Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

Sanji was fifteen when Zeff suggested working at Camp Mugiwara for the summer. He’d said it was so Sanji could get experience in different types of culinary professions. 

“Some fresh air will be good for ya, Eggplant!” 

Sanji thinks he was fifteen and Zeff wanted him out of his goddamn kitchen for a few months. 

Vinsmoke Judge (Sanji’s biological and legal father) hadn’t given a shit, like usual. The bastard was already ignoring the fact that he spent most of his free time at the Baratie in favor of them both enjoying interacting with each other as minimally as possible. 

So when Sanji had suggested the opportunity to Judge; the man (an annual winner of the Asshole-Father-of-the-Year award) had simply asked how soon he would be leaving. 

Sanji had informed Zeff he was up for the challenge and was handed a sticky note pulled from the chef’s bulletin board titled “ That red-haired son of a bitch. ”  

 His ‘application’ for the position was rather contrite. 

A chipper voice picked up in two rings. 

“You’ve reached Camp Mugiwara!”

“Hello, uh Sir, my name is Sanji… Zeff said you were looking for a cook?” 

“Hey Sanji! Have you ever wanted to be a pirate?”

• ─────⋅ᨒ↟⋅─────•

• ─────⋅ᨒ↟⋅─────•

The bonfire stands tall into the night, embers fluttering like fairies toward the stars. Luffy’s smile glows bright as he recounts his tale. 

“Years ago… Long before any of you were ever born… The pirate Gol D. Roger conquered the land where Grand Line City stands now.” 

“From his plunder he and his crew got The One Piece ! The greatest treasure in the world!” 

Sanji smiles as Oohs and aws pepper the air. 

“Eventually, Gol D. Roger was captured! But his treasure, The One Piece , was never found.” Luffy pauses while Usopp surreptitiously tosses a handful of sugar into the fire to make it sparkle. A couple of kids shriek in excitement. 

“Until now!” Luffy exclaims with a raised fist, “legend tells that it's somewhere here , at Camp Mugiwara!” His voice continues to raise, beaming as he points outward to the crowd, “Straw Hats! Will you help us find it?!” 

A chorus of piercing voices returns, thrilled but hesitant. Sanji resists a snicker as Zoro and Franky’s whooping joins in to egg the kids on. 

The squirts were always nervous to play along on the first night. 

“Straw Hats!” Luffy points again, louder, “Will you help us find The One Piece!?” 

Finally, the returned shouts are uproarious. 

The atmosphere of the campfire burns vibrantly as the magic of Camp Mugiwara fans its embers once again. It was probably Sanji’s favorite part of each camp session. 

It was the same fantastical story that Sanji had been dragged along to hear Shanks tell during his first summer. 

But it wasn’t the story itself that gave Camp Mugiwara its magic. 

The story was just the first spell cast. 

“MU-GI-WA-RA! MU-GI-WA-RA!”

The bonfire bursts in a spark of green embers, courtesy of Usopp’s ‘magic dust’ (Sanji’s pretty sure it's his missing alum for baking). The kids screech and cheer from the multipurpose spectacle. Luffy never had any trouble hyping the kids up, but he was crap at keeping track of time. Following the visual reminder, Luffy leads into the next scheduled portion with fresh excitement in the air. 

Each of the counselors took a turn to introduce themselves and what activities they headed. The kids always paid close, anxious attention to this part to hear who they’d most likely be spending the most time with. 

Camp Mugiwara sorted all the campers between seven cabins. The cabin rosters were determined ahead of time by the kids' interests in the offered camp activities, which they’d submit with their attendance application in order of preference. 

Then, in May when Sanji and his fellow counselors showed up for the summer, they would hash out the best placements for each kid. 

Sanji gleefully took any kids interested in cooking; filling the rest in with as many swimmers as he could fit in his numbers. 

Nami’s cabins were always full of map readers and star gazers. 

Zoro took most of the swimmers since he was one of the camp's head lifeguards (Sanji and Jimbei being the other two). He was banned from taking any campers interested in trail navigation. 

Robin selected those wishing to learn, be it the environment or its history. 

Franky took the builders and crafters. Anyone that wanted to get their hands on stuff.

Usopp collected creatives; the artists and storytellers.

Lastly, Luffy took anyone and everyone. The only consideration they took for his campers was to try to give him the newbies. Luffy’s camper schedule was chaotic at best, which ensured their new campers got a little bit of everything the camp had to offer. 

