Sanji opened the door to the apartment above Zeff's restaurant The Baratie and entered, shucking off his coat and putting the packet of cigarettes in his hand into the pocket before hanging it up. He'd left Tony with his adoptive father whilst he went for a quick smoke and was dreading the consequences of his actions because this was the first time he'd ever left Tony alone with the old geezer. It wasn't that Sanji didn't trust his old man but Zeff was a little… strange in his upbringing of kids- Sanji still remembered the swift kicks to the head he got whenever he did something wrong.

He was sure Zeff wouldn't do something like that to Zoro's son but… the shitty old geezer was strange. Sanji coughed to clear his lungs out and kicked his shoes off by the doormat, "Oi, old man, what are you doing in there?"

He walked into the living room before Zeff could answer to find the most bizarre sight he'd ever seen. Zeff was… The shitty old geezer was…

Zeff was finger painting with Tony.

Sanji wanted to pinch himself hard because surely this must be a dream. Zeff. The grouchiest old man Sanji had ever known. Right in front of him. Finger painting. He blinked slowly as though he couldn't process just what he was seeing.

"And all the fish of the world gather there, all together. It's a chef's dream come true!" Zeff said, and Sanji watched as the old man drew out fish in different paints along the paper and he smiled.

The old man was telling Tony about the All Blue.

And there was something haunting but nostalgic about the way Tony was sat there, looking up at Zeff with huge eyes full of awe and wonder, drinking in every word this man said like it was water. Sanji saw himself there, remembered when it was his turn for Zeff to tell him about the All Blue, and recalled how it was him sat there in amazement as he was told a tale so impossible it couldn't be true but oh god how much had he wanted it to be real?

Sanji's smile gave way a little. He wasn't a child anymore and the All Blue wasn't real. It was a child's fantasy and nothing more no matter how incredible and wonderful it appeared to be. He ducked back out of the living room and into the hall. Dreams just didn't come true, no matter how much you believed in them.

His hands twitched and he bit his lip, itching for another smoke and he gave in, slipping his shoes and coat back on and letting himself back out, remembering all that time he'd spent… No. All that time he'd wasted on something that didn't come true. His dream was as dead as the one of All Blue.

He'd already shoved a cigarette to his lips and was lighting it before he'd even stepped out of the door.