Disclaimer: The infamous "Humming Brook" has letters inside his skull that says "Made by Oda" not in China and certainly not by me.
Brook in…
Dead Friend
Brook was used to being looked at with apprehension, fear or even terror. That was what came with the consequences of his Yami Yami no Mi and the misdirection of his soul that was worse than the green-haired swordsman's inability to navigate, in his opinion. The constant cries of there being a living, walking talking skeleton or "a servant of the Devil," was routine and Brook didn't react from crowds edging away from him. He was who he was, that hadn't changed with the loss of a flesh and skin body.
However, he did notice that, as the got further into the Grand Line and approached the New World, people weren't so panicked by the sight of him. The terror had faded in a vague apprehension that had been adopted as a common emotion among those surrounded by all sorts of things defying nature.
This was demonstrated once again as a young girl tugged at her mother's sleeve, "Hey, look Mommy! There's a skeleton with an afro!"
The mother gave Brook a suspicious glance that bordered on annoyance and ushered the girl onward.
"That's nice, dear. Hurry up, now."
Unperturbed, the gentlemanly skeleton moved on to a shop selling takoyaki. He was planning to order some of the delicacy, until he noticed the young woman at the stand.
"What would you like sir?" she asked with a smile, not at all frightened by him, yet another prime example of being numbed to freakish going on.
Brook looked thoughtful, tapping his chin when he suddenly knew what he wanted. "May I see your panties?"
Four minutes later, Brook made haste, without glimpsing panties or buying takoyaki, and nursing a large bump on his head where the girl hit him with a frying pan.
"Ah, maybe it's time I did what I came for," he resolved.
He reached down and retrieved his violin case as well as his cane. Of course, while at port, the musician had to take advantage of more than just pretty girls. His sword was of need of proper cleaning tools as he couldn't continue borrowing Zoro's and his fellow swordsman had recommended what he needed.
Now, if he could find a katana shop… Brook wandered the streets for a little while before he came to a window with beautiful katana displayed. They were so sleek and well kept that he couldn't help, but admire them.
Striding in, he decided to take better care of his own sword so it wouldn't look like a peasant besides nobility like those swords.
It didn't take long for the skeleton to find a polishing kit that was good quality and cheap enough he still had ten beri left afterward. During the transaction, the shop keeper had watched Brook with wary eyes, as if he was waiting for the suspicious- looking stranger to draw his weapon, cut him down and burn the surrounding houses.
These people aren't very trustful, Brook mused. I guess I'll have to be on my best behavior.
They were good intentions and the musician was as polite as could be.
"Thank you for your services, sir," he bowed.
But the man behind the counter wasn't impressed and his tense face became even stiffer.
Finally, he had enough of Brook's presence and snapped, "Whatever. You can leave now." With that, the man practically shoved the change into his skeletal hand, careful not to actually touch him.
Thoroughly confused and taken aback by the unexpected hostility, Brook bowed one last time, collected his purchase and belongings and left the store.
As the door swung shut, he could still hear, "And don't come back!"
Brook didn't look back and continued a brisk pace. I wonder what I did wrong, maybe it's time to leave-
His thoughts were cut off as he heard the sound of music playing at a fast, carefree tempo usually reserved for jigs and other dancing songs. And Brook's knowledge of music extended far enough to tell the one who was playing was in between that of an experienced amateur and newbie pro.
Sure enough, when the skeleton came to the end of the last rows of shops he saw quite the festivities in a grassy square, surrounding a large, stone fountain spewing crystal clear water.
Dancing all over to the playful tune was a bunch of happy-go-lucky children. They were presumably from the port town itself, though Brook spotted some in ragged farmer's overalls that had a wilder and less domesticated appearance.
Well, if two separate types of folks, if just kids, can get along so well, this town can't be too bad, he revised his thoughts, preferring to be optimistic.
He watched the kids dance, holding hands or moving how they saw fit, content to view for the time being. It was the musician's theory and, possibly those in his crew who thought about such things, that one of the only reasons Brook had managed to stay somewhat sane while being adrift at sea all alone for 50 years was his optimism.
