Chapter Text
Sanji’s just finishing up with the lunch rush when a bloodcurdling scream from out on deck manages to make it all the way back to the kitchen. Letting out an exasperated sigh, he shares an eye roll with Zeff, motions for one of the junior chefs to take over, and heads for what (or rather who ) he just knows will be the source of the problem.
“Goddamned idiot moss,” he mutters, doing his best to keep his features schooled into an expression of polite indifference as he makes his way through the dining room, aiming to maintain the current customers in a state of minimal alarm. “One of these days I’m going to kick him into the ocean and let him drown .”
He says this last part perhaps a little more forcefully than necessary if the way a nearby waiter jumps and scrambles out of his path is anything to go by. On the other hand, it’s not like his ire isn’t well-deserved.
Another scream rings out as he exits the main building and steps out onto The Baratie ’s front deck. Determining that all the commotion is coming from the direction of the unloading bay, Sanji turns towards it, lighting a fresh cigarette as he goes.
He smokes irritably as he moves, long strides eating up the deck until he rounds a corner just as a third, piercing shriek hits the air, this one containing a garbled plea for mercy as the owner of the voice sprawls flat on his back not far from the dock.
“Oh what in the hell ?!”
Sanji stares. It’s Zoro who’s got the hapless man cornered, alright, but whatever’s going on is more serious than expected. Zoro has not one, not two, but all three swords drawn, and he’s even gone so far as to tie his bandana around his head.
“Oh absolutely not !” Sanji hisses, gesturing wildly with his half-smoked cigarette. “We have had this discussion a million times, you Neanderthal! Sit! Stay! Heel ! Step away from the customer and don’t you dare destroy my ship.”
Zoro glares at him, his good eye flashing, but makes no move to shift Kitetsu away from his victim’s throat. “Crates,” he growls around Wado’s hilt.
“Huh?” Confused, Sanji looks around until he finds what Zoro must be referring to, a trio of empty packing crates that had been used during their latest supply run. At the swordsman’s nod, he wanders over for a look, peering over top to see behind them.
A pair of huge blue eyes framed by a tiny face streaked with dirt and tears stare back at him. Sanji blinks and leans away from the crates, wondering what the hell is going on.
“Marimo?”
“Caught him throwing her across the deck when I came down from the crow’s nest,” Zoro confirms, venom leaking from every word. “Said he was gonna cut off her hand.” He presses down with Kitetsu, the blade slipping just far enough to draw a drop of blood. “Figure I’ll cut off his head and see how he likes it.”
“Because that won’t traumatize her any further,” Sanji snorts. He recognizes the man now, the captain of a merchant ship whose crew had formed the bulk of today’s lunch patrons. “Back off, mossball.”
Zoro, predictably, does not back off. The captain, however, possibly sensing a shot at salvation, shifts as much as he dares to look at Sanji. “She’s a stowaway!” He yelps. “We’d noticed food had been going missing, thought it was maybe rats or something, but my cook caught her in the pantry a few minutes back. She’s a fucking thief!”
“She’s a kid,” Zoro growls, which is definitely true. There’s no way the girl is older than six, seven at the absolute most. “Also,” he adds, now sounding smug, “you just screwed yourself.”
The captain blinks, clearly confused, while across from them, Sanji drops the remnants of his cigarette to the deck, grinding it out beneath his heel. “I don’t take kindly to people denying others food,” he notes. Then he jerks his thumb at the crates behind him, nodding at Zoro. “I’ll take our young guest inside. You … deal with this.”
Zoro’s answering grin is as feral as the captain’s yell is terrified.
*****
Having ordered all staff out of the kitchen, Sanji stares at their newest arrival where she’s perched on a bench, all her limbs tucked as close to her body as she can manage, like she’s trying to make herself appear as small as possible. He flatly refuses to recognize this kind of defensive posture.
“You got a name?”
Silence.
“You want to tell me how you ended up on that ship?”
Silence.
“You hungry?”
Silence, but this time accompanied with a slight twitch that must signal something. Sighing, Sanji does what he does best while under stress and begins pulling ingredients out of cupboards. “I’ll whip something up. Any allergies I should know about?”
Now the silence just seems confused.
“Right.”
He’s putting the finishing touches on a bowl of noodles when the sound of swinging doors heralds Zoro’s arrival. The swordsman saunters in like he owns the place, his swords sheathed and his bandana once again wrapped around his bicep.
Sanji watches him out of the corner of his eye, most of his attention still on the food. “Are those merchants gone?”
“Mhm.”
“Their captain still have his head?”
“Yep.”
“What about both his hands?”
Zoro’s answering smirk says far more than any words could.
“Brute,” Sanji sighs, pulling the pot from the stove and moving it to a nearby sink to drain the excess water. “You’re the worst thing to ever happen to this place’s reputation.”
In answer, Zoro nicks an apple from an available bowl of produce, chomping into it with no sign of concern as he wanders over to take a seat across from their unexpected guest. “You okay, kid?”
“She hasn’t said anything yet,” Sanji informs him, now dumping noodles into a proper sized bowl and grabbing a set of utensils. He places the whole arrangement down in front of the kid, frowning when all she does is stare at it suspiciously. “Well, go on then. You’re obviously hungry.”
And not just hungry, either. All too familiar with the sight of tight skin and visible bones, Sanji recognizes someone whose last real meal had been a while ago. “It’s good, I promise.”
The kid stubbornly refuses to reach for the utensils. “Don’t have any money,” she finally mumbles.
“And lo, she speaks!” Sanji says sarcastically. “I don’t care about money. If someone needs feeding, I feed them, regardless of the circumstances. So, eat.”
