanished off his skin, leaving it its usual golden tan.

He could still feel it though, that grimy metallic touch of it seeping through his skin. Every senseless kill in the arena made him feel more and more like the demon they called him. 

With Kitetsu obeying him so easily, lending him its strength for the slaughter, he all but was.

He sunk further into the warm water, Sanji’s gentle touch overwhelming him. To distract himself, he asked, “How does a prince learn to cook so many different dishes?”

Sanji hummed as he shifted to wash Zoro’s hair, “The old head chef taught me. He used to be a sailor, and traveled all round the world learning all sorts of recipes. I had a lot of time on my hands when I was younger, and Judge didn’t particularly care what I got myself up to, so I spent a lot of time in the kitchens.” 

Zoro glanced up, Sanji’s smile soft as he ran his fingers through his hair and continued, “He taught me everything he knew.”

The corner of Zoro’s mouth twitched, Sanji's smile and touch chasing away the darkness that had been clouding his mind since his match ended.

“What happened to him?” He found himself asking.

Sanji paused in his ministrations. Zoro glanced up and found his eyes distant as he stared at the wall.

“He…” Sanji shook his head and returned to scrubbing, “He left. Went back out to sea, I imagine.” A small wistful smile graced his face, “Probably is off looking for the All Blue.”

“What’s that?”

Sanji blinked at him, “You don’t know?”

Zoro shook his head, and Sanji’s smile grew into a wide, beautiful thing, almost blinding in its brightness, but Zoro found he couldn’t look away from it.

“It’s a legendary ocean,” Sanji explained, his hands leaving Zoro’s hair so he could gesture while he talked, “The place where all the oceans of the world meet, they say, and where every possible fish can live. It’s a paradise for a chef, imagine being able to cook whatever you want, to have all the ingredients on hand whenever you need them!”

Zoro leaned back, laying his head on Sanji's knee, content to just watch him talk about it. Fish and oceans and cooking weren’t things he was particularly interested in, but Sanji made the All Blue sound like the greatest thing in the world, and Zoro was captivated by it.

“Most people don’t think it exists,” he admitted, his smile faltering just a hair, but it perked right back up again as he continued, “But I know it’s out there somewhere. Zeff and I talked about it all the time when he was here, so I’m sure he’s out there looking for it.”

“It sounds amazing,” Zoro said, and got to watch his smile grow even brighter as a result, “Once we get out of here, we’ll go look for it too.”

Sanji’s eyes went wide, shock and awe crossing his face as he just stared at Zoro.

“Yeah…” he said after a long moment, his face going impossibly soft, “Yeah…we could. If you want.”

“I’ve got nothing better planned,” Zoro sat back up and drummed his fingers along the side of the bath, “My only goal once I leave here is to become the greatest swordsman the world’s ever seen. It doesn't matter where that happens, so long as it does.”

“Such lofty goals,” Sanji said as his hands returned to his hair.

“Maybe,” Zoro grunted, his eyes sliding shut as he enjoyed Sanji’s ministrations, “But I'll do it someday.”

“I know you will.”

The words had been soft, almost too soft for Zoro to hear, but the surety he could hear in Sanji’s voice made his heart soar.

He cracked his eyes open, tilting his head back so he could see Sanji’s face. 

“I've been wandering aimlessly for a while,” he admitted, “It'll be nice to have somewhere to aim for.”

It would be nice to have someone to go with, he thought, but didn't say. 

Sanji swallowed thickly, his eyes swimming with emotion, “I-”

There was a loud bang from the other side of the door, and a couple of loud voices talking to the guards outside. 

“Shit,” Sanji cursed under his breath, shoving Zoro’s head under the water to wash out his hair, then quickly pulling him back up and out of the bath. 

“What's going on?” Zoro asked, a little dazed as Sanji opened a closet full of fresh towels and shoved him inside. 

“Stay out of sight,” Sanji hissed as he shut the door, leaving Zoro standing around naked in the dark. 

The voices grew louder, entering the bath proper, then stopped short. 

“Well, well,” a cruel arrogant voice said, “So this is where the failure’s run off to. Couldn't stomach the Grand Coliseum any more?”

Sanji scoffed, “As thrilling as it is watching people get their head whacked off, the peace and quiet of a soak without you idiots was too tempting to pass up.”

“Watch your tongue!” A second voice snapped, “Father may have need of you for now, but not in one piece.” 

“Oh no, threats of violence against my person.” Zoro could hear the eye roll in his dry tone, “I'm quaking in terror over here.”

There was some shuffling, then the sound of a rough impact and skin on skin, and Sanji grunting.

The struggle continued for a while, Sanji gasping in pain while the other princes hit him, but eventually a third voice snapped, “Niji, Yonji, that's enough.”

The sounds stopped, and the voice — the eldest prince, presumably — spoke of again, “You're getting too comfortable outside of your cage, Sanji. You're starting to think you have rights, that you're better than those animals fighting for their lives in the Coliseum. The truth is you're worth less than them. They can at least fight, you're worth nothing.”

There was the sound of someone spitting, then another thunk and Sanji’s pained groan, and the voice continued, “The second Father doesn't need the five of us to be a united front, you're going right back in your cage, back into the darkness, left forgotten and alone once more, as you deserve. Never forget that.”

Zoro's fists clenched tight where he held them at his side. He wanted to burst out of here, kick his ass for talking to Sanji like that, slice him open and make him bleed.

How dare he speak to Sanji like that. How dare he say Sanji was worth less than anyone.

But Sanji had told him to keep out of sight, so Zoro had no choice but to stay where he was. 

“Let’s go,” the oldest prince said, “I don't want to bathe with the stench of failure still hanging around.”

A few mean snickers, and their footsteps retreated, the door slamming shut behind them.

Once they were gone, Zoro burst out of the closet, his eyes scanning the room until he found Sanji prone on the floor. 

“I'm fine,” Sanji insisted as Zoro helped him sit up. 

“Yeah, you look it,” Zoro scoffed as he looked him over. 

Sanji’s brothers had mostly left him bruised, not bleeding, and their attacks had been mostly to his torso, leaving his face unmarred. The damage would be completely hidden by his clothes, still allowing him to be put on display. 

“I'm fine,” Sanji said again, “You don't need to fuss.”

The bruises looked tender, but Sanji seemed steady when he stood, so probably nothing was broken. Zoro wasn't a doctor, he couldn't say for sure or knew just what to do about the bruised ribs, but Law always had him bathe after his matches, so logically that should help Sanji here too. 

He took Sanji’s wrist and gently guided him back to the bath. 

Sanji went willingly, albeit while still grumbling about how fine he was. 

Once he sank into the water, Zoro looked around for the bar of soap. Once he found it, he turned back to Sanji, lathering it on his hands and running it over his bruises. 

Sanji flinched when his hands made contact with his sides, and he turned sharply, “What are you doing?”

“You always do this for me when I'm hurt,” Zoro grumbled, feeling his cheeks go red as he turned away, “Just…let me return the favor.”

Sanji sighed, but relaxed slightly as he nodded, “Alright, if you must, but really I'm-”

“Fine, yes I heard,” Zoro snorted as he returned to running the soap over Sanji’s bruises, “Humor me.”

Sanji went quiet, and Zoro continued running his hands over Sanji’s side. After a long moment, Zoro broke the silence with an, “I'm sorry.”

Sanji growled, his glare like fire when he turned to Zoro, “Don't you dare pity me for this. I don't need it and I don't want it-”

“Not for that,” Zoro cut off his tirade, his hands rubbing the soap into his bruises, “When you first asked me to get you out of here, I assumed that you were being dramatic. That you were just a pampered prince who didn't understand how good you had it.”

He ran his hands gently up his sides, “I didn't realize how much you were suffering. I'm sorry I dismissed your pain.”

“I don't blame you for that,” Sanji sighed, “People see the title prince and assume a life of luxury and privilege. Most are, as far as I'm aware,” he let out a dry chuckle and ran a hand through his wet hair, “As usual, I seem to be the odd one out.”

They fell into silence for a moment, then Sanji spoke again, “There's a dungeon in the basement of the palace, traditionally for political prisoners. Whenever I…act up, Judge puts me down there. Sometimes only for days, usually for months at a time. Judge explains my absence as illness, but eventually one of the more shrewd nobles will notice I've been sick for an awfully long time. He can't afford to show any weakness — even in his fuck-up of a son — so when they do he lets me out.”

Sanji took a deep breath, “At first he encouraged the beatings in the hopes they'd toughen me up. Now he simply doesn't care.”

“Toughen you up for what? You're stronger than them.” Zoro pointed out, sure of that much considering they sparred to a draw most days, “You could take them easily. How much tougher do you need to be?”

“For war,” he sighed, leaning more into Zoro’s touch, “All Vinsmokes are bred for war. I'm supposed to become a commander of the army alongside my brothers next year for our twenty-sixth birthday, but that isn't going to happen.”

“Why not?” He asked, genuinely curious, “You could do it.”

“I can fight, and I can strategize,” he admitted with a nod, “I can win battles, if I must. But I don't have the heart of a killer, or the stomach for war. Judge knows this, he'll never make me a commander, and he's right not to.”

“What will happen to you if he doesn't?”

“He cannot bear the shame of having a son fail his destiny so spectacularly,” he stated, “I imagine I will either have a tragic accident just before my birthday, or slowly become ill in the weeks leading up to it and pass that way.”

Zoro’s hands stilled, a spike of fear going through him at the thought of having Sanji taken away from him in such a manner. 

He couldn't lose him, not again, not like he lost Kuina.

Zoro leaned in to whisper in his ear, “I promise you, no matter what it takes, I will get you out of here. We will be free of all this.”

Sanji's breath hitched, his hands coming down to rest on top of Zoro’s, his warmth bleeding into Zoro. 

“I know you will.”

While he was coming back from his meeting with Sanji before his thirty second match, he bumped into Killer emerging from one of the rooms on the same level. 

Zoro raised a brow as he fell into step beside him, “Your patron is an imperial family member?”

“As is yours,” Killer huffed and shook his head, “You don't seem like the kind of man to play politics.”

“I could say the same about you,” Zoro shot back. He may not know Killer well, but as the reigning Champion of the Grand Coliseum, Zoro watched his matches closely. His fighting style was meticulous and vicious — as deserving of his moniker — but it was also quick and straightforward. It was clear he held as much contempt for these proceedings as Zoro did. 

Killer just laughed and shook his head, “True. Honestly I don't care who ends up on the throne when I'm done here. I was captured defending my partner when he was hurt, and I will do anything I need to to get back to him. My sponsor promised we'd be free to go wherever we pleased once on the throne, and that is all I want, so for that I will fight. The rest of the world can burn for all I care, but I will make it back to Kid.”

The intensity of his voice shocked Zoro. They were all fighting for their freedom, and most he figured were fighting to get back to someone. But the way Killer spoke of his partner, the surety and need to return he heard coursing through it, forced Zoro to believe he could. 

He found he wanted Killer to get out of here, to make it back to Kid, to be free. 

He didn't know which of Sanji’s siblings was sponsoring him, he didn't know if them being on the throne instead of Judge would make Sanji’s situation better or worse. But if Killer could make it out and make his demands, surely Zoro could too. 

“So,” Killer turned to him, “Which of the princes are you going to let burn the world down to get what you want?”

“How do you know it's one of the princes?” Zoro raised a brow, “Maybe my sponsor is the princess.”

Killer chuckled again, something amused coming through with the sound, “I suppose so.”

“I don’t care who's in charge of this damn place when I leave,” Zoro admitted with a shrug, “I just need to get out of here.”

“Understandable,” Killer nodded, “Is there someone you're fighting to get back to?”

Zoro was about to say no, but as he thought about it, Sanji’s smile came to mind, him giving Zoro his newest recipe, him laughing and talking about the All Blue. 

He wondered how wide Sanji would smile if he was free, how beautiful he'd be away from this place that made him so miserable and dampened his light.  

“Yeah,” he admitted, “There is someone.”

“It hits different,” Killer said softly, “When you have someone to fight for. It makes it possible to do things you wouldn't otherwise.”

“Yeah,” Zoro could only agree, “Yeah, it does.”

They fell into silence until they joined the others in the training room, then prepared for their matches. 

When it was Zoro’s turn, he entered the arena to the roar of the crowd. He held his head high, waved to some of the crowd, then glanced up at the top tier. Judge was here today, a sinister grin on his face, as was the princess, Niji, and Sanji. 

“Here in his thirty-second match,” the announcer’s voice boomed across the arena, “You know him, you hate him, the Demon of the East!”

Cheers erupted throughout the arena, interspersed with the ever present boos. 

“And his opponent!” The announcer continued, “Hailing from the mysterious lands of the south, it took twelve of our brave soldiers to subdue and bring it in! The rare and vicious creature that stalks the jungles of Jaya, the Man Eater!”

A low rumble echoed around the arena, seeming to come from everywhere, and out from the opposing gate stalked a huge tiger, big enough to tower over Zoro and swallow him in one gulp.

It blinked slowly as it eyed Zoro, a low, threatening growl emanating from its throat. It paced around the perimeter of the arena, its sharp claws clacking with each step it took, always keeping its eyes on Zoro.

Zoro’s grin turned feral as he took his swords in hand.

He could feel the tiger’s agitation and ferocity as it circled him, could see the power in its muscles as it moved.

Perhaps it could finally be a worthy opponent.

If nothing else, at least Zoro didn’t have to kill a person today.

The tiger lunged, and Zoro raised his swords to block, the clash of claws against his steel sending a thrill though him.

The fight was on.

With a fierce roar, the tiger bounded towards him, deadly claws extended. Zoro brought his swords up to block, and while that stopped the claws from piercing him, it did nothing against the tiger’s overwhelming strength. It wrapped it’s claws around his swords, picked him up, and tossed him aside like he weighed nothing. 

Zoro hit the ground hard, struggling to catch his breath, but maintained his tight grip on his swords. 

Suddenly that huge paw was above his head, and he quickly rolled out of the way and back on his feet. It slammed into the ground where he'd been, creating a small crater in its wake. 

Zoro growled as he adjusted the grips on his swords. No way in hell was he dying here. 

The tiger roared, then pounced again, claws extended and mouth open wide, exposed those sharp fangs. Zoro slashed out as he dodged, but only managed to cut off a few whiskers before the claws were coming at him again. He ran around to the tiger’s side, only to be met with its large tail coming straight for him. 

He cursed and held out his Kitetsu, piercing the tail right as it barreled into him. Zoro was sent flying, but the tiger let out a piercing wail as blood poured out of the wound. 

Zoro smirked, first blood was his. 

He landed hard on the other side of the arena, taking most of the impact to his shoulder. The tiger didn't give him a moment to rest, bounding forward with a speed that had Zoro surprised as it smacked him around again. 

Zoro landed again with a grunt, dazed, but quickly rolled to his feet to avoid a repeat of the last minute. 

It was time to get serious. 

The tiger stalked towards him, the low growl rumbling in Zoro’s very bones. Zoro ran to the left and swiped at it, managing to get a shallow slash along its leg before its other one came at him fast.

Zoro jumped and managed to land right on top of the paw. Before the tiger could react, he turned his swords, sunk the blades deep into the appendage, and sliced them back out.

The tiger let out a loud, long wail as Zoro severed its paw. He turned quickly, jumping down and dodging the other paw as brought his swords up for the finishing blow — the crowd booming with cheers, all but assured of his victory — but made the mistake of looking into the tiger’s eyes.

It looked scared, frightened beyond all belief. It looked lonely.

Taken far from his home, trapped in this arena, forced to kill. Confused and frightened and lashing out at whoever crossed its path.

And Zoro suddenly realized the tiger was no different from him.

He hesitated for only a moment, but it was all the tiger needed to bring its paw up, claws extended to give him a deep slash right across his chest. A killing blow.

Zoro stumbled back as the crowd went silent, or maybe it was his hearing that was fading. He glanced down at his chest, covered in red, the blood gushing out of him.

He coughed, more blood pouring out of his mouth, and he could feel his legs start to give out, his body quickly becoming too heavy to support.

His eyes narrowed as he glanced back at the tiger, growling low, crouched lower. It lunged through the air, front paw extended, aiming to take his head off once and for all.

Zoro growled as he forced himself to stay standing. He wouldn’t fall, not here, not to the tiger. Not to anyone.

He had to get Sanji out of here.

The tiger’s momentum was thrown off by the missing paw. The second it was close enough, Zoro ducked under the outstretched limb and brought his sword up, slicing it in a perfect arc and finally cutting off the tiger’s head.

Its body flopped onto the ground, the head rolling away a few feet, leaving a trail of blood in its wake. More blood oozed out of its neck, the stench of it overwhelming.

Or maybe that was coming from him.

He wiped the blood off of his face with his arm, unsure if it was his or the tiger’s at this point. He went to sheath his swords, but found they wouldn’t stay still. Nothing would stay still, the whole world seemed to be swimming before him.

Finding his current task too hard, he let Kitetsu fall to the ground and put all his focus into putting Wado back in her saya. When he finally completed that, he took a step towards the gate, only the ground shifted on him, and he collapsed.

The roar of the crowd filled his ears as everything else faded to black.

“I’ll take him from here.” He heard Law say, and Zoro tried to force himself awake.

“It’s not his turn for the doctor,” a guard close to his ear responded. 

