TW: child abuse, imprisonment

(1)

It was dark, and he was scared. Sanji paced back and forth in front of the cell's bars, hands clasped in front of his chest. He didn't like it in here. Above, he could hear the sound of footsteps smacking the floor, hard enough to send puffs of dust raining down, sometimes directly onto him. He could even hear voices, though the words were too muffled to make out. If he could hear them, then surely the reverse should be true, shouldn't it? So, why hadn't they let him out yet? He'd been calling for help for hours, and he was really scared.

Eyes puddling with tears, he rubbed the snot dripping from his nose on the bottom of his shirt. He'd make sure father fired those soldiers when he came for him! They were trying to kill him!

Another sniff and he paused, the parting words of his captors playing through his mind, 'We are all working under the direct orders of the king himself,'

They were lying. They had to be! His father wouldn't—

He wouldn't do that! Never!

An image of his father flickered before him, fist clenched as though to strike him, lips pulled into a disgusted sneer. Like Sanji was the filthiest thing he'd laid eyes on. Like he didn't care for him at all.

No, that was wrong! His father did care! He'd never hit him! Not once! Surely his father would notice he was gone and come save him!

'Why should I?'

Sanji flinched.

'It's clear as day that you'll be useless as a warrior in the future. I have no obligation to help you, and I see no worth in raising you either!'

Teeth digging into his bottom lip, he scampered back to the bars, clutching them in a white-knuckled grip. No! He'd help him! He would!

"Father!"

(2)

So dark. So, so dark. He couldn't tell if his eyes were open anymore. During the day, he'd be given a sliver of light from the crack beneath the door. It would reflect off the stone walls, turning the pitch black into a lighter gray. In the beginning, even that hadn't been enough to settle his racing heart, now he wanted it more than anything. When the lights above went out, the cell would be engulfed in an ocean of black. Cold, thick, suffocating.

Had he gone blind? Was he lying down? Where were his hands? He couldn't tell, he couldn't—

A choked sob escaped his throat, and Sanji curled in on himself, hugging his knees to his chest. Was he sitting up? On his side? Where was he again? The cot? The floor? He couldn't remember.

He wanted his mother.

(3)

The iron mask was itchy, and he hated it. It'd been somewhat uncomfortable the first few weeks, scratchy, tight, unbearably icy to the touch. After almost a year trapped in it, he'd have thought he'd be used to it, but it'd only gotten worse. It was so heavy, even moving small distances would make the veins in his neck thrum. It was always there, a pressure that shouldn't be there, and it was wrong, and stifling, and humiliating, and he wanted it off. He felt like a caged animal. He was beginning to wonder if he was.

(4)

Everything hurt. A warm bead of blood escaped his nose, pooling at the place mask covered his lips. He didn't have the energy to wipe it away. His arms thrummed, bones creaking in protest at every movement no matter how small, muscles sore and tired from his poor attempts at defending himself. He barely reacted, and the nausea that had used to surface after every 'visit' had long since dissipated. He should move to the cot. If he waited any longer, he'd likely pass out on the floor again, and the last time he'd done that hadn't been a pleasant experience. He couldn't bring himself to move.

Was this all there was to life? Nothing but bruised skin and a tight feeling in his chest? Maybe he should just...

No. No, he wanted to live. Wanted to live so badly it hurt far worse than his broken bones. Forcing himself up on shaky legs, he stumbled to the cot he still didn't consider his.

(5)

It took three years for the bastard to realize Sanji wasn't going to die. Sanji had long since stopped referring to that man as his parent, instead, dubbing him 'the bastard.' A fitting title really. He'd thrown Sanji in here because he was too spineless to kill him himself, hoping instead Sanji would end his own life, or at the very least, those fuckers he called brothers would. Oh, and they'd tried.

Tried time and time again, but Sanji was tough, always had been. He could take their punches and kicks, could take the knives and bats, the time Niji had actually brought a gun—he could survive all of that and still go down screaming insults at them. He wasn't the scared child he used to be.

No, now he was pissed. Sanji was convinced he was living out of sheer spite at this point. The bastard wanted him dead? Well, he'd just have to live as long as humanly possible.

Brother's wanted to kill him? Screw them, he'd survive every single encounter, curling into a ball if need be or stuffing books in his shirt to muffle the kicks. They were too dumb to notice anyways.

Reiju wanted to pretend to help him? He'd take a lesson from his 'beloved' sister and pretend too. Pretend she didn't exist. One of his few sources of social interaction be damned. The guards made for far better company in comparison, even if they only occasionally grunted and brought him whatever object he'd requested.

He'd been down here long enough to have read every single book in the Kingdom from cover to cover, eyes having adjusted to the gloom long ago, so when the bastard finally showed up with an offer, he wasn't complaining.

