Hello all! I had the thought the other day that there are very few stories that explain how the second division commander position became open before Ace had arrived on the Moby Dick. My creativity took over, and this was formed. It took forever though.
General disclaimer on my profile.
Thatch was not having a good day. Not at all.
He was supposed to be finding the group of Whitebeard fakers that were terrorizing a few islands in North Blue. They picked the wrong crew to mess with. No one actively provokes Oyaji, let alone pretends to be him. Apparently each of the commanders also had a doppelganger, and Thatch took personal offence to that. There was one hell of a beating headed their way, and Thatch was looking forward to it. There was only one problem.
The stupid imitators were nowhere to be found. No traces of them at any of the islands, no news of them in other towns, nothing - which made Thatch very frustrated.
He needed a way to get rid of some of the stress. Not the guilt - definitely not the guilt, he deserved that. The stress and frustration were eating at him, and beating the asses of a no-name rookie crew that thought they were good enough to challenge one of the big names of the oceans was the perfect way to take out some of his anger.
He'd been searching the North Blue for weeks, and the fact that he can't find even a rumor of his victims-to-be is just adding onto his frustration. So he decided to get more information, straight from the source.
When Thatch called Oyaji and explained the situation, he expected subtle anger and frustration, not laughter. He definitely did not expect for Marco to steal the snail and say, "If you can't find them, it's not a big deal. Just relax and take your time getting back." And the last thing he expected from them was for all of the commanders – even the normally vengeful ones like Fossa and Curiel who hated rookies that pulled stunts like these – to agree wholeheartedly. Apparently it was a day for the unexpected. Assholes.
Thatch sighed and went down to the cabin. It was a little cramped – the ship he was using was only about 40 feet, being built to house about three people with minimum space – but it sheltered him from the elements and gave him a little privacy. Not that he needed it on a solo mission.
He took out his map of the North Blue and his compass. He only had enough food left for a week, and needed to get to an island before he ran out. Currently he was on course for Pares, a small town that he could stock up on before heading back to the Red Line and Reverse Mountain. Thatch made sure that he was still headed in the right direction, and then got around to cooking something to eat for dinner.
Right as he put a pot of water on to boil, he heard shouting from on deck, and felt the ship tilt with the addition of new weight. 'Now what? It's one thing after another today.'
Thatch made sure his swords were at his side, and then climbed out of the cabin and on deck. He immediately saw a pirate ship that was much larger than his three-person sloop attached to his boat, and there were several unhygienic men standing on the bow. Sauntering up to them with a confident swagger, Thatch put on a smile fit for a predator and spoke.
"And here I was, looking for a way to take out my frustration. Hello, boys. How can I help you this fine day?"
The invading pirates looked a mixture of nervous, afraid, taken aback, and offended. Apparently they were not used to their victims smiling at them as they were raided; these idiots were in for a surprise. One of them managed to find some confidence and made the generic demand for everything on the ship. Thatch wasn't exactly listening to the specific words, but the message was the same every time it was given, so he knew what they wanted anyway.
"I'm going to be completely honest here, guys," he interrupted near the end of the threats and self-praise. "Today has not been the best day. I couldn't care less what you want, nor would I ever give it to you. I came all the way out here - to this pitifully weak sea - looking for pathetic impersonators to lay waste to, only to not find a trace of them. On top of that, my brothers have decided to be assholes today and won't help at all. I am frustrated. I am pissed. And yet, I am smiling." As he spoke, Thatch's eyes found each of the men on board his ship in turn, glaring at them, his gaze never wavering and a slightly sadistic smile on his face.
"You should be scared."
Immediately, Thatch leaped on the poor bastards who became victims one, two, and three of his wrath that day, his dual swords humming with speed as he wove a deadly dance that lasted all of two seconds around them. Usually he let his opponents attack first, so he could maybe add some new moves to his arsenal, but not today. Today was a slaughter day. He turned his sights onto the ship from whence they came, and jumped the 20 feet to its railing. He didn't bother speaking to this lot – he let loose on them, tearing long gashes into each and every one of them. His blades sparkled red and silver in the sunlight, and he quickly made his way throughout the entire ship, killing every pirate he came across.
The whole affair took roughly 6 minutes, 43 seconds. Not bad, since there were about 70 of them and he was definitely prolonging the "battle". He could have just destroyed the ship with one slice, but then he wouldn't have had the chance to get rid of some of that anger and frustration that was eating at him.
It actually worked, too, because as Thatch flicked the blood off of his swords, he felt lighter than he had since the incident with -
No. Don't think about that. Too much guilt. Focus.
Thatch started searching the ship for useful supplies and, hopefully, food. He hated when he was cutting so low on supplies. As he made his way to the kitchen, Thatch heard a low whimper. With a thread of Haki, he quickly found the source.
