Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

A relative quiet settles over the Thousand Sunny the day after they leave Wano. 

Other than their two years apart, Wano was probably the longest any of them had stayed in one place since joining the crew. Sanji felt oddly homesick for it as they sailed off, even though Wano couldn’t be more different to the places he’d called home. Kamabakka, the Sunny, the Merry, Baratie. And that hopeless place before that, that was neither house nor home but is undisputedly his place of birth nonetheless. 

Sanji likes the people of Wano. They’re resilient, strong. They’ve been beaten down but their thirst for freedom hasn't wavered. And although some of their customs are odd to Sanji, the people of Wano are kind. Generous to one another, though they had all been starving. Sanji can relate to that. He can’t help thinking that Zeff would enjoy Wano. He’ll have to write the old man a letter or something. 

But neither his fondness for Wano nor his fondness of its people fully explains why he’s apprehensive about leaving it behind.

No, the real reason is another problem altogether. A very Zoro shaped problem. 

Things have been… different between them since they met again after two years apart. They’ve both grown. Sanji learned a lot about himself. Away from Zeff’s particular brand of toxic masculinity (Sanji owes the man his life, but his ideas about manliness are not as universal as he’d been taught) he realises that maybe it isn’t so bad if his gaze lingers on the swordsman a little too long sometimes. Like magnets, Sanji has always gravitated to Zoro. It took an island of drag queens and trans women for Sanji to stop trying to reverse the polarity. 

He can’t say for sure what changed for Zoro, but if he had to guess, it’s about Sabaody. They had been separated, defeated easily, they could have died. Ace did die. They aren’t immortal. This isn’t a game. Maybe that made Zoro think about how short their lives could be. Or maybe his directionally challenged heart had finally pointed north to Sanji. 

It happened after Punk Hazard. 

In the middle of the night, Sanji had awoken from a nightmare and had come up onto the deck to cool down. He leans against the railing and lights a cigarette and does his best to forget. 

Needles. Drugs. Experiments. Children who were not people but were test subjects. Four little boys who had numbers instead of names. What did a scientist do when a study was unsuccessful? Discard it. Maybe write a peer reviewed paper on his hopeless, worthless, weak little test subject.

That’s in the past. He is not a Vinsmoke and he will never again darken its hallways with his gross failure genetics. So why is seeing those children in that lab still so hard? 

His brain is working so fast he doesn’t notice Zoro until the other man is right next to him. He at least has the wherewithal not to flinch. 

“You don’t like medical stuff, huh, Curls?” Zoro leans against the railing next to Sanji and glances at him. Sanji snorts and flicks some ash from his cigarette. He watches as it catches in the breeze and floats away into the dark sky.

“Yeah? What makes you say that?”

“You hate your checkups with Chopper. You get creative at avoiding them as long as possible. He’s noticed. I’ve noticed.”

There’s a brief and oddly companionable silence. They’ve been giving each other increasingly meaningful, lingering gazes since their reunion on Sabaody. They both know it’s only a matter of time, but someone needs to make the first move and there’s never a good moment. Or maybe they’re in silent competition to see who can hold out longer. Edging, but with smooching your rival. 

“...And now this. The way you looked at those kids. Like they were gonna attack you or something. Like you were scared.”

“Like hell I was scared of some snot nosed fucking brats!” Sanji hisses. He flounders when Zoro’s stupid green eyebrows raise. “It’s not like that. I wasn’t scared of… I’m not. Scared.”

It sounds like a lie to his own ears. He deflates and inhales on his cigarette to stall for time, exhaling forcefully like he’s trying to push out all his bad memories with the fragrant smoke.

“...Yeah. Okay, I hate doctors. Not Chopper, he’s great. He’s always patient with me. But it’s not the first time I’ve seen human experimentation. This world fucking sucks. Looking at people like they’re numbers on a page. What’s with that?” Sanji shivers. Zoro wraps an arm around his shoulders. It feels nice. But now isn’t the time to mention that Sanji himself had been the experiment. That’s a long story, and it’s one he had vowed never to tell. If Zoro is curious as to where Sanji had seen this before, he doesn’t show it.

“We’ve seen a lot of shit, cook. There’s no shame if some of it sticks with you,” Zoro looks so painfully earnest that Sanji can’t help himself. He leans in and their lips meet. A sweet, chaste kiss. 

When it’s over, Zoro smiles at him, and they spend the rest of that evening watching the stars. Hand in hand. 

And then they were separated at Dressrosa. Then Zou happened, and Sanji left, going to see Big Mom alone and getting caught in the clutches of his birth family again. Sanji, who had just kissed Zoro, who very much wanted to kiss Zoro again, left to get married. 

They haven’t talked about it. On Wano, it was easy to avoid Zoro - it’s a big place. He had dodged Zoro’s attempts at starting a conversation, had made excuses. Ran like a coward. 

But now they’re back on the Sunny. She’s a big ship, but there’s only so far Sanji can run. He’s aware he needs to grow a backbone and face this, but he’s also aware that he’s ruined the best thing to ever happen to him. 

Nobody has ever loved Sanji, not romantically. He believes himself to be undesirable. Internal homophobia aside, Sanji is not good enough for Zoro. He knows this. Zoro is going to be the greatest swordsman to ever live. How could Sanji ever be enough? He’s a failure of a prince. A damn good chef, but what’s that worth in the grand scheme of things? He can fight, but that’s not his passion, and he can’t woo Blackbeard or Akainu into submission with a souffle. As strong as Sanji is, Zoro is always there, just out of reach. Just ahead of him, so close he can almost brush his fingers against that tanned skin. But one step ahead, always. When it comes down to it, despite all his posturing, Sanji knows he is weak.

So he can’t have that conversation with Zoro, not yet. Because he was finally there. He finally had the person he had been chasing, the idiot mosshead who smiled just like that and made Sanji turn to goo on the inside. And Sanji knows he has ruined it. He knows it is over before it could really begin. He knows it’s all his fault. He has lost a lot, and losing Zoro might be something he can’t recover from. He’ll keep going, he still has his dream, his crew. But something will be irretrievably gone from Sanji’s soul. Zoro will not want him anymore. Just like everyone before him. And the worst part is that this is entirely justified. Guilt eats at him like a starving man eats lasagna. 

And then there’s the promise. 

“At the end of all this, if I lose my mind… I want you to kill me.”

He hasn’t explained any of that to Zoro, but Zoro deserves answers. Sanji tries to think of how to explain, what to say, but every time he even tries to grasp those words, they slip out of his fingers like sand. The fear that he might become like his brothers is still there, white hot when he contemplates it, when he stares up at the ceiling in the night trying to sleep and it all comes back to him. 

Please, no. Please, don’t take this from me. Don’t take me from me. I’m Sanji. I’m passionate, I’m angry, I’m kind, I’m selfish, I’m selfless, I love and I love and I-

So Sanji’s not there yet. He can’t talk to Zoro because it would be the beginning of the end and he’s not ready. Luckily, since they set sail yesterday, Zoro hasn’t approached. At breakfast, he had glared at Sanji, accusatorial. At lunch, the same. And again at dinner. For now, Zoro is staying away, and it’s probably the greatest kindness Sanji could hope for right now. 

The rest of the crew seem to sense that something is up, and have been uncharacteristically quiet. Which is still loud - Luffy and Chopper have been yelling and chasing each other around the ship with a gross looking mushroom one of them found in the bathroom - but it makes a nice change. 

Long may the peace continue, Sanji thinks. 

Four days later, Sanji is done with the peace and quiet. The awkwardness between himself and Zoro has reached a fever pitch. They’re not talking. Zoro isn’t even grunting at him anymore, he’s simply pretending Sanji doesn’t exist, which is worse. He had months of that when he was a child, locked in that dungeon, not existing, wanting to scream out to the world I’m here! Help me! I’m real! Father! Come back! Father? What did I do wrong?

The awkwardness has permeated the whole crew, and nobody seems to know what to say. Jimbe especially. He tries to say to Nami that maybe this is a good thing because the two men aren’t fighting, but she just sighs and explains that when they had been ‘fighting’, that had been them getting along. This is Sanji and Zoro actually falling out. And Sanji knows he has to be the one to bridge the gap. Zoro is clearly waiting for it. 

Nami even says as much. She pays Sanji a visit one evening, walking in whilst he’s doing the dishes and taking a seat. He smiles at her, wide, too wide, and sets the plate in his hands on the drying rack. 

“Nami dear! What can I do for you this lovely evening? You’re looking radiant tonight!” He coos. He might be more into broad chests and green hair now but the ladies still deserve all of the love and compliments he can give them.

Especially Nami. He put her through a lot. The crushing guilt returns, an immediate weight on his chest. 

“You know what you can do for me, Sanji,” Nami frowns at him, looking him over like she’s trying to figure him out. “Talk to Zoro.”

Sanji’s shoulders deflate. He feels like a scolded child.

“Ah, Nami dear… you see, that’s…”

“We’re all sick of it! He’s stomping around like an angry bull and you’re miserable. Talk. To. Him. It probably won’t be nearly as bad as you think!” 

Sanji sets another plate aside. He would never say Nami was wrong. Not out loud. But mentally he shakes his head. It’ll be every bit as painful as he thinks. As he deserves. 

“...Alright, Nami. I’ll talk to him.”

It’s time to stop delaying the inevitable. There’s an island up ahead. He’ll talk to Zoro then. At least if it goes badly, he’ll be able to escape, have somewhere to lay his head and mope before he picks himself back up. He won’t leave the crew. He promised Luffy. Never again. But having space away from Zoro afterwards is going to be necessary. The crew don’t need to see him heartbroken and pathetic. 

“Land ho!” Usopp calls from the Crow’s Nest, being the first to spot the next island. Luffy cheers and rushes to the figurehead to look out, but his eyesight isn’t nearly as good as Usopp’s and he whines with disappointment when he can’t see it. Nami consults her map. It’s a tough little island that has survived in the New World by being a useful place to stop for sailors - marines and pirates alike - when skirting around the previously closed off Wano. It hasn’t been that long since leaving Wano, but Sanji is already calculating the food they need to stock up on. Luffy is a black hole. He’d eat his crew if they were edible. Sanji glances at Chopper. Well, maybe not. 

They dock around the back of the island near a pretty little cove. It’s an autumn island and the weather is pleasant, if a little overcast. The cove is rocky, with the occasional tall tree that bows to the breeze and sheds an amber leaf every so often, which flutters down to bathe the coast in brilliant oranges and yellows and reds. Chopper runs through the leaves in his reindeer form, kicking them up with his hooves and throwing them in the air with his antlers. Robin watches like a proud mother. Luffy joins in, tumbling around in the crunchy leaves. An emperor of the sea, playing in autumn leaves like a child. Sanji feels a rush of affection for him. 

“Alright, I’m going to head into town to get some shopping,” Sanji announces, dropping down from the ship to the rocks. Usually, Zoro would come with him and be his pack mule, but Sanji doesn’t want the food to spoil if he ends up having to stay in town, so he’ll get it back to the Sunny first. “Usopp, you’re coming with.”

“Hah?” Usopp whines, likely thinking about having to carry all the heavy bags. “But…” then he looks over at Zoro, and a resigned look takes over his features. 

“I’ll make you something nice to make up for it, and we can see if we can find a shop you’ll like,” Sanji waves a hand. It’s nicer than he usually is, and sounds a lot like bribery, but he doesn’t feel like going alone. Usopp reluctantly fetches the cart and climbs down. He heads to the path, barely visible among the leaves. Zoro is standing at the bow of the ship, watching. Finally, Sanji takes a deep breath. He takes out a cigarette but doesn’t light it yet.

“Oy, mosshead.”

Zoro’s gaze is piercing. But not murderous, at least not right now. He doesn’t reply, but Sanji has his attention.

“...Let’s talk when I get back.”

His heart hammers in his chest. Zoro only has like five expressions, but somehow Sanji still can’t read him. 

“Fucking finally,” Zoro eventually says. “You better make this good.” 

Sanji knows he owes it to Zoro, owes him a proper explanation. But that’s not how they communicate in the open, where their crew can hear. At least that’s the case for Sanji. Sometimes he feels like he never says what he means, whilst Zoro only says what he means. Sanji’s in no mood to change that right now, so he rolls his eyes and lights his cigarette as he turns away. 

“Yeah, yeah, you overgrown bundle of kale. Don’t get lost before I get back.” 

He waves a hand and walks after Usopp. He doesn’t look back.

The town is nice enough. The people here are smart, they know how to hold their own. Being an ordinary human in the New World means you have to adapt or you die. The people here have adapted to have each other’s backs and to be shrewd traders. Having each other’s backs means that they’re rightfully wary of visitors, but happy enough to sell to Sanji at decent prices. He has haggling down to a fine art by this point. 

Sanji picks up the essentials first - rice, noodles, vegetables. The bulk buys. He leans over the stall of a herb and spice seller for a while, sniffing out the best spices. He doesn’t think it’s observation haki but it’s close, how well he can sniff out the best of the best. He buys some good looking rosemary - he can use it fresh for a bit, and then dry it when it starts to wilt. Good with lamb, maybe he can try to find some lamb chops or a roasting joint. Or two. Or three. He has to consider that Luffy will want one all to himself. Zoro’s protein intake has to be high, too, to maintain all those muscles that Sanji definitely doesn’t stare at when nobody’s looking.

He and Usopp leave the spice seller and wander down towards the shops nearer the coastline.

“Oh, hey!” Usopp’s eyes light up suddenly as he spots something. “There’s a gardening shop! Mind if I have a look?”

Sanji looks over the food and nods. They haven’t bought anything yet that it would be important to get back to the Sunny fast, like meat or dairy, so they can hang out for a bit. 

“I’ll wait outside with the stuff. Don’t take too long, Luffy’ll be wanting lunch in a couple hours.” 

Usopp salutes and heads into the shop. Sanji lights a cigarette and looks over the food without really seeing it. He’s thinking about Zoro instead. What’s going through the mosshead’s brain? Top ten cruellest ways to break up with your not-quite-boyfriend? Number six will shock you!

Sanji sighs and resists the urge to run his hand through his hair, just to check that he still can. He thought he had kicked that habit, but since Whole Cake Island he’s been doing it at least once a day. Mostly at night when nobody’s watching and the whispers of the past keep him awake, staring at the beautiful polished finish on the boy’s room ceiling. 

Suddenly, there’s a twinge in his gut. A sixth sense, like haki, but only for one specific thing.

There’s a woman in trouble. 

He debates for only a moment before taking off. Usopp will be out soon, and it’s unlikely anyone will steal their food before then. They’re at the edge of town, and the feeling is pulling him further out, past the rows of houses to a dirt track overlooking a cove similar to the one the Sunny is anchored in. The air is silent but for a few far off gulls calling above the sea.

There are a couple of small boats, but he doesn’t see any people. He looks around, feet crunching in the orange leaves. He reaches out with his haki, trying to sense where this woman might be. The air is strangely stagnant. Dry. He coughs briefly into his elbow.

There! A figure, blending into the piles of leaves, dressed in a red coat. A woman! Passed out! Sanji starts to run over. He has to help her, it’s his duty as a gentleman. It looks like a medical episode; there’s nobody here to fight. He can pick her up and skywalk her straight into town to find a doctor. If he's in luck, he might be rewarded with a smile.

Each step feels slower than the last. The closer he gets, the weirder he feels. He tries to push through it. Huh? Was the air always this thin? He stumbles, gasping, within metres of the woman. She’s older, he notices, maybe in her 50s. Her face is pale. His head is pounding. His gaze blurs, the woman’s red coat hazing out and melting into the leaves. Is she okay? Is he okay? Why hadn’t he noticed sooner? He isn’t in his body. His head hurts. His head hurts. His head-

His knees hurt. They hit the ground hard. He’s looking at his hands now. They’re in the leaves. He grasps at the leaves, which crunch and flake in his hands. He has to feel something. He feels distant. Breathe. Breathe!

His ears are ringing. He tries to move but his body won’t obey him. He’s on his side now, gasping, leg twitching like a dying animal. His vision fades to black, and an odd laughter floats through to him over the ringing sound. 

“Shurororororo…”

Chapter Text

Zoro doesn’t care that the cook is late. He doesn’t. 

It would be right on brand for Sanji to not come back, he thinks bitterly. Running off has always been a habit of his. Not coming back is new, but maybe that’s Sanji’s new hobby. Fucking them all over and acting like nothing happened when it turns out for the best. Yeah, they got the poneglyph rubbings and accidentally lured Big Mom to Wano where she was defeated, but none of that was Sanji’s doing. It was the Strawhats making the best of the bad situation he’d put them in. 

So yeah, Zoro’s bitter. He won’t admit it, but the marriage part hurts the most. He has been painfully, embarrassingly infatuated with the cook since Arlong Park, but it wasn’t until after their two years apart that Sanji had seemed ready to act on the tension between them. Zoro had decided to be more obvious with his feelings too. They can die at any time. No point wasting these moments pining.  They had become closer and closer and something had been about to happen after their kiss at Punk Hazard and then Sanji had fucked off with the first woman who showed him any interest. 

Of course. Zoro should have known. He feels foolish. Famous skirt chaser Blackleg Sanji was never going to give him what he wanted. Leading him on. Maybe even trying to hurt him. 

Maybe he’s being unfair, he at least knows that they were threatening Zeff, but another part of Zoro is perfectly happy to throw blame on Sanji and see if any of it sticks. 

He doesn’t know what happened at Whole Cake Island or all the details. Nami won’t tell him, she gives him a look and insists he should ask Sanji. 

“Not even those of us who were there know the full story, so just ask him if you really want to know.”

Which would be all well and good if Sanji would fucking talk to him.

On Wano, after it was all over, Sanji had avoided him. Every time Zoro tried to approach, Sanji would find some excuse to leave. Zoro gets the message. Sanji doesn’t want to talk to him. He owes Zoro an explanation, but he doesn’t want to pay up. 

So Zoro leaves Sanji alone once they’re on the Sunny. For now. This can’t go on forever. He will get an explanation. He just has to wait. He’s patient. And if things on the Sunny are awkward until then, so what? Zoro’s happy to let Sanji stew. 

It’s not just about Sanji leaving. Wano has given them even more to talk about. 

“At the end of all this, if I lose my mind… I want you to kill me.”

It makes Zoro feel sick. He would be working out in the crow’s nest and suddenly remember those words, and Enma would shudder happily, and Zoro would have to fight back bile. 

So they’ve got stuff to work through. If Sanji were willing.

When Sanji looks up at Zoro at the island, all tense shoulders and narrowed eyes, and says they’ll talk when he gets back, Zoro believes him. 

And then Sanji does not come back. 

Zoro isn’t alarmed when Usopp returns to the Sunny with the cart but no cook. He barely stirs from his nap when Usopp pulls the cart up the plank, panting dramatically. 

“Oh? Is Sanji not with you?” Robin asks curiously, looking up from her book. She spawns a couple of arms to catch a bag of rice that had been about to fall off the cart. Usopp huffs, sweat shining on his brow.

“He abandoned me! I came out of the bookshop and he was gone! I checked the butchers and the fishmongers but he wasn’t there. I guess he’ll be back before lunchtime. So mean!” He gripes and pushes the cart next to the galley. He leaves it there, since Sanji likes to put everything away himself. 

“Don’t put the fucking flour there! It’ll get damp! I have a system, mosshead!”

He has a system. Whatever that means. Zoro knows it must be for a reason. He trusts Sanji’s judgement, Sanji knows what he’s doing. Not that Zoro would ever admit that to Sanji’s face. Except maybe if they were cuddling, and Sanji were to cast doubt on his own abilities. Zoro would hold his hand, knock their foreheads together, tell Sanji that…

But that’s not going to happen now. Zoro isn’t going to obsess over the could-be moments. 

Zoro dozes on the deck, the voices of his crewmates occasionally reaching him through the fog of sleep. It’s a misconception that Zoro is dead to the world most of the time. His haki is always aware. If there were to be a threat to the crew, he’d be there. But whilst they’re not in any danger, he’s content to let the world play out around him. Moss on an ancient stone, awakened by rain.

Zoro senses something amiss around lunchtime, an unpleasant aura settling over the Sunny. He opens his eyes to see Nami standing at the bow of the ship, looking out across the island. She sighs. The gentle breeze whips her hair over her shoulders.

“Where is he…?”

“He’s still not back?” Usopp joins her, peering out. “That’s weird. He was saying, when we were out, that he needed to be back in time to start lunch. Luffy’s starting to look at the fish in the aquarium like they’re already barbecued.” 

“He probably got distracted by a woman,” Jinbe supposes. He already knows the cook so well. 

“Then, perhaps we should all go and look for him?” Robin closes her book. She picks up a cardigan from the back of her chair. The wind has turned chilly, and unlike Nami she prefers to dress for practicality over style. Brook offers her a hand to stand and she takes it with a smile, despite being perfectly capable of standing by herself and never needing a hand when she has hundreds of her own.

“I’ll come too!” Luffy bangs the door open. He’s practically salivating. “So we can find him and he can make me meat!”

“I’ll stay here,” Zoro closes his eyes again. He has no intention of running around after the cook. Not when Sanji has probably just gone fawning after a woman. Or is avoiding coming back to the ship so he can put off their conversation a bit longer. 

Once the others have set off to find Sanji, Zoro spreads his haki across the island. He can feel the energy of each of his crew, setting off together and then splitting up to search the island. 

He can’t see Sanji. That doesn’t necessarily mean anything. Sanji can hide his presence if he really wants to, going undetected. He’s been especially good at that since Wano, and Zoro wonders if it has anything to do with the raid suit he heard about from Franky and the hardened skin he heard about from Chopper. 

Either Sanji doesn’t want to be found right now, or he left. 

For now, Zoro ignores the building dread in his gut, the instinct that something isn’t right. 

He holds Wado’s hilt a little tighter.

Sanji’s head pounds as he comes back to consciousness. His mouth feels dry and his eyes are sore like he’s been competing in the staring contest world championships. He squints his eyes open. 

It’s bright. He groans lowly and squeezes his eyes shut. It smells bad too. Sharp. Like bad memories. He can’t figure out why until his muddy brain supplies the source of the smell. Antiseptic. Clinical. Cold. Chopper’s infirmary didn’t smell like this. Robin always brings flowers when Sanji is stuck there. In her infinite wisdom she has figured out that he doesn’t like the smell of antiseptic. 

Sanji forces his eyes back open. He’s in a cell. It’s made of cold, clean metal. There’s a toilet and a sink, and he’s lying on a mattress. There aren’t any windows. There are harsh lights on the ceiling and a large mirror on one wall. Sanji sits up and tries very hard not to vomit. His hands are itching for a cigarette. 

His clothes are gone. In their place is a plain white gown. He has to try even harder to not throw up. 

Suddenly, the mirror on the wall is no longer a mirror but a window. On the other side are two unfortunately familiar men. 

Judge Vinsmoke and Caesar Clown. 

Fucking knew I recognised that creepy ass laugh. 

Sanji gets up and walks over. He wishes he had pockets to put his hands in so he could look casual and unbothered. Not that he thinks these two would buy it. 

“What the fuck?” Sanji grits his teeth. Judge’s face is impassive, but Caesar looks thrilled, purple mouth twisted upwards. Sanji addresses Judge instead. “You gave your word that you’d leave me the fuck alone! We mutually agreed I’m not your son and you wouldn’t bother me!”

Caesar looks put out at being ignored. Judge raises an eyebrow. It makes something in Sanji’s psyche twitch. The same disappointed look as always.

“You should know by now that my word means nothing. Words are simply words. I am not an honest man. I’m a man who’ll do anything to win. Those are the kinds of men that succeed.” 

Sanji grits his teeth. 

Sanji rears his leg back and kicks the window, then yelps when a shock of pain lances up his foot through his leg. Electrified, then. He stumbles back, but stays on his feet. He won’t let these men see him fall. He hears an ominous beeping and glances down. To his horror, familiar golden bangles are strapped around his wrists. Judge goes on talking like he’s discussing the weather as Sanji's dread grows like a widening chasm. 

“They seemed quite effective before. We considered the neck, but you would realise we need you alive and try to escape. We don’t need you to have all your limbs, however. If you value them, you’ll do as I say.”

“As we say,” Caesar adds. He leans in, leering. “And don’t forget the powers I wield. I can suck all of the oxygen out of an area and make you faint before you can even take a single step outside. Alongside all kinds of wonderful deadly poisons!”

That must have been what happened on the island. The woman in red, the thin air. Going by the familiar gentle bobbing, they’re on a ship right now. 

“Now that you don’t have my heart, I’m free to pay you back twice over for what you did to me…” Caesar is seething, the gas around him growing. “The humiliation… the pain… abandoning me to Big Mom, the terrible things you made me do! Saving all those Minks… disgusting! Oh, you will pay!” 

Judge glances at him. 

“Don’t forget, we have a specific goal in mind for him. Don’t get carried away. This is in the name of science.”

Caesar scoffs.

“That doesn’t mean I can’t have a little fun, Judge. Where’s your sense of adventure? A little revenge won’t hurt. Well… won’t hurt the experiments. I can’t say it won’t hurt him. ”

Judge begins to walk away as if he finds this conversation boring. A specific goal in mind? A black hole opens up in Sanji’s stomach. They took him back for a reason. To ‘fix’ him? Or something else? 

Caesar disappears for a moment, and then the door opens. There are a dozen or so guards behind him, Germa clones, but Sanji pays them no mind. Canon fodder, literally. Before Caesar can react, Sanji’s foot hits him square in the face. The clones rush in but they’re no match for Sanji, who knocks them down two at a time with some precise kicks. 

And then his skin is burning. 

He breathes in and his nose, his throat, his lungs are burning, he chokes, gasps, tries to yell. His eyes are burning, blurring, he feels Caesar grab him by the throat. Caesar leans in, eyes wide and crazed, smirk wide. 

“I hold your heart now, Vinsmoke Sanji. Thank you for giving me a reason to squeeze it. ”

Sanji is going to explode, he’s going to die, every inch of him is on fire in ways he could never have imagined. Even his skin, hardened as it is by the new exoskeleton, hurts. Like it’s been stretched, rubber over a water balloon, and the water is boiling. 

Two more clones appear and drag him, still writhing, away from the gas Caesar made and towards some double doors at the end of the corridor. The skin of the clones goes red, but they don’t react. Sanji gasps for breath once the air is clear, his body shaking. The double doors are opened and he is pushed inside.

It’s not like how he remembered it as a child. As a child, the equipment seemed so big, everything large and metal and scary. And so, so cold. Now, though, he’s been sharing a ship with a big metal guy for a long time, and Franky is anything but cold. So it’s not the metal that scares him. Everything looks smaller, too, now that he’s an adult. No, everything is scary now because he knows exactly what all of this equipment can do. Understanding what was being done to him would only make it worse. Ignorance is bliss. 

Sanji struggles as the clones pin him to the surgical table in the centre of the room. He kicks one away, leg on fire, unwilling to do anything quietly.

“Fuck off!” He yells as Caesar approaches. He tries to yell again but the oxygen is gone, suddenly, and he tries to gasp like a fish. The two clones are on the floor. Caesar puts a medical mask over Sanji’s nose and mouth and the air rushes back, making him dizzy as he gasps. His muscles refuse to listen to him as he tries to get up, twitching uselessly instead. He can’t go far anyway - the mask is connected to a machine and there’s still no oxygen in the rest of the room. 

“How long will it take you to learn, I wonder? No matter! I enjoy watching you squirm. Such a worthless little thing. I can’t wait to see how you tick. Shurorororo! ”

He presses a button, and straps spring to life on the table, strapping Sanji in. There are straps around his ankles, arms and neck. He feels helpless. Frustrated. He helped take down an Emperor of the Sea, defeated one of his Disasters, he’s gotten so strong, and yet here he is. Back to the start. Like none of it mattered. Like he’s still that scared kid. Like Caesar has peeled his exterior away, revealing that deep inside, he’s still just weak. 

Deep breaths. Deep breaths. He doesn’t know how Zoro does this meditation shit. Isn’t there always too much to think about? Or does Zoro really have so few thoughts that he can simply turn all that off?

Caesar comes at him with a needle, and looks delighted when it hits his hardened skin and shatters. 

“So our intel was true! Your genes have awakened. Just as we had hoped.”

He turns away and brings out another needle, this one bright pink. It slides easily into the crook of Sanji’s elbow, and he has to look away.

“What… what do you want with me?” Sanji grinds out, fighting for each word. The sudden rush of oxygen from the mask has made him dizzy. He manages not to flinch when another blood sample is taken, and then another, and another. It’s just blood. He can make more. 

