Chapter Text
“FIRE! FIRE!” A deafening shout from the saute station cuts through the ambience of the kitchen like a hot knife through butter. Idle conversation trails off into silence and the rhythmic tap tap tapping of knives chopping vegetables for the evening service slows to a stop. Waitstaff balancing plates on their arms halt in their paths in and out of swinging doors. Unintelligible chatter leaking in from the dining room and the quiet sizzle of hot pans make up the only remaining noise in the kitchen.
Every staff member is at attention with their eyes fixed to the source of the shout, frozen. Every staff member, that is, except that of the sous chef’s– still dutifully working at his station.
Fluorescent lights beat down onto the stainless steel countertops, making the kitchen feel like an operating room. Sterile. Rigid. Professional. The warmth coming from the cast iron pan in front of him was the only source of comfort in a room utterly devoid of personality. Even the uniforms each of them wore bore no individuality. Adorned in white chef jackets and skull caps, the back of house staff were exactly what one would think of if they had to imagine a “restaurant kitchen”.
The only proof of a beating heart was an old picture or two by the back office. And they typically blended into the nearby wall of daily cleaning checklists.
Sanji doesn’t hear the word that was shouted at first. He stood a mere couple of yards away from the shout and didn’t even blink, lost in his thoughts. Shouts are not uncommon in the kitchen of the Baratie– though with Carne and Patty taking a rare night off, this evening is uncomfortably quiet. They made up most (or as he was now realizing, all) of the random outbursts. Sanji thought he would enjoy the silence. Instead, he found himself spiraling without the distraction. Calm and quiet, as it turned out, was dangerous.
His dead gaze was on the sauce in front of him, stirring it with a wooden spoon and dissociating. In third person, he watches as hands that looked like his own went through the motions. Add chopped shallot to the pan, then the grated garlic– cook until fragrant, thirty seconds. Throw in a sprig of rosemary. Add a spoon of butter. Deglaze with a cabernet… Blah, blah, blah. He could make a red wine reduction in his sleep. With his hands tied. Maybe his legs, too.
The Baratie, as good as it paid, didn’t give him much freedom to work off-menu. Who knew that when he worked himself to the bone at culinary school for six long years, he would be stuck making the same washed-up dishes for the rest of his life? He became a chef to scratch a creative itch, not serve the same damn filet mignon to the bourgeoisie night after night. But… that was how the restaurant got a Michelin star. Zeff knew a little bit about what he was doing, even Sanji had to admit.
It still never made him wear his executive chef’s jacket like a badge of honor– these days, it felt like a straight jacket with pens in the front pocket. No money in ‘playing with his food’ as Zeff once called it when he attempted to workshop an idea in the Baratie’s kitchen after hours.
His notebooks full of ideas sat collecting dust on his bookshelf back at his apartment. True, he could always experiment in his own kitchen. But these days when he returned home, he couldn’t bring himself to turn on the stove for anything other than boiling pasta for butter noodles. He’d even stooped so low as to microwave TV dinners for himself. The less time he spent in his home kitchen, the better.
Sanji inwardly shudders at the thought. Who had he become?!
The imaginative spark that ignited his passion for cooking had been snuffed from the cruel reality of the food industry. He refused to be a starving artist– he’d starved once before. Never again.
This was his world now and he just needed to accept it. Or so he tells himself.
Sanji snaps back to reality and looks over his shoulder when he hears a stampede of nonslip shoes race by him. It was a simple mistake, really. The new line cook they had hired last month– Koby, if Sanji remembered correctly– was pacing in front of the saute station and rambling incoherently with his hands in his hair as a pan sat ablaze in front of him. A grease fire from the look of it.
Kitchen fires were nothing new; the blonde sous chef would be a liar if he denied starting his own myriad of them through the course of his career. Working with heat day in and out, it came with the territory. The key was knowing how to put them out. Promptly.
“Fuck! Where’s the fire extinguisher again?!” A new waitress, Perona, cries before frantically looking around in every direction, dropping her dishes back onto the pass with a clatter. She practically floats around the counters in no particular direction to look for the extinguisher, strands of pink hair falling out of her prim ponytails.
The fire was manageable and looked far more intimidating than it was. Sanji had seen worse. It narrowly touched the range hood and wasn’t veering off in any one direction.
Yet.
The burn was nearly as even as one of the candles out in the dining room. Still, Koby stood petrified in front of his station, the light of the fire reflecting off of his round blue glasses as he stared up in terrified awe. The rest of the staff crowded behind him, fidgeting and just as helpful as Koby was.
