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Waves rocked the Jackrabbit side to side gently. The little boat’s sails caught the soft wind and gently propelled it throughout the expansive blueness of the water that stretched farther than what the eye could see. Coyote’s harmonica trilled amongst the empty sea, the metal sliding to and fro against her lips. She sat on the deck, her toned back against the hull’s wall as the sea’s breeze weaved through her midnight, but greying, hair. Mihawk stepped out of the tiny cabin, bent nearly in half as his tall frame could hardly fit through the door—or anywhere on the boat, for that matter. Though the smell of the salty sea was not his favourite, it was kind to his nose nonetheless. His sharp eyes analyzed Coyote as she made the harmonica whine; melancholic song escaped it and soothed his ears as it ever did. Leaning against the smooth wooden wall of the cabin, Mihawk listened to her playing.
“Good,” Mihawk said once Coyote’s song reached a pause, his voice silky as ever. “I have yet to see why you hesitate to invite me onto your boat.”
Pulling the harmonica from her lips, Coyote’s gaze flicked up to Mihawk. His hair was still as black as the night sky, despite being older than her—she would’ve been envious of it, had she cared any more for her appearance. The waves rippled along the water’s surface and hit the side of her sailboat to fill in the silence leftover from the stopping of her music. With the raise of an eyebrow, Coyote shrugged dismissively.
“I dunno,” she responded, already beginning to bring the harmonica back up to play. “It’s my place o’ comfort, n’ solitude. You know I like my alone time.”
She blew softly into the instrument and continued her song from where she left off. The metal felt as cool as the dismissive words that had just escaped her mouth, the tune no longer feeling as warm as it just did to Mihawk. His eye twitched. Such a dismissal was not appreciated, clearly.
“It feels to me that you do not wish to be seen in public with me,” he pressed. Dissatisfaction grew with every note she played and the growl in his voice made that clear. “Is it that you are embarrassed of having an infatuation?”
“What?” Coyote coughed into her harmonica. She brought it down and whipped her head up to see him clearly. Her brow furrowed at his suggestion. “It ain’t at all. I seriously just like my alone time.”
The wind picked up, prompting Coyote to get up and start fiddling with some ropes. Clouds blocked out the sun, looking dark and malicious—Coyote acknowledged them, cursing under her breath at the timing of it all. A droplet of rain plopped onto the wooden deck next to her. It left a wet mark that made her grit her teeth in annoyance. Mihawk paid no mind to the changing tide, the slightest of frowns tugging at his lips.
“You seem to adore it,” he huffed out. The waves bullied the Jackrabbit, pushing it around roughly. Mihawk muttered through his teeth, “there is a mere month of the year that I have the pleasure of seeing you.”
As the rain got heavier, Coyote rushed to the mast and pulled the reef points on the headsail down, tying it down in order to make it smaller. The wind resisted her, unknowing of her years of experience and physical training. A hard pull granted for Coyote to reef the sail and ensure that her knots were secure. Her calloused hands no longer burned when the rope tried to break free of her grasp; she gripped it tighter, refusing the possibility of her sails being unmanageable.
“I thought you were alrigh’ with our setup,” she grunted out, sparing a glance at Mihawk. His hands were clasped around some of the standing rigging, keeping him upright as the storm shoved Coyote’s poor sailboat around. “Why’s this only an issue now? And why’s it gotta be when the Devil’s beatin’— nah, killin’ his damn wife?!”
“Why would I be ‘alright’ with such an arrangement?” Mihawk responded. Grabbing a rope, he began to tug on it—perhaps he was trying to reign the sails, maybe he was trying to help Coyote. In disappointment, he added, “you are always away.”
Coyote furrowed her brow as the sails moved against her whims. These sails weren’t always this hard to maneuver—was the storm really that strong? She looked back at Mihawk, noticing him holding a rope that was not supposed to be touched at all. Her grip loosened for a second. Is this guy serious? Thunder rumbled throughout the darkened sky, warning the dinky sailboat.
“Let go of that, jackass!” Coyote yelled at Mihawk, her frustration with the entire situation bubbling over. “Plus, it ain’t like I’m avoidin’ you or nothin’.”
“It feels as though you are,” Mihawk retorted, dropping the rope and grabbing back onto a cable of the standing rigging. He rolled his eyes at her yelling at him. He was just trying to help out! Rust and barnacles caught his attention; the anchor was eyeing him, suggesting to be thrown overboard. Somewhere along the sea, he heard that during a storm you should anchor your boat—or maybe it was that you should never anchor your boat? In any case, he picked it up and threw it overboard. The chain hissed as it slipped into the sea. Coyote didn’t seem to notice, still preoccupied with the sails as the whistling wind fought for control over them. Mihawk turned back to her once the chain stopped unfurling, “you are always all over the world, and I have no means of contacting you.”
