Chapter Text
Luffy’s been acting weird.
Not that Jinbe can tell with as much clarity as the others, he’s not that fluent in all of his captain’s behaviors— not yet at the very least.
Of course, they’re not complete strangers by any means either— their share of eventful and quite dire experiences together gave him everything he needed to understand about the young man he’d agreed to follow. He quickly came to know the determination Luffy carries in his eyes and executes with his fists; the way he lights up when talking about the future he so clearly sees and dreams about with every waking breath; how he bounces back no matter what and pushes forward despite whole world wanting him to hold on; how much he cares and fights and wills to put at stake for the ones he loves.
All that was made abundantly evident in the short period during and after the war, as they spent time licking their wounds and conversing so softly it barely disturbed the heavy silence of grief and remorse, but quite enough to resuscitate the young and broken heart. Then again, two years later, joined in trickles of the mutual blood and jovial celebrations at the underwater palace, with that indescribable feeling of standing on the edge of precipice of something new, hopeful and exciting underneath his hard scale-covered skin. The following meeting at the Totto Land came and passed just as quickly, but however brief, it only cemented in Jinbe the respect and certainty he felt for the rubber man ever since the Marineford.
With that, all that was left was just a formality. And the banquets, of course.
It’s been a little less than two weeks since the land of Wano disappeared behind the horizon, but no matter how warm and generous (so, so many feasts…) his welcome was, Jinbe is honestly still in the process of finding his feet among his new family.
Many pirates had the fishman pleasure (and displeasure) to encounter in his decades at sea— the vile and the cunning, the bloodthirsty killers with superiority complex, the bandits so soft that they should’ve never left their domestic shores, and the two-faced darlings, eager to backstab the second the wind changes— but in all his experience no other ship hosted as peculiar and remarkable group as the great Thousand Sunny.
The Strawhats unveil their surprises at him on every turn, only beginning with unconventional dynamics, varied skill sets and the enticing future they strive toward— the raid on Onigashima was a prime example of their prowess in the field; their fierce loyalty and unwavering conviction; their cooperation not only with each other, but the allies too— both with which they’d worked with before, and the newly acquired ones amongst the fire of battle— which is unprecedented all in itself.
Jinbe finds himself fully swept in the mysterious current of events they created (or perhaps simply were thrown into as well) and surely continue to shape; his own stagnant want for a change can finally be put back into action, direction clear now that’s illuminated by hope.
It’s bizarre to even imagine that some people can so casually shift entire courses of others’ lives by sheer willpower, and yet Luffy, based on his own experience so far and the navigator’s (later taken over, meticulously transcribed and complemented in Robin’s handwriting) logs, seems to excel at that. He’s an unreadable enigma, fickle and volatile like the weather on the Grand Line, and just as dangerous.
The crew has noticed however, and Jinbe prides himself in reading people quite well, like seeing the patterns in the sand hinting at an unpredictable underwater stream, or hearing the echoes reverberating of the ocean’s floor— means to survival, so to speak. They all seem to, consciously or not, accommodate for Luffy’s moods more than usual, and thus accentuating and amplifying that something is…amiss.
It’s nothing grand or worth worrying about, not exactly— just an itch of wrongness at the back of the neck that is gone before it can be scratched, an anticipation of Sea King lurking under the too calm surface. The small things— like taking twice the usual time to finish a meal, because he’s pausing between the chews only to listen with awe to Usopp’s yet another heroic story or Robin’s increasingly morbid, detailed explanations to the ways said stories would realistically end. It’s him abruptly stopping Zoro’s and Sanji’s usual full of bickering sparring session and sending them both to Chopper for an impromptu check-up, to everyones not-so-mild surprise, even his own. It’s the way he (almost) silently trails after Franky as he fidgets around Sunny planning next upgrades, or how he ever so often stops by the helm to ask Nami and him if the course is ‘nice and steady’. Like as if he’s preparing for something to happen, the other shoe to drop— antsy and restless, but not in a way his hyperactivity normally presents.
And only when he’s satisfied that nothing is out of his idea of ordinary order, he plops down next to Brook and requests him to play, sometimes for hours on end, and eventually attracting the rest of crew, who abandoning their previous activities gathers around them, basking in the warmth of coexistence and setting down for a day. The skeleton of course indulges him every time, easily complying with captain’s whims. They all do.
