Archive of Our Own ^beta

Brook had never paid much attention to string. It was important for the functioning of many instruments, sure. But it was just that, one part of a larger whole.

String held things together, or, in the case of instruments, made them sound beautiful. That was easy to see with some instruments, like the violin or the guitar. Without string they simply wouldn’t function.

It was harder to see with the piano. You had to lift the lid to see that it even used string at all. Yet, without it, the piano would be completely useless as an instrument. Unless perhaps you wanted to use it as a makeshift drum.

It wasn’t until Yorki walked into Brook’s life that he saw string as any more than that.

Yorki loved string. Strings, yarns, even rope. Anything that he could work on with his hands. He was almost always making something, whether that was weaving a larger project or tying different knots on a length of rope. Brook didn’t get it, but if it made his captain happy then he was happy too.

At some point, Yorki had roped Brook into learning how to work with yarn. He wasn’t sure when it had happened, just that it had.

Brook wasn’t very good at weaving, or at tying knots, but he tried. If only because it made Yorki so happy that he did.

Brook’s wings twitched against his back. They were large and batlike, with turquoise wing membranes. The back of his wings was mostly black but had purple along the outermost edge. Brook grumbled halfheartedly at the mess of yarn in his hands that was supposed to be forming into the shape of a square. Instead, it looked like a lopsided, top-heavy rectangle.

Yorki laughed bright and loud at Brook’s side. His wings shook as he did, an abundance of fluffy white feathers that made it look like Yorki was permanently attached to a cloud. They had a slight iridescent sheen. Yorki grinned at Brook, a smile brighter than his wings. “That’s a nice parallelogram you got there, Brook. I believe you’re supposed to be making a square though.”

Brook rolled his eyes. “Oh, shut up.” He knocked his arm against Yorki’s shoulder. “You know I’m no good at this. Just show me again.”

Yorki laughed but obliged, scooching closer to Brook till their wings touched and going through the steps again. Brook followed the best he could, but his project didn’t look half as good as Yorki’s once finished.

Brook didn’t mind, though. It was just one of those absolute truths. Yorki loved to weave, and he’d always be the best weaver on the ship.

(Mornings were usually full of music, even if Brook was the only morning person. Honestly, this whole crew sleeps like the dead.)

(“Brook, play someth’n… morningish.” Yorki blinked blearily, leaning over the rail of the upper deck with a toothbrush in his hand.)

(Brook hummed. I could do ‘With You’ or ‘Bink’s Brew’… Maybe ‘Together Forever’…? “Any requests?” He asked.)

(“As long as it isn’t ‘Black Handkerchief of Happiness’, I’m good with anything.”)

When mornings were quiet, they were best faced with a cup of hot tea. Preferably fruit flavored.

Yorki had introduced Brook to the stuff, saying he knew Brook would love it while wearing the most wide, suspicious smile Brook had ever seen.

He’d tried it anyway. Yorki was up to something, but it wasn’t like Yorki would poison him.

The tea was delicious.

Brook squinted suspiciously at Yorki. “What did you do?”

“Did you like it?”

“I loved it. One of the best things I’ve ever tasted. What did you do?”

Yorki all but collapsed into a fit of laughter.

Okay, now Brook was very suspicious. He squinted into his tea. “Yorki,” He warned. “If you kill me with tea I will be very disappointed.”

Yorki only laughed harder.

(Brook found out later that Yorki had stolen a book about bats from Ohara when they visited. And had learned everything he could about the creature Brook’s wings were like: Noivern. So far Yorki seemed to be bent on using that information to tease Brook relentlessly.)

(Brook only found out about the book after Yorki showed it to him, grumbling that his jokes weren’t landing right since Brook knew next to nothing about Noivern.)

(The teasing was a bit funnier once Brook understood it. Which was sort of nice, even if he never wanted to hear the phrase ‘blind as a bat’ again.)

(The fact that the ship hadn’t run out of fruit tea since the book had arrived was much nicer, though.)

Brook leaned over the rail of the upper deck. Yorki was sitting on the main deck pulling apart a project with quick fingers. He did that a lot. It seemed so easy to him, like second nature. “Why do you do that?”

Yorki started, looking upwards with wide eyes. He grinned once he saw it was Brook. “What was that?”

Brook waved a hand at Yorki’s rapidly unraveling project. “Why do you do that? You put so much work into them. Why unravel them?”

Yorki grinned. “So I can do it again.”

“But why?” Brook tilted his head. “That one was beautiful.” And Yorki had been working on it for days. Honestly, he couldn’t understand his captain sometimes.

Yorki shrugged. “Beautiful things don’t last forever. And I like making more. There’s nothing wrong with that.”

“I… guess not,” Brook mused, his fingers drummed a melody against the wooden railing.

“Do you want to help me make something?”

Brook blinked, he couldn’t help but smile. “You know anything I ‘help’ with will turn out terrible, right?”

Yorki grinned. “C’mon, it’ll be fun. Please.”

Brook chuckled. “Fine, fine. I’m coming.”

Though Yorki teased him mercilessly for his bat wings, Brook felt they had a big advantage over feathered wings.

Feathered wings got so dirty.

Having wings like a cloud meant that more often than not, Yorki had something stuck in them.

“Yorki.” Brook grumbled, grabbing him by the arm when he walked past. “What did you do??” He pulled Yorki closer, sticking his hands into Yorki’s wings.

“Huh? Oh.” Yorki laughed. “It’s just a little dirt, Brook. Lighten up.”

“Just a little-” Brook twitched. “Yorki we are in the middle of the ocean. Your wings are covered in dirt. How do you even do this?”

“I am extremely talented.” Yorki hummed.

Brook grumbled. He sat down, pulling Yorki to the ground. “Sit. I’m fixing it.”

Yorki obliged. He often said that Brook’s fussing wasn’t necessary, but he’d never pulled away from it, so Brook imagined he was fine with it.

“How could this possibly not bother you?” Brook said after a few minutes of preening. “It makes me itch just looking at it.”

Brook could hear the grin in Yorki’s voice. “It’s probably because you’re so sensitive.”

“I am not.”

“Remember the time you got choked up because you saw a Snom that was ‘too cute’?”

“Nope.”

“Remember the time you wouldn’t sleep for a week because of a nightmare?”

“Didn’t happen.”

“Remember yesterday when you cried because-”

“Shut up.”

Yorki laughed. Brook had to try to smother a grin. “Yorki, if you keep shaking I won’t be able to finish your wings.”

“I think we both know that would bother you more than me.”

Brook flicked him in the back of the head. “You’re the captain. Your wings need to look presentable.”

“Not true.”

“Yes, true. You represent the rest of us, you know. Wings included.”

“You’re just saying that so I’ll stop getting dirt in my wings.”

“…is it working?”

“Nope.”

Brook groaned, putting his face in his hands. “You’re impossible.”

“Done already?”

“Yes.” Brook glared through his fingers.

Yorki laughed, using his newly cleaned wings to sweep Brook into a side hug. “Relax a little, yeah? It wouldn’t kill you, you know.”

“It might,” Brook grumbled halfheartedly. The frown quickly gave way to a sigh, though. It was impossible to stay upset when surrounded by Yorki’s cloud wings. Yorki couldn’t fly, but Brook was convinced his wings were made of magic.

(It wasn’t long after this that a new friend was made.)

(A promise was made.)

(And a new journey began.)

Brook started picking at his wings, when Yorki got sick. He didn’t mean to, he just couldn’t help it. It was almost as if they itched, or he itched. The picking didn’t make the itch go away, but rather he’d be feeling the itch, then look down to see blood under his fingernails.

He was careful to keep his wings folded neatly when he was able to be at Yorki’s side. Yorki had enough to worry about without adding Brook’s tearing wings to his plate.

It got worse after Yorki died. Brook’s wings lost most of their color, the tears became larger and healed slower. Even a casual observer could see the miserable state of his wings now.

He couldn’t fly anymore. It hadn’t been on purpose; he didn’t want to take away his ability to fly. He just didn’t realize he’d lost it till it was no longer there.

