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Sanji sighed, looking outside at the gathering storm clouds. The skies had been perfect in the morning; he should have known the recent spate of clear weather couldn’t last.
“Did you bring an umbrella, Sanji?” Pudding asked.
“Nah, rode my bike in,” Sanji said, giving his assistant baker what he hoped was a reassuring smile, “I’ll be fine, Pudding, a little water never hurt anybody. Why don’t you head home before it gets worse? I’ll close up.” She nodded, taking off her apron and gathering her belongings as Sanji set about retrieving the leftover pastries in the display.
By the time he locked the door to the Baratie it had already started to drizzle. Resigned to his fate and hoping Zeff had a fire going when he arrived, he hopped on his bike and began speeding back home, squinting as the rain fell heavier and ran down his face in rivulets. He had covered the basket of patisseries with as many towels as he could find and hoped that they at least would make it back unscathed. He had tried out a maple glazed doughnut recipe that he wanted Zeff’s seal of approval on.
“Fuck,” he cursed when he was forced to skid to a stop, his usual path on a branching trail through the woods blocked by a downed tree. A roll of thunder and a crackle of lightning nearby made him jump, and he decided to try the path to the left, hoping it would wrap around eventually.
Ten minutes later, he regretted his decision as the path grew uneven, roots rising from the ground forcing him to walk his bike. The trees here were taller, wider, blocking most of the rain, the sky barely visible through the dark branches above. He finally turned a corner and saw a large house on a hill.
It was still raining heavily. Though… thunderstorms like this rarely lasted long. He would see if the owner of the home would give him shelter at least until the storm passed in exchange for some sweets. Determined, he left his bike propped up against a tree, grabbed his basket, and sprinted up the hill to stand at the doorstep.
He paused before knocking. The door was massive up close, at least 20 feet high. None of the lights were on, the entranceway gloomy and imposing. But another large boom of thunder forced his hand, and he knocked tentatively.
Immediately, the door swung open revealing a dark hallway.
“Hello?” Sanji called through the door, “Is anyone here?” He walked through the threshold, and continued cautiously, “Sorry to impose, I’m just looking for shelter until the storm passes.”
He heard a series of skittering noises and looked wildly around at the shadows.
“Anyone there?” he asked again, the hairs on the back of his neck rising.
Sanji walked further into the house, his eyes slowly adjusting to the dark. He stuck to the puddles of light cast by high windows above and eventually reached a set of double doors, just as large as the entrance. He rapped at the door with his knuckles and waited patiently, before putting his hand to the door and trying to push it open.
“Who are you?” a deep voice rang out from behind him, and Sanji whirled around, heart rising to his throat.
“I’m sorry, it was raining pretty hard and—” He stopped when he realized he was speaking to the thighs of… a man, or what he presumed was a man. His head shot up, neck craning to see the impossibly tall person whose upper body and face were obscured by shadows.
“You’re trespassing,” the man said calmly.
“Ah yes,” Sanji replied, nervous, “I—um, just wanted to get out of the rain for a bit. There was a tree blocking my normal way home. If I could just stay here in the entranceway, I’ll be out of your hair as soon as possible.”
The man said nothing, and Sanji shifted, hoping he could move into the light so Sanji could at least see his face and expression.
“You can stay in the great hall and dry yourself,” he said finally, and Sanji saw movement above him as two huge arms reached forward and pushed the heavy double doors open, revealing a room with a crackling fire. Sanji shivered with relief, his clothes soaked with water and clinging heavy to his frame.
“I expect you to be gone when the rain passes,” the man said, turning to leave.
“Wait,” Sanji called after him, remembering his manners, “I-I’m a baker. I have some pastries, will you have them as thanks?”
The man paused and turned to Sanji who was holding out his basket. Sanji took the towels off and grimaced at the condition of the doughnuts.
“Shit, they’re soaking, I’m sorry, I can come back tomorrow with more—” The basket was plucked away by a huge hand.
“I will take these,” the man said, “In return for shelter.” He stalked away, footsteps silent despite being what seemed like three times Sanji’s size. Sanji watched him disappear down a side door before turning to the great hall, hustling eagerly toward the fireplace and collapsing in front of it.
After the fire helped calm some of his trembling both from cold and adrenaline, his thoughts turned to the man who apparently owned this house. He looked around at the armchair he would need to scale with a ladder to be able to sit in, the huge glass bowl that appeared to be holding enough whisky for a tavern of men, the massive poker for the fireplace that looked like a medieval spear for jousting. He knew theoretically that there were giants in the north lands, but they were hulking ugly beasts who spoke in monosyllables, not just an over-sized otherwise human. Or perhaps the story books and fables were wrong.
He heard a sound and rushed to the door to see his empty basket sitting outside and the tall man walking away.
“How were they?” he asked desperately.
The man paused and said without turning, “Enjoyable. I have never tasted anything quite like them.”
Sanji grinned, “And those were smushed and cold and soaked in rainwater, imagine how they are fresh and hot out of the oven.”
“I assume they are even more enchanting,” he rumbled back and continued walking away.
“Won’t you stay?” Sanji asked, “I don’t mean to kick you out your own room. It looked like you were using it. You won’t even notice me, I’ll just be drying off and then get out of your way.”
The man hesitated, but eventually turned and walked back toward him. As he approached, Sanji wondered if he was making a mistake. The irrational fear component of his brain was telling him to run away from the obvious danger. But, if his host wanted to hurt him, he had had plenty of opportunity to do so already.
“I’m… Sanji, by the way,” he said.
“Katakuri,” the man replied.
“Katakuri, thank you for your hospitality,” Sanji smiled, as Katakuri walked past him.
In the light of the great room, Sanji saw that Katakuri was wearing black leather pants, an open black vest revealing a muscular chest and impressive tattoo, and inexplicably a huge black and white scarf that covered his shoulders and the lower half of his face. He sat down heavily on his armchair, steepling his leather-gloved fingers. In the flickering flame of the fire, his eyes seemed to glow red. Sanji returned to his spot and tugged absentmindedly at his hair, which was beginning to curl as it dried.
He snuck glances at his host, who didn’t move to continue drinking his whisky, staring resolutely at the fire.
“You don’t need to hold back on my account,” Sanji said finally, gesturing at the whisky.
“I’m fine,” Katakuri replied, his eyes flicking to the bowl and then to Sanji.
“Whisky and maple are delicious together,” Sanji continued, “The lingering taste of the doughnuts will go really well with your drink.”
“I thought you said I wouldn’t even notice you,” Katakuri said wryly.
“Ah, I guess I’m a bit of a chatterbox,” Sanji smiled, “Bakers usually are.”
