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The heat.
It was the first thing he remembered, and the only thing he could never manage to forget. A heat so intense, so absolute, that it seemed to consume the air itself even before touching the skin. It evaporated sweat, dried the tears in the corners of his wide eyes, and burned the inside of his lungs with every gasping breath.
And then, there had been the sound. A soft, sickening sound. The sound of molten matter tearing through human flesh as if it were nothing but butter left in the sun. The high-pitched hiss of blood evaporating instantly upon contact with magma.
Luffy closed his eyes, his fists clenching so hard that his nails dug into his palms until scarlet droplets welled up. But closing his eyes was useless. His closed eyelids only served as a projection screen for his waking nightmare.
He saw the incandescent fist of Admiral Akainu again. Then, the gaping, blackened, smoking hole in the middle of his big brother's chest.
But above all, worse than the heat, worse than the sound, worse than the sticky blood on his own hands, there was that smell.
An acrid, heavy, suffocating smell. That of sulfur, hot ash, and scorched fat. The metallic smell of boiling hemoglobin mixed with that of charred human flesh. The smell of his brother burning from the inside.
Luffy gasped, violently snapping his eyes open. He was sitting on the lawn of the Thousand Sunny. The grass was soft, the sea breeze was cool and carried the salty spray of the New World. The sun was shining peacefully. Marineford was far away. It was two years ago. Ace had died two years ago.
Yet, nausea twisted his stomach with unheard-of violence. He leaned forward, a hand pressed against his mouth, his breathing ragged. He swallowed painfully, trying to chase away the taste of phantom ash that coated his palate.
"Luffy? You okay, pal?"
Usopp's voice made him jump. The sniper was looking at him from the railing, a brush in his hand, his forehead creased with worry. Luffy forced a smile. One of those immense, elastic smiles that stretched from ear to ear but no longer quite reached his eyes.
"Shishishi! I'm great, Usopp! I was just thinking about one of Brook's jokes!"
Usopp blinked, not entirely convinced, but shrugged.
"Alright... Well, get ready. Sanji said the meal will be ready in ten minutes. He went all out today. He caught a gigantic Sea King this morning. He said he was going to roast it whole on the spit to celebrate our arrival in this new zone."
Luffy's smile froze. He felt his blood turn to ice in his veins, while a cold sweat slid down his spine.
Roast. On the spit.
"Ah... yeah? Great," he whispered, his voice strangely weak.
Usopp went back to his business, leaving the captain alone with the monster waking up in his chest. The monster of memory.
Luffy curled up slightly, pulling his knees against his chest. He plunged his face into the shadow of his straw hat. He knew what was going to happen. He knew it because it had been the same way for two years. Ever since that cursed day on Amazon Lily.
Two years earlier.
He had just woken up from his coma. He had just destroyed half the forest on the Island of Women in a fit of blind rage, of absolute grief. He had torn at his skin, bitten his lips until they bled, screamed until his vocal cords tore. Jinbe had stopped him. Jinbe had reminded him of what he had left. His nakamas.
Luffy had calmed down, exhausted, broken, emptied of all substance. His stomach, ignoring his mourning, had begun to growl with animal violence. He hadn't eaten anything since Impel Down. His body, pushed far beyond its limits by Ivankov's hormones, was demanding its due or else it would flicker out for good.
Marguerite, her face filled with soft pity, had approached with the other Kuja warriors. They were carrying an immense wooden tray. On it sat a giant forest boar, freshly hunted and roasted to perfection. The skin was golden, crispy, glistening with melted fat. Steam escaped from the hot meat, carrying with it the aromas of wild herbs and grilled flesh.
"Eat, Luffy," Jinbe had said softly, sitting heavily beside him. "You must regain your strength. For your crew."
Luffy had nodded, his eyes empty, his gaze lost in the distance. Out of habit, out of pure survival reflex, he had reached out toward the meat. He was the boy who could swallow a whole crocodile. He was the one for whom meat was the answer to all ills.
His fingers touched the warm flesh.
And then, the smell hit him.
The smell of roasted meat. The smell of fat sizzling in contact with fire. The smell of flesh exposed to extreme heat.
In a fraction of a second, the giant boar disappeared from his vision. Instead, the jungle of Amazon Lily faded into a whirlwind of ash and black smoke. The blue sky gave way to a ceiling of grayish clouds streaked with red lightning. The ground beneath his feet became cracked basalt.
It was no longer boar meat under his fingers. It was Ace's back. It was his brother's skin, blistered, blackened, consuming itself under Akainu's lava.
The smell of Marguerite's aromatic herbs was obliterated by the unbearable smell of death, sulfur, and boiling blood.
