Sanji never expected Lucas Moore to come looking for him.
That would have been surprising enough. But worse still, the guy ended up causing him to drop a plate...
Which pissed him off.
"Hey! What the hell was that?" Sanji snapped. "Thanks to you, I broke a plate!"
Lucas chuckled. "Did I personally break it?"
Sanji blinked, then muttered, "No…"
"Then what's it got to do with me?"
"Wha-?" Sanji realized he had no comeback and swallowed his frustration. "Damn it! Everyone just loves picking on me. Those lousy chefs do it, that grumpy old man does it, and now even you, an outsider, are in on it. One day, I swear, I'll make you all take me seriously!"
Just then, the kitchen door burst open. Patty stormed in from outside, fuming.
"A penniless bum dared to come eat at Baratie? What a clueless bastard!"
The busy chefs around him burst into laughter.
"Patty, did you throw him out the back door again?"
"Hahaha, classic Patty move."
Sanji, who had been washing dishes, froze when he heard that a broke man had just been thrown out back.
Lucas watched him calmly.
He knew Sanji too well. That guy would never ignore someone who was starving.
And sure enough-
Sanji sneaked a couple of bread rolls and a bottle of milk.
When he noticed Lucas watching, he quickly held a finger to his lips, signaling him to stay quiet.
Then, taking advantage of the others being distracted, he slipped out of the kitchen.
Lucas followed him from a distance.
Sanji headed for the rear deck.
There, lying on the deck in despair, was a man so emaciated he was practically skin and bones.
Without a word, Sanji set down the bread and milk beside him.
"Eat," he said, sitting down nearby and watching him.
The man weakly turned his head toward Sanji. With trembling hands, he picked up the food and began devouring it ravenously.
When he'd finished, tears welled up in his eyes as he looked at Sanji. "Thank you... Thank you so much. I really thought I was going to die out here."
Sanji gave him a crooked grin. "Feels pretty good to have something in your stomach, right?"
The man nodded, smiling. "Yeah. I never realized how lucky it is to just have something to eat. I don't even know how to thank you."
"No need to thank me. Food is nature's gift to all of us. Just promise me one thing. When your life gets better, don't waste it."
"I promise!"
"Good." Sanji gave a small nod and turned to head back.
As he ascended the spiral staircase
Lucas was leaning casually against the second-floor wall.
He watched Sanji pass by and said, "A hot meal would have been better than dry bread, don't you think?"
Sanji froze in his tracks.
That sentence hit him like a knife straight to the chest.
"What the hell do you know?!" he shouted. "Of course I want to cook for those who are starving. But my cooking sucks! That old fart won't teach me a damn thing, and I don't know what to do!"
Lucas let out a cold chuckle.
Sanji clenched his jaw. "You're laughing at me, aren't you? Who the hell are you to laugh at me?!"
"With talent like yours, why should Zeff teach you anything?"
"What did you say?!" Sanji trembled with fury. "You want to fight?!"
He lunged at Lucas and swung a punch.
Lucas easily sidestepped.
Sanji's fist slammed into the wooden wall behind him. He cursed under his breath, clutching his hand in pain.
Lucas looked at him like he was completely hopeless.
So the guy hadn't learned any legwork yet?
Still using his hands to fight?
A chef's hands were for cooking, not punching.
Great chefs fought with their legs.
Zeff did.
And one day, so would Sanji.
He just hadn't figured it out yet.
As Lucas stood there quietly judging him, a thought struck him.
Maybe this was the key to triggering the progress on his sign-in task.
With that in mind
Lucas asked, "Does your hand hurt?"
"No shit it hurts!" Sanji snapped.
Lucas smiled faintly. "Do you know why Zeff refuses to teach you how to cook?"
Sanji hesitated, then scoffed. "Like anyone knows what goes on in that old man's head. And you you're an outsider. Don't act like you know him."
"I do know."
"Huh?" Sanji looked at him in disbelief. "Don't be ridiculous. You barely even know the guy! How could you possibly understand him?"
"What's your dream?"
"Why are you even asking that?" Sanji muttered irritably. Still, he answered. "I want to surpass that stubborn old man. And after he kicks the bucket, I'll head out to find the All Blue."
The All Blue the legendary sea where all four oceans meet, a paradise where every kind of fish and ingredient exists. It was the ultimate dream of any chef.
Sanji's eyes sparkled as he spoke of it.
Lucas, unimpressed, replied with a simple, "Oh."
That single word snapped Sanji right out of his daydream.
"What kind of half-assed 'oh' was that?!"
"Someone who does nothing but whine and complain what right does he have to talk about dreams?"
"You bastard! You don't know a thing about me!" Sanji roared, swinging another punch.
This time, Lucas didn't dodge.
But Sanji's fist stopped just five centimeters from his face.
Lucas's mouth curled into a slight smirk. "A chef's hands are everything. What if you hurt them? Plan on cooking with your feet?"
Sanji froze.
Lucas stepped past him and began wandering through Baratie, getting a feel for the layout.
He'd said everything that needed to be said.
In his memory, Sanji was never a slow learner.
He'd get it soon enough.
Sanji stared at his own hands, then looked at Lucas's receding figure.
He couldn't help asking, "What were you trying to tell me just now?"
Lucas didn't even turn around. "Figure it out yourself."
Sanji stood there, stunned, eyes fixed on his hands again.
Old memories flashed through his mind.
Come to think of it... he'd never seen Zeff use his hands in a fight.
Whenever someone caused trouble or when he disciplined the kitchen staff, the old man always used his legs.
That's right!
A chef's hands were sacred.
How could he use them for fighting?
Sanji clenched his fists, determination flashing in his eyes. "It's decided. From now on, I'll never use my hands in a fight again!"
Then he began to reflect on the other things Lucas had said.
Whining and complaining. Not even trying. No right to talk about dreams...
Was that really who he was?
He had been working hard, hadn't he?
For months now, he'd been scrubbing dishes and cleaning the restaurant every single day…
Wait.
Hold on.
A sudden jolt shot through him.
Cold sweat beaded on his forehead.
"What the hell have I been doing these past few months?!"
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