Where Did It Go? Lost My Ficcing Mojo
Jul. 21st, 2006 06:48 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
dethoratsFirst, an untitled Mihawk/Zoro drabble as a very poor thank you.
Rating: G
Word Count: 193
His chosen destiny hinged on a single man. His life did not, for he had his nakama to watch his back and heal his wounds. But his fate, the one he’d vowed to meet when he was only a boy and his greatest rival was a girl possessed of a sharp tongue and better skills, rested on a solitary individual. Roronoa Zoro did not fear death. He did not even fear failure if it was all he was able to earn. What he did fear, what haunted his dreams and made him jolt awake at night covered in a cold sweat, was time. He wasn’t the only swordsman gunning for the prize after all, and there were powerful people on the Grand Line. What if his only chance had already passed him by? If he was too late, if someone got to the Hawk-Eyes first and claimed the title, his destiny wouldn’t technically change but he would still lose. Even if he ultimately won. It was that golden-eyed man who had held the title when he was marked, claimed. And it was only from Mihawk that he could truly regain control of himself.
And then 3 more in my ongoing ZoSopp 101 themes list. I actually like the second one. ^_^
Title: Black Tea
Pairing: ZoSopp
Rating: G
Word Count: 1093
Usopp glared ineffectually at the few remaining specks of deep indigo in his saucer. If he crossed his eyes, the amount doubled and became enough to finish off the last bit of the ink drawing he had spent days working on. But as soon as he uncrossed them, the reality came back in a woeful lack of pigment. And he was SO close to completing it, his latest masterpiece. They were days from land and his inspiration was flowing NOW. Waiting wasn’t something he wanted to risk on this particular work. Nami had ink of course, but it was the wrong shade of black for one and he’d been warned and kicked by watch-dog Sanji often enough to know that trying to filch some from her wasn’t really worth the effort. And the navigator had been in a bad mood lately and Usopp doubted she would want to share.
His fingers twitched and he had to fight back an irrational urge to just rip the paper in front of him to shreds. There was nothing worse than being stymied on a project when it was mere minutes from completion. He flopped back on the floor, thumping his head a little against it as if jarring his brain would somehow remind him of a hidden stash of ink. The chef, busy doing chef-ly things like making dinner, eyed him from his corner of the galley but said nothing as he opened a bottle of vinegar to add to that night’s salad dressing. It was the smell, and maybe the repeated blows to the head, that reminded the artist cum experimental chemist of an old way to get ink.
“Oi Sanji, do we have any black tea?” he asked eagerly, scrambling to his knees to dig around in his handy toolbox for a bit of steel wool.
The cook was quiet for a long moment but Usopp could hear him rummaging through the cupboards. He waited, hand hovering over his own bottle of hydrogen peroxide and growing more and more worried, as Sanji muttered to himself and climbed on a chair to check the top of the icebox and the back of the cabinet over the sink. At last, though, he heard what he wanted.
“Got one tea bag. Found it with Marimo’s ‘hidden’ stash of chocolate but I don’t imagine he’ll mind you using it since I don’t think he drinks anything besides cheap booze.”
Usopp hesitated for all of two seconds before he was on his feet. “Thanks Sanji. Can I use a little of that vinegar too?”
A few minutes later he had his little saucepan going over his Bunsen burner, the concoction inside not exactly the best smelling in the world but far from the worst he’d ever made either. Vinegar dissolved his steel wool, made a deep blue-green mess to which he added his hydrogen peroxide and the strongly steeped tea Sanji had brewed for him. The color darkened swiftly thanks to the chemical reaction between the dissolved steel and the acidic tea. It wasn’t exactly the same as the ink he’d been using before but it was close enough to work. Humming a bit under his breath, he turned back to his waiting canvas to put on the final lines.
The completed drawing was propped up in one corner to dry and he was quietly sharing a pot of green tea with the cook when Zoro wandered into the kitchen and headed for the cabinet over the sink. Sanji winked at Usopp, mouthing the words ‘your lover-boy’s a chocoholic’ while the sharpshooter nodded and hid his grin behind a teacup. But apparently it wasn’t his habitual need for sugar and cacao beans that had him in the kitchen.
“Oi, crap cook. Is there any black tea?”
Usopp flinched at the question as Sanji smoothly replied.
“Nope, the last of it just got used up.”
