Chapter 4
Zeff woke to a dry throat and a sharp pain in his chest. He was in a bed, covered by a scratchy wool blanket. The gentle swaying he felt told him he was on a ship of some sort. He groaned, hand clutching where he felt the pain. What had happened? A heart attack? Was this what they felt like?
"Aah!" Someone screamed and then Zeff heard the unmistakable sound of a tray and dishes falling. Reminded him of when the little eggplant used to screw up carrying dishes in from the dining room…
At the thought of Sanji, Zeff's mind suddenly cleared from its sleepy haze. The memory flashed before him: Sanji, in chains, hurt, scared, confused, a complete mess. And the Marine who had done that to him: Sakazuki.
Anger clearing his head better than any drink, Zeff began to sit up.
"You're awake!" the voice from earlier said. Zeff snapped his head towards the speaker. A Marine stood before him with pinkish hair tied back in a green bandana and glasses resting on his forehead. Zeff's first impression of him was that this kid was strong and determined, but also nervous and likely a push-over. "You shouldn't be up yet, Red Leg-san. Please lie down."
"Where's Garp?" Zeff demanded in a harsh voice.
The kid was trying to pick up broken pieces of china, placing them on a tray, while gesturing at Zeff to lie back down at the same time. "My name is Coby. Please, I'll go get him, but you really should be-"
"Get him now!" Zeff roared.
The kid squeaked, rushed the rest of the broken dishes onto the tray, and shamelessly ran out of the room with it. There was still a huge mess of food on the floor, but Zeff could care less about that right now. He had a vice admiral to chew out.
Garp arrived in the small cabin a few minutes later, munching on a bag of rice crackers. At the sight of the old chef sitting up, the vice admiral grinned.
"Ah, finally awake, are you, Red Leg Zeff? Was starting to get worried that I hit you in the wrong spot," Garp declared with a laugh.
"Where is he?" Zeff cut straight to the point. He was in no mood for games. Garp blinked in confusion (remarkably similar to his grandson, Zeff noted) then reached into his bag for another cracker.
"Who?" Garp asked over the rustling of his bag.
"The little eggplant. My son. Where is he, Garp?" Zeff demanded. "What did that monster do with Sanji?"
The vice admiral finished his rice cracker then closed the bag and placed it in an inner pocket inside his ridiculously huge Marine coat. He took a chair near the door and when he turned back to Zeff, his expression had changed.
He looked completely serious.
"Trust me when I tell you that I know what it's like to lose someone to Sakazuki," Garp said. Zeff's hands tightened around his blanket. Garp continued, "Let me explain…"
"What's the number, Black Leg?"
He tried to remember the number, but it just wouldn't appear in his mind. His brain felt foggy and sluggish. Like he was drunk or sleepy.
"I-I can't remember," he admitted.
There was a pause. A dangerous pause.
"Well, that's just too bad, isn't it?" the imposing admiral before him said, a cigar clenched in his teeth. He turned to the side, "Kill him."
"No!" Sanji cried. There was Garp and Zeff. Garp was winding back his fist…
Sanji pulled with all his might, but it felt like all his muscles were made out of jelly. The very air felt like it was made out of molasses. The shitty geezer looked over his shoulder at him.
"Sanji, I love y-!" And then Garp's fist struck.
Sanji let out a choked sob as Zeff's body fell to the ground. Then Sakazuki filled his vision again.
"Now, Black Leg, what's the number?"
"I told you the damn number!"
"No, you didn't," the fleet admiral accused. He raised a lava-covered hand towards Sanji's face, while the other hand roughly grabbed the cook's blond hair and moved it out of the way. "What's the number, Black Leg?"
"I don't know!" Sanji cried. He tried to twist his face away from the heat, but the grip on his hair was too strong. Whimpers slipped from his throat as the lava-covered hand got closer and closer.
"Well, isn't that a shame?" Sakazuki said. And then he pressed his burning-hot thumb right into Sanji's eye…
"Cook! Cook! Wake up!"
Sanji woke with a gasp. He was lying on his side in his bunk, his hands pressed tightly against his right eye, trying desperately to protect it. His throat felt dry and sore. Zoro stood above him, a hand on the cook's shoulder. Franky appeared behind the swordsman.
"Damn!" the cyborg declared, giving a low, appreciative whistle. "He kicked right through the bunk."
Sanji could hear stirrings throughout the male quarters. Chopper's sleepy voice piped up, "Is Sanji hurt? He was screaming."
"Naw, looks like a bad dream," Zoro assured the tired reindeer. "You can go back to sleep, Chopper. That goes for everyone else, too."
Sanji propped himself up, breathing heavily as he glanced around the room. He was safe. He was on the Sunny and safe. Everyone was…
…and then he remembered Zeff.
A quiet sob escaped his throat before he could stop it. The swordsman took notice.
"Come on, Cook. Let's get you outside for a minute. You don't look so good." Zoro said, steadying Sanji's shoulder as he climbed out of the bunk.
"Need some help with him, Zoro-bro?" Franky asked, from where he was sitting, examining the hole Sanji had kicked through the wooden side of his bunk in his sleep. Zoro shook his head.
"I can handle it," the swordsman answered, guiding Sanji by the shoulder to the door. Franky gave him a thumbs up.
"Okay. I'm gonna fix this, then I'll go back to bed."
"F-Franky, I'm…" Sanji started to apologize. Franky waved him off.
"Don't even worry about it, Curly-Bro. This stuff happens." With that, the cyborg set to work on repairing the damaged bed. Zoro continued to guide Sanji out of the room.
"Let's go, Cook. You need some air."
They stepped out onto the main deck. The clear night sky was filled with stars, providing just enough light to see. Sanji could feel the dew clinging to the grass under his bare feet as a cool refreshing breeze blew across the deck. The soft sound of a violin floated through the crisp evening air as Brook, up on watch in the crow's nest, practiced a new melody. The cook walked over to the side railing and leaned against it, hand rubbing against the bandage-covered eye subconsciously.
"You good?" Zoro asked from somewhere behind him.
No, I'm not, he thought. He wanted to throw up. Part of him wanted to curl up in a ball and cry. He never wanted to sleep again to escape the nightmares but, paradoxically, he couldn't remember ever feeling more tired and drained. And humiliated. And helpless. But he would never admit any of that to Zoro.
So instead he answered, "I'm fine."
"You're shaking."
Sanji glanced down at his hands. Damn it, the swordsman was right. He wrapped his arms around his abdomen, tucking the betraying hands into his underarms.
"I'm just cold."
"Uh-huh," Zoro answered, clearly not believing it for a second. He turned away. "C'mon, Cook. Let's head into the kitchen."
Sanji's first instinct was to ask his crewmate if he was hungry. But then he remembered the last time Zoro had requested he cook something and the words died on his lips.
Sensing Sanji's hesitation, Zoro glanced over his shoulder. "It'll be warmer in there." And then he kept walking.
Back towards the bunk rooms. The opposite way of the kitchen.
Sanji sighed, slapping a palm to his forehead. Then he quickly chased after the swordsman before he got too far and grabbed his collar. "This way, you shitty directionless cabbage." With that, he dragged his crewmate to the dining room, Zoro protesting the whole way.
