Random Mention: For anyone reading this that keep up with my other fanfics, updates are coming soon, I promise. Life's just been really hectic, and I apologize from the bottom of my heart.

A/N:

Chidsengan: Hi, everyone!

Wow, it's been a long time since I've updated this fanfic. I mean a loooooong time. So long I bet anyone and everyone who first read and reviewed gave up on it... and, if they haven't already and are here for take two, than, firstly, let me just thank you from the bottom of my heart, and secondly, please allow me to explain why it took me so long to update...

It's not that I started the fanfic and simply grew bored/decided to quit/and/or/had more interesting fic ideas to focus on. Nope. Nothing like that. In all honesty, my love for "Salvageant" is just as strong, and has been as strong, as it first was when the idea first came to me.

So why has it taken me so long to post a new chappie?

Well, a variety of things, really, from family issues to the USB I used specifically for fanfic purposes breaking because of "manufacturer defects". And, thanks to said problems, I've not only been behind on this fanfic, but my others, as well; having to rewrite everything in between the emotional and mental stress of my domestic life (my mom isn't the most stable person, let's just put it that way...). And that's only part of it...

Regardless, I refuse to use these reasons as excuses. Once one posts a fanfic on this site, it's the same as giving someone your word. It's your responsibility to see it through, and your responsibility to show gratitude to those who read and/or reviewed. So, because of that, I want to apologize. No matter what was going on in my life, it shouldn't have hindered me from posting in a timely fashion, and I'm incredibly sorry.

However, now I'm back, and plan on devoting my entire being to this project. Granted, it may not be the best fanfic out there (it's probably actually the most pathetic one, really), but nonetheless, I can't just let something I love, something that others far better at writing than myself took time to read and review, fall to the wayside. So even if it takes me a couple years, I'm determined to write this fanfic.

... and I'm rambling too much, aren't I? Sorry about that. Honestly, sometimes I'm a bit far more passionate about writing than I maybe should be... ^_^"

Anyway, onto thanking the tremendous readers who reviewed this fanfic. Even if they've given up on it over the last year or two, I still want to give a huge thank you to:

StarPurpleandBlue

Anne

zabani-chan

Night Sapphire

LuxoCharaDesign

LostInMind93

WinglessCrows

Also, speaking of WinglessCrows, I'd like to give a huge shout-out to her, whom this chappie is dedicated to! Thank you for inspiring me, and for giving me the strength I needed to start writing again! And if you haven't checked out her fanfics... please go read them instead, because they're way better than this one! And before you ask if that was a shameless plug... yes, yes it was ^_^

Zoro: *randomly appears* Why did you give her the strength, WinglessCrows?! She's a terrible writer!

Sanji: *also randomly appears* How dare you insult a wonderful young lady like Chidsengan, you stupid mosshead!

*the two start fighting*

Chidsengan: *oblivious to everything* Also, I do not own One Piece. Eiichiro Oda does. Which is great, because, If I did, it wouldn't be nearly as awesome as it is, and the characters would mutiny against me because I'd make their lives living heck without even trying...

Sanji: I'd never mutiny against you, mademoiselle!

Zoro: *unsheathes sword* I would.

Me: *ignores them both* Although Oda Sensei and I both agree that having a "Year of Sanji" is an excellent idea, so I'm planning on celebrating it the best I can! ^_^

Zoro: Hey, are you even listening to me?!

Me: Nope! ^_^

Zoro: *twitching* ... why you little...

Me: Anyway, with all that being said, let's start the chappie! Please enjoy and I'm sorry it's so pathetically written!

Sanji: As if a flower as beautiful as yourself could write anything but pure bliss!

Zoro: You do realize your life sucks in this fanfic, right?

Sanji: Pure bliss nonetheless!

Zoro: *facepalms*

Me: ^_^" ...

Note #1: There are some things in this chappie marked with asterisks, which will be explained at the end :)

Note #2: This fanfic will have spoilers for those who only keep up with the anime. Though I'm 99% sure there aren't any in this specific chappie, you've still been warned XD

Note #3: Ace lives! (yes, that's considered a selling point now XD)

And... Note #4: Since it's been so long, a lot of those who first read this fanfic years ago (assuming they're actually still interested...) might've forgotten what happened since the prologue, so I figured I would put a little excerpt of the prior post before the actual chappie just to remind everyone what happened; though I do suggest reading the prologue in full, just to have a clearer picture of the fanfic going in (again, assuming anyone actually wants to read this fanfic after witnessing my horrific writing skills). So, with that being said, here's a brief recap of what happened:

At the end of the day, Sanji was left with nothing. Even his job and his old apartment were things he could no longer go back to.

The man who had raised him, a chef named Zeff, had owned the restaurant where he'd worked, and the two had lived together. After Sanji had married Violet, however, Zeff had moved out of the small town they lived in to expand his business prospects in the city; taking the employees of his restaurant with him and shutting the small place he had down. Thinking back, it pained Sanji how he'd turned down the offer to go with them all, in favor of starting a life with Violet.

And two months later, before his seventeenth birthday, without a job and any friends or family to borrow from but with plenty of cash cows to pay back, Sanji had spent his first night sleeping on a park bench.

That had been two years ago.