“You do not look like a baker,” Katakuri said.
“Oh?” Sanji giggled, “What do bakers look like in your mind?”
“Portly, red-faced.”
Sanji laughed, “Ouch. My father is portly and red-faced though, you’re right. I suppose that’s my fate one day too.”
Katakuri didn’t respond, settling down into his chair and continuing to stare unblinking at the fire.
“So… what do you do in the evenings?” Sanji asked, breaking the silence.
“Host dinner parties.”
“You do?” Sanji blinked.
“It was a joke,” Katakuri sighed, “As you may have surmised, I do not get visitors.”
“But you’ve been so hospitable to me,” Sanji teased, “I get to sit on the floor and everything.”
Katakuri stood immediately and returned with a small cushion that he placed on the ground next to Sanji before returning to his chair, “That belonged to my pet dog, who is now deceased.”
“You didn’t have to tell me all that,” Sanji snorted, “But thank you, kind host.” He sat cross-legged on the dog bed and continued surveying Katakuri.
“You are very curious,” Katakuri huffed.
“Wouldn’t you be curious too, if you stumbled on a mansion in the middle of the woods to meet a very tall human with fascinating fashion?”
“I would be scared,” Katakuri replied, eyes now stormy, “Perhaps you should be as well.”
Sanji considered how to respond. It was true. He, by all rights, should be frightened. A flick of Katakuri’s fingers could send his head rolling, and here he was teasing him. But there was something about the man that made Sanji feel like rolling the dice and taking a risk on making this connection.
“I don’t have much sense,” he shrugged, “And if you can appreciate a good maple doughnut, I consider you an instant friend.”
“Your bar for friendship is low.”
“So, friend,” Sanji grinned, “What do you do in your free time? Read romance novels?”
Katakuri glared at him but grumbled sadly, “I would like to read but they don’t… make books in my size. Most items, I can have custom built, but getting large print books is difficult. On occasion, I have one of my servants read to me.”
“Want me to read to you now?” Sanji asked, “I’ve been told my dulcet tones are great for any genre.”
This got a low chuckle from Katakuri. “You really are a chatterbox.”
“Guilty,” Sanji said, raising his hands, “I haven’t seen any servants, do you keep them in a dungeon?”
“My servants are… unique,” Katakuri said cautiously, “You will not see them during your brief stay.”
“Rain doesn’t seem to be letting up,” Sanji said, looking up at the windows, “Dunno if my stay will be that brief, you did promise I could stay here until the rain passed.”
“I can renege on that promise at any time.”
“I have a feeling you won’t,” Sanji winked, “You seem like the strong, silent, honorable type.”
Katakuri let out a heavy sigh, “If the rain does not let up, I will have a guest bedroom prepared for you.”
Sanji stood and rolled his sleeves up, “The soggy doughnuts are only for a short stay, let me make you something else in case I do impose on you tonight. You have a kitchen, right? Or do you roast your meat over an open flame in the backyard?”
Katakuri watched him carefully, then stood and beckoned for Sanji to follow. Sanji jogged to keep up with Katakuri’s stride, his own stomach rumbling as he thought guiltily about Zeff. He had told his father he might stop by for dinner and hoped the old man wouldn’t wait too long before getting started himself. Lost in his thoughts, he ended up running into Katakuri’s leg when the man stopped suddenly, grabbing onto the fabric to maintain his balance. His leg was like a tree trunk, sturdy and unyielding.
“Whoops, sorry,” he said, letting go and looking around.
“The kitchen,” Katakuri said, pointing to a normal-sized door, “I cannot enter.”
“So if you didn’t have servants, you really would starve then,” Sanji sighed, “How do they cook enough food to feed you, big guy?”
“I have many servants.”
“Fancy,” Sanji said, opening the door and peeking in, “Before you go, sweet or savory?”
“I will wait here,” Katakuri said, sitting down on the ground and closing his eyes, “And sweet.”
“Don’t trust me?” Sanji asked, propping the door open, “Or just want to keep me company?”
“The former.”
“I’d have to dump a few gallons of arsenic in your food to poison you,” Sanji laughed, “And I wouldn’t do that to food. But thank you for the company.” He entered the kitchen and began rooting around the drawers and cupboards. Doughnut holes would be fast and easy, he decided. He could do them in batches until Katakuri was full and make himself a few on the side.
“How do you afford all the servants?” Sanji asked, dumping oil into a deep fryer and turning the temperature up, “Do you come from old money or something?”
“Magic,” Katakuri replied.
“Fine, be secretive then,” Sanji sighed, “I bet you cursed them all to live here forever and do all your dirty work.”
Katakuri didn’t respond, so Sanji focused on his batter, still curious. Zeff always grumbled about his nosiness, complaining that Sanji could get a rise out of dough faster than any other baker because he asked it too many annoying questions. The kitchen was well-stocked with fresh ingredients. Where did Katakuri get it all? His cooks must work for hours to make just one meal for him, and yet not one was in sight to either prepare or clean up after dinner.
He settled for a tame question first to get Katakuri talking again, “What’s your favorite food, Kata?”
Sanji heard a small huff, likely from the nickname, but his host responded with, “Sweets.”
“I never could have guessed. Anything in particular?”
“Doughnuts.”
“What kind of doughnut? Glazed? Chocolate? Cream?”
“Any.”
Sanji sighed, “An assortment it is then.”
“Are you… making doughnuts?” Katakuri asked, excitement flooding his voice, and Sanji grinned at the eye peeking through the open kitchen door at him.
“Doughnut holes, a bit of a cheat, but I don’t have time for a full rise. I’ll come visit with more doughnuts some other day.”
“You’ll… come back?”
“Am I allowed?” Sanji laughed, “Or I can just drop them off at your doorstep and run away.”
“You may return with more doughnuts.”
“So generous. I’m about to pop the first batch in the oil, don’t talk to me for a bit.”
“You are the one who keeps talking.”
“Can’t hear you,” Sanji grinned, enjoying the sound of the oil popping and cracking and the sight of the golden balls of dough bobbing in the fryer. He fished them out and let them cool off as he filled a shallow dish with powdered sugar.
“All of this work will be just a mouthful for you,” he said cheerfully, “I’ll be in here all evening to make sure you’re full.”
“You do not need to do that,” Katakuri replied, “I already ate dinner.”
“You don’t like… eat cows whole or something, do you?” Sanji asked, rolling the doughnut holes in the powdered sugar and stacking them neatly on a plate.
“Only on Tuesdays.”
Sanji snorted and accidentally blew a cloud of powdered sugar into his face. He coughed into his arm and took the plate out to Katakuri, who stared at him.
“You look like a tiny ghost.”