Sanji was to obey every single command, to carry out any mission given, and in return, he'd be let out. Oh, and of course, Sanji was never, under any circumstance, to identify as his offspring. Sanji did his best to relay his hatred for the bastard with his glare alone while he acted like the tiny kernel of hope he'd had left hadn't been mercilessly stomped on.

He'd accepted, however. Anything had to be better than this hellhole, plus, the mask he'd never quite been able to adjust to was finally pried off. It was weird at first, his head so freakishly light, he'd actually had trouble walking for awhile, something his brothers made sure to point out just to be pricks. They'd also made sure to harass him on account of how pale he was and how his eyes still couldn't handle prolonged exposure to light. When the insults got too grating, Sanji had simply stared at the scar stretching from Yonji's cheekbone to his jaw, reminding himself of when he'd landed that blow a year back using a steak knife he'd stashed in his sleeve. Fucker had teared up and everything, it had been great. He'd felt a little guilty at first, but any remorse he'd had was completely and irreversibly snuffed out when the bastard ordered all his cooking utensils to be tossed out. He didn't regret it now, especially whenever he caught Yonji glowering at him darkly.

The weeks he'd remained in Germa were spent in the hospital with a handful of nurses he was certain would be hushed after his departure. A part of him yearned to warn them, to try and protect them, but the stronger one, the one that screamed 'don't get thrown back in there' kept him silent. Besides, he doubted the bastard would have them killed or anything. That would be too much, even for him. The nurses were nice, after all. One even had the heart to storm out of the room in tears after seeing the scars on his back, some jagged, some spelling words, his favorite being the 'dud' over his right shoulder blade.

He'd found her reaction extremely endearing, especially since she was adorable to boot. Because of that, he was almost disappointed his stay wasn't long. It had been a given, really. After all, he'd taken good care of himself over the years, exercising, cooking meals to make up for whatever nutrition he wasn't getting naturally down there (until the bastard took his tools); he wouldn't even have to stay if not for the injuries that had accumulated over time.

They kept him until every single fracture had healed, no matter how small. May have been longer if the bastard himself hadn't deened to visit, giving Sanji a stack of papers, a tiny Den Den Mushi, and a suicide mission. He'd expected nothing less.

(6)

Sanji couldn't get out of Germa fast enough. As he watched that hell vanish on the horizon, he kept his fingers locked around his hood, refusing to let a breeze blow it off or something. Didn't want to risk being found out and thrown in that cell again. That'd been one of the 'conditions' his freedom had come with. Don't be recognized.

He'd wanted to laugh. If the bastard had his way, Sanji would be dead within the week, and he still refused to acknowledge his existence in any way before then. He shouldn't be surprised.

Drawing in the air, damp, salty, he finally backed away from the railing, eyeing the Germa 66 smeared across the sails like a bloodstain. Really, he couldn't wait to be dumped on some random island. If he had his way, he'd never have to ride on one of these tasteless ships again.

(7)

They ended up ditching him in Water Seven. He had no idea when the Vinsmokes crossed the Red Line, let alone how long they'd been there, but no matter. He wasted no time, purchasing a mask off a street vendor with the small sum of Berry the bastard had so graciously bestowed him with, along with a cloak and something to eat. Spent the rest of the afternoon sightseeing. The women were gorgeous, the fountain-like structure was more amazing in person than it'd been in that book, and the Yagara were like nothing he'd ever seen before. He made sure to give his a dango as thanks.

All in all, it was a nice town, if he ignored the weird streaker. Then again, considering he only had that hell and years of darkness to compare it to, anywhere would seem nice. The desert would seem nice.

Plus, no one suspected an eleven-year-old to be planning a slaughter and had been accommodating enough to freak him out. The hotel clerk had even handed him his room key rather than throwing it at him. What was up with that?

After he was securely locked in his room, he flipped through the file once more. Something about off'ing an opposing army that'd been gaining decent standing over the years. An entire army. By himself. He knew the bastard wanted him dead but wasn't that a bit overkill?

Releasing a puff of air, he set the file down and stared out the window. Screw it. He'd think of something.

(8)

He'd left soon after, and by the time he'd arrived at the shores of New Plaza, he was absolutely certain he was good as dead. He entertained the idea of just running, of ditching his Den Den Mushi along with the stupid file and getting a job at a restaurant or something. But, if he did that, the bastard would win, damn it. Sanji wasn't going to give him the satisfaction. He wouldn't run, nor would he die.

He would do this.

(9)

He'd ended up doing as follows: piss off another bastard and have them do his dirty work. As he'd soon discovered, the island possessed not one militia, but two. The opposing forces had been in somewhat of a cold war for longer than Sanji had been imprisoned, so it was easy to set them off. Fire off a couple shots, kill some dumbass, leave enough incriminating evidence behind, then flee the island when the sound of explosions and gunfire started. The fuckers had wiped each other out before the week was over, though he'd made a special trip back to make absolutely certain that was the case.

