The seventh guest
By KuroKame
In the second age of the pirates, there is a restaurant sailing the Grand Line and the four oceans. It is known as the Sagatie, famous for the first-class chefs working there. For one man, it is also a symbol for a dream coming true. But when a man finally reaches his life-long dream, what else is there for him to long for?
Disclaimer: I don't own One Piece or any of the characters; I'm just playing with them for fun.
Akatani Kaji and the non-Oda-ish characters are my own creations, please do not use without permission (not that I think anyone would want to, but just in case...)
The eastern ocean lay almost perfectly still as the sun slowly moved across the sky towards the horizon. Even as the skies shifted color from bright blue to a fiery red, one particular place in the middle of the ocean was as busy as if night was nowhere near falling. Ships and boats of all sizes had been flocking to Sagatie, the carp-shaped sea restaurant, since the break of dawn, and very few seemed to be planning on leaving before sunset.
A loud crash suddenly disturbed the calm that had settled over the area, echoing over the ocean as the restaurant shook violently. Fainter crashes and thumps followed, accompanied by cheering and applauses before the large double-doors on the portside were shattered as a man was flung out from the restaurant out onto the outer terrace deck to which the many ships were moored.
The man skidded over the deck and came to a stop somewhere near the middle. He moaned lightly as he slowly crawled to his feet while staring back towards the restaurant. One hand moved up to his bruised and bleeding face to sweep some stray locks of red hair out of his slanted eyes while the other searched along his sash for a weapon that wasn't there. He took a deep, trembling breath as he glared at the one responsible for his injuries. Akatani Kaji was a well-known lone pirate, only eighteen and already with a bounty of 50 million Belli on his head. There was no way some low-life cook was going to make a fool out of him that easy.
In the doorway to the restaurant stood a middle-aged man with graying mint green hair and a steel grey beard, his muscular, tattooed arms folded across his chest. The man's already ugly features didn't improve as his face was twisted into an expression of outmost annoyance.
"And stay out!" he said gruffly, waving a fist the size of a cannonball at the young pirate.
"Pati …"
The calm voice caused Kaji and the older man to look up towards the second floor of the ship, where a lanky blond man dressed in a black suit was leaning against the ornamented railing with his back turned against them, a cigarette casually hanging from the corner of his mouth.
"You're not kicking out a hungry customer again, are you, Pati?" the blond man asked, idly puffing out rings of smoke, almost as if he had no real interest in having the conversation. "You're being awfully noisy."
"That's no customer, and he sure ain't hungry," the green-haired man named Pati growled, thrusting his thumb towards the young pirate on the terrace. "He has no money to pay for all the food he just ate."
At first, the man on the second floor didn't seem to have heard the accusations aimed at Kaji, because he didn't reply or even turn around. Then he tapped the ashes off his cigarette and put out the last embers by rubbing it against the railing before he turned to look down at the men below him. He stuck his hand into the inner pocket of his suit jacket and withdrew a small, black leather bag in which he deposited what was left of his cigarette. Sliding the bag back into his jacket, he put his hands in the pockets of his pants and made a leap over the railing down to the lower deck. He landed as silent and softly as a cat on the deck next to Pati, turning to look directly at Kaji as he slowly started walking out onto the outer deck.
The young pirate straightened his back as much as he could without wincing from the pain in his bruised ribs, watching the suit-clad man warily. He found the blond man's calm and clean-cut appearance unnerving. What could a man with that kind of air about him possibly be doing aboard a ship with brutes like that 'Pati'-character? Still, in the back of his mind, Kaji knew that he had seen the man before.
The blond hair framing the pointy face while covering most of its left side; the sharp look in the almost half-shut eyes; the thin beard bristle along the line of his jaw and the strange, curled eyebrows lead Kaji's thoughts to a Wanted-poster he had seen when he was younger. But this man couldn't possibly be the person on the poster – why would the Marines put a bounty of 697 million Belli on a seemingly harmless man?
Suddenly, Kaji was thrown to the deck, an excruciating pain in his ribs spreading to the rest of his torso. The world spun before his eyes as he curled up on the deck, carefully lifting his head to see what had happened. In front of him stood the suit-clad man, one leg still lifted from the deck after delivering a bone-shattering kick to Kaji's body. His face was still carrying the same calm, almost bored expression from before, but the glare in the only visible eye seemed to be able to pierce through steel.
"Don't think that I don't know who you are and how much you're worth, you shitty little eggplant," the blond man said with an eerily calm voice. "But not even the King of Pirates would eat for free in my restaurant. Now get the hell away from my ship if you don't want me to kick you all the way to whatever little island you came from."
Staring at the tall man with wide eyes, Kaji slowly crawled backwards towards his boat, his broken ribs creaking painfully for every move he made. Turning away from the monstrous cooks, he made a mental note never to visit a restaurant without money ever again.
Putting his foot back on the deck, the suit-clad man watched the young pirate set sail to leave the restaurant as quick as possible. He sighed, adding yet another eat-and-run to his growing list that week. What bothered him wasn't that the restaurant lost money every time it happened, there was always enough money. But the ingratitude that seemed to inhabit the new era of pirates kept disappointing him over and over again. Turning away to go back into the restaurant, he glanced at the older man.
"Let's not keep the customers waiting, Pati," he said with the same calm voice he had used before. "It's getting late, and there are pirates in East Blue."
"Aye, Owner Sanji," Pati replied and nodded.
The blond man smiled lightly at his own title before he walked towards the restaurant, where a short, gruffly-looking man was already mending the broken doors. Nodding, Sanji smiled appreciating at the carpenter as he passed by.
