Chapter Text
In Sanji’s defense, he’d only turned around for ten seconds to hand the shopkeeper a handful of berri. That was, unfortunately, enough time for the Sunny’s resident mossball to disappear into the horizon.
At least it wasn’t a huge island, Sanji mused as he hung a bag of fresh fruits and vegetables from the crook of his elbow. It wouldn’t take more than a couple hours to find him, especially if the idiot decided to stay in place and take a nap rather than wander aimlessly.
The spring island they’d docked at was a welcome change from the storms they’d just weathered after departing from Wano. It also provided the crew with the opportunity to restock their dwindling resources. Sanji desperately needed to fill their pantry back up to feed their bottomless pit of a captain, and Chopper was running dangerously low on bandages after yet another skirmish with enemy ships.
Thankfully, the island didn’t seem to have any major Marine presence they had to worry about Luffy causing a ruckus in. The local residents were decently friendly, happy to sell goods to travelling pirates as long as they carried berri.
His other crewmates were just happy to take a load off. It’d been an easy decision for Sanji to volunteer to fulfill Chopper’s list, along with odds and ends for the others. Nami was running low on ink, after all, and he’d heard Usopp complaining that the latest storm had soaked his stock of gunpowder. They all deserved a day just to rest and explore.
It was easier still for Sanji to volunteer Zoro to be his pack-mule. That beast of a man had to be good for something, after all.
Of course, that did mean that Zoro had just wandered off with all their non-perishables, but Sanji wasn’t too worried. Even now, with their relationship strained from the shitstorm that was Whole Cake Island, there was still a mutual agreement that had been upheld since they started sailing together in the East Blue.
Neither man would ever dream of disrespecting the other’s craft. Zoro would keep the food safe.
And if Sanji had been hoping to have a heart to heart with the swordsman to resolve the muttered insults and scathing glares he’d been receiving since he returned to the crew, that was nobody’s business than his own.
Sanji deserved it, of course, even if the barbed comments stung. But he was determined not to let his past failures get in the way of serving his crew. They couldn’t afford to have Luffy’s right and left wings at each other’s throats, not when the stakes grew even higher with each island they docked at.
He needed to restock the liquor cabinet. Maybe he could find a nice bottle of sake, a peace offering to enter the crow’s nest during Zoro’s watch, since they couldn’t exactly have their talk with the mosshead currently missing.
Nami was always threatening to use Zoro’s allowance to buy him a leash. Maybe it wasn’t such a bad idea.
Sanji was just resolving himself to begin the hunt for Zoro when he heard a girlish scream, and Blackleg Sanji would always, always respond to a lady’s plight.
His feet were already pounding down the paved walkway, past the city gates and into the bordering forest. He didn’t doubt that other members of his crew would be on their way as soon as news of a commotion spread. Maybe, if he was lucky, Zoro would show up and save him the trouble of a long search. The man always did have a strange sixth sense for spilled blood.
The trees were in full bloom as he sprinted past, floral fumes permeating the air in a positively lovely scene. Maybe he’d prepare some treats and bring Nami and Robin here for a picnic later. Though, Chopper would beg to be brought along at the promise of sweets, and then Luffy and Usopp would invite themselves…
He’d need to pack several baskets.
Sanji’s mind was still calculating just how many finger sandwiches (and no cherry pie, Luffy inexplicably hated cherry pie) he’d need to prepare when he finally reached a clearing. It was comically villainous, really, the way a slimebag of a man towered over the terrified woman, a sneer on his ugly face.
Not a woman, no, he realized in disgust as he drove a steel-toed shoe directly into the greasy man’s nose. This was a child, a girl who was dripping fat tears into the skirt of her blue dress.
It wasn’t difficult to guess why the girl had been singled out, not with the extravagant silk bows around her waist and adorning her curled hair. Kidnapping the child of a wealthy figure made for a handsome sum of ransom money, after all.
The man hit a tree on the other side of the clearing with a sickening thud, sliding down the trunk into an unconscious heap. Sanji kicked him in the ribs, just for good measure. He’d notify local law enforcement later. The man would be out for a while yet, after all, and Sanji had someone far more important to attend to.
