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“Turn it off.”
Usopp frowned, and he looked over his makeshift radio to peer inquisitively at Sanji, who’d stopped his motions in the kitchens to glare at the sharpshooter. “The radio? Why? I love this song!”
Usopp turned the volume down, swaying happily to the beat and murmuring unintelligible Northern words under his breath as his newest-favorite song played on repeat. He’d heard it first over the North Blue channel, which was playing its modern classics playlist, and the audios got stuck in his head all day. He never knew what the words meant , but the beats were catchy as hell.
Sanji stared at Usopp with a blank expression. “At the very least, if you are going to listen to music no one else wants to hear, wear earphones. ”
Usopp crumpled his nose, offended, then took a clear look around the room. Robin was crocheting in the nook of the galley, while Brook read the newspaper across from her on the sofa. Zoro was dozing on the ground on the opposite side of the room. It was a normal rainy day on the seas, where many crew members sought the warmth of the galley as Sanji cooked.
“It doesn’t seem to bother anyone else.” Usopp complained, and Zoro opened his eye to glare back at Sanji. “Prissy Cook. I, for one, want to keep listening.”
Sanji threw his hands up in frustration. “I bet you don’t even care! You just wanna annoy me, don’t you?” Sanji left his work station to stomp up into Zoro’s space, and Usopp put his hands up placatingly as the tension spiked in the otherwise calm galley. “Wait! I get it- I’ll stop the radio! Gosh.”
“No, let the Cook deal with it.” Zoro gritted his teeth. Usopp mentally rolled his eyes. This was becoming much more trouble than it was worth. “Keep it on, Long-nose.”
Usopp’s eyes flitted between the two wings of the crew, and he sighed, sitting back in his chair in defeat. “Let the room take a vote, then.”
Without another word, hands were raised around the galley, and Sanji clamped his mouth shut, striding back behind the counter of his kitchen with a bitter, ‘ fine ’.
Usopp felt Sanji’s stare as he continued tinkering with his tools at the dinner table, singing silently to himself, and he smiled with self-satisfaction when he finished his latest trinket, a small wind turbine that turned using a tiny solar panel at the bottom. It was the perfect paperweight.
Usopp’s gaze drew from the turbine to Sanji, curiously noting the chef’s body language as the man leaned on the counter, letting a slow breath of smoke out with his cigarette. He looked almost contemplative as he gazed at the radio with a faraway expression. He seemed melancholy, though Usopp couldn’t fathom the reason why. Sanji was never one to be brought down by such a trivial argument.
Usopp turned away and sighed. At least he didn’t look angry . Usopp drummed his fingers as the tempo increased, and his heart sang as the chorus performed the best part of the song.
Sanji’s eyes broke away from the radio to Usopp as the sniper started singing loudly in earnest, throwing horribly mispronounced words and butchering each foreign syllable with complete disregard for accuracy as the chorus sang their stanzas. A small smile formed on the blonde’s lips, and Usopp internally cheered at the change in mood, in turn becoming more obnoxious with his singing in an attempt to widen the expression.
Throwing his arm into the air for theatrics, Usopp ended the song with a wide smile, hearing the sarcastic applause from his Nakama for his marvelous performance. Sanji let a light laugh fall out before joining the claps, and he resumed his work with a renewed enthusiasm, much to Usopp’s relief.
His favorite song finished and his project completed, Usopp gathered his belongings and left the galley.
~ . ~ . ~
“Wow, you really like that radio, Usopp-bro.” Franky lightly remarked as Usopp hunkered down in their workshop, idly picking up pieces of the cyborg’s latest machine and screwing down the parts.
“Yeah, the songs are super catchy.” Usopp replied. His hands paused as a new song came up from the same channel, the notes and rhythms completely different to the music he’d grown up listening to in the East Blue. “These North Blue classics are true masterpieces.”
