[Arc] Mountains and Plains: Part III - The Grand Tour

Time had a strange habit of slipping away. It went silently. Slyly. Like a thief in the night. A careless soul didn’t even notice it had gone, until someone else pointed it out.

That’s exactly what happened to Yumiko. She had lost herself in the story. In her mind, she was back in her dear home country, reading through the scroll of lost legends. Every word, down to the very last detail, flowed to her like it had been before her eyes once again.

The sudden call did the same to her vivid daydream as a cactus did to a balloon.

Snapping back to the present moment, the storyteller blinked. “Needed...?” She glanced around. For a moment, her wistful eyes sought scenery that was untold miles away. The spark died. She smothered it beneath frigid composure.

“Yes, of course...”

The weasel’s ears twitched. She caught a strange, muffled noise. It tugged at the edge of her hearing, teasing her by defying any direction. What was that...?

Meanwhile, the island kept creeping closer. It was like a mossy pebble in a shallow puddle, little more than polished rock and struggling shrubbery floating in the ocean. Calling the rocky shore a beach was like calling a pack of cigarettes a meal - inaccurate and unhealthy to anyone stupid enough to try.

Speaking of which...

The brilliant strategist took the opportunity to bless the crew with his wisdom. “Richard, turn three sheets to the wind!” He gestured around the ship like he was trying to swat an angry wasp. “James, batten down the mizzenmast and cut the jib! Chop chop!”

His so-called crew shared an exasperated look.

“Mate, I have no idea what he’s on about.” “Neither does he.”

Yumiko, on the other hand, was busy snooping around for the source of the peculiar sound. She dropped onto all fours, letting her instincts take over. Nose twitching, she sniffed the deck, as if that would somehow help. Nobody said the instincts were always right.

The sound... It reminded her of... of... What exactly? Someone smacking their lips together? Blowing a weirdly slow and dry raspberry? Quietly repeating the sound purupurupuru all over again?

However, the self-proclaimed captain didn’t let naysayers stop his brilliant plan. His lips curled with a dangerous grin. Most smiles showed cheer. This one mostly showed teeth. He gripped the wheel. A bit of elbow grease sent it spinning precariously. In a dramatic manner, even.

“And can someone get the sodding snail?!”

Words: 410
Total: 14 911 / 13 500

Even as the mystery of the strange sound was answered, Yumiko still kept her curious ears open. She heard nothing unusual in the hasty conversation. Some helpful soul had just provided them with a destination. This was probably all part of their brilliant strategy.

However, even the greatest strategy couldn’t account for everything...

When the Revolutionary voiced her concern, the warrior kept her steely gaze forward. “A more pressing problem is fast approaching.” She nodded at the bow of the ship. The shore was indeed approaching. Fast.

Roughly two seconds later, the small vessel came to a sudden and violent stop against a shallow beach. Everything not bolted down jerked forward. Barrels rolled and people stumbled. For the first time in its life, the poor snail experienced what it was like to fly.

Fortunately, the sandy shore provided some cushion. It was more of a thump than a thunk. There were no worrying cracks or agonized groans. ...From the vessel, at least. Their feathers were ruffled, sure, but at least their wings didn’t get clipped. Nothing that a little elbow grease couldn’t fix.

Honestly, the crew may have been worse off than the boat. The self-proclaimed captain was stuck in the spokes of the steering wheel like he was trying a new form of yoga. “Tonoite on... Bo’om Sail... I walk into a bloody schewpid ambush...” Eyes spinning wildly, he mumbled barely coherent nonsense.

“Hammock gets caught by... fucken’ I dunno... government agents...”

Nearby, a familiar pair of short legs stuck out of a barrel of salted sardines. A groan came from the bottom.

“And Jams gives in to the voices...”

On the other side, a dizzy man was tangled in a pile of rope in a way that would’ve made a seasoned sailor blush. He wheezed something in protest.

