Work Text:
Author's note: Just a little one-shot I've had floating in my head for a few weeks now. Figured I'd go ahead and let it out.
*****
He winced behind the door, peering just through the crack. His father stood over his mother, who cowered on the floor. Her blonde hair was a mess, her blue eyes red and puffy as she raised an arm to defend herself from the next blow. It didn't work; his father grabbed the defensive arm and pushed it out of the way before proceeding to punch his mother's face mercilessly.
The blond boy wanted to do something, anything. But he was too small, too helpless. The last time he had tried, his mother had ended up using her own body to defend him from his father instead and had ended up with a worse beating as a result. So with a shudder and the fall of silent tears (he didn't dare make a sound), he turned away. If he curled into a ball and covered his ears, he could pretend his world didn't exist at least for a little while.
*****
There was one thing his mother absolutely loved doing and that was cooking. She'd always have a peaceful happy smile on her face as she was making a broth or chopping vegetables. He'd walk up to her and she'd look down at him and smile.
"Do you want to help me, little eggplant?" she'd ask, and then she'd lift him to sit on the counter while she cooked. Her food was fantastic. He always thought she'd make an incredible chef.
"Mom, did you ever want to be a cook?" He'd asked her once. Only once. Her blue eyes had gotten distant at that, but when she had finally answered, a tight smile was on her face.
"Once, a long time ago. But I meant your father and, well...it just didn't work out." Tears had started to fill her eyes, so she had turned away and had gone back to preparing the meal. He never had the courage to ask again.
That night, to cheer him up, she’d told him a story about a legendary ocean with every fish from the Four Blues, a chef’s paradise. The All Blue.
“Have you ever seen it?” He had asked, all wide-eyed. She had smiled then.
“No.”
“Then how do you know it’s real?”
“I don’t. But I hope it is. It would be wonderful to see.”
“Then I’ll find it! Someday, I’ll get a ship! And I’ll find the chef’s paradise, the All Blue!” the blond boy had declared proudly. His mother had just smiled wider and kissed him on the forehead. But she hadn’t laughed at him.
“I’m sure you will.” She had said.
*****
The boy couldn't remember what the fight was about, but he remembered the day his father broke his mother's hand. She screamed at him to stop, but he just kept crushing her delicate bones in his harsh grip. After several snaps he finally flung her away and then stomped to their room and slammed the door.
He was a little older now, but as usual, the boy did nothing, could do nothing, while his father was in the room. But as soon as the man left, the boy rushed to his mother's side. She was sobbing, cradling her hand close to her chest, but once she saw her son, she stopped crying and wiped her tears with her sleeve.
"I suppose I deserved that," she said with a sad smile as she stood.
"No, Mom, you didn't," he protested as usual as he went to grab the first aid kit. There was never money for a doctor.
"Now, now, your father doesn't mean to do it," his mother defended, "He doesn't know what he's doing when he's drunk."
From experience, the boy knew better than to say anything else. This argument always went in circles. Instead, he silently and carefully bandaged and splinted his mother's hand. At ten years old he was far better at it than he should have been.
That night, his mother tried to cook dinner, but with her damaged hand, it was proving difficult. Tears of frustration started to stream down her cheeks as his father began complaining about when dinner would be ready. Without a word, the boy took a knife in his hand and began chopping the remaining vegetables.
"Eggplant..." his mother said softly, but she made no move to stop him. Together, they finished the meal and got it to the table. His father grumbled and his mother apologized while the boy angrily stewed in silence until he finished eating and could be excused. He forced himself to stay quiet, remained in his room the rest of the evening, and was rewarded with no further incidents that night.
*****
The boy was twelve when the pirates arrived in their coastal village.
Living on the farm just outside of the town, news often tended to reach their small family late. But the morning the pirates pulled into the harbor in their huge ship, the boy and his mother happened to be heading to the market square with a huge haul of vegetables in their baskets. One of his mother’s friends waved her over.
