Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

Sanji stood on Sunny's deck, motionless, as if he were just another part of the ship. His eyes scanned the horizon without truly seeing it, the world around him a blur of meaningless details.

The biting chill of the wind, the rhythmic creak of the wood, the muffled murmurs of the crew - all these sensations washed over him, failing to elicit any response from within. He had no feelings left for his comrades, no remnants of warmth or connection. They were his charges to serve, nothing more. 

Even in this detached state, Sanji noticed the various stares from his crewmates - sadness, loss, and unease - each easier to read than the last. 

However, his captain was the hardest to interpret. Sanji never caught him directly, but sometimes felt a piercing stare, a look that seemed to try and pull something out of him that was no longer there.

Sanji acknowledged the void where emotions like sympathy or regret should reside. He knew he ought to feel something - compassion, perhaps, or remorse - but these feelings eluded him, leaving only a sense of emptiness. 

The crew's discontent reminded him of his failure to fulfil his purpose as their obedient servant, intensifying his sense of inadequacy.
The turning point came when his captain postponed the Wano celebration.

This decision made Sanji realise his presence was detrimental rather than beneficial. Understanding that merely waiting for orders wasn’t enough, Sanji decided he needed to interpret their needs himself. 

He identified three ways he could serve the crew: using his extensive culinary expertise to cook for them, defending and fighting for them despite the low likelihood of such necessity due to the peace in Wano, and ultimately reversing the changes Judge had made to him. 

He recognised the crew's displeasure with his current state and their longing for the old Sanji. Now, he was more compliant, stripped of emotional outbursts and individualism. Despite believing these changes had improved him, he prioritised their wishes above all.

On the third day, he was updated on their progress - a failure, not surprising. 

Realising his plan offered quicker and more accurate results, Sanji put on his suit and stealthily made his way to the Sunny's deck. Activating his invisibility ability, he slipped past Zoro, who was on night watch. After ensuring the surroundings were clear, he took off into the sky.

Barely a couple of feet above the deck, Zoro's voice boomed through the crow’s nest speakers. “Cook! Come here!” His assertive voice carried a hint of stress.

Finally given a straight command, Sanji complied. He quickly reached Zoro, finding him already waiting for Sanji on the grass. “Take off your suit. We need to talk.”

Immediately his suit reverted to regular clothes, while some of his crewmates pushed their bedroom doors open. His captain was the first one to talk from the deck above. “Zoro, is everything okay?” His voice was serious.

“I got this, Captain,” Zoro called back and his captain nodded in response before all of them returned to their rooms.

Zoro redirected his attention to Sanji, who waited patiently. “Why did you fly away?”

Sanji remained impassive as he spoke, “I’m here to serve you.” Zoro's expression hardened, a sceptical glint in his gaze and his lips pressing into a thin line.

“I observed how the reverting of my changes was of high importance to you. Considering Law and Chopper have no expertise in genetics and Franky is focused on studies in weaponry, the chances they would find a solution soon were slim.”

From the start, he couldn't understand why his captain asked them for help. It was likely about trust, but trust was useless if it didn't yield results.

Sanji continued, “I believe I have a higher chance of finding a ‘cure’ in the Germa Kingdom.”

Zoro's scepticism deepened, his stance becoming more rigid. “And what if Judge catches you? Can he control you?”

Sanji responded with mechanical precision, his tone unwavering and devoid of hesitation. “The plan was to meet Judge. He caused the treatment; he likely knows how to reverse its effects. I apologise, but I don’t know if his orders can affect me.”

“So you are an idiot,” Zoro concluded bluntly. “Judge may know what can be done, but there’s no way he will tell you. He made the decision to do what he did. If he wanted to change you back, he would have done it already.”

Inside, Sanji disagreed. Judge had ensured he would become a perfect soldier, ready to follow commands without hesitation. If Sanji informed Judge that his arrival was a command, he had no doubt the king would help. 

However, voicing these calculations aloud would be disrespectful to the swordsman. At the moment, Zoro had the authority, so Sanji stood there, absorbing Zoro's words, his expression unchanging, ready to comply with whatever decision he would reach.

Zoro shifted his gaze to the side, pondering what Sanji assumed, was the appropriate punishment. He seemed to be grappling with the weight of the decision, his brow furrowing deeper.

When Zoro looked back at Sanji, his voice was firm. “You won’t leave this ship unless your life or one of the Strawhats’ lives is at stake.” Sanji nodded at the command. Zoro closed his eye, took a deep breath, and continued.

“You won’t touch the suit you got from Germa or the can that contains it.” The can immediately fell to the grass with a metallic clink. “You won’t make contact with anyone outside our crew. Trafalgar Law is the only exception.” Zoro’s single eye bore into Sanji with unwavering intensity as he issued each command. “Do you understand?”

“Yes.” Sanji bowed slightly, then straightened his back again. He stayed put, frozen and unmoving, waiting for Zoro to add more or release him. Zoro turned his back to him, the darkness of the night cloaking his figure. “You can go.”

As Sanji made his way back to the boys' room, he noted a faint loosening of tension in his shoulders. Zoro's commands were not an official task, but they gave him direction, a framework to fulfil his purpose.

Over the next few days, Sanji observed Zoro, noting that the swordsman scarcely slept.

A week later, Sanji was informed a ‘cure’ had been found and later that day, he was lying on the operation table in Law’s submarine. 

Law was the one who asked him to come. Sanji could only assume his captain wanted to make sure it wouldn’t be an order, as Law wasn’t a part of the crew he had to obey.  

Nonetheless, Sanji already took it upon himself as a mission. So, after he had gotten approval to make an exception in Zoro’s command to stay on the ship, he followed Law to his submarine. 

Now Chopper and Law stood with their backs to him, discussing the final details. Sanji overheard the rustling of papers as they prepared. 

