Will The Circle Be Unbroken [Mission# 54]

[Blaka]

Kulira Cheteria Akuvutika woke up. The sun was standing high in the air already, evident by the fact that it was hurting her even through closed eyelids. She was lying on her back, on a hard surface, likely wood. This surface was rocking her back and forth, like a baby's craddle. It took a moment before she remembered where she was. A boat.

After the falling out with her former roomate, the young woman had managed to escape Micqueot by sneaking on board of a ferry. Of course, she was discovered eventually, but by that time the ship had already left the North Blue. They had thrown her overboard, as was custom with stowaways. Luckily, a fisherman had discovered her and had allowed her to take a ride back to his home island. All that was yesterday. Now she was here, still on the boat.

Opening her eyes, Lila was blinded by the high up noon sun. Cringing, she held her hand up to block the sun until her eyes would get used to the sudden light.
"Ah, you're awake!" The gentleman that had fished her out of the water was a skinny, middleaged guy with long blue hair hanging down to his chest. "Had a good sleep, miss?"
He was sitting at the bow of the little boat, looking at the island in the distance, most of his clothes thrown casually over his shoulder. The South Blue sun could get a little warm, so that fact wasn't surprising at all. Chete too had gotten rid of her shirt yesterday to use it as at least some sort of pillow. Now she was only wearing her mouse gray fur boots and, tucked into them, skintight black jeans. Fortunately, her upper body up to the chest was still covered by bandages, as always.
"Sure..." she mumbled. Absentminded, the lass with the curly hair sat up straight,  grabbed the guitarcase next to her and opened it.
"Not much of a talker, are ya?", laughed her company.
"No...not really..."
She opened the case. Inside, she found what her subconciouss was looking for: A pack of cigarettes and a lighter. Without paying any attention to the clearly amused fisherman, closed the case again, put a cigarette in her mouth, lit it and inhaled slowly.
"Those will kill you, you know!", kid the boat owner.
That earned him a gaze through the thicket of blonde hair. Kulira's eyes were of such intensity, that the ice-blue could still sting even with the curtain of blonde in front of them.
"If it's tobacco that gets you, lucky you." responded the smoker with a deadpan face before looking at the sun and blowing a long thin stream of smoke in its direction.
"Huuuuh!" The fisherman jokingly shuddered, then shrugged "I guess you're right.", he grinned "I'm counting on the storms to do that job."
 
Awkward silence ensued for a minute or two, only interrupted by the noise of the gentle waves and Lila's occasional in- and exhaling. Finally, the male raised his voice again.
"We are almost there, see the beach back there? That's Yeste, my home."
"I see it..." Done, the smoking lady flicked the leftover stub over board.
Conversation. How she hated conversation! Completely useless babble at that! Of course she could see the island, what else was there to see!?
Opening her case again, she turned her back to her fellow passenger, put the smokes back in and took the lid of a small red plastic box with the words "Bodypaint" printed on it.
"Ahem...you're a musician, right?"
Apparently her helper was hellbent on getting her to talk.
"Yes."
"Mind playing something for me? That might pass the time."
Dipping her both her index and middle fingers in the red paint, Cheteria didn't answer at first. She was busy paitning a straight red line from her shoulder down her arms to her elbows.
"Ma'am?"
"I like playing music when I'm by myself..."
The last touch of her costume was a red cross on the bandages that covered her stomach. Once she was finished, she closed the box again and carefully put it back in the case.
"Suit yourself then." Obviously frustrated, the seaman was looking at the island again before he could see Miss Akuvutika turn around.

Minutes went by as the two remained silent. The fairskinned woman's look had changed into that of a predator cowering before the jump. The corners of her mouth wer pointing slightly upwards. Slowly and silently, she robbed closer the fisher, making sure she didn't move enough in one rob for him to notice any noise. The anticipation ran through her body, making her voice tremble a little as she started talking again.
"I think I'll manage on my own now!"
"Hm?" The guy didn't even bother looking back anymore. He probably thought he had misheard "Are you finally thanking me for saving your life?"
"You should have gone with smoking."
"What are you talking ab-"
Like a snake, Chete suddenly shot up, grabbing the man's mouth with her right hand while putting her other one on the back of his head.
"Shrihihihihi!"

