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The absolute height of power was to be loved and not love in return. The ability to demand desire, attention, devotion, and give nothing in exchange.

Sanji learned this lesson quite young and realized soon after that he would never be powerful.

In his youngest years, Sanji loved his entire family. The failure of his body to be flesh and not metal ate away at him not because of the inevitable pain training sessions would bring, but because that failure erected a wall between him and his father and brothers and sister. If he could will himself to be like them, will his body to rewrite its DNA, then he would be loved.

Love, Sanji knew, was earned. It was a feat that could be attained with enough acts of service and shows of strength, and it could just as easily be taken away when the body failed.

The ability to be loved, the right to receive love, was a property inscribed on the body.

There were anomalies, of course. But Sanji rationed that his mother loved him more because he could cook for her, and that she would probably love him less if he didn’t. Reiju liked that he complimented her on the subtle traits their father seemed to miss, and in exchange, she would help him out when their father averted his gaze.

When he found a new home with the shitty old man, Sanji was determined not to screw up this time. He’d never admit aloud that he wanted anything from the shitty old man, let alone his approval (let alone love), but he’d stay up late and get up early and work twice as hard as every other cook.

Sometimes, in his frenzy, Sanji’s eyes would start to droop from exhaustion, and the shitty old man would lightly kick him and tell him to get his ass to bed like all the good brats. Sanji would scream, but he only ever threw an actual tantrum once because the memory of being picked up in front of the other cooks and physically brought to his bed was one he would never quite live down.

But the shitty old man loved the Baratie more than anything, so even if Sanji would never be powerful, he’d give everything up to and including his life, to see it succeed.

And he did. Cook, clean, fight, and ignore the strange, other version of himself that would appear sometimes when he was feeling particularly powerless. The other Sanji had dark hair and cruel eyes and seemed to think it was very funny how hard he had to try at everything.

“You burned yourself?” the other Sanji laughed after Sanji had accidentally splashed one of his hands with grease from an overly fully frying pan. Zeff hadn’t said a word at the incident, instead opting to grab his wrist and shove his burning fingers under a running faucet. Afterwards, Sanji had been regulated to sitting in the corner, holding a bag of frozen peas to his wounds.

Sanji glared at the other him, but didn’t say anything, continuing to stew silently in his misery.

“It’s pretty pathetic, don’t you think?” the other Sanji said. “A cook that can’t cook? You know, if you weren’t born useless, stuff like this wouldn’t happen.”

Sanji knew speaking aloud would draw unwanted attention from the other cooks. He had done it before, even tried to explain the other version of himself to the shitty old man. Zeff was good at concealing his thoughts behind a perpetually grumpy face, but that had managed to get a downright worried look out of him. The other Sanji had practically fallen over laughing at the exchange.

So, he ignored him. And the other Sanji smirked. “You know I’m right.” And Sanji did.

-

Being temporarily suspended from piarcy and forced to work as a chore boy without pay was a bit of a speed bump on Luffy’s journey to the Grand Line, but he was ready to make the most of it. The cooks had already forbidden him from washing dishes and taking orders, so he was left to swab the decks.

The cooks were all pretty funny. They yelled a lot and swore even more, and all of the food Luffy had managed to eat before being taken off waiter duty was pretty good. And he was looking for a good cook.

Soft murmurs from a deck below drifted up to him, and Luffy watched as the cook in the fancy clothes spoke so gently to the starving pirate.

“I still don’t have any money,” the pirate said, wincing at the sight of the steaming plate in front of him, likely in preparation for it to be taken away in a particularly cruel taunt.

“So?” the cook said. “Who cares about money? Can’t fill your stomach.”

The cook set the plate down and busied himself with a cigarette, while the pirate scrambled to eat.

“Hey,” the cook said. “Go slow. Starving makes your stomach go to shit.” The pirate paused, looking nervously between the food and the cook, which earned him a sigh. “Let me know if you need more,” he added, and that seemed to convince the pirate to keep eating.

The pirate sobbed his thanks, then apologized for inconveniencing him, for being such a mess in his current state.

The cook shook his head. “I don’t need your shitty apologies.” And he smiled. “Just let me know that it’s good, alright?”

Luffy smiled, too. He didn’t even need to taste the food to know that everything was very, very good.

-

Sanji knew he had a chip on his shoulder. When he was young, it was impossible to fight back against the world. But then, after leaving Germa, the metal bars and skin gave way, and he could snap back. Fight, kick, punch, bite, and scream and it would actually make a difference.

Hitting someone and having them actually be hurt was both amazing and terrifying. Fighting was fun. Lashing out, asserting that, yes, he did have some power over his own fate, felt good. It felt good enough that he got into too many fights, and as a child, Zeff once pulled him off another child and told the parents offhandedly, “Eggplant doesn’t play well with others.”

Sanji was offended, but it was also true. He’d kick at the other cooks, tell them to go fuck themselves, and they’d smack and curse right back. But then they’d all equally get yelled at, and at the end of his day, Sanji would go back to his room, not a dark hole in the ground. Then, he could do it again the next day, and Zeff would just shake his head or deliver a quick kick and tell him to knock it off.

Because as long as everyone got back up again, everything was fine. And besides, the other cooks had to be around him if they wanted a job. He didn’t actually need them to like him or anything.

Sanji didn’t play well with others, and Sanji was hard to like. “And Sanji doesn’t have any friends,” the other him said.

But now, Sanji had a crew, and he was absolutely determined to play this cool because he really, really wanted them to like him.

Luffy was the easiest. He had spent days harassing Sanji into joining and seemed happy to have him around as long as he could keep cooking for him.