“Did you hear? There’s a pirate ship in the harbor!” the woman gasped in horrified shock, but the smile on her face belied her true feelings. If the pirates hadn’t already attacked and plundered the village, they likely weren’t going to. And any interesting change in this small community provided plenty of gossip and excitement for weeks to come.
His mother felt otherwise.
“Maybe we should go back?” she wondered, eyes full of concern. The boy turned to argue with her (he wanted to see the pirate ship, dammit!) when he noticed the man walking towards them out the corner of his eye.
The man was dressed in rough and dirty clothes, the hair under his tricorne hat was greasy and slicked back, and he looked like he hadn’t shaved in weeks. But his face had an open and friendly expression.
“Excuse me, ladies and young gentleman,” the man said, removing his hat and bowing low. “Do you know the way to the market square?”
“Ah, you must be new in town!” his mother’s gossipy friend said in delight. The boy gave the tricorne man another look. So this was one of the pirates? “It’s just a few lanes over, towards the harbor. You can’t miss it!”
“And yet, somehow I did,” the man said, rising with a self-depreciating smile on his face. He returned his hat to his head. “Thank you for pointing me in the right direction. Hopefully, I’ll see you all around during my stay.”
With that, the man gave a polite nod and smiles to all of them, then turned and went on his way.
“That was one of the pirates?” his mother asked in surprise. “He was so polite! Well, maybe we’ll stay for the market after all.”
The boy’s eyes followed the tricorne man’s retreating form. Although he couldn’t say why, he had never found a person he liked more after a first meeting. He hoped they’d see more of the man in the coming weeks.
*****
The boy got more of his wish than he could have dreamed. The pirate crew stayed for nearly a month, restocking and getting some needed rest and relaxation. Initially, the citizens of the village had been skittish of the pirate crew, but the other pirates proved to be just as polite as the man had been. The members of the crew visited the market several times and the tricorne man-- their captain it turned out-- always had a pleasant smile for the boy and a polite word for his mother. The boy always looked out for the man, so he could ask about his adventures at sea. The tricorne man always laughed and obliged him.
One day, while his mother was away, the boy asked his real question outright, “Can I go to sea with you?”
The man paused before answering, but he did not look surprised. “I was wondering when you would ask that question. How old are you lad?”
“Twelve!”
The man rubbed his chin as if thinking it over. “A bit young, but perhaps. Perhaps. It’s a hard life you know.”
“That’s fine!” the boy replied. “I’m not afraid of hard work!”
“Oh? And what work would you do on my ship?”
“Cook! I could be your cook! I know you don’t have one! Or at least not a good one. So I’ll do it!”
The man laughed heartily at that. “Well, let me think on it.”
Out the corner of his eye, the boy saw his mother returning. He leaned in close to the man, “Hey, do you think my mom could come too?”
The tricorne man raised a brow at that, seemed about to ask a question, but the boy’s mother arrived. “And what are you two chatting about?” she asked.
“Nothing,” the boy lied. “Just asking if he’s ever seen the All Blue.”
The man smiled and tipped his tricorne hat at the boy’s mother. “Can’t say I have, but maybe someday your son can join me on my ship and find it.”
“Maybe,” his mother replied with a polite but tight smile. Her hands squeezed the boy’s shoulders in an almost painful grip. The man didn’t miss her reaction.
“I see,” was all he said before he glanced at the boy. The sunny grin returned to his face. “Well, a good day to both of you.”
With that, he turned and continued his stroll through the market square.
“Honestly, taking you out to sea? What is he thinking? It’s dangerous and you’re only twelve.” His mother said, shaking her head.
“I think he meant when I was older, Mom. You know, if they ever come back this way.” The boy replied. “You know, they don’t have a decent cook onboard. I could help with that.”
His mother gave him a bemused smile before ruffling his blond hair. “You still have a lot to learn, you know.”
