Fic: Deep Blue Sea (Chapter Six)
Wow. It's been more than two months since I updated this fic.
... Warning: I post this now, only somewhat skimmed by a second person, because my normal beta was either sick or doing more important stuff with people in real life instead of ever being online when I could send this to her. I decided that if I continued to wait for her to be online, I might as well submit myself for keelhauling, because I'd never get the motivation to work on Chapter Seven, which should be the last chapter. Blame all continuity errors and typos on her!
For those of you who need a refresher:
Prologue
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Interlude
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Title: Deep Blue Sea (Chapter Six)
Fandom: One Piece (c) Eiichiro Oda
Rating: PG-15 for language, violence, and mature themes
Summary: AU Warning. Myths and legends are reborn, men and monsters are set on conflicting paths, and all for the love of the Sea.
Chapter Six:
The Sea wore mourning shrouds in the form of heavy gray fog, darkened greatly by the grim clouds overhead and thick with the oppressive feeling of loss. Usopp stared blankly into the mist, sparing not a whit of attention for the procession of cooks that “escorted” the unconscious Krieg off of the Baratie. Luffy, of course, beat the man soundly, but the victory was overshadowed by the loss of Sanji to Arlong and the Flying Dutchman. Those cooks that saw their blond companion trying valiantly to fight the Bastard had little doubt that they would not be seeing him again. Even Zeff seemed shaken; the former pirate’s face did not show it, but the thumping of his peg leg sounded a little more hollow and unsteady.
Usopp didn’t want to believe that Sanji was dead. Part of his mind always remembered the seamaster as immortal and powerful, triumphant over a hungry shark and having escaped the Bastard’s clutches once before. And yet he also remembered tears of pearl spilling across the deck of his ship, just as he remembered sharp white teeth and the oh-so-red blood of a seamaster that could not Change. And the Sea, well…
One did not have to understand her tongue to know how deeply she grieved.
“We’ll get them back.” Luffy said, confident and quiet with eyes dark like the midnight zone but somehow so much warmer.
“What?” Usopp looked at his captain curiously.
“I’ve made up my mind.” Luffy shrugged. “We’re all going to go to All Blue together and have adventures. You, me, Sanji, the siren, and that other one Arlong’s keeping.”
“How?”
“She told me so, Usopp.” The Beloved of the Sea smiled before turning and bellowing across the waves, “We’re coming for you! Sanji!”
The ocean carried the echo long after it faded from the air, whispering it with every crest and swell of the water.
We’re coming for you.
We’re coming.
For you.
Sanji.
Sanji breathed.
In the distance, the sea raged against her bastard son. Wind howled, thunder roared, and mountains of water towered over the damned ship before crashing down like the walls of a besieged fortress.
The lean blond figure stretched out on the darkened quarterdeck began to stir as seawater absorbed into his pale skin at an alarming rate. Traces of blood and ghastly incisions alike washed away beneath the tide, flushing his complexion with the blush of vitality. The slight glow was a stark contrast to the dismal scene of the ship itself, ever beset by rain and waves.
Sanji groaned softly as the saltwater whispered its precious promise, words carried long and far for him alone. His body ached all over, partly lingering pain from the punishing abuse of the fight with the Bastard and partly for glutting himself on the Sea’s power after years of abstinence. Beyond the pain laid exhaustion, heavy weights on his limbs that held him motionless as his body tried to regain its strength.
Wait a moment…
He moved one arm weakly and was rewarded by the rattle of chains.
The seamaster’s eyes flew open in a heartbeat has he bolted upright, promptly cracking heads with the green-haired man who was leaning over him at the time. The stranger swore, virulent and violent, vicious words rolling off his tongue in the speech of the Sea. The expletives had no equivalent in human terms because few mortals had the capacity and creativity to describe the hiss and stench of sulfur that pervaded underwater trenches or the choking nausea of oil in the water. Those that could were all poets, and poets only composed of the Sea’s beauty and power. That being said, it was clear by the other man’s inelegant phrasing that he was no poet.
“What the hell is wrong with you?” He snarled, holding his injured skull and peppering his demand with Sea speech curses.
Sanji took a moment to stare dumbly. He felt entitled to it, first for hearing the mythical language coming from a human’s mouth, and secondly for said human’s face to be familiar, and more importantly, unchanged in the ten years since last he saw it.
