[Arc] Mountains and Plains: Part II - North Blue Special

Rebirth was the favorite subject of many mystics. Some believed it was the fate of all living beings. Others argued it took supernatural powers to achieve. The rest were quick to dismiss the idea as impossible all together. Well, mysticism aside, there was a much easier approach. Sometimes... All you needed for rebirth was a good night’s rest, a hot shower and some breakfast.

A wistful song drifted through the lower deck of the mail ship. The words went something like... “But violent winds are upon us and I can't sleep... Internal temperatures rising and all the voices... Hm.” ...Something, something. The singer still couldn’t quite remember the lyrics.

Yumiko chewed on a piece of salty jerky, until it surrendered. Then she washed it down with fresh water. Even simple rations tasted heavenly after days of rotten scraps. Her long hair still dripped water from the shower. With all the blood and grime washed away, she felt and looked like a whole new person. She was borrowing simple civilian clothes she had found in the cabin. The striped shirt and torn shorts made her look like a deckhand.

After the humble breakfast, the Wano woman climbed up onto the deck. She was greeted by sunshine and salty winds. ...As well as a peculiar conversation. She tried to listen in, while basking in the breeze and drying her hair. Sadly, all of it went way over her head.

When the Revolutionary voiced her question, the former Marine didn’t hesitate to nod in response. “Verily so.” Her eyes shone with utmost seriousness. “I have never met them before, but all new recruits hear tales of their exploits. They are all legends in their own right.” Naturally, she had no idea that all those tales had been embellished along the way, much like all propaganda.

Nevertheless, the swordswoman was humbled to be in the presence of living legends. “After witnessing their tactics, ‘tis no wonder they outmaneuvered the hunters yesterday.” Her gaze narrowed and she glanced away. “I... am ashamed to admit that I cannot even begin to grasp the brilliance of the strategies they are discussing...” To her, it was like listening to a game of shogi being narrated by poets. Truly, these three operated on a different level.

The embers of curiosity from yesterday’s sudden meeting flared again. Yumiko cast a questioning glance at her unlikely ally. “If I may ask, why are thou helping them? And where are thou headed?” She had always been told that all Revolutionaries were merely violent terrorists without any goals, but... Ever since meeting Sir Price all those years ago, she had found herself doubting the truth of that claim...

---

Meanwhile on the open ocean, a familiar figure had run into a roadblock. Or a seablock, as it were. A mighty Marine battleship was aiming its hefty cannons at a comparatively tiny sailboat. On said boat sat a muscular knight dressed in impeccably white armor. His features were completely hidden by a bulky helmet with a black visor. Judging by his relaxed stance, he regarded the obstacle with nothing but mild curiosity.

A heavily scarred veteran with a Captain’s cap peered over the handrail at the vessel below. He held up a small snail that helpfully amplified his voice. [plyr=navy]“Does this boat belong to you, sir?”[/plyr] The polite question was met with silence. [plyr=navy]“Can I ask where you’re going to?”[/plyr] The only answer was an impassive stare. [plyr=navy]“Can I ask where you’re coming from?”[/plyr] The intensity of the silent gaze remained the same.

Despite all the obvious advantages of the mighty battleship over the tiny boat, the Captain experienced a strange sense of unease. Every sailor worth their salt knew to beware and respect an oncoming storm. Right now, he felt like he was looking at one... Or rather, one was looking at him.

Falling quiet, the Captain measured the small vessel with his gaze. The briefing had mentioned five targets. None of the descriptions matched this stranger. Such a tiny boat couldn’t possibly carry five people either. Between the collected facts and the ominous sensation lingering in the pit of his stomach, he eventually doffed his cap. [plyr=navy]“...Right then. Have a nice day, sir.”[/plyr]

The Stick, in his usual manner, said nothing. He simply took one look at the horizon, peering somewhere far away. Then, he grabbed an oar and started to row with fierce determination. A splash of salty water soaked the onlookers. Few minutes later, the little sailboat disappeared into the distance far faster than it had any right to go.

Words: 759
Total: 8087 / 13 500

Every act had a story behind it. Naturally, the vagabond was curious to hear the one that had led to... Well, all of this. Their last encounter had been brief and violent, but also under completely different circumstances. It felt strange to see the supposedly innocent civilian carrying out the will of the Revolutionaries.