“Don’t make me laugh when I’m working with powdered sugar,” Sanji replied, trying to wipe his hair and face with his sleeves. Katakuri pulled out a huge handkerchief from his pocket and offered it to Sanji.
“This is a beach towel for me,” he said, handing the plate to Katakuri who eyed the doughnut holes hungrily. Sanji used one edge of the handkerchief to wipe at his face, watching as Katakuri sat motionless with the plate in his hands.
“It’s best hot,” he said.
“I don’t… I don’t eat in front of others,” Katakuri replied.
“No need to be shy, I’m going to sneak a couple from the later batches for myself.”
Katakuri still didn’t move.
“It’s only polite to the chef to show how much you enjoy them.”
“I cannot,” Katakuri said, shifting uncomfortably.
“Fine,” Sanji said, throwing his arms in the air. He wrapped Katakuri’s handkerchief around his shoulders like a shawl and stalked back into the kitchen to continue working. Seconds later, a huge finger slid the empty plate into the room.
“They were delicious,” Katakuri said, a happiness in his tone that made Sanji smile.
“Of course they were, I made them,” he responded, working on the next batch, intent on adding dried fruits to give some semblance of health to this meal.
---
Sanji’s forearms were sore after making several more batches for Katakuri, each batch consumed out of Sanji’s eyesight and met with curt statements of praise, though each was said with more warmth than the last. The entire time Sanji was in the kitchen, Katakuri sat outside, begrudgingly answering Sanji’s questions about the mansion and his love of sweets, though carefully avoiding answers that otherwise gave Sanji any insight into his personal life.
“Alright, I’m calling it. I’ll turn into a doughnut soon if I keep going and I don’t want to be accidentally eaten by you,” Sanji said finally, “I can’t tell if the rain has stopped. I’m betting even if it had, you would have kept me slaving away for your sweet tooth.”
“The rain has not stopped,” Katakuri replied, lowering his head to watch as Sanji prepared to clean up, “And you do not need to clean up. My servants will do so tonight.”
“Nonsense,” Sanji said, “They’re probably asleep. I’m not leaving caked on batter for your folks to take care of in the morning.”
“Sanji,” Katakuri said, “I cannot let you continue working. You have already done so much. My servants will take care of it immediately, there are always some who are awake.”
With a heavy sigh, Sanji put down the well-used mixing bowl, “As long as you pay them overtime.”
Katakuri snorted, “Right.” He got to his feet when Sanji left the kitchen and began walking back down the quiet hallways. It was still raining, just a light patter on the roof.
“Thank you, for dessert,” Katakuri said when they reached another normal-sized door, “It has been a long time since I was able to enjoy such a treat.”
“The pleasure is mine,” Sanji said, prodding Katakuri’s knee gently, “I love baking, I got to try out half a dozen variations on you and didn’t get complaints about being too full.”
“I am very rarely full.”
“A good test subject then,” Sanji laughed, entering the room and looking at the regular bed with gratitude, “I’ll sneak out early in the morning to head back to work, but I’ll try and stop by to visit my new friend.”
“If you would like, Sanji,” Katakuri said quietly, closing the door with a finger.
---
“Did you make it home alright last night?” Pudding asked.
“Nah, the roads were pretty bad, so I ended up staying with a friend,” Sanji replied, carefully measuring out flour for doughnuts.
“A friend?” she asked, curiosity in her voice.
“Yup,” Sanji grinned, “Secretive guy, maybe I’ll tell you more about him later.” When he had gotten up in the morning, there was a plate of fresh eggs, toast, and coffee at this door, which he had scarfed down quickly before biking to work, giving Katakuri’s house a wave before he left and wondering if the man himself was watching at one of the gigantic windows. He was working on a jelly doughnut today, already planning on making a few extra boxes for his large new friend.
After closing up the Baratie, he began biking with the doughnuts neatly packed in his basket. The tree had been cleared on his path home, but he took the fork to the left, wondering if he’d still be able to find his way back to Katakuri’s house. A few minutes later, he was leading his bike up the hill and tying it carefully to a post outside before pushing the heavy doors open like he owned the place.
“Kata,” he called out, “I have a delivery.” He jumped when the man materialized next to him. For a big guy, he was oddly stealthy.
“Do you have to call me that?” he asked morosely.
“It’s cute,” Sanji said, and handed the basket over, “I can’t see half your face, but I’m just going to assume you’re smiling at me.”
“A bold assumption.”
“I’ll pick up the basket tomorrow on my way to work,” Sanji laughed, turning around, “You can just drop it at the door.”
“You’re leaving?” Katakuri asked, and Sanji paused at the hint of sadness in the question. He looked back at the man, whose eyes were stoic, standing in the entranceway of his lonely home, occupied otherwise only by mysterious servants.
“I skipped out on dinner with my dad yesterday,” Sanji said, “So I’ve got to go now, but I might stop by tomorrow.”
“I can… I can have my servants prepare dinner for you tomorrow.”
“I’m not coming here to eat alone,” Sanji smiled, “I’ll have dinner with you.”
“I can sit with you while you eat.”
“You’re ridiculous,” Sanji glared, whirling at him, which only resulted in him hurting his neck trying to look Katakuri in the eyes, “Do you have really horrible table manners or something? My childhood friend growing up was basically a green ogre, so you can’t possibly be worse than him.”
Katakuri simply shrugged.
“You know all the pushback you’re giving me is only going to make me more annoying about eating with you, right?”
“I am getting the sense that is what you are like.”
“Then why not spare yourself some trouble and give up the mystery?” Sanji said, crossing his arms.
“A passerby would be surprised to see such a small man trying to lecture me.”
“I’m a normal-sized man, tall even,” Sanji flushed.
“Thank you for the doughnuts,” Katakuri said, taking the basket and walking away, “I will have my servants prepare a meal for a small man tomorrow evening.”
“You’ll never see me again,” Sanji called after him, not bothering to hide the grin on his face as he left.
---
“Hey pops,” Sanji said, “You traveled a lot in your glory days. You ever… met a really tall human? Like 17 feet tall human?”
“Are you asking if I’ve seen a giant?” Zeff asked, “If so, the answer is yes, but only from a distance. Didn’t feel like getting close and breaking out my tape measure. They’re nasty creatures. We gave Elbaf a wide berth, but the giants there are more like 50 feet tall. 17 feet would be more like a baby or toddler.”
Sanji snickered at that. “So never just like a grotesquely tall but otherwise normal human?”
“I’ve seen a wizard mix a giraffe and a human out of spite, which is something I’d never want to see again.”
“Magic?” Sanji asked, curious.
