One Piece Fan Fiction ❯ The Pirate In The Doll ❯ Part Four ( Chapter 4 )
[ X - Adult: No readers under 18. Contains Graphic Adult Themes/Extreme violence. ]
By: Manga-Chick 
Rating T+
Anime/Manga: One Piece Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Horror / Supernatural | Type: Alternate Universe | Uploaded On: 11.28.2007 | Updated On: 11.29.2007 | Pages: 5 | Words: 8.7K | Visits: 233 | Status: Completed
Rating T+
Anime/Manga: One Piece Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Horror / Supernatural | Type: Alternate Universe | Uploaded On: 11.28.2007 | Updated On: 11.29.2007 | Pages: 5 | Words: 8.7K | Visits: 233 | Status: Completed
Disclaimer: I do not own One Piece
Warning: Horror, slash, AU
A/N: Dialogue taken off a translating site...so forgive me. Sometimes the translations aren’t accurate. . I apologize in advance. Oh yeah! And I know the dialogue isn't entirely appropriate for the 1930's...o.O Um, I don't think they used modern day slang of today, but...I just think it's neater that way. XD (counts Blade of the Immortal as inspiration for such things)
And, as always, thanks for the reviews!
The Pirate In The Doll:
Part Four
Zoro knew it was bad when he walked up to the construction site and found a large crowd of angry workers milling around, the area closed off. He looked up at the uncompleted skeleton of the high rise, shaking his head in disgust. Without venturing any further, he muttered an expletive and then turned and began to head back home. He knew that construction was slowing, and had even come to a stop around the city and throughout the country. With the economical crash, he was wondering when his luck would run out. Now he had to make serious efforts in locating some sort of a job before he found himself on the streets.
That was one thing that bothered him–if Sanji was in the same bind as him (as were thousands of others), why in the world did the blond spring for such a purchase? The doll was probably the man’s food supply money for the next few weeks. Zoro rolled his eyes and thought that Sanji was one of the bigger idiots that he’d ever known.
The day passed, and early evening found Zoro at home, unsuccessful with his job searching efforts. There were just too many men needing a job, and so little employers. Frustrated, he decided to sleep the rest of the hours left and maybe think a little more about what had happened the night before. It was hard to focus on one thing when there were so many other things happening.
But he didn’t get to–practically a moment after he’d laid his head down to sleep, Luffy and Ussop had barged into his apartment. The former was angry over the loss of his job, and the latter was weepy but already making plans to leave the city for something else in the country. While they argued amongst each other over the idiocy over that, Zoro realized he wasn’t going to get any sleep at all.
There was no way in hell he was going to tell them about what had happened the night before, but he really wasn’t looking forward (for once) to spending the night with a man he suddenly wasn’t certain of. Thinking of Sanji’s apartment, Zoro decided to put the other two to work.
-
Sanji found himself outside the curio shop on his way home from work. People were losing their jobs left and right. The restaurant was losing its customers; in this time of economical hardship, many were unable to spend. As a result, the workers weren’t being paid as much as they should be. At the same time, living expenses were still high. He still had rent to make, utilities to keep. It wasn’t much–the building he lived in provided enough for him to get by, but money was money. And money was rapidly disappearing, leaving behind severe debts. He knew with some heavy confidence that he would be out of a job soon.
He was regretting buying that doll–Gin, he remembered. But the day he’d seen it was the day when he’d felt that he absolutely needed it. Swallowing hard, he stared at the spot where he’d first seen Gin. He was trying to remember what it was that prompted him to buy the cursed thing.
He would have to watch his food supplies. With the way things were today, fresh vegetables, fruits and other sources were becoming more and more expensive. There were farms failing; crops dying. He would have to stick to what he was going to be able to keep for more than a few days. Which reminded him, he needed more ice for the icebox. He sighed low, and began the walk home.
By the time he found himself in front of his apartment, he was regretting yelling at Zoro; he knew for his own reasons that Zoro was behaving like an idiot, but Sanji felt that it was his own fault for snapping that way in a moment of weakness. He pulled his key out of his pocket and paused. There were noises coming from his apartment–moving thumps, shifting furniture, heavy footfalls.
Fear caused him to stiffen. He then turned and started to walk away, unsure over what he was going to do. He stopped at the top of the stairway, gritting his teeth. He wasn’t going to let this thing chase him away. It had a name–it had a past. ...sort of. Sanji stood there for a few moments, then lowered himself to sit at the top of the stairs. Reaching into his left breast pocket, he drew out the half smoked cigarette he’d been saving and a box of matchsticks. He lit it, savoring the taste and smell, holding the smoke in his lungs for as long as he was able. Then he exhaled as slowly and gently as possible, wanting to make this cigarette last. He closed his eyes, focused intensely on the hand-rolled fag before shifting slightly to allow a couple of men to walk past him.
He took another long inhale of his cigarette, opening his eyes to stare bleakly at the landing. Exhaling reluctantly, he carefully stubbed it out and then put it away. He stood and slowly made his way back to his own apartment, unsure of what he was going to do. He glanced over at Zoro’s door, then lifted his hands to look at his damaged fingernails. He was missing two–three were half broken, and there were still splinters in four fingernail beds. Sighing low, Sanji lowered his hands, then drew out his key once more. Surely the Depression was much more important than some deranged toy that–
His door was open. With apprehension, Sanji pushed it and walked in, stilling. Two sets of faces looked at him in surprise, various objects in their arms. Without hesitation, he kicked in the face of the man closest to him while the other one shrieked and ran in circles, looking for a way out. By the time the first flew over the kitchen counter, Sanji was running up to the other, drawing his left leg back for a kick that was going to send the other flying.
The paper divider, clumsily held together by yarn, was swept aside as Zoro popped up from behind it with a sleepy surprised expression. Sanji paused, a little outraged that while he was being robbed, Zoro was sleeping in his bed. He aimed to kick him as well when Zoro caught his foot with an easy block and sent him flying with a shove. Sanji caught himself from falling by kicking out a leg to brace himself against the wall, and used his arms to steady himself.
“Geez, calm down!” Zoro ordered, wincing when Luffy finally picked himself up from the kitchen floor. The younger man was very unsteady on his feet, clutching the sink tightly as he groaned. Ussop hadn’t gained consciousness yet. “You just beat down the guys that cleaned up your shitty place, idiot cook.”
Sanji straightened, giving the other two incredulous looks. Luffy collapsed back onto the floor with a loud moan. “What? They’re with you?” He then noticed that his apartment was very clean.
“Yeah, they’re with me!”
Sanji frowned, but he put on a haughty air. “Huh...well then...my bad.”
Seeing that was as close as an apology as he was going to get, Zoro sighed. He heaved Ussop to his feet, struggling with dead weight. “We lost our jobs, today. We had some time to dick around. Don’t go thanking me or anything.”
“Er...well...I’ll cook something,” Sanji muttered. But inwardly he winced. It was going to be a huge chunk out of his already small food supply. Still...looking around his cleaned apartment, seeing how well the two men (because it was apparent the green haired man was sleeping the entire time, the lazy ass) put things back together again, made him want to repay the favor.
“Their names are Luffy and Ussop, by the way,” Zoro said, nodding in the former’s direction. Both of them looked over when Luffy ducked suddenly, then straightened, holding up a very familiar object.
“This belong to you, too?” Luffy asked sluggishly, waving the doll in the air, blood dripping from his lip. He leaned over and spit a tooth into the sink.
Sanji’s visible eye widened, and he strode forward to snatch it out of his hand. “How did you–?!”
“I saw its head poking out of the hole. I thought it was a rat, but it just kept sitting there,” Luffy said with a grin, using his foot to show where he’d found the hole.
Both men leaned over to see a fist-sized hole underneath the sink, near the drain. Sanji wondered how he’d missed that; but then again, such things weren’t unusual in a building like this one, and he hadn’t even given it a second thought. To know that the doll was so close made him feel like an idiot.
Zoro dropped Ussop and joined him as they looked at the doll. Luffy was confused as he watched the two older men gape at a child’s toy. He squinted hard, absolutely befuddled as he took in the dirtied doll; its stringy hair was tied into a ponytail with a faded ribbon. The dress was in tatters. The feet were missing its shoes. Its face was scarred, but one could see the individual eyelashes, the painted lips.
“It looks...like a regular doll,” Zoro growled, snatching it from Sanji and turning it over in his hands as he examined it. Once more, when he lifted his fingers, soot appeared over the pads. Sanji snatched it back, shaking his head.
“Maybe this is a different doll–!”
“It’s not! It’s the same one you bought!”
“But it’s a girl–!”
“That guy said the doll took on the pirate’s form after time! What does this mean?! The doll’s back to normal, so does this mean that the guy’s no longer in there?! That just makes things even worse!”
“I know that, asshole! Why do you insist on telling me the obvious?!”
“Hey, fuck you! I was thinking out loud! It helps me!”
“I always knew you were a brain dead idiot, and this proves it!”
“Aw, go to hell, you blond dick on a stick.”
“...That’s new.”
Luffy was confused. He had no idea what they were talking about, and Ussop was finally regaining consciousness. He washed the blood from his face and hands, then walked over to Zoro and Sanji. With an expression of thought, he asked, “Is this the doll you were asking about yesterday, Zoro? That one that was making your friend freak out?”
Zoro made a face, then belatedly slapped a hand over his mouth. Sanji glared at Zoro, lowering the doll. “What. ‘Freak out’?”
“Don’t listen to him! He’s an idiot! He doesn’t know what he’s saying!”
“But Zoro–! West Main Curio!” Luffy protested as he shoved Zoro’s hand from his face. “We were there! We–!”
Sanji flung the doll onto the floor, growling. “Sticking your stupid nose into my stupid business, marimo! What the fuck?!”