Meanwhile, a samurai-shaped mound moved on the beach. Her head popped out of the sand and spat out a mouthful of the same stuff. She shuddered at the awful sensation. It was coarse, irritating and it had gotten everywhere. Yes, even there.

Words: 342
Total: 15 253 / 13 500

Burrowing out of the pile, the weasel woman furiously shook herself. Her hair flopped like wet fur. Loose sand fell from the folds of her clothing. Silently, she promised herself a long bath in the closest onsen once this was over, even if she had to fly across the oceans.

While the well-endowed rival struggled, the lean samurai could only muster a silent stare. Murky thoughts formed a dark cloud over her head. Once again, she found herself standing on flat plains... Gazing up at looming mountains... Life was often unfair

All the floundering and shouting dragged Yumiko back to reality. Averting her gaze, she folded her arms defensively over her chest. “Thou bring a turtle to mind...” She muttered bitterly beneath her breath. Even if the rival asked, she refused to elaborate.

Desperate for a distraction, the warrior looked around. She needed something, anything, to steer the topic away from... Wait, why was it so quiet all of a sudden? Only the softly singing waves and the laughing gulls remained.

Yumiko leapt onto the boat. Empty. Not a soul left aboard. Worry crept into her mind. “Where have thy charges gone...?” The answer to her question was near Rias. Three sets of tracks on the soft sand were leading away from the boat.

Strutting along the beach, the terrible trio wandered towards the newly appointed meeting spot. While the girls guarded the boat, they would meet up with the revolutionaries and plot out the next steps. That was a man’s job, you know.

Jeremy, considering himself the natural leader, took the opportunity to fill the silence. To ‘pad out the runtime’, as he insistently called it. “We’re here at Fawkall Island, named by the first sailors based on what they found on the island.”

Richard kept up the pace, even if he had to take two steps every time his taller friend took one. He cocked a curious brow at the claim. “Hang on, I thought it was Fawkit Island? Named after what that famous pirate captain shouted after reaching the shore?”

James, keeping the rear as usual, had stopped to appreciate a particularly intriguing stone. How it differed from any other stone, only his keen eye could tell. But, he would never miss an opportunity to correct his colleagues. “As usual, you’re both wrong. This is actually known as Fawkyoo Island, named in seventeen o’...”

And the pointless bickering continued.

Words: 402
Total: 15 655 / 13 500

The warrior’s sharp gaze soon spotted the tracks on the sand. Her attention drifted back onto the soldier loudly lamenting the careless mistake. Some small, petty part of her found it... entertaining. She quickly banished the thought, ashamed of herself. A samurai did not let such frivolous emotions poison their thoughts...

Soon enough, the self-proclaimed samurai opened her mouth. “Thou were so busy drowning that thou failed to notice thy sheep wandering off to the wilderness.” She explained in a very clear and not at all cryptic Wano manner.

Yet, the turtle was still slow on the uptake.

The weasel’s stare narrowed. A snarky comment was already dripping onto her tongue, like venom. Again, she had to stop and restrain herself. Letting lingering resentment cloud her judgment... Shameful! Steel did not feel. Instead, she lifted a finger and pointed at the tracks. “‘Tis no riddle.”

Leaping down from the ship, the hunter joined the chase. She dropped onto all fours and sniffed the trail carefully. Morning coffee, shaving cream and questionable bathing habits... Yes, it was the unmistakable smell of three middle-aged men.

Yumiko scampered along silently, following the instincts of her animal side.

---

Shortly after the tracker duo left, a small fishing boat drifted ashore. A white armor gleamed in the sun. Behind a dark visor, a keen gaze found the fresh set of footprints...

---

Meanwhile, Jeremy had led his good colleagues to the destination, the mouth of a small cave. ...And he was being very smug about it. “Here we are. I told you I’d find it.” He puffed his chest and brushed his jacket, reminiscent of a peacock spreading its feathers.