Other than these little oddities, everything else appears perfectly fine— he’s still his loud, cheerful and unbothered self. Luffy himself is either unaware or uncaring, characteristically so, and when probed and asked how he was doing lately he just laughed it off— not in the dismissive manner, but like he genuinely didn’t know anything was, or should be, any different.
The best way to describe this phenomenon is to say Luffy’s rhythm has slightly changed, skipped a beat— and his whole world followed suit, adapting to adjusted gravitational pull, without a protest melding to the new order of things.
So, it’s scarcely a problem per se, just something Jinbe decided to keep a closer eye on, and he hopes it will resolve on its own like most things do, drained along with the excess irrepressible energy that right now is confined on the ship and has no real outlet.
Preferably as soon as they reach their next stop, slowly coming into view.
𓆣
The morning is quite perfect when he wakes, bright and cloudless, with soft inland wind blowing against the sails. Jinbe shields his eyes as he emerges from the men’s cabin, pops his joints and breaths in the second of calmness, relishing the feeling of salty breeze kissing his skin before the early sun can dry it further than the night had.
And then he throws himself with a smile right into an eye of the ongoing storm.
Upper deck greets him with clutter, shouts, flying limbs and bubbly lemonade tea from Sanji, who promptly disappears back inside the kitchen, most likely finishing the breakfast preparations. One of the things Jinbe just can’t get used to are the insane portions he is served to for every each meal. Sure, he was never hungry while with the Sun Pirates, but the rations had been rather military and were distributed scarcely, as not many ports welcomed their arrival and granted them opportunities to restock on 'normal food'. They made do with what they had, and the Mother Sea kept them adrift. Compared to that, five-course breakfast seems a bit…excessive.
“Oh great, Jinbe, you’re up.” Nami beckons loudly without sparing him a glance, eyes locked on the land ahead. He steps over the napping swordsman and leans against the railings beside her. “Franky found us that cavern to berth in, and from what I can tell we should fit in just fine, but I would still rather you do it.”
The coastal area is strangely familiar, a distinctive shape of elongated crescent moon, with cracks running through limestone like Lichtenberg scars. Although Jinbe’s certain he’s never been here personally, he recalls identical island from the reports he was privy to during one of few strategic meetings hosted by the Whitebeards, relating to protection of the lands the former Yonko claimed as his own. What has become of this place after his passing he doesn’t know, but he recons it’s always a good call to stay away from any public wharfs.
He scans the towering rock formation, squinting as the light reflecting off the white stones hits him precisely at the right angle to momentarily blind him. His vision above water adjusts much slower to the brightness, but then there it is, a darker, large patch indicating a major recess at the edge of one of the cliffs. Looking closer, the littoral cave that unfurls seems spacious and wide— inside walls are contoured by deep shadows, crystal-clear water doesn’t show any sign of shallow seabed, and the far back cove shines with very fine pearlescent sand— all indicating enough space for a ship as large as Sunny to comfortably drop anchor.
All, except for the stalactites hanging at its mouth like gnarly shark’s teeth, daring anyone to try and enter, feeding on the wreckage of those less fortunate and skilled.
Jinbe turns back to the navigator, clearly missing something she sees because her face is an image of confidence and assurance. Like there’s no question about it.
“There.”
She points to a gap between speleothems, coincidentally about the height and size of Sunny’s crow’s nest, if not a scarcely smaller. It’s a tight fit, risky, but with his seasoned steering, it is possible. He’s up for the challenge anyway.
“Hmm, let’s get to it then, shall we?”
“She’s all yours, boss.” Franky grins with an exaggerated salute and steps aside from the helm, jumping down two stories to the lower deck. His robotic arms extend, catching coiled ropes of both fore- and main sails, and within seconds the sheets are furled and secured, a job done that would usually take a few people to accomplish. Then he opens the hatch and dives inside, his voice hollering from the ship’s belly shortly after. “M’key, almost ready to paddle!”
He follows the instructions he memorized on his first day aboard; turn the knob on the steering wheel, line up the suitable numbers (zero in this case), and pull the lever. Sunny softly groans under him, sprouts propellers at her sides and starts to drift with purpose towards the shore. A mechanical wonder if Jinbe ever seen one.
