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Tama’s mouth wouldn’t stop watering.
She was perched on the counter that ran along the back of the narrow galley, watching as Sanji cooked. She swallowed hard to stop herself from drooling, but couldn’t drag her eyes away from the pan bubbling on the stove, slow-searing something in preparation for lunch, more than half an hour away still.
The smell, sweet and savory all at once, seemed to reach all the way down to her stomach and squeeze, and a little whimper escaped her lips despite her best efforts. Which was stupid, she’d had breakfast only a couple hours ago, she couldn’t be hungry again already-
Sanji glanced back at her at the sound, and a flicker of an expression she couldn’t read crossed his face before he smiled. “You really like hanging out in here, huh?”
“Ah- yeah!” she said, smiling back, just a little shaky. “It’s…” -reassuring, it’s so reassuring, there’s so much food, all the time- “…it smells nice,” she finished lamely, ducking her head. “And… I like watching you cook.”
“Yeah?” Sanji pulled a small pot down from the overhead shelves, filling it with water and tossing a few ingredients in (so much food-) before setting it on an empty burner and starting the heat. “Are you interested in cooking?”
“Um…” Tama said slowly, because- how could she say it wasn’t really the cooking she was interested in but the food, the idea of being able to make food, and eat it, whenever, just because she was hungry- “Kind of?”
Sanji gave her that look she couldn’t read again, then turned back to the stove. “You know,” he said, “I grew up in a kitchen like this one, working in a restaurant. Started when I was just about your age. My old man ran the place.” She could see him smile in profile. “I used to spend hours just watching him cook. Before long he started talking me through what he was doing, and then having me copy him,” he said.
“Your dad?” Tama asked, curious. It was strange, to think of the pirates having once been as young as her. They were all seemed so strong, so old- not small and weak and hungry.
Sanji grinned down at the pan. “Yeah,” he said. “He’s a tough old bastard.”
A timer went off on the stove, and Sanji was all at once in motion again, rearranging pots and grabbing for utensils. Tama watched his back, fascinated- though her main interest in the galley was the food, the smell and the comfort of it, she always admired the smooth effortlessness with which he handled himself when he was cooking, like every move he made was one he’d done a thousand times before.
Without warning, a steaming bowl was pushed into her hands. She blinked blankly down at it- broth, simple and hot and delicious and full of little chunks of vegetables and meat, a spoon resting ready against the lip- then up at Sanji.
“You’re hungry, right?” he said, glancing around from where he was already back to poking at the pan with a spatula. “Eat that.”
Tama flushed, cheeks going hot with shame. She couldn’t believe she’d been so obvious, so ungrateful when she was eating more food now daily than she used to in a month, in a year. “I- n-no, I’m fine, I just had breakfast, I’m not hungry, really-“ she stammered, holding the bowl out and ducking her head to keep from looking at it.
She was so hungry, but-
A gentle hand pushed the bowl back towards her. “Oi, none of that. Rules on this ship are, if you’re hungry, you eat. And don’t try to tell me you’re not.”
Tama hesitated, hands clenching around the small wooden bowl. “But I shouldn’t be,” she said weakly. “I’m eating so much now- every day-“ she trailed off, curling around the bowl slightly and staring down at the floor. “Why’m I still so hungry?”
Sanji was quiet for a moment, then turned a dial down on the stove and turned around fully to look at her. “When your body spends a lot of time very hungry,” he said slowly, leaning back against the stove and folding his arms, “it gets used to not having food. So when you do get food, your body gets scared it won’t last. It starts telling you to eat everything you can while you can, even if you’ve just eaten. It’s not your fault, just something that happens.”
“So…” Tama started, stopped, wet her lips, tried again, “How… how do you… stop it?”
“You eat,” Sanji said firmly, prodding at the bowl still cradled against her chest. “Whenever you’re hungry. Eventually your body learns there’ll always be food there when you do need it. Broth is perfect because it fills you up, but you can eat a lot of it without getting sick. I can teach you how to cook it sometime, but in the meantime, just ask whenever and I’ll whip something up.”
“But… I don’t want to…” Tama stared down at the bowl. It was still letting off faint wisps of steam. “You’re already giving me so much-”
“Listen,” Sanji said, and waited until she hesitantly lifted her head to look at him to say, “I’m the cook on this ship. It’s my job to make sure nobody goes hungry. Including you. So you let me know when you’re hungry, whenever, and let me do my job and feed you. Okay?”
Tama nodded, a little jerkily. The spoon was still waiting patiently in the bowl. She picked it up and scooped up a spoonful of broth, shoving it into her mouth before the shame could freeze her hands.
It was delicious, because of course it was, and in moments she was jerking the bowl up to her mouth and gulping the contents down, spoon clattering forgotten to the counter. All too soon it was empty; Sanji wordlessly took it from her hands, ladeled another serving out of the pot on the stove, and passed it back to her.
She was halfway through her third bowl before she managed to slow down long enough to realize she was crying, fat tears rolling down her cheeks, dripping to the galley floor and splashing into her mostly-empty bowl. She sniffled, embarrassed, and scrubbed at her eyes with her sleeves.
“Good?” Sanji asked, once she’d composed herself enough to look up at him again. He was grinning.
Tama nodded, still wiping at her face. “Uh-huh.” She held the empty bowl out, bowing her head. “Thank you very very much.”
“Anytime. I mean it,” Sanji said, taking the bowl and setting it in the sink.
Tama nodded, sniffling again, because she could tell he did mean it, that she could shake him awake in the middle of the night and he’d still be more than happy to make her something to eat, and that certainty nearly reduced her to tears all over again.
Sanji was rearranging the counter, moving plates and ingredients around. Tama watched, uncomprehending, until he finished clearing a space beside the oven and gestured for her to come over.
“Come on, if you’re gonna watch me cook you’ll get a better view from over here,” he said. “It’s yakisoba for lunch. You can keep an eye on the meat here for me while I get started on the noodles.”
Tama sniffled and wiped at her eyes a final time, then nodded hard and slid off of her perch, padding across the narrow galley to Sanji’s side. He easily picked her up and set her on the counter, giving her a full view of his workspace. There was meat still sizzling in the pan, and a huge pot full of water just beginning to boil on another burner.
“You start with the meat, with yakisoba, because you can do it while you’re waiting for the water to boil for the noodles,” Sanji explained, “and because it doesn’t have to still be hot at the end, but the noodles do. You need a lot of water because it’s a lot of noodles- especially when cooking for this crew- and they get bigger as they boil, so it takes longer.”
Tama nodded along, legs swinging as she watched. The galley was bright with sunlight and warm with the sound and smell of meat sizzling on the stove. Sanji shoveled the noodles into the boiling water by the handful, talking her through how not to break them and how to figure serving size.
For once, she didn’t feel hungry.