Yo! Qwaszxedc9 here! XD
Sorry for the super long wait. Thank you for waiting! I love you guys!
I'm supposed to be studying... Oh well.
Reconstructed as of 05/01/2013 with thanks to Creative Advisor and Beta-Reader Brunetta6.
Edited as of 20/05/2015 (I was busy sorry)
ENJOY!
His Days of Insomnia
Day 4
Day 4 – 1.35am
He stares.
"Chopper-san, moshi moshi…" he whispers, shaking the little doctor's hammock gently. The furry doctor makes a tiny groan as he rolls over, turning away from the speaker.
"Your watch is next."
The tiny zoan pulls the blanket over himself.
"Please wake up~!"
The little reindeer groans again, pushing his head into the pillow, and rubbing his face with his hoofs. "Good morning~!" he adds, still shaking the hammock lightly as the cute doctor groans once more and rubs his hoofs over his eyes, blinking sleepily.
"URGGHHHHHH!" the hammock flips and the doctor slams headfirst into the ground.
He supposes that he shouldn't have woken the little doctor up in such a way – bony skull staring creepily at the doctor in the dark. It would have scared anyone.
"BROOK! DON"T SCARE ME LIKE THAT!" the little doctor shoots up and yells at the unmoving skeleton, flailing his hoofs around.
A few irritated grunts are heard in the background, as well as a soft whisper of "Nami-swan~" and a couple smacking of lips. He supposes they were quite loud. It's a wonder no one awoke from the tiny doctor's yell.
"Yohohoho. My apologies," he says, taking a step back to give the little zoan room to move. He really is sincere about this apology. If this had happened to him, he would have been terrified to death!
Oh, but he was already dead~! Yohohoho~! Skull joke~!
"Aah… what's the time now?" the doctor yawns, hoof over his mouth, previous trauma forgotten.
He wonders, is he asking about the time on his ship, in reality, or the time on this ship, in this hallucination? Dreams don't really follow an exact sequence of time, after all. He does see his crewmates alive every now and then when he sleeps, and it might be due to having the same boring dreams again and again that his mind decided to be generous and conjure up all these wonderful people.
He supposes the doctor is obviously asking about the latter.
"It's around 1:30am or so," he answers, tilting his head slightly toward the little reindeer. Said little reindeer nods and trots towards the door. A gentle creak of the door, a soft click, and the door was closed.
He turns to his side, heading toward his own hammock. Slowly, so as not to trouble anyone, he climbs into the hanging wooden box, sinks into the cushion, and pulls his blanket up.
He stares.
It has been confirmed, truly confirmed. None of this can be real. He knows he should wake up soon… no. He MUST wake up soon. The hope, the temptation to believe, the desire, the wish that this whole dream was real, was far, far too much to bear.
It's too much.
He has to wake up soon.
He needs to.
He has to.
The door creaks open clumsily, and shuts a wee bit too loudly. Footsteps sound across the ground. The sniper is not a stealthy person.
He nods.
Said sniper clumbers into the hammock, causing all the hammocks to bounce heavily, inciting a couple of sleep-disrupted-induced groans. There was a sudden pause as the sniper froze, waiting for the hammocks to still, before continuing the journey into the hammock. Once inside, a whip of cloth against cloth is heard and sniper immediately begins snoring.
His non-existent eyebrow rose. He never knew one could fall asleep so easily. He never could.
He stares.
The door gently creaks open again; he hears gentle tapping of hoofs across the floor. Then he hears a sound that resembled landing from a height. Rather loud, to be honest.
Hushed whispers came in the form of squeaks from the doctor. "Sanji! You're already awake? You might wake the others!"
"Nah, they're too heavily asleep to wake up. I might as well get a head start on breakfast since I'm up earlier," the cook replies, then a rustle of a jacket and he opens the door, closing it fast but gently. The doctor slowly tiptoed across the floor, then hops onto his bed with minimum rocking, before falling asleep almost immediately.
He stares.
Laying down on the hammock staring into blank space is actually really boring, especially without sleep looming over him. He sits up. The sun would rise soon, and he might as well get up earlier. Perhaps playing a few tunes in the morning would relieve him of his sleep deprived stress. Or maybe keep him in this lovely dream for just – merely – a tiny bit longer.
He rolls the blanket up, and places it below his pillow. Those memories of the beautiful taste of food, and that incredibly throbbing pain should have been enough to convince him – even if just a little – that this was not a dream.
It seemed like one though.
