It had only been two days since the Straw Hat crew had left Wano and already they had re-familiarised themselves with the Sunny and one another; it had been a while since they’d all had some downtime together. It was nice, really nice, to have everyone together again. Even the marimo’s presence couldn’t bring Sanji’s jovial mood down.
Or so that’s what he thought…
“What the fuck are you doing in my kitchen?” Sanji said upon entry into said room.
Zoro jumped, the knife in his hand falling with a clang to the counter.
“And touching my good knives!?”
“Damn it, cook. Give a man a warning first,” Zoro said.
But Sanji just saw red. “Give a man a warning!? What the hell are you doing in my kitchen and with my knives!”
“I’m just sharpening them for you, jeez. Don’t get your knickers in a twist.”
He was telling the truth; Sanji spotted the sharpening stone by Zoro’s other hand. Still, it was unnecessary. He walked right up to Zoro and snatched the stone and knife.
“I don’t need you to do that,” Sanji said, eyeing Zoro suspiciously. “Why would you anyway…?”
Zoro shrugged. “Bored.”
Sanji’s eyes narrowed on him. “Bullshit,” he said. Though, he couldn’t think of any plausible explanation for the behaviour.
“Whatever. Believe what you want,” Zoro said, as he left the kitchen so casually as if he hadn’t just been doing something out of the norm. Sanji lifted his knife to inspect it. It appeared in good nick. Sanji supposed he shouldn’t be surprised; Zoro had plenty of experience sharpening his swords, after all.
He put the knife back into its block and out of curiosity, pulled out a different one. He held it up for inspection; it didn’t look any different, however, when he tested it out on an apple—he was planning on making fruit salad for Nami and Robin—it was obviously freshly sharpened.
Sanji repeated this process for all his knives, only to discover they were all in good nick and had all been sharpened for him.
Huh. What the hell? What was the marimo thinking? What were his real intentions? Was it a prank of some description? A pretty weird prank, if so… He turned and gazed around the room. Was there a visual den den mushi set up to record him? Sanji looked through all of the spots where one could potentially hide, but came up with nothing.
He sighed as he leaned against the counter. Maybe the swordsman was just trying to be nice?
Sanji chuckled at the thought. No. That definitely wasn’t it.
— —
Zoro grumbled to himself about stupid cooks as he exited the kitchen to the deck. It was true, he had sharpened all Sanji’s knives, but it wasn’t without reason.
Something had been off. Not with Zoro, no. But with the cook. It had started at Whole Cake Island, continued to Wano, and still lingered now. Zoro wasn’t sure how to describe it, but he just knew that it unsettled him.
There were little things Zoro had noticed. A forced smile when Sanji interacted with Nami or Robin (that was unheard of). On edge body language like the man was ready to fight at a moment’s notice; a restless tremble in his usually steady hands when he had nothing to fidget with; increased standoffishness and not just with Zoro; and more smoking. (Not that Zoro was judging. It was merely an observation.)
And that wasn’t even getting into that whole ‘kill me if necessary’ moment they’d had. No. There was a lot going on.
The thing was though, it was as if Sanji didn’t even acknowledge these things himself. He seemed happy to be back with the crew, but there was obviously other shit going on too, beyond the surface.
Zoro wouldn’t usually make it his business but seeing the cook like this was distracting. Something had kept nagging at Zoro, saying ‘help him. He’s nakama, isn’t he?’ And well as much as it pained Zoro to put aside his pride, the nagging voice was right. Sanji was nakama. And Zoro would admit, begrudgingly, he did care. He cared deeper than Sanji or the rest of the crew were aware, if he were to be honest.
So, Zoro’s plan? It was nothing extravagant. He just thought he would do some little things to help the damn cook. Little things that he hoped informed the cook that he had a family right here too, with him on the Sunny. Because Zoro had some sneaking suspicions about what was the source of Sanji’s troubles, and it wasn’t his Straw Hat nakama.
For dinner that evening, Zoro set the table and borrowed a vase of flowers from Robin, placing it in the middle of the table. Robin had raised an eyebrow, curiously, but remained quiet as she handed it over. Zoro didn’t see what the big deal about flowers was, but he knew the cook loved pretty things like that.
It was worth it, too, once Zoro saw the genuine moment of delight light up Sanji’s face. Sanji lifted the flowers to his face, taking in the smell.
“Robin-chan, you shouldn’t have!” he said, twirling his way over to said woman.
