Gold Marlins and Silver Linings

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Salt picked up in the flood of air pouring through the small hamlet. The darkening of the skies on the edge of the levies barricading the port of Nanohana told the future of the season. Tsunamis would break against the shore and only the foolhardy would move into the boarded up and derelict district.

“Any wise man will tell you, there is always opportunity in adversity!” The slender figure of a man, with a pointed goatee and eyes as green as the dark oceans, stood upon a stack of crates.
“And if you don’t see an opportunity in those clouds then--”

“Move it buddy; these crates aren’t moving themselves.” The hustle of the city brought a flow of workers to attach a line to hoist the crates to a safer part of the city.

“Well, maybe I can’t see wisdom here…” Using the bridge of his hand to shade his eyes from the sun, the deranged man began to survey the passing crowd. “Perhaps I need to see what wise men have answered the call of the wild, the call of adventure, the call…”

“Move it or I’ll call the city guard!”

Waves broke along the levies, tiny puddles of water collected in the small conclaves. A reflection of a man appeared for a moment, just before another wave broke against the barrier. His face wore the experience of age but none of the scars. The only blemish lay behind the patch covering his left eye, but the puddle on the seawall could only show his face.

Tugging at his back, the strap of a scabbard hung against the shoulder blade of his back. Between his fingers he lined a hook. Gently he pulled the string through the eye at the base of the hook, intertwining the tiny fibers with a knot to keep it resilient. “Two more days.” No one could hear the words, but no one needed to. He had all the company he needed.

“Hey partner!” Before the lone fisherman swordsman could finish his line, the man from the crates busted his way onto the seawall. “Names Pious Pioneer, friends call me Pi.”

“So most people call you Pious I presume?” The stoic man kept to his work against the turmoil surrounding him on both sides.

“That’s a good one.” Pointing his finger as though he figuratively followed the joke through the air, Pious kept moving in his work. “You here for the fishing tournament?”

“I came to claim the prize.” His voice rose in joy a little as the knot finished. “I’m something of a treasure hunter you see.”

“Well I’m glad as hell to meet you Mr…” Pi thought for a moment. What did he say his name was again?

“I didn’t tell you my name.” The unnamed, one-eyed man rose to his feet.

“Are you waiting for something?” Withholding information seemed odd to Pi. “Someone? Someday?”

“Yes.”

Pragmatic Panda and the Pyrotechnic Pinata travelled the world. Why? Because, with a name like Pragmatic Panda and Pyrotechnic Pinata you don’t build consumer confidence in a commodities market. Standing only five feet and looking like he needed stones to withstand a strong wind, the man calling himself Panda led the duo from the dock. “Of course we’ll get this contest. When we show up with no fishing poles, they’ll think it’s going to be a cruise down the Grand Line.” Keeping his overdone stride moving at pace with his much taller, much larger friend, the Panda gazed at the waves. “That’s when we set it off.”

Rubbing his belly with a big grin across his face, Pinata couldn’t help but feel some pride in his part of the plan. “I got it taken care of.” In time he just might.

“Well you’re a big one.” Upon arriving to the seawall, Pi wasted no time in welcoming the Panda and the Pinata. “And you brought your son to work.”

“I’m older than him by five years.” The panda spat through his teeth. “Now when does this thing start?”

“We’re still waiting on two more people. We can’t start until we have at least six, because six is my lucky number.” Holding up three fingers on his left hand and slowly bringing up three on the other, Pi continued to press his conversation against the two newcomers whom clearly looked at odds with the man acting as the master of ceremonies for this event. “It’s twice what three is you know.”

Harsh winds and dark skies came over Crimson’s homeland. Overlooking the docks cloaked in a hooded robe over her lighter outfit, Crimson found it easy to spot the loony man whom came by her shop a few days earlier to ask for a number of fishing hooks to be made for him. His less than tight lips let enough information slip to peak her interest.

“So what’s this about a fishing contest?” Wind tossed the flaps of her robe against her pale face. Her dark red hair fell out of file under the hat nestled under the hood and stayed caught up in the stormy winds.

Feeling a disturbance coming from the newcomer, Pi tried his best to pass a diversion. “There’s no fishing contest here.” Wrapping his arm around Panda’s shoulder, he patted the small man on the chest. “Just some friends on a wall watching the waves.”

