Disclaimer: This story is a work of fiction. I do not own One Piece, its characters, nor am I making money for writing this. I own nothing!

Chapter One

Eight years is a long time…

Just about anyone would probably think so…

Any amount of time spent hundreds of miles away from home, though, seemed to double…

That was how Sanji felt, at least.

It was June 11th, 2013. A mere day ago, nineteen-year-old Sanji LeNoir and his foster-father Zeff, an accomplished chef, had returned to their home city of New Orleans, Louisiana, after eight long years in Chicago. They were forced to evacuate in the year 2005 when their fair city was struck by the devastating hurricane, Katrina. Sanji was only eleven years old at the time.

His father, a former sailor, was all too familiar with the warning signs of a truly monumental storm. They didn't have to watch the news in order to know that there was no way something of its magnitude could be avoided. Therefore… the only thing left to do was to flee for their lives. It was no easy thing, Sanji knew, to abandon the only real home you'd ever known…

That home was The Baratie`… It was a first class restaurant, and Zeff's pride and joy. The old man loved that restaurant. They both did. It was there that Sanji had been given his very own bedroom; it was there that the old seadog had taught his wayward pup all there was to know about the art of fine cooking…and it was to there that Sanji looked forward to returning everyday after school. As much as they would have liked to stay…there was no choice but to leave. Sanji remembered looking on with sadness, tears blurring his vision as they drove away. He remembered those dark, menacing clouds that loomed above. They seemed to stretch on forever…

That was the last time either one of them saw The Baratie` in person…well, until now, that is. Sanji wished that they could have returned sooner, but times were hard. Money was tight and new expenses never failed to crop up in some form or another. Sanji had to admit, though, that he was expecting the place to be in worse shape, what with all the time that had gone by.

There was some minor flood damage, an unpleasant, moldy scent wafting through the broken windows, a partially collapsed roof, and a busted wall… but all in all, the old girl was still standing. Sanji couldn't contain a smile.

"Quit your gawking, ya brat," Zeff fussed, his peg leg tapping loudly against the ground as he strode past the captivated young man. "That isn't going to get this place up and running again."

Sanji scoffed and shoved his hands inside the pockets of his favorite black suit. He slumped dejectedly. "Haven't I told you not to call me a brat, old man? You don't have to be such a downer. Would it kill you act like you're happy to be back?"

Zeff regarded his son with a flat stare. "And what good would that do?" he asked, producing two store-bought surgical masks from his pocket. He tossed one at Sanji, who managed to catch the fluttering item just before it touched the pavement. "Put that on, brat. We're going inside and you've already got enough fungus growing in your lungs." Zeff was, of course, referring to Sanji's unhealthy chain-smoking habits.

"Up yours, stupid geezer," Sanji grumbled as he pulled on the mask. He followed Zeff to the backdoor that was, more or less, not there. The security chains were broken, causing it to hang sideways on its hinges. It looked as though someone had taken an axe to it. Sanji frowned at the sight…looters, no doubt. Not surprising, but annoying nonetheless.

Zeff didn't seem particularly bothered as he pushed the broken door aside and hobbled inside. It was dark and gloomy inside. The electricity had been canceled long ago. The only light was coming from the sunshine outside. The place was eerily silent. Zeff began to wander the run-down interior. All the things they were unable to take with them or put into storage were gone.

Sanji huffed behind his mask as he ventured upstairs to the kitchen. The microwaves gone, as were the light fixtures…It was a damn shame. Sanji took a defensive pose as something dark and furry dashed from the far end of the room and then disappeared through a crack in the wall. 'Great. Just great!' Sanji thought. The building was probably overrun with vermin.

"I think there is a family of raccoons in the oven," Sanji joked, hoping Zeff could hear him in the dining room.

The old chef expressed a gruff chuckle. "We'll be lucky if that's all we've got," he replied, running a hand over the weather-beaten leather on one of the booth seats. These would definitely have to be replaced. Almost everything would…

Sanji made his way up to the third floor, the area where he and the old geezer truly felt at home… a small den, bathroom, and two bedrooms. They were all sparse, dank, and dark… but so familiar, and still so inviting. Nothing had really changed. A little love, a little care, and these rooms could be good as new, and as full of life as they used to be. It would take some time, but Sanji was confident it could be done.