Robin smiled. “And I didn’t. I can’t take credit as it wasn’t my idea.”
Sanji frowned a little. “Whose idea then? Nami-san’s?”
Robin hummed, her fingers tapping along the dining table. “Whose indeed.”
Sanji nodded slowly at the cryptic reply. “Well, in any case we know who it wasn’t,” he said, before his eyes roamed over to Zoro’s half of the table, where Zoro was joined by Luffy, Franky, and Brook. Zoro just rolled his eye before taking a swig from his bottle. Whatever. The flowers had had the intended outcome.
Throughout the rest of their meal, Zoro noticed Sanji’s eyes landing on the flowers several times; a small smile appeared on his face each time. Zoro grinned knowingly to himself. Whoever knew such a small gesture could warm Zoro himself up from the inside too.
He was glad it worked.
— —
Organising postal delivery while sailing the waters of the New World was not the easiest of things. In fact, Zoro would say it was a giant pain in the ass. To start, Zoro had to borrow Nami’s den den mushi (which in itself cost him practically an arm and a leg) to organise a carrier pigeon. The ordinary news coo gulls wouldn’t cut it for the distance he was mailing from. Secondly, he had to think of how he wanted to word his letter—he had never been the most eloquent, preferring actions over words. Fortunately for him, Robin helped without question—merely gave him one of her signature curious looks. And finally, he had to pay for the actual carrier pigeon (though that turned out cheaper than Nami’s den den mushi fare).
It was a costly venture that Zoro hoped paid off.
When the carrier pigeon returned a week later, Zoro reached into the bag the pigeon carried and withdrew an envelope addressed to ‘Little Eggplant’. Zoro chuckled and pocketed it. But there was something else in the bag too; it was a little pouch with seeds in it, with ‘for the pigeon’ written on it. Zoro shook his head. It was hardly surprising—Zeff and Sanji both would never see a soul starve—but it still left Zoro awestruck and reassured him he had done the right thing, writing to Zeff.
Withdrawing the pouch, Zoro poured the seeds onto the palm of his hand and let the pigeon feed on the seeds. He would get the bird some water too. Then he would decide how to deliver the letter that felt like it was burning a hole in his pocket.
— —
Sanji was having a bad day. Worse than normal. He’d had a good spell lately, just being back on board the Sunny and around the crew, the people he cared for. However, even in their presence there wasn’t much he could do to prevent the nightmares that plagued his sleep. It had gotten so bad that he’d given in and asked Chopper if there were any remedies he could give him for it. Chopper gave him some kind of herbal medicine and it had helped a decent amount, but not all the time. Chopper had also asked if Sanji wanted to talk about it; that some kind of talk therapy could be helpful. Sanji had immediately rejected that offer. Chopper had merely watched him, sadness in his eyes, prompting a quick exit from Sanji.
No, he didn’t need to talk about anything. Yeah, he had nightmares, but he could handle them. It wasn’t like the Vinsmokes posed a real threat outside of the confines of his mind. No, Sanji had proven that much. He was strong. Stronger than the Vinsmokes had anticipated. And it had been a validating, vindicating moment to look down at the wretched man known to many as his father, Vinsmoke Judge.
But then why… Why did Sanji dread going to sleep every night?
Once, he overheard Chopper talking about trauma to Robin. He’d been reading a new medical textbook on the subject Robin had brought him. Chopper had said something like, “You can’t change the past but there are ways you can learn to cope with it and mitigate the amount of control it has over your current life.” Robin had simply nodded for him to continue.
Sanji recalled serving Chopper and Robin their smoothies and leaving in a hurry. Because he’d blocked out the pain, repressed it all these years.
That was how he coped.
Only, it had never been an effective coping technique. The longer and longer it festered, undealt with, the worse it got. And after the events with Big Mom at Whole Cake Island, well, it was one teaspoon away from boiling over the pot.
It was a precarious situation. One that Sanji could no longer just pop a wooden spoon over to prevent the bubbles from spilling over. That technique wasn’t a solution if more water was being added; it was just a delay tactic, but even that could only delay for so long.
Avoidance and distraction were valid ways of coping with moments of high distress, but at some point the problem causing the distress needed to be addressed. Or that’s what Chopper had told him when he’d consulted him briefly about the nightmares. Sanji knew Chopper was right, but knowing something and implementing something were two completely different beasts.