(He took small comfort in being like Yorki in that way. Yorki hadn’t been able to fly for as long as Brook had known him. Now Brook couldn’t either.)

(He felt sick for even thinking of such a thing. Yorki wouldn’t want this. He would want Brook to be able to fly. But what was done was done.)

Brook tried to stay positive for the rest of the crew. But no matter how loud he sang or how bright he grinned, he couldn’t hide the state of his wings.

It was a fact Brook was quickly having to come to terms with. He felt deeply, grieved deeply, but he had to keep going.

Yorki would have wanted that, Brook thought, for his life to continue even after Yorki’s ended.

So, Brook was captain. Not a great one, not like Yorki. But Brook was a good one. One that could keep moving forward, and do it with a smile, even if his wings fell apart in the process.

(Soon it wasn’t just his wings falling apart, but the whole crew. They were dropping like Cutieflys, and there was nothing Brook could do to save them.)

(But he had a Tone Dial, a second chance, and an idea.)

(His crew might not live on, but Brook would make sure their promise was fulfilled.)

(His hands were shaking.)

(Don’t think about it. Don’t think about it.)

(He was crying. How was he crying?)

Brook didn’t have wing membranes anymore. They’d long since rotted away with the rest of his body. He still had his wings though, or their bones at least. They were a stark white against his dark suit, nothing like the wings he’d had before.

His wings used to be blue, black, and purple. Now they were a harsh and unforgiving white, sharp and bony. His wings used to be elegant, now they were as foreign to him as the rest of him. When he looked in the mirror, he saw nothing familiar except for his hair.

His wings were unnatural. He was unnatural.

He started avoiding mirrors.

Instead, he collected the bones of his former crew.

Some of their wings left behind bones, others did not. Bug wings seemed to be more variable. Some of his crewmates with insect wings had left behind bits of exoskeleton, others had not.

He could remember what his crew’s wings had looked like, and was determined to not forget. All of his crew had their wings by the time he’d met them, but he knew from the stories they’d told that some of them had been born with their wings and some had to wait for metamorphosis. He was determined to remember those stories. To remember their wings and faces. He had some of their voices with him still, at least.

He gathered their skeletons. Put them somewhere safe.

He would fulfill their promise. He would make it back to Laboon.

But for now, he would survive. He would keep going.

It was all he could do.

(He wandered the ship.)

(He played music.)

(He wandered the ship.)

(He talked to himself.)

(He wandered the ship.)

(He pretended there was someone else to talk to.)

(He wandered the ship.)

(He slept.)

(He slept some more.)

(He wandered the ship.)

(He pretended to steer the ship. Pretended he was anywhere but there.)

(His voice was the only thing keeping him company.)

(It didn’t help, not much. But he kept going. Because he had a promise to fulfill, and because if he could do one thing it was to keep going.)

There was storage in the belly of the ship. Some of his former crew’s stuff was down there. Also, some living essentials.

Brook wasn’t living, but he was bored. And would like to wear a suit that his body hadn’t decomposed in.

He went through the crates systematically. Most of them contained nothing of interest. Though he did find some tea. Most of it was black or green tea, but some of it was fruit flavored.

Oran Berry tea. Sitrus Berry tea. Pecha Berry tea…

“I won’t have to pretend to drink tea anymore.” Brook mumbled to himself. He tried to keep himself from crying. “I have actual tea. I should have a tea party.”

It would be a lonely tea party. But it was something, at least.

A pang shot through Brook’s missing heart. Maybe I should have waited longer before opening these.

He tried to distract himself with another crate.

Its contents made Brook pause and stare. He tried to move, but his body wouldn’t cooperate. Eventually he was able to lurch his body forwards to grip the edge of the crate.

It was yarn. A crate full of yarn.

Brook tentatively stuck a hand in the crate, making sure it was real. It was.

“But I didn’t…” Brook mumbled. “I didn’t… did Yorki move this here? Before…” He was crying. Brook moved his head back; he didn’t want to cover the yarn in his tears.

The pretend tea party was pushed to the side, and Brook started weaving again.

He was absolutely horrible at it, even worse than before. His bony fingers had a hard time finding purchase on the yarn and he couldn’t remember all the right steps.

The process of relearning was slow and arduous, but he had nothing but time.

Eventually he was able to do the basics with ease. He was even able to remember some of the more difficult parts and figure out the ones that he couldn’t remember. It wasn’t easy, and it was a bit slow, but it was something.

Sometimes he hummed to himself while he worked. Sometimes he listened to the Tone Dial. But for as much comfort as the Tone Dial brought, it also brought pain. A stabbing sensation in a heart he no longer possessed.

Yorki’s voice wasn’t on the Tone Dial. And Brook would never hear it again.

When it hurt too much, he’d sing to himself and focus on weaving. He felt a little less lonely, somehow, when he was working with yarn.

(He liked singing songs like ‘Bink’s Brew’ or ‘Battle Frontier’.)

(He purposefully avoided songs like ‘Everything Changes’ or ‘All Good Things Must End’.)

Time didn’t pass. Not for Brook. He imagined the rest of the world was still spinning, that people were still living and singing and dying.

He wasn’t one of them. So, he did what he could do.

He kept singing, kept weaving, and kept surviving.

It was all he could do.

Brook’s wings bothered him. They were ugly and frightening. His face didn’t bother him too much; he could only see it when he passed by a mirror after all. But he’d catch glimpses of his wings in the corner of his vision.

He’d (mostly) stopped flinching when he saw them. But he’d rather not have to see them at all.

His hands used to be the same. He’d been uncomfortable looking at them. Uncomfortable with how they looked and felt.

Or the fact that they didn’t feel. Not how human hands were supposed to, at least. He imagined they were probably cold, but he couldn’t feel warmth or chill anymore. They were just there. Solid and unfeeling. He knew they were his because they moved as the rest of him did, but they didn’t look or feel like him.

He’d wanted to just ignore them. If he had to see them, he didn’t have to think about them. But with a lack of proper feeling came a lack of understanding of how much pressure he applied to things.

He’d had to relearn how to hold things, how to pick them up and how to play his instruments without breaking them.

(The first time he had picked up one his crewmates skulls, it had cracked in his hands. He’d shook for weeks after that, refusing to pick up any more bones until he was sure he wouldn’t break them.)

He’d relearned how to play his violin.

He’d relearned how to swordfight.

He’d even relearned how to weave, now.

Somewhere along the way, he’d lost the fear of his hands.

(Somewhere along the way he’d even started referring to them as his hands.)

It wasn’t like he could do the same for his wings, though. There was nothing he could do to desensitize himself to them without staring at them. And getting used to his hands had been born from necessity, he just couldn’t find the same motivation to get used to his wings.

(Brook didn’t miss being able to fly, he hadn’t done it much before. He was fast on the ground but had always been too clumsy in the air.)

(After meeting Yorki, Brook didn’t see much reason to try and improve his flying. Yorki was on the ground, after all. Brook couldn’t think of a better place to be.)

(Though, if he could fly, maybe he wouldn’t be stuck on a ship full of corpses.)

Brook had become a speedy unraveller. He didn’t have an infinite supply of yarn, and he was determined to not lose what he had.

So, he made things.

And unmade them.

Weaved them together and unraveled them apart.

It was soothing in a way. To be able to pull something together and pull it apart. To know it was whole either way, the only difference was how it looked.

What was less soothing was when he got tangled in the yarn.

A gust of wind had hit the ship and, in his scramble to keep the majority of this skein from flying into the ocean, Brook had gotten badly tangled in it.

“Agh. Darn it.” Brook tried to unravel himself, but the yarn had gotten wrapped into his wings and around his arms. He tried to sit, bringing what he could of his wings into his lap so he could try and free them. He paused, his empty eye sockets getting a good look at his mess of wings.

It was turquoise yarn that he’d been using, and that was now tangled hopelessly around his wing bones. Brook couldn’t help but laugh, his wings shaking with him.

“I probably look ridiculous.” He mumbled eventually, trying to free himself from the turquoise prison of his own making.

Turquoise… Brook tilted his head. It almost looks like they’re trying to mimic what they used to look like.