"You done up there, brat?!" Zeff bellowed from the kitchen. He dared not ascend any higher. The rickety old staircase didn't exactly fill him with confidence. "I've seen all I need to see. I'm heading back to the car."

"Yeah, yeah, I'm coming!" Sanji called back, turning away from the broken window in his old bedroom. He jogged down the creaking stairs and caught up to Zeff just as he was leaving through the backdoor. Both men removed their masks once out amongst the fresh air again. "Ugh, clammy as hell in there…" Sanji complained.

"What did you expect?" Zeff asked, hobbling to his minivan. He opened the door on the passenger side and started to rummage through the glove compartment. "It's not so bad, though. Get rid of the mold…make some replacements…clear out the wildlife, and we'll be all set."

"You make it sound so easy, old man," said Sanji. He fished a cigarette from the breast pocket of his jacket and lit up.

"Trust me, kid, it won't be," Zeff replied. He pulled a small notepad and a pencil from the glove box. "We've got a lot to do. This is going to become very expensive very fast." Sanji didn't respond to that. He simply nodded in silent agreement.

"So did you call her yet" the seasoned chef asked with a grunt as he climbed into the vehicle…"that young lady with the orange hair?"

Sanji peered through the lowered driver side window. "Oh, Nami-swan? Ah, her hair truly is beautiful, isn't it?" he asked, swooning against the van. "Like the brightest fire in the darkest, loneliest night… Her radiance shines so brightly it puts even the sun to shame! Oh, my sweet, sweet, dearest Nami, how I long to see you again after all these years. I can only imagine gazing upon her beauty again with my own eyes!" he rambled, his usual, smoke-roughened voice going high and fluttery as he spoke of his old friend.

Zeff watched the spectacle with his usual deadpan expression, his arms crossed over his chest. "Are you done? Stop wiggling like an idiot and call her, already. I want to talk to her about our finances, damn brat."

Sanji bristled. "See? This is exactly why you don't have any luck with the ladies, old man! You don't know how to appreciate them!" he griped, pointing an accusatory finger through the window.

A subtle, but entirely smug grin spread beneath Zeff's braided mustache. "Yeah, right. You wish you had my luck with women, dumbass." It never failed. The look on Sanji's face whenever he was rendered speechless would never, ever get old. His son scoffed and grumbled a quiet 'whatever' after regaining his composure.

Fifteen minutes, two phone calls, three poems, and one serenade later, a meeting with Nami was scheduled to take place at the famed Café Du Monde at noon. It was a hometown favorite. Sanji happily recalled the days when Zeff would take him there and treat himself, Nami, and Usopp to delicious beignets piled high with powered sugar. Those were the times…

Now that he was back in New Orleans, Sanji couldn't wait to see his old friends again. It had been ages. He grew tired of communicating with them through the internet or over the phone. Facebook photos were nothing compared to being able to see their faces in person.

Sanji weaved through the lunchtime traffic, another smoke tucked between his lips. The French Quarter was as beautiful as ever. It was lively and bustling with people. There were hundreds of faces he hadn't seen before. It was like a whole new place, but at the same time, it was completely the same. Zeff paid little attention to the sights and sounds. The older man was busying himself with writing something down that Sanji couldn't identify. He was probably making a to-do list.

They were both eager to get the repairs underway. That couldn't happen until they took a long, hard look at their money situation, though. There was no better to person to help them with that than Nami. Despite her age, the girl was a specialist when it came to two things… no, three things: the weather, stealing, and money. Well, specialist might have been the wrong word…more like… fanatic.

It was Nami's dream to become a meteorologist, though she often expressed the desire to be an accountant. She also joked around with the notion of being a professional thief from time to time. Sanji had a sneaking suspicious that maybe that wasn't as much of a joke as she claimed it to be. Oh, well. No matter the career she chose, Sanji knew his beautiful Nami-swan would excel. Her insatiable hunger for success told him that much.

Sanji parked as close to the cafe as he could upon arrival. He and Zeff walked the remaining distance to the outdoor sitting area. It didn't take Sanji long to catch sight of the familiar head of orange hair. Nami was early. The slender female stood from her seat with a big smile when she spotted him at about the same time. "Sanji! Hey!" she called, waving them over. Sanji's arms wiggled like noodles as he waved back.