Zoro pried his bleary eyes open, and noticed he was being carried between two guards, his chest still gushing blood. They were right outside the entrance to the dungeon, but Law was blocking their way, his frown even more pinched than normal. 

“He’ll die if he doesn’t see one.” Law insisted, raising his brow, “Is that what the Emperor wants? Him to die in the dark with no witnesses?”

The guards hesitated, glancing between them, “It…was the Emperor’s request that he be escorted back to his cage immediately. No need to waste the effort on this one. He's done for.”

“My services have already been paid for,” Law said, crossing his arms, “If you want to tell my lord they wasted their money, please be my guest. If not, then let me do the job I was hired to do.”

Everything went black again as Zoro lost the fight to stay conscious.

The next thing he was aware of was Sanji’s frantic voice, “You can heal him, can’t you?”

“I can try,” Law bit back, an edge to his voice Zoro wasn’t used to hearing, “I can try more if you stop hovering.”

There was a soft touch on his hand, and Zoro tried to make his fingers twitch, to move his hand to touch back, but found his body unresponsive.

“I need him, Law.” Sanji sounded broken, like this was hurting him more than it was Zoro, “Please. You have to save him.”

The pressure on Zoro’s chest lifted for a moment as silence fell. Then Law spoke, almost too quiet to hear, “Even if I can stitch this up, he needs time and space to recover. He can’t get that here.”

The pressure returned as Law continued his stitching, the touch to his hand tightening.

“...Take him to your place, then.” Sanji murmured as he stroked his knuckles, “Let him rest and heal there.”

“The guards will notice he’s missing.” Law huffed, “It will never work.”

“His rest day is tomorrow,” Sanji insisted, his grip growing tighter, “And with an injury this bad they won't plan on using him for at least a few more match days.”

“They’ve already written him off as dead.” Law snarled, “They’re not planning on using him again at all. If he’s not back in his cage at the end of the day, he’s not going back into the arena.”

“Let me worry about that.” 

Law’s response swam in his ears as Zoro faded back into nothing.

When he became aware again, he was laying on something soft, a gentle hand stroking his hair. 

“I'll be back soon, Mosshead, and I'll bring your favorites,” Sanji’s voice muttered somewhere above him, “Don't die on me until then.”

Zoro forced his eyes open, struck by the sudden urge to see why Sanji sounded so worried. His vision was blurry, but he managed to catch sight of Sanji’s back as he slipped out the door.

The pain hit him suddenly and intensely. His whole chest felt like it was on fire, like someone had torn him open at the ribs and dumped burning coals into his lungs. He groaned, flinching to try and escape the sensation, but moving only made it worse, let that fire burn and spread. Nausea gripped him, his stomach clenching against the pain, but the more he tried to sit up and do something about it the worse it got.

“Better pass out again,” Law said from his left, “You’re not gonna like what comes next.”

Seeing no reason to disobey the doctor, Zoro closed his eyes again and let the darkness take him.

He awoke sometime later to a dark room, the moonlight streaking in through the windows. No one else was there, but there was an empty chair near the bed, and the smell of Sanji’s pipe smoke still lingered in the air.

Sanji had been here. Recently, even.

Zoro groaned as he sat up, his chest throbbing at the action, but the pain was bearable this time. Panting heavily, he shifted to the side of the bed and placed his feet on the cold floor, flexing his toes as he tested whether his legs would hold his weight or not.

The door to the room opened, and Law entered, his face morphing into a scowl when he saw Zoro, “Are you crazy? Lie the fuck back down.”

Zoro scowled and pushed himself to his feet just to spite him. His knees quickly gave out, however, and he collapsed back onto the bed in a messy heap.

“Told you,” Law sighed as he approached his bedside, “That tiger sliced you almost completely in half. It’s a miracle you’re still breathing. How do you feel?”

“Like a giant tiger sliced me in half,” Zoro groaned as he threw his arm over his eyes, “Where’s Sanji?”

“At the palace most likely, it's past midnight,” Law placed a hand on his chest near the cut, “Hold still, I need to make sure these stitches are still in place, or you’ll start bleeding again.”

Zoro laid still as Law conducted his examination. When he was done, the doctor pulled away with a sigh, “Well, everything looks to be in order, so you’ll live. Congratulations. You should probably stay here for a few more days to get proper rest.”

Zoro glanced around the room again, “Where is here?”

“My house.” Law nodded as he stood up, “My spare room, to be more precise. It’s on the outskirts of the city and away from the palace and the Coliseum, so even if the guards find out you’re missing, it’ll be a while until their search brings them here.”

“How can I be out of the arena?” He asked as he pushed past the dizziness to try and sit up again.

Law shoved his shoulder to push him back down, “Sanji’s taking care of it. Someone who owes him a favor is occupying your cage for you. You’re still too hurt to fight, but the guards are at least checking if you’re alive.” 

“And if I wasn't?” Zoro asked, flexing his fingers as he tried to get his bearings.

“They'd declare you dead and throw someone else in your cage.” Law shrugged, “Gladiator’s deaths are supposed to be entertainment. They don't like it when they die in the cages,  but it happens when they don't want to bother wasting resources to treat them.”

Law leaned forward, his eyes flashing with an intensity Zoro couldn't comprehend, “If you're declared dead, that's it. You won't be able to fight in the arena anymore.”

“Well, yeah, I'd be dead.” Zoro’s brow furrowed, not quite sure what Law was getting at, “So where does that leave us?”

“Sanji’s friend is stalling for time,” Law explained as he sat down in the chair, “As long as he's in your cage and still breathes, you won't be declared dead. They want a fight, so they won't throw you back into the arena until you're at least able to stand.”

“Which Sanji’s friend won't until I'm actually the one in the cage.”

Law nodded, “It's been about a week since your fight with the tiger. The plan is for you to recover here, and sneak you back into the arena when you're ready.”

He paused, his gaze boring into Zoro as if he was waiting for something. 

Zoro was in too much pain to figure out what kind of mind games Law was playing. He groaned as he rubbed his eyes and just asked, “Okay, what am I missing here?”

Law raised a brow, “You don't want to make a run for it?”

Zoro blinked, and slowly turned his head to Law, “What?”

“You're out of your cage,” Law pointed out as he leaned forward, his hands falling between his knees, “Thanks to the decoy, no one knows that. You're still very hurt, but with no one chasing you, you could probably make it out of the Germa Empire entirely before they even realize you're gone.”

Law stared at him expectantly, “If you want to run, I won't stop you.”

Zoro’s eyes widened as Law’s words hit him. He could make a run for it. He was a fast healer — and he was pretty sure Law was just overreacting about the injury. This was his chance to escape. 

But even as he considered it, his mind drifted bright blue eyes and golden hair, a smile so wide as he handed him food, and a kick that knocked the wind right out of him. 

“What about Sanji?” He asked, his dry throat cracking around the words, “What happens to him if I leave?”

Law arched a brow, “Do you care?”

Zoro growled, “If I didn't care I wouldn't have asked.”

Law heaved a sigh and leaned back in the chair, “He’ll be back to square one: looking for a gladiator to win the Coliseum for him, but with less time to do it.”

“Before his dad kills him or he's forced to be a commander in his army,” Zoro sighed as he shifted against the pillows, “Right?”

“That's about the size of it,” Law nodded and raised a brow, “But it doesn’t have to concern you.”

“It already does,” Zoro admitted softly, “He got my sword back for me. I owe him my life, and I promised I’d get him out of here.”

He turned to face Law, “I thought you were helping him. Why do you suddenly want me to abandon him?”

A complicated series of emotions crossed Law’s face, before finally settling on tired resignation as he ran a hand down his face, “I don’t want you to abandon him — I want him to get out of here, and yes, this is the best way for him to go about it — but you’re my patient. My priority is your health and wellbeing, and that stupid Coliseum is the biggest detriment to that.”

“Kinda unavoidable,” Zoro shrugged as best he could, a sharp pain zipping down his chest at the action, but he did his best to ignore it.

Law glared, “Yes, I am aware. Which is why as your doctor my suggestion was to run while you still have the chance. I was able to save you this time,” he gestured at the bandages crossing Zoro’s chest, “But only just. Next time you may not be as lucky. It’s in your best interest to get as far away from here as you can.”

“And what about Sanji?” Zoro asked, “Would me staying be in his best interest?”

“Obiviously,” Law scowled, “But-”

“I made him a promise.” Zoro reiterated as he sunk further into the pillows, “I’m getting him out of here. One way or the other.”

“You’re just as bad as him.” Law sighed in resignation, “These games are a death trap to everyone in them. Do you realize that? The probability of you making it out alive-”

“Isn't zero,” Zoro’s eyes narrowed, “It's been done before.”

“Yes,” Law crossed his arms, “I wasn't here when Zeff conquered the Grand Coliseum, but by all accounts he was even more stubborn and bull-headed than you, and even so he barely escaped with his life.”

“Wait…” Zoro’s brain was still fuzzy from the blood loss, but the gladiator's name was familiar. It took him probably a moment too long to remember where he'd heard it before, “Zeff was the gladiator that won Sanji’s mother? The head chef who taught him how to cook?”

Law raised a brow, “He didn't tell you?”

Zoro shook his head, “How did he end up in the Coliseum? Why did he demand the Emperor’s wife?”

Law pinched the bridge of his nose, “I don't know the full story myself, you'll have to ask Sanji the details, assuming he wants to share them.” He frowned as he lowered his hand, “I just know the facts from afterwards. From what I've heard, Zeff was arrested for violating the princess in the worst possible way, and tossed into the Coliseum to fight for his life at her husband — then Prince Judge’s — request, treat him like the beast he was and let the punishment fit the crime.”

Zoro frowned at that, the explanation not sitting right with him. It was clear Sanji had a lot of love and respect for the former palace chef, and he had doubts that would be the case if he raped his mother. 

“Judge all but forbids talking about Zeff, his wife, or the incident, so I don't know much more than that. Anyway,” Law sighed as he stood up, “If you’re that determined to see this through, get some rest. You’ve still got a long way to go before you’re fighting fit, and I don’t know how much longer the decoy can hold out.”

When he left, Zoro felt his eyes droop, and decided maybe to take the doctor’s advice for once and get some sleep.

Zoro awoke in the morning to the sight of Sanji snoozing in the chair next to the bed.

He stared at him for a moment, watching the sun paint him in a golden light, his face softened in sleep. He looked younger somehow, relaxing fully without the eyes and expectations on him. 

Zoro moved to sit up, letting out a soft pained groan when the action tugged at his wound. The noise was enough to stir Sanji. He blinked awake slowly, glancing around a little dazed before his eyes landed on Zoro, widening when it clicked, “You're awake.”

“Yeah…” Zoro started, but before he could even get the word out, Sanji shot up from his chair and was moving around the room. 

“I made you soup,” Sanji said as he grabbed a bowl from the nearby table, “I would've made you onigiri, but Law says no solid foods just yet. The broth has plenty of protein to help with your recovery, so make sure to eat it all.”

Sanji sat back down and offered him a spoonful. Zoro scowled as he took the spoon from his hand and swallowed the delicious soup down himself. 

“I am capable of feeding myself,” he said as Sanji frowned and set the bowl down within reach, “I'm not dead yet.”

Sanji winced as if he'd been struck and settled down back in his seat with a scowl of his own, “I am aware. Forgive my fussing, oh noble gladiator, but you seem unaware of just how close to death you'd gotten.”

“I'm fine now,” he insisted as he ate the soup, “Thanks to you.”

Sanji’s face softened into a smile, and Zoro noticed that he seemed paler than usual, the dark bags under his eyes almost as prominent as Law’s. 

“You should eat something too,” Zoro remarked, gesturing at him with his spoon, “You look closer to death than me.”

“Only because you don't have access to a mirror,” he frowned again, glancing quickly at Zoro’s bandaged chest before his eyes darted away. 

They sat in silence for a moment, Zoro eating his soup with loud slurps as Sanji fiddled with his pipe. When Zoro finally finished and set the empty bowl aside, he said, “Thanks for the soup.”

Sanji hummed, standing to pick up the bowl and take it away. 

Before he could, Zoro grabbed his wrist, “What's wrong?”

“Nothing.” He said shortly, confirming that something was in fact wrong, “You almost died for my cause, for me, but nothing’s wrong.”

He went to tug his wrist away, but Zoro held firm, his eyes never leaving Sanji. 

“This isn’t your fault.”

Sanji’s eyes went wide for a moment, before a fierce scowl took over his face, “You can't possibly think that.”

“Of course I do.” His brow furrowed, “Why would I think otherwise?”

Sanji growled, his gaze growing fiery as he gripped his pipe tight, “Because you're out in that arena fighting for me, stupid! Every hit you take is at my request, every drop of blood you bleed is because I asked you to! Why the shit wouldn't it be my fault?”

“You're so fucking stupid,” Zoro said softly, his thumb gently rubbing against the inside of his wrist, “I’d be in that arena fighting for my life anyway, whether you asked me to or not. You give me something to fight for.”

He tugged at Sanji’s wrist until he turned to face him, and once Zoro was sure he had his full attention, he continued, “I only survived because of you. If I'm blaming you for anything, it's saving my life.”

Sanji's face blushed a brilliant pink as he glanced quickly away and muttered, “Idiot.”

Zoro finally let his wrist go as he smirked, “The idiot you're stuck with. I promised you I'd get you out of here, remember? I have no intention of backing out of it now.”

“Do what you like, then,” Sanji crossed his arms and scowled. 

Zoro tilted his head in an attempt to catch his eye, “You're still sponsoring me, right?”

Sanji startled as he glanced back at him, then sighed and finally lit his pipe, “Of course. If you're stupid enough to keep going, I'll continue to help you.”

“Good,” Zoro grinned, “Then I have everything I'll need.”

A fierce blush spread across the bridge of Sanji’s nose, and he turned away to puff in his pipe, “Idiot.”

Sanji moved around the room with a restless sort of energy, gathering dishes and cleaning off tables as he smoked his pipe. Zoro watched him for a moment, enjoying his puttering about, when he suddenly remembered something he'd wanted to ask him about. 

“Why didn't you tell me Zeff was a gladiator?”

Sanji tensed immediately, freezing in place as his shoulders hunched up around his ears.

He glanced quickly over his shoulder, shooting Zoro a surprised look, “What?”

“Zeff, the old palace chef,” Zoro leaned back against the pillows as he watched him closely, “Law said he was the gladiator who'd won, the one who'd been in my cage. Why didn't you tell me?”

“It's…a touchy subject.” He admitted softly, crossing his arms as he folded in on himself a little, “Judge doesn't like anyone talking about it.”

Zoro frowned, “Is it because he really-?”

“He didn't touch my mother.” Sanji snapped, a scowl crossing his face as he puffed his pipe, “At least, he didn't without her consent. That's a lie Judge came up with to get rid of him.”

“So, what did happen?”

Sanji frowned as he bit the stem of his pipe, “It’s a long story.”

“Lucky for us I'm not going anywhere anytime soon,” he shrugged and leaned back against tbe pillows, “Doctor’s orders.”

Sanji's eyes darted away as his brow furrowed, his face darkening. 

“If you want,” Zoro added with a frown of his own, “If reliving it is too much for you to handle-”

“You think I can't handle it?” Sanji growled as he pointed his pipe at him, “Fuck you. I can tell you if you really want to hear it.”

“Then by all means,” he gestured at the chair, “Enlighten me.”

Sanji scowled as he plopped himself down in the chair, his leg bouncing anxiously, “Why do you care so damn bad?”

He wasn't even sure himself. Part of it was simple curiosity about the warrior who'd previously occupied his cage and already accomplished what he was trying to do, but mostly he just wanted to know more about Sanji. 

“It clearly matters to you,” he answered with a nod, “And if it matters to you, it matters to me.” He raised a brow, “We’re partners in this, right?”

Sanji blushed, busying himself with relighting his pipe as he replied, “R-right.”

Zoro fell silent as Sanji smoked, letting him gather his thoughts. After a moment he sighed heavily, the smoke escaping his mouth in wisps, then took a deep breath and began. 

“My mother was named Sora. She was the only child of a renown general from a long line of renown generals. Her family had fallen on hard times with only their legacy keeping them afloat, so when Judge came with an offer of marriage for her, her father eagerly gave her up.”

Sanji growled, his fist clenching on his knee, “Judge never loved her. She was beautiful, yes, a worthy prize for any prince, but what he wanted was her bloodline. He wanted his children to be soldiers, to continue her family’s bloody legacy.”

He ran a hand through his hair as he leaned back, “She ended up giving him five children, my siblings and me. Giving birth to quadruplets almost killed her and left her body weak, unable to bear children again. With her main use fulfilled, Judge ignored her.” His eyes darted away, “Tossed her aside like he does with everything he finds useless.”

If Sora had even half of Sanji’s beauty, Zoro honestly couldn't imagine how anyone could ignore her like that. Judge truly was incomprehensible to him. 

“Stuck in a loveless marriage while being lauded as a princess, although I bet everyone in the palace served the Emperor’s son over her,” Zoro summed up with a hum, “Sounds lonely.”

“Trapped in a gilded cage surrounded by enemies,” Sanji nodded as he puffed his pipe. 

“Something you have in common.”

Sanji stiffened, his eyes growing wide for a moment before he looked away and shrugged, “Yeah…I guess we do.”