Turned out there was a survivor. A girl around his age. After holding her at gunpoint for a solid three minutes, he'd opted to let her leave. Not like she could cause much trouble anyways, not on her own like this.

She'd vowed to kill him one day. He'd grinned and pretended not to cringe inside. It wasn't a big deal, right? They were all gonna die at one point or the other regardless, all he'd done was speed it up a bit. Yeah. Not a big deal.

Despite that, he jerked awake in a cold sweat that night. And the night after.

(10)

Years went by like that. He'd finish a job that by all means should've killed him, only to have another thrust onto him. He'd accept it each time without fail. In his mind, it was a challenge, an order to die, and honestly, after everything he'd been through, disobeying and angering the bastard was like a drug to him. He got addicted to it fast, never surrendering no matter how many close calls came, no matter how many scars were added to the collection. No matter how many times he'd stare longingly into a restaurant. No matter how many times he thought of All Blue.

As always when that paradise came up, he told himself it was a myth. Pretended he hadn't been keeping a half-hearted eye out for it all this time. Just a myth and people who died chasing myths were foolish.

He pondered this over a glass of rum, listening absently to the stories of some geezer in a bar that was closing down. Apparently, this had been the Pirate Kings favorite place to unwind before he conquered the Grand Line and basically flipped the entire world on its collective ass.

"I'm going to the Grand Line," The straw-hatted kid said, tone serious despite his feet kicking back and forth in front of him.

He'd been in here when Sanji arrived and had yet to show any signs of leaving, more interested in the stories. Sanji hadn't paid him much attention, calmly waiting for his turn with the barkeep. He'd learned years ago the best way to gather information was to start in places like this. Especially when that information involved the less... pleasant parts of a town.

"He was cool, huh?" He went on, "Gold Roger."

Sanji blinked, craning his neck to watch the kid over his shoulder. He'd lowered his head, the brim of his hat overshadowing his face until only his smirk was visible. "Pirate's should try to be like him. That's why I went out to sea... to go to the Grand Line and find One Piece." A pause, then he raised his chin, showing an expression filled with such unwavering confidence, Sanji merely stared. "I'm gonna be the Pirate King!"

"Wha—?" Sanji had spluttered before he could stop himself, and he wasn't alone either, given the shell-shocked look on the barkeep's face.

"That's a crazy thing to say!" The barkeep choked out, "How could you say that here in this place?"

"What?" The kid actually had the gall to sound puzzled, "But I'm just telling the truth."

Again, Sanji couldn't believe what he was hearing. Kid wasn't boasting, wasn't trying to prove himself or impress them—he truly believed this load of crap. What in the hell?

The barkeep apparently took something Sanji hadn't from those words, bursting into a gargled fit of laughter. "Kid, after having a customer like you, I feel like closing the shop a little later."

He went on to spew some other crap about toasting, pouring them both cups of milk.

"Toast with me, to the eternal Pirate King."

"To the eternal Pirate King!"

After they'd finished that particular... weird whatever that'd been, Sanji watched the kid skip out of the bar, trying to ignore the chord he'd struck. Sanji had given up on chasing dreams a long time ago, and he sure as hell wasn't going to change his mind because of some naive moron. Still, the kid hadn't seemed naive. There'd been comprehension in those eyes.

Sanji shook the thought off just as fast. He'd imagined it. That was all.

"So," The barkeep said, voice low, dangerous. "What does your sort want here, Vinsmoke?"

Sanji's thumb twitched against his cup. "Nothing much, just seeing the sights."

The barkeep's gaze was unrelenting.

See? Old bastard knew all sorts of shit.

"I hear the Revolutionary Army has been busy these days."

The geezer wasn't much of a liar, apparently, skin losing several shades of color. "What do you know about that, upstart?"

"Not as much as I'd like," He admitted, shuffling through his pocket until he'd retrieved a cigarette. He let the barkeep stew as he lit it, going as far as to blow out a slow breath of smoke. "I hear the Revolutionary leader himself is in town today."

If the man had seemed nervous before, now he looked on the brink of a heart attack. "Get out."

"So it's true then? You wouldn't happen to know—"

"Out!"

The geezer slammed his palms against the bar, causing the ice cubes in his glass to clink together. Sanji gave him a thoroughly unimpressed stare as the geezer proceeded to grab his drink and dump it.

"Oi, I paid for that you know."

The barkeep opened his mouth, likely to tell him off, when the tarp marking the doorway was shoved open. Judging by the signature cigars clenched between the visitors teeth, must've been Smoker, the marine in charge of this area.

"So it's you, huh?" The barkeep spat without an ounce of care.

