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Chapter Text

He meets her when the Amour Infini docks at yet another island to restock supplies, according to schedule.

Sanji could have long since delegated this duty to the junior cooks and strolled through the unfamiliar city, enjoying the beautiful views and charming women. But he didn’t.

Idleness was killing him. Or rather, it was the thoughts — thoughts that crept into his vacant mind like venomous ants. Only work, from morning until late at night, saved him from the need to think and remember.

Standing by the fruit stall, Sanji watches her helping an elderly woman who dropped her bag. She’s dressed quite unusually for this hot, summery island — a thick, hooded robe covered in numerous ornaments that jingle with every graceful step.

"That's our local sorceress," the vendor sneers, noticing Sanji's intrigued look. "Destiny. They say she fulfills people's most cherished dreams," the man lowers his voice, eyeing Destiny suspiciously as she refuses the old woman’s thanks.

"Is that true?" Sanji leans forward with a smile, unable to take his eyes off the tattoos on her neck and face, exhaling cigarette smoke. She looked mysterious and imposing.

"No one knows," the man shrugs. "But people disappear after meeting her. We don't drive her out of town because she's our healer… and we've got plenty of sick folks," the vendor grimaces and turns away from Destiny. "When asked where those people are, she says she made them happy."

"And who disappears?" Sanji asks, watching Destiny walk away.

"People like you," the man smirks, looking up at him with a sly grin. "Pirates and travelers. By the way, you wouldn’t happen to be-"

"Ah, thank you so much! These peaches are incredibly sweet; the desserts will turn out amazing. Goodbye!" Sanji hurries off, leaving behind a bewildered vendor.

Fame had followed him like a shadow for over twenty years. If he once enjoyed it —the attention from girls and women, the courteous treatment in various establishments, the privileges he received now…

It made him sick. Because usually, after being asked if he was that cook of the Pirate King, the next question would inevitably follow about…

Sanji stops just in time, gently steadying Destiny as she steps out of an alleyway. The girl looks at him with eyes as black as midnight and smiles knowingly:

"Do you regret not saying it?"

Sanji flinches, tensing up as though facing not a fragile girl but a male opponent launching an unexpected attack. He takes a few steps back, gazing at Destiny with confusion and pain, but regains composure and laughs:

"What do you mean, young lady?"

"Your heart aches," Destiny ignores his words, touching her lips with tattooed fingertips. "It yearns. I can help you with that," she extends her small hand toward him. "I can grant your heart its deepest desire."

"What are you…" Sanji nervously snorts, exhaling cigarette smoke from a freshly lit cigarette. "I no longer have dreams. The ones I had are already fulfilled."

"No?" Destiny’s eyes widen, and she lets out a chilling, deep laugh, shaking her shoulders. "You wouldn’t be here if you weren’t nursing a dream, grieving over it during dark nights. You need Him."

Sanji feels his chest tighten with terror, coldness settling in his parched throat. He had never allowed himself to speak of it aloud, never let the crew mention even the name, never let himself get lost in memories… But in this moment, when a complete stranger spoke of Him, Sanji breaks.

Destiny approaches him, cradling his face in her hands and whispering:

"Do you feel guilty? Do you want to fix everything? Do you realize you’d do it all differently if given another chance?" Her hypnotically low, deep voice holds him captive, preventing him from tearing his teary eyes away.

"Yes… Yes. Yes!" he chokes out hoarsely.

"Are you ready to seize that chance?" Destiny’s voice fills with unexpected power, weighing heavily in Sanji’s body. Somewhere at the edge of his consciousness, he thinks this is abnormal and that he should break physical contact as soon as possible. But Destiny holds him firmly, her icy fingers gripping his cheeks.

"Yes…" Sanji exhales.

"So be it," he thinks he sees darkness flooding Destiny’s eyes, spilling rapidly from her irises. He hears her words, echoing at the edge of his mind in a terrifying chorus, and falls into the void. 

"What’s a fly doing in my soup?" he hears a demanding voice.

Sanji blinks several times, quickly orienting himself in the space. It’s Baratie, but not the one he remembered visiting on the anniversary of old man Zeff’s death.

This is the old Baratie, the construction of which he had witnessed firsthand. This Baratie — this is his home, the place where he grew up. This Baratie…

"Are you deaf?! What is this fly doing in my soup?!"

Sanji continues to remain silent, recalling this day. As usual, he had argued with the old man, and Zeff forced him to work as a waiter — a task that felt incredibly humiliating to young Sanji. The day began normally, but then…

Oh, merciful gods, it’s that day!

The table collapses under the pressure of an iron fist… what was his name again? Sanji sneers disdainfully at the spilled soup on the floor — the name of such a worthless person, someone who didn’t understand the value of food, wasn’t worth remembering.

Sanji hears the anxious whispers of the crowd. Fine, he thinks, delivering a swift kick to the idiot’s stomach, which surprisingly proves stronger than expected from this scrawny body. Could this be a hallucination? Surely Destiny couldn’t have sent him back to the past?

"Sanji, again?! What are you doing to the customer?!" Patty’s loud, indignant voice rings out as Sanji crushes the groaning bastard’s wrist under the heel of his shoe (unusually low — he’d grown unaccustomed to such footwear).

"Patty?" Sanji grins, looking at the young and energetic cook of Baratie, who in the future would become head chef of the restaurant after Zeff’s death. "Still as lousy a cook as I remember!"

"How dare a lousy cook call me a lousy cook?!" Patty shouts louder and angrier, continuing his rant. Sanji feels déjà vu. This had happened before — in his distant, sand-covered past, when he was still young and foolish.

"I won’t allow scum like him to insult a cook or ruin food!" Sanji growls, even now — at nearly forty — feeling profound contempt for such people. He doesn’t let the lieutenant crawl away, pressing down on his ankle with more force than expected, snapping it with a loud crack.

Young Sanji was soft toward strange people but harsh toward his friends. Adult Sanji is the opposite.

"What did you do?!" the chefs and Patty shout as they rush out.

But Sanji doesn’t have time to respond, as Zeff and Luffy crash through the ceiling onto the first floor of Baratie. Sanji sighs, gazing tenderly at his small, awkward, and endearing captain — his future captain. In this timeline, Luffy is still nothing to him.

After Luffy and Zeff’s fall, everything unfolds just as it did in the past: the lieutenant’s subordinates arrive to report on a member of Don Krieg’s crew who escaped. Gin appears with the same explosive impact Sanji remembers. It’s almost amusing — to watch events he’s already lived through play out again.

Watching Gin get beaten is unpleasant even now, so Sanji decides to do what he’s always done — feed someone in need. A plate of rice with mushrooms and chicken in cream sauce quietly clinks onto the wooden deck in front of Gin’s bloodied face.

He lights a cigarette thoughtfully, lamenting that they’re too weak to drown out the swarm of thoughts buzzing anxiously in his head. The warm breeze from the calm sea, the smell of food being devoured enthusiastically by Gin, the fabric of his suit resting lightly against his skin — all confirm the reality of what’s happening. Destiny truly sent him back in time so he could fulfill his dream.

What did the forty-seven-year-old cook of the Pirate King’s crew, Sanji, dream of? He dreamed of seeing, even if just for a moment, the person he loved so deeply that his heart had died with him — with Roronoa Zoro.

And Destiny granted him this chance, an opportunity to fix all his mistakes and confess his feelings before it became too late.

Chapter Text

"How lucky you are! If he hadn’t fed you, you’d probably be dead by now!" Sanji hears a young, high-pitched voice ring out, and his heart melts with affection. He wants to leap over to his little captain and squeeze him half to death. But instead, he simply lifts his head with a smile, listening with bated breath to the next words: "Hey, cook, do you want to join my crew? I want you to be the cook on my ship!"

Luffy springs down toward them, perching on the gunwale like a monkey. By this time, Gin has finished eating the rice and is sitting next to Sanji. Luffy tilts his head with a wide grin, looking at Sanji with wide-open eyes:

"So, will you agree to be my cook?"

In the past, Sanji had refused him because he felt he had commitment and a debt to his father and the Baratie. Despite his cherished dream of finding All Blue, repaying Zeff for everything the old man had done for him took priority. And he could only do that at the Baratie, spending his life as a cook in the restaurant.

But now, Sanji doesn’t think that way anymore. He still feels gratitude and sincere respect for his father, but if the old man were to suddenly insist on keeping him here, Sanji would refuse. He wanted to go to sea, wanted to sail with his family — some of whom had yet to enter their lives. 

"A good idea," Sanji exhales cigarette smoke with a soft smile, dreamily squinting his eyes. "But don’t you have a debt to my father after you ended up in our restaurant via cannonball?"

"That was an accident during self-defense," Luffy slumps his shoulders dejectedly, having been in a joyful mood until now because he’d finally found a good cook for his crew.

"Well, no matter," Sanji chuckles softly. "The old man sometimes needs a shake-up. It’s unfortunate it came at the cost of our treasure’s integrity." Sanji looks at his hands, realizing what had been bothering him — the thin fingers bore no rings. "But be careful with him. He’s a former pirate, as are all the other cooks and most of the customers… That’s why we don’t have waiters."

"Ah," Luffy drawls knowingly, rocking slightly. "So that’s why the old man wanted me to work here for a whole year!"

"Sorry to interrupt…" Gin speaks up.

Sanji didn’t interfere in Gin and Luffy’s conversation, peacefully smoking his third cigarette. For the first time in a long while, he felt so light and free. For the first time, his heart didn’t ache in his chest because the one he had been too afraid to give it to was somewhere very close — alive and healthy.

Gin descended into his boat and, standing in it, loudly and cheerfully declared:

"Farewell… And, kid, be careful…" When Luffy responded somewhat cockily, jumping in place, Gin smirked, "Of course, I’m not in a position to stop you. Sanji," the pirate looked at the calmly smiling cook with admiration and devotion, "thank you for the food — it was incredibly delicious. Can I try your cooking again someday?"

"You’ll have to search the seas for me and my crew," Sanji chuckled softly. "I’ll always welcome you."

"Hey, there you are, errand boy!" Zeff shouted from the second floor. From his vantage point, he could clearly see both the empty plate and Gin, who hadn’t yet set sail. Zeff narrowed his eyes threateningly, but Sanji could see the faintest trace of a smile on the old man’s face.

"Set sail, Gin," Sanji said. In response to Gin’s worried muttering about getting into trouble because of him, Sanji kicked the dishes into the sea with the heel of his shoe and smirked mischievously at his father, "Trouble? With what? There’s no evidence!"

Zeff let out a barely audible chuckle and ordered them to get back to work.

Working as a waiter at his age and with his status was undignified, especially since the Amour Infini always had plenty of staff and eager applicants — the restaurant belonged to him, the cook of the Pirate King. But occasionally Sanji would step out into the dining area and serve tables where either acquaintances or dangerous individuals sat.

Being a waiter now, when no one knew him and people saw him as just a pretty-faced boy, was, at the very least, amusing. He delivered orders quickly and without unnecessary grumbling toward the cooks who mocked him. He paid attention to the ladies, complimenting them, and tossed neutral jokes to their partners to lighten the mood.

He enjoyed this — the absence of whispers following him and gazes filled with reverence. Yes, fame had its charm, but being unnoticed, being nobody, turned out to be much easier.

He was pouring wine for a young couple when he heard Luffy’s indignant shouts. Raising his eyes from the glass, Sanji flinched, nearly dropping the bottle. At the tables ahead sat members of his family. Nami, Usopp, and…

Luffy clutched his throat and fell to the floor, rolling around amid the loud laughter of his nakama seated at the table. On unsteady legs, Sanji approached their table, unable to tear his eyes away from Him.

He was very young, just a boy. Slim, short, not yet built up or grown taller. His tanned skin was smooth and unscarred. Both golden eyes were narrowed in irritation but gleamed with amusement — a sight that felt most unfamiliar. He had two eyes. His voice was softer, livelier, and the emotions on his face more genuine, brighter.

Sanji remembered Him differently. Sanji remembered Him tall, broad-shouldered, battle-scarred, stern, and endlessly serious. The Him from his time no longer smiled, constantly frowned, and brushed off offers from the crew to spend time together. The Him from his time was the Strongest, which left a certain mark on his behavior. The Him from his time was indifferent to Sanji, feeling attachment only as a crewmate.

The Him from his time was dead.

But in this time, He was lively, still somewhat childishly naive and self-assured.

In this time, He was alive.

"Hey, guys, by the way, meet him!" Luffy got to his feet, noticing Sanji. Slapping Sanji on the shoulder (in his time, such a blow would make Sanji crouch slightly due to his captain’s strength), Luffy proudly raised his chin: "I’ve found us a cook!"

Nami and Usopp exchanged confused glances, while He frowned in puzzlement and addressed the captain:

"When did you manage to find a cook?" He then gave Sanji an appraising look, his golden eyes scanning from his hair down to his polished shoes.

"My name is Sanji," he rasped, bowing politely toward Usopp and Nami before immediately returning his slightly widened eyes to Him, who had crossed his arms over his chest. "I’m glad to become part of your crew," he smiled gently, as if addressing only Him.

"Shi-shi-shi!" Luffy giggled contentedly. "This is Nami, this is Usopp, and this is…"

"I know," Sanji softly interrupted his little captain, taking a step forward and extending his hand.

He reached out hesitantly, but instead of simply shaking hands, Sanji lightly took hold of the rough palm and brought it to his lips, leaving a weightless kiss on the warm skin.

"Roronoa Zoro. The sea has been merciful to me, allowing me to see you again."

Zoro yanked his hand out of Sanji's weak grip amidst the laughter of his nakama, frowning anxiously. His still-rounded cheekbones darkened with embarrassment, and he snapped angrily:

"What are you doing, you damn cook?!"

"Following the call of my heart," Sanji smiled and turned his head toward the approaching Zeff, "Isn’t that what I’ve always been told to do?"

The old man smirked contentedly.

Chapter Text

"Exactly. You’re no longer needed here. I’m glad you’ve finally realized that," Zeff said, though with a hint of thoughtfulness as he looked at Sanji. "But it’s strange that now…" The old man shifted his gaze to Zoro, who stood further away from Sanji, tense. "Is it because of him? Not even because of the girl?"

Sanji smiled brightly, exhaling cigarette smoke. Events were unfolding slightly differently than he remembered. During their last conversation like this, the old man had said many harsh words that deeply hurt Sanji, who hadn’t wanted to leave Baratie. But now, everything was different. He was ready to set sail with his crew right this moment.

After Zeff’s words, everyone nearby also turned to look at Zoro. Some appraisingly, others with confusion. Roronoa crossed his arms over his chest and frowned in irritation. Sanji suppressed the urge to step forward and smooth out the wrinkles on his forehead. Little smiling Marimo was adorable, and he desperately wanted to savor him for as long as possible.

"Since when are you attracted to men?" Zeff touched one of his whiskers, curiously examining Sanji. "As long as I’ve known you, you’ve always chased skirts just to get a bit of attention from women, and now… You ignored the girl and practically threw yourself at another boy like a doormat."

The boy — who Zeff was referring — to looked ready to either start a fight with Sanji or run straight out of Baratie. But Sanji couldn’t allow either — the first, he wasn’t sure how strong he was now and feared hurting little Marimo; nor the second, he’d spent too little time in the restaurant, Sanji needed more time to fill the obsessive need he felt for him.

"Do you really want to talk about my sexual orientation here and now?" Sanji calmly raised an eyebrow, slightly mocking, where as in his youth, he surely would have exploded with awkwardness and indignation. "Don’t embarrass people, old man. We’ll talk about it later." Zeff chuckled thoughtfully and walked away. They really did need to talk. "My apologies."

Sanji politely bowed to Usopp and Nami sitting at the table, the latter watching him with a sly, appraising look over her cocktail glass. In his youth, he would have gladly laid the world at her feet for just one warm glance from her, but now he saw her only as a dear friend — small and still needing protection.

"It’s fine," Usopp wiped away tears brought on by laughter. "That was just hilarious. I’ve never seen Zoro so flustered!"

"Shut your-" Roronoa snapped his jaws shut with a clicking sound when Sanji approached him and placed a hand on his swords. "What do you want, damn Curly Eyebrow?"

"I’m sorry, I didn’t think it would upset you this much," Sanji sincerely apologized, bitterly realizing that this was the first time he’d ever apologized to Zoro, acknowledging his fault. Up until now, he’d never asked for forgiveness for his actions or words that might have hurt Zoro. "Can I make it up to you somehow?"

"Go away," the young Marimo muttered irritably, turning his head and showing the red edge of his ear. "Just go away, cook."

Sanji smiled painfully. How many times had he heard those words, but never before had they hurt him so deeply. Still, one thing comforted him — Zoro didn’t hate him, despise him, or feel repulsed by him. Little Marimo was scared and embarrassed by the attention from someone of the same gender, which is why he reacted aggressively. For his age, it was normal.

"Alright," Sanji nodded understandingly. "Then I’ll take our captain too since he hasn’t finished working off his debt yet." He grabbed Luffy, who was sitting on the floor and let out an indignant squeak, by the collar of his vest and dragged him off to work.

The rest of the Mugiwara crew watched them leave with lingering gazes.

That evening, after Baratie closed, Sanji knocked on his father’s cabin door with a bottle of wine and two glasses. Zeff was sitting on the bed in regular clothes — a blue shirt and pants — without his chef’s hat, preparing for bed. Seeing Sanji with wine, the old man raised an eyebrow:

"Is this going to be such a serious conversation?"

"It’s just to set the mood," Sanji chuckled softly, settling into the rocking chair after pouring the first glasses. Taking a sip and savoring the sweet-and-bitter taste, Sanji exhaled: "I’d like to start by saying I’m grateful for everything you’ve done for me, dad."

Zeff froze, not even taking a sip. His hand stopped midway, then slowly lowered as he stared wide-eyed at the relaxed Sanji. With a trembling hand, he brought the glass back to his lips and took a large, somewhat jerky sip.

"In my youth, I didn’t understand you — or maybe I just didn’t want to. Your motives seemed illogical, your words harsh and cruel, and your actions pointless and meaningless. But now…" Sanji laughed quietly, unaware of the weary, mature notes in his voice. "Now I realize how foolish and shortsighted I was."

Zeff remained silent, studying Sanji. Setting down his empty glass, he spoke heavily:

"You’re not Sanji."

"Why not?" Sanji smiled gently, tilting his head. "I’m still me, but the filling… The filling has aged, yes. I never thought this would happen, but now I’m actually glad I came back... No questions?" he sighed, disappointed by his father’s reaction.

"Did you find All Blue?" Zeff asked, and from Sanji’s tender, nostalgic smile, he understood — yes, he had found it. Sighing, the old man seemed to deflate slightly and rubbed his face. "When I entered the Grand Line, I told myself never to be surprised by anything. So, your time travel… How old are you?"

"Forty-seven," Sanji set aside his glass and lit a cigarette. "I fulfilled our dream, Dad. All Blue is exactly as we imagined it."

While Zeff laughed happily and in awe, Sanji gazed at him with tenderness and love he hadn’t allowed himself to show in his youth, thinking it was a weakness rather than strength toward a relatives. But with time, he realized it was quite the opposite.

"So, what about that green-haired boy? Who did he become to you?" The topic shift brutally yanked Sanji back down to earth.

"We were nakama, and that’s all…" Sanji replied quietly and bitterly, staring at his fingers. "I was too cowardly to do anything, dad. And one day, it was too late." He gave a pained smirk.

"He died?"

"He was killed," Sanji sighed, feeling his heart tighten as memories surfaced — opening a newspaper on an ordinary day, seeing the headline announcing the death of the Greatest Swordsman. "I couldn’t do anything, but now…"

"Now you want to fix everything?" Zeff snorted and shook his head slightly. "Remember, playing with time is dangerous, son. It’s a basic truth."

"I know, dad," Sanji lit another cigarette, and after some time, when Zeff poured the wine again, chuckled: "You never called me son."

"You never called me dad," the old man replied in the same teasing tone.

"Well, it’s about time we fixed that," Sanji smiled.

Chapter Text

Two days later, just as Sanji remembered, Krieg's galleon approached Baratie.

During this time, he still hadn’t managed to get even a moment alone with Zoro, who was deliberately avoiding his company.

This deeply troubled him, and if it weren’t for their cute little captain keeping him entertained, the time leading up to the confrontation with Krieg’s crew would have dragged on unbearably.

Fortunately, Sanji amused himself by occasionally squeezing Luffy, who was working off his debt and didn’t protest such affectionate advances. Or he simply cooked, sharing recipes with the old man that he had acquired over years of traveling with the Pirate King’s crew and later on his own ship.

After that night when they talked about Sanji’s childhood before and after they met, and how he and his worldview changed after setting sail, his relationship with Zeff had become so peaceful that the absence of serious arguments between them immediately began to worry the cooks at Baratie, who were used to conflicts between the chef and his son.

But Sanji simply had no reason to fight with his father, and vice versa.

Seeing Krieg’s ship, Sanji exhaled cigarette smoke calmly while listening to his young captain’s theories about what might have happened to the galleon.

Over these two days, he also discovered that his current body, though not yet awakened to the legacy of Germa, was still capable of enduring loads beyond its physical limits. However, it suffered more and required more recovery time.

Sanji had no intention of awakening his cursed bloodline on his own — at least not anytime soon, while they weren’t yet facing dangerous and invincible enemies. Perhaps he would do it during their journey to Alabasta… He had many thoughts and ideas about what he could do with his body to protect his younger nakama.

One of the most persistent and aggressive ideas was that he should start training them. If they could master Haki before Kuma sent them on their two-year training, they could defeat their enemies with fewer losses. But Sanji wasn’t yet sure when to start.

Moreover, he couldn’t shake the thought that if he decided to change events from his past life, Time might grow angry and retaliate for interfering with the natural course of things…

So, these two days passed in gloom before the real battle, but with heavy reflection.

The doors of Baratie swung open, and Gin and Krieg appeared on the restaurant’s deck.

Gin’s words, sounding like the most desperate plea, sparked another wave of thoughts in Sanji — now, with the wisdom of his years, he began to think about how scum like Krieg always gathered the most loyal followers.

Sanji could have killed him right then — it wouldn’t have been difficult — but instead, ignoring the taunts of the chefs and patrons mocking the once-formidable pirate now brought low, he retreated to the kitchen to fetch food. Hatred aside, feeding people was his duty — even bastards like Krieg.

Bypassing the rational but sometimes biased Patty, who acted logically but cruelly, Sanji placed a plate of spaghetti in front of Krieg and met the tearful, admiring gaze of Gin with a smile.

"Hey, Sanji, take the food away from him immediately!" someone shouted. "Do you even realize who’s in front of you?"

As Sanji listened to the tirade about Krieg’s atrocities, he wondered why Carne was recounting what they, as East Blue residents, already knew. It was impossible not to hear about Krieg unless one lived in isolation — or was as indifferent to the outside world as his young captain.

"...The world will be better without him!"

Sanji rolled the cigarette in his mouth, imbuing his legs with "armament haki". For a body that hadn’t known how to do this just two days ago, the results were mixed, especially when it came to larger surfaces than just his legs.

Seeing Krieg rise and swing his arm, Sanji took a step back, assuming a comfortable stance and-

-bent his leg, blackened to the knee, and swiftly blocked the blow that once knocked him off his feet and left him breathless.

The air rang with tension, the weight of dust settling on the shoulders of the frozen onlookers. It grew slightly warmer — something he definitely didn’t want to trigger now, considering it was neither the time nor the place.

Exhaling cigarette smoke, Sanji coldly looked up at Krieg (he regretted that Baratie didn’t stock shoes or boots in his size with heels). 

"Scum like you have no place here!" he said quietly but piercingly in the ensuing silence, shoving Krieg back and landing a blow to his liver, with no intention of killing him in front of everyone just yet.

"Sanji-san…" Gin whispered, shocked and unsure how to react to his captain’s actions. "I’m sorry, I didn’t… Don Krieg, we agreed you wouldn’t touch the restaurant when I brought you here!" Gin shouted at his captain.

Sanji grimaced in disgust as the bastard, who deserved a head strike rather than a liver hit, broke Gin’s shoulder, causing him to collapse with a cry beside him, and arrogantly smirked, clutching the spot on his shirt where his armor now bore a deep dent:

"My ship is currently in poor condition. I need a new one. Once you’ve done everything required of you, I’ll toss you out of here…" Krieg’s speech was long and meaningless to Sanji, who felt nothing but irritation at wasting time with this insect compared to the monsters they would face, instead of just killing him.

Turning around, Sanji took a few steps toward the kitchen. Soon enough, the old man would bring a sack of food, but he needed to do something in the meantime. Following actions he’d already taken once before, knowing the consequences of his choices, felt easier. Oh, how lazy he’d become…

He wished he could glance at little Marimo out of the corner of his eye — he thought, all while slowly answering the furious chefs’ questions.

It felt as though all this was happening to impress his young captain… And Sanji didn’t mind — he loved Luffy’s emotions, always honest and straightforward, whether at seventeen or forty-five.

Patty’s chatter inadvertently stirred memories in Sanji of the night they drank together after Zeff’s funeral, leaving the restaurant to his son but entrusting its management to Patty. By then, Patty was still a brash and sharp-tongued bastard, but he had excelled as a chef. Choosing him as Baratie’s head chef had been a good idea.

Blinking absently during Patty’s cannon shot at Krieg, Sanji prepared to fight again — he simply couldn’t allow this bastard, who disregarded the lives of those close to him, to hurt the people who had been his family since childhood. He couldn’t deflect bullets without using fire, but he could always damage Krieg’s “indestructible” armor again.

Surprisingly, no one noticed that Sanji had managed to do just that…

"Sorry, Gin," Sanji softly exhaled, lightly touching the trembling pirate’s shoulder (he genuinely felt sorry for him).

"Sanji-san?" Gin sighed. "For what?"

"For this," Sanji said shortly before delivering a powerful, swift kick with his shoe — already smoking from restrained flames — breaking through Krieg’s armor and sending him flying into the water.

"Sanji, wow! How did you do that?!" Luffy exclaimed excitedly.

Sanji smiled modestly at his captain, bouncing like a little monkey in his seat, and looked at his father, who approached with a sack of food, giving him a stern, warning glance.

"I couldn’t help myself," Sanji lit a cigarette. "Besides, the consequences would have been more damaging for all of us."

"And the consequences of your current actions? He’ll return angrier, you understand that?" Zeff frowned and turned to Gin: "Take the sack. There’s food for exactly the number of people your captain mentioned."

Watching Gin hurry away, surely planning to first pull his dumb captain out of the water and only then deliver the food to his nakama, Sanji silently listened to his father and Patty’s conversation while scanning the room for his crew.

Spotting them at a distant table, he immediately brightened upon seeing little Marimo — it was like receiving a concentrated dose of love straight to his heart.

"Luffy," Sanji caught his young captain’s attention. "Sorry it turned out this way. Krieg is your opponent — I just couldn’t let him hurt these fools."

"It’s all good!" Luffy grinned widely. "You were incredibly cool when you hit him! Right, guys?" he asked the other boys.

"Yeah, it was epic — the way you moved. By the way, what did you do to your leg? It seemed like it was smoking," Usopp noted, and Sanji inwardly cursed his observational skills, shared in their crew only by Robin-chan and Jimbei.

"Smoking?" Sanji raised an eyebrow in surprise. "Maybe you mistook it for cigarette smoke? Hmm, I haven’t noticed that before…" He glanced down, inspecting his legs. His pants were slightly singed. What bad luck, he thought. Usopp got lost trying to figure out what he’d seen, while Sanji looked at little Marimo. "What about you?"

"Unexpected for a weak and pampered cook like you," Zoro crossed his arms over his chest, appraising Sanji once again. There was no warmth in his gaze — so desired — but there was interest. Quiet, fragile, it flickered deep within his pupils, and realizing this brought joy.

"You can test how pampered I am sometime," Sanji teased, rolling the cigarette in his mouth. "I’m always up for a fight with a worthy opponent."

But little Marimo certainly wasn’t a match for him now. And he likely wouldn’t be anytime soon — it had taken Sanji decades to reach his current level of strength. But now, when they started clashing, it would serve as practice for him to keep his in check, preventing it from harming his friends. 

They talked a bit longer about how Luffy was handling things at the restaurant, and Sanji even praised him a little — this hyperactive kid just needed appropriate responsibilities. When the conversation turned to Zoro, Sanji allowed himself to drop subtle flirtatious remarks, which made Marimo frown and Usopp shoot suspicious glances.

But then, the moment came when Krieg’s reinforced pirates decided to board Baratie, and when he appeared — Dracule Mihawk, the person who became Sanji’s closest confidant after Zoro’s death.

Chapter Text

The sky above the village of Shimotsuki was disgustingly clear and cloudless. The world blossomed with the most beautiful flowers, their fragrant scent gently caressing the senses. The world rejoiced at the arrival of spring, the rebirth of nature, and the emergence of life.

Sanji mourned its loss.

Though, by now, he no longer had the strength to cry. Besides, he had to be strong for his nakama — it wasn’t just him who had lost someone dear. But Sanji understood that for him, His death wasn’t just a tragedy or cause for sorrow; it meant the disappearance of reasons to keep living.

Sanji flinches when he hears his name called.

Nami-san looked gaunt and pale, nervously wringing the fabric of her black kimono with thin fingers as she hesitantly stood at the doorway. The room where He had lived for the past few years was unbearable for Sanji to be in — everything: the layout, the small items significant to the owner of the room, even the smell — it all drove him mad.

But he couldn’t bring himself to stand up.

"Sanji-kun, we need to go," Nami rasped, touching her neck with her hand, where — for a brief moment — a wedding ring glinted. "Everyone is waiting for you. Luffy said he won’t allow the ceremony to begin without you. But I can tell him that you…"

"No," Sanji rose from the floor on slightly trembling legs. "It’s alright, Nami-san," he approached the navigator, kissed the air above her free hand, and immediately withdrew, not even attempting to force a polite smile. "Thank you for your support."

"I never thought I’d say this, but I miss your stupid happy face," Nami chuckled bitterly as they exited the room and headed toward the temple where the farewell ceremony before the coffin was sent to the crematorium would take place.

"My happiness died with Him," Sanji rasped some time later, casting an empty gaze at Nami, who flinched slightly, and then approached his nakama standing by the coffin. All the other people — their numerous friends, relatives, children, and simply those touched by the tragedy — stood a little further away. From the crowd came quiet sobs and bitter sighs.

"Sanji-kun," an attentive, compassionate look came from the gray-haired elder, Koushirou Shimotsuki. Sanji averted his gaze, hiding his cold hands in his trouser pockets, and tried hard not to look at the coffin or the body inside it. "Well," the old man sighed softly, "Luffy-kun, may we begin the ritual?"

The Pirate King, from the height of his two-meter stature, heavily scanned the crowd gathered in the small village temple for any suspicious individuals (after all, the likelihood of some bastard appearing at the ceremony who somehow held a grudge against Zoro was quite high), and gave a curt nod.

Elders, adult men, women, and even children — no one remained indifferent. Everyone shed tears, no matter how tough, courageous, or strong they were. Because this loss was not only unexpected and a terrible tragedy for a few, but also for many others who had been inspired by the swordsman’s fate from the village of Shimotsuki.

"Close relatives may bid farewell to the deceased before the coffin is sealed," the monk conducting the ceremony calmly and confidently announced immediately after finishing his final words.

First, Koushirou Shimotsuki and Dracule Mihawk approached the coffin, having arrived on the island together with Perona, who now stood next to the wives of Sanji's nakama, as His teachers and mentors.

After them, Luffy approached the coffin, lingering significantly longer than His teachers, followed by all the members of the crew, quietly and briefly uttering phrases drowned out by the general noise of the temple. When Yamato, their latest nakama, straightened up after bowing, nearly grazing the ceiling with his horns, it was Sanji’s turn, having let everyone else go ahead of him.

He walked toward the coffin as if treading on the edge of a knife. Stopping and lowering a heavy, empty gaze, Sanji’s reddened eyes slid over the snowy-white cloth covering His body. Sanji swallowed, feeling his heart — already stopped, but utterly destroyed — crumble even more when he noticed the sharp tips of green hair.

Sanji’s legs buckled, but he didn’t let himself fall, gripping the coffin with his fingers. He leaned forward, masochistically tracing the calm features of the face visible up close. Sanji choked, tears welling up in his eyes against his will as he hoarsely whispered:

"Zoro, Zoro…" he repeated in madness. "Zoro, when did I ever call you by your name? It feels like never… I’m so sorry I was too cowardly. Maybe everything would have been different? Did you know I loved you?" he bitterly smirked. "I loved you so much, Zoro… My happiness died with you, my last love. Sleep peacefully, and please, wait for me wherever you are."

After speaking these words, he stepped away, realizing he wouldn’t be able to watch the cremation — he still couldn’t believe that his dumb Marimo, his eternal rival, his beloved person was truly gone. And seeing His body burn in flames as proof of the end of life… It was unbearable.

He was already smoking his sixth cigarette when he heard a heavy, confident step behind him.

Turning around, reacting to the person who had stopped, starting a conversation — all of this required strength he simply didn’t have. With an empty gaze, Sanji stared at the quiet surface of the pond in the garden of Koushirou Shimotsuki’s house, where their entire crew had stayed.

"Do you mind?" Sanji heard, and the last person he expected to see sat down beside him. Perhaps even he found the atmosphere and the grief-stricken faces of familiar people burdensome.

"No," Sanji thoughtfully and with a dull hatred stared at his slightly trembling hand and clenched it tightly. "What’s it like being the strongest again?" Sanji asked ironically, glancing distantly at Mihawk.

"At my age, it’s rather problematic," the swordsman replied melancholically, in turn gazing at the water's surface of the pond. "I’ve long since stepped away from Cross Guild affairs, abandoned pirate ideals, and now focus on what brings me more pleasure than clashing with Marines."

"And what is that?" Sanji opened a pack of cigarettes and, with disappointment, realized it was empty. "What does Dracule Mihawk enjoy doing?" he mockingly raised an eyebrow.

"Gardening," the man responded, stunning him, and continued as if nothing unusual had been said, ignoring the shock on Sanji’s face: "On a charming island under Cross Guild control, I have a small garden."

"That sounds so strange," Sanji honestly shared his feelings, and after a short silence, when the swordsman merely shrugged indifferently, he asked, "What exactly do you grow?"

They spoke for a while longer, discussing the benefits of various vegetables and fruits. As twilight descended upon Shimotsuki, heralding a starry night, Dracule offered Sanji to come inside the house, where a somber silence reigned.

"Care for a drink? Let’s share a cup of sake," the swordsman quietly suggested, stopping by his room. "In memory of him."

"Will you tell me about how He lived with you and Perona for those two years?" Sanji asked, knowing that any mention of Him caused pain in his bleeding heart, yet lacking both the strength and desire to stop — not just talking about Him, but thinking about Him altogether. "He never told us."

"Of course," Mihawk nodded, closing the shoji. His room was dimly lit, softened by the glow of the rising young moon.

Thus, Dracule Mihawk became the only person with whom conversations about Him evoked not pain, but love and longing for the young man preserved in the memory of the greatest swordsman — a young man Sanji would never see again.

Or so he thought.

Chapter Text

Sanji gazes with a quiet smile at Mihawk’s boat and at the man himself, as memories of their time together — accumulated over the two years since Zoro’s death — flood his mind. Alongside these thoughts comes one he has been deliberately pushing away this entire time.

What happened to his timeline? Did he simply vanish while the world continued to exist?

If so, what would happen to his crew and restaurant when they discovered his disappearance? He hadn’t left the Amour Infini to anyone, believing he’d live to old age and only then take on a promising apprentice.

And then there was Mihawk… Sanji had grown fond of the sometimes grumpy but deeply knowledgeable old man, whose conversations were an absolute pleasure.

Not leaving him even a note, Sanji now felt like a complete bastard and egoist for abandoning everyone close to him, trading his restaurant, his settled life, and his success for — what?

Sanji glanced at Zoro, who had leapt to Mihawk and tied his bandana around his head.

The determined, focused young Marimo, standing firm in his ideals, looked like a small tiger cub trying to grab hold of the slippery tail of a mature, battle-hardened tiger. Despite the imposing opponent before him, the cub refused to back down.

Sanji exhaled cigarette smoke and gazed at the small clouds drifting majestically across the sky.

Yes, let him be selfish.

Let him be the worst kind of scum for leaving his nakama and his restaurant — it didn’t matter to him anymore. Nothing, not even Mihawk's company, which reminded him so much of Zoro and gave him a false sense of Marimo's presence — brought Sanji joy after Zoro’s death. Neither cooking nor running the Amour Infini could fill the void. If he found himself once again at the moment of meeting Destiny, he would still say "Yes" to her.

Roronoa Zoro had become everything to Sanji. And now, that everything was stubbornly crashing against the swords of his future teacher.

As painful as it was for Sanji to watch Marimo’s injuries (his heart clenched in horror when Mihawk shoved Zoro with his toothpick), he simply wasn’t allowed to interfere.

This battle, this defeat, this acknowledgment by Mihawk — all of it had to happen for Zoro to grow, to realize that the world, especially the Grand Line, wasn’t as simple or friendly as he might have thought.

Sanji couldn’t bear to witness the decisive blow, no matter how hard he forced himself to stay put, digging his nails painfully into his palms.

