Author's Notes: This burbled into my brain the other day and wouldn't leave me alone until I wrote it out. Then, once I started; it sort of grew into this monstrous thing. In case the title didn't give it away, this is about Brook before he died the first time. I hope you all like it and for those who are looking for my Naruto series to be updated, never fear! That is still percolating along as well and I will hopefully have another chapter ready for next week.
Ah, also Oda-san says Brook would be Austrian in the real world so there is a very small bit of German in the first part of this story. EDIT! Thanks to Yume111 for correcting my Austrian. I have changed Brook's childhood nickname to better reflect his nationality. Opa means grandpa and Shatzerl (pronounced shutsal) means little treasure.
Disclaimer: I do not own One Piece. Good thing too. I don't want all those pirates hunting me down to steal it.
Song of Flesh
"Look, Shatzerl." A carefully bright voice announced as an unusual pair of travelers rounded the corner. "We are nearly there."
The speaker was an old man; his once tall and strong body withered and his spine bowed down by the weight of all the years he had lived. Despite his age, his eyes still sparked with a keen wit and the wrinkles on his long face showed he was more used to smiling and laughter than sorrow. Even as he spoke he smiled down at the child at his side, though his eyes flickered with sadness even through the cheerful expression. Though he had recently just turned six, the child was only a foot or so shy of being as tall as his weathered guardian. Far from anything traditionally considered handsome, the tall boy was gangly looking; skinny, with too-long limbs and knobby joints. His features were angular despite the touch of softness all children seem to possess. An unruly riot of black curls formed a halo around a narrow face with sallow skin, large eyes, high cheekbones, and a sharp nose. The boy chewed at his lower lip nervously as he peered down the twilit street, one of his front teeth just starting to grow back in where he'd lost a baby tooth.
Letting out a small whimper, the child clutched desperately at the frail hand in his, as he spotted the severe brick building on the hill across town. He looked up at the elderly man beside him, the only family he had ever known, tears welling in his dark eyes.
"Do I really have to go live there, Opa?" The child asked pleadingly, his voice reedy and strained with suppressed tears. "I want to stay with you."
"I know, little one." The withered man leaned down to look his only grandchild in the eye, his own eyes moist with regret. "I wish you could as well, but I am very old. I will not always be able to provide for you." He smiled, hoping the six year old would not pick up on the pain beneath his cheerful facade. "Do not think that I'm sending you away because I do not want you, Shatzerl. I love you very much. I only wish your parents could have lived to see you now." He reached out a gnarled hand and ruffled the dark curls that refused to be tamed.
The boy leaned into the touch, closing his eyes to absorb the familiar affection. "I love you too...so why are you sending me away?" He asked, voice cracking as the tears began to flow in earnest. "Have...have I been bad? I won't do it again, I promise!"
The old man shook his head and hugged the boy close. "No, no. Hush, Shatzerl. You are a good boy! You did nothing wrong, but you are growing up so fast. It is my responsibility to see that you grow up well, so I must make sure you have proper schooling." He pulled back to look the still sniffling child in the eyes once more. "I have made all the arrangements for you here. They will care for you until you come of age and teach you a trade as well. It is the best life I can provide for you with what I have." He wiped the tears that ran down the boy's thin cheeks and forced a smile. "I am sorry, Shatzerl."
"Opa..." The boy bit his lip again, forcing a smile of his own even as his tears refused to subside. "I'll make you proud of me...and when I grow up, I'll come back home and...and take care of you, okay?" He scrubbed long fingered hands against his eyes and sniffed the last of his tears away for the moment.
"Nothing would make me happier." His grandfather agreed with a nod. "But I am already proud of you, my little Brook." He hugged the child once again, pouring all the strength his arthritis riddled frame could muster into the embrace. "Now, we still have a long walk to go and it's nearly dark."
The pair set off again, the building disappearing behind others as they wandered down the street of the island's only town. The journey from their home island had been long and arduous for the old man and terrifying and exciting for the child who had fallen in love with the sea almost at once. Young Brook had spent his days pestering the crew of the huge passenger ship about the many mysteries of life as a sailor; and his nights listening to those same crewmen as they sang and danced and told stories in the galley.
It had been nearly enough to make the child forget for a brief time the purpose of their voyage across the ocean known as West Blue.
"Opa?" The child's voice broke through the darkening night like a pane of glass shattering and it startled both of them. Still, Brook was quick to press on, eyes wide at the growing shadows around them. "It's scary here."
His grandfather wrapped a thin arm around his narrow shoulders. "There's nothing to be scared of, Shatzerl. It's the same night we have at home; the same stars, the same sea mist." He spoke softly, comfortingly. "Still, perhaps this night is missing something." He hinted, grinning at the child he had raised from infancy. "Something to keep the shadows at bay, perhaps?"
The boy lit up as he caught on. "We should sing, Opa!" He announced excitedly. "Nothing is scary when we sing."
The old man laughed indulgently and the night was soon broken by a surprisingly strong baritone accompanied by an only slightly shaky harmony in a much higher octave. The cheerful song echoed through the growing night as the pair made their way to the gate in the high wall surrounding the building they'd seen from below. A brass plaque set into the brick wall proclaimed it to be the "Templeton Academy for Boys" and declared an impressive date of establishment over a hundred years prior.
The pair fell silent as they passed through the imposing metal gates and were greeted by a stern man with square spectacles and a sharply pressed brown suit.
An hour later, Brook stood with that man and watched his beloved grandfather wave as those same gates closed behind him before the headmaster took him by the shoulder and steered him into his new home.