Nami was tricky, but pleasing her was so, so important. The only girl Sanji had really been friends with was Reiju, who made it a point to never say what she really thought about anything. So Sanji decided to be rational and just do whatever Nami told him without hesitation.

Usopp was more transparently desperate to be liked than Sanji, and recognizing that immediately made him endearing. Of course, Sanji would never say that aloud. Doing so would probably wreck Usopp’s already shaky self-confidence. So, Sanji would defend him when necessary, act as his shield, but quietly.

Then Zoro. Sanji thought long and hard about it. Then, he came to an epiphany.

Fuck Zoro.

The cooks on the Baratie had to put up with Sanji’s shitty attitude because of Zeff, so Zoro would have to put up with him because of Luffy. Sanji’s childhood had taught him a lot of lessons the more he reflected on it, and one of them was to cut his losses. “You’re hard enough to like as it is,” the other Sanji reminded him. “And three out of four’s probably aiming high anyway.”

So Sanji cooked and served and protected. And as long as he could do those things, he would have friends.

And most of the time, he thought he was doing a pretty damn good job.

One morning, Sanji stumbled getting out of bed. Stupid Zoro had sprawled out on the floor instead of his usual spot on the couch, and Sanji had tripped over him. They fought, Luffy briefly poked his head up from his hammock before going back to sleep, and Usopp sighed dramatically.

After showing Zoro what’s what, as per usual in their fights, Sanji composed himself, headed to the kitchen, and was quite surprised to see Usopp follow him up a few minutes later. “I tried,” Usopp said, taking a seat at the table with a yawn. “But more sleep was not going to happen. Oh well. Can get an early start on my inventions today.”

Usopp wasn’t a big coffee drinker, but Sanji served him a cup without needing to be asked while they chatted about Usopp’s various plans for the day. “Oh, thanks!” He took an appreciative sip, and Sanji couldn’t help but smile at the sight of someone enjoying his cooking, even over something as simple as a cup of coffee.

“It’s great finally having a cook on board,” Usopp said. “Nami was driving us all into debt before.”

“Is there a problem with that? Nami-san should be able to charge whatever prices she thinks are reasonable.”

Usopp rolled his eyes. “Yeah, nevermind. Forgot who I was talking to.” He yawned. “Man, do you always get up this early?”

“Everyday,” Sanji said, turning back to his breakfast preparations.

“And you have to get right to work feeding Luffy, huh? You know, sometimes I wish I could cook better, but I would not want your job.” Usopp took a long, contemplative drink from his coffee. “Actually, now that I think about it, you do a lot of chores and stuff, too. Cooking, cleaning, laundry, helping Nami with her trees, babysitting Luffy…”

Sanji spared him a glance. “What? Are you volunteering?

“Oh, no, and I’m not complaining, either,” Usopp said. “It just seems a little… unfair, I guess? I mean, I know I’d be pretty annoyed if everyone expected me to do all of that stuff.”

“It’s not a big deal,” Sanji said. “Friends do stuff for each other.”

“Well, yeah. But I’m starting to feel kind of guilty. Like, I know I don’t really do anything for you, and I know Nami and Zoro definitely don’t. And Luffy’s Luffy.” Usopp paused. “It just feels sort of weird. You’re our friend, not our servant, you know?”

Sanji felt a rush of heat down his spine and resolutely stared at his preparations. The other him snickered. He had gotten it wrong. But how else was a person supposed to be a friend?

There wasn’t too much time to think of a proper answer as Sanji needed to respond to Usopp and reassure him that he was a normal person who could form normal friendships. “I like doing stuff like that,” Sanji said. “I was a cook way before I met you, longnose. Don’t overthink it.”

Usopp rubbed his nose defensively, but the awkward moment passed when he yawned again, and Sanji refilled his coffee.

The others eventually filed in, and Sanji darted back and forth between the table and the kitchen to serve them, as usual. But when they all left with thanks thrown over their shoulders, Sanji didn’t feel the same satisfaction he usually did. Instead, he started on the dishes and felt like a dog performing tricks and waiting for praise and a pat on the head.

When he left the Baratie, all the bottled up emotions had been let free, and the debt on his shoulders weighed less heavily.

For the first time since then, he felt on edge again. Zoro stumbled back through the galley doors. Sanji didn’t turn to him and bristled as he said in his dumb caveman voice that Luffy wanted to know when lunch would be ready.

Sanji would stand by the fact that Zoro started most of their fights. Because he did. Really.

This time, Sanji turned around and kicked him square in the chin, knocking him straight back to crash through the dining table. Things escalated from there, until Nami slammed the door open and screamed at both of them to stop because she couldn’t hear herself think. “And you’re destroying the galley,” Usopp whined from behind her.

Luffy, who at some point has snuck in to raid the fridge, licked his fingers. “I don’t even know what they’re fighting about. Guess it’s a mystery fight.”

Zoro just grumbled something about cooks and eyebrows. Sanji’s chest heaved, but it wasn’t because of the fight.

The other him sat on the remains of the dining table. “Sanji really doesn’t play well with others, huh?”

“I’ll clean it up,” Sanji said. “My shitty fault.”

The others exchanged looks, and Zoro, who didn’t come to his own defense about the impromptu fight, lingered for a second. But they all left one by one, leaving Sanji standing in the mess he created himself.

The other him walked back to the kitchen, leaving him in his own stupid wake. “Better luck next time.”

-

Approximately three days into sailing together as a crew, Luffy decided that he probably needed Sanji to be with him forever. Sanji cooked for him, cleaned up after him, jumped into the ocean to fish him out, and even helped wash his hair in the bathroom sink when he determined Luffy wasn’t doing it right by himself. Luffy didn’t think he’d been so well taken care of since the days grandpa had let him stay with Makino.

