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Entry tags:
ZoSopp - Yes, again
Title: What He Can Do
Rating: R
Pairing: ZoSopp with Luffy vaguely tossed in
Word Count: 5412
Spoilers: Through 485-486
Notes: A weird-ass piece of fanfic that worked much better in my head. I had in mind that teenagers are clueless morons sometimes and that those who push past the limits have to keep pushing, even if just to find the new boundaries.
Now
* ka-chunk *
* ka-chunk *
* ka-thunk*
The rhythm’s off, faltering slightly, and Usopp would swear up and down that his ears twitched at every unsteady beat. He’s technically spying, eavesdropping really, but when all he can hear is the sound of iron on iron and the occasional snarl and grunt it can’t really count as anything even vaguely untoward. Besides, someone needs to keep an eye, or rather an ear, on the fool.
It’s been six days since Sanji carried Zoro, unconscious, broken and bloody, out from the edge of the forest and shoved him into a shocked and sobbing Chopper’s arms.
Two Days Ago
There’s a strange blankness to Zoro’s face, something dark and almost haunted that lurks in his eyes as he moves and it makes Usopp’s chest feel tight, as if a steel band has encircled his heart and is slowly shrinking, squeezing him until his blood roars in his ears and his head feels far too heavy atop his neck.
Zoro moves, slow and jerky and oddly mechanical, and his lip curls up in a silent sneer when Usopp gingerly slides his hands under the firm muscles of his ass and gently tries to take up some of the swordsman’s weight. But he doesn’t say anything and he sags a little into Usopp’s hold and when the sniper’s calloused fingers press into bruised and aching flesh by accident he even sighs out a quiet moan even though Usopp immediately shifts his hands back to relative safety.
Half the bandages are gone, ripped off because they were hindering Zoro’s movement and because his skin was itching where some of the surface cuts and scrapes had begun to scab over. Chopper will be mad but Zoro doesn’t care. He’s not dead yet; there’s no reason for him to be wrapped up as tightly as some mummy in a tomb. Usopp thinks he should try to slap some of the gauze and cotton back on and he wishes Zoro had left them be. There doesn’t seem to be a single spot on the swordsman that isn’t damaged. His flesh is in tatters, a motley patchwork of bruises so deep they reach broken bones and a variety of varying degrees of slices, nicks, and stitched together skin. Zoro looks like a bomb went off inside his body and made a building fall on him at the same time. He should still be unconscious (‘Really,’ a small and evil little voice inside Usopp’s head says, ‘he should be dead.’) or at the very least propped up in bed, not kneeling on the couch in the men’s room of the Thousand Sunny with a cock up his ass.
Usopp had said no, had refused and demurred and tried to beg off about thirty times – really – but Zoro had insisted, demanded with a hand fisted far too tightly in the sniper’s shirt. And Usopp’s seventeen and the swordsman’s other hand had been unrelenting, rubbing circles into Usopp’s groin and staring into Usopp’s eyes with such a fiercely desperate expression that he’d finally had to relent. He’d thought, in the back of his mind where he tried to rationalize the guilt that shot through him as he stared at Zoro’s battered form and the angry flush of his dick against all the scarlet-speckled white wrapped around his stomach, that maybe the swordsman needed an affirmation, proof that he was still alive, that he’d be okay.
But once they’d started, once Usopp had eased into the heat of Zoro’s body, it had all gone strange. There is none of the usual fire, nothing of teasing fingers or a smirking mouth, not even a gentleness to match the necessary slowness of their pace. If it weren’t for the snug warmth around his cock and the desire he can’t help but always have for the swordsman, Usopp would have gone soft long ago and put an end to whatever it is Zoro is trying to do. But he has a teenager’s hormones and Zoro looks so odd, so off, that Usopp’s afraid not to see whatever this is until the end.
Zoro’s knuckles scrape against Usopp’s stomach and wet warmth splatters over the sniper’s ribcage. Zoro pauses, sucks in a breath, but he pushes Usopp back against the couch when the sniper tries to pull free, unfinished. Clenching, rippling muscles drag an orgasm out of Usopp two minutes later but it’s probably the least satisfaction he’s ever felt. Still, he leans up to press a kiss to the hard line of Zoro’s mouth. The swordsman’s lips barely give and he pulls away, heaving himself up and off of Usopp’s lap.
That hurts but not as much as the muffled groan and shrug Zoro gives moments later, Usopp’s arm flinching back from where he’d attempted to wrap it around the swordsman. It stings, like a pepper star to the face, and Usopp blinks rapidly a few times before he stands up. Zoro has always, to the sniper’s secret delight, been a cuddler after sex. But this time he turns Usopp away, his eyes resolutely closed and the line of his jaw tight. Usopp drapes a blanket over him and pulls his overalls back up. He leaves Zoro behind and only silence follows him.
It all feels very very wrong.
Six Days Ago
Chopper kicks them all out of the only room with a roof still overhead but Robin, a first aid kit dredged up and given to Nami to help them patch themselves up as best they can, while the little reindeer tackles a much larger job. He lets Robin stay. He needs her hands, so many more than just his two, to staunch far too many bleeding wounds and help him with his surgery. Zoro had looked worse than all of the zombies on Thriller Bark, little better than tenderized meat, and the brief glimpse Usopp had seen had made him nauseous. He wanders away from the rest of them; unable to stomach Luffy’s attempts at cheerfulness or all the blood on the shirt Sanji has yet to change. The ruins of Moria’s mansion surround him, scattered furniture reminding him of nothing so much as a giant child throwing a tantrum and upending a dollhouse. That’s pretty apt, Oz being even more simplistic than their captain, but with Zoro so near to death, the comparison seems utterly terrible. It’s all been terrible, lately, and Usopp finds an upended chair amid the debris and rights it, collapses into it as if his knees have given out.
Aokiji, Water 7, Merry, Enies Lobby, his last-second reunion during Garp’s bombardment. Usopp rests his head in his hands and squeezes his eyes shut against the memories that pour in and pound in his skull. He hadn’t been lying when he’d told Luffy on that wretched day aboard Sunny that he’d known that he could never catch up to him, to Zoro and Sanji and even Chopper, Robin, and Nami. It had seemed so true at that point and his confidence had always been more blustery bravado than real. But the bonds of nakama had been strong, stronger even than his gallant little ship in the end, and so he had caught up as best he could.
Soge King is as great in his own way as Zoro and Sanji. He is the king of all snipers and a brilliant hero. It’s strange what’s going on in his head, Usopp knows, but in some ways Soge King feels more real and alive than he does. Soge King has burned the World Government’s flag and pulled off shots that no other person on earth could accomplish. Soge King is brave and strong and true and when he speaks, he is sure of himself without even a hint of Usopp’s stuttering courage. Soge King is many things that Usopp is not and for a while he had considered leaving the mask on permanently. Zoro had asked, as Luffy set the flaming torch to Merry, if he could endure. Behind the painted wood, Usopp’s eyes had been brimming and his voice was thick as he replied that he was fully prepared.
