Chapter Text
Life on the Baratie is unlike anything Sanji’d known during his first nine years on earth. It’s a drastic step up from the treatment he’d regularly received in Germa, as Zeff on his worst days was nothing in comparison to Judge on even his best. For all that the old chef likes to pretend he’d gleefully throw Sanji overboard if the mood struck him, Sanji’s never felt anything but safe in his care.
Still, that doesn’t mean it isn’t at times a little lonely. He’s the youngest member of the Baratie ’s crew by decades, and it’s not like he can hang out with the kids who come to the restaurant with their families either. They’re here as patrons, while Sanji’s a member of the staff.
Even on the rare occasions where he gets to see land by tagging along on supply runs, it’s not like he has time to get to know anybody. Plus, on top of that, it’s also not like he has any real experience when it comes to making friends. Outside of his mother - and now Zeff, he supposes - his circumstances have always forced him to be a loner.
He thinks Zeff is more aware of this than he lets on. The old man always complains about Sanji supposedly being underfoot, but he never once makes a move to actually do anything about it. Instead, he simply works around him, letting him remain in the thick of things at the center of the bustling kitchen.
Sanji appreciates this, he does - even if he’s got no idea how to express such a sentiment - but it isn’t always enough to stall the creeping feelings of loneliness when they come on. On the other hand, the last thing he wants to do is make Zeff feel guilty about the situation, so he keeps his mouth shut. After all, the old man’s already done more for him than he could possibly deserve.
Maybe one day he’ll get lucky and another kid his own age, one who likes him on top of everything else, will land on the Baratie with an intent to stay. Until and unless that happens, though, he’s just going to have to make the best of his situation.
*****
Sanji jerks awake in the middle of the night, for some reason positive that he’s back in his cell in Germa. He paws futilely at his face, choking down a sob when he encounters skin and hair rather than a cold iron mark, and buries his face in his pillow to muffle any sounds that might come out.
It’s not the first time this has happened to him. In fact, it’s far from it. Especially in the early days of his living in the East Blue, he’d routinely have nightmares where he was back under Judge’s thumb, with no possibility of escape.
Initially, he hadn’t known how to control himself, and he’d often dragged Zeff up out of slumber thanks to his cries rousing the man in the next room over. The chef had always been kind enough in his blustery way, but Sanji had wound up feeling both weak and guilty each time it happened.
The nightmares have greatly reduced in frequency by this point, but even better, he’s much more able to settle himself without disturbing anybody else. Zeff’s made it clear that he doesn’t have to do so, all while looking concerned that he’d even had to say as much, but Sanji’s determined to keep going the way he has been.
He’s going to prove to everyone that he’s not weak, and he won’t be a burden on anyone ever again.
Back in the here and now, Sanji repeats this mantra to himself over and over again until he finally manages to get his breathing under control. Then, once that’s done, he cautiously sits up in bed, his ears straining for any sounds of movement next door.
There are none, and Sanji lets out a ragged noise of relief, pleased that he’s been successful in managing not to bother Zeff yet again.
He stays like that for a while, weighing the pros and cons of trying to get back to sleep. If he’s being honest, he doubts that he’ll be able to manage this, and if he does , there’s a solid chance that he’ll wind up right back in the same situation as earlier.
Shuddering at the notion of experiencing another nightmare tonight, Sanji gives an internal shrug, and rolls out of bed. His bare feet hit the floor with a soft thump, and he reaches behind him to carefully tug the blankets on his bed into something resembling order.
A quick glance out his window tells him that it’s definitely the middle of the night, and also that he really should be trying to get a bit more sleep before he has to be up with the rest of the crew. He knows that’s not going to happen, however, so he pads over to the door as quietly as possible.
He eases said door open with nary a squeak, pleased that he’s able to slip outside and close it behind him without any noise at all. Then, keeping a wary eye on Zeff’s door the entire time, he slinks along the edge of the deck until he finds the stairs and can clamber down them.
He’s really not sure what he’s thinking, wandering around at this hour of the night, but there’s now some kind of strange, restless energy coursing through him that he can’t quite put a name to. Figuring that a snack might help, he decides to head for the kitchen as a distraction.
Sanji’s been on the Baratie long enough to be able to find the kitchen in his sleep, but he knows the rest of her nooks and crannies just as well. He knows how the ship looks, feels, and sounds, and is therefore equally capable of noticing when something is out of place.
It’s for this reason that not even the cover of darkness prevents him from missing the fact that one of the storage locker doors is open as he approaches. Likewise, he doesn’t recognize the strange rustling sound that’s emanating from within it, meaning he’s positive it’s something that’s not supposed to be there.
For the briefest of moments he considers raising the alarm, but then imagines the crew's reaction if it turns out to be nothing. Patty and Carne would no doubt tease him mercilessly for days, and the thought of Zeff’s exasperated - or worse, disappointed - expression is enough to make his stomach curdle. Deciding that he’s fully capable of sussing things out on his own, he steps forward to do exactly that.
The only light in the locker is whatever moonlight has managed to stream in through the open door. Peering carefully around the corner, Sanji’s just barely able to make out the sight of a large shape rooting around in one of the crates at the far end of the room.