“You…you can speak Sea speech?” The seamaster gaped. “I know your face; you’re-!”
Suddenly a rough hand was slapped over his mouth, silencing the revealing thought. The other man’s eyes gleamed sharp and piercing like those of the ocean’s predators. Absently, the cook noticed that the other man’s hands were heavily chained, just like his own.
“Keep your damn mouth shut if you want to keep your innards from being outside.” He growled. “None of them have figured it out yet; they think you’re like me.”
“Undying.” Sanji breathed in his mother’s tongue as the man released him. It was a word as beautiful as the sunset-kissed waters of the horizon and as terrible as the tsunami that towered to challenge the mountains. The other man stiffened at it, casting his gaze about suspiciously for any of the Dutchman’s crew.
“Seamaster.” He tossed back at him, somehow turning it into a sneering insult. The two words, Sanji mused, were not dissimilar.
The other man lapsed into silence at that point, his piece apparently said and his interest in his new, however unwilling, companion spent. The blond cook took the opportunity to study the stranger who knew him well enough to see through the masquerade that fooled Arlong without knowing him at all.
He was a young man, no older in appearance than Sanji seemed to be, but as they were both immortal appearance held no relevance to true age. The stranger could be decades, possibly even centuries old. The Undying didn’t age, after all. He was well muscled, too, in the way that denoted muscles honed for combat instead of show. That explained the chains, at least.
Arlong didn’t have the benefit of the Sea’s healing to compliment the strength he inherited, and an opponent who could be healed by the constantly present sea-spray on the ship could become a nuisance indeed.
Sanji would have given just about anything to have seen the look on Arlong’s face when the sea-spray settled and he discovered that the victim in his grip was decidedly not dead. Then again, it was his own healing that now had him chained hand and foot to the helm of the Flying Dutchman.
Sanji blinked.
“Don’t they need the helm to steer?” He asked the other man, who snorted in response.
“For what?” He crossed his arms. “The storm’s too bad for it to do much good to getting to a specific destination, and it’s not like the Bastard has a schedule to keep. When he wants to steer, he’ll just knock us out.”
“Are you playing nicely with your new friend, Roronoa?” Arlong’s polluted purr preceded his arrival on the quarterdeck, giving Sanji just enough time to scramble into a defensive position before the oil-black eyes fell on him.
Roronoa didn’t even bother getting up, but he locked a disdainful sneer on his face.
“The only playing I’ll be doing,” he growled, “is seeing how many pieces I can chop your miserable bones into, you shitty little-“
There was a sharp crack as Arlong casually kicked the green-haired man, undoubtedly the sound of multiple bones breaking. Roronoa fell over with a silent grimace, straightening up as the tide splashed and mended him.
“Mind your manners, whelp.” The Bastard chided. “You ought to be grateful that I keep up on the deck instead of keelhauling you.”
“You’ve done that already. It didn’t work.” Roronoa snarled. “If I had my swords…”
“If you had your swords, you still wouldn’t be strong enough to beat me.” Arlong grinned, shark-sharp teeth grinning savagely. “Neither you, nor your little friend.”
Sanji bristled, baring his own teeth defiantly.
“Come over here and say that again.” He snapped. “I’ll make you eat your words with shoe leather.”
“If you two are so itching for a fight, have a go at each other.” The hungry, shark-like grin widened. “Give me and the boys a show.”
Roronoa cast a scornful scowl at the Bastard, and Sanji mirrored the expression.
“I’m not fighting a scrawny weakling like that for your amusement.” The green-haired man snorted.
"Who are you calling weak, marimo?” The cook growled. “I was holding my own against him just fine until your grassy head distracted me!”
“And yet you’re chained up here.”
“You were here first!”
One long leg lashed out, chains rattling ominously as they followed the thrust. Roronoa narrowly dodged, grabbing the chain and trying to yank his surprise opponent off-balance. Sanji threw his weight into the other man’s pull, bringing a blunt kneecap to meet the vulnerable solar plexus.
Zoro grunted on impact but kept the seamaster locked close to him to prevent him from getting the momentum for another kick.
“You’re playing into his hands.” He hissed. Sanji frowned but stepped back anyway.
“Don’t stop now; things are just getting interesting.” Arlong laughed.
“Go to hell.” The blond snapped.
