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It was quiet on the Thousand Sunny, only just past midnight. Waves lapped at the side of the ship, a dull white noise to the silence of the night. The ship deck was illuminated by the light of the moon, full once again.
At this hour, all crew members were in their beds, sleeping soundly for the night. All except for one— because you were on lookout watch that particular night.
While it was normally Zoro who would volunteer for lookout, he was still recovering after his brutal fight against King, no matter how fine he claimed to be. When Chopper had asserted how important rest was, Zoro finally agreed— not listening because he was the ship’s doctor, but because he was like a little brother to Zoro… and he had trouble refusing Chopper. Because of this, all crew members had to take extra shifts on lookout, and you were assigned to tonight.
You didn’t really complain— sure, it was boring and you didn’t necessarily want to be awake so late into the night while you yourself were still recovering after such a large fight, but it gave you much needed quiet time. You were perched in the crow’s nest, curled up with Robin’s new literary recommendation: a classic fantasy novel with imaginative locations and a colorful cast of characters. It followed a young woman who had been cursed to be an old lady, setting out to break the curse and stumbling upon the home of a powerful wizard. The story continued to engross you; the young wizard had begun to succumb to his curse, losing his ability to turn human, while the girl is determined to find a way— any way— to break his curse.
Illuminated by the light of the moon, the pages were just bright enough to make out the words. Every few paragraphs you would take a glance outside the window to make sure there was nothing in sight but the sea.
This was how you expected to spend your shift for the next few hours. It was only you and the stars in the sky. But that was all interrupted by the sound of someone ascending the ropes and opening the hatch to the crow’s nest. And what you certainly were not expecting, was to see was a peek of long, soft, blonde hair, looking particularly golden in the moonlight.
You didn’t say anything as Sanji entered— you didn’t know what to say. He should’ve been long sleeping by now, as he always gets up earliest of any crew members. He carried a small, metal tray with him, stopping halfway before fully entering. Tired eyes met yours. “I brought you some coffee and cookies.” His voice was uncharacteristically low and plain. Normally, he would’ve been full of flowery language, reduced to a blushing mess at the sight of you— but he wasn’t. He hadn’t been for some time now. Not since the battle at Onigashima.
“Come on in. The company is always nice,” you smiled at him. You weren’t lying— you loved his company, especially the quiet, private moments when he would join you on lookout. You always knew you should usher him back to bed, but you couldn’t help but be a bit selfish and keep his company for just a breath longer. But his company had evaded you the last few weeks. After Wano, he had doted on you less and less. If you didn’t know better, you would say he was avoiding you entirely— a difficult act when on a secluded ship.
He entered slowly, his movements slower and looser than he normally was, though he still kept his precision, making sure not to spill anything. When he held the coffee out to you, saying nothing, his face was hung ever so slightly down, just enough to shield his face from the moonlight. As you took the beverage from his hands, you noticed a nearly imperceptible shaking within them before they quickly retreated.
Once you had your drink, Sanji moved a few places away from you to take his own seat. Normally, he would have taken the seat directly next to where you sat. He always used the excuse that it was ‘too cold for someone as lovely as you to be up here alone!’ and you never minded. He never invaded your personal space when he did; but now, he was distancing himself like he was afraid to sit by you. To be with you.
The mug was warm on your cold hands, and the coffee smelled rich and aromatic. As you took a slow sip, it warmed your insides and brought a sense of comfort you had missed. “Perfectly brewed as always, Sanji. Thank you.”
He didn’t respond. You studied him in the silence. Normally, he was tall and slim, making sure to have impeccable posture, carrying an air of laid-back professionalism. His silhouette would be crisp and sleek. But that was not the case right now. He was leaned over, elbows resting on his knees. He held a cigarette, occasionally bringing it to his lips, his hands still shaking when he did. He held the smoke inside his lungs, before he exhaled, letting the smoke fall from his mouth. You tried to read his face— when he wasn’t taking a drag of the cigarette, his lips were pressed together, his jaw clenched. His spiral brows were furrowed, no anger or malice in his expression. There was only fear and anxiety. It sent a chill down your spine to see the expression laid so plainly on the cook’s face.
Turning away, you started, “You…” not knowing quite what you wanted to say. You didn’t look at him, but you knew Sanji still didn’t move. “…You haven’t been speaking to me much ever since we left Wano. I know you’ve been avoiding me. And… I’m sure you have your reasons.” The question ‘Why?’ had been beating at your skull for weeks, now.
