Once upon a time, there was a handsome, swashbuckling pirate prince of a formidable kingdom. He sailed the seas, chivalrous and brave, protecting his crew with great strength in battle, doing everything within his power to support his friends' dreams, while pursuing his own with reckless abandon.
He was as dashing as they came - tall and lean, perfect locks falling stylishly over one eye like a shimmering curtain of gold. He would never allow himself to be seen looking anything but his finest. If he wasn't the best-dressed in the room, then - well, that never happened.
Cigarette poised between lips, he was quick to smash a designer shoe in the face of anyone who dared oppose him, quick to sneer perfectly-timed insults of witty malice that often stung as much as his kicks.
But he was often quicker to forgive. For kind was he, this prince. Despite the trials and tribulations of his childhood (and yes, there were countless), he had a warm heart, one with immeasurable capacity for love - love for his dear friends, and for women everywhere, for whom he had great respect.
He had an amazing talent for the culinary arts like few had ever seen. His creations could invigorate the body as well as any medicine, fortify the soul as much as any amount of physical affection.
This prince was feared by his enemies, adored by his comrades, a true hero for the ages.
He could have whatever he pleased, whomever he pleased. In fact, by the end of his journeys, he had taken a beautiful princess as his bride, opened his own world-renowned restaurant at that place where his dreams came true, living out his days exactly as he'd always imagined.
Life was an amazing adventure for this man…..
Sanji Vinsmoke's life, on the other hand, was quite the opposite.
For Sanji Vinsmoke was no prince, and it would be foolish to think so.
He was anything but perfect.
His hair was certainly not golden - just an ordinary, shabby blond, shaggy and longer, not to be stylish, but because he didn't have fucking time for a haircut on his work schedule at the Baratie.
He was more lanky than anything, all legs, but it wasn't like he'd landed any shitty magazine covers, had he. No, he was far too average for that, he supposed.
He didn't have the money for expensive designer clothes; he'd never been as good as his siblings at anything, especially not martial arts. Even if he'd held his own against others, sparring against his brothers had always been hopeless. In fact, according to his brothers, the only thing he was good at was ratting people out.
But with a dead mother and a father who played favorites in a way that borderlined neglect, well - what good was that skill?
It didn't matter. Not much did really when his life continued as uneventfully as it was.
It had been over a year now, after all, since his father had died too. Since anything in the way of excitement or true contentment had graced his life. And despite the support of his sister, and his friends, his boss, Zeff (who'd honestly been more of a father to him than his own)….he couldn't help but feel like his life really was on a fast track to nothing.
A far too frequently occurring glance down at his now-empty ring finger might have fueled those feelings a bit.
Pathetic, really, for a thirty-one-year-old to be so damn morose over such a thing, as if he'd forgotten what happiness was. What it was to look at her with love and joy, what it was to feel revitalized and strengthened - to feel his creativity soar in the kitchen as a result.
If he couldn't stop himself from wallowing over those lost emotions as well as any brooding teenager, then what the hell business did he have trying to make others happy with his food?
It was stupid. It was so stupid.
But it was also something the world never saw.
For there was a lot of pretense to Sanji Vinsmoke's life, perhaps more than he even knew himself, and that was the way he liked it. No one ever saw him upset or unhappy, at least not with himself.
His problems were his alone. He'd sooner accept his friends' problems on top of his; he'd do anything to help them. But his private woes never saw the light of day.
Perhaps that was why they were coming out now, as they often did, in the late hours of overtime when he was the last one in the restaurant.
Zeff never complained, so long as he didn't waste too much electricity. The gruff old man seemed to quite appreciate it, in a vaguely irritated sort of way, and usually hung up his tall hat an hour before Sanji, retreating to his apartment upstairs and leaving the rest to his insomniac of a sous chef.
This was, perhaps, the most relaxing part of his day, but it was usually the most lonely.
"-Reports say the gang was linked to last year's drug bust at the old Germa factory building on 66th Street. However, no incriminating evidence has been uncovered thus far. As of now, the case remains unsolved, and, well, it quite literally cannot be expressed in words. For your eleven o'clock news, this is Tsubaki on the scene - Now-"
The cook clicked off the TV with a sigh, realizing he'd been staring blankly at the screen for long enough to make his eyes hurt, his forgotten cigarette burned to a near stub between fingers. Silence persisted in the empty dining room, most of the lights dimmed, save for the ones still illuminating the bar at which he sat.
He didn't even have a drink. And these days, he hated the feeling of sitting here alone, even if he'd used to indulge this as one of his favorite spots for brainstorming. Why the hell had he sat down?
Fuck if he knew, but it was late after a damn busy day.
He could feel fatigue pulling at his eyes, enough to draw a yawn from him. Time to shower and go to bed. Thankfully, his own apartment was upstairs too, adjacent to Zeff's. These late nights were some of the only times he actually found this fact to be a blessing rather than a curse. The last thing he wanted to do was trek across the city just to get home.
He took one last drag of his cigarette, then stubbed it out in a nearby ashtray. Sanji slid off the swiveling barstool, loosening his tie and running fingers back through his hair with some distaste. It felt far too greasy from kitchen steam and fumes.
Sighing, the blond grabbed his uniform jacket off the low back of the stool and leaned forward over the bar again, fumbling a hand underneath until he found the switch that turned off the overhead lights, plunging him into momentary blindness.
He knew this dining room by heart though, so he had no problems dodging tables and chairs while his eyes adjusted to the dim lighting.
His intentions were to make sure the front door was locked before he headed upstairs, but for some reason, he soon found himself standing out on the boardwalk, another cigarette in hand.
The night air was warm, but a breeze kept it comfortable in that first hint of the coming fall. Soon they'd have to close in the open air deck for the winter…. He made a mental note to check the weather.
Many of the attractions on the pier closed down every winter - the small amusement park at the end, and the boat tour company among them. But most of the restaurants remained open, especially the Baratie, which was popular enough to stay open year-round. In fact, there was demand for their food, despite the high prices. It was almost impossible to get a reservation last minute, though Sanji often found himself bending the rules a little for his close friends when they wanted.
But his peace was effectively shattered not long after he'd set foot outside.
A clattering of crates from around the side of the building had him glancing that way in mild surprise, one brow slowly hiking up. It could've been a cat, or a bunch of seagulls scavenging for scraps, but the cook knew for a fact they kept their waste to a bare minimum, and what they did have to throw out was carefully sealed until garbage collection day. He saw to it himself.
Besides, this was no animal, because soon after, there was another clatter and the sound of a grunt, definitely from a human.
Okay, now this was interesting.
The hotels were further down the beach, and on a weeknight in late summer, most of the crowds should've cleared out by now, especially on their end of the boardwalk. So a person would have very few reasons to be skulking around here. Unless they were looking to rob the place. Or getting kidnapped or killed or something. But he couldn't hear any sounds hinting to that.
In fact, he only heard one voice, so he really didn't have any problems striding out through the front seating area and making his way to the small alley that wrapped around to the back of the restaurant.
He didn't have a weapon of sorts, but he at least had his cell phone, and his keys. And maybe he hadn't been some kickboxing prodigy like his father wanted, but he could manage without getting killed. He had to, growing up with brothers who favored violence over words.
