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Sanji had a few hours left before joining the palace’s cooks to prepare for the feast. Using his extra time, he sat down by the railing with the can of the Germa suit in his hands.
“Sanji-kun.” Nami-san stood beside him as he lifted his head to meet her gaze.
Frankly, he felt relieved she called him that way again. He was also glad that the pain in her eyes was finally replaced with joy.
“Me and Robin are going to walk around the capital. Care to join us?” Nami-san offered with a smile.
The suggestion was tempting, but his mind was too occupied with the stupid can in his hand to give his beautiful nakama the proper attention they deserved.
“I’m sorry Nami-san, maybe later.”
“That’s okay, Sanji-kun.” Nami-san’s smile transformed into a frown. “By the way, I doubled your debt. For being an idiot and not telling us that something was wrong before it escalated. If you ever do that again, I’ll triple it.”
Sanji smiled back at her. “I won’t do it again, Nami-san.” His smile faded as he averted his gaze. “And hopefully it won’t happen again.”
A gentle hand ruffled his hair and his cheeks warmed. “I’ll see you later, Sanji-kun.” Nami-san pulled back her hand and walked away before he got the chance to process what just happened.
Sanji was about to raise his hand to check his hair when he felt the forgotten can still in it. He sighed, starting to turn it around again and again. But no matter from which angle he looked at it, it didn’t make things clearer.
“Oi, cook,” Zoro’s voice interrupted his thoughts. Sanji was too absorbed in examining the can; his haki missed the idiot’s presence.
“What do you want?” Sanji snarled as Zoro sat down next to him, his usual calm expression in place.
“I smelled your brain frying from the other side of the ship,” Zoro remarked with a smirk. Sanji knew it was Zoro’s way to offer him an opening if he wanted to share what weighed him down. Sanji wasn’t sure if he wanted to take it.
Zoro must have figured it out because he added, “What are you gonna do with it?” He pointed at the can.
Sanji sighed. Turning the can over and over didn’t help. Maybe mosshead would have something useful to say. “That’s what I’m trying to figure out.”
Zoro hummed in response, waiting for Sanji to continue. “This has its advantages that I’m currently lacking, like invisibility and a shield. Could be helpful.”
“Won’t it erase your personality again?” Zoro’s concern was evident, but only because Sanji had learned how to recognise it long ago.
“I don’t think so. The only changes that happened after I wore the suit a few times were physical and less mental.”
“Less?” Zoro questioned, his eyebrow raising.
“I used my hands to fight and kill Queen,” Sanji uttered with the burden of guilt. “I’m not sure if it was because the fight was intense or because the suit changed me more.”
Sanji turned the can again. “But, I can ask Chopper, Franky, and Usopp to check it and make sure it’s clear to use.” It was still risky but Sanji knew they wouldn’t let him use it until they were 100% certain.
“It shouldn’t be so hard as they only need to check if it could affect me mentally. It won’t change a thing if they find out that the suit can affect me physically, because I already have all the physical changes now anyway.” It hurt. He never wanted to have any more resemblance to his brothers; sharing the same face was enough.
“So why haven’t you given it to them?” Zoro asked, a hint of genuine curiosity in his voice.
“It’s a Germa suit.” Sanji spewed the words with venom. “The same shitty bastard who created it threatened to destroy everything that matters to me. That wasn’t enough for him, just like it never is, so he took away everything he saw as a 'failure' in me."
Sanji’s mind raced with memories of the nearly two months he had spent as the so-called perfect soldier. He had been robbed of his compassion, his love for cooking, and his genuine dedication to his crew. The qualities that defined him had been forcefully torn away, replaced by cold efficiency and blind obedience.
He hated looking back at how he had acted during that time, devoid of care for anyone or anything except fulfilling his orders. Judge had twisted his thoughts, making him believe that becoming this emotionless soldier was the necessary path. His values had been perverted, his sense of self nearly obliterated.
Living as Judge’s ideal soldier had been a relentless nightmare, stripping away everything that made him human.
His throat clenches with tears, stifling his words. "He changed me, Zoro, to be exactly who I swore I would never become.”
The pain and anger festered inside him, like a wound that refused to heal. “And there was no reason for him to do it! In Judge’s original twisted plan, I would have been married off to the Big Mom pirates a day after he fixed me.” Sanji spat out the last words with utter revulsion. They made his skin crawl, and he noticed Zoro flinch slightly, clearly disturbed by the implication as well.
“So to him, in the end, his ‘Perfect Soldier’ would have been Big Mom’s. Not another cog in the Germa machine.”
“So what advantage could they get from doing this to me?” Sanji's voice broke as tears threatened to spill from the corners of his eyes. “Hell! If the changes weren’t gradual, I wouldn’t even have enough emotion left to consider saving their asses at the wedding!”
Each word felt like ripping open an old wound, exposing his vulnerability. The weight of his past, the betrayal, and the unwanted transformation bore down on him, but voicing it brought a sense of release he desperately needed.