Luffy, awake since dawn judging by navigator’s tired expression, chooses this moment to snap out of whatever trance the sight of an island had him under and turns from his place on the figurehead with a brilliant smile to acknowledge him. “Oi Jinbe, dock her backwards, yeah?”
“Backwards, captain?”
“Yosh. We’ll be leaving Sunny alone, so at least she can look at the sea!”
“Ah.” Jinbe gives a single nod and wonders why he even bothers asking. Nami shakes her head with a sigh beside him, most likely sharing the sentiment, but nevertheless, an order is just that, and he likes to believe he knew what he signed up for when he pledged his loyalties. At any rate, it’ll be good for a possible swift escape.
The tiller feels right under his palms, the grooves of the wood akin to the waves guiding his moves as he relays commands to Sunny. It’s the easiest thing in the world steering her. She swims gracefully, eagerly responding and maneuvering with poise among the jutted-out rocks and shallower waters, and in no time at all they face (or rather have their backs to) the cove’s entrance.
From this distance the space between the stalactites appears way smaller, and Jinbe starts to think his and navigator’s talents combined might not be enough in this case, but before he can voice his concerns with the mechanical hum the foremast just, retracts a few feet and Sunny effortlessly slides in.
Both Nami and Luffy turn to him grinning widely, and he can only respond with the same.
𓆣
The anchor is dropped, remaining crew members awoken, and breakfast eaten in giddy rush— when having the ocean as the one and only true home, it’s easy to forget some people, despite choosing this way of life, still every now and then long for the comfort of the solid ground. Their journey from Wano was rather turbulent though, so it’s far more than understandable.
He gives them a brief recount of what he remembers about this island and its settlements, and thus they disperse with practiced efficiency into two groups: Nami, Brook, Sanji and Chopper on the resupply run, with Robin and Zoro keeping them company (or having their own agenda— they don’t really share their reasons, just quietly offering to tag along) to the nearest town; and Franky and Usopp on ship, installing what they’re calling “SUPER new SUPER loud SUPER proximity alarm v.2.0 (working title)”. Jinbe decides to help them from the waterfront, and soon is tasked with planting weird glowing dial-based devices along the rocks encircling the bay. It’s a pleasant exercise, even if he’s not sure what exactly he’s doing.
Worried glances are exchanged when Luffy wordlessly stays behind as well, perched on Sunny’s head with straw hat obscuring his face instead of running headfirst into the nearby forest, but no one really questions it. Luffy’s never shy to ask for what he wants or hesitant to do what he needs, so they trust him to say if he requires anything else than a little space. For now, they leave him be.
𓆣
Jinbe considers himself a rather smart man, a strategist. Surely not as bright or sly as the minds running this world; Government officials and their secrets, scientists working under Vegapunk or Revolutionists plotting from the shadows— but he relied on his intelligence in many sketchy situations, more often than not life-threatening ones, and it never led him astray. He doesn’t mock or underestimate his opponents, and this time shouldn’t be any different— hell, he thought he accounted well for the brain behind those calculating eyes, now crinkled up with silent laughter from across the table.
He never was so wrong in his entire life.
“It seems I have you cornered,” Robin says lightly, placing her golden general next to his king. “Again.”
It’s afternoon, hours after the return of the landing party, and they’ve been playing shogi ever since— with a rich lunch break in between of course— in the cool shade of the orchard. The weather outside the cave leans heavy on the late summer side, air humid and heavy, and the majority of the crew relaxes and tends to their hobbies throughout the ship— with the exception of Usopp, Chopper and Luffy, who having regained his vigor was exploring the cove’s inner beach with the other two.
“That you have.” Jinbe agrees, staring at yet another impossible to solve tsume problem. He suspects his first few wins, although not easily taken, were just a ploy to lull him into a false sense of security, and he admits that it worked without a hitch. How quickly he lowered his guard among Strawhats is still a little beyond him. (Or maybe not. A full and open trust and acceptance he continuously meets from this crew feels like nothing else he’s ever experienced before, and he is incapable of giving back anything less.)