It had been a lie, the only one Soge King had ever told. Usopp hadn’t been ready, not completely, and he had been far too much himself behind the mask. Merry had led to Soge King, to the biggest and most terrible fight he’d ever known. And Merry had been his secret and his special nakama for the longest time, his connection to his far-away home and a more innocent age. If Merry couldn’t make it, how could he? But Merry had taken that final step all alone and left them all in awe and gratitude. Usopp could do nothing less. He had Merry to live up to and the nakama Merry had loved he loved as deeply and strongly as well. It had just taken an entirely-too-close-call to make him realize how true that was.
Zoro had told him that first night on the Thousand Sunny that it had been his order not to let the sniper aboard without an apology. Those words, spoken so calmly, had reopened the barely closed wound in his heart that had been open and gaping ever since he’d lost their Skypiea money to Franky. But Zoro’s face had been drawn, dark circles under his eyes proof that the swordsman hadn’t been sleeping, and his fingers had dug in bone-deep as he grabbed Usopp by the shoulder as the sniper had turned, stunned, to walk away. More words had tumbled out, gruff with emotion the swordsman rarely let out. Strong words, words worthy of Luffy as he spoke about the meaning of trust and nakama and the faith he had in all of them, that they had to have in order to survive what surely lay ahead. At the time, Usopp had only been able to nod, head swimming with it all and his bleeding heart numb. Two days later, he’d stayed in bed while the rest of his nakama got up. Zoro had come down from his late watch and the slow grin that flowered on his face when Usopp shoved his blankets down and beckoned had finished the job of healing the sniper’s heart that the swordsman’s words had started. A week later they sailed into the Florian Triangle.
The strains of a violin drift over the rubble and Usopp slowly raises his head. Brooke is playing something soft and slow, his bow dragging across the strings as he walks closer. It’s not sad but Usopp feels moisture gather at the corners of his eyes anyway. He wipes the back of his hand over his face and looks at Brooke. The skeleton looks back, the hollow black pits of his eye sockets far more expressive than they have any right to be.
“You look as downhearted as I feel,” the musician says. “Except I don’t have a heart.”
“Skull joke,” Usopp replies dully, stealing the newly familiar line. He doesn’t think he can bear to hear Brooke trying to cheer him up, not when he doesn’t have the strength to summon a single mask to hide behind. Even Soge King would have nothing to say. Moria, Oz, that mysterious Kuma; the Straw Hats have never fought so hard as a team before and yet Zoro could still die. Could never wake up, could wake up crippled despite Chopper’s best efforts. All the terrible possibilities Usopp’s been trying to ignore threaten to swamp him and he blanches.
“Indeed.” Brooke’s voice is gentle and the music stops as he lays a bony hand on Usopp’s shoulder. His touch is feather-light and much too brief. He says nothing more, just rights another chair and settles into it as he resumes playing. The notes of an old lullaby wash over Usopp and he closes his eyes and tries not to think.
It’s closer to dusk than dawn when he wakes. Brooke has stopped playing and Sanji is shaking him and urging him to come for dinner. Chopper and Robin finally emerge into the twilight, exhausted and drawn, three hours later.
Now
* ka-chunk *
* ka-chunk *
* thunk *
That, Usopp thinks, is the sound of Zoro ceasing his idiocy. Except he’s jumped the gun a bit with that thought. Coughing, bone-jarringly deep, follows the impact of iron on the grass of Sunny’s deck. And that’s followed by the rather disgusting sound of Zoro spitting the blood that’s filled his mouth over the rail into the sea. Usopp’s on his feet now, the pellets he was supposed to be filling with various powders and vile liquids spilled from his lap. That patch of lawn will be bare for a few days as something foul smelling soaks in to the roots. The sniper flattens his spine against the sturdy Adam wood. It’s all he can do to keep from darting out and finding Chopper.
Zoro clears his throat and Usopp edges around to the side of the galley, unable to resist taking a peek even though he knows he won’t like what he sees. Sure enough, the back of one tan hand wears a smear of red as Zoro wraps his fingers around iron and hefts the weights up with a grunt he can’t quite bite back. As Usopp watches, features pulled down into a scowl at Zoro’s stubbornness and his own feelings of futility, the few scraps still wound around the swordsman’s torso give in to the strain. Old brownish spots gain new color, a scarlet made less vivid from the dried wash of the past beneath. If he knew Zoro wouldn’t break out of the sick room as soon as he was able, Usopp would have fetched the crew’s young physician an hour ago. But it’s nearly impossible to keep Zoro penned up without drugs and Chopper has been too afraid to risk many of the more effective ones given what a mess the swordsman’s insides are.
He can hear Luffy pestering Sanji for a snack from his spot plastered against the galley, feel the heat from the stove radiating through the walls and into his skin. Not that long ago the captain had trotted by and he’d stopped to watch Zoro. For half a second Usopp had hoped Luffy would talk some sense into Zoro, or rather, order him to rest. But instead all he’d done was stare, dark eyes bright as he watched. Zoro had slowed but not stopped and something had passed between them as he’d met Luffy’s gaze. ‘Captain,’ Zoro had said and Luffy had nodded once and then continued on his way.
Jealousy flares in Usopp as he remembers. Those two have an understanding that seems incomprehensible to him, a way of perfect communication without words. He doesn’t understand how it works, and that’s frustrating, but even more is how even now if Luffy had told Zoro to stop, the swordsman probably would have. Usopp doesn’t think that would happen should anyone else try. And that makes him a little heartsick and definitely envious. It’s an old affliction but it’s one he’s never quite been able to cure.
East Blue – The Straw Hats in Cocoyashi Village
It’s late, so late that in another hour or so the first hint of dawn should be blushing pink as it slips over the horizon. Usopp stands up slowly, the joints in his knees popping and his back twinging in protest. His butt hurts too, bruised from the tumble he’s just taken. If he has any sense, this should teach him an important lesson about the folly of sleeping on a precarious tower of tables, especially after he’d had a few too many drinks of the spiked punch. But, he suspects with a fondly rueful shake of his head, it will probably happen again in the not too distant future. Becoming a pirate seems to have this sort of effect on him.
He stumbles down the street, tripping over snoozing bodies and the remnants of a really good party. There isn’t much light; most of the bonfires and torches are spent and only a few flames gutter against the press of night. Usopp knows where he’s going though. He spent a good four hours there in the afternoon, biting his lip to keep back the sympathetic yelps and moans that Zoro’s too tough and stubborn to let free. The doctor’s office has a few spare beds and his bones could use the comfort of a mattress. He doesn’t need to check on the swordsman, Zoro’s the Demon of East Blue after all, and it’s just convenient that there are spare pillows nearby.