As always, James was ready to bring a needle to his colleague’s ballooning ego. “Even a blind squirrel finds a nut every once in a while.” He mused idly.

“Shut it, James.”

Richard, on the other hand, peered at the cave. “How are you so sure this is the place?”

The self-appointed leader of the group pointed at a sign leaning against the wall by the entrance. “Because I can read.” It looked hastily cobbled together from loose planks. Whoever made it was obviously no carpenter.

[SECRET TRAITOR REVOLUTIONARY HIDEOUT]
[Now recruiting!]

It declared in dripping fresh red pain.

After a brief pause, the short man shrugged. “Oh. Well, that’s convenient.” He saw no issues with this and neither did his friends.

As the trio headed inside, the slowest of the group wandered off to yet another tangent. “Personally, I prefer the term ‘Freedom Fighter’. You see, it doesn’t carry the same negative connotations as...” His colleagues ignored the rambling.

Words: 434
Total: 16 089 / 13 500

In the dancing candlelight, the shadows sprung to life. A team of sharp-dressed men had the trio surrounded. They were armed with nothing but nets, shackles and their own bodies. Not a good sign in a world full of weapons and violence.

As one had walked into an ambush and another got captured, only the third remained unmoving. Unfulfilled. But, there was still time...

Beneath the annoyed surface, James was bubbling. Boiling. Vivid flashes burst from each imaginary bubble. Memories resurfacing. Voices speaking. The words swirled inside his skull... And, frankly, they had some pretty good ideas for a change.

Suddenly, an impatient agent charged. Hand drawn back, the foe aimed what looked like a poke. Yet, the seemingly slow man only spoke a single word. “Tekkai.” The piercing finger meant for his gut cracked and bent in the worst ways.

While the foe was busy clutching his hand and gasping, the old man sauntered over to him. “You disappoint me, Ramsay.” His tone had turned eerily calm, almost fatherly.

In tears and disbelief, the agent stared at the nut job. “Who the hell is Rams-AAAAGH?!” His question was cut short by a shigan. A proper shigan. Marineford made. None of that Enies Lobby cock. They didn’t make ‘em like they used to nowadays.

This certainly got everyone’s attention.

Despite getting circled by the agents, the tactician didn’t seem worried. Rather, he rambled beneath his breath. “All the things I could be doing today that I would rather do, which include self-harm...” It was utter nonsense. All of it. “Sixty thirty nine... What does that mean?” As if he was speaking with someone who wasn’t present.

Suddenly, there was a spark of life in the old man’s gaze. He turned his attention to the nearest foe, a young bloke probably fresh out of training. “Cheese.”

“Wha-?”

Another scream echoed through the cave.

Meanwhile, the cavalry was on its way.

However, the samurai’s attention was elsewhere. She stared down the beach behind them, at an approaching silhouette. The glint of sunlight against that white armor made her shiver. Still, she stubbornly stood her ground.

The warrior didn’t even need to consider. Her instincts were whispering in her ear... And she agreed. Without looking back, she stepped between the revolutionary and the approaching hunter. “Go, save thy comrades. I shall keep thy path of escape clear.” With a dramatic sweep, she ushered the woman along.

“Go!”

As the Stick caught up, he passed a silent glance at the revolutionary... And the cave ahead... Before focusing his attention onto the samurai. In his usual, talkative fashion, he said nothing at all.

Yumiko measured her foe with her gaze. “I had a feeling thou would show up rather soon, brave hunter.” It was odd... She no longer felt like she was standing before a mountain, a dragon or a warship. All she saw was a man more dangerous than any of those... But still a man, nonetheless.

Slowly, the samurai’s hand sought the grip of her sword. “‘Tis strange... I am shivering... Yet, I feel not a shred of fear.” Lowering her stance, she savored a deep breath. In... Out... “Mine heart and blade, they... sing.” And so did she. The melody and the lyrics flowed from somewhere deep within.