Little did the boy know these pirates would turn his entire life upside down.
*****
It was during the pirates’ last week in the town that his father decided to go with them to the market. The boy and his mother set up their small stall of vegetables while his father went to the tavern to “find something to quench his thirst.” The boy didn’t care. He just wanted the man gone.
The day went well. They sold nearly all their produce. His mother was talking to a member of the pirate crew, a young man not much older than the boy himself was. She was smiling and laughing as usual, when his father returned.
“You harlot!” he shouted as he swaggered up. His mother looked up with a horrified expression, stammering to explain. His father backhanded her, knocking her into one of the baskets, before glaring at the pirate crew member. The young man turned and fled.
The boy had knelt down to help his mother up when his father turned back to them. “This what you’ve been doing, harlot?! Going out behind my back?!”
It was enough. The boy stood in front of his mother, his arms and legs spread wide in a defensive posture. His father glared down at him.
“Eggplant--!” his mother cried, but too late. His father’s fist swung across his cheek, flinging the skinny boy to the ground as if he was no more than a bug. The boy rubbed his bruised cheek before jumping up. Not this time! I’m going to stop you this time!
“Leave her alone!” he shouted, as his father walked menacingly over to his mother. It didn’t matter how big the man was, he had to try! The boy grabbed the huge man’s arm, coiled his fist back—
And watched as a leg swung out and sent his father flying across the market.
“Don’t you know it’s been a law since the time of the dinosaurs that you don’t strike women?” the tricorne man said sharply as he lowered his leg. He placed a gentle hand on the wide-eyed boy’s fist. “If you’re gonna be my chef someday, save your hands for that.” Without thinking, the boy relaxed his fist. Nodding, the man turned to his mother and offered her a hand up. “Ma’am, are you hurt?”
His mother, dumbfounded, shook her head no before taking the offered hand and standing. On the other side of the market, two members of the pirate crew were lifting up his unconscious father. They looked over to their captain, as though looking for further instructions.
“Men, take that farmer back to his home. This woman will show you the way,” the tricorne man ordered. “I’ll help the lad clean up this mess.”
Looking down, the boy realized that the remnants of their produce were scattered across the stall and the basket his mother had landed on was crushed. He blushed, embarrassed at having his family’s troubles presented to these newcomers. Bad enough that the whole village wagged their tongues about it.
Once his parents and the two pirates were out of sight, the tricorne man turned to the boy. “Let’s go to the tavern for a talk, lad.”
The boy had never been in the tavern before. It turned out to be dark, cold, and stank of beer. It reminded the boy of his father. He hated it. Still he waited patiently across from the tricorne man as he ordered a beer and sipped it.
“I see why you want to leave so badly, lad,” the man said kindly. The boy’s face flushed with anger and embarrassment. He didn’t want this pirate to take him on out of pity. As if reading his thoughts, the tricorne man stated, “I’m not saying this because I feel sorry for you. You’ve got guts, so I’m willing to give you a shot. If I didn’t think you’d last at sea, I wouldn’t give you the chance to come with us. But there’s something you need to understand before you take this offer.”
“What’s that?”
“Your mother will never leave him.”
The boy stared at the tricorne man, anger in his eyes.
“You don’t know that!”
“I do.”
“I’ll talk to her! I’ll get her to--!”
The tricorne man held up a hand for silence. “You know it, too, lad. Deep down you do.”
The boy slammed his fists (his tiny, weak useless fists!) on the table and felt hot tears fill his eyes. He couldn’t leave his mother! She was the sweetest, kindest person in the whole world. She deserved better than his father. He just had to make her see that!
“Tell you what,” the tricorne man said with a sigh, setting his beer down. “Talk to her tonight. Our ship leaves at dawn tomorrow. If you can talk her into it, bring her to the harbor before dawn and we’ll take both of you away from here. If not…”
The man let the sentence hang. The boy jumped up from his chair and raced out of the tavern. His eyes burned with tears the entire run home.
