Chapter Text
“Captain, I’ve told you this so many times you’ve got to know this by heart,” Sanji said, ruffling a hand through the black, wispy locks of Luffy’s hair. He sat down on the stool with a sigh.
The day was relatively sunny out, with calm winds and Nami on the lookout for potential bad weather, so they’d set up a small hammock between the mikan trees and helped Luffy into it. Sanji was on story duty today, so he had posted up with a small stool and bucket on the lawn as he began to peel carrots for dinner.
Luffy squinted against the bright light of the sun, but the exuberant look of joy on his face did not waver. As though he had been a wilted flower, his demeanor brightened in its rays and filled with the life and energy the Captain of Straw Hats had once been known to have. For a moment, Sanji saw Luffy, nineteen and eager to enter the New World for the very first time. So intent on becoming free.
Though it had been many years since then, Sanji cherished those days the most. When his Captain had stared down the World Government and said, “Try me.” At the time, though their Captain always came back bleeding, bruised, and seriously injured, they had still naively believed their dream would last forever.
Then it ended.
“I don’t care, Sanji,” Luffy pouted brusquely, swaying his hammock gently. Though years ago, he might’ve clung to his cook and squeezed him tight until the man complied, the Straw Hat Captain was content to simply lay his hands behind his head and take in the tranquil peace of the world around him. “Tell me about the reindeer.”
“Hai, Captain,” Sanji said, and told him about a grand snowy place called Drum Kingdom, where, in the steep banks, there was a small blue-nosed reindeer, frightened and alone…
♦♦♦
Finding the One Piece was– well, Sanji would never look at the world quite the same way again. That had always been Luffy’s dream, but one his Captain carried so close to his heart, it was impossible for the crew not to cry tears of relief and joy upon the discovery. They’d done it. Their Captain was Pirate King.
For a brief five years, the crew had gone their separate ways. Sanji found the All Blue, and laid out a memorial for his late father, in honor of their mutual aspirations. He’d cultivated his own life there, knew the locals, cooked for the children and made sure everyone in the small port town nearby went to sleep with a full stomach. It was more than he could have ever asked for. But after fulfilling his dream, the desire he’d carried with him since he was young, Sanji wondered: what now?
He did not have to wonder for long. The comfortable life was not one for a pirate, even for one as sophisticated as Sanji. The night he got the call, Sanji had packed his bags, cooked one final farewell banquet, and left the very next morning. No matter how much he’d loved the All Blue, the Sunny was his home first and foremost. His Captain needed him once more.
The beginning was… difficult, to say the least. It hurt to see his Captain rendered so suddenly weak, when it felt as though only yesterday he had seen him hopping about the Merry and prattling on about a far-off dream with all the exuberance of a shining ray of light. In reality, five years had passed since Sanji had last seen his Captain, and with time came change.
Despite being two years his Captain’s senior, Sanji was doing remarkably better than the former. Chopper and Law had explained it, when they were initially so panicked over his health, that this was an effect of years of abusing his body and constantly pushing himself to his limits. Eventually, he just couldn’t take it anymore. Wounds built up. Bodies broke down. The ocean was blue.
He couldn’t stand for long periods of time. His body wouldn’t let him. His skin no longer held its same elasticity. The Captain often complained of aches and pains with seemingly no one catalyst –instead, a multitude of causes. A buildup, Chopper said. Luffy would never sail another adventure again.
That realization had stung, more than the worst cut of Zoro’s blades. Because the future had always been something grander, something more , something tangible and yet so far away, nobody had seen it as a reality just yet. That Luffy’s body would start to fail. Prematurely, Law said. Because he’d just never stopped pushing it.
Around this time, his Captain began to develop certain habits and mannerisms that struck the crew as strange. Other than Zoro and Nami, everybody had gone on their own sort of adventure over the five years. Things were bound to change. But it got bad when Sanji noticed the strange, pucker-like marks on his arms from too much stretching, and the horrible wheezing breaths he took when activity overexerted his tired body just a little too much.
“Whole Cake Island,” Nami had bit out to him, raving mad. Tears in her eyes, too, as she hugged him close. “Those marks were for you, Sanji. He tried to rip his arms off for you.”
She held his shoulders and glared at him. “Never leave us again.”
Sanji never spoke ill of himself again. How could he? When he was so loved by the people around him. When his Captain was willing to permanently disable himself just to get Sanji back. When he was willing to starve for his sake.
Sanji was no fool. He’d seen the amount of food Luffy consumed on a daily basis, even when the man wasn’t fighting. Long nights had been spent conspiring with Chopper, determining the perfect caloric intake. A fast metabolism was an understatement. In a mere day, Luffy had diminished so greatly. When Sanji closed his eyes he was tormented with the vision of Luffy’s tormented face. His withered body, weak, on his deathbed. Sanji almost didn’t make it. He was almost too late.
Sanji never kicked his Captain again.