“Ah, so that’s how it’s going to be.” The damned captain smirked. “Well, if you’re not going to provide any entertainment, I may as well drop in on my little siren and see if she’s healed up from the last time yet.”
There was a tremendous crack when Sanji lunged, though whether it came from his leg or the chain was debatable since another wave obscured visibility. When the mist settled, the slender cook had stretched three of his four chains to the limit. The fourth was snapped, its end wrapped firmly in Arlong’s massive hand and pulled taught.
“Tsk, tsk, boy.” The Bastard chided. “I took you down once, and I’ll do it again. If you want to do the siren a service, fight your Undying friend here. It should make for one hell of an exhibition.”
From Arlong’s lips, the word “Undying” was the blackest of curses, thick and viscous like oil and chum. It made Sanji’s stomach turn to hear it, for the word was never meant to be said by one so loathed by the Sea.
Finally the seamaster jerked his leg free, turning to the Undying man. The color of his visible eye was flat and gray, like the deceptively calm ocean before the wind picked up and revealed a typhoon. That was all the warning and apology Roronoa got before the seamaster attacked.
In raw strength, Roronoa was the stronger of the two. He was a warrior to the very last drop of his blood, and greatness and strength were his driving goals. Sanji was strong because the Sea was strong, and because Zeff had beaten almost equal parts combat and cooking into his skull. Fighting was not as much a part of his nature as it was that of Roronoa.
Yet the Undying was trained to fight with swords rather than bare hands, and it was this handicap that leveled the playing field between them.
What might have been a brutal, messy, but relatively quick match between two normal men instead dragged on for hours, wounds healing with every splash from the Sea. Bones broke, skin bruised, blood flowed, and all of it was wiped clean to begin anew. The Bastard eventually grew tired with the display and left the quarterdeck, and the two fighters collapsed in exhausted relief.
Time once again began to blur for the seamaster, since there was little distinction between day and night during the Dutchman’s eternal storm. Instead, the difference distilled into periods of fierce and furious combat and periods of resting to regain the strength to fight again. It could have been two weeks. It could have been two months. The sleek caravel belonging to Luffy and Usopp ruthlessly hunted the Flying Dutchman, but the Bastard’s corrupted sea-magic kept the man-of-war just out of range. It was some comfort to the seamaster that, even if his friends could not reach them, Arlong was effectively running scared.
Sanji learned many new things while lying prone on the deck, too beaten and bruised to move as he waited for the waves to wash his wounds away. He learned the reel of the Sea in her unending wrath. He learned the feel of the Flying Dutchman, her moaning timbers and sighing sails and brass bells that screamed over the din of thunder. He learned the footsteps of the Bastard, proud and heavy, and the way the wood groaned beneath his weight as if even his ship could not bear his presence. But most of all, he learned his sometimes companion, sometimes opponent.
The man’s name was Roronoa Zoro, surname first in the manner of the east, and he was a swordsman seeking to defeat the legendary Undying swordsman with the great black blade. Arlong captured Zoro a long time ago, first overtaking him while he slept and then finding a great source of amusement when the swordsman got back up after a supposedly mortal wound. Zoro’s precious swords were now at the bottom of the Sea, left to the sea’s change.
Sanji learned the sound of the swordsman’s heartbeat, steady and smooth like the ebb of the sun-soaked tide on a summer day. He learned the lines of the swordsman’s body, the curves of muscles coiled tense and pulled taut. He learned the swordsman’s fluid movements, striking with the force of air or empty palms instead of a blade, as surely as Zoro learned Sanji’s crushing kicks and vicious spins.
He learned the warmth of arms opened to him when the Dutchman crossed the invisible northern boundary and drifted into the arctic. Too cold to move and with the Sea throwing freezing droplets instead of salt spray, he could not rise to fight even when Arlong sought entertainment from the siren instead. Her screams brought tears to the seamaster’s eyes, but the ice would not heal his broken legs or shattered ribs, and the tears were frozen solid before they could reveal his secret.
Zoro took the frozen pearls and cast them onto the ice with his good arm before abandoning whatever reservation kept him still and wrapping himself around the skinny blond. He remained a soothing presence against the chill and strife, and Sanji found solace there until the Sea drove the ship south again.
