The wind picked up and rain began to splatter in through Sanji's open window. He pulled it shut and stared at the dark sky outside. It was only four in the afternoon. The weather was getting colder and wetter as autumn settled in. Shivering, he slipped on a grey, woolly jumper and lit a cigarette. He was getting better at lighting up with his left hand now.

There was something comforting in the feeling of smoking inside the warmth of his bedroom whilst the rain and the wind whipped around outside. He returned to his bookshelf, looking over the titles. He promised to bring Zoro some reading material when he next visited. There was only so much daytime TV a guy could take after all.

His deodorant toppled to the floor with a clang. Sanji paused, book in hand. The old man was helping out at in the kitchens downstairs, so he was home alone. The flat seemed a lot more quiet tonight that usual. Shaking off the goose bumps growing on his skin, Sanji picked up the bottle of deodorant from the floor and replaced it on his drawer.

The air grew colder around him. Taking a drag to warm himself up, Sanji picked up the miniature Ouija board he kept on his bedside table. He walked to the window, letting the dim light from outside illuminate the board in his hands.

Taking a deep breath, he placed the planchette in the centre of the board and cleared his mind.

"Mum?" he called out softly, his breath coming out in tendrils from his lips. "Are you there?"

He stared at the planchette, unmoving on the board. Something grasped his arm. Sanji startled and turned around. It was his mother. She'd never appeared to him fully before. It was always just a passing figure, or a presence that closed an opened doors and knocked objects to the floor. But she'd never fully appeared to him like she did now. He could even see the different shades of gold in her hair, and the soft wrinkles at the edge of her lips as she smiled.

The planchette scraped across the Ouija board in his hand. Sanji glanced down at the letters it spelled out.

I. T. S. A. G. I. F. T.

Sanji's brows scrunched. Then he felt the temperature even out again. Glancing up, he watched his mother's spectre drift towards his bedroom door. It swung open and she disappeared into the corridor.

"Mum?" Sanji ran after her, watching as her spectre crossed the living room and headed for the front door. She held her hand out towards the door handle, then faded away like mist in the morning sun.

Sanji stared at the empty spot. The air was warm again, the Ouija board and the planchette lifeless in his hands.

She was gone. He couldn't feel her presence in the flat anymore. That was her moving on. Sanji's chest felt light with relief, but his head spun in confusion. Why now? Why did she leave now? What happened?

He glanced down at the board, the planchette still sitting on the letter 'T'. She must've know what Sanji did, how he'd helped Zoro's spectre, how he was openly talking to spectres now.

That was all she wanted. His mother was always so accepting of his abilities, calling it a gift and all as if he was destined to do something great with it one day. Sanji closed his hand around the miniature Ouija board. Well, he wasn't sure about 'great', but at least it was a step in the right direction.

But then an empty feeling began to settle like snowfall in the pit of his stomach. His mother was gone. No longer haunting their home. A sob escaped Sanji's lips as the edges of his vision blurred.

Sanji heard the front door shut, and Zeff's uneven footsteps as he ambled into the flat.

"Can't bloody trust anyone with a simple flambéed dessert," muttered the old man.

Sanji stayed sat on his floor, wedged in a corner where his bed met his beside table. A cigarette burned away between his fingers, as he held his knees to his chest.

"Sanji?" Zeff's voice called out, but he didn't answer.

The thumping of the old man's footsteps approached his room, and Sanji had to blink against the light from the corridor that flooded in through his door when Zeff entered his room.

Sanji's cheeks had long dried, but his eyes were still red and puffy. That was something he knew he couldn't hide, as he looked over his bed at his father.

Zeff's face softened when he saw Sanji.

"What's wrong?" he asked, a little too gruff, but Sanji could see the worry in his eyes. He rounded Sanji's bed and sat on the mattress, stretching out his prosthetic leg. Zeff waited for Sanji's answer.

"Mum's gone," said Sanji, his voice sounding hollow. He stared at the wooden floor of his bedroom.

He could feel the old man's eyes boring into the side of his head. Then he sighed. That same sigh whenever Sanji brought up anything to do with spectres or anything. He expected the lecture, a nag, something. But instead, he felt Zeff's heavy hand clasped on his shoulder.

"Your mum's been gone for a while now, little eggplant," he said. Sanji glanced up at him. He wanted to protest, to say that that wasn't what meant at all. But when he saw the thin line of the old man's lips, all of the fight drained from him.

"I miss her…"

Zeff nodded. "Yeah. Not a day goes by where I don't miss her…"

He pulled out his pipe and began to fill it with tobacco. Sanji butted out his cigarette and lit up another one, passing his lighter to the old man.

Zeff grimaced and waved the lighter away. "Pass us your match box."

Sanji pocketed his lighter and rummaged in his drawer for the little matchbook he was given a while ago.

"Look at the pair of us," Zeff grumbled, lighting the tobacco in his pipe. "Sat in the dark, chain smoking… If your mum could see us now."

Probably a good thing she isn't here anymore…

"It could be worse," said Sanji. "We could be getting drunk at the same time."

Zeff laughed. "You think that's worse? I think that's better!"

He gave Sanji a playful kick. "I've a got an unopened bottle of sherry in the kitchen."

Sanji snorted, but picked himself up from the floor. "Yep. Now mum must be rolling in her grave."

"I wouldn't be too sure about that. She would've been the first one to pour herself a glass!"

Sanji scowled. "Don't talk about my mother like that."

"What? That was one of her finest qualities. Face like an angel, but could drink any man under the table."

He guffawed, pulling out the bottle from the cupboard as he talked. Sanji sat at the table, listening to his old man ramble on and reminisce the earlier days. Zeff's eye sparkled with mirth. It could've been the alcohol, but watching the old man talk about his mother like she was never even gone filed that empty feeling in the pit of Sanji's stomach.

"Tell me more," he said, pouring out a second round of drinks before leaning back in his seat and listening to Zeff talking about the day he first met Sanji's mother.

A/N: Thanks for reading, reviewing, commenting, favouring and following, everyone! :D I hope you all liked it :P