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It was the end of a long day, and Zeff was monitoring a first attempt at making scallops. Sanji’s face was obscured by long blonde bangs that swayed in and out of range of the spitting oil.
“You’re gonna need a haircut if you keep letting your hair dangle over the pan like that.”
The kid’s head shot up and those ridiculous bangs swished around like they wanted to prove Zeff’s point. Sanji’s skinny (always too skinny) hand moved up to shove them back in place, revealing that wide-eyed look the kid hadn’t managed to lose yet, “But Gus has long hair.”
Gus was a new hire that Sanji seemed to have taken a shine to, with long, dark hair that he pinned up under his toque in a dramatic routine that Zeff had caught the kid watching once.
Zeff raised a finger, “Ah, but Gus ties his hair up. You’re letting yours fall all over. You want our customers eating your hair?”
Sanji scowled, “I’ll just put it up then.”
Zeff tucked his finger up under the curtain of blonde hair and tugged on it, “I don’t know if you’ve even got a half-decent ponytail’s worth here, Eggplant.”
If he was honest with himself, Zeff just didn’t like that the kid’s hair was getting shaggy. It wasn’t too long yet, but there was an air of neglect that hung around an unkempt head of hair, and the thought of Sanji being neglected made a little knot of anger and sadness tie itself in the back of his throat. There was enough that Zeff felt like he was failing at, but even if he didn’t know much about childcare he could work a pair of scissors okay. He’d been cutting his own hair most of his life, thank you very much.
The kid didn’t seem too happy about the idea though, just kept scowling, before turning back to the pan and grumbling, “Food’s gonna burn if you keep bothering me, old man.”
Normally Zeff wouldn’t accept a dismissal like that from a chef, but Sanji got wiggle room to be a brat sometimes. The kid knew it too, but Zeff never could bring himself to call it out.
“You got until tomorrow to figure it out, Eggplant. You’re not doing prep tomorrow with your hair in your face!” With that, he considered the matter settled.
The rest of the cooking was done in silence, and a little proud look replaced the scowl when the scallops earned an approving grunt and a pat on the back.
“Good work. Now get this cleaned up, we got an early morning tomorrow.”
~~~
The last thing Zeff expected the next morning was to be greeted at his bedroom door by Sanji wearing a determined look and holding two lengths of twine in a little fist. He was always surprised by how early the kid managed to wake up, but it was rare that he was met anywhere other than the kitchen in the mornings. Sanji held up the twine like an offering, like Zeff would know what to do with it.
“What’s going on, kid?”
“My hair,” Sanji said, like it was the most obvious thing in the world, “I want you to do it like yours.”
“Like mine?” The twine somehow made even less sense than before. Who the hell needs twine for a haircut?
“Your mustache.” Sanji shoved the twine at him again, “If it’s in braids it won’t get in the food.”
Which is how Zeff found himself brushing out Sanji’s hair as the sun came up in his window, two lengths of twine in his bedroom trashcan. He’d exchanged them for ribbons when he realized what Sanji wanted, because no kid in my care is wearing twine in their hair, dammit, you want the other chefs to think I can’t provide for you or something? And that had made Sanji frown, but the pink ears on either side of it made Zeff smile. What a blessing, he remembered thinking, to have a kid I can read like a book.
“You know kid, your hair is too short for normal braids,” he drew a rough part down the middle of Sanji’s hair and bundled one half to the side, “hold this for me, would ya?”
Sanji dutifully reached up and held on to the little ponytail, “So you can’t do it like yours?”
“Never said that.” With a last brush through, Zeff separated out the hair at Sanji’s hairline into three, “Just needs to be a french braid, that’s all.”
There was a particularly painful twisting sensation in Zeff’s chest seeing that little blonde head bobbing around the kitchen with twin braids tied in an old pirate’s ribbons. He got a few raised eyebrows from the newer hires, but Patty and Carne and even that boy Gus made a point to tell the kid it looked sharp. When Sanji smiled up at him, all proud about finding a loophole, the hurt got that much worse. There was something fragile there, and Zeff knew he was too rough to keep it from breaking.
~~~
At around twelve Sanji began to shut down. Zeff figured it was coming, he’d been a real hellraiser at that age too, but he’d be damned if he was as bad as the kid was. It went beyond the standard sullen behavior, the kid started lashing out at any and everyone. The slightest thing was enough to trigger a screaming fit, and in a kitchen where all anyone knew how to do was scream back it wasn’t uncommon for Sanji to storm out and refuse to come back for the rest of service.