It was not long after escaping the frozen nightmare of constant pain and guilt that things turned downright hellish. All of Arlong’s tricks were doing less and less to slow Luffy and Usopp’s ship, and the Bastard responded by taking his frustration out on Sanji and Zoro’s flesh. More often than not, the Undying and the seamaster would end up with more blood outside than within. The ordeal formed a bond between them, an unspoken solidarity and a connection through mutual suffering, as well as the competitive desire to tough it out longer than the other.
“I’ve had a remarkable idea for a new game.” One day the Bastard grinned, bared teeth like a barracuda. Sanji did not need to look at Zoro to know what kind of thoughts flickered foremost in his mind, nor did the swordsman need to see the cook to know the disdainful sneer on his face.
“Shark Shooting?” The blond offered nonchalantly
“Pin the Sword on the Shark?” The swordsman chimed in.
“More like Go Fish.” Arlong held up a harpoon bent to resemble a fishhook and, without waiting for a reaction from his captives, plunged the jagged spike into Zoro’s chest. Sanji struggled against his bonds as he watched the captain unbolt Zoro’s chains and attach them to the hook and a spare anchor. The swordsman gurgled frantically, red froth on his lips and crimson pouring from his chest even as Arlong lifted him, anchor and all, over the railing.
“You shitty guppy!” The seamaster snarled desperately, teeth bared and muscles burning from the strain. “When I get my hands on you, I’ll filet and fry you!” His threats were ignored, increasing in fury and venom with each one unheard.
“It’s been a hell of a ride, Roronoa.’ The Bastard purred, leaning in close so that only his captive could hear him. “You’ve taken everything I’ve dished out and still aren’t broken. Some people could interpret that as character, but I’ll tell you now it’s just plain stupidity. You see, even though you’ve taken the Gift of one of her best-loved children, my mother still prefers you to me. She even brought you a friend, after all. So I’m going to do you a favor and send you to be with her… forever. I’m looking forward to the look on that pretty blond boy’s face when I carve out his heart and eat it.”
That said, Arlong dropped Zoro into the water. Rage burned in the swordsman’s eyes, black yet bright like oil alight against the night sky as the Sea swallowed him whole. All that marked his passing were a few crimson tinged bubbles and the echo of a choked scream.
“He can’t drown.” The Bastard said amicably, a mildly thoughtful expression on his face as Sanji stared in stunned silence. “And the chest wound won’t kill him either. Maybe in ten or twenty years, we’ll sail by here again and fish him up; see if he’s gone mad yet or of something down there can actually kill the Undying.”
Sanji responded with a cold, cold stare; a look both dark and deadly. His mouth was open, but no sound came out. Rather, there was sound, but only in such a pitch that mortal men could not hear it.
Below the deck, the redheaded siren cringed at the sonic outburst. She had keen wit enough to recognize her mother tongue’s expression of grief and pain, as well as the immeasurable rage that permeated it. The delivery, however, could come only from something with the Sea in its blood. The siren did not know the seamaster well; he maintained the masquerade of humanity since he first arrived, slipping only when he and the real Undying were alone. She did, however, know the sound of his suffering, breaking his body over and over so that the Bastard would not think to avail himself of her charms for entertainment.
She cast her gaze down and tried not to think of what Arlong would do with the seamaster in his grasp.
Arlong turned, comprehension dawning across his predatory expression as he felt the vibration in the air and sea.
“You-“ He growled, and then the hungry grin was wiped from his face as the Going Merry launched a cannonball at the Dutchman. Luffy and Usopp’s caravel snuck up on the man-of-war while Arlong was skewering Zoro, and they took their advantage to heart The cannonball shattered the helm into a spray of wood splinters. It was as sure as shot as ever Usopp fired. The Dutchman’s crew scrambled, grabbing weapons in a disorganized fashion even as their captain descended to the main deck to beat them back into order as necessary.
Sanji shook his head and realized the chains holding him in place were no longer attached. With but a second’s hesitation to take a deep breath, he dove into the dark water after the swordsman. The shock of the cold almost forced the air from his lungs, and quickly he realized that the chains, though severed from the helm, were still quite weighty, and were dragging him down fast. Too fast for his human form to defend against the simultaneous blows of temperature, pressure, and lack of air.
His heart sank, and so did he.
To Be Concluded...
Author's Note: Chum, aside from being a term used for a companion, also refers to the bloody mess of innards used as bait for large, meat-eating sea creatures such as sharks. Imagine putting a couple dozen live fish into a giant blender and turning it on for about thirty seconds on low.