As soon as the shards of Zoro’s swords clattered onto the broken deck of Krieg’s ship and Zoro staggered, beginning to fall into the water, Sanji shoved past the cooks in front of him. Ignoring his father’s warning shout, he dove into the water.

Johnny and Yosaku were closer, but Sanji was faster — much faster.

Squinting, he located Zoro, whose blood was turning the surrounding water an alarming red, and gently wrapping his arms around Zoro’s waist, swam to the surface. Carefully, he placed Marimo into the boat of his former colleagues.

“Oh, Marimo, you’re going to make me go gray before I planned to,” Sanji nervously chuckled under his breath, tearing the fabric of Zoro’s shirt and removing the haramaki over his head.

The blood made the wound look worse than it was, and the saltwater surely added to his discomfort.

Raising a cold gaze to the frantic Johnny and Yosaku bustling nearby, Sanji quietly and threateningly said, “Be quiet. Thank you,” nodding as he accepted the first aid kit from a nearly sobbing Usopp.

A fleeting thought crossed his mind: he much preferred the adult Usopp, who had become far more confident than the current timid boy. But personal growth and Usopp becoming a god with thousands of loyal fans was also a slow process.

Shaking his head, Sanji returned his focus to Marimo.

Uncorking a bottle of water handed to him with an insistent glance, Sanji began cleaning the wound, dabbing at the bleeding scar with cotton found in the first aid kit. Aside from cotton and bandages, there wasn’t much else in there.

Meanwhile, he listened to Mihawk’s inspiring speech — a speech just as significant to Zoro in this timeline as it had been in his own. Regardless of time, Dracule Mihawk remained Zoro’s greatest inspiration and ultimate goal.

“Sanji, is Zoro okay?!” Luffy shouted from beside Mihawk.

“He will be, just give me some time!” Sanji froze when Zoro raised Wado Ichimonji and placed his other hand on his forehead. Sanji’s heart ached; he wanted to take all of little Marimo’s pain away and let him live an easy, carefree life — but then that wouldn’t be Zoro. Not his Zoro.

“L-Luffy, can you hear me?” Zoro rasped hoarsely, whistling through his words. After receiving a response, he continued, “Were you worried? If I can’t become the greatest swordsman… you’ll be disappointed, right?! Cough!” He coughed up blood, and Sanji placed a hand on his shoulder, realizing he shouldn’t continue the “operation” just yet — Zoro still had a vow to make. “Never!” Zoro cried, tears streaming down his face. “I’ll never lose again! From this day forward, until the moment I defeat him and become the greatest swordsman… I’ll never lose again!”

And indeed, that’s exactly how it would turn out (or rather, how it had turned out for Sanji).There wasn’t a single battle Zoro lost on his path to becoming the greatest.

After achieving the title of Strongest some time after they reached Laugh Tale and Luffy was declared Pirate King, Zoro fulfilled the vow he had given to his captain. In this timeline, it would be correct to say he will fulfill it.

“You did good work, Marimo-kun, and now let me take care of you,” Sanji smiled tenderly at Zoro, who gave him one last conscious glance before slumping unconscious, his eyes closing. Sanji spoke firmly as he sanitized his hands with sake: “I need a source of fire, a needle, and fishing line. Now.”

“What are you planning to do, Sanji?” Usopp asked, bewildered and frightened, watching as the cook rolled up his sleeves and accepted a burner, a small slanted needle, and fishing line from Johnny, who had rushed out of the cabin. “You’re not seriously going to sew him up, are you?!” the boy exclaimed in horrified realization.

“Unless there’s a qualified doctor hiding among you?” Sanji snapped irritably, more aggressively than the situation required, as he heated the needle in the flame. “I don’t see anyone rushing to save Marimo. So shut up and don’t get in my way.”

There was no hydrogen peroxide, and using alcohol on the wound was out of the question, so Sanji hoped water would suffice.

Cooling the needle, he mentally marked where he would make the stitches. The most important thing was not to damage the skin further or hit major blood vessels.

Little Marimo was already suffering — he let out heavy, labored breaths and winced in pain.

After threading the fishing line through the needle, Sanji leaned down and held a piece of cloth to Zoro’s mouth.

“Zoro, listen to me. You need to bite down on this piece of cloth and try not to move too much, okay?” Sanji whispered softly, smiling faintly at Marimo, whose eyes had barely opened. “It won’t take long, I promise.” Sanji gently stroked Zoro’s feverish face with his fingertips after placing the cloth in his mouth. “Good boy.”

Taking a quiet breath, Sanji pierced Zoro’s skin with the needle, making the first stitch.

Zoro groaned loudly, clenching the cloth between his teeth and squeezing his tear-filled eyes shut.

Murmuring soothing nonsense under his breath, Sanji worked quickly but carefully, doing his best to keep the stitches evenly spaced and not pull them too tight.

Everything had to be perfect.

The noise around him faded; all Sanji saw was Zoro.

Finishing the “operation” by tying off the knot, Sanji bandaged Marimo and set aside his tools, rubbing his tired face.

Removing the soaked cloth from Zoro’s mouth — he was unconscious but breathing steadily — Sanji smiled and gently touched little Marimo’s hair before addressing Usopp, Johnny, and Yosaku, who were silently staring at him:

“Since your first aid kit has nothing worthwhile, clean the wound with boiled water tomorrow morning. Do not use alcohol, understood?” he sternly warned them before standing up. “Don’t let him move around too much, and make sure he drinks plenty of water. He lost a lot of blood.”

“Understood, brother!” Waving off their thanks, Sanji nimbly made his way across the floating wreckage of the ship to the fins of Baratie, where… what was his name again?

“You’re not just lousy cooks — you’re also terrible fighters,” Sanji lit a cigarette, standing next to Patty and handing him the chef’s knife he had knocked from one of Krieg’s lackeys with a swift kick, sending the man tumbling into the water. “Now, finally, I’ll stretch my legs!”

Chapter Text

Assessing the real capabilities of his current scrawny body, Sanji understood that using most truly impressive techniques would result in losing limbs and damaging organs.

Reflecting on this, Sanji lamented that he had been quite a weak boy in his youth.

But in any case, he was stronger than all the riffraff gathered here and even Krieg, because in one day Sanji had done what it seemed none of their opponents in East Blue could do — awakened Haki.

Yes, his Observation Haki might still be very weak and laughable compared to the Haki he left behind in his time, but his Armament Haki…

Without undue arrogance, Sanji could say that in East Blue, with his knowledge, his abilities not yet fully awakened but in progress (considering his physical preparation), and his experience, there was no equal for him — and consequently for his crew. Arlong would be destroyed.

What to say about this idiot Krieg, who fancied himself the future Pirate King? 

After all, the real King was now preparing to fight him.

It was very hard not to look at Luffy with affection — compared to the captain Sanji saw last, whose sharp gaze could destroy islands, the current one resembled a nimble, tiny monkey, diligently trying to bite the opponent's thumb.

Well, alright.

Against their current (and some subsequent) opponents, this would work. But it was still worth addressing the little captain and his fighting style of "courageous monkey bites," teaching him something useful.

"Haha, you took them down with just kicks! You're quite agile. Is this your fighting style?" the mockery came from this farce when Sanji pierced the chest of one of Krieg’s henchmen with the heel of his shoe, rupturing his internal organs.

Sanji needed to blow off some steam — he was clearly overwrought after sewing up little Marimo.

It was obvious that now any injury to Zoro would be catastrophic, deeply troubling, and painful for him.

And the mere thought of how he was going to endure their encounter with Kuma sent shivers of horror through him. Sanji must prevent that episode.

"A cook's hands are his life. I can't risk it. Besides, one leg is enough for me to kill trash like you," Sanji exhaled cigarette smoke, flicking blood off his shoe.

His body buzzed with the pleasant feeling of combat tension, but it wasn’t enough. All these insects with broken bones in front of him were too few to satisfy him. But he didn’t plan to touch Krieg — he had promised the captain.

"Do you think you can defeat me?" laughed… what was his name again? Ah, yes. Pearl. He continued to boast about how magnificent he was. The mention of his beauty made Sanji raise an eyebrow in disbelief. Did he consider himself handsome? It was simply ridiculous.

Realizing his bisexuality during those hellish two years in Kamabakka, which he now recalled only with a warm smile, Sanji began to view men differently, assessing them not as rivals for female attention or adversaries, but as potential partners. And, well, by the age of forty-seven, Sanji considered himself a true connoisseur, having met a vast number of genuinely attractive men.

And this bastard before him was not one of them.

Offended, Sanji decided to deal with him without playing games, as this piece of third-rate garbage unworthy of even a mangy dog's appetite didn’t deserve his leniency as an opponent.

Infusing his right leg with Armament Haki, Sanji shoved his hands into his pockets, lightly jumped, and forcefully brought his foot down on Pearl’s head, piercing his funny hat and skull with a wet squelching sound.

Pearl collapsed onto Baratie’s fin without moving. Blood slowly began to spread around his head. The surrounding pirates of Krieg and the restaurant cooks screamed in unison — they were horrified by what he had done to one of the strongest fighters.

Sanji blinked, taking a deep drag on his cigarette, and thoughtfully looked at the sky. Oh, this will apparently become his favorite pastime, he thought with a smile.

Taking a smooth step forward, Sanji gently caught the little captain, thrown by Krieg, in his arms. He smiled tenderly at the bewildered young man:

"Not scared?"

"Ah, honestly, I was a bit scared," giggled Luffy, squinting from the cigarette smoke. Looking at the fallen Pearl nearby, Luffy gazed at Sanji in surprise and admiration, wriggling in his arms but seemingly not planning to get down: "Did you already beat him?!"

"Hmm, sorry, did you want a show?" sighed Sanji disappointedly, rolling the cigarette in his mouth so the smoke wouldn’t bother Luffy. "Next time I'll try to stretch the pleasure if you want."

"No, it's fine," shrugged the little captain. "Fight them however you like. But it's really cool that you already beat him!" exclaimed Luffy enthusiastically, grinning widely.

"You'll be even cooler when you beat this bastard," chuckled Sanji softly, ignoring his father's questioning glance and the urge to bite Luffy's cheek. "Should I throw you to him now, or will you go yourself?"

"I'll go myself!" Luffy giggled and jumped out of Sanji's arms to return to Krieg.

Sanji smiled and flinched the next moment upon hearing a faint cry from his father.

Turning around, he saw Gin pointing his gun at Zeff, lying on the deck of Baratie. He had forgotten about that... Remembering so many unnecessary details related to this moment, he had forgotten the most important thing.

"Stay where you are, Sanji," Gin addressed him. "I don't care that he was once a legend. Now he's just a cook, and I have no problem splattering his brains across the deck like you did with Pearl."

Sanji looked at his father.

The old man didn’t look humiliated, but he was clearly uncomfortable in this position. What had the young Sanji felt at that moment?

He was angry, but not at Gin, rather at Zeff for allowing a pirate to do such a thing.

He was scared because, no matter what he said or how he acted, he was truly loved to the old man, and the mere thought of his death frightened him even later. And even now.

But what did he feel at this moment?

Fury.

Having just regained his father, who had passed away in his own time (which was incredible for a pirate) but too early in Sanji’s opinion, he wasn’t about to experience that loss again. Especially not so soon.

He planned to introduce Marimo to him as his fiancé, make him cook at their wedding, and then make him babysit their kids.

The young Sanji was merciful to enemies but cruel to family. The forty-seven-year-old Sanji didn’t suffer from unnecessary sentimentality towards strangers.

Leaping into the air, Sanji extended his leg and delivered a swift (even without training, his speed was much higher than it was back then), powerful, and fairly unexpected blow to Gin’s chest for everyone present.

After all, no one expected that Sanji, under a real threat to Zeff’s life, would decide to put him in even greater danger.

Gin cried out and fell onto Baratie’s deck, and Krieg’s pirates whispered in horror, calling him a monster — after all, both Gin and Pearl were among the strongest pirates in their crew. But to Sanji, they were all — even their captain — trash.

Those who threatened his family and home would die.

"In the past, you survived," Sanji pressed his shoe against Gin's throat, darkly glaring down at him. "I was too merciful and kind to you and people like you. But in this life? I won’t let anyone hurt those dear to me," Armament Haki made his leg heavier, and with a sharp movement of his foot, Sanji broke Gin’s neck.

"Sanji," Zeff frowned at him, standing thanks to support from the doorframe. "You’ve changed," the old man lowered his gaze to Gin’s wide-open eyes, whose life Sanji himself had saved two days ago. He had also taken it away. "In your youth, you weren’t so cruel."

"Are you disappointed?" Sanji sharply looked at his father, his eyes not those of a nineteen-year-old boy without life experience, but of a forty-seven-year-old weary and hardened member of the Pirate King's crew.

"No," Zeff shook his head, leaning on his approaching son's shoulder. "As long as you can empathize with worthy strangers and maintain healthy attachments, everything is fine."

"Why such criteria?" Sanji thoughtfully looked at the old man, supporting him and preventing him from falling. The battle noise didn’t subside; the bloody Luffy (Krieg, that bastard, how dare he hurt his little captain?!) dealt numerous blows to Krieg.

"We can be cruel and merciless, but as long as we can feel others’ suffering, we remain humans and don’t turn into psychopaths," the old man chuckled. "You pitied him when he needed help. Unfortunately, his loyalty turned out to be greater than his gratitude," Zeff shook his head. "And regarding attachments... Social bonds also make us human, not animals."

"I didn’t know you were so smart," Sanji smirked mockingly. "I thought you were somewhere between an elderly hobo and a st- Oi!" Sanji bent over when a strong kick to his lower back hit him, more surprising than painful. "Old man!"

"Who are you to talk, little eggplant," rolled his eyes Zeff, quietly smiling.

Sanji laughed heartily, then noticed what was happening with Luffy.

Seeing that upon mentioning MH5, Krieg’s pirates started bustling and putting on masks, Sanji left his father and quickly confiscated masks from the nearest weaklings, tossing them into the water. Handing the first one to Zeff, Sanji put on the second. He also spotted Luffy — he managed to get one too. And he didn’t need to worry about anything else.

As soon as the poisonous smoke cleared, Sanji continued to observe Luffy's fierce battle with Krieg.

The little captain hopped around the “arena” like a monkey, delivering punches and dodging (sometimes unsuccessfully) enemy attacks. He bled more and more, and Sanji felt an increasing urge to intervene with each passing minute. It seemed that with his time travel, he had become hyper-protective of his family.

And that could become a problem. The more serious their opponents, the more anxious he would be for his nakama. He was sure that with Marimo, this anxiety would be even stronger.

Watching the battle, Sanji smoked four cigarettes and was halfway through the fifth when Krieg trapped Luffy in a net, and he fell into the water. Sanji rushed after him. Surfacing, Sanji gently gazed at the unconscious Luffy and smiled.

Oh, how he missed the little captain, whom he could embrace like a tame sun.

Laying Luffy on Baratie’s fin and gently brushing wet strands of hair from his face, Sanji glanced at Krieg, who was trying to stand up.

If there was one thing this bastard wasn’t lacking, it was stubbornness.

Finishing him off, staggering but still attempting to return to the fight, took only a few seconds. One smooth kick, and Don Krieg was dead.

Sanji thoughtfully looked at him, ignoring the commotion of the relieved cooks celebrating the end of the long battle. In the past, they had all survived — Pearl, Gin, and Krieg — but in this timeline, he had killed them.

Would this come back to haunt him somehow? Would Time punish him for such actions, as they were not the last he intended to take?

Sanji didn’t know. But he was yet to find out.

Well, for now, Arlong awaited them.

Chapter Text

The farewell with his father and Baratie turned into a small, warm, and family-like cozy evening, which, in essence, was only necessary for Sanji to spend a little more time with the old man before their long separation.

The next day, just before Sanji leaped onto the boat where Luffy and Yosaku, who had arrived to share recent news about their crew, were waiting for him, Zeff quietly asked him to turn around.

"In the past, you never managed to find happiness," the old man looked at him with an indescribable pensiveness, shadows settling into his wrinkles. "But now, I hope, you’ll finally catch up with your happiness. I’d be happy to see you with that rude green-haired boy, my little eggplant."

"That’s…" Sanji froze in confusion, and then, a moment later, softly laughed: "Is this your way of blessing us? Thank you, Dad," Sanji leaned forward and, pulling his father into a tight embrace, whispered one last time: "I love you, old man."

And before the embarrassed Zeff could do anything, Sanji, chuckling, jumped off the deck of Baratie, landing easily on their boat. Luffy loudly and enthusiastically said goodbye, perched on the beam at the bow of their ship, waving both hands like a little child to the cooks of Baratie.

That’s how they bid farewell to the restaurant.

Sanji didn’t participate in the conversation between Yosaku and the captain, silently admiring the breathtakingly beautiful skies in their gentle calmness. Only occasionally, when Luffy nudged him and excitedly exclaimed something like "Did you know?!", he nodded or grunted affirmatively, patting the little captain, who eagerly leaned into his touch, on the head.

As soon as Yosaku mentioned Jimbei, a wave of longing for the nakama left behind in his timeline washed over Sanji.

Here, they still had to gather the legendary crew of the Pirate King, but there… There, they had long been a family. A big, friendly, and incredibly influential one — each of them was damn strong and powerful.

But now, that wasn’t the case yet… Not to mention, their crew didn’t even have sweet Robin-chan yet.

And when they first meet her, they’ll be enemies…

With a melancholic sigh, Sanji suggested having lunch and, after hearing everyone’s preferences, went to the kitchen.

Small and lacking the conveniences he was used to, it was still a magnificent place to cook.

By forty-seven, Sanji had become, without undue arrogance, a God of culinary arts.

He prepared dishes that, upon tasting, could cure various ailments, correct skin imperfections, and improve the health of hair, nails, and eyelashes.

And unlike his physical abilities, his culinary skills hadn’t deteriorated. After all, everything needed to preserve them — experience, knowledge, and professional expertise — remained intact.

It was just a pity that he didn’t have access to the spices and seasonings he had gathered during his travels, but that wasn’t a big problem either; he’d simply start collecting them again.

Dancing lightly in place, Sanji brought the dishes out onto the deck. Seeing him with plates, Luffy joyfully jumped up and clapped his hands, impatiently sitting down at the table prepared in advance.

"It smells absolutely divine!" Luffy exclaimed, inhaling the aroma of roasted meat through flared nostrils. Taking the first bite, Luffy shuddered and blissfully closed his eyes, placing a hand on his cheek and rocking back and forth in his seat.

Watching him and seeing how Yosaku, who had also started eating, shed a few tears, Sanji chuckled softly.

He was immensely flattered by such sincere reactions to his cooking. And even after thousands people had visited his restaurant and tasted his dishes, this sense of pride from others’ satisfaction filled him as if for the first time.

"Sanji, you’re so cool!" Luffy shouted loudly, overcome with emotion, jumping up and almost overturning the table. "I’m so glad you became my cook; I won’t give you to anyone!" Luffy said with a mouth full of food.

"No one else is needed," Sanji smiled tenderly, resting his cheek on his palm and exhaling cigarette smoke.

Involuntarily flinching when a huge whale-like cow appeared before them (he had completely forgotten about it), Sanji silently watched as Luffy beat up the poor animal that had come for the smell of roasted meat (did cows eat meat? Was that even allowed?) and decided to prey on Monkey D.’s food.

"Luffy, don’t kill her! I have an idea of how we can use her," Sanji stood up, looking closely at the cow, who was certainly already regretting its decision and gazing at him hopefully from its towering height.

"You’ll cook her?" Luffy asked excitedly, making the cow tremble with fear, while Sanji sighed with a smile. Whatever anyone else thought about, the captain — at any age — thought about food.

"No, there’s nowhere to store the meat," Sanji shook his head regretfully. "But when we get Going Merry and Nami-san back, I’ll catch you some Sea King and prepare it, deal?" Sanji smiled, ruffling Luffy’s hair. The boy nodded rapidly. "Well, as for my plan…"

Yes, he suggested using the cow as transportation to reach the island faster.

Yes, he forgot that their landing wouldn’t be as smooth and safe.

So many life-threatening adventures had happened in his life; remembering something like that was simply impossible!

But what he forgot was that this cursed little boat would encounter Zoro…

A deafening crash of the boat, Yosaku’s scream, Luffy’s laughter, the sound of breaking trees — and they found themselves on land.

Jumping off the wreckage of the boat, Sanji anxiously glanced at little Marimo. He looked surprisingly lively, but Sanji knew — he knew — that he hadn’t recovered at all.

"What the hell are you guys doing?!" Zoro shouted, clutching his bloody head. "What do you want, Curly Eyebrow?" the boy tensed as Sanji crouched beside him.

"Let me take a look at your wound. I’d like to check the one on your chest too, but now isn’t the time," Sanji impatiently sighed.

He needed to see if Marimo had seriously injured his head. He really didn’t want to feel guilty about this too.

"And where are Usopp and Johnny?" Luffy tilted his head thoughtfully.

"Usopp! That’s right!" Zoro waved off Sanji’s hand reaching for the back of his head and jumped up. "No time for extra fuss! Usopp is with Arlong, if I delay…"

"Usopp is dead! You’re too late!" Johnny approached them, tears streaming down his face. "Brother Usopp was killed by sister Nami!"

An uneasy, heavy silence fell.

No one could believe that Nami was capable of such a thing.

Sanji lit a cigarette, standing next to Zoro, and looked up at the sky. The sky above this island, soaked in the blood of innocent people, was surprisingly clear and cloudless.

He wasn’t worried — he knew that everything was fine with Usopp.

And always would be.

Phenomenon, miracle, divine providence — but that was their fate.

For them, everything became clear some time after visiting Laugh Tale, when they learned that Usopp, no joke, was a God.

His words, even spoken in jest, came true; he could bless people, and prayers to him helped them. It was strange at first, but then they all got used to it. After all, the Pirate King’s crew had all sorts of quirky characters.

So, Sanji was sure — nothing had happened to God Usopp, and nothing would.

"But if you don’t want to believe it, then so be it! But I saw it with my own eyes!" Luffy shouted back at Johnny. "Nami…" the little captain muttered in confusion when Nami appeared before them.

"Who’s your nakama, Luffy?" she asked coldly, with a hint of contempt, crossing her arms over her chest.

Nami reminded Sanji of a small street tabby kitten desperately trying to defend itself and doing it the only way it knew how — by hurting those who loved it.

Sanji knew Nami's whole story, knew her for many years as a strong-willed, confident, proud, and sometimes quite stubborn girl who was shy about showing affection to loved ones. Nami was amazing, but now — she still had to become that person.

She had to break down to be reborn anew. His brave little friend.

"Nakama, you say? Don’t make me laugh. You're just a bunch of pathetic losers!" she spat out with disgust.

"I told you! This woman is a witch!" Johnny pointed at Nami. "For the treasures hidden in the village… she joined Arlong’s crew, not hesitating to commit murder!"

Sanji missed the rest of the dialogue between Johnny and Nami — it was painful for him to hear such words from his beloved Nami-san again.

Involuntarily, he remembered visiting Nami, Vivi, and their daughter on the occasion of the latter’s birthday shortly before his disappearance. The charming Princess Mimi celebrated a birthday — fifteen years. All of Alabasta was in an alcoholic haze for several days because of this significant date for the kingdom. He was the head chef in the kitchen, delighting his lovely ladies with the most delicious dishes throughout the festivities…

But now, that was still very far away.

"No, Marimo, don’t," Sanji gently pressed on Zoro’s shoulder, keeping him in place, and calmly smiled when the boy couldn’t even take a step and bared his teeth aggressively. What a kitten. "Obviously, Nami-san is lying."

"Exactly! Because I- What?" Nami cut herself off mid-sentence and frowned. "What do you mean, Sanji?"

"I’d like to point out that I’m pretty good at reading people," Sanji removed his hand when Zoro silently shrugged. "And you’re not the kind of person who would kill someone close to them. Not even for money."

"Someone close to me?!" Nami laughed. Her laugh, heavy and hoarse, sounded completely unnatural. "I hate all of you. Usopp is dead. Now get out of here! Goodbye."

"Nami…" Luffy exhaled and the next moment collapsed on the ground. "Sleep… I don’t want to leave the island. Those fish-headed bastards don’t bother me. Right now, I just want… to sleep," everyone stared at Luffy in confusion, and Sanji let out a barely audible soft chuckle.

Marimo gave him a suspicious, frowning look, and Sanji winked at him. The boy twitched his shoulders — he looked so funny that Sanji wanted to laugh. But the situation didn’t allow for it.

Nami shouted at them furiously to do what they wanted and left. Sanji felt sorry for her, but there was nothing he could do right now.

Johnny and Yosaku wisely decided to leave them, understanding that they were no match for Arlong, and went in the opposite direction from the girl.

Meanwhile, Zoro sat practically where he had been standing, obeying the will of the captain, who had indeed fallen asleep almost immediately after their navigator left.

"Marimo," Sanji knelt before him at a respectful distance, not worrying about the cleanliness of his clothes. "Let me check your wound? Please."

Zoro sighed heavily, but to Sanji’s delight, set Wado aside and pulled himself out of his shirt.

The bandages were new, clean — obviously, someone from the group (Sanji was sure it was Usopp) had re-bandaged Marimo, as Sanji had asked. Removing the bandages, he lightly touched the hot skin of the shoulder and abdomen with his fingers, feeling a bit bitter as he realized that Zoro from his time would never have allowed him to do this.

"Usopp said it was you who stitched me up," Zoro rasped lowly as Sanji removed the bandages and began examining the wound for signs of pus, inflammation, ruptures, or other processes that could hinder comfortable healing. "I thought you were just a cook."

"I am just a cook," Sanji snorted, satisfied that although the skin around the sutures was unpleasantly red, it wasn’t covered in blood or pus. "But I have the necessary skills. Who knew they’d come in handy?" Sanji raised a mischievous gaze to Marimo watching him.

"I didn’t think you… That is, I didn’t know… No, you- erm…" Zoro frowned awkwardly and slightly angrily, unsure how to express what he wanted to say.

Being open and sincere was rather difficult for him since he was a man of action who preferred deeds to words. But Curly Eyebrow didn’t look like that.

"It’s okay," Sanji smiled gently, continuing to slowly re-bandage Zoro after the examination. "I’m not forcing you to talk. After all, I think I know what you want to say."

"And what is it that I want to say?" Zoro smirked slyly, melting Sanji’s heart with his adorable grin.

"That I’m not what you imagined. And also — that you’re grateful for my help," Sanji tied a knot on the bandages and shifted back a little, but not too far. Right now, it was vitally important for him to breathe in Zoro’s scent, see the light in his golden eyes, and touch his knee with his calf. "Am I right?" Sanji tilted his head, exhaling smoke from a new cigarette, and lovingly admired little Marimo.

"…Yeah," Zoro shyly pursed his lips, turning away and throwing his shirt back on.

The cook’s attention embarrassed him — he looked at him in a way no one, not even the red-haired witch, had ever looked at him. Tenderly, softly, affectionately — the way men only looked at women, Zoro had previously believed.

But now he wasn’t so sure. This strange cook, damn Curly Eyebrow, had thrown his calm mind into disarray with his inappropriate displays of attention.

Not that it didn’t flatter him…

Zoro shook his head. He shouldn’t be thinking about such nonsense!

"Zoro, Zoro!" Usopp shouted, running towards them.

Sanji blinked and sighed with some disappointment.

Right, they were supposed to face the fish-men very soon… He had allowed himself to relax too much, immersed in the atmosphere of their sharp yet sweet banter with Marimo.

Chapter Text

"How wonderful that you're all here!" Usopp exclaimed, and after a loud exhale, he seriously added: "Nami saved my life! She definitely has some hidden motive for being with the fish-men! At least, that's what I think," he concluded his speech with a somewhat doubtful phrase.

"Useless. You won't be able to wrest this island from Arlong's power anyway," a high but rather stern female voice sounded behind them.

They turned around and noticed Nojiko, Nami’s older sister. She looked much younger than Sanji remembered her from their last meeting on Mimi’s birthday.

"Useless? Why do you say that?" Zoro crossed his arms over his chest, giving Nojiko a skeptical look.

Instead of admiring the delicate beauty of the young (to him now) girl, Sanji couldn’t take his eyes off little Marimo, who, no matter his age, always tried to fulfill his duties as first mate.

"Please, don’t interfere in our affairs and forget about Nami. I'll tell you everything as it is… but after that, you must leave the island," Nojiko gave them an ultimatum with no apparent chance of getting the navigator back into the crew.

"I don’t care! I’m not interested in her past," Luffy snorted and carelessly walked off in the direction Nami had gone.

In response to Usopp’s worried question, Luffy waved him off and was gone. Everyone present watched him walk away with long gazes.

Sanji quietly, softly chuckled, sitting down next to Zoro — it was impossible not to be charmed by such behavior.

When adult Luffy displayed inappropriate youthful recklessness, childish spontaneity, and trust, it caused slight irritation and fatigue. After all, they were adults and serious people, but now…

They were still children. A little naive, a little trusting, but infinitely happy and open to the world and the experiences they gained. Sanji wanted to preserve this atmosphere in their crew for as long as possible because after two years of training, they would change forever, becoming tougher in response to a cruel and dangerous world.

Zoro gave him a frowning look but said nothing against Sanji sitting nearby.

Moreover, respecting the personal boundaries of little cute Marimo, Sanji wasn’t sitting as close as he would have liked. Sanji couldn’t help his stupid and irrational desire to always keep Zoro in his field of vision.

"We’ll listen to you. Though I doubt it will do any good…" Zoro drawled, putting his hands behind his head and leaning back against the tree behind him. And he closed his eyes, dozing off.

Sanji hadn’t understood before why Marimo slept so much, and it used to drive him crazy. It seemed to him that Roronoa was just slacking off, but once, already at a fairly mature age, shortly before their crew disbanded, he finally understood.

It was extremely foolish that he realized such a simple thing so late. But when it came to Marimo, Sanji never suffered from rational actions or thoughts.

The fact that Zoro constantly slept helped him recover faster. He never let his wounds heal completely, entering battles that reopened old wounds and inflicted new ones. By the end of their journey together, due to this bad habit, Marimo’s entire body, except for his back, was crisscrossed with a horrifying number of scars.

"Especially if you fall asleep…" Nojiko said, confused, raising an eyebrow.

And Sanji blinked several times, emerging from memories of those last days on the Sunny, when he tried to catch the moment to confess his love to the dumb Marimo but chickened out and missed his chance. It was bitter, it was painful. It was unbearable — especially in the first few years after parting.

Together with Usopp, they calmed Nojiko, assuring her that they would definitely listen to her (he didn’t plan to do this; why, if he already knew everything?), Sanji glanced at his thin fingers.

There were still no rings on them, and this saddened him — he was used to caressing the engravings on the rings, the precious stones on them in a thoughtful impulse. It calmed him, set the right mood… He definitely needed to get them or ask Nami-san.

Curiously, Sanji thought, softly looking at the sleeping Marimo, would he appreciate such changes in appearance, or would he remain as indifferent as his other version?

Sanji wanted to believe that after some time, their relationship would become more friendly than it was in his timeline during this period. Because now Sanji doesn’t provoke Zoro and doesn’t fight with him over every little thing and without…

"So, to gather that much money and save the village, she joined the team of monsters who killed her mother…" Usopp grimly summarized Nojiko’s words.

"Nojiko-chan," Sanji softly said, approaching the girl. He looked at her not with the eyes of a reckless and frivolous boy, but of an experienced, confident, and reliable man. "Nami-san is a member of the crew. She is our nakama. And for our nakama, we will destroy the Arlong Park to the ground and cast these ruthless creatures into the depths of Hell. We will dance tango on the bones of these rotten fishies, I promise you. May I?" Smiling in response to the confused look and hesitant nod from the flustered girl, Sanji bowed and kissed the air above her extended hand.

"Show-off," yawned Marimo, standing up from his spot. Sanji winked at him, receiving an eye roll and a faint smirk in return.

"Th-that was like something out of a knight romance novel, wow," Usopp laughed merrily. "It was somehow too unrealistically bookish. It was as if an author of romantic stories wrote your lines," Sanji looked at Usopp in confusion, but the boy backed down and didn’t elaborate further.

When the exchange of opinions about Sanji’s speech ended, they set off — after all, he managed to convince Nojiko that they really would kick Arlong’s and his pirates’ asses.

"Please forgive me if I caused you any discomfort," Sanji softly said, lighting a cigarette as they headed in the same direction Luffy had gone. He walked alongside Nojiko behind Usopp and Zoro.

"No, everything’s fine," Nojiko shook her head, smiling shyly. "Peers have never spoken to me this… gallantly before. It’s disorienting."

"I’m glad to be your first positive experience of such interaction," Sanji squinted his eyes happily, exhaling cigarette smoke and looking up at the sky.

Well, he had grown and changed, but not his attitude towards women. He still adored them, respected them, and was ready to carry them in his arms. But he realized that it could be done differently than loudly screaming like a carpet at their feet. Over the years, he had gained significant experience in charming women.

Zoro and Usopp fell behind (but not so far that Sanji lost sight of them), while Sanji and Nojiko arrived just in time.

"...He hints that each of us is desperately fighting for our lives. And all because the government is useless!" Nojiko shouted in response to the rat-like marine’s question, whose subordinates deliberately destroyed the charming orange grove of Bellemere-san and dug up the ground. "If you’re not going to save this village, then get out of here! And if you linger any longer…"

The mention of Arlong as a punitive force made the marine sneer nastily — it became clear that the rat wasn’t just unafraid of him but probably had some deal with him. For the sisters and villagers, this was, of course, a blow.

"So you were sent by Arlong?!" Nami screamed in anger.

"What nonsense? We’re just confiscating stolen goods from a thief," the marine sneered disgustingly and arrogantly. And when their reproaches clearly bored him, the rat turned away and ordered: "Disperse them. They're interfering with the search."

The rifle barrels pointed at Nojiko and Sanji standing next to her, as they were closest to the soldiers. Sanji rolled the cigarette in his mouth and, lifting Nojiko into his arms so quickly that the girl herself didn’t even realize it, Sanji jumped aside.

All this happened in a matter of seconds — the bullets flew past. Although a couple grazed the fabric of his pants.

"Nojiko-chan," Sanji smiled and carefully set the girl down, holding her slightly trembling hand. "Nami-san," he addressed Nami, who ran up to them, "we’re glad to see you again. As you told us, we do what we want. And right now, I want to kill every one of these marines who dared to raise a weapon at the beautiful Nojiko-chan," Sanji’s voice became lower, deeper, and much, much more threatening.

His gaze darkened, his visible eyebrow furrowed. He sounded so convincingly that the soldiers, who hadn’t left with their bastard leader, raised their rifles again. Sanji could forgive a lot, but violence against women — never.

Not interfering in the course of events? Sorry, Time, but he would kill a few self-important people again.

Fighting several opponents when the only thing they could oppose him with was rifles was akin to beating infants. But, unfortunately, Sanji no longer felt compassion towards such “harmless” opponents. Scum who placed dirty, lying duty above honor and morality did not deserve to live.

Moving so quickly that he couldn’t be tracked without Haki (and in East Blue, Sanji reminded himself, none of their opponents possessed it), Sanji, with legs infused with Armament Haki, smashed the marines’ heads, broke necks and chests — in short, delivered fatal blows.

Stopping, Sanji lightly brushed off his feet (his pants were charred again, which was starting to irritate him) and surveyed the dead opponents. Beating infants took less than three minutes. Had he been in his own body — it would have taken less than thirty seconds.

"You’re a monster," Nojiko said with an indescribable emotion, drawing Sanji’s attention to the gathered villagers.

"Do you say that with disgust or-?" Sanji cautiously asked, unable to find Nami but spotting Luffy, who was already waving cheerfully at him. Little captain enthusiastically waved, and Sanji waved back.

"With admiration," Nojiko confidently nodded.

"Thank you," Sanji smiled, flattered. "Before we go to beat up Arlong, I’d like to visit the bastard marine who decided to humiliate beautiful ladies and deal with murderers instead of serving the law honestly. Any objections? Captain? Nojiko-chan?"

"Go ahead," Luffy waved dismissively. "But make sure you come back before Nami returns!" the boy strictly tapped his slipper.

"Well, technically, we can handle it without him," Zoro smirked, approaching with Usopp after Nami’s departure.

"No, absolutely not," Luffy shook his head in disagreement. "Sanji is a cool fighter, and he definitely has to fight with us! You haven’t seen what he did to Krieg’s pirates, it was something!"

"I can imagine…" Usopp whispered shakily, glancing at the dead patrolmen.

Meanwhile, Sanji went to deliver retribution. He was furious and wished the rat a long, agonizing death, which, incidentally, he could easily provide.

Chapter Text

Screams.

Full of agony, gasping in blood, begging for mercy.

He moves unhurriedly. Each of his smooth, quiet steps — one life taken, miserable and worthless. Rage fills his body, like poison sliding through his veins, melting his skin from within. Or perhaps it's his inner fire?

Sanji throws a cigarette into a pool of blood and stops in front of the creature, unworthy even to be called human. Ironically, he looks like a rat — his appearance speaks for itself. Born an animal, he will die an animal.

"Wh-," the captain flinches, clutching several packs of slightly dirty banknotes to his chest, and stares wide-eyed at Sanji, who silently gazes back.

He didn’t hear him, didn’t hear his approach, just as he didn’t hear the screams of the other marines — because Sanji had killed them all in less than a minute. Everyone who crossed his path. The rage gave him speed.

