Mark hesitates as things start to click together, just why this woman looks so familiar, and it isn't just that outright stated familial relationship to Sanji. He remembers a little girl telling a little boy to run, to never come back, and—
And before he can think further, move further, they're interrupted. It's a good thing Mark saw that memory after all, because knowing that despite her cold exterior she does care about Sanji — or at the very least, did — he's much more willing to not make a fuss. He stops where he is, not moving, hardly breathing as he listens in on everything.
There is a surge of anger leaping to the forefront, teeth bared, nostrils flaring as they talk about this reunion. So it's a good thing he's here after all, he decides, and he isn't going to let Sanji tell him otherwise. His fists clench again, shoulders tensing, but Sanji's sister was clearly not a part of this, and from his vantage point he can hazard a guess she doesn't approve. The others — brothers? — sound like they've had a good time compared to her dismissiveness, and Mark kind of wants to punch a hole in each of them.
Won't. (Yet?) The talk of a bride is another alarm bell on its own, because as far as he knows Sanji and Asa haven't broken up, and for as weird as Asa could be, he doubts she was a part of this. Something is very, very wrong here, and for as much as he'd like to burst his way through every part of this castle until he finds Sanji and removes him from the situation, he has enough sense to recognize that if the people here have some way of neutralizing him, then Sanji probably isn't getting any help whatsoever.
Which means he's going to have to play it smart.
... Which means Mark is going to have to listen to Sanji's sister. By the time she's lowered her hand from the door the open anger on his features has been sharpened into a cold determination. He brings his own hand up to push the door open a little further, allowing him to see more of the mostly-vacated hallway, and stares directly at her. ]
So we're getting him out of here, right? [ Judging by the tone of his voice, it's not a question — but after a beat he softens. ] I know you helped him escape once before. I just need to know if you're still that person.
[ As long as she is, he'll follow her lead. If she isn't... Well, maybe his own element of surprise will keep any consequences of his impulsiveness at bay. ]
[The naked anger on his face earlier was reminiscent of the look Sanji had worn mere hours ago. Instead of resignation, however, there's now resolve in the tight set of the former's lips. Reiju's gaze lingers on his obscured face, her eyes blinking slowly at the question laced in those steadfast words.
Nobody changes in Germa, much less for the better. That was why Sanji had to go. This friend of his is deeply sentimental if he's willing to trust her word at face value, but this could be a good thing. If he's still here, much as she would like him to, Sanji will not leave. While it doesn't matter what sort of person or thing she is now, if he were to meet with his friend, then perhaps . . .
Reiju turns her head away to begin striding down the medieval corridor in the direction from which her brothers came. A visit from them never ends without bloodshed and broken skin.]
Mark pauses for a second, processing that, before he starts following her. He's staying on the ground now, footsteps right behind her — at least until he uses his longer stride to catch up and walk alongside her.
Peers at her. Scrutinizes her from underneath his goggles. ]
You didn't really answer me.
[ But he's still walking beside her anyway, so evidently he has no problem with the let's find Sanji component. Gonna keep staring at her in the meantime, though, like that'll will out something he wants to hear. ]
[It wasn't, and she won't—not until she hears what Sanji has to say to his friend. The latter's gaze on her is palpable, but Reiju keeps hers trained on the empty corridor before them. They round the aforementioned bend and press onward, soon after which they come upon a set of large, ajar double doors, where she gives him this much:]
It's been over a decade since Sanji left Germa. We're no longer children; just bear in mind that he chose to come back. [She finally looks over her shoulder at him.] And the contents of this room are to stay behind these doors.
[Even she and her brothers were barred from entering as children. This is a closely guarded secret of the kingdom that she's willing to expose as a byproduct of taking him to Sanji. With that perfunctory warning out of the way, she pushes a door wide open, revealing a modern laboratory.
Rows upon rows and even snaking up like pillars are large cylinders in a shape akin to a corked bottle. Each is numbered with a glass-like casing around the top half, filled with some sort of fluid and a slumbering body. If Mark cares to look long enough, he'll notice that all of these people—hundreds of them, mostly male—are identical to each other among a handful of variants, and they occupy most of the space in the laboratory.
None of this is exciting to Reiju, who steps forward—toward the medical team clamoring around a figure on the floor farther inside—with the decisive clack of her heel.]
Step back!
["Oh," says a fretful doctor, "Lady Reiju, we're about to treat his . . . "]
I said, get out of my way!
[The doctors pick up their bags and flee in a comedic panic at her outburst, hardly even noticing Mark in the vicinity. The laboratory falls quiet, filled by the background humming of machinery, as Reiju steps over to her fallen brother's side.
Swollen beyond recognition, Sanji's face is a mess of bloody bruises. His visible eye just barely manages to open at her approach that she wonders if he can even see in that sorry state. Cracks of various sizes in the bloodstained ground and the sizable cables running along it, some severe enough to expose the wires within, suggest that he must have been slammed against them more than once. All told, he's lucky that his body is still intact at a glance.
