Last Request

By The Chichi Slaughter House

Warnings: Strong death/suicidal themes, asphyxiation, mild ZoroxSanji.

Disclaimer: I don't own One Piece, and thank shit I don't. I hope that this kind of scenario never happens!!

Rating: R

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If anything, he had always thought the shitty swordsman would have been the first to die. The complete and utter recklessness of the man in battle was certainly asking for an early grave, and yet he was the first to go. The cook, who actually took damned good care of himself and them all.

And it wasn't even in battle, dammit.

A fucking tumour. Just one small, barely significant lump of cells was going to be his downfall, leaving the cook to die without having accomplished even one of the goals he'd set himself in life. He had never seen All Blue, never managed to win Nami over, never even got a bounty higher than Zoro's (this was one of his more private goals).

He was only just twenty years old, too. If Zeff knew, he was sure the old fart would have been shouting at him and calling him a lil eggplant, even to the end. Probably with tears in his eyes whilst clutching at his shoulders. He could imagine it now clear as day, even though the two of them had never really had a close relationship.

He hadn't wanted the old man to see, and the rest of the crew had honoured his wishes, promising to deliver a letter to him later on. Hell, he hadn't wanted them to watch him wither away slowly either, but they had refused to leave his side, Luffy declaring that no matter how long it took, they would be there beside him until the time came, just like with Merry. No matter what he had said, the captain had refused to let him off the ship, selfishly wanting to spend every last moment with him that he could.

Sanji didn't cook the meals anymore, either. That job had been taken over by Robin, who had learned some recipes from one of her many books and taught her extra hands to prepare it whilst she read. Not a single one of them had suggested getting a replacement for him, and whilst that was touching, he found himself worrying about their health instead of his own.

Time and time again, they had come into the kitchen to see him trying to cook, his efforts ruined as headache after headache would roll over him and stop him from carrying on. Never before had he ever felt so useless to them as he did now, but no one would let him do one thing by himself, Nami even going so far as to offer to help him with his 'business'. But, as he knew it was entirely out of pity, he had firmly declined her offers, putting on a brave smile and waving as she would hesitantly leave.

Every day a different crew member would come to visit him, and he could see the pity and sadness in their eyes increasing over time. And he hated it. He had damn well wanted to leave their lives with a smile on his face, looking as proud and as strong as ever, but he knew they were going to remember him sitting weakly in that bed and clutching at his head in agony every so often.

The only person who didn't seem to think any differently of him was Zoro. Even Luffy had become more stressed out with the situation over time, which had almost crushed Sanji. One by one it seemed they were forgetting who he was and acting differently, and whilst he could fully understand that it was tough on them to see him this way, it didn't mean that it wasn't damn hard on him too. He knew they weren't trying to change their actions, but they were just trying to do what they thought was best.

Thankfully Zoro wasn't like that, and the hours they spent together were exactly as if it was a few months before. They did their best to piss each other off about everything, and the swordsman even withdrew his swords to fight him when Sanji was particularly feeling like it. It was Zoro that was keeping him sane through all of this shit. And to his disbelief, he had realised that he had nothing else. His nakama were slowly becoming strangers, his health depleting far more quickly than usual and his dreams now unattainable.

There was nothing left for him here but to sit and wait for the hour that death would finally see fit to claim him.

But he didn't want to wait anymore.

Hearing the door creak open, he turned his head to look upon the swordsman, forcing a cocky smirk onto his lips.

"Didn't think it'd be you today marimo." He chuckled, beckoning Zoro over as usual, his heart beating faster as the healthy body sat on the side of the bed. His pulse was racing with the need for an outlet; some sort of relief from the suffering he was going through. The green-haired swordsman was his punching bag. His companion, his confidant. If he needed something, he knew he could ask Zoro for it and the other man would do it. Anyone else might flinch away, but… "…Kill me, please."

It almost shocked the blonde how quickly the swordsman climbed onto the bed and pinned him down, holding his legs with his knees and his arms with his elbows as the large hands wrapped themselves around his neck. Closing his eyes, he allowed himself to relax, wanting it over and done with as quickly as possible. As the grip got tight, Sanji stayed entirely calm, it feeling exactly as he thought it would have.

Bit by bit his brain began to cloud over as he gasped softly for air, not opening his eyes once in case Zoro mistook it as an attempt to continue to live. Slowly he felt his lungs start to burn, the feeling making him want to jerk away instinctively, though neither he nor Zoro would allow it.

Finally he could feel himself start to black out. Any fight that he might have had left in him died in this instant as he went weak and limp under the swordsman's grip, a half-smile on his face as he drifted out of his final consciousness.

The last things Sanji ever felt were Zoro's lips on his own and his hands round his throat. Then he was gone.