She peers at him through a fringe of matted hair. It might be brown or possibly dark blonde, but she’s so dirty it’s impossible to tell. Added to her prominent cheekbones and the clothes that have seen better days, it paints an easily understandable picture.
He huffs, unsure of how to proceed. Maybe he should go find Zeff and see if he has any suggestions? The old coot couldn’t do any worse than Sanji himself currently is.
“You need to eat,” he tries next. “Refusing doesn’t serve any purpose.”
The kid remains stubbornly silent, even as she keeps sneaking glances at the steaming bowl, clearly interested in its contents.
For some reason, the whole thing makes Zoro laugh. Finishing off his stolen apple, he sets the core down on top of the table and grabs the fork that’s resting next to the pasta bowl, stuffing it into the dish and swirling it around until it’s heavily loaded with noodles. Then he shoves the whole mess into his own mouth.
“S’good,” he says over Sanji’s infuriated sputtering, one cheek bulging as he talks with his mouth full. “Cook ain’t got a bad meal in him.”
“Oh my god, that’s not even proper grammar, you absolute oaf!” Sanji barks, thumping him in the back of the head. “And I didn’t make that for you! There’s plenty more where it came from if you’re hungry too.”
“Nah,” Zoro drawls, holding out the fork to their guest as he swallows. “I just figured our friend here might want proof you weren’t trying to poison her.”
“Poison - I would never !” Sanji screeches. He’s all too aware that he sounds like a cat that’s just had its tail stepped on, but he can’t help himself. Zoro’s always had an innate ability to send him to newfound heights of fury simply by existing. “I will kill you.”
“Sure,” Zoro says, nodding agreeably, “but you might want to get her some seconds first. I don’t think what she’s got there is gonna last much longer.”
“Huh?” Following the other man’s gaze, Sanji finds that the kid is now cramming noodles into her mouth, the bowl already having half-emptied in the time he and Zoro have been arguing. “Fucking hell.”
“Mhm,” Zoro hums. “You did make more, didn’t you?”
“Of course I made more,” Sanji retorts, mildly disgusted as he realizes the kid is using the fork Zoro had previously had in his own mouth. “This is so unsanitary. God knows what she might catch from you.”
“Pretty sure it’s not God who’s on a firsthand basis with what I’ve had in my mouth,” Zoro replies, grinning horribly when Sanji makes an appalled noise. “You might want to look in a mirror for that one.”
Sanji has to fight down a sudden urge to cover the kid’s ears. Luckily, she’s too engrossed in chasing the last few stray bits of food around with her fork to be paying them serious attention. “You’re the worst,” he hisses.
Zoro gives him an unconcerned shrug in return. “I think she’s done.”
Allowing the distraction for now, Sanji turns back to the kid, only to find her watching him with an expression that’s roughly three parts wary and one part hopeful. She pokes awkwardly at the table. “Is there really more?”
And what’s Sanji supposed to do with that? Obviously he goes and gets her another bowl.
*****
The kid eats three full bowls and the better part of a fourth before she starts to flag. Since they’re coming up on the start of supper hours and he needs to let the other chefs back in anyway, Sanji momentarily battles with himself before finally looking at Zoro.
“You may as well find someplace to take her where neither of you will be in the way,” he decides. “This area is about to get insanely busy and I don’t need either of you underfoot. We can figure out our next steps once I’m done here.”
Zoro gives him a look he can’t parse out, but nevertheless follows it up with an acquiescing shrug. “Fine,” he says. “I’ll take her up to the living quarters, maybe see if we can find something else for her to wear.”
Sanji doubts they’ll find anything that’ll fit their unexpected guest - even the youngest of the waitstaff is a gangly limbed eighteen year old with longer limbs than he knows what to do with - but that is a problem that needs addressing. As is the fact that the child is desperately in need of a bath.
“I’m not sure you’re the best person to be putting in charge of hygiene, but whatever,” Sanji declares. “Just get out of here and take her with you. I’ll come find you when I’ve got some time to spare.”
“Sure.” Standing up from the table, Zoro rounds the corner and offers the kid a hand to help her down, only to draw it back quickly when she glares at him. “Okay okay,” he says, hands held up in a clear bid to show he means no harm. “I get it, you can do it on your own.”
“We’re just gonna go through here,” he adds, gesturing at the back doors. “And then we’re gonna go upstairs where we can stay out of everybody’s way and hopefully find you some clothes that don’t look like you’ve been wearing them for six months straight. How’s that sound?”
The kid eyes him for what feels like an hour but in reality is probably only a few minutes. Finally, she nods stiffly and carefully clambers down from her seat, still keeping a wary amount of distance between herself and Zoro.
For his part, Zoro appears far more at ease with the whole mess than one might expect. Shooting Sanji a bemused look, he pushes open one of the two swinging doors, gesturing the kid in front of him with a wave of his other arm.
She’s almost cleared the threshold when Sanji hears a familiar clumping sound that signals the arrival of the person he’s most dreading to see.
Zeff stops in the middle of the doorway, both eyebrows up and his moustache slanted to the side as he stares down at the kid that barely comes up to his knee. He glances first at the girl, then at Zoro, and lastly at Sanji.
“You stealing kids all of a sudden there, Eggplant?” He asks, crossing his arms over a chest that’s become no less muscular despite the fact that he’s well past seventy now.
“I am doing nothing of the sort,” Sanji snaps, pointing an accusing finger at Zoro. “Apparently she was stowed away on a guest’s ship, and that one took umbrage with how the captain reacted when she got caught.”
“I see.” His eyes narrowing, Zeff places both hands on his hips and leans down until he and the kid are practically nose to nose. “And what do they call you then, little one?”
“Amalie,” the kid squeaks, and immediately looks like she regrets it.
