The transfer the next day had been easy. Katakuri hadn't noted the cake at all; Sanji had been making food in the mornings and taking it with him for several days already as a way to avoid eating the sweets the chefs served, so it wasn't like he was doing anything out of the ordinary. It was simple enough to hide the cake inside the big basket he usually brought, though it took a little rearranging to make his normal lunch fit around it.
When they'd paused for lunch in a giant hollowed-out peanut shell and Katakuri had disappeared to eat his own meal, Sanji had just left the cake sitting by the door. When Katakuri had reappeared and they'd set off again, it was gone, so he assumed the brat had gotten to it.
All in all, Sanji was almost certain that the whole thing was just another test. Sure, the Charlotte kids didn't seem to have anybody to tell them 'no' when they wanted something, so it made a kind of sense that the girl would chase down a dangerous prisoner just to demand a cake. But the ease with which everything went off was pretty damn suspicious on its own; Sanji expected far more difficulty out of pulling something off right under a Yonko Commander's nose.
But Sanji couldn't think of what it could be testing him on. His willingness to disobey? Katakuri had never given him a direct order not to do what he did, and since the kid was a Charlotte, he was technically obeying her orders. Maybe they wanted to see if he'd poison the food? But he'd already served Smoothie and Perospero, and it would be crazy to leave the big names alone only to try to take out a random child later on.
No, a test wouldn't make sense. But could there really be no other guards around him when they went out? Was Katakuri truly that lax of a jailer?
Sometimes Sanji felt that for all the time he spent pondering his situation, he still didn't understand the first thing about it.
Katakuri had ended their tour early, informing Sanji that the rest of Nuts Island was still being 're-baked' after Big Mom's rampage. An hour's ship ride back to Flour Island, a short walk down the same streets he'd been paraded through when he'd first woken up, and they were at Katakuri's house.
As he had every time they'd returned from a tour, Katakuri went ahead of him to inform the team guarding the house that they were back. Sanji could at least know that he was under heavy guard while here, if not anywhere else.
When he walked inside, Katakuri holding the massive door open for him to pass, he smelled it immediately.
Strawberries. Cream. Sponge cake.
Sanji recognized the scents from the strawberry fraisier he'd been so impressed by the other day, and sure enough, there it was. He could see it sitting on the main room table, fresh and bright and beautiful, although about three times larger than the one he'd seen at the market. He felt the strong urge to run and inspect it up close, but the table was far too high for him to reach.
Katakuri forgotten behind him, Sanji bolted to his room, grabbing his dresser and dragging it out to the main room so he could climb up a chair and jump to the table.
Now right in front of him, he could see that this cake was just as gorgeous as the one at the market had been, and it was obvious that it was made by the same baker. He could even see the same little decorative swirls cut into the strawberry halves, tiny spirals and hearts that must have been painstakingly carved by hand. It was a brilliant aesthetic touch that doubled as an effective technique, allowing air to reach the insides of the strawberries and keep them the same consistency and temperature throughout even if the cake was refrigerated.
Sanji sensed Katakuri approaching, even though he was too busy admiring the fraisier to acknowledge him. It had been placed on the table in the same way Katakuri's dinner usually was, down to the same serving platter and position in front of the chair he favored, but Sanji wasn't stupid enough to think of it as a coincidence.
"I didn't realize you'd want to be on eye-level with it. I could have picked you up."
Sanji narrowed his eyes, looking up to face Katakuri and trying to detect any sign of humor in the man's expression. When it became apparent that Katakuri was serious in his offer, Sanji decided to ignore him. The very idea of Katakuri bodily picking him up and putting him on the table, like some sort of toy doll, was ridiculous; it didn't deserve a response.
Instead, Sanji went straight for the real issue at hand. "Why did you do this? And don't play dumb with me," he added, remembering how Katakuri had tested him with the Germa. "You're looking for something here. What do you want?"
Katakuri regarded him with his head tilted, considering his words. If he did decide to act like he hadn't done it on purpose, Sanji was determined to call him out on it, but the man seemed to accept his demands.
"You obviously saw something special in this. What made it so? Has it been replicated to the same standard?"
Sanji knew not everybody could see what he saw, but the fraisier was so clearly above the level of everything else at the market, it was hard to believe that Katakuri could be so oblivious. "Yeah, it's just as good as the other one. And just look at it…can't you smell that? I saw plenty of fraisiers that day, and hers beat them by miles."
