"My husband, Sanji blackleg, was one of the greatest poets who had ever lived and it's one of the many reasons why I fell in love with him. His stories touched many hearts including my own. Some were adventurous, some romantic, and some got into the depths of human nature. I don't know anyone who could've touch so many various hearts in just one lifetime. Not only was he one of the greatest authors, he was also one of the best chefs. As a teenager, he won many competitions and earned the respect of many world-renowned cooks. It still amazes me how such a phenomenal person chose to be with me out of all the women out there." His grandmother spoke in the microphone about his grandfather, as the news reporters took photos from every possible angle.

And when she finished, everybody clapped with enthusiasm, even though most of them had never even talked to his grandfather while he was still alive. Even fewer among them knew Sanji Blackleg on a personal level. Most of them were present to say how his books have influenced their lives and how he had somehow "saved" them.

It was idiotic.

Sure, he had never personally read his grandfather's novels, but it was ludicrous to believe that a novel could be life changing.

A lot of these people shook his hand and apologized for his loss and he simply nodded, appeared to be sad until they took their leave. His family members were doing the same, but in a more dramatic appearance, sniffling into a napkin and falling to the floor. He was able to tell that their those streaks down their cheeks were mere crocodile tears though, because most of them except for his grandmother were happy over his grandfather's death.

Sanji Blackleg was famous around the world, after all. His novels were constantly best sellers and his thoughtful ideas had been adopted by many professors. He had produced so much wealth in his lifetime, and they were sought for by anyone greedy, which included his own family members.

It was truly disgusting how they toppled over one another to get their hands on someone else's hard earned cash.

He had to give a few sophisticated speeches since the media was here. He spoke of the times shared with his grandfather, which were mostly stretched out and exaggerated since he could not recall a single full conversation with Sanji Blackleg. Their relationship had been extremely faint. If strings were to represent human relationships, theirs would've been nearly nonexistent, so feeble that it could've been broken by a touch.

The rest of the funeral carried on as the sun shifted across the sky, and after many hours the media seemed to pack up and leave. Those who had been merely fans of his grandfather's work left, as well. It was only him and the rest of his family who had remained, partly to appear devastated by the loss and partly because they had nothing better to do.

There was one other person among them though. A man he had never seen before. He appeared to be the same age as his grandfather before, of course, he had passed away, but the word "elderly" wasn't exactly the right word to describe the man. The man had green hair and three jingling gold earrings. He appeared to be a delinquent despite his old age. He wore a sad expression, which surfaced rather distinctly through his stoic features. And that grief was unexpectedly genuine, in contrast to everybody else's expressions he had seen the entire day. It seemed that this mysterious man was legitimately upset over his grandfather's death.

He wondered who this man was and how he knew Sanji.

The man vanished after the black coffin, with his grandfather's body inside of it, dropped into the ground. It seemed that no one else other than himself noticed the man's presence or disappearance.

He silently rode in the backseat of his father's car after the funeral, weary from the day's events. He absolutely despised wearing a fake smile and seeing others do the same. It was a damn mystery how his grandfather did it his entire life.

That night, Sanji's most trusted lawyer came into their household, holding the information that his family members were drooling for, all except for his grandmother who had remained in her room.

The lawyer was one of Sanji's dearest childhood friends, named Robin.

"Mr. Blackleg wrote his will knowing his time was limited. He had lived his life as a wise man and his inheritance has a specific meaning behind each and one of them; therefore, please do reflect careful-"

"Get on with it already!" his father boomed, interrupting the raven haired woman.

She gave him the coldest stare in response, sending a chill down the boy's spine and fear to the pit of his stomach. He had never gazed upon such terrible, frightening eyes. An expression that would not change after muffling his father and killing him slowly.