It was the hair that tipped Zeff off that something was really wrong. Sanji had let it grow out a little in the last few years, and had taken to tying it back in a ponytail after a sudden bout of shyness ended the routine of Zeff braiding it in the mornings. As Sanji’s moods got worse and worse, so did the state of those ponytails. The kid developed a nasty habit of pulling at it in frustration, which tugged strands loose and turned the whole thing into a bird’s nest.
After a particularly rough shift Sanji had given up, pulled the hair tie out and run off to the little bedroom down the hall from Zeff’s own. Zeff elected to follow behind. Giving the kid space clearly wasn’t working. When he caught up, he found Sanji curled up on the floor, hands twisted up in blonde hair and yanking. It was clear Sanji was trying not to cry, but when Zeff appeared in the doorway the weak effort failed, and tears started falling.
Not sure whether to get closer or run away, Zeff asked, “You okay kid?”
“Go away you shitty old man.” This was one of Sanji’s newer pickups, and Zeff was endeared and pissed off by it in equal measure. When he didn’t reply, Sanji kicked out at the bedframe and sent it flying towards him. “Leave me alone!”
Zeff caught the bed with his peg leg before it rammed into his knees. He was not going to lose his temper. He was going to figure out what was wrong.
“You gotta work with me here, Eggplant.”
“I said leave me alone!” Sanji turned even farther away from Zeff, and wailed in frustration at the sound of him stepping into the room.
With no more furniture to kick, and unwilling to bodily shove Zeff away, Sanji was forced to accept him settling on the floor so they were side-by-side. Zeff slung an arm over Sanji’s shoulder and hauled the kid into his side. After a paltry attempt to wriggle free, Sanji settled and tucked into Zeff’s shoulder to continue weeping.
“What’s going on with you?” Zeff’s voice was low, and he pulled Sanji further into him as he asked.
“I don’t kno-o-ow,” Sanji sobbed, “Everything’s so fucked up. I keep-” Sanji flailed a hand in the air, “I keep fucking up and. And dropping shit and Carne gets mad at me and-”
At the sound of hair ripping Zeff caught the hand in Sanji’s hair and pulled it away, folded it in his own while Sanji shook.
“That’s okay, kid. You’re just growing, you’re not used to how long your arms are yet, it’s okay.”
“It’s not. I’m costing the Baratie money and I’m making you look bad and-”
“Hey-”
“And I look stupid with this shitty long hair and don’t lie that I don’t because I heard Jennings ask if I’m a fag and everyone laughed-”
Rage boiled hot and quick in Zeff’s chest, that he had failed as a parent, that he had let someone into their restaurant that had caused harm, and most of all that he had a staff that wouldn’t stand up for his son (he would learn later, upon asking Patty, that the only laugh had been a disbelieving bark from one of the newer chefs, and the comment had been promptly followed by Gus bloodying Jennings’ nose, but Sanji had run off before it played out). Instead of letting that anger pry his mouth open, he stayed silent and held Sanji to his chest until it calmed to a simmer, and he could speak without steam billowing out with his words.
“Jennings will be on the first ship out in the morning. Tonight, if there’s any stragglers we can foist him off on.”
“Zeff-”
“And anyone who laughed. I’ll talk to Carne in the morning, we’ll figure it out.” He looked down and met Sanji’s eyes, red-rimmed and bloodshot, “Nobody talks to my boy like that.”
Which was the wrong thing to say, because Sanji’s lip started wobbling again. What had been wrong?
There was only one thing Zeff could think of.
“You know kid, it’s okay if you… if-”
“I’m not.” Sanji pulled away from Zeff hard, but Zeff held tight.
“Okay,” His hand soothed through Sanji’s hair, “But if you were. I’d tell you that it’s okay. I-” and here he stalled, the words unfamiliar in his throat, “I’d love you anyways. You’re still my little eggplant.”
There was quiet for a moment before Sanji spoke, quieter than before, “...Okay.”
“You’re my boy. And nobody, not even the chefs, mess with my boy.” Zeff said it with an air of finality so there could be no questioning what he said. And Sanji’s face twisted up again, miserable, but there was no rebuttal.
