AN: Well, here it is as promised. Now a few things to note about it. There is some Japanese dialogue in here for the first few chapters. It will get less and less, but since the beginning of the story is in Japan, there are a few little lines in there. starkblack has graciously done the translating for me, so TY to her for all her hard work. It shouldn't take away from the story, and even helps add some humor to it at times. I have not used the little expressions in there like -kun or -chan, or even put in the explatives or such except on rare occasion. The only one using Japanese really is Zoro anyway. Sanji and the others dont know any so that should help greatly. As Zoro spends more time in the US he'll get used to speaking English all the time and his occasional slip-ups will go away.
This story is intended to be crack, so yes, the characters are going to be slightly (and very much so at times) OOC. There will be stupid humor, and even some fight scenes, and hoepfully a little romance... but dont count on it. It'll probably be just smut. Oh, and I'll be updating every other friday for now. I want to stay 3-4 chapter ahead, and also i'm working on another fic as well that i intend to post on the alternate fridays. Sry. New one isn't yaoi, and probably not smut either. It's a deep drama. But when I do finish the last chapter of DK, I'll go ahead and start posting it every friday for you guys. I dont think it's gonna be too long, well not as long as Broken but possibly longer than Seminars. Who knows.
All I know is that i'm having a blast writing this story, so here it goes!
Welcome to Grand Line
The Damsel in Distress
Zoro sat in the back of the club, women hanging all over him, trying to have a conversation with one of his few friends. He was there to celebrate his last night as a foreigner, since he'd be moving back to the States tomorrow. His father had found him fighting in an underground competition and had decided that in order for him to get a safer education he would send him back to live with his grandfather, whom he hadn't seen in ten years. Surprisingly, Zoro was a very intelligent individual when he put for a slight amount of effort. He had an almost photographic memory, and could understand some of the more complex theories of physics. Unfortunately, for his father, the young man had no desire to apply this knowledge in any shape, form or fashion. He was always telling Zoro of the opportunities that could be opened to him if he only tried. The teen would scoff and tell his old man to take a look at his own life before he said anything else.
Frank Roronoa was a Navy test pilot stationed in Okinawa, Japan. His ex-wife had died a when Zoro was only 9 and the child he barely knew had come to live with him, moving from base to base. He had allowed his son to enroll in the local dojo when they moved there eight years ago. He learned that Zoro had been studying kendo before his mother died and thought it might help the boy adjust. Soon, Zoro was at the top of his class and even beating out much larger boys in the advanced section. It wasn't until he walked in on Zoro, getting sliced down the chest at that makeshift area in the heart of Yakuza territory that his father had thought anything bad could come of his training. The size his opponent's sword was enough to make Frank's blood to go cold. As soon as Zoro was released from the hospital, he made arrangements to send him back to his wife's father. The little old Japanese man had a small dojo near a reputable college and assured Frank that Zoro would continue his training, but he would not allow the young man to participate in illegal matches.
To help prevent unwanted attention, Zoro often hid his powerful godlike body under baggy shirts covered by oversized zip-up hoodies and cargo pants that only stayed up with the aide of a belt. Hideous black military issued BCG's (birth control glasses) masked most of his handsome facial features, especially his piercing almost black eyes. His father insisted that while he was under his roof, that he keep his hair cut short, but since he entered college, he had let it grow out just slightly to about two inches in length on top, but still short in the back. Not long enough to be considered unkempt, but definitely not military standards either. The only thing that would keep people from staring at his hair would be to dye it or shave his head anyway. A natural pigment flaw, passed down from father to son, had given him green hair, making it easy to pin his heritage and spot him in a crowd, as his friends so nicely pointed out.
Zoro's hair also tended to make him stand out for attention with the bullies until he hit his growth spurt in High School and grew to about 6 feet in height. Zoro's height and skill in the arena had earned him the reputation of someone not to be messed with. Women flocked to him, guys wanted to be him, and powerful men wanted him on their side. It was because of this that Zoro had learned to blend in with the walls and seemingly disappear in the middle of an open room. He hated the limelight. The only reason he fought was to test how much he had improved and find out where his weaknesses were. He had been nicknamed 'DK', or the Death King for his ability to take vicious hits and recover from any wound they caused.