It was a kid. A twelve-year-old kid, who was hiding in a barrel buried in the back of a storage room.
A day for the unexpected, indeed.
Thatch may be a pirate, and he may slaughter any of the small-time rookies who annoy him, but he never hurts kids. Ever. He would even go out of his way to keep them from being harmed if there are any nearby while the Whitebeard Pirates do battle. When Thatch saw a twelve-year-old kid who looked as thin as a toothpick, he got angry. He wanted to resurrect the pirates he just killed so that he could do it all over again. No one should be starved like this kid was. Hell, he could see the outline of every rib through the thin shirt the brat was wearing.
The youth let out a small moan, which immediately set Thatch into his priorities. He quickly moved the various crates and boxes and barrels out of the way so he could reach the kid.
"Hey, brat, are you okay?" Thatch questioned, checking to see how responsive the child would be. He got a low mumble in reply – the kid was out of it, but at least he could recognize that he was being spoken to.
"I'm going to get you out of here. Hold on." Thatch carefully picked up the youth, carrying him bridal style and trying not to jostle him to much in case there were any injuries he couldn't see. He moved to the railing, and Thatch carefully lowered the boy into his own vessel before going down to join him. He carefully moved the kid into the cabin and laid him on the bed, making sure he wouldn't fall off, before going back up on deck.
Foregoing the possible supplies he could get from the ship, Thatch chose to get the kid as far away from the death-filled vessel as possible and directed his own sloop towards the distance. Once he was on course for a nearby island, he went back down to look over the youth and see if he was injured other than the obvious starvation.
After a brief yet thorough investigation, Thatch came up with two conclusions: the brat had no obvious or life-threatening injuries, and he probably had not eaten for weeks. For a well-built, crazy monster of an adult like Thatch, the effects of three weeks of starvation would hardly be noticeable other than the severe energy loss, but on a pubescent kid that was still in the process of gaining all of that muscle and tolerance he would have later in life, starvation was crazy dangerous. Good thing that Thatch was a chef – he had plenty of experience in treating starvation victims.
He turned to the stove and immediately prepared a simple, light broth – starting the kid off on solids would do more harm than good at this point. He managed to coax most of it into the half-conscious youth, along with a glass of water. Once he finished, he let the kid get some rest, choosing to wake him up in a few hours to get some more broth into him, and hopefully to get some information out of him.
The kid had obviously been a stowaway on the pirate ship. The crew hadn't known he was there, because if they had he would not have been under a stack of barrels – he would have been dead. Thatch's guess as to why the kid hadn't stolen food was because he didn't want to get caught, which begged more questions:
What was a twelve-year-old doing as a stowaway on a pirate ship? And why was he there for more than just a trip to the next island?
While pondering over this, Thatch realized he had a rather important issue to address. When he first encountered the pirate ship, he had roughly two weeks' worth of rations left before he was scraping the backs of the cupboards. That would have been fine – he was on course to reach an island within ten days. However, now there would be another person on board for the journey. He needed to split the rations between two people. That made it seven days' worth of food for two people.
A good part of this is the fact that the brat would be on broths for a few days, and maybe rice. That would extend the rations enough to get to the island. If Thatch needed to, he'd sacrifice a few meals. He refused to stop giving the kid the balanced and nutritious food necessary to recover from this. They'd be cutting it close, but they could make it, as long as nothing went wrong.
An uncomfortable moan and a crash brought Thatch out of his thoughts. The brat was awake, and trying to stand with little success.
"Oh, are you up now? That's good. I'll get you some more broth," Thatch said, moving to turn the stove on while watching the youth struggle to get back into the bunk. It was amusing how he wouldn't just let Thatch help him, but the distrust in his eyes and the kid's condition let Thatch know that there was a very valid reason for that. Eventually, lacking any energy whatsoever, the brat admitted defeat and let Thatch move him back into the bunk.
"Where am I? And who are you?" the kid questioned, still looking at Thatch like he was going to leap at him with one of the kitchen knives he could see at any second.
"It's rude to ask someone else's name before introducing yourself first, you know," Thatch replied with ease while heating up the broth.
"… Naoto."
"Hello there, Naoto. My name is Thatch. I found you on a pirate ship almost dead from starvation, so I nabbed you. We're on my boat right now." Thatch spoke jovially, keeping his tone light so as to not scare the kid. He didn't want to have to deal with that on top of all his other accumulating problems.
"You kidnapped me?" The brat's voice sounded incredulous for some reason.
"Well, it's not really a kidnapping. I'm not forcing you to stay here, and I don't want anything in exchange for your return." Thatch kept speaking as he filled a bowl with the now-warm broth and held it out for the kid. "It's more of a rescue where I strongly suggest you stay until you aren't in line for a wooden shirt. Are you going to take this?"
