Chapter Text
You have always hated funerals. The worst part of it is not the ceremony, or the wake, or when the bodies finally hit the ground—it is after everything, when everyone’s left and offered their condolences, leaving the bereaved alone and hollow. It is when you finally have to process everything properly, since death usually comes so abruptly that will leave people in shock for quite some time. It is when you finally have to accept everything and say, “Right, that happened,” before finding ways to cope and move forward.
Well, some do accept, others don’t. The latter might eventually do, even if it takes more time. Either way, there is something missing; something irreplaceable, perhaps, that’s why it is sometimes hard to let go.
There are also other things: regret, guilt. You’re experiencing both, and they are truly, really, suffocating.
The funeral for the crew was held this morning. Galley-La started their business later than usual for all employees, including yourself, to gather at the bay to bid your last goodbye. It was a short ceremony, consisted of various speeches and prayers you did not care to follow, and ended with people throwing some flowers to the sea, since there were no ashes to be scattered.
It felt empty, emptier than your parents’ funeral, either because there were no bodies or these pent-up feelings you’re having. You feel you don’t deserve the condolences people offered to you, or any words expressing how sorry they were about the incident, and how proud they were of your survival.
Well, you’ve had enough of those; not only they’ve jogged your memory about the accident, they also remind you about your uselessness at that time, to which you despise and regret. But you know these people meant well, and they did their best to offer comfort for a stranger, an outsider who’d brought this news to them, even though you needn’t any of those.
These feelings are just things you need to work on, and learn to ‘accept’, somehow.
“Would you like some more, Miss?” You glance up to find the barkeeper is standing in front of you, offering more drink as your glass has gone empty.
He is a huge man—very bulky and is probably above 2 metres—who would look intimidating without that friendly smile of his. His choice of fashion is quite strange, but in a good way; a yellow polka-dotted shirt and his horn-like hairstyle that is similar to the huge horns on the roof. The whole bar is probably modelled after him—he is, after all, the owner.
He reminds you of Dicky in a way, who redecorated his bar with things that are very… him. That dickhead even removed his old man’s old painting just because he found it ugly. “This is my bar now, I can do whatever I want!”—that’s what he always said whenever his father’s old patrons asked where that painting went, since his father was so often calling it a ‘masterpiece’ and seemingly proud of it.
Ah, of all people, that man is the first person that comes to mind. Not even Stevens, or his family—It’s your ever-annoying ex-boss. It thus makes you wonder how he is doing now, running the bar without his ‘precious Kimi’. He must be fuming once he found out that you’d left—the possibility makes you laugh every time you think about it.
You might need to send a letter to Stevens to ask how everyone’s doing—maybe later, once you’ve settled, and… ready to move forward.
“Ah, yes please.” You smile as you give him your empty glass. “Thank you. It’s really nice—the drink. Just like what I need.”
It reminds you of one of Dicky’s exclusive drinks, but better. Not only because it’s tastier, but also twice as cheap.
Gosh, that dick-man could be such a fraud, sometimes.
“Well, thank you, Miss. You’ve got an old taste for someone so young.” The man chuckles. “You’re new here, yeah? I don’t think I’ve seen you before today.”
“Ah, yes, I just moved here. I arrived two days ago.” You tell him as you taste something bitter trying to escape your gut. Not again.
You manage to swallow it before it’s too late. “From East Blue.”
“East Blue? I see.” He nods as though he understands—understands what, you don’t know—before taking out a bottle from one of the shelves behind him. It’s a different bottle from the drink you had before. A more vintage-looking one, which may indicate a more expensive kind of drink. “This one’s on the house.”
“Oh, no, please.” You insistingly refuse. “Please, no more of this,” you think to yourself. “No more treats, no more—” awards for staying alive. “Not for someone like me.”
“The previous one’s enough for me, really.”
“It’s alright, Miss. A tiny bit of welcome drink from a local wouldn’t hurt so bad, would it?” He says as he pours the dark brown liquid into two glasses. “I’ll drink with you, if that makes you feel better.”
“A-Alright, then, if you insist.” You heave a small sigh as you raise your glass and hold it right in front of his. “Blueno-san… is it? I’m (Y/N), nice to meet you. And… thank you. For this.”
