[Social] Island Establishment

Somewhere deeper in the mansion, another soldier stirred... Sort of. Yumiko woke up from a trashed hole that passed for a bathroom in this ruined hovel. She found herself hugging a toilet seat, staring at murky water. Pain was pounding like a hammer and her head was the anvil. Each strike made her vision throb and sway. She had no recollection of what happened last night. Only faint flashes passed through her mind, but trying to focus on any single one made the pounding intensify. It felt like her tongue and throat had grown a carpet of hair. Trying to clear the sensation only produced a gruff growl. Water... She needed water... Her nose wrinkled. Guh... And a bath.

Unfortunately, the tap wasn’t working. Well, it had been kind of wistful thinking considering the overall state of the place. To make matters worse, she seemed to have misplaced all her clothing, save for a pair of dark boyshorts. It raised questions she would rather not answer... With a quick search, she only found some filthy towels, which she would rather not wrap around herself. So she needed to get creative... Discarding the last line of defense for her dignity, she cast the underwear aside and dropped to all fours. Her face twisted and stretched into an animalistic shape. White fur started rapidly spreading across her skin, covering her shame. In moments, the woman vanished, replaced by a huge weasel with massive, scythe-like claws.

Yumiko observed her form against the broken mirror. The transformation concealed everything questionable. In the right stance, she could’ve passed for a man, perhaps... At least so she assured herself as she peered out of the bathroom. The coast was clear... She trotted along the murky hallways as quickly as her recent injuries allowed. Her plan was to find the master and humbly beg to use his personal washing quarters back on the ship. At least that was the plan, until she came across a familiar door and caught an unfamiliar voice. Someone was reporting to the master...? Soundlessly she crept closer to the door. Her sharp nose sniffed the air, trying to place the scent of the mystery person. This... This was not eavesdropping! She was only patiently waiting for her turn. Right behind the door. Just a monstrous weasel ready to loom menacingly over anyone who happened to step out of the make-shift office first.

As the door opened, the monster weasel stared at the two humans before her. Anton’s greeting and invitation were only met with a curt nod. Beneath the icy exterior, however, the woman was petrified. She wanted to protest, to refuse, but the words evaded her. How was she supposed to explain her... state... with another officer in the room? What if the newcomer got the wrong idea? It would reflect poorly on the captain... Oh, and her too, most likely, but that was beside the point. A weapon had no feelings. It did not care how others saw it. No shame, no hesitation. ...So she quietly told herself anyway, repeating the lines like a mantra inside her head.

Like most Zoans, Yumiko was much taller and bulkier in her transformed state. Fortunately, having the physical build a furry noodle meant that she could pass through any hole big enough for her head. She deftly slipped through the doorway and stopped in front of the newcomer. Her piercing gaze studied the man carefully, from his refined physique to his strong face and odd hairstyle. Likewise, her pointed snout twitched, taking in his scent. Gun powder, standard issue shoe polish and... hair gel? A lot of hair gel. His name reminded her of home.

Ryoichi’s salute and greeting was acknowledged with a firm nod. “‘Tis an honor to meet thee.” Her voice was a deep and gravelly growl, further shattering the image of a young, beautiful woman. The rather manly musk clinging to her certainly didn’t help either... Someone was in for a shock or two quite soon. She dipped her head down, bowing deeply. “I am Yumiko, the captain’s humble servant.” Actually, she wanted to call herself a samurai, a swordswoman and a proud vassal in the service of her lord, but... No, she was not worthy. And the master often got strange when she called him that, so...

Speaking of whom...

Yumiko’s gaze strayed onto the man who had so brazenly dragged her into this highly improper situation. She was not the type to believe in accidents. Nay, her master was a brilliant and cunning strategist. There was definitely a reason behind this. A punishment...? Or a lesson, perhaps? Either way, she had no choice but to accept it. “Master.” She started gruffly. Her throat was still as dry as a sandpit. Suddenly she dropped onto the floor, bowing her head as low as was physically possible. “Would thou please hear mine selfish request?” She was struggling to find the proper words to describe her... problem.