A few minutes later, Chopper left the papers on a table and turned to Sanji. “Law and I tested your suit with Franky’s help. By examining your blood and other evidence, we made a hypothesis of an operation we believe may help. If the surgery fails, it won’t affect you or change anything, so it’s risk free.” 

Chopper was using his professional tone but Sanji noticed the sadness when he told him there was a chance it wouldn’t work. Sanji needed it to work. He already failed his crew before. He wouldn’t again. 

“Don’t worry! If it doesn’t work, we will find another solution.” Chopper offered a reassuring smile. Sanji only nodded automatically in response. 

Chopper took the sedative from Law’s offered hand, hesitating briefly as he gazed into Sanji’s visible eye. “I know you were sedated against your will not so long ago. As your doctor, I want to make sure you want this.” 

Sanji didn’t have wants, but every part of his body compelled him to follow his captain’s wishes. So he told Chopper exactly that. 

Tears welled in his eyes, but Chopper quickly blinked them away. Professional again, he applied the sedative. The last thing Sanji heard was Law activating his powers before darkness enveloped him.

Sanji slowly blinked his eyes open. He scanned his environment. He noted that he was now in Sunny's infirmary with Chopper sitting on his chair with his back to him. Sanji started at the reindeer without blinking. The more he started, the more his realisation was clear.  

It didn’t work. 

Sanji felt nothing towards his crewmate. He failed. Again. 

What if Chopper discovered it? Would he deem him not to be worthy of being their tool? Not good enough for them to use him, to be their soldier?

Chopper swivelled in his chair, eyes widening as they met Sanji’s. “Sanji!” Chopper exclaimed, then softened his tone. “How are you feeling?”

Sanji slowly pushed himself up. “Tired, but well aside from that.” 

“Do you still feel compelled to answer my questions?” 

“Yes,” Sanji replied monotonously. 

Chopper frowned, visibly hesitant and scared to ask his last question. “Do you feel any emotions?”

“No.” This one word seemed to affect the doctor deeply. 

“I’m sorry, Sanji.” Chopper wasn’t the one to blame. Sanji should’ve been better, known better than to force his assignment on others to solve. 

“I failed as your doctor,” he smiled softly at Sanji, “but I will try again.”

Later that day, Chopper refused to share their research with Sanji and all his offered services as well. Chopper explicitly ordered Sanji not to touch or look at their papers.

Sanji accepted it. He was relieved that another person on the crew now felt comfortable enough to give him orders. The main issue at hand was that he failed his captain today, and he was ready for whatever punishment his captain would decide. 

His captain maintained his distance, not speaking to Sanji, and the expected punishment never came.

It was a few days since the failed operation and they still hadn’t left Wano. Jinbei developed a routine of joining Sanji to clean the dishes. 

While Sanji wasn’t meant to burden any one of his crew with his own tasks, he constantly found himself being forced to use their aid. 

At least Jinbei was quick and precise in getting the work done. They rarely talked, which contended Sanji as it was never his purpose to fill his time with anything but assignments. 

In the midst of his work, Sanji caught in the corner of his eyes another plate he missed. He approached to take it. As he got closer he realised there was some food left on it. 

He picked it up and stared at it. Hypnotised with it, he reached for the drawer and took out a fork. Sanji was already full from the meal he had prepared for himself earlier, and he no longer found the different tastes in food. 

Still, he couldn’t help himself but eat what was left of the dish. When he was done, he blinked at the now empty plate. Not sure what just happened. 

Setting that aside, he refocused on his task of cleaning the dishes. Sanji turned his head back to the sink, only to find all the dishes gone, and Jinbei nowhere to be found. 

He checked the cabinets and everything was clean and organised in its place. Sanji was consumed by emptiness. He failed again. 

Sanji stood by the railing, staring at the sea to pass the time until dinner preparation was in order. The absence of the crew’s commands left him with nothing to do but wait between meals as he gazed into nothingness. 

Usopp was nearby, sharing another one of his stories. Chopper gasped with awe, and Sanji knew his eyes sparkled even without looking at them. 

Usopp delved into a part of his story that was so obviously a lie, even by his standards, and a few seconds later came a complete silence. 

Confused by the sudden change, Sanji turned his head to look at them. They both stared at him like they had seen a ghost. 

Unable to discern the reason for their reaction, Sanji, not knowing what he had done wrong, spoke out of terms to inquire for an explanation. “What?” His voice remained void of emotion as usual.

Usopp collected himself before Chopper, pointing a finger at Sanji, who still struggled to process whatever had shifted the atmosphere. 

“You chuckled,” Usopp breathed the words.

No. It couldn’t be. Usopp must have misheard something. There were many people around the deck that could have made a similar noise, even Chopper’s gasps sounded close enough to be considered a chuckle. 

Sanji shifted his gaze to Chopper. If he too believed the same, it meant Sanji had made another misstep. One person could easily be explained away, but two made it more unlikely. 

Chopper continued to stare at Sanji but didn’t call out Usopp for his (supposed) mistake. Even if it wasn’t the truth, if two of his crew members agreed on a subject, it was enough. 

The other option was that Sanji truly chuckled at Usopp’s story. This action might never be forgiven, especially considering his captain’s fondness for Usopp’s tales.

At least perhaps now he would be adjusted. As it was clear there was an obvious need to correct him, with the amount of mistakes that kept piling up. 

Yet, no matter how long he waited, no punishment came nor a correction. Instead, he saw both Usopp and Chopper smiling non-stop during dinner, lighting some of the dark atmosphere that surrounded each meal since his crew found out about the truth. 

It was a strange change. 

Zoro hadn’t spoken to Sanji since he had given him his first official orders. Sanji could only assume the swordsman was disappointed with him. 

Sanji couldn’t tell why, as he followed each one of them without a fault, but he would never question him. Zoro was his superior and satisfying him was Sanji’s objective. 

Since Sanji couldn’t find out what caused Zoro’s behaviour, Sanji came up with an alternative way to please the swordsman. He made onigiri as he knew it was Zoro’s favourite, ensuring that it included the best sake they had.