Katakuri's brows came together, eyes narrowing as he shifted his focus from Sanji to the cake, then back to Sanji. "It's well-made, but Mama does not allow incompetents in Totland. What makes it better than the others?"
Sanji could see how this was a test, of sorts; lesser chefs might be able to recognize its superiority, but they wouldn't be able to pinpoint the causes.
Well, it was a damn good thing that Sanji wasn't a lesser chef.
"The egg whites and yolks were whisked separately, and she hand-creamed them instead of using a mixer. The strawberries were heated beforehand with water to bring out the flavor and brightness, and she removed the seeds before she made the puree. She let the gelatin soften with the milk before melting it, and she pressed the sponge layer halfway through baking to keep it firm."
He could've added in a dozen other things she'd done exactly right to create the masterpiece in front of him, but if Katakuri couldn't tell for himself what the difference was, then he'd be wasting his time. Besides, he'd already said enough to make his point. "What I'm saying is, she's clearly put in the extra time and effort at every single step of the process. Sure, the others were good, but this thing could probably kill a man. It's perfect."
Katakuri was silent for a moment, regarding the cake with a distinct spark of interest in his eyes. Sanji could feel the familiar itch in his gut that told him the man was hungry, but Katakuri made no move to reach for it.
After a little while, Katakuri spoke. "The chef who made this is quite young. Citizens do not usually choose to participate in the yearly competitions until they've reached a certain age. Perhaps she can be convinced to step up sooner."
Sanji supposed that made sense. Considering how much importance the villages had placed on ranking their best chefs, the idea that somebody like this could be beneath their notice was ridiculous: It could only happen if they'd never even seen her work. "It'd be best to get to her as soon as possible, yeah. If she's only been on that one island, she's been limiting her potential. Somebody with this appreciation for detail could be working on stuff much harder than a few fraisiers."
"You'd recommend allowing her to work on different islands?"
If Katakuri actually cared to hear his opinion, then Sanji was plenty happy to give it. "Definitely. If she's really that young, then she hasn't had a chance to specialize. And if she's managed to create something like this without specializing, then her options are practically limitless. Hell, she's probably dying to try something different. I know I'd be."
Katakuri tilted his head to one side, seeming to consider his words, then nodded. "Interesting. I'll have to look into it. My sister will likely be loath to give her up, but there's a chef here she's been eyeing for a while. It shouldn't be too difficult to arrange a trade."
Sanji blinked, eyes narrowing. The way Katakuri had phrased the words sounded funny, almost as if the Charlotte siblings were all engaged in some kind of underground chef-trading black market. "Wait. You're trying to get her over to your island…why, exactly?"
If Katakuri detected his accusatory tone, which Sanji was almost certain he did, then he chose to ignore it. "It'll be a good chance for her to expand her skills. Crepe Town will be due for a re-baking soon, and if she's willing to move, it'll be useful to have a baker here already proficient in fruit fillings. And my own personal team could always use another member, as well."
The last line was added almost as if it was an afterthought, but Sanji wasn't fooled. He pulled out a cigarette and reached into his back pocket for his lighter, taking the moment to grin up at Katakuri. "I see you, you sly devil. You're just trying to catch a good chef for yourself before anybody else does."
"Perhaps I am. Is that wrong?" Katakuri's expression didn't change any, at least from what Sanji could see of it, but the light tone of his voice spoke volumes.
The guy was joking with him.
Sanji lit up and laid back, crossing his arms behind his head and kicking his legs up as he inwardly delighted in this new change of pace. Katakuri hadn't really gone far, just thrown a tiny bit back at Sanji compared to the massive amounts of sass Sanji had tossed at him earlier, but just knowing the man was capable of humor changed everything.
Sanji took a long drag, exhaling slow as if he were a grizzled veteran recalling old tales of battle. "I can see it now…all of these poor innocent civilians, caught up in your wars. Families torn apart because of a quality bread pudding, anarchy in the streets over tips for moist lemon bars, brother fighting sister for Grandma's gooey butter cake recipe. And above it all, you, the Charlottes, looking down upon your empires like vengeful gods, stirring the flames just to find the perfect steamed pudding…Monsters, all of you."
So he had a little flare for the dramatic. Whatever. The only person that ever called him out on it was Zoro, and it was Zoro, so who cared?