Today was a day of interruptions, it seemed. While Anton seemed to trail off with the permission, Yumiko was desperate enough to take it as permission granted anyway. “Sir, I would like to-” However, she barely got a couple words in when he stopped her. Never the type to speak on top of others, she could only wait and listen. The apology was met with confusion. “Sir...?” The sensation of something being draped over her felt all too familiar. As did this scent. She raised her head slowly. Carefully. Being a flexible creature, she managed to twist her head back just enough to see the white coat.

...His coat.

The weasel woman’s eyes widened and jaw dropped. Somehow, he blush burned luminescent enough to shine through her white fur. T-t-t-this was his coat! The sacred cloth only superiors were allowed to wear! Having it on her broke at least five different rules of the Marine Code. Left utterly speechless by the scandalous gesture, she couldn’t even get out a proper protest. Her paws swiped towards it, only to come to a screeching halt mere inches away from the fabric. She stared at her massive claws in ever growing panic. It was true that a blade could cut through stone, yet leave paper untouched, if the wielder was skilled enough... But she was not focused enough for that!

Luckily, the First Mate wasn’t alone in this situation. Her gaze darted around the room, until they found her new ally. “Sir Ryoichi!” The commanding growl demanded his attention. Since she was just a Petty Officer by rank though, she could not actually command the man. Instead, she rapidly scuttled towards him and begged for his assistance with no small amount of desperation in her tone. “Please remove the Captain’s sacred jacket and brush it before mine filthy fur sullies it! Quickly!” As for why she didn’t simply transform back and do all that herself... Well, it was a fair question. Why indeed?

Much to Yumiko’s immense relief, her reliable ally understood the situation and moved to help her. Unfortunately, her request for assistance was overruled by the commanding officer. Despite having sharp hearing, she couldn’t believe her ears. “Sir?!” His words made it clear that he had completely misunderstood her worry. Glancing between her superior and her ally, she teetered between shock and desperation. Hearing Anton order a new uniform was almost as bad as hearing Ryoichi clearly put the puzzle pieces together. While she had been naked thus far, only now she felt exposed. The mental mantra did nothing against the intense shame boiling inside her.

Like most soldiers, when faced with a shocking situation, the weasel woman reverted to her basic training. That was the point of such training after all. In this case, it called for delivering her report as clearly as possible. Or request rather. She dropped back into a deep dogeza, a bow familiar to her home country. “Sir, I would like to take a bath in thy personal quarters, sir!” Her shout rang so clear that probably half the mansion heard it...

Reeling back the volume, the wounded marine tried her best to explain. “I fully understand that such luxuries are beyond my rank, but I truly am filthy.” Desperation shook her voice. “So I beg of thee, sir! I will do anything! Just please allow me this one selfish request!” She knew full well that what she was asking was outrageous, wanting to waste valuable resources like that on a recently conquered island. Not to even mention the scandal of a mere low-rank soldier using something other than the communal showers. Luckily, she quickly thought of a solution. “If thou need me to conserve water, we can all bathe together!” That would solve the water problem that may or may not have been just inside her head. It also created a whole new set of problems.

During moments of desperation, people often said too much. As soon as Yumiko had blurted out her questionable suggestion, she realized it might get taken the wrong way. In the corner of her vision, she spotted Sir Ryoichi blushing. This in turn further fueled the furnace of embarrassment burning within her chest. The glow on her cheeks was growing brighter. She opened her mouth, but words refused to come out. What could she even say without making this worse? Fortunately, Anton took care of that. With kind words and a gentle gesture to go with them, he removed the burned from her shoulders. ...Wait, your quarters? She must have misheard, because her personal quarters were... modest. Befitting of a weapon. She didn’t have her own bath. D-did this mean that the master just gave her permission to share his quarters?! The scandalous thought painted her white features bright pink.

However, soon the Rear Admiral gave the Petty Officer something else to think about. Honestly, rank wasn’t something she often considered. Hers had been frozen ever since... the incident... involving Captain Hoggish. “Sir...?” Before she could voice her numerous concerns, he called her... a samurai. Such a simple word could mean so much, depending on who said it. To her, the words of a superior were absolute. Yet this time they sparked a flash of pain, reminiscent of a firework going off inside her head. Her expression twitched. She grit her teeth. Grim words crawled from the murky depths of her memory.

