Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

It was their first stop after Wano, and Sanji was nervous. He wouldn’t even deny it, if he was asked - it would be a lie to deny it, and Sanji had been trying so very hard to stop lying to his crew about this shit.

It had occurred to him at some point after they had left Wano Kuni that the Vinsmokes must have passed through nearby waters, since Whole Cake Island had been so close. And Sanji knew, firsthand, just what that would have meant for any local populations. The Vinsmokes were brutal, relentless - evil. They would have ravaged any village they came across for no other reason than that they could.

Which was why, when the Strawhats docked at the first island they spotted after leaving Wano, Sanji was so nervous he almost considered staying on the ship while the rest of the crew explored the town. Everyone was going, which was a rarity that Sanji wished he could enjoy - typically at least one of the crew would stay behind to watch over Sunny, but the waters had been so quiet, and it had been so long since the whole crew had managed to relax together as a family, that they decided to risk it this time.

Sanji didn’t want to be the one to kill the almost palpable giddiness everyone was feeling. It was only the rapidly dwindling food stores - as well as the almost certain knowledge that Luffy would never have let him stay behind even if he’d tried - that convinced him to allow his captain to seize his hand and drag him from Sunny with a bright laugh and just a tad more force than was necessary. That kind of action that would typically have been reserved for Usopp, but since Whole Cake Island Luffy had been exceedingly generous in his affections for Sanji, and the cook just couldn’t bring himself to complain. Not that he really wanted to.

“Do you think they’ll have meat?” was, naturally, the first thing Luffy asked him after Sanji finally managed to wrangle his arm back out of the rubber grip in favour of slinging it around his captain’s shoulders. Sanji rolled his eyes fondly, and smiled around the uneasiness in his chest that he had been trying to dispel since Chopper had first spotted land on the horizon.

“Yes, captain,” he said, fondness warming his voice, “I’m sure they’ll have plenty of meat for you to gorge yourself on - just remember to pay them.” Luffy pouted.

“I always pay them,” he whined petulantly, then, before Sanji could protest this blatant lie, added, “and anyway, even when I don’t - we’re pirates, baka, we’re supposed to steal.” Sanji smothered a grin at the logic.

“I thought being a pirate was about being free, not being a criminal,” he said in a mock serious tone, watching Luffy’s face from the corner of his eye as it twisted up in contemplation. His captain hummed thoughtfully.

“Well, I guess you’re right,” the younger man acquiesced. “I still think being free should mean sometimes not having to pay for food, though.” Sanji heard Usopp and Zoro snort behind them, and barked a laugh himself, before pulling Luffy into a noogie. Luffy’s surprised yelp quickly morphed into a shriek of laughter.

“I won’t argue with that,” Sanji said around his own grin, “just as long as you’re not leaving anyone else hungry.”

“Maybe you guys could, like, not broadcast your intentions to steal food as we walk into the town you’re planning to target?” came the beautiful and melodic and glorious voice of their navigator. She sounded harried, but when Sanji turned around to apologise, he found her watching their shenanigans with a warm smile, swinging her and Robin’s joined hands. Sanji grinned at her, and she shook her head fondly.

“We’ll be on our best behaviour, Nami-san,” he promised, sending her a mock salute as Luffy finally managed to straighten up, his hair now even more mussed than usual. “I promise.”

“Oh, no,” Nami replied immediately, her smile twisting into a wicked - though no less beautiful - grin. “Please, by all means, get as much free shit as possible. Just don’t get caught, yeah?” Everyone chuckled, and Sanji surrendered his hold on the captain to the eager arms of Usopp and Chopper.

He smiled as Luffy bent down to scoop the little reindeer up and settle him on his shoulder like a sack of flour, though the smile quickly faded as they rounded a bend in the dirt path they were following and came upon the entrance to the local town. Sanji immediately noted the rubble surrounding the gate, and the smell of fresh paint that grew stronger with every step they took, and the eerie quietness of what should be a decent sized community. Brook, who had been keeping up a gentle melody at the back of the group since they had left Sunny, let his voice taper off into silence. Sanji forced himself not to turn back.

As the group entered the town, Sanji watched Luffy grab Usopp’s arm and drag him bodily towards the first stall they came across, Chopper hanging on to the rubber man’s neck for dear life. They oohed and aahed over the shining velvets and glimmering silks the fabric merchant eagerly began peddling to them.

Sanji smiled, but his contentment quickly faded as he scanned the rest of the street they were standing in. The place was barely hanging on, he could tell. The majority of the buildings were surrounded by ramshackle scaffolding, and most of the stalls were scantily stocked. He could neither see nor smell any of the meat he had promised Luffy, and the fruit and vegetables he could see from where he stood were rotting. He sighed - he had been hoping to stock enough food here to last them a couple of months, at least, but from the looks of things, he’d be lucky if he managed to find them enough to last through to the end of this week. And that was assuming he was able to get anything at all.

Because he could tell, from the looks he was receiving alone, that his assumptions about the Vinsmokes had been right. The buildings weren’t the only things that had seen better days - a lot of the people he saw were sporting bandages or wearing casts or walking with makeshift crutches, and he could see some wary glances being sent his way. He clenched his fist, and swallowed back his anxiety, and tried to figure out the best way to beat a hasty retreat while still allowing everyone else to have whatever fun they could possibly find here.

“Everything okay, Sanji?” Sanji turned to see Robin watching him, a thoughtful look on her face. Sanji tried to smile for her.

“Ah, yes, of course,” he said, with a small laugh that he hoped was convincing. “Just, ah-” he cast another glance at the people around them, and lowered his voice. “I don’t know that I’ll be very welcome here, if my suspicions are correct.” A small crease appeared between Robin’s brows at this, and Nami’s eyes flashed to him from where they’d been directed toward their wayward captain, making sure he wasn’t getting swindled like he usually did.

“What?” She asked, in a sharp voice, and Sanji tried not to wince at its volume. “What do you mean? We’ve barely been here two minutes, what makes you think they have a problem with us?” Sanji shook his head and reached into his breast pocket for a cigarette. He was down to his last pack - whether or not they managed to procure any food at all on this trip, Sanji vowed to himself not to leave this island without at least one more pack. He’d even take some loose tobacco - he wasn’t the best at rolling his own cigarettes, but he’d make do.

“Not ‘us’, per se, Nami-san,” he said around his first puff of smoke. He looked around, more and more sure of his suspicions as he saw children being ushered back indoors and stalls being hastily cleared. “I, ah, get the feeling the Vinsmokes may have passed this way recently.” Nami’s face changed immediately, and though none of the Wano team knew the specifics of what happened on Whole Cake Island yet, Sanji guessed that at least a brief rundown had been shared with them at some point, as Robin’s expression also darkened, and Zoro’s hands came to rest upon his katana.

“Wait, what’s happening?” Franky stepped forward, noticing the sudden tension and thankfully keeping his voice low. “We lookin’ at a fight?” Sanji shook his head quickly before that thought could escalate any further.

“Absolutely not,” he said, steel in his voice. “If these people really were attacked by Germa then the last thing I want to do is hurt them even more. I’m going back to the ship - can I give one of you the food list?” None of them moved, and Sanji raised an eyebrow at them expectantly.

“Tch,” Zoro stepped forward, hand resting on the hilt of Wado Ichimonji in a way that would look casual to anyone who didn’t know any better, “you running away from a fight that’s not even started, cook?” Sanji took a deep drag of his cigarette, then a bracing breath, and forced himself not to rise to the bait. He tried to keep his expression as light and non-threatening as he could, even as he allowed derision to bleed into his tone.