The very optimism that mirrored the youths jovial attitude towards life and shown in their round, smiling faces.
Of course, the thought of the Rumbar Pirates and their promise to Laboon who's completion now rested solely on his shoulders fueled Brook, but alive or animated bones, he hardly frowned upon anything or anyone. He preferred to celebrate, sing his heart out and make music for others to enjoy. That was why he had joined his old crew for they appreciated the goodness of living as much as he.
Yet, Luffy and the others were similarly driven to get the best out of what was thrown at them, if for different reasons. They still enjoyed music and their partying like the Rumbar Pirates, perhaps even too much, but the Straw Hats… uniqueness still left the skeleton wondering if they were really pirates to this day.
Their reasons for banding together in a crew that had somehow become so close-knit despite some obvious extremes in personality and goals were so entirely different from the next that it was against every rule and expectation of marauders of the sea since ancient times. Brook had been a self-proclaimed "good" pirate, as had his previous crew, but this was a new level.
Who would have thought that their dreams could range from making a map of the world, to finding the True History, to becoming the Pirate King?
It was unthinkable in hindsight, yet now Brook merely laughed, went with the flow and added his own dream to the bizarre mix. However, what the general public may not notice past the general impossibilities of the Straw Hat Pirates was the way they, almost unconsciously defended their crewmates' dreams as if they were their own. At this point it was as if all their goals had become pieces of a whole, and if one was threatened or deemed extremely difficult to reach they would fight until everything was in place. No one would get left behind and no one would be subjected to losing what he or she lived for.
At least, that was what Brook had observed since he'd become their nakama.
"Mister? Oi, Mister? Would you like to play with us?"
A small, blue- eyed boy with hair the color of straw tugged the tall, gangly skeleton away from his contemplative mood. He couldn't be a day older than six.
His foot had been tapping to the music for a while and Brook knew he couldn't decline the offer. "If you would have me, I'd love to."
As the giggling boy dragged him into the crowd of children, the musician could no longer resist his urge to join in the merry-making. After all, it was where he belonged, the place of most happiness.
0~0~0
Despite Brook's frightful appearance, the town and country kids took to him like fish to water. There was none of the tenseness or suspicion that the adults had and the skeleton found himself relaxing as well.
He danced right along with them, the sound of his bones clacking with laughter. Once, a little girl tripped, fell and scraped her knee. Only Brook opening his scalp for all to see stopped her from crying amid the shock, then giggling. Eventually, the other musician, a tall skinny boy playing a wooden flute, asked him if he would join him.
"Yohoho! It would be my pleasure!" Brook agreed heartily. He opened the case, pulled out his violin and set bow to string. A melody bespeaking warm summer days and full bellies floated through the air. For a moment, the younger children stopped in their dancing to stare and listen, but before long, they got to move again.
Beside him, the teenage boy smiled shyly at Brook and struck up his flute to match the tune. In turn, the skeleton quickened the beat and the duet played on into the dusk.
However, their celebration of nothing in particular came to a jaw- breaking end. It all started with a petty rule, but a rule nonetheless.
The sound of dozens of feet alerted the group and time slid to a standstill. Brook's partner in music stopped playing and fear passed across his face. His instrument had been stilled, just like that.
But, Brook was not so easily stopped.
Voices rose above the silence that now issued from the children, who all stood and watched a crowd of people approach. "There! That's the one!"
Without pausing, he looked at the cluster of people to see a vaguely familiar man, the very one who had spoke. He was the hostile owner of the sword shop down the street, Brook remembered.
A mutter rose through the adults, before several began to stand out from the others.
"I thought he was bad news, being bones and all."
"Doesn't have the decency to stop his noise-making…"
Finally, "Don't you know about the century old decree?"
"I'm afraid not, sir," Brook tipped his hat to the gaunt man who had asked the question.
Indeed, he had no idea what they were referring to and even as they tried to explain it made little sense.
"Stop your violin, vagrant!" one shouted. "You're under arrest for carrying that there sword!"
Brook looked down at his sheathed katana, looking very much more like a cane than a killing tool. He could tell by the shopkeeper's smirk, though, that he had told the citizens of this town all about it.