Sanji climbed up the crow’s nest and pushed the floor door open. Peaking inside the room, his gaze fell on Zoro’s green hair. It looked slightly puffier than usual, probably because of the weather. It reminded him of Enies Lobby. 

Zoro stopped his crunches to look at Sanji. The usual frown he got from the swordsman those days eased almost immediately. His features softened a bit and a brow was raised at Sanji as if Zoro tried to understand something about him. 

Sanji couldn’t pay him any more attention. All that filled his mind was one sentence -

He looks like a marimo. 

Sanji couldn’t say that. It was an insult to Zoro, and he wouldn’t do that to his superior, especially when he came here to make amends. 

Without a word, Sanji placed the trade next to Zoro while ignoring Zoro’s analysing stare. Sanji tried to leave quickly before the impulse to call the swordsman by an unrespected name took over. Zoro’s voice stopped him in his tracks. 

Sanji turned back to face the swordsman, standing impeccably straight and waiting for commands. “It tastes good, cook,” Zoro remarked as he ate the onigiri.

Sanji nodded and bowed. Even with his pressure not to accidentally offend the swordsman, he made sure he marched with precise steps to the door. Closing it behind him as he descended, when his cheeks suddenly warmed.  

Weird. Perhaps he had a fever. It was best to ignore it; weakness was never allowed to be shown.

Robin sat in the galley each time he was there cooking. She didn’t engage in conversation, but she was openly content with him. Smiling at him and accepting all the food he offered her. 

Sanji grabbed the flour needed for the bread when he suddenly noticed which book Robin was reading. Putting down the flour, he subconsciously walked towards her.

Robin gazed up from her book, offering her usual soft smile. She didn’t seem disappointed by his presence, but Sanji knew his action was a mistake. He was interrupting a crew mate during their time of relaxation. He should return to his lunch preparation, not waste his time distributing the archaeologist. 

As Sanji turned away, Robin called his name. He turned back around, ready to serve his purpose. 

“How may I serve you, Robin?” He bowed. 

Her smile dropped slightly but lingered. She gently closed the book and extended it to Sanji, leaving him the option to take it. 

It was troubling how the crew always found ways to avoid ordering him around. He didn’t have free will. Judge made sure of it, so why did they constantly try to give him choices?

Before he could think more on the subject, his hand reached out and took the book as if longing to hold it. 

Sanji ignored his confusion about what had just happened and instead waited for Robin to add something that might explain her gesture. The whole thing clearly took time from his cooking. Then why did she give it to him knowing this?

“You know this book,” Robin stated, clearly avoiding phrasing it as a question. Sanji felt the urge to return to cooking, but her attention on him was strong enough to convince him otherwise. 

“Yes. It was the first book Zeff got for me.” Sanji replied, accidentally adding the irrelevant fact. 

“Must have been nice, I know how much you enjoy reading books.” Robin patted the seat next to hers and Sanji sat obediently. 

“Zeff didn’t know that. He thought I couldn’t read at such a young age, so he always got me toys instead. Until one day, Carne left a cooking book on a table. Zeff caught me reading it, and the next day he took me to a bookstore, asked me to choose, and bought me this one.” 

Since the chuckling incident happened, Sanji paid more attention to his voice, making sure there wouldn’t be another slip-up. Unfortunately, he got caught up in his story and only now realised he didn’t keep his voice flat throughout. Robin, always observant, must have noticed.

Slowly turning his gaze from the book to her, he expected to see her disappointment for the first time but saw none when her smile widened. 

Sanji let her take the book back. “I will finish reading this book. Perhaps one day you can tell me what you think of it.”

They used to talk about books they read before Whole Cake. However, since she didn’t order him to continue, and he deemed books a waste of time that could be spent serving the crew’s needs, they hadn’t discussed books since.

Acknowledging that he was currently falling short of his mission prompted Sanji to refocus on it. He apologised to her before returning to his lunch preparations. 

Sanji avoided looking at her since. Robin was one of the few Strawhats who considered him worthy to be their tool. Finding out she changed her mind would take some of the fulfillment he had away. 

During the dinner preparations, she appeared again. She continued to read the same book and for an inexplicable reason, Robin-chan was still smiling at him. It created a strange feeling in his chest that persisted for hours later when he found the book on his bunk.

The galley resonated with the sounds of music as Brook played his violin near the table, while Sanji focused on calculating the food.

Since Brook saw Sanji after Bege attempted to kidnap them, he started to play music in the galley more often. Slow, sad tunes were almost a constant presence in the kitchen, and it only got more depressing when Sanji confessed about his condition. 

Although it hadn’t bothered him before, it was now starting to get on Sanji’s nerves. Mindful of using a polite tone to not unintentionally hurt the skeleton, Sanji approached the matter gently. “Brook.”

Brook stopped playing and turned around to face Sanji. “Yes, Sanji-san?” 

“Can you please play something else?”

“Of course.” Brook raised his violin and played a different melody, which somehow sounded even more somber than the ones before. Sanji could taste the misery in each note. 

He didn’t want to push Brook from doing what he liked, but the music affected his work and that wouldn’t do. 

“Brook?” Sanji called and Brook stopped playing again. 

“Yes, Sanji-san?”

“Can you please play something less tragic?” Perhaps he should have chosen better wording. There was a silent moment as Brook just stared at Sanji. 

Sanji usually didn’t mind Brook’s lack of expressions (there were a few but even then it was hard to identify). Right now, it was bothersome. It created uneasiness not knowing what Brook was feeling as he had to wait helplessly for a response.  

At this point, waiting to hear if he messed up was practically a torturing routine. 

“I do take requests.” Brook’s voice broke the silence. 

It didn’t matter to Sanji which song Brook played, as long as it wasn’t melancholic. He wouldn’t have cared if it hadn’t bothered him so much today, that it was hard to focus on the only duty he was given the opportunity to fulfill. Sanji was about to express the same sentiment to Brook, but what came out was, “Binks' Sake, please.”