If he did succumb to sleep's pull, would he finally wake to find that it was but a dream? Surely this was a dream, a fantasy, a nightmare, taunting him while he rested in that shadowy, humid sea.
It wouldn't be the first time.
He lands lightly beside the hammock, and opens the door. Glancing around, he heads for the only other place, other than the bird's nest (probably the swordsman training at night), with lights on at the moment – the gallery.
The gallery door slides open and he steps in. The tantalizing aromas of frying foods invaded his senses.
He could smell it. That mouth-watering aroma.
He sits down. The cook glances up. He expected the cook to question as to why he supposedly awoke, or perhaps apologize for supposedly disturbing his non-existent sleep, or maybe enquire what foods he might prefer. He had an answer ready for them.
"Have you been sleeping?" the cook questions.
He hadn't expected that. "Excuse me?" He didn't have a ready answer.
The cook narrows his eyes. "I asked, you shitty skeleton, did you sleep at all?" he questions again, setting his pan down and turning towards him.
How should he answer that? In fact, how did the cook know? Yesterday? In the cabin?
Why would it matter?
Ah... Or was that question just asked to enquire about whether he had been awoken by the cook, back in the cabin?
"Yohohoho... No worries, Sanji-san. You didn't disturb my sleep, I was already awake," he replies. It should be what the question was asking.
But that didn't seem to be the case. The cook visibly frowns further. "No, that's not what I asked. I asked if you slept at all," the blonde says, eyes watching him closely.
He froze. What can he reply? What should he reply?
Why should it matter?
The cook sighs.
"Che. So you didn't." The cook straightens up and returns to preparing breakfast, adding the finishing touches.
He blinks.
"Yohohoho~! Why do you ask?" He is curious. Why would whether or not he slept affect his imagination? Maybe because they were real?
No, that's obviously not right.
The cook didn't even pause his cooking.
"Because, you shitty skeleton, we're not disappearing anytime soon," the blonde simply states, not even looking up from his finishing touches to the breakfast, as if it were so simple, so obvious.
He tensed.
"Sanji! Breakfast!"
A very recognizable voice slams open the door. The rubber captain comes bouncing in. The cook's veins pops. "Wait until I'm done! You shitty gomu!"
The captain goes flying out the gallery door from a powerful kick.
"Eh…? But I'm hungry now!" the captain complains, bouncing right back in.
He's not really listening closely anymore.
His mind keeps repeating those words, repeating them, repeating like a broken stereo.
We're not disappearing anytime soon.
We're not disappearing anytime soon.
…
Really?
That tiny, tiny, insignificant bit of hope, it returned to him, like a spark for a fire.
We're not disappearing anytime soon.
We're not disappearing anytime soon.
…
Really?
Day 4 – 11.00am
The fog had cleared, sunlight burning down.
He settles himself onto the bench in front of the mast, bony finger hooked around his half-empty teacup. Sipping gently, his non-existent pupils follow the outline the cheerful, energetic captain bouncing across the deck.
He stares.
"Zoro~! Come play catch with us!" the captain yells, hopping onto the swordsman as said swordsman jerks awake. The little doctor and the sniper hop across the deck to join the captain, arms swinging around.
"Luffy! Don't jump on me!" the now-awake swordsman growls half-heartedly.
"But Zoro~! Let's play!" the rubber captain pouts, as the other two move closer.
"Zoro! Can we play?" the little doctor squeaks, eyes almost sparkling.
"Yeah, yeah Zoro!" the sniper nods furiously, agreeing. The swordsman sighs, and shuts his eyes, leaning back.
"No way."
"Ehh? Zoro~ Come on! It'll be fun!" the captain rationalises, nodding, obviously convinced that his main reason for doing anything would persuade the swordsman into agreement. He was ignored, however. The sniper, in a moment of genius, thought of an excellent idea.
"Ne, Zoro, don't tell me…" the liar smirked, giving out tiny bursts of laughter. "You scared of losing?"
The swordsman jumped up at that, growling. "What did you say…?"
The sniper immediately twirls around, and dashes off, yelling at the top of his lungs, "Zoro's scared~!" The other two took that as some sort of signal, dashing off in a cloud of dust, the swordsman hot on all three's heels.
"Zoro's it!" the captain yells, laughing at the top of his lungs at the growling swordsman coming after him.
"Zoro's scary!" the little doctor screams, shifting into walk point to better escape from the fuming swordsman.
He stares.
Not real.
None of this, none of it, not the captain, or the swordsman, or the beautiful navigator, or any – any – of this wonderful crew were real. None. No one.