"Disgusting pirate!" the rat shouted, stepping back. "An attack on the Captain of the Marine will- Aah!" He tripped and fell onto the deck of the ship.

Sanji slowly approached him, cornering him. His usually bright blue eyes were now empty. Easily deflecting the trembling hand raising a pistol, Sanji pressed the heel of his shoe onto the guard’s wrist, crushing it beyond repair.

A scream.

Loud, desperate, filled with terror and pain, it turned into sobs and attempts to bargain, trying to bribe him. A rat, wherever it may be, will always try to save its own skin. Especially in a situation where salvation was impossible.

Sanji laughed. A cruel, low laugh that abruptly cut off, replaced by a quiet whisper:

"Trying to beg for your pathetic soul? How amusing," Sanji easily pressed down on the bent knee, forcing the bone with a wet sound to tear through the skin and fabric of the pants. "You were also begged for mercy. What did you do? Nothing."

Sanji narrowed his eyes, coldly and indifferently staring at the crying and bleeding guard.

"I would have ripped out your tiny rotten heart to offer it to Nami-san as a gesture of comfort, but I'm not quite insane enough yet," Sanji pressed down on the pelvic bone and smiled as it broke, causing unbearable agony. "Or am I?"

Sanji left his question unanswered, looking with disdain at the guard choking on his own blood. Maybe he really had gone mad.

Realizing this disturbing fact, Sanji grimaced bitterly and decided to mercifully finish off the bastard, smashing his head and crushing the warm, soft brain.

Shaking off the blood and flesh remains from his pants and shoes, he cheerfully headed back to his nakama, not noticing several hidden marines.

He practically arrived in time — a sobbing Nami-san, having inflicted terrible wounds on herself, was stopped by an eerily serious Luffy. Every time the face of their captain, no matter how old he was, took on such a stern, determined expression, Sanji felt a reverent awe.

Because he often forgot that their carefree captain could sometimes become serious. Since it was completely uncharacteristic for him, it always surprised. Sanji wanted to squeal in admiration and clap his hands; he was the biggest fan of Monkey D. Luffy in this timeline.

Lighting a cigarette, Sanji met the gaze of a frowning Zoro, who quickly and thoughtfully glanced at him, as if trying to find any injuries or something similar. After all, Zoro never forgot that he was the first mate.

"Let's go," Luffy said briefly, heavily, and still seriously, leaving his hat with Nami-san.

"Yes, captain!" they chorused in response: Sanji, Zoro, and Usopp.

On the way to Arlong Park, Sanji caught up with Zoro and softly, but insistently, said:

"I understand that for you this might be humiliating, but since you're seriously injured and haven't fully recovered, I strongly urge you not to overexert yourself. It will negatively affect your recovery, Zoro."

"Don't tell me what to do, cook," Zoro replied coldly and irritably.

Sanji closed his eyes for a moment, suppressing irrational anger caused by youthful maximalism and the foolishness of Marimo, who didn't realize the full danger of his condition.

By the gods, he loved him with all his heart, he was ready to lay the world at his feet, but in those moments, he wanted to kick him in the rear.

"When you collapse in a pool of blood due to your overworked wound, I swear by the gods, I'll make you regret your decision," Sanji quietly promised, remembering well what happened to this damn grass-head in his timeline.

He survived by a miracle! Only through the strength of his stubbornness.

Their arrival was accompanied by the crash of collapsing gates. Before Luffy broke the poor gates, Sanji stared in surprise at Yosaku and Johnny — he had forgotten that they stayed to apologize to Nami and help them. Amazingly, there was so much he had forgotten. Although... twenty-eight years had passed...

Following Luffy, Sanji thoughtfully surveyed the battlefield. Fighting underwater wouldn't be an option. Not because fishmen were particularly good in their natural environment, but because Sanji still couldn't breathe underwater. It was unpleasant to admit, but there was indeed some benefit to awakened Germa blood.

Over more than twenty years, Sanji had grown accustomed to the advantages it gave him in battles, which proved useful, for example, now. Fighting fishmen wasn't the most pleasant task considering they fought differently than humans, using techniques unavailable to others. But fortunately, Sanji had spent over ten years sailing with the best fishman karate user and knew many tricks for fighting against fishmen.

Kicking a few fishmen who decided to attack Luffy, Sanji stood next to him, responding with a gentle smile to his bright but somewhat gloomy look:

"Remember, we're always here to help you. You shouldn't take on too much," Sanji wanted to lift the heavy burden from the shoulders of each of his young nakama.

And if it were up to him, he'd tuck them all into his pockets on his chest and go kill every one of their enemies.

"I'll leave you a couple of enemies," Luffy nodded seriously, and Sanji exhaled loudly. How adorable his little captain was when he became so collected and stern!

"All right, Luffy, you don't need to share with me," Usopp moaned exhaustedly.

"How generous," Zoro mocked sarcastically.

Ignoring the summoning of the whale cow, whose name turned out to be Momo, and Arlong's insults, Sanji felt a certain dark, ironic nostalgia for his terrible childhood. Who would have thought that Arlong would remind him of his bastard father?

Judge recognized him long after Sanji finally awakened his cursed heritage. That awakening was tied to one of the worst times in his life, but there was also a positive moment — after years of doubt and denial, Sanji accepted his love for the stupid Marimo, from whose hands he was supposed to die. But the murder never happened, instead Sanji received recognition from Judge. Of course, he said he'd rather die than join Germa, but just the fact... Now it was funny, but then it consumed him with rage and anger for a very long time.

"Tired of it!" Luffy screamed. "We're just wasting time!"

It was astonishing that he managed to break free with his legs. Surprisingly, the fact that he got stuck in stone was the greatest idiocy concerning his future entrapment.

Sanji sighed melancholically and told the boys to move to a safe distance so this poor sea cow wouldn't crush them too. Watching Luffy spin her by the horns, scattering Arlong pirates across the park, was entertaining, and Sanji even chuckled a couple of times, catching another suspicious glance from Usopp.

"I didn't come here to waste time on small fry! I came here to beat some sense into you!" Luffy yelled furiously, pointing at Arlong.

Ignoring Arlong's words, Sanji approached Luffy. The boy was indeed stuck, but that was no problem for someone capable of destroying an island with a single leg strike. If precisely, then currently Sanji could only punch through a ship or two.

"Stuck?" Sanji smiled, slightly leaning forward and glancing sideways at Luffy.

"Uh, a bit… Can you help?" Luffy momentarily lost his serious mask and returned to being himself. With a dull tenderness, Sanji understood that, despite everything, he preferred the silly carefree monkey-boy to the stern battle-focused young man.

"Of course, captain," Sanji ruffled Luffy's soft and fluffy hair like a child's.

His legs grew heavier with Armament Haki, Sanji swung one, positioning it perpendicular to the ground for a few seconds, and struck with all the force his small frail body could muster.

The earth trembled in waves, massive chunks of rocky surface breaking apart, causing a quake-like tremor that made buildings dangerously shake and tilt.

Many fishmen were buried under falling elongated deep cracks in the soil. Those who were alive and able moved away screaming, but there were very few of them.

All active participants, including their team, Arlong, and his closest oversized fish, managed to escape.

However, Sanji's goal wasn't to bury them under the ground — at least not at this moment. Catching Luffy mid-jump, Sanji easily landed on the most stable piece of stone floor and placed Luffy beside him.

"Cool!" Luffy cheered enthusiastically, raising his arms. "Thanks, Sanji!"

Winking at his little captain, Sanji shifted the cigarette in his mouth and intercepted a chunk of the floor thrown by Hatchan with his foot, splitting it into two uneven halves.

Glaring heavily at Hatchan, Sanji mentally reminded himself not to kill him under any circumstances since this raw octopus would still be useful during their stay on the Fishman Island.

True, the desire to make takoyaki for the whole crew was incredibly strong, but doing so was absolutely forbidden.

"You're pretty strong for a human," Hatchan mused, and Sanji smirked mockingly. "But even such strength won't help you win."

Maybe the issue was that he wasn't entirely human? But saying that wouldn't be wise.

"I might not be able to win alone," which was a lie but worth hiding, "but we are four. And no matter how much a fish squirms in nets, it will end up on the frying pan."

Moments later, they split up.

Luffy and Arlong ended up in a tilting tower due to Sanji's strike, creating a massive hole.

Sanji had no doubts about the captain — he knew everything would be fine and he would manage. God Nika wouldn't let him die so easily...

Dodging Kuroobi's punch, Sanji absently flicked the ash off his cigarette.

He hadn't thought about the true nature of the captain's fruit since regressing in time. Learning that all mythical Zoans were once humans, who then became gods cursed to live in such a rather humiliating existence, was a real shock to the entire crew.

Nevertheless, during their voyage, they learned many things that changed their perspectives on the world.

Nika, unlike other deities, retained his identity over several millennia while imprisoned within the fruit. And from the start, choosing Luffy as his ideal vessel after Joy Boy, protected the young Monkey D., preparing his body for full awakening. They learned all of this directly from the Sun God himself…

"How tiresome," Sanji sighed wearily, throwing the cigarette away and stopping Kuroobi's punch, which failed to deal significant damage, with his leg imbued with Armament Haki. Kuroobi's strikes felt like slaps on the skin, light, precise, but weak.

"Let me tell you a secret," he leaned forward, meeting the wide-open eyes of the fishman, "you're much weaker than Jimbei. Though, what am I saying..." Sanji chuckled lightly. "No one among you can compare to him. Ah, how I miss him..."

Sighing regretfully, Sanji sent Kuroobi flying with a swift swing of his toe, delivering several consecutive point-blank and merciless kicks to the areas of internal organs, tearing them apart as the fishman began to choke on his own blood.

Landing on the ground, Sanji raised his head and clicked his tongue disapprovingly, realizing he had hovered in the air for a few moments. While the Sky Walk allowed him to move through the air, its later reworked version, which relied on the Diable Jambe with white fire, enabled him to remain stationary in the air.

He was dissatisfied because all these techniques, used out of habit and forgetfulness, destroyed the skin and muscles of his legs, which weren't adapted for such abuse.

Landing on the ground, Sanji lifted his pant legs and winced — his skin from the middle of his calf down to his toes was unpleasantly charred, peeling off in patches, exposing veins, muscles, and tendons in some places. Thankfully, the bones weren't affected.

Regeneration was very slow, almost like a normal person's, which also annoyed him. Who would have thought he'd regret the lack of his awakened heritage! Reiju would definitely laugh at him... How was she doing anyway?

Sanji redirected his scattered gaze to the other side of Arlong Park and froze, abruptly standing up, his painful legs protesting.

"Zoro!" he gasped in horror.

How could he allow himself to lose focus when Marimo was bleeding mere steps away?! Damn idiot! Idiot, idiot, idiot!

He ran toward the fallen Zoro, ignoring the unbearable pain from the raw meat that was his legs, but froze when the youth stood up.

"Listen up, octopus! I need to meet someone, and until that happens... No one will take my life!" He shouts at Johnny and Yosaku to throw him their swords and ties a bandana around his head.

Sanji mutters like a mantra, "Can't kill Hatchan," "Can't kill Hatchan," "Can't kill Hatchan," barely holding back with divine help to not rush into the fight and finish off that damn octopus.

With an expert eye, Sanji sees signs of an impending fever. He digs his nails into his palm, feeling warm blood begin to trickle down his fingers.

Watching Zoro dodge Hatchan's sword strikes, Sanji thinks he'll definitely go gray much earlier than planned.

Worrying such fear and anxiety over someone else's life every time Marimo faced an opponent... It would be unbearable. And he didn't feel this way about Luffy or Usopp. Yes, he worried about them — they were his family — but Zoro... Zoro was the meaning of his life.

Hatchan yells, and Zoro stops behind him, avoiding a six-sword attack. Their heavy, rage-filled gazes meet for a moment as Sanji stands some distance away.

Zoro smugly grins at him, showing his gums and pearly white teeth, like a proud child boasting about his success. Sanji wants to strangle him with his bare hands from worry, but doesn't get a chance to say anything as Zoro refocuses on Hatchan.

Sanji tunes out the dialogue between Zoro and Hatchan, focusing on Marimo's ragged breathing.

He tracks every movement, every swing of the hand with the sword... Sanji cries out when Hatchan uses the "Body Destruction" technique, reopening the wound on Zoro's chest, soaking the bandages and haramaki with blood.

Involuntarily, he takes a few steps forward but forces himself to stop. Zoro will hate him if he interferes. Zoro, Zoro, Zoro...

Sanji blinks, seeing for a brief moment the small, stubborn Marimo who refused to fall before the enemy two years ago in his timeline.

The adult Roronoa was always so distant. Sanji could never catch up to him, no matter how hard he tried. It seemed that with every step taken, the gap between them only widened.

The realization that he would never be able to be close to the person he loved killed him.

Sanji blinks again, exhaling as Zoro delivers the final, most powerful blow to Hatchan.

Sanji rushes to the collapsing Marimo, pulling him close. Fever shakes him, his skin unbearably hot, and his pulse skyrockets.Zoro coughs up blood, wincing in pain.

Sanji effortlessly and without much effort lifts him into his arms, ignoring the protesting wheezes, and whispers:

"I told you, you'd regret your decision."

Why had he spent years thinking he could never catch up to Zoro, never get close to him? Because he had always been here, nearby — within arm's reach.

Chapter Text

"Damn cook..." Zoro angrily and somewhat awkwardly croaked, forcing himself to stay conscious and clutching the clean, unwrinkled (even after the battle! What kind of monster was he?) fabric of the jacket with his damp fingers. "Put me down on the ground immediately!"

"Hmm," Sanji adopted a thoughtful expression as he approached the bewildered Genzo and Nojiko-chan standing with other villagers at the entrance to Arlong Park. "Denied. Accept your punishment with dignity, samurai," Sanji sang teasingly, pulling the trembling Zoro (and definitely not from fever) closer. "Nojiko-chan, could you- Oh! Usopp!"

Through the hole that Usopp had previously made, the boy himself peered out.

Covered in blood and sporting numerous bruises all over his body, he still looked quite pleased and proud of himself and his work.

Noticing his nakama, Usopp gave them a suspicious look. Sanji carelessly smiled back at him, while Zoro covered his eyes wearily with his forearm.

"Where-!" Nami's sudden appearance drew everyone’s attention. She looked so serious and focused that Sanji couldn’t help but remember his Nami-san.

Terrifying in her anger, incredibly strong in battle, charming in everyday life... A woman who had tamed the weather. A loving wife, a tender mother, a loyal friend — she was all of that.

But she still had to become the person Sanji had left behind... Longing for his loved ones once again clawed at his old, weak heart, which was vulnerable to memories and shadows of the past.

"Nami-san, how glad I am to see you!" Sanji smiled, forcing himself to push aside these nostalgic thoughts that were inappropriate right now. "How do you feel?"

Frowning, Nami glanced at Sanji and the heavily breathing Zoro in his arms, who didn’t look entirely healthy. Raising an eyebrow, she asked, ignoring the cook's question:

"Shouldn't we take care of Zoro instead of-"

Chairs and other pieces of furniture flew past them, followed by torn paper that had once been maps, magazines, and books. Startled, Nami raised her head, her eyes wide with disbelief.

Sanji nodded approvingly to himself — Luffy would soon defeat Arlong, so they really should focus on Marimo. Turning to Nojiko-chan, Sanji asked where he could find a doctor.

The girl offered to escort them to the hospital, sharing regretfully along the way that only one person remained on the entire island; the others had been killed.

Sanji closed his eyes. These fish weren’t just meant to be killed; they needed to be fried and served as dishes... How much he missed his time!

Because of the war against the World Government, the boundaries between races had blurred, and all living, intelligent beings, regardless of their beliefs, united against a common enemy. After the war, thanks to Luffy as the “Sun God” and Shirahoshi-chan’s influence, the friendship between races only strengthened...

How long until that moment? Twelve, fifteen years? It felt like an eternity.

At the hospital, they were greeted by a stern, slightly irritated man around Sanji’s real age, already busy treating others injured in today’s clash with the fishmen. Sanji liked him because he provided the necessary equipment and a bed without asking too many questions.

Meanwhile, Nojiko-chan excused herself, citing a few important tasks to complete. The girl was agitated, and she was visibly trembling — not from fear, but from joy, since Arlong’s tyranny had finally come to an end.

Laying Zoro on the bed, Sanji began removing his clothes, but the stubborn brat, somehow still conscious, pushed his hands away, glaring fiercely and taking off his shirt and haramaki himself. However, he lacked the strength to remove the bandages.

"Stubborn fool," Sanji snorted, carefully cutting the bandages stuck to the skin with medical scissors.

"Self-important idiot," the feverish Zoro retorted. "What the hell are you even doing?" he croaked hoarsely, watching Sanji sanitize his hands.

"Because no one else will do it," Sanji sighed wearily, starting to gently — and incredibly tenderly, so as not to cause more pain to the already suffering boy — remove the fishing line from the torn wound. "Until we have a doctor, I’ll take care of your wounds."

Zoro frowned and leaned his head back. When Sanji finished removing the last threads of fishing line, Zoro parted his lips and whispered quietly, just before passing out:

"Thanks."

Sanji froze with the needle in hand, staring dumbfounded at Zoro. Did Marimo just thank him? Marimo?! Him?! Indeed, this wasn’t his Marimo…

Bitterly chuckling, Sanji got back to work. It didn’t take long — less than half an hour later, the freshly re-bandaged little Marimo rested on the bed with a wet towel on his forehead.

Sanji settled onto a free couch to tend to his legs while the doctor stepped out briefly.

His skin was already regenerating, but his feet still looked awful — burnt areas throbbed with noticeable, though tolerable, pain when touched or walked on.

Perhaps their appearance was also affected by the fact that Sanji hadn’t allowed them to fully heal after Baratie, as burns already covered some parts of his skin then. Once again lamenting his poor regeneration, he tightly wrapped his legs in bandages.

Sanji lit a cigarette, stepping onto the hospital porch. The doctor joined him, gratefully accepting the offered cigarette and exhaling smoke loudly as he gazed thoughtfully at the sky:

"I heard you don’t have a ship doctor. Who are you? You stitched him up professionally — nothing to criticize," the man chuckled teasingly.

"I’m the cook. But I was trained by the best doctor I ever knew," Sanji replied softly, warmth and nostalgia seeping into his voice. "He taught me this."

As their opponents grew stronger, the need for field treatment of serious injuries became more pressing.

Chopper couldn’t be everywhere at once, so after several unpleasant incidents during the war, he proposed teaching the Mugiwara crew and pirates in their fleet basic skills that could save lives if he wasn’t nearby.

Not everyone mastered these skills, but they certainly came in handy — especially for Sanji.

Approaching Luffy and Usopp, Sanji touched the captain’s face with his palms and said with a joyful, sincere smile:

"I’m so proud of you, captain. You did an amazing job!" They embraced, and Sanji affectionately patted the boy clinging to him on the head. "Now, let the doctor re-bandage you, and I’ll start preparing a grand victory feast over Arlong."

Luffy whined, unwilling to let go, but the mention of meat being ready sooner convinced the little captain to dash into the hospital under Sanji’s gentle laughter.

Smiling, Sanji turned to Usopp:

"I’m sure you, brave sea warrior Usopp, handled your task brilliantly. As a reward, I’ll prepare what I do best — cooking."

Sanji tousled the proudly smiling Usopp’s hair and set off to find Nami-san or Nojiko-chan.

He needed to locate a kitchen to start cooking.

Besides, he should feed Marimo as soon as possible — it would help him recover faster.

After all, the food of the great God of Cuisine, Sanji-sama, healed not only emotional wounds and united hearts but also physically aided recovery.

"Ahh, Nojiko-chan, Nami-san!" Sanji called, waving as the sisters emerged from their house. Approaching them, he asked politely: "Could you please tell me where I might prepare a meal? It’s my duty, after all, to provide food for my nakama. And since this is such a joyous occasion, I’d like to prepare food for everyone else too."

The sisters exchanged glances. Nami smirked playfully, wiggling her eyebrows, while Nojiko rolled her eyes and turned to the patiently waiting Sanji:

"You can cook in our house. Anyway, all the food will eventually be moved to the village square, where people from across the island will gather," Nokichi gestured toward their home. "But Nami and I need to go somewhere first, and then I’ll join you. Use whatever you find. I'll bring more ingredients when I return."

"Very well, my ladies. Thank you," Sanji bowed graciously and entered their house.

There weren’t many supplies, unsurprisingly — fishmen likely wouldn’t allow extensive livestock farming or large-scale crop cultivation. But for someone capable of creating a culinary masterpiece from mere rice, this posed no problem.

Nojiko returned about forty minutes later with a sack of spices, grains, and a bucket of fresh, large fish caught by some villager. Gently scolding her for carrying such heavy loads herself instead of asking a man to help, Sanji showered her with gratitude — he was short on spices.

"Can I help?" Nojiko asked, eyeing the sautéing vegetables. The smell was incredible — she involuntarily swallowed several times. It seemed like she'd never smelled such rich, vibrant cooking aromas before.

"Hm, it wouldn’t hurt..." Sanji paused from stirring the pot of rice and turned his attention to Nojiko, who hadn’t taken her eyes off the vegetables. Smiling warmly, he removed the lid, allowing the spicy vegetable aroma to fill the small kitchen, and said: "You may try a few pieces, Nojiko-chan."

"R-really?" Nojiko exhaled in surprise but didn’t need a second invitation. Grabbing a fork, she selected a few large chunks and quickly placed them in her mouth.

Trembling, she emitted a soft moan of pleasure. She had never eaten food this delicious. Everything in the vegetables was perfect — the natural juice of the tomatoes bursting with the first bite, filling her mouth; the spiciness of the added seasonings giving brightness and complexity to otherwise ordinary vegetables; the natural sweetness of the peppers gently complementing the spices...

Her body filled with a forgotten lightness and energy. It was strange, but it seemed like she could run several dozen kilometers right now, if not fight a sea king. The dull, aching fatigue that had settled in her limbs disappeared. Her head felt pleasantly empty, and only the phantom taste of the vegetables lingered in her memory. Opening her eyes wide, she whispered:

"It… it was magnificent."

"I’m glad you enjoyed it!" Sanji laughed delightedly. "Feel free to eat as much as you want."

"No, no," Nojiko shook her head, though the desire to grab the pan and eat all the vegetables inside was immense. "I’ll wait for the official feast and eat with everyone."

"As you wish," Sanji nodded with an understanding smile.

They began cooking together. Nojiko helped by cleaning the fish and vegetables.

Meanwhile, they chatted about everything — Sanji told her stories about his adventures on Baratie, encounters with various nasty pirates trying to kill the restaurant cooks, but he also shared tales about the dishes they prepared. He explained their creation history and preparation techniques, sharing interesting facts about the ingredients. All this he accompanied with jokes, to which Nojiko responded with similar humor.

Nojiko, on the other hand, shared neutral stories unrelated to Arlong and the fishmen — mostly childhood memories involving Bellemere and Nami-san.

Sanji appreciated her willingness to share their common past with him, as he’d never heard so much about their childhood, even from Nami-san.

Together, they managed to prepare about thirty different dishes in just over three hours, enough for nearly a hundred people.

Nojiko couldn’t help but marvel at how Sanji organized everything with the limited ingredients available. It was nothing short of miraculous.

Saying goodbye to Nojiko at the square, where a significant number of people had already gathered, drawn by the enticing aroma, Sanji adjusted the bag of food for Marimo and headed to the hospital to feed his stubborn, grumpy beloved.

Zoro slept.

Placing the bag on the bedside table, Sanji sat on it, affectionately gazing at the sleeping youth. Zoro was very handsome — no wonder Kozuki Hiyori, a beauty, had once wanted to marry him.

Sanji wouldn’t have been surprised if Zoro had accepted such a splendid proposal, but for some reason, he refused every woman who showed interest.

In his youth, Sanji couldn’t understand why Zoro rejected such beauties, and it infuriated him. The mere thought of the most beautiful women kneeling before the emotionless block of stone that was Zoro, hoping for something, drove him mad.

But then he realized he was angry more at the women who dared to approach his Zoro, thinking they stood a chance. Still, he had nothing either.

But now… Now he had a chance.

"Stop boring holes in me with your gaze, damn cook," Zoro groaned unhappily, opening his beautiful eyes, in which one could easily drown like in pure gold.

"I couldn’t stop admiring your adorable sleeping face," Sanji flirted again, reaching for the bag containing the food.

Zoro rolled his eyes and sat up. Observing the selection of beautifully presented and wonderfully fragrant dishes, he muttered, stretching his neck:

"If you watch me sleep aboard Going Merry, you’ll get a katana through your eye."

"Oh, Marimo-kun, you wound me deeply," Sanji sighed dramatically, handing Zoro chopsticks. "Enjoy your meal. After you finish, we’ll head to the square. I think the celebration has already started."

Zoro nodded, accepting the chopsticks and inspecting the options.

A whole container of white rice, sashimi consisting of thinly sliced raw salmon with wasabi and lettuce leaves drizzled with sauce, karaage with a wedge of lemon, also drizzled with sauce, and three neatly arranged onigiri.

Everything looked and smelled amazing. Swallowing, Zoro picked up some rice with his chopsticks.

It seemed impossible to make rice either tasteless or exceptionally delicious — hard to alter its flavor without additions. But with this cursed Curly Eyebrow... Zoro stopped, making Sanji, who had relaxed, suddenly tense and nervously worry.

Did he not like it?!

"Zoro?" Sanji cautiously called out.

"What did you do?" Zoro bluntly asked, causing Sanji to grow even more confused.

"I'm not sure what you mean..."

"How did you make the rice taste so... so good?!" Zoro exclaimed enthusiastically.

"W-what?" Sanji, like an inexperienced teenager, shyly averted his gaze. Who would have thought Zoro’s compliment would feel so pleasant…

Meanwhile, Roronoa sampled the chicken and blissfully rolled his eyes, slowly chewing the tenderest meat whose crispy breading enhanced rather than overshadowed the natural flavor of the grilled fillet.

This was good. No, it was excellent.

Eating Sanji’s food felt like consuming something blessed by the gods — so incredibly delicious. Both the rice and the chicken pleased him so much that he savored every bite, which was completely uncharacteristic of him.

When he reached the sashimi, Zoro expected something equally incredible, and the salmon did not disappoint.

Roronoa didn’t understand what the cook did to the fish, but each slice was divine. The perfect balance of the tangy sauce accompanying the salmon, highlighting its journey to the stomach with a vivid burst of flavor. This was the best sashimi Zoro had ever eaten.

Additionally, the cook’s food had a strange effect — every bite seemed to rapidly replenish his energy. The aches throughout his body lessened, weakness faded, and his chest filled with a wonderful lightness. Moreover, Sanji’s food didn’t leave the usual heaviness of overeating.

"Are you a fruit user?" Zoro curiously asked, munching on the last onigiri.

"No, just a good cook," Sanji grinned playfully, recovering during the time Zoro enjoyed the meal.

"The best," Zoro sincerely shared his impressions. "Seriously, this is the best thing I’ve ever had in my stomach."

"I… I’m glad," Sanji touched his neck and awkwardly chuckled. He always reacted calmly to compliments from others, but these warm words from this grass-head made him feel something unusual! "We should probably head to the square," Sanji suggested.

"Yeah, you're right," Zoro nodded, not noticing the cook’s change in behavior, whether due to nonchalance or inattention.

They gathered the containers and headed to the square where the celebration was in full swing.

Their nakama spotted them instantly. Luffy leaped from his spot using his Devil Fruit powers, landing directly in the arms of laughing Sanji, who confidently caught him.

"Idiot, what are you doing!" Zoro shouted at the captain.

"Shi-shi-shi!" Luffy giggled, chewing a big piece of roasted meat. "Sanji always catches me!" He held onto Sanji’s shoulder with his second hand, swinging his legs carefree.

"That’s exactly true," the cook importantly nodded, amusing Luffy even more.

"But that doesn’t mean you can act so unexpectedly!" Zoro continued scolding Luffy. "What if something happened to him?"

"Don’t worry, Zoro," Sanji gazed tenderly at the frowning Roronoa, lowering Luffy to the ground. "I’m very sturdy; nothing bad will happen to me."

"Whatever, both of you!" Zoro waved them off, heading toward the drink table.

Sanji and Luffy exchanged glances and smiled. Patting the captain on the head and cheek, Sanji let him continue having fun. He could see Luffy was eager to dive into some chaos to release his energy.

Meanwhile, Sanji settled away from the crowd. Spotting Zoro chatting with Usopp, he relaxed. Nothing else mattered to him — alive, happy Roronoa Zoro.

"Sanji-kun?"

"Oh, Nojiko-chan," Sanji smiled at the girl.

"Let’s take a walk?" she suggested, nodding toward the crowd. "It’s getting pretty noisy here."

"Certainly, why not," Sanji shrugged, standing up.

Together, they headed in the opposite direction from the square.

Talking about how impressed the islanders were with his food, Nojiko led Sanji to Bellemere-san’s mandarin grove.

Meanwhile, night, maternally warm, enveloped the island in the dark cloth of endless mist, broken only by the distant but beautiful light of scattered stars. A gentle breeze caressed the skin, lazily slipping under clothing. Sanji smiled — it was peaceful and good.

"Sanji-kun," Nojiko called.

Sanji turned to her, and unexpectedly, she leaned forward, touching her soft lips to his slightly parted ones. His eyes widened, and the unlit cigarette fell from his hand into the tall grass.

Nojiko didn’t try to deepen the kiss; it was just a fleeting, yet sensual touch, burning with passion.

Sanji placed his hands on her shoulders and gently, without much pressure, pushed her away.

She trembled — whether from the biting wind or from the unexpected weariness in his gaze, shadowing his usually bright blue eyes.

"Nojiko-chan, please… Don’t."

"It's..." she took a few steps back, scanning him from head to toe, then bitterly smiled: "It’s the swordsman, isn’t it?"

"How did you know?" Sanji blinked in surprise.

"Your gaze… I thought I imagined it, but you look at him differently than anyone else," Nojiko awkwardly touched her neck and chuckled. "Lucky him."

"On the contrary, I think I’m the lucky one," Sanji softly smiled, merely thinking of Marimo. "Shall we return?"

"You go ahead, I’ll go to sleep," Nojiko shook her head.

"As you wish. Good night, Nojiko-chan," Sanji didn’t dare kiss her hand and simply nodded.

Watching her leave, he thought something had definitely gone wrong.

Chapter Text

The sun majestically gazed down upon the world from the boundless sky, occasionally hiding behind fluffy white clouds that resembled magical creatures.

Sanji involuntarily recalled Skypia, and then Enel, whose tyranny they would once again have to overthrow.

The smile slid off his relaxed face, and he sighed wearily, leaning down to peer beneath a mandarin bush.

“Did you really think I wouldn’t find you?” Sanji asked with an ironic grin, pulling the disgruntled captain by the collar of his vest like a mother cat dragging her mischievous kitten. “I know how much you want to try these mandarins, but — no, you can’t.”

“Why not?” Luffy pouted indignantly, crossing his arms over his chest. He was such a child.

“They mean a lot to Nami-san, and eating them without permission could upset her. Besides, it’s simply rude, even if you are our dear and beloved captain,” Sanji explained, seeing how hard it was for Luffy to grasp the idea that someone on this ship might have something private and off-limits to him.

Deciding to show mercy, he added: “I’ll ask her for a few and make dessert tonight. And please, don’t try to eat them without permission in the future. Agreed?”

“Hm… Alright!” Luffy nodded and catapulted himself toward Nami and Usopp.

By the look on his face, Sanji realized that the boy still hadn’t fully understood the lesson. He wanted to prevent further beatings of Luffy by Nami-san for his constant attempts to steal the mandarins, but, apparently, that was just their fate.

Shaking his head, he headed toward Zoro, intending to call him for an examination he hadn’t managed to do due to the morning rush.

They had set sail several hours ago. The farewell with the villagers of Cocoyashi went as Sanji remembered it — Nami stole their wallets, sparking a wave of outrage.

But at that moment, he smiled, seeing how happy and free his little ginger kitten finally was.

But just as he reached the sleeping Zoro and gently nudged the grumbling boy awake like an old man, Nami-san's excited voice called out to him.

Approaching his nakama along with the frowning Marimo, Sanji saw this scene: Luffy sitting on the deck laughing while holding one bounty poster, while an enraged Nami shoved another into his face.

Wait.

Sanji looked confusedly at the girl.

Another?

Sanji glanced at the poster and couldn’t believe his eyes — it was him.

Not Zoro, not Nami or Usopp, but him.

A deep, black shadow hid half his face, turned slightly away from whoever took the picture.

When did this happen? Sanji crumpled the unfortunate paper, realizing how badly he had screwed up with killing that rat captain. An adult man, and yet he hadn’t even considered the consequences. 

"Why the hell do you have a bounty poster now, while I still don’t? It’s unfair," Zoro grumbled, peering over Sanji's shoulder.

His tone didn’t suggest anger or rage; rather, it conveyed irritation with the situation and the general unfairness of the Marine system.

"Believe me, Marimo," Sanji sighed wearily, feeling every bit of his real age right now, "if there were a way, I’d gladly trade places with you... How could I have messed this up so badly, merciful gods," he muttered almost inaudibly, crumpling the poster in his fist.

He disliked it because it drew too much unwanted attention too early.

Fine if it were just the Marines or Bounty Hunters, but... Germa.

Germa and the cursed Vinsmoke family would learn that he was alive and well far earlier than they should — right when they were just about to enter the Grand Line. This was dangerous.

For the first time since regressing, Sanji faced the consequences of his actions, and he didn’t like them.

But there was nothing to be done; the poster was already out there, and Judge would soon (if not already) know about him.

Zoro pointed at the island their ship was slowly approaching. Sighing and shaking his head at his inability to examine the young Marimo’s wound all morning, Sanji approached Nami to raise a more pressing matter.

“Nami-san, before we go ashore, I’d like to ask for some money to buy provisions. I’ve already made a list of what we need according to our requirements and tastes,” Sanji chuckled at the last phrase, casting a soft glance at the impatiently bouncing Luffy.

“‘According to our requirements and tastes,’ huh?” Nami looked at him skeptically but nodded. She obviously didn’t want to part with her money, but this wasn’t for idle fun — it was for a good cause. “Alright, but you’ll return the remaining amount.”

“Of course,” Sanji obediently bowed. “Thank you.”

“Hey, Nami, I need money too!” Zoro chimed in, deciding to take advantage of the topic while it was open.

Recalling why Zoro needed the funds, Sanji quietly smiled.

Swords for Zoro were not merely weapons for battle but also his treasure and symbol of strength.

As soon as the river of memories carried him back to the scorched land after his Marimo’s death, Sanji grimaced bitterly.

Zoro’s swords were stolen after his death. Likely by whoever killed him. But even two years later, they never discovered who did it. And as far as Sanji knew, the swords never appeared on the black market.

The cold, forgotten over these eventful days, crept under his skin again with bony fingers, carving the word "Stranger" onto his bones.

Despite feeling calm and comfortable among his mini nakama, Sanji realized he didn’t belong here — not among the small Straw Hats, inexperienced, somewhat naive, and just beginning to understand the dangerous wide world.

But his egoism — no, Egoism — strangled such thoughts desperately and ruthlessly.

Not always successfully, of course. Even though he didn’t belong here, even though he was a Stranger both to the world and to the Straw Hats, he was here.

He breathed, walked, cooked — and that alone was enough for his Egoism to stay here instead of searching for a way back. But the main reason was, of course…

“Hey, cook, what’s got you frozen there?” Zoro shouted from the gangplank. “Get over here! We’re going ashore!”

“I’m coming!” Sanji called out, shaking his head and pushing aside inappropriate thoughts.

They arrived in Log Town, where they agreed on a meeting time and scattered in different directions.

Sanji quickly made his way to the shopping streets. Even knowing what was to come, Sanji understood there was no point in trying to change anything — whatever danger Luffy might be in, either Dragon-san or one of them would save him.

Besides, Nika wouldn’t let him die.

Skillfully and professionally bargaining in a fruit shop with an unfriendly seller, who gradually warmed up to their exchange, Sanji simultaneously thought about Nika and his influence on the life of the little captain.

Looking at Luffy’s entire journey until the last time Sanji saw him, he surprisingly and somewhat ironically realized that Nika must have been not only the God of the Sun but also the God of Luck.

Because Luffy was ridiculously lucky, constantly finding himself in situations where help always came or he somehow managed to escape trouble successfully, despite how impossible it seemed.

There was no chance to discuss this with Nika — he had taken control of Luffy’s body and “surfaced” for the last time shortly before the fall of Imu and the end of the war. Nearly twenty years had passed since then.

There was no point in thinking about it now anyway — Luffy’s body was simply not ready for the god’s awakening.

Another intriguing memory from wartime was meeting other gods and hearing their stories.

For example, Okuti no Makami, the wolf deity trapped in the Devil Fruit eaten by Yamato. Like most Mythical Zoans, Makami lost his human form due to the decline of his divine cult, but unlike most, he retained his consciousness. Such occurrences were incredibly rare — even the Phoenix hadn’t kept its consciousness and human form.

“Scoundrel!” the spice seller angrily shouted after him when Sanji scolded her for using substandard ingredients and quietly, threateningly warned her that if she continued her criminal activities, he would find her and…

Well, the woman was shaken. But clearly, it wasn’t enough, as she started hurling insults at his back.