Falling dead silent, the warrior simply focused on the story. An imaginary brush painted pictures on a mental scroll. Many new facts were associated with scrawled caricatures. Karate island, martial artist father, family dojo... It was a somewhat familiar background. Such things existed in Wano as well.

The wanderer suppressed the urge to scoff at the seed of hope in the tale. In her eyes, the world was far more than merely ‘mean and nasty’. It was a pot of tar with a bit of honey. Far more wicked people than good ones. Quietly, she wondered why anyone would even bother trying to change it anymore. It felt pointless.

As the story wrapped up, the weasel woman lowered her head and closed her eyes in contemplation. Folding her arms, she nodded firmly. “Thy father is wise.” She sincerely meant the nice sentiment. Now, a wise person would’ve left it at that.

Yumiko was not a wise person.

So, after a brief pause, the self-proclaimed samurai continued. “The battlefield is no place for women. They are far too weak to be warriors.” Barely had the words left her lips, when a flashback hit her. She recalled the shameful scene all too vividly. A cabbage seller of all foes had humbled her back on that weird, backwards island. “...Some exceptions aside.” She was reluctant to even consider that gorilla a woman.

Yumiko walked over to the railing and leaned against it idly. “I have met other Revolutionaries, even before our encounter on the island of Notice.” Another colorful recollection splashed against the canvas of her mind. She was mildly curious what had happened to the duo, Van Talling and Doctor Yes, who had helped Rias escape. Perhaps they were stirring up trouble somewhere.

Snapping back to reality, the samurai hesitated. “They are... peculiar.” It was the kindest word she could use in the situation. “But not all of them are heartless crooks. Some are noble and strong.” Such as Sir Price... It had been a long time ago. If they were to meet again, would he even remember her? Would he care? Probably not...

The well-meaning swordswoman cast a glance at her unlikely ally. “I strongly advise thee to leave this life behind, lest thou lose it all. Having a rare blade will not make thee strong enough to fight men.” While she couldn’t say she liked the shameless woman -only tolerated her at best-, she still didn’t wish to see anyone suffer. After all, this Revolutionary wasn’t evil... Only misguided. And terribly out of her depth in this world of monsters.

Words: 484
Total: 8571 / 13 500

Falling silent, the samurai stared at her unlikely ally. After a mere moment of listening, she changed her mind. This woman wasn’t misguided. “...Verily, thou are utterly shameless.” The comment was as blunt and flat as a whack from a paper fan. “‘Tis no crime, but... It should be.” She muttered bitterly.

Yumiko couldn’t even begin to fathom in what backwards country being the subject of lust counted as an advantage. However, she was certain Wano was no such country. “Do not presume to bring the noble kunoichi into this! There is far more to their ancient art than just... Just... Padding thy chest! It takes years of training to learn even a single ninjutsu.” She would know... After all, she had once aspired to be one. They were strong despite being women, not because of it.

The proud warrior folded her arms and scoffed. “I would sooner commit seppuku with a spoon than resort to such embarrassing and underhanded tactics...” She wasn’t sure how much longer she could tolerate this woman.

In body and mind, the two swordswomen were polar opposites. Yumiko had cast aside her feminine weaknesses a long time ago. Her lean, boyish figure stood as a testament of her efforts to hone her body into a weapon. It most certainly wasn’t a tool for fooling lecherous men.

(Un)fortunately for everyone involved, a distraction soon demanded immediate attention. A voice echoed loudly from a distance. [plyr=navy]“Unidentified mail vessel, please drop your anchor and prepare for a crew inspection.”[/plyr] A huge Navy gunship was calmly sailing closer. Its numerous cannons were already trained on the tiny target. Escape was not an option.

However, brilliant tacticians were never without a plan. ...One should hope, at least. After a quick huddle and exchange of hushed whispers, the team announced their scheme. They were going to disguise themselves and slip through this inspection.

After dropping the anchor, the guys raced below the deck and began rummaging through the cargo. Random items went flying. Clothes, accessories, even someone’s questionable underwear... Naturally, there was narration provided as well.

“Think of the great spies and infiltrators of fiction. Think of your Bames Nond, or even Sora the Hero. What they all have in common is the brilliant simplicity of their disguises. They hide in plain sight and walk among the people unnoticed.”

