Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Sanji’s father always told him to stay away from the edge of the forest that grew a mile away from the castle.

That’s where the Fae hunted for unsuspecting prey, he’d said in the beginning, when Sanji still had potential. They feasted on human flesh, and swapped children out for doppelgangers with too-large eyes and too many teeth. It was not a fate befitting of a Vinsmoke, the king said.

By the time Sanji was nine years old, his father made it clear that being switched out with a Fae child would be an improvement. That was the freest Sanji had ever been in his life, the short years in his early childhood when his blood relations could care less about where he went and who he talked to.

Sanji was ten when he met the changeling boy.

The flowers bordering the forest were always the most lovely, full blossoms that drooped under their own weight.  Their colors didn’t compare to the dull, drab petals of what little grew in Germa’s fields.

Only the most beautiful of blooms were worthy to decorate his mother’s grave.

He wouldn’t dream of plucking a flower from the border of the Fae’s territory, of allowing them to slowly wither and die at her headstone. No, Sanji’s little hands reverently scooped delicate roots from the soil, nestling them into a basket he’d dampened with water from the stream that ran nearby. If he tended to them carefully, his mother could finally have the garden her husband had always denied her in life.

In their place, Sanji set out a blanket laden with goods. Sweet bread, jars of golden honey, shortbread cookies that melted in one’s mouth. He’d considered bringing a jug of milk, of course, but worried it would spoil before the forest’s inhabitants could drink it.

While the old geezer was certainly indulgent in his allowing Sanji free reign of the restaurant’s pantry and kitchen, he had a policy about wasting food.

“The Fae ain’t a bad folk, the king’s a damn liar,” Zeff had said while carefully tending to the injuries left on Sanji’s torso the night before last; his brothers hadn’t held back in their latest skirmish. “You just gotta show them some damn respect and watch your words. Food’s an easy way into their good graces, ya hear me?”

“Thank you for the flowers,” Sanji said out loud, then winced. Zeff was always warning him about the power of one’s language with the Fae. “I promise I’ll take care of them.”

In hindsight, making a promise probably wasn’t a good idea, either. This probably wasn’t what his mother had intended when she encouraged her son’s good manners.

He’d just set his basket over his arm and started the walk home when he heard a series of crunches, followed by a particularly loud belch.

“Please don’t kill me.” Sanji said mildly, staring straight ahead at the castle in the distance. He should keep walking. Even if they decided to eat him, at least he wouldn’t see it coming. Perhaps it would even be swift; Niji always said that the Fae roasted their victims alive to render the fat and juices.

It sounded like a horrible way to die.

“This is so yummy!!” A chipper voice answered. “Do you have more?”

Sanji turned around.

The first thing he saw was a boy. At first glance, he seemed human, and Sanji almost yelled at him for gobbling up food left for the fair folk. But his eyes seemed overly bright as they bore into Sanji’s soul, his ears slightly too pointed. His freckles shifted like stars in the sky over round cheeks, marred only by a silvery scar under his eye.

The second thing he noticed was that all the food was gone. No crumbs were left behind.

“Hello.” Sanji said quietly, clutching the flowers close.

His face split into a too-wide smile, but there was only joy in the boy’s expression.

“I’m Monkey D. Luffy!” he introduced himself bluntly, and Sanji stared at the blatant introduction. “What’s yours?”

Either this wasn’t a Fae, or he wasn’t a very good one.

“I don’t think I’m supposed to tell you that.”

“Why not?” Luffy pouted, licking glaze from his fingers. “I gave you mine!”

It was a consolation that names had no power on human lips. If his father or brothers had the sway of a Faerie’s tongue, they’d do horrible things with it.

Even if Sanji wouldn’t dream of using Luffy’s name to hurt him, holding that kind of control over another person scared him.

“Where are you from?” He asked curiously. Changing the topic was just a bonus.

His mother had whispered tales of the Feywilds, of the four courts that lay within its magical borders. Summer, Winter, Autumn, and Spring. Eternal seasons that housed the Fair Folk.

Sanji hoped that the boy didn’t come from the Winter Court. While he was sure it was lovely, he had enough of the snow and cold living in Germa. No, he dreamed of the Summer Court, of ocean waves warm enough to swim in and tropical fish that came in ever color.

Luffy pointed towards the castle town, paused, then shifted his finger towards the forest.

“You’re a changeling,” Sanji realized out loud. He’d only heard of one coming from their town, a little blonde noble boy whose own parents turned him in to the palace guard. Though, Sanji supposed, they weren’t actually his real family.

Sanij didn’t think he deserved to be burned at the stake. It wasn’t his fault that the Fae had left him with the humans, after all. Back then he’d still trusted his father to see reason, to be a fair and just king. He’d begged him to spare the boy, shielding his body with his own.

In the end, the ensuing punishment left Sanji too beaten to formally attend the event. He could only watch the execution from his mother’s window, high up in the tower. He still remembered the impossible brightness of the flames that forced him to shut his eyes. By the time it died down to embers, there was nothing left, not even bones. It was like he’d never even existed.

Sora had cried for the child, human or not, and held Sanji close to her chest.

Sanji took an aborted half-step forward. He was a foolish boy, Zeff always told him, with a bleeding heart and a loose tongue.

“You need to leave,” he said urgently. “It’s not safe here. I can… I can leave more food, if that’s what you need. But this place is dangerous to people like you.”

Luffy only hummed, entirely unbothered. “My big brothers say it’s not time to go yet. There’s three of us!”

Not one, but three changelings in their woods. Judge would have a fit. It was right then and there that Sanji decided his father would never know.

Even if it killed him.

“Are you going to hurt me?” Sanji asked.

Tilting his head to the side in thought, the changeling stroked his chin, shaggy bangs in his eyes.

“I don’t wanna hurt you,” Luffy decided solemnly. “I really like your food. Bad people don’t make yummy food like that.”

Sanji glanced at the forest behind the boy, feeling the heavy weight of somebody watching him. “And your brothers?”

“Maybe. But I won’t let them, you’re my friend now!”

Luffy’s stomach rumbled noisily.

Wordlessly, Sanji reached into the satchel in his hip and pulled out his own lunch. He held out the sandwich, layered with cured meat and a concoction of condiments he’d been experimenting with.

“You can have it. My da- the old man I help out says nobody should go hungry.”

Frankly, the way Luffy unlatched his jaw to swallow it in one bite should have been horrifying. Sanji only found it endearing.

Luffy bounced from foot to foot, licking crumbs from his lips.

“Do you wanna play with me?!” He asked eagerly, offering a sticky hand.

It was stupid, borderline suicidal to say yes. Those who wandered into the forest didn’t often come back. Those who did were forever changed.

Sanji reached out to take Luffy’s palm in his, and was tugged into the trees.

It wasn’t the Feywilds. No, this was simply a forest, with normal trees and normal dirt and normal animals. But Luffy made it magical.

He found himself coming back to the forest’s edge time and time again, a heavy basket of food on his arm. Hours passed in a minute when his friend sang, the frogs and deer and birds all flocked to his bare feet that danced in the warm earth, and sunlight lived in his warm eyes.

Luffy’s brothers were kind, even if they watched him with suspicious eyes. The blonde boy with a burned face was strikingly familiar, and Sanji was glad for it. He didn’t have the same strangeness that the other two did, though, his face and ears rounded and soft. Luffy introduced Sabo as his other big brother, though, and that was that.

They gave Sanji only their first names, and not the other half. To them, he was simply Cook.

The trio of siblings couldn’t stray too far from town, Luffy’s brother Ace explained, brow furrowed with frustration and flames dancing at his fingertips. They weren’t strong enough to survive in the Feywilds amongst the court Fae, not yet.

“You should stay with us, Cook,” Sabo said earnestly, dabbing away the crusted blood from Sanji’s lip with the hem of his own coat. “You said your siblings did this to you?”

Sanji shrugged, too entranced with the bunny Luffy had dumped in his lap to think about anything else. “We were training, and I wasn’t strong enough. That’s just what brothers do, right?”

“No,” came the horrified response. “No, it’s not.”

Ace eyed the bruises on Sanji’s face with distaste, lip curled to reveal a sharpened canine. “When we leave for the Feywilds, you’ll come with us,” he said definitively. “We’d be better brothers anyway.”

Some Fae collected shiny objects, beautiful flowers, even bones. Ace collected siblings, Sanji came to learn.

It was a possessive statement, punctuated only by the way Luffy rubbed his cheek against Sanji’s with a gleeful purr at his brother’s declaration. It should have felt dangerous, disturbing.

“Cook,” Luffy sang in a strange, warbling tune. “My Cook.”

Sanji only felt that he was loved. It felt like his mother’s hugs, of Zeff’s occasional pats on the head with a gruff “Good job”.

In the life of Vinsmoke Sanji, nothing good lasted for long.

He’d long come to stop fearing for his own safety, years of abuse at the hands of his father and brothers quite literally beating it out of him. But watching Luffy be dragged through the castle town streets, shackled in iron?

Sanji had never been more afraid in his life.

There was no doubt that Luffy had been doing something foolish. He loved humans too much to stay away from them.

It took Sanji precious time to convince Ace and Sabo not to storm the castle.

“I don’t care what kind of training the king’s guard has, or how much iron they carry,” Ace spat, smoke pluming from his nose. “They have Luffy.”

Sabo nodded emphatically. “I can touch iron, anyway,” he said cryptically. “I can set him free. You just stay here, Cook. We’ll bring Luffy back.”

“Nobody can touch Germa iron with their bare hands,” Sanji argued. “The king coats it in acid.”

That’s what Reiju told him, anyway. Their father had long stopped wasting breath explaining the intricacies of warfare with his third son.

“Then we wear gloves.”

“You don’t understand, they’ll kill you, they’ll kill all of you-”

Ace rolled his eyes. “I’d like to see them try-”

“Cook, Ace, we need to calm down-”

“My name is Vinsmoke Sanji,” he finally blurted, and the brothers froze. “I’m the prince of Germa. I know how to get in, and I can get Luffy out.”

Ace’s brow furrowed. “That’s not your name. Half of it, at least.”

There was a spark of hope in the declaration, but no time to fan it into a flame.

It was a simple matter to sneak into the dungeon, fumbling with the keys to release the iron chains criss-crossing over Luffy’s chest and around his arms. The burns would scar, he mourned, but Luffy only smiled.

“Thanks, Cook!” He chirped, as though he hadn’t just been brutally captured and imprisoned. “I owe you one!”

Promises were law to the Fae.

They snuck out using the servant’s quarters. Alarm bells didn’t even start ringing until they were halfway over the field and wading through a carpet of blue flowers towards the forest.

There were packs over Ace and Sabo’s shoulders when they reunited.

“It’s time,” Ace said seriously as Sabo fretted and worried over their battered youngest brother, wrapped in Sanji’s cloak. “We’re headed to the Feywilds tonight. We can’t stay here.”

Luffy’s hand tightened around Sanji’s to a painful degree.

“Not without my Cook.” He said mulishly, batting away Sabo’s gentle embrace.

Ace’s lips quirked up. “Yeah, obviously.”

And oh, how he wanted to, even if it spelled certain death or at least eternal madness. But the old man would worry at his sudden disappearance, he realized, and Sanji owed him an explanation, at least.

“I can’t,” he found himself saying. “Not yet, I need to tell Zeff where I’m going.”

Luffy’s grip clamped around his hand.

“Does Cook promise to come back after he says goodbye?” He asked with a deadly calm, words thrumming with power.

Sanji nodded.

“My name is Blackleg Sanji,” he introduced himself truly. “And I promise to return to you.”

The moon was high when the king’s guard intercepted the third prince on his path to the restaurant owned by the man who was more of a father to Sanji than Judge ever was.

Vinsmoke Sanji was only twelve years old when he died. At least, that’s what the king of Germa said, dabbing at his eyes with a handkerchief during the funeral.

“My son was a strong soldier.” He lied, flanked by his four children. “And a stronger son. Our kingdom will have our revenge against the Fae for taking first blood. We will conquer the Feywilds in the Vinsmoke name.”

His shout of “Our kingdom will prevail!” was met with raucous cheers, ignorant of the child who rotted in the dungeons, stripped of name and face forgotten.

Only beyond the forest’s edge was the boy who cooked for the fairies truly mourned.

Chapter Text

Sanji knew something was wrong when his father came to visit his cell for the first time in eight years.

Not that he minded the man’s absence from his life. His sister had taken pity on him, supplying him with shelves of books. He memorized the ones containing recipes, imagining how he would prepare them in exquisite detail. Judge wouldn’t have allowed such luxuries.

His brothers were in good spirits when they trailed behind the king, dressed in full ceremonial garb in garish hues of red, blue, and green. Reiju’s eyes, so much like their mother’s, were full of dread.

He was well and truly fucked, then.

“Guess what, failure?” Niji sneered, lunging towards the bars. He cackled at Sanji’s flinch. “Father’s finally found a way for you to be useful.”

“Quiet, boy.” Judge snapped, and his second son snapped to attention.

Normally, Sanji would be elated to see someone finally shut Niji up. He found himself only able to pity his brother.

He used to envy his siblings, not fully understanding why his mother shed bitter tears over their fates. They weren’t even born yet, after all, when their father made a deal with a trickster Fae. His sons would exhibit incredible strength, speed, and resilience in exchange for the hearts of Judge’s unborn children.

The royal doctor believed Sora to be carrying triplets, and thus the spell was cast for three. It was sheer dumb luck that Sanji was the one to keep his capacity to love.

Judge crowed that the price was miniscule. If anything, he believed the cost of his sons’ emotions to be a boon. Sanji had desperately wanted to be like them, years ago. Now, it seemed a fate worse than death.

The mask around Sanji’s head was heavy, only released at mealtimes when the guards remembered. His first helmet had burned, a cruel final gift from his father. He didn’t know how, but Reiju managed to switch it out with an identical encasing not coated in Germa’s signature acid.

Small mercies, he supposed.

Judge sneered down at him. Sanji stared back, the eye not covered by a fringe of greasy hair unblinking.

He had nothing to lose, after all. Zeff had gone missing before the first invasion of the Fae into castle town less than a year ago, Reiju told him. Only the restaurant remained, strangely untouched amongst the mountains of rubble.

Sanji drew no small amount of satisfaction from Judge’s fruitless endeavors to conquer the Feywilds. Germa had drawn first blood, of course, but the Fae had hit back with the force of a bonfire against a hornet’s nest.

Even down in the dungeon, Sanji had heard the voice that boomed with thunder in the sky, feminine and ice-cold. It carried with it a warning and a promise.

“Under order of the king of the Sun Court,” she’d rumbled. It was strange; he’d never heard of more than the four seasonal courts. “The people of this castle and its surrounding area have exactly six of your human months to leave. You will not be pursued. All those who remain will be treated as allies of the Germa king, and therefore enemies to the Fae.”

Such mercy was unheard of. His confusion only grew when Reiju informed him that the citizens who attempted to flee were actually successful, aided in their passage by a cloaked demon with three swords who slaughtered the Germa soldiers who dared try to stop them.

The streets of castle town flowed with human blood. It was the first time, but not the last.

Six months passed, and the kingdom was invaded. Sanji heard the cannonfire, thick explosions that sent dust raining down over his head (he only hoped not to be buried alive). And above it all, raucous, unbridled laughter.

The Fae had disappeared after finding no trace of the Germa king that huddled in an iron-lined safehouse underground. All attacks since then arrived without warning.

Even with an army of men trained in killing their kind, Vinsmoke Judge was a coward who never fought with his men. If he was being honest, Sanji was rooting for a side, and it wasn’t his father’s.

It was Judge who broke the staring contest first, satisfaction humming in Sanji’s veins.

“Niji isn’t wrong, however,” the man finally uttered coldly, glancing back at his third son like a bug under his shoe. “I have finally found a role even you would be unable to fail in. No doubt you are aware of the Fae’s current attempts to topple our kingdom. You will turn the tide of war. For the first time in your miserable life, you will have the pride of serving your kingdom.”

“Am I getting married?” Sanji blurted. A marriage for political gain wasn’t unlikely, now that he thought of it. Reiju even shared her reports their father had her writing up that detailed potential allies in the conquest of the Feywilds. At the top of the list was Charlotte Linlin, a truly awful woman with an abundance of children she married off for political favors.

He just hoped his fiancé was kind.

“No.” Judge’s lips spread in a cold smile. “You’re being crowned king.”

Never let it be said that his father couldn’t surprise him.

Sanji had never entertained the idea of being in line for the throne. Now, though, he wished the whole event had a little more fanfare to it. He would’ve loved a feast, for example, or even just a slice of cake.

As it was, they didn’t even bother to let him take a bath before the priest arrived to deliver the rites and declare the third son of Vinsmoke Judge their ruling monarch.

He didn’t even get a crown. Insulting, really.

The declaration of the Fae king had been criminally open-ended, his father crowed, cruel eyes alight with mirth. Deliver the king of Germa to face one of our own in combat, he said, and the Fae will not strike the next blow.

Stupid Faerie didn’t specify that it needed to be the current king of Germa, and not one of his unlucky sons, Sanji thought bitterly. It was the perfect twist on words that allowed Judge to send Sanji out to the border of the Feywilds like a lamb for slaughter.

“Your sacrifice,” Judge spat the word out like it burned him. “Will buy our kingdom time to prepare an army. Rejoice, little failure. I finally have need of you.”

His people wouldn’t even know that there’d been a brief transfer of titles, Sanji’s name omitted from the royal records.

Of course, the former king didn’t dare accompany Sanji to his inevitable death. No, he sent his daughter, ever the diplomat, and his second son (he couldn’t risk the first, after all) to ensure the delivery was completed.

Sanji didn’t mind being crammed in an iron-clad carriage with his sister, though he found himself wishing it were Ichiji instead of Niji. His oldest brother, at least, sometimes shut up. The carriage’s movement made him feel unusually dizzy and nauseous. He wished it had windows; he would have liked to see that field where he met Luffy one last time.

Across from him, Niji grinned at his younger brother’s unkept appearance. They could have allowed him to clean up, remove his helmet, dress him in finery fit for a king.

His current state was clearly meant to be a blatant insult to the Sun Court. Sanji just hoped his death would be swift.

“I can’t wait to see what they’ll do with you,” Niji rambled on, ignorant of the way his siblings tuned his sneering voice out. “Ichiji thinks they’ll just behead you, but that’d be boring. Yonji hopes there’ll be some sort of magic involved, something creepy and awful that rots your body from the inside.”

“As for me,” he continued, leaning forward. “I’m thinking they’ll roast you alive, just like the stories. Slow and agonizing. Though, there’s not enough meat on you to feed a whole court. Maybe just a paltry snack for their stupid king, then.”

While Niji kept prattling on, Sanji turned to give his sister a long, drawn-out rolling of the eyes. The action earned him a soft huff of laughter hidden behind a delicate hand.

Despite his filth, Reiju chose to sit next to him for the few hours of life he had left. It was a small comfort. He was selfish to hope she’d break him out, after all; that hope should’ve died years ago.

Reiju set a hand on his thigh, just in front of Sanji’s bound hands. To most people, the action would be innocuous, a small attempt of comfort aimed towards a dying brother.

Only, his sister didn’t do comfort.

Sure enough, he felt something heavy drop into his threadbare pocket.

“The blade is both iron and poisoned,” she whispered into his ear. “A strong paralytic. The death granted will be swift and painless. It is all I can offer you.”

Whether the switchblade in his pocket was meant for the Fae king or himself, Sanji wasn’t sure.

He bumped his shoulder against hers companionably. Sanji would never be able to stop loving her.

“It’s okay, Reiju,” he said, voice muffled by the helm. “You did what you could.”

She could have done so much more, a bitter voice said in his head. He staunchly ignored it. She could have set you free.

At least his death meant she’d be safe.

When the carriage came to a halt, Sanji practically threw himself against the door, hopping out to revel at the soft, green grass under his bare feet. He wished he could feel the sunlight against his face one last time.

This wasn’t the edge of the forest, Sanji realized as he reluctantly tore his gaze from the plantlife at his feet. No, this was deeper, with trees that towered impossibly high and wide, air sweet and charged with something he couldn’t put his finger on.

He couldn’t help but shudder at the absolutely enormous beetle that scuttled past in the brightest shade of pink he’d ever seen.

Ace always said to expect the impossible in the Feywilds, and this was just the entrance.

The sight of a full, blue-petaled flower had him scrambling to his knees for a closer look, pride be damned. They were just as beautiful as he remembered. When they shriveled and dried in the changing seasons, Sabo had taught him how to collect the seeds and scatter them around. He liked to think this was one they’d inadvertently planted all those years ago.

Sanji hoped the brothers made it, living the adventures they’d promised to share with him.

“Aw, is the poor failure crying over a little flower?” Niji called out scathingly, and Sanji couldn’t find it in himself to care.

“Let him be, Niji,” Reiju voiced dully. “Even those set for execution are granted a final request.”

When Sanji reached out his bound hands to gently brush against the flower’s soft petals, an impossibly strong grip snatched his wrists away.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” a deep voice rumbled, and Sanji was suddenly face to face with a demon. “The king decreed those flowers under his possession. To destroy one means a fate worse than death.”

Sanji’s first thought was that the sun had suddenly set by the shade that settled over his vision. But no, he realized, those were just the man’s giant wings, large and leathery. A single eye gleamed with a red light that spelled danger, bloodlust.

Three swords strapped to his hip meant this was the man who helped the people of Germa flee their country. There were worse people to deliver him to an execution, he mused.

Despite the Fae’s (because what else could he be?) hulking form, Sanji had to hold back a hysterical chuckle at the vibrant green hair sprouting from his head.

Well, Sanji was going to die either way. It’d be kind of funny if it was before he was delivered to the Fae king; Judge would be pissed.

“Excuse me, Mosshead,” Sanji spat, jabbing him in the chest with fingers bound together. “I wasn’t gonna destroy your stupid flower, I was just admiring it.”

The man thumbed his white-hilted sword. Sanji prepared himself for death and met his one-eyed gaze. He shifted, and there was suddenly pressure.

His throat closed off, lungs filling with sand as a vice-like band wrapped around his heart and squeezed. He felt something trickle from his nose, his ears, pooling at the base of his helmet.

Fear. There were burning flashes of crimson blood, sharpened fangs, the keen awareness of being hunted like an animal. There was no escaping the fate of prey, not under his red, blazing eye. An unsteady heartbeat pounded in his chest. A melody ran through Sanji’s ears, hauntingly beautiful. It sounded like a battlesong.

Sanji was going to die today, and it was not going to be from his own cowardice. He looked up and met three versions of the Fae man, impossibly overlapped with one another.

“Fuck off,” he gasped, dimly aware that he was on his knees. “If I could spit on your ugly mug through this damn helmet, I would.”

The oppressive force dissipated, and a single Mosshead tilted his head to the side.

“Who are you?” The Fae asked bluntly, and Sanji had to glance down to check that there really wasn’t a sword sticking out of his chest. Shock did weird things to a man, after all.

Reiju cleared her throat, looking pale. “The king’s terms have been met,” she nodded towards Sanji. “The king of Germa has been delivered to his court.”

Niji, surprisingly, remained silent. Sanji had never seen his brother spooked before.

The crimson eye blinked. “That’s not the king. Pretty sure he’s a prisoner.”

“He was crowned king this morning,” Reiju confirmed coolly. “He is of royal blood. We have met your king’s terms.”

A grunt. “Whatever. Not my problem.” He turned on his heel, stalking into the forest, a green robe swishing around his ankles. “Come along, human.”

“And the agreement?” Reiju called out.

“I’m not the king.” He answered plainly, yet his words were careful. “But it seems you did follow the conditions, slimy as you were about it. I would likely consider the terms fulfilled. I also believe it likely that the body of your… king… will be returned at the border.”

“Great, I’m getting the hell out of here.” Niji muttered, already retreating to the carriage.

Reiju gave Sanji one last look.

“Live, Sanji.” She said softly, and then she too was gone.

The Fae watched the carriage rumble away, his eye now a cool silver. Wordlessly, he turned away, stalking back into the shadows of the trees.

Sanji scrambled to his feet. The closer he was to the Fae, the further he was from Niji. So, scary Fae-demon-bat-mossman it was.

“Hey,” he asked, nearly tripping over his feet. “What do I call you?”

“You can call me Zoro.”

It was likely part of his name, just not his full one. Only court kings went by another moniker entirely, according to Ace.

“Cool. You can call me-”

“Don’t care. Keep up, human.”

There was a long line of floating lights they followed. Strangely, Zoro seemed to regard the little orbs with contempt, even going so far as to irritably bat one out of the way.

Sanji had always dreamed of finally seeing the Feywilds. Even the knowledge that he’d be dead soon wasn’t enough to dull his elation at the sight.

He’d expected the lush greens, the dappled sunlight dancing between the leaves. The sheer enormity of the trees and flowers, however, was startling. Stranger still were the vibrant hues, blues and oranges and purples and pinks that melded seamlessly into the undergrowth. Even the birdsong was otherworldly.

There was one thing, however, that Sanji still wanted, even if life was off the table.

“Zoro,” he called out, stepping neatly around one of the blue flowers, small and dainty amongst its massive counterparts. “I want to ask a favor.”

That had the Fae man freezing, at least.

“You’re either very stupid,” Zoro said slowly, slapping away another orb. Sanji swore it flashed angrily at him. “Or very desperate.”

Sanji shrugged. “A man can be both.”

Zoro’s gaze was shrewd. “You don’t seem frightened. I was under the impression humans were more… delicate.”

“First of all, fuck you,” Sanji sniffed, then sighed. “I want to ask that my body not be returned to my family.”

“So, you admit that you’re going to die.”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever.” He snarked. “So, will you do it?”

The air was charged, pale hair on Sanji’s arms standing on end.

“Why?” Came the simple response.

“I don’t want my father to have it,” Sanji said honestly. Lying to the Fae was fruitless. “You can do whatever you want with my body. Burn it, bury it, leave it to the rats. Germa took my life. I don’t want it to have my death, either.”

A grin spread across Zoro’s face, an impossible number of teeth with sharp canines that would tear with ease through Sanji’s jugular.

“And if we wanted to eat you?”

Sanji shrugged. “I’d prefer to be dead before you start, but it seems fair to me. I’m a cook, I feed people. It’s fitting, don’t you think?”

“I was told you were a king. A prince, before.”

He lifted his chin high in response. “Those are not titles of my own choosing. I am a cook.”

Cook! There you are, I’m hungry!

For a moment, Sanji wanted to ask about Luffy and his brothers. Beg Zoro to send them word, to let them know that he hadn’t meant to break his promise.

But that would be unfathomably cruel, to let them know he was alive right when he’d just been offed again.

“I do not believe my king would object to your request.” Zoro finally said, not unkindly. “I will speak on the matter with him.”

That wasn’t a no.

It seemed the sun was growing brighter, dappled light growing stronger and warmer.

Sanji didn’t know what he expected of the Sun Court. A glowing palace, maybe, or perhaps an amphitheater carved into a marble mountainside.

The field they arrived at was beautiful, at least. Flowers sprouted liberally from the unkempt grass, a sky of clear blue at odds with the gray gloom Sanji had grown up with in Germa.

There were no thrones, no raised dais. Instead, a simple table sprouted from the roots of a tree with three creatures seated around the circle, each stranger than the last. In the midst of them sat a boy who glowed with a ratty straw hat tied around his neck, white clouds streaming from his hair and shoulders.

Ruby eyes came to meet his own, bottomlessly curious. It was like staring at a god.

This was their king, he knew implicitly.

“Welcome,” Zoro rumbled, shoving Sanji forward by the shoulder. “To the Sun Court.”

Chapter Text

Sanji had never liked being stared at.

Even when he was still considered Judge’s son, he preferred to hide behind his mother’s skirts in the public eye, shielding himself behind Reiju’s shoulder. It always felt like the searching eyes were trying to bare his very soul.

“So,” Sanji cleared his throat. “Nice party. Missing some appetizers, though.”

He was rewarded with a snort from the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen, red hair tumbling down her back like fire. The dress hanging off her pale shoulders was gossamer thin, opalescent like the shells in Zeff’s room that the man always let him hold.

“Oh, we did, little human,” she said with a sharp smile. “It’s just our dear Zoro here took too long in getting back, and our king got hungry.”

“I was on time, and you know it,” Zoro growled in response, crossing his arms at Sanji’s side. “Don’t think I didn’t notice the lights. Witch.”

“Is this him? Is this Judge?” The king interrupted as he leaned forward, looking more like an excited child than a ruler. “He looks so puny! Why does he have a funny head?”

Then his very neck stretched with a horrible, disgusting schleck that had Sanji swallowing bile as boggling eyes bore into his own. When a hand followed suit to try and poke his helmet, it was automatic for Sanji to bat it away.

“Get your fucking hands off of me,” Sanji said irritably, noting with satisfaction the way his audience’s brows shot up to their foreheads. “It’s iron, you moron.”

For a moment, a horrible moment, he thought about the poisoned knife in his pocket, and the king’s face so close to his own. Stab out, then drive the blade back into himself. It would be quick, easy, no consequences.

Quick as the thought came, he dismissed it. This Fae was better than his father. He let Sanji’s people flee, even helped them leave.

A life for a life. Zeff made it out. Besides, Sanji was never a fan of underhanded tricks. If he was going to kill a Fae king, it’d be in an honest fight.

“This is the Germa king,” Zoro said, making no move to pull his leader away. “We just got fucked over. They crowned a prince and sent him in. Probably a nephew or some shit.”

“Nika, you moron!” The flame-haired woman screeched, abruptly pulling in her king by the neck only to strangle him. “I told you to watch your words, but did you listen to me? No!”

For a moment, Sanji feared for her safety, but Nika only laughed. This wasn’t like the cutthroat politics of Germa at all.

“He doesn’t look like a king,” said the final Fae at the woman’s side, thumbing at an unusually long nose with a worried frown. Two goat-like horns peeked out from dark, curly locks. His eyes seemed to shift from the brown of soil to the green of grass and back again; Sanji could see cloven hooves under the table where human feet would be. “He’s missing the crown. I don’t know if we should fight him…”

Nika tilted his head to the side, and Sanji’s body went weightless. He felt buoyant, detached, like a kite untethered in a gust of wind. It was exhilarating. For the first time in his life, Sanji felt free.

“Are you the king of Germa, human?”

“Yes.” The word ripped from his mouth, and Sanji felt too light, too blissfully unaware to be concerned about it.

“Is Vinsmoke Judge still alive?”

Sanji hummed in affirmation.

“How are you related to him?”

“He’s my father.”

The air went cold, then, and Sanji dropped to the ground like a wooden puppet with its strings cut. At first, Sanji thought he’d been blinded, but it was the sun itself that had been extinguished. He was cold, empty, heavy.

He had the feeling that he’d just said something very, very wrong.

“You and your brothers,” Nika whispered, and the words reverberated in Sanji’s ears like a steel drum. His body rippled and morphed shapelessly in front of his very eyes. “Took someone who was mine.”

This was the power of the Fae king.

Even the satyr at Nika’s side, who’d been eyeing him with pity, suddenly looked ready to drive a knife into Sanji’s gut himself.

Sanji opened his mouth, but no sound came out. His heart felt ready to burst out of his chest.

There was nothing he could say to defend himself, anyway. This king had a vendetta against the Vinsmoke family, and their blood ran in Sanji’s veins.

It wasn’t fair, but then again, Vinsmoke Sanji’s life rarely was.

The woman stood up with a crack of lightning, and he couldn’t help but flinch.

“Who do you choose to duel him, Nika?” She asked softly, expression stormy. “Judge will be yours; you can leave his sons to us.”

He felt like he was falling, bones threatening to tremble from his skin. Humans were not meant to feel this much power, this much malice.

Nika said nothing. But when he looked to Zoro, the demonic man flashed sharp, white teeth, and the battlesong began anew.

“It would be my pleasure.”

“You’re allowed to ask for a weapon,” Nika called out. “I’m giving you a fair chance to fight back, something you never gave him.”

Sanji wondered who he was. Given the number of Fae his brothers had killed, the list of potential victims wasn’t exactly short.

He hoped Nika had the chance to say goodbye.

Zoro’s wings flared as he took a step back, drawing all three blades. Sanji’s nose burned with the smell of blood.

He never saw his opponent take a step. One moment, his hands were bound. The next, the ropes had been cut clean through.

“I was going to make this painless, maybe even just send you home short a limb,” Zoro growled. “But your suffering is long overdue, Vinsmoke.”

That’s not your name, Ace whispered.

The paralyzing fear that had seized Sanji’s limbs suddenly shattered.

“Don’t call me that.” he growled, and snatched Reiju’s weapon from his pocket, snapping open the blade. He would not go down a martyr for the Vinsmoke name.

Blackleg Sanji was not somebody’s vengeance.

A tree root whipped around his wrist before he could drive it into his own stomach, and squeezed until white-hot pain forced him to let go. His blade fell to the grass with a damning thunk.

“My, my. Eager to die the easy way, are we?”

The smell of rotting flowers came first, pungent and sweet. Then there was a towering woman made of treebark, brilliant sapphire eyes alight with mirth as she brushed against Sanji’s side.

She was stunning. He suspected she was equally deadly.

“Robin,” Zoro spat. “I had it handled.”

The dryad only smiled innocently, footsteps silent as she joined the table. Her arms crossed over her chest, and another chair sprouted from the dirt.

“Pardon my tardiness, my king,” Robin said, voice husky and mellow. “I merely wanted to ensure that Chopper was far enough away with the others. He doesn’t like all the blood, you know.”

She glanced back towards Sanji. “If you’re going to beg for your life, I would do so now, small one. You do not have much time left.”

Sanji set his jaw, and said nothing. He resolved himself not to scream.

“What weapon do you choose?” Zoro asked, adjusting the fighting leathers on his torso that left little to the imagination.

At that, Sanji couldn’t help but grin, sliding his hands into his pockets.

“Don’t need one.”

Zoro rolled his eye. “Suit yourself, then.”

Putting the third sword in his mouth was certainly an interesting choice, Sanji thought.

He threw himself to the side before Zoro struck, only narrowly dodging the blade that would have cleaved him in half.

Though, likely not in half, Sanji corrected himself. His opponent had made it very clear that he intended to draw out his execution.

The beat of drums, a singing warcry with no sound, an impossible weight breaking him down, down, down.

Sanji rolled, the grass plush against his shoulder. With a shout, he extended out a heel straight into Zoro’s kneecap.

Just because he’d been locked away in the castle dungeons for the last seven years didn’t mean he never practiced what Zeff taught him.

His satisfaction was swift as the Fae stumbled, wings flailing.

Aim for the head, Eggplant, Zeff growled.

Zoro’s palm caught his ankle mid-swing, and promptly hurled him into a tree.

The air rushed from Sanji’s lungs, head snapping back against the back of his helmet. When he tried to stand, his arms trembled. Everything hurt, the way it did when his brothers got bored.

Reiju wasn’t here to bandage him up.

“Get up.” Zoro hissed. “Get up and face me.

He tasted copper.

Sanji eyelids fluttered as he slowly heaved himself up, using the trunk for support. Blood thundered in his ears.

“Fuck… fuck you.” He gasped, and threw himself against his opponent.

Zeff had taught him well, Sanji knew, and he was good. He was also woefully out of practice in fighting against an actual living being, malnourished, and wearing a damn weight on his head.

He probably should’ve asked for some shoes.

The combination of Zoro’s bloodlust, Nika’s unrestrained aura, it was just too much for his body to handle.

Sanji fell again, then again, and again. Blood trickled from every limb, shallow cuts meant to sting with agonizing clarity. He’d felt more than one thing snap, left arm hanging limply from a dislocated shoulder.

Every time, Zoro waited. And with every time his body hit the ground, the beat of the drums became louder, stronger, faster in time with the beat of his heart.

Submit. Failure. Fear.

He was on his knees again, every nerve screaming in pain. There were eyes in the trees, on the ground, in the sky.

The drums were here.

Sanji slipped from the thread of sanity.

Someone was screaming, the animalistic cry of the hunted. Its heart beat faster, the pulse of a rabbit with a wolf’s maw around its neck. Its weak kicks were futile; it was going to die, and the eyes were still on him, the drum kept thundering, its heart kept fluttering.

Then, everything went silent except for the sound of Sanji’s heaving gasps and unrestrained whimpers.

“I grant you clarity before death,” Zoro said, and it was cruel. “So that you may greet it with open arms.”

He wasn’t sure what Death looked like. Hopefully, it was kind, at least for his mother’s sake.

Sanji stumbled to his feet like a fawn with an arrow in its flank, spitting out a glob of blood that pooled against the base of his helmet and ran down his neck.

“Do your worst.” He whispered.

He wasn’t able to muffle the agonized cry that rushed past his lips as he slammed against the ground, body sprawled on his back like the picture of starfish he’d seen in one of Zeff’s books.

His heart thumped unsteadily, an all-encompassing tightness spreading through his chest, his arms, his jaw.

It would have been nice to see the sea before he died, just once.

Zoro’s blade cleaved straight through the helmet over Sanji’s head, and he breathed in his first clean breath of air with the knowledge that it would be his last.

Sanji raised his eyes to the sky. He wished it was blue again.

The sword raised, and swung down.

There was a scream.

“STOP!”

Chapter Text

The blade of Zoro’s sword hovered just above Sanji’s neck.

“Cook!” The same voice cried, and the sun blazed in the blue, blue sky. “Cook, Sanji!”

Weird time for an auditory hallucination, he thought dryly.

Zoro’s body was shoved aside with a “Move, Zoro, move!”, and Nika’s worried face took up his vision.

A hand gently cradled Sanji’s cheek.

“Cook,” Nika whispered reverently. “My Cook. You came back.”

When he blinked his eyes (he didn’t realize he’d closed them), Nika’s visage overlapped with that of a boy from so long ago as the haziness to his features receded. They both had a little scar under their eye. It was so clear, now.

King of the Sun Court, huh? It was strangely fitting.

It was also hard to breathe.

“Luffy,” Sanji slurred breathlessly, fingers twitching at his side to reach up, to hold his first friend. “You’re… here.”

“Yeah,” Luffy grinned, brighter than any sun. His arms looped around Sanji’s shoulders and pulled him close. He was just as warm as he’d always been. “You should’ve told me it was you, silly!”

You and your brothers took someone who was mine.

Sanji managed to hook his swollen fingers into Luffy’s vest, the article of clothing a cherry-bright hue of red he’d never seen accomplished via human dyes.

“What…” he said. “What happened to your brothers? What did my family do?”

They couldn’t be gone, they couldn’t, and a pit of dread swallowed him whole.

“What are you talking about?” Luffy tilted his head to the side. “Our brothers are fine. They’re gonna be so excited to see you!”

Luffy’s smile grew blurry, black spots overtaking his face.

“But… you said…” The next breath rattled in Sanji’s chest. “You said… they… my family… they… they took-”

A finger pressed against his lips.

“They took my Cook.”

Oh.

They were safe. He could rest, now.

It was him. It was all for him.

Distantly, he heard someone murmur, “Usopp, Nami, get Chopper.”

“Right!”

Luffy’s grip tightened, and Sanji groaned. He felt numb.

“What’s wrong with Sanji?” Luffy asked, voice shrill. “He’s fading.”

The smell of roses, dying and gentle.

“Human hearts give out when subject to stress,” Robin said quietly. A cool, wooden hand gripped his shoulder, snapping it into place with a dull pop and a flash of white-hot pain that he barely registered over the unbearable fullness in his chest. “They’re fragile little creatures, bodies easily manipulated. You can keep it beating, if you like. You need only his name.”

Sanji wanted to ask about Ace, about Sabo. He wanted to know what kind of adventures they’d been on that led to Luffy becoming a monarch. He wanted so much.

He’d made peace with his death, earlier. Now, with the sun on his face, he clung desperately to life.

Luffy’s forehead pressed against his, and the sensation of being untethered flooded through his soul. Except, this time, there was a hand clutching his ankle, keeping him from floating away.

His body stopped trembling, eyes unfocused. There was no pain, only sunlight, and the wind, and the sky.

“Don’t worry, Cook,” Luffy declared fervently. “I’m gonna take care of you.”

His breath was hot against Sanji’s ear.

“Blackleg Sanji,” his friend whispered, and he felt a tug. “Give me your heart.”

A hand slipped under the hem of his shirt and plunged into his chest with a sickening sound, long fingers searching through crimson viscera. They squeezed.

Pain. It should hurt, and it did, but only the echo.

Sanji’s heart pulsed in a rush of blood that thundered through his body like a bolt of lightning. The current rushed from his chest to his extremities, pain and euphoria interwining into the sensation of being alive.

He let out the gasp of a drowned man come to life.

Then, he started falling again into muted shades of gray.

“You need to keep going,” Zoro’s voice came distantly. “Human hearts beat fast.”

Pulling, tugging, ripping, and there was something red in Luffy’s hand when it emerged, glistening with a feeble twitch.

Sanji had seen a human heart before, but never one that still beat.

He should be dead. He should be very, very dead.

The Fae king’s hands closed around the organ rhythmically, and he’d never felt more alive.

His body could only shake, nerves shorted out as Luffy kept his heart pumping blood while his insides were outside. It was impossible, it was magic, it was the king of the Sun Court.

Sanji wasn’t floating amongst the clouds anymore. He was the storm.

“I’m here, I’m here!” Came a little voice, and was that a child? “Luffy, what happened?”

The little creature that toddled over to Sanji’s side, large bag in hand (hoof?) didn’t look anything like the nightmarish, otherworldly creatures that were described in terrified whispers by the guards outside his cell. They’d described forest spirits as huge, hulking beasts with bloodstained muzzles.

This one looked more like a baby reindeer than a monster. If Sanji had the ability to do more than suck in air and quiver with the adrenaline coursing violently through his blood, he’d likely coo.

“Chopper!” Luffy called out brightly, as though he wasn’t keeping Sanji alive between his palms. “Sanji’s hurt!”

“Scared to death, more like.” Zoro muttered. “Took in too much of our Haki at once.”

The term was unfamiliar. Another word for magic, maybe?

Doe-like eyes framed by stubby little antlers widened in Sanji’s peripheral, turning to face him with awe.

“The Sanji?” he asked, clapping little hooves together. “Your Sanji? The dead one?”

“Yup!”

There was a squeal and an “Out of my way, out of my way, your healer’s here!” before Chopper was bustling around his body, tearing away at Sanji’s old clothes and leaving his body bare for all onlookers to see.

Fae had very different ideas of modesty. He’d learnt that early-on with Luffy.

Careful hooves slowly traced pathways down Sanji’s torso, prodding into his skin. A soft tickling sensation flowed through his chest until it went cold and still. He heard a quiet hum as a hoof pressed just by his armpit.

It burned, hot tar gumming his innards.

The resulting scream sounded more like a shallow sigh.

“Oh, wow, his meridians are awful.” He heard the little creature say dimly. “No wonder his body gave out.”

Sanji knew intimately what hyperventilating felt like. It’d been a cruel companion many a day and night in his childhood, following him down into the dungeon. He’d just never tried to do it with so little air.

There was a gentle hushing sound above in conjunction with the squelch of his beating heart.

“Cook, relax.”

He couldn’t breathe.

Chopper made a sound of concern, sending buzzing magic through his pulse points, his shoulder, his neck, hammering through the blockages in energy with an unforgiving chisel.

There was a pause.

“Blackleg Sanji,” came Luffy’s command again. “Relax.”

He went limp, head lolling against Luffy’s thigh. His body felt like the strange, gelatinous mixture Zeff had made once with pig’s feet. A spot of drool dribbled over his chin; he couldn’t bring himself to care.

There was something he was supposed to be worried about.

Squelch. Squish. Squelch.

It wasn’t important. The sky was nice.

Sanji’s body floated with his mind, heedless of the bitter herbs poured past his tongue and massaged down his throat. He couldn’t perceive the energy now flowing gently through his blood in clean, neat pathways that thrummed with soft power.

There was no reaction to the heart buried back into his chest, beating steady and strong. He only sighed blissfully when deceptively strong arms hefted him up, nose tucked into the neck of a Fae king.

“Bring him here, Luffy.”

Cool water enveloped his skin. He floated in someone’s hold, and knew they would never let go.

“He should be okay as long as we keep him in the pool to keep healing,” Chopper said in a hushed tone. “You can bring him back now.”

“Blackleg Sanji,” Luffy said immediately. “Stop relaxing.”

Panic and fear waged a war against his feeble mind, body thrashing uncontrollably in the shallow water. Animalistic howls frothed at his lips.

No more, please!

“What’s happening? Cook?!”

“You moron!” Barked a woman. “Repeat exactly after me. I release you from my previous command.”

“I release you from my previous command?”

Water flooded his nose, burning down his throat.

“His name, invoke his name!”

“Blackleg Sanji, I release you from my previous command!”

Stillness.

He was so tired. The realm of unconsciousness beckoned at his weary body, cushioned by the weightlessness of water.

“Cook?”

But Luffy sounded so scared.

Sanji opened his eyes to the sight of the water submerging his body glowing with an unearthly light. Sprigs of herbs and flower petals floated alongside them. He could feel the light traveling through the shallow cuts on his skin, knitting together flesh and soaking deeper to the abused muscles below.

“’m okay, Lu,” Sanji said hoarsely. “Stop… stop your worrying. Moron.”

There were several creatures crowded around him, open concern painted on their faces. He only had eyes for one.

Though, he did hope the skeleton looming over the rest wasn’t the grim reaper come to take him. He looked kind, at least.

Luffy burrowed his face into Sanji’s neck with a fervent purr.

“You’re back,” he said with boy-like wonder. “You’re back.”

Gray spots danced in Sanji’s vision alongside the floating balls of light that danced around their shoulders.

He needed Luffy to know.

“I didn’t mean to break my promise,” he said through slack lips. “Judge found me. He… I tried to escape. I’m sorry.”

Luffy hummed, rubbing his cheek to Sanji’s. “Cook promised to return to me, right? He kept his promise, then.”

“My king,” Robin interrupted softly. “How would you like the issue of delivering the body to the royal family to be handled? It must be done as soon as possible, but we are happy to carry out the plan while you remain here.”

“I dunno. Nami?” Luffy glanced over his shoulder to the red-haired woman, who nodded.

She waded deeper into the water, scrutinizing him from head to toe. Sanji couldn’t help but blush.

“We have a couple options,” Nami said thoughtfully. “We can just honestly tell them that you’re keeping him. At least, I assume you don’t plan to give him back?”

Luffy growled in response, fingernails sharpening to points against Sanji’s shoulders.

“Yeah, yeah. Just making sure.” She sighed. “It might be smarter to make them think he’s dead for his own safety. We could give them his hair, like that nasty tradition of trophies humans use.”

Robin smiled eerily, teeth bright. “I can find a body, my king, of your Cook’s proportions. With enough fire, or perhaps acid, maybe poison, his features would be unrecognizable.”

If Sanji weren’t so sleepy, he’d be more concerned about that suggestion.

There was a nervous chuckle from the satyr. “I don’t want to ask how.”

“Perhaps not, Usopp.”

Nami rubbed the bridge of her nose. “I’ll work on finding a good human settlement for us to drop the human off at after he recovers, somewhere far from Germa. Maybe near the borders of the Summer Court, Vivi would be able to help-”

“No!” Luffy interrupted petulantly, trying to gather Sanji’s limp limbs all at once as though to spirit him away. “No, he’s not leaving! He’s my Cook!”

“Luffy, this is the Feywilds. He’d be safer with his own kind! We can even find that old man you said he was fond of, drop him off there.”

Zeff…

“No!!”

“Luffy-”

“No!!”

Zoro cleared his throat, and the clearing fell silent.

“Maybe,” he said simply, crossing his arms over a chiseled torso. “We should just ask the human what he wants to do.”

“Right, right!” Luffy touched his nose to Sanji’s, going cross-eyed. “Sanji wants to stay, right?”

There was too much going on. He was floating. His heart had been ripped out. He wasn’t dead. He was in a magical healing pool with the king of the Sun Court, who happened to be one of his most treasured people, someone he thought he’d never see again.

Zeff was okay…

“Huh?” He said dumbly.

Luffy’s lips were moving, but the sound was garbled, like his ears were under the surface of the water.

Sanji blinked once, then again, slower this time. His eyelids were so heavy.

“Sorry…” he whispered. “I don’t…”

There was a soft giggle in his ear, a featherlight kiss on his brow.

“Go to sleep, Cook.”

