Chapter Text
The stench of rotting fish and sweat chokes the air around you, the overcrowded port filled with people of all ages.
Some are small thieves, hiding behind the sweet innocence of a child's eyes, others are shrivelled stall keepers yelling at any who pass by to buy their wares, and the rest are closer to your own age, just struggling to survive another day.
This is Port Strata, the busiest and roughest part of the seven seas. Infested by all the worst scumbags, yet the most popular place to be, it seems.
You sit behind your own stall, offering anybody who comes near your own catch, having gone out fishing earlier that morning.
It is extremely dangerous to go out onto the sea alone, and it is especially dangerous to go out onto the sea near Port Strata alone, all due to one thing.
Pirates.
Fortunately, you managed not to come across any while you were out today, but you were almost painfully aware of the risk the whole time you were out.
You had managed to scrape together just enough money to buy slightly better fishing gear, and today's catch was the reward for that effort.
Said gear sits under the stall, hidden out of plain view, the risk of it being stolen too high for your liking.
You have sold more fish than usual today, probably from the better quality, and you are feeling quite optimistic about food.
Hey, you may even be able to afford breakfast for tomorrow.
While you are too preoccupied daydreaming about the food you could buy, a silent silver and blue hand approaches you, sneaking toward the small coin pouch resting on your hip.
You are jolted out of your mind by a slight weight being lifted, having learned to recognise the feeling from living in a society mostly made up of pickpockets for most of your life.
Your hand reacts faster than your head does, snapping down and catching the dirty thief's wrist as they try to escape.
Swiftly looking down, you expect to see a small child who got a little too greedy for their own good, but are startled to be greeted with a circular, flat face grinning up at you.
The face is split into two halves, one a pale, almost glowing white and the other a deep midnight blue. The shape, you find, is reminiscent of a crescent moon.
They seem to have some odd hat on their head, one that seems similar to a night cap in a way, coated in bright yellow stars.
But the feature that particularly catches your gaze is his eyes.
Vivid, glowing crimson, the colour uncomfortably similar to that of freshly spilt blood.
You suddenly become aware of how their hand is cold and hard, almost as if it were made of…
Metal. This person is made entirely of metal.
And he is currently stealing your money.
Their grin widens as he catches you staring at him, and they use your momentary paralysis to yank their hand away and start weaving their way back into the crowd.
You jump up with a shout, and start pushing people out of the way in an attempt to catch the mechanical thief.
“Excuse me, sorry! Coming through! Out of the way please!” you are suddenly knocked back as you slam into something hard.
No. Not something. Someone
You spit out some jumbled apology and try to move past the figure to regain sight of the metal menace who stole your money, but are stopped by them once again standing in your path.
They are tall enough that you cannot see his face, not that you really want to focus on the face of your current obstacle.
“Urgh! Move! Could you not hear me before? Some tall blue bugger just stole my money and I need to get it back, so can you please move out of my way?!”
Your voice is edging on desperate as you try to get around him, only for your attempts to be in vain as they block your way, yet again.
A somewhat high, smooth voice drifts down from above your head.
“Well, that certainly isn’t a pleasant way to speak about people, now is it?”
This person isn’t from around here. You can tell by the sound of his voice, far too polite and well spoken to have grown up fishing or thieving.
This somewhat piques your interest, and you glance up at their face to see if you recognise him as one of the nobility that occasionally parade their wealth about here, but you are sorely disappointed.
You are greeted by another round, flat face with another grin, this one with a false friendliness draped over it.
This face is also split into two halves with the same crescent moon shape, but one side is a pale yellow and the other a shining gold that catches and reflects the sunlight. Their eyes are different to their counterpart’s however, being pure white in place of deep crimson.
His face is also framed by several sharp triangle-shaped things that look almost similar to a cartoon sun’s rays.
They chuckle at the puzzled and slightly awed look on your face, and the sound is light and airy, reminiscent of bells ringing. It is a pleasant sound.
Until you remember where you are and what is happening.
You open your mouth to start yelling at this guy to return your stolen money when a low, melodic voice interrupts you from behind.
“Hmm… ‘some tall, blue bugger’... that’s a new one. We’ll have to add it to the list, Sunny”
You whip around so fast your head spins slightly and you take a second to regain your balance before shouting,
“You! Give my money back!”
You lunge at the lunar thief, almost managing to catch their arm before they elegantly step away, leaving you to quickly recover from the failed attack.
“Tut, tut, whoever taught you to fight like that. Oh, and we can add that I suppose, Moon. Yours is much longer than mine, I wonder why…”
‘Sunny’ pauses as if in deep thought, tapping his chin with their thin finger.
