I know I have a lot unfinished, but consider this a warm-up. Also, sometimes it's nice to write something that doesn't have a huge plot...
As always, a HUGE thank you to everyone that takes the time to review my fics. I really appreciate the feedback.
Warning: This fic contains graphic depictions of torture, specifically to the hands. It also contains spoilers for the arc following Dressrosa, which is out in the manga but I don't believe has been covered in the anime.
This fic is rated M.
I do not own One Piece.
Someone must have had a death wish, because they were smoking Sanji's cigarettes. And they weren't the cheap, crappy, throat-burning ones that he would leave laying around. No, these were the nice ones with the nostalgic smell. The brand that for the longest time he thought he could only find in the East Blue. He had been near ecstatic when he'd run across them at a market in the New World. He had bought a pack—with the inflated price, one had been all he could afford—and squirreled it away, hoarding them for whenever he felt he deserved one. And now, some sorry bastard was smoking them, filling the space with the scent of home.
Not that he could see the poor, doomed idiot. There was a bag over his head.
Sanji huffed an irritated breath and squirmed in his seat. He couldn't move and had no idea how he'd gotten to…wherever the hell he was. All he knew was that he was tied to a chair. Rope circled tightly around his wrists, ankles, and chest, holding him in place with no hope for escape. Sanji was trapped, there was a bag over his head, and someone was smoking his favorite cigarettes. Not his favorite combination of things.
"So, are you actually going to do anything or were you just planning on smoking all of my cigarettes, you shitty fucker?" asked Sanji, hoping that his mystery captor could hear the venomous snarl that was hidden by the bag.
No response.
Sanji twisted his wrists in their bonds, hissing when he felt the rope cut into his skin. He was getting tired of the silence. Fast. He squirmed in his seat again.
"Oh, come on! At least take off the shitty bag so I can see your ugly face!"
Sanji heard someone whisper something and the rustle of fabric, accompanied by footsteps on a wooden floor. Then a cloud of fragrant smoke blew in his face through the weave of the bag.
"You miserable bastard!" snapped Sanji. "I'm gonna make you eat that—aaaaargh!"
His words were cut short as he felt the sleeve on his left arm yanked up and the lit end of a cigarette ground into his flesh.
Sanji threw his head back, biting his lip in an attempt to keep from making any sound that would betray the pain he felt. A task that became considerably more difficult with every passing moment that it burned into his forearm. Sanji strained against his bonds, hissing through his teeth when he felt it removed and placed in a new location, leaving a matching second mark next to the first. This continued for several minutes, each burn hurting a little more than the last. Sanji's arm felt like it was on fire, his skin crawling from the painful itch of untreated shallow wounds. Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, Sanji could take no more. The cigarette alighted onto the tender flesh near his wrist and Sanji screamed.
That must have been what his captor wanted, because it was then that his torment stopped. Sanji slumped in his chair, doing his best to catch his breath through the cloth of the bag. His arm hurt so badly, but he knew he wasn't out of the woods yet. He heard his captor walk away from him and another murmured order that he couldn't quite make out. This was starting to get really annoying.
"Are you guys just gonna whisper sweet nothings to each other all day?" asked Sanji, moderately pleased that his voice didn't betray the pain he felt. "I'm starting to feel left out."
Sanji heard a muttered "do it" and then a fist suddenly connected with the side of his head with enough force to jolt his entire body to the side. The chair didn't move though. It must have been bolted to the floor. These fucking bastards were prepared.