“No, shit for brains, I’m not running. If you’d listened to what I literally just said, I don’t want to cause these people any more terror. They don’t know I’m not a Vinsmoke - they’re probably expecting the same kind of violence my brothers would’ve inflicted on them.” Nami frowned, and Sanji watched her fists clench as she sent a glare over the locals hovering fearfully in their doorways, or trying to look menacing as they stood protectively in front of their wares.

“Luffy,” she hissed, and when their captain turned to them with his blinding grin firmly in place, she gestured sharply for him to return to them. The man they had been chatting happily to looked over at them in confusion and no small amount of irritation at being interrupted in what Sanji was sure he thought would be his first sale in weeks - Sanji could the exact moment he spotted him by the way his face paled and his eyes widened. Sanji averted his gaze quickly.

Luffy finally seemed to clock onto the tense feeling in the air, and Sanji watched as he reached back to swoop Chopper into one arm and took Usopp’s elbow in his other hand, towing them both back to the main group. Nami’s face was determined when she looked back at Sanji, and he once again found himself desperately wishing he had just stayed on Sunny.

“You have nothing to hide from, Sanji-kun - you aren’t a Vinsmoke, you said it yourself.”

Sanji felt his cheeks burn. “I-I’m not hiding, Nami-san, it's just - it would be cruel to stay here. They’re scared of me. They don’t know any better.”

“Then we’ll show them,” Luffy said, as though it was just that simple. Sanji wondered if he even realised what was happening.

“Luffy…” he began, but Chopper spoke before he could continue, wriggling in their captain’s grasp until he was situated more comfortably. “Luffy’s right, Sanji! We just need to be really nice to them, and they’ll see that they don’t need to be scared - you can tell them you’re a Strawhat, not a Vinsmoke!” Sanji couldn’t help but smile at the little doctor, but shook his head nonetheless.

“No, Chop, not this time,” he dug his neatly folded shopping list out of his pocket, and gave it to Usopp, shoving it into the sharpshooter’s hand when he made no move to take it. “I’m going back to the ship, okay? I’ll have something ready for you guys coming home-”

“No,” Luffy was scowling now, and he was taking on that tone that promised a fight, and Sanji felt his chest tighten as Zoro stepped in front of him when he tried to turn and walk back the way they came. Luffy continued doggedly, “Sanji, you’re staying with us. Like Chopper says, we just need to show them how nice you are - and if they still have a problem with you after that, then we can leave. Or beat them up.” Sanji growled at that, and tried again to protest, but before he could Usopp took one of his arms, and Nami took the other, and he was all but frogmarched further into the now very quiet, very uneasy marketplace.

His palms were sweating, and he desperately wanted to leave, but he knew he wouldn’t, not now. Not now that his nakama had made up their minds, and had asked - no, ordered - him to stay. And, after all, hadn’t he been wrong about this before? Hadn’t he run away from their help, their support, their love before, and regretted it immensely afterwards? Hell, he was still regretting it now, even weeks after leaving Whole Cake Island and Big Mom and Germa and the Vinsmokes behind.

No, he needed to trust his crew in this. They may not understand the magnitude of the situation, of the absolute devastation the Vinsmokes were capable of inflicting, but he knew they would have his back should anything go wrong. And besides, his captain was a true miracle worker - literally a god, now, apparently? - and if anyone would be able to turn hatred into acceptance, it was Luffy.

So. Sanji took a deep breath, and disentangled himself from Usopp’s grip to stub out his cigarette on the sole of his shoe before tucking the end into a tin he kept in his jacket pocket, and forced a smile back onto his face, trying desperately not to picture his brothers’ leering grins as he did so.

I’m not them, he reminded himself firmly, even as his hands shook and his chest tightened. I’m not them, and I just need to prove it to these people.

Nami squeezed his arm reassuringly, and he tried to relax a bit in her grasp. She and Usopp walked him over to the nearest food stall they saw, and Sanji watched as Usopp began comparing the stall’s limited stock with what was written on the now slightly crumpled shopping list he still held. The man behind the counter was staring hard at Sanji, utter loathing in his face, and Sanji fought against his nausea as he tried to keep smiling.

“Hmm, I think we’ll just take the onions and the tomatoes, right Sanji?” Usopp turned to him, and Sanji dragged his eyes away from the venomous glare of the vendor to try to pay attention to what the sharpshooter was saying. “We could also go for the potatoes, but I don’t think we should clear them out completely, right?” Sanji swallowed thickly.

“Um,” his voice was hoarse, and he cleared his throat nervously, acutely aware of how the vendor’s gaze hadn’t shifted at all. “Um, yeah. Wait, no. No. We can take a smaller amount of tomatoes, and a small amount of potatoes. The, uh, the potatoes keep longer-”

“I won’t sell you anything.” Sanji flinched, and he felt Nami’s nails digging into his upper arm with how hard her grip became. He knew this was the point in which he should turn to the man, explain to him that he isn’t there to do them any harm, that he is perfectly willing to negotiate a transaction that benefits them both - but Sanji could do nothing but keep staring at the wrinkled tomatoes in front of him, even as Usopp and Nami both began to argue on his behalf.

“Hey, come on, man-”
“Sanji-kun hasn’t done anything to you-”

“‘Hasn’t done anything’? Look around you - it was them that caused this! Them - those - those monsters-”

“Sanji isn’t one of them-”

“Oh really? He sure fucking looks like one to me. I’ve seen his wanted poster too - tell me, big nose, what’s the name on that wanted poster, huh?”

“I’m afraid that poster is in need of an update, sir,” Robin said from close behind Sanji, and he felt her rest a gentle hand on the small of his back. “Give us some time to rectify the matter - soon it’ll be back to ‘Black Leg Sanji’, just as it should always have been.” Sanji felt a sudden surge of love for the archaeologist so strong it almost brought him to tears. The man only scoffed. Sanji finally managed to look up again, and saw with a strange mixture of relief and guilt that the man had shifted his glare over Sanji’s shoulder, where he was sure the rest of his nakama were stationed around him.

“Change it if you want,” he growled, eyes flashing with rage. “I know - we all know. The whole fucking world knows now. He’s a Vinsmoke-” Sanji flinched again. He was going to have bruises in the shape of Nami’s hand on his arm tomorrow, “no matter how much he tries to hide it-”

“He isn’t a Vinsmoke,” Luffy said, his uncharacteristically quiet voice cutting through everyone else’s nonetheless. “He’s Black Leg Sanji of the Strawhat Pirates. If you have a problem with him then you have a problem with all of us.” The man faltered slightly at that, sweat beading his brow, his eyes flashing rapidly from one Strawhat to the next, and Sanji saw fear enter his gaze, chasing away the anger - he decided then and there that he much preferred the anger.

“We - we don’t want to cause you any trouble,” Sanji said quickly, before any more threats could be made. The man’s eyes cut back to him sharply, and Sanji forced himself to meet them. “I promise, we just want to buy some food, just enough to see us through to the next island. As soon as we have what we need we’ll leave, I swear.”