He stares at it for a while, trying to figure out what it is that he’s seeing. The darkness is making it impossible for him to get a proper look, but whatever it is, he’s pretty sure it’s on four legs, not two, yet its shape keeps shifting, sometimes looking like it has as many as six limbs.
It’s not human, he finally concludes. Along with its shape, the noises he’s hearing aren’t coming from a person’s mouth, and there’s an added slithering sound, one that he can’t place from anywhere else. Wondering if maybe they haven’t been invaded by some kind of hungry sea beast, he wracks his brain for an idea of what to do.
There’s a light switch on the inside of the storage locker, he knows, one not far from the doorway. If he can flick it on he’ll be able to give himself a better idea of what he’s dealing with, and maybe scare whatever it is off.
His mind made up, he sidles softly across the space, not wanting to alert the creature to his presence until he has the upper hand. Luckily, the amount of noise it’s making as it digs around in the crate easily covers up anything coming from Sanji.
After what feels like a small eternity, Sanji finds the far wall and slides his fingers along it until they brush over the anticipated switch. Then, taking a deep breath, he flicks it upwards, flooding the locker with light and illuminating their midnight visitor.
Not fully believing what he’s seeing, Sanji lets out a startled cry of shock that’s echoed by the animal that’s now half in and half out of a crate of produce. Letting out a dismayed noise, it flails in surprise, ultimately falling to the floor with a harsh thump, landing on its back with its four limbs sprawled everywhere, its wings askew, and its tail drooping forward over its eyes.
“ What the fuck ?” Sanji shrieks, forgetting all of Zeff’s many and varied lectures on his misuses of profanity thanks to the fact that he’s just found an honest to god dragon in their home. He gapes at the supposedly mythical creature, positive he must be hallucinating as it stares back at him.
Neither of them moves for a moment, but eventually the dragon must get tired of being upside down on the floor. Maintaining as much dignity as it can under the circumstances, it slowly rights itself and gives Sanji an affronted look, as if it’s annoyed at him for startling it.
“Don’t look at me like that,” Sanji snaps without conscious thought. “You’re the one who broke into my home, not the other way around.”
Miraculously, the dragon seems to understand him. Somehow managing to look sheepish, it shuffles awkwardly in place, accidentally kicking a few foodstuffs that had fallen to the ground with it.
Sanji watches a lone apple roll across the floor until it ultimately comes to a stop not far from his own foot. “Oh,” he says, realization dawning. “Are you hungry? Is that the problem?”
Wondering if that’s the issue, he leans forward, all while being mindful not to take his eyes off the dragon in case it decides to lash out, and snags the apple from up off the ground. “It’s okay,” he says, holding it out with his palm up. “You can take it if you want. Zeff says we don’t deny anybody food here, so I’m pretty sure you count.”
The dragon rears back in evident surprise, its eyes narrowing into slits as if to show its evident suspicion. However, when all Sanji does is stay where he is, it begins cautiously creeping forward.
Its talons click against the floorboards as it approaches, making Sanji very aware of the fact that it could probably shred him into pieces if it felt like it. Despite this, it does nothing of the sort, and instead extends its neck once it’s within range, sniffing cautiously at the apple.
Sanji watches it with baited breath, wondering if it’s going to accept the offer, and then frowns when it pulls its head back, huffing derisively. “What’s wrong with it?” He asks, shaking his hand for emphasis. “It’s a perfectly good apple!”
The dragon has the audacity to snort at him, and then sits back on its haunches. Behind it, its tail starts flicking back and forth, occasionally stumbling over other pieces of spilled produce in the process.
“I don’t get it,” Sanji frowns. “You broke in here and started pawing around in our food, so you’re clearly hungry. Why won’t you eat?”
In answer, the dragon bares its teeth at him, revealing row upon row of gleaming fangs that effectively give him his answer. “Oh duh,” he says, laughing in spite of himself. “You probably want meat, don’t you? That’s okay, I can get you some. Wait here!”
Shoving the apple into the pocket of his sleep pants, he darts out of the storage space without another word. Using the light that’s emanating from within it, though, he rushes off in the direction of the kitchen, well aware that there are some leftovers from yesterday’s dinner rush sitting in the back freezer.
It doesn’t take him long at all to find what he’s looking for. Ignoring anything that has a lot of vegetation or grain involved in its prep work, he takes up as much fish as he can get his hands on, and then rushes to the stove to heat it up.
Forever mindful of the lessons Zeff’s been imparting on him during their time together, he waits until he’s deemed the meat to be sufficiently warm, after which he puts everything back the way he’d found it, and trundles off with his prize.
He’s half expecting for the dragon to be gone by the time he returns, or maybe even for the whole experience to have been some kind of weird fever dream. He’s therefore pleasantly surprised when it’s still in the storage locker, in the exact same spot he’d left it.
“Here!” He says, holding up the plate triumphantly. “I bet you’ll like this stuff a lot better.”
Heedless of the fact that the dragon is clearly carnivorous, he steps brazenly into its personal space, so that he can set the plate of steaming fish down in front of it. “There you go,” he says with a flourish. “Eat up!”