Reiju's shoulders sag in a silent sigh. They're no longer children, and their brothers are even stronger now. Judging by the state of them from before, Sanji hadn't fought back—hadn't even used haki to defend himself from their abuse.]
[ A year ago, Mark probably would have wilted at Reiju's look, let the fight drain out of him and cede power to someone clearly more experienced. But a lot's happened to him in the past year, and he isn't feeling so milquetoast anymore. Instead he just nods, because Sanji's family sure likes their fucked up little secrets, huh.
But he doesn't believe for a second that Sanji actually chose to come back.
He follows her into the lab, and immediately feels a chill up his spine, thinking about the white room at the GDA. Instinctively Mark brings a hand up to his ear, like it's just occurred to him that he might be walking into a trap and might be writhing on the ground at any second. The threat of his own personal horror mutes what he should be feeling at seeing a bunch of bodies in test tubes, and his body goes rigid again, on guard.
So he misses Sanji entirely — at least until Reiju starts making demands, and the doctors all flee, and he's just standing there until he sees him.
Within a fraction of a second Mark is at Sanji's side opposite from Reiju, creating a gust of wind with the speed at which he moves. This isn't something he's used to seeing; usually, it's Mark who's the one lying amid the wreckage, barely conscious and beaten to all hell, not someone he cares about. He pulls his mask off, hovering over Sanji worriedly, Reiju all but forgotten. (Sorry sweet Reiju.) ]
Sanji? Oh, god... [ Any commanding presence he's tried to maintain is gone, Mark worrying at his lower lip, brows knit together as he reaches to try to take Sanji's hands in his own. ] I'm going to get you out of here, okay?
[ Where to, he doesn't know. The Baratie? Somehow? He isn't thinking much further ahead than scoop up Sanji, fly through the roof, leave. What to do after that is a problem for future Mark. ]
[Oh, Reiju thinks as recognition flickers in her eyes, it's Mark. That explains a few things while raising some questions. She doesn't mind being forgotten; in fact, this is what she'd prefer in favor of watching their interaction.
Meanwhile, Sanji's heart stops at the sound of a familiar voice that doesn't belong within these walls.]
Mark . . . ?!
[Eyes widening to half their usual size, Sanji snaps upright. He grits his teeth through the shooting pain in his lower back, and bites out a strangled protest as resignation churns into panic at the idea of fleeing this hell he once called home—of the consequences that would bring down on the eastern sea.]
No!
[The golden bracelets fitted around his wrists bump against his pisiforms when he brings his hands up and out of Mark's grasp, all but ripping himself away from a friend who only means well. Everything aches, but he tamps down on the pain and the fear with a deep furrow of his brow. Sanji draws a knee up and rests an arm against it, his face turned away from Mark. Like this, he glimpses Reiju's leg in his periphery.]
[ Mark, single-minded and simple as he is, continues to forget that Reiju is there entirely. He moves with Sanji as the latter snaps upright, eyes widening for a second at the sudden movement, the obvious pain. But Sanji's still very much alive, and that's the only thing he cares about right now.
Only to recoil when Sanji rips himself away from him. Mark unceremoniously falls back on his ass, staring at him, confused and deeply, deeply concerned. There's a lot wrong here; that Sanji is so injured should be at the top of the list, but his rejection feels worse. Is worse. ]
... Okay. [ Mark hesitates for a moment before shifting into a squat, staying down on Sanji's level, but ready to get up at any time. He doesn't reach out to him, though, and his voice is small before taking on a pleading tone. ] Okay, but let's get you out of here, alright? I know you don't want to be here. I've got you.
[Mark knows. That makes this a hundred times more difficult than it needs to be, because the guy is a stubborn bleeding heart who can't let things go. To make matters worse, he's not even a native of this world, which means he's stuck here over something that doesn't concern him. He's already dealing with enough back home. Why does he have to be here?
Sanji's hands clench into fists as he sucks in a deep breath. He angles his head down and halfway toward Mark, eyeing the floor between them.]
How did you get here?
["I brought him," says Reiju, to which Sanji whips around and calls her name in disbelief. "We can talk about it in your room. This place isn't secure, and you need treatment."]
. . . Fine.
[He climbs onto his feet, swaying exactly once before righting himself and looking over his shoulder at Mark. At this angle, his hair obscures most of his profile to keep the worst of his visible injuries from the latter's line of sight.]
Let's go. [His swollen eye sweeps over the test tubes all around them. He hunches in on himself, dropping his voice to a murmur:] This place is making me sick.
[And he needed Mark out of here yesterday, far away from his family troubles.]
[ He's trying to swallow his heart back down, the way it leaps into his throat at the sight of what's happened to Sanji. Maybe it's worse because he can't see the full extent of his injuries and it lets his mind run wild with the possibilities. He doesn't think Sanji can take damage to the extent that he can, so maybe that makes it all worse? Or maybe he can, and it really is just that bad— Mark doesn't know.