Sanji watched the man deliberate over his words, watched a fearful looking woman who could only be his wife appear by his side to clutch at his elbow pleadingly, looking at Sanji with a fear that made him feel like he might vomit. For a short moment, Sanji thought that maybe he had managed to get through to the man, or at least that the man’s fear had won out over his rage - but the moment passed, and Sanji watched the man’s face harden with his resolve. Dread pooled in the bottom of his stomach even as he found himself frozen in place, powerless against whatever was coming next.

The man wrenched his arm out of his wife’s grip, and any other day Sanji would have given him an earful about treating women with respect and a solid kick to boot - but today… today Sanji could only watch numbly, as the man stepped forward, and pitched his body over the counter - and spat into Sanji’s face.

The reaction was immediate - and it was immense.

Sanji felt Nami release him at the same time he felt another set of arms pull him back. He heard Usopp and Nami shouting, he heard Brook and Franky roaring - underneath their voices, however, he also heard screaming. He looked behind him, past Robin’s pale, worried face - she was saying something to him, he thought, but he couldn’t make it out - and saw people rushing forward from where they had been watching the exchange at a safe distance. Saw them running towards the commotion with dread and fury and desperation in their faces; saw them holding each other back, or handing each other kitchen knives, violence in their eyes-

“Stop,” he whispered, watching the chaos erupting all around him; the utter havoc his mere presence was able to wreak. “Stop.”

“Enough,” Sanji felt his captain’s Haki wash over him, a shadow of its usual power but still enough to send all of the townsfolk staggering. The sudden silence that descended was deafening. Sanji looked at his captain. Luffy was looking at him, and while his face was calm - serene, even - Sanji saw fire burning behind his eyes. Sanji shook his head at him pleadingly, and saw him clench his fists.

“We’re leaving,” his captain said, his voice quiet and sharp as steel. Nami made a noise of pure outrage, and Zoro growled.

“Luffy,” the swordsman said, his grip on Wado Ichimonji white knuckled, “we can’t just let that pass-”

“We can, and we will.”

“Luffy,” Nami’s voice was shrill with fury and offence, but when Sanji looked at her she had tears in her eyes. “They - we can’t just - just leave. They - he spat at Sanji-kun!” She looked at him, and he opened his mouth to try to reassure her, to beg her, but Luffy spoke again before he had to.

“Nami, Sanji doesn’t want us to fight. So we won’t,” Nami looked like she wanted to say more, but Jinbei stepped forward and rested a calming hand on her shoulder, and instead she only clenched her teeth, angry tears spilling down flushed cheeks. “That’s the only reason,” Luffy continued, and when Sanji looked back at him he saw that Luffy was no longer addressing his navigator, but instead the vendor, whose shirt was clenched roughly in one of Franky’s massive hands. “The only reason that we’re leaving is that Sanji wants us to. Don’t ever forget that.” Then he turned, and took one of Sanji’s hands in his, and walked away. Sanji felt Zoro immediately fall into step behind them, the rest of the crew following a few seconds later.

Sanji tried very hard not to break into a sprint, the weight of the villagers’ glares almost crushing. Luffy’s hand was trembling slightly in his, and his grip was just a bit too tight, and when Sanji risked a glance at him out the corner of his eye he saw a pale fury in his eyes, the likes of which he could only remember seeing in his captain once before in Sabaody - right before he punched a Tenryuubito and brought the World Government down on their heads.

Sanji was very, very happy they were already on their way out. When Luffy had that look in his eyes, who knew what he was likely to do.

Nobody spoke until the town was out of sight. As soon as the town gates disappeared behind the trees Sanji felt a hand on his shoulder, halting his slightly-too-fast pace. He hoped he managed to conceal his flinch, but when he followed the hand to the body it belonged to, and saw the look on Zoro’s face, he knew he hadn’t quite managed. He swallowed thickly, and opened his mouth to try to say something, anything, to lessen the tension thrumming amongst his nakama - but before he could make a sound Zoro extended his other hand.

Sanji blinked dumbly down at it for a few seconds before realising the swordsman was offering him his bandana. When Sanji looked back up at him in confusion, he only huffed and thrust his hand out again. “Your face,” he said in a low voice, “it’s still - you should clean it.”

It was only then that Sanji remembered what had set them all off in the first place, and he was suddenly very aware of the sticky moisture still gathered on his cheek, very narrowly missing his eye. Nami snatched up the bandana before Sanji could even think to move.

“Here, Sanji-kun,” she said. Her voice was trembling with rage and concern and grief, but her hands were gentle as they wiped away the spittle from his face. He wanted to smile for her, for all of them. He wanted to laugh this off, to shrug his shoulders and say, “oh well, better luck at the next island” and move on - but Sanji didn’t think he’d be able to say anything coherent if he tried. He felt numb - completely worn out, as though he had gone toe-to-toe with Kaido himself, and not shouted at by an angry merchant.

“Sanji-kun?” Nami was looking at him, her hand, free of the bandana, resting gingerly on his now clean cheek. “Are you okay?” He was aware of a weight settling against his leg, and looked down to see Chopper, clutching his trousers, sobbing quietly. Sanji could only imagine how terrifying that must have been for the little reindeer, knowing what he did about his past. “Sanji-kun?”

“Sanji,” it was Luffy speaking now, and Sanji felt his captain tug on their still joined hands until he looked at him. He expected Luffy to look angry, like he had back in the town. That quiet fury, strong enough to wipe out the World Government - that’s what Sanji expected to see in his captain’s face now. But instead, when he dragged his eyes away from Chopper’s tearful ones, it was only to find his captain looking close to tears as well.

That was enough to jolt Sanji out of his numbness.

“Wha- Luffy, don’t - why are you crying?”

“I’m sorry,” Luffy said, “I’m really sorry, Sanji.”

Sanji shook his head, “No - why are you apologising, you idiot? It isn’t your fault - it was - let’s just go back to the ship, okay? Can we go back to Sunny?” He looked around at the rest of the crew, hating how miserable they all looked. He remembered how excited they had all been barely twenty minutes ago, remembered the sound of their laughter echoing throughout the trees - he really wished he had stayed on the fucking ship. “Please?”

He looked back at Luffy, and the other man looked ready to say more, but after a long moment he only nodded, scrubbing an arm over his eyes and offering a weak smile.

“Of course, Sanji. Let’s go home.”

Nothing more was said as they walked back to the ship, the sounds of Chopper and Nami and Franky sniffling every few seconds intermingling with the sounds of the forest around them.

When they got back to Sunny, Sanji made his excuses - barely aware of a single thing he was saying - before retreating into the galley. He waited a few minutes to see if anyone was going to follow him, and when he was sure they weren’t, he unlocked the walk-in with trembling hands and shut the heavy door behind him.

Only then did he allow himself to quietly fall apart.

Chapter Text

Dinner that night was tense. Sanji could tell that everyone wanted to talk about what had happened, but no one seemed to know what to say. Instead they sat in near silence at the galley table, watching Sanji bustle around the kitchen as he hastened to add the finishing touches to the myriad dishes he had prepared for them in the short time since they’d left that place behind them. The food he’d prepared for them was just as extravagant as always, and as he laid the dishes out on the table he made sure to present them with the same flourishes and smiles that he normally would, but any attempt at taking a conversation with him further than polite chatter was swiftly and smoothly shut down.

He doubted he would be able to carry a normal conversation anyway. Not with how his mind was still buzzing from his earlier meltdown. He kept getting flashes of hostile faces and scared shouts; spittle on his face and a hand on his arm, pulling him – and then, not far behind, chasing his every thought like a pack of hungry dogs, his brothers’ faces would come to mind. Twisted, mocking, cruel – Sanji shook his head sharply, and served his nakama dinner.

