The cellar his father contained him in was like an endless black void. The darkness resembling an all too heavy blanket that took pride in suffocating the lithe frame of the boy inside. Would it consume him whole? Or would it taunt him until his body decided it had enough.
Why was his father so cruel to him?
What made him different from his siblings?
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The child huddled into the corner couldn't remember the last time he had felt this starved. His brothers would always throw scraps at him and while it was meant to taunt him he was always grateful for the food. Even if it was a small amount. But he hadn't seen his brothers in five days and now that he thinks about it, he hasn't seen much of anyone for the past five days.
They left him.
So he kept his eyes on the door in vain hope that this was just some awful prank they decided to pull on him, but that was always just wishful thinking, they had spoken multiple times in front of him to just up and leave. They never included him in the plans. But as kids do, they hope, and right now it's the only thing that boy can do.
Pathetic.
He can feel his eyes slowly betraying him, but he can't sleep. Not yet. If he does they'll forget to take him with them. They would leave him in this cage to perish. So Vinsmoke Sanji bites down hard on his tongue and lets the mix of pain and iron keep him awake.
Just a little longer.
He could hold on for just a little while longer.
Sanji isn't stupid. He knows they've already left without looking back. He was alone in the same cage his father said would befit a screw up like him. Alone, cold, and scared. No one would come to get him. But alas he is just a child, and as a children do, they hope. He hopes that someone will walk through that door and save him. He doesn't want to die like this.
He doesn't want die at the hands of the person who was supposed to love him.
He doesn't exactly know what he wants. But if living under the sun was a want then it was exactly what he wanted in that moment. He wanted to thrive, to live, to be loved by people that would accept him. So sanji counts down the minutes it'll take for him to finally be put out of his misery.
One.
All Sanji can focus on is his stomach. Something in him is fraying, a tight knot, a familiar knot he knows all too well, one that comes undone under the glue that tries to hold him all together.
He finds his mind has finally registered the blooming pain in his throat, a concentrated pain that could only be described as iron walls closing in on his esophagus.
His vision wavers as he swears he feels a loud ringing noise in his ears as much as he hears it. The ringing was only getting louder every time be tried to get rid of it.
His body always did this, so, why was he protecting a body that did nothing for him?
Two.
It was never this silent in the palace, there was always something going on around him. Whether it was his brothers tormenting him, his sister yelling at him to fight back, or the workers showering him with pity.
Their voices were always too loud.
He knows they couldn't help it. That they weren't all that loud, but to Sanji, it was a loud staticky sound against his ears. It rattled his head to its very core, no matter how hard he tried to get rid of it. It stopped him from concentrating on traing, to forget things he was supposed to remember, and had been another reason his father chose to leave him behind. But it wasn't their faults. It never was and it never would be.
Three.
Time was moving unbearably slow...or maybe that was just him.
Sanji can't feel his legs and briefly wonders if thats a bad thing. He remembers his mother briefly, she had a soft voice, and when Sanji would ask why he felt at ease around her and not his siblings she would bop him on the head tell him to stop spewing nonsense. But she would always tell him small stories about her childhood, or the adventures she had woth his father when they were younger. She never told him anything bad about his father, so why was his father so bad to him? It didn't matter. It wasn't like he'd ever be able to hear those stories again.
He missed her.
There were times where he tried to piece together moments they had together, but parts of her face would always be blurred, it started off small at first. Small details like her dimples would disappear from her face the more he was without her. It got a point where nothing was visible on her face except for eyes.
Four.
Sanji wonders what he did to deserve this. Where did he go wrong? All his life, he's done what he was supposed to do. He did his chores, he never spoke back, he tried his hardest while training. . So why was he in this position in his life? Why couldn't something just go right. Was it because he didn't do enough? Did his father not see the same worth he saw in his siblings? He was worthy. He knew hes was. So why wouldn't his father just let him prove it to him?
Five.