Multiple loud cracking sounds. Muffled screaming.

The boat hit the shore. Satisfied, Kulira Cheteria Akuvutika gracefully stepped offboard, putting her shirt back on as she did so. Shouldering her guitarcase and lighting another cigarette, the young musician left the dead good smaritan and wandered up the warm white beach, in the direction of the town.

[Elaborate]

The gaunt man awoke in a daze... his vision rather fuzzy as he cracked his eyes open. His mind swirled around in agony as he tried to recall the goings on during the night before. He would sit up, looking around, a puddle of drool upon the surface he was laying upon, yet his rear was firmly planted in a seat of some sort. As he would attempt to sit back in this seat he found his world rushing around him as he smacked the back of his head on the floor, the telltale sound of wood bashing into wood echoed through the room. "Hey, hey, hey, kid. You'd best not be muckin' up the establishment any more!" spoke a voice, fairly gruff.

Sitting up, the young man would groan and rub his head, "What happened to me?/My head's swimming something fierce/Was there a party?" The environment became more clear to him as he would proceed to rub the sand out of his eyes, a relaxing sensation akin to scratching an itch made his current state more acceptable. A bar, oddly quiet, though something didn't sit quite right about the place. It may have had something to do with all the unconscious people laying on the floor next to scattered barstools and toppled tables.

No something else was up, he would run his fingers through his hair to ease the pain of the hangover he could now assume he was suffering from. "There you go again with that weird speech pattern. That's the shit that started this whole bloody mess! Pick up that stool and sod off, before you break the windows, too!" the angry individual, who he could only suppose was the bartender, would complain. Smacking his lips together and sighing, he would ruffle his hair a moment and stand up, wobbling a bit, he'd pick up the stool he knocked over.

Then it hit him, the man of skin and bones would blink. "Wait just a moment.../My hat! It's not on my head!/Where'd it run off to?" he would complain sporadically. Wiping the saliva from his lower lip, he would huff angrily and start looking around with a violent leer, "Who took it from me?/I'll kill the bastard who dares!/I'll have my vengeance!" The bartender would slam his fist on the table, "Shut your god damned poem-hole and get the fuck outta my bar before I call the authorities!"

Now forlorn and without a hat, the young man would sniffle a bit despite his clear lack of nostrils to do it with, and walk out, defeated and dejected, making sure to carefully step over the folks littering the floor. A particular item caught his attention before he managed to exit, that being the spherical red form of his ball. "Oh, is that a thing?/I got involved in a brawl/This is my dodge ball," he would assert aloud. "Did you not just fuckin' hear me! Shut yer trap and leave!" The bartender was quite rude, but at least let him finish his poems.

Stepping out into the sunlight felt like a mistake, it hurt enough to induce vomiting, but the jerk of bartender didn't want him to enjoy life today, so by golly, he was going to hate life today. It was going to be a shitty day for sure.

[Blaka]

Kulira and her late companion had arrived on the north side of the island. Accordingly, the new arrival was looking at the three Yeste mountains in front of her as she strolled up the white beach. Lizards and spiders in the sand quickly crawled out of her way as the blonde's boots got too close for their taste.
Lush green and busy streets shared an equal amount of the picture. Loud clanking noises filled the air and smoke stacks riddled the otherwise spotless blue sky.

After only a few minutes, the sand on the ground made room for proper asphalt. A road led into the town, first only confined by vegetation left and right. Soon though, a few houses were scattered in between. Most of them were quite big and had an emblem hanging above the front door. These emblems all consisted of an anvil with some type of animal sitting on top of it. Property of rich smith families who like to live near the beautiful beaches most likely. From what the fisherman had told her, Lila knew that Yeste was all about swordmanship and the crafting of blades. Smithing was apparently a highly respected artform around town, so if you were a smith, you could amass wealth relatively quickly. Lila really didn't care about stuff like that at all though. It was surprising that she had actually listened and kept all of that in mind. Likely because there was nothing else to do out on sea.

Lighting a new cigarette, the android lass continued to march further into the city. Some new clothes would be nice, the sun was really burning hot and a longsleeve shirt and fur boots weren't exactly helping.