Once they arrived in the warm-hued kitchen, Sanji released Zoro's collar and took a seat at the dining room table. The swordsman stood by the door for a moment, grumbling as he rubbed his sore neck, then made a beeline for the pantry. Sanji rolled his eyes when Zoro predictably emerged a few seconds later with a bottle of sake and a small drinking cup.
"A little early to be drinking, isn't it?" the cook asked.
"Who said it's for me?" Zoro replied, placing the bottle on the table and sliding it over to Sanji. The blond expertly caught it before it reached the edge. He raised an eyebrow at Zoro.
The swordsman took the seat opposite Sanji and placed the cup down in front of the cook. When Sanji made no move to grab the cup or pour the sake, Zoro sighed. Then he reached over and took the bottle from Sanji's hands, poured a small amount in the cup, and then placed it in front of the cook. "Drink. It'll clear your head."
"I'm not-"
"You were screaming loud enough to wake the dead, Curly. And I don't mean Brook. Drink." Zoro demanded. "It'll probably do your throat some good too."
Taking a deep breath, Sanji picked up the cup and swallowed the bitter liquid in one shot. Zoro was wrong; it did not help his throat. At all. He gave a stuttering cough against the burning sensation before placing the cup back down.
"Lightweight," the swordsman teased. Sanji growled, then held the cup out. Zoro raised an eyebrow at that. "You sure?"
"Hit me," Sanji answered. Shrugging, Zoro refilled the cup. Sanji gulped that one down and held out the cup again. "Another."
"Maybe you should slow down."
"Maybe you should speed up. Where's your cup?"
It was pretty obvious to Sanji that Zoro's original intention had only been to get the cook a nightcap to clear his head and then both of them return to bed. But at the challenge of a drinking contest, a glint appeared in the swordsman's remaining eye. Vaguely, and with his own injury fresh in his memory, a part of Sanji's mind wondered how Zoro had lost his own eye, but he didn't voice it as the swordsman got up and retrieved another cup.
They were each on their fifth cup and just starting on the third bottle when Franky walked in.
"Oh ho! Was wondering where you two had gotten off to," the cyborg said with a laugh. "Your bunk's all fixed up, Curly Cook."
"Thanksh, Franky," Sanji slurred, saluting the shipwright with his cup. A bit of sake sloshed out.
"I think you might have had enough, Curly," Zoro stated.
"Nuh-uh! Hit me," Sanji declared, holding the cup out to Zoro. The swordsman glanced at it, then back at the cook.
"You gotta finish what's in there first, idiot."
"Oh," Sanji said, looking at the contents of the cup before swallowing it. He held the cup back out. "Sthere. Now hit me."
"I think sword-bro's right. You've had enough, Sanji," Franky said, walking over and taking a seat at the end of the table next to the two drinkers.
"Buh I can keep goin'…" Sanji protested weakly.
"Come on. Let's get you back to bed," Franky offered, standing up and walking over to the cook. He wrapped one of his massive metal hands around Sanji's arm to lift him from the chair. It reminded the cook of…
Shackles!
And before Sanji could stop himself, he lashed out at Franky with a harsh kick.
The cook was barefoot and drunk and not in the best shape, and Franky was made of metal. Still, the impact was enough to push the cyborg back a couple yards.
"No!" Sanji cried out, swaying on his feet. "Lemme go! Don't-!"
"Cook!" And there was Zoro, grabbing him by the shoulders and shaking him. "Snap out of it! You're on the Sunny! You're safe!"
"A'm safe?" Sanji asked, still slurring his words.
"Yes."
"Oh. Okay. Safe." The cook started to relax before he remembered again. Zeff. Tears formed in his eye of their own accord and before he could stop himself he was weeping.
"Whoa. What's all this?"
"He'sh…he'sh not …safe!" Sanji tried to explain as he cried, covering his face with his hands. He heard a chair being moved behind him and then someone was guiding him into it.
"Any idea what this is about?" he heard Franky ask. Zoro paused for a moment before answering.
"I think he's talking about his old man." Came the reply. Sanji felt a hand on his shoulder. Zoro's. No. He couldn't cry in front of the swordsman. He had to stop.
Forcing himself to come together, Sanji sniffled one last time, wiping his nose, then looked up to see Zoro's glaring face. The swordsman was sitting in a chair across from him, one arm resting on his knee, leaning forward, peering at Sanji.
"Stop that," Zoro said, scowling. He must have meant the crying. Sanji forced himself to take a deep breath, still trying to get his tears under control.
"Stop what?" He finally asked.
"That," the swordsman said, gesturing at the cook. "Stop trying to hide the fact that something's wrong, Cook. It's pissing me off."
"Pishing you off?!" the cook shouted, indignant.
"And it's worrying Luffy. And Nami," the swordsman continued. That cooled Sanji off a bit. It was one thing to be worrying his precious flower (Mellorine!), but sweet girl that Nami was, she worried about everyone on the crew. Now Luffy being worried was…well…worrisome. Although now that he thought about it, Nami had mentioned something about Luffy being concerned too…
"Look, Curly," Zoro said, pulling Sanji out of his thoughts. "We all have our weaknesses. Can't let enemies get at Franky's backside…"
"That would be unsuper," Franky agreed.
"…Usopp and Nami are cowards and fight from a distance, so don't let strong opponents get too close to them. Never rely on Luffy for a stealth mission. You can't fight women. I can deal with all of that," Zoro continued. "But if you suddenly can't handle fire, Cook, we need to know about it."
"Itsh none of your-!" Sanji started to stand, then began to sway on his feet until Franky guided him back down to the chair. Zoro waited until he was sitting back down.
"And it's not just the fire thing. You're falling apart at the seams. And you're trying to hide it. Acting like everything's fine. You may have some of the younger ones fooled, like Usopp and Chopper. But most of us, we can see through the cracks. The nightmares. Crying when you think no one can see you. The tremors and shaking. And if you get any thinner, you're gonna turn into Brook.
"You have issues after all you've been through. It's understandable. So deal with them, Cook. Stop trying to hide it. Talk to someone." The swordsman held up a hand as the cook started to protest. "It doesn't have to be me. Hell, we both know it's probably better if it isn't. But talk to someone. It can be Luffy or Nami or Robin or Jinbei. Hell, talk to Franky."
With that, Zoro stood up, walked over to the table and picked up the three sake bottles. Franky was helping guide Sanji out of the chair. The cook stumbled.
"I think that conversation may have to wait for another night. Think you'll make it back to the bunk room?" Franky asked. Sanji gestured at the couch.
"I can shleep there."
"Huh. If you're sure?" Franky asked.
Sanji heard the clinking of glassware as Zoro took care of the two empty sake bottles and put away the third. A moment later the green-haired swordsman was standing in front of him, a contemplative frown on his face.
"Get him on the couch, Franky. I'll stay with him." Zoro decided. "If you could get some blankets though, that would be a help."
"You got it." Franky said, flashing Zoro a thumbs up before guiding Sanji down to the couch and helping him settle onto it. Then the cyborg was gone, likely getting the blankets Zoro had requested. Sanji was thankful; his feet felt cold. The swordsman himself was already leaning back in one of the dining room chairs, his feet propped up on another, getting ready to fall asleep.
