Warm sunshine was filtering through light blue curtains slightly swaying in a gentle breeze and reflected off the golden strands of hair spread on silky covers. The light was dancing on the glossy fibers, giving the figure an ethereal glow akin to the halo of some celestial spirit.
The man lying on the bed was dead to the world, indifferent towards the tranquil scene.
Lithe limbs, usually tense with devotion to whatever it was the man was doing were unwinding and his face looked boyish, ten years younger than his actual twenty-four years in this much needed fragment of serenity.
Had it not been for the radio playing from somewhere in the apartment, who knows when Sanji would have woken up.
As it was, the faint beat of "Living Dead Girl" managed to worm its way into his sleep and with a groan and heavy blinking, he awoke.
The first thought that hit him was confusion. Why was it this bright outside at five in the morning?
Still half asleep, he blindly reached for his cellphone on his nightstand to turn off the alarm.
When he managed to find it and lit up the screen, a jolt of panic ran down his entire body and made him jump out of bed, nearly tumbling to the ground with his legs still tangled in the sheets.
"Shit!"
Why the fuck had his alarm not gone off?!
Cursing, Sanji threw his phone onto his bed and sprinted into the bathroom. Now painfully awake, he hurriedly squeezed some toothpaste on his toothbrush and angrily jammed it into his mouth.
A glance to the clock on the wall only confirmed that he had somehow managed to oversleep and was already twenty minutes late into his shift at the restaurant.
The old man was gonna be livid.
Opting to skip a full on shower Sanji hastily splashed some cold water in his face and rubbed it on a towel which was then carelessly discarded into the empty bathtub.
While the radio had seemingly changed to a breaking news cast, not listening he threw on his work clothes in record time and only stopped for a moment in front of the mirror to check his still sleep-tousled hair.
A growl of his stomach made him hesitate.
Tch.
There was no way he had time for a balanced breakfast this morning, no matter how high he valued proper nutrition. He was just gonna eat at the Baratie.
Not even bothering to go and get his cellphone, he just grabbed his wallet, keys and a half-empty pack of cigarettes from the coffee-table, selected a random jacket from the hanger and was out of the door.
Thankfully, just as he arrived at the bus stop panting the driver pulled up, interrupting his unlucky streak.
Settling into one of the many open seats, Sanji closed his eyes for a moment and took a deep breath. God, he was craving a cigarette.
As he took one out of its pack and proceeded to roll it between his lips unlit, he took a glimpse of the nearly vacant bus. It seemed odd to him that it was this empty at this time of day which still counted as rush hour. He shrugged it off as he normally would not be taking this bus anyways and so maybe it was always like this.
Now that he was on his way and could not go faster even if he wanted to, he relaxed a little and leaned his head on the cool window. With the adrenaline leaving his body, he started to feel the strain he had put on his muscles the first thing of the day and that was only the cherry on top of a week of double shifts in the kitchen, filling in for several employees that had fallen sick.
His body was screaming for some rest, so he probably should be grateful for the few extra hours of sleep he got in today, although involuntarily.
Sighing, he placed the chewed on cig behind his left ear and focused on the swirly patterns of the seat in front of him that had no resemblance to his eyebrows at all, thank you very much.
With a huff of annoyance he just closed his eyes for the rest of the ride and so Sanji missed the rather strange lack of people this morning on the streets of this normally bustling city.
When he exited the bus at his destination Sanji immediately lit the cancer stick and inhaled the much needed poison. It was only a small walk to the restaurant but there was no way he was going to face the shitstorm that was about to hit the fan without at least some nicotine in his bloodstream.
Unsurprisingly, his boss and adoptive father Zeff, the owner of the high-end establishment Baratie had not been too thrilled about his tardiness. After a very loud and colorful argument in which he threatened to revise Sanji's status as sous-chef "if he didn't get his goddamn act together" (and which cost him another twenty minutes), he was at his workstation, purposefully ignoring his snickering colleagues and chopping at carrots like they had personally insulted his late mother.
Muttering profanities under his breath, he let his mind wander, blending out the background noise of the busy kitchen, the ever present yelling of the cooks, the humming of the range hood and the sizzling of the various dishes in the pans.
Alright, maybe he had fucked up today, but it wasn't like him being late was a frequent occurrence.
In fact, the only thing of real importance in the cook's life was his job, next to his hobby of martial arts, and he saw to it that he was better at it than anybody else. The old fart could say what he wanted, Sanji knew that Zeff wasn't dumb enough to actually fire him, he was his best employee. It was Zeff who had taught him what he knew about cooking in the first place after all.
Setting the carrots aside which were now sliced into perfectly thin strips Sanji automatically reached for the zucchini to administer the same treatment to them. They were ingredients to one of the restaurant's best-sellers, a stir fry with rice-noodles, vegetables and seafood; one of Sanji's own creations. It was a fairly simple recipe, yet the popularity of the dish was unbroken and the lunch rush was sure to bring in more than a few orders of it.