The office is very dark when Usopp closes the door behind him and the room is warm and smells faintly of booze and blood. The sniper kicks something as he carefully feels his way across the floor, sends it scurring over the wooden planks. Zoro’s steady snoring never falters, not even when Usopp manages to stub his toe hard on a metal bed frame and squeaks as he falls onto the welcoming mattress. It’s a reassuring noise and Usopp closes his eyes and just listens, the rise and fall of his chest soon unconsciously falling into the same rhythm.
Zoro, he thinks, is the craziest person he’s ever met and that’s saying something, seeing as they both follow after one Monkey D. Luffy. But he’s also probably the bravest and the most determined and there’s something about the single-minded way he pursues his dream and refuses to let anything stand in the way that Usopp can’t help but admire. He’d been frightened at first, when Zoro had told him to get aboard the ship Kaya had given her saviors, but then Luffy had named him a friend and besides, who in his right mind would disobey Roronoa Zoro? That’s been the only thing Zoro has ever asked of him thus far but sometimes the weight of his sharp green eyes seem to demand so much more. Yesterday had been the first chance Usopp’s felt he’s really had to live up to those unspoken expectations because, in saving Kaya, he hadn’t really had a choice.
A soft murmur cuts through Zoro’s snoring and Usopp’s thoughts. He blinks, the darkness much reduced now that his eyes have adjusted. There’s more than one lump of body sleeping in Zoro’s narrow bed and Usopp can just make out the way Luffy mutters in his sleep, burrows deeper into the curve of the swordsman’s shoulder. The vague sight stirs something in Usopp’s chest, a tightness that cuts off his air and makes something sour surface in his stomach. For a moment he doesn’t know who he envies more: Zoro for having a connection with Luffy he just can’t seem to match or Luffy for commanding Zoro’s respect and ignoring his personal space. He’s been, just a little, an outsider aboard the Going Merry. The pair of them already had a past together when he joined, a bond he couldn’t fully understand, and even though Sanji’s technically the new guy now, the blond somehow seems to have already found a niche for himself while Usopp’s still trying to figure out where he fits.
Usopp swallows back bitterness and rolls over. It’s Luffy he envies more, he knows, as he shuts his eyes again. Because Zoro does impossible things for Luffy and simply because Luffy asks him to. He had watched yesterday as Zoro’s guts nearly spilled out of his body, held up by Arlong’s strength and together only by the immeasurably greater power of his own will. And it was all so Sanji would have a chance to break Luffy free that Zoro was able to endure. That, and to keep the vow he’d made to two men, the one he wanted to beat and the one he’d chosen to serve. Roronoa Zoro, Demon of East Blue, is just too damned inspiring and sometimes Usopp thinks Luffy doesn’t know how very lucky he is to have him.
It’s something, Usopp swears with the weight of the darkness pressing against his eyelids and his heart heavy in his breast, that he won’t forget. Still, he thinks, the moment broken as someone – Zoro or Luffy, he can’t be sure – farts rather loudly and rustles the sheets, he won’t stop taking advantage of the swordsman’s strength or example either.
Aboard the Sea Train Rocket Man headed for Enies Lobby
Seeing everyone again, especially Luffy, Usopp wants to grin and cry at the same time. Luckily, no one has figured out that he’s there behind that mask and he lets Soge King take over, the superhero living the role Usopp’s always wanted but never quite been able to grasp. Luffy’s eyes go as big and round as saucers, a sure sign he’s buying everything, and Soge King’s voice drops for dramatic effect as he hands back over his autograph to the sparkling, dancing reindeer and points at his new fanboys’ chests. “Sniper Island is in your heart,” he says, and it’s the absolute truth.
Only a little while before, he’d discovered this for himself. The trunk on Puffing Tom had held a few of the masks favored by the denizens of Water 7 and there was something about the cheery yellow color and the trio of strong points of the one he’d picked out that had called to him. With shaking hands, Usopp had placed it over his battered face, fitting his nose and his goggles perfectly through the appropriate spots. Two sensations swept over him, a feeling of blessed anonymity that soothed the ragged remains of his pride and an overwhelming sense of calm strength.
The calm was welcome, easing the raging storm of his emotions and the roil of his thoughts. Two words echoed in a stage whisper inside his skull. “Soge King,” Usopp repeated, his voice gaining sonorousness as he rolled the syllables across his tongue. “Soge King.” It sounded perfect and an entire story and persona suddenly burst forth to vivid life in his mind. He cast about for the crowning touch, dragging a heavy curtain down to swirl about his neck. All superheroes need capes and Soge King had the best because it was red. Though his knees were still shaking, Soge King’s voice had been strong as he faced Sanji and Franky on the roof and he only felt more sure of himself as he made his way down the train.
Usopp was still there but he felt detached, removed and distant, and Soge King fought with flair rather than bluster. The only moment he felt himself surface was at the last, as he’d stared at Robin’s retreating back and told her to have to have faith in Luffy. The irony was almost overwhelming and it was only the mask that let the words come out but they were words Usopp believed in, rather than Soge King.
Aboard Rocket Man, Usopp is mostly gone. Soge King is in charge and he’s larger than life. It’s like the greatest lie Usopp has ever told, only he doesn’t really feel like he’s living an untruth. Soge King IS real, there, and Usopp’s subsumed in him. Soge King is strong and brave and can handle Luffy and the rest of the curly-haired sniper’s former nakama with an ease Usopp cannot fathom. And Robin lies ahead in a place almost too terrible to contemplate but Soge King will be able to march in with the rest and stand tall.
Now
* ka-chunk *
* ka-chunk *
*ka-chunk *
Zoro’s still at it, but at least the pace has halved. Usopp sidles back around the cabin to his abandoned busy work, drops down to prod at the damp, bleached-out grass where his chemicals spilled and soaked into the earth. He picks up his dropped ammunition idly, most of his attention on the steady rhythm of Zoro driving himself to the brink. Hollow metal spheres clink together as he shakes them in the cradle of his palm, matching the much deeper sound of iron on iron. There has to be a way to get Zoro to stop, Usopp thinks, and for an instant the knowledge of his mask and cape beneath the deck flashes through his mind.
Soge King would be strong enough to ask. Soge King is brave and powerful and the best sniper in the world. He transforms Usopp from what he is – at the moment a worried young man eavesdropping on his nakama and lover while he stares at the mess he’s made of the lawn – into someone else entirely. It’s a transformation that Usopp knows for sure would work to give him strength.
