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The sea is calm tonight. The Baratie sways softly back and forth, waves gently lapping at the hull of the ship. Through the porthole in the kitchen, Zeff can see stars as they twinkle in the moonlight. He stirs the pot of stew on the stove one final time before covering it with the lid and stepping outside onto the deck. Cool, ocean breeze hits his face. He braces his arms against the railing and stares out over the inky sea.
Tonight is a rare occasion - the eggplant isn’t accompanying him, trailing after Zeff like a little duckling. Sanji had turned in early, bitching about a headache, and Zeff just thought it would be easier to let him sleep it off than hear him complain about it through their lesson. It’s fine, though. He’s not worried. The kid can handle himself. Besides, when does Zeff ever get a moment to himself? To breathe without thinking about the kid he’s all but adopted?
He still worries. Now he just does it on the deck of the restaurant.
Nights when Sanji doesn’t join Zeff are quiet and usually turn contemplative. There’s something about the sea that brings Zeff inside his head, slipping into silent reflection on his life, his choices, his mistakes. He’s almost come to prefer having the kid around, if only to give him enough of a distraction to not think about shortcoming and failures and would-have-beens. Tonight, Zeff finds his mind drifting to thoughts of the All Blue as he gazes out over the dark ocean, moonlight glittering on the waves.
He’d almost stopped believing it was even real before he met the brat. When his search for it on the Grand Line came up woefully empty, Zeff had been nothing short of crushed. He and his crew returned to the East Blue, dreams dashed and funds low. It wasn’t like Zeff could just take his men back to the Grand Line. They’d already survived one voyage on it; he wasn’t going to force them again just to chase after a silly pipe dream that might not even be real. Zeff had resigned himself to giving up on the All Blue. Out of sight, out of mind.
Hearing Sanji utter its name on the Orbit was like a knife to the gut.
He remembers the day he met the brat clear as water. The torrential downpour around them, the way the eggplant had crawled on the deck of the ship just to defy him. The screams that escaped his mouth, declaring the dream they shared. Zeff had been shocked, unable to believe there was really another person with the same outlandish dream as him. Sure, it was a kid. Kids are supposed to believe in silly fairy tales. But him ? Fearsome pirate captain Red-Leg Zeff was done with wishful thinking. At least he thought he was.
Ever since that fateful storm, Zeff has made a promise, both to himself and to the sea. He will keep the kid safe, long enough to keep their shared dream alive. The spark of the mythical All Blue was rekindled that day, coming back to life the moment Sanji spoke. Zeff has committed himself to teaching the kid anything he can, from how to treat a lady to how to kick a man’s ass. Of course, he teaches him how to cook, too, but that came with the job description.
He hopes one day, the Baratie can serve fish caught in the seas of the All Blue.
Zeff lets his mind drift further, wistfully recalling memories, when the sound of the door to the deck banging open startles him from his reverie. He swears and whirls around, leg ready to wallop whoever is here disturbing his peace.
Oh. It’s just the kid.
The brat’s chest is heaving, like he’s been running and is out of breath. One small hand is still braced on the open door, and his visible eye is wide and watery as it frantically searches over Zeff. If he squints, Zeff can see dried tears on the boy’s cheeks. He relaxes minutely as Sanji catches his breath, chest still hitching unevenly. The kid sniffles wetly, gulps for air again. Zeff can’t take this anymore.
“What happened, eggplant?”
The kid tries and fails to control his breathing. He makes an aborted noise like he’s going to start speaking, but doesn’t know what to say. Eventually, all he gets out is “You’re outside.” It’s stilted and breathy, intercut by the threat of tears burning behind the kid’s eyes. Zeff’s chest aches.
“Sure am.”
“You…you’re making stew.”
“Indeed. Now why are you awake?” Zeff asks bluntly. “Thought you had a headache.”
“I did,” the brat mumbles. “Tried to sleep.” He goes quiet after that. Zeff can connect the dots.