*****
It was just past sunset when the boy returned to the farm. His home. The only one he’d ever known. Even in their poorest times, they’d always been able to eat because of the food the farm provided. There was no guarantee of that if he went out to sea…
If he went out to sea…
The boy shook his head, shaking away his tears. Stop that! He had decided. He was leaving and he would get his mother to come with him. She would see it. She would finally see that the sea life, any life, would be better than the miserable one they had here.
The boy crept slowly into their small home and flinched when the front door creaked as usual. He gave a small sigh of relief when he saw his mother alone in the kitchen and no sign of his father. His mother glanced up at the noise, smiled a little to see him, and then waved the boy over, putting a finger to her mouth to indicate the boy should be quiet. She needn’t have told him.
“Where is he?” the boy whispered.
“Resting in the other room. We’re fortunate that pirate didn’t accidentally kill him,” his mother answered, frowning. She put her hands on either side of the boy’s face. “Oh, eggplant, where have you been? I worried after leaving you with that horrible man. Where are the baskets? Weren’t you cleaning the--?”
“Mom, Mom, don’t worry about that,” the boy replied, grabbing his mother’s wrists and gently pulling them from his face. “He’s taking us. He can take us away from here.”
“Taking us? Who?”
“The pirates! Their captain offered to take us both away from here. Away from him.” The boy pointed towards his parents’ bedroom door, where he knew his father was probably resting. “We can start a new life, Mom! Come on, we need to pack.”
Looking at the expression on his mother’s face, the sadness in her eyes, the boy knew the tricorne man was right. It was a lost cause. But he had to try anyway.
“Please, Mom! You can be a great chef, just like you always wanted. And we can search all the seas until we find the All…” The words died on the boy’s tongue as tears began falling down his mother’s cheeks. Soon, they were falling down his as well. “You’re…you’re not coming.”
His mother slowly shook her head and then pulled him into a hug.
“I’m sure you will, Little Eggplant. Become a great chef. Find the All Blue,” his mother whispered in his ear. “But this is my place. Here.” She pulled back out of the hug. “Come on, I’ll help you pack. At the very least, you’ll be the only pirate on that ship with a decent razor.”
*****
The dawn came with a deceptively bright and cheery glow. The tricorne man stood on the main deck of his ship, drinking from a flask, and looking like his focus was completely on the crew working before him and definitely not on the sullen young man trudging up to his ship with his blond head lowered.
Still, when the boy reached the prow, eyes dry, everything he owned in a pack on his back, his voice rang loud and clear through the still dawn, “PERMISSION TO COME ABOARD, CAPTAIN!?”
“Granted!” Came the answering reply. The tricorne man smiled. “Welcome aboard, lad!”
*****
“If you’re not going to shave, you could at least keep your beard neat and trim, Captain,” the boy groused, then glanced around the crew. “And that goes for all of you!”
The captain laughed. “A neat and clean pirate? Well, I suppose that’s not a bad idea for the man who handles the food.”
“Just wait till you grow whiskers of your own, boy!” one of the other crew members shouted.
“Hmm. A bit of facial hair wouldn’t look bad on you, lad,” the captain noted, rubbing his chin in thought. “Would give you a bit of a more rugged appearance.”
“Rugged?” the boy asked, giving it some thought.
“Or maybe ‘distinguished’ would be the better word? Especially since you’re planning to shampoo it every day or what have you.” The captain laughed again. The boy bristled.
“I am not!”
“Bet he ties it up in little ribbons!”
“I will not!”
*****
“Keep the leg up, lad, as long as you can stand it!” the captain ordered. “Your life may very well depend on this someday!”
The boy stood, one leg held out to the side parallel to the ground, the other with the knee slightly bent, trying to keep his balance. The leg in the air was tiring quickly and the boy shook with exertion. Still he held the leg up.