One Week Ago
The ‘Ghost Wrap’ attack from the ghost woman impacts on his body and Usopp drops to the floor. A part of him can scarcely believe this is happening. How did he go from pursuer to pursued, from victor to victim? Another part, the bit that let him survive the negative hollows that had brought his strong nakama low, chuckles bitterly in the back of his mind. He’s what he always is, a failure who can’t save his nakama, who always has to be the one rescued, who will be their downfall for real this time. The opportunity he’d been given, his moment of redemption, seems lost. The Straw-Hat pirates would have been better off if he had never made his frantic last-minute way aboard the Thousand Sunny. Usopp’s heart aches with this knowledge, with the feeling that he will be forever a burden. It’s what has plagued him all along. He’s just not good enough.
Fetid breath washes over him and the zombie bear looms, the ghost woman’s taunting only making his likely destruction hurt his pride even more than the wounds he carries. What more can he, Usopp, do? How will he survive? ‘Help me,’ he whispers in his mind. ‘Help me.’
Soge King leaps into action, the pain of his body of no consequence as he stuffs an explosive ball down the unfortunate zombie bear’s gullet. The ghost woman screeches as her minion collapses to the ground and Soge King disregards her ignorant comment about his mask. Usopp-kun needs his help and the superhero and ruler of Sniper Island never neglects his friends.
Usopp-kun is frightened, his heart racing a mile a minute. His fear is blinding him, sending him into a panic, and Soge King urges him to calm down, to focus on the moment. Usopp-kun is stronger than the lad believes, Soge King knows, even if he can offer no proof – or at least none that the fleeing sniper would accept. So he instructs his friend to think instead. Usopp-kun is very smart and clever and is in fact not terribly modest about that fact. If he’s too scared to stand and fight his way out, Soge King is sure that Usopp-kun can think his way to victory.
Usopp’s mind moves even faster than his pounding legs and his thundering pulse. He flashes back over the course of his fight and, even as another ‘Ghost Wrap’ sends him sprawling painfully on the flagstone floor, he has found his answer. Soge-King smiles in his mind, vanishing back to Sniper Island as the cheery, damaged mask goes flying from Usopp’s face. There’s a surety in his voice and his arm is steady as he pulls back on Kabuto. The ghost woman screams and Usopp grins as he releases. The wall comes crashing down and the truth is revealed.
Even the giant hollow ghost that’s summoned no longer terrifies him. Usopp has a way to stop the most immense attacks and he knows they work on devil’s fruit users. The proof isn’t something he likes to remember getting but for now it’s good enough to be sure. The immense force of the ‘Kamikaze Wrap’ is sucked into the Impact dial and Usopp looks back at his opponent. His trick has worked and the ghost woman is trapped. He can defeat her whenever he wants.
It’s nothing to take down another zombie with his Impact Dial. The ghost woman’s face gets impossibly pale and something in Usopp uncoils. It feels good to win, to have won because he’s clever. And to bring down a woman who thrives on fear and negativity with the same? That’s like having his cake and eating it too. Soge King would probably disapprove but he’s gone and Usopp has had a stressful night and more lies ahead. The cockroaches are just fun but the hammer, that’s a golden moment.
The balloon bursts and she faints and for an instant, the sweet taste of vindication fills Usopp’s mouth. He’s done it, he’s won, and he’s saved his nakama from having to face her negative hollows again. Usopp tucks away his props and leaves the room. His nakama are strong but perhaps in a place full of deception and illusion, the master of lies can still be of use.
Now
* ka-chunk *
* ka-chunk *
* ka-chunk *
The shadow of the mast stretches across Usopp’s patch of lawn now and Zoro’s still at it. The sniper feels a little sick to his stomach as he imagines what all this exercise has done to the swordsman’s healing body. Soge King, he decides, WOULD be strong enough to confront Zoro but he wouldn’t ask him to stop. That wouldn’t be a request the sniping hero could make. Soge King is akin to Zoro, to Luffy and Sanji and the rest of them. Soge King works through pain with a smile on his face and brave and cheerful comments falling from his lips. Soge King would understand why Zoro can’t bring himself to stop. Soge King would probably keep count and figure out a way to train too. In this instance, Soge King would be of absolutely no help to Usopp.
Who would ask? Chopper has tried, three times already today, but there must be something about Zoro that has kept the little reindeer from his usual measure of resort for stubborn bastards. The tranquilizer gun hasn’t made an appearance even though Usopp figures that the doctor’s hooves have probably been itching for it. Luffy won’t, nor Franky. And Zoro rarely listens to Sanji and the cook’s been avoiding him since they left Thriller Bark. Robin and Nami are girls. They don’t understand half the time how a man’s pride works. But even though Usopp thinks it’s something far more than pride spurring Zoro on, he can’t bring himself to imagine asking either woman. Brooke might work, what with the skeleton being a swordsman and all, but he’s also insane and Usopp’s still not sure how to approach him. The only one left is himself.
Absent fingers scoop up supplies, drop them in his bag. Usopp stares blindly over the waves, lost in the memory of the shadows in Zoro’s eyes two days ago, the blank way he’d stared over the sniper’s shoulder as he moved. Whatever’s haunting the swordsman is what’s driving him now and Usopp doesn’t think he can stand to let it last, to let it bring Zoro to his knees. It doesn’t matter how hurt he’d felt as he was pushed away, how confused. It doesn’t matter if Zoro ignores him or curses at him or tells him to go away. It only matters that he try, that he do the one thing that only he can do. Zoro is their nakama and he may be Luffy’s second in all but name but Usopp’s the one who loves him, the one who knows what Zoro’s voice sounds like in the dark, the flavor of his sweat. Usopp stands up and his knees are steady, his palms dry. Zoro has saved him many many times from many many things. This time, it’s Usopp’s turn. He has to save the swordsman from himself.
* ka-chunk *
* ka-chunk *
Iron ceases to ring on iron as Usopp walks towards Zoro. The swordsman pauses, massive weights lowered close to the deck. Zoro’s green eyes are glassy as Usopp meets them and something in him twinges at the sight. Long, clever, slightly smelly fingers wrap around one tanned wrist and the sniper lays his other hand over bloody bandages, soaks in the too-fast thrum and strain of Zoro’s heart. “It’s time,” Usopp says gently, “to stop.”
Rating: R
Pairing: ZoSopp with Luffy vaguely tossed in
Word Count: 5412
Spoilers: Through 485-486
Notes: A weird-ass piece of fanfic that worked much better in my head. I had in mind that teenagers are clueless morons sometimes and that those who push past the limits have to keep pushing, even if just to find the new boundaries.