When he heard, Sanji’s head perked up. His fingers loosened around the cigarette like he wanted to drop it and reach out to you instead. Words escaped him and he thought if he was to open his mouth, nothing would come forth, but maybe touch would provide your answer. Maybe it would better convey how much he missed your presence, your scent, your comfort. But he only bit his lip, his muscles remained frozen.
You felt the need to fill the silence, “I tried asking around because… I guess I didn’t want to bother you by asking. No one really knew, except for maybe Zoro. But he just gave some insults and a vague answer, saying it would be better to just talk to you about it. And if you don’t want to, you don’t have to. I just want to know… are you okay?”
Finally, your eyes met his, and the sight weighed on your heart. There wasn’t a shred of anger, or even malice you’d normally expect at the mention of the swordsman. No, they were glossy and wide and sorrowful; apologetic, and pitiful. They were full of regret at what he had just heard. He knew he had been avoiding you, and he had a reason— a good reason, he thought— but the idea that it was causing you distress made an even larger pit form in his stomach. He couldn’t bear to keep your gaze any longer, lest it cause him to break.
Sanji’s head hung low again. He quietly set the cigarette down on the metal tray. ‘So he is avoiding me,’ you briefly thought to yourself. You weren’t mad— mostly confused— but quickly resolved to accept the matter. If he didn’t want to speak to you right now, so be it.
Sanji swallowed and quietly began, “M-Mellorine…” His voice was shaking, and the pet name was used more to calm his own nerves than out of the usual affection. “Can I ask for a favor…?” He sounded distant, like he wasn’t sure if he should even be asking this. His hands began fidgeting.
You didn’t respond, opting to leave the open silence as an invitation for him to continue. Even if he had been avoiding you, you and Sanji knew each other well enough, and he picked up on it.
“I’m not sure if I still…” ‘…feel,’ his thoughts finished. “May I request…” his voice trailed off. “Can I ask…” struggling to get the words out, all avenues seemed to be dead ends. He ran his hand through his hair, gently tugging at the roots. The way his heart hammered in his chest, he thought you would be able to hear it through the silence of the crow’s nest.
You waited, patient, giving him the time he needed.
“Will you hold me… just for a moment?”
Sanji’s eyes were somber and terrified, trained on his hands. He heard no movement from you; no denial, but no acceptance either. You stayed planted in your seat.
At that, Sanji knew he had crossed a line. Avoiding you for weeks just to make a request like that when you were the one that needed answers? What was he thinking? How selfish could he be? If you didn’t hate him minutes ago, surely you did now, and he would swear up and down that it was deserved. He had no right to be talking to you, to have ever spoken to you— you were too too kind, too gentle, too bright, too angelic, too perfect. You were everything he wasn’t, and he had no place or ground to ever even look at you. He could never been enough for you. He had never been enough for anyone. His thoughts raced with regret at everything he had said and done, but he couldn’t take it back.
The silence was deafening to him. He wanted to look at you and gauge your reaction— were you looking at him with contempt? Offense? Maybe you would at least offer him pity, even if he didn’t believe he deserved it.
If Sanji had managed to bring his eyes to meet yours, he would see the tears brimming in your eyes, threatening to fall. When you heard his request, your entire body froze. The sight had completely broken you. You had seen Sanji beat up, worried, tired, but never like this. He looked scared. His voice was distant and weak. Like a child asking for his mother.
Sanji waited. Before, he had hoped you would take pity even if he didn’t deserve it. But now he needed a reaction, any reaction. Anxiety rising, fingernails dug into skin.
“Actually, just… forget I said anything—“
Sanji was interrupted when he was quickly in your arms. Taken back for a moment, his body quickly responded to the warmth you provided. He let out a shaky breath, one he didn’t realize he had been holding. His eyes shut tightly as he buried his head in the crook of your neck. His arms wrapped around you. His hold felt desperate. His fingers gripped at the fabric of your shirt to ground himself that he was there, that you were there. His entire body leaned into your presence, soothing him in a way he hadn’t felt in weeks.
Sanji’s eyes watered as he let out shaky sobs into you. “I’m scared…” You didn’t say anything— there was nothing you could say. You simply kept your arms wrapped around his back. He smelled of fresh pastries and smoke— the latter of which used to bother you but you grew to enjoy the scent, associating it with the cook.
The two of you stayed like that for a few moments.
