Chapter Text
i.
The sea is calm and the sky is blue. It's been quite eventful since they endured an unwavering tempest this past week, and the crew is coming out of it more shaken up than any of them cares to admit. Nami especially, once she was absolutely certain that the ocean was finally calm, locked herself up in the girls quarters and demanded that no one bother her until she emerges. Sanji loathes this, but word made its way around to him that if he really wants to take care of his precious mellorine, he should let Robin take care of everything and let Nami rest for a while. He comforts himself by preparing sweet, nutritious collations the archeologue is eager to bring back to Nami. Only Luffy could be this energetic after the exhausting week they’ve all experienced. As proof, the ship seems like it's on a hiatus, stuck in a silent slumber. It seems like Usopp and Chopper went to take a nap, and Franky is quickly making some revisions to the Thousand Sunny to ensure that the tempest didn’t do too much damage. Zoro, who somehow was able to sleep soundly for a good part of the week, was put on watch duty through joint resolution. Brook seems to have joined Luffy to let go of some of the stress accumulated throughout the week.
There’s only himself left, scrutinizing the pantries to find sudden inspiration - there’s no way he’ll make something quick and dirty, since they’ve eaten on the go all week because of the waves.
His eyes stop on the aluminum foil that’s unwound on the kitchen counter, and he makes up his mind. If he wants to cook something that takes time, then a slow cook with a fat fish is suitable. The elephant-salmon swimming diligently in the aquarium will have to do, and there should be some potatoes to roast left in the cellar.
With a final momentum, Sanji rolls up his sleeves and readies himself to get cooking. He’ll collapse only when the ship’s crew is fed, and maybe then he’ll have enough peace to close his eyes and end their endless aching. A glance at the clock and he decides he can take one last smoke before getting to work.
“Oi.”
Zoro’s voice makes his head spin and Sanji raises his unique brow, hand stopped in the air on its way to his cigarettes.
“Marimo. Aren’t you supposed to keep guard?”
As per his usual, Zoro isn’t talkative and delays answering the questions he’s asked. That’s the kind of thing that annoys the cook. Sanji readies himself to continue with a well placed verbal jab - he may be tired but not enough to let Zoro’s bad manners slide - but he’s stopped in his momentum by the swordsman’s gesture.
He awkwardly holds out a ball of fabric with both of his arms, as if presenting Sanji with a gift or a ticking bomb. His expression is stoic, even sullen, but Sanji could swear there’s unease in his movements.
“Here. It’s bothering me.”
Taken aback, almost by reflex, Sanji grabs the fabric. It’s hot, kind of heavy and has a strange but reassuring scent. It’s only when he feels the package wriggling that he realizes that what Zoro is handing to him is not just a simple piece of fabric, but something alive . Sanji yelps in a way that makes him want to throw himself into the sea and be eaten by a sea monster. Zoro, who has not missed a piece of it, has the good spirit to snicker and turn around, leaving the cook alone with his surprise.
A babble rises from the ball of fabric, and Sanji, raising the flap of the improvised swaddle, can only face the facts.
In his arms, there’s a baby.
The roar of frustration that resonates in the kitchen is soon followed by the toddler’s shrieks.
The sea is calm, the sky is blue, and the Thousand Sunny has a new passenger.
ii.
“Where did that kid come from?”
Zoro’s face clearly shows how irritated he is. He’s sitting cross-legged on the deck, arms crossed, in his favorite position. You would think he’s preparing to take a nap, but that would be without taking into account that half of the crew is gathered around him and that the baby’s unbearable shrieking renders all sleep impossible.
“From the crow’s nest.”
Sanji grits his teeth and throws a desperate look to Robin. He has a murderous desire to hit the first mate with his foot in order to extract an answer that would make sense, but the baby that howls and struggles in his arms, monopolizingall of his attention and physical effort. How can a small human being be so unbearable? Now is not the day Sanji will get his answer.
Franky, more sensitive than Robin to Sanji’s supplications, adds himself to the interrogation, aware that there’s a pressing need of mediation in the absence of Nami’s natural authority.
“Zoro-bro, what Sanji-cook is trying to ask you is how it appeared on the ship. Don’t you have the smallest idea?”
Zoro grumbles and scowls at them, just to make them understand he knows he’s being taken as an idiot and doesn’t appreciate it at all.
“I was sleeping. It was in my arms when I woke up. What more do you want me to say?”
Robin has a light laugh that is enough to soften Sanji, but he’s still near to gutting the swordsman. After all, Zoro doesn’t really seem to have grasped the gravity of the situation. A child doesn’t just appear on a pirate ship at sea. They could have another stowaway, or worse, other babies. The archeologist frees him from his noisy burden and attempts in turn to calm the newborn down. Her eyes are staring vacantly, as she does when she’s thinking out loud.