His throat bobs either way, trepidation churning in his gut. In search of something to do he chooses to follow what's visible of Sanji's gaze, looking over at the test tubes, the bodies in them. Now he can see that they're almost identical, which is unnerving for a whole other set of multiverse reasons, but that's his own shit. He doesn't need to drag that up here.
Focus on Sanji instead. He likes that Sanji listening to reason, and he probably should thank Reiju for saying something, for bringing him here, for... a lot of things? But like she said, this place isn't secure (this was not something he thought to be concerned about), so it'll have to wait.
He also liked that Sanji was talking, but casual conversation is a little impossible at the moment, so Mark has to go with the next best (shitty) option. He has enough sense to pull his mask back on at least, but his demeanour is much more uncertain now, to the point that it might even be somewhat familiar to Reiju too. ]
Yeah, me too. [ This place is making him feel sick, too. He shouldn't ask, he shouldn't ask, he shouldn't ask but he wants to keep the conversation going, he's going to ask. ] What is this place, anyway?
[Sanji freezes mid step at the question. Germa's secrets mean nothing to him, but the same can't be said for Mark's well-being. Although the concern isn't lost on him, divulging too much will only serve to trap Mark even more. Sanji can't have that.
In the end, he mutters:] Nowhere important.
[Mercifully, Reiju doesn't interject as she leads the march back to the residential wing. Rather than his usual two-piece suit, Sanji's in a white ruffled shirt with a pair of dark pants, both cut from the highest quality of fabric only the elite can afford. The raiment feels wrong on him, but he shoves both hands in the trouser pockets, his shoulders hiked up into a hunch, and follows after his sister to get things moving so that Mark can leave.
[ Mark frowns, outright stopping for a moment at Sanji's words — at least until he recognizes that the two of them are going to keep going, and he shifts to a glide to catch up, feet touching the ground again when he's right beside Sanji, staring at him through those black goggles of his.
At the very least he knows enough to keep his voice quiet, but there's more of an edge to it when he speaks. ]
You know I didn't believe you the first time you tried to tell me that, right.
[ Not even the pretense of a question this time. Just scrutiny — come on, man. Even if he recognizes they should only be really having this conversation in his room, he's not going to let Sanji think he can get away with just sweeping everything under the rug. ]
One of his hands twitches in a pocket. This is the thing about Mark. No guy on the crew is so willing to explore feelings and personal details with one another while the girls are content to let sleeping dogs lie in peace. Mark isn't built like that: He sees a vulnerability, and he has to treat it like something precious, because it's the good, fair thing to do—except this isn't fair. Sanji has no intention of sharing in that.
He keeps his limited vision on Reiju's back. Knowing her, she's listening in on every whispered word between them. Mark's getup is a little different from what he remembers, but that just reinforces the thought that the guy doesn't belong here.]
It has nothing to do with me.
[Nor does he want to have anything to do with it. It's sickening, and his stomach roils at the mere thought of that place they've just left behind. He wants to put it out of his mind altogether.]
Mark's too focused on watching Sanji watch Reiju to notice that twitch, or the quality of his clothes, or much of anything beyond what's directly in front of him. All of his brainpower is going into trying to discern his expression, but that's pretty difficult on its own considering the state he's in. His eyes narrow, not that anyone can see that, and he's silent for a little too long, like he knows trying to get something out of Sanji is going to be a losing battle but he wants to fight it anyway.
After a moment, ] Okay.
[ He'll drop it. Just like that.
Except no he won't. ]
But once you're safe, I can come back and handle it.
[ Handle what, he doesn't know, but when he's basically a walking nuke Mark's pretty sure he can take care of anything in this castle one way or another. ]
[It's not that he doubts Mark's abilities. The guy is stupidly strong and durable. He's Invincible. If anyone can tear through the castle in one shot, it's him.
Sanji chews discreetly on his swollen lower lip.
Despite that, he can't shake off the dread swirling in his gut at the thought of Mark's handling anything. They've left that disgusting laboratory, yet he feels even sicker the closer they get to his assigned chamber. It's not the room he had as a kid with a bookshelf full of books he'd read to enrich his developing mind, but a standard bedroom with expensive furnishing and a tacky portrait of Judge, looming over the decapitated heads of four kings, that takes up almost the entire length of a wall. It's an eyesore; however, it's a step up from the real thing, so he drags his feet inside once they make it to the doors.
Reiju passes the forgotten phone to him on his way inside. She lingers in the doorway, and then turns away once Mark passes her. "I'm going to fetch some supplies. Make yourselves comfortable in the meantime." With that, she takes her leave while Sanji stands in the middle of the spacious room in silence, his back to her departing figure with the phone clutched tightly in one hand at his side.
Just what is she up to? He takes in a shallow, quiet breath and holds it before exhaling silently. He's already lost it once the other night, clawing at his scalp and bellowing at the top of his lungs, and he's not about to do that in front of Mark. It's his fault the guy is here.]