Sometimes, Sanji had gone to the edge of the forest just to rest without needing to look over his shoulder. The first time was an accident, his exhausted little body slipping into dreamland against Ace’s side.

He’d woken up with Luffy drooling on him, more refreshed than he’d been since before his mother died.

From then on, Sabo and Ace made it their personal mission to make sure he slept despite Sanji’s protests that he wanted to play, cajoling him into beds of leaves and assuring him that nobody, nobody would hurt him while he slumbered.

That they’d kill anyone who tried went unsaid.

Sabo and Ace weren’t there, now, but Luffy was. He could finally, finally sleep.

Chapter Text

“Sanji, my love, it’s time to wake up.”

He burrowed his face deeper into his mother’s lap with a sleepy groan, earning soft laughter. Long fingers ran through his hair.

“I know,” Sora smiled, cupping her son’s baby-round cheek up to face her. “I wish you could sleep the day away, dearest.”

She was so thin, he thought drowsily, and so pale. Her hair, once the same gleaming gold as his own, had grown thin and dull.

His mother was still the most beautiful person he’d ever met, prettier than the Fae princesses in the stories she read him.

Sanji hissed when Sora’s finger rubbed against a bump on his head, and she jolted like he’d burned her, apologies tumbling from bloodless lips.

“Did your father do that to you?” She asked, eyes sad.

He shook his head. “Yonji didn’t like it when I didn’t let him hurt Chuji.”

“Your little mouse friend?”

Sanji nodded, and her thin arms enveloped him tightly.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered. “That I could not protect you as you deserve. You and your siblings both.”

He didn’t understand. His brothers were perfect; they had everything Sanji didn’t, including their father’s love.

“It’s okay!” Sanji lied. He needed her to smile again. “It doesn’t hurt anymore. Besides, it’s my fault for not being stronger.”

Sora’s breath hitched, and he wondered if he’d said the wrong thing.

“No,” she whispered, pressing a fervent kiss to his hair. “No, my son. This was not your fault. You are strong, stronger than you know. And someday, you will be surrounded by people who love you as much as you love them.”

“And you’ll be there, too, right?” Sanji asked, grinning. “We can bring Reiju, and even my brothers, if you want!”

He didn’t want to bring his brothers, not really. But if it would make his mother happy, he’d do anything.

Her soft smile faltered.

“I wish it could be so,” she said, and gently set her son back to look upon his face adoringly, tracing her finger over a curling brow. “But know this; even if I am gone, I will always be with you.”

“You are my heart, Sanji, and all my love.”

Sanji, wake up!

A finger poked at his cheek, roughly tumbling him from his mother’s cool embrace.

“Sanji! Cook, wake up, I’m bored!”

“Shuddup,” Sanji mumbled. He turned his cheek further into the cool embrace of a soft pillowcase, sighing blissfully. “’s not sunset yet.”

The pillow was strange; had he brought it with him from the castle? Didn’t matter, anyway. Ace or Sabo would be the ones to wake him before sundown; Luffy’s internal clock was not to be trusted.

“Wake up! I wanna talk to Cook, it’s been so long!”

“Luffy!” A woman admonished sharply. “Chopper said to let him rest. He’s still weak.”

The voice was unfamiliar. Or was it?

The dungeons. His father. The sacrifice, the duel, Luffy-

Sanji shot upright, eliciting a startled shriek from the woman (Nami, if he remembered correctly from hazy memories). A colorful woven blanket pooled at his naked waist, luxuriously soft.

His heart. Beating, squelching in Luffy’s hands.

When Sanji desperately clutched at his chest, his fingers met warm flesh, whole and unharmed. Glancing down, there was only a reddened handprint left behind.

He should be in pain. His body had been sliced and slammed to pieces, but there was only a strange numbness that pervaded his limbs.

“What the hell?” Sanji whispered fervently.

A solid weight slammed into his side with a gleeful shout, Luffy’s face suddenly too close to his own. His hair was raven-dark again rather than the strange white curls he’d sported earlier.

“Sanji’s awake!” He crowed, vibrating in delight.

“Be careful, moron,” Nami chided, though she made no move to rescue Sanji from his plight. “He just had his heart stop. Which was… regrettable, to put it mildly.”

There was a noncommittal grunt from the corner of the room, and Sanji glanced around his surroundings to meet its green-haired source, lounging lazily in the corner.

Those were probably as close to apologies as one could get from a Fae.

The walls of the hut surrounding them were made of the same delicately woven branches that he remembered seeing Luffy and his court sitting at prior to his… accidental execution. The bed he lay in was more of a large bird’s nest, gently curving to the slope of his body.

This must be the work of the dryad woman he’d met. Robin?

“Sanji’s here now,” Luffy said in a quieter tone, palm splaying on the handprint over Sanji’s heart. A perfect fit. “I would never hurt Sanji on purpose.”

He shrugged. “It was a misunderstanding. You thought I was dead, and I didn’t exactly try to argue for my innocence in the matter.”

Being physically and mentally torn apart by the Sun Court was certainly in the top three list of most horrible experiences Sanji had survived during his surprisingly short lifetime, but at least this one had a happy ending.

Sanji could never be scared of Luffy, even if it killed him.

“I know,” Luffy said, and the words landed heavy. “But it won’t happen again. I promise.”

The air between them sparked, a vow sealed.

He softened. “Alright.”

“So, you’re the infamous Cook Luffy always talks about,” Nami chimed in, eyeing him shrewdly. “I must admit, I expected you’d be… bigger.”

In a way, it was nice to know that he hadn’t been forgotten, that he’d been loved enough to remain known even amongst those he’d never met.

He did have some concerns about exactly what Luffy had told his friends (because that’s what they had to be; Luffy didn’t keep casual acquaintances) about him, though.

Sanji gave her a strained smile. “My formative years were spent in a dungeon underground, ma’am. Lack of food and sunlight aren’t conducive to human growth.”

Her teasing grin dropped. “You were imprisoned for that long?”

Luffy’s fingers rubbed over Sanji’s wrists, as though to assure them both that the bindings were gone.

“Cook needs meat, lots of meat!” He said firmly. “Then he’ll get big and strong like me!”

Sanji politely didn’t point out that while he was certainly taller than he had been, his friend was still a beanpole.

“On that note, Sanji,” Nami clapped her hands together seriously. “Do not eat anything made by any one of us. You can eat raw ingredients we give you, like fruit, and cook your own food, but you can’t eat anything prepared.”

“What happens if I do?” Sanji asked curiously. He’d heard more than one legend about Fae food.

Zoro opened his one eye languidly. “You explode. Guts everywhere.”

Sanji startled.

“Zoro!”

The man snickered, heavy wings shaking with laughter.

Sanji hoped the rude gesture he shot him in return was universal amongst more than just humans. Based on the way Zoro’s cackles grew louder, it was.

Nami rubbed the bridge of her nose. “No, you don’t explode, you just become tied to the Feywilds. You won’t be able to leave for very long without weakening, same as us.”

“Which is why,” Luffy said eagerly, pulling at Sanji’s cheeks. “You should eat meat! Then you have to stay forever!”

“Luffy, we talked about this, you can’t just-”

“Leave it,” Zoro interrupted, getting to his feet with a yawn. “The human has to stay for a couple cycles, anyway.”

“Or else Sanji’s heart’ll stop again!”

Sanji blanched. “Pardon?”

“Your body’s still relying on Luffy’s magic and Chopper’s care to keep it alive,” Nami explained impatiently, throwing Zoro a peeved look. “Proximity is important for that.”

“… I see.”

She sighed. “Don’t worry. As long as you stay near for a few of your human weeks, you’ll live.”

“Sanji,” Luffy whined, lingering on the last syllable as he draped himself over Sanji’s shoulder. “I want food! Feed me!”

“Luffy, don’t be rude, he probably-”

“I can cook?” Sanji interrupted, heart in his throat.

It’d been so long. Daydreaming through the steps of a recipe wasn’t the same as standing at a hot stove, pan in hand, serving food to customers and loved ones.

He was also hungry, of course. But eating didn’t compare to the bliss of making a meal with his own hands.

Luffy’s hands cupped his cheeks, forcing him to meet the boy’s face.

“Sanji can cook whenever he wants,” he said sternly. “Sanji is the official Cook of my court!”

“He means that literally,” Nami cut in dryly. “Luffy had a very strict rule against hiring a court chef despite the massive amount of food he eats. Believe me, we begged. He said the position could only ever be held by you.”

The thought made him feel strangely warm even if the sentiment was ridiculous for a dead man, a soft smile ticking up the corners of his lips.

“I want to cook,” Sanji nodded enthusiastically. “Now.”

“C’mon, I’ll take you to our ship!” Luffy said gleefully, nearly dragging Sanji from the nest-like bed despite his protests.

Cultural differences in modesty aside, Sanji was not going to stand up naked in front of a woman he barely knew.

Surprisingly, it was Zoro who seemed to catch onto his reservations first, shucking off a loose green robe and tossing it his way with bare muscles rippling.

They were, Sanji would admit, impressive.

“There’s more back at the ship.” Zoro grunted as he slipped the garment on.

It was strangely silky compared to the coarse and heavy fabric used by Germa citizens. Even cinched tightly around his waist like a tunic, the robe still hung loosely off his thin shoulders. The ties in the back, Sanji observed, would allow the fabric to drape over Zoro’s wings.

“You keep saying ship,” He noted. “Are we… not in the Sun Court?”

Zoro snorted.

Nami gave him a so-so motion of her delicate hand. “Kind of. We’re actually in the Spring Court right now. Their king is Luffy’s mentor; Shanks even offered the throne to him. Bit of a lazy man, if you ask me.”

“It’s not fair,” Luffy complained loudly. “Shanks gets to use his real name. Why do I have to go by Nika?”

“Because I’m in charge of keeping you from making stupid decisions.”

That was a full-time job, then. Sanji hoped she was well-compensated.

Nami nodded sagely at his thoughtful expression. “Put shortly, the Sun Court follows Luffy. We travel on the major waterways and coastlines. I mean, can you imagine trying to keep him in a castle? We’d go insane.”

Coastlines meant oceans.

“Have you-”

“We haven’t found the All-Blue yet,” Luffy chirped, successfully dragging Sanji to his feet and bracing him when his numb legs gave out. “But we’re gonna find it soon, I can feel it!”

When we get to the Feywilds, the first thing I wanna do is hunt down the All-Blue!

He hadn’t forgotten Sanji’s dream, then. It was only a fairy tale, really, but Sanji had believed, finding a kindred soul in Zeff. There had to be a place where the four oceans separating the Seasonal Courts met with the human realm, resulting in all fish both mundane and magical co-existing in one place.

“R-right,” Sanji said breathlessly, allowing Luffy to haul him out of the hut at a jog despite the dizzy headrush sudden movement brought.

No longer faced with his imminent demise, it was easier to take in the true grandeur of the forest around them. There was no gray to be found amongst the spectrum of hues.

Luffy wouldn’t need to force him to stay. It was everything he’d ever dreamed of.

Distantly, he heard the dulcet tones of a violin. The melody swelled and crested with the birdsong that accompanied it, calling him like a siren’s song. Reiju’s stories of the Fae luring humans in with music didn’t seem so far-fetched, now.

His bare feet stumbled over rocks and branches, slender limbs unusually unwieldly. There was a distant ache in his muscles, the same burn he felt after a solid workout in his cell (at least, as much of a workout as he could manage).

Sanji resolutely did not squawk when a hulking arm snatched him around the waist and threw him over a broad shoulder. Even upside-down, he could see the familiar batwings.

“What the hell?!” He shrieked. “Put me down!”

Zoro grunted, not even breaking pace when Luffy threw himself over the Fae’s other shoulder with unrestrained glee.

“Chopper said no strenuous activity,” He said shortly, like that explained everything. Chopper had been the little forest spirit, if his addled brain remembered correctly. “His healing magic is the only reason why you’re not currently screaming in agony.”

“I’m fine, now put me down!” Sanji bucked, swatting ineffectively at the Fae’s arm.

He wasn’t about to admit that his heart was taking longer than he’d like to drop from the racing beat it’d gained upon running behind Luffy. Trembling limbs dangled limply down Zoro’s back as he panted.

“I said… unhand me, brute…”

Zoro paused. “Luffy. Your human’s doing it again.”

“Right!”

A warm hand slipped under Sanji’s jaw. They were slightly sticky. Cool magic streamed from his pulsepoint, flowing in a river through his body and branching to his fingers and toes. He could feel it in his chest, soothing waves that had him going boneless.

“What’re… what’re you doing?” He slurred.

Luffy giggled. “Magic!”

He breathed in, then out. Time passed. How much, he couldn’t guess. It felt like he’d just had the best rest of his life.

It’d been a long time since he’d been carried. He’d been dragged to and from the dungeons, of course, but that hardly counted. No, the last person to carry him was Ace. It’d been after the Changeling boy had discovered Sanji to be hiding a sprained ankle, courtesy of his brothers.

Sanji should be more embarrassed about the situation as a whole. But considering Zoro had single-handedly plunged him into madness and left him bawling like a newborn babe as his heart gave out, he didn’t have much more dignity to lose.

“How far away is this ship of yours?” He asked curiously, resigning himself to his fate as a sack of flour over a strange demonic Fae’s shoulder.

“Dunno!”

Zoro let out a huff that swelled under Sanji’s cheek. “Should be there soon.”

There was a beat.

“Hey, where’s Nami?”

Zoro swore, and Sanji had the feeling they were very, very lost.

Chapter Text

By the time they reached the biggest boat Sanji had ever seen, he was about ready to throw himself in the river. Between Luffy’s constant stream of chatter and Zoro’s lack thereof, it was a miracle he hadn’t done so already.

It would be one thing if Luffy was catching Sanji up on how Ace and Sabo were doing, how exactly he’d become king of whole-ass court, et cetera et cetera. Luffy, however, had taken it upon himself to describe at long length the weird fish he saw after breakfast yesterday. In excruciating detail. For hours.

Gods, he’d missed him.

He was set down on his feet with a surprising level of gentleness, though he still made sure to give Zoro a foul look.

“Welcome to the Thousand Sunny!” Luffy crowed eagerly. “It’s our home!”

The ship was anchored on the bank of a river; how the hell they managed such a feat in running water, Sanji could only guess (the answer was almost certainly magic). It was beautiful, with a lion figurehead that resembled a sunflower more than a majestic beast.

He felt selfish for wishing they were on the ocean and not a river; his first dream had been to someday visit the sea. It was Luffy who told him to dream bigger.

Still, he’d never seen water so perfectly blue, rippling and teeming with life. The urge to take a dip was overwhelming even if he’d almost certainly be swept away by the current.

“Well, if it isn’t our wayward trio,” Robin called out from her spot at the ship’s railing, flashing them a bemused smile. “Nami returned some time ago and retired to her room. If I were you, I would not disturb her.”

Sanji didn’t hear Zoro’s terse response, too caught up in staring at the massive creature of stone and flesh that stood beside the dryad woman. His broad smile split a face of granite, studded with veins of colorful minerals that sparkled in the sun.

Based on the way his skin puckered unevenly against the rubble, he didn’t think it was natural. At least, he’d never heard of any Fae made of both rock and blood. He’d also never seen someone wearing only a skimpy pair of underwear for adornment, but that was beside the point.

“Oh, super!” The rock man exclaimed, slinging an arm around his companion’s shoulders. “It’s good to see you up and walking again, lil’ human! You can call me Franky!”

Despite the likely crushing amount of weight resting on her body, Robin only leaned further into his embrace with a dreamy sigh.

“Don’t worry, lil’ guy!” Franky shouted with a wave. “I’ll get the gangplank lowered in a jiffy-”

If another friend of Luffy’s called him little, he was going to throw manners to the wind and punt someone in the river. Not Nami or Robin, of course. He wasn’t an animal.

Luffy uttered the frankly terrifying words of, “Don’t worry, I got him!” before wrapping a too-long limb around Sanji’s waist and slingshotting them both on deck.

He certainly wasn’t bitterly jealous of the way Zoro glided after them on stable wings.

Trying to regain at least a scrap of composure, rumpled and dressed in another man’s oversized robe, Sanji stood up from the grass (what kind of ship had a lawn?) and brushed off his legs.

The air was laden with citrus. They were in an entire grove, Sanji realized, trees of tangerines heavy with plump fruits more vibrant than any he’d ever seen imported to Germa.

There were so many things he could make with them. Tangy tangerine chicken, sweet tangerine cake, tart tangerine lemonade, smoky tangerine pork… and any leftover rind could be made into a delicious marmalade, perfect to spread on a slice of crusty bread-

A bony finger gently poked him on the cheek, and Sanji would forever deny the startled squeak that escaped him.

The skeleton it was attached to gave him a nod and a jovial wave. If he was smiling, Sanji certainly couldn’t tell.

“Brook!” Luffy pressed his cheek to the skull as though it were real flesh and blood. He supposed his friend would cuddle with anything. “Play me music! We need to celebrate, we’re gonna have a big feast! Sanji’s gonna cook for us right now!”

Guess that explained where the haunting song had come from.

“Of course, of course!” Brook’s was hypnotically melodic. “But first, shouldn’t we give our guest some time to tour the ship, perhaps take a break to fuel himself? Of course, I wouldn’t know, as I have no stomach!”

The ensuing laugh was stranger than Luffy’s.

“No, I’m fine,” Sanji said quickly. “I can cook. I want to cook.”

He hadn’t cooked for years, and he wasn’t about to let some (very kind, granted) musically-inclined skeleton keep him from it now.

Robin, the absolute angel, hummed. “I get the sense, Brook, that cooking is to him as music is to you.”

“I see!” Brook gave a bow and a flourish, ushering Sanji further in. “Then please, do not allow me to keep you. I look forward to experiencing the wonders of your craft, my friend.”

Did that mean the skeleton could eat?

Luffy whooped, and kicked a door open with his sandal-clad foot. “This is your galley, Cook!”

It was beautiful. Walls of warm wood, granite countertops that sparkled in the soft orbs of light floating overhead. The kitchen connected openly to a wide dining area with over a dozen intricately-carved seats and even a wide cushioned sofa for lounging.

The ship’s chef would be able to cook while also spending time with his crew. Somehow, Sanji had the feeling it was designed with him in mind.

It was perfect.

Sanji swung open a cupboard that blasted him with cold air, revealing frozen meats and goods that would stay unspoiled without the need to quickly dry or cure them. Every fruit was ripe and perfect, spices he’d never even heard of tickling his nostrils with complex aromas.

Filling his arms with all manners of ingredients, Sanji began cooking for the first time since his father had condemned him to life in a cell.

He started deboning a strange, turquoise fish with quick, precise movements using a ceramic knife. It was the same kind Zeff had always used. For a moment, Sanji worried that he would be too far out of practice.

His mind spouted a dozen recipes, and his hands followed with surety. Even after all this time, he was still a Cook.

The recipes he selected were filling, high in energy and nutrients If Luffy was anything like the boy he’d been so many years ago, he’d require a massive amount of proteins and carbs to keep his body going at the speed it did.  He was careful only to let the slightest bit of the stranger ingredients touch his tongue to test their flavor profiles; he’d have to be careful about how much he ate after going without for so long.

Leaving everyone not only satisfied but nourished would always be his goal as a cook.

“Sanji!” Luffy called out. “Watch this!”

The boy glowed, hair leeching of color and eyes going crimson. With a stretch of his arms, the air shifted with a charged energy that rose up high and settled into the ceiling. Impossibly, wood turned into open air, sunlight streaming down to warm Sanji’s face.

Somehow, he knew that the ship looked exactly the same on the outside as it did moments ago. There had to be a roof over their head; he didn’t hear the rushing of river water like he did back on deck. Yet, Luffy had created an entire sky.

He really was free, he realized. Sanji’s eyes grew wet enough that he had to set the blade down, lest he slice himself.

“Zoro,” He heard Luffy say over his shoulder, and he hadn’t even realized the man followed them in. “Leave us for a bit, okay?”

There was a soft grunt. The door swung shut behind them, and they were alone.

He held a hand over his mouth to stifle his hitching breaths; he would not cry. When skinny arms turned him around, Sanji latched on tight and didn’t let go.

Luffy’s ensuing purrs rumbled deep in his chest, vibrating in Sanji’s embrace like a pleased cat.

It’d been so long. He’d lost so much time, rotting away in a dungeon underground.

“Thank you.” He murmured. It didn’t matter if it meant he’d owe the Fae a favor. If Luffy asked it of him, Sanji would happily give his life.

With a beaming grin, Luffy plucked the ratty straw hat off his head and deftly slipped the cord around Sanji’s neck. That was good; he didn’t think he’d be able to withstand anything on his head. It would take some time to forget the sensation of a cage.

Maybe forever.

“There! That’s better! Now Sanji’s part of my court!”

He had the feeling the accessory was more than a hat, at least to Luffy.

Sanji reached between his shoulder blades to brush against its brim. “I’m not sure I know what this means.”

Luffy’s eyes sparkled. “You will.”

A knock at the door startled Sanji out of Luffy’s reach, but the other only grinned.

“Usopp!”

“Hey, new guy!” Said satyr shoved through the door with a bright smile, a massive pile of silken garments in his arms. “Got some clothes for you, Zoro told us humans get cold! Nami and I altered them, hopefully they fit. Actually, I’m positive they will. You know, I was once the master weaver amongst a village of weaving gods above the highest mountaintops where clouds were spun for thread-”

Sanji knew the story was false; it was simply impossible. Yet, the way the tale spun from Usopp’s lips created an image so vivid that he found himself nodding along despite his initial skepticism.

His mother once told him that satyrs were master storytellers, whispering honeyed words to plants and people alike. She would’ve liked to meet one, he thought; Sora always loved his own embellished recollections.

“Thanks,” he said truthfully, cutting Usopp off politely. “Can you set them over on the table for me? I’ve got fish on my hands.”

Usopp’s brow furrowed as he gently set the clothes aside.

“Sanji,” he said seriously as Luffy dug through the fabric with glee. “Have you ever been warned on how to speak to the Fae before? Giving thanks and wording questions as favors like that… someone could really take advantage of you, you know?”

Snorting, Sanji set a pan on the stove with a drizzle of olive oil. “If you’re with Luffy, I think I can trust you.”

“Do you really trust Luffy’s judgement that much? I’m not sure that’s a good idea, new guy.”

Sure, his friend was silly, naïve, and impulsive. He also had the uncanny ability to look past a person’s rough exterior into their very soul.

Not to mention, “Ace and Sabo would’ve killed you if they had any doubts.”

Usopp nodded thoughtfully. “That’s fair. Those two are terrifying. It’s a good thing you know them already, or you’d have to go through their threats of turning you to ashes if you even look at Luffy wrong. Chopper got a pass, of course.”

He’d only seen the brothers’ true rage once, when a man in a drunken rage caught Sanji unawares at the edge of the forest. The Germa soldier had held a knife to Sanji’s back, demanding that the boy take him to the Fae he’d been cavorting with. Said he had a bone to pick with the hellish creatures.

Sanji refused, then cried out when the tip of the blade drew blood. He could still hear the man’s shrieks of agony as his skin blistered and bubbled under Ace’s protective ire while Sabo shepherded him deeper into the trees. They’d fussed over him for a week after.

The clearing smelled like burning flesh for longer than that, strangely meaty.

His fish sizzled deliciously when set it in the hot pan, fragrant herbs perfuming the air. He turned to slice more meat, to prepare the bread dough and roast a pile of vegetables (not even Luffy could survive on protein alone).

“Whoa, hey, you can really cook!” Usopp exclaimed, cloven hooves clopping on the floor as he made his way to the counter.

He moved with grace and gentleness. He’d shown Sanji nothing but kindness. And when the satyr’s arm brushed against his side, Sanji flinched violently enough to send a porcelain bowl clattering to the floor.

It shattered along with the final dregs of his dignity.

Sanji’s cheeks burned. “Shit, I’m so sor-”

“Don’t worry about it,” Usopp said easily, too easily in his opinion. He bent over to carefully scoop broken shards of dishware into his hands.  “Nothing owed. You have good reason to be a little jumpy.”

“Still, I shouldn’t have-”

“Cook!” Luffy called out. “Look at this, it’s just like Sanji’s flowers!”

The tunic shoved between himself and Usopp’s concerned face was the same pale shade of blue as the blooms he’d planted at his mother’s grave, delicately woven. It shimmered in the sunlight, deceptively simple yet ethereally elegant.

“The king decreed those flowers under his possession,” Zoro had said. “To destroy one means a fate worse than death.”

Sanji’s flowers, Luffy proclaimed.

“Hey, great choice!” Usopp chimed in. “We enchanted everything to keep you warm or cool according to the limits Zoro told us, so you can wear whatever you want in any weather!”

What reason did Zoro have for knowing a human’s body temperature?

“It’s beautiful,” Sanji breathed out, carefully keeping his hands close to his chest to avoid getting fish guts on the delicate garment. “But I couldn’t accept something so-”

Usopp shook his head. “It’s freely given. Not as a gift, but as a shared resource amongst friends. You won’t owe us anything.”

Friends. That was certainly a new concept.

Still, “It’s not that!” Sanji was quick to reassure. “It’s just that I couldn’t-”

“Luffy will just force it on, you know. I hate to say it, but you don’t really have a choice.”

Said boy-king grinned broadly with too many teeth. It was a good point.

Sanji nodded slowly. “…I need to finish cooking, first.”

Luffy whooped. “Dinner!”

He lost track of time after that- not because of some Fae-induced coma like before, but rather due to the sheer joy that the routine of cooking a good meal brought him. Sanji felt light as he hurried round the kitchen in his bare feet and Zoro’s sweaty robe, fueled only by the fruit Usopp insisted he snack on as he worked.

Within hours, the table was stacked high with meat so tender it fell off the bone, piles of honey-glazed carrots and crusty bread. Buttery mashed tubers were dolloped high alongside trays of perfectly-seared filets with a tangy citrus sauce. He didn’t forget the sweet honey cakes Luffy was so fond of, either.

It was perfect.

While Luffy ran off to alert the others (he’d been bribed with several meat pies), Sanji ducked into the pantry to change. The skin on his arms was gloriously clean under Zoro’s sleeves; it was worth the mortification of his unconscious body being bathed. Even his hair had been cut to the same simple style he’d worn as a boy, his fingers snagging at the occasional little braid. He marveled at the lack of bruises on his body, the once flaking and rubbed-raw flesh of his wrists smooth and supple again.

The tunic and leggings were as light as butterfly wings on his shoulders, shimmering delicately in the glow of the floating orbs above. Despite the thin material, a gentle warmth suffused his limbs.

Even in his days as a not-yet-disowned princeling, he’d never owned anything so fine.

He snuck back into the galley just as the last of the Sun Court court trickled in, jovial and loud. It was a far cry from the executioners he’d met before.

“Sanji!” A little voice cried, and there was suddenly a reindeer pulling at the hem of his tunic with big, sweet eyes. “How are you feeling? Does anything hurt?”

He wasn’t fooled by the cuteness. Chopper was likely just as capable of tearing a man apart as the rest of his court. Sanji also couldn’t help but set a gentle hand over the creature’s fuzzy hat.

“I’m much better, thank you. I had a very good healer looking after me.”

The ensuing squeal and half-hearted protests earned him a positive nod from Robin; he chose well.

Death likely awaited anyone who treated her healer unkindly.

There were little signs of seats being adapted to the individual; Chopper boosted himself up into a high chair, and Zoro’s had no back. Luffy followed Sanji’s gaze towards the massive chair with a comfortably padded cushion and grinned.

“We have one more member of my court that you haven’t met!” He said, pointing at the empty seat. “His name’s Jinbe, he’s super strong! He’s busy doing boring deep lima peas stuff with our friends. Like Ace and Sabo!”

It was a good thing he was fluent in Luffy.

“…do you mean diplomacy?”

“Maybe!”

Over Luffy’s shoulder, Zoro gave him a nod.

Before he could attempt to serve any of the ladies’ drinks, Luffy’s arm stretched like rubber to snag Sanji’s arm and drag him into the adjacent chair. It was only Robin’s sprouting branches that kept the table from being jostled too badly.

On Luffy’s right, Zoro rolled his eyes and muttered something under his breath.

Sanji’s face flushed scarlet. Sure, he was woefully lacking in knowledge of how Fae courts ran, but he was pretty sure the seats next to the king were supposed to be reserved for important people.

“Luffy-”

The boy-king glanced over with an entire roasted bird already stuffed in his mouth, cheeks deformed and stretching into impossible slopes. It reminded him of the snake a visiting mercenary gifted to his father, with a jaw that unlatched entirely to slowly engulf a dead rabbit.

He’d given Chuji to Ace immediately after, begging him not to let Luffy eat the little creature. There were too many alley cats in town for him to risk the Baratie. The nights in his room in the castle were lonelier without his friend, but Sanji couldn’t bring himself to regret it.

Sanji shuddered at the sight, and Luffy’s lips stretched into a contented grin. “Nevermind.”

With delighted exclamations, the rest of the table fought to scoop food on their plates against the fury of Luffy’s greedy hands. Sanji couldn’t help but preen under the praise, just a little.

He was a damn good cook. There was no sense in denying it.

Nami let out a long-suffering sigh, spearing a carrot with her fork before wielding the tongs threateningly towards Luffy’s fingers.

“Don’t let Luffy get to you, Sanji,” she said, popping it in her mouth. “That’s just…”

She froze, the freckles on her elfish face scrunching with her nose in concentration. “…huh.”

Sanji promptly debated throwing himself off the boat.

Chapter Text

A cold chill spread up Sanji’s arms at Nami’s declaration despite the enchanted garment he wore. He’d tasted everything, ensured that the spicy foods weren’t too hot, the sweet glazes offset by the tang of tangerines, the salty dishes expertly seasoned with herbs and seared to perfection.

Oh, gods, did the Fae have different tastebuds from humans, and he’d served them an entire feast of utter horseshit?

“Ish’ ‘ummy, ‘anji!” Luffy crowed, spraying crumbs over the table.

That wasn’t reassuring. He’d eat anything.

“Is it… I can fix it?” Sanji asked. Zeff had taught him how to recover any dish, how to avoid waste. There was too much food here for him to eat himself in time before it went bad, he had to save this, he couldn’t fuck this up, not now, when Luffy and Ace and Sabo were right here-

“No, no,” Nami actually did stab Luffy’s outstretched palm this time. “It’s the best thing I’ve ever tasted. It’s just… you are human, right? You definitely smell human.”

Usopp nodded in agreement, cheeks stuffed like a chipmunk.

Oh, gods, did he smell bad?

“It’s super!” The rock-man banged his fists on the table, startling Chopper from inhaling an entire honey-glazed bun.

Robin examined her plate closely, eyes sparkling. “Indeed, this is fascinating. The magical qualities in these dishes are most intriguing; I’ve never seen such seamless and powerful integration before, let alone the quality of the dish itself.”

“I must agree,” Brook hummed, and how the hell was he eating? “It’s most delicious, and I feel much refreshed. I would love to discuss our respective crafts sometime, if you would be willing.”

Sanji blinked. “Huh?”

“Food’s magic.” Zoro said simply between swigs of alcohol, like that explained everything.

“Huh?”

“Tell me, little one,” Robin’s gaze pinned him in place like a bug on a wall. “What were your intentions while cooking? Try to be specific, if you can.”

He resisted the urge to hide under the table. At least everyone was still eating?

“I just… wanted to make something that left everyone feeling… energized, I guess.”

Now that he said it out loud, the sentiment fell a bit lamely.

“I see,” Robin nodded thoughtfully, then pointed her chin towards Sanji’s empty plate. “Before I discuss my hypothesis, I would recommend serving yourself before our dear king polishes it off. I would serve you myself, of course, but I would hope you’ve been given the warnings about that particular detail already.”

Franky smiled dreamily. “She’s super smart, lil’ guy. You can trust anything she says.”

Numbly, Sanji carefully scooped a small serving of potatoes on his plate. He hadn’t eaten anything more than dungeon-served gruel in years, after all. Immediately jumping into full servings of rich food risked literally shocking his body. Taste-testing everything while he cooked was toeing the line already.

Wide eyes unblinking, Luffy slowly lifted a drumstick towards Sanji’s plate as their tablemates became distracted in conversation. For a moment, he considered letting it happen. Taking a bite of food served to him by the Fae and becoming tethered to this place, even if it made him sick.

He thought of Zeff, of course. But harboring a runaway prince (technically king, even if Judge would make sure nobody ever knew the difference) would put the old man in danger. In contrast, the Sun Court was already at war with Germa; his continued presence made no difference in that.

Sanji wanted to stay.

Before he could reach to take the meat from Luffy’s greasy fingers, however, Zoro’s hand clamped around his king’s wrist. Sanji fought to keep his expression neutral.

“Don’t.” Zoro warned softly, glancing between them both.

He quietly dug into his meager portion of self-served potatoes and pretended not to sulk as Luffy pouted and groaned. It was perfectly seasoned and wonderfully creamy, and nearly impossible not to start cramming into his empty stomach.

The food left him feeling nourished, but no less than his meals normally did. It’d been a long time since he’d cooked for himself, but it didn’t taste any more or less magical than he remembered.

When he looked up from his scraped-empty plate, Robin’s raised eyebrow let him know she’d seen the whole interaction, including the way his hand had twitched towards Luffy’s outstretched offering. Thankfully, she didn’t comment on it.

“In short, little human, your food reflects the intent you put behind it,” she explained serenely, weaving her fingers together, “This meal has left us in unusually energized spirits. I believe our Luffy may have bestowed a gift or blessing upon you. It’s not uncommon for us to grant humans portions of our power, after all.”

It certainly wasn’t. Technically, the abilities of Sanji’s brothers were a gift of the Fae, even if they came at too steep a cost. Stone hearts kept the blood in their bodies beating, but without any passion or love.

Zoro shook his head. “There’s no way. I would’ve seen him do it.”

Did that mean the Mosshead was watching him sleep?

“I would find it easy to believe our Luffy would bleed excess magic during even his childhood in the human realm, don’t you think? It takes time for magic to mature in a child’s body, and our king is certainly… motivated by food, I would say.”

As one, the table turned to look at Luffy, who gave them a blank look.

“Huh?”

“My king,” Robin said patiently as Nami’s forehead thudded against the surface of the table. “Did you at any point give some of your magic to your Cook? Perhaps related to his food or cooking?”

Luffy hummed, scratching his chin. He brightened. Sanji leaned in.

“I dunno!”

He didn’t know what he expected.

“I see,” Robin’s soft smile didn’t even falter. “Regardless, Sanji, I would love to run some experiments testing the limits of what you can do. It stands to believe that your food may be even capable of healing, and I am curious of whether it may be able to cause harm.”

“No.” Sanji said sharply, then winced, especially when Robin’s gaze turned assessing.

He tried again, softer this time, “I apologize for my tongue, madam. I just mean… I couldn’t make food that would hurt someone. It goes against everything a cook stands for.”

“I see. You live up to the title Luffy calls you, then. He certainly did not exaggerate in your skills.”

“We can wait to figure out how exactly our king fucked this poor human up later,” Nami said, rubbing her temples with a sigh. “Right now, I’m more concerned about the way Luffy left an open loophole for Germa to attack.”

Deliver the king of Germa to face one of our own in combat, and the Fae will not strike the next blow.

Germa delivered, and the Fae couldn’t strike until they’d been struck first. It wasn’t only the Sun Court Luffy had effectively paralyzed from launching a full-scale attack, it was the entire realm.

“Shit.” Sanji said emphatically, the word slipping from his lips.

Nami pointed at him with a tart-filled fork. “He gets it.”

Several creatures spoke at once.

“I can help build some super defenses-”

“Hold my drink, Usopp, I’m about to commit regicide-”

“Wait, Nami-”

“Perhaps a song to calm us down?”

“Ooh, Robin, can you pass me more of the honey things?”

“Of course, dear healer.”

An intense wave of bloodlust rolled over Sanji’s body, slamming into his shoulders and pinning him to his seat with the force of a savage wolf. He felt his breath start to quicken, stuttering in his chest.

The drums, beating, thrumming, hunting-

Sanji gasped, and the world snapped back like a bow released. His vision grayed.

Breathe in, breathe out. He felt too hot, too cold, sweat beading on his brow.

“Sanji!” Chopper’s cry came with the pounding of hooves, and there was a rush of soothing energy down his veins coming from two hands, one cloven and the other rubbery flesh.

Breathe. Just breathe.

He didn’t know when he ended up draped on Luffy’s lap like a swooning maiden. He was supposed to be stronger than this.

Weak, spineless, failure-

A horrified voice said, “Shit, I didn’t mean-”

“I know.” Luffy responded to Zoro cheerfully, fingers combing through Sanji’s hair. “Just don’t do it again, okay?”

“I’m fine,” Sanji croaked, gently extracting Luffy’s hands to sit up. He slumped bonelessly in his chair. “But what the hell is it that you two keep doing?”

Zoro’s gaze roved carefully up and down his body like a cat studying a piece of meat. “Haki.”

Sanji glowered. “And what,” he asked through gritted teeth. “Is that?”

“A magical aura, if you will,” Robin chimed in, ever-knowledgeable. “Unique to the core of its user. When applied with force, it can be used to intimidate a foe past the point of incapacitation, as you’ve personally experienced. With a friend, it’s more of a protective sensation; it’s common for Haki-wielders to use such abilities to comfort their young.”

She continued, “When spread far, one’s Haki can detect even the beat of a butterfly’s wing within the vicinity. If concentrated, it can be tightened around the user as a sort of defensive armor. Does that make sense?”

If he had questions about anything ever, he was going straight to her.

Sanji raised an eyebrow towards Zoro, whose pointed ears were red.

The Faerie’s panic had been genuine, he knew. Whatever his intention in unleashing his Haki, he clearly hadn’t meant for it to hit him so hard. He was also so easy to tease.

“This gonna be a daily thing with you, Mosshead?” Sanji said haughtily, like Luffy hadn’t just bodily caught him from slipping face-first into the table a minute prior. “Trying to off me with your fancy aura?”

Usopp choked. “Mosshead-”

“Fancy aura-” Nami snickered.

Zoro’s eye twitched.

Oh, he was going to have fun with this one.

“I dunno what you guys are so worried about with Germy,” Luffy shrugged, snatching a fistful of potatoes from Usopp’s plate and cramming it into his gaping maw. “We just wait ‘til they try to hit us, then we hit ‘em harder.”

“We,” Nami said delicately, clearly restraining herself from lunging across the table with a knife in hand. “Will talk about this later, my king. Trying to hold a conversation with you over food is like trying to kill a thousand-headed hydra-”

Robin nodded wisely. “Cut one head off, two more grow.”

“Yes, thank you, Robin.” She said through gritted teeth, then shot Sanji a dazzling smile as though nothing were amiss. “Anyways, that was a great meal, Sanji! Do you want to ask for help cleaning up? I believe the boys would be more than willing!”

His shoulders shot up to his ears at the (albeit carefully thankless) gratitude and praise sent his way. There was certainly a pile of dishes that needed to be cleaned, but thankfully the only leftovers he had to take care of were being carefully left untouched on Luffy’s plate-

Oh, gods, the world was ending. Or Luffy was dying. Maybe both.

Luffy shot him a bright smile like Sanji wasn’t a second away from calling for their healer’s aid, and gently set his plate on the floor.

Not dying, then, just insane. What else was new?

“Just what do you think you’re doing?” Sanji asked tiredly, rubbing his temples to soothe the headache building behind his eyes.

“Oh, you know, Sanji!” Luffy melted from his chair to lie directly behind his plate, dark pupils nearly cross-eyed in concentration. “I’m feeding Chuji!”

Sanji felt a fond smile pull at his lips. He didn’t doubt that Luffy and his brothers had taken care of his beloved friend after his disappearance. The knowledge had brought him comfort during his long, hungry days in confinement. Prison slop wouldn’t have been good enough for Chuji’s refined palate, after all, and Luffy’s pockets would be far warmer than the little body heat Sanji could muster up.

Rats also only lived a couple years at the most. Frankly, it was shocking that his little friend had even survived up to Sanji’s imprisonment.

He could imagine it now: Chuji peacefully passing in his sleep, old and fat and happy, while Ace and Sabo scrambled like beheaded chickens to find a living replacement before their gullible little brother awoke. It wouldn’t take much to fool him.

Sure enough, there was a little squeak and a tiny patter of paws against the floor. Sanji couldn’t resist slipping from his seat to kneel beside the plate. He had a soft spot for small creatures, even if it’d drawn the ire of his brothers and father.

Sanji leaned closer, softening at the way the rat eagerly launched itself into the pile of food, clearly unworried of harm. It really did look like Chuji; Sabo and Ace must have searched for hours to find a rodent with the same shade of gray fur.

It also had the same crooked toe, the same splotch on his pink nose, the same notched ear that Yonji had cut into with a pocketknife to make Sanji cry-

He swallowed thickly. Ace and Sabo would never have hurt an innocent creature that Sanji loved by slicing into their extremities, even if it was to fool Luffy.

But that wasn’t possible.

“Chuji?” Sanji whispered.

The rat looked up with gravy smeared over its round cheeks, letting out a squeak that sounded positively joyful before abandoning its meal in favor of scuttling with remarkable speed into Sanji’s cupped hands.

He was a bit fatter than Sanji had left him, plump face velvet-soft under his finger as he scratched Chuji under the chin. He was warm, heartbeat rapid on Sanji’s palm.

“I don’t understand.” Sanji said out loud.

“What do you mean, Cook? We promised to take care of him!”

This had to be some kind of Fae magic. Did animals simply live longer in the Feywilds? Maybe one of the forest dwellers like Chopper or Usopp had a hand in this.

“I don’t understand.” Sanji repeated, voice warbling dangerously.

Luffy shuffled closer, pointing at the little rat. “This is Chuji,” he said slowly, obliviously. “You asked us to take care of him. You remember him, right?”

“I don’t,” He couldn’t stop, why couldn’t he stop? “I don’t understand.”

Sanji’s cheeks grew wet, trembling shoulders hunched around the rat tucked close to his chest.

His mother had loved Chuji too. Perhaps it was simply because she loved all living things, or probably because he made Sanji smile. But when Sanji shyly introduced them, she’d scooped the rat up into her bare hands and planted a kiss between its ears, then turned to do the same to her son.

He had nothing left of her. None of her paintings, her jewelry, her clothes. Judge had burned the fairy tales she’d read him; the brand new copies that mysteriously showed up in the bedroom Zeff forced him to use above his restaurant didn’t compare to pages worn by his mother’s fingers.

She’d loved Chuji, who sat in Sanji’s palm.

Fingers rubbed at Sanji’s face fruitlessly, smearing tears and snot into even more of an embarrassingly disastrous state.

“Why is Cook sad?” Luffy asked curiously, continuing to wipe ineffectively at Sanji’s cheeks. “I fed Chuji, just like you wanted.”

Sanji chuckled hoarsely. “’m not sad, Luffy. It’s just… complicated.”

There was a confused hum, then a solid weight wrapped around his side. “I don’t get it, but I’ll stay with Cook until he stops crying! Then we can have a snack! Or second dinner, and more dessert!”

“Luffy-” Nami hissed sharply, and Sanji only laughed wetly.

She would have loved Luffy, too.

Chapter Text

The night air was cool on Sanji’s face when he stumbled out the door of the sleeping quarters with a gasp. He could still feel the dregs of his nightmare lingering on his shoulders with the weight of the helmet, his mother’s funeral, his brothers’ fists.

The last thing he saw before he finally awoke was Luffy’s dead, bloodied body, Judge’s silhouette looming over them both.

He’d slept well, too well. Sleeping lightly kept the nightmares at bay. But surrounded by the gentle snores of the room’s occupants and cocooned in Luffy’s arms, he’d grown complacent.

Sanji probably should have accepted help in cleaning the dishes. By the time he finished, collapsing into heavy slumber was simply inevitable.

It hadn’t been easy to extricate himself from Luffy’s sticky limbs in the unbelievably soft bunk he’d been given, especially given the way his body literally stretched to accommodate Sanji’s attempts to pull away.

Through miracle or mercy, he managed. He’d left Chuji slumbering on Luffy’s chest in his place.

Sanji’s breath puffed chilled clouds from his lips, though his new clothes kept him comfortably warm. The rushing river was a soothing companion as he leaned over the railing, punctuated by the occasional foreign creature call.

“Bad dreams?”

He whirled with a startled shout, coming face-to-face with a green-haired demon leaning languidly against the mast.

“If I didn’t know any better,” Sanji said breathlessly, clutching his chest. “I’d say you’re trying to kill me.”

Zoro snorted, shaking his wings. His teeth shone bright in the moonlight.

“Nah, he said. “I think it’s a bad idea to keep a human on board, but you’re Luffy’s. None of us would dare harm a hair on your pretty little head.”

“And if I wasn’t?” Sanji asked curiously. “Luffy’s, I mean.”

Heavy boots met the deck as Zoro stalked to his side, staring out at the river with a silver eye. “Depends on the choices you make. So, bad dreams?”

Sanji sighed, and decided on a half-truth. “I’m not used to sleeping with so many people.”

“There’s plenty of rooms on the ship, if you prefer to sleep alone,” Zoro said bluntly, a solution to a problem. “I know humans don’t really do the whole communal thing.”

That part was true; there were an impossible number of rooms housed within the Thousand Sunny. He’d been briefly introduced to a library larger than the ship itself, individual workshops and forges, baths and treasuries and rooms filled to bursting with beds and blankets.

Luffy’s ship could house an army, if he wanted it to.

Despite the mind-boggling amount of space, the ship’s inhabitants all shared a single living quarters. Individual rooms were claimed based on daily use, such as Nami’s maproom and Franky’s workshop. It was strange, but not unwelcome.

“Nah,” Sanji ran a hand through his hair, relishing in the way it whipped around his face freely in the wind. “I’m just antsy, I guess. Is it safe if I go on a walk, or will something try to eat me?”

Zoro shrugged. “Just stick close to the ship and you’ll be fine. Usopp and Robin are on patrol. If anything comes within a mile of us, we’ll know.”

Miles. That was a strange unit of measurement for a Faerie to use. Or did they share the same system?

Sanji dismissed the thought. “Through Haki, right? When spread out?”

Zoro nodded. “Quick learner, for a human.”

He made sure to aim a rude gesture behind him as he left. The gangplank was already down when Sanji approached; likely Robin and Usopp’s doing, he thought. Someone with wings had no need for a bridge.

The sounds were familiar yet alien as he carefully weaved through the trees, taking care to step around flowers and strangely-shaped mushrooms. He’d always loved listening to the bird calls at the edge of the forest, laughing uproariously when Ace mimicked the sound perfectly and Luffy let out a full-chested honk in response.

Sanji had never heard bird calls like these.

He finally had a pair of shoes, at least, soft slippers that molded perfectly to his feet and walked silently over wet grass. The ones he’d worn as a child in Germa had been stiff, clunky. He’d come to associate Usopp as the craftsman of their little group, nimble fingers always busy creating.

“Remember,” he’d said as he handed Sanji the footwear with a wink. “Since you’re my friend, this is a shared resource, not a favor.”

Sanji had never even mentioned the blisters on his feet.

Several pairs of eyes glowed eerily in the moonlight from amongst the treetops, some wide and round while others remained narrow slits. He made sure to give them a respectful nod, just in case they had a hankering for human flesh.

He’d have to ask Robin what kinds of creatures lingered among the branches. She likely had a book about them in her wonderful library. Though certainly a strange woman, she’d been just as generous as Usopp, a delighted smile lifting the corners of her lips whenever he voiced a question.

Perhaps it was only the company Luffy surrounded himself with, but stories depicting the Fae as manipulative, bloodthirsty creatures seemed less and less likely. They’d been nothing but hospitable, showering him with gifts and praise for his food and showing him more kindness than he’d experienced in so long.

So lost in thought, it took Sanji precious seconds to realize that the birds had gone silent. By then, he already smelled the blood. Something sticky and red seeped into his shoes, squishing wetly between his toes.

Usopp and Robin were on patrol, Zoro said.

No. Gods, please, no.

He was running, branches scratching shallowly at his face and arms as he muscled through. It couldn’t be them, not the satyr who called Sanji a friend or the dryad who had been so patient and kind to him-

The relief he felt at the sight of a dead man that bore no resemblance to the pair was quickly drowned by horror and the bile that rose in Sanji’s throat.

Sanji noticed the pale face first, open-mouthed and twisted in grotesque agony. The tree sprouting up through his gored abdomen was difficult to miss. It held the bloodied corpse aloft, limbs dangling limply in the air like the innards hanging from higher branches.

