Author's Note: Hello everyone and welcome to my first ever One Piece story! Now I know that writing this is rather stupid, considering I've seen so little of the show, but for the past few weeks, all I've been doing is reading stories about Zoro and Sanji and I have to agree, I love them together! This is my first AU story for anime I've ever written and it's very different from what I usually write in various different ways. First of all, there are a lot more warnings, on top of the fact that this is a rating I've never had to use before. There will be various warnings, which will be stated ahead of time before the chapter starts as fair warning for anyone, but I've never written something like this before so it's my first time writing these kinds of themes, so pardon me, I'm learning. I brought the story to Japan, made the Baratie a restaurant that didn't float on water and made all the cooks and waiters rather different. This was inspired by the Baratie arc, (obviously) because most people just write the Baratie as part of Sanji's life, they never really look into it all that much and focus on him being a cook rather than him being a cook who works at the Baratie. Please review if you like it so I know to continue! No flames, sorry if facts aren't perfect and unlike most of my stories, the characters will be pretty OOC, to fit the story. I did some research for this chapter alone so that I could get the right kind of dishes and such, please look them up if you want cause I can't figure out a way to describe them. I use yen, the Japanese currency, when Zoro talks about prices. I've basically figured out that 100 yen is about 1 dollar, and while maybe you might think these prices are low, to me they're incredibly high. Also, I know close to nothing about restaurants, so once again, sorry if my information isn't correct. I don't own One Piece.

Slightly edited note (because I haven't corrected anything yet): I have changed this story's name because the other name was too long and I like this title better cause I think it fits Sanji perfectly.


Beautiful Disaster
By: Setkia


Full Summary

Sanji is the assistant cook of the world-renowned restaurant, the Baratie, the only restaurant like it in the world. He's a successful chef and flirts with the customers every chance he can get but there's a problem. It's all a facade. The cooks give a new meaning to the word "abusive", both mental and physical. The only thing keeping Sanji alive is his love for cooking and a good ol' pack of cigarettes.

Zoro Roronoa is a swordsman who suddenly has more change in his pocket than he expected and enters the Baratie by recommendation. His waiter happens to be a curly browed man with an adoration for cigarettes. An attempt speak to the head chef goes horribly wrong and he gets sucked into the crumbling world of the chef's, wondering how he can possibly save him and better yet, why does he want to save him in the first place?


Chapter 1: The Waiter With The Curly Brow


A friend of his, Johnny, had recommended the joint. Said it served the best food he had ever tasted, even if they were a bit pricey. It was worth it to eat their legendary soup that had made itself known throughout all of Japan.

Seeing as he was almost always short on money, the green-haired man had decided that once his wallet was full of yen, he wouldn't bother wasting it on some stupid meal at some fancy-smancy restaurant, yet he found himself speaking to a blond man behind a counter, conversing over the topic of his reservation.

"Zoro Roronoa," Zoro said.

The blond looked up at him and Zoro took in the man. A blue eye was visible underneath one of the curliest eyebrows Zoro had ever seen, while the other eye was hidden underneath a curtain of golden hair. In the corner of the man's mouth was a cigarette, which rested lazily in between his lips and as he inhaled it, you'd think it were the loveliest rose in the world.

The man, whose name-tag read "Sanji", raised his curly eyebrow. "Roronoa," he repeated, his voice low and deep. He looked back up at him and smiled, obviously faking it. He couldn't be older than Zoro's age. Sanji took a menu from beneath the table and with his free hand, took his cigarette out. He threw it into the waste bin beside the counter and flashed him another fake smile. "Please follow me."

Zoro didn't like the man's attitude, but he followed him anyway and took a seat in the far back of the restaurant where there was a "No Smoking" sign. So that's why the man had gotten rid of his. He seemed like a chain-smoker so of course there was a good reason why he had put his out. It wasn't because he might have realized Zoro disliked the smell of nicotine.

Zoro waited anxiously for the man to leave, the smell of his cigarettes sticking to the blond's black suit and making him cringe, but instead, the man did not move. In fact, he stayed put. "My name is Sanji, sir, is there anything I can get you to drink?"

Zoro's eyes widened. No fucking way. "E-excuse me?"

"May I get you anything to drink?" repeated the waiter. "We have a large assortment of alcoholic and non-alcoholic beverages, all relatively reasonably priced."

Zoro gaped. "B-but—"

"Yes?"

"You're … you're that guy who's behind the counter, aren't you? Doesn't that mean you're not a waiter? How can you have two jobs at once?"

