Sanji stood on the aft deck of the Thousand Sunny, hidden behind the galley, leaning his forearms on the rear rail. The wind whipped the air and snow buffeted the ship. Heavy clouds blocked the stars in the night sky. Bundled against the cold, Sanji stared out over the rough seas, smoking a cigarette. The rest of the crew was on the Great Eirik, the Giant Warrior Pirates’ ship. The ships were tethered together after leaving Egghead Island, sailing for Elbaph. An impromptu party had ended an hour ago, though the celebration was dimmed by the death of all the Vegapunks beside Lilith, who was currently unconscious.
Sanji took another drag off his cigarette, the smoke forcibly banished by the wind. His genetic modifications made it so he hardly felt the sting of the frigid temperature against his cheeks. He tapped the cigarette between his gloved fingers with his thumb, scattering the ash at the tip. Directly below him, he could see the fantail carved in the ocean by the Sunny’s wake. He thought about climbing the rail and falling backwards into it, allowing the seas to swallow him whole.
Depression had gripped him in its iron fist off and on for the past several months. Every time he thought he managed to work his way out of it, something would drag him back into the wellspring of despair. It started with the Vinsmoke’s unwelcome reappearance in Sanji’s life, reminding him of everything he’d sought to leave behind all those years ago. They hadn’t changed, still treating him like he was a disgusting thing instead of a person. Worthless, useless, a failure – told to him again and again as a child and then as an adult, until it was all he heard in his mind. He’d realized how true it was at Whole Cake Island, when he did nothing to stand up to them. He could have removed the bracelets, but he was too afraid to lose his hands. He could have asked Luffy for help, but instead beat him until he couldn’t get up and then refused to feed him for two days. Instead of being a man, he was a cowed child locked in an invisible iron mask, unable to breathe.
Luffy did save him, in the end. Sanji had thought about allowing the execution of the Vinsmokes to occur at his forced wedding, wiping them and himself out. No one would miss him. He was worthless, after all. But he’d had food and he’d remembered that Luffy was starving himself, so he’d gone to his captain, lost and suicidal. Luffy had helped him, and Sanji was grateful. He’d promised himself that Luffy’s rescue would not be in vain.
It was easier said than done. Sanji struggled with the depression that accompanied him wherever he went. He couldn’t simply forget the feeling of worthlessness that settled around his shoulders like a shroud. He’d always had trouble with his own self-worth, trying to please everyone all the time in hopes that they might like him in return. He believed other people’s lives were more important than his and that he should be the one to offer himself on the chopping block if need arose. He had tried, more than once, to do so only for his self-sacrifices to fail. He couldn’t even get that right.
Wano had provided enough of a distraction that he couldn’t wallow in his self-flagellating thoughts, and by the time of the raid, he’d thought maybe he’d put Whole Cake Island behind him. Then, the genetic modifications Judge Vinsmoke had forced upon his children in the womb had kicked in, turning Sanji into something he hated. Fear and self-loathing sent him spiraling into despair. Why couldn’t he escape these people? He’d lucked out in that he seemed to have kept his emotions, as evidenced by the depression gripping his throat, but he had still become one of them. Thoughts of ways to end his life danced continuously in his head for weeks. He kept reminding himself that the crew needed to be fed. He’d let Luffy starve once, he couldn’t do it again.
Things had gotten slightly better after they’d sailed from Wano, traveling to several small islands, interacting constantly with the crew. They had been separated for over a month before finally being together as a whole again. They fell back into a familiar rhythm that was comforting to Sanji. His thoughts of ending it all passed with time.
But now they were back, because the one thing that had remained with him since he was a child was his dream of finding All Blue. And he’d learned, today, that he was definitely going to find it. There was no question of it. Dr. Vegapunk had told them over the broadcast that aired around the world that All Blue would exist. Sanji would achieve his dream.
While the rest of the world drowned.
Sanji flicked his spent cigarette over the rail, contemplating the icy waves. He wondered how long it would take for him to succumb to the ocean. Would he float until sleep overcame him, or would he survive until he died from hunger? It would be fitting if it were the latter, as it was his dream that was going to cause everyone else to starve.
Dr. Vegapunk had told the world that the sea was rising and that there would be no more land. No more land meant no more fruit, vegetables, nuts, or legumes. With only fish to eat, people would die from scurvy and malnutrition. Without land, there would also be a lack of fresh water to drink. Rain barrels could only hold so much and space would be limited on a ship.
Maybe if Sanji no longer existed, All Blue would cease to exist as well. But he wasn’t the only one who believed in it. Zeff did; it was the reason he’d saved Sanji’s life to begin with, back when he was ten. They’d starved together on a rock for forty days, clinging to their dream. Zeff had sent Sanji off to find it, for the both of them. Now, Zeff probably realized the same thing as Sanji, that their dream came with a price that would destroy the world.
Sanji felt a sob building in his throat. He tried to hold it back. Crying wouldn’t do any good. It was a waste of water. But he couldn’t prevent its escape, no more than he could prevent the wind from blowing. Tears came hot and fast, body wracking as grief and misery poured out of him. He bent over the rail, the hard wood pressing into his gut, and screamed wordlessly in despair.
He didn’t hear the footsteps, didn’t know he wasn’t alone until strong arms were pulling him into an embrace. His arms were trapped between them. He couldn’t stop crying, sobs wrenching from his heart. His breaths came in convulsing gasps. His dream was going to kill them all.
It was unfair. Why was this happening? What did he do to deserve this? Was he that bad of a person? Was his father right, that everyone would have been better off if he’d never existed? How could he live knowing that other people were going to die for his dream?
