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Walk Point was arguably the least versatile of any of Chopper's forms. He traveled slightly faster in it, and he could carry someone else or a sleigh. Otherwise, most tasks were better suited to Brain Point or Heavy Point.
And yet, Sanji reflected on his third less-than-discreet lap around the deck, Chopper spent most of the last week in Walk Point.
And the thing was, it wasn't entirely unusual. There were some islands where chopper spent all his time dressed as a normal deer, trotting alongside crew members and racing through the woods. He shifted when his doctor services were needed, but otherwise, no one minded how he looked when he was with them.
But doing so on the ship - the one place he could be himself unashamedly, all the time - was unusual, at least.
He took dinner in his brain form, every night, but even before he was out the galley door he'd shifted back to Walk Point. He started the night in his hammock, but Sanji would go to start breakfast in the morning and pass his sleeping form outside in the grass.
Currently he was curled under the mast, legs folded beneath him in a perfect loaf. His grace in this form had improved over time; the first day, his deer form wobbled with unfamiliar sea legs. Now, he trotted around easily as breathing, unbothered by the waves and weather. It would be another hour or so before the boys played tag on deck, and Chopper seemed content to doze off in the meantime.
Sanji didn't care, one way or the other. His little brother could look however he wanted, whenever he wanted. Anyone who said otherwise would meet the soles of his shoes.
But Sanji still worried.
He was grinding his cigarette between his teeth, lost in thought, when Robin caught his arm. "Cook-San," she greeted, a neutral smile on her face. Lovely as ever, then. "May I have a word?"
"Of course!" He chirped, motioning for her to lead the way with a flourish. She offered an indulgent smile and walked to the galley, letting him tail behind. Sanji only allowed himself one glance back. Only when he was sure Chopper hadn't moved - hadn't twitched, or stirred, or switched forms - that he stepped through the door.
"What can I do for you in this lovely night, my lovely Robin?"
Robin hummed softly, perching on the edge of a chair and gesturing for Sanji to do the same. He sank into it, trying to let some of his muscles relax at least a little.
Everything was fine.
"You've been tense, lately," Robin started, as delicate as ever. "I don't want to be rude, but I presume I can guess why."
Robin was many things, and unobservant had never been one of them. Sanji refused to imply so now.
"I'm sure you can," he said, with equal care. It was the same tone she'd used, the one that apparently meant someone dearer than family was trying to spare the feelings of another nakama. It was a voice they were all practicing, day in and day out, and had yet to master. "I just don't want you to have to worry about me. Or him."
Robin didn't quite purse her lips when she thought, but they did tighten. Maybe it used to be her tell, and she trained herself out of it. But thinking about her past and her reasons for changing always made Sanji feel off balance, so he preferred to leave her charming behaviors at face value.
Regardless, she came to a decision and straightened again. "Chopper isn't like the rest of us," she started, voice low. The words warmed the way they only ever did for their youngest. "He is, but biologically, he isn't. He's still growing and changing, faster than a human adult."
It took a lot of mental energy to slam the door on his instinctive panic around the word 'biologically', but he managed only a beat late. The guarded look in Robin's eyes rose and fell in tandem to his breathing.
"Makes sense," Sanji allowed at last. "Chopper's just a kid."
"He is, to an extent," Robin agreed. The gentleness was aimed at Sanji, now. "But he's a reindeer-human kid. He's figuring it out, and he'll come to us if he needs us. Don't be too concerned, alright?"
He had no idea how to respond to that, and his resulting compliments were halfhearted, at best. But he darted out after that, mind spinning.
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Sanji didn't believe in fate. Specifically, he believed that you get to pick your own Hell to live in. It was still a welcome chance when Sanji started out for his turn at watch to see Chopper, still in reindeer form, gazing out over the side of the ship.
He scrounged up his courage, mentally told the rest of the other ships in the ocean to take a hike, and went to join his littlest brother.
"You know," Sanji started, watching Chopper's ears flicker in alarm and settle again just as quickly, "I could have sworn Robin was last on watch. I didn't realize Nami doubled up tonight."
