Author's Note: So for one odd reason or another, I am here again with a story that is Sanji x Vivi inclined. This fanfiction was originally inspired by a lovely SanVivi fanart from the Japanese website called Ajihira. The idea has been in my head for a while now, however it refused the thought of letting me live peaceably until I started writing it, and therefore, here it is. Be forewarned, however, that this may be confusing. Proceeding chapters should help clear up the bewilderment. However, your input is very important and I'd greatly like to know if people would read this story if it is indeed continued. Nevertheless, I still hope the readers obtain some sort of satisfaction with this story, and with that wish, I will be silent. :P
Disclaimer: One Piece is not my property.
Lost Opportunities
The alley was deserted. No one was there. No one, but him.
Pfffff… went the smoke, escaping from his mouth to dance and mingle with the cool afternoon air.
The setting sun had already dipped halfway behind the horizon, causing the sky to explode in bold blends of pink and ochre, violet and blue.
Beautiful… breathed the few civilians still strolling up and down the main sidewalk. Amazing… cried the storekeepers as they observed the marvel of nature, lackadaisically preparing to close their shops for the day. He stared upward vacantly, vaguely taking note of some traversing clouds.
Pfffff…! went the smoke again, louder this time. The tips curled up like soft waves as they stretched to greet the evening sky.
It had been hot, and he had previously taken off his jacket and flung it over his shoulder in an attempt to combat the stifling heat. But now, he was again reminded of the article of clothing since the night air had begun to wrap its frigid fingers around his lean body.
He slipped it on and, after a moment of deliberation, slowly slid a hand into his coat pocket. It was there that his fingers came upon a carefully folded piece of paper.
He grimaced.
He had tried to forget that letter, tried to ignore its strangely dragging weight, but no matter how hard he attempted to push the recollection of it down into the depths of his forgotten memory, it would always find a way to writhe its way up from where it was continually damned and suffocate his surface thinking. He had fought it tirelessly all day, thinking he might find relief, but—he steadily noted as he scanned his surroundings—all he discovered was how utterly futile such a struggle was.
"Shitty luck," he muttered bitterly.
In all honestly, it was not of his own volition that he stumbled across such a particular alley. For if he had known the place had posters of her elegant portrait plastered all over its walls, if the option ever made itself present, he surely would have given up his own soul to avoid the encounter. Life was surely mocking him at that moment, wasn't it? In the past, he would likely have battled both heaven and hell if they made the regretful decision of coming between him and these pictures. But now…
He gently traced his fingers across the edges of the folded paper.
Ten minutes or so had gone by since he had slinked into the alleyway to lose the city officials that had been doggedly chasing his tail. Now, he wondered if it may have been better to have gone with them.
A sudden smirk cracked wryly on his countenance as he played with the proposal of being captured then promptly sent for execution.
He spat a curse and the smile soon shriveled into a cynical scowl: he'd die before giving the bastards the satisfaction to gloat over their prize.
Placing the cigarette which rested lankly between his fore and middle fingers to his lips, he took in a slow, methodical breath before leaning his head back against what was undoubtedly a picture of her face. He wistfully imagined that it was her lips he was closest to and was tempted to turn around and test the veracity of his conjecture, but on recalling the contents of his pocket, he thought better.
But temptation was teasing him—pulling him mischievously by the arm, by his hand, whispering in his ear—to look at what was behind him.
He gritted his teeth as he pushed the thoughts aside. No, it was his mistake. He had no right. He was too late…
"No, Sanji-san… I knew you that you'd leave one day."
He winced at the pungency of the memory.
"But will you…" she paused, gathering the strength to continue, "Will you promise me… you'll come back?"
Temptation won over his will and he whirled around and stared at the side-view portrait of the young woman. A pretty gold diadem rested regally on her head and a string of tiny gold beads hung modestly from her neck and in her flowing blue hair. But neither the crown nor the fine jewelry that marked her as a princess had struck him as profoundly as it did when he looked upon the poignant expressions of her face. Her lovely dark eyes drooped heavily to the ground, attempting to conceal what he found to be the impressions of pain. And he lightly traced a finger along the outline of her mouth, following the curve of an almost imperceptible frown.
He felt his heart throb and his chest ache.
Struck by self-disgust, he then jammed his hand into his pocket and violently pulled out the note that was the reason for so much of his present anguish. He read it once, twice, three times before flinging it onto the floor and digging it into the dirt ground much like he would with a cigarette.
Then he heard it. Footsteps. Fast, quick, and growing louder with each moment.
"I could have sworn I saw him slither his way in here," came a gruff voice.
Two men in uniform stopped at the mouth of the alley and looked in.
"Well, why the hell didn't you say so ten minutes ago?" was the irritated reply. "If he ever was here, he sure isn't now. Let's go."
But the first official wasn't quite convinced. "Do you know how much this guy's worth? We almost had him, too… Maybe he's hiding behind that crate," and he went to investigate.
The other official sighed impatiently, convinced they were wasting their time and that the culprit they had been chasing since the morning was probably safely hidden on a ship headed to a different island by now. Mockingly, he called out, "Found anything?"
Surprisingly, the first official hollered an affirmative. Puzzled he asked if had found the outlaw.
"No, but I found a letter."
The second official frowned, "A letter? From who—your mother?"
The first official ignored the trite remark and tersely answered, "It's the pirate's."
"So what is he saying?"
"He doesn't say anything," the first official dropped his gaze from the top to the bottom of the parchment. His eyes widened, and his face became aghast, "It's signed… 'Love, Vivi-chan'…" The official shot a frantic gaze toward his partner, "You don't think it's from the princess, do you?"
But the second official just stared at his comrade dully before responding, "Do you know how many goddamn 'Vivi's' this guy must know?" He spat, "You defile the princess's good name by even making such a vile suggestion."
The first official, who had been rapidly scanning through the document, suddenly paled and became stone-faced. "That may be so… But tell me, how many 'goddamn "Vivi's"' do you know that are arranged to be married in the Royal Palace of Alubarna at the end of this season…?"
The second official stopped, dumbfounded. He didn't reply, no. For a good, long minute they both just stood there staring at one another in disbelief. Suddenly, the second official turned and began walking away from the dark alley, dabbing his perspiring forehead with a handkerchief.
"Wait!" the first official exclaimed, "What are we going to do with th—"
"We—I believe it was you who found the blasted thing. And unless you want to add the princess of our country onto the world's most wanted list, I suggest you permanently dispose of that letter and forget this ever happened."
The first official swallowed hard and felt his entire body go limp as he registered what his colleague said was true. "R-right…" He stuttered, and began to follow the other official, who like him, was too thunderstruck to even fathom the thought of how such a relationship could even be possible. But before he left, he threw one last nervous glance around the little street with the posters of their beloved princess pasted all over its walls.
He paused and strained his ear as he listened for any bump, any breath that might make him believe that someone was still there.
But there was no such sound, no such giveaway. The alley was deserted. No one was there. No one, but him.