“I doubt that anyone could clandestinely survive the storm we’ve faced.”
Franky looks at her rocking the baby that doesn’t seem to let go and goes instinctively to grab his tools, always practical. If they’re going to welcome a child, even temporarily, then they better be prepared and render the Sunny babyproof. As for solving the mystery of the baby’s appearance, he fully trusts Robin. Sanji rummages briefly in his vest to find his pack of cigarettes, his attention focused on Robin exploring theories.
“It is said that the sea gives as much as it takes”, she continues. “Maybe this baby was born from the foam…”
Zoro can’t help himself snorting at the mention of this legend. He knows that the sea can be miraculous, but outright birthing a human being? It’s a stretch.
“Yeah right. So we just spent seven days in a violent childbirth, then?”
On his side, Sanji is rather charmed by the idea. The baby’s cries go off a little, but not enough for the swordsman, who stands up and motions Robin to give him the child. He removes some of the cloth and presses the newborn against his torso, in a delicate manner that is unlike him.
“An infant of the sea…” mutters Sanji dreamily. “I would’ve liked a siren better.”
The atmosphere is suddenly quiet enough for him to hear Zoro’s low growl who must be calling him deep down a total pervert. The baby has stopped crying in Zoro’s arms and is peacefully chewing its tongue, eyes half closed and still a sulky look on its face. There’s a general sigh of relief, and Sanji plays with his lighter to light up a cigarette.
It’s Zoro’s low and accusatory voice that stops him, as the green-haired man stares at him dryly, holding their visitor in an inquisitive manner.
“No cigarettes near kids.”
And for once, as a shiver travels across his back, Sanji obeys.
iii.
Preventing Luffy from winding the baby up is not an easy task, and Sanji finds himself protecting Zoro from their captain’s persistent assault with energic swings of his leg. Luffy was informed of the situation but seems more interested in the miraculous being than by the theories that surround its existence; in all likelihood he would like to throw it in the air and catch it. Obviously it’s out of the question, especially since they’ve only had a few minutes of silence up until then and Sanji would very much not have to endure this hearing hell again, thank you very much.
On his side, Brook is already composing a lullaby, with a soft melody that tells horrible tales as is customary with all lullabies people sing to children. Sanji quivers when he hears Zoro joining in a low voice, still burdened with the newborn, following through awkwardly with a rocking movement. It’s a strange vision that agitates Sanji, as if he isn't wanted there. The scene feels too strange for him, and his hand nervously feels the pocket where he puts his cigarettes, before reminding himself it would be good for him not to indulge in his toxic pleasure.
With a glance, he realizes that everyone is busying themselves to welcome the newborn in the best way and he turns around towards the kitchen, his domain, to go do what he knows best.
Zoro nearly offends Chopper when the reindeer joins them in the lounge and is forbidden from examining the child. Zoro knows that the blame will fall to him if someone tries to bother the newborn again, so he suggests that Chopper does some research on what kind of care can be given to an infant.
Brook is now complaining that he doesn’t have a name to refer to the newcomer, and thus cannot find a proper verse end to his nursery rhyme. To find a suitable name, Robin starts to leaf through a genealogy book, and Luffy assists her by suggesting stupid names.
“We could call them Diagueli! Chicken! Carrot!”
“Is it a girl or a boy?” asks Chopper innocently.
Usopp, who has anointed himself a judge of Luffy’s suggestions, clicks his tongue to the question, slightly sulky.
“We could avoid referring to them according to some genitals, right?”
Robin raises her gaze to him and smiles while remembering the passionate discussion she once had with Usopp on masculine and feminine, and how he announced he fought the original God and Goddess, thus freeing himself from the gender binary. He must have come up with many other stories to satisfy his nakama’s curiosity. She can’t wait to hear the next one.
“Oh no, you’re right. Incidentally, the sea is mostly feminine in mythology… If it’s a child of the sea, maybe she can be a girl for now?”
The sniper’s smile is encouraging and she starts browsing through her book again.
The baby’s breathing momentarily draws Zoro away from the conversation. He feels the warmth of the small body joining him, and it doesn’t take much more for him to decide that this would be a perfect time and position to fall asleep, there, against the cold glass of their aquarium.
As feminine names are thrown on both sides, he falls asleep, arms tightly coiled around the small magic gift the sea bestowed them.
When Sanji gets back to the group, the atmosphere is strangely tranquil. Luffy plays around by drawing on the aquarium with his boogers - absolutely disgusting, but honestly there’s nothing to be expected from their captain when it applies to manners - Usopp and Chopper are whispering and sometimes the reindeer breaks into small amazed cries, and Robin is having fun relating Borok a bunch of marvelous stories about drowned sailors at sea.
