Omake: A Task Completed
By: TheRealEvanSG
Ancient.
That was what the Mozart felt as it endlessly churned through the dead waters of the Florian Triangle. Over fifty years it had sailed to complete its late crew's task. It had wandered, destitute and forgotten by all but its single passenger, throughout the sea, that damned fog chilling its planks. Fifty years Mozart had suffered through the fog. Any lesser ship would've succumbed to the cold, icy whisperings and empty promises that it wrapped one's mind in by the second year. Even some of the more sturdier and loved ships, like the Puzzle Pirates', may have lasted only five. But the Mozart had a will to match its crew's, and so had fought the depressing fog daily for no less than fifty years.
Its planks were so worn and aged that if one happened to jump on its deck, one would run the very real risk of shattering Mozart's planks and fall through clear to the bottom of the ship. Decades of dust were piled on every surface, as numerous as Mozart's silent beggings to die at last. Long-dried rat dung hid, hard as bricks, in several different corners throughout the boat. Cobwebs clung to every corner and doorway, though neither the spiders that had spun them nor their descendants remained alive. If its crew had not died before it could achieve its Klabautermann form, Mozart's voice would've been as wrinkly as dried papyrus in the Sahara Desert. Ghost ship was not quite yet the most accurate term for the Mozart, but to those who didn't factor in the fact that its spirit was, against all odds, not yet dead, that term would seem to not even begin to cover it.
Cold.
It had been so long since Mozart had felt anything other than a deep, omnipresent cold that reached down to its very essence. Every day, it waged war with that cold, wrestling and clawing and biting to not be completely overtaken by it. Every day, the cold reached a little deeper. It made the Mozart so very tired, a terrible exhaustion unbecoming of a ship of cheerful musicians. It wished it could still feel its crew's undying energy, the kind that had never left them even as they recorded their very last song. Sometimes, Brook playing the song helped chase the cold away momentarily, but it wasn't enough to feel much warmth at all. The fog would always come back much stronger and harder after these times.
Lonely.
For fifty long years, the Mozart had not had anyone to talk to. In the rare times it and Brook had wandered next to another ship, it had either been bone-chillingly evil (it still shivered to think of Bark), or its spirit had long since died. It wanted so badly to talk to Brook, but the poor skeleton had no idea his ship was sentient and just as alone in the world as he was; and it had no physical form to speak with besides. And so alone it sailed, cursed and cold, for eternity in the ancient waters of the Florian Triangle.
Until the Mozart heard a song that it had never thought it would hear except from either a depressed skeleton's mouth or a Tone Dial.
It started quiet, a single, shaking voice that almost could've been mistaken with the omnipresent whisperings of the fog. The voice slowly grew stronger, and then it was joined with another, and the Mozart would've been breath-taken had it had any breath to take. The fog shuddered, rippled, and for the first time in fifty years, the ship felt the slightest bit of warmth. Another voice joined with the two already singing, then a fourth, a fifth, and a sixth, all the while, the song growing in strength as the voices grew in cheerfulness.
"-steady men, and never fear, tomorrow's skies are always clear..."
The fog, for the first time that Mozart had ever known it, was not cold nor whispering. In direct opposition to this, it was brightening, filling the area with warmth instead of the cold of the Underworld, and the ship finally felt cheerful again. Despite the fact that it was an old, dying ship hanging onto life by only the memory of its late crew, it lifted its head and for the first time, sang with all its heart. Its voice was silent, unheard by all but one shocked snail and a small girl who was not quite human, but it didn't care. Mozart sang with the joy and cheer of all its crew, happy for the first time in ages to be alive, happy to know that soon it wouldn't have to live any longer. It partied as hard as the Straw Hats and Sunny, enjoying the newly yellow fog. And at the end, there was only one overwhelming emotion that sagged its great shoulders when it heard the crew's acceptance of Brook and completion of his dream.
Relief.