Watching him warily with gray eyes the colour of steel, the dragon pointedly waits for him to back out of reach before it leans down to sniff the fish in much the same way it had the earlier apple. Unlike with the apple, however, this time it must approve of what it finds because it makes a pleased noise and then begins happily tearing into its meal.
“Good job,” Sanji tells it, flushing at the dragon’s sounds of evident enjoyment. He knows it’s probably a little silly to feel smug about the fact that a wild animal is eating something, but it clearly knows what it does and doesn’t like, and he’d personally had a hand in prepping that fish.
“Make sure you eat it all,” he adds absently, that mantra now forever ingrained in his mind after his experience on the rock. “It’s bad to waste food, and we don’t allow it around here.”
Unsurprisingly, the dragon doesn’t say anything, but it does keep eating with every sign of enjoyment, so Sanji’s going to count that as a win. Rocking back on his heels, he pulls the apple from earlier from his pocket and takes a bite as he contemplates their strange visitor.
Never having seen a dragon outside of a storybook before, he has no idea if this one is a typical example of its species or not. Standing at the size of maybe a small pony or an extremely large dog, most of its body is covered in bright green scales, while the colour dims somewhat when it reaches its chest and belly. Two dark horns curve up from its head, while wings that seem almost too big for its body unfurl from its back. Lastly, a lengthy tail trails out behind it, topped by a trio of sharp looking spikes.
“Huh,” Sanji says, chewing absently around another bite of apple. “I wonder where you came from.”
Once again, the dragon doesn’t answer. It does, however, finish devouring the last of its meal, spitting out an errant fishbone and sitting back with a contented sigh as it scrubs one front - hand? paw? Sanji’s not sure what to call it - over its snout.
“Tasty, huh?” Sanji asks with a pleased grin. “You won’t find better food in all of the East Blue than right here on this boat.”
The dragon makes an inquiring noise at this, but rather than moving to do anything further, it settles down on all fours and curls its tail around its front legs. At first Sanji thinks it might be about to settle in for a nap, but it surprises him by continuing to watch him, its eyes sharp as they size each other up.
“I like your scales,” Sanji says, now having gnawed his apple down nearly to the core. “They’re pretty.”
The dragon squawks, its wings fluttering in a way that Sanji thinks means it’s embarrassed. It then grumbles out a disgruntled noise, sounding distinctly put out.
“What’s the matter?” Sanji laughs. “You don’t like being called pretty?” He cocks his head to the side, giving the animal a scrutinizing look. “I bet that means you’re a boy dragon, huh. Not a girl one.”
The dragon makes a noise that’s emphatically a yes, regardless of the fact that it doesn’t speak in actual words. It also makes a face that suggests Sanji should have known this without having to ask.
“Hmm.” Having now finished with his apple, Sanji pockets the core and shuffles closer. “You know what I’m saying, don’t you? You can understand me.”
The dragon makes a motion that Sanji thinks is supposed to be a shrug, and then nods its head up and down gravely.
“Wow!” Sanji enthuses. “Can you speak too?”
This time the dragon shakes his head, and Sanji feels his shoulders droop. “That’s too bad,” he laments. “It’d be cool if you could. Oh well.”
Kind of wanting to get close enough to touch the creature, but likewise figuring that’d be rude and possibly dangerous, Sanji glances around the room, searching for a fresh topic of conversation. Instead, his eyes land on the produce that had spilled out of the crate when the dragon had fallen, and he scuttles over to it, figuring he should probably put it all away.
He inspects the various foodstuffs as he picks them up, pleased to see that nothing appears to have taken any serious damage as a result of its tumble. Meanwhile, the dragon watches him from where he’s still lying curled up, looking intrigued.
“I’m not supposed to waste food,” Sanji explains, placing a few more apples back in the bin. “I don’t know if you have a lot of experience in being hungry, but I do and it taught me how important this stuff is. I’ll feed anyone who needs it.”
The dragon nods, as if to say this makes sense, and flicks an ear as if to further confirm that he’s listening. Then he stretches out his neck, using his snout to send the sole remaining apple rolling in Sanji’s direction.
“Thanks,” Sanji says, bending down to scoop it up. “Though, if you don’t mind my saying so, you could stand to help a bit more with the clean up since you’re the one who made the mess.”
His eyes narrowing in obvious annoyance, the dragon makes an offended noise and turns his head to the side, as if to tell Sanji he refuses to dignify this comment with a response. His eyes miraculously narrow further when all this does is make Sanji laugh.
“You’re kinda weird, Mossy,” he says, which earns him an outright squeak from the dragon as it jerks its head around to glare at him. “What?” He asks, raising his hands defensively. “I’ve got to call you something, and you’re all green. It fits!”
The dragon hisses low under its breath, effectively conveying its opinion on Sanji’s choice of name. It then uncurls its tail and climbs to its feet, making Sanji briefly wonder if he’s crossed a line for real, when the sudden sound of raised voices startles them both.
“Why the hell is there a light on in one of the storage lockers? And why’s the door open?”