Most of them seemed willing to let the matter drop in favour of digging into the feast in front of them, but Sanji quickly noticed Luffy watching him closely in between bites. He knew that his captain didn’t believe any of his nonchalance for even a second; knew he could see the lingering redness around his eyes, and the tousled hair he’d forgotten to flatten after he’d pulled at it, and the way he just couldn’t seem to get his hands to stop shaking. When he caught glimpses of the others’ faces, he could tell that they weren’t buying into it either.

He kept trying anyway.

Bringing out the last dish, Sanji realised he now had no other option but to join the rest of the crew at the table. Idiot . He swallowed back a sigh, and sat in his chair with tired resignation. Luffy was following his movements, watching and waiting for any sign of upset, and Sanji had no choice but to fill his plate and eat the food, even though it was tasteless in his mouth and swallowing each bite took a ridiculous amount of effort.

Even though he could hear Yonji’s voice in his head telling him it was shit, he was shit, and everyone could tell, that’s why they were all staring at him and whispering about him and hating him–

Sanji ate, and hoped it would be enough to ward off his captain’s concern. But when all the food was eaten, one look at Luffy’s face told Sanji there was no avoiding the elephant in the room. Sure enough, the moment Luffy clocked that there was nothing left for him to gorge himself on, he sat back and fixed his gaze solidly on Sanji’s across the table.

“Sanji,” his voice wasn’t loud, not really, but it cut through the small conversations that had managed to find their footing around the table like a hot knife through butter. Sanji swallowed down the anxiety bubbling at the back of his throat, and tried to silence the voices in his head, and wished he could bring himself to look away from those warm, steely eyes. “I’m sorry.” He blinked.

“You’re – what?”

“I’m sorry,” his captain repeated, and Sanji began to understand that the hardness in Luffy’s gaze had nothing to do with rage or resentment or disappointment, but rather regret. He shook his head, but Luffy continued on, “I didn’t listen to you when you said you wanted to leave. And now you’re hurt. I’m sorry.”

“Luffy, no ,” Sanji’s words were strained, and he could feel his panic rising again. See? It whispered to him in his brother’s voice, see what you do? “It wasn’t your fault – you know that. I told you that.”

“It wasn’t yours either,” Robin said, watching Sanji closely with a horrible sort of empathy in her deep eyes. “You understand that, don’t you, Sanji?” He tried to nod, wanted to nod, but he couldn’t. It felt like too much of a lie.

“It was just–” he tried, struggling through the tumult in his brain to find the words needed to end this conversation as quickly as possible. “It was just – unfortunate.” He cringed at the words even as he said them, and cringed again at the answering scoffs from Nami and Zoro. “I mean – it was just shitty timing, that’s all. Maybe if we’d gotten there a few weeks from now, or even months… maybe then it would have been easier for me to – to avoid it. For those people to… tolerate me.” Several of his friends bristled at his choice of words, and he quickly continued before any of them could voice their protestations. “But – I don’t know. It’s fine, though. I’m fine.” Nami scoffed again, her concern a thing with sharp edges.

“Yeah, sure,” she said, and from the way her voice seemed tight and just a little bit higher than was normal, he could tell she was barely holding back tears. “You’re ‘fine’. You spent, like, an hour having a panic attack before making us dinner, because a bunch of strangers took one look at you and wanted you dead . And you can barely even look any of us in the eyes – but yeah – ‘fine’.”

A few of the others shuffled uncomfortably in their seats, and none of them seemed quite so willing anymore to try staring him down. Sanji was aware of Luffy saying Nami’s name in that same quiet voice, but he couldn’t quite hear it over the blood rushing in his ears. Weakling . He clenched his hands under the table, wishing that he could steady them enough to start clearing away dishes, just to give himself something to do . Anything to get away from that table, and those eyes. Anything to distract himself from those voices whispering away in his head.

“I’m fine,” he said again, when he was sure his voice wasn’t going to betray him. “Maybe I was a bit upset before, but I’m fine now. You think what happened back there is enough to rattle me, Nami-san? I’ve heard far worse. So, yes. I am fine.” His voice was harder than he’d intended, and he’d perhaps said more than he’d meant to, but Nami didn’t say anything else, and he could only feel disgustingly relieved at her silence. Sanji cut a quick glance around the table, found everyone’s expressions suddenly unbearable, and stood to begin clearing away the dishes regardless of the fact he was still shaking.

He carried the tall stack of plates to the sink, and was glad when the rush of the tap drowned out the whispers behind him. He sighed, and ignored the familiar feeling of dread pooling in his stomach, and tried to breathe around the weight on his chest.

They regret saving you, Ichiji was telling him. They’re realising what a stain you are on their reputations, and they regret even meeting you in the first place.

“Sanji,” Luffy said, suddenly standing right behind him. He was still so quiet, like he was trying to soothe a cornered animal. “Talk to us.” He wants rid of you, idiot.

“I’ve already said my piece, Luffy.”

“You lied, though,” Sanji couldn’t help but flinch at the accusation, opening his mouth instinctively to argue back, but his captain wasn’t finished. “I know when you’re lying, Sanji. I could tell then, and I can tell now. Stop being stupid, you know better by now.” He’s wrong, it was Niji now, his voice carrying that same humiliating laughter that haunted Sanji’s entire childhood. You’re too stupid to know better – too much of a failure to learn from your mistakes. Same as ever– Sanji snorted, the anxiety inside him bubbling over.

“You are the absolute last person who has any right to call me ‘stupid’, Luffy,” he said tightly, hating himself more and more even as the words came tumbling out. He was suddenly desperate for a cigarette, but realised with a pang that his pack was in the pocket of his jacket, currently slung over his chair at the table. The table where everyone was still sitting, watching their interaction attentively. Listening to Sanji venting his frustrations on their captain.

Cigarettes weren’t an option, then. He settled for biting his lip, swallowing down any more biting remarks before he said something else he regretted.

“Stop deflecting, cook,” As though sensing his tenuous hold on his temper and wanting nothing more than to break it, Zoro spoke up. “We can all tell you’re not fine, you’re wound up even tighter than usual.”

“Fuck off, marimo,” Sanji bit out around his lip. He remembered the swordsman’s hand on his shoulder, his worried eyes, and the feeling of cloth against his face as Nami used his bandana to clean away the spit on his cheek. Even the mosshead pities you, Niji whispered gleefully. Even he can see it.

Sanji couldn’t catch his breath anymore, and he was shaking so much that the plate in his hand rattled as he put it in the drying rack. He was biting down so hard on his bottom lip he could taste blood, only that was all in his head because his skin was too hard for him to even bite through anymore, because he was a monster now  –  he was falling apart. He knew he was falling apart, and he knew that the others could see it clear as day, which only made him feel even more vulnerable and exposed.

He also knew that they were just trying to help. They always were. But they didn’t seem to understand – he just needed some room to fucking breathe.

