Sanji normally paid attention to any lady that came by, young or old-after all, those elderly women still needed a gentleman to help them cross the street and to kiss their hands, and the young girls always seemed to respond well to a flower. Not all of Sanki's intentions were perverse, after all. Only some of them.

But there were two ladies in particular who he paid the most attention to-the lovely navigator of the Going Merry, for one, and the second, newest recruit was the noble princess who joined their ranks.

And, what Sanji noticed, the princess seemed to spend all day in the galley. It wasn't as if he didn't love having the woman around, but he found himself questioning whether or not she was only there because she felt obligated. Vivi had such a strong sense of responsibility, and the only words she ever seemed to say were, "Is there anything you need, Sanji?"

So, Sanji decided to ask her one day. As he minced a few onions, he turned his head and asked casually, "Princess, if you like, you can relax out on the deck. It's a sunny day outside. I would be honoured to make you a cool drink."

Immediately, she started, and blushed scarlet, (and oh, Sanji marveled, the blush stood out just perfectly upon her pale cheeks), and said in a rather high pitched voice, "O-oh, if I'm a bother, I can just...um... leave."

"You don't have to do that," Sanji replied, a bit dismayed. "You're just always here. Was there anything you wanted?" While he spoke, his eyes remained upon the dish he was making. Currently, he was putting mutton in a mixing bowl and slowly mixing the onions into it.

"Well..." Vivi licked her lips and took a seat at the table. "I just like watching you cook." She leaned back, a small, nostalgic smile upon her face. "Back home, I never really learned how to cook. Nobody who was royalty did."

"Really?" Sanji commented, rolling the meat into balls. "So you wanted to learn?"

"No, I'd hate to be a bother, I mean-" Vivi paused to see the mildly reprimanding look on Sanji's face and ducked her head. "I'd love to learn. But I don't think I could be any good at it..."

"Everybody can learn how to cook," Sanji said, a rare smile upon his face as he slid some dough from out of the icebox and began to place the meat balls into the dough. "Would you like to help me now? I would love to be helped by a beautiful young lady such as yourself. Of course, if you would rather me serve you, I would be just as pleased."

"Oh...well..." Vivi stood up and went to stand beside Sanji at the counter. "If I could help just a little bit, then? Or just watch?"

"Of course. See, right now, I'm making psihalivas. I thought they would remind you of home. It's Arabasta cuisine, isn't it?"

"Oh, that's right! We used to have these for supper every day. The chef was so good at cooking, too."

Sanji grinned, the taste of competition in his mouth, "Well we'll see how mine match up to his." He gestured at the plate full of the dumplings. "See how they all stick together?"

Vivi nodded. "Uh huh?"

"Well, you put a tablespoon of butter onto the plate and shake it." He spoke while doing the movements. "This means that it doesn't stick, plus the outside gains a crunchy texture and a golden colour. Would you like to put the dumplings into the boiling water? Only fifteen to twenty should go in at the same time. Make sure they don't stick to each other."

"Oh, um... okay." Looking quite concentrated upon such a menial task, she carefully dropped them in as Sanji stuck the handle of a wooden spoon to deftly steer the dumplings apart.

"While those are cooking, I'm going to making a soup. Was there a soup that Arabasta was known for, Vivi?" The look in Sanji's eyes told the princess that she already knew. She smiled.

"Corn soup?"

"You got it." Sanji moved towards the icebox, and took out two corns on the cob.

The two cooked the evening away, and once dinner was eaten (and so were a few spoons), Sanji brought her into the kitchen and taught her to cook any luscious dessert they had the ingredients for.

Vivi watched Sanji as he moved effortlessly around the kitchen, not for one second taking his eyes off of her. Every nook and cranny, every whisk, spatula, and odd flimsy contraption Vivi had no name for was known to the chef. The look on his face when he was talking about his craft-well! Vivi had never seen such an expression on his face. It was not the cocky smirk that the swordsman seemed to know so well, nor was it the doting expression Nami grabbed ahold of and dangled upon a string, but a broad, easy grin that made him look younger than his experiences.

"The funny things about desserts," Sanji said to her as he whipped eggs that flew up and above the metal bowl in a haphazardous manner, "is that they're just one 's' away from desert." He inhaled his cigarette, and placed it aside as to not get any stray ashes into the dish. "The desert is so dry and grainy, you'd think you wouldn't get any good desserts from there. But it's the ideal climate to make curds. Not to mention dates and currants."

Listening to him speak, she nodded eagerly and filed all this information away. She watched his smile. Then, widely, briefly, she smiled too.

They feasted upon the cuisine of his country that night, creamy custards and mouthwatering cakes laced with chocolate and mints. Vivi had never had such foods before, and she delighted in them, just as much as Sanji delighted in introducing her to his world, where everything had a scent, had a texture, had some delightful aspect to it that exploded in her mouth.

For the first time in a long time, when Vivi slept that night, she dreamed not of sunken eyes and Igaram's cry, but of another world-East Blue, a place she would never see.

A week later, Vivi tried her shot at making breakfast for the entire crew. Sanji gave her subtle directions, even as she told him sternly that he was not to help her in any way. He brewed coffee, and watched her move, bright cheeked and bright eyed as she fumbled around the unfamiliar area.

When breakfast was served, with Sanji casting a suspicious eye upon stained pans, the crew prodded at the stuff with vague interest.

Unfortunately, even Luffy participated in the sentiment that, "this sucks", and that "the shitty cook really did turn into a shitty cook," complete with inquiries from Usopp if Sanji was feeling all right this morning.