Sanji respected that.

"The usual greeting, huh?" Smoker said, calm gaze shifting to Sanji. "Am I interrupting something?"

Sanji paused a beat, then released a sigh, sliding out of the barstool and making his way to the exit. "Actually, I was just leaving."

No use sticking around with that massive migraine in the room. He'd gotten what he'd wanted anyways. Confirmation. Rumors had been correct, Monkey D. Dragon was in town. Now, Sanji just had to figure out how to kill him.

(11)

It'd started several months back with an actual visit from Ichiji. First time he'd seen any of his brothers since leaving seven years ago, and it'd still been too soon. They'd grabbed a drink at a local pub while Sanji pretended not to be losing his shit inside, and Ichiji had filled him in. Apparently, the bastard had realized his new tactic at killing Sanji wasn't going to work either. So, he'd upped the ante, giving him the mother of suicide missions. Kill the most wanted man alive, his second-in-command, and wipe the army off the faces of the planet. The bastard apparently didn't like the 'ripples' Dragon was causing, nor the competition. Damn warmonger.

Ichiji had gauged his reaction with a smirk that could've meant literally anything, then he'd downed the rest of his whiskey and slid to his feet.

'Guess this is the last time we'll be speaking, huh, Sanji? Can't say I care.'

Fucker. Looked like a total tool with those sunglasses on too.

He'd stewed in silent misery the rest of the night, downing every single mug the bartender had smacked in front of him until he'd set some kind of record and been given the rest for free alongside the entire bar. Sanji earnestly hadn't given a shit at that point.

As the sounds of partying filled his ears, the idea of running danced through his mind, changing his name, buying a restaurant somewhere in the... East Blue? West Blue? Somewhere not cold.

He'd do his mother proud by mastering the culinary arts, would fall in love by the age of twenty-two and at that part, his daydream would shift into a sappy fairytale romance where the prince saved the princess, and they lived happily-ever-after.

The thoughts were fleeting as tiny candies, however. Sweet on the tongue for a good minute or so, but never lasting long, leaving him more aware of the bitter taste in his mouth and the empty pit in his stomach.

Dreams weren't the only thing Sanji had given up on.

Freedom was something he'd lost sight of after a year in that cell.

(12)

In Loguetown, Sanji moved through the streets like a cat on the hunt, steps silent, shoulders tensed and ready to strike at any second. He wasn't going to survive this one, he knew. It didn't matter. If he gave up, he'd lose, and Sanji had been playing the game so long, the thought of that was unbearable. He would die, but he would take Dragon down with him. Then the bastard would have to admit Sanji wasn't a dud. He was worth something, dammit!

Yet, his feet slowed at the docks, eyes flittering to the sail of a pirate ship, one marked with a skull and bones wearing a straw hat. Reminded him of earlier, of the strange kid announcing his dream with such boldness, for a second, Sanji had actually believed he could do it. That years from now, he'd be reading about a straw-hatted kid taking the Grand Line by storm and finding One Piece.

Shaking the thought off, he continued walking.

(13)

When he finally found Dragon, the guy was in the middle of a fight of his own, hand clutching the end of a jutte belonging to none other than Smoker. How in the hell had that happened? He was so frazzled by it, he didn't notice the figure beneath the Marine, nor the wind gaining speed, tugging at his hair and sending his tie into a frenzy. Swallowing the lump rising in his throat, he reached for the knife holstered inside his tux, forcing a foot to edge him away from the safety of a wall. He would do this. Even the legendary Dragon couldn't survive a knife to the head, and just in case, Sanji had coated this particular one with a poison taken from the skin of a Stonefish. After being injected, only Sanji's 'beloved' sister would be capable of saving Dragon.

The Revolutionary would have enough time to send Sanji to the afterlife before he followed, but as long as his task was somewhat complete, Sanji didn't mind.

With a nod, he quickened his stride, confidence building. He wouldn't die in vai—

His brain abruptly shut off as an impossibly powerful gust of wind smacked into him, sending him careening through the air as though he'd been caught in an underwater current. His mind was a jumble of 'what the hells' and 'holy shits' for a good minute until he faceplanted into a concrete surface, ears ringing painfully. He barely had enough time to stammer out a combination of his two thoughts before an arm slammed across his back (he was pretty sure it was an arm) and he was, once more, sent flying.

He blacked out.

When he came too, it was to the feel of rain pelting his face, panicked voices shouting over a roaring wind, and a severe ache all over. Shoving himself upright, he raised a hand to his pounding nose, palm returning dotted with blood. Shit. Hoped it wasn't broken.

For a brief second, he found himself actually thankful for the rain since it hid the fact his eyes were watering. Getting hit in the nose, along with being kicked in the groin was a pain impossible to adjust to no matter how strong-willed the person. Fuck.

