Uhhh so this is the first time I've used Fanfiction...

So I'm slightly confused about how to use it...


ZoSan it is. Nothing explicit, I guess

And side note:

- The appearances of the characters will vary. As in some may be pre-timeskip, some after

- Italics used for flashbacks

^In case it's confusing, ehehe

There will be more chapters. Can't say if they will be updated regularly;;

Please do feel free to leave a comment, I'm not professional after all and would like to know how to improve my writing style~

His palms pressed against the cold, cobbled ground and pushed his body forwards. Dirt and gravel dug under his gnarled nails, sharp grits embedding themselves into the calloused skin as he crawled across the slippery land. Droplets of water pricked his scathed skin and head like needles of ice; running down his face, mixing with the salty tears. Teeth gritted, he reached out to feel for safety. Burning, burning; eyes and chest burning, haggard breaths escaping his throat as he forced himself ahead once again sightlessly.

"Where... where am... I?"

Only darkness was around him. He was lost, he had nothing, he had no energy left. Dragging himself further from the sound of crashing waves for the last time, he choked and hissed in pain, laying his head down on the rutted surface under his cold, breathless body. He was here to live, yet he was already at the edge of death's gate.

"My eyes... eye...s..."

Mind clouding over, he listened to the heavy, unstable pounding in his chest, the rough gasps squeezed out his throat. He was finally away from hell, but he knew he'd soon be brought back.

"Hey... hey, you're hurt..." A soft voice called through the pattering rain. Turning his head with the last of his energy, trying to see the source, a scalding hot tear trickled heavily out the corner of an agonising eye as he tried to pry them open. Still, everything was pitch-black.

He sighed. The clacking of footsteps rapidly grew louder, and faded away as he let himself fall in to the depths of the darkness.

"Aww, come on Nami-swan~ Come tonight! I'm head chef. You wouldn't want to miss my cooking~"

"I said, for the fourth time, I can't! I'll come tomorrow night, OK Sanji?"

The blonde chef was swatted away by the girl he walked alongside, taking a perverted peep down her shirt as he straightened up. She huffed as she sauntered briskly along the road, trying to lose her lecherous friend. Nami was a popular student at her college; constantly being hunted down by men who were after her voluptuous body and playful grin. She'd go out with them for a week or so, then ditched them after turning them broke. But she just couldn't shake this leech, or rather her pervert of a friend, called Sanji off her ever since she met him a few years ago through their mutual friend Luffy.

Sanji Black wasn't infatuated with just her, Nami had noticed. He would turn his undying attention to any woman with an ample bosom and average face that crossed his line of vision. In contrast to this, he was unexpectedly an extremely gifted chef that worked night shifts at one of the top restaurants in their water-front city - the Baratie. If five Michelin Stars weren't enough, they had celebrities all around the world repeatedly returning just for the simplest dinner.

Flicking her coppery hair, Nami yelled at the chef to hurry in exasperation. He jogged up to her, grinning goofily as he fluttered his lashes, sea-blue eyes sparkling in joy from just hearing her call his name. "What a masochist..." Nami snorted as they neared the hospital.

It wasn't surprising for the man to be willing to work to help the less fortunate. Despite how he usually acted, he was dedicated, refusing to let anyone go hungry, making sure nothing was wasted. Kind. Generous. Just what was needed for a volunteer worker. He'd heard from his Nami-swan that the hospital for disabled where her friend worked was looking for a part-time chef to help with making morning and afternoon meals for their patients, and couldn't say no. Not to mention he would be able to see Nami more often.

The automatic glass doors slid nearly soundlessly as they stepped in. "Robin!" Nami squealed, running ahead with the brightest look Sanji had ever seen in her presence plastered on her face. Surprised, he looked up to see who Robin- His jaw slacked, eyes bulging. Standing before him with an excited Nami, was a stunningly beautiful angel. Tall and slender, she wore a pristine, white doctors' coat that draped over her curves, the smooth of her back. He watched enticed as she leant over to hug Nami, elegantly tucking strands of lustrous black hair behind a pale ear as she did so.

"Sanji, this is Robin, she's the psychologist here-" She was cut off as her friend shot past her in a blur of golden blonde locks and his azure suit shirt.

"Oh Robin-chwan~! To be in the company of a goddess as radiant as you, it is truly a pleasure!" He fell to a knee, gently taking and kissing a hand of the woman that stared down at him with an unreadable expression. Nami rolled her eyes and raised an arched brow helplessly at Robin as the man rambled on. What could she say, anyways?

"Ahem. Yes. Welcome to the Thousand Sunny Hospital, Sanji," Robin slipped her hand out of his grasp, smiling politely. "I assume you are the one that Nami tells me is interested in our job offer to cater for breakfast and lunch?"

"That's right, my dearest Robin! Please, do take care of me. I will not fail to satisfy the needs of the patients!"

"Wonderful. The Chairman has already accepted, so we'll start right away. I shall take you to the kitchen to meet the head chef then. Nami, would you like to come along?"

Shaking her head, Nami laughed cheerfully. "I'm going to go see our angry little friend. I'll see you in your office. Good luck, Sanji!" She turned and headed to the lift, waving to a girl in a wheelchair as she strolled by.

"Nami-swan is so admirable," the cook crooned, watching the red-head as they headed in the opposite direction. "If only she'd accept my love!"

Robin's forehead creased as she glanced at the chef in slight worry. Clearly he was a womaniser. Hopefully he wouldn't get distracted from his job.

"Sanji, meet our head chef Terracotta."

Pulling the trolley piled high with lunch boxes to a halt, Sanji knocked on a door. "Excuse me, lunch has arrived!" He sang, picking up a styrofoam box with the room number scrawled on top - 211. "I'm the new chef, Sanji. Hope you don't mind my intrusion!"

Unlike what he'd expected, a few of the chefs (now including him) were given the job to help deliver meals. Assigned to the first two floors, Sanji had made a ruckus out of having to do "manual labour, and I'm new too!", but was threatened to do the next two floors to go with it. Nevertheless, he made sure he did his job properly as each patient had a specifically assigned meal to suit their circumstances.

Sighing, he made his way to the last ward on the floor, right next to Robin's office. He beamed at the thought of seeing the gorgeous lady again, a drop of blood sliding out his flared nostrils. No! Ruffling his hair, he cursed himself as he wiped his nose with a tissue dangling off the edge of a lunchbox. He would only love Nami! She was his only one. Nothing would change that. Scuffling across the landing, he knocked on the last door, box already in hand - number 212. "Excuse me, lunch!" He cautiously opened the door.

The patient of this room was the strangest he'd seen so far. He was sitting in a chair with a large, opened book on his lap that had nothing on the pages; not a single word. Clothed in the creamy pale hospital attire, his lightly tanned skin was accentuated, muscular structure alert as if he was expecting Sanji. But the most striking things about this man was his choppy green hair that looked as if someone had ran their fingers through it a hundred times too many, and the thick bandages wrapped around his eyes that revealed only the ends of a vertical scar cutting through his left brow to his cheekbone.

"Who are you." The green-haired man demanded rather than questioned, his voice deep and threatening, causing Sanji to jump.

"Ah, I'm the new chef here!" He leant back to check the patient name card placed under each room number outside. His eyes widened as he read the plaque;

'Zoro - Visually Impaired'