Human

AN: New classes, new college, new city. Trying to keep up with the writing, too. It's why this was delayed. I love the feedback. Glad people are enjoying it so far. It's going to get emotional. Oh, and from here on out, scenes and character's perspectives will transition several times through each chapter. In this case, Zoro to Brook. Usopp's next.

Chapter Two: The Princess Problem

Zoro's head hurt.

Also, he felt pity. Brook may not have liked that, but it couldn't be helped. The eight foot tall lanky musician sat on the deck steps, panting and sweating under the cloudless sky. Zoro gave him time. Usopp sat on the railing above, and he was kind enough to pretend that the workout had also winded him. Zoro admired that about him; the liar's skills in acting meant Brook's ego would only be slightly wounded, not devastated.

"That's enough for today."

Brook sagged—whether from relief, shame, or both.

"H-Hey," said Usopp, leaping down lightly from his spot. "Brook, you're going to need new clothes now, aren't you? Let's take a break and go into town to buy some! Yeah, it'll be fun!"

The swordsman took a moment to notice, for the first time, that their musician's attire actually did look tighter. He wasn't an expert on clothing, but he did at least knew that their resident skeleton had until this day found it irritatingly difficult to find clothing small enough to fit him. Most pre-made stuff just slipped right over his bones, and they'd had to resort to letting Nami raid the children's clothing section for the rare, occasional 'fits an eight foot tall kid' article. She had an extra nose hidden somewhere on her body that could smell one thing only: bargains.

And sure enough.

"I heard that," Nami's head turned towards them; she'd been sunbathing on a lounge chair on the deck with a book to cover her face. She lifted it up to glare at all three of them. "You're not going within ten feet of a clothing store without supervision."

"Then go with them," Zoro growled.

"Obviously, I'll have to. But I'm not buying you anything. In fact, I'm charging you both a five hundred belli fee for interrupting my rest."

"What!?" Usopp cried at the same time Brook chuckled mournfully.

"Yohoho, that is so harsh, Nami-san."

"Oh, stop making that expression. It's way too easy to get distracted by your pouting now that you have a face," Nami sighed as she stood up and stretched. "Sanji! Hold lunch for another hour! I'm going out shopping!"

"Yes, Nami-swaan!"

"Brook," Zoro said sharply, and the skeleton (former skeleton, he reminded himself—again) looked up at him with a downturned mouth. "You did fine. It'll be easier tomorrow."

Morale wasn't his area of expertise, either. But their musician needed it, and considering Zoro had lost count of the times Brook had been there to raise their spirits, it was the least he could do. In any case, he wasn't going to improve or get any stronger as long as he continued to let himself down.

The New World.

Luffy would never understand the seriousness of Brook's transformation. Of all the crew, only Franky seemed to think on the same level as Zoro. Considering Franky had turned his own body into a mass of machine and weaponry for the sake of the crew, it didn't surprise Zoro that the cyborg found Brook's change of physical appearance unnerving.

They needed more time.

Brook's heart thumped.

His cane took the royal position as his third leg, keeping him upright and steady as he traversed the docks with his two nakama. Nami-san and Usopp-san were so kind enough to pretend that he was not slowing them down, which only increased his affection for them. In fairness, he was almost too distracted to feel guilty. The soft whistle of air through his nose, the barely noticable sensation of sweat on his brow, the feeling of his padded fingers pinched together on the handle of his cane...

Overwhelming.

What would Chopper-san say, if he found out about their excursion? Somehow, he did not think the little doctor had a trip to a busy port city in mind when he ordered Brook's exercise.

"It's so busy here," Usopp-san observed to his left. The long-nose sniper had his hands clasped behind his head as he walked, stretching out his cooling muscles. "If we don't stick together, we'll end up getting lost. Good thing Zoro stayed behind, eh Brook?" He chuckled, sounding nervous.

"I wonder why there are so many soldiers," Brook replied distantly, not having heard Usopp's question. He stood, transfixed on the uniformed men who stood on nearly every corner of every building in sight. They all wore plain tan-and-blue, matching clothing and they were armed with rifles and pistols.