Brook hummed, running his only free hand across his wings. “Actually, I wonder…”

He started purposefully weaving yarn into his wings after that. It was a challenge, but Brook hadn’t had something to work towards in so long.

When he didn’t give any slack, the yarn would bunch his wings together. It didn’t hurt, but it did make it harder to keep his balance.

Giving too much slack meant that the yarn would stretch easily when he unfurled his wings, but sag to the ground when he closed them.

Eventually he was able to find a compromise. A middle ground that let him weave and unweave yarn from his wings without messing up his balance or dragging yarn across the deck.

And… the end result was not half bad.

He couldn’t reach all of his wings easily. But he could pull the majority of his wings in front of him into his lap. He could also tie yarn to his ribcage through the holes in his shirt that were supposed to be for his wing membranes, letting him fill every void that used to be membrane with yarn. That was a lot harder to do, though. It was easiest to do simple stuff with what he could be pulled into his lap.

Brook started experimenting. Weaving different patterns and colors into his wings.

And it was fun.

He wouldn’t say that he liked his wings. But he never flinched anymore, when he saw them. And that was something. That was good.

He felt less lonely, when his wings were in colorful contrast to his dull surroundings.

He couldn’t change his situation. But he could change his wings.

So, he did.

(He landed on a floating island. Hope filtering through the gloom like a ray of sunlight through fog.)

(His hopes were quickly dashed when the island turned out to be inhabited by the dead, and bent on taking what little Brook had left.)

(He’d spent decades in the Florian Triangle with an impossible task, get back to Laboon. Now he had another impossible task, get back his shadow.)

(It was hard to have hope, after that. But he kept going. Because he had to.)

(It was all he could do.)

A boy showed up. His wings were a bright red that were rimmed with white and green. His grin was brighter than his wings, almost familiar in a way that made Brook’s missing heart ache.

Perhaps that was why he said yes, when the boy invited him to join his crew. (He knew he couldn’t join. But he had to see living people again, to take this chance before it ran away screaming.)

The boy, (Luffy, Brook had asked him), had a crew with an assortment of colorful feathers. Not just feathers, either. He could see at least two with insect wings and two with no wings at all. (One of them was a reindeer, how exciting!)

(Luffy told Brook that his bony, yarned up wings were cool. Brook couldn’t help but laugh.)

His visit was quickly cut short by a second chance in the form of Thriller Bark.

Brook was going to get his shadow back.

He refused to tell the Straw Hats who had taken his shadow, urged them to stay off the island. These were the first people to be kind to him in decades. He wasn’t going to watch them die.

Then he was off. Their kindness behind him, but not forgotten.

What Brook expected was to fight Ryuma and hopefully reclaim his shadow. (He would reclaim it he had to.)

What he didn’t expect was for the swordsman of the Straw Hat’s to reclaim it for him.

For Luffy to save not only Brook’s life, but the lives of everyone on the island.

It was unexpected, but so, so welcome.

I will never be able to thank them enough. There’s something special, about this crew.

For the first time in fifty years, light shone on Brook’s face. And it was beautiful.

Even more beautiful was the sight Brook saw when the light filtered through Luffy’s wings. They glowed. It was like a rainbow, seven distinct colors shining through and spilling over. The light bent around Luffy, making his surroundings beautiful. (Luffy seemed to do the same thing with people, Brook noticed. Brightening their lives and making them more beautiful. Making them seem almost worth living.)

This day couldn’t get any better.

(It did.)

(Laboon was alive and waiting, he’d never given up hope. And for the first time in a long time Brook could say with absolute certainty that he was so glad to have kept going, to be alive.)

(He was joining the Straw Hats, and he would see Laboon again.)

Thriller Bark was made from soil from the West Blue, a fitting place to finally lay Brook’s crewmates to rest. The Straw Hats helped him do so, making a grave worthy of the one’s who’d moved on. (Franky had done the building, Usopp the designing, and Chopper had picked the flowers.)

Zoro joined Brook at the gravesite, laid his sword to rest as well.

Zoro’s wings were huge and white. They were imposing, even the maroon marring them doing nothing to take from their impressiveness. With the number of bandages encircling Zoro, he looked like a mummified angel.

(He’d looked like one, too, when he’d offered his life in place of Luffy’s. Brook wondered how long Zoro’s wings would be stained red with his blood.)

“What is it?”

Oops. I’ve been staring. “Oh, nothing.” Brook exhaled. I’m going to have to get used to social cues again. Hopefully they’ll understand if I’m a bit… off. “Oh!” Brook raised his head. “In case you haven’t heard, I officially joined the crew.”

Zoro chuckled. “Huh. I see. Well that’s too bad for you now isn’t it?”

“Huh?”

Zoro smiled. “This crew can be a real handful, that’s all.”

It certainly seemed that way, considering the way Zoro and Sanji had all but tripped over themselves trying to offer their life for their captain’s. Considering how eager and willing Luffy was to put his life on the line to fight for everyone else’s.

Brook would get to be a part of that, now. Part of another crew. He’d do what he could, give them what he could. Even if it wasn’t much.

(Even if he didn’t fit in quite right.)

He’d give them all he had.

Brook couldn’t help but chuckle. “So, it would seem. But I’ll give them my blood and sweat all the same.”

(Except I don’t have any since I’m skeleton.)

Usopp and Nami helped Brook move his meager belongings from his ship onto theirs. Franky would have helped, but he was busy fixing up Brook’s old ship for the Thriller Bark Victim’s Association. The hardest thing to move was Brook’s crate of yarn, but between the three of them they were able to manage it.

“Could we take a break?” Usopp huffed, his wings shaking with strain. Nami nodded gratefully, and they all set the crate on Mr. Lion’s grassy deck. Usopp took a few labored breaths. “What’s in this crate anyway?” He waved his hand at it.

“Oh. It’s yarn.”

“Yarn?” Usopp said.

Brook hummed an affirmative, lifting the lid so they could see inside.

“Yeah, okay. That’s a lot of yarn.” Usopp raised his eyebrows, his small brown wings flaring slightly.

Brook chuckled. “It does seem like a lot, doesn’t it?”

Nami fingered the yarn with a frown. Her wings were a fluffy blackish-blue, with some red feathers fanning outwards on the undersides. “It’s a bit… worn, though. It should probably be replaced.”

“Probably.” Brook hummed. “But that isn’t a luxury I’ve had available to me.” I’ve been drifting at sea so long… even when I first landed at Thriller Bark I was too busy running for my life to look for yarn. Brook pushed that thought from his mind, keeping his tone light with a chuckle. “This works well enough for what I’m doing though, so I can’t complain. I might have gone completely insane without it.” He grinned, his voice was light, teasing. He tried to ignore the frown on Usopp’s face.

“For your wings?” Nami asked. Brook tilted his head and Nami continued. “You had yarn in your wings when we first met. Is that what this is for?”

Had. His fight with Ryuma had quickly ended the yarn he’d had in his wings when he’d first met the Straw Hats. Brook pushed away the pang in his nonexistent heart the memory caused him.

“Partly, yes.” Brook put on a smile. “I like working with yarn, it’s fun. I’ve spent a lot of time weaving it into my wings, but I like to make other things as well.”

“What kinds of things have you made? Can I see?” Usopp asked, his wings twitching upwards as he leaned forwards.

“Sorry.” Brook chuckled. He hated to disappoint, but… “My projects are always unraveled and put back in this crate when I’m done. I only have a limited supply, and it would be a shame to run out.”

He’d been very careful over the years. His fight with Ryuma was the most yarn he’d ever lost at once.

“Oh, that won’t be a problem.” Nami stopped sifting through the yarn. “We’ll pick up some fresh yarn at the next island.”

If Brook had a brain it would have short circuited. He tilted his head. “…what?”

Nami grinned, her wings perking upwards. “Don’t know if you noticed, but we have recently acquired an overflow of treasure.” She jerked a thumb over her shoulder at the massive pile of treasure still on the ship’s deck. “Yarn is no problem. Give us a few days and you’ll be practically drowning in the stuff.”