Zeff nodded, “Spells or curses, depending on who you ask. Not in this part of the East Blue. It’s safe here from magic and danger, Sanji.”
“Right, absolutely, no magic, no danger, no tall men, none of that,” Sanji said, standing up quickly and moving to take the dirty dishes to the sink.
---
The next evening, when Sanji returned to Katakuri’s house, the entranceway was lit with candles and an effort had been made to polish the glassware and dust the banisters.
Sanji grinned at Katakuri, handing him a stack of cream doughnuts, “For me? You shouldn’t have.” Katakuri had put on a suit today instead of his usual shirtless biker look, but had still wrapped a large scarf around his neck and the bottom half of his face. Curiosity burned in Sanji’s chest like a brand, warring desperately with Respecting Boundaries.
“You are a guest.”
“I was a guest the first time I came.”
“You were an uninvited guest,” Katakuri replied, leading Sanji down a hallway he hadn’t gone down before and opening a door to a large dining room. The dining table was taller than Sanji, though he noted a tall bar stool had been secured to one of the similarly large chairs. Sanji eyed the chair, trying to decide how he would get up. Katakuri cleared his throat, then knelt down and placed his hands on the ground palm up.
“Are you offering to be an elevator for me?” Sanji asked dryly.
“If it would offend or embarrass you, I can arrange for a pulley system to be put in place.”
“No,” Sanji sighed, “That sounds way more embarrassing.” He awkwardly shifted, trying to decide how he wanted to be lifted that would simultaneously allow him to maintain his dignity and also not fall off on the journey and injure himself in a way that would be very difficult to explain to Pudding and Zeff. He gingerly sat in Katakuri’s palms, deciding no one was around to watch his shame. Katakuri cradled him in his hands and lifted him carefully, like he was holding something precious, and Sanji couldn’t help but smile. He was deposited gently on the bar stool, and Katakuri sat down on the seat nearby. In front of Sanji was a huge spread of plates, a whole roast pig, casseroles, pies, grains of every type. Sanji was prepared to exclaim about the meal when he noticed the lack of table setting in front of Katakuri.
“So you’re not eating with me tonight,” he asked sourly.
“I dine early.”
“Then next time I’ll come earlier.”
Katakuri sighed, “Have you heard the phrase, curiosity killed the cat?”
“Are you threatening me? I won’t go down easy. You may be bigger, but I’m feisty,” Sanji sniffed.
“That is true,” Katakuri said, the corners of his eyes betraying his smile, “But, before we battle, please eat. My chefs worked hard on this meal for you. They were happy to cook for someone other than me.”
“I should thank them… in person,” Sanji said, reaching for one of the bowls and checking Katakuri’s expression out of the corner of his eye. The man remained stoic, watching as Sanji loaded his plate. Katakuri’s eyes remained on him as Sanji began eating.
“Oh,” Sanji said, eyes wide at the depth of flavor, “I really need to meet your chefs and get their recipes.”
“I’ll pass the recipes along,” Katakuri said.
“No wonder you got so big,” Sanji said, “Feed me like this every day, and I’ll get 20 feet tall too. Is that your trick?”
“You’re always prying.”
“I’m loosening you up, Kata. One day you’ll spill all your secrets to little ol’ Sanji.”
“I am slightly worried that you will succeed,” Katakuri sighed. Sanji mimicked the motion of opening a jar, making a popping sound with his mouth and pantomiming surprise at the contents of the imaginary container. Katakuri’s eyes closed, his shoulders began shaking, and Sanji relished being able to make him laugh.
“You are a strange one, Sanji,” Katakuri said, wiping his eyes.
“Thanks,” Sanji smiled, stuffing a spoonful of casserole in his mouth.
---
After dinner, Sanji sat on the dog bed in the great hall again, which Katakuri hadn’t put away after their first meeting and watched as Katakuri carefully poured whisky out of a huge flask into a tiny cup held delicately between two huge fingers.
Sanji accepted the cup and sipped at it, peering over the rim to see if Katakuri would drink himself. He didn’t, instead settling in his chair and staring back at Sanji.
“Want me to read to you?” Sanji asked after a long period of silence.
“If you would like,” Katakuri replied. Sanji looked around the room, his eyes landing on a row of bookcases on the far wall. He stood and went to peruse the shelves.
“Beauty and the Beast,” he giggled, tilting his head to read the spine of one of the books, “That’s you and me. What’s it about?”
“It’s a romance,” Katakuri replied.
“Oh,” Sanji said, a blush unexpectedly rising on his cheeks, “So I was right that you read romance novels in your spare time.”
“They are diverting.”
“I’m not sure we’re at the point of our friendship where I can read you a steamy romance,” Sanji said, pulling a book from a shelf, “How about a good ol’ action? The Three Musketeers.” Hearing Katakuri’s grunt of assent, he grabbed the book and returned to flop face down on his dog bed, flipped to the first page, and began reading.
---
“Sanji.”
Sanji blinked blearily up at Katakuri, who was kneeling next to him.
“You fell asleep at a particularly gripping moment,” Katakuri said. The light from the fireplace glowed on Katakuri’s cheekbones and straight nose, casting soft shadows on his face. His eyes were warm as he looked down at Sanji.
Before he could stop himself, Sanji reached up and grabbed at Katakuri’s scarf. Katakuri’s eyes widened, and he reared back, causing the scarf to come undone and revealing the lower half of his face.
Sanji stared at him. Fangs protruded from Katakuri’s mouth, his other teeth jagged and sharp as Katakuri sat open-mouthed in shock. Stitch marks ran from the corners of lips to his hairline. The firelight now seemed ominous rather than warm, and Sanji felt every cell in his body telling him to run run run.
“Get out,” Katakuri said, voice calm and cold though his eyes were frantic. Sanji took a few deep breaths to calm himself. This was his friend, not an enemy, not a monster.
“Kata,” Sanji breathed out, reaching for him.
“Don’t call me that,” Katakuri said, voice loud and harsh, and Sanji winced.
“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have done that, but I’m not just going to leave,” Sanji said firmly, “You don’t have to hide from me, Katakuri. You don’t have anything to hide.”
“You don’t know anything about me,” Katakuri hissed, putting a hand over his mouth.
“Yes, but I want to,” Sanji replied.
“Get out, and don’t come back,” Katakuri said, whirling and striding out of the great hall, leaving Sanji standing with his long scarf clutched in his hands.
---
The door wouldn’t open for him the next evening, try as he might to push it open. He circled the house, looking for another entrance or a glimpse of Katakuri in any of the windows. He gave up when the sky darkened, leaving the basket of doughnuts at the door.