…That being, not at all.
Have any of these people actually worked in a kitchen before tonight?! Sanji thought, sighing through his nose and closing his eyes. He takes a deep breath to steel himself, wishing he was taking a drag instead of inhaling the simmering red wine before him. Leaving the sauce on low to reduce, he quickly switches gears from chef to kitchen manager.
“Why the hell is everyone just standing around?!” He shouts at the frozen kitchen staff. “Is this your first time in a kitchen?! Do they not teach anyone shit in culinary school anymore?”
The flock of new hires stares at him wide-eyed, straightening their spines at his sudden, furious lecture. Sanji quickly realized that maybe they hadn’t learned the very basics of fire safety. That, or they didn’t work well under pressure. Regardless of the reason, it was now his responsibility to educate them for the sake of the Baratie. He calmed himself before he continued, his voice less searing this time.
“This is a textbook grease fire. All you do for this kind of fire is turn off the heat and-”
Sanji’s attention was turned to the gathered employees for mere seconds as he spoke. His plan was simple: briefly address the room first, then give them a hands-on tutorial on the basics of putting out kitchen fires and have everyone return to their stations.
But it turned out to be seconds too long. Koby had taken a spray hose from the sink nearby and shot at the grease fire, eyes wide with terror. Sanji hadn’t even heard him move.
“Water beats fire, right?! Like in Pokemon!” He laughs nervously with a trembling hand on the trigger.
The world slows down in an instant. Sanji’s one visible curly eyebrow raised in alarm. His heart began to beat in his chest with the familiar sensation of adrenaline. The cold water hit the pan.
Fuck.
What could have easily been snuffed in seconds exploded into a fireball of epic proportions.
Sanji, standing way too close, felt the fire singe the tips of his hair before he took several hurried steps backward. Amidst the chaos that was stewing, his eyes shifted to the hood over the stove. The automatic overhead fire suppression wasn’t working. Why wasn’t it working? Tonight of all nights when both Patty and Carne were off and he was left with a pack of greenhorns?! He couldn’t think about that right now. Crisis mode engaged.
“Someone get the damn fire extinguisher!” Sanji barks, looking for Perona. She was on her hands and knees, far from where it was mounted to the wall by the office. Despite the intensity of the situation, he facepalms.
“It’s on the damn wall, Perona!” He calls, and he sees her jolt when her name is called.
“Oh! Sorry!”
The rest of the staff finally are inspired to move, for better or for worse, and run towards the other extinguishers located around the kitchen.
He covers his face with the white sleeve of his jacket and tries to duck in to take over once the initial blast stops. His face scrunches against the heat as he gets closer. He could see the flames already catching onto paper towels and several greasy rags near the blast zone.
That’s okay. It’s still under control-
“I-I know! My grandma said once you could do this for a fire-” A meek voice stammers.
Before Sanji could even take a breath to respond, a short girl with red glasses and a bobbed haircut cuts in. She threw a fist full of flour onto the burning pan and hurled the kitchen into further turmoil. The fire used the extra fuel to reach the ceiling, igniting into a slow burn across the entire kitchen.
“Putain-” Sanji swears under his breath, doubling back again. His eyes widen as the flames dance towards the overhead lights. Fire and lightbulbs did not mix. A handful of them burst with a snap and everyone ducked and scattered away from the falling glass.
Koby and the flour girl (Tashigi? Sanji was definitely not in the business of remembering names right now) both looked like they might die from mortification before the fire ever got to them. Koby finally thawed and ran to the kitchen phone to dial 911 and Tashigi fell to her hands and knees on the tiled floor.
Her glasses clattered on the ground in front of her and tears splattered down after. She was mumbling a string of apologies not addressed to anyone in particular, her face obscured behind her hair.
Zeff was undoubtedly going to kill every single person in this room when he returned from France, starting with his sous chef. Sanji, trying to keep a calm expression, stooped down to jostle Tashigi out of her episode.
“It’s not the time to break down.” He mutters to her softly, putting a gentle hand on her shoulder and leaning forward to grab the arm of her glasses.
Tashigi sniffs and takes her glasses back from him, wiping her eyes with her sleeve vigorously before returning them to her face. Sanji loops an arm around her and helps her to her feet as the fire catches further, covering his face when they both are straight on their feet.