"Yo, Minatomo. Thanks for fixing the door, you can leave the bill to one of my waiters.10,000 Belli for the repair as usual?"
"Make it 15 and I'll fix those holes in the roof as well," the short man said, nodding towards the roof of the restaurant, where the traces of a battle still remained. Without taking his eyes from his work, he then tilted his head towards Sanji. "How're you gonna keep her afloat when I'm not around anymore?"
Sanji laughed and turned around in the doorway, his hands deep in his pockets.
"A pack of bubblegum and lots of duct tape. Listen, old man, I'll give you 20 if you can take a look at the hull as well."
Minatomo grunted in reply before he got up and lifted the right-hand door to its hinges. He then continued mending the other door in deep concentration while Sanji disappeared into the restaurant, closely followed by Pati, who politely started to ask the paying customers to leave – or with Sanji's words 'Get the hell out of the restaurant' – as soon as he entered the large dining hall.
– e – e –
It was way past midnight before Sanji had finished closing up the restaurant. After making sure that the fridges and the freezers were securely locked – an old habit he had found himself too fond of to do something about – he made his way through the dark dining hall and began climbing the stairs to the second floor where the cooks' quarters were located. Once he reached the top of the stairs, he turned left in the narrow corridor and followed it until he came up to the door at the far end. As he walked, he listened to the sounds that drifted out from the other quarters where his chefs and waiters were sleeping. The snores and muttering voices that echoed lightly between the wooden walls as the cooks were talking and arguing with each other in their sleep made Sanji's eyes sting uncomfortably, and he rubbed them with the back of his hand before opening the door to his room.
Sinking down in the armchair behind his small wooden desk, Sanji leaned back while looking through the list of supplies from the latest inventory. They had arrived to East Blue only a week earlier, and they were already running low on many ingredients. At that rate, they would have to pack up and return to All Blue in only four days to restock their supplies. Throwing the stack of papers onto his desk, Sanji sighed deeply as he looked up at the ceiling.
Out of habit, he pulled out the packet of cigarettes and the box of matches from his pocket. Sticking one of the cigarettes in the corner of his mouth, he let what was left of the pack slide back into his pocket and struck fire to a match without even paying much attention to what he was doing. Once the cigarette was lit and he had let the box of matches slip into the pocket, he shook the match to put out the tiny flame.
Only seven months had passed since the first customers visited the newly built Sagatie, Sanji's greatest pride and treasure. She was the evidence that he had reached his goal, to find All Blue, the legendary ocean, and also his way of passing on the legacy of the old fart, Zeff. After all, he had inherited the old man's desire to feed the hungry souls out on the oceans.
So why was he not happy? He asked himself that question at least hundred times every day, and each time, he gave himself the same answer: Because he had reached his goal. There was nothing for him to look forward to except the next time he got to see the ocean he had discovered. There was no more excitement, no more laughter and no more adventure to look forward to, just the same old routines every single day, no matter what ocean they were in.
Some days, he almost felt like there was a hole inside him that ached worse than any fractured rib or crushed bone had ever done in his entire life. A black hole that threatened to grow stronger and one day swallow not only his happiness but his whole being. Of course, he had met some of his old nakama out on the different oceans and in the Grand Line, and that had momentarily eased the pain inside him.
Kyle and Manti, the two numbskull surfers who had turned out to be two of the greatest musicians and fighters in the whole Grand Line, were still on their way towards their final goal in life, to compose the greatest song in the world, and Sanji had barely been able to hide his jealousy when they told him about the adventures they had been through after the Straw Hat Clan had been dissolved.
Keira-chan, the little stowaway from the island inside the Calm Belt had finally reached South Blue and the Peacock Islands where she had found her long lost family, and Seraly-chan had become the best archer in the whole world. That had also been in the newspapers, Sanji reminded himself.
Sol, the undefeated Golden Archer outshined by unknown pirate.
That had been the headline covering the front pages all over the world, followed by a short article about the competition in archery where Usopp's apprentice clearly had showed off her skills against the champion.
The stinging feeling made itself known in the corners of Sanji's eyes, and he rubbed them furiously, suddenly wondering why he hadn't gone to bed yet. The restaurant was opening at exactly six in the morning, whether he went to sleep or not. Therefore, he crushed the embers of his cigarette in the ashtray on the desk and got up from his armchair, glancing out through the circular windows at the calm ocean as he unbuttoned his black jacket and pulled off his necktie. Folding them both neatly and placing them on top of a small bureau, he took off his shoes and pulled out the top drawer from which he withdrew something that was very similar to a fishnet.
Reaching up, Sanji fastened the ends of his hammock to a pair of strong hooks in the ceiling and climbed into it. As he settled down and the hammock slowly stopped swinging, he couldn't help but smile a little. He knew that the other cooks were wondering why he wasn't sleeping in a normal bed like the rest of them, and he also knew that there were rumors about him never really sleeping circling around on the ship. But he let them talk. The truth was simply that he had found that he never slept better anywhere than he did in his hammock. He guessed that he simply loved the light swinging movement the hammock made as waves slapped against the anchored ship.
Slowly but safely, Sanji drifted off to sleep, in his dreams returning to his days as an active pirate, where he no longer was the almost thirty-year-old head chef of a famous restaurant, but was turned back into the nineteen-year-old man who searched for something no one really thought existed. He was surrounded by the strongest, most loyal nakama any man could ever find, all of them lead by a wide-eyed moron who aimed for an impossible goal - and he was happy. So very, very happy.