His own footsteps thudded dully but confidently on the weathered wood of the dock, ready to face whatever was messing around in the darkness. But they had to falter slightly when it became clear just what he was up against.
The clattering was the fault of a young girl, who Sanji was rather shocked to find angrily punching fists through the boards of the empty delivery crates stacked against the wall, with enough force to crack and shatter a few of them, each blow punctuated by a frustrated growl.
"What the fuck….?" he muttered under his breath, not even doing anything right away save for watching the strange scene before the girl noticed him.
She huffed with exertion, her short, dark bob of hair falling into her face. She pushed it out of her eyes with irritation before shifting and hovering over another crate, letting her fist crack down with rather perfect form to snap that board in half too.
What was that? Karate? Tae kwon do? He wasn't sure, but he was pretty sure "I hate him!" wasn't what they yelled in those sports…
Well, this was a nostalgic scene, wasn't it...
"Hate who?" he asked, shoving his free hand in his pocket casually and striding a bit closer, enough to set off the motion-activated light over the back kitchen door when he walked past. Clearly she'd been here a while, if it had turned back off in the first place.
The girl jumped visibly, still panting from her little tantrum, eyes widening in surprise. She didn't answer Sanji's question, just looked behind her quickly, a bit of ill-concealed panic coming over her features when she realized she was well and truly trapped in a dead end, ocean lapping behind her and a strange man blocking the way out of the alley.
He saw her eyes flick behind him, and he anticipated her movement just in time to side step in front of her when she bolted in a last ditch effort to sprint past him.
She let out a noise of frustration, then scrambled in the other direction, but he blocked her again. It wasn't hard in such a narrow space.
Eventually, she stopped, holding up hands in surrender and shuffling backwards a few steps.
"Fine. Go ahead. Call the cops. Or rape me - kill me, whatever," she spit out, tough words, but a bluff no doubt because he heard the slight tremble to her voice, saw the fear in her eyes.
Regardless, it rather shocked him to hear. But then again, perhaps it shouldn't have, coming from a cheeky kid caught trespassing and punching holes in shit.
The cook actually chuckled a little, amused to say the least, and he shrugged.
"I'm not gonna touch you, kid," he assured. "But I will call the cops if you keep breakin' shit."
The girl's eyes narrowed, regarding him carefully as if to judge whether he was telling the truth.
"You hungry?" he asked, not waiting for a reply and doing nothing further to pry.
This seemed to catch her off-guard, as she again couldn't reply right away, almost as if the conversation she'd carefully planned in her head was going nothing like she'd expected.
"It's a simple question," Sanji prompted. "If you're not, I suggest you run home unless you want me to call the cops. Or at least go vandalize someone else's business. I can tell you a few that deserve it."
He took the pause to smirk and reward himself with a long drag of his cigarette.
Her eyes trailed up and down his form suspiciously, though the skittishness was slowly disappearing from her gaze as her mind calculated just how she could dispatch him if necessary.
"And if I am hungry? You gonna give me money or something?" she wondered, contemplating where she could hit him that would likely fog his memory of this encounter entirely. She only had her fists at the moment, but give her a broom or three and she could improvise.
"Nah, I'll make you something myself. Whatever you want. I work here."
"Here? At the Baratie?"
"Yeah."
"You make the food people eat here?"
"Didn't I just say that?"
The girl had to try hard to hide the tiny flicker of excitement that inadvertently lit up her eyes. Damn….a free meal from a fancy-ass place like this? That everyone knew about but no one could afford, let alone get into even if they wanted to? Something told her she couldn't pass this chance up, provided this guy was really to be trusted.
But he seriously seemed harmless enough. What kind of damage could a skinny guy like him possibly do…?
"Can I have some wine?" she tried, for which he fixed her with a deadpan glare.
"Do I look like an idiot?"
She shrugged, and mumbled, "Worth a shot."
This, at least, pointed to the man's trustworthiness. If he wanted to take advantage of her somehow, he'd probably want her incapacitated.
"Alright, fine," she said, crossing arms over her chest and quirking a brow at him rather haughtily. "I want a bowl of ramen. Shoyu style."
"Okay. Nori and eggs? No allergies or anything?"
Shit. No hesitation with those questions. He really knew what he was doing.
"Yeah, everything. And no, no allergies."
"Done. Come on inside and I'll get started."
Sanji stuck his cigarette between teeth, then turned on his heel to head back towards the kitchen door.
But when he didn't hear footsteps following him, he glanced back.
"Or don't. I'll just bring it out here…."
This earned him a roll of eyes from the girl, who eventually took a few wary steps after him.
She thought about, as the man fumbled keys from his pocket and unlocked that side door, how quickly she could get to the shipyard from here should anything go wrong. It was late, but unlike some people, she could find her way, even at night. And she was sure at least one person would be working late at Galley-La.
Sanji opened the door and swung it out to cross the threshold before her. He flipped on the lights as soon as he entered, revealing the large state-of-the-art kitchen beyond.
It was his boss' pride and joy, and Sanji's favorite place to be in the whole world. Entering and actually using it at this hour would surely earn him a berating come morning, should Zeff even find out, but he didn't care. He wasn't scared of the man, and this wasn't the first time this kitchen had seen a late-night guest, despite many years passing in between.
He heard the girl enter behind him, and he even left the door propped as a courtesy, almost to prove he had no tricks up his sleeve.
"Have a seat," he said, jerking his chin towards the dessert line near the door to the chute. "It won't take long."
He still had a smirk on his face when he heard a stool slowly pull back, the one closest to the open door. Well, he didn't really blame her for sitting there….
And it didn't take long, twenty minutes tops passing in silence, the cook stealing a few glances over at the girl now and again as he worked.
By the time he nearly finished, she was slumped over the table more casually, stifling a yawn as she flicked through her phone absently.
"Don't fall asleep," he called across the room as he ladled noodles and soup into a bowl, arranged the meat and toppings just so. "I expect you to eat all this. You good with chopsticks?"
She looked up to see him shutting off the stove, bringing some of his tools to the sink to let them soak in water until he had the chance to wash them properly.
"Yeah," she replied, shoving her phone into the front pocket of her hoodie and burying both hands there.
"Okay," he noted. "Well, it's ready. Wash your hands over here, then follow me."
This had her pulling a hand from her pocket, just to study it. Her knuckles looked a little bruised from all the punching, but there was no blood drawn. Soap and water wouldn't sting at least.
So she did as told, shuffling over to one of the sinks along the wall, no longer put off when he moved to shut the outside door finally.
Once she was finished, Sanji took a spare tray, loaded the meal onto it, and jerked his head in indication for her to follow him out to the chute.
He led her through, flipping lights on where necessary, only pausing to grab a pair of chopsticks from the utensil station. And then he found himself in the empty dining room once again.
"Here," he said, settling her down at one of the smaller tables and placing the steaming bowl before her. "Drink?"
The girl was looking a little overwhelmed as she slowly sat, taking in the rather impressive room. It was circular, revolving around a large spiraling staircase that led to the banquet hall upstairs, the staircase itself wrapping a massive floor-to-ceiling fish tank that glowed a tranquil blue in the dim light.
