Hallucinations

A One Piece short story.

Summary: Sanji decides to tell his story. After an encounter with marines, he isn't the same again. Driven by his undeniable rage encouraged by a devil fruit and the monster inside him, he does the one thing he would never think imaginable: he kills one of his own nakama.

Warnings: This has language, character death, and suicide. If you don't like, don't read.

It's funny, how pride gets in the way of the little things. It consumes you like an angry beast, devours the beauty in us humans and makes us monsters. Heh. What an interesting term. Monster. Sometimes we don't know when we're a monster ourselves.

How did it even start… oh yeah. We had just embarked from the last island… full of supplies and hope for our next destination… when I woke up to make breakfast. Nothing was abnormal about that. I always wake up at the same time, get dressed, and make my way to the kitchen. I usually wave at whoever is on watch (except if it's Marimo) and go about my daily routine.

Why was this time any different?

Let's see… I got ready to cook, per usual. I got out all the pans and utensils, got the fire ready. I even lit my cigarette in the kindling embers because hell, I felt like I needed one. I had no idea what was to come.

I went to the pantry, thrumming with the music of a chef at work, only for the music notes to crash into another, and the symphony slid into a screeching halt. The night before, floor to ceiling, was enough supplies to last month's easily. There wasn't even a speck on the floor remaining.

I guess I can't say it was pride. It was more like I was a wounded animal, shot but still capable of running. I was upset everything was gone. As a chef, I felt my heart tighten. But then that wild side of me came out and I was burning with rage. On a ship with nine people, it isn't hard to narrow down the possibilities. Luffy probably got into the pantry, again.

But I didn't handle it the same.

Sometimes, Ace visits us in between his searches for Blackbeard. When he sits at our table, in my seat, he talks about living without any regrets. I usually would lean against the wall and laugh when his narcolepsy took hold.

I probably should have paid more attention to his words.

You see, when you live with regrets, it feels like someone tied a hundred pound anchor to your foot and told you to walk on water. You just can't do it, no matter how hard you try. You'll take the challenge like any man and dare yourself to do it—but your first step will always make you sink in your guilt

I should know.

I'll try not to get side tract though… I wouldn't make much of a story teller… that's more of Usopp's thing... was anyway. Let me continue.

Like I said before, I didn't handle it like normal. By normal I mean beating Luffy's ass, maybe tossing him overboard before demanding him and his accomplices fish to restock the stolen property. I don't know why this time out of a hundred had to be different.

But I regret every second of it.

I marched out the galley, a whole mixture of angry and upset. I had seen Zeff like that only once before, when we walked by a restaurant and saw all the wasted food rotting in the garbage. It's an angry little monster to look at, makes you scared to be around them. That was me, heading to the boys bunk like the devil lit a fire under me and I was out for blood.

They were all sleeping, peaceful, like nothing was messed up in my world. I wasn't in the right mind to deal with that serenity, when my night had been plagued of reminders of that stupid rock and the horrible, wrenching bite of starvation. Even as I stood over Luffy's sleeping figure, I felt it; the raw sting in my belly that hardened my heart, raised my foot, and slammed it into his chest.

"Get up you fucker." I had said, low and threatening, the smoke from my cigarette spilling out of my nostrils.

The picture of a monster.

It wasn't surprising that Luffy of all people could sleep through my kick, but it only added fuel to the flame. It pissed me off to think I wasn't even strong enough to make him roll over.

Anger is a lot like fire. It's useful when controlled in quantities, like Ace's devil fruit; but when you're knocked out and you lose that control, it's dangerous.

I lost control that day. I lost every bit of it when I woke up that morning, bitterly remembering a past that couldn't change. Maybe it was my pride that refused to let me forget. I wanted to be reminded each and every day when the sun woke up and when the sun passed out that starvation almost got me once—and I couldn't let it happen to my nakama. That sounds about right.

Anyway… I kicked Luffy again. He snored, wrapped an arm around a pillow and didn't stir again.

That was enough to unleash the monster.

I was so, so angry; and I don't know why. The Marimo hadn't pissed me off. The ladies hadn't tortured me with ruthless butlering; even Usopp managed to stay on my good side or avoided me all together. It was like I harbored all this hate in my heart and it just came out.

I kicked Luffy. Again. Again. Again. To the face. The stomach. The chest, the arms, the legs, anywhere I could reach. He woke up by the second one, but received ten more before he was coherent enough to grab my leg.

