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Oct. 9th, 2006 04:04 pm![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
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onepieceyaoi100I swear I won't post anymore after this. .....I SWEAR. >.<
Title: Sixty-Eight
Rating: G
Word Count: 100 x 3
Pairing: Sanji-centric, Zeff/Sanji in the non-shota/pairing way.
Topic: Second Best (I'm sorry, Laney. ;__; )
A/N: ...It doesn't make sense. Like most of the rest of the crap I put out. >>; but this was such a bitch to write. edit: ORZ I'm totally writing off-topic. Fail.
It’s lying buried under a mound of assorted yellowed recipes, layers of grime and things he hasn’t thought about since he was much younger. The medal’s tarnished silver doesn’t glint, as he holds it to the dying light of the evening, and he lets the wind play with its tattered once-blue ribbon; lets it sway, a clock’s restless pendulum before him.
Annual Cooking Championships 46
East Blue, Baratie
Sanji
2nd Place
He transfers the medal to his other hand. Rubs his fingertips together and feels the dust there grind like flour-fine sand. He smiles a bit.
He was eleven, then.
x x x x x x
The original contestant had been some guy Sanji really didn’t like (although now he can’t remember why). On the day of the competition itself, said cook had ‘conveniently’ fallen ill. Sanji’d signed himself up before anyone had a full grasp of the situation.
A scrawny eggplant against a multitude of senior cooks, and he’d gotten second.
He remembers the excited grin, as he ran towards Zeff with the medal held high. The shitty geezer had kicked it out of his fingers and stalked angrily off without another word.
Sanji used to wonder if it was because he hadn’t gotten first.
x x x x x x
He leaves the medal where he knows the shitty old geezer will find it. Not hard to miss, hung on a well-used, rusted bent nail hammered in above countless tea-colored photos and countless hand-copied recipes. A last look at the unintentional timeline on the crumbling corkboard, and Sanji realizes that Zeff has aged.
Luffy’s standing at the end of the line of cooks (old and new), arms crossed, grin on his face.
Things that have never happened before, happen. Zeff calls his name. Sanji doesn’t curse him. They both cry. They leave with good memories.
Like silver on a nail.
Title: Sixty-Eight
Rating: G
Word Count: 100 x 3
Pairing: Sanji-centric, Zeff/Sanji in the non-shota/pairing way.
Topic: Second Best (I'm sorry, Laney. ;__; )
A/N: ...It doesn't make sense. Like most of the rest of the crap I put out. >>; but this was such a bitch to write. edit: ORZ I'm totally writing off-topic. Fail.
It’s lying buried under a mound of assorted yellowed recipes, layers of grime and things he hasn’t thought about since he was much younger. The medal’s tarnished silver doesn’t glint, as he holds it to the dying light of the evening, and he lets the wind play with its tattered once-blue ribbon; lets it sway, a clock’s restless pendulum before him.
East Blue, Baratie
Sanji
2nd Place
He transfers the medal to his other hand. Rubs his fingertips together and feels the dust there grind like flour-fine sand. He smiles a bit.
He was eleven, then.
The original contestant had been some guy Sanji really didn’t like (although now he can’t remember why). On the day of the competition itself, said cook had ‘conveniently’ fallen ill. Sanji’d signed himself up before anyone had a full grasp of the situation.
A scrawny eggplant against a multitude of senior cooks, and he’d gotten second.
He remembers the excited grin, as he ran towards Zeff with the medal held high. The shitty geezer had kicked it out of his fingers and stalked angrily off without another word.
Sanji used to wonder if it was because he hadn’t gotten first.
He leaves the medal where he knows the shitty old geezer will find it. Not hard to miss, hung on a well-used, rusted bent nail hammered in above countless tea-colored photos and countless hand-copied recipes. A last look at the unintentional timeline on the crumbling corkboard, and Sanji realizes that Zeff has aged.
Luffy’s standing at the end of the line of cooks (old and new), arms crossed, grin on his face.
Things that have never happened before, happen. Zeff calls his name. Sanji doesn’t curse him. They both cry. They leave with good memories.
Like silver on a nail.
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Date: 2006-10-09 07:12 pm (UTC)no subject
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Date: 2006-10-09 09:16 pm (UTC)(Is that a typo in the last line?)
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Date: 2006-10-09 11:51 pm (UTC)♥
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Date: 2006-10-10 06:14 am (UTC)