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Sanji was sitting in the dark, alone in the Merry’s kitchen – his kitchen? – pondering his life so far. He wouldn’t say he made a mistake, leaving Baratie; it was the right thing to do, it was exciting – saving Luffy, rescuing Nami, being part of a ragtag crew of endearing morons who thought they could rival a fucking warlord. Not a mistake, he thought. But he still had doubts, especially in the middle of the night. And that was why he was still up past midnight, toying with his chef knife in the too quiet kitchen.
He knew for a fact that everyone was asleep – he waited for them all to snore before he slipped back up to wallow in self-doubt. He didn’t want anyone to ask questions, or, even worse, try their hand at small talk. The swordsman at least looked like he wanted nothing to do with him – he had been downright hostile all week, but he was still convalescing, and Sanji could understand how he felt. After all, he woke up from a coma to discover his captain had decided to recruit a cook. He was well aware by now that Luffy had sort of kidnapped and Stockholm-syndromed every member of the strawhats, but that must have stung a little.
He was still deep in thoughts – he needed sleep, but was itching for a cigarette – when he heard light footsteps coming his way from the men’s quarters. He straightened his back, trying to convey the notion that it was not strange at all to be sitting alone in the dark. He ran a hand through his hair, then thought better of it and ruffled it back down over his eye.
He heard the grumbling stomach before he saw Luffy, when he stepped into the moonlight coming from the small windows. He looked sleepy and impossibly young like that, with his messy crop of hair and his too big shirt – was he sleeping in a hand-me-down from Zoro? Sanji tried not to grin at the thought.
“It’s too early for breakfast,” he told him.
He kept his voice low not to wake anyone else and braced himself for the inevitable onslaught of noise. Protest, whining, inane chattering about something Luffy saw in a dream; everything was possible.
Luffy didn’t answer. He just shuffled a little, not looking at him, and he just whined, the noise so soft Sanji thought he dreamed it up. Then he extended an arm – fuck, that power of his was freaky, no matter how many times Sanji had seen him stretch at this point – and tried to open the fridge.
“I knew I should have installed a lock,” he muttered.
Before he could slap the exploring hand away, he realized that Luffy’s fingers kept missing the handle, grappling uselessly against the door. He crossed the kitchen and finally got a good look of his face. His eyes were open, but glazed over, unseeing.
“Luffy?” he tried, uncertain. Was he actually asleep?
The captain used Sanji’s momentary confusion to his advantage and his stretched arm finally managed to open the fridge and grab a ham. Before Sanji could offer to cut him a slice – resolution not to feed him be damned – Luffy was already gnawing on the meat like a goddamn animal.
Sanji sat back down and let out a strangled laugh, because trust Luffy – crazy, intense, childlike Luffy – to be affected by a kid disorder like sleep-walking. Or was it sleep-eating? He briefly wondered if hunger had really been that intense or if he was just going through his favorite daytime activity.
He decided against waking him; it was quieter that way. He only pushed him back downstairs when he tried to open the fridge a second time. And Luffy – formidable, strong, capable of defeating Arlong with his bare hands – let him, like a child who wandered out of his bedroom after a nightmare. Sanji tried not to think about it too much as he finally went to bed as well.
*
Sanji didn’t ask Luffy or the crew if they knew about their captain’s sleepwalking, mostly because he didn’t want to explain why he was still up himself, alone in the kitchen at such a late hour. But he was still curious to know if it was a one time thing or a recurring problem – his fridge didn’t have a lock, and the pantry had provisions for the crew when awake, but he would need more supplies if late night meals had to be added.
He was deep in his thoughts, making tallies of produce, meat and fish, when Zoro plopped down beside him, just a little too close to his liking.
“What do you want?” he asked not too nicely.
The swordsman didn’t seem to mind and he just stared like he was studying him. The scrutiny made Sanji even more uncomfortable than the proximity.
“Are you an insomniac?” Zoro suddenly asked.
“I don’t need as much sleep as you sloth do,” he said.
The stupid swordsman was constantly napping, snoring throughout the day, and yet he managed to sleep at night as well.
“We need to set up some night watches,” Zoro said, sounding both serious and a little concerned.
They had been staying in Coco Village, hidden in a small creek with no name, but the swordsman had a point; once they resumed sailing, they would be sitting ducks at night if someone decided to attack when they were all sleeping. Vice-Admiral Garp might be off their back for now, but there were surely other threats out there.