Following his list strictly, Sanji finished his shopping in less than half an hour — everything necessary was bought, and what wasn’t found was skillfully replaced with something similar in taste and quality.

Returning to the Merry Go and leaving the groceries in the kitchen also didn’t take long. In the interim, Sanji wandered through the empty ship, nostalgically and tenderly inspecting the rooms like an old man.

Merry had stayed with them for a short time compared to Sunny, who endured the war alongside the crew, but she held just as dear a place in his heart.

Merry had witnessed the formation of the Straw Hats' core, their adjustments to each other, and the development of bonds that later grew into strong attachments.

Sanji cherished Merry Go just as much as Sunny, but for some reason, this brave little lamb evoked a lasting association with carefree youth filled with dangerous and exciting adventures.

Reaching the square with the gallows, Sanji found his little nakama anxiously watching Luffy and the clown Buggy nearby. Sanji stared thoughtfully at Buggy while simultaneously answering Nami-san’s complaints.

Their arrival at Laugh Tail and Luffy being declared King of the Pirates became the catalyst not only for the conflict between the Straw Hats and Cross Guild but also the declaration of war by Imu against the whole world, infamously named by her as the “Project Earth Purification.” Despite their resolved conflict ending in the Straw Hats’ victory, Buggy and Cross Guild played significant roles in the war. So now, it was best to treat this poorly acted comedy kindly.

Watching Nami-san and Usopp run back to the Going Merry, Sanji glanced at Zoro.

Marimo looked so serious, as if preparing to fight a truly formidable opponent. Though… Sanji jogged lightly after the boy dashing toward Luffy, barely touching the pirates of Alvida and Buggy. For him, the clown was indeed a serious threat…

He wasn’t in a hurry since he knew what would happen.

Therefore, when the blinding lightning struck the gallows, causing it to creak and collapse onto the square with the sound of well-cooked wood, Sanji stopped calmly, not even panting.

Exhaling smoke from a new, heavier cigarette that pleasantly settled in his lungs like sweet poison, he smirked when Luffy, as if nothing happened, picked up his hat and said:

“Shi-shi-shi, looks like I’m alive! Lucky me!”

And they ran back to the ship, skillfully weaving through crowds of gawkers and the storm specially summoned for Luffy. The pursuing Marine officers spurred them on faster, but their pursuit was abruptly halted by… Tashigi-chan!

Sanji ran past the collision between Zoro and the young and thus somewhat naive Tashigi-chan, glancing affectionately at her youthful face. How were his Tashigi-chan and Reiju doing? Oh, how he missed his dear sister, her wife, and the girls! Sanji adored his nieces, even though they weren’t related by blood.

Feeling the ache of longing for those he left behind, Sanji shook his head.

Tashigi wouldn’t meet Reiju for a long time yet, let alone their marriage and Reiju’s escape from Germa…

The next obstacle was Smoker. Thinking about and remembering what Smoker became after the structural changes in the government post-war wasn’t something Sanji wanted to dwell on, as there was something far more important — ensuring Smoker didn’t catch Luffy before Dragon-san arrived.

“What-” Smoker growled in irritation when Sanji blocked the lunging smoke with a leg imbued with Armament Haki, which improved every time it adapted his body to its use.

“I hate Logias,” Sanji grumbled like an old man, kicking the stunned Smoker aside but not intending to cause him any real harm. “Run, Luffy! We need to get back to the ship! Zoro!” Sanji waved to attract the attention of the running Marimo, unexpectedly not lost on the way. Maybe it was due to the extreme situation?

Glancing briefly back, Sanji saw the chase ended by a cloaked figure revealed to be none other than Monkey D. Dragon. What a wonderful outcome of the war for him!

Jumping aboard the Merry Go, Sanji caught his breath. Finally, this chase was over! He was too old for such adventures…

Glancing at the lighthouse Nami-san indicated, Sanji remembered what he had to do.

Softly smiling, knowing he’d relive this legendary and truly thrilling moment again, Sanji placed a barrel of water in the center of the Going Merry deck.

“Well, let’s set this ship out into the great ocean,” he loudly proclaimed, placing his foot on the barrel and speaking clearly and confidently: “I will find All Blue and become happy!” Saying the last word, Sanji glanced at Zoro and shuddered.

Zoro was looking back at him.

His golden eyes were slightly widened, and his gaze, steady, slightly frowning, yet inexplicably gentle, brimming with fragile attachment, warmed Sanji’s rapidly thumping heart in an instant.

Chuckling at Luffy’s furious shout, Zoro placed his foot on the barrel too, loudly declaring to himself and the whole world:

“I will become the greatest swordsman!”

He would.

But Sanji wouldn’t let himself let go of him anymore.

A little about the time frame in fic:

The war against the World Government will begin three years from the current point in the narrative (Time Skip + one year of sailing to Laugh Tale), and will LAST for six years.  

Previously, Sanji (in his monologue about the fishmen) added another 6–8 years, as he accounted for the time required for nations to fully recover.  

THAT MEANS the war starts when Sanji is 22 years old and ends when he is 28 years old (+6 years needed to restore the world after the war, meaning he would be 34 by that point).  

Sanji was transported through time to the age of 47, which is 19 years after the war ended.

And Sanji's bounty poster, which I drew a year ago, so I don't like it anymore, but let it be, it was not in vain that I drew

Chapter Text

Sanji had tried many times to understand why his heart had chosen someone like Roronoa Zoro.

A rough and uncouth man who didn't appreciate feminine beauty and preferred alcohol over pleasant company.

It seemed to him like a mockery by the Universe, a cruel joke played by the gods that still lingered among the living (even though he knew they didn't care about him at all).

He could have loved Nami-san. That love would have been painful but predictable, with a foreseeable outcome. He would have sighed as he watched her kiss lips that weren’t his. He would have dreamed of her embrace, her gentle whispers, and the warmth in her eyes. He would have made an effort to spend more time in her company (and the company of her wife) and showered her adorable daughter with gifts.

He could have loved Robin-chan. His love for her would have been a veneration of her wisdom, strength, and knowledge hidden in the depths of her brown eyes. He would have loved her as fans love celebrities — with the understanding that their feelings would never be reciprocated, as they came from completely different worlds. But this love would have warmed him inside, filling his rebellious heart with life.

If not for a woman, he could have loved Luffy. It’s easy to love him; it’s easy to hate him — there are no ambiguous tones or shadows in his relationships. Loving Luffy would have been simple, without pain or suffering, without the fear of rejection. Luffy is like the Sun, and in its rays, Sanji found refuge for his soul.

There were many, indeed many people he could have loved. Some of them would surely have returned his affection, albeit not out of genuine feeling.

But his heart, cruel and unyielding, desired to lay on the altar of love a cold, rough, sharp swordsman, a caring and perceptive nakama, the most handsome man.

Roronoa Zoro.

"I see the greatest ocean in the world — the Grand Line!" the excited cry of the young captain breaks Sanji out of his deep thoughts. "Forward!"

Hardly had Luffy finished speaking when Laboon's cry reached them.

Sanji smiled softly, recalling his memories, rolling a cigarette in his mouth. Laboon and Brook's reunion was one of the most touching scenes he had ever witnessed. The meeting of old friends, a celebration, and Laboon's joyful cry, accompanied by "Sake Bins," was unforgettable.

Leaping lightly onto the deck after giving a warm glance at the Marimo who had noticed a strange sound, Sanji calmly pointed ahead where, beyond the mist, a huge whale awaited them, its cry momentarily deafening everyone.

The ensuing commotion after discovering the unexpected obstacle blocking their path passed Sanji by.

Despite the somewhat successful attempts by the crew to steer around Laboon, Luffy ended up firing at the whale from the cannon.

Then, when they finally emerged through a small passage, the enraged captain struck Laboon.

Watching the emotional distress of the younger nakama due to the captain's actions, Sanji felt a slight nostalgia. How emotional he had been in his youth.

Laboon opened his mouth, sucking in water along with ship, which remained behind, except for the "escaped" Luffy.

The ship crashed with a loud bang onto what resembled a sea formed over the decades. In front of them was the island of the old man Crocus, but the old man himself was nowhere to be seen yet.

"Any ideas?" Nami whispered, looking forward.

"Ideas?" Zoro asked hoarsely.

"The whale is so big. It's no wonder there are islands and seas inside it. Who knows what it has swallowed during its long life," Sanji replied, smiling peacefully as he lit another cigarette.

He didn’t share the stress of the younger nakama, remaining in a calm, serene mood.

"You think we’re just inside a whale?" Nami nervously exclaimed, a bit sharply.

"Why not?" Sanji shrugged, biting his tongue to avoid adding, "We’ve seen stranger things." They would encounter countless giant creatures and beings on their journey, making Laboon seem like a baby in comparison.

"Like this?" Zoro pointed at the giant squid that appeared.

"A giant squid!" Nami and Usopp cried in fright.

Moments later, the squid was impaled by several harpoons. Watching as the dead body was dragged to the island, Sanji calculated how many delicious dishes he could prepare from such a large squid. It would last for a couple of days. But Crocus, the old man, wouldn’t likely share his catch.

"Look," he nodded toward the silhouette appearing at the door of the house. "Someone came out."

"Is that a flower?" Zoro muttered in confusion as the old man stepped into the light.

Crocus, tightly gripping the ropes of the harpoons, effortlessly pulled the squid carcass onto the island, ignoring the curious glances of the unexpected guests. He then calmly sat on a lounge chair, opening a newspaper.

"Hello, we're the Straw Hat Pirates, my name is Sanji. Could you tell us how we can get out of here?" Sanji smiled politely, feeling none of the irritation he used to feel.

He knew about the exit and had spotted it a few minutes ago, but the others hadn't.

"Hmm," Crocus turned his attention to them, "My name is Crocus. I'm the lighthouse keeper, 71 years old, my zodiac sign is Gemini."

"Pleased to meet you," Sanji nodded, gently squeezing Zoro's shoulder to prevent any rash actions from the irritated Marimo. "What about the exit?"

"It's over there," Crocus pointed at the iron doors.

The little nakama began discussing the exit, the drawn clouds, and birds hanging in the air.

For them, these were strange, mysterious, and somewhat frightening things. Lacking experience in traveling, they were blank pages onto which each new adventure left vivid impressions.

Sanji wished he could relive it all again, but now he understood it was a mistake.

It was a bit melancholic, and for a moment, he wanted to go home.

Fortunately, he was distracted from his gloomy, elderly reflections by Laboon's new attempts to ram his head against the Red Line mountains.

One divine chosen one would eventually destroy the Red Line during the final battle that ended the bloody war, creating a unified ocean called All Blue.

For now, this divine chosen one was just a carefree boy, unaware of the great adventures, world-changing events, and devastating losses that awaited him.

"Oh, are you all alive?" Luffy shouted, emerging from the small exit door along with Vivi and Mr. Nine. "By the way, save me."

Sanji, rolling a cigarette in his mouth, quickly jumped up and caught the little captain mid-air.

Ignoring the pain from his unhealed feet, he leaped onto the deck in a few bounds with Luffy in his arms.

The captain, holding onto his neck, exhaled loudly, his eyes wide open:

"Ouch, that was dangerous. Thanks, Sanji!" he added, settling on the deck.

—"Always at your service, captain," Sanji smiled before jumping into the water to rescue Vivi and Mr. Nine.

Gently lifting the disoriented but conscious Vivi by the waist and casually grabbing the water-soaked Mr. Nine by his jacket collar, Sanji surfaced. After a while, they were all dry on the deck of Merry.

Sliding off his heavy coat and tossing it over the rail, Sanji ruffled his hair, which was starting to curl slightly at the tips. He missed his long, thick wavy hair and decided to grow it out. Tucking his hair behind his ears so it wouldn’t get in the way, he rolled up his sleeves.

Surveying the crew, most of whom were watching the newcomers come to their senses, Sanji caught Zoro's gaze directed at him.

Winking at the blushing boy who immediately looked away, Sanji chuckled amusedly. He would never tire of doing this.

"Are those two still alive?" Crocus' angry voice reached them as he stopped at the exit door. "As long as I live, Laboon won't belong to them!"

Vivi and Mr. Nine began to stand up, raising their cannons along with them.

Not wanting to witness the unfortunate whale suffer any more than usual, Sanji swiftly kicked the cannons out of their hands. He acted quickly, sharply, but gently enough not to hurt Vivi-chan's delicate hands.

The cannons fell into the sea with a dull thud.

"What- You bastard! We’ll kill this whale anyway!" Vivi-chan angrily shouted a few seconds later, realizing what Sanji had done.

"No, you won't," Sanji said coldly, tilting his head. The girl paled and shuddered. "Now, allow me to tie you both up," he added just as amiably and welcomingly.

In this state — tightly bound together — they were taken to the island where the old man Crocus had also arrived. He started telling them about Laboon and how his meat could feed Whiskey Peak for a couple of years.

The whale's story was sad, but Sanji, unlike the crew and Crocus, knew the true story of what happened to the crew, directly from one of the crew members.

After finishing his tale, Crocus, nonetheless, helped them escape through the underwater tunnel he had built inside the whale for its treatment. It sounded strange and illogical, but it really worked. The scale of it was impressive, and Crocus's efforts truly inspired admiration.

They moved to the lighthouse, but before that, they threw Vivi-chan and Mr. Nine into the ocean.

Sanji thoughtfully smoked, sitting at the common table, while the others continued listening to Crocus's tale about Laboon's unfortunate fate.

Loyal, faithful to his companions, abandoned by them. Drowning in sorrow and longing for a reunion. This whale had endured too much human suffering.

"You're not interested?" Zoro smirked, leaning towards him.

"Hmm?" Sanji blinked, turning his attention to the little Marimo. Smiling softly, a bit like an elderly person, he shook his head. Some stray curls, curling at the ends, brushed against his cheeks. "Yes, I’m very interested. And I’m listening attentively. Something you should do too."

Zoro rolled his eyes and returned his attention to Crocus, tugging Sanji's pant leg playfully like a child.

They were sitting next to each other, Zoro on a stool and Sanji on the thick tabletop. Sending the boy a teasing, affectionate look, Sanji chuckled.

"…We may have some strange relationships, but fifty years have passed. I’m not going to watch him destroy himself," Crocus concluded his speech with a heavy sigh.

And then something happened that nobody expected.

Breaking Merry Go’s mast, Luffy ran to Laboon and climbed onto its nose, inserting the broken end of the mast into Laboon’s thick skin, piercing it rapidly. Laboon roared in pain, and Sanji and Crocus were furious at Luffy.

The brief "fight" between the little captain and the whale ended with a loud cry:

"Draw! I’m strong, right?" Luffy added smugly. "You want to beat me, don’t you? Our fight isn’t over. Someday we’ll continue our battle. Your nakama might be dead, but from now on, I’m your opponent! When we sail the entire Grand Line, I’ll return!" Luffy promised.

And he will return. 

Chapter Text

Chuckling softly at Luffy's straightforwardness — the same blunt approach he took to resolving situations of any kind, whether at seventeen or forty — Sanji readjusted his grip on the filleting knife he'd brought from the Merry Go for cutting elephant tuna.

The knives they'd bought in Loguetown weren't bad by any means, certainly not the worst he'd ever used, but still significantly inferior to the ones he'd wielded while cooking on the Amour Infini. Of course, those had cost a small fortune, which they couldn't afford now.

Shaking his head, Sanji blew a stray strand of hair from his face.

It was strange, but in the few days he'd been here, his hair had grown faster than it had in his original timeline.

Whether this was because he'd been pushing his body harder lately, forcing it to operate beyond its physical limits, Sanji wasn't sure.

But he suspected it was true — such intense strain was slowly, steadily awakening the blood of Germa.

The lighthouse keeper's cottage had a small, rather old kitchen, clearly designed for just one person.

And that's exactly how it would have been, if Zoro hadn't suddenly insisted on joining him.

"I won't get in the way. I promise," Zoro said quietly, with a hint of stubbornness, when Sanji stared at him in surprise and disbelief after the swordsman requested to stay in the kitchen during cooking.

"Then you'll be in charge of protecting us from the captain's attacks," Sanji laughed, reasonably assuming that the moss-head just wanted to escape the forced labor on the Going Merry, which Usopp would surely have roped him into, rather than genuinely wanting to spend time with him.

Still, he wanted to fool himself just a little. Just a tiny bit.

The old stove was giving everything it had. It seemed like it hadn't been used in ages, and the elderly appliance, thrilled that someone had finally remembered her, was doing it best.

The fire hungrily licked the pans and pots, over which Sanji flitted, stirring and flipping the food.

The aroma clinging to the stone walls of the kitchen was incredible.

Zoro sat on the floor, leaning against the wall near the open door.

There were no chairs or table in the kitchen — just the stove and a couple of worn-out cabinets.

Relaxed, eyes closed, arms crossed over his chest, he looked like he was dozing, but Sanji occasionally felt the weight of his attentive gaze on his back, vanishing the moment he turned around.

Besides the kitchen, the cottage contained a toilet and a combined bedroom, living room, and dining area, featuring a sad-looking iron bed, a clothes wardrobe, a table, and a single chair.

Perfect, in short, for a solitary life.

"Hey, Marimo-chan," Sanji called as lunch preparation neared its end, with only a few final touches remaining.

Turning, Sanji met the clear, alert golden eyes of Zoro — completely free of sleepiness, sharp and aware. So he hadn't been asleep after all, the little asshole.

"You want a couple of fish pieces?"

"What's the catch?" Zoro asked suspiciously, narrowing his eyes as he swiftly stood up.

The mere thought of food cooked by the cook awakened an incredible hunger — something he'd never known before meeting the eyebrow freak.

Zoro could go days without eating and never considered himself a picky gourmet. He’d eaten raw, rotten, dried-out food, and it had been fine.

But ever since that moment on Cocoyasi, his taste buds had gone completely wild.

Zoro was certain now that any other food would taste bland, bitter, and utterly unappetizing.

"What kind of person do you take me for?" Sanji muttered, offended, picking up two breaded fish fillets with chopsticks and offering them to Zoro.

The swordsman shifted his unimpressed gaze from the fish — looking like a culinary masterpiece in its crisp, golden breading — to the cook.

Sanji sighed, caught in the act:

"Alright, the catch is exactly this. But if you don't want it, I-"

Before Sanji could hand over the chopsticks, Zoro grabbed his slender wrist and, leaning forward, swiftly plucked both pieces of fish from the grip of the utensils with his lips.

But instead of immediately straightening up and chewing, Zoro provocatively licked the chopsticks.

His tongue slid slowly between them, caressing them deliberately before disappearing.

The breading crunched between his teeth, and the tender flesh burst with a sweet-sour juice.

Zoro closed his eyes for a brief moment. Perfect.

Sanji stared, wide-eyed, at the now-standing youth.

What kind of kids these days — what a horror!

He couldn't believe that someone with over nineteen years of sexual experience like himself had been flustered by such a bold move from a mere boy. Yes, his beloved boy, but still!

This seriously wounded his "ladies' man" pride.

Noticing Sanji's stunned confusion, Zoro smirked smugly.

Usually, it was Sanji who embarrassed him with compliments and what Roronoa considered inappropriate attention and gestures.

But now, he had flustered the cook, and seeing the tips of Sanji's ears turn red, his single visible blue eye widen, and his unruly eyebrow twitch nervously was surprisingly amusing.

"...It's delicious. I can't wait to try your other dishes," Sanji heard, belatedly.

Zoro smiled calmly, hands tucked into his trouser pockets.

He looked satisfied with himself, like a tiny gremlin, but instead of chasing him out of the kitchen for making him blush, Sanji just shook his head.

He wouldn't treat Marimo the way he used to in his own youth.

He wasn't nineteen anymore, acting on impulse and without thought. For him, the phrase "everything lies ahead" no longer applied, however paradoxical that sounded in his current situation.

Sanji was an old, weary man, tired of romantic suffering.

"If you don't want me to pin you against the wall and kiss you, don't do that again. You don't need it, and I don't have much self-control," Sanji muttered tiredly, rubbing his temple before turning away and lifting the last pan off the stove. "Go tell everyone lunch is ready."

"I understand," Zoro mumbled, suddenly deflating as he realized what he'd done.

He'd only meant to tease the cook, who so obviously liked him, but instead had ended up hurting his feelings.

The joke had been funny, but now it left a faintly bitter aftertaste.

After standing there for just under a minute, Zoro stepped out.

Sanji, knowing full well there was no point in being angry or upset with the boy over such a stunt, returned to the dishes.

A short while later, having finished the final touches, he picked up several plates, skillfully balancing them on his arms, and slipped out of the cottage directly onto the open area in front.

Where his crew and old man Crocus were already seated around the table.

"It smells so good!" Nami cooed, gratefully accepting the baked fish and vegetables placed before her.

The tuna meat was infused with an incredibly flavorful spicy sauce, unfolding in her mouth with a surprising blend of seasonings, herbs, and something slightly tangy. The acidity didn't overpower — it only enhanced the sauce, gently coating the fish. The roasted vegetables burst with natural juice upon biting, their refreshing crispness cleansing the palate after the bold flavors of the fish.

"Oh, gods," the girl moaned in delight, rolling her eyes.

Glancing at her, Sanji chuckled softly, placing the last plate in front of Crocus, who suspiciously shifted his gaze from the children — moaning audibly in pleasure as they ate — over to Sanji, who had stopped beside him.

"Are you really that good?" the old man mused with a chuckle.

"Without false modesty, I can say yes. That good," Sanji replied confidently.

And when Crocus closed his eyes after putting the first bite of fish into his mouth, visibly shuddering as he exhaled sharply, Sanji smirked.

He wasn't just cooking well — he was cooking magnificently.

"Luffy, I'll bring you more food in a moment. Please don't steal Zoro's fish, okay?" said Sanji. 

"M'kay," the little captain mumbled, disgruntled and unintelligible, reluctantly pulling away from Zoro, who clutched his plate of fish and rice protectively to his chest.

Sanji had indeed prepared a large amount of food, though the base ingredient was the same — elephant tuna.

His experience and skill allowed him to present the fish in various interpretations, each completely different in flavor. After all, fish is fish, whether boiled or fried — yet Sanji had proven that wasn't true at all.

Bringing out the remaining plates — enough for another fifteen people — and arranging them on the table, Sanji looked over his young nakama, still so green, innocent, and weak, and made a decision.

Now was the time.

"After you finish eating, I'd like to discuss something with you," Sanji said, smiling in response to Luffy's questioning look.

He lit a cigarette and stepped slightly away from the crew and the old man, giving them time to enjoy their meal.

He never ate with the others.

It was a habit that might seem strange, even rude, toward the crew. But Sanji always ate his fill while cooking, and forcing himself to eat alongside them felt foolish.

At least, that's the reason he'd found for himself. He dined late at night, after preparing breakfast ingredients, and had breakfast before everyone else sat down. Such was his cook's routine.

Lost in thoughts about cooking, Sanji missed the beginning of the conversation about Log Poses.

Still, he didn't learn anything new, except perhaps with surprise realizing that Nami-san was truly just like the others — a young, inexperienced girl, knowing little about the terrifying, dreadful world they'd entered.

A sharp pang of longing for his Nami-san pierced his heart like a needle.

His attachment to this naive girl still had to replace the love and loyalty Sanji felt toward his own crew — the crew of the Pirate King.

But he doubted whether that was even possible, given how desperately he clung to his past.

"Nami-san, please don't," Sanji said gently, catching the girl's fist mid-swing as she raised it to hit Luffy. He lightly touched the air above her palm. "Let's just be glad our captain is remarkably lucky, alright?"

"Ugh, fine, fine," the girl grumbled, rolling her eyes irritably as she snatched the Log Pose from Luffy's mouth, where he'd been chewing on the elephant tuna's trunk.

Approaching the captain, Sanji smiled and glanced at Crocus, who was explaining the function of the Log Pose.

Placing his hands on the narrow, sharp shoulders of Luffy, who happily leaned back against him, Sanji listened to the old man's words with a touch of nostalgia.

That bugger — never mentioned, not even a word, that he'd been a doctor in Gol D. Roger's crew.

"...All the routes point in one direction. And they all lead to one island... Raftel," the old man continued, his expression serious.

Sanji grimaced, rolling a fresh cigarette in his mouth.

The unfamiliar, even forgotten name "Raftel" grated harshly on his ears.

Accustomed to another name for the island, he almost corrected Crocus, but caught himself just in time. The public knows it by this name.

And he mustn't stand out. At least, not now, and not for the next several years. But it turned out to be surprisingly difficult — hiding how much he actually knew.

After all the nakama finished their meal, Sanji gently cleared his throat to get their attention. Looking each of them in the eye, he began:

"We all understand that the Grand Line is a dangerous place. On our journey toward fulfilling our dreams, we'll face many strong and powerful opponents — some of whom will undoubtedly surpass us in skill and battle experience," he started cautiously. "My father taught me many things. He shared valuable knowledge with me, which I now want to share with you."

"What are you talking about?" Zoro scoffed skeptically, crossing his arms. "What could you, a cook, possibly teach us?"

Sanji smiled calmly.

"As much as it might bruise your ego, Marimo, I really do know more than you," he continued, without a trace of sarcasm, irritation, or arrogance. "I want to tell you about Haki — the power capable of drastically shifting the tide of battle in your favor."

"You know about Haki?" Crocus suddenly perked up, studying Sanji with renewed, deeper interest. "Who's your father?"

"My father is 'Red Leg' Zeff. He no longer bears that name, but he became famous with it," Sanji replied confidently, nodding with pride for his adoptive father, silently apologizing to him for using his name to justify his own knowledge. "And yes, thanks to him, I not only know about Haki — I possess two of its types. Unfortunately, the Supreme King Haki has not yet yielded to me."

Unlike Zoro.

Marimo had awakened it, as far as Sanji remembered, on Wano, and began using it actively soon after — during the war against the World Government.

Not that Sanji envied him; by that time, Sanji had already awakened the blood of Germa, and the Supreme King Haki of the moss-head simply didn't matter to him.

"Two types?" the old man raised his eyebrows in surprise. "Are you really that strong?"

"Strong enough, at least, to decide to teach others how to use it," Sanji said, flattered. "But before I begin training and a basic demonstration, allow me to explain what Haki actually is. Besides the Supreme King Haki, there's Observation Haki and Armament Haki..."

Slowly and thoroughly, Sanji explained to the children the essence of these "magical," yet undeniably useful forces.

Whenever Luffy started to drift off, Sanji gently patted the boy's shoulders or tickled him, drawing his scattered attention back.

He spoke about the types of Observation Haki, and the ability to coat weapons with Armament Haki.

The latter particularly caught Zoro's interest — seeing the hungry glint in the swordsman's eyes, Sanji smiled faintly. How predictable he was.

"Now, for the demonstration. I'll start with Armament Haki," Sanji continued cheerfully, stepping with the crew away from the house and lighthouse, moving closer to the cliff's edge.

Carefully rolling up his pant leg, he warned, "Please be careful." After saturating his leg with Haki up to the knee, he drew their attention to the changed skin color. "At first, you won't see any visible changes — that's normal. And now..."

Swinging his leg, Sanji swiftly brought the heel of his shoe down onto a section of the cliff.

Instantly, the rock cracked and shattered.

Large and small fragments tumbled down the slope with a deafening crash, splashing into the water below and sending up sprays of droplets.

"Whoa!" Usopp exclaimed, excited yet slightly frightened. "Wait, hold on! Luffy!" he shrieked next, catching sight of the hat falling into the water after its owner, who'd ignored Sanji's warning about the danger of falling off the cliff.

"What an idiot," Zoro grumbled, rolling his eyes as he jumped into the water after him.

Sanji sighed wearily, straightening his pants.

He'd hoped the scene with someone falling into the water wouldn't repeat itself. After all, they hadn't broken the Log Pose Luffy had taken from Vivi-chan and her partner.

But apparently, even with determined efforts to change the course of events, some things were destined to happen anyway.

All Sanji could do was surrender to Fate and go with the flow of time.

A flow that led him back to the same moment he'd experienced in the past.

Vivi-chan and Mr. Nine, encountered by Luffy and Zoro after surfacing near the lighthouse, begged them to escort them to Whisky Peak.

Luffy, ever the kind-hearted soul, agreed without hesitation, not even considering the reasons that had driven his opponents to this plea or the possible consequences of his decision.

The crew could do nothing but sigh heavily and shake their heads at their captain's characteristic impulsiveness.

Meanwhile, the Going Merry set sail.

It was a quick sketch, but I really liked it, so here it is🤭

Chapter Text

"Are you sure, Sanji?" Usopp muttered with some doubt, nervously shifting his gaze from the cook, who had covered his eyes with a handkerchief and was standing by the mast, to Zoro, who was tossing kitchen knives into the air. "Maybe there’s another way to demonstrate Observation Haki?"

Sanji had gathered them on deck some time after they set sail to show how Observation Haki worked.

They didn’t have tennis balls, and other objects just weren’t significant enough. Besides, Sanji was confident in his abilities and suggested that Zoro use knives.

He chose Marimo because he knew exactly what to do.

"Under our circumstances — this is the only way. Don’t worry, I’ll be fine," Sanji warmly smiled, touched by his nakama’s concern.

He had no doubts about his skills, nor did he doubt that mini Marimo, at his current power level, wouldn’t harm him (and neither would most of the crew, except maybe Luffy).

"Go ahead, Zoro."

Tossing a knife into the air, Zoro snorted.

The cook was too cocky, something he’d demonstrated more than once in their interactions and during previous encounters with the marine and fishmen.

On one hand, it irritated him — Zoro wanted to knock him down a peg or two. But on the other… His confidence wasn’t baseless. There was strength in him. An inner core, surprising to find in such a seemingly delicate body.

Such ambivalence in his thoughts toward people was unusual for Zoro.

In his world, there were only opponents, nakama, and forced companions. No gray areas. And realizing this annoyed him.

Gripping the knife handle more comfortably, Zoro swung his arm back and, without holding back (in case the cook didn’t dodge), forcefully threw the knife in his direction.

Nami and Usopp screamed and clung to each other in horror as they watched the sharp blade of the knife slip between two of Sanji’s fingers, stopping just a few centimeters from his face.

Letting out a loud breath, they collapsed onto each other, exhausted. It had been too nerve-wracking.

Luffy clapped loudly, jumping up and down in excitement.

He couldn’t stop repeating how cool Sanji was. The food he cooked, his agility, speed, intelligence, and the way he fought — it was all simply incredible.

And every time, it involuntarily brought back memories of his brother, whom he admired just as much. Sanji reminded him so much of Ace…

Vivi, sitting at a distance from the crazy pirate crew entertaining themselves on deck, thought absently about how tired she was.

The unbearable weight pressing down on her head like a heated ring was destroying her from within. She was tired of carrying the burden of knowledge, tired of pretending, tired of running somewhere.

Startled when the Mugiwara crew cried out, Vivi turned her attention to their cook.

He frightened her. Despite seeming friendly, gallant, and absolutely harmless, Vivi couldn’t forget the chilling cold in his eyes. Boys her age didn’t look at others like that. That’s how experienced, cruel, and ruthless pirates looked — people who didn’t throw words to the wind. She didn’t want to be near him, especially not alone.

"Good," Sanji smiled, adjusting his grip on the knife and placing it next to him on the deck. "You saw me catch the knife, but in reality, using Observation Haki, I felt its approach. That’s the main aspect of this skill at its initial stage — sensing movements directed at you. Now, Zoro, try throwing the remaining two at the same time, but along different trajectories."

Zoro rolled his shoulders.

He wouldn’t admit it to anyone, but his heart clenched slightly when he saw the cook catch the knife just a few centimeters from his face.

So effortlessly, as if it weren’t a sharp blade capable of piercing his head, but a paper airplane. Show-off.

Throwing one knife toward his right shoulder, and moments later, the second toward his left thigh, Zoro acted.

Sanji didn’t wait for the knives to reach him. Leaning forward slightly and dodging left, he caught the first mid-air and used it to sharply deflect the second. The second knife clattered onto the deck.

Straightening up, Sanji pulled the handkerchief off his eyes with his free hand.

Slightly squinting against the light of the setting sun, which painted the horizon crimson and the dark calm waters, he bowed to his young nakama and grinned cheerfully:

"That was an impressive demonstration to show you, above all, how useful Observation Haki can be," Sanji picked up the knives. "I dare say, for you," he addressed the approaching Usopp and Nami, "mastering Observation Haki is now your top priority. The Grand Line is dangerous, especially for those who can’t defend themselves or avoid clashes."

Usopp stubbornly raised his chin.

Though the skill Sanji had demonstrated was impressive, such remarks, sounding like criticism of his abilities, stung the young man. Who cared what he recommended! Usopp managed just fine without this "Haki." Crossing his arms over his chest, he grumbled:

"I don’t need any ‘Haki’ to defeat my enemies! I am the Great Sea Warrior, Usopp-sama!" he declared, lifting his nose proudly.

Sanji, holding the knives in one hand and the silk handkerchief he’d acquired in his actual youth in the other, stared at Usopp in bewildered surprise.

His visible eye widened slightly as he processed what had just happened. For a moment, it seemed absurd that a boy nearly thirty years younger than him would resist his advice and recommendations. His, the cook of the Pirate King, one of the legendary Four Monsters of the Mugiwara crew.

But then Sanji lowered his head, and instead of wavy blonde strands streaked with soft gray falling onto his shoulders, he sighed in confusion, snapping back to reality.

Right, he had forgotten.

He’d slipped into the familiar mindset of mentorship. He wasn’t forty-seven anymore; he was nineteen again. He was just as much a boy as the kids surrounding him now. That’s why Usopp had taken his remark so defensively.

"Ah, I didn’t mean to offend you, Usopp, not at all. It was a misunderstanding," Sanji raised his hands, smiling apologetically. "I just meant that mastering Haki sooner rather than later will come in handy. I respect your skills and admire them, truly," he continued sincerely, without joking. "And Observation Haki, and later Armament Haki, will become a pleasant trick for you and an unexpected move for your opponents. That’s all. Peace?" Sanji extended his hand to the boy, having casually tossed the handkerchief over his shoulder.

"Hmph," Usopp grunted. Sanji was so good, sensitive, understanding. It was impressive, but sometimes — annoying. Doesn’t he think he’s forty or something? What kind of talk is this… "Alright, peace. I understand what you meant," he nodded importantly, shaking the offered hand.

"Good, I’m glad we resolved this. I’m heading to prepare dinner now, and afterward, we’ll train. I’ll show you where to start and how to organize training most effectively under our conditions," Sanji smiled happily. "What do you want for dinner?"

Predictable requests for dishes immediately flew in from the nakama. But when Sanji glanced at Zoro, lounging by the railing, Marimo suddenly said something unexpected without opening his eyes:

"Anything."

"Even something sweet?" Sanji smirked softly, knowing the boy disliked sweet dishes.

"Whatever you make will be great. So it doesn’t matter to me what I eat, as long as you made it," Zoro shrugged and fell silent.

Sanji smiled tenderly but with a hint of sadness.

How he would have loved to hear those words from his Marimo in the past. His grumpy, secretive, and distant Marimo, for whom sharing feelings was like losing a battle. Sanji only remembered Roronoa Zoro that way.

And now, hearing similar words from mini Zoro, his heart was pierced by a deep nostalgia.

Shaking his head, he disappeared into the galley, where he busied himself with what calmed, centered, relaxed, and entertained him simultaneously.

The evening gently descended onto the deck of Going Merry, heading toward Whiskey Peak, "home" to two involuntary strange travelers of the Mugiwara crew.

The sky, awash with pure starry blue, was kind to the young adventurers, not sending them trials at the very start of their long journey.

"Sa-anji," whined the captain, peeking into the galley less than half an hour after the cook had gone to prepare dinner. "I’m hu-ungry."

Monkey D. quickly approached the table laden with appetizing-looking preparations for future dishes.

Raw meat waiting its turn, pieces of fresh vegetables, sauces — everything begged to be nibbled, licked, tasted.

But before he reached out to grab something, Sanji turned to him and calmly, without irritation at the captain’s behavior, smiled:

"No," Luffy dejectedly lowered his hand, and Sanji laughed affectionately, fully turning around and handing the boy a deep, wide dish resembling more of a medium-sized basin: "I prepared a snack specifically for you to distract you from the agonizing wait."

The dish was filled with pan-fried chicken pieces coated in butter and spices, creating an amazing, vivid aroma that made you want to inhale it greedily several times. The harmony of the spices was so striking that it left a clear impression on the palate and, of course, in memory.

Flicking the boy’s nose, Sanji let him go, watching him happily hop away with his "basin" full of meat.

Feeding the captain was never difficult — he ate everything he was given. In the past, Sanji hadn’t given much thought to what to feed him. But now, possessing skills and knowledge for which his younger self would have killed, he wanted to spoil Luffy. He was old and weak…

Whistling a catchy tune he didn’t remember hearing (now or in the future), Sanji moved around the galley of Merry Go, stirring, flipping, slicing, and mixing.

His work was methodical, honed over decades of cooking, and thus caused no difficulties or heavy mental calculations.

"Sanji-kun," purred a soft, ringing voice as Sanji turned away from the door. "Luffy said you prepared a snack specifically for him," Nami stopped at the entrance, watching the cook intently. "Of course, I’m not saying anything, but it’s a little hurtful…" the girl’s thin, sensual voice sounded offended and upset.

Sanji didn’t believe a single note of that voice. He loved it and was ready to listen to it every day, but he never believed it.