“At Wano, I…” he collected his thoughts. “When I first used the raid suit, I didn’t think much of it. And then in my fight against Queen, he kept begging me to wear that damned suit again. I refused to be associated with those bastards so I destroyed it. But… even then, in the fight… I didn’t feel right. My entire body felt off. I brushed off attacks like they were nothing. Even a sword shattered when it hit me. Its like I was one of my brothers.”
He felt stiff in your arms as he spoke.
“But then, I…” images flashed in Sanji’s mind when he saw the geisha, wound on her head, with nothing but terror in her eyes at the sight of him. It made his stomach churn. “I’m so terrified I’m going to lose myself. I don’t want to turn into one of those cold-blooded monsters.” His thoughts cascaded forward, an endless stream as his mind raced with terror. He had kept this all bottled up for weeks, and he finally felt secure enough to let it all out. “My mother, she… she sacrificed everything to try and save us… and I was the only one who… but what if it was all for nothing? My father resented me for it all. He blamed me for what happened to her, for me being… imperfect. But what happens if I turn out like my siblings? What if my heart really freezes over; if I lose my emotions? What if I can’t feel anymore? I don’t want to—…”
“Hey, hey… it’s okay,” your voice was light and gentle as you traced shapes on his back with your finger. While you wanted to give him the space to properly process everything, you understood now that he needed an intervention before he got too in his own head. “Try to take some deep breaths. You really are strong, have I told you that?” You had, many times. But that was usually about his physical strength and prowess, and it would always reduce him to a stammering, blushing mess. But not this time.
“I only beat Queen because of Vinsmoke technology, and I would’ve been killed by Black Maria if it wasn’t for Robin. I didn’t do anything.”
Oh, if only he could see the irony of it all. He needed to see it from your perspective. But he refused to listen to any praise or compliments. Sanji was sweet to you, but he could be surprisingly stubborn, meaning you needed to go about this differently.
Contemplating for a moment, “There’s someone I know…” you started. “And I know how much he cares about his crew. And he puts the weight of the world on his shoulders because of it. I don’t even know if he realizes. He’s so sweet without even trying. He doesn’t want to see anyone get hurt, not even this stupid green-haired swordsman that he hates.” He gave a lighthearted scoff at the last part. You pulled back from him to look him in the eyes. Yours were so soft and comforting to his gaze, and his were shifting from terrified to tired.
“But I want him to understand something. I want to tell him this because I need him to know: ‘We all feel the same way about you. We don’t want to see you hurt. You’re so, so strong. You’re tough, and brave. You’re kind, and gentle, and good-natured. You’re a good person—the kind I wish I could be sometimes. You put everyone before yourself, even if it scares me. Your strength is your kindness. You take such good care of us, and you mean so much to all of us. We care too much about you to ever let something like that happen.’” You played with his hair as you spoke, a sensation you knew Sanji always found soothing.
“Could you pass that message on for me? To one of the best people I know; he’s the greatest cook in all the East Blue and probably the entire Grand Line. Maybe you know him, his name is Sanji.”
His name sounded so much sweeter in your voice. It didn’t seem necessary, but you had to guarantee that Sanji knew you were talking about him. You knew him, and you knew he wouldn’t believe you were speaking so kindly of him. But he could make no mistake about it, now.
It was all so much for the boy to process, so he dipped his head back to your shoulder. He wanted to protest at your compliments. After the fight in Wano, he couldn’t believe a single word of it. But as much as he wanted to fight back, he couldn’t bring himself to. You let him stay there for a while longer, stroking his hair, feeling vibrations from shaky exhalations.
You pulled back again, bringing a hand to his cheek, wiping away tear streaks. He leaned into the touch, his eyes glossy, sorrowful, and exhausted. “You said you were worried about losing your feelings, but…” You sweetly smiled, “as much as it hurts right now, you’re proving yourself wrong.”
His tears began to slow as he listened to you speak. His visible curly eyebrow raised in confusion; his eyes pleading, practically begging you to continue.
“Someone without emotions wouldn’t be sitting here right now. Your brothers certainly wouldn’t,” you scoffed.
Memories of your impressions of the Vinsmoke siblings at Whole Cake Island flashed in your mind. While they might’ve looked similar to Sanji in some aspects, they acted the complete opposite. They felt cold, and shallow. They were aggressive, pompous jerks, blindly following orders— no matter how despicable. They couldn’t feel fear, not even for their own deaths. They didn’t feel human.
