(no subject)

[poet_at_heart]

Title: These Familiar Streets
Pairing: Zoro X Sanji
Setting: Modern day Kyoto
Rating: M
Chapter: 3
Summary: After almost three years in Tokyo, Sanji now returns to Kyoto to fight in that war again. Problem is, now he also has to face the lover and the life he left behind.
Thanks to: My beta unseen_daydream  

 

"You can clutch the past so tightly to your chest that it leaves your arms too full to embrace the present." - Jan Glidewell

Chapter 3

He hates crowds. Or more, he hates being in them. To the swordsman, it's just disturbing, being in the middle of a group of strangers without his swords or magic. He doesn't feel comfortable at all, not knowing who might be behind him or what he could defend himself with. Not that he had much of a choice, since he was born and is living in Japan, one of the most densely populated countries in the world. Hell, it might even be the most densely populated country, he isn't really sure, but it sure feels like it is right now.

"Ne, Zoro, what are you thinking about?" Looking up at his older friend, Chopper brushes his brown bangs out of his eyes, trying to make out what the other is thinking of.

"Nothing in particular, 'm just spacing out a little, that's all." He smiles down at his little buddy, lifting his hand to ruffle his brown, curly hair. The glare he gets makes him laugh a little, so he pats Chopper's head instead, trying to soothe the irritation. "So are we finished your shopping yet?"

He lifts the book bags in his left hand to put emphasis on his words, quirking an eyebrow as he does so.

"No, but there's only one more left and it's in the opposite end of our apartment. So I can take the bags now and you can go home. Thanks for helping me carrying them so far!"

"You sure? I got nothing to do anyway; I might as well keep on carrying 'em for you all the way."

"No, this is more than enough! You can just go home and train or something; I'm strong, I can carry some bags on my own."

Shrugging, Zoro hands over the bags and smiles a little again as the brunette is being pulled down by them, before he splits them up so he carries two in one hand and one in the other. Then again, the kid isn't as weak as he looks. Sometimes, when the situation calls for it, he's able to carry four times his own weight.

After they say their goodbyes, he watches Chopper walk in the opposite direction and he is soon swallowed by the crowd. Then he stands there alone, before he too turns around, walking around a corner, remembering how he met the little medical student.

It had been about two years ago, when he had been out running on a rainy autumn evening; he heard a cry for help from the river as he passed. Looking down into the dark water, he had seen a boy fighting for his life before the waves pulled him beneath the surface. Reacting only on instinct, Zoro had dived down into the cold darkness, grabbed a hold of a jacket and then swam to the surface. As he swam them back to the shore, he noticed how the boy held something in his arms, which kept him from using his arms correctly. Later, he would learn that the 'something' had been an Akita puppy that had fallen into the river from a nearby bridge.

Looking back at it now, he could see that that meeting had been a turning point for him, it had been him being pulled up from a cold, suffocating darkness just as much as Chopper. After he had carried the other home to his new place, he had realized that it was the new attendant on the first floor, a kid he had seen in the lobby a few times.

With that in mind, he had gotten him into the bathtub, and questioned the boy's sanity while waiting for the hot water to fill up. But the answer he'd gotten from the wet little boy with his hair plastered to his head had shut his mouth tight; hadn't he himself done exactly the same thing, jumping into the water for someone he didn't know? Flustered, he hadn't answered the comeback but instead went for some dry clothes, trying to come up with something to say.

Meanwhile, the pup had, after shaking off the water onto his furniture, planted itself in his bed. And it did the same thing whenever Zoro watched him for his friend.

Caught up in the warm memories he wouldn't admit that he thought of, a familiar sensation, a vague scent in the swarm of people suddenly pulled him back to the present with a violent jolt. Looking around, he begins to feel dizzy after spotting a few blondes. But he knew they weren't him. Since that one was a woman, that one was too young and that one…

Seeing a blond man in a black suit walking through the crowd, weaving his way forward without disturbing anyone, going out and in of the green haired man's sight, Zoro feels like he can't breath as his throat tightens. The dizziness increases and he feels his feet beginning to move forward, charging after that one oh-so familiar back, without conscious thought of the act.