"Thanksh, Moshhead," he murmured from where he lay on the couch.
"No problem, Shit Cook," Zoro returned.
Sanji's eye felt heavy as his head swirled from the alcohol. The Sunny swayed in its gentle, familiar way. He was barely aware of it when Franky returned and covered him with his blanket, the cyborg saying a quick goodnight to Zoro before turning off the kitchen light and exiting. Maybe it was the comfort of being in his familiar kitchen, perhaps it was the dangerous but warm-hearted swordsman keeping watch over him, but for once, while the cook slept, the dreams stayed at bay.
The next morning dawned bright and clear. Nami entered the kitchen to begin her day of breakfast prep. She stopped in the doorway, surprised at the sight before her. Zoro was leaning back in one of the dining room chairs, his feet propped up on another, covered by a blanket as he snored away, oblivious to the world. Over on the couch, Sanji was peacefully asleep on his stomach, his head pillowed on his arms, a blanket draped over him.
Smiling to herself, the navigator walked into the kitchen and began the prepping for the morning meal as quietly as she could. Both of the boys must have been exhausted; neither of them stirred until Luffy finally ran in for breakfast.
Sanji took a deep breath, closing his eye. Then he let the breath out, opening his eye at the same time.
He and Franky were standing on the upper deck, next to the opening to the aquarium. The dining room and Chopper's infirmary were on the other side of the wall behind them. It was both out of the way of everyone and had a quick source of water in case they had to put out any fires.
"Okay, Franky. Do it." Sanji said with a nod. The cyborg didn't hesitate; that only ever made the cook more nervous.
"Fresh Fire!" Franky released his attack, the flames shooting over the railing towards the open ocean. Sanji stood next to the shipwright, his hands in his pockets, trying his damnest to keep the fear, shaking, and sweats away.
"Okay, that's enough!" Sanji cried out. Franky stopped the flames, then glanced down at the pocket watch the cook had let him borrow.
"Yow! A full minute! That's double your last time!" the cyborg declared happily. Sanji sighed.
"But it's still not enough," he complained. "I'm a cook. I can't be afraid of fire."
It had been over a week since the incident where Sanji had jumped off the ship and quite a few days since he and Zoro had had their impromptu drinking game. Sanji had finally decided to work on his apprehension with being around fire. They had started small; Nami would flick a lighter or a match and Sanji would watch it as long as he could. When he had reached the five minute mark with the small flame, they both decided it was time to move onto something bigger.
But Franky's Fresh Fire was turning out to be more of a challenge than Sanji had expected. He had been able to handle the small flame in less than two days. It was already day three of watching Franky's version of a flame thrower, and Sanji still felt like he was going to break down into a panic attack. Diable Jambe was going to take a long time. But he had an even more important goal in mind.
"These things take time, Curly-Cook," Franky assured him. "And you're making progress."
"I know but…" Sanji glanced at the wall behind them, almost as if he could see the cooking schedule on the other side of it. Just five more days and it would be… No, he couldn't think about that. He'd be able to handle fire before then.
Franky seemed to sense the reason for his apprehension. "Relax. Nami assures me we'll be pulling into a port and able to restock the same day as-"
"I know! I know that, but it's still…you didn't see the kitchen after his last attempt." Sanji said with a sigh, running both hands through his hair anxiously. "But mostly, I'm worried about us running out of food at all. What if there's an emergency at the port and we can't pull in? What if there are…" The word Marines choked in Sanji's throat. Franky laid a heavy hand on Sanji's back, giving him as gentle of a reassuring pat as he could.
"It'll be okay, Sanji. We're all here this time. We won't let him use up all the food," Franky said. "And I know you definitely won't." He took a glance at the pocket watch then handed it back to Sanji. "Why don't we call it quits for today?"
"I guess." Sanji replied, looking down at the watch in his palm. It had been a gift from Zeff. Fighting back tears, Sanji placed it back in his pocket. Franky tilted his head.
"Something wrong?"
"No, no. Was just thinking about something."
"I see," Franky said with a nod. "Ready to have that conversation?" Sanji shook his head.
"No. Thank you anyway, Franky," Sanji answered, walking over to the railing and leaning against it, staring out at the ocean. After a few moments, he heard Franky walk away. Sanji let out another sigh. Five days.
A gentle feminine hand tapped his shoulder. Sanji turned towards it to find the appendage disappearing in a flurry of petals.
"Robin-chan?" he asked hesitantly.
"Right here," the elegant archaeologist answered, walking around the corner from the aft part of the ship. In one hand she held a glass of water while the other was closed around something tiny. Sanji turned with his back to the railing to give her his full attention.
"Anything I can do for you, Robin-chan?" the cook asked with a grin. The archeologist smiled.
"I simply stopped by to say hello to Chopper on my way down from the library, and he asked if I could bring you your medicine since you and Franky were practicing out here," Robin replied, placing a few small pills into Sanji's palm and handing him the glass of water.
"Aww! Robin-chwan is so considerate of me!~" Sanji cooed in his sing-song voice with hearts in his eyes before turning back and taking the medicine. Robin let out a soft giggle behind her hand. Then she pointed at Sanji's back pocket.
"The watch. Is it okay if I see it?" she asked politely. Sanji paused for only a moment, before reaching back to grab it.
"Of course," he said with a shy smile as he handed it to her. "Anything for you, Robin-chan."
"Don't worry, I won't drop it to the dark bottomless depths of the unforgiving sea…" Robin assured him darkly.
"Of-of course not," Sanji replied nervously, a sweat drop appearing on his head.
Robin studied the watch for a few moments, tracing her graceful fingers over its silver patterned surface before opening it and watching it tick the seconds. Then she snapped it shut and handed it back to the cook.
"It's a beautiful piece," she said. "Your father gave it to you?"
"He…did," Sanji said with some hesitation.
"Could you tell me about him?" Robin asked. Sanji paused for a moment, but in the end he couldn't say no to a beautiful lady like Robin. And besides, she wasn't prying; she was simply asking a perfectly innocent question about a man she had never met.
"Not much to say. He was a shitty geezer with a shitty attitude, a shitty temper to match, and a strong kick to back those up. Which was quite the feat, considering he only had one leg," Sanji answered, taking out a cigarette and carefully lighting it. Robin laughed.
"He sounds like quite a character. Still, he must have had exquisite taste. That pocket watch is lovely," the archeologist pointed out. Sanji stared at the silver watch in his palm, a fond smile on his face.
"He did," the cook agreed. "He got this for my 11th birthday. 'So you stop burning all your damn food, little eggplant,' he told me. He even stayed up all night making this huge cake for me." Sanji spread out his arms, emphasizing the size of the cake, a grin on his face. "I couldn't figure out where everyone had gone that morning and then Carne and Patty brought out this huge—sorry, Carne and Patty are two idiots who work at the Baratie—brought out this huge cake for me, all covered with candles. I actually started crying and they started laughing at me. 'What's the matter? Why are you crying? Come on, aren't you supposed to be a man? Don't tell me you've never had a birthday cake before?' Things like that."
Robin started laughing at Sanji's impressions of his former coworkers. "They sound quite amusing."