Of course, the skeleton's inability to know one could not carry a sword around without a written permit by the town leader or in the streets made no difference. Now, he could see that, even though they had a store specializing in katana, there was not a single person with such a weapon at their side, laden with hoes and shovels as they were.
It didn't prevent them from beginning to surge forward, but something did.
"Don't!" Or someone. In fact, it was the young girl who'd fallen earlier. There were tears in her eyes, starting to run down her cheeks and the pink ribbons in her hair seemed to droop with sadness. "Don't hurt him!"
A man wearing a deep, permanent scowl didn't even hesitate, "Why you little bitch!"
"Ah-!"
The slap resounded across the mass of people, adults and children. Even the mob behind the man acted stunned as the girl was sent into the dirt, a red mark clear on her pale skin.
This made Brook's music stop.
Eyes could not follow him as he skipped from standing posed with his instrument frozen in his hands to stepping behind the offending man and already sheathing his katana. His split second between disappearing and reappearing made the crowd take a step back.
"Humming… Six Feet." Brook practically whispered.
His target had been paralyzed with fear, unable to move when at first it seemed nothing happened to him. The realization hit just as his body arched and a stream of blood spurted from a chest wound that hadn't been there a second before.
One glint of metal and his sword was a cane again. "Ack!"
He crumpled, and Brook helped the quietly weeping girl up.
For several heartbeats, the others didn't no what had occurred either or who had done it. But, one of the thugs was bright enough to realize there was only one person armed with a katana and only one "enemy."
"Get'im!" They all took up the primal cry, fueled by the act of violence even as they stepped over their fallen comrade. They were a collective whole, thinking as one beast with a single driving instinct. Brook severely doubted they would stop at merely capturing him now.
So he viewed his options, picked the one with the least consequences and blood spilled (which wouldn't be his because he had none) and turned on his heels. Before Brook sped out of there at full speed, he set the girl who had tried to protect him with the other children.
"I won't get you involved any more, miss," Brook, stated firmly. He turned to the oldest, the boy with the flute. "Take care of her and the rest."
He nodded, a determined fire in his youthful eyes. When need be, the timid would stand tall.
Just as Brook was prepared to leave, a small voice reached the skeleton.
"Thank you, mister. Please don't die. Promise?"
His customary laugh spilled out. "If you stay safe, it's a promise!"
Then, he ran.
0~0~0
He didn't stop, he couldn't stop, and in the distance he could always see the bob of lanterns and torchlights used in the deepening night.
The thing was, though Brook fled like a criminal, one who had injured another for he had avoided the vital organs, he did not feel like one. Why?
Because the gentlemanly skeleton with a slightly perverted side had morals, some concerning women, like Sanji, and others. The kind that simply dealt with matters of right and wrong. And Brook had always known striking anyone unarmed, especially a defenseless child was something committed by the lowest of the low.
To say he acted on instinct would be an understatement. He didn't need to think, the answer was obvious and the girl came before the likelihood the mob would be out for his blood later on.
Yes, Brook did not regret his decision, even if he was quickly becoming tired. But he did regret not thinking this through. He held his hat on his head to keep from blowing off while he held his case and violin with the other hand. Brook was tempted to wait for the men to catch up and try to negotiate. Possibly make it up to them in some way like community service or going to prison for a few days if it struck their fancy. He'd have to explain that the scowling man from earlier was, in actuality, not dead.
Brook went to the trouble of pondering all this for a reason. He did not consider his pursuers enemies.
They really weren't compared to his experience with those who were dangerous and wanted his dead. Such men could just be described as restless townspeople who had, perhaps been too stressed of late or had a bit too much alcohol at the local bar. Their misguided anger didn't warrant brusque actions did they?
Ah, Brook halted for a moment to take a breather behind an old barn amid the tall grass a little ways outside the town. It made hiding significantly easier, though the lanterns continued to creep closer right above the waving blades.