The brat – Naoto, Thatch had to remind himself, he has a name now – snapped out of his amazed and slightly weirded-out stare to take the bowl. He ate it slowly at first, until it finally registered how good it tasted; then he just set the spoon aside and drank the broth straight from the bowl.
"Go slowly, kid. There's plenty left," Thatch said with a laugh. He watched as the kid proceeded to gulp down the water provided as well, only at a more sedate pace. He waited until Naoto had finished and relaxed a bit, then asked his question as he took up the dishes and began to wash them.
"So, Naoto," he began, "why were you stowing away on a pirate ship?"
The brat froze. Oops.
Once the awkward silences and tense moments were over, Thatch offered to take the kid home. While Naoto accepted, he seemed rather reluctant about it. Thatch didn't put anything to it yet, not without more evidence.
They quickly found out that Naoto's home island was the same one Thatch was originally heading towards when he ran into the pirate ship. Once they had a destination set, Thatch went up on deck to correct the course – he had been drifting aimlessly for a while now and that was never a good thing.
While up on deck, Thatch noticed the sky was becoming clouded, and the air smelled like it was going to rain later. A storm was coming. As North Blue storms rarely compared to those of Paradise, let alone the New World, Thatch wasn't worried, but it was best to warn his passenger.
He went back into the cabin, and, upon noticing that the brat was sleeping, decided that he might as well get some sleep while he could - even a small storm took effort to navigate through properly.
Thatch woke up to water on his face, which wasn't a good sign as he was inside the boat. He was instantly alert, and quickly assessed the situation. It wasn't good.
There was an inch of water on the floor, which meant there was a place somewhere that the water was coming in through - he hoped they hadn't sprung a leak.
Looking outside, he could see that the storm was much worse than he had predicted. The sails were being tossed everywhere, and the steering wheel spinning aimlessly as the turbulent waves and currents tossed the ship about.
Naoto was knocked out, which would normally be a good thing as any kid sailing in a storm for the first time would be scared shitless, except it was a crate of supplies stored on a shelf that knocked him out, not his own loss of energy. There was an injury on the kid's head, and it was bleeding. Thatch needed to fix that fast.
Lastly, all the supplies that were necessary for sailing solo - kitchen knives, compass, food, clothes, buckets, oars, etc. - were being tossed around in the tiny cabin.
Okay, priorities. Leaks first.
Thatch figured out rather quickly that the water was coming in through the portholes he had left open in good weather - the waves were splashing in through them. He closed the portholes, and the door that led from the cabin to the deck. That's one problem taken care of.
Next was Naoto. The kid was bleeding all over the bunk he was laying on. Thatch grabbed the first aid kit, giving thanks that it was still dry, and set about bandaging up his passenger. It was a rough job, but it would work until the storm passed. Once he managed to get his head wrapped up in a way that would staunch the bleeding, he moved on to the next issue.
Thatch set about securing everything that was loose and dangerous or too important to lose. The oars got tied down, the navigation instruments stored away, knife racks put into cabinets, and all the medicine shelves and cabinets tied shut. The non-necessaries could stay in the water for now.
Thatch then set about saving as much of the food as possible. Everything that was dry was tied to something, everything that was okay with a little seawater salvaged. He could take inventory later.
After making the cabin as safe as possible and saving the important supplies, Thatch went back on deck to get a handle on the rigging. It was a long, long time before the storm passed and he had to fight it every second. Eventually, though, everything calmed down enough for Thatch to assess the true damage.
Most of the equipment he needed to run the ship was still in decent shape. The Den Den Mushi was dead - dried out from the salt in the seawater - and the compass was broken, but he could still navigate well enough using the sextant he had stored away. The food however…
Before, they barely had enough food to make it to the island before the storm. Now, however, Thatch had no idea where they were; he had to wait until there were clear skies to find out. On top of that, the water in the cabin washed almost all of the loose rice out to sea. Which was very bad, as most of their rations were rice. They now had enough food for two grown adults for two days, with normal meals. With one starving kid and one adult, maybe three. With the food rationed, maybe five. Probably not.
Thatch didn't know how long it would take to get to the nearest island, nor did he know when the next clear day would be so he could use his sextant to figure out their position. It was plain obvious - they didn't have enough food to last until the next island.
"Looks like I'll be going without meals from now on," Thatch sighed. He may have been unhappy about it, but that's because he made a rookie mistake: he underestimated the ocean. He would make sure the brat got all the food he needed. The fact that he didn't need to eat a lot yet meant that he could spread the food out longer for Naoto. Fortune knows the kid will need it.
"It's not as bad as it seems. Honestly." At least, that's what Thatch was telling Naoto.
"There's no food."