James finished his costume first. “I have... Taken a page out of their books... Like so.” He had grabbed a spare mailman uniform from the locker. Brush bristles as a mustache alongside a little bit of dirt and dust gave him a diligent worker’s look.

Jeremy was quick to interject. “I, meanwhile, beg to differ. The most important part of any disguise is having an air of authority. You can’t have anyone questioning your story. That’s why I have chosen to be the ship’s captain, complete with a nice hat.” True enough, he had managed to squeeze himself into a captain’s getup. And to be fair, the hat was indeed rather nice.

Still, the older man defended his approach. “No one will ever suspect the humble postman. It’s the most fitting disguise for the occasion, the most sensible choice-” He didn’t get to finish the thought.

Jeremy rolled his eyes at his colleague. “It’s the most boring costume you could’ve picked. I will dazzle them with my brilliance.” His posturing only invited criticism. “Or baffle them with your bollocks. There’s no way they won’t recognize your utterly exposed face. For heaven’s sake, at least wear glasses or something.”

Suddenly, a nearby jute sack piped up with a familiar voice. “While you guys bickered, I, on the other hand, chose the unexpected approach.” Richard’s head popped out, alongside with a couple of loose letters. “They’ll be looking for out of place guys, but not for out of place mails.” He gave his friends an expectant grin.

The expectation was met with, what else, snark. “...The sack suits you, because you look and sound like an utter cock.” For once, two of the three could agree on something. “If they do decide to check the sacks, you’re completely buggered. See, you can’t even move like that.” The comment elicited a defensive shrug. “Well, yes, not moving is the whole point, because...” And the bickering continued...

Oh, but wait... What disguises did the gals pick?

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Total: 9291 / 13 500

While the fugitives busied themselves with deception, the samurai cast a judging stare their way. She folded her arms and scoffed. “Hmph, disgraceful.” Turning her back on them, she firmly ignored the dubious display. “I shall have no part in such dishonorable tactics. I am not even wanted in the first place.” Thus, this was none of her concern.

However, the retort from Rias actually gave Yumiko pause. “...What? N-no, this is not a disguise. I am...” She hesitantly glanced at her outfit. “...merely borrowing someone else’s garb.” Right. It was the only spare clothing available in her size. The fact that it made her look like a deckhand was purely coincidental. Her intention was not to deceive anyone. If anyone asked her identity, she would not lie. So she silently swore.

Waiting around was gnawing on the honorable warrior’s nerves. The Navy vessel was taking its time drifting closer. To keep herself busy, she grabbed a nearby deck brush and started scrubbing the deck. It gave her something else to think about. She certainly wasn’t doing it to blend in, absolutely not.

Soon, the gunship dropped its anchor beside the smaller vessel. A catwalk was extended and a squad of armed Marines marched across. They formed ranks on both sides of the catwalk with practiced precision.

Finally, the Captain of the Marine crew stepped onto the deck. He was a wizened, old man, whose back had been pushed down by years of experience. His magnificent mustache and many wrinkles kind of made him resemble a walrus. He carried a pen in one hand and a clipboard in the other. Straightening up, he bellowed a simple command. [plyr=navy]“‘’Teeeen-HUT!”[/plyr] All the underlings clicked their heels together, stood at attention and saluted.

Even Yumiko immediately snapped to attention. She didn’t even realize she was doing it. Her body moved on its own, unable to resist the reflexes that had been drilled into her. She held the cleaning utensil at her shoulder, just like the soldiers held their guns.

Pretend-captain Clarkson was quick to welcome the guests. “Welcome to the sho-er, aboard, gentlemen. Sorry to disappoint you, but we haven’t seen any fugitives around these parts.” Despite the small stumble, he knew how to sound confident at least.

The mustachioed man answered with a noncommittal grunt. [plyr=navy]“Hrm.”[/plyr] He took his clipboard, flipped open a fresh page and jotted down something. Glancing up from his papers, he voiced a gruff question. [plyr=navy]“Mind if I question some of the crew?”[/plyr] ...Honestly, he sounded a little like a walrus too.

Meanwhile, a small speck appeared in the distance, accompanied by wildly splashing water. It was getting closer kind of quickly. ...Make that very quickly. And it looked an awful lot like... A tiny sailboat suddenly zoomed past the Marines and the mail ship. It did a messy turn, skidding along sideways across the water, like a speedy land vehicle would slide on its wheels.