"In any case," Sanji continued, still grinning, "I finally tell them the problem: there's one candle missing. The two of them start freaking out. Then Zeff comes in, because he'd been listening behind the door, and he's freaking out, too. 'I shouldn't have left this to you idiots!' he yelled at them. 'But boss, you're the one who told us to put that many.' 'You idiots take it back and do it right this time!' 'Don't get mad at us because you made a mistake, boss!' "Sanji started laughing at the memory. Robin giggled along with him.
"So, was it Zeff who made the mistake then?" she asked. Sanji nodded.
"Wasn't really his fault though. It was my first birthday at the Baratie and he didn't know how old I was." A somber expression passed the blond's face. "And Carne and Patty were right about one thing; that really was my first birthday cake. Not that I was going to tell them that."
"It sounds like it was a wonderful environment for you to grow up." Robin continued, smiling gently.
"Yeah, it really was," Sanji replied, a melancholy smile on his face. "That shitty geezer taught me pretty much all I know about cooking. And how to treat women. And how to fight."
"He must have been a truly great man then. I'm sorry I never had the opportunity to meet him."
"I should tell you about how Luffy met him someday," Sanji said, the bright humor starting to return to his face. Then he remembered. Luffy. Five days. He could feel his anxiety return.
Robin seemed to sense the change in his mood.
"I take it you're worried about Luffy cooking?"
"Of course I am! After last time—sorry, Robin-chan. You and the others weren't there. But after we escaped from Big Mom's territory, I saw the aftermath of Luffy's attempt to cook on the way over. Not only did he partially destroy the kitchen, but he used up most of the supplies. I was barely able to make us enough meals from the scraps to see us to Wano."
"You should have faith in yourself, Sanji," Robin replied with a reassuring smile. "You're a tough cook of the sea; even if Luffy messes up as badly as you fear, you'll see us through this with your knowledge, experience, and resourcefulness. After all, from what you told me, you were trained by one of the best."
Sanji felt a tear start to form in the corner of his eye, "I'm touched, Robin-chan…"
"Of course, if you fail, we'll all merely starve to death," Robin continued, a pleasant smile on her face. As she walked past the cook, ignoring the exaggerated expression of shock and horror on his face, she patted his arm. "But I trust in you, Sanji. Best of luck."
Sanji was ready. That morning, he'd been able to watch Franky's Fresh Fire for five minutes without breaking into a sweat. Tomorrow was Zoro's turn to cook; Sanji couldn't wait to kick the swordsman's ass and not only prove to the mosshead that he wasn't afraid of fire, but also that the algae brain's services would no longer be required in the kitchen. Let that shitty swordsman set all three of his blades on fire; Sanji could take it. Now he just needed to find the bastard.
Ah, there he was! Under the tree next to the slide, Chopper cuddled on one side of him, Luffy on the other. Good, he'd be able to make it clear to Luffy that he wouldn't need to cook either. A pity Brook wasn't around.
"Hey, Mosshead," he said, jostling the swordsman's boot. Normally, he'd just give the lazy bum a good kick, but he didn't want to disturb Luffy and Chopper. "I'm ready. Let's go."
Zoro snorted and then lifted his head up, staring at the cook blearily. "Ready? For what?"
"A fight of course! Now get your swords, Mosshead. I haven't got all day," Sanji explained. "I got a meal to cook after this."
"Sanji's gonna cook?!" Luffy said excitedly, suddenly sitting up and completely awake.
"You sure about this, Cook?" Zoro asked, raising an eyebrow at Sanji. "I'm not gonna go easy."
"Yeah, yeah. Just get on with it already." Sanji complained, stepping back across the deck to give Zoro some room. With a yawn, the swordsman carefully dislodged himself from Chopper, and then stood up and stretched his arms. Luffy hooted and then stretched his arms to the railing above them and flung himself up, grabbing a suddenly awake Chopper on the way.
"Aaaah! What's going on?!" the poor reindeer screamed in panic. The rubber man grinned and cuddled the little doctor close.
"Trust me, Chopper. You're safer up here. Zoro and Sanji are gonna have a fight and then Sanji's gonna make us dinner!" Luffy declared happily.
"Oh, that's nice…wait! They're going to WHAT?!" Chopper shrieked.
Sanji ignored the conversation above. He kept his eye focused on the swordsman, who had a sword in hand. One sword, Sanji noticed with annoyance.
"You really think that one sword's gonna be enough?" he prodded. Zoro frowned at him.
"Let's see how you do with this one first, Cook," the swordsman replied.
"Sure you don't want to use the purple one at least?" Sanji continued, pointing to Enma, trying to goad Zoro. The swordsman wasn't falling for it.
"Wado's plenty for now." Zoro's stare never left his. "Ready?"
Sanji got into a confident fighting stance, his hands in his pockets. He grinned. "Yeah. Ready when you are Shitty Swordsman. Let's go."
"Foxfire style!" Zoro called out, swiping his hand across the blade and igniting it in flames. Sanji's grin widened. This was going to be so easy—
And suddenly the flames were dancing closer and closer—too close!—as Zoro charged for the attack. Sanji gasped and flinched back, barely getting a foot up in time to block.
"You sure you want to keep going?" Zoro asked, cocking an eyebrow at the chef. Sanji shoved him back and nodded, a little wide-eyed, but getting back into his stance. Zoro glanced up at Luffy, who was watching the battle with his typical wide-eyed yet solemn expression. The captain met his swordsman's eye and nodded. Zoro turned back to Sanji. "Alright, Cook. Here goes!"
The swordsman charged again, his expression harsh and his gaze piercing, red-hot flames dancing from his hand. And suddenly Sanji was back in that cell, with no one but harsh guards and a cruel fleet admiral with lava powers for company. The panic was back; his chest felt constricted, it was hard to breath, and all his limps felt like jelly. Out of pure reflex, he managed another shaky block, but there was no way he could possibly fight back.
Despite his words earlier, Zoro seemed to sense Sanji's hesitation and didn't press the attack. Instead, he simply stood there with his sword against the cook's shoe, waiting for Sanji to give a signal to continue or yield.
"Stop!" Sanji finally cried out, lowering his foot, raising shaky hands to his pale face as he walked to the railing and leaned against it. He could hear the heavy footsteps of the swordsman as he walked up to the railing next to him. Somewhere above him, he thought he heard shouts of concern from Nami and Usopp, but Luffy stopped them. He expected the swordsman to say something, to gloat over his victory or Sanji's weakness, but he was silent.
"I-I don't get it. I can handle Franky's flame and it's huge! Why is this one freaking me out?! Why can't I do this?!" he shouted, his hands moving to grab anxiously at his hair. "This doesn't make any sense!"
"It's not the flame's size that's bothering you."
Somehow that pierced through Sanji's growing frustration and stopped it in its tracks. "What?"
"It's not about the size of the flame," Zoro continued. Taking a shaky breath, Sanji started lowering his hands and looked over at his crewmate. Zoro was holding up the white sword, mercifully without the flames. "Not anymore. It's how close they are to you."
"But…I was standing right next to Franky…"
"But he wasn't coming at you, Cook. The flames were directed away from you," Zoro pointed out. "This is the next hurdle you gotta overcome."