“It’s my pleasure, Miss.”
You clink you glass against his, a friendly gesture you can only give him now, since he’s asked for nothing else—not that Blueno is also hoping to get something in return. It’s just you, who feel like you need to give something, as little as it might be, for all people have done recently is nothing but giving you things you are undeserving. Food, shelter, clothes, and even funds…
And all you’ve been doing is taking from them—but you wouldn’t dare to look at things from that point of view even further. Though you may sometimes find yourself wondering, if things had gone differently—
“Aw, Blueno! How are you doing, bud?”
Ruckus suddenly arrives at the bar. You turn your head towards the entrance and see the batwing door is wide open, revealing a group of… strange individuals, wearing round-looking black armour with a red star in the middle, except for one man who… is even more eccentric.
An exhibitionist is your first impression of him. Though his tight, red swimming trunk is sort of distracting, you wouldn’t judge his choice of fashion—but, in the middle of the rain, really?
Blueno welcomes the group with his surprisingly interesting laugh, “Ehehehe, welcome. I’m good here. How’s your underworld trip going, Franky?”
Franky—the eccentric man—takes a seat next to you, whilst his rag-tag group occupy the whole bar and make themselves comfortable. “It was suuuper tiring. My cola’s running out fast—restock ‘em for me now, will ya?”
You thought you were seeing things, because the man next to you is suddenly holding six bottles, which didn’t come out of nowhere since… he took it from his chest, which has… a door that’s now open???
“What the—”
“You’re still owing me for your last restock, by the way.” Blueno, seemingly unbothered by that man’s strange body, takes the bottles from the man’s hands and places them in the washer so casually as if it’s something he normally does.
“Gahahah! Don’t worry, my friend. I didn’t go on a trip for nothing. Hey, guys!” Franky calls out his chattering group behind him. “Order whatever you like. I’m paying everything!”
“OOOOH, thank you, Franky aniki!”
“Aw, big bro’s the best”
“Ey, Blueno! Bring me a barrel of that thing!”
The whole bar is getting full of more boisterous sounds and laughter, which make Blueno’s already-decent business livelier. It is once again reminding you of home, especially during those special events when youngsters came for drinks instead of old men, minus Dicky’s bossy demands which sometimes prevented you from enjoying the liveliness at that moment.
And the noise somehow soothes you a little. Because, in the middle of this depressing weather in a very foreign place full of strangers, you don’t feel completely alone. Even if it’s just for a while.
Going out today was a good idea, after all.
“And, aw! Who’s this lovely new face here? Drinking alone in the middle of a suuper day like today, eh, nee-chan?”
‘Super’ isn’t a word you’d use to describe your day. But hey, this guy seems to be having a great day—good for him, right?
“Well, yeah.” You awkwardly chuckle as you raise your glass. “It’s (Y/N). I just moved here all the way from East Blue. Nice to meet you, Mr. Robot.”
“Cyborg is what I’d rather call myself.” He winks as he raises his cola bottle Blueno gave him earlier. “It’s Franky. What brings you here, (Y/N)-chan? Not many people come to Water 7 to move in—it’s hella crowded here!”
“Yeah, I can see that.” You agree. You did take a decent look at the town as you were walking around to find taverns or bars alike after the funeral. The buildings are so stacked up and standing very close to one another. Iceburg did briefly tell you last night about how this city is on the verge of drowning, and finding new buildings built on top of old ones are nothing surprising, considering everyone is eager to keep their premises above the sea levels.
“I came here to join Galley-La as a shipwright.”
“Which… has always been a dream of mine”—those words sit heavily at the tip of your tongue.
It’s true that being in Water 7 has always been a dream both of you and your dad share. And it’s also true that you are finally in the said dream city, safe and sound, with the gate of Galley-La standing tall right in front of you. All you need to do now is taking your first step to pursue your dream, expanding your horizon by learning lots of exciting new things the company and the strange city have to offer.
But, for some reason, the more time you spend in this dream land, the more weight you feel on your shoulders. And you’re not so sure of the sole reason of why everything feels so heavy.
Maybe you’ve known all along, but you chose to not think about it. Consciously, at least.
“Ah, a cig would be nice now.”