The blond gestured to the teapot between himself and the sharpshooter. “You can have some of this though.”
The swordsman nodded and settled next to Usopp, bumping him a bit with one shoulder in greeting. It was all relatively peaceful for the thirty seconds or so it took until Zoro started to pour himself a cup.
“What the hell is this crap? This isn’t tea!”
“Oh really?” Sanji arched a curly brow as he studied the scowling man across from him. “And what would you call it, hair dye maybe?”
Usopp privately had to agree that the barb was a rather good one. Zoro’s hair was somewhat close to the shade of the tea but he didn’t think the swordsman would appreciate the comparison. He had Sanji’s tie in his fist as he leaned over the table to shout at the cook and the sharpshooter knew he had to speak up quickly or else face the rather tedious task of cleaning up after the two of them had their fight. Inevitably tea would go everywhere and he wasn’t in the mood to mop the floor.
“Um Zoro? I kinda used up the last of the black tea. You see,” and Usopp’s eyes began to shine the way they always did when he had thought up a particularly boisterous story to give as an excuse.
“Oh, it was you? Okay then. Doesn’t excuse dartboard brow’s stupid trick but at least you can give me a sip or two.”
His tale cut off abruptly, Usopp blinked at Zoro for a moment before he shook his head. “I can’t. I didn’t make it into a drink.”
“Then what the hell’d you do with my tea?”
Usopp pointed wordlessly at his drawing and was gratified that the swordsman had stopped yelling because his mouth was gaping. That was a certainly a suitable response to one of the Great Captain Usopp’s masterpieces.
“You…you…” Zoro’s jaw worked, managed to arrange itself into a small, delighted smile. “You were really paying attention, weren’t you?”
“Just returning the favor. I’m glad you like it.”
Zoro studied the deceptively simple-seeming ink lines and the picture they made. It was like looking at a blue, black, and white photo of his past, right down to the weeping cherry tree in the courtyard outside of the dojo where he had napped after many a training session.
“Thanks,” he finally said. “It’s really nice.” And then, because he was Zoro after all and Sanji was smirking at him, he threw his own cup of green tea in the cook’s face and towed Usopp out of the galley while the blond was still spluttering and wiping his face.
Title: Cosplay/Dressing Up
Pairing: ZoSopp
Rating: PG
Word Count: 767
A/N: In honor of Usopp’s awesomeness and Zoro’s comment in chapter 419
He put the red cape and the broken mask away carefully, stowed them with proper reverence in a trunk at the foot of his new hammock. The ship wasn’t Merry, could never be, but he had to admit that he had finally come to terms with that. Franky had made it okay; the cyborg had been surprisingly sympathetic once the entire story could be told without the threat of CP9 maniacs and an incoming tidal wave to act as distractions. Merry was gone, but the spirit of the valiant craft would never die as long as Usopp and his nakama kept its memory close in their hearts. Besides, it was in large part the people that had made the Going Merry Go into the ship it had been and it was the same people that would transform their new craft into something he could choose to call home. The past was past and he would honor it but he wouldn’t dwell on it. Soge King could be retired in triumph, having served his purpose.
That had been what he had thought. Of course nothing was ever quite that simple on Luffy’s boat. It was the captain who had found the mask, brought it back out and put it on, posing dramatically on the new figurehead with the red cape streaming out behind him. And it was Chopper’s high-pitched, young singing voice joining in with Luffy’s somewhat deeper one that actually caught the sniper’s attention. There had been no hard feelings in the aftermath of Enies Lobby thanks to Luffy’s usual way of knocking aside anything he deemed unimportant. Indeed, there had only been a touch of awe on Chopper’s part and a grin on the captain’s face that Usopp hadn’t been quite sure how to read. In any event, Soge King was looked on as a very entertaining hero if the antics coming from the bow of the ship were any indication.
He spent that day telling stories, all of them dramatic tales of daring escapes and bullet barrages and maidens in distress that the mighty king of Sniper Island had saved at the last possible second. His audience grew steadily with the outrageousness of his plots and by dinnertime even Sanji had been drawn away from his kitchen long enough for the soup to threaten to boil over. He was just in the process of putting his alter ego’s accoutrements away for the night when Zoro snuck up behind him and slipped a hand familiarly around his waist.