"Just water," she mumbled, rapt gaze not leaving the school of colorful tropical fish that darted about in the tank. It looked like something straight out of an aquarium.
"Cool, right?" Sanji caught that stare and shot her a smirk before heading over to the bar to get her a glass of water.
By the time he brought it back, the girl had begun digging into the bowl of noodles, and he couldn't stop the smug little look that came over his face upon seeing her expression.
"Holy shit. This is awesome," she complimented, mouth full of noodles, diving right back in a second later.
If her cursing surprised him, he didn't let on, merely replied, "Thanks," and pulled back the chair across from her to take a seat. "Mind if I ask how the hell you know so much about ramen?"
"What do you think, genius? Did you look at me? I'm Japanese," she snarked back, though the remark didn't annoy him as much as it should thanks to the girl's small tilt of lips. He had to admit that he liked the kid's attitude, brash as it was.
He supposed she had a point anyhow, now that he could study her more clearly, see those dark eyes, that blue-black hair that seemed to shimmer an almost minty color in some places, though that could have been merely the reflection from the aquarium.
"Got a name?" he asked eventually, leaning an elbow on the table and sliding fingers over his own lips to hide his smirk. He seemed to have forgotten how tired he was in favor of appreciating how damn interesting this night turned out to be.
She looked up at him for a second, almost comically, noodles hanging from her mouth until she slurped the rest of them up.
"Tana," she said, without making eye contact and with no mention of a last name.
The cook just chuckled, glad to at least have something to call her.
"Okay, Tana. Well, I'm Sanji."
At that, she shot the fair-skinned blond an extremely skeptical look.
"Seriously?" she deadpanned. "You expect me to believe you're Japanese too?"
"French actually," he replied easily.
She opened her mouth as if to say something else, but seemed to think otherwise, eventually shaking her head and going back to her food, not without a quietly muttered, "Weird…"
He decided to try his luck asking some more questions while he had her talking.
"So are you lost or did you come out here on purpose?" he asked, quirking a brow when she lifted a scowl to him.
"I know my way around perfectly well, thanks," she shot back with an unexpected level of sass, and she fell into a sulky silence after that, so he pressed.
"You live around here?"
"No," she pouted in return.
"In the city at least?"
To this, she nodded.
He nodded too, beginning to put together some of the pieces she'd dropped.
"So you're not homeless, and you're not lost," he mused, lifting a finger from his lips to tap the bridge of his nose absently. "Did you run?"
This seemed to strike a nerve, enough to have her squirming uncomfortably in her seat and staring hard at the aquarium before glancing back over at him warily.
"Maybe…...You gonna make me go back….?"
"Depends why you ran," he admitted. "You got people who'll be worried about you?"
She shrugged, sinking into her seat. She was starting to look more and more like the child she was, despite her tough talk.
"Doubt it," she mumbled eventually, and the dejected tone to her voice made the cook sigh.
"Alright…." he murmured, a little softer than before, because he felt for her. He knew what it was like, thinking no one cared, that no one would miss him if he just up and disappeared.
It fucking sucked.
"Look, it's late," he said after a minute, sitting back in his chair. "Finish that, and I'll let you crash here tonight." Then, when she gave him a weird look, he clarified, "My apartment's above the restaurant. M'not gonna let you wander the streets all night…..Shouldn't you have school tomorrow?"
This at least started a mischievous little smile tugging at her lips.
"Yeah," she replied, looking far too gleeful about potentially skipping.
Sanji sighed, rolled his eyes, and flicked a hand at her bowl of half-eaten ramen.
"Eat," he insisted.
So she did, and when she finished, he instructed her to sit tight while he cleaned the dishes and finished closing up, a task he'd intended on finishing roughly an hour ago now.
He supposed he'd just have to deal with an exhausted day of work tomorrow. All for being a good samaritan.
When Sanji disappeared back into the kitchen with her dishes, Tana leaned forward, settling arms on the table and resting her chin atop them. She left it there for a second before shifting her head down, pressing her forehead there instead.
Of course, this afforded her a view of the pocket of her hoodie, which was currently glowing for the millionth time.
A frustrated growl and she ripped the phone from her pocket, dismissing the incoming call and shutting it down entirely. Let him try and call all damn night. She wasn't picking up.
The phone she shoved back in her pocket, and she flopped her head down onto the table again, leaving hands stuffed in her pocket too.
And this was how Sanji found her some ten minutes later when he emerged from the kitchen, having cleared up and locked the door.
He didn't disturb her just yet, just watched her curiously from the entrance to the dining room for a moment before moving to finally lock the front door as well.
By the time he made his way to her side, he actually wondered if she hadn't fallen asleep like that, but the irritable grunt she gave when he voiced a soft, "Oi," was enough to prove otherwise.
He touched a hand down onto her back, urging her to get up.
"Let's go, kid. If I let you sleep down here, my boss'll kill me."
She obliged, slowly pushing up with a sigh, and when she did, Sanji was nearly shocked speechless upon noticing a slight sheen to her eyes, further emphasized when the girl lifted a hand to wipe at them, turning her head away.
Again, he felt a tiny pang in his chest, of empathy and the desire to comfort.
He knew nothing of her situation, and he'd never thought of himself as someone with particularly strong parental instincts - those were more fleeting dreams than anything. But he couldn't deny that urge, and it was enough to have him leaving his hand where it was, rubbing her back and pushing her gently towards a discreet door down the short hallway of the chute.
He flipped off the dining room lights, and ushered Tana up the narrow, softly lit staircase behind that door. Another door at the top opened onto another hallway, with wooden floors that resembled a ship, nautical paintings and trappings along the wall adding to that effect. Not to mention the circular window at the opposite end that looked like a porthole letting in the moonlight.
The blond walked her past Zeff's apartment door, past the offices on the other side until he came to his own, the last on the left.
It was unlocked. There was no point in locking it really, so he let her right in, wondering if Tana would be freaked out by this invitation at all.
But she seemed far too exhausted for even skittishness now. In fact, she even yawned when she stepped into the little entrance hallway.
Sanji's apartment was modest, hardly huge, even if Zeff had allowed him to rent the biggest one, claiming he himself preferred closer quarters as they reminded him of his sailing days.
Wood floors stained white, it was open, and surprisingly spacious despite its small square footage.
He didn't have much, but what he did have was comfortable and to his taste, simple and modern. Maybe he relied a little too heavily on Ikea sometimes, but so long as he wasn't rich, then he couldn't much care about that.
The apartment had a full kitchen at least, with a small counter that acted as a barrier between that and his lounge area, couch, chairs, and TV in front of a large set of windows that, during the day, offered a rather stunning, uninterrupted view of the ocean, almost as if he really was sailing.
The kitchen he only used to its fullest potential on days off or when he had friends over. He kept it fully cleaned and fully stocked though. After all, it was his studio of sorts, the place where he could really experiment.
It just felt rather empty these days….
Even a year later, the whole apartment did.
"The couch is yours," Sanji murmured, shutting the door behind Tana and flipping on a light over the counter. "I'll go grab an extra pillow and blanket. This door's a bathroom."
He gestured to a door on the right, then slipped through the one beside it, closest to the windows - his bedroom.