As the fire winds down, Nami directs the campers to their newly designated counselor. 

Sanji beams at his collection of kids. Their first session this summer is a younger lot, mostly eight to ten years in age. The majority of them had been interested in campfire cooking, with a handful of more creatively-inclined swimmers. He’s hopeful it will be a good mix to start the season. 

“Let’s head to the cabins,” Sanji declares with a clap of his hands, “it’s getting late and you all need time to unpack before bed.” 

He corralls the gaggle of campers away from the campfire and towards the narrow paved road that would take them to the cabins. According to the usual plans, Jimbei and Brook would have already finished dropping off the campers luggage at their assigned cabins while the bonfire was going. 

Sanji is counting heads for the third time on their walk when he hears an exuberant voice asking, “Why is your hair green!?” 

The blond turns to find the source of the voice with a shit-eating grin. Also immediately catching the exasperated face of his coworker down the road behind them, surrounded by his own noisy campers. Zoro and Sanji’s campers were housed in cabins next to each other, so it wasn’t surprising that he’d run into the Mosshead and his charges on the way. 

And it was honestly, totally worth it when he got to hear ten year olds rile Zoro up. 

The blonde unclips his walkie and pulls it up to the main channel, pressing down the button and holding it for a moment. 

Hearing the radio static coming from Zoro’s direction, Sanji smirks and says, “it’s grass!” 

In reply; there were multiple, excited gasps as well as a gruff, “no it’s not!” muted by the distance. 

Sanji allows himself to bask in tight lines of annoyance in Zoro’s face as he pauses to let the other group catch up. 

Initially, Sanji and Zoro didn’t get along well. 

Looking back on it now, small-dog-syndrome was probably an apt description of fifteen year old Sanji’s attitude at the time. 

The blond had been a petulant brat with the figure of a twig. He’d spent the first ten years of his life making himself as small and unnoticeable as possible, and then the next five living underfoot the cooks at the Baratie every chance he got. 

Reformed criminal line cooks probably weren’t the ideal role models for a tween, but it was better than the militaristic situation he had at home. 

So, of course, Sanji had stepped out of his grimy city comfort zone with all the emotional maturity of a bitter pomeranian and met Roronoa Zoro. 

Zoro, at the tender age of fifteen himself, was everything Sanji’s father wanted Sanji to be. Strong, confident, and loyal to a fault. He reminded Sanji of his brothers and he hated him instantly. The blond went out of his way to challenge and inconvenience the boy. 

But, as it turned out, while Zoro was all those things in technicality, he was also more. 

Zoro was a cocky brute with too many muscles. But unlike Sanji’s brothers, Zoro seemed to consider his heart as one of them and exercised it just as regularly. 

Insults were returned with grins instead of sneers. Every challenge met with fervor, but never fists. 

Zoro would give as good as he got and then turn around and quietly dote after his campers with a steadfast fealty.

So… villainizing apprehension twisted into furious jealousy which bloomed into a friendship before Sanji could even realize how fast his head had been spinning. 

One day Sanji had been bristling at Zoro’s full existence and the next he’d realized Zoro was probably one of his closest friends. . 

The teasing and banter had never pewtered out, but the sharp bite behind their words had been lost in time. 

“Curly,” Zoro greets as his group catches up to join Sanji’s own. 

“Moss,” Sanji nods, smirking. 

Flashlights bobbed and wander towards the trees as they make their way down the road. 

“Tomorrow we’ll have to declare a crew name at morning announcements,” Sanji explains as he and Zoro lead their campers along the road, “so start thinking about what you’d like to choose!” 

“What kind of name?” A camper speaks up. 

“Something you can all agree on,” Zoro answers, “most cabins pick a theme around what activities they like.” 

The crew name was a two-fold activity. It gave the campers a title to individualize their ambitions for the upcoming days, as well as gave them an ice breaker to get them talking as a group. 

Sanji has to blink when a girl accidentally blinds him with her flashlight as she asks, “like what?” Zoro snickers, asshole. 

Thinking of previously used, popular names, Sanji lists, “like the Silver Fins, the Culinary Kings, or… The Fighting Cooks? ” 

“The Firebugs or the Trail Titans.” Zoro offers, shooting Sanji a look to let him know he’s been caught pushing his agenda again. 