Less than a year later, Brook received word that his grandfather had passed away. Everything he owned had been sold and the resulting beris were left in trust for the orphaned six year old. It wasn't a huge fortune, but the headmaster assured the stricken child that it would cover his tuition and other needs until he came of age. Brook couldn't have cared less at that moment.
Later he hid in the garden and cried, thinking of the promise to his grandfather that he would never have the chance to keep.
"I can't take care of you now, Opa..." He told the stars brokenly. "But...I'll still make you proud."
Then he began to sing softly, not wanting the staff to come drag him off to his dorm room but needing the comfort of the familiar pastime. His high, childish voice shook with emotion as it drifted on the wind; the old song sounding lonely without the harmony.
"Brook! Wait up, man!" A voice called out, stopping the fifteen year old in his tracks.
Brook turned to watch his classmate and best friend catch up, the shorter teen panting from the run.
"Sometimes I think you forget that not everyone has built in stilts like those things you call legs, man. I've been trying to catch up to you for ten blocks."
Brook chuckled sheepishly. "I am most terribly sorry, Edward." The fifteen year old bowed elaborately, an action that was made much more ridiculous by his lanky six and a half foot frame. "We cannot all be as compactly built as you are, my dear friend."
The blonde fumed. "Who the heck are you calling short, you...you...stick bug!?"
Brook only laughed cheerfully, used to his friend's short fuse when it came to mention of his less than average height. "Calm down." He said placatingly. "What did you want anyway?"
The four foot two teen huffed, shaking off the last of his indignation as he was reminded of his mission in seeking out his friend in the first place. "Oh, the headmaster wants to see you. Right away."
The lanky teen nodded and turned around, aborting his walk to the harbor and heading back to the school that had been his home for almost ten years. It wasn't a bad place, though the staff was strict and the students could be cruel if you showed any sign of weakness. Brook had a naturally cheerful personality, a friendly attitude, and a quick mind that tended to placate both his classmates and his teachers.
"I'm sorry, Brook." The headmaster said again.
The teen stared in confusion at the papers the man had handed him. "How is this possible, Sir?" He asked carefully, using all the manners his etiquette teacher had drilled into him over the years.
"I'm afraid your grandfather's executor made some errors in his accounting of the total amount. I'm not sure if those errors were intentional or accidental and it hardly matters now, as the man passed away six months ago. The new executor was the one who caught the mistake and alerted me to it." The middle aged man sighed and removed his glasses to rub the bridge of his nose. "I'm terribly sorry, but your inheritance won't cover another term after this one and the school cannot afford to let you remain on charity."
"Where will I go?" The boy asked in shock. "I have no family, no home to go back to, no job...and now you're telling me I have no money either. What would you suggest I do, Sir?"
"Well, you have a few months to decide. You have decent marks in most of your subjects so you might be able to apprentice to one of the tradesmen in town. If that doesn't appeal to you, Master Giraude says you are the most naturally talented fencer he's ever trained. Perhaps you might consider the Royal Guard? They allow recruits to sign up at sixteen with permission from a guardian and you're almost sixteen, aren't you? I'm certain they'd take you if I explained your situation to them. Also, Madam Bertrand says you are a very gifted musician and singer so you might possibly find work as a music tutor. I'm sure we can come up with something for you."
"I..." The teen's mind stuttered to a halt, overloaded by the day's events. "Thank you, Sir. I need time to think it over."
"Of course. You have until the end of the summer term to decide."
The tall young man stood, bowing awkwardly before leaving the suddenly stifling office and making a beeline for the gate. He ignored Edward's voice as he passed the smaller teen in the hall and broke into a jog that quickly outpaced anything his classmate could keep up with. As he left the school grounds, the jog became a full out run that only ended when he reached the harbor and was left with the choice to either stop or throw himself into the ocean. The gangly boy sat down on the edge of the pier to catch his breath; uncaring that his shoes were getting wet as his long legs dangled in the spray from the waves crashing just a few feet below him.
"Oi, kid. Something chasing you?" A rough voice caused the teen to jump and nearly slip off into the water if an equally rough hand hadn't caught the back of his collar and pulled him away from the edge.
Brook closed his eyes as he processed the icy seawater dunking he had nearly added to his bad day. "Thank you, Sir. No...I..." He trailed off as he recognized the owner of the hand now pulling him to his feet. "Captain Marquis, I didn't know your ship was in..."
The burly man grinned at the youth that had been a fixture at the port for years. He still recalled when the lad had first showed up on the docks; all arms and legs and big dark eyes and ridiculous fluffy hair he refused to cut, staring at everything with wide eyes and an eager grin. Brook loved everything about the sea and spent much of his free time among the busy port's constant flow of ships and seafaring men. Over the years, many of the sailors had come to care for the friendly child and they looked out for him. Captain Marquis and his crew were among those Brook counted as friends and he hadn't been expecting them back for another week.
"Ah well, my men were pining for home and we finished escorting that last shipment almost three days early so we got a fine bonus. I thought we'd take a bit of a break. The next convoy is gonna be a big one, bound to attract a fair number of ruffians. We've got a few weeks before we have to go meet them though."
"Ah, well...welcome home." Brook answered distractedly, his mind back on his problems.
The mercenary eyed the teen curiously. Usually the boy was full of questions about every voyage they returned from; how many pirates they fought, what sort of creatures they saw, what islands they landed at, etcetera.
"Alright, Kid, what's wrong with you?" He asked, jerking the teen from his thoughts.
Brook sighed and ran a hand through his hair fretfully as the whole story came pouring out.
