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"… what do you think?"
The voice floated over Sanji, distant and unimportant. Far away. He was locked in the little cage, the bars over his face, cage within a cage. Bugs. Laughter. Pain. Every inhale had the stale smell of dungeon. There was no escape.
"No idea." Someone else replied. "I've certainly never seen him react like this before."
"Yo, cook." Motion, if motion was detected through a blurry screen. Not important. It was more important to curl up small, protect his organs, and wrap his arms around his neck. He couldn't protect his head. It was going to be rung like a bell no matter what he did. If he tried to soften the damage by shoving his fingers under the seam, the force of Niji's kick could break all his fingers against the metal. Mistake. Mistake.
"It's like he's not even here." A sliver of confusion. "Like. Hey, Sanji. It's Nami. Can you look at me?"
Once, a bug had crawled in his ear underneath the helmet. He screamed for hours and no one came to help. Sometimes the drops of sweat felt like bugs. Right now, a drop of sweat was running down his temple. He kept telling himself, frantic, over and over, that it wasn't a bug. But he couldn't reach his face through the bars to find out.
"Careful. Don't." Firmer. "I don't think he's in his right mind. He'd never forgive himself if he hurt you."
"You think he'd lash out?"
"He might. I've never seen him so scared. Whatever he's remembering, I'd bet he'd do anything to make it stop. He's a fighter."
The familiar feeling of rocking, knees to chest, forward and back, desperately pulling at the short hairs at the back of his neck escaping from the edge of the helmet. The moldy smell of dungeon surrounded him from all sides.
"Damn it. We need to get out of here before this gets worse. Hey! Hey! Come and face us, cowards!" Banging against metal. Sanji flinched, the kicking of bars telling him what was to come.
"Nami, quit it. Cook, you're okay. You're not there. Wherever that is. Sure, we're in a shit situation, but we're gonna get out. I know you're not scared of being captured, we've been here a million times before. Something else is bugging you."
"What would Sanji even be afraid of?" The other voice came closer again, softer. "He's…"
"Yeah. Well. There was a good nineteen years we didn't get to be there for." Cut through gritted teeth. "And I think it wasn't great. Especially with what he's doing to his hair right now. Ever noticed that?"
"That he pulls his hair when stressed? Yeah. But he loves his father to death. There's no way Zeff would've let anything bad happen to his little eggplant."
"I don't know."
Silence. Sanji's ragged breathing filled the small space, as he waited for the follow-up from the slamming of the cell cage. His world was so narrow, pinpricks through slots of too-close bars.
A shuffle, and someone put themselves in front of him.
"Watch out, he wouldn't want to hurt you either."
Scoff. "Please. He couldn't hurt me even if he wanted to. Hey. Cook. Sanji. It's me, Zoro. Mind looking up?"
Looking up. Sanji's fingers curled tighter around the hair at the nape of his neck, pulling even harder. Tense. He set his jaw, but obeyed, flinching all the way back into the wall at the sight of green hair in his distant middle vision. He gasped, shaking and terrified, "Yonji."
Green brows furrowed. He repeated, mystified, "Yonji?"
Sanji gave no response and bit his lip so hard it began to bleed.
"He thinks you're someone else." The other guessed softly.
"What kind of name is…" The room fell silent. Then he continued after a long moment, "There's no way."
"Three and four." A whisper.
"Fuck. Okay. That can't be the old man. That's… that's gotta be something else."
Sanji didn't want to keep waiting for the pain. A whine broke in the back of his throat, rocking back and forth a little bit more. Just enough to try and soothe the fear, even when what he knew was coming. It was fruitless to beg, but since the pain hadn't come yet, he tried, "Please, p-please take it off."
Through the fog, a sharp gaze cut through, focused on him. "Take what off?"
The humiliation of explaining himself. Was it worth the shame? Anything to be free. He was pitiful. The weakest. "Take it o-off my head, take the cage off my head, please."
Two inhales, one quick, one more like a gasp.
"What…"
"I don't know." The other said, firmly. "Do you think it would work if I…?"
"Worth a shot?" Her voice was shaken up. That wasn't right, for some reason.
"Hey. I'm going to take the cage off. Okay?"
Sanji couldn't believe it. He stilled his rocking, holding as completely motionless as he could manage. He didn't even breathe.
"Okay." The man sounded uncertain. "I'm going to pull it off now."
