A/N: heheh kinda funny it's ending on chapter 6 outta 6, like Germa 66, u'd think i'd planned this or smth (i didn't)

TW: sleep deprivation, panic attacks, flashbacks, referenced abuse - skipping 94 - 97 will avoid the worst of it

(93.1)

Luffy opened his eyes to a wooden ceiling, darkness tunneling at the edges of his vision. Blinking it away, he propped himself up on an elbow, free hand moving to his throbbing head, fingertips brushing a bandage. Bandage?

"Huh?"

"Welcome back Captain."

Turning, he found Zoro sitting at his bedside with a bottle of whiskey by his knee. When their gazes met, Zoro's lips tipped into a lopsided smirk, and Luffy returned the gesture, cheeks pinching to make room for the largest grin he could manage.

"I was beginning to think I'd have to go back to bounty hunting to fill my stomach."

Luffy snickered at that, an image of Zoro frantically running in circles trying to find a bounty passing through his mind, then...

"AH!"

He shot upright, ignoring the bolts of pain smashing through every nerve. "Sanji! AH! And Sabo! Where's Sabo!? And Sanji, where's he at!?" as the last words left his mouth, he latched onto Zoro's shoulders, nearly shoving him off the stool—something Zoro would usually get mad about. This time, he remained silent, staring with a serious Zoro frown that made Luffy pause, unease coiling in his gut.

"..What happened?"

The silence dragged on until Zoro sighed through his nose, causing Luffy to release him and sit back on the mattress.

"You ran into Cook, huh? With how cowardly he was acting, I assumed he'd avoid you altogether."

Luffy tilted his head, remembering the weird green and pink Sanji's, then the normal Sanji stomping over, not happy at all. Luffy wasn't sure what to make of that yet.

"He showed up after I kicked Mingo's ass," Luffy explained, absently tucking his arms over his chest, "And then he left with some weird clone guys, but he didn't act like he wanted to go with them. Hmmmmm."

Luffy could feel his brain running at optimal capacity, getting hotter and hotter until he could've sworn steam was shooting out his ears. He gave up. Thinking about it was pointless anyways.

"Welp, guess there's no other choice, I'll just have to go ask him then!"

"Oi, Luffy, drop it!" Zoro snapped, slamming the bottom of the whiskey onto the nightstand with a clunk. "The way things stand, he's gone without so much as a 'thank you for the ride' or a 'sorry for all the trouble!' Take a moment to think."

Luffy had thought about it. Stopped in the doorway regardless. He needed Zoro on the same page as him.

"We're on a bit of an express train here," Zoro went on, "Caesar told us, didn't he? The Smile that Doflamingo was making, it was intended for Kaidou! Just as we angered Doflamingo by destroying the laboratory on Punk Hazard, our destruction of the factory on Dressrosa has angered none other than the Yonkou Kaido! They're no longer some far-off threat, we don't have time for pitstops!"

For several beats, Zoro's gaze burned into his shoulder blades, tension palpable enough to weigh on them, pushing them down. Luffy ignored it, tipping his head down as he readjusted his hat.

"And then what?"

"Hah!?"

"After we meet up. Then what?"

Zoro didn't answer. Luffy didn't need to see his expression to know what that meant.

"You think as we are, we can really stand a chance against Kaido?" he released a huff of air, one that rang of bitter surety, "We'd be defeated for sure."

Fighting Mingo had taught him that much. If Traffy hadn't helped him out, if Sabo hadn't watched his back, if all the others hadn't fought with him, hadn't supported him, he would've been killed. If Kaido truly was stronger than Mingo, then...

"Right now, our crew's not functioning at its best. Not without Sanji."

"Cook's not part of our crew," Zoro said, low, careful, "He made that pretty damn clear when he didn't show up at Sabaody."

"Doesn't matter. I'll just have to find him and ask again and again until I wear him down."

One step, two, three, four, he'd made it out the doorway. Zoro released another sigh, this time, his voice tinged with fondness despite his words. "You really are the spawn of the devil."

Luffy found himself snickering at that.

"Heads up."

On instinct, he spun on his heel, snatching something out of the air and turning it over. It was a weird shiny thing.

"What is this?"

"Tracking device. That announcer handed it over to us when he brought you here. Cook should be at the other end of it."

"Zoro," he waited a beat before allowing a grin to slide across his face, "Thanks."

A snort, "Damn right. Let's go get Cook."

(93)

It was dark, and he was pissed. Sanji lay on the floor with his back pressed to the wall, ears ringing, stomach churning uncomfortably. Couldn't tell if it was the horror of being returned to this hellhole or the concussion the bastard had given him. Bile rising to the base of his throat, he rolled over, staring at the cracks littering the wall, some caused by his brothers old 'visits.'

He hated this. Knew calling for help would be pointless. Needed to think of a way out. Had to save himself. Had to save his friends.

His eyelids felt heavy.

Had to think of something. Forget the cufflets. Forget his hands. Had to get out. Had to—

They flickered closed, and with a jolt, he popped them open again, only for the process to repeat, a dreary haze flooding his mind. Shit. He was tired.

Needed to get out.

His vision faded, black overtaking everything, and yet, he couldn't help thinking it was still brighter than the cellar.

(94)

When he came to, he was a little surprised to find his heart still beating. Read somewhere sleeping with a concussion was dangerous. Couldn't tell whether surviving had been a lucky break or not.

Shaking the thought off, he rose on wobbly legs, patting himself down for a weapon, finding none, moving for the crates on the other side of the room—well, in the direction he figured they must be. Turned out to be wrong and he couldn't find the damn things until he nearly fell into one.

Grabbing the sides to steady himself, he squeezed his eyes shut against a migraine, nausea returning with a vengeance. Had to hunch over for several minutes, pulse thumping against his clammy skin. Felt gross. Could use a change of clothes, among other things.

Once he was somewhat reassured he wouldn't puke his guts up, he sifted through the crates, searching for knives, forks, hell, even a spoon would've been good at this point. Found nothing. Damn it.

(95)

The next morning he checked again, opening every cabinet, the tiny oven, prodding at the cot he'd outgrown decades ago. Found nothing but an assortment of dusty books and tiny, ragged clothes. Couldn't believe he'd been able to read in this light once upon a time. Hoped he wouldn't be in here long enough to regain that skill.

Logically, he understood he would only be incarcerated until the wedding. That the bastard didn't trust him. Believed he would run despite the explosives around his wrists, despite his friend's lives hanging in the balance. The former may have been true, but the latter... Shit, how could he leave them? Intentionally or not, he'd gotten them involved in this. Should've played it off, should've yelled at Luffy, claimed he hated him, hell, maybe even kick him around a bit. Better yet, he should've gotten off at the first stop after crossing the Red Line, should've never stayed with them.

The idea stung but if it could've prevented this... Ah, hell, it was too late now. Thanks to his lapse in judgment, the Strawhats were captured.

He had to fix this somehow. He had to. He'd fucked up.