Sanji sighed as he stirred the butternut pumpkin soup he was making. He was grateful for having the kitchen to himself. It was his space and he appreciated it immensely. Cooking nourished him. Kept him focused and clear-minded. One couldn’t afford to be distracted while cooking—well, Sanji would probably be fine, it was second nature to him, but he’d seen one too many incidents on the Baratie that happened to distracted cooks in training. Not good didn’t even begin to cover it.
The door to the kitchen opened and in came Zoro.
“Lunch isn’t ready yet,” Sanji said, hoping he didn’t get another marimo-induced headache.
“Not here for lunch,” Zoro said.
Sanji sighed and turned his attention back to the stove. “You’re not getting any more beer either. We’re running low as it is.”
“Yeah, yeah. Nami told me to pass this onto you,” Zoro said, flashing an envelope before placing it on the dining table. “Probably billing you for your annoying behaviour.”
Sanji twitched. “Fuck you too.”
Zoro just flashed him a smirk before leaving the area.
Curiosity getting the best of him, Sanji quickly grabbed the envelope from the table.
A grin emerged on his face as he read the words ‘Little Eggplant’ on the envelope. There was only one person that could be from. Sanji quickly flipped it over and opened the flap.
Old man Zeff at the Baratie huh? Now there was a welcome thought. How was the old man doing anyway? Were the new hires still causing trouble? Well, they couldn’t do a worse job than Luffy did, Sanji reasoned. The memory of Luffy breaking all the dishes there brought a chuckle to Sanji’s lips.
The first item Sanji withdrew from the envelope turned out to be a photograph. At the centre was Zeff with his arms around Patty and Carne on either side of him. A few other staff members Sanji vaguely recognised stood with them too. They were all standing in the kitchen—it looked like it hadn’t changed much since his departure.
Even Zeff looked the same, save for some extra wrinkles around his eyes, but he was actually smiling in this photo. Sanji wondered how the hell the Baratie crew managed that.
Sanji placed the photo on the dining table; he planned to stick it up somewhere in the kitchen. Turning his attention back to the envelope, he realised there was still a letter inside. He pulled it out.
Dear Little Eggplant,
Enjoy this recipe.
Zeff
P.S. Your friend is a good mosshead.
Sanji quirked an eyebrow at the last sentence, but quickly dismissed it to look at the recipe on the other side of the paper. Sanji recognised it immediately and a grin broke out on his face. It was Zeff’s signature spicy pasta dish that Sanji loved but had never been taught to make.
Scanning over the recipe, he was surprised to find it was easier than he had ever thought. But that raised a few questions. Why had Zeff held off teaching him it? And why now was he finally passing on the recipe? Sanji’s stomach plummeted. Zeff wasn’t unwell was he?
Reading through it properly, Sanji located a comment right at the bottom of the page.
I planned to share this with you once you found the All Blue. However, Patty made a good point about how good food should be shared with friends, and well, I think your friends are pretty deserving. Enjoy.
Sanji knew what he would be making for dinner that evening.
— —
Zoro was smug. Maybe smug was the wrong word; it was too self-serving. No, Zoro was content. After dropping Zeff’s letter off to Sanji just before lunch time, he hadn’t seen the smile disappear off Sanji’s face all day. He appeared very cheerful, even humming while he was serving up their dinner plates. It made something in Zoro’s chest blossom.
It wasn’t that Zoro wanted to change Sanji or invalidate his trauma. It was simply that Zoro wanted Sanji to be comfortable; to know that he was safe and had support from his nakama current and former.
“So, this is a new recipe I just learned today,” Sanji declared after placing the last plate (Luffy’s) on the dining table. “It’s a spicy pasta dish, but I made a mild version as well,” he said, looking at Chopper. Chopper smiled and lifted his fork. “Enjoy!” Sanji said before sitting down at his spot at the table.
The crew devoured their dinner, but Zoro watched Sanji the whole time, his eye only glancing away when he thought he was caught. Sanji made the most interesting expressions when eating, especially if it was something new, or in this case something he hadn’t had in a long time. The way his lips quirked up in delight; the way his eyebrows shot up in surprise; it was very endearing.
Zoro felt a pair of his eyes on him, though, and glanced up to see Nami watching him.
“So, Sanji-kun,” she said, her voice going that deliberately sweet way that meant trouble. She didn’t take her eyes off Zoro. “Where did you learn this recipe?”