“I’ve come here from nowhere,
across the unforgiving sea~
Drifting further and further,
it’s all becoming clear to me~”

In a blink of an eye, the two warriors closed the distance. Steel stopped steel. Sparks flashed. The sheer force of the impact painted ripples in the sand. Evenly matched, neither side gave an inch.

Words: 600
Total: 16 689 / 13 500

Whirling winds howled. Metal rumbled like thunder. Sparks cascaded like lightning. The warriors traded blows with ever growing ferocity. Fists against blades should have been a short and simple fight, but in this world skill and strength could bridge any gap.

And it wasn’t the masked bounty hunter who was on the back foot...

It felt like trying to chisel down a mountain. Each slash left a mark so minuscule it was invisible from a distance. Yet, something about that thought excited the swordswoman. This was her challenge, her mountain to bring down.

Lost in the trance, Yumiko didn’t quite realize that she was still singing, ever louder. Her voice carried far across the island. The lyrics bubbled like water from a spring.

“The violent winds are upon us,
and I can't sleep~
Internal temperatures rising,
and all the voices won't recede~!”

A violent haymaker pierced the defenses, putting a pause on the song. The sheer shock wave tore the swordwoman’s kimono to shreds and sent her skidding backwards a good distance. Coughing crimson, she stubbornly stayed on her feet.

Yet, even as the armored juggernaut marched towards the wounded warrior, she smiled. Hm, no, that wasn’t exactly accurate. Rather, a predatory grin full of teeth spread across her pale features. She was dancing on the brink of death...

And she had never felt more alive.

Back in the cave, the dynamic trio was making the cave echo with their bickering. Agents surrounded them from all sides, armed with techniques that made each of them a living weapon. They were relentless in their assault.

Soon, however, the haunting, distorted song with all its percussion drifting in the rising winds reached the cave as well. Some of the agents glanced towards the racket. Those with sharper senses felt an involuntary shudder run down their spine, the kind you got when hearing the snarling of a rabid animal. Someone quietly wondered what was making all that noise.

One of the sharp-dressed men cast a squint towards the approaching sounds of violence. “That...” He hesitated only briefly, before ironclad professionalism steeled his features. “...is not our priority right now.” His gaze turned back onto the Revolutionary and the three traitors. One mess at a time, that was his motto.

Words: 376
Total: 17 065 / 13 500

Lost in the adrenaline trance, the warrior found herself locked up in the fiercest battle of her life once more. She was staring up at a gigantic dragon... Squeezed into the frame of an armored hunter. Her entire body was burning and screaming under the fierce assault.

And yet...

Despite everything, the warrior was matching the fatal foe blow for blow. Her mind was clear with purpose. Not honor, not justice, not even bushido... No, she fought for this exact feeling, this intoxicating freedom. And she sang her heart out.

“I've finally found what I was looking fooor~!
A place where I can be without remooorse~!
Because I am a stranger who has found an even stranger war~!
And for all my life, this is what I was looking for~!”

The song sharpened the samurai’s focus to its utmost edge. Pitch-black power crawled along her blade. Painting a flash of steel across the air, she swung her blade upwards with all the fury behind it. The wind answered, exploding into a massive tornado.

At last, the armored foe was pushed back. He crossed his arms, straining against the strike, but... It wasn’t enough. In a shower of sparks and blood, the slash knocked his arms away and carved a deep wound across his chest. The tornado launched him high into the air. Higher and higher... Until he pierced the clouds in the distant horizon.

Yumiko slowly sheathed her sword. It was a meticulous motion. She savored the sensation of the blade sliding against the scabbard. As the winds around her died, the song turned quiet and somber.

“I've finally found what I was looking for...
A place where I can be without remorse...
Because I am a stranger who fell in love with even stranger pain...
And for all my life... A stranger I shall remain...”