He tried to latch onto the idea of helping them, tried to steel himself, to shrug off the hell he was currently trapped in. Failed. The air was turning wet. Why was the air turning wet? He choked on it, struggled to reign in another breath, choked on that too. What if he never got out again? Shit! No! He'd get out, he knew he'd get out, damn it, he just—

Images were flooding his brain, blood on the concrete, pain across his back, sharp, too sharp, desperate pleas, baseball bats glinting off a light that wasn't there, that wasn't—

Lightheaded, he staggered away until his back hit the wall, slid down it, every muscle shivering hard enough to make his kneecaps collide, to make sitting difficult. Fingers found his hair, buried themselves there on instinct, a reminder he was here not there, that the helmet wasn't on, that he was bigger, stronger, could protect himself. That he was going to get out of here, was going to be fine.

.

.

.

He couldn't breathe.

(96)

The iciness seeped through his thin clothes like water, making his limbs heavier from the cold. He couldn't fit on the tiny cot anymore, nor had the bastard thrown a sleeping bag in with him. Or a blanket.

Should've been furious, however, he couldn't bring himself to care beyond a sigh. At least the cold was good for keeping him awake if nothing else.

With sleep came nightmares, and considering he was currently trapped in the place most of the worst ones featured, it was hell. Both in waking and in sleeping he was tormented by fear he shouldn't feel, fear that didn't belong in this moment, didn't fit. Felt broken bones that'd long since mended, lacerations that'd long since sealed into scars.

He was such a moron. Had actually believed he was more or less recovered. Moron. How could he have recovered? He'd never gotten help, never cut off contact, never done anything besides cover up old injuries and avoid reminders of the past like they were plagued.

Something he didn't have the luxury of doing anymore. He was trapped in a vicious cycle and he couldn't leave, couldn't get out, couldn't escape, couldn't—

In comparison, staring aimlessly at the ceiling that grew clearer every day was much better. Tried not to think about what would happen to him. Failed. Couldn't help it. If he married into Big Mom's family, would his friends be let go? Would the bastard keep his end? Surely he would. The bastard was a lot of things, but Sanji didn't think he was the kind of shitstain that'd break his word like that.

Still, out of all the uncertainties piling up, his survival didn't make the list. He knew without a doubt that if he went through with this he'd die. Whether the death was literal or not, he wouldn't make it passed the ceremony.

Habitually, he dug a hand into his pocket, fingers returning coiled around a carton he'd emptied days ago chain-smoking out of stress. Now he was stressed and out of cigarettes. Great.

Should've been angry, should've cursed, should've been a lot of things. Instead, he simply released another shaky sigh. Too tired.

(97)

Lately, he could've sworn he saw things moving out of the corner of his eye. A shadow, a figure, something. Could hear whispers, voices, repeating things he'd experienced, phrases that'd been said to him, things he'd spoken as well.

Zoro sacrificing himself for Luffy, insisting he was worth nothing if he couldn't protect his captain, his own voice trying to intervene, to talk sense into him, telling him dying for another person was a fool's death (hypocrite). Could hear Nami asking about All Blue, Usopp telling tall tales, Robin's laugh, soft, comforting, Chopper chewing him out for not sleeping, for being reckless and not caring for himself. Sometimes, he could even swear Luffy was there, snickering in that carefree way of his, assuring Sanji everything would be all right, that freedom existed, that dreams could come true.

Maybe it was the stress, maybe he was losing it.

Shit. He was so tired.

(98)

As per custom, Reiju sauntered in nearly two weeks into his imprisonment. He'd expected this, had taken to waiting with his back pressed to the bars, hands clasped on his lap, eyes glued to the other side of the cell he'd been able to see since yesterday morning.

"Your Den Den Mushi," she spoke slowly, as if navigating her path through a minefield. "You still have it, do you not?"

Shook his head, remembering the soldiers taking it alongside his weapons.

She was silent for a beat, "Guess it doesn't matter. Germa is Germa."

He was tempted to ask what the hell she was on about when her voice softened, almost pitying, "Ichiji and Niji should be arriving sometime this afternoon."

"..I need a smoke."

Rustling of cloth, and he could imagine her pulling out a carton. Guess she'd brought it for him, some of the 'least she could do' bullshit she'd been pulling since they were brats. He still accepted it nonetheless, stuffing a cigarette between his lips quickly as possible and retrieving his lighter from his pocket. She copied him, taking one for herself and releasing a slow stream of smoke. Didn't know she'd taken up the habit.

"I don't do it very often," she answered, as though she could read his mind. "Only here and there when I need some stress relief. Father wouldn't stand for it if he found out."

Rather than answer her, he closed his eyes, enjoying the tobacco seeping into his tongue. When he opened them, the cellar was spinning somewhat, a ball rolling around inside his skull, making it ache painfully. Tired.

"Wouldn't want you dying of withdrawal," she added as an afterthought before exhaling another puff of smoke.

With a noncommittal hum, he rested his head against the bars, trying to arrange words in a way that made sense. The task was too demanding, and he took another desperate drag from his cigarette before starting. "..I spent nearly a year with those morons, you know."

Heard her hair rustle. Guess she was looking at him. Not that he cared.

"They're weird as hell, annoying as hell, and—" he stopped.

What had he been getting at again?

Something about the Strawhats. Something about them being annoying.

"They're completely hopeless when it comes to common sense," he tacked on.

Sounded about right. Yeah, that was right.

Silence met his words, and he could imagine her frowning. Probably had no clue what he was rambling about. Not that he cared about that either.

"If it wasn't for me, those morons probably would've died on some foreign island in the middle of nowhere. Or maybe they'd have starved after Luffy ate all the rations."

They needed him, he tried to say, all the while knowing it was utter bullshit. That it was him who needed them. That it was him who'd spent the past two years miserable and empty, and for what? What had been the point of it? To be imprisoned, blackmailed, then thrown away like trash?

If it had truly been about revenge, he would've had better luck joining the Revolutionary Army than sticking with Germa. Could've toppled the Government and laughed in their shitty faces. Yet, rather than defect, rather than do anything useful, he'd stayed. Had kept his side of the bargain, had done whatever was asked of him, had never tried to leave.

He'd told himself he hated the bastard, that he'd given up on forging a bond between them, but in reality, that was the real reason he'd stuck around wasn't it? All the years, all the missions, all the times he'd almost died; it'd all been in hopes the bastard would accept him again. That this mission would prove he was worth something damn it, and near the end, that his death would prove it.

What a sick fucking joke. It took being beaten and thrown into a cellar for him to face the facts. That his 'anger' had been nothing more than a weak defense from the start. That he hadn't only been lying to others his entire life, but himself as well.

Fuck, he was so tired.

"They sound like an interesting bunch," Reiju murmured, probably taking pity on him.

Like he wanted that from her. "I'm done," he released alongside a stream of smoke, "I've had enough of this shit. I want..." the last two words were unfamiliar on his tongue, and he paused, examining the taste they left behind, the pin-pricks up his arms. How long had it been since he'd last said them? He tried them again, tried to ignore how awkward they felt. Couldn't. Gave up.

Reiju had caught onto his predicament if the sniffle behind him was any indicator. With a jolt, he realized she was crying. Didn't have much time to process this before she stood, heels clacking against the floor as she used them to grind out her cigarette.

Fingers coiling around the bars, she shoved them apart with a nearly deafening screeeeeech, "Go."

Sanji didn't move.

Reiju kept her puffy eyes on him, lips twisting into a half-formed sneer, "Have you gone deaf!? Get out of here Sanji! You won't get a second chance!"

