Hi! This was written quite some time ago, but only now I've gotten to edit it and stuff. I guess it was meant to be a one-shot sort of thing but it kind of grew...

Sanji crept along between the high rise buildings, swivelling his head. Up, left and right. Down. Side to side. It was a habit he picked up as soon as the apocalypse broke out.

Rule number one: don't trust anything.

Double check noises. Keep them in mind. Always look behind yourself. Up if there were tall surroundings.

Know where you're going. It was big city, not huge. The buildings weren't very tall, which was good, and they had flat rooftops, which was excellent, considering they could hold hidden goodies there.

Months ago, he never would have dreamed to be so uptight. The Sanji back then usually welcomed company and provided good hospitality and manners, especially the ladies. All those days back in the wide spacious kitchen and elegant dining rooms were like a dream.

Reality was so much harsher.

He'd never imagine he would see a side of humanity usually buried deep within.

Animal instincts.

The blood spurting from torn limbs and running down their chins as they bit into flesh. Live flesh.

No, it wasn't zombies who were the monsters here.

People.

Starving crazed people.

They reached for anything. Anyone. He managed to escape but the image of a human body being torn apart by numerous arms and bloodied teeth haunted his nights. He spent his days away from people. They were monsters.

Sanji didn't like to smile. He was polite, but the smile he kept plastering on his face has begun to wear thin. He turned down any attempt of small talk and preferred silence. What was there to talk about?

It was hard to sleep when alone, with no one to watch his back, but it was better that way. It was hard to distinguish zombie from human, not that people were that good anyway. Sanji had seen groups falling out. He knew people would probably consider it immoral to watch former friends kill each other but, it was suicide to try and step in-between.

Sanji had prided himself with the fact he was stylish but it was hard to maintain a sense of pride when the world turned so corrupt. He wished he could save ladies and children from danger. He wished he could give food to those starving children separated from their parents.

But it didn't matter.

What mattered was that you did 'it'. The quicker, the more efficient, the better. Preferably quiet, cutting off the source of voice before the scream could erupt.

Who got in the way? What weapons? He snorted.

All that mattered is that you survived.

Whether it be killing zombies or other... 'competitors'.

A groan resonated in the gloom. The blonde stopped, flipping a karambi into his palm before creeping forward. The zombie raised its head, crawling towards Sanji. Its legs were detached.

Oh, this would be easy.

A heavy foot on the neck of the zombie secured the head. He hesitated, debating between his options- a quick jab through the neck or a luxury he couldn't afford- kicking his opponents. An adoption on French kickboxing but he would only use his legs, as hands were precious to a chef.

Hesitating was dangerous. If you went into anything half-assed, you'd die.

He tucked the knife away.

Sanji hated using knives. He hated the fact every time he used them, he didn't feel a twinge he used to feel in his chest months ago. He hated that he rendered a chef's tool to a mere murdering device. Most of all, he hated that it was necessary. There was no point of upholding morals and beliefs in this world but he tried when he could. He raised his leg, bringing it smashing down onto the zombie's head, cracking the skull and squishing the brain between the sole and the ground.

Sanji sighed softly. He reached into a pocket and took out a fabric ball, rolling it between his fingers. Dust covered his thick fingers. It was also a habit he developed. He never anticipated that his hobbies would one day save his life.

Sanji took up parkour out of interest one day when he came across a bunch of hoodlums hoping to rob the restaurant. When he chased them, yelling threatening insults, he was surprised to find the group was actually quite nimble, being able to leap over fences and climb walls. They laughed as they ran, hollering about the man in the suit running after them.

Goddamn, he wore suits back then. Suits. Now, he wore whatever he came across that was good enough for running. He managed to come across a flat backpack and fashioned belts into knives and gun holsters.

Nevertheless, he did manage to catch them and offered them two options; either he hand them over to the police or they work at the restaurant and he keep quiet about it. Turns out the new platoon fit in well with the rest of the crude chefs. They offered to teach him the basics of what they did before. Parkour, or the more flashy version, free running. It wasn't hard and he picked up the techniques quickly enough, using his skills to take shortcuts when he ran late. The flow was easy to maintain and frankly, he could see why the group would try to get into trouble- it was exhilarating to be chased. He placed the chalk back in his pocket. It was just an extra for better grip.

Sanji heard another groan. He immediately slowed down, flipping out his peculiar knife. He was lucky to come across this, much as he disliked them. It fit in his palm well and was easy to use in small spaces. He sidled up the wall.

"I'm sorry, Chopper," a hoarse voice whispered. More shuffling noises. A man slumped against the wall, a curious pink hat slung low on his head.