"There's enough food to make it there. I checked this morning when the skies cleared - we're only about two weeks away. Your island is still the closest one, it's just a lot farther out now."
Naoto was not impressed. Not at all. For a kid who didn't have many muscles or energy to move, he was incredibly expressive in body language.
"Hey, we'll be fine. Don't worry about it," Thatch tried to placate the suddenly cynical youth. He didn't think it was working, though.
Naoto sat up a little more and gave Thatch a glare. "From what I have observed, you originally had only enough food to last a week. Now you tell me that most of it is gone because someone slept through the first two hours of a storm and it got swept out by seawater. How is that, in any way, fine?"
Where did this suddenly come from? Before the storm hit, the brat was super timid and wary. All of a sudden, he's acting like Tyde did whenever Thatch had a major screw-up.
Shit. Don't think of him. Too much guilt.
"Are you always like this?" Thatch questioned the kid.
"Like what?"
"Stupidly paranoid until something happens, and then overly critical afterwards? I mean, I am the one who got you off that boat in the first place. And in my defense, you were sleeping as well."
"I'm so sorry that your stuff knocked me out when you weren't paying attention. You're right, I could have totally gotten over that in two minutes."
Wow. This kid is almost as bad as Marco. That's… kind of impressive. Thatch had a feeling that this would be a long trip.
They had been travelling for about four days now. Naoto hadn't run out of food yet - he was still eating small portions. Thatch was making them slightly smaller than they should have been, but he'd rather ration the brat's food as much as he could and keep him fed than have him starve later. Thatch himself had yet to feel the drain on his energy that going without food would bring, but he expected it to kick in by the end of the week.
While travelling in Hysteria, there wasn't much to do. As soon as Thatch set the sails, he just had to make sure they were going in the same direction a couple times every hour. Naturally, this resulted in the super social Whitebeard commander trying to strike up a conversation with Naoto.
Key word being trying.
The brat spoke, yes, but only to criticize Thatch when he was doing something that was obviously stupid. He didn't ask questions, he didn't speak about himself, and he did not want to make small talk. Every time Thatch asked him about his family, his home, or even the island he was from, the kid clammed up instantly. Thatch could tell the kid was hesitant about returning there, but eventually he stopped asking - it wasn't his place to pry.
Despite the lack of conversation, Thatch learned a lot about his charge. Naoto did not understand card games at all, but he enjoyed reading - specifically books about shipbuilding. Too bad Thatch hadn't watched any of his shipwright brothers in action - that would have been a great skill to have right now. Not to mention a conversation starter. This kid hated talking and loved silence.
Thatch hated the silence. Ever since the Incident, he used conversation as a way to distract himself from the memories of his brother. Now, when he can't strike up a conversation with the only other person on a boat, he is forced into his emotional mess of a mind. He wants to remember Tyde with his sarcasm and his stupid self-sacrificing habits and his morbid sense of humor, not as he was when Thatch last saw him. Not with that dead expression on his face.
Thatch froze as he found Tyde amongst the sudden panic. That was Tyde, but those weren't his eyes - they were too empty. And that wasn't his face - there was a look of betrayal on it, and it was aimed right at him. Those empty, hurt eyes were looking at him, and all Thatch could think was "He blames me. It's my -"
"Hey, have you had anything to eat?"
The question came out of nowhere, jerking Thatch out of his thoughts with a feeling of regret and relief. He turned around, looking at the only other person there. "What?"
"You've been making all of my meals, but I haven't seen you eat in a while, and there's not a lot of space here to hide," Naoto asked. "So, have you eaten?"
Still disoriented, it took Thatch a minute to understand that first, the kid was actually talking to him, and second, that he had figured out that he wasn't eating any of the food.
"Why do you want to know?" questioned the commander.
"Just answer."
Thatch paused, debating about what he should tell the recovering twelve-year-old and how he would react if he told the truth. Ah, screw it.
Meeting the skinny kid's eyes, the fourth division commander told him clearly, "I haven't eaten anything since the storm."
For a minute, all Naoto did was stare. Thatch didn't break eye contact, and neither did the kid. The silence was uncomfortable this time, and Thatch didn't know how the brat would react to this.
"Are you an idiot?"
"Excuse me?" Thatch was incredulous - of all the ways Naoto could have reacted, he did not put this down as one of them.
"Why, in the name of all things good in this world, would you think it okay to go without food?" Naoto's expression was a reprimanding one, which would have looked hilarious if not for his uncanny resemblance to Tyde at the moment.
Thatch quickly got over the feeling. He was gone, that was it. He had to deal with a skinny twelve-year-old who thought he could tell Thatch what to do right now.
"I don't see why you should complain. It's not like it affects you," Thatch responded airily.
