I Sell Gacha Jars in One Piece

Robin said nothing. The silence itself communicated everything.

"Yohohohoho! A joke, Miss Robin, purely a joke! Please don't be angry!"

Brook backpedaled on his statement immediately. He was incorrigible, but not genuinely threatening. Decades of solitude had left him with a few conversational tics that were difficult to suppress, and that one had become reflexive enough that it sometimes escaped before he could catch it.

Amon stepped in before the atmosphere curdled further. "Brook, you were saying something about the injuries. How did they happen?"

Brook's demeanor settled, and he explained. His shadow had been stolen by Gecko Moria and installed into the corpse of the legendary swordsman Ryuma. Ever since, Brook had been doing the only thing he could think of, fighting Ryuma again and again, trying to reclaim what was his. It hadn't worked yet, and he wasn't sure it would.

Amon already knew the broad shape of it from the source material, but he let Brook tell it in his own words. Robin and Lily had no such prior knowledge, and their reactions tracked accordingly. Lily, upon hearing the full explanation of how Thriller Bark functioned, went rigid and resumed trembling. Robin, by contrast, looked fascinated in the way she always did when something strange and interesting crossed her path.

"So you're saying every ship we passed getting here," Robin said, "all of that wreckage was caused by Thriller Bark?"

"Every bit of it, Miss Robin." Brook folded his hands solemnly. "Gecko Moria is one of the Seven Warlords of the Sea. The World Government leaves him alone, and so this triangle has become exactly what it looks like. A graveyard. With a very enthusiastic curator."

Amon nodded. Same situation as Crocodile, structurally. Warlord status bought an extraordinary amount of latitude.

"That explains Ryuma," he said.

It made sense now that he was seeing it in person. Brook had learned from Amon that Laboon was still waiting at Twin Cape. That knowledge had to have pushed him harder than ever toward recovering his shadow, which explained the state he was in.

Brook's mood shifted. "Speaking of which. Amon, do you still have that device you used to connect me with Laboon last time? I'd like to speak with him again. I need to tell him to stop waiting for me. At this rate, I don't know when, or whether, I'll be able to return."

He said it quietly, without drama, which made it land harder than if he'd made a performance of it.

"I don't have it anymore," Amon said. "That connection worked because of Crocus specifically. His setup, his Den Den Mushi network. I can't replicate it on my own."

Brook's expression, difficult to read at the best of times given the absence of most standard facial features, managed to communicate something in the neighborhood of resignation.

"However," Amon continued, "getting you something similar isn't impossible. That device Crocus had came out of one of my jars. If you want to try your luck, you might land something that does the same job. You might land something else entirely. That's how jars work."

He let the implication sit there and watched Brook process it.

Brook turned his gaze toward the collection of jars, then back to Amon. "You're certain something useful could come out of one of those?"

"I can't promise the specific item. But I can promise nothing in there will disappoint you. Hundred thousand Berries a jar."

Brook wavered for only a moment. Then he opened his skull.

Lily made a noise that was somewhere between a gasp and a whimper, and fastened both hands into Robin's sleeve. Robin watched with undisguised curiosity. She had encountered many unusual things in her travels, but a skeleton reaching inside his own head to retrieve currency was genuinely new.

After a moment of rummaging, Brook produced a fistful of gold coins and jewelry, slightly tarnished from long storage.

"I've had these for years. Didn't think I'd have any use for them here." He counted out what was needed and handed it over with a hint of relief, as though the act of spending money had reminded him that transactions were a thing that happened between living people. "There. Now, which one do I pick?"

"Browse at your own pace."

Brook moved toward the jars with the careful interest of someone inspecting antiques. Lily immediately retreated behind Amon, putting his frame between herself and the approaching skeleton with focused determination.

Brook noticed her and tilted his head fondly. "What a precious little one. Might I ask if I could see your—"

"Brook." Amon's voice was mild but firm. "The jars."

"Yohohohoho! Forgive me, it simply comes out on its own. A terrible habit."

He turned back to the selection and began making his way through it methodically, occasionally tapping one with a bony knuckle as though testing for resonance. After a full circuit, he stopped in front of a jar that was a deep, pure black, and stood with it for a moment.

Something about it felt right to him.

"This one," he said, picking it up. "Amon, how do I open it?"

"Black ones just need a good knock. Doesn't take much."

"Understood."

Brook flipped his cane and gave the jar a crisp tap with the handle. The crack it made was clean, and from inside, a warm golden light spilled out across the deck planks.

When the light faded, three items lay where it had been.

Brook stared at them, baffled. "What are these?"

The system had already run its scan the moment the jar broke open, and the attributes of all three items were laid out in Amon's vision before Brook finished asking the question.

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