The man frowned. "We're a little short on staff," said Sanji. "Everyone works on a rotation schedule and to be dreadfully honest sir, I'm not a waiter and would wish if you did not call me such. I'm a cook, a chef to be more precise. I'm merely filling in for certain roles which are currently vacant. However, I do believe the job which you so eloquently described as 'that guy behind the counter' would be the receptionist, Mr. Roronoa."

Zoro nodded numbly. Great, stuck with this guy for a whole night? No matter, he'd just order his food, eat quickly and leave. The Lord knew he was better at inhaling food rather than eating it and savouring flavours. He was a busy man with a tight schedule; he couldn't put his whole day on hold for a few leisurely minutes to eat.

The waiter— cook, gave him a nod. "Now, about that drink?"

Zoro opened his menu to look at the various options of beverages.

Let's see, cocktails are 18 00 yen, red or white wine is 20 00 yen per bottle, a martini is 15 00 yen, a— holy crap, there's no way a glass of vodka can possibly be 30 00 yen! Reasonable prices my ass!

"I'll just have water," Zoro said, sending the fake cook a fake smile. It was good that he didn't have any alcohol anyway, he had a tournament tomorrow, it wouldn't do well to wake up with a hangover.

Sanji nodded. "Please, feel free to browse the menu and let me know when you've made your decision."

Zoro nodded and stared back down at the menu.

Fuck, this place was expensive!

Zoro could already tell his wallet would be drained in a matter of minutes and that was if he only had an appetizer with no main course. How could people afford this stuff? The food couldn't be good enough to even consider putting such prices on the meals. He watched as other waiters walked around the room and settled on a simple sashimi and cucumber and avocado sushi for his appetizer. It seemed as though his wallet would be about 120 00 yen lighter, but he would survive. Somehow.

He called Sanji over and ordered his meal, waiting with his water with fresh ice in it, for it to come. He wasn't sure why, but the water tasted fantastic, which was strange since water had never really had much of a taste to begin with in Zoro's opinion, but maybe it was the fancy setting the restaurant had that made him think that this water was more spectacular than any other. The ice couldn't have magical properties, could it?

Zoro raised the glass to his eye, as though by doing this, he could better understand its secrets. He watched the ice swirl around inside and heard a woman chuckle to his left. Immediately, his head snapped around but the woman looked away, instead speaking to her friend, whispering in her ear. Probably about him from the way the girl was giggling as well.

It wasn't his fault he had never been to such a high-class place. Just because he might be famous in the martial arts and kenjutsu circles didn't mean that he made all that much money. Kendo fights only gave him so much money and just because he was also a free-lance fighter in other sectors of Japan didn't mean he received any money for that, it was more of a hobby anyway. Zoro wouldn't apologize if his etiquette didn't match that of others.

The cook brought over his food as he pondered the best way to explain himself— a uncouth, dirty swordsman in such an elegant place as the Baratie— to the woman, before he decided it didn't matter once the smell of his appetizer met his nose.

It was heavenly. Just the smell of it was enough to make his mouth water. The cook seemed rather pleased, watching the way Zoro practically salivated over the dish before he finally got his chopsticks in his hand and dug in.

Zoro didn't usually savour the flavour of anything, but it was truly exquisite and he found it would be downright rude not to enjoy the taste. It melted on his tongue, tantalizing his tastebuds and left him wanting more. It took perhaps a minute and a half before all of the sushi was gone.

He frowned at his now empty plate. He probably could've eaten slower.

Sanji let out a laugh and Zoro realized, to his surprise, that he hadn't moved during the entire time (as short as it was) that he had been eating. Come to think of it, when his eyes had roamed around the restaurant while he was waiting, not once did he ever see the blond disappear through the swinging doors to the kitchen except to place the order and to retrieve it. If Zoro had actually bothered to calculate it, in total, Sanji had probably spent a total of a minute inside the kitchen— strange for someone who called himself a cook.

"What are you looking at?" Zoro hissed at him, taking a deep gulp of water.

"You're enjoying your meal I see?"

What kind of a question was that? And was it even a question? The way Sanji said it was as though he expected an answer to a question, but the certainty in his statement could not be denied. It was as though he wanted Zoro to boost his ego or something. Zoro's eyes narrowed and the man laughed again. It was short and abrupt, and it wasn't until the cook took his plate that Zoro realized it was fake.