Sanji chuckled. “As if you wouldn’t know, my beautiful Nami-san! It arrived in the letter from Zeff.”
Nami turned to Sanji. “What letter from Zeff?”
Zoro choked on his pasta. He gave Nami’s foot a nudge under the table, but she didn’t react.
“The one you had mosshead over there deliver to me.”
Zoro could feel all eyes on him while he remained focused on studying his dinner plate.
Everyone was waiting for Zoro to respond, but instead he froze.
When he finally, slowly, looked across to Sanji and their eyes connected, all he saw was the transformation of the cook’s facial features. The curve of a smile turned upside down, while his eyes transitioned through a myriad of emotions: surprise, confusion, hurt, before finally settling on anger.
“Outside. Now, marimo,” Sanji said, his voice leaving no room for argument as he stormed out the door.
Zoro glared at Nami. “What the hell!?”
Nami winked at him. “You can thank me later.”
That was one thing he most definitely would not be doing. He got up and followed Sanji outside.
Things had not gone as planned.
— —
To say Sanji was angry would be the understatement of the century. But it wasn’t just anger. He was confused; why would Zoro write to Zeff? Embarrassed; was this just some prank? And hurt; if not a prank, why would Zoro not talk to him first?
As soon as Zoro walked out the door leading to the deck, Sanji launched a kick directly at him. Zoro managed to grab two of his swords and deflect the attack just in time.
“What the hell, marimo?” Sanji said, swinging his leg for another attack.
Zoro guarded himself with his swords. “What do you mean what the hell! Someone does something nice for you and you can’t accept it unless it’s Nami or Robin?”
Sanji ducked low and swung his leg underneath Zoro, taking him out by the feet. Zoro landed on his butt.
“You know it’s not the same! I don’t need your pity!” he said, towering over Zoro.
“Good!” Zoro said, pushing Sanji back as he got to his feet. “Because I’m not giving it! I never was!”
Sanji backed off; he could feel a headache coming on. “Then why the hell would you do that!? I don’t understand.”
“Is it really that hard to understand?” Zoro sheathed his swords and turned away. “We’re nakama,” he said, as if that explained everything. He left the deck and headed up to the crow’s nest.
Sanji wanted to kick something. Hard. Instead he fumbled for a cigarette from his pocket and lit it as he walked over to the railing. He clenched and unclenched his fists. Stupid green haired mossheads, he thought.
He didn’t get it. Yeah, sure, it was as Zoro said—they were nakama. But what was Zoro thinking? For him to orchestrate something like this—it just seemed out of character. Maybe Zoro was changing? Or maybe… Maybe Sanji didn’t know Zoro as well as he thought he did, and well, wasn’t that a thought. They’d been through so much together, but maybe Sanji just had the wrong idea about him all along. The thought left him feeling like something was crawling up his throat. It was kind of suffocating.
Sanji had to take the smoke from his mouth to recover from the sudden coughing fit. Breathe, he told himself. After a few attempts at clearing his throat, he sighed. He could feel his hand trembling as he placed the cigarette back in his mouth. Fuck. He thought he was getting control of that. Obviously not.
He jumped on the spot when he felt a hand on his shoulder.
“It’s just me,” Nami said. “You okay?” When the heck did she get there?
Sanji forced a smile. “Yeah, fine, my lovely Nami-san.” But it sounded false even to his ears.
Nami’s eyebrows slightly fell. “You don’t have to pretend to be fine all the time, Sanji.”
Looking out at the calm ocean, Sanji took a puff from his smoke. “That obvious, huh?” And that’s when it clicked. “Even the mosshead is noticing?”
And that’s what frightened him the most. He could kind of deal with stupid nightmares about his equally stupid dad and siblings, but he couldn’t deal with being pitied by the swordsman. It didn’t make sense. But then again, irrational fears never did.
Nami gazed out to the sea too. “Yeah. He’s noticed for a while. We all have.”
“Guess I need to get my shit together then.”
“Sanji—No. It’s not like that. Not at all.” He could feel Nami’s gaze on him. “But I think being more honest with Chopper could be of help, even if just for your physical symptoms.”
Sanji let his head drop, gazing into his hands placed on the railing. “Yeah, you’re probably right.”
“I’m always right.”
Sanji just chuckled.
Nami stood up straight. “Go easy on Zoro. Courier pigeons to this part of the New World aren’t the cheapest, you know. He cares. A lot more than you think.”