There were scratches in the bark, made by human nails. The man had died slowly, in agonizing pain.

His meager dinner splashed to the forest floor with a retch. Sanji took a step forward anyway, wiping at his mouth.

The man had rounded ears. A human.

Another step. The mottled black uniform was familiar, even bloodied and in tatters. Too familiar. Only Germa spies wore that particular garment, after all, made to blend in with the darkness of night.

There was more than one monster in these woods.

A smart man would sprint back to the ship, would warn Zoro that Robin and Usopp were in danger. There was nothing he could do. He could probably hold his own against a Germa spy, but a human was no match for whatever beast was lurking in the shadows. And if the run caused his heart to stutter again, heading towards the ship ensured Luffy would be nearby to keep it beating.

There was a scream in the opposite direction. Sanji was not a smart man.

“Robin!” He shouted, wet shoes pounding against the ground. “Uso-”

A thick branch wrapped around his waist with the speed of a whip, hurtling him to a sudden stop with an undignified yelp.

The Germa spy, impaled on a tree-

“No,” He gasped, pulling futilely at the sturdy limb. “No, please-”

“Sanji!” Came a distant call, Usopp’s voice achingly familiar.

He was going to die here. They were going to find his bloodied body. Or, worse, he’d still be alive but past the point of saving. Death would be a mercy.

There was none of the apathy he’d experienced in front of his intended execution at the hands of Luffy’s court, only overwhelming panic that did nothing against the force of the bindings around his body.

A pair of wooden lips sprouting from the bark managed to startle him back into reality.

“It’s only me, little human,” Robin’s voice whispered with the dryness of dying leaves. “I did not mean to startle you; I was merely worried you would overtax your human body again.”

“Robin,” Sanji gasped, relief dropping him limply into her steady hold. “Robin, please, listen to me, something’s in the forest, something bad, there’s Germa spies-”

A gentle hush came from the leaves. From the branch around his waist came a little tendril that swiped across his cheek, tracing over a cut made by a rogue thorn. A delicate purple flower sprouted from its tip; another limb rose to pluck and tuck it behind Sanji’s ear.

“Why does your heart beat like a rabbit’s, Cook?” the trees whispered, surrounding him on all sides. “There is no danger to you here.”

There was a rustle in the undergrowth, and Robin’s lithe figure emerged with glowing eyes that never blinked. With her came the smell of rotting leaves, death and decay.

When she gave him a serene smile, there was blood on her lips, splashed and drying across delicate features and limbs that sprouted from the trunk of her body. In her wake was dragged a bound and crying man clad in a Germa uniform, eyes meeting Sanji’s pleadingly.

Robin was a dryad, a woman of the trees. The spy had been impaled by a tree. That it took him this long to draw the connection was a bit concerning; Sanji blamed it on the shock.

She grew closer, lips pursed in a frown as she reached out a hand to cradle Sanji’s chin, smearing the crusted blood on her fingers over his skin. A low hum came from her throat when he flinched.

“You’re alright, little one,” she said soothingly. “I am glad you called for help, even if the situation was well in hand already.”

Is that why she thought he’d shouted?

Robin was kind. She was gentle. He’d seen the man’s intestines, wet and fleshy and swaying in the wind with his cold, dead body. The Germa man had been tortured.

She also held him in her arms as he gagged and vomited sour bile, murmuring soft reassurances in his ear.

“Sanji!” Usopp burst through the bushes, eyes wide. “Are you hurt? What are you doing out here?”

He didn’t blink twice at the muffled screaming of the hostage, making no reaction to Robin’s bloodied form or the shadow of a dead body only a few yards behind them.

When Sanji opened his mouth, no words came out.

“I believe the presence of Germa spies so close has sent him into a poor state,” Robin explained simply, heedless of her captive’s wordless pleas. “I’m worried that he may try to run off again.”

Sanji resisted the urge to scrabble at Robin’s limbs, to throw himself towards Usopp when the satyr kneeled beside them. He couldn’t bring himself to harm her, despite everything.

“I think you might’ve scared the guy.” Usopp said bluntly, pointing back at the hanging corpse. “The humans we fight are very different from their innocent counterparts, at least according to the others.”

Robin tilted her head to the side. “I hadn’t considered that.”

“Regardless,” she sighed. “The other spy must be disposed; I’ve gleaned any relevant information from the first one. Since this wasn’t an organized attack on either side, our king’s deal has not been broken. Perhaps you could take Cook back to the ship while I do so? I don’t want to upset him more.”

Sanji didn’t struggle when the dryad passed him off to Usopp’s careful hold, instead meeting the terrified gaze of the doomed man.

He should hate the spy. Only Judge’s most trusted men were awarded the position. They’d been his teachers, for a while, back when his father still entertained the idea of making him into a tool for stealth when he showed zero promise in open combat.

They were unimaginably cruel.

They’d showed him the effects of their signature poison by using a rat from the dungeons and laughed when the princeling cried himself sick. They wouldn’t have hesitated to relay information that would result in the gruesome deaths of Luffy’s court, himself included.

The man’s eyes, open in death, tear tracks trailing down a distorted face forever locked into a final scream-

“Don’t kill him like that,” Sanji blurted. “Please.”

Robin exchanged a look with Usopp, who shrugged.

“You are soft-hearted, Cook.” She said finally.

It was his greatest weakness, Judge’s greatest failure, the reason why he’d been stripped of name and face and thrown into the deepest of dungeons.

“I know.” Sanji said.

Her gaze turned suddenly gentle. “Make no mistake, little human. There is strength in this; do not let either of our worlds make you hard.”

It was an odd thing to say. Softness took Zeff’s leg. Softness did nothing to save his mother. Softness made him a target.

He couldn’t stop it if he tried.

“I’ll take care of this, Sanji,” Usopp gave him a wide grin. “We’ll let him go free, alright? He’ll live a better life this time around.”

“You’ll find that satyrs have a way with words,” Robin explained before Sanji could voice a question. “To a weakened will, our dear Usopp can make a man simply forget this whole encounter.”

With a gentle pat on the shoulder, the satyr turned away from Sanji to face the spy. “Don’t worry, Sanji. I’m not gonna hurt him.”

Sanji nodded numbly. What Robin had done… maybe it was an anomaly. An accident. She wasn’t violent, just overprotective. Reactive. She was good. Reiju was good, his mother was good. Robin was a woman, and so she must be good.

This was all just a misunderstanding.

When Usopp spoke, it was with a musical undercurrent, a melody of wind that threaded his words together. It was hypnotic, soothing. He wanted, no, needed to hear what the satyr had to say.

He was saying something important, Sanji knew. His voice commanded to stop struggling, to lie still and listen.

Sanji wanted to listen. It was just so soothing, making his limbs go lax. He would do anything, if it would keep Usopp talking.

“… and you will forget-”

No.

Wrenching himself from the binding threads of lingering magic was like leaving his mother’s embrace. Where he’d felt so warm, so safe, he felt only a chill.

It still called to him, beckoned him in. His friend offered relief, sanctuary in the steady timbre of spoken language.

“You are no longer who you were. You will be who I say you are. You will live this life, so say I.”

He was Blackleg Sanji. He was Cook. He was Luffy’s friend.

“You will live this life, so say I.”

He was Blackleg Sanji. He was a Cook. He was… Luffy’s friend?

“So say I.”

He was Blackleg Sanji. He was… a cook. He was… he was…

Everything suddenly went muffled, soft fullness blooming in his ears.

Blackleg Sanji. Cook. Not a cook, but Cook. Luffy’s friend.

Slender wooden fingers wrapped around his wrists when he brought his hands up to feel at the makeshift earplugs fashioned by a dryad’s magic. Her eyes caught his, lips pursed in a worried frown.

“I’m okay,” Sanji said. At least, he thought he did. At the moment, he could only hear the rush of blood in his head. “Thank you, Robin.”

The spy’s eyes had gone blank, Sanji realized, lips drawn in a dopey smile as he leaned forward to clasp Usopp’s hand as though greeting an old friend.

Usopp wasn’t erasing a single memory. He was erasing them all, crafting an entirely new life with only his words.

He was going to be sick.

Only when the man had skipped away did the cotton in his ears furl back into Robin’s branches. What had seemed so quiet before was now deafening, the bird calls piercing and sharp. Usopp brushed his hands on his legs when he stood, and the sound grated.

“Well, that’s that,” Usopp said cheerfully. “He’ll come to in an inn at a little village to the east of Castletown with a passion for planting beets. I even added in a bit about having a crush on a milkmaid back home, and- whoa, Sanji, what’s wrong?”

He didn’t realize that he’d clapped his hands over his ears.

“I’m,” Sanji sucked in a deep breath, forcing his arms to his sides. “I’m fine.”

“You don’t look fine-”

“I believe the Cook may be particularly vulnerable to your magic, Usopp. Do not worry, I intervened.”

Sanji didn’t hear Usopp’s panicked response over the sound of his own heart, a buzzing in his ears. It was hard to get enough air.

He was familiar with these kinds of episodes, the drop into an anxiety-riddled state. It wasn’t safe to be vulnerable, he wasn’t safe, he had to stay grounded-

When he opened his eyes, Robin and Usopp were waiting expectantly. He’d missed a question. Asking them to repeat wasn’t an option, they’d know something was wrong.

“I…” Sanji tried for a reassuring smile. “Yes?”

Usopp’s brow furrowed.

“I mean, no. No. I’m fine. I meant no.” His mouth didn’t seem connected to his brain anymore.

Robin reached towards him.

There was so much blood. Soaking in his shoes, smeared on his face, sapphire eyes glowing, boring through him like branches that pierced through skin-

“Don’t touch me!” He spat, stumbling backwards.

Her expression flashed briefly with hurt, and Sanji’s stomach dropped.

“I didn’t…” he gasped. “I didn’t, I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have, I’m sorry-”

“Little human…”

“We need to get him back to Luffy,” he heard Usopp say, dimly. “His body’s gonna give out again at this rate.”

Dark spots danced in his vision, turning Usopp and Robin shades of gray, distorting their features into grotesque nightmares. Air whistled thinly through his lungs.

“I just… I just need some air,” he heard himself say, taking another step back. “I’m sorry, it’s not your fault, I’m fine, I just, I just need-”

He toppled to his knees with a wheeze. There was an unbearable fullness to his chest. Damn his heart. Damn his human body, his weakness, his softness, his fear, his failure.

There was a puff of something sweet into his face, and Sanji promptly sneezed.

The flower held between Robin’s delicate fingers was beautiful, a deep ruby-red. He imagined its heavy petals to be soft against his skin, if he reached out.

His body fell limply against the grass, tangled roots rising to cradle him gently. He tried to move his arms and only managed to raise them a few inches. He could feel his rapid heartbeat slow, shallow pants deepening into slow, measured breaths.

“Did you just sedate him?” Usopp squawked, taking a cautious step away from the offending flower.

“Yes.” Robin said bluntly, twirling it in her hand. “Only a mild one; I feared his heart would stop again. Are you able to speak, Cook?”

His tongue felt numb in his mouth when he slurred a “yes”. His thoughts trickled like molasses.

Robin had killed a man. Usopp had undone another and rebuilt him with new pieces. They were kind to him.

Sanji was tired.

He didn’t see Zoro approach, but the heavy beat of wings combined with Robin and Ussop’s lack of reaction to their new arrival clued him in well enough. A shadow fell over his face as the Fae loomed over him, arms crossed over his chest.

“Think he’s had enough, yet?”

“Zoro,” Robin greeted stonily. “This was cruel. You knew what he would see.”

He’d known?

Said Faerie shrugged. If Sanji could, he’d throw a well-aimed kick. “The human wasn’t in any danger. He needs to know what our world is like; we can’t protect him from this. You saw him try to accept food from Luffy, the language he uses. He’s indebted himself to every Faerie he meets.”

“You know, he’s not wrong…” He heard Usopp mutter. “And Sanji deserves to make an informed decision. I would’ve done it differently, though.”

Sanji was tired of being talked about like he wasn’t right there.

“You’ll make sure he returns safely, then?” Robin asked quietly. When he turned his head, Sanji caught sight of the dryad woman clutching the flower tight against her chest.

Her face was blank. He knew what a mask looked like.

“Yeah, I got him.”

She nodded, then turned away. “The purple flowers will lead you back to the Sunny,” she said quietly. “For his sake, do not try flying. You will most certainly get lost. Come, Usopp. We still have some ground to cover before our night is done.”

He tried to call after her, and only managed a weak whisper. The dryad woman did not turn.

Burly arms hefted him up against a naked chest like a new bride carried over the threshold. Sanji’s arms were carefully tucked into his lap.

“What, no threats this time?” Zoro asked glibly. “You’re losing your fire, Cook.”

Sanji was too tired to argue. “Just take me back, asshole.”

When he laid his ear against the Faerie’s chest, there was no heartbeat. Yet, the skin under his cheek was warm with blood. Was it magic that kept it thrumming through his veins?

Given that Luffy had kept his heart beating outside his body, there was certainly credit to the theory. Robin would know.

The creaking of wood, the splitting of flesh, a dying scream-

Sanji shuddered, heart forced slow and steady by the pollen he’d breathed.

“Robin’s story is her own,” Zoro said suddenly, staring steadfastly at the horizon as they walked. “I have no right to tell it. But trust me when I say she has good reason to be ruthless.”

War was ugly on all sides. He knew how bloodthirsty his father could be. “I know.”

“So, was this enough to convince you not to eat from Luffy’s hand, or do we need to do more sightseeing?”

“Why the fuck do you hate me so much?” Sanji asked with a sudden wave of exhaustion. “Why do you care if I stay?”

“I don’t.” Came the answer, and there was no deceit in Zoro’s expression. “You’re just as likely to die in your world as you are in ours. But it’s stupid to bind yourself to this realm when you can freely travel through them both. Eating our food isn’t a requirement to stay, you know.”

It made sense, much as he didn’t want to admit it.

Zoro continued, “If you get killed here because you apologize or give thanks or ask favors from the wrong type of Fae, it will destroy Luffy. My job is to make sure that doesn’t happen.”

“Why didn’t you just tell me all this?”

“Would you have believed me?”

That was fair.

His eyelids were so heavy, the bird song drawing him closer to sleep. His name was Blackleg Sanji. He was Luffy’s Cook.

He couldn’t forget.

“You can sleep,” Zoro’s chest rumbled under his head. “My loyalty is to Luffy and his court, which includes you. For now.”

The rapid see-saw between kindness and derision in the man was starting to give Sanji a headache. One moment, Zoro promised to help keep his family from getting ahold of his dead body. Then, he tried to kill him. After that, he apparently stood guard at Sanji’s bedside, kept him from eating food from Luffy’s hand, and then encouraged him to gallivant into spy-infested territory under the guise of ‘teaching him a lesson’.

And now, his arms cradled him gently.

“Eat shit and die.” He managed to murmur in response, eyelids fluttering.

“Sweet dreams, Cook.”

Sanji dreamed of dead, dissected men hanging from the trees with no faces. And when he awoke in Luffy’s tight embrace, his face and feet were clean of blood.

Chapter Text

“Luffy,” Sanji whispered. “You have to let me get up.”

Said changeling made a questioning sound in the back of his throat. It sounded similar to the stray alley cat that tended to hang around the Baratie, equally disgruntled.

“Luffy…”

A cold nose burrowed into the crook of Sanji’s neck, magic-drenched fingers prodding at his jugular.  “’s early. Wanna sleep.”

That much was true; there was still plenty of snoring to be heard.

“I can’t make breakfast if you don’t.”

He’d managed to banish the lingering nightmares with the thought of cooking. There were so many new ingredients he’d yet to try. And Luffy adored sweet things made with milk and honey in the morning (or any time, really), perhaps he could make pancakes. Of course, meat would be a necessity. He assumed they had something similar to pork in the Feywilds, he could fry up some bacon…

There was an audible schleck as Luffy’s rubbery arms retracted from their vice-like grip around Sanji’s torso.

Physical contact was a peculiar thing with Luffy. Ace and Sabo as well, though the latter less so. They were always touching, sleeping in a tangle of limbs or simply draping themselves over each other.

It’d taken him a long time to stop flinching whenever Luffy touched him, longer still for Luffy’s older brothers.

He’d assumed it was exclusive to the trio, but Luffy’s court seemed equally as intimate, leaning on one another during dinner or even brazenly propping a leg against another’s chair. It had to be a Fae thing, he mused.

Being glued to Luffy’s side again was strange but not unwelcome, even if the slightest brush of bare skin against his own felt like a brand, burning and new after going without for so long.

With a fond chuckle, Sanji swung his feet from the wide bunk, carefully settling Chuji’s sleepy form on his shoulder. His bare feet brushed against something soft.

Ussop had left him another new pair of shoes, free of blood and gore. When Sanji glanced over to the satyr’s slumbering form on the adjacent bed, his fingertips were wrapped in bandages.

How long did he spend making them?

It was easy to sneak out with the soft slippers donned, footsteps silent. Sanji breathed in sunlight on the deck. After nearly a decade in the dark, he’d never get used to seeing the sky again.

Despite the sun being barely over the horizon, there was a quiet rumble of conversation already ongoing when he padded into the galley. Two tall figures were seated at the bar, one willowy and the other broad.

“Hey, little guy!” Franky greeted eagerly, holding up a glass of amber liquid that bubbled despite the copious amounts of ice. “You’re up early, the others’ll be asleep for a while!”

He slung an arm around Robin’s waist, who gave Sanji a polite greeting and avoided his eyes.

There was a beat.

“Can I get you anything to drink?” Sanji blurted. “Coffee, tea, juice? I can make whatever you want-”

Robin held up her mug in answer, full and steaming. He could smell something aromatic left in the air, bitter and rich like coffee with sweet undertones.

She didn’t look sad, or hurt, or angry. There was simply no expression on her face. Once, he’d worn a similar façade, a meager attempt to divert his brothers’ interests towards something less interesting. Only a week ago he’d deployed the method against Niji; it hadn’t done much good.

As a child, he cried too often to try.

“Right, right.” Sanji fumbled to tear off a hunk of break from the pantry for Chuji, passing it to the bleary-eyed rat on his shoulder.

“I think,” he said carefully, straightening up. “I owe you an apology for last night, Miss Robin.”

Franky startled, shaking the stool with his shift in weight. “Hey, ‘lil guy, you shouldn’t-”

“I know what it means.” Sanji interrupted firmly.

Robin hummed, setting the mug down with an unreadable expression. “You owe me no debt. It was no fault of your own, nor do I regret my actions. I only wish I had not frightened you so.”

“You didn’t scare me,” he said quickly. “I was just… startled.”

She gave him an indulgent smile. “You are a good liar, for a human,” she said. “Unfortunately, I happen to be an expert in the craft.”

Sanji was far better at speaking falsehoods than detecting them, especially from a woman. His mother said he simply saw the best in people. His father called him naïve.

Franky cleared his throat, table creaking when he leaned forward on his elbows. “I feel like I missed something. Anyone wanna catch me up?”

“Hmm,” Robin pursed her lips thoughtfully. “No.”

“Alrighty, then. Carry on, ‘lil lady.”

Zeff had always told him to be polite to ladies, to be courteous and good. The two women he knew best as a child, his mother and sister, were the only ones who showed him any semblance of kindness before the old geezer started working at the palace.

Robin looked at him so gently, like he was worth something.

“You wanted to watch me cook, right?” Sanji blurted, busying his hands with ingredients. “To see how I’m doing something magic with the food?”

“That’s a super idea, ‘lil guy! Robin loves figuring out people wield their magic, she’s an absolute pro-”

He was interrupted with a slender finger to his lips. Sanji suspected this was not an uncommon occurrence.

“Thank you, Franky,” Robin said delicately, then turned back to Sanji. “I admit that I am interested. However, I do not wish to make you uncomfortable. This is your home, now. One should feel safe in such an environment, don’t you think?”

He didn’t share the sentiment. Home was where his nightmares lived; it was the wilds he loved most, or the raucous clatter of Zeff’s kitchen.

She tilted her head to the side, catching his hesitation like a fly in a spider’s web. “Of course, home is not always where we are born.”

Robin was kind.

“Can you hold Chuji, while I cook?” Sanji asked impulsively, plucking the still-feasting critter from his shoulder. He made no move to step closer; she would need to enter his kitchen to retrieve the rat. “I’m worried he’ll fall in.”

Luffy would not love somebody who harmed innocent creatures. Luffy loved Robin.

Surprise flickered over the dryad’s face; he had a feeling it was a rare expression on her. She stood up slowly, taking measured steps towards him. He didn’t step back.

This time, Sanji didn’t flinch when she reached to rub her thumb over his brow, the wood around sapphire eyes crinkling.

“You are soft, little human.”

It wasn’t an insult.

Chuji happily squeaked when dry hands came up to cradle his plump little body, rubbing his cheek against her fingers. Robin held him like she held her flowers.

Sanji flashed her a brief, wobbly smile before picking up a ceramic knife and starting to prepare fruit into bite-sized pieces. He couldn’t resist using his paring knife to craft delicate swans from the apple-like produce, the way Patty had taught him.

“Listen close, brat, ‘cause I’m only gonna show you once,” Patty snarked, hands deftly manipulating fruit into beautiful shapes. “You wanna impress a girl? Give her one of these. Got a crying kid at table three?  Give her one of these. You want the boss to yell at you for wasting time? Give him one of-”

Sanji had only rolled his eyes. Patty repeated his instructions over half a dozen times, offering weirdly gentle critique. By the time they finished, there was a veritable army of apple birds, each one cleaner than the last. They prepared a large pot to make applesauce with the wasted attempts, seasoned with sweet cinnamon and sugar.

When Zeff wandered back from a smoke break, he’d plucked up Sanji’s latest masterpiece with a scrutinizing eye, stroking his moustache.

“Not bad, Eggplant,” he said. “Not bad at all.”

It was the first time Sanji had smiled in the weeks since his mother died.

Luffy had been enamored with the carved creatures, begging Sanji to make him more from the apples that grew on the edge of the forest. It’d been a surefire way to get the crybaby grinning again.

“How interesting…” he heard Robin murmur, a brown hand coming into view to hover over his own, as though she felt something unseen.

“What is it?”

“Yeah, guys, I super don’t see anything-”

“Your magic,” Robin smoothly interrupted. Her hand made a cupping motion, scooping air through her fingers. “I’ve never seen anything quite like it. You’re quite literally pouring it into your food as you work, not unlike artificing. I must ask again, what were your intentions when preparing this?

I wanted to make you feel better.

Sanji flushed. “If I lie again, would you let me get away with it?”

Her laughter sounded like falling leaves.

“Perhaps,” she said, free hand cradling Chuji to her chest. “If you would let me try one, I could take a guess.”

He could never refuse someone food. It was everything he stood for, as a cook.

She ate delicately, allowing Chuji to nibble from the same piece. Her expression softened, even Chuji letting out a content puff of air.

Then, horrifyingly, Robin’s eyes filled with tears that threatened to fall and stain her cheeks.

“It’s wonderful, Cook,” she said quietly. “I had quite forgotten what it felt like to be in my mother’s embrace, after all these years. Fae live a bit longer than humans, you see.”

Curious, Sanji took a bite of a carved bird. It had the texture of a pear, with a vibrant burst of sweet citrus that danced on his tongue. He’d have to ask for the names of the Fae-realm fruits. It didn’t, however, inspire any magical feelings of comfort, nor did it remind him of his mother’s gentle hugs.

Cutting up apple-swans did remind him of the Baratie’s kitchen, of Patty and Carne’s strange hijinks, Zeff’s rare pats on the head or shoulder. It wasn’t anything magical, just related memory.

He did feel a bit better, he supposed.

Robin reached for another. The affection, the loss in her eyes was familiar.

“I lost my mother, too.” Sanji found himself saying, turning to start preparing the pancake batter and hide his face.

“Yes,” Robin nodded thoughtfully, gaze distant. “I knew as much; the forest told me all about you. They are very fond of you, you see. I would not have been so quick to trust you otherwise.”

Sanji blinked, whisk freezing. “The… forest. Told you about me.”

“Yes,” she repeatedly patiently, absently trailing her finger over Chuji’s spine. “They told me about the little human boy with cornsilk hair who came to collect blue flowers and play with changelings. You spoke to the trees quite often; they listened.”

“I see.” He lied.

Robin’s eyes tightened with mirth. “I do not possess the ability to bestow a blessing in the same way as others in our group would, as my magic stems from a very different source. However, with your permission, I would give you a gift of my own free will. No favors owed.”

Sanji set down the wooden bowl of sweet-smelling batter.

“Miss Robin,” he said carefully. “If this is about last night… I can’t accept-”

“It is not. If I may, you are not unlike the moonflowers you so deeply covet. You are something I want to grow wild and free.”

He’d never known their name before. It seemed to fit; his mother loved the sky.

“And perhaps,” she said quietly, gazing at him from under dark lashes. “You are stronger than you know. Did you know that when brewed into tea, the petals of the moonflower are a natural cure-all healing agent? But should you grind up their roots, you have a fine, tasteless powder that would kill a man in minutes upon consumption. The process is agonizing to watch.”

It was phrased like a compliment, even if the analogy sounded vaguely… threatening. He didn’t know how to respond.

He’d never been the roots his father wanted him to be.

“I have nothing to give you.” Sanji said helplessly.

Robin hummed. “Another lie, even if spoken with full conviction. You are more than the sum of your usefulness. However, even if that were the measure, food is something of utmost importance to the Fae, as you’ve likely guessed. Your gift makes you very powerful indeed, your innate talent even more so.”

“Please,” Robin said, and there was something that tugged in his chest at the word, a thread that he could reach out and pull if he wanted to. It felt powerful, silken control between his fingertips. “Would you allow me this?”

“Yes,” Sanji said automatically. “But you don’t owe me anything-”

The filament binding them together crumbled into dust.

Her wooden face broke out into a sunny smile under raven bangs, something sweet and child-like. There was no remnant of the bloodied dryad he’d seen last night.

They were the same person, nonetheless. To love one meant to love the other.

“My gift, then,” Robin said softly, a moonflower blooming between her fingers, petals aglow. “We claim you as a child of the forest, a title you earned many years ago.”

The floral aroma grew overpowering, taking root deep within his sinuses. He could feel the shade of leaves, soil between his toes, mint under his tongue. He felt Wild.

She carefully plucked the flower from her own limb and reached out to braid it into Sanji’s hair. “You will never know hunger amongst the trees. Where you go, there will always be fruit, nuts, and all manners of edible plants. There will be other boons, of course, but I feel this one may be the most important to you.”

 He’d heard of the ‘gifts’ given to humans by the Fae. It was a deal that always seemed too good to be true and came at too high a cost.

There were no strings.

“Thank-”

A thin branch playfully flicked him in the nose.

“While I still hold a grudge against our dear swordsman,” Robin said dryly. “He was correct about one thing; it would be wise to stop using such language, even amongst friends.”

Sanji nodded sheepishly, hurrying to pick up the batter bowl lest his tongue slip again.

When he started piling trays of food on the table, Franky looked him over assessingly before leaning back with a hum. The stone fingers on his left hand (the right made of flesh) made a horrible grinding noise when they scratched at his chin, and Sanji winced.

“You’re a good guy, ‘lil human. Want some cola?”

“No, he does not want some cola, Franky,” Usopp’s voice came tiredly from the doorway. He looked exhausted; Sanji hoped that the dried beans he’d ground had the same effect as coffee. “Fae-prepared, remember?”

“Aw, right.”

Sanji did want to try the fizzing beverage, but wisely said nothing of it.

“Usopp,” he started, pouring a mug of not-coffee (at least, it was same thing Robin had been drinking) and offering it out. “I wanted to say that I’m-”

Robin shot him a sharp look.

“…acknowledging that I may have reacted poorly to last night’s events and made you uncomfortable and that you didn’t deserve that.” He finished lamely.

Usopp looked elated at the declaration, dark eyes dancing, and Sanji felt a pang for even associating the satyr with monstrous intentions.

“You’re good, man,” he said honestly, taking the mug from Sanji’s hands. “I can get that this is all probably-”

He leaned forward to take a deep sniff, pointed ears twitching. The action only leant to Sanji’s running theory that the court all quietly thought he smelled bad.

“I feel like I missed something.” Usopp said mildly, glancing between Sanji and Robin. “You reek of nature magic. You smell more like a forest-rooted Fae than me and Chopper.”

“Oh, man,” Franky murmured emphatically, brightening when a root stretched from Robin’s body to deposit a plate of Sanji’s offerings. “I’ve been here the whole time, and I still have no idea what’s going on.”

Chapter Text

Sanji had only been with the Summer Court for three days when everything threatened to crumble again.

“Brook,” he said with gritted teeth, the (admittedly soft) bindings tight against his wrists and ankles. “If you don’t untie me, I’m going to grind up your bones and use them as fertilizer for Nami’s tangerine trees.”

The skeleton let out his signature strange laugh, though there was a nervous tinge to it.

“I’m afraid I can’t yet do that, dear Cook,” he said with what Sanji assumed to be a placating smile (it was hard to tell without the skin, really). “Nami was quite firm on this.”

He could feel the sway of the ship under the chair he was tied in the heavy swells of riverwater; they were moving fast, far faster than a ship had any right to, not to mention there was currently nobody steering despite the way they navigated tight corners without running aground.

“I suspect they’ll be back soon,” Brook said amicably, raising a steaming teacup to his lipless jaw. “You have no need to worry; we’ve dealt with Marine raids more than once. Having one of the village dryads send a distress call through the forest saved us a great deal of time.

It’d taken only five, maybe ten minutes for Luffy’s court to suit up in fighting leathers after Robin had rushed in during lunch prep, unusually out of breath.

There was an ongoing Marine raid on a local village a few miles east, she said. They were far closer than Shanks’ palace. Fortifications would only hold for so long; there were children in attendance.

His father had a few dealings with them in the past; a military group deadset on eradicating Fae settlements near the border of their lands. It’d started as a human taskforce armed with iron to protect themselves from invaders. Now, it only took a few thousand berri to convince a general that a peaceful Fae settlement posed a threat.

Corruption ran deep.

Sanji had been fully prepared to join; he’d be able to touch the iron weapons his companions couldn’t, was a decent fighter in his own right.

“Brook, you and Sanji will stay here to manage the ship,” Nami ordered behind her, ushering the rest of the room’s occupants outside. “I’ve charmed the navigation system to meet us near the village, but somebody needs to make sure it doesn’t get off course.”

“I’m coming with,” Sanji said bluntly, carefully setting aside his knife and wiping his hands on an apron. “Do you have any leathers I can borrow?”

Nami’s fingers were deftly braiding her long tresses back when she glanced back at Sanji, brow furrowed over honeyed eyes and painted lips. “Absolutely not. Even if you weren’t human, you’re still recovering. You’ll only get yourself killed, or worse.”

“I’ll be fine. I know how the Marines work.”

They’d offered him shelter, companionship, a kitchen. He would not be useless weight in return.

He’d only just extinguished the stove when a zap of electricity locked his limbs stiff. A pair of freckled arms caught him easily, smelling of citrus.

“Your death will break Luffy’s spirit,” Nami murmured in his ear, tying him securely with ropes from her bag, soft strips of fabric underneath to prevent chafing near his precious hands; she’d known he’d try to come. “If you want to fight so badly, do so after you’ve got both feet out of the grave.”

She breezed out the door without another word, giving Brook a stern look.

“Where’s Sanji?” he’d heard Luffy ask, distantly.

“He’ll be staying behind with Brook to keep watch over the ship,” Nami replied sweetly. “I just checked in on him.”

“Oh, okay!”

Before he could open his mouth to yell, a gentle melody at his side seeped into his ears. His eyes grew heavy, thoughts sluggish.

When he awoke, he felt fully refreshed after hours of dreamless sleep. He’d also never wanted to strangle somebody without a larynx before (and how that worked, Sanji couldn’t begin to guess).

“Perhaps another song, to lift our spirits?”

Sanji shot Brook a withering glare. He could admit that he was being a bit unfair to the skeleton, but the frustration was bubbling out of his chest. He’d spent the day snoozing away while Luffy was fighting for his life without him.

“At least let me cook,” Sanji argued, jerking against his bonds and hissing when a bony hand reached out to steady his chair. “Luffy will be hungry when he gets back.”

Brook hummed, leaning back in his chair. “I suppose that’s a respectable request,” he said amicably. “I would request, however, that you don’t attempt to jump ship to locate the battle without directions. Human skin is also quite easy to pierce without the proper armor. Of course, it’s been a long time since I wore it!”

The following laughter was downright haunting, even as he stood to gently relieve Sanji of his bindings with nimble digits.

“You wore… human skin,” Sanji tried delicately, rubbing the blood flow back into his wrists. “Do you mean…”

Brook giggled jovially. “My own, of course. I was once a travelling bard in a group of merry adventurers. Alas, I made the mistake of accepting a longer lifespan from a rather tricky faerie without listening to the terms and conditions.”

“I see.” Sanji said blandly, because that was a revelation. If Brook had once been human, then perhaps he too stood a chance…

There were more important things to worry about at the moment. His gaze flickered between Brook and the doorway.

“I would humbly request that you not-”

Sanji bolted.

“Ah,” he heard Brook say behind him. “I suppose I should have seen that coming. Onwards we go, I suppose.”

He smelled the smoke first upon stepping out on deck, thick smog coating his throat with bitter air that forced out a cough.

It was impossible to see anything beyond the throng of trees on the riverbank through watering eyes. Sanji drew up the collar of his tunic over his nose and mouth; even under the stiflingly hot smoke, the garment remained blissfully cool.

There was the steady click of a cane that announced Brook’s arrival, the towering skeleton coming to join his side at the railing.

“Oh dear,” He murmured. “Oh dear, that’s not good.”

Sanji crouched down while coughing hoarsely. He remembered, once, after a close call with a faulty stove, Zeff drilling into him for hours that smoke rose.

“Explain.”

“Nami is quite adept with summoning storms, you see,” Brook responded, chewing on a bony digit nervously. The smoke didn’t seem to affect him… did he even have any lungs? “Heavy enough to smother such flames.”

The sky was clear, a sicky yellow from the smog.

“Something’s wrong.”

“Indeed.”

The silence was deafening. He’d been able to hear Luffy’s wild cries and laughter from deep in his cell, even if he didn’t recognize them at the time. Now he could only hear calls for help, enraged screams, muffled thuds and thundering booms.

There was no Luffy.

“We need to help them.” Sanji hoisted himself to his feet, the rush of toxic air making him lightheaded. “How do we lower the gangplank?”

Brook hesitated. “Someone must remain with the ship. It may be our only means of retreat.”

“Then you stay, I’ll go-”

“I cannot allow that, Sanji. Your own safety aside, your sudden appearance would likely be more of a distraction than a boon.”

Useless, good-for-nothing, failure-

A growl rose from his chest. They were running out of time.

“Fine,” he snapped, nails digging into his fisted palms. “You go. I’ll stay this time. Then we’ll talk.”

There was a delicate shing as Brook pulled a fine sword from the handle of his cane, dark sockets boring into his soul where eyes should reside.

“Do you swear it, Sanji?” He asked seriously, and there was a tug in his chest, an opening for a vow. “To remain on the Sunny until one of Luffy’s court returns, or until it is no longer safe to do so for any reason?”

“Yes, yes.” Something locked in his very core. Sanji had the feeling that even if he tried, he would be unable to leave. “Now go, you worthless sack of bones.”

The responding chuckle sounded almost fond as Brook leaped from the railing like he was strung to the sky, easily vaulting over the water onto the bank.

As much as he wanted to stay and watch through the impenetrable layer of smoke, Sanji hurried back to the galley and cranked the stove back on. He’d been preparing for a hearty stew when he’d been first interrupted. A light soup would be a far better alternative. Less time needed to simmer, gentle on a throat and stomach ravaged by nauseous smoke. He could portion up Luffy’s serving with more meat, Robin’s and Nami’s with more of the lighter fare that they preferred.

Robin said his food could contain healing properties. It might be time to put that theory to the test.

He’d only just finished tossing in the diced vegetables when there was a loud thud on deck. In an instant, the promise curled deeply against his chest dissipated. This wasn’t a stranger; a member of Luffy’s court had returned.

Either that, or he was in danger. He preferred to think positively.

Sanji swung open the door with a bang. “Luffy, you’re…”

The creature that crouched on the Sunny’s deck with arms kept close to his chest could only be described as massive. Bleach-white tusks sprouted from his jaw, following down to deep gills in his trunk-like blue neck. Still, the eyes that met Sanji’s own gaze were bright with intelligence, black-and-gray hair combed neatly up and back.

“Who the hell are you?” Sanji asked bluntly, even as the pieces slotted into place. The large chair in the galley, Luffy’s missing court member out on a diplomatic mission… this had to be Jinbe.

“I could say the same,” the whale-man rumbled. “You are drenched in my king’s magic, so I know you are no foe. Introductions will have to wait; do you have experience in healing?”

He shifted his arms to reveal a small body tucked within, broken and limp. Blood trickled from gruesome wounds, crimson pooling against the whale-man’s blue skin.

There was a tattered straw hat on his head.

No, please, no, not him, I can’t lose you too-

Sanji felt himself retreating into the corners of his mind, a numb and familiar space. Emotions clouded judgement, slowed one’s reflexes, rendered a capable man useless.

The lesson had been drilled into him since before he was big enough to wield a broadsword. He was calm. He was quiet. He was functional.

“Bring him to the galley,” he found himself saying, tongue thick and unwieldy. “I might be able to help, at least until Chopper comes.”

“Ah, that might-”

Zoro emerged from the smoke like a man possessed, crashing down onto the deck with none of his usual finesse. His cheeks were painted with soot, blood streaming from numerous slices on his torso and limbs.

His two charges barely stirred when he stumbled to his feet, a little reindeer curled limp in the crook of his arm and Nami’s body draped over his shoulder. Her ginger hair was crimson with blood at the crown of her head.

“Chopper’s out,” Zoro said curtly, bare chest heaving with wheezing breaths. “The village doctor’s dead. Nami would be the third best option. We’re on our own.”

No healer. Three injured. A child, a woman, and Luffy.

Focus.

He reached out to take Nami, mindful of the way Zoro’s legs trembled with exertion-

Zoro snarled, pointed canines bared as his spread threateningly behind his back. There was something animalistic in his eyes as he pulled Nami closer and hid Chopper from view, the faintest whisper of drums.

Sanji didn’t flinch. He’d seen the same look on Zeff, once before, when a guard tried to bodily drag a young Sanji from the palace kitchens. It was protective, it was fierce, and it was love.

“I can help,” he said calmly as he drew his arms back to his sides. “I’m going to try.”

The man’s silver eye narrowed.

“Zoro,” Jinbe said quietly, nodding his chin at a too-pale Luffy. “We are running out of time. Do you trust him?”

“Please,” Sanji said, allowing a tinge of desperation to color the word. “He’s my brother.”

He’d never said that out loud before.

A beat. The furrow in Zoro’s brow softened by a fraction. He nodded.

Gods, he hoped Robin was right about this.

Chapter Text

Sanji had never prepared food so quickly in his life, even during dinner rush at the Baratie.

“What the hell happened out there?” He asked, chopping and dicing and simmering with a fervor.

He would not look at the makeshift cots behind him, would not acknowledge Jinbe’s futile efforts to staunch the blood seeping steadily from Luffy’s wounds with what few medical supplies they recognized from Chopper’s stores.

He did not listen to the wet, rattling sounds that came from Luffy’s chest with every shallow breath.

“There’s more than Marines down there; they had magical creatures hiding in their ranks. Nami went down shielding kids from an attack,” Zoro said shortly. “Chopper was stabilizing her. Luffy threw himself in to defend them both when a Marine saw an opportunity. Everything went to shit.”

Yeah, that sounded like him.

Sanji tried to visualize his magic the way Robin had explained it, pouring molten energy through his hands with the intent to heal, heal, please, save him, heal-

There was a whisper of leaves to announce the arrival of another member of Luffy’s court.

“Jinbe, swap with me,” Robin said breathlessly as she breezed in, limbs sprouting from her body to hold Luffy’s bandages in place. “The fire is too strong; your magic is badly needed.”

She looked, for lack of a better word, charred. The delicate arches of her face were scorched into jagged edges, entire chunks of her body black and crumbling.

“Robin-” He gasped, heedless of Jinbe’s heavy footfall running past.

“I will be fine, little one,” she said with a tired smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. “Continue your work to help our friends, first.”

Sanji hurriedly ladled the soup broth into a wide-rimmed bowl, only years of waiting tables keeping him from spilling a single drop.

Luffy looked ashen, pale lips parted as he heaved shallow breaths. When Sanji pressed the back of his hand to his cheek, it was cold.

“Please work,” He murmured fervently, tilting the bowl towards Luffy’s lips as Robin held him up. “Dammit, work…”

Even in the deepest throes of unconsciousness, there was no need to massage Luffy’s throat, to coax the warm liquid down. With a twitch of his nose, the king of the Sun Court swallowed greedily, leaning into the meal for more until the bowl was drained.

Sanji held his breath, and something shifted.

It should’ve been horrifying, watching Luffy’s wounds start to knit themselves back together, strands of rubbery flesh criss-crossing over gaping crevasses. The horrible snaps and schlecks of bones fusing and returning to their proper place should have made him ill. In actuality, Sanji could only dimly process the relief coursing through his veins, filing it deep, deep away where the rest of his useless emotions resided.

There was still too much blood, too many injuries, but Luffy’s chest wasn’t concave anymore. It worked.

Sanji’s hands shook as he set the bowl back against his side. He had magic. He’d used magic. It should be impossible.

Weak, useless, failure-

He could wield magic. He could save people. What else could he do? Could he extend life, make someone stronger? Could he make himself better, just as strong as Yonji, as fast as Niji, as smart as Ichiji? There was power in his hands, even if he didn’t know how it worked. He just had to figure out how to mold it, how to be better-

Robin’s soft voice slammed him back into his own body. He couldn’t afford to be distracted, not now, not when they needed him and he could actually help.

“It’s working,” She gave him a firm nod, shoulders loosening; she’d hid her anxiety well. Wooden limbs grew to collect and distribute more broth amongst their injured, most of it portioned towards Luffy. “Do you think you can make more, Sanji? Magic is a finite resource, you may feel yourself growing fatigued.”

“Of course.” Sanji said as he stood, then promptly tumbled to his knees in a rush of cold dizziness like a bucket of ice water had been thrown over his head (and he was familiar enough with that particular form of torture).

“Cook-”

“I’m fine,” Sanji grit his teeth, stumbling to his feet and swaying into the counter. “I can save him, Robin. I have to save him.”

She bowed her head. “I understand.”

He glanced to where Zoro stood guard at the door, silver eye unblinking, and got to work.

Sanji still didn’t know how he did it, couldn’t feel the flow of magic down his veins like Robin had described. All he could comprehend was the way he began to feel empty as he prepared more broth, chopped more meat, more vegetables, filling the pot with more than soup. Something blared deep within his gut, a warning that he needed to step away, that he was scraping only bits and pieces from his system.

And it didn’t matter a damn bit.

He dimly registered the arrival of the others, Nami’s bleary awakening as she spoke to Robin in a weak, dazed kind of tone. She needed his food; it would help her. Usopp spoke of injured villagers; he would cook for them. He could save them.

Sanji had always dreamed of having magic, especially after seeing Ace’s fire at work. He’d wished for invisibility, so that he could hide from his father and brothers. As he grew older, he fantasized about having magic that would make him strong, too powerful for a cage.

He finally got his wish, he supposed, though it wasn’t in any form he’d ever imagined. But if it saved Luffy, he’d embrace it with open arms.

His legs buckled again after finishing the second pot; Luffy drank the whole thing. Robin announced that he was stable. But there were still more people he needed to feed, more he needed to do.

“Sanji-”

“Cook-”

Clawing his way up the counter to lean against the stove, Sanji wiped cold sweat from his brow. There was a strangely numb pain in his belly, a gaping emptiness that didn’t compare to hunger.

“Little one,” Robin’s voice whispered. “You’ve done well. Our friends are safe. You must rest now.”

Sanji shuddered, trying vainly to curl around the invisible hole in his core. “Usopp said there were kids,” he said hoarsely. “Among the injured. Will they all make it?”

She didn’t answer.

He picked up a wooden spoon, trying in vain to hold up his body weight against the counter. When warm, muscular arms settled around his middle to keep him upright, Sanji barely startled.

“Keep going,” Zoro said, breath hot against his ear. “I’ve got you.”

Slice the vegetables. Chop the meat. Add to pot. Add the seasonings, add the water, stir.

Save them, heal them, help them.

His stomach burned with freezing fire as unseen fingers clawed at the last dregs of magic, viciously cramping his muscles and sending spasms down his fingers.

Save them. Heal them. Help them.

He was finally good for something. Luffy was alive. He could do so much more.

Save them… heal… them…

Sanji couldn’t feel his hands anymore.

Help them.

… help-

“Pull him, Zoro, pull him out now-”

Sanji gasped as an immovable force tugged him away from the counter, calloused thumbs rubbing warmth back into his fingers, guiding him down to the floor.

No-

He still had so much more he could do. He was useful, he was helpful, he could save them all.

“Shit, he’s bleeding magic,” the voice rumbled against his back. “It’s not stopping.”

Cool fingers stroked his cheek, brushed aside the bangs from unseeing eyes. “Little one, can you hear me?”

He could, he wanted to respond. But he wasn’t finished, hadn’t served the meal-

“Sanji, listen to me,” murmured a satyr’s voice. “You need to pull back your magic. Follow my voice, and pull back your magic.”

He wanted to. There was something alluring about the plea, something that begged him to listen, to take solace in their words. A strange exhaustion ran through his limbs, slipped through his fingers to pull his eyelids down into darkness.

“It’s not working,” the voice whispered, still nectar-rich and soothing to his ears. “I don’t think his body knows how to stop, invoking his name won’t any good in that case; what do we do?”

Nami murmured something, slurred words lilting up into a question.

She was hungry. He was a Cook. Children were hurt, Luffy was hurt, his mom was dying and dead and cold and he couldn’t save her, he couldn’t save any of them-

He drifted, freezing and empty and lost.

The drums started beating, and Sanji shot awake with a gasp.

He wasn’t on the Thousand Sunny anymore. Or, rather, maybe he was, and wasn’t at the same time.

The grass under his body felt warm and lush, heated by the flames of a massive bonfire that sent smoke and flames streaming into the sky. He tasted alcohol on his tongue.

There was raucous laughter, clapping, bare feet dancing around the flames in a giddy rush. He was safe, the music whispered, with the chimes of bells tied around wrists and ankles. Free to fly but never to fall.

With a howl, hordes of wolves swarmed to join the circle, white fur aglow and soft as clouds. They were mesmerizing, jagged maws wide open in delighted triumph, dark eyes alight with mirth.

His heart beat in tune with the drums. The song slowed into deep, steady thrums with the sound of an exhaling sigh. The smoke smelled sweet with woody herbs.

Sanji blinked, and a demon stood before him, clad in a loose robe of green with the wings of night-dwelling creatures postured lazily at his back. His cheeks flushed the red of intoxication, a grin splitting his scarred face.

He held out a hand, an invitation to dance, to join the circle of pride and joy intermingled. It promised a night of relief from soul-aching responsibility. An invitation to the pack, the chain, the net woven from his own soul that would catch him in return.

His forearm was warm when Sanji grasped it and hauled himself to his feet.

Grass became wood, fire became stove, and wolves became men. His arm remained entrapped in Zoro’s firm hold.

Sanji felt drained, starving with a full belly. He also felt safe, with rosemary smoke in his nose and the drums in his chest.

“I thought,” he said with numb lips, head pillowed against Zoro’s chest. “We agreed that you’d stop using your damn Haki on me. Dipshit.”

There was a snort in his ear, and a rough hand sent him sprawling like a ragdoll onto the galley floor.

“You moss-headed fucker-”

“Zoro,” Robin chided, carefully gathering Sanji into her many limbs. Her burns smeared ash on his skin. “He was only just brought back from the brink of magic exhaustion; do try to be more gentle, hmm?”

He could see Zoro lazily posturing with his wings braced against the stove, a dry scowl marring his rugged features.

“And who the hell kept him from dying?” Zoro said petulantly, flashing white fangs. “Dumbass can’t even control his magic.”