Marquis laid a hand on his young friend's shoulder as he finished explaining. "That's a tough break." He said seriously. "Still, could be worse. I've seen you spar with some of the younger lads on my crew and you've a fine knack for swordplay, even if it is that poncy kind they teach up at the academy. If you want, I can offer you a place on my crew. It don't pay much at first but it does include room and board and advancement is by merit only. That means if you do a good job, you move up in the ranks, simple as that."
Brook found himself smiling for the first time since he'd gotten the news about his impending homelessness. "Really, Captain?"
"Of course, Brat. You think I make offers like that just to hear myself talk?"
He suddenly found himself with long arms wrapped around his shoulders in an enthusiastic hug as the teen celebrated his new hope for the future.
"Oi, let go, Brat." He ordered without any real heat. "Your gonna make the others think I've gone soft."
"Right. Yes, Sir." The young man laughed, letting go and bouncing happily on his toes with suppressed energy. "First rule, no hugging the Captain. Got it."
"Come on, kid. I'll buy you a drink and we can tell the others the good news."
The next day Brook packed his few personal effects and moved them to his new home aboard Marquis' ship, the Fair Trade. Two weeks later he was waving at Edward as the boy stood on the docks to see him off.
Brook led his men into battle with a grim smile. Three years had passed since he had joined the mercenary group and he had flown up through the ranks. He now had his own ship in Marquis' small fleet and had two dozen men under his command. They teased the eighteen year old goodnaturedly about his age but every one of his men took orders from the younger man without hesitation when it mattered and he did his best to ensure they came out of every battle in one piece.
The battle was brief, over before the bandits even knew what was happening. The eight and a half foot tall teen sheathed his rapier with a flourish as the would-be-thieves fell from his surgically precise strikes. His own group cheered, in victory as one of the only men in his command younger than him came running from the ship with a denden mushi.
"Commander Brook! You have a call, Sir!" The eager fourteen year old crowed as he wriggled his way through the crowd.
"A call?" Brook echoed once he finally managed to hear through the noise. He took the snail and slipped from the group so he could hear better. "Hello?" He said once he was certain he could talk without having to shout.
"Hello, is this Commander Brook?"
"Speaking."
"Excellent. I am calling on behalf of her royal highness, Princess Marietta of Madripoor. You guarded her highness' cousin last month on an ambassadorial voyage."
"I remember, sir." The increasingly curious teen said politely.
"Well, her highness wishes to extend you an offer to join her personal guard."
For a moment the lanky teen was struck silent before his manners reasserted themselves. "I am honored by the offer." He said carefully. "However, may I request a few days to consider it?"
"Very well. I will call again in one week for your decision."
"Thank you."
The man disconnected without bothering to say goodbye and Brook was left staring at the closed eyes of the dendenmushi with a dazed look on his long face.
"Well of course you have to take the job, Brat." Marquis scoffed at Brook's reluctance.
"But you've done so much for me." The teen frowned.
"And you've made me a lot of beris for my trouble, lad." The older man laughed. "I gave you a job when you needed it and I've never regretted that but I knew all along this was temporary. You're too good for this line of work and you deserve to have a chance to make something of your life. You've got too much potential for me to let you waste it fighting no name bandits to protect a bunch of meaningless cargo for a bunch of greedy merchants." He smiled and reached up to pat the slim young man on the shoulder in a fatherly manner. "You're going to be famous someday, kid. I can see it in you. Go out there and show the world what you can do."
Brook grinned and threw his long arms around the broad chest exuberantly. "Thank you Captain." He said, holding back tears. "I'll make you proud, Sir."
"Hey, you forget the first rule, kid?"
"Yohohoho." Brook laughed musically and let go. "No hugging the Captain. Sorry, Sir."
'Five years.' Brook stared morosely into his cup of...what was he drinking again? He couldn't recall, but he soon decided it didn't matter. Just so it made him stop thinking.
'That's not really working, now is it?' His bleary mind chimed in unhelpfully and he buried his face in his long fingered hands as he leaned over the bar. 'You can't forget. All that work, the reputation you built up for yourself, the honors the princess bestowed on you, all those men who trusted you...all gone because you spoke out at the wrong moment against someone whose blood was bluer than your own.'
"Shut up." He mumbled bitterly, not needing the recap of his recent losses, but his mind went on despite his protests.
'Sure...they let you fight their wars for them, kill for them, die for them...but they make the decisions. You were only ever an attack dog to them; no matter how fancy a title they gave you or how many soldiers they let you lead. So what if a few hundred civilians were likely to be killed if you attacked that town, right? Those were your orders, weren't they? A good dog obeys it's master's commands.'
"SHUT UP!" The man snarled, pulling at his hair and surging to his feet, only to smack his head on the rafter as he neglected to consider the low ceiling.
"Alright buddy." A voice called out sternly. "I'm cutting you off. Pay up and get out."
Brook silently laid his last few coins on the bar and moved towards the door. "Sorry for the disturbance." He mumbled with a small bow as he ducked out of the dingy establishment.
He stumbled down the street, occasionally using the buildings to hold up his long frame. 'You're a fool, Brook. You'll never amount to anything.'
Brook mulled over his subconscious' insults for a few minutes, letting them stew in the alcohol he had imbibed over the course of several hours...or had it been several weeks?