Tana afforded the moment to glance around, at how clean everything looked. Almost untouched. It was a comfortable space, but it didn't seem lived in. Not like her own apartment.
She sighed and yawned again, bypassing the bathroom and instead sinking down onto the light blue couch.
It was soft...but it was a couch, and she foolishly found herself pining for her own bed, even after all the effort she'd made not to go back.
Maybe she shouldn't have said those things…..maybe she should've answered those calls.
"You okay?"
Sanji's voice to her right, and she looked up to see him standing in the doorway to the other room, a folded white fleece blanket in hands, and a fluffy pillow stacked on top.
She wasn't sure what prompted him to ask, so she merely nodded tiredly.
The cook watched her for a moment, then sighed and walked over to hand her the pillow.
"Here you go," he said, placing the blanket on the couch beside her.
She still looked rather forlorn, however, a far cry from her sassiness earlier. Sanji supposed it might have been due to exhaustion. It was past midnight, after all. And maybe a bit of remorse or regret…? Perhaps he was reading too far into that look on her face though.
"Get some sleep," he urged gently, plopping a hand down onto her shoulder and giving a squeeze. "We'll get this shit sorted out in the morning. I'll make you breakfast and stuff."
The girl nodded again, then kicked off her sneakers automatically and curled legs up onto the couch, placing the pillow on one end. She moved to take the blanket, but he beat her to it, unfolding it and helping to get it settled over her lap.
Her eyes lingered on him for a moment. And her lips turned up a tiny bit a second later.
"Thank you…" she mumbled, and he smirked.
"Don't mention it," he replied, patted her shoulder again, then backed off, watching as she pulled the blanket up higher and turned away from him onto her side.
He crossed the room, flipping off the kitchen light before heading back to his own door.
Just prior to closing it, he shot one last glance at Tana's huddled form on the couch, the light from his room shining a soft orange rectangle over her.
He noticed, for the first time, the back of her sweatshirt, a pair of swords crossed on the back and a name printed at the top in a varsity font.
He couldn't read all of it, half of it obscured beneath the blankets, but he quirked a brow, wondering if that was her last name.
He shook his head, too tired to inquire right now, and shut the door.
He'd figure this shit out in the morning, as he'd said.
He just hoped she'd still be there when he woke up…
She was. In fact, Tana was still fast asleep by the time he quietly stepped out of his room, fully showered and dressed in his work pants and a blue button-down and tie, at the crack of dawn the next morning.
She'd shifted in her sleep, now sprawled on her back, one leg kicked out of the blankets and an arm hanging limply over the edge of the couch, head completely off the pillow.
Sanji shook his head, smiling a little. How the hell could anyone sleep comfortably that way?
He tried not to make a sound as he crossed the room and slid open a door on the other end. The cook headed out onto his small balcony so he could smoke a cigarette without disturbing his young guest.
There was the sunrise peeking up over the horizon, bathing the ocean in a brilliant clear orange that Sanji hadn't seen in a few days. This was one of the first times this week that the sky hadn't been cloudy, and while he could appreciate it, along with the soothing nicotine he inhaled slowly, he had to wonder just what the hell this day had in store for him.
If the kid didn't contact her parents, he'd have to do something before the police came after him. He was no fucking kidnapper, thank you, and the last thing he wanted was to deal with the authorities again.
He also didn't want to ruin things for the girl should she really have come from a difficult situation…..
He needed a plan of action, and while this might have seemed like a situation no one could relate to, well….he was in luck, wasn't he.
A few more minutes he spent leaning against his railing, watching the sun rise and the ocean lap beneath him, seagulls already beginning to circle along the pier in anticipation of the day's scavenges.
Then he finished his cigarette and flicked it off his balcony to the waves below, a bad habit he'd picked up admittedly, but he couldn't bring himself to worry about it just then.
He needed advice.
But instead of pulling his phone out of his pocket, he went back inside and headed straight through his little living room and kitchen, leaving the apartment and the slumbering girl behind. He made his way down the hall where, unsurprisingly, there was already a light on in the adjacent office, the sound of shuffling paperwork coming from the cracked doorway.
The cook strode right up, despite the still early hour, gave a soft knock, then swung the door open and entered without further introduction.
"What do you want, brat? This is my only hour of peace," Zeff grumbled from his desk, not looking up from the stack of paperwork he was poring over.
"Shut up," Sanji scoffed, knowing the old man would never stop with the damn nicknames despite him being more than fully grown. "I've got a kid in my apartment, and I don't know what to do."
This at least forced Zeff to look up, that impressive blond mustache of his nearly covering his frown entirely.
"A kid," he repeated, staring at Sanji like he'd lost his mind. "A human kid?"
"Yes, a human kid," Sanji huffed impatiently. "She showed up last night. She was punching shit in the alleyway. Surprised it didn't wake you up."
At this, Zeff's eyes narrowed.
"Any damage?"
"To the girl? No. I'm sure that's what you're concerned about, right?" Sanji asked sarcastically. But when Zeff just shot him an unamused look of his own, he rolled his eyes. "Just a few old empty crates. Nothing valuable."
Zeff seemed satisfied with this answer, giving a nod and going back to his paperwork.
"Did you call the cops?"
"No," Sanji admitted. "She's little, old man, like twelve, tops. And she did not seem to wanna go back home. Who knows what the hell she's running from."
Zeff tutted scoldingly and shook his head.
"You're too sympathetic, boy. If you won't call the police, then steal her phone and call her parents."
"What?! Like hell! And make her lose all trust in me-?"
"That's what I did for you-"
"WHAT?!" Sanji screeched. "That's how my dad found out I was here?!"
"Yup," Zeff answered, still not looking up from his work. "Surprise. Now go deal with the kid and start getting set up downstairs."
The cook glowered at the other man indignantly. He might have only been sixteen at the time, but he still remembered clearly how he'd felt when his father showed up - being forced to go home with him despite how badly he didn't want to. He wasn't going to pull that with Tana.
"Get Patty to cover for me," he growled irritably. "I wanna sort this shit out my way."
Zeff scribbled his signature on a page, shuffled a few more.
"Then why even ask my advice?"
"Because, I - urgh!"
Maybe he wanted it, but if Zeff was going to make things difficult for him, then fucking forget it.
The blond huffed rather childishly, then turned on his heel and stormed from the office, muttering to himself about stupid shitty geezers screwing him over.
This only left Zeff smirking to himself in Sanji's wake.
Dinner was an awkward affair. It always was these days for Tana and her dad. Neither of them could cook, at least not anything substantial, so the fridge's contents consisted of whatever take-out leftovers they had from the night before, and not much else….maybe a bottle of ketchup or a random jar of pickles, mostly because they were staples Tana's dad thought he should buy.
Tana remembered a time not so long ago when it had been stocked with fresh vegetables, lunch meats and the like….things a normal family would have. But now that wasn't so. It would never be so again.
So it was Chinese tonight, the third time this week, and she really didn't see why her friends were always jealous. Oliver and Thomas would often express their envy, but she wasn't sure why when their dad would slip cola into their lunch boxes as a treat. She didn't know how he got it past their mom, considering she seemed to have eyes everywhere….
They were the lucky ones, as far as she was concerned.