Sanji smirked to himself as he went on to the champignons. Cooking always had this unique soothing effect on him, even compared to a cigarette. As stressed out as he had been when he entered the kitchen, now he was in his element.
Zeff could go fuck himself, this day was gonna be good.
Just as the blonde strengthened his resolve to not let anything or anyone disturb the peace of his mind any further, his attention snapped to the sound of something shattering on the tiled floor.
Sanji closed his eyes in exasperation. What the hell was it now?!
The dishwasher boy who had just started working at the Baratie a few days ago, a scrawny tanned kid with unruly black hair had dropped one of the dirty plates. That in itself was nothing new, the guy was about as useful in a kitchen as a grave robber in a crematorium but Zeff apparently had a weak spot for idiots and had given him a job anyways.
No, what was unusual was the way he was clutching at his stomach and the greenish color of his face.
Being the first to recognize the telltale signs, Sanji paled.
"Oh hell no, you won't vomit in this kitchen if I can help it!" he barked, took the guy by the collar of his shirt rather roughly and hurled him out through the back entrance of the kitchen into a narrow alley.
It was a very close call, but he made it.
Wrinkling his nose, he ran a hand through his hair and watched the retching boy. This would be the fifth member of the staff he had to send home this week.
He fished out his pack and decided he deserved a little smoke break.
"Oi, are you alright? You're not dying are ya?"
The normally cheerful and energetic youth was leaning his weight onto his knees and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.
"I feel weird. I ate all of those leftovers from yesterday and I'm still hungry." he frowned.
Sanji was pretty sure the kitchen had been clean of any leftovers the evening before as his meticulous nature wouldn't allow anything but spotless counters and no food wasted.
In case they ever had some food left over, it would be given to the employees to take home with them. That rarely happened though, every plate usually came back sparkling clean and the customers always left with a full belly.
"Where exactly did you find those leftovers?" he asked skeptically.
Grinning, the raven head pointed over his shoulder with his thumb, in the direction of the two large trashcans they used for the kitchen waste.
"There is always so much good stuff here!"
…Was this guy for real?
Pausing with the lit cigarette midway to his mouth, the blonde hoped that his suspicion would not be confirmed.
"You mean to tell me you raided the garbage for edibles?"
Sanji's stomach dropped when he saw the boy nodding enthusiastically.
There he was, priding himself with the fact that he never let anybody go hungry and he had not noticed that his own employee was seemingly forced to scavenge trashcans for enough food and obviously caught some kind of food poisoning eating the rotting waste. He suddenly felt sick himself.
"Listen, you need to go to a doctor and have yourself checked out. And please, if you are ever hungry again, tell me. I'll give you something better to eat than those leftovers."
Scrambling for his phone to exchange contact information, he remembered leaving the damn thing on his bed in his crazed attempt at being punctual. Fucking great.
"I'd give you my number, but I left my phone at home. Well, I'm here every day anyways and I am the one to close up in the evening, so if you're ever hungry after hours, just stop by the kitchen."
The boy's face lit up at his words and he almost looked as if he hadn't just thrown up all over himself.
"You mean it?! That's so awesome! I guess I'll go to some doctor then, if you'll feed me in return."
Seeing the boy so happy at the prospect of proper food made his heart clench. Who knows on what he had lived up until now?
Seemingly oblivious to the blonde's inner turmoil, he strutted away, although still slightly wobbly, before Sanji could say anything more.
Stubbing out the untouched cig on the sole of his shoe and putting it in the back pocket of his pants with the rest of the pack, he heatedly made his way back into the kitchen.
"Shitty old man! Did you know that this kid has been living on fucking garbage?! How the fuck can it be that one of our staff have to go home hungry?! I made sure to tell him that we'll feed him as much proper food as he wants from now on, but still-"
"YA DID WHAT?! YA JUST SOLD YOUR SOUL TO THE DEVIL, EGGPLANT! THAT KID'S A GODDAMN BOTTOMLESS PIT OF A STOMACH!"
Confused and wide-eyed, Sanji was too stunned by Zeff's outburst to respond immediately. His father was as adamant about feeding the hungry as he was, if not more.
Heaving a sigh, Zeff briskly ordered one of the other chefs to take over the pan he was holding and then kicked Sanji in the shin with his peg leg.
"Ow, what the fuck was that for? And what do you mean, "bottomless pit"?"
Irritated, Sanji clasped his throbbing leg. That old bastard still knew how to land a kick.
Zeff grunted and folded his arms over his chest, looking down at his son.
"Ya know Garp, that police officer I used to go to college with? The kid's his grandson, some good fer nothin' idiot boy I gave a job because he asked me to. Everywhere he's been, the bum caused more trouble than anythin', so he sent 'im here. Anyways, I meant just what I said. Once the kid starts eatin' he doesn't stop and he doesn't even care what it is he eats. It's impossible to get 'im satisfied and you stupid lil' eggplant just dug your own grave."
