He found himself admiring the sea, holding an ash tray in one hand and quietly smoking with the other. He had gone out with the intention of going back to the kitchen as usual, but on this day, he found himself drawn out towards the deep blue. The ship was remarkably quiet. It was such a rare and peaceful time, and the romantic within him couldn't help but wax poetic about the sky melding with the water and shit like that and for once, he felt charitable enough to listen. It would be okay for him to stay here, just for a while, meditate, smoke, mentally prepare himself for something he had been meaning to do.

Usopp flung himself beside him and hung over the railing as noisily as anybody possibly could, squinting up at Sanji's mouth. "Did Chopper really give you the okay to smoke?"

"More like reluctantly admitted that I'm not a patient anymore so I can make my own shitty decisions on how to fuck up my body like a real adult."

"Okay, but do you really have to smoke three at once?"

Sanji broke eye contact with the sea just so he could give Usopp his most condescendingly pitying look. "I got a backlog to keep up. Haven't gotten a smoke in nine months. That's like fucking...two hundred-seventy days. Per seventeen cigarettes each day, that's...four thousand, five hundred and ninety smokes I completely missed out on. Do you get what I'm saying?"

"I don't want to get what you're saying."

"I've suffered a lack of four thousand, five hundred and ninety smokes and I'm feeling it. In my soul." Sanji pounded a fist around where his soul would probably be, apparently right over the sternum. "It's crying out, Usopp. It's crying out for the things it missed. I gotta do it. I gotta smoke nine months worth of cigs."

Despite his heartfelt speech, Usopp didn't look particularly impressed. "Sanji, you're literally going to die."

"Whatever."

"Well, I guess if you're smoking again, that means Chopper's check-up went good." Ah, there it was. The topic that most everybody was going to pester him about. Usopp's eyes scanned Sanji's impassive face. "It...did, right?"

Sanji had gotten up earlier than usual to pace about the infirmary, clenching and unclenching his hands, staring firmly at the floorboards because he had a feeling that he already knew what was coming. And so when Chopper finally came around, he found the cook jittering his leg and chewing shitty gum just so that he wouldn't grind his teeth to dust.

Chopper's hooves gently prodded at his hands, going over them with sympathy and dexterity. Any questions he asked were answered with a clipped, resigned tone, and the sort of questions Chopper asked told him everything he needed to know. So when the doctor poked and prodded and asked the same questions over and over with increasing desperation, Sanji finally just leaned back and told him that it was fine. There were some things you had to give up.

And Chopper cried, fat tears dribbling down and sticking to his fur in wet clumps, and he didn't know why this would happen, it was just supposed to be a simple matter of healing, maybe the burn was more severe than he thought, maybe it had done lasting trauma to his nerves, he didn't understand how, it was only supposed to be a second degree burn, but there was no way it would just not heal, how could this be,

Sanji just laid his right hand on top of Chopper's hat and asked if there was hope for this one.

Maybe. It had recovered some tactile functions already, he could feel pressure at least, maybe not texture or temperature or, or, pain or anything, just a dull presence, but if his nerves had recovered partly then maybe they would recover all the way, but the other one, the other one...

Sometimes, a doctor has to encounter people that he can't save. He could try as hard as he could, as best as he could, but sometimes, they die anyways. Not because the doctor was bad. But because the world had no karma, no concept of tragedy or morality, because sometimes the world liked to seek out doctors with courage and remind them that death had been winning for far longer than they have, remind them of their burdens of responsibility, break them down and leave them to gather the pieces. But it's not their fault.

And then he asked Chopper not to tell anyone.

Sanji looked down the long nose that pointed at him, down into the questioning eyes of Usopp. He could have said, "I'm fine." That's what he usually did.

He could have broken down into tears and held Usopp's hand in his own, just feeling his presence because his presence was all that he would feel. That's what he had expected to do.

But because he didn't actually feel the tears brimming inside, because he didn't feel mournful, because he felt like the time for pitying himself had passed him by months ago, he said, "It's okay if I tell you later, right?"

Usopp's mouth tightened at the somber tone and he nodded grimly. Sanji smiled back and then rested his hand on top of Usopp's anyways, because he was happy to even be able to feel his presence in the first place. Just that much was something to celebrate.