“Silent whilst I’m working!” Caesar spits. He sticks the next needle in particularly hard. Sanji decides he’s not going to get any answers anyway, and resigns himself to staring at the off-white ceiling. 

Caesar takes his fill of blood, enough to make Sanji woozy, and moves on to injections. Various drugs are lined up in a row. Some are bright colours, toxic purple and neon blue. Others are innocently clear, hiding their intentions. Caesar hums cheerfully like a child drawing a picture as he picks the drugs up one by one and injects them. 

Some feel cold in Sanji’s veins. Others burn immediately, making Sanji strain against the restraints and bite his lip to keep from yelling. He can’t stop the panic. What if this is it? Is he going to lose his emotions, the one fear that has been keeping him up at night since Wano? He doesn’t want to be like his brothers. If the Straw Hats find him like that, what then? 

His brain goes fuzzy. Maybe it’s the drugs. Maybe it’s the cloying fear. Maybe it doesn’t matter.

A couple of other scientists crowd around to check his reaction to whatever they’ve given him. They take his blood pressure, check his eyes, ask him questions, and take yet more blood samples. There’s too many, it’s too much, there’s needles and it’s cold and he’s that scared little boy again wondering why he’s a failure-

“Get the fuck away from me!” His head is spinning, his stomach is revolting, he’s straining against the table- “Get off! Get off!”

Caesar is looking positively gleeful at Sanji’s fear. He picks up another vial. 

“I’ll put him out for now so we can get better readings. Goodnight, Blackleg!”

The world goes black.

When Sanji wakes again, he’s still on the table. The straps are gone. His mouth feels dry, and there’s a bone-deep ache that he can feel over his whole body. Caesar and a couple of clones grab him.

Sanji is dragged up, head spinning, and forced to his feet. He barely stays standing, and at first he thinks the figure at the door must be a hallucination. But there’s no mistaking that shade of toxic pink. 

“R…Reiju?”

Reiju looks at him, face impassive. The concern shows in her eyes - he only sees it because he’s looking for it. Otherwise her face is a perfect blank slate. 

“Stay there,” Caesar snaps at her. “I’ll be with you shortly. Can’t let this pathetic creature out of my sight.” 

His grip tightens on Sanji’s arm and Sanji deliberately, if weaker than usual, stamps on Caesar’s foot. Caesar shrieks and hops around for a few moments, swearing and complaining and being an overdramatic diva. The resulting smirk is wiped off Sanji’s face when Caesar slaps him, sending him to the floor. Sanji and the floor are becoming the best of friends. He manages to raise his head, propped up on his elbow. The crooks of his elbows sting and he spits out a wad of blood. He glowers at Caesar. 

“You’re making a huge mistake. My crew will come for me. My captain defeated Kaido. He’ll crush you.”

Instead of looking intimidated, Caesar somehow looks delighted. He hauls Sanji up and leers down at him, face-to-face. This close, Caesar smells like ozone and sulphur.

“Oh, we’re counting on it.”

Dread grows in Sanji’s gut once more. What does that mean? 

Without elaborating further, Caesar drags him past Reiju and back to his cell, throwing him in and slamming the door behind him. 

Sanji lies on his mattress and takes some deep breaths. 

The crew will find him, he knows. They would burn the world to ashes to get him back. But Caesar’s words are playing on his mind. They want his crew to find him? What does that mean?

His head hurts. His whole body is throbbing, like his skin is too tight, like his flesh is swelling and his rigid exoskeleton won’t stretch to accommodate. His cheek is tender. Thanks to his skin, he probably did more damage to Caesar’s hand than Caesar did to his cheek. 

Despite everything he learned from Whole Cake Island, he can’t help wishing for his crew to stay away. Even with his personal growth (Ivankov would be proud) being able to ask for help from Robin on Wano, he doesn’t want his crew in danger because of his fucked up family. Not again. Whatever reason Judge and Caesar have for wanting them to come, it can’t be good. He should try to escape by himself instead. He knows even Zoro will probably be itching to get Sanji back. Even if only for the sake of the crew.

Sanji closes his eyes. 

Hey, Mosshead. Stay away.

Chapter Text

They can’t find any trace of Sanji. 

They’ve searched in town, all the markets and shops, even the bars in case he’d been wooed by a pretty woman. But their wayward cook isn’t anywhere they've searched. Nami insists that Zoro stay behind for his own good, because he’d ‘get lost’. It isn’t his fault that all of the paths would get switched around behind his back. The people in the towns they visit really need to have better town planning. 

He has to watch, feeling useless, as one by one his crewmates return to the ship, cookless. It’s now well after dinner, the sun has set, and Luffy’s stomach is rumbling loudly.

“Loud enough to wake the dead! Of course, I’m already awake!” Brook cackles. But his heart isn’t in it (not that he has a heart). They’re all a bit off kilter from this unexpected development. Robin has gone to the galley with Jinbe to see what they can cook up for dinner. The last of the crew members to return, Usopp, walks up onto the deck and looks at the others, gathered around uncertainly. Zoro is sitting against the mast, pretending he isn’t paying attention. 

“So… Sanji’s strong, right? He wouldn’t just get taken…” Usopp says, a hint of fear in his voice. If there’s someone here who could take one of their strongest members from under their noses, what chance do the weakest among them stand?

“But he wouldn’t leave without an explanation!” Nami insists. Zoro scoffs. 

“Wouldn’t he?” He mutters. Nami glares at him.

“Now isn’t the time for jabs like that! He wouldn’t! Even with what happened before… he left a note, he intended to come back.”

Zoro rolls his eyes. Would Sanji have left a note if Nami, Brook and Chopper hadn’t been there at the time? Or would he have vanished, like he has now?

He’s not worried. Not at all. Cool as a cucumber, that’s Roronoa Zoro.

Except.

“Dumb cucumber head! Watch where you’re waving those damn swords!”

“Ehh? You’re one to talk, Curly, noodle dancing all over the place!”

Except yeah. He’s worried. There hadn’t been any indication that anything was wrong before Sanji left with Usopp.

“I tried with my haki,” Usopp sighs. “Nothing. I went all over the island too, even though I have unknown-island-disease! I braved through all the symptoms and nothing! I couldn’t sense Sanji at all.”

“I tried too,” Luffy mumbles from where he’s lying, dramatically starving to death because dinner is three hours late. He stares morosely up at the twinkling stars. “I can’t find him. Sanjiiiiii!”

Zoro closes his eyes. He reaches outwards with his observation haki again. His crew members, each distinct. The people of the island, maybe a thousand or so people, some eating a late dinner, working, sleeping, drinking at the bar, sick in bed. He has always been able to find Sanji. Sanji’s haki is fierce, distinct. It burns as brightly as Sanji himself. There’s only so long Sanji can keep himself hidden from Zoro.

There’s nothing. Sanji is no longer on the island. But Zoro’s haki hadn’t flared to say Sanji was in danger. Whatever happened to the cook must have been so fast that he hadn’t seen the danger coming. So fast that Zoro’s haki sensed nothing amiss. Or, Zoro’s perfectionist brain tells him, Zoro should have been faster. He needs to train his observation haki more. If he’d just been better…

“How do we find out who took him?” Chopper asks tearfully. Franky hums. 

“We’ll have to ask around, lil’ bro. I’m sure someone must have seen him, or knows something. Like Usopp said, Sanji’s strong, so he’ll be super okay!”

The door to the galley opens and Robin emerges with Jinbe, both carrying copious amounts of food. Luffy springs to his feet. 

“We can start asking around after we’ve eaten. I think our dear cook would prefer we were well nourished for the search, hm?” Robin says. They can’t argue with that logic. Sanji would insist on never skipping a meal. 

“Then I’ll take mine to go,” Nami insists. She fetches one of the bento boxes from the galley and starts to fill it, slapping away Luffy’s wandering rubber hands when they get too close. After a moment of hesitation, Zoro gets up and does the same. 

“Zoro, I told you, you’ll get lost-”

“I’m not staying on this ship.”

The crew goes quiet, watching. Zoro packs up his bento with an air of finality. 

“I’m going to look for anyone who saw the cook. If you can’t find me, get Usopp or Luffy to use their haki,” and with that, Zoro marches down the plank and heads towards the town. 

It’s been four days. The Strawhats haven’t found anything. 

They search every day, and even during the night, asking people if they’ve seen Sanji. No dice. The people of this autumn island are tight lipped. 

It’s Zoro who finally has the breakthrough. 

He’s wandering around near some of the shops, looking for the bar. For some reason, the residents here like to move the bar around, or something, because he can never find it again when he leaves.

“Did you hear about Mrs Bees? Goldie said she was found collapsed near the Western shore!”

There are two women sitting under an apple tree, its old gnarled branches reaching out over the street to offer shade from the setting sun. Its roots have cracked the cobbles of the pathway, and the way they twist makes the perfect enclaves to provide a seat for the women. Both are holding books, they even have them open, but the reading comes second to a good gossip.

“No way!” The other woman leans in, her greying auburn hair falling over her shoulder. “I told Monarch that Mrs Bees drank too much, now look at her! See what happens when people don’t listen to me?”

Zoro couldn’t be less interested, but something is telling him to listen in. A woman in distress could be relevant when it came to the cook. 

“You always say that, Penny, but Rudyard reckons she was attacked…”

A snort.

“Attacked by what, a bottle of tequila? Amber, she’s an alcoholic!”

“Mr Bees says she’s been sober for a month. You know he’s never told a lie in his life. Besides, Ognen says he saw a visitor go in the same direction she was found. Thinks it was one of them pirates. Blond guy, fancy suit. Ognen told me not to tell anyone though, so don’t go spreading it around, Pen.”

Penny nods seriously with the look of a woman who is definitely about to tell everyone she knows. 

“I won’t tell a soul, promise.”

Zoro approaches out of the shadows. Penny and Amber manage not to scream but it’s a close thing, both their faces going white as pearls. 

“Ognen. Where can I find him?” Zoro asks. Penny manages a glare. Zoro is almost impressed. He knows he’s scary. He’s not sorry. 

“We’re not telling an outsider like you!” She warbles, her voice pitching up in fear. 

“I’m not gonna hurt him. One of our crew is missing, Ognen might have seen him.”

But the women have closed their books, put them away, and now they’re standing. Zoro admires that the people of the island look out for each other. Such a nice sentiment, at such a bad time (for Zoro, anyway).

The women leave in a hurry. Zoro doesn’t stop them. It sounds like they don’t know (or wouldn’t tell) anything more.

He returns to the Sunny. Or tries to. The town moves around again to spite him, and he ends up on a different side of the island - but not where the Sunny is. Luckily Robin must have gotten turned around too, because she joins him on the cobbled street. 

“My, lost again?” Her eyes sparkle with mirth. Zoro grunts. 

“No. This place is a maze.”

“It’s not a big island,” she hides her smile behind her hand. “Did you find anything of note?”

“I did. Couple’a gossipy women let something slip,” Zoro replies. Robin’s expression becomes more serious. She takes his arm and changes direction. 

“Then we had better report to the others. Let’s get to the Sunny.”

“That’s where I was going,” Zoro mutters. Robin pats his shoulder placatingly. 

“Not to worry, we’ll go there together. But you are worried about our cook, hm?”

Zoro scowls.

“As if I’d be worried about that stupid love cook,” he says. It sounds like a lie even to his own ears. Robin’s hand feels motherly as she squeezes his shoulder. 

“I know you’re hurting,” she says softly, her heels clicking on the cobbles. “But try to see past it. When I left on Water 7, Sanji didn’t give up on me, not for a second. Neither did the rest of you. Even without the full story. Is it not only fair to extend the same to our cook?”

“It’s different,” Zoro says automatically. He doesn’t want to talk about this, but Robin has roped him in. To his surprise, she nods.

“Because of the wedding?” She asks, a light smile on her face. Zoro feels a blush tinge his ears. Is it that obvious, him and Sanji?

“We were finally…” Zoro searches for the right words. “...Getting somewhere. He didn’t even hesitate to leave. I’m trying to hold off judgement ‘til I know the full story, but him refusing to talk to me feels like an admission of guilt.”

Robin nods in understanding.

“Your frustration is understandable. I know you’re trying not to let your frustration cloud your feelings on this new situation, but don’t shut down everything. It’s okay to be worried about him.” 

“...Yeah, I get it,” Zoro sighs. He is worried. The cook is strong, Zoro’s equal, but none of them are invincible. He hopes Sanji is okay. They’re going to find him. But the thought of Sanji hurting somewhere Zoro can’t reach him makes his heart ache.

Robin smiles.

“Alright. You know you can talk to any of us if you need to.”

“I know. Thanks.”

Zoro means it. Some of them are better to talk to than others (Franky would just cry, and Luffy probably wouldn’t get it) but they’d all at least listen. Not that he’s into the whole sharing his feelings through a big speech thing. He prefers to be direct.

Back at the Sunny, once everyone is there, they sit around the galley table and Zoro tells them what he heard.

“That’s worrying,” Nami bites her lip. “You know what Sanji’s like with women. Could it have been a trap?”

“That’s super likely,” Franky agrees. He brings his smaller hand out of his bigger hand and uses it to quickly fix some scuff marks on the galley table. Can’t have their cook come back to anything less than perfection in his kitchen. “So we’ve gotta find this Mrs Bees and Ognen, see what they know.”

“I’ll check out the Western shoreline!” Chopper pipes up. “I might smell something useful!” 

He hops down from his seat. Chopper hasn’t been quiet in his worry for Sanji, fretting constantly. Usopp rises. 

“I’ll go too, I might see something.”

Jinbe gets to his feet.

“I’ll swim the waters around there, see if there are any clues.”

“That would be a big help. I’ll snoop around. I’m sure I can find our witnesses and… convince them to tell me what they know,” Robin’s smile has an edge to it. Like all of them, she does not take lightly to someone hurting their much loved cook. And god help anyone who gets in her way as she does all she can to retrieve him. 

Robin joins Chopper, Usopp and Jinbe out on the island again. Luffy is a ball of unspent energy, constantly spreading his haki around just in case he missed anything. Zoro knows how he feels. Luffy’s strengths are in his decision making, his determination and drive, his fighting prowess, his ability to make allies out of anyone. Right now those strengths are less useful than the skills of the rest of the crew. 

There isn’t much for Zoro and Luffy to do. The two strongest crewmates, useless. Zoro hasn’t felt this powerless since reading about Ace’s death in the newspaper. Paralysed in the face of a problem he can’t just cut with swords. Sidelined like a kid at a sports game with a broken leg.

“Oy, Luffy!” Zoro calls up to where Luffy has climbed the rigging. “Wanna spar?”

It’s the only thing he can think of. They can both get stronger and spend some of this energy. Luffy grins and climbs down. There’s no telling what Luffy is thinking right now, but he must be worried, too. Failing to protect the crew is a fear Zoro and Luffy share. 

As Luffy and Zoro begin to spar, and Luffy’s fist hits him square in the face, Zoro can’t help thinking of Sanji. 

He hopes Sanji is still fighting, wherever he is.

Sanji already feels like he’s going insane.

It’s been a week. He knows this because of the meal schedule, and the lights of the room automatically turn off and on. For all he knows these things could be wildly inaccurate, but he’s choosing to believe (for his own sanity) that the days are going by on this schedule.

Caesar is not a gentle man. In fact he wants to inflict as much pain as he can, gleefully stabbing needles full of drugs far deeper into the muscle than he needs to, like Sanji is his favourite pincushion. The Germa scientists are more gentle. Not because they care - they still see Sanji as nothing more than a lab rat, just like his childhood - but they don’t want to damage the merchandise. His worth is in the results they get. Skewing those results by spiking his heart rate through pain isn’t logical. Caesar, meanwhile, is just as much out for revenge as he is for results.

He uses his gas on Sanji any chance he gets. He injects drugs that he knows will burn in Sanji’s veins, make him hallucinate and panic. He’s ruthless when testing the limits of Sanji’s healing abilities. 

Almost as bad as the experiments themselves, Sanji thinks, is having nothing to show for it.

Maybe it’s a stupid thing to think. He should be grateful for his advanced healing powers. But each night he goes to sleep with bruises, huge ones in the crooks of his elbows and across his shoulders, small ones across his face from Caesar losing his temper. He has chemical burns on his arms from testing, and some from Caesar’s gas. His legs ache from running on a treadmill like a hamster in a wheel - which makes him nostalgic for Kamabakka. He has cuts from where they test his healing or want to see his muscles, the wounds held together by surgical glue. He lies on his mattress and aches and aches, thinking of the Sunny. 

And each morning he wakes up mostly healed. 

The bruises yellow rapidly, fading to nothing within 24 hours. His legs barely hurt. The cuts have smoothed out into scars. By the following day they will be gone. 

It’s driving Sanji mad. He keeps looking in the mirror, staring at himself. He looks fine. Other than some exhaustion and losing some weight, and whatever injuries are the most fresh, it’s like nothing happened at all. 

Maybe he’s hallucinating, and nothing has happened? Did Caesar really break his leg if it’s not broken the next day, if there’s nothing but a little twinge of pain? He feels like a Matryoshka doll. Empty on the inside and perfect on the outside, painted and pretty. 

On day five they open him up. 

They at least put him under first, but when he wakes up in his cell with a cut going down the length of his body, with his skin held together by stitches, he rushes to the toilet and throws up.

He feels violated. Caesar has had his hands god knows where inside him, enthusiastically inspecting his kidneys, exploring his lungs for cigarette tar, squeezing his heart like Sanji had done to him on Zou. It terrifies Sanji, how much power Caesar has. What he could do. Sanji almost wishes he’d been awake, just so he could know. 

He knows that by tomorrow there will be little left to show for what he’s been through, to show that Caesar was rifling around in his insides. Like it never happened at all. Maybe that’s why he ends up scratching at the incision in his sleep that night, waking up to a bloody mattress and bloody fingernails. The incision heals weird, and two days later his chest is pristine except for some odd pinkish-white bumps occasionally dotting the old incision line. Sanji, feeling quite insane, almost treasures them. 

He sees Reiju a few more times, too. It seems like they might be testing on her as well, but since they only pass in the corridors he isn’t able to do more than look at her before Caesar pushes him along.  

On day eight, Sanji has another surgery. 

He is pulled, stumbling, to the lab. He may heal quickly, but they haven’t been feeding him very much. He has started to hoard what he can, stashing stale biscuits and cheese in a slit in his mattress. 

Caesar grabs Sanji’s chin once they’re in the lab, and tilts his head up. He studies Sanji’s face and scoffs. 

“There’s still far too much fire in your eyes, Blackleg,” he whines like a child denied a birthday cake. “I don’t like it.”

“So sorry,” Sanji spits back. “Did you want me to grovel a bit for you? Maybe burst into tears every time I see you? Piss myself a little? Would that make you feel like a big man again, huh, bastard?”

He might be going a bit insane, but he’s not going to entirely break down. Not in front of Caesar. He won’t give this bastard the satisfaction. 

Caesar sneers and straps him to the table again. There are a lot of other scientists in the room today. 

“I’ll wipe that smug look off your face, Blackleg.”

“Eat shit and die, ugly clown fucker.”

Caesar’s furious face is the last thing Sanji sees before he’s choking on gas again and his vision goes black.

He wakes up back on his mattress. His head is pounding, his vision is blurred, he’s gasping for breath like he’s underwater. He sits up, head spinning. What happened? What did they do? He reaches up to pull his hair in that familiar bad habit, only- only-

His hair is gone. 

He scrambles up, stumbling, falling, standing, stumbling again as he hurries to the mirror. He stops and stares at himself, panting.

Half his hair is gone - the whole front half, and then the left hand side too. There are large stitches holding the shaved skin together. They’ve been rooting around inside his brain. 

He looks awful. The right back half of his hair is still there, which is worse than it all being gone. He feels exposed. He always has half his face covered by his hair. It helps when he doesn’t want people to know his feelings. He wears his heart on his sleeve and he’s also incredibly private, a terrible combination. Now, though, his whole face - identical eyebrows included - is on display. He feels so naked. 

And yet. And yet. A small part of him is happy. Because it’s proof of what he’s going through. It’s proof it’s not all in his head. 

Ivankov would probably be horrified, he thinks. Inazuma would help, would sit him down and even things out and style it as it grew back. He feels his heart ache unexpectedly for them. For Zeff’s spicy seafood pasta. For his crew’s laughter. He feels tears in his eyes. 

He wishes they were here. Any of them. Even Ivankov. Ivankov and their island had forced Sanji to confront his sexuality, pushed him off the cliff he was never going to jump from. He hadn’t even realised his feelings were natural and normal.

“What?!” Sanji splutters, looking up from his meal at Ivankov. “Why are you asking if I have a crush on Zoro? No way in hell! Ew! I’m a man for the ladies!”

Ivankov smirks a secret smirk. 

“And yet you talk about him much more than you talk about any of the rest of your crew.”

“B-Because he’s the most annoying!”

“Is he?” Ivankov flutters their eyelashes. “Or does he just annoy you the most because he makes you feel things you’d rather not feel, hm?”

“I don’t… no way. I could never choose him over a beautiful lady!”

Ivankov laughs, loud and unapologetic. 

“Sanji-boy, you’re a gold star bisexual. You’ve never made a choice in your life.”

And then Sanji had spluttered and cursed and insisted that he was quite good at making choices, really, just not when it came to Zoro. And that had been the moment, ironically, that he’d chosen. He would stop being a coward and try to see if he and Zoro had something. 

And now he’s here, looking into the mirror and missing everyone he loves and trying not to cry. 

He doesn’t succeed.

Chapter Text

Judge hasn’t come to see Sanji in the ten days he’s been here. Sanji doesn’t know if he should be happy about that or not. On the one hand, he’d rather never see Judge’s disgusting mug again. On the other hand, he wants an explanation. 

Finally, on day twelve, Judge appears when the mirror changes. Sanji gets to his feet from the mattress, hiding his fatigue. He keeps his back straight, his gaze firm. 

“Finally crawled out from whatever shithole you’ve been hibernating in?” Sanji sneers. Judge raises an eyebrow and looks him over.

“I haven’t been idle. I’ve been overseeing the studies and the results, adjusting as necessary.”

“Adjusting what? Studying what? Fucking tell me Something! ” Sanji snaps back. Judge seems to consider this for a while. He's never been one to turn down a chance to gloat.

Perhaps he decides it won’t hurt to do an evil bad guy monologue after all, because he starts to talk. 

“Seeing what you’re capable of on Whole Cake Island was eye opening. You see, for possibly the first time in my life, I realised I was wrong about something. Emotions don’t always make a fighter weaker. If he does not fear that he will get hurt or that he may die, why should he dodge out of the way? If he doesn’t feel passionately about his cause, will he go above and beyond for it?” 

Judge pauses here and looks down at Sanji much like one would look down upon a spider who had made an impressive web. Fascinated, but ultimately knowing he was above the vermin who had so impressed him. 

“Much as I loathe to admit it, you’re stronger than your siblings. I realised this during the escape from Whole Cake Island. You can do what they can, but without technology. You brought down Queen, my old coworker. You can set yourself on fire through sheer force of will, through passion. And Reiju - I realised when your cuffs did not explode, that she had deceived me. She did so out of love. She was able to figure out how to defy my orders, her own programming, because of her emotions. Emotions made her smarter. ”

Judge looks thoughtful. Like he’s the budding scientist he used to be, coming up with theories and discussing them with Vegapunk and Caesar and the others. 

“So I began to think, ‘love’ could make a soldier ever more loyal. If a soldier both loved Germa and was compelled to follow orders, would that not be the perfect soldier? After all, that’s all you are to the Strawhats. Following their orders out of love. It disgusts me, how fiercely you love, knowing you will never get the same in return. It’s foolish. You love your crew with passion that defies science, and yet you are utterly undeserving of being loved back. Like a pathetic dog, begging for scraps of love when your only job is to be strong and keep them fed. Tell me, Sanji, do you wag your tail when they say ‘good job’?”

Sanji struggles to maintain eye contact. It hurts because he knows it’s true, at least in part. He does preen when he is thanked, when he is praised, when he is wanted. It happens at mealtimes, mostly, when the crew gathers around and thanks him. At least most of them do. The ones with manners. His lovely ladies. Chopper and Usopp. Jinbe. Franky and Brook remember less often, but he gets thanked sometimes. Luffy is often too busy eating, but his appreciation shines through. 

He gets nothing from Zoro. Even when they were on good terms. It makes Sanji want to push harder, make the food better, searching (without realising - and, god, it’s Judge of all people who has pointed it out) for a hint that Zoro wants him. 

The other things he does go largely unnoticed and unappreciated, but he’s okay with that. Really, he is. Some of the crew seem to think that the laundry does itself. That the ship cleans herself. Sometimes one of the others seem to realise they haven’t done any chores for a while, so they’ll have a day where they scrub the deck or dust the aquarium or polish the figurehead. Then they’ll pat themselves on the back (forgetting that cleaning needs to happen every day with so many people on board) and clean nothing else for weeks. 

In all fairness, the others do have areas they keep clean. Nami’s map room, Chopper’s infirmary, the library books, the workshops, they’re all cleaned by the people who are in them most. Mostly. If Sanji occasionally sneaks in to wipe things down, well, nobody has asked him to. But he owes this crew so much. Even more since his actions on Whole Cake Island. He has to earn his place, he has to deserve it. He knows it’s his problem. He can’t blame the crew for his own fucked up head.

Sometimes it’s like being back on the Baratie, when they’d scared off all the waiters and chore boys, and Sanji had cleaned well into the night because everyone else was asleep and Zeff’s leg (or lack thereof) had been hurting lately and Sanji owed him so much and if only Sanji could take on a bit more of his burdens, a bit more, a bit more, then Sanji might eventually be worthy of having been saved by the old man. 

“For such strong emotions to come from such an unlovable creature, it’s tragic. You may accuse me of using my children as weapons, but everyone is out to get something, Sanji. Your crew hides behind some notion of family and friendship. I am simply doing the same without hiding.”

“You’re nothing like them!” Sanji spits, incensed by the notion. 

He thinks of his friends. Thinks about Chopper’s bubbling laugh on a snowy day, rolling around and badly dodging snowballs, his thick fur sparkling with little snowdrops. The way his face would light up when seeing Sanji bringing out a hot chocolate for him. He thinks about Jinbe’s loud laughter, his wise words, the way he takes up space unapologetically - large, but deservedly so, to hold such an impressive soul. 

He thinks about Brook, the skull jokes that definitely aren’t funny but he’ll laugh to himself anyway because that’s how Brook copes. Brook is old, and has seen so much loss, and Sanji so admires his resilience. They have spent many an evening or early morning together in the galley, soothing music and green tea. He thinks of Franky, a showman and a hardboiled guy, with a strong moral compass despite his brash demeanor. He’s a scientist, but he’s never experimented on anyone but himself, which puts him leagues above the other scientists Sanji knows. 

He thinks of Usopp, the coward who Sanji so admires. Sanji is a coward, sometimes, but he hides it. Usopp wears his cowardice as a badge of honour. It is so much braver to admit you are scared and do something anyway. Bravery comes easy to some people. Not to Usopp, but he has their backs anyway. I’ll do what you can’t do, and you do what I can’t do. He thinks of Robin, the way her gentle smiles became so genuine after Enies Lobby, her determination to protect her crew, her calm acceptance, her motherly - and discerning - gaze. Her sharp intelligence and ruthless protection. Her belief in their crew. 

He thinks about Nami, her unparalleled skills in navigation, the way she smiles when she wants something from him or from anyone. The way her gaze softens when it needs to, the way she worries about them even if she pretends not to, the way her cunning nature means they’re never wanting for anything because she controls their finances down to the last Berry. Her unwavering belief in Luffy, knowing that if Luffy says he’ll do something, he’ll do it.

He thinks about Luffy. One of the strongest men in the world but still barely a man, with no qualms about acting like a child. Selfish, free, hungry for more. More freedom, more food, more friends. Sanji can hear them, when he thinks about it. The drums that woke him up on Wano. They were there when he needed them, Luffy’s drums that make Sanji’s heart beat in tandem to the tune of freedom. 

He thinks about Zoro. The way Zoro can do anything he puts his mind to. His constant strive to do better, be more, be the best. His strength is admirable, his loyalty unmatched. He would go to the ends of the world for Luffy and the crew - and he will , someday, as they all lift Luffy up to become the Pirate King. And Zoro’s soft side that he keeps well hidden, usually coming out only for Chopper. He proud little smiles when Chopper succeeds, his goofy laughs that have been mostly absent since their time apart but still come out on occasion. Zoro, riling Sanji up into a sparring match that makes Sanji’s blood sing. Zoro, approaching Sanji with a steadfast concern after Punk Hazard. Zoro, promising to kill Sanji without asking questions, because it seemed important to Sanji at the time. Zoro, Zoro, Zoro.