Now, two years later, he was alone in a damp alleyway; staring at the raindrops as the fell from the dark, black clouds above as he tried his best to avoid them beneath the small slab of cradboard he was huddled under.

Two years since he'd last had a roof over his head.

Two years since he'd last had shoes without holes in them.

Two years since he'd last had a decent meal.

Two years since... so many things.

Two years since he'd had so much...

... and two years since he'd lost everything.

Not a single day in those two years had he not thought of what had happened, but the memories always seemed to haunt him more every time it rained, for some reason; and that particular rainy day, those memories were weighing so heavily on his shoulders that it felt as if the claws of death were scraping him for everything they were worth.

Then again, maybe he really was dying. He had, after all acquired a nagging cough quite sometime back. Or maybe sleeping in alleys in the biting cold was catching up to him. Then again, it could've been that eating from garbage bins had finally taking it's toll... who could really say?

Huddling under the sopping-wet cardboard he was holding all the more, he desperately tried to keep his teeth from chattering as those dreaded memories kept playing through his mind.

How things had gotten as terrible as they were, how he had sunk into such a predicament... they constantly prevaded his thoughts each day, though the details became foggier as time went on.

But no matter how foggy things became, no matter what the details were, he would always remeber how three factors had played a role in his downfall more than anything else.

The first had been Violet... a woman.

The second had been his love for her.

The third had been himself.

Women.

Love.

Himself.

A trio that had ammounted something worse than he could've ever imagined; the three things he considered the source of all his suffering.

Oh, how he hated them all.

Chapter One: When a Candy Bar Costs More Than Your Soul

Loguetown was a bustling city located in the northern parts of the East Blue, one of the four great seas in the world.

Though relatively small in size and young in history, it had secured it's mention in maps due to it's unprecedented business tactics; ways that had turned a few, unknown kiosks into a booming marketplace overflowing with foods, drinks, and items from all over the Earth.

More recently, however, Loguetown had won world-wide fame for more than just the way they handled business.

Twenty years ago, Loguetown had become infamous as the birth and final resting place of a man who'd turned the world on its head... a man named Gol D. Roger.

Gol D. Roger had been famed in life, but had become legendary in death; not for who he'd been, but because of the things he'd done.

Things that had made him indispensable to both the rich and the poor (though for two completely different reasons).

Everyone knew the story; the story of a man who'd had everything, yet had abandoned it all for something greater than himself.

Gol D. Roger had been born to Loguetown's wealthiest family; the only heir at a time where the city seemed to be on the brink of financial catastrophe; a time where poverty was rampant and starvation was common.

Gol D. Roger, however, had been raised in an environment as far away from that as possible.

As the family's only child, he was surrounded by vast riches and multiple servants; being groomed in the properest of ways in order to succeed his dad one day as the scion of his family; ignorant to the the suffering of the others around him.

But from a young age, it was clear that Gol D. Roger was different from those in similar places of standing. From a young age, it was said he'd viewed life in a different way than most aristocrats, and that he'd been able to hear the "voices" of the Earth and all living things*, giving him a deeper understanding of the world around him without once having to step foot outside his manor.

So as surprising as it was for Loguetown when news reached their ears that not only had the sole heir to their richest family renounced his wealth and position, but had turned it down in favor of traveling the four seas and seeing humanity in a different light, it wasn't something that particularly disturbed the citizens. After all, they'd all heard whispers and rumors about the "strange boy who heard voices" and "the odd child that didn't behave like an heir". Thus, leaving Loguetown to traverse the universe didn't seem all that ground-shattering to the people, but it did present a lot of pondering. The rich were bewildered, the middle class were intrigued, and the poor were amused. Just what could the boy have been thinking, and just what would become of him?

Their answer arrived years later, in the form of a heist.

It had been a cloudy night, rainy and dismal, and those who were fortunate enough to have a place to call home were settled cozily in their houses, while those less fortunate were huddled under whatever shelter they could find.

It was just past 10:00 when a remarkably loud peal of thunder had sounded above Loguetown, followed by a jagged streak of lightning striking the street which divided the wealthy part of town from impoverished.

Then, immediately after, something happened that the every citizen of Loguetown, no matter what their standing, would never forget.

The poor called it a Miracle.

The rich called it a travesty.

The middle class called it incredible.

For out of the sky, amidst the rain and the wind, fell hundreds of riches. Gems, coins, bags stuffed full with money... each taken from none other than Gol D. Roger's family. It was unlike anything the world had ever witnessed, and unlike anything the world ever would again.

Or so they thought.

A week later, Loguetown was showered in gifts in the form of jewelry; the next week, in fine linens and clothing; the week after that, in food and drinks that only the wealthy would dine on. And each time, those of wealth, not just the Gol family were angered, as what they owned was taken from them, too, in order to be scattered across the land.

Soon, word of the phenomenon made it's way from Loguetown to neighboring towns, and from the towns it reached the ears of cities, and from cities nations. It wasn't long before news of the phenomenon made it's way around the world, and an even shorter time for others to do the same.

The Earth was on notice, and, for the first time in their lives, they were afraid.

The balance between wealth and power and destitution and helplessness was tipping, and the lines between the rich and poor were blurred. It was something that those who were charged with keeping "order" and "justice" had to straighten out, otherwise, the world as it had always been would never be as it was before (which was to say, the snooty world nobles and the like wouldn't be able to live their lives above others).