Sanji sighed, then continued, “Zeff was a sailor and a chef initially. Technically a pirate, as he sailed under no flag but his own, but more an adventurer than a criminal. He ended up washed up in Germa with no funds and no ship, and started a little eatery in the port town to earn enough money to get a new ship.”

He chewed on the end of his pipe, “Word spread about how good his food was, and when the Emperor — my grandfather — came to inspect the port, he had to have some. After just one bite, he demanded Zeff come to the palace to be the head chef. 

“Zeff didn’t want to. He knew once he became the palace’s head chef he'd be trapped in Germa, unable to head out to sea again.” Sanji’s gaze darkened as he leaned forward, “But you don't say no to the Emperor and keep your head.”

Zoro frowned, but knew the struggle well. The slice across his chest was proof that he was still paying for his little acts of insubordination against Judge.

“So how did he and Sora…?”

The corner of Sanji’s mouth twitched, “That's my fault, actually. I'd gotten into the habit of ditching some of my harsher lessons to sneak into the kitchen and make treats for my mother. Zeff caught me one day, but instead of chastising and reporting me to my father, he taught me how to make it better, and went with me to present it to my mother.”

His smile was small, but it was there, softening his whole face as he remembered, “They found solace in each other, I think, knowing they weren’t trapped there alone.”

He glanced back to Zoro, “It started out innocent at first. They were just friends, companions, someone the other could rely on.”

“And then?” Zoro leaned towards him, hung on his every word.

Sanji’s smile grew, a soft, sweet thing that had Zoro entranced completely, “Then they fell in love.”

Sanji puffed on his pipe as he leaned back, his smile falling away, “They tried to fight it at first, did their best to ignore it, but the more they fought it, the more they realized they couldn’t. Their love was a true love, but it was one that was always doomed for tragedy.”

“They were found out,” Zoro hazarded a guess.

“Of course they were,” Sanji scoffed as he rubbed the bridge of his nose, “Of course a servant spotted them, of course he reported it to the Emperor. Judge was furious — hadn’t spoken to his wife in years, but he still owned her, and he hated that some common cook touched what was his.” He scowled and waved his hand, “Told everyone that Zeff violated her, that he’d snuck his way into the palace with that in mind. Sentenced him to die a bloody death in the Grand Coliseum for his entertainment.”

“And…” Zoro hesitated, but felt he had to ask, “You’re sure he didn’t?”

Sanji glared at him, “If you ever saw them together, you’d know he would never. That man was more a father to me then Judge ever was.”

“All the more reason for you to pretend he didn’t,” he reasoned.

Sanji snarled, his leg twitching, and Zoro suddenly feared for his life. Still, he stuck his ground, leveling Sanji with a calm look.

“You weren’t there.” He eventually said, his hands clenched tightly, “You didn’t see…”

He stood suddenly, growling in frustration as he turned towards the window. Zoro stayed quiet, letting Sanji work through his frustrations and collect his thoughts.

Eventually, Sanji continued, “My mother’s condition worsened while Zeff was in the Coliseum. Openly everyone blamed her already fragile constitution, but there were whispers that Judge was having her food poisoned, especially since he refused to let a doctor see her. I was there when my mother confronted him about it once.”

He turned back to Zoro, a fierce fire in his gaze, “And he said to her, ‘If you want to live like a whore, you can die like one.’” He chuckled darkly and shook his head, “Which is a hell of a thing for an eight year old to hear about his mother, but yes.” His eyes narrowed, “I’m sure her and Zeff’s relationship was wanted. She only ever spoke of him in the highest terms."

Zoro clicked his tongue and glanced away, thoroughly chastised. 

“I’d sneak in to see Zeff in between matches,” Sanji continued as he sat back down, “Sneak him some food I’d made, much like I do you. My mother would come too in the evenings when she was up for it, although that grew less and less as time went on. Still, she always made sure a doctor saw him.” 

Sanji frowned as he puffed his pipe, “She’s the one who told him about the demands the winner can make. She knew her time was limited, and what she wanted most was a better life for her children outside of Judge’s control.”

“She wanted Zeff to claim you when he won,” Zoro realized suddenly, “All of you.”

“Yes,” Sanji sighed and looked away, “She wanted him to claim all five of us if he was able, and just me if he wasn’t.”

Zoro blinked in shock, “Just you?”

Sanji’s frown deepened as he chewed on the end of his pipe, “She may have been sick, but could see how I was treated, and knew I would either adapt and become what Judge wanted or die under it. She saw how well my siblings were taking to his teachings.” He glanced back at Zoro, “She was convinced being away from Judge could save them — and maybe it could have — but getting me out so I didn’t suffer her fate was a more immediate goal.”

“But you’re still here,” Zoro needlessly pointed out, “And she isn’t.”

Sanji scowled and looked away, “By the time Zeff was at his eightieth match, my mother was completely bedridden.” He buried his face in his hands, "It was only a matter of time before she passed, that’s what everyone was saying, and all I could do was watch her wither away into nothing.” He growled, his fingers sliding into his hair to grip it tight, “I was completely useless.”

Zoro reached out to him, gently touching one of his hands until he let go. When he did, he slid his hand into Sanji’s and pulled it away to hold it, comforting him, encouraging him.

Sanji’s eye darted to him, and he let his other hand slowly fall away, “I told Zeff what was happening, what I suspected, what Judge had said on the matter. I convinced him to claim her instead of me when the time came.”

“Which he did.”

Sanji nodded, and looked away, “Which he did. He promised he’d come back to get me once they were settled, but…”

“But you’re still here.” 

“Yeah…” He glanced back to him, “Zeff lost his leg in the last match and received no medical attention. My mother was on death’s door by the time she was finally allowed to leave with him. It was stupid of me to hope for so long — they most likely died shortly after they left—”

“It’s not stupid.” Zoro insisted, his thumb caressing his knuckles, “If you don’t have hope, you don’t have anything. Besides, they could have lived. Maybe they found the All Blue.”

Sanji gave him a soft smile, “Maybe.” His gaze hardened as his shoulders grew tense, “But I can’t wait any longer for Zeff to come swooping in and rescue me. We need to get out of here, both for my sake and yours.”

Sanji’s eyes darted to his bandages before landing back on his face, and it hit Zoro just then how worried Sanji must have been for him throughout this whole ordeal.

It was a strange feeling, being the object of someone’s concern. Zoro couldn’t remember the last time someone was genuinely worried for him. Kuina maybe, but she’d never shown it as obviously as Sanji. Something warm grew in his chest at the thought of Sanji caring, and he became more determined than ever to get him out of here.

“And we will.” Zoro responded as he gave his hand a squeeze, “I’ll be back in that arena in no time, you’ll see. I won’t get hurt like this again.”

“You better not.” Sanji murmured as he squeezed back.

It took another tense week of Sanji’s fretting and Law’s scowling before he was declared fit enough to head back into the arena to fight for his life once more.

Sanji smuggled him back into the Coliseum in the dead of night, sneaking through the darkened hallways and out of sight of the guards until they arrived back outside of Zoro’s cage.

“Gin,” Sanji hissed through the bars, “Gin, are you there?”

There was movement from a pile of rags in the corner, and out popped a skinny man with dark bags under his eyes.

Sanji grinned as he unlocked the cage, “Thanks for doing this. I hope it didn’t cause you too much trouble.”

Gin just shrugged, his face growing a little red as he glanced away, “Don’t worry about it. I owed you a favor, after all.”

“Do the guards suspect?” Sanji asked as he opened the door and stepped aside, “Will they put him back in with his record intact?”

“They should,” Gin shrugged as he stepped forward, “None of them have actually entered the cage to see if he was still alive, but I did enough twitching to convince them every time they dropped off food.”

“Good work.” Sanji dug through his robes and pulled out a small money purse, placing it in Gin’s hand as he left the cage. Gin opened it up and immediately started counting the gold coins, and, finding everything in order, tucked it into his own pocket.

“Pleasure doing business with you, your highness.” He gave Sanji a nod, then turned a smirk to Zoro, “Good luck out there.”

Zoro glared as he turned to leave, then stepped back into his cage, finding it just as he’d left it.

Sanji shut the door behind him, but hesitated, his hand hovering over the keys still in the lock.

“I…” he glanced up at Zoro, the expression on his face wide and desperate, and it took everything Zoro had to not reach back through the bars for him.

He’d only been back in his cage for all of two seconds, but he already found himself missing Sanji’s gentle touch.

Sanji's grip on the bars tightened, and he finally said, “Don’t do that again.”

Zoro huffed out a laugh, “Don’t worry, I won’t.”

Sanji nodded, gritting his teeth tight as he turned the key, the lock sliding into place with a loud click. Sanji glanced back at him, the desperate look in his eyes almost like an apology.

“Once they see you up and about, they’ll most likely throw you right back in the arena,” he said as he forcefully let go of the bars and stepped away, “I’ll be in the stands tomorrow.”

“I’ll look for you,” Zoro promised him, then when it seemed like he still wasn’t leaving, said, “Goodnight, Curls.”

“Goodnight, Mosshead.”

With a swish of his cloak, Sanji left the dungeons.

Zoro sighed as he glanced around his cage. It looked much the same as he left it, just as dank and dusty as ever. He glanced around for his rock, found it tucked away in the corner, and added his thirty-second tally to the floor. 

Sixty-eight to go. 

“Where the hell have you been?”

Zoro glanced through the bars of the empty cage next to him to where Killer was watching him, face unreadable behind his mask. 

“Recovering,” Zoro smirked as he leaned back against the wall, “Did you miss me?”

Killer snorted and leaned against the bars of his cage, “Mostly just surprised you came back.”

“I'm not one to run away from a fight,” his grin grew sharp, “I'll make it out of here fair and square. Besides there's still something I gotta do.”

“Your funeral, I suppose,” Killer shook his head, “So long as you don't regret it.”

“Never do,” he grunted, then shifted closer to the bars, “What did I miss?”

“Not much, people died, more were brought in,” he shrugged, “The guards have a betting pool for when you’d finally croak. Most of the gladiators who'd been here a while knew it wasn't you in there, but no one wanted to be the bastard to snitch.” He tilted his head, “Might need a bit more than stew to keep it quiet now that you're back.”

“I'll put the order in,” Zoro promised, sure that Sanji would come up with something delicious for everyone.

Killer grunted, tapping the bar as if he wanted to say something else. But in the end he just sighed, “Glad you're back. You really liven up the place.”

Zoro blinked, a little surprised that the reigning champion cared that much, but spared him a nod and a, “Same.”

When Killer grunted and pulled away, Zoro curled up in the rags Gin had vacated, glad to find the handkerchief still among them, and slid into the comfort of sleep.

“Alright, Demon,” the shout and harsh clang of someone hitting the bars woke him up, “You dead yet or what?”

Zoro took his time, yawning wide and stretching slowly before he pulled himself to his feet, “Yeah, I'm still alive.”

The guard’s mouth fell open as he dropped the tray of Zoro’s bread and water to the ground, “No way…you were on death's door yesterday…how are you moving around…are you really a demon…?”

Zoro shrugged, then squatted down to collect the dropped food, shoving it into his mouth and forcing himself to swallow. After weeks of eating nothing but Sanji’s food, going back to the Coliseum’s bread and water diet was quite the sacrifice.

The guard continued gaping at him for a moment before he finally snarled, “You’re fighting today. You’ve been sitting on your ass for weeks, so I better not hear any complaining.”

Zoro grunted as he kept eating, and the guard stormed off.

As promised, Zoro was on the list of competitors for the day. He entered the arena to the roar of the crowd — more cheers than boos for once, so it seemed his absence had at the very least turned the crowd to his side. He ignored them all as his eyes scanned the upper level.

Judge was here today, looking as foul as ever at Zoro’s continued survival. The princess and the red prince were here as well, but Zoro only had eyes for Sanji.

Sanji smiled when he noticed him watching, a soft thing that was just for him.

Zoro grinned back as he drew his swords and got ready to fight.

He wasn’t going to lose, not now, not ever.

On his next rest night, Zoro received a visitor that wasn't Sanji or Law. 

The dungeon door creaked open, and the guard ushered in a portly woman holding a lantern, “He’s in the corner over there.”

“Thank you,” she gave a slight nod as she made her way over to Zoro’s cage.

Zoro cracked his eyes open when the light hit him, sending the woman an unimpressed glare as she peered into his cage, “Demon of the East?”

Zoro grunted, but said no more and made no move to stand.

The woman continued regardless, “My name is Giolla, and I come to you on behalf of my lord, Doflamingo Donquixote.”

Zoro sat up a little straighter, Law’s warnings buzzing around in the back of his head. Still, he remained silent, waiting for her to continue.

“My lord has been very impressed with your work in the arena,” she said, “Even more so by your miraculous comeback. My lord has been interested in you for quite some time, and was devastated when you were struck down.”

“I’m sure he was,” Zoro snorted, “How many of his gladiators have I struck down already?”

“...Seven,” she admitted reluctantly, “But that is besides the point. My lord is willing to make you an offer. Any support you require both inside and outside the arena. In exchange, all he requests is that you make one tiny demand of the Emperor when you win your one hundred matches.”

“Let me guess,” Zoro chuckled, “Your lord wants me to have Judge make him Emperor?”

There was a long pause, then, “You do catch on quick, don’t you? Surely it is a small price for the benefits my lord can provide to guarantee your victory?”

“Not interested,” Zoro huffed as he closed his eyes, “If your lord was serious about this, he should have come himself.”

Giolla snorted, “The dungeons of the Coliseum are no place for a nobleman of any worth. He is far too busy, regardless.”

Zoro clicked his tongue — Sanji truly was the better man — and said, “If he has no time for me, I have no time for him.”

Giolla hummed, “So you do already have a sponsor. The little princeling, perhaps?”

The blood froze in Zoro’s veins, keeping him very still as he tried not to panic. Law had made it very clear that people finding out Sanji was his sponsor would make this even harder for both of them, and apparently one of the biggest rivals for the throne already knew, “What?”

She laughed, a high, piercing thing that echoed in Zoro’s ears, “You think he was being subtle? My lord is well aware that the red sword you’re so fond of was purchased by a palace emissary, and it’s no secret where the white sword ended up after the Triumph.”

Zoro scowled and looked away. It seemed so obvious now — how many other gladiators had katanas, and who else would be able to get them for him save the prince? He had trusted in Sanji’s discretion, but now it was too late.

“It’s almost unheard of for a gladiator with under thirty wins to be sponsored,” she continued, unaware or uncaring of Zoro’s inner turmoil, “But I suppose Prince Niji must have had a good feeling about you.”

Zoro’s head snapped to her, his brow furrowing, “What.”

Her grin sharpened like she’d won something, “I don’t know why the second prince suddenly wants to be Emperor — I can only assume he’s more of a coward than he lets on and simply doesn’t want to face real war as a commander or his brothers in the Battle Royale— but regardless.” She leaned closer to the bars, “If you think Prince Niji will honor whatever agreement you have once he’s Emperor, you’re wrong. He’s the kind of man who will use you and discard you the moment your usefulness has run out.”

Zoro’s shoulders relaxed. He wasn’t good at lying, but he could go along with an incorrect assumption, “Unlike your Doflamingo?”

“My lord always keeps his word,” she gasped, affronted, “And I can assure you, you will be handsomely rewarded should you manage to acquire the crown for him.”

“Yeah, that’s not gonna happen.” Zoro crossed his arms behind his head and leaned back, “I’m fine with my current arrangement. Tell your boss thanks, but no thanks.”

Her smile fell for the first time all conversation, “You should reconsider. Do you really want Prince Niji to be Emperor? The Empire would burn to the ground.”

Zoro scoffed, “Maybe I want to watch the whole place go up in flames.” He turned to her and smirked, “Can your lord promise me that?”

“What my lord could offer you-”

“Is the same exact thing any idiot could once they’re in charge of this shithole.” Zoro shook his head and leaned back, “It doesn’t matter if it’s him or the prince or even me at that point. Sorry, but the prince got to me first, and I’m not looking to break that deal just yet. Tough luck for your lord, but if he wants the throne so damn bad he should get in here and fight for it himself.”

“You are an ungrateful barbarian who doesn’t know a good deal when it comes his way,” she hissed through her teeth as she snatched up the lantern, “You’re going to die a slow, painful death here, and I’m going to enjoy watching every second of it.”

Zoro remained silent as she swiftly made her exit, tracking her footsteps until she was gone.

Before his next match, he made sure to tell Sanji all about the meeting.

“Really?” He blinked, his eyebrows shooting up his forehead, “They think Niji is your sponsor?”

“That’s your takeaway?” Zoro scowled, “Not the least be concerned that someone tried to poach me from you?”

“Please,” Sanji snorted as he puffed on his pipe, “I knew someone would come along eventually and try to, that’s how the game is played. If I was worried about you actually accepting I wouldn’t have picked you in the first place.”

“Oh.” Warmth bloomed in his chest, Sanji’s trust settling over him like a blanket.

“But the Niji thing…” He hummed as he bit the end of his pipe, “I wasn’t expecting them to figure out one of us was sponsoring you this early, but if they think it’s Niji maybe we can work with it, as long as Judge doesn’t find out…”

“Anything you need me to do?” Zoro asked when he fell silent for too long.

“Just do what you’ve been doing.” Sanji shook his head as he looked back to him, “Win your matches. How’re you feeling? Is your chest still bothering you?”