Sanji's left ear was ringing as he tried his best to regain his bearings, only to be thrown off balance again by a punch to his right cheek. Sanji swore loudly as his head snapped to the side and was met by another set of knuckles, this time connecting with his chin. Sanji sucked in a deep breath, bracing himself as best as he could against attacks that he couldn't see coming. He supposed that he should at least be grateful that the damned coward that was beating him wasn't wearing any rings or brass knuckles. The bare-fisted beating was doing enough damage on its own. Already, Sanji could feel his right eye swelling shut, his sweaty fringe of hair stinging his flesh. There were bruises blossoming along his jaw and the ridge of his left brow line was definitely split and bleeding. That along with his lip and possibly the inside of his mouth. Sanji wasn't entirely sure where it was coming from, but he could taste blood. If this guy was this good with his bare hands, Sanji was certain that the addition of metal would have permanently disfigured him. And then he couldn't have been his dashing, handsome self for Nami and Robin anymore.
Sanji's heart leapt into his throat. Nami. Robin. The others. Where the hell was his crew?! Were they enduring this too? Sanji clenched his hands into fists, silently weathering the continued onslaught on his covered head. If these bastards had harmed even a single hair on any of his crewmates' heads, Sanji would see to it that every last one of them paid the price.
One last punch connected with his mouth, splitting his lip over his teeth, and then the beating stopped. Sanji did his best to catch his breath in the silence that followed, trying to gather his wits for whatever might happen next. He needed to stay calm for the others. He would be of no use to them if he didn't use his head.
Just as he was starting to feel like he might have a handle on his emotions, Sanji heard his captor return and felt the bag yanked violently from his head. Sanji swore loudly, blinking as bright light assaulted his vision. He shook his head a few times, trying to clear his eyes of the spots that danced in front of them, before looking around the room. The first thing he noticed was the absence of his crew. Either these bastards were holding them somewhere else or they hadn't managed to capture the other Straw Hats. Sanji wished that he knew, but given that he couldn't remember how he had gotten there in the first place, it was impossible. He would have to trust in their abilities to take care of themselves. They had all gotten stronger since entering the New World. Even if they were captured too, they could survive this and beat it.
Now Sanji just had to figure out just exactly what "this" was.
The room where he was being held had no distinguishing characteristics other than the chair he was tied to and a table in front of him. A lamp hung from a cord overhead, but it was shaded in such a way that its bright light only illuminated the space where he sat and a few feet beyond it, leaving the edges of the room obscured in darkness. The bastard that had beaten him was nowhere to be seen.
Sanji snarled, fresh blood staining his teeth as he pulled at his split lip.
"Are you hiding now?" asked Sanji, somehow managing a derisive smirk. "What, are you afraid of what I'll do to your pretty little face when I get out of this?"
A figure appeared out of the darkness, looming large in Sanji's limited field of vision before a fist connected with his mouth again. Sanji's head snapped back from the impact, jarring his neck and shoulders.
"Fuck." Sanji spit some blood to the side. "What is with you and hitting me in the mouth? I think you knocked a tooth loose."
The man merely crossed his massive arms in front of his barrel-like chest and frowned down at Sanji, who glared right back at him. Judging by the broken skin over his knuckles, this was definitely the bastard that had beaten him earlier. Then Sanji noticed the pack of cigarettes tucked into the man's rolled sleeve. His cigarettes. The East Blue ones.
"You know I'm going to make you pay me back for every one of those that you smoked," said Sanji. He glanced down, noting the half a pack worth of spent cigarettes at the man's feet. "With interest."
The man still said nothing. He didn't even twitch. Sanji scowled up at him. The bastard was big and intimidating, he would give him that. But there was no way that he was in charge. Sanji was beginning to wonder if he was even capable of stringing a sentence together.
"Okay, motormouth, where is your boss? Can you get him for me?"
No answer.
"Run along now. See, I would get him myself, but you've tied me to this chair."
Nothing.
"Time's a-wasting," goaded Sanji, waggling his fingers at the man. "Go on, now."
The man's frown deepened slightly, but still no answer. Sanji could feel himself losing patience.
"We aren't getting any younger, here. You might be getting uglier, though."
Silence.
Sanji clenched his jaw. He was tired of this already.
"I demand to speak with whoever is in charge right now!"
Someone chuckled from the darkness and Sanji snapped his head in their direction.
"My, my. So impatient. So demanding."
