It's a gorgeous night. Brook feels the wind sweep through his bones like a warm whisper and smiles to himself. No one else can tell he's smiling, of course, but he knows he's happy, and that's all that matters in the end.
He's been doing what he loves all night: Entertaining; Playing the piano and singing with a full swing band to back him up as jubilant party-goers swirl around him. This is where he feels the most alive that he can possibly feel, but he suddenly has a strong desire to leave the music to his contemporaries and mingle with the rest of the crowd at this elaborate affair.
It's a party, after all, and he would be foolish to spend his entire night tucked away behind the keys without having at least one dance with a friend.
Brook turns in his seat and scans the room looking for his crewmates. Franky and Robin are already twirling each other around on the dance floor, certainly no surprise there. They've been at it for what seems like hours now, Robin's subtle movements making Franky's outrageous gyrations look almost graceful. Nami has set up her own card table and is posing for what looks, on the outside, to be a legitimate poker tournament. But the house always wins, and Brook knows better than to bother her while she's running a scam.
Luffy is… quite literally swinging from the expensive chandelier in the middle of the room with an extremely distressed Usopp running around directly beneath him — also no surprise. Despite the occasional nervous glances Luffy's getting from all around, the captain seems to be having fun, so there'll be no stopping his momentum, whatever direction it may sway.
The other crewmates aren't directly visible at the moment, though Brook is certain Zoro will be holed up in a corner nursing whatever alcoholic beverages he can get his hands on. He's never accepted an offer to dance before, anyway. And Sanji is more than likely hovering over a stove and helping out the venue's kitchen staff. The man can never just enjoy food without involving himself directly in the process of its preparation, and if he isn't cooking, he's observing and learning. Brook can't fault him for doing what he loves.
That only leaves the dear (deer) Chopper as a possible candidate. Brook stretches up to his full height as he stands — well above all other heads in the crowd — and searches for his tiniest friend.
He finds him — he's hard to miss, after all — only, the good doctor isn't alone. There's an old, old woman sitting next to him, chatting away and drinking plum wine with a fervor that would put Zoro to shame. She's quite lovely in a time-weathered way and her sharp eyes give Brook the impression that her mind is as magnificent as the wickedly confident grin on her face.
Brook has to admit that his interest is certainly piqued, simply by the way that she carries herself. Just who is this woman? Chopper feels comfortable enough with her to hop into her lap and hug her tightly before scurrying off toward a crash that sounds distinctly like rubber and glass hitting the floor.
Brook decides to take his chance. If anything, the old woman looks like she could hold an interesting conversation, and Brook is sorry to say there isn't much of that on the high seas; People just don't talk to each other anymore, you know? He's afraid that he's beginning to run dear Robin's patience ragged with all his chin-wagging. Oh - not that he has a chin to wag.
Brook sidles up to the mysterious woman, silent as a ghost, and takes the now-open seat next to her.
"You know, I thought I felt eyes on me," she says before looking at him. "Or, well, whatever it is you have in that skull of yours."
"Yo ho! I suppose you've caught me then." Brook replies, already delighted at the deep raspiness of her voice. It's a fascinating sound. "My name is Brook, musician of the Straw Hat Pirates. I'm pleased to make your acquaintance, Miss…?"
She looks him up and down, brown eyes just as sharp up close as they seemed from a distance, scrutinizing his every angle. Then she reaches out her hand.
"Kureha."
Brook takes her hand in his and bows his head forward to kiss the back of it, only to think better of that at the last second (no lips, ha!). He decides to give her a firm handshake instead before she continues her introduction.
"And that's Doctor Kureha. None of that 'Miss' nonsense."
"Very well, M— ah, Dr. Kureha." Brook scratches at his afro while thinking of where to start with his new acquaintance. "I see you've already met our adorable doctor, Chopper."
Kureha barks out a laugh and tilts her bottle back, draining it leisurely before wiping her mouth with the back of her hand.
"I should hope so!" she chuckles. "I raised that damn kid."
"Oh?" This is news to Brook. As far as he remembers from the stories he's heard, Chopper lived with and was taught by a woman named Doctorine. Unless— "Would that make you the lovely Doctorine he's told us so much about, then?"
"Watch it, Carcass," Kureha warns with a finger pointed at where his nose used to be. "My ungrateful son's the only one allowed to call me that, understood?"
"Yes, of course," Brook complies in a hurry. "My apologies."
She sighs in wordless acceptance and looks out across the dance floor to where Chopper is bandaging up an unconscious Usopp while the captain stands aside, smacking him on the back and throwing out the occasional 'sorry 'bout that!'
"Tell me something," she says suddenly, her voice softer, quieter. "I know he misses his home, but... Is he happy, at least?" There's a new line running across her wrinkled forehead now as she looks at Chopper.
Brook hardly needs time to think about the answer to that. It's a loaded question, to be sure, but he isn't afraid to tell her the truth because he already knows it's exactly what she wants to hear.
