I don't know if this is any good. I'm kind of rusty, since I haven't really written anything in months. But I decided that I should at least write something, and this is the result. It'sa story thatcame from thin air just before midnight, andas stated before,I don't know if it's any good.
Could be seen as a slight spoiler for those who are unfamiliar to recent events involving the Going Merry...
Her strength
by KuroKame
Aboard the Going Merry, the caravel born outside Syrup Village that had just set out on her very first and grandest adventure, there were very few moments of complete silence. The motley crew had the strange ability to be noisy in everything they did, even in their sleep. Many nights, the male crewmembers wouldn't stop arguing with each other even as the clock in the galley struck midnight, or one or even three in the morning.
But she would listen to them, and she would smile deep inside. Once they had left the last island, prepared and with the five-man crew the captain had decided would be enough for their last journey on the Eastern Sea - the journey to the Grand Line - she had felt that the bond that held their crew together had become much stronger than before.
And the bond that tied her to the rest of them was gaining strength for each passing day.
She would listen patiently to stories told over and over again about where she came from, and about Kaya, who had made it possible for them to travel together like this. She listened to stories of the things done together with the kids back home, and about the lies told to Kaya to cheer her up. And while she listened to this, she smiled and wished that she could have been there as well.
She silently listened to the scratching of a quill against paper, sometimes long after the sun had disappeared below the horizon. And as she could hear the determination and pride in each drawn line on each new map that took form, she wished for the same feelings to guide her in the right direction as well.
She watched in awe as weights that looked heavy enough to break her if handled carelessly were swung to and fro with perfectly timed control and strength, and she wished that she could have a fragment of that strength in her as well.
She felt the wonderful scents of food prepared with skill and imagination every day, and listened with great amusement to the sounds of talk and laughter as the crew gathered around the table. But as the meals were eaten and the crew had scattered to do other things, she was perfectly happy just to listen to the legend of the sea where fish from all over the world gathered one more time while feeling the faint smell of tobacco dance with the wind around her. And she wished that she would get to see that ocean as well.
She would listen to the stories about another pirate crew, a crew and a captain far mightier and greater than any other seen in the Eastern Sea. She would look at the frayed straw hat, and remember the story of the promise made on that same hat, a story she had heard the first night the captain had been on watch, and she wished that she could let him know that she would like to make a promise on that hat as well.
A promise to be there for them; a promise to be strong and determined, even in moments of grave danger - a promise to see each sunrise and each sunset together with them for as long as she possibly could.
--
Aboard the Going Merry, the caravel who now barely remembered where she had been born anymore, there were very few moments of complete silence. She was indeed out on her grandest adventure, but she had also realized that nothing can go on forever.
Down in the cabin below deck, the male crewmembers still argued through the nights, and their female counterparts would sigh and stuff a few more pillows against the small hatch in the wall before going to sleep. But Merry would listen to them, and smile deep inside, as she always did.
She had listened to them all for a long time, and she had watched as they had struggled to heal her injuries after each tough battle against stronger and stronger enemies. But once they had fallen from the skies, she had noticed how they all, in the middle of a story or a carefully drawn grid of lines or just a long, comforting silence, would reach out their hand to run their fingers over the fading paint on her railing or one of the patched walls and ask her:
"How much longer, Merry? How much longer can you go on?"
And she would answer, not to their ears but to their hearts:
A little longer. I don't know where we're going, but I'll take you there safely.
After each day, they would go to sleep, leaving one or two to keep watch, not aware of even half of the decay slowly eating away at her aching body. A wave hitting the wrong place would easily create the wrong kind of tension, which had resulted in more than one cracked plank in her hull. But she would take care of it.
The next morning, that leak in the corner that no one had noticed yet would be fixed without anyone ever learning about it. And the badly mended railing on the port side would be stabilized without anyone finding out how it had been done.
She did it because she loved them, because of the promise she had made so long ago, and because her nakama were her treasure.
She had been strong for so long, and now she was determined to bring her precious treasure to shore one more time - no matter what happened to her after that. Until then, there would be at least one more sunrise to watch together with them.