A/N: This ended up way fluffier than I'd intended but ¯\_(ツ)_/¯
Anyways, this arc has been killing me so here's a story about Sanji and his real family
It all started with a loud crash. Patty and Carne froze mid-argument, fists still raised, mouths still open. The Lil' Eggplant, likewise, paused, a thin trail of water pattering the plate in his hands. Muffled shouts, then a heavy thud followed. In unison, the three moved to the door, nearly identical scowls taking over their features. Zeff let them go this time, simply picking up the abandoned plate and rinsing the rest of the suds off. He figured it was just another pirate brat who'd shown up thinking he could get a free meal. Ha, they got about four of those a day, and the jackasses still hadn't learned that wasn't possible.
Zeff smirked. Messing with a chef of the sea was tantamount to suicide, everyone who dared set sail should know this.
He'd just finished scrubbing a bowl when the sound of glass shattering split the air, and everything went deathly silent. No yelling, no crashing, nothing.
Frowning, Zeff dried his hands on the nearest rag before making his way into the Galley. As the door passed his shoulder, he noticed a crowd had formed around the outskirts, hands cupped over their mouths, eyes wide. Whispers passed amongst their ranks, followed by muffled gasps as Patty shoved his way through, fists clenched tight enough to turn his knuckles gray.
Zeff edged closer, tension working its way into his shoulders. What the hell was going on?
Another shove and Patty had made it to the center, where a scrawny man was glowering at him, face two shades too pale. Judging by the uniform he was a Marine Lieutenant, dark hair slicked back over his scalp.
"W-What, you gotta problem!? Huh!?"
"You bet your ass I do!" Patty snarled, taking the Marine by his shirt's collar and drawing his other fist behind his head.
Before anything could be said, before anyone could argue or explain themselves, his fist was sent rocketing into the Marine's nose with a sickening crack.
The Marine's body rolled across the floor until he collided into a table, taking it with him to the nearest wall.
Zeff was anything but happy at this. He might've torn into that bastard for breaking things in his restaurant right then and there if he hadn't noticed something. Off to the right, several of his chef's were crouched on the floor, Carne in the center. He was stooped down as though holding a heavy bag of flour, but judging from the unhappy look on his face, it couldn't have been that.
"D-Doctor!" He said, forehead beaded with sweat as his gaze jerked from side to side. "We need a Doctor!"
Doctor? They had no Doctor aboard, what the hell—
Zeff spotted a pair of tiny feet between the gap of shoulders. A prickly sensation already setting in his leg, he surged forward, shoving a few chefs out of the way. They were too shocked to protest, mouths hanging open, eyes round as plates. Not a good sign.
He'd already pieced together the cause of this, and yet, when his gaze fell on the tiny bundle in Carne's arms, his mind went blank.
A brat had been injured. Not just any brat. His brat. His brat was lying unnaturally still. His brat had a trail of blood dripping down the side of his head, staining Carne's pants in blotches of red.
"E-Eek!"
At the sound of a startled shriek, Zeff turned towards the exit, where a group of chefs were blocking the Marine in. The one in the middle smacked a dough roller threateningly in an open palm, while the others brandished a mixture of steak knives and large forks. All the while, Patty approached from behind, cracking his knuckles.
"W-Who do you lowlives think you are, huh!?" He crowed, fists clenched in front of him. "I am a Lieutenant of high prestige, you unruly savages should be grateful to wait on me!"
Without another thought, Zeff marched over, signaling for Patty to stand down. "Enough. I won't have any of this nonsense in my restaurant."
"B-But Head Chef—!"
Not allowing him to finish, he smashed his peg leg into the Marine's stomach, sending him flying through the doors with barely enough time for the others to dodge out of the way.
"Don't you ever set foot in here again, you lowlife scum. You aren't even worthy of the dirt off our boots."
A series of cheers met his rebuke, his cooks yelling their agreement along with a string of insults for the man. It died down rather fast, however, at Carne's next shout.
"Shit! That's great and all, but we could really use a Doctor over here!"
Patty's jaw clamped shut, lips spreading into a tight line as his gaze dropped to the floor. Zeff trailed closer, pausing only when a young woman stepped out from the crowd, a hand gripping her collar.
"U-Um, I'm a nurse... I can have a look at him.."
Carne nodded vigorously, tears pricking at his eyes. "Thank you, lady!"
Meanwhile, Zeff raised a brow at Patty. "Well? What the hell happened?"
Patty's chin snapped up at this, teeth bared in a snarl. "It was that cocky Marine bastard! Damn jerk threw a fit when he was told he had to pay like all the other customers!"
For the first time, Zeff spotted an assortment of bruises on some of the chef's, the most gruesome being a black eye.
"Wasn't that big a' deal," He rambled on. "We were just gonna rough 'em up and kick him out, but then he had the audacity to chuck a bowl into the crowd, where..." His spirit dwindled at the end, shoulders hunching in defeat. "Please forgive us Head Chef, we didn't see it coming, honest!"
