Suffering in Silence
By Dixxy Mouri
Love
Puberty had hit Sanji like a freight train and after a horrible year of pimples, a voice that cracked so often Zeff used to joke they could make an omelet from the sound, and some pretty terrible coordination as his arms and legs grew faster than what he was used to, he came out the other side looking like the prince he desperately wished he wasn't.
It was funny, really – a lot of the girls who went to the Baratie used to fantasize about meeting a dreamy prince in disguise to sweep them off their feet and take them away from it all, never knowing that the man with a smile on his face, a cigarette in his mouth, and a tray full of food and drinks and desserts was exactly the kind of person they were talking about. They all had their own ideas of what this entailed, of course, but Sanji was reasonably certain most of the other young men in his position wouldn't have dreamed of leaving the lap of luxury to go be a cook in the middle of the quietest of the Big Blues.
Then again, most of them didn't come from them. These girls wanted their knight in shining armor to ride in on a white horse and whisk them away to a land of fairy tales, but all he'd be able to bring them was blood and despair . . . if they knew who he was. As long as they thought he was just a cook, then he could still try and make them happy.
Sanji suspected girls would be flinging themselves at him left and right if he'd stayed home, and he could have had any girl he wanted for a lover (though he was less certain about having any girl he wanted for a wife – that was a decision he was never truly sure would have been his own, even before he left). But that was fine – he enjoyed the chase, making every success that much sweeter.
He would have been furious if he knew he'd managed to discard his virginity by seventeen, the key word being "discard". Sanji was too young at the time he left to know for sure how they felt about it, but virgins were more "desirable" for arranged marriages, even among prospective grooms. Knowing this, getting laid was a top priority, and not just in the sense that he was a sixteen-year-old boy so of course getting between a girl's legs was a top priority.
Sanji slept with the first girl who said "yes". He didn't love her, and she didn't love him, and there was a silent understanding between them that they both had ulterior motives, but he couldn't deny that it had been fun while it lasted, she'd enjoyed it as much as he had (making himself last more than five minutes his first time for the win!) and the satisfaction of making himself at least partially ruined to them made him feel just the tiniest bit safer.
Then again, Sanji would come to regret that decision years later when he saw that orange haired girl laughing with the new chore boy's crew. Something about her enthralled him – her laugh, her smile, that hair – she was something special, and he grimaced in remembrance of that one night three years earlier.
Well, maybe it didn't matter – he was nobody now, or at least that's what he was trying to stick with (and, well, with how long he'd been gone maybe he really was a "nobody" by that point anyways – they had to have stopped looking for him by now, right?). And it wasn't as big of a deal for normal nobodies, right? Maybe she wouldn't care, maybe she'd been with someone else by then, too.
Sanji was fascinated with her, even more so when she stole the man who would be his new captain's boat. He wanted to learn more about her, more about Monkey D. Luffy, and . . . it seemed as if this was it, this was the chance to go find All Blue that enchanted him, and he found himself agreeing to the voyage. He was still afraid of them, but somehow, this felt too right, too perfect to ignore. Maybe it was that orange haired woman, maybe it was this crazy kid with the rubber body screaming about becoming the Pirate King, but it was finally time.
Sanji really wanted to see the look on her face when he showed her the All Blue.
The life that the orange haired girl was a nightmare.
Forced to work for a master she hated . . . detested by those around her . . . Sanji didn't want to admit it, and he hid behind his affections for her, but he related. He didn't see Arlong's stupid face, he saw him. He didn't see the people of Cocoyashi Village, but the people all over the North Blue that they had terrorized.
When he saw her screaming in the streets, desperately trying to rid herself of the tattoo that man had etched into her skin, Sanji barely kept his composure. This was what his life would have been like if he'd stayed in the North Blue. A puppet for his schemes, just like she was a puppet for those fishmen. He related to her more than she'd ever know. Sanji knew that pain all-too well, and he decided he was going to free her, just like he'd freed himself all those years ago.
Nami-san . . . your prince is here to rescue you, and take you away from all of this . . .