Now
* ka-chunk *
* ka-chunk *
* ka-thunk*
The rhythm’s off, faltering slightly, and Usopp would swear up and down that his ears twitched at every unsteady beat. He’s technically spying, eavesdropping really, but when all he can hear is the sound of iron on iron and the occasional snarl and grunt it can’t really count as anything even vaguely untoward. Besides, someone needs to keep an eye, or rather an ear, on the fool.
It’s been six days since Sanji carried Zoro, unconscious, broken and bloody, out from the edge of the forest and shoved him into a shocked and sobbing Chopper’s arms.
Two Days Ago
There’s a strange blankness to Zoro’s face, something dark and almost haunted that lurks in his eyes as he moves and it makes Usopp’s chest feel tight, as if a steel band has encircled his heart and is slowly shrinking, squeezing him until his blood roars in his ears and his head feels far too heavy atop his neck.
Zoro moves, slow and jerky and oddly mechanical, and his lip curls up in a silent sneer when Usopp gingerly slides his hands under the firm muscles of his ass and gently tries to take up some of the swordsman’s weight. But he doesn’t say anything and he sags a little into Usopp’s hold and when the sniper’s calloused fingers press into bruised and aching flesh by accident he even sighs out a quiet moan even though Usopp immediately shifts his hands back to relative safety.
Half the bandages are gone, ripped off because they were hindering Zoro’s movement and because his skin was itching where some of the surface cuts and scrapes had begun to scab over. Chopper will be mad but Zoro doesn’t care. He’s not dead yet; there’s no reason for him to be wrapped up as tightly as some mummy in a tomb. Usopp thinks he should try to slap some of the gauze and cotton back on and he wishes Zoro had left them be. There doesn’t seem to be a single spot on the swordsman that isn’t damaged. His flesh is in tatters, a motley patchwork of bruises so deep they reach broken bones and a variety of varying degrees of slices, nicks, and stitched together skin. Zoro looks like a bomb went off inside his body and made a building fall on him at the same time. He should still be unconscious (‘Really,’ a small and evil little voice inside Usopp’s head says, ‘he should be dead.’) or at the very least propped up in bed, not kneeling on the couch in the men’s room of the Thousand Sunny with a cock up his ass.
Usopp had said no, had refused and demurred and tried to beg off about thirty times – really – but Zoro had insisted, demanded with a hand fisted far too tightly in the sniper’s shirt. And Usopp’s seventeen and the swordsman’s other hand had been unrelenting, rubbing circles into Usopp’s groin and staring into Usopp’s eyes with such a fiercely desperate expression that he’d finally had to relent. He’d thought, in the back of his mind where he tried to rationalize the guilt that shot through him as he stared at Zoro’s battered form and the angry flush of his dick against all the scarlet-speckled white wrapped around his stomach, that maybe the swordsman needed an affirmation, proof that he was still alive, that he’d be okay.
But once they’d started, once Usopp had eased into the heat of Zoro’s body, it had all gone strange. There is none of the usual fire, nothing of teasing fingers or a smirking mouth, not even a gentleness to match the necessary slowness of their pace. If it weren’t for the snug warmth around his cock and the desire he can’t help but always have for the swordsman, Usopp would have gone soft long ago and put an end to whatever it is Zoro is trying to do. But he has a teenager’s hormones and Zoro looks so odd, so off, that Usopp’s afraid not to see whatever this is until the end.
Zoro’s knuckles scrape against Usopp’s stomach and wet warmth splatters over the sniper’s ribcage. Zoro pauses, sucks in a breath, but he pushes Usopp back against the couch when the sniper tries to pull free, unfinished. Clenching, rippling muscles drag an orgasm out of Usopp two minutes later but it’s probably the least satisfaction he’s ever felt. Still, he leans up to press a kiss to the hard line of Zoro’s mouth. The swordsman’s lips barely give and he pulls away, heaving himself up and off of Usopp’s lap.
That hurts but not as much as the muffled groan and shrug Zoro gives moments later, Usopp’s arm flinching back from where he’d attempted to wrap it around the swordsman. It stings, like a pepper star to the face, and Usopp blinks rapidly a few times before he stands up. Zoro has always, to the sniper’s secret delight, been a cuddler after sex. But this time he turns Usopp away, his eyes resolutely closed and the line of his jaw tight. Usopp drapes a blanket over him and pulls his overalls back up. He leaves Zoro behind and only silence follows him.
It all feels very very wrong.
Six Days Ago
Chopper kicks them all out of the only room with a roof still overhead but Robin, a first aid kit dredged up and given to Nami to help them patch themselves up as best they can, while the little reindeer tackles a much larger job. He lets Robin stay. He needs her hands, so many more than just his two, to staunch far too many bleeding wounds and help him with his surgery. Zoro had looked worse than all of the zombies on Thriller Bark, little better than tenderized meat, and the brief glimpse Usopp had seen had made him nauseous. He wanders away from the rest of them; unable to stomach Luffy’s attempts at cheerfulness or all the blood on the shirt Sanji has yet to change. The ruins of Moria’s mansion surround him, scattered furniture reminding him of nothing so much as a giant child throwing a tantrum and upending a dollhouse. That’s pretty apt, Oz being even more simplistic than their captain, but with Zoro so near to death, the comparison seems utterly terrible. It’s all been terrible, lately, and Usopp finds an upended chair amid the debris and rights it, collapses into it as if his knees have given out.
Aokiji, Water 7, Merry, Enies Lobby, his last-second reunion during Garp’s bombardment. Usopp rests his head in his hands and squeezes his eyes shut against the memories that pour in and pound in his skull. He hadn’t been lying when he’d told Luffy on that wretched day aboard Sunny that he’d known that he could never catch up to him, to Zoro and Sanji and even Chopper, Robin, and Nami. It had seemed so true at that point and his confidence had always been more blustery bravado than real. But the bonds of nakama had been strong, stronger even than his gallant little ship in the end, and so he had caught up as best he could.
Soge King is as great in his own way as Zoro and Sanji. He is the king of all snipers and a brilliant hero. It’s strange what’s going on in his head, Usopp knows, but in some ways Soge King feels more real and alive than he does. Soge King has burned the World Government’s flag and pulled off shots that no other person on earth could accomplish. Soge King is brave and strong and true and when he speaks, he is sure of himself without even a hint of Usopp’s stuttering courage. Soge King is many things that Usopp is not and for a while he had considered leaving the mask on permanently. Zoro had asked, as Luffy set the flaming torch to Merry, if he could endure. Behind the painted wood, Usopp’s eyes had been brimming and his voice was thick as he replied that he was fully prepared.