They were also the only ones she had left, and neither of them were even in her grade, with Oliver a year above her and Thomas a year below. No one else had wanted to be her friend for over a year now, and that was entirely her dad's fault. Everything was her dad's fault, and once she'd come to that conclusion, her behavior had changed.
They'd stopped talking to each other beyond a few obligatory words here and there. Her dad was pretty reserved to begin with, but these days he was very nearly silent. Ever since he'd started working at Rain Dinners, he would spend most of his time at home locked in his room, and she knew he was drinking. The amount of crushed-up beer cans and bottles she found in the trash was enough to prove that.
She'd pull them out, separate them for recycling like her mom had started doing. She'd do it all herself, but her father always said nothing. It was like he didn't even want to look at her anymore.
Kendo was her only escape these days, since she'd moved back in with him.
She could go to the dojo, beat the shit out of things, train herself in a discipline she'd been learning practically her entire twelve years of life. She couldn't remember not having it in her life. And it reminded her of happier times. When their family was together and happy.
And now she was the only one who found joy in it. Even her grandfather's passion had dwindled, left him watching her practice with a hollow, melancholy gaze behind his glasses, his only approval as her coach that of a subtle nod and a murmured, "Again."
The joy was just...gone.
That much was obvious when she decided to bring it up after a few minutes of stabbing her chopsticks absently into her rice.
She looked up across the small table at her dad, who was actually eating his food, but paying her no mind. It always looked like his thoughts were elsewhere.
"My competition's this weekend," she muttered quietly, breaking the deafening silence for the first time since they'd sat down to eat. "Are you gonna drop me at Grandpa's or should I call him to pick me up?"
Her dad actually paused, the hand clamped absently on his can of beer clenching slightly along with his jaw. There was a long, tense moment before he spoke.
"I already told him you don't have my permission to go," he finally muttered, gaze fixed on his meal, which he resumed eating a second later, as if his words were final.
Tana couldn't help the frustrated exhale that left her.
"Why not?" she protested, glaring across the table at him.
"Look," he replied icily. "You live with me again, and I say no competing, got it? You're lucky I even let you practice with him still…."
"Yeah, once a week! That's hardly any time! And that doesn't answer why!" Tana exclaimed again.
She hadn't intended to let her temper get the best of her, but it was hard not to when talking with her dad. Eyes full of confusion and frustration flicked over her dad's features, the trepidation of a child hiding beneath the tough exterior.
"Grandpa said he thinks I'm ready! He said I might even be better than mom was at my ag-"
Her dad slammed his fist down on the table, this time meeting her glare with a menacing one of his own.
"I don't fucking care what he says, okay?! It's too damn dangerous! You keep this shit up and I'm not letting you go back there period!"
"Dad! You can't just do that!"
"I sure as fuck can! How the hell am I supposed to know if you're strong enough!" he asserted, as if that would win him the argument.
But Tana huffed in indignation, glowering at her dad for the very reason behind all this trouble.
"Oh, I dunno, maybe watch me sometime?" she growled fearlessly with the sarcasm of her mother.
This seemed to strike a nerve with the man, whose jaw snapped shut, baleful gaze flickering to reveal a turmoil underneath that Tana had seen before, but they never talked about. She hadn't even felt she could, at least not until this moment, still riding the adrenaline rush of the confrontation.
Breaths hissed out between clenched teeth, watching her dad waver almost pathetically.
How could such a big, strong guy be like this? This was not the father she remembered - this was not the man she once looked up to. Instead, all she saw was weakness. Never did she think a year could really change that much about a person, even if it had felt like an eternity.
"You're just afraid!" she shouted, almost relishing in the flinch that ran through her dad, the way he turned his head away almost in shame. "You're always afraid now! Afraid to do anything! I thought you were strong, but you're not!"
Months of pent-up anger trembled through her small body as she watched him, almost wanting him to fight back more, to do something other than run from all this. She'd never seen her dad cry, wasn't sure he had the ability, but she'd almost prefer that over the unbearable silence that met her outburst.
He didn't concede, didn't do anything, save for stare hard at the TV across the apartment, showing commercials in the background.
Tana could've said more, but the silence went on a little too long, and despite her words to her dad, she began to feel a tiny bit of fear creep up within her. She wasn't sure what consequences her tirade would have now with this new dad, and part of her wasn't sure she trusted him anymore, especially when she saw his fist trembling ever so slightly.
But the silence amounted to nothing.
In fact, all her dad did was push to his feet eventually, still looking pointedly away from her. He left his unfinished meal right there on the table and strode away to his room without a lingering glance.
The door slammed shut behind him, and Tana was left feeling horribly alone.
When Tana opened her eyes, it took her a minute to gather her surroundings. She wasn't in her room….she was on a couch in an unfamiliar apartment. She was still in her jeans, which was entirely weird to say the least, but it was this that had her recalling the events of the previous night.
For all the speed with which she'd left home, with nothing but her phone in her pocket, she sure regretted it now. She was comfortable, and warm, but this felt far too unsettling, waking up in a stranger's apartment, even if the man had shown her such kindness last night.
She stared straight ahead, not moving just yet, focusing on the window, which she hadn't noticed overlooked the ocean.
It should have been nice. In fact, it reminded her of the beach house her parents had rented from Oliver and Thomas' dad a few summers ago.
They'd been the first to stay there after his company had built it, and she remembered the view being similar to this. Other parts of it were very different. After all, the house's design had much of Galley-La's unique touch, a bright red exterior, a balcony shaped like the bow of a ship jutting out over the ocean, even a tower like a lighthouse, with a room that afforded a three-hundred and sixty degree view of the beach. Thousand Sunny, was the name, if she recalled.
Her dad had said it was the perfect place to train. They'd even had to pay a damage fee when her mom kicked her dad's ass hard enough to crack the wood of the wall. That was the last awkward time she'd walked in on her parents kissing.
It hadn't been long ago, but already things had changed completely.
Finally, she sat up, rubbing sleepily at her eyes and swallowing the lump that had risen in her throat for some annoying reason.
There was a clock on the opposite wall, one of those weird modern ones with no numbers, and it took her an extra second to decipher the time, but it looked to be around seven now.
This was the time she'd normally be sluggishly getting ready for school, but….well…..it would seem she was skipping today after all.
Maybe last night that idea seemed exciting and rebellious. Now it just made her feel anxious for the trouble she'd be in…
It was quiet. She didn't hear anyone moving around, and she came upon the realization that she was actually alone, unless Sanji was still asleep. But the door to his room was ajar, so he must have gotten up.
Worry shot through her anew. The man had said he'd make her breakfast, that they'd sort things out in the morning, but had she been wrong to trust him? Was she on her own?
Something about that had her a little fearful. What if he'd gone to the police while she was asleep? What if her dad was going to come pick her up, and what if he was even angrier than last night?
Worried, she decided to risk checking her phone, the screen promptly exploding with unread texts and missed calls once she powered it on.
She dismissed them all, but mostly out of panic. Because they hadn't all been from one person. The one she didn't want to talk to. Her grandpa had called too, even Oliver and Thomas' parents…
The only notification she felt comfortable opening just then was from Oliver, a text that simply read, 'u dead?' with a gravestone emoji from a mere fifteen minutes ago.