Today Zoro was just trying to concentrate on enjoying his drink and keeping the women off of his more private areas. Yosaku couldn't help but laugh at his friend's predicament, knowing that Zoro had no interest whatsoever in the opposite gender. He would let the girls hang on him in public, just to keep the knowledge from his father, but Yosaku knew better, first hand. In fact, they probably should be leaving soon if they wanted to get in one last round before Zoro had to be home. Maybe they'd even be able to find Johnny and see if he wanted to join them. Yosaku could feel himself getting hard at the thought of being sandwiched between the two men.
"Oi, Zoro. Ju n bi de ki te i ru?" Yosaku dodged the empty glass thrown at him and chuckled at the glare sent his way by his friend.
"Hai, lets go." Zoro stood up and dusted the women off of him. Many of the other men eyed him in relief, knowing that after he left the women would be horny and looking for someone to take care of them. They had almost made it out the door when another towering figure approached.
"Ima zyukanakazo, Roronoa-san?" Roronoa, do you have a minute?
"Hai, dokusitano Mihawk-san?" Yes, Mihawk, what do you want? Zoro kept his body ready for action as he faced the person who had cost him his stay in the orient. If he hadn't been wounded so badly in their battle his father wouldn't have freaked and sent him away. He didn't even have a choice because he couldn't inherit his mother's money until he had a college degree, and he was damned if he was working for the Yakuza.
"I hope that you are not leaving because you have been defeated." Dracule Mihawk narrowed his eyes at Zoro.
"Fuck you Mihawk. I might have lost to you once, but I will never lose again." Zoro stood firm and waited for anything. He wasn't fully healed, but he refused to back down from a challenge. He needed time, but he would win against this current reigning champion.
"Ganbattene! Tsugi no shoubu o tanoshimi ni shiteiruyo." Train well, and one day we will meet again. You have great potential, and I look forward to our next match. With that, Dracule Mihawk bowed in respect and walked away.
Zoro relaxed and smiled a true smile of happiness, one that people would rarely see on his face. He grabbed Yosaku's shirt and pulled him in for a rough kiss before dragging the stunned guy to the car. Needless to say, Zoro barely walked into the door only an hour before he had to leave for the airport, hair a mess and his shirt inside out. His father never said a word about him breaking curfew, thinking that he had just had a roll with a cute Japanese girl before he had to leave the country. He would have done the same thing if he were in his son's place. Well, maybe not the same thing.
As they were standing there waiting for the boarding announcement, Frank took out an envelope and handed it to his son.
"Here's a little money to help you out when you get there." The pilot put a hand on the young man's shoulder. "Just keep your nose clean. If you screw this up, you'll never see a dime from your Mom's estate. We might not have gotten along, and I still want nothing to do with her money, but it's rightfully yours and I don't want to see you lose it. Just… stay out of trouble, son."
For the first time in many years, Zoro hugged his father. They might not have agreed on many things, but Frank was a man of honor and integrity, and that Zoro respected.
"Arigato, Chichi-ue." Zoro didn't have the heart to tell him no, even though he knew the man needed it more than him. Besides, Zoro actually had over two million yen due to him from fight winnings. All he had to do was walk back to the underground and get it. He knew he would never make it out of there with his free will still attached if he did though, so it lay unclaimed and waiting.
After two flight changes and several hours of waiting, Zoro arrived at the airport only to be greeted by a group of four children tackling him to the ground. They hugged him and clung to him like he was Santa himself. He was bombarded with questions ranging from 'Do you speak English?' to 'Why is your hair green?' and various other oddities. Extremely confused and just a bit embarrassed at the attention it was causing, he tried to pry the little monsters off of him so he could stand up. A highly amused voice drew his attention.
"So, Zoro-kun, you're just as short as I remember. And here I was hoping that maybe you had gained your father's height." A short old man, obviously Japanese, was standing before him in kaki shorts and a Hawaiian printed shirt. "You'll be quite welcome to stay with this group if it would make you feel better to be around those of you own size." His laughter was echoed by the children as they attacked him again and started in with more questions, asking if he was going to be their new sensei.