Soft steps resound against the stairs and as fishman turns, he is greeted with a sight of living skeleton approaching with light bounce to his stride and a tray in hand. “Perhaps then the tea break is in order?”
Before he can make a move to help, sprouting out hands collect the playing pieces to their proper box and set it aside along with the board, clearing the table between them. Jinbe nods his thanks and leans back on his lawn chair with closed eyes and a cup of cooled down matcha, prepared perfectly as he likes. Its aroma mixes with the sweet soothing scent of the tangerine trees in full bloom, growing just above their heads— who would’ve thought life of a pirate could look like that. Brook settles beside him, boney fingers thrumming against his mug to the melody audible only to him, and Robin pulls up one of the books they’ve brought from the town. For a moment they sit in peaceful silence, enjoying each others company. For exactly a moment.
“Usopp, hurry up or we’ll leave you behind!” Sounds from the ship’s lower level.
“Well, I’m ready! I mean— just gotta-”
“GUM-GUM-”
“LUFFY NO—!”
“-ROOOOCKET!”
A heap of three bodies lands on the upper deck, almost crushing into them, with groans and cackles, and armfuls of green algae— Ulva species, if Jinbe hazards a guess. Luffy springs up to life instantly, pulling reindeer off Usopp’s face and hoisting him on his own shoulders, eliciting a new series of giggles. Wet seaweed dangles off their heads like tangly hair as he runs in circles around recovering sniper, only to collapse back into his lap, the two devil fruit users breathless from laughter and dizzy, both from the spinning and the stray droplets of salty water clinging to the plants.
“Oh my,” Robin, having paused her reading looks up at them and snickers, elegant fingers keeping the pages from closing. “I almost mistook you for our dear swordsman.”
Chopper yelps and Luffy laughs even harder as Usopp playfully squeezes them in a too tight hug against his bare chest, arms encircling them just to shove them off him, and climbs to his feet. “Ah. Zoro’s not back yet, is he?” He more or less states, looking around and receiving head shakes for confirmation.
He’s not. Jinbe was told to not give it too much thought when he didn’t return with the rest, because, as Sanji has put it with an eye roll and somewhat sharp grin, ‘he’s directionless idiot, but always finds his way back to us. Like a lost puppy,’. Luffy only seconded it with delighted snickers. It seems to be a reoccurring issue, so he’s dutifully filed it under the ‘normal things that just happen here’ and now continues to sip on his drink more or less unbothered.
“This guy, I swear…” Usopp sighs, scratching the prominent dent between his furrowed brows. “Well, the Great Captain Usopp will just have to go and yet again save him from his own plight…”
At that moment everyones’ attention is caught by some colorful material that thrusted with impressive force is flying directly at sniper fluttering like wings of mad butterfly, which he effortlessly grabs before it hits his nose and flicks few times to straighten it out. It doesn’t help much, but the print on the (clearly Franky’s) shirt makes the creases almost invisible anyway, and he puts it on with a huff.
“Gee, thanks.”
Nami, from the top of the stairs just gives him a shrug with a pointed look in response and sidesteps, making way for the spinning cook appearing from behind her.
“Here come light sandwiches for my dear Robin-chan~” He croons, gently placing two plates between their teas, and a separate one filled to the brim with mostly meat right in front of Luffy. “I guess you guys can have some too. There’s also gazpacho, sashimi with rice and hummus wraps prepared in the kitchen, nothing needing reheating. Oh, and leftovers in the fridge. I figured since it’s so hot colder dinner would be fine, but if you need me to-”
“I think we’re going to be quite alright. Thank you, Sanji.”
He swoons at archeologist’s (cut in) praise, and Usopp pushes him aside, fixing the collar of his newly acquired loose garment and repeating the offer that originated during the lunch.
“You guys sure you don’t wanna join us?”
When the crew came back from their short restock trip with the information of nice bar located in the neighboring town, Nami, Usopp and Sanji became rather enthusiastic about the idea of unwinding there come evening. Personally, Jinbe is way pass the juvenile need to get wasted in the company of total strangers, and much prefers to stay on the ship with the rest, but all the same endorses their plans.
“Very sure. You have fun though.”