Sanji maturely replies by sticking his tongue out at Zoro. All of the counselors were guilty of trying to sway their campers to always picking their favorite titles. The blond had always had a partial favor to The Fighting Cooks as it reminded him of the Baratie and all their irritable chefs. 

Franky had long standing success of convincing most of his cabins to agree to “The Cyborgs” and no one could figure out how he was managing it at a pirate themed camp. 

The rest of the walk ended up being filled with chatter between the campers of ideas on what their crew names would be. The kids comparing and debating on what name was the best . 

“What are you guys doing tomorrow?” Zoro asks Sanji, the campers now entirely distracted with their discussion. 

“I think we’ll start at the pool,” the blond hums, “I imagine you will too?” 

Zoro nods his assent with a grin, “got a bunch of pool rats in this lot.” 

Sanji turns to check on the kids, “it seems like they’re getting along fine all together, we might end up with a shared lot this session.” 

“Can’t wait to see you turn into a lobster in real time,” Zoro snickers. 

“Ha-ha,” Sanji mocks back with a roll of his eyes, “I’m going to drop-kick you into the pool tomorrow.” 

“Try me, Curls.” 

• ─────⋅ᨒ↟⋅─────•

Announcements were held each morning in the center of camp, directly before the cabins would filter to the mess hall for breakfast. 

“Goooooooood Morning Mugiwara!” Luffy grins, walking around the central field as the campers are led to surround him in a rough estimate of a circle. Each cabin clustered near their assigned counselor. 

“Today marks the beginning of our search! The search for The One Piece !” Luffy throws his fist up and the campers cheer. 

“During your activities around the camp and as you explore you may find some of Captain Roger’s gold! Win it or find it for your cabin. Your Crew! At our last campfire, the crew with the most gold will be awarded the title King of the Pirates, taking over the title from Gol D. Roger himself!” 

More cheers, whoops, and hollers echo across the valley. 

“Now! Each of you have chosen a name for your crew and it’s time to announce it!” Luffy swivels and lands with a finger on Zoro, “Who be you?” 

Zoro thumps his chest and declares, “The Green Warriors.” His voice is strong and even but Sanji can see the taut muscles of his shoulders.

The blond has to cover a laugh as a cough. He can’t help it. Zoro is embarrassed by them pulling Sanji’s favorite tease into their name and the poor kids don’t even know how much pain it's causing the Moss. They probably think his hair is cool. 

He can’t wait to tease him later. 

“The Weather Gals!” Nami announces, a gaggle of pre-teen girls beaming behind her. 

“The Critter Brigade!” Usopp shouts. 

Then, Luffy’s finger turns to point at him. Sanji steps forward and proudly proclaims, “The Ocean’s Finest!” Which was a new one that Sanji had liked instantly. He’s already planning to suggest it to future cabins. 

“The Planet Pioneers,” Robin introduces. 

Lastly, Frank flexes as he yells, “The Dynamic Designers!” 

Ah, he hadn’t won over the kids this round with his robotic tricks. Naturally, everyone will tease him about it later. 

Luffy leads them all onward in the first day spiel by explaining how meal rush worked and reminds them of the main camp rules before he releases them all to their day. 

However, Luffy had missed a rule. 

Sanji is already turning on his campers to remind them. He’d told them at least three separate times at this point.  

“Does anyone remember rule one and one half?” He quizzes. 

A bright girl perks up to answer, “counselor Zoro can’t go into the forest!” 

Sanji claps, “very good! To be accurate.” He holds a finger up, “the rule is ‘Do not let Zoro wander into the forest alone! ” 

One of the campers immediately shoots his hand up in the air, “why? You never said.” 

“Good question,” Sanji smiles, continuing with his usual rehearsed spiel, “He’s been cursed! If Zoro’s in the woods alone, he’ll be attacked by a hawk with yellow eyes!” 

“Don’t all hawks have yellow eyes?” 

The blond falters, “Uh, maybe? But this one does for sure .” 

The campers look confused, which is fine. All he needs is for them to follow the rule. Thankfully, they seem too anxious for breakfast to let Sanji distract them further and he manages to scoot them along toward the mess hall before they can think of more things to ask. 

They don’t need to know that the hawk is Miwhawk (Zoro’s adoptive father); or that the attack would be a lengthy, dramatic scolding for getting lost again . 

Zoro had complained vehemently when Sanji started telling campers about his weakness with directions. He also hadn’t been necessarily thrilled when Sanji had resolved said concern with a little theatrics. 