“Really, dear swordsman,” Robin said chidingly, and Sanji preened when she tucked his face against her shoulder possessively. “How many years did it take you to control your Nine-Sword Style? I seem to remember somebody recently getting their third head stuck in Sunny’s wall upon materializing, hmm?”

Sanji pasused. Zoro had said his magic. His healing magic. His healing magic that he was trying to save-

“Luffy,” He gasped, forehead almost colliding with Robin in his haste. “Luffy, the kids in the village, Nami, Chopper-”

“They’re fine,” Robin said soothingly. “They’re all fine. I will not lie to you; not everyone in the village has survived this attack. But our friends and the wounded that remained made it through, thanks to you.”

Zoro draped an arm over his own knee, the very picture of indolence. “You were out cold for about an hour. Chopper’s already up and fixing what you left behind.”

“An hour…” Robin mused. “Yes, I suppose that would be the correct amount of time, in human terms.”

There were only bloodstains left staining the floor when Sanji craned his neck to look out at where Luffy had been lying; the injured must have been moved to the healer’s room.

“I should get started on dinner,” Sanji said, gently pushing himself up from Robin’s lap. Everything was spinning. “Everyone must be hungry.”

“Yeah, like that’s not a horseshit idea,” Nami called out from the doorway, painted lips in a frown. “Leaking magic everywhere and getting yourself killed.”

White bandages were wrapped around her forehead, and her pupils couldn’t quite seem to focus as they lingered on Sanji’s face. Whatever she seemed to find, however, had her posture easing.

“Nami…”

He probably should be angry at her for tying him up and leaving him behind. Any ill feelings he could have harbored seemed to slide away like water on sealskin.

She knelt next to him and Robin, shoving a small basket of brightly-colored berries into his lap. In the human world, they’d likely be poisonous. “Chopper says to eat these, they’ll help in restoring your magic. Sleep will take care of the rest; trust me.”

When Sanji popped one in his mouth, it burst into a spray of juices so sour it tasted dry. It would be best treated like lemons, he thought, eating another. Copious amounts of sugar, though adding water to dilute the taste into a citrus drink may also affect the potency. Perhaps there were other fruits that had a similar effect, he could add their juice to the mixture to mellow it out, season it with fresh basil to mask the bitter aftertaste-

“Cook?”

He startled, meeting Nami’s concerned expression.

“I’m so sor-” Sanji froze at her sudden glare. “I mean, can you repeat that, Miss Nami? I didn’t quite catch what you said.”

“I said,” Nami sighed. “That I was wrong. I underestimated you.”

“You couldn’t have known-”

“Shut up and listen, human,” she said irritably, then nodded towards the berries. “I didn’t say to stop eating.”

Sanji automatically obliged, eating steadily as she spoke. He felt a bit better, after.

“I’m only going to say this once, so you’d better pay attention,” Nami took a deep breath. “Some of the Fae… they like to keep humans. As pets.”

This wasn’t news to him; the stories were well-known. Still, he nodded politely, tucked up against Robin’s side. He resolutely ignored Zoro’s annoyed glare with no small amount of satisfaction.

“I was in a… not dissimilar position, once.” she continued, and her fingers hovered over a patch of pearl-like scarring over her upper arm. Whorls of blue tattoos danced over her flesh, ever-changing. They reminded him of the windmills he’d seen from his family’s carriage. “I suppose you understand that, living in a cage.”

Sanji only nodded. There weren’t any words of sympathy he could offer that would soothe the aching pains of captivity she carried. He understood.

“There were a few of these humans, adult ones, who took pity on me since I was a child. They tried to help me.” Her eyes took on a haunted, glassy look. “They never stood a chance, weak and defenseless as they were. I’ve only met two kinds of humans: the cruel ones armed with iron trying to kill me, and the soft ones who get killed. You can guess where I put you.”

“I don’t blame you,” Sanji said honestly. “You were trying to do a noble thing.”

Nami promptly smacked him upside the head. “You’re supposed to hold a grudge, you know.”

It would be impossible to do that with anybody Luffy had designated as a friend, let alone a lovely woman like her. Smart, fearless, strong, beautiful…

“Look,” she said impatiently, snapping in front of his nose to regain his attention. “I don’t have the kind of overflowing magic that lets me grant blessings recklessly, so I have nothing for you. My power only lets me make air hot or cold with mild electricity magic; it’s pure science and my own intelligence that lets me summon storms and the like.”

Her finger poked him in the cheek, hard. “But you did save Luffy’s life. And mine, I guess. So, if you need something that’s within my power to grant and not astoundingly evil or something, I’m by your side.”

“Nami-”

“Don’t wanna hear it,” she stood gracefully, letting no signs of a concussion slip through. “I’m gonna go check on which of our local idiots is getting into trouble. My money’s on Brook.”

Sanji politely waited until the door slammed shut behind her. “So, is Miss Nami…”

“Devoted lover to the queen of the Summer Court?” Robin’s lips curled into a smile as Zoro snickered. “Indeed.”

Sanji sighed, sinking further into Robin’s many limbs. It’d been worth a shot.

Chapter Text

Of all the strangest things about the Feywilds, their messenger system certainly took the cake.

Birds were the natural carrier animals, in Germa at least. Of course, some kingdoms used their own men on horseback. Perhaps something fast and loyal, like hounds.

Snails weren’t on the list of likely candidates. And what’s more, these messenger snails were fucking fast.

The large, leathery creature lounged on Sanji’s gloved palm with a wide mouth complete with a horrifically human set of lips. White, pearly teeth chomped away at the wide leaves of lettuce Sanji had grabbed from the galley. One bulbous half-lidded eye blinked once, then the other.

It was rather charming, if he was being completely honest.

Chuji shuddered from the pocket sewn on the breast of his tunic. It’d been a thoughtful addition from Usopp after the little rat almost slipped and fell from Sanji’s shoulder into a pot of boiling pasta water. Twice.

“I wonder how commonly these little guys are kept as pets,” Sanji said amicably to the little rat. It seemed his days of speaking to small creatures with no way of talking back weren’t quite over, despite his father’s insistence. “Robin said that their excrement makes excellent fertilizer, and they would be extremely effective in the compost bin Franky’s making.”

Despite being only a rodent, the look on Chuji’s little face could only be described as disgusted.

He’d already served breakfast, thank the gods. He suspected that Franky had spent all night working on the gloves currently adorning his hands. At least, that’s what the dark circles under his eyes suggested. They were perfectly fitted around his fingers, thinner than a butterfly’s wings.

“You gotta keep ‘em on if you wanna keep cooking, ‘lil bro,” Franky had told him sternly, Robin at his side. “They’ll keep the magic from leaking outta you. Just until you figure out how to control it, then it’ll be business as usual!”

Breakfast had tasted… bland. He blamed it on stress and exhaustion, even if the crime was unforgiveable. Zeff would have had his hide, even if Luffy’s court had been too polite to say anything  or even dull down their lavish praises.

According to the artificer himself, the gloves were also charmed to keep his hands safe from burns and knife cuts. The old geezer would be jealous. Maybe, if he could see him again, he could ask Franky to make a second pair…

“Ah, Sanji,” Robin said warmly as he slipped back into the infirmary. Already, the burns on her face and arms had regained their normal color, patches still unnaturally smooth amongst her normally chiseled features. “Everyone is here, then. We can get started; we have yet to read the message.”

They’d gathered together in the healer’s room without ever discussing it. With Luffy slumbering peacefully in a nest of blankets and healing herbs, it was really their only option. Where Luffy went, his court followed. Chopper had tried to convince Sanji himself to stay the previous night in the infirmary where he could watch for any lingering effects of magic overuse; he refused.

The smell of antiseptic brought back bad memories. Seemed even magical Fae dabbled in modern medicine.

With every occupant added to the small room, the infirmary had grown larger, extra cots unfurling from the floors as ceilings stretched. Even the doorway had grown to accommodate Jinbe’s bulky frame.

“We would’ve started earlier if someone hadn’t insisted on getting the damn snail a ‘fresh and nutritious treat,” Zoro said, rolling his eye from his post at the foot of Luffy’s bed. “They eat rotten shit, I don’t think they give a damn about a salad.”

If Sanji had extra hands, and the snail had ears, he would’ve covered them. Alas, he didn’t even have a free hand with which to flip him off. A glare had to suffice.

“I think it’s sweet!” Usopp chimed in, ever-helpful. “Poor little guy worked hard to get here so fast, too.”

Brook let out a strange peal of laughter. “Perhaps I should write an ode, then, to this magnificent creature’s feat of haste in even the most mundane of tasks!”

Zoro rolled his eye again. “Are we talking about the snail or the Cook?”

Sanji didn’t have any hands free, but he did have his feet. He managed to only get one good kick in against the immovable lump when Nami cleared her throat.

“If you boys can manage,” she said haughtily, pointing at the wide piece of paper at her feet. “I’d prefer it if your bullshit antics didn’t destroy my map.”

Sanji immediately plonked down on the side of Luffy’s mattress, ears burning. Zoro only smirked.

He’d never actually seen a map of the Feywilds. There likely weren’t many humans who had and survived to tell the tale. It was a bit like a clock, if he was being honest. Spring, summer, autumn, winter, all separated by bodies of water. Exploring the Feywilds in a clockwise direction would allow one to follow the four seasons in order.

Parts of the map, put simply, didn’t make any sense. Lakes were labeled as entire oceans, large swathes of the paper were left entirely blank, and areas that Sanji knew bordered human lands seemed to lead somewhere else entirely.

“Nobody’s ever charted the entirety of the Feywilds before,” Nami said, noting his confusion with a wide grin splitting her face. “It’s always changing. I’ll be the first; there has to be a pattern to it.”

Sanji knelt at her side, tucking the massive snail close to his chest. “What’s in the empty parts?” He asked, pointing towards the blank areas.

“Ruins, mostly,” Nami responded, an eager gleam in her eye. “They’re positively fraught with danger, which is why I plan to make Luffy and Zoro go first when we get around to exploring them. We think they used to be the forgotten courts, including at least Night and Day. That’s more Robin’s area of expertise, though.”

“As much as I would love to regale you with my findings, dear one,” Robin said when he glanced her way, a scroll of paper in her fingers. “We really must get back to the task at hand. Perhaps over tea, later.”

It was overwhelming, his lack of knowledge. Up until a few days ago, he had no idea that humans could even store stocks of magic in their own bodies. According to Chopper, every living creature did; it was only a matter of whether or not it could be wielded.

Somehow, the knowledge of Judge carrying such power with him, even inaccessible, didn’t put Sanji at ease.

“First order of business,” Jinbe rumbled, sitting cross-legged on the floor with a thoughtful expression. “We need to decide who our acting leader is with Luffy out of commission for the time being.”

Robin nodded. “Indeed. Ace and Sabo would be next in line as our king’s designated family. With their whereabouts unknown, the title would normally go to our swordsman as his right wing, but…”

All eyes turned to Sanji.

His cheeks flushed under the attention, unconsciously stroking the snail’s shell in subtle agitation. “That’s not… Luffy and I aren’t related.”

“If blood were a factor, Ace and Sabo would also not be in line,” Robin pressed gently. “And yet, they are. The Fae are far less worried about such trivial distinctions, you’ll find.”

That was news, actually. With their raven hair and matching mischievous grins, he’d suspected that Ace and Luffy shared the same bloodline.

“He’s not… I’m not Luffy’s brother. We just met when we were kids-”

“What, you only call him your brother when it’s convenient?” Zoro cut in dryly. He didn’t seem as upset about the contention for the throne as Sanji thought he’d be, just his normal level of pissy.

“No, I…” Sanji tried, then shut his mouth with an audible clack.

He’d called Luffy his brother, that was true. It’d been a selfish, spur-of-the-moment kind of declaration, and he couldn’t bring himself to take it back. But Luffy…

The king of the Sun Court already had two siblings, kind and strong and capable. In contrast, he had nothing to offer. He was weak, soft, and human. Luffy could do better, had done better.

“I just think,” Sanji said carefully. “That if Luffy were awake, he would say differently.”

There was a beat of silence before the room exploded into a cacophony of voices.

“Are you fucking stupid-”

“Yohoho, Nami, perhaps a gentler approach-”

“Little one…”

“That’s so not cool, ‘lil bro, denying the bond of brotherhood-”

Usopp, at least, spoke in a normal volume.

“Sanji,” he said quietly, taking a seat at his side. “You really don’t… Luffy never stopped talking about you, you know? Everybody who knows Luffy has heard about his Cook. He mourned for you. All of them did.”

Sanji blinked, stunned into a stupor. He’d known about Luffy refusing to hire a cook, but that was just because Sanji was damn good at his job…

Right?

“Everybody who even breathes in Luffy’s direction knows about his dead younger brother,” Zoro said casually, digging around in his ear with a pinky finger. “It’s annoying.”

Sanji blinked, trance shattered. “Younger?” He balked, glancing over to where Luffy drooled into a pile of blankets, hugging a pillow to his stomach like a stuffed animal. “No, I’m significantly older than Luffy, Mosshead, you’re just an idiot-”

“Actually,” Robin interrupted, her lips twitching upwards. “Fae age into their adolescent form much slower than humans. Changelings less so, but slower nonetheless. There’s a very real possibility that in terms of human years, our king shares your years or even surpasses them.”

Sanji massaged his aching temples. Taking a swim in the river outside was sounding more and more tempting by the minute. “Even if I’m a human, at least I’m not the youngest one here.”

Chopper’s nose twitched “Actually-”

“We’re changing the subject,” Sanji said curtly. “Now.”

“For the sake of Luffy’s wishes and out of respect to his lineage,” Jinbe said, clearly taking pity on him. For once, Sanji wasn’t about to complain. “You are our king’s heir. However, perhaps it would be wise for you to elect another member of the court in your stead, seeing as how you’re not as familiar with our world.”

Zoro brushed off his knees. “Exactly. And that’s me. So, let’s get started-”

“I pass the title to Nami.” Sanji interrupted, unable to resist the shit-eating grin that spread across his face.

He could feel waves of Haki pulsing in his direction with a mutinous glare, muted and restrained. It brushed over him with a warm heat. It no longer felt dangerous, not since he’d pulled Sanji back with it.

Nami squealed over the sounds of stifled snickers and clapped her hands together.

“Finally, the power I deserve!” She said dreamily, doing a terrible job of hiding her own giggles. “As your reigning monarch of the Sun Court, I do announce that our meeting is officially in session. Robin?”

Zoro scoffed. “Witch.”

“Pardon?” Nami cupped a hand around her ear, batting her eyelashes. “Is that mutiny I hear? Why, I could have you executed, peasant!”

“Not if I stab you first-”

“I would love to see you try, you dimwitted brute-”

The open scroll fell from Robin’s fingers, and all lightness in the room snuffed out like a candle. As a single unit, Zoro and Nami were at her side in a blink.

Kneeling to read the dropped paper, Nami suddenly barked a word that Sanji strongly suspected was some kind of swear. Her pale face had drained of even more color, if such a thing were possible.

“It’s a message from Robin’s spies,” she summed up simply, jaw tight. “Crocodile’s been sighted at the borders of Germa and Marine headquarters. Sounds like he’s to blame for the sudden village raid; it was definitely a trap meant to catch us unawares. And it worked.”

Based on the sudden intake of breaths, the name was familiar, and not in a good way.

“Crocodile is an old enemy of ours,” Usopp whispered helpfully, nudging Sanji’s side. “We sort of… overthrew his throne in the Summer Court to reinstate its rightful ruler? He and Robin have… a complicated history.”

“I was his master of assassins,” Robin said, voice taking on a tremulous quality despite her flat expression. When Franky lifted his arm, she pressed tight against his side. “It was indeed complex, Usopp, but I did engage in the killing of innocents to save my own skin, as humans would say. That detail must not be omitted.”

She looked scared. He’d seen what Robin was capable of, the torture she could inflict, and all he saw was a terrified friend.

“We won’t let him reach you.” Sanji said firmly. “He won’t hurt you again.”

“Oh, little one,” she whispered, eyes haunted. “That is the last thing I am afraid of.”

Zoro fixed him with a serious expression, tapping at the map. “Cook. If you had to guess, what kind of deal would Judge make with a dangerous Fae?”

Judge, he said. Not your king, not your father, not your family. Just Judge.

Sanji reluctantly passed the snail off to Usopp, wringing his hands. “I’m not sure, exactly.”

“Guess. We have our suspicions.”

“He wants somebody to weaken the Sun Court for him,” Sanji said slowly, hands coming up to pull at his hair in muted frustration. “Send the Marines to draw Luffy out, and hide Faeries in their ranks to blindside him. Once Luffy’s been taken out, he believes his success will be guaranteed. I would expect Germa to attack at any time, with Totto Land as an ally. But I don’t know what Crocodile would have to gain from all this. He’s a Faerie too, isn’t he?”

Robin shook her head. “With the Spring and Sun Court wrapped up in conflict, there will be no allies to defend the Summer Court from his forces.” She said quietly. “He cares only for power; you’ll find that some Fae and humans have that in common. Nami, where is Totto Land? Near the Winter Court, I suspect?”

Nami chewed on her lip. “Yep; I’ll send a snail to Law. They’ll be going on the defense, and the Autumn Court just won’t reach Vivi in time, even if Whitebeard is willing to leave his own territory defenseless.”

“I believe Law goes by Death, now.” Jinbe said gravely. “As he is king, we should perhaps avoid using part of his true name. Although, that hasn’t stopped our own…”

She scoffed. “Stupid moniker. Vivi’s is much better.”

“Alright,” Zoro spoke over the clamor. “Here’s our plan. Franky, Brook, send warnings to Law and Vivi. Robin, Jinbe, you’re in charge of coordinating with Shanks to ready a defense with his forces on the border. Even if they don’t make it in time, some help is better than nothing. I guess someone should let Whitebeard know what’s going on.”

His eye roved around the room, silver turning red. “Crocodile and Judge most likely believe that Luffy is dead after taking out all healers; they’ll expect us to be in disorganized mourning. Take advantage of that. We’ll just have to wait and see where the Marines strike next, not much we can do about that.”

Nami hummed. “I’ll chart our course back to the border.”

“Chopper, work on replenishing our medical supplies. Usopp, artillery. Cook’s on cooking, obviously. If you can spare it, prepare meals that aid in strength, stamina, and healing. Do not kill yourself.”

Sanji bit his tongue and nodded.

“You have your assignments. Understood?”

Nobody mentioned that he technically wasn’t in charge. The resounding chorus of “aye!” was enthusiastic enough, anyway.

Sanji felt like he should be tracking all the names and titles being tossed around. At the moment, everything seemed to just swim around in his head. He’d need to ask Robin for a lesson in court politics. Assuming they all survived, that is.

Even in an entirely different realm, his father somehow always found a way to haunt him.

Chapter Text

Soapy suds spread over the murky water, reflecting iridescent rainbows from the floating lights dotted around the galley. Were he not wearing gloves, Sanji’s fingers would be pruned and wrinkled after the sheer number of dishes he’d washed.

He wasn’t too proud to admit that he was stress-baking. At least the ship’s inhabitants seemed appreciative enough.

Luffy hadn’t woken up yet. Chopper said this was normal, that even with his and Sanji’s magic combined that his body merely needed time to recover. The ship was too quiet.

Part of him hoped that the mere presence of dozens of his favorite foods would send him barreling into the galley. He’d come bouncing in with a wide grin and excited exclamations on his lips before promptly devouring the entire table of food, stuffing a honeyed ham (at least, the meat seemed pork-like) into his gaping maw.

Nothing would go to waste, at least. Franky had assured him that the freezing box would keep food fully preserved, just as Germa packed the meat of their fresh hunts into snowbanks during the harsh winter months (which were, Nami had explained, a direct result of their location so close to both the Spring and Winter Courts).

“Oi, shit-cook,” Zoro’s sudden presence almost made him drop the pot he was holding. “C’mere, I’m gonna show you something.”

Sanji didn’t bother looking up from his work. “If you feel that way about my cooking, you can just starve.”

That was a lie. Zoro’s taunting smirk showed that he knew it, too.

“… there’s a few savory pastries on the left. Your other left, idiot-”

Taking into account everyone’s particular tastes had been a simple affair. Zoro steered clear of sweet foods, for example, and often dumped them onto Chopper’s plate, who hoarded them with sticky hooves. Nami, Robin, and Jinbe all enjoyed use of fresh fruits and vegetables. Brook, Usopp, and Franky preferred stronger flavors. Luffy just liked everything.

Sans Zoro’s dislike for the stuff, it was kind of cute to watch the court’s reactions to anything made with milk and honey. Zeff hadn’t been exaggerating; the Fae really did have a love for such offerings. Even Robin would let out a happy little hum when taking a bite of honeyed cake soaked in sweet milk, little lilac flowers sprouting in her hair.

It scared him how quickly a group of strangers had grown dear to him. Part of him worried that it was simply his own desperation for human(ish) contact after his extended isolation in the dungeons.

“You can keep washing up later,” Zoro strode forward to snatch the clay bowl from Sanji’s hands, tossing it in the sink (running water was a strange luxury). “I’m busy.”

“This another one of your field trips meant to scare me off, Mossy?” Sanji asked irritably. “Considering I think I literally saw Luffy’s guts yesterday, we’re a bit past that point, aren’t we?”

Zoro scoffed. “We’re not even leaving the ship, curly-brow.”

It would be difficult to go for a walk in the forest, Sanji admitted, considering that they were currently traveling down the river towards the border at a breakneck pace. He felt guilty about leaving the village to rebuild entirely on their own with only piles of food and resources. They all did.

That there wouldn’t be a village to rebuild if Germa conquered the Spring Court went unsaid.

Just to be petty, Sanji slowly finished washing and drying the bowl Zoro had so rudely discarded. Then the rest of the wooden spoons, just because. By the time he turned around with an apron slung over an arm, Zoro’s patience had clearly waned.

“Just hurry up,” he hissed, eye twitching. “Try not to get lost.”

As promised, they didn’t leave the ship. But while Sanji had expected to be led inside to one of the ship’s many rooms, he was instead dragged deeper into the tangerine trees. Bright citrus perfumed the air, sweet and delicate.

Nami had given him permission to pick and eat them as he wished while strong-arming him into resting after the battle. She showed him how to make pinwheels from the rind, told him her mother taught her how to do so.

The use of past tense when talking about her mother didn’t go unnoticed. It seemed he and Nami had more in common than just captivity.

And while her orchard was most certainly charmed like the rest of the ship to be bigger in size, it certainly wasn’t large enough to still be wandering aimlessly after twenty minutes.

“Oi, Mosshead,” Sanji called out. “You usually get lost on your own ship?”

Zoro grunted, not turning around. “Damn witch makes the trees move.”

His ears were turning red, Sanji noted with a grin. Taunts flowed easily in the ten extra minutes it took to reach their destination.

When Sanji took a step into the little clearing, the very air seemed to shift. A light breeze tousled his hair, the coolness of night turning delightfully warm. The sound of running water was replaced by crashing waves, and he smelled salt alongside the border of citrus trees.

The first thing he saw were the moonflowers, carpeting the grass in a thick blanket. Amongst them lay a picnic blanket and a tattered straw basket, carefully stuffed with ripe tangerines. The entire area was packed full of what seemed like… trash.

Sanji kneeled to touch the achingly familiar cloth. He’d packed it every day in the very same little basket stuffed full of goods to share with Luffy and his brothers.

“Where did Luffy even get this?” He asked softly, the fabric worn and soft under his fingers. “I thought I left these at the Baratie.”

Zoro grunted. “Before we invaded Germa, Luffy insisted on getting your old man out first. Took Nami over a week to convince him to leave under the guise of making sure the refugees were fed. He owns a floating restaurant off the eastern coast now; Luffy checks in on him. Clears out his stock at the same time.”

The old man was certainly stubborn, Sanji thought fondly as his chest ached with longing. “He really did that for Zeff?”

“He did it for you.”

Sanji delicately cupped his hand under a flower, voice thick. “… I see.”

Zoro shrugged, jostling the wings on his shoulders. “He also robbed the guy, but the old man definitely saw Luffy grabbing your shit and didn’t stop him.

He looked closer at the piles of objects stacked around the clearing. There were dented copper pots and pans, dozens of little wooden figurines, shiny blue baubles and worn leather books. When Sanji opened one, the language was unfamiliar, but a sketched drawing of a sliced fish underneath suggested it was some kind of cookbook.

Sanji picked up a wooden fish, the scales meticulously carved. It seemed like it could come alive and swim away at any second.

With a snort, Zoro deftly plucked the figurine from Sanji’s fingers, examining it briefly. “Thought that looked familiar. Usopp was wondering where it went.”

“What is this place?” Sanji asked quietly. “And why’s there all this… stuff here?”

Zoro’s brow shot up to his forehead, and Sanji grit his teeth. “Really hasn’t hit you yet?”

“Enlighten me.”

“All Fae are driven by the obsession to hoard something,” Zoro offered, expression impassive. “I have a whole room of swords. Nami collects old maps and gold, and you’ve already seen Robin’s library. We all have something like that, and a place we keep it.”

“Luffy used to gather weird rocks,” Sanji recalled. “River pebbles; he made his shorts fall down from stuffing the pockets.”

There was a snort. “Sounds like him. Now he collects shit he thinks you would’ve liked.”

Sanji’s breath caught in his chest. “What?”

Zoro sat heavily next to him in the grass. “The Fae believe that when someone dies, they can only pass on if they have no unfulfilled promises. Otherwise, their spirit lingers until their oath is fulfilled, lost and suffering unless they’re released or find an anchor.”

“I promised to return to them,” Sanji whispered in dawning horror. “I didn’t… you don’t mean…”

He nodded. “They never stopped looking for you. Luffy built this place in the hopes that it’d attract you like a fly to rotting fruit or whatever. It’s how we met; the three of them broke into my family home to plead favor from my sister.”

“Your sister?”

“Sees dead people. Couldn’t find you, obviously. And she actually tried, for once. Felt sorry for them, I think.”

When Zoro leaned back, the stars reflected in his silver eye. “Ace and Sabo aren’t off doing diplomacy; that’s just what they tell Luffy to keep him from abandoning his post. They’re following a lead on a way to track down spirits.”

Utterly unaffected by Sanji’s trembling shoulders, Zoro rifled around for a moment before snatching up a broken frame and thrusting it into his hands. “Here. Luffy was excited about this one. Robin found it when we raided the castle.”

Sanji looked upon his mother’s face for the first time since just after her funeral, when Judge ordered all portraits destroyed. This one must have escaped the purge, corners cracked and faded. He’d forgotten the fine arches of her cheeks, the way her blonde hair curled just-so at her shoulders. Her smile was soft, eyes alight with mirth and wonderfully blue.

They were the same color as the moonflowers, and Sanji’s own. How had he forgotten?

The salt stung Sanji’s cheeks, and not just from the traces of an ocean breeze.

“Why show me all this?” He asked hoarsely, hastily wiping at his face.

“Because insinuating you’re anything less than his brother is a disrespect to Luffy,” Zoro said seriously, catching his eye. “And my loyalty is to my king.”

Sanji traced the lines of his mother’s face. “Than-”

“Don’t finish that sentence. Just… do better.”

That managed to drag a dry snort from his throat. “Ass.”

The salty air made Sanji yearn for the ocean, to finally see the waves he could hear crashing down in whatever strange illusion or pocket realm he currently sat in. Maybe, when everything was over and it was all safe, he’d ask Luffy to take him to the eastern coast.

Telling Zeff he wasn’t alive wasn’t an option, even if he wanted desperately to do so, to smell the cloud of cigar smoke that seemed to linger around the old man’s shoulders and hear the step-thunk of an uneven gait.

He would not bring the Vinsmokes to the geezer’s front door.

But maybe, selfishly, he could look from afar. See the ocean, and the new restaurant Zeff created, watch the old man go out on deck for a smoke break. He’d ask Nami (not Luffy, Luffy would almost certainly tell on him) to bring him back a plate so he could taste the old geezer’s cooking one more time. That would be enough.

Hell, he even missed Carne and Patty. If Zeff had made it out, it was guaranteed that his staff were also fine. He wouldn’t have left, otherwise. The old chef was kind amongst all his gruffness, and far better than Sanji deserved.

“You know,” Zoro said, abruptly snapping him from the grips of melancholy, only to plunge him into something far worse. “You know the Germish princes and princess may be there, right? When we fight.”

Sanji sucked in a deep breath, trying vainly to control the way his heartbeat galloped at the thought. “Ichiji won’t be. Father keeps him close, as the heir. Neither of them will be fighting on the front lines.”

“Coward.”

That managed to drag a dry chuckle from him. “You think?”

“They think you’re dead. Robin made sure of it.”

“I’m aware.”

“What do you want to do?” Zoro asked bluntly, and the concept of having a choice was more earth-shattering than it should have been.

Sanji cradled his mother’s portrait close to his chest. What would she have wanted, if she were still alive?

She’d hated it when Judge pitted her sons against each other in bloody combat, even if the fight was fair (and between Sanji and his brothers, it never was). She wouldn’t want to see her children at war.

Even if he had a blade to Niji’s neck, he wouldn’t be able to do it. He wouldn’t be able to snuff out even the life of his father, let alone any of his siblings. It was weak, and soft, and he didn’t know why he still cared.

Don’t let either of our worlds make you hard, Robin had told him.

His mother had wanted him to be happy, to be free in a way she never was in life. Luffy made him happy. Luffy made him free.

“I want to fight,” he decided, setting the portrait down. “I’m going to defend this place. But I won’t be able to kill my family.”

He half-expected Zoro to argue, to call out his cowardice. Instead, he only nodded.

“I won’t pretend to understand,” Zoro said slowly, thumbing at the white hilt of one of his swords. “But I can respect it. If you want to show your face to Germa’s army, I won’t stop you. But I would recommend some sort of disguise. Usopp can make you a mask.”

Attracting attention to himself would only bring more difficulty for Luffy. He would cover his brow, for him. Vinsmoke Sanji died a long time ago; it was only Blackleg that remained.

Zoro tapped his swords. “If you want weapons, you’ll have your pick. Usopp specializes in long range, while Nami has a collection of magicked staffs. You’d be good with a sword, based on what I’ve seen in your knife skills.”

Sanji smirked, wiggling his toes. The shoes Usopp had given him were far stronger than they appeared. Just that morning he’d solidly stubbed his toe on a table leg, and there’d been no pain. “I think I’m good.”

“I’d assumed you just weren’t in your right mind during our fight, not requesting any weapons,” Zoro’s brow shot up. “You really just fight with your legs? Why?”

“Because,” Sanji said with a grin. “A chef never fights with his hands.”

Chapter Text

Sanji didn’t look half-bad as a forest spirit, he thought.

The forest seemed to agree with his assessment as he stepped foot off the gangplank, flowers slowly winding around his feet. Trees swayed in the breeze, rustling leaves sending down a fervor of pleased whispers, less a language and more a feeling.

“Yes, he does look nice in green, doesn’t he?” Robin said amicably, reaching down to gently untangle the blooms from Sanji’s feet. “Many children of the forest prefer to wear delightful facial coverings of all kinds of materials due to their mischievous natures; we are lucky to have such a skilled satyr craftsman in our midst.”

She stood to fiddle with the wooden mask secured over Sanji’s face while Usopp preened, then tugged the earth-hued hood of his cloak further over his hair and rounded ears. The lightweight mask had been intricately carved into the shape of a ram, rounded horns curling back over the sides of his head.

“There,” she said with a smile, and nudged the encroaching blooms away again with her foot. “You make a very cute forest spirit, if I may say so.”

Sanji was suddenly glad that his face was covered for the way it flushed scarlet, shoulders similarly so under the layers of soft weaves and flexible fighting leathers. If anybody else called him that word (except Nami, of course), he’d kick them within an inch of their lives. But from Robin’s lips…

It was okay, he supposed.

“Yeah, Cook, you look cute,” Usopp snickered, then squawked when Sanji stomped on his hoof, hard. “Nevermind, I take that back, you’re more a demon than Zoro, I surrender-”

“Alright,” Nami clapped her hands together, giving the pair a dirty look. “The Winter Court sent word that they’re ready to receive any soldiers Totto Land sends out, so that leaves us to defend the Spring Court border until Shanks’ men arrive. We have no idea what to expect, and we’re likely doomed. Sound good?”

Someone raised a hand.

“Usopp, put that down, or so help me-”

Zoro pinched the bridge of his nose. “You have your positions. Jinbe, you and I will take the first line at the river. Use your water magic to flush them out. Nami, Usopp, you stay high and take out enemies from afar and relocate as appropriate. Chopper is back on the ship; bring any injured to him.”

Sanji gnawed at his bottom lip. “Are we sure it’s a good idea to leave the little guy alone to guard Luffy? What if someone boards the ship?”

He received only blank-eyed stares in response.

Robin tilted her head to the side, then blinked. “You have not borne witness to Chopper’s transformative abilities, have you?”

“What do you mean by that-”

“Franky and Brook,” Zoro said loudly. “Will be behind me and Jinbe on the left. Cook and Robin are on the right.”

“Whose right?” Brook interrupted politely. “You see, the right could refer to either side if we take into consideration the point of view.”

“Same thing.”

Over Zoro’s shoulder, Sanji could see Franky catching Robin’s eye and pointing to his left.

It was clear that Luffy’s court still didn’t trust him to hold his own in battle just yet. Robin was only paired with him due to her ability to be everywhere at once, even if that included saving Sanji’s ass.

He was going to prove them wrong. He had to.

“This is some great planning and all,” Nami chimed in, and Sanji couldn’t disagree; Zoro’s battle knowledge rivaled even Ichiji’s. “But Sanji, you should know that our fight plans always go to shit. Just stick close to Robin, okay?”

Nami was just being kind, Sanji repeated to himself, steadfastly refusing to feel anger towards a lady. She just wanted to keep her friends safe.

The leaves of the nearby trees stiffened, slowly shaking and rustling with an undercurrent of what Sanji had come to recognize as worry. Flowers at his feet brushed against his ankles as though trying to provide a semblance of comfort.

“It’s time, isn’t it?” He asked out loud, and Robin nodded.

“You’ve picked up the language of the forest faster than I expected, little one,” she said with a smile, taking him by the hand to lead him away as the others scattered. “The trees are quite pleased with your progress.”

Sounds of armored footfall drew near, heavy clanks of iron armor of weapons deafening amongst the quiet life of the forest’s inhabitants. There was no clomp of horse hooves; Robin had assured him that the Germish army knew better than to try and lead such creatures into the Feywilds.

Animals would always side with nature. The first time they attempted to invade, Germa’s men were trampled to death by their own steeds. Sanji still remembered the haunted retellings of the battle from the guards outside his cell.

Robin halted, crossing her arms. At their very feet, saplings began to sprout and grow, intertwining with their elders to form protective barriers behind them. While her magic always seemed so effortless, her face was now pinched in concentration, jaw clenched and shoulders shaking.

A battlecry resounded through the trees. There was a rush of water, the sounds of screams and clattering metal.

She stilled, eyes half-lidded. “Ah, that would be Jinbe.”

“Is there a chance that nobody will get through?” Sanji asked curiously, noting the distant sound of drums that now made him feel more hunter than prey nowadays.

Robin shook her head. “There are simply too many. Some men will skirt around the conflict entirely, which is why we are stationed on the sides. Do not worry, little one. We have survived far worse.”

Sanji bristled. “I’m not scared.”

“Your heartbeat says otherwise,” she said chidingly. “But do not fear; only one without any sanity is unafraid of battle.”

“I don’t think Luffy knows the meaning of the word scared.”

“Yes. My statement remains solidly true.”

Sanji couldn’t help but snort at that.

The minutes that followed were silent save for the ambiance of an ongoing fight, but no less companionable. Robin remained entirely unflappable, both of them unarmed with postures kept loose.

Even when the first soldier ripped through the trees, her gaze didn’t even flicker away from Sanji as a branch whipped out to cleanly snap his neck in a single blow.

The wave of soldiers that followed was much, much more daunting.

“Are you ready, Cook?”

Sanji slipped his hands into the baggy pockets of his garb and bounced lightly on the balls of his feet.  “You can count on me.”

In a single movement, Robin breezed to stand just ahead, stance spread protectively. Roots flung themselves from her feet, her body, her own arms, whipping through the air with the litheness of a spider. Iron-tipped arrows thudded harmlessly against her woven barriers, going from shield to weapon in a matter of seconds.

The resulting screams were horrible, the tang of blood unmistakable as it splashed and splattered onto bark-covered trees and warm earth.

She was defending herself, he tried to remind himself. They attacked first, they meant to kill and go on to do far worse to the nearby settlements. Robin was no monster, not to him.

For a minute, Sanji wondered if he would even be able to fight. His companion moved too fast to track, despite her feet never leaving the ground.

“Get ready, Cook!”

It didn’t take a genius to see that the first soldier let past Robin’s protective ire was significantly less brawny than his companions, just enough to make sure Sanji felt like he was helping while ensuring he wouldn’t be in any real danger.

Sanji would have to prove himself.

He still remembered the first time Zeff taught him how to fight. The new palace chef had caught him sniveling and bloody in the halls, child-sized bootprints marring his skin. When the old man hefted him to the feet by the collar of his tunic, there was no pity in his eyes.

“You’re late to your lesson,” he’d said gruffly. “If I’m gonna risk my neck and go against the king’s orders to teach you how to cook, I expect you to be on time. Understand?”

As a child, he’d only sniffled and tried vainly to stop the tears leaking down his cheeks. And when Zeff bodily dragged him to the stables, he fully expected to be given a punishment that involved more pain and bruises than he could bear.

He hadn’t expected for Zeff to teach him how to be light on his feet, how to throw devastating kicks that were far more effective than any sword forced upon him. For the first time, Sanji learned how to protect himself.

And afterwards, the old man sat Sanji down on a wooden stool in the kitchen, tossed him a roll of bandages and a wet rag, and started showing him how to make a simple onion soup that they later served to the palace staff.

He’d taught Sanji pride, and now his heel slammed against the jaw of the approaching soldier with the force of a devastating mace.

The man crumpled like wet parchment, very much alive even as air whistled through ruined teeth. He couldn’t bring himself to finish the job, even if it would be kinder that way. Germa did not bring home wounded soldiers. He would eventually die out here, slowly and alone.

Sanji raised his foot, leg shaking. A single strike to the neck would do it. It would be swift and painless. Merciful.

“Cook.”

His gaze wrenched up to meet Robin’s, her eyes soft and understanding. The soldier’s wheezing groans were suddenly silenced, roots retreating back to her wooden body.

She would be the monster, he realized, if it meant he didn’t have to be.

It seemed he’d at least proven himself worthy of participating in the battle, based on the number of men that slipped past her defenses. Zeff’s lessons came back like they’d never stopped, the voice in his head that told him to dodge, roll, and strike sounding more and more like the old man himself.

Or, perhaps, Sanji realized, there were simply too many for even Robin to contain on her own.

Aim for the weak spots, the geezer reminded him. Even the strongest kick cannot break past full plate. Find the gaps, exposed slivers at the neck, the shoulders, the back of the knees.

Though certainly far stronger than he’d been when Luffy first found him, his muscles quickly began to ache, a fierce cramp buzzing at his shins from the repeated abuse.

He also felt powerful as three, four, five more men fell to his feet. Germa’s soldiers had never shown him any mercy, had jumped at the chance to beat upon a defenseless child simply for the crime of being weaker than them. Luffy had given all Germish people the chance to flee, after all. They had spat in the face of mercy.

Vengeance wasn’t a good look on him. Cruel satisfaction burned through his body nonetheless.

A blade slid past his defenses, nicking his mask and instantly sobering up the bloodlust pumping through his veins. Though the impact would leave a nasty contusion based on the screaming pain of his orbital bone, it was better than losing an eye.

He’d have to thank Usopp, later.

There were too many soldiers. The slate-gray armor of Germa was mixed with men in gaudy-colored insignias of red and pink; the alliance with Totto Land had succeeded, it seemed.

Sanji growled as a sword sliced through his bicep, the searing pain accompanied by the nauseating sensation of acid eating through flesh. His opponent earned a heel up into the fleshy part of their jaw in return. When the soldier fell, three more took his place.

Dodge, strike, dodge, roll. Another cut, another bruise, and hot blood stained his tunic.

While Robin fought silently, he could see the exhaustion weighing down her shoulders, the quiet stutter of her graceful limbs when a silver blade drove through her roots.

She was trying to reach him, Sanji could tell, just as he was fighting to join her. The opposing forces between them only grew broader with every passing second, the river of men wider with time and numbers.

He smelled something sweet, familiar. Not like Robin’s flowers, or like the sugar he caramelized into candy for Chopper. No, this smell was cloying, stinging his nostrils and making him dizzy.

Reiju-

A flash of pink in his peripheries was the only warning Sanji got before a force slammed viciously against his side with unnatural speed. In only a blink as he pinwheeled for balance, her fist drove straight into his upper abdomen.

Hitting the liver was one of the easiest ways to incapacitate a person in a single strike, Sanji recalled dully before his entire world exploded into a bright cloud of pain.

He was barely aware of being slung over his sister’s shoulder as he gasped fruitlessly for air, limp as a newborn kitten. When Reiju began running, he could only hear Robin’s scream, a guttural sound of terror and rage.

The forest reached for him in vain, thorny limbs tugging at his clothes, his captor’s face and arms. Reiju was simply unstoppable.

Sanji had only just caught his breath when she threw him against the ground, knocking whatever air he’d managed to swallow right back out of his lungs. He was utterly helpless as she kneeled on his body, holding back his wrists with only a single hand.

She was crying.

“You killed him,” Reiju hissed, teeth bared in a savage snarl. Her sharp knees dug into the divots of Sanji’s hips. “He was yours, damn you. He was yours, you were supposed to save him.”

He wasn’t aware that she’d known about his trips to the forest, his playdates with the changelings. In hindsight, he shouldn’t have doubted her at all.

Sanji could only gasp for air, his entire abdomen throbbing with a numbing pain. “Rrr… Re…”

Her tears splashed against his mask. Somehow, that hurt him more than any blow.

“I will kill you,” she spat, their mother’s blue eyes hardening into something dangerous. “I will kill you, and the rest of the Sun Court, and save your boy-king for last to burn the corpses of his claimed. I should have killed him when I had the chance, but I thought-”

Her breath shuddered. “Your king murdered the only good thing left in this world.” She whispered. “Your deaths combined cannot hope to avenge him.”

She shifted to grab her poisoned blade, and the sudden rush of oxygen shot through Sanji’s blood with a burst of adrenaline.

“Reiju, stop,” he managed to blurt. “It’s me, it’s Sanji!”

Her gaze shuttered, then smoothed out into something emotionless. She’d always been a master of masks.

“If you have stolen his face,” Reiju said slowly. Her hand was a vice-like grip around his wrists; he couldn’t feel his fingers anymore. “I will take you with me so that I have all the time in the world to carve the flesh from your bones with a silver knife.”

“You like apples,” Sanji rambled. “You got in trouble with Zeff for trying to breed them into producing higher levels of cyanide in their seeds. But you never told anyone you actually just liked them that way. You always stole my apple cores.”

Her expression did not change, but Sanji could see the minute twitch of her lips. “Only the real Sanji would avoid stating the obvious. A faerie has no heartbeat.”

 A cold hand released his wrist to prod against the fleshy part of his jaw and the pulse underneath. For only the briefest of seconds, her face crumpled into an expression of pure relief.

“You’re alive.”

Sanji sat up when she rolled to the side, slipping off his mask. “Reiju, you-”

A finger pressed to his lips, then slid to cradle his face for only a moment. “Run to the east. I will keep our soldiers from moving that way, and you will wait out the rest of this battle unharmed.”

“Wait, no-”

“I hope,” she murmured, and carefully slid his mask back into place. “That I never see your face again.”

Only from Reiju would such a statement actually be something affectionate, kind, and gentle.

“I don’t-”

“Goodbye, Sanji.”

And then she was gone.

She’d mourned for him. His sister thought he would be saved.

She’d left him, again.

Sanji’s nails bit half-crescents into his palms as he clenched his hands into fists. Her perfume lingered in the air, sickly-sweet, the only lasting memory of the eldest Vinsmoke. He loved her. He hated her. He wanted her to stay and despised himself for it.

His breath caught in his throat, heartbeat pounding in his ears.

Stop. Stop, get it together, you have to be strong-

Niji’s laughter echoed through the battlefield, and Sanji fell apart.

The sunlight couldn’t cut through the darkness of his eyelids, the darkness of his cell, of the dungeon that he’d never escaped. His hands were heavy on his head, tugging at his hair in a feeble attempt to ground himself in the pain and assurance that there was nothing over his head.

His wheezes fell hard and heavy in his ears, choked attempts to settle the pit in his chest and the blinding panic that tore through him like a hurricane.

He was going to die down there. He’d never left, not really. It’d been nearly ten years, or was it longer? He was young, he was old, he was an empty shell that threatened to shatter like glass-

The forest heard their child cry, attempts to soothe him with moonflowers that wound around his legs rendered futile, leaves quivering in dismay. They looked elsewhere to provide comfort, whispering to the creatures that ran underfoot and made their homes in the branches, sending out a plea, a message to a little rat that had eaten food utterly drenched in a child’s unsteady magic and remained forever changed.

Time passed. Seconds, minutes, hours, the forest did not know. Such distinctions were meaningless to the ancients.

There was a squeak, and Sanji stirred, empty eyes stirring into something curious, confused.

“Ch-Chuji?” Sanji called out, chest fluttering.

Scampering up his clothes, Chuji settled on his shoulder, warm fur tickling under Sanji’s jaw. He was warm, and alive, and safe.

Slowly, too slowly, his heart rate began to settle, breathes deepening into a steady rhythm. He wasn’t alone, he was fine, he wasn’t there anymore, he told himself.

Sanji couldn’t help the scream of frustration that escaped him when the leaves rustled in warning, marking the arrival of two soldiers that strode warily through the trees. Based on the amount of twigs jutting through the gaps of their armor, they’d narrowly escaped his dryad companion.

He knew what they saw. A forest spirit, trembling and unarmed on the ground, blood trickling steadily from multiple shallow wounds. Their eyes lit up with greed and bloodlust.

Securing a trophy from a Fae kill resulted in extra pay, extra meals, better armor. A fistful of hair, masks, flesh, it didn’t matter. When a guard had shown Sanji a too-small pair of bloodstained shoes that afforded him a cushy assignment in the dungeons, he’d vomited in his cell.

Sanji felt worn-out, hollow, overstretched. He also felt dangerous as he rose to his feet, weaponless and deadly.

There was a swing of a claymore, heavy and silver. It meant to sever his head from its shoulders. It was also slow, a weapon meant for broad sweeps against throngs of foes rather than a single man.

He rolled easily, the attack missing him comfortably by several centimeters. What he didn’t account for was the small animal on his shoulder, who didn’t stand a chance in hell of holding on and was instead flung squarely between Sanji and the nameless soldiers, landing in a little divot in the ground.

Sanji wasn’t fast enough. Chuji was effectively stunned, unable to escape. The soldier raised an armored boot into the air.

It came down with a sickening snap, and Sanji screamed.

Chapter Text

He’d once wondered how Robin could rip a man apart.

Sanji blinked, and there was blood in his mouth, tunic stained crimson with gore. There was a cut on his hand, bruised knuckles, and he didn’t care. All he felt was a burning rage that torched his bones and a hollow wave of loss that the whimpering of the miserable creatures at his feet couldn’t hope to abate.

Panting, he swallowed down the bile in his throat. He was so tired. They’d taken everything from him. His childhood. The ability to look behind and not flinch at the shadows. Years lost with Ace, Luffy, Sabo. Zeff.

Now, they’d taken too much. Now, he only wished he’d learned how to prolong their suffering.

He was straddling the man whose boot hit the earth with a horrifying crunch, bruised and beaten hands wrapped around his throat. He could feel the heavy pulse fluttering under his fingertips, and felt nothing.

His father would probably be proud.

The man was dying, face turning purple. His hands, which had been scratching at Sanji’s arms, went limp.

Something ripped him away from his kill, and Sanji let out a primal scream. The bindings were tight, immovable to his claws, bites, and pleas.

 The plum-faced man gasped alive with a shuddering breath.

“Cook, stop.” Robin whispered from disembodied lips, body nowhere near. “You’re hurting yourself. This isn’t you.”

There were garbled words coming from his lips, threats and curses. They killed him, he sobbed, over and over again. They killed him.