'No,' she sent back, and she noticed that the text was read almost immediately after. A mere second later, her friend began typing.
'Ok nice,' he replied, then typed a second message. 'Comin to school?'
'Idk yet,' she said, which was the truth. She wasn't sure she wanted to now…
'K,' came his response, and she found herself grateful for her older friend's nonchalance. Even if he was worried about things, he didn't tend to show it, unlike his younger brother, who tended to quietly over-prepare for every exam ever, despite always acing them.
'Wanna facetime quick? ill go somewhere secret,' Oliver wrote a second later, followed by a ninja emoji.
It was enough to make Tana smile, so she typed back, 'ok' and tapped the button to make a video call.
It rang for a bit, most likely while her friend found a private place, and indeed, when he picked up, it sure looked like the boy was huddled in his closet, dimly lit with clothes sloppily hanging above him.
Oliver grinned when the call connected, his shaggy, bright blue mop of hair standing out amidst his surroundings.
"Where are you?" he laughed, noting the strange background behind his friend, who looked to be totally fine. Certainly not dead or anything like that. His question came more from amusement than concern, however, and it brought a smirk to her face.
"Some guy's apartment," she replied, almost proudly, and she did feel pretty badass saying that out loud. "At the Baratie on the pier. I ran there last night - it took like an hour! - and I was punching shit and this guy who works there found me and invited me in. He made me free food and let me sleep on his couch~"
"Really?!" he exclaimed, slapping a hand over his mouth when he realized he might have been a bit too loud. "Really?" he repeated in a quieter tone. "That's so super awesome! He wasn't like - gonna kidnap you or anything?"
"Nah," Tana assured. "I could've kicked his ass if he tried~" She might have been talking herself up just a little, considering the doubts she'd indeed felt last night…
"Bet you could've," Oliver replied with a resolute nod, dark blue eyes shining with excitement, as if he was totally living vicariously through her wild night.
Tana's smirk fell a bit though, and she wondered, "What's - I mean, is my dad mad…..?"
Oliver's lips twisted into a frown and he shrugged.
"Mmm, I dunno," he said. "I think he just called my mom and then she asked if me or Thomas had seen you. Did you guys fight or something?"
"Yeah…" Tana admitted. "He wasn't gonna let me go to the tournament this weekend!"
"What?! Why?!"
"You know why…."
"Ugh," Oliver huffed, quieting a bit and biting his lip before looking apologetic. "Sorry, Tana. That's such a dick move…"
She sighed and shook her head.
"It's whatever. I guess I'll just have to find another way to get there," she mumbled.
It was no use asking Oliver's parents to take her. They were great, but they also wouldn't help her if her dad said no.
"You could hijack a car! I showed you how to pick a lock, remember?"
Tana giggled, half disappearing from view on the screen as she laughed.
"A Hummer," she fantasized. "And I'll drive it over every car like a monster truck!"
"Yeah!" Oliver exclaimed. "And then you can-!"
But just then, a distant knock had the boy glancing nervously to his right, especially when the smooth voice of his mother sounded in the background, calling his name.
"Dammit," the boy whispered, then shouted, "Just a sec, Mom!" before turning back to his phone. "I gotta go if I wanna live. I'll text you later."
"Okay," Tana whispered back, admittedly a little disappointed their call had to be cut short. It had been a good distraction. "Later…"
"Bye," Oliver replied, then ended the call, leaving her friend's Gundam icon to take up the screen in place of his face.
She sighed, realizing she'd forgotten to ask him not to tell his parents or anyone where she was….but it was too late for that now. She trusted he wouldn't anyway.
Instead, she closed the app and pocketed her phone again, plunged right back into the anxious silence of earlier, left to wonder where Sanji had gone and whether she should make a break for it before he got back.
She was so deep in this worry that she actually startled when, suddenly, the front door swung open, and the blond cook himself stepped in, muttering to himself irritably.
As soon as he saw she was awake though, he stopped, noting the owlish, almost alarmed way she looked at him from behind the couch back, hair still mussed up from sleep.
He ultimately relaxed, shutting the door behind him.
"You're up," he said, a smirk coming to his face as he crossed the room and leaned over the counter separating the kitchen from the living room area.
Tana nodded a little awkwardly.
"You hungry?" he asked her for the second time since they'd met, voice gentle and patient.
"Okay," she replied quietly, enough to have him quirk a brow.
Something was different about her this morning, Sanji thought, even though he'd only seen her for but a minute. He'd noticed it last night too, how her sass and confidence had slowly begun to dwindle. He'd put it down to her being tired, but perhaps there was more to it. It wouldn't exactly surprise him.
"Alright then. What are you in the mood for?"
She didn't know. When was the last time she'd actually had a proper home-cooked breakfast? Probably at her Grandpa's. With her dad, it was just cereal or leftovers. Or nothing.
"I dunno. Pancakes or something?"
"Can do," Sanji replied with a nod, pushing off the counter to head over to the fridge. "Do you like chocolate chips? I can make chocolate chip ones."
She shook her head.
"Too sweet."
"What about fruit?" he asked instead, perusing the boxes of blueberries and strawberries he'd bought the other day. He pulled them out to show her.
"That's fine," she replied.
"Okay," he said, and began his preparations, rummaging through his highly organized kitchen for various tools and pans, ingredients from his cabinets. "TV remote should be on the coffee table. You can watch TV if you want."
She nodded, and soon Sanji's apartment was filled with sounds often unheard these days. Homey sounds - the sizzling of bacon, a commercial jingle on TV, the swish of coffee brewing. It would have been odd, had it not been so comfortable.
Usually the cook was up and out the door within a half hour of getting dressed. Maybe a cup of coffee, a cigarette or two before he headed downstairs to start his work for the day.
This sort of lazy morning hadn't been afforded to him in a while. In fact, the last time he'd flipped pancakes over the stove, there had been a pair of soft hands sliding over his waist from behind, lips kissing the back of his neck tenderly, a voice sweet as pudding in his ear….
He shook his head, pushing that thought far from his mind. Of course, it was hard to, especially in the silence, so he decided to start talking, distract himself.
"So what school do you go to? Are they gonna be pissed you're not there?" he called over his shoulder.
"East Blue Junior High," she replied, head still turned towards the TV. "I never skip, so they can't be too mad…."
"You're in junior high? A little shrimp like you? Would've pinned you for a first grader~" Sanji teased, trying to lighten the mood.
"Hey! I'm in sixth grade!" she shot back, finally turning to glare over at him with a pout.
He just chuckled and wiggled eyebrows at her cheekily before flipping another pancake.
She still looked sulky, however, resting an arm on the back of the couch and settling her chin on top of it.
"My turn," she eventually said, deciding to wheedle the guy with her own questions if he seemed so keen on doing so for her. "Are you married?"
Sanji felt himself twitch a bit at that question. It had an easy answer, but not such an easy story behind it.
"No," he replied simply, and a little curtly at that.
"Do you have kids?" she pressed.
"No," he replied again.
"How old are you?"
