Author's Note: Hey look! An update! Yippety-doo-dah!
Sorry about how long it took. I've been under a lot of stress lately. And when you've got no motivation other than your fickle muse to write something, why do it, right? It's not like I'm getting paid, or being recognized. Nope—I must be doing this for myself. Oh, and for Kieri.
I guess that's okay.
Enjoy the next installment—I expect the next one to be out soon, now that my muse has decided to show an interest in One Piece again. But I'm a liar, so be careful.
--Koru
Chapter Four
Aboard the Baratie, the kitchens were bustling with life and warmth. Despite their earlier run-in with the notorious Don Krieg and his crew, Zeff had worked his men tirelessly to repair the popular floating restaurant, and business was soon booming again.
There at first had been some mention by their customers at the difference in the food now that the star chef had left the establishment, and of course this only reminded the crew of his absence, resulting in one or two dishes being served wet and salty, but after a few days, things went back to normal. At the moment, things were as normal as could be, with Patty and Carne fighting over the special finishing ingredient for a chili that was overdue to be served.
"Pepper!" Patty hollered at Carne, shaking a bowl of freshly-chopped hot peppers in his gigantic fist. "This chili needs to be hotter!"
"Cinnamon!" Carne spat back, gripping his shaker so hard it nearly cracked. "The subtle spice will make it perfect!"
"Pepper!" Patty growled.
"Cinnamon!" Carne yelled.
"Hey guys!"
The two pirate chefs turned around. In the midst of their argument, they hadn't noticed the slowly growing excitement around them.
"Look who's back!" one of their mates called them to a port window.
Patty and Carne looked at each other, puzzled, then set down their respective ingredients and shoved their way through the crowd of aprons and chef hats to cram their big noses against the portholes. Both mouths cracked wide grins at what they saw.
With a great whoop, Patty and Carne lead the cooks out onto the docking platform to prepare for the arrival of the familiar vessel, everyone cheering and hollering and waving their hats, aprons or utensils in the air—some were too excited to have realized what they still had in hand when they left the kitchen; one cook even came out with a gigantic caesar salad, which he tossed into the air and caught expertly as it fell.
"What's all this about!" Zeff's voice bellowed over the cheering as he came lumbering out onto the deck, bringing with him a pot of burnt chili. "Why aren't you in the kitchen!"
The cooks were spared a response as Zeff spotted the source of all the commotion. A small boat sailed swiftly towards the Baratie, its largest sail painted with an unmistakable insignia—that of a pirate's skull and crossbones, the skull smiling and topped with a straw hat.
He watched for a while, as if unsure what he was seeing. A smile tugged for a second at the corner of his mouth, but was quickly squashed by a frown of doubt. Something wasn't right.
He ducked his tall hat under the doorway and returned to the kitchen, taking the chili with him.
It wasn't long before the boat was close enough for the cooks to throw ropes out and lasso the craft to the dock. They all shouted up to their lost comrade, fighting hand over hand for who would get to him first and squeeze the life out of him with a Baratie bear hug.
"Oi, Sanji!" Carne called up. "Found All Blue so soon?"
"Get out here, you little shrimp!" Patty added.
The crew added their own catcalls to the clamour, threw out their fists and called Sanji's name, along with those of his crewmates. After a while, with no response, the cheering died down, until no one was making a sound.
The ship was silent.
But no—there was someone aboard. Something making a sound. It was high and wailing, like someone doing a bad job of playing the clarinet.
"Sanji?" Patty called up. No response. He looked over at Carne and they exchanged nods. The two loaded the gangplank and slowly, cautiously boarded the ship.
A few brave souls followed Patty and Carne onto what now appeared to be a ghost ship. They all looked around cautiously, but no one was in sight. Exchanging another set of nods, Carne and Patty split up to check out the boat, a few cooks behind each of them.
Carne headed over to the bow of the ship, where he came upon no one up to the masthead, which seemed oddly out of place with its gay smile and wide eyes. There was something missing from it, though Carne couldn't think of what.
"Carne," someone whispered apprehensively. Carne turned and the cook pointed out a figure shadowed by one of the ship's masts. He had been hidden by it when they boarded. Carne thought he recognized the man, but he wasn't sure. He had something in his hand.
Carefully, Carne made his way over to the seated figure, his small band of comrades at his back. He came right up to him, but he didn't move. Carne knew this man. Or, he thought he did. But was this the same green-haired swordsman they had met not long ago?
"Zoro?"
The man didn't move. His head was bowed over and he appeared to be sleeping. This wouldn't have surprised Carne, but when he bent over, he saw that his eyes were open. They stared, sunken and unblinking, at the straw hat he held in his hand, his usually strong grip almost tender against the worn, yellow brim.
"Hey, Carne!" a cook called down in as quiet a tone as he could muster. He waved to the others to come up and have a look at the kitchen.
Carne took another look at the reclusive swordsman, but seeing there was nothing he could do, he headed up the stairs to the top cabin. The cook who had called him pointed in an almost frightened way into the room. He was in obvious awe of what he had seen. Unsure about this, Carne tiptoed into the room, and was immediately relieved to see the familiar blonde head.
"San—!"
The cook caught Carne by the shoulder, who looked around at him. The cook shook his head and pointed again, as if instructing him to take a closer look. When he did, he wished he hadn't.
