RR: It's starting to look better, thanks! Yes, plenty of characters for me to, ahem, use…and Shachi had made his appearance here and there. If you thought that chapter was spooky, this one, well…you'll see. : ) The descent into Hell starts now…

: 9 :

The walls were nearly black with added drawings. There were words printed neatly in available spaces, detailing the size and contents of the property. A drawn compass just above head level told Ichiji north was behind him. The air seemed to pulsate with heavy heat, the lights overhead dimmed and flickering with each step he took. When he paused in mid-step, the lights stopped flickering, burning with a vague whisper of strength that threatened to fail. The water contained within the glass trembled against the mouth as his hand shook. He listened for any sign of movement other than his own, wondering why it was taking Yonji so long to return. As he continued forward, the lights began to flicker again.

All the doors but one were closed. From underneath them, he could see faint light from lamps underneath, and shadows that passed by, suggesting someone was inside. Just as he registered that, he became aware of the sounds of casual movement – which forced him to accept that there was occupation in place. He paused again, listening to the soft sound of a drawer opening, the gentle step of shoe against wood, the drawing of a curtain. Casual, easy actions that were unthreatening, and yet frightening at the same time.

A bed squeaked as weight settled down atop of it, then the continuous repetition began – a child giggling. Sucking in a heavy breath, Ichiji walked forward, to the only door that was opened; uninviting, it was only a stripe of black in the dim lighting of the hallway. But something told him he needed to be at that particular door – the room containing the dead animals was closed tightly.

He stood outside the door, listening to the sounds of Shachi jumping on the bed. A man cleared his throat noisily from another room, the sound of a closet door sliding open ringing out within the rigid stillness. Had these sounds always been there, and he was just now attuning himself to it?

Exhaling shallowly, Ichiji looked at the cup of glass in one hand, and then sought the words needed to speak up.

"Sanji," he said tightly, finding it difficult to do so when the air was so weighty. "I brought some of your medication."

"He doesn't want that," Law told him, from the other side of the door; it was suggested that he had been standing there, waiting for Ichiji to approach.

"He will," Ichiji said. "After everything he's eaten, today."

The handle jiggled, as if turned and released at the same time. Ichiji could feel his skin break out in a thin sweat as he watched the stripe of black, waiting for the door to open fully to him.

"We've not eaten too much, it won't be needed, thank you," Law then said.

"Metabolism dictates a continuity of food intake, before slowing down and reserving what he tries to burn off," Ichiji said firmly, fingers tightening on the cup. "Starving one's self has the opposite effect, and he always eats, no matter how small. If he doesn't, his body will fail, and thus, ruin any chance you have of surviving long enough to see our father."

The loud bang on the door caused him to lurch backward, water sloshing over his hand as all of Ichiji's limbs jerked in response. All the noises ceased around him, leaving him in an eerie silence.

The door opened, and Sanji looked out at him, his expression reading confusion as his tired eyes settled upon Ichiji's face. For a few moments, nothing was said – Ichiji thought he could hear his younger brother's heart racing, slamming up against his ribcage, but he might've mistaken it for his own. Tentatively, he held the cup of water up.

"I noticed that…Luffy ate a little too much, earlier," Ichiji said stiffly, panic flying over Sanji's features. "Hours, ago. I know you get upset when he does – I brought you some medication to…assist."

"…I…thought I was supposed to be jailed?" Sanji said, looking absolutely lost as he stared at the cup. Ichiji reached into his pocket, withdrew the pills.

"I'm not sure how much you take, but – " he trailed off as Sanji stepped forward and snatched them all, taking the cup of water. It both alarmed and relieved him that Sanji swallowed all of them down without examination, feeling his stomach, patting it for any signs of obvious consumption.

"What did he eat?" Sanji demanded, his voice obscenely loud for the abnormal silence. "What did he eat, all of it?"

"Every bit," Ichiji said tightly. "We didn't know you'd returned, and…it was too late to stop him."

He didn't understand the way Sanji's mind worked – how obsessed he was with food, with physical activity, with 'maintaining'. But his younger brother's face looked absolutely calculating as he stood there, dropping his earlier confusion to his return home. Ichiji felt a thick lump in his throat as his eyes coursed over his brother, wondering where the knife was. But he'd stopped Shachi from taking one, so did that mean Sanji was still armed?

