A gentle sea, where the morning mist veiled the horizon.
A single ship lay at anchor, its bow pointed toward the rising sun. A black flag fluttered above—pirates.
A man sat on the railing near the bow. He was a middle-aged figure sporting a magnificent, long beard and a worn-out hat adorned with a large feather. He wore a coat so stained with soot it looked like part of the design.
He drank heavily, wetting his mustache with rum, not caring as drops spilled onto his clothes. He looked the picture of unhealthiness. Beside him sat a young boy, staring intently at the man.
The man pulled the bottle from his lips, lowered his arm, and spoke.
"Pirates are free."
It was such a sudden declaration. Why bring that up now? the boy thought, sighing with deliberate exaggeration.
It was something he heard constantly, from this man and the rest of the crew. He didn't need a lesson on it; he remembered it, and he was already trying to embody it. He looked at the man with a touch of exasperation, assuming he was just drunk in a weird way again.
The man took a bite of what he held in his left hand.
Sakuramochi. A pink rice cake wrapped in a leaf. While true sakuramochi used cherry blossom leaves, they were hard to come by at sea, so they used a substitute.
It was the only thing this clumsy man, who couldn't cook to save his life, knew how to make. A special item even the ship's cook couldn't replicate.
He chewed, then tilted the bottle again.
A few gulps. He washed the sticky sweetness down with strong alcohol.
The boy took a bite of the sakuramochi in his own hand.
It was a taste he loved. Because the man rarely made them, they tasted exceptional. Yet, despite the delicious flavor, the boy didn't look happy. He stared at the sea with a strangely serious expression.
"Take this, for example. Eating sakuramochi and washing it down with rum."
The man took another bite, then another drink. He swallowed and exhaled sharply.
"It is an exquisitely terrible match."
"That's bad, isn't it?"
"It is not bad. The point is, I chose it. I eat what I want to eat, and I drink what I want to drink. Even if they don't go together."
He ate the rest of the cake and swigged the bottle, his mouth twisting into a good-natured grimace.
"It doesn't fit at all. It's the best."
"I don't get it. It's obviously better if it tastes good."
"Nothing is obvious. Who decided how the world works? Just a bunch of self-righteous hypocrites with stupid looks on their faces. To hell with rules. that is how we live."
The man held the bottle out to the boy.
The boy stared at the bottle gripped in the man's right hand. After a moment of hesitation, he snatched it away without fear.
The other crew members always told him not to drink, but this man handed it over easily. Surprised but seeing it as a chance to be an adult, the boy tilted the bottle and drank.
"You are the one who chooses. Always. Whether to attack or retreat, to steal or raid, or even whether to pair rum with rice cakes. You choose, you decide, and you accept whatever reality comes from that choice. That is freedom."
The man spoke without looking at the boy, who hadn't changed his expression despite the burning liquid sliding down his throat. The man's voice was quiet, slightly intimidating to outsiders, but full of kindness to his crew.
The world called him an eccentric, but to the boy, he was a massive presence—someone he trusted implicitly.
"You're a brat, but you're a pirate. Chart your own course. A life spent just chasing someone else's ass is boring as hell."
Watching the man gaze out at the sea as he spoke, the boy looked away without a word.
He thought about what the man had just done.
He had eaten the sakuramochi, drank the liquor, and swallowed them together. His expression hadn't changed much, but he had looked... somehow happy.
"Yeah. It's an exquisitely terrible match."
"That is freedom."
The man chuckled low in his throat. He seemed to be in a good mood.
The morning sun began to rise, illuminating the vast ocean.
It was a morning where, though he couldn't quite put it into words, the boy felt he had learned something.
This was a memory from when he had only just become a pirate.
The sea was dark, shrouded in a deep mist that gave off an eerie atmosphere.
Thick clouds covered the sky, the air was heavy and stagnant, and the ocean, which should have been blue, looked black in every direction. No seabirds, no fish. A creepy place devoid of life.
This sea was known as the Florian Triangle.
A mysterious stretch of ocean from which those who wandered in rarely escaped. Rumors said over a hundred ships went missing here every year.
And drifting right in the middle of it was a pirate ship.
On the quiet, empty deck stood a single figure.
His appearance was anything but ordinary.
It wasn't just his face; his entire body was devoid of skin and flesh. He was a skeleton. Exposed white bone dressed in a black suit, topped—for some reason—with a massive afro. He walked not like a dead man, but like a human being.
In his hand, he held a violin. This, at least, was a normal, beautiful instrument.
The figure, hardly looking human, gazed at the silent ship with eyeless sockets.
He raised the violin and began to play elegantly.
At first, it was quiet. A delicate performance, as if carefully choosing each note. It started as a melody to soothe the soul, but gradually, the intensity grew. Soon, it transformed into a raucous performance that made the strings scream.
He was intentionally making noise.
"Yohohohoho! Morning has come, everyone~! Please wake uuuuup!"
The screeching sound of the violin echoed from the deck into the ship, rousing the sleepers. Immediately, the ship became noisy with the thudding of footsteps.
Men from the lower decks stormed up.
Bursting through the doors, they shouted at the skeleton who was happily playing his atrocious tune.
"Shut uuuuuup!!"
"Hey, Brook! We told you to think about your song selection! My ears are breaking!"
"Morniiing! It is mooorning, everyone!"
"We're up already!"
The skeleton called Brook stopped playing at the sound of their voices.