Someone needed to be blamed. Someone needed to account for what had been done. Someone had to pay.

And in the end, the person who did was none other than Gol D. Roger, under "concrete evidence" discovered by the high-and-mighty World Government (though they'd conveniently never shared the so-called evidence with the public).

So Gol D. Roger, favorite son of Loguetown, was imprisoned, guilty of high-scale theft; the supposed "mastermind" of a string of "crimes"; the "King of the Pirates"*, as they called him.

In a normal circumstance, the crime would have been punishable by years in jail or, at the very most, life in prison.

But, this time, the World Nobles, descendants of the nineteen families* responsible for the building of some of the most powerful nations in the world, had been the ones robbed from.

And the World Nobles, already not known for their mercy, demanded blood. They demanded Gol D. Roger be executed.

The World Government complied.

So twenty years ago, Gol D. Roger had been led to a platform built in the middle of town to be publicly executed; to be made an example of, in front of the entire world, under charges for crimes that most people didn't even believe him guilty of.

It had been a surreal sight for all in attendance that day; not only had public executions been banned a considerable time ago, but to execute someone who'd hardly even had what could be considered a "fair trial" was enough to send a chill down even the most callous of people's spines.

However, even that feeling of dazed stupor, that pervading sense of knowing you were watching something that could change the world, were nothing compared to the emotions that followed when Gol D. Roger spoke his final words.

"It's true that I'm guilty of the crimes you say I am," he'd stated. "But in a world trapped in it's own twisted sense of order, I couldn't just stand by and do nothing! Was what I did wrong? Perhaps. But I have no regrets! I would do it all over again, if need be! Because, if it's for the sake of the people, for the sake of freedom, I would do all that and more!"

At that moment, it was said that the crowd had erupted into chaos, both cheers from the poor and middle class and horrified gasps from the rich, and the city officials had tried their best to hurry the executioners.

But still, Gol D. Roger had continued; claiming the truth, and foreshadowing what was to come.

"The world we live in is one that caters to those who need no catering, and neglects those who deserve attention!" he'd said. "And it will only become worse as time wears on! That's why, though I knew my actions would have consequences, I decided that, even if for one, brief moment, I would do something that would turn the world on its head! Something that would give back to those who've been deprived of what they deserve for far too long!"

And it was then, as the sun glared down upon the figure of the King of the Pirates and the executioners went to bring down their brand of justice upon him, that Gol D. Roger smiled.

"I won't die," he'd declared. "Because you can't kill a man who still has so much left on this Earth. And as for me, I've left all my treasure in one place. You just have to find it,"

Then, in a chorus of shocked screams and flustered whispers, Gol D. Roger left the world.

It was something that only a few had witnessed, but all had heard about.

And immediately after, a search for this supposed treasure had begun.

Those of all classes, from the richest of World Nobles to the lowest living on the street, had spread out to look for the treasure Gol D. Roger had left behind... only to come up short each and every time.

Meanwhile, however, as many pursued the discovery of fortune, Gol D. Roger's other prediction had come to light.

Ever since that day, the world had slowly begun to shift, and, true to his word, it had shifted in favor of those who had more than enough, and the select few who'd been given the power to do so.

Twenty years after Gol D. Roger's death, the world wasn't dystopian, but the lines between "justice" and "chaos" had most definitely become blurred.

Rules were supposed to be a means to keep order, but recently, those in power had begun to abuse their power in blatantly obvious ways. The gap between the rich and the poor became more and more obvious in every new law written, every word spoken, and every action taken, and the world condoned it. They praised, almost worshiped, the wealthy to disgusting levels and all but mocked the destitute for their suffering. The news nowadays was often filled with the coverage of extravagant parties, fashions, and other posh and ridiculous things, whilst the real news in the world, like the near-destruction of Baltigo, one of the foremost countries in the world, a few days ago received barely five minutes of airtime at best.

Simply put, the world's scale between power and human decency had been tipped in the light of money, and people were paying the [sometimes literal] price, as they always did.

Even Loguetown had been affected under the jurisdiction of their mayor, Buggy Barabara*, an eccentric man with a perpetually red nose who, as he liked to say, had "a proper appreciation for booty"; "booty", in this case, being the people of Lougetown's hard-earned money... money he made a point to rake in with growing consistency each year via raised taxes. Honestly, the man behaved like more of a pirate than a mayor, and he wasn't exactly well loved by the citizens, who'd given him the popular nickname "Buggy the Clown"*. So how the guy had managed to be re-elected yet again last year was anybody's guess, although the majority believed the voting results had been... less-than-fair.

Taxes aside, however, Buggy wasn't as bad as he could have been, as far as leaders went. The people of Loguetown were more than aware of the all-out cruelty in other parts of the world, even as nearby as the neighboring Shell Island, who's governor, "Ax-Hand" Morgan, was known to tie the townspeople to posts for days in the middle of the square* if they disrespected him. How such a brute was still allowed to govern was a question that had yet to be answered, but many suspected it was yet another "the-rich-get-away-with-anything" scenario.