"Ite! Dame! Dame!" No! Stop! Stop! Zoro groaned out with just a hint of a pout. "Ko ga ra?" So I'm short now? He stood up and grinned down at his grandfather, who was now wide-eyed and obviously impressed.
"Hmmm, so you did grow finally. Ohayo, magomusuko."
"Ohayo, ojii-san. Onegaishimasu, dozo yoroshiku Zoro bowed to him out of respect during the formal greeting before his cocky grin surfaced. "So what's up with the Pokémon?"
"I could not get rid of them. When they found out you were coming today, they insisted on tagging along. I was completely overpowered." Ojii-san faked being in shock and the kids ran to him acting out their part by holding his arms and legs captive. "It might have to do with the fact that I told them you were going to be a new sensei at the dojo. You have to earn your keep somehow, and your father tells me that you have come a long way with your skills."
Zoro rubbed the back of his head awkwardly and looked down to the bright shiny faces of what would inevitably be his undoing. He always had been a sucker for kids, especially ones with the desire to learn. Sighing he answered the only question they needed to know.
"Hai, I'll teach them." Again, he was tackled, but managed to stay upright, groaning at the protesting pain in his chest and stomach from the still tender wound. "Careful, brats, I'm still recovering." The kids detached themselves and he lifted up his shirt to show the raw diagonal scar.
He shook his head and laughed as the questions began again, but this time he was able to start guiding them to the baggage claim so he could pick up his luggage. He only had two military issued duffle bags, a long black case containing his swords, and his messenger bag, which he carried with him. He handed his shoulder bag to his grandfather, threw a duffle over each shoulder, causing the small boys to gasp with awe at his strength. Zoro hung his head and chastised himself for bringing so much attention to him. He'd never keep a low profile if he continued like this. Almost two hours later, and several stories of his childhood horrors from his grandfather, he was able to pick up his swords from the separate baggage claim for weapons. They headed out to the old station wagon that his grandfather refused to get rid of even before Zoro had moved to live with his father. The kids all piled in the back as the old man handed his grandson the keys.
"Think you can drive on the right side of the road?" He winked at Zoro and wiggled his eyebrows.
"Che, get in." Zoro smiled, remembering how much he loved being around this man when he was younger.
Zoro's grandfather was the only father he had known before being sent to Frank, and he was the one to get Zoro started on swordsmanship. Zoro had his first lesson in kendo at the dojo where he would now be working. Zoro climbed behind the steering wheel and paused for a moment. Even if he never got his degree, he was beginning to live his dream; he was teaching at a dojo. The only thing missing was that it wasn't his own place, but his grandfather's. As soon as he had that degree, and the money, he would look into changing that. Zoro turned the key in the ignition and cringed, wondering if the car would even make it out of the parking lot. Surprisingly, it did and he was soon acquainted with his new bedroom at his grandfather's home.
Zoro took the rest of the summer to get into a good rhythm at the dojo. He began his class with the four students which quickly grew to twelve, with ages ranging from eight to twelve, the original four being the youngest. Class met every Tuesday night at 1600. Yuu, Zoro's grandfather, also had him stand in for any other classes where the instructor could not be present, and act as a personal trainer to a few of the young boys who were going to competition. Zoro made sure to do his own training alone. He had no desire to have his techniques known or to show off the gnarled scar on his upper body, as his sessions always had him drenched in sweat by the time he was done.
Zoro still managed to stay out of most people's sight and mind here as he did in public back in Japan. He kept his outside activities to a minimum and stayed in his baggy clothes when he wasn't in his instructor's uniform. His students gave him a hard time about his glasses, and constantly tried to take them off his face. He would just laugh at them and continue with his lesson for the day. A few of the mother's would smile at him flirtatiously in the beginning, but that was even dropping off now. Life was settling down… and Zoro was bored. He couldn't wait for school to start in a week. At least there he could begin to apply himself to getting his degree. He had tested out of several basic classes, and transferred many of his credits from the school back in Okinawa, so this year he would be entering as a second year student, and not a freshman.
