The fire, burned bright. A warm flickering beacon of light encompassing the town below with a familiar and intriguing warmth. Available to the few who looked up from the gloomy familiarity of the fog in the cobbled stones below. Whoever passed all knew who resided within, they dare not speak his name or look upon his face. Fact is; some people believe (as most do eventually) that the house was..."Haunted." or "Evil." Neither are quite the right words for the place. Sandwhiched in between relatively normal looking buildings, in a normal part of town, with no numbers that signify or represent anything. Seemingly innocent to the occasional traveler, The infamy of the dwelling among the townsfolk, however, was not lost on anyone who had been around for the time when that golden age ended.
What makes all us beings, Humans or "Devils", tick? What calls them to leave their homes? What posseses them to throw caution to the wind and sail with the opposite tide? What makes their eyes burn with the fires of inner vision? What makes us take to the sea
Lusting for adventure and entertaining the notion of seeing things no one has ever dared to in the very crack of the earth's core. Sail with the sky as their guide, to explore everything beyond the clouds. A town up where the angels reside, with a golden bell that rings true to the sound of triumph through adversity for a thousand years!. Clouds or black clouds, good weather or bad...stretching in and out of peripheral. A harsh and cruel mistress in all her majesty and glory, the shining endless crystal sheet on which they sail toward their destiny, all the while looking to the sun for guidance and the moon as a warning of high tides. To make every man, woman or scheming child use their wings to soar to new heights of imagination. Their legs to run as fast as they can to the unknown. To fail a million times and continue to get back up, not caring when they've been kicked down. Not caring when the rain and waves comes down so hard that it sweeps you off your feet and into the briny blue. Not caring...
When the craziest stuff happens ...and when that crazy stuff turns into an old sailor's tales.
What makes us cry for adventure?
Is the destination where we think we'll end up? Some place where the impossible things that you thought were absolutely, by any stretch of the most creative soul were out of the question...happen. A place where you meet a Swordsman, willing to risk his life for a complete stranger. Maybe a mountain where you meet a reindeer with a blue nose. A restaurant...floating in the middle of the sea. Things that you discover along the way. A ship...with a Goat's head that sits at the front of the vessel, donning a bright positive smile, setting the attitude for the journey ahead. A constant beacon of hope and support. A reminder to keep charging forward. A ship…with a mighty lion. Nothing can stand in it's path. Maybe just the company you keep? The crazy, insane, lying, wise and kind-hearted... company you keep...or a little bit of each put together.
The fire started to die, the flames withdrawing slightly as if making way for a greater presence. The corners of the dimly lit room were camouflaged in what little light shone into them. The edges of the dwelling blending into obscurity, making them seem non-existent. The decor, "experienced." If a stranger would look around, had they summoned the courage to wander into the front door. Looking at the various trinkets and baubles, nothing would strike as especially consequential... an assumption that would be wrong, the word "knick-knacks" did not exist here.
A large wooden chair was placed beside the hearth, one of the more beautiful and ornate pieces in the room and justifiably so...The polished wood shimmered with the hue of the hushed glow of the fireplace.
Had it not been for the man residing within it. The room would have been very inviting.
A person might accidentally say "Old Salt" if they saw him hobbling down the street...They would quickly be corrected. "Captain, to you." He'd gruffly mumble as he passed by. After that, they wouldn't likely ever get it wrong again.
The man sat quietly in the room's proud centerpiece. His features fading in and out of obscurity from the light of dying embers. Everything was as it should be and never really expected to change. It looked as if was never meant to be different at all. Every color forming the residence painting a scene of solidity. The crisp brush strokes of orange and deep red that make the flames come to life. The dark, muted colors of black and grey, just about obscuring the mysterious face of the old salt... or the deeply muted blue and tan, constructing the boy who sat on the floor. He sat across from the old man he had grown so familiar. Lifelong aquantainces.
Why are we going?
When will we get there?
What will we do when we get there?