A fist rose like a lever being pulled into the upward position. Panda locked his gaze on Crimson while Pinata stepped in to talk with her. “I’m not his friend, and yes, this is a fishing contest. You know the rules?”

“Catch the biggest fish and win.” She kept her eyes focused in between the duo. Surveying the man who stayed away from the action, several yards away from everything.

Pi flailed back to life. “Why would I run such a trivial contest!?” Water erupted from the puddles as Pi jumped up and down along the wall. “Catch the biggest fish! We’re here to find the elusive gold scaled marlin.”

Wanting to see the man collapse from shock, Crimson decided to push him a little. “Doesn’t sound so hard.”

Pi collapsed.

Panda smiled slyly. “I like your style. What says you stay out of our way, and we don’t let this get personal?”

Now she moved her hand a little close to the blade hidden beneath her cloak. “Threats sound pretty personal to me.”

Pinata liked where this was heading. “Sometimes they’re warnings.” The foolish girl would try to push a little too far and give them just what he wanted.

“Enough.” Finally returning from his moments of silence, the man with the eye patch made his presence known to the group. “If the local wants to fish, so be it…” Pi regained composure just to go limp and collapse. “The marlin will approach soon and I don’t want the likes of you scaring it back into the deep.”

Relaxing from the threat of violence, Crimson backed down and pulled the string from her pocket. Dangling from the line hung a silver fish hook. “I wouldn’t want to keep it waiting.”

“Hey!” Realizing he would be competing against the very person who made his hooks, Pi took great offense to the continued presence Crimson brought to the wall. “No fair using silver hooks! I’m going to use them and I’m special!”

Turning his back to the crowd, the mysterious man walked away. “Use them all you want.” His voice sounded double edged. “Fish can detect silver and won’t go near it.”

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[/color] Garet awkwardly gave a salute before going back to the crew quarters to clean the damn sweat from himself. Even after four years in the Marines Garet just couldn't deal with heat, his home was on the cold end of temperate and full of trees, Alabasta was just sand, sand, more sand and way too much damn heat.

Loosening his tie, rolling up his sleeves and unbuttoning his shirt a bit, Garet walked off the gangplank down onto the pier before bending down and pouring some water from a flask over his head.

It was at that point he promptly hit the decking of the pier, growling snores letting those around him know he was merely asleep. Many of his fellow marines rolling their eyes, having already gotten used to his infamously sleepy-headed nature. After a short while, a splash of seawater shocked the bear-man awake.

"Gah...never gonna get used to this place".

Why couldn't they have restocked at Drum island or something? He could deal with cold pretty easily, but heat just never agreed with him even as a child. All in all, Garet couldn't wait for those damn clouds to get start covering the town and bring some blessed cool air with them, he didn't care that they were going to bring storms with them either, he could deal with a storm.

Giving a quick yawn and a stretch, Garet walked off of the pier and started walking about town, his size causing many to walk out of the way or take amused glances at how poorly he was dealing with the temperature although the amused part may have been to do with him sleep-walking half the time.

"Oh well, may as well see if there's something to keep me occupied for a while...hopefully nothing that needs too much effort".

When the weather changed from hot to actually bearable, Garet had already fallen in and out of sleep nearly seventy-three time already, causing quite a bit of fuss in the cafe he stayed in and the markets he visited.

While he was walking back up to his ship's mooring however, he heard some crazy man talking about adventure or some-such. Garet was about to just leave and head back to the ships' crew quarters when he heard some shady-looking man talk about some kind of fishing contest with some red-haired girl.

Giving a lazy shrug, Garet walked up the gangplank and into his quarters, rooting around his personal belongings before pulling out a disassembled fishing rod, one made big enough for someone like him to use.

With how little there was to do at sea when you weren't shoving things around or fighting, you found your own fun and fishing was just the right kind of activity for the laziest bear in the Marines to enjoy from time to time.

Ignoring the questions of his fellow Marines, Garet walked off the gangplank and lazily strolled up to the man who seemed to be running the tournament. Something in Garet's gut was telling him something was up and he wasn't about to just let whatever was gonna happen, happen.