Chopper tilted his head back, those deep black eyes meeting Sanji's. He couldn't quite make out the bags under his eyes from the fur, but all the lines of Chopper's face read exhaustion.
"Oh, she didn't," he said quietly. Then he turned back to the water, watching the waves flicker along. It was dark enough for only a few dozen feet of visibility, but it didn't seem to deter Chopper. "I just...can't sleep."
There was a world of questions Sanji could ask. In fact, it was probably closer to 'he could demand', because as much as he respected the privacy of his crewmates, it was much more tempting to brute-force your way through worry than to wait it out.
Turns out, he prepped for nothing. Because between one breath and the next, Chopper blurted, "I can't see Luffy when he's laying in the grass."
Sanji paused. For a moment he wondered if he had a stroke or something. Chopper's words made zero sense at all.
Chopper huffed at his confusion, tail swishing behind him. Automatically Sanji smoothed a hand over his back and hid a smile when Chopper arched into the touch.
"Reindeer eyes are different," Chopper explained quietly. "I can see differently in this form than the others. It's harder to get used to it."
Sanji straightened, something inside him rearing its head at the idea of being different, of having to change, of being unsure what you were.
Chopper was unusually perceptive most of the time, but tonight he didn't seem to notice, staring out into the ocean while Sanji tried to get a grip.
Strangling his voice under control, Sanji finally asked, "Different how?"
"The colors are...weird," Chopper answered. "In human terms, I'm probably considered red-green colorblind. Everything's just so...muted. And..." He hesitated, shooting a nervous glance at Sanji's face, and he softened his gaze enough for Chopper to carry on, "And I can see UV radiation from the sun, when I'm in reindeer form."
"Woah," Sanji said, soft with amazement. "That's pretty cool, Chopper."
"Shut up, it's not," Chopper said, tossing his antlers in delight. When he settled again, Sanji ran a hand between his ears, and it coaxed out an added, "All my senses kind of went out of whack when I ate my fruit. I'm trying to get used to being in this form again in case I need it in a fight."
That made sense. It made a lot of sense, actually, in a way that made Sanji's chest glow with pride. Getting familiar with the Sunny, with his nakama, with everything that came with his deer form, was a brilliant idea. Even better to do it before he really needed it.
Sanji nudged his shoulder, legs crossing. He itched for a cigarette, but Chopper's eyes watered when the smoke got too close. Now he understood why.
"So why're you up so late, then?" Sanji asked lightly. "Reindeer alarm clocks going off wrong?"
Chopper winced, looking guilty for a long moment before settling again. "It's not like that," he said, without making eye contact. "I just...I don't know. I'm a reindeer. I should like being a reindeer."
It took another long, deep breath for Sanji to muster up the courage to go on. But this was Chopper, who looked at them like they had all the answers, and if Sanji could pull himself together for anyone, it was his little brother.
And he would have this conversation if it killed him. He spent his whole life walking around in a Vinsmoke skin suit that didn't fit properly, and he'd be damned if he watched Chopper struggle the same way.
"I like my brain point best," Chopper admitted at last, voice smaller than Sanji was used to. "But...shouldn't I like this form more?"
"Hey," Sanji said, not very sharply. Chopper's gaze snapped to him immediately, and then he giggled when Sanji reached over to tug his hat over his eyes. Only a beat later did Sanji fix it, smiling so kindly.
"It doesn't matter what you are, human or reindeer," Sanji said, not unkindly. "It doesn't matter what you think you should be, either. You're Chopper, our doctor, and we love whatever you want to be."
Chopper watched with wide eyes, drinking in every word, and Sanji meant every bit of it.
"C'mon, Chopper, let's get to bed," he said, standing and stretching. Chopper rose to his feet, and then-
And then he shrunk, a brain point Chopper leaning against his leg and smiling up at him. "Thanks, Sanji," he said, far too grateful for a single conversation to warrant.
Sanji didn't bother to reply. Just swung the youngest crewmate up onto his shoulders, grinning ear to ear, and thinking of new backpack designs for Usopp to make him. Something easier for reindeer eyes to spot.
And if the ear on the railing vanished, its owner satisfied with her eavesdropping, then Sanji would say nothing. Robin preferred secrecy, after all.