Omni-Piece: Without Ben
Another One-Shot Chapter
EXTRA! Foxy's Flop! (Sanji's POV) 1/2
If Sanji had to describe the air on Long Ring Long Land in one word, it'd be: weird.
Too quiet. Too soft. The kind of place you didn't trust, even when the sky was blue and the grass smelled like a fresh herb garden. He lit a cigarette anyway. A good burn soothed nerves, even the ones tied into knots.
They had barely touched ground when the idiot circus of a pirate crew rolled up—complete with inflatable ships, dumb grins, and a captain with a nose long enough to make Usopp uncomfortable. Foxy, he said. Sounded like the name of a cheap cologne.
Sanji didn't laugh.
Not when they brought out the ring. Not when they smugly suggested a "friendly" Davy Back Fight. And definitely not when Luffy said yes.
Sanji noticed it. The way Luffy didn't smirk. Didn't go all wide-eyed and shout "This sounds fun!" like he usually would.
He just stared. Then nodded. "Fine. One round."
No games. No jokes. Just fine. It chilled Sanji worse than an empty pantry.
Now, the ring was set. The stage was laughable—some kind of bizarre dodgeball-on-skates nonsense. And yet Sanji stood tall on their side, stretching his legs and cracking his knuckles as Usopp geared up beside him, goggles gleaming.
"Let's wipe the floor with these jokes," Sanji muttered.
"You got it, bro!" Usopp said, clearly sweating already.
Across the ring stood Foxy's handpicked team. Big, loud, dramatic. All show, no skill—or so they wanted you to think.
Sanji knew better.
When the signal blared, it wasn't graceful. It wasn't beautiful. It wasn't even fair.
It was warped.
Cloud dials exploded, fake rules popped up mid-match, and Foxy's ridiculous slow beam turned what should've been a simple match into a clown-fueled nightmare. But Sanji moved through it all—twisting, flipping, striking with brutal precision.
"Diable—no, wait. Not yet," he reminded himself. That new move burned too hot for just a carnival match.
He ducked a net, shattered a dial with a roundhouse, and yelled to Usopp, "RIGHT SIDE!"
Usopp, shockingly, hit his target.
They were winning. But Sanji couldn't enjoy it.
Because every time he glanced to the sidelines, Luffy wasn't smiling. Wasn't cheering. He sat—arms folded, eyes sharp—like a man waiting to cut off something rotten.
Sanji hated it.
He wanted the old Luffy back. The one who danced for meat. The one who yelled his crewmates' names like a badge of honor. Not this shadow of a captain trying to outpace grief.
Still… he got it.
Ben's jacket hadn't left the deck since Skypiea. Even washed and stitched, it hung like a ghost. And Sanji knew—Luffy was still blaming himself.
So Sanji fought harder.
He kicked the shame out of the air, smashed through every stupid trick Foxy had, and when that fake beam got aimed at Usopp—Sanji blocked it with his leg and gritted through the burn.
And in the end, when Foxy screamed and fell, his nose bent backwards, and the announcer declared the Straw Hats the winners…
Sanji didn't raise his fist.
He just walked off the field, winded, muttering, "We don't celebrate clown fights."
Back on the Merry, Usopp babbled about victory while Chopper tended his burns. Robin was already flipping through a book on "Davy Back's origins," and Zoro just snored on the deck like it meant nothing.
Sanji sat on the railing, a fresh cigarette in hand.
He looked toward Luffy's special captain's seat.
Luffy sat there now—hands crossed over his chest, eyes out to sea.
"What's next?" Sanji asked, smoke curling from his lips.
Luffy didn't turn around.
"Another fight's coming."
Sanji frowned. "Thought this was one and done?"
"It is," Luffy said. "That was for the clown."
He paused. His voice dropped. "Now comes the one for justice."
Sanji's fingers tightened on the cigarette. He could feel it in the air again—that weirdness. That tension.
The kind that didn't come from joke pirates.
Someone else was coming.
And this time… it wouldn't be for laughs.
=TO BE CONTINUED!=