Horribly and completely hollow of emotion, thinking about that laugh sent shivers down Zoro's spine. There was something up about this cook. It wasn't his place to say anything though, considering he didn't even know the man so instead of asking, he busied himself with thinking about his main dish.

He licked his lips. Knowing that the appetizer was this good had to mean that the main course would be just as good, if not better. His eyes continued to scan the restaurant, his fingers tapping an unidentifiable rhythm on the tablecloth as he kept his eye on his waiter, purposefully this time. There was just something strange about him. He attracted your eye with his blond hair, the only blond in the room, and his posit and stance and just about everything about him. Like he was acting too hard to be normal so he stuck out and yet he didn't at the same time.

He watched as Sanji leaned over a table to speak to a nice woman with pretty blonde hair. He had a cigarette in his mouth once more and it seemed as though that was where it was meant to be. He was obviously flirting with the girl, who blushed and swatted his hand away playfully. He whispered something in her ear and Zoro chuckled.

The Baratie may be high-class, but the waiters didn't seem all that put together.

The way Sanji moved though —watching the cook as he walked across the restaurant, flirting, taking orders and speaking with the clients— it was so fluid and natural, Zoro had to say he had just imagined the strangeness of the man, but right when he was about to stop his observation (it was beginning to seem creepy, if he could be honest with himself), he saw Sanji accidentally bump into another waiter.

The waiter dropped his tray by accident and Sanji caught it quickly, giving it back to him, but the look on the other waiter's face was nowhere near grateful. In fact, he scowled and Sanji took a step back, as though bitten.

The route that Sanji took across the restaurant, Zoro realized, watching the blond move, was not fluid and natural in the very least. The way he seemed to glide was because he was on the tips of his toes, ready to move anywhere at the last instant and whenever he found himself in a corner of the room, the curly browed cook would look at the room calculatingly before he took his steps, always moving in a certain route. A route that, Zoro realized, avoided all other waiters in the room.

It was subtle, almost unnoticeable, the way that Sanji seemed to ignore them, as though they weren't there. He didn't make it obvious and Zoro supposed it wasn't supposed to be obvious. He did it so naturally, so instinctively, you wouldn't think it was unusual unless you saw the way his jaw clenched onto the cigarette in his mouth tighter when he was dangerously close to brushing by another waiter.

Certain his hungry stomach was making him see things, Zoro was more than delighted when his main course arrived.

Using his chopsticks, he took a piece of the sashimi and instantly, his eyes closed and his head tossed itself back. He let out a delighted moan that was just a little too loud and the entire room turned towards him. He opened his eyes and glared at them all before taking another bite out of the orgasmic meal.

If the appetizer was heaven then the meal was paradise. It made him want to roll his eyes into the back of his head and just slip into a coma of the sensations it gave him, filling his stomach fully and wonderfully.

"Satisfied?" asked Sanji with a smirk.

The cigarette was gone once more, but the smoke was still in his breath, the smallest trace of the toxic substance visible when he spoke. Zoro considered moving to a different table, one which allowed smoking, for the cook's sake, but thought better of it. He was almost done anyway, there was no reason to move just so that man could rot his teeth and give himself lung cancer.

Zoro finished his food and was well and full when Sanji handed him another menu. "What would you like for dessert, Mr. Roronoa?" he asked.

Dessert? Zoro hadn't even thought of dessert. Imagawayaki sounded remarkably good right now and despite the fact that his stomach was busting, Zoro nodded and asked for an order of it.

It was only after the menu was gone and the order was placed that Zoro realized how many zeroes had been next to the dessert's price. He was going to go bankrupt here, with all the amazing food. He hated to admit it but Johnny had been right. Regardless of that, Zoro wouldn't be able to pay his rent, never mind the bill at this rate.

He watched Sanji as he lit another cigarette and took a long inhale before letting it out. The cook's hands looked delicate, which was strange considering Zoro knew cooks used knives and rough materials —not to mention they kneaded dough— so how was it that Sanji's hands looked so smooth?

When his dessert was brought to him, he ate it without question and once again, nearly melted from the taste. He almost let out another moan, but he held it in, Sanji smirking all the while, probably knowing that Zoro was loving his meal.

Once he was done, the check came. This was the part that Zoro had been dreading. Pulling out his wallet, he searched through his money. His tally was 147 75 yen. Boy was he glad he hadn't asked for any fancy wine.

He paid his amount and was about to stand when he thought about it.

