"Zoro-sensei, Malcolm told me I'm weak!"

"Of course you're weak, you're a girl!"

"So what? You lost because your arms are growing from your ass, it doesn't matter if I'm a girl or not!"

Zoro sighed at the two noisy kids, lowering his wooden sword and squatting down onto the mat. He had a hard time sleeping the night before, and the students' annoying babbling wasn't doing anything good for the numb throb in his head.

"Jill, go to the locker-room, your dad will pick you up soon," he uttered to the red haired little girl who'd just stuck her tongue out to mock the boy.

"This idiot didn't apologize to me!" she whined, pouting at her teacher.

Rolling his eyes ever so slightly, Zoro grabbed the boy's arm and pushed him a bit closer.

"I'll talk to him, don't worry. Go, go." He nodded his head in the direction of the lockers, and the girl obeyed reluctantly.

The boy stood with confident expression, glaring sullenly at Zoro.

"You know," the swordsman said quietly, "gender doesn't matter in swordsmanship."

"But it matters," Malcolm disagreed. "Women are weaker than men."

"It's questionable." Zoro shrugged, remembering how he'd had an arm-wrestling match with Nami once. Even though he had won, his wrist hurt quite badly for a nice couple of days.

"Then why are you our coach, and not Miss Tashigi?" The boy folded his little arms on his chest.

"Because I'm cooler," Zoro smirked.

"That's because you're a man," Malcolm rolled his eyes as if he was a teacher and Zoro was his oblivious student.

"No, not at all." The green haired man patted his shoulder. "Once I knew a girl who'd been way cooler than me."

"Really?" The boy raised his brow mistrustfully.

"Yeah. No matter how hard I tried, she would always beat me." The swordsman smiled a bit ruefully. "So, if Jill is better than you now, you should just keep training to become better."

"That's stupid," Malcolm splashed his hands dramatically.

"But you wanna be cool?"

"Of course!"

"Then train hard to beat her." Zoro stood up, hearing a distant creak of the front door. "Seems your parents are here to pick you up."

"Goodbye, Zoro-sensei," the kid threw and waved his hand slightly.

"Bye. Don't forget to apologize to Jill."

The boy gave a prolonged whine and ran off from the training hall.

Having got rid of the noisy students, Zoro stretched his limbs, feeling a pleasant crunch in his back. But yet, being alone in the dojo reminded him about the problem that was drilling a hole in his chest and the back of his head.

Yesterday, after failing his attempt to talk to the cook, Zoro took care of picking a dozen of beers in a convenience store and returned home. However, with each new bottle he felt more and more, as much as he hated to admit, sullen and broken.

Sanji was positive about moving out. Usopp's place could be no more than just his temporary dwelling, but if the cook was already searching for a new apartment, he was by all means serious. Zoro was gritting his teeth painfully, gripping on his hair in frustration that there was nothing he could do to fix his stupid mistake. Trying to assure Sanji that Zoro needed him like air, like water, like sunshine on his skin would be absolutely pointless, not to mention egoistic – and that was apparently the original reason of why the blond had left him. Zoro really wanted Sanji to be happy, and forcing the cook into something seemed so terrible that the swordsman could only gnaw at his lips and fingers, drowning in self-loathing.

He wanted Sanji back so badly, but at the same time making the cook talk to him against his will and humiliating himself to gain forgiveness he wouldn't be given anyway was disgusting. A realist as he was, the green haired man couldn't believe he suddenly wanted some wizardry to make Sanji change his mind. Dipping his nails onto his scalp, he hoped everything would magically return to how it had always been: sleeping together, legs intertwined closely, hands clasped in a loose hold, waking up in pleasant laziness, lips brushing over the warm skin, stroking one another's hair with silly, drowsy grins. He would gladly sell his miserable soul just for a chance to hear the cook's merry humming in their kitchen, while Zoro himself would just sit and watch his silhouette highlighted by golden rays of the Sunday's friendly sun.

He'd lost bottle count when his phone suddenly vibrated, his gut flipping so hard he thought he'd throw up from flurry.

"Yes," he husked into the receiver without looking at the screen.

"Where the hell is that shitty eggplant?"

A discontent roar of the well-known old man hit him like a brick into the face. Feeling the nauseatic flopping only increasing, Zoro gritted his teeth and wheezed:

"I have no idea."

"What does that mean, you have no idea? Why did he turn his phone off, pass him yours!"

"I can't," Zoro curled his fingers into a fist, punching his knee unconsciously.