Brook wasn’t sure what to say, his wings furled and unfurled lightly against his back. The kindness these pirates had shown him after such a short time... His long-gone heart squeezed and he could hear rather than feel his wings start lightly shaking. “Th-thank you, Nami.” He tried to keep himself from crying. “I really appreciate that.”

“No problem.” Nami was looking at the treasure instead of him, a dreamy look in her eyes. She sighed, “I frickin love treasure.”

It was a few days after setting sail that Brook started weaving yarn into his wings again. He’d been so busy with just being around people again, when his hands were full it was usually with his violin. The day was a slow one, though, and that itch had started back up in the back of Brook’s mind.

It felt like something was wrong. Like if he took one wrong step something was going to fall apart. His wings shook lightly; he could hear them.

So, he settled on the deck with some yarn. It was noisy on the deck. He could hear Sanji in the galley and Nami watering her tangerine trees. It lightened his shaking hands a bit, gave him enough control to focus on pulling something together. Something that could later fall apart without consequence.

He was almost done with his first wing when Luffy showed up.

“Whatcha doing, Brook?”

Brook startled, but smiled once he saw his young captain’s face. “I’m weaving some yarn into my wings.” He gestured towards his wing with his head, his hands full of yarn.

“That looks like fun.” Luffy grinned, the light filtered through his wings, painting him in a warm glow. “Can I play too?”

Brook stilled. “You…” He tilted his head. “You want to help?”

“Yeah!” Luffy plopped in front of Brook. He pointed at the wing in Brook’s lap. “Can you show me how?”

“I... yeah. Okay.” Brook was stunned, but he cleared his throat (not that he had one) and pressed forward.

He showed Luffy the basics while finishing his first wing. How to tie and weave and where. Luffy was a surprisingly good listener. He wasn’t still, constantly rocking or repositioning, his wings fluttering and flapping, furling and unfurling, but that didn’t seem to hamper his listening in the slightest.

Once the first wing was done, Brook pulled his other wing into his lap so they could work on it together.

It was a spectacular mess.

Luffy couldn’t seem to get the tightness right, always going too tight or too loose. He did his very best to copy what Brook was doing, but he couldn’t seem to get it right. Somehow, Luffy ended up tying his hand into Brook’s wing more than three times.

It was the most fun Brook had had in decades; he couldn’t remember a time in recent memory when he’d laughed so much.

Luffy seemed to enjoy himself too, despite his lack of ability.

Once the wing was finished, it was a stark contrast to his other wing. A complete mess of yarn versus the neat.

Brook had never liked looking at his wings more.

“Hmm…” Luffy inspected Brook’s wings. “They turned out pretty good.”

Brook chuckled, his wings shaking lightly as he did. “That they did.”

Luffy grinned. “They’ll look even better next time. I think I get it better now.”

Brook stilled, his wings snapping to his back in surprise. Next time? Right. He wasn’t all by himself anymore. There can be a next time… “I- I’ll look forward to that, then.” Brook smiled. “Thank you, Luffy.”

“No problem! This is fun, next time I won’t get tangled even once!”

(Brook only touched Luffy’s yarny mess a little after Luffy had wandered off in search of food, just enough to make sure it would stay in place for at least a few days.)

(Brook may not have liked his wings, but he did like looking over his shoulder to be met with Luffy’s handiwork.)

(It had startled him into laughing out loud multiple times. Franky probably thought Brook was insane.)

“Brook, could you help me out here?”

Brook startled out of his thoughts. He’d been in the crow’s nest practicing a song he remembered, ‘Black and White’. Or, he had been. He’d gotten distracted at some point. How long have I been standing up here?

Brook’s gaze slid to Usopp. He was standing in front of him, sullen and a bit embarrassed if Brook had to guess. “Is everything okay?”

“I- well, yeah but-“ Usopp sighed, turning and unfurling his wings.

Brook stilled. “Oh my.”

Oh my indeed. Usopp’s wings were disheveled terribly. (Where had the mud even come from??) There was mud and twigs in places where there should not be and feathers were sticking in directions they should definitely not be. Though normally a light brown, Usopp’s wings were now a mix of dark browns. Usopp’s wings were so small… Brook was surprised so much muck was even able to attach itself to them.

“Yeah, it’s pretty bad.” Usopp sighed. “Could you maybe help me out? I can’t really reach by myself…”

“Of course.” Brook was in motion before he’d even finished thinking it through. This is such a mess. Feathers get messy so easily. Brook sat on the floor, pulling Usopp to sit in front of him. He only paused once his hands were inches from Usopp’s feathers.

Right. This isn’t- he doesn’t know me like- “Are you sure you’re fine with me doing this?” Brook asked, trying to keep his twitching hands out of Usopp’s wings until he was sure it was fine.

“What? Yeah.” Usopp waved his hand in a circle motion. “We all preen each other and help out with each other’s wings; it’s not a big deal. Besides, I could really use the help.”

“Okay.” Brook felt a little better. Could breathe a little easier. “Let me know if anything hurts or is uncomfortable, though.” I can’t feel correctly anymore. I won’t hurt him, but… “I haven’t done this in a while,” he said instead.

“I can do that.” Usopp said.

Good. Brook started immediately. Usopp’s wings were much smaller than Yorki’s, it made the process easier.

Brook’s fingers carded through Usopp’s feathers. He started with the twigs and mud, trying to remove the brunt of the mess before focusing on individual feathers.

This is such a mess. Brook heard his own wings twitch against his back. How did he even do this? We are in the middle of the ocean.

Usopp chuckled. “Yeah… I was trying to water Nami’s tangerine trees and uh… I imagine you can guess the rest.”

Brook slowed slightly. He tried to organize Usopp’s words into something that held meaning. It didn’t work. “I’m sorry. What?”

“You… asked how I got my wings dirty?”

Brook stopped, hands in Usopp’s feathers. “I- I did?”

“Well, I mean. You were mumbling to yourself. But, you were wondering how my wings got so messy.”

“Oh.” Brook slowly continued his work on Usopp’s wings. He thought about Usopp’s words. “I didn’t know I did that.”

“You do it a lot.”

“Oh. Sorry.”

“Don’t apologize.” Usopp chuckled. “It’s nothing to apologize over and I doubt anyone minds. I’ve literally seen Franky turn himself into a backwards centaur. Talking to yourself isn’t even close to the weirdest thing this crew has going on.”

“Oh.” That… was very comforting. If not a little confusing. “Thank you, Usopp.”

“No problem.”

It wasn’t long before Brook had the majority of the twigs and muck off of Usopp’s wings. Brook could feel himself lose ten shades of tension at how much cleaner they were looking already.

“Are you done?” Usopp’s wings perked up.

Brook snorted a laugh. “Oh, gosh, no. You still look half mud-monster.”

Usopp hung his head with a sigh. “Crap.”

“It does sort of look like that, yes.”

(Usopp ended up asking about how Brook did his wings. Brook talked him through the weaving process, the tension and slack problems he’s run into and overcome. It was probably pretty boring, but Usopp seemed interested, so Brook told him happily.)

(Though, Brook wasn’t great with social cues. Gosh, I hope I wasn’t holding him hostage.)

(It was nice of him to listen, at least. Even if I did bore him.)

They were going to be landing on an island soon. A fact Brook learned from Sanji.

“I’m making a list of things I’ll be picking up from the next island, any requests?” Sanji looked bored, already writing things down. His wings twitched. They were insect wings, larger than Usopp’s wings but much smaller than Luffy’s. White with three brown loops near their base.

Brook tilted his head. “Food requests?” He sipped from his empty teacup.

“Yeah.” Sanji looked up from his notepad to make eye contact. He waved a hand in a circular motion. “Is there anything you like? Don’t like? The others have already made their requests but I don’t know what you like.”

“Oh.” Brook smiled. “Thank you, Sanji. But you don’t have to worry about me, I’ll be happy with whatever you make.” Besides, I don’t need to eat anyway. There’s already eight other members on this crew he has to consider while making food, and Luffy eats enough for at least three people. I don’t want to be a bother. “I don’t technically need to eat anyway. It’s so great just to be eating anything again, I’ll be more than happy with whatever you’re already making.”