"Get the sails ready," Someone—a woman from the sound of it—shouted, "Veer to the left—NO!" Her angry yell morphed into a petrified shriek fast enough to give him whiplash, "Why would you move us towards the wave, are you completely braindead!?"

On cue, said wave smashed into the side of the ship, sending Sanji rolling until he'd collided with the railing, soaked, and more than a little startled.

"Ack! I think I've caught a this-is-too-scary-I-need-to-lay-down disease!"

An obnoxious laugh, "You're so funny Usopp!"

"Shut up Luffy! And quit standing around talking—the both of you—before I boot you off the ship, damn it!"

"Aye!" The two guys yelped in sync, followed by a patter of footsteps.

Sanji had no idea what the hell was happening, but unless he wanted to be shipwrecked, he'd better start helping. Lunging forward, he grabbed the rope connected to the sail and tugged for all he was worth.

"Move it starboard!"

"Got it!"

"There's a whirlpool forming at six o' clock!"

"Oh shi—!"

"Shit, we're taking on water, someone grab a bucket, damn it!"

"Yes, ma'am!"

"Another wave incoming!"

By the time the weather had settled down, they all lay collapsed on the deck, drenched and exhausted. Sanji had never been this worn out before, and that said a lot considering he spent most of his time wading through wars. The hell had just happened?

When he'd finally gathered enough of his bearings to sit up and light a cigarette, he was greeted with a sight that almost had him crashing on his face again. It was that kid! The one from the bar!

He was standing several feet away, arms crossed and head thrown back in laughter. Two men were on either side of him, a green-haired muscle-head and some scrawny guy who looked like a liar.

He lost interest monumentally fast, however, when he laid eyes on the most gorgeous woman he'd seen in his entire life. Short ginger hair, curvy sides, and a beautiful smile—okay, maybe she was glaring like she wanted to rip someone's head off, but no matter. A queen, a fairy.

As she proceeded to make strangling motions at the straw-hatted kid, Sanji pushed himself to his feet, dusted off his pants, then moved to her, clasping her hands in his own.

"Oh, my love, it must be fate that I've met you today in my darkest hour! If only destiny weren't so cruel, I'd be content to run away with you anywhere you may wish!"

Deafening silence.

Then in sync, everyone minus him yelled, "WHO THE HELL ARE YOU!?"

"Ah. Shit."

Reluctantly, Sanji released the babe's silky hands and stepped away. "I'm Sanji, can't say I'm as happy to meet you shitheads."

"H-Hey, you're not with those guys that tried to burn the Merry earlier are you!?" The liar-guy yelled while the straw-hatted kid recoiled, jaw dropping.

"What!? Someone tried to burn Merry!?"

Burn the Merry? The hell was he on about?

A blade was shoved not so politely against his throat, the musclehead scowling at him darkly, "Well? You better get to talking curly-brow. Before my blade slips."

Curly-brow? Eye twitching in annoyance, Sanji looked at the sword, then at the sail, where low and behold, the Jolly Roger he'd seen earlier bore down on them. Just great. As if his day couldn't get any shittier.

"No clue," He answered, blowing a mouthful of smoke into musclehead's face.

The spluttering coughs musclehead gave, along with the murderous tick that followed brought a rare grin to Sanji's face. Take that, bastard.

"I have no interest in burning your shitty ship."

"'S-Shitty!?'" The liar-guy echoed fearful gaze making room for anger. "Hey, the Merry isn't shitty, you bastard, take that back!"

Sanji glared at him, and liar-guy dove behind the straw-hat kid.

"As for who I am, we met earlier, didn't we?" At the kid's baffled frown, he added, "In that bar."

A blink, two, then the kid tipped his head to the side, "Don't remember."

"You already forgot!?" Sanji snapped before he could stop himself. Then, with a drag from his cigarette to compose himself, he said, "As for why I'm here, your guess is as good as mine. One second I was—" About to kill the most dangerous man alive and in turn, die as well, "—walking through town, the next, I was hit by some gust of wind." A pause. "Then something else. Felt like an arm."

To his surprise, the glares that'd been searing into him moments ago were redirected to that kid. The kid actually started laughing sheepishly—the hell?

"Luffy," The love of his life spoke, tone icy cold, "Explain."

"Sorry, sorry! I didn't notice!"

"Wait," Sanji cut in, mind working a hundred miles-per-hour, "It was your shitty arm that hit me!?"

A snort and the musclehead finally sheathed his sword. "Just figuring that out?"

"What!?" His glare shifted to musclehead for a fraction of a second before refocusing on the kid at full blast. "How the hell is that possible!?"

Kid stared, grinned, then stretched his cheek all the way to his shoulder. "I ate the gum-gum fruit, so I'm a rubber man now!"

