To explain what had brought Mikhail to this particular island would take a story well beyond the one that follows the Going Merry.
It’s a story easily buried beneath easily-told half-truths and half-lies. No one bats an eye at a young man looking for work. He’s just one of thousands who’d gone through some vague misfortunes involving hunger, pirates, bandits, or all of the above. He’s nobody special, was nobody special, and that’s all anyone would and should know. He tells no one of the Torna Pirates, or how they were utterly wiped out in the Grand Line, or that his former crewmmates are nothing more than fish food now. He tells no one about how they… probably deserved their grisly deaths, for all the atrocities they’d committed against innocent civilians and not-so-innocent Marines. He doesn’t let himself grieve the people he thought were his family, instead focusing on the fact that he made it out alive and that that must mean something. Mikhail might have taken part in the cruelty, but he’s not like that anymore.
Or so he tells himself.
It’s easy to lie, and it’s also easy to throw himself into his work. The shipwrights in the yard demand exorbitant payment and are unwilling to work pro bono, and that's none of Mik's business. This, unfortunately, means the cute little caravel with the sheep figurehead sits untouched at the docks, her hull so poorly patched that it’s a wonder she’s even afloat.
Mikhail stands before it, admiring the shoddy patchwork.
“What fool thought using pine would be a good idea?” he remarks aloud.
The rest of the crew is off in the city proper, trying to swindle or earn their way into the exorbitant amount of funds for the Going Merry's repairs, but Luffy has been exiled to sit on the boat and don't cause mayhem duty after their last three stops in a row ended with fleeing marines or bounty hunters or other pirate crews that Luffy pissed off before anything could be done about the damage to the ship. Through no fault of his own, of course.
But Luffy is Luffy, and he grows bored pretty quickly when left with nothing to do but droop around the boat and try to keep himself entertained. When he spots Mikhail surveying the damage and making his judgments, he scrambles down to the docks at the glorious prospect of finally having some company after sooo long sitting up there bored.
"What's wrong with pine? It's all just trees, isn't it?" Mikhail has three guesses as to who thought pine was a good idea, but as long as he points to any member of Luffy's crew, he won't be wrong. Even Usopp—far and away the best repairman among them—was never apprenticed to any shipwright in the yards of Syrup Village, and couldn't actually lend much more expertise to the whole sorry affair than Luffy, whose ship that he built by hand... lasted less than one day and only a handful of waves much larger than a ripple before sinking to the bottom of the East Blue.
Usopp lends more common sense, at least, but that can only count for so much. Luffy squints up to the obvious, awkward looking patch job that he guesses Mikhail is admiring for a long moment before realizing he has no idea how Mikhail would know that, when he helped to gather the wood and even he couldn't have guessed what type they'd used. Oh, his person to latch onto senses are tingling. Cheerfully (danger, Will Robinson!): "How can you tell what it is?"
Just trees— ah, and that must be the fool that Mikhail was just hypothesizing about. He tilts his head, eyeing Luffy with a look somewhere between condescension and sympathy. Poor guy. It's (probably) not his fault he can't tell the difference between trees! Some are simply born with less tree-related wisdom than others.
Mikhail flashes three fingers. "Color. Grain. Rot. You see how the planks are already looking worn around the edges? That'd be the wear and tear from the sea. Maaaybe it's not the worst choice in the world if it's just a bandage, but whoever slapped this one on obviously had no idea what they were doing."
It's not his place to lecture a random stranger about marine engineering (without also demanding payment, like the other shipwrights), but he can't pass on an opportunity to indirectly brag about his own expertise. Laying low has been all well and good for moments of quiet self-reflection, but it's also... boring.
He had vowed to wash his hands clean of his old crimes, but surely there's nothing wrong with being a show-off.
Instead of being incensed by the lecture or the borderline condescending look, Luffy laughs and shrugs. Mikhail really hit the nail on the head there.
As Mikhail is listing the tells that he picked up on Luffy tries to see what he sees, but honestly it still all just looks like wood to him. Well, there's a reason he never wanted to be a shipwright: if he's fighting, he can figure it out. But everything else—navigating, or building things, or cooking anything more complex than meat over an open flame?—he's lost. That's why he's got a crew!
He eyes Mikhail again, curious. It's usually not hard for him to get a read on people, but that sort of thing can be a little more complex in isolation. Luffy stuffs his hands in his pockets and turns from the ship to just face his new best buddy.
"That explains the faces that everyone was making at the shipyard," he says blithely, as good as a confession. And here he'd been thinking they did pretty good! Luffy thinks plenty of things that aren't true, though. "Hey, you know a lot about this stuff? Why aren't you over there, too?" He indicates the shipyard where they'd been kicked out for being broke as hell with a jerk of his head in its general direction.
Oh, Mikhail could make a whole list of answers for that question. The other workers find him annoying (fair). They think he's a pompous asshole (also very fair). Mikhail isn't actually as good at the whole "pretending to be a normal civilian" thing as he thinks he is (not fair!).
All he does is shrug with a who knows? sort of cheerful nonchalance. "Don't feel like it!"
The workers don't like him. Well, that's fine. He doesn't like them either. Everyone's the same in that regard, and he hasn't been able to completely shake off that part of him that the Torna Pirates had instilled. He glances sidelong at Luffy without turning his head. That upbeat attitude is... actually a breath of fresh air after spending weeks with a bunch of surly shipwrights. He's actually sort of surprised that Luffy didn't snap back at the provocation. So, sure, he'll give a proper answer instead of dancing around it like he normally would.
"Why should I break my back for some jerk who's gonna reap the rewards for himself? You saw what they're charging. It's burglary!" Or piracy, he laughs to himself. "Nah, if I'm gonna do a job, I'd rather do it myself. It's better that way, anyway— less cooks in the kitchen, y'know? Or, should I say... crooks in the kitchen."
He laughs again, at his own joke, like the asshole the shipwrights had correctly deduced him to be.
Oh, no. Luffy immediately busts out laughing at the pun, because he is also just the worst (but maybe in the complete opposite direction.)
He doesn't have many thoughts about economics or fair labor distribution, himself, mostly because the closest thing he got to schooling was his Grandpa showing up to knock him sideways every now and again and calling it Marine training. That all sounds reasonable to him, though. Why work for other people when you can work for yourself? Pursue your own dreams, etc?
Luffy plants his fists on his hips, a very serious thinking posture. He regards the Merry and her shoddy patches for a moment, then Mikhail for another. The vibes coming off him aren't like crystal clear to Luffy yet, or anything, but this seems like one of those things that's happening for a reason. There's a guy who knows what none of his crew know, who just so happens to be out here alone and admiring his ship?
He doesn't believe in fate or anything. You can't be truly free if you're fated, if everything's decided, before you start. But he does believe in things working out a lot of the time if he lets them.
"You're funny! I like you." Three sentences in and apparently he's sold. "You should join my crew! You'd definitely be the only shipwright around." In case that wasn't abundantly clear already... "And we've got a cook! He's the best in the East Blue." Come for the free Michelin Star food every day if nothing else, Mikhail!! (Why yes, Luffy did recruit someone to make him food before bothering with someone who could actually keep him afloat on the ocean.)