“Oh, a shipwright, eh?” Franky raises his brow in interest. “Say, nee-chan, are you maybe that new East Blue girl who came here with Aokiji the other day?”
You give the man a surprised look. “Yeah. Uh, how… do you know?”
“Well, news travel fast, (Y/N)-chan, especially when you don’t often see an admiral wandering around here.”
He does have a point. You can only nod at that.
“And I couldn’t call myself a Boss if I didn’t know the ins-and-outs at my own turf! Phew, the panic rush I had when I heard that Aokiji was in Water 7! Thought I was in trouble for a sec! Gahahha!” Franky guffaws, which invites a small chuckle coming from your lips.
“A troublemaker, aren’t you, Franky-san?” You say jokingly.
“The most famous one in Water 7!” He beams as he chugs his remaining cola.
For a moment, you thought you saw him looking mournful as he puts down his empty bottle, but he quickly regains his semi-playful grin, though slightly more serious this time. And his voice now, which sounds softer than before, betrays his supposed composed look he’s trying to show, “But yeah… Old Yasu and his lots, eh? They were good people. Such a shame, really.”
“You… know—knew them well?” You ask him carefully. “Yasu-san’s East Blue crew?”
“Hm? The whole crew? Well, I can’t say that I did, since I don’t work at Galley-La.” Franky says as he calls Blueno to give him more cola. “But old man Yasu… well, he and I go all the way back.”
“I see.” Another loved one, it seems.
Not again.
You don’t know if it’s the drink or your head, but your mind is now spinning with unwanted thoughts you’ve been trying to forget in the past few days.
“Franky-san, I-I’m…” You try to say something with your shaky breath. Guilt once again feels so overwhelming, and their voices—Tatsu, Miss Ocha, Abati, Yasu, everyone—
“It’s gonna be okay, rookie-chan.”
“If anyone has to survive this, it is you. You need to live.”
“Take care, (Y/N)-san. Thank you.”
“I-I’m very sorry, Franky-san. I… I…”
“Sorry… for what, (Y/N)-chan?” Franky looks at you, seemingly confused and concerned—well, of course he is confused. Both of you were having a casual conversation earlier, so it’s normal for the man to feel weirded out by the way your demeanour has changed, and the way you are shaking as though you’re reliving the fear of that night, which no one seems to know—or understand; the smoke, the clashes of blades, the creaking wooden floors and the crashes of waves against the ship…
You don’t dare to look at him, not when you know you’ve taken away his—
“I wonder if things… could be different.” You hold your glass tightly. “Like, if I only did something. Anything meaningful, you know?”
“What do you mean?”
“That night… I… let them die.”
Words finally escape your lips, though shakily.
“I wish… I was stronger. If I hadn’t been so weak, I would’ve… fought with them.” No. You shake your head and let out a hollow laugh. “Who am I kidding here?”
“Not that it would change anything. They’d still die… alongside me. And I am too scared to die, let alone fight.”
And maybe you’re talking too much. This is not something you’re supposed to talk to strangers, moreover someone you just met for the first time. You don’t know if this man—Franky is trustworthy enough, or if he wants to talk about this kind of thing at all?
Who even wants to talk about this anyway? A conversation about death, regrets and all sorts, talked in between casual drinks and banter at noon, on a normal or even festive day for some people like Franky and his ragtag groups for example—ah, you’ve ruined the atmosphere completely, haven’t you?
Oh, hell, but what else you’re supposed to do? You know no one, hence you don’t have anyone to talk to. You wish Stevens and his family were here, but East Blue feels so far away, and you don’t have any means to contact him for now. No Den Den Mushi—you don’t even know his number of whatever—and no letters—since they will take forever to arrive.
But what’s done is done; you’ve said almost everything anyway. Good thing that you’re drinking—even though you aren’t drunk yet, you now have an excuse for saying all this mess.
“I wonder why Yasu-san decided to save me that night… heh. But even if I die,” You chuckle then. “I think it’s better than being alive when—"
“(Y/N)-chan.” Franky calls your name, sternly, as he cuts off the words you were about to say. His tone brings you back to present time, and it somehow gives you chills, because, well, he sounds… rather angry?
“Y-Yeah?” You stutter, nervously lifting your head, but still avoiding meeting his gaze.