“Can’t…I…just…learn to…throw…a punch?” the boy panted.
“And break your fists? How are you gonna cook for us then, lad?” the captain pointed out. “You wanted to learn how to use my fighting style, but only the kicks. So you need to make sure your legs are strong.”
The boy held out the leg a few moments more before finally dropping the leg to the deck and collapsing soon after.
“Back up!” the captain ordered. “You gotta have steady legs under you if you want this fighting style to work for you. Maybe embellish it a bit.”
“Embellish it?” the boy questioned, ringing himself back up on shaky legs. “I think I’ll stick to have sturdy legs for sturdy kicks, thank you.”
The captain smiled. “Either way, back up, lad. Time for the other side.”
*****
“A cook for a captain?!” one of the men laughed. “That’s even crazier than your All Blue story! Whoever heard of a cook being the captain of a ship?!”
“Hey, it could happen!” the boy protested. He was a bit older now, fourteen, and finally sprouting the beginnings of a mustache and beard. As he promised, his facial hair remained trimmed and tidy. “There was a pirate crew a few years ago who were all musicians! So why not a crew of cooks?”
The captain chuckled in response as he made a note in the book before him. “Let the boy have his dreams. After all, that’s what we’re all out here for right? Dreams and treasure.”
The boy tilted his head at the book. “Say, Captain, what’s that?”
“Hmm? Oh this? The ship’s log,” the captain explained. “It’s where I write down all of our adventures! If you ever become a captain of a ship of cooks, make sure you keep one too. Very important to have all those recipes written down…”
“Hey!”
“Oh! And instead of a pirate hat, get one of those chef hats! The tallest one you can find!”
“Hey!”
*****
“I count eight Marine ships, Captain!”
“We’re surrounded!”
“The storm’s only getting worse!”
The situation was bad, but even as he trembled with nerves, the boy was pleased with himself. Despite the rocking of the ship in the waves, he’d been a pirate long enough now that he could keep his sea legs under him. He’d already stowed away the food he’d been preparing in the galley. This time, he’d be able to help with the battle! So far, the captain had only let him into small scraps to test his fighting prowess. But yesterday, he’d turned sixteen and he was ready to…
“Lad!” the captain was grabbing his arm from behind. “Got a mission for you!”
“Wait, what?” the boy stammered at this sudden and unexpected change. It didn’t help that the deck itself was a jumble of disorienting events. Thunder rumbled in the sky. Or was that cannon fire? It was getting difficult to tell between the two.
The captain pulled him towards one of the life boats where two other young men were already seated, a large bag in between them. The boy’s eyes bulged when he realized that the three of them comprised the youngest members of the crew.
“Captain…what’s…I don’t…”
“We’re not gonna make it, lad.” The captain stated outright, shoving the ship’s log into the boy’s chest. The boy clutched it without thinking. “Not this time. Your job is to see this log to safety. Provisions are in the bag. Ration them carefully.”
“No! I can fight, Captain! I can…!”
“If you three are lucky, you’ll reach land and be able to tell everyone our story,” the captain explained, a melancholy smile on his face. “You don’t understand, lad. This mission is dangerous, but you three have the best chance of slipping away unnoticed. None of you have bounties; they’ll leave you alone.”
He was saving them, the boy knew, tears streaking down his face. The boy’s own father would have shoved the boy out of the boat to make room for himself, but his captain…this man, who wasn’t related to him by blood, who had no obligation to him…
“Captain, I…I…thank you…”
“No time for tears, lad. Go.” The captain ordered him. For the last time. The boy nodded, the journal still clutched to his chest and got in the life boat. The ropes creaked as the captain lowered the boat to the rough and dark waters below.
*****
The young men didn’t go far that night, taking turns on watch and keeping an eye on the battle from the horizon. It was difficult in the dark and stormy waters, but the lightning, cannon fire, and eventual flames served as beacons.