Zeff observed stoically as pink hearts appeared and swirled around his son's head like the world's gaudiest halo. Sanji sped towards his friend as fast as his weakened knees could carry him. "Nami-swaaaaan!" he sang happily. The young chef obviously didn't care how many people turned to stare with either curiosity or annoyance. Zeff wouldn't have blamed the young lady if she turned and suddenly denied knowing who the hell he was.

Nami did nothing of the sort, however. She kindly allowed herself to be hugged by her old schoolmate and even returned the gesture. "It's been so long. I was starting to think you weren't ever coming back!" she laughed, "How in the world do you still look the same after eight years?"

Sanji grinned widely with stars twinkling behind his one exposed eye. His throat refused to form coherent words. He just couldn't believe how lovely Nami had become. She was always cute, but now… Holy crap! She looked beautiful in that tight, white sundress and royal-blue bolero… Her legs were so long, and she had an overall gorgeous figure… and her breasts! Sanji's spine was slowly turning to jelly as her "marshmallow heaven" pressed against his chest.

"Uh… Sanji?" asked Nami as she realized how long their hug was lasting. "You can, um, let go now…" she said, patting his shoulder gently. Blissful giggling was all she received in response. Nami quickly realized what was going on and her face darkened. A nearby mother managed to cover her son's eyes just before a loud "POW" rang throughout the dining area.

A sheepish Sanji and a mildly amused Zeff now sat across from Nami at the circular table. There was a knot roughly the size of a grapefruit decorating the side of the young chef's head. Nami glowered at Sanji, her fingers tapping against her arm irritably as they rested across her chest. "You really haven't changed, pervert," she said through clenched teeth.

Sanji chuckled nervously. "Please forgive me, Nami, dear. I have no idea what possibly came over me," he said, reaching up to rub the back of his head in an apologetic manner. He was careful to avoid the throbbing "goose egg".

"Sure you don't," Nami spat before looking to Zeff. Her expression instantly brightened and her posture relaxed. "It's nice to see you again, Mr. Le Rouge. You're looking well." She addressed the older man respectfully. "Happy to be back in our little slice of paradise?"

"Mm, yes, thank you. I'm glad to be back home at last," Zeff replied, rubbing the right side of his mustache. "How are you and your sister doing? I don't think I've seen the two of you since your mother's funeral… Are you both still in school?"

"Yes, sir. We're doing great. I graduated high school in May and Nojiko is studying to obtain her degree in agricultural business. I'll have to tell her that you asked about her," Nami said, "I know she'll be surprised."

"Didn't you tell me that you've got an internship at a broadcasting station, Nami-swan?" Sanji asked. He figured now was a decent time to reenter the conversation. Nami didn't seem quite so hostile.

"Yup, in the weather department, too!" Nami said, sounding very pleased. "I couldn't believe my luck. I get to work very close to the meteorologists there. It's awesome, but I haven't decided whether or not to pursue a career in that field just yet… I'm still very interested in accounting." She smiled almost slyly.

Sanji was all too familiar with that look. It was the expression Nami got whenever she had money on the brain. He chuckled, "You've always been talented with that sort of thing. It's one of the reasons we wanted to meet with you today, right, old man?" He turned to Zeff, who nodded.

"As Sanji has probably told you, we want to get The Baratie` up and running again, but first, some major repairs have got to be made," Zeff explained. "I'd like you to take a look at our finances and help manage our spending. Your input on prices, deals, and certain decisions would also be appreciated. I'm willing to pay for your assistance."

Nami smiled and nodded with understanding. "I'd be happy to help. I know there are tons of people who would love to see The Baratie` restored," she replied, "Let's order and talk more over sweets. Sound good?"

"Mm," Zeff agreed with a simple grunt of confirmation.

Sanji perked up. "Beignets? Oh, hell yeah," he said. The young man wasted no time thrusting his arm in the air to flag down a waiter. "Hey! A little service over here!" A passing waiter approached and happily took down their requests: three orders of beignets, two cups of Au Lait (one with ice for Nami), one cup of black, decaffeinated coffee, and some extra napkins. The waiter left to fill their order in a hurry.

"While we wait, tell me about some of the things The Baratie` needs the most," Nami said, folding her hands beneath her chin. "I'm assuming there's flood damage?"

"Yeah, some. Considerably less than we expected, but bad enough. There is mold along the walls and on the floor in the dining area, as well as some in the kitchen where rain poured through the ceiling," Sanji said. "That's definitely something we need to take care of first."