“It’s fine,” he assured him, “Don’t even feel it anymore.”

Sanji huffed like he didn’t believe him, but let it drop, “Is there anything else you need?”

“A third katana,” his hand fell to the hilts of the two already at his belt. He’d been thinking about the missing sword since the match against the tiger, and the matches ahead were bound to be even more challenging. Who knew what Judge would throw at him next, and he needed to be at full power to face it.

Sanji frowned and tilted his head, “A third? Where would it even go?”

Zoro huffed and crossed his arms, “You let me worry about that.”

“Okay,” Sanji nodded, “If it’s a third you want, I’ll do what I can.”

Zoro nodded, then was shortly whisked back to the training room with the others.

If Sanji could find him that third katana, there was no way he could lose. 

Sometime between his forty-first match and his forty-second, a group of guards came and pulled him out of his cage.

They dragged him and a few others out of the dungeons and into the baths, where servants were on hand to get every single part of them clean. 

Zoro glanced around and noticed that all of the gladiators for this outing were the ones who were farthest along in their matches. Killer was here too, his mask removed as his wet mane of blond hair covered his face instead. 

A servant yanked Zoro’s head forward, scrubbing his hair harshly before dunking him roughly under the water, leaving Zoro irritated, gasping, and sorely missing Sanji’s gentle touch when he bathed him. 

Once they were all clean, they were ushered into a separate room, where they were oiled down until their muscles glistened and changed into silk togas that showed off their arms and chests. 

Metal manacles were slapped on their wrists, the rough touch of them a reminder of their status here in Germa, then they were herded out of the Coliseum and towards the palace. 

Zoro made his way to Killer and whispered, “What the fuck is all this?”

Killer chuckled, “We’re heading to the Winner’s Gala, an opportunity for those rich assholes in the stands to see us up close and personal.”

“They don't get enough of us in the arena?” Zoro growled. 

“Apparently not,” Killer shook his head, “But only those with the most wins and are favored by the elites are ‘invited,’ so in some sense you could consider this an honor.”

Zoro growled again and shot him a look, making him chuckle.

“Yeah,” Killer sighed, his shoulders slumping, “It's more bullshit. Just grin and bear it, I'm sure it'll make your sponsor happy.”

The thought that Sanji could be there too helped placate him, and he grunted as they were shuffled into the palace, escorted through the winding halls, and brought to a wide, bright room filled with food and people. 

Zoro blinked as the gladiators were made to line up along one of the walls, and scanned the crowd. Like Killer had said they were mostly rich nobles, if Zoro paid any attention to the bloodthirsty crowds he may have recognized some. But he kept his eyes peeled until he spotted the imperial family along the back wall. 

They were all there, Judge, the princess, and all four princes. They were talking with some other nobles, Judge chortling along with what they were saying while his children stood by and watched, as dull and vapid as ever. 

Sanji glanced his way, his face registering the slightest of shocks when he caught sight of him before his blank mask slid back into place. 

Zoro stood a little straighter, but relaxed ever so slightly. If Sanji was here, everything would be okay. 

“Esteemed guests,” a voice broke through among the din that Zoro recognized as the announcer from the arena, “here for your viewing pleasure, I give you the current favorites of the Grand Coliseum!"

A scattering of applause filled the room, the nobles turning their gazes towards the bound gladiators. 

The other gladiators stood still, their faces blank as the nobles gawked at them, so Zoro followed suit, doing his best to appear disinterested as he gazed at the proceedings. 

His eyes met Sanji’s briefly across the room. Sanji’s mouth twitched into the smallest of smiles, and Zoro let himself relax for just a moment before they both looked away. 

The nobles milled around, talking loudly with each other, and it was just as boring as Zoro thought it would be. A few approached the gladiators to make snide comments at them, either hoping they’d lose or thanking them for winning when they bet on them for the most part. Zoro tuned them out, instead counting down each excruciating second until he was done here.

“It’s just so good to see you out and about, Sanji!” A high-pitched voice said above the din, immediately drawing Zoro’s attention.

“You were so sick for a while there,”  a tall, muscular blonde woman was saying. Her hand rested on Sanji’s shoulder, and he seemed to almost wither away at the touch, but her eyes were focused on the Emperor, “I was so worried there was a weakness in the Emperor’s line. Can you imagine?” She laughed, loud and cruel, a vicious smile painting her face, “An Emperor who cannot even keep his own line together doesn’t deserve the title, yes?”

Judge’s eyes narrowed, but he remained silent, turning his attention away from her and towards the man he was talking to.

“Anyway,” she sighed, her piercing gaze turning towards Sanji as her hand tightened on his shoulder, “I am very much looking forward to seeing you as a commander. Your illness means you haven’t really had the proper military training for it, right? It sure would be embarrassing if you died your first day.”

He didn’t think he would ever understand the politics here in Germa, but he did notice Sanji fidgeting uncomfortably as he stuttered out a response. He recalled what Sanji had told him about where he’d really been when he was “sick,” and it took everything in his power not to rush to his side now.

“So, this is the great Demon of the East?”

Zoro welcomed the distraction, tearing his gaze away from Sanji to focus on this newcomer.

He was a tall man with short, spiky blond hair, his eyes hidden behind gaudy shaded glasses. His outfit was bright pink and adorned with feathers, clearly he was looking to stand out in a crowd of people designed to stand out.

Zoro raised an eyebrow, but continued keeping his mouth shut.

The man sneered, “Giolla told me you wouldn’t accept my offer unless I gave it to you in person.”

Zoro’s eyes widened, realizing he must be that Doflamingo he’d heard so much about.

“I said you should have to come down to the dungeons and offer,” he said, raising a brow, “This doesn’t look like a dungeon to me, so I’m afraid my answer will be the same.”

Doflamingo laughed, “You’ve got spunk, I’ll give you that.” He sipped his wine as he gave Zoro an assessing look, “You don’t seem like a complete idiot. Do you really believe your sponsor will follow through on his promises to you when you win him the throne?”

“Maybe, maybe not,” Zoro shrugged, “But I trust that more than someone also sponsoring the people trying to kill me.”

Doflamingo’s smile stretched across his face, “Aw, does the little demon get jealous when he’s not the only pet? Unfortunately for you, that’s the game. The more of you fighting for me, the easier it is for me to win. And I will do what I need to to win.” He swirled his wine, “The Vinsmoke House has held the throne for too long. The Empire is stagnating under its fetid weight, and it needs a new, firmer hand to guide it. It’s time for a change, and I’ll grab the throne for myself anyway that I can.” He raised his glass, “You can either join me and live, or go against me and meet your end at the hands of someone smarter than you who did.”

“Thanks, but I’m gonna have to pass.” Zoro huffed and turned away, “As I already told your emissary, I like my current arrangement. I’m not looking to change it.”

Doflamingo’s smile slipped off his face, the deep frown somehow even more unsettling, “Tell me, little demon, what has our dear blue princeling done to earn your loyalty so? Because I’ve been wracking my mind over it for days and cannot even imagine.”

The corner of Zoro’s lip twitched, “That’s between us.”

Doflamingo’s frown deepened. He finished his wine in one gulp and muttered, “You’re going to regret refusing me, Demon.”

With that, he turned on his heel and walked away. 

Zoro’s eyes quickly found Sanji, who was watching Doflamingo warily as he stormed off. His gaze darted to Zoro for only the briefest of moments — assessing, finding nothing about him amiss, he assumed — before turning back to the conversation with his aunt. 

Zoro looked away, growing bored once more as he waited for this stupid thing to finally be over.

He wasn't sure how long he stood there with nothing to do but watch these stupid people. It felt like weeks, but it must have been hours. His feet were starting to get sore from standing for so long, and the manacles were grating on his wrist. 

At one point, Sanji did come over to see him, but he wasn't alone. 

Accompanying him was a petite older woman with short blonde hair, a large rotund man whose blond hair was done in a single braid down his back, and a tall, thin beanpole of a man with messy dark hair and a permanent scowl on his pale face. 

“What do you think, Sanji?” The woman asked with a sneer, “Do you think this one stands a chance?”

“I don't know, Aunt Stussy.” Sanji answered, his eyes glazed over and his tone dull, so different from the fiery personality he always had around Zoro, “I don't much follow the gladiator matches.”

“Yes, dear sister,” the large man laughed, “You know Sanji doesn't have the stomach for such things. Right, Caesar?”

“One would think, Scien.” The dark haired man, Caesar, clicked his tongue, “However, I’ve been hearing rumors that our little nephew here has been showing his face more often than not lately.”

Zoro went perfectly still, not daring to even breath as he firmly kept his eyes from meeting Sanji’s.

“Yes, Uncle Caesar,” Sanji admitted as he swirled his wine, “I'm to be a commander of our great legions soon. I thought it would do me good to adjust to the violence of it all, and the Grand Coliseum seems like the perfect place to do that.”

Scien scoffed, “You may not have much going for you, but you did always have a head on your shoulders.”

“I think it's cute.” Stussy chuckled and pinched his cheek, “He's trying so hard to not be the failure we all know he is.”

Sanji flinched, but remained silent. Zoro clenched his fists even tighter, suppressing the urge to defend him. 

“Speaking of your eventual command,” Caesar slithered to Sanji's side, “What does that mean for the Succession Battle Royale between the five of you? Since you and your brothers are leaving in a few months, it's still going to happen, yes?”

“Your father robbed us of our chance to earn the throne rightfully,” Scien scoffed, “so it better happen this time.”

“Power belongs to those who will do what no one else will,” Stussy mocked and rolled her eyes, “Honestly, he's insufferable. Should've killed him when I had the chance.”

“Anyway,” Caesar waved them off, “I know you backed out of the fight ages ago, but it's still happening at some point, yes?”

“I imagine it'll happen when we return from our commands.” Sanji frowned and took a sip from his glass, “As you pointed out, I will not be participating, so the Battle Royale doesn't concern me.”

“So have to wait a whole year for it?” Caesar scowled deeper, “Pathetic. I was hoping you brats would all kill each other and leave us to finally have our proper match.” 

“You know, maybe you can confirm something for me, dear nephew,” Stussy stepped forward and placed a hand on his shoulder, “I've heard whispers that Prince Niji has also withdrawn from the succession battle. Is this true?”

“What?” Caesar’s jaw dropped, “Really? Did Ichiji finally get to him I wonder? He has been manipulating things behind the scene so the others drop, hasn't he?”

“Perhaps it was Yonji,” Scien mused, “He has been training a lot recently. Have you seen is muscles? Wouldn't be surprised if Niji didn't want to go up against that.”

“Or maybe,” Stussy’s gaze slid to Zoro, “He's betting on a better way to get it.”

Zoro scowled and looked pointedly away, doing his best not to fidget at her stare.

“My brother’s business and his reasons are his own,” Sanji replied calmly, “I cannot comment on them. All I know for sure is that Ichiji, Yonji, and Reiju are still very much preparing for the Battle Royale.”

“Really?” Caesar blinked in shock, “Reiju thinks she can win?”

“She’s not soft like you are,” Scien noted with a nod, “But she’s Judge’s lapdog, always doing everything he says, no questions asked. Didn’t think she had much of an interest in actually ruling.”

“Bah,” Stussy waved him off, “All of our beloved nephews are the same, Judge has them trained well. If Reiju thinks she stands a chance, who’s to say she doesn’t?”

The three walked away, continuing to bicker over which of their nephews would win in a death match.

Sanji lingered for a moment, and Zoro risked a quick look at him. Sanji looked back, and spared him a small smile for the briefest of seconds before his dull, blank mask returned and he wandered off.

Zoro sighed and stood a little straighter, resigning himself to boredom for the rest of the night.

“This is a big match day,” Sanji said as he paced the little room, smoke filling the space as he puffed on his pipe, “Just about every noble in the city is in attendance, and some have even made the trip from outside the city just for today.”

“Yeah,” Zoro rolled his eyes as he adjusted the two swords on his belt, “I know.”

“This’ll be your fiftieth win,” he continued, sucking down smoke as if he breathed that instead, “We’ll be halfway there, but that only means Judge will be all the more determined to kill you. Don’t let your guard down.”

“I won’t.” Zoro assured him, but Sanji seemed more focused on making a hole in the floor than listening to what he had to say.

With a sigh, Zoro stepped into his path, forcing Sanji to come to a stop. Sanji stared at him with a scowl tight across his face, his curled brow rising.

Zoro placed a hand on his shoulder, “It’ll be fine. I’ll be fine. We can do this.”

Sanji relaxed a little, his shoulders slumping a bit under Zoro’s touch as he took another hit from his pipe.

“Yeah,” he exhaled, the smoke escaping his mouth in a steady stream as a sure smile grew on his face, “We can do this.”

They took a few moments to just stand there in silence, taking comfort and strength from the others presence, but all too soon, Zoro found himself ushered away and right back into the arena.

Zoro’s match was the last one of the day. By the time it was his turn, he was getting antsy, more than ready to let loose on whoever Judge threw at him today. Zoro stepped through the pools of the defeated gladiator’s blood as he finally entered the arena.

“And for our final match of the day,” the announcer’s voice boomed over the growing hum of the crowd, “Marking his halfway point in our humble Coliseum with his fiftieth match, the undefeated, unkillable, unrepentant, Demon of the East!”

The cheers echoed around the arena. Zoro kept his face disinterested as he scanned the crowd, finding Sanji and the rest of the Vinsmokes in the upper level. The Emperor and all five children were here today, Sanji’s brothers chatting excitedly amongst each other while his sister looked as uninterested as she ever did. Sanji himself kept his face carefully blanked, but spared him the smallest of smiles when their eyes met.

“And his opponent!” The announcer continued once the crowd quieted down, “Going for his ninety-eighth win — the first time in over a decade we’ve seen a warrior climb this high! The current Grand Coliseum Champion, the vicious massacre man, Killer!”

Zoro froze, the deafening cheers turning to static in his ears as Killer stepped out from the other side.

For as long as Zoro had been in Germa, Killer had been the Coliseum’s champion. He’d always been the one on top, always the one to chase, the only constant presence in the arena, the closest thing Zoro had in here to a friend. Zoro knew he’d been offered the army out time and time again, but he’d always refused it on principle, determined just like Zoro to break through and win his freedom on his own merits. Zoro had been rooting for him, tracking Killer’s matches just as closely as his own as he passed ninety wins.

And now, with two wins left until his freedom, Zoro had to kill him.

“What’s the matter, Roronoa?” Killer said, startling Zoro out of his daze, since he was unaware Killer knew his real name. He drew his weapons, two long, curved blades sharpened to a deadly point, “Don’t tell me you’re going soft now.”

Zoro scowled, but drew his katanas, his hands steady and lips tight as he faced down Killer.

It was either Killer or him. If Zoro fell here, Sanji would be trapped in Germa. No matter what, he had to win.

He spared a quick glance up to Sanji, who had his fists clenched tight in his lap, before returning his focus to the foe in front of him.

Killer raised his weapons as well, and the fight was on.

Their blades clanged together in the initial clash, neither of them giving an inch. To break the tie, Zoro borrowed one of Sanji’s moves he’d learned through all their spars and drove his knee hard into Killer’s side.

Killer grunted, his guard wavering just enough for Zoro to break through, aiming Wado for his neck.

Killer bent backwards to dodge, and at the same time thrust one of his curved blades out, piercing Zoro’s side.

Zoro grunted, but dislodged the blade and took a step back, getting some space between them as he analyzed the fight.

Killer was faster than anyone else he’d faced here in the arena, but not faster than Sanji. If Zoro kept his focus and used what he’d learned during their spars, there was no way he would lose.

As soon as he’d thought that, Killer was on him again, one of his blades swiping low to get at his knees while the other went high to aim for his head. Zoro blocked both attacks, then lunged forward with one of his own, both blades slashing out in a vicious arc. Killer dodged them both, one of his blades coming down and leaving a clean cut along his arm. 

Zoro hissed as he backed off again, frustrated that Killer had gotten two hits on him already while Zoro hadn’t managed to land any. 

With a growl, Zoro charged forward ahead, both swords slashing out at Killer’s head. Killer caught them with his blades and, with a complicated wrist movement, managed to yank Kitetsu out of Zoro’s grip and toss it to the side.

Panicking, Zoro went for it, but Killer was quicker, his blades coming straight for Zoro’s neck with no room to block.

In a move Sanji must have used on him dozens of times, Zoro bent backwards until he was on one hand, driving his foot up into Killer’s jaw to disrupt his attack. As he staggered back, Zoro grabbed the hilt of Kitetsu with his teeth and righted himself, turning his head to land a clean slice across Killer’s stomach. 

Killer hissed as he jumped back out of reach of Zoro’s swords. Zoro stood up with a smirk, returning Kitetsu to his hand as he waited for his next move.

Killer circled him for a moment, flipping his blade around his wrist. Zoro echoed his movements, keeping his eyes on Killer as they carefully circled each other. 

Between one step and the next, Killer darted forward, the tips of his blades aiming for Zoro’s neck, Zoro raised both his swords to block, but while he caught one, the second was a feint. 

Killer brought his blade upward in an arc, slicing the left half of Zoro’s face. Zoro snarled as he jumped back, feeling the blood pouring out of the wound, unable to open his eye.

Killer didn’t give him a moment to recover, charging forward with his blades at the ready. Zoro blocked them with Kitetsu and dodged to his good side, slicing Wado down at his shoulder hard and taking his arm with it.