Now Sanji is hearing things. It must be the fear finally getting under his skin. Because he swears, he knows, he can hear the crunching of boots coming towards him. He wants to believe it's another person, wants to believe someone has finally come to get him, but hes sure it's just his imagination tricking him again.
But the voices are there and Sanji knows that means someone or...something has come to get him.
Maybe he'll be reunited with his mom.
But why would someone like him deserve to be back with his mother? Hes never done anything to deserve the love he gave her. Why didn't she treat him horribly like his father did? Did she see the worth his father didn't?
Six.
Sanji flinches. He doesn't dare hope any of those sounds are real. Their coming to get him. He wants to believe someone is coming, a human, coming to take pity on him, carry him away. Shelter him. Make him feel whole again. He wants to be happy again.
Even if he doesn't deserve it.
Seven.
Sanji can't hold his eyes open anymore. It feels as if they're falling in on each other. But what was the point in staying awake? He had nothing left. The only one there for him was his mother. She was gone. There was no one there for him. Would anyone even want him? No. Why would they want him? He's useless.
He takes the time to wonder how long it would take for someone to find his body. A day? A few days? Weeks? Months? Years? No. No one would find his body. His father would make sure of it.
Eight.
His mind fades off back to his mother, the same words she would tell him everyday, over n' over n' over again.
"When you were born, my world changed for the better."
He wants to scream, to run out of his hiding spot and grab something, anything, and break out of these confinements. He wants to kill whatevers out there to prove that hes alive, but his body won't move. He wants an outlet, a singular point to focus all his thoughts on instead of all the paths his mind has carved out for him. All the paths carved out that end in failure.
Whether thats by slamming his fist against his head until the ringing in his ears go away or something else entirely...Tomioka isn't sure. He finds his mind wandering aimlessly throughout all the memories hes had, all the things he wishes to relive again.
Nine.
His head sways with each thought he takes in. The cell opening seems so far away, yet so close.
It hurts.
Everything hurts.
He feels sick.
Sanji's entire body is vibrating. His eyes are scrunched shut to block out the invading light seeping in through the door. His ears continue to throb, even as he continuously slams his fist against them.
It's never enough.
His stomach is like an endless hit of raging waved being carried by a storm, wave after wave, tearing his insides apart. He hates this.
He hates it all.
He hates everyone.
He hates everything.
He wants to pull his ears off, just to have some semblance of peace from the constant pain searing through his body.
Ten.
It's like he's been punched straight through his chest. Sharp, stabbing, horrifically accurate pain strikes him between the ribs. The swelling in his chest is never ending. Like a well that never ends, his body fills with lost and fills and fills and fills but he's never full. The edges of his grief never cresting over his edges makes him feel sick and he's not sure if he can no longer cry or he can't find it in himself to do so. Saliva pools into the corners of his mouth, alerting him of the creeping want to vomit.
"When you were born, my world changed for the better."
Eleven.
Resigned to his fate, Sanji forces his lungs to expand as wide as they can, savoring his last breath. He lets his arms drop by his side, his eyes focusing on the cell door in front of him. Hopefully he'll be reunited with his mother.
At that same moment the door flings wide open, hinges buckling, he can feel a big blanket of white consuming him. It hurts, he wants the light to leave. But it doesn't, it stays. He lefts out a soft whine, he wants it to be dark again. It all hurts.
His mind blanks for a second.
The light?
Does that mean his father has come back for him? Has his father finally realized that he can be useful? He doesn't believe it, but who else would it be? No one else would open the cell door.
Sanji feels a small smile tug at his lips, this time, tears threaten to fall down his face.
He sees a shape in the light moving closer to him, slowly, creeping, he desperately wants to see the persona face to make sure its his father but his eyes have betrayed him once more.
So Sanji lets his eyes droop close, he lets his body slump forward. And he lets go, he finally lets himself go free.
He'll wake up somewhere warm. Somewhere safe. Somewhere he's loved. Somewhere he can feel free.
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