Brook placed the bow on the violin and started playing as Sanji returned to his task. He noticed it wasn’t exactly Binks' Sake. It was an adaptation of it that was mixed with what used to be his favourite songs. 

Ever since that day, Brook resumed filling their ship with only beautiful and lively music.

Sanji walked around the Sunny’s deck, intending to start dinner preparation. As he headed towards the kitchen he spotted Franky struggling to carry a huge box, clearly too much for him to handle alone. 

Without missing a beat, Sanji ran to him and placed his hands underneath the box to carry half of its weight. 

“Thank you,” Franky sighed in relief, “I thought I could deal with-“ Franky peeked from the side of the box, seeing for the first time who was the person who came to help him. “Sanji?” 

“Yeah…” Sanji tried to place Franky’s confusion, but the box got too heavy to focus on anything else. “Where do you want to put it?”

Franky led their way along the deck until they set the box down on the grass. Now that it was lower than him, Sanji recognised the box. 

“It’s a refrigerator,” Sanji murmured. 

“Yes! And it’s a specially super one!!!” Franky exclaimed. Sanji could tell he was right just from its looks. The design was impressive, and the opening looked so simple, he could hold different ingredients with both his hands and still be able to close its doors without a problem. 

“The people in Wano are very talented. They could even craft nails out of sea stone! They offered to make a sea stone lock for the fridge and, although it could solve the ‘Luffy eats all our food in the middle of the night’ problem, Robin, Chopper, and Brook won’t be able to take a snack if they want to.”

Sanji considered his words. It could easily be resolved. Even if neither of them could open the refrigerator, they could ask him to make them something. Most of them didn’t even eat at night anyway, so they probably wouldn’t wake Sanji up. 

Of course, it was wrong of him to cause any problems for his crew. Especially with such a basic need, like getting food with something that could weaken them with a mere touch. 

“I asked them to make a strong non-sea stone lock.” Franky reached behind him and handed Sanji the lock to examine. Franky was right, it was incredibly strong. Yet he wouldn’t be surprised if his captain would somehow succeed in breaking it after only one day. 

A sudden itch developed in the back of Sanji’s mind. Trying to focus, he attempted to discern the cause of the sensation.

“Do you want me to show what this fridge can do?” Franky asked tentatively, drawing all of Sanji’s attention. Sanji glanced at the fridge and then at Franky, who seemed like he was trying to talk with a child without scaring them away. 

More curious than patient enough to unravel Franky’s odd behavior or the persistent itch, Sanji nodded for Franky to proceed with his explanation.

As hours passed, the itch persisted, growing more consuming with each moment. Sanji lifted his gaze from the refrigerator and noticed the sun setting.

“Oh shit,” Sanji muttered. 

“What’s wrong?” Franky inquired.

Barely registering Franky’s question, Sanji swiftly stood up and sprinted to the kitchen. The itch in his head evolved into a persistent ringing. 

His body moved on without him - grabbing ingredients, and pulling out the required tools. He watched his hand taking the knife, holding it so tight that his knuckles turned white. He was cutting as if his life depended on it, and his mind affirmed him that it did.

“Oi oi, Sanji,” Franky stood beside him, but Sanji couldn’t divert his eyes from the knife.

“Sanji, you don’t have to rush. I can tell the crew to wait a little longer for dinner.”

Though tempted by Franky’s offer, Sanji couldn’t accept it. He couldn’t afford another failure and needed to demonstrate that he was more than a mere disappointment.

He was their tool, meant to serve, meant to fight and protect. What soldier would he be if he couldn’t do something so simple as cook dinner on time?

“Don’t tell them to wait. It is my mistake and I will fix it.” Sanji insisted. His grip on the knife tightened, causing pain in his hand. Despite trying to command his hand to stop, the cutting continued, and the ringing grew louder.

“I can help you, so it’ll be ready on time,” Franky suggested, expressing a hint of worry.

“It’s my job, so I will be the one to get it done.” Sanji asserted. If he couldn’t, what use would there be in him?

Franky fell silent, and Sanji pushed the cut vegetables into the pot before returning to cutting.

“I liked all of you in Enies Lobby,” Franky abruptly began, choosing the most random topic Sanji could think of. “It started the moment I saw you on the train, nothing but determination to save your nakama, even when you kicked me in the face.”

Sanji could tell it was a joke, but he didn’t laugh. Continuing to cut whatever was on the board as it was the only thing that mattered at that moment. Even listening to Franky was less of a priority than the captain’s hunger. However, an unsettling feeling nagged at him, questioning why he was even listening at all.

As the ringing intensified, Franky continued sharing his admiration. “I respected this crew for many reasons that day and one of them was the way you worked together.” 

Franky chuckled to himself. “You all did terribly! Usopp almost got killed by Jabra, Chopper was out of control and I also heard from Nami that Usopp accidentally tied himself to Zoro.” Franky laughed at the absurdity before gathering himself together to add calmly. “And you, you lost to Kalifa.”

What was it with this crew and pointing out his flaws? At least, on the bright side, Judge’s changes fixed them. It was a good decision. 

Then why he was so mad at Judge when he initially told Sanji that he had changed him? Why did he fight so hard against it?

“Despite the constant disasters back then, you helped each other. Nami freed Zoro, so he could fight. Usopp sent the keys to me because he is the most super sniper there is! And you saved Usopp from Jabra. And you know,” Franky teased, “he told me what you said to him that day.”

The ringing escalated to an alarming pitch, yet Sanji’s cutting persisted. He held his breath, waiting for what he knew would come next.

“I’ll do what you can’t do…” Franky began.

“… and you will do what I can’t do.” Sanji finished. The alarming pitch grew louder, and Sanji winced, at least Franky didn’t seem to notice.

“So you remember!” Franky exclaimed. “When Usopp told me that, I admired how you found a way to summarise how our crew operates with one sentence.” 