Luffy let out a cry that was nothing human. A howl of a trapped animal, a cry of pure terror and visceral pain. He violently pushed the tray away, sending it flying several meters. The roasted boar crashed into the dust.
"Luffy?!" Jinbe had exclaimed, leaping up, ready to fend off another fit of rage.
But it wasn't rage. It was terror.
Luffy had thrown himself backward, crawling on the ground, moving away from the meat as if it were radioactive. His bulging eyes stared at the carcass with indescribable horror. He breathed in gasps, choking on his own breath.
Then, his stomach violently contracted. He leaned to the side and vomited. There was nothing in his stomach but stomach acid and bile, but he vomited until his throat bled, shaken by uncontrollable spasms, crying hot tears, whispering his brother's name between dry heaves.
Jinbe, the Kuja warriors, and even Rayleigh, who had just arrived, stood frozen, shocked by the violence of the scene.
Since that day, Luffy had never touched a piece of cooked meat again.
On Rusukaina, during his two years of training, Rayleigh had quickly understood. At first, the old Dark King thought it was a passing whim related to the shock. But after seeing Luffy prefer to faint from hunger rather than bite into a dinosaur leg cooked over a wood fire, he had to face the facts.
The trauma was anchored, branded into the boy's brain.
Rayleigh had to adapt. To endure Haki training and maintain Gear Second and Third, Luffy needed massive amounts of protein. Rayleigh had therefore forced him to get used to something else. Raw fish. Seafood. Giant seaweed. Sun-drenched fruits. Luffy ate astronomical quantities of sashimi, swallowing fish as big as houses, but raw. Always raw. Or else boiled in water, without any spices, without any coloring that could recall the burn of fire.
And Luffy had said nothing. He had suffered in silence, reshaping his tastes, swallowing his nausea every time a campfire crackled a little too close.
Today, on the Thousand Sunny.
"DINNER'S REAAAAAADY! You bunch of gluttons!"
Sanji's voice echoed across the deck, accompanied by the metallic clink of a ladle hitting the edge of a pot. Cries of joy rose immediately. Chopper, Usopp, and Brook rushed toward the kitchen, soon followed by Franky and Zoro. Nami and Robin closed their books with small, delighted smiles.
Luffy remained nailed to the spot. His legs seemed to weigh a ton of Sea Prism Stone.
He had to go. If he didn't go, they would ask questions. If he didn't go first screaming "MEEEAT!", they would know something was wrong. He didn't want to worry them. He didn't want to tarnish the joy of their reunion with his sticky trauma. He was the Captain. The future King of the Pirates. He had to be strong.
Taking a deep breath, holding it as much as possible, he forced his legs to move.
"SANJIIII! I'M HUNGRYYYY!" he yelled with the energy of despair, propelling himself toward the kitchen door.
He threw the door open.
The warm, saturated air of the room hit him full force like a brick wall.
In the center of the long kitchen table sat Sanji's masterpiece. The heart of the Sea King, a colossal mass of flesh, perfectly roasted, oozing with caramelized cooking juices. The heat of the meat rose in swirls of thick steam. The smell filled the entire confined space. A rich, heavy, fatty smell. A smell of flesh passed through fire.
Luffy stopped dead in the doorway.
The hubbub of his friends around him seemed to fade, as if muffled under meters of water. The warm light of the kitchen took on a sickly scarlet hue.
Sizzle. Sizzle.
The sound of meat juice crackling on the hot dish hit his eardrums. But in his head, it wasn't cooking juice. It was Ace's blood, evaporated by Akainu's flames.
"You are weak."
The Admiral's voice echoed in his skull, making his bones tremble.
The smell. The smell was everywhere. It entered through his nostrils, insinuated itself into his throat, stuck to his lungs. A smell of burning. Of consumed flesh. Of suffocating death.
He gasped. He needed air. There was no more air here, only black smoke, ashes that choked him, blood that stuck to his fingers. He looked at his hands. He expected to see them red, sticky, stained with his brother's life escaping.
"Oh, Luffy! You're finally here!" Sanji exclaimed, stepping out of the kitchen with a large, satisfied smile, wiping his hands on his apron. "Look at this, a beauty, huh? Cooked over a wood fire with a blend of Alabasta spices. Go ahead, dive in first, Captain!"
Sanji expected Luffy to stretch his arms, grab the gigantic mass of meat, and engulf it in three grotesque bites, like in the old days. He expected the laughter, Usopp's protests fearing there would be nothing left for him, Nami's shouts at the lack of table manners.
But Luffy didn't move.
