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Summary
The one thing Sanji had learned during his thirteen years of existence was that death creeped in slowly and quietly. It festered in infected wounds deep underground, in mold that rotted one’s insides upon being consumed. It hid in the pain of a rapidly shrinking stomach, in blood and scraped out bones and sunburnt skin. Death was always there, if someone was observant enough to notice it.
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When the Baratie gets attacked, Sanji has to grapple with his thoughts on death and belonging. As hopelessness consumes him, someone is there to prove him wrong.