Whatever. 

The campers didn’t know he was a directionless moron and they’d get a cool story out of it. 

Win, win, really. Sanji didn’t see what the problem was. 

Sanji would make sure to catch Zoro’s campers after breakfast to give them the story, as he usually did. 

But just in case any of them tried to forget, he’d also scratched it into the Camp Rules posted inside their cabin (and Zoro’s).  

The day dwindles down without too much fanfare. After each of their campers pass the swimming test, Zoro and Sanji let (encourage) their campers to a water volleyball game. It’s familiar and yet the actions feel like a long lost memory. 

After being away from Camp Mugiwara for an entire year, Sanji often found himself anxious on his return each spring. The vast difference between his strict, gray homelife and the vibrant, playful summer turned him skeptical in its distance. 

Surely he’s just mis-remembering- No place is that special. 

Don’t get your hopes up if it’s not like last year. 

Don’t get upset if someone doesn’t remember you. 

Zoro snags him to playfully point out their skin colors; setting the stage in order to compare them for the rest of the summer. Sanji swallows at the touch of Zoro’s arm pressed to his own and the blinding grin on the seventeen year old as he laughs. It’s all warm and tangible. 

It grounds him to the reminder. 

Sanji is exactly where he should be.  

• ─────⋅ᨒ↟⋅─────•

• ─────⋅ᨒ↟⋅─────•

Zoro was a brute. He was a bulk of a boy with an ornery streak fueled distinctly by Luffy’s chaos. 

He was also a bit of a weirdo. But they all were. It’s what made their group so special. 

Robin was particularly brand of morbid. Franky wanted to be a cyborg. Usopp was excellent at putting Sanji’s anxiety-fueled thoughts to shame. Nami saw the world in shades of dollar bill green. Luffy was the personification of chaos. 

And Zoro… Zoro had his sticks. 

Among numerous other things, of course, but that one always stuck out to Sanji the most.

Sanji had been informed at his first questioning of the strange habit that, evidently Zoro’s fancy, weirdo adoptive father Dracule Mihawk had enough money and class to encourage more eclectic interests in childhood. Therefore (and possibly due to Zoro’s lost japanese heritage through his adoption), he’d been trained in Kendo and actual fucking swordsmanship. 

Spoiled and strange as he was, Zoro favored using three swords and had translated that into keeping three lengthy sticks tied to his hip at most times around camp. Each of them whittled near the “handle” in order to slot rope around and keep them secure. 

However, unlike swords, sticks broke. As such, Zoro had a tendency to keep spares around. Sanji guesses that he must have had a good harvest throughout the year because his collection was overflowing. 

A collection, of which could easily turn into some small, spindly insects home.  

Awful. 

Unacceptable, really. 

“You need to slim down your stockpile, Marimo. You’re turning the Merry Cabin into a fire hazard,” Sanji declares one evening, pointing at the collection of sticks nearly spilling out from under Zoro’s cot. 

“No,” Zoro scowls, yanking his boots off one at a time and looking, for all intents and purposes, like he’s seriously considering hucking one at the blond for the mere suggestion. 

“You have a veritable wood pile collecting under your cot!” Sanji declares. 

“What’s it matter? The whole cabin is wood! These are my sticks!” Zoro sneers, his arms crossed defensively, “M’not allowed to bring my swords on the property. I’ve told you! It feels weird to not have them at my hip.” 

“Perish the thought,” the blond rolls his eyes, “can’t imagine how successful bringing weapons into a children’s camp might go.” 

“Usopp wants to build an archery range,” Zoro points out. 

“Leave me out of this, please!” Usopp perks up from his own bed. He’s got a book in his hands but he’s clearly not doing a good job of focusing on it. 

Which, that’s probably Sanji’s fault. Oh well. 

In all honesty (and on pain of death), Zoro’s little stick collection was sort of endearing. In a childish, stubborn kind of way. 

Like a pet that keeps bringing their muddy toys inside. You’re angry about it but it's cute when they’re so damn happy. 

No, wait. Back up.

Focus. 

“Can you move them outside? They’re gonna collect, like, termites or some shit.” Sanji tries, biting it out as if an afterthought. As if it wasn't the actual root of the problem that he did not want to admit. 

Everyone knows Sanji doesn’t do well with bugs. With the same voracity Sanji does not want anyone talking about how much he hates bugs. Or thinking about them, in general, really. 