"Well, they're not Marines, and they're clearly ignoring us, so who cares?" Nami-san said, shrugging her arms. "Just don't bump into anyone. Sea ports this big are crawling with pickpockets."

As they moved into the main street, where the crowd of loud and boisterous citizens were thickest, Brook noted several more things. First, that his two nakama walked in front of him, but in a not-subtle V-shaped formation. This way, the crowd would not get near him. It was touching, though it added to the constant worry that he was becoming a burden.

Another observation: nobody looked at him. No one stared, gaped, gawked, or turned and ran in the opposite direction. There was no whispering, no pointing, no children frozen with fear and awe, no mothers hustling them away into doorways and alleys as he drew near. The fact that he had grown accustomed to that behaviour now made him feel ill. It was so very unsettling, to not draw any attention at all. It should have been a calming experience, yet it caused his heart to beat faster as anxiety crept in ever closer.

"Nami-san," he said, his voice dry. His voice, dry! If he drank water, it would feel better, surely. So very many things to remember to do—the human body was truly uncomfortable most of the time. He asked tentatively, "Do you know where we are going?"

"I know where we should be going," Nami-san replied. They stopped, and she folded her arms. "I've seen two clothing stores in the past five minutes and they're both boarded up, gone out of business. Look, there's another one."

Brook looked, and sure enough, there was a store just behind them on their left. It was named 'Ali King's Fine Tailoring', but the door was boarded shut. A notice was pasted on the boards too, though he could not read it from a distance.

"I hope you're not lookin' to buy clothes there, young miss," croaked an unfamiliar voice. It belonged to an old man, dressed in an apron with a broom in two hands. He stood on the threshold to his shop, a quaint little general store next door to King's Fine Tailoring. "We folks around here got to do our own mending and sewing. Them all tailors and seamsters work for the beautiful princess, y'see."

"The...beautiful princess?" Nami-san blinked incredulously at him. Brook took a moment to be glad Sanji-san had not come along. "All of them? How many princesses are there?"

"Oh ho ho, just one beautiful princess," the store owner replied, his aged voice strained. "Y'see, each day the beautiful princess gets to pick from three brand new dresses, which the tailors make the day before. We the people, we just couldn't bear the thought of...of the beautiful princess wearing the same dress twice."

There was no questioning the labour put into the elder's tone, and Brook knew why. Two of the closest uniformed guards were looking in their direction. Something cold broiled in his stomach—so peculiar—and it did not feel pleasant.

"Everyone makes their own clothes?" Usopp asked, his voice rising in pitch. "In this huge city?"

"That's right, fellow, and it's...it's just to show how much we people love our beautiful princess," stammered the old man. Wthout so much as a nod, he turned his back and vanished into his store.

"'Beautiful princess' this, 'beautiful' princess that," sighed Nami-san crossly. "First an island without doctors, and now a kingdom without clothes. It's as if every single island has a curse for spoiled, noble brats."

"H-Hey, Nami, that's not fair," Usopp complained. He was now sitting atop a barrel, leaning forward. "Shirahoshi was nobility, right? She's a nice princess. And Vivi! A kingdom couldn't ask for a better heir, and her father's a great person, too. Right?"

"Of course they are!" she snapped, and Brook began to feel as though he were slipping away again. He had heard his nakama speak of these things often, of a nakama they left behind, and a desert kingdom. Like a fairy tale, sacred history that he could not relate to. It made him feel queerly alien.

Nami-san huffed. "It would just be nice if there were more nobles like Vivi and King Cobra. Just forget it—we're obviously not going to find clothes for Brook if nobody can make them. Let's go back to the ship."

"Aw, but Nami, we just got here! I still have to buy fertilizer and rubber bands, and-"

Brook's attention waned. Not, of course, due to a lack of interest in his crew mates. No, he could not fully listen anymore, because of a melody that sliced through the din of the busy street. A sweet flute melody, impossibly loud for its delicate nature. He did not even notice that he'd wandered away from his nakama until he reached the corner of the street, and the source of the music came into view.

