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