“How should I know? Go check it out, why don’t you?”
“You first! And don’t swear! You know how the head chef feels about doing that around the kid!”
“The kid should still be in bed!”
Normally Sanji’d be rolling his eyes at the sound of Patty and Carne’s stupid bickering, but there’s no time for that now. Darting forward, he flaps his arms wildly at the dragon, trying to encourage him to hide.
“You’ve got to get out of here!” He insists when all it does is stare at him. “I don’t know what they’ll do if they find you here, so you should take off.”
The dragon glances at the still open door and starts to move towards it, only to freeze part way there and turn around with a look that Sanji can only describe as blind panic. It glances at the far end of the locker, and then dives that way, effectively going in the wrong direction.
“What are you doing, stupid?!” Sanji barks. “That’s not what I told you to do at all!”
Ignoring him, the dragon scrambles over a bunch of other crates, slipping out of sight when it slithers in between two that effectively hide it from view. His heart pounding, Sanji waits with baited breath until it eventually reappears, now with something clutched in its mouth.
It’s a sword, he realizes belatedly. Tucked away in a pristine white sheath that the dragon is nevertheless handling with obvious care, it protrudes awkwardly from either side of the creature’s jaw, nearly tripping him up at one point when one end catches on the side of yet another crate.
“Why do you have that?” Sanji demands, but unsurprisingly receives no reply as the dragon scuttles across the floor.
Despite the fact that it fills a large chunk of the doorway, the dragon still crouches low as he peers outside. He doesn’t move for a moment, but must then decide that the coast is clear because he turns to give Sanji one final look before vanishing out into the last vestiges of the night.
Unable to help himself, Sanji darts across the room, not yet willing to believe their strange encounter is over. He makes it to the door just in time to see the dragon stretch his wings and leap over the side of the Baratie .
The dragon drops low at first, needing a moment to stabilize himself. Then he gives a few tentative flaps of his wings, catching the air and beginning to climb upwards.
He’s a little ungainly, Sanji notices, possibly thanks to the sword, but he’s moving under his own power, and it’s not long before he’s out of sight. Sanji stays staring at the spot where he’d last been visible, before the sound of approaching feet makes him tear his gaze away.
Murmuring a faint goodbye under his breath even though he doubts the dragon can hear him, he turns to find Patty and Carne stumbling down a nearby set of steps, neither of them looking particularly awake yet. As he watches, Carne adjusts his glasses where they’re riding low on his nose.
“What the heck are you doing down here at this hour, squirt?” The older chef asks, giving Sanji a funny look. “You should still be in bed.”
“Don’t tell me what to do,” Sanji snaps, immediately bristling. He squares his shoulders and gives them both the best stink eye he can muster. “I woke up and I was hungry, so I came down to get a snack. What’s it to you?”
Long since having gotten used to Sanji’s somewhat mercurial temper, Carne holds his hands up in a placating gesture, while next to him Patty rolls his eyes. “You’re such a brat,” the other man scoffs. “Somedays I wonder why the head chef keeps you around.”
“Because aside from him I’m the best cook on this ship,” Sanji boasts, even though deep down he often finds himself wondering that too. He doesn’t think he’ll ever understand what made Zeff decide to take him in, and he definitely doesn’t think he’ll ever deserve it.
Still, Patty and Carne don’t need to know that, just like they don’t need to know what Sanji had stumbled over in the storage locker. Doing his best not to appear suspicious, he stomps past the pair of them, intent on heading to his room so he can get dressed for the day.
*****
Sanji effectively keeps the secret of the dragon to himself, albeit not without some difficulty. He hadn’t thought about how much meat he was removing from the freezer the night he’d fed the creature, and Zeff’s eyebrows had been raised so high they’d nearly left his forehead altogether when Sanji had claimed he’d eaten it all on his own. It’s clear the old man doesn’t believe him, but he’d let the issue go with only a few comments about how Sanji must be coming up on a growth spurt.
Pleased that he seems to have been successful in keeping his secret - after all, what are the odds that anyone would make the jump from missing food to there having been a literal dragon onboard - he goes about his days on the Baratie like normal. He cooks, learns from Zeff, and does his chores without any more incidents than usual. If he spends a little more time than average looking out the windows for a flash of bright green scales, well, no one needs to know that but him.
Eventually, a few weeks pass by with nothing new happening, and Sanji’s almost convinced himself the whole thing was some kind of crazy dream when he’s woken up in the middle of the night by a strange, repetitive tapping sound. It takes him a moment to realize that there’s something outside his bedroom window, but when he does, he rolls out of bed to go take a look.
The porthole is stiff due to the fact that he doesn’t touch it very often, but with enough determination he’s able to force it open, after which he’s greeted by the sight of familiar gray eyes and limbs that still seem to be too big for their owner’s body.
“You came back,” he exclaims, feeling inordinately pleased when the dragon bobs his head up and down in agreement. He wriggles excitedly when Sanji grins, opening his mouth in an approximation of the same thing.
“Are you hungry again?” Sanji asks, wondering if that’s what’s drawn it back to the Baratie . “I can make you something else if you want.”