“I just wanted to make sure that you were telling the truth!”
“...What’s ‘marimo’?” Luffy asked curiously, then watched the two men growl, facing each other menacingly. He grinned, popping up next to Zoro as Ussop slowly picked himself up from the floor. “Wow, you two must be really close friends. How come we never met before...uh...what’s your name?”
“Why wouldn’t I tell the truth?!” Sanji exclaimed over Luffy's questions. He snatched the doll from the floor then stomped toward the kitchen. He flung it into the sink, snarling and growling the entire way as he began to pull out various pots and pans.
“Look, the only reason why I was there was because–” Zoro started to say before he ducked a flying pot. Ussop wasn’t so fortunate, and Luffy winced as the curly-haired man hit the floor for the second time that night.
“Shut it, ass ape! I don’t want to hear anymore shit from you!”
“Oh, yeah, real appropriate choice of–!” Zoro then stopped, realizing that Luffy was still watching them closely, a cheery smile spreading his lips thin. Zoro scowled and crossed his arms heavily over his chest. “I can never win with you! Everything I do is wrong!”
“Shut it with the self-pity, marimo!” Sanji growled, brandishing a knife that made Luffy duck.
Luffy grimaced, then found his attention diverted from the men’s shouting. He went completely stiff, feeling his own skin pimple with goosebumps. Because as Sanji and Zoro hollered at each other, distracted, the doll in the sink had pulled itself up, the head turning to look in his direction. As it stayed in that peculiar position for a few moments, one arm lifted and slowly moved from side to side in a wave.
Luffy couldn’t swallow. It was both eery and fascinating at the same time. Everything within sight and sound faded until he was focused completely on the ghoulish doll that continued to peer out from the sink at him. He gave a little start when the doll disappeared from view, falling back into the sink with noticeable sound.
Later, after all the plates were cleaned, Luffy returned his attention to the doll. Sanji had pinned it to his own cabinet with the use of a butcher knife. The morbid sight was enough to make two of the four men nervous and anxious, and matters weren’t helped any with the other two emitting auras of fury and disgust.
All of them were sitting on the floor, listening to the sounds of life all around them through the thin walls. Luffy was only half-delighted in that Sanji prepared food that was amazingly memorable, but his attention was focused entirely on the doll. Ussop was jittery and nervous over the violence he’d received, and kept darting looks all around them, ready to run if Sanji threw another fit. Somehow, the three had been convinced by Luffy to discuss job options, so that they had a plan of action for tomorrow.
Luffy kept waiting for it to move again. He didn’t bring any attention to it by verbal command, thinking that perhaps he’d just imagined things.
It was nearly ten when Luffy and Ussop finally made their leave. Zoro had moved to follow them when Sanji caught his shirt and held him back, daring him to say something in front of the two that were already out of view. With a heaving sigh, Zoro stepped back into the apartment and shut the door.
“It’s too late for this shit, idiot cook–”
“Let’s compare notes, marimo.”
“... ‘Notes’? On...on what?”
“You know what.” Sanji retook his position on the floor, where the four of them had been sitting earlier. With a glance at the doll that was still pinned to the cabinet door, he waited for Zoro to settle across from him. He took out his cigarette and lit it, taking the same measures as previous. By the time he’d savored two deep inhalations and exhalations, he stubbed out the cigarette and set both matches and cig aside.
“I shouldn’t have bought it,” he then confessed, a little grudgingly. “I’m going to be tight for...hopefully a week. I won’t be able to cook for you.”
“Er...okay?”
“Other than that, you heard the same story I did, right?”
Zoro grunted. He wanted nothing more than to go to sleep after such a hectic night, but it looked as if Sanji wasn’t going to let him go so easily. And, besides, Zoro was also aware that Sanji had apologized to him once more–he was forgiven, and it made Zoro feel a little better.
“Yeah. But,” he flicked his eyes over at the doll, “now I feel like I have to believe it.”
Sanji gave him a grave look. He rose, taking a few moments to turn off the repaired lamp. Rustling around, he sat back down with a couple of candles, lighting them carefully before settling back down. “I wish I knew what to do. I don’t think destroying the doll will make it go away.”
“Why is it so focused on you, anyway?”
“How the fuck should I know? Well, I bought the thing. Stupidest decision I ever made...”
“Yeah,” Zoro said with a snort. He glanced around apprehensively. “How do you know when it’s around?”
“I don’t know. Look. I–I’ll keep an eye out. Job wise,” Sanji said slowly, frowning slightly. “You have a reserve, right? A, I don’t know, secret stash of sort?”
“No,” Zoro said, relaxing backward to fold his hands behind his head. “Can’t trust people around here.”
“You don’t have any reserve funds?! Do you know how stupid that is?!”
“Geez. I made enough to pay my rent, buy me food and booze...what else did I need?”
Sanji palmed his forehead.
Zoro sat up, elbow on a knee.
Sanji stared at him for a few moments, and Zoro had to wonder if he’d said the wrong thing. Then panicked because he had to wonder if Sanji was getting clingy on him. At the same time...he felt that very distinct possibility in that he was gleeful for getting something out of the blond when it came to feelings for him.
He cleared his throat loudly. “Er...anyway...I’m not really worried about things too much.”
“You wouldn’t,” Sanji muttered, threading his fingers together. For a few minutes, the pair sat in silence, lost in their own thoughts.
A sharp piercing creak caused them both to jolt. When they looked up, every drawer and cabinet door was open. The sink was running at a trickle.
Zoro felt that feeling of being eyed–his skin rippled with unease. Thinking of last night, seeing the man that mimicked his every move, that pushed him, that made picking up a six foot man seem like it was nothing, Zoro rose from his sitting position and brushed off his pants.
“Gin!” he boomed, startling himself and Sanji as the other rose, handling the candles carefully. “Coward! We aren’t the kid you last fucked over. What the hell do you want?! Why can’t you just show up to the both of us like a fucking man, instead of playing stupid little parlor tricks?”
Silence reigned, and after a few moments, Zoro felt foolish. He felt his skin heat with embarrassment for saying something out loud, when it wasn’t even guaranteed he’d be given an answer. He reached up to scratch at the back of his head when the candles in Sanji’s hands went out.
“Turn those back on!” Zoro screeched, rather unmanly like.
“I didn’t do it!” Sanji screeched back.
They both froze, unconsciously easing close together until they bumped elbows. Then they pushed at the other to give themselves space, both embarrassed by the gesture.
It began slowly–a low whisper of a chuckle that grew in volume. It was almost as if it were coming from all around them. Skin rippled with cold and unease, and hair rose straight up.
‘Man? No...not coward...man?’
“Fuck this,” Zoro muttered, marching toward the door.
“Mari–! Coward!” Sanji hissed after him, but he was following just as quickly. He paused, then hurried to the cabinet that had the doll pined to it. Pulling it into his grasp, he then left the apartment after Zoro, cradling the doll to his chest. “Running away from that son of a bitch isn’t going to solve anything!”
“Then you go back in there and tell him that!” Zoro exclaimed. “I had enough of this Haitian voodoo bullshit! What the fuck? I didn’t ask for this! You bought the doll, you do something about it! Besides, it’s all fixated on you!”
“How was I supposed to know that the doll was going to–!”
“That should teach you to not spend so frugally in the future!”
Sanji threw his hands up in exasperation. “Fine. You green-haired pussy. I’ve known cold shrimp that was more braver than you.”
Zoro scoffed. “Insult me all you want, dartboard face. You and your curly eyebrow can deal with that shit on your own. I didn’t buy the thing, so therefore, I don’t have any responsibility for it or its actions.”
“...Moron.” But Sanji stiffened his shoulders and walked back to his apartment. Without a word, he let himself in and closed the door behind him.
Zoro watched him go, hesitating. But the moment the door closed behind Sanji, he grimaced. With a growl, he opened the door to his home and walked inside, making sure to slam the door to let everyone know of his inner turmoil.
-
Meanwhile, Sanji clutched the doll close to him, keeping his back to the door. The darkness and coldness of his apartment was chilling–he swallowed tightly, feeling the sensation of being watched very closely. The longer he stood there, the more apparent were the breathing noises.
Before he could say anything, a shape took form near the furthest corner of his apartment. He was startled to actually see it, watching a shoulder flex as a bushy head bobbed with some erratic movement. Sanji was frozen solid–he wasn’t actually sure if he wanted to confront the thing or run away. His lungs were tight as the form shifted away from the corner, disappearing completely. The breathing noises grew louder next to him, and he repressed the urge to flail or run for cover. Every one of his hairs on that side rose straight up, skin rippling with icy cold.
Shadows shifted alongside him, and suddenly the doll was slapped right out of his hands. This time Sanji emitted a girlish shriek, jerking backward only to hit the wall. The doll rattled as it skidded across the floor, coming into plain view of the moonlight that filtered in through the window. Sanji stared around himself, pressing himself into the corner to at least feel some sort of stability. His skin broke out into a clammy sweat. The floorboards creaked suddenly, the sound of heavy boots moving over the area making his ears ring. For some reason, his attention drew down to the doll that was bathed in the moonlight. He saw the shadow on the floor first–almost as if a body had just planted itself in front of the window, bushy head bent in contemplation.
Sanji’s mouth was dry, his head ringing as the footsteps stopped abruptly with the shift. When his eyes darted to the window, there was nothing there. But within the shadowed reflection of the window, he clearly saw the outline of the man standing over the doll. The contrasts were frightening.
His breath caught in his throat as shadow moved. The doll was nudged once before being lifted. Somewhere, eerily, Sanji heard the faint murmurs of a child crying for its mother. At first he thought it was coming from the doll–it made his stomach curl and pitch. As the doll paused in mid-air, held aloft by a tall man holding it at chest level, Sanji felt his teeth chatter. The silence, save for the abnormal cries that seemed to come from everywhere at once, was absolutely heavy. It felt as if no one else existed in the world, save for the doll that was held by invisible hands.