Sanji's blood ran cold. That voice.
Its owner stepped just far enough out of the shadows for Sanji to recognize his silhouette but not to see his face. Sanji could feel himself begin to shake as the man spoke again.
"Said like a true Vinsmoke. You really are my son. You know, for a moment there, I was afraid we had picked up the wrong man."
Sanji's breath froze in his lungs, congealing into a solid mass that made it impossible for him to draw more air in. He had thought he was safe. That he had run far enough. That that world was behind him and these people out of his life forever. Apparently, he had been wrong.
"How—" Sanji licked his lips as a wave of nausea washed over him. "How did you find me?"
"What makes you think we ever lost you?"
For a moment, Sanji felt like his heart had stopped completely. But that meant…Zeff, the Baratie cooks, Luffy and the rest of his crew.
Sanji's eyes widened. "The others—?"
"Your little pirate friends?" The mocking in his father's voice cut to Sanji's very core. "They are of no concern to you now."
"You didn't…" Sanji could hear the desperation in his voice, but he didn't care. "Th-They're not…"
"No, they are not dead," said his father. "In fact, they still run free. I intend for you to choose to be loyal to your family. Otherwise, you are of no use to me."
"You aren't my family, they are," Sanji bit back, some of his bravado returning with the knowledge that the other Straw Hats were safe. "I would never choose you over them."
"We'll see about that."
Sanji saw his father's silhouette nod to the giant brute next to him. He did his best to maintain the threatening glare that he cast in his father's direction as the nameless Vinsmoke family grunt pulled a chair up so it sat by his left knee and took a seat. Sanji was mostly successful, only sparing the briefest glance at the bag the man dropped onto the table. Based on the loud thud it made, it was full of heavy metal tools.
"There is nothing you can do to me to make me leave my crew," said Sanji, his voice firm despite the fact that his heart felt like it was in his throat.
His father hummed. "You are the ship's cook, are you not?"
The man in the chair slowly reached out and wrapped his hand around Sanji's little finger. Sanji felt his heart stop. This was bad. This was so very bad. He wouldn't—
His father's voice never wavered. "Such a profession seems a little below someone of your birth, don't you think?"
Sanji barely managed a breathless "no" before the man sharply twisted his wrist. Sanji felt the vibration of the delicate bones in his finger breaking all the way up his arm. He cried out, his voice echoing off the walls of the darkened room. It hurt so fucking badly. Worse than he could have ever imagined. He choked out a sob as he felt the man let go, leaving his little finger bent at an odd angle, and took hold of his ring finger.
"Now, tell me again," said his father. "Where do your loyalties lie?"
Sanji sucked in a breath, bracing himself.
"With Luffy."
Snap.
Sanji cried out more loudly this time, feeling his finger break in at least two places from the way the man twisted it. His shoulders shook as an intense shiver ran through his body and he had to take several deep breaths to regain control. Sanji refused to let them see him break. Not yet. He still had eight functioning fingers left. Nonetheless, he couldn't bring himself to look at the damage done when the man let go, now closing his hand around Sanji's middle finger. His father waited for his sobbing to subside before speaking again.
"You know me well enough to know that having every single one of your fingers broken causes me no pain. What does hurt me, however, is your betrayal."
Sanji couldn't help the whimper that slipped past his lips when the man's grip on his finger tightened.
"So, we'll take this a little more slowly this time," continued his father. "To whom do you owe your allegiance?"
"Luffy."
His father's henchman set an agonizingly slow pace this time, taking long enough for panic to set in as Sanji waited for the inevitable pain. Tears sprang to Sanji's eyes, rolling down his cheeks as he first felt his tendons slip and pop, then his joints dislocate, and the finally his bones break with a resounding snap. Sanji didn't realize that he was screaming until his throat began to hurt or that he had clenched his right hand into a fist until his nails broke the tender flesh in his palm. He sobbed loudly as the man let go, moving onto his index finger. Sanji's heart was pounding harder than it ever had before, seemingly throwing itself against the inside of his ribcage. He had to make his father understand; had to make him see how important his crew was to him.
