Pairings: None
Language: Nothing worse than the s-word.
Timeline: Set after Enies Lobby
Disclaimer: I don't own One Piece
It was quiet, one of the very few quiet nights seen on the Grand Line, where giant whirlpools, tsunamis, and extreme weather changes were as normal as green grass. On this exceptional night, a certain ship was swaying gently on the waves, bathing in the gentle light of a clear starry night.
The straw hat crew was still getting used to the Thousand Sunny. It was much larger than the Going Merry, with many more features and cola-powered weapons on board than their former ship had possessed. Each member of the crew had his or her own space to become familiar with as well—places that they considered completely their own, their sanctuaries, and while the other members of the crew tended to stay out of their nakama's sanctuaries, there was one that got a few more visitors than the others.
"SANJI! FOOD!"
The chef was out on the deck, leaning against the rail and enjoying a smoke. It was such a beautiful night, free of clouds and wind, with the stars twinkling brightly in a brilliant canopy. The crew had all found themselves outside on the lawn, relaxing and enjoying a rare peaceful moment in their hectic lives.
All except for Luffy, that is.
Sanji glanced up, finding Luffy leaning over the upper rail, drooping over the wood like he was dying. The cook sighed. It was late, but he didn't really mind. He was in a good humor. Marimo was up in the crow's nest, either napping or training—he neither knew nor cared. Nami-san and Robin-chan had both complimented him on their afternoon treats that day, to his utter joy, and now, with the peaceful atmosphere, he had found himself relaxed and happy.
Sanji stubbed out his cigarette on the bottom of his shoe, not the kind of person to damage the brand new ship, and slipped his hands into his pockets. "Alright, Luffy. I'll cook something."
Luffy beamed. "Whoo! Make lots of meat, Sanji!" With that, the exuberant captain sprinted back into the galley.
"Don't eat anything before I get there," Sanji called out sharply, but Luffy was already gone. He sighed, mourning the fact that his poor kitchen was always being bombarded by his rubbery fool of a captain. The rest of the crew was laughing, or smiling in Robin's case, and Sanji fixed them with an unimpressed look. "If any of you want something as well, come on up. I'll whip up enough for everyone."
"Sounds super!" Franky said with his normal enthusiasm. The cyborg was the newest member of the crew and the novelty of Sanji's cooking hadn't worn off for him yet.
Of course, it hadn't worn off for Luffy either, but then again, Luffy ate so fast that it was doubtful he actually even tasted anything.
The others all agreed to come along as well. Sanji briefly considered calling the shitty swordsman down from his perch, but decided against it. He could always leave a warm plate for him when he finally crawled out of his hole. 'Tch'. Marimo are supposed to be sensitive to their habitat anyway. Stupid floating moss ball.'
Meanwhile, Luffy – exactly three seconds after entering the kitchen – grew tired of waiting for Sanji. The young captain frowned, scratched his head, and then made up his mind. Striding over to the cupboards, he started opening and rifling through them in search of food.
He wasn't familiar with where things were kept in the new kitchen, though. Sanji had organized and arranged everything himself (completely ignoring Luffy's suggestion to pack every nook and cranny with meat), and all Luffy found were various dishes and silverware. The fridge had a lock on it, as did the pantry, so those options were out.
Luffy's stomach growled, and he moaned in response. Sanji was taking sooo long.
Luffy crouched down, opening the bottom cupboard in the very back corner of the kitchen. An olive green box caught his eye. Medium in size, it looked just big enough to hold some mystery treasure. A grin spread across his face as his curiosity successfully took over (after all, what kind of pirate would he be if he didn't explore absolutely everything?).
He pulled the box out of the cupboard, set it on the counter, and pulled the lid off. He was immediately disappointed. It was not filled with treasure, as he had hoped, or meat, as he had really hoped. The entire box was stuffed full of cigarette packs, with a few lighters scattered in as well. There was however one interesting thing in the box, lying right on top of the pile of cigarettes.
The door to the kitchen swung open and Sanji entered, followed by the rest of the crew sans Zoro.
Luffy turned to his cook, not knowing the meaning of 'secret' or 'privacy'. "SUGEEE, Sanji! You have a gun!"
There were mixed reactions to that statement. Usopp blinked, cocked his head, and said, "Eh?" Nami and Robin both looked mildly surprised. Chopper gave a little squeak, backing away several steps and looking frightened.