"It does affect me, because I feel like I'm stealing all the food from you." Oh, the kid was serious about this. Thatch set his face into a stern expression - it wasn't Naoto's fault, no matter what he thought.
"First of all, stop that. Unless you are actively taking the remaining food from storage, you are not stealing the food. I am giving it to you for you to eat. Secondly, you have already been starved. I can still see your ribs, despite the meals that I have been giving you to recover. I am not about to let you suffer through that again as long as I can help it, and if that means I am going without food for two weeks, then so be it. You can take that attitude and stuff it."
Naoto was frozen with a stunned expression on his face. "Why would you do something like that for me? You barely know me!"
"So?"
"So?!" Oh, now Naoto was angry. Thatch had a feeling of déjà vu. This was getting creepy. "That's it, you're going to eat from now on."
"What makes you think you can tell me what to do on my own ship? I rescued you and now I'm helping you recover. If you can't take it upon yourself to be grateful, too bad. You don't have to like it." Thatch was not dealing with this attitude. This sacrifice-hating attitude that was so eerily familiar would not be tolerated, not if it meant that someone would starve under his care. "I am a chef, brat, and it is my job to keep those around me fed. I can deal with the energy loss a lot better than you can, and I'm the one who won't be in danger of dying if I go without food for another week and a half. So, stop complaining. If you don't like it, get off the ship."
Naoto glared at him. Thatch knew he wouldn't get off the ship - if the kid was attached enough to Thatch to rebuke him for this, then he wouldn't leave. Not to mention there was nowhere for him to actually go, water-locked as they were. Naoto knew this too, and from the look he was getting, he didn't like the situation. Not one bit. Ah, well, his opinion doesn't matter at all.
It was weird, though, how this kid reacted. It was just like him - just like Tyde.
The confrontation was an easy one, despite the overwhelming number of attackers. They needed two divisions just to make up for the numbers, but it wasn't so bad that they needed to call one of the other ships in for backup. How did they get enough people to outnumber the Moby Dick? They should have at least heard of these guys before - Oyaji liked to keep an eye on the competition.
Thatch and Tyde were leading their respective divisions - fourth and second - in battle, while Jozu and his men were on fishing duty and Marco's division kept the Moby Dick running. It wasn't a hard battle, just tedious - there were so many of them. Tyde was beside him, standing near the back - out of the fight, but ready to interfere if need be. Thatch's attention was caught by a volley of bullets headed their way. He immediately stepped in front of Tyde, who was busy with someone from his division and not paying attention. He blocked all of them except one, and it got him in the right arm. Not too bad of a wound, but enough to set Tyde on him one he saw the blood.
"Thatch, you idiot! There is absolutely no reason to take a bullet for me! NO, IT DOESN'T MATTER THAT I WASN'T PAYING ATTENTION! STOP BEING SO SELF-SACRIFICIAL, DAMMIT!"
Tyde always hated it when others became overly helpful. His reactions were hilarious, but there were a few times that the victims of Tyde's anger deserved it. He chuckled unconsciously at the good memory - it was a nice change from the grim ones that had been haunting him for the last few weeks.
"What?"
Thatch turned his attention to Naoto, who was still sulking. "What?"
"You were laughing at me."
"I was not. I was just… remembering."
Naoto suddenly took on a look of curiosity. "Remembering what?"
Thatch's eyes grew sad, as he answered, "My brother. You act just like he did."
"Ah." Naoto paused for a moment, obviously debating on whether it would be okay to continue. Thatch wouldn't mind talking to this kid about Tyde - there was something different about talking of your problems and troubles with a stranger rather than with your family. You tended to be more open about it, and the other person didn't coddle you.
Eventually Naoto asked his question. "What is he like?"
Thatch sighed. "He was sarcasm incarnate. Everything you say, he had some snarky comeback to. Still don't know how he came up with all of those." Thatch chuckled. "He was stubborn, too - never backed out of any kind of fight, whether by words or by swords. And he hated when others stepped in to save his sorry butt. Got pissed about it like you wouldn't - well, you probably could believe it. You're the same way."
Naoto was listening intently, but looked uncomfortable. "...Was?" he questioned. Thatch was aware that the kid already knew the answer, but he felt compelled to ask anyway. The guilt came flooding back, reminding Thatch of his role in his brother's death.
"...Yeah. He's gone now."
Something must have shown on his face, because Naoto went from nervous and sympathetic to rebuking once more.
"Stop that. It wasn't your fault." Was this kid psychic or something? Because there was no way he knew that was what he was thinking. Thatch had observed several actors, so he could hide his true emotions almost professionally. Wait, it doesn't matter. The kid is wrong.
"Yes, it is. It's my fault."
"Did you actively try to kill him, or purposefully assist the one who did?" Naoto was very stern-looking now. It was a different kind of stern from the earlier food argument, too - this one was scary.