The two stood in silence for a few minutes. Sanji flicked the ashes off of all three of his cigarettes and grimaced.

"I gotta admit. These things taste awful."

Usopp erupted into laughter, something that always seemed to come easy for him. "You just notice now?"

"Shut up," Sanji grumbled back, starting to fish through his pockets. "I think Chopper's fucking sweet tooth rubbed off on me...damn shithead."

Sanji deftly unwrapped a lollipop, stuck the wrapper in the ashtray, and somehow found enough room in his mouth to pop it in. He saw Usopp's incredulous stare out of the corner of his eye. "What?"

"One day you're going to swallow a cigarette. Chopper will have to do surgery just to get your stupid cigarettes out of your stupid stomach. And nobody will be surprised."

They maintained eye contact for a few seconds before Sanji pulled away and gave an easy shrug. "Wouldn't be the first time."

"Oh my god. Oh my god. Do you even think about the life choices you make."

"Thought about it a little. Decided I was right. Go off and do whatever the hell you do, alright?"

Usopp opened his mouth, thought better, and playfully shoved Sanji's head instead. "C'mon. I'm still cooking with you, right? We gotta do lunch."

"Geez, Chopper already said I'm done healing, I don't need help anymore," Sanji said, trying to make sure it didn't sound hurtful. He rolled his eyes and tapped Usopp straight in the goggles. "You already got three fucking jobs, you're like the sharpshooter, the gardener, and then sometimes the engineer or something? What the shit! Are you trying to steal my job too, asshole?"

"Fine, fine," Usopp placated, already backing off. "I get it, I was just offering help!"

"Well, fuck off. I'm planning a nice surprise for everybody at lunch and that means everybody. Ask again later, shithead."

It was about as polite an invitation that Usopp was going to get, so the sharpshooter shrugged and strolled away, hands in his pockets. Sanji blew threatening smoke rings at his back until he finally disappeared below deck, leaving the ship tranquil once more, with the sound of waves slapping against its sides being its only friend.

Sanji lingered at the seascape for a few more seconds before stubbing out his cigarettes and plodding towards the figurehead of the Thousand Sunny. There, he found what he knew he would always find. The lion's head was the captain's uncontested perch. And it was the only place where he was relatively quiet.

"Hey," he said, softly, like he didn't want to surprise the kid into the ocean, but Luffy didn't look surprised to see him in the first place. Only turned his head enough to catch Sanji's figure in his peripheral vision. Sanji couldn't see his face, only the hints of an eye behind wild strands of black hair. It was such a solemn look that he wondered if he should have tried wearing something fancier than a pastel camisole and pink whale pajama bottoms. He took in a breath.

"I was wrong. And a real piece of shit. I want you to know that I know that now. Will you forgive me?"

Luffy didn't move. His answer was as hushed as Sanji's voice, acknowledging that he knew well enough that this conversation was much too private for his usual, brash tone. Nobody would hear them talk unless they intentionally eavesdropped. And the people on this ship were mostly smart enough to not do that. "Are you gonna cook me all the meat in the world?"

"I can't."

"Then I won't." Said unhesitatingly. The absolute, final verdict. No chance of a retrial. "But you're not gonna do it again, right?"

He could feel his scarred hand, or rather, he couldn't. The red, mottled skin burned into his eyes. "No."

Luffy nodded absently, turning to face ahead again. The clouds were light, a cheerful foam of whipped cream on the top of the world. "Good. Then we're cool. So, Sanji..."

The cook stiffened, only to find himself putting on his usual face of irritation as Luffy leaned over backwards with a whine in his voice. "When's luuuuuuunch? I'm hungry!"

Sanji couldn't tell what cracked in his mouth, but it was either the lollipop or a tooth. "You shitty piece of walking vacuum, it'll be done when it's done! Christ, you never fucking give me a break, why don't you just eat the entire goddamn sea!"

But before he stomped his way back to the kitchen, he shouted back, "I'm making something special for lunch! Look forward to it!"

Luffy beamed at him like he was the most important fucking person in the damn world, his smile lighting the horizon like a sunrise, and Sanji turned, shot one straight back. Smiled so much it hurt. And he slipped his scarred hand out of his pocket and raised two fingers to his head in a modest salute.