Sanji was frowning. Oops. Brook tilted his head, taking another sip from his cup. Did I say something wrong?

“Cut the bullcrap.” Sanji pointed his pen at Brook, his wings flaring up defensively. “You are a part of this crew now so you are going to eat and you are going to like it. It’s my job to make sure of it.” He poised his pen over his notepad. “What do you want? A real answer this time.”

Brook would have blinked if he could. “Oh. Um…” He rolled Sanji’s words around in his head, took a sip from his teacup. This is important to Sanji, clearly. Brook twisted his teacup in his hands. What things do I like to eat again?...

Oh. There was… one thing he would really like to have.

“Fruit tea. Do you think- would that be okay?”

“Of course.” Sanji was already writing it down, his wings settling. “Any specific fruit?”

“No. Anything fruit flavored works.”

“Got it. Any other types of tea or just fruit? What kind are you drinking right now?”

Brook chuckled awkwardly. “Oh, um. None.” He turned the cup over so Sanji could see.

Sanji paused, looking from the cup to Brook. He raised an eyebrow.

Brook chuckled again. “I- er- ran out of tea over a decade ago. So…” He gestured lightly with his teacup. “I kinda… got used to making do.”

Sanji’s frown returned. He turned his eyes back to his notepad. “Well, you won’t have to anymore. I’ll take care of it. If a member of this crew needs real tea, I’ll make it happen.”

Brook would have been blinking back tears if he’d had eyelids. As it was, he did his best, twisting his teacup back and forth in his hands as his wings lightly furled and unfurled against his back. “I- Thank you, Sanji.” Brook barely kept himself from choking on the words.

“No problem.” Sanji met Brook’s gaze with a smile. “Anything else?”

(They landed on an island, the next day. It made Brook feel sick to his stomach.)

(This felt… important, somehow. This was a real island, with real people with real lives. He didn’t feel like a real person with a real life. More like fragments of a person, held together by yarn and a soul determined not to give up.)

(Brook wasn’t sure he would have had the courage to leave the ship if Chopper hadn’t attached himself to Brook’s leg and begged to be taken into town.)

The town wasn’t too big. But it was still a lot.

Brook wasn’t sure what to do with his hands.

“Brook?” Chopper was tugging on Brook’s pantleg.

Brook startled lightly, his wings snapping upwards. “Sorry. What was that?”

“Could you carry me? I wanna be able to see everything.”

“Oh.” Brook was surprised. He met Chopper’s gaze with a chuckle. “Of course, if that’s what you want.”

Chopper was very light; it was easy to lift him from the ground and carry him around. Brook held Chopper in front of his chest, careful to support him so he wouldn’t hurt him.

“Let me know if you’re uncomfortable.” He was confident he could hold Chopper without hurting him. He wouldn’t have picked him up if he wasn’t. But he wanted the little reindeer to be comfortable, causing him any amount of harm was unthinkable.

“I’m good.” Chopper kicked his feet back and forth lightly. He leaned his head back to try and look Brook in the eye sockets. “Where are we going first?”

“Oh. Uhm…” Brook scanned what he could see of the town. There were lots of shops, lots of people. “I don’t know.” Brook looked down to meet Chopper’s eyes. “Where would you like to go?”

Chopper shrugged, he scanned the shops. “I don’t really need anything... Raiding Moria Gecko’s supplies got me plenty stocked up on first aid materials.” Chopper pointed at one of the shops. “That one looks like it sells clothes. You wanted to buy clothes and yarn, right? Maybe we could start there.”

“Oh, okay.”

Halfway through the second clothes store, Brook could feel himself starting to relax a little. Chopper’s presence helped a lot. It was easier to focus without his mind drifting away when Chopper was swaying lightly in his arms, keeping up a constant stream of chatting or humming.

Brook heard most of Chopper’s words. He’d drift off sometimes, apologizing once he realized he hadn’t been listening. Chopper would always smile though and tell him it was fine.

The yarn store was the most fun. True to Nami’s word, Brook was able to get a lot. There was yarn of all different colors and textures. Some of it was sparkly.

Chopper seemed to enjoy the experience too, making suggestions and pointing out fun colors. Chopper’s favorites were the sparkly ones. “It’s kind of like when the sun shines on snow,” he had said.

By the time they left the yarn shop it was getting hard for Brook to carry all his bags and Chopper.

That problem didn’t last long, though. Franky ended up passing by and, as he was on his way back to the ship, offered to take their bags for them. Brook passed them over thankfully.

Chopper pulled lightly on Brook’s sleeve. “I heard someone in there talking about a big field of flowers. I think they’re close, do you want to go check them out?”

“Sure.” Brook hummed, following the direction of Chopper’s pointed hoof.

Under Chopper’s direction, Brook left the town and started on a winding path in the woods. It was nice, to be away from all the people and busyness. Chopper was swaying lightly, humming a song. It was familiar. Brook hummed along with him after he recognized it.

It was a classic, one he remembered playing with his old crew.

Brook chuckled after the song came to a close. “That’s ‘We Will Be Heroes’, isn’t it?”

“Yeah!” Chopper looked up at Brook with a grin. “Doctorine used to sing it sometimes.”

Right, Chopper told me about Dr. Kureha while I was trying to pick out pants. “She has good taste, then.” Brook hummed. “That one’s a classic, even older than me.”

“She does.” Chopper smiled, swaying lightly in Brook’s arms.

Chopper gasped. “The flowers- Brook, we found them!”

Indeed, they had. There was a whole field of them, so many colors all in one place. “Wow,” Brook breathed.

Chopper tried to squirm out of Brook’s grip. “Let’s sit! I wanna see them up close.”

Brook obliged, sitting in the field and setting Chopper down. Chopper giggled, running circles near Brook and sniffing the flowers. Brook couldn’t help but laugh, watching him.

How long has it been since I frolicked in a field of flowers? Probably never, honestly. Yorki would definitely have not let me hear the end of it if I had.

They had been in a field of flowers once, but that was just because they’d ended up there after making a daring escape. Brook remembered the situation being stressful, involving blood and swords, even if Yorki had laughed it off afterwards. He’d managed to get Brook to calm down too. He’d always been good at that kind of thing.

“Brook! Do you want to race?” Chopper had already grabbed one of Brook’s hands, trying to drag Brook to his feet despite Chopper’s much smaller size.

“Race?” Brook shook himself out of his thoughts, tilting his head.

“Yeah, first one to the other side of the field wins.” Chopper was grinning. Brook couldn’t say no to that.

They raced across the field a couple times. It was fun. Chopper seemed to be enjoying it as well, judging by the way he’d beg to do another while panting to catch his breath.

Brook obliged him each time he asked. Brook was fast and light, easily able to out speed Chopper even though he’d switched to Walk Point. Brook didn’t do that, though. He made sure to stay relatively close to Chopper, sometimes pulling ahead and sometimes letting him win. It was just too much fun to leave him in the dust.

Chopper got tired eventually, though, and both of them ended up sitting back in the flowers. Chopper settled in Brook’s lap, panting heavily.

Brook didn’t mind. He hummed an old song, tapping out the melody against his leg. They stayed like that for a few minutes, Chopper catching his breath and Brook humming.

On the road, far from home. But you don’t have to feel alone…

Brook’s wings twitched against his back. This song sounds really familiar… Ah. Right. He’d been humming it with Chopper earlier. That must be why it’s stuck in my head. Brook chuckled to himself.

Chopper shifted, leaning forwards to pick a pink flower. He handed it to Brook. “The pink ones are my favorite. They’re the prettiest and they smell the best.” Chopper paused, then tilted his head back so his gaze could meet Brook’s. “Can you smell things?”

Ah, a question Brook had an answer for, even if he didn’t know the reason behind it. “Yes, I can.” Brook spun the flower between two of his fingers. “I’m not sure how. But I’ve stopped asking questions on how I work at this point.” He chuckled.

Chopper hummed, leaning forwards to pick more flowers.

Oh! I wonder if Chopper would like to-

“Can I put some of the flowers in your wings?” Chopper had leaned back again, his arms full of flowers. He was smiling. “I want to put them into the yarn.”