Katakuri seemed to be able to appreciate it, at least. "I assure you, it's quite cutthroat. Sister Amande once offered a wing of her own mansion to a chef talented in peanut brittle, then Brother Perospero had an entirely new mansion erected to win them over for their toffee. I doubt it'll come to that now, but you must remember that it's you who's doomed her.''
Sanji threw a hand up to his forehead, feigning a gasp. "You're right. I'm clearly just as bad as you. God, she'll hate me for this. A complete stranger, and I've just ruined her life forever."
"I'm sure she'll be cursing your name when she's setting up in her own personal five-star kitchen. After all, you've vouched for her cake without even tasting it."
Katakuri was right; there was even a giant-sized knife and fork sitting right beside the strawberry fraisier, but Sanji had been so confident in what his eyes and sense of smell told him that he hadn't even bothered to try a piece of it.
However, he was perfectly willing to turn that back on Katakuri. After all, it was Katakuri who hadn't been able to see the true value of the cake at first. "But you're the one who's thinking of convincing her to join your team without even taking a bite. C'mon, try it."
Katakuri shook his head, but Sanji was determined now. He got up and crawled forward on the table, taking a hold of the knife and maneuvering it to cut a perfect slice. The edge was sharp and the genoise sponge parted easily; Sanji was actually pretty used to handling tools of this size, considering how often he had to make massive batches of things for his crew.
As he was gently teasing the piece away from the cake, Katakuri spoke up. "Let it be. I'm not interested in eating right now."
The itch in Sanji's gut told him that was a lie. The man was hungry, and damnit, he was going to get fed.
"Look, this is goddamn amazing, and I won't let a single piece of it go to waste. So eat it," Sanji flipped the serving knife to have its flat side up, deftly balancing the slice on top and standing up to shove it towards Katakuri, "or I'll damn well make you!"
Katakuri eyed him with a heavy glare, brows low. He made no move to accept or even acknowledge the slice of fraisier, choosing instead to focus his distinctly unamused stare on Sanji, then on the serving knife.
Sanji was struck with the abrupt realization that he was technically pointing a weapon at the guy…
And threatening him with it.
Him, the prisoner, pointing a knife at Katakuri, the jailer. Him, the bound and busted-up sea-cook, pointing a knife at the perfectly healthy Yonko commander. Him, the one with pretty much zero control in this situation, pointing a knife at the person who was probably responsible for determining if he got to live or not.
Reality came crashing back in, as harsh and as cold as a storm-wave at sea. This wasn't casual banter with his crew, or a random conversation with a guest on their ship. This was Charlotte Katakuri, a Sweet Commander, and an enemy.
Who the fuck was he, trying to force him to eat like he did when Chopper resisted trying new things? Katakuri was a grown man choosing not to eat something, not a little kid who just didn't want to branch out. Hell, what if the guy was allergic to strawberries? Sanji already knew that the cake had only been brought here for him; it wasn't much of a stretch that Katakuri had another meal lined up.
"I mean, only if you want to eat it." Sanji forced the words out, realizing an apology was in order but not quite willing to offer a proper one. He knew that if Katakuri just tried the damn thing, he'd love it, but his own recklessness had already taken him too far. "I can just put it in the fridge. It'll keep for a few days."
He'd been getting far too comfortable with the man over the past weeks, and for the last couple of minutes he'd felt practically friendly with him, but he knew he couldn't afford to forget why he was really here. Katakuri may be open and willing to talk with him on equal ground, but Sanji knew it was all a ruse to get him to lower his guard.
At least Katakuri didn't seem to be any more bothered by the threat than he had been by everything else Sanji had thrown at him. When he spoke again, though, his voice was completely even, without any hint of humor. "I'll eat it myself. I'm interested to see the truth of your assessment, but I prefer to eat alone."
Of course. He likes eating alone. Sanji, you fucking dumbass.
In his concern over feeding someone who was hungry, Sanji had completely forgotten that part of the man's personality. If Katakuri had been so insistent on it that he left Sanji completely unprotected during the day just to have his lunch, then of course he'd want to do the same while safe in his own house. It was just another thing that had slipped out of his head during their conversation, and just another reminder that Sanji was letting himself get dangerously lax around the man.
As he used the dresser to get down from the table and head to his kitchen, both to give Katakuri privacy and to get started on his own dinner, Sanji reminded himself that the man was nothing but an enemy to him.
