Rain hit the balcony railing like loose change someone didn't bother to pick up. Toku stood there in the open doorway, shirt clinging cold to his ribs, tie hanging like a noose he'd forgotten to tighten. The city below was just streaks of light and shadow, the same view he'd stared at for years without ever really seeing it.
He didn't think heroic thoughts. No montage of regrets. Just the quiet knowledge that tomorrow would be the same as today, only heavier. The phone in his pocket buzzed once—probably the boss again. He didn't check.
One step. Then another. The drop took less time than he expected. Air rushed past his ears, sharp and indifferent. His stomach flipped once, like it finally noticed what was happening. Then nothing.
He waited for the impact that never came.
Instead there was salt. Wood under his palms. The slow roll of the sea.
He opened his eyes.
Blond curls hung in his face. One eyebrow curled upward in a perfect, ridiculous spiral. A cigarette sat between his lips, unlit, tasting faintly of tobacco and something metallic. He lifted a hand—long fingers, callused from years he hadn't lived yet. He touched his jaw. Goatee. Sharp cheekbones. The suit fit like it was made for him. Black. Crisp. Familiar in a way that made his pulse jump.
He sat up.
The Going Merry creaked around him. Sun low on the water, turning everything gold and warm. Laughter drifted from the galley—bright, stupid, unstoppable.
"Sanji! Meat! Meat meat meat!"
Luffy. That voice could cut through fog.
Toku—Toku still, inside—pushed to his feet. Legs felt wrong. Too strong. Like springs wound tight. He took a step. The deck tilted under him, gentle, and he didn't stumble.
He walked to the railing. Looked out at the endless blue. Breathed. The air tasted clean. Alive.
Footsteps behind him. Small ones. Chopper's hooves.
"Sanji? You okay? You were sleeping weird on the deck again."
Toku turned. The little reindeer stood there, wide eyes, hat tilted. Concern plain on his face.
He opened his mouth. The words came out smooth, easy, in a voice that wasn't his but felt like it belonged there.
"I'm fine, Chopper. Just... taking in the view."
Chopper tilted his head. "You sure? Your face looks kinda funny."
Toku smiled. Sanji's smile. Crooked, charming, the one that made women sigh and men roll their eyes.
"Nothing a good meal won't fix. Go tell Luffy I'll be right there."
Chopper scampered off, tail wagging despite himself.
Toku stayed at the railing a moment longer. The cigarette was still between his lips. He found a match in his pocket, old habit, new body—and lit it. First drag burned sweet and sharp. Smoke curled into the sky.
He looked down at himself. The suit. The legs. The everything.
Then he heard her.
Nami's voice from the women's quarters, muffled through the door. Laughing at something Usopp said. Light. Easy. Close.
His pulse kicked. Not fear. Not guilt. Something older. Hungrier.
He exhaled smoke slow.
The ship rocked. The sea stretched on. The crew moved around him like they always had. Loud, chaotic, trusting.
And inside him something uncoiled.
Not Sanji.
Not anymore.
He flicked ash over the side.
Then he walked toward the galley.
The cigarette stayed in his mouth. Still burning.