"How could I possibly treat you that way?" Sanji gently smirked, turning around and offering the girl a plate of fruit pieces — no oranges among them — drizzled with honey, sprinkled with chocolate powder, and topped with ricotta cheese. "Here you go. Specifically for you, to brighten your wait. Please invite Usopp and Zoro right away so they don’t distract me later."

Nami gazed at Sanji in awe, switching her admiration from the neatly arranged apple, pear, and nectarine slices, glistening with a thin layer of hardened honey and looking like glass toys, to Sanji himself.

He cooked better than any chefs from expensive restaurants she’d encountered during her travels. And Nami was ready to kill for his food — it was that magnificent.

"Thank you, Sanji-kun," Nami kissed the cook on the cheek and added before leaving: "I’ll let them know."

There was no need to wait for Usopp. The boy burst into the galley less than a minute later.

Sanji was already waiting with a plate neatly arranged with bruschettas topped with fish, bacon, and sun-dried vegetables on ricotta cheese, sprinkled with dried herbs. The ricotta covering the bruschettas prevented the vegetable juices from soaking into the bread. The fried bacon wrapped around the fish enhanced the natural aroma of the fish pieces, complementing it with its own flavor infused with aromatic herbs.

Usopp accepted the plate of appetizers with delight.

Food prepared by Sanji not only looked exquisite but also tasted just as good. Every time he tried dishes made by him, Usopp ascended to heaven for several long moments. His body trembled with awe, and his heart tightened with overwhelming pleasure filling every cell.

Thanking the cook, Usopp dashed out of the galley, clutching the plate to his chest like a precious treasure.

Sanji placed the remaining snacks on the table and, while dinner sizzled on the skillet and simmered in the pot, sat down.

Rolling the cigarette in his mouth, he tilted his head, lazily pondering the future. Their scariest opponent in the near future would be sir Crocodile and his agent-officers.

How could he now think of Mr. 0 without the shadow of the mystery they uncovered?

Shaking his head, Sanji chuckled as he stubbed out his cigarette.

He didn’t know if there was any point in revealing to Crocodile the fact of his close kinship with Luffy. It’s unlikely he’d stop his criminal activities in Alabasta because of it, seriously.

But maybe it would soften him somehow? Their first meeting in seventeen years with his son, after all…*

"Hmm…" Sanji exhaled and looked up as the door opened again. "I’ve been waiting for you," he smiled softly as Zoro appeared in the doorway. "Here are your onigiri," he nudged the plate with three large sesame-topped rice balls toward him.

Zoro took one and took a big bite. His eyes closed, and he froze for several long seconds.

Fish and rice. It seemed impossible to ruin or improve their taste. But, not for the first time, Zoro was amazed at how delicious such a simple dish turned out under the cook’s hands. Opening his eyes, he looked down at Sanji with gratitude and satisfaction:

"Thank you," his voice was quiet, barely tinged with warmth.

"For you, anything," Sanji smiled tenderly, allowing himself to let out a bit of his affection and love for this boy. When Marimo frowned cautiously, he added in his usual tone: "Tell the others I’ll call them when dinner’s ready."

After dinner, he planned to focus on preparing them for the upcoming battles.

*My favorite theory. Who am I not to shove it here?😏 So yes, Crocodile is Luffy's mother, but he changed his gender thanks to Iva-chan's help. 

Chapter Text

The noisy voices of his nakama dining nearby filled the old heart of Sanji with warmth and affection.

Watching Luffy stubbornly trying to snatch meat from Usopp, who skillfully fended off his attempts with a fork like a rapier, Sanji's thoughts drifted back to memories of their last meeting.

As always, unexpectedly, Luffy appeared on Amour Infini along with Law, bringing with him the familiar chaos and usual hustle that resulted in a broken floor and a clash with an obscure pirate crew determined to kill the Pirate King at all costs.

After the crew disbanded, Luffy continued to need close people around him. And every Mugiwara was genuinely delighted when he stayed with them for extended visits, as they perfectly understood him.

But to their surprise, at some point, Luffy briefly disappeared, then announced his marriage to Law. This news shocked not only the Mugiwara crew but also their fleet, their friends, their enemies — basically everyone who knew Luffy, as he didn’t look like someone who could theoretically have a family.

Cornering Law at their wedding, the Mugiwara crew demanded an explanation of what the hell was going on.

What confused them wasn’t that Luffy had married Law — they had long known about the Heart Pirates’ captain’s feelings for their idiot — but rather that he had actually gone through with it.

In each of their minds, there was a certain picture of their shared future: "For the rest of their days, Law, in love with the oblivious fool, would play the role of a loyal friend, staying by Luffy’s side as a companion."

Law didn’t explain anything at the time but stated that Luffy’s choice hadn’t been coerced physically, mentally, or in any other way. It was sincere and voluntary.

That satisfied them, and they stopped shaking answers out of him along with his soul.

After the wedding, Luffy began traveling with Law, who had also disbanded his crew, and they regularly visited their nakama, toured Luffy’s territories, stayed with friends — in short, they were having a wonderful time.

Honestly, Sanji envied them terribly.

In a way, he and Law were in similar situations, but in Sanji’s case, where he simply had no chance of receiving a positive response, Trafalgar had shared his feelings and been accepted.

Shaking his head to chase away thoughts that had wandered off course, Sanji chuckled and exhaled cigarette smoke when Usopp delivered a sharp flick to the captain’s forehead in response to his successful attempt to steal someone else’s food.

The current Usopp was a timid and weak boy, and this remarkable contrast with the Usopp whom Sanji cherished deeply in his heart as a dear person sincerely astonished him.

Usopp was the only one among the Mugiwara crew who differed drastically from his adult version.

The strength hidden in that thin body had yet to reveal itself. And when it did, all the seas and skies would tremble before the Will of God Usopp.

“Hey, stop that! What’s gotten into you!” Nami scolded angrily after Usopp and Luffy spilled her soup. With a couple of strikes to their unruly heads, she calmed the overexcited boys. “You’re behaving like children, honestly,” the girl clicked her tongue disapprovingly as she sat down.

Sanji smiled, tenderly eyeing the silhouette of their cute navigator.

If there was anyone who wouldn’t change at all, it was Nami-san. Even acquiring the status of a junior queen didn’t alter her personality. Oh, Sanji had heard more than once that the queens reminded the residents of Alabasta of the bad and good marines — their reactions to various situations in the country and behavior during them varied greatly, making it very difficult for politicians to navigate between them.

Ah, right. The queen.

Rolling the cigarette in his mouth, Sanji picked up the plates he intended to take to their companions and left the galley. Approaching Vivi-chan and her partner, he set the dishes down in front of them with a friendly smile.

Both looked suspiciously and distrustfully first at him, then at the plates of food. But once their gaze fell on the dishes, they couldn’t tear their eyes away — the hunger, provoked by the intoxicating aroma awakening on their taste receptors, settled heavily in their stomachs.

“Enjoy your meal,” he nodded. “My culinary honor would never allow me to tamper with the food, so you can eat without fear. When you’re done, bring the plates to the galley — I’ll wash them.”

Sanji turned and slowly walked away.

Meanwhile, Vivi eagerly twirled spaghetti onto her fork and directed it into her mouth. As soon as her lips closed around the metal, she shuddered, rolling her eyes in pleasure. In all her life, she had never tasted such delicious food — it felt as if she had ascended to heaven, surrounded by a choir of little angels singing songs about the magnificent food created by God himself.

Mr. Nine next to her was equally shocked and transported to a better place, sent there by divine cuisine.

The more she ate, the clearer her mind became. Her thoughts, sticky with darkness, were cleansed, and her subdued mood gradually normalized.

Her bodily sensations shifted as well — the aching pain in her limbs disappeared, the knot in her stomach unraveled. Strength filled her in proportion to the food disappearing from her plate.

The persistent hunger vanished as if she had never experienced it. A gentle fullness, despite the large amount of food, wasn’t accompanied by a feeling of heaviness in her stomach.

It was… it was magnificent. She couldn’t find the words, staring absentmindedly at the empty plates.

Meanwhile, Sanji, noticing his nakama finishing their meals and preparing to leave, reminded them to gather in ten minutes so he could explain where to start their training. The three left, laughing merrily and sharing impressions of the food as if tasting it for the first time.

Chuckling flattered, Sanji rolled up his sleeves and glanced questioningly at Zoro, frozen by the table.

Marimo had been silent throughout dinner, speaking only when Luffy or Usopp addressed him. It seemed as if he simply didn’t want to… get distracted from the food.

At least, that’s how it appeared to Sanji. And he was a biased person with a prejudiced perspective.

“I’ll help you,” Zoro said firmly, picking up the plates from the table.

“Ah,” Sanji could only exhale in confusion, blinking stupidly several times. “Well, I’ll be grateful.”

Sanji washed the dishes and handed them to Zoro. A sense of déjà vu slowly pressed on his shoulders, but the atmosphere between them now…

It was completely different from what he had experienced in the past. It was quiet and calm — only the shouts of Usopp and Luffy and Nami’s scolding reached them from outside.

Sanji handed a wet plate to Zoro, who grasped it with his fingers, but suddenly it slipped and swiftly flew toward the floor.

Moving not too abruptly so as not to alarm Marimo, Sanji crouched and gently caught it just a few centimeters from the ground. Looking up, he met Zoro’s amused golden gaze:

“You did that on purpose,” Sanji stated without accusation, merely as a fact, straightening up.

“Yes,” Zoro smirked and added mockingly, taking the plate and drying it: “How nimble you are, huh. Amazing.”

“Thank you,” Sanji smiled, returning to the sink. “It’s the result of years of work and many broken plates,” he laughed lightly, plunging his hands into the soapy water.

Zoro chuckled amusedly.

He had wanted to fight the cook ever since he saw him unscathed after battling the fishman. But something inside him prevented him from provoking Zoro beyond these small antics. Whether it was confidence that verbal jabs would simply make the cook smile and brush them off, or that he’d cleverly find a way out of an unexpected situation, Zoro wasn’t sure.

Casting an insightful glance at Zoro, Sanji smiled knowingly, tilting his head:

“If you want to test me in battle, just say the word. I’ll always be happy to fight you.” Fights gave Sanji the opportunity to touch Zoro in the moment without romantic subtext. The desire to feel his hot skin was strong, but Sanji’s will was stronger.

“Later,” Zoro nodded seriously, taking note that the other side was very much for it.

The door opened, and Vivi-chan and Mr. Nine entered the galley, bringing their plates. After washing them and leaving them to dry, Sanji and Zoro went out on deck with them.

Gathering the nakama, Sanji stood opposite them. Looking attentively at the children, he began:

“Of course, I won’t fight most of you,” this clarification made Usopp frown nervously and Zoro smirk smugly, “nor will I throw knives at you. What we can start with, without any tools, is…” he held the suspense for a few seconds with a mysterious expression, “…blind man’s bluff.”

“What?” Nami exclaimed in surprise. Usopp and Zoro also stared at him somewhat bewildered. Luffy, sitting on top of the sheep, burst into loud laughter. “Seriously, Sanji, blind man’s bluff?”

“Do you think it’s not effective enough?” Sanji raised an eyebrow. “Look, this game has incredible potential: first, it develops auditory perception; second, you acquire the skill of spatial orientation with limited vision; third, to avoid colliding with objects, you’ll try to move carefully, which, combined with the other two points, is a significant step toward mastering Observation Haki. Any objections?”

The children were silent, processing what Sanji had said. They couldn’t even imagine that such a childish game could help them master such a powerful and mighty ability. But he sounded incredibly convincing.

“When do we start?!” Luffy impatiently shouted, jumping down from his spot.

They chose the seeker fairly — by counting off. Sanji knew many rhymes because, for over ten years, he had literally babysat the children of his nakama and friends, requiring a lot of unexpected knowledge and skills for entertainment.

Zoro ended up being the first seeker. Gently tying his own handkerchief over Zoro’s eyes, Sanji stepped aside. They all scattered in different directions and began clapping to attract attention.

Zoro, standing still, lightly touched the handkerchief with his fingertips. Deprived of sight, he took a sharp breath. His heightened sense of smell caught the natural scent of the cook emanating from the fabric of the handkerchief. The cook smelled of spices, cigarettes, and fragrant soap. The cook smelled like the wind.

“Hey, hey, Marimo-chan, don’t get distracted!” a mocking voice sounded behind him, followed by light claps.

Zoro spun around sharply and stretched out his arms, but caught only cool air. From the sudden movement, he stumbled but managed to stay on his feet.

It felt strange — moving almost blindly. How important, it turned out, were eyes and vision in general! He should value having both eyes intact.

“Hey, Zoro! Zoro!” Luffy clapped his hands to the left of him.

Zoro took a few steps and unexpectedly collided with the mast. Was it here all this time?! Wasn’t it somewhere else? Realizing he was completely lost in space irritated him, but it didn’t make him angry. Zoro was gripped by excitement, a competitive interest.

He chased after his nakama, tripping and nearly falling several times, almost flying into the water upon colliding with the gunwale. He managed to catch an incautious Nami and a too-loud Usopp before the cook unexpectedly stopped him:

“Enough,” Sanji softly said, grabbing Zoro’s wrists. Removing the handkerchief, he looked into his eyes: “Well, how was it?”

“I was supposed to catch all of you, why did you stop me?” Zoro frowned unhappily, having enjoyed the game despite his failures.

“Luffy is nimble and fast like a little monkey — you definitely couldn’t have caught him now,” Luffy blushed proudly and giggled happily. Sanji spoke without mockery or sarcasm, simply and sincerely.

“And what about you?” Zoro frowned, grabbing the cook’s thin wrist as he prepared to walk away.

“And I’m too biased toward you, so it doesn’t count,” Sanji joked, dodging the real reason.

Flustered, Marimo let go of him, and Sanji sang another rhyme. This time, the choice fell on Nami.

While tying the handkerchief, Sanji gently advised: “The main thing is, don’t focus on catching everyone. Your goal now is to learn how to feel comfortable in an unfamiliar state. Okay?”

“Yes, okay,” the girl nodded impatiently. Nami never thought she’d enjoy playing blind man’s bluff so much — after all, she was eighteen.

But running from Zoro, she felt a forgotten carefreeness, a childlike lightness. It invigorated her.

“I’m ready,” Nami exhaled and prepared.

“Nami-san,” Sanji called with a clap.

She tried not to move like Zorov— sharply and thoughtlessly. Carefully measuring each step, she cautiously explored the surrounding space, which felt completely different without sight. The deck of the Going Merry now seemed very large, though of course, it wasn’t.

Following Sanji-kun’s advice, Nami didn’t aim to catch her nakama, so after some time, without touching anyone, she was stopped by Sanji. Removing the handkerchief, she looked at the cook seriously:

“This is really a good exercise, you did well. I’ll lend you some money at a low interest rate.”

Sanji chuckled warmly, accepting the handkerchief. He had only managed to pay off his debts to her by the age of forty. Well, this time, they wouldn’t be as heavy.

Next was Usopp.

Ahead of time, during the chase from Zoro and Nami, he memorized the locations of the obstacles that had tripped up the previous seekers. And when he was deprived of sight, Usopp skillfully avoided them but — couldn’t catch anyone at first.

Afterward, stopping, he thought deeply.

Nami often stood on the stairs, then quickly climbed to the upper platform, earlier indicated by Sanji, to bypass Zoro.

The swordsman himself always stayed below, preferring to dodge rather than run.

Sanji moved smoothly but unpredictably — Usopp didn’t even hope to catch him.

As for Luffy… Luffy jumped around the deck of the Going Merry like a monkey, creating a lot of noise and commotion. The only way to catch him was during a jump from one spot to another.

Having devised a strategy, Usopp caught Nami minutes later when she tried to bypass him. And with a feint, he almost grabbed Luffy, but the latter wriggled free using the power of the fruit and slipped out of his grasp.

Realizing he wouldn’t catch anyone else, Usopp stopped the game.

Sanji praised him, taking the handkerchief, and noted that Usopp acted very wisely and consciously, analyzing the terrain and understanding his opponents' characteristics.

Flattered, the boy proudly raised his nose. Yes, he was undeniably cool.

Finally, it was Luffy’s turn. While tying the handkerchief, Sanji sternly told him to be careful, as his reckless actions could cause him to fall into the water. Sanji knew Luffy wouldn’t listen, but at least he had warned the captain. Thinking for a moment, he added to motivate him further:

“If you don’t fall into the water, I’ll make a delicious cake tomorrow. So focus.”

That truly helped.

At the moments when playful "madness" overtook the boy’s mind, he momentarily slowed down, stopping just a breath away from falling into the water.

Nami and Usopp were caught relatively quickly compared to their results. He moved so nimbly and sharply that the frightened nakama froze for a few seconds, allowing themselves to be grabbed. His chaotic movements disoriented them, so they got caught.

Meanwhile, Zoro took the captain’s actions more seriously and ran with him, unwilling to yield.

“Gotcha!” Luffy shouted, grabbing the panting Zoro’s leg with his stretched-out hand. Letting go, he loudly added: “Only Sanji’s left!”

“No,” Sanji calmly said, somehow ending up behind Luffy. Extending his hand, he slowly removed the handkerchief: “I’ll play next time, showing you how to optimize your actions better. I brought juice, drink up and go to sleep.”

Had he really gone to the galley and prepared juice? But none of them even noticed him leaving!

Confusedly accepting glasses of cold, refreshing juice, the heavily breathing, tired but absolutely satisfied Mugiwara crew slowly drank the beverage, calming their hearts before sleep.

Each of them had something to think about, pondering what they could improve in their techniques.

Each of them wanted to become stronger.

Chapter Text

Sanji's calmness in strange, unfamiliar, and dangerous situations for the crew often rubbed off on them as well.

Seeing that the ever-serene cook wasn’t succumbing to the general panic, the Mugiwara crew unconsciously subdued their own fears and worries, acting in a coordinated and confident manner.

The journey to Whiskey Peak became one of many upcoming trials on their path. But, like any other troubles, they managed to endure it as well.

“This is Whiskey Peak!” exclaimed Luffy, sitting in his usual spot while holding onto his hat, his voice filled with excitement.

Ahead of them lay the sight of the island, most of which was covered by enormous "cacti," which were actually hills adorned with crosses of pirates who had perished there.

Knowing the main secret of this “friendly” island didn’t spoil their impression of it at all.

After all, Whiskey Peak really was beautiful and harmless — the problem lay with the people who inhabited it.

Watching Vivi-chan and Mr. Nine, who had jumped into the water shortly before docking, Sanji didn’t interfere in his nakama’s conversation about their plans for spending time on the island or the need to stay there to adjust the Log Pose.

There was no danger now, as the bounty hunters would diligently try to lull their attention, so he had nothing to worry about.

The Going Merry slowly moved deeper into Whiskey Peak along a quiet river.

The thick fog reduced their visibility, so the sudden voices from the banks startled the youngsters, especially Nami and Usopp, who always expected the worst.

“Welcome to Whiskey Peak! A town where you’re welcome!” hundreds of ecstatic, joyous voices echoed from all sides, accompanying the Going Merry. “Pirates, welcome to our town!”

With a barely audible smirk, Sanji lit a cigarette, lowering his gaze.

Only naive kids like Usopp and Luffy genuinely believed they were truly welcome here.

But honestly, back then, even he had been a naive fool, unable to see beyond the tip of his nose. How suspicious it all turned out to be in reality.

“What a reception!” boasted Usopp, behaving like a singer greeted by fans, blowing kisses left and right. Such behavior from the crowd flattered him, stroking the boy’s ego. “It seems they consider pirates heroes!”

Next to him, Luffy was also overjoyed, swept up in the general excitement and happiness.

Soon, the Going Merry docked at the shore, where a friendly crowd led by Igaram, known here as “Igarappoi,” awaited them.

Introducing himself as the mayor of Whiskey Peak, he offered to organize a feast in honor of their arrival. Luffy and Usopp happily agreed, blending into the company of strangers as if they were long-lost friends.

Interrupting Nami and ignoring her question about the Log Pose, Igaram led the girl after the wave of people flooding into the town, loudly praising the arriving pirates and wishing them prosperity, happiness, love, and many other blessings.

Sanji and Zoro followed them, walking leisurely through the streets of the town towards the bar where the residents of Whiskey Peak had gathered to celebrate their arrival.

With his hand resting on Wado Ichimonji, Zoro thoughtfully and frowningly glanced around. Noticing this, Sanji leaned slightly toward him and whispered:

“You noticed something’s off here too, right?”

Zoro turned his head and looked at the cook with respect, a shadow settling over his golden irises.

The strange, unnatural friendliness of the townsfolk seemed suspicious not only to him. Perhaps he wasn’t a genius, but he certainly wasn’t a naive fool either. Such tricks wouldn’t work on him.

Moreover, the name of the blue-haired girl’s companion, Mr. Nine, had long been bothering Zoro.

It reminded him of something, though he couldn’t quite recall what.

Until at some point during their journey to Whiskey Peak, he remembered his encounter with Mr. Seven, who had invited him — then still a bounty hunter — to join their organization.

Baroque Works.

It was hard to call this a coincidence, so Zoro classified Wednesday and Mr. Nine as members of this organization, whose base was apparently located here — on Whiskey Peak.

Thus, the friendliness of the townsfolk became even more dangerous for their crew, as there was no doubt why they had welcomed them so warmly.

Stopping and causing the cook to halt behind him, Zoro silently gazed at him for a while.

Curly Eyebrow softly smiled, his piercing blue eyes fixed directly on him. It had always been like this — whenever Zoro paid attention to the cook, he was met with his gaze in return.

Softly, tenderly, unobtrusively — his eyes were always filled with warmth that stirred the heart, troubled the mind, and felt foreign to Zoro himself.

“Oh, my friends… ma-ma-ma… Why did you stop?” called Igarappoi, noticing they had fallen behind. “Come on, hurry up!” he urged them.

“We’ll talk about it later,” Zoro sighed, resuming his walk. The cook merely smiled knowingly, saying nothing.

The cook wasn’t particularly fond of chatter, Zoro continued reflecting on the thought interrupted by the town’s mayor.

Usually, he was just a silent listener, seemingly not paying attention to conversations. But when someone from the crew addressed him, the cook effortlessly joined in. Zoro... respected this skill of his. As well as many others.

No matter how much he teased Curly Eyebrow, Zoro didn’t actually dislike him.

The cook was mysterious and somehow… unreachable, as if he were always one step ahead. Zoro always felt that Curly Eyebrow would have answers to all questions and solutions to all problems.

This was somewhat frustrating — after all, they were peers, which Zoro thought implied equality. But there was no trace of equality here.

They were brought to a bar already filled with a loud, raucous crowd drinking alcohol as if it were their last day. Barrels of rum were everywhere, numerous but monotonous snacks abounded. Music played, creating an oppressive cacophony mixed with the clamor of the crowd.

Sitting next to Zoro on a semicircular couch, Sanji suddenly pressed against the swordsman’s side, causing him to tense up and cast a stern glance at him.

Realizing such behavior might repel the boy, Sanji quickly explained himself, leaning close to his ear:

“We can only communicate like this. Otherwise, they might overhear us and become suspicious. This way, we look like a loving couple. It’s good cover,” Sanji hurriedly clarified his actions, subtly placing his hand on the swordsman’s knee.

Zoro silently stared at the pale hand with long, neat fingers resting on his knee, simultaneously accepting a mug of alcohol handed to him by someone.

Taking a large gulp, Zoro forced himself to relax, acknowledging that their interaction indeed wouldn’t seem strange or suspicious to the islanders.

It was all just pretense for a good cause, nothing more.

“You’re right,” Zoro exhaled heavily.

From the other end of the bar, Igaram cast a long glance at them and asked the red-haired girl, who appeared to be the team's navigator:

“Your crewmates are so close! Are they lovers?” he asked curiously, and the people standing nearby who heard this joyfully cheered, raising their mugs of alcohol.

He needed to confirm that these boys quietly whispering to each other were behaving normally

“Hm?” Nami blinked, set her mug down, and turned her head, noticing Sanji and Zoro.

Sanji was pressing closely against the relaxed swordsman, his hand resting on Zoro’s knee. With the tip of his index finger, Sanji slowly traced patterns on the fabric of his pants, tilting his head with a shy smile. Meanwhile, Zoro was saying something into his ear, practically pressing his lips to the earlobe.

Such behavior was certainly uncharacteristic for them.

Zoro always avoided Sanji’s touch, so why was he allowing this now? But understanding that they wouldn’t behave this way without reason, Nami smiled nonchalantly.

“Of course,” she nodded and, after a moment’s thought, added with quiet, mocking sarcasm: “They love each other very much.”

Meanwhile, Sanji listened to Zoro recount his encounter with one of Baroque Works’ officers, who had once invited Roronoa to join their organization.

Marimo spoke unhurriedly, pausing momentarily to take a sip of rum from his mug, and from the outside, it looked as if he were whispering romantic nonsense to him. Sanji intentionally made his expression slightly embarrassed and flustered.

Pausing again, Zoro leaned back and took a big gulp. Sanji gently pressed on his knee and, leaning forward, whispered:

“So, Wednesday-chan and Mr. Nine are part of Baroque Works, just like Mr. Seven who came after you. If I had any doubts before, they’re gone now. They led us here to kill us,” Sanji murmured, inadvertently exhaling into Zoro’s ear.

The shiver that ran through the young man’s body didn’t escape Sanji’s notice, lost in the warmth of their innocent yet intimate closeness.

Roronoa’s natural scent of sweat intoxicated Sanji, awakening desires of a specific nature.

Listening to his low whisper, Sanji wanted to pounce on the boy and ravish him right there.

Unwilling to further test his patience, Sanji quietly said before pulling away:

“I’ll go wander around. Maybe I’ll learn something interesting. We’ll meet later to discuss what to do.”

After watching the cook disappear into the crowd of drinking people, Zoro slowly and thoughtfully glanced at his legs.

On his right knee, he could still feel the phantom touch of delicate fingers lightly brushing over the fabric of his pants. His side retained the slowly fading warmth of the body that had pressed against him, as if no one had ever touched Zoro that way before.

That wasn’t true — Zoro had been with women, but for some reason, Curly Eyebrow’s touch felt different.

Shaking his head, he decided not to dwell on strange thoughts, especially now when he needed to be vigilant about the people surrounding them.

Noticing his suspicious pensiveness, the mayor sat beside him and generously refilled his mug with rum, starting a conversation to distract the swordsman:

“Did you two have a fight?” Igaram asked sympathetically, watching the boy who was quickly getting drunk.

For his beloved, who had left the bar, he had already ordered someone to keep an eye on him.

“No, he liked the town and just wanted to take a little walk,” Zoro shrugged, seeing nothing unusual about it.

Popping a snack into his mouth, he washed it down with rum. The drinks here were mediocre, but honestly, Zoro didn’t care. He wasn’t one to be picky about alcohol choices.

“Ah, youth. At your age, you shouldn’t separate even for a minute! In the future, you’ll surely miss each other when Fate forces you to part for a long time,” the man sighed wistfully, involuntarily recalling his wife.

“What do we know?” Zoro snorted skeptically, closing his eyes and relaxing even more.

They had just begun their shared journey — how could prolonged separation even be discussed?

Meanwhile, Sanji had indeed simply decided to stroll through the city to clear his head.

The inappropriate and unexpected arousal was alien to an adult mind but familiar to a young body, stubbornly ignoring all logical arguments of reason.

Even such minimal physical contact with the object of affection was enough to create pressure in his groin.

Even if the object of affection was a man.

Bisexuality had always been present in Sanji, though it hadn’t manifested equally or at the same time, as strange as that sounded.

And if his brain formed a romantic attachment to someone, his penis automatically hardened as soon as interactions with that person crossed a certain threshold.

What a pervert he had been in his youth.

Sanji, at forty-seven, felt incredibly awkward realizing this.

He wandered through the city for a long time, aimlessly strolling through the streets where he kept encountering drinking people who kindly invited him to join them.

He politely declined, citing his desire to admire the beauties of Whiskey Peak with a sober mind. Feeling the gazes following him, Sanji carelessly roamed, giving his body time to settle down.

The thought of spending a few hours with a loosely acquainted girl or guy to release tension didn’t even cross his mind.

By his side was his beloved person, and even if Zoro never reciprocated his feelings (an undesirable but possible outcome), he would remain faithful to him. Until the very end.

In the past, having chickened out and not confessed his love to Marimo, Sanji tried to quench his sadness and self-hatred in reckless affairs with people eager to give themselves to the Pirate King’s cook.

Now, having endured those years full of melancholy and self-deprecation, doing the same would feel like betraying Zoro, though of course, it wasn't.

He was too old to lead such a rich sex life. Would Zoro never become his lover? So be it.

Returning to the bar at sunset, Sanji found the youngsters in the same places they had been when he left.

Nami-san convincingly pretended to be drunk, while Usopp and Luffy simply enjoyed the attention and free food. Zoro, meanwhile, was drinking rum with someone on a dare. A large crowd had gathered around them, divided into two teams, one of which actively supported Roronoa.

Noticing him, one of the crowd slapped him on the shoulder and loudly said:

“Look, your guy almost outdrank our big guy — what stamina, huh!”

Sanji silently smiled in response to the stranger’s remark, neither correcting nor agreeing with him. With a dull thud, Zoro placed his mug on the table after several large gulps, tilted his head back, and looked at him with shining golden eyes.

“How was your walk?” he asked, ignoring the cook’s hand on his shoulder.

They were still playing lovers — touching was normal.

“The town really is beautiful,” Sanji smiled and, slightly moving away from the back of the couch, hopped over it, sitting next to the swordsman. No longer pressing against him but maintaining some distance to avoid suspicion while ensuring he didn’t get aroused again, Sanji leaned in and whispered: “I think when we all get drunk and fall asleep, they’ll make their move. We need to…”

“What are you whispering about, hey!” interrupted Sanji’s opponent from Zoro’s drinking contest.

Sanji intended to joke as usual, but suddenly Zoro wrapped an arm around his waist, sharply pulling him close and tightly pressing the slightly trembling body against him.

Breathing out in confusion, Sanji, along with the surrounding crowd, stared at Marimo in astonishment.

What was he doing?! Yes, they were pretending to be lovers, but wasn’t this behavior too… too much?

“What, do you have a problem?” Zoro aggressively shot back, tightening his grip on the cook’s slender waist. “Can’t you see, people are talking?”

“Zoro, what are you doing?” Sanji whispered in bewilderment, recovering from the shock of what had just happened.

He couldn’t have imagined Roronoa behaving this way! Such antics were bad for his old, deeply infatuated heart and young, uncontrollably desiring body.

Zoro turned his head and demonstratively buried his nose in Sanji’s hair, unintentionally inhaling their scent. His fingers tightened on the cook’s waist despite Sanji’s subtle attempts to remove them. The cook’s hair smelled fruity, like a girl’s.

“I’m doing this because we need to pretend we’ll go to the bedroom after getting drunk, so we can escape and attack them in time,” Zoro whispered.

“W-what?” Sanji exclaimed, slightly louder than appropriate for the situation.

He hadn’t expected his idea to turn into… this!

Chapter Text

Sanji was no longer at an age where he succumbed to emotions and acted before thinking things through.

In his youth, he had committed many reckless acts, so a certain paranoid caution became one of his main traits in adulthood. At least, that’s what Sanji believed.

He believed it until the moment he returned to his younger body.

Over these two weeks, how many times had he done something without considering the consequences first?!

Sanji felt like tearing himself apart in frustration. And here he constantly boasted about his age and experience? But… looking at Zoro's "drunken" satisfied grin, having finally outdrunk his opponent, Sanji closed his eyes.

No matter his age, next to Zoro, he would always be a weak, love-struck boy.

A boy who made impulsive decisions.

Noticing that most of the nakama had fallen asleep (or were skillfully pretending to, in Nami-san’s case), Sanji gently squeezed Zoro’s knee, drawing his attention.

Zoro turned his head, giving him a teasing golden-eyed squint, his drunken gaze glimmering faintly in the dim bar light.

They had a plan. They were ready.

“Don’t you want some privacy, Zoro?” Sanji purred, playing the role of a lovesick fool drunk out of his mind.

The only lie in this charade was that Sanji wasn’t drunk at all, despite the amount of alcohol he’d consumed. Slipping his fingers under Zoro’s haramaki, Sanji gave a seductive smile.

Zoro, who was also just pretending to be drunk, smirked faintly.

For hours leading up to this moment, they had been putting on a show for the crowd, practically glued to each other. It wasn’t hard for Zoro — touching the cook’s slender, almost girlish waist, pressing his nose into his sweet-smelling hair, “kissing” his cheek and temple.

He didn’t see anything dirty or vulgar in it; he viewed it as a successful attempt to deceive deceivers.

At one point, he thought about how this might be difficult for the obviously smitten cook.

After all, Zoro wasn’t emotionally stunted — he possessed basic empathy (though he often ignored it).

But after observing Curly Eyebrow chatting with some girls who had sidled up to them, Zoro realized that if it were truly hard for him, he wouldn’t have even suggested this act.

Despite their identical ages, the cook seemed more emotionally mature.

Rational, sometimes overly logical, self-aware, he didn’t give the impression of being someone troubled by any of this.

At least, that’s what Zoro thought, analyzing the cook’s behavior now and before. If something bothered him, Curly Eyebrow would have definitely said something.

So everything was fine.

“Hmm, why not?” Zoro wiggled his eyebrows, touching the cook’s chin with his fingers.

The coarse dark hairs felt unfamiliar against his skin. Zoro had no hair anywhere except his head and "down below," not even on his arms. But Curly Eyebrow was rather… hairy.

“Hey, get us a room with a bed!” he impatiently barked toward the side, hiccupping drunkenly.

Upstairs in the bar was a small room resembling a cramped attic. There were closed crates and chests scattered around, and in the corner, hidden in shadow, was a narrow cot, likely used by the bar owner for short naps.

Muttering thanks, Zoro shut the door in the face of their escort.

Sanji relaxed onto the squeaky cot, lighting a cigarette. Glancing at Zoro standing by the door, Sanji grinned cheerfully, seeing this as a rare chance to spend a little more time alone with Zoro.

“We’ll need to make some noise so they believe us.”

“Well then, go ahead,” Zoro snorted, leaning back against the door with his arms crossed.

The sword sheaths thudded softly against the wooden surface. Only when they were enclosed in the tight, dark space did Zoro suddenly feel a strange discomfort in his chest. He couldn’t understand its origin.

Sanji smoked silently for a while. He needed to moan to reinforce their "couple" act. Stubbing out the cigarette on his boot sole, Sanji adjusted himself on the cot. It had to creak.

Looking up at the frowning Zoro, Sanji parted his lips and let out his first moan. Barely audible at first, fragile and weak, it quickly gained strength, abruptly ending with a sharp cry of "Yes!"

Catching the wide-eyed golden stare, Sanji rhythmically rocked the cot, making it screech against the floor.

Zoro remained silent, standing motionless by the door, staring at Sanji as though he were a ghost. Shock, confusion, and something he couldn’t name settled like a shadow over his irises.

“A-ah, Zoro, harder!” Sanji cried out, his face calm despite the desperate desire threading through his voice. The hurried creak of the cot sounded like a melody accompanying a song of love.

“Yes, Zoro, deep- deeper!” His trembling, breathless voice echoed as if from afar, though Sanji didn’t blush once while making such filthy sounds.

What weighed heavily in his chest wasn’t disgust toward the cook or, conversely, arousal triggered by his moans.

After all, Zoro had only ever slept with women.

He didn’t think he could get aroused by another man, though Curly Eyebrow’s voice had initially sent shivers down his spine.

Confused and frustrated by his inability to understand his feelings, Zoro covered his eyes with his hand. He’d just give the cook a little more time, then stop him. It was all for a good cause. That’s all.

Sanji moaned and rocked on the cot for another ten minutes before Zoro approached him and silently signaled it was time to stop. Letting out a final cry, Sanji froze, catching his breath. Screaming nonstop for that long was indeed exhausting.

“Come here,” Sanji patted the spot next to him on the cot, lying on his back to give Zoro space. “They’re sure to check in soon to confirm we’re asleep.”

Zoro didn’t resist.

Sighing and setting his swords aside where he could grab them easily, he awkwardly settled onto the cot, forcing the cook to drape a leg over him to fit on the narrow sleeping space.

Lowering his gaze, he met the cook’s soft eyes.

“This won’t happen again. At least, I’ll think of something else next time,” Sanji promised quietly, not feeling sadness or pain from their forced charade but understanding that for his old, lovesick heart, this wasn’t the safest experience.

Who knows what sorrow it might bring later?

Suddenly, Zoro reached out and thoughtfully touched his eyebrow, tracing the path from the outer corner to the curl on the inner with his fingertip. Feeling a shiver run through the body pressed against him, Zoro smirked smugly. He enjoyed making the perpetually calm and composed cook flustered and uncomfortable.

A creak came from the door. Someone had indeed come to check on them. For a moment, the person hiding by the door watched them, peacefully asleep in each other’s arms, then closed the door, satisfied they were asleep.

As soon as the creak faded, Zoro and Sanji rose from the cot.

Slipping unnoticed out of the bar, they climbed onto the roof, deciding to stay in the shadows for a while to observe Baroque Works’ agents. Igaram’s, Vivi’s, Mr. Nine’s, and Miss Monday’s voices echoed through the silent night streets of Whiskey Peak.

Zoro sat down, while Sanji melancholically observed the mercenaries.