As the sword found its place with a soft click, the samurai nearly toppled over. Her chest heaved with ragged breaths. Bruises and wounds marred her pale skin. Her clothing was dirty and tattered... But her spirit had never felt stronger.

Gazing wistfully in the distance, the warrior muttered mostly to herself. “Fare thee well, brave hunter. May thou find what thou are looking for.” It was the sincere thought behind it more than the words themselves. She glanced over her shoulder towards a nearby cave where commotion was taking place.

“This one just thinks it was never here...”

Words: 405
Total: 17 470 / 13 500

-Kaboom!-

An echoing explosion shattered Yumiko’s focus. She could only watch in shock, horror and admittedly mild awe, as three plus two shadows came flying from the cave. They were getting pretty close. ...Oh, they were getting real clo-

-Thump-

After the puff of sand dissipated, the group collected their wits one by one. The general consensus was one of pain and annoyance. ...Something of a running theme for the group.

Ever the optimist, Jeremy shrugged. “Still, could be worse.” He gestured at the now blocked cave. “At least we’re not stuck in there.” His sharper colleague, meanwhile, cast a knowing glance downwards. “Yes, or stuck under you.” Ever the snarker, he pointed at the sand.

Buried in the sand, beneath the orangutan’s generous behind, was a bruised bundle of foreign clothing and dark hair. From the bundle crawled a weak and dizzy groan. “Would thou mind... removing thy behind... from mine back...?”

Fortunately, the tactical genius was quick to see the issue and devise an appropriate response. “Oh, sorry, didn’t see you there, let me just...” Hoisting himself up and aside wasn’t quite as quick or nimble... But he was a thinker, not a dancer.

Yumiko coughed out a clump of sand. Carefully she tried to find her legs again. Now that the adrenaline was wearing off, the fatigue was hitting like a landslide. Her every muscle ached and every joint cried.

Focusing on the present, the former marines came together to strategize. James was quick to point out the grim reality of the situation. “So, we are exhausted, hunted, and ran out of budget two crashes ago. What else is new?”

Jeremy held up a finger. “That aside, we now have a brilliant tactical advantage.”

Richard quirked a curious brow. “We do?” He must’ve missed a memo.

“Yes.”

The older man, however, wasn’t quite convinced. “Might I remind you, since you clearly have forgotten, that we still don’t know where to go.”

“Exactly. And if we don’t know where we are going, those agents can’t predict our next move.” He tapped his forehead with a cheeky look.

There was a brief pause. Just a beat. “Oh, there’s a rosy future for us all, isn’t there?”

“Shut it, Hammond.”

While the trio bickered, the white-clad revolutionary cast a glance at the two women. “I’ll take it from here.” He didn’t even try to hide his obvious disdain. “You damsels can go do... Whatever it is you do when you’re not busy getting into distress.” His dismissive hand was already shooing them away.

“Or better yet, make yourselves useful and act as a distraction.”

Yumiko rubbed her head, trying to massage the dizziness away. “Damsels? Distress? Distraction?” She was completely lost on this plan.

Words: 454
Total: 17 924 / 13 500

Unfortunately, Yumiko had to go without answers. As the three tacticians and their new helper headed into the sunset, she was quite content to just leave them be. She had done her duty and repaid her debt. Nothing more, nothing less.

However, fate had other plans. Before the samurai could take her leave, the revolutionary snatched her by the hand. She didn’t understand a thing about the internal politics at play here. All she understood was that these revolutionaries were crazy.

Surrendering to the relentless grip, the warrior let herself be dragged back into the winds of the world... Back to a complicated and stormy life... Until she found what she was looking for again.

---

Meanwhile, far away, a gnarly ship covered in barnacles sailed the blue waves. A huge winch hissed and coughed, as it pulled a chain from the depths. At the end of the chain was a serpentine sea king, bloodied by countless spears.