All in all, however, Loguetown had remained fairly prosperous (despite their odd, money-grubbing mayor), and sheltered from the harsh reality that was becoming the world around them. The middle class didn't have much to worry about, and even the poor weren't in complete despair just yet. Yes, Loguetown was still a beacon of hope; a place where anyone could find anything they were looking for; a place with enough adventure to satiate a boy with big dreams, and enough bars to satisfy a hard-working man who just needed a break. It was a place that could make a young girl's eyes light up with wonder at the numerous "treasure" often sold in jewelry stores, and the kind of place that would make even a coward race out in joy to see every sight. It was a place with so much knowledge that it could captivate an aspiring doctor, and so much history that it could make a curious archeologist a very happy person indeed. It was a place of amazing architectural structures, a place of music, a place where everyone would greet one another as if they'd known them their whole life*. Rich, middle class, poor, it didn't matter. Everyone was considered an equal, and not one class was singled out from the other.

Not one, except for the only class that didn't belong to any of the three.

Those that lived on the streets, the "trash", as most called them, were disregarded by the citizens of Loguetown, and treated as less than human.

Despite the equal treatment of all classes in Loguetown, or perhaps because of it, those who lived on the streets were seen as little more than scum; a blight on a beautiful utopia the rest of Loguetown had built.

Perhaps it was because those that lived on the streets were considered "distasteful" to the rest of society that they were shunned, or perhaps it was even because they were the only reminder the citizens of Loguetown had that the near-picture perfect world they lived in was in as much danger of crumbling as Shell Island or, on a larger scale, the once-mighty Goa Kingdom, which years earlier had been reduced to a pathetic state seemingly overnight.

Whatever the reason, however, they had come to be the spite of Loguetown, be it by legislation that deemed it illegal to panhandle, or by average citizens who would simply shield their children's eyes when they passed a less-than-fortunate soul. And it was this behavior, among many other things, that drove most of those on the streets to take residence in the south-east side of Loguetown, a place far beyond the heart of the city where they'd neither be discriminated against or seen as different.

But while many of them had fled the cruel gaze of society, some had been brave, or, perhaps foolish, enough to stay; those were the people that believed they had just as much right to live in this supposed Utopia as anyone else, or the one's that simply enjoyed seeing the agitated looks on others' faces when they'd pass them on the sidewalk. Some even still stayed because watching others go about their daily life gave them hope; hope that one day, they, too, could join the ranks of this world that seemed to have dismissed them; whether it be hope for a better life or hope for a bit of payback on those that scorned them, it was hope nonetheless.

In the alleyway behind Gold Roger Bar* on Grand Line Lane*, there existed such examples of the two very different hopes.

Some examples of the first were the duo of former gang members Johnny and Yosaku; two men who'd left their own life of shady activities behind to try and apprehend the very same people they'd once surrounded themselves with. Though their attempts to become policemen had proven futile time and time again, the two still held onto their dreams, and strived to prove themselves to the police force by essentially trying to nab and deliver numerous small-time criminals to them... only to fail "just by a hair"*, as they liked to claim.

While Johnny and Yosaku represented the more optimistic hope of those one the streets, it was people like the proud soldier Wyper that represented the bitter one.

Wyper had been born in the small country of Shandora, and had moved to Loguetown to start a better life. Enlisting in the army, Wyper rose the ranks quickly, and seemed to be poised for a prosperous career in the military. All that changed when Wyper was injured in battle, and returned to Loguetown... only to find that everything dear to him was gone. His house, his belongings, even his wife and child*, who'd headed back to Shandora to nurse his father-in-law in his declining health. Ashamed, Wyper vowed to become a man worthy of returning to his family; a man more than a failed soldier, a man who, despite what the world said, was not "useless".

Yet in this alleyway, where hope, not matter which of the two, existed and thrived, in a smaller alleyway just across from it lived one such boy who'd abandoned whatever hope he'd had three years ago, along with his goals and anything else that had made him who he once was.

And as pitiful as it was to be a nineteen-year-old boy on the streets, a boy who'd lost everything that had once held a place in his heart, Sanji couldn't bring himself to care as he stared blearily at the rising sun; peeking from the gray sky over the rooftops and basking the dewy morning in a gentle glow.

For the last two years, he'd been watching the sunrise from the same place. For the last two years, he'd been looking towards a future he wasn't even sure would come. For the last two years, he'd hoped; just as Johnny and Yosaku did at first, and as Wyper did as the years wore on. For the last two years, he'd been watching, looking, and hoping. And after two years, he was tired of it.

Yes, was only nineteen, but in the years he'd spent on the street, he'd seen more than most people could have in their entire lives. He'd seen the coldness of humanity, the cruelty of this world. He'd seen children begging on street corners only to be dragged away by the powers-that-be, and he'd seen women kicked to the ground just for trying to sell flowers for a buck or two (even if he was still angry towards women, he couldn't deny it was wrong). He'd seen people shot just for walking on some gang's turf, and he'd seen others' be beaten for no other reason than walking down the same sidewalk as the rich. He'd woken up to the sound of desperate voices plotting to rob the nearest pawn shop, and had gone to sleep hearing the cries of a grown man who's wife was dying from malnutrition. He'd witnessed the best this life to offer, and the worst, every day as they went about their live, and he couldn't help but scoff each time.