It had been a lie, the only one Soge King had ever told. Usopp hadn’t been ready, not completely, and he had been far too much himself behind the mask. Merry had led to Soge King, to the biggest and most terrible fight he’d ever known. And Merry had been his secret and his special nakama for the longest time, his connection to his far-away home and a more innocent age. If Merry couldn’t make it, how could he? But Merry had taken that final step all alone and left them all in awe and gratitude. Usopp could do nothing less. He had Merry to live up to and the nakama Merry had loved he loved as deeply and strongly as well. It had just taken an entirely-too-close-call to make him realize how true that was.
Zoro had told him that first night on the Thousand Sunny that it had been his order not to let the sniper aboard without an apology. Those words, spoken so calmly, had reopened the barely closed wound in his heart that had been open and gaping ever since he’d lost their Skypiea money to Franky. But Zoro’s face had been drawn, dark circles under his eyes proof that the swordsman hadn’t been sleeping, and his fingers had dug in bone-deep as he grabbed Usopp by the shoulder as the sniper had turned, stunned, to walk away. More words had tumbled out, gruff with emotion the swordsman rarely let out. Strong words, words worthy of Luffy as he spoke about the meaning of trust and nakama and the faith he had in all of them, that they had to have in order to survive what surely lay ahead. At the time, Usopp had only been able to nod, head swimming with it all and his bleeding heart numb. Two days later, he’d stayed in bed while the rest of his nakama got up. Zoro had come down from his late watch and the slow grin that flowered on his face when Usopp shoved his blankets down and beckoned had finished the job of healing the sniper’s heart that the swordsman’s words had started. A week later they sailed into the Florian Triangle.
The strains of a violin drift over the rubble and Usopp slowly raises his head. Brooke is playing something soft and slow, his bow dragging across the strings as he walks closer. It’s not sad but Usopp feels moisture gather at the corners of his eyes anyway. He wipes the back of his hand over his face and looks at Brooke. The skeleton looks back, the hollow black pits of his eye sockets far more expressive than they have any right to be.
“You look as downhearted as I feel,” the musician says. “Except I don’t have a heart.”
“Skull joke,” Usopp replies dully, stealing the newly familiar line. He doesn’t think he can bear to hear Brooke trying to cheer him up, not when he doesn’t have the strength to summon a single mask to hide behind. Even Soge King would have nothing to say. Moria, Oz, that mysterious Kuma; the Straw Hats have never fought so hard as a team before and yet Zoro could still die. Could never wake up, could wake up crippled despite Chopper’s best efforts. All the terrible possibilities Usopp’s been trying to ignore threaten to swamp him and he blanches.
“Indeed.” Brooke’s voice is gentle and the music stops as he lays a bony hand on Usopp’s shoulder. His touch is feather-light and much too brief. He says nothing more, just rights another chair and settles into it as he resumes playing. The notes of an old lullaby wash over Usopp and he closes his eyes and tries not to think.
It’s closer to dusk than dawn when he wakes. Brooke has stopped playing and Sanji is shaking him and urging him to come for dinner. Chopper and Robin finally emerge into the twilight, exhausted and drawn, three hours later.
Now
* ka-chunk *
* ka-chunk *
* thunk *
That, Usopp thinks, is the sound of Zoro ceasing his idiocy. Except he’s jumped the gun a bit with that thought. Coughing, bone-jarringly deep, follows the impact of iron on the grass of Sunny’s deck. And that’s followed by the rather disgusting sound of Zoro spitting the blood that’s filled his mouth over the rail into the sea. Usopp’s on his feet now, the pellets he was supposed to be filling with various powders and vile liquids spilled from his lap. That patch of lawn will be bare for a few days as something foul smelling soaks in to the roots. The sniper flattens his spine against the sturdy Adam wood. It’s all he can do to keep from darting out and finding Chopper.
Zoro clears his throat and Usopp edges around to the side of the galley, unable to resist taking a peek even though he knows he won’t like what he sees. Sure enough, the back of one tan hand wears a smear of red as Zoro wraps his fingers around iron and hefts the weights up with a grunt he can’t quite bite back. As Usopp watches, features pulled down into a scowl at Zoro’s stubbornness and his own feelings of futility, the few scraps still wound around the swordsman’s torso give in to the strain. Old brownish spots gain new color, a scarlet made less vivid from the dried wash of the past beneath. If he knew Zoro wouldn’t break out of the sick room as soon as he was able, Usopp would have fetched the crew’s young physician an hour ago. But it’s nearly impossible to keep Zoro penned up without drugs and Chopper has been too afraid to risk many of the more effective ones given what a mess the swordsman’s insides are.
He can hear Luffy pestering Sanji for a snack from his spot plastered against the galley, feel the heat from the stove radiating through the walls and into his skin. Not that long ago the captain had trotted by and he’d stopped to watch Zoro. For half a second Usopp had hoped Luffy would talk some sense into Zoro, or rather, order him to rest. But instead all he’d done was stare, dark eyes bright as he watched. Zoro had slowed but not stopped and something had passed between them as he’d met Luffy’s gaze. ‘Captain,’ Zoro had said and Luffy had nodded once and then continued on his way.
Jealousy flares in Usopp as he remembers. Those two have an understanding that seems incomprehensible to him, a way of perfect communication without words. He doesn’t understand how it works, and that’s frustrating, but even more is how even now if Luffy had told Zoro to stop, the swordsman probably would have. Usopp doesn’t think that would happen should anyone else try. And that makes him a little heartsick and definitely envious. It’s an old affliction but it’s one he’s never quite been able to cure.
East Blue – The Straw Hats in Cocoyashi Village
It’s late, so late that in another hour or so the first hint of dawn should be blushing pink as it slips over the horizon. Usopp stands up slowly, the joints in his knees popping and his back twinging in protest. His butt hurts too, bruised from the tumble he’s just taken. If he has any sense, this should teach him an important lesson about the folly of sleeping on a precarious tower of tables, especially after he’d had a few too many drinks of the spiked punch. But, he suspects with a fondly rueful shake of his head, it will probably happen again in the not too distant future. Becoming a pirate seems to have this sort of effect on him.
He stumbles down the street, tripping over snoozing bodies and the remnants of a really good party. There isn’t much light; most of the bonfires and torches are spent and only a few flames gutter against the press of night. Usopp knows where he’s going though. He spent a good four hours there in the afternoon, biting his lip to keep back the sympathetic yelps and moans that Zoro’s too tough and stubborn to let free. The doctor’s office has a few spare beds and his bones could use the comfort of a mattress. He doesn’t need to check on the swordsman, Zoro’s the Demon of East Blue after all, and it’s just convenient that there are spare pillows nearby.
The office is very dark when Usopp closes the door behind him and the room is warm and smells faintly of booze and blood. The sniper kicks something as he carefully feels his way across the floor, sends it scurring over the wooden planks. Zoro’s steady snoring never falters, not even when Usopp manages to stub his toe hard on a metal bed frame and squeaks as he falls onto the welcoming mattress. It’s a reassuring noise and Usopp closes his eyes and just listens, the rise and fall of his chest soon unconsciously falling into the same rhythm.