Luffy wore his newfound condition with an unusual grace and maturity. His limbs no longer stretched quite as far, and he didn’t always remember things as well as he should’ve. But he remembered where it counted. He still reminded Nami to take a break from her map studies every once in a while, called Zoro in from exercising out on the deck so that the swordsman wouldn’t catch pneumonia out in the cold.
When the Pirate King himself began to wither, it was a graceful thing, in that odd, soft way Luffy had at the heart of him. Stark, opaque bags grew underneath his tired but happy eyes. His dimples began to sag.. His hair, which had always been a stark and contrasting obsidian, peppered with small, silver strands – Chopper said it was natural for men in their twenties to begin developing gray hairs, Sanji wasn’t so sure that was true. But whatever Law, Marco, and Chopper said– one thing was apparent; their Captain was decaying, right before their very eyes.
Decaying wasn’t the right word. That implied Luffy was getting worse , that his illness was winning . But that was the farthest from the truth. Luffy wasn’t dying. He was thriving .
Though six years had passed since their Grand Line escapades, it took Sanji little effort to recall any of it. Their journey to Reverse Mountain, Laboon, Skypiea– they remained fresh, just under the surface, as if they’d happened only days ago. The other Straw Hats echoed the same.
Maybe that’s why it hurt when Luffy took in such information as though it was his first time hearing it, and though he’d not gone through it the same way everyone else had. It stung when Luffy asked who Zeff was, when he forgot Sanji had practically become invincible now – because Luffy had never paid much attention before, but he knew what mattered. And now, he was rediscovering his own life as if he’d never lived it.
Truthfully, Sanji should not be unfamiliar with this particular kind of grief. His mother had been ailing for years before she passed. She’d spent the last eight years of her life bedridden and ailing. Sora had been sick for as long as Sanji could remember. There was not a time in his life where she was not bedridden and sickly pale. His fault, Judge had said. Sanji was the reason she died.
With Luffy, Sanji had seen how full of life his Captain once was. Glimpsed the future with a man well into his forties still rocking the egregious tank top and jean shorts combination. Luffy had so much of his future ahead of him – something Sanji had never seen with Sora. He’d known she would eventually die. But Luffy was supposed to live forever . It made something ugly swell into his chest when he realized that was no longer a possibility.
“Tell me the one about the sky island,” Luffy would say, sitting cross-legged on the grass and clasping his ankles. Rocking back and forth, he would close his eyes – bright, still, though a little hazy around the edges, now – and imagine the world Sanji painted for him.
“You ask me to tell you this every day, Captain,” the cook responded, tying the apron around his waist. He snubbed his cigarette and began to pull out the cutting knives.
“I forgot it,” Luffy admitted sheepishly, scratching the back of his head as if it was his fault. As if his condition was nothing more than simply a blunder on his part. “Tell it to me again!”
Heavily, Sanji would pull out the red onions from the cooler and begin peeling them. The barb of despair and sadness was still there, would never fade, but it… lessened, somehow. Looking at Luffy, who basked in every detail. Still happy. Still himself. It eased the hurt, a little.
Dutifully, he told his Captain every time. Dutifully, he worked the words past his choked tongue, eyes blotted with tears, as he told his Captain things he should remember, things he should’ve never forgotten in the first place. Things Sanji had hoped he wouldn’t forget.
There were, of course, still some things Sanji couldn’t talk about, still. Whole Cake Island was a debacle he never wanted to go through again. Despite its affirmation of his family’s love – his real family – and the utter proclamation of Luffy’s loyalty. There were just some things he wouldn’t be able to verbalize cohesively. Might never be able to.
Sometimes, though, it was almost like Luffy knew. Their Captain remained perceptive as always, seeking with sharp eyes, feeling with hands that weren’t there. His soul had always been quick to cut into their own and see things for what they really were. It was one of the things Sanji admired about him.
His dulled memory made it impossible for most things that happened more than five years ago to be recalled simply. Though his short term fared better, it was still an aching sore when they realized they would never truly have their Pirate King back. Luffy would never be the same again.
“Feed me, Sanji!” Luffy would beg, and Sanji would put up a farce, pretending like the yaki udon he’d just crafted wasn’t made purposefully to fit their Captain’s new diet restrictions.
“No, this is for Nami~swan ,” the cook refused, smiling still. “Ask Chopper if he has any berries for you.”
“But I don’t want that!” Luffy cried, latching onto Sanji’s arm. “I want it to be from you! I won’t eat anything other than what you cook!”
The plate in Sanji’s hands shattered on the floor, his cigarette followed just after. Sanji slowly turned to look at his Captain, who fixated on the fragmented pieces of glass on the deck.
“Captain?” Sanji whispered, abhorred. His stomach fell through the ground as he stared at Luffy’s face, willing him to look into his eyes. Willing him to see Sanji .
