Chapter Two: You Should.

Warnings: Injuries, talk of and hints of starvation, starving child, unedited

Guest & JarOfIdeas: Sorry for that! And yes, I plan to make this a multi chapter fic, I even have an idea for a sequel. But my updates will be very unpredictable. I have many chapters planned and I don't necessary write them in order, so some chapters will be updated faster than the previous ones.

The sky shimmered in colors of blue and red, dancing around each other in a game similar to tag - the sun was setting, the night nearing. The fourth division commander rolled over on his left side so he didn't have to watch the darkness detain the beautiful colors of the sky. It was never fun watching the sky, or anything really, to be consumed into the lack of light. Funny how life tends to do that, Thatch mused, how life has a vicious cycle of beauty morphing into nightmares, and then nightmares changing into beauty. Nightmares weren't beautiful was something Thatch decided long ago; when the first sign appeared Thatch realized that the dimming down process was indeed a nightmare straight from the gates of hell, the first sign being the temporary lack of sight - lack of everything but dim, dim dark.

The next sign was the ability to feel darkness. With just the right breath and his eyes just in the right line of sight, Thatch could feel it. He knew that this concept was a sort of emotion, someone's history, and someone's feelings on life all mixed up in one: in darkness. Without telling anyone of this sign the Young Lion went about of his duties as a commander normally but the itching of knowing who it was, who's darkness this was, overcame his senses through a short period of time. At the other end was always someone in need.

On the Moby Dick for Thatch was a sensory overload. Everyone had a secret depression they only shared with their inner demons, even Pops. Even Marco. He could feel the painful emotions of them, sometimes getting random flashbacks of what their darkness's origin, sometimes just getting that feeling if the person wanted to die or not. Of course Thatch had used this new found power to his unawakened devil fruit to his advantage, preventing his siblings from throwing themselves overboard and ending their lives and making sure that those in need had a good laugh. His pranks had gotten more extreme and yet more considerate leaving his family in wonder. The playful commander never stopped trying to lift the darknesses from his siblings and those who had passed by him; he knew what would happen if he didn't. But he doesn't like talking about that particular recent event; Thatch just sticks the knowledge of failure is not an option, especially the mission his heart had told him to do now.

His heart was young and inexperienced to the horrors many people in this world had suffered. It wasn't like the Young Lion didn't know people suffer and go through terrible things in their lives, but honestly Thatch hasn't been through them. He can empathize, sympathize, but he never experienced it first hand. Staring at the wooden railing on the boat he was currently on, Thatch smiled - he enjoyed this gift, this blessing. Ordinarily he wasn't as observant as his siblings, and by always being around Haruta or Izo he felt like he was way less observant than ever; those two have ears and eyes that pierce a person into surrendering information. But even though his heart was inexperienced and he wasn't as observant or as all knowing as the people he surrounds himself with, he can still know. He can still know when someone is sad and in pain thanks to his devil fruit that was awakening.

This mission he was on, a mission from his heart, told him that whoever this person was was extremely important and on the brink of suicide. The darkness Thatch can feel coming off of this person is darker than anything he had witnessed seeing, darker than what he could imagine. It was horrible, so horrible, and Thatch just wanted to take this person and show the wonders of the world, show how happy and accepted they could be. Bring them to Pops because Pops will know what to do. If they didn't want that then maybe bring the person to a place where he or she would be happier, or do something - he had to do something. Whatever he decides to do, Thatch will definitely give this person a well deserved hug. Nobody should suffer through what that poor creature has suffered.

Water flung itself in the boat as a large wave hit the boat. Thatch jumped up in shock. Before he could have a look at the storm upon him his foot slid to the side, forcing his tall body to slam on the railing. Blood rolled down as his eyes shut - he was knocked out. While his unconscious body laid halfway on the boat and halfway on the outside another wave came rushing towards him. The clouds above had mercy on him, however, when lightning crashed with the wave separating it into many smaller, weaker waves. Another stroke of lightning hit the water just feet away from the boat and where Thatch was unknowingly hanging onto for the security of his continued life - resulting in the tear of the ship and splintering wood. The cracking wood was then pushed more upwards from the force of another wave. Boat now just rubbles of what could've been but wasn't, Thatch fell into the sea with a stray piece of wood piercing his unconscious body, sinking into the darkness.

It was always in the darkness.