He’s no stranger to the kid’s frequent nightmares. Zeff has heard the boy wake up screaming countless times since their rescue, and though the bad dreams have become more sporadic, they always leave the same impact. Sanji ends up too freaked out to sleep properly, and Zeff has a whiny brat on his hands the next morning.
He offers comfort the best way he can, which feels like little comfort at all, but it seems to help. All the kid wants is to be near him, except on the nights when he flinches away from Zeff’s large hands and even larger stature. Those nights are hard, when his presence reminds the kid of something he’d rather forget, but he sits in the armchair in the boy’s room and waits for Sanji to come to him. Eventually, the kid will crawl up into his lap, silently pleading to be held, and Zeff lets him. He never knows what to say to the eggplant, so he just rests the boy’s head over his steadily beating heart and waits for him to fall back asleep. There’s no screaming of insults, no flying of feet - just the steady rise and fall of Zeff’s chest as it soothes the boy in his arms. He thinks Sanji just needs the warmth of another body, the safety of letting someone else take the reins.
How Zeff came to be synonymous with safety to the kid is beyond him.
Now, he sighs, and motions for the boy to come closer, which he does. Sanji is still sniffling, but his breathing has calmed down, only hitching occasionally. He pauses for a moment before deciding to sit on the edge of the deck, feet dangling over the edge and little head thunking against Zeff’s flesh leg. Zeff stares out at the ocean. Neither of them speak for a while, the only sounds being the gentle crashing of waves against the Baratie and Sanji’s slowing tears. Eventually, the brat pipes up in a small voice.
“Do you still think the All Blue is even real?”
Zeff damn near chokes.
“Why would you ask me that, kid?”
Zeff is defensive, so Sanji gets defensive right back. “Fine! Sorry I asked, shit geezer,” he pouts, punctuating his words with a sniff. Zeff looks down at the boy at his feet. He has his forehead pressed against the bars of the railing now, fingers playing with the wood. “It’s just…I don’t know. It’s stupid. I’m stupid for even thinking it.”
“Well, how can I decide if you’re being stupid if I don’t know what the problem is?” Zeff tries to tread lightly, never one for caution or concern. He watches the boy huff out a sigh.
“I don’t know,” he repeats. “I’ve believed in it for so long, been told that it was pointless even longer. I’m just…used to disappointment, I guess. Don’t want to get my hopes up anymore.” The brat sounds defeated. He looks it, too.
Zeff has never seen him like this.
Sanji is normally on fire, spirit blazing and mouth moving a mile a minute. He always has an opinion to spout off or something to complain about. The kid is never at a loss for words, much less sounding hopeless. It’s unsettling.
“Did someone give you a reason not to believe in it anymore?”
The eggplant just shrugs.
“Well,” Zeff starts, “consider this a sign to keep going.”
“I didn’t pluck your skinny ass out of the ocean for nothing, kid. I told you why. It’s because we share the same dream. In a sea of people calling us dumb and saying we’re fools for even thinking such a thing could be real, we held onto hope. Hell, I was about to give up before I met you. Had left the Grand Line empty handed, until you crawled across the Orbit to bite at my ankles and scream about the All Blue. You gave me a reason to start believing again. So don’t go giving up on me now, brat! You’re young. You’ve got fire. You have so much time left to make your mark on the world.”
He looks down at Sanji. The kid is staring up at him, wide-eyed and reverent. “If anyone could find the All Blue, I’d put my money on you.”
Sanji buries his face in the back of Zeff’s knee.
“Shitty old man…”
Zeff lets the kid compose himself, quivering breaths tickling against his pant leg. Eventually, he pulls back, swiping at his cheeks but with a small smile on his face. Zeff feels one of his own pull at his cheeks.
“How about we go check on that stew? It’s been simmering for a while.”
“Can I stir?”
“Sure thing, kid.”