Sanji knew they always worked like that. Pieces that supported each other in a unique way, balancing each other perfectly. Even when new members joined, that balance never broke. 

It was undeniable when he stood with them, they were an unstoppable force together. Then why didn't it feel right? He knew it and still didn’t believe it. A soldier worked alone, at the front lines, only obeying his commander.

‘You got us!’  his captain’s voice echoed. Sanji winced again, the beeping intensifying.

Why this memory? Why now?

Suddenly, Franky’s metal hand was on Sanji’s shoulder. It laid there, not bothering him from continuing his task. If anything, it increased his cutting pace tenfold. 

“Sanji,” Franky’s voice felt so close it made his head spin. “You are not alone.”

Sanji knew that already. He’d known it for years.

Franky let go of Sanji’s shoulder and moved his hand above the cutting board. Palm opened close enough for Sanji to see but far enough to not break his momentum. 

“I can help you.” 

The knife stopped mid-air. Gasping for air, Sanji was consumed by the beeping, so loud he was sure his head would explode at any moment. All of this didn’t change the fact there was still something he needed to do. 

Dark spots filled his vision, making it harder to focus. When he felt confident of his aim, he released the blade above Franky’s waiting hand. The sound of metal clashing echoed before his consciousness slipped away. 

Since Sanji had woken up in the infirmary, his thoughts from last night kept occupying his mind. Sanji tried his best to push them away, but they persistently returned, haunting him with questions he didn’t have the answer to. 

Nami-san was drawing maps in her room while Sanji was leaning on the railing when he heard a call. 

“Hey, Sanguro!” 

It must be someone from Wano, but he didn’t recognise the voice. He walked to the other side of the deck and saw a person on the port beneath him. 

The man had long dark hair and wore a pink kimono with a white sword connected to it. He had a smile on his face that brightened when he saw Sanji. He couldn’t tell what the hell he wanted from him. 

“Who are you?” Sanji said as he felt the itch from yesterday's return. He ignored it and focused on the man before him. Sanji didn’t remember meeting someone who looked like that.

“Oh, right. I forgot I didn’t tell you.” The man started and Sanji narrowed his eyebrows. “It's me! Momonoske!”

Sanji considered whether to believe him. He had some similarities to Momo, although he would have missed it if he hadn’t been told. The pink kimono and the sword that matched Zoro’s were great indicators. It was only fair Oden’s son would get the other one. 

“What do you want, Momo?” 

Momo’s smile softened. “I heard you and O-Nami were on the ship, and I haven’t seen you for a while. I wanted to express my gratitude for the help you provided me in Onigashima.”

The gratitude bothered him, although he didn’t know why.

A picture of his bloody hands after his battle against Queen popped into his head before it was replaced by a memory of Zeff wrapping his damaged hand as a child.

Dammit. Couldn’t his mind just leave him alone for two seconds instead of asking stupid questions and showing him random memories?

Sanji breathed to calm himself and redirected his attention to Momo who talked again. “Yamato should be here soon. Can I come up?” 

Sanji’s observation haki alerted him of danger. He sky-walked his way to Momo and positioned himself between him and an unseen enemy. Trusting his haki that the danger was there.

The ringing from yesterday returned, less loud but still present enough to disrupt his focus.

“Sangu-?”

A gunshot rang out, and Sanji swiftly intercepted the bullet to protect Momo. The ringing in his head intensified, not as bad as yesterday, yet enough to threaten his concentration.

Realising he needed to finish this quickly, Sanji ran toward the source of the gunshot. More bullets were fired, but he blocked each one successfully. He found the culprit and delivered a powerful kick, causing the person to drop the gun and collide with a tree.

Sanji marched towards him while he heard Momo running behind him. The man laid on the ground, unconscious and defenseless. Sanji felt compelled to complete the task, delivering a single precise kick to the throat. The ringing in his head diminished with his decision.

Sanji lifted his leg, but Momo rushed to stand in front of him. “Wait! Sanguro!” Momo raised his hands, fear evident in his expression.

His fear made sense as only moments ago an assassin tried to kill him. However, Momo didn’t look at the assassin. His eyes were on Sanji, introducing a moment of uncertainty.

The ringing in Sanji’s head transitioned into beeping. While the instinct to protect Momo persisted, a realisation struck him. Momo wasn’t a member of his crew, and protecting him wasn’t Sanji’s primary purpose.

Considering his options, Sanji contemplated leaving, returning to the ship to be available for commands from those he was made to serve. His haki indicated Momo’s limited power, he wasn’t much stronger than the last time he saw him. If the assassin woke up or if there were more of them coming, Momo wouldn’t be able to protect himself. 

A decision formed in Sanji’s mind – he could quickly end the assassin’s life and no longer waste his time on this nonsense. Then, he could go back to those whom he belonged to. All he had to do was break his neck. 

However, Momo’s pleading eyes reminded Sanji that he was just a kid in an adult body.

The turmoil in Sanji’s mind manifested physically. His head spun, breathing became difficult, and his knees gave way. Incapable of standing, he sank to his knees, hands tightly gripping his head in a desperate effort to alleviate the overwhelming pain.

“Sanguro?” Momo’s voice sounded distant and faded. Sanji struggled to respond. He heard distorted voices talking around him that eventually faded into silence. 

In the quiet, Sanji sensed a hand gently touching his chest, amplifying its rapid movements. 

“Breath,” Momo instructed. Through the loud beeping in his ears, Sanji attempted to match his breathing with Momo’s slow and audible inhalations. Gradually, the strained breaths eased into a calming rhythm, and the beeping subsided.

The hand withdrew from his chest, and Sanji glanced up at Momo through his bangs, who offered him a soft smile. “Feeling better?”

Sanji still felt dizzy and his knees were still shaking, but overall he felt better, so he meekly nodded. Momo helped him stand up while Sanji noticed that the assassin was gone. 