Gol D. Roger, the man who this town was famous for, had been a man who'd fought for balance. A man who'd fought for equality. A man who, despite dying as a criminal would, had put the wellbeing of others first in his mind, and had altruistic meanings behind his actions. He was sincere, and he had tried to do right by the people of Loguetown. Liked or despised, he had tried to change the world for the better, despite doing so with dubious methods.

If he could see the people charged with that task now, however, those trying to "change the world" through their supposed justice, there wasn't a doubt in Sanji's mind that the "King of the Pirates" would've scoffed just as he did.

Because twenty years after that man had turned the world on it's head, those in positions of power now spat in its face, and sought solely to mold it in what they believed was best for, not everyone, but the select and fortunate few (i.e. them).

Equality? Just a word.

Balance? A platitude.

Changing the world for the better? Merely a dream.

And there was nothing worse than to wake up from a dream, only to discover you're living a nightmare.

Getting to his feet and brushing himself off with a sigh, Sanji quietly made his way out of the alley; careful not to wake those still sleeping in the one across from him.

At least that was one thing to be said about life on the streets.

Since you already lived a nightmare, you knew better than to fall for a dream.

* Y * Y * Y *

Every day always started the same.

Sanji would wake up before dawn (if he'd slept at all) fix himself up to the best of his abilities (no easy task, considering his clothes were threadbare and he didn't exactly have any beauty supplies), and then try to find something to eat. Sometimes, he'd get lucky when he'd [at times, literally] stumble upon spare change others had dropped. When that happened, he could usually buy a candy bar or two at a corner store, given they didn't chase him out (as most usually did). A lot of the time, however, his diet consisted of whatever he could find in trash bins. As what little of his pride he had left wouldn't allow him to be seen pawing through garbage, though, he would always make sure to search through it before Loguetown came alive; the sun becoming visible in the sky was his cue.

That particular day was no exception.

Yet another night without anything even close to resembling sleep, yet another morning spent shuffling through the streets and combing through trash.

As he made his way down the sidewalks, still damp from rain the night before, he took in his surroundings with a tired glance.

The city was fairly quiet, save for the occasional car on the road and the muffled music coming from a bar that was belting out its final song of the morning. There were very few people awake at this time, as well; only a few rushed blue-collar workers and the ever-present dumpster divers like himself, who'd deemed daybreak the best time to scrounge just as he had.

Keeping his head down, he stuffed his hands into his pockets and quickened his pace.

It was pathetic, really; pathetic that there were more people like him out there. Granted, it was a fact that he was painfully aware of, but no matter how many times he saw it, the sight of seeing others digging through trash bins for mere scraps of food would never cease to rattle him... especially when there were restaurants on each and every corner; restaurants that could've more than spared a free meal every now and then.

It was a reality that hit home for Sanji on more than just a personal level.

Back when before his homeless days, back when he'd still had a job and a place to call his own, he'd been the assistant cook for the five star restaurant the Baratie.

The Baratie had been the dream of Zeff, the man who'd practically raised him, and had been built on the simple rule that no one was to ever go hungry; a dream and a rule that, even as a ten-year-old brat, Sanji could more than get behind.

The two were more than aware that finding the funds to build a restaurant and get it's name out wouldn't be an easy task, but after years of sacrifice, hard work, and dedication, the Baratie opened its doors to the public at long last; taking on any and all comers, and always staying true to their credo that, should anyone pass by their doors in need of food, it was their job to feed them, free of charge.

Of course, their were plenty of the cooks who objected to, or at least were confused, by this. After all, why give away free food? But Zeff was different from those cooks. He understood just how important food was, saw a need for it, and took it upon himself to provide it. Whether it be giving away free meals, or donating the extra food sometimes leftover at the end of the work week, not a single scrap of food was ever wasted under Zeff's watch, and Sanji was glad for that.

In the time he'd spent working at the Baratie, he'd gained a deep respect and appreciation for, not just food, but life itself. He took Zeff's credo to heart, and held a deep pride in it. So whenever he had come across someone with very little money, or seen a person on the streets, or found them rummaging through the Baratie's garbage, he would take it upon himself to bring them to the back of the restaurant and cook them nothing short of a feast. And the sheer gratitude he received was more than any payment he could've received. He had already loved his job as a cook, but knowing that he'd been providing others who had near nothing with nourishment, with strength, with life was what had made his job special. He'd never been a self-righteous person (and he never would be), but that feeling of being a part of something greater than himself, the feeling that he'd been, somehow, changing the world, was one he would never forget.

However, those days where he felt as if he could make an even bigger difference than Gol D. Roger were far behind him.

The Baratie was long gone, along with their tough-yet-understanding cooks, though to where, Sanji wasn't sure (perhaps the sea, he would sometimes muse; old man Zeff always had thought outside the box, and a floating restaurant had been just one of his many ideas*).

Nowadays, there wasn't a single restaurant owner, or worker, that would show the same generosity that Sanji and Zeff once had.

These days, it was all about the money, all about getting ahead in life, and all about climbing the ladder of success; kindness was a hindrance to anyone and everyone, so, like all obstacles, it was disregarded in a swift and often cruel manner.

