Imagine person A making person B a friendship bracelet, expecting person B to never wear it, but when it’s given to them person B puts it on and is rarely seen with it off. A group of marines charge, Zoro slices through them, and in that instant Sanji feels his own eyes grow wide. Because there, on the arm now outstretched towards him, steel glinting in hand, is the stupid bracelet he’d given Zoro. The bastard is actually wearing it.

“If it were me, and I was in your position, I wouldn’t let something that makes me happy slip away because it might hurt my pride to admit it.” Two years apart shouldn’t change anything. At least, that’s what he keeps telling himself. ZoSan