“Calm down… Look here. I found out something about this crew,” Igaram interrupted the argument between Vivi, Mr. Nine, and Miss Monday, who was indignant about the failure of someone else’s mission, handing over posters —Luffy’s and Sanji’s.

Sanji froze, staring at his own wanted poster.

Crushing an unlit cigarette in frustration, he cursed himself yet again for such a reckless act, committed without a thought for the consequences.

He should’ve checked the ship for hidden bounty hunters back then!

Ignoring Zoro’s gaze, Sanji noticed the agents’ reaction was even more explosive than in his time.

Fifty-four million beli for a crew of naive rookies — wasn’t that a joke?

“Now, retrieve everything valuable from their ship and immediately tie each of them up! The reward for corpses is thirty percent less. The government wants to publicly execute criminals,” Igaram issued orders.

But before Miss Monday and the others could carry out his instructions, Zoro lazily, yet mockingly, spoke up, raising his sword in the air. He didn’t consider the people below serious opponents.

“Sorry, but could you let my friends sleep a little longer? They’re so tired after a long journey.”

“Mr. Eight, Miss Monday!” someone shouted frantically, running out of the bar. “The couple escaped!”

“How did you…” Igaram stared at the boys who had stopped on the roof, confused and agitated. “You were asleep!” he exclaimed, bewildered.

“A true swordsman never lets alcohol cloud his mind,” Zoro replied sternly, quietly, with a hint of mocking arrogance.

“Ah, Marimo-chan, you’re so cool,” Sanji purred, lighting a cigarette and genuinely meaning it, though he decided to throw in a compliment.

He needed to tease Zoro a bit to remind him whom he was dealing with. What had happened between them was just a performance, but Sanji’s real feelings hadn’t disappeared.

Zoro shot him his usual disapproving glance. Despite their peaceful interactions during the voyage and not having had a major fight yet, Sanji constantly teased the swordsman, flirted with him, and showered him with compliments far more than he did Nami.

This, obviously, irritated Zoro, making him grumble and avoid the cook when he crossed certain boundaries. Roronoa always felt out of place in those moments, realizing that Curly Eyebrow was serious about all these ridiculous, albeit not intrusive, advances.

“Bounty hunters throwing fake parties for pirates to celebrate their arrival on the Grand Line,” Zoro returned his attention to the crowd below, now gathered into an impressively hostile group against them, adding as he slowly stood up: “And apparently, there are about a hundred of you. You’ll make excellent opponents, Baroque Works.”

In response to Mr. Nine’s shocked and distrustful shout, along with the surrounding people’s bewilderment and concern that an outsider knew about their “secret” organization, Zoro mockingly explained how he learned about them, looking at the crowd with the arrogance of someone aware of his strength.

“You really surprised me… But since you know about us, we’ll have to kill you,” Igaram coldly and threateningly glared at them. “Two more gravestones will appear on the cactus cliffs!”

“Have fun, Marimo-chan,” Sanji finished his cigarette and flicked it away with a snap of his fingers. “I’ll go keep an eye on our crew so they don’t get taken hostage. If anything happens, call me.” Lightly patting the eye-rolling Zoro on the shoulder, Sanji vanished a moment later.

Inside the bar, it was quiet and peaceful. The commotion and sounds of battle faintly drifted in from outside.

Picking up Usopp, who had fallen asleep snoring on the upper-floor partition (how he even got there, having fallen asleep downstairs earlier), Sanji slowly descended to the first floor, carefully laying the boy on the couch next to Nami.

He remembered that in the past, he had gotten blackout drunk and only came to when they hastily dragged him onto the Going Merry after the chaos ended, following the arrival of higher-ranking agents pursuing Vivi and Igaram.

Back then, he only learned everything afterward, but now… now he was a direct participant in this nocturnal rendezvous.

Softly chuckling, Sanji began humming a tune that local musicians had played several times, even if they weren’t actual musicians. Catchy, hurried, and simple to perform, it was perfect for serene whistling while waiting.

Deciding that pretending not to notice anything for more than five minutes was already kind of silly, Sanji quietly said:

“Come on, Nami-san, I can see you’re not asleep,” he chuckled lightly.

The girl sighed heavily and straightened up. There was no trace of drunken gleam in her eyes. She was serious and clearly very displeased. Sanji raised an eyebrow questioningly and didn’t have time to say anything before Nami angrily jabbed a finger at him.

“What the hell were you doing with Zoro?! Do you know how loud you were?!” the girl hissed furiously, poking the cook’s chest.

She was so embarrassed when she heard Sanji’s moans that it seemed steam might pour out of her ears from overheating.

“Why did you even do all that?” she added, not believing for a second that Sanji and Zoro had actually made love.

Sanji briefly recounted the information he’d received from Zoro and confirmed directly by Baroque Works agents themselves, explaining the reason for their outrageous behavior, but it did nothing to calm Nami. Her ears were still red, and she shot daggers at the guiltily smiling cook.

“If I ever hear you having sex with Zoro on the Going Merry, I’ll throw you both overboard!” she warned angrily.

The bar door suddenly swung open, and they saw Vivi standing in the doorway.

Noticing the awake Nami and Sanji, who had disappeared from the roof minutes earlier, Vivi tensed up.

She had initially planned to grab their captain to blackmail Zoro into surrendering. But catching the dark, warning look from the cook — who, though he had revealed a positive side over a couple of days sailing together, still remained terrifying and intimidating — Vivi shuddered fearfully and slammed the door shut.

“She’s scared of you,” Nami stated, glancing cautiously at the smoking Sanji.

What exactly was so scary about him? Sanji was a sweet and courteous guy, respectful of her personal boundaries (which couldn’t be said about the swordsman’s).

He never imposed, was kind and attentive to her, and willingly engaged in conversation when Nami took the initiative.

Sanji knew a lot, joked excellently, and cooked superbly, making him a pretty decent guy.

Nami might’ve even been interested in him if she didn’t prefer women.

“It’s a misunderstanding,” Sanji shrugged, smiling easily. “You’re not afraid of me, are you?”

“Not at all,” Nami declared firmly.

She feared no one in the crew, even though she was obviously weaker than all of them. They never gave her a reason to be afraid. On the contrary — it was she who instilled fear in them.

Smirking smugly, the girl stood up. “We need to see what’s happening out there.”

“I’ll stay here with the captain and Usopp. If anything happens, call me. I’ll rush to save you from any trouble, Nami-san, wherever you are,” Sanji leaned down and lightly kissed the back of the girl’s hand, watching her leave.

Silence returned, interrupted only by Usopp’s light snores as he unconsciously cuddled up to Sanji, who absentmindedly began stroking the boy’s hair.

He was still such a child — thin, weak, and cowardly, which repeatedly stunned Sanji, accustomed to a different Usopp.

But at the same time, this Usopp was cuter and more charming. Sometimes he wanted to squeeze him just like Luffy. Though with the little captain, it was entirely feasible since he loved close physical contact and often fell into the cook’s arms on his own, Usopp had an exaggerated teenage independence.

Ah, kids…

“M-mh…” Luffy stirred and sat up on the floor, drowsily looking around.

He was still sleepy and very disheveled. His thick black hair stuck out in all directions, and his red vest was askew.

“Sanji?” the boy mumbled, noticing the cook, who Usopp had moved closer to on the couch, disturbed by a large belly. “Where is everyone?”

“This is serious, Captain,” Sanji rolled the cigarette in his mouth, careful not to let the smoke drift toward Luffy.

Reaching out and beginning to smooth the boy’s soft hair, Sanji quietly, firmly, and thoroughly explained what had happened, leaving out no detail.

“…That’s how it went down. Right now, Zoro is fighting them outside.”

“I see,” the mini-captain sighed, lowering his shoulders sadly.

He was disappointed that the kind and friendly people turned out to be bounty hunters planning to kill them.

“We need to help Zoro!” Luffy jumped to his feet, his big belly, caused by overeating (which never happened with Sanji’s cooking), shifting like a water balloon. “You stay here with Usopp!” he called out before running out of the bar.

Sanji had reasons for staying in the bar and not intervening in the battle outside. Initially, it was to keep an eye on the nakama, but now…

The Unluckies shouldn’t recognize his face so his entire “campaign” against Crocodile, which he planned to repeat with some exceptions, could work.

He spent many nights thinking about this while the Going Merry slept, leaving the galley light on like a beacon in the pitch darkness.

Running his fingers through Usopp’s hair and humming that same song, Sanji reflected on the past and future.

He planned to ease their journey as much as possible, ensuring the difficulties they encountered pushed them to grow physically and mentally but didn’t break them.

Selfishly, Sanji wanted to preserve their youthful carefree nature and sincerity for as long as possible. He was an old, biased man.

Realizing Luffy would soon burst into the bar to fetch them, Sanji began waking Usopp.

Gently nudging the grumpy boy awake, Sanji smiled and briefly recounted the night’s events to minimally bring him up to speed.

The overwhelmed sniper stared blankly at the table, processing what he’d heard. Like Luffy, he was outraged by the deception.

Suddenly, raising his head, he gave Sanji a slightly unfocused, stern look and blurted out:

“Since when are you and Zoro dating?”

“It was all an act. We needed to distract attention from the fact that we kept whispering to each other,” Sanji sighed.

The only nakama who didn’t call him out for it was Luffy. The captain, obviously, hadn’t paid them any mind, but the observant Nami and Usopp noticed something off about the cook and first mate’s behavior.

“Oh,” Usopp blinked absently. “Well, that’s what I thought. Of course, Zoro wouldn’t just give in to cheap advances,” he nodded to himself.

“Ah, Usopp, you wound my professional pride!” Sanji exclaimed, feigning offense.

“Sanji, grab Usopp, we need to run!” Luffy shouted, bursting into the bar and startling Usopp, who jumped in place. “Oh, you’re awake! Even better. Let’s go!”

They bolted toward the Going Merry, the path from the bar to the dock taking no time at all.

Jumping onto the deck, Sanji noticed Vivi anxiously talking with Nami. Now he could start treating the girl properly since she wasn’t pretending anymore, and neither was he.

Spotting Zoro standing slightly to the side with Carue, Sanji smiled at him. Marimo gave him a quick glance and nodded. How caring.

The Going Merry set sail, heading down the river toward the sea.

The fog, settling damply in the predawn air, created a mysterious, slightly tense atmosphere, reinforced by Nami’s rushed explanation of what had happened and where they were headed.

“The fog… It’ll cover everything soon,” a mocking female voice suddenly reached them. “Be careful not to crash into the rocks. Though, of course, you’ve chosen a good route to escape your pursuers!”

Sanji looked up along with everyone else. Sitting on the upper deck railing, swinging her leg, was she.

Nico Robin.

Chapter Text

Beautiful, dangerous, witty.

That’s all her.

Nico Robin.

His dear Robin-chan, who became a support and pillar during the time when their crew had just disbanded, and Sanji still hadn’t confessed his love to Marimo.

Consumed by hatred and disgust for his own cowardice, he found solace in the sweet friend, wise and understanding.

Sanji's heart tenderly tightened.

Robin was practically unchanged from her future self, only becoming more sincere and truly happy.

After a long journey, marrying Franky, Robin returned with him to Water 7, where she gave birth to a daughter. Sanji was head over heels for the little girl, who inherited the brilliant intellect of her parents.

“Nice ship,” Robin mockingly muttered, looking down at them.

There wasn’t a trace of warmth in her brown eyes, the same warmth she once showed him when Sanji wept on her lap after the crew disbanded. She was a stranger to them, but for him, she was the closest friend.

It hurt. Accepting that he had left his family was still difficult. Unbearably difficult.

“…And I followed her to find out about the boss!” Vivi-chan explained tensely, ready to jump into battle at any moment.

Brave little princess, though sometimes a bit naive.

“Well, to be precise, I let you do it,” Robin chuckled amusedly, swinging her leg.

"Ooo, she’s good," Luffy murmured, glancing at the princess.

"I know it’s you! You betrayed me to the boss!" Vivi shouted.

"Ooo, she’s bad," the captain frowned sternly, looking at Robin.

Sanji smiled. Even at forty, Luffy’s worldview remained the same — in his world, there were no shades of gray, only ‘black’ and ‘white.’ Charming, strange, mesmerizing simplicity of soul.

Sanji sank into his thoughts about the captain, who, though physically grown, continued to remain a naive, carefree fool despite all the pain, suffering, and losses he endured on his path.

Sanji sincerely admired Luffy, though he understood how hard it sometimes was for him. Now, with knowledge and strength, Sanji wanted to become an even better support for him than in the past.

"Shut your mouth!" The despair in Vivi’s voice sobered Sanji, always sharply reacting to the suffering of his lovely ladies.

In the past, he acted rashly, grabbing a pistol Vivi brought from Whiskey Peak because the situation pressed, and there was no time to think.

Of course, he knew how to handle it — Sanji grew up among pirates before chefs. Plus, his childhood in Germa also included episodes with weapons of varying lethality.

He never hit women and wouldn’t allow himself to now, and using a pistol... well, Sanji honestly didn’t remember why he did it back then.

He took no action, continuing to stand aside and smoke, but Usopp, who as in the past aimed his slingshot at Robin, was abruptly and rather roughly (and unexpectedly for the youngsters) sent flying from the upper deck.

Taking a few smooth yet rapid steps, Sanji skillfully caught the cannoneer in his arms, exhaling cigarette smoke to the side.

The nakama simultaneously exclaimed in shock at the display of devil fruit power.

Usopp, having come to his senses, nervously clung to Sanji, gripping the fabric of his shirt, and whispered:

"She’s a monster!"

"Tsk-tsk," Sanji clicked his tongue, continuing to hold Usopp since he hadn’t made any move to get down onto the deck. It wasn’t a problem, especially with his current strength. "She’s quite a beautiful woman. Yes, deadly dangerous, but no less charming because of it."

Robin, hearing his words, shot a sharp glance at Sanji, which didn’t escape the attentive cook’s notice.

Sanji smiled and winked at her. For him, what was happening wasn’t nearly as tense or frightening as it was for his nakama.

"Hey, don’t you love Zoro? Why are you flirting with this criminal?" Usopp hissed indignantly, still not recovered from their and Marimo’s performance in the bar.

"I’m not flirting with her," Sanji gently countered, seeing nothing romantic in his actions. "And I would never dare to do so, no matter how beautiful and charming the girl might be. For me, there’s no one better than Zoro," Sanji smiled at Usopp, following the path of the captain’s soaring hat.

"Give me back my hat!" Luffy exploded, barely realizing what happened. "Are you picking a fight?!" he angrily exclaimed next.

There was a funny story behind that hat.

It turned out that it once belonged to Red-Haired Shanks, and before him — to none other than Gold Roger. Shanks gave it to Luffy and said he’d take it back when Monkey D. became stronger. And he really came to take the hat when Luffy became Pirate King.

Their battle... Sanji still remembered the tremor from Shanks' murderous Conqueror’s Haki.

Sanji wasn’t sure if Red-Haired Shanks had gone easy on Luffy, but Shanks lost. That’s how the hat stayed with Monkey D., becoming after the war against the World Government a symbol of the new era.

"What a pity, you’ve picked up a princess whose life is in danger," Robin continued to amuse herself, placing Luffy’s hat on her head. It looked cute. "On the other hand, the princess has a decent entourage. But the saddest part is that the route your Log Pose is set for leads to Little Garden Island. And we don’t even need to chase you. You’ll never make it to Alabasta, and you’ll never see Crocodile because you’ll die sooner."

"Yes, yes, you’re right!" Luffy impatiently shouted. "Now give me back my hat!" and stomped his foot again.

Sanji smiled. What a child.

Usopp finally descended onto the deck but hid behind him. Sanji didn’t mind, so he just smiled, continuing to observe.

Robin returned Luffy’s hat and threw Vivi an Eternal Pose pointing to an uninhabited island right before Alabasta.

With such developments, they could reach their goal without problems, but... Sanji knew what would happen next.

Back then, it drove him crazy.

In his youth, he thought Luffy was a complete idiot. Though, over twenty years later, it remained the same, but he simply accepted it.

If the captain wanted to leap into dangerous jungles in search of adventures, he would go alongside him, that’s all.

Luffy snatched the Eternal Pose from Vivi and crushed it in his fist. Before Nami hit him, Sanji stepped between them and pulled the mini-captain aside from her blow, resting a hand on his shoulder.

"Sanji, what are you doing!" Nami angrily shouted, ready to pounce on Monkey D. and tear him apart. "She just showed us an easy way! What if she’s really on our side?!"

"She’s not the one who decides where this ship will sail!" Luffy responded just as emotionally and irritably to the girl, continuing to stand next to the silently smiling cook, who wasn’t interfering in the situation at all.

With a surprised sigh, Robin shook her head and, saying they would definitely meet if the Mugiwara survived, moved from the Going Merry to her own transport, a large turtle, immediately distracting the little captain from the conflict and argument.

Leaning against the gunwale, Luffy pointed at the turtle and said:

"Sanji, could you cook her?"

"I could," he nodded, lighting a new cigarette and patting Monkey D. on the shoulder. "But then sweet All Sunday would be left without transportation."

"And we’re not ready for her to start traveling with us yet," Sanji mentally added, heading to the galley to prepare breakfast for the crew.

Dawn arrived, and a new day began, settling coolly on the deck of the Going Merry.

Sanji moved rhythmically around the tiny galley, preparing more than ten dishes to feed the children tired from the emotional turmoil of the night, needing rest. Continuing to hum that same melody, Sanji flipped pieces of meat in the pan when the galley door opened.

And, to his surprise, it wasn’t Luffy.

Zoro walked deeper into the galley, bypassing the helm, and looked at Sanji with a sufficiently ambiguous gaze, raising an eyebrow questioningly.

No matter how much he loved this guy, he still couldn't acquire the skill of reading his thoughts because they weren’t particularly close. 

"Zoro? Are you hungry? I’ll bring out a snack before breakfast, wait a little," Sanji smiled, assuming Zoro was sent by the kids as a negotiator or something like that.

Zoro remained silent and sat at the table.

Such behavior started to unnerve Sanji, who didn’t understand what was going on in that Moss-head and how to behave in such an ambiguous situation.

Taking a baked vegetable pie from the oven, which served as a light dish to pass the waiting time, Sanji set the tray aside and fully turned to Zoro.

"What’s wrong, Zoro?" Sanji asked somewhat tensely.

"Others may not notice anything," Marimo began, crossing his arms over his chest. "But I see everything. Who are you? Really just a cook from a small floating restaurant in East Blue?"

Zoro’s questions caught Sanji off guard.

An unlit cigarette slowly slipped from his mouth and was put back into the pack.

These two weeks, Sanji thought everything was fine, and his behavior fit within the norm.

He believed that the kids, especially Zoro, had accepted him as a crew member. So, everything before this was some sort of test, and he failed?

"What do you mean, Zoro?" Sanji decided not to cut corners and clarified with Marimo. He hoped he just misunderstood something. "I am me, former chef of Baratie, son of a retired pirate and restaurant owner, your cook and... I thought, comrade?" he mumbled uncertainly.

"They all love you, but they don’t see the obvious — that someone as strong as you was in East Blue, the 'weakest sea'? Luffy told me how easily you defeated members of Krieg’s crew, the most famous pirate of that damn sea. Your techniques, your knowledge... They can’t be obtained in East Blue. Not even from someone who’s been to the Grand Line!" he suddenly added for clarification, slamming his fist on the table. "Who. Are. You."

"Listen, Zoro," Sanji began softly, for the first time truly panicked.

He didn’t know what to do or say to reduce the level of distrust from Marimo, who rightfully held the position of first mate.

"This is all very complicated, but the main thing is — I’m not a threat to you and never will be! I cherish you, I treasure you more than my own life!"

Ussop, Nami, and Vivi, frozen at the threshold, looked bewildered at the scene before them, which their minds twisted into an episode from some cheap, cheesy romance novel with another confession from the main character to the rejecting heroine.

Peeking from behind their backs, Luffy loudly shouted:

"Sanji, where’s the food?!"

The situation was defused in time.

Sanji finished cooking breakfast, and when the nakama sat down to eat, he left the galley to clear his head.

What happened was the first time since being here that caused Sanji great fear.

He was incredibly frightened that Zoro’s perception of him could twist so much that he wouldn’t be able to earn his trust. The mere thought that even after returning to the past, he still wouldn’t be able to be happy almost triggered a panic attack.

But what options did he have?

Confess and say he’s from the future? Sanji wasn’t sure Time would allow it. Yes, everything was fine until now, but if he suddenly decided to do this... The knowledge he possessed was dangerous.

Imu wouldn’t just kill him if his time travel were revealed. He would be destroyed, along with everyone he ever loved. Imu wouldn’t tolerate the spread of truthful information about her, the Void Century, the World Government.

Continue lying?

But then he would increasingly arouse suspicion from Zoro, who at some point might decide that someone like him doesn’t belong on the ship.

The entire constructed behavior scheme crumbled like a house of cards.

Sanji’s mind was in turmoil, and his heart painfully thudded, still clinging to the fear for their budding relationship.

Lying was the only option that wouldn’t provoke their wrath prematurely. Taking a deep breath, Sanji slapped his cheeks, ordering himself to pull together.

Yes, Zoro doesn’t trust him. It hurts and it’s sad, but he mustn’t lose heart.

They’ve only known each other for two weeks; it’s not surprising. He needs to strive to earn his favor — only that way. How, if not by stepping up during battle? What’s coming up soon? Little Garden... Dorry and Brogy. Mr. 3 and his wax. Conversation with Crocodile.

He mustn’t screw up!

He will screw up.

Chapter Text

He needed to make a decision.

If he decided not to change anything, his nakama would suffer. Yes, eventually they would be fine, but…

Sanji wanted to protect them even from such minor injuries. How could he consider himself the eldest if he didn't take care of the little ones today?

In the past, he hadn't known what was happening with the nakama until he met them after talking with Crocodile.

Yes, maybe he wasn’t there at that moment, but he made a significant contribution to the subsequent fight against him. He needed to continue following the same tactics.

But at the same time, he had to somehow safeguard the youngsters!

He stood aside, nervously looking at the green canopies of Little Garden’s prehistoric trees, and as usual, did not participate in the conversation of the anxious nakama who didn’t know what awaited them ahead.

Smoking his third cigarette in a row, he heard the captain's voice, trembling with excitement, ordering to prepare "pirate rations."

When Sanji climbed to the upper deck, Luffy jumped towards him and said with a smile, entering the clean and tidy galley after breakfast:

"I'll help you!"

Sanji wasn’t surprised — Luffy often helped him, being present during cooking and eating whatever poorly lay around.

He was a good utilizer of those parts of the food that weren’t used for preparation but were still edible.

For example, apple peels. Sanji peeled them in one long strip, which disappeared into the mini captain's mouth. Zero waste production. Moreover, Luffy loved listening to his stories about food, its preparation, and the origin of various products.

Luffy sat on the table while Sanji started assembling the rations to his melodic whistle.

Cutting fruits for a light snack while the bread for sandwiches baked in the oven, he heard softly from behind:

"Why did you and Zoro have a falling out?"

Sanji flinched, and the knife he was using to slice the pear slipped.

A small cut on his index finger began to bleed. The blood, mixing with the pear juice on the cutting board, seemed like a mockery for him, the top-class cook, but a very foolish person.

Did he think no one would notice the distance that had arisen between him and Zoro a couple of days ago?

"Captain, I don’t quite understand what you mean," Sanji laughed, starting to rinse the wound. The water hit the finger strongly, but couldn’t drown out the worried swarm of thoughts in Sanji’s head. Since when did Luffy become so observant?! "Everything is fine, Zoro and I didn’t have a falling out."

"During yesterday's game, you ignored each other," Monkey D. pointed out the obvious fact, swinging his legs carelessly. With wide-open eyes, he looked directly at the cook leaning over the sink, whose finger had stopped bleeding long ago. "Don’t you love him?"

Mechanically washing the board, turning off the water, and returning to slicing the fruits, Sanji continued until all the prepared fruits were sorted into containers and it was time for the sandwiches.

They continued playing hide-and-seek in the evenings to develop Observation Haki, although Sanji included other types of activities in the boys’ training.

During yesterday's game, Sanji indeed didn’t draw Zoro’s attention when it was his turn to be "it," nor did he catch him during his own turn, though he could have done so easily despite having his eyes and ears closed.

Sanji simply tried not to unnecessarily irritate Marimo, so he decided to minimize their communication for now until he found a way out of the situation.

Isn’t this a reasonable action in their case?!

Zoro hadn’t said anything to him after that conversation, except for some brief phrases on everyday topics. Sanji was left only to guess what was going through his head!

"I love him," Sanji mumbled somewhat uncomfortably, speaking about love with Luffy, who even after marrying Law, still didn’t associate with the phrase “romantic relationships.” "More than anyone else. It’s just that right now… This is a small test for us. Training," Sanji found something to say, just to avoid telling the truth.

"Hm, is that so? Well then, alright," Luffy jumped off the table and, stealing a piece of ham that Sanji had sliced for the sandwiches, opened the galley door.

Before leaving, he smiled and said: "But honestly, I liked it better when you spent time together. Zoro was calmer. Finish your training soon!"

And he left, leaving Sanji alone with his heart pounding heavily in his chest.

After preparing rations for Luffy and water for Karoo, at the request of Vivi-chan, who decided to accompany Monkey D., Sanji silently watched as they moved away from the ship, disappearing into the jungle.

If he wanted to protect his nakama from danger, he needed to eliminate it. He had to kill Mr. Three and Mr. Five, but as for their companions… He would leave them to those who weren’t burdened by moral principles.

Jumping onto the ground and thereby drawing the attention of Zoro, who came ashore, and Nami and Usopp, who stayed on the ship, Sanji smiled, exhaling cigarette smoke:

"I’m going hunting; we need to get some meat while we’re here," he explained.

"You’re leaving us alone?!" Nami exclaimed indignantly.

"I’m sure you’ll be safe," Sanji responded with a charming smile to her disgruntled shout. "I’ll return as soon as possible."

And he cheerfully headed deep into the jungle, throwing a quick cautious glance at Marimo, who should have already gone in the other direction, but…

He was following him.

They walked like this for some time without saying a word to each other.

Voices of prehistoric birds echoed from the depths of the jungle, reminiscent of loud creaky clucking and melodious chimes.

Tall palms slightly swayed their green leaves, covering the overgrown ground with large shadows.

It was definitely summer on Little Garden, but a fairly mild one.

The sun didn’t scorch, burning the skin, but merely gently warmed. It was lively, but peaceful enough.

"Alright, I don’t understand!" Sanji suddenly stopped, turning to Zoro. "Why do you keep following me?" he exclaimed nervously, throwing up his hands.

Roronoa, who had stopped several steps away, gave him a long look from his long legs to his head.

Despite the fact that Curly Eyebrow hadn’t done anything wrong to the crew — on the contrary — he was still incredibly suspicious. Zoro wasn’t in the habit of pondering something for too long, so after observing for two weeks during their joint voyage, he decided to voice his suspicions. He needed to see how the cook would behave.

Curly Eyebrow’s words sounded sincere enough, and he didn’t give the impression of a lying person; his reaction wasn’t forced.

He was scared, but not because Zoro caught him in a lie. The nature of his fear was different and directly related to the feelings the cook had for him.

Zoro still didn’t understand it, although he no longer brushed off others' words and signs of affection as aggressively. It was inappropriate, but never intrusive.

The cook was an attentive and conscious person, but what served as one of the reasons for Zoro’s distrust of him was that he was too… erudite for his age.

Knowledge gained from his father, who was on the Grand Line? That was laughable! Zoro might not be very sharp, but he certainly wasn’t stupid enough to miss that all the cook’s knowledge was acquired by himself, not from a third party.

The cook spoke about things like Haki, for example, from the perspective of someone who gained experience through their own mistakes, repeated attempts, and long training sessions.

Zoro understood this because he was in a similar situation — Shimotsuki gave him just the basics, and everything else he acquired during his journey, which lasted until now.

But what about knowledge, the cook’s strength became what solidified in Roronoa’s mind the thought that Curly Eyebrow couldn’t be trusted, despite everything he did for them.

Perhaps Luffy talked like the last teenage fan, spewing more dozens of admiring exclamations than dry facts, but Zoro managed to get enough information to form a certain picture.

The cook was too strong for someone who grew up in East Blue. To believe that he was trained by that old man… Again, Zoro wasn’t that stupid.

The cook wasn’t as simple as he seemed.

And his unwillingness to tell the truth about himself, as well as the fact that he began avoiding Zoro after that conversation, reinforced his doubts.

Yes, he probably would never be dangerous to the crew. But his secrets… sooner or later they would backfire on all of them, Zoro was sure.

"To help with the hunt, we need a lot of meat. And to observe you," Zoro didn’t resort to deception, placing his hand on Wado. "What if you do something suspicious?" he chuckled mockingly.

"And why would I-" Sanji cut himself off mid-sentence.

He really was planning to do something suspicious right now! Damn it, why did Marimo follow him in the first place?! How could he then "unsuspiciously" find the house created by Mr. Three?

"Hm, well, even if I do, what can you do about it? I'm definitely stronger than you!" Sanji decided to change tactics. "Maybe you'll show me how strong you are? Let’s compete and see who gathers more carcasses."

"You intend to measure our strength through hunting?" Zoro raised an eyebrow, both confused and irritated.

"Do you think you can’t handle it?" Sanji smirked cockily and inwardly breathed a sigh of relief, noticing how youthful arrogance and the need for dominance swept away any common sense in Marimo. What a boy he still was. "Let’s meet at sunset at Merry Go."

"First, I’ll take down several dozen animals, then I’ll fight you," Zoro warned threateningly, glaring sternly at Sanji and pointing at him before hurrying off in the other direction.

Wiping the sweat from his forehead, Sanji lit a cigarette and went to where the infamous house supposedly was.

He wandered through the jungle for no less than an hour, and by his estimation, even more than two.

Dinosaurs and other prehistoric animals that crossed his path either ended up as dead carcasses or timely instincts made them flee.

When the thought crept in that this time he wouldn’t manage to find the house and everything would go according to a different scenario, Sanji finally noticed the white walls of a small cube in the middle of a clearing surrounded by bent palm trees.

He hid, observing the house.

The jungle behind him continued to live its life, chirping with bird voices, whistling with the wind, and rustling the palm leaves.

It was quiet and peaceful, at least in this part.

Less than half an hour passed with nothing happening — the people inside didn’t come out, and sounds didn’t reach Sanji’s location.

Brushing off his clothes, he decided it was time — and it was better to start earlier than to be too late.

Stepping into the clearing, he froze in shock, staring at the figure who had stopped on the opposite side…

"Zoro?! What are you doing here?!" Sanji exclaimed anxiously, so surprised that the cigarette fell from his mouth.

Marimo shouldn’t be here! What was going on, wasn’t he supposed to continue hunting?!

"I was just walking forward," Zoro shrugged, then pointed at the wax house questioningly: "What is this?"

"This..."

The wax door swung open, and Mr. Five appeared, disturbed by the noise and seeing only the swordsman due to the house's positioning. A shiver ran down the man’s spine, remembering the power this seemingly ordinary boy possessed. But even though they had been beaten last time, now they were ready to take revenge.

"You again!" Zoro said irritably, recognizing the familiar Baroque Works agent from Whiskey Peak, who wielded a fruit giving him the ability to blow up anything.

So they really were being pursued because of Vivi? Meaning that strange woman hadn’t lied.

"What’s got you frozen?" a female voice called indistinctly from inside the house. The blonde who peeked out, noticing who caused her partner’s stupor, hiccupped and pointed at the swordsman. "You again! You’ll pay for everything!" she screamed.

They had to complete their mission. Mr. Five and Miss Valentine emerged from the house, but they weren’t the only ones inside.

"What’s going on with you?" Mr. Three followed them onto the clearing. Noticing Zoro, he narrowed his eyes: "He’s one of those who needs to be eliminated! Information about our boss must die with you!" he threatened.

The wax began rapidly filling the clearing, heading straight for the battle-ready Zoro.

Fighting against wax with swords? That was the height of idiocy, but it was all Zoro had.

Watching everything unfold, Sanji realized that if he didn’t intervene, his Marimo would get hurt.

He had no choice.

Zoro, who had drawn his sword, exhaled in bewilderment when the cook appeared in front of him.

Zoro couldn’t even catch the moment he appeared beside him. These few seconds reinforced Zoro’s belief that the cook was far from as simple as he seemed.

Suddenly, a barely perceptible smell of burning reached Zoro.

It was as if dense fabric slowly but inevitably smoldered on coals.

"You need to choose an opponent who can put up a fight," Sanji addressed the stunned Mr. Three coldly and reproachfully, his bent right leg glowing so hot that the wax meant to bind Zoro melted before reaching its target.

His burned pants revealed black skin covered with Haki.

"Who are you?" Mr. Three involuntarily took a step back, staring bewildered at the guy whose leg inexplicably caught fire. Another fruit user? Did he possess the flame flame fruit?

"What the hell? What’s wrong with your leg?" Zoro noticed the terrible smell.

Even though Curly Eyebrow’s leg was covered with Armament Haki, it clearly wasn’t okay.

If supporting him came at such a cost, he refused it! He didn’t want any of his nakama to suffer because of him.

"It’s fine," Sanji exhaled and quietly added: "Please, deal with the girl. Unfortunately, my honor and principles won’t allow me to fight her, and then we might lose. But you aren’t burdened by morality, so all hope rests on you!" Sanji turned his head and, smiling at the boy, made a sudden and unexpected dash toward Mr. Three.

The man screamed, knocked down several palms at high speed.

Never before had people been able to harm him, let alone cause any discomfort! After all, he was a fruit user; he was wax! And this person, this… Who was he?!

The pain from the fiery kick spread throughout his body, awakening the forgotten sensation of weakness from years of using the fruit's power.

Lifting his head, Mr. Three spat out blood pooling in his mouth. He stared in shock at his trembling hand. The sunlight was blocked by the shadow looming over him.

No, a monster!

He had never seen humans capable of fighting fruit users like him. On his abdomen, the wax couldn’t heal the terrible gash left by the kick.

What kind of power lurked in this monster? What kind of people were in Mugiwara’s crew?!

Blinking, Mr. Three hoarsely shouted, spitting out more blood:

"Miss Golden Week, no!"

An explosion thundered in the distance from the combined attack of Mr. Five and his partner, who attacked the swordsman.

The tremor of a slight earthquake passed through the ground.

Sanji, taking a step back and noting how Zoro confidently fought against two opponents without needing help, turned his head.

A short girl with a palette and a large brush in her hand stared at him in confusion.

Sanji also looked at her uncomprehendingly.

What… what was supposed to happen?

Lowering his gaze along with hers, he noticed that he was standing in a yellow-green circle painted on the ground.

"Um, what is this?" he muttered uncertainly.

Another explosion boomed in the background.

"Don’t you want to do something?" she asked, puzzled.

"Return to Going Merry... if anything? Hey, careful!" Sanji dodged the girl when she lunged at him with the brush dipped in green paint.

He dodged her again and again, not giving her a chance to touch him. Although he didn’t fully understand what she intended to do, he decided to avoid her touch just in case.

"Stop and let me hypnotize you!" the girl, flushed from running, panted, stopping and stomping her foot adorably.

Sanji wanted to respond, to scold her like a true elder that she shouldn’t play with paints to hypnotize people, but a painful cry from Zoro compelled him to ignore the girl and rush to him.

Approaching the battlefield strewn with earth and broken palms, Sanji noticed that Mr. Five’s partner lay on the ground, arms and legs spread, while he himself pressed on Marimo, producing a series of explosions.

Looking at Zoro, whose clothes were torn in places, and burns marked his exposed skin, Sanji furiously struck Mr. Five in the stomach, applying all the strength available to him in this body.

His flight speed was dizzying. But he flew low. There would be rain.

"Zoro, how are you?" Sanji crouched next to the swordsman, extending his hand to examine more injuries and assess their severity. Biting his lip as the stubborn boy waved him off, Sanji hissed irritably, gripping the collar of his shirt: "Until we have a doctor, I’m in charge of your treatment! So set aside all suspicions for now and let me see how bad your wounds are, you damn idiot!"

Zoro blinked in surprise, not resisting due to the shock when the cook picked him up and carried him toward the white house.

Curly Eyebrow had yelled at him for the first time!

Heck, he had raised his voice for the first time since they knew each other. Coming to his senses already inside the house, created by one of the unconscious Baroque Works agents lying outside, Zoro surveyed it. It looked sparse and plain.

"What excessive self-confidence, why didn’t they bring a first aid kit?" Sanji grumbled, finding neither in the basket nor anywhere else anything resembling a first aid kit.

Leaning against the wall, Zoro observed the bustling cook silently for a while, a smirk on his lips. But at some point, his gaze dropped, and Roronoa remembered.

"Come here," he called.

"What?" the cook frowned distractedly, stopping.

"Come here, I said," Zoro said a bit louder.

Curly Eyebrow sat next to him, looking sadly at the burn marks on his skin.

Seriously, it wasn’t like he would die from this, what was the tragedy!

Zoro leaned forward and, firmly gripping the thin ankle, whose skin unpleasantly stuck to his fingers, placed the cook’s leg on his lap.

Ignoring the sounds Curly Eyebrow made, Zoro pulled the burned fabric of the pants leg to the knee and removed the shoe from the foot.

"Wait, Zoro, stop-!"

But it was already too late.