Hands touched his neck where he'd been yanking earlier, and pulled up, brushing his hair as they passed. The sensation had Sanji's hands flying up to clutch where his head was free, gripping his free hair with both hands as hard as he could, trembling with relief that the helmet was off.
"Thank you. Thank you." Sanji whispered, bowing to the floor, aware that the beating would be next, but it would be worth it. He wouldn't have to endure bugs crawling on his skin, unable to swat them off, or the horrific rattle of the cage when kicked.
"Hate this." The man murmured, followed by a sudden movement.
"What was that?" She asked.
"I threw it away." He said, firmly. "It's gone. What else do you need?"
Was he talking to Sanji? It was hard to tell. He raised his eyes just an inch off the floor and found that intense gaze once again behind green hair. He flinched and said, whispered quiet, "Just — just make it quick."
"Make what quick?"
Sanji shut his eyes, face burning. A dog being forced to beg for its punishment. He couldn't, instead curling up in a small ball, fingers dug deep in his hair as if it would stop the inevitable when the cage was placed back on.
"I have no idea what to do now." The man admitted.
"Let's — let's find a way out. Obviously being in here is fucking with him."
"Right."
Sanji was left alone, amazingly enough. The two searched the cell around him, muttering to each other, but it didn't matter. Other voices started to call out and filtered down the long hallway, making a racket of noise. A rattle of the bars opening. Sanji tensed, but didn't raise from his position.
"… just get us out of here. We'll figure it out from there."
"Hey, Sanji, it's time to go!" A cheerful voice informed him.
That… was not something he could do. He cringed closer into his ball.
"Okay! I'll take you!" The cheer told him, while other voices protested, but it was too late. He was lifted into a pair of soft arms, bouncing along.
That was harder to comprehend in Sanji's tiny worldview. Sounds changed. The air changed.
The air changed. By the time Sanji could smell salt, it was sweeping away all the fever that had clouded his perception. The dungeon air was gone. He was being set down on something soft, but not let go.
"Sanji is okay." Some one gently stroked his hair, carefully pulling his hands out of the death grip. "Let go. Don't hurt my Sanji."
My Sanji … ?
What was going on?
Somehow this was even more confusing than being locked in the dungeon. Now he was free (?) and somewhere warm. With someone who cared about him. Apparently.
He didn't need to keep the tight grip on his hair, at least, because familiar fingers were carding gently through the locks and reminding him with instant feedback that there was no cage. And while the awareness didn't make any actual sense, he understood vaguely that he was not a child, he was not trapped, and he was somewhere safe. It didn't stop the earthquake tremors or the rabbit of his heartbeat, but at least he wasn't surrounded by that hellish miasma anymore.
Possibly even multiple someone's who cared about him. The woman from before was sitting beside the squishy couch, leaning her weight against his side. The other man settled himself behind Sanji, drawing both him and the cheer to lean against him. And a hesitant new presence simply reached over everyone to hold his hand, uncurling his fingers from where they were digging nails into his palms without his hair to pull.
"What happened?" The new presence whispered.
"Being there triggered something." The woman said, sad. "Something really bad."
The rubber arms around him squeezed tighter, smile turning into a frown and pressing into Sanji's neck. Rubber?
"He hasn't shown any sign he knows where he is or who we are yet." The other voice rumbled behind him, supportive and strong.
"Sanji, come on, Sanji. You're home. You're on the Merry with your crew." The frowning-cheer coaxed.
Home? Cold dungeon. No. Noogies and cooking oil. Too far. Warm galley and laughter. Yeah. Home. That was why he felt safe. That was why he was surrounded by safety, with care, with people who would never lay a hand on him.
"Captain?" Sanji murmured, remembering enough. Rubber. His captain. He'd follow him anywhere. He was hoping to follow him all the way to the All Blue.
"Sanji." Luffy repeated, and didn't move away from his tremendous cling, pressing his face hard into Sanji's neck.
Sanji raised his head and met eyes with the two staring over Luffy's shoulder. Nami, curled up beside the couch with her warmth against his hips, and Usopp holding his hand, brows drawn together in worry.
And that left the grumbling support behind him to be Zoro. The right hand of the pirate king who humoured a terrified Sanji and pretended to throw away the cursed helmet so he'd feel better.
All at once, Sanji relaxed into all the warmth and support from all sides and breathed a shaky, "Well, fuck."