Franky leaned forward to see past the upper cabinets and said, "Really? You people all seemed like you didn't have much use for guns."
Sanji himself just scowled at Luffy. "I told you to wait, damnit," he said shortly, striding into the kitchen and kicked Luffy out, literally.
Luffy crashed into the wall, hard enough to rattle the cabinets, but not nearly hard enough to damage the Adam Wood the ship was built with. Luffy was unharmed, but the sudden noise did serve to break the surprised atmosphere that had enveloped the kitchen. Usopp seemed to recall something. He dropped his fist into his palm and said, "Oh yeah! That's the gun you threatened Robin with!"
Chopper and Luffy screeched in unison, "Sanji! You threatened Robin?!"
Nami knocked Luffy back to the ground with a punch to the back of his head. "You idiot, you were there! That was when Robin was still our enemy."
Luffy sat up again, looking like he'd had an epiphany. "Oh, that's right."
"Eh?!" Chopper said, still looking nervous. "I don't remember that!"
Franky was blinking in confusion. "Curly Cook pointed a gun at Nico Robin?"
"That's right," Usopp said, turning to Franky and Chopper in contemplation. "Neither of you had joined the crew yet."
Nami sighed and dropped her head into her palm. Robin just laughed. "I was once the Straw Hat's enemy," she explained. "Luffy allowed me to join his crew after saving my life."
"Oh?" Franky asked. "Well if she was your enemy, why is it so surprising that Curly Cook pointed a gun at her?"
"Two reasons," said Nami, holding up two fingers. "First, Sanji-kun never uses weapons that require using his hands. Second, Sanji-kun would rather die than kick a woman."
"Ow! That's some super honor code, bro!" He hit his favorite pose, much to Usopp, Chopper, and Luffy's delight.
Sanji wasn't really paying attention to his crewmates. He was busy pulling leftover sea king meat out of the fridge (caught, courtesy of the stupid Marimo-Head) and heating up his giant fry pan with some oil. He doubted the others would be interested in fifty pounds of flesh, but he could fix something separate for them once Luffy was fed.
He did however hear Usopp, as the sniper said, "I'd forgotten about that gun. Where'd you get it anyway, Sanji?"
"Yeah," said Nami, sitting down at the bar and resting her elbows on the counter. "And why'd you use it on Robin and not any of the other people we've had on our ship?"
"I didn't use it on her," Sanji said with a pout. "I just pointed it at her."
"She's got a good point though," said Franky. "I'm super curious too."
"As am I," said Robin with a small smile that almost seemed taunting.
"Sanji, I'm hungry."
"Wait for it to finish cooking," Sanji snapped, slapping away a rubber arm as it snaked towards the hot, sizzling meat in the pan. He sighed then, unable to refuse a request from his two favorite ladies. "Well, both those questions are part of one story actually. Back from my days on the Baratie."
The other straw hats gathered around as Sanji began to speak.
Seven years ago on the Baratie:
Eleven-year-old Sanji was in a very foul mood. His lip hurt, his pride hurt, and his feelings hurt.
He was curled up on the bed in his room, the only other private bedroom on the Baratie beside Zeff's. The other chefs all bunked together in the men's quarters, and while Sanji had sometimes wished he didn't have his own room, just so the other guys wouldn't pick on him, right now he was grateful for the privacy.
Or the privacy he would have had if the door to his room hadn't swung open at that very moment.
Sanji's back was to the door, so he couldn't see who had entered his domain, but he didn't need to. He'd recognize the uneven gait anywhere, the thunk of wood on wood every other step.
He didn't acknowledge his mentor.
The footsteps stopped as they neared the bed. Sanji could just picture the angry gaze of the Head Chef as he stared at his protégé, but the lecture never came, nor did the kick he was expecting. Zeff didn't say anything, as though he was waiting for Sanji to acknowledge him. Sanji held out for two minutes before his own volatile temper, already simmering just beneath the surface, finally boiled over.
He rolled over, fixing the looming figure with his dirtiest glare. "What do you want, Shit Geezer?"
Zeff, to his astonishment, didn't appear that angry. He looked more resigned, if anything. Zeff looked down at him for a beat before saying, "I heard what happened. Patty and Carne told me."
"Yeah, well they should mind their own damn business," Sanji snapped, wincing when he realized how childish he sounded. He reached over for the pack of cigarettes lying on his nightstand, but Zeff quickly knocked them out of reach with his wooden leg.