You wait for him to continue, but Franky is still, no longer looking at you. His shades are off now, placed next to his glass whilst his palm is on his face, rubbing both of his eyes rather roughly.
The whole gesture looks as though he is… disappointed? At you? But why—you ask yourself. He doesn’t know you, and you don’t know him. Why would he bother?
“About what you were gonna say earlier…” The man finally opens his mouth. He turns his gaze at you once again, and his words that come afterwards make you even more puzzled than you already are. “Wouldn’t it make Yasu sad if he ever heard of it?”
“Sad?” You wonder. “How could he be sad? Yasu is—”
“You know what? Forget it. I… can’t speak for the dead. But still, that’s not my main point.” The tension surrounding him suddenly dissipates as he places his big hand on your shoulder and… smiles.
His voice even softens, as if he never looked and sounded as tensed as he was earlier. “(Y/N)-chan, you… don’t have to be all strong and mighty, y’know? You’re not a fighter and that’s totally fine, really. Being a shipwright has always been your dream, right?”
“My dream… How did he…”
And as if he could read your mind, Franky continues, “I mean, it’s kinda obvious, no? I said it earlier; no one really moves here—those who come and stay… either have some unfinished business here or, well, are living their dreams, just like those lots at Galley-La.”
There’s that sad expression again, but as quickly as his mask slipping, he regains his goofy grin once again. “Hell, I’m not even from here! It’s all thanks to my shitty excuse of parents who threw me away!”
He then lets his hand go, before chugging his remaining cola and exhales.
“Yasu was a lot like you, y’know? He came here alone when he was young to build ships. It was a looong time ago, even before I was born, and when Water 7 wasn’t as prosperous as today—well, even though I kinda implied that this city is a wreck, the current Water 7 is actually not that bad compared to however it was back then,” he chuckles. “The old man then met Tom here—my master—became close friends and opened their lil’ workshop which that idiot Iceburg and I later joined. That’s how I know him.”
You see Franky staring at the ceiling, still smiling, but now it has some bittersweet feeling to it. It is the smile you seem to also have whenever you’re talking about the happy times you spent with your dad—at least that’s what Stevens always says.
You instinctively wonder if Franky had lost something too before today, but this isn’t the right time to ask such thing.
“You… are close to Iceburg-san as well?” You awkwardly ask then, not out of curiosity, but solely because you realised that you haven’t said a word to him. You just don’t know what to say, or how to react to the sudden… wake-up call.
“Eh? Uh… Did I say that? I guess… sort of? Huh, just forget what I said—not everything, though! What I’m trying to say is, old man Yasu might see himself in you. That’s why he chose to bring you here, whatever it took. But seeing you now… well, knowing how Yasu was, he would be unhappy. He hates it when youngins wasting their lives away,” Franky shrugs and shakes his head. “Well, I’m also the same, to be honest. But I don’t have the right to say it since I’ve also been kinda wasting my potentials, ahaha!”
Franky laughs for a while, and you can only sit there in silence, smiling awkwardly.
But he then quickly changes the topic before you can say something, “So, yeah, (Y/N)-chan. You’ve been given a second chance in life—it’s kinda rare, you know? And you’re still green—there’s lots of things to learn here; don’t waste the opportunities that are presented right in front of you. You’ve always wanted this, right?”
He… is right. As much as it stings, you’re admitting that the man before you is right.
“Ah, I always need someone to give me ‘this’ kinda talk, huh?”
“Yes… very much.” You slightly nod. “Gosh, I’m such a fool.”
“Hah, this is kinda embarrassing.” You laugh, trying to uplift the atmosphere between the two of you since it’s been kind of awkward and a bit glum—or it’s more like, you want to end the conversation quickly as you feel bad for making him involved in your… stuff when he really doesn’t need to. But you are very grateful all the same.
“What is?”
“Well, me. I’ve been spouting a lot of nonsense, haven’t I? I just feel like… such a fool.” You shake your head as you take a sip. “When some people are wishing to get more chances in life… I’m throwing those chances away as if they were nothing.”
“Hey, your scars are real, alright?” Franky nudges your shoulder gently. “It’s okay to feel that way. You’re still mourning and… it must’ve been tough out there—alone, in the ocean. But hey, you made it here! You’re strong in that way.”
