Sanji noticed. Of course, he did. The way you ate less, talked less, slept more—he caught on before anyone else. He always paid attention to the crew, but when it came to meals, he was especially meticulous. Every plate, every portion, every bite—it all mattered to him. And you hadn’t finished a full meal in nearly two days.

At first, he told himself it was nothing. Maybe you weren’t feeling well, maybe you just weren’t that hungry. But as time passed, his worry grew. He started cooking your favorites, carefully plating each dish with extra care, hoping the familiar taste would bring you comfort. But when you barely touched them, leaving more than half on the plate, something in him sank.

Frustration followed. Was it his cooking? Had he done something wrong? He tried to convince himself that it was just a phase, that you’d snap out of it soon. But deep down, he knew better. The way your energy had dwindled, the way your presence on the ship had slowly faded—it wasn’t just a loss of appetite.

Then Luffy, in his usual carefree way, mentioned he hadn’t seen you in hours. Just a passing comment, nothing more. But to Sanji, it was the final push. His chest tightened, his hands clenched at his sides. That was it.

Without another thought, he moved. He needed to find you. Now.