Not even that slowed Killer down. He turned around Zoro’s blade as if in a dance, coming at him from his blind side aiming straight for his neck.

Zoro ducked just in time, bringing Kitetsu up to take his other arm, the blood spilling down Zoro’s front. Killer kept charging, and Zoro stuck Wado out, sending her straight through his stomach.

Killer coughed, blood pouring out behind his mask, “Well fought, Roronoa.”

Zoro clenched his teeth, his good eye stinging, “I’ll find Kidd for you. Tell him what happened here.”

Killer laughed, “Don’t bother. If you tell him you killed me, he’d never let you live. Put all your work here to waste.”

He nodded, his voice sure even as his body went limp, “Make it out of here, Roronoa. If anyone can, it’s you.”

Zoro nodded, his throat too tight to say anything more, and glanced up at the top level.

Sanji’s face was pale, his fists clenched on his knees the only other sign of his worry. The rest of the brothers were laughing with vicious glee, but he was shocked to see the princess had her eyes closed and head bowed in mourning for the fallen warrior.

He wondered for a moment what the princess being Emperor would have been like as his gaze moved to Judge.

 For the first time Judge looked pleased at Zoro’s victory, a cruel smirk cutting across his face. Something in Zoro rebelled at the sight, the sharp realization hitting him that he was being used as the weapon in this instance against Killer. It made him want to puke.

The Emperor extended his hand, his thumb shifting to point down.

Zoro turned back to Killer, still wheezing with Wado through his gut, and hesitated.

“Make it quick,” Killer said, his eyes drifting shut, “Don’t disappoint your prince.”

“Sorry.” Zoro mumbled, his eye sliding shut as he brought up Kitetsu and sliced clean through his neck.

The crowd roared in approval as Killer’s head went flying, landing and rolling in the dirt a few feet away from him. 

“Most esteemed ladies and gentlemen!” The announcer shouted over the crowd as Zoro removed Wado from Killer’s body and flicked off his blood, “In a stunning upset and with his fiftieth victory, we have a new Grand Coliseum Champion: The Demon of the East!”

Zoro continued ignoring the crowd as he cleaned off Kitetsu, returning both swords to his sheath when he was done. He spared one last look at Killer’s head, sent a silent prayer to the gods he didn’t believe in for him, then turned and exited the arena.

As he was being ushered to the room in the top ring, he started to feel the pain on the left side of his face. He lifted his hand up to touch, only for it to come away soaked in his blood. When he tried to open the eye, the pain grew overwhelming.

He was shoved into the room where Law was already waiting, suturing equipment at the ready. Law grabbed his arm and forced him down into the chair before leaning over to look him over.

“He got a couple of good hits on you, as expected of the champion,” Law muttered mostly to himself as he examined him, “But this eye is clearly the worst of it. Can you open it?”

“Hurts,” Zoro grunted, all the pain Killer caused catching up with him now that the adrenaline from the fight was wearing off.

“I bet it does.” Law grabbed the eyelid and forced it open, making Zoro hiss, “Can you see anything?” 

Zoro looked as far as he could to the left, but no matter what he did, that bit of blackness where his sight should have been remained, “...No.”

“I was afraid of that,” Law sighed as he pulled away. 

Sanji burst into the room then, his cloak billowing behind him as he shut the door quickly, “Is he alright?”

“His eye is done for,” Law explained as Sanji lit his pipe, “Leaving it in will cause short term problems and eventually lead to sepsis, so I’ll have to remove it.”

Sanji made a disgruntled noise almost like a squeak, but Zoro just nodded, “Fine. Do what you have to.”

Law grunted and continued, “It’ll be best to put something in there to replace the eye. Not just for aesthetic reasons,” he held up a hand, cutting off Zoro’s protest, “Your physical condition will continue to deteriorate if we don’t.”

“Okay,” Sanji nodded, “What are the options?”

“Wood would be cheapest,” Law said as he grabbed a damp cloth and turned back to Zoro, wiping up the blood around his face and replacing it with a cream that numbed the area, “Glass would be best.”

“Wood is fine,” Zoro insisted, making Sanji scowl.

“You’re getting a glass eye and you’re gonna like it,” Sanji huffed as he bit the end of his pipe, “Do you need it now?”

“I already have it,” Law said as he switched to his suturing equipment, “I have a couple prosthetics on hand just in case.” His gaze slid to Sanji, “You can buy me a replacement later.”

Sanji nodded, pacing and smoking in the background as Law began stitching. 

When he was finally done treating and bandaging Zoro’s wounds, he pulled back with a sigh, “Luckily you’ll have a chance to rest for a few days before they throw you back in there. I’d like for you to take at least a week off, but we should save smuggling you out of here for when you’re actively dying.”

“But,” Sanji puffed on his pipe as he hovered just behind him, “He’ll be okay?”

“He’ll be okay,” Law confirmed, “For now. In a fair and just world he would have an extra rest day before being thrown back into the arena, but as the new Champion, Judge wants him dead all the more.”

Law turned to Zoro then, something close to pity in his eyes, “It’s likely you’ll be getting less and less time to rest from now on, and even more difficult opponents to face. Be prepared for that.”

Zoro blinked at that — awkward now with just the one eye — the realization fully hitting him.

He was the Champion now. He was the top of the heap, the one to beat. 

Law gave him instructions on how to wash around the new stitches, and Sanji smuggled him out of the arena and into the royal baths. 

“I’m sure the others won’t linger at the Coliseum much longer,” Sanji said as he guided Zoro to the edge of the largest bath, “But luckily Law said you can’t do a full soak, so I’ll just wipe the blood off so we can get out of here quickly.”

Sanji slipped into the warm water as Zoro let his feet dangle in it, doing his best not to scratch at the itchy wound covering what was left of his eye. Sanji grabbed the nearby cloth and soaked it in the warm water before gently washing away the blood and dirt left on his skin.

Zoro watched as the red filtered into the water, not knowing which of it was his and which of it was what was left of Killer. It was strange knowing the other man wasn’t going to be around anymore, that someone new would fill his cage soon.

His hand started shaking, and he gripped it tight to steady himself.

What was done was done. He did what he had to do to get Sanji and himself out of this place. Killer had been doing the same and had no regrets, so neither would Zoro.

A gentle hand lay across his fist, and he glanced up to see Sanji staring at him with those bright blue eyes of his.

“Are you okay?” He asked softly, his thumb running gently across his knuckles.

“I’m fine,” Zoro sighed, his eye sliding closed as he gave himself over to Sanji’s ministrations, “This is nothing.”

Sanji hummed as he continued, lifting the cloth to wipe the blood off his face, dabbing it softly against his wounded eye, “I’m sorry.”

Zoro growled as his eye snapped open, “Again? I’ve told you, it’s not your fault I get hurt.”

Sanji pursed his lip, his gaze fixed on the wound as he continued cleaning it, “I still haven’t gotten you that third sword. If I did, this wouldn’t have happened.”

Zoro clicked his tongue and glanced away. True, with all three swords he probably wouldn’t have taken that hit, but it was more his own damn fault for not being strong enough without it than Sanji’s.

“Law’s right,” Sanji continued as he switched to the other side of Zoro’s face, getting the blood there Law missed, “It’s only going to get harder from here on out. As the gladiator with the most wins, Judge is going to throw everything he has at you.”

He paused, his eyes finding Zoro’s, “I’ll find you that sword. You’ll need it.”

Zoro swallowed thickly, something warm and pleasant burning in his stomach at the sight of Sanji’s conviction.

“I know you will.”

Just as Law predicted, his rest days quickly dwindled. Now whenever there were matches in the arena, Zoro was expected to participate.

Adjusting to the one eye brought a whole new set of challenges. He hadn’t really thought much about how his peripheral vision and depth perception lent itself to his fighting, but now that they were suddenly gone, he found himself struggling to cope. He always learned best with trials by fire though, so if there was one good thing about the constant fighting, it helped him adapt to his new disability that much quicker.

Judge was throwing everything he had at him too, more exotic animals, the biggest and toughest gladiators in the dungeon, any new prisoner that gave Germa enough trouble, they were all sent his way. One memorable occasion saw Zoro against five different gladiators teaming up to fight him, and Zoro was severely disappointed that it didn’t count as five victories when he defeated them, although the Emperor did finally show mercy for the last two and allowed them to live. Couldn’t lose so much of the gladiator pool all at once, Zoro supposed.

Zoro was starting to feel the constant fighting, the matches getting harder and harder as time wore on. What made matters worse was Sanji seemed to have vanished. For the past few weeks, he showed neither hair nor hide in the arena, sending Law to check up on him before and after each match to give him his swords and bring him food to the dungeon at night, although even that was a dip in quality from Sanji’s usual fare. 

Sanji had been the one tolerable thing about this place. With him gone, Zoro was truly starting to feel lonely and miserable, spending his nights alone in the dark with only his ever growing tally marks on the floor and the handkerchief as a reminder of life outside the arena. 

Thankfully just before his sixty-sixth match, Sanji made his reappearance.

“Where the hell have you been?” Zoro growled, making Sanji scowl in return.

“Excuse me,” he huffed as he smoked his pipe, “I had business to attend to outside of the city. I am still a prince, you know. I have things to do.”

Zoro crossed his arms and scowled, “What business?”

“Troop inspection at the Deul front,” Sanji’s frown deepened as he glanced away, “If we’re going to be commanders, we need to get used to the conditions there.”

That sobered up Zoro almost immediately. Sanji’s birthday was fast approaching, and so was their deadline for getting him out of Germa unscathed. 

“How are you?” Zoro found himself asking, making Sanji’s brows shoot up his head. He scratched the back of his neck, “I mean, has anyone tried anything?”

“Nothing I can prove,” was what Sanji settled for, exhaling smoke with a sigh as he glanced out the window, “There were a couple of “accidents” on the way back though, and I’ve taken to preparing my own food as a precaution.”

His eyes slid back to Zoro, “Don’t worry about me. I’ll be fine, focus on your matches.”

“I have been,” Zoro assured him, “I’m still here, aren’t I?”

“So I see.” Sanji reached down to pick something up and placed it on the table, “Here, as requested.”

Zoro froze as his eye scanned the purple katana on the table. The deadly aura it gave off, the detail on the saya, the design of the hilt, this could only be one sword. Zoro carefully picked it up off the table and turned it over in his hand, “Where did you get this?”

“I met a man from Wano while in Deul.” Sanji explained as Zoro unsheathed the sword, “When I asked him if he knew where I could get a katana, he handed me that. Said it was looking for a worthy master and wanted to come with me.” Sanji clicked his tongue and scoffed, “Didn’t even let me pay for it, so it’s probably shit. Or cursed again.”

“Not shit.” Zoro said as he examined the blade, “As for cursed, well. Depends on how you define a curse.”

Sanji’s brow furrowed, “What the hell does that mean?”

“This is Enma,” he explained, shifting the blade so Sanji could see the hammon, “It’s one of two mythical swords of Wano. Legend says whoever can successfully wield it will become the King of Hell.”

“Oh damn,” Sanji whistled low, “Where the hell did that guy get something like this?”

“Dunno,” Zoro returned the sword to its sheath and slid it onto his belt along with the others, “But I’ll take it.”

“Is Demon not enough for you?” Sanji quirked a brow, “You wanna add King of Hell to your moniker?”

He shrugged as he adjusted to the new weight, finally feeling right again with three swords, “If it gets us out of here, why not?”

“If you say so,” Sanji sighed, then brought himself up to his full height, “You better not disappoint me.”

“Don’t worry, your highness,” Zoro’s grin turned feral as his hand landed on the new sword, “I won’t.”

With Enma by his side and three swords at his disposal, the matches became all too easy. He sliced down anything and everything Judge sent his way — much to the Emperor’s eternal frustration — and continued winning match after match.

New gladiators came and went. He continued trying to share Sanji’s food with the rest of them, but as time wore on and he climbed higher and higher, his peace offerings were refused more and more. No one tried anything yet, but he could never quite feel safe around the other gladiators, or escape their furious gazes.

The night after his seventy-fifth match, the guards approached his cage. They unlocked it, shackled him up, and dragged him out of the arena.

It was just him and they had skipped the tidying up, so it wasn’t one of the Winner’s Galas. Just where the hell were they taking him?

“Prince Niji has requested your presence for the evening.” One of the guards huffed as an explanation, “You’d better be on your best behavior, and do everything his highness commands of you, or there will be consequences."

Zoro scowled, determined to do no such thing. He’d kill Niji before letting him lay a hand on him, consequences be damned.

He was dragged through the opulent halls of the palace to a huge door with a large blue two on it. One of the guards lifted a hand to knock, but before he could a voice said, “There’s no need for that.”

The group turned to find Law standing there, looking as pale and put out as ever as he continued, “Prince Niji is currently training on the grounds. His highness has asked me to escort the prisoner to him.”

“With all due respect,” the guard scoffed, “This here is one of the Coliseum’s most dangerous gladiators. Are you sure you can handle him?”

“I’ll be just fine,” Law assured them, holding out his hand for the key, “It’s the prince who will be dealing with him. You’re not doubting the strength of one of Germa’s noble princes, are you?”

The guard paled, quickly handing over Zoro and the keys to his cuffs.

“Thank you,” Law said as he nodded at the guards, “He will be returned to his cage before the match tomorrow.”

The guards nodded, then turned to leave as Law grabbed the chain binding Zoro’s wrists together and guided him further down the hallway. 

“What the hell is going on?” Zoro hissed in Law’s ear as he followed behind him.

“Saving you from an untimely demise,” Law said as they rounded another corner, “Sanji heard whispers that Doflamingo was planning on having his gladiators jump you in your cage tonight.”

“I thought killing outside of the arena wasn’t allowed.”

“I’m not sure if you’ve noticed, but in Germa what is and isn’t allowed is circumstantial at best,” Law huffed as he came to a stop in front of a new door. This one was much smaller than the previous, and had a yellow three on it.

Law entered without knocking, shutting the door quickly behind him. The room was a small sitting room, the walls a bright and sunny yellow with a plush couch tucked against one of the walls and a couple of end tables surrounding it. A large portrait of the Emperor lording over his fallen enemies hung on the wall behind it, but other than that the space was devoid of any decoration.

“Sanji,” Law called out as he wandered further into the room, “we’re here.”

Sanji appeared from one of the side rooms, smoking his pipe as he gave them a quick look over, “Did you run into any trouble?’

“Not really,” Law shrugged as he turned to unlock Zoro’s cuffs. When they clattered to the ground, he handed Sanji the keys, “He’s all yours.”

With a final wave, Law left.

Zoro immediately turned back to Sanji, “So what the hell is going on?”

“Doflamingo’s extra pissed off at you,” Sanji sighed, exhaling smoke, “The last five gladiators you killed were his. He’s letting the rest of his gladiators out of their cages to kill you while you sleep tonight.”

“I got that part,” Zoro rolled his eye, “I mean, what am I doing here?”

“This seemed like the safest place for you to spend the night,” Sanji frowned as he nodded around the room, “It’s not uncommon for the members of the imperial family to request a gladiator’s presence in their bedchambers, although admittedly it has been a while.”

“And why did the guards think Niji was the one who summoned me?”

Sanji shrugged, “People already think he’s your sponsor. Might as well use it.”

Zoro remained silent as he glanced around the room. He was confident that he could’ve fought off anyone Doflamingo threw at him, but not having to fight for once was nice. If Sanji could cover his tracks by directing the blame for his being here to Niji, even better. 

Sanji began fidgeting, playing with the stem of his pipe as he glanced away, “If you’re not comfortable here, we can find other accommodations for you.”

“It’s fine,” Zoro was quick to assure him, “Thank you for having me.”

Sanji glanced at him from behind the fringe of his hair, a soft smile gracing his lips, then nodded towards the room he’d come from, “I know Germa’s dungeons don’t offer the best facilities, so you’re welcome to the bed for tonight.”

Zoro’s brow furrowed, “I’m not kicking you out of your bed.”

“You’re not,” Sanji huffed as he crossed his arms, “I’m offering it to you. I’ve slept in worse places, the couch is fine.”

“I’ve slept in worse too,” Zoro crossed his arms, “Anything’s a luxury compared to where I’ve been sleeping. I can take the couch.”

Sanji snarled and gestured towards the door, “Stop being a stubborn idiot and take the shitty bed.”

Zoro growled, stomping over to the door and yanking it open to see what he was dealing with.

Sanji’s bedchambers were only slightly smaller than the sitting room. Wado, Kitetsu, and Enma were stored carefully on a rack on the wall next to his wardrobe, and the side tables were filled with a clutter of objects. In the center of it all was a giant bed, one of the biggest Zoro had ever seen.

Zoro turned to glare at Sanji, “That bed is huge.”

Sanji’s cheeks flushed a brilliant pink. His eyes darted away as he puffed on his pipe some more, letting out a soft, “I didn’t want to assume…”

“You’re such an idiot,” Zoro rolled his eye as he grabbed Sanji’s arm, all but dragging him into his bedroom, “If we can both fit in the bed, we can both sleep there.”

The blush on Sanji’s face spread all the way to the tips of his ears. He scowled as he made a beeline to the side table to put out his pipe and muttered, “Fine.”