“They wouldn’t be scared like you are. They wouldn’t be open or honest like this, because they wouldn’t be worried like this. They don’t worry if they’re a good person or a bad person. They don’t wonder if they’re even still human. But you are,” you stared into his eyes. They reflected the silver moonlight, making them appear so gorgeous and crystalline. Truly, you could get trapped in those eyes that normally looked at you with such affection, such warmth. But the way they looked now, distant and tired, glossed over with tears, it squeezed your heart.
“As much as it pains me to see you cry, it’s proof that you can still feel. That you aren’t like them. Loving isn’t easy, and hearts are the hardest thing to carry. But that’s what makes you so strong. I’ve seen you, Sanji. I know you. You have too much love in your heart to lose it all,” you smiled at him. You meant every word of it. He had self-destructive tendencies, ranging from his chronic smoking habits to risking his entire life for another crew member. But you knew he did it because of how much he cared. It bled into everything he did.
“Your mother would be proud of you.”
While he had slowed his sobbing to brimming tears before, they began to cascade again at the reminder of his mother. You didn’t bring her up to try and hurt him— and he knew that. You held steady as he buried his head in your neck, sobbing, as his hands grasped at your shirt. While one of your hands held him to your body, the other moved to his hair, stroking and intertwining with the silky strands.
The two of you stayed like this for… you didn’t know how long. It didn’t matter. Like a steadfast rock standing amongst the crashing waves of the raging sea, you would be his support. Sanji needed some sense of comfort, and you would give your all to him for as long as he needed, provided he was willing to accept.
Finally, Sanji hesitantly pulled away, leaning against the wall of the crow’s nest. You took the opportunity to move and sit to his left, arms and thighs brushing. He allowed his head to fall back. You leaned against him, taking his left hand between both of yours, lightly stroking and massaging it. Despite the presence of scars or how calloused they appeared, his hands were always so gentle, so tender. But perhaps ‘sacred’ was the best word for them.
Sanji’s breathing slowed, evening out, as he was finally able to regain himself. “I’m sorry…"
"For what?
"For avoiding you. For… all of this."
"I'll admit, I was confused when you were avoiding me and no one else had answers." You thought about how it particularly hurt you, but you knew Sanji couldn't live with himself if he knew he had ever hurt you, so you wouldn't mention it. "But I wish I had noticed it sooner. You shouldn't have had to carry all of this by yourself for so long."
"I—“ He didn’t know where to start. He took a deep breath, steeling his voice, “I asked Zoro if he could promise me that if I ever am to lose myself, he would kill me. He swore to me he would.” His fingers tensed. “I’d rather be dead than turn into one of them.”
“I won’t let that happen.”
His eyebrows furrowed as his eyes clamped shut. “Please, please, mellorine. I can’t risk it. My mother sacrificed herself to ensure I wouldn’t become some heartless soldier for my father. I can’t turn into them—“
“I won’t let that happen, because I won’t let you turn into a soldier. I’ll do whatever I need to— whatever it takes. If you’re worried about your heart becoming ice cold, I’ll just help you thaw it out,” you tried to joke to ease either him or yourself— you weren’t sure who. You watched his hand, feeling how soft they were. “If you’re worried about losing yourself, then I’ll help find you again. If you lose your heart, I’ll give you my own in its place. It’ll remind you who you are. The Sanji that your mother loved. The Sanji that Zeff would be proud to see chasing his dream. I know how kind, how caring, how passionate, how good of a cook, how sweet you are… even when you should have every right not to be after everything you've been through. I’ll remind you who Black Leg Sanji is. Because that’s the Sanji I…” your voice cut short as your throat became tight. ‘…fell in love with.’
You took a deep breath, “You’re free to make whatever promises with Zoro you see fit, but… I won’t let that promise come to fruition.” Sanji felt drops of water on his hand. You wanted to be strong for Sanji— he needed someone to rely on in that moment, and he turned to you. But now here you were, crying.
Your gaze stayed trained on his hands. You held onto it like there was nothing more precious in the world. Because there wasn’t.
Your voice lowered to a whisper, “I promise you I won’t let that ever happen. I can’t let that happen. You mean too much to me. To all of us.”
He hunched over, head hanging low, as his emotions tried to process it all. His lips quivered, his nose scrunched, his eyebrows furrowed, trying not to cry again. He was only proving you right; he cared so much about you and hearing how much someone as perfect as you cared about him when he didn’t feel worthy caused his chest to ache.
Sanji had been so scared to lose his own heart, he could only think to entrust it to you. And yet here you were, returning the favor by offering up yours for him to take. He didn’t feel deserving of it, but maybe he would allow you to. He was terrified for the future, but at least he had you, even just for this moment.
