Scribosaurus Recs! - One Piece
Infection by Erithil
Taking risks to fulfil a dream is something Zoro understands. But what should you do when you have to choose between a dream and risking life, especially if it is the life of one of your nakama? A Zoro & Sanji friendship fic.
Rec!view: There's probably some irony that Sanji's my favourite character and he spends most of this fic in a coma, but ... hot dayum, he and Zoro shine here in a not-slashy way that's still so powerful it leaps off the screen and crawls down your throat. Melancholy, sad, beautiful, hopeful, self-affirming, remorseful, compassionate - all these are words I would use to describe this fic. Both Zoro and Sanji, as well as the other crewmates of the Going Merry, are excellently drawn and the plot is deceptively simple. Sanji is injured in a fight, and his wound becomes infected to the point where his friends have to choose between amputation, saving his life at the cost of his dreams, and letting him die with his precious hands intact. That Zoro takes centre stage without completely stealing the limelight from Luffy, Nami and Usopp (Chopper has yet to join the crew at this point) is even better, because One Piece has always been an ensemble show. This is one of those fics that could so easily slip under the radar, but I’m so glad it didn’t because it really is gorgeous.
Excerpt:
“Why you shitty cook…!” Zoro aimed a punch at his head. But Sanji’s reflexes were oddly slow that night, having time only to bring up his hand instead of his leg to block the coming fist. They connected solidly.
It was just like one of the numerous fights they have each day, but Sanji jumped back upon impact, clutching his wrist with a grimace.
Zoro frowned but the cook was already throwing a kick his way. He dodged the blow and rushed forward, catching hold of Sanji by the arm. Before the blond could recover, he had loosened the cuff and pushed the sleeve back. “What’s this?”
Sanji snatched his hand back with a curse, the white bandage sporting dark stains of seeping blood around his wrist showed plainly in the moonlight. “Just a scratch, you idiot.”
“Scratches don’t hurt this much and they don’t bleed through the bandages.” He strode forward and grabbed his arm again, grinning tightly. “Trust me, I know wounds.”
“Yeah, you would, wouldn’t you.” Sanji sneered.
“And obviously you don’t know enough.” The bandages were damp with dishwater, and badly bound. Small wonder the wound was still bleeding.
“It’s kinda hard to do it with only one hand and teeth, okay?” He sniped back defensively. Then, he took a deep drag of his cigarette and blew the smoke out slowly as if defeated.
“Fine, go ahead and look.” He scowled, still managing to sound irate as he allowed Zoro to probe at the bandage. However, his thin shoulders sagged, seeming very tired all of a sudden. “It’s just a cut from that last run in with the marines.”
“But that’s almost two weeks ago.” It had been a small scuffle. His own injuries had long healed and he assumed everyone else’s had too.
“Are you saying I’m weak?” A hint of challenge and annoyance tinged his voice.
He shrugged and didn’t answer, instead concentrating on unraveling the bandage. The wound was coming clear now and he didn’t like the way it looked. He gave a low whistle once the wound was exposed. “No shit. This is bad.”
The gash was long and deep, darkly wet with blood, stretching across the forearm to end above the wrist. In the long weeks it had festered and was now swollen with infection. He imagined the times the cook spent washing dishes, soaked up to the elbows in soapy water, couldn’t have been good for the wound either.
The shape of the slash could still be vaguely seen, but mostly, it was a mass of ragged red flesh half-grown to form a scar before it was pulled apart and kept from healing properly by the constant use of the arm. The edges of the wound were puckered and had gone white from being kept damp for so long, contrasting vividly with the angry red of the surrounding skin. When the wind blew his way, Zoro swore he could even detect the faint stench of rot in the air.