[ even if following bee's story is like meandering through the forest without a clue of the direction — which is how he assumes zoro has spent his whole life traveling — he understands the sentiment. she's a sharp child, and even if sanji hasn't spoken to her about why he's harder on her now, why her lessons have taken a faster pace, why she does more of the things he does, she knows. she knows just like he does, just like nami does, just like zoro does. just like everyone does, even if he's avoided saying it. ]

I don't even know what's gonna come out of me.

[ he takes a long drag, bee warm against his side. she isn't as bony as when they first met, not since sanji started feeding her, but her wings and plethora of eyes will always make her look strange to everyone else. sanji doesn't see anything out of the ordinary when he looks at her. just another annoying, shitty kid he has to take care of.

thinking too deeply about bee's two fathers and one mother makes something curl up in his chest, something fragile and gossamer, and then he's pulling bee into his lap, pressing his nose into the top of her hair and holding her like she's a rag doll. his breath soaks her unruly locks as he remembers only distantly the feeling of his mother's arms, the sound of her voice, the soft bell of her laugh. so much has happened in the space of her dying until now, so many bad memories to push out all the good ones of her. ]

Tell me your good memories about your dad. [ he hugs her even tighter, turning his head just slightly so smoke can escape the corner of his mouth. ] The one you know best.