He had been paying an unnatural amount of attention towards his waiter and the service had been good, not to mention the food (Zoro was sure if he thought about the food long enough, he might end up moaning again, so he resisted the urge), and so, perhaps he could spare a few more minutes and speak to the head chef, give his proper compliments towards him and all, when he looked up and realized the waiter was gone.

He looked both left and right, scanning the entire room, but found no blond with a curly brow to be seen. Which meant either he had gone home, or perhaps he was in the kitchen.

Zoro pushed out his chair and got his jacket, which he had insisted stay on the back of his chair throughout the night, and looked for the doors to the kitchen. Maybe he could just pop in quickly, give the man his compliments to the chef and then he'd get the sleep he needed before his competition tomorrow.

Zoro stopped in front of the kitchen doors, about to open them, when he heard a loud sound.

In general, Zoro figured that kitchens were noisy, with cooks and chefs and waiters running in and out, plus the sound of the pots and pans— the making of food was no silent task, after all— but this loud sound had not been pots or pans, though Zoro wished it had been. No, this loud sound was a scream. One of a pain.

He looked behind him at the restaurant to see if anyone else had heard it or if it was only him. Perhaps it was just loud because he was so close to the door? Against his better judgement, Zoro listened, wondering what was happening.

"You think I can serve this shit?" someone demanded loudly.

There was a wince and Zoro looked through the small window of the doors to see the inside. It was messy and now that he thought about it, there wasn't really a shortage of staff from the amount of waiters outside and the amount of cooks inside the kitchen. There was steam from the pots and beeping from the ovens, telling others that certain meals were done but he searched for the one who had spoken and saw it was a large man in a hairnet, waving around a ladle as though it were a weapon.

"There's nothing wrong with my soup!"

Zoro knew that voice. Though he had only heard it for the first time today, there was no denying it was Sanji. Looking around the kitchen though, he couldn't see him. He concluded he had to be behind the unnaturally huge man.

"Oh yeah?" demanded the other man who was towering over Sanji. "Are you trying to poison our customers? This shit's horrible—"

Hadn't Sanji said he was a chef? He had sounded so proud of himself when he said it too. What kind of chef took pride in his meals if they were shit? Was one of them lying?

CRASH!

A bowl of soup fell to the floor and shattered, the liquid pooling at the man's feet. "I can't believe the head cook lets you cook here! And why were you out there serving? You're a cook, as shitty as you are, you aren't supposed to be out with the waiters!"

"I'm a shitty cook?" Sanji repeated. "I'm the shitty cook? I'm surprised people can manage to swallow the load of crap you feed them!"

SMACK!

Sanji fell to the floor, staggering back. He came into Zoro's line of vision and he couldn't deny the cigarette he saw in Sanji's mouth. "What the fuck was that for?" demanded Sanji.

"The old man isn't here, which means you're no different from us," the big man said. "Which is why you should know your fucking place!" He struck Sanji with the ladle harshly in the gut and Zoro watched the pain as it registered across Sanji's face. Zoro felt a sudden pain in his gut as well.

"And that sashimi you made?" The man spat on the ground, onto the soup. "The only reason we served it was because we didn't have time to fix your fuck up!"

Wait, Sanji had made that heavenly sashimi? What the fuck was this man talking about then? If Sanji had made that food, then he was clearly an exceptional cook! Why was this man sprouting lies to him?

"Now get the fucking dishes done, you're not leaving this room till closing time, right Carne?" the big man asked, turning to grin at someone who was out of Zoro's line of vision.

The man moved away, kicking the broken pieces of the bowl at Sanji, before he rolled up his sleeves and went to cooking.

Sanji bit his lip and pulled his knee up to himself, taking a long drag out of his cigarette. He picked up the broken pieces of the bowl while the rest of the kitchen continued as though this were nothing new. Was this … normal?

When Sanji threw the shattered remains of the bowl into the garbage, he looked up and his blue eyes locked on Zoro.

Sanji looked as though he had been caught committing a heinous crime, freezing, the colour draining from his already pale face. Was this the secret of the curly brow waiter? Was this why he avoided the other waiters?

Zoro couldn't think straight and instead, bolted from the scene and got into his car, wondering what he had just bared witness to.

Though he didn't know the cook at all, Zoro found himself hoping he was okay and vowing to come back the next night, regardless of whether or not he was broke. But no, that was a lie. It was happening. He had seen it all before and he was about to see it again, but hopefully, this time there would be a different ending.


1st Edit: August 2nd 2015

2nd Edit: November 29th 2015