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Oh, it’s a beautiful evening today, calm sea surface with ripples and soft waves, a balmy wind rocks the folded sails and the sun is beaming with such radiance.
On the deck, Nami and Robin are lying each on her deck chair in their bikinis, soaking up the sun. Franky is perched over the figurehead, fixing the damage that was done to it from their previous battle. Brook is standing by, supplying Franky with the necessary tools. Zoro is inside the training room, swinging his dumbbells and working his body like a maniac until the tendons tighten and his veins jut out. Sanji is inside the kitchen, blending the oranges from Nami’s precious trees to make some fresh juice.
The troublesome trio though, they’re, as per usual, plotting for a new trouble.
Sanji comes out of the kitchen holding two plates in his hands. The wind ruffles his golden locks, his flowery shirt and he can feel it wiggling between his toes through the thong sandals. He scuttles to the deck in light steps because Nami-swan and Robin-chwan are looking lush, and he likes a lush body. He offers them the juice and Robin takes her cup with a small chuckle.
“Thank you,” She hums.
“Oh, Robin-chwan!” Sanji almost swoons over the ship. “That mysterious elegance is so charming!” –He hands a cup to Nami now– “This is for you, Nami-swan.”
She takes a sip and her face lightens up. “Delicious!”
That’s like a blow to his heart and he flies to the ninth cloud. “Your undying beauty makes everything taste better!” He lets them enjoy the juice as he makes his way to Brook and Franky. “You guys,” he calls out, “take a rest, have some.”
They abide because the work is done anyway. They feel refreshed now and Franky actually sighs happily. “This is really good.”
“I can feel my skin getting smoother,” Brook ho hos, “but I’m a skeleton, I don’t have a skin.”
Sanji calls out Marimo-kun and the latter comes down after shooting a hand weight to Sanji’s direction, Sanji dodges it so flippantly. Zoro takes his cup and leans back on the railing, sharing a laugh with Brook and Franky.
Sanji then calls out the trio and he inwardly wonders what they could be scheming this time around when Luffy squeaks, it attracts everyone’s attention; except for Nami’s because her time is too precious to be wasted on stupidity that is for sure contagious. Luffy finally comes to view, wearing this full-body knight armor and an iron helmet.
“Look what Usop made!” He gushes with childish glee.
Usop and Chopper tag along, fussing over the armor and reminding Luffy to be careful with the thing, and Zoro actually yawns because this doesn’t interest him, while Brook and Franky make silly comments about the getup. Luffy then takes his helmet off because it doesn’t fit on his head, but it drops from his hand since he’s that clumsy and it rolls over to finally settle beside Sanji’s feet.
“Um,” Luffy starts, “can you kick it over?”
When no response makes its way to him, the trio pique on Sanji’s eerie silence. Sanji is looking at the helmet by his feet with a pair of horrified eyes, like it's going to grow eyes, and without even realizing it, the plates in his hands fall and the cups clang on the plank, startling everyone.
“No,” Sanji mumbles. “No… no... no…” He takes a few staggered steps to the back, his eyes never leaving the helmet.
“No way!” Usop actually rejoices with a creepy smirk. “Sanji, could it be you’re scared of a helmet?”
Sanji gulps and shakes his head.
The trio then gets an idea and, without even wording anything, they pounce on Sanji and force him to the floor, Sanji jostles them with a curse and wiggles under their weight. The helmet flashes in his peripheral vision and he knows Luffy has just extended his hand to fetch the damn thing. And as they try to make him wear it, his resistance grows more frantic and more desperate, and, at some point, Usopp tells him to give up already because he’s wearing the helmet whether he likes it or not. Sanj’s heartbeats high-rocket as the iron touches his face, and between the shuffling and the cursing, his eyes fall on Zoro’s who’s watching the whole thing with a pensive eye, Sanji’s own are horrified.
And just like that, the helmet is fitting over his head like a glove, and is locked. The trio jumps back away from Sanji, the latter remains motionless.
“Oi,” Franky prompts. “You okay in there?”
A shudder surges through Sanji’s body like a shock-wave, and under its brunt, his heart picks up pace and it literally feels like it's about to burst out of his chest. His breathing becomes irregular, labored.
“Take it off…” He croaks out, slowly sitting up with a hunched back.
“Hein!” Luffy sneers. “And take the fun away?”
The salty stench of iron on his face feels suffocating, so he tries to unlock it or just undo the damn thing, but his hands are trembling and the movement is altered, then he just plainly fails. The helmet isn’t coming off and Sanji’s lungs are getting crushed under the pressure.
Please let me out!
Sanji suddenly freezes and his eyes go wide.
It’s cold…
Sanji’s chest starts heaving as he taps frantically at the helmet.
It’s scary…
“Sanji, are you alright?” Chopper approaches said man with apprehensive eyes.
The heartache is what worries Sanji, he wheezes, feeling the oxygen deprivation slowly taking its ugly toll on him and the foggy dots starting to spread in his vision. He clutches at his chest when the helmet doesn’t come off, and he hunches more. The rest finally perk up, alerted. Something is not right and Sanji is looking too horrified for it to be normal, especially after everything they’ve seen.
Luffy and Usopp’s grin vanish and Nam and Robin forget about getting a tan. Franky hops down onto the deck and follows as Brook and Zoro surround Sanji. Zoro’s hand is on his katanas, as if he did that enough he’d intimidate whatever that’s obviously causing Sanji pain. Only, Sanji’s breathing is nothing but erratic.