He knew it didn't matter what his degree was in, as long as it was a four year one, but he could at least be interested in what he was doing. It would be best if he went for something that he could possibly use, so, he was signed up for: Introduction to Business Communication, Federal Income Tax Accounting, Microeconomics and Public Policy, Operations Management, Introduction to Probability and Statistics for Business. Granted not the flashiest of courses, but he was satisfied for this semester, knowing that a degree in Business Management would come in handy for running a dojo. The only thing he was missing was a bar. He really needed a drink, and his father made him turn in his Military ID before he left. Well he turned in the one that he was issued, but he had a friend that had made him up one saying he was an enlisted instead of a dependant. He wondered if there were any military friendly clubs around here, ones that would let you drink underage if you were serving your country. He'd have to go check that out tonight. It was Saturday after all.
Zoro slicked his hair back and pushed his glasses back up on his nose. He didn't need them for anything other than reading, and that wasn't even necessary, but he wore them anyway to help with the outcast look. Baggy jeans and a large football jersey from some team he had no knowledge of helped him blend in a bit with the crowd, but still masked his body. The ever-present hoodie was held loose in his grip as he presented his ID to the guy at the door of the club. It amazed him that he was ushered right in and the fool had even called him Sir. 'Just what rank did Hachi put on this thing anyway… Oh shit! I'm an officer? Fuck.' Zoro cursed his freakish friend for his blatant mistake and wished he caught it before hand. Only one more year and he wouldn't need fake IDs anymore. He reminded himself that he should never come here again after tonight.
It was a place called the All Blue, and it apparently catered to college students. All Zoro wanted was a good stiff drink and maybe some decent music to listen to. He could really use something else, but he wasn't going to push his luck. Making his way to the bar, he was pleased to find he would be getting at least most of what he wanted. The DJ played a selection of Alternative Rock that appealed to his state of mind and he was served a glass of stout black label whiskey, too. Things were defiantly starting off good tonight. Finding a seat at the lonely end of the bar, he began to survey the people.
Zoro got a text from Yuu asking when he'd be home, and he replied honestly. 'no idea. will call if need anything' and he left it at that. A few men walked up to the bar, ordering several drinks to take back to the table. At their center was a gorgeous blonde male with the most seductive mouth Zoro had ever seen on a person. His shoulders were nicely proportioned to his hips, and his ass looked like it would fit perfectly around Zoro's already hardening cock. His long legs would be perfect for wrapping around him as he plowed into him mercilessly. Too bad the blonde had gone back to his table and was already shoving his tongue down some girl's throat.
After six drinks and a few questionable women asking if he was up for a quick fuck, Zoro decided it was time to head home. Unfortunately, once he got back outside, he had no idea which direction his car was parked in. He began to walk, thinking that it would come to him soon. Thirty minutes later he was back outside the club and very aggravated. It had started drizzling so he put up the hood on his sweatshirt, trying to keep as dry as possible. Another turn and he saw his grandfather's wagon parked a few cars down. He had just reached the car when he heard the yell. Ignoring it at first, he opened the driver's door and sat down. The voice was louder this time and quite panicked.
"Fucker, get your hands off me. Shit, HELP!"
Sighing, Zoro got back out of the car and opened the rear door of the wagon. He uncovered his sword case and brought out the black one instead of his favored white, knowing that the rain would not be good for it at all. Kicking the door shut, he headed in the direction he had heard the plea, making sure his hood was secure and he had no distinguishing logos anywhere before breaking into a run. There in the alley was his blonde, the gorgeous man from the club, and around him were three men, all of them bloodied and bruised. It looked like the blonde could fight at least some, so that was good, but he was out numbered and definitely overpowered.
Those guys were huge. Knowing that he could bring shame upon his family if he committed murder, Zoro turned his sword blunt side forward and attacked.
The blonde braced himself as he saw a dark figure wielding a sword running towards them in the rain. His attackers threw him to the side and pulled out large knives and picked up pipes to fend off the vigilante. The first strike of the sword caught the largest man with a knife across the chest, effectively knocking the wind out of him and bringing him at least temporarily to his knees. The second and third ones came after the dark figure at once from opposite sides. The swordsman blocked the first swing with his sword and caught the second pipe with his bare hand. He yanked the pipe from the attacker's hands and used it to effectively knock him out with a single hit to the side of his face. The remaining man had a bit more sense and apparently a bit of sword training, as he circled Zoro wearily. Zoro locked weapons and moved in time with the man while he tried to evaluate if the blonde was critically injured or not.