The basket was empty the next morning. Sanji saw an envelope at the bottom of the basket and grabbed it eagerly, hoping it was a note of some kind. It was full of cash, too much of it, his gift turned into a purchase. Eyes narrowing, he pounded on the door.
“Katakuri, you’re being an asshole. Let me in.” He kicked at the door, succeeding only in stubbing his toe.
“Jokes on you, this isn’t nearly enough for my doughnuts,” he screamed. Another envelope fell through the mail slot. More money.
“You’re such a child,” Sanji hissed at the door, forcing both envelopes back through the slot and running away.
When he made it to work, Pudding stared at him as he paced around the kitchen, throwing his hands in the air and groaning.
“Everything okay, Sanji?” she asked.
“What do you do, Pudding, if you’re dealing with a giant manbaby who is too proud to realize you’re just trying to be friends and that his slight dental issues don’t bother you in the slightest?” Sanji raged. He heard a crash and turned to see Pudding had dropped the top to one of their glass display cloches. She bent down to pick up some of the larger pieces, her hand shaking.
“No no, darling,” Sanji said, running to grab a broom and dustpan, “Don’t touch that, I’ll take care of it.” Pudding watched as he carefully swept up the glass.
“Are you feeling ill?” Sanji asked when he went to dump out the shards.
“Katakuri,” she said softly, “Your friend who you’ve been visiting with doughnuts is Katakuri.”
Sanji froze, “You know Katakuri?”
“He’s my brother.”
---
Sanji sat across from Pudding in the Baratie, the sign to the bakery turned to Closed as Pudding explained her brother’s story.
“Cursed by a witch,” he said softly.
“Because he wouldn’t love her, she made him unlovable,” Pudding sobbed, “And it’s too late. His 21st birthday passed. He’s stuck the way he is. The witch enchanted the house, making inanimate objects into his servants to take care of him. He doesn’t want for anything, but he’s so very alone. He won’t even let me visit him, tells me just to forget about him.”
Sanji stood, the sound of his chair legs scraping against the floor making Pudding jump.
“Absolutely not,” Sanji muttered, “Come, Pudding, we’re making the world’s biggest doughnut to bring to the world’s biggest baby to show him he’s not alone. You must know his favorite doughnut.”
“He liked a chocolate chiffon doughnut our baker used to make,” Pudding said, eyes lighting up, “I don’t have the recipe anymore.”
“I’m recreating it then,” Sanji said, moving toward the kitchen, “Go get some more eggs and flour. I’ll need a big cart and the biggest cake stand you can find.” Pudding saluted and ran out of the bakery.
---
“Katakuri Charlotte,” Sanji yelled at the dark house, “We have a delivery.” He smirked when one of the lights turned on, a candle illuminating a tall figure. Pudding shifted nervously next to him. “The house listens to him,” she whispered, “The last time I came, a carriage sprouted out from the ground and forcefully took me away.”
“Well the house can go fuck itself,” Sanji said, crossing his arms, “If it tries to remove me, I’m taking the Big Doughnut with me.”
The door to the house slowly creaked open, and Katakuri poked his head out to stare at them.
“Pudding,” he said quietly, and she waved meekly at him.
“What do you want, Sanji?” he asked.
“I come with a peace offering,” Sanji said, “Let me see those big vampire teeth and let me be your friend.”
“You’re insufferable.”
“That’s true. And I’m also a talented baker, and this chocolate chiffon doughnut deserves a good home. But you have to eat it in front of me, or I’m rolling it back to the town square and feeding the whole village dessert without you.”
“Why can’t you just leave me alone, Sanji?” Katakuri sighed.
Sanji paused, thinking about his life before arriving at Whole Cake with Zeff. About Germa, about being hungry and alone.
“I can’t do that,” he replied, “I really can’t. Let me in, Katakuri, you can have a delicious doughnut that is actually the right size for dessert for you, and I’ll finish reading The Three Musketeers to you and Pudding. Doesn’t that sound nice?”
“I think it sounds nice,” Pudding said quietly.
“Thank you, Pudding. I’ll have to explain the story thus far to you,” Sanji said, “What do you say, big guy?”
Katakuri eyed him for a few moments, then whirled around and walked away, leaving the door open. Sanji grinned, giving Pudding a series of high fives. They turned to the huge doughnut on the cart behind them, then looked at each other.
“Oi, we just deliver this to the door,” Sanji called into the house, “I’m not dragging it to your chair for you.”
---
Observing Katakuri eat was fascinating. Sanji watched as he cut the doughnut with a knife and fork, then unhinged his jaw and stuffed a foot tall slice straight into his mouth.
“It’s rude to stare at someone while they’re eating,” Katakuri said after swallowing the first bite, slightly disgruntled.
“How big can your mouth get?” Sanji asked in response.
“Did no one ever teach you manners?” Katakuri glared.
“I left them outside your 20-foot-tall door. How is the doughnut, by the way?”
Katakuri smiled, showing all his teeth, then quickly covered his mouth with a large hand. “It is delicious as always, Sanji.”
“Pudding helped me recreate your family’s recipe,” Sanji said proudly, smiling at his assistant baker. He had offered his dog bed to her, but Katakuri had left and returned with a normal-sized chair for her to sit in. (“You had that all along and gave me the dog bed instead?” Sanji had glared at him. “It was amusing, I can get you another chair,” Katakuri had replied. “Nah, this is comfortable,” Sanji had responded.)
“I only remembered the ingredients that were delivered. Sanji did the rest,” Pudding said shyly.
“Pudding was always our most talented baker,” Katakuri said, his voice and eyes warm as he looked at his sister.
“We’ll both come visit and you won’t have your house evict her because you’re trying to be a martyr,” Sanji said.
“Sometimes I really do just want peace,” Katakuri sighed.
“Hush, time to read more about French swashbucklers,” Sanji replied, flipping through the pages of the book, trying to remember where he had stopped.
---
They fell into a routine after that night, Sanji, and sometimes Pudding as well, stopping by Katakuri’s house after closing the bakery to chat and occasionally have dinner with the recluse. Over time, Sanji caught more and more glimpses of Katakuri’s servants, a mop that skittered away when Sanji turned a corner, dishes that washed themselves, a frying pan flipping a perfect fried egg. He began to thank any inanimate object he saw, and thought he once saw a candlestick waving back at him.
Sanji brought leftover pastries and fresh doughnuts with him each visit. (Katakuri began having supplies delivered to the bakery to make up for the bags of flour Sanji went through to feed him. Sanji didn’t complain about the extremely good quality ingredients he now got to work with.)
He loved watching Katakuri eat. After some time, the man began loosening up around Sanji, eating Sanji’s desserts with gleeful abandonment. He was cute, Sanji realized, watching Katakuri slide an entire box of doughnuts into his mouth and sit chewing and savoring the large mouthful with his eyes closed, an intense look of pleasure on his face.