His crew is his family. They love him. They make him feel like he’s worth something. They’re coming for him. He knows this. They show him they love him in a hundred little ways. From the way Robin smiles at him, to the way the boys compete to get the biggest fish for him, to the way Luffy took hit after hit and then declared that Sanji was essential for him to become the King of the Pirates. 

Why does the child’s voice in the back of his head say otherwise? Why do these little things (and big things) of love still surprise him every time?

“Anyway,” Judge goes on dismissively, as if Sanji hadn’t said anything. “If all our soldiers were more like Reiju, we may be more successful. Except for when she was able to deceive me. We’re working on her programming. And yours. Your brain is fascinating. So many connections that aren’t there in your brothers. Soon enough, you will become the blueprint for the next generation of Germa clones.”

Sanji feels sick. Judge has been inside his brain. His brothers have physical changes in their brains, proof in plain sight of the terrible injustice done to them before they were even born. And Judge wants to create clones like Sanji. 

It’s almost laughable, after two decades being the undisputed failure. Now he’s suddenly the best of them all? The wanted one?

“We have an excellent plan for when Strawhat gets here. Germa will rise again.”

“You’re delusional!” Sanji gets as close as he can to the window without touching it, remembering the electric shock on day one. He glares at Judge with all the hatred he can muster. “The world government revoked your royal status. You tried to ally with a fucking emperor, they won’t forget that.”

Judge smirks. A chill goes down Sanji’s spine, because that smirk is confident. He knows something Sanji doesn’t.

“They will if I can get back on their good side. And I’ll use you for that.”

Sanji glares. He keeps eye contact with Judge. He’s done cowering to this bastard - that’s in the past.

“Whatever your shitty plans are, leave me out of it!” 

Judge laughs and turns, reaching to whatever button or lever turns the window back into a mirror. Sanji is suddenly confronted with his own face again.

“Oh, Sanji,” Judge’s voice is patronising, like he’s trying to explain a very difficult concept to a small child. Sanji stares into his own eyes. “You won’t have a choice.”

The next time the mirror changes to a window, it’s not Judge, or Caesar. It’s Reiju. 

He had finished the latest round of experiments an hour earlier. They’re more and more interested in his brain and in injecting different drugs and seeing what effect it has on his brainwaves. Sanji always has a headache now. Sometimes it’s sharp and spiky, so painful he thinks his head might be about to explode. He curls up on the mattress at those times and bites his lip to keep from crying. Other times it’s a low, thumping pain, constant and annoying. He feels it behind his eyes and it makes him nauseous as he tries to choke down his meager meals.

Sanji doesn’t have anything to keep him occupied except his own thoughts. He paces the cell often, an animal in a too-small cage, looking for a way out. There aren’t any windows, the door is locked, the mirror-window is electrified. He looks at himself in the mirror often because it’s the only thing to look at. He’s sick of his own reflection. 

He thinks about the crew often. Especially Zoro. If Sanji doesn’t make it out of here, then they’ll have left off their relationship on a tragically bitter note. 

So Sanji is bored. A drive-you-to-insanity kind of bored. He almost welcomes the experiments sometimes, just to get out of the same four walls. So when the mirror changes to a window, he jumps up from the mattress to look - despite the ice pick of pain that lances through his head at the sudden movement. 

“Reiju?” He’s surprised to see her. This is her first time visiting, and he’d assumed she had been ordered not to. 

“Hello, Sanji.”

There’s an air of sadness to her. Like a fog, or a poison emanating from her skin. Sanji wonders if Judge can see it too or if Sanji just knows her better, despite not having any contact with her for over a decade. 

“Father told me he explained why you’re here,” she goes on. “I had hoped our last goodbye would be our final goodbye.”

“He didn’t explain shit,” Sanji grumbles. He knows the basics now, but what’s Judge’s plan for the Strawhats? If he knew, he could at least try to fend against it. “It’s not like I had a choice in this, Reiju. You know that.”

“In a way you did,” she comments. “...If you had let the Vinsmokes die as I told you to, this wouldn’t have happened.” 

Sanji scoffs.

“Cut the crap. I’m better than that. I’m not a bloodthirsty monster.”

A little voice whispers at the back of his mind, the same voice he heard in Wano. Aren’t you? Are you not like them, even a little?

“I don’t think it’s monstrous to get rid of a group of warmongers. But that’s who you are. I thought you were kind, and that was your strength. But perhaps you are too kind. Maybe there is a limit on how kind a person should be. Because now it’s coming back to bite you.”

Sanji rubs his scalp. The hair is growing back surprisingly fast. He’s itching for a cigarette. 

“Don’t misunderstand me. I’m not kind to everyone. I’ll happily kick any man in the face who harms a woman, or wastes food. I have my principles,” Zeff comes to mind. Don’t catch a cold. “That’s it.”

“I wonder if it really is that simple,” Reiju hums. “That kindness can be both strength and weakness. Even those principles, do they not come from a kindness towards women, towards the starving?”

Sanji grits his teeth. He doesn’t want to talk about that. He’s an asshole, isn’t he? Or had the Baratie’s tough atmosphere and Zeff’s principles simply molded what he turned his kindness towards, how he expressed it? He’s starting to get sick of that word already - kindness. As if it could all boil down to that. 

So he doesn’t answer Reiju’s question, because he can’t see himself in that light. 

“As much as I hate Germa, I wouldn’t have escaped Whole Cake Island with Luffy without your intervention. It’s biting me now, but back then, if I hadn’t saved the Vinsmokes, me and half my crew would be dead. I made my choice then. And I’m not sorry for it.” 

Reiju smiles sadly. “I wouldn’t change you. That part of you is so strong. And now Father is realising that.”

“He’s still going to change me. Change us, it sounds like.”

“Yes. He has realised my programming allows for loopholes. He’s figuring out how to close those, and then he’ll work on you. I’m unable to free you this time. You’ll have to wait for your crew.”

Sanji swallows. “And my crew, what is he going to do to them? What’s all this about, Reiju?”

But Reiju shakes her head. She almost looks defeated. Sanji wishes she could escape, too. Her hands are bloodstained. But that doesn’t mean things can’t be better for her someday.

“I can’t tell you that. But it will all become clear soon. Having seen what your crew is capable of, they can’t be too far away. Hold onto that.”

She reaches for the switch and her face disappears, replaced by Sanji’s own reflection. 

He doesn’t feel any better for having seen her. 

The Strawhats gather around in the galley again in the evening. Jinbe has cooked for them. He’s used Sanji’s recipe book, so it tastes good, but it’s not the same. The eggs are overdone, the rice is underdone. Well spiced, but not quite right. 

“So, what did you find?” Brook asks as they all tuck in. Chopper looks contemplative. 

“There was a weird smell. Like chemicals, or something. It was familiar, but I can’t remember where from!” His ears droop. “I’m sorry! I’ll try to remember!”

“Hey, it’s alright,” Usopp pats Chopper’s head. “I didn’t find much either. I did find this…” He reaches into his pocket and produces a half smoked cigarette. 

“I think that’s the brand Sanji smokes. We can’t be sure, but it’s possibly his…” Nami chews her lip. 

“You both did better than me,” Jinbe sighs. “I didn’t find anything of note in the sea around there.”

“My chat with our witnesses was quite fruitful,” Robin comments. Everyone looks at her, and even Luffy slows down his chewing. “Mrs Bees, first name Pamela. She was walking from her house to her sister’s house through the woods when she heard a strange laugh, and then began to feel faint. She woke up near the cove on the Western shore, with no idea how she got there.” 

“Strange laugh? That narrows it down to, like, literally every bad guy we’ve ever met,” Usopp mutters sullenly. “And half the good guys too.”

Robin smiles and goes on. “Ognen Zlatkov. Local fisherman, barely seventeen years old. It was easy to make him talk. He was delivering a catch to the fishmonger and passed Sanji coming up the path that leads to the cove. He didn’t think anything more about it until he heard about Pamela.”

“So he was definitely there!” Franky grins. “That’s something! He must have felt the woman in distress.”

“So she was bait,” Zoro speaks up. The others look at him. “Which means…”

“...That whoever took Sanji knows him well,” Nami finishes his thought, looking pensive. “Whoever it was has met him personally, or knows someone who has. This sort of stuff isn’t on his wanted poster.”

There’s a tense, worried silence. There are plenty of enemies who hold personal grudges against Sanji. Almost everyone they’ve ever defeated, since Sanji had a hand in them all. But there are a select few that might really hate Sanji. 

“...We’ll go out again tomorrow. Ask around the place where Sanji was, someone might have seen a ship,” Luffy decides. It’s as good a plan as any, so the others mutter their agreements and go back to eating. 

Zoro doesn’t think any of them will be getting much sleep. 

Chapter Text

It’s been over a week of very little progress. Zoro doesn’t know what to do with himself. He feels useless. 

They don’t think Sanji has been taken by the Marines. The Marines would be gloating if they were to catch a member of Luffy’s crew, would happily set up a public execution. So not the Marines, or anyone who has turned Sanji in for his bounty. That leaves pirates, and whoever else would want the cook. 

Zoro is in town when they finally make another breakthrough. The townspeople have become increasingly hostile, but they know better than confronting an emperor’s crew. Rumours have spread about the woman who collapsed near the shoreline, and half the locals think the Strawhats are to blame. Still, they search every day for clues, talk to people who might have seen something. It’s Nami’s particular affinity with children that produces results this time. 

Zoro sees her talking to a group near a schoolhouse. She’s crouched down and smiling, chatting happily. Maybe her orange hair helps, some of the children might think she’s a local. The children depart steadily, until there’s just one little girl. Unexpectedly, Nami gestures Zoro over. 

“Sienna, can you tell my friend Zoro what you saw?” Nami asks kindly. It’s so weird to see her like this. Usually she’s bossing Sanji around. Or bossing Zoro around. Or bossing Luffy around. It’s nice, though. To see a different side of her. There’s something on edge in her expression, though. Something has spooked her. 

Sienna, a girl of about seven with dark orange hair in a ponytail, looks up at Zoro. Zoro does his best not to look like a demonic swordsman, more at home in Sienna’s nightmares or the cautionary tales told by her parents. He smiles, and probably either looks constipated or like he’s ready to murder someone. 

Sienna hides a little behind Nami, but thankfully doesn’t run away.

“I, um, saw a ship. On the day you said.”

“Right!” Nami pats her head. “What kind of ship? It was a funny looking one, right?”

“Yeah!” Sienna giggles. “It was a snail!” 

A snail. As a ship? Why is that ringing alarm bells? 

“Thanks so much for telling us, Sienna. We’re going to go back to our ship now, you better run along home or your parents will worry.”

After Sienna runs off, Nami grabs Zoro’s arm with a grim expression and begins to pull him along. 

“A snail ship?” Zoro questions. Nami’s lips are pressed together in a thin line. 

“Mm. You might have heard from Chopper or Brook or Luffy. A snail ship can mean only one thing. Germa.”

The blood freezes in Zoro’s veins. Germa? As in Sanji’s family? Zoro doesn’t know much about them, nobody has told him. He only knows they threatened Zeff’s life, and that’s enough that Zoro’s wary. 

“He’s gone back there?”

“Not willingly, I’m sure. Let’s discuss it with the others.”

They head back to the ship. Whilst they wait for the others to get back from their day of searching, Nami closes herself in her map room with their transponder snail. She has a list of people to call. Zoro sits outside the office door and listens. 

“Law? It’s Nami,” a pause. “No, we’re not asking for much! Listen - Sanji’s been taken by Germa, we need to know if you’ve seen any of their ships. They look like snails… yes, the real Germa has snail ships. No it’s not cool-”

“Yamato, hi. I won’t keep you, just one quick question, have you seen-”

“Carrot, hey, I need to ask you a question, did you see any-”

“Bartolomeo, isn’t it? Ah, you don’t need to scream-”

“Hello, is this Ivankov?-”

“Cavendish, hello-”

“Marco-”

Zoro closes his eyes and leans his head back. Nami, too, is doing her best to find their cook. She’s using her strengths, ones Zoro doesn’t have. He would never admit it out loud, but he’s grateful for her. 

Brook, who had stayed on the ship to keep watch, approaches Zoro with a tray of green tea, and sits next to him beside Nami’s door. Zoro nods to Brook and picks up the tea. He’d prefer sake, but Chopper has cut him off, citing the amount he’d been drinking since the cook went missing. Something something bad for his liver something alcoholism something something losing brain cells he couldn’t afford to lose something. Zoro’s fine, but he stops drinking for now because he can’t stand the worried, tearful look on Chopper’s face. The little reindeer doesn’t need more things to worry about.

Despite not having any skin with which to make facial expressions, Brook’s face is questioning as he looks at Zoro.

“Germa have the cook,” Zoro grunts. Brook sips his tea. 

“Ah. That’s not good.”

Brook leans his head against the wall, listening to Nami. 

“I suppose those of us who were on Whole Cake Island ought to tell the rest of you what we know, then,” he looks down into his tea with empty eyes. It’s not quite as good as when Sanji makes it. “It’s not our story to tell, the little that we know, but any information could prove invaluable.”

Zoro tilts his head. He can hear the rest of the crew arriving back, one by one. 

“Was it that bad?” Zoro asks. Brook sets his tea down so he can rise to greet the crew. 

“Zoro… I think it was worse than any of us know.”

And with those chilling final words, Brook heads out to see the others. Zoro watches him go, trying to ignore the growing dread. 

Once Nami is done with her phone calls, and the crew are all back, they gather again in the galley. Brook must have told the others already, because Luffy has a particularly stormy look on his face. Zoro hasn’t seen Luffy this angry for a while.

“They said they’d leave Sanji alone,” Luffy mutters. There’s a power to his voice, crackling under the surface like the tremors that precede an earthquake. 

“That goes to show we can’t trust the word of a man like Judge,” Nami says. “Even though we saved his damn life!”

Having fended for herself for so long when she was younger, Nami is good at discerning the intentions of others. She’s probably berating herself for not realising the danger Germa still poses. 

“They’re Sanji’s family, right?” Franky frowns. “What’re they like?”

“They’re not his family!” Chopper insists tearfully. He’s sitting in Robin’s lap, and she places a hand on his head to soothe him. She looks around the table.

“If you can, it might be useful if those who encountered Germa were to enlighten the rest of us on what they know.” 

There’s a tense silence, hanging in the air like a thick fog. It doesn’t feel right, discussing Sanji’s personal life like this. Sanji will tell them if and when he is ready. But they have to know what they’re up against. 

Chopper starts the explanation, talking about meeting Yonji and Reiju on their way to Whole Cake Island.

“Reiju was nice. She saved Luffy! But Yonji was mean…” Chopper frowns. “Not like Sanji at all. Except he thought Nami was hot.”

“He wasn’t a gentleman like Sanji at all,” Nami mutters.

“Reiju and Yonji?” Usopp blinks. “ Rei like zero and Yon like four? Don’t tell me there’s an Ichiji and Niji too!”

“There is,” Jinbe confirms. “I’m not sure why Judge would name them like that.”

“I think I know…” Chopper mumbles, looking down at the table. “After Sanji used his raid suit on Wano, his genetics activated. His skin became hardened, like an exoskeleton. When I examined him, he explained a little. Him and his siblings were experiments. Judge was part of MADS, with Vegapunk and Caesar and Queen. Judge messed with their genetics in the womb, but it didn’t work on Sanji because his mother took a poison. So his siblings got hardened exoskeletons, accelerated healing, strange powers. They also lost their emotions, except Reiju. They don’t feel empathy, or… or kindness, or sadness, or anything! That’s why they’re so horrible! It’s cruel! I can’t believe Judge would do that!” 

Chopper rubs at his eyes to wipe away angry, upset tears. That doctors and scientists could be so cruel, see children as experiments, it's the kind of thing that makes Chopper want to go full monster. The kind of thing that turns Chopper from fluffy little doctor to beast. 

The pieces are starting to fall into place for Zoro.

 “...Yeah. Okay, I hate doctors. Not Chopper, he’s great. He’s always patient with me. But it’s not the first time I’ve seen human experimentation. This world fucking sucks. Looking at people like they’re numbers on a page. What’s with that?”

“At the end of all this, if I lose my mind… I want you to kill me.”

Zoro feels sick. Sanji hadn’t wanted to become like his brothers. He’d rather die at Zoro’s hands than become that way. Is that what’s happening now? Will they get their love cook back as he was? Hot tempered, brash, kind, loyal, self sacrificing. Zoro can’t imagine Sanji any other way. 

“We didn’t see much of his other two brothers,” Nami says pensively. “But they were laughing at Sanji’s pain, in the carriage.”

“They beat him up,” Chopper sniffled. “I had to fix his face after. He was wearing a mask that hid it.”

“They called him a failure. As we were leaving. His father too,” Luffy’s voice is quietly furious. 

Zoro flexes his fingers and tempers his rage down. How dare they? Sanji is not a failure. Sanji is Zoro’s equal. One of the wings of the future pirate king. Nobody’s allowed to bully Sanji except Zoro. Wado shivers pleasantly in her hilt, sensing his bloodlust. 

“There’s the bracelets, too,” Franky adds. When everyone looks puzzled, including those who had been to Whole Cake Island, he rubs his neck. “...Sanji bro came to me on Wano to remove them, he couldn’t get them off. Managed to get it out of him that they were explosive. Would’a blown his hands off if he escaped, ‘cept his sister swapped them for fakes. Made me super angry. Who fucking does that? To his hands! ”

There’s a sudden crack to Zoro’s left. Luffy has broken the table, a large crack emerging from the edge where Luffy is gripping it, white knuckled. The bloodlust and horror of the crew is so palpable Zoro can taste it, sharp and bitter, dangerous, electric. 

His hands. They were going to take the cook’s hands. His treasure. 

Nobody knows what to say. They look to Luffy.

“Do we know where Germa is?” Luffy asks Nami. She nods. Her face has gone white. Maybe she’s replaying the events of Whole Cake Island with this new context. 

“One of the Mink ships saw their flagship just a few days ago. They’re going to check their logs and call me back soon with coordinates.”

That’s a relief. They have a goal. Something tangible, a real lead. Sanji is in their sights. But the crew can’t relax, all still murderous. 

They can’t afford to relax until Sanji is safe from these monsters. Zoro puts a hand to Wado’s hilt.

Until the monsters can’t hurt anybody again. 

They leave the autumn island behind that evening. As soon as Nami has the coordinates through, she takes charge, ordering them to raise the anchor, unfurl the sails, set the course. Jinbe is commanding at the helm, back straight, gaze ahead. It’s well past the time most of the crew go to bed but they’ve all been anxiously waiting for Nami’s instruction. 

Even once they’ve set sail and they’re on the right course, it’s hard to get any rest. They all hang out together on the deck, playing cards or reading or talking. Maybe they should be cleaning, doing chores. It has become increasingly obvious how much Sanji did around the ship. The deck is starting to get dirty, the rooms are getting dusty, and the laundry is piling up. But doing chores right now would mean leaving each other, and they all want to be together right now.

Usopp takes Chopper to bed when the little reindeer falls asleep on the lawn. The rest of the crew go to bed reluctantly one by one, until Zoro and Nami are the only ones left. She has brought a map and some tools out to the deck, preferring to be amongst the crew as she works rather than alone in the map room. She has her glasses perched on her nose but Zoro can still see the dark bags under her eyes. 

“I’m on watch,” he says, standing arms crossed next to her chair. She’s working by lamplight, pouring over the map she’s looked at a hundred times and could draw in her sleep. 

“I slapped him,” Nami replies, instead of acknowledging what he said. “Back on Whole Cake. When he was so hurt, inside and out. I slapped him.”

Zoro sighs and sits next to her.

“Did he deserve it?”

“I thought so at the time!” Nami looks frustrated with herself. “But he was trying to keep us safe. I lost faith in him. He never lost faith with me, back with Arlong, and he barely even knew me! Not when I stole the Merry, or anything. I was so quick to believe he’d hurt Luffy for no good reason. Luffy never believed it. He saw the pain in Sanji. Why couldn’t I?” 

“Mm,” Zoro grunts. “But did he deserve it?”

Nami goes quiet for a few moments.

“...A bit,” she admits. “Even in context. Maybe he should have believed in us more, too. I don’t blame him for that now. I was the same. I wouldn’t usually be so quick to believe he’d betray us but… but the way he hurt Luffy… he was really hurting him, not holding back. It was bad. I haven’t even apologised, and now he’s gone.”

“And that was his plan. To make you go away. You can’t blame yourself. He’s a cunning bastard. Most would have fallen for it. Luffy’s built different. Besides, you know he forgave you for it as soon as you’d done it. Dumb love cook. He probably doesn’t even think about it. Apologise when he’s back if it makes you feel better, but he’s gonna insist it’s not necessary.”

Nami snorts and rubs her eyes. If Zoro sees a hint of tears, he doesn’t say anything. He gets up and offers her a hand, which she reluctantly takes. 

“We’re on the right path thanks to you. Guilt over the past won’t help. Pouring over the map ten more times won’t help. Get some sleep so you’ll be ready if the weather changes.”

Nami sighs. She knows he’s right even if she would never admit it. She gathers her things. “Since when were you so nice, huh?”

“Whatever, witch,” Zoro rolls his eyes, but his tone is fond. He watches her head to bed, and then he climbs the crow’s nest. He picks up a weight. 

He has to get stronger, so he can break Judge Vinsmoke’s jaw with a single punch. 

They reach Germa’s flagship three days later. It’s the middle of the day, the weather is overcast and threatens rain, but Nami has predicted there won’t be any - so there won’t be any. 

Luffy gathers most of the crew in his rubbery arms, leaving Jinbe behind to mind the ship, and catapults them up, up, up, hearts in their mouth (not that Brook has a-) and onto the lawn in front of the castle. They land in an undignified heap, and they’re immediately attacked by a large number of Germa soldiers. With nearly the whole crew fighting, it’s easy to take down the horde of grunts. 

Usopp shoots seeds faster than the eye can see, and plants sprout up to catch soldiers all over the castle grounds. He finds a high up spot and watches their backs. Nami brings down huge numbers with her lightning, Robin cracks the necks and backs of many unfortunate souls. Luffy and Zoro clear the way towards the castle, where they assume Sanji is. Chopper and Franky follow in their wake, with Brook bringing up the rear to strike down any stray soldiers trying to get a hit in. 

There’s a sudden flash of green light. A man flies up from the castle into the sky and comes crashing down with a fist aimed at Luffy’s cheek. Luffy barely dodges, stepping back out of the way. 

“Strawhat! We meet again, did ya miss me?”

“Green Sanji! No, Mean Sanji!” Luffy glares. “Where’s our Sanji?”

‘Green Sanji’ jumps back into the air. It looks like he might be using those ugly boots to fly. Needing advanced technology to even get close to what Sanji has achieved with hard work. 

“It’s Yonji! Yon-ji! And why would you want to know where the failure is? You should be grateful we took him off your hands!” 

“So you do have him!” Nami accuses.

“Nuh uh!”

Zoro’s eyebrow twitches. Was this bastard part of the reason Sanji had taken such an instant dislike of Zoro? The hair, the similar face? He gets it. Yonji is completely insufferable. Way more so than Sanji. 

“We don’t have time for this,” Robin’s expression is sharp. She crosses her arms. “Clutch!”

Arms sprout from Yonji’s back and snap his body together. Robin frowns. Zoro watches her expression, even as he continues taking down dozens of soldiers. The arms disappear. For a few moments, Yonji hovers in the air, folded grotesquely in half. Then he takes a deep breath in and unfolds himself with a metallic popping sound, like metal sheets unfurling. He sends a smug look down at Robin. 

“Do you like my body?” He asks lecherously. He eyes Robin up and down. Franky steps in the way. 

“Oy, oy, less of that!” Franky scowls. Yonji shoots down again, intending to attack Franky, but Zoro’s sick of this green haired bastard.

He strikes down the soldiers in front of him with one powerful slash, and then darts in front of Franky. He blocks the strike with two crossed swords and strikes back at Yonji’s chest with the sword in his mouth. Yonji crashes to the floor, and quicker than anyone can blink, Zoro has his sword to Yonji’s neck.

“Don’t move.”

Yonji scowls up at him. “Fuck you!” 

“I won’t hesitate. Stay down.”

Yonji may be stupid, a few planks short of a full sloop, but even he isn’t stupid enough to test Zoro’s patience. He stays down, and Franky and Chopper head inside to look for Sanji. Chopper’s keen nose should sniff him out. 

It takes half an hour for them to come back out, Sanji-less. 

“...He’s not here,” Chopper admits tearfully. 

“What?!” Nami’s eyes are wide. She was so sure- “Check again! Look harder!”

“He’s right, sis,” Franky sighs. “Looks like Germa here have formed a new alliance. They call it NEO MADS. That familiar chemical smell that Chopper sniffed out on the cliffs, that was Caesar. That clown bastard. Sanji’s with them. We found a logbook, it has info on where all the ships are in the Germa fleet, and who’s on them. It doesn’t use Sanji’s name, but we matched the numbers to his old medical files. He’s on a small laboratory ship with Judge and Caesar.”

Caesar Clown. That was a name Zoro had hoped to never hear again except for an obituary mention. A man can dream.

“Numbers?” Usopp blinks. Chopper sniffs and holds up the hefty file he’s holding. Blazoned on the front is G66-03.

“He’s experiment G66-03. Three. Like San.”

Zoro feels sick. They came all this way and the cook isn’t even-

“But we can find him!” Franky says quickly at their despondent expressions. “There were vivre cards for each snail. It’s genius! They use a clipping from its shell! But it means we can follow the card directly to Sanji. The ship he’s on isn’t near any others so even if Yonji spills the beans, they can’t transfer him. We can be there in a couple weeks!”

The crew brightens at that. Weeks sounds like way too long but they know where Sanji is now. They can get their cook back. 

“...So we just leave Yonji here? Free? Alive?” Usopp looks dubiously at the green haired menace, who lies fuming on the floor. 

“Sanji didn’t want his siblings to die, so we can’t kill him,” Luffy says simply. “It’ll be fine, he’s not strong!”

Zoro brings his sword back from Yonji’s neck reluctantly. Wado feels unhappy, thirsting for the blood of one of the people who hurt their cook. As a consolation, he bonks the hilt hard off of Yonji’s empty head, knocking him out. 

The crew head back to the ship, armed with the means to retrieve their precious friend.

Yonji requests a transponder snail as soon as he wakes up.

“Father. It’s Yonji,” he drawls. “The Strawhats are on their way.”

Chapter Text

Sanji hears Caesar and Judge long before he sees them.

They’re arguing, with Caesar’s high pitched tone especially whiny today. Judge’s voice has taken on an angry, authoritative tone, and the child within Sanji flinches when he hears it. Their footsteps are heavy in the corridor leading to Sanji’s cell.

“It’s too soon! We should sail as fast as we can to buy more time to perfect the serum!” Caesar sounds scared, but not of Judge. Then of who?

“You’ve seen first hand what the Strawhats can do. We didn’t expect them to find us so quickly but we shouldn’t be surprised either. They could arrive any time in the next two or three weeks. If we don’t leave now, they’ll chase us down immediately. We need a good enough headstart so that they don’t bother us for now.”

“And if the serum doesn’t work?!” Caesar’s voice climbs in pitch. “Then the whole plan will be for nothing! Our revenge, down the drain! Our legitimacy, lost!”

Judge snorts derisively. The door to Sanji’s cell slides open.

“Trust in the genius of NEO MADS. There were only a few testing stages left. It will work.”

Judge is carrying a briefcase. Behind him, the clone army is running back and forth. They look like they’re packing things up, carrying equipment and files. Reiju passes by with a suitcase and does not look in Sanji’s cell.

Sanji has already stood up, squaring off against Caesar and Judge. 

“What’s going on?” He asks. Judge puts the briefcase down and clicks the latches open. “Hey! Answer me, you bastard!”

“Restrain him,” Judge gestures. Caesar, never happy at being told what to do, grumbles as he approaches Sanji. Sensing that this might be a really very not good thing, Sanji aims a kick at Caesar’s face. But his balance hasn’t been right the last couple of days and he’s way off. He manages to stay upright, even dodging Caesar trying to grab him, but he’s no match for Caesar’s gas right now. He chokes, throat burning, a fire spreading down his trachea to his lungs. His legs go weak and wobble like a newborn foal. Caesar kicks the back of his knee, hard, and he goes down. That’s sure to bruise. His accelerated healing hasn’t been able to keep up in the last couple of days. Probably malnutrition. 