[ He'd love to take Sanji's silence as an acceptance — "Okay, Mark, you do everything you need to do" — but even he knows better than to think that's what Sanji actually means.
It makes him feel helpless, which is not a good feeling, which in turn makes him angry. He's keeping that to himself for now though, even if the sight of that portrait as he walks into the room ignites in him the need to tear something to shreds. Something about the fact that someone would feel it's necessary to put up art like that. Whoever that is, they can't be a good person, so they don't deserve their weird art.
But this isn't about him, and as agitated as Mark is, he knows unleashing his temper is a recipe for disaster more than anything else. At least until Sanji gives him a green light already, which isn't happening when he's just standing there, beating himself up internally if Mark had to guess.
In, out, he breathes, until finally he shrugs his backpack from his shoulders, depositing it unceremoniously on the floor. Takes his mask off now that they're somewhere secluded, dropping it on top of his bag. Thinks, because there are a million questions he could ask, but maybe he should start with the most pertinent one.
Tilting his head back towards the closed door, whether Sanji can actually see what he's doing or not, ] Can we trust her?
[ So far everything about his sister has been weird, but not actually offensive. Just... weird. ]
There's no "we" here, but that's the question. In spite of everything she's done for him, their relationship right now is strained at best. Reiju is Judge's subordinate, and she's already tried to sell the marriage to Sanji. Of course, anyone would be crazy to turn down someone like Pudding on a normal day, but nothing about this is normal. This isn't the life he wants.
It's the life he's getting, though, he thinks as he slides his unoccupied hand in a pocket again. Mark needs to understand that before he starts getting too many ideas in his head.]
[ Too late, there are already too many ideas rattling around in his head. He just needs to pick the one that not only makes the most sense, but is also the one he wants.
Which, judging by Sanji's words, he's starting to suspect they're going to be at odds on this. And while there's a part of Mark that will always remain meek and ready to people-please, the more he starts to come into himself, the more he's going to decide that he's right, actually. That everyone else should just deal with that fact, actually.
He crosses his arms over his chest, defiant, ready to lock horns. ]
I know you don't want to be here, so I'm not leaving until we get you where you actually want to be.
[Mark is too stubborn to accept otherwise, not when physical evidence exists to refute it. Sanji, who casually turns around to face him in spite of his own unsightliness, will give him that much, sounding wholly unimpressed in a flat tone.
Lock horns? Fine. He can be a ram.]
Where I want to be is the Whole Cake Chateau. My fiancée is waiting for me there.
[ It probably doesn't help Mark's credibility that his first instinct, when seeing just how bad of a shape Sanji is in, is to flinch, flat expression shifting into concern — jaw slackening, brows knit together. He uncrosses his arms, reaching out with a hand before remembering they're kind of supposed to be fighting right now, so he lets it fall limply to his side instead.
Great stuff, Mark Grayson. Made worse by the fact that he knows he's only effective as a force of destruction, which is not what Sanji, the person, needs right now. Regardless of whatever their relationship status is at this point because I truly don't know, he wishes Josuke was the one here instead.
[Sanji's heart clenches at the mention of her name, betrayed by the faint twitch of his brow. Asa and Yoru . . . For their collective sake, he's going to have to send a message or place a call sooner than later. It'll hurt them and he'll never forgive himself for it, but he can't afford to drag them into his mess.]
She isn't.
[He tosses the phone onto the nearest circular seat and pockets his freed hand.]
My bride is the beautiful daughter of another pirate.
Well. A lot of somethings aren't right, Mark already knows; that much is obvious. But even when Sanji is being defiant and standoffish and, well, a dick if he's being honest, that twitch of his brow is saying something, more than the actual words coming out of his mouth.
Mark turns to stare at the phone instead. His own is staying secured in a pocket on his suit — he absolutely cannot afford to lose it here — but stares at Sanji's on the chair, not turning from it. ]
When did you guys break up, [ except he doesn't exactly ask it like it's a question, voice flattening. I don't think I believe you. ]
It doesn't matter if Mark disbelieves him. All he has to do is lose the guy's respect, and then Mark will go away. To that end, Sanji gives the phone a halfhearted glance.]
Ah, that's right. [His tone is flippant, as if Asa is even less than an afterthought when she's anything but. It feels wrong and dreadful. She is—was everything.] I'd forgotten all about it. I'll have to tell that girl I've found someone better later.
[ Sanji is very, very close to losing Mark's respect at present time. He can't help the curl of his lip at that flippant tone, the flaring of his nostrils. It matters less right now that Mark doesn't think he believes Sanji and more that he's pissing him off; such is the life of a guy who runs off of emotions.
His phone, though. Mark narrows his eyes at it before looking up to face Sanji, staring right past his injuries. In light of what he's saying, they don't feel as relevant. ]
Tell her now. Nobody else is here so it's not like it's a problem, right? What's stopping you?