“Okay. Listen! Everyone!” Sanji says muffled through his sleeve. Many members of the staff are already throwing their coats on with car keys in hand, ready to run out of the back fire exit.
“Don’t leave yet! We have to evacuate the dining room! Please tell me you all remember the fire preparedness training?!” Silence answers him for a few agonizing seconds. Sanji feels a headache coming on, and it’s not from smoke inhalation.
“Man, you know none of us paid attention during that! Chef Zeff talked for like four hours! We didn’t think-“ Bartolemeo, the bussboy’s, hands were in his green hair in exasperation and his eyes were wild.
Sanji was on the verge of screaming. His face hardens, jumping into action.
“Fine. Anyone who’d just get in the way, leave by the route posted on the emergency board by the sink. Those of you who give a damn, come help me clear these tables before the restaurant burns to the ground! Please!”
Sanji doesn’t even bother changing from his chef attire to his blazer or looking behind to see if anyone followed. They have to act fast.
The fire had overtaken the saute and fry stations and was halfway through the prep stations by the time they burst through the doors leading to the dining room. Sanji and a handful of faithful staff did their best to remain calm. Tashigi and Koby are right behind him, as well as Perona and a taller blonde waiter with his hair in a man bun.
…Cabbage? No. Sanji mentally shakes his head. To hell with remembering names right now.
They scatter strategically across the dining room to cover as much ground as possible. Hopefully Koby had handled the emergency call properly. If he hadn’t… Sanji didn’t want to think about it.
“Madamoiselle,” Sanji says, leaning towards the table closest to the blazing fire, a lone woman in a red dress and pearls sitting and enjoying her wine and charcuterie with a book. The lady raises her eyebrows at him and smiles over the lip of her glass.
“Oh, aren’t you a doll-” She begins to talk, and normally Sanji loves a playful, harmless flirt. But he has to cut her off. He chuckles smoothly before speaking with a smirk that he can’t help.
“Beautiful, I ask that you remain calm, but we do have a situation at the moment, and-”
As if the night could possibly get worse. It finds a way.
“FIRE! FIRE! EVERYONE RUN!” One of the chefs who had been prepping ingredients bursts out into the dining hall, keys jingling in his hand and shoving his jacket on. Smoke followed behind him in his path when the swinging doors opened, launching a thick, dark, billowing cloud into the fray.
Why would he not just leave out the back like the rest of them did?! A bead of sweat forms on Sanji’s temple. From the heat of the fire or the adrenaline, he didn’t know. His calm facade falters.
The lady he had been talking to shrieks and stands abruptly, splashing her wine on Sanji’s jacket before sprinting towards the doors on tall heels, leaving her likely expensive coat and purse behind.
The rest of the packed dining room erupted into absolute chaos. Stunned patrons looked around before they stood and screamed, shoving each other out of the way and creating mayhem in every direction. Like most nights at the Baratie, the dining room had been fully booked for this turn. Every table had been seated, despite it being considered a slower night.
And there were a lot of tables.
The kitchen door left wide open didn’t do them any favors. Greedy tongues of flame licked into the dining room unimpeded, spreading towards the velvet curtains and staking claim in the big room. Everyone was trying to head towards the front doors instead of the fire exits, panicked.
“There are fire exits to the back of the-”
Sanji tried shouting, but it was lost amongst the screams of the crowd. He was jostled by patrons shoving him aside, ending up pressed against the wall as every guest tried leaving out of the same few doors.
The few tables that his loyal staff had managed to brief before shit hit the fan went through designated fire exits, but it was not nearly enough. And now the fire alarm triggered by the doors opening had begun to shriek. The earsplitting sound was not helping Sanji’s stress.
Maybe now was an appropriate time to scream. Why weren’t the fire sprinklers going off either?!
Smoke began to fill the room as the fire tore through aggressively. The tablecloths were the next casualty. Candlelit dinners only fueled the fire more, as the flames found pieces of themselves on every table and the fire spread like, well… wildfire.
The emergency department hadn’t arrived yet.
Now Sanji was holding back a fit of nervous laughter as he stood still and took in the situation. This Thursday evening’s dinner was supposed to be one of their slower nights— why Sanji had insisted that both Patty and Carne, the most dependable chefs he’d ever known, take the same night off. What he wouldn’t give to have those two at his side right now. Most night shifts he could handle on his own. This was not one of those nights.
The dim lightbulbs in the dining room began to burst from the heat of the flames and Sanji covered his head, ducking out of the way of falling glass with his face scrunched and eyes squeezed tight.