"Sanji! What are you doing?!" He had demanded, a worried look in his eyes. Had I been in a better mind, I would have had a better response.

"You ate all the food." I had accused, and the sight of his eyebrows furrowing like he didn't understand what I was talking about only ticked me off more. I yanked him up by the back of his shirt. "My pantry is wiped clean. Who else is a bigger dumb ass that would do that?"

"Sanji, I don't know what you're talking about. I didn't get up and eat." It's rare when his voice is solemn, but it was then, knowing he needed to be serious and handle my rage with care. Too bad, he didn't handle it enough.

By now everyone else was awake and the lights were on, but I felt no difference with an audience.

"Do you want us to starve, is that it? Is that how you want us to die?"

On a boat, not a rock. With nakama, not a cranky old man with the biggest heart I know. There would be no huge bag of gold that I would mistake for his greed; there would be no knife in my apron, no murder attempt. It will just be me and my nakama, starving, on a ship destined for fruitless dreams.

Yeah, that didn't help.

"Sanji! He didn't steal anything I swear. He's been here this entire time." Usopp had squeaked when I looked at him, like he had seen the devil standing in my shoes. Maybe he really had.

"What's got your panties in a twist ero-cook?" I never caught the Marimo off guard, ever, but I did then, my heel nailing the center of his throat, knocking him back into Franky. It barely felt like I even moved.

"S-Sanji calm down please…" Chopper had pleaded, and I did; it was just a little, and it would have been enough, if what happened afterwards didn't happen at all.

Luffy had grabbed both my arms, and held me hard, staring me straight in the eyes like he could find the answers written there. "What's wrong?"

"What's wrong?" I had laughed. "I'm tired of this. I'm tired of you people just eating all the food and expect me to perform miracles. I don't want to starve again, and I especially don't want my nakama starve because of a bunch of idiots like you ate all the food."

"Sanji, please, listen. You're still under the effects of that devil fruit." Chopper had said, separating Luffy from me. "We all just need to take it easy."

Ah yes. I knew there was a part of the story I left out. You know how the Straw Hats are; wherever we go, trouble always finds us. This particular encounter was a marine—a girl at that—intent on turning us in. We all thought it was the funniest joke we heard.

That was until she touched Nami-swan.

I hated the sound of girl's screaming, but her shriek that day was like nails on a chalkboard, ceaselessly scratching. She thought she saw Arlong in Luffy; saw Hatchi in Zoro; saw Kuroobi in me. She said she saw Arlong shooting Belle-mere, saw Hatchi cut off Nojiko's head, saw Kuroobi ripping Genzo limb from limb. We spent so much time trying to calm her down that the marine disappeared.

But then she touched me.

I was back on the rock and the starvation was like a desert storm in my stomach and the knife was in my hands. Before I came to, Zoro blocked the very attack I had reserved for Zeff, holding onto my arm so tight that the pain broke through the illusion and I was standing facing my nakama, a knife held loosely in my hand.

It helps when you have all parts of the story doesn't it? But at the time, I didn't think it had reference to anything—it was just Chopper stalling the inevitable.

"Bullshit." I had said, but before Chopper could diffuse the situation, I was out the door, trying my best to resist the urge to pound my foot into the mast. I wouldn't get to, even if I wanted to, because I didn't get more than a couple feet before my arm was grabbed and I turned to see that stupid Marimo, acting like he gives two fucks about me when I know he doesn't.

"You need to calm down."

I had smirked when I saw that bruise forming at his Adam's apple. It made a nice addition to his hair, and I told him so. He had narrowed his eyes.

"You're not in your right mind cook. You need to snap out of it. That devil fruit messed you up bad."

I wouldn't blame it on the devil fruit. I would blame it on an empty storage room that maybe was never empty at all. Maybe I had hallucinated it, but I wasn't in the mood to get second opinions.

Before I could turn to avoid his moss headedness, I see the rest of the boys had surrounded me, not prepared to let the beast run free.

Maybe it was pride. Maybe it was a fucking devil fruit. Or maybe it was just the monster of my anger, the buried anger I keep deep inside of me that has festered too long, like that wasted food in the garbage bins.

"Get out of my fucking way."

It was the only warning I would give.

I wish I would've given one more.

"No Sanji." Luffy had crosses his arms. "You need to rest. We'll worry about the food."

