Thirty years of isolation had brought Brook to the edge of despair. But in the dead silence of the Florian Triangle, something stirred—a spark that would reignite his soul.
Through the dense fog, a soft, melodic humming echoed off the shattered walls and tattered sails of what could only be described as a ghost ship.
"Yohohoho! I'm so hungry, but I don't even have a stomach!" Laughter burst forth from an unlikely source—a skeleton with a large afro, his voice carrying a strange mix of mirth and melancholy.
Brook had been trapped in the Florian Triangle for 30 years, unable to escape the oppressive darkness that surrounded him. He muttered to himself as he leaned against the splintered mast, his hollow eyes reflecting the endless gloom.
"I know what I can do," he said, forcing a weak smile. Straightening up, he struck a ridiculous pose.
"Forty-five degrees skeleton!"
The act brought no relief. Brook's head hit the mast as he crumpled to the floor. He stared up at the fog-covered sky, his voice barely more than a whisper.
"I can't do it anymore."
The only thing that had kept him alive all these years was a promise—to see his dear friend again. But would Laboon even remember him? The thought clawed at his fragile sanity. Over the years, Brook had done his best to make light of the darkness, but even his humor couldn't hold back the creeping despair. He had learned to tap dance, mastered every instrument on the ship, and even talked to himself for company. But now, there was nothing left. His voice cracked as he drifted into a restless sleep.
"Laboon... I'm sorry."
In the stillness, a strange glow appeared—a blue flame, drifting through the air like a will-o'-the-wisp. Its light bathed the wrecked ship in an unearthly glow, casting long shadows that seemed to writhe like living things.
Brook stirred, his hollow sockets catching the flicker of light. He scrambled to his feet, panic rising in his chest.
"What is that? Ahhh! A ghost!"
The flame moved closer, and Brook bolted, his bony legs carrying him as fast as they could. He darted around debris, shouting as he fled.
"Don't eat me! I'm all bones! Yohohoho!"
His laugh echoed in the mist, but the flame showed no mercy. It zipped toward him with unnatural speed, weaving through the wreckage. Brook skidded to a stop, his laugh trailing off as he realized it was too late.
"W-wait—"
The flame plunged into his chest, and Brook's vision exploded with light. His skeletal frame trembled as an icy heat coursed through him. For a moment, everything went silent—then came the whisper of a voice, low and unfamiliar.
"Finally... a body."