As the speedy boat came around to another pass, a silhouette leapt high into the sky. The blinding sun masked its flight. It touched the deck as softly as a falling feather. Approaching the saluting samurai from behind, the shadow stalked silently closer...

[plyr=navy]“At ease!”[/plyr]

Yumiko relaxed her stance in unison with the soldiers. Without thinking about it, she spun the brush around and returned to scrubbing. She avoided a hatch, some rolled up ropes and a pair of armor-clad legs... Wait.

An unsettling chill ran down the warrior’s spine. Gritting her teeth, she calmed her nerves and summoned a hushed whisper. “So, we meet again, brave hunter...” She stared up at the armored hunter. Her blade was below the deck... All she had was the broom... Yet she couldn’t even move, frozen in mid-scrub. “Have thou sided with the Navy...?” She couldn’t fathom when or how he had caught up... But this truly was the worst possible time for him to appear.

In response, the Stick said absolutely nothing. He regarded the deck brush pointed at him with a quiet stare. Glancing around, he found a stray mop and grabbed it. After feeling its heft and giving it a tentative swing... He too started cleaning the deck. In fact, he was doing such a fantastic job blending in that none of the Marines noticed there was now a second deckhand. It was the art of hiding in plain sight.

Utterly stunned and a little insulted, the samurai gaped at the peculiar behavior. She struggled to keep whispering instead of yelling at the strange man. “Wha-hey-do not change the subject...!” Was... Was this man mocking her? Because she felt mocked.

Words: 768
Total: 10 059 / 13 500

As the Marine Captain went around questioning the crew, he took every answer without much of a response. He simply jotted down a couple of notes on the clipboard he carried around. Only the knife-happy chef managed to unnerve him. ...Which was fair, considering the gruesome topic. That too got a couple of lines written about it.

Returning to the deck, the inspector approached the last two enigmas. He rattled off the questions with practiced cadence. His focus was on the armored stranger. Awkwardly silent seconds ticked away... But no response ever came.

As always, the Stick merely stared without showing any strong emotion one way or the other. ...Well, maybe there was a hint of mild annoyance. Hard to say, really, with the concealing helmet and all.

Thinking fast, Jeremy took it as his cue to step in and speak on the silent man’s behalf. “Some say that his politics are terrifying, and that he once punched a horse to the ground. All we know is, he’s called the Stick.” Mentally, he patted himself on the back for such a timely intervention. It manifested as a smug grin that seemed to irritate his taller comrade.

[plyr=navy]“...Hrm.”[/plyr]

Seemingly accepting the odd answer, despite it not actually answering two thirds of the questions, the inspector moved onto the long-haired woman. Once again, hopefully for the last time today, he asked the same questions. If he was growing weary of them, he didn’t show it at least.

Yumiko, for her part, held onto her silent promise. “Kamaitachi no Yumiko. This one is a vagabond.” She refused to lie, even if it might bring detriment to the crew. Their success was none of her concern after all. “From the country of Wano.” She puffed her chest proudly and spoke nothing but the truth. “‘Tis mine first day.” Granted, the truth may have been a matter of perspective. Still, she answered the exact questions.

The Marine Captain stopped to consider the answers briefly. [plyr=navy]“Hrm... Quite far from home...”[/plyr] He squinted at the woman, who in turn squinted right back. [plyr=navy]“You wouldn’t happen to be the samurai who serves Rear Admiral La’croix?”[/plyr] Clearly he had done his homework.

Without missing a beat, the former samurai nodded. “Yes, I used to serve Sir Anton of La’croix. However, I resigned recently.” Her heart thundered. Had there been an arrest warrant on her? She had committed unforgivable crimes after all...

Against all expectations, the walrus-like man simply nodded and jotted down a couple more notes. [plyr=navy]“Well, thank you for your time.”[/plyr] He commented, turning to leave. Silent relief washed over the disguised crew.

Just before stepping back onto the walkway, however, the mustachioed inspector stopped. He tapped the clipboard thoughtfully with his pen. [plyr=navy]“Just... One last question, Captain Kruch...”[/plyr] Glancing over his shoulder, he leveled a calm look at the disguised captain. [plyr=navy]“How did you know we were looking for fugitives?”[/plyr] It felt like time had stopped. Even the wind seemed to fall silent...

Jeremy could offer no answer...