“These bones are bit too old for clubbing I’m afraid.” Brook echoes, laughing off Usopp’s undignified squawk of ‘C’mon, it’s just one bar!’, and reaches for another little sandwich under cook’s narrowed gaze.
“Well, suit yourselves. Either way we’re off.” Nami grabs Usopp’s elbow and pulls him towards the plank, waving them off. “Maybe we’ll even find our wayward moss if we’re lucky.”
“Or unlucky.” Sanji adds nonchalantly, but before following the other two down and out to their destination for a night, his sharp eyes land on the captain. He looks uncharacteristically…unsure, as if he wants to say something more, bitting on the cigarette tugged at the corner of his mouth and slightly shifting his weight, polished shoes clicking against the wood. Luffy, of course, instantly notices the awkward energy emitting from the cook and not stopping munching on his snack meets his gaze, curious and blank for one second and tilting his head with finality in the other, silent conversation ending before it could even begin for anyone else’s acknowledgement.
“…just try not eating everything we bought today, you shitty captain.” He finally huffs and kicks off, sky-walking to the cave’s secret exit where Nami and Usopp are waiting for him. Jinbe eyes after them, and then turns back to Luffy, who seemingly without care in the world happily licks his fingers clean.
While the ability to communicate without a single word and have the others not only understand but easily follow through is a mark of great commander, and sure is impressive with the crew so young, the fishman can’t shake off the itch that something is quite not alright with their captain. There’s this air of melancholy about him— not as pungent and heavy as when Ace has died; Luffy’s whole being was akin to the setting sun then, dissolving into the cold ocean if not forcefully held above the surface for the first few days by the multiple capable hands— but something softer, quieter. Something that makes him put a distance between himself and the friends he cherishes so much, especially avoiding spending larger lengths of time with his peers, for some unknown reason. Still, Jinbe doesn’t feel like it’s his place nor the time yet to address it; not now at the very least.
A blanket of peace and quiet spreads again over the deck after their departure. Robin sinks back into her book after passing the rest of her sandwiches to Luffy, who eagerly accepts, throwing his feet through the railing and watching the dancing shapes in the water. Chopper makes a quick run to the infirmary, coming back with thick tome and a bunch of vials, some empty and some with colorful fluids inside, and then proceeds to organize the drying seaweed into smaller groups under the tangerine trees. Jinbe would like to offer his help to the young doctor, but frankly he’s not an expert by any means when it comes to the ocean’s plant life, and instead he sets out another game of shogi when Brook makes an inquiring hum.
It takes about two wins and one draw for the stillness to become too much for the hyperactive teen.
“Ne, Roooobin…” He drawls until she lifts her head and meets his gaze. “I’m booored.”
“I’m pretty sure you can still catch up to them.”
“Don’t wanna.”
“Cards then?”
Luffy groans exaggeratedly in response.
“Hmm, I’m not as good as storyteller as Usopp, but I could read you something…”
“Robin!”
He notices how Brook and Chopper grin under their noses (or rather, under the nasal hole and the snout, respectively), like it’s a common game— Luffy knowing his archeologist has a special treat for him, and she sees how long she can drag it out before inevitably giving it on a silver platter.
They engage in staring contest for a few more seconds, and then the smile curling her lips turns a little bit more mischievous and confirms Jinbe’s suspicion. “Alright, alright. I did hear an interesting story while in town. A legend if you will.”
“YES!” He pumps his fist in the air and falls to his back, looking at them upside down, “I knew you would find me an adventure, Thanks Robin!”
Sensing a good tale from miles away like the talented artisan he is, Brook picks up the violin and gently brushes the bow against it, shaping the melody as Robin starts the tale.
“Well, it is said that up until about 30 years ago, there was a rumor of a great treasure hidden somewhere in the depths of these forests and appearing only at the crack of dawn when first sun rays shone through the dew. The shimmering droplets were meant to guide to the gold, jewels, pearls, and most importantly, a map to the place with riches far greater, dwarfing those found around here.” She leans forward and props her chin on a hand, sparing a quick, soft glance to where Chopper’s eyes erupt with stars before continuing.
“And so, the island was continuously assaulted, people were hurt and driven away into hiding, and the villages plunged and robbed, almost to the point of complete destruction as some frustrated pirates tried to burn it all down, because no matter where they’ve looked they couldn’t find a thing fitting those descriptions— and if they couldn’t have it, no one would.”