After seeing that near death incident earlier, Ichiji knew how to press Sanji's buttons. For his own safety.

"I'd cut up most of the turkey, but it was missing after you'd returned, at least half the bird," he said slowly, counting off his fingers. "Half of the mashed potatoes as well – the vegetables were halfway consumed before we'd found you – "

"Fucking hell!"

"But we'd also noticed that the icebox had been tampered with, and the concoctions you'd intended on baking later were also missing," Ichiji added with low concern. "Are you feeling unwell after all of that?"

Sanji looked ill, but not because of the food Ichiji had listed; his expression of distress was mainly on the concept of eliminating everything he'd apparently consumed, and Ichiji watched as his shaking fingers encircled his wrist, touched his stomach again, pinching at his sides, his thighs – and it evaded Ichiji's understanding how Sanji could think that this was a negative thing for his physical appearance. Was it the concept of control over what he'd lost because of their father, to remain childlike, or to take on a disgusting appearance to dissuade attraction of some kind? Being unable to understand him, Ichiji knew he would never get these answers.

Sanji did not reach out for his help. He did not reach out to anybody, still thinking that he was alone in his struggle.

It upset Ichiji, thinking of this, because he had hoped to repair what he could of this tumultuous relationship, and he absolutely could not because of those demonic things residing in him. Because of that line of thinking, he felt momentarily unguarded.

You shit! Ichiji heard somewhere behind him – beyond him, far from him, but so close that his skin rippled in goosebumps. Trickery!

Without a glance around him, Sanji pushed against Ichiji, striding towards the stairs. Ichiji followed quickly, noticing that the lights that he'd seen earlier were missing in each of the rooms. The hallway light was stronger – it cast an unnatural glow against the colored walls. Hoping the pills were taking effect, Ichiji kept a close step to him, looking to the front doors, waiting for Yonji to return.

"I have to do this! I have to do this, quick, before it settles in! How long has it been?" Sanji asked, his voice cracking. "How long?"

"Four hours," Ichiji replied. Sanji looked back at him with a panicked expression, nearly stumbling before catching himself. Once they were on the first floor, Ichiji gaped after him as he then took the stairs with a fast stride, and Ichiji understood that Sanji intended on exercising the supposed meal away in this manner. He stood at the bottom of the stairway as he watched his brother walk up and down the stairs in a frantic manner, clutching the railing.

Then he looked back at the front doors, feeling himself start to fret. Yonji was taking too long. He crossed his arms over his chest, starting to feel his heart race as he listened to Sanji stumble again, hearing him curse, hearing him move faster.

"Can you hear them talking to you, Sanji?" he asked, lifting his voice to be heard. "Do they talk to you directly?"

"I don't care about them!"

"Do you not care what they are doing around you?"

"No, I don't."

"Are you aware that they returned here because they know father is coming here?"

"I don't care about him."

"Will you be able to conduct yourself properly with him in your space?" Ichiji asked, leaning against the banister.

"I'll be my usual charming self, what's the problem?" Sanji snapped fiercely at him, already red faced with his efforts, coming down the stairway at an unnaturally fast pace. He kept stumbling, Ichiji watching him warily. "Not like it matters, I do not have control over what he does!"

Ichiji set his jaw before he then said, "He'll be proud of you for gaining as much weight as you have."

Once he heard the cessation of frantic pacing, he glanced over to see Sanji stilling near the top of the stairs, breathing hard. His fingers clutched the railing tightly, knuckles white. Facing away from him, he hid whatever expression he wore in response to Ichiji's words, but Ichiji hoped that it had given him the right reaction he was looking for. Sure enough, Sanji turned to look at him.

"Why would he be proud of that?" he asked, his voice straining for strength.

"That facility worked to help you overcome your disorder, and it's clearly worked," Ichiji said, eyes straining to see if his posture had changed, if his expression wore someone else's. But Sanji stood rigidly, and his temple veins pulsed as his skin reddened with emotion. He turned to face Ichiji, and Ichiji was that thankful to see he was still addressing Sanji. He did notice how dark it had become in the living room, that things rattled ever so slightly. "Isn't that why you do this to yourself? To destroy any invitation for him to approve of you?"

"I don't give a fuck about anyone's approval!" Sanji shouted at him.