"No, but -"
"Then it is not your fault. Not doing anything to help does not mean you caused it to happen. Unless you were the cause of his death, direct or indirect, you are not guilty of killing him. So stop thinking that way."
Thatch was astounded. He didn't think of it that way. It didn't take away the guilt - oh, not by a long shot - but it did lessen the burden. He couldn't help but think of how well Naoto would fit in on the Moby Dick.
"Kid, you're a lot like my brothers," Thatch smiled at the brat. He liked him.
"Are you a pirate?"
Well, shit.
They were two days out from Pares, where Naoto was from. The kid got more restless the closer they were to the island, but he wasn't offering a reason as to why and he wasn't asking to go somewhere else, so Thatch left it alone. Other than that, he'd opened up a lot more. Conversations were common, although Thatch suspected it may have had something to do with the lack of new reading material.
Thatch was feeling the energy loss now, and he could tell that he had lost some weight as well. Not a significant amount - his overly-athletic constitution was very good at conserving energy, so it wasn't a problem, and he would gain the weight back right away as soon as he got some food in him. Naoto was looking much better now that he'd had a steady intake of food. He was already back on normal meal portions, even if said portions were still slightly smaller than what they should be. The two had gotten along rather well ever since Thatch shared his story of Tyde with his passenger.
Now, though, Naoto finally asked the one question Thatch was hoping he wouldn't. He didn't want Naoto to get scared of him, not when they've almost reached their destination. Thatch couldn't lie, he was proud to be Oyaji's son. Damn these unpredictable situations.
"Yes. I'm a Whitebeard pirate. Fourth Division Commander Thatch, at your service," Thatch claimed with a smirk. He may have been calm on the outside, but on the inside he was dreading the kid's reaction.
"How big is your bounty?"
"Biggest in North Blue right now."
Naoto shied away a little bit, but didn't start freaking out. Good, it looked like he recognized the danger Thatch could be, but remembered all of those good things he did like rescue the brat and go without food so he could recover, so maybe he could get over the general idea that all pirates are evil.
The brat was silent for a while, but eventually asked, "Why did you become a pirate?"
Thatch thought a moment. It seemed like he wasn't going to scare the kid off as long as he didn't say anything about wanting to murder people. That was easy, he just had to tell the truth.
"I did it so I could be free. Right now, I am free. I don't have to listen to any of the rules around me. If I find them tolerable, I'll put up with them. If I find them obnoxious or idiotic, I'll ignore them. I am free, because I know that I alone am morally responsible for everything that I do, and no one can take that away from me - and it's the best feeling in the world."
Naoto was silent again, watching Thatch while contemplating his words. Thatch knew that it was probably different from what he expected, so he was content in his silence this time. He had Naoto's own words to ponder as well - the same ones he's been thinking over ever since the fateful day of the food argument. The brat said that Tyde's death wasn't his fault. Hearing his brothers say it was one thing - they were his brothers, that was how they were supposed to respond - but hearing it from a twelve-year-old that he barely knew was completely different. As Thatch thought it over, he came to one conclusion immediately.
This kid was a lot more mature for his age than most children.
Thatch felt an overwhelming sense of relief wash over him as he pulled up to the docks at Pares. It hadn't been a long journey compared to some of the others he had been on, but it seemed much more difficult because of the lack of food. Thatch felt exhausted, but he was still able to pull himself to his feet and get things done. He wasn't in bad enough shape to lose to anyone in this sea, either; he had beaten New World residents while feeling much worse. Still, being at a town meant that he could finally eat something and Naoto could get the nutrients he still lacked. Speaking of which…
Thatch glanced down at his passenger as they stepped off the boat, and noted the expression on Naoto's face. It was as if the kid was reluctant to step foot on land, but resolved to do it anyway. The conflicting emotions he showed made Thatch wary - something was wrong. Naoto did not want to be here at all. Before he could address it, however, the youth broke the silence.
"Thanks for rescuing me, and for feeding me… it means a lot. I guess I'll be going now." While he spoke, he didn't make eye contact at all, suddenly acting timid again. Thatch was curious about his behavior - he wouldn't say that Naoto had grown close to him, but he definitely was comfortable in his presence. There was no obvious reason for him to act like this. He moved to stop Naoto, but the kid ran off before he could. Oh, well. He could find him later. It was about time Thatch had something to eat.
Thatch easily found the street markets and the restaurants that surrounded them. He also easily devoured a normal sized meal. He would have loved to eat four or five helpings - he certainly felt like he could - but he also knew that his poor, depraved stomach couldn't handle that.