Sanji's mouth fell open, cigarette bouncing off his left shoe then rolling across the deck. "'A rubber man?'"

Immediately, the assassin in him crossed out guns and blunt force attacks as a method for killing him. Knives were more Sanji's style anyways.

"Hey, hey, put that out, are you trying to start a fire!?" The liar yelled at him.

Mechanically, Sanji collected his cigarette and flicked it overboard. "Right. Sorry."

"Guess we're stuck with you for the time being." The love of his life sighed.

Musclehead rolled his eyes, "I say we throw him overboard and let him swim back."

"You—" Sanji started, but his love beat him to it, leaving a sizable lump on musclehead's skull.

"Not happening!"

Sanji gaped dumbly. She stood up for him? Did that mean... No, it couldn't possibly.. Or maybe... She returned his feelings, after all!?

While Sanji dissolved into a fit of hearts, his love continued to scan the sky with an adorable frown.

"Hey, the weather's gotten pretty nice guys!" The liar remarked brightly, and while Sanji was inclined to agree, the nagging sense he was forgetting something surfaced.

"Look! It's not even raining over there at all!"

Oh.

Well, Sanji thought. Shit.

(14)

This arrangement wasn't too shabby, he decided. The liar—who he now knew as Usopp—was pretty okay after getting to know him, and Nami was the cutest thing he'd ever seen, so there was that. Though he was convinced Luffy was a suicidal moron and earnestly surprised he was this crew's captain, he could look passed it for the moment. Only problem was Zoro, who 'just happened' to end up in every single room Sanji went into. Talk about annoying. If Sanji had wanted to kill them, he'd have done it already, or, at least, set someone else up to do it. He rarely worked in a direct fashion if it could be avoided.

After missing his mark at Loguetown, he had no idea where the Revolutionary was headed next, and honestly, it'd been a miracle he'd discovered the man's whereabouts to begin with. That left him at a crossroad.

Seeing as this crew had no intentions to make any pit stops for him, he could sail over Reverse mountain then hitch another ride back and investigate Loguetown for any information left behind. Or, seeing as Dragon most likely intended to enter the Grand Line anyways, he could stick around with these moron's until the next town and see where to go from there. He was leaning towards the latter. It would be the smartest option. Less hectic, as well.

Not that the view wasn't worth the trip. He smiled down at the ocean stretching for miles and miles beneath the mountain. A pale gray, almost hidden behind the clouds surrounding them like a veil of mist. The All Blue was probably somewhere out there. His smile vanished. No, it wasn't. All blue was a myth. Simple.

Even if it wasn't...

The ship shot forward with the speed of a cannonball, and Sanji's thoughts ended there.

(15)

Sanji would never admit this to anyone in any way, but he actually related to a whale. Waiting years and years for someone who would never come, getting angry when he realized they never would, lashing out at everything because it was the only thing he could do, the only thing he'd had.

Sanji understood so well it hurt.

Instead of speak up, he kept his gaze trained on the ground and pretended not to smile after Luffy painted his Jolly Roger on the whale's forehead, promising to one day return.

(16)

Sanji liked Luffy. Which surprised him, because he rarely warmed up to anyone. Not like this. Luffy's presence was like a patch of sunlight, didn't really notice it at first, but it was warm and comforting all the same. Kid couldn't lie worth a damn, couldn't sit still to save his life, and grinned so broadly, and stupidly Sanji found himself smiling back.

It was dumb. It was safe. He'd forgotten what that felt like.

So, when Luffy's stomach released a rather loud grumble and he whined about food, Sanji offered to cook without thinking. He received a myriad of surprised looks for this.

"You can... Cook?" Usopp asked, like the idea of Sanji cooking broke some law of nature.

"Yeah," Sanji replied, not sparing him a glance.

"Well... I don't see any problem with it," Nami said, more tentative. "The Galley doesn't have much to work with at the moment, but there's enough for simple dishes." The corners of her mouth tipped upwards and she held up a hand, index and thumb pressed together in a universal signal. "I can help, of course, but it'll come at the small fee of three hundred Berry!"

"Nah, I don't need help," Sanji answered, already heading for the Galley, "Lunch should be ready in less than an hour."

Of course, his shadow joined shortly after, perching in a chair at the dining table and falling asleep not a minute later. Sanji didn't understand that dumbass. Why was he trying to keep an eye on him if he couldn't stay awake for more than five-second intervals?

Rolling his eyes, he busied himself at the stove, humming as he diced the onions, then scraped them into the pot of boiling water. Several fizzles followed, along with plumes of smoke, and tension he hadn't realized was there dissipated. He'd always felt more relaxed while cooking.