Finally, Miss Akuvutika saw the first human inhabitant since she got here. She was passing a mansion with a sideways eight above the anvil instead of an animal on the emblem. A young woman, maybe a little over 20 years old, stepped out of the front door. Her skin was fair with a slight sun tan. Long white hair fell straight down to about chest-length. She was wearing a cream-coloured, highcut sleeveless dress with spaghetti straps. Her feet were clad in dark blue sandals. A big purple bow graced the back of her head.
"I'll be back for dinner!", the woman yelled before closing the door behind her. As she turned around, her big violet eyes noticed Chete passing by.
"Good day!" the stranger greeted jovially and waved.

The cyborg lady simply ignored her and looked away, picking up her walking pace at the same time. The last the she needed was another 'friendly' blabbermouth.
"Hey! How rude!"
Exactly the point! Chete thought to herself. Rudeness usually made people lose interest in talking to her.

However, despite that, anticipation started building up in her chest.
Cheteria's usual modus operandi was arriving somewhere and making the first person she layed eyes on her local target. Usually, she would arrive at a port or something; a public place. The target had to be followed to their home, where the blonde killer would then break into and challenge them to a fight. A fight, that was more a beating the victim took, since most civilians didn't really have any skills to defend themselves properly. With this woman here, Kulira already knew where she was living. From what the white-haired woman had said, all Lila had to do was wait until dinner time before returning here. Alas, all day could be spend doing something else - like getting herself something to wear.

With her future victim following a dozen or so meters behind her, the smoking lady finally arrived in what one could call a busier part of town. All sorts of people filled the street, young and old, rich and poor. Shops, bars and smithing enterprises were everywhere. And as luck would have it, a cornerstore advertised 'Proper Fencing Gear'. Right what she needed. Letting the cigarette stub casually fall to the ground, the coldfaced lass entered the store.

Not ten minutes later, Cheteria was back on the streets. Of course, she had removed the paint on her arms and stomach. Her shirt had been switched for a tank top with a leopard pattern, her jeans were replaced by wine red hot pants. Only the gray fur boots stayed, as the store didn't have any shoes. The heat was a lot more bearable now.

A bit lost, Miss Akuvutika stood there in the buzzing street. Now what?

[Buddy1]

Blue Shiomaru soared through the sea, kicking up a torrent of water behind him. The Mako Sharkman had been exercising since the break of dawn, and on a whim decided to go swimming. Even amongst fishmen the athletic pirate was a good swimmer, so he was confident that he wouldn’t be gone long even if his crew needed him. He always enjoyed a freestyle in the wide open sea ever since he was a child; for reasons he couldn’t explain he took joy in something that was so common to his species. With thunderous strokes of his arms he pulled himself forward, leaving the wide open sea and eventually coming upon a coast.

“Ha-ya!” The youthful sharkman launched out of the water while performing a flashy spin kick in the air. As a wave of water splashed on the pavement below him, he landed on his feet while holding his arms above his head in a V-pattern. It was a common practice for him to pose like this—every time he made an entrance like this he wanted to leave a strong impression. At least, that’s how the pirates in Sama’s stories did it. It was wasted however, because no one was in this empty street. He cursed his bad luck, and scanned the area. Clearly he had gotten carried away with his swim and closed the distance all the way to another island.

“Oh, it’s Yeste again!” Shiomaru took in the sites, and took out his bag of navigator tools—though he didn’t really need them. He hadn’t paid attention to the island on the way here, but simply by taking in familiar landmarks could he tell where he was—even if he hadn’t been here before today. This islands famous mountains were unmistakable. The Sea Tiger pirates had fought this island on the same day they met their crewmates Brandy and Manuke. This is the very island that gave him his 15 million berri bounty.