“You know,” the swordsman had murmured as he leaned over the sniper’s shoulder to look at the mask, “Soge King seemed to be a pretty popular guy with all those people he rescued. He ever choose to take them up on their offers of reward?”
Usopp grinned and straightened, closed the trunk without returning his accessories. “Why?” he drawled, twisting in Zoro’s arm to gaze into his eyes. “Does a certain green-eyed handsome man suddenly find himself in need of saving?”
“I think he has a problem or two that can only be solved by the great sniper, yeah. Think Soge King is ‘up’ for the challenge?”
The mask was more comfortable than he remembered and he spared a second to wonder if Zoro would want to leave the cape on for the whole thing or if it would end up getting ripped off his shoulders by rough, eager fingers. “Born on the island of Snipers, Soge King is ALWAYS ready for a challenge.”
“Good.”
The swordsman backed away, heading for the new but already battered couch and dropping clothing as he went. Usopp watched as closely as he could through the tinted glass lenses of the mask, absently singing to himself. “100 shots, 100 hits, lala lululooooooo.”
Zoro paused, thumbs hooked into his waistband. “Oh, there’s just one other thing. That guy Soge King has to rescue has one really big weakness.”
Usopp stopped singing, cocked his head. “Oh, and what’s that?”
“Singing makes his head hurt.”
“Awwww,” the newly returned Soge King whined softly. “You don’t like the theme song?”
The now-naked handsome green-haired man flopped down on the couch, pointed in the direction of his waist. “I do but this particular victim doesn’t. And he’s the one in need of rescuing so I’d keep that in mind.”
“Gotcha. Rest assured, Soge King will keep that in mind.”
And Usopp was good and only hummed his theme song, the mask flipped up and the cape draped over bare skin, in exactly the way his victim could appreciate. All in all, it was a spectacularly triumphant return.
Title: Oversized T-shirt
Pairing: ZoSopp
Rating: PG
Word Count: 530
“Luffy! What the hell did you do to my shirt?!”
Zoro stalked across the deck, all bristling indignation as he roared for the captain.
Usopp looked up from his latest mechanical creation and bit back a laugh. The swordsman had Luffy’s cheek pinched firmly in one hand, the other closed around the front of his blue t-shirt to hold it away from his body. Whatever Luffy was saying was garbled as Zoro had his mouth stretched almost as wide as his poor article of clothing. It had been a nice shirt too, that one, with its deep color and the red star with the symbolic gash across one point. Now, though, it was about five sizes too big, stretched out at every possible angle.
“Why were you even wearing my shirt in the first place?”
Apparently Zoro was better at understanding Luffy speak because he seemed to have gotten the story from the captain and dropped the rubber pirate onto the deck. There was a brief scuffle and then the swordsman stalked back across the deck, presumably to go sulk down in the men’s cabin the way he always did. He’d be over it by lunch but Usopp decided to spend his morning very comfortably above deck finding out just what Luffy had been up to. He was pleasantly full, his stomach with Sanji’s splendid re-imagining of pb&j and his head with Luffy’s story about a filched shirt and a gum-gum balloon gone wrong, when he wandered below deck in search of a nap.
It was stuffy in the men’s cabin, hot and close, and Usopp swiped at his brow as he climbed down the ladder. Zoro had managed to grumpily nap (his ability to sleep with obvious types of emotion was a skill his nakama often overlooked, those bastards) through lunch and his snores were loud in the small room. The sharpshooter was starting to second-guess his choice of sleeping spot when he finally stepped off the last rung and turned around. Apparently the heat had gotten to Zoro as well. He was still wearing the shirt he’d been complaining about most vociferously but at first glance he didn’t seem to have anything else on. A second glance revealed the familiar bulging knot of his bandanna under one stretched sleeve but that was it.
The soft blue fabric, the same stuff that used to hang over a firm stomach and clung a bit tight across the muscles of tan arms, now draped loosely over the swordsman’s body. It reached down to the middle of his thighs and stopped, the hem just long enough to be tantalizing when the sniper remembered Zoro’s tendency to go commando. He swallowed, wet his suddenly dry lips, and considered whether he preferred it when Zoro just slept in baggy cotton pants or this new development. New was good, novel, unexplored. At the moment the t-shirt was winning and Usopp muttered a soft thank-you to Luffy’s unending search for amusement. He settled into his hammock, sleep now the farthest thing from his mind. If he waited, the swordsman would eventually have to wake up and move. Perhaps he’d even get lucky and Zoro would stretch.