Sweat beaded his brow and he mopped it with a handkerchief. He really should've stayed out of trouble and headed right back to the ship. His righteous actions only seemed to lead to situations like this where he had to wrack his mind for the best solution. It seemed as if Brook had inherited his crewmates' knack for being chased and causing mischief, though the rubbery captain was usually the worst and had it down to an art. If the musician had been more reckless, he would have done what Zoro, Sanji or some of the others did in these cases and fight his way out of it.
Now, he would never admit this aloud, but Brook was marginally proud of his more cool-headed dealings when things happened. They needn't forget that he was a good amount older than anyone else on board and had a lot of experience. But, like he said, he wouldn't admit it, because even with that experience it was hard to stay calm.
Especially after Brook turned his head to look around the side of the barn to see where his pursuers were now, saw nothing and then glanced back to notice a sharpened stake at his throat.
"Not so clever now, are we?" a voice sneered from the side, most likely the owner of the stake.
Brook swallowed best he could with the weapon at his neck. When he'd been recuperating, he hadn't noticed the bobbing lights get so very close that now the lanterns and torches hovered in the hands of many angry men inches behind the first. "W-wait! I'm sure there's a better means to resolve this-"
"Shaddup!" rakes and stakes bristled menacingly with the cry. "We gonna gut you like you did our buddy!"
The skeleton glanced doubtfully at their weapons. They seemed to forget that, though they were armed, so was he and significantly better. His cane was still within reach, but he was reluctant to use it.
"I don't want to hurt you," Brook sorrowfully admitted.
"Hurt us? Hurt us?" a bald man began to cackle. "You couldn't do anything, not even a scratch!" Chuckles rolled through the mob, they were, once again, forgetting that Brook was much more capable then he looked, being a skeleton and all.
He was so torn that he didn't even point out that he had no guts to be gutted of.
But, Brook didn't need to think long and hard about whether he wanted to live or die by these men's hands. He snatched his cane doubling as a katana while the mob was distracted and proceeded to unsheathe and lunge forward.
After the initial surprise of their "helpless" prey suddenly attacking them, the people fought back, rather pathetically with their stakes and garden tools that were easily cut in two. Brook slashed and parried through the disorderly men, always just out of reach of their hungry clutches. His movements were akin to a wild dance, light, yet lethal, similar yet drastically different to dancing with the children.
When every one of them lay prone on the ground, Brook slid his sword back into its disguised sheath.
"It's only flesh wounds," he reassured, more to himself than the groaning men, quite obviously still alive. "I'll be going now-"
The unfortunate swordsman didn't make it far when something hard and heavy collided with the back of his head in a vicious down wards strike. As he folded under the blow, Brook could hear the laughter and his words.
"You're going to rot in the ground! Again and again!"
His last thought before the darkness closed in was, I shouldn't have tried to reason with animals…
0~0~0
It was dark, was the first thing he realized. The second and third were noted soon after, it was cramped and stuffy, followed by panic rising in his chest. Brook flailed around for several moments until he realized it was getting him nowhere, only making his claustrophobia much worse much faster.
So, while his eyes, or eye sockets, slowly adjusted to the lack of light, he stayed still and tried to sort out his thoughts. Even before he could begin to see the shapes, Brook's underlying instinct told him what had happened.
His body was erect, stretched out and stiff, there was no room for moving it was so snug. He was confined on all sides by a sturdy wood and there was a very noticeable absence of air, which would later worry the skeleton the most, but for now… he had to hold in a scream because as ironic as it may be he had been buried alive, or dead, depending on how you looked at it.
He was in a coffin!
Brook turned his head frantically looking for anything that might deny that blazingly evident, if cruel, truth. And it wasn't the comfortable, cushioned kind either, though why the deceased would need such comfort was beyond his intellect.
The awful contraption, Brook had never liked the look of them and would rather be cremated than left to decompose in the earth in a box, fit him to the last nail, which made him wonder if it had been crafted with his exact measurements in mind.
This notion made a shiver run down his spine, quite literally. However, that was impossible. Perhaps, Fate itself had predicted this turn of events. He'd arrived in town earlier just this morning. Had it really been that recently? It felt like eons away, which brought Brook to wondering just how long he'd been down here. With no way of telling time unconscious or awake, days could have passed.