As he'd said, dinner was done forty minutes later. Nothing fancy, just a savory broth, meatloaf, and a small salad on the side. Whoever stocked up on rations clearly knew little about cooking, given everything in storage was either meats or vegetables. No spices, no herbs, and hardly any fruit. He was offended. Before he left, he was going to make sure these morons had the proper essentials for cooking. His pride as a chef would allow nothing less.

He'd brought the meal outside, to where the old man Crocus was explaining how magnetic fields functioned in the Grand Line, while Nami nodded attentively and the others stared dumbly. Zoro sauntered out behind him, carrying two plates—because if the bastard was going to stalk him, he was going to help out, dammit—and grinned proudly at his set table.

Luffy and Usopp were drooling rivers by the time he'd finished, and before he even had a chance to back away, they were digging in like a bunch of animals. He'd have to beat some table manners into them by the next town.

Nami was slower, prodding the meatloaf a bit suspiciously before squinting, shrugging, and taking a bite. A heartbeat passed, two, three, she raised a napkin to wipe off the sauce from her mouth. He swallowed nervously.

"It's delicious." She decided with a small grin that made his heart skip several beats.

"I can die happy!" He shouted off into the distance as a wave crashed against the cliff-face.

"Say," Luffy piped up around a mouthful of food. "Are you a cook?"

Blinking, he glanced at the kid over his shoulder, "Kind of." Was more a hobby than a living.

Luffy grinned, that stupidly wide grin that both flooded him with warmth and made him want to knock him upside the head. "Wanna join my crew?"

The reactions were instantaneous.

Zoro choked, grasping feebly for his throat and hunching over, Usopp spat out his food (something Sanji later throttled him for), Nami nearly fell over, a startled scream escaping, while Luffy continued to stare at him, either unbothered or denser than Sanji had suspected.

Join his crew, huh? The past few hours hadn't been bad, actually, they'd been the best he'd had in awhile. Maybe the best he'd ever had. Considering what a shitstorm his life had been, he wouldn't be surprised.

Images flowed through his mind, the bastard's cold glare, his brother's mocking sneers, memories of pain and darkness. Reflexively, his hand moved to his right elbow, the one that still didn't quite move the same, a familiar rage settling in.

"Can't. Already taken. Sorry."

"Awww!" He whined, "You should join anyways!"

"Can't," Sanji repeated, tone clipped. Leaving no room for argument, he returned his glare to the cliff, ignoring the weird look Nami was giving him and lighting a cigarette. As he watched Laboon shoot a geyser of water into the air, he wondered what whale soup would taste like.

(17)

"C'mon, just join already!"

"No."

(18)

"What, you mean your eyebrows naturally look like that!?"

Sanji stared expressionlessly at his nose until the kid slumped over in defeat.

"...Point."

"Meh. I've seen weirder than your freaky eyebrows, shit-cook."

"Shut up!"

(19)

"What the—are those my clothes!?"

Sanji gave the tasteless shirt and baggy pants he had on an unimpressed once over before returning his eyes to the marimo. "Didn't have anything else, and there's no way in hell I'm wearing overalls."

"Take it off. Now."

Despite the murderous intent etched into the man's features, Sanji snorted and jabbed a thumb at himself. "As flattered as I am, Marimo, I'm a man that was born only to love the ladies!"

He dodged the sword flying for his head and retaliated with a kick.

(20)

"Plea—"

"For the hundredth time, I am not joining your crew."

"...I refuse your refusal."

(21)

"You mean, you've been to the Grand Line before!?"

Sanji blinked owlishly at the trio, "Yeah? Did I forget to mention that? I was only in the East Blue for a short while."

"That's so cool!" Luffy exclaimed with shining eyes, while Nami yelled at him for not warning them of the dangers and Usopp rambled about what an expert explorer 'Captain Usopp' was and how he'd already ventured into every sea known to man, even seas that were uncharted.

Sanji laughed.

(22)

"There's snow everywhere! If only a valiant knight could help clear off the deck..."

"I'll do it!"

(23)

The next town just had to be a nest of bounty hunters, didn't it? Just his fucking luck. Not to mention the sad doe eyes he was getting from the younger members of the crew. He really wanted to leave. Soon as possible.

His 'like' for Luffy had not only spread to the rest of the crew but was beginning to turn into something he wasn't comfortable with, on the terms it was both unfamiliar and inconvenient. He took a step away from the ship, ready to shove his way through the crowd of lying crooks and—holy shit that girl was gorgeous! No! Knock it off, she was tricking him! Mini-skirt! No, stay strong!

Giving his head a fierce shake, he went to take another step, but two iron grips on either wrist stopped him. Resisting the instincts long since beaten into him screaming 'fight', he looked over his shoulder at Luffy and Usopp who were staring at him like they were a word away from bursting into hysterical sobbing.

