onepiece_300 | I never actually write what I set out to write...

Title: Tools of the Trade
Rating: PG for just a little cursing
Pairing/Characters: Sanji, Zoro, Yubashiri
Word Count: 598 (ok, so it’s almost double – that’s not too bad…)
Prompt: Blind (in the sense of understanding)
Notes: I’m blaming this on synvamp because ‘Forbidden Fruit’ sparked this mental image…

His back was to the galley door, but he’d been expecting it to slam open any time now, so when it did there was no interruption to his smooth, quick motions.

“What are you doing with Yubashiri?”

Hmm, not the enraged shout he was expecting, but a low, dangerous question. The Marimo was pissed.

Good.

“A coarse dice”, he answered easily, not quite flippant – ignoring the intent of the question for the literal meaning.

There was a muted growl, but it remained controlled, the other man not yet moving. Surprising, but not completely uncommon – he had shown restraint in battle before – just not their normal fights.

The tension in the room was palpable, but smooth as his motions were, half of his attention was focused on the man at his back – waiting for the first sign of movement that would warn him of an impending brawl.

Sanji took a slow drag on his cigarette, expelling a long stream of white before pointedly asking in return, “Where’s my carving knife?”

The tension ratcheted up in the quiet, because of the quiet – he was almost tempted to glance back and make sure the swordsman was still awake, expecting more of a reaction – but he waited for his lesson to sink in, or the fight to start.

The silence stretched on through the soft sound of his continuing dice; although he was sure he heard the creaking sound of a hand gripping katana hilts tightly.

He tensed; any minute now…

“Stop.” The word had a strange quality to it, no real demand, but still a request that expected to be followed – no pleading in the tone at all. Then the other man left the room without approaching, reclaiming his blade- and curious, the cook decided for once to obey the request and see what would happen.

First, carefully – because he respected this tool as important to the other, even if he wasn’t granted the same – he cleaned the length of its worked surface with a damp, clean rag, and dried it with a soft cloth – sheathing it and setting it aside.

Moving to the next task, he cleared the vegetables from his workspace and selected a boning knife, setting in to work on today’s catch of fish. He worked with half an ear to the door, wondering at the strange reaction he had gotten – and was mostly finished with the dinner preparation when it opened twenty minutes later.

The footsteps stopped a few feet away, and there was again quiet for a long stretch. Then, gruffly, “Oi, I cleaned this thing up for you.” I’m sorry. “Didn’t need sharpening.” It’s a good blade.

He could hear the knife being set on the counter, but didn’t feel the need to look. “Ya, ya – just stay out of my stuff.” They’re important to me, too. Jerking a thumb over his shoulder, he continued, “Your oversized knife is over there.” With a snicker he added, “Made a very clean dice.” Yours is pretty good, too.

The quiet sound of movement, and then a blade clicking free – sliding clear of its bonds. The blonde did not expect a fight at this point – knowing the other was just inspecting the blade for damage, but tensed automatically at the sound.

A quiet grunt of acknowledgement was the swordsman’s only reaction before leaving however, dropping a parting ‘thanks’ at the door.

Surprised, he nicked himself and cursed. Swearing he heard a quiet chuckle from the other side of the door, he knew who was getting that portion at dinner. Shitty Marimo.

Besides, a little blood never hurt anyone.

Additional note: Was tempted to use the H/C prompt ironically, and have Zoro go comfort his sword after he got it back. I’m actually still pretty amused by that concept, but blind didn’t get any love, so I stuck with this. ;)