With the dawn, the cannon fire finally ended, and the men began rowing back. They reached the remnants of the fight by midmorning. Various debris and flotsam from the ship floated in the water. Of the ship itself, they found nothing.
“Must have sank,” one of the others stated quietly.
And then they began finding the bodies.
Men they’d been drinking and joking with the evening before were reduced to floating, bloated, and mutilated corpses. The boy would never forget how lifeless they all were: eyes blank and limbs flapping like a ragdoll’s when moved. Try as they might, they never found the captain. The boy finally spotted the captain’s tricorne hat floating amongst the debris and fished it out.
“He must have gone down with the ship,” one of the others said, patting the boy’s shoulder. “He would have liked that.”
The boy could only sob in response as he clutched the hat.
*****
Try as he might, the blond boy couldn’t get the other two to ration their food. He tried invoking the fact he was the crew’s chef so he knew what he was talking about.
“What crew?” one of the others shot back sullenly as he took another too-large helping of bread.
They ran out of food in ten days.
*****
They’d been floating at sea for thirty days when the sullen young man from earlier finally went mad.
“You have food, don’cha?!” He screamed. “You’re the chef! I know you’re hiding something!”
“I don’t have any…We just need to save the rainwater or catch a fish or a seagull or…” the boy protested weakly. He was frustrated, tired, and angry. And so, so very hungry. But fighting wouldn’t do them any good. He had to keep calm, give out advice. They couldn’t waste energy fighting.
But the sullen young man was way past that point. He lurched at the boy with what strength he had, his hands going for the boy’s throat.
“If I kill you, we’ll have food for…”
The sullen young man didn’t get the chance to finish that thought, as the blond boy lashed out violently with his foot. Even after thirty days at sea floating around in a dingy, his dead captain’s training remained with him. The sullen young man went flying, his head hitting the other side of the wooden boat with the sickening sort of crack.
The third man got up and checked on the sullen young man. He put his fingers to the unconscious man’s neck and then his eyes widened in shock. A look of horror was on his face as he made eye contact with the blond boy. Then they both looked over at the body… the only source of food left on the boat…
*****
A week later, they finally came upon land. From the looks of the ships coming and going, it looked to be a fairly busy port town.
The blond boy and the remaining young man gave each other a knowing, secretive look. Then they tossed what remained of the body overboard, washed and scrubbed their faces of the evidence as best they could, and rowed for shore.
*****
Four years later, the boy, now a man himself, was ready to go back out to sea. He went to the first bar of the port town where he’d washed up and glared at the men inside. A few of the patrons turned and took note of the blond man who’d entered, but all ignored him. The blond man went to the counter and called the bartender over.
“You had a cook who worked here four years ago. He still here?” the blond man asked. The bartender blinked owlishly.
“Well, y-yes. You got a complaint against him?”
“None. I wanna recruit him for my crew.”
“What?” the bartender asked in surprise. “Young man, you don’t want him for a sailor. He’s loud-mouthed, fowl, and…”
“Exactly. He’s tough and doesn’t take any crap. Bring him out,” the blond repeated, his mustaches twitching. He really should trim them down, but keeping them long like this rather reminded him of his old crew.
The burly cook in question came out, his eyes bulging at the sight of the blond man. “Hey, you’re that skinny kid that washed up! Been a few years, hasn’t it?”
“That’s right,” the blond replied. “I’ve got an offer for you. Join my crew.”
The burly man stared at the blond for a moment. Then he burst into laughter. “My gods, boy! How old are you? Seventeen? Eighteen?”
“Twenty,” the blond lied smoothly. The burly man grinned, as though seeing through the lie easily.
“Twenty, huh?” He said, rubbing a finger under his nose. “Well, you don’t lack for guts, kid. Alright, I’ll join ya. Better than rotting in this dump forever.”
“Hey!” protested the barkeep.
With that, the blond had his first crew member. He decided not to mention that he didn’t even have a boat yet.