Sanji felt a surge of frustration, apprehension, and finally just plain exhaustion as the enormity of what he still needed to accomplish washed over and overwhelmed him like a wave. "I-I can't…I can't do this…"
Zoro paused, just staring at him with his single eye. A look of disappointment passed over his face for a moment, just a moment, but it was enough to make Sanji's insides clench.
"Yeah, I get it," he said, cutting off Sanji's rambling as he began to return his sword to its sheath. "You went through a lot and this is just too much for you. I get it."
"Wait. Th-that's not…"
"It's okay. Everyone has a limit and you found yours."
"It's not about-!"
"You just can't keep up with me in a battle. It's fine."
"Listen, you stupid Mosshead…!" Sanji shouted, starting to get annoyed, as Zoro turned and began walking away, his hand still on his sheathed sword.
"So much for having a higher bounty than me. I guess it really is just for show," the swordsman continued with his taunt. Before he could stop himself, Sanji was running across the deck, a kick ready to collide with that cocky swordsman's stupid grass-filled head…
…only for the kick to be casually blocked by a flaming sword, a wolfish grin on Zoro's face.
"Is that all you got, Shit Cook?" Zoro challenged, pushing Sanji back. Regaining his balance, Sanji spun and came at the swordsman again and again with a furious series of kicks, forcing himself to ignore the flames dancing across the sword. He had nothing to fear from those flames; he had the swordsman backing up, retreating. He had the control here.
Still grinning, Zoro took a few hurried steps back, pulling out his second sword. Sanji wasn't worried, at first. Then Zoro used the first sword to ignite the second. Sanji paused.
"What's wrong, Curly-brow?" Zoro asked, sensing Sanji's hesitation. "Don't tell me you're afraid of a little fire?" And then he charged, both swords swinging at the cook. Now it was Sanji retreating, having to quickly flip and side-step and do every other bit of fancy footwork he could to avoid Zoro's blades. The swordsman was being true to his original word; he was not going easy on Sanji. Not anymore.
He was about ready to yield again; he felt ready to panic every time he felt the heat come near him. It was too much. He couldn't do this.
Zoro came at him, his blades crossed in an overhead swing. By pure habit, Sanji raised his foot and blocked it right where the swords crossed. Over the flames, he could see Zoro's wolfish expression, watching him, like a predator eyeing prey. Once again, the swordsman seemed to sense his weakness, his desire to quit.
"Too much?" Zoro chuckled. "Go ahead and give up, Cook…like the coward you are."
Clenching his teeth, a fire of his own appearing in his eye, Sanji jumped and spun, the blocking foot guiding the swords past him as the other circled around for the attack. Zoro barely got his arm up in time to block, and the kick still managed to make him slide a few feet to the side.
For the first time the whole fight, Sanji wasn't shaking. A burning anger boiled in his guts. Like hell he was going to let this mosshead beat him.
Recovering himself, Zoro looked up at the cook, excitement somehow painting his vicious expression.
"Now that's more like it!" he declared. "Because that's who you are, isn't it, Cook? Everyone else, they wanna coddle you, go easy on you. But you and me and Luffy? We don't speak that language. We always gotta push and push and push until we can't stand it! And then we gotta push some more! Because that's the only way. The only way we're gonna be able to stand next to the King of the Pirates! Now show me what you got, you shitty cook!"
With that, Zoro pulled out his third sword and placed it in his mouth, careful not to let the fire from his second sword burn his face in the process. Then he used the second sword to light the third before looking back at the cook. Even through his haze of anger, Sanji could feel his pulse begin to quicken at the sight of so much fire. The swordsman commented, "It's not too late to give up, you know."
"That goes for you too, Shitty Swordsman!" Sanji shot back immediately. Zoro just stared at him for a moment.
"Ya know, I bet I know the real reason your bounty's higher than mine," the swordsman sneered around his third sword. Sanji froze. No, he was not about to…
"It's that name on the poster, isn't it? Has nothing to do with you, Cook. Has everything to do with your name. With your family," Zoro taunted. "Ain't that right, Vinsmoke?"
Sanji was vaguely aware of gasps coming from some of the others, but he wasn't focused on that right now. All he could see was red, and that fiery heat that had been coiling in his guts earlier now flared within his heart. Before he could stop himself, he was flying at the swordsman with everything he had.
"Concasse!" the cook shouted, bringing his heel down on Zoro's head. The swordsman blocked of course, and Sanji could see the fiendish grin of pure delight on the other man's face. That's when he noticed: it wasn't just Zoro's swords that were on fire.
So was his foot.
He had ignited Diable Jambe.
He had ignited Diable Jambe!
And then he fainted.
"He's starting to come around!" a worried voice chirped. Chopper. Definitely Chopper. "Sanji? Sanji, how are you feeling?"
Sanji groaned aloud, raising a hand to his forehead.
"Dizzy," he answered.
"Okay, hold on." Suddenly, a large furry arm was under his shoulders, helping him sit up. Another wave of lightheadedness passed over him. "Drink this."
A cup of water, refreshingly cool, was pressed to his lips. Sanji began drinking greedily, but every time he got more than a few sips in the cup was taken away.
"Not too fast, or you'll get sick," Chopper admonished before returning the cup to Sanji's dry mouth. The cook forced himself to drink slower to the doctor's satisfaction.
He finally cracked open his eye. He was in the infirmary. The lights were dim thankfully; Sanji could feel the beginnings of a headache forming behind his temples. Groggily, he tried to remember why he was there.
"What happened?" he asked. Chopper shook his head, then opened his mouth to answer.
"It was so cool!" Luffy jumped in instead. Sanji startled; he hadn't even realized Luffy was in the room. "You and Zoro were really going at each other. Everyone was worried, but I knew you could do it!"
"Do…what? Did I beat him?" Sanji asked. Luffy shook his head.
"Naw. But you lit your leg on fire again! I knew you could do it, Sanji!" Luffy declared proudly. Chopper sighed.
"That's what did it. That technique always uses so much of your energy. In the shape you're in, it wore you out and overstrained your body, Sanji. And you're still not completely recovered from your injuries," Chopper explained as he lowered Sanji back down to the bed.
"Where's the mosshead?" Sanji asked.
"He said he won. Then Nami bopped him really good. Oh, and then he said he needed to take a nap since he's gonna be cooking tomorrow." Luffy answered. Sanji growled.
"Oh, hell, he's not!" the cook declared, sitting up. Chopper firmly grabbed his shoulders. "Hey, Chopper. What are you doing? I need to go-"
"No," Chopper stated, shaking his head. "Sanji, you're too we…you just fainted. You need to rest."
Sanji didn't miss the doctor's near miss there; he had nearly said Sanji was too weak. To cook.
"Let me up, Chopper," he demanded, trying to push the reindeer out of the way. Damn it, why was Chopper's Heavy Point so big? The doctor sighed.
"Fine. See if you can get out of this bed on your own," Chopper challenged, backing up a step to give his patient some room. Sanji raised an eyebrow at that; it wasn't like Chopper to give in so quickly. He had a feeling Chopper knew something he wasn't letting on.
Despite his misgivings, the cook swung his legs over the side of the bed and began to push himself upright. That proved to be a mistake; a wave of dizziness and nausea passed over him before he could stop it. Chopper was ready, his hands grabbing Sanji's shoulders before he could fall over.
