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There’s a certain type of people that can be only found at sea. The kind of people who left the stagnation of their home islands for the wild adventure of the ocean, who said “fuck you” to every social norm and stereotype along the way, because what is piracy if not freedom? The kind of people who were rejected for being different, except they took that and ran with it, went from the weird kid down the road to a flamboyant, outlandish, freak.
It’s no different on this island than from any of the other ones. Stares, and whispers, and fingers pointing to Franky’s cybernetic shoulders, Robin’s dozens of arms, Luffy’s rubber limbs, Brook’s skeletal visage. People mutter about bounties and emperors, about the Devil Child and the Soul King.
The crowd parts around them easily, leaving a wide berth. None of the townspeople want to stand too close. Terrified of being associated with the freaks of nature that are an Emperor and his crew.
Sanji lights up a cigarette as they’re heading back to the Sunny. Takes a long drag, and blows out the smoke. “You can relax now, the sea freaks are leaving!” Franky tosses out offhandedly.
There’s almost a palpable wave of relief that passes over the crowd, thank the seas those strange people are gone. As if the presence of outsiders is poison to them.
But no Strawhat would ever choose anything but the sea’s wild blue yonder, and for pirates, the circus is always in town.