Zeff, however, merely straightens back up to his full height. “Huh,” he says, thoughtfully. “Pretty name.” He walks past her into the kitchen, seemingly uninterested in prying any further.
Sanji, who recognizes a trap when he sees one, waves Zoro off, indicating that he should take his young charge with him. Only once they’re both out of sight does he meet Zeff’s gaze. “What?”
“What do you think?” Zeff asks in return. “Exactly what do you think you’re doing here, brat?”
“I told you,” Sanji starts. “Mosshead stumbled over some asshole attacking her and dealt with the situation. Unfortunately, since she wasn’t supposed to be on the ship she came from to begin with, we are now the ones stuck trying to figure out what to do with her.”
Zeff rolls his eyes. “Eggplant, I can already tell what you’re going to do with her. The fun part is going to be watching how long it takes you to realize it.”
“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?” Sanji demands, but Zeff ignores him in favour of beginning to bark orders at the staff who are now trickling in. “Ugh, be less helpful. I dare you.”
*****
By the end of the dinner rush, Sanji’s tired enough that he’s half forgotten the day’s earlier events. This is why he nearly has a heart attack when he opens the door to his quarters and is confronted with a mildly damp, spiky haired urchin who’s currently sitting on his bed and swimming in a shirt that’s much too big for her.
“What the fuck?!”
“Language,” Zoro’s voice drifts out from the ensuite that’s attached to their room. “You’re not supposed to swear in front of kids until they’re, I don’t know. Older than she is, that’s for sure.”
Sanji refuses to be lectured on appropriate behaviour by a man who decapitates people on the regular when the mood strikes him. “What are you doing in there?” He calls. “And also,” he adds, giving the kid - Amalie, he now remembers - another once over, “didn’t she have more hair earlier?”
“Funny enough, the answers for those questions go hand in hand.” Zoro’s voice becomes less muffled as he pokes his head out the bathroom and jerks his chin towards their guest. “There was no getting through all the mats so I had to cut them. You do not want to come in here right now.”
Drawing nearer to the bed where Amalie is sitting, Sanji freezes. “What,” he asks worriedly, “did you do?” He gives the shorn locks a closer look, his eyes widening. “Marimo, did you use a knife for this?”
Zoro shrugs before ducking back out of sight. “It was all I could find. She said she didn’t care.”
Muttering under his breath, Sanji eyes the haphazard hack job. “I am so sorry about this,” he says, trying to remember where some actual scissors might be to see if he can improve on the mess. “He’s an idiot.”
Kicking her bare feet against the side of the bed, Amalie scowls at him. “I like him,” she says, crossing skinny arms over an equally skinny chest. “And my hair’s fine. You’re just a jerk.”
Sanji feels his own eyes narrow without conscious thought. “I,” he says slowly, “am the person who voluntarily fed your sorry carcass and let you stay here rather than dumping you back on the ship you came in on. How about a little gratitude, hmm?”
Amalie looks away, but she’s not quick enough to hide the way her scowl gets even more fierce. “I didn’t ask you to do any of that,” she says. “I can take care of myself.”
“I’m sure,” Sanji scoffs. “What were you even doing on that ship? How did you get there?”
“Neither of those are questions she wants to answer,” Zoro says, exiting the bathroom for real this time. “Trust me. I already tried asking them.”
“Fine,” Sanji says then. “How about we try a more important one.” He snaps his fingers until he has the girl’s attention again. “Where were you trying to go?”
She stares at him for a long time, her expression pinched. “Nowhere,” she says finally. “I don’t have anywhere to go.”
Sanji blinks. “That doesn’t make any sense. You must have had some destination in mind. Why get on that ship if it wasn’t heading anywhere you cared about?”
Zoro’s hands land on his shoulders with more force than necessary. “Cook, I think it’s fair to assume she doesn’t want to tell us any of that. Drop it for now.”
“But,” Sanji starts, stopping again when Zoro’s grip tightens pointedly. “Fine, whatever.”
Planting his hands on his hips, he gives the kid a long, considering look. “I guess the question becomes what do we do with you now? You’re obviously with us for at least the night, but where the hell are we going to put you?”
“Spare crew’s quarters?” Zoro suggests.
Sanji thinks it over. They’re not fully staffed at the moment, having had not one but two chefs up and quit after their last pirate raid - both of the men too young and too green to have been ready for all the shit the Grand Line tends to throw at people - so those rooms are technically available. On the other hand …
“That’s all the way on the other side of the ship,” he points out. And it’s not that he doesn’t trust his crew, he knows full well not a soul among them would ever harm a kid, but it still doesn’t feel right, putting a little girl in there.
On the other other hand, it’s that or they give her their room and go bed down in a storage room for the foreseeable future. Nothing about that sounds appealing either.
“Fine,” he says, his mind made up. “I guess it’ll do for now. I’ll show her where she’ll be staying,” he adds, wanting to head off any suggestions to the contrary before they start. “It’s been years and you still can’t find your way around down there without help. I don’t need the pair of you getting lost in the bowels of the ship.”
“I can find my way just fine,” Zoro says, crossing his arms over his chest sulkily.
Unfazed, Sanji gives him a condescending pat on the shoulder and proceeds to ignore this blatant falsehood.
*****
Amalie allows herself to be led to the spare crew quarters without any fuss, trailing behind him like a tiny, silent shadow. She nods stiffly when he shows her where the bathrooms are, and blankly eyes the room he offers once that’s done.
Unsure of what to say, Sanji bids her a stilted goodnight and quickly whisks away, uncomfortable in the face of her palpable consternation. He stops only long enough to warn the rest of the staff about her presence, making it clear in no uncertain terms that they’re not to bother her.