Zoro grunted as he finally collapsed in the bed, letting himself sink into the soft mattress. The only place to sleep in the dungeons was on the hard stone floor, and while he'd been on a bed when he stayed at Law’s he was too distracted by almost dying to properly enjoy it. Here though, safe in Sanji’s room, he allowed himself to bask in the comfort of it. 

He watched Sanji putter around the room as he got ready for bed, cleaning out his pipe, lathering himself in strange scented lotions, changing out of his tunic into lighter sleep clothes, Zoro was fascinated by the intricate routine. 

While Sanji moved about the room, Zoro glanced at the trinkets on the table. Jars full of spices and seashells covered the surface along with a plethora of books and scraps of paper with what seemed to be recipe notes written on them. Zoro saw his name on one of them and, curious, picked it up to see what it said. 

Zoro likes white rice and fish. Hates sweets. Prefers soy sauce and simple flavors, enjoys seasoning. Rice balls + sushi. Experiment with more Wano recipes!

Zoro grinned, warmth filling his chest at how correct Sanji was with his taste preferences. He'd enjoyed everything Sanji had made for him, but knowing he'd been paying such close attention to his likes was nice. He couldn't remember the last time someone put that much care into him. 

As he put that paper back, he noticed a tightly wrapped scroll, the edges showing a slight browning from age. He picked that up and carefully unfurled it to reveal just one word written in neat, tight script. 

Baratie. 

“I was sent that about ten years ago.” Sanji’s voice startled him as he finally came to bed, “I looked it up. It's a small island off the coast of Alabasta, well outside of Germa’s influence.”

Zoro lowered to scroll and glanced up at him, “You think that's where your mom and Zeff ended up?”

“Maybe,” he shrugged as he put out the light and lowered himself to the bed, “It's not my mother's handwriting, but I don't know who else would send it.”

Zoro nodded as he put the scroll back where he'd found it, “Then that'll be our first stop once we get out of here.”

The corner of Sanji’s mouth twitched, his face softening as he said, “Yeah, I guess so.”

Zoro lay down on the bed, doing his best to get comfortable and go to sleep, but feeling Sanji’s body heat so close to his was too distracting. He glanced over only to find Sanji was still looking at him. 

“What?” Zoro asked with a frown. 

“Nothing,” Sanji said, although his gaze remained firmly on Zoro, “Just…you were a samurai right? That's what they call swordsmen in Wano?”

“It is,” Zoro sighed as he closed his eyes. He really didn't want to talk about it, but Sanji had already opened up to him so much, it was only fair that he returned the favor, “But I'm not a samurai, not anymore. I'm what's called a ronin, or a samurai without a lord.”

“Oh.” Sanji’s brow furrowed, the curiosity and question brewing in his eyes, but all he said was, “I see.”

Zoro turned onto his side so he could look at Sanji fully, “Her name was Shimotsuki Kuina. She was the only child of the daimyo, Shimotsuki Koshiro.”

“What's a daimyo?”

Zoro frowned as he tried to come up with a Germa equivalent, “It’s like…I guess what Doflamingo is. Not actually the Shogun — or Emperor — but the head of a family that could be. Each daimyo has his own territory that he rules over, but they're all supposed to serve the Shogun.”

“I see,” Sanji nodded, “So you served his daughter?”

“Yes,” Zoro closed his eye, “The Roronoas have been samurai for the Shimotsukis for centuries. Although Kuina never needed one.” His mouth twitched into a smile, “Women weren't legally allowed to practice swordsmanship, but she was still the best swordsman in all of Wano.”

“I'll bet,” Sanji grinned, “She must have given you a run for your money.”

Zoro chuckled, “Yeah, could never beat her even once. We’d made a vow when we were younger to one day leave Wano together and have one of us become the greatest swordsman the world had ever seen.”

Sanji’s smile softened, “And you're keeping your end of it.”

“Yeah,” Zoro smiled. Usually thinking of Kuina only brought him pain, but talking about her with Sanji reminded him of the good times, of the joy she'd always brought into his life. 

“What happened?”

The smile slipped from Zoro’s face. He turned and half buried his face into the pillow, “Politically, Wano is a mess. Shogun Kozuki Oden died suddenly, and his only son is eight years old. There was a huge power grab for the position, which sparked a civil war amongst the daimyos.”

He heaved a heavy sigh, “Daimyo Yasuie requested aid from Koshiro. He brought most of his samurai with him, leaving Kuina in charge of his territory while he was gone. So of course that's when Daimyo Orochi attacked.”

Zoro grit his teeth and clutched at the blankets, “Between the two of us we must have taken down five hundred of their samurai, but it wasn't enough. All it took was one to get through our defenses and…”

He hid his face in the pillow. Even after all this time, he couldn't say it. 

A gentle hand ran through his hair, soothing him enough to peek out from the pillow. 

“You do everything you could,” Sanji murmured as he continued stroking his head, “Both of you did.”

Zoro swallowed thickly and nodded, letting himself believe that for the first time, “They let me live. There is no bigger shame for a samurai than to outlive your lord, to be a ronin. You're either skilled enough to keep them alive or have the good sense to die protecting them.” He growled, “They wanted me to live with my shame.”

Sanji frowned, an emotion too soft for the likes of Zoro bubbling in his gaze. Zoro ignored it as he continued, “Wano tradition dictates that I should have committed seppuku — sliced open my own stomach — rather than continue living. But Kuina and I had promised that one of us would be the best, and with her gone that burden fell to me. I couldn't, not without tarnishing everything she stood for.” He shook his head, “By all rights Koshiro should have had me killed for not. But instead he banished me, allowed me to leave Wano on the basis that I never return.”

“Cast out of the only home you ever knew and forced to wander strange lands alone.” Sanji's frown deepened, “Sounds lonely.”

“It was the least I deserved after failing Kuina so spectacularly,” he insisted, then relented, “But yes, it was.” He glanced over at Sanji, struck by the blue of his eyes, and felt compelled to add, “It's not anymore.”

A small smile grew on his face, his eyes softening as he asked, “Could a ronin find another lord to serve? An unfavored prince maybe?”

“He'd have to be a huge idiot,” Zoro smiled back, “Or desperate to want a samurai who'd already outlived one lord.”

“And if he was?” Sanji said, almost too soft to hear, “Desperate, I mean, not an idiot.”

Zoro chuckled as he reached across the small space between them to push back Sanji’s hair, taking in his full face as he cradled his head. Sanji didn't object, if anything he leaned into Zoro’s touch. 

“Then yeah,” Zoro said softly, “I think he could.”

Sanji flushed hot enough Zoro could feel it on his palm. When he pulled away, Sanji immediately turned over so his back was facing Zoro, “W-well, we both have busy days tomorrow. We should get some sleep.”

“Yeah,” Zoro said, clenching his hand into a fist. 

He had to control himself. As much as he yearned, as much as he wanted, Sanji wasn’t his to have. He was helping Sanji, not making him uncomfortable with his too deep affections. 

“Goodnight, Mosshead,” Sanji whispered into the dark, almost too soft to hear.

“Goodnight, Curls,” Zoro said back, his eye tracing Sanji’s back  as he finally slid it shut. He fell into the deepest sleep he’d had since coming to Germa, Sanji’s warmth a comfort right beside him.

Zoro’s matches began to blur into each other, one bloody battle after the next. He kept an extra vigilant watch of his back whenever he was out of his cage and around the other gladiators. None of Doflamingo’s gladiators had approached him after the night he'd spent in Sanji’s room, but that didn't mean they weren't waiting for an opportunity. 

After his eighty-sixth match, he and the other top contenders were dragged out of their cages, bathed, and once more paraded in front of the noble families for their Winner’s Gala. 

He spotted Sanji almost immediately, sipping wine with a blank look on his face with the rest of his family, but didn't let his gaze linger on him. Instead he focused on enduring this spectacle.

Stussy hummed in front of him, her glass of wine cradled in her hands, “So this is the current Coliseum champion? Eighty-two wins isn't it?”

“Eighty-six,” Caesar scowled as he approached, “Although I wouldn't expect you to remember that.”

“It's not just that, though. He's the second gladiator to get above eighty wins this year isn't he?” Scien added, clicking his tongue, “Honestly Judge should be embarrassed.”

Caesar scoffed, “True. As far as the Emperor is concerned, him making it this far is a stain on the great Germa Empire. If we'd been allowed to go through proper channels of deciding the next Emperor after father died, I assure you I would not have let anyone make it past twenty.”

“Please,” Stussy scoffed as she swirled her wine, “If you’d managed to cheat your way onto the throne, every gladiator would’ve been freed, and there’d be no Germa left. If I’d been given my rightful due, however, no gladiator would make it past ten.”

“In your dreams maybe,” Scien laughed, “You’d be no better than Caesar at trickery. If I’d been allowed to properly win the throne, no gladiator would make it past two.”

The three of them continued bickering about who should be the rightful Emperor, and all Zoro could do was stand there and try not to fall asleep.

He really didn’t care what happened to this stupid empire once he and Sanji left. Part of him almost wanted to see Judge’s siblings finally do something about this grudge and kill him, but a much larger part was excited to have that honor himself in his hundredth match. As for who became Emperor after that, that was for these idiots to decide amongst themselves. 

“Most esteemed aunt and uncles,” Reiju’s approach put an end to their arguing, “I do hope you’re enjoying yourselves this evening.”

“Reiju,” Stussy huffed in barely concealed contempt, “How’s being your father’s lapdog going?”

“Very well,” Reiju’s smile remained plastered on her face, “Thank you for asking.”

“The empire has been expanding nicely ever since you were made commander,” Caesar noted with a scoff, “But by my count you’ve spent far more time at home than on the field of late.”

“I go where the Emperor sends me,” she tilted her head, “Currently he wants me close to the city.”

“I suppose he’s saving the real expansion work for the boys,” Scien laughed, “They’ll be made commanders soon, yes? Even Sanji?”

“Really, I’m most surprised Judge is going through with his appointment,” Caesar added, “He’s never shown much aptitude for, well, anything, and he’s never had the nerve to do what really needs to be done.”

“He’s too soft,” Stussy agreed, “A stain on the family.”

Zoro clenched his jaw so tight it hurt, his fingernails digging into his palms to keep an all too revealing growl from escaping. How dare these assholes talk about Sanji that way?

“I can assure you Sanji is more than capable of being a commander, and is ready for whatever tasks the Emperor requires of him.” Reiju responded, her posture and voice just a hair stiffer than usual, “All of the quadruplets are.”

The conversation petered out after that, with Judge’s siblings making their escapes until it was just him and Reiju.

She eyed him curiously, her blue eyes the same shade as Sanji’s, but devoid of his warmth. 

Eventually she murmured under her breath, “Is there anything I can offer you for you to make me Emperor instead of Niji?”

He raised a brow, “Have you had a gladiator fighting for you since Killer? Or have you just been stealing everyone else's?”

She blinked, “You knew?”

“Not until the end,” he admitted, “And he never said, if that is your concern.”

She closed her eyes and exhaled slowly, “It is a very dangerous thing for us to play these gladiator games. It's one thing for my aunts and uncles and the other noble houses to make a play for the throne, that's how the game works. It's another entirely for the Emperor’s children to refuse to wait their turn.”

She stepped closer, her voice going even lower, “It would be very dangerous for all involved if my father found out.”

“And yet you're here bargaining with me anyway.”

“I made a promise to my mother to protect my brothers,” she said, the fierce determination shining in her eyes, “For one of them, time is quickly running out. I can't afford to sit around and wait for my father to die on his own, and I refuse to fight the brothers I am trying to protect to the death for his throne. I have no other way forward.”

“I have my own promises to keep, your highness.” Zoro said, then dropped his voice to a whisper, “But I believe we share a similar goal.”

Her brow furrowed, and he continued, “For what it's worth, I think Killer was right. Of the five of you, you’d make the best Emperor. Make of that what you will.”

She eyed him for a long moment before a smile slowly spread across her face, “I believe I've underestimated you.”

Zoro grunted, but before he could say anything else, Sanji approached them, wine sloshing around in his glass and cheeks painted pink. 

“Reiju,” he whined, leaning into his sister, “You can't hide with the gladiators all night and leave me with these dismal people.”

“Sanji,” Reiju hissed, her arm wrapping around her brother's waist to support him, “You're drunk.”

“Yes, you left me alone to make nice with the gladiators,” he complained again as he sipped his wine, “I was stuck in a conversation with Niji and Caesar and Doflamingo. I had to drink to keep myself from saying something unbecoming to them.”

“Sanji,” Reiju said again, her voice forcefully even, “Perhaps you should go get some air before father sees you like this.”

“Yes, perhaps I should.” He nodded as he reached out and grabbed Zoro's wrist, “Since it's the Winner’s Gala, I should take a gladiator and go get some air.”

“Sanji.” She snapped, “That is hardly appropriate.”

“So is making them kill people, but we have them do it all the time.” He handed his empty wine glass to Reiju and tugged Zoro’s wrist, “Come, oh noble gladiator, walk the terrace with me.”

Reiju opened her mouth to say something, but Sanji was already guiding him away from the crowd of people, out through the large double doors and into the gardens. 

Zoro had never seen this part of the palace before. It was filled with green shrubbery and colorful flowers, with water features sprinkled throughout. He could hear other guests from the gala talking as they took their own walks through the terrace, but Sanji was quick to lead them away from anyone else, eventually stopping in a secluded section of rosebushes with an eagle fountain in the middle. 

“Here,” Sanji grinned as he pulled out the key to Zoro’s manacles, “Swiped this from the guards earlier.”

“You're playing a very dangerous game, your highness.” Zoro said as he held out his hands and let Sanji uncuff him. 

“Forgive me for wanting to spend some time tonight in bearable company.” Sanji sighed dramatically as he sat down on the edge of the fountain.

“So I'm bearable company now?” Zoro chuckled as he sat next to him, “I'm moving up in the world.”

“Don't get full of yourself,” Sanji huffed, “Being the most bearable of those shitheads isn’t a difficult feat.”

Zoro laughed again as he leaned back on his hands, “I guess not.”

Sanji hummed, then rested his head on Zoro’s shoulder, making him freeze in place. The warmth coming off of him bled into Zoro, igniting something in his stomach, his breath ghosting across his neck with every exhale. 

Sanji nuzzled against him, and Zoro’s breath hitched. Sanji turned his face up, the golden curtain falling away to reveal that intense blue, and Zoro found he couldn't look away.

Before Zoro realized it, he was leaning in, drawn to him like a magnet. At the last second, Sanji surged forward, his lips meeting Zoro’s in a passionate kiss. 

Sanji moaned as he moved against Zoro, his coming up to clasp his shoulder. Zoro’s hand twitched as he threw himself into the kiss, eventually settling on Sanji’s waist. 

As soon as he made contact, Sanji flinched and shoved him back. Zoro caught the panic in his eyes before he stood up and ran an agitated hand through his hair, “Shit…”

Zoro stood as well, frowning as he rubbed the back of his neck. He’d thought he’d read that situation right, that Sanji had wanted it too, but maybe he’d just let his own desires cloud his judgement and make things awkward.

Still, it was a hell of a kiss. His lips were still tingling from Sanji’s touch, and he couldn’t bring himself to regret it.

“This is bad,” Sanji groaned, his hand clenching tight in his hair as he started pacing, “Fuck. Shit. We’re so close and I’m ruining everything.”

“Wait.” Zoro grabbed his shoulder to stop him, “What are you talking about?”

“What do you think I’m talking about?” Sanji snarled as he tried to shrug him off, “Me kissing you. Me forcing my feelings onto you!” He shook his head, his eyes darting away, “You’re fighting for me, and you’re in no position to refuse me without risking losing my help.” He clenched his teeth, his hands balling into fists, “It’s selfish of me to do anything with you when you can’t really say no.”

“You’re such an idiot.” Zoro grumbled. Sanji’s eyes darted back to him, but before he could say anything else, Zoro lifted his chin with his knuckle, “Do I strike you as the kind of person who’d go along with what someone else wants? Regardless of the consequences.”

“No,” Sanji frowned, no doubt remembering just what got Zoro into this mess in the first place, “But-”

“And you’re not the kind of person who’d stop helping me just because I rejected you,” Zoro leaned in closer, his eye fixed on Sanji’s, “Are you?”

“No,” Sanji huffed, “But you don’t necessarily know that.”

“Trust me,” Zoro caressed his cheek with his thumb, “I do.”

Sanji visibly swallowed, his cheeks dusting pink as he remained perfectly still.

“So,” Zoro leaned in, “when I do this, know it’s because it’s something I want.”

He closed the distance between them once more, pressing their lips together in a slow but sure kiss.

Sanji froze for all of a second, then melted into it, giving as good as he got as his hand slid up to hold the back of Zoro’s neck.

When they parted, Sanji stayed close, leaning his forehead against Zoro’s.

“You really want this?” He whispered, his words dancing across Zoro’s lips, “Truly?”

“Yes,” Zoro assured him, his hands coming up to cradle his face, “I want this.”

Sanji grinned, a smile so bright it practically glowed in the dark of the garden, then leaned in and kissed him again.

As Zoro kissed him back, all his problems seemed to melt away, drowned out by having Sanji here in his arms.

Despite everything, there was nowhere else he’d rather be.

The day between his ninety-third and ninety-fourth matches, a new batch of prisoners were brought to the arena.