He blew out air through his nose and his enormous braided moustache was shaking menacingly.
"Accusin' me of lettin' my staff go hungry, ya have some nerve."
With a somewhat softer expression, he continued.
"I've never seen 'im get sick before though."
With a slight flush to his cheeks, Sanji rose to look at his father.
"How the fuck was I supposed to know you hired an abysmal appetite as a dishwasher, old fart?!"
The older chef just snorted at the flustered blonde.
When Sanji was about to turn around to return to his workstation, his stomach let him know with a loud rumbling noise that he had not even yet had breakfast himself.
"When you're done throwin' a tantrum eat the sandwich I made ya."
His ears were reddening as he picked up the lavishly filled wholegrain bread, but he could still hear his father grumbling under his breath.
"Stupid lil' eggplant, always worryin' about everybody but 'imself."
The day proved to be fairly slow, with several of their reservations not showing up. Due to the lack of staff at the moment, work in the kitchen was taxing nevertheless.
Patrons not appearing in time for their reservation without notifying the restaurant in advance was always a source of stress and anger for everyone as all of the planning for the day was jumbled so the tension in the kitchen air was palpable.
Having downgraded one of the cooks to operate the dishwasher instead of the sick boy, Sanji was jumping from stove to stove in order to secure the high quality standard of the dishes leaving the kitchen.
Insults were exchanged almost consistently and the high volume was grinding on the blonde chef's nerves.
When it was time for the first shift of waiters to end and the second to take over, Sanji was forced to wait the tables himself when some of them didn't show up. He was not even surprised to be honest.
The clientele of the Baratie was normally never shy to praise the culinary arts of the chefs, so Sanji was astounded and perturbed to notice more than a few unsatisfied faces and even get some complaints. Never before had the food leaving this kitchen been described as bland and tasteless.
The weirdest thing was that when he tasted it himself, it was delicious.
In the few short breaks he was forced to take over the next couple hours he went through the rest of his cigarette pack, stomping the empty carton on the ground before kicking it into the now dimly lit back alley. This had been his last few and that meant he had to go get more when he would be getting off work at, let's see, fucking 2 am.
He just wished this awful day to be over already.
Fantasizing about a long hot bubble bath, the exhausted blonde stepped back inside the kitchen with a deep sigh.
By the time the last costumer had left Sanji was about ready to pass out. He always made it his priority though that all of their employees left before him, given his responsibilities as sous-chef.
When the chairs had all been stacked on the round tables, he sent the two male waiters home that were still left. Of course their lovely female colleague had been allowed to leave an hour ago, Sanji would never allow for any lady to do that kind of manual labor if he could help it.
Checking the dining area one last time, he ventured into the kitchen.
The cook always made sure to control if all of the workspaces were clean, the cold storage was locked and stocked and the trash bins emptied after everyone was gone.
When he bent down under the stainless steel counter to look, he did indeed find one of the trashcans to still be full. He swiftly freed the bag and carried it out into the cool night air. It wasn't quite fall yet, but still his breath came out in tiny white puffs.
When he turned around from the dumpsters and wiped his hands on his pants, he jumped.
A dark figure was standing behind him in the pathway, not yet illuminated by the single light near the door to the kitchen.
But when the figure started moving towards him Sanji recognized the slim frame and worn-out sandals of the boy he had sent home this morning and completely forgotten about until now.
"Are you here to cash in on that promise I made about some delicious food?" Sanji grinned.
The boy didn't answer, his face was obscured by his mop of black hair and the hood of a torn sweater, so Sanji couldn't read his expression.
The blonde's grin faded, the kid was probably embarrassed to have to rely on him in this situation.
"I'm sorry, just come in, I'll make you something right away."
When he moved to enter the kitchen again the other one started to follow him, but stumbled and nearly tripped when he had to climb the single step at the door. Turning reflexively, Sanji managed to grab his arm and stop him from falling.
"Woah there, careful! Are you still feeling ill?"
When he didn't answer again, it confirmed Sanji's suspicion.
"I guess I'll make some soup then, you should be able to keep it down and it will strengthen you just right. Wait just a second, I'll be right back."
Planning on a simple vegetable soup, he picked some potatoes, celery and carrots from the metal shelf inside of the cold storage room.
Trying to decide on some other ingredients that would be beneficial to the sick kid, the creak of the heavy steel door he had left slightly ajar behind him surprised the chef.
The vegetables got mushed and rolled out of sight under the shelfs when Sanji's arms went slack suddenly, but he didn't notice.
There, under the threshold stood the boy, excruciatingly visible under the harsh electric lighting of the storage room. His head was lolled back, leaving his face on full display.
The eyes that had been of a sparkling chocolate brown earlier that day had turned a milky white, staring blindly ahead of him. His face was of a ghoulish color, blue veins stood out from it drastically and from the slender nose ran a single droplet of deep crimson blood.