But that was Loguetown for you; the wonderful, beautiful, oh-so-illustrious Loguetown that thrived on equality and harmony; the self-same Loguetown that offered people of every class an individual splendors unique to their yearly income.

Happiness, Harmony, Hope.

The three words that had become recognized as Loguetown's motto, lined every town flag you could find, and were written in bold, brass letter on city hall.

As he turned into a alleyway that reeked of alcohol and grime, mud sloshing through the soles of his shoes and soaking his feet, Sanji bitterly concluded that there was another word Loguetown could add to its motto; a word offered to the class that city officials had conveniently left out when writing the saying.

Survival.

A simple, sullen word for people that lived simple, sullen lives.

A word that meant everything to some, and yet nothing to others' at all.

For those who spent their days reclining in their mansions, being waited on hand and foot by servants, the word survival was one perhaps they only knew thanks to dictionaries.

But for the less fortunate, as the elite had taken to branding them, survival was more than a word, it was an absolute rule; the only rule that really mattered, in fact.

Life on the streets was a harsh, unstable one; one that was constantly altering and evolving from one dangerous situation into another.

Dangerous situations that bordered on fatal; situations that made people desperate.

When desperation kicked in, things like morals and logic were easily forgotten.

And when morals and logic were easily forgotten, self-preservation by any means became the only thing that mattered.

Lying and stealing were common for most of those that lived on the streets. Decency often took a second seat when everything was a constant struggle.

The more desperate a person became, the worse the things they did to survive. Because on the streets, the only thing that mattered was survival. Everything was done for survival. No matter how awful; no matter how good a person you once were. Sure, there were a few exceptions, but they were far and few between, and Sanji had never personally met any of the rare populace.

As for Sanji himself, however, he was an oddity to both the desperate and the incorruptible, because the more desperate things became, the more he actually tried to keep his morals in check.

He had neither stayed the same as he always had, nor did he give in to the idea of abandoning his beliefs to survive.

While others were trying their hardest, their best, their worst, to get ahead in life, he was steadied in a quiet routine all his own that neither earned nor lost him much of anything.

As life around him spiraled into a chaotic mesh of crime and turbulence, he held on more firmly than ever to the values he'd learned as a child, and wouldn't allow himself to waver in his convictions.

No.

He wouldn't lie, no matter how convincing the stories his mind could conjure in order to make a quick buck.

He wouldn't steal, no matter how ragged his clothes were or how his stomach ached with hunger.

He especially wouldn't stab someone in the back for his own benefit, even if it meant that not doing so would cause certain suffering for himself.

And no amount of time on the streets would ever alter his conviction.

Even if he didn't have a shred of dignity left to his name, he still had enough inherent pride to hold onto the last thing he owned; his morals. And he wouldn't let anyone and/or anything take them from him, even the cruel, unforgiving streets of Loguetown.

Because if survival meant stepping over others, then he wouldn't try to survive. He'd just try his best to get by, and if he couldn't do that much, then, well, that was fine, too.

To be honest, it wasn't as if he had any particular will to go on. He had nothing to live for, no one to cry for him if he died (not counting Zeff, though he doubted the old geezer would even if the news somehow did manage to reach him). So if he one day collapsed and his body breathed its last, it wouldn't really matter. Why hurt those who actually had a life ahead of them just so a fool like him could make it through another day?

Not only did it go against his morals, it was pointless. And there was nothing he hated more than pointless things. Like himself.

Smirking grimly to himself, Sanji turned down yet another dank and dismal alleyway and continued down the road.

He had thirty-two cents* in his pocket, enough to buy a chocolate bar (given that it hadn't gone up in price like it seemed to do every week) from the nearest gas station. A chocolate bar that would barely be enough to keep him conscious.

At least he could take some small comfort in the fact the garbage cans would be filled to the brim; the next day was collection day, after all, and everyone liked to get their expired goods out on time. And for the homeless of a city that didn't have a single shelter, that was the equivalent of hitting the lottery.

Coming to the mouth of the alley and the open road, Sanji crossed it without even bothering to look for traffic.

There wasn't likely to be many cars on the road, and by some chance he did get hit, he didn't really mind.

After all, how ironic would it be if he were to die on New World Avenue*, the ritziest place in Loguetown?

Especially in front of the Mikan House*, the huge [obnoxious] Queen Anne mansion that was practically the staple of the street.

Sanji gave a small scoff, which ended off in a fit of dry coughs.

He hated everything about that house; from it's tacky orange color with its garish green and white trimming*, to the sheer magnitude that took up acres of unused land... land that could be used to build shelters for those that lived in absolute squalor just a few alleys away.

Sadly for him, however, he had to pass it each and every day in order to get to his destinations.

It was almost laughable.

Mikan House.

A perfectly stupid name for a perfectly stupid-looking mansion.

As he regained his breath, Sanji steadied himself once more and shuffled down the street yet again, pointedly keeping his gaze from the eyesore.

Zeff had once told him when he was a child that everyone, no matter who they are, had a mansion waiting for them in Heaven.

If that was true... if he really did die someday soon, and on the rare chance that he did make it to Heaven, he sincerely hoped that his mansion looked nothing like that abhorrent monstrosity.

Chidsengan: So, there you have it! Two years in the making, but finally-

Zoro: The most pathetically written chapter in history has been uploaded!