You glance at him and smile thinly. “I… don’t know about that, Franky-san. I was… just lucky, I guess. If Aokiji hadn’t come, I’d—” No. Don’t think about it. “And I still have these… uh, I don’t know? These feelings, like overwhelming guilt. Undeserving. I don’t know if… I could live my dream knowing someone—people had to sacrifice their lives for me…”
“Hm, I see. It’s… hard to live if you see things that way. I get it.” Franky sighs. “(Y/N)-chan, I know this sounds too simple but try… forgiving yourself. Do it slowly, y’know? Like a baby trying to walk. It’s gonna be tough, but… you’re a strong gal. I think you can do it.”
“I hope so, but… how?”
Franky pauses, seemingly hesitant in his choice of words. But he later says it anyway, in the vaguest way possible. “I’m sorry. If I already knew how… I would’ve left this island already.”
“It’s some unfinished business, then.” You think to yourself, not wanting to pry further.
“I don’t know if this is gonna help, or make you feel better—I just wanna let you know that it’s not your fault that they died, (Y/N)-chan.”
“I… know.” Maybe. “Thank you, Franky-san. I mean it.”
“Oi, oi, you two!” You startle as you suddenly feel a big hand on your shoulder, pulling you and Franky closer to the huge man who who’s already standing behind the two of you. He reeks of alcohol and as you turn your head to take a closer look at him, you notice that his face is so flushed that you can easily tell that he is getting a bit too drunk for his own good.
“Stop lookin’ all gloomy and sad! Join the party, will ya??”
“Aw! You’re drunk already, Zambai? We’ve only been here less than an hour!” Franky beams as he wraps his arm around the man’s shoulder. “I’m not gonna carry you home if you pass out now!”
“Aw, don’t be like that, aniki! I’m having a blast now!! Come on, join me dancin’—you too, nee-chan!”
You then hear more of Franky’s men shouting from behind, begging the two of you to join the party you don’t even know they’ve started. One of them turns the jukebox’s volume up, blasting some lively jazzy music which makes everyone starts cheering and dancing wildly.
“I think I know this song.” You mumble as you try recalling the familiar melody, which seems sort of blurry in your mind, but you know that you’ve heard or sung to it at least once. “I used to sing a lot at the bar back home. I think one time someone requested this song… and since I didn’t know a thing about it, I just made up the lyrics on the spot.”
“A bar girl, aren’t ya? Even more reason for you to join the party.” Franky then stands up, holds out his hand and cheekily winks as he says, “Would you like to have this dance, milady? I could show you how to properly party like Franky Family.”
You can’t help but laugh. You take his hand and stand up, leaving your almost-empty glass of sad liquor on the table. “I’d be very honoured, Sir Franky.”
Zambai and Franky immediately take you to the crowd, or more precisely, to the table in the middle of the crowd, which has become a spot for anyone in the room to show off their drunken moves. You aren’t sure what to do at first, being put under the spotlight unplanned and all. You can only awkwardly move and giggle shyly—as confident as a performer that you were, this odd bunch is a different crowd, the one you are not yet used to.
But after seeing both Franky and Zambai unashamedly showing their rather vulgar and embarrassing dance moves, your nerves are slowly relaxing by the second. Your body unconsciously moves following the rhythm, and it doesn’t take you long to sing your heart out.
The bar gets livelier as everyone gets more drunk and indulges in the hype of the moment. The crowd is so loud that the people outside curiously peek to check what the fuss is all about, before they eventually join the party—rather unwillingly, because Franky and his men drag them in. Even Blueno, who was just standing idly by the counter, drying some glasses and cutleries amidst the noise, has no choice but to ‘get involved’, after repeatedly persuaded by Franky saying that the barkeep needs to take a day off and have fun, or something along those lines.
Seeing everyone enjoying this festivity, and after all the talk you had with the exhibitionist cyborg, some weights seem to have lifted off your shoulders—not entirely, though, but you’d be lying if you didn’t admit that you find it hard to hide away your smile. This is starting to feel like home, and you are no longer a spectator who’s only watching all the fun from afar or an alien who doesn’t belong, but a resident of Water 7, a dreamer who calls this magical city their ‘home’.