A handful of people had frozen to their seats or hid under their tables. The professionals would be here soon enough, but he had to do something. He tried his best to look put together as he sauntered over to them. He knew he didn’t pull it off.
“Good evening, lovely ladies and gentlemen!” Tension was evident in his shoulders as he addressed several tables at once with a flourish, trying (and failing) to pretend like nothing was wrong.
“As you are no doubt aware, we have an emergency situation on our hands– if you will allow me–”
His hand was between the shoulder blades of a nearby brunette woman in pink sitting at a table with her family, encouraging her to stand up. The motion was interrupted by yet another outburst.
“EVERYONE MOVE THEIR ASSES! DON’T YOU KNOW WHO I AM? LET ME THROUGH!” A portly man with greased-back black hair shouted from the front of the restaurant, banging on the glass door in desperation. The brass revolving door that stood as the focal point of the building looked like it had stuck, and the manual doors were jammed up with too many people trying to force their way through at once.
Sanji’s stomach dropped. The crowd began to push in on itself and sandwich people. Screaming grew louder. Children cried. Men were grabbing chairs to try and smash through the glass.
As the dining room reaches a fever pitch, Sanji sees flashing lights through the glass at the front of the restaurant. Finally, he thinks, feeling a splash of relief. He can’t even hear the fire alarm at this point. All he can hear is his heartbeat thundering in his throat.
A handful of guests knock him to his ass as they rush by. The smoke is thickening as the fire claims more territory, the haze starting to obscure his vision.
Sanji doesn’t even begin to think about the extent of the damage. His breathing is becoming labored as he inhales more smoke every passing second. He starts to stand to make his own escape out of a fire exit when he hears a quiet whimper.
He turns his head towards the noise. A table to his right that hadn’t been set alight yet. But it was close. Another whimper, like a squeak of a mouse.
Sanji inches forward and lifts the fabric, revealing two giant plum-purple eyes brimming with tears staring back at him.
“Daddy? Mommy?” A girl no older than five in a lime green dress, hair up in pigtails, was cowering under the table. Tears streaked her cheeks and her lip trembled. She was curled up close to one of the legs of the table, clutching it for security. In the background, the fire department is shouting commands and has taken charge. The crowd is becoming marginally quieter. People must be leaving and calming down now that the emergency department has arrived.
Sanji crawls halfway under the table to join the little girl.
“It’s alright, tiny mademoiselle. What’s your name?” Sanji always had a way with children– it was one of his hidden talents– despite not interacting with them often.
The girl sniffled, coughing lightly from the smoke.
“Tama.” She said only her name, lip quivering.
“Tama? You’ll have to excuse my disrespect, I didn’t realize that we had a royal princess in our dining room this evening– I would have prepared the horsedrawn carriage and red carpet!”
Tama smiled weakly at him through her tears before wiping them away with the sleeve of her dress. She hiccuped in an attempt to stop crying.
“I’m not a princess.” She says quietly with a sniffle.
“Ah, my mistake.” Sanji holds out a hand to the little girl. “Your parents are probably worried sick. We have to hurry out of here, Miss Tama.”
Tama pauses for a painful moment before hesitantly taking his hand. They both crawl out from under the table. The dining room has cleared out and the fire department was scurrying in with hoses to try and tame the raging inferno and salvage what they could. It was a lost cause. Sanji knew it. If the Baratie even still stood after this fire, it wouldn’t be opening again for quite some time, if ever. Yep. Zeff is going to draw and quarter Sanji and throw his remains into the sea.
“Hey. You two.” A gruff, muffled voice to his left barks.
Sanji is halfway to standing up with Tama’s hand in his, jumping at the sudden sound. It’s one of the firefighters wearing a breathing apparatus. He wants to yell instinctively but the tiny, rational part of him that’s still alive holds his tongue.
Sanji stands up straight, looking into the masked man’s face. It’s hard to see clearly through the thick smoke. They stand about the same height, though the thick boots of his uniform make the firefighter a few inches taller. All he can see are two eyes boring back into his own. The smoke makes it hard to tell what color eyes the man has.
Sanji begins to speak but is pushed back down to the floor by his shoulder unceremoniously. Now he might actually yell.
What is up with every single person I talk to interrupting me tonight?!
“What the hell was that for?!” His voice is hoarse and he coughs. Right. He’s inhaled a metric ton of smoke. He kept forgetting.
Still, he glares up at the blunt fireman with his hand still holding Tama’s.
