Zosan

The Sea Duck was unusually quiet, the afternoon sun turning the deck of the Sunny into a warm, bleached-wood oven. Zoro was leaning against the mast, arms crossed, his rhythmic snoring the only sound until the galley door creaked open. Sanji stepped out, not with his usual kick or a shouted insult, but with two glasses of iced tea and a small plate of sliced citrus. He didn’t say a word as he sat down a few feet away from the swordsman, leaning his back against the same mast.