And shit . Zoro’s face falls into a stupid little frown, just like he was worried about. Sanji doesn’t want pity for his stupid, irrational fears, he’d prefer to shove them in a corner and never admit defeat ever . But Zoro sees right through him and the moron is clearly torn because he probably doesn’t want to make Sanji uncomfortable. 

It’s stupid. It’s endearing. Fucking stupid . 

“If I put them outside they’ll get wet and rot,” Zoro says, like the statement itself is a question or a puzzle. 

Sanji sighs, long and suffering, “what about somewhere else? Like the storage shed?” 

The swordsman wrinkles his nose in distaste.

Suddenly, Luffy rolls on his side and chirps, “bet Franky could make you a rack for ‘em.” 

“A…rack?” Sanji repeats back. 

But Zoro’s eyes are already lighting up in a way that reminds Sanji of that pet at the door, eager to bring those dirty toys onto the carpet. (Sanji has never had a pet. But he’s seen sitcoms and the comparison still seems apt). 

“Yeah, like the one you have in your room for your swords?” Luffy continues. 

Zoro is nodding, a grin spreading across his face as he yanks his walkie from where it’d been clipped to his bedside. It’s past lights out, no one ever cares. “Hey! Franky!” He calls into it. 

“What’s up Zoro-Bro?” 

“Can you make a sword rack? For my sticks?” 

“Aw man! What a slammin’ idea! Course, Bro!” Franky hollers back, “I got some campers this session that would love to help with that.” 

“Thanks Franky!” Zoro beams. 

And it’s settled. Sanji loses the battle in taming Zoro’s eccentricities once more (he really should keep his expectations lower), but he supposes he has still won the war. Zoro’s sticks will be relocated to a new, shiner home, and Sanji will be able to sleep knowing the moron isn’t accumulating insects in their cabin. 

He tries not to linger on the way Zoro seems so thrilled with this new plan or the way it makes him feel warm inside, knowing he was part of bringing that joy. 

Just as long as they don’t set up that rack near the mess hall. 

• ─────⋅ᨒ↟⋅─────•

• ─────⋅ᨒ↟⋅─────•

Usopp, ever the fan of the dramatics, requested they run “walk the plank” early that summer. 

The schedule was always planned out in advance. Prior to the first session of the season, everyone would arrive at the camp early to settle in and unearth the equipment. In the week or so before the first session, they would get started on airing out the cabins, inspecting boats, and restocking supplies. 

In between the activities, skits would be reviewed and planned. 

Which ones did everyone still like? 

What worked well in the past, what needed changed? 

Could they find Sanji’s golden skillet again or had it got thrown in the lake? 

It was a bit like holding court. 

Walk the Plank was a popular skit since it fit well into the pirate theming Camp Mugiwara held. 

It was also popular because it encouraged campers to throw their counselors in the pool. 

Usually they’d run it in the later sessions when the heat index rose, but Sanji hadn’t complained when they threw it on earlier than normal. 

Any skit that pit the counselors in competition was welcome in his book. He’d take any chance he got to beat Zoro at something. 

“What are we using this time?” Franky asks, hand raised politely as he sits next to Sanji on the blond’s bed. Walk the Plank was going to run the next day, so Luffy had gathered the staff in the Merry cabin to go over the plan. 

“A classic, the trusty Devil Fruit!” Nami explains, holding a squishy yellow dodgeball aloft for all to see. Usopp had painted it with bright purple swirls of paint and glued on a “stem” to make it look more ‘official’. Luffy and Usopp give some appropriate Oohs and Awes for good measure. 

“And we’re gonna fight over it?” Zoro grins, smacking a fist into his open palm. 

“No we are not!” Usopp shrieks. 

“Robin’s going to find it and have it with her at morning announcements, but we’ll put it into play after breakfast. So do not take your campers anywhere. Stall or do whatever you need to until everyones done eating,” Nami continues. 

“Then I’ll touch it next!” Franky declares, “and drag someone else over, probably Usopp.” 

Luffy points excitedly at the Devil Fruit, “the important thing is that everyone of us touches it except Chopper or any campers. I’ll make sure to grab it after and play keepaway!” 

“What effect are we going for, again?” Sanji asks, hand held aloft in question. 

“Laziness,” Nami answers. 

“We’ll call it the Slug Slug Fruit,” Usopp adds. 