In answer, the dragon rears up on his hind legs and tries to shove his head through the porthole, as if it has any hope of ever fitting. Sanji doesn’t need words to see this as a sign of excitement, but he also can’t have the creature accidentally doing damage to the ship.
“Stop that,” he scolds, flapping his hands to shoo the dragon back. “You’re head’s way too big, and so’s the rest of you. Also, quiet down. If you wake up the old geezer next door, for all I know he might try to cook you.”
The dragon snorts, clearly unimpressed, but he nevertheless pulls back. His claws tap absently against the deck in what Sanji can only assume is anticipation, and he jerks his head from side to side, Sanji suspects with the intention of spurring him into movement.
“Alright, hold your horses,” he says. “I’m coming, but I’m going to use the door like a civilized person. Wait for me there and don’t you dare move.”
It’s dark again just like it was during their last meeting, so Sanji can’t see whether or not the dragon rolls his eyes at him. He gets the sense that’s the kind of thing it’d like to do, however, so he sticks his tongue out before moving away from the window.
Luckily, the dragon’s waiting for him exactly as he’d asked when he exits his room and comes around the corner. It flutters its wings in an apparent greeting, coming to attention when Sanji motions for it to follow him.
He hears a clicking sound that can only be the dragons talons on the wooden decking as they walk, and it snuffles curiously at various parts of the ship as they pass. Thankfully, it’s quiet aside from this, and Sanji himself is well versed in the art of being seen and not heard when he wants to be, so they don’t alert anyone to their presence.
Sanji finds the kitchen with practiced ease, although he has to turn and check on the dragon a couple of times because more than once it starts to veer off in the incorrect direction. They make it eventually, however, and Sanji leads his scaly companion over to the large walk-in freezer.
“You probably don’t want to go in there,” he notes, spotting the way the dragon shies away from the burst of cold air that escapes when he hauls open the heavy door. “So you can just wait here and I’ll pick something out.”
As usual, the freezer is host to a large variety of fish and other meats, presenting Sanji with all kinds of options. Suspecting that Zeff’d be less annoyed at losing leftovers again, he snatches up some of those and carries them outside for the dragon to inspect.
Looking incredibly out of place among the rows of prep tables and polished kitchen implements, the dragon hunkers down in a way that Sanji suspects is meant for him to take up as little space as possible. He perks up upon the sight of food, however, and wriggles in anticipation.
“You have to wait,” Sanji says when it looks like the dragon’s giving consideration to simply snatching the meat out of his hands. “It needs to thaw out first.”
The dragon makes a strange noise and opens its mouth, expelling a cloud of steam that Sanji can feel despite the fact that he’s standing a few feet away. At first it takes him a minute to figure out what he’s seeing, and then he remembers exactly what else it is that dragons are famous for.
“ Wow ,” he enthuses. “Can you really breathe fire?”
The dragon shrugs his shoulders dismissively, but eventually nods in the face of Sanji’s evident interest.
“That’s so cool!” Sanji says excitedly. “I’d ask you to show me, but we probably shouldn’t do that in here. We’ll both be in big trouble if you accidentally burn down the restaurant or something.”
The dragon gives him an affronted look, as if to say he’s offended by the suggestion that he’d do something so careless. Having seen how he reacts to being startled, however, Sanji thinks he’s only being fair.
Letting the subject drop, he returns to the task at hand. The dragon waits with surprising patience as he bustles around the kitchen doing this, that, and the other thing, and then makes an excited noise when Sanji eventually presents him with a plate of perfectly cooked meat.
“Try not to make a mess,” Sanji says, stepping back after he lays the plate out on the ground. Across from him, the dragon trots forward and quickly digs into the meal, his tail wriggling happily as he tears into the fish with wild abandon.
“Are you not getting enough food wherever you are when you’re not here?” Sanji asks worriedly. “Because you eat like you’re starving.”
In answer, the dragon does his best to swallow an entire fish whole, and nearly chokes in the process. Sputtering, it spits the fish back out where it can hook a couple talons over it, holding it in place so it can strip the meat off the bones that way instead.
“That’s disgusting,” Sanji declares, nevertheless unable to look away. “Didn’t anyone ever teach you manners?”
For a split second, the dragon pauses in his quest to eviscerate everything Sanji’s laid in front of him. Then he rolls his eyes and spits an errant chunk of bone in Sanji’s direction.
“Eww!” Sanji shrieks, batting it away with a furiously flailing hand. “What is the matter with you? Were you raised in a barn ? I know you can understand me, you big jerk, so stop being an ass.”
Now the dragon lets out a strange hissing sound, and it takes Sanji a second to realize that the creature is laughing at him. Scowling ferociously, he stomps forward until they’re face to face with maybe an inch or two to spare. “Quit it!” He snaps. “Don’t be rude.”
Much to his surprise, the dragon freezes and pulls back slightly. This lasts for only a moment, though, and soon he slinks forward again until he can nudge his forehead against Sanji’s in a tentative and painless headbutt.
Startled, Sanji doesn’t move at first, but then he gently presses back in a mirror image of what the dragon’s just done. The motion makes his companion let out a pleased noise, and Sanji feels his own face break out in a grin.