Sanji’s anguish poured out of him in great, gulping shudders and unchecked wails. He cried for himself, for Zeff, for those he knew and everyone he didn’t. He hated that this was happening. He hated himself. He wanted everything to end so that maybe he could find peace.
The arms around him were solid, holding him together as he shattered apart inside. He knew who it was, knew the shape and size of the body from years of fighting and friendship. That it would be him to find Sanji breaking on the aft deck was fitting, as who else would be there when Sanji lost?
The snow battered Sanji’s shoulders. The wind whistled in his ears. The Sunny rocked on rough waves beneath his feet. His tears were slow to fade, his gasping breaths eventually steadying. When he finally could speak coherently again, he said in a raw whisper, “I don’t want to find All Blue anymore.”
“Then we won’t.”
There was no question as to why, no trying to talk him out of it. It was support, pure and simple. Sanji thought he might cry again, but he had no more tears to give. He dragged his gloved hand over his face, wiping the wetness away. The arms around him loosened but didn’t let go. Sanji finally lifted his head, feeling humiliation sweep over him. “This is embarrassing.”
“No, it’s not,” Zoro told him firmly. His black eye met Sanji’s without recrimination or gloating. All Sanji could see was caring and concern. “I’d rather see you cry a million tears than not feel anything.”
Sanji remembered Zoro’s promise to end him if he stopped having emotions like his brothers. “Told you not to worry about that anymore.”
“Since when do I listen to you?” Zoro curved his arm around Sanji’s shoulder, guiding him inside through the infirmary door. The sudden warmth and lack of noise from the gusting wind made Sanji tense. Outside, in the turbulent weather, emotional exposure could be whipped away by the wind. Inside, there was nothing to hide behind.
Zoro led him to the couch in the galley that ran the length of the wall between the infirmary and storage. He made Sanji sit and then took the dining chair across from him, spinning the bolted swivel seat around. Sanji pulled off his gloves, shed his coat, and let it fall into a bunch behind him. He sat on the edge of the couch, posture hunched, head hanging, his hands clasped between his knees.
The galley was empty, the sconce lighting above their heads chasing away the dark. A bar divided the space between the kitchen and dining area. The dining table had seating for eight. The kitchen held the best amenities. It was Sanji’s domain, his intimate space that he occasionally shared with his friends, putting his heart and soul into the meals he cooked for them.
Zoro unbuttoned his winter jacket and dropped it on the back of the chair beside him before leaning forward. He rested his forearms on his thighs. They sat knee-to-knee. “Tell me.”
Of course Zoro would demand rather than ask, but Sanji knew this was Zoro’s way of showing how much he cared. On the surface, they didn’t always get along, but underneath their bond was unshakable. That was why Sanji knew, back in Wano, that he could ask Zoro to kill him if necessary and that Zoro would agree.
So Sanji told him. Without looking up, he told Zoro about Vegapunk’s message and what it meant. About it being the final string that unraveled what was still holding him together these past months. About the Vinsmoke family and what they’d done to his head. About the fact that he had to fight himself every day to not end it all.
Zoro listened attentively, never interrupting, until Sanji ran out of words to say. The quiet folded around them, Sanji’s feelings of inadequacy, of doubt, of self-loathing littering the floor by their feet. Sanji felt laid bare, bruised, and broken. He couldn’t lift his head.
“You know,” Zoro began quietly, “back on Egghead, Lucci told me that I was a burden to the crew. That I was useless, an appendage you guys should cut off to make yourselves stronger. Then, your voice came over the radio, calling me a burden, too.”
Sanji winced with guilt, even though he hadn’t meant it that way. He clasped his hands tighter between his knees.
“Lucci’s words didn’t bother me. I knew he was full of shit. But when you said it, it hurt. I thought maybe what Lucci said was right. When I thought about it more, I realized that I don’t have a purpose for being on the crew.” Zoro’s voice sounded tight. “You all have a position, a thing that you do that helps keep us going. Franky and Usopp keep us afloat, Robin, Nami and now Jinbe keep us on course. Chopper keeps us healthy, you keep us fed, Brook gives us music, and Luffy gives us hope. But me? I train. I nap. I eat. I fight. But so does everyone else. There’s nothing that I contribute to the crew itself.”
“Zoro–”
“No, let me finish,” Zoro cut him off. “I know that I’m not a burden. I’m meant to carry burdens. For you, for the others. Sometimes I’m meant to fight them, other times I’m meant to hold on. That’s my purpose. I know that now.” He reached out to capture Sanji’s hands between his own. “Let me help you carry yours.”
Sanji felt his throat tighten again. He looked at their hands, so similar yet so different. Both strong and capable, able to hold them up against the toughest enemies. Yet at the moment, Sanji’s hands felt small and weak. He didn’t think he could hold himself up anymore. But he didn’t have to, did he? Zoro’s hands were reaching out to help him, to pick him up, to carry him through to the other side. He only had to allow it.
Sanjo leaned forward, allowing his forehead to rest on Zoro’s shoulder. “I need a new dream,” he murmured. He could still see Zoro’s hands clasping his own.
“I have one for you,” Zoro said, his throat thickening with emotion. “Live.”
Sanji closed his eyes. It seemed so simple. Live. But Sanji knew the dream Zoro had given him would be hard. He’d been teetering on the brink for months and the news of All Blue had shattered him to the core. He’d have to fight his worst enemy: himself.
But he wouldn’t be alone. Zoro would be with him, fighting for him and holding on, helping to carry him to his new dream.
“What do you think?” Zoro asked, squeezing Sanji’s hands encouragingly.
“I’ll do it,” Sanji told him, raising his head to meet Zoro’s caring gaze and the challenge Zoro had gifted to him. “I’ll live.”
End