Summary Of ' The Galley Late Night '

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The galley late at night is silent as a graveyard, and as dark. Zoro sits on one side of the dining table and Sanji sits on the other, across from him. Outside, there is the creak of the ship, the sway of the sea, moonlight and stars and snow, but between them, in here, there is nothing but the exhalation of Zoro’s breath.

Zoro does not remember how many days have passed. Sanji is looking somewhere in the distance, absently tapping his bottom lip with his fingers, and Zoro is watching him, always watching now, but it is dark, and the moonlight does not fall in a way that illuminates anything.

Sanji tosses into the silence: “I can’t keep up.”

Zoro crosses his arms; the sheaths of his swords tap softly against the chair leg. He means it when he says, “I can carry you too.” Of this, he is confident. Dreams, after all, are never a burden; nakama, after all, are always held close, and Sanji is nakama, in the end.

Sanji is pale, statuesque. “I don’t have a white katana to give you. I don’t have anything to give you.”

There is a quiet resignation in Sanji’s voice that Zoro does not expect, and it inexplicably makes him want to punch the wall and rage until the ship is in shambles, Sanji at the epicenter. But Zoro only grits his teeth and waits, and when Sanji turns to look at him, the whites of his eyes are startling in the shadows, and Zoro feels a painful tightening in his chest, at the very core of this madness.

“I don’t need anything from you,” Zoro grounds out, in vain,

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