“Sanji-kun,” and now Nami was starting again, her voice softer than before. Now she sounded cautious, like if she said the wrong thing he was going to lash out at her. Just like I did, right? Niji hissed at him. She’s scared that you’re going to hurt her, just like I hurt your little chef. Sanji bit down harder on his lip, and grabbed another plate from the stack. Nami didn’t even know about what happened to poor Cosette, he reminded himself. Nami was just concerned about him – she would never be scared of him – her face flashed before his eyes: tearful, screaming – terrified. Begging him to stopstopSTOP hitting their captain–

The water was too hot – he could tell because there was steam billowing into his face, and his skin was red – but he could barely even feel it. He tried to pretend it was because his anxiety was making the very tips of his fingers numb, and not because he was becoming so fucking inhuman that he couldn’t even feel pain anymore. Nami was still talking behind him, “– and you know we only want to help. We care about you – we love you. Just talk to us, please –”

“Sanji?” Sanji’s shoulders were heaving with every difficult breath he managed to take, and he had such a tight grip on the plate he was holding he was scared it might shatter, and Luffy’s voice behind him sounded confused now, even more worried than before–

Careful, Sanji, Ichiji whispered to him, you’re being pathetic again, they’ll see–

Ha, Sanji’s crying again, look at him–

Stupid, worthless–

There was a hand on the small of his back, and another on his shoulder, and something – something landed on his head, falling low, covering his eyes – and there was absolutely nothing that Sanji could do to stop himself from crying out, or to brace himself when he flinched so hard that the plate he still held went crashing to the floor.

Some vague part of his mind was aware of the sudden commotion behind him, and of the shell shocked look on his captain’s face – but the other part of his mind, the part that had been spewing poison all evening, that part was screaming at him to get it off . He tore at whatever had been secured around his head, but only managed to yank it forward a few scant inches before he met resistance at the back of his neck – it was stuck – and he could barely breathe already but now he really couldn’t breathe–

Another pair of hands – warm, calloused but soft, firm but gentle, and nothing at all like what his brain wanted him to expect – took hold of his and guided him until he managed to free himself from whatever the fuck was–

“Your hat,” he whispered hoarsely, blinking at Luffy. His captain, his friend, his saviour. Standing before him looking scared . “It’s – your hat.” Luffy searched his face, still holding Sanji’s shaking hands securely between his own. He nodded.

“Yeah, Sanji,” he said, his voice still carrying that faint tone of confusion, now undercut with something deeper, intenser. Something that Sanji has seen him topple governments over. “It’s just – it was just my hat. What else would it have been?” Sanji shook his head.

“S-Sanji,” and that was Chopper’s voice, timid and frightened and tearful. Sanji’s head jerked toward the sound, and he saw them all where they’d leapt up from their seats, confused and alarmed but ready for action, ready to fight whatever they needed to fight to stop their cook from looking like that.

Or maybe they wanted a better look at the crybaby, huh? Sanji flinched, and Luffy’s grip on his hands tightened in response.

“Sanji,” he said again, “what else would it have been?”

“I-I–” Sanji couldn’t breathe, he couldn’t breathe, and they were all watching him, waiting for an answer, for an explanation, for a reason , as if Sanji hadn’t been searching for that his entire fucking life–

“Sanji, breathe,” Usopp was rounding the galley island to stand by his side, hesitating only slightly before resting one hand on his shoulder and splaying the other flat on his chest. Luffy didn’t let go of his hands. “Just breathe. C’mon, we’ve – you’ve been through this with me before. Just breathe .” Sanji tried to meet Usopp’s gaze, then realised he was scared of what he’d find in it and decided to just close his eyes instead. “That’s fine – just breathe with me. It’s – you’re okay. It’s okay. It’s okay, right?”

“Of course it’s okay,” Luffy’s voice rang out, louder now than it had been. He was clearly affronted by this whole situation. “You’re with us. And you’re on Sunny – everything is okay, Sanji. Sanji!” He shook their joined hands until Sanji opened his eyes to look at him. “You’re – what else would it have been?” Usopp shushed him, but Luffy ignored it. He seemed genuinely confused. He looked guilty , and Sanji hated that he looked guilty. Hated that he’d made his captain feel guilty over something that Sanji had thought he’d gotten over, something that had nothing at all to do with his captain, with any of them–

Poor Sanji, still hung up on his helmet, Yonji was mocking him.

Poor Sanji, still nothing more than a worthless little crybaby, Niji was joining in.

Poor, useless Sanji – he’ll never really escape, Ichiji was hissing at him.

Poor, poor Sanji–

“Sanji –”

“Th-the helmet,” he gasped out, breathless and hoarse. “I th-thought it was the h-helmet.” Luffy blinked at him. He looked to Usopp, who shook his head, also at a loss. He looked to the rest of the crew, and didn’t find answers there either. Sanji closed his eyes again, trying to focus on the hands holding him together.

“What – Sanji, I don’t know what you mean,” Luffy said, and Sanji almost laughed, because of course Luffy didn’t. Even at his most exposed, Sanji had never told Luffy or Nami or any of them about the helmet. Or the cell. Or those endless, endless days when he’d been convinced that he was going to die down there, alone and unloved and unwanted. Or the endless, endless nights when he’d wanted to. He had planned on taking those secrets to the grave – but, of course, he was too weak to even manage that much. “Sanji,” Luffy shook him again, a sort of urgency bleeding into his tone, “I don’t know what you mean.”

“Was it–” Nami’s voice broke, and she took a breath before trying again. “Was it – Judge. Was it the V– was it them?" She sounded close to tears. She also sounded like she already knew the answer. From the way his captain’s grip became bruising – silly Sanji, monsters like us don’t bruise – Sanji could tell Luffy had come to the same realisation as his navigator.

“I-I–”

“Was it?” Luffy sounded angry now. “Was it them? Did they do something to you?” Sanji shook his head again, and tried to breathe. He finally managed to get some air back into his lungs, and if he tried hard enough he could focus on the feeling of Luffy’s hands holding his; of Usopp’s hand still pressed securely against his heaving chest; of the rough texture of his captain’s treasure still clutched in his own trembling grip. If he tried hard enough he could focus on all of these things, and pretend that they were enough to drown out his brothers.

“It was – a long time ago,” he managed, opening his eyes.

He looked at Luffy, at the way his jaw clenched and lip curled furiously. He looked at Usopp, at the hard line of his furrowed brow as he tried to make sense of what Sanji was saying. He looked at his nakama, still standing around the table. Nami’s face was red, a mixture of sorrow and anger. And Chopper was in Brook’s arms, and he and Franky were crying. Jinbei looked angry, and Robin and Zoro looked murderous . And Sanji didn’t know what he’d done to deserve them–

Nothing.

“What was a long time ago?”

You’ve done nothing to deserve them.

“Sanji.”

You don’t deserve them.

“Sanji! What was a long time ago?” Luffy was getting louder with every word. Sanji swallowed thickly, and licked his lips, and tried for the first time in his life to find words to describe the abuse that had scarred him worse than any words or beatings or starvation ever could.

“The – the helmet. He – they made me wear a – a helmet. He did – Judge did. He made me wear it. He made me. He–”

“Why?”

“Because I was dead,” Sanji whispered, the words cutting through the heavy silence in the room with the force of a bullet. “I was dead – and he didn’t want anyone to see me. I was dead. But he couldn’t – he couldn’t actually kill me. So he – he – he made me wear the – and he locked me down there. He–”

Sanji couldn’t breathe again, and Luffy’s grip was too tight, and he could feel Usopp shaking. He heard Chopper crying, and Nami’s wounded noise. He heard Zoro’s low, “And why exactly aren’t they fucking dead right now?” and he heard Robin and Brook’s noises of assent. He wanted to turn to them, to explain to them that it was behind him, had been behind him for years – but he couldn’t fucking breathe anymore, and his vision was going black around the edges.