"Yes, he is," Brook responds, voice going soft as well. "Exceedingly."
Kureha's thin lips turn up into a shadow of a smile then, and he thinks he even sees her sharp eyes grow a bit foggy with dampness, but Brook can tell her entire mood has changed for the better. That's when the most brilliant idea strikes him.
"My dearest Dr. Kureha," Brook stands and bows low to the floor, one hand extended toward the woman in front of him. "May I have this dance?"
The old doctor looks him up and down for a moment before shrugging and draining the rest of her plum wine.
"Sure. Why the hell not," She stands up and takes his hand, allowing him to lead her to the dance floor. "As much time as I've spent around cadavers, I can't say I've ever danced with one before, much less one that's nine feet tall."
"Well, my dear, now I believe you can."
He finds the doctor's off-color needling to be quite charming and refreshing. One would be amazed to find that most of the strangers Brook meets tend to tip-toe around the subject of his death, as though it's a subject to be avoided. As though it were taboo. It's quite ridiculous to try and skirt the subject of death when the person they're speaking with is, himself, a dead man.
"How's this gonna work, anyway?" Kureha asks, coming to stand directly in front of Brook. Even at well over six feet tall, she's still minified by the musician's sheer unnatural height. It's a bit awkward-looking, to be honest, and a difficulty Brook will admit to not having thought through beforehand.
"Hm. I suppose, doctor… if you don't mind, putting your left hand here. And then I'll…"
After some fumbling, speculating, and one very heated physics discussion, the two are able to find a comfortable position that allows them to dance freely, if not spryly. Still, with Kureha somehow ending up as the lead, they swing each other around the dance floor in a way not unlike how Franky and Robin were spotted dancing earlier.
They get into a groove as the band plays louder, hardly noticing anyone else in the room besides the person in front of them. Twirling, dipping, lifting, and bending as far as their old bones will allow either of them to go, the two finish the first dance laughing unabashedly like a couple of young children at play.
As the band transitions into the next song, a slower one now, they both decide this will be a good chance to catch their breaths. With Kureha still in the lead, they lean on each other and sway together, letting the soft sounds of a clarinet set their pace for them.
"You know, I've just realized something," Kureha speaks up over the music filling every corner of the room. "It's been decades since I've danced with anyone like this."
"Surely not," Brook protests. "A lovely young lady such as yourself exists and no one's asked you for a single dance in all that time?"
"Sweetheart, I'm 141 years old," she says with a snort. "And I haven't been out dancing since the day I turned 99."
Brook's feet stutter at this new information but, like a true professional, he regains his balance like nothing ever happened.
"141 you say? I must admit, I'm quite shocked," He hums. "To these old eyes, you don't look to be a day over 85. Though, therein lies the problem: I don't have any eyes!"
What serves to surprise Brook even further is when Kureha tilts her head back and lets out the most glass-shattering cackle he's ever heard before. It's magnificent.
"Tell me," she says, still wiping tears of laughter from her eyes, "how old might you be? I'm sure there's no way a pile of bones such as yourself can be any younger than 90."
"Right you are, my dear," Brook responds, giving his partner a slow twirl as the music allows it. "Perhaps I should be pestering you for life advice instead of dragging you up and down a dance floor like this."
"Hey, now, watch it," Kureha spins Brook around almost violently in retaliation as the music swells — yet still in rhythm — before catching him and resuming her lead as before. "If anyone's getting dragged around here, it's you, Carcass."
"Ah— yes, ma'am," Brook manages to squeak out, lightheaded from the thrill of that unexpected spin.
"At any rate," the doctor says, looking sly, "would a young'un such as yourself be interested in learning the secret to my youthfulness?"
"Yo ho ho! I'm afraid it would do me no good." Brook laughs as he's dipped nearly all the way to the floor and pulled back up again. "Regardless, if you tell me outright, then it won't be much of a secret anymore, now will it?"
"Well. I suppose not," Kureha chuckles along with him.
As the music tapers off, the two finally separate and Brook, ever the gentleman, bows to his dance partner one final time.
"Kureha, my dear, you make for splendid company," he says straightening up and catching his hat before it falls from its precarious perch on top of his afro. "I hear the piano calling to me now, but I do hope we have this opportunity again sometime."
"Yeah. You're not so bad yourself, Cadaver." Kureha places her hands on her hips and cracks that wonderful, wicked grin at him once again. "Do promise me one thing before you leave, though."
"For you, ma'am? Anything."
"Take care of my idiot son." Her eyes, sharp as ever, focus on something just past Brook's protruding hipbone. "And take care of yourself too, kid."
"Doctor, you have my word," he says. "And dead men never lie."
With one last crooked flash of teeth, she turns away and disappears into the crowd, and Brook realizes she never once inquired about his fateful meeting with Life and Death themselves, as so many have before. Perhaps that's a secret the good doctor wants to find out for herself. Or, perhaps she simply forgot to ask.
Ah, well. There's always next time. After all, life is long and full of surprises.