“How you’ve not died of diabetes yet, I really don’t know,” Sanji said. He paused, tempted by the next line of inquiry. He hadn’t yet brought up the topic of the curse yet. “Did the witch curse you to always be in good health as well?” he asked lightly.
Katakuri opened an eye to peer at Sanji, then swallowed and dabbed at his mouth with his handkerchief.
“I have always eaten more sweets than I should and maintained my physique,” he said, dodging the question. Sanji’s eyes moved to the long line of abs on Katakuri’s exposed front, and he physically forced them back up to Katakuri’s face.
“Pudding said the curse is irreversible,” Sanji continued prying, “Something about your 21st birthday passing and it being too late.”
“Pudding has already told you more than she should.”
Sanji sat up and tugged at Katakuri’s pant leg, “We’re friends now. Friends should tell friends all their deepest, darkest secrets.”
“Friends also respect each other and understand when they shouldn’t keep snooping.”
“Dunno what kind of friendship you’re talking about. That’s not how it works with my friends. Give me a hint, I’m dying over here.” He wrapped himself around Katakuri’s leg and looked up with his most pathetic pleading expression.
“You are a pest,” Katakuri sighed, looking down at Sanji and finally relenting, “I was told I had to love and be loved by the time I turned 21.”
“Finding love,” Sanji gasped, “Now we’re talking. Is that why you have so many romance novels?”
Katakuri flushed, and Sanji wriggled happily at getting something more than a glare or an eye roll from the stoic man.
“Was your strategy back then also to barricade yourself in a dark house and yell at visitors?”
“Being three times taller than a normal human with razor-sharp teeth makes finding love or friendship difficult,” Katakuri replied, “Not many people want a return visit."
“I came back.”
“You are abnormal.”
Sanji giggled and let go of Katakuri’s leg, curiosity sated for the moment, and fell back onto the dog bed by the fireplace. He crossed a leg over the other and propped his arms behind his head, staring up at the vaulted ceilings above.
“Why…” Katakuri began, and Sanji turned to look at him. He had a conflicted look on his face as he regarded the flickering flames.
“Why do you come back, Sanji?” he asked.
Sanji turned his gaze back to the ceiling and thought about the question. What else was there to say other than he liked spending time with Katakuri, with his dry sense of humor, his tireless patience with Sanji’s questions, his thoughtful commentary about the books Sanji read to him, his ability to make Sanji feel like the world’s greatest baker with each bite he took.
“If it is out of pity, then I would sooner rather you—”
“It’s not,” Sanji blurted out, sitting up in panic, “It’s definitely not. I look forward to visiting every day, Kata. I’m surprised you put up with me, honestly.”
“I look forward to your visiting every day, Sanji.”
Sanji felt himself turning red and laid back down, facing away from Katakuri, “Good, we’re in agreement then.”
“Will you keep reading Moby-Dick, Sanji?” Katakuri asked quietly.
“Yes,” Sanji said, eager to change the topic, “Where were we?”
“Chapter 39. I know not all that may be coming, but be it what it will, I'll go to it laughing,” Katakuri quoted.
Sanji grinned, “A good quote.”
Katakuri smiled back, “It seems like your motto in life in general.”
“I try,” Sanji shrugged, taking a sip of his whisky to wet his throat and returning to the story.
---
“We should eat outside today,” Sanji said as soon as he entered Katakuri’s house, “It’s a beautiful day. Do you have a picnic blanket?”
“I don’t go outside,” Katakuri responded.
“The sun isn’t going to hurt you,” Sanji said, putting his hands on his hips and glaring up at him, “It’s good for you to go outside, smell the fresh air every now and then. If you keep staying in this gloomy place all day every day, you’ll go insane.”
“I like it in my house.”
Sanji pushed at Katakuri’s knee as Katakuri watched him, amused. He gave up eventually and picked up the basket of doughnuts.
“Fine, stay in here, I’m going to sit outside and eat all these myself.”
He walked a few meters from the house, plopped down on the soft grass, and eyed the front door, wondering who would cave first. He smirked when Katakuri emerged moments later, shielding his eyes from the sun, holding a red picnic blanket in his hand.
“You are not very kind,” Katakuri muttered, sitting down next to him. Neither of them bothered with the picnic blanket, Katakuri too busy looking around nervously, as if expecting townspeople to start popping up from behind the nearest bluff.
“No one’s going to see you,” Sanji said, handing him a doughnut, “Try this one, it’s chocolate peppermint. I’m experimenting for the holidays coming up.” Katakuri popped it in his mouth and chewed thoughtfully.
“Thoughts? More mint? Less mint? Dark chocolate instead?”
“The mint is good, as is the cocoa level.” He paused, “If I may suggest, espresso powder may be good as well, but it is already delicious.”
Sanji grinned, whipping out his notebook to write down “espresso powder” in his notes.
“If you could fit in my bakery, I’d offer you a job,” Sanji said, “Someone who loves sweets as much as you should just go ahead and make them.”
“I am perfectly happy being a taste tester.”
“Of course you are,” Sanji laughed, propping his arms behind him and staring up at the sky. “If we could break your curse, you could come work in the bakery,” he mused, “You wouldn’t have to hide out in the middle of nowhere. You could go frolic around in town and meet a bunch of gorgeous women."
“Sanji,” Katakuri said, interrupting him, “For the first time since I was cursed, I am content. There is no need for you to continue worrying about my future. Your companionship is enough.”
Sanji blamed the heat in his face on the sun and pouted, “Yes, but what about the gorgeous—” He was cut off by a huge finger on his lips, covering his mouth completely with the lightest of touches. He glared at Katakuri, who immediately retracted his finger and went back to eating doughnuts.
“You know you could accidentally break my neck with that stunt,” Sanji muttered.
“I would never hurt you,” Katakuri responded.
“Not on purpose.”
“Never,” Katakuri said firmly.
Sanji sighed and moved to lie on his back, resting his head on Katakuri’s leg and hiding in the shade cast by his large frame. A light breeze blew, ruffling his hair and causing him to shiver slightly. Fall was on the way, marking a few months since he had first met Katakuri during a summer storm.
“Are you cold?” Katakuri asked.
“Nah, it’s like leaning against a volcano.” He felt Katakuri shift, and the picnic blanket was draped over him. Sanji slowly drifted off, a small smile on his face.
---
He woke up to a gentle prodding on his shoulder and saw the sun had already mostly set.
“Time to go home, Sanji,” Katakuri said quietly.