His hands were released, and warm arms wrapped around his shoulders. His head was pushed into the crook of Luffy’s neck, and firmly held there. Usopp’s hand was still on his chest, crushed between them, but the sharpshooter made absolutely no move to free it, instead slinging his other arm around Sanji’s shoulders. A weight settled against his legs, and Sanji almost startled before he realised it was only Chopper. The little reindeer pressed himself against Sanji’s calves, rubbing his face against his slacks.

“They were wrong,” Luffy whispered to him, and Sanji shook his head, forehead rubbing against his shoulder.

“Please don’t, Luffy. Please don’t.”

“They were so wrong,” his captain continued, ignoring his pleas and whimpers. “They were wrong about you, Sanji. You’re better than them. You’re so good, Sanji. You’re so good .” The noises coming out of Sanji’s mouth were almost foreign to him; noises he hadn’t made since he was eight years old. Noises he hadn’t thought himself capable of anymore.

They were always in there, silly little Sanji.

“You’re so kind, Sanji.”

You’ve always been a scared little boy.

“You’re so much stronger than you realise. So much stronger than them.”

You’ll never be anything more than a scared little boy .

“You’re amazing, Sanji. Sanji.”

Sanji.

Luffy squeezed the back of his head, holding onto him tightly even though Sanji was getting tears and snot all over his t-shirt. Even though the precious straw-hat was pressed tightly between them. Even though he could see him for all that he was. “Sanji, you’re my nakama. I love you, okay? I love you so much, Sanji. Okay? Okay, Sanji?”

You’re worthless.

“Okay, Luffy,” he whispered, and wished his captain would never let him go.

Chapter Text

Sanji woke to a mild headache and a not-so-mild pain in his back. He winced slightly and opened his eyes, immediately recognising the ceiling of the galley. It took a few seconds for his brain to catch up; for him to remember everything that had led to him, apparently, passing out on the fucking galley couch for who knows how long.

He sighed, and groaned slightly as he remembered. A panic attack. In front of everyone. And over something so trivial. He couldn’t believe he’d fallen apart so thoroughly over something so small. More than that, over something so kind. He was fully aware of the connotations behind Luffy’s actions – he had been there that first time, with Nami. He understood fully just what Luffy had intended when he had tried to entrust him with his treasure. And Sanji had practically thrown it back in his face. Pathetic.

His breath hitched slightly as he brought an arm up to cover his face. He swallowed against the lump in his throat – no more crying. He had to pull himself together–

“I’d have killed them,” Zoro’s voice suddenly said. Sanji jumped slightly, only now registering the fact that the swordsman – hell, everyone was in the room with him. No one was even on watch. Sanji looked at them all, sleeping there in low light of the galley on pillows and blankets they had dragged in from their quarters and laid out on the worn floorboards; squeezed together into the gaps around the table in a way that could only be uncomfortable, and his eyes burned.

“If anyone had done that to me,” Zoro spoke again, “I’d have – why aren’t they dead?” His voice was quiet to avoid waking anyone else, but no less angry than if he had been shouting. Sanji looked over to where the swordsman was seated by the door, back against the wall and swords close at hand. Zoro’s face was carefully blank, but Sanji knew him well enough to recognise tension in the flare of his nostrils and clench of his jaw.

“I couldn’t,” Sanji whispered, his voice carrying across the silence of the room.

“We could have for you.” Sanji shook his head and sat up, wincing slightly as the movement made his back twinge. He swung his legs off the couch, careful not to kick Luffy where he was spread out by its side. His captain was wearing the same clothes as the night before, and his strawhat was resting on his chest. Sanji tried not to look at it.

“No, that’s not – I don’t mean it like that. I’m strong enough to take them now, I know that. I just… killing them is something that they would have done, you know? I’m not – I don’t want to be like that.”

“Not everyone deserves your kindness, cook. They sure as fuck don’t.” Sanji couldn’t exactly argue with that, so just nodded his head in agreement.

“Yeah, I know. But – my mother loved them. Maybe not Judge, but my – she loved all of her children. She would never have wanted us killing each other. Not ever.” Zoro frowned.

“Sounds like she didn’t do much to stop them from trying. Did she even–”

“She died, Zoro,” Sanji interrupted before the swordsman could say anything else about her. “She – she was sick, always sick. She couldn’t – she did more for me than you realise. More than I’d ever realised, even. She – she saved me. She did.” Zoro was still frowning, but after a moment he nodded, and he didn’t say anything else about Sanji’s mother.

Sanji stretched, trying in vain to alleviate some of the pain in his back. It had been a long time since his old Drum Island injury had bothered him this much, but Niji’s attack had fucked his spine all over again. He sighed as his movements only made the pain pulse and swell, and resigned himself to a difficult few days.

“What – are you hurt?”

“Hm?” When Sanji looked back over at Zoro it was to find the other man halfway to his feet, eyes scanning the tense lines of his body. Sanji waved a hand at him, aiming for relaxed and no doubt falling short. “No, no, I’m fine. Do you want some tea?”

“Cook–”

“Booze, then. I’ll get you some beer–” Sanji stood, biting his cheek against another wince.

“Cook. Stop it. Why are you moving like that?” Sanji ignored him, trying to force some of the stiffness out of his posture as he picked his way across the sleeping bodies littering the floor. “Sanji!”

“Shut up,” Sanji hissed back at him as his voice started to rise. “I’m fine, my back is just fucked from sleeping on that shitty couch. Stop kicking up a fucking fuss–”

“I’m not ‘fussing’, cook, you hide shit all the time–”

“You are literally fussing right now, you fucking shitty ball of moss. Do you want beer or not?”

“Of course I do, shit cook, but not if you’re gonna fuckin’ keel over trying to find it!”

“I am not–”

“Fucking hell, will you both shut the fuck up?” Nami’s voice was low and dangerous, and when Sanji looked back at her she was sitting up from where she had been cushioned between Robin and Jinbei, frowning at them both through the sleep in her eyes. Her scowl lasted until she saw Sanji’s face, then her entire expression softened in a way that he wished he could enjoy. He turned back to the kitchen, busying himself with the lock on the fridge. Nami and Zoro had both fallen silent behind him.

He found a half-decent bottle of beer towards the back of the fridge, behind the much higher quality stuff he typically reserved for Nami and Robin, and extracted it as slowly as he could. He was too tired for this, he realised. Way too tired for this. The longer he stood, the more he felt exhaustion pulling at him. He shook his head, reminding himself that he had just slept on the couch for what must have been hours, judging by the darkness outside. He was fine.

“Do you want anything, Nami-san?” He tried to make his voice sound lighter, happier, less like he wanted nothing more than to curl up in a foetal position on his bed and sleep for the foreseeable future–

“I want meat.”

“Fuck–” Sanji elected to ignore Zoro’s snort as Luffy seemed to suddenly fucking materialise by his side. He barely managed to stop himself from slamming the fridge door in his haste to close it. His leg twitched, but he didn’t kick the younger man. The idea of kicking Luffy, even playfully, was suddenly and deeply abhorrent to him. He looked at his captain, at the way his curls were mussed up on one side, and his eyes gummy and red from sleep, and the corners of his mouth just slightly downturned. The way he was holding his hat in one hand, rather than wearing it – an open invitation. 

No. No kicks today.

Sanji bit his lip, and wanted a cigarette.