"It doesn't make any sense for you to work so hard. Every calorie you deny yourself, every effort your put into…this…just to satisfy yourself. It's not for yourself, is it? You do this so father would notice you, and not in the way that you think," Ichiji said tightly.

"I don't give a fuck about what he thinks about me!"

"As a child, you gained the most attention from him – as an adult, you're still looking for it, but in another way, a way that you wouldn't think, but it's done quite the opposite for you," Ichiji stated. "Instead of reverting his attention elsewhere, you've made yourself into quite a fascination for nobody to ignore."

Sanji turned and began walking down the stairs towards him, but he judged his steps incorrectly, clinging to the railing. He looked ready to lunge at Ichiji, so Ichiji looked for the weapon that he knew Sanji still had. He backed away as his brother made it down the stairs, but he was breathing too hard, and his legs seemed too shaky to support him properly. He would not present too much of a danger to Ichiji, but it was those other personalities that were deadlier.

"You don't know shit about me! Or what I'm doing!" Sanji shouted at him, voice cracking once more. "Don't stand there and judge me! You don't know what's going through my head! Never have I wanted his attention!"

"You earn it so well, though," Ichiji stated, walking backwards once his brother touched down onto the first floor, making obvious effort to stagger upright, weakened by his poor health and the effect of the pills. "If you didn't want this sort of attention, you would've remained quiet and indifferent, just like Reiju, but you went the opposite route. You went this one, which guarantees attention, not only from him, but from others around you. You want people to look at you, to feel sorry for you, pity, and you shout not only to deflect it, but to draw it in even further. 'Look at me', your face demands, even as you cast it away verbally. 'Look at me', your voice says, as you're throwing a tantrum. That's all you ever wanted, right? Don't try and force me to misunderstand, this is what you wanted. And now that you're getting it, in a way that backfires upon you, you turn to this – pretenses that you're other people, that force you into doing unnatural things. Thus landing you all the attention you felt you lacked as a child."

"You've never been more wrong than you are, now," Sanji told him, tripping once more, hitting the floor on his knees, fighting to remain upright. He heaved for breath, crawling towards him, struggling. Once he realized he couldn't touch Ichiji, who stayed out of his reach, he propped himself on all fours, trying to catch his breath. Ichiji thought he could hear his younger brother's heart racing, but due to the fluttery feeling in his own chest, he wasn't definite. There was something inside of him that hurt, watching Sanji struggle so violently against himself, against him. "What's happening to me…?"

"We were warned, repeatedly, that the only way we could win was to put you away," Ichiji said heavily. Resignation laced his words. He took a chance to glance back at the doors, wondering where Yonji was. "We can't stop them from acting. Especially if you aren't aware of their wrong doings. But it makes me wonder if you truly are incapable of stopping them."

Sanji pushed himself up to sit on his knees, reaching out to clutch a chair's back to support himself. He looked up at Ichiji with the same sort of resignation Ichiji spoke with, trying to steady his breathing. He looked as if he'd just performed some outrageously strenuous feat, and Ichiji wondered if it were only the pills Sanji struggled against, or his own thoughts. His thin, straggly blond hair clung to his sweaty face, concave features holding so much venomous anger that Ichiji suspected heavy damage might have occurred if the man hadn't made himself so physically weak.

But his attack, the pills Ichiji had given him, guaranteed their physical safety – they would be safe transporting him to the police station in town.

It's not him! Ichiji thought he heard Niji exclaim with frustration. It's not him!

"Quiet!" he snapped out loud, impatient with the buzz at his ear. "Enough of that!"

Sanji regarded him with suspicion, watching him speak out loud. Then, in one smooth move, he was on his feet, Ichiji looking at him with surprise. The red cleared from Sanji's face, and he wasn't so winded. He stood strongly, without effort, but his hand reached to fiddle with an ear lobe.

"You hear that, too?" he asked Ichiji quietly, cringing slightly. "That noise? It's difficult to put away. Certainly, the mice put in their efforts to cast our downfall, deviant fiends that they aspire to be."

Ichiji realized he was no longer in control of the situation, arms falling back to his sides as he began inching back towards the front doors. Sanji watched him with a puzzled expression. From somewhere in the house, Niji gave a hoarse bark of laughter.

"Will absolutely no one hear me at all?" he shouted in vain.

