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He wakes up at five in the morning and feels exhausted. He gets up, gathers his day clothes, slips off a loose grey shirt for a tight collared one. Pants only held up by the drawstring are exchanged for classy ones that he slides a belt through the loops of. He glances at the matching blazer and tie hanging on a hook near the door, and leaves them. Saving sliding on his shoes for last, he makes his way to the bathroom to start the day.
The mirror feeds him self-loathing. His fingers tangle themselves in his hair, trying to get it to lay right but only messing it up further. He would pin it back, eyeing the small black headband left by Nami, but then everyone would see his face.
Everyone would see his eyebrows.
On good days, he doesn’t have a problem with them. He covers one with his hair and moves on. He doesn’t think too long about it. But today, it’s different. If he put on that headband, did something different than his normal asymmetrical style, his eyebrows would be on show to everyone. To him, it was no different than announcing to the world that he is a Vinsmoke.
Was a Vinsmoke, he corrects himself.
Sanji spent a good ten minutes longer than usual getting ready. Three of them were spent convincing himself not to pick up a razor to just shave the swirl off. It’d be no use to pretend that it was normal, when it’d grow back sooner than later.
The kitchen is where he starts to feel more like himself again. Breakfast should be light and simple, yet filling enough so that Luffy doesn’t have twelve servings. He consults the fridge before he decides on a few dishes.
Sanji takes out a tray of eggs. Gathers a small bag of potatoes. Grabs a cutting board and a knife and a pan and oil. He opens the spice cabinet and chooses the ones he needs. Pulls a variety of vegetables out and gets to work.
He can’t help but think of Zeff. How his seafood breakfast was one of the best things to start the morning with. When he was a kid, waking up to the smell of Zeff’s cooking helped him shake the nightmares. Sanji still remembers the time Zeff taught him about seasonings.
How to add some before.
Eggplant, if you add all your seasonings at the end, how will all the flavors blend? No, no, use the red one.
During.
See the white bottle? Use that one. Get some of the greens from the blue jar too. Stir it in slowly. I said slowly! There you go.
After.
How do you think you even things out? Your dish is too salty. Figure out how to fix it before it gets cold, Eggplant.
Sanji stood in front of the stove. He frowned. Breakfast was done in no time, but his shoulders were heavy. The smell hadn’t helped him shake the nightmares. Thinking of Zeff only reminded him of the guilt in his bones. He was a trained fighter, he should have done better. Even though he would have been using the skills he taught him—using his hands and fighting with swords and guns and brass—Sanji should’ve fought better. Maybe Zeff wouldn’t have been compelled to save him, sparing him the loss of his leg and his crew and his mobility and his fighting technique and—
“Hey cook, is breakfast done yet?”
Sanji was startled out of his thoughts and turned around to see Zoro standing next to the table. The swordsman’s brows were furrowed, as if he was almost concerned. Sanji smiled, no, he was probably just frustrated that breakfast hasn’t been served yet and he was hungry.
“Yeah. Here, set out the plates, Marimo. I’ll start serving when they get here.”
Zoro set the table, getting a mug of something Sanji wouldn’t consider a breakfast drink along the way. The crew trickled in over the course of the next couple minutes. Chopper was next to appear with a smile on his face that relayed his excitement for a tasty meal. Robin came in from the door that led to the deck instead of the girls’ room. (No one knew when she got up. Sanji found her making coffee at four in the morning, but hadn’t seen her since. She secretly found their confusion funny.) Usopp and Luffy came in looking like opposites; Usopp had dark circles under his eyes and was grumbling about how Luffy should only sleep in his own bunk and Luffy was bright as ever, his eyes shining at the sight of food. Nami entered last. With her came the scent of perfume. (It was one of the ones she got from Alabasta. She wore it on days she missed Vivi, although she wouldn’t say it aloud.)
Sanji brought over pans and started serving everyone, giving them the right portions and Luffy thrice as much. He grabbed the plate set out for him and brought it back to its home cabinet, something that didn’t go unnoticed by his crew.
“Aren’t you going to eat with us, Sanji?” Nami’s voice called out to his turned back.
Smile. Use the heart eyes. Raise your voice. Say something quick. Be polite to her, today’s a difficult day for her too. “I already ate while cooking, Nami-swan~! You look so gorgeous this morning I would love to stay at the table with you and talk all morning, but I must go take watch! Is there anything you need, Nami-swan?”
Nami smiles in return. “I’ll call you when I need you.”
Sanji takes his opportunity to leave and escapes to the deck. He takes out his pack of cigarettes, lights and smokes one. He ends up so lost in his numbness he doesn’t even notice when the rest of the crew finishes breakfast, nor when they exchange glances between each other and whisper his name in concern.
He survived breakfast. He has to survive through the rest of the day and doesn’t know how. Cook good meals for them, give them what they want, keep them happy, survive, as long as you keep them happy, everything’s okay and you’re worth something, don’t stop working or else they’ll treat you like Ichiji and Niji and Yonji and father and—
His train of thought stops there because he’s shocked with himself. He hasn’t fallen into those thoughts in a while. Zeff caught onto that old behavior quickly and shut it down just as fast with a you don’t need to please me to survive here, eggplant.
Being so wrapped up in his mental dialogue, wondering why, the crew cares about you, why would you think that?, then do they really?, Sanji doesn’t notice Nami screaming something at Luffy and Chopper running up to him to hide behind his leg.