Mikhail's smile doesn't quite slip away, but he does pause to give Luffy an odd look, both bemused and amused. It's the look of someone who doesn't quite know how to take that kind of straightforward enthusiasm at face value, but also can't process the idea that anyone could invite a complete stranger to his crew without any sort of hesitation. What kind of weirdo...
Unless... ah, it's another joke! That must be it. Mikhail sweeps his fingers through his hair and laughs again.
"Do I look that desperate for a gig? I'm not that easy to buy out. C'mon, you can make a better offer than that. How abouuut... hm, you got any beautiful babes on your crew?" He doubts any woman would be sailing on a ship that looks like it's about to fall apart, so he confidently snaps his fingers and follows up with: "If you do, I'll definitely join."
Congrats, Luffy: you've just met Sanji but a million times worse.
Luffy is about to reflexively say no (so sorry, Nami!!), because he doesn't really think about things like that, but then Mikhail makes his foolish declaration and Luffy suddenly finds himself actually thinking before blurting out literally whatever thoughts go rattling through the dusty corridor between his ears where his brain probably ought to be.
Come to think of it, hadn't Sanji been waxing poetic about stuff like that just this morning? (And, you know, every day since joining Luffy's crew?) "Sure! Nami is the most beautiful woman in the East Blue." So sorry again, Nami, for doubling up on The Daily Horrors solely because Luffy has approximately zero impulse control. And because he doesn't really clock that sort of thing even when it's literally right in front of his face, of course. "She's our Navigator. And she's really good at stealing." What? That's what had enamored him to her enough to pester into joining his crew, why wouldn't he brag about it to other people!
But he beams, triumphant, and sticks his hand out for Mikhail to shake on it now that he's sealed his own fate. "I'm Monkey D. Luffy!" Luffy is definitely supposed to be keeping a lower profile than shouting his full Government Bounty Name at poor schmucks on the pier who just wanted to make fun of his ship a little bit in peace, but it is what it is. And it is Mikhail's life now, so buckle up, pal. "Welcome to the Straw Hat Pirates."
Mikhail's mouth opens. Then closes. Then opens again. This time, he doesn't bother trying to hold his composure steady, his face completely crumbling into incredulity. Like. What? This guy's serious? Actually serious? And he's a pirate? Hell, Mikhail thought this caravel was just an odd merchant ship, because what sort of self-respecting pirate would—
Ah. The Straw Hat Pirates. Now Mik's feeling like the idiot here, not having made that immediate connection between Luffy's straw hat with the hat he'd seen among the latest round of bounty posters that were delivered to the island. He'd even eavesdropped on some of the shipwrights as they grumbled over the news of an upcoming rookie. How did he miss it? It's enough to wound his own ego, and to make him momentarily forget the mention of a beautiful thieving navigator (luckily for Nami. For now).
"You're... kidding me," he finally says, half his bravado gone. He stares at Luffy's offered hand without taking it. "Buddy, you don't even know who I am. How do you know you're not inviting a coldblooded killer onto your ship, huh?"
In spite of himself, he can't help slipping his own little private joke into his words. Mikhail may not have taken part in the slaughters, busy as he was with their ship's maintenance, but he definitely did nothing to stop his old crewmates from indiscriminately killing anyone they came across.
Luffy doesn't strike him as that type of pirate, but that somehow makes the invitation even more confusing and aggravating.
Luffy laughs, gleeful but not mocking, like he thinks they're both in on the joke. He lives for surprising people, and Mikhail looks like he's just had the rug yanked right out from under his feet.
"I have a good feeling about you!" So, he's an idiot. But also, they've already got a coldblooded killer onboard, and Zoro literally made a career hunting pirates before getting unceremoniously drafted onto Luffy's little funtime crew. Luffy isn't worried about it, even though he probably (definitely) should be. Eventually his tried and true tactic of bamboozling the hell out of everybody he wants to keep around him is going to stop working, isn't it?
That's a problem for another day, though. Luffy lets his hand drop, though his face makes it clear he hasn't clocked even a hint of awkwardness in being left hanging. Truly, he is impossible.
Then, because clearly they've settled the matter (they have definitely not done that), he turns back to the ship. Mik's new home, isn't it lovely? "So if we can't use pine, what should we use? Do you know what the rest of the ship is made out of?" It's a beautiful and expensive solid oak boat, even all the planking, which is part of the reason (along with general greediness) that they'd gotten such high estimates at the shipyard. The blessing and the curse of winning the favor of the extremely wealthy woman who gifted it to them. "And where do we get it if you don't work at the shipyard?"
If it were any other crew member of the Torna Pirates, they wouldn't think twice about taking advantage of Luffy's goodwill to steal whatever they can from the Going Merry. And try to kill everyone aboard. They very likely wouldn't have succeeded, but living or dying never mattered to them, which is exactly what had led to their complete annihilation. But the others didn't have what Mikhail now has: a conscience. He still doesn't listen to it all the time, but it's there.
If he spat in Luffy's face and walked away, what would have been the point of his survival?
Still, he's wary now. Monkey D. Luffy is either a deranged psycho, or a cheerful idiot. Considering that whopping bounty of thirty fuckin' million, Mikhail is currently more inclined to believe the former.
"A good feeling..." he repeats under his breath, shaking his head. This is either a strange turn of fortune or karma finally coming to bite him in the ass. The last time anyone ever used the word good in relation to Mikhail was when he was just a child.
Ah, well, it's not like he doesn't already have experience following deranged psychos around.
He sighs and shrugs, scanning the ship. She was definitely built by people who knew what they were doing, that's for sure. But that just makes the shoddy pine-patchwork that much more infuriating to see. How dare they subject such a beautiful vessel to low quality wood.
"Don't worry about the details," he says, flippantly waving a hand. "There's plenty of good stuff around here— I'll just... borrow whatever I need. Leave it to ol' Mikhail— that's me." If he's going to be a pirate again, might as well return to some of his old habits! "The other shipwrights won't mind! Or notice."
Hell yeah, that's what he's talking about!! Luffy whoops excitedly, and gives Mikhail a friendly whack on the shoulder with the back of his hand.
"It sounds like Nami will have competition!" It turns out he's just fine with stealing parts for the ship, even if he originally put up a fight against stealing the ship itself. Who knows why Luffy's smooth little brain works the way it does? "She'll be happy we can keep all the money they get today." Nami tends to worry about their finances, because they're not a crew that actually steals from people usually, so they haven't exactly been swimming in money.
(And there is the small fact that their Captain is a black hole for food.)
But not having to pay for their repairs is going to be a weight off her shoulders, so Mikhail will have that much going for him right out of the gate. And it might even last until he opens his mouth!
Luffy grins, bouncing on the balls of his feet. As much as he'd gotten his heart set on recruiting a Musician next, he's definitely glad he found a shipwright. For the Going Merry's sake, if nothing else. "Will you need help? I'm strong." Listen. He's really bored, Mik! (But do not take him up on the offer, Luffy is the world's least sneaky creature.)
There's no way he'd pass on the opportunity to see what a thirty-million-man can do. Besides, if (when) they get caught stealing supplies, it'd be a nice change of pace to not be the sole target of the shipwrights' ire. Mikhail is always one to make a scene whenever no one asked for a scene, but he gets a feeling that his own theatrics would pale in comparison to whatever Luffy can do.
