It was an ordinary morning aboard the Thousand Sunny the day Sanji put aside his dream.
The sun had only begun to climb over the horizon. Pale gold spread across the water, catching on the waves and the Sunny’s bright railings. Sanji stood at the starboard rail in suit pants and shirtsleeves, smoking his first cigarette of the day. Most of the crew still slept, save for whoever had the watch. The early breeze filled the sails overhead and pushed his hair across his forehead.
His eyes felt heavy after another restless night. He watched the waves break against the hull and tried to ignore the remnants of the dream that had woken him. The nightmares were always the same now. He’d reach the All Blue only to find a sea of corpses – the people who’d drowned when the sea rose and their islands flooded.
The dream he’d carried since he was a kid locked in a dungeon had become a tragedy waiting to happen, if Vegapunk was to be believed. Sanji had no reason to doubt him. The All Blue might very well exist someday, but its creation could come at the expense of countless lives.
It was a cost Sanji wasn’t willing to pay.
He needed a new dream. Something to strive for to keep him going when his thoughts closed in on him. He'd wanted to open a restaurant on the All Blue, but that wasn't going to happen. Maybe he'd help Zeff set up there and then he'd... do something. Go somewhere. Be adrift.
Sanji took a long pull from his cigarette and watched a gull skim low over the waves before diving after a fish. He started to wonder if he was cursed. It had been one thing after another since Zou. Whole Cake Island. His family. Wano. His body changing against his will. Vegapunk’s message. Even figuring out Conqueror’s Haki had come with strings attached. He’d tied it to love – to finally accepting that loving people didn’t require throwing himself away for them.
Sometimes love meant setting aside his dreams.
Boots thumped against the deck behind him. Sanji glanced over. Zoro crossed toward the rail, scratching his bare stomach with one hand. He wore nothing above the waist, his swords still hanging at his hip. "You look like shit."
Sanji ignored the provocation and tapped ash from his cigarette over the side. “What are you doing up? It’s an hour past your watch.”
"Sent Robin back to bed. She looked a little under the weather." Zoro stopped beside him and leaned back against the rail. The breeze stirred the ends of his hair. He glanced sideways at Sanji. "You getting something, too?"
"Just crap sleep.”
Zoro had a soft spot for the crew that mostly manifested in things he did when he thought nobody would make a big deal out of them. Taking additional watch because Robin looked tired was exactly the sort of thing he’d never bother mentioning again.
Sanji liked that about him, though he’d never say it. "I'll put on coffee in a minute."
Zoro nodded his thanks and turned toward the sunrise. Without a shirt covering him, every scar stood out in the growing light. The long one across his chest. The scar over his closed left eye. Smaller marks scattered over his shoulders and arms, collected across years of fights Sanji had witnessed and plenty he hadn’t.
Sanji studied him for another moment before asking, “If you couldn’t become the world’s greatest swordsman anymore, what would you do?”
"I'd be dead," Zoro replied immediately.
Sanji frowned. "I meant if something else stopped you."
"The only thing that's going to stop me is death."
Sanji blew out an irritated stream of smoke. Talking to Zoro could be an exercise in extracting one useful answer from two hundred pounds of stubbornness. “Okay, fine. After you’ve got the title, what are you going to do?”
“After Luffy’s the Pirate King?”
Sanji nodded.
Zoro shrugged. “Thought I’d make sure everyone else accomplished what they wanted to do. Chopper and Nami’s goals are going to take a while. Yours maybe, too.”
Sanji hid his wince at the reference to All Blue by taking another drag from his cigarette. The tobacco burned hotter near the filter now. He stared across the water while the Sunny rolled gently beneath his feet.
Beside him, Zoro shifted. His forearms settled on the rail. "What's with all the questions?"
Sanji flicked ash from his cigarette. Contrary to what outsiders tended to assume, he and Zoro got along just fine. Their personalities guaranteed arguments. Their hobbies included insulting each other and occasionally trying to kick or cut each other into submission. But if they genuinely hated each other, the crew would have stopped functioning years ago.
“Just...” Sanji hesitated, watching smoke trail away over the sea. “Not sure if I want that restaurant at the end anymore.”
Zoro went still. Sanji expected a question. Maybe an insult. Something about him giving up. Instead, Zoro stayed silent long enough that Sanji finally turned his head.
Zoro was watching the horizon. “You could always come with me,” he murmured.
Sanji blinked. Zoro’s gaze remained fixed straight ahead. A flush had spread across the bridge of his nose and both cheeks.
Sanji took another drag mostly to give himself something to do while he examined this new piece of information. Zoro rarely offered anything vulnerable outright. Even this had apparently required him to address the entire ocean rather than look Sanji in the face.
But Zoro had meant it. Sanji could hear that much.
Warmth bloomed beneath his ribs. "Suppose you need someone to call you on your bullshit."
A small start of surprise flashed across Zoro’s face before a crooked smile pulled at his mouth, crinkling the corner of his eye. "You're the one who's full of shit, crap cook."
"Tch. You'd probably get off the ship and end up in West Blue if I wasn't around to find your lost ass." Sanji finished his cigarette and stubbed it out in the ashtray mounted near the rail.
"Only because your stupid swirly eyebrows got me dizzy first."
"I’m too uncaffeinated to deal with your ugly face this early.” He pushed away from the railing. “C’mon. I’ll put the coffee on.”
Zoro straightened. Passing behind him, Sanji rested his palm against Zoro’s bare lower back and gave him a small push toward the galley. Zoro’s shoulders pulled taut, then loosened again as he started walking. By the time Sanji withdrew his hand, the pink across Zoro’s face had climbed all the way to his ears.
Sanji tucked that away for another morning.
End