Doing so gets him a bunch of confused responses from the newer members, but the old timers - Patti and Carne in particular - are surprisingly unmoved by the whole thing. Both old chefs barely blink at the news, nudging each other with what might be a knowing air until Sanji glares them both into submission.
Not wanting to deal with the resulting headache that asking them what they’re thinking would cause, Sanji takes his leave as soon as he can, and begins the trek back to his own room where he finds Zoro already undressed and under the covers.
“Don’t tell me you’re that tired, Marimo,” he says as he makes his way back inside. “You didn’t have that exciting a day.”
“More exciting than we usually get,” Zoro retorts, rolling over so he can prop himself up on one elbow as he watches Sanji get undressed. “Been a bit since we’ve seen any action, and the kid was definitely a surprise.”
“Can’t argue with you there.” Shrugging out of his clothes, Sanji tosses them in the hamper that lives in the ensuite bathroom, noting while he’s in there that the space is going to need a better once over in the near future.
“She get settled okay?” Zoro asks when he re-emerges.
“Who? The kid?” Sanji shrugs when Zoro makes a face at him. “She went with me easy enough, but I wouldn’t go so far as to say she was happy about it.”
“Probably scared,” Zoro muses, grunting when Sanji sits down next to him, causing the mattress to dip under their combined weight. “That merchant captain, he wasn’t fucking around. He was going to hurt her.”
“And then you hurt him instead,” Sanji notes, unable to dredge up any sympathy for the departed sailor. “She’s safe now.”
“Mhm,” Zoro agrees. “We don’t have anything kids need though. Like clothes her size and … and toys and shit.”
Sanji blinks down at him, his pre-bedtime cigarette poised to be lit. “She’s not staying ,” he says with more force than is likely warranted. “We don’t have to worry about getting her those things. We’ll either dump her on a suitable boat that comes along, or,” he adds, striking his lighter to avoid looking at Zoro’s incredulous stare, “we’ll bring her along on a supply run and find somewhere on one of the nearby islands to take her in. An orphanage or something.”
Zoro makes a noise Sanji can’t quite parse out. “Seems a little harsh.”
“No, keeping her here where she clearly doesn’t belong and would only get in the way would be harsh,” Sanji counters. “I have enough trouble with you always being underfoot. I’m not adding a toddler to the mix.”
“She’s seven.” Zoro replies. “She told me when I was cutting her hair.”
“I think you mean butchering, but whatever. What’s your point?”
“Seven’s not a toddler. That’s all.”
Sanji stares at him, his cigarette practically forgotten in the wake of fending off whatever harebrained idea is currently percolating in the mossy idiot’s head. “We’re not keeping her,” he says firmly. “It’s not up for debate.”
Zoro makes a thoughtful noise, but thankfully doesn’t move to press the issue any further. Instead, he rolls over onto his other side, the movement effectively signaling that he’s no longer interested in this discussion. “Fine,” he says, voice slightly muffled by his pillow. “Get the light when you’re done.”
*****
Sanji’s been an early riser for most of his life, and the previous day’s bizarre events do nothing to change that. He’s up and dressed before Zoro has even started blinking the sleep out of his eyes, giving the other man a quick peck on the cheek as he leaves to go start his day.
He quickly finds that he’s not the only one. The Baratie ’s deck is bustling by the unloading bay, and he’s confused to find that the small ship they keep on hand for supply runs is out and about to get underway. He’s even more confused to find a fully dressed Zeff supervising the endeavor.
“Old man, what are you doing?” Sanji asks as he approaches. “We just had a shipment come in yesterday.”
Zeff barely spares him a glance as he continues directing preparations for the ship. “It’s not the supplies we got yesterday I’m worried about,” he says once Sanji’s properly within earshot. “It’s the guest we’ve got stashed away in the crew quarters.”
“What, you want us to pack her off before she’s even had breakfast?” Sanji demands. “Geezer, that’s rough even for you.”
This comment earns him a pitying look he’d last seen on the old man’s face the time he’d managed to burn a pasta dish so badly it’d come out black. Given that he’d been nine at the time, he’s not sure what he’d done to deserve it now.
“Kid’s not going anywhere for the time being,” Zeff says gruffly. “Which is why I’m taking a run over to that little island a few hours away. Gonna see what they have that she can use.”
Sanji blinks, confused, but all this does is earn him an eye roll and a shake of Zeff’s head as he heads for the now ready boat. “Don’t burn the place down while I’m gone,” the old man adds, moving up the ship’s ramp with a speed that belies his age.
Since any possible retort would fall on deaf ears, Sanji doesn’t bother to make one. Instead, he shrugs and raises a hand in farewell, taking the time to smoke an early cigarette as he watches the ship depart.
“Guess it’s going to be one of those days,” he says, exhaling a final plume of smoke and then flicking the butt over the side of The Baratie. It’s a bad habit he’d gotten into as a teenager, one he’s lucky Zeff’s not around to see him doing since it drives him absolutely wild.
Normally Sanji would now be heading for the kitchen to start preparing for the morning rush, but with Zoro still in bed and Zeff now indisposed, he suspects it’s up to him to check in on Amalie.
His hands in his pockets, he wanders through the depths of the ship, letting his feet instinctively take him where he needs to go. He passes a few members of the staff as he goes, nodding at each of them in turn, but he’s largely preoccupied with wondering what he’ll find when he reaches his destination.
Coming up on the door of the room Amalie had slept in last night, he pauses, unsure if he’s expected to knock or not. Figuring it can’t hurt, he raps his knuckles sharply on the metal, but ultimately ends up pushing it open when the better part of a minute passes with no answer.
Panic spiking when he’s greeted with the sight of rumpled bedding on the lower bunk but no child, Sanji whirls around when he hears a noise behind him. Amalie’s standing in the hallway, shuffling awkwardly from foot to foot as he gapes at her.