Sanji's hair was a rumpled mess, his clothes caked with salt and torn from battle. One of his shoes was missing. Before him, he slowly shuffled a skillet over the stove. The movement was sluggish and half-aware, like he was set on auto-pilot and was running out of power. The stove had long since run out of gas, and the contents of the skillet were burnt beyond recognition.
This isn't right, Carne decided. He strode forward and put a hand on Sanji's shoulder.
"Sanji?"
The blonde practically crumbled under the weight of Carne's hand, his head tilting uncomfortably to one side and cracking from stiffness. He leaned over and turned around.
"Hi, guys," he croaked, his lips dry and cracked. "I didn't know you were going to come. I should have made more eggs…."
He turned back to his skillet and observed the black mess as though seeing it for the first time.
"Whoops," he said absently. "Better make some more. These are no good."
It took some work to unclench his fingers from the handle, and Carne could practically see the dead skin peal off of Sanji's hand as he detached himself and made for the fridge. One step, however, and he simply fell over. Carne and the others were there to catch him.
Sanji was suddenly face-up, and looking at everyone's concerned expressions. His eyes, once half-dead and distant, suddenly moistened and closed tightly shut. He put a hand to his face and gritted his teeth. He couldn't say anything else as the cooks looked between themselves in puzzlement.
Above them, Patty and his boys were having no better luck. They had followed the sounds of the badly-played clarinet up to the helm, where they found the sharpshooter slumped over the wheel, blubbering ceaselessly. He came out of it briefly when Patty tapped him on the shoulder.
Usopp looked up at the big cook with round eyes that were flooded with tears. Patty and the others took a step back.
"What happened?" Patty asked.
Usopp opened his mouth a little and made a tiny squeak, then tried to close his mouth again, but only managed in drawing his lower lip to his upper, the corners of his mouth open in an expression of uncontrollable grief. Then he opened his mouth wide and wailed, tears splashing over the crew, who tried unsuccessfully to shelter themselves and soon fled.
As they came down off the landing, they nearly ran into Carne and his crew, who were supporting Sanji as they made their way slowly back to the gangplank.
"Sanji!" Patty shouted, barreling over to him. "Are you all right? What happened to you?"
"I'm…I'm all right, Patty," Sanji said wearily. "Check on the others."
He lowered his head so that his unruly blonde hair could cover both eyes.
"I haven't been doing my job very well, so they're probably in need of food and water."
"I'm on it," Patty said, and sprinted back to the Baratie, the others who were not helping Carne carry Sanji right behind him.
They didn't even make it into the kitchen before Zeff emerged with a sack of provisions and a large jug of water.
"What has that little eggplant done now?" he grumbled, trumping up the dock on his wooden leg. Patty and the others followed in silence as Sanji was slowly assisted down the gangplank. Zeff stopped in front of them. Sanji wouldn't look him in the eye.
Zeff hauled a cup out of the bag over his shoulder, then shoved the bag at Patty and poured a cup of water, offering it to Sanji.
"Drink."
Sanji just ducked down lower.
"I don't deserve it," he half-whispered.
"Drink it!"
Sanji looked up at Zeff with bloodshot eyes underlined by dark shadows. Zeff's expression remained unchanged. Sanji slowly took the cup, but Zeff knew he wasn't strong enough to hold it himself, and helped him tip it to his lips until he'd drained it, then tossed the cup to Patty.
"Get him some food," Zeff told Carne.
"Yes, sir!" Carne saluted, Sanji's arm still over his shoulder. He and the other men carted Sanji through the kitchens and to the cook's mess hall while Zeff boarded the Going Merry.
It was hard to get water into the bawling sharpshooter—he would barely stop crying long enough to drink, and once the drink was in him, he'd just cry it all out. The swordsman was even harder—he wouldn't drink at all. It was as if he had turned to stone. Zeff had Patty pick him up to carry him back to the Baratie, but once he was on his feet, Zoro simply stalked off towards the kitchens, as if completely aware of what was going on, though his eyes never left the hat.
"Find the other two," Zeff told the other cooks who were still aboard. They saluted their Head Chef and scoured the ship for any more signs of life. Men climbed up to the crows nest and down into the ship's belly, looking for them. It was Zeff himself who found the girl in her map room below the kitchen. Unlike the others, she reacted immediately when he opened the door.
"So we've arrived?" she asked without facing him.
Zeff didn't answer at first. He didn't quite know what to say.
"Yes."
"Is everyone still alive?"
He was a bit taken aback at her casual tone, but he maintained his own.
"Yes."
Nami put down her quill, which was clogged with dry ink, and got uneasily to her feet.
"I suppose it's time to come out and face it now."
"I suppose it is," Zeff said.
Nami looked up at the chef and offered him a weary smile before walking passed him and stepping into the light, blinking and holding up a hand to shield her eyes. As she got used to the light, she saw the other men looking about the ship. She looked back at Zeff, who was still in the shadows. She, too, had circles under her lids, but her eyes were still sharp and intelligent, if not slightly red.
"You won't find him," she said.
Zeff didn't need to ask who she was talking about. There was only one man left to find.
Nami waited as if expecting him to ask why. When he didn't she dropped her head and turned around, then followed the other cooks back to the kitchens.
Zeff looked back into the map room. There was a near-blank sheet where she had been working. The quill lay still upon it, drained by the single word upon the page.
No.