candy-of-doom - Sanji is buried deep underground in a small cave, his only way back blocked with rocks. He's smoking his last cigarette.
This isn't happy.
Warning for major character death.
Dark. Everything was completely dark. So dark he couldn't make out his feet, his hands, or the nose on his face.
He leaned against the recently formed wall of rock. It had started with a slight quake and ended with a crash so loud he may have gone deaf. He might have though he had, given the silence, but he could still hear the sound of his own breathing; air rushing in and out through his nose and mouth in an ever more gasping and desperate pattern.
Somewhere on the other side of this wall, Sanji hoped his nakama were not suffering the same fate. He'd tried calling for them, screaming to the sound proof wall, wasting precious oxygen, but if they heard him, he hadn't received a reply.
He pulled his last cigarette from his pack. Already it was hard to breathe; the air this with the acrid smell of his previous cigarettes still hung thick in the air, having not dissipated at all in the air tight space.
He'd been an idiot to smoke them, an idiot to spend so much time shouting for his nakama, and now his minutes were numbered.
What harm was one last cigarette at this point?
He had a hard time getting the match to light; even fire couldn't breathe in this confined space. He managed after several tries, sparking a fire that hardly had any flame to it. He was quick to light the end of his cigarette before it finally fizzled out.
A throbbing in his left leg reminded him it was there. That was slightly comforting, he hadn't been able to feel the right one in quite some time. He'd attempted to free himself from his prison when he'd first been trapped; another wasted effort. Something had happened then, something that felt as if he'd lit his legs on fire, before the right finally went numb and the left subsided to a throbbing ache.
He was glad he couldn't see them.
He was dizzy now. The nicotine from his last cigarette seemed much more potent without oxygen hanging around. Every drag from the small stick hit him hard like one of Zoro's weights.
He couldn't see straight. Not that he could see at all in the blank darkness, but he could feel the spinning in his head begin to upset his balance.
His eyes grew heavy. So heavy he could no longer see straight. Small stars and bursts of color flashed before his open eyes, and he was overcome with the strong desire to close them and see only darkness again. He'd wait patiently on his nakama, surely they'd be along soon to free him of his trap.
The spent cigarette fell from his slack mouth, and with that last spark of hope in his nakama, Sanji closed his eyes for good.