"Sure, sure. Knock yourself out." With that, he swivels on his heel and starts meandering away from the water and toward the bustle of the shipyard in no real hurry. Everyone's too busy to give either of them a passing glance. For now, they can pass through unnoticed. For now.
"Hey, tell me more about this Nami. ... And the rest of the crew, I guess, if you want." But mostly Nami. Who will come to see that Sanji is, in comparison, the epitome of genteel chivalry when she hears the embarrassing garbage that comes out of Mikhail's mouth. "I used to run with a crew of my own, you know! We made a pretty big name for ourselves."
The Grand Line is weird and wonderful and everything Luffy hoped for. The weather is wild and so are the nights and none of them can predict what's going to happen next. It's so exciting.
Well. Mostly exciting. Sometimes it's a lot of waiting. It feels like Nami's Log Pose started acting strangely just as soon as they all got used to how it worked: for the past day and a half it had been pointing them directly to the tiny island where they almost ran aground in the middle of a sudden, dark and disorienting storm, before the needle jerked off to the north almost immediately after they dropped anchor (not nearly enough time for any log pose to reset itself and move on.) As if that hadn't been strange enough on its own, the needle swung around to point at the island they were already at again without even giving the crew enough time to assess the storm damage and set sail. An hour later (with only half the patch job on Merry's damaged yardarm finished) the dial was back to pointing north, then to the island, then north, and repeat. Almost like the island isn't supposed to be there, or isn't always there, or... none of them are sure, and the theories only get weirder and less based in observable reality as are given more time to marinate.
The island itself is tiny and nondescript, a sandy beach dusting the edges of green grass spilling into a dense forest of thick-trunked trees. There are no bird songs coming from the dark leaves and they don't see any animals running along the forest floor when they take turns peering into it with the one singular spyglass they all own. When Usopp drops their fishing line off the opposite side of the boat while they try to figure out what to do, he pulls up deep sea fish after deep sea fish, which shouldn't be anywhere near this close to land, according to Sanji. After considerable hemming and hawing and bickering and flirting, and dinner and nightfall and morning with no sign of the Log Pose changing behavior, Luffy's impulse control runs clean out.
Really, they should have known better than to let him man the spyglass for too long. As soon as the sunlight climbs over the tops of the trees and the forest floor emerges from total shadow, Luffy spots... legs. A figure walking. "Hey, hey guys! There's someone there! Someone's on the island!" Luffy comes alive after what he would swear if asked was hours—no, days—no, years of boredom, and he means to wait for everyone to run to the bow of the ship and look for themselves—really, he does!—but then suddenly those black shoes and shadowy figure turn away from the shore and start walking back to the treeline. "HEY WAIT!" he bellows, dropping the spyglass and winding his arms back. He can't see the man anymore without the telescope, but he knows in his heart of hearts that the man doesn't stop. "Wait, I said!" Apparently not one to take his own advice, Luffy throws his rubber arms across the sea and the beach and the grass to latch onto two trees, and over the harried screeching of his poor, beleaguered crew as they leap up from their various spots dispersed around the deck he shouts a chipper: "I'm just going to ask that guy a few questions!!" and launches himself onto the mystery island like he's been wanting to do for the past zillion hours and some change.
Luffy lands in the sun-warm sand with an oomph and the loud snap of his rubber limbs returning to their natural length, overcome as soon as he gets breath back into his lungs with a crowing, triumphant laugh. Finally!! An adventure! He doesn't even wait to see if his crew is following (or to notice that if he turns his head he won't see the Going Merry where it's anchored near the beach), he just stumbles to his feet and charges in the direction where he'd seen the man walking away and promptly almost bowls over—
He's lost, which is nothing short of absurd. He's no Nami—her lovely navigational skills are second to none—but he's even less like Zoro, who can't climb a flight of stairs without winding up on the other side of town. Yet here he is: tacky and curly-haired from the seawater dried over his body like a second skin, in waterlogged shoes with a damp suit jacket slung over his shoulder, scraped here and there from recent scuffles with the ninety-nine masters—completely and utterly lost.
Sure, he's a fast runner. Iva's zealous candies leave no room for him to be otherwise. But even he can't run that fast as to find himself on an entirely different island, no matter how many strides he'd taken underwater. It's worse than Zoro's track record, and the resultant vexation keeps the trepidation at bay when he finds himself coming upon the edge of the forest again.
The island is strange; therefore, it's suspect. He'd entered through the beach, and he recalls little of significance before he wandered into the forest with hiked shoulders. At a glance, nothing has changed. Sanji turns away to refocus on mapping out the forest, where he's less of a sitting duck, and manages a grand total of five steps before he's accosted by yet another loud voice that sets his nerves alight.
Gritting his teeth, he whirls around with his knee raised and leg folded, poised to kick out at the idiot bold enough to challenge his boundary. Then the face of his assailant comes into full view, and his jaw falls as he gapes, wide-eyed, at the straw hat and red vest in front of him.
Luffy immediately gives up on figuring out exactly how Sanji beat him here, because it doesn't make sense and thinking about it too hard makes his head hurt. Things just don't make sense to him sometimes!! And he's fine with that! Life wouldn't be exciting if he went through it knowing everything all the time. Or so he tells himself.
He also doesn't react to the inherent threat of Sanji's lifted leg when he turns around, because he's too busy staring as well, distracted and only managing to make an affirmative noise at the back of his throat to confirm that yep: he's Luffy.
Because that's definitely Sanji, but it's also... not.
He immediately crowds in closer, placing one hand on Sanji's knee to casually scooch it out of his way (bit rude), squinting openly at the little dusting of hair on his cook's chin where he's used to seeing it clean shaven, then up to the interesting little spiral at the end of his eyebrow, then—
Down and across the rest of him, the smattering of scrapes. Upon inspection, Luffy decides that he looks worse for wear, even outside of being so waterlogged, in a way that he definitely hadn't at breakfast less than an hour ago. "Did you get into a fight?" The petulant without me? is probably clear in Luffy's voice, and he stops just short of yanking the poor man's button down wide open so he can inspect the damage. He'll get to that in a minute if Sanji isn't careful (not that he'll really know what to do about it if there's anything more extensive than scrapes and bruises hidden by his clothes. They haven't picked up a doctor for their crew yet.) "Are you okay?"
Just a bit, yes. Despite this, Sanji's foot drops to the ground without protest. Far be it from him to expect manners from the likes of Luffy, the inner workings of whose mind still elude Sanji to this day. There's also something to be said about the flutter of relief that rises from his chest, though it arrests before it can bubble up into a proper cheer. He should be happy—a part of him undoubtedly is—but he can't shake the feeling that there's more than meets the eye.
For one, there's no fracas of which to speak around them, though he half-expects frills to jump out from the bushes at any second.
Focus.
Arching an eyebrow at the staring, Sanji opts to do some sizing up of his own. His eyes flit down the remarkably kempt state of the man before him, up the shaded hairline rimmed by thick curls, and back down to the curious gaze in never-ending motion. There's enough of a difference in their eye levels from his recollections that he questions whether he's grown a few inches or Luffy's actually shrunk. His right hand twitches at his side, and he finds himself craving a smoke as he dimly wonders how well Luffy's been eating.
