Negative Harmony - One Piece TG (Patreon)

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Third Place on the MHA/ONE PIECE TMF contest!
Story by TheEverything

Brook let out a deep and contented sigh, which was rather a feat seeing as he didn't have any lungs. The life of an up-and-coming rockstar was a stressful one, so he made sure to take time to appreciate moments like these. A few hours to himself in a private room of the most exclusive hot springs resort on an island famous for them.

One with the women's bath only a few flimsy walls away and well-occluded by steam.

It was as though the place had been made for him.

He took a moment to center himself. Focusing on his core, he concentrated his will.

"Bone bone bone," he chanted, slowly gaining speed as the energy built. "Bone bone bonebonebonebonebonebonebone... BOOM!"

With a pop of ethereal green mist, his spirit escaped his body. Pausing to regain his bearings, he inspected his lifeless form.

"Good, good. It worked just like last time. What a stupendous skill! Now then," he raced through the wall, "Lovely ladies, here I come!"

He pushed through walls like they were made of rice paper, hugging the rafters to stay out of sight. A barely visible trail tethered him back to his true body.

He could hear it up ahead. The giggling. The splashing. The squealing. All that remained between him and his nirvana was a final linen closet. He put on a burst of speed as he made a final push through and-

BONK!

"OW!"

"OUCH!"

Brook shook his head to clear the circling seagulls and tried to focus on what he'd run into.

The figure—rather, the young woman—seemed to be doing the same. She had an oddly familiar face with long pink hair and a uniquely frilly yet gothic swimsuit.

She was also floating in the air, same as he was, with half her body stuck through the wall. It didn't take much for him to place her.

"Negative girl?" he asked.

"Skeleton man?" She replied, equally surprised.

A moment passed.

"What are you doing here!?" they demanded in perfect accusatory unison.

"Well I'm most certainly not about to go peeping in the women's bath," Brook lied.

"A-And I'm not planning on l-looking in the men's or anything..." Perona's face tinted red as she replied.

There was a beat of silence.

Then the pair exploded.

"YOU PERV!" Perona cried, "I thought Absalom was a creep with his invisibility, but you're just as bad!"

"Perv yourself!" Brook shot back. "Like anyone would want you to sneak in and take advantage of my poor defenseless body." He paused. "Unless..."

"Eww, no! Gross! Sorry bone-bag but I'm looking for a man with a bit more meat on his bones."

"Ha! So you admit it!" He manifested enough spirit to point a judgmental finger. "You were peeping!"

Caught flat-footed, the ghost girl fell back into a fuming pout, puffing out her cheeks like a child.

"You know what?" she declared, "I don't have to take this! This is my vacation and I'm not gonna let you ruin it for me. [Negative Hollow!]"

She swung her arm out only to misjudge and jam it straight into Brook's ghostly eye socket.

Where it got stuck.

"Aah!" Brook yelped as something left her hand and traveled down his tether. "Get your arm out of my head!"

"Get your head out of my arm!"

He could feel her inside him. It was more than mere substance; there were... fragments swirling within him. Scattered feelings, scraps of memory. It was like catching a glimpse into a strange kaleidoscope.

"S-Stop! You're s-sucking them all out of me!" Perona shrieked as a torrent of ghosts poured out of her and down Brook's lifeline, each one leaving her body less substantial.

"I'm not doing anything!"

Her figure faded more and more and even her cries became faint and distant. As her last traces vanished completely, one last hollow passed into Brook's spirit.

There was a sharp Twang—like the plucking of a guitar string—and Brook snapped back to his body like one of Luffy's limbs.

S/He awoke some time later with a mind hazy and cluttered by too many memories. S/he remembered growing up in a small fishing village, yet also in the middle of a big city. Joining the Rumbar pirates and begrudgingly tagging along with Gecko Moria. A passion for music and a love for stuffed animals.

But clashing memories were quickly brushed aside s/he was nearly overwhelmed by a flood of nostalgic sensation. S/he opened her/his eyes, realizing with a start that s/he had eyelids to open.

But that wasn't all s/he had!

Skin! Fingernails! Muscles! It was all back! Not quite the way s/he remembered it, but it was back all the same and with a new outfit to boot!

Her figure was that of a young woman in her prime. There was no more internal debate as to her gender; not with a cup size that rivaled her Strawhat crewmates’. Her bountiful breasts were barely contained by a silk dress shirt and a tailed dinner jacket. Her legs were hidden by layers  of skirts: clashing patterns of blood-red, bone-white, and void-black.

Her head was, at least, familiar in two respects. Her hair—a near-spherical hedge of hundreds of tiny pink curls— and her face—sharp, aristocratic features that radiated a sense of regality.

But it all felt somehow... hollow. False.

Flexing some mental muscle, she watched in curious interest as the flesh of her hand shriveled and shrunk away into her sleeve leaving familiar bone behind. A part of her tried to scream in horror, but half a century of competing memories assured that it was fine. Another twitch and the flesh returned, in seconds restoring her hand to peachy perfection.

"Well that's interesting."

Feeling the memories fight, merge, assert dominance, and settle into agreements, Brook took stock of her situation.

As her inaugural act as a woman, Brook did what came naturally. She lifted her skirts.

"Ooh, they've got little skulls on them! Yohoho-holoholoholo!"