Straw Hat Castaways: The Marimo and the Shit Cook's 72 Hours
When a violent storm tears through the Grand Line, Zoro and Sanji are ripped from the Thousand Sunny and washed ashore on a desolate, uncharted island in the lawless Graveyard of the Calm. No ship. No crew. No way to call for help. Just the world's worst combination—a directionally challenged swordsman and a hotheaded cook—stranded together with nothing but seawater, silence, and each other's company.
With only three days to survive before a Navy patrol might pass by, the two must scavenge for
Straw Hat Castaways: The Marimo and the Shit Cook's 72 Hours - Adrift — The Marimo and the Shit Cook
The waves washed over his ankles.
Cold. The instant he thought it, Roronoa Zoro's consciousness snapped fully awake.
"...Ngh."
His lungs burned. Had he swallowed seawater? Coughing, he pushed himself upright, and his vision filled with white sand and, beyond it, a gray sea. The sky was thinly overcast in every direction, the wind lukewarm, carrying a faint, sickly-sweet smell.
Zoro's hand went first to his hip. Three swords. Wado Ichimonji, Sandai Kitetsu, and one more. All there. He confirmed their weight, then slowly exhaled.
He was soaked through. His white shirt clung to his skin, and his haramaki was heavy with water. The three gold earrings on his left ear clinked softly each time he moved his neck.
A few meters away, another man lay collapsed.
His black suit was sodden with sand and seawater. Blond hair plastered to his face, and the cigarette he'd been holding had snapped and stuck to his lips. The man with one eye hidden behind his hair—Sanji—let out a low groan at almost the same moment Zoro sat up.
"...Damn. This is the worst."
Sanji wiped his face roughly and flung the broken cigarette toward the sea. He searched his pockets, but his spare cigarettes were, of course, soaked through. He clicked his tongue once and glared up at the sky with blue eyes.
"Hell of a joke, getting blown off by a storm and landing on a beach. This ain't funny, Marimo."
"Who the hell's a Marimo? More importantly—what happened to the ship?"
Zoro stood, brushing off the sand. His tall frame cast a shadow across the beach. He glared out at the sea with sharp black eyes, but there was nothing on the horizon. No ship, no crewmates—not even a sail in the distance.
Sanji stood too, dusting the sand off his suit. His lean, tall body shivered in the salt wind. He emptied the water from his shoes and let out a small breath.
"...Can't see a thing. You remember anything?"
"I got thrown into the sea partway through. I tried to grab you, but the waves were too high."
As he said it, Zoro unconsciously opened and closed the fingers of his left hand. He'd definitely grabbed something back then. But before he knew it, he'd been washed up alone on the beach.
"Same story for me, more or less. I saw you go over, tried to dive in after you, and a huge wave took me from behind."
Sanji pulled a seawater-soaked pack of cigarettes from his pocket, checked the contents, and grimaced. All ruined. He set the whole pack down on the sand and heaved a deep sigh.
The waves crept up to their feet and pulled back again.
A lukewarm wind passed between the two of them.
For a while, neither spoke.
The silence said everything. Their crewmates weren't nearby. No ship in sight. They'd washed up on some island.
Zoro silently scanned their surroundings. Beyond the beach was a thicket of low trees, and far off to the left, rocky ground. The island was smaller than he'd expected. As far as he could see, there was no sign of anyone.
Sanji muttered, almost to himself.
"...This place is probably the graveyard of the calm."
"The graveyard of the calm?"
Zoro furrowed his brow. Sanji pushed his wet blond hair back and turned toward the sea.
"The Central Calm sea zone. The magnetism's all wrong—a Log Pose won't budge. The currents run clockwise, and the eye of the storm just sits there. Navy patrols only come a few times a year. It's a lawless blank spot on the map. ...Worst possible place to wash up."
"You sure know a lot, for a pervy cook."
"Who's a pervy cook? I've got more in my head than you do, you shitty Marimo. It's basic knowledge for a sailor."