Plus, he liked to fish, wasn't all that good at it, but hey.

"You the guy runnin' this little tourney? If so, colour me interested"[/ul]

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The wind started to pick up. What little light remained of the blocked out sun faded in the stature of the large man standing over Crimson. Before turning around Crimson looked at the gazes of the duo and Pi, seemed easy enough to assume something amazing stood behind her. She grinded her teeth quickly twice and then turned around to stare directly into the belly of a bear of a man. “It’s going to take a big brush to do that.” She spoke far from the man’s ear.

With the arrival of another contestant, Pi grew so excited he almost fainted—at least it appeared he almost fainted for that reason. “Oh my, we have some competition this year. Perhaps that means I can actually get something this—”

Before he could mutter out the last of his sentence, the man calling himself Panda stepped forward to size up Garet, shoving Crimson to the side. Taking offense to the rude shove, Crimson felt no other method other than recourse, but found herself assailed from behind by the much larger Piñata. Panda pressed his finger into Garet’s chest to try and intimidate the new comer as he tried with Crimson. “I’m going to say this for your own good, stay out of this and no one gets hurt.”

Crimson tried to free her arms from the gargantuan bear hug the Piñata placed on her by slamming her feet into his thighs. She pressed down as hard as her force could get and felt her cloak begin to slide up as she slid down. She threw her weight around swiftly to try and kick out his leg, but her force and his weight did not come close to fighting in the same weight class. Feeling the pain of defeat, Crimson grabbed her aching leg, pulling her hand from cupping her hat.

Without her cloak against her head, the harsh winds stole her hat and slammed it violently against Panda’s head, breaking the hidden compartment Crimson kept for dire emergencies. The cinnamon burst and seeped into Panda’s eyes, causing his lackluster bravado to fall into a state of wild panic. His erratic movement sent him back and forth around the pier with his hands grasping at his eyes for dear life.

During the confusion and tragedy, Pi patted his cheeks repeatedly as a nervous sign. “What to do, what to do?” He paced with purpose. Truly this event would not be ruined by the strange duo. He needed what the marlin stole from him all those years ago, but how would he get it back if these men, who brought no fishing poles, chased away all of his competitors. And the silversmith. She must know something to come in and try to disrupt his activity with such wild action, well it was enough to make him scream. “Enough!” Chunks of hair laid in the palms of his hands. “I now deem the Greatest Fishing Tournament to order!” He really had nothing to say. He thought he did when he called it to order, but it slipped his mind.

A few moments passed. “I call this Tournament open!” It was all he really needed to say. Everything else, including this line, were completely redundant.

Piñata wanted revenge for what little Crimson did to him. He lifted his leg to squash her; the estranged fishermen set his gaze on him, beginning to draw his blade. Before any excitement could partake on or around Crimson, the man who took the title ‘Pragmatic’ showed something of it to his companion. “Forget her.” He dragged the Piñata away. “For now.”

Lifting herself off of the ground Crimson brushed the dirt off of her red harem pants before turning back to the see Pi already along the rocks, casting off his lure. “Where’d my hat runoff to?” Heeding very little attention to the beastly man who came close to flattening her to a size negative ten, Crimson turned her senses to smelling the powerful aroma of cinnamon. Most of the air sat stagnant with the beckoning storm sitting just off the horizon, but Crimson developed a good nose for her signature spice.

She loosened the taut fishing line from her pole. She readied herself to let it go to snare her hat back when she saw it pressed against the chest of Garet. “I need my hat back to pull off my outfit.” While her cowgirl hat hardly could justify its existence in her traditional Alabastan regalia, the harsh weather made it a necessity for her. “And you seem like you’re winning the contest for who I don’t hate out of this group so far. I’m Crimson. It’s not my real name, but I can’t remember what it is—or you, have we met?” She questioned out of necessity. “Well if we have met maybe you can tell me something about yourself to remind me of where, or if you could tell me a little about myself I would definitely appreciate it.”

Interrupting what he felt needed to be interrupted, the lone man stepped in. “I was pulling for you against that dumb ogre, but now I’m not so sure. Maybe the one with the size issues shouldn’t have stopped him.” He cast out his line into the sea, his line attached to the end of his sword sheath.

