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chenziee · 1 month

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Your love, endless like the sky above

First of my three pieces for the @opblondebombshells zine!! It turned out absolutely gorgeous and is available for download for free as of today, so check it out! ✨

[ Read on AO3 | Ko-FI | Commissions ]

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As he rummaged through the kitchen cabinets with purpose, Sanji felt a wry smile pulling on his lips. He had never thought he would stand in this kitchen ever again. How many years had it been since he last touched this stove? Thirteen, fourteen years?

It was honestly a marvel this stove even was still here.

They had all this money, all this knowledge, and they couldn’t be bothered to get better and newer kitchen equipment.

Cosette and her team made such elaborate meals for their royal family every day with tools that were probably older than the head chef herself and they still got treated this way. It made Sanji want to kick their sorry asses to hell and back and there again.

Kingdom of Science my ass, he thought, clicking his tongue in annoyance.

“Sanji-sama, please! Let us cook for you, royalty shouldn’t have to—with this rusty, old equipment no less—”

“Nope,” Sanji said, raising one hand to silence the panicking cook. “Thanks for the concern but I’m a first-rate chef, not a prince.”

“But—”

“By the way, is the pantry still in the back?” Sanji asked, cutting the protests off before they could really start.

“Yes, sir.” The cook visibly deflated as he answered and Sanji huffed.

He supposed it was too much to ask for them to drop the formalities entirely. Shaking his head, Sanji thanked the man before making his way to the pantry—a route he could still walk blind, even after all these years. He could almost feel young Sanji’s heart racing in excitement from being allowed to walk in and grab ingredients for the first time.

Still innocent, still not realizing he was about to get himself—and the head chef—punished.

Royalty must not cook!

The angry words echoed in his mind despite no one speaking them, forever ingrained deep within him. He never understood the words, never even thought to adhere to them despite the inevitable backlash. Despite the hate and disgust and pain.

Even at six years old, he refused to give this up. And now, at twenty-one… there was no point living if he couldn’t step foot into a kitchen again.

Why was he thinking about this anyway?

Shaking his head, Sanji chased his fath—Vinsmoke Judge’s words away. Instead, he focused his gaze on what was in the pantry, his eyes scanning the contents. He hummed appreciatively at the quality of the food stored inside—even if the kitchenware and appliances were utter shit, at least no expenses were spared on the ingredients.

Not that Sanji would have any trouble working with shit-quality food, but it certainly made his life easier.

Grabbing two bananas, several eggs, some flour and sugar, and a few select spices, Sanji left the pantry again, closing the door behind him with his foot. He almost expected the old head chef to start freaking out, fretting over Sanji balancing too many things at once.

And honestly, he was right. When he was a kid, he’d barely had any idea what he was doing, always overestimating how much he would be able to carry without dropping anything or hurting himself. A smile on his lips, Sanji wished the old man could see him now, handling everything with ease. The last time they saw each other, it came with a complementary trip to the infirmary to get a bad cut treated.

He left everything on the kitchen counter to head for the fridge, mumbling to himself as he listed off the ingredients he still needed. It’d been so long since he made this combination of foods: grilled fish with some fresh bread, scrambled eggs, and banana flambé for dessert. All her favorite foods.

He would have wanted to add a small scoop of vanilla ice cream as well but since that would melt, he decided against it. Maybe he should make some mini apple tarts too while he was at it?

Oh, should he make some fried rice? He didn’t see any mice around but he was sure there were some hungry critters scurrying about. Even though he wasn’t there to make food for them anymore…

“Man, what am I thinking,” Sanji muttered to himself, sighing deeply. There was no way the mice he had befriended all those years ago would still be alive after all these years. Mice simply did not live that long.

But…

Well, what was the harm in cooking a little more than needed?

—————

A bouquet of flowers in one hand, a picnic basket in the other, Sanji made his way towards the far corner of the Germa main ship. It was quiet, hidden from view by trees and bushes—trees that had become much larger, bushes that had been left to grow, unkempt in the years of his absence.

Seeing the state of the garden, Sanji half expected to find his destination completely taken over by vegetation but instead, he was surprised to find the gravestone perfectly clean, only with a tiny, impromptu bundle of flowers in front of it, one made up of the wild plants growing in this small, hidden garden-turned-park.