They were shoved into the empty cages as per usual, and Zoro was surprised to find a young girl put in the one next to him. She couldn’t have been any older than eleven, and had short dark hair and fierce grey eyes that reminded him so much of Kuina it almost hurt. Kuina had been about that age when he’d first met her, when he’d first sworn his loyalty and his life to her service. 

She turned to glare at him, “What’re you staring at?”

“Some snot-nosed brat,” Zoro huffed, making her growl as he leaned back against the wall, “What’d you do to piss them off enough to land you in here?”

She scoffed as she hugged her knees to her chest, “Germa’s invading my town. Me and some other kids formed a resistance group since the adults weren’t doing shit about it.” A half feral grin crossed her face, “Managed to take down three before they got me.”

“Impressive,” Zoro raised a brow, “Where are you from?”

“Nagels.” She tilted her head, “How ‘bout you?”

“Wano originally,” Zoro answered, “But they caught me in Shells Town.”

“Huh.” She raised a brow and shuffled closer to the bars, “Is it true what they said? One hundred wins and I’ll go free?”

“Never seen it happen myself,” he nodded at the wall full of tally marks behind him, “but that’s what I’ve heard.”

Her eyes darted across the wall, counting the tallies, and Zoro continued, “His name was Zeff. They say when he made it out, he took the Emperor’s wife with him.”

“Serves that bastard right,” she cackled as she leaned back, “So who’s farthest along?”

Zoro smirked as he nodded at the floor, “That’d be me.”

She turned once again to count, her eyes growing wide, “Nintey-three? Shit, you’re practically there.”

“Just about,” he nodded at her, “Just keep at it, you’ll get there too.”

“Well,” she crossed her arms, “Don’t get in my way. I’ve got things to do back home, and I intended to get there. If I meet you out there, I’ll kill you.”

Zoro clicked his tongue as he leaned back, “Same to you.”

The next day was match day, and while Zoro always expected to fight, he was surprised to find his new neighbor dragged out of her cell too. Save for special cases, they usually left the new prisoners to rot in their cells for a bit before putting them in the arena. She must have really pissed off Judge, but Zoro found himself rooting for her to prevail despite the odds.

He was brought to the room in the upper ring to meet with Sanji, who seemed antsier than normal as he handed over his swords. Zoro watched him pacing the room as he attached them to his belt, “What?”

“Nothing,” Sanji said as he puffed on his pipe, “Just…match ninety-four. You’re almost done. It’s starting to feel real, like we can actually pull this off.”

“Told you I would,” Zoro scoffed, making Sanji scowl.

He stopped his pacing and thrust his pipe at him, “Don’t get cocky. Judge is getting desperate to have you killed. He’ll throw everything he’s got at you, use every trick up his sleeve to make sure you lose.”

“And I’ll meet it head on,” Zoro stepped close to him, “I’m not going to let anything stop me now. I’m getting you out of here.”

Sanji exhaled the smoke away from his face, then leaned in and kissed him right on the lips, too quickly for Zoro to do anything in response.

Zoro blinked as he pulled away, “What was that for?”

Sanji grinned, then cradled his cheek, “Don’t die on me now. I’ve grown quite attached to you.”

With another kiss to his cheek, he sent Zoro on his way.

He arrived in the training room and took a quick look around. He was disappointed to find his new neighbor was on the other side, he’d wanted to get a feel for her style and maybe give her some pointers. He hoped she made it through regardless.

He kept to himself as he warmed up, the rest of the gladiators giving him his space. As the gladiator who’d been here the longest, he’d at least earned that much.

All too soon, it was time to pour into the arena and fight to the death.

Zoro was the sixth match of the day, and he watched the bloodshed of the first five matches with something close to boredom mixed with the anticipation. It wasn’t anything he hadn’t seen before, and he wondered how the nobles of Germa could be so entertained by this for so long. 

Then it was his turn.

Zoro stepped out into the arena with the usual chorus of cheers and boos, and kept his face disinterested as he glanced up at the top level. Of the children only Sanji and Niji were here, but Judge himself was also in attendance, sporting a smirk that made Zoro’s spine tingle.

“Here in his ninety-fourth match in our fair Coliseum,” the announcer was saying, “You know him, you hate him, the undying, unrepentant current Grand Coliseum Champion, the three sword wielding Demon of the East!”

The cheers grew deafening as Zoro drew Kitetsu and Enma, prepared to take on whatever Judge threw at him today.

“And his opponent!” The announcer continued, “The leader of the notorious rebels that have been hounding our brave troops in Nagels.”

Nagels? Why did that sound familiar?

“She took down three of our most noble of warriors with her scheming, underhanded tactics before she was finally subdued! The wiley, the duplicitous, the Phantom of Nagels!”

And Zoro’s new neighbor stepped out from the other side.

He almost dropped his swords in shock. He was known as a demon here, and even before arriving in Germa his brutality was talked about, but he’d never raised his swords against a child. Could he bring himself to kill her?

“No!” Sanji shouted, silencing the entire arena as he sprung to his feet, “Stop the match! She’s just a child!”

He turned to glare at the Emperor, “This is too cruel, even for you.”

Judge’s eyes narrowed, “She led armed forces against our legions. She and her group of insurgents directly challenged the Germa Empire. She is a criminal, just like all the others.”

“So the great and mighty Germa Empire can be brought to its knees by a child?” Sanji sneered, “How pathetic.”

“She needs to be made an example of,” Judge growled, “Before she and her ilk become something worse. To keep the Empire safe. To protect those who would resist Germa from sharing her fate by showing them the consequences.”

“This is murder,” Sanji insisted, “This is unjust and you know it.” He turned toward the crowd, “You all know it! This is wrong.”

“Power and privilege belong to the strongest,” Judge stated, “She has just as much a chance in there as anyone else. What's unjust about that?”

“You've always had a weak stomach for this kind of thing,” Niji chimed in with a smirk, “If it offends your delicate sensibilities so much you don't have to watch.”

Sanji snarled at him, then turned on the spot and stormed out, his cape billowing behind him. 

The crowd roared back into existence, chants of “Kill her, Demon!” and “Make her pay!” echoing around the arena. 

Zoro’s gaze remained on the upper level. In the shadows, Sanji stopped, his fists clenching as he turned back around to watch. 

Hidden so the rest of the crowd couldn't see him, but still there with Zoro no matter what happened next. 

Zoro took solace from that as he turned back to face his opponent. As the crowd reached a fever pitch, she raised her spear and her shield, then lunged at him. 

He blocked easily with Kitetsu, and the fight began in earnest. 

She was fierce and unwavering, but her technique was sloppy. Her arms were too short to make full use of any weapon, but her choice of the spear did increase her range. 

Zoro sheathed Enma as he weaved between blows, ducking the sharp tip and deflecting with Kitetsu when he couldn't. Soon he was in her space, sword at the ready. 

She winced and flinched, looking for all the world like a scared child, and Zoro was painfully reminded of the little girl he’d saved in Shells Town, the one he'd ended up in here for. 

He flipped the blade around to the dull side at the last second, smacking her hard in the stomach instead of slicing it. 

She coughed, a mouthful of saliva spewing from her mouth as she dropped her spear and fell to her knees. Zoro loomed over her, Kitetsu out and ready and humming for blood as the crowd chanted, “Kill her! Kill her!”

“What's wrong, Demon?” The girl snarled, turning her head to glance up at him, “I thought this was a fight to the death. You going easy on me?”

Zoro remained silent, but gripped his sword tight. 

“That's fine,” she chuckled as she grabbed her spear and shakily returned to her feet, “I can use that. I'm not going easy on you though.”

She turned to Zoro, her grin feral as she pointed her spear at him, “I'm gonna get out of here. I'm gonna win.”

With a shriek, she drove forward, thrusting the spear at him. He dodged easily, dancing around the blade until he found an opening. 

Zoro drove a knee into her unprotected side, winding her. As she stumbled back to catch her breath, he drove forward, disarming her with two swift strokes from Kitetsu and kneeing her again, this time in the sternum, forcing her to the ground once more. Another kick had her on her back, and the sharp side of Kitetsu’s blade at her throat decided the match. 

He glanced up to the top ring, spotted Sanji gripping the railing tight where he still watched hidden, his face pale and eyes wide. His eye quickly flicked to Judge, who looked as stern and emotionless about the proceedings as ever. Slowly, he extended his arm forward and tilted his thumb down.

Zoro swallowed thickly as he turned back to the young girl. Her lip trembled, her eyes watering as the fear finally sunk in, the realization that she was going to die here.

Zoro hesitated. How was she any different than Kuina, the young noblewoman who he’d sworn his life to protect and failed miserably? How was she different than the young girl in Shells Town he’d paid the price for protecting?

It wasn’t fair. He didn’t want to be Judge’s blade, to do his dirty work for him. If Judge wanted this little girl dead so bad, her blood should be on his hands, not Zoro’s.

None of this was fair.

But the choice was in Zoro’s hands alone: her life or Sanji’s.

Because if she didn’t die here, if Zoro didn’t win this match, if Zoro didn’t conquer the Grand Coliseum, Sanji would be trapped in Germa, subjected to his father’s whims, killed once he grew tired of having him around.

And when it was put like that, it really wasn’t a choice at all.

With a flick of his wrist, her head went flying.

The arena grew hazy after that. He cleaned Kitetsu and resheathed it, then made his way back inside. He thought Law looked over him at some point — not that there was much damage for him to fix — and maybe he’d been in the baths with Sanji, but the next thing he knew he was back in his cage.

At another point, the guards came and carted him off once more to the palace.

Zoro wasn’t quite sure what was going on, but did he hear Niji say, “What is he doing here?”

The guards paused, “You requested him, did you not, your highness?”

Niji seemed confused, “Huh?”

While everyone was trying to figure out just what was going on, Law interrupted, “Prince Niji, I believe Prince Yonji was looking for you? Something about testing out your swords for the Battle Royale?”

“That idiot,” Niji scowled as he stormed off, “If he breaks them again there will be hell to pay!”

The next thing Zoro was aware of, he and Law were back in Sanji’s room.

“You’re cutting it too close,” Law scowled as he glared at Sanji, “Between the outburst at the Coliseum early and Niji catching him just now-”

“Niji’s an idiot who cannot think for himself,” Sanji insisted, “And even if I get locked in the dungeon for my behavior today, we’re too close to my birthday for him to keep me there long. We’ll be fine.”

“I wish I shared your optimism,” Law growled, “You do know being squirreled away to the political dungeon is the perfect place for you to finally have your little “accident?” You are in more danger than you realize!”

“We’ll be fine,” Sanji insisted again, “I won’t die.”

Law stared at him for a long moment, then sighed as he unlocked Zoro’s cuff, “Fine, do as you please — you always do. But I’m afraid you’ll find your gladiator to be a poor bed partner this evening. He’s been fairly unresponsive since the match.”

“I noticed early when we were bathing.” Sanji’s brow furrowed, “What’s wrong with him?”

“Physically nothing,” Law shook his head, “But in my professional opinion he’s disassociating. That last kill hit him too hard. Mentally, he’s far away from here.”

“Zoro?” Sanji cradled his face to look in his eye, “Can you hear me?”

Zoro blinked, and he was in Sanji’s bedchambers, laying on his bed and staring at the ceiling above it.

He shifted, turning to his side to see Sanji next to him, worry filling his gaze.

“Zoro?” He reached out to caress his cheek, “Are you with me?”

Zoro nodded, leaning into his touch, “Yeah…I…sorry…”

“You’re okay,” Sanji pulled him against his chest and stroked his back, “You’re here, you’re with me now.”

Zoro buried his face into his nightshirt and clutched the back of it tightly, the events of the day catching up with him, and let out a sob.

Sanji held him tight, rubbing gentle circles into his back. Zoro cried until he had no more tears, then leaned into Sanji’s touch, letting his touch comfort him and the constant thrum of his heartbeat soothe him.

“Why?” Zoro croaked out, “She was so young…why did she have to…?”

“Because Judge is an asshole,” Sanji growled as he pulled him even closer, “He knows he'll have to face you in the final match soon. He wants you as broken and beaten as possible before then to make it easier for him.”

Sanji held him even tighter as he stroked his head, “I'm sorry. You're doing this all for me, killing for me…”

“I wouldn’t have made it through if it wasn't for you.”

Sanji froze, his arms squeezing Zoro as he let out a, “What?”

Zoro pulled away just enough to look him in the eye, “If I was just fighting for me to get out of here, I would've let her kill me. I alone wasn't worth her dying here.”

He cradled Sanji’s face gently, “But I'm not just fighting for me. I said I'd get you out, and I intend to do just that. I won't let anything stop me.”

Sanji’s eyes grew wide and started to water, and he said softly, “Don’t put this on me.”

“I'm not,” Zoro assured him, his thumb brushing away the tears that escaped, “I'm just saying you're the reason I've made it this far. You're worth more to me than anything, than anyone. No matter what I have to do, no matter what it costs me, I will get you out of here.”

Sanji shook his head, “I'm not asking you to do that. If it's too much-”

“Idiot.” Zoro growled, pressing his forehead against Sanji's, “You're getting it regardless. You’re important to me, Sanji.”

“You're important to me too,” Sanji admitted softly, pressing back against Zoro, “I don't…I couldn't live with myself if anything happened to you.”

Zoro's eye drifted shut, “Then I will always come back to you. No matter what.”

Sanji pressed his lips against Zoro’s, a light kiss, more of an assurance than anything.

“Do that,” Sanji said, the words brushing across his lips, “And I may just forgive you for the rest.”

Zoro’s lips twitched into a smile, and he let himself fall asleep surrounded by Sanji’s warmth and scent. 

Sanji went missing after that. He'd whispered against Zoro’s lips before he'd sent him back to the arena that Judge would probably throw him back into the dungeon for a bit for his outburst, but he promised him Law would still give him his swords and be available to patch him up afterwards. 

Zoro felt empty without Sanji there, even worse when he thought about where he actually was, but all he could do was endure and keep going forward. Keep fighting, keep winning, knowing that they’d be together again soon.

And sure enough, he made it to the one hundredth match. 

The whole dungeon seemed to have an air of solemnity when they dragged out the gladiators for the day, even the guards more subdued in their handling of him as some show of respect. 

Zoro glanced back at the tally marks on the floor as he left the cage for the final time, Sanji's handkerchief tucked away in his pocket. Ninety-nine marks to mirror the ninety-nine in the wall. Some part of him wondered if they'd bring hope to the next resident of that cage, but he shifted most of his focus to the task ahead. 

He picked up his swords from Law before the match, and asked, as he'd been doing lately, “Any news?”

“Word is the third prince has been seen in the palace this week,” Law told him, “I doubt he'll be allowed to come here since it's mostly to reassure the nobles he's still alive before his upcoming birthday, but it's something.”

“It's something,” Zoro grunted as he fastened his swords to his belt. As long as he could still claim Sanji it was fine. As long as he could kill Judge, the path forward was clear. 

In the training room the other gladiators gave him his space to warm up, giving him an even larger breadth than usual. Zoro used the time to meditate, to focus his mind and calibrate for the upcoming fight. 

He didn’t know what tactics Judge would use, having never seen the man actually fight, but he had to be prepared for everything.

He wouldn’t fall right at the end.

“Alright maggots, come get your match assignments!” The guard shouted as everyone gathered around. When he got to Zoro, he swallowed audibly, “Uh, you're the last match of the day. Sir.”

Zoro grunted as he took the number, expecting as much. 

He lingered around the edges of the arena as he watched the other matches play out. Just as much bloodshed as he'd come to expect from these fights. He hoped the winners would one day taste freedom too. 

Slowly, eventually, it came time for his match. 

Zoro walked out into the arena with his head held high, the cheers and boos washing over him. 

“And for our last match for you today,” the announcer said, his voice straining over the noise of the crowd, “In his one hundredth and final appearance in our humble Coliseum to earn his rightful citizenship in our beloved Germa Empire, the notorious, the blood thirsty, the eternal, the Champion of the Coliseum…the Demon of the East!”

The crowd roared, but Zoro ignored them, instead glancing toward the upper ring. All of the children save Sanji were there — as was usual these days, but he was shocked to see Judge himself as well. 

If he wasn't facing Judge in his final match, then just who the hell was he facing?

“And his opponent!” The announcer continued, “The man destined to end his rise to the top! Soon to be one of Germa’s very own commanders at the front-”

Zoro’s eye darted to the other gate. Surely it couldn't be…?

“Our very own prince, one of the prides of Germa!” The announcer said as the crowd roared, “Here to prove his worth and defend our beloved Empire from those who would bring it to ruin, the one, the only, Germa’s Stealth Black, the third prince…Sanji Vinsmoke!”

The ground dropped out beneath him as Sanji walked out into the arena, decked out in the armor of a Germa commander with a broadsword strapped to his hip. 

Zoro’s jaw dropped as Sanji made his way to the center of the arena. 

No…it couldn't be…they were supposed to make it out together…how was Zoro supposed to kill Sanji?

“Draw your swords,” Sanji said as he unsheathed his own, “Let's finish this.”

Somehow, shakily, Zoro withdrew Wado.

Between one blink and the next, Sanji was in his space, sword raised to strike. Zoro brought up Wado to block. 

“What are you doing?” Zoro hissed as he pressed back against him, “Why are you here?”

“You think I want to be?” Sanji growled back, “Judge found out I was sponsoring you! He found out about Baratie! He threatened to send my brothers there to conquer it as their first assignment if I didn’t kill you myself.”