"Yeesh, no kidding. That mold has got to go before carpenters or plumbers can come in… Hmm, it shouldn't run more than ten or twelve dollars per square foot, but that's just a rough guess. I'll have to check on that," Nami said, taking her smartphone from her purse. She typed a quick note. "What else?"

"The roof is partially collapsed over the kitchen," said Zeff. "The damage from that reaches almost all the way to the front door. It'll have to be replaced."

"Roofing…" Nami murmured, tapping the digital keys on her phone. "Anything else going on in the kitchen?"

"Animals," Sanji said simply, making Nami look up with wide eyes. "And probably bugs…" he added with a shudder. It was well known among their friends that Sanji was deathly afraid of anything remotely insect related. Nami shared the same phobia.

The girl looked disgusted as she typed another note. "Exterminator…and/or… animal control," she said, "We'll take care of that after the mold. It's definitely one of the more pressing issues, I think."

"Excuse me…" came an unfamiliar voice. Everyone at the table looked up at see that lunch had arrived. "Your order," the waiter deadpanned. It wasn't the same man as before. This server was younger, seemingly less experienced, and about ten times less interested…He also had green hair. Sanji and Nami both blinked.

The young man was around their age, maybe a year or so older. He had light-bronze skin, dark eyes, and was wearing the standard Café du Monde uniform. From the way it fit him, Nami suspected that he was hiding quite a body underneath. He would have actually been pretty handsome if it hadn't been for what was obviously a dye-job gone wrong. Seriously, green hair?

Sanji was studying the server as well. Had he seen this guy someplace before? The little red light flashing in his memory told him, 'yes.' Sanji was able to spy the waiter's nametag when he leaned down to place their orders before them. It read "Zoro" in all capital letters. Sanji couldn't contain a snicker, which made the other young man cut an eye towards him.

"Is something wrong, sir?" the waiter asked in a tone that screamed, 'Say the wrong thing and I'll deck you.'

Sanji was far from intimidated, though the deepness of the man's voice nearly sent chills down his spine… and strangely enough, not the bad kind of chills. "It's nothing," Sanji half lied, "Just thought I recognized you from somewhere…"

The server looked Sanji up and down, perhaps assessing whether or not he knew him. This Zoro guy must not have recalled him, or if he did he wasn't letting on as picked up the now empty serving tray. "Please enjoy," he said before turning and walking away.

Sanji snorted once the waiter was out of earshot. "What a jerk. He didn't even ask if we wanted anything else," he complained as he snagged a few napkins to spread across his lap. Any powdered sugar accidentally spilled against his black suit would end up making him look like some kind of reverse Dalmatian. He couldn't have that.

"Did you really know him, Sanji?" Nami asked curiously. She picked up her cup of iced Au Lait and had a sip.

"Yeah… Well, kind of… I think so," the blonde male replied, "I know I've seen him somewhere, but I can't place him. Was probably a while ago…"

"More importantly," Zeff interrupted, "What do you think about The Baratie` so far, Nami? From the things we've listed, how much do you estimate it'll cost?"

The orange-haired female expressed a small, unsure groan. "Well… It's hard to say, really," she said, putting down her drink. She took her smartphone and showed Zeff the notes she made. They looked a lot like his own. "I'm sure there's more to do, but for these tasks being top priorities… I think we're looking at around six or seven thousand dollars."

Sanji held in a wince. That was a lot, but then… they had a lot to do, and even more afterwards. Seven thousand dollars would be easy enough, he figured… It wouldn't break them, but it would definitely cripple their finances. He knew Zeff wouldn't want to begin the repairs and then stop… No, he would want to start and proceed to the finish. Would that be possible?

Nami looked concerned for her friend and his foster-father. The expressions on their faces were a little grimmer than she'd hoped. "Do you have it…?" she asked at length. "If not, we can revise a little…start smaller, maybe?"

"No, no, we have it," Zeff said, "But that's very close to all we have…It won't take long to go over our limit after that's gone," he added, breathing a small sigh. "It's a start, though, and that's good enough for right now."

"Yeah…" Nami said softly, placing her phone down on the table again. "For the rest of the repairs, have you considered taking out a loan? You could always raise the money, too." A hopeful smile slowly grew on Nami's face. "After all, this is your cooking we're talking about. Have a showcase or a fundraiser and I bet you could make some fast cash, and lots of it."