Luffy thought Dadan and the other bandits had done a pretty good job, but Sanji was appalled whenever he would ask if Luffy grew up in a barn and Luffy would recall what life was like on the mountain. “You had to eat really, really fast,” Luffy told him once. “‘Cause you wouldn’t get anything if you didn’t, and my brother would always push me away from the table, so I had to hit him back. And then we’d both get kicked out and have to find a new dinner in the jungle.”

Sanji covered his mouth as he took a drag on his cigarette, concealing his expression. “Alright I get it. But I promise that isn’t going to happen as long as I’m here. So stop fucking stealing off other people’s plates.”

Luffy mulled this over, nursing the bump on his head from where Sanji had kicked him after he had dumped Nami’s entire plate into his mouth at dinner that night. “I’ll think about it. No promises.”

Sanji rolled his eyes and muttered to himself that he wasn’t sure what he had been expecting. But when Luffy asked if he could have an after dinner snack, Sanji waved him away, saying he was already in the middle of preparing it.

Luffy would feel special, but really, Sanji did stuff like that for everyone.

He made drinks and snacks for Nami and let her have complete control over his share of any ship funds the first time she asked, which even surprised her. Usopp told him he didn’t actually need to do that, no matter how much debt Nami claimed he was in, but Sanji waved him off, too. “If it makes Nami-san happy, why wouldn’t I do it?”

Nami told Usopp to stop arguing if he didn’t want to get another hundred berris added to his own debt. “This is why,” Usopp whined. “Now she’s going to want all of us to do it, too. And Luffy and Zoro don’t have any money, so when I say ‘all of us,’ I mean me!”

“And that’s a problem I should care about because…?”

Usopp thunked his head on the table and announced that Sanji was ruining everything while Nami happily collected his savings. But it wasn’t like Usopp didn’t benefit from having Sanji around, either. Luffy liked Usopp and playing games with him, but he could tell that Usopp was somehow uncomfortable with him in a way that neither could put words to. And that discomfort wasn’t present when Usopp would attach himself to Sanj and start bragging about his strength and his many feats of bravery, even as Sanji hummed and nodded his way distractedly through stories. Yet somehow, Sanji always kept listening and knew just when to ask questions, long after Luffy would get bored of listening.

When Luffy said, “Usopp, you like Sanji,” Usopp nearly fell over the ship’s railing until Luffy clarified, “You like talking to him more than me about fighting and stuff.”

“Oh that. Geeze, Luffy, you almost gave me a heart attack.” When he recovered, Usopp scratched the back of his head and said, “Yeah, I guess I do. I don’t know why. I guess he just seems more…” he looked Luffy over, “human than you or Zoro, and Nami doesn’t like talking about being a warrior of the sea. I tried telling her it was a matter of manly pride, and then she insulted my manly pride!”

Luffy fished a piece of bait from their bucket and chewed on it thoughtfully, making Usopp stare in horror. “More human…”

Luffy swallowed the worm he just put in his mouth and Usopp shivered. “Yeah, definitely more human.”

And even Zoro, who resisted each gesture of care as a matter of course, was taken care of in his own way. Luffy would try sparing with Zoro sometimes, but it always seemed to leave him more frustrated and keyed up than he had been before. “You’re not taking this seriously,” Zoro said as Luffy practiced stretching his jaw wide open.

“Yes, I am,” Luffy said. “What if I need to bite someone? Like a really big chomp attack!”

Zoro sheathed his swords and said he’d handle the rest of the day’s training by himself. But with Sanji, Zoro would insist on fighting together to the point of following him around through his daily chores, throwing out insult after needling insult in what seemed to Luffy (and to everyone else who wasn’t Sanji) like a pretty transparent plea for attention.

And while Luffy wasn’t a jealous person (usually… sometimes), he was a selfish one. Maybe that was why today Sanji seemed a bit more irritated than normal. “Don’t you have anywhere else to be? Someone else to annoy the shit out of?”

“Nope!” Luffy said, adjusting his arms (wrapped three times around Sanji’s shoulders) and legs (twice around Sanji’s waist) as Sanji cooked. “Today is Sanji day!”

Sanji sighed. “Lucky me.”

“Yup!” Luffy rested his chin against Sanji’s shoulder. “Lucky Sanji.”

-

The thing about getting hit by an avalanche is that it’s shitty and not a good idea.

His back ached, and their new reindeer doctor insisted that both he and Nami were going to have regular checkups for the next few days. Sanji agreed that Nami should get her rest, but doing so wasn’t an option for Sanji. Nami could (and deserved!) to navigate from a nice chair with blankets over her shoulders and legs, a cup of tea in her hands and a snack at her side.

The same couldn’t be done for a ship’s cook, but Sanji was fine with that. Liked it almost.

As they sailed away from Drum Island, Nami had offhandedly asked Luffy how he managed to get all three of them up the mountain by himself. She wasn’t genuinely curious. Just asking for the sake of an entertaining story to lighten Vivi’s increasingly dark spirits.

This all meant that Luffy was as nonchalant as ever, barely even looking away from his fishing pole, as he walked through the steps of having to search through the miles of snow to find Sanji, dig him out with his bare hands, and carry him up the mountain in his teeth.

Luffy’s big takeaway was that, “It was so cold!” and he shivered at the memory. “The old doctor lady said I had a lot of frostbite. I almost lost all my toes!” And he giggled, somehow delighted by the near amputation.

Nami rolled her eyes. “As you can see,” she said to a stunned Vivi, “This guy is a monster. So you don’t have anything to worry about.”

It didn’t exactly reassure Vivi, but it did lead to a lighter atmosphere as they exchanged stories of all of Luffy’s impressive, if not borderline suicidal, antics.