“I do need sleep,” Sanji said, wondering how much of his late night pity parties Zoro had witnessed, “but I can keep watch.”
“I’ll talk to Usopp,” Zoro said. “Even if he might wake us up whenever a seagull ventures too close.”
They couldn’t ask Nami of course, not because she was weak or incompetent, but because she deserved so much more. They hadn’t discussed what had transpired with Arlong, but Sanji had seen and heard enough to put the pieces together and he didn’t like the larger picture at all.
“And Luffy?” Sanji asked.
“He’s tired,” Zoro said with a frown.
Sanji raised a questioning eyebrow, waiting for Zoro to elaborate. So that was not a one time thing then, he thought.
“It happens sometimes,” Zoro said, “when he’s not sleeping enough. He sits up and starts walking. He scared me half to death the first time, but you get used to it.”
Zoro shrugged, like an exhausted, sleepwalking captain was no big deal at all. Stress and exhaustion probably explained it, and Luffy had had plenty of those lately, between seeing his first mate get cut in half, nearly drowning and then going to rescue Nami from Arlong. Maybe he was entitled to little trips to the kitchen after all, Sanji thought.
“You can take the first shift,” he told Zoro. “I’ll be up to make sure Luffy doesn’t scarf down my whole pantry anyway.”
*
Sanji stayed in the kitchen after dinner, to wash dishes and prep tomorrow’s meals, while Zoro made his way up the crow’s nest. It was a clear night, not a cloud in sight, and the sea was calm. Everyone else headed below deck to catch some sleep. And not an hour later, as Sanji had lit a cigarette and was blowing the smoke out of the small window, he heard the telltale shuffling announcing Luffy’s presence.
His eyes were open but glassy. How he was not bumping into every piece of furniture was actually amazing. It was a bit unsettling to watch him cross the room, and stop in front of the now cleared table. His vacant expression was even worse than when he was awake and simply not listening.
Sanji opened the fridge – noticing how Luffy perked up at the sound – and took out a bowl of cut fruits he had prepared earlier. Maybe he could use those midnight snacks to force their captain to eat healthier food for once. He dribbled some honey on the fruit and pushed the bowl in front of Luffy. He couldn’t see it, not really, but he tilted his head like he was considering the offering.
Once his sleepy brain realized there was food nearby, he inhaled the fruits in record time, not bothering with a spoon or good manners. He licked the bowl clean and put it back down with a content smile. It was contagious, and Sanji was smiling as well, when he gently directed him back to the men’s room.
*
It became a sort of routine, feeding Luffy at night. Another normal task that was his to do. Sanji had to admit the sleeping captain was good company, even though he never got any feedback on the snacks he served him. He discovered that if he left a plate out, Luffy was actually able to wander in and out on his own. Now he just needed to train him to wash the dishes, he thought.
Soon enough they were sailing again. Zoro was on the mend, and Nami acted less cagey around them. It turned out Usopp was actually quite good at keeping watch – it made sense, considering the man was afraid of his own shadow. For a reason Sanji couldn’t explain, Usopp never complained that Luffy and Nami weren’t taking turns as well. Maybe the sharpshooter was happy to contribute however he could, or maybe he just supposed they were on later watches. Maybe they should have discussed it as a crew.
Sanji chuckled as he was cutting onions for lunch. He could just picture the conversation in his head; how Luffy would demand why the captain of the ship wasn’t consulted, and how Zoro would pretend it was his first mate duty to stay up all night protecting them all. Usopp would whine that it was unfair and Nami would probably agree with their organization, and argue that she was keeping watch enough during the day, being their navigator and all.
“What’s so funny?” Luffy asked him.
He stared at the cutting board, a puzzled expression on his face. He was probably wondering if some onions made you laugh instead of cry when you cut them.
“You look tired, captain,” Sanji said instead of trying to explain.
“I have a crew now. I’ll be fine,” he said with a wink.
He stole a rice ball before Sanji could stop him and ran outside like an unruly kid. Did he know? Sanji wondered. Was he aware that he spent his nights in the kitchen munching on food while Sanji was chain smoking and muttering about his life choices?
*
They dropped anchor for the night and everyone went to sleep – except for Zoro who was on watch duty, and Sanji, who had some thinking to do on the lounge’s couch. He was half asleep when he heard the clink of the hammock below deck and the soft thump of naked feet on the floor. Luffy shuffled to the kitchen and Sanji turned on his side and fell asleep for good. Luffy knew the way to the pantry after all; he had left him a plate of dried meat with crudites on the side – as an experiment to check if he was a picky eater in his sleep.
