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It was cultural day at their school. The special day where everyone was encouraged to celebrate their different heritages and cultures. Kids were paired up in groups, each expected to bring to school something unique from their culture to share with their friends and he’s especially lucked out this year because he’d been paired with his two best friends in the world.
Well, even if he wouldn’t exactly call them that, Aokiji and Kizaru were still his absolute favourite people and the middle schooler blushed just thinking about it. See, Akainu didn’t have a lot of friends and he believed in a really strict and no-nonsense way of doing things, so he wasn’t the most approachable in his class. Although people admired him, most people avoided him and it sometimes made lunch time….really lonely.
However, Aokiji and Kizaru were different! They were his one and only true friends and he could always counts on them to be there for him. A feeling like that was rare for Akainu so he treasured every time they spent together and every fun event they shared.
He’d especially been looking forward to this particular event all summer, after all, both of his friend were from indigenous households, so he could not dare to slack off.
All of the dishes he planned to bring were made by hand. The young boy worked tirelessly in the kitchen with his mother, even when she insisted that she could do it alone. But what if he found out that the others had made their own dishes? Then he’d be the only one slacking off. He would hate it so much. He refused. He had to, he had to do this right damnit!
So Akainu was present for the entire cooking process. He washed the rice and grabbed the oil for the eggs. He fetched water in a pail for his mother and dragged out flour were needed, doing it all with the most serious expression on his face. Cultural day was serious business after all.
The next day, the little boy carried all of his treasured dishes to school, putting them in the designated refrigerator and then heating them up once lunch time came.
Akainu sat excited with his meals at their lunch table of choice, waiting eagerly for his friends to show up at. The young lad was like a kid on a field trip. Of course he wasn’t smiling but his face was so red with excitement that he felt sure everyone was staring at him (probably because he was glaring so hard).
“Yo, what’s up Sakazuki san. You’re early,” Kuzan greeted.
“Kuzan,” Akainu gasped, his fingers digging into his legs to contain his excitement. His dark skinned friend had shown up second, his dark curls tied into a low ponytail as he took his seat at the table.
Aokiji Kuzan was the youngest of the group, the laziest and sometimes the most sluggish when it came to particular matters. Honestly, he was always the last to finish his homework. The dark haired boy preferred to dress in blue, said it was his favorite colour or something. He always had a touch of blue in everything he wore. Today that was blue jeans, complimented by white shirt and sneakers. And of course, Kuzan’s sleeping mask that might as well be one with his hair.
However, Akainu didn’t care about that right now as he eyed the big bag Kuzan had brought with him to the table. Just as he’d expected, his friend had gone all out. One could never underestimate an African American.
“Ah Borsalino san is here too,” Kuzan grinned and waved happily for their other friend who dragged his own package on a little trolley behind him.
“Oooooooh heeeeey guuuuys,” Borsalino grinned, greeting them in that usual slow way that he did. Kizaru Borsalino was Italian, and defeated most of the stereotypes about Italian people speaking fast. Kizaru was the slowest person they knew.
Not to say that he was dumb, he just preferred to move at his own pace, which was often times really slow unless he changed his mind. Borsalino’s favoured colour was yellow. His stripped hat was yellow, his tank top was yellow, and he wore brown pants and sandals. Which was a relief because he’d lose those shoes in a minute and start walking around barefoot.
Sakazuki was the last to talk though since he favoured the colour red. His tshirt was red over black pants and he wore a little red hat that Kuzan said made him look menacing. That was nonsense, a hat couldn’t make others look menacing!
At any rate, Sakazuki gulped, knowing that the time had come. He himself was Japanese and defied a few stereotypes considering that he was bigger in size in comparison to his friends that were a bit more slender. Sakazuki was bigger, muscular and tanned, and Japanese. He was ready to share his culture.
“So what did you bring Kuzan,” Sakazuki asked, taking a leap as he blushed. He wondered if what he’d got would be as good as the others-
“Chicken and watermelon,” Kuzan replied without missing a beat. Uncovering his package on the table to reveal that he had in fact brought with him a bucket of chicken and a large uncut watermelon.
There was the sound of the loudest most ungodly crash within Sakazuki’s soul.
“Huh?”
There was no way. Yeah, the other boy was sure as his eyebrow twitched, staring at Kuzan’s most relaxed posture. There was no way. Borsalino was busy cooing and admiring the watermelon and Kuzan just shrugged like-
“What did you just say?” Sakazuki asked slowly, his eyes wide in dangerous threat that Kuzan was oblivious to.
“Well, I wanted to bring something that I was sure that you guys would enjoy-,” Kuzan started with a nervous rub of his neck.
“Of all the dishes in your culture, this was the only one you thought to bring!” Sakazuki roared.
“Well I wasn’t exactly sure what to get,” Kuzan pouted, looking way too relaxed in his seat for Sakazuki’s liking. “I stayed up all night thinking about it you know. It’s not easy to pinpoint a particular food for our culture. So, I just grabbed this one.”
“Huh?! That’s the most racist nonsense I’ve ever heard in my life. Chicken and water melon?” Sakazuki was losing his mind.
“What? It’s fine if im the one bringing it right,” Kuzan scowled.
“Throw away this low budget disgrace and apologise to your ancestors!” Sakazuki yelled, standing on his chair and pointing at the other boy in rage.
“What kind of chickeeeen?” Borsalino asked with a smile, trying to ease up the tension in the room and Kuzan casually turned the bucket.
“KFC,” the lazy boy yawned.
“You didn’t even make it yourself!” Sakazuki was going to burst a blood vessel at this rate.