Sanji snarled at the old man. "What do you think you're doing, Shitty Geezer?"
"I told you, Little Eggplant," Zeff said, infuriatingly calm, "those things will kill your taste buds."
"Like I give a crap," Sanji said.
"You did a crappy job patching yourself up," Zeff said, staring pointedly at Sanji's split lip. "You should have asked for help."
"Like I'm gonna!" Sanji said, growing even angrier, something he had thought impossible. "None of the other chefs take me seriously as it is, 'cause I'm only eleven. What would they think if I went crying to them like some baby?" Sanji growled. "I'm not weak!"
"You ain't strong either, brat," Zeff said, the first hint of heat in his voice. "I think they all saw that today."
Sanji scoffed. "Whatever. Like I care." But he did. And it was taking everything he had in him not to cry. Eleven-year-old almost-sous-chefs didn't cry, especially not in front of their boss/mentor.
But his day really hadn't been good. Sanji had unwisely gotten caught up in a fight with one of the customers on the Baratie. Sanji had gotten a punch in the face with a pair of brass knuckles, and as he had lain dazed on the floor, the man would definitely have continued beating the ever-living snot out of him had Patty not intervened.
It was humiliating having to be saved, but even embarrassment didn't overpower the sheer rage Sanji still felt towards that customer.
"He disrespected the food!" Sanji blurted out.
Zeff looked at him like he was an idiot and Sanji felt his face redden. "Listen to me, Little Eggplant, the only people on this earth that have the right to make their opinions known are the people who are strong." He leaned forward and poked Sanji on the forehead. "And you are not strong."
Sanji batted the hand away. "But I'm not weak! And I'll become strong! The strongest person in East Blue!"
Zeff barked out a laugh. "That ain't much to aim for, brat."
"The world then!"
Zeff shook his head contemplating Sanji for a moment. Finally, he tossed something at the boy, a gun, which Sanji caught, confused.
"What's this?"
"What's it look like?"
Sanji scowled. "Why the hell are you giving me a pistol?"
"Because you have a long way to go before you can call yourself strong," Zeff said. "Hang onto that for a while. I need to think about something."
"What?" Sanji asked.
"You'll find out… maybe. Now remember, there's only one shot, so don't use it unless you absolutely have to," Zeff said. "No more threatening pirates with kitchen knives. If you're keen on being strong, then kick their asses yourself. You got both legs, boy."
Sanji scowled, but he could have sworn he saw Zeff's lip twitch.
Zeff left shortly after that, and even though the exchange between them had been heated and full of insults (mostly on Sanji's part), the young chef felt oddly comforted.
Sanji kept the pistol on his person at all times after that. He spent most of his time in the kitchen, cooking or getting yelled at by Zeff and kicked through walls. For a few days, all was back to normal, and it made Sanji happy. He figured that there wouldn't be another fight in the restaurant for a while, since one had just barely happened, so he didn't think he'd actually have a chance to use the gun, and it floated to the back of his mind.
And then the pirates came.
The Baratie was no stranger to pirates, and with the head chef a former pirate, and the rest of the chefs acting like pirates even if they weren't, it wasn't as if they were ill-equipped to handle them.
It was all business as usual. Patty had come out after a waiter informed him that a group of pirates were refusing to pay. With a big cheesy grin plastered on his face, the chef not so subtly insulted the pirate captain and demanded that they pay. Sanji knew what would happen next. The pirates would refuse to pay, then Patty and the other chefs would beat them up and throw them out, probably taking all the money they had on them.
Sanji shook his head. He was being forced to play as an extra waiter today since it was busier than usual and there was only one other guy brave enough to work in the lion's den. As he headed to a table to deliver an order, his eye caught movement in the corner of the dining room, and when he turned to look, his blood ran cold.
There, at a table, was another group of pirates as well, obviously under the same captain, because one of the men had a pistol pointed right at the back of Patty's head. Sanji's eyes widened. The pirate captain that Patty was trying to part from his money had stood up, and it looked like he and Patty were about to start duking it out. The problem was that Patty didn't know that someone had a gun on him, and by the time Sanji could call out a warning, it would be too late.
The other chefs were just emerging from the kitchen, apparently having smelt trouble, and were ready for the epic beat down that was about to take place, but Sanji had already set the food down on the nearest table (no need to waste it) and pulled out his own weapon.