"Luffy, the basin!"
A large metal bowl suddenly filled Sanji's vision. He barely had a chance to grab it, and hear the telltale sign of Luffy's rubber arm snapping back, before his stomach roiled. Before he could stop himself, he was puking into the basin. Given his mostly liquid diet, there wasn't much. Chopper simply held him in place until Sanji was dry heaving.
"All done?" the young doctor asked. One last heave, then Sanji nodded his head. Chopper took the basin, passed it to Luffy behind him, and then helped Sanji wipe his mouth and get back into the bed.
"Just rest, Sanji. You're overheated and exhausted. You'll feel better tomorrow. I'll have Robin make you some soup in a bit," Chopper said.
"R-Robin-chan's cooking tonight?" Sanji felt even worse. Not only was he failing in his job as the cook, but one of the ladies had to take his place because of it.
"Don't worry, Sanji," Luffy assured the cook with a grin. "Robin's really good. Not as good as you, of course, but…"
Sanji sighed as his captain rambled on. The quality of the food wasn't what he was concerned about, but it was nice of Luffy to try to make him feel better about it, nonetheless.
Chopper turned to his desk, picked up some medicine, and then turned back to Sanji.
"You and Zoro have got to ease back into this slower, okay? You can't go all out yet, Sanji. It's pushing your body past what it can handle right now," Chopper said, helping Sanji take the medicine. It was bitter in more ways than one. "I know he pushed you, but I don't want your recovery to slow down or worse, regress."
"Fine, fine," Sanji agreed. His eyelid suddenly felt heavy. He turned an accusing glare on the doctor. Chopper stared right back at him.
"You're tired, Sanji. Just rest," Chopper said, tucking the blanket around Sanji's shoulders.
Thoughts began to swirl in Sanji's sleepy mind. He'd rest tonight, maybe have some of Robin-chan's delicious soup. But tomorrow, when he felt better, he'd get up, bright and early and make breakfast before that damn mosshead finished his morning nap…
Sanji was asleep before Luffy and Chopper left the room.
Chopper proved correct. Despite his exhaustion the evening before, Sanji woke with the dawn and well before everyone else on the ship. Getting out of bed gingerly, he sat on the edge for a moment, making sure he wasn't going to have another dizziness spell. When none occurred, he stood up, paused again and then walked into the kitchen.
The dining room and kitchen were empty except for him. Sanji grinned, entering in the code for the fridge and pulling out some eggs. Some omelets were in order.
He set the eggs on the counter, put on his apron, and then headed over to the stove as he tied the apron strings behind him. Once he got to the stove, he put his hand on the dial, picturing in his head the flame roaring to life …
He froze.
His breath came out in panicked gasps as his hand shook over the knob. He could feel his heart racing in his chest.
No, no, no! He could do this! It was just cooking! Compared to the fight yesterday, this was nothing! He'd done this thousands of times! So why couldn't he…?
"Sanji-san?" came a polite greeting from the door. Sanji jumped.
"Brook?!" he gasped, staring wide-eyed at the skeleton.
"Apologies, Sanji-san. I did not mean to disturb you. I merely came in from my watch to get a cup of tea," the skeleton explained, politely removing his hat. He walked into the kitchen, peering around Sanji's shoulder at the stove.
"Ah, I thought it was Zoro-san who was making breakfast today?" Brook inquired. Sanji grit his teeth, his frustration rising.
"I can do it," he ground out.
"My apologies, again, Sanji-san, but I watched you at the doorway for a few moments before saying anything. So I must ask: can you?"
Sanji growled and pounded his fist on the counter.
"No! I can't! I can't turn on the damn stove! And the worst part is I don't fucking know why!"
"Ah. I see," Brook said, perfectly calm in the face of Sanji's rage and frustration. "You are referring to your inability to light the stove and face its flame today when yesterday you were not only able to face the fire on Zoro's swords but ignite flames yourself?"
"Exactly!"
The skeleton was silent for a moment. His head tilted a bit before he answered, "There is a very different mindset when one is in the heat of battle versus when one is in a rational state."
Sanji forced himself to take a deep breath. "What do you mean?"
"Zoro-san pushed you into such a battle rage you were able to push away your memories and fears of fire. At least for the duration of the fight," Brook explained. "But today, with your mind in a calm cold state, it can picture the flames. And it remembers. You remember what it's like to be burned, Sanji-san. Horribly."
The memories of Sakazuki pressing his magma-covered hands to Sanji's body rose up, unbidden. He shuddered.
"Your mind and body are acting perfectly normally to a traumatizing event, Sanji-san. It is not your fault. You have nothing to be ashamed of."
"But, but…" Sanji's eye glanced over at the far wall, at the cooking schedule. Luffy…
"I will admit, Zoro-san suggested putting Luffy on the schedule as a way to motivate you," Brook confessed. "But rest assured, I too remember Luffy's last attempt at the culinary arts. Chopper, Nami, and I will not allow him to use up all the food this time."
"So, what he does use will go to waste?" Sanji pointed out.
"O-only if it's inedible," Brook admitted. Sanji sighed. "We will also be pulling into port that same day. Everything will be fine, Sanji-san."
The cook was about to say more when the swordsman walked in. The green-haired man looked them both over before shooing them both out of the kitchen.
"It's my day today and I don't need either of you peeking over my shoulder and critiquing," Zoro growled, pushing them both out. "And Chopper says you're supposed to be taking it easy today anyhow, stupid Cook."
With that, Sanji was kicked out of his own kitchen. Sighing, he pulled out a cigarette and carefully lit it, the nicotine doing more for his nerves than anything else could. Putting his hands in his pockets, he went to go find something else to do while breakfast cooked.
Nami was concerned.
Sanji was sitting at the dining room table anxiously, the ashtray before him filled with several spent cigarette butts (she truly hoped some of those were from yesterday), while the chef himself smoked yet another. His foot bounced nervously under the table, and while he greeted her with his usual "Good morning, Nami-swan!~" he kept stealing glances over to the kitchen.
Meanwhile, the source of the cook's anxiety, Luffy, was making a terrible racket in there, laughing and banging together various pots, pans, and utensils. They had done all they could to prepare for this. Only the ingredients needed for breakfast were out with the rest of the food safely locked away. A recipe card was stuck to the cupboard above the stove, complete with simple instructions and pictures to show Luffy what to do (Sanji didn't entirely trust that Luffy could read. Based on the real estate Luffy took up in the library, Nami couldn't blame him.)
Ignoring the noise coming from the kitchen, Nami walked up to Sanji and put a reassuring hand on his shoulder. "Are you alright, Sanji-kun?"
"O-of course, Nami-san!" the cook answered with a bright smile, before immediately returning his stare to the kitchen. Nami sighed. But she couldn't really fault Sanji for being so nervous. Especially given how the past two days had gone.
Zoro's plan for cooking had been to make a huge pot of rice and base all their meals around that. So it was rice, sea king steak, and sake for breakfast. And then sea king rice balls and sake for lunch. Followed by stir fried rice (with only sea king and sake stirred into it) for dinner. This wouldn't have been a bad plan except…Zoro had vastly underestimated how much longer those large portions of rice and meat needed to be cooked in the first place. As a result every meal had had crunchy, undercooked rice and some questionably cooked sea king.