Caesar sits behind Sanji and gets him into a headlock, twisting his head to one side and exposing his pale neck. Judge approaches with a syringe, and suddenly it’s all Sanji can see, zeroed in on the needle point, the room's lights stark white and too bright behind it. His heart beats wildly in his chest. He feels hunted, he is prey, the jaws are closing in, whatever this is it’s not good, he struggles, kicking out, but Caesar’s grip is firm, he’s laughing in Sanji’s ear, the needle is getting closer, closer-

A sharp scratch of pain. 

A slow spread of ice, starting at his neck and creeping up towards his head, down towards his chest. Spreading like an infection, ice cold, he feels it under his skin, he feels it in his teeth, cold and painful, he gasps, it’s like being plunged into the freezing ocean, he can’t breathe, he can’t-

A pain in his head. It starts off low, like a too-warm hot water bottle. Then it spreads, takes over his whole head, burning pressure behind his eyes, it’s so hot it’s so cold it’s burning it hurts it hurts help, someone, mama, Zeff, Zoro-

And it’s gone. It dissipates like smoke snatched by the wind. 

There’s a void instead. Like his brain is lighter. Like his skull is as empty as Brook’s. The only sound is his own gasping breaths. They sound so loud in the void. Shaky, desperate. In, out, in, out. The lights are too bright, his limbs are heavy like they don't belong to him. 

Caesar lets him go and he flops to the floor like a dead fish. Judge crouches down and yanks Sanji’s head up with a fistful of his short hair. Sanji groans and squeezes his eyes shut. 

“Look at me.”

Sanji’s eyes snap open and find Judge. He’s vaguely aware that he’s shaking. A slow smirk grows on Judge’s face. 

“Tell me who your mother is.”

“Sora Vinsmoke,” the words come out of Sanji’s mouth without his permission. Cold dread and panic rise within him.

“And tell me, who is your father?”

“Redleg Zeff,” Sanji blurts. “What the fuck?” 

Judge scowls. “Who is your biological father?”

Silence. Sanji doesn’t feel compelled to say anything. Has it worn off?

“ Tell me who your biological father is.”

“Judge Vinsmoke.”

“Good. That’s about what I expected.” Judge releases Sanji’s hair. “Sit up.”

Sanji’s body moves on its own. Everything hurts, his muscles screaming, limbs shaking, but he does it anyway. He tries to stop his body from moving, but he’s not in control at all. 

“Tell nobody what has happened to you here. Tell nobody about these instructions or your compulsion to follow them. Do not attempt to communicate this information in any way. Lie if you have to. Try to act normal.”

And then Judge leans in, close to Sanji’s ear. He whispers instructions that make Sanji’s eyes widen and his heart turn to ice. 

Not that. Anything but that.

Then Judge stands. Caesar is by the door already, ready to leave. 

“The Strawhats will be here in two or three weeks. Stay in this room until they get here. Don’t die.” 

They close the door behind them. The lights flicker out half an hour later. The ship feels empty. Sounds empty.

They never come back. 

“There it is! We found it! Guys!”

It’s the middle of the night, sixteen days after leaving the Germa flagship. They’ve all been on their toes, a tension settling over the ship. Chopper, who has been going through Sanji’s childhood medical records, is always on the verge of tears. Zoro takes most of the shifts on night watch, searching the horizon for any sign. He doesn’t know how to feel anymore. His anger towards Sanji’s actions has mostly fizzled out in the face of what he’s learned. He still wants an explanation, but he also wants to hug Sanji close and never let him go again. And he wants to kill Judge. 

It’s one of the few times he isn’t on night watch when Usopp spots the snail ship. Zoro hadn’t been asleep. He’s up and on deck first, peering across the waves. The others join one by one in various states of sleepiness. But they’re all dressed and ready, armed with their weapons or clenching their fists. It’s a clear night, and a full moon shimmers down on the still waves. The ocean is quiet, save for the gentle lapping of the water against the boat. 

With Jinbe’s steering and some extra cola for the Sunny, they come alongside the other ship in minutes. It’s not a huge ship like the flagship was; it’s only a little bigger than the Sunny. It’s also dark. And quiet. Even the snail is asleep.

“Creepy…” Usopp cringes. 

“Maybe a ghost army swept in during the night and murdered everyone horrifically in their sleep?” Robin supposes. Usopp protests with a screech, but Zoro tunes him out. He spreads his haki, searching. Empty. Empty. Something? A faint flicker of a person, barely there. 

“There’s only one person on board,” Zoro says, letting his disappointment just barely colour his tone. They must have had lifeboats or something, because the small Germa army they expected is gone. 

The crew deflates. Too late. Again. 

“That one person must know something!” Luffy cracks his knuckles. “Maybe it’s Judge and we can kick his ass!”

Zoro hopes so. His swords are singing for blood. 

Since there’s only one person on board, it’s decided that Luffy, Zoro, Robin and Chopper will board the boat. Luffy and Zoro to deal with that one person if they’re a threat, Robin to search the place, Chopper to sniff out clues or any paperwork on what’s been happening to Sanji. 

The ship is eerily quiet. It was clearly abandoned in a hurry, laundry still in machines and growing mouldy, dirty plates still set out in a dining hall. They’d probably left the same day the Strawhats had left the Germa flagship. Robin and Chopper go down a different corridor when the doctor smells something of interest, whilst Luffy and Zoro keep doing down, deeper into the metal bowels of the ship. Their footsteps are loud in the tense silence, clacking against the metal floor. Occasionally one of Robin’s eyes blooms on them to look around. Checking the surroundings, and to reassure herself that they’re safe. 

The corridors are pitch black. They’ve brought lamps with them, and the light casts long shadows down the cold metal corridors. It’s freezing down here.  Goosebumps prickle on Zoro’s skin.

They follow their haki down to a corridor of doors and windows. It’s a dead end. Whoever’s here is behind one of those doors. Solid metal - they almost look like prison cells. 

Zoro stops at the first room on the right. He raises his lamp at the window, but it’s too dark in the room and the light can’t penetrate. He raises an eyebrow when he sees that the door is slightly open, the metal bent and bulging where someone has damaged it from the inside. Someone has broken out. 

But they’re still inside. Zoro can feel them beyond the door. Someone strong. Someone dying. Someone familiar, but Zoro can’t put a finger on who it is. 

Luffy is the one who pushes the door open. It groans unhappily, held on by only the top hinge. Luffy raises his lamp. The figure inside is huddled on a mattress, shivering. Much too small to be Judge, from what Zoro knows. Did they really leave one of their prisoners behind? A victim? Zoro feels sick. 

“Robin,” he says lowly, knowing she’s listening. “You need to get Chopper down here. It’s a prisoner. Doesn’t look good.”

Zoro is debating going up to the captive when the person wakes. He gasps, like a drowning man, and sits up, face pale, with the most terrified look Zoro has ever seen. It’s not an expression that belongs on this man. 

Zoro almost drops his lamp. 

It’s Sanji. 

“Fuck,” he gasps, mouth going dry. “Cook?”

“Huh?” Luffy had been looking at the window. He darts over and skids to his knees, taking Sanji’s cheeks in his warm, tanned hands. “Sanji!”

“...Captain?” Sanji rasps. He looks awful. His hair is weird, mismatched and too short, not even covering his eyebrow. He’s emaciated, cheeks sunken in, and the hospital gown - fuck - that he's wearing is filthy. Zoro is horrified. His heart twists. They left Sanji behind? Why? 

There’s a tapping of hooves and a clicking of heels. Robin and Chopper appear in the doorway. Chopper is already crying.

“Sanjiiiii!” He sobs. Robin must have heard. Chopper hurries over. He goes to take Sanji’s pulse at his wrist, but a jangling sound and a quiet beeping stop him in his tracks. Everyone in the room stares. 

“Robin,” Luffy’s voice drips with power and anger. Zoro sees Sanji flinch just slightly, and Luffy takes his cook's hand. “Get Franky here.”

Robin crosses her arms, and ten minutes later Franky appears with a toolkit. His expression is grim. 

Zoro watches Franky approach Sanji. Watches Sanji flinch. This is weird. Why did they leave Sanji behind? After going through all that to take him? It doesn’t make sense. Unless Judge has decided that taking on an Emperor of the Sea was a mistake. Which it was. 

There’s a click as each bracelet comes off. Sanji stares at his wrists. Skinnier than they were weeks ago, but intact. Safe. 

“Sanji, I want to take you back to the Sunny before I start to examine you, is that okay?” Chopper asks. Sanji takes a shaky breath in and out. 

“Yeah, Chop, no worries.” Sanji tries to get to his feet, legs shaking. Zoro moves to help, and Sanji squints at him as if only just noticing he’s there. 

“Mosshead,” Sanji is slurring his words now. “...Fuck off.”

And then his eyes roll into the back of his skull, and he faints into Zoro’s arms. 

The first thought Sanji has when he wakes up is that he’s warm. The power went out when everyone left weeks ago, and since then it’s been freezing cold and pitch black. Silent, except for the few mice he hears scampering around. They haven’t tried to get his food stash - there’s probably much more for them to feast on in the kitchens. 

Sanji wishes he could go there. So much food and he can’t get to it, because he can’t leave the fucking room. He’s tried everything he can think of. Tried telling himself to leave, tried to exit backwards, tried to crawl. But even though he has broken the door down, he can’t get out. The open door has taunted him every day since. It’s torture in itself. Maybe even worse than the dungeon he’d spent months in as a child. On the days that seem longer than others, he yells. Screams at the top of his lungs. Come back! Someone! Hey! Is anyone there? Please! It's so cold, it's so cold-

So warm is a surprise. Warm is nice. Warm is… not right. 

He sits up with a gasp and hisses at the sting in his eyes. The lights are dimmed but weeks in the dark means his eyes are sensitive. He can just about make out a tall figure leaving the room. That silhouette… Zoro?

He’s on the Sunny. In the infirmary. Relief and dread flood him at the same time. The home he’s been yearning for and yet the last place he wants to be. 

But he can freak out about that later. First things first. 

His hands shake as he roots around under the mattress. They should still be… aha! He fishes out a pack of cigarettes and a spare lighter. Chopper always confiscates his cigarettes when in the infirmary so Sanji has started hiding them around just in case. He lights a cigarette with shaking hands, and the first inhale tastes like safety. Familiarity. Not the cold, dark hole he’d been in. A false sense of security, maybe, but it calms his fluttering heart all the same.

“Sanji!” The door slams open, making Sanji jump, and Chopper rushes in. “You’re awake! How are you feel- ahhhhh! Put out that cigarette right now!”

Sanji snorts softly and puts out the cigarette on the side of the glass vase at the bedside table, since there isn’t an ashtray. 

“Sorry, Chopper,” Sanji coughs into the back of his hand. He’ll chain smoke at least five cigarettes once he’s out of the infirmary. Chopper comes over to check his vitals. Despite the flowers on the table, Sanji can still smell the antiseptic. It makes him tense as a bowstring. He wants to pull away, to tell Chopper not to touch him, but he stays still. 

“I know I say this every time, but please stop smoking, Sanji! It’s bad for you.”

“Sorry,” Sanji says again. They both know he won’t.

"How are you feeling? Nauseous? Are you in any pain? How about your mental state?" Chopper asks. Sanji rolls his shoulders, looks at his hands. 

"Yeah, a bit nauseous. Sore. My head hurts?" It's easier to talk about how he's feeling physically than mentally, so he pretends he didn't hear that last bit. Having probably expected he'd avoid the question, Chopper moves on for now. He  gently touches Sanji’s bare chest, where the odd bumps denote where he had that first surgery. Sanji forces himself not to pull away. 

“...I know this must be hard, but I need you to tell me what was done to you. There were experiments, right? We found the lab, but no paperwork. They must have taken it with them. It looks like they shaved your head too? Did you have a brain injury?” Chopper looks up at him expectantly with his big brown eyes and Sanji…

…Can’t say a word. 

He tries. He tries to say they messed with my brain or there were lots of drugs or they had a plan for the crew, I’m dangerous, get away. But nothing comes out. He can’t tell anyone anything. It was an order. 

“Nothing happened,” he whispers instead, sounding horrified even to his own ears. Chopper frowns. He looks like he wants to ask again, but lets it go for now. He brings out some soup. 

“Here, drink this. Slow sips. I’ll be right back, I have to check on your blood samples.”

Sanji sips the soup, although his stomach protests. It’s good. Slightly too salty, but good. He wants to scream. He wants to freak out, to tell Chopper to stop looking at his blood, he’s had enough of that, but nothing happens. 

Try to act normal.

He reaches for another cigarette once he finishes his soup. He puts it between his lips. Flicks the lighter on. 

…He can’t light it. 

He tries again. His hand won’t move. It doesn’t come any closer to the end of the cigarette. Trying to light it is like trying to change his eye colour or trying to shrink down to the size of a Tontatta. Physically impossible for his body to do. 

He sets his lighter aside with growing dread. His hands shake. 

Please stop smoking, Sanji!

Whatever Judge did to him to make him an obedient puppy, it’s working for everyone. Is that intentional? Or a flaw in whatever drug they gave him? His head spins. He feels sick. Fuck.

He physically can’t tell anyone. Those were Judge’s orders. But they’ll notice, right? It’ll make him act weird. But how far does try to act normal go? His crew know him, right? They’ll figure it out. They’ll realise he’s lost his freedom. Back on the Sunny, but still just as trapped as he was with Germa. It feels like his body is not his own, like it belongs to everyone except him. Like he’s in shackles. An invisible gun to his head. A hostage in his own skin. 

What if the crew don’t figure it out? Sanji will have to make a plan. Test the limits. And if he can’t…

Shit.

He remembers suddenly, through the panic and haze, the words Judge whispered to him. His body goes cold, throat gripped with fear. He’s a danger to the crew. His has a gun to their heads as much as everyone has one to his. And they don’t even know it, don’t know that Judge has ordered him to-

“Okay, Sanji!” Chopper trots back into the room. “I’ve looked at your blood results. There’s not much of note other than the effects of malnutrition.” 

Of course there wouldn’t be. All of the drugs are out of his system. Like it never happened. 

“The others are all hanging out outside, they really wanna see you. I’ll let them in two at a time. Only for a little while, you still need rest!” Chopper doesn’t wait for a reply. He lets Luffy and Nami in first. 

“Sanjiiiiii!” Luffy flies at him, launching himself onto the bed and wrapping his rubbery arms around Sanji several times. He looks at Sanji, searching his face for something before smiling. “I missed you so much! Make me meat!”

“Aye aye, captain. If you’re asking,” Sanji attempts to get up. Chopper shrieks. 

“No! Lie back down, Sanji, you need rest!”

Instantly, the compulsion to head to the kitchen fades, and Sanji flops back down. His whole body aches, despite there being little physical sign of what he’s been through. 

Nami has her hands on her hips, a worried look in her eyes. The sunset casts a warm orange glow into the room and she looks like a goddess, haloed with amber. There are dark bags under her eyes, though, and Sanji feels a flush of guilt. 

“Honestly, Sanji, we were so worried about you! You scared us! Those Germa bastards, what did they even want you for? What did they do to you?” 

“Nothing important!” Sanji says brightly instead of what he wants to say. “Ah, Nami is so cute when she’s mad. Sorry to make you worry.”

Something in Nami relaxes. She probably thinks he’s fine. He’s doing a great job of Trying to Act Normal. 

“I’m glad you’re okay. We’ve really missed your cooking,” she says. “But recover a bit first before you get back to cooking, okay?”

“I will,” Sanji promises, because he literally doesn’t have a choice now that she’s said it. 

“I’ll make sure of it!” Chopper says. “Thankfully you’re not too drastically underweight, Sanji. You should be able to get back to light duties in a week, maybe. You were gone for about five weeks, can you tell me how much of that time you were without food, Sanji?”

No he cannot.

He knows, more or less. He was well fed for the first few days but squirrelled some of his food into his mattress anyway. They fed him less and less as the weeks went on, until the last… however long it was, after everyone left. He thinks it was a couple of weeks but he’s not sure. He’d lived on his rations and thankfully hadn’t run out. But it hadn’t been much food.

“I don’t know,” he lies, because he can’t tell them. Chopper sighs, clearly unhappy with the lack of information Sanji is giving him. 

After Luffy and Nami leave, with Nami promising to fix Sanji's hair soon, Chopper sits next to Sanji’s bed and sets up a feeding schedule. With Sanji’s unfortunate prior experience, and his knowledge as a chef, he and Chopper can work together to step Sanji back up slowly to full meals. Sanji never thought he’d have to do that again, not after the rock. But he was always prepared. He always had spare food, contingency plans. Sometimes late at night, when the gentle swaying of the Merry - and later the Sunny - wasn’t enough for him to drift off to sleep, he’d go through refeeding menus in his head for himself and each of his crewmates. Just in case. 

After that work is done, Chopper lets in Robin and Usopp. 

“Man, am I glad to see you back!” Usopp pats Sanji’s shoulder. “I got a tonne of laundry that needs doing!”

He’s only joking, but Robin blooms an arm to lightly slap him on the head anyway. Sanji snorts. 

“Do it your damn self. How have you survived without me?”

“It was terrible!” Usopp wails dramatically. “Dirty underwear as far as the eye can see! A bushel of hair clogging the bath drain! So much dust you could make a sandstorm! I’ll tell you about the evil dust bunny I bravely defeated! It was seventeen feet tall-”

“We’re glad you’re home,” Robin interrupts. She takes Sanji’s hand. His heart flutters happily. It’s always nice to have affection from a beautiful lady. A part of him wants to recoil. A part of him doesn’t want anyone touching him. But he’s Trying to Act Normal, so he lets the happy part of himself win right now. Robin’s expression is worried and apologetic. “I’m sorry it took so long to find you. And I’m sorry that we did not appreciate how much work you have been doing. I will endeavour to do my part from now on.”

Sanji gasps. “Robin, my dear, there’s nothing to apologise for! I choose to clean up. I couldn’t possibly let you or Nami dirty your hands cleaning up after the men!”

“Oh, but I have so many hands,” Robin smiles softly, blooming a few arms to demonstrate. “I insist.”

“Me too!” Usopp rubs his nose. “Seriously, man. We’ll try to pitch in, especially whilst you’re recovering. We missed you a lot. Not ‘cause you do the chores, just ‘cause you’re you. You know?”

He doesn’t. Sanji can’t see his worth as separate from his work. Instead of answering, he yawns. 

“That’s enough for now,” Chopper nudges Robin and Usopp towards the door. When he opens it, Sanji spots the rest of the crew gathered outside, trying to peek in like naughty children. “No more visitors today!”

The crewmates who haven’t seen Sanji yet all groan - except Zoro. Zoro, Sanji notes, is right at the back, barely visible except for a hint of green. A moment later, Zoro’s eyes find his. They stare at one another. 

“I mean it!” Chopper looks back at Sanji. “Sanji, go to sleep for now. I’ll-”

Sanji doesn’t hear anything else. He’s out like a light, with Zoro’s intense expression the last thing he sees before he succumbs to darkness.

Chapter Text

There’s something weird about this whole thing. 

Little things. Things that aren’t adding up, no matter how much Zoro tries to make one plus one equal two. 

Why did Germa take Sanji only to apparently do nothing? The crew had gathered around Chopper for an explanation to be told that Sanji’s body seems mostly unchanged and Sanji himself claims nothing had happened. 

Why did Germa leave Sanji behind? All that effort to get him back, and then leaving him to rot in his cell? Had they intended for Sanji to die, leaving him behind as a message?

Another thing Zoro doesn’t understand - Sanji had broken the door to his cell down. But he’d still been starving. Surely there had been other food on the ship? Couldn’t he have found a transponder snail to call with? It’s not making sense. 

And the cook is acting… off. He seems fine. Following Chopper’s medical advice a little too closely. Sleeping a lot. It sounds good in theory, but it’s not Sanji. Sanji has never been one to get a lot of sleep. He’s up early to start on breakfast and up late cleaning up or prepping for the next day. Even when he’s injured, he prioritises his work over sleeping. So him resting as advised is weird. Maybe, though, Sanji is more exhausted this time. Starvation is different from normal injuries. It’s to be expected that Sanji would be ‘off’ after what he’s been through. 

Zoro avoids the infirmary for a couple of days after the cook wakes up, trying to get his head together. He’s about to bite the bullet, climbing down from the crow’s nest, when he sees Sanji leaning against the railing along the starboard side of the ship. The sun is setting. Sanji glows, ethereal and melancholy, and Zoro feels his heart stutter. There's something sad about the way Sanji is hunched over the railing - like the weight of the world is on his shoulders, pressing him down into the Adam Wood. 

“Should you be out of the infirmary, cook?” Zoro heads over. He doesn’t miss the way Sanji flinches. The cook has a lit cigarette in his fingers but he’s letting it burn down instead of smoking it. He briefly glances at Zoro before returning his attention to the soft glow of the slowly burning cancer stick. 

“Chopper says I can take breaks from the infirmary now. And I can leave tomorrow. No cooking for another few days though, so what the fuck am I meant to do with myself?”

Zoro snorts softly and rests his back against the railing. “You don’t have to do anything, Curls. And as if you’ve ever struggled to find anything to do. You’re always busy doing dumb shit.”

Sanji shoots him a glare. “Cleaning isn’t dumb, idiot moss. Someone has to do it. And I’ve been banned from that, too.”

Some ash falls from the cigarette and floats away in the gentle breeze. Zoro folds his arms. 

“So what if you don’t do all that shit right now? We’re not holding it against you.”

“I can still hold it against myself,” Sanji mutters. Zoro rolls his eyes. 

“If it doesn’t bother us, it shouldn’t bother you.”

“It’s not that simple, moron!” Sanji hisses. He looks at Zoro. It’s odd to see both of Sanji’s eyes looking at him; both eyebrows. He looks more open this way. Vulnerable. Maybe that’s why he hides half his face behind his hair - so he can try to hide how much he feels things. He's still undeniably beautiful, Zoro thinks. There are a few moments of silence as Zoro sizes Sanji up.

“...Are you ready to talk about it all yet? You leaving?” Zoro asks outright. “I learned a few things from the others. Stuff I’d rather you told me. Sounds like a shitty situation.” 

“It was,” Sanji flicks the cigarette butt into an ashtray on the railing. He hadn’t taken a single drag. “Sorry, Zoro. Can this wait until I’m feeling better?”

Zoro can’t help feeling irritated. Sanji is giving him the runaround. Again. Is Sanji really going to keep putting this off forever? There's only so much of this Zoro can take. He's a patient man, but even his patience has a line. He needs to know what happened. He needs to know how badly he let Sanji down by not going to Whole Cake Island, not being there to protect his crew. He needs to know if any of his anger towards Sanji is justified. 

“...One week.” Zoro pushes himself off the railing. “Tell me everything about it within the next week. Or lose the chance forever.”

The implication is clear. If Sanji’s not willing to have a proper conversation, there can be no them. No us. Sanji has gone pale. He picks the ashtray up and heads towards the infirmary. 

“Sure. A week. If you’re asking, I’ll tell you.” 

He disappears into the infirmary, and Zoro feels distinctly like he’s missing something. 

Nami sits Sanji down for a haircut the day after his unfortunate conversation with Zoro. 

It’s not like Sanji doesn’t want to talk to him. But the freedom to choose when and how, how much to say and what to hold back, has been taken from him. 

Tell me everything about it within the next week.

Everything. Every horrible detail. Every weakness, every tear. Things he’s never told anyone. Things he never wants to tell anyone, at the very least not right now. Maybe years from now, if their relationship were solid, when everything is said and done and their dreams are fulfilled, he’d tell Zoro then. All the worst bits, the bits that haunt his dreams, things he’d cast aside until the name Vinsmoke came back to haunt him like an insipid spectre. 

And now, he gets the feeling, he’s going to blurt it all out unceremoniously to the mosshead, who will undoubtedly be scared off by the word vomit. Trauma dumping is so not sexy.

Fucking fantastic. 

At least Nami is fixing his hair so he won’t look as stupid. She sits him down at the end of the infirmary bed, an old bedsheet spread out to catch the hair. Sanji has been spending a lot of time in this bed, unable to stop himself from falling asleep when Chopper asks him to. Weirdly, it’s been helping. Who could have known that resting instead of getting up and working when he’s unwell actually helps? Sanji thought Chopper was just saying that for fun.

Unfortunately sleeping more also means more nightmares. Ones he can’t wake up from until the morning, because his body refuses to stir until he’s had Chopper’s designated 8 hours. So he’s well rested but wakes up shaking each morning, memories of dark cells and Caesar’s laugh echoing in his head. 

Usually Robin or Usopp cut the crew’s hair, but Nami has insisted it be her. He doesn’t doubt her skills, and almost anything would be better than the current state. It's after breakfast, and the sunlight streams in through the window from a cloudless sky to illuminate his unfortunate haircut. 

“What a mess,” Nami looks his hair over. There’s a portion at the back that’s much longer, the rest is choppy and short. His scalp is smooth, with no signs that Caesar and Judge were meddling in his brain. “Why’d they shave it?”

“No reason,” Sanji replies, because he can’t tell her. Nami hums skeptically, like she has it all figured out, and starts to carefully cut. He keeps still. He’s never liked people touching his hair, or his head, but he also wants to start looking like himself again. Even if he doesn’t feel like himself. Nami’s hands are careful, her slim fingers nothing like the rough grips of his father and brothers. Or the cold, heavy metal of the helmet. He finds he doesn’t mind her touch so much. 

“...I’m sorry.” Nami breaks the silence with a sudden apology, and Sanji has to fight to keep still instead of turning to look at her.

“Nami, dear, whatever for? You haven’t done anything wrong.”

He clenches his hands together to stop them fidgeting. Despite weeks in captivity without a cigarette, the cravings are worse now than before. Maybe because his cigarettes are so close yet so far. He’s figured out he can light them if he doesn’t intend to smoke them, so he’s been lighting them and letting them burn down. The smell, at least, is comforting. 

“For slapping you. Back on Whole Cake Island. I should have realised you weren’t yourself, that there was more to it. When Franky told us about the bracelets, and Chopper told us about your family and how badly your face was already injured…” Nami takes a deep, shaky breath. “I felt awful. I keep replaying it in my head over and over. I’m sorry.”

Huh?

Sanji gapes, blinking. He had no idea this was bothering her. He carefully pulls away and looks back so he can see her. She looks tearful, and he can see the way she’s looking at his sunken cheeks and too-thin wrists. Guilt tugs at his chest. He’s making her worry. Making them all worry.

“Nami, no, what?” He takes her hand, and she lets him. “I deserved it, you know that. What kind of crewmate attacks his captain like that-”

“One with no other choice!” Nami shakes her head. 

“It might have felt like the only choice, but it’s still a choice I made. Truthfully, I was only worried you would never forgive me. ” Sanji frowns. He’s still worried about that. His actions are unforgivable, and if Judge has his way they’ll only get worse. What he did to Luffy on Whole Cake Island will pale in comparison to the betrayal he knows is looming.

“I do,” Nami says firmly, and he’s relieved to see that she means it. “Do you…?”

“There’s nothing to forgive, Nami dear. But if there were, I’d have forgiven you the moment your lovely palm touched my cheek.”

Nami snorts. “Only you could make a slap from a woman sound romantic. Turn your head, I’ve still got some to cut.”

Sanji’s head turns back around so fast it feels like whiplash. It’s a sobering reminder of the power she has over him. The power everyone has over him. 

Freedom is Luffy's thing. And yet here, on Luffy's ship, with his crew, he feels almost as trapped as he did in that dungeon. Sanji's heart yearns to hear the drums. The drums he heard on Wano. He can't remember what they sounded like, his anxiety is overwhelming his memory, but he knows they sounded like freedom. Like Luffy's laugh on a summer's day. Like Zoro's warm hand in his. Like inhaling the sea breeze and knowing the All Blue is out there for him to find. 

“You were really missed, you know? Both times you were gone. Luffy ate a poisonous fish the first time, and this time Franky ruined one of my favourite dresses by using cola in the machine!” Nami huffs, as if these two events are on the same level. “Please start doing the laundry again, Sanji? My poor fur gilet demands it! It won’t survive another hot wash from Usopp!”

Sanji swallows. Maybe this is a good thing. It’ll give him something to do. Besides, he’d never have said no to Nami anyway.

“Of course, Nami dear. Since you’re the one asking.”

Nami brightens and makes a pleased noise. “Thanks! Oh, I think I’m done up here, see?” 