The other cook's nodded along, though somberly.
Zeff drew in a deep breath, exhaling the words: "Well, what are ya bastards waitin' for? We have a restaurant to run." He waved a hand at Carne, gesturing to the backroom. "Take the Lil' Eggplant upstairs."
"Yes, Head Chef!" They shouted in unison.
Within moments, the customers had been seated, waiter's moving between tables, chef's filing into the Kitchen.
Zeff's gaze lingered on the shards of a broken bowl, a few of the pieces smeared with blood along the edges. He shook the grimace off before it could form. No use dwelling on it. Besides, he'd seen worse, much worse.
He remained downstairs, helping get things back in motion. No one's heart was in it, though. Even the regulars cast numerous concerned looks in the direction of the staircase.
You'd think a damn dog had been kicked, He grumbled inwardly, but there wasn't any venom in it.
Zeff didn't allow himself to drift upstairs until Carne came to fetch him, offering to trade posts.
The brat had been taken to his bedroom, where he lay in the center of his mattress, sheets carefully draped over him, bandages wrapped around his head, with small tufts of blond hair sticking out between.
The lady knelt beside him, wringing a wet rag into a bucket. Zeff noted with a lack of fervor, a murky red was mixed in with the water.
"Oh dear." She was muttering. "So young too.."
"..Is there a problem?"
With a yelp, she whirled around, flinging several droplets of water across the room in the process.
"Ah! Oh no! I'm so sorry!"
Sighing, he shifted his weight onto his good leg. "S'fine. How's the Lil' Eggplant doing?"
At that, she sobered, casting a frown at the brat's gently heaving chest.
"There's no way to be certain right now." A pause, then she squeaked and covered her mouth. "I-I mean, with head trauma you never know what you're going to get! We can't be certain whether he's sustained any forms of amnesia or brain damage until after he wakes up!"
Zeff scowled at this, "Brain damage?"
"L-Like temporary blindness or difficulty with speech.. However the blow was to his frontal lobe, so memory impairment is more plausible. I stitched him up the best I could, but you should really see a doctor."
Zeff studied the brat, the laxness to his features, the slight wince whenever his head shifted in his sleep. Memory impairment? Maybe that wouldn't be too bad. At least, he wouldn't be so damn mouthy anymore. Then again, the idea of the brat sitting quietly, not stirring up a fuss or bickering with Patty or Carne didn't sit right with him.
"Feel free to return to your table now." He said, running a hand through his beard. "Your meal's on us."
"Ah, n-no, it's all right!" She pushed herself upright, palms raised in front of her. "I could never turn my back on an injured person, especially not a child! I'm just glad I could be of use!"
"Please." He said, more of an order than a question.
"...All right.. thank you, sir!" With a polite bow, she backed out of the room, closing the door behind her.
Zeff shifted his gaze to his brat. Truly, he was an unlucky one. First starvation and now this.
The sound of stomping drew Zeff's attention to the door once more, and he only had a moment to prepare himself before Patty came barging in, a group of chef's at his heels.
"HOW'S SANJI!?"
He didn't know. "Don't you bastards have work you should be doing?"
A couple grunts, then Carne pushed his way inside the room, fingers wrung in front of him. "W-Well, ya see Head Chef, it just didn't feel right to keep working after everything..." Despite the sunglasses, Zeff knew Carne's eyes had darted to the Lil' Eggplant. "..'Sides, We left a few to wrap up for the evening."
For a bunch of criminals and former pirates, they were being rather soft right now. Or, perhaps it was just the brat they had a soft spot for. If that were the case, then... Zeff sighed, "Do as you like."
Exchanging shiteating grins, Patty and Carne closed the gap, the others following a bit slower, some out of nervousness, the rest because there simply wasn't enough space.
"Well, Head Chef, how is he?" Patty asked again, practically chewing off his nails at this point.
"Fine," Zeff grunted. "The brat isn't weak enough to be taken out by a damn bowl."
"That's right!" Patty cheered, an instant change in demeanor.
"Our Sanji isn't that weak!"
"Yeah!"
"He'll be up and at 'em in no time!"
A slurred grumble from the Lil' Eggplant cut through the chorus of cheers. They watched in silence as he swiped a hand in their general direction, as though trying to swat a fly. Zeff cracked a grin at this, while Patty and Carne tried to look offended.
"Well, I don't need another hint!" Patty said, jerking his head away and crossing his arms.
Carne mimicked him, "Yeah, tell us how you really feel, brat!"
Laughter filled the air, chasing away the gloom that had gathered. It reminded Zeff of the banquets his crew used to have, of the nights they'd spent drinking beneath the stars with nothing but the clothes on their backs and the wind in their sails. The thought made the tension in his shoulders ease a bit, but at the same time, it left a sour taste on his tongue. Reminded him what a failure of a captain he'd been, and what a failure of a parent he was proving to be.
If it were someone different, the kind of person he'd seen walk passed many times with their brat's hand in theirs, this wouldn't have happened.