"It's sea king sushi," Zoro had answered when Nami had shown him her raw piece of sea king.
"It's sea king roast," the swordsman had answered Usopp when he pointed out that his piece-from the same sea king-was cooked.
"You have half sea king sushi, half sea king roast," Zoro had told Brook when the skeleton had pointed out that his piece was half raw, half cooked.
Chopper and Franky had chewed on their crunchy rice with grimaces. With the exception of Luffy and Zoro, who gobbled down the food regardless, everyone had shot knowing glances around the table.
"Ah well, that sure was good," Usopp had said after a few bites, standing up. "But I'm afraid I'm already full."
"Yep, I second that," Franky had agreed. "Got a full day of maintenance to do."
One by one, they had begun to stand, muttering whatever excuses came to them. Until a fist had slammed on the table, causing the plates and cutlery to clatter. Everyone's eyes had turned to the source, their cook. The blond had sat quietly next to Luffy the entire meal, not saying a word.
Until now.
"Give it to me," Sanji had stated.
"Uh…what?" Usopp had asked.
"The food you're all about to waste. Give it to me," Sanji had repeated. Hesitantly, Brook had passed him his half and half plate. Sanji had looked the food over.
"The outer layer of the sea king has been deep seared, ensuring any bacteria have been thoroughly cooked. By cutting off the blackened and burnt portions," the chef had explained, using his fork and dinner knife to cut away the offending parts, "and separating the raw portions to be cooked for later meals…" he had separated the raw portions to a separate plate, "and adding a little more water to the rice…" water had been poured into the rice from the cook's drinking glass, "the meal is still edible, even if it's not palatable." With that, the cook had started eating the food before him.
"Sanji, wait!" Chopper had cried, "You're not supposed to be eating solids yet! Just fluids-!"
"I will not let food go to waste, Chopper," the cook had answered firmly with a look around the room. One by one, they had sat back down, and using Sanji's advice, finished the salvaged meal.
Somehow Brook's day had been even worse. No one had considered the fact that the skeleton didn't have taste buds. The food had all been extremely spicy, extremely bitter, or extremely sweet. Plus the easily startled skeleton had managed to drop half of it on the floor. But, once again with Sanji's help and advice, most of it hadn't gone to waste.
And now it was Luffy's turn. Nami looked at the pale chef in concern. The last couple of days had been hardest on him, she knew. Sanji had insisted on eating a little bit of everything Zoro and Brook had made. And after not eating solid food for weeks, it had not been a good change of pace for his system. She had heard him getting up at various points during the night, oftentimes with Chopper or one of the others going with him. The man was not well.
"Aah!" Luffy cried out from the kitchen. In a flash, the navigator and cook were in there.
"Luffy, what's…How did you manage to do that?!" Nami shrieked at the sight before her. The rubber man stood with a block of tofu in his hand, a knife cut straight through it…all the way into Luffy's hand, blood pooling around the tofu and dripping down Luffy's knuckles. The raven-haired boy looked ready to burst into tears.
"I w-wanted to cut it like the chefs do….it always looks so cool…" he sniffled. Next to her, Nami heard Sanji growl in annoyance before he stepped forward.
"It takes practice to do that, idiot. When you're still learning, use a cutting board," Sanji said gently, carefully removing the knife and placing it in the sink before picking up the now-ruined tofu and throwing it in the trash.
"B-but…I wasted food…" Luffy continued to cry.
"Don't worry about that," Sanji assured his captain as he grabbed a towel and examined the cut. "It's not deep, but it would be a good idea to have Chopper take a look at it. Might get infected." He guided Luffy's hand to the sink, rinsing it clean before wrapping the cut in the towel and tying it tight.
"What about the food?" Luffy asked. Sanji glanced at the ingredients on the counter before picking up a second block of tofu. He grabbed another knife from the cutting block and expertly cut the tofu in the palm of his hand, using the "cool chef's trick" Luffy had tried to emulate earlier. Then he dumped the tofu in the pot of boiling broth on the stove, before turning the flame down.
"It's miso soup, you moron. You don't want to boil it or you'll make it bitter." Sanji stated. Nami's eyes widened at the sight, but she said nothing, not wanting to ruin the moment.
"Oooh," Luffy said, sagely. "What about the fish?"
"What about the fish?"
"The picture shows the fish in the pan with the oil and then shows the pan on the stove. Is it done yet?" Luffy asked. He pointed to a couple of fish fillets which, sure enough, sat in a pan on the stove. Completely cold. Sanji face palmed.
"Luffy," the chef asked slowly. "Did you turn the stove on?"
The rubber man glanced at the recipe card. "There's no picture."
"It's right there, you rubber-brained idiot!" Sanji's snapped, pointing at the recipe card. "There's a little flame under the pan!"
Luffy narrowed his eyes at the card. "If you say so." Sanji let out an exasperated sigh.
"Look, you shitty rubber! You put oil in the pan, season the fish," Sanji reached to the counter, grabbing a couple of spices that were sitting there, and then proceeded to sprinkle them over the fillets, "put the pan on the stove," he gestured to the pan before grabbing the knob and turning it to activate the flame, "and cook them for seven minutes at medium-low heat. It's simple!"
With that, the cook leaned with one hand on the counter, the other hand on his hip, glaring at his rubber captain to make sure he'd been paying attention. Luffy was watching intently, the blank expression on his face ensuring Nami that he'd learned absolutely nothing, and neither of those two idiots realized what had just happened!
"Sanji-kun, you did it!" she cried joyfully, putting her hands together. They both turned to look at her, dumbfounded expressions on both faces. "The stove! You turned it on!"
"Of course, I did Nami-san. This idiot needs to learn…" and then it hit him. "Wait…you're right. I did do it. I turned it on!"
Luffy was laughing. "Shishishishi! I knew you could do it, Sanji!"
And then they were all laughing and cheering and clapping and before Nami knew it, Luffy had both her and the cook wrapped in one of his excited hugs, tackling them both to the floor in the process. Normally, she would have been pissed, but she was so happy, she just couldn't bring herself to feel mad at their rubber captain.
"Wait, the fish! The fish!" Sanji finally shouted, picking himself up off the floor and checking on the state of the food.
"Shishishi! Oops! Almost burned it. Sorry, Sanji," Luffy apologized, picking himself off the floor and then placing a hand on his hat in embarrassment.
"Yeah, yeah, it's fine," Sanji waved him off, engrossed in the food. Once he saved the fish, he did reach a hand down to Nami though, to help her off the floor. Always the gentleman.
"Thank you, Sanji-kun," she said, flashing him a brilliant smile that had the cook turning into putty.
"Hey, Sanji. Can I help you cook the rest?" Luffy asked excitedly. Sanji paused a moment before nodding.
"Fine. But you need to follow my directions, got it?" the cook replied.
"Got it!" Luffy replied with a grin.
It wasn't long before the two had the meal cooked and set on the table (though it definitely would have taken less time without Luffy's "help," Nami thought.) Everyone started pouring into the dining room for breakfast, their faces looking happier than Nami remembered them looking in a long time. At last, the Thousand Sunny's dining room was filled with the cheer and chatter it always had when the Straw Hat Pirates gathered together for a meal prepared by their cook.