Once again, I beg and plead for responses, since that's how I keep track of how many people are reading.
... Warning: I post this now, only somewhat skimmed by a second person, because my normal beta was either sick or doing more important stuff with people in real life instead of ever being online when I could send this to her. I decided that if I continued to wait for her to be online, I might as well submit myself for keelhauling, because I'd never get the motivation to work on Chapter Seven, which should be the last chapter. Blame all continuity errors and typos on her!
For those of you who need a refresher:
Prologue
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Interlude
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Title: Deep Blue Sea (Chapter Six)
Fandom: One Piece (c) Eiichiro Oda
Rating: PG-15 for language, violence, and mature themes
Summary: AU Warning. Myths and legends are reborn, men and monsters are set on conflicting paths, and all for the love of the Sea.
Chapter Six:
The Sea wore mourning shrouds in the form of heavy gray fog, darkened greatly by the grim clouds overhead and thick with the oppressive feeling of loss. Usopp stared blankly into the mist, sparing not a whit of attention for the procession of cooks that “escorted” the unconscious Krieg off of the Baratie. Luffy, of course, beat the man soundly, but the victory was overshadowed by the loss of Sanji to Arlong and the Flying Dutchman. Those cooks that saw their blond companion trying valiantly to fight the Bastard had little doubt that they would not be seeing him again. Even Zeff seemed shaken; the former pirate’s face did not show it, but the thumping of his peg leg sounded a little more hollow and unsteady.
Usopp didn’t want to believe that Sanji was dead. Part of his mind always remembered the seamaster as immortal and powerful, triumphant over a hungry shark and having escaped the Bastard’s clutches once before. And yet he also remembered tears of pearl spilling across the deck of his ship, just as he remembered sharp white teeth and the oh-so-red blood of a seamaster that could not Change. And the Sea, well…
One did not have to understand her tongue to know how deeply she grieved.
“We’ll get them back.” Luffy said, confident and quiet with eyes dark like the midnight zone but somehow so much warmer.
“What?” Usopp looked at his captain curiously.
“I’ve made up my mind.” Luffy shrugged. “We’re all going to go to All Blue together and have adventures. You, me, Sanji, the siren, and that other one Arlong’s keeping.”
“How?”
“She told me so, Usopp.” The Beloved of the Sea smiled before turning and bellowing across the waves, “We’re coming for you! Sanji!”
The ocean carried the echo long after it faded from the air, whispering it with every crest and swell of the water.
We’re coming for you.
We’re coming.
For you.
Sanji.
Sanji breathed.
In the distance, the sea raged against her bastard son. Wind howled, thunder roared, and mountains of water towered over the damned ship before crashing down like the walls of a besieged fortress.
The lean blond figure stretched out on the darkened quarterdeck began to stir as seawater absorbed into his pale skin at an alarming rate. Traces of blood and ghastly incisions alike washed away beneath the tide, flushing his complexion with the blush of vitality. The slight glow was a stark contrast to the dismal scene of the ship itself, ever beset by rain and waves.
Sanji groaned softly as the saltwater whispered its precious promise, words carried long and far for him alone. His body ached all over, partly lingering pain from the punishing abuse of the fight with the Bastard and partly for glutting himself on the Sea’s power after years of abstinence. Beyond the pain laid exhaustion, heavy weights on his limbs that held him motionless as his body tried to regain its strength.
Wait a moment…
He moved one arm weakly and was rewarded by the rattle of chains.
The seamaster’s eyes flew open in a heartbeat has he bolted upright, promptly cracking heads with the green-haired man who was leaning over him at the time. The stranger swore, virulent and violent, vicious words rolling off his tongue in the speech of the Sea. The expletives had no equivalent in human terms because few mortals had the capacity and creativity to describe the hiss and stench of sulfur that pervaded underwater trenches or the choking nausea of oil in the water. Those that could were all poets, and poets only composed of the Sea’s beauty and power. That being said, it was clear by the other man’s inelegant phrasing that he was no poet.
“What the hell is wrong with you?” He snarled, holding his injured skull and peppering his demand with Sea speech curses.
Sanji took a moment to stare dumbly. He felt entitled to it, first for hearing the mythical language coming from a human’s mouth, and secondly for said human’s face to be familiar, and more importantly, unchanged in the ten years since last he saw it.
“You…you can speak Sea speech?” The seamaster gaped. “I know your face; you’re-!”