The first man regained his breath and stood to rejoin the fight. Zoro watched his movements from the corner of his eye and braced for his attack. These men were amateurs compared to him and it would be easy to dispatch of them quickly, and as long as they couldn't see his face, he was safe from his grandfather's wrath. He broke from the pipe wielder and slashed at the man with the knife, knocking the silly looking piece of metal from his hands. Zoro brought his fist into the poor sap's face and knocked him out cold. He turned back around just in time to block another swing of the pipe. The guy began swinging furiously and cussing at Zoro, leaving himself wide open for an attack. Zoro brought his sword in a hard upwards swing and the force of the blow reverberated down the pipe causing the user to lose his grip and let the pipe fly up into the air, landing several feet behind him.
Quickly, Zoro carved a simple kanji into the front of the man's leather jacket. The swordsman smirked, thinking he had just thought of the best way to mark the man, and yet no one could trace it back to him. He chuckled low, watching the guy run off, probably pissing himself the entire way. The blonde started to stand behind him, coughing and shivering from the cold of the rain. Zoro caught him just as he passed out, and held him close to his body. Just what the hell was he supposed to do now? First thing first, he had to get this man warm.
Zoro carried him to the car and laid him in the back as gently as possible. His hands itched to explore as he ran his hands over the man's pants, looking for any identification. Zoro pulled out a set of keys and a wallet, and found the blonde's drivers license.
"Ah, Sanji-kun desuka… Hajimemashite." Ah, Sanji is it? It's nice to meet you.
He took the spare blanket, kept in there for emergencies, and tucked it around the shaking blonde. When he closed the door, he stood in the rain yelling at himself for a minute before climbing into the driver's seat and inputting the address on the license into the Garmin GPS his father had bought for him before he left. Zoro would never admit needing it, but he used it constantly.
Twenty minutes later, he found himself in front of a small apartment building and began to panic. How would he get him in there unnoticed? Realizing the late hour, he thought it might just be possible to sneak in and use the stairwell to get him to his room without much of a problem. If not, he could always leave him wrapped in the blanket in one of the halls for someone else to find. Fortunately, the rain had continued, giving him a little cover as he picked up Sanji out of the back of the car and ran for the doors.
It took a few minutes of fumbling with the keys to find the one that would open the door. Zoro tried to bury Sanji's face in his chest to shield him from the rain. Feeling the lithe body pressed against his own was driving him wild with need. He usually had Yosaku or Johnny to fall back on during times like this, but now they were halfway around the world and he was shit out of luck. The door swung in and Zoro carried the blonde to the stairs and up to the second floor, apartment 23. Remembering the shape of the key that gained them access to the building, Zoro searched for the one that might open the stubborn door in front of him. A blue key with a dolphin on it caught his eye, and with a triumphant smirk he opened the door and carried the unconscious man inside.
Zoro was surprised at how nice and clean the place was; it was classy and welcoming. He could see a bed through an open door towards the back of the small apartment and made his way towards it. He needed to get Sanji out of his wet clothes and into a warm bed, alone. Even as horny as he was, he couldn't take advantage of someone like this. Besides, the blonde was far too into women to be a willing participant in any case.
Zoro braced Sanji against him and began pealing away the layers of wet blanket and clothing. He let his fingers ghost across bare skin as each inch was revealed. He took in a deep breath as he reached for the zipper of Sanji's pants. Zoro gulped hard and tried to ignore the rod of steel he was currently packing in his shorts. When the pants and boxers were down to his knees, Zoro laid Sanji back on the bed, and drank in the sight of his nude body as he pulled the shoes off so he could finish removing the wet garments.