Sanji turned to Nami, eyebrows furrowed. “Exactly how much did he spend?”
“Enough to be in my debt eternally.”
Sanji’s eyes widened. “That idiot,” he said, but it sounded fond, even from his lips.
Nami just grinned and patted Sanji on the shoulder. “The things we do for love.”
Sanji spluttered, choking on his cigarette once again. “Love!?”
Nami rolled her eyes. “Love comes in many forms, Sanji. You should know that.” And with that cryptic reply, she walked off.
Sanji looked up at the sky. The sun was setting, and the orange and red hues were slowly turning into something darker. Sanji always loved this time of evening.
Finishing his smoke, Sanji took a deep breath.
It was time to visit a mosshead.
— —
Zoro was in the middle of a set when he spotted a flash of blond hair pop into the crow’s nest. He tore his eye away and finished his set, feeling Sanji’s eyes on him the whole time.
After finishing, he placed the weight down and grabbed his bottle of water. He sat on the bench to take a drink. What he wasn’t expecting was a certain blond-haired cook to sit next to him, only a foot separating them.
“I’m uh. Sorry… for worrying you,” Sanji eventually said, once the silence got too much.
Zoro turned to stare at Sanji, unsure of what he heard. It was like he had spoken in a different language. “What?”
“Don’t make me repeat myself.”
Zoro grunted as he wiped his forehead with his gym towel. “You don’t need to say sorry.”
“Huh. Okay.”
An awkward silence lingered in the air between them.
“I’m not sorry,” Zoro said. And he really wasn’t. He wrote to Zeff for a very good reason, and with Robin’s help his letter had been succinct and had not revealed anything that wasn’t already public knowledge.
Sanji tapped his fingers along the bench. “Hm. I figured as much. So what exactly did you write to Zeff saying?”
Zoro exhaled, resting his back against the wall. “Just asked for a photo. Never asked for the recipe or whatever.”
Sanji quirked an eyebrow. “And he just agreed like that?”
“Well…”
“Out with it.”
Zoro smirked. “Told him it’d keep Luffy out of his hair for longer.”
Sanji laughed lightly and Zoro found himself joining in. “Anything to keep Luffy from putting another hole through the restaurant,” Sanji said. Zoro hummed in agreement.
With a sigh, Sanji turned his gaze on Zoro. “You really went all out for me, huh, shitty marimo? First the knife sharpening, then the flowers. Now Zeff.”
“We’re nakama,” Zoro said, meeting his gaze. He would repeat it as many times as necessary to get it through the cook’s head.
Sanji withdrew a new cigarette from his pocket. “So you keep saying.”
“Because it’s true.”
Sanji hummed, twiddling the cigarette between his finger and thumb. “Could give a guy the wrong idea, you know?” Sanji’s gaze shifted back to Zoro and Zoro immediately turned away.
Zoro could feel his cheeks heating up and his heartbeat accelerating. Keep cool, he told himself. But his body in fact did not keep cool. It apparently did not know how to when the cook was involved. But this wasn’t new. Not at all. Yeah, Zoro may have spent a lot of time and effort trying to ignore it, but that had been a losing battle. The heart wants what it wants, after all.
Zoro put his face into his hands. He was even thinking like the damn cook now! ‘The heart wants what it wants’? What in the world?
Sanji’s chuckles brought Zoro out of his self-inflicted exasperation.
“I was only teasing, marimo. Don’t have an internal crisis over me,” Sanji said, but there was a small waver in his voice. A waver that Zoro couldn’t stand for.
Without a moment of hesitation, Zoro grabbed hold of Sanji’s hand and looked him square in the eyes. “Goddamnit, Sanji. I like you.”
Sanji’s eyes widened and he blinked several times. His mouth opened once, then twice, but no words came out.
“It’s fine,” Zoro said. “I know you like women. But I just wanted you to know. That you’re kinda special… to me.”
Lifting their joint hands up, Sanji pressed a kiss to the back of Zoro’s hand. “You know bisexuality exists, right?”
“Er. Yes?” Zoro said, perplexed.
Sanji rolled his eyes and let go of Zoro’s hand. He wrapped his arms around Zoro’s shoulders instead and leaned in, pressing a kiss to Zoro’s lips.
Zoro, not one to idly sit back, quickly got the memo and kissed back.