[ Either he's calling Sanji's bluff or his friend really is an asshole now. Mark's not sure which, but he'd rather force Sanji into doing something so then he can do something, whatever that something ends up being. ]
[Mark is right. Agonizingly so. At this point, there's no good reason for Sanji to hang onto the miracle he was gifted two years ago. He needs to let it go—all of it.
He takes a casual step toward the chair, biting down on the pain that shoots up his spine, and picks up the phone. It switches on to life; a part of him is wretchedly relieved that nobody has contacted him in recent days. With deceptive calm, he swipes over to Asa's contact.
Neither she nor Yoru gets the dignity of a breakup in person or even over a call. Sanji swallows down the bile and focuses on the movement of his thumb to tap out a message, then sends it before he can hesitate. Purposefully leaving the display on, he tosses the phone over his shoulder at Mark. Unlike his preceding messages littered with hearts and sweet nothings, the latest text is terse and to the point: It's over between us. I found another girl.]
It's all Mark can do but stare, dumbfounded, as Sanji actually types. Hits send before he can even do anything. It's autopilot that has him moving to catch the phone, fumbling for a second before he gets a proper hold on it. Stares at that last message. Stares at the contrast between it and the preceding ones, the ones he'd come to expect someone like Sanji to send.
Looks up to stare at Sanji, brows furrowed.
Drops the phone unceremoniously on the floor and moves, fast, to try to use his forearm to pin him up against the nearest wall. Whether he gets to him or not Mark's visibly pissed off now, voice harsh as he snaps out at him. ]
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no subject
Mark hesitates as things start to click together, just why this woman looks so familiar, and it isn't just that outright stated familial relationship to Sanji. He remembers a little girl telling a little boy to run, to never come back, and—
And before he can think further, move further, they're interrupted. It's a good thing Mark saw that memory after all, because knowing that despite her cold exterior she does care about Sanji — or at the very least, did — he's much more willing to not make a fuss. He stops where he is, not moving, hardly breathing as he listens in on everything.
There is a surge of anger leaping to the forefront, teeth bared, nostrils flaring as they talk about this reunion. So it's a good thing he's here after all, he decides, and he isn't going to let Sanji tell him otherwise. His fists clench again, shoulders tensing, but Sanji's sister was clearly not a part of this, and from his vantage point he can hazard a guess she doesn't approve. The others — brothers? — sound like they've had a good time compared to her dismissiveness, and Mark kind of wants to punch a hole in each of them.
Won't. (Yet?) The talk of a bride is another alarm bell on its own, because as far as he knows Sanji and Asa haven't broken up, and for as weird as Asa could be, he doubts she was a part of this. Something is very, very wrong here, and for as much as he'd like to burst his way through every part of this castle until he finds Sanji and removes him from the situation, he has enough sense to recognize that if the people here have some way of neutralizing him, then Sanji probably isn't getting any help whatsoever.
Which means he's going to have to play it smart.
... Which means Mark is going to have to listen to Sanji's sister. By the time she's lowered her hand from the door the open anger on his features has been sharpened into a cold determination. He brings his own hand up to push the door open a little further, allowing him to see more of the mostly-vacated hallway, and stares directly at her. ]
So we're getting him out of here, right? [ Judging by the tone of his voice, it's not a question — but after a beat he softens. ] I know you helped him escape once before. I just need to know if you're still that person.
[ As long as she is, he'll follow her lead. If she isn't... Well, maybe his own element of surprise will keep any consequences of his impulsiveness at bay. ]
no subject
Nobody changes in Germa, much less for the better. That was why Sanji had to go. This friend of his is deeply sentimental if he's willing to trust her word at face value, but this could be a good thing. If he's still here, much as she would like him to, Sanji will not leave. While it doesn't matter what sort of person or thing she is now, if he were to meet with his friend, then perhaps . . .
Reiju turns her head away to begin striding down the medieval corridor in the direction from which her brothers came. A visit from them never ends without bloodshed and broken skin.]
First, let's find Sanji.
no subject
Mark pauses for a second, processing that, before he starts following her. He's staying on the ground now, footsteps right behind her — at least until he uses his longer stride to catch up and walk alongside her.
Peers at her. Scrutinizes her from underneath his goggles. ]
You didn't really answer me.
[ But he's still walking beside her anyway, so evidently he has no problem with the let's find Sanji component. Gonna keep staring at her in the meantime, though, like that'll will out something he wants to hear. ]
🤡 last long tag?
It's been over a decade since Sanji left Germa. We're no longer children; just bear in mind that he chose to come back. [She finally looks over her shoulder at him.] And the contents of this room are to stay behind these doors.
[Even she and her brothers were barred from entering as children. This is a closely guarded secret of the kingdom that she's willing to expose as a byproduct of taking him to Sanji. With that perfunctory warning out of the way, she pushes a door wide open, revealing a modern laboratory.