‘Bizette...’ came the otherworldly murmur. Before Sanji could register the name, the doll was flung fiercely at him. The child began screaming–frantic, panicked screams that made his blood run cold. The doll hit him and fell to the floor, the child’s cries absolutely blood curdling. Sanji’s hands flew to his ears, trying to block out the noises even as he registered the telltale footsteps of boots over his floor. The vibrations under his worn shoes told him that the malicious ghost was coming towards him.
Just as he’d felt heavy breath against his hair, his eyes squeezing shut in automatic reaction, the world fell silent. Still. It took Sanji a few moments for this to register, his hands shaking as he pulled them from his head. He could smell the borscht cooking next door, the telltale thumps of movement in the hall. Someone’s laughter rang out, and a baby cried over screaming parents’ raised voices.
Trembling violently, Sanji fell into a crouch. His apartment felt incredibly empty at that moment–the temperature had returned to normal. His hair was incredibly staticky, though, and he registered this as he touched his head.
-
‘...Mon chouchou, vous m'avez désobéi de nouveau, et avez négligé mes souhaits. Je suis déçu et fâché avec toi.’ (1)
Sanji felt himself quiver upon hearing those whispered words near his ear. He wasn’t sure how he’d fallen asleep, but the moment he realized that he did, he felt violated. He was in his bed, he realized. On his back, hands folded on his stomach. He could smell the rotten breath of a man that had bad hygiene, and his stomach twisted. But he couldn’t move. He heard the words whispered so close to his ear, skin tingling with electricity, but he couldn’t see him. It.
It was so dark in his room–he couldn’t see anything. It was as if the window had been covered by thick, heavy material. The world was shuttered out, and he truly felt alone, if not for this menacing and malicious presence beside him that made his very bones quiver.
‘Vous ne me parlerez pas d'une façon si irrespectueuse encore. Je n'aime pas quand vous refusez, ou quand vous parlez de nouveau B moi d'une façon si effrontée. Vous parlerez me correctement, et sans impudence. Est-ce que c'est de quelque façon peu clair?’ (2)
Sanji’s breath coming in shaky pants from slightly open lips. He had no idea what was being said, but the very chill in hearing something that was spoken so menacingly made him realize that it wasn’t a good thing. Despite the fact that he had cookbooks and recipe books in French, he personally didn’t know enough to be fluent with the language. Fear made it even harder to attempt to translate.
“I–I don’t know what you’re saying. I don’t fucking speak–!”
He felt icy cold fingers on his forehead, and even as he felt that survival instinct of moving quickly, his entire body was frozen solid. Nothing would obey. Nothing would lift to his command, and his mind raced with panicked fear and horror as he felt each individual digit sweep over the clamminess of his skin, brushing his hair aside. His breath came in short spasms. He could smell the sulphur and rot that came from this vile thing.
“...why?” he heard himself whisper, unable to get his voice louder than that. “What did I do...?”
The hand on his forehead flinched, then lifted to grab a handful of his hair, yanking it hard and making him give a short cry of pain and shock. ‘Une telle rébellion de quelqu'un tellement tout B fait inutile!’ (3)
“...W-what?”
‘Je vous enseignerai B me traiter sans respect! Je, votre maître, votre sauveur! J'étais celui qui vous a plumé des ravages de votre maison! Je vous ai abrité et ai protégé, et ici vous vous rebellez contre moi avec vos affections B l'autre!’ (4)
“I don’t know what you’re saying! Shitty asshole, just leave me alone!” Sanji then cried, tensing at the utterly furious aura that was now emitting from the man–the demon. He felt utterly helpless and vulnerable as the man continued to rant and rave in a language he couldn’t even try to translate.
Suddenly he choked, feeling the strength in icy hands that burned around his throat. Reflexively he reached up, curling his own fingers around the ones that felt like steel. He couldn’t draw in breath, his lungs automatically squeezing. He kicked and flailed, hitting steady and iron-hardened arms. He could feel his face heating and pulsing with pressure, his mouth opening wide, his throat trying to swallow air that wasn’t coming.
‘I...am...not...dead,’ Gin whispered in broken English, and Sanji could hear his teeth clicking with every word. ‘You hide behind your lover’s back! The sea takes many lives, but it hadn’t taken mine! It took me months to come back home!’
Sanji absorbed the words. Some of it was faintly explanatory–but it wasn’t the time to focus and think about them. He choked, kicking the bed, struggling to be released. His fingers clawed upward, searching for anything vulnerable. But they only swatted through air, scraped against the wall.
When he was finally released, he choked and gagged, his throat feeling as if it had been crushed. Flopping off the bed, he struggled to breathe, hearing heavy boots tromping around him, a hunter circling his prey. Even as wild fear made his limbs stiffen, his gut clenching with apprehension and mortal fear for his soul, Sanji couldn’t get the strength to get up and move.
When he opened his eyes, he was more than startled to see that his apartment was gone. Instead he was looking at a hardwood floor, stained by colors he didn’t want to guess the origins of. He could smell the sea–so salty and wet. Gulls cried, and waves battered the beach. He remembered the dream of which he hadn’t any particular details of. But almost as soon as he registered this, thoughts of unbidden memory came to him.
And suddenly Sanji felt crazed, insane. Because while he knew his true self was huddled on the floor of a derelict apartment in a city that struggled with the effects of the Depression, he was also in clear apprehension that the sugar cane plantation in Haiti was a French owned property that he happened to be an employee of. And this mad man, this pirate he’d only seen once while he was serving his employers and their guests, had taken it upon himself to claim him in his mind only.
He registered his fear, disbelief and utter cluelessness as the maddened pirate circled around him, breathing heavily in agitation. The morning had yet to receive the sun’s rays–and yet slaves were already up and moving outside the servants’ quarters. Sanji could hear them–but he knew they were keeping a wide berth from his open window, and he could see their questioning eyes and hear their fear-filled whispers. It was truly frustrating that they wouldn’t come to his aid simply because he was higher-ranked and a different color than they were.
Utter fear paralyzed his bones–but as he lifted his eyes, they alighted on the doll that lay, crisp and neat, on the floor. Immediately, the image of the plantation owner’s youngest daughter came to mind. Their Bizette...and Sanji was confused...he had to wonder why the doll was lying there in his own quarters.
He heard the crashing sound of the waves breaking along the shoreline, and just as he closed his eyes to blink, he felt the crushing weight of a boot upon his back, a sharp curse ringing through the air. When Sanji opened them, he was back in the darkness, searching for anything to throw or use against the malevolent ghost that made the air quiver with his anger and fury.
“I don't even know who you are!” he whispered hoarsely, unable to speak louder than that. “I don't even know why–!”
‘You were supposed to wait!’
He hit the wall, twisted, and kicked. Relief like he’d never felt hit him when his heel connected with something human. The moment his heel connected, he sent his other leg in the very same spot, and he heard the loud crash of a large human body slamming into the kitchen cabinets. Gin’s scream of outrage and fury was high pitched and ear ringing–unearthly. But it was enough for Sanji to climb to his feet and run like mad for the door. The locks jittered as his hands fumbled with them, and he was quite sure Gin was getting up from the floor, heaving animalistic growls that made Sanji’s skin ripple.
Once Sanji realized that his door wasn’t locked, he locked them out of sheer panic. Then as he fumbled to unlock them, Gin was up and over the counter, eyes glowing blood red and heavy shadow obscuring his form. Before he could do anything, Gin was on him, icy hands curling over his head and shoulders. There was a tremendous bang!, and then intense darkness and silence.
-
Zoro stood outside of Sanji’s door the next morning. He had heard nothing last night–but then again with how tired he was, he’d pretty much slept until twenty minutes ago. He felt unsure and a little gruff with guilt in that he’d let Sanji walk away from him. By now, Zoro was pretty much convinced that the tale of the doll was true. There just wasn’t any other explanations that there could be when it came to the ghost. There were just too many strange things that weren’t easily written off as day-to-day things.
But he felt foolish to admit this. He’d never heard of anything stranger than this situation, and it wasn’t easy to accept that such things existed. And it certainly didn’t help matters that his feelings for the other man were too much to ignore. This stabbed him in the gut.
“Shit,” he muttered, wiping his nose and then staring at the door that stood between himself and Sanji. And the ghost. He frowned, lips drawing tight until he knocked on the door.
He didn’t think Sanji had gone to work, yet. He didn’t smell the telltale scent of his hand-rolled cigarette, and Zoro knew Sanji had to have a few puffs before leaving.
He knocked again when there wasn’t an answer, then turned to leave, figuring Sanji had left early. But when there came two staccato knocks on the other side of the door, Zoro froze. He stared at the wood, wondering if he’d heard what he had.
Without thinking, he lifted a hand and knocked again. There was an answering knock that made him jump back, then scowl.
“Sanji! Open up!” he demanded. “Stop fucking around!”
For a few moments, he waited. Listening for the telltale sound of the locks being removed, or for weight to shift upon the floor. Instead, he found himself leaping back when a heavy thump against the other side of the door rang out, the wood vibrating with almost angry violence.
Hairs standing on end, Zoro flattened himself against the wall. Then hurried off, eager to get out of the area.
-
That night, Zoro sipped at his pint. All around him were miserable men that were fretting over the loss of their jobs, or in danger of losing the one they had. There was a radio next to him that relayed the day’s current events overseas. Finishing off his pint, he left behind a few coins for the bartender and walked off. He managed to find the curio shop, but there was a sign in the window that told him it was closed for good. With a scowl, Zoro peered inside, looking for any sign of the owner and seeing nobody.