With a terse frown, Sanji muttered, "The government is conspiring against us, again. That's the sound of it. That noise, it's meant to cause distraction. Don't you remember it? The machinery in the fields? The index in the back of the bed appointed it, so."

Vaguely, Ichiji was aware of the sound that began again, a hum in the distance that only grew louder as he attuned himself to it. Whoever it was speaking to him made little sense, but as he'd mentioned it, he realized that what he was hearing brought back faint memory of his childhood, waking up to hear the sounds of machines working the fields in the distance. Once it struck him that this was, indeed, the sound that had plagued him since the personalities began making their appearance, he was absolutely bewildered as to why that particular noise continued to sound off with the others' awakening.

It made him question, once more, if Sanji was truly innocent.

He looked back at his brother and realized that he was shifting his weight from side to side, twitching with visible discomfort.

"Fuck, that sound is annoying," Sanji mumbled, flicking at his ears. "It's constant, just constant, a buzzing that never stops. Sounds like flies – there's an uncleanliness to this place that draws in flies, and that's not perfect, that's not right. Where are they coming from?"

"Ichiji!" Niji shouted, and it seemed as if his voice were coming from upstairs. So distinct and loud, so clear. Ichiji looked back at the door, feeling his chest tighten. Where the fuck was Yonji? "Ichiji!"

Panic started to burn up from within Ichiji, and he felt extremely cautious as he looked once more to his brother, who was patting a palm up against his ear with distress. Ichiji struggled to settle the nerves that lit on fire, and he glanced around himself, looking for something to use, something to defend himself with. Sanji dropped his hand, looking at Ichiji with a piercing expression. Something about his slow movements caused intense anxiety to race through Ichiji, Sanji's features shifting into that of a fierce, wide grin.

"Ah, ha ha ha ha ha, what have we here?" he growled out, his voice deeper and louder than it was earlier, as his irises turned fully black. Somehow, his shoulders lifted, growing impossibly larger, and his body hunched slightly as his legs settled into a low stance, ready to shift at any moment. "Are you trembling from fear, meat sack? You look upset. Let me hug you."

Throat tight, Ichiji's thoughts raced from one side to the other before evading him completely as Sanji stalked towards him, eyes focused entirely on him. He found strength to move, taking the steps necessary to keep the couch between them, but found himself gaping with incredulity as Sanji picked up one end of the couch, hauling it from floor to toss aside with nothing more than a low growl, displaying a hideous show of strength that should have been impossible with his body.

Aware that the end was coming towards him, Ichiji was suddenly aware of everything: of Niji's frantic shouts from the attic, of Law's giggles, Shachi's laughter, Robin's chuckle.

Talk about the machine, someone said gently – a wisp of soft sound that did not fit the terror of the moment.

Ichiji's lips flapped uselessly before he sputtered out, "The reaper…why was it the reaper you always heard?"

Shilliew stood over him for a few moments, that malicious grin faltering slightly before giving a puzzled look. His facial features twisted before he tilted his head, looking to the floor for assistance.

"It was the only one anyone had owned," Buggy replied thoughtfully, features twisting into place as he blinked repeatedly, struggling to come up with the memory. "In the distance, it was so loud, and it made a…as a child, of course, it was frightening to me. I didn't see it for so long, so I imagined that it was a monster of some type - you know how silly kids get. But, ah, that's an odd question for you to ask."

"Even after you knew what it was, you continued to fear it?"

"Haven't you see one?" Buggy asked him. "Those teeth like a monster's! And what they could do to a field! That was…that was the summer it changed. Everything. Seeing my friend lose his arm – so easily. So…it was a monster in the end, much like – I wanted to do this, to cheer him up, but – it didn't work that way – "

"You're not seeing things very well, here," Law said, appearing in that moment with an impatient expression. "He is using words of distraction – "

"Are you tricking me?" Buggy cried, glaring at Ichiji.

He was so close to the door – he felt the knob in his hand as he reached back for it, Buggy closing the distance between them.

"Why can I hear it?" Ichiji demanded, feeling himself sweat, his palms moist as his fingers slipped around the knob. "Why am I hearing your trauma?"

Buggy gave him an incredulous expression, mouth dropping open. "You can hear it? You can hear it, too? Akainu swore it'd be fixed – only I can hear that sound! Can you hear it? Is it that loud?"

"It's loud."