“Oh.” Brook startled lightly, looking at his wings. “I- yeah. If you want to.”

Chopper lit up. “Thanks! It’ll look super good I promise.”

And it did.

Chopper put the flowers, mostly the pink ones, into Brook’s wings. Giggling and talking all the while. Brook joined in as well. It was fun.

“These probably won’t last long.” Chopper said eventually.

“That’s okay.” Brook hummed. “Beautiful things usually don’t.”

Chopper grinned at his handiwork. “Yeah, your wings do look beautiful.”

Brook had meant the flowers, not his wings.

“Thank you for your help,” Brook said instead. “This was a great idea.”

Chopper sputtered and swayed, a huge grin on his face. “That- that doesn’t make me happy or anything.”

(Brook taught Chopper how to make flower crowns after that. Yorki had taught him the same thing once, a long time ago. It wasn’t long after that that Chopper fell asleep in Brook’s lap.)

(Brook hummed a lullaby, tried to keep him comfortable.)

(Might as well let him rest before heading back.)

It was a foggy night, and Brook could not sleep.

It was like the fog permeated his very soul. It whispered about the past, threatened to make it his present if he stayed in it too long.

He wandered deep into the ship in an effort to get as far away from the fog as possible.

He ran into Robin in the middle of his wander through the Soldier Dock System.

“Oh, hello.” Brook stilled. He hadn’t expected to see anyone else down there so late at night. (He’d half convinced himself that there wasn’t anyone left on the ship to see.)

She was sitting in Channel 2 near the Mini Merry, she looked to have been reading. Now she was just frowning.

“You’re wilting.” Her gaze cut through him like a knife.

Wilting? Is that a new slang term? Is that bad? It sounds bad. Brook felt himself go through at least five shades of panic over the course of three seconds. I can only understand two-thirds of the words kids these days say. Is this about how badly I’m holding myself together? Or something else?

“I’m… fine.” Brook forced out. His hands were shaking. His wings too, though they were now so tightly pressed against his back that his body was lightly vibrating as well.

Very convincing, Brook. Five stars.

Robin patted the spot beside her. “Come. Sit.”

Brook did as she asked, though shakily and with slightly jerky steps.

She picked a flower out of his wings. “See? Wilting.”

“Oh. You… oh.”

Robin smiled. “Don’t worry, I can help.”

Robin started removing the flowers. It was a bit of a slow process, Chopper hadn’t wanted the flowers to fall out before they even got back to the ship, but she didn’t seem to be in a hurry. Robin was humming something. Brook could feel himself starting to relax, tension unraveling from his frame. The song was nice. Familiar, too. It-

“Is that ‘Stay Together’?” Brook’s head swiveled to her.

“Yes. You recognize it?”

“Of course. It’s from the West Blue, like me.” Brook’s fingers lightly drummed out the melody against the wooden floor. “I heard it all the time as a kid.”

“Me too.” Robin said. “It was quite popular in the West Blue, so I heard it a lot. It’s an old song.”

“Oh, don’t call it old.” Brook winced. “It only came out a few years before I was born.”

Robin laughed, he couldn’t help but laugh as well. Most of the tension had eased out of his frame, unravelling itself from his bones.

I didn’t know Robin was from the West Blue. It’s nice that I’m not the only one.

“What kind of wings are these?” Robin asked.

“Oh, uh. They’re Noivern wings.”

“Bat wings?” Robin nodded approvingly. “I’ve heard that Noivern can crush boulders using only sound.”

Brook chuckled. “Yep. I actually knew that one.” He shifted lightly, his fingers starting to tap out a different tune. Brook grinned. “Yorki used to tease me mercilessly for having the wings and eyesight of a bat. I daresay I’ve heard about every possible fact and jab about Noivern that exists.”

Robin chuckled. “Pity. And here I was wanting to tease.” She finished picking the flowers out of one of his wings, moving to the other one. “You know, they are quite beautiful,” Robin mused.

“What?”

“Your wings.” Robin gestured at them with a hand.

“O- oh. Thank you.”

“You don’t believe me?” Robin tilted her head.

“I…” Brook hesitated, his hands switched tunes. “Maybe they used to be. But even if they were, it didn’t last. Beautiful things never seem to.”

“You lasted.”

Brook chuckled, it sounded hollow. “Maybe, but not well. And certainly not beautifully.”

Lasting, continuing on- it had been a fight. For fifty years it had been desperately holding on to every ounce of joy, sanity, and self that he could. Watching as it slowly slipped through his clenched hands despite his best efforts. It was a fight that had been tortuous to face alone, and impossible to get through gracefully when fighting for so long all on his own.

One of Robin’s wings shoved its way into Brook’s space. He leaned back, startled.

“See this?” Robin pointed.

“I- yes?”

“Do you know what kind of wings they are?”

“Um…” Brook studied them. They looked like flower petals. Six large petals. They were orange and red, orange closer to her back and ombreing out into a deep red. They were covered in black speckles. “I do not.”

“They’re Volcarona wings.” She said the words softly, pulling her wing out of Brook’s face and continuing her work on his wings. “It’s a very rare type of bug, and even rarer to see someone with its wings.”

“Oh.” Brook tilted his head. “Well, they are very beautiful.”

Robin chuckled. “I didn’t use to think so.”

Brook waited for her to continue.

“Volcarona doesn’t have wings in its larval stage, doesn’t get them till after metamorphosis. But, unlike most bugs, this one doesn’t go through metamorphosis unless it’s been through fire.” Robin pulled a flower from his wings, setting it down softly. “People say it’s wings are born of flames.” Robin’s own wings twitched against her back. “I didn’t even know what type of wings I was going to have until my home island was burned to the ground.”

Brook stilled.

“They were little more than a reminder to me for a very long time. I couldn’t even look at them without feeling sick.” Robin sighed. “I wasn’t able to find beauty in anything, really. Not until Luffy found me. And it still took me a long while to start believing it.”

Robin’s gaze went to Brook’s, she smiled softly. “It’s okay if you don’t like your wings. Your crew can like them for you for now. I’m sure you’ll be liking them yourself soon enough.”

Brook wasn’t sure what to say. “I… th- thank you, Robin.”

Robin plucked the last flower from his wings. “No need to thank me, I love flowers.” She handed it to him with a teasing smile.

Brook took it with a laugh. We’re more alike than I realized. He could feel a warm feeling settling over the place his heart used to be. It’s nice to not be alone.

“You know, I know a lot of music from the West Blue.” Brook smiled. “I could play you some anytime you’re feeling homesick?”

“Thanks, Brook.” Robin smiled. “I would really appreciate that.”

(The fog was gone the next day. It was a bit easier, when Brook could see the sun.)

(Brook helped preen Zoro, Sanji refusing to let him enter the kitchen with dirty wings. Zoro didn’t mind Brook’s help, only complaining that the cook was incessant about keeping the kitchen clean.)

(Sanji gave Brook some fruit tea afterwards, rolling his eyes at Zoro and saying he was glad someone else on the ship cared about wing cleanliness as much as he did.)

(It was nice, Brook thought, to know his quirks were wanted and useful here.)

(The tea smelled like home. Sanji very kindly pretended not to notice Brook’s tears.)

“Hey, bone-bro.”

Brook startled. He’d been sitting on Mr. Lion’s turf, unravelling the yarn from his wings. “Wh- me?”

Franky tilted his head. “Uh yeah? Who else would I be talking to?”

“…Yourself?”

“You’re an odd guy, you know that?” Said Franky, the adult man in speedos.

Brook tried to keep still in an effort to keep himself from chuckling. Franky could be blunt, but he had a kind heart. Brook didn’t want to offend him. Brook shrugged lightly. “I suppose.”

“Anyway, what I wanted to ask is if you’d be interested in playing a duet with me ton-“

“You play an instrument??” Brook stood up so fast he tripped over himself. He would have careened flat onto the deck if Franky hadn’t grabbed him by the back of his shirt. Brook barely noticed. “Which one? How long have you played? You want to play a duet? That sounds like so much fun. I haven’t played with anyone in so long-“

“Woah, woah, hold your horses.” Franky lifted Brook by his shirt so they were eye level. “I love the enthusiasm, bro. But I haven’t even finished my question yet.”