Frowning, he turned and started making his way home, careful to keep his eyes on the signs and landmarks. He was infamous for getting lost all the time. But tonight was different–he knew that he was deliberately taking his time, hoping he’d run into the blond cook on his way home from work. When he reached the apartment building, he was a little disappointed that he hadn’t. It meant he would have to go back home to ghosts and coughing men and crying babies. He kept hoping Sanji was waiting for him as he walked up to their shared floor, but there wasn’t any sign.
In fact, the entire floor was silent.
Zoro tried not to be too spooked–even if the walls were thin, that one could hear everything, he had to assume that it was a great coincidence that nobody was home yet. His footsteps rang out, measured and heavy. He winced with each step and tried to walk more lightly. As he paused in front of his door and took out a key, Zoro strained to listen for any signs of life coming from Sanji’s apartment.
Then he stilled. He heard the familiar sounds of a radio playing, Billie Holiday belting out a cheery tune. It was coming from the blond’s apartment. With a frown, unable to remember if Ussop had been able to put the radio back together, Zoro walked over. He was a little leery of knocking on the door–this morning had been rather surprising.
So he set his ear close against the wood and listened. All he could hear was Billie Holiday. He exhaled slowly, then reached up to place his hand on the knob. He turned it, hoping against hope that it wasn’t locked. When he realized that it wasn’t, he stilled. But as he did, pain flared up through his very skin, scorching his palm and fingers and forcing him to cry out.
He jumped away from the door, hissing as he lifted his hand to observe burnt skin. The stench was hideous, and the pain was consuming. But he blew against it, waving it in the air as he ventured back toward the door. As he stilled once more, he realized Billie Holiday was being muted–her voice slowly dwindling until there was nothing but silence. His skin rippled with a heavy chill, and he resisted the urge to rub his arms.
Listening, Zoro became quite aware that there still wasn’t any sounds on this floor. No movement, no voices, no telltale creaks and moans of bodies moving over wood. But he strove to ignore that, focusing intently on Sanji’s apartment.
Slowly he grew aware of the telltale rise and fall of heavy breath. The very same he’d heard in his own apartment two nights back. With a frown, Zoro tilted away from the door. He looked down at the bottom of it, toward the open slot. There wasn’t any light coming from it, but he could clearly see the shadowy set of boots on the other side of the door. He didn’t recognize those boots. While curious to what this thing looked like, he really didn’t feel it in him to see at that moment.
Instead, Zoro slowly walked away.
-
The silence was unsettling. Zoro didn’t understand why it was so quiet. Usually he would be able to hear his neighbors moving all around him. The telltale sounds of their feet upon cheap tile and wood; the crashes children make when playing; the voices; the scents and sounds of cooking...everything was gone. And it was really bothering him.
Pacing in his own apartment, Zoro kept his ears strained to hear any sound of Sanji, but there was nothing to tell him that Sanji was even home. Save for the radio that continuously played Billie Holiday. It was the same song over and over again–but he knew for a fact that Sanji wasn’t a fan of Billie Holiday; he was more in the twanging guitars of country singers. He grit his teeth, flexing his arms as he paced.
Why wasn’t there any sounds?!
It was driving him crazy. He should have been able to at least hear something coming from the floor above and beneath his, and from his neighbors around him. But there was absolutely nothing.
The city was still alive outside–the sounds of boat horns, heavy foot traffic, loud rumbling vehicles...but it was as if the very apartment building was an entire different world apart from the city.
Zoro finally resolved to brave whatever it was Gin was doing, and marched from his apartment to Sanji’s. Without any warning, Zoro rammed his shoulder into the door, the cheap wood cracking under force and swinging wildly to hit the wall with a loud, reverberating bang. Zoro expected an attack, a barrage of sharp, thrown things. But as he relaxed, he saw nothing.
Only Sanji standing silently by the window, gazing downward.
“HEY!” Zoro barked, feeling relief flood through him at the sight of the other. The room smelled musty...coated with iron. It made him wince, pressing a forearm against his nose as he struggled to keep his eyes from stinging and from his alarm to overcrowd the rest of his senses. “Hey, what the hell? Why are you...playing...games...?”
He trailed off because Sanji hadn’t acknowledged him. Nor did he flinch or move from his position by the door. Zoro’s brow furrowed, and he grit his teeth. Glancing around, he saw that everything was in its place. Yet, the kitchen cabinets were wide open. The drawers hanging out of their alignments. The bed was neatly made and there were cigarette wrappers and a tobacco pouch on the counter. The air was extremely chilly, and wood popped and moaned underfoot.
Zoro frowned. There was something about the situation, about the way Sanji stood that made him ultra-cautious. He heard the door swing shut, but that was automatic–it wasn’t as if there was anything back there. He stepped forward, reaching out to grab at the blond’s shoulder when he hesitated.
He didn’t see Sanji’s reflection in the window.
Zoro took a step back, feeling every hair stand on end. He turned to leave when he realized that the door was splattered with blood. There were splashes on the floor and the wall. The floor was covered in it near the bed area. As he continued to stare, he realized that the bed was heavy, foul with blood. The doll was crushed, left in tatters at the foot of the bed. There was a knife lying on the floor, coated with congealed liquids. There was also a weapon sitting nearby–the round ball was coated with bits of matter and congealed blood, the baton dried with similar substances.
When Zoro shifted, he saw that he’d left blood imprints of his boot treads with every step. With a sound of distress, Zoro whipped around to face Sanji for answers when he realized that the blond wasn’t there.
His blood ran cold.
‘Il sait,’ came the whisper, and it was from everywhere at once. In his mind, he could hear the man speaking to him, as one would in a confessional booth. ‘Il me tuera… Je suis seulement désolé pour se faire attraper. Mais je ne regrette pas de le prendre pour le mien. Toujours mine. Il était mon une bonté.’ (5)
Quickly, Zoro ran out of the apartment, nearly blind with panic. He didn’t stop until he was blocks away from the building, and even then, he was pushing himself to go. People looked at him in curiosity, but it was as if they didn’t exist.
-
In his room, Sanji opened his eyes. They were heavy–his vision grey around the edges. He saw his ceiling, the darkness allowing him just enough to register that it was late at night. He heard people tromping around in the halls, the child crying for their mother.
He couldn’t move. He was lying next to the window with his pillow under his head and a blanket tossed over him. He knew Gin was behind this moment of comfort. He wasn’t sure how much time had passed, not knowing that it had been almost a full day since Gin had reacted violently. His head was pounding with a headache that made his stomach lurch. Just thinking of moving made him incredibly sick. He closed his eyes, too weary and too pained to see where Gin was. Or even to examine his injuries.
As he slowly became accustomed to the usual nighttime sounds, he licked his lips and fought to ignore the buzzing in his ears. The intense feeling of having his throat in an abnormal position was an uncomfortable one–though it was only bruised and swollen, making it hard to breathe. He had to stay in control and not panic in order to keep his airway working, but he didn’t think like this: instead, he thought if he just continued to lie still and motionless, Gin wouldn’t bother with him.
Lying there, Sanji listened to the normal sounds around his apartment. The boat horns, the traffic, his neighbors...but as he listened, he realized something piercing. The child crying for their mother had been crying the very same things every night he’d heard it.
‘L'eau ! S’il vous plaît, maman, l'eau ! J'ai soif ! Maman ! S’il vous plaît! J’ai soif! Maman!’ (6)
The coughing man...there were other voices around it. The murmur of a woman, her words indistinguishable, her tone consoling.
The colicky baby, the mother whispering harshly–her words inaudible, but her sharp hisses and tone menacing.
Sanji had to wonder why he hadn’t listened closely to these things before. He swallowed as best as he could and continued to lay there, listening to those noises and wondering what was going to happen next.
In a moment of weakness, he yearned for Zoro, feeling the ache deep within his bones, yearning for some comfort and clarity. Just thinking about the other made his head hurt–but at the same time, it was the drive that had him moving. He thrust the blanket away, feeling his stomach lurch. His head began to ring and pound with a violence that felt like a booted foot was repeatedly kicking at his brain. With a groan, he rolled away from the window, slowly and sluggishly crawling to his feet. Once standing, Sanji held his head with both hands, trying to focus on his task.
He took a step, feeling his leg shake with the effort, and the resounding force of shock to his brain. Everything hurt so much that he wanted to curl up back on the floor and just lay there for the rest of his life. But he kept seeing Zoro, and kept hearing the iron-worker’s taunts and barbs and was fueled with the need to continue on. Gin was no where nearby–and for that, Sanji was grateful.
He made it to his door, groaning again. He managed to open it, stepping out into the hall with a sense of relief and accomplishment. Through the light was entirely too bright for him to handle, he covered his eyes and took another step forward, wanting to make it to Zoro’s apartment. But before he could, he felt the now familiar presence of Gin as he breathed over the back of his neck. Sanji stilled, but he felt intense and overwhelming frustration flow through him before rough hands yanked him back into the apartment with no room for argument.
The door slammed shut, startling everybody on the floor awake and for the ghostly whispers to stop.
A/N2: Again, sorry if the translations don’t add up. I tried to get it as close and understandable if possible. (For all you French-fluent speakers, please don’t kick my ass if you see a screw-up >.<)
(1) My pet, you've disobeyed me once again , and disregarded my wishes. I am disappointed and angry with you.
(2) You’ll not speak to me in such a disrespectful manner again. I don’t like it when you refuse, or when you speak to me in such a shameless way. You’ll speak to me properly, and without any impudence. Is this in any way unclear?
(3) Such rebellion from somebody is who is utterly useless!
(4) I’ll teach you to disrespect me! I, your master and your savior! I was the one that plucked you from the ravages of your home! I sheltered and protected you, and here you rebel against me with your affections to another!