Twin snaps of frail necks at the hands of wooden limbs, and the struggles of the Germish soldiers ceased. The silence was deafening.

Robin’s limbs held him in a tight embrace as he slumped, fire extinguished. They mimicked a rocking motion. He was so tired.

“Breathe, little one. Your friend is unharmed.”

He fought against the branch that tried to turn his chin, shutting his eyes. He didn’t want to see what was left, stomped flat into bloody little smears against the ground.

There was a little squeak, and his eyes flew open.

Chuji lay huddled under a pile of shattered roots, whiskers trembling. The wooden limbs had protected him, Sanji realized, crunching under a boot like crushed bones.

The forest protected Their own.

Robin said nothing when Sanji voided the contents of his stomach, merely pulling him away from his own sick and gently depositing Chuji’s frightened form into his palms. When Sanji looked back, the bodies of the men she’d disposed of were gone.

Sanji should feel happy. Relieved. It would be normal to smile, or even cry. He just felt numb.

“I almost killed them.” He murmured. Chuji’s heart pitter-pattered against his skin. “With my hands.”

She sighed, gently brushing leaves from his hair. “You would have been justified, I believe. Nonetheless, I am glad to have found you in time. That kind of burden is not yours to carry.”

Her voice was airy, strained despite the soft comfort she gave so willingly.

“Robin?”

“Yes?”

“You’re in combat, aren’t you?” Sanji asked.

Her tone was regretful. “Yes. I’ve cocooned myself in roots so that I could devote myself to searching for you, but I fear that I am running out of time.”

“Go,” Sanji said firmly. “I’m fine.”

He couldn’t see her face, but he could feel her chiding smile. “You will be.”

Then it was just Sanji again, his oldest friend cradled in his damaged hands.

Chuji only nuzzled at his fingers, still stunned from his hard hit against the ground. He was so small.

“I’m sorry.” Sanji murmured, trembling finger scratching a furry cheek. The trees shifted in dismay.

He heard the drums again before he saw him, felt squeezed by the oppressive aura that settled over his skin. He knew, without consulting Robin on the intricacies of Haki, that a man deemed foe would crumple under the all-encompassing pressure.

It felt more like an embrace to Sanji.

Zoro soared bare-chested above, broad wings spread wide against the sunlight. He looked strong, noble. Two swords in his hands, one in his mouth, multiplied into three heads and six arms that shifted ethereally in a haze of purple.

Their eyes met. All three of Zoro’s mouths opened to call something out. A warning, maybe, or a taunt, maybe even a well-meaning check-in. Either way, he never got the chance to say it.

The net came out of nowhere, shot up from below the treeline and entangling Zoro’s wings, sending him plummeting down with a howl of rage. Only iron would be strong enough to take him down; the forest was too quiet without his demonic Haki.

Sanji was already up and running before Zoro’s body disappeared from sight, Chuji tucked carefully into his pocket. He was tired, and numb, and fed up with his father’s men trying to take away everything and everyone he’d only just started rebuilding a semblance of a life with. His battered hands ached.

In comparison to it all, trying to save someone he might dare to call a friend was an easy decision. At the least, Luffy loved Zoro. That was reason enough.

He was the first one to reach the fallen Fae, who looked more beast than man with snarling canines and flesh that blistered and bubbled as he thrashed within the net’s confines. He must have dropped his swords; it was better than being impaled upon landing.

“Stop struggling, dumbass!” Sanji snapped, hands slipping into Franky’s gloves as he tried in vain to pull at the writhing net. “You’re only making it worse!”

The color seemed to drain from Zoro’s copper skin as precious seconds passed, his struggling growing weaker. Woven iron wrapped cruelly around his precious wings, contorting the limbs into horrible angles.

Nami had given him a knife, Sanji suddenly recalled, the small handle encrusted with jewels that blazed in the sunlight. It was a priceless relic, likely several generations old. She’d only sniffed haughtily when he tried to give it back.

Usopp had whispered in a stricken tone that she’d never given away something from her treasure hoard before.

Now, it cut through the iron-coated fibers like butter. It wasn’t so dissimilar to slicing the rope off a trussed-up chicken for serving, Sanji thought bleakly, especially given the smell of roasted flesh.

“Hurry the fuck up,” Zoro growled, ashen-faced. “They’re coming.”

He took extra care to not nick the delicate membranes of Zoro’s wings. Chopper could heal the mangled appendages. Hopefully. Maybe, he could magic his food to heal specific areas. That would be useful for a migraine, Sanji thought, or a broken bone.

The escapism of cooking only lasted for a minute until Sanji rolled Zoro’s stocky frame off the remaining mesh.

Sanji wasn’t a healer, but Zoro looked bad. Despite the blood and burnt flesh, quiet grunts were the only indication of his suffering.

Iron sucked all warmth and power out of the Fae, Ace had explained once. It was a cold, fierce kind of burn that incinerated all traces of magic and left the user weak and ill. Even the strongest of Fae weren’t immune to its debilitating effects.

He tapped the side of Zoro’s cheek incessantly. “You with me?”

There was a groan. “Shuddup.”

He could hear loud voices approaching, accompanied by the warning calls of the forest. They didn’t have much time; soldiers would swarm to a downed Fae. Sanji was a decent fighter, but even he couldn’t fight off hordes of soldiers and defend an injured faerie at the same time.

Hell, he couldn’t even face off against two men while keeping a small rat safe.

Sanji tried hefting Zoro’s limp form onto his back, several hundred pounds of muscle bogging down his slender frame into a bow-legged trudge. “C’mon, we need to go.”

Zoro let out a wounded sound when shifted, and Sanji stuffed the guilty feeling it brought down deep into his chest.

“Get up, dammit!”

“Gimme… a minute,” Zoro murmured, cheek unnaturally cool in the junction of Sanji’s neck. “Just go. I can… I can take ‘em.”

He absolutely could not take them.

Their enemies were fast approaching. Zoro was a sitting duck. He was the dead prince of Germa, and exceedingly stupid.

Sanji scrambled out from under his companion’s body, trying to let him down as gently as possible to the forest floor and wincing at the agonized hiss the other let out.

Zoro’s eye rolled. “Get… get going already. Shit-Cook.”

He was going, but not to run away.

It was a decent gamble. If the soldiers came upon Zoro, he’d be dead on sight. The dead prince of Germa might be afforded a little more time. The dungeons would be like an old friend by now, if Judge didn’t just kill him outright upon arrival.

Reaching in his pocket, he gave Chuji once last gentle pat before setting the little creature on Zoro’s heaving chest. Luffy would keep taking care of him, he knew.

“Keep him safe for me, would you?” Sanji asked, and took a step back. Wounded or not, Zoro would still try and stop him. “Tell Luffy I’m sorry. That I was happy. Make sure he eats a vegetable for once in his damn life. Got it?”

Sanji slipped off the carved mask, dropping it at his feet and exposing his tearstained cheeks to the warm air.

He danced out of reach of Zoro’s lunge, noting the way the other kept Chuji carefully pressed against his chest. He would’ve preferred to save one of the beautiful ladies, maybe, but Zoro…

Zoro was worth going back to hell for, he supposed.

Resolutely ignoring the roared protests behind him, Sanji walked straight towards the soldiers. One of them held some kind of launching contraption over his shoulders; he must’ve been the one responsible for bringing down Zoro. He held his chin up, pushed back golden tresses with his hand, and showed them his brow.

A far more tempting prize, the dead prince of Germa.

Then, Sanji ran.

He was a damn good sprinter, long legs practically built for speed. Usopp’s shoes cradled his aching feet, ensured no stone underfoot dug into his sole. Even the forest tried to aid in his flee, jutting roots and thorny limbs reaching up to tug and trip his pursuers.

There were several opportunities for him to make a total escape. He could have darted up and into the trees, perhaps, or even just hidden behind a wide trunk and hope not to be seen. But the thought of them backtracking, of coming upon Zoro’s incapacitated form and Chuji…

Sanji made sure to stay just within view, dancing and weaving amongst the trees. Arrows hit the bark with a heavy thunk, whistling past his legs and hips. It seemed they were going for non-lethal, at least. He wasn’t sure whether that detail made him feel better or worse.

Distantly, he heard the sound of wild, uncontrollable laughter. It seemed Luffy was awake.

Luffy was also too far away to save him.

He could feel his heart in his throat, the ragged gasps that blew past his lips as his arms pumped at his sides. Just a little longer. A little farther, away from his friends, and he’d be able to stop and stand his ground. At the least, he’d go down fighting instead of running like a coward.

There was a bright bloom of pain in his leg and Sanji tumbled. Rocks and twigs grazed sharply against his face as he slid to a stop, momentum and shock leaving him a curled heap on the ground.

Get up!

Sanji dragged himself up onto one foot, took a step forward-

Pain.

He crumpled with an aborted scream, looking down at his left leg. Bile shot up his throat at the sight of the crossbolt lodged firmly into the meat of his calf, barbed tip embedded in his flesh. It burned, eating through his skin and crawling into his blood. Tipped with acid or poison, he wasn’t sure. It didn’t matter, in the end.

Run. He had to run. They were coming.

Sanji reached out a trembling hand, gripped the wooden shaft, and ripped. Everything flickered in and out of focus, a sickening agony ripping through the limb with a spray of blood.

Stay awake. Chopper was going to kill him, if he ever saw the little guy again. Zoro would definitely kill him. He needed to stay awake.

Blood coated his fingers, tacky and metallic. Black spots danced in his vision. He needed to run. Luffy didn’t deserve to mourn him again. He couldn’t leave them, there were so many things he wanted to cook, two brothers he needed to see, he still hadn’t seen the ocean-

Sanji hand landed limply on a patch of moonflowers, smearing crimson over their delicate petals. He lacked the energy to fight the ropes that wound around his wrists, the hood forced over his head to blind him. There was only darkness.

Chapter Text

Even when being actively kidnapped and possibly bleeding out, Sanji prided himself on his ability to be a nuisance. When the situation called for it, of course.

He’d used just about every curse that had ever come out of Zeff’s mouth until they briefly lifted his hood to gag him. After that, he started bucking his body off the shoulders of his captors, stubbornly ignorant of the pain that lanced through his leg at the sudden impact against the ground.

His head still ached from when he’d slammed it back against a soldier’s chin. Based on the man’s shriek, he might’ve succeeded in knocking a few teeth out.

“Damn brat’s gotta be a mimic or some shit, don’t remember the princeling being this obstinate-”

Sanji cut off the Germish soldier’s tirade with a savage kick of his bound legs, biting his tongue to hold back a pained groan.

“Dammit, we’re getting our asses kicked by their king, he was supposed to be dead. Now we can’t even handle one gods-damned boy-”

For good measure, Sanji made sure to roll when hands reached for him again, smirking at their enraged yells. Impertinence was easier to handle than blind fear at the blackness the sack around his head afforded him.

He’d grown too used to Luffy’s sunlight.

“You guys got a slippery one, huh?” A new voice called out, honeyed with a slight twang. “Forest spirits tend to do that. The trees are not happy, I’ll tell ya. I’d watch your step next time you need to piss behind one.”

Sanji’s body went inexplicably limp against his will, his sudden drop of defenses giving his captor ample opportunity to snatch him into a headlock that cut off all air to his lungs.

“Don’t come any closer-”

“C’mon now, there’s no need for that,” There was the sound of boots hitting the earth, as though jumping from a high height. “How ‘bout you just let him go, huh? Can’t promise you’ll get out of here alive, but you’ll have a better chance. I’d even give you a head start.”

When the twang of launched arrows reached his ears, Sanji fully expected an answering grunt of pain, the toppling of a body to the ground. Instead, there was only a blast of warm air.

“Alright, then. Suit yourselves.”

The breeze turned suddenly stifling. The arm around his neck went slack, and the horrible, nauseating scent of roasted meat assaulted his senses alongside piercing screams.

Sanji didn’t try to stifle the choked cry that tore from his throat when he hit the ground yet again, sticky with his own blood. He half-expected himself to start burning too as he desperately sucked in smoky air that made him cough, but the heat only tickled at his skin.

Footsteps, coming closer.

“Let’s get you outta here,” he heard the voice at his ear. “Smoke’s not good for your kind.”

A hand brushed against his neck. Sanji flinched, feet shooting out from his scrunched-up body with a solid force that sent his assailant flying with a grunt.

He also had to bite back a whimper at the agony rushing through his injured leg, but that was beside the point. His eyes rolled at the continued lack of fresh oxygen.

“Hey, hey,” the man tried soothingly as Sanji coiled up dangerously in warning. “I’m not gonna hurt you; I’m here to help.”

Sanji snarled when bare arms suddenly scooped him up, spitting muffled curses that would make even Zeff’s ears curl.

It was easier to breathe outside of the cloud of smoke. He stilled, greedily gasping in air while he was set down gently, back propped against a log.

“There,” the stranger said. “I won’t touch you again unless you let me, but I’d really like to remove your bindings and get your leg wrapped. Looks gnarly.”

He was clearly Fae, Sanji thought, but that didn’t mean he was safe. Even if he was on Luffy’s side, if he saw Sanji’s brow before removing the gag…

Well, he wasn’t in much of a hurry to repeat the whole unintentional execution incident.

When Sanji didn’t answer, the Fae only hummed. “Didn’t know my little brother recruited another forest spirit. Can tell by your fancy outfit. Bet you have a story to tell; Luffy’s friends always do.”

Sanji’s blood froze. Brother, Luffy, fire. Ace.

This time, Sanji launched himself against the other with his body instead of his feet, trembling and aching when Ace’s arms automatically wrapped around his bound torso to steady him. He was so warm, and safe-

“Whoa, hey,” Ace murmured, rich voice suddenly recognizable, deeper in timbre than when Sanji last saw him. His hands ran up and down Sanji’s arms soothingly. “Just hold on. I think you might be going into shock; you’re pretty banged up.”

There was a snap of his fingers, and Sanji didn’t squirm as flames licked at his bindings, the sack over his head, the gag digging into his lips. He only curled his face into the crook of Ace’s freckled neck. Selfishly, he was afraid that it wasn’t him, that this was just a cruel trick and he’d gaze upon the man’s face only to meet a stranger.

“You’re a mask-wearer, huh?” he said, not unkindly. “That’s alright; we’ll find something you can use. Just let me wrap your leg so you don’t bleed to death, alright? You can call me Ace; Luffy’s my kid brother.”

“Ace,” Sanji croaked against sweaty skin. “Ace.”

A wide palm ruffled at Sanji’s hair, and he shuddered. There was the sound of ripping fabric; he bit his tongue when something wound tightly around his calf. The blood loss was definitely getting to him; he couldn’t seem to stop shaking.

At least, that’s what he told himself.

“There,” Ace said lightly with a final tug. “I’m not as good at this as our other brother, but it’ll hold until we can get you to a real healer.”

Sabo had always been the one to patch him up. His hands, lighter and softer than his brothers, were suited to delicate work like that. Sanji whispered Sabo’s name, arms limp at his side as he soaked up Ace’s constant heat.

“Hey, how’d you know? Luffy talk about us a lot?”

Sanji had always been a quiet crier, he thought. Even when Zeff gruffly told him to let it all out, or Luffy’s brothers held him so carefully, he remained silent. It was a trick he’d learned early on during his time in the castle; loud cries only brought bad attention.

Now, Sanji had to actively bite back whimpers that threatened to roll over his tongue, vainly attempting to stifle the disgustingly pitiful sounds with hitched breaths that made his shoulders jump.

He was so tired. The dungeons, his own death, Luffy, Chuji, it was too much for one person to handle. Zeff, Ace, Sabo, men impaled on trees and aching loneliness and he’d almost had to go back to it all-

“Hey, hey,” Luffy’s brother said so softly, kind to even a complete stranger. “You’re alright now. It’s over; we came in with Shanks’ men. We’re a ways from the battle; you’re lucky that the trees were so insistent I follow your tracks.”

A rough sob escaped from his chest, ugly and pathetic. Slowly, so slowly, Sanji drew back from the safety of the Fae’s shoulder, blinking with the sudden influx of light.

And there he was. The same warm freckles over tanned skin, hooked nose and dark hair. His expression shifted from confusion to shock, then shuttered entirely into something cold and unrecognizable.

Ace firmly pushed him away, and Sanji swallowed a keen.

“Take it off,” he said in a low voice. “I don’t know what kind of game you’re playing, wearing his face, but take it off now.”

A hysterical chuckle bubbled up Sanji’s throat, boiling over his lips and tongue. It was fine. This was fine. Ace thought he was a forest spirit. Forest spirits wore many faces. It was a misunderstanding. He was so cold, but that was fine. He just needed to tell him, and it would be fine, and he could be warm again.

The giggle turned into peals of mirthless laughter that he couldn’t seem to stop. He was convulsing, cackling like a madman. It was no wonder that Ace didn’t recognize him, with another man’s blood on his lips and tears on his face. He hadn’t recognized himself in years.

Sanji’s hands snaked up to his hair, pulling hard at blonde strands that pulled from his scalp in a familiar tang of grounding pain. He needed to pull it together. Weakness was failure. Failure was dangerous.

“Ace,” he warbled in between bouts of wild giggles instead, incapable of anything more eloquent. “Ace-”

“Look, kid,” Ace said firmly. His voice was laced with anger and tempered patience, the same tone he took when Luffy pulled something exceedingly stupid. “I’m not just gonna leave you here. But you need to drop the act.”

Yellow clumps of hair fell apart in freezing fingers. Everything was swimming. He needed to focus. There was something he was supposed to say. The pain wasn’t helping anymore. He pulled harder.

He couldn’t stop laughing, belly aching with each guffaw. What was so funny?

Burning hands wrapped carefully around his wrists. “Hey, stop, you’re hurting yourself-”

Ace froze, brow furrowing. His thumbs dug deeper into his pulse points. Sanji could feel his heartbeat jump at the pressure, too-fast with panic, adrenaline, and a touch of hysteria.

“Ace-”

“You’re human,” he said, and there was a flash of fear that crossed his normally unflappable expression. “That, that doesn’t make sense, if you’re human…”

He took Sanji’s face in his hands, smoothing at his brow, digging at the pulse in the fleshy part of his neck. “Who are you?”

It took several tries to get the words to come, dry and stuck in his throat.

Sanji wheezed between hiccups, then uttered his own name. “Ace, please-”

A warm grip enveloped him completely, crushing him, and he only wanted to be held tighter. He could feel the little flames that flickered over his skin, meant to warm his body, but all Sanji cared about was the way Ace’s chest slowly rose and fell with breath.

“Please, please be real.” Ace whispered in his ear, and Sanji fell apart.

Later, he’d blame it on the shock, the blood loss, the insane series of events that had led to that moment and began with his own death. The howling sobs he made were animalistic, pitiful and noisy and messy with snot and tears.

His fingers dug into the other’s back, hard enough to bruise. Ace held him like he could slip away and float into the clouds at any moment. His head felt light enough to do so, if he was honest. His hair was wet where Ace propped his chin; it wasn’t raining.

Ace’s arm lifted for only a second, just enough time to launch a ball of blue flame high into the sky. When his hand came down, it stroked soothingly against Sanji’s tender scalp like an apology. His chest rumbled with soothing purrs, the effect as soporific as it had been almost a decade ago.

Sanji’s cries eventually petered off into quiet hiccups, exhausted body held up entirely in Ace’s embrace. His eyes were sore. He probably looked like a mess.

Ace looked at his face like he was something precious, tears on his cheeks. “There you are.”

“I’m sorry,” Sanji said hoarsely, Fae rules be damned. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to leave. I wanted- I wanted to go home, and I tried, I tried to escape, but I was too damn weak, and I-”

Ace hushed him gently “Explanations can wait for later. I’m going to kick his ass for it, but I’m assuming Luffy knows?”

Sanji nodded. Luffy said he sent a message to his brothers, but…

There was a crash in the undergrowth, but it came with no warning chitters of the forest birds, and Ace’s grip barely tightened.

“I saw your signal,” Sabo stumbled past the trees, fire held alight in his palms. That was new. “What is it? What’s-”

He stilled, pale face growing abruptly whiter around the puckered red skin of old burn scars.

Sanji wondered how he must look, propped against Ace’s chest, bloody leg outstretched. Likely not a pretty sight. He felt scraped raw, more puddle than human.

Sabo had grown well, he thought dazedly as the other approached. Just as strong and stocky as Ace. He seemed more Fae than he did almost a decade ago, face holding an unfamiliar otherness with his ears softly pointed.

He kneeled abruptly next to Sanji’s fallen form, expression drawn into intense focus. Sabo’s hands came to rest over his shin, gently unwinding the bandages.

“You tied it too tight,” Sabo said with a professional briskness. Sanji shuddered against the touch, even as it probed carefully over mangled flesh. “We need to staunch the bleeding, not make a tourniquet.”

Ace laughed wetly. “Sabo-”

“How much blood has he lost?” He continued, pressing the back of his hand to Sanji’s forehead, then feeling at his pulse. Sanji’s chin followed after the brief touch as though to chase it. “Are there any other injuries? Is he poisoned?”

“You think I’d just be sitting here if he was?” Ace’s hand continued to stroke at his hair, and Sanji’s eyelids lowered to half-mast.

Calloused fingers swiped at the dried blood on his chin. “Is this his?” Sabo demanded frantically, prodding deftly at Sanji’s abdomen. “Did he cough up blood? Do we need to worry about internal bleeding?”

Sanji couldn’t avoid crying out when careful hands pushed at his belly, liver likely bruised by Reiju’s solid hit. It was a quiet sound, but he might as well have launched a cannon given the way the brothers jolted.

“Shit,” Sabo hissed. “Ace, hurry and find us a healer. I’ll do what I can in the meantime, but if he’s bleeding from the inside, we don’t have much time.”

Ace was pulling away, and no, nonono-

“Not my blood,” Sanji managed to rasp, clenching his injured fingers around Ace’s wrist in a vain attempt to keep him from leaving. “I bit a guy.”

He heard twin sighs of relief as though the action of chomping through another man’s skin was perfectly normal. Sabo continued fluttering about, ripping the hem off his own tunic to wrap around the cut on his bicep, dipping another scrap of fabric in a canteen and running it over Sanji’s chin and mouth.

“Sabo.” Sanji whispered reverently, and the other finally stilled, still smoothing over makeshift bandages.

“You’re dead.” He said, voice thick with grief. He wouldn’t meet Sanji’s eyes.

Sanji managed a weak grin. Water dripped off his chin. “I’ve been getting that a lot, lately.”

Instead of sliding into one of his carefree smiles, Sabo only looked more stricken.

“We left you behind,” he whispered in horror. “You were… we left you behind. This whole time, you’ve been…”

Ace’s arms tightened.

Sanji blamed plenty of things during his captivity. His father’s cruelty, his brothers’ stone hearts, his own weakness, even Reiju’s inability to fight for him (and only on the darkest and coldest of nights, that one). The thought of holding Luffy and his brothers in contempt never even crossed his mind.

He said firmly, “It wasn’t your fault. They tricked you. It was never your fault.”

Sabo’s hands came back up to hold Sanji’s face, and his eyelids fluttered.

“You really haven’t changed at all, Cook,” Sabo said softly, thumbs swiping at his cheeks. “Thank you, for finding us. For surviving.”

That was a lie, Sanji thought. He was vengeful, broken, and perpetually drifting at the edge of his own sanity. He was sad, and angry, and tired. Cook had been good. He’d still held out hope that his brothers would change, had been strong enough to staunchly refuse Zeff’s demands to stay with him at the Baratie rather than return to the castle, determined to keep the old man safe.

It was Cook that Luffy collected endless trinkets for, Cook that Ace and Sabo had dedicated countless years to chasing the ghost of. It was Cook who really had died the day Judge threw him in the dungeons, and it was only a matter of time before they realized Sanji was all that remained.

Cook was kind. But Sanji was selfish, and would take everything he was offered until it ran dry. And when Sabo held open his arms in a silent invitation, he latched on tight like a barnacle to the hull of a sailing ship.

Chapter Text

While Ace had held him like he was afraid Sanji would slip away, Sabo did so as though afraid he would shatter.

“Deep breaths, Cook,” Sabo murmured, like he was still the same snot-nosed little kid that tended to hyperventilate himself into unconsciousness. Maybe he still was; he hadn’t even been aware of his own ragged pants. “There you go.”

He used to be able to count Sabo’s heartbeats; there was only stillness under his ear. That was a question for later. Later, when he was sure this wasn’t a coma-induced dream, and that he wasn’t actually on his way back to his father’s castle.

“We should still get him back to a healer,” he hazily heard Sabo say overhead. “He’s too pale. And I wanna check on Luffy; I heard soldiers say they thought he was dead?”

There was an answering snort. “Firebug’s always pale.”

It was a silly nickname, a dig at the way Sanji’s hair seemed to glow in the firelight of their campfires. Better than Luffy’s “crybaby”, but still juvenile. A bit demeaning. He thought he’d die before ever hearing it again.

“Luffy’s fine,” Sanji managed tiredly. “I fixed it.”

“Fixed it?”

He sighed. “Luffy made my food magic. Or something.”

“Or something?”

“I’m gonna kick his ass.” Ace said dryly, then turned around with his knees on the ground. “Hop on, Cook.”

Sabo’s hands fluttered about his body, practically taking on all his body weight during the transfer. “Careful with his leg, don’t knock it about!”

They were a pair of mother hens. And to think, their baby brother was a monarch who apparently toppled other kingdoms with a smile on his face.

The steady sway of Ace’s shoulders under him formed a soothing rhythm. It was familiar, too; Ace had always insisted on carrying Sanji on his back after on their longer treks when the other started falling asleep.

Sanji hummed, resting his chin on Ace’s shoulder. Sabo’s hand rested between his shoulder blades, as though concerned he might fall.

“You can rest, Cook,” he said softly, rubbing it up and down over the bumps of Sanji’s spine. It burned against his skin, even though he knew it wasn’t all that hot. “Nothing will take you while you sleep.”

His head lolled. It seemed what little energy remained had leaked out with his tears, only the barest dregs of wakefulness remaining.

War was loud, even without the thundering of horses. It was clear that Ace and Sabo were skirting the long way around, doggedly avoiding any signs of conflict. Dying screams and triumphant cries still echoed for miles. The call of Luffy’s laughter was barely a comfort.

“Can’t,” Sanji murmured, wincing at the sting of his hands, the cold ache of his leg, the throbbing pain in his stomach. “They might need help. I gotta get going, get food ready…”

The two brothers exchanged sour glances.

Ace shrugged, then bent down. “Well, if you feel that way, I’ll just let you take a step on that leg of yours, see how well you can walk-”

“Okay-”

“Don’t you dare!” Sabo smacked Ace on the arm, then turned a kind smile Sanji’s way. “Don’t worry, Cook. Shanks and his men are more than enough firepower with this crowd. If we had any concerns, I’d be headed there right now. Luffy and his friends are fine.”

Sanji suddenly startled, only Ace’s scramble for his legs keeping him from sliding right off. “Zoro! Zoro got hit, he’s alone, with Chuji, he’s hurt, far more than me!”

“Somehow I doubt that.” Ace muttered. For good measure, he shifted his body to childishly wipe his bloodied hands over Sanji’s leggings.

“Ugh-”

The trees rustled, high and sweet. Faint giggles floated on the breeze that tickled at Sanji’s nose. It settled around his shoulders possessively, smelling of pine.

Glad, They whispered. Relief, safe, home.

Sanji looked up at the dappled light streaming between the leaves. “You’re sure?”

Safe, ours. All safe, mine.

Ace and Sabo exchanged yet another Look, and the former shrugged. “Yeah, in hindsight, we probably could have predicted the forest would try to steal him. Wait until he meets the ocean.”

“What-”

“I did see an iron net and a concerning amount of blood on my way here,” Sabo admitted, shaking his head. “But it was empty. If Luffy’s wing was in trouble, we’d know.”

Sanji blinked, the previous question on his tongue already fading. “Wing?”

“Like a…” Sabo paused. “Right-hand man, I guess. But with the Fae, it’s a sworn oath, more than a promise. A king or queen can only choose two wings in their lifetime. Luffy and Zoro’s bond is unbreakable; they’d know if the other was in peril.”

Was that why Luffy had woken up?

“Anyways, there’s nothing for you to worry about, so just relax-”

The voice that boomed his Fae-given title and shook the earth was distorted, animalistic. His hairs stood on end, blood freezing to ice.

“COOK!”

There was the steady thud of hooves, and the putrid scent of old blood and wet fur combined that wafted through the trees made Sanji’s nose curl. It was something of ancient blood, enraged.

Sabo only let out a pleased little hum. Ace slid an arm out from under Sanji’s knee to pick idly at his ear. The forest giggled.

“I’m confused.” He said out loud. “Should we be… concerned?”

“Concerned?” Sabo gave him a worried glance, then reached out to feel at his forehead, moving his finger for Sanji’s eyes to track. “Why do you think we should be concerned?”

“COOK!!”

So, he was hallucinating. That was fine. Or this was one of Shanks’ men, maybe? But if so, how did he know Sanji’s name? It was possible that one of Luffy’s friends sent them…

“I just mean,” Sanji gestured aimlessly towards the incoming stench of death. “Do you… know them?”

He hoped they heard it too, at least. Maybe he did need a nap

“Know them?” Sabo’s face suddenly softened, tone turning slow and gentle. “The shock’s probably hitting hard, huh? I’m sure you’ve met Chopper. He’s a healer; he’ll help you feel better.”

“Of course I’ve met Chopper.” He wasn’t about to deny the shock part, much as he wanted to; it was frankly a miracle (and likely a testament to Ace’s dexterity) that he hadn’t slipped to the ground with how much his body was shivering. “He’s… a little guy. Squeaky voice, fuzzy pink hat? Relatively harmless?”

The stench of rot grew closer. It reminded Sanji a bit of a compost bin, bringing to mind promises of new shoots and healthy roots after death. That wasn’t comforting.

“Oh, Chopper can transform.” Ace said like it was obvious, flicking a bit of earwax Sabo’s way and earning himself an offended squawk. “Try not to stare, if you haven’t seen it before. He’s a sensitive kid.”

The hulking figure that emerged from the trees was anything but little. It was easily taller than three or even four normal humans, covered in shaggy fur. Bits of clothing and what Sanji strongly suspected to be flesh hung from the sharpest points of its antlers.

Its eyes were easily the most disconcerting part of the monstrous creature, bright and beady with an unearthly glow as they settled on Sanji himself. It suddenly smiled, blunted teeth horrifyingly massive.

“I FOUND YOU!”

Oh, gods, it even did the same joyful wiggle.

Sanji wasn’t going to faint. Sure, he was feeling exceptionally dizzy and lightheaded, and he saw stars from where his head had gone limp into the crook of Ace’s neck, but he was still conscious.

If he did faint, he was going to blame it on the blood loss.

So focused on taking slow, deep breaths in and out with his flickering vision, he barely noticed Ace and Sabo quickly laying his body out on the ground, the former propping his legs up in his lap.

“I’m good,” Sanji wheezed, blinking away black spots. “Not passing out.”

Sabo hummed indulgently, shirking off his own midnight-hued cloak to cushion Sanji’s head. It was gloriously velvety and soft. “If you say so.”

“He passed out?!” Screeched Chopper’s squeaky voice. Sanji never thought he’d be so relieved to hear it. “Did his heart give out again?!”

Ace and Sabo’s faces went bone-white.

“What does he mean by again?” Ace cut in frantically, jostling Sanji’s uninjured leg. “Cook, what does he mean by again?”

Sanji said breezily, “Don’t worry about it.”

“What do you mean-”

“Don’t upset my patient!” Chopper interrupted sternly, short little body clopping up to Sanji’s side. “Is that blood?”

“You were big,” Sanji said dumbly. He was glad Zoro wasn’t here to make fun of him. “Really big.”

Chopper’s big, doe-like eyes took up his vision, little blue nose twitching in distress. “I didn’t scare you, did I? I don’t like being scary.”

He was fucking terrifying.

“Not at all,” Sanji lied through his teeth, reaching up a leaden arm to ruffle Chopper’s fur. “I was just surprised, since you looked different.”

At least Chopper was gullible. Based on Ace’s snicker, it wasn’t too believable.

“That doesn’t make me happy, you bastard!” The forest spirit said cheerfully, unwrapping Sanji’s leg. “Oh, wow, did you get shot?”

Sanji batted Sabo’s fingers away from his pulse. “I’m fine, quit it. Yes, I did get shot. Have you seen Zoro? Dumbass got himself caught.”

“Oh, Zoro’s okay!” Chopper said cheerfully, entirely unsympathetic to the pained hisses of his patient. “Usopp and Nami brought him to the ship. He said to tell you that your mouse friend is fine, and that… actually, I don’t really want to repeat the rest of the message. He expressed his concern for you in his very own special way!”

“He threatened to kill me, didn’t he?”

Ace’s brow shot to his hairline. “He did what-”

“Yup! Ew, looks like you ripped the arrow out,” Chopper fussed, and Sanji let out a strangled groan as hooves poked around torn-up flesh. “That’s bad, Cook, don’t you know you’re supposed to keep it in? If it’d nicked an artery, you’d have bled out by now.”

Sanji grit his teeth. “Not much else I could do. It was burning. Acid, I think. Germa’s fond of that.”

Sabo reached out to take one of Sanji’s hands in his own, giving it a warm squeeze that tightened something in his chest.

“You,” he said seriously, lips thin. “Are going to have your leg healed up. You’re going to rest. And then you’re going to explain exactly what Chopper meant by your heart stopping again. Do you understand?”

He rolled his eyes without any ire. “It was a misunderstanding. Chopper fixed me up.”

Said reindeer let out a joyful squeal that he vainly tried to stifle, clearing his throat and putting on a professional frown that didn’t look right on his round little face. “Ahem, Sanji, my patient. I gotta use your energy this time instead of mine since I’m healing everyone today, but it shouldn’t hurt, okay?”

He waited until Sanji nodded his head to light his hooves up in a soft, soothing pink over his leg. Sanji hadn’t been awake enough to see what the forest spirit had done to him last time. Now, he could feel the tingle that started at his flesh and pooled deep within.

His magic smelled like peppermint, Sanji mused.

Robin had told him to imagine his own as a kind of liquid, flowing from inside and taking shape at the hands of its user. He hadn’t understood exactly what she meant, before. Now, he felt the buzz of mana flowing through his blood and winding fluidly around mangled muscles. It was cold, but not unpleasantly so.

There was a gentle tug at his core, light enough to easily sever if he wished. The malleable threads between them tasted candy-sweet on his tongue. It asked, but didn’t demand.

Sanji gave.

It wasn’t magic that Chopper pulled from him, plucking up and knitting into his very flesh and blood with impossibly dexterous little hooves. The pull of energy seeped away from his body as though he was in a dead sprint, panting with exertion. It itched as it wove into healing skin, pulling and stitching with an ice-cold needle that numbed as it pierced.

Chopper’s magic felt alien as it moved up to his belly, diving down deep below bone and muscles to the viscera below. His skin felt too tight, the magic cold and pulsing with every wave of blood that circulated through his body.

Without needing to ask, Chopper’s light moved up to his hands, healing shallow cuts and bruised knuckles. While saving Luffy had left something in him gaping, starving, this only made him feel tired. Full, but sleepy.

Sabo’s cloak was so soft.

“There!” Chopper chirped, and Sanji glanced down to see only a round scar where his skin had been pierced, still slick with blood. “I can’t heal everything without draining him to a dangerous level, he’ll have some bruising and tenderness. Also, not much I can do about the blood loss, he just needs food, water, and rest for that!”

Ace’s palm clamped over Sanji’s lips before he could finish his slurred “thanks”. In a fit of impulsive childishness that seemed to always slip out of his control around Luffy and his brothers, Sanji licked it.

“Eugh, gross.” Ace whined, wiping his hand on Sanji’s cheek.

A laugh bubbled up Sanji’s throat, real and genuine and thankfully not hysterical. He did feel like a child when Ace hefted him back onto his back, despite his healed limb. Sabo’s cloak was draped around his shoulders.

“You’ll stay, won’t you?” The words slipped from Sanji’s tongue. It was vulnerable, selfish. He tacked on like an afterthought meant to spare his dignity, “You can’t leave before eating, I mean. I’m making spicy ramen, enough to make Luffy full.”

At least, he hoped it was still their favorite. He’d prepped for meat and vegetable skewers that night, but if he sliced the marinated meat thinly, it’d be perfect for soup. They still had the bones from whatever strange beast Zoro had dragged in the other day for a rich, hearty broth. He’d have to ask Usopp to identify the spiciest ingredients they had on hand; he seemed to have an arsenal of dried peppers.

So caught up in planning the perfect combination of flavors, he didn’t realize that Ace had stopped until Sabo took his face in his hands, forcing Sanji to stare directly into his eyes. He looked… sad.

“Cook,” Sabo murmured, brushing Sanji’s bangs back and softening at whatever he found. “Sanji. We’ve spent some time looking for your ghost and have missed you for every minute of it. Finding you dead would have been a relief. But finding you alive?”

The flames that burst from his palms and licked at Sanji’s skin wrapped him in a blanket of blissful warmth. It felt as though he was in the Baratie’s kitchen, waiting eagerly in front of the oven to watch his apple turnovers brown just-so, golden and rich.

“You couldn’t make us leave if you tried, firebug.” Ace finished.

Do you promise? Sanji wanted to ask. He held his tongue and relished instead in the butterfly-light fingers that smoothed over heavy eyelids.

Luffy brought joy. A promise of freedom, of shattered helmets and sunny skies. But his brothers? His brothers made Sanji feel safe enough to lie his head on another’s shoulder and rest on an active battlefield.

Chapter Text

Luffy ate the last meat pie. Actually, he’d eaten all the meat pies Sanji had carefully packed away in his basket, still hot from the Baratie’s kitchen. He’d made them specifically to try to make Ace like him, selfish as it was.

Sabo had taken to him almost immediately as a fellow human entrenched with the Fae. He was friendly and open to anyone, it seemed, despite the fact that his own parents had accused him as a changeling child and sentenced him to death.

Ace, on the other hand, was far more suspicious. He seemed convinced that every night Sanji left, he’d return in the morning with armed guards to slaughter him and his brothers.

Sanji didn’t blame him. He wouldn’t trust himself, either.

Crumbs covered Luffy’s impish face, wide grin entirely unrepentant. Sanji could practically see the steam blowing from Ace’s ears, his cheeks red with fury.

“You dumbass!” He cried, chasing after a giggling Luffy. “Those were for all of us!”

When finally cornered against a tree, Luffy’s smile didn’t drop, entirely naïve and innocent to the hand raised above his head, ready to strike-

It was stupid to intervene. Ace was bigger than him, stronger than him, could literally hold fire in the palm of his hands. But it was better him than Luffy, Sanji thought, spreading his arms protectively in front of his friend with eyes scrunched tightly closed.

The blow never came.

When he opened them, Ace’s face was a blank mask of horror. His eyes were fixated on the handprint-shaped bruises on Sanji’s skin, revealed by the long sleeves riding up his arms.

After several long moments, during which Luffy bounded after a butterfly with a delighted crow, Ace kneeled to his height.

“How hard did you think I was going to hit Luffy?”

Sanji shook his head. Ace didn’t have the same cunning eyes as Ichiji, or Niji and Yonji’s smirk. But all brothers were the same. He was dumb to think otherwise; Reiju had told him that.

When Ace’s hand came down, Sanji flinched. It only ruffled at his hair, brushing out the twigs and leaves that had come from rolling down a hill with Luffy earlier.

“Yeah, I fight with Luffy,” Ace said seriously. “I might try to knock some sense into him. Sometimes he wins. But it’s fun. It’s supposed to be fun for both of us.”

He nodded at Sanji’s arms. “Was that fun, like when you played with Luffy and he tackled you down a hill?”

Sanji shook his head again. Ichiji’s fists hurt too much to be fun. Niji held him down.

“Do you think I’m going to hurt you? Or Luffy?”

He didn’t answer. That would be dangerous. But Ace was still waiting; he would grow impatient.

“That’s what brothers do.” Sanji said finally, deciding on a half-truth.

The hand on his head dragged down to his nape, and Sanji stiffened. He didn’t fight the gentle push, only stood stiffly when Ace’s arms wrapped around him. Something rumbled deep in his chest, under Sanji’s ear.

It felt… nice.

“That is not,” Ace murmured fiercely into Sanji’s hair. “What brothers do. And I’m gonna prove it to you, even if it takes forever.”

Forever didn’t last long enough. It never would.

Sanji was startled awake by an explosion, sputtering half-formed words of confusion.

The room was dark. He couldn’t see. He felt like one giant bruise, muscles overtaxed and belly aching.

For a moment, he feared the worst. That he’d dreamt up his whole rescue, Ace and Sabo weren’t really there, he was alone and worse than dying and headed back to the castle and he couldn’t breathe-

There was a flicker of low flame, revealing a familiar scarred face with round eyes that had him shuddering in relief.

“Sabo,” he gasped, clutching at a hand that readily reached back. “Sabo, where-”

The infirmary was suddenly suffused with a gentle light as fire licked its way up into lanterns on the ceiling. He was lying on a mattress of blankets and pillows, he realized, curled against Sabo’s side. He’d been cleaned, changed into new clothes without a film of blood and dirt on his skin. The wooden walls were familiar, safe; the dungeons were carved from stone.

“Before you start worrying, everyone is fine, Cook,” Sabo said softly, wrapping an arm around his shoulders. “Ace and Luffy are just being stupid. I told them not to wake you. I suspect that your friend Nami is… taking care of the disturbance.”

Sanji curled his knees to his chest, breathing out slowly. “What are… what are they bickering about this time?”

There was a dry snort, the sound of crinkling parchment. “See for yourself. This was the ‘message’ Luffy sent us.”

The drawing thrust in front of him was… crude, to say the least, mostly scribbles of charcoal and colorful pigments. It depicted a white-haired stick-figure in a straw hat, standing over a blonde counterpart coated in red, complete with a curled eyebrow and two X’s for eyes.

The drawing of Nika held a bloody heart in its hands with a wide smile. There was even a cheery yellow sun in the corner.

“Oh, gods,” Sanji whispered, horrified. “I forgot that Luffy can’t read. Or write.”

Sabo gave him a wane smile. “We’d assumed that the message meant that Judge was dead. A victory portrait, if you will. You can imagine our… displeasure when he explained that the picture is actually of him holding your still-beating heart. He was very excited to point that part out; Ace dragged him out of here shortly after.”

Sanji really did try to keep a straight face up until the point that he saw Sabo struggling to maintain composure, at which point he burst into snickers. “Gods, that’s awful. He really sent that?”

“You know as well as I do that only Luffy would be able to send that,” Sabo said with a playful nudge. “At least we don’t have to worry about someone intercepting our communication.”

There was a moment of silence, his head cushioned on Sabo’s shoulder. It was nostalgic to easier times. While Ace and Luffy would demand physical affection or simply take it for themselves, Sabo only ever offered.

Then, “You were in the dark, weren’t you?” Sabo asked softly, squeezing him tight when Sanji unconsciously pressed himself closer. “Where they held you. You used to love it.”

Just another thing to add to the list of differences between Cook and Sanji. He’d adored the stillness of the nighttime, the luxury of freedom that it provided him in the castle. Even his father and brothers required sleep, after all. After dark was the best time to sneak into his mother’s quarters without drawing his father’s ire.

On the nights where Judge was out on a hunting trip or meeting with foreign dignitaries, Sanji risked staying with Luffy and his brothers to camp out in the forest. Ace taught him how to make shadow puppets with his flames, and Sabo gave him the names of all the night birds that appeared in the branches.

“I’m not him.” Sanji blurted. They needed to know that, sooner or later. He wished he’d waited a little longer. “I’m not… your Cook, not anymore. The boy you remember is gone. I’m sorry.”

He expected Sabo to be taken aback. While he was too kind to outright push Sanji away, there would be a subtle shift of his body, a gentle warning to back off.

Sure enough, Sanji felt his head carefully lifted off Sabo’s shoulder, and bit back the pitiful sound of an injured creature that threatened to crawl up his chest and into his throat. It hurt, even if he knew it was coming. That was fine; he could still be useful to Luffy and his friends as well as Ace and Sabo. He would feed them, earn his keep. Love them selfishly, but from a distance.

Sanji stiffened when a finger gently flicked him in the nose, sparks flying from the digit.

“I see you still get lost in your head just as much as always, Cook,” Sabo said, and the nickname sounded taunting now. And why was he shirtless? “Take a look; I’m not the same either. Not even human, anymore.”

The craters of scar tissue jolted Sanji from his musings entirely. It started at his chest, a perfect circle straight through the middle and spreading through his torso like blotted red ink.

These weren’t the burns Sabo had gained during Ace’s frantic rescue while burning on his own pyre, Sanji thought bleakly. It looked like something had punched through his chest, straight through his heart and out the other side.

Nobody could survive that. Sanji hadn’t been able to feel his heartbeat. Luffy spoke of being able to cavort with spirits.

“No,” he whispered. “No, no no no, it wasn’t- it wasn’t supposed to be you, it wasn’t supposed to be… you were supposed to be fine, all of you-”

“Hey,” Sabo laughed lightly, taking Sanji’s face in his hands again. “I’m not dead, Cook. I mean, I definitely should be, but I’m not. Took a hit meant for Ace and Luffy. But our older brother is a dumb, foolish boy who decided he’d try to sacrifice his own magic supply to try and bring me back.”

“I had a one in a million chance of surviving it, apparently,” Sabo continued cheerily, as though he hadn’t casually described his own demise and apparent resurrection. “So that is absolutely not how we’re going to make sure we extend you to a Fae’s lifespan, but here I am. More magic than human, now.”

Sanji blinked once, twice. “What the fuck-”

“I’ll let him explain it further, but Ace… he comes from an ancient power. His birth father was a king of one of the lost courts. Ace’s magic grew to be something that would have even surpassed what Luffy is capable of. But by halving his magic… he’s still plenty powerful, of course, but he’s not at the level of a king. Not anymore.”

The undercurrent of guilt in his voice was familiar. Sanji didn’t like that.

“You’re worth more than power,” he said, pressing himself tight to Sabo’s side. He didn’t mention that the thought of him finally finding Luffy and Ace only to find the third brother already dead and gone was more than he could bear. “You would do the same for those two, and it’d be worth it.”

Sabo murmured, “You need to start including yourself in those thoughts too, you know. You’re just as much theirs as I am. Just as much mine as they are.”

Sanji had three brothers who despised his very existence. One sister who couldn’t stand to look at him.

“I’m not-”

“You are. And I am so damn glad that you’re alive for me to tell you that. Because you’re still Cook. You’re not the same boy you were almost a decade ago, and you, Sanji, are our brother. Neither of these things contradict the other.”

He was near Luffy and his brothers again. He was able to help. That should be enough for him.

It wasn’t.

“I want to,” he found himself saying. “I want to stay here. But I almost killed someone today, with my bare hands. The way Judge taught me. I came back… wrong.”

“Because he tried to kill Chuji, right?” Sabo shrugged. “I would’ve done worse. I’ve gotten pretty fond of that rat.”

“What?”

“Luffy’s friends told us that you almost killed yourself trying to heal an entire village of injured people,” He ticked off sourly. “You then went ballistic for the sake of an innocent rat, and then used yourself as live bait to save Luffy’s wing. So, at the least, you’re still just as idiotic as you’ve always been, and also just as kind.”

His eyes softened. “It’s still you, Cook. You’ve got some scars, but it’s still you.”

It should be physically impossible for him to still be able to produce tears after all the crying he’d done already, Sanji thought numbly. He should be all dry and shriveled up by now, like a raisin in a fruitcake before it was soaked in rum.

The thought of food had his stomach rumbling, despite it all. When was the last time he’d eaten?

Sabo let out a low chuckle, pulling back on his tunic before standing with a stretch, easily hauling Sanji up beside him. And sure, he’d never been weak per say, but Sanji didn’t remember him being able to fully support a man’s weight with one arm.

“C’mon, Cook,” Sabo said easily, steadying him when he swayed with a headrush. “Let’s get some food into you, then a hot bath.”

Soaking in the magicked water of the Sunny’s baths did sound blissful given how everything ached, but… “What time is it?”

“Does it matter?”

Sanji hummed. “Probably not to Luffy. But I need to know whether to prepare breakfast or dinner food. Or lunch. Is there a distinction among the Fae? Robin won’t give me a straight answer.”

Sabo’s sigh was fond. “There’s no way I can talk you into just taking it easy, huh?”