“Right, yes. Continue.”

“I play the guitar-“

“Oh my goodness a guitar!”

“-and I think Luffy’s wanting to do a big dinner tonight. So, I thought it might be fun to break it out and play something together.”

“YES. YES, LET’S PLAY SOMETHING TOGETHER.” Brook was practically vibrating. “What kind of guitar do you have? Do you need it tuned? Can I tune it for you? I would love to tune it for you. What kind of string do you use? I haven’t played a guitar in so long- the only one we had on our boat molded before I even got back to my body- can I try it out before we practice for the duet? What kind of song are you wanting to-“

“Brook.” Franky shook him lightly. “Hey, bone-bro, focus.”

“Sorry, focused. Yes.” Brook’s wings were twitching against his back. There is a guitar. On this ship. Right now.

“You gonna put your feet on the ground?”

“What?”

Franky gave Brook a light shake in his hold, raising an eyebrow before looking pointedly at the ground.

Brook’s gaze followed Franky’s. “Ah, right.” Brook lowered his feet to the ground, standing to his full height once Franky let him go. “You mentioned a guitar?”

“Right now? You don’t want to…” Franky gestured towards Brook’s wings. “Finish your wing things or whatever?”

Brook glanced at his wings. One of them was mostly unraveled, the other he hadn’t even started yet. He’d dropped the majority of his unraveled skein in his haste to stand. “Ah...” Brook bent to pick up his yarn. “I can finish this later.” He stuffed the still-attached-to-his-wings yarn into his pocket. There was a guitar on this ship. “It will be fine in my pocket for now.” He turned back to Franky. “Guitar?”

Franky laughed. “Okay, bro. Whatever you say.”

(It was a very nice guitar, kept in very good condition. Pink with five strings. Franky let Brook tune it, he let him play it too!)

Playing the guitar was about as difficult as Brook had guessed it would be. He knew what to do, but his muscle memory was from, well, from when he had muscles.

Brook hummed, passing Franky’s guitar back to him. They were sitting on the floor of Franky’s Workshop. “I’ll need to practice more. Thank you so much for letting me try it.” The guitar has five strings, different from my violin’s four. It will take some time to relearn how to play it correctly.

“Relearn? Do you not remember how to play it?”

Brook would have blinked if he could. Ah, must have said that out loud. He tilted his head, trying to come up with a response that made sense. He’d never had to explain this out loud before. “Not… exactly.” Brook’s fingers drummed against his leg. “It’s more the… the physical act of it that I have to relearn.” Brook made a circle motion with a hand. “I know how to play it, but I just don’t… feel correctly, anymore. I’ll have to practice switching chords and how much pressure to use so that I can… do it,” he finished lamely. His wings jolted upwards. “Oh! Not that I- I wouldn’t break your guitar, though. I’m much better with that now then I used to be.”

“Oh, cool. Like me.” Franky opened up his stomach to pull out a Cola.

Brook tilted his head. “Like… you?” 

“I don’t feel things quite right either.” Franky shrugged, shutting his stomach hatch with a click. “I had to rebuild a lot of myself after I got hit by the Puffing Tom. The bits that aren’t held together or backed by metal still don’t feel very well because a lot of my nerves were shot.” Franky opened his Cola in one fluid motion. “My back can still feel pain, but my front is much more of a gamble.” Franky pushed a hand in front of Brook. “My hands don’t feel anything at all anymore. See all the nicks and dents?”

“Huh,” Brook breathed. “I didn’t know.”

“Of course not, you’re new.” Franky took a swig of his drink.

That I am. Here, but different. New.

“Don’t worry, I’m new too. Joined barely a week before you did.”

Brook’s head snapped to Franky’s, his wings flaring outwards. “You are?!”

That had to be a joke of some kind. Franky fit so well with the rest of the crew. Brook had… kinda thought they’d all been travelling around together for ages.

“Yeah, bro.” Franky laughed. “The first thing I did to the Straw Hats was steal two hundred million berries and have my family beat up Usopp. You’re making a much better first impression.”

Brook opened and closed his mouth. What. “Oh. I- I didn’t know.”

Franky shrugged. “You should probably get used to that. I’m starting to think not knowing things and figuring them out as you go is kind of a Straw Hat trademark.”

Brook couldn’t imagine the Straw Hats without Franky. Was it possible that it wouldn’t be long before they could say the same thing about him…?

“I’ll try to keep that in mind,” Brook mumbled.

“Hey,” Franky straightened and stood. “I completely forgot, I have an extra guitar. It’s a bit smaller than mine… but…” Franky was rummaging through a pile of things in the corner. “Here!” He pulled out a guitar case, opening it to reveal a shiny red guitar. Brook was at his side inspecting it in seconds.

Six strings. Ooh it has some purple on it-

“Here, take it.”

“What?”

“Take it.” Franky pushed it into Brook’s hands. “I brought it with me just in case, but I don’t need two guitars. I’m sure you’ll get more use out of it then me anyway.”

Franky was giving him a guitar. Do not cry. I am not going to cry.

“I- you- thank you, Franky.”

“Don’t sweat it bro. You ready to practice for the duet now?”

Blunt and to the point as usual. Brook grinned. “Yes.”

(It was a fun song that Franky was wanting to play. With Franky on the guitar and Brook on the violin, it sounded great.)

(Super great, according to Franky.)

It was almost mid-afternoon before Brook was able to get back to his wings. He was sitting on Mr. Lion’s turf, trying to finish unravelling his left wing. He really wanted to be practicing with the guitar. But, alas, his wings had been held off long enough. He couldn’t exactly do a performance with half unraveled wings. It was bad form.

He did skip redressing them, though. He was too eager to get back to the guitar.

Brook ended up settling on the swing, rocking lightly back and forth as he practiced.

The remembering was the easy bit, the doing was much harder.

“I should probably practice switching chords…”

“That’s not it.”

“Better. Too slow though…”

He worked for a while, humming and mumbling to himself.

“…I’ll get better over time… This is definitely an improvement over where I started, though.”

He could switch between a few chords with ease, and a handful more with… less ease. “It’ll get better.”

“What’ll get better?”

Brook’s head snapped up, his wings flaring. “Oh! Luffy.” He took a breath. “You almost gave me a heart attack... Well, not that I have one...”

Luffy laughed, the skull joke hitting its target as intended. Brook smiled in turn.

Oh. “Sorry, Luffy. Did you ask me something?”

Luffy finished his snickers. “Yeah, I asked what would get better.”

Brook re-ran his recent memories through his head. Ah. “My guitar playing.” Brook grinned, gesturing to the instrument in his hands. “I’m a bit out of practice with it.”

“You can play guitar? Cool!” Luffy’s grin was bright as the sun.

Brook chuckled. “Well, I could at least. With a little practice I should hopefully be back to it in no time.”

“I can help!” Luffy said.

Brook would have blinked if he could. “With the guitar?”

“No, with your wings!”

Said wings shifted against Brook’s back. “What?”

“I can do them for you while you practice. That way you’ll be ready for tonight.”

“Oh.” That was… really sweet. “Thank you, Luffy. I would really appreciate that.”

“Be right back.” Luffy rushed off.

Brook chuckled. He ended up settling on the ground before going back to practicing chord switching. Luffy would probably be more comfortable sitting behind him than standing.

Fingers on the second fret of the fifth string, third fret of the sixth string, and third fret of the first string. Good…

It wasn’t long before Luffy was back. Though he wasn’t the only one.

“I’m great with knots, this is gonna look great!” Usopp’s voice boasted.

Brook heard the sound of scampering hooves. “I want to help too! It sounds like fun!”

“I’m back!” Luffy said. Brook could hear the grin in his voice.

Brook tried to turn to look at the group, but Luffy stopped him. “Don’t look, it’s gonna be a surprise. You just do your guitar stuff.”

Brook chuckled. “Whatever you say, Luffy.”

“Don’t worry, Brook.” Usopp said. “I’ll help keep Luffy’s efforts in line. Plus…” he added mysteriously, “I picked up something for your wings from the island we landed on the other day, I think you’re really going to like it.”