True, he had worked hard to rise through the ranks of Her Highness' elite troops. He had been the youngest battalion leader in the history of Madripoor with several hundred soldiers under his command by the time he turned twenty. When the kingdom went to war against a neighboring island, he had proudly led his forces to victory in many battles. However, his conscience had slowly begun to bother him as the orders he was handed became increasingly reckless as the war dragged on into its second year. The final straw had been a battle strategy thought up by a minor noble in Princess Marietta's court. The strategy hinged on his troops destroying a small town that had allowed enemy forces to be housed and treated in it's hospital. Brook had been appalled by the projected 'acceptable loss of civilian life' and had raised an objection to the plan before the princess' war council. The originator of the plan had taken offense to his protest and accosted him in the palace gardens demanding a duel. Brook had been forced to defend himself and the middle aged nobleman had been quickly defeated. However, the palace guard had been alerted to the ruckus and when they arrived the man had insisted that Brook had started the fight without provocation.
Within days, the nearly nine foot tall, twenty-three year old found himself removed from his post and exiled from the kingdom of Madripoor. Only his status as a war hero had saved him from prison or the gallows and he had had barely enough money to book passage to another island and get roaring drunk once he got there.
Unfortunately, the musician had discovered too late that being drunk only served to make his subconscious meaner and made him feel rather sick besides. Now he was left with no money, no food, no job, no home, and a doozy of a hangover to look forward to in the morning.
'Told you you were a fool...' His mind taunted him snidely.
'Well, now I'll have more time to practice my violin.' He thought sarcastically, having lost his student instrument as well as most of his other personal possessions when he was chased out of Madripoor.
Suddenly, Brook let out a sound of sour mirth at his thought. The chuckle was followed by another and soon his clear voice was ringing through the night in uncontrollable, nearly hysterical laughter. Tears streamed from his eyes as he laughed until his chest ached and his throat burned. It was a bitter laugh but somehow it was cathartic as well.
"Yohohohoho...I may be a fool..." He said when he finally got himself back under control. Brook was fully aware it was mad to talk to oneself but he didn't particularly care at the moment and he pressed on. "But I'm not going to let this stop me. I still have things I can do...and expectations I need to live up to."
The man shoved himself to his feet with more grace than one might expect from someone so very tall and so very drunk; swaying only slightly as he continued down the street to a park he thought might have a decent bench to sleep on. Tomorrow he would sing for his supper and actually spend the money on food rather than alcohol.
His past was behind him and there was no point in dwelling on it any longer. He was on a new island, no one knew him here. It was time to get a fresh start.
"Hey, do you know Bink's Sake?" A voice called out from the crowd in the bar Brook was entertaining one evening.
"Yohoho, of course I do, my good man." He announced with a wide grin as he placed his worn bow to his equally shabby secondhand violin and began to play the familiar sea shanty. His voice filled the room as he played the song at a cheerful tempo and several of the sailors around the tavern joined in as the song progressed.
A few hours later, the twenty five year old packed away his violin and gathered up his shabby top hat which had been set out for tips. After giving the bar keeper his cut, the musician had just enough for a couple of meals or one night at the local inn. He was debating the merits of sleeping in the street versus going hungry when a laughing voice called out to him.
"Hey, you. From the bar."
Brook spun to face the speaker, his cane in his hands; poised to draw the hidden blade if the man proved to be less friendly than his smile indicated. In his two years on the street, Brook had quickly learned that it was wise to look harmless but not actually be harmless; thus he had acquired a thin cane that hid a narrow sword. It wasn't a particularly good blade but it served its purpose. The sword had been the second purchase he had saved up for after he'd managed to buy a second hand violin from a junk shop. The battered instrument lent him a certain credibility when he approached tavern keepers for work and the sword was an excellent deterrent the few times someone had tried to cheat him out of his earnings.
He wasn't sure what the man wanted with him, though he recognized him as the man who had requested Bink's Sake in the tavern.
"May I help you?" The lanky musician asked politely, though his facial features betrayed his wariness.
"I like the way you play." The man announced pleasantly. "The name's Yorki, by the way. What's yours?"
"Brook." The taller man supplied evenly with a small bow. "Thank you for the compliment."
"I wanted to ask if you might be interested in joining my crew."
Brook blinked down at the man curiously. "What?"
"I'm captain of a ship and I could use a fine musician like you on my crew, provided you can handle yourself in a fight as well." Eyes trailed to the grip on the cane sword and sheathe knowingly.
"I...I'm sorry but no." The dark haired man shook his head and turned away.
A gentle grip on his arm stopped him. "Don't be so hasty. It isn't an offer I make lightly, Brook."
"Why would you seek me out?" The tall man asked. "You don't even know me."
The Captain grinned cheerfully. "You know Bink's Sake." He said simply before the tall musician's blank look prompted him to explain. "It's my favorite song."
"Plenty of other musicians can play that song." Brook pointed out, shaking his head.
"Ah, true...but not the way you play it. You put your soul into your music, you bring it to life. That's what I look for in my crew, Brook."
Brook laughed despite his doubts. "Yohoho! What sort of crew is this, Captain Yorki? Traveling minstrels?"
The shorter man shook his head and chuckled. "No. Pirates." He announced nonchalantly.
"Yohohoho!" Brook laughed, finding the other man's good humor oddly contagious. "You're joking, yes?"
"Nope." Yorki grinned. "I'm Captain of the Rumbar Pirates and you are my new crewmember."
"I am, am I?" Brook asked with a grin.
"Aren't you going to say yes?" The man asked pleasantly. "I mean, you're clearly worth more than the handful of beri those drunks threw in your hat this evening. Don't you want to do something more with your life than that?"