He aimed and fired, but whether it was his own inexperience in handling firearms or a sloppy mistake from whomever had used it before him, Sanji somehow found his hands burning with pain from the gunpowder. The pain startled him and he fell backwards from the recoil and the shock of what he'd done. His bullet completely missed its mark, shooting past the pirate shooter, but the noise of it being fired threw off the pirate's aim, and the enemy bullet whizzed past Patty's ear harmlessly. Sanji's own bullet ricocheted off the crossed swords decorating the back wall, bounced a few more times around the room, spooking the already terrified customers, and shot straight into the pirate captain's right buttock.
His howl of pain and rage was drowned out by the sudden battle cry the pirates and chefs all let out at that moment. Everything erupted into chaos. Half the restaurant tore towards the exit like a pack of terrified animals, scrambling over and around each other in their haste. The other half cheered and laughed, beris exchanging hands as bets were made on the outcome of the fight. In the din, Patty was somehow separated from his opponent, and ended up fighting elsewhere. With no one else in the immediate area, the pirate captain's eyes fell right onto Sanji and the smoking gun in his lap.
Sanji's eyes widened. His hands hurt, he was weaponless, and now he was face to face with an angry pirate. He'd heard it said that the most dangerous kind of animal was an injured one, and he certainly believed it as he noted the feral glint in the eyes of the pirate. He scooted backwards, but only made it a few feet before his back hit a table. There was nowhere to run in the makeshift battleground that the dining room had been turned into, and it seemed that no one was in any position to come help him. Sanji was on his own.
The pirate looked down at him and, seeing the panic in Sanji's eyes and the fact that there was no one else around, suddenly smiled madly. He growled, "I'm going to tear you apart, you damn brat, piece by piece until you're begging me for death," and looked perfectly delighted at the prospect.
That was the moment that Sanji said, 'Screw it.'
He'd been through a lot of shit in his short life, and a lot of it had been much worse than a threat from some no-name pirate scum. Hell, even just working in the kitchen was scarier than this, because Sanji usually got into a fight with Zeff at least once a day and the crappy geezer never had any qualms about kicking his student's head in. Being as it may that Red Leg Zeff was famous for his kicks being the strongest, Sanji knew for a fact that whatever this pirate was planning on doing to him probably wouldn't be as painful as whatever Zeff would do once he realized that he'd majorly screwed up with the gun.
But this pirate had done something unforgivable. And yeah, maybe Sanji was weak, maybe he'd never be as strong as his mentor, but that didn't matter anymore. Because someone was threatening his home, Zeff's dream, and he owed it to the shitty geezer to protect that dream.
So he did the only thing he could think of.
He leapt to his feet, dodged a vicious blow from the pirate's fist that just barely grazed his jaw, planted his left leg firmly on the ground, and drove his right foot into the man's chest with all his strength.
Immediately, he felt a shooting pain somewhere in his knee, but it was quickly forgotten as the adrenaline in his system seemed to double. To his utter astonishment, though, the man was flung backwards, not flying through the air like Zeff would have done, but enough that the man fell backwards, hitting his head on the bar with a sickening crack and slumping to the floor unconscious.
There was a moment of confusion, when the dining room fell completely silent and still as the fighters and spectators all froze. Then everything started up again, twice as loud as before. The pirate's minions immediately shrieked for the captain, rushing to his side and giving the Baratie chefs the opportunity to pounce on them and finish their fights. The pirates were thrown bodily from the restaurant. With their captain down for the count, they didn't dare do anything but run with their tails tucked between their legs.
Sanji didn't really care though. Ignoring the shouts directed at him from the other chefs, he limped away as soon as he was sure the Baratie was safe. He started down the hall to his room where he could access his stash of bandages in peace. Whatever Patty and the others wanted to say to him could wait. He didn't feel like being scolded. His hands hurt.
He'd gotten burns before, knew how to treat them, and even if his current ones were a little different, he could manage.
Sanji had just finished wrapping his hands with clean bandages when the door opened. There was only one person who ever came into his room unannounced. Zeff came stomping over, plopping down on the bed beside the boy. Sanji ignored him, as usual.
When Zeff produced a pistol from his apron pocket, Sanji shot him a sharp look. Zeff was staring contemplatively at the weapon.
