Mistake

As Sanji sat on the cold kitchen floor, his heart felt as heavy as the weight of the world pressing down on him.
Tears streamed down his face as he tried to make sense of everything that had happened.
The crew's laughter and chatter floated in from outside, but to him, it sounded like a distant echo, a reminder of how alone he felt.
In that moment of despair, thoughts began to swirl in his mind, weaving a narrative of his pain.
Why can't I find my place anymore? he thought, grappling with a deep sense of disconnection.
I feel like I don't belong to myself, nor do I belong to anyone else. What's wrong with me? Why does it feel like I'm fading away?
"I neither belong to myself nor to anyone else; oh God, why is it like this?" The phrase replayed in his mind like a haunting echo.
He had always prided himself on being the crew's pillar, the one who supported them without question.
But lately, he felt like he was losing himself, slipping between the cracks of their lives.
It was as if he existed in a shadow, watching others live fully while he remained stuck in this emptiness.
Why do I feel like a ghost in my own life? His thoughts raced, and with each passing moment, the weight on his chest grew heavier.
I'm always there for everyone, always cooking, always laughing, but when it comes to me, no one seems to notice.
Why does this hurt so much?
"Why is it like this?" He couldn't help but feel abandoned by fate itself.
The slap from Nami echoed in his mind, and the sting wasn't just physical; it was emotional.
It represented everything he felt-the isolation, the rejection, the sense of being a burden rather than a friend.
I've given everything to them, yet here I am, feeling like I don't matter.
I try to be strong for everyone, but what happens when I'm the one who needs strength?
His heart ached with the realization that he was losing touch with himself.
"Will I ever find myself? Can I ever find my way back to who I was? It feels like I'm chasing shadows, and they always slip away just when I think I'm close."
Sanji wiped his eyes, but more tears fell, each one a reminder of the confusion and despair swirling inside him.
What is the point of being here if I'm just a shadow? A tool for them? He wanted to scream, to let the world know how he felt, but the words got caught in his throat, suffocated by the silence surrounding him.
"Where am I?" He whispered to himself, feeling utterly lost. In that moment, he understood the depth of his loneliness.
The laughter of his crewmates echoed outside, vibrant and full of life, while he sat here, trapped in his own sorrow.
I'm supposed to be the happy cook, the charming guy everyone loves.
But inside, I feel like I'm crumbling.
Why is it so hard for them to see? His mind raced with self-doubt, drowning in the realization that he had built a wall around himself so high that even he couldn't climb over it anymore.
"Why am I so alone?" He thought, feeling a sense of despair wash over him.
Why do I feel so alone? It was as if he had become a part of the scenery, a background character in his own life.
He was there, but no one truly saw him anymore.
After sitting on the cold kitchen floor for what felt like hours, Sanji finally stood up and made his way to the sink.
He splashed cold water on his face, trying to wash away the remnants of his tears and the heaviness in his heart.
Looking into the mirror, he forced a smile, whispering to himself, "My absence will never haunt anyone because my presence never mattered."
With that thought lingering in his mind, he moved to start cooking dinner.
The familiar rhythm of chopping vegetables and stirring pots was a temporary balm for his aching soul.
He laid out the plates meticulously on the dining table, each setting a reflection of the care he always put into his work.
As the nine members of the crew entered the kitchen, the usual chatter filled the air, but for Sanji, it felt like a world away.
He caught a glimpse of Nami, her face animated as she laughed and chatted with the others.
A bittersweet smile crept onto his lips as he watched her, but it quickly faded.
He knew better than to hope for her attention.
He felt invisible, as if he were merely a ghost haunting the kitchen.
Without uttering a word, he quietly left the room, knowing that his absence would go unnoticed, just as it had so many times before.
Nami would only resent him more if she saw him now.
Stepping outside, he looked up at the moon shining brightly in the night sky.
A sense of calm washed over him as he smiled at its beauty.