The dual image of Luffy digging endlessly until his hands bled and Nami, delirious with fever, being forced to wait alone in the freezing cold made the pain from Sanji’s constant standing feel like a kind of penance.

Sanji had quickly decided that Luffy and Nami were two of his most important people in the world, so it only seemed fair to endure a little torment for their sakes. The least he could do was keep performing as a cook while they recovered from the injuries that he made worse.

The waters just outside of Drum Island were still cold, so nearly everyone was cooped up in the galley, running back and forth to play games with the snow collected on the deck (Luffy, Usopp, and Chopper) or actually steer the damn ship (Nami).

Luffy darted inside to shove a handful of snow down the back of Zoro’s shirt, which led to threats, punches, and general chaos, which Sanji had to navigate while carrying a full tray of hot drinks. He leaned down to place the tray on the table and felt a now familiar twinge in his lower back. He pressed a hand to it as he straightened, clenching his teeth to let the pain pass.

Back at the Baratie, sometimes Zeff would grumble about pain in his leg, and he’d need to spend a few hours in a chair, barking orders at the rest of the cooks. It always made Sanji feel guilty, and he’d work twice as hard those days. There were some pains that never truly went away.

Once, Sanji must have been staring too much, and the old man huffed, “Life is pain, Eggplant. You can either deal with it or die.”

In the midst of the crew’s antics, Chopper approached Sanji, tugging at his apron. “If your back’s hurting, you should lie down.”

Sanji waved him off. “Don’t worry. I’ve had a lot worse.”

“Okay,” Chopper said. “But stop if it hurts too much. Working through the pain only makes things worse.”

Sanji laughed. Working through the pain was a way of life. “Sure, sure. But you know if you don’t drink your hot chocolate, Luffy will.”

Chopper gasped and swiveled around to bat away Luffy’s rubbery hands.

Sanji made his way back to the kitchen and let out a quiet hiss through his teeth when the talking and merriment was at its loudest. He kept working, making extra sure that Nami, with her red nose and blankets, and Luffy, with bandages still wrapped around his hands and feet, were even better taken care of than normal.

That night, Sanji slowly lowered himself into a tub filled with ice in a desperate attempt to numb the now throbbing pain in his back, a routine he’d keep up all the way to Alabasta without saying a word. Life may be pain, but if you can’t feel it, then you’re not really hurt.

If he screams out in hurt and no one is around to hear it, then it didn’t happen and no one was inconvenienced.

The other him hummed in agreement.

-

Luffy was mad at Sanji.

Early on in their adventures, Sanji told him that he didn’t play games. And that apparently meant that Sanji stayed in the kitchen and refused to come out and build snowmen or throw snowballs or bury Zoro in snow when he fell asleep.

But Luffy knew Sanji liked to have fun. He would smile and get excited about things, but he always had this weird, nervous energy whenever he did that Luffy didn’t understand. It almost seemed like Sanji felt like he wasn’t allowed to enjoy himself.

Sure, he said that doing things for other people made him happy, watching other people eat his food and hearing their thank yous. But a lot of it just seemed like pointless toiling to Luffy.

Which was stupid. Because they were on an adventure and adventures were fun. Life was fun.

Meeting Vivi had been a learning experience. She was nice, she was determined, and she had a goal she was dead set on fulfilling, no matter the personal cost. Maybe she was a bit more reserved and had more of what Nami dubbed “common sense” than Luffy, but besides those unimportant things, on paper the two of them should have been two peas in a pod.

And yet Vivi constantly surprised him. “You can’t behave that way,” she said, voice stern but not unkind. They had been given permission to sail to Drum Island, and Luffy was still thinking about what Vivi had said to him about being a leader. “When people are relying on you, your decisions aren’t just your own anymore. And it’s your responsibility to never forget that.”

Luffy’s police (“Policy,” Sanji had corrected) was to just do whatever he felt like when he felt like it. And it usually worked out for him.

The more pirate captains and rulers and other leaders they encountered, the more Luffy noticed that a lot more people seemed to share his police than Vivi’s.

“It’s because they’re bad leaders who don’t actually care about their people,” Nami enlightened him. “And Vivi’s not like that. I don’t think you could make her be selfish if you tried.”

“Shellfish?”

“Selfish,” Nami said. “You know, that thing you are all the time.”

“You say that like it’s a bad thing.”

“Because it is.”

“But you’re selfish.”

“Yeah,” Nami said. “I never said I wasn’t.”

Luffy thought about it. “Is Zoro selfish?”

Nami snorted. “Oh yeah. Maybe even as much as you.”

“Usopp?”

“Please, like you haven’t heard about the great glory of Captain Usopp.”

“Sanji?”

Nami paused. “Not really.”

“You don’t know?”

“Look, I don’t think about these things unless it’s obvious. It’s kind of complicated, okay?” She waved a hand. “Everyone here will make the right choice about big stuff, but for small stuff, we tend to operate on a ‘fuck you, got mine’ basis. And there’s nothing wrong with that. If you only give and never take, you’re going to get screwed.”

Luffy tilted his head. “But Vivi doesn’t do that?”

“No,” Nami said with a small smile. “And it takes a special person to be that way, so stop being such a brat to her.”

Luffy pouted at her scolding. Then he thought some more. “And Sanji?”

Nami sighed. “I don’t know what to think of Sanji-kun sometimes.”

“Does that mean Sanji’s special?”

Nami snorted. “That’s a word for it.”

Luffy mulled it over for a moment, then decided thinking was hard and he was tired of it. It made him hungry.

Sanji was in the kitchen as usual. As unusual, he hissed in pain when Luffy wrapped around his back. “Oi, off. Just had shitty back surgery, remember?”

“Oh yeah,” Luffy said, dropping his arms. “Can I still have a snack?”