His brow knits into a frown at the thought, but then his reservations are cut short by the nerve of Luffy, who's had to endure the losses of loved ones left and right since they were all forcibly parted, to ask after Sanji of all people.
(Aside the fact that his experiences in recent months have been utterly hellish, if still rewarding—)
"Never mind that!" He leans in, closing what little space remains between them, and jabs a finger at Luffy's chest. "What's going on?" he asks, all but demanding the answer with another press of his finger. "Why are you here? Putting aside the fact that it hasn't even been a year, this isn't where we agreed to meet up. How did you even reach this island? Answer all of that!"
Ironically, Luffy thinks that maybe Sanji has also shrunk. It's only a few inches, but considering that Luffy's recollection of him is much more fresh it feels obvious now that they're standing so close. He's Zoro-height! Oh, and Zoro-grumpy, apparently.
Luffy's rubber skin gives too easily beneath Sanji's accusatory finger, bending around it to form a little divot in the spot that he's getting poked, and Luffy looks down at the offending digit, surprised.
This is... not the reaction he'd expected. A little complaining about him leaping immediately instead of waiting for everyone else to join him first, sure. Maybe some concern about what would have happened if he'd fallen into the water between the ship and the shore (Sanji would have saved him, obviously!!) But he has no idea what Sanji is talking about now (a year? A year before they 'meet up?' Luffy refuses to even consider not seeing any of his crew for a year, least of all Sanji—) or why he's so worked up about it.
He blinks several times, face going through a few different versions of confused and a little offended that Sanji is acting like he shouldn't be here, and then worried because it's hard not to be when one of his crew deflects a question like are you okay?
"What do you mean how did I get here? You were—" He turns to point out their ship near the shoreline, where he's still sure they both just came from, which is when he finally realizes that the horizon is totally empty, and his eyes bug comically wide. "AH! Where's the Merry?!"
On second thought, it was a tall order to ask Luffy to answer so many questions at once. The one he does choose to answer is curious, though, and Sanji's head snaps up to follow the point past the foliage and the sand to . . . nothing. The shoreline looks the same as it did a minute ago, unlike Luffy and his myriad expressions that are just a little concerning.
Sanji shoves his hand in a pant pocket as he eyes the back of a familiar straw hat. "What are you talking about? The Merry is . . . " He trails off, deepening his scowl at the words in conflict with the dip of rubbery skin that had given easily to his prodding. He's manhandled Luffy enough in their time together to know what that feels like. A part of him considers taking a strategic step back while another part argues there isn't another rubber man in the Blue Sea. All the same, he elects to choose his next words carefully as he asks, "Are you saying the Merry brought you here?"
Because that's impossible. Suspect, even. Even taking Luffy's bewildering habits into account, there's far too much that doesn't add up.
This conversation is stretching even past Luffy's absurdly permissive attitude towards general weirdness, but that's less because of said weirdness and more because of Sanji's clearly mounting frustration with him. Whatever is going on, it's not his fault his time! He's pretty sure!! Even if in retrospect (and, admittedly, the whole time) he knew he shouldn't be jumping first and figuring the mystery out later. It's just that blind luck and a can-do attitude have gotten him so far in life, why switch tactics now?
Not that he's fine with his ship suddenly being gone, but he's mostly putting off reacting to that because he has himself convinced that they can just figure everything out if Sanji is on the same page with him. He can't if Sanji's mad at him. (Sorry, Sanji. Your alternate version has spoiled him quite a bit.) "The Merry brought us! How else would we get here?"
Sharing none of the same desire for caution, Luffy leans back in now that Sanji has put his pointing finger away, and reaches up to presses the back of his hand to the cook's forehead, trying to check his temperature. "Sanji, are you getting sick? Did someone hit your head? Why are you asking such weird questions?"
Here's the thing. If anyone was hit on the head, it was surely Luffy . . . except blunt damage has nothing on rubber. What's more, it's true that Sanji's been kicked across the temple once or twice. He's got a fading bruise or two under his hair to prove it. On the other hand, Luffy (of course) is the one clearly suffering from some form of memory loss.
Sanji would be more cautious about discussing the Merry if it were Nami or Usopp under this strange delusion. They'd taken care of the Merry the most, and the loss had hit them hard. Luffy hadn't taken it so well, either, but Luffy can handle more than most people through sheer force of will. It's a moot train of thought, though: Unlike a certain ex-warlord, Sanji isn't the type to offer information or utter unnecessary cruelties willy-nilly.
No, he's just the type who spurns the attention of men.
"I'm not sick," he says, moving to swat the hand away without real force. Does Luffy even remember what Sanji had divulged with the rest of them that time Nami had fallen gravely ill? He may run warm, but that's because he's a man of passion. "Remind me: what was our last adventure?"
He would ask for the island, but Luffy is hopeless with names. That's not something a bad memory can change for the better.
Luffy looks down at his hand after it gets swatted away, like he can't quite figure out why that happened. For once, his fingers aren't even sticky! (Not that having sticky fingers would have stopped him from doing it, but still.)
He's stuck on whether or not to ask about it, but then Sanji has another strange question for him, and at least Luffy knows the answer to it this time: "I just fought a whale!" So they literally just got to the Grand Line, Nami hasn't even gotten sick yet. Maybe it's not a great sign that first thing Luffy did was get separated from his ship and most of his crew on their inaugural stop, but Sanji's here with him so he's pretty sure he hasn't totally botched it.
Normally, he wouldn't feel like this was a botch at all, and he'd just set out to explore the place and have a little fun before finding a way back, but Sanji is worrying him. It's the visual differences he can't explain, the odd questions, the fact that he's clearly been in some sort of scuffle but he won't tell his Captain about it. Luffy's lips press together for a moment like he's thinking as hard as he can, and apparently in doing so he decides that Sanji didn't really mean to whack him away a moment ago, maybe he'd just pressed on something that hurt him and it was a reflex. This time when he reaches for Sanji's face again, he's more careful and he just uses his knuckles to brush the fall of blond hair away from the side of his cook's forehead, where he thought he'd seen the signs of bruising before getting rebuffed. "You did get hit!" he says, alarmed, when he reveals the fading bruise near Sanji's temple to the bright morning island sunlight.
A whale. His eyes dart to the left in thought. Laboon? Their most recent crewmate is Brook, and he's talking about meeting Laboon? That was ages ago! For goodness' sake, they were nearly out of Paradise before everything went so wrong.
It's also esoteric enough that not just anyone would know about their encounter with Laboon upon climbing Reverse Mountain. That gives further credence to the puzzling identity of the man before him, even as they're rapidly reaching a head in regards to how far they can take this impromptu game of cat and mouse.
And why does Luffy keep touching him like that?
Touching in and of itself is nothing special. Luffy is a tactile creature by nature, ever eager to loop his arms around his crew and paste himself to unsuspecting bodies. He puts his whole being into everything he does. In other words, the gentle touch doesn't suit his vivacious image, which is why Sanji's brow draws a little tighter at the tenderness of those knuckles against his hair before he releases the newfound tension with a blink. It's far too reminiscent of those fanciful wishes he entertains in solitude that paint the image of a dainty, affectionate hand reaching out with the promise of something soft, and the transposition is jarring enough that he reaches up to lay his hand over Luffy's wrist in order to coax it down.
