The last time Sanji remembered feeling this way was many years ago. He needed to protect Luffy and the entire crew, he needed to protect the Baratie and Zeff, who were being threatened by Big Mom and the Germa. He wanted so badly to return to the Sunny, but he couldn't risk it, ever. Maybe, just maybe, life would be good, marrying Pudding, living in Whole Cake, maybe even starting a family. He tried desperately to convince himself of this, that his selfish desire to return to his companions wasn't worth it, not when their lives were at risk. His past as Vinsmoke came back to haunt him, and he reconnected with all the people he once swore to forget.

Sanji's heart sank when he saw Nami, Luffy, and you reach the carriage with their happy smiles. He needed to push them away. If they wouldn't give up willingly, Sanji needed to force them to do so; it was for the greater good.

Every kick Sanji landed on Luffy was like a knife to his own chest, every harsh word rusting from his mouth. He didn't want to say any of it, but he had to. He was so numb that Nami's slap didn't even hurt his face, only leaving a red mark behind. But when your eyes met his, yours held a mixture of disappointment and something he couldn't quite identify.

He returned to the castle, and all he could think was what a piece of trash he was. He spat into the plate he ate, and even though he wasn't physically injured, his entire body ached with regret. He sat on the bed, trying to calm himself, but the tears wouldn't stop flowing. He clutched his hair, making sure the helmet Judge had once forced him to wear was gone, resting his elbows on his knees. He remembered all the voyages he'd taken with the crew, all the times his brothers had beaten him, every meal he'd made and been praised by the entire ship, all the times his father had called him a failure.

But then, in the midst of his breakdown, a figure burst into his room from the balcony, the cold night breeze rustling the curtains as he watched your figure slap against the moonlight. It was you. He thought you probably hated him now, but here you were, standing in front of him after everything he'd done.

"{{user}}? What...what are you doing here? It's dangerous—"