(5) It knows. It will kill me. I am only sorry for getting caught. But I don't regret taking him for mine. Always mine. He was my one kindness. It would have been an insult to my character to have not forcefully taken what treasure was presented to me.
(6) Water! Please, mommy, water! I'm thirsty! Mommy! Please! I’m thirsty! Mommy!
Warning: Horror, slash, AU
A/N: Dialogue taken off a translating site...so forgive me. Sometimes the translations aren’t accurate. . I apologize in advance. Oh yeah! And I know the dialogue isn't entirely appropriate for the 1930's...o.O Um, I don't think they used modern day slang of today, but...I just think it's neater that way. XD (counts Blade of the Immortal as inspiration for such things)
And, as always, thanks for the reviews!
The Pirate In The Doll:
Part Four
Zoro knew it was bad when he walked up to the construction site and found a large crowd of angry workers milling around, the area closed off. He looked up at the uncompleted skeleton of the high rise, shaking his head in disgust. Without venturing any further, he muttered an expletive and then turned and began to head back home. He knew that construction was slowing, and had even come to a stop around the city and throughout the country. With the economical crash, he was wondering when his luck would run out. Now he had to make serious efforts in locating some sort of a job before he found himself on the streets.
That was one thing that bothered him–if Sanji was in the same bind as him (as were thousands of others), why in the world did the blond spring for such a purchase? The doll was probably the man’s food supply money for the next few weeks. Zoro rolled his eyes and thought that Sanji was one of the bigger idiots that he’d ever known.
The day passed, and early evening found Zoro at home, unsuccessful with his job searching efforts. There were just too many men needing a job, and so little employers. Frustrated, he decided to sleep the rest of the hours left and maybe think a little more about what had happened the night before. It was hard to focus on one thing when there were so many other things happening.
But he didn’t get to–practically a moment after he’d laid his head down to sleep, Luffy and Ussop had barged into his apartment. The former was angry over the loss of his job, and the latter was weepy but already making plans to leave the city for something else in the country. While they argued amongst each other over the idiocy over that, Zoro realized he wasn’t going to get any sleep at all.
There was no way in hell he was going to tell them about what had happened the night before, but he really wasn’t looking forward (for once) to spending the night with a man he suddenly wasn’t certain of. Thinking of Sanji’s apartment, Zoro decided to put the other two to work.
-
Sanji found himself outside the curio shop on his way home from work. People were losing their jobs left and right. The restaurant was losing its customers; in this time of economical hardship, many were unable to spend. As a result, the workers weren’t being paid as much as they should be. At the same time, living expenses were still high. He still had rent to make, utilities to keep. It wasn’t much–the building he lived in provided enough for him to get by, but money was money. And money was rapidly disappearing, leaving behind severe debts. He knew with some heavy confidence that he would be out of a job soon.
He was regretting buying that doll–Gin, he remembered. But the day he’d seen it was the day when he’d felt that he absolutely needed it. Swallowing hard, he stared at the spot where he’d first seen Gin. He was trying to remember what it was that prompted him to buy the cursed thing.
He would have to watch his food supplies. With the way things were today, fresh vegetables, fruits and other sources were becoming more and more expensive. There were farms failing; crops dying. He would have to stick to what he was going to be able to keep for more than a few days. Which reminded him, he needed more ice for the icebox. He sighed low, and began the walk home.
By the time he found himself in front of his apartment, he was regretting yelling at Zoro; he knew for his own reasons that Zoro was behaving like an idiot, but Sanji felt that it was his own fault for snapping that way in a moment of weakness. He pulled his key out of his pocket and paused. There were noises coming from his apartment–moving thumps, shifting furniture, heavy footfalls.
Fear caused him to stiffen. He then turned and started to walk away, unsure over what he was going to do. He stopped at the top of the stairway, gritting his teeth. He wasn’t going to let this thing chase him away. It had a name–it had a past. ...sort of. Sanji stood there for a few moments, then lowered himself to sit at the top of the stairs. Reaching into his left breast pocket, he drew out the half smoked cigarette he’d been saving and a box of matchsticks. He lit it, savoring the taste and smell, holding the smoke in his lungs for as long as he was able. Then he exhaled as slowly and gently as possible, wanting to make this cigarette last. He closed his eyes, focused intensely on the hand-rolled fag before shifting slightly to allow a couple of men to walk past him.
He took another long inhale of his cigarette, opening his eyes to stare bleakly at the landing. Exhaling reluctantly, he carefully stubbed it out and then put it away. He stood and slowly made his way back to his own apartment, unsure of what he was going to do. He glanced over at Zoro’s door, then lifted his hands to look at his damaged fingernails. He was missing two–three were half broken, and there were still splinters in four fingernail beds. Sighing low, Sanji lowered his hands, then drew out his key once more. Surely the Depression was much more important than some deranged toy that–
His door was open. With apprehension, Sanji pushed it and walked in, stilling. Two sets of faces looked at him in surprise, various objects in their arms. Without hesitation, he kicked in the face of the man closest to him while the other one shrieked and ran in circles, looking for a way out. By the time the first flew over the kitchen counter, Sanji was running up to the other, drawing his left leg back for a kick that was going to send the other flying.
The paper divider, clumsily held together by yarn, was swept aside as Zoro popped up from behind it with a sleepy surprised expression. Sanji paused, a little outraged that while he was being robbed, Zoro was sleeping in his bed. He aimed to kick him as well when Zoro caught his foot with an easy block and sent him flying with a shove. Sanji caught himself from falling by kicking out a leg to brace himself against the wall, and used his arms to steady himself.
“Geez, calm down!” Zoro ordered, wincing when Luffy finally picked himself up from the kitchen floor. The younger man was very unsteady on his feet, clutching the sink tightly as he groaned. Ussop hadn’t gained consciousness yet. “You just beat down the guys that cleaned up your shitty place, idiot cook.”
Sanji straightened, giving the other two incredulous looks. Luffy collapsed back onto the floor with a loud moan. “What? They’re with you?” He then noticed that his apartment was very clean.
“Yeah, they’re with me!”
Sanji frowned, but he put on a haughty air. “Huh...well then...my bad.”
Seeing that was as close as an apology as he was going to get, Zoro sighed. He heaved Ussop to his feet, struggling with dead weight. “We lost our jobs, today. We had some time to dick around. Don’t go thanking me or anything.”
“Er...well...I’ll cook something,” Sanji muttered. But inwardly he winced. It was going to be a huge chunk out of his already small food supply. Still...looking around his cleaned apartment, seeing how well the two men (because it was apparent the green haired man was sleeping the entire time, the lazy ass) put things back together again, made him want to repay the favor.
“Their names are Luffy and Ussop, by the way,” Zoro said, nodding in the former’s direction. Both of them looked over when Luffy ducked suddenly, then straightened, holding up a very familiar object.
“This belong to you, too?” Luffy asked sluggishly, waving the doll in the air, blood dripping from his lip. He leaned over and spit a tooth into the sink.
Sanji’s visible eye widened, and he strode forward to snatch it out of his hand. “How did you–?!”
“I saw its head poking out of the hole. I thought it was a rat, but it just kept sitting there,” Luffy said with a grin, using his foot to show where he’d found the hole.
Both men leaned over to see a fist-sized hole underneath the sink, near the drain. Sanji wondered how he’d missed that; but then again, such things weren’t unusual in a building like this one, and he hadn’t even given it a second thought. To know that the doll was so close made him feel like an idiot.
Zoro dropped Ussop and joined him as they looked at the doll. Luffy was confused as he watched the two older men gape at a child’s toy. He squinted hard, absolutely befuddled as he took in the dirtied doll; its stringy hair was tied into a ponytail with a faded ribbon. The dress was in tatters. The feet were missing its shoes. Its face was scarred, but one could see the individual eyelashes, the painted lips.
“It looks...like a regular doll,” Zoro growled, snatching it from Sanji and turning it over in his hands as he examined it. Once more, when he lifted his fingers, soot appeared over the pads. Sanji snatched it back, shaking his head.
“Maybe this is a different doll–!”
“It’s not! It’s the same one you bought!”
“But it’s a girl–!”
“That guy said the doll took on the pirate’s form after time! What does this mean?! The doll’s back to normal, so does this mean that the guy’s no longer in there?! That just makes things even worse!”
“I know that, asshole! Why do you insist on telling me the obvious?!”
“Hey, fuck you! I was thinking out loud! It helps me!”
“I always knew you were a brain dead idiot, and this proves it!”
“Aw, go to hell, you blond dick on a stick.”
“...That’s new.”
Luffy was confused. He had no idea what they were talking about, and Ussop was finally regaining consciousness. He washed the blood from his face and hands, then walked over to Zoro and Sanji. With an expression of thought, he asked, “Is this the doll you were asking about yesterday, Zoro? That one that was making your friend freak out?”
Zoro made a face, then belatedly slapped a hand over his mouth. Sanji glared at Zoro, lowering the doll. “What. ‘Freak out’?”
“Don’t listen to him! He’s an idiot! He doesn’t know what he’s saying!”
“But Zoro–! West Main Curio!” Luffy protested as he shoved Zoro’s hand from his face. “We were there! We–!”
Sanji flung the doll onto the floor, growling. “Sticking your stupid nose into my stupid business, marimo! What the fuck?!”
“I just wanted to make sure that you were telling the truth!”
“...What’s ‘marimo’?” Luffy asked curiously, then watched the two men growl, facing each other menacingly. He grinned, popping up next to Zoro as Ussop slowly picked himself up from the floor. “Wow, you two must be really close friends. How come we never met before...uh...what’s your name?”