The Marine Captain brushed his walrus mustache idly. His tone remained solemn and serious. [plyr=navy]“You see, that information isn’t public yet. Not even to News Coo. Either you had to receive the Navy briefing... Or you had to be involved with the Revolutionaries. That’s the only way you could know.”[/plyr] Allowing the realization a moment to sink in, he made a small pointing motion with his hand. In unison, the soldiers leveled their guns at the suspects.

[plyr=navy]“You’re under arrest, sir.”[/plyr]

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Total: 10 641 / 13 500

Some say that letters can change the world. Granted, people who made the claim probably weren’t thinking about lighting something on fire with them. The drifting fireball kissed the sun-dried sail. Such a forbidden romance made the sparks fly. Slowly, gently, the hungry flames started painting the white canvas black.

Unfortunately, the approaching disaster eluded all the Marines supposed to be keeping watch. Even the recruits who stayed behind to secure the ship were blissfully blind to the flickering light growing above their heads. Now, to be fair, they were quite enthralled by the thriller unfolding on the smaller vessel’s deck. It wasn’t every day you got to see the arrest of three living legends.

By the silent orders of the Marine Captain, the boarding party spread out. There were two soldiers against each suspect, including the talking sack. Guns aimed, they stalked closer with calm, slow steps. Along the way, they barked the standard set of orders. “Get on your knees! Keep your hands where we can see them! No sudden movements!” Simple enough.

However, at least two souls refused to follow the orders. First, there was Yumiko. She held her head high, staring down the approaching gunmen. “I have committed no crimes against thee, yet thou treat me like a criminal.” The irony was not lost on her. Perhaps this was simply karma finally catching up to her.

In return, the Marine Captain lowered his gaze. A tinge of regret lingered in his calm voice. [plyr=navy]“I’m sorry, miss. Aiding the NRA is considered a crime. If you don’t resist, no one has to get hurt.”[/plyr] He didn’t enjoy this part of the job. Never had, never would.

The warrior closed her eyes. With a deep breath, she steeled her focus. “Mine blade is a tool of justice. Not drawn in anger. Not wielded selfishly.” Her eyes flashed open. A chill wind swept across the deck. “But... This is not mine blade.” She assumed her stance, holding the improvised weapon at ready like a kendo sword.

Stunned, the Marines shared a puzzled look. After a brief, awkward pause, one of them piped up. “Right... Because that’s clearly a deck brush.” Another one just had to make sure they were all on the same page. “You’re challenging us... Armed with a brush?”

Yumiko stood her ground. “I would challenge thee unarmed.” Grim winds whispered inside her head. She had already assaulted several soldiers simply trying to follow their duty... What was two, or a dozen more?

Meanwhile, the second uncooperative soul seemingly grew indifferent to the exchange. Without saying a word, the Stick walked past the soldiers, heading for the stairs leading below the deck. One of the foes tried to stop him, by blocking the path and shoving the barrel right into his visor. “Hold it! I said, get on-” A single smack from the weirdly sturdy mop sent the poor fool flying into the water.

Only the ensuing splash snapped the gawking Marines back into reality. The tension snapped. “...Look out, he’s got a mop!” All the available gunmen leveled their weapons at the suspect. A volley of shots pinged off the armor, ricocheting in random directions. People yelped and jumped back.

Slowly, the Stick turned his silent gaze onto the startled foes. Exactly three seconds ticked by. He lifted his mop with malicious intent. All Hell broke loose.

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Total: 11 202 / 13 500

At a glance, it was easy enough to mistake the chaos for a battle between two distinct sides. White and blue uniforms surrounded a group of misfits. More of their kind poured from the ship like angry ants. The smaller side was terribly outnumbered and outgunned. However, that estimate was gravely wrong...

For there was a third faction.

Fists, blades, bullets... All clashed uselessly against the white armor. The Stick was on no one’s side, because no one was on his side. Thus, he simply bulldozed through anyone brave or foolish enough to stand in his way. He met every opponent head on, marching through a hail of pain to smack them with his mop. Foes went flying with each strike. His fighting style was repetitive, methodical... And terrifyingly effective.

In stark contrast, Yumiko was darting and leaping around wildly. She delivered swift, sweeping strikes. It resembled a frantic dance, where guns and swords provided the song. She felt her mind slipping away. A strange sensation fluttered in her chest. She couldn’t quite place it... Only knowing that it wasn’t unpleasant...

