Koby dreams.
Oh yes, and he dreams a lot.
There had been a time when he did not dream; because there wasn't a point to dream when his life had been all but doused with buckets of mop water and misery. It had seemed to appease Alvida and her goons, though. After all, a dreamless cabin boy made a good cabin boy. But, a guy in a barrel and a little bit of courage (or he supposed, a LOT in his case) was all it took for him to stand up for himself and change that.
And now, there was never a day he caught himself NOT dreaming. Even with hands slick with cleansing chemicals, or with calloused fingers and sweaty palms full of blisters from swinging wooden bokken day in and day out, or a quickly delivered salute to those higher than he; he dreamed. He was a boy who felt that with a small effort, he too could make a difference in the world. And that alone made every night he spent plucking splinters from his palms, and each and every one of his sore, aching muscles so much more worth enduring.
(The world is so vast, yet so dangerous. He knew; right when he had been whisked away from that little Marine base in Shells Town by 'Vice Admiral Garp' himself. But it wasn't the large Sea Kings that inhabited the Calm Belt and Grand Line, nor the many large islands they came across, nor the vastness that was Navy Headquarters that made him realize. No. It was the people within; his colleagues especially. He could depict the gray colors that had once hid itself inside the black and white painting that made up this world. Marines were not painted in a glorious white, and pirates were not as black as one might originally think. Yet despite this, he dreams still. If not for himself, then for those who need it.)
But there was this certain dream of his, and oh, how silly it is. Preposterous, as many would call it. But Koby - even when hunched over his desk and scribbling away at mounds of paperwork, or holding the newest wanted poster of the man who had fanned the dying coals of his dreams back to life - had always found himself thinking back to golden woven straw, and a smile that stretched wider than anyone else's. To eyes that glowed with hopes and dreams like that of stars in an ebony night sky, and to a voice that would declare a dream so impossibly bizarre that you just might believe he could achieve it. And like a flower, he couldn't help but grow upwards; reaching, reaching, and reaching still to the man who seemed to embody that of the very sun.
Helmeppo speaks to him one day about this silly little dream; and Koby indulges. He hums as he reapplies ink to his feathered pen, scribbles down signatures in documents, and reads up on reports; but he listens.
"You're insane, you know that? Just like him."
And well, Koby supposed he was right. What person would continue to reach for something that only continued to evade their grasp? Any normal man would have given up by now. But, that's the thing... isn't it? He wasn't LIKE any normal man. He's a dreamer, a believer. And so Koby stops his endless mantra of scribbling, and he cranes his neck to look at Helmeppo with a smile that couldn't quite match the one he endlessly fantasizes about.
"I know."
Helmeppo just looks at him; truly. He shakes his head, and lets out an irritated sigh.
"Chasing after a man like that.. Its suicidal. You'll die before you even get the chance."
-
Oh. And how right Helmeppo had been.
-
It's a petal, just a single one. It rests on his palm as he examines it. It's soft and silky, and it would have been so innocent if it wasn't for the fact that it came from his throat.
The wind blows, and the ship he stands on sways in rhythm with the waves. (He's on a mission; having been sent off by 'Vice Admiral' Garp himself with nothing more than boisterous laughter and a mouth full of rice crackers. It was just some rookie pirates terrorizing a village on an island nearby, so it wasn't anything he couldn't handle.)
Koby clutches the petal in his grasp; yellow and bright like the man he dreams about. He wonders - just this once - that maybe he has dreamt too much. Maybe it was life trying to taunt him, because the one he loves was so far out of his reach. He lets the petal go, and watches as the wind carries it outwards from the ship, and into the vast sea and beyond.
But, even so. He'll persevere. If this is the cost of loving a man too far out of his reach: he'll accept it. He'll choke on beautiful yellow petals coated in his own phlegm and blood, and watch as they transform from a single bud to a full bouquet. He'll grow ill for the dreams he had set himself out for; reaching still for the sun and presenting him the flowers that grew around his heart. Because he signed up for this; with pretty calligraphy and handwriting on ancient parchment paper that had been offered out to him by the hands of the devil himself.
(It's funny, really. How this all started. It wasn't a nudge, or a starting push. No. Koby had been ensnared by rubberized arms and then ROCKETED towards the white and blue flags that symbolized the Navy. But, he honestly didn't prefer it any other way. Because it was exhilarating; the feeling of adrenaline running through his veins as he all but soared through the ranks of the Marines. And now he can get a grasp on why Luffy was so adamant on thrusting himself and others into adventures that could kill them.)
Monkey D. Luffy did not love Koby. It was something the pink-haired man had come to understand. The pirate was filled to the brim with a dream he was determined to catch, as well as the dreams of those he calls his nakama. He was surrounded by so many colors and figures, and that had left no room for the love Koby had all but gathered for him. Yet that didn't stop him, even as he only continued to spit out globs of yellow and red from his lungs, and choke out stems of green and brown... He dreams, foolishly still.
-
Helmeppo was the first to notice. He shook his head and cursed the world. Cursed himself for the jinx he placed upon his friend. And next; it was Garp. He had expected to be graced with a mighty pound over the head, but instead he had been met with a sigh. It was as if this hadn't been the man's first rodeo.
He had been offered a solution. A surgery to remove the disease, but at a cost that he loses the love he felt for that he dreams about. But; he simply refused. If he were to die for something he had set himself out for, then so be it. And a certain man had taught him that well. He wasn't a coward; no. He had proved himself time and time again that he could stand up on shaky legs against what could be seen as impossible.
(A young boy, screaming his heart and dreams out to a pirate who had stolen it all. A traumatized marine who threw himself carelessly in front of a man and screamed about fighting a war that they had already won.)
His ambitions were wings built from feathers and wax; beautifully crafted into large appendages that were sure to make him fly. But like Icarus, he had been careless. In his journey to reach the Sun; he didn't think of the consequences. And so, the wax had dried. He had plummeted. Down into the sea, but the waves were replaced with buckets full of flowers and the sea salt and water he choked on was replaced with iron and blood. He supposed he'll never make it. He'll never interact with the Sun like those beautiful shades and colors of nakama he keeps by his side.
But still, he dreams.