He took a step forward, two, three, slid through the gap. Stopped.

Up until now, all he'd ever done was run. Run from the Strawhats, from the truth, fill himself with lies and pretend he couldn't care less, that he hated everybody and everything.

"Sanji!"

At that, he turned, meeting her gaze evenly as his mind raged in a war against itself, as his eyes stung, as his throat tightened against an emotion he rejected.

It was fine. He saw what he had to do. It was so clear to him, how could he have never thought of this?

Of course. The best way to solve everything. The best way to save his friends, to right all his wrongs, to make everything finally end. He just had to kill the bastard.

"Reiju. Can you do me another favor?"

(99)

He spent a majority of the trek to his stuff stumbling blindly, neon colors dancing along his barely opened eyelids, pulse thudding hard enough to smash out his throat. This was nothing compared to the ordeal he'd suffered through after three years in that cellar. Knowing this didn't change much, though, pained groans escaping whenever a ray of sunlight hit him just right, or whenever he had to duck behind a corner, forcing his eyelids wide enough to watch the soldiers march by.

The pain was good for nurturing the rage if nothing else, the rage he'd kept pent up since he was five, since the first time his brothers had turned on him, the first time everyone had averted their eyes from it. Though he knew it was a shitty defense, he gladly hid behind it, allowing it to spread through his veins like fire, awakening every nerve, every sensation until he could've sworn he was the walking embodiment of it. That, at least, succeeded in making the exhaustion ease, adrenaline taking over, sending him into auto-pilot.

In about half an hour the soldiers would stop by his cell with Lunch, would notice he was gone, would report it. Rather than cause him panic, the knowledge of this made his pulse thrum all the harder. Let them see. Let the come looking.

Reiju moved ahead of him, chin up, stride confident, and he couldn't help questioning whether she was really helping him, or if she'd changed her mind and was taking him to Judge. Guess he could work with that. Could snap his neck. Or maybe, steal that shitty spear and—

Reiju came to a halt around the corner, gesturing to an ajar door before sliding inside. He followed without a beat of hesitation.

Low and behold, it was a locker room, empty except for the two of them and seemingly unused besides the one on the far right, where the coating of dust had been smeared off. He beelined for it.

Rather than let Reiju enter the code on the lock, he spun and smashed his heel into it, crumpling the thin metal like a soda can then prying the door open. Ignored the stare searing into him as he gathered his stuff, holstering knives at the speed of light. Only slowed at the sight of a leather sheath. Took it in his hands, turned it over, brushed his fingers over the hilt.

Found it.

Instead of clipping it to his belt, he shoved it into his pocket alongside his Den Den Mushi.

"This is the last bit of help you're getting from me, Sanji," Reiju said, though her tone had returned to its original pitch, calm, controlled, wary.

'I know' danced at the tip of his tongue. He bit it back, another thought surfacing. "Why?"

She didn't meet his gaze.

"Why are you helping me?" he elaborated, barely suppressing the boiling beneath his skin, "Up until now, you've let those fuckers do whatever the hell they wanted to me, let them—" he couldn't bring himself to finish, memories of darkness and pain and terror threatening to spill out again, of begging for someone to save him, anyone, anything, please, just— "What's with the sudden change? Kindness of your fucking heart?"

For several heartbeats, she didn't reply. He was starting to think she was taking a trick from his book when she raised her head, a grimace spread across her face.

"We've both done awful things, Sanji, things we can't take back. If our mother could see us... As far as I'm concerned, this family dying out would be a great justice for the world," she released a slow, shaky breath, "But maybe, if I'd helped you back then, if I'd let you escape, it never would've come to this. Maybe, things could've been different for you."

Sanji was done listening, slamming the dented locker shut as he headed passed her. He didn't want to hear this. Couldn't care less about her 'guilt,' nor her thoughts on their mother. Stomped through the too bright hallway, attention on the task at hand, on killing the bastard and ending this all.

Didn't stop, even when he heard a faint, "I'm sorry," in the distance.

(100)

He didn't bother grabbing a disguise on the way out nor did he search for the bastard. He'd make the fucker come to him. First phase would be to leave the kingdom. Didn't give a shit about the cufflets on his wrists, didn't give a shit about the tracker in his pocket. The latter was intentional, the cufflets a mild inconvenience. Whether they went off or not, he'd find some way to take the bastard down. To make him pay. Just needed a good spot to do it. Somewhere he'd have an advantage. Yeah. Yeah, then everyone would be safe. Everyone and everything would be okay.

For some reason, a prickle of doubt set in, as if he'd forgotten something, as if he was missing a piece to the puzzle, as if—

He shoved it away. He had everything under control.

Off in the distance, he could've sworn he heard shouts. Time to get started.

(101)

In the end, he'd decided a forest on Whole Cake Island was his best bet. Get Judge out of familiar territory, use the trees to separate him from his bodyguards. A single strike with his poisoned knife and it'd be over, he'd get to watch the fucker die. Watch him pay for everything he'd done. For imprisoning him, for letting his 'brother's do whatever they'd wanted to him—hell, giving them the literal fucking key to do so.

His chest was heaving, breaths fast and rapid, ears filled with static. Felt sick. Like he'd puke. Must be disgust. Disgust at himself for ever wanting that bastard's acceptance. For being that desperate. For—

For—

His teeth were grinding with enough force to hurt. He may be worthless, may be a failure, a murderer, but at least he could take down one of the evilest fuckers in this world. Vivi would be proud. She'd told him to help others, right? What would be a better way than this?

Before he realized it, before he could stifle the urge, he was laughing. Didn't know why, just that he couldn't stop. Something told him he was hysterical, that his stent in the cellar had shaken him up too much, that he'd hardly slept in over a week, that he needed to rest, to regain his bearings. He ignored it. He was fine. About to be better.

He heard footsteps approaching.

Much better.

(102)

He left his Den Den Mushi tucked away beneath the gnarled roots of a tree, waiting in a perch not far off, knife readied, gaze unwavering. The trees had put up a feeble resistance at first—because of fucking course the plants in this shithole could talk—but they'd quieted quickly enough at the sight of his lighter and promises to burn each and every one of them alive.

Fuck his head hurt. Stomach was in knots. Had he been eating? He couldn't recall. He must've. He never wasted... His mind went oddly blank. What was it he didn't waste? Couldn't recall. Probably wasn't important anyways.

(103)

An hour later, he wondered if the footsteps had been in his head. He'd heard footsteps. Hadn't he? Must've. Yeah. Something like that had happened.

His eyelids were heavy, legs strangely numb, stomach aching like those times he'd gone without eating. Couldn't fight like this. Retrieving a different knife, he twirled it around and jabbed it into the tree's bark, eliciting a startled shriek.

"Food," he said, short, simple. "Poisoned and I'll kill you."

Several 'yes sir's, and he had a pile of fudge on his lap, along with clumps of cotton candy and taffy. He'd probably have a heart attack if he ate all this shit but he didn't have much of a choice, hunger already taking over. Hadn't realized he was this hungry. When had he last eaten again?

(104)

He was nearly dozing off when a branch snapped below him. He jolted, fingers tightening along the hilt of his knife. Two Germa soldiers were beneath him, creeping around with their rifles raised. That coward must've sent the 'expendable ones' in first.