“Where were you?” He demands, giving her a surreptitious once over to try and confirm she’s unharmed. “Why weren’t you in your room?”
“I had to go to the bathroom,” she says, looking at him like she thinks he’s an idiot. “So I did. You’re the one who showed me where it was.”
“Right, yeah,” pressing a hand to his chest in a weak attempt to calm his pounding heart, Sanji groans. “Sorry, I wasn’t thinking.”
“Okay.” She blinks at him, blue eyes oddly shuttered. “Why are you here?”
And isn’t that a question for the ages, Sanji thinks to himself. Aloud, he says, “I came to check and see if you were up. Did you sleep okay? I know the beds aren’t the greatest, but I’m afraid it’s all we had to offer.”
Another blink. Is that normal? Is it a thing kids do? “I slept in a cupboard most nights on the boat so no one would find me. The bed was nice.”
“Right,” Sanji says weakly. “Forget I asked.” He glances down at her, giving her another once over and noting how rumpled the shirt she’s slept in has gotten. “We need to find you something new to wear today.”
“I can wear my old stuff.”
“Absolutely not,” Sanji replies, appalled at the very idea. He’d seen the rags the kid had been sporting upon arrival, and there’s no way they were salvageable. He knows what clothes beyond the possibility of repair look like, after all - he willingly shares space with Zoro. “That outfit was so filthy it was one step away from gaining sentience. No, we’ll find you something else. Come on.”
He offers her a hand, forgetting how she tends to react to such gestures. Just like the night before, she eyes the outstretched limb suspiciously and refuses to take it.
Sanji let’s his arm hover awkwardly in the air for a bit, eventually withdrawing it when it becomes clear no amount of waiting her out is going to work. Shoving his hands in his pockets, he sighs and nods at the door of her room instead. “Alright. Just follow me, I guess.”
“Are you hungry?” He asks, twisting his neck to make sure she’s doing like she’s supposed to. Luckily, she’s trotting along close on his heels. “I can get you some breakfast first if you’d rather we do that before sorting you out for the rest of the day.”
She fidgets with the sleeves of the shirt she’s wrapped in as she walks, the motion causing the neckline to slide over and reveal one bare, skinny shoulder. As if on cue, her stomach rumbles.
“Yeah,” Sanji says, adjusting his heading to take them towards the kitchen as opposed to his and Zoro’s quarters. “We’re feeding you first.”
Unlike the night before, the kitchen is bustling with early morning preparations when he leads her inside, and there’s no way he can kick the staff out given that it’s rush hour. Rolling his eyes at the way all activity grinds to a halt upon their arrival, he sets everybody moving again with a sharp wave of his hand.
“None of that crap,” he barks, glaring at anyone who dares look like they’re about to step away from their stations. “This isn’t the first time we’ve had company back here, and it probably won’t be the last. Get your asses in gear and do your damn jobs.”
A ragged chorus of “Yes, head chef!” reaches his ears, and he uses the distraction to lead a shuffling Amalie over to his own preparation area.
“You’re eating here this morning, so you won’t be underfoot,” he says, watching as she climbs awkwardly onto a stool that he’s dragged over to the counter. “I’d put you in the dining room, but I don’t need guests asking the kind of questions that would lead to. How do you feel about waffles?”
Amalie turns out to feel very strongly about waffles, and they’re feelings of a positive nature. Her eyes grow huge as he sets a stack down in front of her, and she tucks into the syrupy mess with gusto, her cheeks bulging as she stuffs bite after bite in her mouth.
“There’s no need to rush,” Sanji says, an odd pang rattling around in his chest as he watches her eat. Flustered, he sternly tells himself he just likes having people appreciate his cooking. “I can make more if those aren’t enough to fill you.”
Amalie mumbles something that sounds like an affirmative around the fork she has stuffed in her mouth, and Sanji doesn’t have the heart to remind her to use her manners. It’s obviously been a while since the kid’s experienced regular meals, and he’s not so cold hearted as to give her grief under those circumstances.
He’s just placed a second stack of waffles in front of their tiny guest when the kitchen doors swing open and the familiar clomp of heavy boots reaches his ears. As usual, Zoro ignores all rules of propriety in the bustling kitchen, and simply barges through the crowd of chefs who are thankfully used to working around him.
“Oi, cook,” he calls. “What’s for breakfast?”
“Would it kill you to wait outside and order like a normal person?” Sanji demands. “Fuck, mosshead. How many times do I have to tell you this is a restaurant and we have rules for the guests?”
“I’m not a guest,” Zoro retorts, exactly like he always does.
From somewhere in the crowd, a snicker that sounds decidedly like Patti’s rises above the usual chatter. Without even looking, Sanji flings a mixing spoon in the same direction, allowing himself a small smirk of satisfaction when the motion results in a startled yelp.
“My hearing’s still as good as ever, just in case anyone was wondering,” he says, his eyes once again fixing on Zoro as he ignores Patti’s irritated grumble. “As for you, you’re here now, so I guess I may as well feed you.”
“Can’t have me scaring away the paying customers,” Zoro agrees, well versed with this argument since it’s one of Sanji’s favorites. “Do I smell waffles?”
“Yeah, c’mere and I’ll grab you some without syrup.” Sanji says, already moving to find a plate. “We can’t go upsetting that weird pallet of yours now can we?”
Rolling his good eye, Zoro nevertheless sidles up to Sanji’s station, nodding at Amalie when he notices her perched in his usual spot. If he’s bothered by losing it to her, he doesn’t show it. “Mornin’, kid. You sleep okay?”