Momo, confused, followed Sanji’s gaze. “That’s okay. Yamato took him to the capital and I trust him to handle it until I’m back.” He reassured him. 

They walked back to the Sunny and a sense of relief washed over Sanji when he set foot on the deck. He leaned on the railing, exhausted from today's events when Momo joined him by his side. 

“Kinamon taught me that. I had nightmares after Kaido burned down my home. Kinamon was always there to wake me up. He placed his hand on my chest and asked me to breathe until I calmed down.” 

The wind tousled Momo's hair. “The nightmares still came, but it made it easier to deal with them.” Sanji hummed in response. 

“It was nice seeing you, Sanguro.” Momo embraced him, but Sanji only stood there awkwardly, uncertain of what to do. 

“And thank you for saving me again.” Momo released him, waving his hand to Sanji as he left the Sunny.

Later that night, Sanji found himself dreaming about one of his early days at the Baratie. 

He was ten years old when he awoke from another terrifying nightmare. Trembling and tearful, he clutched his mouse plushy to his chest as he silently approached Zeff’s room. Zeff, as usual, read Sanji well and understood his silent request. He tapped on his bed, and Sanji hurriedly made his way to it. Snuggling his plushy under the covers with Zeff by his side, he felt safe for the first time in his life.  

Sanji stirred, his eyes fluttering open. He found himself on his bunk in the Sunny and from the darkness enveloping the room he realised he had woken up way too early, hours before he was supposed to. Sitting up, he surveyed the room, when his eyes landed on his locker. 

He pushed himself to his feet, quietly moving toward it. Everyone around him was still asleep, and he was careful not to wake them up as he slowly opened his locker. Sanji’s right hand took out the book Robin-chan gave him, and he closed the locker with the other. 

It was too dark in the boys’ room for Sanji to see properly, so he stepped outside. Robin-chan was up in the crow’s nest for her night watch, so sitting outside would make him more available for her if she wanted his services. 

Sanji sat down, close to the boys' room but still far enough to not cause trouble and inconvenience for anyone who desired to enter or leave it. 

He opened the book and started to read, losing himself quickly in the story. The first ray of sunshine caused him to lift his head from the book, for the first time in hours. Now aware of the time, Sanji knew that he needed to make breakfast preparations. He was about to get up when he felt something on his back. 

It was one of the blankets from the girls’ room. He searched around for someone who could have placed it on him but found none. Sanji turned his gaze back at the now-closed book as he wondered how the shitty geezer was doing. 

As the breakfast dishes were washed, Sanji and Jinbei remained in the galley. Sanji dried his hands with a towel when Nami-san opened the door. “Torao is here to see you, Sanji. He is waiting outside.” 

Her voice always had a glint of sadness whenever she talked to him. He tried cheering her up with his cooking, but that didn’t seem to work. Even when he made her favourites, she still had a subtle pain in her eyes. But it was Nami-san, and he wouldn’t give up trying. 

Placing his apron neatly on the pristine kitchen counter, Sanji headed toward the door. As he glanced outside, he noticed Law on the deck. Nami-san followed his gaze and instantly got annoyed. 

“Why did you ask me to call him if you were going to come to the deck anyway?!” She yelled at Law, who only shrugged his shoulders and locked his eyes with Sanji’s. 

“Do you mind coming with me?” 

“Sure.” Sanji nodded, he had time until lunch. 

As he stepped down to the port, Sanji felt the familiar itch in the back of his head. He halted and took a few deep breaths until it was gone. Law patiently waited for him to finish, then guided Sanji to the sail of his submarine. 

Standing alone, Law informed him that his crew was currently traveling somewhere around Wano, leaving only the two of them. 

Law reached inside his kimono and pulled out a package. He handed it to Sanji to take. Turning it around as Sanji examined it, he found nothing strange. It was just some object that was wrapped in brown paper. 

“You can open it,” Law stated in his usual composed tone. Sanji followed his instruction, slowly unravelling the paper layer to reveal the item beneath. “A book?”

“A cooking book.” Law corrected, “And an apology.”

An apology? “What for?” Sanji asked, confused. 

“The Germa suit. I got excited to see a comic character from my childhood come to life.” Law sighed. “I didn’t think of the implications.” 

Law walked to the railing, signalling Sanji to join him. Sanji looked at the water beneath them before Law extracted another item from his kimono - a piece of paper. 

He lowered it enough for Sanji to see. It was the paper Sanji had signed on as Stealth Black when Law had asked for his autograph. 

“While working on your cure, Tony-ya shared with me necessary information about your history with Germa.” Law released the paper, and Sanji observed it descending, sinking into the depths of the sea.

“I’m sorry, Black Leg-ya.” Law’s voice had the most emotion he heard from the man since they met. 

“Don’t worry about it.” Sanji knew it wasn't Law’s fault; he hadn’t known any better back then. It didn’t change the fact that Law’s gesture eased something deep inside of him. 

Sanji developed an anxious association with drinks. It was wrong, simply cold beverages not even complicated to make, but the person he was making them to…

She was as beautiful as ever. Sanji paused in awe at the entrance of the library bathed in the warm glow of the setting sun, casting a warm light over Nami-san. 

She sat with her back to him, carefully drawing a new map on her table, her movements precise and deliberate, as Sanji stepped forward.

Each step he took closer to her felt like wading through a mire of unvoiced anger. He slightly bent to set down her drink on the centre table behind her, mindful not to disturb her concentration more than he probably had.

He couldn’t help but look up at Nami-san, part of him insisted on staying until she turned around. Another part reminded him of the small shift in her movements, more hurried, almost tense, since he entered the room.

Reluctantly Sanji straightened up and turned to leave, when his eyes caught sight of a familiar paper on the small counter next to Nami-san’s table. Tentatively reaching for it, he let his hand turn it, his breath hitched when it dawned on him he was corrected. 

The letter from Zou, promising the crew he would come back. 

