Sanji, age 7, on a small island in the North Blue…
"Now add the flour a little at a time."
Sanji's mother watched fondly as her son bit his lip in concentration, carefully adding just the right amount of flour to the mixing bowl.
"Now we crack the eggs, right?" Sanji asked, turning to look at his mother with wide blue eyes.
The thin blonde woman smiled and rubbed a bit of flour off of Sanji's cheek.
"Yup. You think you can do that without getting eggshells in the batter?"
Sanji made a face as he hopped off the stool and headed for the fridge.
"Of course!"
He carefully took three eggs out of the fridge and brought them over to the counter. He was about to place them next to the mixing bowl when the kitchen door burst open with a crash.
Sanji jumped and dropped the eggs. They broke and splattered on the kitchen floor as his father stormed into the kitchen.
"What the hell!" the tall, lithe man roared, roughly grabbing Sanji by the arm. "What do you think you're doing, woman? Teaching my son to be a pansy!"
"Honey, please," his wife pleaded, gently trying to pry Sanji out of his father's grasp. "Be gentle…"
"Stop coddling him!" Sanji's father spat. "He may have freakish girly eyebrows, but my son is a man."
"Daddy," Sanji cried, tears welling in his eyes. He tried to yank away from the firm grip on his arm.
The sharp sound of a slap echoed in the kitchen as the father struck his son across the face.
"Men don't cry, Sanji," he said, glaring down at Sanji with harsh eyes. "Men are strong. They protect weak women. They are not weak."
"Honey…" Sanji's mother whispered, a hand on her mouth.
"Clean up this mess," the father ordered his wife, indicating the sticky egg mess on the kitchen floor.
She turned away and clenched her eyes shut as Sanji's father yanked him outside. She knelt down and began to mop up the floor. She had to swallow hard and bite her lip to keep from crying as her son's screams reached her ears.
...
Later that night, Sanji sat with his mother in the house's small living room. Sanji's father had headed to the local bar for a round of drinks with his buddies.
Sanji's mother sat in a rocking chair next to the fireplace, knitting a sweater. The gentle clicking of her needles was a soothing sound in the quiet room. Sanji lay on his stomach on the floor, brushing a doll's long pink hair. He never dared to pull his dolls out from their hiding place under his bed when his father was home.
"Sanji, would you like to work on the scarf you started the other day?" his mother asked him, looking up from her knitting.
Sanji murmured something under his breath as he began to dress the pink-haired doll in a frilly red ball gown.
"What was that, darling?"
Not looking up, Sanji muttered, "Daddy said boys shouldn't knit."
His mother sighed deeply and gently set her knitting project on a side table.
"How about we go into town, Sanji," she suggested, forcing as much cheer into her voice as she could muster. "We could go to that cute little bakery and buy pastries!"
Sanji finally looked up at his mother. His young face broke into a wide grin, slightly twisted by a split lip and swollen eye.
"Okay!" he agreed, clutching his doll to his chest.
His mother returned his wide smile and ruffled his hair.
"Let's go!"
...
"Mommy, tell me about the All Blue again!" Sanji requested, bouncing up and down in his seat.
His mother laughed and put down her pastry.
"Well…" she began, leaning back in her chair. "The All Blue is the most beautiful ocean in the world."
Sanji nodded excitedly, stuffing another fluffy pink strawberry pastry in his mouth.
"And not only is it the most gorgeous ocean, but it's also the most abundant. Fish from every ocean in the world swim in the All Blue. It's the dream of every cook to discover this place."
"It's my dream, too!" Sanji declared. "I'm going to find the All Blue, and open a restaurant there!"
"And what will this restaurant look like?" she asked her son, because this was a well-rehearsed conversation they had almost any time they were alone.
"It will be the most beautiful restaurant in the world, in the most beautiful ocean in the world! It'll be decorated with flowers, and sparkles, and… and… princesses will come to my restaurant! I'll get to meet real princesses!"
Sanji's blue eyes sparkled with excitement, glittering like the ocean of his dreams.
Sanji's mother reached across the table and grabbed Sanji's hand in her own.
"I'm sure it will be the most beautiful restaurant ever," she said, smiling.
Sanji flashed her a huge grin before reached for another pink pastry.
...
It was dark out by the time the mother and son had finished eating their small, elaborately decorated pastries. They headed home, walking through dark, nearly deserted streets. Sanji clutched his mother's hand tightly.
"Do you think Daddy will be home when we get back?" he whispered nervously.
"I don't think so, honey," she answered, squeezing her son's hand and smiling down at him confidently.
"Good," Sanji answered. "Because I forgot to put my dolls away, and I don't think Daddy will be very happy if he sees them."
Sanji's mother closed her eyes for a moment and took a deep breath. Then she stopped walking and kneeled down in front of her son, placing her hands on his shoulders.
"Sanji," she said seriously, looking into his bright blue eyes.
"Mommy?" In the moonlight, his harshly beaten face looked even more swollen and sore.
It tore the gentle woman inside to see her young, innocent son hurt so badly by his own father. To know that this wasn't the first time it had happened and was likely not the last. And she had always been too afraid to do anything about it. Sanji's father swore he would never strike a woman, but when he was drunk and angry…
"Sanji," his mother repeated. "Your father is wrong. A man can cook, and knit, and play with dolls, and even wear a dress if he wants to. Don't ever let your father stop you from doing what you love."
"O-okay, Mommy," Sanji agreed, and accepted the tight hug his mother gave him.
"I love you, Sanji."
"I… I love you, too, Mommy…"
"Ohoho, how touching…"
Mother and son jumped at the loud voice that broke through the quiet night.