The man, creakily, reached into his jacket, speaking slowly and softly as he withdrew an unseen item from within. "So...whatr'ya here for... Hehe…pipsqueak?" The crisp edge to his voice as he spoke was unmistakably clear and precise.
A cigarette was now housed in between his lips as the old salt grinned at the young lad. On this night of all nights. He would enjoy taking his sweet time, he laid back in his chair, and took a second item from his jacket, a metallic shimmer flashing for a brief moment as a soft orange light brushed against it before sparking to life. The old Captain comfortably smoked his cigarette. This particular night he would tell the boy a story. Nothing that can be taken out of any book ever written, that no pages would tame. Wild and glorious, like the blue and endless lady herself.
"I need to hear it." The lads gaze was determined. His eyes fixed and unchanging.
A legend that made men cry for adventure.
"A need is a funny thing, little shit."
"Don't call me that."
About the men who changed the course of the world.
"Why do you wanna know so badly," The ancient man grinned, leaning back in his chair. He took another drag of his cigarette and defiantly blew smoke in the boy's face. "Little shit."
"Because you're dying, bird-shit hair."
"WHADYUUSEEY?!" The man grabbed the boy by the collar, lifting him into the air. The fire suddenly went down to barely a dim glow. The captain blew smoke once again into the boys face. The boy only looked slightly annoyed. This was routin. The cozy setting, where the man and the lad would be at eachothers throats. Nothing was out of place. This was how it should be
How it would be for the last time. The captain glared into the eyes of the unimpressed boy before him, still having him by the collar of his shirt before a tiny smirk slowly made its way onto his wrinkled face.
He started laughing. "Aren't you a perceptive little…eggplant?"
The boy rolled his eyes as he was dropped by the man. The fire cooled for a moment before bursting back to the few, soft embers. The Captain, lingered for a moment before sitting down. He took the lit cigarette from his shrunken lips, finding time for one. Last. Drag. All the smoke he had been blowing had made the room haze slightly.
Looking towards the fireplace, the old man took two slow steps toward his chair. He sat down, never for one moment taking his eyes off the flickering light before him. "Luffy, open the window."
Luffy was taken aback at the sudden use of his name, he shot the withered man a puzzled look. The pirate didn't respond in any way, his gaze fixed despondently on the fireplace. Luffy glanced back at the man. He paused, stray thoughts drifting into focus. He shook his head, snapping himself out of daydreaming while he opened the window.
All was quiet.
The smoke sped silently from the room, as if an unknown force was pushing it out. Luffy looked down on the small town, not a sound. No steps echoing. No ruckus from the tavern. No cats begging for scraps. The wind and sea were subdued.
"Sanji?" Luffy turned to look at the pirate, slightly surprised to see he was looking towards the window now.
"What is it.. Luffy?" A small, raspy chuckle escaped his lips. The way he shifted his eyes to the boy… It was almost as if Sanji were talking to someone else. Luffy stood silent for awhile, he hadn't really thought about what to say or do, it felt strange. After so long they had not called each other by their proper names. They both gave a quick nod, one after the other. As if they were acknowledging each other for the first time.
Expressionless, Luffy walked over to stand before the old pirate's chair. He kept a respectful distance as he stood before Sanji. He no longer was a frail old man in Luffy's eyes.
He was the fierce pirate who sailed to the ends of the earth.
The man with a heart of gold, who answered to "Devil." by those who feared him. There, sitting just in front of him was someone who had conquered the great age of pirates, fought countless battles and who's bounty was countless. A hero.
His hero.
"You're dying, aren't you old m…Sanji?"
Sanji grinned, casting his eyes up to the ceiling. He looked at the wooden beams lining it….
And he saw Sunny….He saw his nakama. He felt the wind and waves moving his crew. His beloved crew, to their next destination. Then he looked down and he saw Luffy. A young lad, no older than Luffy was when he first set out to become a pirate. So alike. Yet, so different.
Sanji smiled wide as he could, flashing the toothiest grin he could manage.
"Hey, Luffy. Wanna hear a story?"