"I-I'll never betray him," stuttered Sanji, fixing a tearful glare on his father's shadowed figure. "Luffy is the man who will be the Pirate King!"
The man didn't wait for a signal from Sanji's father this time, breaking his finger with a quick jerk of his hand. Tears and snot mixed with the blood in Sanji's mouth, coating his tongue and clogging his throat so he choked on his scream. Why hadn't he waited? Why hadn't he listened? What did he have to say to make his father understand? Sanji let out a strangled sob and slumped in his chair, only held up by the ropes around his chest as he felt the meaty hand grasp his thumb.
"You have long outgrown this childish adventure game you've been playing," said Sanji's father, his voice cold. "It is time that you pledge yourself to my flag again."
Sanji weakly shook his head, unable to even lift his chin to look at his father. He choked back another sob. His arms and legs were trembling violently, but he still couldn't do what his father wanted.
"Never."
Sanji's thumb broke with a little more difficulty, drawing a loud scream from him as it was dislocated and then broken. His entire body shook from the pain, trembling with enough force to make the bolts holding his chair to the floor rattle. Sanji tried to open his eyes so he could see the damage that had been done, but his hair clung to the blood and tears on his cheeks and sweat stung his eyes, obscuring his vision almost completely. His left hand was useless now. He doubted that it would ever work properly again. And yet, he knew that this still wasn't over. He felt more than saw the man stand up and carry his chair to his right side, settling down next to him once again. Hopelessness was starting to take hold. Sanji wasn't sure he could endure this for much longer.
"Well, that was disappointing," Sanji heard his father say. He felt the man dig his fingers into his tightly curled fist, struggling for a moment to pry his fingers painfully apart and then finally closing his freed little finger in a firm grip. "Perhaps you will have had a change of heart."
"You don't understand," said Sanji, his voice trembling. Why didn't he understand? Why couldn't he see? "I've forsaken your name. I'm….I'm never coming back…"
He cried out again as the man broke his little finger, but somehow managed to compose himself a little more quickly than before. He sucked in one ragged breath after another, clenching his jaw so tightly that his teeth hurt.
"L-Luffy…" Sanji squeezed his eyes shut, pressing fresh tears from them as if that would help to make the pain go away. The Vinsmoke henchman already had his ring finger in his grasp. "…Luffy and the others...they're—they're my family."
The ring finger on Sanji's right hand broke as easily as the one on his left. Sanji screamed again, just like he had every other time. His throat hurt so badly, but he barely noticed. His hands were far worse. By now, his breathing was coming in ragged gasps, punctuated occasionally by a broken sob. He was having a hard time putting his thoughts in order. Everything revolved around how much this hurt; how he wouldn't be able to cook; how he had let down his crew.
"You're a sick son of a bitch, you know that?" Sanji finally managed, shivering as he felt his father's henchman caress his middle finger. He was beginning to get dizzy and knew that shock was setting in. "Who…Who the hell does this to his own son?!"
"The way I see it…" Sanji's father paused, silently watching as his man broke his son's middle finger. "…you're doing this to yourself."
Sanji renewed his sobbing, hanging his head when the man took hold of his index finger. His shoulders shook with every painful breath and the rest of his body's trembling made the ropes around his chest feel way too tight. His father continued to speak.
"I have given you the opportunity to make this stop time and time again. All you have to do is give up this small time pirate life and return to me. This is not so hard. In fact, it should be an easy decision. And yet, you continue to deny me. So…"
The man slowly began to twist Sanji's finger.
"…will you leave these Straw Hat Pirates and return to me?"
A violent shudder shook Sanji's body. "No."