*****
“You coulda told me you didn’t have a boat yet!” the burly man shouted as they sailed out of the harbor on their newly stolen vessel.
The blond laughed. “Decided it was better off as a surprise!”
“Well, we’re pirates now for sure,” the burly man stated, glancing back at the harbor. Fortunately, no Marines seemed to be chasing them. Probably because the blond had already kicked holes in all their ships before taking this one. “I’ll say one thing for you boy, going on an adventure with you is sure not going to be boring.”
*****
Over the years, the blond’s crew expanded, as did his reputation. His legs were so strong, they could smash rocks and his footprints could bend iron. And he took out his enemies with kicks so powerful, blood often covered his boots. He and his crew explored, raided, and gathered recipes from all Four Blues. At one point, he and his crew even dared to explore the Grand Line in search of the All Blue—they lasted a year before heading back to calmer waters (“Let’em keep their One Piece!” the blond shouted to his crews’ cheers as they left). He was firm, keeping his crew in line with an authoritative voice and harsh kicks. While he was a fearsome and temperamental pirate, there were two rules he refused to break (and woe to the unfortunate member of his crew who chose to do so!): physically striking a woman or stealing food. And always, during his adventures, he kept up a log book.
Looking at the blond, no one would mistake him for a boy any longer. His body was thick with muscle, his skin tanned and weather beaten from his years at sea. The blond’s mustaches were long enough now that he really did begin using little ribbons to keep them tidy, though he kept his beard shaved short and neat. There was always a harsh gleam in his eyes and a scowl on his face. But for all his fearsome reputation, his crew knew him as a compassionate man when it counted.
But no matter how big a ship the blond acquired, or how many recipes and techniques he learned, or how many men joined his crew, he always felt a little empty. He had a crew where every man believed in him and all of them had at least some cooking ability. They were great comrades.
But none of them believed in the All Blue.
And then came the day the blond captain decided to attack a ship. A storm was brewing, just like it had that day over twenty-five years ago, but the blond didn’t believe in fate or prophesies or the like. He had a crew to run and a ship in the easy waters of the East Blue was sure to have plenty of wealth onboard.
The blond stood on the figurehead of his ship, The Cooking George, staring ahead at the ship in front of them. A cruise ship, it looked like. He narrowed his eyes, squinting through the wind and rain until he could make out the ship’s name: The Orbit.
*****
It was supposed to be an easy job. Get in, get the loot, get out, be on their way. Then one of the idiots on his crew had to try to steal food. Couldn’t let that slide. Then some stupid skinny blond kid on the damn cruise ship decided he wanted to be a hero. The captain of the Cook Pirates mercilessly kicked him away.
But then the stupid brat came back, gnawing on his boot. With his mouth full of leather, the captain almost missed what the brat said…
“I’m gonna find All Blue one day.”
His crew laughed, of course. The captain kicked the kid away one more time. And that should have been the end of it. They should have gathered the loot and left the cruise ship and gotten out of there before the storm got any worse.
But then a rogue wave came and washed the damn brat right into the damn ocean.
He didn’t know what he was thinking. His crew was screaming after him, but the next thing the blond captain knew, he was kicking a mast and diving in the ocean after the kid.
*****
They washed up on a rock, he and the kid, the wreckage from both ships floating all around them. The Cooking George went down for sure and he was fairly certain The Orbit did as well. But thankfully, he didn’t see a single one of his crew’s bodies this time.
The blond man glanced over at the kid he’d rescued, still unconscious. He’d heard the crew of that cruise ship call the kid by name, but in his mind, the man had come up with his own title for the spunky blond kid that wasn’t afraid to take on a man bigger than himself.
“You’re pretty lucky,” the former captain of the Cook Pirates said as the kid finally came to, “Little Eggplant.”