Sanji picked up a twig in place of his broken cigarette and put it between his lips. It wasn't lit. Just a habit.
Zoro watched him out of the corner of his eye, hand resting on his swords, and turned his gaze toward the interior of the island.
"First, water and food. Can you move, shitty cook?"
"Can you even walk straight with that sense of direction of yours? Be grateful—I'll guide you."
"I've never once gotten lost in my life."
"Hah? How many times do you think you've gotten lost by now, you lost Marimo? You can't even tell which way's which on the ship."
The two of them stepped off the beach into the low thicket. The sand underfoot gave way to soil, and the smell of damp grass grew stronger. The woods were dim, sunlight filtering through the trees in dappled patches.
After walking a while, they came to a spot where several low, palm-like trees stood in a row.
Sanji spotted the fruit and stopped.
"Oi, look. Kagerou nuts."
Sanji climbed the tree and pulled down several green nuts. He rolled them in his hand, sniffed them, and clicked his tongue.
"...Astringent. Can't eat these raw."
"Can't eat 'em?"
"Heat 'em and they're edible. The astringency cooks out, but I make no promises about the taste."
Sanji stuffed the nuts into his suit pockets and looked around some more.
"We need water too. There should be a spring in the center of the island. Judging by the terrain, this island isn't volcanic. High chance water's seeping from cracks in the bedrock."
"Since when's a cook a geologist?"
"Nami-san taught me on the ship. Unlike you, I actually listen when people talk."
Zoro walked silently behind Sanji.
Past the woods, they came out onto a small hill. At its base, water trickled from a crack in a moss-covered rock. Sanji approached, scooped some up, and tasted it.
"...It's drinkable. Not bad."
Zoro knelt on one knee and took a mouthful too. Cold, faintly sweet. His throat came back to life.
The two of them sat down there and drank for a while.
The sky was still thinly overcast, and the wind had died.
The island was quiet.
No birdsong. No insects. Only the sound of the waves, far away.
"...For now, we camp here tonight. Let's find a cave."
"Yeah. I'll go check the rocks first."
"Don't get lost, Marimo."
"I won't get lost."
Zoro stood and walked off toward the rocky ground.
Sanji watched his back for a moment, as if he wanted to say something.
But he said nothing.
At the rocks, Zoro gathered driftwood that had washed ashore. He drew one sword and whittled a suitable branch into a simple spear. Small shellfish clung to the tide pools among the rocks. He picked up a few and lined them up on the stone.
Then he sat down and began to sharpen his sword.
He had no whetstone. Instead, he picked up a hard stone from the rocks and slowly slid it along the blade. The sound—shh, shh—echoed, mingling with the waves.
His short green hair swayed in the salt wind.
The long scar running from his left chest to his right side stood out pale beneath the dim sky.
This was a wound carved on the road to becoming the world's greatest swordsman.
Zoro closed his eyes.
His promise to Kuina.
I will become the world's greatest swordsman.
For that, he couldn't afford to stop here.
As the sun began to sink, Sanji came back from the woods. In his hands were several Kagerou nuts wrapped in large leaves.
"Oi, Marimo. Get a fire going. We're roasting these."
"You do it."
"I've got my hands full with prep. Just light the fire, you caveman."
Zoro stood, looking annoyed, and built a fire from the driftwood. He struck stone against the back of his sword, throwing sparks. After several tries, the fire finally caught.
The flames of the bonfire lit up the dim beach.
Sanji peeled the nuts and laid them on a flat stone to roast.
"The astringency burns off with heat, but scorch them and they turn bitter. Low flame, nice and slow."
Sanji's hands were genuinely practiced. He watched the heat, flipped the nuts, and now and then checked their firmness with his fingertips.
Zoro watched his hands in silence.
That was a cook's work.
After a while, Sanji arranged the roasted nuts on a leaf.
"Here, eat. Don't expect much in the way of flavor."
Zoro took one and put it in his mouth.