Brook pondered the question for a moment and the offer for several more. He'd never given the idea of piracy much thought. He'd fought a few in his years but never considered becoming one. Still, his very public disgrace had left him with few legitimate job opportunities as a swordsman and his current lifestyle barely kept him fed and rarely kept him sheltered.
He allowed a slow smile to grace his face and bowed theatrically, decision made. "I would be most honored to accompany you, Captain Yorki. When do we sail?"
"Tomorrow at noon." The jovial pirate grinned and thumped the taller man on the back as the pair set off down the street, the shorter of the two talking animatedly as they went.
With a little persuasion from his new captain, singing soon rang out through the darkened town, the familiar melody ringing through the night in cheerful harmony.
Brook found himself unable to stop smiling as he sang; the grim night now seeming so much brighter with his new Captain at his side. His soul seemed to swell with joy and in his mind he could hear his grandfather's voice.
'Something to keep the shadows at bay, perhaps?'
'We should sing, Opa. Nothing is scary when we sing.'
Brook laughed into the night, perhaps that was the trick to life, he decided. 'Just keep singing.'
Pain was the first thing Brook was aware of as unconsciousness reluctantly released him from her comfortable clutches. His head felt like it might vibrate itself into a million pieces with every heartbeat.
"He's coming around. Brook! Brook!" An insistent voice penetrated his aching head and it took the swordsman a few moments to identify it as the voice of his Captain.
He tried to open his eyes but found that they were restricted by something soft. He moaned and reached for his head but several pairs of strong hands grabbed his arms.
"Don't let him pull off those bandages." Another voice ordered brusquely.
'Doc.' Brook's mind supplied the man's nickname and occupation while he tried to recall what had landed him in his current condition. 'There was a battle...or was it a party...and...a mountain landed on me...no that's not right...maybe a sea king...no...'
"Brook, can you hear me?" Yorki's forcibly calm voice cut through his first mate's scattered thoughts.
Brook nodded and immediately regretted it as pain flared through his skull. He groaned and once again tried to move, only to be thwarted by the gentle but firm hands on his limbs.
"Stay still, idiot." Doc's harsh voice hid genuine concern as he laid a careful hand on the tall man's shoulder and gave it a reassuring squeeze. "You're lucky you still have a head on those mile high shoulders at all, and I won't have you pulling at the bandages that are holding it together or moving and rattling what's left of your brain loose. Got it?"
Brook took a moment to organize his thoughts through the pain and another to remember how his mouth worked before he managed to respond. "Yes, Doc."
A cheer went up from far more people than the musician had realized were in the room and he jumped in surprise, sending fresh waves of agony crashing through his skull.
"There, he's alive and awake." Doc snapped tiredly. "Now, everybody who isn't helping, get out!"
Most of the hands on the tall musician receded now that he wasn't trying to move. Shuffling of many feet could be heard as what sounded like most of the crew left the room. The pain receded back to a tolerable level as he lay still and the twenty eight year old reveled in the return of his ability to think.
"Brook, do you remember what happened?" Yorki's voice asked carefully, clearly having ignored the order to leave. Captain's prerogative, Brook supposed.
The injured first mate considered the question carefully before deciding on an answer. "There was a fight...with marines...I think...I'm afraid it gets a bit fuzzy after that, Captain."
"You're lucky it didn't get a bit wingy and harpish after that." Doc muttered. "If you had been standing another inch to the right you'd have gotten much worse than a creased skull."
"What happened?" Brook asked, feeling more than a bit alarmed at the images the ship's doctor was painting in his mind.
"You were grazed by part of a cannonball, Brook." Yorki's calm voice cut in, utterly serious in light of the situation. A warm hand landed on the injured man's shoulder, helping to soothe the rising panic Brook could feel trying to overtake him. "It blew up just a few feet from you. Doc says it's amazing you survived at all."
"Ah, I see...or rather I don't actually. Yohoho." The twenty eight year old laughed nervously at his bad joke. "Why are my eyes covered?" He asked when his slightly hysterical giggle subsided.
Doc fielded the question carefully. "There was some bleeding in your skull." He explained slowly. "It may have...damaged...your optic nerves, so I covered your eyes...to give them time to heal."
Brook considered the words carefully, feeling the omissions in them as keenly as if they'd been spoken aloud. "But...they may not heal...am I right Doc?" He asked, dreading the answer.
Doc shifted uncomfortably in his place before sighing. "There's a chance...that I might not have caught it in time." He finally admitted.
"So, I may be blind?"
"It's...a possibility."
Brook absorbed the information for several long moments, the silence in the room oppressive. Then he let out a dry chuckle. "Yoho, good thing I can play by ear, isn't it Captain?"
Yorki laughed at the lame joke, recognizing his friend's way of coping with stress for what it was and willing to indulge him.
"How long until I know for sure?" The dark haired man asked seriously as his mirth faded away.
"I'd give it at least three weeks before we try to take off the bandages." Doc answered evenly.
"Three weeks." Brook repeated. "Okay. What should I do in the meantime?"
Doc snorted. "For now, lay there and try not to rattle that brain around in that oversized hair of yours." Brook could hear the affection in the older man's tone despite the gruff words. "In a couple of days we'll see about standing on those poles you call legs and by the end of the week you should be up back in your own bunk and out of my hair."
"Yohohoho." Brook chuckled. "Ah, well then I suppose I shall have to sing to pass the time. Any requests?" He asked with only a slight uncertainty tainting his smile.
"Sing that song." Yorki said easily, and Brook listened as his captain settled into the chair beside the infirmary bed.
"First drink this." Doc interrupted. "It'll help your head."