He shouldn't do this; he shouldn't raise his voice and scream that damned name. His heart shouldn't beat like it was about to burst out of his chest, like he would die if this was just another illusion made up by his stressed mind. But he does it anyway.

"Sanji! Oi, Sanji!" Some people turn their head and look odd at him, but he ignores them, just pushes forward through a crowd that begins to part by itself. Adrenaline pumping, his heartbeat pounding in his ears, it's the only sound he hears besides his own breathing. Fear, anger and hope mixing together, he sees the man chases turn his head slightly, blond hair and distance shielding his features. And then he starts to run too.

"Why would he run if it wasn't him? Why!" The small, hopeful voice inside of Zoro's mind repeats the question over and over again; a throbbing inside of his skull beating like a drum, and the rhythm matches his running. Each time one of his feet connects with the asphalt, the question is repeated, each time his heart beats stronger than before. Now he doesn't care what he does, he just has to get the damn answer to it, to end this fucking pain! So he pushes a woman aside, takes a running step to the side past a couple and tries not to stumble on some children.

"SANJI!" The other runs faster now, increasing the distance between them, pushing forward through the crowd as he ignoring Zoro's shouts. But it can't be that he doesn't hear them. It can't be that Sanji doesn't recognize his voice. "You've turned into a fool, Zoro. You shouldn't let this effect you so much, it will only increase and prolong your pain." Remembering Mihawk's words in a moment of clarity, the young man realizes that he is indeed a fool for chasing a man who might not even be the right one. But in the next moment, he ignores it again.

"It's not like I have any damn choice!" Zoro continues running, the crowd seems to grow thicker, and he notices that they must be getting closer to a train station now. And just as he thinks it, the blond man disappears inside of the building.

A panic he cannot control starts to well up in his chest as he loses sight of him, tightening around his heart as he slams the door open, it screams at him to not loose sight of that one person he might have found again. But no matter where he turns, there are no blond heads; there are no slim young men in dark suits. The tightening increases, he feels like he can't breathe, as if his lungs aren't working.

He pants and spins around, breathing in deep through his nose, tries to find a trace of that familiar cologne. Sweat, perfume, flowers, food, ink, everything assaults his sense of smell. Everything except for what he is looking for…

As the adrenaline decreases, Zoro's heartbeat slows down, the thundering in his ears getting lower and lower, the sounds of all the people around him getting inside of his skull, banging at his brain. He presses his palms to his temples, trying to shut them out.

"Shut up… Just shut up all of you…!"

"The hell is up with you, Zoro?"

"Come on now, you have to move on, life ain't waiting for ya'…"

"I can't believe he's become like this, did they really have such a close relationship?"

"SHUT UP!" The roar echoes in the hall, making heads turn in his direction, but he doesn't see them, doesn't care if anyone gets hurt as he storms out of the building. Since nothing can hurt more than the place where his heart used to be.

~(TFS)~

"Welcome back, Lolonoa-san."

"Yeah…"

"How are you?" Stopping and glancing at his landlady as she leans slightly against the broom in her hands, her growing stomach in the way, he mumbles an answer. He isn't really up to talking to anyone right now; he's strung as tight as a violin string, after going to the dojo just to find no one there as everyone was either out on mission or at their work. So no sparring to relieve tension for him, nooo, life just had to keep being a bitch and laugh in his face.

"Good, I guess…" Before she begins to say anything more, he's walking again, wanting to be alone. He can feel her eyes on his back, so he pulls his shoulders up, rolls them so they pop to get rid of some of the stiffness. As he walks up the first flight of stairs, he tries to ignore the dark and empty feeling within, it's like someone has drilled a hole in his chest.

Reaching the top, he turns to the left at door number 5, the one where someone new had moved in since the girl living there had got married or something like that. Zoro doesn't really care about who the new tenet is, he doesn't even know if it's a man or woman. And he honestly doesn't give a rat's ass about it; the person behind that door can be an alien for all he cares.