Though he had no skin or facial muscles, he seemed to be smiling as he raised his right hand to greet them enthusiastically. A stark contrast to the men clutching their ears.
"Yohohoho! Good morning, everyone! It's another lovely morning~!"
"Lovely morning? It's the same as always."
"Visibility sucks because of the fog."
"We're drifting, you know."
"But being together makes it fun regardless! My, what a wonderful start to the day!"
Brook spoke with a bounce in his voice, clearly in high spirits.
He was the polar opposite of the tired, bleary-eyed crew.
"Well then, I shall go help out! Yohohohoho!"
Brook ran off energetically toward the ship's interior.
The men watched him go, exchanging wry, resigned smiles. They couldn't stay mad at him, not after hearing his story.
"That guy sure has energy..."
"Well, he was drifting alone for decades. He's just happy to be here."
"He's a handful. But, I guess it's good we found him."
They were the Velvet Pirates.
Led by their captain, several members were known bounties. Since entering the Grand Line, they had made a name for themselves through various incidents and were expected to survive into the latter half of the sea.
Brook was the newest addition, picked up only a few days ago.
Brook entered the galley.
As soon as he did, the cook turned around, and simultaneously, a small boy smiled at him.
First, the boy with pale blonde hair beckoned him over.
His name was Kiri.
Perhaps due to his natural curiosity, he had taken a liking to this mysterious moving skeleton.
"Brook! Hurry, hurry!"
"Good morning, Kiri-san. What is it?"
Brook entered the kitchen as called.
Kiri immediately moved to stand in front of the oven. Brook followed with interest, but the cook, busy with another task, called out to him.
"Yo, Brook. You were loud as hell again today. Don't you have any other songs?"
"This is the best for waking up. It opens your eyes right up! Though in my case, I don't have eyes to open! Yohohohoho!"
"Good grief..."
Smiling with slight exasperation, the cook returned to his work.
Brook turned his attention back to the oven Kiri was watching, bending his spine to peek inside.
"It's almost done."
"Ah. Is this..."
Wearing thick oven mitts, Kiri opened the oven door.
Inside, glowing a warm wheat color, was bread. Round loves lined up in rows—apparently, Kiri had made them. The smell wafted out, making Brook feel good even without a nose.
Brook stared, captivated, as Kiri pulled the tray out.
Taking off the mitts, Kiri picked up a piece of bread with his bare hands.
He held it in front of Brook's face, grinning mischievously.
"Watch this..."
He pressed his fingertips into the bread and tore the round loaf in two.
Steam and aroma burst forth. The fluffy texture and the steaming cross-section jumped into view.
Watching from inches away, Brook leaned back, clutching his cheeks in sheer delight. Even as a skeleton, he seemed to have an appetite, looking as if he might drool.
Kiri laughed happily at the reaction, looking up at the tall skeleton.
"Wow~ it looks delicious! Did you make this, Kiri-san?"
"Yup. It's the only thing they admit I'm good at."
"No, truly, it looks amazing. I won't be able to hold back!"
"Really? Here, half for you."
"Eh? May I?"
Kiri held out one of the halves.
Just as a surprised Brook reached for it, the cook turned around with a scolding look.
"Hey, don't decide that on your own."
"It's fine, isn't it? Just one."
"Can't help it... Don't let the others catch you."
"Yes!"
"Thank you, Flannel-san! Well then, don't mind if I do!"
With a wry smile from the cook, permission was granted. The two looked at each other, opened their mouths wide, and bit into the freshly baked bread.
The fluffy texture. The fragrant scent.
Brook straightened his spine in an instant reaction, and Kiri grinned, satisfied with his work.
"Deliciouuuus! This is incredible, Kiri-san!"
"Hehe, right? Even Flannel can't beat me at bread."
"What are you talking about? I'm the one who taught you."
Ignoring the cook's grumbling, the two smiled and ate the bread. They ate fast, finishing it only moments after the first bite.
Timing it perfectly as they chewed, the cook spoke up.
"Alright, snacking time is over. Get to work. The soup is ready, and those guys will be here any minute."
"Okay~."
"Brook, you help too. We've got mountains of work."
"Yohoho, of course! I will work hard to repay you for picking me up!"
At the cook's order, Kiri and Brook began to move frantically.
The crew was large. Meal prep was always a battle, usually handled only by the cook and Kiri. For the sake of their comrades who ate hard and partied harder, they ran back and forth, plating food and pouring drinks.
It was while Kiri was pouring the finished soup into bowls that the cook looked up, remembering something.
"By the way, someone needs to wake the Captain. Kiri, go do it."
"Eh~ me again? He's always cranky in the morning."
"You're the only one who can get into his room. He won't kill you, so you'll be fine."
"It's a pain every single time... Velvet should just wake up by himself already."
"Tell that to his face."
Kiri left his station and walked out of the kitchen. He didn't look happy about it, muttering complaints under his breath, but he didn't seem to consider ignoring the order.
In the hallway, he passed crewmates heading for breakfast.
They were all adults, much older than Kiri. Seeing the youngest member of the crew, their expressions softened.
"Yo, Kiri. Hard at work I see."
"Going to Velvet's place again?"
"Yep. Hey, can't I just break the Captain's door down?"
"Ahahaha! That's a good idea!"
"But you're the only one who can do it. If we tried, he might actually kill us."
"Tch. I thought it was a good idea."
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