Zeff crossed his arms and expressed a thoughtful hum. "Yes… I think that is about the best we can do. The fundraiser, I mean. Taking out a loan is the last thing I want. It took me a lot o' years to get out of debt. I'm not itchin' to start over," he said, "We'll pick a location and get everything arranged."

"Hmm…" Nami murmured. She pressed her right thumb against her lower lip as she thought. It didn't take long for an idea to spring to her mind. Sanji could practically see the light bulb appear above her head. "I think I might have somewhere for you to start," Nami said, "Sanji, you're still into anime, right?"

Zeff groaned. "Unfortunately. Don't get him started, please."

Sanji ignored his father. "Yeah, I am… I've kinda fallen behind lately, though, with the move and all," Sanji replied, "Why do you ask?"

"There is an anime convention in town this weekend. Nojiko and I are going. It's called RyouriCon. It's pretty different than the usual ones. Not only is it all about anime, but as it's name suggests, it's going to have a lot to do with food, too. A cook at this great suishi-bar around the corner from my place was telling me all about it about two weeks ago. Apparently their restaurant has reserved a spot in one of the large convention halls," Nami explained. "You guys should totally do the same. You'll get some great exposure. Give away from free samples or sell quick meals to the con-goers. I definitely suggest looking into it, at least."

By this point, Sanji was very intrigued. His visible eye had grown wide as he imagined the possibilities. Anime and cooking… It was two of his absolute favorite things rolled into one event. This was perfect. There was no way he was going to allow Zeff to ignore something this freakin' epic.

The seasoned chef eyed his son with equal amounts of amusement and exasperation. If the look on Sanji's face was any indication, it was pretty obvious what they would be doing this weekend. "Alright, we'll be there," Zeff sighed.

Thursday

Sanji and Zeff wandered the isles of one of the best local supermarkets. Their fresh produce never ceased to impress. The younger blonde pushed along a blue and gray shopping cart that was almost completely full. There were fresh green vegetables, meat, seafood, spices, and dessert fixings… the works. The food in question would not only stock the fridge inside their temporary home, but would also help serve the swarms of hungry con-goers they would no doubt encounter on Friday.

It was a stroke of luck that Nami told them about RyouriCon when she did… There had only been two spots left up for grabs in the convention's dining hall. Sanji, with Nami's help, was able to get in touch with the convention chairman, who happened to be a New Orleans native, that same day. Their attendance was secured and paid for. Now all that remained were the preparations.

Zeff spent most of Wednesday planning their menu. He knew that there would be droves upon droves of young people on the go. They would be buzzing all over the place, hyped up on energy drinks and those little stick cookies… What were they called…Pocky? Zeff was pretty sure that was the correct name. Hardly nourishing, in his opinion. They would need good food, food to keep them going…meals that weren't filled with sugar. It could be done.

"I'm gonna be the oldest buzzard at this damn thing, aren't I?" Zeff asked Sanji as their shopping spree continued.

His son snickered and didn't bother to hide it. "Most likely," he answered, "But probably not by much. You'd be surprised how many people over forty attend these conventions. Remember that one guy I told you about in Chicago? He was dressed as the butler from Hellsing. I swear he had to be at least sixty."

"Aw, hell, which one was that? You tell me about so much of that crap it all starts to run together. Well, regardless, I sure as hell am not dressing up," Zeff assured. "None of those characters look like real people, anyhow."

Sanji scoffed. "You're such a wet frickin' blanket. We know that. Doesn't make it any less fun, though."

"And how would you know, brat? You've never dressed as anything other than an idiot," Zeff replied with a smirk.

Sanji's curled eyebrow twitched. "Shove it, ya old geezer, before I make you lug all of this food by your damn self," the teen shot back.

"I'd still get it done faster than you," Zeff countered, "Now hurry up. We've got everything. It's time to get out of here."

"Whatever," Sanji grumbled. He cursed under his breath and scowled all the way to the checkout isles. His frown lifted when he noticed the familiar face and equally alarming hair color of the waiter from the other day. Sanji paused and stared with a confused expression.

Zeff stopped next to his son. "What now, brat?"

"That guy working line three… He's from the café. What the hell is he doing here?" Sanji wondered out loud.

The old seadog turned and cast a discrete glance at the person in question. "I'm not a rocket scientist, but I'd say he works here," he said to his son, earning a glare in response to his smart-alecky comment. "Would you move your ass?" Zeff pressed. "We getting in line or not?"