She hands him a mirror. His hair is now all the same length. It’s choppy, but it’ll grow out to be more or less the same as before.  

“Thank you, Nami dear,” Sanji smiles at her and gets up, helping her to brush the hair up and pack the hairdressing kit away. Chopper will kill them if there’s hair all over his nice clean infirmary. “I’ll make you something delicious later as thanks,” he adds. 

“If you’re sure you’re up to it,” she replies. “But eat some with me then, okay? I want to talk to you about Zoro.”

Sanji pauses in the doorway. He can already feel a headache coming on. The last thing he wants to do is talk about Zoro. His skin is itching, he has laundry to do, so he can’t stop to try to reverse this command somehow. He swallows. 

“Of course. Anything for you,” he bows and excuses himself, heading to the laundry room. He’s still unsteady on his feet but he’s glad for the distraction from his spinning thoughts. It’s only a matter of time, right? The crew will figure it out. Nothing bad can happen whilst he’s with his friends on the Sunny, right? 

Except he knows that’s not true. For himself, or for the others. None of them are safe right now. If the crew can’t figure it out, Sanji hopes at the very least Zoro will think he’s gone weird enough to fulfill his end of the pact they made on Wano. Then the others would be safe from him. 

It’s a nice day. Sunny, with a pleasant breeze. Spring-like. There are birds circling overhead and the sky is a beautiful shade of blue. The ship is quiet - Luffy must be making mischief somewhere inside instead. 

When he reaches the laundry room, Franky is already there, loading some clothes into the machine. Sanji eyes the bottle of cola to one side. Franky built these machines, so one would think he’d know how to use them. Not so. 

“Oh hey, little bro!” Franky grins at him. “Good to see you up and about! Did you wanna help?”

“No,” Sanji snorts and takes the clothes out of the weird tiny robot hands coming out of Franky’s big robot hands. “I’ll do it all. Look at this, Franky, you’re washing Luffy’s red jacket with Robin’s white dress! It’ll go pink!” 

That’s basic laundry skills, but Franky looks stunned. “Really? I had no idea!” 

Sanji tuts and starts to sort the laundry. These men are neanderthals. How did they ever get by alone? Brook didn’t have much need to clean his clothes in his 50 years alone and Jinbe lived underwater a lot of the time. But the others didn’t have an excuse not to learn. 

Sanji, meanwhile, grew up in a floating restaurant where everyone pulled their weight and laundry was piled high at the end of every day, chef’s whites stained with various sauces and sweat. 

“Alright, if you’re sure,” Franky gives him a thumbs up. “Hey, since you’re feeling better, when you’re done with that, check our stocks and write a shopping list? We’re getting close to an island and nobody knows our food stocks like you!”

“I was going to do that anyway,” Sanji waves a hand. He was, because that’s his job. He’d have taken a break between tasks, though, and now he has to do that ‘when he’s done’ with the laundry. 

Franky leaves to go work on his next project. Sanji focuses on his task, sorting the laundry, putting it into the machines, adding the soap, turning the machines on, unloading the clothes that are done, hanging them out to dry. At one point when the machines are all on and he has to wait for them to be finished, he stumbles against the wall and slides down to sit. He hasn’t eaten lunch, Chopper might be looking for him. Sanji hopes Chopper will find him. Maybe he’ll tell Sanji to rest. 

When Sanji is hanging the last load of laundry out to dry, he spots Usopp setting up his fishing gear to one side. Usopp looks at him and raises his eyebrows. 

“Dude, are you sure you should be doing that? Your arms are shaking! Shouldn’t you be resting?” 

Sanji grits his teeth around his unlit cigarette. It’s both a blessing and a curse that the wording seems to matter so much. Usopp has technically only asked him questions, not given him a command. That’s one of the reasons why so far he’s avoided making piles of meat for Luffy. Luffy simply screaming ‘meat’ has no effect. Now he’s out of the infirmary, though, Luffy will start to get more directly demanding. Sanji hasn’t been cleared to cook yet but he’s already promised to make something for Nami. Without her asking to. He ought to stop making things worse for himself by offering to do things, but he can’t help it. He has to be useful. 



“It’s fine. I’m going to rest soon, I have to check our food stocks to make sure our shitty rubber didn’t eat it all, and I can sit down whilst doing that,” Sanji shrugs. Usopp frowns. 

“You’re back to doing that stuff already, huh. I hope you don’t get overworked. Did Nami put you up to doing the laundry? I only did like one hot wash!” Usopp whines. Sanji snorts and pegs up one of Chopper’s adorable little jackets. The sun is getting stronger, Sanji can feel it pricking the back of his neck. His pale North Blue genes mean he usually has to lather in sun cream if he wants to be out in this sort of weather, but he can’t stop to put any on. He can only hope he won’t burn. 

“Sure you did. Leave it to me. I don’t mind.” 

Usopp shakes his head. “If you’re sure. But she shouldn’t be bossing you around in your condition! It’s immoral! I, the great Captain Usopp, am a chores master! I dusted the library yesterday!” 

“Franky’s the one who asked me to do the stock take. I don’t trust anyone with that shit so it puts my mind at ease to do it myself.” 

“Franky too?!” Usopp casts his fishing rod and tilts his head back dramatically, as if appalled by Franky’s behaviour. “Terrible! Imagine asking you to do that! Clean the whole deck too, why don’t you?” 

Sanji’s hands freeze around the shirt he’s holding. Usopp is only joking. It’s just a joke. He doesn’t mean it. Sanji doesn’t have to-

He does. He can feel it in his weary bones. He’s going to have to clean the whole deck. The Sunny is a big fucking ship

There’s a somewhat awkward silence before Sanji’s body remembers to Try to A ct Normal.

“Get real,” he mutters, pegging the shirt up. “When am I going to have time for that?”

Usopp laughs and looks back out to sea. “Just don’t sleep! It’s simple!” 

Sanji freezes again. He forgets to breathe. This is a good thing, he tells himself. They’ll notice. His crew will definitely notice if he doesn’t sleep. Won’t they? He’s so tired. He’s so tired and it’s only lunch time, his brain is so full of things to do, he has to finish the laundry, he has to do the stock check, he has to write the shopping list, he has to cook something for Nami, he has to talk to her about Zoro, he has to wash the deck, he has to act normal, he has to stay awake, he has to say nothing about what happened, he has to bring L -

“You okay, Sanji?” Usopp is looking at him carefully, the same expression he gets when he’s analysing a target before he hits the bullseye. Sanji pushes himself up from the slouching position his body had taken, and pegs up the last shirt. 

“Never better,” he smiles, unconvincingly, and picks up the empty laundry basket. “I’ll be in the galley if you need me.”

Sanji puts the basket in the laundry room, ready for taking the dry clothes off later. He moves to the galley, takes a seat, and mechanically starts his stock take. 

It turns out, when he’s alone, he doesn’t have to Try to Act Normal. He discovers this only when his eyes blur, staring at the sacks of rice in the corner.



Sanji writes his shopping list with tears on his cheeks.

Chapter Text

Sanji finishes his stock check, writes his shopping list, and dries his tears. Crying won’t help the situation, and he has work to do. 

He slips his list into his pocket. By now, the laundry will be dry, so he has to go out and take it down. He has to sort it, iron it, fold it, and set it out for his crew mates to take. He can feel the sting of sunburn on the back of his neck. It’s almost reassuring to know he still can get sunburn, that his skin is still human enough for that. He’s still human enough for that. It’ll be healed by tomorrow, he can deal with a little pain until then. 

Only, when he gets back up on deck, the laundry is gone. A strange panic starts to build in Sanji’s chest, not unlike hundreds of bees wriggling in his stomach. 

“If you’re looking for the laundry, Robin took it in. She’s already ironed them and everything. Her power is useful for this sort of thing, huh?” Usopp says. He has a bucket of fish by now - it’s been a couple of hours. “She seemed kinda put out that you did it alone.”

The panic in Sanji’s chest crawls insidiously up his throat and into his head, little sparks of pain like fireworks popping off in different parts of his brain. All he can think about is the laundry. He’s the one who Needs To Do The Laundry. If he hasn’t done the laundry he has failed to follow the task set to him. He feels like his skull is too small for his brain, the pain growing and growing, his head is going to explode, a voice that sounds like Judge is buzzing around in there - failure, failure, punishment, punishment-

“Sanji, are you alright?” Robin’s voice sends another spike of pain through his head. He tries to blink away the pain, but it doesn’t budge. Robin is standing on the deck, holding some of her own clothes, ready to take them back to her room. He manages a shaky smile.

“My apologies, dear Robin. I have a bit of a headache.”

It’s an understatement. Her discerning eyes watch him closely. “I see. I would advise taking things slowly,” she comments. Sanji almost laughs. He can’t take her advice unless she commands him in a more straightforward way. Instead of bows to her and heads towards the galley. 

“I will,” he lies.

“Don’t worry about the laundry. Okay?” She calls after him. 

Sanji pauses in the galley doorway. The pain is still there, and a weird empty feeling now accompanies it. He’s not worried about the laundry, suddenly. But he should still have done it. He waves a hand to Robin and closes the galley door behind him.

In the darker space of the galley, his head pain begins to ease. He soothes himself by starting on the food he promised Nami. The routine motions lull him back into a sense of safety. This is also a necessary step to complete his next order, and that seems to help with the pain. Some orders are immediate, he’s found, and others can be put off for a little while before they become urgent. Maybe it’s about priority. He hasn’t figured out how this all works yet. 

As he’s plating up, the door opens and Nami comes in, taking a seat. 

“What is it? It smells lovely,” she compliments. He smiles at her, genuinely, and takes a seat across from her with both plates. He hasn’t been able to eat today with how busy he’s been, and his mouth is watering. 

“Cheese and kimchi croquettes with doenjang mayonnaise, and chocolate scones with a tangerine fool filling.”

He’s looking at the food fondly. He can’t help it. There was a moment, back in that cell, when he wondered if he would ever be able to create things like this again. He feels fulfilled. Proud. Nami picks one of the croquettes up and pops it into her mouth. She groans. 

“Ugh. I’ve missed your cooking so much. Seriously, everyone else’s attempts weren’t even close. Even with your recipe book.”

Sanji eats one himself. Flavour bursts on his tongue. Crispy on the outside, smooth on the inside, with an umami cheese flavour spiked with the complexity and tang of the kimchi. In his condition he can’t eat too many without risking throwing it all back up again, but he wants to eat them all so badly.

“I’m glad things are getting back to normal,” she adds. “Once you and Zoro sort things out, anyway.”

Normal. Things are anything but normal. He feels like the elephant in the room. The liar. The imposter. The traitor. The Zunesha-sized guilty party, and nobody knows it. 

“I’d rather do anything than talk with that mossheaded moron,” Sanji mutters. He sips at the tangerine juice he’s squeezed for the occasion. Nami sighs. Rolls her eyes. She reaches over and takes his hand, making his heart skip a beat. She’s so wonderful, to care about someone like him. 

“But you need to. It’s driving all of us crazy. Driving Zoro crazy. Driving you crazy. This rift between you…” she suddenly smirks, expression turning devious. “It’s because you’re in love, isn’t it?”

Sanji splutters at her forthrightness. Sure, he suspected that the crew knew something of that nature might be happening, but it’s embarrassing to have her spell it out like this. One of his wonderful ladies, who he spent so long lavishing praise on and fawning over. Not that he would have said yes if they had ever reciprocated. The ladies are so far out of his league, like he’s an ant staring up at the glittering universe and praising the stars for their shine. It would be an abomination against nature itself for the stars to descend from the heavens for a mere creature of the earth. 

For a ball of moss, though, maybe. Maybe that’d be okay, for the ant to look in that direction instead.

“I, ah, Nami, you… it’s not, I’m not…” Sanji can feel his face heating up. Nami laughs, though not unkindly. 

“Tell the truth,” she smiles coyly. “You’re gay, right?”

Tell the truth. 

“I’m bisexual,” Sanji blurts without meaning to. “And I love Zoro so much it hurts.”

Nami’s eyebrows rise, surprised by the honesty. “Oh?”

“I’m in love with him,” the truth blurts out of Sanji’s lips before he can even think to lasso it back. He doesn't want to share these things, but they're crawling up and out of his throat by themselves. “I’ve been in love with him for a long time and I could never tell him because I wasn’t even sure that was allowed, but someone helped me to realise that it was allowed, and that fucker is the hottest guy I’ve ever seen, he infuriates me, he riles me up, he challenges me in all the right ways, he’s funny, he makes me smile, he’s soft on the inside, kinder than anyone thinks, so stupid and so smart, I don’t deserve him but I love him, I love him, I-”

Sanji slaps a hand over his own mouth before anything even more mortifying can pour out. Nami has gone from looking surprised to looking concerned. She holds his other hand like she worries he might break. Even though his hand is larger, it looks fragile in hers. 

“Sanji… I didn’t realise this was affecting you so much. I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have been insensitive by prying.” 

“It’s-” Sanji’s throat closes up. It’s fine, he wants to say, but then he wouldn’t be telling the truth. It’s not fine. None of it is. “Don’t worry. I’m going to talk to him soon.” 

Not by choice. Sanji feels sick. Like Caesar has opened his chest all over again and is forcefully exposing his innards to Nami. He would never want to tell her things like this, things that are personal, things that would make her worry. 

Nami looks like she’s going to say something else, but then the door crashes open and Luffy marches in, probably attracted by the cooking smells.

“Sanji! Make me meat!” 

“Aye aye, captain.”

Sanji hauls himself up. Even if he's been forced into another order, he's beyond grateful to his captain for the distraction. 

“I might as well make dinner. I’m feeling-” he can’t say he’s feeling better. To his growing horror, he finds he can no longer lie. “-Not terrible.”

Luffy cheers. “Meat, meat, meat, meat!”

“Get out of my kitchen, you ravenous rubber!” Sanji snaps. He kicks Luffy out and starts to take meat out of the fridge. “Sorry, Nami, can we talk about this another time?”

“Oh… alright,” Nami looks put out at being dismissed, but she doesn’t argue. She leaves, probably to go and collect whatever bets she’s won by being right about Sanji and Zoro. "See you at dinner."

Sanji’s shoulders relax once he’s alone. When he notices, though, he tenses up again. Is that a sign that he’s… scared? Scared of his own crew? He can only relax when none of them are here, when there’s no chance one of them can inadvertently hurt him. It reminds him of his childhood, when he could only be happy knowing his brothers weren’t there. 

Sanji focuses on dinner, shoulders tense, mind busy.

Sanji can’t hold off on cleaning the deck. The pain in his head is starting to build, and he knows it’s because he hasn’t cleaned it yet. 

It’s late. Midnight, or thereabouts. He’d gone to bed and stared up at the ceiling, trying to find patterns in the Adam Wood. He wonders what will happen when his body reaches its limit. He can’t stay awake forever, though the human body can do remarkable things.

Not that he’s fully human anymore.

He hauls himself out of bed and fills a bucket with water, another with soap, and grabs a mop. It’s a large deck, but some of it is grass and flowers. Maybe it won’t take too long. Sanji’s already tired, though, his limbs shaking. He feels like there are weights on his limbs, pulling him down, making every movement a slog that takes far more effort than it should.

He gets up on deck. It’s quiet and dark. He knows Zoro is on watch. He’s glad it’s Zoro. If it had been Nami, or Brook, or Franky, they might not have noticed Sanji. But Zoro is like a guard dog, spreading his haki around like a beast sniffing for prey. If something is out of place, he’ll notice. Especially these days. Since Sanji got back, Zoro has been much more vigilant than usual. Is he worried Germa will try again? Feeling guilty that it happened in the first place? Sanji’s not going to pretend he understands the workings of a mossball’s mind. 

The problem comes with Zoro understanding something is wrong. Sanji starts to mop, methodically cleaning. His shoulders ache. He lets himself fall into a rhythm. The pain in his head soothes as the pain in the rest of his body gets worse. He can feel Zoro’s haki watching him. If Zoro asks what’s wrong, will Sanji be able to tell him now? Now that he has to tell the truth? Sanji’s heart races. This has to be it, right?

Not that Sanji is thrilled at the concept of being unable to lie. Half the stuff that comes out of his mouth is untruthful. He’s terrified he’ll let something slip that nobody needs to know. He can feel the jaws closing further around his neck.

For an hour, Zoro doesn’t do anything about it. He watches. He waits. Maybe he thinks there’s no way Sanji could really be cleaning the whole deck at one in the morning. 

Zoro doesn’t come back from the crow’s nest until Sanji starts cleaning the railings. Sanji pauses to watch him climb down. 

“The hell are you doing?” Zoro asks gruffly. His hair is all tousled up and Sanji tries not to imagine running his hands through it. 

“What does it look like, dumbass? I’m cleaning,” Sanji replies, running a cloth over the railing to demonstrate. 

“You know what I mean, Curly. Why?” Zoro retorts. He doesn’t look mad, just confused. Not an unusual expression for someone with plant life for a brain. 

“I couldn’t sleep. Knew this would tire me out.” It’s not a lie. He can’t sleep. He knows this will exhaust him. Sanji is internally begging Zoro to dig deeper, ask more questions. The stars overhead twinkle cheerfully down on them, and Sanji curses them for not matching his internal turmoil. It should be cloudy. It should be raining. 

“Did you have a nightmare?” Zoro asks. Sanji’s nightmares are notorious among the men in the crew. Nobody ever talks about it, but they’ve all been woken up by his mutterings and whimpers more than once. Sometimes Sanji will wake up with Luffy or Chopper snuggled in next to him. He hates to admit it, but he does dream better with Luffy’s rubbery arms wrapped around him or Chopper’s warm fluff snuggled into his side. 

“Nah. Not this time,” Sanji sighs and looks out to sea. The ocean is dark, and the waves lap gently against the boat. It’s a quiet night. He tries to get back to scrubbing, his hands are already sore but he has to. Zoro’s hand closes around his wrist with surprising gentleness. 

“Oy, lemme go, asshole,” Sanji grunts, trying to pull away. He doesn’t want to pull away, but he has to keep cleaning. 

“Stop.”

Sanji immediately freezes. He has stopped. Now what? Zoro frowns, searching Sanji’s face for… something. He can’t figure it out, so he sighs. 

“Whatever, cook. Go to bed. Chopper didn’t fix you up for you to undo all that hard work because your brain is doing weird things.”

Sanji’s shoulders sag with relief. “Sure. Whatever you say.”

Sanji goes to move past Zoro. Zoro catches Sanji’s shoulder and holds him in place. He almost looks desperate. 

“You’re acting weird. You’ve never listened to me like this before, I don’t like it. What happened back there, cook? What did they do to you?”

Sanji meets Zoro’s gaze. Grey steel and cold blue. Sanji opens his mouth but finds he still can’t tell Zoro, despite needing to be truthful. Judge’s orders must come before all others. That bastard. 

Sanji reaches up and takes Zoro’s hand off his shoulder. He holds it tight. Holds it desperately. His expression is serious, whilst Zoro is looking more confused by the minute. 

“Zoro,” Sanji says, putting as much emphasis into his words as the curse will allow. “Nothing happened.”

He manages to hold Zoro’s gaze for a few more seconds before he retreats, forced to head down to bed. He climbs into his bunk and lies there, shaking, and takes some deep breaths. Zoro is getting increasingly suspicious, he has to be close to figuring something out. Sanji's wording was deliberate. Those two words hold special meaning for Zoro and Sanji. Nothing happened means some fucked up shit happened, and Zoro knows it.

Zoro told him to go to bed. He didn’t tell him to sleep. So he doesn't, because Usopp has ordered him not to.

He spends a restless night under the covers, hoping Zoro will see the metaphorical slave collar around his neck. 

Sanji tries a few things the next morning. He can’t wait around for the crew to figure it out, he has to try to get himself out of this too. He’s getting desperate. The end of the week is approaching - which means the awful conversation with Zoro is approaching, too. As is the end of the month, his deadline. Emphasis on the ‘dead’ part. Time is running out. 

He stands in front of the mirror in the bathroom. 

“Lift your right hand,” he tells his reflection. Nothing happens. He grits his teeth. Fuck. It’s okay though. He still has things he can try. It’ll be fine. 

In the galley, before he starts on breakfast, he takes out his notebook. He tries to write. 

I’m making ribs for dinner. That comes out fine. But when he tries to write Judge experimented on me and now I have to do everything people say and it's super fucked up, nothing happens. The pen scribbles nonsense, not even words. Like a toddler trying to imitate what writing looks like. 

Fuck.

And even alone, with nobody to listen, he can’t vocalise what’s wrong. He can’t say it, sing it, or whisper it. 

He tries to bake bread in the shape of letters that would spell out H-E-L-P. He forms the H, but then his hands - without permission - ball up the dough into a normal loaf. He stares at it and feels completely out of control. His hands, his prize tools, will not listen to him. Judge owns them like he owns the rest of Sanji. 

At breakfast, Sanji makes Luffy way more meat than usual. Luffy keeps asking. No, demanding. Sanji bitches and says no even as his hands deftly work to fry up more bacon. By the time Luffy is satisfied and the crew have shuffled out, their food stocks are dangerously low. Sanji starts to fret, but his anxiety is soothed when Franky announces he sees land. 

The crew gathers on deck, watching the island get closer and closer. Sanji lights a cigarette and holds it loosely. Second hand smoke is still better than nothing. He’s worried. His crew is one thing, but the general public is another. They could say anything. There could be other pirates, or marines. If someone tells him to give himself up, will he do it with no resistance? He’s going to cause his crew more problems. 

“Is there much shopping to be done?” Robin asks. Sanji startles. He hadn’t heard her approach. 

“Yeah. Our black hole of a captain has left us low on everything, Robin dear,” Sanji nods. She hums. 

“You were rather generous with him at breakfast. Allow me to accompany you, I can be of use,” Robin suggests. Normally he would decline, a lovely lady like her shouldn’t have to do such hard work. But it’s an order. 

“You’re welcome to join me. The mosshead’s going to be the one carrying the heavy shit though.”

“Eh?” Zoro opens an eye (the only one that he has) from where he’s sat napping against the mast. 

“You heard me, I need a pack mule. Up and at ‘em.” Sanji kicks Zoro in the thigh, leading to a satisfying grunt. 

“Fine, since you can’t carry it all yourself,” Zoro baits, getting to his feet. 

“The fuck do you mean by that? I can carry ten times more than you, dumbass!” Sanji gripes back. It’s familiar, this banter. It feels safe, though he knows it isn’t. Not when Zoro could say anything. Before Zoro can reply, Robin’s disembodied arms are handing the shopping cart over to Zoro. She’s smiling knowingly. 

“Thank you for your help, Zoro.” 

Zoro grumbles. He can’t really argue with Robin. It would be like arguing with your mother. She’s always a step ahead. 

Once they’re docked at the island, Sanji heads down with his shopping list, Zoro, Robin, and the cart. Ahead of him is a busy market town. There’s a market square up ahead, with various stalls selling everything from salt and spices to huge hunks of meat and massive fish. The townsfolk pay the new arrivals little attention, busy with bartering, gossiping, counting their berri, living their lives. Sanji can smell the spices and the fresh fish, and he’s already eyeing some delicious looking crabs.


He stands before the vast crowd, takes a deep breath, and heads in. 

Chapter Text

Sanji is well aware of Robin’s stare as he begins the supply run. She’s easily the smartest person on the crew, and it looks like she’s suspicious of what’s going on. Good. Maybe there will be some simple, harmless instructions, and she’ll realise what’s happening and save the crew from him. Sanji’s hope is still there. Like a flickering candle, willing itself to stay alive through the storm. 

The first few stops at the market go off without a hitch. Most bargaining isn’t so direct.

“500 berry.”

“How about 700?”

“550.”

“650?”

“575 and not a berry over, old man. I know what these spices are worth!”

A grumble, a concession, and Sanji walks away with some good spices and a good deal. 

It’s not until the third stall, where he’s looking to buy some rice, that things start to go predictably awry. Sanji inspects the rice. They’re in hefty bags, easily 10kg each. It’s long grain rice, no good for onigiri or sushi but great to accompany a curry, or a stir fry, or even to make pilaf. The stall has both white and brown rice, he’d rather buy both - each has their uses, and brown rice is more nutritious. Zoro could use the extra potassium. Potassium helps to balance fluid levels in the body, and god knows Zoro could use that with how sweaty he is. Neanderthal. 

“Excuse me, mademoiselle,” Sanji catches the attention of the plump, middle aged woman manning the stall. “Could I get two bags of the white rice and two bags of the brown rice from your lovely self please?” 

“No problem, honey,” she smiles back at him and hefts another bag onto the stall from the pile behind her. She surprisingly strong for such a small woman. “Give me 15,000 berry for it?” 

Sanji would normally have started the bartering process, and it looks like that’s what the woman is expecting. 15,000 berry is a high price for what he’s buying. 10,000-12,000 berry would be the range Sanji would usually barter that down to. 

But she ordered him to give her 15,000. So 15,000 it is. 

With Zoro and Robin watching from behind him, Sanji hands over the money to the surprised (and slightly pitying) rice seller. He picks up the bags and puts them in the cart, fighting off a sudden spell of dizziness. How long has it been since he slept? He avoids looking at his crewmates and heads to the next stall. 

It’s the same story at the stall selling asparagus. And the stall selling flour. He gets to barter for the other vegetables and some lovely looking apples, but by the time he gets around to the crabs, he’s running low on berry. Nami is going to kill him. Seagulls circle overhead and call out to each other. It feels like they’re laughing at him.

Sanji inspects the crabs. They’re large, fresh. Still alive, their claws bound. Sanji’ll put them in the aquarium, let them live a happy life until they end up in Luffy’s stomach. 

“How much for seven crabs? The big ones.”

“They’re 4000 berry each, so 28,000,” the old fisherman replies. 

“I’ll give you 24,000 for them.”

“27,000.”

“25,000.”

“26,500.”

“26,000, if you throw some of that squid in too.”

The fisherman laughs, the lines crumpling on his sea-weathered face. There’s something about him, Sanji thinks, that reminds him of Zeff. “Forget about it, I’ll only do that if you offer 27,000.”

So Sanji forgets about it.

Where is he?

What was he doing?

His brain is blank. He remembers buying apples, and then nothing. When did he get in front of the crab stall? He stares at the fisherman, completely lost. He’s older, Sanji notes. There’s something about him that makes him think of Zeff, and he feels a pang of homesickness.

Did he think that already?

“So?” The man looks impatient. “27,000, how about it?”

Sanji doesn’t know how many crabs that gets him. Is that a good deal? Or not? Internally he starts to feel panicked, not knowing what’s expected of him or what’s going on. Fuck. Fuck fuck fu-

“That would be great, thank you,” Robin comes to his rescue, paying for him and using her powers to spawn several arms to pack seven large crabs and two squid. The crabs are still alive, Sanji notes. He’ll put them in the aquarium, let them live a happy life until they end up in Luffy’s stomach.

He’s got a weird feeling of deja vu. 

“Are you alright, Sanji? You froze for a moment there,” Robin asks. Zoro is watching closely, eye narrowed and hands gripping the handles of the cart. He looks on edge, like he usually does before a fight breaks out. 

“I’m not feeling great, Robin dear,” Sanji admits, unable to lie. “We only have the cheese still to buy, then we can head back.”

“Alright. If you’re sure,” Robin hums. Sanji hurries to the cheese, wanting to get this whole thing over with.  What was all that? Why did he lose time? Is it the lack of sleep, or did someone say something? It’s unnerving not to know. 

He reaches the cheese stand. He hasn’t got much money left, but he’ll buy what he can. If they run out of food before the next island, it’ll be Sanji’s stupid fault. It won’t be a problem. He’s already calculating it in his head, he can eat less to compensate. 

The woman at the stall is beautiful, dark skinned with her hair in cornrows and a smattering of freckles on her cheeks under her big, dark eyes. 

“Mademoiselle,” Sanji bows to her and she giggles. Sanji can practically feel Zoro rolling his eyes (or, eye) behind him. “What wonderful looking cheese. May I?” He gestures to the bowls of samples on the stall. 

“Go ahead,” the woman smiles. Sanji takes his time sampling each cheese. The cheddar isn’t as mature as he hoped, but the mozzarella has a wonderful texture and should melt well. He’ll get some of the cheddar anyway - Chopper prefers it on the milder side, and he can pair it well with fruit. 

“Can I have 2kg of the cheddar and 2kg of the mozzarella, please?”

“‘Course,” she starts to bag it up. “10,000 berry?”

“Mademoiselle, that price is outrageous,” he smiles charmingly. It’s probably not as effective with both of his dumb eyebrows showing. “How about 6000?”

