They did not take him to an arena.
They took him to a room with nothing in it.
Stone floor.Stone walls.No windows.No weapons.No mirrors.
Just… emptiness.
Ivankov closed the door.
"You will not leave this room," Ivankov said, "until your will becomes heavier than your fear."
Sanji frowned. "…What does that mean?"
"You will learn."
The door closed.
The lock echoed.
The first day was easy.
Sanji sat.Breathed.Waited.
The second day, his body started to ache.
No training.No movement.No distraction.
Just being.
The third day, his mind started to get loud.
Memories came.
Kizaru's light.Luffy bleeding.The arena.The Germa soldier's empty eyes.
He tried to push them away.
They came back stronger.
By the fifth day, he was sweating without moving.
By the seventh day, he was shaking.
"…Tch… this is stupid…"
He stood.
Walked.
Paced.
There was nowhere to go.
Then the pressure started.
Not physical.
Existential.
It felt like the air itself was getting heavier.
Breathing took effort.
Standing took effort.
Thinking took effort.
He dropped to one knee.
"…What is this…?"
Ivankov's voice came through the wall.
"The world."
Sanji's eyes widened.
"This is what real monsters live inside every day."
The pressure increased.
Not crushing.
Judging.
Like the ocean staring at you and asking:
Do you deserve to exist here?
Sanji gritted his teeth.
"…I didn't come here to be crushed…"
The pressure did not care.
Then came the voices.
Not real.
But perfect.
"You're not enough.""You never were.""You're a cook pretending to be a fighter.""You'll be too slow again.""You'll watch them die again."
He covered his ears.
"…Shut up…"
The pressure increased.
His chest felt tight.
Breathing became hard.
His vision blurred.
For the first time since the arena…
He felt true panic.
Not fear of pain.
Fear of disappearing.
He fell flat on his back.
"…So this is Haki…?"
Ivankov's voice answered:
"No. This is what Haki is born from."
The pressure became suffocating.
Sanji's body started to tremble violently.
"…I can't…"
His thoughts started to fracture.
"…I can't do this…"
His heart started racing.
"…I'm not—"
Then—
He remembered something small.
Not Kizaru.
Not Germa.
Not monsters.
A table.
A broken ship.
A man with one leg cooking soup.
"A real man never lets anyone starve."
Sanji's eyes snapped open.
"…I'm not here to be strong."
The pressure screamed.
"…I'm here to stay."
He tried to stand.
Failed.
Tried again.
Failed.
Tried again.
His muscles burned.
His lungs screamed.
His mind begged him to stop.
"…I will not disappear again."
The pressure peaked.
The room felt like it was trying to erase him.
And something inside him…
Pushed back.
Not anger.
Not pride.
Refusal.
A quiet, absolute:
No.
The air shifted.
Not exploded.
Not shattered.
Yielded.
Sanji stood.
Shaking.
Sweating.
Bleeding from the nose.
But standing.
The pressure… was still there.
But now—
It was meeting resistance.
Ivankov's voice was quiet.
"…There."
Sanji's eyes widened.
"…I'm… pushing it?"
"You are existing on purpose," Ivankov said.
They did it again.
And again.
And again.
Sometimes for hours.
Sometimes until Sanji collapsed.
Sometimes until he vomited blood.
The rule was simple:
Do not let the pressure decide whether you exist.
Weeks passed.
One day, Ivankov brought an assassin into the room.
Sanji did not see him enter.
But—
He felt him.
Not as movement.
Not as sound.
As hostility.
As intent.
His body moved before thought.
The blade passed where his neck had been.
Sanji's eyes widened.
"…I didn't think…"
Ivankov smiled.
"That is Kenbunshoku when it stops being a technique."
Then Ivankov did something cruel.
He released his own presence.
The room collapsed under it.
Sanji dropped to one knee instantly.
Sweat poured off him.
His bones felt like they were bending.
"…Tch…!"
"This," Ivankov said, "is what true kings feel like."
Sanji's teeth shook.
"…I'm not… trying to be a king…"
"I know," Ivankov said. "Stand anyway."
Sanji screamed.
Not out loud.
Inside.
And stood.
That night, alone, he lay on the floor, barely breathing.
No cigarette.
No jokes.
No masks.
Just… will.
"…So this is the sea ahead…"
He closed his eyes.
"…Good."