When they parted, Sanji’s cheeks were a lovely shade of red. Zoro was sure his matched.
“You know what I was going to do for you next?” Zoro asked.
Sanji quirked an eyebrow. “No. Tell me.”
“I was gonna make you a meal I grew up with.”
Sanji did a double-take. “You know how to cook?”
Zoro rubbed the back of his head. “Well…”
Sanji gestured for Zoro to continue.
“No. Not really.”
Laughing, Sanji rested his forehead on Zoro’s shoulder. “What dish did you have in mind? I could make it.”
“Okonomiyaki,” Zoro said, slipping his hands around Sanji’s back. They felt good there; the position fit just right. Almost like they were made for one another.
— —
Ever since Sanji and Zoro’s little altercation a few weeks ago, Nami had noticed that Sanji was doing better. Not perfect of course, but who was these days? The fact that he was getting help from Chopper and letting his nakama support him was what made all the difference.
She’d also noticed the dynamic between Sanji and Zoro had changed somewhat. They were still hot-headed rivals getting into petty fights over booze or whatever, but there appeared to be an undercurrent of something else. Something deeper. Nami was pretty sure she knew what it was, if the hickeys on Zoro’s neck were anything to go by.
For dinner that evening, each of the Straw Hats were served up a plate of something that looked rather unappetising, if Nami was being honest.
“Um, Sanji. What is this we’re having tonight?” she asked, carefully.
“Okonomiyaki,” Zoro answered. “I made it.”
“His presentation needs work but don’t worry, it tastes great,” Sanji said, as he slid into the seat next to Zoro.
If the meal received Sanji’s approval, then that was good enough for Nami. She took a hesitant bite only to be surprised by the flavours. Given its not so great presentation, she hadn’t known what she was in for.
“It tastes great, Zoro!” Luffy said. “Maybe you should be a chef like Sanji!”
Sanji chuckled at that. “You should’ve tried it before I started helping.”
But Zoro didn’t react. He ignored the interaction, in favour of almost inhaling his food.
After dinner, most of the crew had left the dining table. Sanji left for a smoke and Nami spotted the way his hand dragged across Zoro’s back as he passed him. Very interesting.
“So, Zoro,” Nami said, as she crossed her arms from across the table.
“What?” Zoro said, his eye narrowing in on her.
“Tssk. Always so untrusting. I was just going to say… Are you ready to thank me yet?”
Zoro frowned. “For what? Being a pain in the ass?”
Oh, this was just too easy. “No. I mean for helping Sanji be a pain in your ass.”
Zoro’s face lit up bright red; Nami had never seen him so flustered. The usually stoic and unfriendly, sometimes resting bitch face he adorned was long gone. It was kind of cute knowing he had a larger range of expressions if given the right circumstances.
Instead of responding, Zoro grumbled something to himself and stood up, and started collecting some of the empty dishes.
Nami got up and carried the remaining dishes over to the sink with him. She cleared her throat, causing Zoro to shoot her a sceptical look.
“In an act of kindness by yours truly, I am reducing your debt by 0.05 percent,” Nami said.
“How kind,” Zoro said as he started cleaning the dishes, but his sarcastic tone wasn’t lost on Nami.
“What’s kind?” Sanji asked, joining them in the kitchen. He hip-checked Zoro out of the way of the sink and handed him the dish towel instead. Zoro took it without complaint and started drying the dishes. They were a natural team. Had been since the beginning, really, even if they tried to deny it.
“Oh, nothing really. I was just telling Zoro I’ve reduced his debt by 0.05%,” Nami said.
“Wow, that’s so kind, Nami-san,” Sanji said, grinning at her.
Nami hummed in agreement before grabbing her unfinished drink and headed to the door. “Thanks for dinner, Sanji, Zoro.”
As Nami exited the kitchen, she found herself grinning. Who would’ve guessed the two of them would actually end up together. The tension had always been there, but usually they were too stupid to realise it.
It was nice though. Maybe she could send Zeff a little letter herself, with a photo of the crew included. She drafted it in her head.
To Zeff,
Your little eggplant is thriving and is surprisingly compatible with a mosshead. Who would’ve thought, right? Enjoy the photo.
All the best,
Nami and the Straw Hat Pirates.
P.S.: Oh, I told the courier company you would pay the bill for this. Thanks!
P.P.S.: If you’re really mad I can send Luffy over to pay it back in the way of chores, like he did those years ago. Just let me know.