Caring for others, it was something he probably would never do again, after so-fucking-many disappointments and people leaving him behind his heart is closed off forever to the world. But as he hears guitar tunes playing from behind the door he had just passed, his chest contradicts, pain shooting through his body like a live wire. Breathing in hard, he grabs a hold of the center of his shirt and the wall, trying to suppress it all.

Still, the music creeps into his auditory canal, his keen hearing picking up the familiar sound of nimble fingers playing 'Summer of 69' on an acoustic guitar. Swearing, he bangs his fist into the wall, almost breaking it in. He can't hold it back anymore as a tear rolls down his cheek, the pain cold as fire inside of his chest.

It is all gone, all he had cared about is gone and he's stuck here, alone, fighting as his only reason for living. No longer are there slim hands to help him wash the blood away, no longer are there any optimistic or irritated voices to make him forget about the screams of pain and battle. Fuck, he would go crazy from the loss!

Zoro leans heavily on the wall, his breath turning ragged as he tries to hide his tear stained face in his arm and the music continues to play. Hasn't he decided to forget everything about that man, to just ignore that they had ever met?

"I play it when I feel down, helps me get back up on my horses."

"Yeah, but it pulls me down now, you idiot..." Pushing his now heavy body of the wall, he starts walking up the stairs again, once again swearing to leave those ghosts behind. Even though he knows it's futile. Since no one can escape from a danger coming from within, only prevent it for a short moment of time.

~(TFS)~

He wasn't crying. He wasn't sitting behind his couch and crying his heart out with his guitar in his arms and a glass of wine beside him. He hadn't ran away, fled like a coward. He- he... No, in truth he was pathetic, letting his fear of facing the past control his actions. There is no excuse for his actions, he had panicked when he heard Zoro's voice calling out to him, with such pain and hope. He's a creep, an utter creep for treating the man he loves like he carries the plague.

Sanji tries to swallow down the tears that well up, he bites his own lip so hard that he tastes copper just to keep from weeping like a child. So, he continues to force his fingers to move according to the notes, the music all but falling from the strings with a heartbreaking sound, increasing the 'bitter' in the bittersweet song. 'Summer of 69', it usually cheers him up, but right now the pain is too immense, too fresh for it to help. Instead, his warm tears fall down on the guitar, the water cooling as it rolls down the wood and finally hits the floor.

But he'll play until his fingers bleed, if not just out of habit. He knows the pain will ease, become dull so that he can breathe again without too much trouble, though it seems far away right now.

As he streaks the notes over and over again, his fingers moving by memory, he looks up at the ceiling and his head hits the hard wood behind him. How long has he been sitting here? How many seconds, how many minutes, hours, days? For once, he has lost track of time, lost his connection to the "real" world. Not that he usually resided in it anyway, but still...

Damn he misses him. Misses his scowl, misses his smile, misses his way of grabbing Sanji by the hips as he prepared food, leaning in close and observing him work, misses their fights and their OK-we-both-we're-wrong-sex. Ah, he even missed the idiot's scent.

Struck by a sudden realization, an urge he can't defy, the blond stands up and leaves his guitar on the floor, taking the wine glass with him. Walking through his apartment with fast strides, turning right around the corner out to the hallway and then right again into his bedroom, he doesn't think, can't. As he kneels before a moving container he still has to unpack, but probably never will, it is as if the world around him has slowed down and turned sluggish. He fumbles with the tape, his fingers dull.

But when he finally gets inside it and starts digging through the memories there, his fingers brushing soft fabric, the world starts to slowly move again. When he pulls the dark blue hoodie out of its coffin, small trinkets and photos spilling out along with it, and presses it to his nose, the world is spinning wildly around him.

He breathes in deeply, the scent of sweat and cheap deodorant filling his nose, soothing his scarred soul. The memories come rushing back, pain mixing with bittersweet happiness, drowned in the light of those days.

Watching the fireworks at summer festivals, drinking, going out to a movie, sparring, doing small things like touching each other while no one noticed in school, that had been the happiest time of his life. Who could have known that that small meeting during his first year in high school would change his world so much?