Zoro, he thinks, is the craziest person he’s ever met and that’s saying something, seeing as they both follow after one Monkey D. Luffy. But he’s also probably the bravest and the most determined and there’s something about the single-minded way he pursues his dream and refuses to let anything stand in the way that Usopp can’t help but admire. He’d been frightened at first, when Zoro had told him to get aboard the ship Kaya had given her saviors, but then Luffy had named him a friend and besides, who in his right mind would disobey Roronoa Zoro? That’s been the only thing Zoro has ever asked of him thus far but sometimes the weight of his sharp green eyes seem to demand so much more. Yesterday had been the first chance Usopp’s felt he’s really had to live up to those unspoken expectations because, in saving Kaya, he hadn’t really had a choice.
A soft murmur cuts through Zoro’s snoring and Usopp’s thoughts. He blinks, the darkness much reduced now that his eyes have adjusted. There’s more than one lump of body sleeping in Zoro’s narrow bed and Usopp can just make out the way Luffy mutters in his sleep, burrows deeper into the curve of the swordsman’s shoulder. The vague sight stirs something in Usopp’s chest, a tightness that cuts off his air and makes something sour surface in his stomach. For a moment he doesn’t know who he envies more: Zoro for having a connection with Luffy he just can’t seem to match or Luffy for commanding Zoro’s respect and ignoring his personal space. He’s been, just a little, an outsider aboard the Going Merry. The pair of them already had a past together when he joined, a bond he couldn’t fully understand, and even though Sanji’s technically the new guy now, the blond somehow seems to have already found a niche for himself while Usopp’s still trying to figure out where he fits.
Usopp swallows back bitterness and rolls over. It’s Luffy he envies more, he knows, as he shuts his eyes again. Because Zoro does impossible things for Luffy and simply because Luffy asks him to. He had watched yesterday as Zoro’s guts nearly spilled out of his body, held up by Arlong’s strength and together only by the immeasurably greater power of his own will. And it was all so Sanji would have a chance to break Luffy free that Zoro was able to endure. That, and to keep the vow he’d made to two men, the one he wanted to beat and the one he’d chosen to serve. Roronoa Zoro, Demon of East Blue, is just too damned inspiring and sometimes Usopp thinks Luffy doesn’t know how very lucky he is to have him.
It’s something, Usopp swears with the weight of the darkness pressing against his eyelids and his heart heavy in his breast, that he won’t forget. Still, he thinks, the moment broken as someone – Zoro or Luffy, he can’t be sure – farts rather loudly and rustles the sheets, he won’t stop taking advantage of the swordsman’s strength or example either.
Aboard the Sea Train Rocket Man headed for Enies Lobby
Seeing everyone again, especially Luffy, Usopp wants to grin and cry at the same time. Luckily, no one has figured out that he’s there behind that mask and he lets Soge King take over, the superhero living the role Usopp’s always wanted but never quite been able to grasp. Luffy’s eyes go as big and round as saucers, a sure sign he’s buying everything, and Soge King’s voice drops for dramatic effect as he hands back over his autograph to the sparkling, dancing reindeer and points at his new fanboys’ chests. “Sniper Island is in your heart,” he says, and it’s the absolute truth.
Only a little while before, he’d discovered this for himself. The trunk on Puffing Tom had held a few of the masks favored by the denizens of Water 7 and there was something about the cheery yellow color and the trio of strong points of the one he’d picked out that had called to him. With shaking hands, Usopp had placed it over his battered face, fitting his nose and his goggles perfectly through the appropriate spots. Two sensations swept over him, a feeling of blessed anonymity that soothed the ragged remains of his pride and an overwhelming sense of calm strength.
The calm was welcome, easing the raging storm of his emotions and the roil of his thoughts. Two words echoed in a stage whisper inside his skull. “Soge King,” Usopp repeated, his voice gaining sonorousness as he rolled the syllables across his tongue. “Soge King.” It sounded perfect and an entire story and persona suddenly burst forth to vivid life in his mind. He cast about for the crowning touch, dragging a heavy curtain down to swirl about his neck. All superheroes need capes and Soge King had the best because it was red. Though his knees were still shaking, Soge King’s voice had been strong as he faced Sanji and Franky on the roof and he only felt more sure of himself as he made his way down the train.
Usopp was still there but he felt detached, removed and distant, and Soge King fought with flair rather than bluster. The only moment he felt himself surface was at the last, as he’d stared at Robin’s retreating back and told her to have to have faith in Luffy. The irony was almost overwhelming and it was only the mask that let the words come out but they were words Usopp believed in, rather than Soge King.
Aboard Rocket Man, Usopp is mostly gone. Soge King is in charge and he’s larger than life. It’s like the greatest lie Usopp has ever told, only he doesn’t really feel like he’s living an untruth. Soge King IS real, there, and Usopp’s subsumed in him. Soge King is strong and brave and can handle Luffy and the rest of the curly-haired sniper’s former nakama with an ease Usopp cannot fathom. And Robin lies ahead in a place almost too terrible to contemplate but Soge King will be able to march in with the rest and stand tall.
Now
* ka-chunk *
* ka-chunk *
*ka-chunk *
Zoro’s still at it, but at least the pace has halved. Usopp sidles back around the cabin to his abandoned busy work, drops down to prod at the damp, bleached-out grass where his chemicals spilled and soaked into the earth. He picks up his dropped ammunition idly, most of his attention on the steady rhythm of Zoro driving himself to the brink. Hollow metal spheres clink together as he shakes them in the cradle of his palm, matching the much deeper sound of iron on iron. There has to be a way to get Zoro to stop, Usopp thinks, and for an instant the knowledge of his mask and cape beneath the deck flashes through his mind.
Soge King would be strong enough to ask. Soge King is brave and powerful and the best sniper in the world. He transforms Usopp from what he is – at the moment a worried young man eavesdropping on his nakama and lover while he stares at the mess he’s made of the lawn – into someone else entirely. It’s a transformation that Usopp knows for sure would work to give him strength.
One Week Ago
The ‘Ghost Wrap’ attack from the ghost woman impacts on his body and Usopp drops to the floor. A part of him can scarcely believe this is happening. How did he go from pursuer to pursued, from victor to victim? Another part, the bit that let him survive the negative hollows that had brought his strong nakama low, chuckles bitterly in the back of his mind. He’s what he always is, a failure who can’t save his nakama, who always has to be the one rescued, who will be their downfall for real this time. The opportunity he’d been given, his moment of redemption, seems lost. The Straw-Hat pirates would have been better off if he had never made his frantic last-minute way aboard the Thousand Sunny. Usopp’s heart aches with this knowledge, with the feeling that he will be forever a burden. It’s what has plagued him all along. He’s just not good enough.