Once they'd made it to the Den Den Mushi, picking around, searching for him, another figure followed, green hair, hideous outfit. Yonji.

Not the bastard?

For a moment, Sanji simply watched him wander around, pausing briefly beneath the branch. Guess he could work with this.

Sanji dropped down on top of him.

(105)

"You'll pay for this!" Yonji was yelling, struggling against the roots wrapped around his chest like rope, tying him to the tree's trunk. "And why the hell are you helping him!?" he directed to said tree, "We're allies!"

"Not yet," a bush snorted.

While a tulip whispered, "'Cuz that guy's insane! He's gonna burn us all alive!"

"What!? He's just a worthless failure! He can't do sh—"

Sanji promptly planted his shoe in Yonji's face before retrieving his Den Den Mushi from where he'd stashed it. Sat on the root beside his captive with a thud and transmitted to the same line he always did whenever reporting the end of a mission.

Surprisingly, the bastard picked up immediately. Had he been waiting for this? "You little piece of—"

"I'd watch it if I were you, bastard," Sanji grit out, spinning a knife around his fingers despite knowing the bastard couldn't see it. "I have a few propositions for you, and if you don't carry them out, well... I can't guarantee this shithead's safety."

"As if that puny knife could hurt me!" Yonji snorted, a brat among brats. "Don't listen to him, father!"

"Sure did the job all those years ago," Sanji remarked with a pointed look at the scar running down his 'brother's face.

Eyes lighting up with rage, Yonji opened his mouth to say something—something fucking idiotic knowing him—however, the bastard cut him off, tone grave and practically quivering with rage. Good.

"What are your demands?"

Sanji paused at that, searching the fog in his mind for answers. What had he wanted again? Must've remained silent much longer than he'd thought because Yonji released a bitter laugh.

"He doesn't even know! What an idiot!"

A growl low in his throat, Sanji pulled the transceiver closer, "Bring my friends to me."

Just doing that made his head thrum painfully and he pinched the bridge of his nose, squeezing his eyelids shut against the sensation.

"..Have it your way."

Hesitated too long. Lying. Bastard was lying.

Shifting his fingers to run through his greasy bangs, he hung up. Shit. Shit, shit, shit, shit. He needed a plan, a solid fucking plan. Tried. Couldn't think of anything. Could barely stand when he pushed himself up to pace, legs wobbly like he hadn't walked in weeks. The migraine worsened when he tried to reflect on the truth of that statement, if there was any at all.

"The fuck is up with you?" an obnoxious voice asked.

Sanji ignored him in favor of tightening his grip on his head.

"You really think you can beat the great Germa army in that condition? We'll crush you!" the last bit was said with a tad more pride than Sanji liked.

He stopped walking, swiveling his gaze to rest on Yonji. Why was he so confident? He was tied up. Unless...

His heart gained speed, pattering against his ribs like a drum.

Unless he let Sanji catch him. Unless this was all some ploy to recapture him! He had half a mind to storm over to the little weasel, but the other half, the half that faded more every minute, told him that would be impossible. That he was being paranoid. But what if he wasn't? What if this was a trap, what if—

"What is it!?" Yonji demanded in a savory way, "Wanna fight!?"

"Shut the fuck up." Sanji snapped, and on that note, he started pacing again.

(106)

Couldn't calm down. Every noise made him jump, every gust of wind demanded his attention, along with every broken branch and snicker from Yonji. His breaths were coming in rapid, eyes constantly scanning the forest, scanning behind him. Something was about to happen, he was sure of it. Something was about to come. Things were about to go wrong. He didn't know why or how—he just knew in his bones.

Grass crunched beneath a shoe and static prickled up his spine and into his cerebellum, as it always did whenever a mission went sour. Whenever he knew he was in danger. Brushing a hand over his stomach, where a scar left by a certain Shichibukai's hook lay, he sped up, ordering the tree trailing behind him to do the same. He'd left his Den Den Mushi in the center of a clearing this time, circling around it until he'd found a croppy overlook of rocks he could climb onto. He didn't trust this. Wanted a constant view of his surroundings.

Yonji had gone silent an hour ago, a branch shoved into his mouth per Sanji's orders. Had gotten tired of hearing his nasally voice. Fucker would probably give away their position anyways. Like he'd take that risk.

He had to kill the bastard. Had to. If he succeeded, everyone would be safe. His friends would be okay. It'd all be okay again.

Closed his eyes as he nodded along. Could barely bring himself to pry them open again, nausea threatening to overpower him as the scenery swirled around.

He didn't know how things would be okay after this, but surely they would. Surely they'd—

His train of thought derailed abruptly at the sight of the bastard stepping out of the treeline, a swarm of Germa soldiers at his heels. Not as many as Sanji had expected. Why was that?

A snort of laughter from Yonji's direction, and something hard pressed against the base of Sanji's skull.

"Ah, shi—"

WHACK!

What felt like a foot smashed between his shoulder blades, sending him skittering across the rocks, nearly falling off the cliff. He propped himself up on his hands and knees, mind a whirlwind of exhaustion and pain.

"Been a while, Sanji."

Just like that, everything in him froze. Dread curdling in his gut like spoiled milk, he rolled over to face them, fingers clinging to the smaller rocks like a lifeline. Ichiji was towering over him, pistol lazily aimed at his chest, smirk spread across his lips.

"Fighting back like this?" he went on, footsteps drawing nearer, "I didn't know you had it in you."

"Pathetic more like it," someone huffed out a laugh, a someone he quickly identified as Niji. "'I want to save my friends,' what a joke!"

Ichiji's smirk grew larger, head tipping to the side, "Yes if I've heard correctly, the peasants are being used to draw out the rest of their crew."

At that, Sanji remembered to breathe, drawing in a gulp of air as he raised his chin to meet Ichiji's gaze, "What?"

A beat of silence, then a laugh, "Normally they would've been put to death already, like those nurses from way back when, but Big Mom insisted we hand them over to her custody, and we didn't want to rock the boat so early into our alliance."

A branch snapped, a cry of pain, Niji and Yonji entering his peripheral vision. Couldn't bring himself to see what had happened, eyes locked on Ichiji as the world around him began to shake. It was only when a pitying look from Yonji was cast his way, he realized that he was the one shaking.

"..What?"

Silence.

"What did you just say?" he choked out, "About the nurses?

What about...?"

A sigh that rang of disappointment scraped the inside of his ears, "And here I thought your time spent running solo ops would've toughened you up, Sanji."

Ichiji kept talking, but Sanji could hardly hear. Felt sick. Skin was too hot yet too cold, squeezing him like a cage, like a suit that didn't fit, that he desperately wanted to claw his way out of.

"We couldn't risk your connection to us getting out back then out of fear of you shaming us, so naturally we had to purge the entire hospital."

Images passed through his head, reassuring smiles, kind words, the Head Nurse chewing him out for breaking in to see his mother again. The shaking worsened, another flash of hot and cold nearly sending him to the ground.

"You'd take it that far?"

Ichiji opened his mouth—

"SANJI!"

"Eh?"

That voice... Blinking, Sanji tore his gaze away, scanning the cliff, the clearing beneath it, until—

Until—

"Luffy?"