All a dream.
A magnificent, wondrous dream. But a dream nonetheless.
All but a dream.
We're not disappearing any-
He had to – has to – awaken soon.
This was too beautiful a dream. Too much hope, too much promise.
Far, far too much to bear.
We're not disappearing-
The spark of hope flickered within him, a mere glint shining through, before he crushed it mercilessly.
His nakama were gone. He thought he had come to terms with it, what with 50 years in a fog with all their bones scattered around, but apparently his mind hasn't. Now that he doesn't dream of his nakama anymore, he dreams of new nakama.
And he will awaken to find them all gone – new and old – all gone.
None of it was – is – real.
None of it, none of them. NOTHING.
He grips his teacup a bit too tightly, and the handle cracks, breaking off, the cup itself smashing into the green lawn, tea soaking into the grass, shattering into pieces.
Nothing.
Laboon… Yorki…
He has to – needs to – awaken soon. And retrieve his shadow…
The corner of his eye catches sight of the ground, black with what is unmistakably his shadow.
It was back…? That part could also have been dream… Did he lose his shadow, or not?
Which part was real?
"Musician-san, I believe you dropped your cup." the archaeologist elegantly states, gracefully descending the flight of stairs on the left, staring at him.
He stares.
We're not disappearing anytime soon.
We're not disappearing-
"Musician-san?" the archaeologist asks, moving towards him.
-anytime soon.
We're not disappearing-
"Ah, forgive me. I hadn't noticed." he says, standing up before bending down to retrieve the shattered pieces. The archaeologist continues to watch him, eyes glinting with curiosity. Or is it concern?
"Musician-san, are you alright?" the historian questions, eyes fixed onto the skeleton kneeling to pick up each piece of his cup.
-anytime soon.
They will disappear soon.
His wonderful dream-nakama was probably just telling him what he wished to hear.
"Yohohoho~ I'm perfectly fine, Robin-san." he hears himself saying, the archaeologist's stare burning an imaginary hole into his clothes.
Yes, he'll be perfectly fine.
As soon as he wakes up.
Day 4 – 10.30pm
They draw straws again.
It's becoming a routine, drawing straws every night (was it night?). He wonders how his mind came up with the idea of drawing straws. As far as he knows, no pirate crew ever did that.
The fog has returned.
"Brook, Luffy, you two have first watch, then Robin and Franky, then Zoro and Chopper." The navigator says, picking up all the draw straws and shuffling them back in her hand, probably for next time's use.
Will there be a next time? He can't really take much more of this.
"Man, you got first watch again? That's unlucky." The sniper says, peeking under his arm.
Unlucky. That's another word for it.
Or unfortunate.
Or maybe tragic.
"Brook, you have to watch over Luffy, okay?" The navigator says, sighing, "Don't let him jump overboard."
Almost ominous.
Foreboding.
It feels like the calm before the storm.
Day 4 – 11.50pm
The captain had decided to raid the kitchen.
He was hungry, the rubber boy had said.
Not that it was his concern.
Staring into the dark, misty sea, pitch black waves swimming around, swirling around the fog, attacking the base the ship, he squeezes his non-existent eyes shut, before opening them again.
The surroundings didn't change.
He needs to wake up.
But how?
How had he awoken from all his previous dreams?
Maybe, a shock?
Yes, a huge shock should work.
It was what woke him from previous dreams after all.
He leans over the railing, watching the dark waters swimming, resting his bony arms on the surface of the partition, tiny glints of light sparkling on the surface.
Yes. A shock.
He stares.
A shock. That's all.
He climbs over the rails, sitting on its surface, legs swinging out towards the sea, his hand firming hooked onto the barrier between the ship and the sea.
A shock and he would awaken. He would be rid of this worthless dream.
He stares, bending nearer toward the sea.
Just a shock and he would be able to continue trying and trying and trying to cross the Grandline, instead of roaming around in useless dreams.
He has to wake up. For Laboon.
He stares.
Just a shock.
He slowly stands up on the railing.
Just one shock.
He glances below.
One big shock.
He slowly closes his non-existent eyelids, and from the corner of his eye, he swears he spots an elegant eye printed on the wall far from him.
Just one big shock, and he'll be back on his ship, alone.
His eyes shut, and he takes a deep breath.
One shock, just one, and he'll be rid of this pointless dream.
He takes a step forward, not breathing, clutching tightly onto his cane sword.
Just one.
And he disappears over the railing.
"BROOK!"
I'M NOT SORRY! ANGST FTW!
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