Between the three of them, they managed to prop the slim man up without setting off too many explosions in his skull and Brook dutifully swallowed the foul tasting concoction the ship's doctor held to his lips.
"Eurgh!" The injured man made a face as they laid him back on the pillows before he rallied and began to sing. "Yohohoho yohohoho..."
He was asleep before he finished the second verse.
Yorki chuckled as the last line trailed off into a snore. "What did you give him?"
"Something to help his head." Doc answered with a grin. "Sleep."
Brook slowly exited the infirmary, clutching his sheathed sword cane and using it to sweep the ground in front of him for obstacles as he had seen blind beggars do in the past. Bandages still swathed his eyes and head but he couldn't spend another minute inside so he was braving both the doctor's wrath and the risk of falling overboard to go up on deck for some fresh air.
"Brook?"
The blind man yelped and jumped, only barely managing to keep from falling over as his head throbbed from the jarring movement. He pressed one hand to his bandages as if that might help hold the pain down and waited it out.
"What are you doing out of bed, Brook?" Yorki's voice sounded again from just behind him. "It's only been a day. Doc's gonna finish what that cannon started and take your head off for you if you aren't careful."
"I know, Captain, but it's too quiet in there. I can sit and be useless just as well on deck as I can in the infirmary, can't I?" He asked with his most winning smile aimed in the direction he guessed his captain to be located.
Yorki laughed. "Hmph, I suppose you can." He agreed easily. "But when Doc finds out, I had nothing to do with it, you hear me?"
"Yes, My Captain." Brook offered a sloppy salute in place of his usual bow and continued on his mission to reach the deck; stubbing his bare toes a few times on the stairs and banging one knee rather solidly on a crate as he crossed to an out of the way place near the railing and sat down with a sigh.
He silently absorbed the murmur of activity all around him, waving lazily in reply to anyone who called out to him and soaking in the sunlight of the warm spring day at sea.
"What are you doing out here?" A cranky voice cut into his reverie.
"Just sitting, Doc." Brook replied. "It is easier to enjoy being alive out here." He explained with a small laugh.
Doc sighed and flopped down on the deck next to his patient. "You're going back to lie down as soon as the sun sets." He said with an air of resignation. "And you tell me the moment you feel any dizziness or nausea. You hear me?"
"Yes, Sir." The swordsman agreed to the terms of his escape with a grin. "Thank you." He added sincerely.
"Yeah well...better than having you cluttering up my infirmary all day. Your feet hang off the bed and you snore." The old doctor muttered sourly.
Brook laughed. "Yohoho! Of course. My apologies."
"Hmph."
Brook fidgeted as deft hands worked at the knot on his bandages. His long fingers drummed a staccato rhythm on the bedside table as he sat on the narrow infirmary bed and his knees bounced along in an off beat little dance of nervousness.
"If you could be still for five minutes I'd have had this done by now." Doc groused and his tallest patient went gratifyingly motionless, for about ten seconds. The pirate doctor sighed and kept working at the knot with calloused fingers.
Finally he was able to unwind the heavy cotton bandage from around the musician's head. A layer of gauze came off next, leaving only small pads over the man's eyes. They had been through this routine daily since Brook was injured, but today was different.
Doc examined the healing wound with a critical eye before nodding in satisfaction and addressing the unusually silent first mate. "That's gonna leave a nasty scar but I think it'll finish healing fine. You ready?"
Brook nodded, his mouth too dry to speak.
"Okay, I'm going to uncover your eyes and I want you to open them slowly." The doctor instructed.
The swordsman nodded again, pleased that the motion brought no pain in his head and hoping that was a good sign. He felt warm hands lift the gauze pads from his eyes, felt cool air against his eyelids for the first time in three weeks and took a moment to steel himself for whatever happened next before he carefully pried long unused lids apart.
Light assaulted him and he scrunched his eyes closed as they burned and watered. "Bright." He groaned.
"Sorry." Doc said and movement could be heard in the small room before he returned and placed a hand on one slim shoulder. "Okay, I dimmed the lamp and covered the porthole. Try again."
Brook hesitantly did as he was told, blinking as even the small amount of light from the low burning oil lamp seemed unbearably bright. However, even as tears streamed from his eyes he was smiling joyfully...because he could see the lamp.
"Doc...have I ever told you how beautiful you are?" He asked with a laugh.
"Hmph, so you're still blind then." The older man replied with a grin.
"Yohohoho!" Brook laughed heartily.
"Sit still and let me see your eyes." Doc ordered with a shake of his gray head.
"Only if I get to see yours too." Brook crowed happily.
"Idiot."
Brook shifted his sunglasses higher on his nose as he sat and watched his crew celebrate their latest victory well into the night; a cup of tea cooling in his long fingers. He was still getting used to wearing the dark lenses but it was a small price to pay for his the use of his eyes. Doc had also forbidden him from drinking alcohol with the pills he took for his frequent headaches; which was just as well since he never drank much anymore anyway. Brook actually thought most alcohol tasted terrible and preferred tea.
Doc said his pupils were blown, nearly fully dilated. They no longer reacted to light properly. He'd quickly discovered that bright sunlight caused him to be rendered almost totally blind and even lamplight caused him to have headaches. Doc had found the darkest pair of glasses he could get at the next town they made port in and the round lenses had quickly become a nearly permanent fixture on the lanky musician's angular face.
"Hey, Brook." A cheerfully inebriated voice crowed as a tanned arm was thrown over his narrow shoulders. "I made you something."