Suddenly a rough hand was slapped over his mouth, silencing the revealing thought. The other man’s eyes gleamed sharp and piercing like those of the ocean’s predators. Absently, the cook noticed that the other man’s hands were heavily chained, just like his own.
“Keep your damn mouth shut if you want to keep your innards from being outside.” He growled. “None of them have figured it out yet; they think you’re like me.”
“Undying.” Sanji breathed in his mother’s tongue as the man released him. It was a word as beautiful as the sunset-kissed waters of the horizon and as terrible as the tsunami that towered to challenge the mountains. The other man stiffened at it, casting his gaze about suspiciously for any of the Dutchman’s crew.
“Seamaster.” He tossed back at him, somehow turning it into a sneering insult. The two words, Sanji mused, were not dissimilar.
The other man lapsed into silence at that point, his piece apparently said and his interest in his new, however unwilling, companion spent. The blond cook took the opportunity to study the stranger who knew him well enough to see through the masquerade that fooled Arlong without knowing him at all.
He was a young man, no older in appearance than Sanji seemed to be, but as they were both immortal appearance held no relevance to true age. The stranger could be decades, possibly even centuries old. The Undying didn’t age, after all. He was well muscled, too, in the way that denoted muscles honed for combat instead of show. That explained the chains, at least.
Arlong didn’t have the benefit of the Sea’s healing to compliment the strength he inherited, and an opponent who could be healed by the constantly present sea-spray on the ship could become a nuisance indeed.
Sanji would have given just about anything to have seen the look on Arlong’s face when the sea-spray settled and he discovered that the victim in his grip was decidedly not dead. Then again, it was his own healing that now had him chained hand and foot to the helm of the Flying Dutchman.
Sanji blinked.
“Don’t they need the helm to steer?” He asked the other man, who snorted in response.
“For what?” He crossed his arms. “The storm’s too bad for it to do much good to getting to a specific destination, and it’s not like the Bastard has a schedule to keep. When he wants to steer, he’ll just knock us out.”
“Are you playing nicely with your new friend, Roronoa?” Arlong’s polluted purr preceded his arrival on the quarterdeck, giving Sanji just enough time to scramble into a defensive position before the oil-black eyes fell on him.
Roronoa didn’t even bother getting up, but he locked a disdainful sneer on his face.
“The only playing I’ll be doing,” he growled, “is seeing how many pieces I can chop your miserable bones into, you shitty little-“
There was a sharp crack as Arlong casually kicked the green-haired man, undoubtedly the sound of multiple bones breaking. Roronoa fell over with a silent grimace, straightening up as the tide splashed and mended him.
“Mind your manners, whelp.” The Bastard chided. “You ought to be grateful that I keep up on the deck instead of keelhauling you.”
“You’ve done that already. It didn’t work.” Roronoa snarled. “If I had my swords…”
“If you had your swords, you still wouldn’t be strong enough to beat me.” Arlong grinned, shark-sharp teeth grinning savagely. “Neither you, nor your little friend.”
Sanji bristled, baring his own teeth defiantly.
“Come over here and say that again.” He snapped. “I’ll make you eat your words with shoe leather.”
“If you two are so itching for a fight, have a go at each other.” The hungry, shark-like grin widened. “Give me and the boys a show.”
Roronoa cast a scornful scowl at the Bastard, and Sanji mirrored the expression.
“I’m not fighting a scrawny weakling like that for your amusement.” The green-haired man snorted.
"Who are you calling weak, marimo?” The cook growled. “I was holding my own against him just fine until your grassy head distracted me!”
“And yet you’re chained up here.”
“You were here first!”
One long leg lashed out, chains rattling ominously as they followed the thrust. Roronoa narrowly dodged, grabbing the chain and trying to yank his surprise opponent off-balance. Sanji threw his weight into the other man’s pull, bringing a blunt kneecap to meet the vulnerable solar plexus.
Zoro grunted on impact but kept the seamaster locked close to him to prevent him from getting the momentum for another kick.
“You’re playing into his hands.” He hissed. Sanji frowned but stepped back anyway.
“Don’t stop now; things are just getting interesting.” Arlong laughed.
“Go to hell.” The blond snapped.
“Ah, so that’s how it’s going to be.” The damned captain smirked. “Well, if you’re not going to provide any entertainment, I may as well drop in on my little siren and see if she’s healed up from the last time yet.”
