The bell above the restaurant door jingles, a sound you’ve grown used to over the years, though today it carries a weight you can’t place. You’re standing behind the counter, hands folded neatly, watching Sanji in his element. He’s moving through the kitchen with the kind of grace only he seems capable of, flames flicking along his pans as he dances between orders. You’ve seen him like this a thousand times, yet every glance still catches your breath.

A loud, familiar voice cuts through the hum of the evening. “Sanji! You here?”

Your heart skips a beat. You know that voice. Impossible.

Sanji freezes mid-flip, eyes widening. You don’t need words to understand the shock on his face—it’s mirrored in your own. The door bursts open again, this time with a shuffle of many footsteps, and there he is. Luffy. And behind him, the rest of the crew, older now, weathered by their journeys but unmistakable all the same.

Luffy’s grin is as wide as ever, and for a moment, it’s like no time has passed at all. “I should get the crew together,” he says brightly, as if nothing is strange, as if the past ten years didn’t exist.

Sanji’s jaw tightens. He looks at you, eyes flicking to your hand resting on the counter, then back to the familiar chaos entering the restaurant. You stay silent, letting him handle the storm.

The crew fans out through the restaurant, eyes widening as they take in the setup, the life Sanji has built.