Sanji: And what exactly would you know about good literature, you stupid swordsman?

Zoro: Enough to know that sucked.

Sanji: What was that?!

Me: ^_^" Actually, he's not wrong. I apologize that this chappie was so terribly written, and slow, and that I'm not a better writer...

Zoro: ... why do you say chappie instead of chapter...?

Me: *ignores him* But, nonetheless, I'll keep trying my hardest, and do my best to please you all, my dear readers!

Zoro: Will you stop ignoring everything I say, woman?!

Sanji: *kicks him* Oh, dear, lovely, Miss Chidsengan! Your heart is so pure and your passion so inspiring! I shall do everything in my power to assist you in this noble quest!

Chidsengan: ^_^" ... um... thanks...

Sanji: The pleasure is all mine, mademoiselle!

Zoro: Pleasure my foot! All she does is torment you!

Sanji: If it's for a beautiful lady, I have no problem with that.

Zoro: Well, I have a problem with everything about the little brat.

Sanji: That's it, you green-haired jerk! I'm going to fry you up and serve you to Luffy for lunch!

Zoro: Not if I chop you to bits first!

*the two start fighting*

Me: *oblivious as ever* Thank you everyone who reads and reviews, favorites and follows, or who even clicked on this by complete accident! I hope you enjoyed it at least a little, and I look forward to seeing you next time! ^_^ Bye until then, my nakama!

Preview:

"Hey look, Usopp!" Luffy called to his friend, waving the long-nosed boy over. "Somebody left this bag of trash lying on the sidewalk! Let's check and see if there's anything good in it!"

Sighing, Usopp made his way towards Luffy.

"Don't be ridiculous, Luffy. If it was a bag of trash than there's no way it would be lying out here on the sidewalk, it'd be in a trash can," he said sensibly. "Besides, bags of trash don't have hair, or hands, or feet. It's clearly a person..."-immediately, his face paled- "AHHHH!"

With a terrified shriek, Usopp jumped back; tears streaming down his face in an almost comical way.

Luffy, on the other hand, stayed right where he was.

"A person...?" he mused, folding his arms over his chest and tilting his head towards his right shoulder in thought.

Glancing from Usopp, then back down to the crumpled heap of a body before him, Luffy blinked once, then twice...

Then smiled.

"Awesome!" he exclaimed.

Usopp nearly fell flat on his face from disbelief.

"No, it's not awesome!" he screeched. "It's terrible! What if they're some criminal?! Or a drunk?! What if they wake up and attack us?!"-his rant was cut short by the sight of Luffy poking the person in the shoulder-"Ah! What are you doing?! Don't touch it!"

"They're really cold," Luffy stated, poking them again.

"Didn't you hear me?! I just said don't touch it!" Usopp cried. "And of course they're cold! It's freezing out here! Which is just one of the many reasons we should be back home, not here with them! Don't you agree?"

Silence.

"I dunno'," Luffy answered.

"What's that supposed to mean?!" Usopp whacked his friend upside his [denser-than-dense] head.

"Hey, do you think they're alright?" Luffy continued, paying no mind to Usopp.

"How should I know?!" the long-nosed boy yelled, before reeling in whatever was left of his patience and reason. "Look, Luffy, it's getting late, and this isn't the best part of town to be hanging out in after dark! Now, if you want to stay in this creepy place while it's twenty degrees out in the middle of the night , then that's great for you, but I have way better places I'd rather be than here!"-pausing, he shifted his gaze towards Luffy... who had opted to try and awaken the stranger over heeding Usopp's words-"Hey! Are you listening to me?!"

"Hold on for a second,"

"That's what you have to say?! Hold on for a second! There might not be another second to hold on for if we don't get out of here!"

Luffy's brows knitted together.

"They're not waking up," he said, worry etched over his features.

At his words, Usopp once again jumped backwards.

"Ah! They're dead!" he concluded. "Luffy, come on, let's get out of here before the cops come and think we did it! You know how we're always getting blamed for things we don't do!"

"No way, Usopp!"

"No way?! What do you mean, no way?!"

Luffy didn't respond.

Instead, he scooped the person's lifeless figure into his arms and got to his feet.

"We can't just leave them out here," he said plainly, as if it was the simplest thing in the world. "We have to help them,"

Usopp's jaw nearly dropped to the ground.

"Help them?!" he couldn't believe what he was hearing. "Luffy, you don't know who, or what, they are! You don't even know if they're a lady or a man! I don't even think they're alive! You can't just take them home with us! Besides, what about the others?! How do you think they'll react to you bringing a lifeless person into the house?!"

"Well, what do you want me to do?!" Luffy argued. "Just turn and walk away?!"

"Now that you put it that way, it does sound pretty heartless," Usopp admitted. "But it's not like we can do much for them, especially since-"

Before Usopp could finish, the listless figure gave a slight whimper and shifted ever-so-slightly.

"AH! ZOMBIE!" Usopp screamed, prior train of thought forgotten as he darted behind the nearest thing he could find (which, in this case, was a lightpole).

Luffy, looked down at the personin his arms, face set in concern.

"Hey, are you okay?" he asked, ignoring the terrified screams from Usopp in the background.