Amalie’d stopped plowing through her breakfast upon Zoro’s arrival, apparently fascinated by the resulting exchange. Now that the show’s over, though, she seems intent on resuming her meal, answering Zoro’s question with a nod as she takes another big bite of food.
“Appetite’s still good, I see,” Zoro says, accepting the plate Sanji hands him and digging in despite the lack of available seating. “You like the food?”
“That’s her second round,” Sanji confirms as Amalie nods again. “Do you think you can take her for a bit once you’re both done eating, maybe see if you can find her something to wear for the day?”
“Sure,” Zoro replies with an easy shrug. “We’ll find something to do.”
Sanji has a sudden vision of how poorly leaving Zoro unattended with a young child on the ship could play out. Fire and explosions both feature heavily in the images. On the other hand, it’s not like they have anyone else who can watch her.
“Just try not to destroy anything,” he says with a sigh.
*****
The Baratie’ s reputation on the All Blue is as good as it’d been in the East, which means that customers flock to the restaurant from all places. This in turn means the ship is always bustling and every shift is basically nonstop. It’s therefore well into the afternoon before Sanji has a chance to check in on Zoro and his tiny charge.
They’re up in the crow’s nest, this one long since refurbished to be expanded upon and closed in like the one on the Sunny . Amalie’s standing on one of the padded benches, her hands curled over the window sill as she takes in the view. She’s wearing what appears to be another too large shirt, this time with a familiar red sash belted around her waist to keep it in place.
Zoro also has a hand wrapped around the trailing ends of said sash to catch her if she falls, but neither he nor Amalie seem too concerned by that possibility.
“That one has a weird dog,” Amalie’s saying as Sanji climbs through the ladder hatch. “I’ve never seen one like it before.”
“Probably because it’s a hyena,” Zoro replies, and Sanji realizes they must be talking about the ships that are currently docked here for meals. One of the crews definitely has a hyena for a figurehead, as he remembers rolling his eyes at its laughing expression.
“What’s a hyena?”
“Basically a weird dog like you said. They can laugh and their jaws are really strong.”
“They’re actually more closely related to cats,” a new voice says, and Sanji only realizes when both man and child look his way that the words had come from him. Ignoring their joint scrutiny, he shrugs. “Well, they are.”
Scrunching up her face, Amalie glances back and forth between Sanji and the open window. “Doesn’t look like a cat,” she mutters.
“Yes, apparently it looks like a weird dog,” Sanji retorts, belatedly embarrassed by the fact that he’s bickering with a child. “That doesn’t make me any less right.”
“Cook really enjoys being right,” Zoro murmurs, sotto voice. “And he never wants to admit when he’s wrong.”
Amalie makes a noise like she expected as much and turns back to the window. “That one’s got mermaids,” she says, once again pointing at something Sanji can’t see due to the angle.
“Yep,” Zoro agrees, following the direction of her finger. “Three of ‘em.”
Sanji feels his eyebrows rise, and he plants his hands on his hips, giving Zoro a pointed look. “Is this how you’ve been spending your day?”
“Just the last little while,” Zoro replies. “I showed her around the ship for most of the morning.”
Sanji doesn’t want to think about the sheer number of wrong turns that adventure had likely entailed, so he doesn’t. “Did you have lunch yet?”
“Nope, not yet.”
Of course they haven’t. Not missing the way Amalie perks up at the mention of food, Sanji runs a hand through his hair. “I’ll whip something up,” he says. “Do you want to eat in here?”
“Sure.”
Figuring that’s as good an option as any, Sanji quickly makes his way back down the ladder and into the kitchen, where he makes up three trays of food that he then has to carefully balance upon his return.
Amalie falls on lunch almost as fast as she had on breakfast, though Sanji can’t help but notice that her posture is at least slightly less rigid, like she’s no longer convinced someone will take it from her if she doesn’t scarf it down fast enough. She’s also encroaching a little into Zoro’s personal space, obviously less wary of him after most of the day spent in his company.
That doesn’t go unnoticed by Zoro either. He keeps shooting her tiny glances out of the corner of his eye as he eats, his expression difficult to parse out. Sanji’s not sure if he should classify it as amused or pleased or something else entirely, which, after almost a decade of knowing each other, is more than a little disconcerting.
Finished with his own meal, Sanji leans back in his seat and pulls a cigarette from his ever-present pack, lighting it with a flick of his fingers. Taking a heavy drag, he allows himself a moment to just … take in their guest.
Now that her hair’s clean, he can see that it’s a dirty blonde several shades darker than his own. Her eyes are the same bright blue he’d first noticed the other day, and her skin is darker than his but paler than Zoro’s. In some ways, it’s almost as if she’s a mix between the two of them.
Snorting at the thought, Sanji inhales again, enjoying the heavy rush of nicotine as he continues his visual examination.
She’s small for her age. Assuming she hadn’t lied about being seven, her petite stature is one of the most notable things about her. Idly, he wonders if that’s simply a result of genetics, or if it’s an effect of malnourishment. He supposes it could be both.
Granted, it’s probably not helping that she’s been stuck wearing clothes that belong to adults the whole time she’s been onboard. And not just any adult, either. In hindsight, it would have made more sense to give her something of his to put on rather than Zoro’s. He’s at least somewhat slimmer than the walking slab of muscle he shares his life with.
“Somethin’ funny, twirlybrows?” Zoro asks around a mouthful of rice. “You keep snickering over there.”
Scowling, Sanji huffs an exasperated sigh. “Yes, I’m thinking about the big cosmic joke that saw my life end up here. How many times do I have to ask you to swallow? Food! I meant the food,” he adds in a rush when Zoro’s eyebrows go up. “Whatever you’re thinking, Marimo, do not say it. Our present company is not the appropriate audience.”