0o0

Thatch looked around and noticed nothing but warmth. There was nothing, Thatch questioned, so why would it be warm? Maybe he was having a dream about cooking something, or something that made him feel warm. He couldn't remember why he was asleep or how he had gotten to this point, but he wouldn't let that get him down. No, not at all. Instead his curiosity took control of his feet, moving him this way and that way.

Something felt wrong. Not knowing what was wrong, the commander burrowed his eyebrows as his eyes shined: it was a test. Or something like that. Just another sign, then. Just another sign. His eyes stared intently at the darkness in search of an answer. All too soon he gets one; an alarming scream echoes through the place, wherever it was, an a nearing figure was seen in the distance. The closer he got the closer it resembled a person, maybe a fish person. All in all, it didn't matter which species they were. Many figures and many more screams were heard along with more nearing bodies. The bodies were outlines, never detailed. Inside of the outline of the person was orange light, just orange light.

The darkness around rolled off a laugh and like an infection the darkness seeped into the light of others. It was slow, slow as if the people were water inside a cup and the darkness was food coloring dripping into the water. Bearing it's roots inside each person and each scream, the people became one with the darkness. Their laughter which were screams only seconds ago filled the place with a type of insanity that didn't feel right with Thatch.

"Yes," thousands of voices said in almost harmony. "This is insanity."

Thatch connected the dots. Darkness. Insanity. His nearing death involved both of them. His devil fruit was reckoning, was awaking into it's full potential. Then, in years, days, maybe even seconds after he fully awakened his devil fruit, he would die. That was the conditions of the curse, of the gift. Without knowing the knowledge of when one will die but knowing in full detail of how one would die, the curse would mock the death by giving the cursed ones the power of their death.

The laughter was infectious with ill intent, but Thatch couldn't stop himself even if he had the power to stop. It was funny, he thought deep in his mind, in the back of his mind. It was so funny because this was nothing what Thatch was or stood for, but here he is being given the power of ultimate destruction. He couldn't throw it away or give it away no matter how much he wished or wanted: he was stuck with it.

Upon closer look at the laughing madness of the dark, Thatch noticed that it wasn't any ordinary darkness. It was fire, black sullied fire. He could feel how badly the darkness wanted to destroy and hurt others - it only made him laugh harder at this beautiful piece of satire. Within seconds the black fire consumed him in a bite. To others he wondered if he looked like a ball of light to infect. Or maybe he was already dark even though he had no reason to be; maybe he always was filled with these emotions deep inside where nobody ever looks - not even himself.

"You are the next victim," the black flame choked out. "But you are not ready. You're not ready to tame me. But when you touch the light, our prince, you will be. We will be waiting until that day comes. We all will."

Thatch's eyes opened and he sucked in air as if he were breathing for the first time in his life. His breath was forced and it felt like the darkness poured itself on him. The itching feeling of knowing that there were people near him with darkness - not the person he was searching for, though - that needed him. Or maybe he needed them, he wondered disgustingly. Maybe he was just attracted to darkness.

The fourth division commander knew he needed to ground himself to reality if he wanted to truly wake up and do what he needed to do. Focusing on his sense of smell, he sat there blankly for a few moments. Then the familiar ocean's smell came rushing into his nose. The next sense was taste, and the taste of dust and iron came quickly. Ears - ears were next. His ears heard the waves of the ocean hitting up what seemed like a boat in gentle caresses. Thatch, calming down tremendously, finally glanced around the room he was in and was able to actually make sense of it. He was in a medium sized room that had a bed and a desk and a door. Looking down he saw that he was shirtless but his torso and shoulders were covered in an bandaged shirt. The last sense hit him hard and rough; pain, as if a needle, stabbed in every nerve he could have, and then some.

This wouldn't work. Swinging his feet off of the bed, Thatch winced at the pain. It hurt moving. But the darkness he feels right now from the people outside of this room had to be his number one priority right now, and then leaving to go find that person. He had to find that person, had to find him soon. Ignoring the pain he stood up and then walked to the door. Masking his agony he put on a smile as if he had completely forgotten the stabbing pain in his torso. As soon as he opened the door the scent of hundreds of spices bombarded his nose.

"Well this sure is getting more interesting," The Young Lion muttered to himself as he pushed himself closer to the scent that smelled so much like his home's kitchen. A small feeling of regret surged through his mind as he remembered all of what he had left behind in order to find someone he didn't know.

The kitchen was filled with hundreds of busy chefs with their own kitchen gear. It looked like each type of meal was separated into its own department. Each chef only cooked one thing over and over as waiters rushed in and out organizing the meals to serve the customers. Everyone here was in uniform which made Thatch believe that this was a restaurant. A restaurant on the sea - huh, that seemed oddly familiar.

