[ he knows how to time the focus of his haki, to shield the skin of his leg to the precise hardness that would endure the ravaging strength of zoro's defending strike. because this is their language, the kind they never could really get the translation right for their few battles together but that speaks so effortlessly now, even after the weeks they've spent apart.
sanji's choice to leave the group on zou hadn't shattered it, not entirely, even if he could feel the cracks of that rhythm when zoro's sword meets his shin.
though it doesn't quite feel like hesitation, not from someone like zoro, it does feel like a different kind of restraint, one that he knows he forced upon him. ]
If anyone's holding back, it's you, shitty swordsman.
[ focusing the haki to centralize on that defensive spot on his leg, he gathers the strength of it into a stronger burst, capable of pushing zoro's swords back, a motion that seems to match with a moment in the song that builds into a fortissimo. it allows sanji's leg to swing back around, bringing both feet back to the ground, though it doesn't stop him in motion as he moves to rush in again, challenging the other man's swords into an ongoing clash where every collision of boot and steel makes its own music, swaying of legs and arms forming a ballet.
this is me, he thinks. it's still me. i'm still here. ]
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sanji's choice to leave the group on zou hadn't shattered it, not entirely, even if he could feel the cracks of that rhythm when zoro's sword meets his shin.
though it doesn't quite feel like hesitation, not from someone like zoro, it does feel like a different kind of restraint, one that he knows he forced upon him. ]
If anyone's holding back, it's you, shitty swordsman.
[ focusing the haki to centralize on that defensive spot on his leg, he gathers the strength of it into a stronger burst, capable of pushing zoro's swords back, a motion that seems to match with a moment in the song that builds into a fortissimo. it allows sanji's leg to swing back around, bringing both feet back to the ground, though it doesn't stop him in motion as he moves to rush in again, challenging the other man's swords into an ongoing clash where every collision of boot and steel makes its own music, swaying of legs and arms forming a ballet.
this is me, he thinks. it's still me. i'm still here. ]