The man broke Sanji's finger with enough force that he felt his wrist pop. Sanji shrieked again, feeling fresh fiery pain lance all the way up to his shoulder. It hurt so goddamn much. He couldn't take it anymore. Sanji's arm jerked violently in its bonds when he felt the man grab his thumb. He heard the man chuckle—the only noise he'd made so far—and give his thumb a slight squeeze. Sanji shook his head, his shoulders trembling.
"Why do you shake your head?" asked his father, a hint of mocking slipping into his voice. "Do you want me to stop?"
Sanji hesitated for a moment and then nodded. He didn't just want him to stop. He needed him to stop. Anymore of this, and he was certain he would die.
"Have you changed your answer? Will you follow me?"
Sanji let out a gut wrenching sob, fresh tears streaming down his cheeks and dripping from his chin. "N-No…"
"Very well."
Sanji's father spoke and his man broke Sanji's thumb, leaving his hands destroyed and useless. Sanji screamed loudly, leaning as far forward in the chair as the ropes around his chest would allow, trying desperately to curl in on himself. At this rate, the best he could hope for was that his father would kill him. Sanji seriously doubted that he would ever let him go.
For several minutes that felt like hours, Sanji was left to simply cry. He could feel his father and his henchman watching him, but he couldn't stop his tears. They ran over his cheeks and down the back of his throat; soaked the hair in his face and dripped onto his bloodied shirt. His arms quivered in their bonds, his hands more closely resembling deformed claws than a chef's most prized tools. Just thinking about how ruined they were made Sanji feel sick and he had to swallow hard to keep from throwing up. The one time that he did manage to open his eyes, he only made it as far as his forearm before he had to close them again. Had he not been in so much pain, he might have sarcastically congratulated his father's crony on burning such a perfect spiral into his flesh. The perfect brand. As if the shitty family resemblance weren't enough. Hate and resentment and bitter exhaustion swelled inside of Sanji, numbing him to just a tiny amount of his pain and finally allowing his tears to slow.
"Please," begged Sanji, looking toward his father's shadowed shape with tear-filled eyes. "Please, let me go. Please let me return to my crew. I…I promise we won't interfere with you. Please. Just let me go home."
His father shook his head. "You still haven't learned. Very well…"
Sanji's father waved his hand and the henchman stood and pulled the bag on the table toward him. He dug around inside of it for several minutes until he found what he'd been looking for. The man sneered at Sanji as he pulled a set of heavy, industrial shears from the bag.
Sanji shook his head, watching with wide eyes as the man circled the table so he was standing on his left side again. No. No, no, no, no. This couldn't happen. They couldn't do this.
"No. No, please. Stop this. Please." Sanji choked on his words as a sob shook his body. "Please. P-Please, don't…"
His father watched emotionlessly as his henchman placed Sanji's twisted little finger between the blades. Sanji continued to beg him to stop, pleading with every fiber of his being for mercy. For just some small amount of understanding. Sanji could feel his father's glare, his contempt searing his flesh from across the room.
"You will come to learn the meaning of family, Sanji," said the patriarch of the Vinsmoke family, "even if I have to take away everything you hold dear."
Before Sanji could respond, his father gave the signal and the shears closed around his finger.
Sanji sat up with a loud gasp. He looked around with wide eyes, disoriented by the inky darkness around him. He could hear his heart hammering in his ears and began to panic when he felt something wrapped tightly around his legs. He tried to kick it away, only to become more entangled and fall from whatever he was on to the floor. Sanji grunted as he landed, laying perfectly still as his eyes adjusted to the darkness. There was no use panicking. At least he was no longer tied to that chair. Maybe he could escape.
Escape. How the hell was he going to do that when his hands were—?
Sanji stopped mid-thought as he began to recognize his surroundings. He was aboard the Sunny. He had just fallen from his own bunk and it was merely his blanket tangled around his legs. The next row of beds over, Chopper slept soundly, apparently unbothered by the noise he'd just made. Brook was on watch and Nami was likely asleep in the women's quarters. The rest of the crew was still in Dressrosa.
Sanji sighed, relaxing tense muscles one by one. It had been a dream.