Sanji huffed and didn't answer. He pushed his basket to the third lane, wordlessly starting to load the groceries onto the conveyor belt. As always, he made sure to start with the heaviest items and things that weren't in danger of being squashed. Sanji watched the green-hair clerk out of the corner of his eye. Where in the world had he seen this guy before? He just couldn't figure it out.

The middle-aged man ahead of Sanji paid for his minimal things and the cook overheard Zoro send him on his way with a dry, 'Have a good one.' Sanji rolled his eyes. This dude really wasn't cut out for customer service. He instantly regretted choosing Zoro's lane. Why had he done that, anyway?

"Hello, how are you today?" Zoro droned, sounding agonizingly robotic.

Sanji wanted to smack his forehead. "Just great," he sighed. He resumed unloading his groceries. Zoro paid him little attention. He simply scanned and then bagged everything as it reached him in silence. Sanji felt like he should attempt to make some sort of conversation… Maybe point out that they had just seen each other not even forty-eight hours prior?

Something told him that would be a little weird, though, like stating the obvious. Sanji was certain Zoro hadn't forgotten him in such a short amount of time. Then again… the guy didn't seem too interested in much of anything. What were the odds that he had made some sort of impression? Why was he even thinking about this?

Sanji considered just talking to Zeff instead. Maybe some topic would catch the stoic clerk's attention and he would comment… Maybe Sanji could even ask his opinion? Alas, the geezer was no longer at his side. Sanji looked around and quickly saw the top of Zeff's ridiculously tall chef's hat over by the magazine rack. Figures. The old man was never around when he needed him… well, except that one time. Sanji growled inwardly. What the hell was wrong with him? Why was he trying so hard to talk to this complete stranger? It didn't make any sense.

"Could you bring your basket around, please?" asked the clerk. His deep voice successfully brought Sanji out of the private confines of his own mind. He hadn't even realized that his shopping cart was totally empty and that he was just standing there.

"Oh, uh, sure… Sorry. Spaced out," Sanji said. He looped his fingers through the holes in the cart and pulled it to the end of the register. Zoro fell silent again as he started to transfer the grocery bags into the basket. Sanji bit the inside of his lip as that annoying urge to speak poked the back of his head. He decided that he couldn't ignore it any loner. "So… how long have you worked at Café du Monde?"

Zoro looked up from his task. "About two months," he answered simply.

Sanji pressed on. "How do you like it?"

The green-haired man shrugged, sitting another bag into the cart. "Not so bad. Have to spend a lot of time on my feet, kinda like here. It's fine, though. I like the exercise," he replied, pressing a button on the register's keyboard. "Your total is $318.42."

Sanji nodded. "Right." He retrieved his wallet from his back pocket, paid, and then tucked the case away again.

Zoro tore the receipt from the printer once it finished. "Have a good one," he said, offering the slip to the awaiting blonde.

"Yeah, thanks." Sanji slid the receipt into his pocket also and grabbed hold of the basket's handles. "See ya later." He could think of nothing else to say.

"Yep," came the confident response Sanji didn't expect.

Friday

The convention activities were set to officially begin at 10am. Thankfully, the parlor given to the food vendors wouldn't be accessible to the attendees until noon. This provided more than enough time for all the cooks and caterers to set up shop. The convention staff and some of the volunteers even assisted with the heavy lifting. Zeff was more than willing to accept their help. His back was no where near as strong as it once was, and though he never would have admitted to such a thing, he would have hated for Sanji to do it all. If only Patty and Carne were more reliable.

Sanji took a moment to admire the progress of the other vendors occupying the large room. There were chefs specializing in so many different types of cuisine. Three different sushi stalls, a cook from one of the better-known Thai restaurants, two soul-food booths, one for classic Cajun specialty dishes, two stalls dedicated to nothing but Japanese ramen, and of course, the one booth for The Baratie`.

Sanji hoped that their unique blend of French and Mediterranean dishes would draw the attention of the crowd. Their menu would consist mostly of on-the-go food, but the quality of the items would surely impress. Sanji was confident of that. Even if they didn't get much in the way of donations or business, the advertising and raised awareness of their intended comeback would be enough.