“You did?” Brook was surprised. He picked something up for my wings? “What is it?”

“A surprise.”

Brook chuckled. “Ah, I suppose I’ll just have to be patient then.” He was good at being patient. (Or really terrible. He could survive it, at the very least.)

The trio quickly got to work. Brook returned to practicing switching chords.

Here… no, there. That’s a little better.

“No, Luffy. Not like that. Like this.”

“Ohhh…”

Fingers on the second fret of the fifth string and second fret of the fourth string.... Good. Switching to second fret of the third string, second fret of the first string, and third fret of the second string... Oof. I’m gonna have to do that a couple dozen more times.

“What about these ones?”

“Great pick, Chopper. Those will be perfect.”

“Pf- That doesn’t make me happy you jerk…”

Brook started a simple song. One with some of the chords he’d been working on. He hummed along.

A new adventure, another day…

“Wait, Luffy. Do it like this… if you do it like that it will be too loose.”

“Wow, Usopp, you know a lot about this.”

“I’m good with knots and weaving. Besides, Brook told me how to do it the other day.”

The words took a moment to filter into Brook’s head. Once they did, he froze.

Usopp listened to that? He’d thought Usopp had just been humoring him. And he got me something for my wings... Don’t cry. Don’t cryy.

“Um, you okay, Brook? Your wings are shaking.” It was Usopp’s voice.

“Sorry, yes. I’m fine.” Brook focused on stilling his wings. “Just distracted.”

“That’s okay, just don’t look,” Luffy said seriously.

Brook couldn’t help but smile. “Of course.”

The time that they worked on his wings passed quickly, and somehow not at all. It was weird, like a bubble of time, separate from time’s normal march.

Brook had never had to relearn something in front of people before. He’d kind of expected it to be awkward. It wasn’t, though. He felt... comfortable.

With the guitar in front of him and their voices hemming him in from behind, he was surrounded by noise that wasn’t his own. Sometimes he listened to them while he practiced, sometimes he got distracted by his practice and wouldn’t hear a word they said.

It was nice.

He hadn’t been surrounded by such care in so long.

Part of him wished it would never end. Unfortunately, though, everything ended eventually.

“Finished!” Luffy crowed.

“Ooh it looks so good.” Chopper sounded excited.

“It really does.” Brook could hear the grin in Usopp’s voice.

Brook set the guitar down in his lap. His fingers twitched. “Thank you all for working on them for me.” You have no idea how much it means to me. “Can I… look at them now?”

“Yep!” Luffy said. “You c-”

“Dinner’s ready!! Everybody come eat!” Sanji’s voice rang out across the deck.

“FOOD!” Brook heard the unmistakable sound of a rubber body launching itself across the deck.

Usopp chuckled. “Guess we were just in time, huh?”

“I suppose so.” Brook chuckled. Oh! I need to go grab my violin for the performance…

“You should check your wings in a mirror if you’re stopping for your violin.” Chopper said. “Then you’ll be able to see them better.”

Brook tilted his head, it took only a moment to register what Chopper must be talking about. “Okay, I can do that.”

“We’ll see you in the Galley then. Hurry before Luffy eats everything.” Usopp said.

Brook chuckled. “I will.”

Brook put the guitar in the case Franky had given him and grabbed his violin, keeping his wings pinned to his back the whole time. Luffy, Usopp, and Chopper had put so much work into them, the least Brook could do was look at them all at once like Chopper had suggested.

The guitar’s put away… I have my violin. Okay, I’m good to go.

Brook stopped in front of a mirror, and his jaw dropped.

(He almost dropped his violin, but ended up freezing still instead.)

Are those really… my wings?

He took a step back from the mirror, flexing his wings so he could see from different angles.

His wings were done in blue, purple, and black. He noticed belatedly that the sparkly black yarn he’d picked up was the one they’d used. I wonder if Chopper picked that one...

The yarn was weaved perfectly. There wasn’t too much or too little slack, it didn’t tangle when he flexed his wings. Usopp wasn’t lying when he said he knew what he was doing. Brook flexed his wings again, taking a step closer to the mirror. He really was listening when I told him how to do my wings. I can’t believe he remembered all of that…

Possibly most surprising was the beads.

Beads of all shapes, sizes, and colors had been threaded into the yarn on his wings. Some of them were small and round, others were shaped like stars or hearts. And when he stretched out his wings fully…

If Brook’s jaw could have dropped lower, it would.

Some of the beads came together into patterns when his wings were fully extended. He could see flowers and musical notes scattered across his wings.

These must have been the gift Usopp was talking about. Brook reached to run his hand across some of the beads. I can’t believe he listened to my ramblings and thought to get me something like this…

Brook was crying; streams of tears coming out of his eye sockets. He let it happen, more focused on his wings.

Brook couldn’t remember the last time he’d been surrounded by such care. Even he had learned to just tune himself out sometimes.

It looked like that wasn’t going to be the case anymore.

My wings look kind of… beautiful.

There was a sharp rap at the door. “Brook, you in there? Luffy’s going to eat everything.”

“Coming!”

Dinner was an event.

It seemed any time there was food was an event to Luffy.

There was a lot of food. So much that Brook and Franky were easily able to play without having to worry about Luffy eating everything.

Zoro was drinking booze with a smile on his face.

Robin was using an extra arm to pull a wishbone with Chopper.

Nami was humming along with the song. Sanji was trying to keep Luffy away from her plate.

Usopp had somehow gotten mashed potatoes in his wings.

It was loud and wonderful.

Brook was able to put what felt like endless amounts of energy into the performance. Franky seemed to see this as a fun challenge of sorts, trying to outmatch it. The result was a wondrously boisterous rendition of ‘The Journey Starts Today’ that filled the space better than Brook’s playing alone would ever have been able to.

Brook watched the others as he played. They all seemed so happy to be there. So happy to be together. He realized with a jolt that he was too.

Playing next to a cyborg and across from a reindeer… a skeleton really didn’t seem too out of place.

Brook’s grin would have grown wider if it could. As it was, his playing went up by about ten. Franky immediately tried to rise to match it.

“Set your sails, to be ready for the winds of change.”

“’Cause the journey starts today...”

He’d had to survive for so long. He hadn’t completely expected to make it back to Laboon, he’d just known he had no choice. He’d never in a million years have guessed he could have found a second home, a place to belong.

Yet, here he was.

The music swelled and crashed, his and Franky’s voices mixing with the noise at the table. It was a beautiful song, one Brook was starting to think was much too short.

The song came to a close. Applause filled the space the music had once occupied.

Brook laughed. His wings shook, the beads catching the light of the room and making him look almost painted in colors.

“I quite like that song.” Robin smiled. “It’s beautiful.”

It was.

“Yeah,” Usopp agreed with a grin. “I wish it didn’t have to end.”

I know the feeling.

Brook grinned. “Thank you. I’m afraid everything ends eventually, though,” he sighed, his tone light and teasing.

“Not on my watch!” Luffy pumped his fists into the air, his mouth was full of food.

“Hm?” Brook tilted his head, his wings perking upwards.

“Play it again!” Luffy started a chant, Usopp and Chopper joined a moment later. Robin only a few moments afterwards, though quieter, there was a glint of mirth in her eyes.

“Play it again! Play it again! Play it again! Play it again!”

Brook had stilled. Franky was laughing, he punched Brook’s shoulder lightly. “What do you say, bro? Do you want to do it again?”

Brook had been held together by a soul that refused to give up and yarn for so long. It was nice to not be the only one pulling the strings anymore. Brook’s wings fluttered lightly against his back, repositioning themselves.

He belonged here.

He was a Straw Hat, happier and less lonely than he had been in decades. He wouldn’t do it perfectly, but he would do his best, and maybe it would be beautiful. Maybe it already was.

Do you want to do it again?

He could do it again. His second life had felt more like a punishment than a second chance for so long... But it didn’t have to be that anymore.

He wasn’t alone anymore.

He was home.

Do you want to do it again?

“Yes.” Brook grinned, his wings perking upwards. “I would love nothing more.”