He readies himself to announce aloud that the meal will be ready in a while, but he stops himself when he understands the origin of this muted, almost serene ambience. Surrounded by the lads, the mosshead sleeps peacefully, as usual, but this time he is accompanied by the newborn and that grants him an unsettling aura of plenitude and gentleness. It’s a delicate bubble, that no one around really dares to disturb, and everyone accommodates themselves to it in their own way.
Sanji twitches. He doesn’t understand Zoro’s ease around this child. He doesn’t understand how this brute and arrogant force can protect so naturally, as if things went without saying. He would lie if he said he had never seen Zoro like this - often with Luffy, Zoro behaves like having his captain’s back and embracing his impulsivity was his reason to live. It’s like an instinct. Yeah, Luffy is a child , but with Luffy it’s different. With Luffy it’s understandable. It’s special. But with this baby, Sanji doesn’t understand.
Luffy jerks up his head, as if he had sensed that Sanji was thinking about him. He stares at the baby for a second, then announces with a glowing smile.
“Her name is Naia!”
Just for a moment, Sanji thinks he sees the sleeping kid smile.
Maybe it’s a good omen, after all.
iv.
If the meal is chaotic, from Zoro's point of view it’s going quite well. The foil-wrapped cooked elephant-salmon are delicious and the sauce from their fat matches wonderfully with the roasted potatoes. With a light growl, he conveys his contentment - he hopes Sanji heard that, but he’s busy preparing the dessert. With his right hand, Zoro wipes his mouth in an ungraceful move, and with his left hand he holds Naia firmly who is wedged in place against him and babbles, after drinking an improvised feeding bottle from Sanji.
Naia. The little girl is adorable, as much as a baby can be. To be frank, Zoro never wanted a newborn’s company. Most of the time even, he does his best to ignore the existence of these small creatures. It’s rather simple: he had no reason to be directly or indirectly near a toddler, and didn’t think this would happen for a long time. Seems like he was wrong.
The crew seems to have decided that since the kid feels better near Zoro, then he will assume the main responsibility of her care. It doesn’t bother him that much. He sees that everyone around him goes out of their way to make sure he only has to carry her, and that the rest is taken care of. And for that matter, doesn’t a baby spend most of its time sleeping? They surely will get along alright.
Sanji comes close carrying the desserts, and Zoro takes advantage of the opportunity to stare at him ostensibly. An inner quiet settles in him and he absent-mindedly strokes Naia’s tiny delicate head. He often wonders why he likes the brash personality of their cook. Surely because despite all the signs he sends, he—
“There you go, marimo. Floating island with elderberry syrup.”
Much to his surprise, his gaze, which has not strayed from the cook, meets the light smile on his face. Naia’s babble doesn't manage to cover the sound of his beating heart resonating in his temples, and it’s not the little girl’s warmth that spreads through his stomach. He’s speechless, his mouth dry, with the sudden feeling that the whole table is staring at him. Of course it’s not the case. Sanji has already turned away to lovingly take care of Nami’s fortifying meal. Usopp has a custard mustache. Robin plays with her elder syrup to redden the “sea” of her dessert. Chopper has already finished eating his dessert and is asking for seconds, along with Luffy who is also trying to pilfer from Nami’s very generous bento.
Naia wriggles and Zoro lowers his eyes to her.
“You’ve seen the same thing as me, haven't you?”
Of course she doesn’t answer. But he’s sure she approves.
Sanji smiled at him. He thought it would never happen, but today the world seems keen on proving him wrong.
Maybe it’s a good omen, after all.
Once the meal is cleaned up, the crew readies itself for the night. Brook is taking the responsibility to handle the look-out while the group tries to recover from the tumultuous events that shook them (quite literally). Zoro is in charge of replacing him in the middle of the night, even if the skeleton insisted that he didn’t need to sleep “because after all, he was already dead”. Sanji takes the opportunity to inquire with Chopper about the food he will need to have in stock to prepare feeding bottles that are nutritious enough for Naia. They decide together that the doctor will have to try to examine her tomorrow to check whether she is in perfect health. It’s the first time they’re having a child this young on the boat, and Sanji can feel it’s worrying the small reindeer.
The whole crew is feeling responsible for the security of this small life, and they know deep down that a boat is not a baby’s place. Who knows what could happen? A newborn is so delicate. Sanji shivers at the thought that Luffy could play a bit too hard with Naia, drop her, or just catch her a bit brutally… He trusts his captain’s intent but knows that his energy sometimes needs to be restrained. Fortunately, Luffy seems to be well-behaved. Usopp seems to be taking care of that, his anxiety getting the upper hand on his amazement.
