**Marine Branch 153, Goa Kingdom – East Blue**
The mess hall kitchen at 03:45 in the morning smelled like iron, old grease, and the faint ghost of yesterday's fish stew.
Most people would call that hour cursed.
Sanji called it sacred.
He moved through the dim space like he'd been born in it—white uniform jacket sleeves rolled to the elbows, cigarette already glowing between his lips, blond hair falling in that perfect, infuriating curl over one eye. The only light came from the single overhead bulb above the prep station and the soft blue glow of the pilot lights on the stoves.
He didn't need more.
He was kneading dough for the breakfast rolls. Slow, deliberate presses of his palms. Each fold was a small ritual. Flour dusted his forearms like faint snowfall.
The door creaked open behind him.
Sanji didn't turn. He just spoke around the cigarette.
"You're early, moss-head."
Zoro stepped inside, rubbing sleep from his eyes, three swords already belted on even though he was technically off-duty.
"Couldn't sleep. Figured I'd steal coffee before the rush."
Sanji snorted.
"Figures. Only thing you wake up for is blades and caffeine."
Zoro didn't argue. He moved to the side counter where the big percolator lived, poured himself a mug that could double as a soup bowl, and leaned against the wall to watch.
They didn't talk for a while.
Just the soft thump of dough against wood, the hiss of the percolator, the distant lap of waves against the pier outside.
Then the door opened again.
This time Sanji did glance over.
Luffy stood in the doorway wearing nothing but PT shorts and his straw hat, rubbing his stomach with both hands.
"I smelled bread," he announced solemnly.
Sanji's eye twitched.
"It's not done yet."
"But it smells like it's done."
"It's not."
Luffy padded in barefoot, completely unbothered by the fact that he was technically breaking curfew, uniform code, and probably three separate health regulations.
He stopped next to the prep table, leaned forward, and inhaled deeply.
Sanji exhaled smoke in a long stream.
"If you touch that dough with your grubby hands, I will personally filet you."
Luffy grinned.
"You're gonna cook for me?"
"I cook for everyone."
"But especially for me?"
Sanji finally turned to face him fully.
The cigarette dangled from his lips.
"You're the reason we had to do an emergency requisition for beef last week, you rubber menace."
Luffy laughed, loud and bright in the quiet kitchen.
"That was awesome though! Everyone was happy!"
Zoro sipped his coffee.
"He's not wrong."
Sanji shot him a glare.
"You shut up. You ate half the damn thing."
Zoro shrugged.
"Was good."
Luffy hopped up to sit on the edge of the prep table—right next to the dough, but not touching it (yet).
Sanji watched him for a long moment.
Then, quietly:
"Why are you really here at this hour?"
Luffy tilted his head.
"I was hungry."
"Bullshit."
Luffy's grin softened.
"I heard you talking to the supply officer yesterday. About how the budget for fresh ingredients got cut again."
Sanji's hand paused mid-fold.
"Didn't think anyone was listening."
"I always listen when it's about food."
Sanji snorted again, but there was no real heat in it.
"The brass thinks morale is maintained with hardtack and protein paste. They forget that people fight better when they're fed properly."
Zoro set his mug down.
"You sound like you've got a personal grudge."
Sanji's expression darkened, just for a second.
"I've seen what happens when people aren't fed right. Hunger makes monsters out of good men. And I refuse to let that happen under my watch."
Luffy nodded slowly.
"That's why you're here. To feed everyone."
Sanji looked at him then—really looked.
"You're not as dumb as you act, are you?"
Luffy scratched under his hat.
"I just like eating. And I like when people aren't hungry. Same thing."
Sanji stared at him for several heartbeats.
Then he reached under the counter, pulled out a small cast-iron skillet he kept for personal use, and set it on the nearest burner.
"Sit down and shut up for once."
Luffy beamed.
Zoro raised an eyebrow.
"You're actually feeding him?"
"Shut up or you're next."
Zoro smirked and stayed quiet.
Sanji cracked two eggs into the skillet with one hand, sprinkled salt with the other, added a knob of butter that hissed immediately on contact.
He moved like he was dancing with the flame.
No wasted motion.
No hesitation.
Luffy watched with wide eyes, like he was seeing magic.
When the eggs were perfect—edges crisp, yolks still runny—Sanji slid them onto a plate, tore a piece of fresh bread from the cooling rack (still warm), and set it beside them.
He pushed the plate toward Luffy.
"Eat."