“I need to cook.”

He also wanted to check in on everyone. They passed a rumpled mess of blankets on a cot with the strange half-moon design he’d come to associate with the way Zoro slept with massive wings on his back; the mosshead must’ve already left.

With every step, he felt more steady. Food would take care of the rest. He still made no move to shrug away Sabo’s supportive arm.

Outside, he could hear Ace’s angry rant and Luffy’s little giggles and panicked squawks far more clearly, accompanied by the occasional whoosh of fire as orange as the setting sun.

“You’ve only been out a few hours,” Sabo admitted ruefully as Sanji blinked in the sunlight. “It’s normal to be knocked out for a few days after healing injuries like yours; Zoro is just a freak of nature in that regard.”

“Little guy’s awake, super!” Franky crowed, and Sanji’s vision was suddenly filled with a hulking mass of stone and flesh. Massive chunks were missing from the fairie’s body, as though somebody had taken a sledgehammer to him. They probably had.

A huge hand punched him in the back. It was likely meant to be a gentle pat, which was probably the only reason why Sabo just glared at Franky instead of trying to eviscerate the poor guy. Regardless, it fucking hurt. Sanji smiled through the pain.

Robin hummed from her perch on Franky’s shoulder, slender wooden arm extending to brush against Sanji’s face. The hem of her dark, silky dress was stiff with blood. “I am glad you were not taken or violently dismembered, little one.”

Sanji brushed his hand against hers, pained smile turning genuine. “I think I have your blessing to owe for that, Miss Robin. It sounds like they led Ace to me.”

Her eyes crinkled with mirth. “They would have done so regardless; you earned Their adoration on your own. Sabo, did Cook always blush in such a manner? I find the way his ears turn red to be quite entertaining.”

“It was worse when he was a kid,” Sabo snickered. “He looked like a tomato. When he got mad enough, he’d hold his breath until he turned purple.”

Aching desire for constant physical contact be damned, Sanji almost kicked Sabo overboard. Almost.

“Robin and Sabo worked together for a couple months on a solo mission to dismantle a Marine branch,” Franky whispered, likely much louder than intended. “They’re pretty good pals; she’s gonna dig up all the dirt on you, ‘lil bro.”

That wasn’t comforting.

“Alright,” Sanji said loudly, interrupting whatever Sabo was about to say (his grin was suspicious). “I’m gonna get started on food.”

Robin tilted her head to the side. “I would be delighted to join dinner preparations. I am nowhere near the same level of talent as our Cook, but I would be useful in the cooking of a meal for so many people.”

Sabo’s arm tightened. “Actually, I was thinking this would be a good time for Cook and I to catch each other up on what happened over the last seven years.”

It would be nice to finally learn how exactly a bone-headed boy like Luffy became king of a whole new court.

Her eyes softened. “As you wish. I will make sure you are not disturbed.”

There was a sleeping mound of moss parked right in front of the galley door when they approached, mouth agape with drool and hands cupped to his chest. His wings were unbound, membranes whole and unmarred. The knowledge that he’d still be able to fly settled something in Sanji’s gut.

The nudge of his shoe against Zoro’s side was gentler than he intended. “Oi, shithead. Get up, you’re in my way.”

A little nose slipped from between the Fae’s fingers, peeking out curiously with dark, beady eyes and wide, velvety ears.            

Sanji’s lips spread into a relieved grin, cupped hands outstretched for the little rat to easily clamber into his palms. There were fresh crumbs on his face; he’d been recently fed.

“Chuji!” He didn’t care if Zoro made fun of him for it, pressing his furry little head against his cheek. The rat’s whiskers scratched at his skin, drawing easy laughter. “Hey, that tickles!”

There was a strange choked sound at his side. To Sanji’s utter horror, Sabo’s eyes had gone wet, smiling lips trembling.

“Sabo…”

“I’m fine, Cook,” he said softly, reaching out to tickle at Chuji’s nose. “Just… didn’t think I’d get to see this again. He really makes you happy, huh?”

Somehow, in all his years of suffering in the dark, it never really occurred to him that he might be missed in return.

“Oi, Cook.”

Zoro’s eye was open, glaring balefully at the reunion. “Put the rat down.”

“Absolutely not!” Sanji barked, turning his body to shield the creature. “He might get cold, dickhead!”

He rolled his eye. “Put. The rat. Down. Or give it to Sabo. I don’t care.”

“How about you shut the fuck up-”

“I’m about to pummel your scrawny ass into the ground. Put the rat down.”

Oh. That was… actually quite considerate.

“I’ve gotta get started on dinner, but you can fight me later,” Sanji waved his hand dismissively, tucking Chuji into his front pocket. “Luffy’s gotta be hungry.”

“Or,” Sabo called out loudly. “Maybe we don’t fight at all, considering Zoro’s still fighting off silver poisoning and you just got shot in the leg.”

“I can take him.”

“What do you mean-”

“Ooh!” There was a schling, and rubbery arms were clinging around Sanji’s neck. “Cook’s gonna fight Zoro? I wanna see!”

“Luffy!” Sanji laughed, letting the changeling boy swing from his shoulders like a large monkey. “Glad to see you’re awake!”

There was an outpour of magic from the lithe body on his back, thundering through his blood and settling in his chest. With a giggle, Luffy nuzzled his nose into the crook of Sanji’s neck.

“Again, there is not going to be a fight-”

“I dunno, I kind of want to see it,” Ace chimed in helpfully. “Firebug sent me flying into a tree while bound and blindfolded, I think he’s got a chance.”

Zoro snorted. “Firebug? Seriously?”

This time, Sanji did kick Zoro overboard.

Chapter Text

Sanji had never cooked with Ace and Sabo beyond roasting squirrels and rabbits over an open fire. Both were surprisingly fairly decent, adequately slicing up meats and vegetables and making sure the broth didn’t boil over. They certainly weren’t sous chef material, but the help (and company) was appreciated, even if it did mean he had to set aside a pan of fried rice that would be untouched by Fae hands for his own consumption.

They’d collectively banned Luffy to the couch without much discussion; he seemed happy enough to stuff his face with a plate of fruits and honeyed flatbread. Chuji had wandered off a while ago, toting along snacks of berries and nuts.

“So, I want to make sure I heard this right,” Sanji asked in disbelief. He delighted in the feeling of cooking with his bare hands, gloves in his pockets. “Luffy is actually the son of a leader of a rebellion against the Marines, and Ace is the son of an ancient god-king and has actually been alive for hundreds of years, just locked in a magical stasis as a baby?”

Ace looked up from where he was torching sugar over pots of yellow custard with his finger. “To be fair, I was asleep for all of that. Also, a baby.”

“We’ve got to bring you to see Dadan and the other mountain trolls,” Sabo said wistfully. “She would adore you.”

Based on how they’d described the woman that took in the two changelings and a human upon their arrival to the Feywilds, Sanji wasn’t sure about that last part. Still, she was likely the sole reason why the three of them survived adolescence, so he’d do just about anything for her.

The rest of their story was… certainly less believable. Apparently, Luffy had been offered not one, not two, but three crowns after liberating both the Winter and Summer Courts from tyrannical rulers (and just being flat-out offered the Spring Court throne), happily turning them all down and loudly proclaiming he wanted to make his own court and explore the world with his friends. Slowly, he’d built up a full crew through sheer determination and an inability to take no for an answer.

Of note, they never mentioned the circumstances under which Sabo was almost killed, and Sanji wasn’t about to press for the details. All he got was a confirmation that the Marine responsible was already dead, and that was all he needed.

“Ace and I were busy with… other things during Luffy’s conquests,” Sabo continued delicately. “Though we dropped in for the bigger battles, Luffy’s done most of the work here himself. He’s heralded as a sort of savior in a lot of places, if you can believe it.”

Meanwhile, Luffy had his maw gaping open to try and fit over ten layers of flatbread in his mouth at once.

“You mean you were looking for my dead spirit,” Sanji cut in sourly, dropping chewy noodle dough into a pot of simmering water. “Instead of chasing after your own dreams.”

Hot fingers gripped Sanji’s chin, forcing him to face Ace’s dark, furrowed brow.

“I don’t know how you know about that,” he said slowly, palm coming up to cup his cheek. “But you will not make yourself feel guilty about it, understand? It was our choice, and we’d make the same decision every time.”

“You were the one that told me I’m worth more than power,” Sabo cut in lightly, leaning around Sanji’s shoulder to stir a pot of bone broth. “So, it stands to reason that you’re worth more than a little time.”

Sanji only rolled his eyes and ducked under Sabo’s elbow with ease, tossing thinly-sliced meats on a hot plate to sear and ignoring Luffy’s crow of delight (and sticky fingers reaching to grab a piece; maybe he’d gotten too soft). He could try and argue all he wanted, but Luffy and his brothers were bull-headed on a good day, even Sabo.

Intent, he suddenly remembered, flipping the rapidly-charring ingredients. There were injured allies, everyone recovering from the battle.  Heal them, he demanded. His food made no response, of course. It never did. According to Robin, he should be able to feel the magic leave his fingertips, a new sensation of flowing mana and power.

Cooking felt no different than it always had, but that wasn’t a bad thing. He tried to hide the sudden pang of dizziness when it hit; that was how he knew it was working. Even if he couldn’t control his output, he knew when to avoid pushing over his limits.

At least, he hoped he did. He hadn’t really gotten a chance to test said limits since his last cooking disaster.

In hindsight, Sanji probably should have known that Luffy’s brothers would be watching him closer than a hawk.

“Why are you leaking magic like that?”

Damn it.

“It’s really not a big deal-”

Ace’s scarred hands snatched his wrists from the pans, leaving Sabo to deftly sweep searing meat off the heat. He pushed his thumbs deep into Sanji’s palms, a light heat tickling at his skin.

“Ooh, is dinner ready?”

“Not now, Luffy,” Ace said curtly, brow furrowed. “Cook, can you stop it? Robin told us you were having trouble regulating your magic flow, but this… you’re practically bleeding.”

Sanji’s ears burned with the unspoken admission that he very much couldn’t stop, instead wrenching his hands from Ace’s grip to pull his gloves from his pocket.

“To be fair,” he said delicately, slipping them on and clenching his fingers at the sudden dullness of sensation. “We only found out this was a problem a few days ago, at most. And we were busy preparing to fight, so…”

He didn’t mention that it’d been maybe a week since he woke up in the Feywilds.

“Really?” Sabo said curiously, pulling out a spoon to take a sip of broth and frowning deeply. “You’re right, this is potent. Amazing, of course, but strong magic. It’s strange that Robin didn’t notice your magic flow and help train you before that, considering you’ve been here for… how many sun-cycles has it been?”

Damn it.

“That’s not important right now.” He said smoothly, then winced when the brothers swiftly turned to Luffy, who hummed contentedly and started counting his fingers (which were suspiciously greasy).

Sabo sighed. “I’m gonna go ask Robin-”

“Seven days,” Sanji blurted, suddenly driven to keep Sabo from leaving. “Maybe six.”

Ace fixed him with a dry look that Sanji studiously ignored, opting instead to start dishing up the meal components into larger serving vessels. Usopp had been delightfully helpful in supplying his own collection of hot peppers and pastes. He’d made a spicy sauce that Luffy’s brothers could add to their own portions without making the entire pot inedible for Nami and Chopper, who didn’t like spicy foods-

“Stop ignoring us, firebug.”

The massive tray of meats and vegetables had several fistfuls missing; how did Luffy move so fast? “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“You essentially died due to heart failure, overused your magic to a dangerous level, and got shot in the span of a week,” Sabo mused thoughtfully. “Not to mention the mental and emotional fatigue involved during… all this. You’re either not entirely human, or you’re running entirely on adrenaline and sheer stupidity.”

Sanji shrugged. Probably a bit of both, if he was being honest. Though he didn’t receive the same cursed hearts as his brothers, there was a non-zero possibility that he was still affected by the spell.

They already knew that, though. Everyone in Germa knew about the stone hearts of the Vinsmoke sons; Luffy and his brothers just didn’t know that Sanji himself was one of them until the end.

“… maybe you should go lie down?” Sabo suggested, arms slightly outstretched as though worried he’d collapse on the spot.

And miss the dinner rush? Zeff would kill him.

It was automatic to serve up three bowls and slide them over to his companions, carrying Luffy’s to the table himself. A bowl of the fried rice he’d prepared was pushed into his hands, still hot and topped with something that resembled green onions.

“Don’t worry,” Sabo said in response to his questioning look. “I checked with Robin; since I’m not technically Fae, you can eat anything I give you.”

It was slightly different from how Zeff would prepare it. He hadn’t found anything similar to ginger root amongst their supply, though there’d been a startling amount of rice identical to the stuff he cooked with in the human lands. Instead, he’d managed to find a similarly spicy root that tasted like a combination of ginger and basil, lending an extra layer of herbiness to the dish. It also turned the rice a vibrant hue of purple, but he took what he could get.

They made him sit with them, at least for a few minutes. There were a million things he still needed to prepare, dishes he needed to lay out, more broth to simmer and stew… He could have fought harder, honestly, but sitting sandwiched between Luffy and Ace was too familiar, bringing to mind easier times around a campfire.

Sanji watched eagerly as Ace and Sabo slurped their noodles (Luffy, predictably, was already almost done with his bowl). Delighted in the way their eyes lit up and they began to eat with real fervor; their words of praise flowed as readily as ever as Sanji tucked into his own meal.

Eating with them made his chest feel warm, felt the same as when he snuck into the Baratie in the early morning always to find a slice of warm bread with fresh butter and honey cooling on the counter, Zeff gruffly telling him to eat before it got cold. It felt like when he snuck his horrifying culinary experiments into his mom’s room, naively watching her choke down vile concoctions and telling him it was the best food she’d ever had with a smile on her face.

Food had always been magic, long before he started actually wielding it.

In the end, Luffy’s brothers convinced him to accept the assistance in serving dozens of hungry Fae, letting them handle dishing out bowls while Sanji himself focused on carting food between the galley and the deck. He’d have to make Robin something special for warning him that Shanks’ men ate and drank almost as much as Luffy.

Said boy was flittering and fluttering as per usual, jumping and weaving between the crowd to grab fistfuls of food, hang off Sanji’s shoulders for a moment with a crow, and do it all over again. Sometimes, Sanji swore his eyes flashed scarlet, lips stretching far too wide on his impish face.

The heavy beat of the music was overwhelming, thrumming deep in his ears and into his chest. There was a fire down below, swathes of Fae dancing to an unfamiliar song with loud laughter and flashing ankles. Some had horns on their heads, fur on their shoulders, translucent skin. Despite the flowing alcohol, their movements remained fluid, unearthly.

Brook was playing again. A violin’s song crooned a promise over the wind, an oath to whisk away his troubles if he only let himself be lost.

“You can go down and join them if you want,” Sabo’s elbow jabbed into his side, and Sanji jolted. He hadn’t realized he’d been staring. “Fair warning, you will probably dance until you die. Ace and I would pull you out long before that happens, though.”

His eyes were drawn to a satyr leaning against the ship’s railing. The Fae man looked almost identical to Usopp despite having a smaller nose. Where Usopp’s features were soft and inviting, his doppelganger’s face was hardened, lips drawn in a sure smile that held none of Usopp’s false bravado.

He smelled Nami’s tangerine perfume first before her shoulder knocked against his. She looked stunning, as always, hair affixed high atop her head and short dress riding scandalously up her thighs; he was still getting used to the differences in fashion from the human realm. She looked like she’d swallowed a lemon.

“Miss Nami,” Sanji broached carefully. “Can I get you anything to eat or drink?”

Her gaze shifted coolly to him before nodding towards the strange satyr.

“We,” she said tightly, painted lips pursed. “Do not like that guy. Got it?”

“Who-”

“Usopp’s father,” Nami muttered. “Goes by Yassop. Usopp doesn’t talk about him much, but it sounds like he abandoned his mate and kid to go play in the Spring Court. Ussop’s mother passed of sickness when he was only a kid; Yassop never came for him.”

“Sickness?” Sanji startled. “I thought… well…”

“Not everything can be healed with magic,” Sabo said gently. “There’s limits, even out here.”

Nami nodded. “You’ll find Ussop wearing a sun-shaped mask. He doesn’t want his father to see his face until he’s able to prove he’s a ‘brave warrior’. He’ll ask you to call him Sogeking; just play along, got it?”

Sanji’s brow furrowed. He knew what it was like to try to live up to a father’s impossible standards, but… “I disagree. Ussop’s already-”

“I know it,” she interrupted sharply. “You know it. Everyone in Luffy’s court knows it, and we’ve told him so. He’ll figure it out. Someday.”

Her eyes softened as she looked out over the railing, and Sanji caught a glimpse of gold glimmering in the firelight. “I hope.”

“He will.” Sanji found himself saying. “If he’s with Luffy, he will.”

Nami only hummed, snatching a drink from a passing Fae and downing half in a single gulp. Her eyes remained stormy, brow furrowed.

“You’re not joining the party,” Sanji said carefully. “Are you alright? If you’re hurt, I can-”

“It’s not that,” she said dismissively. “I’m just… we’re still waiting on word from the Summer Court. There’s no doubt that Crocodile attacked them while the rest of us dealt with Germa and Totto Land combined. Vi- I mean, Queen Alabasta should have sent a snail already; we’re just waiting to receive it.”

They were lovers, he recalled. The fact that Nami was as composed as she appeared was only a testament to her strong spirit.

“So, this is the elusive Cook, huh?”

The red-haired Fae that stumbled towards them was clearly drunk, cheeks ruddy with intoxication. He looked… surprisingly normal, almost human despite the sharp slant to his ears. Yet, his eyes remained sharp, dark and intelligent.

Both Nami and Sabo straightened up at his side but made no move to try to shield him from sight or whisk him away. An ally, then, but a strong one.

The Fae swayed pathetically, then reached forward to neatly pluck Nami’s drink from her hand and throw it back.

Sanji bristled. “Hey, asshole, that’s no way to treat a lady-”

Nami’s elbow dug into his ribs, driving the air from his lungs. He successfully bit back a whimper at the agony lanced through his abdomen, still tender from the battle. Reiju hit hard. Nami and his sister were alike in that regard.

“It’s a wonderful evening,” she greeted, syrup sweet while Sanji heaved at her side and Sabo hovered nervously. “Your grace.”

Ah. This must be Shanks, then. Sure enough, he was missing an arm when Sanji looked closer, the result of taking on a curse meant for Luffy, if he remembered the story correctly.

Shanks only guffawed loudly, head tilting back in laughter. He looked nothing like the king Luffy’s crew had described. Then again, Luffy wasn’t very intimidating either.

“I like you, kid,” Shanks grinned lopsidedly, raising his empty tankard towards Sanji. “I’d expect nothing less from Luffy’s brother. Heard what you did for his wing, too. It’s rare for a human to earn a life debt, especially from a Fae as strong as Zoro.”

Sanji blinked. “A life debt?”

Shanks’ smile turned positively wolfish. “Oh, the boy doesn’t know, yet?”

He looked between Nami’s tired expression and Sabo’s sheepish face. His stomach sank.

“Know what?”

Chapter Text

“You see, Cook,” Sabo said delicately, and Sanji knew he was fucked. “When someone willingly sacrifices their life for another in the Feywilds, like you did for Zoro, there’s a sort of… connection created.”

Sanji felt his eye twitch. “Just give me the whole explanation, or I’m going to Robin.”

“Zoro owes you a life debt,” Nami chimed in helpfully, hiding a smile behind her palm. “You two will be linked until that debt is repaid. Same thing happens to the recipient of a promise if it goes unfulfilled.”

“Linked how?”

“You’ll see.”

He didn’t like how cryptic they were being. He also certainly didn’t appreciate how the so-called king of the Spring Court was watching them with no small amount of entertainment.

“Where is he?” Sanji muttered, stalking to peer over the railing. “I’m gonna kill him.”

“That wouldn’t be recommended,” Sabo said nervously. “There can be some… complicated side effects to that part.”

He spotted a head of green on the outskirts of the throng of dancing Fae, massive tankard in hand.

“Watch me.” Sanji hissed, and stalked towards the gangplank. He resolutely ignored Shanks’ hoots of laughter, the way Sabo stifled a snort at whatever Nami was whispering in his ear. He didn’t want to murder Zoro, not really, but he was certainly going to kick his ass.

The jaunty melody grew louder as he approached, seeping down his ears and into his head like sweet syrup. He smelled smoke, scented with woody herbs. Pounding feet rushed up his pulse in a steady beat, his own beginning to hop and tread to the rhythm.

He felt light, like the very wind could pick him off and whisk him away. He’d let it. He’d come to do something, though. Something important. It just… seemed to matter less and less. Then not at all.

Sanji barked out a sudden laugh, head swimming. He didn’t remember drinking any alcohol. He’d always been a lightweight. Though, the last time he’d had it was when he snuck a swig of rum from Zeff’s liquor cabinet.

He’d just turned twelve. It felt so long ago. Sometimes, Sanji wondered if he was still there.

The music called to him. A skeleton glanced his way and nodded affably; Death himself must be a fan of the violin. It looked like he was smiling. He must always look that way, Sanji mused. It would be hard to frown without lips. If he cried, nobody would know, because he would still be smiling.

That thought made him sad, but only for a moment. It too passed away with the leaves in the wind, carried up and away by songs and starlight.

A hand clamped around his arm and wrenched him around. Sanji was light on his feet, thankfully. He’d always been lithe, agile. It was his one redeeming quality in terms of physical prowess.

There was a mossball speaking to him. He’d never heard of a talking mossball, before. One really could see anything in the Feywilds.

The mossball shook him. That was rude, and Sanji told it so. And oh, it had wings. A flying mossball. Fascinating.

“Do your brothers know you’re here?” It asked, fuzzy head squinting towards the ship searchingly. It was winking; it never stopped, one eye closed.

Sanji blinked owlishly. “Which ones?” He asked, then giggled at his own cleverness.

There were more words, all garbled into song. Sanji only smiled like Death did.

“I came,” Sanji said thoughtfully. “To fight you.”

“Yeah, well, join the club. Oi, Luffy. You take ‘im.”

That was a nice name. Luffy. Loo-fee. It was a good name; he rolled it over his mouth again. Luffy. It tasted bright and sweet on his tongue and made him think of sunshine and open skies.

The mossball rolled its one, winking eye and shoved him against something stretchy and warm and giggling that swung him around and into the rhythm.

Sanji’s feet flew, lighter than feathers, lighter than the clouds that his brother loved to play in. Every aching pain he’d accrued over his lifetime faded away with his worries. He didn’t have to think about the father who wanted him dead, nor the chef who wanted him alive. They both thought him deceased, anyways. In their minds, he truly was dancing with Death now.

And brothers. He didn’t have to think about brothers anymore. Not the ones he hated yet mourned, dealt the cruelest fate known to man, the inability to love. And for the other brothers, he didn’t have to yearn and wish and hope for something that could never be his to have.

He didn’t need to worry, not anymore, not when the sun-satyr and the woods-woman and the whale-man pressed their palms to his, not when the earth shook with the pounding thuds of stone-flesh and healer-deer. He only laughed when the flying mossball kept him from tumbling to the ground, and allowed the sun to pull him in once again.

The moon reached its zenith. He wished he could dance forever.

Twin fires pulled at his arms. Gently, at first, then more firmly. The sun clung to his back and complained, begging for a little more time. The flames only laughed and dragged them away.

The music began to quiet, and with it Sanji’s head sank from above the clouds to the ground. His feet became heavy, bouncing quicksteps sludging and scuffing along in the dirt. For a moment, reality shocked him like a bucket of ice water, fading deep into a cool, soft exhaustion.

“Damn,” he managed to murmur, sagging in Ace and Sabo’s hold. “You weren’t kidding about the dancing to death thing.”

Ace chuckled, arm sturdy under Sanji’s shoulders. “Yeah? This is a pretty small party by the Sun Court’s standards; some of Luffy’s victory celebrations last for weeks. This one’ll probably only last until sunrise.”

“You should re-join the party, then,” Sanji managed to stand on his feet without swaying. “I’ll get some rest real quick. Make some more snacks to bring out.”

There was a whine in his ear, Luffy’s nose nuzzling down into the fleshy pulsepoint of his neck. “But Cook is here.”

“Aren’t you hungry? I can-”

Luffy huffed, rocking back and forth and almost sending them both toppling to the ground. “Sanji can more make snacks later.” He said petulantly, poking Sanji viciously in the cheek.

“You’re running on fumes, Cook.” Sabo rushed to steady him as they walked over the deck, now empty save for Nami staring pensively out over the water. “Even Luffy can see it.”

“I’m fine, let me cook-”

“Damn, was really hoping that the party would just knock him out.”

“Ace.”

Sanji waited until they’d stepped inside the ship to begin struggling and avoid a spectacle, pulling the support around his shoulders. He needed to cook; there were dozens of Fae outside. “Let me go-”

They would be hungry after the party finished. Ace and Luffy were always hungry, they needed so many calories, and Sabo was a deceptively picky eater. He needed to evaluate the ingredients they had on hand-

“Cook, you have to stop-” There were too many hands on him, a weight still hanging around his neck.

He hated being restrained. Loathed the loss of control that came with it, the way he still felt shackles over his wrists when there was nothing around them. His breath stuttered in his chest. “Let me go!”

It was too much.

“Please!” He said, and Luffy’s brothers dropped him like he’d burned them. Luffy’s foot knocked against the still-tender part of his stomach in the process, a flash of white-hot pain blinding his vision and dulling his senses as he sank to his knees with a groan.

There were no arms on his shoulders, nobody on his back. Sanji curled around the throbbing ache in his gut, arm draped protectively around his waist. It was easier, without the hands. It was also colder. He kept his gaze fixed on the floor; he never could stand the expression of sympathy, worry, hurt.

“Just give me a moment.” Sanji repeated stubbornly. “I’ll keep the gloves on, if that’s what you’re worried about. But I need to cook.”

“Why?” And that was Luffy’s voice, curious and low.

“Because.” Because he was good at cooking. Because they were hungry. Because he needed to be useful. Because he couldn’t bear to be thrown away by his family again.

He didn’t mean to say that last part out loud. The silence ran for too long.

“Don’t be stupid,” Ace suddenly scoffed, and Sanji startled. “You’re making it sound like you’re a tool or something to use. I don’t care if you came back to us absolutely shit at cooking, or at everything else for that matter. All I care about is that you came back.”

Sanji yelped as Ace hauled him up, points of contact burning and aching. His breath hitched when fingers brushed at his wrists, tracing the raised red lines and scar tissue years of being shackled left behind.

“You can be useless,” Ace said, tilting Sanji’s chin up to look him in the eye. “You can be as selfish and crass and lazy as you want. You are not a thing. You are our brother, and brothers don’t throw each other away.”

But that was exactly what his family had done, he wanted to say. They’d tossed him in the dungeon for being the failure, only retrieving him when he had a purpose to fulfill, an execution to take his father’s place for.

“Your true name is Blackleg Sanji.” Ace murmured, and his eyes blazed with fire that trickled down the self-made bond and pooled with the magic in Sanji’s core. He felt like putty in Ace’s hold, soft and malleable. Whatever he said next, Sanji would become.

But Ace only gave him a toothy smile. “That doesn’t sound like Vinsmoke to me, Cook.”

Sanji shuddered, unable to look away when Ace leaned in closer.

“And I promise you,” He continued, and smoke plumed from his lips. “That I will never throw you away.”

“Me too, Cook!”

“Me as well.”

Three brief shocks jolted up from the base of his spine at the declarations, threading into his core like liquid lightning. Three brothers, three vows. The pressure left his ears ringing, vision whiting out for a moment.

It was everything he’d wanted. Everything he didn’t deserve. Sanji bit his tongue until metallic blood coated his mouth instead of ozone.

A cool hand against his forehead startled Sanji from his stupor, knuckles trailing down to brush at the wetness on his cheeks.

“You’re a little feverish,” Sabo said softly, tracing the lines of Sanji face. “Let’s get you to bed, alright?”

Sanji shrugged. Planted a foot that shook and buckled like a baby deer when he put his weight on it, sending him sliding down against the wall.

“Here, I’ll-”

“No.” Ace’s arm held Sabo back from rushing forward. “Any of us are willing to carry you, Cook. But you need to tell us what you want. All you ever have to do is ask.”

Sanji’s lips parted in surprise, shock turning swiftly to indignation when Luffy only laughed and threw himself to lie at his side, arms splayed against the wooden floor.

He pushed himself up with trembling arms that ached and burned, overtaxed muscles promptly sending him tumbling back down with a hiss of pain.

“Ace…” Sabo said pleadingly. “I can’t watch this.”

“You don’t have to.” Ace slid down to crouch with his back against the wall. “All you have to do is ask, firebug.”

Sanji shot him a defiant glare, and promptly fell over again. His eyelids fluttered, vision graying out and back to color again.

There was a heavy sigh. “I’ll make sure Luffy’s navigator didn’t steal all the pillows in our room again. Just… don’t let him hurt himself, okay?”

He ignored the conversation that started up between Ace and Luffy, pointedly avoided their gazes. Luffy had the strangely pensive expression the boy held only when he was thinking, gods forbid. This was a test, and Sanji only needed to prove that he was strong.

The fourth time he tried to stand, he couldn’t hide a cry of pain when his knees hit the deck with a vicious thud. His head pounded in time with his throbbing stomach, bile in his throat.

Luffy tilted his head to the side. “What does Cook want?”

“For you to quit bothering me.”

He hummed. “No, that’s not it. Tell us what you want.”

They’d promised never to leave him. He would not be their burden, would not take advantage of the kindness they freely gave. He’d been trained for this from birth, to push his body past the point of exhaustion and human limits for it to stand up again and keep running.

Sanji clawed at the wall, hefting himself up. Dragged an unwieldy body sapped of strength both mundane and magical, and planted his feet against the floor. He stood.

He smiled in triumph, blinking at the black spots that rapidly encroached on vision and blurred hard enough to obscure Ace’s frowning features. “See? I told…”

A blink. His chest fluttered. Why was the air thinner? “I told…”

There was a sensation of falling, somebody catching his head before it slammed against the floor. Nothing. Then, the all-too-familiar sensation of Luffy’s finger poking at his cheek.

And he was still on the floor. Bastards. They could’ve at least given him a pillow.

Sanji groaned, batting Luffy’s arm away with the force of a kitten. “Stop it. Asshole.”

“Not until Cook tells us what he wants!” Luffy jabbed at his face.

Luffy could force him to say it all, he knew. Any of the brothers could, holding his name in the palm of their hands. But while Luffy’s voice was heavy and forceful, there was no magic pull behind it that tugged at Sanji’s lips. He wanted him to say it on his own.

He sighed, pressing his cheek against the cold flooring. It felt heavenly against his flushed face and aching body; maybe he could just stay here forever. Apologize to the ladies for being a roadblock in the hallway. Make like Zoro and become a sentient pile of moss.

Running got exhausting, after a while. Running away, running towards, running in place; it didn’t matter. He just wanted to rest, for a little bit. Not too long. But maybe, just tonight.

“All you will ever have to do,” Ace whispered, and his fingers ran through Sanji’s hair. “Is ask.”

Sanji groaned. “I can’t.”

He didn’t even know why he was fighting so hard, anymore. It’d become second nature to fight back, to growl and hiss and spit rather than grovel and beg.

Ace’s voice was fond. “You can. You always can.”

“Then fuck off.”

“Is that what you want?” The hand stilled in its ministrations against his scalp.

He shook his head, just a little. The hand moved again, and Sanji melted into the floorboards.

“I’m tired.”

“I know.”

 “I’m… I’m tired.”

 “I know. You can rest, now.”

Every time he blinked lasted a little longer. There would be pillows in the room Ace and Sabo used, he knew. Blankets. Brothers.

Sanji gave up, and wanted.

“I want,” he sucked in a breath. “To be home. Here, on the Sunny. I want to stay.”

Once he started, it was hard to stop. He barely noticed the arms that slipped under his knees and his back, hefting him easily into the air. Tears pooled at his chin.

“I want to see the ocean. To go… to go on the adventures we always talked about. All of us.”

The cushions he was set upon were luxuriously soft, rich velvets and silks that cradled his aching body in their embrace. He didn’t need a blanket with the way Luffy sprawled over him; one was set over them anyway. Ace lay on one side, Sabo on the other. There was no danger here, protected on all sides. He could rest.

“I want…” Sanji strained to stay awake. “I want to be… I want to be worthy.”

“Of what?”

“Being your brother.”

“You already are, Sanji,” he heard Ace whisper as he finally succumbed to sleep, surrounded by warm bodies in a room suffused with soft light. “You always were.”

Chapter Text

Sanji stirred to the sound of someone whimpering.

He was pulled by the urge to wake up, to offer comfort. He couldn’t move, thoughts molasses-slow and body impossibly heavy. Though, that last part might be Luffy lying on his chest, he registered.

Someone shifted at his side, letting out a quiet sigh. They sat up, carefully extricating themself from the pile of limbs.

“Ace,” Sabo whispered, and there was the sound of jostling. “Ace, wake up. You’re having a nightmare again.”

He didn’t sound surprised, only resigned. There were more quiet murmurs of comfort; they sounded rehearsed, routine.

A loud gasp of wakefulness.

“Don’t let him go!” Came a sudden shout, a shaking breath. “Don’t, don’t let him go, Sabo, they’ll take him, he isn’t- they killed him, he’s lost and I can hear him crying-”

Sabo hushed him. “He’s right here, Ace. Look.”

A hand was guided under Sanji’s chin, his quiet puffs of breath blowing against their fingers.

Ace let out a quiet sob, and Sanji hurled himself into a state of semi-wakefulness. He blinked rapidly in the dim lighting; they’d kept it on for him, he realized with a pang. But there were more important things.

“Ace?” He slowly sat up, rolling a snoring Luffy off his lap. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing’s wrong, Cook,” he said, voice too wet to be truthful. “Just a bad dream. Go back to sleep.”

He was shaking, Sanji realized. Ace was shaking.

He’d never been any good at comfort. His mother never let on when she was in pain, and Zeff certainly wasn’t the warm and cuddly type.

With stilted movements, Sanji tried anyway, gangly limbs wrapping the eldest brother in a hug. It was awkward, made even more clumsy with the stubborn dregs of sleep that clung to his head like cobwebs.

Ace sucked in air like a man starved, arms grabbing and clutching at Sanji like he was a life preserver in an endless sea of saltwater. There was a third body that wrapped around them both, protective and gentle.

“You’re okay,” Ace murmured. “You’re okay, you’re alive.”

“I’m here.” Sanji responded. Already, sleep threatened to reclaim him in her heavy embrace, tugging at his eyelids. His hold on Ace was already starting to slack.

“Don’t leave.”

Sanji blinked, long and slow. “I… I won’t.”

He felt Ace smile tremulously into his shoulder. “You falling asleep on me, Cook?”

“Mmh… no…”

Everything was warm. He felt like he was falling, but through layers of soft, fluffy clouds that slowed his descent like a feather floating on the wind. He was too unaware to register the way his body went limp, breaths evening out in the thin veil between sleep and wakefulness.

“He’s asleep.”

“I don’t get it,” Ace whispered over his shoulder. “The promise was fulfilled, Sabo. He came back. So why did I still feel him? The connection should have been broken. You don’t… you don’t think they still have a part of him, do you? Locked up in the dark?”

The words should have been concerning. But he was too tired to care, too zoned out to fully register the concerned discussion going on right in front of him.

“It’s just the echoes,” Sabo murmured. “You and Luffy were in his nightmares for a long time; it stands to reason that you’d have some of your own, now. I haven’t seen Luffy sleep this peacefully in years.”

Ace shuddered under his chin. “I can’t believe… I thought that it was just the remnants of his spirit, lost and confused. But the pain he was in, he was so scared, and hurt, and we… we just… if I’d known-”

 “He’s here now. That’s what matters. It has to be; watching us wallow in guilt would only pain him when he needs us most.”

A hand brushed his shoulder; Sanji jerked, startled and confused. Awake. He needed to stay awake, for Ace, who was hurting. He needed to help Ace.

“Go back to sleep, Cook,” Sabo murmured in his ear. “Ace is okay. Being here is enough.”

Sleep. Sleep sounded nice. He let out a tired hum, nestling closer to the sources of heat that suffused through his bones. Mumbled something wordlessly, slapping at Luffy’s hand when it draped over his stomach.

The last thing he heard as he floated away again was Ace’s laughter.

Everything went muffled, for a time. Sunk down deep below the surface, Sanji drifted through syrup-thick sensations, muscles slack and wonderfully loose.

There was something wet pressed to his lips. It was sweet and rich, and he drank greedily. A wet cloth swiped over his cheeks, wiping away dried tears and sweat. His head rested on someone whose chest rumbled like the purrs of an alley cat.

Sanji heard a little giggle, felt a wave of peppermint that flowed through his blood and eased lingering aches. A plush blanket was pulled up to his chin, smoothed over by hooves. He could feel Chuji get tucked up under his chin, body rising and falling with little breaths.

He couldn’t recall the last time he’d been so relaxed, sleeping without wistful dreams or nightmares. Only darkness, offset by the flicker of light behind his eyelids. There was blissful nothingness in his head, body cradled by a nest of soft fabrics and cushions.

It was nice. He allowed himself to revel in the sensation, drawing out the time before wakefulness gently pulled him from the deep depths of slumber. His eyes felt as though they’d been glued shut when they fluttered open, face slack with sleep.

The ceiling had been turned into open sky, just as Luffy had done to his galley. He even had to blink the sunlight from his eyes, a warm breeze tousling at his hair.

“Hey, you’re finally awake.” He could hear Ace’s smile, and batted away the hand that ruffled his windswept bangs.

Sanji groaned, slowly emerging from the pile of blankets and pillows to blearily glance the other’s way. Ace was sitting before a sprawling mess of parchment, crude sketches of what he recognized from his time in Germa to be battle plans and strategic formations.

He had a feeling Ace’s plans put a whole lot more importance on individual lives than Ichiji’s or his father’s.

Rubbing his eyes, Sanji let out a quiet yawn. He should get started on breakfast, if it wasn’t too late. Maybe brunch? “How long was I out for?”

Ace’s grin turned sly. “Oh, you know. Only three days. Nice bedhead, Cook.”

“What?!” Sanji bolted up, tripping over his own loose limbs as he hurried to his feet, blinking away the dizzying headrush. He mindlessly shoved a snoozing Chuji into his front pocket, earning himself a sleepy squeak of dismay. “You should’ve gotten me up, everyone must be starving-”

Ace caught Sanji’s wrist easily as he stumbled by, hauling him to a halt. “Easy, firebug. You were asleep for so long because your body needed it. Haven’t missed much; Summer Court hasn’t gotten back to us, so we’re making our way to the coast. You also got another round of healing while you were out. If it’s any consolation, Luffy was also asleep for about two days. He tends to crash after any kind of battle, but even this was a record.”

“I haven’t seen Luffy sleep this peacefully in years…”

Sanji’s blood went cold.

“What did you mean,” he said carefully. “When you said you and Luffy were in my nightmares?”

Ace’s face shuttered, letting go of his arm. “You weren’t supposed to hear that… guess you’re not as heavy of a sleeper as you used to be, huh?”

“Ace.”

The eldest brother made no move to look at him, studiously wrapping up the parchment of battle plans and swiping them into a small satchel. “It’s in the past, now. Don’t worry about it.”

“Ace.”

With a sigh, Ace leaned his head back against the wall, then patted the floor beside him.

“I want you to know,” he said carefully as Sanji plunked down as his side, pulling a loose blanket around his shoulders. “That this isn’t your fault. You’re going to blame yourself, and I can’t have you doing that.”

The sinking feeling in Sanji’s gut only grew stronger. “Tell me.”

“Sabo told you that unfinished promises or debts have consequences, right? Connections between all parties involved. The realm of dreams… that’s one of the strongest points of connection.”

Sanji started putting the dots together. He’d promised to return, then didn’t. Sabo, fully human at the time, wouldn’t have been affected by a vow the same way Luffy and Ace were.

“What did you see?” He wondered aloud in dread.

Ace mindlessly pulled Sanji’s hand into his lap, thumb pressing at the pulse point on his wrist as though to remind him that Sanji was still there, still alive.

“When Luffy or I slept, we only saw darkness,” he muttered, pushing deeper against Sanji’s heartbeat, hard enough to bruise. “It was mostly what we heard, what we felt. We thought it was just your lingering spirit calling out to us, but they weren’t nightmares, were they? It was just your reality.”

There’d been so much pain whenever his brothers found him. So much loneliness, counting every flicker of the candles that Reiju smuggled him, waiting and watching the wax drip and burn and hoping his sister would visit soon. She did her best, supplying him with candles and matches that could be easily hidden under his meager blanket, sneaking him piles of books and thicker pillows. Never extra food; she lacked the keys to his helmet.

Some days, Sanji thought he might have gone insane.

“I’m sor-”

“Don’t.” Ace cut in sharply. Then, softer, “Don’t.”

“It wasn’t-”

“Don’t apologize. Don’t try to pretend you didn’t suffer.”

It wasn’t a big deal, he wanted to say. He’d gotten out. He was free, now.

Then why did he still feel the helmet?

Ace shifted, pushing his shoulder against Sanji’s. “You called for me. When you were cold and in the dark, you called for me. I didn’t answer.”

He’d called for a lot of people. Once, he’d burnt his arm over the measly flame of a candle in the vain hopes Ace would somehow feel the fire burning his flesh from miles away. He called out for his father, his mother. Reiju, Zeff. The pair of idiot buffoons at the Baratie. Luffy and his brothers. All he’d ever wanted was a sign that somebody listened.

“But you were there.” Sanji realized out loud. “You and Luffy, you were… I wasn’t alone. Down there. You were with me.”

He’d wondered if anyone could hear him. If he mattered to anyone anymore, if he was still human and allowed to live. His brothers had listened.

They always had, always would.

“Once you can control the magic you already have,” Ace said fervently, pressing Sanji’s hand to chest. “You’ll have my blessing. You’ll have my flames. You won’t be cold or in the dark ever again.”

“But you already gave Sabo-”

Fire licked down Ace’s wrists, flickering warmly over Sanji’s fingers and up his arm. “I care about my brother far more than I care about magic. You’ll never be alone again.”

But I never was.

“Besides,” he shrugged. “Blessings only take a tiny bit of magic. And I don’t plan to give any to Luffy; he starts enough fires on his own.”

That bubbled a chuckle up through Sanji’s chest, earning himself another indignant huff from Chuji as he jostled the little rat around. They’d had more than one accident around a campfire, usually resulting from Luffy flinging around a lit tree branch as a makeshift torch and declaring himself king of the forest. It was only Ace’s intervention that kept them from setting entire trees alight.

“And speaking of magic,” Ace said pointedly. “Sabo had some trouble wielding my flames after… everything happened. He and I should be able to help you manage your magic flow without burning yourself out, pun intended.”

That was fair.

“If you’re offering, I want to get back into practice with combat,” Sanji admitted. “Zeff taught me all his techniques, but it’s been a long time since I properly put them to use.

He half expected Ace to balk, to demand that Sanji never put himself in harm’s way again. To tell him that he was going to stay locked up on Luffy’s ship where he would be safe and sequestered as Sanji the human. At least he would see the sky, and cook to his heart’s content.

Instead, Ace just shrugged. “Do you want to? It’s your choice.”

Sanji nodded. He still recalled how his childhood spars with Luffy and his brothers made his blood sing, all of the strength and none of the weakness he displayed when sparring with the other Vinsmokes. Luffy and Ace didn’t always fight fair when it came to their brothers, but they were never cruel.

He wanted to be able to defend himself. To defend others. To feel strong and regain the autonomy that was once ripped away from him.

Ace grinned. “Alright, then. But don’t expect me to go easy on you.”

Sanji only smirked, shirking off the blanket around his shoulders. It wasn’t a blanket, he realized, but a cloak, rich velvet with a luxuriously fluffy trim in a soothing shade of light blue.

Following his gaze, Ace’s smile softened. “Chopper dropped that off after he healed you again. Says it was from his old mentor; we’re pretty sure it’s his baby blanket.”

Tracing his fingers along the corner, Sanji’s brow furrowed. It swooped and dipped in a circular motion in a way he’d only seen in…

“This is from Germa,” He realized suddenly, and Ace startled. “See the way the trim curls here into a spiral? This is a royal cloak. Are you sure it wasn’t just pilfered during Luffy’s raids?”

He could already imagine it, the cheerful reindeer growing disheartened by Germa’s meager human medicine stock and (at Robin’s suggestion) feeding his despondency with luxurious blankets and sweet things left in the kitchen.

Ace leaned in. “No, I’m positive. Chopper’s had this long before we ever stepped foot in the castle. It’s his prized possession, he only lends it to his crewmates after they’ve been injured.”

“They’re all monogrammed,” Sanji said slowly, flipping the article around to examine the interior. “My fa- I mean, Judge was very specific about that. Color-coding, too. Everything I owned was a hideous shade of piss-yellow; the clothes you always saw me in were from Zeff. But Niji’s shade of blue is much darker than this, so it couldn’t be…”

Everything stopped for a moment at the sight of a painstakingly embroidered V.S.

It didn’t make any sense. The light blue, the delicately embroidered initials…

“Cook? What’s wrong?”

Vinsmoke Sora.

“I think,” Sanji said slowly, his eyes slowly rising to meet Ace’s concerned expression. “I think this was my mom’s.”

Chapter Text

“I wish I knew more, Sanji,” Chopper said tearfully, propped up at the galley table with the blue cloak bundled on his lap. “Dr. Hiriluk never told me where he got it.”

Doctor, not healer, Chopper had explained firmly. A Faerie obsessed with bringing magical medicine to the human realm with an insatiable love for the mortal world and its inhabitants that eventually led to his own death.

He sounded like a good man, Sanji thought. Also, a bit of a crackpot.

Jinbe hummed, the most serene figure amongst their impromptu meeting between most of Luffy’s court, Sabo and Ace included. “From what has been explained to me, the Vinsmoke brothers and potentially Sanji himself were the targets of a magical deal. Is it possible that this Dr. Hiriluk was the one responsible?”

Luffy’s friends were always careful that way, never referring to Sanji’s blood-brothers or father as such. It seemed intentional; the words of the Fae always were.

“Absolutely not!” Chopper squawked. Sanji doubted the little reindeer knew he was rubbing the cloak against his round cheeks in a vain attempt to self-soothe. “Dr. Hiriluk would never hurt a human, even if it meant his own death!”

In the end it, Sanji supposed, it had.

“My mother was bedridden for most of my childhood,” Sanji admitted quietly. “There’s no way that she traveled to the Feywilds…”

Sabo nodded thoughtfully. “That doesn’t mean that a Fae didn’t come to the human realm, though. And from what you told us of her, it sounds like she would have been friendly to any visitors in hiding.”

He’d never told Ace, Sabo, and Luffy about his father, his brothers, or his given name beyond vaguely insinuating the sources of his bruises. But he’d talked plenty about Reiju, and endlessly about his mother.

Explaining that Zeff was not his birth father became a necessity only after he caught sight of Ace sneaking around outside the Baratie with a knife.

Robin tapped her nails against the cup of tea Sanji had served her, drawing all eyes towards her.

“Perhaps,” she said mysteriously, taking a sip. “This mystery would be related to why our dear Cook did not share the same fate as the Vinsmoke brothers.”

Sanji shook his head. It was true that he likely had some aftereffects from proximity, but… “We already have an answer for that. The palace physician only heard three heartbeats and concluded that my mother was having triplets. The trade was only cast for three; it was just dumb luck that I was the one spared.”

Despite being far more refreshed than he’d been in years, Sanji’s mind felt like it was running through mud, slipping and sliding through puddles that raised more questions than answers.

His mother never bothered to hide her sympathy towards the Fae, openly saying as much to her children and palace staff despite the way it drew Judge’s ire. If she’d met a Faerie, why didn’t she tell him?

He’d found his mother’s portrait on the kitchen counter upon entering the galley, leaning against a cookbook written in a foreign language he had no way of deciphering. It seemed Luffy had begun transferring his hoard. He would need to check through the items, see if the sticky-fingered changeling brought anything else back from the castle that belonged to his mother.

Next time they docked, he’d need to find a strange rock like the ones Luffy used to collect. And quickly, before Luffy decided his next fixation would be on something like bugs.

The cloak. His mother. The Fae. He was human; he also had Luffy’s magic. There had to be more, something he was missing-

Sanji didn’t realize he’d started tugging on his hair until Luffy pulled at his hands, meeting his stare with a grin.