Zoro blinks. Then glances at Amalie. Then flushes. “Right,” he says, a faint tinge of pink spreading across the bridge of his nose. “Fair enough.”
Feeling smug, Sanji has the common decency not to push the conversation further. Instead, he waits until everyone has finished eating, and then begins stacking the dishes into an arrangement that’ll be easier for him to carry down to the kitchen. “Did everyone have enough?”
He asks the question mainly for Amalie’s benefit, well aware after all these years that Zoro would say something if he wasn’t full. Holding the kid’s gaze until she nods and mutters a quiet ‘yeah’, he lets out a relieved breath.
“Good,” he says, trays now stacked together and balanced in the crook of his elbow. “I meant it when I said no one goes hungry on my watch.”
Amalie gives him a look that suggests she thinks he’s weird, blue eyes watching him curiously like she’s waiting for him to do something unexpected. Then her gaze drops, and she fiddles with a section of her borrowed shirt. “Thank you,” she says quietly. “It was good.”
Sanji has no idea why this comment puts a smug look on Zoro’s face, but he’s not about to get bogged down trying to figure out what’s percolating in the other man’s head. Down that route lies madness.
Instead, he gives a careful nod and retreats to the sanctity of his kitchen.
*****
Zeff’s return is heralded by shouts from the crew and the ringing of a bell from the supply ship. From his spot on deck, Sanji watches as the unloading bay becomes a sea of activity. Then the old man himself appears and stumps down the walkway, easily recognizable thanks to his uneven gait.
“Did you find what you were looking for?” Sanji asks once he’s within earshot.
Zeff shrugs, the motion causing the pack he has slung over one shoulder to shift up and down with the movement of his arm. “The selection wasn’t great,” he replies. “But it was enough to tide us over for now.”
“What selection?” Sanji asks. “We literally didn’t need anything.”
Over Zeff’s shoulder, he watches as men scurry about unloading various crates and sacks, wondering what the old coot could possibly have purchased that they were in such dire need of. “Is this you finally cracking in your old age?”
He doesn’t quite manage to dodge the heavy hand that cuffs him on the back of his head, but in his defense he wasn’t really trying. Still, he grumbles out an irritated noise and makes a show of fixing his hair.
“You are not this stupid, Eggplant,” Zeff sighs. “I told you this morning I was going after stuff for the kid. The rest of what we picked up was just incidental since we were in the area.”
“Here,” he adds, pulling the bag from his shoulder and shoving it in Sanji’s direction. “It’s been a long time since I had to buy clothes for someone other than myself, but I bet I nailed the sizes pretty well.”
“Say what?” Taking the bag since he’s got no other choice, Sanji flips it open and peers inside, belatedly cluing in to what Zeff’s just said. “You took off for a full day to get her clothes?”
“Plus a few other things,” Zeff replies. “What?” He asks, posture defensive when Sanji stares at him, flabbergasted. “She’s our responsibility as long as she’s here, dumbass, so I took some of the boys over to Planetta and sorted that out.”
Planetta is the closest island to The Baratie, a blink and you’ll miss it little speck of land that sports a population of maybe a hundred people on a good day. It’s got virtually nothing to offer beyond its proximity in a pinch like this. Sanji wonders what the townsfolk had thought when Zeff had shown up for his shopping excursion.
“I can’t believe this is what you were up to,” Sanji says, falling into step with Zeff as he begins striding for the main doors. “Although, I suppose in hindsight it does kind of make sense. She’s been wearing Zoro’s shirts since last night.”
“Now you see my concern,” Zeff says dryly. “You might not remember, but I had the same problem with you when you first showed up. Mind you, you were a bit bigger and older than Amalie. Albeit not by much.”
“Yeah, yeah, you’ve made your point.” Sanji grumbles. “I should have thought of this, thanks.”
“You’ll learn,” Zeff says knowingly.
Wondering what the hell that’s supposed to mean, Sanji trails after him into the dining area. They’re closed for the evening, meaning there are no guests to speak of, and Zoro and Amalie appear to have opted to avail themselves to the comfier seating for supper.
Zeff stops in his tracks, the action so abrupt Sanji nearly stumbles into him. “What,” he asks, mustache bristling indignantly, “happened to her hair?”
“Ah,” Sanji says, remembering how he’d been meaning to see if he could do anything to improve on Zoro’s hack job. Unfortunately, he’s been too busy all day to get to it. “That would be the marimo’s handiwork. Apparently, there was no getting all the mats out.”
Zeff blows out a heavy breath. “This,” he says with the air of a man who feels a headache coming on, “is going to be a hell of a steep learning curve.”
*****
Amalie doesn’t quite know what to make of her new clothes once she’s presented with them. She peers into the bag skeptically, like she’s half expecting something to reach out and bite her if she sticks a hand in.
“It’s not much,” Zeff says, crossing his arms over his chest as all three adults watch her cautiously inspect a shirt. “Couple outfits, some pajamas, a coat and a pair of shoes in case you wind up somewhere you need them. Grabbed ya a hairbrush too, but these idiots went and made that a moot point for the next little while.”
Having just picked up the brush in question, Amalie actually giggles at this and mimes running it through her shorn locks.
“It’s not that bad,” Zoro sulks.
Zeff and Sanji both shoot him incredulous looks before glancing over at each other. “And here was me thinking it was only your left eye that didn’t work,” Zeff snorts. “My condolences on losing the other one when nobody was looking.”
“Hey,” Zoro starts to protest, but Zeff cuts him off with a wave of his hand.
“Forget it,” he says. “Come find me after she’s had a bath tonight and I’ll see what I can do. It’s been a while since I last cut a kid’s hair, but I remember it being easier if it’s wet. We’ll see if we can turn that mess into something at least semi respectable.”
