"And he's off!"

Sanji hefted the first egg and ran straight into the pan, and again, until he could feel the cracks spread on the other side and then, hopping onto the pan, balancing on strips of oven mitts, he kneed it open and let it drip out on the sizzling oil.

The background of running commentary continued on: "He runs back for two, no three, four, five, this is amazing folks, he's going for a whole six eggs at once! Watch those shells fly! Now for the spatula lift..."

The spatula was like a log, but he lifted it up like he was planting a tree and skittered back to the pan. The head of the spatula fell forward and he let it pull him up to the edge of the pan again. The eggs all mingled together like a soup with yellow zits, and he hefted the spatula under his arms and made a quick stab under the mass of eggs and flipped.

"A beautiful landing folks, never seen one like it, he's lapping the pan, trying for an even sear, and here comes the dismount, right in the middle of the plate! But he's still got dozens of eggs to go – "

"Usopp," Sanji called out as he attempted to cradle two eggs at once. "Shut the hell up."

"It's going to get real cold tonight, just so everybody knows," Nami said over breakfast.

"I shall remember to bring a blanket when I take watch, then."

"...Do skelebros even feel cold…?"

"You are the last person in the world who should ask that," Sanji groaned out as he lay face down on the table. Usopp was pressing a pinky lightly on his back and rubbing it in tiny circles as he ate. As much as Sanji refused to step down as the cook, every meal had certainly turned into a workout.

Usopp's pinky managed to squeeze into the space between his shoulder blades and carefully unwound the knot in his spine. "Y'know, I could cook. Instead of just moving stuff around for you."

Sanji raised a limp arm. "Argue later. Massage now."

Chopper looked up from his plate. "Won't you be cold, Sanji? Maybe we should make you a coat."

"Out of what, a glove?" Sanji snorted, but Franky was getting a thoughtful glint in his eye, which could somehow be seen from behind his sunglasses. Franky was the one who kept making Sanji's new wardrobe with a surprising dexterity, but there had been certain artistic differences between the two, mostly around the lack of pants. They had compromised with long skirts, which had the bonus of being significantly easier to sow. But they were often made of scraps of Sanji's old shirts, which though admittedly useless at his size, still had sentimental value and it absolutely hurt to see them in pieces. Sanji tried to save his gloves. "I could just warm up by curling up in someone's hands."

He waggled his eyebrows at Nami, but she was reading the newspaper. Usopp noticed this and pinned Sanji down with his whole hand. "Massage over. C'mon and eat already."

The temperature dropped, as Nami had predicted, and the only reason Sanji knew this was because Usopp started hogging the blankets, leaving him completely uncovered.

That wasn't the actual reason Sanji woke up; he didn't really feel that cold in the first place. The real reason was that it felt like his pajamas were strangling him, and as he ripped off his shirt, he couldn't help but notice that his pants were looking more like shorts.

The walls of the bed were leaning in now, the fabric under his hands contracting, the ceiling approaching, and Sanji kicked off his pants before they could rip and jumped out of Usopp's bed as soon as he reached the one foot mark. It was hard to walk while the floor felt like it was moving, but he tottered his way to his locker and pulled on loose-fitting clothes that got more snug with every passing second (thank god he kept them intact) and only when he grew back every single inch, he bellowed out, "I'M BACK!" and possibly woke up everybody in a twelve mile radius.

It was shit o'clock in the morning, not even light out, but Sanji ran right to the kitchen and ran his hands over all the normal-sized handles, normal-sized pots, normal-sized utensils. He could hear everybody talking, chattering meaninglessly behind, not sitting at the table but leaning against the bar, as close to the kitchen as they dared.

He was gonna make a cake. He was gonna grill meat. He was gonna make every damn thing in the book. But as the stove warmed up, as he stood over it, he suddenly felt a downward jolt.

"Sanji?" Chopper yelped as he flicked off the stove and ran out the door back into the night air.

Sanji felt himself shoot back up those few inches and he turned to the others; they piled up in the doorway, shivering in the cold.

"It's not over," he said.

It was weird, telescoping in and out as Chopper modulated the temperature in the infirmary. Like he was falling slowly, down and up and down and up again.

"And you don't feel warmer or colder?" Chopper asked. "That's weird...it's almost like your body's way of regulating its own temperature just completely changed."

Sanji was no doctor, but he could put two and two together. "So it's like when water freezes, it expands."

"No. It's nothing like that."

"Like the water in my body lowered its freezing temperature?"

"That's not how bodies work."