Luffy blinked owlishly, eyes flashing scarlet and crinkling with joy. “It doesn’t matter. Cook is Cook. Cook is Sanji.”

“It’s not that simple, dumbass-”

“Isn’t it?”

Sanji startled, glancing over at where Zoro lay sprawled on a set of cushions. He’d thought the Faerie to be asleep; his eyes were even still closed.

Ace shrugged. “He’s not wrong. If we find more, we’ll explore it. If not, you’re already part of our realm. We just gotta figure out a way to make you live longer than humans do.”

That was the second time one of Luffy’s brothers had mentioned the subject. He wasn’t sure exactly how long the Fae lived. Based on her sheer breadth of knowledge, he suspected Robin to be older than multiple human lifetimes. He’d never ask a beautiful lady her age, but he certainly pondered it.

Part of him wanted to argue that they shouldn’t put themselves at risk for him. The wiser part of him recognized that saying as much would probably make Ace explode and burn down the ship.

“I can be of help for that,” Franky raised a stone hand. “I’d totally outfit the lil’ guy with a super new form.”

“That’s very kind of you,” Sabo cut in delicately, slapping a hand over Sanji’s mouth. “But I would rather not strategically maim my younger brother to the point where we need to artifice raw material to what remains of his body. We don’t know how well it would work with a human, anyway.”

“And we are also,” he continued sternly, and Brook’s opening jaw shut with a clack. “Not going to exchange his shadow with some unknown trickster.”

Well, that all sounded absolutely horrifying. Sanji resolutely tucked those tidbits of information into the deep dark cupboard in his mind that contained anything he simply didn’t want to think about.

Though, he noted with a quick glance, it seemed that Brook at least got his shadow back.

“Great!” Luffy clapped his hands together, leaning his full body weight against. “I’m hungry, Cook! Breakfast!”

Sanji rolled his eyes, but couldn’t help the fondness that came with it. Three days was a long time for Luffy to wait, even if he didn’t doubt that other members of the court kept him fed. “Fine. What should I make?”

While Luffy rattled off a lengthy list of dishes that mostly included meat, meat, and more meat, there was a tug against Sanji’s tunic.

“Cook?” Chopper’s voice was tremulous. “If this was your mom’s cloak, then you should… you should be the one to have it.”

His little hooves were trembling when they held out the article, wide brown eyes lingering longingly on the thick bundle. It felt a bit like stealing sweets from a child.

Sanji kneeled down to Chopper’s height, gently pushing it back to him. “Nah. I’d prefer if you’d keep it safe for me.”

He didn’t think his mother would mind. She’d always had a soft spot for small creatures. Once, he’d been desperate for any sign of her, had hunted for any proof that she’d existed after Judge decreed that every image of Vinsmoke Sora be destroyed.

Even if he didn’t have the picture Luffy had collected or Chuji on his shoulder, he didn’t need the cloak anymore, not really. He’d found his home again, a ship full of friends, brothers who care too much, and a garden of moonflowers. He suspected that’s exactly what she would have wanted for him over stealing a dusty old cloak from a little forest spirit who was currently squealing and looking at Sanji like he hung the moon and stars.

“I will!” Chopper said sincerely, dancing from hoof to hoof. “I take very good care of it!”

There was a small smile on his lips when Sanji retreated to his kitchen. Someone had restocked the ingredients, separated cleanly into organized groups that made him suspect Usopp. The cold box Franky had engineered had an incredible amount of meat in it; it seemed someone had recently gone hunting.

Slices of pork-like meat were quickly set to sizzle on high heat, tubers finely chopped and shaped into potato patties to fry in the rendered grease. He needed to slice fruits for the ladies, who preferred a lighter fare. Sweet honey cakes would be enjoyed by all given the Fae’s love for the stuff, but he’d make sure Luffy didn’t steal Chopper’s portion.

As he cooked, Sanji felt an old song rise up his throat in a low hum. It’d never been quiet in the Baratie’s kitchen. Despite being fully aware of his title of princeling (it was impossible to hide his status when surrounded by former palace staff, after all), the crabby old chefs treated him as one of their own. He learned the songs of criminals, pirates and thieves.

“Fucking hell, you’re still leaking magic like a raincloud.”

Life debt or not, it was a good thing Zoro was good at dodging, or else he’d have a foot-sized hole in his gut.

“What do you want, moss for brains?” Sanji scoffed, wielding a spatula threateningly.

Zoro gazed over the ingredients and half-finished platters of food assessingly, frowning. “Where’s the rice?”

“For breakfast?”

“That’s what I said.”

He remembered reading that in one of his books, actually. Different regions had different food staples served during meal times. Rice seemed to be a common one, now that he thought about it.

“Alright.” Shrugging, Sanji grabbed a large pot to start rinsing rice. Much as he’d proclaim his loathing of the bat-like man, he didn’t detest anyone enough to deny them a favored meal.

“I was meaning to ask about that, actually,” Sanji said out loud, marveling at the cold water that ran through the tap with only the touch of a lever. “Is our rice from the human realm? Everything here has a slightly different flavor profile or different colors, but when I made some last night- I mean, a couple days ago, it tasted… normal.”

For a moment, he wondered if Zoro hadn’t heard him as the silence dragged on for a minute, broken only by the endless chatter from the dining area. It was more likely that the idiot was just ignoring him; Sanji opened his mouth for a scathing insult.

“Yeah, it’s from the human realm,” Zoro cut in, meeting Sanji’s curious gaze too evenly to be natural. “We stock up. Stores well.”

Slowly, the water lost its opacity with each rinse, murkiness receding. “Do the Feywilds have their own types of rice?”

“Yup.”

“Then why-”

“Don’t ask stupid questions.” Zoro sniffed. “If you want anything from the human realm, ask Nami. She and Usopp take care of inventory.”

That wasn’t why Sanji asked, but it was good to know. While experimenting with new and unfamiliar ingredients was a culinary delight, he did miss having a basic and reliable set of spices to build on. Perhaps he could ask for Usopp’s help in making a simple herb garden. Growing some rosemary, thyme, and sage would make a solid companion to any type of meat. Oregano was for savages, but for Zeff’s sake he could deal with a small pot of the stuff…

Sanji shook his head, banishing the thought of sweet and woodsy aromas that tickled his nostrils. He had a mosshead to interrogate. Only, when he turned to continue his questions, he was only met with Zoro’s bemused expression.

“What the fuck are you looking at?”

The grin that stretched across Zoro’s lips was startlingly cat-like. “You look constipated when you think about food.”

If he hadn’t been carefully measuring the required ratio of rice to water, Sanji would’ve killed him. Though, it sounded like that might no longer be an option…

With a sigh, Sanji put the rice over the magically-sourced heat and resumed his work on other dishes. A drizzle of honey over the cakes would do nicely, another over sweet berries for the ladies (and Chopper). “So, about that life debt…”

Zoro snorted. “Don’t worry. I’ll be saving your sorry ass soon enough. Debt’ll be fulfilled in a week, tops.”

And there it was again, Sanji noted. A week. Ace and Luffy used human terms for time, but they’d grown up in the human realm. Zoro inexplicably preferred human rice, and used human words. There was a mystery to unravel, but he doubted the foul-mouthed brute would give him more than an inch to work with.

Sanji scoffed. “More likely I’ll only end up doubling your debt by saving your ass again-”

In a blink, Zoro was in his face, steely eye glinting as their foreheads touched. Haki pressed over his shoulders, but Sanji steadfastly refused to let his knees buckle. His lips curled up in a smirk.

He was afraid of too many people, too many things. His father, his brothers, bugs, the dark. An empty-headed idiot with a temper who kept Chuji safe and fed didn’t exactly make the list.

Warmth spread from where their skin touched, flooding down through his fingers and toes. This felt right, the thudding of his heartbeat in tune with Zoro’s drums, the bloodlust rising up his chest and into his throat. He felt powerful.

Zoro’s eyes widened.

“Alright, you guys, break it up,” Ace’s voice drawled, and there was a distinct snap of loss when a hand pushed firmly at his chest and forced him to take a step back. “Much as I want to see how this plays out, Nami dropped by with an update. We’ve got something to show you, Cook.”

Luffy danced around the trays of food, dodging Ace’s attempts to snatch him with ease as he stuffed his gaping maw with meats and sweetcakes.

“Can it wait?” Sanji asked, managing to smack the idiot across the head with a waiting spatula, earning him a distressed squawk. “I’m almost done with breakfast.”

Ace exchanged a knowing grin with Sabo, who’d slipped in to set aside a heaping plate, presumably for Sanji himself. The kitchen was getting downright crowded. “Nah. Robin says she’ll take care of the rest.”

“I couldn’t-”

“Trust us,” Sabo said, eyes dancing. “There were three things you asked for, remember? You already have us, and I’d argue that adventure will follow Luffy’s crew whether we want it to or not. Do you remember the third?”

I want to see the ocean.

For the first time in his life, Sanji willingly abandoned a kitchen of half-prepared food, and ran.

Chapter Text

It was more beautiful than Zeff could have ever tried to describe.

“She’s big,” the old geezer had explained unhelpfully when asked. “Bigger than anything you’ve ever seen.”

Technically, he wasn’t wrong. Gloriously blue waves stretched beyond the horizon and further still. The water truly was saltier than the water he used to boil pasta, splashing up to kiss his face in a fine spray as he leaned over the railing of Luffy’s ship.

Shocked laughter swelled over his tongue like the waves down below. There was a shimmer of scales just below the surface, shimmering with rainbows that didn’t compare to the dull, gray-toned fish from freshwater streams he was used to searing. How would the taste of its flesh compare to the mild, lighter fare he was used to preparing?

A hand snagged the back of Sanji’s tunic before he could tilt overboard.

“Whoa there, Cook,” Ace laughed, expression soft. “We’re not anchored yet. Can’t have you getting sucked under the boat if you fall in.”

Sanji was keenly aware of the child-like giddiness he was displaying, at odds with his preferred composure. He simply couldn’t bring himself to care. “We’re putting down anchor?”

“With the rate this crew eats, we need to stock up as much as we can,” Nami sighed. She looked tired, dark rings under her honeyed eyes. Concern about the queen of the Summer Court, he suspected. “We’re expecting some allies, anyway. For now, plenty of fruit trees a little ways from the shoreline, and there’s more fish in this area than even Luffy could hope to finish off.”

Somehow, Sanji doubted that. “Where would you like me?”

He hoped it was on fishing duty, where he could put his face into the ocean spray. But if he was gathering on land, he could get his feet in the water…

Nami’s eyes softened. “Do whatever you want, Sanji. You’ll be the one cooking it later, anyway.”

It would be polite to offer his help anyway, Sanji knew. To laze the day away while the others (especially the lovely women) worked themselves to the bone to provide food was against everything he stood for. Zeff would skin him alive.

He wasn’t strong enough to resist when Luffy flung them to shore with his rubber arms, brothers in tow. Maybe, he didn’t try at all.

Even when landing face-first into the stuff, he found sand to be gloriously warm and fine. Little particles stuck to his eyelashes, sapping all saliva from his tongue when he accidentally inhaled. It ran through his fingers like silken gold.

Scrambling to his feet, Sanji slipped and slid over uneven ground to where the water met the shore and plunged his feet in. There was a brief shock of cold, soothed instantly by the sweltering heat of the sun.

Splashes at his side signaled Ace and Sabo’s arrival, but they were still missing one.

“Luffy!” He called back, barely resisting the urge to throw himself deeper into the cool, blissful water. “Aren’t you coming in?”

Said boy gave the ocean a sour look in response, lips pursed in a pout. He was a decent swimmer, Sanji knew. All of the brothers were, taking Sanji to swim in the river as kids.

“The ocean doesn’t like him,” Sabo whispered with a conspiratorial grin. “Though it’s a two-way thing; the sun and sea don’t mix well. Just be glad that She’s not trying to outright drown him anymore.”

Sanji tiled his head to the side. “But isn’t your magic made of fire?”

Ace snorted. “Yeah, well, we didn’t declare that we’d be High King of the entire Fae realm. She tolerates our magic, but has a soft spot for the forest folk. Makes it easy for them to use their magic to breathe underwater.”

Sparing one last brief glance over to where Luffy was deadlocked in a glare with a crab (were the waves of Haki really necessary?), Sanji shrugged and shirked off his tunic before hurling himself into the waves

Sabo’s startled shouts were muffled by the quiet rush that filled his ears, body weightless under the water. Sanji opened his eyes, expecting to be met with all blue, and was instead greeted with every color of the rainbow in vivid hues that didn’t compare to Zeff’s charcoal sketches.

He was dimly aware that his eyes should be stinging under the saltwater, but it felt more like a cool balm instead, like the wet rag the old geezer would toss into his face after he’d been crying for hours as a shrimp of a kid. Jutting structures made of hard sponge grew from the sand, fantastic whorls and jagged edges. Little fish darted to and fro, translucent domes trailing ribbons floating without a care in the world.

It was calm. It was perfect. It, no She wanted him to stay.

There was a face in the bubbles that slowly rose from the coral reef, soft and feminine. She looked like his mother, with trailing locks fanning gracefully in the water and blue, blue eyes. She held out a hand, and smiled.

Welcome, dearest human. The woman, the ocean spoke without words, a haunting melody of soft croons that spread in waves and lingered. I had wondered when your blood would return home.

His blood. The cloak, his mother, the Fae-

There was a tug at his wrists, pulling him deeper, further, heedless of the desperate brothers that lunged behind them.

Opalescent fingers trailed down Sanji’s cheek. He heard giggles, saw flashes of beautiful women with sharp teeth and bare chests that darted away before his eyes could focus on them.

Come, She said, and She was pleased. Come, and meet your new sisters. They have missed you so.

There was a pressure in his chest now, tight and uncomfortable. Sanji tugged at his arms, but the hold on them was iron-clad. Ace was going to kill him if he drowned down here.

He found that he wanted to please Her, to once again hear her gentle trills. He was also drowning, and the two realizations warred and conflicted deep within him, soft submission and a frantic panic held in a deadlock that left him frozen in place in the grip of something older than a god.

With a flick of her vibrant pink tail, one of the women approached. A mermaid, he thought distantly, the pressure turning into a burn that threatened to bubble past his lips with the last of his air. Zeff had never seen one before, but the myths existed regardless. Green hair framed a perfect face. He should have been frightened by her dark eyes, obsidian-black that reflected none of the dappled sunlight above. They crinkled with mirth, and he only felt wonder.

She held his face in her pale hands. Gave him a sweet, tender smile. And promptly slashed through the sides of his throat with her claws, just behind his ears and under his jaw through the thin flesh beneath. The way blood bloomed between them was strangely mesmerizing, even as the pain hit him in an agonizing shock.

The pressure released from his chest in a final exhale, saltwater streaming through the gaping wounds and into his throat, down to the heaving lungs below. It burned, his bucking body held firmly in place by the bubbles locked around his wrists, the mermaid’s soothing caress against his cheek almost mocking in comparison.

A dark shadow soared overhead, a stark silhouette with wings that dove with a vengeful stance, swords in hand. Sanji caught sight of a snarl as it breached the plumes of blood seeping from his own slit throat.

If Sanji had any air left in him, he would have called him an idiot, diving into the ocean’s own waves to fight her.

No, the ocean said, and whisked Zoro away like he was nothing. Do not interfere, sky child.

He would not die here. Not after everything he’d survived, not when he’d just started fighting and started rejecting a life in the dark and taking what he wanted-

Pain bloomed, then wilted into something peaceful, final. Calm washed over his still, limp body in a sudden wave. The ocean was in his chest, and settled there. The green-haired mermaid was beautiful, even if she was deadly.

As fast as she’d struck before, she lunged again, pressing her lips to the jagged mess of flesh. A breath. Once, twice, and she moved to the other side. His lungs filled with something, heavier than air but lighter than water. The blood dissipated, leaving behind only a cool tingling at his neck. His chest rose and fell steadily, flaps of skin flaring and settling with each gasp of breath.

Gills. She’d given him gills. Sanji would say it was impossible, but he really couldn’t keep using the term after the insanity his life had become.  He found himself longing for just one normal day where he wasn’t either half-dead or being forcibly claimed by an ancient entity that inexplicably had taken a liking to him.

Wonderfully done, Camie, The ocean said, and the girl beamed. Come, your sisters will inform the royal courts of your arrival and give you a proper welcome.

“I can’t stay.” Sanji tried to say, but all that came from his lips was a strange chirp. Camie hid a giggle behind her palm, mimicking the sound in a sing-song tone. Somehow, the ocean understood him anyway.

The figure of bubbles collapsed into a vortex that surrounded him fully, swirling iridescence that shimmered with pictures. Himself, surrounded by new siblings. A stunning mermaid with pink hair a hundred times his size, lifting him in her massive palms with wide eyes that shone with joyful tears. His own legs, slowly fusing with the years that passed in a blink into a shimmering tail of blues and teals. Himself, happy, safe, cherished, loved, forever.

Of course you can, She whispered in his ear, the echo bouncing between his ears like a thunderwave. You can. You must. There is nobody I trust more to find my legendary waters. That is your dream, isn’t it? Hunter of the All-Blue, my little explorer. My precious human.

There was a brief moment that he glimpsed it. Fish, as far as the eye could see, shimmering in a vivid rainbow in shapes and sizes beyond what he could ever imagine. He wanted it. He wanted all of it, to learn the ways of the sea, to catalog every fish from the human and Fae worlds in a single place, to cook up a delicious feast for his broth-

But they wouldn’t be there, would they? Not if he took this path.

“The ocean is a fickle thing,” Sanji recalled Zeff telling him once. “Calm waters one moment, a raging storm the next. Possessive, too. Get trapped in her waves, and she’ll hold you until you’re nothing but dust or a bloated corpse.”

He could only shake his head and hope she didn’t feed him to the sharks.

The bubbles all dissipated at once with a sigh that spread for miles. Just as stubborn as my children, stubbornly clinging to the sand and sun. The last word was spat with a touch of vitriol, and Sanji was suddenly reminded of a beaming boy with a ragged old hat. Here, I can keep them safe. Here, I could keep you safe, if you would only let me. I would give you everything.

She couldn’t give him Luffy. He wasn’t Hers to give. And anyways, Sanji didn’t want to be something as boring as safe. Not anymore.

Sanji glanced up towards the sun, which seemed to pierce through the water’s surface, hot against his skin. He shook his head again.

The presence started to draw away, pausing at each mermaid to bestow her love and affection, a scathing glare at the lingering sunbeam. There was a sudden tingle above his brow, right into the swirl that his mother would always kiss with a giggle; she made what should have been his father’s mark into something to be adored. I will be waiting for you, then, my human. Enjoy your gift, and return to me often.

That he didn’t have a choice went unspoken. He would have dove into her waves again anyways. Floating under the water made his blood sing-

His blood-

“Wait,” Sanji called, this time a squeak. “You said something about my blood. Could you-”

From the seafoam came a gleaming smile of needle-point teeth. And what would be the fun in that, little human? Say hello to Jinbe for me, and tell him that his mother wishes he would visit more.

Before he could respond, a massive trunk of an arm hauled him up from under the armpits, pressing him flush against blue skin and hurling them towards the surface.

Despite not having any water in his lungs, Sanji found himself gasping when they breached. For a single, horrible moment, he found himself choking on air, chest fluttering uselessly.

“You can breathe, Cook,” Jinbe’s voice rumbled behind his head, calm and unflappable. “Relax your gills. They can seal on their own in the air.”

Sanji attempted to give the whale-like man a glare as best he could with gaping lips and an undignified choking croak.

To his credit, Jinbe only chuckled. A massive palm smoothed over the flared flaps of skin on his neck, and air rushed into his chest with a woosh.

“You caused quite a stir, boy,” he grinned toothily, tossing a still-panting Sanji onto his back with ease. Despite his smooth appearance, the skin under Sanji’s fingers was rough and sturdy. “My tardiness was due to ensuring Luffy did not drown himself jumping after you, and Zoro after him.”

Glancing back at shore, Sanji caught sight of a frantic Sabo waving both arms to gain their attention while Ace barely held back a snarling, white-haired Luffy. At their feet lay a waterlogged Zoro, facedown in the sand. His hero, he thought dryly. “I don’t suppose we could just stay out here a while?”

Jinbe’s back jumped with laughter, slowly ferrying them towards land. “That would not be a good idea, unless you would like your brother to fist-fight the ocean. It would not be the first time.”

For a moment, Sanji was tempted just by the sheer curiosity of how exactly one engaged in unarmed combat against the sea. He was also torn between simply napping forever and jumping back down to take another look at the colorful fish and lovely mermaids.

Zeff always did say he had a death wish.

“Hey, Jinbe?”

There was a hum from below.

“She said that my blood had returned. Did she mean that I’m related to ocean Fae?”

There was a moment of silence. Then, “I would not guess to know,” Jinbe murmured. “Magic blood works in mysterious ways. You are human, but perhaps… also not, in some ways. It is my prediction that this is not the last you will hear of this.”

“Yeah,” Sanji muttered tiredly, poking at the new slits adorning his throat, sealed shut against the warm air. “I’m beginning to think that, too.”

Chapter Text

“Cook,” Luffy whispered for the seventeenth time directly into Sanji’s ear, the hot gust of breath making him cringe. “Cook, be my wing.”

Sanji dutifully manipulated the skewer of seasoned fish around the firepit with gloved fingers, reveling in the warm sand under his feet. The setting sun cast red and violet light over the waves, churning colors that melded and swirled like the kind of paint only nobles could afford.

“No.” He repeated tersely. The fish they’d caught were turning out to be flaky and tender, perfectly complimented by a deep and smoky rub. With a heartier taste than freshwater fish, they paired perfectly with the chutney he’d prepared from fruit that had a sweet and citrusy tang; he’d already cooked at least a dozen for the crew.

“But Sanji,” Luffy moaned, clinging to Sanji’s back like the barnacles Ace had pointed out. His fingers smelled like fish. “I want you to be my wing.”

One glance across the firepit told him Ace and Sabo weren’t going to be of any help based on the way they studiously avoided his gaze, let alone the rest of the crew scattered in a loose formation along the shore, wide leaves in their laps being used as plates.

Sanji said, honestly, “It’s just not a good idea, Luffy. You guys said that a king or queen can only pick two wings in their lifetime. I’m still human, with a human lifespan-”

“For now, anyway,” He heard Ace mutter darkly. “Dunk him in the ocean a couple times, see what happens.”

“-and even with the abilities I’ve gained, they don’t compare to the experience and magic your crew has. You’d be putting an easy target on your back.”

“Besides,” Sanji sniffed. “I don’t want to be paired with a man whose brains were replaced by algae.”

Zoro looked like the alley cat Zeff gave a bath after it wandered into the Baratie full of fleas. Rumpled, sulking, and still a little waterlogged. He gave Sanji a dry glare.

“Feeling’s mutual, asshole,” he grumbled, snatching a fish straight from the fire and biting straight into the sizzling meat without even a wince. “But if Luffy says you’re his second wing, you’re his second wing.”

Sanji shrugged. “I refuse.”

“And I refuse your refusal!” Luffy said stubbornly, leaning over Sanji’s shoulder to inhale the mindlessly-offered fish in a single bite. Mouth full of meat, he continued, “You’re my Cook. Sanji is mine.”

It was hard not to soften at the way Luffy’s grasp tightened infinitesimally. He’d been clingier than usual (if that was even possible) after Jinbe had towed him ashore as though fearful Sanji would wash away in the waves again. He could still feel Luffy’s magic settling over his skin, seeping deep into the fresh gills on his neck and rushing into the blood below. Stubborn and possessive, just like its owner.

“And you have me,” Sanji assured him. “You don’t need some kind of magical bond for that. Besides, wouldn’t Ace or Sabo be a better idea?”

“Nah,” Sabo chimed in unhelpfully. “There just hasn’t been any reason for us to, and Ace and I weren’t really keen on swearing fealty to our kid brother, anyway.”

“Don’t do it, Sanji!” Chopper shouted (not for the first time) from his perch on Franky’s shoulder. “Not until you’ve got your magic use under control. The bond to Luffy and Zoro’s magic might kill you!”

Robin hummed from the other side of Franky’s head, leaning around to stroke Chopper’s fur. Franky, on his part, was blissfully digging into dinner. “It would be an interesting experiment, regardless. I wonder, would his eyeballs melt from his skull? Or would he simply explode under the magical pressure into a spray of gore and stringy viscera?”

Franky suddenly looked a little less interested in his meal.

“See?” Sanji gestured towards Robin’s serene figure. “Melting eyeballs. Not a great idea.”

“Not a great idea right now,” Sabo nodded. “But later… Luffy’s claim on you as his left wing would make sure anyone from this realm knows you’re part of the Sun Court. There wouldn’t be any question that you’re dangerous to mess with, human or not.”

The insinuation that he needed some kind of magical brand to be dangerous had Sanji’s hackles raising, even if the comment was well-meaning. He wasn’t a helpless child in need of protection. Inexperienced and in need of training, he would acknowledge. Total protection and a claiming from a boy he saw as a younger (he simply refused to acknowledge the possibility that Luffy might be slightly older than him) brother? Absolutely not.

Ace’s hand over his shoulder was grounding, cutting off the venomous words threatening to spill from his lips.

“Don’t give it too much thought, Cook,” he said quietly, though his gaze roved darkly over the raised lines of flesh on Sanji’s neck. His magic skittered thickly over Sanji’s shoulders, searing into his skin with popping flames. “Like Chopper said, it’s not an option right now anyways.”

We’ll visit this later, is what he really meant. Sanji took an even breath through his nose. Out the mouth. They meant well, he reminded himself. Up until a few weeks ago, he’d been dead. If their positions were switched, he wouldn’t be able to stop hovering either.

It was still stifling. The minutes spent finishing the rest of the fish they’d caught were spent in tense silence, broken only by Usopp and Brook’s awkward attempts at conversation and Luffy’s continued complaints in his ear.

“I’m going for a walk,” Sanji announced abruptly, setting aside the last of the skewers. Only, Luffy made no move to get off his back. “Alone, Luffy.”

And when he went to stand after untangling rubbery limbs from his shoulders, Ace and Sabo were already halfway to their feet. With a quick, unspoken exchange of looks, the former slowly sunk back down to the sand.

Sabo cleared his throat, approaching cautiously with his hands splayed open at his side like Sanji was some kind of skittish deer. He always had been the peacekeeper of their little group. “How ‘bout we go together, Cook? I can tell you about the different types of birds that live along the shoreline.”

They’re just worried. They care. It’s not their fault.

“I’ll stay in sight of the ship.” Sanji compromised tersely, patience slowly grinding down to the bone. He took a step. Sabo took a step with him.

“Or, or we could collect some seashells,” Sabo continued doggedly, scratching at the scars on his face the way he only did when he was stressed. “You used to talk about the old chef’s collection. Why not start one of your own?”

They think you’re weak.

Sanji finally felt what little patience he had left snap when Zoro of all creatures came to join their little standoff, yawning lazily with a stretch of his wings. “And what the fuck do you want, moss for brains?”

Zoro’s crooked grin shifted to a smirk. He jerked his chin toward the tree line, fingers on the hilts of his swords. “I still owe you an ass-kicking, right?”

A challenge and a way out. Maybe he’d underestimated the demonic Fae. “You’re on, shithead.”

“That’s not-”

“Don’t worry, Sabo,” Luffy cut in calmly from his sprawled position in the sand, dark eyes staring straight into the setting sun without even a wince. “Zoro won’t hurt Sanji.”

Despite Sabo’s protests, Sanji didn’t hesitate to follow in Zoro’s footsteps as the other strode into the trees. They were different from the ones he was used to, leafless up until the very top, with wide, fanning leaves.

The sand turned coarse under his bare feet, but no less walkable. Cool shade did little to quell the roiling mass of frustration deep in his gut. It boiled, festered with the knowledge of his own shortcomings, with the brothers’ worry, with his own inability to keep himself from getting whisked away by whatever friend or foe or ambivalent godly creature took a liking to him.

He could still feel Ace and Luffy’s magic clinging to his skin, lingering smoke and sunshine that branded him as a liability, a weakness.

Useless.

Sanji clenched his fists until his nails dug into his palms, white half-moon crescents indenting into his own flesh. He wasn’t weak. He knew how to fight. He saved Luffy. Saved Zoro.

And then you had to be rescued in return.

He was spiraling. He knew the signs well enough. The hitch in his breath was a familiar companion, the loathsome burn behind his eyes even more so. He needed to run, needed to move, needed to feel the hit of his feet against his target and win for once in his gods-damned life-

Zoro stopped in a little clearing, a distant crash of waves the only sign of the ocean nearby. He turned to face him. The air around his shoulders wavered with magic, one head splitting to three with the thud of a war drum.

Finally. Finally. Sanji balanced on the balls of his feet. His blood sang, heartbeat finally thumping into something steady, familiar. Zoro was crass, obnoxious, uncouth. Zoro was also the only one he could trust not to treat him like a fragile little human.

And then Zoro plunked cross-legged to the ground, and closed his eyes.

Sanji blinked. “Do I just… come at you, or…?”

He wasn’t about to jump an enemy while he was already down, but if this was some sort of fighting stance…

Zoro snorted and cracked three silver eyes open. “You can try, if you want to get your ass handed straight to you on an iron platter. Not going to be a fair fight without magic.”

“I have magic.” Sanji protested, then cringed at the whine that accompanied the words.

“And can you use it without killing yourself?” Zoro rolled his many eyes. “Magic without the ability to wield it means nothing. It’s useless.”

Useless. Pathetic. Failure.

Frustration boiled to rage. He felt himself start to shake. Even the birds had gone quiet, though that might’ve just been the ringing in his ears. “Fight me.”

“No. I’m meditating. You know, practicing control? Maybe you should try it, sometime.”

“Fight me.”

Zoro’s three faces grinned, and looked down on him while still on the ground. “You’re not worth the effort.”

Sanji boiled over like a pot of milk left unwatched on the stove.

With an aborted scream, he launched himself into a flying kick. Pulled the molten strands that danced over his skin deep into himself, threaded it into his fury, his frustration, his bitterness, and pushed it out in a single strike.

Heat rushed down his core, into his legs and out through the soles of his feet. He would not be weak. Never again.  

He didn’t see Zoro move. One moment, he was there. The next, he was gone.

Maybe that was a good thing, Sanji realized as his foot connected with the ground like a flame set to gunpowder. Dirt and splinters flew in a spray with a boom, the resulting heat only a tickle against the soles of his feet. The explosion sent him flying backwards like a ragdoll thrown by an insolent child.

It was only years of Zeff’s training that had Sanji twisting his own body at the last second to roll with the impact, though it did absolutely nothing to save him from a mouthful of grainy dirt in his mouth and nose.

When he glanced back, the crater was smoking, tiny flames left in his wake.

“Not bad, curly.” Zoro’s ugly sneer took up his entire view as the other leaned over him.

Sanji blinked, then eloquently asked, “What the fuck?”

Zoro snorted, nudging him aside with his foot to calmly grind his boots against the lingering little fires. “Luffy’s brother’s magic. Not yours. Still, took some control to pull it from outside your body, even if he’d layered it on thick over you.”

“What the hell are you talking about?” Sanji asked tiredly, attempting to wipe the dirt from his face and only smearing it further around his eyes. He probably looked a bit like a raccoon, he mused.

On his part, Zoro only gestured between Sanji himself and the still-smoking crater, as if to say, “Isn’t it obvious?”

“I’m going to need a little more than that.” Sanji huffed, making no move to get to his feet. He didn’t feel empty, not like he did after cooking without his gloves, but the air around his shoulders felt lighter, cooler. The traces of magic Ace had practically smothered him with were gone.

Zoro shrugged. “Robin wasn’t a very good teacher. Not for you, at least. Luffy’s brothers will be closer, but they’re too chicken to actually push you far enough to get it.”

“You take that back, Miss Robin is perfect-”

“Her magic is based on strict control and calm focus,” He continued. “She diverts it like water through a sieve. Yours needs something stronger to bond to so you can shape it. Think back. What did you use?”

Rage. Disappointment. Resent.

Sanji opened his mouth. Closed it. “I was… mad.”

“Pissed, more like.”

“Fine, I was pissed,” Sanji snapped, rolling his eyes. “But I can’t exactly get pissed off every time I want to make a meal, now, can I?”

The side of Zoro’s lip quirked up. “I don’t know, can you?”

“Oh, fuck off.”

There was a quiet snicker. “No, shit-cook. You don’t have to be pissed off. Strong emotions do just fine, and it seems like you feel plenty of those.”

Sanji could still feel the echoes of the rage in the pit of his belly, the way it’d sucked in Ace’s magic and became something malleable, molten lava that burned everything but him. If he could replicate that when cooking…

He hated to admit it, but Zoro could be on to something. The part of his mind that he’d never willingly let come to the forefront whispered that it was because the other understood.

“So, what,” Sanji said haughtily, examining his hands. Slender, pale, nicked with tiny scars and burns. Imperfect, honed by years of cooking; maybe he liked them that way. “I just… attach my magic to strong emotions? Hope that doesn’t kill me?”

Zoro held out his hand, and nodded his head towards the shore. “Only one way to find out. But first, I have a score to settle.”

The burn in his core was back, but softer. Set to sear instead of char. Sanji grinned, wild and unrestrained. He took Zoro’s arm, allowed the other to haul him to his feet.

“Wanna bet?”

Chapter Text

It turned out, Zoro wasn’t that shitty of a teacher.

Sure, he was obnoxious, and reeked of sweat. His ugly mug made for a hideous sight against the blue sky every time he sneered over Sanji’s fallen body after knocking him flat on his ass.

He was also surprisingly patient, adjusted to Sanji’s no-hands fighting style, gave clear feedback, and wasn’t afraid to hold back on his hits. The last part hurt like a son of a bitch, but was preferable to the guilty, horrified face Ace kept giving him after the other accidentally inflicted a particularly nasty burn on his leg (it hadn’t taken more than a minute for Chopper to heal, but the kicked-puppy look persisted).

Somehow, Zoro also knew exactly when Sanji was just barely stretched past his limits. Ace and Sabo cut off training too early, the latter pushing drinks of water and bowls of food into his hands the first time he fell to his knees with exhaustion.

He’d tried training with Luffy only once. The king of the Sun Court offered absolutely zero advice other than a giggle and a joyful “again, Sanji, hit me again again!” After collapsing in a dead faint on the deck in front of a crowd of onlookers, he wasn’t eager to continue under Luffy’s non-existent tutelage.

With every passing day on the sea, he grew stronger. His skin no longer stretched tight over his ribs the way it had back in Germa. Zoro’s bruising blows were softened by a padding of fat and muscle; Zeff would have been pleased. It felt good, fighting with a thrum of energy in his body instead of running on fumes and spite alone.

Under Jinbe’s watchful eye, he’d been allowed to return to the water. Far out from shore, coral reefs and colorful fish were replaced by dolphins, sharks, and leviathan-sized whales that dwarfed their ship completely and still haunted Sanji’s every waking moment (even Zoro hadn’t made fun of him for scrambling out of the sea for that one).

Throat-slitting incident aside, Camie and her sisters were absolutely delightful companions. Their strange chirps, whistles, and pulsing songs started carrying real meaning to his ears, though that was largely aided by the fact that they spoke the same language above water and therefore could actually explain the meaning of said sounds.

Even Luffy stopped grumbling about Sanji’s repeated treks underwater when he surfaced alongside Camie; apparently, the two were old friends. According to Usopp, their story was related to why the ocean didn’t outright try to drown Luffy by pulling him off the boat anymore.

He was living a dream, Sanji thought idly, delivering trays of drinks and snacks to each of the ship’s inhabitants with Chuji munching on nuts in his front pocket. Strengthening his mind and body, exploring the ocean, cooking until he dropped with endless troves of ingredients, all with Luffy and his brothers. It was perfect.

Nami’s increasingly morose expression forced him to reconsider that last part with a pang of guilt. She’d hardly reacted to his knock at the door to her map room beyond a curt greeting, eyes ringed with exhausted shadows. He’d need to deliver some pain-relieving tea of his own or Chopper’s design based on the way her shoulders tensed where she hunched over her spread of sea charts.

There was still no word from the Summer Court. Most of Nami’s waking moments were spent checking to see if there was any way to shorten their voyage. She’d sent the queen at least four separate carrier gulls, and those were only the ones Sanji had seen.

None had returned.

Her expression barely eased at the first sip of the tart tangerine drink he’d carefully set away from her maps, noting the condensation beading down the chilled glass. The desire to comfort and reassure, painstakingly wound into Sanji’s own feelings of worry and concern and pushed from his fingers while stirring the simple syrup it contained.

“Would you like anything, Miss Nami?” Sanji asked slowly. She’d started snapping at him whenever he used his words carelessly; asking if he could get her anything implied some kind of promise, while generally asking if she wanted anything without directly implicating himself apparently didn’t. At least, he hoped so. “You hardly ate at dinner.”

Even Luffy had quietly refused her portion when she scooted her plate in his direction.

It took several seconds for her to raise her eyes from her maps, almost startling when she met his expectant gaze. “Hm? Oh, no. That’s alright.”

She looked so tired. There was a smudge of ink of her cheek.

“Can I help?” Sanji asked, nodding at the stacks of maps and quickly backtracking when Nami’s gaze turned sour. “I mean, is there anything that I can do for you?”

Nami’s eye twitched.

“I mean, is there any work that I could do that-”

“Sanji?”

“Yes?”

Her smile was brittle. “When we reach the Summer Court, just don’t talk to anybody. Okay?”

That was fair.

He placed a tray of sliced tangerines on her desk anyway, accompanied by sweet rolls and more juice. Light, refreshing, easy to digest on a worried stomach. Nami sighed, but didn’t chase him off.

“We’ll find her, Nami.” Sanji said quietly, clearing away the empty plates and glasses from lunchtime. “From what you’ve told me, Vivi is strong enough to handle herself until we get there.”

It also helped that she’d apparently been a part of the same assassin’s guild as Robin. Deadly and beautiful, from what he’d heard.

“I hope so, Sanji.” Nami murmured, turning back to her maps in a clear dismissal. “I hope so.”

The night breeze should’ve been freezing against his face as he stepped out on the deck, bitterly cold with the wind and sea spray. He remained gloriously warm with the combination of enchanted clothes and the fire magic Ace stubbornly continued saturating him with.

He felt Zoro’s presence before he saw him. The other seemed to ooze magic uncontrollably, a ridiculous output of Haki that settled as a quiet, constant rhythm.

“I don’t have any more snacks for you, shit-head, so don’t bother asking.”

That was a lie. He’d set a plate of rice balls in the crow’s nest just minutes earlier, shaped with strength and rejuvenation in preparation for Zoro’s night watch. It used a new blend of seaweed seasoning Camie had shown him how to prepare, salty and nutty.

Zoro didn’t say anything. He only stared up at the stars, winking brightly in the cloudless sky. The silence was almost companionable, enough so that Sanji hardly felt the time pass until a sudden wave of sleepiness pulled at his eyelids.

There was a brief hand on his shoulder as Zoro turned away. No polite farewells, no goodnight. Just a pat on the arm before the other took off into the sky, black wings beating like a low peal of thunder. Probably off to do his nightly watch circuit, then. He nearly blended with the darkness of night, a green shock of hair the only splotch of color in the moonlight.

Sanji wondered what it would be like to fly.

He wasn’t sure when he’d started considering the other as a friend. It might’ve been when the other refused to hand Chuji over after the battle until Sanji himself could retrieve him, or when he grinned with barely-disguised bloodlust after Sanji’s first magical attack.

His face still begged to be kicked into the ground, of course, an urge that Sanji made absolutely no effort to dampen. But it was… fun, to hurl blows and insults. Zoro reminded him of Zeff, in a way, even if the two would probably hate each other.

It was a miracle anybody on the ship could stand to sleep with the sheer magnitude of snoring that occurred on a nightly basis. Franky both sounded and felt like a small earthquake, poor Robin tucked up against his side with an inexplicably peaceful smile on her sleeping face. Usopp’s loud snores and Chopper’s snuffles were, in comparison, quieter than a mouse.

Brooke was… laughing in his sleep, maybe? Either way, the sound was mildly haunting.

Not for the first time, Sanji mused as he passed by the main sleeping area and off to the small room next door, he was glad that Ace and Sabo preferred having their own sleeping area, dragging Luffy in with them. He was getting used to the sheer noise level of the Sun Court, but it was still… a lot.

Only Sabo stirred when he slipped inside, the other brothers entirely dead to the world in a tangle of limbs and sleeping bodies. He gave Sanji a tired smile, lifting a corner of the blankets between him and Luffy.

They were warm, when Sanji slipped underneath. The hand that combed through his hair sent magic skittering down to the base of his scalp, briefly pausing to press under his jaw before resuming in its quiet ministrations. He didn’t think Sabo was even aware of feeling for his pulse, as repetitive as the action had become.

Days of grueling training under a combination of Ace and Zoro’s tutelage combined with feeding the endless pit that was Luffy made for an exhausting combination. His breaths slowed, eyelids fluttering shut with a hand settled protectively over Chuji lest Luffy roll around in his sleep. Ace’s snores turned to muted silence, the sensation of Sabo’s hand still smoothing over his hair fading away to nothing.

They would help the queen of the Summer Court. Luffy could fix anything that was broken. Then, Nami would smile again, and it would all be perfect. He breathed out.

When Sanji opened his eyes, he wasn’t on the Thousand Sunny anymore. Hell, there wasn’t even a beach in sight. There was no sign of Luffy, or Sabo, or Ace.

The lines of the trees were too crisp and vivid to be a dream, unfamiliar as they were. The dark branches curled and whorled into smooth limbs, orange leaves gathered into flat clusters. It was raining, he saw, but nothing wet his skin.

Sanji’s hands flew to his face. No mask, then. He could strike off the “this whole adventure was a dungeon-induced hallucination and he was still rotting in Germa” theory, then. Small mercies, he supposed.

There was a girlish shout, the sound of wood hitting wood, a pained grunt. Sanji flew to his feet, and peeked from beyond the curled-limb tree to the clearing beyond.

It was a girl. She was painfully young, no older than ten, if he had to guess. Human, based on her rounded ears. Dark eyes shone with determination under raven-black bangs, little hands reaching up to slam a wooden sword against the torso of a wooden training dummy. Again, again, and again.

The rain running down her arms was dyed pink with the blood trailing from blistered, shredding palms. Sanji himself recalled the feeling well. There was a covered porch just behind her, a lamp lit in the window. Why didn’t she go inside?

He had no idea where he was, but he should at least make sure she was alright. Check in with any adults nearby, lest he scare the child by approaching her directly. If she wasn’t safe here, he’d just take her with him. Luffy would understand, would help find her a home. Maybe if Zeff-

“Hey!” The girl’s shout startled him; he hadn’t noticed her blows growing silent. “I know you’re watching me again! Come out!”

Again?

Before he could take a step from the undergrowth, what could only be described as a baby mosshead walked straight through Sanji’s body.

He blinked. “Zoro?”

There was no response, not even the miniscule twitch of the brow that always let him know the other was listening. Just to check, Sanji waved his hand in front of the boy’s face. No reaction.

Ace had described dreams as the strongest point of connection between magical bonds. Zoro himself had practically admitted he had some kind of history with the human realm. Was this…?

Mini-Zoro stood more than a head shorter than the girl, even from a distance. His ever-present scowl was still out in full force, more petulant than intimidating given the stubborn baby fat clinging to his cheeks. Sanji doubted Zoro’s wings could even carry his own body weight, little and drooping the way they were.

He was going to get so much blackmail material from this.

“What’re you doing, hiding over there?” The girl put her hands on her hips, cocking her head to the side. “I told you to come train with me!”

Zoro pouted, and Sanji desperately wished to capture the image forever.

“I don’t train with humans.” He hissed, about as threatening as a damp kitten.

The girl only giggled. “You can call me Kuina, not human. Are you hungry? I thought you might show up again, so I packed extra.”

Zoro’s shoulders hitched to his ears. “I’m not hungry, human.”

His statement was interrupted by the loud grumble of his belly. When Sanji looked closer, the boy was clearly underweight. Even if he knew the other as a behemoth of a demon, this version was only a child. Hungry, damp, and alone.

Sanji quietly resolved to keep the crow’s nest stocked with snacks, a personal stash for Zoro alone. The fear of starving didn’t go away when one grew up.

Kuina rolled her eyes, retreating under the porch’s protective shelter to meticulously dry her practice sword and wrap her hands. She threw a thick cloak around her shoulders, pointing to a matching one laid out on the deck.

“This one is for you!” She said cheerfully, already munching away at a rice ball she’d pulled from her basket. “I outgrew it, and none of the other village kids will use it since I accidentally got blood on it. Not mine, though. One of the boys thought it was a good idea to bully one of the little kids, so I taught him a lesson!”

She punctuated the statement by clapping a closed fist to an open palm, accidentally squashing the rice ball in her hand. With a shrug, she cheerfully tossed the now-rice pancake in her mouth.

There was no break in her story as Kuina turned away from Zoro’s shivering form to pull out more rice balls, each a bit gummy-looking and misshapen. Her recollection of punching a boy’s nose so hard that it ‘gushed blood everywhere and he cried like a baby’ was certainly… colorful, Sanji thought.

Did he still know her, in the human realm? Based on Robin’s cryptic responses, most of Luffy’s court were considered young by Fae standards, but a couple decades might not even register as much time. Was this so long in the past that the girl was only a memory?

Zoro’s eyes darted back and forth between the food and the forest. He shivered. “What are you planning to do, human? Trap me? Call over more humans so you can take my wings as a trophy? Eat me?”

Kuina hummed, pouring two cups of something warm and steaming from a bottle. “Nah, you’d taste like horse dung. Too stringy.” She pushed the second one closer to the pile of rice balls. “Faeries have visited our village before, you know. The elders see them as a blessing.”

The bat-boy took a step closer. “And you?”

“You look like a baby,” Kuina said, words muffled by the second rice ball she’d shoved into her mouth whole. “A really angry baby. If you tried anything, I’d just beat your ass to the ground.”

If Zoro’s brow went any lower, they’d cover his eyes completely. Still, he took another step forward. Waited. Darted forward to snatch a lump of rice and retreated back to the rain with his prize.

Kuina beamed, leaning forward to shove the cloak and food closer Zoro’s way. “So, where’re you from?”

Zoro wordlessly pointed towards the trees, cheeks puffed like a chipmunk’s. He was eating too fast, Sanji thought with a pang of alarm. He’d make himself sick, or worse-

Zeff always told him that when someone was truly choking, they went completely silent. Had taught him the proper way to thump between their shoulder blades, or drive a fist up their ribcage. Carne had even had to do it for him once, after an ill-timed blow from Niji during dinner sent him scrambling to the palace kitchens, blue in the face.

Sanji remembered the blind fear as his chest burned, vision fading and feet stumbling. He’d thought he was going to die, unable to respond as Patty and Carne shook his shoulders and screamed in his face. It’d been strange to him, the way Carne had apologized incessantly afterwards for the bruises blooming on his back, carrying his still-gasping body to the cooks’ bunkroom and laying him out in Zeff’s bed while Patty ran to find the old man.

They’d made him honeyed tea, snuck him sweets, shirked work and risked Zeff’s ire to keep him company, even if the geezer never actually made due on his threats that day. It was entirely unlike the crass individuals he’d come to know.

Now, watching a tiny Zoro choke on a few measly grains of rice with a dusty hue to his lips, Sanji understood their reaction. He was so small.

His hand passed through Zoro’s shoulder before he was even aware of moving. He could only watch as Kuina finally looked up from her latest rant during the extended silence, eyes widening.

It was a testament to the girl’s unflappable personality that she moved so quickly. The rice balls were knocked carelessly to the ground as she scrambled to her feet, throwing herself back into the rain to drag Zoro with her undercover. Her face remained flat and determined as she hit him solidly on the back, lips pursed in a steady frown until the moment Zoro started to cough.

“Thank goodness,” she sighed, forcefully bundling Zoro up in the spare cloak and receiving only a disgruntled expression as a thank-you. “You’re kind of stupid, you know that?”

Sanji himself certainly hadn’t had such a quick reaction time to emergencies during his early childhood, preferring to panic first and cry later. Though, maybe he had competition in the idiotic children department given the way Zoro reached down to pluck up a muddy glob of rice and stuff it in his mouth with the same lack of care as before.