Telling me no snapped the cage—broke the monster free. My foot moved on instinct, faster than I've ever seen my own bodygo, and snapped into the nearest face: Usopp. I put so much power into the kick, that even beneath my boot I felt the crack before the sharpshooter was launched in the air, so far he surely would have gone overboard if Luffy hadn't had the mind to stretch and catch him.

It felt nice, the contact. It reminded me of the time we went to the Franky House, intent on getting revenge on our nakama, and the way the goons just seemed to fall apart beneath my feet.

If that's not a monster, I don't know what is.

"Usopp!" Chopper had shrieked, but I knew he was fine. He always was.

But this time, he wasn't.

They ran Usopp off to the infirmary, but I heard the shriek as if they had been beside me.

He's dead.

I disconnected his skull from his spine as if I was kicking a stick. Snap, and he was gone, because I was angry and couldn't control myself. Maybe it was pride. Maybe it was a devil fruit, or maybe it was the monster. I didn't stay to find out.

I went to the galley, locked myself inside and simmered down into an uneasy sleep.

Ace met me in my dreams over a bowl of rice. He told me I didn't live my life without regrets, as if it was already over. He smiled at me, and then he was out, slumped over the bowl of rice. I tried to shake him awake, but he didn't budge. When I pulled away, it wasn't Ace anymore, but Usopp, blood leaking from his mouth, and his head twisted in such an odd direction that I bit my hand sharply.

That's how I woke up, with my hand in my mouth, stifling a scream.

What a messed up dream I had thought. I felt a lot better, although I wasn't aware what time of day it was. The linger effects of that fight with the marine had finally worn off, and I was ready to approach the crew with a much more pleasant demeanor.

I only made it out the door when I remembered.

They had laid Usopp's body out, with flowers from the garden and a little carving of the Merry-Go Franky had given to him. I could feel Ace right next to me, standing over my shoulder, frowning.

"You didn't live your life without regrets Sanji."

Usopp was dead.

I had killed him.

I killed my own nakama, for what reason? I couldn't find a good enough one. My pride was selfish. The devil fruit was an excuse. The only viable answer was that I was a monster. What else could I be, if I could ruthlessly kill the person I call nakama?

I threw up everything over the side of the ship, every last feeling of starvation and self-pity that remained leaving my body. How could I be so selfish, so self-centered?

My thoughts dwindled on Thriller Bark, when we were faced with a warlord we could not beat and it was between Zoro and me to who would be sacrificed.

Why couldn't it be me?

I couldn't stop looking at Usopp's body, the way it was so lifeless; how I kicked the very life out of him as if I was knocking a doll over. I'm a horrible, horrible monster. I could understand Ace's words now.

If I don't do something to fix this, I would regret it even more.

I had climbed the mast with an extra set of ropes, because maybe it was the pride.

Maybe it was the devil fruit.

Or maybe it was the monster.

That's the end of that story, because it leads up to this moment right now, where I stand on the rickety ends of the sail and stare out to the ocean, smoking a cigarette with the shittest noose ever made around my neck. If I didn't do something, Usopp would not be the only one. I had to protect my crew, no matter the costs.

I would regret not doing this.

I know that's what Ace was trying to say.

There's something sentimental in knowing you're about to die. You tend to look at the world with a tender fondness, because you know it's the last thing you'll see.

Deeply, I inhale the cigarette smoke, watching as the birds skip across the sky like smooth stones on the water. The wind would not blow me off the sail. I would jump on my own accord, soon. I'm just waiting for something.

At the next puff, it comes.

I could feel Zeff's presence behind me, and I turn to look at him, missing the long braided mustache and the chef's hat higher than his ego. I expect some comforting words.

Like I deserve them.

Instead, he looks at me and shakes his head, like he was looking at those cans full of worthless food. "What a waste."

He was talking about my life. About my stupid pride, about that stupid devil fruit, and about that stupid monster inside me.

I turn away and drop the cigarette.

"SANJI! SANJI WHAT ARE YOU DOING!"

"Stop! Sanji! Please!"

"Cook!"

"Sanji-kun!"

"SANJI!"

I take a step forward.

It feels like I would fall for an eternity, before the rope finally tightened and the noose constricted around my neck. I didn't die instantly—but before I did, I saw Usopp, screaming with the rest of them. And then my lungs couldn't breath and Ace and Zeff were shaking their heads at me, and I was gone.

Usopp was never dead to begin with.

I was trying to write Zosan fluff, and this came instead.

I know the grammar is choppy, but I just wanted the reader to get the feel of Sanji actually telling the story. I hope you enjoyed.

-Soul Spirit-