Given everything else, this would be too dirty a trick for the likes of them to play on him. It's just misplaced concern on Luffy's end. Yeah. Must be.
"Yeah, because I've been training. Don't sound so alarmed," he says, coolly against the tingling awareness of the way his bang falls back down over his eye. It tickles, almost. It's strange, so he presses instead: "Seriously, you don't remember? We met that whale months ago."
Luffy's eyes bug out, and it's enough to distract him from being deflected again, though Sanji is going to have to move his hand first if he wants to stop touching because Luffy is absolutely not going to pull his wrist away on his own. "Months?! Is that why you've gotten shorter??" Why does Luffy think that's how that works??? Truly, who can say.
But it's Sanji, so obviously Luffy believes him, even if he definitely doesn't feel like he's missing any time. His clothes are the same as the ones he put on this morning, down to the little dribble of soy sauce he'd gotten on his favorite red vest at breakfast in his haste to inhale everything Sanji made for them. There's probably some sort of explanation for that, like maybe his cuddling up to Usopp has finally stopped being a foolproof way to get the sniper to help remove food stains from his clothes, which is pretty tragic. Or maybe he'd simply created identical messes months apart, which is tragic in its own way even if Luffy wouldn't be nearly as disappointed. Maybe—
It doesn't matter, because considering the absolutely ridiculous speed-run they'd collectively done through most of the East Blue's notorious pirates, Luffy wonders with mounting dismay just how many memories that means he's missing now. Months on the Grand Line, with his crew, having doubtlessly millions of exciting adventures (Luffy can't count.) All of that gone in the blink of an eye!
He droops like a deflating balloon, bemoaning: "all I remember is breakfast!" That's normal. "And making out a little!" Oop! Hopefully Sanji likes surprises.
Is that why he's gotten shorter? Just when he thinks Luffy can't possibly be that stupid, he's proven wrong. His stint on the rock may or may not have affected his growth, but he's taken care of his nutritional needs on the daily for years, and his spine's been fully recovered from the avalanche for some time now. To suggest he's somehow unraveled all of that and shrunken himself in the span of several months is absurd and, frankly, insulting.
But what does Luffy know! He's an idiot who can't gauge differences in height! Sure, Sanji had entertained similar thoughts earlier, but Luffy is made up of rubber whereas he isn't. The distinction is important—and one he's about to spit out in protest when the gears of his mind grind to a cacophonous halt at the next bombshell to drop all too casually.
Rendered speechless, Sanji stares wide-eyed at the deflated human balloon. Then he explodes from the shock, swinging his arm down and out in a wide arc that rips Luffy's hand away from his person as he exclaims in a shrill voice, "What?! With whom?!" Since when does Luffy make out with anyone?
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It’s a story easily buried beneath easily-told half-truths and half-lies. No one bats an eye at a young man looking for work. He’s just one of thousands who’d gone through some vague misfortunes involving hunger, pirates, bandits, or all of the above. He’s nobody special, was nobody special, and that’s all anyone would and should know. He tells no one of the Torna Pirates, or how they were utterly wiped out in the Grand Line, or that his former crewmmates are nothing more than fish food now. He tells no one about how they… probably deserved their grisly deaths, for all the atrocities they’d committed against innocent civilians and not-so-innocent Marines. He doesn’t let himself grieve the people he thought were his family, instead focusing on the fact that he made it out alive and that that must mean something. Mikhail might have taken part in the cruelty, but he’s not like that anymore.
Or so he tells himself.
It’s easy to lie, and it’s also easy to throw himself into his work. The shipwrights in the yard demand exorbitant payment and are unwilling to work pro bono, and that's none of Mik's business. This, unfortunately, means the cute little caravel with the sheep figurehead sits untouched at the docks, her hull so poorly patched that it’s a wonder she’s even afloat.
Mikhail stands before it, admiring the shoddy patchwork.
“What fool thought using pine would be a good idea?” he remarks aloud.
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But Luffy is Luffy, and he grows bored pretty quickly when left with nothing to do but droop around the boat and try to keep himself entertained. When he spots Mikhail surveying the damage and making his judgments, he scrambles down to the docks at the glorious prospect of finally having some company after sooo long sitting up there bored.
"What's wrong with pine? It's all just trees, isn't it?" Mikhail has three guesses as to who thought pine was a good idea, but as long as he points to any member of Luffy's crew, he won't be wrong. Even Usopp—far and away the best repairman among them—was never apprenticed to any shipwright in the yards of Syrup Village, and couldn't actually lend much more expertise to the whole sorry affair than Luffy, whose ship that he built by hand... lasted less than one day and only a handful of waves much larger than a ripple before sinking to the bottom of the East Blue.
Usopp lends more common sense, at least, but that can only count for so much. Luffy squints up to the obvious, awkward looking patch job that he guesses Mikhail is admiring for a long moment before realizing he has no idea how Mikhail would know that, when he helped to gather the wood and even he couldn't have guessed what type they'd used. Oh, his person to latch onto senses are tingling. Cheerfully (danger, Will Robinson!): "How can you tell what it is?"
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Mikhail flashes three fingers. "Color. Grain. Rot. You see how the planks are already looking worn around the edges? That'd be the wear and tear from the sea. Maaaybe it's not the worst choice in the world if it's just a bandage, but whoever slapped this one on obviously had no idea what they were doing."
It's not his place to lecture a random stranger about marine engineering (without also demanding payment, like the other shipwrights), but he can't pass on an opportunity to indirectly brag about his own expertise. Laying low has been all well and good for moments of quiet self-reflection, but it's also... boring.
He had vowed to wash his hands clean of his old crimes, but surely there's nothing wrong with being a show-off.
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As Mikhail is listing the tells that he picked up on Luffy tries to see what he sees, but honestly it still all just looks like wood to him. Well, there's a reason he never wanted to be a shipwright: if he's fighting, he can figure it out. But everything else—navigating, or building things, or cooking anything more complex than meat over an open flame?—he's lost. That's why he's got a crew!
He eyes Mikhail again, curious. It's usually not hard for him to get a read on people, but that sort of thing can be a little more complex in isolation. Luffy stuffs his hands in his pockets and turns from the ship to just face his new best buddy.
"That explains the faces that everyone was making at the shipyard," he says blithely, as good as a confession. And here he'd been thinking they did pretty good! Luffy thinks plenty of things that aren't true, though. "Hey, you know a lot about this stuff? Why aren't you over there, too?" He indicates the shipyard where they'd been kicked out for being broke as hell with a jerk of his head in its general direction.
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All he does is shrug with a who knows? sort of cheerful nonchalance. "Don't feel like it!"
The workers don't like him. Well, that's fine. He doesn't like them either. Everyone's the same in that regard, and he hasn't been able to completely shake off that part of him that the Torna Pirates had instilled. He glances sidelong at Luffy without turning his head. That upbeat attitude is... actually a breath of fresh air after spending weeks with a bunch of surly shipwrights. He's actually sort of surprised that Luffy didn't snap back at the provocation. So, sure, he'll give a proper answer instead of dancing around it like he normally would.