Between the two cleaners, the deck was getting swept clean of unwelcome guests. As they hesitated, the weasel woman took the moment to assess the situation. She could no longer claim this wasn’t her battle... Thus she felt a sense of worry for her new comrades.

However, the samurai soon found her worries entirely unfounded. She stopped to witness the three mastermind expertly defending themselves from a series of clumsy threats. Not only that, but her sharp ears caught them brewing their next plan already. After the initial shock wore off, she could only nod in silent respect. She should have expected as much from the greatest tactical minds of the Navy. With the Revolutionary assisting them, they clearly had everything under control.

With her mind at ease, the warrior rushed back into the fray. She spotted the armored foe heading for the red-headed karateka. Taking a deep breath, she stowed the tool like she was sheathing a blade. In a blink, she seemed to vanish.

A chill wind blew across the deck...

One heartbeat later, Yumiko reappeared right in front of the bounty hunter. She brought her weapon up in a violent drawing slash. The foe mirrored the motion, with a downwards swing. It sounded like a clash between lead pipes. The tools bent and groaned, but refused to break. It was as if an unseen force was holding them together.

The swordswoman gritted her teeth. Her muscles were screaming underneath the weight, but she stood her ground through sheer stubbornness. “I am sorry, brave hunter... But the beast thou failed to slay blocks thy path...” She wasn’t sure why, but she felt no fear. There was only the odd flutter persisting in her chest...

As the two fighters were locked in a clash, a massive shadow appeared beside them. The Marine Captain had been biding his time. Now he found the perfect opening. Revealing his hand, he took the form of a humanoid walrus. He loomed over the foes like a tower of muscle and blubber. Rearing his head back, he brought his mighty tusks down like a guillotine.

In that instant, something clicked. Adrenaline spiked. It felt like time slowed down to a crawl. The samurai felt a connection to her silent opponent in a way she couldn’t describe. Her eyes widened. There was something on their weapons, a sheen of darkness that normal eyes couldn’t see. Likewise, she could feel a distinct intention emanating from beneath that mask. She knew what the man wanted to do.

Acting on pure instinct, the warrior pulled her weapon back. The bounty hunter did the same. She steadied her stance, turning her attention onto the incoming tusks. Again, her armored opponent mirrored the motion. “Thou are in our way!” She declared. Her opponent stayed silent. Moving as one, they delivered a devastating team strike.

The violent retaliation shattered the tusks and launched the walrus man backwards. He crashed right through the battleship’s main mast. Broken chunks rained down, followed by a now blazing sail. Finally, the enemies realized their ship was burning. Medics were called. Water buckets were brought out.

With the enemy ranks in disarray, Yumiko broke off from the Stick. “Rias! Please cover mine back!” She started spinning the makeshift staff above her head, whipping up a whirlwind around her. “I shall clear the area...” Like any storm, she needed a moment to gather her power.

Words: 749
Total: 11 951 / 13 500

With the help from the karateka, the samurai was free to gather her strength uninterrupted. In her corner of her eye, she saw the woman split her peculiar blade in two. It sparked an unsettling sense of familiarity. Flashes of old tales invaded her mind. Wasn’t that...? Shaking her head vehemently, she promptly banished the thought.

Not here, not now.

But...

If they survived to see tomorrow, then she would have some serious questions...

As the vortex grew, the eye of the storm became Yumiko’s own little world. The sounds of the brawl no longer reached her sharp ears. Rather, she listened to the currents dancing around her. There was a faint, yet distinct melody to it. The wind sang to her.

After listening for a moment, the warrior hummed a handful of notes as well. They rode the winds. Her focus sharpened. All of a sudden, other sounds flooded her ears once again. Each gunshot was like a drum, every slash like a flute, each scream a note. For a brief moment, she could hear music everywhere.

Suddenly, the whirlwind erupted into a howling tornado. It tore through the enemy ranks, scattering them into the sea. Engulfed by wisps of watery mist, the warrior’s silhouette dashed, jumped and twirled across the deck. Each motion swept more and more of the foes into the water.

Soon, only the armored bounty hunter stood firm. The visored gaze focused on the incoming blur. As he crossed his arms, they seemed to take a sheen of black. Savvy fighters knew it was no mere trick of light. The incoming attack clashed against the block. With hardly any effort, he bounced the assailant away.

