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EPISODE 06 : THE CHEF & THE CHORE BOY ( stories from shimotsuki village )
FROM THE DEPTHS of her crooked heart, anjali felt a stronger sense of fear for the first time in a while.
it wasn't the type of fear she had felt within the well, seeing merry's limp body and lifeless eyes. this was a different fear, one where roronoa zoro's palms were cold and anjali couldn't feel his warmth anymore.
she felt like a curse. always making the people around her suffer, draining them and slowly undoing them until there was nothing left but hollow skin.
anjali was left a conflicted mess, years worth of hatred and anger down the drain the second she saw even a flash of hurt in zoro's big brown eyes. much resolve she held against the man.
the pirate hunter was laid across a table, anjali's palms on the fabric tied to his chest to stop the blood from seeping out from the wound.
"anjali." nami's soft voice was by her ear, her gentle hands prying anjali off zoro. "can you let us see the wound?"
the copper haired woman nodded, shakily removing the bloody cloth and unbuttoning his shirt. she gasped at the sight of the long gash across his chest.
"somebody needs to go to baratie." nami said, peering at the wound from behind anjali's shoulder.
"this really isn't a time for eating, nami." luffy said.
"no, i meant maybe one of the customers is a doctor!" she replied exasperatingly, staring at the slow-witted straw hat.
"right. a doctor." he muttered, and left to baratie.
anjali didn't know how long she stared at zoro, lying there on the table, before someone gently guided her to a chair.
"they'll save zoro." luffy patted anjali on the shoulder, his eyes still filled with optimism.
anjali nodded silently, watching the two chefs from baratie do their work. her gaze soon directed to her green haired companion, her eyes filling with tears.
this was shimotsuki village all over again. only this time, anjali was the one to blame for him ending up the way he was. for pretending to not care when all she did was care, for turning her back to zoro when she could've helped him instead.
for all the things she should've done, and all the things she didn't do.
anjali took notice of the dried blood on her hands. it had seeped below her fingernails, the color of rust splattering onto her arms and clothes.
she only mindlessly trailed behind the crew as they brought zoro back to his room, placing his head on a pillow. anjali watched his calm face, her shaky fingers reaching up to touch his green hair.