“Do you think I’ve got a water melon farm in my garden or something. Of course I didn’t!” Kuzan yelled back.
“Y-you guuuuys-“ Borsalino laughed nervously since all of their shouting was just attracting the worst kind of stares.
“You cretin!” Sakazuki was frothing at the mouth.
“You’re sure talking big huh!” Kuzan yelled and pointed as well. “Why don’t we see what you brought!”
Just for that challenge, Sakazuki pulled out his holy spread, and what a holy spread it was. Borsalino was surprised enough to even crack open his slanted eyes a little wider.
Sushi, onigiri, sausage ocotopi, fried rice, egg rice, ramen?! Sakazuki had brought a whole banquet nearly served in small round bowls and he’d brought chopsticks to eat them with. He even set up a small bonsai in the middle of the table to add to the aura, his cheeks flushing at the look of shock on his friend’s faces.
“So you went all out huh,” Kuzan groaned and sat back in his chair.
“Can’t compete with thaaaaat,” Borsalino chuckled in amusement while Sakazuki blushed, partly because of their compliment and acknowledgment but also because he was so mad at them.
“You’re supposed to take this kind of thing seriously,” he glared and Kuzan sighed, raising his hands in defeat.
“Alright alright I apologise. Geez,” the boy in blue laughed, mouth watering at the aroma coming from the dishes. Sometimes Sakazuki san was too serious. They always joked about it but he’d really gone all out. “Did you make all of this yourself.”
“My mum helped,” Akainu pouted and looked away with a blush.
“I see,” Kuzan smiled and then grinned. “You should thank Mrs Akainu for me. Her cooking is great.”
“Idiot! I said we both made it! Both of us!” Akainu roared. He had not spent all night frying eggs for nothing!
“Now, now, Saka chan’s spread is making me feel kind of shyyyyy,” Borsalino laughed, nervously pulling at the ends of his hat.
“What did you bring, Borsalino?” Sakazuki asked curiously.
“Pizaa and spaghettiii,” the yellow boy smiled as he set it on the table.
“AHO!!!! (FOOL!!!)” Sakazuki screamed and smacked his head so hard the other boy yelped. Kuzan nearly fell out of his seat laughing.
“Why do I even bother?!” Sakazuki seethed in hate. “I went all out and this is how you jerks repay me?! Die! Die! Die!”
He’d so been looking forward to this day! He was so upset! His hands curled into fists and he tried not to scream. Why were these two idiots his friends anyway?!
“Whaaaat? It’s from my culture, isn’t iiiiit?” Borsalino pouted.
“That’s what I was saying,” Kuzan drawled.
“Noooo, you’ve got no right to speak,” Borsalino giggled at Kuzan.
“Oi,” the other boy said in protest but he couldn’t help but laugh too.
“Besides, all of it is hand maaaade,” Borsalino beamed and Sakazuki paused his roaring to take in that information. That was surprising.
“All of it?” the Japanese boy blinked.
“Of course it is,” Borsalino beamed with pride. “Amercians can’t make good food after all. We had to make it all from scratch.”
“Oi,” Kuzan narrowed his eyes, trying to figure out if he’d somehow caught a stray bullet.
“Go on, have a biiiite,” Borsalino beamed, proudly dishing out his spaghetti into some of the spare bowls that Sakazuki had brought. The other two curiously tried it out and then gasped in shock and joy when they tasted it.
“Damn, it’s good!” Kuzan groaned.
“Tasty,” Sakazuki had to admit, staring down at the bowl with a blush of satisfaction.
“Seeeee,” Borsalino beamed and he happily took a bite of the chicken from the bucket. “Ah Kuzan your chicken is tasty too.”
“He he thanks,” Kuzan laughed hesitantly, rubbing the back of his head. “I wanted to make sure you’d enjoy it.”
He’d actually been kind of nervous about cultural day himself. Borsalino san and Sakazuki san were so different and not exactly the more normal people in the world. He truly had wanted to bring something they would enjoy. Perhaps so that it they did critique it, it wouldn’t hurt so much.
But seeing them go all out like this, it made him smile.
“I’m not eating that crap!” Sakazuki growled and Kuzan groaned. Well, Akainu would always be Akainu.
They shared out the food and Japanese food was so tasty that Kuzan could weep. Borsalino san had been right about the pizza too. Italians just made it better or seemed, and he’d brought two boxes of it too. There was no way they’d finish it all. Fortunately, Sakazuki san had come with little plates that they could use to carry any leftovers home. As expected of Sakazuki san, always prepared.
Despite his complaints, the bucket of chicken was absolutely demolished and Sakazuki had ended up eating way more watermelon than anyone else. It made Kuzan laugh but he knew better than to point it out.
“It’s nice, I’m glad that we could do this,” Kuzan admitted with a small smile. Cultural day was fun after all.
“Yeah. Let’s go all out next year as weeell,” Borsalino grinned as he packaged the left over spaghetti.
“How about the two of you actually try next year!” Sakazuki growled with a fiery glare in their direction and they both saluted the commander.
“Yes sir!” Kuzan and Borsalino said, before all three of them burst out laughing. Sakazuki rolled his eyes but he smiled as he nibbled on his left over pizza and the rest of them cleaned up their plate.
For sure, Kuzan smiled. For sure they’d try a little harder. Seeing how seriously Akainu took it, it made Borsalino want to try a little harder too. Perhaps he’d bring something they’d never tasted before.
As for Sakazuki, he smiled to himself at his rich collection of food he’d take home to share with the family. It hadn’t exactly been what he’d expected, but, it had been a fun cultural day.