Sanji had never really taken the time to think about what Katakuri would look like from above.

Considering how much time they'd already spent together, it was kind of odd that he'd never seen the man from any angle other than far below. Even standing on the massive table in the main room with Katakuri sitting beside him, the man had still been taller, forcing Sanji to crane his neck painfully upwards just to hold a conversation.

After all that time in the man's shadow, it felt almost surreal to be looking down at him.

He'd jumped high to get here, kicking off of the mochi wall to get even higher so he'd have a shot at the man's head. They'd only been sparring for a few minutes, but Sanji had very quickly realized that being anywhere within Katakuri's significant reach was dangerous. The man wasn't using those jellybeans he'd seen at the wedding, and hadn't even brought out his trident, but from the way their fight was going it seemed like he wouldn't even need to.

From above, it was even easier to see how outmatched he was. The massive corded muscles in Katakuri's arms stood out in clear relief as he twisted to one side to dodge Sanji's wind-slicing kick, his movements much faster than his size should have allowed. The next second, he was throwing a left punch that missed Sanji by millimeters, having shifted into an attack stance before Sanji could even draw his leg back for another kick.

The wind was loud as it rushed past his ear, the punch rending the air around him with the force behind it. There were already plenty of fist-sized holes in the floor from earlier, when Sanji had decided to try to knock the man off balance before realizing that the spikes on Katakuri's knee guards were there for a reason. He'd quickly shifted tactics, but not before Katakuri had almost crushed him half a dozen times.

Up in the air, it was a little easier to dodge. Katakuri seemed to be less comfortable fighting something above him, attacks coming just a little bit slower, but no less deadly.

Sanji kicked off the wall once more, judging how close he'd need to be to launch another hit. Hugging the edge of the mochi dome was making him more than a little annoyed, since it greatly limited his range, but he knew his stamina wasn't nearly up to par with Katakuri's. Skywalking took an immense amount of energy out of him, and though he wasn't feeling tired yet, he knew it was best to conserve what he had.

Katakuri's next punch went to his left and Sanji saw his opening, diving in. If he managed to get off a good hit on one of the man's shoulders, he could slow or even stop the attacks that were preventing him from getting too close-

Danger from the right.

Sanji twisted away, abandoning the attack just in time as Katakuri's fist passed through the space he'd been in only a half second before. He was forced to retreat once again, back to pushing off the wall to stay above Katakuri and wait for another chance.

Each time they clashed, Sanji felt as if he was only dodging by the skin of his teeth. To be fair, he wasn't operating anywhere near his full potential, still wary of the injuries on his back and legs, but Katakuri's speed seemed a little too…unnatural.

Sanji had fought fast opponents before; the key to keeping up with one was to watch their arms and legs, then judge where their next attack was coming from and act accordingly. All the movement with speed came from the extremities, as hands and feet could move a lot faster than an entire body.

But every time Sanji looked down, Katakuri's eyes were focused directly on his. He never looked away, never broke his concentration even for a second, but he was still managing to dodge everything Sanji threw at him.

It's gotta be that foresight. There was no other way. Sure, the man was fast, but with the way he was putting all of his effort into just keeping track of him, Sanji was willing to bet the man's reaction time was actually a lot slower than it seemed.

But he couldn't be certain. Katakuri was already a formidable opponent; it wasn't too much of a stretch for a man who'd found a way to see the goddamn future to also have found a way to move a little faster than his size should allow. If that was the case, Sanji would have to give up his hopes of escape entirely; Katakuri was just too far above his level.

But if it wasn't…If I can put him into a situation where he has to make a quick decision…

Sanji closed in once more, directing a pointed kick to the shoulder and a much less powerful one off to the right. The first one he already expected the man to dodge; it was just like every other kick he'd thrown in the past few minutes. But the second one had been delivered with all the speed he could manage, a quick out-and-back that normally hit Luffy before his captain even realized it was coming.