The music abruptly stops as Robin breaths out, a flash of anger passing over her and reflecting in her friends’ features. It disappears just as quickly in the quiet anticipation of the rest of the story, but fishman can’t help but focus on the warm feeling blooming in his chest— the fearful crew of the Yonko, one of the strongest people in the world right now, so displeased with an ordinary, and honestly quite meek in the comparison to anything else, act of violence.
Truly, he couldn’t have found kinder humans to call his family.
“Then, on a one fortunate day, the Whitebeards arrived and took this island under their protection claiming it as their own. The people I’ve talked to said they couldn’t even offer anything as a tribute or in gratitude beside some natural resources that weren’t already destroyed, but apparently it wasn’t needed at all. The pirates stayed for a few weeks on a shore leave, and then sailed away without much preamble, leaving their flag in their wake as the only proof they’ve even been here.”
“Over the time the rumors died down and faded into oblivion— now hardly anyone remembers a much detail about it. Whereas the treasure really was here and was found or not, remains unknown, but even after his death the land stays untouched and of no interest to the raiders.”
There’s a beat of silence, a homage to one of the greatest that walked this world.
“Sounds like Newgate alright.” He concurs fondly. The old man had a special talent for finding things that would benefit from his care, and tendency to adopt them without a second thought or much of a reason— his unique kind of freedom to choose what was his to protect. After all, he acted similarly with the Fishman Island, for which Jinbe will be grateful for the rest of his life and then some.
“Mhm, mhm,” Luffy nods along wisely, “Mystery adventure and treasures for Nami. That’s great!”
Archeologist inclines her head in neither confirmation nor denial, a knowing look gracing her face as she observes the captain, whose eyes are set alight and wide grin is stretching his face. He vigorously stands up and fixes his hat straight on, energy almost visibly rippling through him.
“Okay, let’s go guys!” He hollers, and this might as well be an order, because both Brook and Robin instantly raise to their feet and make their way to the grass deck, just as Franky emerges from the ship’s belly. He has a big backpack with him that he places on the floor, and a minute later a set of lunchboxes walks straight into it in a single file on a tiny, summoned feet. Cyborg then hoists the bag onto his broad back and reaches for Robin’s again uncrossed hands, to which she softly giggles, and they begin to disembark. Somehow, Brook’s already down on the beach in completely different outfit, his cane in hand, guitar strapped to his hip and all raring to go.
And here Jinbe thought he was beyond being easily astonished.
Luffy crouches by the reindeer still seated under the grove, petting and scratching his furry head, hat long gone discarded somewhere due to the heat. “Chopper’s staying?”
“Yeah, I want to see if I can make salve out of these algae.” His nose scrunches adorably as he pouts. “You know, since the last one was all used up on you and Zoro.”
“Shishishi, sorry.”
Chopper rolls his eyes and brushes him off. “Just go. And please, be more careful?”
With a dismissive laugh Luffy backflips back to the standing position, grabs the topgallant yard with outstretched hand and zeroes his attention on his helmsman.
He has a very bad feeling about this.
“Alright Jinbe, what are you waiting for?” He bares his teeth in an impish fashion, and not even waiting for an answer wraps his other arm few times tightly around fishman like a snake ready to suffocate and devour his pray. And pulls.
The last thing he hears is Chopper’s screech of ‘I said careful, you bastard!’ and then the rush of air drowns out everything else. His stomach flips at the weightless state and the high-pressure thrums behind his eyes as he fights to keep them opened— but the impending cave’s wall quickly convinces him otherwise and he shuts them, not exactly eager to see his remains splashed against the white stone. It’s way worse than Big Mom’s Soul Pocus; there might be actual sounds of panic escaping his throat.
In some miraculous twist of fate, or maybe just years of practice flying into objects at disturbing speeds, Luffy haphazardly changes the direction of their swing, and they bounce off in a cocoon of inflated rubber, hitting the ground beside the rest of the awaiting crew mostly unscathed.
Mostly. (Jinbe unwillingly remembers the contents of their last meal and duly notes he much prefers it without the acidic aftertaste.)
