[One Piece] A Travel Every Morning
Title: A Travel Every Morning
Series: One Piece
Rating: K
Characters: Sanji
Word Count: 370; Flashfic
[Written for 31_days; July 28, 2006 - To go where all the strange ones go, dedicated to zauberer_sirin]
Sanji always wakes up a few hours earlier than everybody else, when the sunrise approaches and the ship stays quiet as a sleeping giant. He doesn’t have to open his eyes to know his body and mind are awake, because he recognizes the smell of the sea as the open dawn.
He gets out of bed and then the room; a resting bird on the deck hears his soft but creaking footsteps as he heads to the kitchen, and he gently shoos it away. There’s a reason why he prepares the ship crew’s breakfast in daybreak-food is remedy, food is his therapy, and he often uses it to fix his comrades’ crankiness in the morning.
He quietly whistles a tune as he picks out the fresh vegetables purchased from the market yesterday (for a cheap deal, too; he had succeeded in his attempt of price negotiations). The cabbages are kept in the coldest place on Going Merry and he won’t have it any other way.
He makes the salad according to each ship member’s taste-small slices of meat for Luffy, a swirling taste of white wine for Zoro, lots of carrots for Chopper, the most green leaves for Ussop, chopped fruits for Nami, and an exotic spice for Robin-and gives himself the most plain of all, a regular bowl with nothing special. He believes that a true cook should be humble at every cost and not provide lavish efforts, because it will stunt his goals. A cook lives to grant delicious food and he is doing just that.
By the time breakfast is ready, others finally get up from their sweet slumbers. Luffy and Zoro are always the last and hardest ones to awaken, but they welcome the food, even if they may not show their proper appreciation through their tired, half-dead morning faces.
While everybody is spread out across the structures of the ship, he usually eats his meals where he cooks them-that way the anticipation is still there, the tingling first taste in the mouth as clear as the time of dawn.
The time is 8:35A.M.; Sanji takes a bite of his new creation. “Mm, pretty good,” he says, smiling, “but it can improve.”
Series: One Piece
Rating: K
Characters: Sanji
Word Count: 370; Flashfic
[Written for 31_days; July 28, 2006 - To go where all the strange ones go, dedicated to zauberer_sirin]
Sanji always wakes up a few hours earlier than everybody else, when the sunrise approaches and the ship stays quiet as a sleeping giant. He doesn’t have to open his eyes to know his body and mind are awake, because he recognizes the smell of the sea as the open dawn.
He gets out of bed and then the room; a resting bird on the deck hears his soft but creaking footsteps as he heads to the kitchen, and he gently shoos it away. There’s a reason why he prepares the ship crew’s breakfast in daybreak-food is remedy, food is his therapy, and he often uses it to fix his comrades’ crankiness in the morning.
He quietly whistles a tune as he picks out the fresh vegetables purchased from the market yesterday (for a cheap deal, too; he had succeeded in his attempt of price negotiations). The cabbages are kept in the coldest place on Going Merry and he won’t have it any other way.
He makes the salad according to each ship member’s taste-small slices of meat for Luffy, a swirling taste of white wine for Zoro, lots of carrots for Chopper, the most green leaves for Ussop, chopped fruits for Nami, and an exotic spice for Robin-and gives himself the most plain of all, a regular bowl with nothing special. He believes that a true cook should be humble at every cost and not provide lavish efforts, because it will stunt his goals. A cook lives to grant delicious food and he is doing just that.
By the time breakfast is ready, others finally get up from their sweet slumbers. Luffy and Zoro are always the last and hardest ones to awaken, but they welcome the food, even if they may not show their proper appreciation through their tired, half-dead morning faces.
While everybody is spread out across the structures of the ship, he usually eats his meals where he cooks them-that way the anticipation is still there, the tingling first taste in the mouth as clear as the time of dawn.
The time is 8:35A.M.; Sanji takes a bite of his new creation. “Mm, pretty good,” he says, smiling, “but it can improve.”