A yell woke him up, and he sat up, only to freeze and stare at a mean looking rifle. He tried to blink sleep away and focus on the man holding the weapon – a burly, bearded mountain of a man, with facial scars and a scary snarl. A pirate, his mind supplied.
“Get up,” the man said.
In the background he could see a frightened Usopp babbling with his hands up while another pirate aimed a weapon at his face. Sanji must have not been fast enough for his liking because a hand clamped on his arm, roughly pulling him to his feet. He staggered forward and let the man push him against the wall, the rifle digging painfully into his left kidney, buying time before he could strike.
His heart felt tight when he saw more armed men pulling Nami from the women’s quarters. She looked pissed and disheveled but unharmed. Out the door, he could see the looming shadow of another ship, which explained where the pirates had come from, but not how they had managed to board them. Sanji wanted nothing more but to run outside and check on Zoro in the crow’s nest. He craned his neck and tried counting the enemies on the deck – way too many to take on his own; he could see at least twenty, all armed with rifles or pistols.
The man in his back hit him in the shoulder with the butt of his weapon and he itched to retaliate, but Nami looked terrified, with a pistol aimed at her head. They wanted him to sit next to her against the wall and he needed time to form a plan, so he complied. Usopp soon joined them, muttering under his breath. Sanji tried to stay calm, curling his hands into fists and keeping his head down.
“Bring him in,” someone said. “Tie them up.”
They dragged Zoro in and dropped him at their feet, bloody and unconscious. Nami gasped and raised a hand to cover her mouth, while Usopp was shaking – with rage or fear, Sanji couldn’t tell. Before he could think, he was kneeling next to the swordsman to check on him. It looked like they had shot him in the head, grazing his thick skull, and blood covered his hair, his face, seeping into the collar of his shirt. A rifle pushed him back and Sanji growled but he didn’t jump on them like an attack dog, not wanting to give them a reason to shoot him, or worse, Nami and the others.
So he begrudgingly sat back, expecting the enemy’s captain to come and gloat any minute now. Henchmen tied their hands with thick rope, but they left their legs free at least. He would still be able to fight if the opportunity arose. All the while, they were rummaging through the crates on the deck and yelling orders from below deck. It was like they were looking for something specific. He glanced at Nami – her eyes flickered to her room. The map, he wondered. Surely it was well hidden in the women’s quarters – that numerous armed men were currently ransacking.
“Where is Luffy?” Usopp asked under his breath.
He looked about to cry but still tried to put on a brave face.
“Shit,” Sanji swore. “I forgot. He’s been sleepwalking all week.”
He was probably in the pantry, crouched between two crates and eating food like a wild raccoon. Sanji wondered what would happen if the pirates found him. Best case scenario, Luffy would be able to rouse and fight. Worst case, he’d be too disoriented to avoid the bullets. He knew Luffy was able to stretch and repel bullets – he heard tales of him doing it with actual cannon balls – but what if he needed to be conscious to do so, what if he was unable to deflect a bullet shot point blank?
A large bearded man wearing a long black coat with shiny buttons and an actual tricorn – really, all that was missing was a parrot on his shoulder and an eye-patch – planted himself in front of them, his pegleg inches from Zoro’s slack face. Sanji growled and tried not to jump to his feet and kick the smug look off his face.
“Where is it?” he demanded, not bothering to explain what it was supposed to be.
“Your mom left with it last night,” Usopp snapped, surprising everyone – even himself, given the look of utter terror on his face when he realized what he had just said.
The caricature of a pirate captain let out a strangled growl and raised his wooden leg to strike Usopp – cowering, defenseless Usopp – so of course Sanji had to react. He kicked from his crouched position, hitting the man in his flesh shin and sending him off balance. He got pistol-whipped in the face for his troubles and blood flooded his mouth.
“Back off,” he said, smirking with bloodied teeth.
“Or what? You’ll bleed on me?” the pirate laughed. “You’re done. Give us the map and we might not sink your sad excuse of a ship.”