What? Chopper? What's that? Sanji rubbed the handle of his knife, willing to wait this out. If there was another person, it could mean trouble. There was no answer. The man coughed. It sounded wet, like he drew up phlegm. Or blood. Slowly, Sanji poked his head out and walked forward. A young boy was unconscious, lying near the man. He was small and looked about twelve.

"Who are you?" The man raised his head slightly.

"Prince." At least in this world, Sanji came across so many people he would take a little pleasure in inventing fake names to go by. It was fun and recently he had a particular attachment to this name.

The man chuckled. "It's not the first I've seen a young one who's hardened up quickly. Rest assured this old geezer is not going to hurt you." Sanji looked at the man's face, taking in his bizarre white hair and kind eyes. The pink hat was definitely an oddity. It was sort of like a felt top hat with a white cross in the middle. Did he make that hat? Sanji kept silent, taking in the man's tattered clothes. "Look," the man continued. "I have a favour to ask. Please listen." Sanji gasped and stumbled back.

"You're..."

"I'm bitten. I know. I can feel it but I'm not going to die just yet." Sanji wiped his clammy free hand.

"I'll... listen."

"Thank you." The man bowed his head. "That kid over there. His name is Chopper. A little kid with a big heart." Sanji glanced at the little boy. He was cute. A tuff of brown hair and a feminine face. The man laughed, reduced into a hacking wheeze. "He's cute isn't he?" Sanji hummed assent. What was this man trying to point out? If it meant taking care of this kid...

"You want me to take him." He stated, feeling bile rise against his throat. He should take care of this little kid!

But how would he climb buildings and jump off them?

Chopper wouldn't last in this world.

He'd have to find food for two mouths.

Childish innocence would be destroyed.

He should. He should.

But it'd be harder to survive.

He didn't have time to contemplate. Sanji clenched his fists, gripping his knife.

"Aye." The man nodded. "You weren't the first to come across us and you wouldn't be the first to reject this either." Sanji shook his head doggedly. He would never be able to walk on with a clear conscience after choosing to leave a child to die.

"How old is he?"

"Fifteen. Small for his age but smart. Very clever. Already knows more about medicine than I do."

"Is he ok?"

"He is fine but hasn't had much to eat recently. He's scared of those things."

Another way to guilt trip Sanji. Hunger. He knew better than anyone else how it felt to be hungry.

"So he can walk and everything?"

"He's fine." Sanji rubbed his temples.

"Please." The man grabbed Sanji's leg. "Please take him. If you don't want him to go with you at least take him somewhere safe away from here. It's riddled with those things and they grow in number every day. I'm a goner but I don't want to drag him to death as well. He's a good kid. He wants to be a doctor." Sanji rested a firm hand on the man's shoulder.

There was no going back now.

He wasn't going to let this kid die. He'd take him. Maybe to a camp or something.

"I'll take him. I'll make sure he's safe. I swear it." He stared into the man's eyes. "I'll make sure he has enough to eat. He'll never starve again as long as I am here. I can't guarantee he'll won't be scared sometimes and ..."

"I know. Chopper has to grow up soon."

"I'm sorry. I don't have much to offer."

"It's more than enough." The man said, shaking his head. "Thank you." He coughed, doubling over and clasping his hand over his mouth to muffle the sound. The hat toppled down. "Leave now," he managed to wheeze, waving Sanji away. He wiped the blood on his pants and took the hat up. Sanji fished out rope from his backpack and crouched, slinging the boy's hands over his shoulders and tying them together. He also bound Chopper's feet together. It was definitely very awkward, hindering Sanji's ability to move but it was best he could do. It didn't look like the boy was waking up soon and even if he did, he'd be too weak to travel where Sanji wanted. He turned to walk.

"Wait." Sanji stopped, half turning to the dying man. He held out the pink hat. "Can you take this with you? It's been Chopper's favourite. He's always been bugging me for it." The blonde nodded, turning so that the hat could be placed inside his bag. He noticed the small gun in the man's hand. "Did you want my gun after?" the man asked, catching Sanji's stare. Sanji shook his head. Logically, he should take the gun and try to collect his weapons, but...

He should let people die with dignity, dammit!

"Lie to Chopper. I don't want him to come looking for me. Don't bother with a burial either. A man dies neither from an infectious bite, nor poison, not even bullet wounds. He dies when he is forgotten. Make sure Chopper isn't forgotten and make sure he doesn't feel responsible for me. I want him to live a better life then I did. He'll be a good doctor." Sanji nodded, and didn't turn back, just raising a hand in acknowledgment and farewell. He walked for a good few minutes.

He shuddered at the sound of the gun.