“Oh, I really shouldn’t be here…” It didn’t take the young man very long to realize a grave truth. The wounds the Sea Tigers laid on this land hadn’t healed, and he was a wanted criminal. A passerby ran away in the distance, shouting cries of fear which Shiomaru would ignore. He remembered being a young fishman and swimming from island to island—at an age when it was much of difficult. Still, on days that he couldn’t find a friend on his home island, the ability to swim anywhere else was comforting. Now it was different, for now he was starting to gain fame as a pirate, and that would limit his freedom of movement in these seas. He stood on that street, wide eyed and dazed in daydreams. A feeling of melancholy passed with excited dreams of his future life as a pirate. He dreamed him standing a top of a pile of treasure, adorned in a decorative gold pirate frock coat—on an island on the edge of the world. So lost was he in daydreams, that he didn’t notice the growing crowd in the area.

“Ha ha…wow. I’m making a lot of mistakes today!” The sound of drawn blades woke Shiomaru from his dream. Now he stood before a mob of terrified, yet armed militia ready to stop this pirate. These particular men only heard rumors of the night the Sea Tigers attacked their island, but regardless of these fearsome rumors they were obligated to protect their home. The blue sharkman, unaware of these things, just smiled and laughed at himself. He wasn’t afraid, but rather eager for adventure.

[Blaka]

Some water would be nice, Kulira thought as she strolled through the city. None of the shops here interested her, as she wasn't a swordsman or anything. Sure, smiths would be able to help her should her metal limbs get damaged, but that wasn't the case today.

Passing some stranger who clearly drank a little much last night, the android woman finally entered a bar right around the corner. A fresh drink and a song would pass the time a little.
In here, the heat wasn't as bad. In fact it was a little cool now, but nothing in life was without compromises.
Left of the entrance, the room was taken up by a wooden counter and the area behind it. To her right, a couple of tables stood around, seemingly at random.
There weren't many people in here. Not many awakes ones at least. Only unconciouss drunks lying all over the floor and a single barman at the counter aggressively cleaning some alepots with a dirty cloth.
Upon hearing the door, the man's head shot up as he bellowed: "We are clo-"
He stopped himself mid sentence as he saw the lady walking in.
"Sorry about the mess ma'am." he mumbled instead, eyeing her up while his hands still rubbed around inside of the beer mug. "There's a table free over there in the back."
A tad put off by his guest's clear lack of politeness, his eyes followed her as Cheteria carefully stepped around the bodies on the floor. Not even a nod had been given in response. She had simply turned her gaze in the direction of the one free table over in the corner and started walking.
"C-can I get you anything ma'am?" the bartender asked to break the unnerving silence.
"A glass of water." Lila ordered, still focused on stepping on wooden ground instead of a sleeping patron.
"R-right. Glass of water. Hot day, huh?"
"Sure." she dismissed his attempt at smalltalk

At last, the guitarist made it to the table and descended upon the chair next to it. Her instrument case made a loud thud sound as she let it slide off her shoulder and onto the floor, missing a drooling body there by just an inch.
Without asking first, the blonde proceeded to take out her guitar and gently place it on her thighs. Closing her eyes, she stopped paying attention to her surroundings and took a deep breath to prepare herself for the torrent of emotions that would soon be upon her. Music. Music and killing people. That was what she lived for.

The tapster at the counter observed the absurd scene with a mix of amusement and suspicion. The moment the young musician had taken out her instrument he had stopped moving. Now he just stood there with a glass ready in the sink and his other hand on the tap. Who in their right mind would expect to still get served if a bar looked like this? Who was this woman? Why was she wearing those thick fur shoes?

None of this mattered however. Neither the barkeep's questions nor Chete's incoming feelings.
With a loud bang the door flung open and a middleaged man in a hawaian shirt and a rapier in his palm yelled as loud as he could:
"They are back Jim! The Sea Tigers are back! They already killed someone too! Somebody found a fisherman down at the docks, broke all of his bones!"
All of the sudden, all colour left the bar owner's face. Then it turned into a fiery red in a blink.


Reluctantly, Miss Akuvutika opened her right eye. Sea Tigers? Wasn't that a pirate crew she had read about recently? While she hadn't memorised any names, something about this crew and Yeste Island rang a bell...
"Come help and fight them, we cornered the Blue one down at the beach!"
"These people!" shouted 'Jim' at no one in particular. "They'll get what they deserve this time, I'm coming with you!" Letting empty glass fall in the sink as he let go of it, he took two shiny cleavers out from under the sink and rushed out with the other guy. Seemingly, his strange patron was completely forgotten.