His eyes were dilated, fixed on the dish with an expression Sanji had never seen on his face. It was a face devoid of all light. A ghost's face. Luffy's breathing was short, ragged, almost wheezing. His fists were clenched at his sides, his knuckles whitening under the pressure.
Silence fell abruptly over the kitchen. Zoro stopped dead, his beer mug halfway to his lips, his single eye narrowing, instantly analyzing the tension. Chopper dropped his fork, his reindeer ears perking up.
"Luffy?" Nami asked, her voice hesitant, troubled by her captain's lack of reaction.
Luffy tried to speak. He tried to say "Great, Sanji," to take a step forward, to pretend. But his body refused to obey him.
The smoke from the meat wafted toward him.
"Thank you... for loving me..."
Ace's face, covered in blood, collapsing while smiling in his arms.
Luffy took a stumbling step back. Then another. He hit the door frame.
"I... I..." he stammered, his voice broken, distant, strangled by panic.
A cold sweat streamed down his forehead. His face had emptied of all its blood, leaving him pale as wax. The smell was becoming sickening. His bile rose dangerously along his esophagus.
He couldn't stay there. He was going to die. If he breathed this smell for one more second, he was going to go back to that execution square, he was going to see the fist go through the chest again, he was going to collapse.
"Luffy, what is it? Are you sick?" Chopper panicked, jumping from his chair, his small doctor's backpack magically appearing in his hooves.
But Luffy no longer heard. The flight instinct took over.
He turned abruptly, violently bumping into Franky who was entering, and ran away. He crossed the Sunny's deck at breakneck speed, fleeing the kitchen, fleeing his friends, fleeing the smell.
"Oi! Luffy!" Sanji shouted, confused and slightly offended, his cigarette at the corner of his lips. "What's gotten into you, you idiot?!"
No one answered. The silence in the kitchen was heavy, weighed down by the spicy smell of the roast which suddenly no longer seemed so appetizing.
Zoro set his mug down with a dull thud. His gaze met Sanji's.
"Go see him, cook," Zoro said in a deep, low voice.
Sanji frowned. He looked at his masterpiece on the table, then at the door left wide open by his captain. A cold, unpleasant foreboding settled in his gut. He took off his apron, threw it on a chair, and stepped out into the cool night.
He searched for Luffy everywhere. In the crow's nest, in the aquarium, on the lawn. He finally found him at the most remote part of the ship, at the very front, clinging to the neck of the lion-shaped figurehead.
It was dark, but by the light of the stars, Sanji could see Luffy's shoulders shaking convulsively. He heard his erratic breathing, broken by small muffled noises. Dry heaves. Luffy was leaning over the bulwark, vomiting violently into the black waves of the ocean.
Sanji stopped, petrified. His heart skipped a beat. His captain, the man with the strongest stomach in Grand Line, the man who could eat poisoned meat and survive with a smile, was vomiting his guts out after seeing a meal.
The cook approached slowly, his shoes clicking softly on the wooden deck. He stopped a few meters away, not daring to touch him. He took out his lighter, flicked the wheel with a sharp "click," and lit a new cigarette. The acrid smell of blond tobacco rose in the air, masking the salty smell of the sea.
Luffy jumped at the sound of the lighter. He tensed, brutally wiping his mouth with the back of his sleeve, and half-turned. Sanji saw his eyes.
They were the eyes of a broken, terrified kid, haunted by ghosts that were all too real. Tears traced clear tracks on his dusty cheeks, his pupils were tiny, trembling with panic.
"Luffy..." Sanji began, his voice softened, almost maternal, a rare thing for him. "What happened? Did I mess up the cooking? Was the meat bad?"
He was trying to play it down, to bring the situation back to something rational that he could control as a chef.
Luffy shook his head frantically, his fingers gripping the wood of the railing so hard that the wood began to crack under his monstrous strength.
"No... No, Sanji... Your meat... Your meat is surely perfect..." he panted, his voice hoarse from gastric juices and swallowed sobs.
"Then what? Why did you leave like that? Chopper is worried to death inside. Everyone is."
Luffy closed his eyes. A new wave of shivers ran through him. He slid down the railing to sit heavily on the deck, pulling his knees against him, making himself as small as possible.
Sanji sighed, took a long drag of his cigarette, and came to sit beside him, his back against the railing, keeping a respectful distance.
"Talk to me, Captain," the blond whispered in a cloud of gray smoke. "What did I do wrong?"
"Nothing," Luffy whispered, his voice so weak the wind almost carried it away. "You did nothing. It's me. I'm broken, Sanji."
The word hit the cook like a punch. Broken. Luffy never defined himself that way. He was made of rubber, he bounced back, he healed, he always moved forward. Hearing that word come out of his mouth was the scariest thing Sanji had ever heard.