“And then I come in to save the day!” Chopper cheers, throwing his arms up. 

“Hell yeah you will!” Zoro grins, high fiving the blushing young doctor. 

Franky leans around Sanji and drags a large trash bag to the middle of the room, “We got what we need right here for ya Doc. Brook and I will split up and pile ‘em around the outskirts of the main camp before morning ceremony.” 

“Perfect! Then we’re ready!” Luffy declares happily. 

• ─────⋅ᨒ↟⋅─────•

Sanji watches with a hidden smile as Robin makes a silent show during the morning announcements of holding the Slug Slug Fruit at her hip. She gives coy smiles to her campers and is clearly ignoring any questions about the strange object. 

After breakfast, he’s entertaining his kids with false morning plans when Franky’s booming voice takes over the field. 

“What’s that, pretty girl?” 

“I don’t know, Dear,” Robin answers, holding the fruit out to him, “I found it just this morning.” 

Franky takes it into his hands and makes some inquisitive noises, “hey, Usopp! Come check this out!” 

Sanji cautiously observes as his campers begin to notice the counselors gathering around with the ‘fruit’. It was mid-session for this lot of kids and they had learned to recognize a budding activity when one was presented. 

The blond always enjoyed watching the way their eyes light up in recognition, elbows knocking to point out to their friends or peeking a suspicious look at Sanji himself to see how they might get involved. 

Then, Nami and Zoro are coerced into the center of the field and pass around the fruit with shrugs and rolled eyes. 

His turn. 

“I’m gonna go see what the fuss is about over there,” Sanji announces, “hang tight. I’ll be right back!” He tells them. 

He will not be right back, but they already know that. 

The blond strides over the grass and seamlessly joins the impromptu gathering, “what are you all gawking at?” 

Zoro shrugs and shoves the painted dodgeball into his hands, “dunno, look for yourself.” 

Franky, at this point, was continuing the skit and giving out exaggerated yawns and stretches, “Bro, what a good day to lay in the sun, right?” 

“That does sound nice,” Usopp agrees easily. 

“Or maybe read a book in the shade?” Robin muses, her tone wistful. 

“Whatcha got there, Sanji!?” Luffy injects loudly, their final player practically tackling the blond and snatching the fruit from his hands. 

“Who knows,” Sanji shrugs lightly, then turns to Zoro beside him, “ugh, are we supposed to go to the waterfront today?” 

The swordsman gives a petulant grunt, “let’s not. I wanna nap instead.” 

Sanji makes a point to nod and agree, while the other counselors similarly make plans to skive off all activities for the day. 

Finally, now that the devil fruit had reached Luffy; Chopper (who definitely hadn’t been hiding behind the mess hall) walks into the field and gives a loud gasp. 

“Oh no!” Chopper cries, “what are you guys doing with that!?” 

The exclamation has the intended effect and all the surrounding campers are fully pulled into the experience. 

“Does it matter?” Luffy questions, then tilts his head and redirects, “I think I wanna go have a second breakfast.” 

“I knew it!” The doctor huffs, giving a heaving frown and pointing at the dodgeball still in Luffy’s grasp. “That’s the Slug Slug Devil Fruit! It curses anyone who touches it to be lazy and unproductive!” 

It’s adorable. Sanji has to purse his lips to keep from smiling at how bad Chopper is at acting. His tone is pitched with false surprise and his words are structured as if he were reading from a text (which was probably correct. It was very likely Robin had given him a script that he’d memorized). Thankfully, the campers don’t seem to mind. The kids are already exuberantly caught up and waiting for the callout of how they get to join the fun. 

The doctor makes an exaggerated point of digging through his pockets and pulling out a handful of white ping-pong balls, “Everyone! Devil fruit effects are cured by saltwater!” He holds them aloft, in example, “To cure it we’ll need to make some! We’ll need big pieces of salt! Like these! Find them nearby and take them to the pool!” 

Campers immediately start bolting with shrieks and yells. 

Now came the fun part…Getting to ham it up while the kids played along. 

Chopper makes a point to try and gather the counselors and get them heading to the pool, however (and just as planned) they each take off in various directions instead. 

“No thanks, Chopper,” Sanji tells him with a polite smile, “I’m gonna go relax by the mess hall.” 

“Oh, I have just the book I’ve been meaning to catch up on!” Nami gushes, taking her own route to a grove of nearby trees.