“Why wouldn’t I tell the truth?!” Sanji exclaimed over Luffy's questions. He snatched the doll from the floor then stomped toward the kitchen. He flung it into the sink, snarling and growling the entire way as he began to pull out various pots and pans.
“Look, the only reason why I was there was because–” Zoro started to say before he ducked a flying pot. Ussop wasn’t so fortunate, and Luffy winced as the curly-haired man hit the floor for the second time that night.
“Shut it, ass ape! I don’t want to hear anymore shit from you!”
“Oh, yeah, real appropriate choice of–!” Zoro then stopped, realizing that Luffy was still watching them closely, a cheery smile spreading his lips thin. Zoro scowled and crossed his arms heavily over his chest. “I can never win with you! Everything I do is wrong!”
“Shut it with the self-pity, marimo!” Sanji growled, brandishing a knife that made Luffy duck.
Luffy grimaced, then found his attention diverted from the men’s shouting. He went completely stiff, feeling his own skin pimple with goosebumps. Because as Sanji and Zoro hollered at each other, distracted, the doll in the sink had pulled itself up, the head turning to look in his direction. As it stayed in that peculiar position for a few moments, one arm lifted and slowly moved from side to side in a wave.
Luffy couldn’t swallow. It was both eery and fascinating at the same time. Everything within sight and sound faded until he was focused completely on the ghoulish doll that continued to peer out from the sink at him. He gave a little start when the doll disappeared from view, falling back into the sink with noticeable sound.
Later, after all the plates were cleaned, Luffy returned his attention to the doll. Sanji had pinned it to his own cabinet with the use of a butcher knife. The morbid sight was enough to make two of the four men nervous and anxious, and matters weren’t helped any with the other two emitting auras of fury and disgust.
All of them were sitting on the floor, listening to the sounds of life all around them through the thin walls. Luffy was only half-delighted in that Sanji prepared food that was amazingly memorable, but his attention was focused entirely on the doll. Ussop was jittery and nervous over the violence he’d received, and kept darting looks all around them, ready to run if Sanji threw another fit. Somehow, the three had been convinced by Luffy to discuss job options, so that they had a plan of action for tomorrow.
Luffy kept waiting for it to move again. He didn’t bring any attention to it by verbal command, thinking that perhaps he’d just imagined things.
It was nearly ten when Luffy and Ussop finally made their leave. Zoro had moved to follow them when Sanji caught his shirt and held him back, daring him to say something in front of the two that were already out of view. With a heaving sigh, Zoro stepped back into the apartment and shut the door.
“It’s too late for this shit, idiot cook–”
“Let’s compare notes, marimo.”
“... ‘Notes’? On...on what?”
“You know what.” Sanji retook his position on the floor, where the four of them had been sitting earlier. With a glance at the doll that was still pinned to the cabinet door, he waited for Zoro to settle across from him. He took out his cigarette and lit it, taking the same measures as previous. By the time he’d savored two deep inhalations and exhalations, he stubbed out the cigarette and set both matches and cig aside.
“I shouldn’t have bought it,” he then confessed, a little grudgingly. “I’m going to be tight for...hopefully a week. I won’t be able to cook for you.”
“Er...okay?”
“Other than that, you heard the same story I did, right?”
Zoro grunted. He wanted nothing more than to go to sleep after such a hectic night, but it looked as if Sanji wasn’t going to let him go so easily. And, besides, Zoro was also aware that Sanji had apologized to him once more–he was forgiven, and it made Zoro feel a little better.
“Yeah. But,” he flicked his eyes over at the doll, “now I feel like I have to believe it.”
Sanji gave him a grave look. He rose, taking a few moments to turn off the repaired lamp. Rustling around, he sat back down with a couple of candles, lighting them carefully before settling back down. “I wish I knew what to do. I don’t think destroying the doll will make it go away.”
“Why is it so focused on you, anyway?”
“How the fuck should I know? Well, I bought the thing. Stupidest decision I ever made...”
“Yeah,” Zoro said with a snort. He glanced around apprehensively. “How do you know when it’s around?”
“I don’t know. Look. I–I’ll keep an eye out. Job wise,” Sanji said slowly, frowning slightly. “You have a reserve, right? A, I don’t know, secret stash of sort?”
“No,” Zoro said, relaxing backward to fold his hands behind his head. “Can’t trust people around here.”
“You don’t have any reserve funds?! Do you know how stupid that is?!”
“Geez. I made enough to pay my rent, buy me food and booze...what else did I need?”
Sanji palmed his forehead.
Zoro sat up, elbow on a knee.
Sanji stared at him for a few moments, and Zoro had to wonder if he’d said the wrong thing. Then panicked because he had to wonder if Sanji was getting clingy on him. At the same time...he felt that very distinct possibility in that he was gleeful for getting something out of the blond when it came to feelings for him.
He cleared his throat loudly. “Er...anyway...I’m not really worried about things too much.”
“You wouldn’t,” Sanji muttered, threading his fingers together. For a few minutes, the pair sat in silence, lost in their own thoughts.
A sharp piercing creak caused them both to jolt. When they looked up, every drawer and cabinet door was open. The sink was running at a trickle.
Zoro felt that feeling of being eyed–his skin rippled with unease. Thinking of last night, seeing the man that mimicked his every move, that pushed him, that made picking up a six foot man seem like it was nothing, Zoro rose from his sitting position and brushed off his pants.
“Gin!” he boomed, startling himself and Sanji as the other rose, handling the candles carefully. “Coward! We aren’t the kid you last fucked over. What the hell do you want?! Why can’t you just show up to the both of us like a fucking man, instead of playing stupid little parlor tricks?”
Silence reigned, and after a few moments, Zoro felt foolish. He felt his skin heat with embarrassment for saying something out loud, when it wasn’t even guaranteed he’d be given an answer. He reached up to scratch at the back of his head when the candles in Sanji’s hands went out.
“Turn those back on!” Zoro screeched, rather unmanly like.
“I didn’t do it!” Sanji screeched back.
They both froze, unconsciously easing close together until they bumped elbows. Then they pushed at the other to give themselves space, both embarrassed by the gesture.
It began slowly–a low whisper of a chuckle that grew in volume. It was almost as if it were coming from all around them. Skin rippled with cold and unease, and hair rose straight up.
‘Man? No...not coward...man?’
“Fuck this,” Zoro muttered, marching toward the door.
“Mari–! Coward!” Sanji hissed after him, but he was following just as quickly. He paused, then hurried to the cabinet that had the doll pined to it. Pulling it into his grasp, he then left the apartment after Zoro, cradling the doll to his chest. “Running away from that son of a bitch isn’t going to solve anything!”
“Then you go back in there and tell him that!” Zoro exclaimed. “I had enough of this Haitian voodoo bullshit! What the fuck? I didn’t ask for this! You bought the doll, you do something about it! Besides, it’s all fixated on you!”
“How was I supposed to know that the doll was going to–!”
“That should teach you to not spend so frugally in the future!”
Sanji threw his hands up in exasperation. “Fine. You green-haired pussy. I’ve known cold shrimp that was more braver than you.”
Zoro scoffed. “Insult me all you want, dartboard face. You and your curly eyebrow can deal with that shit on your own. I didn’t buy the thing, so therefore, I don’t have any responsibility for it or its actions.”
“...Moron.” But Sanji stiffened his shoulders and walked back to his apartment. Without a word, he let himself in and closed the door behind him.
Zoro watched him go, hesitating. But the moment the door closed behind Sanji, he grimaced. With a growl, he opened the door to his home and walked inside, making sure to slam the door to let everyone know of his inner turmoil.
-
Meanwhile, Sanji clutched the doll close to him, keeping his back to the door. The darkness and coldness of his apartment was chilling–he swallowed tightly, feeling the sensation of being watched very closely. The longer he stood there, the more apparent were the breathing noises.
Before he could say anything, a shape took form near the furthest corner of his apartment. He was startled to actually see it, watching a shoulder flex as a bushy head bobbed with some erratic movement. Sanji was frozen solid–he wasn’t actually sure if he wanted to confront the thing or run away. His lungs were tight as the form shifted away from the corner, disappearing completely. The breathing noises grew louder next to him, and he repressed the urge to flail or run for cover. Every one of his hairs on that side rose straight up, skin rippling with icy cold.
Shadows shifted alongside him, and suddenly the doll was slapped right out of his hands. This time Sanji emitted a girlish shriek, jerking backward only to hit the wall. The doll rattled as it skidded across the floor, coming into plain view of the moonlight that filtered in through the window. Sanji stared around himself, pressing himself into the corner to at least feel some sort of stability. His skin broke out into a clammy sweat. The floorboards creaked suddenly, the sound of heavy boots moving over the area making his ears ring. For some reason, his attention drew down to the doll that was bathed in the moonlight. He saw the shadow on the floor first–almost as if a body had just planted itself in front of the window, bushy head bent in contemplation.
Sanji’s mouth was dry, his head ringing as the footsteps stopped abruptly with the shift. When his eyes darted to the window, there was nothing there. But within the shadowed reflection of the window, he clearly saw the outline of the man standing over the doll. The contrasts were frightening.
His breath caught in his throat as shadow moved. The doll was nudged once before being lifted. Somewhere, eerily, Sanji heard the faint murmurs of a child crying for its mother. At first he thought it was coming from the doll–it made his stomach curl and pitch. As the doll paused in mid-air, held aloft by a tall man holding it at chest level, Sanji felt his teeth chatter. The silence, save for the abnormal cries that seemed to come from everywhere at once, was absolutely heavy. It felt as if no one else existed in the world, save for the doll that was held by invisible hands.