~~~
Sanji didn’t show up for breakfast the next morning. This was fine, since the process of getting Jennings packed up and shipped out wasn’t nearly as easy as Zeff had made it sound the night before, but he could tell everyone was still worried when Sanji hadn’t shown up by lunch. It wasn’t until that night that Zeff saw hide or hair of the kid, when a knock at his door revealed a mess of familiar blonde hair in mangled too-short layers. Sanji’s head was ducked, but without sufficiently long bangs there was no hiding the ruddy cheeks or the wet, stuck together eyelashes. Zeff didn’t know what had done it, but he felt that old pain come back at the realization that that fragile thing Sanji had entrusted him with was finally broken.
“Oh, Eggplant.”
Sanji’s breath caught on a hiccuped sob, “Can you fix it?”
With a knuckle, Zeff tipped the kid’s head up to assess the damage. It wasn’t too bad in the front, where a careful effort had been made to keep at least one side down past the cheekbone, but the sides and the back were a disaster.
“Well, if you want it to look okay it’s gonna have to be short.”
Sanji’s lip wobbled, “That’s okay.” And it wasn’t, Zeff could tell, but there was nothing either of them could do to fix it.
So Zeff guided the kid into his room and pulled an armchair in front of the little mirror he kept by the wall, and ran his hands through the sheared mess of his child’s hair while he puzzled through how to salvage a decent haircut from what was left. All the while Sanji stared at the floor, refusing to look in the mirror.
~~~
“You stay here for the night kid, you look wiped.” Sanji had never been the type to seek out Zeff after nightmares, so he wasn’t sure if being in his bedroom would be any comfort, but some latent instinct to swaddle and protect was overriding his good sense.
It was a surprise when Sanji nodded, clearly more exhausted than Zeff had realized.
“Okay.”
“You go and wash up, I’ll grab your pajamas.”
Sanji got up as if in a daze and shuffled into the bathroom. Zeff waited until he heard the shower click on before slipping out and going down the hall to the kid’s room.
What greeted him when he opened the door was worse than expected. Clumps of blonde hair were all over the floor, and it was clear Sanji had kicked all the furniture out of place during a tantrum. Ignoring the mess, Zeff collected the kid’s pajamas and pulled a set of chef's whites out of the closet for the next day.
When he got back to his room he dropped the pajamas through the bathroom door onto the counter and set to getting the bed in order. Sanji ran cold, so he draped another blanket on top, and tucked it in around the edges just in case. With that set, he went downstairs to get two glasses of water. When he got back to the room Sanji was curled up in bed, brow furrowed.
Zeff put the glasses down on the nightstand, pulled his armchair over to the head of the bed and sat down. Sanji rolled away from him, but didn’t flinch when Zeff’s hand started combing through the new haircut.
“You’re gonna be okay, kid.”
Zeff waited until Sanji’s breath evened out into soft snores before sliding back out. It didn’t take long to set the furniture in Sanji’s room back to rights, but it took several long minutes before he could bring himself to sweep up the mess of blonde all over the floor. When it was all clean, he made his way back to his own room, and fell asleep in the armchair by Sanji’s head.
+++
Nine years later, Zeff was greeted by Patty and Carne crashing into his kitchen at top speed while he took inventory, yelling something about Sanji. Patty had the morning’s paper in his hand, and Carne had a crumpled handful of wanted posters. When they reached Zeff they began desperately trying to hand him both while continuing to yammer about god knows what. Zeff took the rolled-up paper first and whacked them both over the head with it.
“Christ almighty, you two. What is it?”
Patty opened his mouth to respond but only got a small sound out before becoming overcome with something and darting a glance to Carne, who retracted the hand holding the wanted posters away from Zeff.
“Um-” Carne started.
Zeff hit him again, “You come into my kitchen yelling about Sanji and now the cat’s got your tongue? What’s the matter, what’s happened to him?”
It had been, by his calculation, just over two years since the captain and crew of the Straw Hat Pirates had been seen last. And God help him, Zeff trusted Luffy to keep Sanji safe, but that didn’t mean he hadn’t spent every moment of those two years waiting for news. The odd way Patty and Carne were approaching him now, knowing they were the only staff members left who cared about Sanji as much as him-
Zeff stretched his hand out to Carne, still clutching the posters away from him, “If there’s something wrong and you’re keeping it from me I’m going to gut you.”