Before he could process his own words, a shape shot from the treeline, slamming into Ichiji and sending him tumbling down the hill. The pistol went off, a bullet slicing the skin on Sanji's arm. With a pained hiss, he clasped a hand over it, blood already gushing to his elbow. He didn't care.

Luffy was here? Why was Luffy here!?

"Sanji! I've been lookin' for you everywhere!" Luffy was saying, standing in front of Sanji as if nothing had taken place, fist still raised and speckled in red.

Had he made Ichiji bleed?

"What're you doing out here!? And why was that other Sanji about to shoot you!?"

"Uh," Sanji answered intelligently.

Luffy stared as though waiting for a reply, and Sanji took note of the shitty disguise he'd put on, hat covered in some sheet and his normal vest traded for a white one. It was Sabo's level of bad.

"What're you..?"

"I came to pick you up!"

Pick him up? Luffy was strong enough, but coming all this way for something like that was just... Sanji felt another bout of haziness come over him and pointedly squeezed the cut on his arm, hoping the pain would snap him out of it.

Luffy hadn't taken his eyes off Sanji, cheerfulness gone, replaced by some other emotion Sanji couldn't identify.

"So this is Monkey D. Luffy," he heard Yonji murmur, while Niji simply scowled at them, then at Ichiji, who was already getting to his feet.

"Let's take him out," Niji said after another beat had passed, leg shifting to spring.

Alarm bells went off in Sanji's brain. Was about to shout for Luffy to dodge when a gust of wind shot over his head, sending his bangs into a flurry. Except, it wasn't a breeze, he realized, when something smacked into Niji's chest, exploding into a smokescreen that had the entire cliff covered in an instant.

Next thing he knew, Luffy was grabbing his arm, and Sanji only had enough forethought to unsheathe a knife before they were plunging off the cliff into the army of soldiers waiting beneath. Landed with his feet on some poor shithead's stomach, knocking him to the dirt and using him as a springboard.

Luffy had already taken down all the guys surrounding him like bowling pins, charging into the thick of the crowd without a second of hesitation. Sanji was right behind him.

His reaction time was delayed though, he knew it, knife clumsily raised to parry a sword, barely managing to sidestep a blow that would've broken his ribs into smithereens. Only fully escaped the latter thanks to yet another capsule shooting passed him, this time hitting the enemy square in the face.

Followed the trajectory to the treeline, where a figure was standing, the largest slingshot Sanji had ever seen held in their hands. When they noticed Sanji looking, they flashed him a thumbs up. Usopp.

Of course, that's when another soldier attacked him, this time a woman, smashing the butt of her rifle into his stomach. He doubled over. Barely rolled out of the way as bullets spattered the place he'd been kneeling.

Already, his muscles were burning, lungs gasping for air, vision unfocused. At this rate...

The crowd dispersed as Luffy smashed a tree trunk sized foot into the ground, shattering it, revealing a certain bastard standing near the treeline, spear in hand, eyes focused, flickering between the fighting figures. Waiting to launch a surprise attack.

A surge of anger pulsing through him, Sanji grit his teeth hard enough to hurt, hand moving mechanically for the pocket he'd stashed that knife. Now or never. Shoving himself to his feet, he made his way through the chaos, ducking and weaving, elbowing and shoving, until he was bursting into a sliver of a clearing, the bastard already waiting with his spear readied several yards away.

"You're going to go through with this marriage, Sanji," he was declaring—the prick. "Even if I have to drag you there myself!"

"Just try it," Sanji retorted, though it was spoken so low, he doubted the bastard heard. Not that he would've listened anyways.

In a blur of movement, the bastard shot into the sky, ankles glowing, spear overhead. For a moment, Sanji simply watched, processing, then as a shadow covered him, he realized he should be dodging. Barely managed it, trying to roll but it was more of a tumble, legs weak as jelly, head throbbing worse than ever. Dirt exploded near his shoulder, bolts of electricity making the world flash white, debris flying everywhere, smacking into him. Heaved himself to a knee, knife gripped tight.

"Three years," Sanji murmured, suddenly unable to bear the sight of that bastard, "You left me in that hell to rot for three years. Why didn't you just kill me? As small as I was, it would've been easy for you, and if you were worried about cruelty, you could've just as easily ordered the soldiers to smother me in my sleep."

Sanji tried to regain his bearings as the bastard formed a reply, tried to make the thrumming stop, but he couldn't, and his head hurt, and he was so fucking tired, and everything was spinning and—

"I already considered such options long ago," the bastard admitted, drawing closer, "But as much as it pains me to say, my blood flows through your veins. Killing you directly was a feat my humanity wouldn't allow."

Sanji had already expected that answer. Had already known the bastard hadn't had the guts, finding it much easier to send him on suicide missions and claim it was Sanji's own fault when they went sour. Fucking coward. As if he had a scrap of humanity in him.

"You say all that shit, but you didn't give a damn about driving your wife to her death, nor did stripping your own kids of their emotions faze you in the slightest."

The bastard wasn't listening anymore—typical—already charging with his spear held high, yelling about the pride of Germa and all kinds of shit Sanji couldn't care less about. Instead, he studied the spear shooting for him. Didn't think to dodge, not even as the tip sliced off his tie, inches from skewering him along with it. Would've, if a plant hadn't sprung to life between them, vines coiling around the weapon and up the bastard's arms. Left him vulnerable.

Heard Usopp shout in the distance, noted his slingshot was pointed towards them. Couldn't figure out why, nor did he dwell on it, grabbing the spear's hilt and planting his foot firmly into the bastard's solar plexus. Sent him tumbling backward with the force, collapsing to a knee, much like Sanji had been moments ago.

Now!

Abandoning the spear, he twirled his knife around, more than ready to end this once and for all. Ignored the part of him instinctually cringing away from this, away from killing his own blood. He had to do this. Had to.

For an instant, the pain and exhaustion faded, replaced by the same grim determination he usually felt near the more gruesome parts of his job. Refused to falter, even as his knife plunged down.

Speckles of red spiraled upwards, blurring, pattering onto his sleeve.

Slowly, he registered what'd happened, the hand that'd grabbed his knife, the fingers wrapped around the blade already soaked in blood. A heartbeat passed, the sound of something cracking, the blade shattering into pieces, crushed in a fist that retreated. A heaving breath, two, three, while Sanji looked on in shock, not breathing at all.

"Sanji..." stopped long enough to take another gulp of air before yelling, "What the hell are you doing!?"

"Lu..ffy..." he stuttered, words rolling off his tongue without permission. "What are..?"

Then, the anger followed.

Grabbing Luffy by the front of his vest, Sanji yanked him closer, stumbling to fill the gap between them, not caring about the blood dripping from a half-closed fist, nor the scratches scattered along Luffy's arms and cheeks.

"Get the hell out my way Luffy! This is none of your business, damn it!"

Luffy didn't reply, simply staring with an unreadable scowl.

The weeks he'd spent imprisoned, the mocking sneers, the sickening laughs, the stress, and helplessness, it all came crashing back to him like a blow to the gut.

Before he could process it, he was already lashing out; a Haki coated fist smashing into Luffy's jaw with enough force to send him skidding into the dirt.

"You fucking bastard! What the hell do you know!?"