There was a tremendous crack when Sanji lunged, though whether it came from his leg or the chain was debatable since another wave obscured visibility. When the mist settled, the slender cook had stretched three of his four chains to the limit. The fourth was snapped, its end wrapped firmly in Arlong’s massive hand and pulled taught.
“Tsk, tsk, boy.” The Bastard chided. “I took you down once, and I’ll do it again. If you want to do the siren a service, fight your Undying friend here. It should make for one hell of an exhibition.”
From Arlong’s lips, the word “Undying” was the blackest of curses, thick and viscous like oil and chum. It made Sanji’s stomach turn to hear it, for the word was never meant to be said by one so loathed by the Sea.
Finally the seamaster jerked his leg free, turning to the Undying man. The color of his visible eye was flat and gray, like the deceptively calm ocean before the wind picked up and revealed a typhoon. That was all the warning and apology Roronoa got before the seamaster attacked.
In raw strength, Roronoa was the stronger of the two. He was a warrior to the very last drop of his blood, and greatness and strength were his driving goals. Sanji was strong because the Sea was strong, and because Zeff had beaten almost equal parts combat and cooking into his skull. Fighting was not as much a part of his nature as it was that of Roronoa.
Yet the Undying was trained to fight with swords rather than bare hands, and it was this handicap that leveled the playing field between them.
What might have been a brutal, messy, but relatively quick match between two normal men instead dragged on for hours, wounds healing with every splash from the Sea. Bones broke, skin bruised, blood flowed, and all of it was wiped clean to begin anew. The Bastard eventually grew tired with the display and left the quarterdeck, and the two fighters collapsed in exhausted relief.
Time once again began to blur for the seamaster, since there was little distinction between day and night during the Dutchman’s eternal storm. Instead, the difference distilled into periods of fierce and furious combat and periods of resting to regain the strength to fight again. It could have been two weeks. It could have been two months. The sleek caravel belonging to Luffy and Usopp ruthlessly hunted the Flying Dutchman, but the Bastard’s corrupted sea-magic kept the man-of-war just out of range. It was some comfort to the seamaster that, even if his friends could not reach them, Arlong was effectively running scared.
Sanji learned many new things while lying prone on the deck, too beaten and bruised to move as he waited for the waves to wash his wounds away. He learned the reel of the Sea in her unending wrath. He learned the feel of the Flying Dutchman, her moaning timbers and sighing sails and brass bells that screamed over the din of thunder. He learned the footsteps of the Bastard, proud and heavy, and the way the wood groaned beneath his weight as if even his ship could not bear his presence. But most of all, he learned his sometimes companion, sometimes opponent.
The man’s name was Roronoa Zoro, surname first in the manner of the east, and he was a swordsman seeking to defeat the legendary Undying swordsman with the great black blade. Arlong captured Zoro a long time ago, first overtaking him while he slept and then finding a great source of amusement when the swordsman got back up after a supposedly mortal wound. Zoro’s precious swords were now at the bottom of the Sea, left to the sea’s change.
Sanji learned the sound of the swordsman’s heartbeat, steady and smooth like the ebb of the sun-soaked tide on a summer day. He learned the lines of the swordsman’s body, the curves of muscles coiled tense and pulled taut. He learned the swordsman’s fluid movements, striking with the force of air or empty palms instead of a blade, as surely as Zoro learned Sanji’s crushing kicks and vicious spins.
He learned the warmth of arms opened to him when the Dutchman crossed the invisible northern boundary and drifted into the arctic. Too cold to move and with the Sea throwing freezing droplets instead of salt spray, he could not rise to fight even when Arlong sought entertainment from the siren instead. Her screams brought tears to the seamaster’s eyes, but the ice would not heal his broken legs or shattered ribs, and the tears were frozen solid before they could reveal his secret.
Zoro took the frozen pearls and cast them onto the ice with his good arm before abandoning whatever reservation kept him still and wrapping himself around the skinny blond. He remained a soothing presence against the chill and strife, and Sanji found solace there until the Sea drove the ship south again.
It was not long after escaping the frozen nightmare of constant pain and guilt that things turned downright hellish. All of Arlong’s tricks were doing less and less to slow Luffy and Usopp’s ship, and the Bastard responded by taking his frustration out on Sanji and Zoro’s flesh. More often than not, the Undying and the seamaster would end up with more blood outside than within. The ordeal formed a bond between them, an unspoken solidarity and a connection through mutual suffering, as well as the competitive desire to tough it out longer than the other.