‘Bizette...’ came the otherworldly murmur. Before Sanji could register the name, the doll was flung fiercely at him. The child began screaming–frantic, panicked screams that made his blood run cold. The doll hit him and fell to the floor, the child’s cries absolutely blood curdling. Sanji’s hands flew to his ears, trying to block out the noises even as he registered the telltale footsteps of boots over his floor. The vibrations under his worn shoes told him that the malicious ghost was coming towards him.
Just as he’d felt heavy breath against his hair, his eyes squeezing shut in automatic reaction, the world fell silent. Still. It took Sanji a few moments for this to register, his hands shaking as he pulled them from his head. He could smell the borscht cooking next door, the telltale thumps of movement in the hall. Someone’s laughter rang out, and a baby cried over screaming parents’ raised voices.
Trembling violently, Sanji fell into a crouch. His apartment felt incredibly empty at that moment–the temperature had returned to normal. His hair was incredibly staticky, though, and he registered this as he touched his head.
-
‘...Mon chouchou, vous m'avez désobéi de nouveau, et avez négligé mes souhaits. Je suis déçu et fâché avec toi.’ (1)
Sanji felt himself quiver upon hearing those whispered words near his ear. He wasn’t sure how he’d fallen asleep, but the moment he realized that he did, he felt violated. He was in his bed, he realized. On his back, hands folded on his stomach. He could smell the rotten breath of a man that had bad hygiene, and his stomach twisted. But he couldn’t move. He heard the words whispered so close to his ear, skin tingling with electricity, but he couldn’t see him. It.
It was so dark in his room–he couldn’t see anything. It was as if the window had been covered by thick, heavy material. The world was shuttered out, and he truly felt alone, if not for this menacing and malicious presence beside him that made his very bones quiver.
‘Vous ne me parlerez pas d'une façon si irrespectueuse encore. Je n'aime pas quand vous refusez, ou quand vous parlez de nouveau B moi d'une façon si effrontée. Vous parlerez me correctement, et sans impudence. Est-ce que c'est de quelque façon peu clair?’ (2)
Sanji’s breath coming in shaky pants from slightly open lips. He had no idea what was being said, but the very chill in hearing something that was spoken so menacingly made him realize that it wasn’t a good thing. Despite the fact that he had cookbooks and recipe books in French, he personally didn’t know enough to be fluent with the language. Fear made it even harder to attempt to translate.
“I–I don’t know what you’re saying. I don’t fucking speak–!”
He felt icy cold fingers on his forehead, and even as he felt that survival instinct of moving quickly, his entire body was frozen solid. Nothing would obey. Nothing would lift to his command, and his mind raced with panicked fear and horror as he felt each individual digit sweep over the clamminess of his skin, brushing his hair aside. His breath came in short spasms. He could smell the sulphur and rot that came from this vile thing.
“...why?” he heard himself whisper, unable to get his voice louder than that. “What did I do...?”
The hand on his forehead flinched, then lifted to grab a handful of his hair, yanking it hard and making him give a short cry of pain and shock. ‘Une telle rébellion de quelqu'un tellement tout B fait inutile!’ (3)
“...W-what?”
‘Je vous enseignerai B me traiter sans respect! Je, votre maître, votre sauveur! J'étais celui qui vous a plumé des ravages de votre maison! Je vous ai abrité et ai protégé, et ici vous vous rebellez contre moi avec vos affections B l'autre!’ (4)
“I don’t know what you’re saying! Shitty asshole, just leave me alone!” Sanji then cried, tensing at the utterly furious aura that was now emitting from the man–the demon. He felt utterly helpless and vulnerable as the man continued to rant and rave in a language he couldn’t even try to translate.
Suddenly he choked, feeling the strength in icy hands that burned around his throat. Reflexively he reached up, curling his own fingers around the ones that felt like steel. He couldn’t draw in breath, his lungs automatically squeezing. He kicked and flailed, hitting steady and iron-hardened arms. He could feel his face heating and pulsing with pressure, his mouth opening wide, his throat trying to swallow air that wasn’t coming.
‘I...am...not...dead,’ Gin whispered in broken English, and Sanji could hear his teeth clicking with every word. ‘You hide behind your lover’s back! The sea takes many lives, but it hadn’t taken mine! It took me months to come back home!’
Sanji absorbed the words. Some of it was faintly explanatory–but it wasn’t the time to focus and think about them. He choked, kicking the bed, struggling to be released. His fingers clawed upward, searching for anything vulnerable. But they only swatted through air, scraped against the wall.
When he was finally released, he choked and gagged, his throat feeling as if it had been crushed. Flopping off the bed, he struggled to breathe, hearing heavy boots tromping around him, a hunter circling his prey. Even as wild fear made his limbs stiffen, his gut clenching with apprehension and mortal fear for his soul, Sanji couldn’t get the strength to get up and move.
When he opened his eyes, he was more than startled to see that his apartment was gone. Instead he was looking at a hardwood floor, stained by colors he didn’t want to guess the origins of. He could smell the sea–so salty and wet. Gulls cried, and waves battered the beach. He remembered the dream of which he hadn’t any particular details of. But almost as soon as he registered this, thoughts of unbidden memory came to him.
And suddenly Sanji felt crazed, insane. Because while he knew his true self was huddled on the floor of a derelict apartment in a city that struggled with the effects of the Depression, he was also in clear apprehension that the sugar cane plantation in Haiti was a French owned property that he happened to be an employee of. And this mad man, this pirate he’d only seen once while he was serving his employers and their guests, had taken it upon himself to claim him in his mind only.
He registered his fear, disbelief and utter cluelessness as the maddened pirate circled around him, breathing heavily in agitation. The morning had yet to receive the sun’s rays–and yet slaves were already up and moving outside the servants’ quarters. Sanji could hear them–but he knew they were keeping a wide berth from his open window, and he could see their questioning eyes and hear their fear-filled whispers. It was truly frustrating that they wouldn’t come to his aid simply because he was higher-ranked and a different color than they were.
Utter fear paralyzed his bones–but as he lifted his eyes, they alighted on the doll that lay, crisp and neat, on the floor. Immediately, the image of the plantation owner’s youngest daughter came to mind. Their Bizette...and Sanji was confused...he had to wonder why the doll was lying there in his own quarters.
He heard the crashing sound of the waves breaking along the shoreline, and just as he closed his eyes to blink, he felt the crushing weight of a boot upon his back, a sharp curse ringing through the air. When Sanji opened them, he was back in the darkness, searching for anything to throw or use against the malevolent ghost that made the air quiver with his anger and fury.
“I don't even know who you are!” he whispered hoarsely, unable to speak louder than that. “I don't even know why–!”
‘You were supposed to wait!’
He hit the wall, twisted, and kicked. Relief like he’d never felt hit him when his heel connected with something human. The moment his heel connected, he sent his other leg in the very same spot, and he heard the loud crash of a large human body slamming into the kitchen cabinets. Gin’s scream of outrage and fury was high pitched and ear ringing–unearthly. But it was enough for Sanji to climb to his feet and run like mad for the door. The locks jittered as his hands fumbled with them, and he was quite sure Gin was getting up from the floor, heaving animalistic growls that made Sanji’s skin ripple.
Once Sanji realized that his door wasn’t locked, he locked them out of sheer panic. Then as he fumbled to unlock them, Gin was up and over the counter, eyes glowing blood red and heavy shadow obscuring his form. Before he could do anything, Gin was on him, icy hands curling over his head and shoulders. There was a tremendous bang!, and then intense darkness and silence.
-
Zoro stood outside of Sanji’s door the next morning. He had heard nothing last night–but then again with how tired he was, he’d pretty much slept until twenty minutes ago. He felt unsure and a little gruff with guilt in that he’d let Sanji walk away from him. By now, Zoro was pretty much convinced that the tale of the doll was true. There just wasn’t any other explanations that there could be when it came to the ghost. There were just too many strange things that weren’t easily written off as day-to-day things.
But he felt foolish to admit this. He’d never heard of anything stranger than this situation, and it wasn’t easy to accept that such things existed. And it certainly didn’t help matters that his feelings for the other man were too much to ignore. This stabbed him in the gut.
“Shit,” he muttered, wiping his nose and then staring at the door that stood between himself and Sanji. And the ghost. He frowned, lips drawing tight until he knocked on the door.
He didn’t think Sanji had gone to work, yet. He didn’t smell the telltale scent of his hand-rolled cigarette, and Zoro knew Sanji had to have a few puffs before leaving.
He knocked again when there wasn’t an answer, then turned to leave, figuring Sanji had left early. But when there came two staccato knocks on the other side of the door, Zoro froze. He stared at the wood, wondering if he’d heard what he had.
Without thinking, he lifted a hand and knocked again. There was an answering knock that made him jump back, then scowl.
“Sanji! Open up!” he demanded. “Stop fucking around!”
For a few moments, he waited. Listening for the telltale sound of the locks being removed, or for weight to shift upon the floor. Instead, he found himself leaping back when a heavy thump against the other side of the door rang out, the wood vibrating with almost angry violence.
Hairs standing on end, Zoro flattened himself against the wall. Then hurried off, eager to get out of the area.
-
That night, Zoro sipped at his pint. All around him were miserable men that were fretting over the loss of their jobs, or in danger of losing the one they had. There was a radio next to him that relayed the day’s current events overseas. Finishing off his pint, he left behind a few coins for the bartender and walked off. He managed to find the curio shop, but there was a sign in the window that told him it was closed for good. With a scowl, Zoro peered inside, looking for any sign of the owner and seeing nobody.
Frowning, he turned and started making his way home, careful to keep his eyes on the signs and landmarks. He was infamous for getting lost all the time. But tonight was different–he knew that he was deliberately taking his time, hoping he’d run into the blond cook on his way home from work. When he reached the apartment building, he was a little disappointed that he hadn’t. It meant he would have to go back home to ghosts and coughing men and crying babies. He kept hoping Sanji was waiting for him as he walked up to their shared floor, but there wasn’t any sign.