Rows upon rows and even snaking up like pillars are large cylinders in a shape akin to a corked bottle. Each is numbered with a glass-like casing around the top half, filled with some sort of fluid and a slumbering body. If Mark cares to look long enough, he'll notice that all of these people—hundreds of them, mostly male—are identical to each other among a handful of variants, and they occupy most of the space in the laboratory.
None of this is exciting to Reiju, who steps forward—toward the medical team clamoring around a figure on the floor farther inside—with the decisive clack of her heel.]
Step back!
["Oh," says a fretful doctor, "Lady Reiju, we're about to treat his . . . "]
I said, get out of my way!
[The doctors pick up their bags and flee in a comedic panic at her outburst, hardly even noticing Mark in the vicinity. The laboratory falls quiet, filled by the background humming of machinery, as Reiju steps over to her fallen brother's side.
Swollen beyond recognition, Sanji's face is a mess of bloody bruises. His visible eye just barely manages to open at her approach that she wonders if he can even see in that sorry state. Cracks of various sizes in the bloodstained ground and the sizable cables running along it, some severe enough to expose the wires within, suggest that he must have been slammed against them more than once. All told, he's lucky that his body is still intact at a glance.
Reiju's shoulders sag in a silent sigh. They're no longer children, and their brothers are even stronger now. Judging by the state of them from before, Sanji hadn't fought back—hadn't even used haki to defend himself from their abuse.]
scoops up my jae longtags
But he doesn't believe for a second that Sanji actually chose to come back.
He follows her into the lab, and immediately feels a chill up his spine, thinking about the white room at the GDA. Instinctively Mark brings a hand up to his ear, like it's just occurred to him that he might be walking into a trap and might be writhing on the ground at any second. The threat of his own personal horror mutes what he should be feeling at seeing a bunch of bodies in test tubes, and his body goes rigid again, on guard.
So he misses Sanji entirely — at least until Reiju starts making demands, and the doctors all flee, and he's just standing there until he sees him.
Within a fraction of a second Mark is at Sanji's side opposite from Reiju, creating a gust of wind with the speed at which he moves. This isn't something he's used to seeing; usually, it's Mark who's the one lying amid the wreckage, barely conscious and beaten to all hell, not someone he cares about. He pulls his mask off, hovering over Sanji worriedly, Reiju all but forgotten. (Sorry sweet Reiju.) ]
Sanji? Oh, god... [ Any commanding presence he's tried to maintain is gone, Mark worrying at his lower lip, brows knit together as he reaches to try to take Sanji's hands in his own. ] I'm going to get you out of here, okay?
[ Where to, he doesn't know. The Baratie? Somehow? He isn't thinking much further ahead than scoop up Sanji, fly through the roof, leave. What to do after that is a problem for future Mark. ]
/greedily slurps my ari tags
Meanwhile, Sanji's heart stops at the sound of a familiar voice that doesn't belong within these walls.]
Mark . . . ?!
[Eyes widening to half their usual size, Sanji snaps upright. He grits his teeth through the shooting pain in his lower back, and bites out a strangled protest as resignation churns into panic at the idea of fleeing this hell he once called home—of the consequences that would bring down on the eastern sea.]
No!
[The golden bracelets fitted around his wrists bump against his pisiforms when he brings his hands up and out of Mark's grasp, all but ripping himself away from a friend who only means well. Everything aches, but he tamps down on the pain and the fear with a deep furrow of his brow. Sanji draws a knee up and rests an arm against it, his face turned away from Mark. Like this, he glimpses Reiju's leg in his periphery.]
I can get up on my own.
not my sweet reiju being forgotten... cruel
Only to recoil when Sanji rips himself away from him. Mark unceremoniously falls back on his ass, staring at him, confused and deeply, deeply concerned. There's a lot wrong here; that Sanji is so injured should be at the top of the list, but his rejection feels worse. Is worse. ]
... Okay. [ Mark hesitates for a moment before shifting into a squat, staying down on Sanji's level, but ready to get up at any time. He doesn't reach out to him, though, and his voice is small before taking on a pleading tone. ] Okay, but let's get you out of here, alright? I know you don't want to be here. I've got you.
she'd like to peace out but alas
Sanji's hands clench into fists as he sucks in a deep breath. He angles his head down and halfway toward Mark, eyeing the floor between them.]
How did you get here?
["I brought him," says Reiju, to which Sanji whips around and calls her name in disbelief. "We can talk about it in your room. This place isn't secure, and you need treatment."]
. . . Fine.
[He climbs onto his feet, swaying exactly once before righting himself and looking over his shoulder at Mark. At this angle, his hair obscures most of his profile to keep the worst of his visible injuries from the latter's line of sight.]
Let's go. [His swollen eye sweeps over the test tubes all around them. He hunches in on himself, dropping his voice to a murmur:] This place is making me sick.
[And he needed Mark out of here yesterday, far away from his family troubles.]
:(
His throat bobs either way, trepidation churning in his gut. In search of something to do he chooses to follow what's visible of Sanji's gaze, looking over at the test tubes, the bodies in them. Now he can see that they're almost identical, which is unnerving for a whole other set of multiverse reasons, but that's his own shit. He doesn't need to drag that up here.