A couple of con-workers brought in their portable kitchenette via a dolly, and Zeff got to work on the minor assembly required before use. Meanwhile Sanji another worker went to fetch two foldaway tables from their van. They would serve as handy display stations for their prepared goods. Sanji felt excited. He was looking forward to the experience, as well as to seeing how the attendees would respond to their cooking.

Sanji jogged back inside the convention hall with the second table underneath his arm. His helper was hot on his heels. "Hey, old man, where do you want these?" he asked, "In front of the stall?"

It took Zeff a moment to answer. Sanji arched his right eyebrow. The salty old chef seemed to be looking at something at the other end of the room. Sanji wasn't all that curious, but he was eager for a response. "Oi, geezer! Where do you want the tables?"

Zeff gave an exasperated huff before speaking. "I heard you the first time, damn brat. No, I don't want the tables in front of the stall. I want one on either side. That's where we'll be standing, so it'll be easier to keep an eye on things. It'll also keep the more hyper youngsters at bay, prevent too much crowding." Satisfied with the response, Sanji did as Zeff instructed. With the tables set up, all that remained was for them to start the food preparations.

Sanji grabbed one of the bags of fresh produce. He swiftly sorted its contents upon the counter while Zeff started rinsing and slicing some green and orange bell peppers. "Did ya see that kid?" asked the geezer.

Kneeling next to the other unpacked bags of grocery, Sanji looked up with confusion. "Everyone here is a kid compared to you. Mind telling me which one?"

"The one with green hair, smart-ass," Zeff clarified. He used his knife to motion across the room to one of the sushi stalls. Sanji sprang to his feet with a little more eagerness than he'd intended. He was utterly shocked, but the old man wasn't mistaken. There was Zoro, wearing a black shirt that had the word "staff" written on the back in big white letters. Of all the places Sanji didn't expect the guy to pop up, helping out at an anime convention was definitely high on his list. Zeff shook his head as Sanji abandoned the groceries and went to bother the other young man. He wondered if that curly-browed idiot had finally remembered him…

Sanji didn't even realize he was approaching the sushi booth until he noticed that it, and Zoro, seemed to be getting closer. This had the potential to be awkward, but he turned retreat down. It would be far too obvious. "Hey," Sanji said to the moss-headed teen. It was the best he could do.

Zoro looked up from his current task of cleaning the sushi-bar's chalkboard menu. He seemed genuinely surprised to see him, Sanji thought. "Oh, hey," Zoro said in return. His tone was casual, but had a little more interest than usual. "What are you doing here?"

"Same as everybody else in here," Sanji replied, pointing to the Baratie` stall with his thumb. "Me and the geezer over there are trying to raise a little money, trying to restore our old restaurant."

Zoro glanced towards the booth and nodded in understanding. There was a look of recognition in his dark eyes that Sanji found a little puzzling, but he didn't comment. "So… you an anime fan?" asked the blonde. Zoro's relaxed posture turned slightly defensive.

"Yeah, so?" he asked as a frown creased his brow.

Sanji crossed his arms. "Geez, relax, would ya?" he said, "That was a question, not a criticism. Anyway, so am I." He noticed Zoro relax again, so he continued. "I plan on catching some of the evening events after we shut things down for the day. You… gonna be working the whole weekend?"

"Yeah, until Sunday afternoon. I think the closing ceremonies are around five," Zoro replied with a shrug. "You?"

"We're here just for today and tomorrow," Sanji said. He thought for a moment. "You doin' anything later? We could go—" His words halted as he realized how strange his next words were going to sound. It wasn't like he was asking the guy out. That was just absurd. Sanji cleared his throat and tried again. "What I mean is, you should come hang out with me and my friends… if you're not busy."

Yeah, that was a little better.

Zoro pondered this. "Fine with me," he said finally. "I have to work until nine, but if you're still around, I'll probably run into you again. I have some friends coming, too. More than likely, you'll meet them before you close down. Luffy and Ace are no doubt gonna attack every food stall in here. Well… mostly Luffy."

Sanji grinned. "Sounds good," he said before turning to head back to Zeff and their booth. "See you later."

Zoro replied with a simple, "Yep."

This time, Sanji expected it.

To Be Continued…

BlackRoseVixen05: Greetings, reader! :3 Thank you so much for tuning in for the first chappy of my new fic. I sincerely hope that you will stick around for the rest of it. If you don't mind, please leave a review for me? I'd love to know what you thought. The encouragement is nice, too! Thanks! See ya soon! 3 Ja ne!