Rating: G
Word Count: 193
His chosen destiny hinged on a single man. His life did not, for he had his nakama to watch his back and heal his wounds. But his fate, the one he’d vowed to meet when he was only a boy and his greatest rival was a girl possessed of a sharp tongue and better skills, rested on a solitary individual. Roronoa Zoro did not fear death. He did not even fear failure if it was all he was able to earn. What he did fear, what haunted his dreams and made him jolt awake at night covered in a cold sweat, was time. He wasn’t the only swordsman gunning for the prize after all, and there were powerful people on the Grand Line. What if his only chance had already passed him by? If he was too late, if someone got to the Hawk-Eyes first and claimed the title, his destiny wouldn’t technically change but he would still lose. Even if he ultimately won. It was that golden-eyed man who had held the title when he was marked, claimed. And it was only from Mihawk that he could truly regain control of himself.
And then 3 more in my ongoing ZoSopp 101 themes list. I actually like the second one. ^_^
Title: Black Tea
Pairing: ZoSopp
Rating: G
Word Count: 1093
Usopp glared ineffectually at the few remaining specks of deep indigo in his saucer. If he crossed his eyes, the amount doubled and became enough to finish off the last bit of the ink drawing he had spent days working on. But as soon as he uncrossed them, the reality came back in a woeful lack of pigment. And he was SO close to completing it, his latest masterpiece. They were days from land and his inspiration was flowing NOW. Waiting wasn’t something he wanted to risk on this particular work. Nami had ink of course, but it was the wrong shade of black for one and he’d been warned and kicked by watch-dog Sanji often enough to know that trying to filch some from her wasn’t really worth the effort. And the navigator had been in a bad mood lately and Usopp doubted she would want to share.
His fingers twitched and he had to fight back an irrational urge to just rip the paper in front of him to shreds. There was nothing worse than being stymied on a project when it was mere minutes from completion. He flopped back on the floor, thumping his head a little against it as if jarring his brain would somehow remind him of a hidden stash of ink. The chef, busy doing chef-ly things like making dinner, eyed him from his corner of the galley but said nothing as he opened a bottle of vinegar to add to that night’s salad dressing. It was the smell, and maybe the repeated blows to the head, that reminded the artist cum experimental chemist of an old way to get ink.
“Oi Sanji, do we have any black tea?” he asked eagerly, scrambling to his knees to dig around in his handy toolbox for a bit of steel wool.
The cook was quiet for a long moment but Usopp could hear him rummaging through the cupboards. He waited, hand hovering over his own bottle of hydrogen peroxide and growing more and more worried, as Sanji muttered to himself and climbed on a chair to check the top of the icebox and the back of the cabinet over the sink. At last, though, he heard what he wanted.
“Got one tea bag. Found it with Marimo’s ‘hidden’ stash of chocolate but I don’t imagine he’ll mind you using it since I don’t think he drinks anything besides cheap booze.”
Usopp hesitated for all of two seconds before he was on his feet. “Thanks Sanji. Can I use a little of that vinegar too?”
A few minutes later he had his little saucepan going over his Bunsen burner, the concoction inside not exactly the best smelling in the world but far from the worst he’d ever made either. Vinegar dissolved his steel wool, made a deep blue-green mess to which he added his hydrogen peroxide and the strongly steeped tea Sanji had brewed for him. The color darkened swiftly thanks to the chemical reaction between the dissolved steel and the acidic tea. It wasn’t exactly the same as the ink he’d been using before but it was close enough to work. Humming a bit under his breath, he turned back to his waiting canvas to put on the final lines.
The completed drawing was propped up in one corner to dry and he was quietly sharing a pot of green tea with the cook when Zoro wandered into the kitchen and headed for the cabinet over the sink. Sanji winked at Usopp, mouthing the words ‘your lover-boy’s a chocoholic’ while the sharpshooter nodded and hid his grin behind a teacup. But apparently it wasn’t his habitual need for sugar and cacao beans that had him in the kitchen.
“Oi, crap cook. Is there any black tea?”
Usopp flinched at the question as Sanji smoothly replied.
“Nope, the last of it just got used up.”
The blond gestured to the teapot between himself and the sharpshooter. “You can have some of this though.”