Brook joins the campers in collecting piles of the white toys from around the main campus while Chopper and Jimbei head to the pool. 

A few of Sanji’s campers trail after him as he leisurely strolls to the mess hall fire pit and finds a decent bench to lounge on. Mido, Ella, and Seb. 

“Sanji!” Mido fusses, “you need to listen to Chopper!” 

“Yeah!” Ella pouts, “you’re acting weird!” 

“I’m fine!” The blond brushes them off, “doesn’t a lounging day sound great? We keep you all so busy the rest of the time!” 

Seb grabs at his hand and gives a sad little tug, “c’mon. Get up!” 

Sanji gives a great sigh, “no thanks. Why don’t you see what Brook is up to? He seems busy.” 

“Ugh!” Mido gripes, “it’s no use!” 

“Actually, I do wanna see what they’re doing,” Ella admits, a bit quieter. 

Seb laughs, “then let's go!”  

Sanji smiles as the sound of sneakers patter off into the distance and a “Bye, Lazy-butt!” from Mido trails their leave. 

He listens to the shrieks of excitement and hollering of kids calling out to each other as they gather the ping-pong balls. Sanji knew how the activity worked, even if he wasn’t involved in all aspects. 

Chopper, Brooke, and Jimbei would help the campers gather all the “salt” and dump the plastic toys into the pool. Once they had enough, the “saltwater” would be ready for anti-devil fruit by baptism. 

Sanji had put on his swimming trunks that morning with the guise of a waterfront visit. Thankfully, it was a wonderful day for such an event. 

Suddenly, a louder, more exuberant shrieking gave Sanji the hint he’d been listening forn. 

The pool was ready. It wouldn’t be long before his campers would be coming back to get him.

Off in the distance, he could hear a high pitched, “get him!” followed by sticks cracking, leaves rustling, and Luffy cackling. 

The hunt was on. 

It didn’t take more than a few minutes after that for Sanji to hear the footsteps of his campers coming near. 

“Alright! Time to get up!” Mido declares. 

“No thanks!” Sanji cracks an eye open, smirking at the same three campers encroaching on his bench. 

“Um, there’s a party at the pool,” Elle tries, “we want you to come with us!” 

“I’m good.” 

It was always interesting to see how the campers would succeed. Most used good old bribery and lies; but kids were so creative. Of course it was up to the counselors when they gave in, but it was fun to see what they’d try. 

“I heard there’s a famous chef coming to the party?” 

“That so?” Sanji hums, “let me know how that goes.” 

Sometimes they went the direct route as well. Last year Luffy let his campers actually roll him from the main field down the hill to the pool. 

Sanji’s favorite method yet had been when a cabin got Franky to the pool using a wheelbarrow from the craft barn. They’d rolled him right on up to the edge of the deck and sent him in with a big splash. 

The kids took a step back and whispered amongst themselves for a moment. In the distance, Usopp was screaming. 

Then, Seb exclaims (with acting worse than Choppers), “Zoro has your cast iron frying pan! He’s gonna throw it in the pool!” 

Oh, those shitheads. What a dirty move . 

Sanji opens his eyes to glare at Seb. The boy looks appropriately nervous, lips pursed and brow furrowed. 

Commendable then, at least he knows what he’s done. The blond heaves himself upright. 

“Lead the way, Seb.” 

They pass Robin who was delicately being guided by her campers with the promise of iced tea and shaded seating. He hears Franky’s voice booming about contraptions from the edge of the clearing but can’t catch a glimpse yet. Usopp was sitting on the edge of the poolside, soaking wet. Ha! At least he wouldn’t be the first to go. 

“Zoro! Move!” A frustrated voice catches Sanji’s ear as they walk and he halts in order to turn to the noise. 

Zoro was near the pool with his campers, standing firm with his arms crossed in the grass just beside the external fence. His campers appeared to be heaving and shoving at him without an inch of success.

“No,” Zoro states. 

“You have to go!” A camper orders, shoving at the swordsman’s back. He doesn’t budge. 

“Make me.” 

Poor children. They’d never stand a chance like that. 

It also means Sanji will go in the pool before Zoro. 

“Wait,” Sanji stops on his heel and points at the swordsman, catching Seb’s anxiously wide eyes he declares, “I don’t see my frying pan.” 

“Uh, um,” Seb falters and turns to his friends. While the campers attempt to fashion a new excuse, Sanji considers how he might ensure Zoro’s campers succeed before his own. 

