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Sanji is a smoker. This is about as much fact as it is Luffy liking meat: unchangeable, and if it were to change, you've got yourself confirmation that the soul does not match the body.
What may not be so known is this: Sanji liked to smoke next to the Merry's figurehead when sleepless nights hit him. There wasn't a particular reason, all things considered: he just found himself doing it one night and discovered he found it calming.
There was usually someone on guard duty up on the crow's nest. Nami or Robin on lucky days, he'd wave and give them a heart shape with his arms so they didn't forget they were loved. On unlucky ones, Luffy would show up with stolen meat, and somehow Sanji would have it in him to smile as he chased him down the ship.
Brook would always play music (be it with acoustic guitar or violin), and Sanji would close his eyes just to let the sound soothe him. He talked about healthy diets with Chopper and listened to Usopp's stories. Talked kitchen structures with Franky, peppered in with stories of beautiful women they'd met.
More often than not, though, it would be Moss who appeared on the crow's nest.
Though outsiders may say it didn't look like it, neither were moronic enough to pick fights while one was on guard duty– they did care about the crew's safety above everything, after all. He'd usually wait until the morning, when he refused to mop the deck like Nami-swan so kindly ordered him to again.
So those nights Sanji would simply look to the ocean instead.
The first time they actually talked was after Thriller Bark, once their home changed but Sanji kept up the habit nonetheless. They made eye contact by sheer luck, and Moss took it as a chance to make a drinking gesture with his hand. He pointed to the kitchen with his thumb, and Sanji rolled his eyes, too damn tired to put up a fight. He picked the heaviest bottle he had, and threw it at him as soon as he'd climbed enough up the nest. Moss caught it without even looking away from the window.
He tsk'd. "Damn Eyebrows," Moss muttered as he opened it.
"Please, it's not like it's fizzy," Sanji muttered back, leaving the stairs to open a window so the musclebrain wouldn't suffocate.
Once there was enough fresh air and quiet, he lit up a new cigarette. "So, are your injuries healed yet?"
Moss finished his swig before answering. "What, are you worried about me?"
"No," Sanji said, with only a small sliver of truth. "But it'd be good to know."
"Oh, you'll know," he could hear Moss' shitty smile. "Watch for a sword going for your skull. That's how."
Sanji calmly inhaled smoke. "Expect strong facial bruising, then."
They fell into smooth silence. What tiredness does to people.
Moss nursed his drink as Sanji watched the stars, and, funnily enough, Sanji didn't mind it. He blamed the Vinsmokes nightmare that landed him outside in the first place.
From the corner of his eye, he saw Marimo holding one of his swords– the white one, Wado Ichimonji , was it?– a little closer.
It's always that one, Sanji noted, thinking back to all the times Moss slept on deck. The sword would always be planted where his hands could reach, while the other two would be tucked by his haramaki. Is there a reason?
Sanji was not the type to meddle. He knew as well as anyone that many don't paint their pasts with bold letters, and usually its for good reason. Despite this, he still remembered how Zoro didn't hesitate to face Mihawk. How, by some miracle, Wado had survived its wielder's journey when the other two swords have changed multiple times by now.
How, just a few days ago, Zoro had been inches away from death, somehow still firm in the midst of a pool of his own blood.
Just where did any of that resolve come from?
Sanji sighed, watching cigarette smoke leave into the night. It shook away an image of grass painted red.
It's not like I'm any better, he thought, I was about to, and still would, do the damn same.
The crew first. The crew always first. They were his family, the one that gave his dream a chance along with a new sense in life. It was a lifelong debt, he understood that much.
Damn that shitty swordsman.
Two years from now, they'd be leaving Wano and be in a similar situation to tonight's. The change wouldn't be much, save for a promise remaining in the air, and the name 'Vinsmoke' would be fading away in ashes.
By then, it would only be a matter of time before the name "Kuina" was mentioned for the first time, and Sanji's first thought would be Wado Ichimonji, the sword that never left Zoro's side.
Sanji wasn't one to meddle, but it didn't mean he wouldn't wonder from time to time.
For now, though, there was another matter.
Sanji looked away from the stars and turned to Moss. "Did you start using the gym again? I thought I heard metal swinging this morning."
Moss raised an eyebrow. "Yeah. What about it?"
While injured. Unbelievable. "Chopper's gonna kill you . "
The moron shrugged. "Let him try." He turned over the now-near-empty bottle for drops, and said with impossible sincerity: "It'll be good training."
Sanji rubbed the bridge of his nose and splayed his hand. "That's not the point , dumbass–"