"He's stuck in the shower for hours again, that princess?" the old man snorted.

"No. He's not here."

An exasperated sigh from the other end only made Zoro angrier. The punches he'd been giving to his knee became disturbingly sensitive.

"What the hell is going on?" Zeff asked a bit quieter.

"He's moving out. I don't know much more than you do," the swordsman uttered and hung up, ignoring the old man's stuttered noises.

The blond – that easy-going talker – had never turned his phone off normally. Zoro had called him a couple of hours ago, so it was unlikely that the phone just went off charge. Trying to assure himself that everything was fine – that asshole had just dropped it into a sink or something – Zoro was failing miserably. Several beers later he found himself punching his forehead and his legs in helpless distress.

What if Sanji was kidnapped? Or got hit by a car? Or–

Snapping his phone open, Zoro quickly clicked Usopp's number.

"Yes," this time the voice wasn't sleepy at all.

"Usopp, has he returned?"

"No," the long-nose replied, seemingly no less worried. "I tried to call him, but he's out of range."

"His old man called me not long ago."

"Zeff?" Usopp sounded slightly surprised. Every one of their friends was aware that Sanji was in a tough relationship with his adoptive father. "Jesus, what if something happened?"

"It's better not," Zoro hissed through clenched teeth. "I'll kill him if he dies."

"What?! Zoro, don't say such things!" the long-nose shrieked.

"I mean... Damn it." The green haired man grabbed an empty bottle, twisting it in his hand.

"Zoro, don't worry," Usopp said softer.

"The hell I'd be worried about him."

A tired but gleeful laughter from the receiver made Zoro flinch.

"Guys, you're both so..." Usopp managed through the laughter. "Anyway. I'll message you when he returns, okay?"

"Okay," Zoro rubbed his nose, suddenly feeling fatigue overflowing his aching body. "Thank you, Usopp," he added quieter.

"Oh, no problem," the guy told him cheerfully. "Everything will be alright," he assured before hanging up.

His body beaten and eyelids heavy, Zoro changed his hoodie to Sanji's white t-shirt. Being worn by Zoro for a couple of days, it lost the smell of his cook. Sighing regretfully, Zoro dropped himself onto the bed, face into the pillow. Despite his exhaustion, slumber wasn't in a hurry to own him, and he shifted nervously on cold bed sheets.

Being caught by a drifting darkness but yet still conscious, Zoro heard his phone vibrating noisily on the nightstand. He jumped up eagerly, not able to wait to read the message.

"Sanji has returned. He looks tired but fine. Goodnight."

The cook being safe was good news for Zoro. However, only a fraction of his tension dissipated. Drowning in muted regrets, self-hatred and viscid anguish, he was swallowed by restless sleep only in the early morning.

Having slept just a couple of hours gained him dark bags below his eyes as well as dull ache in his muscles. Zoro hated to be lame at work, but he also couldn't catch up with overly energetic kids.

Sitting cross-legged on the mat, he closed his eyes. Steadying his breath, he let the peace flow in his blood, relaxing his every cell. His chest raising and fading slowly, he welcomed a quiet image to the insides of his eyelids.

Perfect calm made the ocean look like a mirror. The mild sun warmed the white sand. The clouds, untouched like on a painting, were frozen on the blue canvas. The water, an embodiment of calmness, had a tendency of changing its state under the riot of its eternal companion – the storm. Wind started abruptly, the air driving everything mad on its way, wild, passionate with rage. The power of destruction it possessed affected the waters, turning them impetuous in their ardent dance.

The blond grinned at him from above, adjusting his hips and gripping into Zoro's hair. His small leg hairs tickled the swordsman's jaw, the hotness of his flesh on Zoro's lips pulsing, demanding to enter. Parting his lips, Zoro licked the head, raising his eyes to Sanji's face – flushed, driving him mad, perfect sexual expression burned the blond's features. Sanji kept biting his lower lip, blocking the sound Zoro was waiting for. Impatient, Zoro slipped his hand in between those powerful thighs and gripped Sanji's tense buttock, guiding him forward, closer, tighter.

He didn't need to be told twice, that greedy cook. Clenching Zoro's hair in his firm fist harder, the blond slipped his length half-way into the man's mouth. Zoro's tongue slid up the cock in his mouth when it hit the roof. Sanji's lips parted, writhed slightly by a groan he couldn't keep hidden this time. Smirking around the hot flesh, Zoro brought his head up, desperate to extract more of these sounds. Sucking harder and faster, he shifted his hand on Sanji's buttock, touching his entrance just with a fingertip.

