When Luffy left, it was with resignation. Everyone knew, and had known for years, that the rubber boy with the straw hat was destined for the sea. And with a family like his, who were they to stop him? If a few tears were shed, no one said anything. Because Luffy most definitely was an idiot, but he was their idiot, and they would miss him dearly.

When Zoro left, it was with surprise. No one expected the swordsman to stay in the dojo forever, but he had never made any mention of leaving right then and there. While no one was particularly close to him, he commanded such a respect that with him gone they all felt a little lost.

"I bet he got lost," one of his sparring partners drawled. There were a few snickers, and in a few days they forgot about it. No one was worried, because they knew Zoro could take care of himself

And when his face began to enter the papers, they all rolled their eyes, because they knew it was true.

When Nami left, it was with relief. The night after she robbed the entire town blind there was a lot of crying, and drinking, and laughing. Stories about a hell raising child, who had turned into a beautiful hell raising adult were swapped as people mourned their missing wallets. As the night progressed the crowd dwindled until only a few were left; together they took a walk that happened to cross paths with a certain grave. There they stayed until the sun rose on the first day of their new lives, sitting in respectful silence.

When Usopp left, it was with skepticism. When told of the liar's departure many refused to accept it. He was too weak, too young, and too vulnerable to actually be gone. But when morning came and the familiar voice calling for pirates was curiously absent they were forced to open their eyes. While rumors spread like wildfire, those that knew him well laughed and shared significant looks with one another.

And after a certain picture of a masked pirate eventually made its way to the East Blue, those looks turned into ones of wonder. Maybe his tall tales weren't so unbelievable after all.

When Sanji left if, it was with reluctance. While the other cooks were pushing for him to leave, he was clinging to stay. And while there was a great celebration when he (finally) set sail, they all knew that things would never be quite the same. Sure, less of the budget would have to be set aside for property damage; and yes, they would have fewer upset husbands, but a void still remained.

The day after the foul mouthed cook left was the smoothest, most stress free day in the restaurant's history. But before they went to sleep for the night every single one of them missed the smell of that one last cigarette that had been part of their routine for years.

When Vivi left, it was with silence. The princess told only her closest loved ones of her plans, and she had gone with no fanfare. During her absence worry lines deepened and hairs turned grey. Days turned to weeks, and weeks to months without hearing from their beloved princess. But they trusted her and those she traveled with, and they eagerly waited for a time of peace when they could be reunited safely.

And while they hid their feelings from a public that needed to see strength, behind closed doors bitter tears flowed unrestrained.

When Chopper left, it was with apprehension. No one knew if the doctor, in his youth, was ready to set sail in a very dangerous world. It was his maturity, not his skill, that they doubted. However, the boy was following his dreams on a ship full of dreamers, and deep down they figured he'd be alright. They followed his story closely, cheering for his success, chuckling at his misfortune, and mourning with his failures.

Secretly they all marveled at his transformation, both as a doctor and as a man.

When Robin left, it was with desperation. In the chaos they tried to ensure her survival, forfeiting their lives so that she might have hers. They had trusted her (a child) with their future, and they all feared the worst. But there were no options, and she had to go on. They were confident in her genius and certain of her ability, but as they lay dying all they could do was pray that their decisions did not destroy her.

When Franky left, it was with acceptance. They all knew that the fateful battle against the Government had changed his life forever. Water 7 could no longer confine him, his dream awaited him, and while they loved him it was time to say goodbye.

After they wiped their eyes (to clear the dust. He most certainly wasn't worth crying over) they sat exhausted. Several wondered how life would be without his boisterous enthusiasm, but for the most part they were just curious to see how far his boat could really go.

When Brook left, it was with liberty. The ghostly chains that fastened his bony arms to the drifting ship were broken, freeing the musician and his dead crew from the weight that held them. After decades of lonely emptiness, a song (that song) was able to flow, unhampered or restrained by past tragedy.

Across the world a friend, long ago left behind, patiently waited for that glorious reunion that had long ago been promised. Sorrow and solitude were abandoned, because although he had left, they knew he would return.