SKULL JOKE

The first time was the hardest; he'd struggling with the reality that he could see, even though his eyeballs had already shriveled away.

Back when he was alive, he hadn't contemplated much about what things would be like, post-mortem. He'd been too busy trying to keep the music going, whatever the circumstances.

Now, there was nothing but time on his hands, and he eventually became aware of certain things.

Like how there were empty holes and sharp corners and things missing and things that shouldn't be visible and the whole of him was unnatural and wrong and alone and disgusting-

So he straightened up and yelled "SKULL JOKE" as loud as he could.

The echo bounced through the lonely, creaking shipwrecks nearby, into the heavy mists, and carried on for miles.

He spun around to address the pile of neatly stacked skeletons that was his crew. He'd like to think they were wearing expressions of utter bafflement.

"It's funny, wouldn't you agree? I can see, even though I don't have eyeballs." He pointed at his empty sockets for good measure. He could almost hear the approval rattling from those empty skulls. Applauding his attempt at morbid humor.

SKULL JOKE

It became easier with each repetition of the joke, with each body part that he conceded to be missing. Soon, it became a catchphrase of sorts.

Perhaps he thought that if he could laugh at his current circumstances long enough, then he would stop wanting to squirm out of his own skeleton. Just laugh it away, and pretend for a moment that his bouncing echoes were coming from someone else. That he wasn't the only one laughing.

He could hear anything, if he tried hard enough.

SKULL JOKE

He knew that securing his new captain's laughter wasn't much of an achievement, since the boy would laugh at anything:

Strange-looking fish.

Zoro-san not finding the bathroom again.

Usopp-san's jokes.

A stranger's jokes.

A cloud shaped like meat.

A monster shaped like an island.

And the list went on indefinitely; his captain simply had a low threshold for humor.

So he supposed he should feel a bit less, what was the word…Smug? Satisfied? He should probably consider it less of an achievement to make Luffy-san laugh with skull jokes, since he was the only one to consistently do so.

Yet there was something about a being made of pure fun and laughter, who would (hopefully) never act his age. And that person found delight in his old jokes. So he couldn't help but puff out his bony chest a little farther every time he heard that 'shishishi'. Because no one could take that pride away from him.

SKULL JOKE

There were certain behaviors that became predictable over time.

Robin-san made morbid observations (and he was the dead one here, yohohoho!)

Usopp-san had a chronic disease that changed names at every island.

He supposed that the only time his nakama's behaviors would change is if they were pushed past their limits, and their normal personalities were cast aside in desperation.

He hadn't fully appreciated it at the time, being a new member and all, but Thriller Bark was something he never wanted to go through again. So now he clung to certain things. Like Zoro-san and Sanji-san never speaking to each other civilly, let alone keeping each other's secrets.

He wonders if it would be egotistical to assume that anyone else clung to his skull jokes.

("OVER MY DEAD BODY! Ah, but I'm already-" A hand interrupts, and a bubble pops above the mangroves.)

SKULL JOKE

He knew it wasn't funny. He knew it was beyond predictable if even Chopper, their youngest, could beat him to the punchline.

He didn't even know why he said it anymore. Whether it was just from habit, or there was still some residual unease about himself that he was trying to dispel.

Upon their first meeting, the fear and screaming had hurt, but in a predictable fashion. And now that fear was no longer a conditioned response within his crew (and he loved to echo that phrase in his head, his crew), he impulsively kept on with the skull jokes

He wondered if he should tell them that it would be easy for him to stop. All they needed was to say so. To look at his body the same way when they'd first met. To reject him. He feared isolation enough that he would do anything to avoid their disapproval.

So it was strangely reassuring when they brushed off his skull jokes. Like gently saying that his eccentricities were nothing to warrant fear or closer scrutiny.

And he wondered if he was ever going to dispose of his one-liner. Especially since the eye rolls were starting to be accompanied by reluctant grins, and the fearful step back had turned into an observant attempt at predicting Brook's next line.

So now, there was a whole new kind of worry that overtook him.

Because the more precious something was, the more it hurt once it was gone.

SKULL JOKE

It was when his captain was napping against his bony thighs as he fiddled out a tune, that he made a remark.

"If I was ever told to stop with the skull jokes, I would."

Luffy-san yawned before rolling onto his side. "That's why we don't."

He hoped that no one had noticed him crying. He held his breath until Luffy-san started snoring and loudly sniffed at his imaginary snot when lunch was called. He played off the large puddle on the back of his captain's shirt as Luffy's own sweat, because skeletons certainly couldn't. His captain jumped up with a loud and cheerful "SKULL JOKE", even though there hadn't exactly been one, but he too had jumped up with an echo of "SKULL JOKE" because, joke or not, it wouldn't have changed a thing.