Robin concealed that expression, her obvious resentment for Sanji's family, in order to continue speaking. She held a white paper in between her fingers and read the content out loud, "For my dear wife, I leave her the house we have lived in for the entirety of our marriage. For my far-off relatives, I leave them one object they desire from my collections. As for my son-in-law and my daughter, I leave them my sacred library, which holds the knowledge of the world. I wish them to continue learning and growing as people. That is all. I expect all of the money I have left in the bank to be donated to all the starving people worldwide." At the end, Robin showed a tiny smirk at the corners of her lips, evidently pleased by Sanji's decisions.

His father furiously slammed his fists on the marble table and his mother frantically tried to calm him down. He threw his mother to the side as he yelled directly at Robin, "YOU LITTLE WITCH, I KNOW THERE IS MORE. YOU'RE LYING, WHERE IS OUR ACTUAL INHERITANCE? WHERE IS OUR MONEY?"

Even though his father was screaming at her at the top of his lungs, she did not flinch nor give away any type of response. She simply sighed before saying, "That is all. Excuse me, I have to use the restroom before leaving."

She walked away from his father, heading toward the hallway. On her way, she lightly tapped the boy's shoulders.

He raised one of his curled eyebrows, one of the many traits he received from his grandfather, before tagging along with Robin. None of his family members noticed his absence, as they were too occupied yelling among themselves, infuriated that Sanji Blackleg did not leave them any of his money.

"Boy, Sanji left you something too, you know," she told him, with a gentler tone than the one she used in the living room.

He perked up hearing those words. What can they be? he wondered.

Robin pulled out a leather covered paperback from her purse. A journal, draped in shabby brown straps to ensure its enclosure. "His journal entries were carefully handpicked. He wanted you to read the most important memories and he fastened the pages together himself. He wanted you to have it. There is also a letter in there for you too," she told him with a warming smile, before walking away.

His father was stricter that night, finding ways to vent his anger out, even going as far as laying his hands on his mother. She cried as a result for the rest of the night. The hatred and negativity in his household made him sick to his stomach.

The following morning gave him the perfect opportunity to stretch his feet out, in the midst of fragrant and vibrant flowers. He carefully removed the brown straps that were barely holding the book together, and instantly a small folded letter fell out of the book.

He grabbed the letter out of curiosity.

I am sorry, my boy, to have burdened you with this book.

It is all your choice to read these pages or not since I know you never really cared for reading. Follow your judgment and heart, though I do not want to pressure you in any way.

The book holds many memories that I am fond of and memories that I am not so fond of, as they have been heavy to carry all of these years. I certainly hope that you learn from my mistakes. And you must be wondering "why me?" Yes, I had asked the same question myself in the beginning. I did not know whether you were too young to understand or too old to judge blindly. It was a difficult decision, but it cannot be anybody else.

My loving wife, whom I have wounded so much already, I did not want to cause her further pain. My daughter, whose heart and mind had been tainted by that bastard of a husband of hers, I felt that I could not rely on her either.

So, I entrust my past in your hands. All I ask of you is to understand, but if you decide to reject my request, please burn this book. Eradicate its content and please do not speak of the matter.

My boy, you must know that the only reason we never communicated is because I was hoping to keep you away from my persistent fame. Even though the majority of society aspires for success and recognition, it is not so great after experiencing the disgusting aspect to it. My daughter, your mother, had an immense passion for acting. She tried to use my name in order to succeed, but I refused to lend her my hand, and as an act of vengeance she married that sad excuse of a man, who is currently your father.

Keep an eye on him as I no longer have that power to do so. I apologize for being so cold to you all of these years, but even from afar, I was able to tell that you've grown into a fine young man.

I'm so proud of you.

He uneasily placed the letter down on top of the coffee table.

The tattered book in his hand felt heavier than before, as though it had more value after reading that letter. He was actually able to feel the weight of his grandfather's inheritance.

According to the letter, Sanji Blackleg had entrusted him with the most important memories of his past, which somewhat unnerved him. If it was that important, why did his grandfather just hand it to him? They barely shared a word with one another unless it was necessary. And did he want to know the dark side of Sanji Blackleg, hidden behind the portrait that the media had of him?