Probably Reiju, Sanji thought to himself, a small smile tugging on his lips.

“Hi, mom,” he said quietly as he carefully placed his own bouquet next to Reiju’s. “I’m sorry I couldn’t come see you sooner.”

He took a deep breath, willing his voice to stay steady. How pathetic; a grown ass man, getting all choked up at being by the grave of someone who had died over fourteen years ago…

“Zoro would have a fucking field day seeing me like this…” he muttered to himself, rubbing at his eyes. He hated how he suddenly missed the insufferable nicknames and annoying demands for booze.

He would take a fight with the Marimo over one second on Germa’s soil any day. Those were actually fun, if infuriating sometimes.

“You know, mom… I think you’d love the pirate crew I’m a part of. Luffy is so goddamn selfish and can inhale a month’s worth of meat before you can blink but he's always so happy with anything I make. It's fun cooking for him. Zoro is an ass and we fight constantly but he can tell the difference between good and shitty rice and as opposed to Torao, he doesn't throw a fit when I experiment with his rice balls. Nami-san never got to teach me how to make her special tangerine sauce… I could figure it out myself but I’d rather die than intrude like that…

“Usopp likes fish just the way you did and honestly it threw me off at first. Chopper. You'd love Chopper so much. He's like a stuffed animal who feeds on chocolate. We'd all be long dead without him.

"I like making Robin-chan's coffee and sandwiches when she's studying in the evening. She's the smartest person I've ever known; she could destroy Vinsmoke Judge in a second. Except she's not a piece of shit like him.

"Then there's Franky… if I wasn't there to feed him something decent, he would probably just eat junk food. And Brook, my god Brook. Mom, his table manners. His fucking table manners. It doesn't matter how many times I kick his boney ass, he still gets curry everywhere.

"And Jinbe—"

Sanji stopped suddenly, cutting his monologue short. Jinbe was their crewmate but…

"I guess I won't learn anything about him now, will I? I'm stuck here. With these shitty cuffs on my hands…"

He gulped heavily, clenching his shaky fists. He really was a fly caught in a spiderweb, wasn't he? Complete with his movements restricted, death lingering just at the edge of his vision, helpless.

Helpless, powerless… hopeless.

"Shit…” Sanji took a deep breath, closing his eyes momentarily before he dared speak quietly again. “Mom, I don't know what to do…"

But were there really any options left for him? The path was set the moment his wanted poster changed from Dead or Alive to Only Alive. There was no other way forward; no Baratie, no Merry, and no Sunny. No All Blue.

There was nothing but Germa 66, the family he had long since stopped considering a family, and Pudding-chan.

"At least with Pudding-chan, I'll be able to keep cooking. There would be no point living anymore if I couldn't… I want to keep cooking for my crew but Pudding-chan doesn't deserve me making that her problem.”

Sanji paused then, almost as if waiting for his mom to reply. But he knew that was impossible, knew no one would answer. He wasn’t sure he even wanted anyone to answer. Not when he was being so… so lame.

But in the face of his mother’s grave, the grave of the one person he could let himself be vulnerable with when he was a child… it was impossible to keep the facade up. He was tired. Tired of pretending, tired of staying strong, tired of saying he was ‘fine’.

And yet…

“But I’m fine, mom, don’t worry. I didn’t actually explain, did I? Pudding-chan is the girl I’m going to marry. She’s the Emperor Big Mom’s daughter but she’s very cute and very sweet. I might introduce her to you one day…” Or maybe he wouldn’t. He wasn’t so sure he’d even want his real family here—never mind a girl he met once, no matter how nice she was. He supposed time would tell.

As he tried to reach for his cigarettes, Sanji was suddenly reminded of the picnic basket in his hand. He blinked a few times, his gaze dropping to stare blankly at the small woven carrier, wondering how the hell he had managed to forget the most important thing, and he chuckled awkwardly.

“Ah, I hate talking about myself. But—” he paused, fumbling with the basket to pull out the items inside. “I brought you something. You know, I… After I ran away from here, I became a cook. A real, first-rate chef thanks to the shitty old man. My dad—you know, my actual dad—taught me everything I know so my cooking is actually real damn good. So…”

Sanji set the basket carefully on the ground, placing a small black, lacquered box in front of the grave before slowly opening it to reveal the carefully arranged contents of the lunch box—scrambled eggs, grilled fish, bread, and banana flambé.