When he turned around, the girl was staring at him with frightened eyes and an open mouth, momentarily too shocked to speak, let alone scream.
Sanji dropped to one knee, arms spread loosely at his side, palms up and empty. He kept a wide berth between him and the child.
“It’s okay,” he said softly, nodding towards her would-be kidnapper. “He can’t hurt you anymore. Can I help you get home? I won’t come any closer unless you want me to.”
He wasn’t good with kids. His own early childhood had been a shitshow, and there hadn’t exactly been any other children his age on the Baratie. Zeff had done the best he could, but he hadn’t exactly been prepared to suddenly raise a traumatized, hot-headed brat.
Sanji tended to let his crew deal with any children they encountered. Usopp especially had a soft spot for kids, and Luffy kept them thoroughly entertained while Nami did damage control.
Though, he’d loved having Apis aboard back during their time in the East Blue. She was such a sweet girl, thoughtful and selfless. And with an interest in cooking, too, even if her skills would be well-honed by a little more practice and instruction.
He wondered how she was doing, now. Two years was a long time to grow for a little girl.
The girl slowly got to her feet, brushing dirt off her stockings. Her blue eyes narrowed, then opened wide with excitement.
“Are you… a prince?” She asked. “Like the fairy tales?”
Normally, the mention of being a prince had Sanji’s hackles rising. But the way this girl said it, like he was a hero in shining armor, had him melting.
Nami always was saying he had a white-knight complex. Maybe she wasn’t wrong.
He smiled. “No, not a prince. Just someone happy to help. My name’s Sanji.”
“Prince Sanji,” the girl whispered. She trotted to his side, delicate and uncalloused hands wrapping around his arm. She’d never seen a day of hard work in her life. “I’m Agatha! Will you take me home, prince Sanji?”
Sanji took Agatha’s hand in his own when he stood, her little fingers barely wrapping around two of his own. “Lead the way, my lady.” He said courteously, and she giggled.
They’d barely gone ten yards when something in his peripheral pinged. It was a relatively new sensation, but he’d come to recognize it as his Observation Haki spiking in warning. Someone was approaching, and it wasn’t his crewmates.
He scooped Agatha into his arms, resting her on his hip. The action was instinctive. If the goon he’d knocked out had backup, they’d be easy to dispose, but no lady should be forced to witness that kind of violence. Nor would he dream of putting her anywhere near harm’s way.
Sanji would just dispose of them after returning Agatha home, safe and sound. Nami or Robin may want to join in- he’d found both women to be rather vengeful when it came to the safety of a child.
“Hold on tight, okay?” He gave her a brief grin. “We’re going to be taking a shortcut back to town.”
Agatha hummed, and he prepared to Sky Walk.
“No,” she said suddenly. “I don’t think we will, Vinsmoke.”
There was a sharp prick in his neck, accompanied by a near-instant wave of dizziness.
Sanji swore under his breath, hurrying to set Agatha gently on the ground. A delicate syringe was still clutched between her little fingers.
What kind of monster used an innocent girl to do their dirty work?
“It’s okay,” he said, tumbling to his knees. “It’s okay. This isn’t your fault. My friends, they’re coming. Whatever these guys are holding over your head, they’ll take care of it, okay?”
His vision swam ruthlessly as his Observation Haki burned in his chest. He panted shallowly as Agatha approached, setting a cold hand against his cheek.
Sanji sucked in another breath of air, black spots dancing in his vision. “You… you need to run. Get yourself somewhere safe.”
Agatha’s answering chuckle froze something in his veins.
“Great work, number 472,” A curt, familiar voice called out. “Or should I say, Agatha?”
He knew that voice, even as his thoughts ran slow, too slow. It haunted his nightmares, provided background noise to the childhood flashbacks of his body strapped to a cold, metal table.
There was no way. Judge had exiled the man after he’d failed to “fix” his failure of a son.
“Dr. Vex…” Sanji breathed, and he heard a gleeful sound of affirmation.
“Ah, you remember!” Vex said, stepping into Sanji’s rapidly dimming line of sight. “That certainly makes things easier. I despise having to explain things unnecessarily, you know.”