“Sure, fine. Just – go wait over at the table. I can’t do anything with you hovering over my shoulder.” Luffy didn’t move. Sanji sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose and trying very hard not to snap. “Luffy.”

“I want to watch Sanji cook.” Sanji sighed again, and shook his head, but didn’t have the energy to argue the point any further. He shoved the beer still clutched in his hand towards Luffy’s chest. “At least give this to marimo first.” Luffy took it, and stretched his arm across the length of the room to drop it in Zoro’s lap. His gaze never left Sanji’s face, even as the cook rolled his eyes and shifted to shield the lock on the fridge from his line of sight.

There was some lamb that Sanji had been intending to use for kebabs the next day, but his captain was hungry now, so he would just have to make do. He took a frying pan from the drying rack, realising he didn’t even know who’d finished washing up after he’d fallen asleep. The events of the previous night flashed through his mind again, and he felt his face heating up as shame coursed through him.

He kept his eyes on the meat in front of him, cubing it with far more concentration than it required, as he said, “Luffy, I – about last night, I’m–”

“Cook, if you apologise I’ll fucking cut you.” When Sanji turned, Zoro had even rested a hand on one of his swords. He felt his shoulders hunch a little at the interruption – and at the fact that he could be so easily read, even by their resident emotionally-stunted idiot.

“Find nicer ways to be nice, jackass,” Nami hissed, though her eyes were shining slightly. When she looked back at Sanji she was trying to smile. “Are you feeling any better, Sanji-kun? You’ve been sleeping for a few hours.” Sanji swallowed around a sudden lump in his throat, hating that he already felt close to tears again. He hadn’t been this bad since the Baratie – hell, maybe even since his first days on the Orbit.

He remembered how he used to scurry around, fearful of anyone and everyone, convinced that one wrong move would see him sent back to his father and his brothers and his cell. He remembered how he used to insist that he could help them, that he was useful – and how those declarations were always undercut by his sudden bouts of tears and panic and a fear so visceral it would make him sick.

“Sanji-kun?”

“Hm? Sorry, Nami-san,” he shook himself out of his stupor, sliding the lamb from the chopping board to the frying pan. He didn’t look back at Nami, or at Luffy, who had shifted to sit on the counter, watching him intently. “I’m fine. Still tired – but fine, otherwise. And – I am sorry. About last night. I shouldn’t have… yeah, I’m sorry.”

“Sanji-kun…” Nami sighed, sounding so thoroughly exhausted that he almost wished he hadn’t apologised after all. Almost.

“Sanji isn’t the one who should be sorry,” Luffy said, nudging his hip with his bare foot until Sanji swatted him lightly with his spatula. “You didn’t do anything wrong.”

“I know, I know,” Sanji tried to look at his captain’s face, to meet his eyes. He didn’t make it further than Luffy’s scarred chest, but he offered up a smile anyway. It didn’t seem to do much.

“No, you don’t,” Luffy said, quiet in a way that was so unlike him. “But we’ll make sure you do, one day.” Sanji shook his head, too afraid to take that any further.

“Here,” he said, sliding the lamb onto a plate with a sprinkle of salt and handing it to Luffy, who took it with a downright primitive noise of gratitude, laying his hat on the counter beside him.

“I’sh good!” He exclaimed, volume rising dramatically now that meat had been provided. Sanji tried to shush him, but the smell of food seemed to have roused the rest of the crew as much of the noise had, and soon the galley was filled with the sounds of them waking up. Sanji sighed, trying to sound put-upon and only half meaning it, as he delved into the fridge again for the rest of the lamb. He may as well make the kebabs like he’d planned – he knew that there was no avoiding the conversation they were about to have, nor how painful it was going to be. His nakama may as well have some delicious snacks for it.

Chopper tugged on his trouser leg at one point, and when Sanji looked down it was to find the little reindeer holding out two little white pills that Sanji recognised as the pills he usually gave Franky for his joint pain. Sanji frowned a little, and when he turned to scowl at Zoro the swordsman looked infuriatingly smug. Chopper tugged on his leg again, and Sanji knew better than to refuse him.

By the time the food was cooked and plated, the pain had faded to a manageable level, and the crew had settled around the table again, pillows and blankets shoved carelessly to the side in a pile against the wall. Sanji put the platter of kebabs in the centre of the table and handed out small plates. The others waited until he sat with them before digging into the food enthusiastically. In spite of his nerves, he felt himself relax slightly at their little noises of enjoyment, and the way they smiled with every bite. He was good at this – if nothing else, he was good at this.

Still, though – “I’m sorry for that scene last night, guys,” he said, ignoring the glares he received from Luffy and Zoro, and the small noises of protests from around the table. “That was – embarrassing. And stupid. I’m sorry.” Luffy swallowed his mouthful of food and frowned heavily at him.

“Sanji’s not allowed to apologise anymore,” he stated firmly, crossing his arms over his chest. His strawhat was in his lap. Sanji wished he would just put it on. “Sanji apologises too much, even after I told him he hasn’t done anything. So. He’s not allowed to apologise anymore. I’ve decided. Captain’s orders.” He set his brow, and jutted out his chin, and glared at Sanji as if daring him to argue. Sanji could only shake his head, at once fond and exasperated.

“Luffy, I just…” he trailed off, and Luffy’s expression softened at whatever he saw on Sanji’s face. He looked tired, and Sanji hated being the reason. “I’m–”

“You’re still hurting,” Luffy said, and Sanji’s breath caught. “I thought it would go away, but that was stupid. I’m sorry.” Sanji tried to smile so that he wouldn’t cry.

“So you’re allowed to apologise but I’m not? That seems unfair, captain.” Luffy didn’t bite at the attempted humour, only frowning deeper.

“What exactly are you even apologising for?” Usopp cut in before he could say anything else. “I mean, what is it that you think you’ve done?” Sanji shook his head, and finally relented, reaching for his cigarettes in the pocket of his jacket, still hanging on the back of his chair where he’d left it the night before. He lit one up before speaking.

“I know I haven’t ‘done anything’, that’s not what I mean.”

“Then what–”
“I just – I used to be better at this, that’s all.”

“Better at what?” Sanji tried to ignore how warm his face felt, studying the grooves of the table rather than meeting anyone’s eyes.

“Better at – dealing with this shit. I used to get… episodes. Like that one last night. I used to get them a lot. But – not for years. And now – now I seem to be getting them all the fucking time. It’s just – frustrating. I know better.”

“‘Know better’?” Usopp’s voice took on an edge, and when Sanji risked a glance at him, he looked like he couldn’t decide between tears or shouting. “The fuck does that mean? ‘Know’ – so, what, should I ‘know better’?” Nami put a placating hand on his arm, and his face lost some of its anger. Sanji was shaking his head before he could say anything else.

“What – no. No, Usopp, c’mon, you know that’s not what I meant–”

“Yeah, I do know. So why is it any different for you than it is for me? You should understand just as much as me that there’s no ‘knowing better’.” Sanji ran a hand through his hair, sucking his cigarette down to the filter. He stubbed it out on his untouched plate.

“I just mean – I just–”

“Sanji–”

“I’d figured it out, okay? I’d learned how to stop them, or just – how to deal with them. I’d gotten away from there and I’d found Zeff and I’d moved the fuck past it. It was over . It was supposed to be over.”