Crimson went back to grinding her teeth while picking up her conversation with Garet. “Did I mention you were winning the ‘who I hate least contest’?”

While Crimson conversed with Garet, the company of Panda and Piñata went to work along the jetties. Panda smiled as Piñata began to pull a fuse out from his belly button.

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"Hm, who needs a big brush?" Garet's lazy voice rumbled from him like a growling bear, though it only held amusement.

Garet gave a lazy smirk at his comment, brushing the implication of his stature aside with ease. He was more than used to people remarking about his size, but constantly hearing it got rather funny if you didn't let it get to you. He didn't even really mind people bumping into him, it wasn't as though it would hurt him.

'And if that's not the weirdest damn reaction I've seen in a long time...' Garet thought to himself, that reaction being about the most enthusiastic he had ever seen towards a smalll fishing competition. By now Garet was at least certain the crazy guy had what might resemble a plot or something behind all this.

When he felt one of the shady men start to size him up that Garet merely allowed his smirk to turn into a small, sleepy smile, raising his hand part way to give a small wave. He wasn't all that intimidated, he'd seen way more intimidating things even in his relatively short life. The guy seemingly having a fit was definitely the highlight of his day, Garet certainly never saw someone get so worked up over fishing before.

Sadly for those around him, Garet rather quickly dozed off after that, obliviously snoozing away despite the shouting of that crazy guy, only waking up once he felt an object slam into his chest. Opening his eyes he saw the red haired girl take the hat from his chest.

She seemed, eager, a little all over the place, but Garet supposed it would probably have something to do with the implied amnesia she suffered from.

Garet let his lazy grin light up his face, eyes half-lidded but attentive to her words." 'Course you do, nothin' quite sells the harem look then a ten gallon". At the mention of a 'most liked' contest, the lazy bear-man let out a soft growling chuckle. " Grrhehehehehe, well good to know I'm a likable guy I suppose ma'am ".

He was a little surprised when she asked if he knew her but shrugged a shoulder at the comment. "Sorry ma'am, I don't, first time I've been to Al'basta m'self". Letting out a yawn, Garet stretched out his long limbs and set himself down on the edge of the pier, putting together his fishing rod with practiced fingers before casting off.

"So what's your name then? don't wanna have to call you ma'am for however long that crazy guy is planning this little competition". Pushing his half spectacle back up his nose a bit, Garet gave a half-asleep almost bow with his head "I m'self am Garet T. Williams, Marine Seaman, currently...". Another yawn this time, fishing always made him even sleepier than he usually was. " ...Currently between postings at the moment".

It wasn't long after hearing the young lady's own introduction that Garet would fall asleep only to wake up again shortly after. But such was life for the young grey haired man.

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The calm in the air sank into a low, foreboding silence. "Well Garet T. Williams, seaman extraordinaire and keeper of maritime peace, I Amelie the Crimson, welcome you to Alabasta." Giving a playful bow, Crimson tucked her leg behind her knee to lower herself and opening her arms, presenting the bottom of her hat to the gargantuan stature. “Did your crew come to help prepare for the storm, or are you just lucking enough to be here when a tsunami hits shore?” She could pull her hat up to her head now, but with the disruptive gusts breaking through the air, she sided on keeping it in her hand for the time being. “Sorry if you don’t like the smell of cinnamon I just plagued you with. It livens up a smithy, but some people can find it overbearing.” The vacant emergency compartment called her attention. “Especially in large, unexpected doses.”

Before the storm threatened to make landfall, the weather around Alabasta stayed at a constant boiling point. Many locals who rode out these storms before welcomed the ravaging winds because at the least they could be saved the all encompassing excruciating heat of the Alabasta climate. In fact, the economy of some merchants could not wait for the storm season to make its way here. Ponchos, umbrellas, and boots made of rubber always came into high demand and no one wanted to be without—partially because merchants told everyone those exact words, but money does not lie.

“You’re not Alabastan.” The rough fisherman waved his hand to clear the air of the floating remnants of cinnamon in the air. “Where are you actually from? Or, maybe a few too many blows to the head knocked those thoughts from your head.”