The first one was dodged, predictably. Sanji hadn't even finished pulling his leg back before Katakuri was already moving out of the way, winding up for another heavy punch. He knew he had time, so he waited just an extra split second before pushing himself backwards…

The jabbing, spear-like force of the kick hit Katakuri directly in the chest, just as Sanji had planned. As he thought, the man hadn't even been looking at his feet; he must've been relying solely on his foresight to tell him when and where to dodge, instead focusing all his attention on offense in order to keep up with Sanji's speed. He'd seen the future where Sanji's first kick had hit him and reacted accordingly, but that had led him directly into the path of the second.

His head went dizzy with the victory for a moment, reveling in the growing realization that he might actually have a chance. Katakuri's speed was fabricated, a product of his observation haki rather than an actual ability to move and think fast in the heat of battle. If he moved fast enough, if he aimed for pressure points and wore the man down over time, then…

Katakuri could be beaten.

I hit him, I actually fucking hit-

His whole world was suddenly black, a massive gloved fist filling his vision as reality slammed him in the gut with all the force of a battering ram.

The next moment, he was on his back on the floor, gasping for breath underneath the heavy weight pinning him to the ground. He reached out wildly, trying to get a grip on Katakuri's hand to push it off of him, but his fingers sank into thick dough instead of flesh. Looking up, wary for danger, he saw a long pillar of mochi that turned into Katakuri's arm right before it hit his jacket, the man himself standing above him.

They stayed like that for a moment, Sanji taking stock of the situation and Katakuri silently watching as if he hadn't just punched him halfway through the floor, before Katakuri reeled his arm back in. The way the mochi moved was fluid but unnerving to watch as it neatly detached itself from Sanji, sticky white dough gradually solidifying into the smooth black leather of a glove.

Sanji stood, hesitant, watching Katakuri for any movement. He found himself remarkably unharmed, his back aching from the impact but otherwise fine. A hit like that should've cracked a few ribs at the very least, but the mochi had absorbed much of the force, leaving him with little more than a bruised ego.

It had been soft as it hit him, too. Katakuri hadn't used haki.

But why..?

"It's only sparring," Katakuri informed him, when he looked up at the man with the question ready on his lips. "And I promised you, remember? I'm not going to hurt you."

"Yeah, yeah," Sanji brushed him off, face twisting in abrupt disgust as he looked down and realized just how much mochi was still on him. The stuff took forever to get out of the seams in his clothes, and if even a little of it had gotten into his hair, then he was shutting down this 'sparring' shit right fucking now. "Sure, you won't hurt me. And if you happen to hit me hard enough to break a few more bones, well, that's-"

"Sanji."

Once more, hearing his own name in that deep, unfamiliar voice froze his thoughts in their tracks.

-just…a happy…accident…

Katakuri's expression was oddly intense, his eyes unblinking and locked onto Sanji's. He moved in, driving Sanji to take an involuntary step back as his world seemed to shrink in the face of him being so close. An arm stretched out to brace himself against the wall as he went down on one knee, leaning in for a better angle.

His aura was thick in the air, black leather and hard muscle and piercing gaze making him seem even larger than he actually was. Katakuri wasn't threatening him, wasn't even that close to him, but Sanji still felt like he was trapped with his back against the wall by the pressure of his presence.

When Katakuri spoke again, his words were quiet. To Sanji they were loud, echoing in the small space between them, but to Katakuri they must have been barely above a whisper. "Sanji, I won't hurt you, because I don't want to hurt you."

The feeling of being pinned beneath all that power sparked something in Sanji's mind, a vague memory of a shape above him coupled with the hazy sense of a warm night, loose limbs, and easy laughter. It reminded him of that one stolen moment so long ago where he'd felt wanted, happy, safe…

'I don't want to hurt you, Sanji.'

The words were old, years old, but they echoed in his mind as if Katakuri had just spoken them as well.

"You need to listen to me, Sanji."

His head was locked in a harsh struggle between cold reality and warm memory, Sanji fighting to remain in the present but at the same time irresistibly drawn to the past. It was the heaviest moment of déjà vu he'd ever experienced, triggered by the presence pushing down on him, those strong limbs around him locking the rest of the world away, and above all the searing, somber look in those yellow eyes.