He wasn't cut out to be a parental figure to anyone. They'd spent a year together thus far, and this was the third time he'd almost lost his brat forever.
As the night dragged on, the crowd thinned considerably. Chefs trickled downstairs to the barracks, while the ones that stayed passed out where they sat, empty bottles of rum and gin scattered across the floor.
Zeff had retreated to the balcony for some fresh air, draping his forearms over the railing as he stared out at the blackened sea.
"Ya wan' a drink Head Chef?"
At Patty's slurred question, he craned his neck to peer over his shoulder. The cook staggered through the doorway, a half empty bottle held in front of him.
With a sigh, Zeff took it, setting it beside his peg leg. "You've had enough."
"Whaaaat ya jus' say?" Patty drawled, nearly falling over the railing in an attempt to lean against it. A heartbeat passed, two, three, then he rested his chin in an open palm. "..Ya think Sanji's gonna be alright? Ya said those things, but ya didn' sound so sure of it."
Rather than answer, Zeff scanned the horizon, trying to figure out where the ocean ended and the inky sky began. Patty didn't seem to mind, as he rambled on and on about things Zeff could hardly understand.
"—he yers? Ya've never said."
At that, Zeff finally shifted his stare to Patty. Was pondering over a response when a whimper from the bedroom caught their attention. Not missing a beat, Zeff moved to the bed, where the Lil' Eggplant had cracked a glassy eye open, clammy fingers reaching for the bandages. Zeff caught his tiny hand in his own before he could succeed, moving it to lay on his chest.
"You'll make it worse, brat."
The Lil' Eggplant tried to turn his head, then froze with a wince, like doing so had hurt him. "Geezer?"
"Who else do you suppose it'd be?"
Well, that settled that, his brat's memory was just fine. Patty sighed beside him, a mixture of relief and exhaustion.
His brat shifted in another failed attempt to locate him. "What happened?"
Guess he'd spoken a bit too soon.
"A Lil' Eggplant like you shouldn't stress over the details. Get some rest, I need my sous chef up and running soon as possible."
With the faintest of smiles tracing his lips, his brat's eye fluttered shut. "Mhm. I—fine—morrow—eezer."
As his breathing evened out, Zeff placed a calloused palm on the Lil' Eggplant's dampened forehead. Judging by the heat radiating from his skin like a mini furnace, the Eggplant had a fever. Even though he wanted to avoid a Doctor if possible, he may not have a choice. A Doctor's fee would take several months worths of pay, not to mention they were still in debt, but the brat's health was more important. If the fever hadn't lessened by morning, he'd take him to a hospital in Loguetown.
At the sound of Patty closing the balcony door, Zeff retracted his hand, sweeping the loose strands of hair from his visible eye in the process.
"I am this brat's parent."
Not an explanation. Not a question. Neither were needed. They may not be related to each other, but until now, Zeff had been the one caring for him, not some holier-than-thou blood relative, and that was that.
Patty grinned a little too widely, though didn't comment. Instead, he strolled over to Carne, who'd fallen asleep at the foot of the bed, shaking him without a hint of gentleness. Carne snapped awake in a whirlwind of slurred curses, while Zeff sighed, a tug at the corner of his mouth.
"Shifts!" Patty announced once they'd both settled down.
Carne pinched the bridge of his nose, "Wha—?"
"For Sanji!" He supplied, like that explained everything.
That didn't make a lick of sense, but lucky for Patty, Zeff was already fluent in drunk speak. "I'll have the first shift. Until then, sober up you lot of bastards."
"Yes, Head Chef!"
As he watched the two trudge out of the room in a flurry of elbows and kicks, he settled on the side of the mattress.
"Parent."
Blinking, he swiveled his gaze to the Lil' Eggplant, who had finally located him, eye wide in a mixture of weariness and... hope?
"You're my... Parent?"
A scathing retort lingered on his tongue, but at the confusion tangled in his brat's expression, as though the prospect of anyone wanting him was unthinkable, he couldn't force the words out. "..That's right."
A toothy grin broke across his pale cheeks, followed by a breathy laugh. Zeff opened his mouth to order the Lil' Eggplant to sleep, but the brat was way ahead of him, head falling limp on his pillow.
With a sigh, Zeff leaned against the wall. He couldn't help but wonder if losing his memories would've been better for the brat. At least, he wouldn't be tormented by their near starvation, nor that damn imaginary debt he'd convinced himself he owes Zeff. At the rate they were going, the stubborn fool may refuse to leave altogether, staying in this Restaurant until one of them met their end.
He didn't like that.
Even if the brat ended up hating him, he'd damn well make sure he followed his dream. After all, he could say he didn't care anymore, could say he wanted to be a chef above all, but the brat's smile was always the widest when he spoke of the All Blue. Zeff wouldn't let him throw that away, no, he wouldn't fail another one. As a parent, it was his job to do what was best for his brat, and looking at the seventy pounds of pure stubbornness at his side, he knew he had his work cut out for him.