“Why’d you drop the plate?” Luffy said carefully, surely he could feel what was wrong. Despite his waning ability to recall what had happened the day before, his innate perception of his crew had never left. The Sunny reeked of his empathy, some days. His Haki carefully felt every nook and cranny of their souls, poking, prodding, ensuring they were okay. It could be overbearing, at times, but it was nice. A reminder, every day, that Sanji was still loved.
Are you alright? it asked, and Sanji felt it like a warm embrace. He felt the love and affection pouring out of his Captain, oozing out, like he just couldn’t hold it in. Luffy’s Haki was messy and broken in odd places, but it never ceased to make Sanji feel like home.
“Captain, do you remember?” Sanji said, gripping Luffy’s shoulders with vice and forcing his Captain to look at his face. His eyes were prickling and warm, unbidden with tears. “Do you remember it?”
“Remember what, Sanji?” Luffy laughed, simply confused, looking Sanji up and down. Concerned. Checking for injuries, maybe.
Sanji released his grasp, unsure of what to do with his hands. Luffy stopped laughing, and Sanji felt his Haki being prodded again. He wanted to fight it, but knew he shouldn’t. Luffy would never let him win that battle. It curled around him like a gentle hug, swept carefully over his own like a heavy blanket. Soft. Reassuring.
It’s okay, it said. I’m here for you.
“It’s not your fault,” Sanji acquiesced, the words bitter and ashen on his tongue. He bent down to pick up his fallen cigarette before it could start scorching the finely polished floor beneath. “It’s not your fault, Luffy.”
“What’s not my fault?” Luffy interrogated, following Sanji to the waste bin like a kicked puppy. The glass on the floor crackled as Luffy trampled over the small pieces, seemingly unaware he was doing so.
“Luffy!” Sanji shouted. It was terrifying how easily he managed to pick up his nearly weightless Captain, who seemed confused but happy with the sudden contact, and maneuver him to sit down at the table as Sanji inspected the cuts.
They were shallow, but the blood was telling. Five years ago, Luffy’s rubber skin had been nearly impenetrable by any household object. There had been a time when he’d accidentally chopped his finger instead of a carrot – with one of Sanji’s sharp and well-maintained steak knives, mind you – and the rubber simply bent. Somewhere between their battle at Wano and becoming Pirate King, Luffy had gained an immunity for almost all sharp objects not imbued with Haki. Sanji had yelled at the man for scaring him so badly , and Luffy bought him a bottle of bubble-blowing solution (with Nami’s money, of course) to make up for it.
Admittedly, it had been Sanji’s fault for even allowing the rubber man into the kitchen, but– well, sue him; even though he’d known it would be a mess, he did it anyway.
This time, however, Luffy had sustained injury. Chopper was busy in his clinic now, researching, and Sanji wasn’t ready to let go of his Luffy duties just yet.
“Sit still,” Sanji seethed between clenched teeth. He hastily marched over to the sink cabinet, ripped out the small first aid kit, a small cup, and stomped back over. He uttered this sentence again as he tweezed small shards out of Luffy’s foot, careful not to incite any further pain – though, guessing from Luffy’s utter lack of reaction to the wound initially, it was probably safe to say there wasn’t any to begin with. A fact that should be comforting, but instead only filled him with worry. Luffy shouldn’t be so immune to this.
They’d started keeping first aid supplies hidden in spots around the ship since before even Chopper joined – something that feels like ages ago, now. Luffy was even more reckless and uncaring of pain before all the scary stuff with the Grand Line. Sanji is glad he’s still retained his minimal treatment knowledge from being the stand-in doctor before the current.
Finished administering adequate first aid, Sanji crouched and began to pick up the small shards of porcelain from the floor with a heavy, weighted sigh. Damn. That had been one of his better plates, too.
“Sanji, tell me what’s wrong,” Luffy demanded, crouching also. Slower than he used to be. Stiffer than he should.
Sanji’s mouth formed a thin line. He dared not meet his Captain’s eyes. Couldn’t bear to look and not see the recognition there.
“It’s nothing,” he lied. Luffy’s Haki alerted it immediately, but rather than press down unbearably, as Luffy does when he really pries, he instead radiates concern. His Captain wants to know why Sanji would lie, even knowing Luffy would find out. “It’s nothing, Luffy. I just thought you had remembered.”
This time, he was forced to meet his Captain’s eyes, which were bright and searching. The russet searched his own ink, piercing. But Sanji would not budge on this. Couldn’t bear to verbalize it again.
The look on his face must have sold it, because Luffy let up after a tense moment. Began gathering the slivers of porcelain still on the deck, gently leaning his shoulder against Sanji’s own.
“I’m sorry,” his Captain said. His face was tight in concentration. “Maybe I’ll remember again some other time.”
I’m here, he said without speaking. I’m here for you.
Sanji breathed a slow sigh, still on edge. His stomach had stopped churning so violently, and it was impossible to stay upset in Luffy’s presence. It was a hidden power of his. He gathered the pieces into his hands and forced his eyes to remain dry.
I’m here, Luffy said. But for how much longer?
“Yeah,” Sanji huffed. “Maybe.”