Sanji did not leave.
He stood on that strange shore long after the wind had shifted and the sun had climbed higher, staring at the island like it might start laughing at him.
"Stay," the man had said.
Train. Break. Rebuild.
Sanji clenched his teeth.
He had never run from a fight. Never begged for help. Never admitted he was behind.
But Sabaody had torn something open inside him.
He walked.
Not toward the ships.Not toward the towns.
Toward the hills.
His legs felt heavy. Not with injury.
With doubt.
Every step echoed with the same memory:Light.Blood.Luffy's body crashing into the ground.
"…Damn it…"
His vision blurred again.
He hated it.
He hated weakness.
He hated that no matter how many times he told himself to stand straight, his shoulders kept shaking.
Finally, he stopped.
There was no one around.
No audience.
No crew.
No reason to pretend.
His knees hit the grass.
Then his fists.
Then his forehead.
"I wasn't strong enough."
The words came out broken.
"I wasn't fast enough. I wasn't anything."
He slammed his fist into the ground.
Again.
Again.
Again.
"I couldn't protect him. I couldn't protect any of them!"
His voice cracked into something ugly.
"What kind of cook can't protect his captain?! What kind of man just—just gets erased?!"
He screamed.
No style.No pride.No dignity.
Just pain.
When his throat burned and his hands were bleeding, he finally stopped.
He stayed there, breathing like he'd been stabbed.
"…Zeff," he whispered. "I'm not enough."
A slow clap echoed behind him.
"How refreshing!"
Sanji's head snapped up.
----------------------------------------------------------
Standing a short distance away was the same flamboyant figure from the beach — but now, in full view, his presence was… different.
Makeup. Cape. Crown-like hair. But beneath the ridiculousness was something sharp. Something heavy.
Power.
"So this is the great Black-Leg," the man said. "Crying into the grass like a tragic heroine."
Sanji scowled and stood up.
"Tch. If you're here to mock me, get lost."
The man smiled wider.
"Oh, I am mocking you. But I am also judging you."
He stepped closer.
["Emporio Ivankov. Queen of the Kamabakka Kingdom. Revolutionary Army commander."]
Sanji froze.
"…What?"
Ivankov's eyes narrowed slightly.
"You are weak."
The words were casual.
Precise.
Cruel.
Sanji's jaw tightened.
"You think I don't know that?"
"No," Ivankov said. "I think you do not understand how weak you are."
Sanji's anger flared.
"You didn't see—"
"I saw enough."
Ivankov's presence changed.
The air itself seemed to bend.
"You faced monsters and survived by talent and luck. But when you faced true power, you vanished."
Sanji couldn't deny it.
"You want to protect your captain?" Ivankov asked. "Then answer me this: if he were here now, bleeding again, would you save him?"
Sanji opened his mouth.
Nothing came out.
Ivankov turned away.
"You already know the answer."
Sanji's hands shook.
"…Damn it…"
He bit down hard.
"…Teach me."
Ivankov stopped.
"Oh?"
"I don't care how. I don't care what you do to me." Sanji bowed his head. "I won't lose them again."
Silence.
Then—
Ivankov laughed.
A huge, booming laugh.
"Good! Then let me kill the man you are now!"
Sanji looked up sharply.
"…What?"
"You will suffer. You will be humiliated. You will beg. And when you are empty—only then can we build something that can stand in the New World."
Ivankov pointed toward the distant castle.
"Your training begins now."
Sanji swallowed.
"…Fine."
Ivankov smiled.
"First lesson?"
He snapped his fingers.
The ground trembled.
From the hills, shadows began to appear.
Dozens.
Then hundreds.
Figures in dresses. In suits. In makeup. In heels.
All charging.
Sanji's eye twitched.
"…Why do I hear boss music?"
Ivankov grinned.
"Survive."