His piece apparently said, Zeff nods at them all and then takes off in the direction of the kitchen. Given how late it is, Sanji’s going to assume he’s set on getting himself some supper, while he and Zoro are left to get Amalie sorted again tonight.
And speaking of Amalie, she’s just pulled one last item from the bag with a quizzical noise. “What’s this for?” She asks, holding it up so they can see.
Sanji stares down at the unassuming stuffed bear in her hands, wondering what the hell Zeff had been thinking. Picking up the basic necessities made sense when he stopped to think about it, but anything beyond that seemed like it was asking for trouble.
“Uhh,” he says eloquently, shooting Zoro a confused look over her head.
Zoro looks equally baffled, but he recovers more quickly than Sanji. “A present?” He suggests, voice stilted. “Guess the old man saw it and thought you might like it.”
Amalie frowns, glancing back and forth between the bear and the pieces of clothing now scattered about the table. “I still don’t have any money,” she says cautiously. “I can’t pay you back for anything.”
“No one’s asking you to pay us back,” Zoro says, his tone firm and leaving no room for argument. “We want to help. Right, cook?”
Almost missing his cue, Sanji nods jerkily when Zoro kicks him under the table. “Right, yeah,” he says, ignoring the urge to rub his shin. “No thanks necessary.”
Amalie’s gaze shifts from Zoro to Sanji and back again, clearly searching for some hint of a lie. When she doesn’t find one, she wraps her arms around the bear, holding it tight to her chest. “You guys are weird,” she says, but there’s no hiding the happy note in her voice.
Another kick staves off Sanji’s annoyed huff. Narrowing his eyes at Zoro, he watches as the swordsman raises his own eyebrows in return. ‘Don’t rock the boat,’ he seems to be saying. ‘Let her get comfortable around us.’
Willing to go along with this for now, Sanji does as requested.
*****
“Planetta doesn’t have an orphanage or anything similar,” is the first thing Zeff says when it’s just the three of them again. “I checked.”
Sanji looks up from where he’s absentmindedly arranging a stack of menus for tomorrow, while Zoro cracks his good eye open where he’s reclined back in the seat across from Zeff. “What was that?”
It’s late, but sleep appears to be eluding them all collectively. Amalie - her hair slightly less of a disaster thanks to Zeff and now sporting an actual pair of children’s pajamas - has been packed off to bed for another night. Unfortunately, she’s the only one of them who’d gone down easy.
“I said, Planetta doesn’t have an orphanage,” Zeff repeats. “So if that’s what you’re planning on doing with the little one, you’re going to have to rethink it. According to the woman I spoke with, the nearest one is on Babette.”
“That can’t be right,” Sanji says. “What do all the other nearby islands do when unwanted kids show up?”
“Send ‘em to Babette, I imagine,” Zeff says, rolling his eyes. “Probably because it’s bigger than anywhere closer.”
“Not to mention further away,” Sanji groans. Babette is the largest island around, in fact, it’s their main supplier of goods they don’t catch themselves or have couriered in. They usually do a supply run every month or so, coincidentally that’s the supply run that had returned only yesterday.
“I really wasn’t planning on sending anyone back there again until we had to,” he mutters. “It’s such a pain in the ass.”
“Then don’t.” This comes from Zoro, who now leans forward to rest his elbows on the table in front of him, his chin propped in his hands. “There’s no real reason why she can’t stay here until the ship goes on another run.”
Sanji gives him his best stink eye. “This is a place of business, not a daycare. I don’t have time to play nanny on top of everything else.”
“So I’ll watch her,” Zoro says, bristling when Sanji barks out a laugh. “I had her all day today and it was fine,” he says, shoulders hunching with uncharacteristic defensiveness. “You didn’t see her once, except for when you came looking for us.”
“You’re serious,” Sanji realizes, his laughter fading to be replaced by something more akin to astonishment. “Marimo, you don’t know any more about looking after a kid than I do. That’s a terrible idea.”
“It’s not,” Zoro grits out. “I grew up in a dojo that basically doubled as an orphanage, and the older kids were always expected to help with the younger. I can keep an eye on her just fine .”
Taken aback by how forceful he’s being, Sanji strums his fingers over the countertop as he considers how best to respond.
He’d meant it when he’d said he didn’t want to send the supply ship out again so soon, and Zoro has more free time on his hands than anyone else who calls The Baratie home. When he’s not with Sanji, the bulk of his time is devoted to training or acting as lookout. Aside from the odd challenger for his title or periodic marine attack, he can afford to be flexible.
“You’ll make sure she stays out of trouble?” Sanji asks, frankly disturbed by the fact that he sounds like he’s negotiating the proper care and feeding of a puppy someone’s found on the side of the road. “No disrupting the staff, or worse, the customers?”
“As if you care about the customers,” Zoro scoffs. “You fight with them all the time.”
“Only the shitty ones who deserve it,” Sanji insists. He points one of the menus he’s still pretending to be working with in Zoro’s direction. “Your word, mossball. If I agree to this, you have to promise me it’s not going to become a whole thing .”
Zoro raises his hands in a show of over dramatic surrender. “I solemnly swear to protect your restaurant from the danger that is an abandoned seven year old girl,” he says sarcastically. “Is that good enough?”
“You are not treating this with the gravity the situation deserves, but fine,” Sanji agrees. “We’ll do it your way. She’s here for a month, give or take, and then it’s off to Babette where someone else can look after her.”
A rough hacking sound causes him to look at Zeff, who thumps himself theatrically on the chest in the face of Sanji’s attention. “Sorry,” he says. “Think I’ve got something stuck in my throat.”
Rolling his eyes, Sanji returns to his menus.