Luffy pushed himself to his feet, rubbing the color already blossoming on his jaw. Still had that expression. Seeing it was like hot coals heaping on his head.

"Damn you..." was already charging, this time, bashing a Haki covered knee into Luffy's gut. "Get the hell out of here!"

Knew that hurt, saw it in his eyes, in every part of his body as he hit the ground, as he lay there coughing. Yet, he was soon standing again, firmly planted between Sanji and the bastard.

"You don't know shit!" Sanji snapped, rushing him, jerking him up by the front of his vest. Slugged him. Again and again and again and again.

Shifting his weight to his left, he slung Luffy over his shoulder, sending him rolling several feet away.

"Screw you, always dragging everyone along with your selfish fucking whims! I'm not one of your crewmates, damn it, why can't you just leave me the hell alone already!?"

Thought it was over. Loosened his grip on the broken knife's hilt, began to walk away. Then, Luffy was up again, staggering, covered in dirt. For a moment, his image overlapped with another, Luffy's eyes seeming to grow round, to grow curious, "Say, are you a cook?"

"Sanji,"

Sanji flinched. Whether from the memory or Luffy, he didn't know.

Rather than yell, rather than glare at him like the trash he was, Luffy still looked on calmly, "Feel better now?"

Opened his mouth, closed it. Didn't understand. Was Luffy mocking him? No, Luffy wasn't like that. This didn't make any sense. Why wasn't he fighting back?

That seemed answer enough to Luffy, who grinned despite the faint yellow and brown crescents already forming along his cheeks, despite the blood dripping from his nose, the ring around his left eye.

"That's good," he said, "Honestly, Sanji, you can be so dumb sometimes. We're friends. Of course, I'd come."

"..Eh?"

His legs were weak. Crumpled. Couldn't move, couldn't even think to, the strength he'd gathered dissipating as if it'd never existed. Sat there longer than he should've in a silence no one seemed willing to break. Wanted a cigarette.

"What about Nami?" he managed, "And Chopper? And Brook? Your crewmates are in trouble, you know."

"Nami and the rest are fine," Luffy dismissed easily.

Sanji was tempted to argue, but there was something there, something in the way Luffy spoke that made him believe. Made him believe in everything about Luffy, his dream, his strength, everything. Wondered if this was how Robin felt at Enies Lobby. Damn it.

"Jinbei already explained everything," he continued, smile taking a serious tint, "Zoro and the others should be getting them right now."

Felt like he should know that name.

"So, don't worry about it. You don't have to do this for us."

Deciding he needed that cigarette, Sanji shuffled until his knees were close to his chest, a hand dug into his pocket while Luffy rubbed his bloodied nose on his arm.

"Enough," the bastard grunted, drawing their focus to him once more, "Weapon!"

Per command, several of the soldiers held out their swords, bowing their heads in the most sincere signs of respect.

"Bastard," Sanji spat out, hands shaking to such an extent, he almost dropped his lighter, "He'd attack you even after you saved him!"

Luffy didn't react beyond shooting an expressionless glance over his shoulder. A heartbeat passed, then he was shifting, a hand pushing his hat in place, a gesture Sanji recognized as Luffy getting serious.

"Sanji. I'll handle this." without a pause in between, Luffy was squaring off against the bastard, a finger jabbed his way, "Hey, helmet guy! You're Sanji's 'Captain,' aren't you? I'm gonna kick your ass and take Sanji as my cook!"

The bastard wasn't amused, clutching his sword tight enough to strangle it. "Challenging me? How arrogant!"

Sanji didn't know how to handle this. Looked at the scattered soldiers watching, his brothers gaping from the rocks, Usopp at the other side of the clearing, none seeming sure what to do either. Looked passed Luffy, to the bastard glaring like he wanted nothing more than to skewer them both. Felt something akin to desperation pulse through his nerves like a shockwave.

"Oi, don't joke around, Luffy! I—"

"Joking?" Luffy interrupted without tearing his gaze from the bastard, "As if I'd joke about something like this."

"Huh?"

"You've known him a long time, haven't you?" Luffy asked, and it occurred to Sanji he had no clue what his real relation to Germa was.

Wasn't about to break the news, far more interested in studying the cigarette between his fingers.

A sigh that sounded exasperated, "You're always doing this. You have to kill those guys to keep Nami safe, you have to save Alabasta for Vivi, you have to kill my dad, but Sanji, what do you want!?"

Started to reply, broke off, thought better of it.

What he wanted. What would that be? Didn't he... Didn't he want this? He'd certainly told himself that enough.

While the soldiers gathered to watch the show, Sanji focused on the dirt beneath his knees. What he wanted. Why couldn't he answer such a simple question anymore? Hadn't he before? Hadn't he told Nami about the All Blue?

The duel had started, Luffy leaping into the air, shooting his foot at Judge like a bullet.

In all honesty, there were plenty of things Sanji wanted, weren't there? To cook, to flirt with the ladies, to be a powerful fighter, to search for the All Blue... just to be sure. This revelation didn't satisfy him. No. There was more, and he knew it. A nagging itch he'd had since meeting Luffy in the bar that day, one that'd followed him around no matter how much he'd rejected it, no matter what he'd done to make it go away.

He wanted... more than anything, he... he'd always...

"Luffy!"

Luffy slowed a tinge, turning enough so that Sanji could meet his eyes.

"I wanna go back to the Sunny!"

Luffy was dodging another blow, and Sanji was afraid to watch, afraid of what he'd say, what he'd do, that even after all the times he'd chased him down, hounding him to join, Luffy would reject him. Would notice how worthless he was. It wasn't until he heard a cheerful shout that he realized Luffy was right. That he truly was a hopeless moron.

"FINALLY!"

The cry slammed into the clearing with the force of a tidal wave, startling Sanji. A whoop from Usopp's direction soon followed.

"Sanji!"

Snapped his head up, watching Luffy dive out of the way of a sword, gaze bright with concentration, "I'll definitely bring you back home!" hopping backward, he blew on his thumb, making his fist the size of an elephant and coating it in Haki. "So make me a feast when this is all over!"

On that note, he slammed it into the bastard with enough force to shatter the world beneath them, chunks of dirt and rock scattered as though a hurricane had blown through.

Sanji shielded his head, breath frozen in his lungs, wind threatening to bowl him over. Cigarette had been wasted, blown who-knows-where, but he couldn't care less, far more interested in the giant crater Luffy was standing over.

Looked at Sanji, grinning unrepentantly.

Sanji considered returning it. Might have, if not for the shadow that covered Luffy. Before he could question it, before he could reconsider, he was already racing forward, hilt gripped tightly in his hands. Could've used the sharp pieces left behind, could've killed him, but instead, he pivoted on a heel, smashing his foot into the bastard's gut and sending him tumbling into the hole again. The sword spiraled uselessly overhead, burying itself into the dirt inches from them.

"Give it up. It's over."

A snicker from beside him, Luffy turning with a 'thanks' that was sincere enough to make his chest flood with warmth. Meanwhile, the bastard pushed himself upright again, wobbled, fell.

"I want nothing to do with you people anymore."