Incredulous, Buggy turned away from him, looking around the area with his hands lifting to his face. Ichiji opened the door, and slipped through, emerging into the cold night. Without saying anything else, he escaped the front porch, emerging out into the rain that pattered heavily to the ground. He could barely see anything around him. Thunder rumbled in the distance, and he shielded his eyes, but he couldn't see the end of the driveway. He took to it, his boots slipping in the mud, hearing the doors open behind him.

"NO!" Buggy screamed, heaving the sound with a shattered sob. "NO! NOT AGAIN! I performed a feat, and you intend on ignoring me! I earned my pay! I earned my pay! Are you not entertained?"

"COME BACK HERE!" Shilliew bellowed, Ichiji glancing over his shoulder to see the man pursue him, taking impossibly long strides, heavy weight hitting the muddy ground with such thunderous action that he could feel it under his feet. Ichiji started running fast, searching the impossible darkness for Yonji. "COME BACK HERE, YOU CAN'T ESCAPE ME!"

Breathing shallowly, Ichiji put everything he could into keeping the distance between them. He followed the gravel-covered road, recognizing the trenches of wagon wheels, the familiar sights of the shrubbery that lined it. Lightening flashed in the distance, and even over the hard pour of rain, he could hear Shilliew chasing him. His heavy breathing suggested such a larger man than Sanji was, and Ichiji knew that he'd catch up – he veered quickly off the road and into the wet shrubbery, pushing through the brush with frantic action, taking to the woods. Here, the landscape was so much more slippery, mud with a mixture of uneven terrain under boot making it near impossible to stay upright. But Shilliew was slowed, hitting the ground with a loud curse, releasing a roar of outrage as he did so.

Ichiji looked back just in time to see him struggling to get back up, and missed his footing on some tree roots. He hit the ground with a whoosh of exhaled breath, scrambling to use the exposed roots to rise. Stumbling over them, he rounded the tree, hit another, and tripped over some brush that scratched at him. The brambles clung to his wet clothing, held him back as he shoved himself forward, heaving exhalations of effort to get through them. The crash of sound told him that Shilliew had hit the same spot, and amidst his cantankerous action, he cursed Ichiji for getting such distance between them.

Ichiji turned right, knowing he'd return back to the property.

"YONJI!" he shouted, as loudly as he could. "YONJI!"

Shilliew's wild laughter echoed out through the trees as Ichiji escaped them, seeing the lights of the house ahead of him. He still couldn't see the road at this point, couldn't see any sign of Yonji – where was he? – and made the choice to return to it. Nearly out of breath from the pacing, the efforts he'd taken, Ichiji raced up the stairs of the front porch and ran inside, slamming the doors shut. Locking them.

Hearing his own breath, his boots scuffing against the floor, Ichiji dripped from the fallen rain, looking around himself. The house felt empty, and the grandfather clock ticked noisily nearby. He hurried towards the study, for the gun cabinet. His fingers shook violently as he found the key needed to access it, withdrawing a rifle from inside. He clumsily handled the rounds needed to load it, dropping some onto the floor as he shoved two rounds in. He paused while stuffing more rounds into his trouser pockets, listening to the rain fall on the house.

When he was satisfied with the stillness that signaled he was the only one present, he finished loading, locked the cabinet, and strode out from the study, looking around. All he saw were the puddles he'd left behind, the doors still locked tightly as he'd left them. He slipped out of his boots, shrugged clumsily out of his outfit jacket. Then hurried upstairs, for the attic – where he'd heard Niji. Finding the key for that, he opened the door, shoving it in. He flicked the light on, seeing only the blood stains left behind when Niji's body was removed.

"Niji?" he whispered, hissing the name again as he hurried around the tower of furniture within the center of the floor. He knew he wouldn't find his brother there, frantic just to hear his voice, again. "NIJI!"

"ICHIJI! I'm here!" Yonji shouted from within the house, and Ichiji stilled, heart slamming up against his chest. He held a breath he couldn't afford to, knowing that it was wrong. The doors were locked. But maybe Yonji had returned while he'd been out, and was taking cover in one of the rooms.

"Yonji! Where are you?" he shouted back, leaving the attic without locking the door behind him.

All he heard in response was the grandfather clock, and his blood ran cold. His weight caused the floorboards underneath him to creak ominously as he shuffled across them, holding the rifle tightly in both hands.