“Is this how you say hello?” He asks, his recent ire forgotten as an odd sensation of warmth floods through him. “Are you asking to be friends?”
The dragon doesn’t answer, of course, at least not out loud, but there’s a certain air about him that makes Sanji think he’s not far off the mark. Since he likes this idea, he decides to run with it.
“Okay, we can be friends,” he announces. “And I’ll feed you whenever you come to visit. How’s that sound?”
He feels the dragon’s scales brush against his own skin as he nods, and he has to stamp down on a fit of giggles that try to burst from his throat. “It’s a deal,” he declares, even though the dragon hasn’t technically said anything. “I’m Sanji by the way, so what do I call you?”
The dragon pulls back far enough to blink its steel gray eyes at him, but otherwise remains unhelpful on this issue. Telling himself they can sort that out later, Sanji nudges at the half empty plate with his foot, and motions for him to finish his meal.
*****
They never quite manage to settle the name thing. The dragon keeps coming back over the following weeks - not every night, but still frequently - and each time Sanji tries calling him something new. He rejects each one by turn, and eventually Sanji settles for referring to him by a series of teasing nicknames, most of which reference his green colouring.
“Marimo, get down!”
Case in point - catching his companion stretching up on his haunches to inspect a pot that’s simmering on the stove - Sanji busts out one of his favorite monikers to get the dragon’s attention. When this earns him an annoyed grunt but no real acquiescence, he strides forward to shove at him as well.
“I said down!” He insists, planting his hand near the base of one of the dragon’s wings and shoving. It works about as well as he’s expecting since he’s quickly learned that said dragon is solidly built to say the least, but it does serve to get his attention.
Letting out another irritated noise, the dragon twists his neck around until he can glare balefully at Sanji. The effect is somewhat lost thanks to the fact that the angle he’s at has his head almost upside down, but his intended message is nevertheless received.
“Don’t give me that look,” Sanji retorts, planting his hands on a hip with a scowl. “Zeff says to always be careful around the stove, or you can get hurt. Also, it’s not ready yet.”
Now the dragon rolls his eyes, but at least he straightens out of the bizarre arrangement he’s contorted himself into. Even better, he goes so far as to step away from the stove, settling down on all fours with a quiet huff.
“Good boy,” Sanji murmurs, shifting his hand to scratch behind one of the dragon’s ears in a way he knows he likes. “It won’t be much longer, I promise.”
The dragon rumbles out a noise from deep in his chest, his tail thumping quietly as he leans into Sanji’s touch, shoving at him when he starts to pull his hand away too soon.
“You’re so weird,” Sanji giggles, giving him one last pat. “But that’s enough. I still want to chop those vegetables, and I need both my hands for that.”
Dragging said hands back, he’s not surprised when the dragon chases after him to try and get in a few more scratches. Evading the swaying motions with now practiced ease, Sanji laughs outright when the dragon playfully snaps its teeth at him, confident that there’s no real intent to harm in the action.
“None of that, Mossy,” he says, wandering over to the prep table where he’s already laid out his chopping knife and foodstuffs. Stepping onto the footstool he uses because the counter is still a bit high for him, he picks up the knife and gets to work.
The meat currently simmering on the stove is for his visitor, but the vegetables are more so to give him something to do. The dragon still has no interest in them, but Sanji likes to keep busy and it’s a way for him to help get the Baratie ready for business each time he does this.
He knows Zeff’s starting to find his behaviour suspicious, what with his repeated questions as to why Sanji keeps sneaking into the kitchen in the middle of the night. Surprisingly, though, the head chef hasn’t told him to stop what he’s doing, instead only sternly reminding him to clean everything properly once he’s done.
Choosing to see this as permission of a sort, Sanji now uses the nights where the dragon comes to visit for two purposes. Firstly, he feeds and roughhouses with his friend, basking in the strange creature’s company for as long as he can have it. Secondly, he practices in the kitchen, using the time to experiment in new ways while the dragon either doses nearby or chitters at him as he works.
It looks like tonight’s going to be an example of the second scenario. Clearly in a talkative mood - which is something of a rarity - the dragon hauls himself up onto a nearby bench, balancing there precariously so he can strain his neck outwards and get a better look at what he’s doing.
“Careful,” Sanji says, trying his best to concentrate on what he’s doing. “I’ve already learned the hard way how sharp these kitchen knives are, and I don’t want to cut myself or get blood on any food either. You know how I feel about wasted food.”
Next to him, the dragon nods solemnly, well aware of this thanks to the multiple lectures Sanji’s given him about making sure he eats everything on his plate. Almost absently, it then nudges at another of the knives that Sanji has cleaned and ready for when he goes to use it.
“What did I just say?” Sanji demands when he sees this. “Those are sharp, dummy. I don’t care how thick your hide is, you’ll cut yourself if you’re not careful with them. Of the two of us, I feel like you should know better.”