All the times Sanji had fantasized saying this had tricked him into believing it would be an uplifting moment. That the heavyweight of his childhood would vanish immediately, along with the bitter feelings and desire to be loved by his family. He only felt empty. Felt the loss of a bond he'd never had, never would. This entire situation was shit, and he was still pissed, still hurting, but Luffy was right. They weren't worth it. Weren't worth a damn thing.

As he tossed the hilt aside, he couldn't recall a time he'd seen Luffy look prouder.

A second later, someone was tapping his shoulder, flower petals scattering on the breeze. When he turned, Robin was there, grinning, pulling him into her arms, hands carefully avoiding his back.

Yet, he didn't fully relax, couldn't fully relax, until he'd noticed everyone was there, Nami and Chopper standing by Usopp, Zoro already at Luffy's side where he belonged, Franky with Brook and some fishman, blowing his nose into a handkerchief as he screamed proclamations of love for them.

Closed his eyes, finally feeling safe again, finally feeling right, until—

"Ah. Luffy, that knife was poisoned, you know."

On cue, Luffy dropped to the ground, foam spewing from his mouth.

"AHHHH LUFFY!"

(107)

"It looks like the poison faded over the years," Sanji murmured, ducking behind a low-hanging tree, "Otherwise, he'd already be dead. Good thing I didn't actually use it."

Would've ended badly.

"IS THAT ALL YOU HAVE TO SAY!?" Nami and Chopper shrieked in sync.

He'd forgotten how loud they were. Rubbing at his temples, he said, "Is he gonna be all right?"

At that, Chopper sniffled, "I'm not sure. I've done all I can, but Luffy should be immune to poisons in the first place!"

Sanji considered asking. Opted not to. Figured any explanation given would be too hard to process in his condition.

Somebody crouched beside them, and shit, Sanji hadn't noticed the guy until now.

"Law?" Nami asked, voice tinged with hope. "Can't you give Luffy the same treatment you gave those kids back in Punk Hazard?"

"I'd need an enclosed space for that treatment, Nami-ya," Law replied, "Otherwise, I may wind up losing some of his body parts."

Sanji decided asking about that would be out of his cognitive abilities as well.

Crunching grass, Zoro was marching over from where he'd been keeping watch. "Then just pick him up and carry him to the ship for now. We're still being pursued, we don't have time to deal with these two idiot's crap."

"'Pursued?'" Sanji repeated blankly.

Zoro looked at him as if he'd said something worrying. For some reason, everyone else had fallen silent as well, staring at him with varying amounts of pity or shock. Stayed that way until Chopper edged closer, hoofs pressed together at his chest.

"S-Sanji, don't you remember? Big Mom's army attacked us. They started fighting with Germa."

Sanji blinked. Had something like that taken place? Speaking of which, how long had they been sitting here? Better yet, how long—?

World was spinning and flying towards him at the same instant. Didn't process he'd collapsed until Chopper was practically leaping onto him, yelling words he couldn't understand.

Rather than fight the feeling, he reached out a hand, clamping it around Chopper's furry arm and choking out, "R-Reiju. F-Find— R-Reiju can—"

He could never recall if he'd finished that sentence or not.

(108)

Sanji had forgotten about the cufflets. That was his first thought upon waking from a coma. It was almost laughable. After everything he'd gone through, everything that'd happened, all the time he'd wasted fucking sleeping, his first thought was that Reiju had saved him. Had given him fakes. What else could it be!? According to Chopper, they'd been sailing for over a week since escaping Germa. If the explosives were real, his hands would've already been blown clean off.

Considering he'd been glaring at his perfectly intact hands for over five minutes, that hadn't happened. Almost wished it had. Cursing her name and never thinking of her again would be so much easier. As things stood, not only had she saved his ass three times over, leaving the tracker with Luffy, getting him out of the cellar, switching out the cuffs for fakes; but she'd also saved Luffy's life.

That was the sole deduction he could reach after hearing the rubber idiot bouncing around above deck. If they'd gone the traditional route, Luffy would likely be laid out in the bed beside him. Didn't matter how skilled Law and Chopper were, didn't matter how much it'd faded, nor how resilient Luffy was, Sanji had bought high-class poison. Had intended to kill Monkey D. fucking Dragon with it, no way in hell he would've skimped out on quality.

When he'd told Usopp that, he'd snorted out a laugh, "Oi, don't be so sure about that, Luffy's gotten even more logic-defying over the years."

Sanji wasn't sure about that, though decided to take his word for it. Usopp knew stuff like that.

"You've defied logic yourself," Sanji remarked, reaching for a smoke, "How did you bulk up like that, did you gain a whole lot of weight or something?"

Usopp visibly stiffened over the giant fucking slingshot he was making repairs to, red crawling up his neck, "N-No, of course not, why would you— why would you think that!? I, the Great Captain Usopp just happen to have an excellent training regime and dietary routine!"

"Diet?"

This time, Usopp nearly fell off the stool, desperately trying to catch his slingshot before it hit the floor of the makeshift Infirmary. "Ah, uh, f-forget about that already! Anyways should you really be smoking right now!? Won't Chopper get mad!?"

Sanji considered that for a fraction of second before popping it in his mouth regardless. "I've been in a coma for about a week, can't I at least have this much?"

Wasn't sure he could survive without his smokes. Guess that made five times Reiju had saved him.

Usopp didn't seem impressed with his reasoning. "He only stepped out to tell Luffy and the others you're awake now, Sanji. He'll be back any minute."

"I'll just have to make this one fast then."

"How fast do you plan on smoking it!?"

"SANJIIII!"

At a shout from down the hall, they both paused and looked to the door. Usopp was the first to react, hopping to his feet and tugging at his hair.

"AHH! This is bad—Luffy's coming! Put that out, Sanji! I'm supposed to be watching you! Chopper's gonna yell at me, you know!"

"Like hell I will!" Sanji retorted without missing a beat, shifting so that a shoulder was protectively between Usopp and his cigarette.

A good thing too, because Usopp dropped his slingshot and dove onto the bed, grappling for the damned thing with everything he had. Which was more than enough given the condition Sanji was in. Not that he'd surrender without a fight!

By the time the door had sauntered open, the two of them were fending the other off for dear life, Sanji shoving Usopp away with an elbow to his neck, Usopp feebly clawing for the cigarette with one hand while the other tried to pry Sanji's arm off.

A resolute sigh, that sounded nothing like Luffy or Chopper, "Would you two doofuses knock it off already!?"

Didn't give them a chance to comply before a pair of fists were rocketing into their heads. He'd recognize that incredibly powerful yet lovely fist anywhere!

"N-Nami!"

An icy glare met his swooning grin. He promptly sobered and averted his eyes.

"Well?" she sniffed, plopping onto the stool Usopp had been using and crossing her legs. "You have anything to say for yourself?"

Usopp shifted until he was sitting cross-legged at the foot of the bed, trying to be discreet as he glanced between them. Failing. Moron.

Sanji studied his knuckles, the scars littering them, some from combat, some from accidents in the Kitchen.

"After everything we were put through because of you, don't think I'll let you off easy. And that's not even counting how you stood us up!"

He didn't know how to respond to that. Thankfully, he didn't have to.

"Because of your actions, you're debt has been tripled by eight billion Berry," she informed him in a business-like tone, "I expect payment up front."

"Y-Yes Nami."