"Luffy! Get away from that thing! Before it eats your brains!" the long-nosed boy exclaimed; half-pleading, half-ordering.

If he'd heard him, Luffy didn't seem to care.

"Are you okay?" he asked the half-conscious figure, who looked up at him blearily.

"D-don't worry, Luffy, if it attacks you, I'll save you!" Usopp declared, though both his voice and body shook in fear. "You hear, that whoever you are?! I'm a great warrior who's traveled all around the world! They call me... Usopp the Great! S-so don't try anything funny, unless you want to face my wrath, and the wrath of my 8,000 followers! Got it?!"

Aside from Usopp's screaming, however, the street remained completely quiet as Luffy stared at the stranger; the stranger doing his best to return Luffy's gaze.

"I see," Luffy suddenly spoke to the person. "Don't worry. It'll be alright. Just leave everything to me!""Luffy?! What happened?! Did they say something to you?! And what are you doing making promises to people you don't know?!" Usopp asked.

Luffy straightened, bringing the person closer to his chest as they lost consciousness once again.

"Relax, Usopp, it's fine," he said calmly.

"And just how do you know that?!" Usopp hissed back.

Looking back at his friend, Luffy gave the most serious look Usopp had ever seen; a look that said everything, yet required no words.

Yet Luffy still chose to speak one... one that sent a chill down Usopp's very spine.

"Instinct," he replied.

Next Time: Cold Streets and Kinder Souls! I'm going to be Queen of the Authors!

Zoro: Like heck you are!

Explanations: About the things marked with asterisks...

- ... that he'd been able to hear the "voices" of the Earth and all living things...

Explanation: I'm just quoting Silvers Rayleigh. But you probably already knew that, my dear readers :)

- ... the "King of the Pirates"...

Explanation: This needs no explanation, really. Just that, even in AU, Gol D. Roger's still known as KotP XD

- ... but, this time, the World Nobles, descendants of the nineteen families...

Explanation: There are technically twenty like in the canon. But also like in the canon, the Nefertari family declined the honor.

- ... even Loguetown had been affected under the jurisdiction of their mayor, Buggy Barabara...

Explanation: I needed to give Buggy a last name, as he is a mayor in this fanfic, and referencing him simply as "Buggy" sounded a bit odd to me. So I figured I could garner some inspiration from his fruit. But Buggy Chopchop wasn't really cutting it (pun intended), so I went with the Japanese version, Bara Bara, instead.

- ... as he liked to say, had "a proper appreciation for booty"...

Explanation: If anyone else is brave enough to watch the English dub, they'll probably recognize this quote from Buggy.

- ... the citizens, who'd given him the popular nickname "Buggy the Clown"...

Explanation: And Buggy's moniker still stands, as well XD

- ... who's governor, "Ax-Hand" Morgan, was known to tie the townspeople to posts for days in the middle of the square...

Explanation: A little callback to Zoro when Luffy first met him.

- ... a place with enough adventure to satiate a boy with big dreams...

Explanation: Paging Luffy...

- ... enough bars to satisfy a hard-working man who just needed a break...

Explanation: ... and Zoro...

- ... a place that could make a young girl's eyes light up with wonder at the numerous "treasure" often sold in jewelry stores...

Explanation: ... Nami...

- ... the kind of place that would make even a coward race out in joy to see every sight...

Explanation: Usopp and his numerous "new island" disorders XD...

- ... a place with so much knowledge that it could captivate an aspiring doctor...

Explanation: ... Chopper...

- ... so much history that it could make a curious archeologist a very happy person...

Explanation: ... Robin...

- ... amazing architectural structures...

Explanation: The best I could think of for Franky XD ...

- ... a place of music...

Explanation: ... Brook...

- ... a place where everyone would greet one another as if they'd known them their whole life...

Explanation: The Straw Hats. I know, sappy, corny, and predictable. But I'll literally write a oneshot of your choice for the first person who claims to know what I was referencing right off the bat XD

- ... in the alleyway behind Gold Roger Bar...

Explanation: Points to anyone else who remembers that location in Loguetown :)

- ... on Grand Line Lane...

Explanation: Well, the Grand Line had to exist somehow in this AU, right? ^_^"

- ... only to fail "just by a hair"...

Explanation: Johnny and Yosaku: the English Dub Years XD

- ... even his wife and child*, who'd headed back to Shandora...

Explanation: Because it was easier for me to make Wyper married to Laki and Aisa his daughter.

- ... a floating restaurant had been just one of his many ideas...

Explanation: *dramatic music* Meanwhile, in another dimension... XD

- ... he had thirty-two cents in his pocket...

Explanation: San-ji = 32. Thank you, SBS, for making me an even bigger One Piece nerd XD

- ... New World Avenue...

Explanation: Had to squeeze in the New World, too :)

- ... Mikan House...

Explanation: Yeah, a house named after tangerines. I wonder the type of people who could live there...

- ... he hated everything about that house...

Explanation: Hahahahahahaha. Future irony is ironic XD

- ... from it's tacky orange color with its garish green and white trimming...

Explanation: A house named after tangerines has to be orange, no matter how odd it sounds. As for the green and white trimming, I really drew inspiration from young Nami's dress in her character arc. Although I actually think the dress is anything but "tacky" and "garish" XD