Sanji froze, perfectly aware of and feeling everything that was happening with his leg.

But he could endure it.

This pain was insignificant and, frankly, familiar. Feeling the fingers tightly gripping his ankle pull away from the skin with a wet sound, Sanji tried to pull his leg back, but Marimo didn’t let him, gripping the calf with his other hand.

"What the hell? Shouldn’t Armament Haki protect your skin? Why does it look like this… this?" Zoro rasped.

He had encountered many wounds, but what he saw… The cook’s skin on the foot and slightly above bled, peeled off in chunks, and emitted a barely noticeable smell of roasted meat, triggering nausea.

"Well? Why are you silent?!" Zoro snapped.

"It strengthens the leg during the kick and protects from others. But not from self-inflicted injuries, at least not in my case…" Sanji sighed, seeing no point in lying. "Everything will be fine, I’ll recover quickly," he smiled.

"Everything will be fine?! Do you hear yourself, this-!"

The sound coming from the small chest, which didn’t contain a first aid kit but had a Den Den Mushi, interrupted Zoro’s tirade.

Sanji perked up.

Could it be time for the conversation with Crocodile already? How long had they dealt with the agents?

Retrieving the Den Den Mushi from the chest and placing it on the table, Sanji answered the call.

"Hello," what did he say again? Ah, yes! "This is a shitty restaurant, wanna book a spot?"

"Very funny, smartass!" Hearing Crocodile’s voice after several years since their last meeting was thrilling. Yes, the voice of that Crocodile whom Sanji remembered was deeper and lower, but the general intonations hadn’t changed at all. "Why has your report been delayed?!"

Sanji and Zoro exchanged glances. Roronoa nodded, silently telling Sanji to continue the conversation.

"Yes, the report…" Sanji drawled.

"You’ve been silent since I gave you the order. Report the situation, Mr. Three… I asked you a question. Have you killed Princess Vivi and the Mugiwara pirates yet or not?" Crocodile’s stern, heavy voice was alien to Sanji’s ears, accustomed to the softer tone of Luffy’s parent.

Zoro perked up, tightening his fingers on the cook’s knee. That person he was talking to now, was he the mentioned Mr. 0, Sir Crocodile?

"Yes, I completed my mission, no need to worry. The people who knew your secret are no longer alive, so there’s no need to chase anyone anymore," Sanji sang sweetly.

"Good job. The Unluckies are already on their way to you. As soon as they confirm the completion of the mission, they will deliver a special package to you."

"A package?" Sanji clarified, lowering his legs to the floor after Zoro released his grip and stood up, drawing Wado and preparing for the arrival of the Unluckies.

Putting on his shoe, he continued listening to Mr. 0.

"Exactly. The Eternal Pose to Alabasta. As soon as you receive it, immediately proceed with Miss Golden Week to Alabasta. The time has come… We must execute the key step of our plan," the smugness in Crocodile’s voice seeped through even the Den Den Mushi.

"Alright, I understand," Sanji said hurriedly and, noticing the Unluckies frozen in the round windows, muttered: "See you soon," and quickly ended the call at the exact moment Zoro clashed with the bird.

Dealing with the animals wasn’t difficult at all, even in such tight quarters.

Kicking a rodent (or whatever animal it was) closer to his partner, Sanji fixed his bangs and, rummaging through the dead bodies, found the coveted item.

The Eternal Pose.

"Are we good partners or what?" he smirked smugly, finally lighting a cigarette and taking a deep drag.

"Hm," Zoro squinted, looking at the retreating cook. Maybe he was right. And Curly Eyebrow wasn’t so bad.

Chapter Text

They walked several steps away from the wax house and the battlefield where their opponents still lay unconscious when the ground shook from the eruption of a volcano standing at a distance from their location.

"I think we should go there," Sanji nodded towards the volcano, exhaling cigarette smoke leisurely.

He didn't know exactly where Dorry and Brogy were fighting since he had met them already on the shore, but as far as he remembered from his nakama's stories, their battles took place not far from the volcano.

Or so it seemed.

"Can you still walk with legs like that?" Zoro grumbled after minutes of peaceful silence.

The wax house behind them disappeared behind thick plantings of prehistoric plants softly rustling under the power of the wind gusts.

Bird calls sounded here and there, interrupted by the shrill cries of pterodactyls and the flapping of wings.

Under their feet, fallen leaves and branches crunched.

"I can not only walk but also fight if necessary," Sanji chuckled merrily.

He still couldn’t believe he managed to bring his crazy plan to life. His nakama would remain safe — whole and unharmed, never even meeting the Baroque Works agents on this island.

"But I appreciate your concern."

"If you have the strength to spout this nonsense, then you're definitely fine," Zoro irritably rolled his eyes, and a soft, quiet laugh echoed him.

"I'll always have the strength to flirt with you, Marimo-kun," Sanji winked and laughed again as Zoro grimaced in distaste. Then, suddenly remembering, he added: "By the way, about strength! I completely forgot about our competition in all this commotion. Did you catch any prey?"

Zoro blinked several times, then turned back with a complex expression.

He had forgotten too. And he had left everything he managed to catch there.

But he certainly wouldn’t be able to find his way back.

He sighed almost inaudibly. It wasn’t that he wanted to fight Curly Eyebrow after what he saw, but it was unpleasant to lose the bet. Still, there was a positive side.

"You didn't catch anything either," Zoro noted with some satisfaction, realizing he wasn’t the only one who lost.

A draw was good when it came to an argument with this “too perfect” cook who excelled in everything he did. Besides, instead of catching prey, they fought enemies and gained something much more significant.

"That’s true," Sanji sighed and fell silent as they stepped into a large open space, littered with uprooted and split-in-half palm trees.

Sanji squinted, observing Brogy standing over the defeated Dorry.

What could not be denied about giants was their astonishingly long lifespan, within a small segment of which an entire human life fit.

The giants looked just as Sanji remembered them, as if those twenty-some years hadn’t passed.

The tragedy of the giants, who fought each other for a hundred years, was unclear to Sanji because he wasn’t close to them like his other nakama, but he still felt regret that the victory came this way.

Unfortunately, they couldn’t change anything now.

"Are these enemies?" Zoro whispered almost inaudibly, placing his hand on the hilt of his sword.

"Why are you asking me?" Sanji blinked in surprise.

"You’re the one who knows everything," Zoro said with some biting sarcasm, smirking brazenly.

Sanji looked at him with unexpected vulnerability, making Zoro frown warily.

Sanji couldn’t understand Zoro — he couldn’t grasp what was going on in his head, why this foolish boy was ready to rely on the opinion of someone he didn’t trust.

Was this another test?

But Zoro himself wasn’t yet acquainted with the giants and didn’t know how they were connected to his crew, so they were potential enemies to him. Did that mean his opinion was still authoritative to him?

"Stop looking at me like that," Zoro muttered indignantly, slightly louder, covering the visible eye of the cook with his palm.

"Who’s there?!" Brogy’s voice boomed as he sharply turned towards them. "Who are you?!"

"We’re the nakama of the guy with the hat, the long-nosed guy, and the red-haired girl; you might’ve seen them," Sanji loudly proclaimed, turning his head and thereby making Zoro remove his hand.

He wanted to ask him to put it back — it felt nice to feel the warmth and light pressure of the touch.

"Nakama of Nami and Usopp? I left them over there," Brogy shook his head, speaking more calmly but noticeably sadder.

He turned away from them, and Sanji, seeing that the giant believed he had killed his friend, approached closer.

"Your companion needs medical help... I can try to assist," Sanji began cautiously, looking at the lying Dorry before him. He really looked dead. There was no noticeable movement in his chest, as if he wasn’t breathing at all. But Sanji knew that wasn’t the case. "I’m not a doctor, but I know a lot and can do much."

"How do you plan to help a corpse?" Brogy bitterly uttered with tears in his eyes.

"He’s alive," Sanji firmly stated in a soft, steady voice, looking resolutely at Brogy. "Believe me."

Before Brogy could say anything, Vivi, Nami, and Usopp ran onto the clearing, anxious and bewildered.

"Sanji, Zoro!" Nami shouted, reaching them. "There are Baroque Works agents on the island! They beat up Karoo and added explosives to Dorry’s beer barrel!"

Brogy emitted a dull sound, taking a few steps back and looking ahead in horror.

So explosives had been added to the beer he shared with Dorry? Victory shouldn’t have been achieved this way! It was an unfair, dirty victory!

If his friend had truly died, he wouldn’t have been able to live with the realization of what he had done.

But the boy’s words sounded so convincing that Brogy wanted to believe Dorry was alive.

"Ah, anything else?" Sanji raised an eyebrow in surprise, offering his shoulder to the girl so she could lean on it and catch her breath.

"What do you mean ‘anything else’?" Vivi asked back, looking somewhat pained at the sight of the motionless Dorry lying on the ground, injured because of her.

If she hadn’t followed the Mugiwara crew, Dorry-san would be whole and unharmed. She was leaving more and more bodies in her wake...

"No, we didn’t see anyone," Usopp shook his head, "but we learned about it when Karoo returned, and then we pieced all the facts together," he thoughtfully touched his chin and then added fearfully, "Did they come for us to eliminate us?"

"We didn’t ask," Zoro shrugged. "But clearly not to give us presents. By the way, where’s Luffy?"

"I think we can handle it like this: Brogy-san will go with part of us to rescue Luffy from trouble, and someone will go with me to prepare a healing broth for Dory-san," Sanji clapped his hands after listening to Vivi’s rushed explanation about the situation with Luffy and their encounter with Dorry.

"Dorry-san is alive?!" the girl exclaimed, throwing a quick, distrustful glance at the motionless giant lying on the ground.

"Yes," Sanji confidently nodded, lighting a cigarette. "If you want to make sure, we can ask Brogy-san to check his friend’s pulse."

"I didn’t even think of that," Brogy said heavily but somewhat confused, kneeling down and pressing his fingers to Dorry’s wrist. Holding his breath and focusing all his attention, a steady, albeit weak, pulse beat under his fingers. "Yes. Yes, you’re right."

Sanji smiled. Of course, he was right; it couldn’t have been otherwise.

They decided to split up after all. This time, Sanji went with the girls, while Usopp and Zoro went with Brogy to rescue Luffy.

Making their way through the jungle, Sanji slowly and in detail answered the ladies' questions about their battle with the Baroque Works agents.

When his monologue reached Crocodile’s call, Sanji stopped, causing the girls to stop as well, and took the Eternal Pose out of his pocket.

"He called for this exact reason. The Unluckies brought the Eternal Pose to Alabasta," he handed it to Nami, as their navigator, but looked at Vivi. "We won’t need to wait a whole year to reach your kingdom, my princess," Sanji gently smiled, then exhaled in surprise when Vivi threw herself at him, hugging him.

Sanji carefully closed his arms around her without touching her body with his palms without her permission.

He could squeeze and touch Luffy, Usopp, or even Zoro as much as he wanted, but he would never allow himself such familiarity with the girls.

He cherished their tender, soft, and fragile bodies, which concealed remarkable strength, endurance, and resilience. What a woman's body was capable of was unimaginable.

And Sanji revered it, as he did every woman he encountered throughout his life. Women were his sanctuary, which Sanji couldn’t touch with his dirty hands without their permission.

When Vivi pulled away, looking warmly and gratefully at him, Sanji smiled affectionately with a heavy, wistful feeling in his heart.

She was still such a little girl, burdened with so much suffering that Sanji wanted to hide her in his breast pocket from all the upcoming battles and losses.

"Thank you," Vivi breathed.

"Anything for you," Sanji bowed his head.

"Am I bothet you?" Nami grumbled discontentedly, crossing her arms over her chest.

"Oh, no, Nami-san," Sanji guiltily cooed, resuming the journey to Merry Go. "You’ll never be a bother, my dear, in whatever circumstances we find ourselves. Your presence brightens my miserable existence."

"I thought your miserable existence was brightened by Zoro’s presence?" Nami smirked, not feeling repulsed by the cook’s words, which would have caused a face spasm and the urge to wash the skin with soap if spoken by another man.

Sanji’s compliments were always full of admiration but also distant respect — he never crossed the line of what was allowed. Moreover, his compliments were always sincere and skillful.

If Nami weren’t into girls, she would have fallen for Sanji long ago.

"Ah, speaking of Zoro," Vivi suddenly spoke and blushed a little. "I never had a chance to ask about it during the voyage, Cook-san. Are you and Swordsman-san in a relationship? I haven’t seen you behave the same way as before… Did you have a fight?" Vivi asked sympathetically.

Nami started laughing loudly and nearly fell over.

She knew that these idiots’ antics would eventually catch up with them! All this mess couldn’t pass without consequences.

Glancing at her in confusion, Vivi returned her attention to Sanji, convinced that the cook and swordsman were indeed in a relationship.

"The thing is, Zoro and I were pretending to deceive you," Sanji awkwardly exhaled cigarette smoke. "And we’re not together."

"But then you… When you went upstairs, well…" the girl’s cheeks reddened even more at the mere thought of “that,” and Nami laughed even harder, causing her to stop, making everyone else stop too.

"That was also a deception," Sanji tousled his hair, lowering his gaze. Of course, he wished it weren’t so, but that was the truth.

"Oh, and what about your feelings?" she cautiously and somewhat uncertainly asked.

"In this case, fortunately — or unfortunately, depending on how you look at it — it’s all true. I really do love him," Sanji grinned widely, looking at the princess.

They reached Going Merry, and Sanji started cooking.

As he had said, the main dish was broth, which Sanji prepared in their largest pots. He made it rich but not too fatty or heavy for the recovering body to digest.

Using the best combination of spices and a large number of ingredients, each additionally prepared before being submerged in the golden broth, Sanji created another masterpiece while simultaneously preparing other dishes for his crew.

Nami and Vivi tasted each dish, sharing their impressions and admiration for the indescribable taste.

Everything Sanji cooked was divine — his food, seemingly composed of the most ordinary ingredients, surpassed in taste everything they had ever tried.

The intoxicating aroma nearly drove them mad. Being in the kitchen without the ability to taste everything Sanji was cooking could even be called torture.

But he would never allow himself to torture his dear ladies, so he gladly fed them during the cooking process, smiling contentedly at their praise.

Soon they heard the voices of their nakama and the giant outside, followed by the stomping on the deck, abruptly halted by the opening of the galley door.

"Sanji, food!" Luffy impatiently shouted, sneaking under the cook’s arm to quickly snatch something from the preparations.

Sanji laughed, embracing the disheveled little captain clinging to him and preventing him from eating everything that awaited its turn on the pans and in the pots.

He gave him a few meat rolls, and Luffy nearly swallowed the plate whole. Sanji clicked his tongue, wiping the oil-smeared, smiling mouth of the boy with a napkin, and pinched his nose, gently saying:

"I’ll finish in less than an hour. That should be enough for you not to eat the entire galley."

"You cook so deliciously that I’m always hungry!" Luffy pouted, hanging onto Sanji. "I could eat your cooking from morning till night," the boy dreamily smiled. "Oh, and by the way, the guys told me what you and Zoro did! You’re so cool!"

Sanji affectionately laughed.

Endless affection spread warmly in his chest. Sanji faithfully and devotedly loved his captain, no matter how old he was.

There was no “his” or “not his” Luffy; he was always the same in the cook’s mind.

Sanji hugged the boy, and Luffy willingly wrapped his noodle-like arms around him, stretching his fingers toward the preparation table.

But Sanji slapped them without even turning around or opening his eyes. Luffy whined discontentedly but eventually submitted and soon left the kitchen, prodded by an unhappy Nami.

As he had said, Sanji finished in less than an hour.

He brought all the numerous dishes to the deck, spreading intoxicating scents that shocked the olfactory receptors. With Zoro and Usopp’s help, he transferred everything to the shore, and then stood before Brogy with a pot of broth.

"You need to position Dorry-san comfortably now and give him the broth," he said with a smile, exhaling cigarette smoke.

Brogy did as Sanji instructed, bringing the pot — which in his hand seemed like a small mug — to Dorry’s slightly open mouth. He began to slowly pour the broth into him.

Everyone, except Luffy entirely absorbed in eating, froze, watching this.

Nothing happened for ten seconds, fifteen, twenty…

But on the thirtieth second, Dorry opened his eyes and swiftly grabbed the tilted pot with his hand, greedily gulping down the broth to the last drop.

"What a miracle!" he shouted loudly, causing the ground beneath them to tremble slightly. "I’ve never felt healthier, fuller of strength and energy! What kind of nectar is this? An incredible healing drink!"

Everyone joyfully cheered, and the feast in honor of Dorry and Brogy officially began.

Chapter Text

The sunset slowly painted the sky over Little Garden with orange hues. Cheerful youthful voices were belting out songs, scaring away wildlife within a radius of several dozen meters.

Empty beer barrels stood in an even column. On their surface, plates were stacked, waiting for their turn to be taken aboard the ship along with the rest of the dishes.

"Are you joking?!" Luffy exclaimed in delight, jumping up in response to another story from the giants about their joint adventures, temporarily interrupting the tenth round of singing "Binks' Sake."

Having finished the remaining broth meant for Dorry-san, he was now healthier than everyone gathered. Energy was pouring out of him like wine from an uncorked barrel during a storm.

Sanji glanced at him from his spot and softly chuckled, exhaling cigarette smoke and taking the last plates off the beer barrels.

Oh, there was more to come — they would have to endure no fewer dangerous, amazing, and incredible events, many of which Sanji wished to change so that his little nakama wouldn't suffer but would gain the necessary experience for personal growth.

After taking the remaining dishes to the galley, Sanji shrugged his shoulders, deciding to treat the wounds on his legs before their imminent departure while the youngsters were occupied onshore.

Regeneration worked decently for his young body, but significantly worse than what Sanji was used to.

Because of this, he hadn’t allowed his legs to fully heal since they left Baratie, and quite a few days had passed already.

Regular situations arose where freshly healing skin faced strong destructive impacts, starting the process all over again.

Again, it wasn’t as if it greatly troubled Sanji.

If he had injured his hands — yes, he would have started worrying and taking more active measures. But his legs? They were his weapons, constantly (though not continuously) used in clashes with opponents; avoiding this was impossible.

So yes, everything was fine.

Sanji slipped off his shoes, which he cleaned and treated every night before bed from skin particles and traces of blood.

Wearing socks or stockings would be an even more idiotic decision in his case, so Sanji only bandaged his feet when the wounds were fresh to prevent any infections.

Rolling the cigarette in his mouth, Sanji unbandaged his right foot, which was in slightly worse condition than the left.

Sanji couldn’t spread his toes or move them actively because the skin between them was torn and began to bleed with the slightest attempt.

Opening a pre-prepared burn ointment, Sanji began applying it to his toes and sole, paying special attention to the sides, where burns caused discomfort when wearing shoes.

Suddenly, out of the corner of his eye, he noticed movement on the table, on one of the stacks of dishes.

For several long seconds, his brain processed this information without diverting from the truly important task, then Sanji froze.

A cold shiver of impending horror ran through his body, settling heavily in his lower abdomen.

Sanji swallowed loudly, slowly, almost without breathing, turning his gaze.

A scream caught in his throat as he saw a huge, terrifying insect that his mind, submerged in animal fear, simply couldn’t describe.

The creature was eating the remnants of food on the plate, buzzing faintly.

Yes, Sanji was forty-seven years old.

Yes, Sanji was a member of the Pirate King’s crew.

Yes, Sanji was one of the strongest people of his time.

But he still feared insects.

At some point, this spawn of hell stopped buzzing.

And it flew up.

Sanji nearly screamed in terror, which paralyzed his body, preventing him from rushing out.

The creature kept circling around the small space of the galley, making sounds that promised to haunt Sanji's worst nightmares.

Then it landed. Not on the table, not on the floor, not on the dirty dishes.

But on Sanji’s right foot, attracted by the smell of blood.

The galley door suddenly opened, and Sanji immediately turned a panicked gaze to the entering Marimo, parting his lips in a silent cry for help.

"We are going to say goodbye to Dorry and Brogy, are you not… Cook?" Zoro frowned, taken aback by the look the Curly Eyebrow gave him.

It was an unusually vulnerable, full of fear and plea look.

Zoro tensed and was ready to grab his swords. Dozens of thoughts raced through his mind about what could have happened, each worse than the last.

But then Zoro noticed it.

A multicolored insect the size of a sparrow or slightly larger, with an elongated spider-like body, very large mandibles — or whatever they were called — and many legs.

It sat on the cook’s foot, who had paled so much that his skin seemed to take on a deathly white hue.

Yes, the creature was unsightly and rather creepy, but Zoro thought something serious had happened! Not just an “attack” by some prehistoric bug.

"Please, Zoro, get rid of it," Sanji whispered barely audibly, looking pleadingly at the swordsman. "Get it off me."

Zoro sighed, rolling his eyes and clicking his tongue.

As if this was something to panic about.

He took a step toward Curly Eyebrow, who seemed to stop breathing altogether, and leaned down, reaching out to grab the insect and throw it out of the galley.

As if sensing his movement, the insect buzzed and flew up, but Zoro was faster, swiftly and powerfully slicing the creature in half with one stroke.

"My savior!" Sanji exhaled raggedly, relaxing in place.

Yes, it had been a while since he experienced such stress from encountering insects.

"Seriously?" Zoro said with a mischievous smirk, crossing his arms over his chest after sheathing his sword. "Our great and mighty cook is afraid of tiny insects?"

"Tiny?!" Sanji exclaimed indignantly, quickly and skillfully re-bandaging his feet, which felt somewhat... disgusting to handle now. He raised a dissatisfied look at Marimo. "You look at this thing — it’s as big as a bird!" Sanji’s voice rose. "I’ll see it in my damn nightmares..." he muttered resentfully afterward, but quieter. "We need to get off this island as soon as possible."

"Speaking of which," Zoro remembered, nodding.

With this absurd situation, he forgot why he came initially. First, he was thrown off by how the cook looked at him (echoes of his feelings about it still sounded at the edge of his consciousness, troubling his mind with strange and incomprehensible anxiety), then he got distracted by the insect, which terrified the seemingly fearless cook — a major shock.

"Come on, we’re saying goodbye to Dorry and Brogy. Luffy told me to bring you."

Sanji stood up.

His right foot itched phantasmically, as if tiny spider legs were still treading on the numb skin, rummaging through bloody pieces.

Shaking his shoulders, Sanji nervously lit a cigarette, following the mini Marimo outside.

Night had almost completely taken over the sky, with only the distant lights of the departing day lingering near the quiet waters. The wind slipped through thick strands of hair, caressing the back of his neck.

Sanji exhaled smoke, enjoying the coolness of the evening after the stifling heat of the day.

They descended onto the shore, where it was already clean and tidy — even the barrels were nowhere to be seen.

Sanji rolled the cigarette in his mouth and planted his feet more firmly into the sand, embracing the slightly tousled but still happy Luffy who rushed at him. Sanji smiled, pinching the boy's cheek.

"Why were you gone so long?" Luffy asked, settling into the cook's embrace and perceptively adding: "Did something happen? Zoro?" Luffy peeked from behind Sanji’s shoulder and looked intently at Zoro.

"Nothing serious," Zoro shrugged with a calm expression.

Sanji wanted to look at him, to peer into his golden eyes to once again unsuccessfully try to guess what was happening in the head of this damn boy, but with Luffy in his arms, it was hard to do.

Why was he so... so... incomprehensible!

Inside, Sanji fumed because despite all the years of their shared voyage, he still hadn’t managed to figure out what was going on in that moss-covered head.

And even now, when Marimo was simpler than ever, without the burden of experience and responsibility, he was still difficult to understand.

"Well, alright," Luffy smiled carefree, adjusting his hat and turning his attention to the new friends. "Hey, we’re setting sail!"

"You guys are busy, aren’t you?" Brogy chuckled.

"Pity. We won’t hold you back," Dorry added, showing no trace of what had happened to him just a few hours ago. After all, Sanji — the divine cook — his food could even bring someone back from the dead.

"See you again!" Luffy jumped off Sanji's arms onto the Going Merry. Once on deck, he started waving both hands like a little child: "Don’t get into trouble anymore!"

The giants laughed.

On such a warm note, the others also began boarding the ship.

Sanji and Zoro went up last. They needed to prepare Merry for departure, so together with Usopp, who was sniffling due to the touching farewell, they handled tasks under Nami-san’s guidance that had become routine during their short time sailing together.

After the Going Merry set off, slowly moving forward to exit the island into the sea, Sanji returned to the galley, deciding to finally tackle the dishes since preparations for breakfast and lunch needed to be made by the next day.

Rolling up his sleeves and whistling "Binks’ Sake," Sanji listened to the voices outside.

At one point, Luffy pointed out that he saw the giants who decided to accompany them.

Sanji remembered the goldfish and lightly chuckled. When they found out that Usopp was a god, everything became clear.

He wasn’t a prophet predicting the existence of certain beings. He literally was their creator.

People’s belief in his "tales," like in the case of the goldfish with his young companions whose names Sanji couldn’t remember, and his future wife, Kaya, was enough for the island-eating goldfish to come into being.

Beings didn’t appear at the moment Usopp first mentioned them. If he said they existed long before his birth, then by that first mention, they indeed did exist, regardless of who or what it was. The power of his divine influence on the world was terrifying, and when they realized this, it took a long time to recover. Especially Usopp.

Thoughts are material — that’s all about God Usopp.

The ship shook, and Sanji slightly leaned forward, gripping the sink with wet fingers.

Probably, the Going Merry had just flown through the goldfish thanks to Dorry and Brogy.

Sanji smiled, rolling the cigarette in his mouth as the galley door swung open and an excited Luffy flew in.

"You can’t imagine what just happened!" Luffy exclaimed agitatedly.

"I heard. The fish was pretty big," Sanji softly laughed, unfortunately unable to ruffle the captain’s hair because his hands were soapy.

"Ah, so much food could have been prepared from it," Luffy sighed dejectedly, then curiously looked around the galley: "You’ll make us dinner, right?"

"I’ll cook steaks for you, and something light for the others before they go to sleep, okay?" Sanji cast a warm glance at the captain.

"Of course!" Luffy nodded with a wide, satisfied smile and ran out, leaving Sanji alone with the dishes.

Handling multiple tasks simultaneously wasn’t too difficult, so Sanji washed dishes, prepared meat for frying, and chopped vegetables for salad.

This was his usual state — meditative execution of actions learned to reflexes that didn’t require significant mental effort.

Sanji moved around the small space, finishing one task and starting another, lightly dancing to the songs in his head.

When he grew hot, probably due to the stove, he rolled up his sleeves further and unbuttoned a couple of buttons, not paying much attention to it.

After all, his kitchen was so small, it wasn’t surprising he felt a bit stuffy.

When the dressed salad, looking more like a proper restaurant dish, was ready and stored in the fridge to cool, Sanji paused, leaning against the countertop, and fanned himself a couple of times with his hand, which he then touched to his cheek.

It was uncomfortably hot, as were his forehead and the back of his neck upon checking.

Sanji frowned, not understanding why he was burning up.

There was no other discomfort, — no headache, nausea, or weakness in his body. He was just hot, and the sensation intensified over time.

Deciding to deal with it when everyone dispersed to sleep, Sanji continued cooking and preparing tomorrow’s meals, occasionally pausing to apply something cold to his forehead.

Heat spread throughout his body but settled in his legs with the familiar feeling of burning skin.

Sanji even checked a couple of times — there was no external fire, but this only confused him further and didn’t help understand the reason for such a strange bodily reaction.

When dinner for the nakama was ready, Sanji cracked open the door and called the kids, standing against the wall and lighting a cigarette.

He flicked the lighter several times, only managing to light the cigarette tip on the third try.

His palms were hot, and the metal of the lighter felt unpleasant, like cutlery had some time ago.

With loud commotion, the kids piled into the galley, where their dinner was already set on the table, along with light herbal drinks aiding quick digestion and easy sleep.

Sanji silently stood aside, softly smiling in response to the thanks from the nakama seating themselves, who noticed nothing strange since externally Sanji appeared as usual — he checked his reflection multiple times, which showed no signs of his bones, figuratively speaking, melting inside.

Sanji exhaled smoke, pensively gazing sideways.

He didn’t understand what his body could be reacting to.

This couldn’t be attributed to the awakening of Germa’s blood. One of the reasons Sanji checked his reflection was also to look for changes in his appearance that accompanied the awakening and subsequent use of all cursed blood abilities.

But the curls on his head remained light, and his eyebrows were correctly oriented.

"...-ji? Sanji!" Luffy's voice reached him.

Sanji blinked, surfacing from his thoughts and memories of how unpleasant it was to look at his black hair, which didn’t suit him at all.

The cigarette in his fingers had smoldered and gone out.

Sanji turned his head towards the kids and raised an eyebrow in surprise when met with their collective frightened gaze.

Did something happen to one of them? Choking? An allergy he didn’t know about?

"What-" Sanji abruptly cut himself off.

He touched his lips with his fingers, bewilderedly glancing at the blood stains that were flowing profusely from his nose, staining his lips, chin, and even his shirt.

"Everything’s fine, this might be due to me being a bit stressed today," Sanji softly chuckled, trying to reassure the almost gray-with-worry nakama.

He turned to the sink to wash his face but felt a lump rising rapidly up his throat, akin to vomiting.

Sanji clutched the sink and trembled.

The scraping feeling in his throat was so painful, accompanied by the sensation of his body burning from within, that Sanji coughed, trying to cover it with his hand.

His hand was stained with blood.

"Sanji!" Luffy exclaimed again, this time more seriously and anxiously, rising from the table.

"Everything’s fine," Sanji mumbled, trying to brush off their concern. He still felt normal except for these moments. His head didn’t hurt, his arms and legs obeyed perfectly, and his vision was clear and sharp. But what the hell was this?! "I’m fi-"

"Sanji!" Luffy cried out again, stretching out his hands to catch the suddenly falling cook. Everyone bustled and rose from the table to be closer to Luffy. "He’s burning up," Monkey D.’s voice was bewildered, as if he couldn’t comprehend how such a strong person could just faint.

"We need to take him to the cabin," Zoro crouched beside him, giving Curly Eyebrow a careful look. He appeared as if he was simply sleeping. Yes, with a bloodstained face, but not sickly or exhausted. "Come on, Luffy, I'll carry him."

Luffy handed Sanji to Zoro, who understood what the captain meant as soon as the heavy body of their cook was in his arms.

Curly Eyebrow didn’t just have a fever; his skin was so hot it burned Roronoa through layers of clothing.

Direct contact was impossible, as it felt like touching a red-hot kitchen stove.

Zoro descended into the men’s cabin and laid the cook on the couch.

Following Roronoa, everyone else came down, noisily and anxiously discussing what could have happened to Sanji.

The cook quietly and calmly breathed, slightly trembling his long black eyelashes. Zoro pondered why his head hair was light while all other hairy areas (the cook was quite hairy) were black.

"-we need to wipe the blood off his face," a firm but slightly worried voice of Nami reached him. "Zoro, did you hear? You need to wipe his face," the girl raised her voice.

"Why me?" the swordsman frowned. It wasn’t that he was disgusted by the cook's blood.

After all, just a few hours earlier, he held in his hands his almost minced feet... Right, feet!

Zoro knelt at the cook's feet, removing his shoes and thinking bitterly and ironically to himself that this lovesick idiot would surely have said something romantic right now.

The once-white bandages were soaked in blood and looked rather... bad.

"Oh my god, what happened to his feet?!" Vivi exclaimed in horror, watching as Zoro slowly removed the bandages, revealing burnt and bloody patches of skin on his feet, with no intact spot left. "Did this happen after your encounter with Mr. Three?"

"In part," Zoro dryly muttered.

Essentially, they looked the same as a couple of hours ago when Zoro came to the cook to call him outside.

Only now, blood was turning the cook’s feet into a nauseating bloody mess.

"How long have you known about this?" Luffy’s voice softly sounded, his frown fixed on Sanji’s face.

"During the battle with Mr. Three. I’m not particularly close with him to share something like this without reason," Zoro sighed, moving the bloody bandages aside.

He didn’t like the subtext of the question, but he understood that the captain was just worried about Curly Eyebrow. 

"And you?" Nami snapped, previously discussing with Usopp which medical supplies they had to reduce the fever. "Out of all of us, you're the only one close to him, Zoro."

Zoro shot a displeased glance at Nami, who stubbornly stared back.

Arguing with Luffy was pointless, but the witch stirred in Zoro a desire to quarrel.

"Guys, let’s not fight. We all need to unite to take care of Sanji-san until he gets better," Vivi softly and somewhat helplessly said, thinking how Sanji was the one who kept the crew from conflicts.

"And will he get better?" Usopp murmured almost inaudibly. Everyone shot angry glances at him, and Usopp raised his hands: "We don’t even know what happened to him! How can we be sure he’ll get better?"

"He will get better," Luffy sharply and firmly cut in, his unusually serious voice chilling everyone present. "And if not, I’ll turn the world upside down, but I’ll find a doctor who will cure him."

Luffy stood up, adjusting his hat. No one doubted that he would do it.

Chapter Text

Usopp hurriedly descended into the men's cabin with a towel over his shoulder, tightly holding a small medical bag.

It was on the galley — where Sanji usually treated their wounds and bruises that typically occurred during games but also happened to the clumsy boys in other cases.

He knew best about the medications lying in the first aid kit since he was the one who filled it with everything necessary.

When he came down, throwing the towel over the back of the couch and placing the medical bag with a dull thud before Nami, who was preparing to measure Sanji's temperature (which seemed like a futile attempt since it was already obvious that he was burning like a hot stove), Zoro shifted his gaze from him to the sleeping cook.

His face was serene and calm, long black eyelashes slightly trembling as if he were about to open his eyes.

But the cook continued to sleep.

He didn’t react to words or touches. And this irritated them — the one who keenly responded to whispers and turned at a glance now seemed not within arm’s reach but hundreds of steps ahead.

And between them lay an abyss.

Nami hissed when she took out the thermometer, crumpling the cook’s jacket and shirt.

The girl slouched slightly, trying to understand what the thermometer indicated, then whispered almost inaudibly:

"This is simply impossible," Nami sharply raised her head, looking at Sanji’s face. Panic from the incomprehension of the situation settled heavily in her throat. She had seen a lot in her life, but… "How can he still be breathing at 54 degrees Celsius? A human dies already at 43!"

Nami began rummaging through the medications, trying to find something to reduce the fever, but she thought it was useless — what could possibly work at such a temperature?

His internal organs should already be well-cooked, considering how long he had been in this state.

Nami picked up a bottle of medical alcohol and silently stared at it for several long moments. She was grateful to Bellmère for everything she had taught her.

Nami turned and looked at Zoro.

The swordsman met her gaze with a frown and seriousness, as if she were about to say that there was nothing they could do for the cook and they would have to leave him to die.

Nami suppressed the urge to roll her eyes.

"You need to wipe him down to lower his body temperature. Well, as much as we can," Nami added less resolutely, sighing.

She wasn't sure of anything. How could they talk about reducing the temperature of someone who should already be dead by all biological laws?!

"Wipe down his body?" Zoro raised an eyebrow, staring at Nami in confusion. Vivi and Usopp, who were in the cabin, also looked at the girl in bewilderment. "With medical alcohol?"

Nami rolled her eyes after all.

Without Sanji, it felt like she was in a room with children who didn’t know basic things about health and medicine.

"Yes, Zoro. With medical alcohol," the girl emphasized, standing up and tossing the bottle of alcohol to the swordsman. "It will work faster than cold water. We’ll give him some dissolved fever reducers, and you wipe his body," Nami gave Zoro a strict and uncompromising look, making it clear that if he decided to refuse, he’d end up next to Sanji, but with bodily injuries instead.

Zoro stared at the bottle of alcohol in his hand.

He would have to undress the cook to wipe him down. It was so funny — the very thing this idiot probably dreamed of was about to happen, but without… without his participation.

Nami, with the help of Vivi and Usopp, began pouring a cloudy liquid from a glass containing particles of several fever-reducing pills into Sanji.

Water slowly flowed into his slightly open mouth, meeting no resistance, as if Sanji were not a living person but a lifeless doll.

When the glass was empty and undissolved particles settled at the bottom, Vivi and Usopp lowered Sanji’s head onto the pillow.

Vivi smoothed the soft, slightly curling tips of the cook’s hair, adjusting his bangs. She was bewildered because until now she believed that Sanji-san was invincible and omnipotent. He reminded her of her parents when she was just a little girl — almighty, all-knowing, and immortal.

But her mother had died, and her father…

Vivi pulled away, thinking that even the strongest people break sometimes.

Usopp awkwardly gazed at the cook’s peaceful face, unsure whether to follow the departing princess or stay and help Zoro. The sniper’s heart painfully tightened, and his mind stubbornly brought up memories of his sick mother. Both then and now, Usopp was helpless. And the fact that Sanji reminded him with his aura of a kind and caring, always ready to support and help older brother (or father — a thought Usopp was too shy to voice, even in his own mind) only made things worse.

Usopp nervously swallowed and shook his head, driving away thoughts that Sanji might die. He was the strongest of everyone he knew. And not just physically strong, but in character, actions, and principles. Sanji wouldn’t just die like that.

Usopp cast one last cautious glance at the cook and left after Vivi.

Nami sighed, clenching her slightly trembling fingers. It was unbearable — to see such a person weak and defenseless. Sanji had always been the one who protected them. If not from enemies, then from themselves and their fears. He became their support, which they all needed — not a day went by when he didn’t stay with them upon silent request or a meek glance, as if he had known them for years. He knew their weaknesses, strengths — saw through them and accepted them.