“Slow down!” Kuina scoffed, using the end of her cloak to scrub grains of rice from Zoro’s cheek. “Dummy. What were you, raised by wolves?”

Zoro paused. Then nodded.

That… explained a lot, actually.

Chapter Text

It was more than a little amusing to watch a young Zoro get his ass beat over and over again. Sanji couldn’t feel his own bruises in dreamland, but could still imagine them twinging in sympathy.

Scenes, no, memories trailed one after another. Sanji’s surroundings would blur, changing with the sensation of falling. With every recollection, Zoro and Kuina looked a little older, a little taller. And they were always, always together.

They sparred every day, wooden training swords slowly morphing into real blades. The village they resided in had a clear fondness for the Fae given the way they welcomed a strange child into their midst and exclusively crafted swords made from copper rather than iron.

Never once did Zoro win against her.

Kuina’s blade had a white handle. It was achingly familiar, and Sanji’s stomach sank at what its presence at future Zoro’s waist likely meant. Maybe it was a gift, he told himself, or he’d won it after finally besting her in battle.

There was no reason for Zoro not to at least mention her. Not unless it hurt.

When the world fell away from under his feet again, they were in a field. The children lay side by side in the grass, staring up at the blue sky. Zoro, predictably, was looking straight into the sun with squinted eyes.

“I want to be the greatest swordsman in the world,” Kuina was saying, fingers playing with the white tassels on the handle of her blade. “But the elders say that swordsmen in the Feywilds are way stronger than humans. That the greatest swordsman is a faerie called Mihawk.”

Zoro hummed. “Yeah. I’ve heard of ‘im. I’m gonna fight ‘im and win.”

Based on a few snide comments he’d heard from Nami, Sanji could guess that Zoro in fact did not win.

Kuina propped herself up on an elbow to look out towards the forest, a hint of longing in her eyes. “Is it true that women can be warriors, out there?”

Sanji blinked, and the dark-haired girl flashed with the image of his sister, pink locks and all. A woman who could only ever hope to be queen by marriage despite her status as the eldest sibling. She was smart, fair, cunning. strong. Yet, the throne would go to Ichiji.

That is, if Judge ever died at all. If the man could sell the hearts of his own children for power, what wouldn’t he do for immortality? Sanji shuddered at the thought, only broken from his musings by Zoro’s sudden snort.

“Don’t be stupid,” He drawled, remaining starfished on the grass, and Sanji kicked him for the insult. It didn’t hit, of course, but the intent was there. “Girls can fight anywhere. I’m gonna beat you someday, but not because you’re human or a girl.”

Kuina laughed wetly. “You really believe that, don’t you?”

Zoro finally turned his head, brow furrowed over his eyes. How he wasn’t blinded by the sun already, Sanji didn’t know. “I mean, one of us is gonna be the world’s greatest swordsman. We promised, remember?”

A faerie’s promise. Unbreakable, even in death.

“It’s going to be you, Zoro,” Kuina said hollowly. “You heard what my father said. We’ve outgrown what the village can teach us. That means you have to go to the Feywilds to find another mentor. I can’t come with.”

“Why not?” Zoro asked, and Sanji’s stomach sank. “Just come with me.”

Roronoa Zoro, who had stated he had nothing against humans but did everything to dissuade Sanji from remaining with a bloody, impaled human corpse on a tree. A fae demon with a love for human rice who wore his best friend’s blade at his side.

Kuina was going to be killed in the Feywilds, he realized, and Sanji couldn’t stand to watch. She eagerly accepted Zoro’s offer, dark eyes regaining their excited light.

This Zoro looked so innocent, despite his always-existing bloodlust and ambition. This Zoro laughed freely and loudly, smiled often, and had shoulders that lifted high to his slanted ears instead of weighing down low with burdens.

Days passed. Weeks, months, until the rice was harvested and hefty rations were able to be packed for the journey. Kuina’s father gave his blessing, and Sanji wished that he refused.

Zoro went out hunting while Kuina finished packing, determined to bring back a few beasts for the villagers. It was in thanks, Sanji knew. He’d come to recognize how the Fae expressed their gratitude without words.

“Don’t,” Sanji called out, even if Zoro couldn’t hear him. “Marimo, don’t…”

As predicted, Zoro didn’t respond, only stomping out the door. But when Sanji turned around, Kuina’s dark eyes met his, ringed with sadness, regret. Her lower lip quivered. Then, she smiled.

The world fell away. When it came together again, Zoro was sobbing. Screaming at the humans to bring her back, to fix her, heal her. He kneeled next to a body, white cloth draped over her face. Raven hair peeked out from underneath.

She fell, they said. Down the stairs. Her neck had been broken. There was no magic, no deadly duel, no Fae tricks. Kuina died in her own home from a freak accident. She never even set foot in the Feywilds.

Somehow, Sanji thought, that was worse. Zoro’s wails were heavy.

“I don’t hate you,” Zoro had told him. “You’re just as likely to die in your world as you are in ours.”

He’d said that from experience.

Sanji could only watch as Zoro took her blade in his hands, vowing to carry her dream with him. “Wado Ichimonji.” He whispered the name with reverence, like a prayer.

Zoro said no goodbyes. Refused the food the villagers offered him, the place in their homes. He only walked to Kuina’s grave in rain as freezing as the day they met. Curled up at the base of the headstone with his wings as blankets, and slept.

The sun rose and fell. He slept on despite the villagers who shook him, talked to him, rang bells and hit gongs near his ears. Seasons passed at a speed that made Sanji dizzy. Still, Zoro slept.

He watched while the village moved on as the forest’s border began to encroach, leaving behind only a wooden shelter to shield Zoro’s slumbering form from the elements. In a way, Kuina got her wish. The Feywilds swallowed them both, lush moss growing over headstone and boy alike.

Sanji didn’t know how much time had passed when he heard humming. It had to have been years.

A girl emerged from the fog, dressed in thick, rich layers of pink and black silks. She twisted a parasol over her shoulder despite the lack of sunlight. Lips painted with black ink only served to accentuate her kohl-ringed eyes.

He’d never seen such a style before, not even amongst eccentric nobles. She certainly wasn’t human, based on her pointed ears and the way her heeled feet never even touched the ground as she floated forward.

She gasped, darting forward with impossible speed to pull and prod at Zoro’s wings. Sanji bristled.

“Don’t touch him-”

“You’re so cute!” The girl squealed, practically bundling Zoro into her lap. “Oh, your little bat wings are just darling! And your chubby cheeks!”

Zoro’s face remained slack.

She huffed, poking Zoro’s face with a sharp, painted nail. “Hey! It’s rude not to speak when someone is talking! Especially not after all the trouble I went to listening to that sword-girl’s directions!”

Still enveloped in her arms, Zoro’s eyes shot open with a gasp, followed by a yelp as the girl promptly dropped him to the ground. He blinked blearily, clearly startled by his surroundings.

“Who… where…” Zoro trailed off, eyes wide. His rumpled hair stood straight up, still just as short as the day he laid down. His arms wrapped around himself, much smaller than the man Sanji knew. “Kuina? Where’s Kuina?”

The girl cooed. “Ooh, I’m gonna keep you. You’ll fit right in with my plushies!”

Zoro, on his part, only drew Kuina’s sword, stumbling to his feet like a drunkard. A grave’s little sentinel. “You were talking about a sword-girl. Where’s Kuina?”

“Now, now,” the girl chided, pouting like Zoro had insulted her instead of holding a shaking blade up to her pale neck. “It’s not nice to threaten your big sister Perona! And after all the work I did in adopting you!”

Sanji saw the way Zoro’s eyes watered for a moment, then hardened. The villagers had referred to Kuina by the same title, even if the pair had never used it themselves.

Perona sighed, using her fingernail to push down the sword. She nodded towards the headstone. “I can see ghosts, batboy,” she explained, not unkindly. “The human girl under you begged me to come here. Said she has a message for you. Now, normally, I don’t do these things for free, but…”

Zoro had mentioned a sister before, he recalled. One who saw ghosts. Luffy and his brothers went to her to try and find Sanji himself. If he was right, then this girl…

She brightened suddenly, clapping her hands together. “I know! If I share her message, you have to come live with me! I’ve always wanted a cute baby bat brother!”

“I’m not your brother,” Zoro spat without hesitation. “But if you tell me what Kuina said, I’ll come with you.”

Perona’s eyes softened. She was dramatic, Sanji could tell, but she certainly didn’t seem bad or cruel. Hell, Zoro said she’d even tried to find Sanji himself back when he was presumed dead, free of charge when Ace and Sabo would have given her anything.

With a blink, Perona’s pupils suddenly expanded, inky blackness overtaking her eyes and threading through her veins like a dark spiderweb over her face. She breathed out a puff of white-cold air, and opened her painted lips.

“Zoro?” Perona’s mouth moved, but her voice was wrong. Higher, younger. “Zoro, can you hear me?”

Suddenly, Zoro couldn’t seem to get close enough to the ghost-woman he’d been scrambling away from. “Kuina?”

Perona’s lips smiled sadly. A manicured hand set itself over Zoro’s head, ruffling it affectionately. The flesh on her fingers started rotting, peeling from bleached-white bones. “Zoro. I don’t think I have much time. Listen close, okay?”

There were tears streaming over Zoro’s cheeks as he pulled Perona’s bones tighter against his scalp, like she could reach in with her sharp nails to tear at his soul.

“I release you from our promise. But you still have to become the greatest swordsman, okay? It’s my dream. Carry my dream with you, please?”

Zoro nodded fervently. “I will. I’ll… I’ll take your sword, and become the greatest swordsman!”

She smiled. “I know.”

Perona blinked again, and her eyes were her own. To her credit, she didn’t comment on the way Zoro cried, didn’t yelp when he threw her now-flesh hand away from his head. She only leaned over to tap Wado’s hilt.

“I can feel her, in there. She’s going to come with you.”

That explained why he was so attentive to the sword, Sanji thought. He was thorough in cleaning and caring for all his blades, but anybody could see that the white one was special.

“Now,” Perona clapped her hands together again, smiling toothily. “I believe we had an agreement-”

“Perona.”

She screamed, shamelessly pushing Zoro in front of her as a small shield. Then, she groaned. “You have a lot of nerve showing up here, Mihawk!”

The man that materialized from the shadows seemed more bird than Fae. Long and elegantly limbed, with massive wings of earth-colored feathers. His eyes were striking for lack of a better word, golden and piercing. He reminded Sanji of a hawk. The name made sense, then.

It was a bit fortuitous, meeting one’s self-proclaimed rival right after swearing once again to beat him. Zoro was, unfortunately, also clearly only a sleepy little kid that stood absolutely zero chance in winning.

“Perona.” Mihawk’s voice was flat, unemotional with only a vague hint of clipped curiosity. “Why have you ventured beyond my grounds?”

Was he… Perona’s father? Uncle? Guardian? They certainly differed too much in appearance to share the same blood, but he’d been told under no uncertain circumstances that family units in the Feywilds didn’t follow the same expectations as the human realm.

The ghostly girl only scoffed, pointing an accusing finger over Zoro’s head. “As if you don’t know! I go so unappreciated in this household, and then you had the nerve to insult my cooking? It was the last straw! I had to leave!”

Mihawk tilted his head to the side, a bit like an owl. “The leaves you used in the tea were deadly poison.”

“That doesn’t give you any right to insult me! Why did you even follow me, anyway?”

A pause. “The wolves roam these woods after dark.” Mihawk said, like that explained everything.

Inexplicably, Perona burst into tears. “Damn you, don’t say such nice things so suddenly!”

The whole conversation was giving Sanji whiplash. Based on Zoro’s puzzled face as his head whipped side to side to pay attention to each speaker, he felt much the same.

For the first time, Mihawk’s gaze settled on Zoro. “Who is this?”

Perona wiped her face quickly, smearing kohl over her cheeks. Just as quickly as she’d started sobbing, she brightened. “My new baby brother! Isn’t he so cute! Look at his little bat wings!”

Zoro hissed and batted at her hands when she grabbed at his wings, stretching them out at his sides.

Mihawk raised a brow, displaying what Sanji guessed to be a rare expression of confusion. “Perona, this is a child. A lost one, at that.”

“That’s the best part!” Perona exclaimed gleefully. “He’s an unclaimed orphan! And he wants to duel you, which means free entertainment for me!”

That at least seemed to shake Zoro from his stupor, the little demon scrambling to his feet.

“That’s right! I’m going to be the world’s greatest swordsman! Fight me!” He declared, shakily pulling Kuina’s blade from its hilt. “Fight me for your title!”

There was a pause, Mihawk staring unblinkingly at the boy. It was no secret that Zoro’s grisly scar on his chest was from the greatest swordsman. Surely, he wouldn’t…

“I don’t believe in massacring children,” he finally said, turning back towards the forest. Sanji sighed in relief. “It’s distasteful. Come along, Perona. Bring the boy, if you must.”

Sanji only watched as Perona happily dragged Zoro in her and Mihawk’s wake. He swore he saw faces blanketing her shoulders in gossamer strands of fog, eyes dead and open.

Everything began to darken, his peripherals growing fuzzy and dull. Hopefully, it just meant that the dream was ending and not something more ominous.

“Don’t worry.” Kuina’s voice suddenly echoed behind him. When he whirled around, there she stood, clutching a shadow of Wado over her own grave. Pale, translucent. Her neck had a horrible, horrible torque to it. If Sanji could feel it, there’d be bile coming up his throat.

She pointed towards Zoro’s retreating form. “Mihawk and Perona are really… strange. But they’re kind to him.”

Sanji took a step towards her, determined not to stare at her neck, only her lifeless eyes. “Are you really here?” He asked.

Kuina shrugged. “I think so. Dreams are weird. Will you stay with me, for a little? It’s been a long time since I talked to someone new. Some of Zoro’s swords have spirits too, but Kitetsu is awful.”

He was already seated before she could finish, and she brightened. “Thank you. We can’t stay too long here. You have questions, right? I can try to answer them, maybe.”

Sanji did have more than a dozen things he wanted to know, but all he saw was a lonely little girl with a broken neck. “That’s not important right now. What do you want to talk about?”

“You’re supposed to ask questions, dummy,” Kuina rolled her eyes. “Like maybe, why are you here, can Zoro see my dreams. You know, the standard fare. When Zoro owed Luffy a life-debt, he never stopped.”

That… sounded like Luffy. The thought made him fall into an easy grin. “Alright, then. Why am I here? Can Zoro see my dreams?”

“That’s more like it!” Kuina mirrored his expression, then snickered. Had she lived, maybe they would’ve been crewmates. Friends. “The short answer to the first one is the life-debt. The answer to the second one is yes. We saw Luffy’s dreams, at least. A lot of them were about you.”

Sanji nodded. The idea of Zoro living out his greatest nightmares was horrifying to say the least, but he wasn’t about to let a child know that. “I don’t expect you to know, but I’m trying to make a point of just asking any vaguely magical being about it. Do you know what I am?”

Kuina’s expression turned thoughtful. “You know, I really have no fucking clue.” She said bluntly, and Sanji choked. “I can’t see spirits that aren’t tied to Zoro either, you’d have to ask Perona for that.”

There was a pause. Their surroundings were growing more blurry; he could hardly see the grave or the forest anymore. He felt the growing sensation of blankets over his body, the plush pillows below.

“I think we’re almost out of time,” Kuina murmured. “If this is it, it was nice meeting you, Sanji.”

It was rare for Sanji to want to stay in dreamland given the nightmares that plagued him, but good memories did occur, even in the dungeons. His mother’s hold, campfires with Luffy and Ace and Sabo. He’d held onto those ones for as long as he could, until he swore he could feel his mother’s hand on his cheek when he awoke, could hear Luffy’s fading laughter.

Sanji held on, for Kuina. The forest came back into focus.

“You make him happy, you know,” She said suddenly, her head leaning against Sanji’s shoulder. His entire being grew chilled at the contact, seeping all warmth from his soul. He wrapped an arm around her shoulders anyway. “All of you do.”

“Yeah?”

She nodded. “He’s scared of being friends with another human. He thinks you’re going to die. Don’t prove him right, okay?”

Sanji softened. “I promise that I’ll try not to die.”

“Good enough.” She scooted closer, and Sanji couldn’t repress a shiver. He could feel the heat leeching away, tugging at his soul. “You know, I lied to Perona. I think she knew, though. Zoro’s really bad at figuring that kind of stuff out. Dummy.”

He didn’t know what to say, so he only held the dead child closer.

“Becoming the greatest swordsman in the world didn’t mean much after I died,” Kuina whispered. “I just wanted Zoro to be okay.”

“You gave him something to live for.” Sanji finished, and she nodded.

“Do you think that makes me a bad person?” Kuina asked. “Perona says she’ll help me move on whenever I want. But I… I want to stay with him. I want to watch him live.”

She was so cold. He was so cold. “No,” Sanji said. “No, I don’t think it does.”

He could barely feel her, now. Only the lingering ice. He held on tighter.

“Thank you,” Kuina said. “For listening. For taking care of him. But you need to go, now, or you might not wake up.”

Everything went white. “Will I talk to you again?”

The last thing he saw was her smile.

“We’ll see.”

Chapter Text

He was so cold. Freezing, even. Maybe a little stupid for hanging on so long; Sanji couldn’t bring himself to regret it, Kuina’s tired grin still stamped to the back of his eyelids.

It was always too warm when he woke next to the brothers, Sabo and Ace releasing waves of passive heat even in slumber. Now, it felt more like the Germa dungeons after winter’s first snow, when spilt blood froze and drinking water had to be thawed under his tongue. Were it not for Luffy’s loud and heavy snores and the sight of Sabo’s back slowly rising and falling with breath, he might’ve panicked.

Sanji was also never given such heavy blankets, drawn carefully over his shoulders by another. Sabo, probably.

Cold air puffed against Sanji’s hands when he breathed out, ice on his lashes encroaching his field of vision. Attempting to flex his stiff fingers did little to ease the disturbing sensation of numbness.

A warm, fuzzy nose pressed against his cheek, Chuji’s whiskers twitching with concern and tickling against frozen skin. The little creature scratched at his chin, squeaks of warning too quiet to be heard over Luffy’s incessant snores. It was sweet that he tried, Sanji thought.

His teeth clattered with a violent shiver that coursed mercilessly through his body, locking up his limbs in a meager attempt to heat his body. He’d been colder than this before. Reiju tried her best to sneak hot stones in her satchel, but she wasn’t always able to risk it.

Though, he’d never experienced the magical freezing effects of holding too tight to a dead girl in a dream. Might want to wake up a fire user for that one. Once he gathered up enough strength to call out beyond a winded whisper, barely louder than Chuji’s tiny sounds. On second thought, maybe getting help wasn’t such a bad idea.

He never thought he’d be happy to hear familiar clomping footsteps come rapidly approaching.

The door burst open with a sudden bang, and Sanji could barely crane his neck to watch. Zoro, to his credit, hardly blinked at the twin fireballs wielded dangerously close to his face by the room’s startled inhabitants, singing the doorframe behind him.

Wado flashed brightly at his hip, accompanied by a chime. It, no she sounded concerned. A little exasperated, maybe. Sanji could almost see the silhouette of a girl at Zoro’s side, hands on her hips as she ranted in bell-tones.

“Oh, hey, Zoro!” Sanji heard Luffy chirp sleepily, followed by the rubbery schleck of his body stretching. “What’s up?”

“Cook froze. Bad dreams.” Zoro said simply, then turned heel and left. Wado’s peals rose in both pitch and volume as he retreated.

Sanji wished his body would stop shivering pathetically when three heads snapped around to face him, all with varying degrees of shock and confusion.

Sabo reached him first, recoiling when his hands touched Sanji’s shoulder. “He’s freezing. What the hell happened?”

“N-no sh-shit.” Sanji managed airily, allowing himself to be pulled up like a ragdoll against Sabo’s front. His back burned, the contact briefly unbearable before settling into a gentle, constant heat that slowly seeped through to his chest.

“Did Sanji meet Kuina?” Luffy asked simply, kneeling by Sanji’s side and wrapping his arms around the other’s shoulders, Chuji gratefully scrambling to a warmer host. Above their heads, the moon rapidly descended from the makeshift sky-ceiling, the sun rising in its place. Its rays settled over Sanji’s face. “Kuina acts like she should be warm, but she’s cold.”

Sanji nodded shakily, resting his head against Sabo’s shoulder. Despite the sleep, he only felt exhaustion pulling at his gut, fueled further by the heat at his back.

“Who the hell is Kuina?” Ace barked out as he shoved Luffy aside to grab Sanji’s hands, rubbing vigorously at fingers that turned his blood to pins and needles. He frowned. “Try to take deeper breaths, Cook.”

His head did feel exceedingly airy.

Luffy didn’t get up from where he landed, sprawling out on Sanji’s pillows. “Kuina is Zoro’s friend. She’s dead, but cool!”

“Maybe too cool,” Sabo muttered, and Luffy giggled at the play on words. Yellow flames burst forth from his palms, hovering close to Sanji’s skin. “His magic’s depleted again. I’ve never seen Zoro’s sword talk before; I’m guessing that’s connected?”

Sanji nodded.

Ace blew hot air into his palms, accompanied by a heavy flow of mana that seeped through his skin and flowed through his blood like hot lava. “You’ll be fine. Just let yourself wake up next time; not even the strongest of Fae are able to hang out with the dead without suffering ill effects. Zoro’s sister is the only one who can, really.”

At Sanji’s questioning look, he glanced away. “We’ve… had some experience in meeting ghosts. Don’t worry about it.”

Don’t worry about it, he said. Sanji was getting a bit tired of that phrase, even if it was one he himself tended to rely on more often than not.

“Though,” Ace said loudly. “It would’ve been nice if someone let us know that there’s an active spirit attached to Zoro’s soul.”

Luffy whistled sheepishly, arms crossing behind his head.

A thought suddenly occurred, sending him shooting up despite the way Sabo scrabbled to pull him down again.

“My mom,” he gasped. “My mom, do you think I could talk to her?”

His breath quickened, cold clouds pluming from his lips as his heart pounded in his chest. If he could see her, touch her, even just hear her voice again. He didn’t know what he would say, but the words would come. He’d tell her he loved her, certainly. He’d share wild stories about Luffy and his brothers, tell her how the old palace chef had taken care of him. How he was loved.

The thought of asking her what he was never even occurred to him.

“I don’t know,” Ace said bluntly, and Sanji’s heart sank. “Usually, spirits have to have some sort of tether or unfulfilled promise to the Fae realm to linger in the living realm. It can be dangerous to go looking. And the spirits who are still here… they’re usually not happy.”

Kuina had lingered due to her promise with Zoro. Luffy and his brothers had assumed he was trapped and sufferingafter swearing to return back to them. What had his mother promised?

“I will always love you, Sanji. My son.”

She had never broken that promise, he knew. She never would.

Sanji slumped back against Sabo’s front. It was a good thing if she’d moved on, Ace meant. She was happy, now. Free.

“Doesn’t mean we won’t look,” Ace said gently, massaging the feeling back into Sanji’s fingers. “Perona would be the one you want. She has a soft spot for Zoro’s friends.”

“I like her,” Luffy announced to the ceiling. “She’s weird.”

Tuning out from the conversation going on over his head, Sanji’s eyelids fell to half mast. His body was slowly suffused with warmth and magic alike, the two so closely intertwined that they were indistinguishable with the pulse of blood under his skin

Just once, he’d like to go a few days without facing some kind of Fae-fueled disaster. By now, he should’ve collected enough random boons to face off against powerful enemies. Luffy’s magic in his cooking, his connection with the forest, the sea. Though Ace wouldn’t give Sanji his flames until the other could control his magical output without depleting himself, he was usually saturated with enough of Sabo and Ace’s mana combined to light a small flame.

“Even if you carry far more blessings than the average human, if that is indeed what you are,” Robin had explained gently when he complained about his slow progress over a cup of tea. “The powers of an average faerie do not fall into single categories either. Your magical potential is only at the beginning of its journey.”

“So,” he announced. “Before I die in some unknown gruesome way, what else do I need to know about this life debt?”

Sabo scratched his cheek, the burn scar reddening under his nails. “It’s… complicated. Deeply personal to the ones involved. There’s always the sharing of dreams, often magic, sometimes even thoughts.”

Oh, joy.

“But no matter what,” he continued, “After the bond has fully settled, the one who owes the debt will feel the need to protect the other. Primarily because their life is at stake. If you die, Zoro dies with you.”

Sanji startled, prying himself from Sabo’s grip to give him an incredulous expression. “What?”

“It’s why Faeries are infamous for backstabbing or general distrust,” Sabo shrugged, like he was discussing the weather. “If someone saves your life, it’s not uncommon to immediately kill them before the debt settles in.”

He blinked once, twice. Probably resembled an owl, if he was honest. “That’s… barbaric.”

Would Zoro have killed him, had he been given the chance?

The thought curdled in his stomach like sour milk. Fermented like a sourdough starter, maybe. Sanji could practically see the way Luffy always hung off the mosshead’s shoulders with blinding joy, the way Zoro had delicately handled a mouse and kept a promise to make a dead girl happy.

No, he decided, refused to entertain the idea. Zoro was a brute, but he was kind. Luffy loved him, and his brothers seemed to trust in Luffy’s right wing well enough.

Though, Ace and Sabo had never left him unattended after he passed out on the battlefield, did they?

“Luffy is the only Fae alive that recklessly forms life debts wherever he goes,” Ace said sourly, and said boy beamed. “Thankfully, cooking him a feast seems to break the bond with how much he has to eat, otherwise he’d be connected to half the realm.”

Sanji couldn’t help but snort. “You sure that’s not just his excuse for free food and a party?”

The brothers snickered. He felt strange, calling them that. No longer just Luffy’s brothers, but the brothers. It was like a title, still unclaimed but open for the taking.

Someday, would he refer to them as his brothers?

Despite the magic thrumming through his veins under the brothers’ careful ministrations, sleep continued to pull down at him with a lingering chill and the gentle ache of yellowing bruises from Zoro’s latest training session.

Sabo’s fingers snaked up to his neck for the millionth time, and Sanji’s hand came up to still them against his pulsepoint.

“I’m fine,” he murmured sleepily. “Stop worrying so much.”

The snort Sabo let out was tinged with just a touch of hysteria. “Stop worrying? Should we go over the extensive list of near-death experiences you’ve had lately?”

Sanji’s eyes cracked open to give him a sour look. “Is it any longer than Luffy’s?”

“He’s got a point there.” Ace muttered, receiving a smack on the arm.

“Just once,” Sabo lamented, unconsciously soothing down Sanji’s hair with his free hand. “I’d like even one of my brothers to have an inkling of self-preservation.”

Closing his eyes to the sound of snickers, Sanji let go of the tether holding him to the waking realm, grip on Sabo’s fingers going slack. He could hear his heartbeat in his ear as he fell, rushing through his head with the blinding chime of magic. It sounded like Kuina.

The warmth at his back grew cooler, but no less comforting. His cheek still rose and fell with another’s breath, but they were weaker, raspy and rattling. Yet, when he tried to raise his head, to ease the pressure of his weight from this person’s chest, a bony arm pulled him closer.

“Go back to sleep, baby,” his mother whispered, dry fingertips tracing adoringly along his swirled brow. “We have time.”

Once, the maid had suggested that little Sanji stop sneaking into his mother’s bed at night, citing that she needed her rest and that Sanji was too old and too big for such things anyway. His mom had shot the woman a scathing look, more venomous than Sanji had ever seen her.

“You make me so, so happy, darling,” she’d crooned in the face of Sanji’s blubbering tears. “Your presence makes me stronger.”

“Mama?” Sanji whispered, then cringed at how high the voice came out, squeaky and little like Chuji.

She pet at his hair, and Sanji could swear that he felt the gentle pressure against his scalp in more than a dream. “Yes, my heart?”

He knew he was sleeping, the kind of awareness that was rare for him in the realm of his own dreams. But even with the knowledge that Zoro could very well be watching, Sanji couldn’t help but burrow his face into his mother’s jutting collarbone. “I love you, mama.”

Laughter didn’t sound like bells, not like the stories described. Even if they did, his mother’s laughter wasn’t a delicate, soft little thing. No, it was boisterous, loud and bright. It sounded more like a geese’s honk than a fairy chime.

It was the most beautiful thing he’d ever heard. Sanji had almost forgotten what it sounded like. It cut through the bitter smell of antiseptic, the faint woodsy aroma of the iris flowers Reiju always snuck in.

“They’re poisonous, mother,” she’d announce, almost gleeful. “Especially the bulbs. Do you like them?”

Their mother adored the gifts, morbid as they were. Though, Sanji had come to suspect that it was more about Reiju’s presence, her timid smile as she presented the toxic flowers.

The fingers against his hair stilled.

“Have you grown stronger, yet?” Sora asked suddenly, voice taking on a chill that had never, never been directed towards him in life.

Sanji closed his eyes. He knew how this went, how a lovely dream turned to nightmare in his mother’s deathbed.

“Look at me, boy,” Sora’s voice overlapped with Judge’s, an echo of sunshine drenched in poison. Fingers dug at his chin, bones that tore against his flesh. “You always were the runt of the litter.”

Sanji held onto his mother’s nightgown, the smell of a hospital and deadly flowers.

“Do you remember when you promised to save me?” She said, and Sanji’s breath hitched at the stench of rot. “You said you’d grow strong, and for what?”

Mattress turned to stone, and the light behind Sanji’s eyelids faded. He heard the drop, drop, drop of the rainwater that trickled down from the corner of his cell. Skeletal fingers tore at his face, forced his eyes open.

He clung to a skeleton in his mother’s dress, hollow and dead. Something wriggled in one of the eye sockets. Its yellowed teeth opened in a roar, putrid breath making him nauseous.

“Why didn’t you save me?” It howled, sharpened fingers trailing down to dig into the cuts and bruises on his sides, courtesy of heartless brothers. “Why did you let me die?”

The first time he’d had this dream, Sanji had screamed himself awake. Heaved and cried until a guard had to open his helmet in fear he’d drown in his own sick. That was in the early days, when someone still patrolled his section of the dungeon, when meals were still semi-regular and water was freely given.

Now, he only wrapped his arms around his dead mother’s shoulders, and begged her for forgiveness as she screamed and blood flowed from his wounds, threatening to drown them both. At least it was warm.

It was nothing new, until it was.

He heard the chimes first, sweet and melodic. They didn’t belong in this place, dirty and dark and rotten. The footsteps that came with them were loud and bumbling, and somehow made the dungeons feel less like death.

Sanji only stared as Zoro’s footsteps grew closer, the demonic fae utterly heedless of the blood that soaked through his boots and sloshed about. Brow lowered heavily over a scarlet eye, he said nothing. There were no expressions of sympathy, jeering taunts for the tears on Sanji’s face, not even a general acknowledgement of his presence.

On his shoulder hovered the ghostly form of Kuina, transparent and blurred at the edges. Only she met Sanji’s eyes, her gaze sad. Then she looked at the cell, the skeleton, and her face lit with the same muted fury as the one who wielded her. Her mouth opened, and only a mournful chime echoed through the dungeon.

The winged swordsman waded through a lake of crimson and wrenched the cell door off his hinges. In a single movement, his clawed hand crunched through the skull of his mother, ripping her off Sanji’s mangled body and holding it aloft as it screamed and cried.

“Don’t hurt her.” Sanji gurgled over the blood in his throat, neck jaggedly slashed to ribbons. “She’s my mother.”

Zoro tilted his head to the side, coolly regarding the rotted corpse in his grip like it was harmless bug in the palm of his hand. “Doesn’t look like your mother to me.”

“Why, why did you let me die?” The skeleton screamed. “Why? Why, why, WHY, WHY, WHY WHY WH-”

Her wail was cut off by a horrifying crunch as Zoro’s fist tightened, shattering her skull into mere splinters. Sanji only heard ringing in his ears, the infernal constant drip-drop of the rainwater above.

He felt numb. Cold. The hair that clung to her skull was like spun gold even when matted, bloody and rotten.

Then came the rage. He knew better, of course. Understood that this was a dream, not a good one. His mother would never hurt him. Would never dream of ripping through her son’s flesh, digging through sinewy muscle to soft organs below until they both drowned in his own blood.

All he could recall were her screams and the sudden silence that followed.

Crunch.

Sanji hurled what remained of his body at Zoro with a snarl. His legs, hanging on by mere sinew, couldn’t muster a kick, but he still had teeth. He wanted it to hurt, wanted to rip through the jugular and let his mother’s killer bleed with him, even if it was just a dream.

Zoro’s hand caught his head in his palm, claws digging into Sanji’s temples as he growled and screamed, spitting in the other’s face with bloody phlegm. The pressure increased until Sanji felt his skull creak with the pressure.

He was prey once again, caught between the crushing jaws of a wolf. What remained of his hands scratched ruthlessly at Zoro’s wrists, gouging out bloody scores that matched his own. His head felt like a watermelon, crushed between a hammer and concrete and ready to explode in a splatter of sweet red gore.

Why? Why, why, WHY, WHY, WHY WHY WH-

“Cook. Sanji.”

He froze. The hunter’s eyes softened.

“She’s not your mother.”

Gentle hands, chapped lips over his brow. A funny laugh. The smell of poisonous flowers and antiseptic.

Sanji whispered, broken, “I know.”

The hands that set him down in a pool of blood weren’t gentle. They didn’t pet his hair, or fuss over his wounds. But there was a heavy splash as Zoro gracelessly sat at his side, heedless of the blood that flooded over his thighs and continued to rise, pouring endlessly from Sanji’s endless wounds.

He was just… there.

Sanji didn’t look away from what remained of the thing that impersonated his mother, shards of bone. “How are you doing this?” He gasped tiredly, empty hands splashing down at his sides. “I wasn’t able to do anything in yours.”

Zoro only grunted. Magic, probably. Or maybe there was a difference between memories and dreams.

“You should leave, if you can.” The pool was up to his waist, now. “This one always ends in me drowning in my own blood. There’s no stairs, no way out.”

He’d tried before, dragging the skeleton with him. Recurring nightmares were cruel like that.

“Hell of a way to go.”

Despite everything, Sanji snorted. He tasted copper on his teeth. “Yeah?”

Kuina chimed in with something Sanji couldn’t discern. The sharp tones and Zoro’s rolling eye in response gave him an idea.

“’m not leaving, shit-cook.” Zoro’s voice wasn’t gentle, but the wing that wrapped around his shoulders and drew his mutilated body in felt like a blanket, safe and comforting. “Deal with it.”

Sanji’s head collided with Zoro’s shoulder, where he rested his cheek. His lip quivered.

“Ass.” He managed brokenly.

“Whatever you say.”

“You’re not just doing this because of the debt, are you?”

The look Zoro gave was nothing short of annoyed. “I don’t do anything I don’t want to.”

Sanji gave in, more easily than his pride should have allowed. “Okay.”

When the blood rose over their shoulders, Zoro’s arm settled around his side to keep them from drifting apart. Kuina chimed out a melody, a lighthearted song that drowned out the drip-drop-drip of water and the thick sloshing of blood.

They would wake up soon. If the brothers weren’t awake, he’d be able to tuck in close, closer than he’d dare during waking hours. Luffy would drape over him, drool on his shoulder. It was easier to think about that, when Kuina’s singing drowned out the sound and Zoro’s touch dampened the sensation.

He’d died like this before in his nightmares, many times. Thick sludge flooding his nose, trickling into his lungs and slowly suffocating him into nothing when pain blossomed in his chest. He’d always done it alone. It was strangely peaceful, maroon fading to black in the arms of another.

Zoro’s grip never wavered.

Chapter Text

Sanji had intended to seek Zoro out right away in the morning, he really did. Unfortunately, breakfast came first.

Feeding Luffy alone was no small feat, one that required him to be up at dawn before the rest of the crew. Adding the rest of the crew’s appetites made for a monumental task, but it was fulfilling nonetheless.

Luffy’s sky-ceiling was pink and orange over Sanji’s head as he weaseled his way out of a cocoon of blankets. It reminded him of the inner flesh of a grapefruit, tart and sweet. He took a moment to drape a blanket over Luffy’s bare shoulders.

The boy smiled goofily in his sleep as Sanji’s finger traced the faded scar over his cheek. He looked a bit like a content cat, the thought only punctuated by the brief purr that came from Luffy’s throat.

Sanji had always been willing to die for Luffy and the brothers. It was still a strange concept, being asked to live for them instead.

Washing up was a luxurious affair, with heated running water and sweet-smelling bottles of soaps and lotions. Despite being deep within the ship, the bathhouse contained gloriously large windows with colored glass that sent dappled light dancing over the bathwater. The tiled floor remained warm under his feet, thick towels perpetually soft, fluffy, and clean. Even the razor glided effortlessly over his jaw, never biting too deep and leaving only a flawlessly clean shave.

The reflection that met his eyes in the mirror was both strange and familiar. Gone were the gaunt cheeks Chopper had fussed incessantly over, the purple discoloration under his eyes. His hair swooped gently over his eye, bouncy and silky with the oily soaps Nami had foisted upon him, light as cornsilk.

Blue eyes, almost unnervingly so. Delicate features with a hooked nose. Blonde hair, unruly but predictable in its direction. He looked like his mother, only with a smattering of freckles over his nose that spoke of recent hours spent lounging in the sun.

Even the closet in the corner was magicked to display his own set of clothes upon opening. What had once been only a single blue tunic and a pair of pants had somehow expanded into a massive collection of tailored outfits, all delightfully soft and light in every hue imaginable, shades inconceivable to human dyes.

At the bottom lay dozens of pairs of shoes, deceptively thin and comfortable. Being kicked with one was the equivalent of being hit with a steel hammer, and that was without Sanji’s own strength. Even after hours of training, the skin of his feet remained unblemished and painless.

Somehow, he suspected Nami and Usopp were the ones largely responsible for his new wardrobe. Sabo, maybe. Luffy and Ace? Absolutely not.

Sanji waved to whichever poor soul was on watch making his way to the galley. It wasn’t any of the brothers, he knew. He only hoped it wasn’t Zoro, given the fact that he’d spent most of the night in dreamland.

Despite his own protests, he’d been firmly banned from the night watch by Nami, who sternly told him that “cooking for this damn mob is plenty work already”. It felt a bit like preferential treatment, given that cooking was a joy whereas hours on watch couldn’t be enjoyable for any sane person.

He’d earned Nami’s respect on his own merits, but it was clear that she and the rest of the crew still had a soft spot for him. Whether it was because he was human (mostly, at least) or because he was Luffy’s dead brother, Sanji didn’t know.

He navigated the galley with ease by now, the placement of the pots and layout of the spices having become second nature. The meat was put on first, thick sausages and cured fatty meats that sizzled in their own grease and warmed the air. Then came the sweet griddlecakes, the fruit compote that went with it. Sanji hardly even blinked at the strange-colored berries anymore.

Sanji always took a moment to brush his fingers against the scavenged picture of his mom, propped against the collection of cookbooks in various languages Luffy had foisted upon him. Her smile seemed to soften, at least in his mind.

As an afterthought, he put on a small pot of rice, the kind from the human realm. Zoro preferred it plain, served only with dried seaweed. It was his way of saying thanks, since he couldn’t say it out loud. Thanks for crashing his dream. Thanks for dealing with his meltdown over the skeleton of his mother.

Thanks for staying.

Falling into the familiar rhythm, Sanji started brewing a pot of bitter ground beans. Coffee existed in the human realm as well, but it was rare in Germa. Imported from tropical regions, only the most wealthy of lords and ladies could afford to drink the stuff.

Judge had flaunted their stash of coffee beans to visiting nobles and dignitaries. Once, Zeff had let him sneak a sip while the kitchen staff prepared for banquets. He’d promptly spit the bitter liquid out, and the old geezer thumped him solidly on the head.

Now, he was able to truly appreciate the deep depths and tones afforded by the different blends. Some were light and crisp with notes of fruit, while others were dark and earthy. Robin and Nami preferred theirs almost intolerably strong. If Luffy asked for some, Sanji gave him a glass of milk with only a miniscule splash of coffee.

The idea of giving him any more was, put simply, utterly terrifying.

Sanji poured the prepared drink into a clay mug, nestling it into a lined basket with tangerines and sweetcakes before making his way back outside towards Nami’s map room. These days, it was rare to see her emerge except to update the crew on their progress towards the Summer Court with an exhausted expression.

Sure enough, she sat draped over her charts with her fingers stained in ink. Sanji couldn’t hope to understand a lick of what they said, even if Nami had patiently tried to explain how sea maps worked. It didn’t help that he couldn’t read the unfamiliar characters she wrote with.

His neck ached in sympathy as he settled the basket on her desk, out of the way of her precious papers. For a moment, he considered trying to carry her, at least to the little cot in the corner. He settled for slipping a pillow under her cheek, carefully shuffling her maps away from the growing puddle of drool. He didn’t want to startle her.

“Vivi…” she murmured when he lifted her head, nuzzling into his palm. Sanji brushed a tear off her cheek.

His return to the galley was heavy on his heart. He couldn’t do anything more than give her coffee and prepare more of the tangerine tarts she loved. All he could do was wait. That was all any of the crew could do, and he knew it tore them apart.

There was a brief clop of hooves just outside before the door to the galley opened. Usopp was full well capable of walking silently, he knew. The satyr was likely just trying to ensure that he didn’t nearly get skewered by a startled Sanji’s knife again.

“Good morning!” Usopp greeted too-cheerfully, and Sanji promptly crossed him off the list of potential night watch victims. He settled at the counter, already fiddling with a new gadget that Sanji couldn’t begin to fathom the purpose of, smelling of the forest. “Sleep well?”

He’d grown closer to every member of Luffy’s court, of course. But Usopp was… different. Painfully earnest and kind, it was impossible not to quickly grow endeared. Maybe, he saw a bit of himself in the other.

Deadbeat dads with impossible expectations were certainly an unfortunate commonality between them.

Sanji hummed in response, already preparing two mugs of tea. Usopp’s was a special spice blend of his own concoction that left his tongue warm and tingling. “Something like that.”

When there was gossip to be found on the ship, he’d found that Usopp and Nami were usually first on the scene. Robin as well, but she was simply all-seeing. And sure enough, Usopp leaned forward eagerly, dark eyes sparkling. “Oh?”

“Discovered the joys of life debts and dream walking,” Sanji admitted, setting a plate stuffed full of food on the counter. As an afterthought, he neatly plucked the strange item from Usopp’s grasp, setting it aside. Franky and Usopp both had a bad habit of becoming too engrossed in their own work to eat. “Nearly froze myself to death, apparently.”

“Ah,” Usopp nodded sagely, cramming a spoonful of eggs in his mouth before humming in appreciation. “Kuina, right?”

Seemed like the only people not to know about Zoro’s childhood friend were Sanji himself and the brothers, sans Luffy. Sanji’s answering nod was dry.

As he mixed the honey into Usopp’s drink, Sanji tugged at the flow of other in his blood, coaxing it to his fingertips. Strength, he urged it, hands shaking with the effort of keeping the wave of mana that threatened to burst from his palms at bay. Confidence. Warmth.

He hardly even felt the dip in magic as he passed the mug off, sipping contentedly at his own. The leaves of his own preferred blend left a subtle licorice aftertaste, bitter and dark. Zeff would love it.

“Hey, you’re getting good at that!” Usopp said brightly, taking a heavy swig of scalding liquid despite Sanji’s protests. “You’ll be an expert in no time.”

Always encouraging others without a lick of faith in his own abilities, that one.

Usopp leaned forward. “But seriously, how’re you holding up? I won’t rat you out to your brothers, so you can be honest.”

Sanji paused. On one hand, it would be nice not to pretend that he was totally fine with the constant flow of insane experiences. On the other, stronger hand, admitting he was terrified out of his mind seemed like a decidedly weak thing to do.

Weak. Failure.

Usopp’s expression remained open, gentle. Offering, but not pressing. Someone who had only ever wanted to help, who made shoes for a stranger simply because he saw that Sanji was barefoot and fought with his feet.

To hell with it.

Sanji set the fruit compote to simmer and finished off the latest batch of griddlecakes. He’d need to make more, soon. Later. He sat down heavily in the stool adjacent to Usopp’s.

“I,” he said slowly, thumbing the warm mug into his palm. “Am one near-death event away from having a full mental breakdown.”

Usopp raised his cup in a mimicry of a human. He and Chopper loved to be taught human gestures and expressions, even if they only used them correctly half the time. “Welcome to the Sun Court, Cook. Just wait until Luffy decides he wants to topple the monarchy of another nation.”

Sanji let out a sudden bark of laughter, the tension in his shoulders releasing. “Does he really do that so often?”

Usopp’s grin turned slightly manic, and he decided not to push it.

With a wink, Usopp shrugged. “For what it’s worth, you seem to be handling it better than expected. You’re learning in a few weeks what most Fae learn in their first decade of life. Zoro doesn’t hold back anymore when he spars with you; that should count for something, right? I wouldn’t hold up to him in a one-on-one fight, that’s for sure.”

It was a rather polite way of saying he was getting his ass handed to him slightly less. But the last part…

“Sure, you could,” Sanji nudged the other with his elbow. “That walking head of mold would be dead before getting within a hundred yards of you with one of your flaming stars.”

Usopp’s face contorted into a brief grimace, smoothing out into a confused smile. “Yards? Isn’t that what you said humans keep their herbs in behind their houses?”

He waved off the question. “Something like that. But you kick ass.”

Sanji witnessed the very moment Usopp’s face shuttered, vulnerability fading to an easy-going grin that didn’t reach his eyes.

It broke his heart, just a little.

“Sure,” Usopp responded easily. “You know, for how much you say you’re not brothers, you sound an awful lot like Luffy.”

“That’s the worst thing anyone has ever said to me.”

He returned to the stove amidst Usopp’s laughter, preparing more batter and layering more cured meat in the pan. The rendered grease could be used to fry up potatoes, making them rich and crispy.

Unlike other members of the crew, Usopp actually ate a normal portion of food. Sanji had expected him to hurry back to his workshop or garden after finishing a full plate. That’s why, when an arm brushed against his, Sanji jumped out of his skin.

“Oh, oops,” Usopp said sheepishly, picking up a dirtied batter bowl. “Didn’t mean to do that.”

Did he… plan to lick the bowl? Sure, he’d maybe encouraged Chopper to try the last of the cookie dough from when he’d been baking last night, but griddlecake batter wasn’t… it wasn’t good, to say the least.

Usopp turned on the running water in the basin and picked up a scrubbing brush.

Sanji blinked. “What… what are you doing?”

“I know,” Usopp sighed. “Enchanting vines to do this would be so much cooler, but Nami charges gold for breaking a single plate. So, by hand it is.”

“No,” he said slowly. “I mean, why are you washing the dishes? That’s my job.”

Usopp handled the bowl like he did a pot of soil, deftly with delicate fingers. “Because you’re always the last to go to sleep and the first to wake up and never get a moment to yourself where you’re not cooking, cleaning, or training?”

“What?”

“What?” Usopp parroted, thumbing at his nose with a soapy hand. “Nami’s making a chart for dish duty. We used to have to take turns cooking and cleaning, so you’ve already taken a lot off our… pan. Spoon?”

“Plate,” Sanji said absently. “The human phrase uses a plate. But that’s… you don’t need to do that. I have everything under control.”

Worthless. Weak. Can’t do anything on your own.

His kitchen partner hummed, setting the bowl aside to wash his own plate. “We know. But this way, we can keep you company.”

Sanji’s lips were moving before he could think better of it. “I’m not weak.”

Usopp’s hands slowed. Set the plate down, wiped them on his overalls, and took Sanji’s hands in his own. His skin was warmed, calloused.

“Is it so hard,” he said carefully. “To believe that we actually just like you as Sanji? Not for what you can do, not for who your brother is, but for you?”

No. “Of course.”

One liar to another, and they both knew it.

Usopp’s sigh was gentle, and when his hand rose to Sanji’s temple, he didn’t flinch. There was the smell of lavender and rosemary. A gentle weight settled over his head. When Sanji reached up with his fingers, they touched intertwining herbs and flowers.

Sanji had lived his whole life afraid of a crown, but this one didn’t bother him.

“I’ll do what you can’t, and you’ll do what I can’t.” Usopp said sagely. Not a promise, but something just as binding. “So keep believing in me, alright?”

And I’ll keep believing in you.

His mouth was dry; he swallowed. “Alright.”

There was an unholy clatter outside, followed by a, “Is that MEAT?!”

Sanji exchanged a look of utter dread.