Chopper. The ship’s reindeer doctor. The very person he should have thought about interacting with on bad days because the little doctor only has to touch him once to know something is wrong.
Sanji is brought back by small hooves tugging on his pants leg and a voice quietly saying his name.
“Sanji…. Sanji… Are you okay? Sanji? Your heart is beating really fast?”
He reaches up. Tugs his hair. There’s no mask, he can talk.
“Yeah…. I’m okay, Chopper…”
The reindeer doesn’t listen to his response and starts to tug him in the direction of his workplace. Sanji allows it for all of ten seconds before they reach the infirmary and he stops in his tracks. He feels cold at the sight of the medical equipment and the straps on the bed (a little voice tells him they are for difficult patients like Luffy and Zoro, not for him), and the smell that all infirmaries had. Chopper tries to get him to move forward.
“Sanji, please! I told you! I need to listen to your heart to see if there’s something wrong!”
Chopper told him that? When?
Another voice cuts in and he doesn’t hear what it says but it’s deep and commanding and reminds him of his voice and his vision blurs and he curls his fingers in his hair and falls to his knees.
There are a group of voices now, all saying something he can’t make out. A hand grabs at his hands buried in his hair and no, they’re gonna put him back in the mask, don’t let go. The person stops when they realize he’s only holding on tighter and he can’t find his breath because he doesn’t know what they were going to do next and he saw something getting closer and closer to his head and please, anything but that-
Instead of metal, he felt straw on the back of his hands. It startled him, so much that little hooves were able to convince his hands out of his hair and into his lap instead.
“Sanji? Can you hear me, Sanji?” Chopper. “What’s going on with him?” Zoro. “I’ll get a glass of water for him.” Robin. A hand keeping the straw hat on his head. Luffy.
“Sanji, can you tell me something you feel?”
His mouth was dry and his tongue felt weird in his mouth, but he spoke anyway. “Straw.”
“That’s good! Can you tell me something you hear?”
“You. Footsteps.” He paused. “Seagulls. The waves.”
“Can you open your eyes, Sanji? And tell me what you see?”
Sanji slowly cracked his eyes open, he hadn’t even realized they had closed, and blinked a few times. Chopper and Luffy sat in front of him. “My friends.”
Chopper gently took Sanji’s hand and pressed his hoof against his wrist. “Your heart rate is returning to normal. Do you need anything?”
“...Some water?” Sanji asked hesitantly.
“Here.” Robin gave him a glass filled three-quarters of the way with water. He gently took it and had a few test sips before he drank it all. Chopper shifted into his Heavy Point and helped Sanji to his feet. Luffy stood up as well, making no movements to take back his hat. Instead, the captain was looking at Sanji with an odd focus. Zoro stood in the doorway. If Sanji looked around the corner, he would be able to spot Usopp and Nami standing anxiously just beyond the door. Luffy took a deep breath, and Sanji found himself unconsciously copying the action.
“Hey Sanji, I’m hungry, can you make me a snack?”
Usopp and Nami shoved themselves into the room. The former spoke up right away. “Oi Luffy, let him calm down more first, I’m sure Chopper needs to give him a check up!” The latter went to straight up yelling. “Control your stomach for once!”
Even Zoro seemed uncertain, scanning the cook with his eyes, trying to spot the injury. Sanji let go of Chopper’s arm and nodded. “Yeah, I’ll make you something Luffy.”
The captain gave a wide grin. “Great!” Ignoring any other protests, he escorted Sanji to the kitchen, closing the door once they were inside.
Being in the kitchen now was a completely different experience than it was in the morning. Sanji ran his hand over the counter. He brought out a cutting board, pulled out a knife, got a pan ready. Even without opening the fridge, he knew what he would make: the first dish Luffy ever saw him make, fried rice. Most of it was made via muscle memory, it was the dish he used to practice over and over and over again at the Baratie until it was no different than the first time Zeff cooked it for him.
“I know Sanji is kind, that’s why Sanji will make me snacks whenever I ask.”
That pesky thought came back; as long as you keep them happy, you’re safe, that’s why.
“Sanji is the kindest person in my crew. Sanji is also incredibly strong. He can fight super powerful people and sea kings and marines and other pirates! Sanji can fight nightmares too, I know he can.”
Sanji turned around, blinking a few times. “How… How did you know I had a nightmare?”
“Sanji cares more about others than himself but the others make up for it by caring about him ten times as much.”
It wasn’t a direct answer, but it gave Sanji the time to realize the things he missed. Robin watched him walk out of the bathroom with a haunted look on his face, Zoro was concerned about him back before breakfast, Nami tried to get him to shake the anxiety creeping on his skin by inviting him to the table, Usopp cleaned up without a word of protest, Chopper clang to his leg instead of someone closer, and Luffy had belief in him the entire time.
He finished up the fried rice, the corners of his eyes feeling damp. After plating it, he set it on the table in front of Luffy, who took a bite right away.
“Mm! It’s good!”
Sanji smiled. He remembered the people who have tried his cooking, who have had that same reaction that fills him with joy; his regular customers at the Baratie, Zeff on special occasions, Gin who was crying with tears of gratitude, (and his mother, even though his cooking was awful).
“You like it, eh?” He felt like a kid again. He could breathe.
“Yes! Sanji, cook for me again!”