This last line is a crack at the sheathed sword the dragon always drags with it whenever it comes to visit. Sanji’s never laid eyes on the blade itself beyond the hilt, and the dragon had nearly taken his arm off at the wrist the one time he’d tried to touch it, but it’s clear the weapon is incredibly important to his friend, as it’s never far out of reach.
What the dragon thinks he’s going to do with a perpetually sheathed sword, Sanji hasn’t the faintest idea. He’d asked once if the dragon was planning on starting to horde blades instead of gold, but that had just gotten him an incredulous stare in response, followed by the hissing sound that signifies laughter. To date, he hasn’t asked again.
Returning his attention to his work, Sanji starts chopping the carrot in front of him. He’s still nowhere near as fast or as even as Zeff when it comes to jobs like this, but he’s definitely getting better. It’s also been a while since he’s nicked himself and required a bandage.
Busy with what he’s doing, Sanji fails to notice the sound of the main door swinging open. The dragon does, however, jerking around with a dismayed noise and effectively destroying Sanji’s concentration when he leaps down off the bench in a flurry of limbs.
“Wha -?” Sanji starts, dropping the knife as he whirls around just in time to see a large form striding towards him at speed.
“Eggplant, get away from that thing!”
Zeff’s voice, always loud at the best of times, echoes across the kitchen as it booms out of his chest. Likewise, one of his large hands catches Sanji by the back of his shirt, physically hauling him away from where the dragon is scrambling to get its bearings.
“Old man, let me go,” Sanji shrieks, while now several feet away the dragon makes a distressed noise he’s never heard before. “You’re scaring him!”
“Good!” Zeff barks, jerking Sanji back even further while simultaneously trying to shove the boy behind him. “I don’t know where the hell it came from, but don’t you touch it. Let me deal with it.”
Sanji’s eyes widen in horror, and he panics without thinking. All he can picture is Judge’s reaction anytime he’d come across him feeding an animal on the castle grounds, and a sob tears its way out of his throat at the notion of his dragon suffering the same fate as those mice or birds.
“No!” He yowls, tears springing to his eyes as he thrashes desperately in the chef’s grip. “Nononono, you can’t! You can’t! He didn’t do anything wrong, it was me! I’m the one who fed him! Please don’t hurt him! Please !”
Twisting as best as he’s able, he kicks out blindly, and by pure luck catches Zeff right at the spot where the wooden peg connects to his bad knee. The older man bellows in shock as much as anything else, but his handhold slackens just enough for Sanji to yank himself the rest of the way free.
“Kid, what the hell ?!” Zeff shouts, lunging forward to try and grab him as he dashes across the room. “Get away from it!”
Continuing his mad rush, Sanji ignores him. Meanwhile, obviously getting riled up by all the noise and yelling, the dragon bolts towards him, somehow managing to shove itself between Sanji and Zeff despite the awkward confines of the kitchen space.
“Don’t hurt him!” Sanji screams again, although this time he’s not sure which of them he’s talking to. Both dragon and adult look like they’re mere seconds from attacking each other, and Sanji throws his arms around the dragon’s neck, trying to scramble back in between them.
“Stop! Stop! STOP !” He sobs, clinging to the dragon and yanking in a vain attempt to push it backwards. “I’ll make him leave, I promise. Just don’t hurt him because you’re mad at me!”
Something in his tone must get through because both Zeff and the dragon freeze. For a moment, the only sounds in the kitchen are their two ragged breathing and Sanji’s harsh whimpers, and then Zeff takes a careful step back.
“ Kid ,” he says, sounding exhausted. “I’ve got no interest in hurting the damn thing, and I’m sure as shit not angry. I just don’t want it hurting you . However,” he adds as Sanji makes a startled noise, “now that I’ve had a second to gather my wits, I’m getting the sense that he’s after the same damn thing. Come here, why don’t you, and let’s see if we can’t sort this mess out.”
“Not until you promise not to hurt him,” Sanji insists, still clutching the dragon’s neck. “Please, don’t hurt him.”
Sighing tiredly, Zeff drags a finger over his heart in a strange crossing motion. “You have my word, I won’t lay a hand on his scaly hide. Now, come let me get a look at you, and then you can tell me where he came from.”
Terrified but trying not to show it, Sanji releases his grip and takes a few tentative steps towards Zeff, squeaking in surprise when the older man eats up the distance between them and scoops him into his arms. A fresh flood of tears hits him then, and Sanji buries his face in a burly shoulder as he wails.
“Alright, alright,” Zeff murmurs, rubbing Sanji’s back with a hand that spans almost its entire width. “There’s no need to be getting all worked up. No one’s in trouble, and no one’s going to hurt anyone else either. Your little friend there’s going to be just fine, and so are you.”
“Yes, I promise ,” he adds when Sanji once again opens his mouth to demand such an assurance. “And you know I’m not a liar, right?”
“R - right,” Sanji chokes, swiping ineffectively at his tear stained face as he tries to calm down.
Noticing this, Zeff grunts and unhooks one of his arms from around Sanji’s body while still holding him with the other. He then proceeds to use his teeth to tug his shirt sleeve down farther than it’s meant to go, and uses the now excess fabric to brush at Sanji’s eyes.
