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"Like this?" said Luffy, staring at Zoro and Sanji and slamming the door against the entrance.
"NO! DON'T FORCE IT LIKE THAT, YOU'LL BREAK THE DOOR IN HALF!" the two boys shouted at the same time. "TURN IT! STOP TRYING TO FORCE IT!"
"Did you say to force it?" Luffy asked, turning toward the door and the entrance. He didn't think it would work, but they told him to... Go ahead!
The sound of the door opening echoed throughout the restaurant, and the other customers couldn't help but stare in shock. He had just forced the door... the wrong way!
Luffy peered between the piece of door he was holding and the two other pieces on the floor. He seemed to be right. He knew it wouldn't work! A growl came from the floor in front of him, and when he looked down, he saw someone crawling toward the restaurant entrance. The man didn't look good: his eyes were bloodshot, and his skin was pale.
"What the hell, Luffy!" Sanji's voice came from the entrance, behind the boy. "You broke the damn door! We said NO..." He stopped his tirade when he saw a figure crawling along the Baratie dock.
Zoro remained silent, watching the bag of bones drag itself past Sanji to stand next to Luffy. What? What an accurate description!
He was a middle-aged man with black hair and a disheveled beard. He was small, and his clothes were in tatters. He wore only ripped black trousers and an equally torn white tank top. He seemed unharmed, except for his emaciated body, probably due to lack of food. "Please," the man pleaded, "I have no money, but I'm starving." A fit of coughing came over him, and he waited a moment for it to subside. "Please," the man continued, "I feel like I'm dying."
Sanji quietly walked past Luffy and Zoro and knelt before the man on the ground. "Can you go to the back of the restaurant?" he asked softly. "If you can, I promise you something delicious to eat. For free." He smiled a comforting smile: "No one deserves to know what it feels like to starve to death."
Luffy and Zoro's eyes widened at the blond man's words, and they both came to the same astonishing conclusion. That he could say that...
The man on the ground sobbed as his eyes began to water. "Thank you, young man. Thank you so much," he cried. "I think I can get back there on my own," he groaned, and began to crawl again.
Sanji turned around, and the two boys watched him walk toward them. They glanced at each other as he passed, and the same thought crossed their minds. The chef was much more than he seemed.
The furrowed-browed teenager walked past the other two boys and through the doorway, heading for the kitchen. He had work to do.
Luffy and Zoro tore their gaze away from Sanji, who was walking away, and turned their attention back to the man crawling along the wooden planks of the ship's restaurant. They nodded to each other. Luffy dropped the piece of door he was holding and sat down on one side of the man, Zoro on the other. Carefully, they helped him to his feet, and the man sighed, allowing the two strong young men to bear some of his weight. "No need to crawl all the way here, old man," Luffy grinned as they led him to where Sanji had indicated.
A mark formed on the old man's head. "Old man?! You damned brat, I'm in-." A fit of coughing seized him and interrupted his fury.
"Relax, old man. Relax. We'll take care of this," said the green-haired swordsman calmly, oblivious to the man's growing anger.
A second mark appeared on his head, right next to the first: "I said I only have four..." Another coughing fit struck him, and his fury was interrupted once more.
Luffy's eyes lit up. "Are you four hundred years old?" he asked excitedly. He'd never met anyone so old!
The man couldn't take it anymore. "I SAID I'M ONLY FORTY-THREE!" he yelled. Just as he finished, blood gushed from his mouth as he suffered an even more violent coughing fit.
"Damn... You didn't have to worry so much about that," Zoro said as if the man he was carrying hadn't coughed up a large amount of blood.
"Four hundred is an eternity!" Luffy exclaimed. He completely ignored the man's outburst and the blood trickling from his mouth, and continued on without a care.
The man sighed in defeat, as blood trickled from his lip. "Take me to the back of the restaurant, please."
"You did it, old man!" the two boys shouted in unison.
Sanji entered the kitchen and immediately began planning what he was going to prepare. He needed something light but filling. His stomach probably wouldn't tolerate anything too heavy at that moment. The boy walked across the tiled kitchen floor to the pantry, ignoring all the commotion around him.
Two pairs of eyes watched Sanji enter through the food storage door. They glanced at each other before leaving the kitchen to check the restaurant entrance. When the door still didn't appear, they turned and headed straight for the pantry, arriving just as Sanji emerged carrying a bag of jasmine rice, tea leaves, various seasonings, spices, and a multitude of side dishes.
"Sanji!" Patty shouted. "Why on earth are you here if the door is still...?" She was interrupted when the blond chef's foot smacked her on the head for the second time that day.
Carne watched with wide eyes as his partner was kicked inside the pantry. A cloud of dust billowed from the doorway along with the sound of Patty hitting the back wall of the room.
Sanji turned around and stared at the other man.
Carne's head started to throb from the kick. He heard a creak in the pantry and paled. Maybe it was best to let Sanji do what he wanted... You know what?... Maybe he'd even fix the door... Yes, that was a good idea. He didn't like the look Sanji was giving him. Startled, the chef turned away and left his friend lying in the pantry. He'd look for him later. Right now, he had a door to fix.
Sanji scoffed at the man's departing figure and returned to the matter at hand. The chef had decided on the dish he would prepare. He would make green tea with rice. The green tea would be gentle on the man's hungry stomach, and the rice would be filling enough to satisfy him. The spices and seasonings would be simple, nothing too strong, since the green tea would do most of the work.
The blond chef was a blur as he danced around the kitchen, gathering his ingredients while simultaneously preparing and cooking the many facets of the dish. The kitchen was Sanji's domain. He knew where everything was at all times, whether he was looking or not. It was second nature. Everything he needed was always within reach because he made it so. He was the master of his kitchen.
The chef surveyed the dish he had created so far. It was almost finished, but something was still missing. He remembered seeing a nearly cleaned tuna on the counter as he entered, and an idea struck him. He took a frying pan and lightly greased it with olive oil, bringing it to the desired temperature. He could almost feel the flames from the stove grazing the base of the cast iron pan. Sanji was always good in the kitchen. He knew his flames were strong, but he never feared them. They felt like the flames that burned in his heart. The flames that fueled his love for cooking and his love for women.