What about his nakama?
Taking slow, soothing breaths, Brook moved his hand around, searching for his belongings using touch where his sight was greatly impaired. There was a slim chance that the men who had put him here had left his sword and violin in the ground as well, but he continued to probe the cracks of the walls best he could.
Minutes he estimated, ticked by painfully slow, and the coffin appeared not only airtight to keep the earth out and the dead in, bad news for him, yet it was seamless, the crevices could not have hidden any of his things.
That is what he assumed until his hand ran across the left wall and the wood pried away in his fingers. It all happened so fast Brook only had time to cover his eyes as smoke poured into the small space. That wall had seemed different, maybe partly hollow, but he hadn't expected this.
When the dust cleared and his coughing faded, Brook moved his arm to see a gaping hole in the wood and right beneath it a faintly glowing, grinning skull.
"Ahh, a skeleton!" Brook shrieked at the top of his lungs.
The hairs in his afro stood on end and his scream lasted until his breath ran out. Only then could Brook double take and review the sight with some semblance of calm.
In actuality, the hole was not a hole, if that made any sense. It was a compartment, an extension of the coffin Brook was trapped in and that skeleton had been stuffed in there. From the clean, dusty bones it had probably been inside and unmoving for a long time. Maybe a disrespectful undertaker had tried to reuse his resources and make this coffin extra thick with a smaller section for two bodies to fit instead of one.
Or this unlucky fellow was moved to make room for Brook. He shivered again. Now, he was in a coffin and sharing it with a dead man. If anyone believed him if he got out alive, this would be one heck of a story to tell and it wasn't over yet.
Brook peered into the compartment, but it was pitch black. Nothing else smiled back at him as this dead guy liked to do. He was unable to express his relief in a sigh.
That's when some of his luck returned.
Tucked in the grasp of the pale skeleton, were his katana and his violin case. It was a rather clever idea that would match with the musician's theory of the mob relocating the other body. However, Brook got an image of the townspeople having trouble fitting it by his side and opting to shove it in the hidey-hole instead.
With a skeletal smile, Brook grabbed his rediscovered possessions and pulled. But, they didn't come away in his hands like he had expected, the skeleton clung to them greedily. They were stuck.
No big deal, right?
Unfortunately, he had little room to get the leverage that appeared to be needed to free the sword and instrument from the dead man's grip. Though, Brook disliked the idea of touching the body more than necessary, he could move past that if determined. He just had to solve this new conundrum.
Another test that kept on being tossed his way like scraps of unwanted meat.
Yet, Brook's optimism knew no bounds, and jaw set he wiggled and turned carefully. He went about this method until he put all his decimated power into one last tug and… hit his head on the ceiling.
He slumped back, half lying half sitting in his awkward position.
Crossing his legs Indian-style, Brook faced the pile of intact bones and bowed, hands in his lap and no longer fighting a useless battle.
"Please, Skeleton-san. Return my things," he pleaded, using the name that he himself was called on occasion.
As if the deceased man had actually heard his forlorn plea, the bony fingers released its captured treasure and Brook was able to slide them out. He was cautious not to damage the fragile body, knowing how easily bones broke first hand.
Placing his cane and violin beside him, he looked at the ceiling coffin, then back to the skeleton. It grinned in a way that had seemed mocking at first, but was now oddly comforting.
He smiled in return and contented himself with high hopes.
"Well, we'll just wait it out then, shall we? I'm sure someone will find us soon…"
0~0~0
On his daily rounds, the petty gravedigger, who also doubled as a similarly petty thief of the same graves he unearthed, was unsuspecting of anything above the norm. The most of his worries was the usual getting caught and thrown in jail for being the criminal he was, but that was nothing compared to what was in store for him.
The monotonous sound of a shovel hitting dirt and throwing it to the side countless times echoed through the cemetery. He'd selected a nameless grave this time. In fact, there wasn't even a simple headstone, just a mound of soil that communicated that there was a casket underneath. Also, good for him was that it looked fresh, newly overturned so it wouldn't look suspicious when he refilled it.