Despite getting knocked back, Yumiko landed deftly on her feet. Her figure was wreathed in whistling winds. “Thou blocked... I see...” She set the weapon at rest by her hip and offered the opponent a deep bow. “At last, thou have acknowledged me as a worthy opponent. Thou have mine thanks.” As she straightened her back, she took the same ready stance from earlier. One hand on the weapon, leaning forward, ready to strike.

In a blink, the swordswoman vanished. She closed the distance, delivering a blindingly fast slash. Though the foe blocked again, it carried enough power to send him skidding backwards. Relentless in her assault, she fired four crescent blasts of wind. Each one drove the foe further back, until he was standing on the gangway between the two ships.

“But I fear our true clash must wait for a little longer. Forgive me.”

As the bang and the snap echoed through the air, the small ship started slipping away. The Stick looked down, as the planks trembled underneath his feet. With a crack and a splash, gravity stole the win.

Yumiko lowered her improvised weapon and walked over to the railing. She looked down at the bubbles rising from the depths. “Until we meet again, brave hunter.” No, this was not the end. She could feel it. The fearsome man was not done yet.

Fortunate winds picked up and the small ship sailed away. Leaving the blazing battleship behind, they soon disappeared into the distance. Once again, the tactical geniuses had secured a narrow victory. In their wake, they left young soldiers sharing hushed whispers about the utterly unpredictable tactics.

Once the Marines had put out the fires and fished up their men, they gathered to lick their wounds. The heavily injured Captain ordered a retreat, while they called for the back-up. As the anchor rose from the sea, so did something else along with it...

From the depths appeared the armored man, sitting on the hooked hunk of metal. Arms folded, he stared unflinchingly at the horizon. His attention shifted onto his little fishing boat. With a loud clang that startled a cabin boy, he kicked off and landed onto his vessel. The oars started twirling and the pursuit continued.

Words: 654
Total: 12 605 / 13 500

Gazing out to the sea, the weasel wondered. Pondered. The horizon seemed so vast, so full of wonders, yet always out of reach. No matter how far one traveled, it never got any closer. A mere mirage in the distance. Her life was the same way. She had sailed so far from home... Witnessed many strange things...

And what did she have to show for it?

A tarnished reputation and blood on her hands.

All her life, the samurai had pursued a greater purpose. A noble cause, shining like the sun in the horizon. She had chased a prey that she couldn’t quite catch. Now, she had to wonder... Was that prey ever even real? Or was it merely the sun’s reflection dancing on the waves?

Yumiko snapped out of her thoughts, when Rias leaned next to her. She shuddered at the praise. Receiving gratitude for turning against her former comrades... It felt revolting. But she kept to the thought to herself and said nothing.

The warrior’s gaze slowly drifted downwards, focusing on the sparkling water. “Helping people...” She latched onto the thought. “Does that include bombing an embassy?” The idea twisted her stomach. Her hands tensed into trembling fists. “Is destroying a bridge and killing ninety-seven people thy idea of help?” She left the muttered questions hanging in the air like a guillotine blade.

After a brief pause, just a couple of ticks, the tension faded away. Yumiko turned to her unlikely ally and bowed her head. “Mine apologies. ‘Tis unfair to judge a warrior by the deeds of their comrades.” She especially had no right to judge. Not after her mistakes.

Leaning against the railing again, the samurai cast her gaze far away again. Her mind followed suit. “Once, long ago, I sided with thy army, not by choice, but by necessity... It was...” Memories of a messy uprising flashed through her mind. “...Bloody.” She scattered them to the wind. Her shoulders sagged with a heavy sigh.

“To this day, I am not sure if I made the right choice...”

Words: 342
Total: 12 947 / 13 500

Falling silent, the warrior simply listened. Her gaze remained in the waves, sinking deep into the murky depths. Beneath the frigid surface roiled remorse. Her cold eyes reflected the hesitation. She didn’t feel ready to answer the question.

Didn’t want to, either...

It had been years since the hunter’s first kill, yet now the familiar sensation felt all agonizingly fresh again. While the past several days felt like a blur, certain details moments out like the spines of a cactus. Simply recalling them stung.

Eventually, the samurai replied. “I do not wish for it to become easier. Nay, every day, I pray that it remains difficult.” She raised her head from the depths, directing it into the faraway horizon. “The more one distances themselves from humanity, the easier it becomes to hurt others. To spill blood.” She cast a glance at her ally.