"Never thought you'd have a chance to fire this before I made up my mind."
"What do you want," Sanji snapped, too tired to care about much of anything.
"You'll need to take a break from the kitchen for a while with those hands," Zeff said casually, for once refraining from berating him and shaming him that he allowed his hands of all things to be damaged. He had given Sanji the gun, after all.
Sanji bristled. "I'm fine. I don't need a break."
"I'll decide who needs a break or not," Zeff said, a menacing growl rumbling in his chest.
Sanji glared.
"But I never said you'd be taking it easy, did I?" He tucked the gun away. "You have above average leg strength and bone density. Not everyone can take one of my kicks and live to tell about it. In fact, no one else could take as many kicks as you and still be walking around like everything's fine."
"What's you point?" Sanji asked.
"My point is, I'm going to teach you to fight."
Sanji's head snapped towards Zeff so fast he felt his neck crack, and his eyes widened. "Are you crazy? I can't fight with my hands like this!" He held up his hands, only to receive a sharp kick to the head from Zeff, who didn't even need to stand up to deliver it.
"You stupid brat. Do you really think I'd ever teach a cook to fight with his hands?" The old man glared. "I'm going to teach you my own style. Red Leg Style."
Sanji gaped, the pain in his head already fading into the background of that astonishing statement.
"But… but…" He shook his head in disbelief. "But you told me I'm weak!"
"You are! Compared to every bastard out there on the sea, you're nothing! But I just told you, nobody else could take the beating I've been giving you. No one. You want to become strong? Well, you can. So, fight for it."
Zeff stood up and Sanji gaped at him, still unable to believe the turn of events.
"That kick was the most pathetic thing I've ever seen," Zeff said crossing his arms. "The next time you kick a person, their bones better break."
And with that, he left.
Sanji's training began as soon as his knee stopped hurting, which was just over a day.
At first, it was just endurance. Zeff refused point blank to teach Sanji any actual kicking techniques before he got his leg strength up. Sanji did squats for hours on end, swam laps around the Baratie with his hands tied behind his back, and ran on the giant fin that surrounded the Baratie. When Sanji's hands healed, Zeff started having him practice handstands and increase his upper body strength to enhance the power of his legs.
It took a long time, but finally the former pirate began teaching Sanji the famous Red Leg Martial Arts. Once Sanji had learned the basics, the almost-sous-chef started branching out, throwing in acrobatics and agility to create his own style. When he showed Zeff, the former pirate had nodded in approval, telling Sanji that he needed to make his own damn name and not ride on the fame of his master ("You're not my master, you Shitty Geezer!")
And the next time Sanji kicked a man, after the man had gone too far and disrespected the food, Sanji could feel the snap of bones beneath his feet as the man flew through the air and made a nice man-sized hole in the wall.
Even if he did receive a nasty kick from Zeff for the damage, it had been worth it to see the looks on Patty and Carne's faces.
Years later, when it was time for Sanji to say goodbye to the Baratie and depart on his new journey with Monkey D. Luffy, Zeff pulled him aside from packing and pressed something wrapped in cloth into Sanji's hands: Sanji's old gun, the one that had started everything.
Sanji frowned and looked at his mentor curiously. "What's this for?" Sanji didn't understand. Was Zeff making fun of him?
"The Grand Line is a dangerous place," Zeff said simply, crossing his arms over his chest.
Sanji scowled. "I know that, shit geezer. You don't think I can handle myself?" He tapped his shoe on the deck. There was a sharp splintering sound.
Zeff growled. "You can handle anyone just fine when you actually fight."
Sanji bristled. "What's that supposed to mean?"
"Your ridiculous code!"
Sanji scoffed. "Is that what you care about? Look, I'll be fine. You've taught me everything you know. I'm not worried." He tried to thrust the gun back at his mentor, but the older chef just reached out and took Sanji shoulder in a firm grip.
Zeff sighed, oddly resigned. "Look boy, there's a lot about the Grand Line that you don't know, and no matter what you might think, there are women out there that are just pure evil. They will manipulate, bribe, and cajole others into doing what they want, and they won't hesitate to threaten others and use them as hostages. They'll manipulate you and your dumb code."
Sanji raised his eyebrow, dubious. "And your point?"
"You don't kick women. Fine. Don't kick 'em then, but when you're out there on that sea, and some woman comes along and threatens something or someone important to you," he curled his foster son's fingers around the weapon and pushed it back towards him, "just shoot her."