Sanji hummed in confirmation.

Luffy stared at Sanji’s back and remembered the moment he had disappeared under the snow. Luffy had been confused when it happened. Nami said they’d all make the right decision for a big moment, but he had trouble envisioning himself or Zoro or even Usopp doing something like that. They all protected the crew, sure, but it seemed different somehow.

He poked Sanji’s spine.

“Stop.”

“I’m not touching the bad part.”

“It’s all the shitty bad part.”

Luffy pouted. “Fine. Can I have two snacks?”

“Yeah, whatever.”

“Three snacks?”

“Sure.”

“Four—”

“Don’t push your luck.”

“Hey, Sanji? If you had something fun, but I wanted it, would you give it to me?”

“Probably,” Sanji said without hesitation. “Depends what it is.”

Luffy looked around. “A cigarette.”

“You don’t smoke.”

“But what if I wanted one?”

Sanji shrugged and retrieved his cigarettes from his jacket pocket. “Go ahead. Chopper’ll be pissed.”

Luffy obviously did not reach for the carton. “Something different… a fancy fish!”

“Long as you let me cook it first.”

“A kitchen knife!”

“What the fuck are you going to use a shitty knife for?”

“I don’t know. Just to have.”

“I’ll buy you your own damn knives if you want them that bad.”

This game was hard. What else did Sanji like? “One of your books,” Luffy said. “The thick ones with the fancy covers.”

Sanji furrowed his brow. “The fancy covers?”

“You know,” Luffy said. “The ones with the people in fancy clothes, but they’re all, like, half naked and stuff? Nami reads them sometime—”

“Those are private!” Sanji screeched. “And Nami-san does not read them!”

“Yes, she does,” Luffy said. “I asked her what they were about, and she said they were brassy.”

“Trashy,” Sanji corrected. Then his face flared with color as his words caught up to him. “They are not trashy! They are romantic stories of love and passion!”

“Okay.” Luffy picked his nose. “So can I have one?”

Sanji ran a hand through his hair. “You don’t actually want one.”

“Yes, I do.”

Sanji groaned. “Fine. You can have the one with the pink cover.” Then he mumbled under his breath, “Had a shitty ending anyway.”

“Woo! Thanks, Sanji!”

Luffy ran out of the room, relishing the victory until he realized what he was celebrating. Sanji had bent to his pointless demands and gave up one of the few fun things he had on the ship just for himself.

Luffy stared at the dumb book Sanji had allowed him to take, flipping the pages back and forth with no intention to actually read them. Weeks later, he’d eventually ask Robin to read it to him, and her smile grew when she saw the cover. “Is this one of your books, Captain-san?”

“Sanji gave it to me.”

Robin chuckled. “This does seem more to Cook-san’s tastes.”

“Nami said it was trashy.”

“It is,” Robin agreed. “But sometimes those books can be the most fun to read.”

Luffy considered this and asked for the book back, to which Robin obliged. Then, he went to Sanji and asked if he would read it to him. Sanji screamed that no he would absolutely not.

Eventually, they settled on the galley’s couch, and Sanji’s face was bright red as he cleared his throat and started with chapter one. Luffy couldn’t see what the big deal was or how the book about people kissing was fun at all.

But this was Sanji’s version of fun, and Luffy wanted to be a good captain, and good captain’s never forgot their crewmates were relying on them. And maybe there was something to having fun by watching other people have fun. Maybe. Not really. Luffy could be messing with Usopp’s new invention right now, or stealing from Nami’s tangerine trees, or jumping on Zoro’s stomach to wake him up from his nap.

Sanji paused. “I’m not reading this part aloud.”

“Why not? Do they have sex?” Sanji didn’t say anything, but the blush on his face grew to his ears. Luffy reached for the book. “I can read it—”

“No!”

Okay, maybe it was a little fun.

-

The shitty swan man was on their boat.

Luffy didn’t seem too bothered. In fact, he started a kickline with him, and the two announced their everlasting friendship. Sanji took this to mean he wasn’t going to be in trouble for not finishing off his opponent and telling them to never think of showing their faces around the crew again like everyone else did.

Mercy was a complicated thing.

Zoro was strong and bloodthirsty enough that he didn’t feel the need to consider it. Swords leave permanent wounds, tearing through skin and organs without hesitation, and Zoro didn’t seem to have any problems with that. It almost seemed like mercy was an insult in the strange world of swordsmen.

Then, there was the new lovely Robin, who also didn’t seem particularly inclined to spare her opponents. The way her powers would sprout in bursts of petals was beautiful, but there was also something distinctly horrifying about seeing an arm appear out of your shoulder and grabbing your neck. Usopp had covered Chopper’s ears the first time Robin showed off her preferred method of disposing of her enemies so he wouldn’t hear the symphony of snaps.

Nami, Usopp, and Chopper fought scared, which meant they fought with nails and teeth and anything else they could to survive. The weak don’t have the luxury of being nice.

Luffy didn’t seem to think much of it either way. He punched and punched and stopped punching when they stopped moving. What more was there to it?

But Sanji let the swan man get up.

He didn’t even think anything of it at the time. He forgave the bruises and the cracked ribs and walked away.

It wasn’t a question of physical strength. Sanji could be vicious if he wanted. He could forsake the sacredness of his hands and his knives and channel every last piece of his anger into smashing skulls.

But then again, that was like saying he could also be an eight foot tall purple fishman. He could be anything if he decided to be a completely different person. It wasn’t like he hadn’t had those thoughts before.

Sanji straightened his tie, smoothed back his hair, and smiled at his reflection in the mirror. The other him said, “Do you ever wish you were different in every single way? Because you should.”

Zoro said, “You sure make a lot of friends with guys who beat the shit out of you.”