After eating, he immediately went to buy twice as much food as he knew he would need for the first leg of his journey home. I'm not taking any chances this time. He also bought a new Den Den Mushi to replace the one that had withered in the seawater and called Oyaji. That conversation consisted of a recounting of the events that occurred during the past two weeks and a lot of yelling from Marco, with a few concerned words from Oyaji. Thatch reassured them that he was alright and that he would be starting his journey back to the Moby Dick.
As soon as he hung up, Thatch paused, a feeling of trepidation settling in his chest. He listened for anything in his surroundings and flared his haki, trying to make sense of this sudden feeling. Something was wrong. Something was very wrong... and it had to do with Naoto. Immediately, Thatch left the shopping district and went to search for the kid in the residential area. Call it a hunch or haki or whatever, but Thatch had a sixth sense for trouble when it came to kids, and he knew for some reason that Naoto would not be by the shops.
He searched street after street, walking calmly but quickly. There was no need to panic yet. His observation haki reached out far enough to cover a good area, but close enough that he could focus on individual auras. He covered the area quickly, but couldn't find Naoto anywhere within the city limits. The whole time he was searching, that intuitive foreboding grew stronger, and Thatch knew that he had to get there fast.
After asking one or two people, he learned that there were a few houses in the fields for the farmers. Thatch immediately set out for them, and he was lucky because as he arrived at the first one he heard yelling - a voice he recognized crying out - and Thatch couldn't help but feel a little relief that he had found the brat. At the same time however, it worried him. Following the voices - one cruel, one hurt - Thatch found Naoto and another child behind the house. He stopped behind the corner, listening to figure out the situation first before doing anything.
SLAP!
"Aah!" Naoto's cry of pain made Thatch's teeth grind. No one should hurt a kid. He would have interfered there, but he wanted to know the situation before stealing a kid.
"I told you last time, you aren't allowed to run away. It's just you and me here, li'l bro, and Momma ain't around anymore to keep you in line."
"I'm sorry!"
"If you were sorry, you wouldn't keep doing it!" The other boy's voice was angry, aggressive, and unforgiving. Thatch knew he wasn't liking where this was going. If he hit Naoto one more time -
SLAP!
"Aaah!"
That was it. Thatch intervened immediately, stepping in between the two and catching the other boy's hand before it could make contact with Naoto's cheek again. The teen (as Thatch now noticed) froze at his sudden appearance. He hadn't seen Thatch approach at all, he was just suddenly there. Naoto was also frozen, but with recognition. Thatch looked back at him.
"You okay, brat?" Thatch questioned Naoto.
Naoto paused, glancing between the man who rescued him three times now and his older brother, whose wrist was still gripped tightly by the pirate. He looked like his nerves were strung up, but nodded anyway.
"Good," Thatch nodded back. He turned back to the teen, giving him one of the darkest glares he had. "You. You are going to let him leave with me. You will not tell anyone, and you will not come after us unless you want to be repaid all the pain you gave him in his entire life," Thatch commanded. The older boy nodded, his aggressiveness disappearing as Thatch spoke. The pirate gave him a cold smile.
"Good. Now, I'm going to let go, and you're going to go inside and stay there, yes?"
The teen nodded again. Satisfied that he was sufficiently cowed, Thatch let go and watched as the older boy rushed inside without looking back for Naoto at all. Thatch's anger rose that much more - who didn't care for their own family's safety?
Bringing his attention back to Naoto, Thatch picked him up off the ground and carried him piggy-back back towards town without saying a word. Oh, they would talk, but only after Thatch was sure he wouldn't destroy his surroundings in rage.
"Is he the reason you didn't want to come back?" Thatch asked.
They were in a small restaurant where they weren't too crowded by people but could still have the anonymity that came with large masses of patrons. Thatch had ordered Naoto some food, and they were silent for several minutes as Thatch let his temper cool down.
Naoto looked at Thatch with surprise, but didn't respond at all.
"Oh, come on. Whenever I asked you about home you changed the subject immediately. You always avoided saying why you were a stowaway too - it wasn't that hard to figure out. I may be an idiot for letting all the food wash away, but I can tell when someone is bothered by something." Thatch gave Naoto a look as he was talking, one of those I-know-a-lot-more-than-you-think looks.
Naoto sat in silence for a few moments before he spoke up.
"We never knew our Dad, and Momma was always really sick. My brother was the one to take care of her, because I was always too small. When I was eight, he started hurting me. Said I was useless since I couldn't help with anything other than cleaning and changing the cloth on her head. Said that he had to work so hard because I was such a useless little brother. He hit me whenever he got angry. I started to run away, because I didn't like how he was hitting me, but I always came back. He would hurt me a lot more whenever I came back." Naoto paused, letting his emotions settle a little before he continued.
"He makes me take care of Momma and the house by myself now, says that he already works so much that he can't do it. He doesn't work though, he just stays home and hits me when I don't clean everything or when I do something wrong. And then Momma died…" Naoto choked up a bit. Thatch could see that he was holding in tears now. His own emotions were thoroughly confused at this point, but he remained stoic on the outside until Naoto finished his tale.