Luffy, having just finished the Sea King snack Sanji had made him as the cook told the story, grinned and leaned back in his chair, his stomach expanded absurdly. "Whew! That was good. Sanji makes the best food!"
Franky was bawling his eyes out, trying in vain to wipe away waterfalls of tears. "That was so beautiful! The super bond between mentor and student." He sniffed. "I'm not crying!"
Sanji looked annoyed. "It's not an emotional story."
"I think it was quite touching, Cook-san," Robin said.
Hearts shone out of Sanji's eyes and he clasped his hands in delight. "Ah! Robin-chan is so thoughtful!"
Usopp was contemplating Sanji with narrowed eyes. "Hmm. I always just thought Sanji had always had monster strength."
"Mhm," Chopper agreed with a nod.
Sanji just shook his head. "Nah. Just ask Luffy or Zoro. No one just becomes strong overnight, not even by eating a devil fruit. It takes diligence."
"That's right," Luffy said, grinning. "I used to be really weak." He made a fist and gripped his right bicep. "But I got stronger."
"Amazing," Chopper said in awe.
"Yes!" cried Usopp, jumping to feet and puffing out his chest, his hands fisted on his hips in a ridiculous pose. "Under the brilliant teaching of Captain Usopp-sama, the monster three's power has increased tenfold!"
"Really?! Amazing, Usopp!" Chopper cried in delight.
Sanji sighed again. "Alright, alright, all of you out, I need to clean the kitchen. Except for you, Nami-san, Robin-chan! You can stay as long as you like. I'll make you a delicious feast and all the drinks your sweet hearts desire!"
"That's alright, Sanji-kun," Nami said. "We should be heading to bed."
"Hai, Nami-swaaaan!"
"Sanji, I'm hungry."
"Get out!"
The other members of the crew had long filed out to bed (Luffy still moaning for more food), but Sanji remained in the kitchen even after he had finished washing the dishes, sipping a glass of wine. His story time with the crew had given him too many thoughts running through his head to go to sleep, so he decided to stay up a while, which is how he found himself at the dining table with the gun on the table in front of him and his hand resting lightly on it.
He was a bit surprised when the door to the galley opened, and when he looked over, he saw Zoro enter with a bottle of sake in hand, obviously having just been relieved of watch duty.
Zoro stopped, surprised to see him as well. The green-haired swordsman's eyes darted from his face to the gun on the table. He raised a green eyebrow.
"Never thought you'd be one to take the coward's way out."
Sanji scowled. "Shut up, you shitty swordsman. Don't go opening your mouth if shit's the only thing going to come out."
"Che," Zoro scoffed and sat down opposite Sanji, thunking the bottle of alcohol on the table after taking a large swig. "So what are you doing up? Don't you need your beauty sleep?"
"All that sleep never seems to do anything for you," Sanji shot back. Then he relaxed and gestured at the pistol. "Just reminiscing."
"Oh?"
Sanji took a gulp of wine. "Yeah. Zeff gave this to me when I was a kid."
Zoro stared at the pistol for two heartbeats before pulling his white katana free from the others and setting it on the table. Sanji looked at it, then at Zoro, and raised his eyebrow. Zoro chugged back more sake and then said, "My sensei gave this sword to me. It belonged to my friend that died."
"What was her name?" Sanji asked.
"Kuina."
And so it went on like this for several hours. The two rivals exchanged stories of their childhoods, sometimes lapsing into silence as they turned inward on their own thoughts. Sanji was the one to get more alcohol when his wine and Zoro's sake both ran out. It was the longest they had ever talked without ending up in an impromptu sparring match, and though neither one would admit it, especially not to each other, they both enjoyed to time spent together, because there was no pressure, nothing expected, just simple good conversation.
And when the sun rose a while later, and the rest of the crew got up ready to start the day, Sanji and Zoro had gone back to normal, and neither man ever spoke of that night again.
The pistol was returned to the box and settled back into the corner cabinet of the kitchen where it would be forgotten until Sanji would dig out a fresh pack of cigarettes. When that time came, he would look at the gun, smile, and remember everything he had left behind.
And everything he still had in front of him.
And that's a wrap!
Thank you everyone who read this, as it is my first One Piece fic. If you enjoyed it, please Favorite and Review :)