Author's Notes: Obviously do not own One Piece or anything having to do with it. Sorry in advance for misspellings, etc. I read it over a few times, but you can never be 100% sure. :)
"Fight me!" Sanji raised tiny, stubborn fists. "Come on, old man!" Zeff raised an eyebrow at the little eggplant, setting down a knife, but otherwise exhibiting no reaction that could even BEGIN satisfy the boy. Sanji growled, dropping low into a flawed fighting stance. "Or are you too chickenshit to try?" The man stroked calmly at his braided mustache, a full-blown smirk on his face.
Lunging forward suddenly, Sanji pulled back his fist, shouting, "Just looking at your face pisses me off!" With that, he drove his fist toward the man's gut. And had it been anyone else, he might've landed the punch. He might've even left a dent in his victim despite his scrawny arms and slight stature. As it was, however, fate had never been particularly kind to Sanji – and it just so happened that he was trying to punch this old man. This old man who easily sidestepped the rampant fist and slammed his capable leg into the boy's mouth, before spinning and sending a well-placed kick into his side. You know, just for good measure.
And Sanji flew, for a few seconds. He might've blacked out. He wasn't sure. He definitely couldn't suck quite enough air into his quivering lungs, clutching his side. He shifted dry wall and debris from his body, brushing dust from his light hair, eyes scrunching up in contemplation. He sat; quiet, among the decimated wall. He was quite the pitiful sight.
Chancing a look up, he noticed that Zeff had already turned back to the cutting board, precisely slicing vegetables at the speed of light. Sanij cleared his throat, swiping his tongue over the lip currently in the process of swelling to the size of a balloon.
"Old man," he croaked, pushing up onto his destroyed knees, wobbling on unsteady feet. "Oi! Shithead!" The chopping didn't cease. Wiping blood from his mouth roughly, our Sanji, our little cook, roared, "TEACH ME TO FIGHT!"
Finally: silence.
Zeff didn't bother turning around, quickly stifling the mischievous grin threatening to split his face in two. He knew that he had made the right decision, saving this little asshole. Sanji breathed heavily somewhere behind him, anxious, balled fists trembling.
"First rule," the gravelly voice boomed. "Never use your hands!" With that, he roundhouse kicked the boy back through the hole in the wall, where he belonged.
And he could've been imagining it, he was getting a bit old anyhow, but he was pretty sure he heard a muffled, "Whatever you say, shitty old man!"
But that could just be wishful thinking.