He looked over to the couch to find Caesar staring at him rather intently. Even obscured by the dark, he looked far too amused for Sanji's liking.
"That was quite a nightmare," teased Caesar, grinning widely. "Are you nervous, perhaps? You know, Big Mom has some powerful allies…"
Sanji scowled at him as he stood, bundling up his blanket and dumping it back onto his bed.
"Shut up, you shitty sentient fart," snapped Sanji. He pulled on the shirt and pair of pants he had set out the night before and stalked toward the door. "Speak one word of this to anyone and I'll kick your sorry gaseous ass into the ocean."
Caesar continued snickering at him despite his threat as Sanji left the men's dormitory, quietly latching the door behind him. He quickly crossed the deck, seeking the welcoming comfort of his kitchen. The deepest part of night had ended, replaced by the pale grey of predawn. Sanji shivered as a breeze blew across the Sunny's deck, wrapping his arms protectively around himself. He needed to stay calm, stay strong for the others. They would reach Zou any day now and who knew what awaited them there.
His hands began to throb just as he reached the door to the galley, protesting against being pinned so tightly between his arms and his ribs. The last moments of his dream flashed before his eyes and Sanji hurriedly rushed into the kitchen. He shut the door behind him and leaned against it, pulling his hands out from under his arms to examine them.
He stared at them for a solid minute. They seemed fine. All of his fingers were still there. Sanji counted them off, one through ten, at least three times, ticking off each one with a slight flex of his respective finger. Then he turned his hands over, examining their front and back for any injury. Then he tested each finger, curling and straightening them; making a fist and then stretching them as far as he could.
His fingers were fine. All present and in perfect working order.
Sanji let go a shaky breath. His legs suddenly felt too weak to hold him and he sank to the floor, still leaning against the door.
"It was only a dream," he muttered to himself. He ran his hands through his hair several times, repeating the same words to himself like a mantra. "Only a dream. Only a dream. Only a dream."
Sanji licked his lips. Fuck, he needed to smoke. He reached into his pocket and pulled out his cigarettes, only to stop and stare at the packaging.
His East Blue brand.
Sanji quickly stood and crossed the kitchen to the storage. Using perhaps a little more force than he had intended, Sanji yanked open the drawer that held the dish towels, crammed his favorite cigarettes inside, and slammed it shut. Then he went to the cabinet and pulled out the cheapest and most toxic brand that he owned and lit one up. He inhaled several deep drags, choking and coughing as the smoke burned down the back of his throat and into his lungs. He smoked it as fast as he could, desperate for the nicotine. He had barely finished and ashed the first when he pulled a second from his pack, this time lighting it with a little more composure. Sanji leaned against the kitchen counter, smoking as he watched the sun rise through the port holes.
It had only been a dream. The Vinsmokes couldn't reach him; couldn't touch the family he had made for himself. He needed to put childish fears behind him and focus on the task at hand.
Sanji finished his second cigarette and lit up a third. He puffed on it for a moment more and then tucked the pack into his pocket. He would save his East Blue brand for when this was all said and done. When he'd seen Luffy and the others again. When his family was whole again.
Sanji rolled up his sleeves, automatically checking his forearm for signs of burns. Nothing.
He shook his head at himself. "It was only a dream, idiot. Be useful and make your friends some breakfast."
Sanji continued to smoke, letting the burning in his lungs ground him in reality as he pulled ingredients from the refrigerator.
It was only a dream.
The past was behind him. It couldn't reach him. It couldn't catch him. He had made sure of that. It was only a dream.
Sanji took a deep breath, exhaling a lungful of smoke into the room and watching it dissipate before throwing himself into breakfast preparations in earnest.
It was only a dream.
I would like to give a huge shout out to vageege/ciqq/okama-kenpo for beta-ing this fic for me and allowing me to throw ideas and half formed paragraphs at her.
As always, please review! I thrive off of them and love to hear from you all so much!