The woman laughs. “Alright, 9000.”

“7000, perhaps?”

“8500?”

“8200,” Sanji chuckles. “I know you know that’s a good price, my darling.”

He’s laying the flirty tone on a bit thick, but he has to Try to Act Normal. And she deserves to feel flattered, she’s a lovely lady. 

“Okay, okay,” she concedes. Her voice is a bit flustered. “8200 it is.”

Sanji hands the money over. Good thing he could barter her down, he doesn’t have much more than that. His heart sinks when he thinks about how annoyed Nami will be with him. He’s usually so careful with her money. He knows how much it means to her to be able to budget, and the food shop is easily their biggest spend.

“Don’t worry, mademoiselle,” he says smoothly, “you’ve stolen my heart as part of the deal.”

The woman giggles and hides her face after handing him the cheese. “Oh, shut up!”

So Sanji does. 

He tries to open his mouth to bid her a good day, but nothing comes out. He flashes her a nervous smile instead and puts the cheese in the cart. He tries to tell Zoro and Robin that they’re done and they can head back to the Sunny, but he’s unable to make any sound at all. He takes a deep breath. Okay. So now he can’t say anything. Ouch.

When he was young and trapped in the dungeon, when he still hoped there was some humanity left in his family, he would spend hours begging to be let out. No guards to hear him, nobody there. Asking the void for help. Now, it’s the other way around. Zoro and Robin are right here. Ready to listen, wanting to free him - if they knew. But he can’t ask them. 

In his mind’s eye, he’s screaming, begging to be let out of his own head. He’s sick of this. He’s done. He’s going insane. He can’t do this much longer. 

Hands in his pockets, he leads the way back to the Sunny in silence. 

Robin taps Zoro’s shoulder as soon as Sanji disappears into the galley to put the shopping away. The cook was unusually quiet on the way back, not even complimenting Nami who they passed on the gangplank. It’s weird. It’s wrong. Zoro has been sharing looks with Robin all day. She’s realised something is wrong too, and the weirdness at the market has only confirmed it. Sanji not bartering, losing track of what he was doing, going quiet. It’s out of character. Zoro is worried, and he’s not bothering to hide it. 

“Do you know what’s going on?” Zoro asks as soon as they’re alone in the library. Robin sits at her desk with a quiet sigh and closes the door behind Zoro with a disembodied hand. Light streams in from the many windows. It highlights the dust in the air, floating around lazily without a care in the world. Zoro does not sit. He’s too energised, whole body tense.

“Not exactly,” she admits. She laces her fingers together, concern written across her face. “But I have a theory. I need time to do some research before I know for sure.”

“He’s in trouble, isn’t he?” Zoro asks. They saved Sanji. That should have been the end of it. Sanji being in danger still, or being a danger to himself, makes Zoro’s spine tingle uncomfortably. The Sunny is the one place where they should all be safe, and it’s starting to look like Sanji isn’t. 

“We might all be.” Robin’s voice is deadly serious. It puts Zoro on edge. What does she mean by that? The whole crew is in danger? Zoro clenches his hands. Those fucking Germa bastards. They did something. Zoro is sure of it. Nothing happened. Sanji's a sly motherfucker.

Robin gets a book from one of the shelves with a sprouted hand, and brings it over to herself using a chain of arms. Zoro snags a look at the title. It’s about the structure of the brain, or something. 

“I will work as fast as I can. In the meantime, it’s important that you are careful what you say to him. That seems to be having an effect. I will present my findings to Chopper this evening, and see if he has a solution, as long as I’m right.”

“Careful what I say, huh…” Zoro grunts. He can put off their talk about Whole Cake Island for a little longer, then. The deadline was tomorrow, but he’ll tell Sanji they can do it after Sanji is normal again. There’s no point in having a conversation if Sanji is out of his mind.

“I’ll be careful,” Zoro agrees. He glances at the book. Something’s wrong with Sanji’s brain? Sanji not being Sanji anymore, Zoro can’t imagine it. Zoro loves him as he is, swirls and all. 

Zoro climbs the crow’s nest after leaving the library, and picks up his heaviest weights. He’ll keep an eye on the cook with his haki. Nothing dangerous could happen on the ship, but it pays to be cautious. 

Usopp knows something is up. 

There’s one advantage to having anxiety - he’s always prepared (as much as he can be when Luffy is always throwing them into situations) and he’s extremely observant. Even before he unlocked his haki. When there’s a part of him that expects danger around every corner, he tends to notice when something is off. 

Sanji is off. 

It’s not just the mental health issues you would expect to see when someone gets kidnapped by their evil mad scientist warmongering assassin royal family. Actually, Usopp hasn’t seen much of that from Sanji. For the most part he’s too normal. Especially after he just woke up. Like he’s acting, or has a mask on. Usopp knows better than anyone what that feels like. 

He also knows when someone is lying. Takes one to know one. And Sanji has been lying. Saying he’s fine, saying nothing happened with Germa, saying he doesn’t mind making more and more meat for their captain. When has he ever not complained about that?

Liar, liar, pants on fire. Or should it be leg on fire, since it’s Sanji?

Usopp decides to go and see Sanji once the cook has put the shopping away. Sanji is his friend. One of his best friends. They might not mess around together as much as Usopp does with Luffy and Chopper, but Sanji has helped him through a lot. They sometimes spend a quiet evening together, with Usopp tinkering on an invention at the table whilst Sanji preps food for the next day. Usopp is worried about his friend, so he’s going to get to the bottom of this. He’ll be the best friend anyone on the high seas has ever had!

He wanders into the galley, trying to make it look casual and totally not like an intervention. When he enters, he sees Sanji straighten immediately from where he had been slumped against the counter. Usopp might not have noticed if he wasn’t so observant. Lunch is almost done, there are sandwiches laid out on the table along with some kind of salad with crab meat and squid. 

Sanji looks back at him and raises one curly eyebrow in question. 

“I wanted to see if lunch was ready!” Usopp reels off his prepared and totally believable lie. “Luffy will be back soon, there’s nothing exciting about this island. Unless you found anything thrilling during your exhilarating shopping trip?”

Sanji snorts softly and shakes his head, going back to blending hummus. Usopp’s joking smile slides off his face. The room is quiet. Too quiet. 

Sanji hasn’t said a word. 

“You okay, man?” Usopp stares at Sanji. Silence. Sanji dishes up the hummus and brings it over to the table, giving Usopp a good look at his face. 

Sanji looks like shit. 

He has dark bags under his eyes, so dark they could be bruises. His hair is limp, though growing back fast, and the usual golden colour looks more like diseased straw left out in the sun too long. His face is pale and has a grey tint to it that Usopp does not like the look of. His eyes are unfocused, like he’s not quite all there. 

“Hey,” Usopp gets up. “Say something, you’re scaring me!”

“Sorry,” Sanji blurts immediately. He breathes out, and some of the tension goes out of his shoulders. “Sorry, I’m tired. Haven’t been sleeping. Don’t worry.”

Usopp is so worrying. 

There’s a brief moment of silence where the two men stare at each other. Usopp wishes he were smarter, like Robin, so he could figure this stuff out. Maybe she’s already doing that, though. What was it Sanji said to him a couple years ago? Everyone has things they can and cannot do. I'll do what you can't do, and you do what I can't do.

Usopp hopes he can be of use. Let Sanji know he’s loved. He can do that, at least. 

“You know you can talk to me, right?” Usopp says. “I’m the best listener on the Grand Line!”

Sanji smiles at him. Tired, sardonic, maybe a little crazy. Like he wants to laugh. But not in a ha ha funny way. More like in a if I don’t laugh I’ll cry way. 

“Yeah. I know, Usopp. Go call the other shitheads and the ladies, will you? Lunch is ready.”

Usopp crosses his arms stubbornly. “Not until you tell me what’s wrong.”

Sanji grumbles. He opens his mouth, like he really wants to say something. But it’s like whatever he wants to say is getting stuck in his throat. His shoulders tense, and then slump.

“Just do it, idiot,” he mutters instead with none of his usual fire. Usopp swallows. He’s not sure why, but his danger senses are tingling. They’re on the Sunny, they couldn’t be safer, but Usopp innately knows there’s danger around. He prods around with his haki for a moment, but there’s nobody on the ship except their crewmates. No stowaways, invaders or invisible people. 

Sanji stares back at him. Tired. Unwavering. Usopp goes over to the door. “I’ll call them, but I’m not gonna stop asking. You can’t fool me.” 

He calls the others in for lunch. They file in, one by one. Nami is one of the last in, and Sanji heads over to hand her a handful of loose change and a couple of notes. It’s not much. 

“Sanji, what the hell?” Nami counts the money, an increasingly pissed off look taking over her face. “This is hardly anything!”

“I’m so sorry, mellorine,” Sanji gushes, falling over himself to apologise. “They-”

Here, Sanji pauses, chokes, like what he was about to say gets stuck in his throat again. “...I struggled with the bartering today. My deepest apologies.”

Nami huffs and pockets the money. “I’ll let you off since you’re clearly not feeling well. Don’t let it happen again!”

Sanji looks like he’s swallowed nails. “Of course, Nami dear.”

Usopp looks around the table. Robin is watching the exchange carefully, like she’s trying to translate a book in a complex foreign language. Chopper looks like he’s two seconds away from whisking Sanji to the infirmary. Zoro has his arms crossed, eye narrowed at Nami. 

“Give him a break, witch. It’s not like he spent our whole treasure pot.”

Everyone pauses in their eating to stare at Zoro. Did he just… defend Sanji? Usopp glances around, but it doesn’t look like the world is crumbling around him, signifying the end of the world. He pinches himself - no, not a dream, either. None look more surprised than Sanji himself, who (after a moment of shock) puts out his lit cigarette and kicks Zoro lightly in the head. 

“I don’t need you to defend me, asshole,” he says. His tone is almost fond. Is he blushing? Usopp checks his drink to make sure it hasn’t been spiked. “And don’t call Nami a witch!”

It’s a more low key berating than usual. Usopp knows (they all know, even Jinbe) there’s something going on between Sanji and Zoro. But this is the first time Usopp has seen real signs of affection. Sanji must be feeling terrible if he’s letting his guard down like this. Zoro, for his part, looks smug. Like a performing peacock getting a nod of approval from a peahen. 

Lunch is mostly the same as usual. Chopper fusses over Sanji, asking him questions that the cook dodges expertly. In the end Chopper loses his temper and insists Sanji come to the infirmary later. Sanji reluctantly agrees, and there’s another Look shared between Robin and Zoro. Usopp feels out of the loop, but also reassured that he’s not the only one who knows something’s up. If anyone can figure it out, it’s Robin. Usopp still wishes he could do more. 

“Oy, mosshead,” Sanji says as they all rise to leave after the food’s gone. “Help me clear up. It’s the least you can do for badmouthing Nami in my presence.”

Zoro shrugs and picks up some empty plates. As Usopp leaves and the door closes slowly behind him, he can just about hear Sanji muttering to Zoro. 

“...Alright. Let’s get this talk over with.”

Chapter Text

Sanji has run out of time.

He can feel it thrumming steadily through his bones. A pulse of compulsion, the need, the urge. The impatient spectre of The Talk is here, and demands he fulfil his obligations. So, because he doesn’t have a choice, he tells Zoro to wait behind after lunch. Sanji puts a bottle of good wine on the table for when this inevitably goes to shit. He can’t chain smoke right now, so he’ll take a leaf out of Zoro’s book and drink himself to oblivion.

They start on the dishes together. Sanji’s shaky hands wash each dish and plate and then pass them off for Zoro to dry. For several moments, the silence is comforting. And then, to Sanji alone, becomes stifling. He can’t stop it. The words crawl up his throat like insidious insects. 

“Germa is a warmongering country. A country of advanced war technology, assassins for hire. The Vinsmokes are its royal family. They conquered the North Blue long ago but lost it all, and now they have no land,” Sanji figures the beginning is a good place to start. “My biological father is Judge Vinsmoke, the king. My mother was the queen. Because Germa had lost all their land, the shitty king decided to turn his own children into the ultimate weapons he needed to conquer the North Blue. Through science.”

He risks a sidelong glance at Zoro. The mosshead is staring at the plate in his hands with an incredible intensity. If he grips it any tighter, it’s going to crack. 

“We don’t have to talk about this now,” Zoro mutters. Sanji snorts tiredly. 

“Yeah, shithead, we do. Shut up and listen.”

Zoro, for once, does as Sanji asks. 

“Judge modified his children in the womb. Our… bloodline elements. My mother didn’t want that. She knew the modifications would remove her children’s emotions and make them strong and obedient, that wasn’t what she wanted for us. She took a poison to stop it happening. It only worked on me. She died because of it. Because of me. For me. Not a fair fucking trade.” 

Sanji doesn’t want to tell Zoro that. He’s not ready to think about how he feels about his mother, her sacrifice. His heart bangs guiltily against his ribs. Bump, bump, bump. Proof he’s alive. Proof she isn’t. She lives only in his cells, half of him, his blue eyes when he looks in the mirror, the way his hair is wavy when wet. His smile. 

He hasn’t been smiling much lately.

“My siblings and I went through rigorous training,” Sanji quickly goes on when it looks like Zoro wants to interrupt. “But I could never keep up. My brothers run on base instincts. Like animals. When they see weakness, they turn on it. Like sharks. And the scientists wanted to know if they could fix me, so they ran test after test.” 

Sanji picks up the last plate. Zoro said to tell him everything. So he does. Everything he can remember. Every snide comment. Every beating. Every experiment, blood draw, surgery. His mother’s death. He keeps scrubbing the last plate, over and over, as if passing it off to Zoro will mean giving Zoro something he’s not ready to give. Sanji is telling Zoro everything. He has to keep something back. Something to himself. 

Sanji sees nothing but his own tired face reflected in the clean white surface of the plate. 

“On the 17th of August, my father caught me cooking. He threw my food out of the window, and then my brothers-”

“That’s enough,” Zoro scowls. “Just - skip to the next part. Where something changes.” He looks angry. Not, Sanji thinks, at him. Sanji clears his throat, searching for the words he can use. His death, then. 

“Judge faked my death on the 20th of September. He organised a funeral,” Sanji stares at the bubbles, mind in another place. His shoulders are shaking with the weight of his memories. “He threw me in the dungeon, with an iron mask over my head so nobody would recognise me. I was his greatest shame. He couldn’t bear to kill me, but I was embarrassing him. My existence was pointless. I was weak, useless. I still feel that way. I’ll never match up to you, Zoro.”

Sanji physically bites his tongue. Stop being so fucking honest. This is mortifying. Change the subject. Dungeon, talk about that. 

“It was so dark down there. Cold. There were spiders…” 

Sanji trails off. He’s startled when Zoro turns him and grabs his arms. 

“That’s bullshit, you hear me?!”

Sanji swallows thickly. Zoro is a man of conviction, but he’s never sounded so sure of himself as he does now. 

“Bullshit,” Zoro repeats, for emphasis. “You’ve never been weak. Or useless. You’re one of the wings of the future pirate king. My equal. If I ever hear anyone say otherwise, I’ll fucking kill them. Even you, curly. You don’t get a pass. Stop talking shit about the man I love, or I’ll cut you.”

Sanji scoffs quietly. Zoro is so fucking stupid. And yet, he feels better. Idiot romantic. It’s the worst love confession ever, but despite the terrible situation, Sanji feels his face heating up. 

“I’d like to see you try,” he huffs fondly. “And I love you too.”

There’s a brief moment of respite. Lunch was late and this is a winter island, so the sun is already starting to set. The galley is awash with beautiful orange hues, which don’t quite do enough to hide the blush on Zoro’s cheeks. 

The moment is ruined when the impatient shadows of command grip Sanji’s throat with fingers of steel. The sweet words he had in mind die on his lips, and something else comes out instead.

“My shitty siblings didn’t know I was in the dungeon at first, they thought I was dead. Then they found me. My brothers-”

“Cook, what-”

“-When they found me, they thought it was a great stress relief opportunity. So the beatings-”

“I’m telling you this isn’t necessary right now!” Zoro looks almost desperate, and he holds Sanji’s arms tighter. “You’re not fucking listening!”

“You’re the one who isn’t listening, dumbass!” Sanji snaps back. “I’m trying to do as you asked. Old sins cast long shadows, Zoro. There’s a lot to get through.”

“You’re not in a good place right now. I know something’s up. Robin’s working on it right now. We can do this later. Now is not the time.”

“I wish I could agree.” 

There’s a brief silence. It’s a relief to know that Robin is working to figure this out. If anyone can do it, she can. Zoro is still holding Sanji’s arms. Sanji hopes that keeps happening, it feels safe, but words bubble up, up, up-

“I escaped in the East Blue. My sister-”

“Stop!” Zoro’s face is a picture of desperation, fear, this isn’t a natural conversation and Zoro knows it. Sanji stops. Doesn’t talk. Doesn’t move. Doesn’t breathe. He Stops. Zoro searches his face, then nods at the bottle of wine forgotten on the table. 

“Drown your sorrows for tonight, let’s come back to this when Robin and Chopper have figured out what the hell is wrong with you.”

For a moment, Sanji is relieved. He can breathe again. He’ll have some wine, maybe cry a bit, and Robin and Chopper will work things out. It’s all fine. 

So why are his legs leading him outside?

He walks past the others, ignores curious questions, pointed looks, Jinbe’s offer of a large fish he just caught. His feet tap against the deck, tap, tap, tap, leading him to the side of the ship. 

He climbs up to stand on the railing. The ocean here is shallow, and he can see a small school of baby fish darting here and there under the waves, looking for scraps from the moored boats. Little shadows, chasing a dream in a wide open sea. 

“Sanji? What are you doing?”

“Bro? You good?”

“S-Sanji?”

Sanji glances back and looks at Zoro. He’s scared. This won’t kill him, and he knows that’s the only reason he can do it. Judge’s orders come above all others. Don’t die feels like it’s burnt into his flesh. But still. He’s scared. 

Sanji does not take a breath. He dives straight into the sea, inhales as much water as he can, hits his head on a rock, and blacks out. 

When Sanji looks in the mirror these days, he feels sad. He hates his reflection. He hates knowing his mother died for this. He knows he’s not enough, he’ll never be enough, and he hates it. On the surface, he knows he’s one of the strongest on the crew, he knows they love him. Deeper down, where he’ll never admit it, he feels expendable. He has to be better, so the others will want him around. He has to prove himself, and he hates it. 

He hates his brain, for being the source of his current predicaments. For being the thing putting the crew in danger. He is a danger to the crew, and he feels angry and hateful and sad towards himself. 

So if he’s going to drown his sorrows, he must start with himself. 

Zoro grows increasingly angry, increasingly guilty, and increasingly horrified as Sanji starts to talk. He knew it was bad. But this is far beyond Zoro’s limited imagination. The shadows and ghouls that Zoro’s brain had supplied in place of Sanji’s family are now taking solid form, real people, real monsters who had beat Sanji (a child ) down mentally and physically for years. And then had the fucking audacity to take him back again, dress him up like the prince he never wanted to be, to sacrifice him at the wedding altar. 

Zoro isn’t just angry. He’s quietly murderous, fingers gripping the plates tight. If he ever sees Judge Vinsmoke or those evil fucking brothers in person, he’s going to kill them. But as Sanji continues to talk, Zoro’s skin starts to prickle. Sanji’s tone is off. Like someone has a gun to his head, the words leak out from gritted teeth. The detail the cook is going into is unnatural. Weird. There’s only so many times Sanji needs to detail how his brothers beat him up, or the things Judge would say, or the experiments he was put through. Zoro doesn’t need to hear all this.

“That’s enough. Just - skip to the next part. Where something changes.”

So Sanji talks about a little boy dead to the world, masked to hide his identity, thrown in a dungeon to be forgotten. 

“...My existence was pointless. I was weak, useless. I still feel that way. I’ll never match up to you, Zoro.”

Zoro clenches the towel in his hands. Takes a sharp breath in. It’s like a physical blow to the chest. Sanji still feels the way the Vinsmokes told him to feel. It’s so far from the truth. The lies are so deeply ingrained into Sanji, they’re a part of him. And Zoro is incensed. 

He grabs Sanji, turning him to look him in the eye. He needs Sanji to believe him. “That’s bullshit, you hear me?!”

Sanji is startled. Zoro’s not going to let this go. So he’s going to be honest. “Bullshit. You’ve never been weak. Or useless. You’re one of the wings of the future pirate king. My equal. If I ever hear anyone say otherwise, I’ll fucking kill them. Even you, curly. You don’t get a pass. Stop talking shit about the man I love, or I’ll cut you.”

It’s not the most romantic of confessions. But Zoro’s not a romantic, he’s a pragmatist. It’s true, and it’s what Sanji needs to hear, so he’s going to say it. Simple. A delightful blush crawls up Sanji’s pale cheeks. 

“I’d like to see you try. And I love you too.”

Zoro can feel his face heating up. Oh, is that his heart? He’s never had it flutter like that before. Sanji loves him. He loves Sanji. Oh fuck. 

The moment is ruined when Sanji suddenly starts talking about that damn dungeon again. Zoro tries to stop him, tries to interrupt, but he keeps going. Zoro feels his control slipping out between his fingers. This is to do with Sanji being weird lately. Whatever Robin is looking into. The cook’s brain. Is he not even in control of what he’s saying? Even saying ‘I love you’? Zoro, usually so cool headed, feels an unfamiliar tidal wave of panic rise in his chest. 

“Stop!” Zoro eventually snaps. They’re not doing this now. At this point, Zoro can barely remember why he wanted to talk about all this shit in the first place. He’s starting to realise the person he was really angry at was himself, not the cook. He failed to do his job, to protect the crew. He hadn’t been there on Zou. And he hadn’t been approachable enough for Sanji to confide in him about his past, either before everything went to shit or afterwards. 

The anger is gone. He just wants Sanji to be okay. So he ends the conversation, tells Sanji to get drunk instead. They can have the rest of this conversation some other day.

Sanji’s shoulders slump. A beat of silence, then the cook turns on his heel and walks out. Alarm bells ringing, Zoro follows. Sanji is walking past the rest of the crew, ignoring their questions and stares. Robin and Chopper are talking in hushed tones in the garden area, but they stop and stare as Sanji goes past. 

Sanji climbs up onto the railing. For a moment he stands there, bathed in the light of the dying sun, illuminated in burnt orange and brilliant yellow. He turns his head and looks at Zoro, his face a mask of stoicism. But Zoro can see fear creeping up behind his eyes, uncertainty twitching his lips downwards. 

Then he turns back around and dives headfirst into the water. 

For a moment, nobody does anything. Sanji is the best swimmer on the crew except for Jinbe. Diving in fully clothed is weird, but they have a skeleton and a talking reindeer on their crew, so on the list of weird things, it’s low. The crew stares at the water, wondering what the hell Sanji is doing. Did he spot a nice fish? A cute mermaid in trouble?

And then Sanji does not come up. Zoro leans against the railing, looking in. He can just about see Sanji, a dark form at the bottom of the shallow water. The cook is not moving. 

Before Zoro can dive in, there’s a flash of blue as Jinbe rushes past him. Quicker than Zoro can blink, he’s in the water and hauling Sanji up to the surface. 

Zoro’s heart skips a beat. There’s blood in Sanji’s hair. 

There’s a flurry of panic on deck. Chopper screams for a doctor as Jinbe carries Sanji up. Upon realising that he is the doctor, he asks Jinbe to bring Sanji to the infirmary. The door closes firmly behind Chopper, and the rest of the crew stares.

What the hell just happened?

Zoro sits at Sanji’s bedside and waits. The sun has long set, plunging the world into a darkness that creeps into Zoro’s bones. He looks out of the infirmary window at the silver moon. For a moment, he’s not on the Sunny, at the cook’s bedside. He’s at Shimotsuki Village, bathed in moonlight as his sensei stands before him and confirms that Kuina is dead. It’s the same moon. No matter what changes here on Earth, the stars and the sun and the moon remain the same. Watching impassively, impossibly far away yet carried with him like a dependable token of home. 

In the end, he’s still Zoro. He hopes Sanji is still Sanji. 

“He’s going to be okay,” Chopper places a reassuring hoof on Zoro’s leg. “He’ll have a mild concussion, but he’s already healing fast. He must have been exhausted though. He usually wakes up faster than this.”

They both silently stare at Sanji’s face. The grey tone is worrying. Up close, in the brighter lights of the infirmary, Sanji looks like he hasn’t slept in days. 

“I should have known something was wrong. What kind of doctor am I?” Chopper tries (and fails) to hold back tears. 

“A good one. It’s not your fault he was hiding something,” Zoro puts a reassuring hand on Chopper’s head. “Robin talked to you?”

Chopper sniffs and puts on a brave face. He clenches his hooves, and for a moment Zoro sees a rage in his eyes that hints at the monster Chopper can become if he chooses. 

“Yes. She thinks Germa experimented on him. They might have done something to his brain. I’ve scanned his brain and I’m waiting for the results. Robin told me to get her as soon as he wakes up.”

That’s probably unnecessary. The whole crew is seated just outside the infirmary door. Waiting. As soon as Sanji so much as stirs, they’re all going to cram in to see him. 

“I’m going to kill them,” Zoro mutters. It’s not a threat. It’s a promise. And Chopper knows exactly who he means. 

Judge Vinsmoke. His scientists. Caesar. Those brothers. Anyone and everyone who hurt Sanji. Even if it’s not what Sanji wants, the decision was taken out of the cook’s hands as soon as Judge’s actions put the crew in danger. Zoro loves Sanji’s kindness. Rough around the edges and warm in the middle. Zoro only wishes the cook had more self preservation. As much as Zoro wouldn’t change Sanji for the world, there are limits. The stupid dartbrow is going to get himself killed, and Zoro can’t have that. So the decision is out of Sanji’s hands. 

A few minutes later, Sanji stirs. He takes a deep breath, squeezes his eyes shut, and the rest of the crew burst in like an explosion. 

Zoro’s shoulders tense. His eyes find Robin’s.

It’s time.

Chapter Text

“Are you alright, Sanji?”

“Do you want some cola, bro?”

“No, meat! Meat always helps!”

“Everyone. Let’s not crowd him.” Robin stops them all in her tracks with her tone. Sanji’s eyes are slowly blinking open, reluctant and squinting. He looks like he’d rather sleep for a week. Robin sits on the other side of Sanji’s bed, across from Zoro, and smiles at the cook. Zoro barely remembers his mother, but he thinks this might be how mothers smile at their children. 

The others settle in around the door. Chopper, standing next to Zoro, looks at Robin with a cautious expectation. 

“Sanji, can you hear me?” Robin asks. Sanji attempts to sit up, limbs shaking subtly. Zoro reaches out and helps, settling the pillows behind Sanji so he can lean back. The cook sends Zoro a fleeting, fragile smile. 

Sanji clears his throat. “Yes, dear Robin.”

“Good,” Robin looks Sanji over, expression unreadable. “Punch me in the face.”

For a split second, Zoro scoffs. They all know Sanji would never. It would be breaking two of his closely held principles - not using his hands to fight, and not hurting a woman. Sanji holds these principles tight to his heart. Zoro wonders where they came from - Zeff? He seems that kind of guy, the old sea dog. And from what Zoro now knows about Sanji’s childhood, it’s easy to see why that lost little boy would hold onto a real parent like a lifeline in a stormy sea. Even if the lifeline gives him rope burns. Sanji has thoroughly demonstrated that he would rather die than ever-

A beat. 

And then Sanji’s fist is lashing out, lightning fast, horrifyingly fast, aiming directly for Robin’s cheek-

Just as fast, Robin blooms a hand to catch the fist. Sanji, wide-eyed and manic, tries again with the other fist-

“Stop. Stop trying to hit me.” At Robin’s command, Sanji slumps back in bed. Shell shocked, mouth slightly parted, looking like he’s going to throw up. Breathing fast and greyer than ever. 

“I’m sorry. That was cruel of me,” Robin looks genuinely apologetic. “But I had to be sure.”

“Sure of what?” Brook pitches in, sounding strangled. The crew watches on with various horrified expressions. “What’s going on?”

“No way,” Usopp has gone pale. “Oh god. I get it now.”

And so does Zoro. A rock has lodged itself in the pit of his stomach. He reaches out and takes Sanji’s shaking hand, as if to reassure them both that he didn’t hurt Robin. That Sanji is still Sanji. 

“Robin?” Luffy speaks up, his hat shading his eyes. 

“Sanji, it’s okay,” Chopper changes to his human-like form so he can check Sanji’s heart rate. Zoro can hear it from here, quick as a rabbit trapped in the jaws of a wolf. “Robin’s okay. Calm down.”