Focus on Sanji instead. He likes that Sanji listening to reason, and he probably should thank Reiju for saying something, for bringing him here, for... a lot of things? But like she said, this place isn't secure (this was not something he thought to be concerned about), so it'll have to wait.
He also liked that Sanji was talking, but casual conversation is a little impossible at the moment, so Mark has to go with the next best (shitty) option. He has enough sense to pull his mask back on at least, but his demeanour is much more uncertain now, to the point that it might even be somewhat familiar to Reiju too. ]
Yeah, me too. [ This place is making him feel sick, too. He shouldn't ask, he shouldn't ask, he shouldn't ask but he wants to keep the conversation going, he's going to ask. ] What is this place, anyway?
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In the end, he mutters:] Nowhere important.
[Mercifully, Reiju doesn't interject as she leads the march back to the residential wing. Rather than his usual two-piece suit, Sanji's in a white ruffled shirt with a pair of dark pants, both cut from the highest quality of fabric only the elite can afford. The raiment feels wrong on him, but he shoves both hands in the trouser pockets, his shoulders hiked up into a hunch, and follows after his sister to get things moving so that Mark can leave.
Damn. He needs a smoke.]
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At the very least he knows enough to keep his voice quiet, but there's more of an edge to it when he speaks. ]
You know I didn't believe you the first time you tried to tell me that, right.
[ Not even the pretense of a question this time. Just scrutiny — come on, man. Even if he recognizes they should only be really having this conversation in his room, he's not going to let Sanji think he can get away with just sweeping everything under the rug. ]
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One of his hands twitches in a pocket. This is the thing about Mark. No guy on the crew is so willing to explore feelings and personal details with one another while the girls are content to let sleeping dogs lie in peace. Mark isn't built like that: He sees a vulnerability, and he has to treat it like something precious, because it's the good, fair thing to do—except this isn't fair. Sanji has no intention of sharing in that.
He keeps his limited vision on Reiju's back. Knowing her, she's listening in on every whispered word between them. Mark's getup is a little different from what he remembers, but that just reinforces the thought that the guy doesn't belong here.]
It has nothing to do with me.
[Nor does he want to have anything to do with it. It's sickening, and his stomach roils at the mere thought of that place they've just left behind. He wants to put it out of his mind altogether.]
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Mark's too focused on watching Sanji watch Reiju to notice that twitch, or the quality of his clothes, or much of anything beyond what's directly in front of him. All of his brainpower is going into trying to discern his expression, but that's pretty difficult on its own considering the state he's in. His eyes narrow, not that anyone can see that, and he's silent for a little too long, like he knows trying to get something out of Sanji is going to be a losing battle but he wants to fight it anyway.
After a moment, ] Okay.
[ He'll drop it. Just like that.
Except no he won't. ]
But once you're safe, I can come back and handle it.
[ Handle what, he doesn't know, but when he's basically a walking nuke Mark's pretty sure he can take care of anything in this castle one way or another. ]
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Sanji chews discreetly on his swollen lower lip.
Despite that, he can't shake off the dread swirling in his gut at the thought of Mark's handling anything. They've left that disgusting laboratory, yet he feels even sicker the closer they get to his assigned chamber. It's not the room he had as a kid with a bookshelf full of books he'd read to enrich his developing mind, but a standard bedroom with expensive furnishing and a tacky portrait of Judge, looming over the decapitated heads of four kings, that takes up almost the entire length of a wall. It's an eyesore; however, it's a step up from the real thing, so he drags his feet inside once they make it to the doors.
Reiju passes the forgotten phone to him on his way inside. She lingers in the doorway, and then turns away once Mark passes her. "I'm going to fetch some supplies. Make yourselves comfortable in the meantime." With that, she takes her leave while Sanji stands in the middle of the spacious room in silence, his back to her departing figure with the phone clutched tightly in one hand at his side.
Just what is she up to? He takes in a shallow, quiet breath and holds it before exhaling silently. He's already lost it once the other night, clawing at his scalp and bellowing at the top of his lungs, and he's not about to do that in front of Mark. It's his fault the guy is here.]
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It makes him feel helpless, which is not a good feeling, which in turn makes him angry. He's keeping that to himself for now though, even if the sight of that portrait as he walks into the room ignites in him the need to tear something to shreds. Something about the fact that someone would feel it's necessary to put up art like that. Whoever that is, they can't be a good person, so they don't deserve their weird art.
But this isn't about him, and as agitated as Mark is, he knows unleashing his temper is a recipe for disaster more than anything else. At least until Sanji gives him a green light already, which isn't happening when he's just standing there, beating himself up internally if Mark had to guess.
In, out, he breathes, until finally he shrugs his backpack from his shoulders, depositing it unceremoniously on the floor. Takes his mask off now that they're somewhere secluded, dropping it on top of his bag. Thinks, because there are a million questions he could ask, but maybe he should start with the most pertinent one.