"Sanji," Katakuri repeated, his gaze just as damningly soft as it had been last night, "I need you to listen to me. I know you distrust me. You have good reason to, and I know that nothing I can do will change that. However, this is something I cannot allow to continue."

Sanji was finding it hard to breathe, now, but it had nothing to do with the weight on his chest.

"This," Katakuri gestured with his free hand, at himself, at Sanji, at the shattered ground between them, "assumption that your life is worthless to me, that you are something expendable, is ridiculous. You are nothing short of invaluable here. Do you understand that?"

'You're not worthless. Not to me.' A soft whisper. No one else had been meant to hear it, but Sanji hadn't cared. That fact that it had been said at all had been enough for him.

"Answer me, Sanji. Do you understand your worth in this territory?"

He couldn't look at him, couldn't speak for the pounding in his ears. Memory after memory washed over him, breaking barriers he'd put up so long ago that he'd forgotten they'd even existed. Katakuri's gaze was ruthless, his aura a relentless force bearing down on him, and Sanji couldn't shake the damning parallels between him and…between him and…

"You don't believe me." Katakuri's tone was less accusatory and more…disappointed. "I can see it."

Sanji didn't have the sense of mind left to confirm or deny it.

A beat of silence followed, Katakuri's presence becoming heavier and heavier as he scrutinized Sanji. Sanji felt like he was being slowly peeled apart by that amber gaze, layer by layer torn away until Katakuri could see even the memories playing in his head.

'I won't hurt you, Sanji. You know I'll never hurt you.'

"Very well," Katakuri said, an air of finality in his voice as he backed away from Sanji and rose to his full height. The air seemed to rush back in to take up the space now between them, Sanji's lungs filling in an instant and the dreamy haze clearing from his mind as if it had never been there. Katakuri was once more his captor, once more an unreachable mystery far above him, and Sanji was nothing but a prisoner. "I suppose I'll just have to prove it to you."

It was only later that night, lying in bed and replaying the scene over and over in his head, that he realized Katakuri hadn't had a scratch on him.

He'd hit him, landed a kick with enough force to crush a house, and it hadn't even left a mark.

"Son of a bitch," he whispered to himself. All that work, all that time spent worrying about his agility and speed and how he might manage to counter Katakuri's foresight, was all for nothing if he couldn't even damage him.

He needed to get stronger, stronger even than he'd been before his injuries, if he planned on making it out of here.

Which meant he'd need to spend more time training with Katakuri…which meant he was going to have to spend more time around the man himself…which meant he needed to solve his little issue as soon as possible.

The issue in question was currently wedged between him and the bed, and hadn't shown even the slightest hint of resolving itself since it had appeared several hours ago. At this point, even the feeling of his soft pajama pants shifting against it when he rolled onto his side hurt, the slight friction painful against his sensitive flesh.

Nothing he'd tried had gone even the slightest way towards getting rid of it. Making dinner, thinking over his preparations for the next morning's breakfast, and even listing off all the many menial steps to preparing pufferfish in his head hadn't so much as temporarily cowed it.

It didn't take long for him to realize that he'd have to take care of it the old-fashioned way. He could just fall asleep and hope that it would go away in the morning, but if it didn't, there was no way he'd be able to hide it from Katakuri whenever he returned. And if the man saw…well, that was hardly something he could just brush off.

Part of him recoiled at the thought of touching himself, though. He knew what the change in him meant, knew where his sudden neediness had been triggered by, and he knew that feeding it once would only make it worse.

But it had to be done. He'd gotten lucky today, when Katakuri had been pulled aside as soon as they'd stepped out of the arena. Once more, the pink-haired woman with the odd horns had come rushing up to him, flustered and breathless as she told him he was needed on their western shores.