There were two musicians—one, a young girl of perhaps nine years of age, and a much older man. Though the girl was standing, playing her flute with an upturned felt hat at her feet, the older man reclined against the wall with his violin in his lap. There was no mistaking it—he was as pale, weakened and ill as she was vibrant and healthy. Nobody stopped to place coins in the mostly empty hat, and by Brook's professional judgement, they never would. Not unless the lovely solo became a duet once again. Her song, 'Elegant Summer' had been created as two halves of a whole. Not two parts.

For some reason, this made him miserable.

Because the waves made poor accompaniment for his violin. They did not even know the parts, and there could be no rhythm without a steady beat. He had no heartbeat! And the waves had no heart, and no fingers with which to pluck strings or beat drums.

"From the top!" he shouted into the suffocating fog, which gladly swallowed his hysterical laugh. And then it devoured his music without mercy.

"Brook!"

Usopp's voice jerked him into the harsh daylight, filled with welcome and empty warmth.

"Oi, are you feeling alright?" his sniper friend asked, genuine concern outpouring from his soul. To which Brook had to blink and unstuck his throat before he could respond.

"Y-Yes, Usopp-san," he chirped with a tight-lipped smile. "I heard a melody that brought back memories, that's all. Where is Nami-san?"

"Oh, she just went to buy materials. If we can't find new clothes, I can just alter the ones you already have. O-Oi, Brook..."

"Hmm?"

"What happened? There's a dark bruise on your face...?"

Surprised, the former skeleton raised his fingers to lightly touch the skin of his left cheek. Sure enough, a painful bruise had formed there, and he had not even felt it until now. "Ah, so there is," he mused, and chuckled. "Don't worry, Usopp-san. That happened during training with Zoro-san. This new body is still very delicate, yohoho!

The sniper scratched at the thick mess of black hair on his scalp. "Yeah...I guess. Maybe we should get you back to Chopper."

Brook knew he must agree—not that he felt particularly concerned about this mysterious, albeit minor injury, but he was concerned about what might happen if Chopper-san grew frantic. The kingdom guards' reception of visitors was colder than his Soul Solid. A rampaging reindeer doctor would simply agitate a potentially full-scale war with law enforcement.

"May I do one thing before we go?" he inquired of his nakama.

"Sure...uh, what is it?"

"Yohoho, it will just take a moment," Brook assured him, and gripping his cane tightly, crossed the street.

The nine-year-old talented girl stared up at him—very up—and ceased playing. Her blank, anxious stare was oddly comforting. Gently, Brook removed a hundred-belli note from an inner pocket and leaned forward to drop it.

She struck like lightning. It was only because he body was yet too fatigued to jump, that he remained still. The girl's hand closed tightly around his wrist the moment he released the note, and her grip was like an iron clamp.

"You. You're pirates," she hissed. Not an accusation. A statement.

Brook could only stare back from behind his tinted glasses. Their vast difference in height worked against him; he almost toppled over, and might have, if Usopp had not suddenly grabbed his shoulder to steady him. "Oi, oi, little girl!"

"You need to go," the 'little girl' growled fiercely; she was clenching her flute so tightly in the other hand that her knuckles were white. "Now. Don't come back."

And just like that, she released him. Brook wavered and steadied himself with the aid of his cane and his nakama's arm. "I'm fine, Usopp-san. Yohoho, I merely lost my balance again."

The nine-year-old was playing her flute again. To her, they might as well have turned into pigeons. Behind her, the old, sick man had dozed off with his arms limply curled around his violin.

Usopp-san swallowed loudly, transfixed on something behind his old nakama.

The lanky musician forced his cramped, tender neck to turn slowly, and pivoted himself to see the horror that had stricken his friend.

"Halt, pirates, in the name of the True King," said the stern royal officer, flanked by a half-dozen well-armed men.

The girl's flute seemed to grow even louder in Brook's ears, and his long dead nakama sang in every corner of his mind, rattling lose fears he'd long ago packaged away.

Elegant summer, thou fairest of land
Golden sweet meadows, and pearly white sand
Bring ye home unto me
Bring the summer light with thee

TBC