As he felt the grip on his hand tighten, the sensation was nothing but soothing. A wave of comfort blanketed him, overwhelming him to realize just how tired he was.
Sanji hadn’t been sleeping well the past few weeks. Late at night, thoughts of losing himself would plague him, leaving him terrified and restless. If he managed to fall asleep, he would wake up in a cold sweat, having lived some twisted reality where he really was a Vinsmoke like his brothers. He’d take a step onto the deck, smoking a cigarette to calm his nerves, before accepting that he wouldn’t be sleeping any more for that night.
In truth, that’s why he had been up so late tonight. After a particularly harrowing nightmare, he didn’t even want to try to sleep any longer. Instead, he noticed the crow’s nest, remembering you might be on lookout tonight. So he did what he knew would bring him comfort— he created. A special batch of cookies, with some coffee to bring to you so you could stay awake. He didn’t even know if he should have been doing this. He had avoided you for weeks, writing it off in his head as not wanting to become cold and callous with you, if he really was losing his emotions. But he had done it with no explanation. He didn’t even know for sure if you were on lookout tonight; maybe you swapped with someone else. Even as he came up with excuses to head back down and spend the rest of the night smoking a whole pack of cigarettes in the galley, he continued to climb the ropes up to the crow’s nest.
He wanted to talk to you. He needed to talk to you.
And he was grateful he did.
You crudely wiped your eyes and sniffled a few final times to stop the tears from flowing. Sanji’s exhaustion washed over him, his entire being melting at your gentle touch. He sat back against the wall— his body leaned its whole weight into you as his head fell back to the comfort of your shoulder. You wondered if it was a conscious movement or not, expecting him to get flustered and see his cheeks turn red at the proximity, but his mind still seemed too preoccupied to even notice. You didn’t move, allowing him to get as comfortable as he needed to be. His chest rose and fell in a deep, relaxed rhythm.
You wondered if you should say something, or if he would say anything. You could tell he wanted to say something— he knew he had plenty he could say. But as he finally got a moment to pause, it all seemed to fade away. Your presence distracted him, grounded him.
“The moon is beautiful tonight, isn’t it?”
His voice was low and quiet, almost as if he was afraid to speak too loud, lest the moon hear, grow shy, and try to hide. You were surprised to hear him speak, feeling the sensation of his chest rumbling as he spoke. You glanced down at him, your eyes lingering on his. They were still tired, but you recognized some of that warmth you always saw inside them. His focus on the moon high in the sky, it’s reflection provided a new light within his eyes. The silver image of it held your gaze. A small smile formed on your lips as you responded.
“Yeah. It is.”
You were finally able to pry your eyes away from his face. As you sat there still holding his hand, his had slowly and gently begun to flex and clasp your own. You couldn’t tell if it was a conscious action or not as you returned the gesture, beginning to stroke your thumb across the back of his hand, tracing shapes on his skin. The sensation lulled him towards a deep sleep— one you could tell the cook had desperately needed. Finally comfortable, he allowed himself to slip away.
The only sound in the crow’s nest was his slow, deep breathing. It invited you to join him, but you resolved to stay on lookout duty for the night. Your book long abandoned, you kept your eyes on the chef’s hand in yours, stealing glances of him or peeking to check the surrounding ocean. The moonlight gracing Sanji’s features highlighted his soft, wavy hair. You could feel his chest rise and fall slowly, and the steady, gentle thrumming of his heart deep inside. Just being with him urged your whole body to relax. You melted into his own warmth, allowing your head to fall on top of his.
Every now and then, you would see Sanji, eyes closed and breathing slow, with pinched eyebrows signaling the overwhelming thoughts encroaching once again. You gave his hand a gentle squeeze and he immediately relaxed in response to your tender touch. The sensation barely stirred Sanji from his sleep. The gentle touch of his hand in yours made him realize that he hadn’t dreamt it, that what you said before was true. Knowing this, his heart grew warm, and he allowed himself to relax once again.
“Thank you, mellorine. If the time comes… I’ll hold you to that promise.”
You heard the weary smile on his mouth but said nothing as you brought his hand up to your lips. One small, featherlight kiss was placed upon the back of it. A move he had done countless times for you, always the gifter and never the receiver. You could only hope the gesture showed just how much you meant your promise— how your heart ached for his. With the moon and stars bearing witness, this would swear your promise to him. Signed and sealed with a kiss.