Suddenly, a memory flashed in his mind, vivid and painful:
"Look, Sanji... how beautiful... the moon is." The voice was soft, tinged with warmth, but it cracked with emotion as she said those words to him.
Sanji's heart ached at the recollection.
He remembered holding her hand tightly, tears streaming down his face as he responded, "No... I will only look at you. You are more beautiful."
The memory pulled at him like a tide, and he felt tears brimming in his eyes once more.
He blinked rapidly, forcing himself to focus, to stave off the flood of grief that threatened to overwhelm him.
But as another memory surged, he felt the weight of it all pushing down on him.
I can't keep feeling like this, he thought.
I have to bottle it up again.
With trembling hands, he reached into his coat pocket, retrieving a cigarette.
He placed it between his lips and flicked open his golden lighter, the flame dancing for a moment before catching the end of the cigarette.
As he took a long puff, the familiar taste filled his mouth, providing a brief sense of relief as he exhaled slowly, letting the smoke drift away into the night air.
After calming down a little, he smiled at the moon once more, trying to find solace in its glow.
He knew the others were still inside, finishing their meal, but he felt more disconnected than ever.
As he turned to go back inside, he saw the crew moving around the kitchen, still absorbed in their conversations and laughter.
He stepped back into the kitchen and resumed his routine.
He plated the food, serving the crew with his usual flair, but the joy that usually accompanied these tasks was absent.
He moved through the motions, deliberately ignoring the growing emptiness in his stomach.
It didn't matter that he was hungry; he was used to it.
What mattered was ensuring the others were fed, even if it meant sacrificing his own needs.
As the crew continued to enjoy their dinner, laughter ringing around him, Sanji's heart felt heavier than ever.
He stood quietly at the edge of the kitchen, a silent observer in a world where he felt increasingly invisible.
After everyone had left the kitchen, their laughter fading into the distance, Sanji remained behind, staring at the scattered plates and the mess on the table.
Normally, this would be the time when he'd slip into his routine-cleaning every corner of the kitchen until it was spotless, taking pride in the way he kept everything in order.
But tonight, something was different.
He didn't have the energy or the will to go through the motions.
Instead, he grabbed a book from the counter drawer and hopped onto the table, sitting there with his legs crossed.
He flipped it open to a blank page, picking up a pencil and letting his hand move almost of its own accord.
For what felt like an hour, he scribbled and sketched, his mind lost in the simple action.
The sound of the pencil scraping the paper was the only thing that filled the quiet room.
When he finally stopped and looked at what he had drawn, he realized it was a beautiful sketch of the people he loved-the crew.
His eyes scanned over each face. In the middle was their captain, Luffy, with his usual wide, carefree grin.
On Luffy's right was Zoro, stern but content.
To Luffy's left, Sanji had sketched himself.
But as he moved his gaze over the others-Nami, Robin, Chopper, Brook, Franky, Jimbei, and Usopp-each one was smiling, full of life.
Then he noticed something strange.
His own face... it wasn't there.
He had drawn everyone with such care, their expressions full of happiness, but when it came to himself, there was nothing.
Just a blank space where his face should have been.
Sanji stared at it for a moment, a small smile tugging at his lips.
Maybe I don't even know my own face, he thought.
The emptiness where his features should have been mirrored the way he felt inside-lost, undefined, a man whose identity had slipped away over time.
He closed the book gently, sliding it back into the drawer beneath the counter.
Standing up, he stretched his limbs and glanced around the now-empty kitchen.
The mess still lay untouched, but for once, he didn't care.
He needed rest more than anything else.
Heading to the bunk room, he quietly slipped into his bed.
The exhaustion that had been building all day washed over him as soon as his head hit the pillow.
His eyes fluttered shut, and just before he drifted off to sleep, he muttered to himself,
"I will not give up."
In that moment, as sleep took hold of him, there was a glimmer of hope, even amidst all the pain and doubt.
He didn't know how to fix the emptiness he felt or how to find his place again, but he knew one thing:
he wasn't going to give up on his crew or himself.
Not yet.
***