"ICHI!" Yonji shouted again, coming from somewhere below him.

"Where are you?" Ichiji snapped back, taking the stairway cautiously, trying to place exactly where he could be.

"ICHIJI!" Yonji cried out, and his voice trembled, causing Ichiji much distress at the fragility of it. It was still so much more below him, and he paused in mid-step, heart pounding hard as he registered the direction. "ICHIJI!"

"Goddamn it, where are you?" Ichiji shouted, hefting the rifle up, taking a few more steps, hearing the drip of his clothes as he moved.

"ICHI!"

Struggling to rein in his panic, telling himself that he had to focus, had to concentrate on potential trickery, Ichiji made it down onto the first floor, stilling. A soft bang against an object that caused it to rattle made him whirl around, rifle at the ready. All he could see on the floor was his own wet trail, and the bloodstains from the head in the sink.

"ICHIJI!"

The voice came from the kitchen, and Ichiji pictured the door, there. He hurried towards that direction, bursting into the area with rifle ready, trigger finger trembling. The door was opened, allowing the cold and the wet from outside to filter in, and he scanned the counters, spotting the opened pantry door.

He wouldn't be in there.

He knew this – Yonji often complained of the size, unable to handle it.

But he ventured in that direction, anyway, thinking that fear would cause Yonji to do uncomfortable things, like run away. Each step was monumental effort – his thoughts kept screaming at him to think logically. Yonji would not be in the pantry – but he ran away. For someone his size and structure, he ran away from someone that looked like Sanji.

Breathing shallowly, he reached out, pushing the pantry door wider, hearing it bang against the wall as he did so. As he thought, it was empty.

"ICHI!"

Ichiji whirled around at the closeness of the voice, scanning the kitchen once more. Instinct told him to get out of there, to run for safety, but Yonji's voice was so close.

He ventured around the kitchen island, to head towards the open kitchen door – it shouldn't be open – when he heard Yonji cry his name out again. It was so close – Ichiji looked into the sink, not wanting to see the contents, but unable to stop himself. Lucci's head was looking at him, blinking normally, mouth twitching violently. Once he had Ichiji's attention, his expression twisted with a maniacal giggle.

"Ichiji! Help me!" he begged in Yonji's voice, and Ichiji turned and raced for the kitchen door with a shout of panic. He slammed off the body running in, something sharp hitting him in the gut. Automatically, he pushed out as he hit back first against the floor, the length of the rifle stopping the paring knife from falling down on him.

Law laughed maniacally as he pressed down against Ichiji, using his weight to sit on Ichiji, stabbing downwards while dripping his wet clothes over him. Ichiji struggled, shrimping from the tight grip of Sanji's bony legs, Law driving the knife at him over and over without pause.

"Big brother! Big brother, save me!" Law mocked him with Sanji's voice, erupting into giggles again as he pressed down on the rifle with one hand, Ichiji shoving as hard as he could to keep it between them, to keep the weapon from allowing Law to stab him. Ichiji then bucked him upward, Law reaching out to catch himself, allowing Ichiji to turn, to use his shoulder against his chest to push up from the floor. Law wrapped his arms around Ichiji's head, knife pressed against Ichiji's shoulder, stabbing him with the movement. Ichiji struggled to slam Law onto the floor as he turned at the same time, reversing their position.

Law kicked at him, grabbing a hold of Ichiji's wrist with one hand, turning as Ichiji used the rifle to press down against his chin.

"STOP IT!" he bellowed, faced with the man's grinning face as he struggled underneath Ichiji. "SANJI! STOP IT!"

"He's not in, please leave a message," Law told him flatly before twisting, back to Ichiji, then shooting out from underneath him. He climbed to his feet and ran out before Ichiji could lift the rifle, firing at him belatedly as he fled the kitchen, laughing. Heart pounding, Ichiji sat on the floor, adrenaline racing through him with dizzying speed. He frantically scraped his fingers over himself, looking for injury.

At the sound of laughter coming from the sink, he paused in mid-breath. He could see the hairline of the head moving inside of it, the sound amplified by the porcelain. Shakily, Ichiji rose to his feet, taking the few steps needed to look in.

Lucci was laughing at him, so Ichiji raised the rifle and used the last round on that smiling face.