To Danni: Before you reviewed, I was thinking 'Oh no. This story is so bad, the readers think it's a waste of time to even leave me a review to tell me how bad it is.' So I'm glad at least you've enjoyed it. Thanks so much for leaving me a review!

Hmmm…perhaps Carmen is coming across as too much of a Mary Sue for many readers although I honestly intended the focus to be equal parts on both her and Sanji. (sigh) In any case, yes, I'll try to complete this disaster of a story anyway. I can't say if Sanji is my favourite character because the OP characters are all so magnetic, I can't decide who I like best. But I do like to write about him.

On with the story…

Chapter Two

It was many years before I thought of Sanji again. In fact, I had all but forgotten about him.

Fate did not smile kindly upon us the year following our visit to the sea restaurant. Teacher came down with a terrible illness. She died before the year was out.

The success of a restaurant is only as great as its best cook. With Teacher gone, the others wanted to disband. To seek greener pastures, they said sadly but matter-of-factly, to bigger and better kitchens, where the boss is still around for his or her reputation to do the restaurant any good.

'I can cook, Teacher has taught me. I'll…I'll get better, I'll become the best! Please don't…' My pleas had faded into desperate sobs.

Old Marie had knelt down and wiped the tears from my cheeks gently. 'Carmen, I know this is hard for you, but this is life, and we have to make a living.' She had smiled in the kindly but slightly consoling way which adults always do when they're explaining something they think children wouldn't understand. 'Don't worry. I know Boss left the restaurant to you in her will, but we can always sell it.' She sighed, squeezing my hand comfortingly. 'You can come with me if you want, I'll take care of you.'

I pulled away, suddenly angry. This restaurant was Teacher's. She had left it in my care and care for it I would. Although I did not know what was to be done, I would rather be dead than see it sold.

Marie must have read the answer in my glare for she nodded, standing up to leave. But the small smile she wore told me she thought I was throwing a girlish tantrum, and would soon 'come to my senses', a phrase they were so fond of saying.

Since then, many others had shown me that small smile. The lawyers who came to advise me on the property rights, the agents eager to buy the land from a child, even the owners of the other restaurants along the coast-coming around with well-intentioned advice masking their interest to see if I would sell the place to them.

I had hated that small smile but as the years went by, I gloated at how wrong everyone had been. Fate was cruel but it made me grow up fast. I worked hard to keep the restaurant running. I studied under various masters, picking up skills and knowledge as quickly as I could. My cooking improved tremendously and in a short time, I had built quite a reputation for myself.

Business prospered.

I took disciples of my own.

I started challenging other cooks to competitions and won every single time. I was on my way to becoming the best cook in the world and life had never been better.

The last cook I had just defeated was cowering on the ground, sobbing over his failure. Such a disgrace! It was an easier win than I thought and this man was supposed to be the best cook in this town. I eyed him disdainfully, feeling a little annoyed. The cooks I contested with these days presented no challenge at all. I should exalt in the greatness of my culinary skills and my getting closer to being the best chef in the world but frankly, there was no longer any joy in these wins.

In fact, I felt rather lost and confused at times. The title of the undefeated champion, wasn't that what I've always wanted? Wasn't that my childhood dream? Then why did all feel so tedious? It seemed as though in these endless cycles of looking for a challenger and uninspiring challenges I am searching for something. Something that was dear to me but I had lost. Something that I was sure had once been vivid but that was now only a dim shadow in my mind. It lingered always at the edges of my mind, sometimes touching me briefly at the height of a competition, but flitting away as soon as I tried to reach out to grasp it.

It was terribly frustrating.

Suddenly, a photograph on a stray leaf of newspaper caught my eye. I snatched it up and studied it closely. Something clicked in recognition, my mind closed around forgotten memories of two children and their chanced meeting on the sun-drenched aft deck of a ship.

Even after ten years, he still looked familiar. He was older now, as was I; ten years was a long time. Gone was the wide-eyed, cherubic look. Instead, his face was angular with chiseled cheekbones, clean shaven except for a hint of stubble on his chin which gave him a rough edge. Yet, there was still a distinctly boyish charm in his features and his blond hair still fell over his face in the way that made my hand itched to shove it aside for him as it had years ago. Sanji was looking directly at the camera but he wasn't smiling, instead, there was a disgruntled and sullen look in his eyes. Dressed sharply in a neat black suit, he looked pale, thin and unhappy.

Had he suffered all these years staying with that violent old man? For a moment, my heart twisted. Perhaps I should have been more insistent that we take him with us that day. Although my life had been hard without Teacher, I could not imagine it to be worse than working for an abusive master.

But my pity quickly turned to chagrin and then absolute, blinding fury as I read the caption below the photograph.

'…assistant-head-chef of the Baratie, some say the best cook in all of the East Blue and perhaps the world…'

That slimy conniving jerk! How dare he!

Just because he has grown up and realized his dream was stupid and childish, he now wants mine.

How dare he!

My anger must have shown on my face for the cook I had just defeated sniggered from where he lay on the ground. "Yeah, you may have beaten me lady, but he's still the best chef."

I seethed, crushing the newspaper between my hands and threw it at the idiot's laughing face. Turning around with a flourish, my skirts swishing angrily around my ankles, I called to my disciples. "Let's go."

It was time to pay the Baratie a little visit.