It had been almost six years ago, but he could still recall the fresh scent of the sakura flowers that had hung in the air, the feeling of stress over being late. He had rushed over the paved ground, his new school shoes making a clicking sound as they hit the stone and the fallen petals. All around him the trees had been clad in soft pink shades, even though much had fallen down to cover the ground and the bushes which edged the walkway, the trees looked like fluffy cotton candy. Its beauty had been mesmerizing, so he had stopped to watch the wind blow though the crowns, making him lose track of time.

He still doesn't know what it was that had made him look up into just that particular tree. It might have been a sound, a soft rustling or the sight of something green among all that pink. He just knew that, to his surprise, a boy his age had suddenly jumped down from a branch and yawned with petals stuck to his green hair and black uniform.

Sanji had stopped and stared at him, not knowing quite what to think, where he came from people didn't sleep in trees on the first day of school. But then he had quickly found his composure again.

"Oi, you're going to be late to school if you sleep up in a tree like that!" He hadn't really meant to criticize the other, just to tell him the truth, but by the irritated glare he had gotten, he could see that the other had taken it the wrong way. Apparently this guy didn't like critique. At all.

"Shut up, it's non of your business what I do." Just as his brain had processed a smart-ass comeback, he saw how the other picked up his bag and started walking back, away from the school buildings. A light popping up inside of his mind, he retorted.

"Oi, moss head, school 's the other way around!" He could see the other's shoulders tensing, the aura of irritation intensifying. Sanji had almost snickered, it was so easy to get under this guy's skin. But then the favor was returned.

"Tsch, like you'd know, you curly-eyebrow-freak."

"What? Watch your mouth you shitty asshole!"

"I'll say whatever I want, blondie!"

"Oh, that's it you neanderthal!"

"Whatchya gonna do about it, pretty boy, call daddy and cry that someone talked back at you?" That last insult about his father had set him on fire, and Sanji had kicked the other in the head. In the next moment, the two of them was engaged in the worst fight the school had ever seen.

Teachers and some other late students had come running to see what all the ruckus was about, only to come in time to see two youngsters all but mash the bushes in which they had forced each other into. Zoro had gotten his hand on the bokken* he'd taken with him, blocking the kicks sent at him with an inhuman strength and agility he possessed even then.

And as they stood before their new teacher in the teachers' lounge, both hanging their heads as their guardians had come to pick up their rebellious sons. To think that those two men had been so close to each other, it was a frightening thought. But it had nothing at the irritation they had felt when they learned that they were in the same class. The classroom they had shared had taken its own blows, desks had been crashed and some chairs had flown through the room. And during that first year, they had had three different teachers.

Smiling through the tears, Sanji buries his face deeper into the fabric, inhaling its fragrance. Those memories are so precious, so important that no matter how much time or how much pain comes between them and the present, those memories will never be stained. No matter what...

The sound of his voice still rings in Sanji's ears, the pain sharp in his stomach and chest. He clenches his teeth, pushes the whimper back. He's not gonna cry like some teenage girl in unrequited love, he's a grown up man for Shiryuu's sake!

Instead, he starts picking up all the photographs and other things, a shell from one time they went to the sea, a ticket to Nickelback's Japan tour the mossball had fixed in some way, fox-mask from... Along with the items, he pushes his memories down into the brown box, before he folds the tabs together in a hurry and shoves the box under his bed. The monster there can have some fun looking through them.

As he sits back on his heels, desperately wishing for a cigarette, he looks at the hoodie lying next to him. He can't put it there, it's not in his heart. So instead, he picks it up as he stands up and dries his wet cheeks with the sleeve of his shirt. He bends down and picks up the wine glass too, downing the last mouthfuls of the red liquor when he walks out of the room. He has to get ready to kick some Suzaku and Byakko ass, after all.

-

Well, now I have an annunciation (sp?) to make;

I've started working on a book as a school-project and I feel already that it will take time from my ff-writing...
But I will continue! I still have some chapters already prepared! ^W^

Review if you liked this chapter~

Bokken = Basically a wooden katana.