“It was one knock to the head-- and I am Alabastan.” Crossing her arms in defense of her nationality, but eluding the fact of her birth, Crimson tried to look off the staggeringly insightful fisherman. “Ask the census bureau.” She had a point.

“Being a part of a people comes from the rich culture and history passed down from generations. Sure you live here…” Still smelling the overwhelming aroma of the concentrated cinnamon, he stabbed at one of her jobs. “And pay taxes for the cinnamon you sell from your cart…”

“Silversmith, cretin.” Her look soured and turned to the incoming clouds.

“Or your silver goods.” Condescension rang from his hollow correction. “But even though you live among the people, you will never actually be one of them. You are a transplant, a foreign germ in their body. ”All the while he spoke he kept his grimacing smile at a cross with a large gash over his cheek. “Sure they amend to your existence now, but soon they will discover they can do without you, and when they do, they will do away with you like a blow to the head did away with your memory.”

Whatever game this guy wanted to play, Crimson felt she did not have the pieces for. Birthright and nationalism linking to her loss of memory made a leap only bird could fly. “Was that whole thing just a way to remind me I hit my head?”

“Yes.” His admission floored Crimson with both the boldness and audacity from which it came.

Bulging at the sockets, Crimson’s eyes almost shot out of her head and towards the rude man. “Garet T Willaims, Master of the Longitude and Lord of the Latitude, if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to…” She couldn’t think of a lie. “Literally anywhere else.” She could think of one, she just wanted to insult the man before she did.

“Stay away from the jetties.” He called out to her. “You aren’t ready for it.”

As the skies darkened so did the minds of the man left alone with the now napping marine. “I couldn’t have picked a better day for such a fine beckoning. The wind to my face. The skies blotting out the sun. It’s quite lovely when you just stand and take it all in.” Much to his claim, the rather cool air felt very unlike the regular Alabastan climate. A number of merchants would only step foot in the city during this season, a little rain over the blistering heat.

Waves bombarded the rocks lining stretching out from the beach. Puddles splashed under the weight of Crimson’s clog as she stepped over some of the larger rocks. She carefully placed her weight against the inside of the rock to keep herself from slipping off of and into the ocean below. Debris from the ocean gave Pi a tough time pulling his small boat out to the shore. She could only try and guess how he would get it past the breaker or how he would keep the waves from bringing him in, but she continued in her path.

Halfway through the rocky path she saw the duo standing thirty yards in front of her, fiddling with something. Whatever they planned, she knew no good could come from it, but did not know if it warranted her intervention. A few more steps and she could make out not just a fuse, but Pinata striking a match. Through dubious manners the duo would attempt to steal whatever contest Pi held. Numbing winds pushed against her and extinguished Pinata’s match. What little time she could use would do her favors—or so she believed.

Ushering the blade from the sheath took a quick upward flick of her wrist. The blade moved with a purpose to sever the fuse sticking out from Panda’s belly button. “Am I interrupting?” An angry wind picked up while Crimson held her crouched pose. Gathering her hat in its grasp, the wind carried stole her hat like a magpie, and reacting in a split second, Crimson quickly turned to find it. Along with her attention, the blade in her hand also shifted, and the wakizashi cut into Pinata’s leg.

“AAAAGGGGHHHH!” Pinata bounced off of the rocks and into the ocean at Crimson’s mistake. Diveritng her attention yet again, Crimson caught the form of the wet Pinata before she tried to find her hat again.

“No.” Panda said standing over her. “You aren’t interrupting anything…” His hand stuck into his belly button, where he pulled out more of the fuse Crimson so valiantly severed. “We still have more than enough fuse.”

"Oh!" Pi exclaimed with a joy he had not shown since the participants arrived. "Here it is!" Giddy, he jumped up and down with his feet slapping against his bottom. "Here it is!" Brandishing a golden fin from beneath the waves, the long snout of a marlin appeared. Rubies and garnets adorned the long horn of the fish until it came into more clear sight. The horn of the fish was none other than an ornate sword from an imperial governor, long lost to the sea, but somehow made its way to become a permanent fixture for a marine animal. "This year it finally comes to me! Finally." Just as his excitement reached fever pitch, a strain of blood began to move around his one person boat.