“Wrong.”

“No, it’s not.”

“Yeah, it is. Because I beat the shit out of you all the time, and we’re not friends.”

Zoro drew his swords.

The truth existed in two parts. One, Sanji had always forgiven people for hurting him. It often led to more pain and he’d probably be better off if he didn’t, but Sanji didn’t know how else to be.

The second part was that having the mental strength to be cruel, to have a heart of ice, was too painful for him to stomach. There were definitely times where it would have been better for everyone if he could. But there were also times where it would have been better if he could breathe underwater and glow in the dark and fly.

Zoro talked a lot about making the hard decisions, and Sanji couldn’t help but notice that the “hard decisions” almost always translated to being an uncompromising asshole. He hated it, and he also hated that Zoro was right a lot of the time.

Sanji glanced at the other him, lazing around as usual. Zoro would probably like this version of him with dark hair and a darker heart better. Maybe everyone would.

-

Luffy didn’t like Bon-chan for being mean to Vivi, but then they talked about the everlasting ties of friendship and shed manly tears, and Luffy decided that they were friends again.

Actually, it was sort of a miracle that Bon-chan was on their ship at all, Luffy realized. He had turned to Sanji after the initial phone call who shrugged when Zoro asked why he hadn’t just finished the guy off. “Wasn’t worth it,” Sanji said. “He’s not a bad guy. Just an idiot.”

Luffy was starting to realize that Sanji fought a lot of idiots, apparently.

Sanji was strong, and Luffy liked that, but the really amazing thing was that he defeated so many of his opponents without kicking them into the ground. From the day Luffy met him, Sanji had a habit of reducing those who opposed him to tears, but not by calling them names or punching them a lot, which was how Luffy preferred to handle things.

Instead, all the bad guys seemed to almost fall in love with him. Luffy would be more baffled by it if he hadn’t seen it happen firsthand so many times.

Sanji talked a lot about love. Love was magic, love was amazing, “If it’s for love,” Sanji had said, “I’ll do anything.”

But Sanji wasn’t the one in love as far as Luffy could tell. He definitely didn’t love Bon-chan, but he tolerated his presence and made him snacks along with the rest of the crew with only a little extra cursing.

Once, Makino had broken up one of Luffy’s fights with Ace, and she crouched down to his level with a hand on his shoulder when he accused Ace of starting it. “Ace shouldn’t say mean things, but, Luffy, you know you don’t always have to respond to it.” Luffy didn’t understand. Beside him, Ace didn’t either. Makino sighed. “Sometimes it’s better to let go and forgive. After all, if you hit Ace, and he hits you back, you’ll just keep hitting each other over and over.”

“No,” Luffy had said. “I’ll stop when Ace admits he’s dumb and wrong.”

Ace punched him for that, and Makino sighed when Luffy hit him back.

Of course, Luffy did forgive Ace for all of that. Ace definitely wasn’t bad, and he definitely was stupid. Luffy knew he was also pretty stupid, but even he could see that a childhood fistfight with his brother was leagues away from a fight to the death.

Some people were worth fighting and others weren’t. Some people were worth forgiving and others weren’t.

But it still took someone really, really kind to forgive at all.

Luffy looped his arms around Sanji.

“What do you want?”

“Meat.”

“Don’t know why I bothered asking—”

“And Sanji.”

“I’m right here, idiot.”

“Yeah. You’re a good cook.”

“I know.”

Sanji smiled at the compliment even if Luffy knew he didn’t really understand it.

-

“You idiot,” Sanji said to Zoro’s unconscious form. “You stupid, shitty idiot.”

The other Sanji didn’t even have to say a word this time. He just smiled.

Sanji couldn’t remember the last time he felt this helpless. “I already owe too much to too many people,” he said. “Don’t think this puts me in your debt, because it doesn’t.” As if debt, getting one over on each other in their childish fights, was in any way what accepting Kuma’s proposal was about.

Zoro, of course, didn’t respond. The crew was taking shifts watching over him to give Chopper a break. Of course, Luffy got banned from Zoro duty after trying to pour alcohol directly onto his sleeping face.

The man Zoro nearly died for almost accidentally drowning him with booze. It’d be funny if Sanji didn’t feel like shit.

Sanji lightly kicked one of the bed posts. “You have an important dream, idiot. You think Luffy’s just going to pick up the next world’s greatest swordsman at the next shitty island? Cooks are a dime a dozen.”

The other Sanji nodded his agreement, their opinions perfectly aligned with one another.

In the position he’s been put in, utterly dependent and incapable, Sanji can’t do anything but growl and childishly stomp his feet which made the pit in his stomach grow even larger. He tugged at his hair with both hands, in desperate need of a cigarette Chopper banned from the infirmary.

Nami had once taken him aside after the event’s on Eneru’s arc. She apologized for causing him so much trouble then gave him a light smack on the top of his head and forced him to promise to never do something like that again. “I know you were protecting us,” she had said. “But seriously, if I have to watch you die,” and her eyes narrowed dangerously, “I will never forgive you.”

At the time, Sanji had dropped to his knees to preemptively beg her forgiveness, promising he would never, ever make her worry again. It was a stupid promise, but Sanji also thought he was kind of a stupid person.

He had to wonder if this was close to what Nami felt. But the situations were different, Sanji decided. Zoro and Nami and Robin and Usopp—everyone who tried to leave or die for the crew were irreplaceable.

So Sanji said to Zoro’s body, “I’m not going to tell anyone your shitty secret, asshole. ‘Nothing happened.’ Fucking get over yourself. My foot will show you nothing. You think you’re a hero pulling this martyr shit? You just look like an idiot. Everyone thinks you’re an idiot.”

But, of course, the only one listening was Sanji.