“To take lives.”

The thought was left to linger.

It overstayed its welcome in the awkward silence.

Brushing the thought aside, the swordswoman took a deep, calming breath. She searched for the words. “Once it becomes easy, thou have strayed from the path of humans. Once thou start to enjoy it...” Her voice wavered. “Thou become something less than a beast.”

Yumiko returned her eyes to the ocean. She stared at the distorted reflection on the glimmering surface. It stared back. “Only monsters feel no remorse over blood spilled.” Even now, she feared that one day she would only find the visage of the weasel.

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Heavy silence followed the pause. Guilt jabbed its needle between the samurai’s ribs. She clutched the cloth of her garb over her heart. Yet again, that awful day came back to haunt her. So readily she had condemned the woman to a lawless life.

And for what?

Justice?

Yumiko’s eyes narrowed. She grit her teeth in growing frustration. All her life, she had followed what she believed to be justice. To be right. Only now she was starting to see the real effects of her zeal. How many lives had she ruined while pretending to save them?

In stark contrast to the revolutionary’s openness, the samurai averted her gaze. Shame burned in her chest. “It matters not what I believe...” She shook her head. “We all have to choose our own paths. Sometimes we just...” Hesitation halted her voice. “...choose poorly.” She muttered bitterly.

Upon hearing the difficult question, the swordswoman hesitated. She aimed her gaze far beyond the horizon, to a time and a place that were mere memories now. “T’was years ago... In East Blue on the island of Durban...”

Yumiko’s voice drifted in the sea breeze. She regaled a grim tale of a tyrant, a swordsman and a hunter. Filtered through archaic dialect, the story took some fantastical tones. There was mystery, drama and just a touch of accidental comedy. The last bit clashed against her cold and distant tone. Regardless, she shared the story as she remembered it.

For a more outrageous claim, the storyteller claimed to have met Sir Price, the beloved Smiling Pauper of the revolutionaries, face to face. Her tale painted the man as a hero with a smile that was difficult to trust. She shared how it was him who had pulled the strings, alongside the man she had considered her Captain back then.

If the listener found the story intriguing, it would fly by. And if not, well, that would be her problem. Either way, it wrapped up decently soon.

“Thus, after defeating the foul tyrant, we left the island and I continued my pursuit for true justice...”

Yumiko paused to mull over the story. It had been the first time she had openly defied a ruler. As she had mentioned during the retelling, she still considered it a black stain upon her record. “Yet here I am, no closer to that goal as I was all those years ago...” She mused quietly.

“The dream is dead... ‘Tis time to wake up.”

Words: 411
Total: 13 606 / 13 500

Yumiko couldn’t blame Rias for not having heard of the old incident. “Few have... ‘Tis not a glorious tale.” Some stories were meant to be buried and forgotten beneath the sands of time. Occasionally, she even questioned her own recollection of the events.

Nothing could have prepared the samurai for the gut-punch of a question that followed. Her eyes widened. She could practically feel the pain twisting in her stomach. It knocked the wind out of her, in a verbal sense anyway. No words came out.

Thus, the swordswoman merely listened. Her eyes narrowed at the piercing guesses. None of them were wrong. Nay, in a way, every single one was correct. Eventually, a single word slipped past her gritted teeth.

“...Fun...”

The weasel woman inhaled sharply. She steeled her focus. “That fight against the corrupt king... It was... fun.” She confessed grimly. “Not because of a greater purpose... Not even for the people...” Hanging her head in shame, she struggled to stop her voice from wavering. “I... forgot all those things... And lost myself in the battle.”

Yumiko stepped back from the railing. “That... is the difference between thee and I...” Placing a hand on her weapon, she cast a peculiar look at the Revolutionary. “Thou are a good person...” All of a sudden, she drew her blade in a violent motion. A flying slash passed far too close. It cleaved a fading scar against the surface of the ocean.

“I am not.”

Breathing out slowly, the samurai sheathed her blade. It clicked against the sheath softly. “Protect those who cannot protect themselves...” She muttered, repeating her mantra. Her hand lingered on the hilt. “It sounds so simple, yet... I have lost more battles than I care to count, trying to uphold mine bushido.” Regred lingered in her tone.

Words: 300
Total: 13 906 / 13 500