Sanji was beautiful. His skin pale and without scars; his chest and stomach, firm but not overly defined; his legs long and well sculpted. Zoro reached out and pushed the wet blonde hair out of the way so he could look at Sanji's features clearly. Strangely curled eyebrows were set above eyes that would be cerulean blue when they opened. Zoro's hand traced the strong jaw line avoiding the bruised cheek, and ran his thumb across the busted bottom lip, remembering how he had stared at it in the club. Shaking his head he covered up the gorgeous body spread out before him and proceeded to hang up the wet clothes to dry in the bathroom. He folded up his blanket and set it by the door, looking in on the sleeping blonde one more time before leaving. He brushed Sanji's forehead with the back of his hand, checking for a fever. Finding none, he placed a light kiss on Sanji's battered lips.
"Shitsure shimasu, Sanji…"
Zoro picked up his blanket and left the keys and wallet on the table by the door. As an afterthought, he grabbed the notepad next to the phone and wrote a short message.
Pretty girls should have escorts
when walking down dark alleys
He signed it with the same kanji etched into the attacker's jacket. It wouldn't matter anyway, he'd never see the guy again. They hung out with different crowds and probably had nothing in common. Besides, he was starting at Grand Line University in a week and he wouldn't have time for any outside interests. He had to finish that degree and fulfill his dream.
Sanji's eyes fluttered open in the bright sunlight streaming in from his bedroom window. He reached up to rub the sleep from his eyes and winced at the tenderness of his left cheek. Memories of the previous night came back in a crushing wave and he jumped up out of bed to search for his savior. When the cold air touched his skin he stopped and looked down at his naked form. Whoever it was, they had divested him of all his clothing. Hopefully they were still here so he could kick their head in for it. No one was allowed to undress him without his permission.
Sanji picked up a pair of clean shorts off his dresser and slipped them on before searching out his apartment for the elusive person who saved him from those thugs in the alley. A few minutes later he confirmed that he was alone and the only evidence that he could find that someone else had been there were the muddy footprints. They came from the front door to the bedroom, then to the bath to apparently hang up the wet clothes, then to the front door and back to the bedroom before leaving. Sanji was thankful that he had hardwood floors everywhere except in the bedroom. He'd have to get something to get the mud out of his blue carpet.
If he only knew what the mystery man looked like, he could find out his name and go thank him before kicking his ass, or screwing him, depending on how cute he was. The thought of it being a tall dark and handsome knight in shining armor put a smile on the blonde's face. He might be a man, but that didn't stop him from being a helpless romantic sometimes. Besides, he liked a set of broad shoulders and a six pack just as much as he liked a tiny waist and bit tits. It was no hidden fact that Sanji Black swung both ways. He was sought out by both men and women constantly, but only a select few had ever graced his bed. Some came after him for his culinary skills, some for his body, but everyone left wanting more. Sanji was a full time bachelor, only taking a lover when he needed it, and never keeping one long enough to consider them a relationship. He was still waiting for 'The One.'
Looking around, he noticed his wallet and keys where he normally put them. Could this person who rescued him be someone he already knew? Sanji walked over and picked the wallet, checking to see that all contents remained intact. He still had his credit cards, his condom, his pictures and even his money. Well whoever it was, they were honest, that was good. He replaced the wallet on the table and noticed the words written on his favorite notepad.
"I'll fucking kill him," Sanji mumbled under his breath.
His fingers traced the lines at the end of the message, wondering their significance. To him it just looked like three horizontal lines, nothing special. So was this like a calling card or something, a weird way to tally his opponents, who knows? Well, he did save his life, so maybe he was a phantom hero or something. Hmmm, this would make a great story for the college paper. Unknown man saves top reporter from three assailants Or even better: Dark Knight rescues Local JournalistThat would make the perfect headline for next edition.
Sanji worked part time for the Grand Line Grit where he was best known for getting the stories that hit the heart of the students. Most called him a helpless romantic, others called him an idealistic moron and even more found him purely entertaining. Sanji's writing made him even more popular than his renowned cooking skills, but only because college students couldn't afford to eat at the place he worked.
With the events fresh in his mind, Sanji sat down at his laptop and started typing. He needed to hurry if he wanted to get this in for the Monday printing. Soon, everyone would know of his mysterious savior, and maybe Sanji could even get a clue as to who his Dark Knight might really be.