“Do you remember? I made this for you once. Messed up real bad too. Then I dropped it and it got soaked in the rain, turning it completely inedible,” Sanji said with a genuine laugh. “I still remember Epony’s face when she tasted it.” He was sure he would never forget the face that twisted with disgust and pain from the awful, downright horrible, amount and mix of spices.

Shaking his head, he continued, “I know what I’m doing now though, so I added some bread and vegetables to make it actually feel like a meal,” Sanji pointed out, gesturing to the freshly baked bread that was hopefully still warm, as well as the carrots, radishes, and cucumbers cut and carefully styled into flowers. “Also here—” he added, turning back to the picnic basket to pull out the wine glass and a bottle of the best damn red wine he could find in Yonji’s shittily supplied wine cellar, pouring a perfectly measured glass for her with practiced ease.

A soft smile was still playing on his lips when he spoke his next words. “I know last time I did a terrible job but I—thank you for saying it was delicious back then.”

—————

Reiju wasn't sure how long she was standing behind one of the trees in the overgrown garden that had turned into a park around their mother's grave, waiting for Sanji. She wasn't sure… but she didn't really care. It had been thirteen years since she had helped Sanji escape from this place, thirteen years of Sanji living his own life like he was meant to. She was sure he had a lot to tell their mom, a lot to share about the East Blue, about Straw Hat, and about his friends.

For a while, Reiju wondered whether she should tell him they had come for him… but with Sanji's kindness, he would end up blaming himself for putting them in danger. And Sanji didn't deserve that; not when he was already being put through this foolish marriage plan of their father's.

And so, Reiju didn’t say anything; didn’t say anything when they met, didn’t say anything on their walk here, and she wouldn’t say anything later either.

For now… she would simply let him talk to mom as much as he wanted to and she would be there for him as long as she could throughout this whole mess, looking for a chance to let him escape again, just like she did years ago. After all, the cuffs on his wrist weren’t going to explode and on the off chance that Straw Hat would make it all the way to the very heart of Totto Land, there wouldn’t be any reason for him to stay—as long as Reiju could make sure the hostages in the East Blue were kept safe and as long as Sanji’s kindness didn’t keep him chained to Germa and this family.

Reiju waited for Sanji for a long time, left only with her thoughts and the faint sounds of their soldiers training. There really was nowhere to escape the military aspect in this kingdom, was there?

Shaking her head to make herself focus, Reiju quickly put her usual smile on her lips—the one that showed nothing of her real thoughts, one practiced to perfection over the long years of living with her father and brothers—before she turned to face Sanji once more as he approached her.

“Told her everything you wanted to?” Reiju asked, not commenting on the vulnerable expression on her brother’s face.

“Yeah,” Sanji replied quietly.

His eyes dropped downwards then and briefly, Reiju wondered whether he was hiding from her. But then he reached inside the picnic basket, pulling out a second, smaller lunch box and handed it to her wordlessly.

Reiju blinked. Her gaze fell to the box she was holding, then turned back to Sanji, who only gestured with his chin, prompting her to open it.

With a huff, Reiju carefully lifted the lid, peeking inside curiously… and soon, the corners of her mouth twitched upwards, her smile widening into a rare genuine, happy one. “Apple tarts?” she asked as if she couldn’t see them. “I can’t believe you remembered I like apples.”

“A good chef takes note and remembers their customers’ favorites,” Sanji noted with a shrug as if it were obvious.

And maybe it was, if this were any other family. But with the Vismokes… Reiju was used to no one besides Cosette even remembering she was deathly allergic to peanuts. After all, as long as it didn’t affect her battle performance, what did it matter?

“Thank you,” Reiju whispered.

“Yeah.” Sanji nodded, then paused, seemingly mulling over his words—or maybe looking for them. “Thank you, too.”

Reiju didn’t reply. She simply picked up one of the little tarts in her lunch box, taking a bite.

She had never tasted an apple so sweet.

#one piece #sanji #black leg sanji #vinsmoke sora #reiju #vinsmoke reiju #fluff #hurt/comfort #family #zines #zine stuff #katie pretends to fic #blonds zine #idk what to say here i'm so tired ararf

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