"Hey, you slacker!" A macho man yelled at Thatch without really looking at him. "Get on the uniform on and get back to your station!" The man threw Thatch the uniform shirt.

Thatch shrugged his shoulders, inwardly wincing. This was getting interesting. He caught the shirt and then put it on quickly. Rushing over to the sink to wash his hands, he then headed out to the nearest empty spot. Up above him was a string that held a small paper that said "Raspberry Cake" and with context clues the fourth division commander had concluded he ended up in the raspberry cake section. Rolling up his sleeves he began the work, blanking from all thoughts and unnecessary movements besides the work before him.

After every finished cake he caught out of the corner of his eye a thin boy watching him intently with a watered mouth. As the boy continued to watch Thatch made slight adjustments in his movements so the boy could see better. Before he knew it, the boy was as close as Thatch was to the material. The kid accidentally bumped Thatch sending Thatch into a frenzy - this was the kid that had the darkness in this restaurant, not the one he was originally looking for but the touch had told Thatch all what he needed to know.

This kid will always be hungry. He will be hungry until the day he dies, even if he stomach is full. Understanding eyes looked at the kid as the blond boy glanced up in an apologetic manner.

"I'm so - "

"Sorry, didn't mean to bump into you kiddo." Thatch laughed softly, moving over so the boy could have a place at the cooking area. The boy, noticing Thatch's invitation, widened his eyes in a mixture of awe and fear - for what he feared was what Thatch could only guess, only assume. "So do you know how to cook buddy?"

Even though Thatch showed no hint of disgust or ridicule, the boy could not help himself shrink under the words and soft smile the older man gave. Though feeling rather small - Thatch thought he looked like a small animal cowering away in a corner, trying not to notice that there were predators out there - the boy was taught to reply when others asked him a question. Shaking his head as an indicator for 'no', the boy hesitantly continued the seemingly innocent conversation.

"I- is that a problem?" Although his words came out harsher than intended, the older man merely shrugged his shoulders.

"We all start out somewhere. And starting out with sweets are the best! Here, come help me with this. First, you need to get the flour out like this… yes, amazing job," Thatch said as gently as he could in hopes not to frighten the small child. He instructed the boy with ease and having years of experience of training new cooks only made it easier. When he noticed the child drooling over the sweet scent the cake they were making Thatch pondered what he could do to help. The child looked up at him with big doe eyes, trying his hardest not to take some of the unfinished product to his mouth.

"You hungry?" Thatch asked absently, getting another off topic conversation going.

"N- no!" The boy gasped, wiping the drool off of the corner of his mouth, clearly ready to yell any defense he could.

"Ah, I see." Thatch continued to direct the boy into the next steps of the cooking process, humming. "I think I am getting hungry. Especially after putting this baby in the oven," He lightly smacked the oven. When the blond kid gave him an exasperated glare, Thatch quickly clarified his mistake. "All my food I create are my babies - er, it's a metaphor, you see. Whoever ends up having my baby, and hey, there's no sexual innuendo here, okay? But whoever ends up with it should feel amazed. Not because I made it, though I do take pride in my food, but more because it pleases them. I want to please them with my cooking, you see? It makes me happy to see them pleased with my food."

The boy gave him a questioning stare but when the timer ringing Thatch quickly took it out of the oven. He instructed the blond to add whatever frosting and decorations were requested, amazed of the natural skill that was shown considering that the kid seemed like he had never baked before. Thatch praised the blond to which he blushed feverously and kicked the fourth division commander in the shin. If it hurt, Thatch didn't say anything about it.

"Come with me for a second, kid," Thatch whispered as their baked good was taken away by a waiter. Without question, the boy followed. All there was in reply was a soft name spoken, 'Sanji.' Thatch grinned wildly, applying the name to the kid.

"See, look Sanji. That's our baby," Sanji kicked the older male again in the shin, blushing at the word 'baby'. But nonetheless, he looked. What he saw was a young girl, probably a few years older than himself, bringing a fork up to their creation - he was never going to use the term 'baby' because who the hell does that? She smiled as soon as the fork entered her mouth.

"She looks… Happy." Sanji commented.

"Doesn't it make you feel accomplished?" Thatch asked proudly.

"It actually sort of does."

Thatch hummed in agreement as he grabbed the boy's arm, dragging him back into the kitchen. Glancing around, he sighed. "Sanji? I'm still hungry."