Franky’s smile quirked upwards. “Careful, Brook will get jealous of the thing.” He teased, and Usopp laughed, nodding his head to the addicting beat. He clicked the record button he’d made on the side of the contraption, knowing he’d want to listen to it again later. Franky hummed along to the music in the background, and Usopp let himself get lost in the sounds.
“Sorry, Usopp, but can you bring me some rope from the storage room?” Franky asked suddenly, and Usopp nodded, snatching the radio in one hand while he stood up, making the shipwright chuckle warmly as the sharpshooter left the room.
Usopp made his way downstairs, picking up the bundles of rope until it piled above his head, the music becoming muffled as layers of cord fell over the speaker. Usopp grunted as he slowly made his way up the stairs, his head feeling damp as he started to cross the deck again amongst the drizzling rain.
Sanji was walking down the stairs from the galley, balancing a large tray in his hand, presumably to bring Nami and Robin their snacks in their rooms, when Usopp’s foot slipped from under him, and the blonde rushed forwards, his free arm coming up in an attempt to steady the other man.
The ropes tumbled out of Usopp’s arms as he fell forwards, and the radio cluttered loudly on the deck, skidding to a stop right beside Sanji’s foot, the music growing louder as the speaker became freed. A vein protruded from Sanji’s forehead as he steadied Usopp from in front of him, and his foot came up to crush the object without preamble, his eyes widening with shock as he did so.
Usopp’s mouth opened into a wordless gape, staring between the juxtaposition of Sanji’s erring foot and crumpled guilty expression. “What- No! Why’d you do that?!” Usopp finally sputtered out, and he knelt down to scoop the utterly destroyed remnants of his crushed radio.
“I didn’t mean to.” Sanji sputtered out, and Usopp rounded on the chef with a look of disbelief. “You didn’t mean to? How does one accidentally go OUT OF THEIR WAY to crush something on the ground?! Your stance wasn’t even unbalanced!”
Usopp was fully yelling now, and Sanji nervously glanced across deck to check if any of the other crewmates were listening in on the conversation. “You’ve been against my radio this whole time! Don’t you know how much I liked it?” Usopp continued, and he pocketed the remains, genuinely upset with the other man.
Sanji, for his part, looked rightfully culpable as Franky and Brook poked their heads out of their respective rooms. Franky’s mouth was carved into a deep frown as he regarded the scene, walking up to silently pick up the ropes while watching the sharpshooter.
Brook tentatively put a hand to Usopp’s shoulder. “If you tell me how the songs go, I could try to play it for you?”
Usopp let out a long-suffering sigh before shaking his head. “Nah. I'll just head to the bunkrooms for a minute.” Shooting Sanji one last glare, Usopp marched away from his crewmates on deck to the relative silence of the bunkrooms.
Usopp closed the door behind him, sadly bringing the broken pieces of the radio from his pockets. Damn, he would have loved to hear more of that song.
~ . ~ . ~
“He really just… crushed your radio?” Franky eyebrows raised, and Usopp snorted at the shipwright’s aggressive tone, thankful that someone was angry on his behalf. “I don’t think he really meant it.” Usopp muttered, and he fiddled with the remains of his old contraption.
The two of them were back in the workshop the following day, and the sharpshooter decided to skip out on breakfast, as he was still mad at the chef. “Sorry, bro. Even I can’t fix it without the parts needed, and the most critical ones look unsalvageable.” Franky noted.
A light knock came from the door, and Franky turned away as he saw Sanji tentatively walk through the opening, giving the other two as much privacy as he could. Usopp watched as Franky made himself busy with his machinery, feeling the chef settle down on the ground beside him.
Sanji settled Usopp’s breakfast plate on the floor, waiting for the sharpshooter to meet his eyes before speaking. “I’m really sorry, Usopp.” Sanji said softly, the volume low enough to keep Franky out of the conversation, though the cyborg was undoubtedly listening in.
Usopp crossed his arms, not willing to say anything without further explanation from the other man. “I lost control of my leg for a second there. I’d tell you why, but it’s just an excuse.” Sanji continued, and he coaxed Usopp to pick up the plate.