Overcome by anger and hatred, the tears finally fell. He felt openly vulnerable but trusted Zoro enough to know he wouldn’t mock him for it.
Sanji glanced down at the can in his hands, his fingers tightening around it as if trying to crush the memories it represented. “The vicious Vinsmokes, this evil kingdom… I don’t want any part of it.”
“Then what do you want?” Zoro asked what should have been the obvious question, yet it didn’t cross Sanji’s mind.
Looking at the can, the answer became simple. Sanji stood up and Zoro followed him. Sanji bent down for a moment to place the can on the grass before he straightened again. He closed his eyes and concentrated.
He hadn’t activated his flames for a long time. Losing his emotions and relying on the suit made sure of it.
He thought about the way the Vinsmokes hurt him as a kid and how it didn’t satisfy them, so they came back years later to take all the happiness he found in his time away from them.
He thought of Momo, who postponed the feast for a whole month just for him and supported him when he disobeyed commands.
He thought of Law, who gave up the autograph because he knew it brought Sanji pain. Of Law, who gave him a cooking book because he knew it would make him happy.
He thought of his mother, who saved him at the cost of her life and spent their time together showering him with love. He thought of Reiju, who gave him a chance to escape hell and find heaven.
He thought about his dad and the people of the Baratie, about his crew that cared for him so much that they never gave up on him.
He felt all the love and he felt the passion.
Sanji heard a fire burning and opened his eyes. With blue flames, he raised his leg as he stared at the can with disgust. With a swift movement, it burned under his foot, leaving no traces behind.
Never Vinsmoke Sanji again.
No matter what’s written on his wanted poster, no matter what people like Queen would say, Sanji knew who he was. He was a first-rate cook of the sea, son of Red Leg Zeff, and a pirate - Black Leg Sanji from the Strawhats.
Sanji felt whole and liberated as he finally freed himself from the tormenting part of his past. He inhaled, breathing in the signs of home.
The smell of the ocean and the smell of sake and metal from Zoro. The laughter of his nakama on the other side of the ship. Sanji barely got the chance to exhale before Zoro spoke again.
“Oi, cook.” Sanji turned to see Zoro grinning at him. “Catch.”
Something sailed through the air towards him, small enough to be easily caught. The moment his fingers touched its familiar surface, recognition flashed through him. Lifting his hand, he verified his suspicion.
His lighter.
A few days prior, as they meandered through Wano, Luffy had caught Sanji eyeing a box of cigarettes on a stool. Luffy, with his usual enthusiasm, had encouraged him to buy it, claiming it looked "so cool" with the pirate symbol (a death warning, but Luffy didn’t need to know that).
Despite buying the cigarettes days ago, Sanji had left them untouched in his pocket, unable to bring himself to use them without his lighter.
His precious lighter, adorned with a sculpted woman who bore a striking resemblance to his beloved mother, had been lost on Whole Cake Island. It was his sole reminder of her, the closest thing to having her by his side, taken from him in that dreadful place where Judge had stripped away everything dear to him.
Yet, against all odds, here it was in his palm.
“How?” Sanji asked, his voice tinged with bewilderment and a glimmer of hope.
Zoro shrugged nonchalantly. “Usopp made it.”
This didn’t explain how Usopp had realised he’d lost his lighter, nor why the stupid mosshead had it now. If this was all the information Zoro was willing to divulge, Sanji resolved to ask Usopp later for the full story; he would tell it better anyway.
Regardless of how it had transpired, his nakama had given him back a piece of his mother. Sanji smiled softly as he traced the lighter, savouring every intricate line and curve.
It was slightly different from his old one, but that did not diminish his affection for it. On the contrary, knowing it was a heartfelt gift from his nakama made him treasure this lighter even more.
He retrieved a cigarette from the box emblazoned with the ominous death-warning pirate symbol and lit it with a flick of his newly returned lighter.
As he exhaled, releasing a plume of smoke into the open air, he glanced back at Zoro. Much as he loathed to admit it, Zoro had done a great deal for him lately.
Zoro had given him orders to ensure they could save him, clearly suffering from it himself. Also complimented his food to try and tick his emotions back, returned his beloved lighter, and listened to his problems with surprising patience.
Sanji removed the cigarette from his mouth, holding it between his fingers as he lowered it slightly. Gritting his teeth, he forced the words out, setting his pride aside, “Thank you, marimo.”
“Don’t mention it, fourth place.” Zoro baited, smirking with a glint of mischief in his eyes. Sanji felt his eyebrow twitch in irritation. “Asshole! Those shitty bounty posters mean nothing!”
“Whatever you say, fourth place.” Zoro shrugged indifferently, and that did it! A flaming kick met the blade of Wado Ichimonji before Zoro drew the rest of his swords.
Amidst the fiery exchange of heated clashes of feet and blades, a sense of bliss washed over Sanji as he read the unspoken words beneath Zoro's usual marimo demeanour.
He missed that idiot too.