“Yer a pirate, just as I am,” Coyote cried out, exasperated by the conversation already. Was it truly something that needed to be happening while her boat was at risk of capsizing from this wretched storm? Could this conversation not have happened at any other point in time? With a great tug on the line, she finally got the sails in her control. Keeping the tension high, she grabbed the helm. She glared at Mihawk once more, “if you actually sailed for once in yer life, which is what a pirate should be doin’ anyways, ya’d see me more!”
Just as she finished her sentence, something big and heavy splashed into the water next to the boat, drenching her more than the rain did. Coyote whipped her head around quickly and was greeted by the sight of a massive boat behind them; its huge white sails bore the symbol of the Marines, threatening her very existence. Her eyes widened in horror, and her pupils shrunk into pinpricks. She pulled on the rope tight to create a twist in the sail for her boat to move faster. When it barely sped up, her heart did so instead. Her eyebrows furrowed—why was the Jackrabbit going against her whims again? She searched for any reason, before she saw the anchor chain laying over the side of the hull. Her eye twitched. Her grip on the line tightened—she would have split it in half if she gripped it any tighter. Slowly turning to look at Mihawk, her breathing got heavier. Mihawk, on the other hand, held his.
“MIHAWK!!!” She roared, her voice filled with fury, “STOP MESSIN’ AROUND WITH MY BOAT!!! This is why I never invite you on my journeys!”
After tying the line she was holding onto a standing cable, she rushed to the anchor. With her bare strength, she began pulling it back up onto the boat. The rain pelted down on her and dripped down her chin. It cooled down her burning muscles that ached like hell. Thank the stars that she had been training based on the weight of her anchor, otherwise she would’ve been helpless. She huffed through her clenched teeth, her breath almost hot enough that Mihawk could see it. He helped bring the anchor back up and uttered a quiet apology to her. Even this, however, did not seem to prompt him to end the conversation.
“Why must you even adventure as you do?” He asked once they finally heaved the anchor back onto the boat. He finally decided to just stand around, and held onto anything that would support himself as the merciless waves shook the boat all around. “You and I both know that you do not like people very much.”
Another cannonball splashed into the water and tipped the Jackrabbit over a bit too much for comfort.
“We’re bein’ shot at,” Coyote growled, grabbing the line and pulling it tight again. The twist allowed for her boat to finally speed up—just in time, as the Marines had been creeping closer and closer. It cut through the waves, going the fastest it could. She huffed, “plus, I do like people. That’s why I travel.”
“You have no crew,” Mihawk countered, “you are a pirate with no crew. Do not give me that.”
“That don’t mean nothin’,” Coyote clapped back, a small snarl in her tone. “I don’t like company. I love people, though.”
A quick turn left could possibly throw the Marines off, thought Coyote. There was no harm in trying, anyway, so she grabbed the helm and spun it enough to make the maneuver. The rain continued pouring down on her unsparingly; it soaked her to the bone and caused a full-body shiver. Her sails were drenched, and her lines were getting harder to hold onto with how wet they were getting.
“It does not feel as though you like me,” Mihawk asserted, “it is as though you are ashamed of me.”
“What???” Coyote gasped, physically recoiling at the mere notion. She stared at Mihawk like he had grown a second head. Usually tidy black hair was long messied by the rain; it covered his forehead and gave him a younger look. Sopping clothes that clung to his body made him look unusually frail. She waved her hand in the hair vigorously, as though shooing the thought away, “no way you really think that! Of course I ain’t ashamed of you.”
Sparing a glance behind, a sigh slipped from Coyote once she noticed that the distance between them and the Marines had grown exponentially. At least they seemed to be backing off. Perhaps they were too preoccupied with handling the storm to chase after a tiny sailboat. Thank gosh for that, for that was one problem off her hands. As long as she could keep control over her sails—which didn’t seem too difficult as she had persisted through stronger winds and Mihawk wasn’t screwing around anymore—she would be just fine. Mihawk, however, was another conversation completely. Confrontation and communication were Coyote’s least favourite c-words. In her eyes, if there’s some sort of problem, just leave. It had worked for her so far, anyway—she was still alive and well, wasn’t she? Mihawk eyed her in silence, his arms crossed.
“Listen,” Coyote said with a breath, finally relaxing for the first time since the first raindrop, “this ain’t anything personal. I just like sailin’ alone—hell, ya kept messin’ me up til I was ‘bouta rip you a new one. Fact is, if I saw ya on some random island I’d call out to ya without a moment to spare.”
“I see,” he muttered. He looked away sheepishly—he hadn’t expected her to say anything of comfort at all. It was a nice change of pace, he supposed. The sun began peeking through the darkened clouds and warmed Mihawk’s face. It was the sun doing so, certainly. He was, at last, out of complaints. A nod and a short breath was all that remained.
Coyote looked back once more, the Marines out of sight and the clouds behind them. The storm was over, and she could finally relax. Now all that was left was changing into something dry.