Remembering what his old captain had done for him all those years ago, he gave the blond kid all the food, leaving himself with nothing but a useless bag of treasure. Then he sent the brat to the other side of the rock to look for ships. Once he was sure the kid was gone, he looked down at his own leg. His kicking style…his fearsome reputation…his days as a pirate would be over for sure.
Well, at least he would be familiar with the flavor.
*****
It was days before the kid came back, armed with his little knife, just skin and bones and hunger. The former pirate captain knew why he was there, the boy had to be absolutely mad with hunger, but he let the fiction go on a little longer.
“Why are you here, Little Eggplant? Thought I told you no communication unless one of us spots a ship.”
“I came for our food! Kill me if you think ou can! I’ll be dead soon if I don’t eat anyway!” He heard the kid yell and then heard the soft steps as the kid came running at the large bag sitting behind the man. He listened as the knife tore at the canvas, the boy desperate to get to the food he thought was inside…
…and a quiet, confused, “What?” as nothing but gold and jewels tumbled out.
The man couldn’t help but chuckle at the irony. “A fortune in gold and nothing to eat. Funny, isn’t it?”
The boy screamed as he grabbed the man’s shoulder, “What about food?! How have you survived?! You said you needed more food!!”
And then he noticed the man’s leg. Or what was left of it.
The boy cried at that point, rambled a bunch of things, but in the end it all jumbled down to one question, “Why?!”
“Because you had the same dream as me,” the man told him simply.
*****
They were both unconscious when the ship finally found them on the eight-fifth day, the blond man and that damn kid that shared his dream. But once they both recovered, the man had had enough of starving out on the sea. He and the new “Little Eggplant” started a floating restaurant. The Baratie. A place where anyone out on the sea could get a meal.
Although he normally hated kids, he had to admit, this one stuck with him through it all. Maybe it was guilt or he had simply latched onto the man’s kindness. Personal experience told the man the kid had likely come from a rough home himself. In any case, since the little brat was sticking around, the man figured he’d make the kid useful. So he taught him how to cook. Never to hit a woman. How to fight without his hands. He made the kid strong. But they fought like cats and dogs, and the man could tell the stubborn Eggplant was cooped up in that stifling environment. He needed to spread his wings and fly. Let go of the guilt and sense of debt that anchored him to the restaurant. To the now old blond man. And so the man did everything he could think of to convince the Eggplant to leave. To find the All Blue. To live their dream. But the stubborn kid refused.
Until the day came when some rubber kid in a straw hat crashed a cannonball right into the blond chef’s office. A lot of things happened that day, but in the end the kid in a straw hat did what the man had been trying to do for years-- he convinced the Little Eggplant to leave with him on his pirate journey, to do two impossible dreams: find the One Piece and find the All Blue.
The blond man had been known as many things throughout his life. Little Eggplant. Red-Leg. Boss. But as he stood on the Baratie’s balcony and looked out at the kid he had raised these past ten years, he couldn’t help but think “Crap Geezer” was his favorite one somehow.
“Hey, Sanji!” the blond man called to the kid as he prepared to leave. “Don’t catch cold.”
There was a long pause. Then a cry of, “Owner Zeff!”
He got a little teary-eyed as the kid cried out, “I’m eternally grateful for taking care of me for so damn long! And I’ll never forget for the rest of my life the debt I owe you!”
He watched as the skinny blond kid (hmm, wasn’t really a kid anymore, was he?) sailed away with the straw hat boy to find the All Blue, his vision blurring with tears. Remembering his mother, Red Leg Zeff smiled as he thought proudly that he wasn’t too bad at raising eggplants himself.
*****
Author's note: This came about as I wondered to myself, you know, we know why Sanji doesn't hit women. But why is Zeff so insistent on it? One theory is that he came from a broken home where his father beat his mother, so as soon as Zeff was old enough, he ran away and joined a pirate crew. I just decided to expand upon it.
-In the process of looking up quotes for this, I ended up rereading the entire Baratie Arc. Forgot what a solid arc that was.