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It didn’t happen often, mostly because his life since he’d joined the Strawhats was pretty full; but sometimes memories would resurface in the strangest way. Sanji always tried to keep himself busy, just in case, but he remembered nonetheless.
Once, for example, he was alone in the galley, head bowed over the chopping board while cutting vegetables, quietly humming to himself, when he’d heard a loud metallic noise. It was probably Usopp repairing something out on deck, but it didn’t matter: suddenly, his mouth was full of the taste of metal and tears. He could only see the dark shadows of bars, and feel damp cold. His whole body felt weak with sadness.
“I’m… I'm so sorry!! I’m so sorry for being born a weakling!!”
It lasted only a second, and then he was back in the kitchen, stomach turning at the sensations brought on by the vision. Sanji carefully set his knife down, taking deep, shaky breaths. He pressed the ball of his hands into his eye sockets, burying the memories deep down. He didn’t want them, nor need them.
“Go! Don’t look back… don’t turn back!!”
His sister was right.
At times other, better things would come to light. Anytime he prepared a bento, somewhere in a corner of his mind he could see blonde hair framing a bright smile.
“Mmmmm! This tastes great!”
His nakamas’ joy echoed his mother’s delight for the food he had cooked for her. It hurt, but it also made something warm bloom behind his ribs, so he didn’t push it away.
Today as well, memories found him as he glanced overboard. Sanji knew, of course, that the ocean was full of solitary rocks. He realized the one he saw was not the one he’d been stuck on so long ago. They all looked about the same from afar, but he was somehow convinced that he’d be able to recognize it. This was not it; still he could feel once again the terrible cramps of hunger, the even worse numbness that followed. How vast and blue looked the sea, and how utterly empty it was. He could feel the cruel survival instinct overtaking him, as he decided to kill Zeff to steal his food. The searing desperation that coursed through his body as he realized there was no food, no food, just the damn treasure, how had Zeff survived, what had he done--
Sanji couldn’t comprehend how that living skeleton, nothing more than skin stretched over bones, could tell him he had saved him because they shared the same dream.
“All Blue exists. When the right time comes, go to the Grand Line and find it.”
He had been acknowledged, not as a useless family member or kitchen boy, but as an individual with dignity, someone who was worthy of being saved. It had been the first time in his life, and probably the scariest thing that had ever happened to him, but he still had held on to it; he couldn’t give up now that somebody cared. Sanji hadn’t realized until much later, at the Baratie; but on that rock, starving to death with a former pirate under the merciless sun, that had been the first time it had felt like home.
The cook was stirred from his reflection by Chopper and Usopp’s cries. He realized he had stopped in the middle of doing laundry, and cursed under his breath. He set down the laundry basket and made is way to the railing just as a tan hand grasped it, soon followed by a green head; Zoro flung Luffy on the deck unceremoniously, and stood there, dripping water, naked safe for his trousers. Sanji swallowed, feeling unexplicably hotter. He was used to Zoro in this state of undress, so what was this reaction?
But it was a good day for flashbacks, it seemed, because he was reminded of the time these idiots had arrived at the floating restaurant; in particular, this one idiot standing in front of him, like he'd done in front of Dracule Mihawk, accepting death with a cocky grin. Sanji hadn’t understood him at all.
“It’s simple… just throw away that ambition!”
He had realized how stupid he’d been when he had seen the blind faith on his soon-to-be captain’s face. Luffy didn’t hope to become the Pirate King: he was sure he would. They both had made Sanji understand that he had been relying on the safety of the Baratie for too long now, and that he had almost forgotten his dream, the one thing that had kept him alive. These idiots had given him his courage back, even if he didn’t like to admit it.
Sanji startled; he'd been out of it again. Meanwhile, Zoro was staring at him with a strange, wary expression. Like he was looking for something. A sign of weakness, maybe? Sanji frowned. Zoro’s face relaxed in the usual expression.
“You really are useless, shit-cook.” He taunted.
Sanji was relieved. This, he could do. He left his memories behind, with his strange response to a soaked Zoro, and dove right into the argument.
“What did you just say, you mosshead?”