Left alone in the room, the cyborg lass was about to close her eyes again. What did she care about some pirates? If the entire island was after them, that surely wasn't a big deal for very long. It would even provide some distraction for her escape after the kill this evening.

Yet, just before her eyelid closed, she was able to catch a glimpse of something problematic:
Her target running past the open bar door, hurrying back home. Damn. The mansion had looked so big that it reasonable to assume the family there would pay people to protect themselves from raids. If Chete didn't catch the girl before the latter got back, getting to her would prove problematic.

With a loud sigh, Kulira hectically crammed her guitar back in its case, shouldered it and sped out the door, trampling over every single passed out patron.

[Buddy1]

“Bonito…Ringa!” The mob tried to close in on the newcomer pirate. This battle would start with the closest man suffering from Shiomaru’s mighty attack. One burly swordsman tried to swing his blade down on the young sharkman only to be countered. Not suspecting the pirate’s strength and speed, a high impact fist crashed into one man and knocked him into the crowd behind him. The remaining mob stood, startled, suddenly realizing just how dangerous their target was. Rumor was one thing, but seeing it in person was another. Many stepped back from the steadfast pirate, only to wearily reaffirm themselves a minute later. They were afraid, yes, but the need to protect their town won out. They charged again, and the sharkman defended himself. Each tried to cut the pirate down, but every attack was dodged and answered with a high impact attack. Within a minute the fight was over, many bones were broken, and the mob was unconscious. Shiomaru stood alone on an empty street.

“I won!” Shiomaru had beaten his attackers. In his mind, he had been challenged, and defeated his opponents. He looked around the island. While he recognized it as Yeste, he was amazed had big the island really was. The area where his crew fought was nowhere in sight, and another section of town existed completely untouched by that destructive affair. This was a residential area. Houses dotted a hill dotted with tropical trees. Civilians walked through the sidewalks in the distance, just now noticing a far off battle ending. Fear crept throughout the area, but was tempered with a new mob of militia flanking the blue pirate. They ran at him through the sidewalks.

The young navigator noticed all of this, and in the face of this battle turned towards the sea. He realized he could end this all by simply jumping into the ocean and swimming away. He was too fast for any human to catch him, and he was sure he could swim back to his pirate crew before they noticed he was gone. While he usually overestimated his speed, Shiomaru definitely was fast in the sea. So fast, he thought, that he figured that he could return to his crew any time and get back to them before noticing. With that in mind, he figured he could continue his morning workout routine on this island. He only needed to imagine where he’d go next.

As the mob made their way towards him, he remembered one of his mentor Sama’s stories—from when Sama was a young man in an all fishman pirate crew. The clownfishman remembered one of his captain’s warriors, a scarred Giant Pacific Octopusman named Kaguchi. He was distinct from the rest of his crew in his skill with metallurgy. Seemingly as a hobby, this man forged metal plates day after day, and adorned them over his body. He worn plate armor along his eight arms, which lead to the metal slab he wore on his head. Through a science that Sama couldn’t explain, Kaguchi always worn a metal hat that housed a small fire. It was impossible to miss, especially when otherwise this fishman only wore the cheapest rags he could find. Between the metal on his body and the fire on his head, it was difficult to see the scarred, burnt red body of this mighty Octopusman. He spoke rarely, but when he did, he commanded attention. One day, he saved Sama’s life, and it was the only day Kaguchi spoke to him directly.

“Child, do you fear pain? Do you fear fire? There’s nothing wrong with that, but I don’t fear those things anymore. I’ve seen the extent of all of these things, and learned balance. Now they can never hurt me again.” Kaguchi explained a scared child Sama his life philosophy. He had experienced many pains in his life, and while instinct demanded he avoid them, it wasn’t possible at the time. He wielded fire as a weapon, and only through his experience could he learn to do that without burning himself. Fire was familiar to him. Fire comforted him and kept him warm at night. He used it to help the crew’s chef cook meals, and enjoyed eating together with them. He had been burned, yet was well-versed in treating the burns. He had often burned himself without a cry or a whimper, only to treat the wound and walk away unfazed. Yet he recalled the damage fire could cause, and distantly remembered fearing it himself. But, in spite of the apparent danger, he assured the young Sama that these were natural things. He assured a scared child that while the pain seemed terrifying, he would grow stronger from it. If he learned to balance these things, then he could grow strong no matter how scary it seemed. With knowledge and experience, a man could easily wield fire, and he was sure the same applied to all things in this world. Sama heard these words lying on the ground, bleeding from gunshots in the shoulder and leg.