“You never heard of ‘stop, drop, and roll’ in Kindergarten?’” The fireman muffles not so kindly. Courtesy is on the backburner tonight, it seems. Sanji scoffs.
“That’s advice for if your clothes are on fire, jackass!” He coughs again and the man actually chuckles. Fucking chuckles. In this situation.
Sanji is lightheaded but wants to wring this man’s neck.
“Same logic. Stay close to the ground.” His eyes linger on Tama and he crouches down. “I’ll get her out of here quick. You crawl to the doors. Someone will come back in after you if you take too long.”
Tama looks the fireman up and down, biting her lip in fear. More tears well up in her eyes and she clings closer to Sanji’s side, his sleeve in her fist.
“Hey, hey-“ Sanji mutters. They don’t have time for this. His vision is becoming hazy and he knows that she likely isn’t doing much better.
“I know it’s scary, but you have to be brave right now, okay? Be a… bewitching ninja!” He says a random thought as he squeezes her hand reassuringly. Her eyes bore into his.
“He’ll get you to your family, Tama. I’ll be right behind you. Promise.”
Tama still looks unsure, but without any more hesitation, the man scoops her up and protects her face with his large arm, shielding her from more smoke as he hurries towards the doors faster than Sanji could ever hope to move in his condition.
He can hear a cry of relief coming from outside on the sidewalk. Now to get himself in motion, even though no one out there will be nearly as thrilled to see him.
He begrudgingly crawls through the mess of chairs and tables that have been pushed around in everyone’s rush to leave the dining room. Glass is shattered everywhere from tables being toppled over and he has to carefully place his hands to keep them from being cut. One hand in front of the other. He’s nearly there.
His eyes sting from being in the smoky room for so long and he can hear more than he sees. Heavy boots scuffle around him and he hears voices communicating rooms being cleared. A hose dragging through the room. The dining hall is the final room they’re working through, expertly searching for any stragglers, the crew staying close to the ground in a sweeping motion.
Sanji approaches the entrance to the restaurant and he hears a strangled sob. He glances up, yards away from the open door and halfway to standing. Tama is attempting to run back inside, held back by her father.
“My teddy!” She’s trembling, fighting with all of her strength, eyes shut tight in her efforts to break free. She looks more afraid now than she did when she was still in danger.
“Honey, Kuma is gone, maybe they’ll find him once they put the fire out- you can get a new-“ Her father tries to calm her down. Poorly.
“I DON’T WANT A NEW ONE!” Her high pitched screech can be heard several blocks away, even over the constant noise of the busy downtown street. Fog puffs out of their mouths from the chill of the late October evening setting in.
Sanji freezes. He shouldn’t do it. He really, really, should just walk out of the restaurant and take a head count of his staff and make sure everyone is accounted for. Text or call the people who already left. He should leave the building to the professionals. It’s only a bear.
He turns around and doubles back to the table on all fours.
“HEY! STOP!” He hears a voice snap at him from somewhere within the proximity of the charred kitchen. Sanji keeps his head down, eyes squinted against the smoke as he searches for the same table he had been at just a few minutes before.
“DID YOU HIT YOUR HEAD OR SOMETHING, TOO?” The voice is closer behind him. He reaches the table that Tama had been hiding beneath. Ignoring the approaching voice, he pokes his head underneath the white linen. He’s dangerously close to collapsing, but he wills himself to stay conscious for a few moments longer.
There. He crawls forward a few inches and reaches out, fingers grasping a fluffy foot by the leg of the table. Its dopey smile peers up at him, a little silk bow tie sewn under his chin. Sanji grins stupidly. The smoke has made him a little loopy.
“Even the bear got dressed up.” He thinks to himself, snickering.
Strong hands grab him by the ankles and rip him out from under the table, his back against the tiled floor as he looks up into a masked face.
“Never! Never run back into a fire for anything! Are you stupid?!”
The same firefighter from before is looming over him on fall fours with his hands on either side of Sanji’s head, simultaneously irritated and concerned. He looks at the bear clutched in Sanji’s hand, eyes squinting in annoyance behind his mask. The cook doesn’t have a retort. It would be a waste of oxygen.
Without another thought, the fireman pushes up to his knees and grabs Sanji’s arm in a swift motion, standing up to carry him in a fireman’s carry over his shoulders.
If Sanji weren’t seconds away from passing out, he might swoon.