To literally no one’s surprise Luffy’s completely unfazed by the whole ordeal, already shooting out towards the obscured by the rocks passageway to the remaining part of island and scooping Robin and Franky up as he goes, never meeting any protest from the other two— perhaps it’s just another thing to get used to. Jinbe sighs, and gathers himself up as well.
“I would say it gets better, but I don’t exactly have the guts to be that much affected, yohohoho.” Brook offers with a sympathetic tone and extended hand, seeing how fishman’s a little shaken up by the unconventional travel method. He takes it, and they follow their rambunctious captain into the woods.
𓆣
The weather starts to get more bearable as the late afternoon fully sets in, and while it’s still way warmer than what he prefers, the high humidity lying heavy on his dry skin provides a layer of moisture enough to make the walk enjoyable. His sandals click lightly against the natural stoney tiles covering the ground and his senses are overwhelmed with the rich greens and browns of the forest; vibrant plants thriving for miles and miles, their smell deep and fragrant earthy tones. The insects’ lowly buzzing in the background makes for a relaxing ambiance too, despite the thirst for blood of some.
Their music is accompanied by the rhythmic tapping of Brook’s cane.
However nimble and swift skeleton’s movements are on the ever-undulating sea, he seems a bit unsteady on the solid ground, and more prone to supporting his featherweight on the walking stick-like sword —as if he’s so used to the constant up and downs of waves that anything more stable makes him feel almost contrarily untethered. Jinbe absolutely symphatizes, and doesn’t mind slower pace one bit.
And so, the two of them are a few feet behind the group, spectators of the merry exploration before them.
Robin confidently leads the way, every once and again stopping to inspect the path for any clues or peek into the notebook where she has written down the pieces of information extrapolated from the villagers’ accounts and the legend itself. She’s completely in her element and brimming with pure joy— even from the distance her eyes spark with giddy excitement as she occasionally turns to the rustle of leaves and exchanges glances with all that noise’s source. Speaking of, Luffy also seems like he’s where he belongs— swinging on the vines with exceptional dexterity, flashing between the branches and sticking his head into every little bush as if the greatest mysteries of the world hide themselves right there under his nose. Amidst his echoing laughter he shouts out words to the disfigured melody that had to be a song at one point, and Franky backs him up with loud vocals of his own, trying to correct the tune— thankfully with much better results. His large figure without issue brushes through the greenery, breaking and shoving away whatever’s in his way, and clearing the passage for Brook and him.
“How bizarre…”
Jinbe looks up to the side as the words are uttered, and prompts skeleton to continue with a tilt of his head.
“Oh, it’s nothing really, it’s just that…” Fidgeting with the guitar strap he falters, as if he wasn’t expecting to be heard, and his breath comes out almost ragged against his ribs. “It’s just that, observing from the back as they run around, bicker and play, so full of energy and vigor and life— well, it all sometimes feels like a dreamed-up scenario conjured in the fog of my years. Like I’m-I…”
Brook stops abruptly, both in tracks and in his comment, sheeted sword falling deafly to the ground. His whole imposing posture slacks, unmoving and looking quite literally dead— from the spindly limbs swaying in the light gust of wind to his suddenly expressionless skull, preoccupied with unspoken thought. Or perhaps more accurately, a memory. (This too, Jinbe was made aware quite shortly after his welcome, is an unfortunately repeating occurrence.)
Under the surface, the Florian Triangle is one of the most peaceful stretches of the ocean. The constant fog assures that no sunlight can get into the water column, and thus: no seaweed, no fish, barely any seakings lying in wait for the poor castaways and lost souls. The convergence of lukewarm waters, calm, predictable currents and low salinity makes it almost seem like it’s a lake resort rather than a graveyard, and some fishmen as a matter of fact started to move their businesses to cover that demand, building a small quaint village from the wreckage of sunken ships. (He actually knows two guards of King Neptune’s army that take their annual vacation there, allured by the simplicity of it all and the environment imitating one of the inland wetlands, but without the prospect of intermingling with humans.)
But above the level of water all those ‘merits’ plummet down faster than a boat with a damaged keel.