This was writing that had never been published. It would be a big deal to the world, who actually cared about his writing. He could make a fortune out of this journal.

Yet, he didn't care about the fortune, he just cared about what made this journal so important and why it was in his hands.

His fingers fiddled with the fragile, old pages, and he began to read.

For heaven's fuck's sake, I have no idea why I am writing right now. I mean I do have interest in writing, but I love cooking so much more. Zeff seems to think that keeping a track of my life is important and 'good practice,' even though that old man doesn't know shit, but I'll listen to him this one time.

So, I'm supposed to talk about my daily routines and unusual things that happened today, right? Well, let me tell you that today was my birthday, great-fucking-whoop! It was pretty shitty. Zeff threw me a party and most of my friends came, which was actually pretty nice, but Usopp had to ruin it by bringing his dumb friend named Zoro. He ruined my birthday. That shitty bastard.

This guy, whom I am calling "marimo" because of his green hair, severally injured my ego and injured me physically too!

I insisted them to bring some girls, but it was mostly a sausage fest. There were only two girls, named Robin and Nami, and they were so lovely! So delightfully pretty and had really nice bodies, like hourglass shapes and all. They laughed like angels and Nami even hit me a couple of times. It was wonderful! But that annoying moss bastard kept interrupting me and saying something under his breath, while I was trying to flirt with my sweet flowers.

And I could not resist the temptation when he kept provoking me to fight. I mean, he made fun of my damn eyebrows! It was my birthday, for fuck's sake. That guy should have had some damn respect!

He just kept on pestering me until I kicked him in the stomach where it hurt, and I would know since Zeff kicked me in the same place in the past. He punched me back, which I was actually surprised about, because he actually managed to land and it hurt. I know this is cocky of me to say, but I never thought someone else my age was capable of fighting like I was able to, since I've been training with Zeff for years.

Anyways, we continued to fight until Zeff had enough of it. He kicked us out. Even me, the birthday boy, out of my own fucking party. It was completely Zoro's fault, he should have been the only one kicked out.

I hate him.

And thinking about him makes me angry all over again. I am going to sleep soon.

He frowned. This did not sound like it was written by his grandfather, who was so much more mature and sophisticated with his language. He did not use the word "fuck" every few sentences.

It sounded like a complete stranger, an immature brat.

The boy in the pages sounded like he was having a midlife crisis, over something that was completely his fault. He was unnecessarily dramatizing little situations into big problems. He was so immature and free of any realistic worries, demonstrating how young Sanji Blackleg used to be.

Even though it was interesting to read, it did not answer any of his questions. How was this significant? Robin had told him that he had hand picked these precious memories and bonded them together and she had told his family that every gift had significant meaning to each and one of them.

It was simple to understand why his parents received the library. It was because they were so selfish and ignorant, and he wanted them to attain more universal knowledge that could help them grow. For his grandmother, it was probably because Sanji did not want her to become homeless. As for the rest of his relatives, Sanji most likely wanted them to decide what's important to them. But he was unable to see the true value behind his grandfather's gift toward him.

"Ms. Sana, please refill my tea pot," he requested from the nearby maid, with a charming voice he had mastered. The crinkles around his eyes gave the impression that he was smiling when, in actuality, he was not.

She smiled and responded, "Of course, Mr. Blackleg."

He poured himself some tea before flipping the page.

AN: I had this idea for awhile, but I didn't know how to present the plot until now. Since I'm done with "What are the Chances," I wanted to begin this new project. Compared to that story, I think this is definitely more difficult to write, as it's less straightforward and there are different perspectives.

"Elucidation" will not have a specific central character. Maybe the grandson. The emotions will be definitely one-sided, since it's only from Sanji's perspective that we're reading from. I wanted Sanji's voice to be really immature and contradictory in the beginning, because I want his voice to grow throughout the journal.

I hope you guys enjoy this.