“You can take it back; I don’t need it,”

Startled by Nami-san's sharp voice, the hate in it is unmistakable, his gaze snapped back to her rigid posture. 

He knew that hate, painful and raw, the kind that came from being burned for caring. Glancing back at the letter, he knew she had every reason to be angry.

His hand lost its grasp of the letter as he let the burning question inside him out. 

“Why did you keep it?”

To Sanji’s surprise, she turned on her chair to face him, her eyes narrowed. Silence enveloped them as he waited for her response.

“I used to think it was something to hold on to. In the end, it’s just a piece of paper.”

Shit, was the damage he caused had started all the way in Zou? Or did it start even before that? How long had she been suffering because of him? 

It was Nami-san. Even if it was one second, it was too long.

“I’m sorry, Nami-san,” he offered, his voice barely above a whisper.

“Oh, would you please just shut it?” Nami-san said, pressing her fist to her forehead and squeezing her eyes angrily. Sanji didn’t know what to do as he noticed her slight shaking. 

Seizing her teeth, before she let her fist fall and her eyes opened to glare at him.

Her expression now was identical to the one she had given him right after she slapped him on Whole Cake Island. It didn’t get easier to face it a second time. 

Her hands pressed the table as she pushed herself up, her eyes fixed on him as he silently waited for her to continue.

“Don’t you get it? It means nothing,” Nami-san said, her voice cracking with betrayal, “You apologised for not following orders like a robot, you thanked me for slapping you, and I can’t even start to imagine what idiotic reason you have for your fake pleasantries now.”

He stood there, absorbing every word he probably deserved. 

“You think one empty apology will magically erase everything?”

He wanted to tell her he meant his words, but she had asked him to shut up, and she clearly wasn’t done. He clenched his fists, nails digging into his palms.

“You are not Sanji,” She accused and frankly he was surprised it took this long for someone to finally say it.

“You lied to us for so long, pretending everything was fine as if we hadn’t abandoned one of our own on that stupid island.”

There was so much wrong in that sentence.

“We lost him,” Her voice cracked a little, “to his nothing of a family.” 

A sinking dread filled Sanji's chest as her frustration which was directed at the situation, suddenly transitioned to him. 

“And you-” Nami-san pointed an accusing finger at him, “-don’t even have the courtesy to respect our grief!” She yelled accusingly, gesturing her hand dismissively. 
 
His eyes dropped shamefully. She was suffering and all he did was stand and watch.

“Instead of letting us deal with our loss, you don’t even give us a chance to admit it!”  Nami-san roared, “How can we grieve for Sanji-kun when a living copy walks among us? How can we grieve when the copy is also a skilled chef? When the copy declares the same devotion to our captain?”

Sanji considered answering back, claiming his defence for not being a copy. Stating that if Judge could have copied him or his siblings, the Whole Cake fiasco would have never happened. But she asked him to stay quiet and he would always grant a lady’s request.

“You are fucking fake, with your tasteless cooking, and your precarious loyalty.”

Sanji’s glance returned to hers as he noticed something changing in the atmosphere. It was cold and empty, and for a moment he considered the yelling better over this suffocating silence. 

“I bet the moment Judge shows up, you would betray all of us,” Nami-san crossed her arms over her chest, a broken look in her eyes aimed at him, “Maybe we should have just left you with him.” 

Sanji flinched at the words, something inside him fracturing. His chest tightened, making it hard to breathe. 

The notion that Nami-san could think they should have left him with Judge was like a punch to the gut. His gaze faltered, unable to meet her eyes. His hands trembled slightly at his sides.

“You are not Sanji,” She said again, the words cut something deep inside Sanji before she added quietly as if trying to push the words out, “and you are never going to be.”

He stayed silent, she was hurt and he was the reason. The least he could do was let her let it out. He tried to ease his slight trembling as he waited for her to continue, and he looked up at her again slightly confused as the silence stretched too long.

Was she done berating him?

The anger fueled back as her eyes returned to his, “Then why the fuck are you here?” Her angry yet broken eyes had tears in their corner. “Why haven’t you left?”

Sanji watched as Nami-san's fingers traced the edges of the letter. A salty tear fell onto the paper as her voice, barely above a whisper, trembled with pain.

“Why… why had he left us behind at Zou?” She looked at the paper as if it held all the answers of the universe. “He could have taken us with him.”

Could she stop referring to him as two different people? He was the one who threw them to safety, who knew the reason was more than enough to make him do it again.

“We could have helped him.”

They did help. He would have never succeeded in saving the Vinsmokes on his own.

“Then why did he -”

“They hurt you, Nami-san,” It was out of his place to cut her off, but he couldn’t stop himself. “And they were going to again,” Sanji said with certainty.

Nami-san’s head snapped toward him, her eyes wide with shock, but before she could respond, Sanji continued, “You know I would never agree to that.”

Nami-san blinked, her expression softening slightly, but confusion lingered in her eyes. Her grip on the letter slackened, and it slipped from her fingers onto the table.

Sanji watched her, uncertainty gnawing at him. Had he said something wrong? The sudden shift in her demeanour left him questioning everything.

For a moment, they stood frozen, her eyes locked on his. Something unreadable flickered in them, her breath catching as tears welled up. She took a hesitant step forward, then another.

Without warning, Nami-san's arms wrapped around him tightly. Her body shook against his, her sobs muffled against his shoulder. He stood still, unsure of how to respond, his mind racing.

Slowly, almost hesitantly, Sanji lifted his arms and placed them around her. The hold was foreign, yet strangely familiar. He didn't understand why she was crying, but it didn't seem to matter at that moment. 

Nami-san clung to him, her tears soaking into his shirt. Her voice, barely audible through her sobs, whispered, “Please, Sanji-kun…”

Something about her wording… it was meaningful to him. 

“Don’t leave us again,” she pleaded, her voice breaking. 

Every previous thought escaped him as Sanji held her a little tighter, the awkwardness gradually fading. Her words echoed in his mind, grounding him in a way he couldn’t fully grasp. He stayed, feeling the weight of her plea, knowing it was where he needed to be.

