Chapter 22: The Sea Restaurant - Sanji Starts to Reflect

Sanji didn't expect Takumi to come looking for him, and he certainly didn't expect that his arrival would cause him to drop a plate.

This really ticked him off.

"Hey! What do you think you're doing?" Sanji snapped, clearly annoyed. "Thanks to you, I just broke a plate!"

Takumi smirked. "Did I break it with my own hands?"

Sanji hesitated, his anger faltering. "Well, no…"

"Then what does that have to do with me?"

"Uh…" Sanji knew he was in the wrong, but he wasn't about to admit it easily. "Damn it! Everyone's always picking on me. Those stupid chefs, that old geezer, and now even you, an outsider! One day, I'm gonna make you all see me in a different light!"

Just then, Patty barged into the kitchen, fuming. "Some penniless fool dared to come to Baratie to eat! What a clueless idiot!"

The other chefs burst into laughter.

"Patty, did you throw him out the back door again?"

"Haha, classic Patty!"

Sanji, however, stopped washing dishes the moment he heard that Patty had thrown out a penniless customer.

Takumi watched him closely. From what he knew about Sanji, the kid was definitely going to sneak food to that person.

Sanji could never stand to see someone go hungry.

Sure enough, Sanji discreetly grabbed two pieces of bread and a bottle of milk.

When he noticed Takumi watching him, he put a finger to his lips, signaling for silence, and then slipped out of the kitchen when Patty and the others weren't looking.

Takumi quietly followed behind him.

Sanji headed to the back deck.

There, a man, gaunt and weak from hunger, lay hopelessly on the deck.

Without a word, Sanji placed the bread and milk beside the man.

"Eat up," Sanji said, sitting down next to him and watching closely.

The man weakly turned his head to look at Sanji, then, trembling, he grabbed the bread and milk, devouring them without hesitation.

When he finished, tears streamed down his face as he looked at Sanji. "Thank you, thank you so much. I thought I was going to die out here, starving on this endless sea."

Sanji grinned. "Feels good to have something in your belly, huh?"

The man nodded, a smile spreading across his face. "Yes, it feels amazing. I never realized how lucky I was just to have food. I don't even know how to thank you."

"No need to thank me," Sanji replied. "Food is a gift from nature. Just promise me that when you get back on your feet, you won't waste any of it."

"I promise!"

"Good," Sanji nodded, standing up to head back.

As he climbed the spiral staircase, Takumi was leaning against the wall by the second-floor landing.

As Sanji walked past him, Takumi spoke up. "Hot, fresh food beats dry bread any day, doesn't it?"

Sanji froze mid-step.

Takumi's words felt like a knife twisting in his chest.

"Hey! What do you know?" Sanji shot back, frustration lacing his voice. "I'd love to cook meals for the hungry, but the truth is, I can't cook worth a damn! That old geezer won't teach me, and it's driving me crazy!"

Takumi scoffed, "Hmph."

Sanji clenched his fists in anger. "You're laughing at me, aren't you? What gives you the right to laugh at me?"

"With your level of understanding, why would Zeff bother teaching you anything?"

"What!" Sanji was trembling with rage. "You want to fight, is that it?"

With that, Sanji lunged at Takumi, throwing a punch.

Takumi easily sidestepped.

Sanji's fist slammed into the wooden wall behind Takumi, making him wince and stomp his foot in pain.

Takumi just stood there, unimpressed.

It looked like this kid hadn't even started learning proper leg techniques yet…

Using his hands to fight? That was absurd for a chef.

A chef's hands were meant for cooking, nothing else.

A great chef fought with his legs.

Zeff understood this.

And one day, Sanji would too.

But for now, he was clueless.

As Takumi pondered this, a thought struck him.

Maybe this was the key to advancing his sign-in progress.

With that in mind, Takumi asked, "Does your hand hurt?"

Sanji grumbled, "Of course it does! What kind of question is that?"

Takumi chuckled, "Do you know why Zeff refuses to teach you how to cook?"

Sanji was taken aback, then scoffed. "How would I know what that old man's thinking? You're just an outsider. Don't tell me you think you know."

"I do know."

"What?" Sanji was stunned. "That's ridiculous. You've barely known that old geezer for a day. How could you possibly know?"

"What's your dream?"

"Why are you asking that?" Sanji was still annoyed, but he answered honestly. "I want to surpass that old geezer, and once he's gone, I'll set sail to find All Blue."

All Blue was Sanji's ultimate dream—a legendary sea where all the fish from the four seas came together. It was a paradise for chefs, a place where any ingredient imaginable could be found.

Sanji's eyes lit up as he spoke of it.

But Takumi remained indifferent, simply replying, "Oh."

That single word snapped Sanji back to reality. "What's with the dismissive 'oh'? What are you trying to say?"

"Anyone who spends all their time complaining has no right to talk about dreams."

"Ugh? You jerk! You don't know a thing about me!" Sanji clenched his fists and swung at Takumi again.

This time, Takumi didn't dodge. "Hands are a chef's most important tools. If you hurt them, are you planning to cook with your feet?"

Sanji's fist froze just inches from Takumi's face.

Takumi smirked, "Someone who can't even make an effort has no right to talk about dreams."

With that, Takumi walked away, ready to explore Baratie and get familiar with its layout.

He'd said what he needed to say.

In his experience, Sanji wasn't the type to be slow on the uptake.

He should figure it out soon enough.

Sanji looked down at his hands, then at Takumi's retreating back. "What were you trying to tell me with all that?"

Without turning around, Takumi answered calmly, "Figure it out yourself."

Sanji watched Takumi disappear from view, then stared down at his hands again.

Memories began to flood his mind.

Now that he thought about it, he had never seen Zeff use his hands in a fight.

Whenever there was trouble or when he needed to discipline the kitchen staff, that old man always used his feet!

Of course!

A chef's hands were his life!

How could he use them to fight?

Sanji clenched his fists, determination burning in his eyes. "That's it. From now on, I'm not using my hands to fight!"

But as the realization sank in, so did Takumi's other words.

Spending all his time complaining, not even trying...

Was he really that pathetic?

He had been working hard, hadn't he?

For months, he'd scrubbed dishes and cleaned Baratie top to bottom. How could anyone say he wasn't trying?

But then, a sudden thought hit him.

Sweat beaded on Sanji's forehead.

"What the hell have I been doing all these months?"