"Why should I break my back for some jerk who's gonna reap the rewards for himself? You saw what they're charging. It's burglary!" Or piracy, he laughs to himself. "Nah, if I'm gonna do a job, I'd rather do it myself. It's better that way, anyway— less cooks in the kitchen, y'know? Or, should I say... crooks in the kitchen."
He laughs again, at his own joke, like the asshole the shipwrights had correctly deduced him to be.
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He doesn't have many thoughts about economics or fair labor distribution, himself, mostly because the closest thing he got to schooling was his Grandpa showing up to knock him sideways every now and again and calling it Marine training. That all sounds reasonable to him, though. Why work for other people when you can work for yourself? Pursue your own dreams, etc?
Luffy plants his fists on his hips, a very serious thinking posture. He regards the Merry and her shoddy patches for a moment, then Mikhail for another. The vibes coming off him aren't like crystal clear to Luffy yet, or anything, but this seems like one of those things that's happening for a reason. There's a guy who knows what none of his crew know, who just so happens to be out here alone and admiring his ship?
He doesn't believe in fate or anything. You can't be truly free if you're fated, if everything's decided, before you start. But he does believe in things working out a lot of the time if he lets them.
"You're funny! I like you." Three sentences in and apparently he's sold. "You should join my crew! You'd definitely be the only shipwright around." In case that wasn't abundantly clear already... "And we've got a cook! He's the best in the East Blue." Come for the free Michelin Star food every day if nothing else, Mikhail!! (Why yes, Luffy did recruit someone to make him food before bothering with someone who could actually keep him afloat on the ocean.)
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Unless... ah, it's another joke! That must be it. Mikhail sweeps his fingers through his hair and laughs again.
"Do I look that desperate for a gig? I'm not that easy to buy out. C'mon, you can make a better offer than that. How abouuut... hm, you got any beautiful babes on your crew?" He doubts any woman would be sailing on a ship that looks like it's about to fall apart, so he confidently snaps his fingers and follows up with: "If you do, I'll definitely join."
Congrats, Luffy: you've just met Sanji but a million times worse.
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Come to think of it, hadn't Sanji been waxing poetic about stuff like that just this morning? (And, you know, every day since joining Luffy's crew?) "Sure! Nami is the most beautiful woman in the East Blue." So sorry again, Nami, for doubling up on The Daily Horrors solely because Luffy has approximately zero impulse control. And because he doesn't really clock that sort of thing even when it's literally right in front of his face, of course. "She's our Navigator. And she's really good at stealing." What? That's what had enamored him to her enough to pester into joining his crew, why wouldn't he brag about it to other people!
But he beams, triumphant, and sticks his hand out for Mikhail to shake on it now that he's sealed his own fate. "I'm Monkey D. Luffy!" Luffy is definitely supposed to be keeping a lower profile than shouting his full Government Bounty Name at poor schmucks on the pier who just wanted to make fun of his ship a little bit in peace, but it is what it is. And it is Mikhail's life now, so buckle up, pal. "Welcome to the Straw Hat Pirates."
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Ah. The Straw Hat Pirates. Now Mik's feeling like the idiot here, not having made that immediate connection between Luffy's straw hat with the hat he'd seen among the latest round of bounty posters that were delivered to the island. He'd even eavesdropped on some of the shipwrights as they grumbled over the news of an upcoming rookie. How did he miss it? It's enough to wound his own ego, and to make him momentarily forget the mention of a beautiful thieving navigator (luckily for Nami. For now).
"You're... kidding me," he finally says, half his bravado gone. He stares at Luffy's offered hand without taking it. "Buddy, you don't even know who I am. How do you know you're not inviting a coldblooded killer onto your ship, huh?"
In spite of himself, he can't help slipping his own little private joke into his words. Mikhail may not have taken part in the slaughters, busy as he was with their ship's maintenance, but he definitely did nothing to stop his old crewmates from indiscriminately killing anyone they came across.
Luffy doesn't strike him as that type of pirate, but that somehow makes the invitation even more confusing and aggravating.
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"I have a good feeling about you!" So, he's an idiot. But also, they've already got a coldblooded killer onboard, and Zoro literally made a career hunting pirates before getting unceremoniously drafted onto Luffy's little funtime crew. Luffy isn't worried about it, even though he probably (definitely) should be. Eventually his tried and true tactic of bamboozling the hell out of everybody he wants to keep around him is going to stop working, isn't it?
That's a problem for another day, though. Luffy lets his hand drop, though his face makes it clear he hasn't clocked even a hint of awkwardness in being left hanging. Truly, he is impossible.
Then, because clearly they've settled the matter (they have definitely not done that), he turns back to the ship. Mik's new home, isn't it lovely? "So if we can't use pine, what should we use? Do you know what the rest of the ship is made out of?" It's a beautiful and expensive solid oak boat, even all the planking, which is part of the reason (along with general greediness) that they'd gotten such high estimates at the shipyard. The blessing and the curse of winning the favor of the extremely wealthy woman who gifted it to them. "And where do we get it if you don't work at the shipyard?"
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If he spat in Luffy's face and walked away, what would have been the point of his survival?
Still, he's wary now. Monkey D. Luffy is either a deranged psycho, or a cheerful idiot. Considering that whopping bounty of thirty fuckin' million, Mikhail is currently more inclined to believe the former.
"A good feeling..." he repeats under his breath, shaking his head. This is either a strange turn of fortune or karma finally coming to bite him in the ass. The last time anyone ever used the word good in relation to Mikhail was when he was just a child.
Ah, well, it's not like he doesn't already have experience following deranged psychos around.
He sighs and shrugs, scanning the ship. She was definitely built by people who knew what they were doing, that's for sure. But that just makes the shoddy pine-patchwork that much more infuriating to see. How dare they subject such a beautiful vessel to low quality wood.
"Don't worry about the details," he says, flippantly waving a hand. "There's plenty of good stuff around here— I'll just... borrow whatever I need. Leave it to ol' Mikhail— that's me." If he's going to be a pirate again, might as well return to some of his old habits! "The other shipwrights won't mind! Or notice."
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"It sounds like Nami will have competition!" It turns out he's just fine with stealing parts for the ship, even if he originally put up a fight against stealing the ship itself. Who knows why Luffy's smooth little brain works the way it does? "She'll be happy we can keep all the money they get today." Nami tends to worry about their finances, because they're not a crew that actually steals from people usually, so they haven't exactly been swimming in money.
(And there is the small fact that their Captain is a black hole for food.)
But not having to pay for their repairs is going to be a weight off her shoulders, so Mikhail will have that much going for him right out of the gate. And it might even last until he opens his mouth!
Luffy grins, bouncing on the balls of his feet. As much as he'd gotten his heart set on recruiting a Musician next, he's definitely glad he found a shipwright. For the Going Merry's sake, if nothing else. "Will you need help? I'm strong." Listen. He's really bored, Mik! (But do not take him up on the offer, Luffy is the world's least sneaky creature.)
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"Sure, sure. Knock yourself out." With that, he swivels on his heel and starts meandering away from the water and toward the bustle of the shipyard in no real hurry. Everyone's too busy to give either of them a passing glance. For now, they can pass through unnoticed. For now.