Tracing the perfect curve of Sanji's hip with the fingers of his free hand, he dipped his finger inside, the pulsing flesh encircling him tightly. The grip on Zoro's hair became less confident, erratic fingers loosened, yet still holding him demandingly. Firm and tough, the cock in his mouth quivered, followed by a whispered curse from the blond's trembling lips.

"Stop moving," Sanji muttered, his voice so rich and deep that Zoro's own cock twitched in anticipation.

Guessing what the blond wanted, Zoro ceased. His finger still rubbed lightly inside Sanji, his tongue teasing the cook with occasional licks. Gasping at steady pleasure, Sanji rolled his hips towards Zoro's mouth, and the swordsman felt an overwhelming wildness when the blond's cock filled his mouth fully, right to the throat. Withdrawing half of his length, Sanji bucked back, letting Zoro's finger slide deeper inside.

Clenching his hand hard on the blond's hip, his nails dipping into the pale skin, Zoro pulled his finger out and pushed it back in roughly. He heard Sanji's panting, heard his teeth gritting and saw his eyelids snapping shut. He saw his eyeballs rolling under his eyelids when Zoro played his tongue over the head in his mouth, thrusting his finger faster and faster with each ravenous suck.

"Zoro," Sanji groaned, his hand shifting from the swordsman's hair to his cheekbone.

Cupping the blond's balls with his palm, he added another finger inside, receiving a long moan. Thrusting his slick cock into Zoro's mouth, Sanji cursed under his breath. As his pace increased, Zoro felt the blond's thighs trembling. Clasping his lips firmer, he sucked on the pulsing length faster, harder, watching his lover's tense face. He could imagine how arousing it was for Sanji to watch his own cock disappear behind Zoro's lips, how blissful was the pressure in his–

"Zoro!"

Holy shit. Throwing his eyes open, the swordsman suddenly realized he was having an enormous boner in his pants. In the dojo. What could be less appropriate for a kendo coach if not fantasizing about being throat-fucked under a disguise of meditation?

He glanced at the doorway abruptly – abruptly enough to look suspicious – where the dojo's secretary was shouldering the doorjamb with the most indignant expression on her bespectacled face. Zoro swallowed thickly, hoping only that she hadn't noticed anything discreditable in his demeanor.

"What did you say to that kid?" she frowned, approaching.

"What kid," Zoro raised an eyebrow obliviously.

The girl squatted down in front of him, rolling her big brown eyes and clasping her fingers on her shin.

"I had been questioning your competence as a teacher since forever," she narrowed her eyes at him. "He told me that," she cleared her throat and spoke higher, imitating a child's voice, "'Zoro-sensei said he's cooler than you!'"

Zoro chuckled, amused. Resting his hands on his knees (totally not attempting to conceal his weakening but still noticeable hardness), he grinned toothily.

"That's true, I am cooler than you."

"Anyway," she shifted her big red glasses on her upturned nose. "I didn't come here to listen to your boasting."

"What's it?" he raised a brow, surprised just slightly. Tashigi had never tried to strike a conversation with him if she wasn't told to do so by Koshiro, and it had always been only about business.

Probably noticing his interest, Tashigi smirked, raising her index finger with obvious smugness.

"Say 'please', and I'll tell you," she grinned victoriously, watching as Zoro's face twitched in pain that was almost physical.

"Spit it out," he snapped, folding his arms on his chest.

She shook her dark-haired head in disagreement.

"Please," Zoro hissed through clenched teeth, feeling uneasiness unfolding in his stomach.

Satisfied, Tashigi chuckled somewhat evilly.

"Good. Now listen quietly and carefully, cool swordsman. It's very important."


Zoro ran across the parking lot under the heavy rain. The weather in early March was usually more merciful, but this year the sky was showering the town frigidly.

Snapping the front door wide open, Zoro flew right to the bedroom. Some clothing was shoved into a sport bag recklessly, hurriedly. He moved to the bathroom where he picked all the needed supplies: a razor, a toothbrush, for a moment he pondered if he needed a towel but decided to leave it – he would probably be given one.

In the hall, his feet half in his boots, he suddenly realized he forgot one thing. Hitting himself on the forehead, Zoro returned to the bedroom, picked a large case from under the wardrobe and ran off the apartment, messily locking it and then heading to the parking lot, where Tashigi was waiting for him in her car.