And before their eyes, with dawning realisation, the crew sees Sanji immediately relax. His breathing slows. His expression goes slack. He almost looks drugged. 

“Oh shit,” Nami whispers. The others are stunned into silence. Or maybe, like Zoro, they’re running through everything they’ve said to Sanji since he was rescued. How much have they hurt him, without ever realising? Zoro feels sick. Like he wants to reach in and pull his insides out. Guilt feels like a poison in his gut.

“I believe Germa has experimented on our dear cook,” Robin says. Her tone is sad, even grieving, but there’s anger there too. “Made him… obedient.”

“So he’s doing everything we say?” Usopp’s eyes are wide, panicked. “Dude, I told him to clean the whole deck! Like, as a joke! I told him… I told him not to sleep! But it was sarcastic! Sarcasm doesn’t count, right? Right?!”

Usopp looks around at the rest of the crew, desperate for it not to be true. Desperate to know that he hasn’t hurt Sanji. But none of them can offer reassurance. When was the last time any of them saw Sanji sleep? He’s gone to bed, but late at night, Zoro would turn over to see Sanji staring at the ceiling. It’s not an unusual sight; Sanji struggles to sleep sometimes. What Zoro assumed was brief insomnia had, in reality, been a total inability to sleep.

And that’s why the cook was cleaning the deck late at night, until he was ready to collapse. At least Zoro had told him to sleep after.

Wait. No. He hadn’t. He’d told him to go to bed. Did Sanji sleep then? Or…

“I’m right here, you know,” Sanji mutters. “Don’t talk about me like I’m not.”

Usopp mumbles an apology. Nami pushes herself to the front, face pale.

“But I asked you to… I made you do so much work, and then I forced you to talk to me! I made you, oh…” she trails off. There are horrified tears in her eyes. “I told you to tell the truth.”

“Why didn’t you say anything, bro?” Frank looks struck. Sanji opens his mouth. Nothing comes out for a few moments, and then:

“Nothing happened.”

Zoro inhales like he’s been stabbed. Fuck.

“That worries me,” Robin puts a hand on her face thoughtfully. “I assume you’ve been told not to tell us anything about what happened in that lab?”

Sanji grits his teeth. “...Nothing happened.”

“If you’re still under Nami’s order to tell the truth, but you can’t talk about what happened at the lab, those two orders conflict. And yet you can’t say anything. Clearly something happened.” Robin rests her hand soothingly on top of Sanji’s.

“Maybe orders from Judge have priority?” Chopper suggests. The very notion of Judge Vinsmoke having that much power over Sanji boils Zoro’s blood. How dare he, after everything else he’s done to the cook? “I’ll have to run some tests. More brain scans. There has to be a way I can fix this!”

“I will work to discover exactly what Judge has planned. I should be able to work it out by pitting 'tell the truth' against the orders of Judge - process of elimination. I can’t imagine he did this without reason. Even letting us take Sanji back may have been a calculated step,” Robin comments. Sanji turns his wrist palm-up and gently squeezes her hand. She rewards him with a slight, sad smile.

Zoro swallows. They’ve been played. No wonder it was so easy to get Sanji back. No wonder nobody was there. 

The door. The door. Sanji was probably told not to leave that cell. He must have kicked the door out in desperation. It’s all coming together, Sanji’s actions over the last couple of weeks are making more sense, the puzzle pieces slotting together to create a nightmarish picture. Judge did this for a reason. That plan probably includes harm to the crew.

From Sanji. 

To force Sanji, who would do anything for the crew, who would die for the crew, to hurt them. 

Sanji takes a few deep breaths. “I’m always happy to talk with you, my dear Robin.”

Translation - you’re on the right track. Please interrogate me.

“Waah!” Chopper suddenly gasps tearfully. “I told you not to smoke, didn’t I? Oh no! Sanji, I would never… I mean, you should stop smoking, it’s really bad for you, you could get lung cancer or COPD or heart problems or throat problems or… oh, but it’s totally against medical ethics to take that choice away from a patient!”

Chopper hurries over to one of his drawers, back in his usual form, his hooves patting urgently against the wood. He takes out a pack of cigarettes, likely confiscated from one of Sanji’s other times in the infirmary. He hands the pack to Sanji. 

“Here, you can smoke these.”

Sanji holds the pack tentatively. He doesn’t take one out. He gives Chopper a pointed look.

“I believe what Sanji wants to say is it needs to be more direct,” Robin smiles slightly, but there’s little humour in it. “ You can smoke is a statement, not an order.”

“Oh…” Chopper’s ears droop. “Um. Okay. Sanji, disregard my previous instruction not to smoke. Please.”

The effect is immediate. Sanji tears into the carton and has a cigarette between his lips before Zoro can blink. He starts patting his clothes for a lighter, but they changed him out of his wet clothes, and there isn’t one. 

“Here, bro,” Franky comes to the rescue, producing a flame from the tip of his finger. He reaches in and lights the cigarette. Sanji takes a deep inhale, savours the flavour, and breathes out. Like something is finally right with the world, when everything else is wrong. The smell is comforting to Zoro, too. It smells like Sanji. It smells like home. 

“Disregard my previous instructions, too!” Usopp says quickly. “I dunno what else I said, probably some dumb stuff, I’m sorry!”

“And me-!” Nami starts, but Robin holds up a hand. 

“Sorry, Nami,” Robin frowns. “But I’m going to need Sanji to keep being honest for now. At least until I’m done getting information out of him.” 

Nami’s shoulders sag. She blinks away tears. “Fine. Sanji, disregard my previous orders, except my order to tell the truth. And then later, I’ll set you free from that. I promise.”

The crew glances at each other, quietly livid. Chopper is crying again. So is Franky. Nami’s face twists with guilt. Usopp looks sick. Brook has his hands clenched tightly around his cane. Jinbe stands at the back, expression dark. Zoro can’t even see Luffy’s face, his hat is pulled down so far. 

Sanji smokes silently. It’s like he’s both there and not there. Physically present, but unable to contribute, shackled by Judge. He looks silently frustrated, but his shoulders sag with relief. 

Robin clears her throat. “If you could all excuse me and Sanji, please. This will be easier without distraction.”

Reluctantly, the others file out one by one. Until only Robin, Luffy and Zoro remain. Sighing heavily, Zoro gets up.

“Come on, captain. This is Robin’s fight.”

Zoro wants to stay. He wants to hold Sanji’s hand some more and reassure himself that Sanji is still here. Wants to feel Sanji’s warmth, the rush of his blood that sings yes, I’m Sanji, right now I’m Sanji and I’m safe.

But that’s not true. And it’s not his fight. Robin has the brains for this. Only she has the silver tongue required to corner Sanji’s brain into giving up its secrets. 

Luffy frowns at Sanji, an indescribable look in his eyes. Fury. Determination - or, rather, something beyond that. A promise. Divine assurance. Otherworldly. Something in Luffy’s eyes is ancient. The room brightens for a moment, like the sun emerging from storm clouds, and they hold their breath.

“...Fine. But I’m coming back in after!” Luffy insists. 

“Yeah,” Zoro agrees. He looks at Sanji, who is staring at Luffy with bewilderment and something close to awe. 

“We’ll be back, cook. See you soon. We can talk later.”

He understands now, why Robin told him to be careful about what he says. He has to consciously think over every word coming out of his mouth. He’s still replaying everything he said. The conversation in the galley - tell me everything. That makes sense. Horrifying, but it makes sense. He doesn’t understand what he said to make Sanji jump off the ship, though. Drown his sorrows? How does that mean ‘jump off the ship’?

Zoro heads to the crows nest, brain buzzing with uncomfortable theories. 

Robin doesn’t emerge from the infirmary for two hours. It’s late by now, the sun long swallowed up by darkness. The stars and moon overhead are obscured by clouds, who lazily rolled in and blanketed the sky to hide even the night time light sources. Nobody has gone to bed. Brook stands at the bow, playing the violin. He plays a few songs, but always loops back around to Bink’s Sake. A slow, haunting version. It sounds like grief, like a pause. Like waiting. Knowing the next song is coming keeps the crew going.

The infirmary door opens. Robin and Sanji emerge together. They head to the galley, and the rest of the crew follows them in and sits around the table. On auto pilot, Sanji starts boiling the kettle for tea. Nobody tells him to stop. 

“Judge plans for Sanji to kill Luffy,” Robin accepts a cup of tea from Sanji with a smile, as if she’s not discussing him killing their captain. “If Judge can bring Luffy’s head to the world government, he hopes Germa will be let back in as royals. To make up for the attempted alliance with Big Mom. If any of us get in Sanji's way, he’ll kill us too.” 

There’s a pensive silence. Zoro looks up at Sanji, still serving tea. The cook’s hands are trembling. 

“From what I can gather, Sanji has been given coordinates. He’s to bring Luffy’s body to the ship that is moored at those coordinates, by the end of the month. As it takes a few days to reach that ship, and the end of the month is almost upon us, I suspect it won’t be too much longer before Sanji is unable to resist these orders.” 

“But there has to be something we can do, right?” Usopp asks. There’s sweat beading on his forehead. 

“I’m working on a cure!” Chopper pipes up quickly. “B-But I don’t think I can do it that fast…”

Robin sips her tea. “There may be one other solution. There appears to be a hierarchy for orders, with Judge’s orders above ours. But it’s possible Luffy’s orders would override Judge’s. Luffy has an unassailable presence. He’s a leader, beyond doubt. Sanji’s brain might accept orders that override Judge’s, if they come from him.” 

Everyone looks at Luffy - Sanji included. Luffy has a frown on his face, like he’s thinking very hard about something. It’s not a look he sports very often. Then he puts his hand on his hat, tips it back, and smiles. 

“No.”

“What? The fuck do you mean, ‘no’?!” Usopp smacks his hands on the table. “Luffy!”

“Perhaps you could explain your reasoning? And reconsider?” Jinbe puts in gently. Asking Luffy to reconsider is like asking the stars to move around to spell out your name. 

“I can’t believe my ears! Not that I have any ears, yohohoho-”

“That’s super not a good idea!” 

“We’re talking life or death, Luffy! He might kill you, idiot!” Nami adds. 

“Nah,” Luffy shrugs. “I’m not gonna order Sanji to do anything. Not when he can’t say no.”

Most of the crew groan. Brook puts a skeletonised hand on Luffy’s shoulder.

“I appreciate the notion, captain, but Judge already took Sanji’s freedom away. You’d only be righting a wrong.”

“Nuh uh!”

“The fuck you mean nuh uh?! ” Usopp screeches louder. 

Zoro sighs. He should have seen this coming. Freedom is the thing Luffy values the most. He might be the captain, but he lets his crew do what they want. He trusts their judgement, he trusts their strength. If it were one of the others on the crew in danger, Luffy might consider ordering Sanji. But instead, he’s going to trust Sanji. Trust his crew. Sanji looks shellshocked, but this is something he can’t talk about. He’s not able to argue with Luffy.

“Alright,” Zoro’s voice cuts above the others as they start to bicker. “So what’s the alternative? We make it happen. There’s gotta be a way.”

“Like… we let Sanji kill Luffy?” Nami glares at Zoro. “Great idea, idiot.”

Sanji is also glaring at Zoro. 

“Fucking mosshead,” he mutters, and that’s as much as he can say to announce how much he thinks that’s a dumb idea.

“Actually…” Robin frowns thoughtfully, interrupting what was sure to be a full blown argument. “It may be possible to complete Sanji’s orders without having Luffy die. Chopper, may I discuss with you in the infirmary?”

Zoro shoots Sanji a smug look, causing the cook to kick him in the head. It’s comfortingly familiar. 

He and Robin are on the same wavelength for once. If they can twist the orders in a way that can get them fulfilled without Luffy dying, something that satisfies Sanji’s brain, they can sort this whole mess out. Sail up on Germa and make them pay. Simple. Ish. 

“How about we head to bed for now?” Jinbe suggests. “Nothing more will happen tonight.”

“Are you sure? What if Sanji gets, y’know, a murderous urge? No offence, Sanji,” Usopp glances at Sanji, who shrugs in reply. It’s a realistic thing to worry about, that shrug seems to say.

“Someone should stay with him, perhaps,” Brook says. “They can scream if he starts acting strange.”

Sanji babysitting duty. Fine by Zoro. 

“I’ll take first watch. Let’s head to bed.”

Everyone gets up and files out. Brook goes to take watch in the crow’s nest, and Zoro slips a hand into Sanji’s as they walk to the men’s bedroom.

“You gonna watch me sleep, mosshead? Creepy,” Sanji says, but there’s a tired smile to his voice. 

“Yep. You’re cuter when you’re not yelling at me.” 

Sanji has enough life left in him to blush. “Shut the fuck up!”

“And you’re hotter when you are yelling at me,” Zoro adds with a smirk. 

The two of them bicker all the way until Sanji is in bed, Zoro sitting cross-legged on the floor next to him. Sanji is exhausted, looking like he’d fold like a paper crane should he so much as think about getting back up again. He lets his hand dangle beside the bed, and Zoro reaches out to hold it. Sanji’s asleep before Zoro can say anything, but he says it anyway. 

“I love you. Goodnight,” he whispers into the darkness. 

Sanji wakes up late the following morning.

He can’t be blamed for that. He had a long day yesterday. A concussion, an interrogation, revelations. He’s beyond relieved that the crew knows. But dread has her spindly fingers wrapped around his spine, digging into his guts. Luffy refuses to even consider ordering Sanji not to kill him. Idiot rubber. Sanji couldn’t wish for a better captain. 

There’s a chance they won’t find an alternative in time. A good chance. 

Sanji heads out of the men’s bedroom and onto the deck, followed by his current babysitter, Jinbe. Sanji’s grateful that the helmsman appreciates the art of silence. He lights up a cigarette and leans against the railing.

He gazes out to sea, that wide expanse of blue, stretching impossibly out to the horizon. Those on land may look up and think heaven must be up there somewhere. But Sanji thinks it’s right here. Flowing with colour. Surging with life, with possibilities. When Sanji dies, hopefully some day in the distant future, he would like to return to the arms of the ocean. He thinks it would be like returning to his mother.

Unseen by the fishman behind him, he reaches into his sleeve and touches the knife he took from the kitchen last night. It’s sharp. All his knives are. It could take off Luffy’s head with one swipe. He wouldn’t even see it coming. 

Sanji heads to the kitchen to make breakfast. He tries to put the knife back. He can't.

It burns in his sleeve as he serves breakfast, as he serves lunch. Luffy’s neck is so close. Too close. Too trusting. He knows what Sanji needs to do, and yet he leaves his neck proudly exposed. Yelling to the world - I trust my cook! I trust my crew! They’ll figure it out!

How naive. 

Chapter Text

The Sunny sails dutifully towards Germa at a steady pace. It buys them some time, but not much. Sanji can feasibly wait until the last hours of the month to kill Luffy, if he can still deliver his head to Judge and Caesar on time. 

Chopper is working frantically on a cure. He’s reviewed the brain scans, and has taken to locking himself in the infirmary for hours to work. He emerges to eat every now and then, expression sitting precariously somewhere between hope and anguish. He mutters surgical theory to himself at the galley table during meals, half asleep. It makes Usopp look a little green around the edges when Chopper mumbles about cutting into Sanji’s skull, but nobody tells the reindeer to stop.

Everyone is tense. They’re in the in-between, with things being okay right now but maybe very not okay soon. Like a game of musical chairs. So long as the music keeps playing, nobody has to sit down. Nobody has to lose a seat and fall. Nobody is out. But when they reach Germa, the music will stop. 

Sanji is acutely aware of the burn within him. The sickening urge. It whispers to him at night, all day, dusk til dawn. 

Kill. Kill. Kill.

He tries to distract himself with cooking. Pastries, cakes, quiche, red bean buns. If he’s laminating puff pastry (the long way, not a rough puff), he’s not thinking quite as hard about slitting Luffy’s throat with the knife in his sleeve. 

It also helps to have a babysitter with him at all times. They're a good distraction, and Sanji knows they can alert the others if he turns murderous. It feels like a safety blanket, his crew sitting with him. He can trust them. But he wishes Luffy would change his mind. It’s so stupid, but Sanji gets it. Just like Sanji himself, Luffy has values. Principles. Things he will never do. Taking freedom away from his crew member - even, in a way, to give it back - is something he won’t do. It’s as cemented as Sanji not wasting food or not hitting a woman. It’s who Luffy is. Sanji wouldn’t change him. 

Nami takes one of the first shifts as babysitter. Sanji presents her with a tray of patisserie, little cakes and mousses, intricately decorated and bite sized. She smiles sadly at him, like she wants to cry again. Something overwhelmed and painfully lonely. Sanji feels a stab of guilt at being the reason for that expression. 

“How are you feeling?” She asks, carefully picking up a petit four. It’s pistachio and tangerine, delicate but rich. She’s already reversed her order to tell the truth, now that Robin is done interrogating him. So he’s free to lie to his heart’s content. Still, he thinks, she deserves better than that. 

“Tired,” he gets out some of the fruit tea he knows she likes. There’s a beef wellington in the oven for dinner, and lunch is already sitting ready in the fridge. “But it’s manageable, right now.”

He hasn’t been getting much sleep, even now that he can sleep. 

“I’m glad.” Nami sighs. Sanji sets out the tea and sits across from her. 

Kill. Kill. Kill. 

He wonders where Luffy is right now. If he’s alone-

“What about you? Are you okay, Nami dear?” Sanji interrupts his own thoughts. He’s worried about the pinched look to her face. She glares at him. 

“Why are you worrying about me? We hurt you!”

Sanji can’t say what he wants to say. That it’ll be okay. That it’s nobody’s fault except Judge Vinsmoke and Caesar Clown. That she should consider being angry at him, not herself, because he’s the one thinking obsessively about killing their captain. 

“I forgive you,” Sanji says instead. Because how can he not? His crew never meant to hurt him. 

“You should-” Nami pauses, cuts herself off, has to reword. Everyone has been careful so far to not give him any more orders. “I forced you to come out to me when you weren’t ready. That’s an awful thing to do, and I’m sorry. I know it wasn’t on purpose, but I shouldn’t have pressed the issue. Regardless of what’s going on, it wasn’t my place to pry into your relationship. I’m sorry.”

She reaches over and takes his hand, gripping it tight, afraid to let go. As if everything might be okay if she just holds onto him. 

Nami has always been open about her affection for women. It’s not a secret, and she’s never had a ‘coming out’ moment. Sanji is relieved she understands that his journey has been different. Accepting himself has been a hurdle, and he’s only just vaulted over it. 

“Thank you,” he squeezes her hand. He won’t tell her the apology is unnecessary, because that’s not what she needs to hear. If Sanji were being honest, he could acknowledge that wouldn’t be true, either. The apology settles some nervous thing in his chest, calms the little voice that tells him the crew doesn’t care. They do care. Nami is devastated that she hurt him, even accidentally. 

Sanji feels so loved he doesn’t know what to do with himself. It aches all the more that his brain wants to betray that love.

“If it matters, I would have told you eventually. Soon.” Sanji says after a few moments of silence. Nami finally smiles with some real warmth, not the sad smile from before. 

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. I trust you.”

When Sanji gets up to set the table for lunch, his heart is a little lighter.

And still, the knife’s cold steel burns in his sleeve.

Sanji considers calling Zeff for all of two seconds before dismissing the idea. 

What would he say? He would have to put one of the others on the phone first to let Zeff know not to order Sanji. And then it’s too complex to dance around the subject, too uncomfortable to speak without being able to say anything. Anything day-to-day feels too mundane to talk about. Zeff doesn’t want to know if Usopp went fishing or it rained yesterday. But anything more than the mundane is too astounding to describe - the people they meet, the battles they fight, the places they go. It’s hard to talk about that with Zeff. If it weren’t for age and the leg Zeff sacrificed for Sanji, Zeff could be seeing these things for himself. And that thought is too painful for Sanji to approach even on a good day. 

So when they talk, it’s of food. New recipes, ingredients, techniques. A debate about marinating time as a thinly veiled metaphor for Zeff showing his concern. 

“When it’s pork, you need to marinate for at least seven hours. Overnight is best, you brat.”

(Are you sleeping enough? Try to get at least seven hours.)

“It’s fine with five hours, shitty old man. The spices get in there. Your pork might need seven hours if it’s tough as shit.”

(Five hours of sleep is fine for me. Are you sleeping enough?)

They’re men. They don’t talk about their feelings. At least that’s how Zeff is. Sanji unlearned some of that behaviour thanks to Ivankov, but he still has to speak Zeff’s language. 

Right now, there’s no use talking to Zeff. No use worrying him. So why does he want to hear his dad’s voice anyway?

After lunch, Nami swaps out with Usopp. Usopp is anxious, pressing his thumbs together, shifting in his seat, unable to stay quiet. He starts spinning some Odyssean tale of journeys and battles. It’s a welcome distraction to them both. When Sanji starts washing the dishes, Usopp leaps up to help. Sanji listens to him with a soft smile.

“-So then the brave Captain Usopp and my 5000 men, knowing that we would have to climb the mountain to keep the village safe, strapped on our snow shoes and began the ascent! And listen, when I say-”

Usopp cuts himself off suddenly, the plate almost slipping out of his hands, eyes widened. “No, wait, I don’t mean-”

He cuts himself off again. Sanji was already listening to Usopp, so his order to listen hadn’t done anything. But now Sanji is waiting, hands in the full sink, eyebrow raised at Usopp. 

“Oh my god, I’m so bad at this! Disregard my previous instructions, I’m sorry!” 

Sanji snorts softly and continues with the bowl he’s washing. “It’s fine.”

“It’s so not fine!” Usopp pinches his eyebrows together. “I gotta watch what I’m saying.”

“Since when have you ever done that?” Sanji snickers. Usopp looks put out, so Sanji sighs. “Seriously. You’re forgiven.”

Again, Sanji can’t say the things he wants to say. He hopes he’ll get the opportunity. In an ideal world, they’ll cure him, and he’ll be able to talk freely about it. Tell them it’s okay, it’s not their fault. But this isn’t an ideal world. It’s a world that has rarely been kind to Sanji, and he knows that. 

So he hopes the crew can forgive him. He hopes they can forgive themselves if they fail. 

Usopp takes the last bowl and dries it carefully. He keeps his eyes on the bowl as Sanji drains the sink. “I just don’t wanna hurt you. Even by accident.”

Sanji dries his hands. He reaches over and takes the bowl once it’s dry, and puts it away. He claps a hand on Usopp’s shoulder and steers him out onto the deck, hoping for fresh air and distraction for them both. Outside, the sun is shining. Jinbe is at the helm, talking quietly to Nami. Zoro is napping on the lawn. Chopper is nowhere to be seen, still hard at work in the infirmary, and Robin must be with him, making sure he takes breaks in that motherly way of hers. 

Franky is fixing something in his workshop - Sanji can feel his presence down there. Luffy is sitting on the figurehead, staring pensively into the hazy ocean. 

Brook is standing next to where Usopp and Sanji have emerged, watching the deck. 

“Ah, hello,” Brook inclines his head respectfully. “Lovely weather, isn’t it?”

“Yeah.” Sanji’s eyes find Luffy immediately, a magnet pulled unwillingly to its final destination. He can’t look away, but he can feel Brook’s cheerful calmness next to him. He can’t understand why the skeleton is so calm. He may lose everything, like he has once before, but this time at the hands of his own crew member. 

As if able to read his mind, Brook chuckles softly. After a measured silence, he speaks.

“I didn’t come to the Grand Line to have it easy, or to be safe. I came to be a pirate. Out of a drive for more. More of everything. More life. But more danger too. Danger is the tune we dance to. It’s what we have all chosen. Don’t-” he pauses, clears his throat, changes tack to avoid giving a command. “Apologies. I wouldn’t blame yourself for our choices, or the actions of Judge Vinsmoke. We have always survived before. We will survive again.”

If nothing else, this perks Usopp up. He looks at the Sunny and their crew with renewed appreciation, nodding along. Here on the endless sea, numberless fish below and immeasurable sky above, they feel like the centre of the universe. Not untouchable, but inevitable. Luffy will be king of the pirates, they all know it. And everyone is certain that Judge Vinsmoke and Caesar Clown cannot possibly stand in the way of fate. 

Sanji isn’t so sure anymore. 

When he looks at Luffy he no longer sees the man who will be king. He sees prey. His target. A different destiny laid out with blood and science. Sanji leans against the railing, watches the sun alight on Luffy’s warm skin, and feels cold inside. 

The others are tense in the way they usually are before a big battle. Sanji is tense like a man heading to the execution platform. He’s not able to show it, because he has to Try to Act Normal. One way or another, it’ll be over soon. 

“I’ll take over.”

From the lawn, Zoro has opened his eye and has it fixed on Sanji. His voice manages to finally get Sanji to look away from Luffy. 

“Oh, sure,” Usopp sounds relieved. Having to watch what he says must be hard for someone who doesn’t always think before he speaks. The gift of the gab comes so naturally to Usopp that he rarely has to plan out his wild tales and crafty lies. 

Zoro gets up and climbs the stairs. 

“I’ll go… prep for dinner,” Sanji lights a cigarette. He turns and goes back into the galley. He’s been in the galley all day, but he can’t be out on the deck. Not so close to Luffy. It makes his brain too loud, makes his hands shake. The galley is safe, with Luffy - at least partially - out of sight and out of mind. Zoro follows him in. The swordsman settles at the table, putting his feet up.

“Feet off the table, mosshead, god, how many times do I have to tell you?” Sanji scowls and throws Zoro a bottle of beer. Like showing a dog a treat so he’ll stop scratching the carpet. At the added incentive, Zoro takes his feet off the table.

“Yeah, yeah,” he opens the beer. “Don’t get-”

Zoro cuts himself off. Sanji knew where that was going - don’t get your panties in a twist. But that would be a command. One that wouldn’t have worked. Sanji’s not wearing panties, and he wouldn’t be twisting them if he were. Although drown your sorrows hadn’t gone to plan either, so who knows. Zoro groans.

“I fucking hate this.” 

Join the club, Sanji wants to say. Instead he rolls his shoulders, opens the fridge, and gets out some vegetables to chop. 

“Are we going to finish that conversation from earlier? We never got to the part where I,” Sanji waves a hand, as if he can swat away his sins. “You know. Betrayed you all and left to get married.” 

Zoro raises an eyebrow. Takes a swig of beer. “Nah. We’re not going to talk about that until you’re normal again. Later.” 

Sanji has to set the knife down, frustration swimming through his veins. Zoro doesn’t get it. There might not be a later. There might not be a ‘normal’ Sanji again. If they don’t talk about it now, if he doesn’t clear the air and beg his forgiveness, there may never be another chance. He doesn’t want to live the rest of his life as Germa’s slave. He doesn’t want to die, which would be the better outcome. But if he has to, he wants to have at least one fewer regret buzzing around in his head. 

“Besides,” Zoro goes on. “It doesn’t matter anymore. Not to me. We’ll talk about it later, if that’s what you wanna do, cook. But I’ve already forgiven you. You told me about your shitty family. You wouldn’t have gone back to those dickheads unless you had no choice.”

Sanji’s shoulders sag, heavy with some odd mix of disbelief and relief. Just like that? He turns to look at Zoro, like the bright side of the moon turning towards Earth, yearning to be seen past the hazy clouds. He sees the look in Zoro’s eyes, steady and sure. To argue with him would be akin to arguing with the mountains. Why don’t you move? Why don’t you sway? He could howl like the wind and never hope to change Zoro’s mind. 

“You’re an idiot,” he says instead, without bite. “I love you,” he adds, just because he can. The grin that Zoro gives him in return is worth the painfully long build up they took to get here. 

Please, Sanji begs, as he looks at Zoro’s grin and listens to his crew laughing outside. Let me keep this.

And still, the knife in his sleeve burns.

They get close to Germa that evening. Sanji can feel it. The sickening pull, the urge, every nerve alight and on edge. They’ll reach the other ship shortly before midnight, right on time. 

Chopper has been tearful all day. He’s made several breakthroughs, but there’s a chance he won’t get over the final hurdle in time. For now, the ship is quiet. Dinner ended some hours ago. Sanji had cleaned up and started prep for tomorrow’s food. He can’t decide if he should prepare a lot of food, in case he won’t be around, or no food - in case nobody is around. In case Sanji’s hands are stained with blood, and the Sunny is left floating on the sea alone to rot.

Sanji is prepping bread dough in the galley with his current babysitter, Franky, who took over from Zoro. The big guy has some knowledge of how technology and the body interact, so he’s been helping Chopper out with some stuff. He stayed up all night last night, going over Chopper’s research, pointing out new ideas. 