Sanji's eye twitched. The heck had he done to warrant this kind of reaction? That aside, he sighed, and muttered, "Calm down, I'm not leaving just yet."

Dumbasses, he added silently.

"Really!?" Luffy exclaimed, sounding like he was going to cry anyways.

"You're not!?" Usopp followed suit, every bit as choked up.

The hell!? "No," Sanji bit out, trying his best to hide his confusion behind practicality. "Can't say I'm a fan of this place."

At that, the two actually paused and shot him puzzled frowns.

"Why not? Everyone's really nice!"

"Yeah! They're even throwing us a party!"

"Not sure," He lied, well-aware there were several pairs of attentive ears nearby. "Just not my..." He coughed into his fist. "Kinda place... I guess. Probably."

That was terrible.

"Well," Luffy said, "Okay."

"That's fair," Usopp agreed with a nod.

What!? It worked!? Releasing a puff of smoke to compose himself, he strode forward, Luffy and Usopp at either side. Guess he was getting better at lying.

(24)

Sanji lay on the cold floor, pretending to be asleep as screams and explosions filled the air. Sounded like marimo had everything under control. No sense in getting involved. Wasn't his place anyways.

(25)

Turned out, the lovely Miss Wednesday was Princess Vivi of Alabasta. Apparently, she'd infiltrated Baroque Works for the good of her people or something or other; he hadn't really been listening, more interested in how great she looked with her hair down. That's why, when Usopp had brought it up earlier, raving about how brave she was, and how 'Captain Usopp' would definitely assure she returned home safely, he'd nearly had a heart attack. She was the Princess of Alabasta. This was just his shitty luck.

He still remembered a job he'd taken from an 'independent contractor' when he was sixteen and in desperate need of Berry. Not like the bastard was paying him for his services, he just gave him missions via the transponder he'd been sent away with, and on the rarest of occasions, a file. Sanji had learned real quick if he was going to survive, he had to work for it, taking on part-time jobs and entering contests, preferably all cooking-related. Sometimes, however, that hadn't been enough.

When he was approached by a member of a 'secret organization' offering him an amount of Berry that would last for months, he couldn't refuse. Hunger had a funny way of throwing all morals out the window.

The assignment was to smuggle several bags of dance powder into the royal palace of Alabasta without being spotted, which was a fairly simple task considering he'd spent most his childhood slipping out of a castle to visit his mother. Though, Germa's security was heaps and bounds above Alabasta's. He'd basically waltzed in and out in the span of an hour, unscratched and much, much richer.

Now, seeing the repercussions of what he'd done first-hand, he felt his heart squeeze. Even if he hadn't taken the job, someone else would've done it, but still, this was partly his fault. Vivi was adorable, and he kinda, sorta, maybe liked her on a personal level as well. Just a bit.

Plus, Luffy and the others considered her a friend. If they found out...

Didn't matter. Sanji would bail in Alabasta.

(26)

"You mean, you're not the cook on this ship?" Vivi asked, shooting him a surprised look over the newspaper she'd been scanning.

"No," He said as he flipped a hamburger patty, "I'm just hitching a ride."

She huffed out a laugh, "Kinda like me then."

His lips twitched into a frown, "Yeah. Kinda."

He worked in silence a bit longer, content to let Vivi read in peace. He'd basically ruined her life and screwed her father over, he could give her that much.

"So, Vivi," Nami said, "What's the king like?"

"Huh? My father?" She almost sounded startled, "Well, he's... how do I put it? He's very kind,"

Not something Sanji typically associated with a father.

"Though he can be pretty overprotective at times."

Must be nice.

"It's pretty silly, actually, one time he even followed me around through the city behind a pile of bushes. Bushes! We live in a desert country!" She giggled, and Nami joined in after a moment.

"And, lastly," She went on, resting her chin in an open palm. "He's a good king."

The wind was knocked from his lungs like he'd been punched. A good, peaceful king. In a good, peaceful kingdom. With a good, peaceful princess. And he'd helped ruin it. That settled it.

(27)

"Oi, Luffy,"

"Hm?"

"I wanna stick around until we finish helping Vivi. Sound good, or bad?"

A pause, then a wide grin, "Sounds good."

A/N: This is spaced out a bit differently than usual, but it was easier to write this way. Anyways, I don't doubt for a second Judge would act like this, so far he's been nothing but pig-headed in his rejection of Sanji. That's why I figure he'd probably chock up all of Sanji's victories to luck (which shows how little he knows Sanji because that boy's luck rivals Kaneki Ken's) and still try to find ways to get rid of him. I don't think he'll ever be able to see passed the fact Sanji is human, and knowing Sanji, since Judge has nothing to flaunt over his head in this fic, he'd shove back every chance he got

Anyways, thanks for reading! I only plan to make this fic two chapters long, so I should have the last part out soon!