Yumiko clutched her aching head. Why...? Why did that sound so familiar? Yet trying to recognize the voice only made the pounding pain worse. She returned to reality in the middle of congratulations. Bewildered, she glanced around. “C-commander...?” But... She was not allowed... No, she had to fix this immediately. “S-sir, with all due respect...” And the rest of the words died on her tongue. For reasons she couldn’t explain, she didn’t want to correct him. To tell him that she couldn’t possibly accept this. He might get into trouble because of her...

Just then, the office door flew open.

...A pasty, pimply Cabin Boy stood awkwardly at attention. In his scrawny arms he clutched a neatly folded set of clothes. He piped up with a nasally voice. “Um, excuse me. I mean, reporting. I mean, here are the clothes you orde-” His clumsy report was cut short when the weasel woman suddenly snatched the clothes from him and bolted down the hallway. After the pasty boy recovered from the shock, his shoulders sagged weakly. “Oh geez, not again...” He hurried to salute the Rear Admiral. “Uh, I-I’ll go get those right back Mr. Rear Admiral Sir!” Without giving him a moment to explain, he rushed after the fleeing beast.

Yumiko rushed through the corridor as fast as her four legs could carry. ...Which wasn’t all that fast, honestly. She galloped awkwardly, swaying with each step. To no one’s surprise, suffering from bad wounds and even worse hangover left her a little sluggish. Hot on her tail was the duty-driven Cabin Boy. Fueled by a hearty breakfast of chips and energy drinks, he was quickly gaining on the weasel woman. “Wait up! Huff huff... Those aren’t yours!” His breath wheezed like a train whistle between the words. The chase was on and only dramatic music was missing.

Rounding a corner, the weasel nearly ran right into a couple of marines carrying a couch. There was a series of thuds, a heavy crash and finally by a blood-curdling curse when a poor soul’s toes got squashed. However, it didn’t slow her down much, as she slammed against a wall and scampered away. Her teeth clung tightly onto the clothes. Same applied to the relentless chaser. Agile like an anorexic monkey, he cleared the hurdle with only minor stumbling. Similar sounds echoed throughout the building. Crashes, thuds and yelps. The trail of chaos was easy to follow.

By now, the Cabin Boy happened to glance over his shoulder to see Anton giving chase as well. “Huff, huff... Uh, Mister Rear Admiral Sir, I have a question!” He narrowly avoided running into a guy carrying a cement sack. “Why do you need women’s clothes anyway?” Maybe not the best time for such questions, but it had been bugging him ever since he got the order. “Because the assistant quartermaster bet five kitchen duties that you secretly like crossdressing.” There was a pause, just long enough for the realization to sink in. “Oh, but I wasn’t supposed to tell you. Oh geez...” But he needed to know! Five kitchen duties, man!

Meanwhile, Yumiko finally reached the stairs leading down to the foyer ...Only to trip on the first step and go tumbling down like a living snowball. She bowled over a couple more marines, scattering boxes of rations onto the floor. Her eyes resembled spinning spirals for a good moment there. Struggling to get back onto her feet, she looked around desperately. The clothes! Where did the clothes go?! Unfortunately for her, the crash had also scattered her outfit all across the staircase and the large foyer. Kimono, hakama, underwear and more... One piece here, another there and the rest who knows where.

(Ilustrative picture of Ryoichi doing his best, to hold back his laughter)

Startled by the sudden shout, the Cabin Boy slammed into another soldier and tumbled into the nearest wall. He failed to get back onto his shaky legs. “Sooo that’s a no on the crossdressing then...?” After the careful question, he pumped his fist. “I knew it.” Five kitchen duties less for him. ...Except how was he going to prove it? He needed a neutral party, someone who had heard it too. Scampering back onto his feet, he turned to the other direction... And almost immediately ran right into Ryoichi. “Oh, I’m so sorry, sir!” His recovery was hastened by a spark of hope. He chased after the boxer, waving his arms wildly. “W-wait! You heard it too, right?! T-then you prove that I won the bet!” His priorities may have shifted slightly along the way...

Yumiko, on the other hand, was busy rushing around the foyer and collecting her clothes. Unfortunately, several passing soldiers happened to come across some pieces as well. One of them picked up a small, black bundle of cloth and turned it in his hands curiously. “What’s this...?” Puzzlement slowly turned into wide-eyed realization. “Wait, are these pan-?” His words were cut short by a chill wind blowing across the room. A sudden slash tore through the air. His shirt split in two and a pained gasp escaped his lips. The black cloth vanished. All the other soldiers present froze on their tracks, each holding a piece of scattered clothing. The violent wind blew past them as well. One by one, they all collapsed from their wounds. The white weasel's silhouette appeared briefly behind them, before disappearing again.