"Broken how?"
Luffy remained silent for long minutes. Only the sound of waves hitting the Sunny's hull disturbed the quiet of the night. Sanji didn't press him. He smoked in silence, keeping watch.
"Since... since what happened with Ace," Luffy finally began, each word seeming to cost him an insane amount of energy. "I... I can't anymore."
"You can't anymore what?"
Luffy raised his head, looking at the full moon reflected on the waves.
"I can't stand cooked meat anymore."
Sanji frowned, turning his head toward his captain in incomprehension.
"Are you kidding me? You're Luffy. You're made of meat. You've made cooks from every island cry because they couldn't keep up with your pace."
"I know," Luffy whispered with a bitter laugh that sounded like a sob. "I know. I love meat. But... but when I smell the scent..."
He stopped, swallowing hard. His hands began to shake violently. He hid them under his armpits so Sanji wouldn't see them.
"When I smell the scent of grilling flesh, of melted fat, of heat... I'm not on the boat anymore. I'm not with you guys anymore. I'm back there. At Marineford."
Sanji stopped breathing. His cigarette burned slowly between his frozen fingers.
"The smell, Sanji," Luffy continued, tears flowing freely and silently down his face. "The smell of Ace when Akainu... When the magma went through his chest... The flesh, the lungs, the blood... It burned all at once. It was a sickening smell. And it smelled... it smelled exactly like roasted meat when we have a big campfire. It smelled like sulfur and grilled pig."
Sanji felt his own stomach churn. The mental image, brutal and horrific, forced itself upon him. He thought of the magnificent piece of roasted meat sitting on his table, which he had been so proud of minutes earlier. He thought of the tempting smell he had carefully cultivated with spices and slow cooking. He had, without knowing it, recreated the sensory environment of the death of his captain's brother. He had just plunged Luffy into his worst nightmare, forcing him to breathe it in full lungs.
A violent wave of guilt washed over him, so strong it made him dizzy.
"And it stayed," Luffy whispered in a lost, childlike voice. "On Amazon Lily, when they brought me food... The smell came and I thought I was touching Ace's body. I thought I was going to die of grief a second time. So, for two years, with Rayleigh... I only eat raw fish. Fruit. Cold things. Without the smell of smoke. Without the smell of death."
Luffy turned toward Sanji, his black eyes pleading, bathed in tears, seeking a forgiveness he didn't have to ask for.
"I'm sorry, Sanji. Your meat must have been delicious. It's me who's a coward. I can't get over it. I'm sorry for ruining the reunion meal."
Sanji remained petrified for a second. Then, he violently crushed his cigarette on the deck, not caring about burning Franky's wood. He turned toward Luffy, his face set and grave, his blue eyes—usually cynical or perverted—shining with a heart-wrenching intensity.
"Shut up," Sanji said in a sharp voice. "Don't you ever apologize for that again, do you hear me? Never."
Luffy blinked, surprised by his cook's vehemence.
Sanji knelt before his captain. He didn't take him in his arms—it wasn't their style—but he placed a firm, warm hand, devoid of any burning threat, on the rubber boy's thin and trembling shoulder.
"I am the cook of this ship, Luffy," Sanji declared, articulating each word like a sacred oath. "My role, the reason for my existence on this ocean, is to feed this crew. To give you the strength to fight, to laugh, to live. And feeding someone isn't just filling their stomach. It's bringing them joy, comfort. It's respecting their body and their soul."
Sanji squeezed Luffy's shoulder.
"It's my fault. I should have seen it. I should have guessed there was a price to pay after what you went through. I'm a total idiot. I served you the worst of tortures on a silver platter. It's up to me to ask for your forgiveness, Captain."
"Sanji, no, it's not your fault, I didn't tell you..."
"Yes, it is my fault," Sanji cut him off in a tone that admitted no reply. "A good cook knows the likes and dislikes of his clients. Starting tonight, the rules change in my kitchen."
Luffy raised his head, sniffing, his eyes wide in the darkness.
"You need protein to fight, for your Gear Second," Sanji continued, his mind already boiling with recipes and action plans. "Raw fish is good, but we're going to go much further. You're going to discover things that old Rayleigh couldn't even imagine. Beef tartares seasoned with lime and sesame oil, no cooking at all, melting like butter. Marbled Sea King ceviches. Tofu so rich it tastes like Elbaf cheese. Carpaccios sliced so thin they'll melt on your tongue, marinated in the cold, never touched by flames. Clear broths with seaweed and giant mushrooms, boiled so long they'll have the flavor of the richest meat, but with the soothing scent of the tropical forest."