Fetid breath washes over him and the zombie bear looms, the ghost woman’s taunting only making his likely destruction hurt his pride even more than the wounds he carries. What more can he, Usopp, do? How will he survive? ‘Help me,’ he whispers in his mind. ‘Help me.’
Soge King leaps into action, the pain of his body of no consequence as he stuffs an explosive ball down the unfortunate zombie bear’s gullet. The ghost woman screeches as her minion collapses to the ground and Soge King disregards her ignorant comment about his mask. Usopp-kun needs his help and the superhero and ruler of Sniper Island never neglects his friends.
Usopp-kun is frightened, his heart racing a mile a minute. His fear is blinding him, sending him into a panic, and Soge King urges him to calm down, to focus on the moment. Usopp-kun is stronger than the lad believes, Soge King knows, even if he can offer no proof – or at least none that the fleeing sniper would accept. So he instructs his friend to think instead. Usopp-kun is very smart and clever and is in fact not terribly modest about that fact. If he’s too scared to stand and fight his way out, Soge King is sure that Usopp-kun can think his way to victory.
Usopp’s mind moves even faster than his pounding legs and his thundering pulse. He flashes back over the course of his fight and, even as another ‘Ghost Wrap’ sends him sprawling painfully on the flagstone floor, he has found his answer. Soge-King smiles in his mind, vanishing back to Sniper Island as the cheery, damaged mask goes flying from Usopp’s face. There’s a surety in his voice and his arm is steady as he pulls back on Kabuto. The ghost woman screams and Usopp grins as he releases. The wall comes crashing down and the truth is revealed.
Even the giant hollow ghost that’s summoned no longer terrifies him. Usopp has a way to stop the most immense attacks and he knows they work on devil’s fruit users. The proof isn’t something he likes to remember getting but for now it’s good enough to be sure. The immense force of the ‘Kamikaze Wrap’ is sucked into the Impact dial and Usopp looks back at his opponent. His trick has worked and the ghost woman is trapped. He can defeat her whenever he wants.
It’s nothing to take down another zombie with his Impact Dial. The ghost woman’s face gets impossibly pale and something in Usopp uncoils. It feels good to win, to have won because he’s clever. And to bring down a woman who thrives on fear and negativity with the same? That’s like having his cake and eating it too. Soge King would probably disapprove but he’s gone and Usopp has had a stressful night and more lies ahead. The cockroaches are just fun but the hammer, that’s a golden moment.
The balloon bursts and she faints and for an instant, the sweet taste of vindication fills Usopp’s mouth. He’s done it, he’s won, and he’s saved his nakama from having to face her negative hollows again. Usopp tucks away his props and leaves the room. His nakama are strong but perhaps in a place full of deception and illusion, the master of lies can still be of use.
Now
* ka-chunk *
* ka-chunk *
* ka-chunk *
The shadow of the mast stretches across Usopp’s patch of lawn now and Zoro’s still at it. The sniper feels a little sick to his stomach as he imagines what all this exercise has done to the swordsman’s healing body. Soge King, he decides, WOULD be strong enough to confront Zoro but he wouldn’t ask him to stop. That wouldn’t be a request the sniping hero could make. Soge King is akin to Zoro, to Luffy and Sanji and the rest of them. Soge King works through pain with a smile on his face and brave and cheerful comments falling from his lips. Soge King would understand why Zoro can’t bring himself to stop. Soge King would probably keep count and figure out a way to train too. In this instance, Soge King would be of absolutely no help to Usopp.
Who would ask? Chopper has tried, three times already today, but there must be something about Zoro that has kept the little reindeer from his usual measure of resort for stubborn bastards. The tranquilizer gun hasn’t made an appearance even though Usopp figures that the doctor’s hooves have probably been itching for it. Luffy won’t, nor Franky. And Zoro rarely listens to Sanji and the cook’s been avoiding him since they left Thriller Bark. Robin and Nami are girls. They don’t understand half the time how a man’s pride works. But even though Usopp thinks it’s something far more than pride spurring Zoro on, he can’t bring himself to imagine asking either woman. Brooke might work, what with the skeleton being a swordsman and all, but he’s also insane and Usopp’s still not sure how to approach him. The only one left is himself.
Absent fingers scoop up supplies, drop them in his bag. Usopp stares blindly over the waves, lost in the memory of the shadows in Zoro’s eyes two days ago, the blank way he’d stared over the sniper’s shoulder as he moved. Whatever’s haunting the swordsman is what’s driving him now and Usopp doesn’t think he can stand to let it last, to let it bring Zoro to his knees. It doesn’t matter how hurt he’d felt as he was pushed away, how confused. It doesn’t matter if Zoro ignores him or curses at him or tells him to go away. It only matters that he try, that he do the one thing that only he can do. Zoro is their nakama and he may be Luffy’s second in all but name but Usopp’s the one who loves him, the one who knows what Zoro’s voice sounds like in the dark, the flavor of his sweat. Usopp stands up and his knees are steady, his palms dry. Zoro has saved him many many times from many many things. This time, it’s Usopp’s turn. He has to save the swordsman from himself.
* ka-chunk *
* ka-chunk *
Iron ceases to ring on iron as Usopp walks towards Zoro. The swordsman pauses, massive weights lowered close to the deck. Zoro’s green eyes are glassy as Usopp meets them and something in him twinges at the sight. Long, clever, slightly smelly fingers wrap around one tanned wrist and the sniper lays his other hand over bloody bandages, soaks in the too-fast thrum and strain of Zoro’s heart. “It’s time,” Usopp says gently, “to stop.”
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I'm so glad you enjoyed it!
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Just. There are no words. I love you. Oh my god, yes, yes I do.
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Okay, I'll leave you alone now. :D ♥♥
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you can stop insane swordsmen from damaging themselves further!And for some reason, I really liked the little bit with Brook at the beginning too. Maybe I just have a soft spot for the skeleton, but he's such an old soul, literally, that you've got to wonder how he feels being on a crew with a bunch of kids and watching them go through so many emotional ups and downs.
*uses vastly inappropriate icon but it's the only one I've got with Zoro and Usopp on it* ;_;
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And Usopp needs to make sure he remembers that he's just as good as Soge King, even if in a different way. I LOVE what Oda's playing with in that area but I hope it never becomes a crutch for Usopp either. Poor sniper, he just needs to give himself more credit.
I really like Brook and I have to agree with you. What can he be thinking? And how much is filtering through his lingering issues (insanity) from being alone with his dead for so long?