"W-w-well we all have to wait until it's our lunch break!" He nearly yelled, afraid of the word 'hungry'. Thatch could feel the kid's darkness shudder at the mere mention of it.

"That doesn't mean anything." When Sanji gave him a cold glare, Thatch continued on talking in hope of the kid to agree whatever he was thinking. "You don't have to eat to quell hunger." Sanji's darkness flickered at the thought, face morphing into something akin to terror. "What I mean is, hey, just stop looking at me like that and let me explain okay? What I mean is how about you - we - occupy our mouths to make us feel better about waiting for lunch." Before Sanji could spit out what Thatch knew he was going to say in protest, Thatch spoke quicker. "Like gum!"

Sanji paused in his tracks, shocked. Then wonder crossed through his eyes, head tilting. Thatch held back an urge to pat his head and tell him he was a good kid, knowing all too well that his shin would probably break if he got another one of those damn kicks. Those actually hurt!

"Gum?"

"Yeah, know where any are?"

It didn't take long for the two cooks to get into a routine where one would direct and the other would do, Thatch making sure to take turns to make sure that Sanji was learning. The taste in the gum didn't last long, but to his amusement Sanji had commented he liked the gum better when bitter. His drooling and ogling the food became less and less allowing Thatch to believe that Sanji was ready to learn other dishes that had more aroma. After sneaking off to another station - both him and Sanji giggling at the fact that they were being sneaky - Thatch soon realized his assumption was indeed correct.

"You really are a natural," Thatch commented, stretching out his limbs. "I wish I was a natural when first learning how to cook. Would have made the entire thing more appealing." When the older man saw a question forming on the child's lips, he continued to speak as a thought in the back of his head began to think about his main goal that had him leaving the Moby Dick. Sadly, it wasn't because of this kid's darkness. It was a fairly easy darkness to handle, only because he had helped many people like this before, but still incredibly sad and heart breaking. Which made him shudder at the mere thought of how horrible messed up this darkness pulling him was. "Hey, I gotta quick question."

"What?" Sanji said using his soft tone - something Thatch appreciated over the fearful defensive comments he had gotten earlier.

"What is this place called?" When the short blond gave him a glare that borderlined astonishment and horror, Thatch gave a little light hearted chuckle. Not at the boy's expense but at his own stupidity.

"Baratie," Sanji quietly mumbled. "That's what the old man wanted to name it. Stupid, right?" He looked up to meet Thatch's eyes, wondering what he was going to say next.

"Old man?" Thatch questioned childishly, more to himself than the child. There was something poking around in his memory something stirring, and Thatch was trying to regain the old memory.

"His name is Zeff. He's alright." Even though his words hinted no praise or high regard for the chief, Thatch could tell by the way the boy's world lit up just by saying the owner of the restaurant's name.

Zeff? Thatch paused for a second as the old memory popped up in his head. It was an article one of his brother's showed him where two people, one Zeff the pirate captain of the cook pirates - known worldwide for his amazing skills in the kitchen - and the other one a kid who Thatch guessed was Sanji, were stranded without food or water for… the amount of time slipped Thatch's mind, but he knew it was a while, where the two nearly died of starvation. He heard rumours of cannibalism but was quick to shake that off considering Zeff was one of the ones stranded. That ex-pirate was a huge softy even though he would never admit it. Hell, Thatch would never admit it outloud for fear of retribution.

"Another question…" Thatch trailed up, rubbing Sanji's fluff of hair. When the boy looked up, not saying anything about the pure affection Thatch was giving him, the older man continued. "Where can I borrow a boat at? And when I mean borrow, I mean take and never give it back, probably never going to pay for it either. And it will most likely end up broken where I'm heading to."

Sanji grinned wildly. Taking Thatch's hand away from his head, he held tightly onto the larger hand and lead him away to where the boats were docked.

0o0

The day was turning to night on the restaurant on the see, and one very grumpy cook was searching through the entire ship looking for a specific boy. More like man, but considering his age and the person in question's age, he had a right to call the man a boy. He'd just gotten off the snail with Whitebeard informing him that he found one of his sons nearly drowning in the sea with a wrecked boat, to which Whitebeard laughed with his infamous 'gurararaarahaha'. Even though he came with dreadful news, reporting the injuries and damage done by the storm Thatch, the fourth division commander and head chief of the Whitebeard Pirates, had probably been victim of, his adoptive father just laughed giving the only explanation of 'he has the devil's luck, that's for sure!' And the cue in another episode of his infamous laugh. If there were moments of a coughing fit and what seemed to be a pause for vomiting blood - Zeff knew what was occurring; he wasn't stupid by no means - he ignored it in favor of not ruining the joy and pride the older man held for his son. When the conversation ended, Zeff entered the problem he was currently in: where the bloody hell was the kid?