So when Franky falls asleep at the table, it’s only too easy to slip by him. 

Sanji’s feet lead him out of the galley, down the stairs. Overhead in the endless sky, clouds are sneaking in. Gathering in the emptiness like kings and queens come to give judgement. Oscillating anti-clockwise, dense and dark, wakeful, colliding and growing. By the end of the hour they will be a storm, but for now they simply gather to blanket over the stars. Watching. Silent. 

It’s peaceful. He’s terrified. 

Luffy stands in front of the infirmary door, poking a small beetle that scurries haplessly up the wall. He turns to look at Sanji, and smiles. Waits. Waiting for death, because death waits for no one. 

“Are you ready?” Sanji asks, voice low and rough. He wants to cry. He can’t. Luffy’s smile only widens. 

“I’m ready.”

Sanji takes the knife out.

Chapter Text

The storm has grown from swirling cloud and needle rain into a tempest, blacker than the night sky and thundering with discontent. The wind shrieks, a mournful wail carried far and wide for all who care to hear it. The snail ship closes its eyes against the fierceness of it, and can see nothing as Germa’s ship sits and waits for victory in the deluge. 

There’s not much of anything to see. In the last hour, a thick fog has rolled in. It makes no sense, driving rain and howling wind combined with thick fog - does the wind not usually carry mist away? But this is the New World, where the petulant weather doesn’t have to make sense.

Judge stands strong against the lashing rain at the bow of the ship. Beside him, Caesar stands decidedly less strong, muttering childishly about the rain and half hidden under an awning. 

Judge glances down at his watch as the hands tick ever closer to midnight. Time feels endless in these building minutes, every second a minute, every minute an hour. He’s so close to victory he can taste it. It tastes like gold and blood. He will reclaim Germa’s place in the World Government, and then who knows? It’s only up from there. 

He has been preparing for this day. His other offspring are on board, to deal with any leftover Strawhat vermin. Judge expects Sanji to appear on a smaller vessel, with only his deceased captain, but it’s possible he will be followed. The easier plan is to set sail for the nearest Marine base as soon as Sanji arrives, before the Demon Pirate Hunter and the other rats can attempt their revenge. 

Sanji will be the object of that revenge. Perhaps if Judge ever decides he’s useless again, he can throw the Pirate Hunter a bone - sacrifice Sanji to get the Strawhats off his back. When Judge thinks about Sanji’s betrayal of his crew, helpless to stop himself and facing their justly wrath, he feels a thrill of victory go through him. 

It’s 11.48pm by the time the Strawhat’s ship finally appears through the haze. A surprise - Judge expected something smaller, but it seems Sanji has exceeded expectations and slaughtered his whole crew. The wind has calmed some, as if holding its breath, ready to howl anew at the injustice of it all. 

The ship looks barren, her deck shrouded in mist and silent as the grave. She floats delicately into place alongside the Germa snail ship. Even this close, only a single figure can be seen on the ship’s deck through the thick fog. The figure, tall and lithe, climbs one handed over the Sunny’s railing and onto the ladder that will bring them up the side of Germa’s ship. As Judge watches, a pale hand grasps the grey stonework of the railing, and a blond head appears. Soaking wet, although the driving rain is petering out, and with an expression so angry that Judge can’t help the victorious smile spreading across his face. Sanji steps onto the deck. 

Under one arm, he’s holding the head of his captain. 

Ruby blood stains the head, Sanji’s hand, and the dark tailored suit he’s wearing. It’s dripping onto the ornate stonework under their feet, mixing with the rain and the grime. 

“Well done, my son,” Judge’s voice is cruel, vicious. “Come closer.”

“Fuck you!” Sanji spits back. His feet bring him closer anyway, his dress shoes clicking against the wet stonework. 

The straw hat is even still on Monkey D. Luffy’s head. Judge hopes that scores him extra points with the World Government. He can picture it now. A victory parade in Germa’s name. People the world over celebrating, knowing and regaling Judge Vinsmoke as a hero. It would be on par with Garp’s actions to become the Hero of the Navy. Germa wouldn’t just be raised up to its former glory, it would rise past it like a phoenix from the ashes. 

Judge wouldn’t even need to conquer the North Blue again by force. He would stroll in and take it. It would be handed to him on a silver platter, the people of the north would grovel thankfully at his feet and worship their oppressor like a god. 

Why stop at the North Blue? The world is his for the taking. He could push for more and more, and the World Government wouldn’t say no to the man who slaughtered Monkey D. Luffy, the dangerous Emperor of the Sea. Judge could set his eyes on Mary Geoise, becoming a Celestial Dragon. The top of the world, and it all starts here. It had been all too easy. In a matter of days, he will ascend to godhood. 

“Hey, Sanji, can I move yet?”

And the illusion shatters.

Sanji looks down at the head and rolls his eyes. “You couldn’t play dead for ten fucking minutes, could you? Dumbass captain.”

And Strawhat Luffy, the decapitated head, starts to laugh. 

“Sorry, Sanji! Being dead is boring!” 

For a split second, Judge sees it. Behind Sanji, just about visible through the dense fog, Luffy’s head is connected to something. A very long something. A very long, rubber neck-like something, stretching into the mist towards the Sunny. With a sudden thwang, something emerges from out of the haze and hits Sanji from behind, sending him tumbling to the floor. When he gets up, rubbing his shoulder and grumbling, Strawhat Luffy is standing next to him. Alive and whole.

“How many times, idiot! Don’t slingshot your body into us like that!” Sanji gripes. Luffy laughs, a bright, lilting sound, like the dawn coming up over the horizon, and Judge gapes. “Don’t just laugh, shitty captain! I got my best suit all bloody for this, do you know how hard it is to wash out blood?”

Judge and Caesar stand and stare at the two bickering pirates. The rain has slowed to a drizzle, the clouds are parting their arms, and moonlight is peeking cautiously through them. 

“What are you doing?!” Judge roars, breaking up the arguing. Both Strawhats look at him. “Sanji, explain! I told you to kill him!”

Sanji shrugs, takes a cigarette out of his pocket, and lights it. “Yeah, and I did. Brought you his head, too, as asked. It’s just that the rest of his body is still attached to it.”  

He takes a drag of his cigarette and blows the smoke out into the chilled air. Just as Sanji had warned Judge, all those weeks ago, the Strawhats are not to be underestimated.

They’re about to show him why.

Several hours ago

When Sanji’s hand emerges from his sleeve with the knife, he feels like it’s all over. Murderous intent has overcome him, he can barely breathe, it’s so stifling. Like he’s being choked, he has to get it out, he has to do it, he has-

Luffy grabs his wrist and keeps beaming, confident and steadfast as the sun. “Let’s go!”

He opens the door to the infirmary and drags Sanji inside. Sanji raises a leg to kick Luffy, but suddenly Zoro is behind him, grabbing him under the arms and holding him in place as Luffy heads over to the bed. Sanji strains and struggles, heaving against Zoro’s bulkier body, but his focus is on Luffy. He doesn’t look away, can’t look away. The knife is still gripped tight in his white-knuckled hand. 

KILL. KILL. KILL.

Luffy is lying on the infirmary bed, and Chopper is attaching all sorts of wires to him. A forest of criss-crossing lines in a myriad of colours, trapping Luffy in place. Sanji doesn’t look, but he senses Jinbe and Robin in the room. 

Sanji’s leg sets itself on fire, burning with his brain’s desire to end Luffy’s life. It burns cooler than usual, the inferno not up to its usual standard. His flames come from his passion, his heart, his kindness, kicking ass to save his crew. The forced flames sputter and quiver, and it’s easy for Jinbe to put them out with a short blast of water. 

“Sanji!” Chopper sounds frantic, but Sanji can’t look away from Luffy to see the look on the reindeer’s face. “It’s okay! You don’t have to attack, you can kill Luffy more easily with this!” 

Finally, finally, Sanji can look away from his captain. An easier way, his brain likes that. Chopper is holding a little grey panel of metal, with a green button. “If you press this, you’ll stop his heart. He’ll die.” 

Sanji’s body stops struggling. He tries to reach out instead, and Zoro’s grip cautiously lessens. The knife clatters loudly to the floor, and the deafening sound echoes in Sanji’s ears. 

What’s going on? Nobody told him about this. But that makes sense, because Sanji knows this is probably a loophole but his modified brain does not. Telling him about this might have given him time to overthink enough to close the loophole. 

Is this going to work? The pinched, panicked look on Chopper’s face says ‘hopefully’. The cheerful and determined look on Luffy’s face says ‘definitely’. 

Sanji reaches forward. Takes the button. He manages to hesitate for two precious, faithful seconds. Then he presses the button.

He kills Luffy. 

Luffy’s body gives one horrible, lurching jerk, rising from the bed and then going still. 

He’s not breathing. 

His eyes have closed, his mouth has gone slack. His head lolls to one side. The room is silent in its horror, this vision of what they hope will never come to be. A reminder of what they could lose. The very idea of it, of Luffy’s death, quietens the room - even when they know it to be temporary in the moment. 

“Okay, he’s dead!” Chopper breaks the silence, as if suddenly remembering it’s his job to make sure this is temporary. He checks Luffy’s pulse and nods in an exaggerated way, like this is a stage play. Like he’s trying to teach a toddler something. “Very dead, absolutely. You killed him. Sanji, press the button again!”

Sanji’s finger moves before he can think. Luffy’s body jerks again, freezing stiff for one long, horrible moment. Then he takes a gasping breath in, his eyes open, and he sits up in one fluid movement. 

“Woah!” He exclaims, gasping for breath. Then he grins, and it’s as if Sanji notices for the first time how wonderful that smile is. He missed it, for the ten seconds it was gone. “That was fun! Let’s do that again!”

“It wasn’t fun for us, idiot!” Chopper screeches. He looks at Sanji suddenly. “So? Did… do you…?”

The others all watch Sanji carefully. Sanji, who hasn’t said a word since entering the infirmary, overtaken by the otherness in his head. He can feel Zoro’s intense gaze behind him. Like a tiger waiting for its prey to move, silent and watchful as the mountains. 

Sanji looks at Luffy.

Luffy looks at Sanji. 

There’s nothing.

The raging urge rushing through his veins has vanished, replaced by an overwhelming nothingness. In its absence, he’s nauseated at the memory of it. Sanji swallows back a wave of dizziness. He tried to do it. He tried to kill Luffy.

“Fuck,” his voice is low and rough. Zoro puts a hand on his arm to steady him. “Fuck, I’m sorry-”

“Sanji doesn't need to apologise!” Luffy interrupts. His smile is as radiant as ever, audaciously bright, as if one of his crew members didn’t just try to murder him. As if it’s nothing, as if it doesn’t matter. That smile alone is enough to settle something in Sanji’s chest, if only a little. He still wants to sob. He still can’t. He leans into Zoro instead. Steadfast, anchored Zoro.

Chopper breathes out in relief. “It worked! Thank goodness. I’m sorry, Sanji. I wasn’t able to find a cure in time. In all honesty…”

Chopper’s ears droop and he trails off. Dread curls in Sanji’s gut. Robin, ever levelheaded, steps in.

“Our dear doctor needs to see some of Germa’s research notes and formulas before he can make a cure. But we need to go to Germa anyway. Sanji needs to deliver our captain’s head to Judge, after all,” her mouth curls into a cunning smile, something secretive and beautiful. “Here’s the plan…”

Somewhere in the mist, swallowed up in the fog, the others have already infiltrated the castle. As Judge stands there speechless, the sounds of battle float across the courtyard, Nami’s sizzling lightning and an explosion from Usopp or Franky. They’re heading for the labs. Chopper’s going to get the information he needs, rig up a cure, and end this disaster. 

Judge’s expression quickly turns from shocked to outraged, his face rapidly turning red, and Sanji takes that as his cue to take out the earplugs he’s been given and slide them into his ears. The world goes silent. It’s a solution he hadn’t thought of and wouldn’t have been able to use earlier - that wouldn’t be very Acting Normal of him. But he’s been specifically ordered to put them in when Judge catches on. And not a moment too soon, because the king of Germa descends into ranting and raving and probably demanding all kinds of things from Sanji. If he can’t hear orders, he won’t follow them. He stares Judge in the face and shrugs.

“Sorry, you royal bastard. I’ve no idea what you’re saying, and I couldn’t care less.”

With what Sanji assumes is a mighty roar, Judge leaps forward, aiming his spear at Luffy’s head. There’s a flash of green, and the spear hits Zoro’s sword with a spark of light. The mosshead looks back at Sanji. Not a single spoken word passes between them, not because they have nothing to say, but because they don’t have to say anything.

Sanji raises an eyebrow. Really, mosshead? You’re supposed to be with the others.

Zoro smirks. Aw, did you miss me?

Sanji rolls his eyes and looks around. You got lost, didn’t you?

Zoro’s face flushes cherry red and he looks quickly back at Judge. That’s a yes, then. Sanji doesn’t have time to dwell on it. His observation haki flares just in time for him to spin in place and block a strike from Ichiji. His oldest brother smirks and probably says something cruel, but whatever it is, it’s lost in the silence. 

Niji and Yonji appear as streaks of colour in the sky, blue and green snaking towards them, teal where their paths have crossed and ready to collide with Sanji in an explosion of power.  Caesar’s gas starts to spread, rippling like waves across the stonework, a violent scattering of silken fog. It’s five against three. Luffy cracks his knuckles.

Sanji’s not worried. 

Zoro would never admit it, but those few minutes in the infirmary had been some of the most terrifying of his life. 

Facing down enemies, the world government, admirals, everything in between - no problem, they always come out the other side. Facing the prospect of losing Sanji, having to fight him, the very real prospect that whatever happens, Sanji won’t forgive himself… that scares Zoro.

He fights with Sanji all the time. But that’s different. They’re evenly matched when they spar. But in a fight where Sanji is genuinely trying to kill him, and Zoro’s trying not to hurt Sanji? Sanji has the advantage. Not that Zoro would ever say that out loud. He’d never hear the end of it if he did.

Zoro stands, now, face-to-face with the man at the centre of it all. The cause of Sanji’s pain, in the past and now. Zoro slides Wado out in one smooth motion and places her between his teeth. He should only need one sword to end this. He’s going to use all three. 

Luffy is over to his left, fighting Caesar. Sanji has his hands (or feet) full with all three brothers. He’s holding his own, dodging and kicking, dancing like a shooting star across the night sky. Graceful, untouchable, beautiful. 

And in front of Zoro, the man who would extinguish that star.

“Pirate hunter Roronoa Zoro,” Judge says, unimpressed. “An unwanted rat from the East Blue. I don’t mind putting you down. You've got quite a bounty on your head.”

Why do people still call Zoro that? He hasn’t been a pirate hunter in years. Not since his naive, lonely East Blue days. The days before he knew true freedom. He’s a pirate through and through now, fighting, struggling, living by the beat of his own drum. 

“I prefer ‘Demon of the East’.” Zoro spits back. He’s fond of that moniker. He’ll be a demon, if it means protecting the crew. He’s about to drag Judge down to hell. Before the king can blink, Zoro charges forward, slashing, parrying, Judge can’t keep up, he’s only got the one spear - not expecting a fight, so arrogant - against three swords, and he’s no match-

“All of this for one useless brat!” Judge roars, there’s an edge of desperation to his voice, but it’s nowhere near the desperation Zoro feels to end this motherfucker’s life- “He couldn’t even do the right thing when forced to! He’s a softhearted, stupid man! He may be strong, but that doesn’t make up for his impudent kindness!” 

Zoro sees an opening and slashes Judge’s shoulder open. There’s a spurt of crimson blood and the large man staggers back with a frustrated cry. Zoro’s angry. He’s baffled. Is Judge really so naive after all this? Sanji’s kindness is the strongest thing about him. 

On the other end of the scale, Judge’s other sons can’t even use haki. Haki is a manifestation of will. Men with no will of their own could never use it. The princes are weak, and Judge’s oversight made them that way. Yonji is already on the floor, unconscious from Sanji’s attacks, and the other two aren’t looking much better.

Judge has been the moon unaware of the dawn. He’s about to see the light. 

And if Zoro has anything to do with it, it’ll be the last thing Judge ever sees. 

Chapter Text

Usopp is usually somewhere between terrified and thrilled when he’s hurtling explosive seeds at enemies. Adrenaline and anxiety clashing ferociously in his chest and in his veins, breathe in, breathe out, aim, strike. 

Today is different. 

This place hurt his friend.

Not just the people in it. The place itself is haunted by Sanji’s ghosts. They’re here in the walls, in the very fabric of the castle. 

And someone, somewhere might say - what’s the difference? Plenty of walls he’s shot at have someone’s trauma woven into them. From Enies Lobby’s condemned prisoners to Dressrosa’s terrorised citizens, old walls have heard many screams of strangers. The difference between that and Germa feels negligible but insurmountable. The shadows cast here have a tiny Sanji’s uncountable nightmares hidden in their shade. His friend. The friend who picks him up when he’s down, makes him food he likes, turns a blind eye when he steals ingredients for projects. His friend whose laughter echoes over their home, whose cigarette smell is as much a part of their ship as the Adam wood under their feet. 

Sanji is family, and Usopp feels vindictive each time he pulls his weapon back to strike. As if somehow, if he tries hard enough, he can erase his friend’s ghosts in these halls, sponge out the past and change the unchangeable. 

Nami is the first to find a white-coated scientist, fleeing behind dozens of soldiers. She gets close enough to press her climatact to his throat as he lays prone on the floor, and his Adam’s apple bobs against it when he swallows nervously. 

“Where is the lab?” Nami demands to know, voice loud over the surrounding explosions.

“W-We have many labs!” The man stammers back.

“The one with paperwork on what those bastards did to Sanji!” Nami replies. The man tries and fails to form a cohesive answer as Brook rushes past, sword stained with blood. There are explosions all around, Franky taking extra care to only blow up what they know they won’t need. Barracks, armouries, training grounds. 

Their carefully crafted plan is going to fall apart if they can’t find the information Chopper needs. Usopp bites his lip. If they can’t find it, if Sanji is stuck like this forever-

“Looking for something?” A voice cuts through the distant blasts. Cool and collected, like ice freezing over a storm. Usopp turns, weapon at the ready. A curvaceous woman with pink hair steps into the corridor, her shoes making a weird suction cup sound against the stone floor. Chopper and Robin, the closest to her, take defensive stances.

“Reiju!” Chopper squeaks. Sanji’s sister. “Be careful, she fights with deadly poison!”

Usopp points his weapon at Reiju, summoning a bravery he doesn’t feel. Poison isn’t something he can aim at and shoot. 

“C-Captain Usopp is immune to all poisons! Tell us where to find the documents on Sanji, or else!”

Reiju looks at each of them in turn for several long moments. The explosions quieten - Franky is probably coming closer to where they are and doesn’t want to risk hurting them. Then Reiju raises her hands in calm surrender. “Very well. I’ll take you there.”

Huh? 

That worked?

Of course it worked! He’s the great Captain Usopp, she should fear him!

Or.

Or Reiju has something no other Vinsmoke does.

(Sanji is not a Vinsmoke.)

A spark of humanity. Proof of life. Trying to live on her terms, in a place that will never let her thrive. Never give her an inch of freedom. Cramped into a rigid box, but still gazing up at the stars and seeing Sanji there. Everything she wanted but could never have. 

When Usopp thinks of it that way, Reiju is too tragic to look at.

“What’s going on?” Franky comes in behind Reiju, eyeing her suspiciously. “Curly-sis?”

“Follow me.” Reiju lowers her arms, apparently not worried they’ll attack her, and brushes past them. With nothing to go on but her word, the others follow. 

Luffy finishes his fight first. He’s defeated Caesar once before. He’s grown since then, and Caesar is a murky pool of bog water - stagnated and disgusting. Luffy gleefully joins the fight against Sanji’s brothers, morphing into Gear 5 and kicking Ichiji around like a football. Somewhere between hero and idiot, or maybe neither - maybe both - Strawhat Luffy stomps the eldest Vinsmoke son into the stone floor like he’s been doing it his whole life. 

Sanji finishes up with Niji and Yonji moments later. Yonji is unconscious first, his ugly face made softer by sleep. He can’t scowl, glower, mock, or sneer when he’s unconscious. It’s an uncanny look into what Yonji could have been if Judge hadn’t twisted him into a monster. 

One last flaming foot to the face, and Niji follows soon after, collapsing hard. His exoskeleton gives off a strange metal clang as it hits the stonework. Sanji can’t hear it through his earplugs, but he feels the vibration in his feet. He stares at his three brothers, sprawled out beneath him. He feels no sense of vengeance. Pity - that’s the feeling that wells up unbidden from his gut. So much has been stolen from his brothers. They have been cruel to him, cruel to the world. But that’s how they were built. They never stood a chance, and Sanji could have so easily been them. 

Luck. That’s all that separates him from them. Luck that he was the one his mother’s drug chose. 

In the end, the fight was easy. He hates it. Hates how much he gigantified his brothers in his head, into mythical, unbeatable monsters. That’s who they were to him as children. But he surpassed them long ago.

Sanji looks over to Zoro and Judge’s fight. Zoro has barely broken a sweat. Judge is panting, bloodied, body criss-crossed with ruby streaks and adorned with bruises. His arm is broken, hanging at a sickening angle, and he clutches his spear in his other hand. It shakes - with rage, with frailty, with fear - and cannot move fast enough when Zoro strikes again. Enma slides true, shoulder to hip, thrusting Judge back and to the ground. Before Judge can think about moving, Zoro has a sword to his neck. 

Zoro probably says something lame and not cool at all, because he’s a dumb mosshead, but Sanji still can’t hear. Zoro glances back at Sanji and frowns, probably because he was hoping for a reaction from him. In a moment of touching stupidity, Zoro reels his free hand back and punches Judge square in the teeth, knocking several out and causing him to gag. Sanji rolls his eyes. 

Fuck, he loves Zoro.

He slides his earplugs out, knowing Judge can’t talk with a mouthful of blood and teeth. 

“There were easier ways to silence him, dumbass,” Sanji snorts and flicks blood off his boot. Zoro grins, feral and gorgeous. 

“Yeah, but they wouldn’t have been as fun.”

“You’re a neanderthal. Looks like the others aren’t back yet?” Sanji looks over to the rest of the castle. The explosions have ceased. Sanji doesn’t know if that’s a good thing or not. Everything has gone quiet, save for the gentle roaring of the sea and the gross gurgling sounds Judge is making. 

“Hmm…” Luffy tilts his head, the way he does on the rare occasion he uses his brain. “I’ll go check on them!” 

Before Sanji can reply, Luffy runs off. He gains colour as he does, morphing from white back to black and red and blue, the happy slap of his sandals against the floor echoing as he heads into the castle. 

Chopper hasn’t felt this useless for a long time. 

It’s not an unfamiliar feeling. He’s aware he’s not the strongest fighter on the crew, and sometimes there’s little he can do but sit back and wait for Luffy, Zoro and Sanji to come back half dead. He tries not to be a burden and does his best with what he can do. Sometimes that means holding off opponents until someone else gets there, sometimes it means taking out weaker opponents, and often it means stitching their reckless monster trio back together. 

The crew (mostly Zoro. Especially Zoro.) would be dead several times over without a doctor. But that’s emergency medical care, and this is… this is science. This is brain surgery and human experimentation, this is cruelty and theft of autonomy and the opposite of everything Dr Hiriluk ever taught him - the antithesis of his morals as a doctor. 

The only thing stopping him from bursting into tears as he looks through Sanji’s paperwork is the lurking presence of Reiju - and his own professionalism. He can’t fall apart now. He has to be brave. He can’t let her know he’s scared. Sanji is relying on him, the whole crew is relying on him. 

Chopper’s thoughts are like static, buzzing vaguely around his head, panic giving everything a fuzzy edge. He thinks of the motor cortex and the cerebellum, the prefrontal cortex and parietal lobe, how can he fix them without surgery? He reads about what they did to Sanji, the cold descriptions of torture, and he thinks of his friend, alone and scared and hurting-

And he has to stop there. He needs to put that aside. Deal with it later. Be stoic. Be like Zoro. Only that’s not fair either, because he thinks Zoro too would be upset to read about Sanji’s head being opened and his brain messed with like a lab rat. Anyone with humanity should be upset by that. 

“Any thoughts?” Reiju’s smooth voice interrupts Chopper’s train of thought, and he squeaks because he’d forgotten for a moment she was there. He clutches the paperwork in his hooves as if this will hide the horrors on the paper. Like he can undo the past just by hating it enough. 

“W-Wouldn’t you like to know!” Chopper turns quickly to look at her. Sanji might like her, but she’s still a Vinsmoke. He can’t trust her. 

Reiju smiles like she knows something he doesn’t. “I might be able to help.”

“Why would you help us?” Robin interrupts from where she’s looking at other paperwork. The others have stayed nearby, unwilling to leave their young doctor with someone so dangerous. Robin has stayed closest of all, and her eyes dart between Reiju and Chopper like she’s looking for an excuse to tell the Vinsmoke to back away. 

“I care about Sanji.” The answer is both honest sounding and deeply untrustworthy. Nami sighs from where she’s sitting at a desk near the door. 

“I want to believe you. You saved Luffy, and then you swapped out the exploding bracelets on Sanji. But you’re still…” 

“Still a war mongering Vinsmoke,” Franky completes the thought with a grumble. He’s near Chopper, offering what scientific knowledge he can. “And that’s not super. Besides, you’re not a doctor, sis.” 

“No,” Reiju agrees. She looks over the paperwork and picks one out. Chopper had been puzzling over the chemical compounds of the drugs on that page, confused as to the why, the how, the what. What did they do? How? For what purpose? “But I’m a master of poisons. And as your good doctor knows, what are poisons but drug compounds, and what are drugs if not poison in controlled doses?”

The other crew members look to Chopper, and he feels the weight of decision fall on his shoulders. It’s up to him whether he trusts Reiju or not. He feels like either one could be a terrible decision. Either one could lead to Sanji’s demise. But there’s no time to waste, Sanji is counting on him, and Chopper has to be a man and make a choice.

“...Alright. Help me, Reiju.”

Sanji and Zoro are waiting for almost an hour before something happens. They argue in the meantime, about nothing important at all, but it settles some nervous thing in Sanji’s heart. What’s happening isn’t normal, but Zoro is. Zoro will always be Zoro, even when Sanji isn’t Sanji. 

One of the castle windows bursts open with a flash of light, and a figure leaps out of it - growing by the second, from tiny figure to giant, a brilliant white against the grey sky. A pose that stirs something in Sanji’s chest, something hopeful, something solid, an easy trust. Like he knows this person in his bones. It’s Luffy, in Gear 5, with Chopper in one hand and Reiju in the other. Sanji squints at her, but she doesn’t look injured. 

Luffy lands with a crash and a laugh. The stone floor underneath him turns to rubber too, catapulting the towers of the castle into a vibrant dance, swaying from side to side. Sanji stumbles, an impromptu tap dance, before he finds his footing again. 

“Sanji, I did it!” Chopper is in tears, holding aloft a syringe full of blue liquid. “I’m sure this will work!”

“That’s our doctor.” Zoro smirks. It’s Chopper’s version of victory over Germa and Caesar, his own form of the sword at Judge’s neck. 

“That doesn’t make me happy, you bastard!” Chopper grins. Luffy sets him and Reiju down near Sanji. Nami and the others are hurrying out of the castle, exhausted and elated. They’ve been here for hours by now, and the dawn is starting to smooth out the black sky in the east into a muted grey. 

Sanji breathes out. He looks at the syringe clutched in Choppers hooves. It’s freedom. It’s liberation, a return to normality, a way for them to return to their adventure. Sanji rolls the feeling of hope around on his tongue, buzzing and sweet.

There’s someone else who deserves to taste it too. 

Chopper approaches with the syringe. Quicker than the little reindeer can blink, Sanji reaches out and takes it. It’s cool to the touch as he grips it, turns, and faces Reiju. His crew are speaking, questioning, panicked, but he tunes them out. 

“Sanji?”

“Hey!”

“What are you doing?!”

“Oy, cook!”

Shock flashes over Reiju’s face, she goes to take a step back, but he’s too fast for her. He grabs her forearm with one hand and with the other, he jabs the needle into her skin and pushes the plunger. 

The blue-hued hope vanishes into Reiju’s body.

Unseen, Yonji’s eyes snap open. Before anyone can process what just happened, his voice fractures the air.

“Sanji. Put those earplugs back in, and then kill Roronoa Zoro.”