"Okay, kid, you don't get to ask me that." He wasn't that old, but he certainly wasn't twenty-one anymore…
"Can I guess?" she tried, causing the cook to pause his work and set his spatula down hard on the counter with a clink of metal on the surface. He turned his head to narrow eyes at her.
"What the hell is this, twenty questions? Is this how all kids talk to adults these days?" He couldn't remember being this damn nosy when he was young. His mother had called him a perfect angel, thank you very much.
But Tana was relentless, enjoying the rise she was getting out of the man, hiding a little impish grin against her arm.
"Are you old? Like thirty?"
"Thirty isn't old, kid," he grumbled, rolling up sleeves and getting back to work. "Look, there's nothing else interesting about me, I promise."
And as far as he was concerned, there wasn't. Besides his cooking ability. And he hadn't practiced savate for over a year now. He was probably rusty as fuck. Nothing impressive there.
That brought to mind a question though, about why the hell the girl had been capable of splitting those boards so perfectly the night before. The only way someone her age could be that good was if they'd been practicing for several years. He knew for a fact kids didn't usually start with contact practice until after they'd mastered all the forms in those sports.
She seemed bored with his answer, judging by the fact that she'd once again set to pouting quietly, so he decided to ask, "Here's what I wanna know? You a black belt or something? Where'd you learn to punch shit like that?"
The girl dropped her hand and began to pick absently at the back of the couch, eventually making swirling patterns with her fingers.
"Not a black belt. I do kendo and judo. We don't really use those. I'm san-dan in kendo, and ni-dan in judo. That means-"
"No shit! You're that good?" the cook nearly screeched, slapping a pancake down onto the serving plate extra hard in his surprise. "You're in first grade!"
"Sixth!" she whined back, glowering over at him. "And of course I am. I've been doing it since I was like two! I better be by this point."
"That's insane. Little kids waving around swords and shit," Sanji replied, but his tone sounded more surprised than disturbed.
Tana was at least glad it wasn't like her dad's frequent tone of complete scorn these days…
"It's not insane. My grandpa runs a dojo! And I'm not a little kid!" she insisted, to which he countered with a sarcastic, "Right."
Sanji shook his head in disbelief, scooped up the last steaming pancake from the griddle, flopped it onto the plate, then turned off the heat and whisked the plate over to the counter while it was still hot.
Homemade syrup, a bowl of fresh fruit, butter, basically everything anyone could want to top their pancakes soon joined that plate, along with a pitcher of orange juice and his own cup of coffee.
Last, he set out the bacon and silverware and pulled a stool up to the counter for Tana.
"Alright, get over here," he said, to which Tana sprung onto her feet quickly, having been watching him prepare like some kind of hungry cat the whole time. "Help yourself."
And watching her bounce excitedly onto the stool and eye the breakfast spread with wide eyes, very nearly drooling on his countertop, was certainly enough to convince him of her maturity….
And so, the breakfast passed rather pleasantly, with Tana quite happily stuffing her face and Sanji casually deflecting any of her more prying questions. He was pleased to discover, however, that all he needed to do was get her talking about kendo, and she would gladly chatter on, detailing things that were beyond even his general knowledge. Nevertheless, it was all rather interesting, and the cook found himself actively listening the more this kid's passion unfolded.
He wanted to know more about her situation. Where had she run from? Was it safe? What the hell should he do next?
But he didn't quite have the heart to bring down the mood just yet.
It was the sound of a phone vibrating that surprised them both, and it became quickly apparent that the phone was Tana's, the sound muffled in her pocket.
Neither of them moved, Sanji slowly lifting his gaze to her and quirking a brow at her expectantly, wondering if she was going to answer.
A look of alarm, and then indecision, had crossed the girl's face. And the longer the moment lasted, the more it was clear that she wasn't going to answer.
And, sure enough, as the phone continued to vibrate softly, Tana huffed out a frustrated breath, and ripped the device from her pocket, thumb hovering over the 'end call' button.
But Sanji interrupted, shooting out a hand to stop her from tapping the screen.
"Wait. Mind if I pick up?" he asked, a bit of a mischievous look on his face. It was a little impulsive of him, and he hadn't been intending on it a mere second ago, but if this was who he thought it was, it could make for one interesting phone call.
She stared at him for a second, admittedly surprised he had asked, and her eyes flicked to the buzzing phone again, seemingly debating whether or not she should let him. She wasn't exactly sure if she could get into any deeper trouble than she probably was in already, so she eventually nodded.
"Go for it," she mumbled, sliding the phone over the counter to him, then slumped down, clearly trying to disappear inside her oversized hoodie.
"Don't worry," he replied with a reassuring wink. "I got this."
Sanji lifted the phone from the counter, noting with amusement that the caller ID read simply, 'Asshole' in large letters. He tapped the screen to receive the call, and brought it to his ear.
"Hey, Asshole," he answered smoothly, causing Tana's eyes to widen and her face to go a little red.
There was a strange sound on the other end, almost one of surprise, but it was quickly replaced by a threatening growl.
And the voice that spoke afterwards was just as menacing, low and dangerous.
"Who the fuck is this," less a question from the man, than a demand, which Sanji began to promptly answer.
"My name's Sanji Vinsmoke. I'm-"
"Where the fuck is my daughter?!"
Okay, this guy wasn't even going to wait, was he. Asshole's - or rather, Asshole Dad's - voice was louder, much more urgent. Was he trying to intimidate or something? Sanji very nearly rolled his eyes. Like hell it was going to work on him.
"Oi, calm down, I'm not some kidnapper. She showed up here last night. I let her stay with me. She's sitting right here. I just fed her the best damn pancakes she's ever had, with strawberries and shit. Think she's doing just fine."
"Put her on!"
Sanji scowled.
"Ugh, stop yelling in my ear, dammit. It's irritating as fuck. Hang on," the blond grumbled, pulling the phone away from his ear to focus on Tana.
"He wants to talk to you," he murmured, but Tana immediately shook her head and asserted, "No," so he brought the phone back to his ear.
"She doesn't wanna talk to you," he relayed to the angry voice, preparing for the screech that was sure to follow.
But to his surprise, he was met with the sound of a huff, then a long silence, long enough that he actually wondered if the guy was still there.
"Hello?" he tried. "Hello-"
"Shut up!" the man's voice came right back, though there was an almost tired edge to it this time. "Look, just….where are you? You say you didn't kidnap her, so tell me where you are so I can come get her!"
Sanji's eyes narrowed. He didn't want it to be that easy. He didn't want to send this kid right back into a bad situation, especially when she was sat there looking miserable as fuck right across from him.
That was why Sanji wasn't so sure, eyes fixed on Tana when he replied, "Not so fast."
"What the hell do you mean?! I'll call the fucking cops-!"
"And if I do first?" Sanji cut in smoothly, and that earned him another silence which he took advantage of. "You're lucky I haven't already. How do I know you're not abusing her or some shit? You sure as hell sound like enough of a dick to! She ran away for a reason, and she also doesn't wanna go back for a reason. I'm not throwing her right back into the fire."
Tana had slid down in her seat, staring hard at the counter in a way Sanji knew was to combat tears. He recognized that look entirely.
Still no reply from the other end, so he continued, lowering his voice so as not to trouble the girl further.