Tilting his head back towards the closed door, whether Sanji can actually see what he's doing or not, ] Can we trust her?
[ So far everything about his sister has been weird, but not actually offensive. Just... weird. ]
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There's no "we" here, but that's the question. In spite of everything she's done for him, their relationship right now is strained at best. Reiju is Judge's subordinate, and she's already tried to sell the marriage to Sanji. Of course, anyone would be crazy to turn down someone like Pudding on a normal day, but nothing about this is normal. This isn't the life he wants.
It's the life he's getting, though, he thinks as he slides his unoccupied hand in a pocket again. Mark needs to understand that before he starts getting too many ideas in his head.]
You need to go. I'm not going back.
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Which, judging by Sanji's words, he's starting to suspect they're going to be at odds on this. And while there's a part of Mark that will always remain meek and ready to people-please, the more he starts to come into himself, the more he's going to decide that he's right, actually. That everyone else should just deal with that fact, actually.
He crosses his arms over his chest, defiant, ready to lock horns. ]
I know you don't want to be here, so I'm not leaving until we get you where you actually want to be.
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[Mark is too stubborn to accept otherwise, not when physical evidence exists to refute it. Sanji, who casually turns around to face him in spite of his own unsightliness, will give him that much, sounding wholly unimpressed in a flat tone.
Lock horns? Fine. He can be a ram.]
Where I want to be is the Whole Cake Chateau. My fiancée is waiting for me there.
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Great stuff, Mark Grayson. Made worse by the fact that he knows he's only effective as a force of destruction, which is not what Sanji, the person, needs right now. Regardless of whatever their relationship status is at this point because I truly don't know, he wishes Josuke was the one here instead.
Voice softening, ] I didn't know Asa was here.
[ He just. Assumes. ]
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She isn't.
[He tosses the phone onto the nearest circular seat and pockets his freed hand.]
My bride is the beautiful daughter of another pirate.
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Well. A lot of somethings aren't right, Mark already knows; that much is obvious. But even when Sanji is being defiant and standoffish and, well, a dick if he's being honest, that twitch of his brow is saying something, more than the actual words coming out of his mouth.
Mark turns to stare at the phone instead. His own is staying secured in a pocket on his suit — he absolutely cannot afford to lose it here — but stares at Sanji's on the chair, not turning from it. ]
When did you guys break up, [ except he doesn't exactly ask it like it's a question, voice flattening. I don't think I believe you. ]
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It doesn't matter if Mark disbelieves him. All he has to do is lose the guy's respect, and then Mark will go away. To that end, Sanji gives the phone a halfhearted glance.]
Ah, that's right. [His tone is flippant, as if Asa is even less than an afterthought when she's anything but. It feels wrong and dreadful. She is—was everything.] I'd forgotten all about it. I'll have to tell that girl I've found someone better later.
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His phone, though. Mark narrows his eyes at it before looking up to face Sanji, staring right past his injuries. In light of what he's saying, they don't feel as relevant. ]
Tell her now. Nobody else is here so it's not like it's a problem, right? What's stopping you?
[ Either he's calling Sanji's bluff or his friend really is an asshole now. Mark's not sure which, but he'd rather force Sanji into doing something so then he can do something, whatever that something ends up being. ]
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[Mark is right. Agonizingly so. At this point, there's no good reason for Sanji to hang onto the miracle he was gifted two years ago. He needs to let it go—all of it.
He takes a casual step toward the chair, biting down on the pain that shoots up his spine, and picks up the phone. It switches on to life; a part of him is wretchedly relieved that nobody has contacted him in recent days. With deceptive calm, he swipes over to Asa's contact.
Neither she nor Yoru gets the dignity of a breakup in person or even over a call. Sanji swallows down the bile and focuses on the movement of his thumb to tap out a message, then sends it before he can hesitate. Purposefully leaving the display on, he tosses the phone over his shoulder at Mark. Unlike his preceding messages littered with hearts and sweet nothings, the latest text is terse and to the point: It's over between us. I found another girl.]
Take it. I won't be needing it anymore.
[He's scum. Hopefully, Mark sees that now.]
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did not go the way he thought it would.
It's all Mark can do but stare, dumbfounded, as Sanji actually types. Hits send before he can even do anything. It's autopilot that has him moving to catch the phone, fumbling for a second before he gets a proper hold on it. Stares at that last message. Stares at the contrast between it and the preceding ones, the ones he'd come to expect someone like Sanji to send.
Looks up to stare at Sanji, brows furrowed.
Drops the phone unceremoniously on the floor and moves, fast, to try to use his forearm to pin him up against the nearest wall. Whether he gets to him or not Mark's visibly pissed off now, voice harsh as he snaps out at him. ]
What the fuck is wrong with you?
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/slides back in
sweet reiju
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this canon point was a mistake for brevity aaAAH
huSH you're great with it
😭 merci beaucoup
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