Usopp begrudgingly took it into his hands, chewing it slowly. He closed his eyes. Damn it, Sanji had prepared the eggs exactly how he loved it. Such sincerity made it hard to hold a grudge.
“...I’d still like to know.” Usopp muttered, and Sanji sighed, leaning back on the side of the wall. “Spent a bit of my childhood in captivity. Didn’t have a lot to do besides begging the guards for something to practice my cooking on. One of them gave me a radio. Those classics you were listening to? I played them on repeat when they came out; not much else you can do in a cell.”
Usopp’s grip on the plate was lost completely, and he let it down with a heavy clunk , worrying for a moment the porcelain would shatter on impact. The workshop was deadly silent, a clear indication that Franky had long forgotten his pretence of keeping busy.
Sanji reached out to turn over a piece of the radio in his hands absentmindedly. “It was unfair to ask you to stop listening to them. For the record, you have good taste. They were my favorites at the time, but for some reason, I couldn’t bring myself to listen to them after I got out. Made me sick to my stomach.”
Usopp snatched the piece of trash from Sanji’s hands. “You won’t have to worry about hearing them again. I’m sorry.”
Sanji looked surprised. “No, you don’t have to stop for me. I think I like the first one, again.”
“The one I sang in the galley?” Usopp asked, and Sanji nodded, a small smile ghosting his face. “I think I could like them again, so please, don’t stop for me.”
“What? Should I do something stupid for each song? Override your bad memories?” Usopp smiled wider, and Sanji laughed with him.
“I was just so startled on the deck yesterday, my leg moved automatically. I promise, I didn’t do it on purpose.” Sanji said, and Usopp nodded. “You’re forgiven. Honestly, I wasn’t even that mad. I was just mourning the loss of that one song.”
Sanji tilted his head. “ Papaoutai? ” Sanji snorted to himself. “That one suits you,” He murmured, and Usopp frowned uncomprehendingly at the statement.
Usopp picked up his plate to eat as Sanji stood up, giving Usopp one last glance before exiting the workshop.
~ . ~ . ~
Word travels fast around the Sunny. Sanji noted some poorly hidden stares as he worked in his kitchen the next few days, and he breathed a sigh of relief as they docked at the next island.
Sanji walked into town, his eyes searching the line of shops in the port town, and he internally cheered when he found his desired store in a back alley.
“Do you have any radios?” Sanji asked, his eyes flitting through the aisles of second-hand trinkets and equipment. The person manning the shop looked up from their counter to nod, pleased to have someone interested in their merchandise.
Leading Sanji to his desired aisle, Sanji browsed the displays, his eyebrows furrowing in confusion as he regarded the different specifications for each. “Which ones can reach North Blue frequencies?” Sanji asked, and the shopkeeper’s eyebrows raised in surprise.
“Northern radio? That one’s tough- the signal’s all the way out there!”
Sanji shrugged helplessly, and the shopkeeper read through the different specifications with a renewed vigour. He fiddled with the frequencies for a few, before finally letting out a cheer as Northern audio flowed through the speaker. “This one can!”
“I’ll take it! Thank you.” Sanji enthusiastically put whatever berries he had on the counter, mentally noting he’d have to ask Nami for grocery money later.
Sanji walked back to the Sunny, radio music filtering softly from his pockets, and he paused as a familiar song started playing. A feeling of unease settled into his stomach and he wrenched the volume dial all the way down to again walk in silence.
Sanji opened the door to the workshop, placing the radio carefully on Usopp’s workbench before turning the volume dial up to let soft music encompass the room. Sanji closed his eyes as he shut the door behind him, remembering how his younger self used to love those same songs with a passion, memorizing each lyric as they reverberated against cold stone.
He missed that passion. In a way, he owed Usopp for reminding him of the songs he’d long-since forgotten.
He’d ask Usopp to listen to them together. Maybe then, he’d be able to enjoy them as he once did.