Though really, an explanation wouldn't change the fact that at room temperature, Sanji was three inches tall.

"I could install a fridge in your stomach," Franky said. Sanji carefully tried not to look absolutely horrified.

"If it fails and he shrinks, it wouldn't shrink with him. He would rupture from the inside."

Sanji looked horrified.

Luffy leaned into him and wrapped an arm around his shoulders. "Well, whatever! All we gotta do is just go to cold places!"

"Easier said than done, captain," and Nami sighed, though fondly.

Sanji shoved Luffy off before his body heat could suck away any of his inches. "We can still have a party, though. As long as nobody minds cold dishes."

"But," Usopp said, and he pressed his lips together for a moment. "You're still..."

Sanji smiled, genuinely. "At least now we know how it works. That's still a reason to celebrate, isn't it?"

The party was mostly salads and wraps, much to Luffy's disappointment, but it was still as lively a party as ever, especially when the snow started. As the snow piled on the deck, Sanji found himself running around and pelting the others (mostly Zoro) with snowballs, rolling around even as his dress shirt got damp and hung sadly from his frame.

Chopper was the only other one without winter gear – even Luffy had to go back in and grab a coat after a while – and the two of them became the target of a concerted effort to cover them in snow and possibly make them feel as cold as everybody else. As Sanji dug his way out of a pile, Brook said aloud, "I wonder if Sanji-san could turn into a giant if it is cold enough?"

He pulled a face. "Please don't say that."

"But that'd be so cool! You gotta turn into a giant, Sanji!"

"My clothes'll rip off!"

Usopp made a choking sort of sound and then slammed a hand across his mouth and turned around.

"Are you laughing? Again?" Sanji demanded, but Usopp shook his head, hair bobbing wildly. Sanji marched up to him, taking the time to revel in the full length of his legs, and spun Usopp around.

He really didn't look like he was holding in laughter, more like he was holding something far more embarrassing in, eyes crinkled up with heat instead of mirth, and when Sanji said, "What?" Usopp said, "I just imagined you naked I'm sorry."

Sanji flushed hard enough for the both of them, perhaps for the entire crew combined. Except for Chopper, who said, "I've seen him naked, it's not a big deal."

Sanji opened his mouth to say something but screamed instead and then threw a snowball right at Chopper's face.

"And he's off!"

Sanji bolted out of the freezer with all of his inches intact and scrambled for the prepared ingredients, a blur of knives and slicing and pans and stirring and flipping and who even knew what else, and before Usopp could even get a word in, he was done.

Usopp's face fell. "C'mon, I didn't even get to commentate anything!"

"How about, 'now we'll wait an hour for the soup to finish before adding in salt?'" Sanji held onto his pants, which were already pooling around his bare feet. He hopped up to sit on the counter while he was still able to and dug around in his pockets for his three-inch clothes. Everything shifted around him. Usopp's voice sounded like it was getting deeper and further away.

Usopp looked away as Sanji retreated into his suit putting a hand up to cover his peripheral. "Maybe I'll time you."

"Cooking shouldn't be rushed."

Somehow, Usopp managed to give Sanji a Look without actually looking at him.

"Except in very extenuating circumstances. Now pick me up."

Usopp lowered his hand, palm flat, and Sanji set his feet into the plush skin. It curled underneath him and he plopped down, using the thumb as an armrest. "Don't forget my clothes," Sanji added.

"I'm not your slave," Usopp grumbled, but he gathered up the suit anyways. "You could've run to your locker yourself instead of just sitting there."

"I like being carried."

"I'll drop you," though Usopp chuckled as he said it, bouncing Sanji a little in his hand. He cut off his own laugh and walked quietly for a moment before adding, "I wish we could do something for you."

Sanji looked down at his long strides and then pointedly nestled further into Usopp's hand. "You're doing more than enough."

"No, I mean," Usopp waved the hand holding his clothes around, "like, what if we could make the whole ship cold? Like if Nami could make it winter all the time somehow, or Franky could somehow make some sort of machine. Or..."

"I don't want to make everybody else cold just so I can be tall."

"But – "

"I'll adapt," Sanji said, patting Usopp's thumb tenderly, then a little harder in case he didn't feel it. "Besides," he added with a grin, "there's plenty of advantages to being small."

Usopp glanced quizzically at him, then slowly fell into exasperation. "Sanji."

Sanji's face fell as well. "I was talking about using up less food!"

"Mm-hm."

"No, seriously!"

"Alright."

"Oh fuck you."

"That might be impossible."

"Stop."