Sanji was about to say something brave and sarcastic, because who was he to insult the Going Merry, when Zoro stirred. Worst timing ever, Sanji thought. He threw himself over the injured swordsman to protect his already damaged head from another blow. The pegleg hit him instead and pain exploded in his head. Nami yelled, the sound shrill enough to pull him from unconsciousness. It was a losing battle, however, and the floor was tilted on the side when he opened his eyes. More rifles pointed at them, and he could smell gunpowder in the air – he hoped it was only a warning shot.
Nami yelled again, but this time she was shouting actual words. “Luffy! Help!”
Fear gripped him and Sanji tried to tell her to stop, but his tongue refused to cooperate and he could only groan from the floor.
“There is food for you!” Usopp screamed – clever, because that was probably the best way to lure Luffy out.
He shot out of the pantry like a devil out of a box. He ran into a pirate but didn’t stop and scrambled back up. Sanji couldn’t see if he was asleep or not; he couldn’t see straight, couldn’t even raise his head to check on the fight happening in the ship’s lounge. Gunpowder erupted from everywhere, permeating the air, making it hard to see. And yet Luffy was jumping and bouncing all around, undeterred, cackling like a madman.
Terror, screams, confusion. Sanji shut his eyes tight, wondering about the integrity of his skull. Nami helped him sit up, cutting his bound hands – when did she free herself? – while Usopp checked on Zoro, who was blinking and mumbling something about his swords.
And then Luffy was the only one left standing. The enemy had retreated so fast some even left their weapons behind. He was panting slightly, eyes open but glassy. He had defeated an entire armed crew, asleep, Sanji thought. He was going to be pissed when he woke up and realized the promised food didn’t exist.
“Can we wake him up?” Usopp asked warily. “Isn’t it dangerous?”
“Dangerous for the one doing the waking,” Zoro said.
Sanji looked at him – he was awake and coherent, and suddenly Sanji found that he could breathe more easily.
“How did they get the drop on you?” he asked, trying to sound pissed that they kept watch all week for nothing instead of relieved the swordsman hadn’t scrambled that mushy brain of his.
“They shot me before I could raise the alarm. I fell.”
“From the…”
Sanji thought about the mast, and how high the crow’s nest sat, wondering how he was still alive. A combination of a thick skull and dumb luck no doubt.
He decided to take one for the team – he was already concussed, he reasoned – and he stepped over to Luffy on shaky legs. He looked so normal – he was scary strong. Sanji’s fingers closed on soft cloth; that shirt was his, he was sure of it, and he didn’t know how he felt about the theft.
Luffy blinked awake and smiled sleepily.
“Is it breakfast already?” he mumbled, looking around like he had no memory of walking around and beating all those men a minute ago.
“I’ll make you anything you want,” Sanji promised. He pushed him towards the kitchen table. “Go sit down.”
*
The sun rose as Sanji was making pancakes, despite his violent headache. He was willing to prepare anything for his captain, he thought. Zoro was clutching his swords and sitting at the kitchen table with a haunted expression. Usopp was out checking on the ship, muttering about all the damage; he was strangely vocal now that the danger had passed. Nami had disappeared in her room, to check on her – their? – possessions, and they hadn’t heard her scream with rage yet, so it looked like her hiding holes hadn’t been discovered.
He filled in Luffy on what happened, but he could tell he was only half listening. His knuckles were split and raw, but he didn’t seem to care, as he scarfed down a huge pile of pancakes.
“How did you know how to avoid the bullets?” Sanji asked because the thought wouldn’t leave him alone.
“What bullets?” Luffy mumbled, his mouth full.
Zoro raised his battered face and shrugged as if to say, “Don’t bother.”
“Think you need stitches?” Sanji asked him, because the swordsman’s head clearly did, but he didn’t want to overstep and spook him. He’d end up hiding away to lick his wounds in private, and Sanji didn’t want that.
“Maybe,” Zoro said reluctantly, through clenched teeth. The sincerity took Sanji aback; maybe falling on his head had knocked some sense into him.
And the ship lounge felt weirdly like home, as he rummaged through their terribly under-stocked first aid kit. Luffy was sleeping at the table, his head on his crossed arms, snoring softly. Usopp was hammering on something out on the deck – either some early repairs or a defensive contraption he just had an idea for.
They lacked weapons, painkillers, sleep, communication… So many things that ultimately didn’t matter that night. And Sanji found that he didn’t care one bit. The room was a mess, the furniture broken, bloody and reeking of gunpowder. And yet, Sanji felt safe and he didn’t want to be anywhere else in that instant, as he prepared a needle to stitch back together Zoro’s head.