I.

People are born with their own little atmospheres-- with their own rain, sunshine, winds, thunder. There are those who can see other's weather, those was can sense them, those who cant see but can sense, those who can do neither, and then there are a select few who do not experience any such thing at all. They do not have their own rain or sunshine, they are just abnormal beings in a world where the Bizarre is the Normal.

Much like feelings, these 'weather' conditions rise and ebb in tandem with emotions and circumstances. Most eminent psychologists, therapists and psychiatrists can see them and diagnose their patients accordingly. There are those who have a greater affinity for sunshine, and those who have a greater affinity for rain. Also, the weather does not appear the same to all those who can see. For someone, a person's sunshine may hardly be noticeable, while for someone else, that sunshine may be the brightest.

A few others require a trigger to be able to emsee/em. Like a life-changing event or meeting someone special.

In any case, the categories are by no means exclusive, and it's the norm to find them overlapping. A person who experiences may also sense, and those who do not experience may be able to see.

II.

Vinsmoke Sanji spent the first eight years of his life living a tortured, battered, loveless existence, with the ability to see weather, but not experience it. It was only when Zeff came into his life that he finally found the trigger which set off his Mind's Eye. Over the years he met many people, made many friends and some enemies too, all of whom affected him to various degrees, but only Zeff could stop the Rain. The Rain that poured over him Everytime something went wróng, no matter how small that thing was, or he found himself in a situation that had no escape, or he was wracked by the memories of his childhood. All Zeff needed to do was make his presence known, and the Rain would stop, as if by magic. Zeff himself didn't emexperience/em it, but he could emsense/em, and even though he'd kick Sanji before admitting it to him, but he'd be there in a heartbeat for Sanji.

However, for the first time in his twenty eight years of existence, Sanji's faced a situation, where seeing Zeff didn't stop the downpour; seeing him only made it worse. As he stood by the bedside in the hospital room, soaked from head to toe, looking down on Zeff's pale face and inert figure, something cracked inside him. Pipes and tubes and machines formed a spider web around him, with Zeff as the prey. His past, like a relentless parasite, refused to let go of him, and had now spread its tentacles to grasp his most cherished person firmly.

Again that familiar, helpless anger bubbled in his chest. At Zeff and his stubborn ways, and at his own weakness. The heavens had finally taken pity on him and granted him one single person who truly cared for him, and not only was he unable to protect him, he was also too weak to retaliate. His hands balled themselves into fists, his entire frame trembling with rage. If only he'd been at the Baratie at that time. If only he hadn't been chasing Pudding. If only-

"He's out of danger." Law's smooth voice floated towards him. "But it'll be some time before he's conscious."

Sanji's fists loosened, his shoulders sagged.

"Is that-" his voice cracked. He pinched the bridge of his nose, fighting back tears.

"There's nothing more you can do here. Go home and leave it to me. I'll stay."

Sanji turned to look at Law, then back to Zeff, and then back again at Law.

"Yeah."

III.

The night air of the park stung his lungs, much more than the acrid smoke of his cigarette. He leaned back and let the Rain beat down on his face, his neck, his hands, his arms, the drops feeling like icicles piercing through his skin. He could see the stars twinkling, but they seemed so far away, too far away. As if he didn't belong to the same universe as them, just like he hadn't belonged anywhere till Zeff took him in.

The cigarette continued to burn in the rain.

IV.

The sun was high up, hot enough to make people ditch the beach and huddle in air conditioned cafes and ice cream parlours. Sanji, for his part, had been on his feet since the time he swung open the doors for Mr. Adonis in the morning, and had just got off the call from Inspector Smoker, who said he'd send someone to gather the info and interview the employees. Since Last Martiniere and Baratie worked on alternate shifts, he still had five more hours to decide whether he'd turn La Martiniere into Baratie-Lite or keep the cafe running like before and cease operations for Baratie altogether, till it was completely renovated. Franky had stopped by to assess the damage, and told him that even in the best case scenario it'd be at least three weeks before the Baratie was up and running. Sanji's couldn't let the raw materials go to waste. In which case La Martiniere had to step up. But that again would require modifications to accommodate more people, besides other changes like adding a brand new cold storage and refrigeration unit, which had gone completely bust in the fire. He'd have to talk to Franky about that.

His brain was working furiously, making mental notes of everything, and so were his hands. The Baratie opened at 4 pm, it was 11 am currently and people were pouring in for brunch.

Sanji was thankful for the rush. It kept his mind off other things, like Law's phone call which said Zeff hadn't regained consciousness.

"Four orders of Egg's Benedict and three of Mashed potatoes, Chef!"

"Coming right up!"

V.

"Why me?"

Dracule Mihawk looked up from the newspaper to see Zoro standing across the room.

"Because I asked you to." He answered, disappearing behind the newspaper again.

"Not that." Zoro said. "Why send me, when Perona would have been better, given the nature of the subject?"

"Fool." Mihawk folded the newspaper and nearly set it down on the ebony coffee table, picking up his wine glass and swirling the wine, before taking a small sip. Zoro waited.

"That is precisely why I sent you. And also, because it is too high-profile to be left to anyone else."

Zoro said nothing. Mihawk stared back.

"Strange for you to feel uncomfortable, given the harmless nature of the mission. Or is it because it is harmless that you feel uncomfortable?" Mihawk smiled, if it could be called that.

"I do not work for Judge." Came the stiff reply.

"A petty thing to be vexed by."

"Then why can't I report directly to you, like always?"

The air in the room suddenly turned parched, though Mihawk's tone remained unchanged.

"Because the client had asked for direct reports from you, and I agreed to the contract." The emphasis was on 'I'.

Zoro said nothing for a few seconds, meeting Mihawk's gaze steadily.

"Very well then." Finally, he relented, without lowering his gaze.