“How did you get out of that place?” Chopper asked in a small voice. Sanji sighed, and his hands were shaking again as he lit another cigarette. He’d expected it, but it was difficult nonetheless. He tried to brace himself, and he began.

“Reiju found me, after a while. Well, they all did. Reiju and – and my brothers. They found me and–” he swallowed, trying not to choke on the smoke, on the words. “Reiju did it. Set me free.”

“How long is ‘a while’?” Zoro asked, voice quiet. Sanji looked at him, and knew the swordsman had been waiting to ask that one. A glance around the table told him that the others had been waiting to ask as well – and of course they had been. It was the obvious question. Sanji returned his gaze to the table, and his shaking hands. It took a few moments before he could answer around the lump in his throat, the weight on his chest.

“I think–” his voice was hoarse, and he paused to clear his throat. “It was – I think it was about six months before they found me. Reiju and my brothers. At least – that’s what Reiju told me. I don’t – I didn’t really, you know, keep track. Or, um, couldn’t.”

“Six – six–”

“A-after that,” Sanji continued over Chopper’s horrified gasp, knowing that if he didn’t say it all now then he never would. “After that, I don’t know. My brothers would… visit me. Down there. Every night, just about. I dunno how long that kept up for. Reiju would always try to come after they left, to patch me up.” More wounded noises. Someone reached out to him, and before he’d even realised what he was doing he’d shifted his hands under the table. He grimaced apologetically, and kept talking. “It was during one of those times – when Reiju was with me. I had asked – we had crossed the Red Line, into the East Blue. I asked her – well, I said that I wanted to be a chef. That maybe if I ran away in the East Blue… maybe then I could escape. Escape Germa. Escape Judge. She set me free, after that. And Judge…” He shook his head. He wondered why it still hurt.

“What did Judge do?” Nami’s whisper was hoarse and horrified, and he wished he could find it in himself to comfort her. All he could do was finish the story.

“Judge found me trying to get the key. For the – the helmet. He fucking–” Sanji barked out a laugh, harsh and rough and full of a bitterness that he’d somehow managed to convince himself he’d let go of years ago. His friends flinched at the foreign sound. “He fucking let me go. After all that.” He was crying again. Not in the fast, panicked way he had the night before. Not loud, or messy. Just crying, because to this day he still couldn’t talk about any of this shit without fucking crying. “He let me go, as long as I stopped calling myself a Vinsmoke. Stopped calling myself his son. And that was – it hurt, but fine. I don’t know why it fucking hurt, but it did. It still fucking does. And you can’t convince me that isn’t fucking stupid.” He spat the word out with more venom than he’d expected. It sat heavily in the silence, waiting for someone to contradict it. It was Brook who broke the silence.

“Sanji-san,” he said, and Sanji turned in his direction, trying to muster up the courage to look into their faces again, now that they knew him. “We all love you very much,” the skeleton said, quietly and warmly and so honestly that Sanji felt his face twist, his tears becoming something more present. “You do know that, don’t you?”

“Of course I do,” Sanji gasped, raising a hand to cover his face. “Shitty skeleton. I – of course I do.” There was movement from around the table, but Sanji couldn’t move. Someone crouched by his side, and took up the hand that wasn’t tangled in the hair covering his face. They were warm, and gentle, and could only belong to one person.

“Luffy,” he whispered, “I want to be better again. I – I’m trying.” The hand holding his squeezed, and Sanji felt someone else rest a hand on his back, solid and steady.

“You don’t need to be any ‘better’, Sanji,” Luffy said quietly. “You can’t be any better, anyway. You’re Sanji, you’re already the best.” Sanji shook his head, but Luffy kept trying. “I told you before – you’re good. You’re kind, and smart, and you’re the best chef in the world. You have so many friends, Sanji. And we all love you so much.”

“But I–”

“Listen to the captain, bro,” Franky said, his voice quiet and soothing and gentle in a way Sanji often forgot the cyborg was capable of. It only made Sanji cry that much harder.

“Sanji-kun,” it was Nami now, talking to him with more kindness and patience than he deserved for making her cry yet again, “you would never ask any of us to be okay, after something like that. You shouldn’t ask yourself to be either.” Sanji shook his head, needing them to understand. Needing them to agree with him – because facing this would be too much. Living with it was already hard enough.

“It was so long ago,” he choked out wetly. “It’s – I left it behind. It’s not fair,” he moaned, and he sounded so childish but he couldn’t stop now. “It’s not fair. It’s not fair. I was – I was something else. I’d made myself into something else, and now… now I’m back to – to this.”

A soft hand rested over his, still tangled in his hair, pulling it away before he hurt himself. It held onto him, rubbing a gentle thumb over his knuckles and squeezing his fingers encouragingly when he was finally able to open his eyes and look around him.

Luffy was still by his side, holding onto him. He wasn’t smiling, but his face remained the kindest thing that Sanji could remember seeing since his mother died. Robin was watching him from across the table, the hand she’d created to hold his having sprouted out of the table. Chopper was trying to hide his sobs in Brook’s t-shirt, the skeleton rubbing his back. Jinbei looked sick, and Sanji hated to think that he’d brought any old memories back to the surface.

“I just… I wish it was over,” he whispered to them all. “I thought it was over.” The hands holding his squeezed, and the one on his back moved to rest on the nape of his neck.

“It is over, cook,” Sanji jumped a bit when Zoro spoke behind him, and was shocked when he realised it was the swordsman whose hand was on his back, grounding him. Sanji couldn’t bear to look back and see whatever expression the other man was wearing. “All that’s left now is to heal from it.”

“I can’t,” Sanji whispered, wishing he was strong enough to deserve their support. “I can’t.”

“Then let us help you.” Zoro place his other hand on Sanji’s shoulder, refusing to let go even as the cook shuddered and fell apart.

“Sanji,” Luffy pulled on his hand until he looked at him. When he was sure he had his cook’s undivided attention, Luffy pressed his hat into the hand he held. Sanji felt the worn straw bending in his fingers, feeling so fragile for something that carried so many hearts and hopes and dreams. “Keep my hat until you feel better. And when you feel better, give it back to me.” He pressed Sanji’s fingers tight around the brim, ignoring the way the straw creased and folded. “I love my hat, I’ll want it back soon. So you have to let us help you, okay? So you can feel better as fast as possible.” He smiled, wide and earnest, looking a little too proud of himself for what he clearly thought of as a genius plan, and Sanji felt his heart swell.

“Idiot,” Nami said, “that’s not how it works.” But her voice was so fond, and her face held nothing but the same adoration that Sanji, that they all, felt for their captain. Sanji wanted to smile. He wanted to nod his head and say of course, of course he would.

“What if I can’t?” Is what he said instead.

“You can.”

“What if it’s too late?”

“It’ll never be too late, Sanji.”

“What if it’s too much?”

“Then share it,” Zoro said, before Luffy could. “Isn’t that what you’d say to us?” Sanji took a shuddering breath, and tightened his grip on Luffy’s hat. He twisted his other hand in Robin’s until he could hold onto her, squeezing just a little too hard. She didn’t complain, though, and only smiled at him when he turned to her. He looked at Nami, and Usopp. At Brook, and at Chopper, finally emerging from the skeleton’s tear-stained t-shirt to offer him a trembling smile. He looked at Franky and Jinbei.

He looked at Luffy, and felt Zoro’s presence behind him.

“I’ll try,” he told them all, and found himself meaning it. “I promise, I’ll try.”

For now, it was enough.