"Hey, tell me more about this Nami. ... And the rest of the crew, I guess, if you want." But mostly Nami. Who will come to see that Sanji is, in comparison, the epitome of genteel chivalry when she hears the embarrassing garbage that comes out of Mikhail's mouth. "I used to run with a crew of my own, you know! We made a pretty big name for ourselves."
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sorry about how late this is!!
no worries!
♥
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@hgeegh
Well. Mostly exciting. Sometimes it's a lot of waiting. It feels like Nami's Log Pose started acting strangely just as soon as they all got used to how it worked: for the past day and a half it had been pointing them directly to the tiny island where they almost ran aground in the middle of a sudden, dark and disorienting storm, before the needle jerked off to the north almost immediately after they dropped anchor (not nearly enough time for any log pose to reset itself and move on.) As if that hadn't been strange enough on its own, the needle swung around to point at the island they were already at again without even giving the crew enough time to assess the storm damage and set sail. An hour later (with only half the patch job on Merry's damaged yardarm finished) the dial was back to pointing north, then to the island, then north, and repeat. Almost like the island isn't supposed to be there, or isn't always there, or... none of them are sure, and the theories only get weirder and less based in observable reality as are given more time to marinate.
The island itself is tiny and nondescript, a sandy beach dusting the edges of green grass spilling into a dense forest of thick-trunked trees. There are no bird songs coming from the dark leaves and they don't see any animals running along the forest floor when they take turns peering into it with the one singular spyglass they all own. When Usopp drops their fishing line off the opposite side of the boat while they try to figure out what to do, he pulls up deep sea fish after deep sea fish, which shouldn't be anywhere near this close to land, according to Sanji. After considerable hemming and hawing and bickering and flirting, and dinner and nightfall and morning with no sign of the Log Pose changing behavior, Luffy's impulse control runs clean out.
Really, they should have known better than to let him man the spyglass for too long. As soon as the sunlight climbs over the tops of the trees and the forest floor emerges from total shadow, Luffy spots... legs. A figure walking. "Hey, hey guys! There's someone there! Someone's on the island!" Luffy comes alive after what he would swear if asked was hours—no, days—no, years of boredom, and he means to wait for everyone to run to the bow of the ship and look for themselves—really, he does!—but then suddenly those black shoes and shadowy figure turn away from the shore and start walking back to the treeline. "HEY WAIT!" he bellows, dropping the spyglass and winding his arms back. He can't see the man anymore without the telescope, but he knows in his heart of hearts that the man doesn't stop. "Wait, I said!" Apparently not one to take his own advice, Luffy throws his rubber arms across the sea and the beach and the grass to latch onto two trees, and over the harried screeching of his poor, beleaguered crew as they leap up from their various spots dispersed around the deck he shouts a chipper: "I'm just going to ask that guy a few questions!!" and launches himself onto the mystery island like he's been wanting to do for the past zillion hours and some change.
Luffy lands in the sun-warm sand with an oomph and the loud snap of his rubber limbs returning to their natural length, overcome as soon as he gets breath back into his lungs with a crowing, triumphant laugh. Finally!! An adventure! He doesn't even wait to see if his crew is following (or to notice that if he turns his head he won't see the Going Merry where it's anchored near the beach), he just stumbles to his feet and charges in the direction where he'd seen the man walking away and promptly almost bowls over—
"Eh— Sanji?! How'd you get here faster than me?"
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He's lost, which is nothing short of absurd. He's no Nami—her lovely navigational skills are second to none—but he's even less like Zoro, who can't climb a flight of stairs without winding up on the other side of town. Yet here he is: tacky and curly-haired from the seawater dried over his body like a second skin, in waterlogged shoes with a damp suit jacket slung over his shoulder, scraped here and there from recent scuffles with the ninety-nine masters—completely and utterly lost.
Sure, he's a fast runner. Iva's zealous candies leave no room for him to be otherwise. But even he can't run that fast as to find himself on an entirely different island, no matter how many strides he'd taken underwater. It's worse than Zoro's track record, and the resultant vexation keeps the trepidation at bay when he finds himself coming upon the edge of the forest again.
The island is strange; therefore, it's suspect. He'd entered through the beach, and he recalls little of significance before he wandered into the forest with hiked shoulders. At a glance, nothing has changed. Sanji turns away to refocus on mapping out the forest, where he's less of a sitting duck, and manages a grand total of five steps before he's accosted by yet another loud voice that sets his nerves alight.
Gritting his teeth, he whirls around with his knee raised and leg folded, poised to kick out at the idiot bold enough to challenge his boundary. Then the face of his assailant comes into full view, and his jaw falls as he gapes, wide-eyed, at the straw hat and red vest in front of him.
"Luffy?!"
. . . Since when does Luffy curl his hair?
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He also doesn't react to the inherent threat of Sanji's lifted leg when he turns around, because he's too busy staring as well, distracted and only managing to make an affirmative noise at the back of his throat to confirm that yep: he's Luffy.
Because that's definitely Sanji, but it's also... not.
He immediately crowds in closer, placing one hand on Sanji's knee to casually scooch it out of his way (bit rude), squinting openly at the little dusting of hair on his cook's chin where he's used to seeing it clean shaven, then up to the interesting little spiral at the end of his eyebrow, then—
Down and across the rest of him, the smattering of scrapes. Upon inspection, Luffy decides that he looks worse for wear, even outside of being so waterlogged, in a way that he definitely hadn't at breakfast less than an hour ago. "Did you get into a fight?" The petulant without me? is probably clear in Luffy's voice, and he stops just short of yanking the poor man's button down wide open so he can inspect the damage. He'll get to that in a minute if Sanji isn't careful (not that he'll really know what to do about it if there's anything more extensive than scrapes and bruises hidden by his clothes. They haven't picked up a doctor for their crew yet.) "Are you okay?"
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For one, there's no fracas of which to speak around them, though he half-expects frills to jump out from the bushes at any second.
Focus.
Arching an eyebrow at the staring, Sanji opts to do some sizing up of his own. His eyes flit down the remarkably kempt state of the man before him, up the shaded hairline rimmed by thick curls, and back down to the curious gaze in never-ending motion. There's enough of a difference in their eye levels from his recollections that he questions whether he's grown a few inches or Luffy's actually shrunk. His right hand twitches at his side, and he finds himself craving a smoke as he dimly wonders how well Luffy's been eating.
His brow knits into a frown at the thought, but then his reservations are cut short by the nerve of Luffy, who's had to endure the losses of loved ones left and right since they were all forcibly parted, to ask after Sanji of all people.
(Aside the fact that his experiences in recent months have been utterly hellish, if still rewarding—)
"Never mind that!" He leans in, closing what little space remains between them, and jabs a finger at Luffy's chest. "What's going on?" he asks, all but demanding the answer with another press of his finger. "Why are you here? Putting aside the fact that it hasn't even been a year, this isn't where we agreed to meet up. How did you even reach this island? Answer all of that!"
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Luffy's rubber skin gives too easily beneath Sanji's accusatory finger, bending around it to form a little divot in the spot that he's getting poked, and Luffy looks down at the offending digit, surprised.