“Look, I don’t care who you are or where you are from, because you certainly aren’t from here, but I will ask nicely. Please return my money.”
You level them both with a glare that, if looks could kill, would have them both dead at least twenty times over.
“My sincerest apologies, Sunbeam, but I cannot help but ask why we ‘certainly aren’t from here’?”
You grit your teeth, debating whether or not you should answer. One one hand, they just stole your flipping money and need to give it back, but on the other hand, he seems genuinely curious. Surely they aren’t that oblivious?
“Your voice,” you say, meeting the golden one’s eyes with a hard look, “You are far too well-spoken, far too polite to have grown up in a place like this.”
“Well, with that logic, so are you.”
Your eyes lock onto the unnerving crimson stare of ‘Moon’, your gaze one of confusion.
“You are also far too ‘well-spoken’ to have grown up in a place like this. If you had, your grammar and vocabulary would be quite impressive.”
Stay silent, you avoid both of their eyes, not wanting to tell your life’s story to some random people whom you have only just met. And who stole from you, dammit! You should be focussing on that, not where they came from!
“Just give me back my money,” you hiss, “and I’ll leave you two to just… do whatever it is you’re doing here.”
“Apologies, Moonbeam, you are not going to get this back,” says the silvery one with a sly wink, “Goodbye~”
They and their sunny twin share a look and step back into the rushing crowd, disappearing from view.
You have to physically stop yourself from screaming out. Those absolute jerks just stole your money then literally vanished into the crowd.
Brilliant. Just brilliant.
The gleam of sunlight reflecting off of a metal hand goes unnoticed by you as you slowly turn back towards where your stall is.
Oh no.
Your stall.
You sprint back towards the dock, squeezing through the crowd, earning a string of colourful curses being thrown at you from every direction, but you pay them no mind as you race back to where your gear hopefully still is.
You get back and quickly check under the stall, looking for your brand-new equipment, only to find it missing from its hiding spot.
Of course. Somebody stole it.
Most of your fish is also gone, the only ones left being too small to really have any sustenance. You see a young, brunette boy eyeing up one of the fish hungrily. He can’t be older than twelve, possibly eleven, and he is fairly pale. He glances up at you quickly, as if deciding what to do and you decide to hell with this.
You pick up the fish and hold it out for him to take. You have already lost everything, why not let the kid have some free food? It’s a kindness you wish you were given as a child.
He eyes you suspiciously before grabbing it and running away. As he turns you spot a small plaster across his right cheek. Hmm. He must have gotten himself into some trouble.
You slump down onto your small, rickety stool that was miraculously untouched and press the heels of your hands into your eyes. Hard.
When you pull them away a few seconds later, you are surprised to see they are damp.
Great. Now you’re apparently crying too.
You dry your eyes with your sleeve, hoping they haven’t gone red. You’re usually lucky enough to be classed as a ‘pretty crier’, or whatever it is. It basically means your eyes don’t usually go red and swollen when you cry. Luck hasn’t exactly been on your side lately though, so you never know.
When you look up again, you spot the boy again, this time dragging a girl with him. This girl looked to be a few years older than him, and also had brown hair. She had darker skin than the boy, freckles dusted over the bridge of her nose and her cheeks. There are also purple hair ties in her hair.
To your surprise, he drags her over to your stall before pointing at one of your last two fish, gesturing to her, and then gazing up at you with big sad eyes.
Instantly, you can tell what he wants. Food for his friend.
You sigh. ‘Eh, why not?’ you think to yourself and nod. He gives you a big grin and grabs it, passing it to the girl who quietly mumbles something that sounds like a thank you of some kind and they run off together, both smiling at each other.
You sigh. At least you have one left for yourself.
You stand up, taking your stool with you, and pick up the fish. You’ll need to go home to cook this.
You slowly make your way across the dock, intending to cut around the outskirts of the island to get back to your house. Well, your shack really. It isn’t in the best condition, but it provides shelter and somewhere to cook, so it serves its purpose well enough.
You slip inside and place down the stool, laying the fish on the cleanest surface you can find. You start the fire and stare at the amber flames, watching your oldest memories dance through them before grabbing your cleanest and only pan and setting the fish inside.
You had already gutted it and removed the bones from all the fish before attempting to sell them, so at least you didn’t need to add that to your list of chores.
As you wait for your pitiful meal to cook, your eyes wander to the small photo next to your bed. The frame is damaged with dark markings running up the edges, but still beautiful, painted ocean blue with little seashells and mini pearls lining it.
Inside the frame sit two children underneath a towering willow tree. The small stone bench has a younger version of yourself sitting on it, next to a girl the same age. You look away, your throat feeling tight.
You miss her.