Chopper orders Usopp to take the helmet off, the long-nosed nods and scurries to Sanji’s head, at the mere contact, Sanji flinches away. His sweaty grip on his own chest tightens and the veins along his neckline pop out, angry.
So weak!
What a loser!
You good-for-nothing!!
Sanji’s head falls to the back as a gobbled noise leaves his covered mouth. “H-help…”
Why should I? You’re a disgrace to our family name.
The voice is gruffer and meaner in his ears than he remembers, and Sanji’s mind doesn’t want to dredge up all those memories again. He’s left the past behind, determined to start anew with people who don’t think too much of power. And he did, heck he’s gone to hell and back and made it out every time, he even started to think that the haunting memories no longer had the same effect on him, but oh boy, was he too arrogant to think that.
He groans and whines because he’s forgotten how to breathe, and other than the muffled uproar and voices telling him to get a grip, he really can’t hear anything, and just like that, he lets the darkness encroach what’s left of his sanity; it’s easier that way.
Sanji wakes up to the sound of stillness and the shy waves caressing the hull of Sunny. He looks around, the interior structure tells him he’s in the sick bay. Chopper's back is the first thing his eyes fall on when his head lolls to the side. Apparently, Chopper picks up on the rustling and he turns around on his swivel stool, a pen in his hoof, and then he hops down and nears the bed with a wide smile.
“Sanji!" He chirps. “I’m so glad you’re up, how do you feel now?”
Sanji sits up, but his movement is lethargic to say the least. He grimaces because his chest still feels tight. “What time is it?”
Chopper doesn’t force an answer out of Sanji, he’s heedful of his actions, especially after what happened this afternoon. “It’s almost ten.”
“Dinner?” Sanji swings his legs out of the bed and probes his pockets for a cigarette.
“We grilled some meat.” Chopper reports. “Luffy left some of his share for you.”
Sanji’s eyes widen at the impossible news. “That’s worrisome,” He says with a vague chuckle.
Chopper is a doctor and he knows it’s his job to check on his patient; more importantly, that patient is his nakama. The lines across his face deepen and he faces Sanji with a defiant look. “Sanji,” he starts, “was there a certain trigger? Did the helmet bring up memories–”
“What makes you say that?” Sanji cuts him off, a visible scowl coating his face.
“You hyperventilated, Sanji.” Chopper deadpans. “You had a panic attack.”
“A panic attack?” Sanji almost snorts at the idea alone. “Well, whatever.” He stands up, ready to make for the door when Chopper stops him, demanding to know what the trigger was so he can help, but Sanji looks over his shoulder at the reindeer and furrows his brows. “Leave it,” he says, and then his face beams. “Thanks for watching over me. Good night, Chopper.”
Outside, the wind has become chillier and Sanji feels a shudder running up and down his body. So, he freaking went and hyperventilated in front of everyone. Now that’s a bummer for you. Maybe he’ll become the Straw Hat Crew’s laughing stock as of tomorrow, his crewmates aren’t going to let him live it down, and why would they? –no, they aren’t like that.
Sanji lets out a full-bodied sigh and his shoulders slump. He makes for the kitchen to eat but there’s no real appetite, so he pecks out a cigarette pack and heads to the aquarium. He knows he won’t taste sleep any time soon; he’s just slept through half of the day so he might as well stay up for what’s left of the night.
Even though there isn’t much to do, he thinks he’ll enjoy his own company. He doesn’t turn the lights on. He aims for the side of the sectional sofa that’s behind the bar, flops on it with a tired sigh and outstretches his arm on the headrest. He can hear the water inside the fish tank burble, something about that humming is so relaxing so he closes his eyes and dips his head to the back.
Minutes later, heavy footsteps tag closer and, before the intruder can make an appearance, Sanji figures out who it is.
“Isn’t it your watch?”
“It’s Franky’s.” He corrects, he’s holding a glass brimming with good sake but he soon places it on the counter before sagging down beside Sanji.
Sanji eyes Zoro’s profile and something like a knot within his chest undoes. “Say,” He starts, now shifting to sit on his side with an arm draped over his forehead. “If you were ever to discover something about me, something from my past from way back, something dark," He ignores how Zoro cocks an arrogant brow at him, “hypothetically speaking, would you hate me then?”
“Why would I answer a hypothetical?” The other scoffs.
“Just answer you damn marimo!” Sanji grits out.
“Hypothetical is hypothetical.” Zoro wraps his arms over his broad chest. “Why worry about it.”
Sanji is too worn out to have an intelligence contest with this damn green-haired ape. He sighs and puts a cigarette on his lips. “It’s no good talking to you–”
Zoro plucks the cigarette out of his lips, and only when Sanji retaliates that he’s had enough does Zoro pull him from the nape so he can seize his lips. Sanji is fleetingly too taken aback to react, but as the lips press more, he finds himself melting into the feeling. He wraps his arms around Zoro’s neck and pulls him along as he slides to the back. When they interrupt the kiss, Sanji’s eyes lock with Zoro’s that is peering down at him.
“I’ll worry about that when it comes.” He suddenly declares with a serious face. “But for now, I’ll only worry about what I’m already dealing with.”
Sanji’s eyes are wide and sheen, looking into the other’s beseechingly, but then he soon scoffs and lets out a gentle chuckle. “Don’t look so serious," He advises. “It’s only a hypothetical.”