“I’ve had a remarkable idea for a new game.” One day the Bastard grinned, bared teeth like a barracuda. Sanji did not need to look at Zoro to know what kind of thoughts flickered foremost in his mind, nor did the swordsman need to see the cook to know the disdainful sneer on his face.
“Shark Shooting?” The blond offered nonchalantly
“Pin the Sword on the Shark?” The swordsman chimed in.
“More like Go Fish.” Arlong held up a harpoon bent to resemble a fishhook and, without waiting for a reaction from his captives, plunged the jagged spike into Zoro’s chest. Sanji struggled against his bonds as he watched the captain unbolt Zoro’s chains and attach them to the hook and a spare anchor. The swordsman gurgled frantically, red froth on his lips and crimson pouring from his chest even as Arlong lifted him, anchor and all, over the railing.
“You shitty guppy!” The seamaster snarled desperately, teeth bared and muscles burning from the strain. “When I get my hands on you, I’ll filet and fry you!” His threats were ignored, increasing in fury and venom with each one unheard.
“It’s been a hell of a ride, Roronoa.’ The Bastard purred, leaning in close so that only his captive could hear him. “You’ve taken everything I’ve dished out and still aren’t broken. Some people could interpret that as character, but I’ll tell you now it’s just plain stupidity. You see, even though you’ve taken the Gift of one of her best-loved children, my mother still prefers you to me. She even brought you a friend, after all. So I’m going to do you a favor and send you to be with her… forever. I’m looking forward to the look on that pretty blond boy’s face when I carve out his heart and eat it.”
That said, Arlong dropped Zoro into the water. Rage burned in the swordsman’s eyes, black yet bright like oil alight against the night sky as the Sea swallowed him whole. All that marked his passing were a few crimson tinged bubbles and the echo of a choked scream.
“He can’t drown.” The Bastard said amicably, a mildly thoughtful expression on his face as Sanji stared in stunned silence. “And the chest wound won’t kill him either. Maybe in ten or twenty years, we’ll sail by here again and fish him up; see if he’s gone mad yet or of something down there can actually kill the Undying.”
Sanji responded with a cold, cold stare; a look both dark and deadly. His mouth was open, but no sound came out. Rather, there was sound, but only in such a pitch that mortal men could not hear it.
Below the deck, the redheaded siren cringed at the sonic outburst. She had keen wit enough to recognize her mother tongue’s expression of grief and pain, as well as the immeasurable rage that permeated it. The delivery, however, could come only from something with the Sea in its blood. The siren did not know the seamaster well; he maintained the masquerade of humanity since he first arrived, slipping only when he and the real Undying were alone. She did, however, know the sound of his suffering, breaking his body over and over so that the Bastard would not think to avail himself of her charms for entertainment.
She cast her gaze down and tried not to think of what Arlong would do with the seamaster in his grasp.
Arlong turned, comprehension dawning across his predatory expression as he felt the vibration in the air and sea.
“You-“ He growled, and then the hungry grin was wiped from his face as the Going Merry launched a cannonball at the Dutchman. Luffy and Usopp’s caravel snuck up on the man-of-war while Arlong was skewering Zoro, and they took their advantage to heart The cannonball shattered the helm into a spray of wood splinters. It was as sure as shot as ever Usopp fired. The Dutchman’s crew scrambled, grabbing weapons in a disorganized fashion even as their captain descended to the main deck to beat them back into order as necessary.
Sanji shook his head and realized the chains holding him in place were no longer attached. With but a second’s hesitation to take a deep breath, he dove into the dark water after the swordsman. The shock of the cold almost forced the air from his lungs, and quickly he realized that the chains, though severed from the helm, were still quite weighty, and were dragging him down fast. Too fast for his human form to defend against the simultaneous blows of temperature, pressure, and lack of air.
His heart sank, and so did he.
To Be Concluded...
Author's Note: Chum, aside from being a term used for a companion, also refers to the bloody mess of innards used as bait for large, meat-eating sea creatures such as sharks. Imagine putting a couple dozen live fish into a giant blender and turning it on for about thirty seconds on low.
Once again, I beg and plead for responses, since that's how I keep track of how many people are reading.