If, or rather when, Anton reached the foyer, he would find a whole squad of injured soldiers. The sturdiest of them struggled to stand up, while clutching his chest. “Sir! We were attacked by... something...” In the background, a less formal marine helpfully clarified. “SOME INVISIBLE SHITHEAD CUT ME!” The first soldier gritted his teeth and tried to keep the report professional. “Several of us were slashed by an unseen attacker, but the injuries are minimal. The wounds don’t even bleed.” True enough, the slashes were too shallow and clean to be dangerous. ...Depending on the view. “OH GOD, IT’S LIKE A GIANT PAPER CUT! THIS IS THE WORST!” The reporting soldier concluded with the most important part. “There were no casualties.” And his loud friend clarified that too. “I WANT TO DIE!” Unfortunately his wishes were not coming true.

Meanwhile, the front door was open and pawprints led down the hill towards the harbor. The weasel woman gasped weakly as she trekked through the snow. Silently she cursed her incompetence. When her fellow soldiers had come across her... private belongings... she had panicked and... well... made a terrible mistake. Not only had she attacked her allies, but also pushed herself too far. Now her injured body protested even the tiniest motion with piercing pain. Like standing in a rain of needles. Gah, such foolishness. A weapon should not care about meaningless things. But something behind her pounding headache kept whispering that she couldn’t consider herself a weapon anymore...

A soft pitter-patter of paws tapping against the snow drifted in the white wind. The paw prints painted an unsteady path past the trees. Yumiko was struggling to keep her pace and the cold kept gnawing at her injuries. She knew that if she stopped to rest, she would find the call of the soft, white bed all around her irresistible. And a traveler who laid down in the cold wouldn’t get back up again... A particularly vicious and mischievous gust whipped her in the face, blinding her briefly with ice shards. It stole a piece of clothing without her even noticing. The small, black garment fluttered in the wind. Would it fall on the ground? Get stuck on a tree branch? Or land right on a certain pursuer’s face? Questions that went unanswered for now.

Fortunately, the weasel woman’s stubborn fortitude served her well. Even with heavy injuries and heavier hangover, she reached the docks. Her white silhouette blended against the snowy backdrop, as she stalked towards the ship. She sniffed the air, spotting two marines on guard duty... “Halt, who goes there?” ...But by the time one of them called out, she was already gone. “Hah, just the wind. Man, you are getting jumpy.” His naive friend assured. Meanwhile, the hunter slipped right past them and leapt onto the ship. Her footprints trailed across the deck and right to the door. Slowly melting traces of snow were left in her trail, ultimately leading straight to the Captain’s Cabin.

Only upon reaching the private bedchamber, the wounded weasel stopped to rest. She shook the remaining snow out of her fur, more out of reflex than intention. Finally... Some warmth... Slowly the white fur started receding, vanishing into her skin. The massive claws retracted. All the weaselly features disappeared, until only the young woman remained. She clutched the clothing against her chest and peered around. This was the first time she had dared to ever actually enter her master’s private room. Usually she just slept right outside the door, after he went to bed. Being here still felt very much forbidden, even if she had technically received a permission. Now where was his bath...? Did he actually have a private bath? She had never seen him use the communal showers, so she always just kind of... assumed...

Back at the conquered manor, Ryoichi’s question was met with sideways glances and awkward silence. ...At least until the soldier he was carrying shot him a venomous glare and started shouting again. “WE DIDN’T DO SHIT!” The sturdiest of the wounded soldier also offered a helping hand. And some much needed clarification. “What my vulgar friend means is that we don’t know. We just came across some scattered clothes.” Others who were still conscious nodded in quiet agreement. However, the loudmouth wasn’t happy to just leave it there. “YEAH, THEN YOU GRABBED THOSE PANTIES AND SUDDENLY SWOOSH SLASH CUTS EVERYWHERE! SHIT’S CRAZY!” The awkward silence returned, washing over them like the rising tide. Well, what could you even say to that?

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