“I’m just going to sleep right here tonight,” Sanji mumbled.
“You’re going to get eaten by wolves.”
“You’ll chase them away.”
Katakuri snorted, “At least stay in the guest bedroom if you’re not going to make it home. I won’t have you sleeping outside in the cold.”
“’m gonna sleep under the stars, how romantic,” Sanji said sleepily. He heard a heavy sigh and moments later felt himself being lifted in the air, forced to grab onto Katakuri’s scarf to stop from falling backwards. Katakuri’s hands came up to support his lower back as Sanji wrapped his legs around Katakuri’s torso.
“You are a small child,” Katakuri said as he walked toward the house, and Sanji felt the words rumbling in Katakuri’s chest.
“No, I am a regular man,” Sanji said, “You are a large child.”
“I’m going to drop you.”
“You said you would never hurt me,” Sanji said cheerfully, patting Katakuri on the cheek.
“I suppose I did say that,” Katakuri sighed, carrying Sanji into the house and down the hallway toward the guest bedroom. Sanji was laid on the bed, and Katakuri carefully helped him take off his shoes, pulling them off rather than mess with the laces with his too-large fingers.
“Kata,” Sanji said sleepily.
“Yes, Sanji.”
“I’m going to keep worrying about your future, you know.”
“And I’m going to keep telling you that you do not need to.”
“No one should be alone. Everybody should be happy.”
“I am not alone. And I am beyond happy. Go to sleep.”
Sanji curled up under the covers and listened for the sound of Katakuri leaving, but fell asleep before he did.
---
“Powdered jelly doughnuts really are dangerous for you, aren’t they?” Sanji asked, chin propped on his hand as he watched Katakuri eating. There was a strip of red jelly on his chin, looking eerily like blood dripping from his teeth, powder all over his upper lip. Sanji grabbed a napkin and raised it to Katakuri’s face, wiping the jelly away. He paused for a moment, taking in the dangerous set of teeth so close to him. Katakuri had stopped eating and was now just looking at Sanji. Sanji lightly gripped Katakuri’s chin in his hand, raising the other to wipe the powder from Katakuri’s lip, feeling a sharp exhale of breath from the man as he did so. He had a sudden crazy urge to lean forward, instead pushing away and busying himself pouring a cup of tea.
“I’m not going to be able to come tomorrow,” he said, voice shaky for some reason, “There’s a festival for the kids in the village for All Hallow’s Eve.”
“Okay,” Katakuri responded, voice quiet, “Sounds fun.”
“You could come visit me instead,” Sanji said.
“I have no interest in scaring small children.”
“Have you met any small children? I would be more scared of them.”
“Pudding was terrifying as a child.”
“Sweet Pudding?” Sanji laughed, “I can’t imagine it.”
“She was quite the actor.”
“She would want you to come too,” Sanji said.
“I will consider it.”
Surprised, Sanji nearly dropped his teacup.
“Really?” he asked, face splitting into a grin.
“I just said I would consider it.”
“In my mind that means you’re coming.”
“Then you may be disappointed because I am only considering it.”
Sanji stood and poked Katakuri in the forehead, “I’m going to wait for you at the crossroads in Totto Forest and walk with you to the event. If you don’t show up, I’ll cry and scream and won’t bring you doughnuts for weeks.”
“You are a bully.”
“You always call me such nice names, I might fall in love,” Sanji laughed, busying himself with cleaning up the afternoon tea cups.
---
Sanji waited nervously at the crossroads, staring down the left path and straining to listen for Katakuri’s footsteps. He wouldn’t be able to wait much longer, Pudding was happy to set things up, but he had dozens of funnel cakes to prepare for hungry children.
Just when he was about to give up and hustle back to town, he saw Katakuri’s tall form striding toward him. He leapt in the air, waving, joy bursting in his chest. Katakuri had put a shirt on, but had hidden his mouth with his scarf again. Baby steps, Sanji thought. Under both arms, he had two giant pumpkins, a sack on his back apparently laden with more.
“You look like some weird autumn Santa Claus,” Sanji grinned.
“I recall that the villagers like to carve pumpkins on All Hallow’s Eve,” he said.
“You’re the only one who is going to be able to make a dent in those pumpkins,” Sanji laughed, jogging to keep up with Katakuri’s strides.
“Did you… tell them I was coming?”
“I mentioned a special guest to my customers today,” Sanji said. Katakuri just sighed.
“Are you nervous?” Sanji asked.
“I am prepared to be forced back home with torches and pitchforks.”
“Don’t worry, they’ll be a little shocked at first, but they’ll see you’re just a lovable tall goof,” he said, hoping beyond hope the villagers would quickly see what he had seen in Katakuri.
He took a deep breath as they walked up the street toward the entrance of the village. Katakuri had to lower his head to enter through the tall arch. Sanji walked close to him, a protective hand on Katakuri’s pant leg as they neared the festival area.
The screaming began much earlier than expected. Katakuri winced at the shrill sound, and Sanji looked around for the source, spotting an older woman standing nearby, backing toward her door.
“Ma’am, ma’am, this is my friend,” Sanji said desperately, “You know me, the Baratie baker, Sanji?”
“This is a bad idea, Sanji,” Katakuri said quietly, when the woman slammed the door behind her, “I should just head back home.”
“No,” Sanji said firmly, “We just surprised her, the villagers are very kind.” He tugged at Katakuri’s leg, and Katakuri began walking forward again reluctantly, forehead furrowed.
More screaming, more doors slamming as they approached the bright lanterns of the All Hallow’s Eve festival.
“Sanji, I am ruining their nights,” Katakuri said. Sanji ignored him.
“Sit,” Sanji said, when they reached their stall. Pudding gave her brother a hug, but looked nervously at the now empty street. Katakuri put the pumpkins down and sat, looking morosely around him. Sanji stalked to the stall and rolled his sleeves up.
“I’m making funnel cakes. I’m going to make it smell so fucking good, no one is going to be able to hide in their houses anymore,” he gritted out, pulling out his tub of batter and checking the temperature of the oil. He began frying, making intricate patterns in the hot oil, flipping the golden-brown cakes, dunking them in powdered sugar and cinnamon, drizzling some with chocolate sauce.
“It smells delicious, Sanji,” Pudding sighed.
“Good,” Sanji grinned, looking up at Katakuri, “If no one comes, you and Kata can have them all.”
Then, he heard a shout and turned to see one of the village’s small children running toward their stall. His mother chased after him, trying to grab him, but he managed to slip out of her grip each time.
“Mr. Baker,” he said, eyes bright and clutching onto Sanji’s apron, “May I have a funnel cake?”