Where was Thatch?!

After checking nearly every inch of the third story of the restaurant boat, he decided to go down a level. He reasoned that once a chief, always a chief, and that the boy was most likely starving. Starving children did not sit well in the ex-pirate's stomach. So, straightening out his posture to keep his same intimidating reputation, he opened the kitchen doors. Quickly looking through each station with practiced ease, he was at a lose. Just where was that boy? How was he supposed to explain this to Whitebeard without the strongest man in the world laughing his laugh off at him? Oh, boy, that was a conversation he assumed would be a pleasant one. Not really, because it wasn't going to happen because damn! He did not lose the kid!

As his eyes fell onto a certain station in the back, his eyes widened. At first anger seethed through his veins at whoever allowed his child to operate a station by himself while he was still recovering - Sanji wasn't his blood son but he guessed he was a little like Whitebeard in this manner; these people here were his family, and after going through such a horrific event with the youngest he felt the need to protect and love him as if he were his real son; not that blood mattered, but he was never going to admit that to the boy himself out of fear and other mixed up, confusing emotions. Walking quickly to his child Zeff huffed at the others who dared looked at him. Those that did only shrugged their shoulders in what Zeff couldn't understand right now.

When he was in front of Sanji, Sanji didn't even notice him. Which was weird in its own place; Sanji always knew when Zeff was near because he looked up to the man, loved the man like a father, admired him and aspired to be like him. Though the ex-pirate needed more time to cope with this new development. He was still overprotective of the child seeing as he nearly starved to death on his watch. If they'd been stuck there any longer the man would have allowed the boy to eat little of him in order to save the brat. Which, just to say, was saying a lot considering he was completely against cannibalism; why eat people when there were so many other creatures and plants out there to cook up? It didn't make sense to him, but back then in that moment it made perfect sense. He was trying to be the adult… But failed Sanji. He would never fail him again.

So he needed more time to come up with a plan to help Sanji out, but by looking at the boy cooking it seemed the problem fixed itself. Before he questioned how Sanji could hold back the pain of not eating, he heard soft smacking. At a closer look, he saw that Sanji was chewing gum. Genius! Pride swelled up in Zeff's heart as any trace of anger vanished. It was that very moment that Sanji turned over and saw his hero.

"Don't be mad!" Sanji pleaded, questioningly looking up at his saviour. "I - I am not eating anything, see? And I've been cooking for a while. I learned a lot of things today, but they aren't as good as your cooking when you do this, but, but see," Sanji proudly held up his dish to show Zeff. "See?"

It took a moment for Zeff to gain back his composure, Sanji taking it as a hint that he was disappointed in him. Before those eyes could get any sadder, Zeff gave off a small smile. "You did an okay job," And right now that was the only thing that he could have said right now.

"You really think so?" Sanji cheered, nearly jumping up and down in excitement.

"Yes," Zeff fake coughed as he noticed the other chiefs giving him knowing looks. He yelled at them to get back to work and then brought back his attention on the small child. "Who taught you?"

"Ah, I didn't catch his name. He had a weird pompadour." Sanji looked dejected at the thought he should have done something. "Was he new or something? Don't remember seeing him around a few days ago. Hell, I don't - " Zeff gently kicked him with his stubbed foot to which Sanji screeched 'hey' but otherwised ignored it. "I don't remember seeing him yesterday."

"His name is Thatch, and no he doesn't work here." Looking around, the older man questioned, "Where is he at?"

"Oh…" Sanji blushed, obviously knowing something. "Is he a pirate?"

Zeff raised an eyebrow at him, but didn't say anything. Just allowed Sanji to explain at his own pace.

"Because he wanted a boat to borrow. And I gave him permission to use a marine's ship." Whether there was a hint of playfulness in the child or not, Zeff didn't care. He headed for the docks, knowing he would be too later but he still had to at least try.

Once outside he didn't see any stray marine ship, though he did note that there was one missing - those who owned the boat would be pissed, but hell, it was their own fault. The breeze hit his face as he let out a long, exhausted sigh in knowing that he was going to have an interesting talk with Whitebeard soon. As he turned around to go back inside, he whispered to no one in particular,

"Thank you. For helping what my son do what he should."