The next day the Transponder Snail rang.
"I've got it!" Luffy called out happily.
Sanji froze, nearly dropping the dishes he'd been holding. Nami, Zoro, and Jinbei all gave each other concerned glances.
"This is Luffy. I'm gonna be King of the Pirates!"
"I thought I told you to be a Marine, you ungrateful brat!" Garp's voice called from the snail.
Had she not known Sanji as well as she did, Nami would have missed the slight furrow of his brow, the tightening of his jaw, the harsh way he gripped the plates in his hands. All signs that he was angry. Furious. But with Luffy there, he was doing his best to hide it.
"Grandpa?!" Luffy cried out. "Wait. How did you get this number?"
Out the corner of her eye, Nami noticed Sanji stiffen and suck in a breath.
"Nevermind that. Anyway, I'm not calling to talk to you, Luffy," Garp explained. "Is your cook there?"
"Eh? Sanji?" Luffy asked, turning to look at the blond. Sanji turned to put the plates in the kitchen, his shoulders shaking with barely suppressed rage. Knowing what she did, Nami couldn't blame the cook for his anger. But she also knew Sanji well enough to know despite his tough exterior, he was a very emotional man. He wouldn't be able to keep a lid on his fury for long. Better for him not to have an audience when that lid came flying off.
"Jinbei?" she asked quietly. The former warlord seemed to get a quick read on the situation and needed no further coaxing. He began quietly guiding the rest of the crew out of the dining room. Once everyone else had piled out, the only ones left were Luffy, Zoro, Nami, and Sanji himself.
Nami glared at the swordsman, but he simply leaned back in his chair, a look of nonchalance on his face. Still, Nami didn't miss the look he gave to both their captain and their cook. Whether he was concerned for one or both or had also noticed the telltale signs of Sanji's rising anger, Nami wasn't sure. But she knew one thing: he wasn't going to leave.
"He's coming over now, Grandpa," Luffy said as Sanji came walking out of the kitchen, the dirty plates left in the sink. Luffy handed him the receiver. Sanji took a deep breath.
"What do you want?" the cook asked in a low growl.
"Oh, there you are, boy! How are you doing? You certainly sound better than I was expecting. It's been awhile, hasn't it?..." Garp asked, rambling a bit. Nami could see Sanji starting to shake, he was getting so angry. She stood, ready to walk over to him, remind the cook how he didn't want Luffy to know about Garp's role in Zeff's death. But a strong hand around her wrist stopped her. She looked down to see the green-haired swordsman looking up at her, one eyebrow cocked in a questioning look. She glanced at the cook, then back to Zoro, tried to pull her wrist free.
But then it was too late.
"So anyway," Garp continued rambling, "I'm glad to hear you're doing so well. After everything Sakazuki did to you, I was worried-"
"After everything HE did to me?!" Sanji screamed into the receiver, the lid finally bursting. Nami glanced at Luffy, who simply looked at Sanji with that questioning stare he got when he was trying to understand someone. "After what you did, not only do you dare to fucking call here…!"
"Sanji-kun! Please!" she cried out. There was some kind of shifting sound coming from the Transponder Snail, but neither Nami's voice nor the activity on the other end of the call reached the enraged cook.
"…but you actually have the bloody balls to ask how the fuck I'm-!"
"Little eggplant?"
The quiet voice cut through the cook's anger like a knife. Sanji stood there, gaping, his hand holding the receiver trembling.
"Little eggplant, I know I didn't teach you to talk like that when there's a lady present," the voice continued.
"Sh-shitty g-geezer?" the cook asked, his voice breaking. He dropped to his knees. Nami barely saw Luffy move; suddenly their captain was standing behind Sanji, holding the other man's shoulders and quietly giving him support. Next to her, Nami noticed a small smile on Zoro's face.
"Yep, you ain't rid of me that easily, little eggplant," Zeff replied. "Turns out, Garp the Fist is so good at the Finger Gun technique, he knows a place where you can hit a person directly on the heart and it won't kill them."
"Knocks 'em out and leaves a heck of a bruise though!" Garp called from somewhere in the background.
"Sorry for worrying you for so long, but Garp decided it was best if I laid low for a few weeks before I tried to contact you. Keep the Navy off my tail. In any case, according to the Navy's files, Red-Leg Zeff the infamous captain of the Cook Pirates is dead," Zeff explained. "And legally dead or not, just the same, once Garp gets me back to the Baratie, I'm telling those dumbasses to get ready to pack and we're gonna move the restaurant. We'll stick with the East Blue, but I'll send you a letter telling you the new location. You got that, little eggplant?"
Sanji nodded silently, too overcome with emotion to say anything. Luffy laughed, then took the receiver. "He's got it, old man."
"Ah, you're still around, eh, chore boy? Do me a favor, will you?" Zeff said. He paused for a moment. "If you ever see Sakazuki again, punch him in his smug face."
For once, one of Luffy's smiles chilled Nami's heart. "I will," the straw hat boy promised.
"Good. You still there, eggplant?" Zeff asked. Luffy handed the receiver back to Sanji, who was just outright sobbing at this point. "Hey, little eggplant? Sanji? You alright?!"
"Y-yeah, I'm just f-fine, shit-shitty geezer," Sanji answered, standing back up and trying to pull himself together.
With a smile, Luffy turned to his two remaining crewmates and gestured for them to follow him. As the three walked out of the galley, Nami stole back one glance at their cook, who, even with tears streaming down his cheek, had the biggest grin on his face that Nami had seen in ages. With a smile herself, Nami closed the door and left father and son to continue their conversation in private.
The End
Author's Note: Man, I was determined to have this story only have 4 chapters and I had a pretty good idea of what was going to happen in each (Sanji gets tortured/witnesses Zeff's death in the first, the Straw Hats get him back from Whole Cake Island in the second, Zoro pushes him too far and he tells Luffy what happened to him in the third, and he starts recovering and learns Zeff's alive in the fourth.) But damn, if this chapter didn't end up being almost as long as the other three chapters combined. I wanted to write Sanji recovering from his phobia of fire, but I didn't want it to happen too quickly or it wouldn't have seemed believable. Hence this chapter ended up being significantly longer than I had intended.
-Once again, I'm as bad as Oda. Zeff survived. But that's fine. I like Zeff.
-The scene Sanji describes to Robin about the birthday cake is in an actual short in the spin-off manga "One Piece Party," drawn by one of Oda's assistants. It's in Volume 5, at the end of Chapter 25. The first three chapters of One Piece Party are floating around the internet from scanlators, but the rest unfortunately isn't available in English yet. Though Chapter 25 is floating around in French.
-While some you can sear some fish while leaving the inside mostly raw (like ahi tuna) I wouldn't recommend Sanji's methods for saving the food for most meats. Putting water in the rice works, but you still need to simmer it again.
-The cutting tofu on the palm of your hand technique listed in the chapter is a real thing. Look up the Tasty video "How to Make Homemade Japanese Food" by Rae. The traditional Japanese breakfast is also somewhat of the meal Luffy was trying to make.