He glanced away. “My mother and Zeff…I couldn’t risk it.”

He looked back to Zoro, his gaze determined, “There’s no other option, Zoro. You have to kill me and get out of here. Claim whatever you want from Judge and leave this miserable Empire behind.”

How could he ask that of him? How could he expect Zoro to just go on like he didn’t even matter.”

Sanji turned his weapon, capturing Wado and shifting her to the side, forcing Zoro back a few steps.

He charged again, sword raised high in an easily parriable attack. Zoro blocked it and kept retreating, fending off each of his strikes.

It was so different from when they fought in their spars. Aside from his use of an actual weapon, he could tell Sanji’s heart wasn’t in it. Their fights were fun, and he could tell Sanji enjoyed it, testing his limits against Zoro, matching him, rising to his challenge. Here he moved differently, a man on a mission, his bladework clean and impeccable.

He fought like a soldier, like Germa trained him to be.

He growled as he pushed back against Sanji’s next attack, knocking his sword aside and leaving the perfect opening for an attack, a kill shot straight at Sanji’s neck.

His hand shook. He didn’t take it.

Sanji lunged forward again with a scream, forcing Zoro to raise Wado to block, locking their blades together once more.

“What are you doing?” Sanji hissed between his teeth, pressing his sword harder against Wado, “Fight seriously.”

Zoro shook his head, “I can't kill you.”

“Do it.” Sanji said, his tone leaving no room for argument, even as his eyes darted away, “I was deluding myself thinking I could escape. Judge was never going to allow me to get out of here, but you still can.”

Sanji glanced at him and smiled, “Go on without me. Leave Germa and become the greatest swordsman.”

Zoro grit his teeth, but instead of taking the easy opening, he pulled back. 

Sanji blinked in confusion, but held his sword high. 

Zoro shook his head again, trembling all over. 

He didn't want to leave here without Sanji. He'd finally found something worth fighting for beyond his own goals, someone to be by his side until the bitter end. 

And the only way to earn his freedom was to kill him. 

It wasn't fair, none of this was fair. 

But it was clear Sanji had already resigned himself to his fate. He'd considered all the options and was willing to die here so Zoro could live. 

If this was what Sanji wanted, who was Zoro to deny him. 

He took a step back and withdrew Kitetsu and Enma, carefully placed Wado between his teeth, and turned to face Sanji once more. 

Sanji nodded as he readied his stance, prepared to meet his resolve head on. 

Zoro dashed forward with all three swords at the ready, sending Kitetsu and Wado high and Enma low.

Sanji blocked the two swords with his own, but let Enma slice across his thigh, wincing slightly, but the smile on his face grew feral, “Now that’s more like it. Show me what you’ve got, Demon.”

Sanji disengaged, knocking Zoro’s swords aside as he took a step back to regroup.

Zoro didn’t give him a chance to recover. He swooped in with a deadly dance of blades, moving faster and faster as he pushed the prince back. Sanji blocked most of them with his sword, but couldn’t stop them all, allowing Zoro to leave a plethora of cuts along his arms, legs, and torso. 

Sanji may not be trying, but he was still a fighter and couldn’t turn off that instinct if he wanted to, managing to get a few of his own hits in. A slash across his leg when he went high while Zoro went low, another around his ankles during the reverse. Shallow cuts, very showy, but nothing that would damage or slow Zoro down. Law may not even need the stitches for him.

Zoro grit his teeth tight around Wado, doing his best not to think about the doctor looking over Sanji’s body after he was done with him.

A solid swipe from Enma shattered Sanji's blade. Before he could react, Zoro darted closer, following it up with a slice from Kitetsu that knocked him to the ground. 

Zoro was on him in an instant, his knees pinning his legs on reflex, all three swords pointed at his neck. 

Sanji swallowed, the soft skin of his throat brushing up against the edges of the blades, but went limp under him as he closed his eyes, that soft smile gracing his lips once more. 

Zoro glanced up to the top level. The three princes sneered down at them, while Reiju’s disinterested mask was finally cracking, her eyes wide and lip trembling where she bit it. Judge’s face was carefully blank as he extended his arm and gave Zoro the thumbs down. 

The entire arena went silent for a second, then exploded with sound. Protests and shock overtook the crowd, everyone stunned by the Emperor’s decision to let his own son die. 

“He's the prince!” He heard someone shout, “One of the jewels of the Empire! You can't seriously let him die here!”

“If he can't even win here he's not worth much to the Empire,” someone else said, “He's a black mark on the noble houses! An embarrassment! Kill him, Demon!”

Zoro looked back to Sanji, lying there waiting for the final blow. 

“Thank you,” Sanji whispered, his voice barely above a breath, “For everything you've done. It didn't turn out the way I planned, but I don't regret it.” He opened his eyes again, the blue shining with unshed tears as he smiled, “I'm glad I met you, Zoro.”

Zoro growled, his eye sliding shut as he pulled his swords back and thrust Kitetsu and Enma forward. 

Sanji blinked up at him, his eyes darting between Zoro’s face and the katanas embedded in the ground by his head. 

The crowd went quiet as Zoro and Sanji stared at each other. Slowly, without breaking eye contact, Zoro took Wado from his mouth and returned her to her sheath. He spared a silent apology to Kuina and his unfilled vow as he placed Wado on the ground next to them, hoping she could forgive him for this. 

“You're a fucking moron.” Zoro growled as he pulled away, “Of course I can't kill you. I could never live with myself if I did.”

Sanji scrambled to sit up, “Zoro…what are you saying?”

“We’re partners, aren't we?” Zoro said as he cradled his face in his hand, “Our fates tied together? Either we both get out or we both fall. I refuse to outlive another lord.” 

He pressed their foreheads together, “If you're going to die here, I'll die by your side.”

“Zoro…” Sanji gasped, then threw his arms around him and pulled him into a kiss. 

Zoro kissed him back, letting the rest of the world fall away until it became only Sanji’s touch, Sanji’s scent, Sanji’s lips on his.

“Guards!” Judge bellowed over the noise of the crowd, his face red and contorted in rage, “Kill them both! End this pathetic display!”

Zoro pulled Sanji tight against him, pressing him close enough to feel his frantic heartbeat alongside his own. Sanji clutched him back, clinging desperately to him. 

“I love you,” Sanji whispered in his ear. Zoro held him even tighter in acknowledgement, overjoyed to have that here at the end despite everything, “I love you more than anything.” 

“I love you too. More than anything.” He smiled as he held him close, “Thanks for everything.”

Zoro closed his eyes as the guards approached. 

A bone chilling scream echoed around the arena, stopping everyone in their tracks. Zoro quickly glanced up at the upper tier, where Judge was looking at the blade sticking out of his chest in horror.  

Reiju stood behind him, the dagger gripped tight in her hand as she drove it even deeper into him. Judge coughed, blood spraying from his mouth as he turned to her in mounting horror, “Reiju…how…?”

“This is Germa.” She said coolly, “Power and privilege belong to the strongest, to those willing to do what no one else will.”

She hissed low, her voice carrying through the arena, “You’re a shit father and a lousy Emperor. You stole the throne out from under the others. You sold your wife for power that you didn’t earn, and are too weak to stop one gladiator from taking your son. You are not worthy of your title.” 

She withdrew the knife, and Judge sank to his knees, his hands clutching at the bloody hole in his chest. The blood gushed out of him, dripping between his fingers, staining the pristine stone high above the pit Zoro and so many others before him fought and bled and died in.

In the end, not even the Emperor was above the violence he lorded over.

“Your reign is over.” Reiju continued, her father’s blood dripping off the tip of the knife still clenched in her hand, “Do everyone a favor and die already.”

Judge did just that, collapsing on his side as the light left his eyes and the rest of his blood slowly drained away. 

Reiju picked up the crown that had fallen off of his head and placed it on her own. She glanced at her siblings, “Do you object?”

The three princes looked between each other and frowned.

“I already withdrew from the fight for the damn thing.” Niji shrugged, “Too much of a hassle. If you want it that bad, take it.”

“I didn’t actually want to rule,” Yonji admitted as he crossed his arms, “I just wanted to see if I was stronger than you guys. Being in charge sounds like a pain, I was going to give it to Ichiji if I won.”

All eyes turned to the oldest son. Reiju raised a brow, “Well, brother? What’s say you?”

“The throne has always gone to the strongest,” Ichiji finally said, “And the strongest is the one who’s willing to do what others aren’t, that’s the truth we were raised on.” He shook his head, “If this is how you want to go about it, I won’t fight you for it. However,” he arched a brow, “by taking it in this manner you’re opening yourself up for one of us to stab you in the back later down the line should we change our minds. Be prepared for that.”

“I understand.” She nodded, “It’s a necessary risk.”

With the rule of Germa settled, Reiju turned her attention to Zoro and Sanji in the arena, “Guards, stand down.”

There was a moment of tension where the guards decided whether or not to obey the new Empress. In the end they capitulated, sheathing their weapons and stepping away from them.

“Demon of the East,” Reiju continued, “You have won your one hundred matches and conquered the Grand Coliseum. You now have all of the rights and privileges of a citizen of the Germa Empire.”

Zoro pushed himself to his feet, offering Sanji a hand to help him up too, “Thank you, Empress. But there’s something else you have that I want.”

Reiju nodded, her face steeled and determined, “State your demand.”

“I want the third prince.”

Murmurs erupted from the stunned crowd, but Zoro’s gaze never left the Empress.

Reiju inhaled sharply, her eyes glistening over as her posture wavered. She nodded once, the corner of her mouth twitching into a smile as she said, “Then he is yours.”

Zoro turned to Sanji, grin wide on his face, and was met by the sunniest smile he’d seen from him yet. Zoro wasted no time pulling him into his arms and holding him close, the relief making him melt into the warmth of Sanji’s embrace.

They had done it. They were leaving Germa together.

The noise, the crowds, none of it mattered anymore.

Zoro had Sanji here safe in his arms. He had everything he needed.

They left Germa quickly after that, with no particular destination in mind save to get out of the city. 

They made one final stop at Law’s house so Sanji could thank him one last time for all his help and ask him to come with them. 

“As much as you two sorely need someone to stitch you up since you both seem incapable of avoiding harm, I'm going to have to pass.” Law grumbled, even as he returned Sanji’s hug, “I have some business I need to finish up in the city, but I’m sure it'll be a miserable time without you around. I plan to head north when I'm done, so if you're ever up that way feel free to visit.”

Zoro didn't have anyone else in particular he needed to say goodbye to, so the only other person they saw on the way out was the new Empress. Sanji said his farewells to his sister in private, but came out of the meeting with tears in his eyes and a smile on his face.

When that was all done, they were gone, never even looking back. 

They made their way south, and a few months later they found themselves in Alabasta, where they were able to secure a ship to take them to Baratie. 

Sanji took a deep breath as they disembarked, Zoro right behind him. His feet sunk into the soft white sand, and he paused for a moment to take it all in. 

The ocean was a deep blue where it met the beach, the sky big and endless. The air was warm and clear when Zoro breathed it in. It was a nice place to settle, almost like paradise. 

Zoro had never considered settling before, but if Sanji was with him, it sounded nice. 

“What if they're not here?” Sanji said, biting his lip, “What if Judge got to them first? What if they were never here to begin with?”

Zoro reached out to grab his hand, “We’ll never know if we don't look.”

Sanji squeezed his hand, “It's been so long. What if I’ve changed too much? What if they don't want me anymore?”

Zoro caressed his knuckles with his thumb, “I’ll still be with you, no matter what happens.”

Sanji turned to him, giving him a bright smile, then leaned in and kissed him. 

Zoro accepted the affection easily, letting Sanji’s warmth wash over him like a balm. He still had nightmares about his time in the arena, a lingering guilt about making it out when so many others didn't, apologies he could never make to the people he had to kill and the loved ones they’ll never see again. But Sanji’s presence helped soothe some of the hurts, his touch and constant comfort helped to drive away the darkness, and he knew his helped do the same for Sanji. 

They walked up the beach hand in hand, making their way through the small port town. It wasn't as grand as anything in Germa, but it was peaceful, the residents eager to greet them and answer their questions. 

They eventually made their way to a little restaurant on the outskirts of town, situated right by the coast, almost brushing up against the waves. A woman was out front sweeping, her golden hair shining and her eyes a very familiar shade of blue.

Sanji swallowed audibly and gave Zoro’s hand a squeeze, then stepped forward with a tentative, “Mother?”

The woman paused as she turned to them, her eyes growing wide and watery as the broom clattered to the ground. A smile slowly spread across her face as she said, “Sanji…”

Sanji sobbed, then rushed forward, sinking into his mother’s waiting embrace. 

“You’re here,” Sora cried as she held him tight, “You’re really here. And look at you!” She pulled away to cradle his face, brushing his tears away with her thumbs, “You’ve gotten so big!”

“Yeah,” Sanji laughed as he leaned into her touch, “It’s been a while.”

Sora pulled him into another hug, then spotted Zoro over his shoulder, “Who’s this?”

“Right.” Sanji pulled away and wiped at his eyes, then beckoned Zoro to come closer, sliding his hand into Zoro’s and threading their fingers together as he turned back to his mother, “This is Roronoa Zoro. He’s the gladiator that got me out.”

“I see,” something sad crossed her face, but her smile was wide when she turned to Zoro, “Thank you for saving my son, Zoro.”

Zoro blushed, his eye darting away as he rubbed the back of his neck, “He saved me first. It was my pleasure.”

Sora beamed at him, then nodded towards the restaurant, “Come inside, you must tell me everything.”

The restaurant was small, just a handful of tables scattered around with huge windows that let in the fresh sea breeze and offered ocean views, but it was a very peaceful atmosphere. This early no one was here yet, just the three of them and the delicious smells coming from the kitchen. 

“Zeff!” Sora called out as they came through the door, “Zeff, we have visitors!”

A grunt came from the kitchen accompanied by the steady thunk of wood on wood as a man entered the dining room. He had dirty blond hair, a braided mustache, and a peg leg along with sharp blue eyes that scanned the room, widening when they landed on Sanji.

“Eggplant,” he gasped, the smile growing on his face, “You finally made it.”

“Zeff,” Sanji grinned, his eyes watering again, “You’re not dead.”

“It’ll take more than that rat bastard of an Emperor to kill me.” He held out his arms, “Now get over here.”

Sanji rushed forward and hugged him too, melting into his embrace. Something in Zoro unwound that sight, in knowing that Sanji’s family was still here.

They moved to one of the tables where Zeff served them all a meal and finally got a chance to talk. 

Sanji updated his parents on their escape from Germa and Reiju’s ascendance to the throne, while Sora and Zeff talked about what they'd been up to since leaving Germa. 

“The plan was always to come back for you,” Sora explained, “To lie low for a bit on the outskirts of the Empire and recover, then return to the city and bring you with us.”

“But that clearly didn't happen.” Zoro said, raising a brow. 

“No,” Sora glanced away, tears in her eyes, “No it didn't.”

“Judge was relentless in his pursuit of us,” Zeff continued, “He may have become Emperor thanks to our little stunt, but we'd still embarrassed him and tarnished his reputation. If we ever stepped foot in the Empire, he would have had us killed.”

“We were forced to leave Germa entirely,” Sora said with a frown, her head drooping, “And between Zeff’s leg and my weak constitution, traveling became harder and harder. In the end, we had to pick a spot to settle and hope for the best.”

Zeff picked up her hand and placed a soft kiss on the back of it, making her glance up and smile at him. Zoro placed his own hand on Sanji’s where it rested on his knee and intertwined their fingers, earning him a soft smile of his own. 

“There wasn't much we could do to get to you outside of Germa.” Zeff continued, “We'd send you messages every time we crossed paths with someone heading that way telling you where we were.”

“I only got one of them,” Sanji stiffened, the guilt making his shoulders hunch, and Zoro caressed the side of his hand with his thumb until he relaxed, “But I suppose that was all I needed.”

“We were so worried,” Sora sniffled, “What if you’d died already, while we were waiting here? What if you’d become everything Judge wanted you to be and you didn’t want to leave?”

Zeff pulled her against his side and her and kissed her temple softly. She accepted the affection for a moment before shrugging him off.

“I felt terrible about it,” Sora continued, reaching across the table for Sanji’s hand, “What kind of mother am I to leave you behind in such a terrible place? I should have died trying to free you rather than live with the shame of it.”

“I couldn't ask you to die for me,” Sanji said as he took his mother’s hand, “I made it out. I found you again.”

Sora smiled, her whole face softening with the action. 

“What's next for you boys?” Zeff asked, wrapping an arm around Sora’s shoulders, “Now that you're free?”

“Well, Zoro is going to become the world's greatest swordsman.” Sanji stated like it was already fact, making Zoro smile and blush. 

“And Sanji wants to find the All Blue,” Zoro added, giving him a smile, “Now that we're free to travel, we're gonna start looking for that.”

“Sounds like you have quite the adventure ahead of you,” Zeff said with an approving glint in his eye. 

“Yeah.” Sanji laughed, squeezing Zoro’s hand, “But as long as we’re together, we can handle it.”

Zoro grinned, liking the sound of it more and more. 

They were still partners, still supporting each other no matter what came their way. 

If they made it, they'd make it together. If they failed, they'd fail together. 

There was nowhere else he'd rather be.