Vivi flushed as it was revealed that she was the cook - ("Oi, oi, Vivi made it,") - but refused all apologies and Nami saying generously that the coffee was delicious. She promised to try harder.

One night, as Vivi and Sanji sat in the kitchen as usual, he remarked in an off hand, hopeful fashion, "I don't suppose they have a suitor fixed for you at your home, my princess?"

Vivi eyed him warily. "No..."

He outstretched a hand on the table, his smirk broadening. "Well, I don't know the courtesies in Arabasta, but, if I can be so brash as to ask a lovely lady for a kiss-"

Vivi placed a hand upon Sanji's outreached one - and oh, how she ihated/i it when Sanji spoke in flowery speeches full of dedication to princesses - and shook her head, still smiling. "I'm sorry," she said, sincerely. "Sanji." She stood up, turned her back to the chef, and walked out, saying, "Good night," only as an afterthought.

--

Lying in bed, she had to wonder whether or not the cooking lesson would continue, but after a short moment, she decided that they probably wouldn't. A pang of regret clenched in her chest until she detected the faint scent of something sweet from outside the room. Nami sat up from where she was sitting on her bed, looking rather confused before Vivi silenced her with a look. She opened the door to an Arabastan dessert-a date loaf encircled with a sweet sauce that decorated the otherwise spotless plate. From a toothpick inside of it, there was a note:

"Come to the kitchen at 5 PM tomorrow. You're cooking."

Vivi's grin was as wide as she was sure her belly would be by the end of the trip. She and Nami ate the dessert together, speaking of light subjects, like the contents of Luffy's stomach, or Usopp's latest lie, or how strange Zoro looked whenever he smiled as viciously as he glared.

Sanji was waiting for Vivi in the kitchen that evening, all of the dishes already measured out and prepped for her. When she opened her mouth to object, he merely smiled, and told her, "The cooking is what it important. Any asshole can measure."

She paused, opened her mouth, and closed it again. She was long used to the cussing that came from Zoro and Sanji's mouths alone (and Nami! Oh, that woman could swear like a sailor when she got mad), but she still found herself lost for words when they did.

This time, she allowed Sanji to direct her, to place his hands over hers as they stirred each dish and prepared every crust, dressing and flourish with great attention. Once, when Sanji's hands were over hers, she glanced up at him, looking for some sort of ulterior motive, but she found none-he was not looking at her, but the dish, with a look of contentment upon his face.

Smiling, she continued to cook without any suspicion for the rest of the evening.

When it was all done, Luffy shoveled it into his mouth, saying what was presumed to be, "This is yummy!" past a mouthful of food, and smiling, Nami told her that the food was very good. Usopp was quick to join in at this sentiment, as was the ever enthusiastic Chopper. Zoro, although silent, gave her an appraising look, which was a rare expression from the serious swordsman.

This time, she flushed with pride, and with the knowledge that the best cook she knew had sat down to eat her food.

--

When they reached Arabasta, all thoughts of nights spent sampling desserts and smiling at whatever ludicrous stories Sanji had to tell flew out of Vivi's mind. She thought only of rebellions, of lost friends, of death and of war. When Sanji touched her hand in an attempt to comfort her, she brushed him away.

That sort of thing was for her own personal happiness, and she had no time for that right now. She had to save her country, and no amount of smiles and laughter could change that. No smile, genuine or false, no tears running down lily white faces could rid this country of its turmoil.

The time crawled and sped by all at once. Vivi didn't smile. Neither did Sanji.

By the time Vivi saw Sanji, really saw him, not through glasses of tears and blood and joyous, joyous rain and Kohza and her father and of Sundays and Wednesdays and Crocodiles and bombs and terror, Sanji was long gone.

He smiled at her, but it wasn't the brief, joyous smile that she saw back in the kitchen. It was a tired smile, too tired, full of weariness and joy all at the same time. "It's over," he told her, and she let him clasp her hand, if not only for a moment."

"It's over," she agreed. And then she left him, for she had a country to govern, and to worry over, and old friends that needed tears and bandages.

But finally, when she got to see her nakama again, she could have cried with relief. But no joyous smiles were seen from them-their captain was still out for the count, and nobody would be able to relax again until they heard the familiar clang of plates, Nami's screams, and the rest of nonsense that seemed to revolve around the Straw Hats.

After the feast that night, Vivi pulled Sanji apart from the rest. To show him her world, just as he showed her his, through food. Throughout the night, she kept the chef busy with genuine Arabastan desserts.

She had been surprised, she had to admit, to see that there were foods that Sanji knew nothing of that had been served, but he had seen nothing until he had tasted their desserts. That night, Sanji visited Arabasta, ireally/i visited Arabasta, through texture and taste, density and creaminess, through unfamiliar tastes and the grit of sand that got everywhere clenched underneath his teeth. And he smiled, and Vivi smiled, and even if they were not lovers, they were nakama, and they were happy.

But then Sanji had to leave. They all did. And Vivi could not go with them, for even as her heart ached for those nights, she loved her country, and the country needed her. She only wished that she could see their faces, one last time.

And Sanji granted her wish, as usual. His left arm held up straight into the air, he glanced behind him, and gave her the same, brief, joyous smile she had learned to love. And she smiled back.

They parted not as lovers, but as nakama, as it should have been.

But another time, Vivi whispered to Carue on the long ride back. Some other time, some other place, something could have happened.

But for now, she would remain smiling.