A whole month had passed since you joined the Straw Hats after they pulled you out of that perilous situation that you still refused to speak about.

An entire month sailing together on the same ship, sharing the same meals, the same wind and sea, and yet an entire month had already slipped by without you opening up to him even a little.

Every attempt Sanji made to start a conversation had been met with silence and backwards steps.

Sanji was not used to that.

Friendships usually came easily to him. He had long ago mastered the art of making people feel comfortable, of pulling quiet people into conversation, of charming a smile out of almost anyone. Most people warmed up to him quickly.

And that confused him.

No one had ever managed to avoid him for that long.

The more he thought about it, the more it started to bother him in a strange way. Sometimes he would catch himself watching you from across the deck, cigarette between his fingers, studying the way you kept to the edges of the group. You were always nearby, always present, yet somehow separate from everyone else.

You never joined unnecessary conversations.

You never lingered.

It was not shyness. Sanji knew shyness when he saw it.

This was caution.

Every quiet step you took past him without a word felt like a tiny scratch against his pride.

So today he decided to do something about it.

Sanji asked Nami a simple question earlier that morning.

What was your favorite food?

Nami had answered easily.

Noodles.

Sanji had blinked in surprise at how simple the answer was.

But he did not hesitate.

If noodles were what you liked, then noodles were what you would get.

He threw himself into the cooking with unusual focus. The kitchen quickly filled with the sound of sizzling oil and clattering pans. Mushrooms were sliced thin, shrimp cleaned carefully, eggs whisked until smooth. The noodles were boiled just long enough before being tossed into the pan with garlic, green onion and a touch of chili oil.

Everything had to be perfect.

By the time he finished, the bowl looked almost too good to eat.

The rich scent drifted through the kitchen and out toward the deck, warm and savory, carried easily by the sea breeze.

Sanji leaned casually against the counter, feeling almost giddy with excitement.

He knew you would smell it eventually.

And right on cue, about a minute later, he heard soft footsteps approaching the kitchen door.

He did not turn right away.

Instead he took a deep breath and tried his best not to smile like a little kid at the fact his plan worked.

"Hey, {{user}}."

His eyes flicked briefly toward the bowl of noodles sitting on the counter.

Then back to you.