...It really wasn't good. The astringency was gone, but the flavor was bland and the texture powdery.
Still, it filled the belly.
"...It's edible."
"Damn delicious, right?"
Sanji laughed.
Zoro reached for a second one, then noticed the number of nuts in front of Sanji was small.
In front of Sanji: two small ones.
In front of Zoro: four large ones.
"...What about your share?"
"I'm not hungry. I'm a cook, remember. Taste-testing's enough for me."
Sanji said it and slowly bit into one of the small nuts.
Zoro stared at Sanji's face.
Sanji didn't meet his eyes.
"...Feeding the hungry—that's what a cook does."
"You're hungry too, aren't you."
"I'm fine. Besides, if the great swordsman doesn't keep his strength up, he won't be able to swing his blade when it counts."
Zoro started to say something.
But he stopped.
Instead, he pushed two of the nuts in front of him toward Sanji.
"This is plenty for me. You eat the rest."
"Hah? I went out of my way to give you extra, why're you giving it back?"
"If you don't eat, don't come crying to me when you collapse later. I don't need a dead weight."
"Who's dead weight, you shitty Marimo? You're the one who'd better not wander off with that sense of direction and get yourself stranded."
"I'm telling you, I've never gotten lost!"
The two of them glared at each other for a while.
But in the end, Sanji gave in.
"...Tch, fine. I'll eat, all right? I'll eat."
Sanji tossed two nuts into his mouth.
Zoro ate the rest.
Only the crackle of the fire echoed quietly.
Night came.
They found a cave on the north shore and decided to spend the night there.
The cave was deep, and the area just inside the entrance was dry—good for a fire. At high tide the entrance would apparently flood, but for now it was fine.
Sanji sat with his back against the cave wall, and Zoro kept watch by the fire near the entrance.
Outside, calm jellyfish glowed pale blue across the surface of the sea.
That light cast a faint glow at the mouth of the cave.
"...Hey, Marimo."
Sanji spoke, quietly.
"It's only when I'm fighting with you that I can forget about the All Blue."
Zoro didn't answer.
He just moved his hands, searching for firewood to feed the flames.
"Until I reach that sea, I'm always thinking about it. The All Blue. What kind of sea it is, what fish live there, what it smells like. ...But when I'm messing around with you, I can forget about it for a moment."
Sanji hugged his knees and stared into the fire.
The firelight flickered across his blond hair.
"What's your dream, Marimo?"
Zoro was silent for a while.
He fed wood into the fire.
Crack, crack—small sounds.
"...The world's greatest swordsman."
Short, and nothing more.
Sanji gave a small laugh.
"...That's so you. It suits you."
Then silence fell again.
But it was a slightly softer silence than before.
Somewhere in the back of his mind, Zoro was turning Sanji's words over.
It's only when I'm fighting with you that I can forget about the All Blue.
...Maybe it's the same for me.
Zoro didn't say so.
Late at night.
Sanji had fallen into a shallow sleep, still leaning against the wall.
Keeping watch by the fire, Zoro looked toward the back of the cave.
The cave forked in two, and the depths sank into darkness.
Zoro stood, took a burning branch in hand, and stepped into the back of the cave.
It was deeper than he'd expected. The floor was dry, and thin stalactites hung from the ceiling.
After walking a while, he spotted a rotting wooden box against the wall.
Zoro crouched and examined it.
The lid was rotten and crumbled at his touch.
Inside was a single piece of animal hide.
Zoro took it out and held it up to the firelight.
It was a sea chart.
Quite old. The hide was dry and cracked in places.
But the lines drawn on it remained clear.
And in the corner of the chart, handwritten words.
"The Road to the All Blue."
Zoro's eyes widened slightly.
He flipped it over.
Carved into the back was a strange crest.
A spiral, and crossed swords.
...He'd seen it somewhere before.
Zoro searched his memory.
But he couldn't recall.
Still, something stirred deep in his chest.
S
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