He can only pretend to imagine what being stuck in a monotonous, bleak place like this might feel like, and for as many years as Brook had been— his only association would be the Impel Down, and although the stay was wretched and unquotable, for the better or worse he was neither alone nor that long in there. Companionship in misery oftentimes is the only tether keeping the mind sane, and to be deprived even of that for a half of the century is quite unthinkable.
So, instead of pushing for explanation or shaking him out of the trance, Jinbe picks up the cane and feeling every little bone shifting in his grasp, gently grabs his cold hand, wordlessly guiding him ahead. Skeleton’s rigidness forces them to move even slower, more careful, and the chatter from the front becomes more distant— but there’s no rush, there’s still a good couple of hours before the sundown and the path back to the ocean is straightforward enough it would take a real effort to get lost.
After a moment of walking in complete silence, Brook spurs back alive with coy laugh and squeezes their intertwined fingers in appreciation, picking up the pace on his own.
“Yohoho, my apologies. The reality is so… elusive at times.”
“No problem my friend, I don’t mind at all.” Jinbe is quick to reassure, letting go of the ivory limb. It hangs idly in the air between them before Brook clears his nonexistent throat and reclaims his sword.
“Well, what I wanted to say is that—it’s bizarre to feel both so aged and so young all at once. Luffy-san—”
Loud yelp reverberates through the woods, followed by a crash of stones tumbling down and slightly shaking the ground, kicking up clouds of dust and silencing any and all bugs and birds hidden in the foliage.
And amidst it all, a booming giggle, ringing like a thousand little bells.
Brook smiles back to the small calamity awaiting them ahead, fondness evident on his skeletal features.
“Over and over again he reaches out for my century old bones like there’s nothing odd about them— like they are not frail, and seen much but still not nearly close to guide and help him in any meaningful way— like they’re worthy of being alive, still, or maybe in spite of it. Like their ability to play music and simply exist is a reason enough to want them around, to drag them to the impossible to win, and yet victorious battles, and wonder-filled quests changing the meaning of what can be achieved with a right mindset— and I am again but a youngster, on my very first adventure, seeing glimmer around every corner.”
Then he suddenly turns his head to fully face Jinbe and asks in revenant whisper, “Beautiful, is it not?” Awe is coloring his voice softly and the dual dark holes he has for the eyes shine almost as if the roots of Sunlight Tree Eve themselves hide behind that ocean-deep blackness. Despite the lack of skin, Jinbe can see without a trouble the young man Brook is referring to. Beautiful indeed.
“Ever since the light returned to my life, I find myself awaiting each new day with a childlike wonder and not just a dream-heavy soul. It’s hard to believe fate would be that fortunate.” He concludes somewhat sheepishly, perhaps surprised a bit with the sincerity of his little out of the blue speech, but there’s a steadfast faith as he searches fishman’s face for the understanding he already knows he’ll find.
His response bubbles deep in his stomach, rumbles low in his chest, and he lets it out, spilling from his lips in peals of laughter. It’s guttural and husky, a lot louder than he’s used to and full of shared sentiment, because yes, there’s nothing akin to the way Luffy influences one’s life. And while each experience certainly is unique, one-of-a-kind moment that marks the before and the after, the immense hope and the clarity of conviction, the instant connection, the love… if it could even be summarized at all, ‘the light returning’ undoubtedly fits quite nicely.
“Yes, I wasn’t aware life could feel that exciting again.” Jinbe easily agrees as he catches his breath. For all the intoxicating thrill he’s already experienced knowing the Strawhats for the relatively short while, he is sure that it’s just the tip of the iceberg that awaits them in the grand scheme of things. The days before them are long and most likely full of hardships, but they set the scene for the most unbelievable adventure yet, and he’s more than delighted to be a part of it.
After all, one can expect no less than the unexpected from the future Pirate King.
As if summoned by mere mentioning, there’s another booming sound from the path in front of them followed by the familiar flip-flop of the sandals, and soon after the strawhat and its bearer run into full view, all snaking-up limbs and a grin too wide to contain by any known measures. (Not that the fishman would ever want to attempt to, or let anyone else dare to try.) He rolls in like a thunder on a clear day, strong and uncaring of what, if anything, will be left in its wake, demanding their attention and presence.
“Guys, HURRY UP ALREADY! Robin found something fun!”
And they happily follow, wherever he may lead.