With a huff and a thump, an enormous man shaped like a wine cask and dressed like an overflowing dumpster landed onto the deck. His brine-soaked beard was decorated with living barnacles. He wrenched the sea king free with frightening ease.

[npc=pirt]“Yargh, another good haul! We be eating good tonight, boyos!”[/npc]

While a mismatched crew went to work on the fish, something metallic fell from its open maw. A muscular man encased in a white armor laid stiffly on the deck, arms folded firmly. He had a weeping wound across his chest.

Curiously, the crew gathered around the mysterious figure. Someone suggested he was dead, only to be called an idiot. Obviously this dude was dead, just look at that wound. Another scratched his head, mumbling how the stranger seemed... familiar. And someone quietly wondered what that ticking sound was...? Sounded like... A pocket watch?

While the men bickered, the supposedly dead man suddenly sat upright. Startled gasps surrounded him and he ignored them. Without saying a word, he reached underneath his armor and pulled out a stack of soaked bounty posters.

It was at this moment that the imaginary lantern lit up above someone’s head. “Oh, now I remember! Some say that he reads upside down and that he enjoys tea externally. All we know is, he’s called The Stick.” He explained, much to the growing confusion of his allies.

The enormous man lumbered closer. [npc=pirt]“The Stick, eh? Bloody stupid name, innit?”[/npc] Hoisting an anchor over his shoulder, he puffed his chest. [npc=pirt]“I am Captain Barnaclebeard!”[/npc] His boisterous declaration... Got no response.

Instead, the armored man studied the posters. First, there was the poster of Rias ‘Funbags’ Keko... The unseen gaze wandered down, down... And stopped on the number beneath the name.

[npc=pirt]“-I will kill ye so hard ye’ll die to death-”[/npc]

Silently, the hunter leafed through posters, until...

[npc=pirt]“-tickle yer tonsils with me blade-”[/npc]

...He found one labeled Shaun ‘Barnaclebeard’ Hart.

[npc=pirt]“-Ye’ll have a little bit of Captain in ye-”[/npc]

Again, the hidden gaze focused on the number beneath the name. Briefly, he shifted his attention between the posters. After some pondering, the poster of ‘Funbags’ was unceremoniously crumpled up and tossed over his shoulder.

By now, the ranting captain had finally noticed something. [npc=pirt]“...He’s not listening, is he?”[/npc] His crew had noticed the same thing. “Doesn’t seem like it, Cap.” Refusing to be ignored, he charged with a mighty roar. His crew followed the lead. Well, the captain got his wish...

Finally, the armored man looked right at him.

Few days later, the sun was shining on a tiny school at the edge of Spider Miles. An armored figure sat on the porch steps. He was leafing through the day’s paper. The headline declared:

,,¡ƃuᴉssᴉɯ llᴉʇs sɹoʇɔǝɟǝp ǝǝɹɥ┴ - sɹoʇᴉɐɹ┴ lɐɔᴉʇɔɐ┴,,

The door opened. A young, bespectacled lady in a modest teacher’s attire stepped out with a tea tray. Two cups, biscuits, a bowl of sugar... The whole lot.  [npc=misc]“Sorry for making you wait.”[/npc] Her smile was as warm as the afternoon sun.

Sitting beside the man, the lady set the tray down. [npc=misc]“I don’t know what we would do without you.”[/npc] Her gaze wandered onto a group of kids playing ball on the yard. [npc=misc]“Your generosity gives all of them a brighter future.”[/npc] Shyly, she offered a cup of tea, fresh and piping hot.

[npc=misc]“Mister Stick, from the bottom of my heart, thank you.”[/npc]

The Stick, suave as always, said nothing. Instead, he graciously accepted the steaming hot cup, brought it up to his helmet... And proceeded to pour it right into his lap. Enjoying his tea break, he went back to reading the paper... Back to a silent and simple life... Until someone out there needed him again.

Words: 779
Total: 18 703 / 13 500