"I’ll go check on Luffy," she said hoarsely. "I think he’s more worried about Sanji than we are. The main thing is that he doesn’t do anything reckless, or else in his emotional state…" Nami shook her head, cutting off her thought.

They all clearly saw and noticed how attached Luffy was to their cook.

It wasn’t just friendly attachment; Luffy saw something greater in Sanji. Maybe even a parental figure.

This wouldn’t be surprising, given how Sanji treated their captain, always reminding one of a father to a son, despite their small age difference.

The cook behaved not like a teenager from yesterday but like an adult, experienced, and conscious man.

This was endearing. And not just to Luffy — all of them were charmed by Sanji.

And now he lay unconscious on the couch, a silent reproach to their helplessness.

Nami shivered and left the cabin, leaving Zoro and Sanji alone.

Zoro sat on the couch, silently looking at the cook for a while.

He couldn’t understand why it was so hard for him, why everything inside pulled, and a lump formed in his throat.

They weren’t close, as he had said earlier.

Yes, the cook flirted with him every day, stayed nearby, and watched-watched-watched, but… He never pried into Zoro’s soul. Never tried to start a personal conversation.

He was nearby but never "close."

Sanji was close to Luffy, and even Usopp or Nami to some extent were close to him. They spent time with him in the galley, constantly talking about something… Zoro couldn’t remember when the cook chatted with him casually about nothing, if you don’t count the endless streams of flirtation. Maybe it was partly Zoro’s fault. He diligently pushed Curly Eyebrow away from the very day they met, unlike others.

He was suspicious, and Zoro didn’t deny his words.

He didn’t trust the cook, considering him a slippery type who started his journey with the Mugiwara crew with lies. But who among the others hadn’t done the same? Maybe only himself, hence Zoro’s bias.

It was so complicated — all these ambiguous feelings and thoughts overwhelming his mind. Before, everything was simple, but now Zoro was sinking deeper into the whirlpool of interpersonal relationships.

The swordsman sighed. He really had to get to work.

He leaned over the cook, forcing himself not to think about anything, and began unbuttoning the buttons of his jacket, the fabric of which was dense and rough to the touch.

Opening the jacket, Zoro moved on to the shirt, starting with the top buttons. With each move downward, more of the light skin became visible. There were dark hairs on the cook’s chest, and a strip of equally dark thick hair grew on his abdomen, right at the edge of his pants.

Zoro stopped and averted his gaze.

It wasn’t that he found it unpleasant to do this. It was just that this was the cook. His nakama.

The person who was in love with him.

What would he be thinking right now if he could see what the swordsman was doing? Would he be happy? Or, on the contrary, would he want to push him away, thinking that until Zoro confesses his love, there should be no “undressing”?

Zoro was sure that when the cook woke up, this would be a reason for jokes for many days, if not weeks to come.

Zoro lifted him slightly, lightly wrapping his arms around his narrow waist.

A memory flashed in his mind from Whiskey Peak, when they pretended to be lovers.

How Zoro’s fingers squeezed the cook’s waist, not letting him pull away. It seemed that if Zoro wrapped his waist with both hands, the tips of his fingers would touch.

Zoro removed the jacket, followed by the shirt, carelessly throwing them over the back of the couch.

Deciding to finish with the upper part of the body first, Zoro leaned over for the bottle of alcohol. Taking a towel, he poured some of the alcohol from the bottle onto it.

The cabin immediately smelled strongly, but Zoro didn’t flinch. After all, he wasn’t the one to complain about the smell of alcohol.

He held the towel more comfortably and began lightly but firmly touching the hot, almost glowing skin, which only by some miracle remained pale.

Arms from thin wrists to shoulders, the long neck with a prominent Adam’s apple, on which a couple of drops of blood remained.

The cook’s face had been wiped by Nami when she sent Usopp for their first aid kit and towel.

The steadily rising chest, sunken abdomen with a firm six-pack.

Objectively, the cook was well-built.

But Zoro didn’t have much experience in evaluating people. Unlike Curly Eyebrow, he didn’t consider himself even remotely aesthetic.

He repeated this once more.

The light skin gleamed with drops of alcohol and emitted a strong alcoholic smell.

Zoro stopped and pulled back. Alright, now he needed to deal with the legs?

Zoro quickly glanced at the right leg, hidden by the fabric of the pants. There was no way out now. It was just medical assistance, that’s all.

He unbuckled the belt, slowly pulling it out of the loops. After the belt came the button. The characteristic sound of the zipper echoed through the quiet, uneven breathing, fading after a few seconds. And silence returned.

Zoro stared at the cook’s black boxers. For some reason, he thought that Curly Eyebrow wore… something more extravagant.

Shaking his head, Zoro carefully pulled off the pants, careful not to damage the feet.

Wiping the legs wasn’t any easier, at least because Zoro had never been this close to male naked legs.

The cook’s thighs weren’t soft, unlike those of women Roronoa had slept with, it suddenly flashed through his mind.

They were firm, muscles noticeable under finger pressure. Of course, the fingers were holding the towel; Zoro wasn’t just groping the cook.

When he finished, Zoro paused for several long moments.

Alright, he had managed it, and what next? Should he dress Curly Eyebrow again? Or let him lie there, cooling down?

Zoro eventually put the pants back on the cook, buttoned the fly, but didn’t bother with the belt or the jacket, as those were just extra movements.

So, after putting the shirt back on and buttoning only a few buttons to cover the abdomen and chest, Zoro put away the bottle of alcohol and found the ointment the cook used to treat the wounds on his feet.

It was unknown how long he would sleep, but the wounds needed care.

The ointment was cold compared to the skin of the feet, a single glance at which could cause nausea.

Zoro applied it to his fingers and, grabbing the cook’s first foot, began applying it lightly to all the injuries.

That is, the entire sole, basically. He tried to do it carefully, but kept touching the burns and scars with the tips of his fingers.

After some time, both soles glistened with a white layer of applied ointment, smelling of some bitter herbs.

The task was done, but Zoro couldn’t bring himself to leave.

The thought of leaving the cook alone stirred anxiety that he might wake up at any moment, and no one would be there.

Whether during or after the manipulations with his body — Curly Eyebrow continued to sleep peacefully, showing no signs that he was in pain or on the brink of life and death.

At some point, he heard noise from above, and Nami descended to them.

The girl sternly looked at Zoro, who met her with a frown, then she glanced at Sanji.

The sparkle in her eyes dimmed, and her expression became more somber.

"No signs of waking or other changes?" she asked, pulling out the thermometer again.

Two hours had passed since she left. The pills should have already worked (ideally).

"Nothing," Zoro sighed, ruffling his hair. "He’s like the princess from a fairy tale," he added out of context, suddenly recalling a childhood story about a sleeping princess awakened by a prince’s kiss.

Nami froze with the thermometer in her hand. She slowly turned her head, thoughtfully looking at the swordsman.

"Don’t even think of suggesting I kiss him," Zoro threatened. "I can tolerate mockery, but that — not a chance."

"Tch," Nami rolled her eyes, placing the thermometer under Sanji’s armpit, "but he wouldn’t mind."

"But I do," Zoro emphasized the last word, standing up. "Stay with him, and if you’re so eager to help him, you can kiss him yourself."

"But you’re his prince!" Nami called out at the last moment, then sighed: "Well, you fool, it might’ve actually worked."

She waited for the required time and took out the thermometer, which showed exactly 46 degrees Celsius. Still deadly, but lower than before, so this could be considered a small success.

Nami put the thermometer away and sat on the floor, hugging her knees. She was silent, but after a while softly said:

"You can’t die and leave us all, Sanji. If Luffy gathered us all together, then you help us coexist. Without you, it will be difficult for us."

"He won’t die," Luffy jumped into the cabin, who had silently sat in his favorite spot all this time, watching the night sea. "I won’t let him do that."

Nami gave him an ironic look. She didn’t doubt that Luffy would drag Sanji out even from the Underworld.

Luffy sat next to her, looking at Sanji’s serene face.

He reached out and absentmindedly touched the swirl on his eyebrow, tracing a line to the outer tip.

He always wanted to do that — Sanji’s eyebrows had a funny shape that attracted attention.

"He reminds me of my brother and another person very dear to me," Luffy took off his hat, lightly smiling at it. "Being around them always made me feel safe, especially as a child. And with Sanji too."

"I understand," Nami nodded, following the hat with her eyes as it returned to its rightful place. "Maybe not completely, since I never had an older brother, but… I understand. For each of us, he became more than just a nakama."

She stood up and, touching the captain’s shoulder, went to sleep. Only a few hours remained until dawn.

Luffy dozed off, lulled by Sanji’s steady breathing, which, though it didn’t indicate good condition, meant that he was alive.

Usopp, who came down to them, made an affectionate face and pulled Luffy’s crumpled blanket from the hammock, draping it over the captain.

Zoro stayed for the night watch while everyone else dispersed to sleep, tidying up the galley.

The Going Merry slowly sailed toward Alabasta, unaware that it would have one more stop.

Chapter Text

Nami sits on the couch, silently watching Vivi, whose trembling hands clutch a newspaper containing information that three hundred thousand Alabasta soldiers have joined the rebels.

Nami sighs heavily and rubs her neck, wearily saying:

"This newspaper is already a few days old. At first, I wanted to show it to you after we set sail from Little Garden, but... the situation with Sanji threw us all off balance," she says, watching as the princess weakly sinks down beside her, thin fingers gripping the paper.

Nami reaches out and touches her shoulder.

"At first, there were six hundred thousand soldiers and four hundred thousand rebels, but now everything has suddenly changed!" Vivi exclaims in despair, her unseeing eyes staring ahead. "At this rate, a real civil war will begin... If this continues, my home might disappear!"

The girl hunches over as if burdened by the weight of responsibility for the kingdom's fate.

Nami remains silent, sharing her sorrow.

She understands Vivi — understands her pain caused by the suffering of loved ones.

Cocoyashi and dozens of other villages on the Conomi Islands had long been under the tyranny of the Fish-Men.

Every time Nami left Cocoyashi, she feared returning to find her village replaced by a silent graveyard haunted by the ghosts of her family.

Of course, the Conomi Islands were in no way similar to Alabasta. And Arlong was far from Crocodile — different social status and scale of power.

But innocent civilians, helpless against the strength and might of criminals, existed both on the Conomi Islands and now in Alabasta.

But while the islanders have already been freed from years of tyranny, the situation in Alabasta only escalates.

"Let’s talk to the others tomorrow about the need to reach Alabasta as soon as possible," Nami nods resolutely, squeezing Vivi's shoulder. "You surely have qualified specialists who can help Sanji. I don’t think he’ll die by the time we reach the shores of the kingdom," Nami's voice falters slightly on the word “die,” and her smile comes out crooked.

She has no doubts about Sanji.

He was one of the strongest people she knew. Perhaps not physically, since she had never seen him fight seriously, but certainly in character.

She doubted herself.

None of them possessed deep medical knowledge, so each Mugiwara believed she could handle it.

And while what she knew now sufficed, at any moment something beyond her experience and knowledge could occur.

And then what? Would they just have to believe that Sanji’s stubbornness would overcome his unknown illness?

"Yes, you’re right," Vivi straightens up and looks at Nami. "We need to head to Alabasta at maximum speed. But before that..." Vivi smiles, "we need to find a doctor for Sanji-san."

Nami blinks in confusion and frowns.

"Are you sure? Your country..."

"Sanji-san is an important member of the crew, someone all of you are deeply worried about," Vivi’s voice is firm and confident, showing she has already made her decision. "The sooner we heal him, the sooner we can focus on reaching Alabasta as quickly as possible. Right now, all we’re thinking about is Sanji-san and his life."

Nami silently gazes into the princess’s black eyes, seeing her own reflection.

They sit very close — their thighs still touching, and their breathing has long since mingled.

The scent of tanned skin, blending spicy notes of incense dissolved in something floral, the unobtrusive sweetness of caramel on the skin, the sensual sharpness of cinnamon, and warm sandalwood settle in her senses, involuntarily awakening a desire to take another breath.

Over the several days of their journey together, both before and after Whiskey Peak, Nami had formed a certain opinion about Vivi.

After all, they slept in the same cabin and shared a common space — it couldn’t have been otherwise.

Vivi was a person of strong will. After so much suffering, it was clear she had developed some sort of character.

But at the same time, she remained somewhat naive in certain aspects, likely because she encountered harshness, pain, and constant struggle only as an adult. She remained a princess, raised in love and safety.

And while their current situations were similar, the periods of their childhoods that shaped them as individuals... Well.

Nami reaches out and pinches Vivi’s nose.

"Oi! Nami-san, why?" Vivi frowns and touches the tip of her nose, looking at the navigator quizzically.

"Because I felt like it," Nami smirks and sticks out her tongue. Then, when Vivi pouts indignantly, Nami laughs and ruffles the princess’s soft hair, smiling gently. "Thank you for making such a decision."

"Oh, it’s nothing," Vivi smiles. There’s no trace of hurt on her face anymore. "Sanji-san is dear to each of you. And he’s not a stranger to me either."

They smile at each other and begin preparing for bed.

Vivi puts away the crumpled newspaper to show it to the Mugiwara in the morning and discuss it, along with her choice.

Nami goes to the bathroom, and Vivi prepares her sleeping spot, waiting for the navigator to return.

When, after some time, the light in the cabin finally goes out and the noise from someone settling into the hammock quiets down, a refreshed Nami closes her eyes. Dozens of thoughts flutter away like frightened butterflies in her weary mind.

She doesn’t even try to catch even one of them.

After all, they’ll surely return tomorrow, as all of them were tied to Alabasta, their role in its fate, Sanji’s condition, and potential complications.

As Nami hovers on the edge between wakefulness and sleep, she hears Vivi’s voice:

"Nami-san, do you think the swordsman-san feels anything for Sanji-san?"

"What brought this question on?" Nami asks, opening her eyes to glance across the cabin at the princess’s hammock.

"I still sometimes remember that evening on Whiskey Peak," Vivi admits shyly. "They looked so harmonious and natural that learning it was all an act, I couldn’t believe it. Swordsman-san doesn’t seem like someone who would tolerate something that makes him uncomfortable."

Nami thoughtfully hums.

In the latter, Vivi was right — Zoro had absolutely no patience in situations where something didn’t suit him. This was confirmed by his consistently sharp and negative reactions to Sanji’s flirtation, brushing off his words like annoying mosquitoes. But at the same time...

"They did it to deceive you," she says.

"But couldn’t they have come up with something less... ambiguous?" Vivi murmurs uncertainly, rustling the blanket. "Besides, when they went upstairs-" her voice becomes thinner and slightly more agitated, "they didn’t have to do... what they did," she adds shyly, unable to say what was on her mind. "So I thought that maybe swordsman-san feels something for Sanji-san?"

"Probably just irritation and suspicion," Nami sighs.

Sleep, of course, had already eluded her. Besides, this was the first time she’d spoken to anyone about what was happening between Sanji and Zoro (the exchanged glances with Usopp weren’t enough anymore).

"Ah! So you noticed too?" The hammock creaks, and Nami notices Vivi sitting up.

"That they seemed to have had a falling out?" Nami snorts. "It was obvious. Sanji became less persistent and avoided Zoro, and he kept looking at him as if he suspected something, until they went hunting on Little Garden."

"What could have happened between them?" Vivi mutters anxiously.

"I don’t know. On one hand, I can understand Zoro — he’s the first mate. And as much of an idiot as he is, he does fulfill the duties of a senior assistant when necessary. So, in Sanji’s case, he probably deemed it necessary. But on the other hand — he might be biased against Sanji simply because he constantly hovers around him and flirts with him," Nami looks at the dark low ceiling of the cabin, thoughtfully smoothing the blanket. "I don’t think Zoro feels anything romantic towards Sanji. After all, they’ve known each other for less than a month. That’s quite a short time for someone like Zoro to develop such feelings. But he definitely doesn’t hate or despise him..."

"Less than a month?" Vivi exclaims in surprise. "But Sanji-san’s behavior makes it seem like he’s been in love with swordsman-san for a very long time."

"Hmm, you’re right about that," Nami touches her chin and frowns.

She hadn’t thought about it earlier, but Sanji really had acted from the beginning as if he’d known them for a long time — knowing their habits, favorite dishes, most interesting conversation topics, even their hobbies — and he knew so much about them that a person who joined them less than a month ago shouldn’t.

Nami sits up on the couch.

A light shiver runs down her spine.

Why does Sanji-kun know so much about them? Why was he already in love with Zoro when they first met?

As Nami prepares to voice the doubts forming in her mind, she unexpectedly feels a strange fatigue that washes away all alertness and clarity of thought.

Her limbs and eyelids rapidly grow heavy, and her thoughts scatter, disappearing without a trace into the shadows of consciousness.

She weakly falls back onto the couch, closing her eyes and sinking into sleep without resistance, the sleep she had missed a few minutes ago.

Vivi, hearing the rustle of the blanket and noticing in the darkness of the cabin that Nami-san had first sat up on the couch and then lay back down, hesitantly calls out to her.

But the navigator doesn’t respond — Vivi sighs and lies down too, thinking that Nami-san must be very tired and it’s no surprise she fell asleep so suddenly.

Before falling asleep, she also thinks that Sanji-san probably learned about swordsman-san from newspapers, as did Baroque Works. It was, the princess thought, very romantic.

The night passed peacefully.

The next morning, Nami and Vivi didn’t speak about their nighttime conversation.

The princess didn’t bring it up, thinking the discussion was closed, and Nami simply didn’t remember it.

The first task was to check on Sanji.

So, when they woke up and gathered, they went to the men’s cabin.

Usopp, who was about to join Luffy, replacing Zoro who had returned from his night watch and was already sleeping in his hammock, turned around, holding a thermometer. His expression was anxious and vulnerable, and he didn’t look like he had slept at all.

"How much?" Nami asks briefly, approaching the couch and sitting on the floor.

"Fifty," Usopp exhales in a low, hoarse voice, handing the hot thermometer to Nami.

Nami takes the thermometer, frowning and setting it aside in the open medical kit.

Lower than the first measurement, but still quite high and not particularly compatible with life.

However, this could be considered a positive change since the temperature had risen only six degrees since the last measurement.

The painkillers and wiping had helped. A little, but they helped. So they would stick to this tactic, as it had shown decent results.

While Nami mixes pills in a glass of water, Vivi approaches Usopp and looks at him worriedly.

"Are you okay?" she asks softly. "Did you sleep poorly?"

"I didn’t sleep," Usopp sighs heavily and unexpectedly sharply, shrugging his shoulders uncomfortably. "I couldn’t fall asleep. Whenever I closed my eyes, I remembered my… um, never mind," he cuts off mid-sentence, not allowing himself to share his troubling thoughts with the girls. "I’ll go to the galley, I need to figure out something for breakfast. Sanji always has plenty of preparations, so there shouldn’t be any problems."

He gives Vivi a weak, crooked smile and leaves.

After climbing onto the deck and entering the galley, Usopp freezes for a moment, staring at the empty table they had cleaned with Vivi the previous day.

By this time, Sanji usually had breakfast almost ready, successfully fending off Luffy’s persistent attempts to devour everything and run off with a full belly.

But now the galley was empty.

There were no food smells, no sizzling oil sounds, no warmth from the stove settling on the walls.

There was no Sanji.

Usopp exhales sharply, forcing himself to start moving and doing something.

He diligently pushes away associative thoughts while taking out the prepared ingredients abundantly lying on the shelves, carefully labeled with Sanji’s neat, branching handwriting.

He takes out containers of boiled vegetables, deciding to cook rice with them, as it was the most frequently consumed dish due to its simplicity and the affordability of ingredients since...

Usopp freezes, gasping and squeezing his eyes shut until spots appear before his eyes:

"Stop comparing them! Stop, stop, stop," he hits himself on the forehead with his palm several times, each time doing it harder.

But his mind teasingly throws up a childhood memory when his mother had just died, and he had to seriously start learning to cook to survive.

He ate burnt, sticky, and undercooked rice for days, weeks, swallowing bitter tears that fell into his glass of water.

He didn’t want to think about why he associated his mother with Sanji.

He didn’t want to think about feeling the same overwhelming despair as when she slowly faded away in his arms. He didn’t want to think about what would happen to them if he died.

He wouldn’t be this upset if, for example, Nami suddenly got sick. Yes, he cared about her. But she was just his nakama, whereas Sanji...

"Usopp?" Nami suddenly called.

Usopp flinched and turned his head, looking at the navigator who stood frozen at the galley entrance, eyeing him suspiciously.

"Are you alright? Vivi said you didn’t sleep. Maybe you should go rest? I’ll prepare breakfast," she said cautiously.

"No, I’m fine," Usopp shakes his head abruptly and begins busily rinsing the rice.

Nami observed him for a little longer but eventually left the galley.

She didn’t like what was currently happening with the weather.

She stopped on the lower deck, looking at the calm waves, the clear sky with rare fluffy clouds lazily drifting by.

Everything was fine. But she had a premonition that something serious was about to happen.

Something like... a storm.

The girl flinched when Luffy suddenly landed in front of her, holding his hat. He was unusually quiet and subdued.

"How’s Sanji?" he asked impatiently.

"The temperature is lower compared to last night. When Zoro wakes up, we’ll tell him to wipe him down again," Nami frowned, turning her head.

No, she realized suddenly with a slight tremor, sensing changes in the air.

It won’t be a storm.

"Quick, call Vivi and Zoro!" she suddenly shouted, heading to the galley. "We’re changing course to the south! We need to lower the sails to catch the wind!" She pushed Luffy, and then burst into the galley, startling Usopp, whom she also pushed outside with an order to handle the sails, while she grabbed the helm instead of the wheel, located on the galley, which essentially served as the steering room, to direct Going Merry in the right direction.

The commotion over changing course ended a few minutes later with a general meeting on the lower deck after they had sailed some distance from their original destination.

"What the hell?" Zoro grumbled irritably, having been yanked out of the hammock by Luffy. He looked a bit disheveled — both his face and clothes. "What’s with the sudden panic and course change?"

"You don’t understand!" Nami exclaimed irritably. "I felt a strong wind approaching, and-"

"Wait! What’s that?!" Luffy interrupted the girl, pointing at the enormous cyclone heading toward where they had originally been sailing.

A powerful cold wind hit them with the smell of an approaching storm.

Everyone grabbed onto whatever was closest to avoid being swept into the water by this sudden and unexpected gust, which soon passed them by, leaving behind only tousled hair and loudly beating hearts from the panic that gripped the Mugiwara crew.

Everyone was silent for a while, processing what had happened.

Each thought about how if Nami hadn’t sensed the approaching wind, they would have been in the path of the cyclone.

Usopp nervously muttered:

"I’m even scared to imagine what would have happened to us if Sanji hadn’t been the one injured but you instead," he said in a low voice, addressing the navigator.

Nami gave him a silent but expressive look, causing Usopp to shrink back and hurriedly return to the galley.

Everyone dispersed in different directions.

Zoro returned to the men’s cabin, not to resume the sleep from which he had been so rudely pulled, but to wipe down the cook again and apply ointment to his legs.

The redhead witch had ordered him to do the first, and he intended to do the second on his own initiative.

Touching the scorching skin, which only miraculously didn’t burn through clothing, Zoro frowned as he looked at the cook’s face, still appearing as if he were simply sleeping.

His long eyelashes fluttered, and his pupils moved beneath the thin eyelids.

Grimly, Zoro wiped down his motionless body.

Suddenly, a thought flashed through his mind: what if the joke he had made the previous evening about the cook being like a princess in a fairy tale wasn’t a joke at all? What if it worked?

Besides, no one would know what he had done. Especially not the cook.

After dressing him, Zoro uncertainly bites his lower lip, putting the alcohol back in the medical kit. It was just helping his nakama, not... whatever else it might seem.

Clenching his fists, he leaned over the cook, looking closely at his face. Not the ugliest, but Zoro couldn’t say it was attractive either. Just ordinary.

He leaned closer and-

"Zoro?" Sanji whispered weakly, opening his eyes slightly.

Chapter Text

Tears gather in the corners of his eyes.

Burst capillaries stain the white of his sclera with an anxious red, against which the thin ring of his light iris stands out sharply.

Sanji’s pupils are wide, his gaze hazy and unfocused, as if he were hovering between sleep and reality.

Sanji reaches out and touches Zoro’s cheek with a burning palm — so gently, so carefully, as though afraid of causing pain.

His eyes slowly trace over the swordsman’s furrowed, confused, bewildered face, caressing every youthful feature with quiet longing.

“I missed you so much, my dear,” Sanji whispers, his voice cracking on the endearment, filled with an odd, misplaced devotion — one that feels painfully out of place given how recently they’d met. A painful devotion, born from the anguish of loss.

A single tear rolls down his temple and disappears into his pale hair.

Sanji’s hand weakens and falls onto the couch. His eyes slowly roll back and soon close.

His breathing returns to normal — quieter, slower. He slips once more into sleep.

Zoro jerks backward, nearly falling off the sofa.

He wants to shout at the cook, shake him awake, demand an explanation.

Instead, Zoro abruptly stands, feeling the lingering heat of another’s touch on his skin.

It made him uncomfortable.

But this discomfort wasn’t born from disgust at the cook touching him. After all, Curly Eyebrow constantly ruffled his hair, often brushed his shoulder or back — to nudge him or simply remind him of his presence.

No, it was the words. That damn tone of voice. Why was the cook speaking to him like he was some long-dead lover suddenly returned?

That was what unsettled him.

Yet Zoro couldn’t understand why. He couldn’t pinpoint the reason for this unease. It touched upon complex emotions, many of which he couldn’t even name, let alone comprehend.

Still, leaving now would be cowardly.

He had a duty to finish what he started. Since most of the responsibility for taking care of Curly Eyebrow had fallen on him, he might as well see it through.

So Zoro returned, sat on the floor, and took ointment for the cook’s feet from the first-aid kit.

The pale skin looked slightly better, though still in terrible condition. As he rubbed in the strong-smelling, greasy cream, Zoro found himself thinking absently about how the cook would probably be left with scars — anything to distract himself from his own confusing feelings.

Ironically, all his thoughts circled back to Sanji.

After finishing and wiping his hands, Zoro went up on deck and entered the galley, where he found Usopp and Vivi arranging dishes, with Karoo beside her.

Noticing him, the princess smiled.

“Is everything alright?”

Zoro blinked silently.

Should he mention the cook waking up? True, it had lasted less than five minutes before he slipped back into unconsciousness but the moment itself… somehow felt… personal?

Suddenly, Zoro realized he didn’t want to share this with the others.

Didn’t want to expose the cook’s vulnerability.

So he merely shrugged.

“Same as yesterday. We’ll need to check his temperature after breakfast,” he said, turning to Nami, who had just entered, followed closely by Luffy.

“We’ll do it,” Nami nodded, sitting down next to Vivi and Usopp, setting aside a portion for Karoo.

Zoro glanced around the galley, his eyes landing on the spot where the cook usually stood during meals. But now Karoo was eating there.

And as they silently tapped their chopsticks against their bowls of plain rice with vegetables, something about it felt deeply wrong.

It hadn’t been long, but the galley had already absorbed Curly Eyebrow’s “spirit.”

Everything was arranged exactly as he liked it. The air always carried the scent of his cigarettes. There was always plenty of food — diverse, tailored for each of them.

But he wasn’t here.

And without him, everyone felt uneasy.

Even Luffy — who normally turned every meal into chaos, joking, fighting, scrambling for food — was eating quietly beside Zoro.

Luffy. Eating in silence.

Zoro glanced sideways, noticing the captain had already finished eating, though it had only been ten minutes since breakfast began, and was now idly picking up stray grains of rice with his chopsticks.

Zoro sighed, suddenly struck by how much Luffy resembled a child worrying over a sick loved one, and pushed his nearly full plate toward him.

“Zoro?” Luffy looked up, surprised.

Ever since Curly Eyebrow joined the crew, no one shared their food, everyone wanted to savor every last bite of the miraculous meals prepared for them.

The cook’s food tasted divine, making each of them just a little greedy about what was on their own plates.

Besides, the cook always made extra dishes for the captain, satisfying his endless appetite until the next meal.

“Eat,” Zoro said, smiling faintly, then stood and left the galley.

Staying there without that subtle, watchful presence was unbearable.

Zoro threw himself into training, trying to lose himself in it. He lifted weights, pushed his body to its limits, driven by the thought that he needed to become stronger, to protect his nakama.

He didn’t deserve to become the greatest if he couldn’t ensure his crew’s safety.

One of the exercises unrelated to physical strength was Armament Haki training.

The cook had always been patient, answering the same questions again and again. Yet Zoro still couldn’t grasp it, couldn’t understand how it worked. It didn’t frustrate him — it infuriated him.

He simply couldn’t imagine something coating his skin by willpower alone, shielding it from attacks and enhancing his own strength.

It felt more like a Devil Fruit ability than something natural and “innate,” as Curly Eyebrow called it.

Hitting the metal plate again and again, Zoro analyzed his sensations, desperately trying to force his body to do something it had never done.

But nothing worked.

Stopping, Zoro glared angrily at his fists, the knuckles scraped and lightly bleeding. If the cook could master it, why couldn’t he? Who was this guy, anyway, to have gained such power before even turning thirty?

Though Zoro no longer viewed the cook with suspicion or hostility, he still wanted answers. Wanted to know who he really was even though he’d never cared about the pasts of the others. Their histories, skills, knowledge, they’d never interested him. But the cook? Yes.

He could’ve forced the truth from him back when he first arrived, pinned him down and demanded answers. But… would he really have done it? Zoro couldn’t say for sure. If the cook had posed a threat to the crew’s lives without a doubt, yes. But otherwise? He didn’t know.

No matter how hard he tried to run from thoughts of Curly Eyebrow, they always led back to him.

Zoro didn’t show up for lunch, training straight through until evening.

When he finally entered the galley, it was already dark outside. The last lights flickered on the horizon.

Closing the door behind him, Zoro shivered, his breath forming mist. Goosebumps ran across his skin. It was getting significantly colder outside — winter was creeping in, unnoticed yet inevitable.

Nami, washing dishes, turned her head and nodded toward a single plate on the table, covered with a flat saucer.

“They left you a portion. Everyone else already ate.”

Zoro sat down and lifted the saucer. More rice — this time with curry. He picked up his chopsticks, tapping them lightly on the table to align them, and began to eat.

The taste was familiar, he’d eaten Nami’s cooking before, so he recognized it immediately.

Nami kept washing dishes, the clinking of plates filling the air.

The scent of curry and dish soap hung in the room, rising from the foam in the sink. Zoro ate in silence, the rhythmic tapping of his chopsticks against the bowl the only sound.

“Sanji’s temperature dropped to 48 degrees,” Nami suddenly said. Her voice was calm, steady. “A stable decline and holding at that level is a good sign…”

“But?” Zoro raised an eyebrow, looking at the navigator’s back. He clearly heard the unspoken “but” in her words.

“But it’s already the second day his temperature has been incompatible with life,” Nami exhaled heavily, stopping and leaning on the sink. “Blood coagulates at 42 degrees. After that, death follows. He’s still alive. But… will he ever wake up at all?”

Zoro looked away.

He still didn’t think it right to mention the cook had briefly woken, so he simply said:

“He will wake up,” he stated firmly, standing. “The cook can’t abandon the crew.”

“You mean… he can’t abandon you?” Nami shot a sharp, mocking glance at the swordsman, who froze mid-step, plate in hand. “After all, he doesn’t love the rest of us nearly as much as- Ouch, idiot!” she snapped, furious, as Zoro flung the plate into the sink water, sending a fountain of soapy spray into the air and then tactfully retreated.

The night passed quietly. Usopp was on watch, so Zoro slept peacefully until morning, waking after the sniper returned from duty.

Usopp came down into the men’s cabin, bringing with him the icy air that seeped beneath warm blankets.

Sitting up in his hammock, Zoro sleepily watched Usopp shaking snow from the blanket he’d used overnight. Zoro shivered, rolling his shoulders.

“Did a lot of snow fall?” he asked, jumping to the floor and stretching. Glancing at the couch, he frowned as usual. The cook still lay there, covered with a blanket.

“Yeah, I tried clearing the lower deck, but it just keeps piling up. Brr,” Usopp chattered, quickly diving into his hammock and burying himself under the blanket, only his nose sticking out. “Nami said it’ll only get colder as we approach the island, so we’ll need to get winter clothes from the storage.”

“I’ll get them. Sleep,” Zoro nodded. Usopp sniffled and promptly fell asleep.

Zoro approached the sleeping cook.

Everything seemed normal: no strange skin marks, just a soft flush. Deciding not to check his temperature himself, Zoro stepped back and headed up on deck.

As soon as he emerged, Nami, standing on the upper deck, checking their course, shouted at him to fetch the clothes and then clear the snow. Grumbling, Zoro got to work.

By breakfast, he was done. The winter gear was ready in case the cold worsened, and the deck was cleared as best as possible though snow continued to fall steadily from the gray sky in thick flakes.

Breakfast, like last night’s dinner, was prepared by Nami. This time, instead of curry, there was just fried fish.

Zoro didn’t mind — he had no right to complain. But still, after the meals cooked by Curly Eyebrow… anything else tasted bland, soulless. That’s why they didn’t linger on the galley long.

By midday, Zoro, perched atop the crow’s nest, noticed something very strange.

Peering through binoculars, he muttered in disbelief:

“Can a person stand on water?”

“What are you talking about, Zoro?” Nami grumbled, shivering. She hated winter islands and winter in general. Her cheeks burned unattractively from the cold wind, her skin felt dry and flaky, and her hair grew heavy and unruly.

“But how else do you explain that?” he pointed in the direction the others should look.

Usopp and Luffy, busy building snow figures, turned their heads in unison. Nami squinted, cupping a hand over her eyes — and froze in shock.

A man. On water. A man was standing on water!

“It’s pretty chilly today, isn’t it?” the man suddenly said, addressing the Straw Hats.

He looked odd, strangely reminiscent of someone from Buggy’s crew. Frowning, Zoro decided to climb down from the mast — just in case an attack came.

“Well, yeah, it’s quite cold,” Luffy exhaled, still wearing his usual outfit, glancing at Usopp.

“Definitely pretty cold,” Usopp agreed, turning to the captain.

“Hey, don’t you guys see anythi-!” Nami screamed in terror, cut short as a massive ship with a metallic dome suddenly appeared right before them.

She fell sideways, sliding across the snow but felt a hand grab hers.

Looking up, she let out a nervous breath, meeting Zoro’s stern, alert gaze. Both knew the arrival of such a huge vessel could only mean trouble.

They straightened up and stared at the ship as its dome slowly lowered. Hundreds of people stood on its deck, their voices carried faintly by the freezing wind.

“Ma-ha-ha-ha!” A sharp, unpleasant laugh rang out — a grown man’s voice. “Surprised? Has my underwater ambush ship, the ‘Tin King,’ left you speechless?”

Hardly had the loud, mocking voice faded when dozens of armed pirates in matching uniforms jumped onto their deck.

Zoro drew his swords but held back, waiting for the captain’s order. Nami beside him trembled nervously, staring fearfully at the intruders.

Then a man descended to their lower deck. Well… he was enormous. Not tall, wide. And he looked ridiculous. But from the way he carried himself, the way he looked at them, it was obvious he wasn’t just some fool who’d gathered a random crew.

He was dangerous.

His words sounded strange, but Zoro wasn’t listening, focused only on his movements. Then… did he just eat a knife?

“We wanted to go to Drum Kingdom. Do you happen to have an Eternal Pose — or at least a Log Pose?” he said, chewing the knife to pieces.

“No!” Nami cried, hiding behind Zoro. “We’ve never even heard of such a place!”

“If that’s all you wanted, you can leave,” Luffy said irritably, watching the uninvited guests from above.

“Oh, come now… No need to rush. If you don’t have it, I’ll take your ship and your treasures instead,” the pirate smirked smugly.

“What?!” Nami shouted, peering out from behind Zoro’s shoulder. “Never!”

“Wait a moment- I’m getting hungry,” he ignored her, and… bit off a chunk of their ship, continuing to chew it as casually as if nothing were happening.

Luffy lunged forward. When a rifle barrel was shoved into his chest, he exploded in fury, striking the pirate.

That was Zoro’s signal.

He charged forward, cutting through the fruit-user’s minions. They were weak, clumsy. Zoro moved faster, skillfully dodging bullets. Gunfire and shouts deafened the area.

Zoro fought swiftly, giving opponents no chance to retaliate.

With two swords, he delivered fatal wounds. This dance of death was natural to him — almost meditative. He found harmony in battle, in how his body pushed beyond its limits, reaching new heights.

Dodging a bullet that whistled past his shoulder, Zoro froze and spun around.

Had he felt the bullet coming?

Shaking his head — no time for that now — he slashed sharply, slicing an enemy’s throat. The pirate’s eyes widened in terror as he dropped his weapon and clutched his neck.

Zoro stepped aside and noticed Vivi emerging.

“Swordsman-san, I heard gunshots- what happened?” the princess asked anxiously.

Meanwhile, Luffy, whose hands were now inside the fruit-user’s mouth, stretched his arms wide.

“Why don’t you just get off my ship!” Luffy roared, launching the pirate flying.

The wounded Going Merry sank into silence. No one had expected this clash.