Sanji had been escorted back to Katakuri's house by the same twins who guarded him before, armed with the same bows while some sort of servant followed close behind him with a massive mirror held upright. He wouldn't have tried to escape anyway, considering how unlikely it would be for him to steal a ship to take him off the island, but at least the presence of the mirror confirmed his suspicion that there were forces ready to restrain him at a moment's notice.

Whatever Katakuri had been called away to deal with had kept him busy for the rest of the day. Sanji had made dinner alone, cleaned up alone, then showered and gone to bed alone. It reminded him of how things had been earlier, when Katakuri would leave in the morning and come back in the evening, but now that he had gotten used to the man's constant presence it felt odd with him gone.

Every night he'd been captive here, he had fallen asleep with the sense of Katakuri nearby, a solid if discouraging proof that he wasn't on his own. Even after he'd gotten used to the feeling of him on the edge of his mind, he'd at least had the vague reassurance that someone was there with him.

But now, he was alone, and he could feel nothing but emptiness.

Sanji shivered involuntarily, pulling the cotton-candy sheets a little closer around him. This was the thing he hated inside himself, that he didn't want to allow to get any stronger; the fear of loneliness, and the need that came with it that drove him to attach himself to anything nearby just for the sake of a human touch. If he chose to feed it by fantasizing about what he didn't have, that need would only become stronger.

But the alternative was too risky. Now was the best chance he'd ever get, anyway, with Katakuri out of the house and the room too dark for the mirrors to observe him, and the thought of the man seeing him when he was like this was far more terrifying than dealing with a few old problems.

One hand slid down, a few fingers toying with the loose rim of his pants. God, he couldn't remember the last time he'd gotten off, couldn't remember the last time he'd thought about anything other than survival and how much he missed his crew.

Just a moment for myself…that's all I need, just a quick moment…

Unbidden, his mind drew up the memory from before. Strong arms anchored beside him, a heavy presence above him pinning him down, soft words whispered in his ear. It had been dark that night, in a secluded corner of the ship away from the rest of the crew, but he could still make out the features of high cheekbones, a sharp nose, rough-cut hair, and-

Amber eyes, glaring down at him.

Sanji jerked his hand away from himself, abandoning the pleasant pressure in favor of curling up into a ball and fighting to erase the image in his head. Katakuri must have become such a constant figure in his life that he was seeing him everywhere, even where the man was most unwelcome.

After his heartbeat had slowed and his sudden panic had subsided, he tried again, moving slowly.

A light squeeze around the base of his shaft, a thumb pressing against his head…warm hands around his face, gentle fingers pressing at the edges of his mouth.

In his mind, Sanji looked up, relief washing through him as he saw the eyes were the right color now. He relaxed against his bed, letting his hand move faster as he sank further into his fantasy.

A rough touch sliding down his chest, following an invisible trail downwards. It excited him but scared him at the same time, and as he struggled to remain still his companion whispered words of comfort.

'I don't want to hurt you, Sanji.'

But when he spoke, the voice was far too deep, far too…big, as if coming from someone much larger.

He looked up, and the hand on him was suddenly massive, closing over his entire body to hold him down. Amber eyes glowed in the low light, and he was trapped, pinned beneath incredible strength, that deep voice promising him that he was invaluable, that he was worth so much-

Sanji came with an abrupt jolt, his hand shooting up at the last moment to stifle his cry. His entire body was wracked with shudders as he rode out his orgasm, replaying the same words over and over again in his head.

It felt like an eternity until he went still, but he knew it only could've been a few seconds at most. His breath came back slowly, then his hearing, and finally his sight as he opened his eyes and stared at the wall across from his bed. The hand inside his pajama pants was wet, and even through the chill in the night air he could smell his own musky scent.

Sanji lay there for a moment, dazed and dissociated. The past few minutes seemed to have a hazy quality to them, as if they'd only happened in his imagination instead of in reality, but the evidence staining the sheets told him otherwise. He really had gotten himself off, while he was a prisoner, in someone else's house, in enemy territory.

And try as he might, there was no denying who had been in his head as he'd cum.

"I'm so fucked," he said, to the empty room.