Luffy didn't need to be told twice.
He devoured it in four bites, moaning happily around each mouthful.
Sanji watched him with something that might have been fondness if you squinted.
When the plate was clean, Luffy looked up.
"That was the best thing I've ever eaten."
"You say that about everything."
"But this time I mean it."
Sanji rolled his eyes, but the corner of his mouth lifted.
Then Luffy leaned forward, elbows on the table.
"Why do you care so much?"
Sanji paused, cigarette halfway to his lips.
"About food?"
"About making sure everyone gets good food. Even when the budget sucks. Even when nobody asks."
Sanji took a long drag.
Let the smoke curl toward the ceiling.
Then he spoke, quieter than usual.
"My old man… Zeff. He's the one who taught me. Old pirate turned cook. Lost his leg saving me when I was a kid. Starving on a rock in the middle of nowhere."
Zoro's eyes sharpened.
Sanji continued.
"He could've eaten me. Would've been easy. Instead he gave me the last of the food. Told me to live. Told me food wasn't just fuel—it was a promise. A way to say 'you're worth keeping alive'."
He tapped ash into a small tin.
"That's why I cook. Because somewhere out there, someone might be starving. And if I can keep that from happening to even one person… then maybe what happened to us won't happen to someone else."
Luffy stared at him.
Then he reached across the table and put a hand on Sanji's forearm.
Not stretching. Just… there.
Sanji looked down at the hand, then up at Luffy's face.
Luffy's eyes were serious.
"You're gonna cook for my crew someday."
Sanji blinked.
"Your… what?"
"When we get a ship. When we're out there. You're gonna be the one making sure nobody's hungry. And it's gonna be the best food in the whole damn sea."
Sanji stared.
Then he laughed—a short, surprised sound.
"You're recruiting me in the middle of the night over eggs?"
"Yup."
Zoro, who had been silent the whole time, finally spoke.
"He does that."
Sanji looked between them.
Then back at Luffy.
"You're serious."
"Dead serious."
Sanji exhaled smoke slowly.
Then he crushed the cigarette out.
"Fine. But only if the food is always this good. And I get to kick anyone who complains."
Luffy's face split into the biggest grin yet.
"Deal!"
Zoro stood up, mug empty.
"I'm going back to bed before this turns into a wedding proposal."
Sanji flipped him off without looking.
Zoro left, smirking.
Luffy stayed.
He watched as Sanji started cleaning up—methodical, precise.
After a while, Sanji spoke without turning.
"You really think you can do it? Change things?"
Luffy leaned back on his hands.
"I don't know about the whole Navy. But I know I can make sure the people around me are happy. And fed. And strong."
Sanji paused, sponge in hand.
"That's a start."
"Yeah."
They were quiet again.
Just the soft clink of dishes, the distant creak of the building settling.
Then Sanji asked, almost too quiet to hear:
"You ever think about what happens when someone you care about goes hungry because of orders?"
Luffy didn't answer right away.
When he did, his voice was steady.
"That's why I'm gonna be the strongest. So I can say 'no' when it matters. And make sure nobody has to choose between following orders and feeding their friends."
Sanji turned around slowly.
Looked at the boy sitting on his prep table like he owned the place.
And for the first time since he'd enlisted, Sanji felt something loosen in his chest.
Something that had been tight for years.
He reached into the bread rack again.
Pulled out another warm roll.
Tossed it to Luffy.
"Get out of my kitchen before I kick you out."
Luffy caught it, bit into it immediately.
"Thanks, Sanji!"
"Don't call me that yet. I haven't said yes."
Luffy just grinned around the bread.
"You will."
He hopped down.
Walked to the door.
Paused.
Turned back.
"Hey."
Sanji looked up.
"When we get out there… you're gonna make something with meat. Lots of meat."
Sanji rolled his eyes.
"Get lost, rubber idiot."
Luffy laughed all the way down the hall.
Sanji stood alone in the kitchen again.
He looked at the empty plate.
The flour on the table.
The single cigarette butt in the tin.
Then he smiled—just a small, private thing.
And went back to kneading the next batch of dough.
Outside, the sky was beginning to lighten.
Dawn coming slow over the East Blue.
Carrying salt, promise, and the faint smell of fresh bread.
And somewhere in the quiet hours before the base woke up, another piece clicked into place.
Not loudly.
Not with fanfare.
Just a cook who believed food could save people…
and a boy who believed the same thing about dreams.
Both of them stubborn enough to make it real.