The swordsman nodded and settled next to Usopp, bumping him a bit with one shoulder in greeting. It was all relatively peaceful for the thirty seconds or so it took until Zoro started to pour himself a cup.
“What the hell is this crap? This isn’t tea!”
“Oh really?” Sanji arched a curly brow as he studied the scowling man across from him. “And what would you call it, hair dye maybe?”
Usopp privately had to agree that the barb was a rather good one. Zoro’s hair was somewhat close to the shade of the tea but he didn’t think the swordsman would appreciate the comparison. He had Sanji’s tie in his fist as he leaned over the table to shout at the cook and the sharpshooter knew he had to speak up quickly or else face the rather tedious task of cleaning up after the two of them had their fight. Inevitably tea would go everywhere and he wasn’t in the mood to mop the floor.
“Um Zoro? I kinda used up the last of the black tea. You see,” and Usopp’s eyes began to shine the way they always did when he had thought up a particularly boisterous story to give as an excuse.
“Oh, it was you? Okay then. Doesn’t excuse dartboard brow’s stupid trick but at least you can give me a sip or two.”
His tale cut off abruptly, Usopp blinked at Zoro for a moment before he shook his head. “I can’t. I didn’t make it into a drink.”
“Then what the hell’d you do with my tea?”
Usopp pointed wordlessly at his drawing and was gratified that the swordsman had stopped yelling because his mouth was gaping. That was a certainly a suitable response to one of the Great Captain Usopp’s masterpieces.
“You…you…” Zoro’s jaw worked, managed to arrange itself into a small, delighted smile. “You were really paying attention, weren’t you?”
“Just returning the favor. I’m glad you like it.”
Zoro studied the deceptively simple-seeming ink lines and the picture they made. It was like looking at a blue, black, and white photo of his past, right down to the weeping cherry tree in the courtyard outside of the dojo where he had napped after many a training session.
“Thanks,” he finally said. “It’s really nice.” And then, because he was Zoro after all and Sanji was smirking at him, he threw his own cup of green tea in the cook’s face and towed Usopp out of the galley while the blond was still spluttering and wiping his face.
Title: Cosplay/Dressing Up
Pairing: ZoSopp
Rating: PG
Word Count: 767
A/N: In honor of Usopp’s awesomeness and Zoro’s comment in chapter 419
He put the red cape and the broken mask away carefully, stowed them with proper reverence in a trunk at the foot of his new hammock. The ship wasn’t Merry, could never be, but he had to admit that he had finally come to terms with that. Franky had made it okay; the cyborg had been surprisingly sympathetic once the entire story could be told without the threat of CP9 maniacs and an incoming tidal wave to act as distractions. Merry was gone, but the spirit of the valiant craft would never die as long as Usopp and his nakama kept its memory close in their hearts. Besides, it was in large part the people that had made the Going Merry Go into the ship it had been and it was the same people that would transform their new craft into something he could choose to call home. The past was past and he would honor it but he wouldn’t dwell on it. Soge King could be retired in triumph, having served his purpose.
That had been what he had thought. Of course nothing was ever quite that simple on Luffy’s boat. It was the captain who had found the mask, brought it back out and put it on, posing dramatically on the new figurehead with the red cape streaming out behind him. And it was Chopper’s high-pitched, young singing voice joining in with Luffy’s somewhat deeper one that actually caught the sniper’s attention. There had been no hard feelings in the aftermath of Enies Lobby thanks to Luffy’s usual way of knocking aside anything he deemed unimportant. Indeed, there had only been a touch of awe on Chopper’s part and a grin on the captain’s face that Usopp hadn’t been quite sure how to read. In any event, Soge King was looked on as a very entertaining hero if the antics coming from the bow of the ship were any indication.
He spent that day telling stories, all of them dramatic tales of daring escapes and bullet barrages and maidens in distress that the mighty king of Sniper Island had saved at the last possible second. His audience grew steadily with the outrageousness of his plots and by dinnertime even Sanji had been drawn away from his kitchen long enough for the soup to threaten to boil over. He was just in the process of putting his alter ego’s accoutrements away for the night when Zoro snuck up behind him and slipped a hand familiarly around his waist.
“You know,” the swordsman had murmured as he leaned over the sniper’s shoulder to look at the mask, “Soge King seemed to be a pretty popular guy with all those people he rescued. He ever choose to take them up on their offers of reward?”