"And, for almost breaking your promise to me, that's an additional three billion Berry!"

For a moment, Sanji stared, not knowing what she meant. Then, he remembered that night two years ago, remembered telling Nami about the All Blue, remembered her insisting he take her there someday.

"And another two billion for forgetting," she tacked on, tone cold enough to send chills down his spine.

"Y-Yes, ma'am."

Was too terrified to do anything besides agree. Usopp winced at him in sympathy.

Apparently satisfied, Nami nodded, "Good."

Hopping to her feet, she headed for the door, pausing briefly enough to cast him a smile. "Welcome back."

She was gone before he could reply. For several seconds, the only sound to fill the room was the occasional wave sloshing against the outside of the ship. Then, Sanji fell over, joy crashing into him.

"Nami welcomed me back! She must be in love with me!"

"Oi..." a pause, "Hey, now that I think about it, where's Luffy?"

Sanji blinked, pushing himself up on unsteady arms, "No clue. I would've thought he'd be crashing in here by now."

"Yeah, same here," Usopp said, eyes raking over the room as if Luffy could be hiding somewhere inside. "I wonder—"

Footsteps thudded in the distance, growing louder and louder until the door was literally being kicked open, Luffy sliding in with a steaming bowl cradled in his arms. Thankfully, Usopp seemed every bit as perplexed as Sanji, raising a hesitant finger towards the bowl.

"Uh, Luffy... what's that?"

With wider than life grin, Luffy shoved it closer, revealing that, no, it hadn't been steam drifting from the bowl, it was a purple miasma. He had no idea what the fuck Luffy was holding, but he wanted it the hell away from him.

"I figured you'd be hungry!" Luffy said, then, his smile twitched, and he looked almost... nervous? What the fuck. "I'm not very good at cooking though."

Then it hit him. Luffy had made that insult to cooking itself.

Usopp opened his mouth, probably to say something similar. Sanji kicked him, hard.

"That so?" he asked, taking the bowl from Luffy. Upon closer inspection, he wasn't sure all of this had even been cooked. Was fairly certain that fish floating around was still clinging to life, actually. The rest was overcooked to the point of resembling molten igneous rocks.

While Sanji poked at the whatever-the-fuck this was supposed to be, Luffy babbled on and on about how he'd made it, catching the fish himself—because, yes, he had thrown it right in the broth without cooking it—putting meat he'd somehow managed to keep in his pocket for over a day in there, and by the end of it, Sanji felt his appetite slip away. He'd barely eaten in over two weeks. That took talent.

Luffy watched him expectantly, smile unwavering.

Do it for him, Sanji told himself.

Fished the spoon out of the broth—and shit, why was it so thick!? What the fuck—no, don't question it. Don't go there.

Usopp's skin was turning ashen, head slowly shaking as his eyes practically screamed: "Don't, you'll die!"

Swallowing the bile rising in his throat, Sanji took a spoonful of the broth, thick enough to be pudding, and promptly shoved it into his mouth. A thought struck him.

"Is there Cola in this?"

Luffy's mouth fell open, "Oh! I forgot! Franky wanted you to feel better too, so he told me to give you some!"

Sanji highly doubted Franky had meant 'add it to the soup.' At least, he really hoped not. He took another spoonful.

"Is that an entire tangerine?"

And why had he cooked that but not the fish?

"Yeah! Nami said those are good for you, so I put it in!" he sounded so proud of himself Sanji couldn't bring himself to say anything. "The fish was Zoro's idea, though!"

Pictured the mosshead smirking somewhere aboard the ship. That bastard.

A puff of air, Usopp was trying to muffle a laugh into his palm.

"Though I 'ppreciate it, Cap'n, I'm not feeling up for fish, right now," Sanji said, plucking it out and tossing it to Usopp, who scrambled to catch it, realizing at an astounding rate he'd be beaten within an inch of his life if he didn't. "Usopp was just saying how hungry he was though."

First lie he'd ever made convincing, and it was over something petty. He was proud of that.

Rather than be offended, Luffy was practically glowing as he turned to Usopp, "What, really!? Usopp, eat some!"

If looks could kill, Sanji would be dead ten times over. He hid a smirk behind another spoonful. Shit, this was the weirdest flavor. Was there actual seawater in this!? Would explain how the fish survived as long as it had.

Usopp's grayish skin promptly turned green, "I-I'm not really..."

Luffy's grin remained, eyes glimmering with hope.

"I—" Usopp broke off, head bowing. Sanji was starting to think he'd broken when Usopp tipped his chin up, tears streaming down his cheeks as he declared, "I love my fish like this!"

Almost gagged as Usopp proceeded to swallow it whole, fainting on the mattress mere seconds afterward.

Sanji had finished his soup from hell at this point, setting it on the desk next to him. "Thanks, Cap'n, it was delicious."

"No problem!" Luffy replied, and he was laughing again, that shitty laugh that pissed off and warmed Sanji to no end.

"Luffy,"

"Yeah?"

"You sure about this?"

A beat of silence yet it felt like decades. Sanji was sure Luffy must've changed his mind, because, why else would that moron be quiet!? He was never quiet! Heart was pounding, then the mattress dipped, and Luffy was sitting there, hat in his hands.

"Sanji. You worry too much. 'Course I want you here."

And there it was, after years of being rejected, of being thrown into hell in hopes he'd burn, someone actually wanted him. Wanted him around. Wanted him despite everything he'd done.

Throat tightening in the beginnings of a sob, he swiveled his gaze away, not wanting Luffy to see. Without a word, Luffy shoved his hat onto Sanji's head, tipped in such a way, it covered the upper half of his face. Heard Luffy jump to the floor, felt him pat his shoulder reassuringly.

"S'okay Sanji," he said, as if it was such a simple thing, "We're all friends."

Sanji cried until he couldn't any longer, Luffy a comforting presence at his side, never speaking, never interrupting. When he was done, he tried to return the hat, but Luffy declined, insisting he keep it for the rest of the day, much to Sanji's confusion. He'd obliged, however, keeping it on as he prepared the feast Luffy had requested on Whole Cake Island—always a selfish bastard, though warmth swept over him at the thought.

Zoro used his actual fucking name not long after, a feat Sanji hadn't known him capable of, and they'd had a drink together, discussing Kaido, Jinbei joining the crew, making fun of Law. Ended up having their bodies swapped around for a full hour thanks to the latter. Sensitive bastard.

By the time they'd arrived at Zou, where some brat named Momo was waiting on the Sunny, things were relatively back to normal, and he reflected, though he regretted standing them up in Sabaody, maybe it had been for the best if it had lead to this.

Being with them may not solve all his problems, may not erase the things he'd done, the things that'd been done to him, but—

Luffy rocketed onto the Sunny with a joyful shout, Usopp and Chopper not far behind, the rest watching from the railing, grinning at the younger members while Nami created a path of cloud to walk across.

—it was a start.

(109)

"Luffy,"

"Hm?"

"Thank you."

A laugh, "Of course!"

A/N: FINALLY, I AM FREE! AHH I suck at endings but I feel somewhat content w this one, just let me know if I left any loose ends behind and I'll try to make the proper corrections! Anyways thanks for all the amazing reviews, and for sticking with it this far even tho it's so slow at updating! Couldn't have finished it without your support!