"When you found me, that was my first time running off the island. I didn't… I don't want to be on the same piece of land as him. He'll still find me and hurt me. I thought that, since Momma wasn't here anymore, he wouldn't have a reason for making me stay, and I could finally get away for good."
"Why didn't you tell me this?" Thatch felt guilty, ashamed that he let this happen, but also disappointed that Naoto hadn't asked him for help with this, that he hadn't asked him to take him to a different island.
"It wasn't your problem, and I wasn't sure you would help. After all, you think that brothers are always there for you and that they protect you."
Thatch was floored. He was shocked. Did Naoto really think so low of him, after all this time? (In the back of his mind, he couldn't help but make another comparison - Tyde never let other people help with his problems. He didn't want to be a burden.)
"Kid, let me remind you of something," Thatch began. He was going to settle this issue right now, and he was going to be very upfront about it. "I went for two whole weeks without food to keep you from regressing in your own recovery from starvation. I fed you every day with the best food I could make from what we had, all the while refusing to take any of it for myself. If I am willing to starve to keep you alive and healthy, what makes you think I wouldn't take you where you wouldn't get hurt?"
Thatch gave Naoto a moment to let the words sink in. He noticed the emotions flash across the boy's face as he stared at his uneaten food - shame, guilt, relief, hope, gratefulness were all present at the same time within the youth. Thatch was definitely going to take Naoto to another island. He even had one picked out already; there was a nice barmaid there that he spent some time with right before he joined Whitebeard, a fair woman who was always looking for help around the bar. She would definitely be willing to take in Naoto, but Thatch needed the kid to ask first.
Turns out he didn't have to wait for long, because the next words he heard were "Can you take me away?"
Thatch smiled at Naoto with the biggest, most proud grin he had. "Sure thing, kiddo."
They pulled up to the docks a few days later. Thatch had informed Naoto of where to go and who to contact concerning a place to live, and also described to him what the village was like. It was a small town, with a very close-knit community that was very welcoming to outsiders - perfect for Naoto.
Naoto jumped off the boat and onto the dock, and turned back to Thatch when he didn't hear the pirate follow.
"You're not coming?" he asked.
"Nah, I've got more than enough provisions still to make it to the next island. It's about time I start getting home." Thatch smiled at Naoto. He felt extremely close to the twelve-year-old, and had grown protective of him.
"Oh, here," Thatch said, pulling out a folded piece of paper and a pouch from his pocket. He handed the pouch to Naoto, saying, "Here is some money so that you can get some decent clothes and anything else you might want. You should be okay for a month or two on that, and Mae will take care of the rest. And this," Thatch continued, handing the folded piece of paper to Naoto, "you need to give to Mae when you get to the bar. If you do, she'll take you in."
Naoto looked up from the two items to the grinning Whitebeard commander in front of him. Suddenly, he dropped the money and the note and ran forward, slamming into Thatch in a giant hug.
"Thanks. For everything," Naoto managed to get out. Was he - he was crying!
"Hey, hey, no need for the tears. You're a man. Man up," Thatch joked. Naoto looked up without breaking the hug and gave Thatch the first true smile he had seen on the brat since he first picked him up off of that pirate ship. Thatch couldn't help but hug back.
"Go live your life, kid. You're free now."
Naoto let go and retrieved his items. He grinned at Thatch and watched as the pirate cast off, waving until he couldn't see the boat anymore.
Thatch sighed. He was going to miss that kid. He was happy that he could help Naoto get away from his brother.
It wasn't right, for one brother to hurt another like that - family isn't supposed to bring pain or wounds, family brings protection and happiness.
...Right?
Naoto easily found the bar where Thatch said Mae would be working at - it was one of two in the village. He walked inside and asked for the barmaid, only to be told that she was the owner now. He was introduced to Mae, and then gave her the note from Thatch. She read it, and smiled.
"Let me show you where your room will be. I expect you to help out at the bar with serving and clearing tables, but you'll have plenty of time to do what you want as well."
Amazed that such a short note could make her so compliant, he followed. His room was nice - better than what he used to have.
Naoto spoke to Mae as she was leaving the room to go back to the bar downstairs.
"Excuse me, but what did that note say?"
"Oh, you didn't read it? Here," Mae said, handing the note to Naoto before walking out of the room.
Naoto looked at it and smiled, then set it down on the bed. Thanks, Thatch.
To whom it may concern:
This kid is my little brother. Take care of him for me.
~Fourth Division Commander Thatch
Beta-read by breather.
I'll post the next chapter as soon as the third is written... which will hopefully be soon. Until then, stay beautiful!
~Psych