Late at night, the only people awake on the Sunny were Sanji and Franky, the latter on lookout duty up in the crow’s nest. While Franky had a reason to stay up, Sanji didn’t.

Despite knowing, he should be sleeping to avoid tiredness the next day, Sanji found himself restless. His thoughts kept drifting to the cooking book Law had given him. Although he had glimpsed through it hours ago, it was just a peak, and Sanji wanted more.

That's how Sanji found himself standing in his kitchen at 2 am, swiftly flipping through the pages until he discovered a promising cookie recipe. Not missing a beat, he began working on it, occasionally tweaking portions to improve the end result. Overall, the cookies turned out great.

As he took a bite, he enjoyed the burst of sweetness and the richness of the chocolate chips. The buttery taste and the slight hint of salt balanced perfectly, creating a delightful blend of flavours that made him smile.

Sanji placed some of them on a plate to cool down while he sat on the floor and watched another tray of them slowly bake in the oven. 

A loud sniff pulled Sanji out of his trance and he turned his head to see Luffy peeking inside the galley. Luffy’s eyes widened at the sight of the fresh cookies on the bar, and he began drooling.

“You can have them,” Sanji said, prompting Luffy to sprint to the bar, leaving a trail of smoke behind him.

Though Sanji faced away from Luffy, he sensed his presence not far behind. It felt awkward even though it shouldn’t be. It just… this hadn’t happened for a long time. 

Luffy had kept his distance, not uttering a word to Sanji for weeks. They were only near each other during meals when Sanji served the food, but even then, Luffy remained silent.

Sanji focused back on the oven, the sound of Luffy munching on the cookies filling the room. The nearness of Luffy behind him brought a strange combination of comfort and unease.

Then, a change in his usual behaviour unfolded as Luffy, for the first time in weeks, praised Sanji’s food. 

“DELICIOUS!!!!!” 

A thunder struck, but there was no rain outside. 

The brightness was overwhelming.

When Sanji’s sight recovered, he found himself no longer in the kitchen. Instead, he stood in a field surrounded by grass and lifeless bodies. The only living presence in the dark field was one malnourished Luffy, who sat behind him as he devoured all the food in the bento. 

Another thunder resonated, and this time there was rain. 

Sanji’s clothes were soaked wet, and he was on his knees. Luffy stood before him with ragged clothes that were equally wet, but he clearly didn’t care. 

“You got us!” Luffy beamed at him and shit, he missed that smile so much. 

It was surprising how readily Luffy agreed. Sanji kicked him with all his might and insulted Luffy to his face with everything Sanji believed could have hurt him enough to leave him alone. He had caused Luffy so much pain and merely a few hours later, Sanji had the audacity to ask him for a favour - to save his abusive family. 

It was absurd that Sanji had even considered helping those scumbags, but he couldn’t have found it in himself to abandon them. And Luffy, being Luffy, understood him and handed Sanji his complete love and support. 

Sanji didn’t even thank him. 

He could blame the unfair treatment Judge had forced on him that had caused him to barely feel any emotion that day. However, it didn’t ease his guilt or erase his ungratefulness toward Luffy, who invaded Yonko’s territory just to get him back and save him. 

Shit. He messed up hard. 

“Sanji?” The voice faintly echoed from a distance, yet undeniably familiar. 

Sanji shut his eyes and concentrated on Luffy’s voice calling him again. Savouring how Luffy, one of his closest friends, finally talked to him again. 

The love he felt for Luffy surged within him.

Sanji’s eyes flew open as realisation struck him —

His emotions returned.

No. It couldn’t be.

Could it?

Sanji reflected on Zeff and the Baratie, and an overwhelming sense of love enveloped him. When he thought of Judge, an undeniable hatred surged through him. As he thought of his crew, he experienced an all-consuming guilt for hurting them for weeks. 

However, it didn’t diminish the indescribable happiness Sanji felt of being home in the Sunny, in his kitchen. Finally, creating food again out of love and not necessity. 

A damp sensation on his cheek prompted him to touch it. It was wet. He was crying.

Thank fuck. 

His gaze shifted to the side when he noticed a red blurry lamp beside him. Luffy sat on the kitchen floor next to him, smiling softly.

Sanji felt the urge to apologise for everything he had put his nakama through, or at the very least, thank them for everything they did for him. Starting today, beginning with Luffy.

He turned his head to look at his captain (his friend, his nakama), and when their eyes locked, he noticed something he hadn’t seen in a long time. Whether it was because Luffy had kept his distance or due to Sanji’s lack of emotion, he didn’t know, nor did he care.

Because right now, he finally saw it again — the admiration, the respect, the relief, the happiness, and the boundless love, all directed at him in Luffy’s glassy eyes.

“Luffy…”

Sanji couldn’t contain himself any longer. All the words he had planned to say disappeared, replaced by an intense emotion burning inside him. He knew it might be less convenient as they were both sitting on the floor, but he didn’t care. 

Sanji lunged at Luffy, hugging him tightly, holding him as a lifeline as they both fell to the ground. Luffy immediately reciprocated, wrapping his arms around Sanji and letting out a hearty laugh. Sanji hadn’t heard him laugh since he had woken up after his battle with Kaido. It was loud and incredibly liberating. 

They remained with their arms intertwined, crying on each other’s shoulders and laughing together. After a while, Sanji pulled slightly away, looked down at the shitty rubber beneath him and smiled. 

“Oi Luffy.”

Luffy's expression shifted to confusion as he tilted his head. "What?"

Sanji grinned at him. "Have you ever heard of the All Blue?"

Luffy's usual "shi, shi, shi, shi" echoed in the room as he nodded. Sanji felt something land on his head. He looked up and recognised Luffy’s cherished straw hat immediately.

Sanji returned his gaze to Luffy, a smile stretching across his face.

"Tell me all about it!"