A flash of gold dangled before his eyes and the swordsman caught it deftly in his fingertips. "What is it, Drake?" He asked, turning to regard his crewmate in confusion.
Drake laughed and let the beaded bauble go. "It's for your glasses." He explained. "They're too plain, man. I thought they could use a bit more style, you know."
Brook carefully clipped the ornament to his glasses and grinned back at his nakama. "How does it look?" He asked pleasantly.
"Ridiculous! Just like the rest of you." Drake laughed. "Much better!"
Brook laughed as well and stood, pulling his gleaming violin from the case at his feet. "I think such a fine gift deserves a song." He announced. "Any requests?"
"Hmm, something I can dance to." Drake said, eying a pretty barmaid across the room.
"Yohoho. Good luck, my friend." Brook encouraged, raising his bow to the strings and improvising a lively tune as Drake made his way over to the blonde.
The tall pirate laughed and danced the rest of the evening with his rowdy crew, the flash of gold beneath his eye tinkling merrily as he moved.
The Rumbar pirates gathered around the table in the ship's large galley, unusually quiet for the generally boisterous and musical group.
The reason for the tension sat innocently in the middle of the table. It's bright green leaf and swirl covered skin were hardly threatening, but at the same time the akuma no mi seemed to exude a presence all its own.
"Do you really think that's the real thing?" One of the younger crewmen spoke up tentatively.
"Of course it's real, idiot. Can't you feel it looking at you?"
"Someone went to an awful lot of trouble to hide it. I doubt they'd have done that for a fake." Yorki pointed out evenly.
"What do you think it does?" A burly pirate almost whispered.
"Hmph, do I look like a scholar to you?" The captain snorted. "It doesn't matter much to me. I don't want it." He laughed at the idea. "I'll make you lot a fine offer though. Anyone willing to eat it right now, before we find out what it does, can have it."
Brook had remained oddly silent throughout the conversation, staring intently through his sunglasses at the oddly shaped fruit that they had found among the plunder at the end of a rather long and exhausting treasure hunt. He'd never seen one before and he found himself rather fascinated by the possibilities the innocuous piece of fruit presented.
The twenty nine year old had coped well enough with the limits of his damaged eyes, but more than once they had proved a liability in battle; as he was nearly completely blind during the day if he lost his glasses. Perhaps this akuma no mi could provide him with a power to balance out his handicap; if it didn't do something utterly useless like turn him into a pudding man or grant him control over lima beans or something. He'd heard some fruit powers were like that.
Still, when Yorki made his offer, Brook found himself rising smoothly to his feet almost before he had processed the decision to move. "I'll eat it." He announced with a grin. "I never liked swimming much anyway."
Yorki seemed slightly surprised but when no one else spoke up to challenge the towering first mate's claim, the captain nodded. "Okay, be my guest."
Brook reached for grapefruit sized, oddly shaped treasure with hands that shook just a little as he realized the possible magnitude of what he was about to do. The skin of the fruit was warm against his palm, despite the cool room. He lifted it to his face and peered over his glasses to see it more clearly; taking a moment to sniff it as well to see if the smell might give him some idea of how the rare food might taste but it offered no clues.
The swordsman shook himself slightly, before grinning at his nakama. "Itadakimasu." He said grandly before taking his first bite.
His long face scrunched up in disgust at the flavor; some mixture of rotting meat, ashes, and mold. The firm flesh of the fruit once he broke the skin had a faint scent like dried blood which added to the overall foulness of the experience.
However, having started eating, Brook had no choice but to press on; doing his best to swallow the vile substance without tasting it and failing miserably. It took a few minutes before he finished the final mouthful; setting the stem on the table as the crew watched him expectantly for any sign of what power he might have acquired.
Brook patted himself down and felt no change to his appearance which was something of a relief. He then closed his eyes and willed something to happen, half expecting his body to melt or his hair to catch fire.
Again, there was nothing.
"Hm..." He mused, thoroughly confused. "It seems it may have been a fake after all." He offered lamely.
There was a collective groan of disappointment from the crew and many of them shuffled off to do other things with the source of excitement now proven a failure.
"Are you sure you don't feel any different?" Yorki asked him curiously.
"Yes, Captain. I'm sure. I'll keep trying but I don't seem to have gained any sort of powers at all."
A few weeks later, Brook wrestled with the ropes securing the main sail, using every bit of strength he had to tie them off as the driving wind tried to rip the line from his hands. Rain battered the pirate ship and everyone scrambled to react to the sudden gale they had fallen prey to.
Brook shouted orders and helped out wherever he could but he was feeling strangely sluggish as the waves continually crashed over the railings and the storm picked up in intensity. Just as he was helping one of the cabin boys up from where the youth had slipped on the wet deck, an especially large wave washed over the side and crashed right into the distracted first mate.
Brook felt like all his muscles had turned to lead and he found himself at the mercy of the sea for a few terrifying moments. The wave receded from the deck after only a second or two; leaving the first mate sprawled limply against the deck. His legs had been dragged through a gap in the railing and he quickly realized the only thing that had kept the rest of his slender body from going into the ocean was the white knuckled grip of one very terrified cabin boy.
Said boy, James, the musician recalled tiredly, was yelling for help as he struggled to drag the nearly nine foot tall man further back onto the ship. He didn't have to wait long as Brook soon felt half a dozen more hands grabbing at his arms and shoulders, pulling him away from the greedy ocean and then lifting him carefully and bearing him into the infirmary.
By the time they had lowered him onto a bed, the tall pirate was beginning to regain the use of his long limbs. By the time Doc arrived, Brook had managed to sit up rather wearily and someone had given him a towel to dry himself off.