A tall, dark, broad-shouldered man swaggered over to the pair. His clothes were dirty and torn, and he smelled strongly of alcohol and cigarettes. A large sword hung at his hip.
Sanji's mother bounded to her feet and began to usher Sanji away from the man, rushing down the street without turning back.
"Hey, woman, where do you think you're goin'?" the man yelled, picking up his pace to catch up.
"Don't look back at him, Sanji," his mother said firmly.
"W-who is that, Mommy?" he asked nervously, clutching her hand.
"A not-nice drunk man, honey. We-" Her sentence was interrupted by a scream as the man reached out and grabbed her roughly by the wrist.
"Come here, wench," the man snarled.
"Sanji, run home!" his mother shouted, pushing her son ahead of her.
"Mommy!" Sanji screamed as his mother was yanked away from him and whirled around to face the drunk man.
"Run Sanji! Now!"
"You're a pretty woman," the man hissed, pushing his face up into hers. "Not like those ugly wenches at the bar… I like you."
"Sanji, run!"
Tears burning his eyes, Sanji charged at the man holding his mother.
"Sanji, no- urmph!"
The man clapped a grimy hand over her mouth and snarled, "What do you think you're doing, brat?"
Sanji lashed out blindly with his fist. It connected satisfyingly with flesh. A wave of scarlet blood coated his clenched fingers.
It wasn't the man's nose that had broken, though. It was his mother.
Sanji felt a wave of nausea rush over him. The man had used Sanji's mother as a shield. He had struck his own mother.
The man's grip on her face loosened enough for Sanji's mother to shout again, "Sanji! Run home now!"
Vomit rising up into his mouth, Sanji turned tail and raced home, tears blurring his vision.
...
When Sanji burst into his house, his father was standing in the middle of the living room. He had the pink-haired doll clutched in his fist and his eyes were ablaze.
"What the hell is this?" he roared, chucking the doll into the fireplace. "You were playing with dolls? What kind of man are you, Sanji?"
The scent of alcohol rolling off his father reminded Sanji of the man he'd just run away from. The wave of nausea washed over him again and he vomited onto the carpet, tears still streaming down his face.
His father slapped him hard across the face.
"Crying for a doll?" he shouted. His foot connected with Sanji's ribs.
"Mommy!" Sanji screamed, rolling himself into a little ball as his father's blows rained down on him. "Mommy!"
"Calling for your mother? Weakling!"
"Mommy! A man took Mommy! And he had a sword! And…"
His father's blows stopped suddenly.
"What did you say?"
Sanji whimpered.
"What did you say?" his father repeated, yanking Sanji up by his collar.
"A not-nice drunk man took Mommy!"
His father's dark eyes widened. Then he dropped his grip on Sanji's collar, letting his son fall to the floor with a crash.
He raced out of the house, leaving Sanji sobbing on the living room floor in a puddle of his own blood and tears.
...
To Sanji, it seemed like his father returned only minutes later, but might have been much longer.
The angry man burst into the living room, his face redder than Sanji had ever seen it.
"Do you… You… She… How could…"
His fists shook. He couldn't form complete sentences. Instead, his foot connected with Sanji's ribs again, setting the boy flying halfway across the room.
"He killed her!" Sanji's father finally roared, kicking his son again. "That man killed you mother!"
All the air went out of Sanji's lungs. His heart seemed to stop beating. He didn't even feel the blows that rained down on him.
His mother.
Was dead.
"You're a man, Sanji! Men protect women! You should have protected your mother! You let him kill her!"
Sanji tried to scramble to his knees, but his father kicked him, hard, and sent him sprawling again.
"Worthless pansy!"
Another kick, and this one sent Sanji hurtling into the fireplace. He screamed as the flames licked his face, searing his left eye.
His father yanked him by the back of the shirt and tossed him against the opposite wall. He was breathing hard, but the brunt of his anger seemed to have subsided.
Sanji curled up tightly, pressed up against the wall. He was sobbing, clutching his face, his eyes clamped shut.
He heard his father storm out of the room and slam the door shut hard enough to make the whole house rattle.
...
Early morning sun had begun to stream into the room by the time Sanji finally managed to move his bloodied and battered body. He stumbled to his feet.
He walked past the fireplace, now burnt down to nothing but orange coals. A twisted mass of blackened, melted plastic was all that remained of his favourite pink-haired doll.
He stumbled out the door and onto the street. The docks weren't far away.
He refused to think about his mother. Only one thought consumed his mind- leave. Leave this island and get as far away as possible. Maybe leave the North Blue, too.
He stumbled onto the docks, feeling sick and dizzy.
"Hey, kid, are you lost?" A short, stocky man walked up to him, raising an eyebrow.
"I can cook," Sanji gasped, looking up at him. "I can clean and do chores and do whatever you like. Just take me with you!"
"I don't think that's such a good idea, kid," the man said, crossing his arms. "You look like crap, too. What happened to you?"
"Please," Sanji begged, falling to his knees. "Take me away."
The man looked down at the kid and grimaced. His face was bruised and bloody, the left side sporting an angry red burn.
"Well, let's at least get those wounds looked at," the man conceded, scooping the kid up in his large arms.
Sanji let out a relieved sigh as the man took him onto the deck of a large passenger ship.
"Are you going to the All Blue?" he asked softly, already slipping into unconsciousness.
The man laughed, shaking his head.
"No one believes that old myth."
"I'm gonna find the All Blue… and open my own restaurant… the most beautiful restaurant in the world…" Sanji whispered as his consciousness faded into the darkness.