The night’s cool atmosphere covers the ship, and Sanji is finishing his cigarette on the afterdeck. He lets the smoke be carried away by the light breeze that roze at the start of the evening. In the end, it will have been his only smoke of the day - he fought the urge to smoke to please Zoro’s inquisitive gaze. His eyes course through the waves beating gently against the hull. The sea is dark but calm, its lapping familiar.
“Don’t be late going to bed, cook-san. You haven’t had any rest since the storm calmed down.”
A soft smile creeps onto the cook’s lips and he turns toward the friend who takes a place alongside him. She doesn’t seem so worried, but he knows she’s right. He has a tendency to overwork for his friends, and she’s here to remind him not to do too much.
“You’re too considerate, dear Robin. I should tell you the same. You’ve been pampering Nami-swan all day. Do you think she’ll have recovered soon?
Robin returns his smile and leans on the railing, and gazes at the ship that grows quieter and quieter. There’s no doubt the following days will be full of life, and this evening is but a rest in their daily life.
“She should be emerging tomorrow. I’m quite afraid our small stowaway will put her in a bad mood, but it’s nothing that a good breakfast can’t heal.”
With a muffled sound of approval, Sanji ends his cigarette and lazily grabs the archeologist’s hand to kiss it. She giggles from the gallant gesture. The move is familiar, easy, practiced a thousand times, one of which forms rituals in their relationship of trust.
“Message well received, my lady. With that, I hope that you have a wonderful night.”
He returns to the men’s quarters whistling, in a light step. He’s always honored to have these moments with the young lady, whose company warms his heart. He missed that. And among Franky and Chopper whispering and Zoro and Luffy snoring, Sanji falls asleep quickly, the fatigue catching up almost immediately.
v.
“Oi. Cook. Curly brow.”
Sanji is woken up in the middle of the night by a low voice and a warm hand shaking his shoulder. The atmosphere is humid in the boy’s room, burdened by the slumber in which the exhaustion put them. The dream that occupied his mind is drifting away, and he finds it difficult to wake up, despite the soft grasp on his shoulder. He grumbles for a bit, half-opens his eyes, pushes back the lock of hair that sticks to his forehead, feeling mushy. His mind sinks back into sleep. He’s so tired.
“ Sanji.”
“What…”
A hot breath brushes his face and Zoro is here, close, way too close in the shadows. The thought makes him jump, immediately wakes him up for good. Leaning over his hammock, Zoro frowns but doesn’t seem in a hurry, despite the annoyance in his voice. Sanji is bewildered, not knowing why. He’s used to proximity with the swordsman, as well as with the whole crew to be fair. But something is different tonight. Blinking rapidly, he’s about to lecture him about waking him up, but he finally understands what Zoro wants out of him when he gently drops a hot swaddle in the crook of his arms. Naia is asleep, her small tuft of light blue hair coming out of the cloth.
“I’m taking Brook’s place for watch duty. Take her.”
The warm package in his arms renders him slightly uncomfortable and self-conscious of his awkward position. She’s so small. Sanji’s fingers fiddle idly with the light fabric that is wrapped around her. She’s warm. She’s a small miracle. Rustling from Zoro draws his eyes back to him. He’s looking for something on his side. His hands come to shim a piece of cloth between Sanji and the baby. Sanji’s breathing stops for a few seconds as he feels his comrades' knuckles brush against his torso, and his heart misses a beat when he realizes what he’s left them.
His mouth opens, his surprised expression only being answered with a growl that wants to appear indifferent.
“She seems to sleep better with me, so.”
Zoro’s hand detaches from his shoulder, leaving an empty feeling behind. He throws a last glance at them, along with something that the cook cannot decipher, and leaves to his duties. Bereft, Sanji’s fingers skim the black bandana nested between him and Naia. It’s just a piece of fabric, but she does indeed look more at ease with it. A small hand comes and grabs the black cotton, and Sanji closes his eyes hard. It’s just a piece of fabric, he echoes. A piece of fabric that only has use when Zoro decides he’s serious and ready to die for a fight, this suicidal idiot marimo.
As he breathes deeply to calm down his heart and try to regain the lethargy of sleep, he bites his tongue. He knows what is different. The newborn’s sweet smell blends in with the swordsman’s. Deep, very deep inside, his stomach twists just a bit. Maybe he likes this new side of Zoro. Maybe.
A very small juvenile sigh of contentment echoes against his torso and makes him close his eyes. It’s the baby’s fault, he’s sure. She’s the one that softens anyone that gets close after all. The sentence echoes in Sanji’s as he sinks again in sleep. Yes, it’s all the baby’s fault.