His gaze shifts to the pool. 

“Throw them in, guys!” Chopper cheers as the pool surface fills up with floating spheres. 

“What’s this gonna do again?” Sanji overhears one camper ask as he dumps a bucket full of the plastic balls into the water. 

“We’re turning the pool water into salt water!” Chopper exclaims, “once the counselors get in it, they’ll be cured!” 

“Is this enough!?” Another camper shrieks with what sounded like honest concern. 

“It’s perfect!” Chopper beams, his voice reassuring and kind, “and more is fine too if you want!” 

Surveilling the surroundings, Sanji feels a viscous grin build as he spots the ideal answer to his query. 

“-probably hidden, so-” 

“Seb,” Sanji cuts him off with an open palm, “I will forgive you; if you follow these instructions.” 

The boy nods, instantly compliant. A quirk of the finger brings him over and Sanji spills his dastardly plans in a whisper. Seb giggles and nods, taking off toward the pool in a near sprint. 

Perfect . 

Seb calls from the pool to one of Zoro’s campers by name, a waving arm and everything. Within moments, all of Zoro’s campers are scrambling to the poolside with laughter. 

Together, they haul the orange emergency backboard from the lifeguard stand and towards their counselor. Zoro sees this all happening, of course, with a slack-jawed face of apprehension. 

Sanji can’t keep from laughing outright as the kids successfully evade Jimbei’s extremely mild suggestions to return the backboard. The neon orange stretcher is dropped into the grass with a muted thud, lined up directly behind the swordsman. 

“Get him!” The campers all shriek. 

It’s glorious, really. Sanji couldn’t have pictured it better in his dreams. Six children half his height leap onto Zoro’s front. The kids screech in victory as Zoro falls backward onto the stretcher with a great bursting laugh. 

Suddenly, Seb and Mido are tugging on Sanji's shirt and capturing his attention. 

“Sanji-i!” 

“Not yet! I wanna watch it!” The blond whines. 

“You’re gonna wait until the board’s free for us to use?” Elle wonders, her wide, innocent eyes clearly hiding a mind capable of untold evil. 

“Touche,” Sanji concedes, offering his dear (nefarious) camper his arm. He’ll need to watch out for her. 

Elle escorts him with a prim countenance. It is, at least, far more respectable than the way Zoro’s campers are dragging the moron to the pool with heaves and hoes more akin to a rowing competition. 

“Nice job, guys!” Chopper cheers everyone on. 

Unlike certain plant life that was guffawing at the entrance to the pool, Sanji enjoys a leisurely jaunt with his charges to the edge of the water. The blond relishes the fact that he has time to toe off his sandals and remove his shirt like a respectable pool-going adult. His campers waiting patiently to give him a fun little push . 

His heart spikes in panic, however, at the next voice. 

“If I’m going, I’m taking you with me Curly!” 

Sanji only has time to let out a hiccup of a screech before Zoro’s muscled arms are abruptly latching around his waist and he’s pulling them both bodily into the pool with a great splash. 

The water is pleasantly cold and it just makes Zoro’s arms around him feel that much warmer as they sink a good distance under the surface with their combined weight. Another great yank at his waist and Sanji is tugged upward, breaching the surface of the water with a heaving gasp. 

“Ah! Refreshing!” Zoro laughs. 

Cracking an eye open, Sanji feels his chest flutter at Zoro’s face. The swordsman’s green hair wild and dripping in the sunlight while his lips spread wide in a triumphant grin. 

For some reason, the blond feels acutely aware of Zoro’s hand as it lingers on his waist. The stretch of the swordsman’s fingers glaringly tangible against the exposed skin of his stomach. It’s unsettling, thinking about calluses, being conscious of the strong grip holding him close in the water. 

“Feel like yourselves again?” Jimbei laughs from the side of the pool. 

Sanji kicks forward and throws out his arm. Getting a hand on the top of Zoro’s head, the blond pushes with all his weight and dunks the unsuspecting man under the water with a splutter. The hand at his waist retreats and takes all those strange, fluttering feelings with it. 

Good. None of that today, thank you. 

“ Now I do, Jimbei!!’ Sanji announces. Chopper yells something about pool safety nearby but suddenly there’s a vice-grip tugging on Sanji’s ankle and he’s quickly losing depth in the water. 

That motherfucker. It’s on . 

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