"What happened?" The gruff doctor asked.
"I'm not entirely certain." Brook admitted. "A wave hit me and...and suddenly I simply couldn't move." He frowned.
"You hit anything? Do you hurt anywhere?"
"No. I seem to be fine now, just a little tired."
The older man eyed the first mate for a few moments, checking his pulse and breathing and finding nothing out of the ordinary.
"Well...there's only one thing I can think of that causes the symptoms you describe."
"What is it?" Brook asked fearfully.
"That fruit you ate was real after all." Doc announced grimly.
"But how could that be?" Brook demanded. "I've tried for weeks to figure out what sort of power that thing might have granted me and I can't find anything. I've never heard of an akuma no mi that just made you unable to swim."
"Me either, which means it must do something else you just haven't figured out yet."
The musician ran a hand through his wet hair and sighed. "Well, then how am I supposed to know what it did?"
Doc patted the twenty nine year old on the shoulder. "We're due to make port in two days. Maybe someone in town will be able to recognize the fruit you ate from a description." He gave the tall man a gentle push to encourage him to lie down. "In the meantime, let the others handle the rest of the storm and try not to fall in the ocean."
Brook watched the old woman thumb through the thick tome she had dug from her dusty shelves. The bookstore was cramped and the ceiling was far too low to be comfortable for the pirate but he hunched into a rickety looking chair and waited patiently for the ancient proprietress to answer his question.
"Ha!" She crowed triumphantly, jabbing one bony finger at the page of her book. "I told you I could find it."
"So you did, Madam Renfreaux." Brook agreed with his most charming smile and a little bow of gratitude. "May I ask what you have discovered?"
The elderly woman adjusted her spectacles and cleared her throat before she began to read. "The Yomi Yomi no mi is a highly unusual fruit because it has no immediate effect on the user. In fact, the effect of this akuma no mi cannot be seen until the user dies or is killed. At that point the Yomi Yomi no mi is believed to create a tether that anchors the user's soul to their body. This allows the user to revive from the dead. It is unclear if this ability can be used multiple times by a single user, as all of the previous known hosts for the Yomi Yomi no mi have succumbed to the universal weakness of all fruit users and been claimed by the sea." She finished with a toothless grin at the tall pirate.
Brook took in the news with a flutter of excitement and a touch of trepidation. "I see. Thank you madam." He stood and bowed with a flourish, taking one arthritic hand in his long fingered one and kissing the back of it in a courtly gesture.
The elderly scholar giggled like the schoolgirl she once was and blushed. "Flirt." She accused lightly.
The tall man grinned unrepentantly as he straightened to as much of his height as the ceiling would allow and executed an elaborate bow. "You wound me madam. I was merely attempting to thank you for your kindness."
"And make me forget to charge you for the information." The sharp eyed matron grinned back knowingly.
"Yoho." Brook scratched the back of his neck and chuckled guiltily. "Ah, well I cannot say the thought had not crossed my mind."
"Five hundred beri, you scamp. Then you can take your flirting to the taverns."
Brook gamely handed over the promised fee and then ducked out of the small shop, jumping in surprise as the wily old woman squeezed his rear end as he passed her in the doorway.
"You can come back if you don't have any luck with the younger girls though." The grey haired lady winked and leered suggestively.
"Ah, Madam Renfreaux, that is a very flattering offer. However I have watch on my ship tonight so I must decline. My apologies." The musician backpedaled hastily as he hurried on his way. "Thank you again for the information."
The woman's teasing laughter followed the tall man down the street as he headed for the docks. He didn't actually have watch but he was fairly certain Drake would switch with him. After all, it was terribly rude to lie to a lady.
Life went on and for a time it was good. The Rumbar pirates would eventually take in a lost baby whale and name it Laboon. They'd sail to the Grand Line and Laboon would follow with childish loyalty. They'd make him a promise and leave him behind. Half the crew would fall to illness on the world's most dangerous ocean; including Doc and their beloved Captain Yorki, but they'd keep pressing forward on his final orders. They'd still sing, but some of the harmony was missing as they sailed away on their new ship.
Brook would reluctantly become captain and he'd eventually lead his crewmates almost halfway around the world. He'd become known as Humming Brook, with a bounty of thirty-three million beris on his afro-clad head.
Three years after entering the Grand Line, in the depths of the Florian Triangle, just a few weeks shy of the Redline; the Rumbar pirates would be wiped out by cowardly enemies using poisoned weapons.
Brook and his crew would defeat the enemy, but still lose their lives.
The lanky thirty eight year old had never experienced anything so painful in his life as hearing his nakama sing their final song. Captain Yorki's favorite, Bink's Sake; to hear it dwindling from a lively chorus to a solo piece as Brook was the last to succumb to the poison in his veins.
The tall musician struggled valiantly through the final lines of the old sea shanty; wanting the recording to be perfect for Laboon, on the hope that he really would revive and somehow make it back to keep the promise he had made to his final nakama. He could feel his heart slowing, struggling; and it was growing more difficult to breathe. Black spots swam in his vision as he sang the last few words and stopped the tone dial.
He felt himself falling from his place at the piano; but he no longer had enough control over his long limbs to stop himself.
He was dead before his body hit the deck.
The End...For Now.
Author's Note: I hope you all enjoyed it. I apologize for any typos I may have missed. Please review and tell me if you found any, and also what you thought of the story. I have a sequel up called Song of Bone, covering Brooks years as a skeleton alone on his ship.