They rush out of the building, straight past the ambulance that’s already overwhelmed with people, to the firetruck with lights still flashing brightly against the thick night. He roughly sits Sanji down on the edge of the truck and steadies him by the shoulders. A handful of other emergency workers that arrived on the scene were talking to the people who were inside. Policemen stood around with their notebooks and took statements and directed traffic in front of the Baratie. EMS were tending to patrons who needed it the most– luckily, most had evacuated in time before any real harm came to them.
“Oxygen.” The mask, helmet, and hood come off, revealing his savior’s unamused face, messy green hair, and deep scowl. If he weren’t such an asshole (and if Sanji wasn’t delirious), Sanji might argue that he was handsome. Three golden earrings hung from his left ear and reflected all the lights illuminating the sidewalk. He was staring.
Two other members of the crew rush in with a blue first aid bag– a short boy in a pink hat and light brown hair who was far too young to be doing this job, and a man with greasy black hair and freckles. They’re both also donned in firefighter attire, though not as geared up as the others who were still clearing the building. They wore tight navy crewnecks and only the pants of the uniform.
Sanji’s eyes wander over the chest of who he is mentally calling ‘freckles’. Again. If he had the strength right now, he would be swooning. Freckles catches his wandering eye and can’t help but snort a laugh as the smaller boy digs through the bag of emergency supplies.
An oxygen mask is strapped to his face in his daze. He couldn’t see it from the inside, but the fire was shooting out of several windows from inside and the flames licked up the side of the building towards the roof.
All Sanji can do is stare. His livelihood is literally going up in smoke. But his mind is still occupied. His stupid quest was not yet completed.
He holds the bowtied bear to the greenhaired asshole with a shaky hand. Grey eyes stare back at him, dumbfounded.
“Yeah. Nice bear.” He responds after a few seconds of processing, eyes returning to the roaring inferno. He’s carefully watching the crew work with impressive efficiency. Orange lights from within are beginning to dim as flames are doused bit by bit. Sanji attempts to take a deep breath in frustration, but it’s nothing more than a wheeze and he coughs on the exhale.
“Tama… the… Little girl…” He manages to get out, his voice sounding foreign to him from behind the oxygen mask. Sanji was usually one to talk a mile a minute. Hearing his cadence slow to a mere word every few seconds was a bit unnerving, even to himself. He hoped he didn’t irreversibly fuck up his lungs with his reckless stunt.
Mostly because he, ironically, could really use a cigarette right about now. A whole pack.
A blanket covers his shoulders. The shorter crew member stood by his side, giving him a quick exam to save the EMTs some time. Was the fire department using child labor now? He had to have been a medic, given his appearance. He didn’t look like he was used to any action other than caring for casualties. The green haired man is looking back at him again, eyebrows furrowed.
“Zoro, I think he means that the bear belongs to that little girl who is actively screaming?” The small medic pointed out, causing ‘Zoro’ to turn his head.
Tama was sitting on the rear step of the ambulance while two men struggled to get a mask around her head. It took a herculean effort with the way she was flailing her limbs. Her parents were apologizing repeatedly while trying to calm her down.
Zoro turns without a word and firmly takes the bear. He walks with purpose to the ambulance like he’s about to put out a house fire all on his own. Intimidation oozed from him, especially if you were a child. Tama quieted down when he stood in front of her. Then, he kneeled.
With surprising gentleness, Zoro held the bear out to her.
“... This yours?” He mumbled gruffly, not making eye contact.
Tama looked at what he held in his large hand, stunned for a couple of moments. Then her tears of relief began to flow, ripping her bear from his hands and clutching it close to her chest and somehow screamed even louder in glee and relief.
“Kuma!” She cried behind her oxygen mask. One of the men, wearing a hat with a toy penguin perched on top, gives Zoro a silent thumbs up. The other, an orca-shaped hat atop his own head, was having much better luck checking her oxygen levels without her tiny limbs fighting him with the strength of a thousand men. How were kids always so deceptively strong?
“You’re a lifesaver. Truly. What is your name? I-” Tama’s father had come up to him, shaking his hand vigorously.
Zoro cuts him off and shakes his head, taking his hand back and wiping it on his chest.
“It wasn’t me. The chef went back in after him. Stupidly.” He admits, nodding his head backwards towards the truck. Tama and her father look to where the tall blonde sat on the bumper of the fire engine, weak.
Sanji manages to give Zoro a weak nod in gratitude as his vision starts to fade.
“Thank… you…”
Then, he passes out.