Usopp grinned and straightened, closed the trunk without returning his accessories. “Why?” he drawled, twisting in Zoro’s arm to gaze into his eyes. “Does a certain green-eyed handsome man suddenly find himself in need of saving?”
“I think he has a problem or two that can only be solved by the great sniper, yeah. Think Soge King is ‘up’ for the challenge?”
The mask was more comfortable than he remembered and he spared a second to wonder if Zoro would want to leave the cape on for the whole thing or if it would end up getting ripped off his shoulders by rough, eager fingers. “Born on the island of Snipers, Soge King is ALWAYS ready for a challenge.”
“Good.”
The swordsman backed away, heading for the new but already battered couch and dropping clothing as he went. Usopp watched as closely as he could through the tinted glass lenses of the mask, absently singing to himself. “100 shots, 100 hits, lala lululooooooo.”
Zoro paused, thumbs hooked into his waistband. “Oh, there’s just one other thing. That guy Soge King has to rescue has one really big weakness.”
Usopp stopped singing, cocked his head. “Oh, and what’s that?”
“Singing makes his head hurt.”
“Awwww,” the newly returned Soge King whined softly. “You don’t like the theme song?”
The now-naked handsome green-haired man flopped down on the couch, pointed in the direction of his waist. “I do but this particular victim doesn’t. And he’s the one in need of rescuing so I’d keep that in mind.”
“Gotcha. Rest assured, Soge King will keep that in mind.”
And Usopp was good and only hummed his theme song, the mask flipped up and the cape draped over bare skin, in exactly the way his victim could appreciate. All in all, it was a spectacularly triumphant return.
Title: Oversized T-shirt
Pairing: ZoSopp
Rating: PG
Word Count: 530
“Luffy! What the hell did you do to my shirt?!”
Zoro stalked across the deck, all bristling indignation as he roared for the captain.
Usopp looked up from his latest mechanical creation and bit back a laugh. The swordsman had Luffy’s cheek pinched firmly in one hand, the other closed around the front of his blue t-shirt to hold it away from his body. Whatever Luffy was saying was garbled as Zoro had his mouth stretched almost as wide as his poor article of clothing. It had been a nice shirt too, that one, with its deep color and the red star with the symbolic gash across one point. Now, though, it was about five sizes too big, stretched out at every possible angle.
“Why were you even wearing my shirt in the first place?”
Apparently Zoro was better at understanding Luffy speak because he seemed to have gotten the story from the captain and dropped the rubber pirate onto the deck. There was a brief scuffle and then the swordsman stalked back across the deck, presumably to go sulk down in the men’s cabin the way he always did. He’d be over it by lunch but Usopp decided to spend his morning very comfortably above deck finding out just what Luffy had been up to. He was pleasantly full, his stomach with Sanji’s splendid re-imagining of pb&j and his head with Luffy’s story about a filched shirt and a gum-gum balloon gone wrong, when he wandered below deck in search of a nap.
It was stuffy in the men’s cabin, hot and close, and Usopp swiped at his brow as he climbed down the ladder. Zoro had managed to grumpily nap (his ability to sleep with obvious types of emotion was a skill his nakama often overlooked, those bastards) through lunch and his snores were loud in the small room. The sharpshooter was starting to second-guess his choice of sleeping spot when he finally stepped off the last rung and turned around. Apparently the heat had gotten to Zoro as well. He was still wearing the shirt he’d been complaining about most vociferously but at first glance he didn’t seem to have anything else on. A second glance revealed the familiar bulging knot of his bandanna under one stretched sleeve but that was it.
The soft blue fabric, the same stuff that used to hang over a firm stomach and clung a bit tight across the muscles of tan arms, now draped loosely over the swordsman’s body. It reached down to the middle of his thighs and stopped, the hem just long enough to be tantalizing when the sniper remembered Zoro’s tendency to go commando. He swallowed, wet his suddenly dry lips, and considered whether he preferred it when Zoro just slept in baggy cotton pants or this new development. New was good, novel, unexplored. At the moment the t-shirt was winning and Usopp muttered a soft thank-you to Luffy’s unending search for amusement. He settled into his hammock, sleep now the farthest thing from his mind. If he waited, the swordsman would eventually have to wake up and move. Perhaps he’d even get lucky and Zoro would stretch.