“It’s nothing wrong,” Patty started, eyes glued to Carne’s hand as it approached Zeff, “It’s just- he, uh sh-”
“Patty.” Carne shot him another look before depositing the crumpled posters in Zeff’s waiting hand, “Just let him see for himself.”
The first thing he noticed was her smile. She, because it was undeniably a woman in the picture, was faced partially away from the camera, running somewhere and laughing like she had been caught just after hearing a particularly good joke. She looked beautiful, pink-cheeked and healthy.
The realization came on slow and then all at once, and once the initial confusion passed Zeff realized he couldn’t remember the last time he’d seen Sanji smile like that. And it was Sanji, no doubt about it. Her hair was different, flipped so the eye she’d been hiding since she was a kid was uncovered, and her face was softer and freckled in a way that it hadn’t been before, but Zeff would know Sanji with a mask and sunglasses on. A wave of sorrow and guilt followed, for all the happiness she could’ve had if he’d realized earlier what his daughter needed. He gripped the paper tight, wanting to run to the phone with no number to call, to write a letter to a ship too far down the Grand Line for a news coo to make it safe.
The second thing he noticed was her hair. She must have started growing it out at the start of those two years, since it was well past her shoulders now and streamed behind her in two long, shiny braids secured with ribbons.
“Well,” he said, and Patty and Carne snapped to attention, “We’re gonna have to update the Nasugasira.”
+++
Some months or years after that, the left-hand of the Pirate King returned to the Baratie. Walked right in between breakfast and lunch service like she owned the place, and ran straight into Zeff’s arms when he came out of the kitchen to see what all the ruckus was about. She was taller than when she’d left, enough that she stood an inch or two higher than him, but she folded into the hug like she was still ten years old.
“Should I call Patty and Carne?” They would be on the Sister Anko and the Nasugasira respectively, but he knew they’d come to the Baratie full speed if they heard Sanji was visiting.
Sanji shook her head, and pulled away from the hug to wipe her eyes, “No, no,” She beamed down at Zeff, “I can see them later. I came home to see you.”
Zeff nodded and released her, cleared his throat and dabbed at his eyes with his apron. “Make you lunch?”
~~~
“When did you know?” Zeff asked, chopping vegetables and hoping that Sanji couldn’t hear the real question, How long was I failing you?
Sanji tipped her head and hummed, “I don’t know. I’d be lying if I said always, but it would be wrong to put a date on it too. Especially since I tried to ignore it for so long.”
Zeff’s knife stalled for a moment, and his face twisted up, “I’m sorry I didn’t see it, Eggplant.”
Sanji rolled her eyes and shoved her sleeves up before moving to a sink to wash her hands. “Move over, you’re working too slow.”
“Now hold on young lady,” Zeff pointed at her with the tip of his knife, “Sit back down, you’re a guest.”
“Stick a sock in it old man. This is my kitchen too.”
Zeff reluctantly handed her the knife and shuffled around her to grab a pan and oil, the drum of precise knifework starting up where he’d left off.
“Don’t think this gets you out of the conversation, kid.” Before, he would’ve been happy to just drop it, trusting that he knew what was going through his daughter’s mind. But it was obvious now that he hadn’t had the faintest idea.
“I don’t know what you want me to say,” Sanji blew her bang away from her eye, “You did your best. I think part of why it took me so long to realize was that you let me be a girl.” She glanced over at Zeff and smiled, “It wasn’t your fault that I repressed it so hard, you know? It was stuff from before.”
Zeff blinked, never sure how to handle mentions of Sanji’s shadowy past, but– “What do you mean, I let you be a girl? I kicked your ass from one end of the kitchen to the other to make you into a gentleman.”
Sanji snorted, “Yeah, when I was a shithead teenager.” She turned to look at him, and raised an eyebrow at the confusion on his face, “Zeff. You did my hair up in pigtails and ribbons every day.”
“You asked me to!”
“Yeah, and you did it. You didn’t give me an ugly high and tight just because you could, or tell me it was unmanly, you just let me be. Never made me feel like I was doing something wrong.”
Zeff opened his mouth– “And don’t tell me you didn’t know,” it was Sanji’s turn to brandish the knife, “because we both remember Jennings. And I heard you chewing a guy out for making a joke about it. And I saw Patty spitting in the food of a table that gave me a dirty look while I was bussing tables. You had my back.”
Zeff bristled, “Of course I did. You’re my daughter.”
Sanji smiled, “Yeah. Even back then.”