The two of them stood surrounded by a mob of well-armed militia, surrounded by other wounded crew mates—a swordfishman Wally and squirrelfishman Rango. Flaming torches fueled embers that floated into the night sky. They had been caught away from their crew, neglecting to let anyone know where they were. These men needed no reason to attack them, for they were pirates on a civilized island. But they surrounded them quickly, and caught them off guard. Only Kaguchi stood unharmed, and the mob hesitated to attack them out of fear. Not only did the mob fear the legendary strength of fishmen, but they didn’t understand why this one fishman wore a fiery metal fire pit on his head.

“I fear. Then I learn.” Kaguchi was always clam, even now. His piercing eyes observed the situation, and gathered knowledge on their attackers. There were exactly 200 men, wielding all manner of weapons. 100 guns, 56 swords, 44 blunt weapons, and 100 men holding torches in their other hand. They waited for the one standing pirate to attack, and that’s where his greatest advantage lied. They didn’t understand how the metal plates on his arms and fire pit on his head all worked together. They were one metal device covered in a thin gel of his own creation, one that was flammable yet controlled to the area of its application. With a turn of a switch on his head, sparks flew from the pirate’s cap, and ignited the metal plates on his arms—surrounding this man with fire. Yet, no flamed touched his body—it all stayed in place on his arms and head.

Sama remembered unbearable heat. Kaguchi was sweating profusely, yet he handled it well—clearly he had experienced it many times before now. Despite being weary from his wounds, the boy fishman couldn’t forget the scene that day. One pirate, adorned in flame, charged at a terrified mob of militia. Many ran, never to be seen again, and those who attacked suffered for it. They tried to strike the flame-adorned pirate down, but their attacks never struck a fatal blow. Most of those men caught on fire before they could reach him. Any bullets were deflected by the metal on his arms, and any strikes that did hit his body could not pierce the combination of metal and scarred skin that covered his vital parts. The battle was an exercise in futility, and only the one pirate understood how everything would play out. The fight waged for hours, and at the end only he stood, his fires blown out and his body bleeding many superficial wounds. He left that set of plates behind that day, because otherwise he couldn’t safely drag his crew mates back to the ship.

Sama told Shiomaru all this many years ago, and the boy listen in wide-eyed joy about the unstoppable warrior. The clownfishman praised him as a guide and mentor to everyone on that ship. Kaguchi would serve on that crew many more years, and play a vital part in many battles. However, this fishman had lived his youth as a slave, burned and scarred by a cruel master. Wielding flaming metal as a weapon, he had broken through his prison and escaped, but the scars he gained there would never heal. He hid his injuries from most, but Sama had figured it out with age. The Octopusman was always more hurt then he let on, yet lived every day trying to be a great example to his crewmates. The old internal injuries took a toll on this man, and eventually they would wear him down. One day, Kaguchi simply collapsed on the deck, and died while unconscious. Sama told Shiomaru everything, except for his friend’s time as a slave. Years ago, his Captain Ben had requested he keep this secret, and he kept his word even now. Thankfully, Blue Shiomaru was so enamored with the character of this story that it was easy to leave out that detail.

As the mob approached, Shiomaru’s felt electrified. It was a risk, but now it had a chance to incorporate something dangerous in his training. He looked at the mob. It seemed exactly like the one he defeated before—there wouldd be little challenge in beating them now. He wondered how far he could go on this island as it was now. As pirates, his crew would have to fight the world. While he had fought mobs before, he wondered how far he could travel on this island before being cornered.


“Hey, bet you can’t catch me!” It was dangerous, yes, but if he succeeded he could return to the Sea-Tigers as a much more capable pirate. As the mob approached, he ran in the other direction, leaving them behind. The game was a chase, and Shiomaru sought to test his endurance against Yeste Island.