That wasn’t true, Sanji thought dully, bracing his hands on the ground. The man never shut up, never stopped narrating exactly what modifications he was making to Sanji’s body, what the latest serum or shock or technology pumping through his veins would do.
He looked far less composed than Sanji remembered, at least. His gray hair, once shorn short to Germa standards, hung in greasy locks over a hollowed face. The man was gaunt, hard lines turned concave and empty.
Just another byproduct of the glory of the Germa kingdom, thrown away when they failed to be useful.
“Number 472, to me, if you will.”
Agatha dutifully went to stand by his side and Vex set a gloved hand on her shoulder. In front of his very eyes, her body slowly morphed and shifted, face horrifically twisting and melting like a wad of potter’s clay. Her delicate blue dress tore as her body lengthened and bulked, limbs growing gangly and long.
When their features finally settled, Sanji was looking at himself, clad in the ruined scraps of a child’s dress.
“What the fuck.” He said eloquently through numb lips.
Vex smiled eerily with perfect white teeth. “Magnificent, isn’t it? The power of a devil fruit, sister to the Clone-Clone edition. Only, instead of changing myself, I can only change the appearances of other people through touch. I stumbled upon it, rather by accident.”
He pulled a gun from his belt, and shot not-Sanji in the head. The sound of a gunshot ripped through the forest.
It was eerie, watching yourself crumple dead to the ground. His own eyes were wide, framed by the same curled eyebrows. They stared blankly into the sky above.
Hands grabbed at Sanji’s shoulders from behind, wrestling him out of his suit jacket.
Sanji summoned hot flames to his heels, the familiar rush of heat and passion and drive flowing through his blood and-
His cheek hit the grass, and he was promptly stripped to his underclothes.
“Dress 472.” Vex said flippantly to the identical clones holding him down. “Or, what’s left of it, I suppose. We have to make this convincing, and I’ve heard the Strawhats have quite the fashionista on their crew. The suit must be perfect.”
Sanji took a deep breath, trying to speed up his slowing heartbeat with a rush of oxygen, to tighten the loose gumminess of his slack limbs. “They’ll… they’ll find me. My crew. They’ll kill you.”
Luffy may have a no-killing rule. But when it came to a crewmate’s safety and well-being, his captain would stop at nothing. Not to mention, Robin had coolly informed him after a particular nightmare that with his permission, she would like to take a brief leave of absence to go kill his father.
He’d refused, of course, and pretended not to notice when several of his crewmembers looked disappointed. And if she felt that way about his father, Sanji’s primary torturer in his childhood of human experiments would likely meet a grim fate.
There was the crunch of grass underfoot, and spindly fingers traced delicately through Sanji’s golden hair, tugging briefly at the roots.
Sanji shuddered.
“Oh, they’ll find you, alright,” Vex said calmly. “Or rather, 472 with your face and clothing. I expect my experiments to take some time, and I can’t have Strawhat Luffy bursting down my door. Will they mourn you, I wonder?”
“No… no,” Sanji said, then drew in lungful of air. “LU-”
The gag abruptly shoved into his mouth tasted of old sweat. In a last burst of energy, Sanji clawed at the scientist’s arm, blunt nails dragging and ripping through Vex’s labcoat sleeve to gouge his skin.
Damaging his hands was Sanji’s worst nightmare. But this, this was so much worse.
Somebody cuffed him in the head, and his head lolled, ears ringing. When the clones dragged him up by the shoulders, not-Sanji was already dressed in his clothing. Even his tie was perfectly knotted, exactly how a right-handed person would do it around his own neck.
Vex was many horrible, horrible things. A man who conducted experiments on a child was nothing short of a monster, even compared to Germa’s king himself. He was, Sanji would admit, also a genius.
“Let’s get him out of here,” he heard Vex command, distantly. “We don’t want to be anywhere near here when they find the body, we can be sure of that.”
Sanji felt himself be dragged away, tossed roughly into something that rolled. Everything was gray, cold.
He was going to die, Sanji realized with mounting dread, and it was going to be slowly at the hands of a man he feared more than his biological father. For a moment, he envied the not-Sanji back in the forest.
The dead couldn’t feel pain, after all.
As Sanji’s eyes fluttered closed, body limp, he heard the horrible sound of Luffy screaming in the distance.