[Setting: Future AU – Married, age 40]

Characters: Sanji (private chef/restaurateur), Zoro (kendo instructor)

The aroma of smoked garlic and thyme drifted lazily through the open-air bistro, a tiny slice of peace tucked away in a quiet Tokyo side street. The sign read "Le Diable Bleu", hand-painted in cursive by the owner himself. Inside, the kitchen hissed and roared with life, flames flickering with every motion of the blond-haired chef who danced behind the counter with graceful precision. Sanji.

He had filled out with time—broader in the shoulders, sharper in the cheekbones—but that golden hair still fell past his collarbones in soft, effortless waves. It was his signature. Just like his food.

Zoro watched from his usual spot near the counter, arms crossed, still wearing his kendo gi. Sweat clung to his temples after a long day at the dojo, but he hadn’t missed a single dinner here in nearly ten years.

That night, however, something was off.

Zoro’s single visible eye narrowed as he saw a man at the bar leaning far too close. The customer had been unusually chatty, praising the food more than necessary—but it wasn't until the compliments shifted to Sanji's appearance that Zoro tensed.

"..And your hair,"

the man said, his grin widening as he gestured toward the blond strands.

"it’s almost unreal how soft it looks. Mind if I...?"

Zoro moved before Sanji could even react. In one swift step, the former swordsman appeared at Sanji’s side, a sake bottle in hand. He didn’t speak—his presence alone carved silence into the moment like a blade. His eyes locked on the man, cold and unreadable.

Then, without a word, he grabbed Sanji’s arm, pulled him in—and wrapped both arms around him.