Sanji spoke fast, with passion, his hands drawing imaginary dishes in the air. He was using his love of cooking to heal the gaping wounds of his captain.
"You will never lack for anything, Luffy. You will have all the energy necessary to kick the asses of Emperors, Admirals, and everyone who stands in your way. You will be the King of the Pirates. And you will get there. This is my promise as the chef of the Thousand Sunny. No more grilled meat. It's over."
Luffy looked at Sanji. For the first time that evening, the deadly tension tightening his lungs loosened. The nausea receded, replaced by a different kind of heat—soft, comforting, radiating from his tired heart.
He let out a loud sob, swallowing his snot in an unappealing way, and threw himself forward, wrapping Sanji's waist with his long elastic arms. Sanji let him, with a grunt, awkwardly patting the captain's back.
"Thank you, Sanji," Luffy cried, his voice muffled against the cook's shirt. "Thank you..."
"Stop blubbering, idiot," Sanji grumbled, his throat tight, sniffing discreetly. "You're going to get my suit dirty."
They stayed there for a few moments, at the prow of the ship sailing through the black night, guided by the stars and protected by its occupants.
"What do we do with... the roast?" Luffy finally asked, guilt poking its nose out again. "Zoro, Franky, Usopp... They're going to be disappointed."
Sanji had a smirk, Machiavellian.
"Don't worry about those gluttons. I'm going back in there, say I messed up the cooking, toss the roast overboard while screaming bloody murder, and prepare an immense banquet of cold sushi in record time. Half of them won't even see the difference, and the Mosshead will be too busy drinking to complain about the food."
Luffy let out a small, muffled laugh—weak, but real. The first sincere laugh in hours.
"It's a shame to throw away food," Luffy pointed out, instinct taking over despite everything.
"Not when it's poisoning my captain," Sanji replied firmly. "Come on. Help me throw that horror into the sea. And then, you're going to help me slice the giant yellowfin tuna I kept in the fridge. We're going to make sashimi the size of your hat."
Luffy nodded, wiped his eyes vigorously to clear the traces of tears, and stood up. His legs still trembled a bit, but they supported him.
When they returned to the corridor leading to the kitchen, Sanji stopped, stood before the door, and took a deep breath. He threw the door open. Luffy stayed back, taking advantage of the sea breeze to avoid breathing the room's air.
"YOU BUNCH OF IDIOTS!" Sanji yelled as he entered the kitchen, making everyone jump. "Don't touch it! This meat is ruined! I messed up the seasoning with Grand Line salt, it'll destroy your kidneys!"
Zoro crossed his arms, a half-satisfied smile stretching his lips, before plunging his nose back into his mug.
Under Usopp's scandalized cries and Chopper's weeping as he was already drooling, Sanji grabbed the huge spit with his bare hands, ignoring the heat of the dish, and rushed out onto the deck. With a powerful, sharp movement, he sent the roasted masterpiece flying over the railing, into the unfathomable depths of the sea.
The dish splashed into the black water, carrying with it the sticky smell, the fat, the smoke.
Luffy watched the waves close over the meat, feeling the sea air purify his lungs.
Sanji returned to the kitchen, clapped his hands, and the air began to smell of sweet rice vinegar, spicy wasabi, and fresh fish caught from the icy depths. The smell of the sea. The smell of freedom.
Luffy took a deep breath. It was good. It smelled good in here.
He adjusted his straw hat on his head, stretched his face to find the widest smile possible, and stepped through the doorway.
He was still wounded. The scar on his chest would always burn in the cold, and he could never again approach a campfire, listening to meat crackle, without wanting to scream. A part of him had died at Marineford, burned at the same time as Ace.
But he wasn't alone. He was surrounded by people ready to throw a treasure into the sea to save his soul.
"SANJIIII!" Luffy yelled, jumping onto the table, his eyes widening with hunger at the enormous pieces of raw fish coming out of the fridge. "SASHIMIIIII! GIVE ME EVERYTHING!"
Sanji smiled, a real smile, the kind that crinkles the corner of the eyes, and began to slice the cold flesh of the fish with surgical precision, a silent love.
"YES, YES, I'M COMING, IDIOT! DON'T TOUCH ANYTHING UNTIL I'M FINISHED!"
Luffy sat back in his chair, crossing his legs tailor-style. Usopp complained about the lack of meat, Franky laughed loudly, Nami sighed at the captain's childish behavior, Robin smiled mysteriously.
The smell of smoke had completely disappeared.
Luffy closed his eyes, felt the vibrant presence of his crew, and waited for his plate, ready to eat.