Later when Zoro did wake up, he had the gall to approach Sanji about his actions that day.

“You said some weird stuff,” Zoro said after he barged into the kitchen in the odd hours between Luffy’s afternoon snack and dinner when Sanji was usually alone in his safe haven.

Zoro grabbed a bottle of booze, casual as ever when he sauntered to the dining table. Sanji didn’t budge from his spot at the stove even when he kicked his feet up on the table. “What was all that about finding a new cook supposed to mean?”

Sanji shrugged and kept cooking dinner. “I don’t know. What did you mean when you lied to my face about what really happened?”

“What happened wasn’t important,” Zoro said. “I didn’t lie.”

“And neither did I.”

Sanji felt Zoro’s stare on his back for a long, long moment. The other Sanji was sitting on the counter between them, happy as can be by this turn of events. “You’re making him worry about you,” he laughed. “Aw, poor Sanji. Mosshead gets hurt, and you’re so delicate that he needs to comfort you.”

“We are not finding a new cook,” Zoro finally said.

“And we’re not finding a new mosshead either, are we?”

“Stuff like that is my job. Not yours.”

“If you tell me to learn my fucking place—”

“Fuck, you’re defensive. Look,” Zoro said. “I protect the crew, which includes your dumb ass. If there is something going on with you that’s going to get in the way of that, you need to spit it out.”

Sanji bristled. The other Sanji purred, “He knows.”

“Fine,” Sanji said. He turned to face Zoro, and god did he wish this interaction wasn’t happening while he was wearing his pink panda apron. “You want to know what’s wrong with me? Nothing. Nothing has happened to me.”

Zoro broke their stare down first, but Sanji still felt like he somehow lost. “You’re an idiot.”

Zoro left the kitchen without another word, and Sanji went back to cooking, replaying the exchange over and over. The other Sanji said, “Even when you win, you lose. The Sanji way.”

Because Sanji did win and Zoro was being unreasonable. If Zoro didn’t think Sanji was entitled to know about the pain Kuma inflicted on him when it was one sword hilt away from being Sanji’s, then Zoro was absolutely not entitled to an ounce of Sanji’s pain. And fuck him for thinking otherwise.

Then, Sanji went over their conversation again, because if there was one thing he could run circles around Zoro in, it was overthinking.

What was Sanji supposed to have done? Sat down and had a heart-to-heart? While he was wearing his pink apron Zoro said made him look like a priss? “Well, you see, Mosshead, it all started in my childhood back when my father disowned me.” And then Zoro would say, “Why, yes, of course. Thank you for telling me. I am very understanding about these types of things.”

Stupid. Sanji shook his head. At the very least, Zoro could suck it up and let Sanji look after him until his wounds healed. Hell, he wasn’t going to give him a choice.

It was as close to a satisfying result as Sanji was going to get.

The other Sanji hummed. “Even when you win,” he said again, voice sing-song. “You lose. The Vinsmoke Sanji way.”

-

Sanji was sad. And when Sanji was sad, he usually got angry.

At dinner, Luffy leaned over to ask Zoro, “Why is Sanji mad?”

Zoro shrugged. “He’s just having a hissy fit. Usual cook stuff. Oi, Cook. More boo—”

A bottle came flying out of the kitchen towards Zoro’s head. He caught it and popped it open, ready to take a swig. “Thank—”

Sanji slammed a glass down on the table in front of him. “If you drink straight out of the bottle like a shitty animal, I will murder you in your sleep, fillet you, and serve you to Luffy for breakfast. And you will be fucking delicious.”

Sanji also got creative with his threats when he was angry.

For the first time, Luffy thought about eating a crewmate other than Chopper. Mmm, tasty Zoro…

“For the love of god,” Usopp hissed from the other side of the table, cowering. “Zoro, use the glass.”

“Oh my,” Brook said. “How frightening. I nearly jumped out of my skin! Except I don’t—”

With that, Brook managed to direct Sanji’s rage to himself. Luffy took the opportunity to finish off Brook’s food as the skeleton ran for his life. Zoro drank out of the bottle, likely to prove a point, while Usopp wept in despair.

Zoro had been slower and stiffer moving since he woke up. He still trained, drank, and did Zoro things, but there were more winces and pauses. Chopper said that there wouldn’t be if he just stayed in bed like a good patient, but everyone knew that wasn’t going to happen.

It was Chopper’s job to take care of the crew, so of course he worried, but it was obvious Sanji worried, too, if not moreso. Zoro got special workout snacks and glasses of water delivered to him during his training sessions without needing to ask. Sanji took Zoro’s nightwatches with little more than an excuse that he couldn’t sleep anyway. Sanji didn’t even spar with him or try to start fights that would strain his healing muscles.

Luffy quickly figured out that Sanji’s words and actions were rarely in alignment. Because Sanji’s actions showed a bone deep level of care and worry. By contrast, Sanji’s words were seething.

That night, Brook played them all a song out on the deck, and Zoro left the galley to join them with a bottle of sake in his hands. In between swings of the galley door, they could all hear Sanji scream, “Then fucking die for all I care!”

Zoro didn’t seem bothered and took a seat on the grass to drink in peace. He glanced up at Brook who had paused at Sanji’s outburst. “Why’d you stop playing?”

Brook glanced around the circle of assembled Straw Hats in confusion, and Nami sighed. “Don’t worry about it.”

Most of Sanji and Zoro’s fights were pretty funny. They slang insults at each other back and forth even while standing side-by-side and trusting each other with their lives. The hostility was skin deep, a push and pull that kept both on their toes. So Luffy saw no reason to interfere.

But there was a tension that emerged very rarely, and it was one Luffy didn’t think was as funny. And right now it was in full force.