In fact, the entire floor was silent.
Zoro tried not to be too spooked–even if the walls were thin, that one could hear everything, he had to assume that it was a great coincidence that nobody was home yet. His footsteps rang out, measured and heavy. He winced with each step and tried to walk more lightly. As he paused in front of his door and took out a key, Zoro strained to listen for any signs of life coming from Sanji’s apartment.
Then he stilled. He heard the familiar sounds of a radio playing, Billie Holiday belting out a cheery tune. It was coming from the blond’s apartment. With a frown, unable to remember if Ussop had been able to put the radio back together, Zoro walked over. He was a little leery of knocking on the door–this morning had been rather surprising.
So he set his ear close against the wood and listened. All he could hear was Billie Holiday. He exhaled slowly, then reached up to place his hand on the knob. He turned it, hoping against hope that it wasn’t locked. When he realized that it wasn’t, he stilled. But as he did, pain flared up through his very skin, scorching his palm and fingers and forcing him to cry out.
He jumped away from the door, hissing as he lifted his hand to observe burnt skin. The stench was hideous, and the pain was consuming. But he blew against it, waving it in the air as he ventured back toward the door. As he stilled once more, he realized Billie Holiday was being muted–her voice slowly dwindling until there was nothing but silence. His skin rippled with a heavy chill, and he resisted the urge to rub his arms.
Listening, Zoro became quite aware that there still wasn’t any sounds on this floor. No movement, no voices, no telltale creaks and moans of bodies moving over wood. But he strove to ignore that, focusing intently on Sanji’s apartment.
Slowly he grew aware of the telltale rise and fall of heavy breath. The very same he’d heard in his own apartment two nights back. With a frown, Zoro tilted away from the door. He looked down at the bottom of it, toward the open slot. There wasn’t any light coming from it, but he could clearly see the shadowy set of boots on the other side of the door. He didn’t recognize those boots. While curious to what this thing looked like, he really didn’t feel it in him to see at that moment.
Instead, Zoro slowly walked away.
-
The silence was unsettling. Zoro didn’t understand why it was so quiet. Usually he would be able to hear his neighbors moving all around him. The telltale sounds of their feet upon cheap tile and wood; the crashes children make when playing; the voices; the scents and sounds of cooking...everything was gone. And it was really bothering him.
Pacing in his own apartment, Zoro kept his ears strained to hear any sound of Sanji, but there was nothing to tell him that Sanji was even home. Save for the radio that continuously played Billie Holiday. It was the same song over and over again–but he knew for a fact that Sanji wasn’t a fan of Billie Holiday; he was more in the twanging guitars of country singers. He grit his teeth, flexing his arms as he paced.
Why wasn’t there any sounds?!
It was driving him crazy. He should have been able to at least hear something coming from the floor above and beneath his, and from his neighbors around him. But there was absolutely nothing.
The city was still alive outside–the sounds of boat horns, heavy foot traffic, loud rumbling vehicles...but it was as if the very apartment building was an entire different world apart from the city.
Zoro finally resolved to brave whatever it was Gin was doing, and marched from his apartment to Sanji’s. Without any warning, Zoro rammed his shoulder into the door, the cheap wood cracking under force and swinging wildly to hit the wall with a loud, reverberating bang. Zoro expected an attack, a barrage of sharp, thrown things. But as he relaxed, he saw nothing.
Only Sanji standing silently by the window, gazing downward.
“HEY!” Zoro barked, feeling relief flood through him at the sight of the other. The room smelled musty...coated with iron. It made him wince, pressing a forearm against his nose as he struggled to keep his eyes from stinging and from his alarm to overcrowd the rest of his senses. “Hey, what the hell? Why are you...playing...games...?”
He trailed off because Sanji hadn’t acknowledged him. Nor did he flinch or move from his position by the door. Zoro’s brow furrowed, and he grit his teeth. Glancing around, he saw that everything was in its place. Yet, the kitchen cabinets were wide open. The drawers hanging out of their alignments. The bed was neatly made and there were cigarette wrappers and a tobacco pouch on the counter. The air was extremely chilly, and wood popped and moaned underfoot.
Zoro frowned. There was something about the situation, about the way Sanji stood that made him ultra-cautious. He heard the door swing shut, but that was automatic–it wasn’t as if there was anything back there. He stepped forward, reaching out to grab at the blond’s shoulder when he hesitated.
He didn’t see Sanji’s reflection in the window.
Zoro took a step back, feeling every hair stand on end. He turned to leave when he realized that the door was splattered with blood. There were splashes on the floor and the wall. The floor was covered in it near the bed area. As he continued to stare, he realized that the bed was heavy, foul with blood. The doll was crushed, left in tatters at the foot of the bed. There was a knife lying on the floor, coated with congealed liquids. There was also a weapon sitting nearby–the round ball was coated with bits of matter and congealed blood, the baton dried with similar substances.
When Zoro shifted, he saw that he’d left blood imprints of his boot treads with every step. With a sound of distress, Zoro whipped around to face Sanji for answers when he realized that the blond wasn’t there.
His blood ran cold.
‘Il sait,’ came the whisper, and it was from everywhere at once. In his mind, he could hear the man speaking to him, as one would in a confessional booth. ‘Il me tuera… Je suis seulement désolé pour se faire attraper. Mais je ne regrette pas de le prendre pour le mien. Toujours mine. Il était mon une bonté.’ (5)
Quickly, Zoro ran out of the apartment, nearly blind with panic. He didn’t stop until he was blocks away from the building, and even then, he was pushing himself to go. People looked at him in curiosity, but it was as if they didn’t exist.
-
In his room, Sanji opened his eyes. They were heavy–his vision grey around the edges. He saw his ceiling, the darkness allowing him just enough to register that it was late at night. He heard people tromping around in the halls, the child crying for their mother.
He couldn’t move. He was lying next to the window with his pillow under his head and a blanket tossed over him. He knew Gin was behind this moment of comfort. He wasn’t sure how much time had passed, not knowing that it had been almost a full day since Gin had reacted violently. His head was pounding with a headache that made his stomach lurch. Just thinking of moving made him incredibly sick. He closed his eyes, too weary and too pained to see where Gin was. Or even to examine his injuries.
As he slowly became accustomed to the usual nighttime sounds, he licked his lips and fought to ignore the buzzing in his ears. The intense feeling of having his throat in an abnormal position was an uncomfortable one–though it was only bruised and swollen, making it hard to breathe. He had to stay in control and not panic in order to keep his airway working, but he didn’t think like this: instead, he thought if he just continued to lie still and motionless, Gin wouldn’t bother with him.
Lying there, Sanji listened to the normal sounds around his apartment. The boat horns, the traffic, his neighbors...but as he listened, he realized something piercing. The child crying for their mother had been crying the very same things every night he’d heard it.
‘L'eau ! S’il vous plaît, maman, l'eau ! J'ai soif ! Maman ! S’il vous plaît! J’ai soif! Maman!’ (6)
The coughing man...there were other voices around it. The murmur of a woman, her words indistinguishable, her tone consoling.
The colicky baby, the mother whispering harshly–her words inaudible, but her sharp hisses and tone menacing.
Sanji had to wonder why he hadn’t listened closely to these things before. He swallowed as best as he could and continued to lay there, listening to those noises and wondering what was going to happen next.
In a moment of weakness, he yearned for Zoro, feeling the ache deep within his bones, yearning for some comfort and clarity. Just thinking about the other made his head hurt–but at the same time, it was the drive that had him moving. He thrust the blanket away, feeling his stomach lurch. His head began to ring and pound with a violence that felt like a booted foot was repeatedly kicking at his brain. With a groan, he rolled away from the window, slowly and sluggishly crawling to his feet. Once standing, Sanji held his head with both hands, trying to focus on his task.
He took a step, feeling his leg shake with the effort, and the resounding force of shock to his brain. Everything hurt so much that he wanted to curl up back on the floor and just lay there for the rest of his life. But he kept seeing Zoro, and kept hearing the iron-worker’s taunts and barbs and was fueled with the need to continue on. Gin was no where nearby–and for that, Sanji was grateful.
He made it to his door, groaning again. He managed to open it, stepping out into the hall with a sense of relief and accomplishment. Through the light was entirely too bright for him to handle, he covered his eyes and took another step forward, wanting to make it to Zoro’s apartment. But before he could, he felt the now familiar presence of Gin as he breathed over the back of his neck. Sanji stilled, but he felt intense and overwhelming frustration flow through him before rough hands yanked him back into the apartment with no room for argument.
The door slammed shut, startling everybody on the floor awake and for the ghostly whispers to stop.
A/N2: Again, sorry if the translations don’t add up. I tried to get it as close and understandable if possible. (For all you French-fluent speakers, please don’t kick my ass if you see a screw-up >.<)
(1) My pet, you've disobeyed me once again , and disregarded my wishes. I am disappointed and angry with you.
(2) You’ll not speak to me in such a disrespectful manner again. I don’t like it when you refuse, or when you speak to me in such a shameless way. You’ll speak to me properly, and without any impudence. Is this in any way unclear?
(3) Such rebellion from somebody is who is utterly useless!
(4) I’ll teach you to disrespect me! I, your master and your savior! I was the one that plucked you from the ravages of your home! I sheltered and protected you, and here you rebel against me with your affections to another!
(5) It knows. It will kill me. I am only sorry for getting caught. But I don't regret taking him for mine. Always mine. He was my one kindness. It would have been an insult to my character to have not forcefully taken what treasure was presented to me.
(6) Water! Please, mommy, water! I'm thirsty! Mommy! Please! I’m thirsty! Mommy!