"She's sitting here looking upset as hell. How am I supposed to be okay with letting her go," he added, starting to feel regretful himself about all this. Dammit, he felt responsible for this kid all of a sudden, and it was a weird-ass feeling at that. She wasn't even his kid…
"We had an argument last night," came the man's voice again, sounding even more weary. "I said some things that she didn't wanna hear. I went in my room to cool off, and when I came back out, she was gone." A heavy sigh on the other end, and Sanji almost began to feel sorry for the man when his voice quieted. "I haven't fucking slept. Please, just….can I come pick her up?"
He didn't want to fall for a trap though, not when he knew the kind of things his dad used to say to fool people into thinking their situation was normal…
"Hold on," he said again, and removed the phone to address Tana once more.
"Is it okay for your dad to come get you?" he asked, drilling her seriously with his eyes. "If you don't wanna go with him for any reason, then I won't let him come. I will call the police, and we'll let them deal with this. But I'll make sure you're taken care of."
Tana raised her gaze to look at Sanji, saw just how serious he was. His tone reminded her, reminded her of how her dad's used to be - fierce and protective, whenever she'd needed it. Now it was just despondent or angry. Nothing in between.
She didn't want that though. She didn't want the police to come. She didn't want them involved. It would be far too painful. She couldn't deal with it.
She also didn't really want to leave Sanji's place, because this man actually seemed concerned with her….
Still, she found herself nodding, jaw clenching, and Sanji couldn't help but think how resilient this kid really was.
"He can come," she replied.
None of this sat right with Sanji, but Tana seemed certain.
He asked one more time, wanting her to know it was okay to be honest with him, that she didn't have to agree just to be brave.
"Are you sure?"
But she nodded again and said, "Yes."
He sighed.
There was really nothing he could do, in that case. He had no charges with which to stop the guy from picking her up. He was her father, and Sanji had no rights when it came to that shit.
He lifted the phone again.
"You there?" he asked, wondering if his and Tana's little conversation had been overheard. Not that he cared if it had been.
"Yeah," replied the man, almost on a tired sigh. Maybe he was relieved to have actually heard his daughter's voice. Sanji couldn't tell….
"Alright, I'll tell you where I live," the blond allowed. "You know the Baratie restaurant? On the pier?"
A grunt of acknowledgment from the other end.
"I live above there. The restaurant's opening soon, so come around to the back. There's a set of stairs by the dock. Not by the fence - that's my boss' apartment. The first set of stairs."
He heard what sounded like rustling paper and then a pencil scratching on the other end, followed by the man's gravelly tones.
"Okay."
"How long's it gonna take you?" Sanji asked, and the man replied, "I dunno. Probably like a half hour."
"Double whatever he says," Tana muttered after Sanji's question. "He's gonna get lost."
"An hour then," Sanji calculated in response to that, only to receive a spluttered sort of sound on Tana's dad's end.
"Oi, I said a half-"
"Whatever, man. Just get here when you get here," the cook insisted, reaching out to run a finger over the rim of his coffee mug absently. He was already craving another cigarette. "We'll be waiting."
"Fine," said the man, and there was another pause. "And can you tell Tana…." But then, a frustrated noise, and a rushed, "Nevermind. I'll be there soon."
Then, another silence, followed soon after by a dial tone, and Sanji realized the asshole had hung up on him.
Slowly, he brought the phone down from his ear, checking the screen to see he'd indeed been disconnected, then he slid the device back to Tana.
She took it, putting it back in her pocket immediately, as if she didn't want to look at it anymore.
"Still time to back out," Sanji said after a minute, offering her a small smile. "I can kick his ass when he comes round."
This earned him a quiet laugh from Tana, who looked a little more relaxed than she had a second ago.
"Maybe he needs that…." she admitted, smirking up at Sanji.
The cook smiled, then seemed to come to some sort of decision as he reached in his pocket for his own phone.
"Tell you what," he said, unsure of what compelled him to do so. "I'll give you my number. You ever need somewhere to go again, or just someone to talk to, call me. Okay?"
She looked at him for a long minute, eyes narrowing a bit.
"Can I call if I want free food?"
"Alright, don't abuse it," Sanji insisted with a chuckle, gesturing to her pocket. "Here, get ready."
She pulled her phone back out with a grin on her face, scrolling through to her contacts and typing in his number when he dictated it to her.
She paused afterwards, however, looking at the screen as if contemplating something.
"What?" he asked, raising a brow.
"I'm trying to think of what to call you-"
"Sanji. You put Sanji Vinsmoke in there! No nicknames!"
"Vinsmoke," she repeated, wrinkling her nose and laughing as she began to type. "Your last name's weird too. Okay, Mr….Curly…...Brow…"
"Curly Brow?! What the hell!" he yelped in response. "The hell does that even mean?!"
"Your eyebrow's curly!" she insisted, gesturing to the end of her own. "It goes up at the end!"
Sanji's jaw dropped, as if horrified, and he hurried to open the camera on his phone so he could see for himself, frantically smoothing over his with a finger as he did.
Tana giggled, watching him vainly fret over something so silly.
"That's payback for calling me a shrimp~"
A grumbling sound left him, but he closed his camera and set his phone down with a glare.
"You're helping me clean up," he said abruptly, and a triumphant grin worked its way onto his face when that statement wiped hers right off.
Forty-seven minutes after that tensely awkward phone call, boots clomped quickly up those back steps, the ones he'd been instructed to use by the guy whose name he'd completely forgotten in his anger.
That was stupid. That was probably stupid as fuck considering he still wasn't positive his daughter was safe, but dammit, he hadn't been able to think about anything else but following the only lead he had, rushing out that door and going.
He hadn't wanted to call the cops. He'd been fucking scared to because what if he lost her? What if they took her from him?
No. He refused to even think about that. He wouldn't let that happen.
And that was why he was willing to face whatever was behind that door, provided he hadn't been given a false lead…
He reached the top of the stairs, found himself on a small, wooden deck-style balcony overlooking the water. There was a door, and beyond it, he heard voices.
And one of those voices was most certainly his daughter's.
He wasted no time, leather jacket straining as he lifted an arm to rap insistently on the door.
Instantly, the voices stopped, or rather, quieted so he could no longer hear them.
Another few seconds passed, and dammit, he did not have the patience for this. Not when he felt ready to explode from the coiled tension within him.
He knocked again, louder, only to have the door swing open abruptly, leaving him standing there with his arm raised in the face of a lanky blond man, who was looking him over with a brow raised and a deadpan expression.
He lowered his arm, eyes flicking behind the stranger until he spotted his daughter standing by a couch, her gaze meeting his for a second before she looked away.
"Tana!" he exclaimed, and began to barrel his way forward, but the blond stopped him, planting a hand onto the door frame to block his entrance.
"Hold up," he said, then looked back over his shoulder to the girl. "This your dad?"
Tana bit her lip, gaze still downcast, but she nodded.
This seemed to appease the blond, who lowered his hand from the door frame slowly.
"You can come in," he said, jerking his chin towards the apartment's interior. "I'm Sanji, by the way. The guy you hung up on."
Tana's dad merely grunted, feeling no remorse for that, and stepped past the blond to enter.
"Zoro," the man replied gruffly. "Zoro Roronoa…."