Zoro cared in his own way. He did. He just wasn’t very good at showing it through actions or words. Which meant he wasn’t very good at showing it at all. Luffy knew that, and he knew Sanji knew that, but he also knew Sanji got anxious in a way that Zoro couldn’t understand.

Sanji was sensitive, and he was also sensitive about being called sensitive, which would make Zoro say, “God, you’re sensitive,” and then they would fight. And all of that meant that sometimes Luffy did need to step in when Zoro didn’t have the presence of mind to.

Sanji had been stewing away in the kitchen nearly all day, as the haze of cigarette smoke attested to. Luffy took a seat at the counter. “You’re mad at Zoro.”

Sanji snorted. “Yeah, and the ocean is wet.”

“Why?”

“Because it has water—”

“No. Zoro.”

Sanji looked at him over his shoulder before returning to the stove. “Because he’s an idiot. Nothing new.”

Luffy puffed out his cheeks. “You’re both keeping secrets.”

“Yeah,” Sanji said with a shrug. “But I promise it’s nothing.”

Luffy didn’t like that answer, but he knew it was just another way that Sanji was looking out for Zoro. So he said, “You care about Zoro a lot, huh?”

“Of course I fucking don’t.”

“Nah, you do.”

Sanji cursed and lit another cigarette.

“Zoro cares about you, too, you know,” Luffy said. “Even if he doesn’t do a very good job most of the time. It’s not his fault. He’s just kind of stupid.”

Sanji laughed. “I agree with part of that.”

“No,” Luffy said. “You should agree with all of it. Because it’s all true.”

Sanji turned to open the fridge. “Sure. What do you want for dinner?”

Sanji was trying to distract him, and it was working.

Dinner was normal, Sanji slammed down less plates than he had been even at lunch a few hours ago. And when Zoro asked for seconds, Sanji told him to serve his own lazy ass while in the kitchen process of doing it for him. Zoro grunted his thanks, same as ever before, during, and now after whatever was floating between them.

Zoro remained Zoro, as unmoved as ever. Content when alone, content when independent, ready to make whatever decision he needed to without a second thought. It all came easy to him, and Luffy was starting to figure out that nothing came naturally to Sanji. Every move was a fight on two fronts, one against the world, the other against whatever mean things his brain was always saying to him. Sometimes Zoro happened to echo those things by chance, and that’s when Sanji got really, really sad, which meant he got really, really mad.

Of course, Sanji would never say a word, so Luffy had to guess. But he was a really good guesser.

Everyone in the crew needed each other, but Sanji needed them the most. He never said it, so Luffy decided to make sure he would never need to ask. He’d only force him if there was no other way to get Sanji to think of himself first.

-

When they reunited after two years, Luffy was amazed at how everyone was still themselves but moreso, somehow. Zoro was stronger, Franky was more of a robot, Brook was a rockstar.

And Sanji was definitely Sanji.

He seemed to make friends everywhere he went. The funny marines and the even funnier samurai liked him. The dancer lady from Dressrosa admitted that Sanji had been the one to sway her to their side through compassion and understanding alone. All of the minks, especially Pedro, talked about Sanji like he was their hero, and, of course, Nami seemed unable to rest until every single person on Zou knew that Sanji had sacrificed himself for the good of the crew and was not goofing off with some girl.

Luffy had known Sanji for a long time by that point. And he knew pieces of the hows and whys of the things he did. But it all came together in that rainy field.

Sanji was crying hard, and Luffy sat beside him in the wet, sticky grass. This whole island was weird and gross and kind of horrible, and Sanji had decided to force himself to come to peace with the fact that he might be trapped here forever.

“I’m an idiot,” Sanji mumbled to himself.

“Yeah,” Luffy agreed. “Kind of.”

Sanji brushed some of his tears away with the back of sleeve. “I didn’t even come back here to ask for help. I just wanted to make sure you wouldn’t starve.” He sighed and stared up at the cloud covered sky. Luffy could see the exhaustion in every part of his face. “You know, my brilliant shitty plan was just to say ‘fuck it’ and die at the wedding. Still think maybe I should.”

Luffy raised a fist. “Don’t make me hit you again. Because I will.”

“I know,” Sanji said. “And I deserve it.”

Luffy frowned, and instead of punching Sanji, he placed a hand on his head. “You get confused a lot, huh?”

Sanji turned to him. “What?”

“I think it’s ‘cause you’re looking at yourself wrong.” Luffy flicked his forehead. “So then you don’t understand other stuff.”

Sanji rubbed his forehead. “Am I being insulted right now? I can’t actually tell.”

Luffy laughed. “That’s what I mean. You start with the wrong idea, so you don’t understand anything.”

“You don’t get to call me stupid,” Sanji said, but there was no bite to his words. All the fight had been drained out of him long ago since stepping foot on this island.

“Yeah,” Luffy said, and he took his hat off and placed it on Sanji’s head. “I do. ‘Cause you don’t understand anything about the real Sanji.”

Sanji was at a loss for words and gently touched the brim of Luffy’s hat as if it might vanish. “The real Sanji,” Luffy said, “Is strong because he’s kind and forgiving and loves people a lot, even when they don’t deserve it. So I don’t know why you keep trying to be this fake Sanji who doesn’t care about those things. Nobody wants that.”

Sanji started crying again, and Luffy sat with him, ready to wait as long as he needed to for the storm to pass.

Luffy leaned against him, resting his head on Sanji’s shoulder. “You know I’m right, right?”

Sanji nodded his head, and Luffy couldn’t quite tell if it was a yes or a no, so he wrapped an arm around his shaking shoulders. “You’ll figure it out.” And until Sanji could figure out that the person Sanji still needed to be kind to was himself, Luffy would do it for him.