This is... not the reaction he'd expected. A little complaining about him leaping immediately instead of waiting for everyone else to join him first, sure. Maybe some concern about what would have happened if he'd fallen into the water between the ship and the shore (Sanji would have saved him, obviously!!) But he has no idea what Sanji is talking about now (a year? A year before they 'meet up?' Luffy refuses to even consider not seeing any of his crew for a year, least of all Sanji—) or why he's so worked up about it.
He blinks several times, face going through a few different versions of confused and a little offended that Sanji is acting like he shouldn't be here, and then worried because it's hard not to be when one of his crew deflects a question like are you okay?
"What do you mean how did I get here? You were—" He turns to point out their ship near the shoreline, where he's still sure they both just came from, which is when he finally realizes that the horizon is totally empty, and his eyes bug comically wide. "AH! Where's the Merry?!"
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Sanji shoves his hand in a pant pocket as he eyes the back of a familiar straw hat. "What are you talking about? The Merry is . . . " He trails off, deepening his scowl at the words in conflict with the dip of rubbery skin that had given easily to his prodding. He's manhandled Luffy enough in their time together to know what that feels like. A part of him considers taking a strategic step back while another part argues there isn't another rubber man in the Blue Sea. All the same, he elects to choose his next words carefully as he asks, "Are you saying the Merry brought you here?"
Because that's impossible. Suspect, even. Even taking Luffy's bewildering habits into account, there's far too much that doesn't add up.
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Not that he's fine with his ship suddenly being gone, but he's mostly putting off reacting to that because he has himself convinced that they can just figure everything out if Sanji is on the same page with him. He can't if Sanji's mad at him. (Sorry, Sanji. Your alternate version has spoiled him quite a bit.) "The Merry brought us! How else would we get here?"
Sharing none of the same desire for caution, Luffy leans back in now that Sanji has put his pointing finger away, and reaches up to presses the back of his hand to the cook's forehead, trying to check his temperature. "Sanji, are you getting sick? Did someone hit your head? Why are you asking such weird questions?"
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Sanji would be more cautious about discussing the Merry if it were Nami or Usopp under this strange delusion. They'd taken care of the Merry the most, and the loss had hit them hard. Luffy hadn't taken it so well, either, but Luffy can handle more than most people through sheer force of will. It's a moot train of thought, though: Unlike a certain ex-warlord, Sanji isn't the type to offer information or utter unnecessary cruelties willy-nilly.
No, he's just the type who spurns the attention of men.
"I'm not sick," he says, moving to swat the hand away without real force. Does Luffy even remember what Sanji had divulged with the rest of them that time Nami had fallen gravely ill? He may run warm, but that's because he's a man of passion. "Remind me: what was our last adventure?"
He would ask for the island, but Luffy is hopeless with names. That's not something a bad memory can change for the better.
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He's stuck on whether or not to ask about it, but then Sanji has another strange question for him, and at least Luffy knows the answer to it this time: "I just fought a whale!" So they literally just got to the Grand Line, Nami hasn't even gotten sick yet. Maybe it's not a great sign that first thing Luffy did was get separated from his ship and most of his crew on their inaugural stop, but Sanji's here with him so he's pretty sure he hasn't totally botched it.
Normally, he wouldn't feel like this was a botch at all, and he'd just set out to explore the place and have a little fun before finding a way back, but Sanji is worrying him. It's the visual differences he can't explain, the odd questions, the fact that he's clearly been in some sort of scuffle but he won't tell his Captain about it. Luffy's lips press together for a moment like he's thinking as hard as he can, and apparently in doing so he decides that Sanji didn't really mean to whack him away a moment ago, maybe he'd just pressed on something that hurt him and it was a reflex. This time when he reaches for Sanji's face again, he's more careful and he just uses his knuckles to brush the fall of blond hair away from the side of his cook's forehead, where he thought he'd seen the signs of bruising before getting rebuffed. "You did get hit!" he says, alarmed, when he reveals the fading bruise near Sanji's temple to the bright morning island sunlight.
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It's also esoteric enough that not just anyone would know about their encounter with Laboon upon climbing Reverse Mountain. That gives further credence to the puzzling identity of the man before him, even as they're rapidly reaching a head in regards to how far they can take this impromptu game of cat and mouse.
And why does Luffy keep touching him like that?
Touching in and of itself is nothing special. Luffy is a tactile creature by nature, ever eager to loop his arms around his crew and paste himself to unsuspecting bodies. He puts his whole being into everything he does. In other words, the gentle touch doesn't suit his vivacious image, which is why Sanji's brow draws a little tighter at the tenderness of those knuckles against his hair before he releases the newfound tension with a blink. It's far too reminiscent of those fanciful wishes he entertains in solitude that paint the image of a dainty, affectionate hand reaching out with the promise of something soft, and the transposition is jarring enough that he reaches up to lay his hand over Luffy's wrist in order to coax it down.
Given everything else, this would be too dirty a trick for the likes of them to play on him. It's just misplaced concern on Luffy's end. Yeah. Must be.
"Yeah, because I've been training. Don't sound so alarmed," he says, coolly against the tingling awareness of the way his bang falls back down over his eye. It tickles, almost. It's strange, so he presses instead: "Seriously, you don't remember? We met that whale months ago."
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But it's Sanji, so obviously Luffy believes him, even if he definitely doesn't feel like he's missing any time. His clothes are the same as the ones he put on this morning, down to the little dribble of soy sauce he'd gotten on his favorite red vest at breakfast in his haste to inhale everything Sanji made for them. There's probably some sort of explanation for that, like maybe his cuddling up to Usopp has finally stopped being a foolproof way to get the sniper to help remove food stains from his clothes, which is pretty tragic. Or maybe he'd simply created identical messes months apart, which is tragic in its own way even if Luffy wouldn't be nearly as disappointed. Maybe—
It doesn't matter, because considering the absolutely ridiculous speed-run they'd collectively done through most of the East Blue's notorious pirates, Luffy wonders with mounting dismay just how many memories that means he's missing now. Months on the Grand Line, with his crew, having doubtlessly millions of exciting adventures (Luffy can't count.) All of that gone in the blink of an eye!
He droops like a deflating balloon, bemoaning: "all I remember is breakfast!" That's normal. "And making out a little!" Oop! Hopefully Sanji likes surprises.
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Is that why he's gotten shorter? Just when he thinks Luffy can't possibly be that stupid, he's proven wrong. His stint on the rock may or may not have affected his growth, but he's taken care of his nutritional needs on the daily for years, and his spine's been fully recovered from the avalanche for some time now. To suggest he's somehow unraveled all of that and shrunken himself in the span of several months is absurd and, frankly, insulting.
But what does Luffy know! He's an idiot who can't gauge differences in height! Sure, Sanji had entertained similar thoughts earlier, but Luffy is made up of rubber whereas he isn't. The distinction is important—and one he's about to spit out in protest when the gears of his mind grind to a cacophonous halt at the next bombshell to drop all too casually.
Rendered speechless, Sanji stares wide-eyed at the deflated human balloon. Then he explodes from the shock, swinging his arm down and out in a wide arc that rips Luffy's hand away from his person as he exclaims in a shrill voice, "What?! With whom?!" Since when does Luffy make out with anyone?
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sorry this is so late!! got real busy
all good! take your time, and welcome back. ♥
thank you ♥!!
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