“Easy does it now,” he says, turning Sanji’s face this way and that until he can mop up most of the moisture. “There. I imagine a real face cloth would be preferable, but that’s better than nothing, isn’t it?”
“Yes,” Sanji says meekly. “M’sorry for crying. I know I’m not supposed to.”
“Funny, I don’t recall ever making that rule,” Zeff says with a snort. “There’s nothing wrong with crying. It’s a perfectly natural function. Now then,” he adds once Sanji’s stiltedly nodded in confusion. “Do you want to tell me what in god’s name is going on here? What is that , and where did it come from?”
“He’s a dragon,” Sanji says, following the chef’s gaze over to where his friend is now resting on his haunches, albeit with his body much more tense than usual. “I found him.”
“Found him where?” Zeff asks.
“In one of the storage lockers,” Sanji replies. “I woke up in the middle of the night and went to go make myself a snack. He was already in there looking for something for himself because he was hungry too.”
“You fed him, didn’t you?” Zeff correctly surmises. “And you’ve kept right on feeding him ever since. I knew there was no way you were eating all that meat yourself. Though, I was banking on you having snuck a dog onboard as opposed to … this.”
“He mainly snuck himself on,” Sanji says after a moment’s contemplation. “And he’s not here every night. He leaves after we’re done hanging out, and I don’t know where he goes after that. He can understand me, but he can’t talk.”
“He can - wait. He can understand you ?” Zeff asks. “You’re telling me he’s sentient?”
“Yeah,” Sanji says, twisting around to gesture at the dragon while Zeff mumbles something like ‘of course you know what that means’ under his breath. “Mossy, come here, will you? We need to show the old man that you’re not a wild animal.”
“That’s not his real name,” he explains, squirming around in a signal for Zeff to put him down. Once he’s safely back on his feet, he straightens his pajama shirt and does his best to reclaim a little of his dignity. “I haven’t managed to guess it yet, though, and I’ve got to call him something.”
“And he answers to that ?” Zeff asks skeptically, making Sanji choke out a ragged laugh.
“Sort of,” he says, holding his hands out to the cautiously approaching dragon. “It’s more like he gets huffy at me and pretends to be annoyed by it. Right, Marimo?” He adds, curling his fingers around the dragon’s jaw as soon as he’s within reach. “You don’t mind my silly nicknames, do you? And it’s your own fault for not telling me your real one, isn’t it?”
As expected, the dragon snorts derisively, but rather than pull away in a huff, he presses his forehead to Sanji’s, letting out an inquisitive croon as if to ask if he’s alright.
“M’okay,” Sanji murmurs, scratching him lightly under the chin. “But you gotta behave, yeah? No making the old man angry or doing stuff that’ll make him run you off.”
“That’s assuming he’d even let me,” Zeff says dryly, effectively revealing that Sanji hadn’t been speaking low enough to keep him from overhearing. “It looks like he’s pretty attached to you, Eggplant.”
“He’s my friend,” Sanji confirms, sliding his hands lower to loop his arms around the dragon’s neck in a loose hold instead. “He won’t hurt anybody here, honest.”
“Hmph, why don’t we let him acknowledge that for himself then?” Zeff suggests. Straightening to his full height, he crosses his arms over his chest and stares down at the dragon, his mustache bristling. “You, Cabbage, is the brat telling the truth when he says you won’t hurt anyone on my ship?”
Startled, the dragon takes a moment to respond, but then bobs his head slowly up and down despite the fact that Sanji’s still hanging off of him.
Zeff snorts. “Good. Then you know that means no biting, clawing, or otherwise eviscerating people - including the customers?”
Again the dragon nods, and Zeff’s mustache twitches like he’s amused. “Okay, and likewise you understand that you’re not to set a single damn thing on fire that isn’t supposed to be? I don’t know jack shit about dragons, but if that’s a real thing you can do, you can bet your ass you’re gonna do it somewhere else.”
“He can,” Sanji acknowledges. “But I already told him he shouldn’t here, and he listened to me.”
“I’ll just bet he did,” Zeff mutters, followed by a long suffering sigh. “Alright, Eggplant, you can keep your little friend so long as he behaves himself. If he puts so much as one claw out of line, though, we’re going to have to send him packing.”
“Also,” he says firmly, continuing on before Sanji has a chance to begin babbling a host of assurances. “Do not let him near the customers. I suspect hiding him from the crew will be impossible in the long run, but the patrons can’t see him. Is that clear? I don’t know what’d be worse, him scaring them off, or him attracting people to come gawk at or even try to hunt him.”
“We can’t let that happen,” Sanji insists, once again tightening his grip around the dragon’s neck. “Do you really think people would try to hurt him?”
It’s the dragon who makes an unsurprised noise first, and Zeff nods at him in apparent agreement. “By my guess, I doubt it’d be the first time. People fear what they don’t understand, and sometimes they think rarities should be put on display. If you don’t want to risk having him stuffed into a cage or maybe just stuffed period, you’ll keep him out of sight.”
“We’ll be good,” Sanji assures him, but lower still, he murmurs for the dragon’s ears alone. “I won’t let anything happen to you, I swear.”