It was common knowledge among others of his "profession," that you went about your job quickly and quietly, and in the dark. Lesser known, but just as important, was that you avoided labeled and visited markers and you never dared to rob a tomb. If the grandest of resting places were disturbed then the chances of being caught skyrocketed. He wouldn't get his body parts to sell on the market nor the pocketfuls of money that came with them.
Clang!
When the metal spade of shovel hit something, the gravedigger grinned crookedly and began to dig with renewed vigor. His anticipation grew until a simple, wooden coffin was revealed by the moonlight.
Tossing his shovel by the pile of soil he'd removed, he jumped into the newly dug hole, not too deep thankfully and plunged into the task of detaching the lid.
Five minutes and a sweaty thief later, the last nail came loose with a distinct pop, almost like it was happy to be free of its bindings. He wasted no time in sliding off the lid and peering in to view his future riches.
His heart sank. Two skeletons were all that greeted his greedy peepers. It was the fresh corpses with mostly intact innards that fetched the highest prices. Bones could be ground into medicine, but it was much less in demand. Those hopes had been crushed.
But others had been awakened.
At first, the gravedigger noticed that the two sacks of bones were in strange positions. In his decade and half of pilfering graves he had never seen bodies overlapping each other in the same casket. He hadn't seen them shift oddly and realistically as he watched either. Wait a minute…
"Oh! Look! Someone has come to our rescue! I told you so!" the taller skeleton glanced up at the man and appeared to address the other scolding, yet amiably.
"Wha-wha-?" he couldn't get his tongue or mouth to work.
He hadn't moved by the time the skeleton, clad in a suit and afro gathered up a cane, case and his bony friend. Only as he climbed out of the coffin and walked over to him, did the gravedigger manage to twitch a stunned muscle.
When the walking skeleton reached him, his eyes had bulged to the size of soft balls and his body was trembling.
The nightmarish creature grinned and clapped him on the back as if he were an old friend. "Thank you very much, sir for freeing us from that horrific place!"
And with that he left the hole that had been dug and walked on his merry way, still chatting to the second unresponsive skeleton.
A half hour later and the gravedigger remained staring at the site where he'd seen a dead man with no flesh to speak of, just up and leave. His mind eventually processed it and he ran away crying bloody murder.
Though he underwent many different treatments, he was never the same.
0~0~0
Being stuck in a coffin for what seemed like years hadn't changed Brook much. He was optimistic as usual and determined to succeed and survive; they tended to tie in with the other.
However, after the incident where the musician returned to the sunny with a skeleton in his arms his nakama couldn't help but wonder what the hell had happened while they weren't looking…
Even odder was when Brook proceeded to try to walk onboard holding the thing as he conversed in a normal tone with it. He didn't make it far.
Their decision was anonymous.
"YOU'RE NOT BRINGING THAT ON THE SHIP!"
Outvoted, Brook had no choice, but to bend to his crewmates' will. However, he did get in an extra word with his new friend.
"They just don't understand," he confided.
He set the skeleton down and the skull grinned back like always. "Yeah, they never do."
0~0~0
Author's Note: Did I scar you for life? Because if I did, I think I deserve a pat on the back. Hopefully you won't end up like that poor chap of a gravedigger. So there you have it! The very last installment of Bizarre Scenarios! Now, don't go asking for more young'uns. Nah, I'm finished with this, but I'm not ready to hang up my pen-ahem- keyboard, yet. The last mystery story promoting this collection will be up as soon as humanly possible.
Enough stalling. How'd you like it? Is there something you'd like me to change? Any edits or suggestions? I will be going over every section to edit afterwards. I know I enjoyed writing this and I hope you did too.
Off the top of my head, I would say my favorites our Zoro's, Usopp's and Brook's stories. Though, I like the others as well. Don't be shy in telling me whose POV I wrote in you liked best. Enough feedback and I'll use it in my future stories. Thanks again for the support to get me through my longest fan fiction yet, and for those who have been consistently reading and reviewing you have my utmost gratitude, you know who you are! ;)
Arigato, my friends! See you soon!