“Kata, will you grab one for our little guest?” Sanji asked with a grin. Katakuri hesitated, but carefully picked up one of the prepared plates and offered it to the boy in the palm of his hand. The boy giggled and took it, ignoring the gasp from his mother.
“Sanji’s desserts are the best,” Katakuri said quietly, “Please tell your family to visit the Baratie.”
“I will,” the boy laughed, “You’re big. Can I ride on your shoulder?”
“I will defer to your mother,” Katakuri said.
“Mama, can I ride on Mr. Big’s shoulder?”
She turned to Sanji as if he were Katakuri’s keeper. He shrugged, “It’s the safest place in the world. And quite comfortable.” She nodded hesitantly, and her son flew toward Katakuri, clambering up his arm like it was a rope ladder. Katakuri froze when the child gripped at his scarf, but otherwise kept his hand held protectively behind the boy’s body to prevent him from falling backwards.
“Mama, look at me,” he squealed, waving at her. Moments later, a few other children ran out of their homes and clambered onto Katakuri’s lap as well, and Sanji thought his heart might just burst out of his body at the sight. Slowly, the villagers began trickling out of their homes, the music resumed, the sound of chatter and laughter returned.
“Who is he?” one of the men gathered around Sanji whispered.
“Katakuri,” Sanji said, “My friend.”
“How did he get so big?”
“Long story,” Sanji replied, handing him a funnel cake, “For some other time maybe.”
---
By the end of the festival, Katakuri had helped the children make a pumpkin snowman in the town square, guaranteeing that Katakuri would have to return to remove the giant pumpkins later. He had managed to strike up conversations with a few of the braver adults in the village, promising to assist with one of the upcoming harvests and to move a woman’s garden plot to a sunnier side of the yard. He kept his scarf up the entire evening, though Sanji caught him more than once look longingly over at Sanji’s stall where he was busy making funnel cakes throughout the festival. When the church bells rang at 10 PM, and most of the children were being carried by their parents back home, Katakuri came to sit down heavily next to Sanji as he and Pudding cleaned up.
“Are you glad you came?” Sanji asked.
“Very,” Katakuri replied, putting his arms around his legs and propping his chin on his knees. Sanji packed up the last of his supplies, placing them on their cart, which Pudding began wheeling back toward the Baratie. Sanji sat next to Katakuri, smiling at the pieces of candy the village’s children had tucked in Katakuri’s thick, fluffy scarf. Beloved.
“Thank you,” Katakuri said softly, after a peaceful quiet moment.
“For forcing you to come to this festival?” Sanji laughed.
“For… for everything,” Katakuri replied, “For finding me and befriending me and not letting me remain alone.”
“Oh,” Sanji said, feeling an ache in his bones at the sudden sadness in Katakuri’s voice, “You don’t… it’s my pleasure, Katakuri.”
“You saved me, Sanji,” he said, “And I can offer you nothing in return.”
“Stop it,” Sanji hissed, “Stop that right now.” Nothing in return? Seeing Katakuri had become the highlight of his days, their evenings spent together something Sanji looked forward to as soon as he woke up every morning. Companionship, friendship, attachment. Affection.
Without overthinking the rising tide in his chest, he climbed onto Katakuri’s lap and put a careful hand on his scarf. Katakuri froze, eyes wide, muscles tense. Sanji pulled the scarf down, revealing Katakuri’s mouth, and leaned forward, touching his lips to Katakuri’s slack bottom lip.
Katakuri’s lip was soft. Sanji’s face fitting perfectly between the jagged canines that he knew were sharp enough to make him bleed with the slightest pressure. He kissed Katakuri’s bottom lip, then moved to the top lip, cradling Katakuri’s face in his hands. When he ran out of breath, he pulled back to make sure he hadn’t ruined everything, but Katakuri’s eyes were so very warm.
“Sanji,” he breathed out, “Sanji.”
“That’s my name,” Sanji said weakly, glad that Katakuri was now supporting him from behind. Katakuri leaned forward and placed a gentle kiss on Sanji’s forehead.
“In the span of a few months, you have become my world,” he said quietly, “I am happy enough just being by your side, but can I take this to mean you… care for me as more than a friend?”
“No, I’m just in a habit of kissing my friends on the lips,” Sanji replied, very carefully leaving kisses on the march of stitch marks going up Katakuri’s cheek, then nipped at Katakuri’s ear, enjoying the shiver that wrung out of the man.
“You will be the death of me one day,” Katakuri said, pulling Sanji close, his large hand protective on Sanji’s back. Sanji buried his face in the soft scarf by Katakuri’s neck, arms coming up to grip Katakuri tightly.
They sat for a while, both still and motionless, barely breathing. Katakuri was a much-needed warmth on a cool autumn evening. Sanji couldn’t remember the last time he felt so safe. Then, Sanji turned his head quickly when he heard Pudding’s giggle.
“You two are in the middle of the street,” she said, a twinkle in her eye.
“Right,” Sanji said, looking around to see if anybody was peeking at them from the windows, “Time and place.” He wriggled in Katakuri’s grip, and the man reluctantly let him go. Hopping down off Katakuri’s lap, he gave Pudding a quick hug.
“I’m walking your dumb brother home,” he said, “But I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“If you don’t show up in the morning, I can handle it,” she winked.
“Careful, I can easily get another assistant baker,” Sanji glared, cheeks heating up. She stuck her tongue out at him and walked toward her house on the other side of the village, waving cheerfully at her brother as she left.
“Carry me, servant,” Sanji said, raising his arms in the air, “I would like to ride on your shoulder.”
“I thought you said you were walking me home, not the other way around,” Katakuri grumbled, nevertheless picking Sanji up and putting him on his shoulder. Sanji gripped tightly onto Katakuri’s scarf, unsteady when Katakuri began moving, but soon getting used to the rolling gait.
“It is fun to see the world from up here,” he said, leaning forward every so often to leave a firm kiss on Katakuri’s temple, “Being cursed isn’t so bad when you get to lord it over tiny beings on the ground.”
“If I had met you years ago, perhaps you could have broken my curse,” Katakuri said quietly.
“I like your cursed self,” Sanji laughed, “Big grumpy beast, just like in your romance novel.”
“Are you considering yourself a beauty?”
“Obviously, have you seen me?” Sanji snorted.
Katakuri laughed, loud and true, and scooped Sanji off his shoulder, holding him up to his face.
“I suppose you are quite beautiful,” he said, scrutinizing Sanji, who responded by putting his hands over Katakuri’s eyes and kissing the very tip of his nose.
“Let’s go home,” he said softly, “You didn’t get to eat anything tonight, I’ll make you something delicious. Something sweet.”
Gorgeous collab art with dear Thi! <3