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Brook didn’t really know what to expect when you’d invited him and the crew to the annual Día de los Muertos festival that took place in your hometown. You’d given them a brief description, convincing Luffy with the promise of there being loads of food, and enticing the others by mentioning the festive atmosphere— liquor included. But to be honest, they didn’t need much convincing to accompany you in a fun night of celebrating the traditional festival that was so dear to you.
“So… they celebrate… the dead?” Brook had hesitantly asked as he refilled your cup of tea, trying to gain a better understanding of the holiday. You nodded, taking a hold of the cup’s handle in your fingers. You figured your daily afternoon tea was the perfect time to let him know a little bit more about the cultural tradition that your people took part in every year.
“Yes, it’s basically a giant party. There will be food, dancing… music,” you said, smirking ever so slightly when his expression seemed to light up at the mention of music. He could never deny the chance at partaking in any activity that included music.
But even with your insistence that it was a joyful occasion, he still couldn’t wrap his head around the fact that death was treated as anything other than a solemn event. After all— that’s how people always treated it when he was alive, and even when he himself had that fateful encounter that resulted in him becoming a skeleton, a redeemed life was seen as the prize, not death itself. All he could manage to envision was a glorified funeral, at best.
He was incredibly wrong.
Now, Brook stands in slight shock at the frenzied commotion that appears before him. He waits outside on the steps leading up to your small, cozy house while you finish getting ready, but already the sharp smell of incense tingles his senses, barely managing to distract him from the sound of music being played all across town as it blends with friendly conversations and laughter. He recognizes the instruments being used, a beautiful ensemble of guitars, trumpets, and violins— although the tunes are distinctly different from what he knows, for they carry traditional melodies of old in their songs. But the sight. The sight is enough to take his nonexistent breath away.
All across the streets, there are skeletons and skulls being celebrated. Motifs of death can be found in the papel picado and other decorations. Meanwhile, people parade in their own skeletal makeup, littering the floor with bright orange and yellow flower petals. He makes a mental note to ask you about that later, since he can’t help but continue to be enchanted by the atmosphere. Everywhere he looks, he sees people like him. What’s more, they seem to be impressed by his appearance, probably assuming that he is the product of a well-made costume. But he doesn’t mind, because he feels warmth in realizing that for once, people don’t seem to fear him and his bony presence.
Though it is night, the streets of your hometown are lit up with a great variety of candles and festive lights, offering their illumination to the ofrendas, or altars, that they are placed upon. Brook decides to take a peek at the altar placed on the outer corner of your family’s house, still waiting for you as you get ready. He is the only one who decided to wait for as long as he has.
Luffy was the first to escape the crew’s watch, chasing the scent of food being prepared, with Zoro begrudgingly following behind to make sure he didn’t cause any unnecessary trouble. Sanji has been busy trying to woo some of the ladies in the plaza up the road, much to their indifference. The others then made their own way to the plaza where the dancing was being held. You had told them you’d meet them up there once you were done getting ready. But Brook, being the gentleman he is, remained on the steps of your house. When he observes with curiosity the old photographs you have placed on your altar, his attention is then diverted to the light spilling out from the inside of your house as you open the front door. For the second time this evening, he feels his breath be taken from his soul.
You gingerly step out, pausing at the top of the steps to give Brook a moment to process your outfit. You don a traditional cotton dress embroidered with colorful flowers, meant to match the vibrant blooms placed delicately in the crown of your head. Yet, this all pales in comparison to your makeup— which embodies the appearance of a traditional Catrina. In other words, your face has been painted to seem like a skull, detailed with little colorful floral designs. You remain still, anxious for Brook’s reaction, until it seems he’s been startled from a trance. He extends a bony hand towards you, taking a formal step forward on the steps.
“My dearest… words aren’t merely enough to describe how beautiful you are tonight,” he states, his words dripping with affection. You let out a soft sigh, then chuckle while you take his hand.
“Thank you, Brook,” you reply, letting him lead you down the steps of your house and onto the bustling celebration below.
As you two make your way through the festivities and towards the plaza to meet with the rest of the crew, Brook can’t help but voice his observations out loud.
“Yohoho! It’s so… lively,” he says, his vision going back and forth between all the different people. You let out a huff of amusement as you watch him be blown away by the sight.
“That’s right. In my culture, death is not the end of the road, but an achievement in itself. Día de los Muertos is a way to celebrate the life that our past loved ones have had, instead of mourning their loss,” you explain, taking Brook’s skeletal fingers in your own. He turns to you, unable to constrain his pure admiration. He lets you continue as you point out the numerous ofrendas on display.
“We help our ancestors feel at home once a year by setting up altars with their pictures and their favorite foods from when they were alive. And the cempasúchil help guide them on their journey to the Land of the Dead,” you say, gesturing to the piles of marigold flowers and their petals that are scattered everywhere. Ah, so that’s what they’re for, Brook internally muses.
For the rest of the night, you and Brook partake in the festivities that your town offers. You even let him try the traditional pan de muerto, to which he heartily approves of. Eventually, you two meet up with the rest of the Straw Hats in the plaza, where a live band plays traditional dancing music. Brook, being the quick learner that he is, manages to pick up on all the essential moves, and begins to lead you both in a dance. It’s not the first time you both have danced, and it surely won’t be the last, but something about tonight makes you seem even more captivating to Brook. Perhaps it’s your skull makeup, or the way the warm candlelight catches on your hair, casting your face into a warm glow. But all he knows is that tonight has opened a new perspective on death. It’s never been something to fear or be saddened by— but something to celebrate and rejoice over. For the longest time, he felt guilt over being the only of his old crew to be revived. However, having the privilege to partake in this part of your heritage has made him realize that he is truly lucky to have been given a second chance.
Because now, he has you to cherish. And that was something worth celebrating.