Grand Voyage- Log 8

Getting new glasses is so troublesome

I mean, all I want to do

Is get out of school and come home

But no,

I have to go get new glasses

Even though my current ones work fine.

''Or do they? I dunno.''

-Zeon1

Log 8: Harbinger Island Part 1
“Okay, batter up.”

D’Artagnan marched up to the small burlap sack, one of five that he and Knave had laid on the ship’s deck in the shape of a baseball field. Art stepped right behind the one that symbolized the batter’s position, then quickly unsheathed his knives. “Ready!” he called to Knave, who was standing in the pitcher’s position.

“Alright then!” Knave cried, slamming his fists together, as the white aura surged briefly, “Naga Naga no....” The white flame energy wrapped around one of his hands, as he struck a classic pitcher’s pose. Art primed his knives, sinking into a fighting position.

“.....Signature Pitch!” Knave called, bringing his arm forward as if to throw a ball, but rather, sent the blast of energy flying at his Majin comrade, who quickly began swinging his knives around.

“Two Knife Style: Home Run!” he called, as he released several compressed air slashes that cut through the flimsy energy Knave’s ‘pitch’ was made of, and they continued through the air, flying towards the sails.

“Naga Naga no Lightspeed!” Knave cried, his body glowing once again as he soared up into the air, reaching to stop the slashes, but, several seconds after he took off, the aura faded, and the marimo boy crashed to the ground. D’Artagnan’s slashes flew over the sails, and faded away into the sky.

“Home Run!” Art cried happily, skipping along the other burlap sacks, while his captain pulled himself up, grumbling.

“No way,” Knave replied huffily, picking his nose with disdain, “that was a strike.”

“Bullsh*t!” the Majin said, stopping suddenly, “that was a clean hit and you know it!”

“I thought we agreed that above the sails was a strike!”

“It’s only a strike if you don’t make any attempt to catch it! You did, so it counts!”

“I never agreed to that!”

“Oh yes you did!”

“Bullsh*t!”

“Enough!” Art growled, rubbing his head, “can we just call it a strike, if it’ll make you happy?!”

“Of course!” Knave chirped, smiling happily, “I knew I was right.”

“Yeah, yeah, sure,” D’Artagnan mumbled, as he began moving towards the storage room, “I’m gonna get some grub, you coming?”

“Food?! Gimme!” Knave cried happily, jogging after his first mate.

Captain Falstaff Cheney, leader of the Harbinger Island Marine outpost, sighed and took another long puff from his cigar, then resumed staring out the window and staring at the landscape.

Harbinger Island wasn’t much. Heck, it wasn’t even technically an island. It was a large group of boulders all grouped tightly together, with a long, central boulder acting as the ground for most of the island, with the other boulders forming a rocky defense. The result was a lot of crashed ships, especially those of pirates, who had hoped to gain some notoriety for killing a whole Marine base.

The base had been originally established in order for the World Government to keep an eye on any South Blue pirates who were heading into the final part of the South Blue, aiming for the Grand Line. Most pirate ships were allowed to pass without incident, though their ship’s appearance and even some crewmembers’ names were carefully recorded, to be reported to the Government in case the said pirate crews decided to cause any trouble later in their journey.

It’s been a long, boring 18 years, the Captain thought, taking another long whiff from his cigar, ''and I have no idea how much longer I’ll be stuck here. This is no life for my son, not for a growing boy''.

A knock sounded on his door, and Falstaff let out a small grunt. The door clicked up, revealing a young marine who looked eager to please. “Falstaff-sama?” he asked, gently sliding in.

“Yes, Morris?” Captain Cheney asked, still facing the window.

“Coco’s upsetting the men again, sir.”

Coco, the damn brat. The thought came quickly to Falstaff’s mind, and he quickly pushed it down into the darker parts of his consciousness. “Is Sid around?” he asked.

“No sir. We think he went to the ‘coast’ again, sir. And he’s turned his Den Den Mushi off.”

“Then I’ll deal with Coco,” said the Captain, as he stood, his powerful and trained body flexing as he moved, “lead me to where he is.”

“Yes, sir.”

“And check the mens’ magazine collections. I have an odd feeling my son’s burgled from them again.”

“Art?” Knave asked through a mouthful of cornbread.

“Yeah?” D’Artagnan replied, taking a swig of sake from his cup.

The duo were eating dinner out on the main deck of the Shooting Star, the sun beginning to sink over the horizon, a few dark storm clouds building across from it. Knave paused before continuing, devouring the last of the whole pan full of cornbread he had seized, then reaching and snatching several large biscuits.

“You know where we’re going?” the marimo lad asked, before taking a large bite out of one of the biscuits.

“No clue. And save some biscuits for me.”

“Hey look, a storm.”

And that’s when the first waves hit them.

“Sieghart-san?” Kinan asked, brushing her white-with-tints-of-blonde hair back a bit, lest the wind blow it over her eyes.

“Yeah?” the Vice Admiral asked, who had taken the other approach and had stuck his head fully into the wind, sending his short-cropped but still slightly long tan hair flapping behind his head.

“Where are we going?”

“I was wondering the same thing,” Gerard replied, having elected to sit on a small table further down the deck of the ship, sipping his coffee and flipping through a newspaper. Rather than use their.... unorthodox travelling methods that they had used to reach the previous island so quickly, the team had decided to charter a Marine ship to take them to a location, that, so far, only Siege and the navigator knew.

“We’re going to see an old friend,” Sieghart replied, “and hopefully we’ll get some more info on this kid we’re supposed to be hunting down.”

On the very edges of Harbinger Island, where the waves crashed against the more sharp and spiky boulders making up the island, a teenage boy sat calmly between two of said boulders, his feet pressed against one, with his back and rump resting on the other. He was slurping quietly on a stick of dango that lay between his lips, and he was flipping through a Playboy-esque magazine.

“Hehehe,” the young man snickered, flipping the page to expose more... treasured contents, pausing only to shake a few drops of water the ocean spray had deposited on his reading material.

Suddenly, the boy looked up, sensing a very slight change in wind. “Storm’s coming,” he muttered, glancing at the small Den Den Mushi that was sunbathing on another rock nearby, its eyes closed peacefully, “maybe I should tell dad...”

He reached for it.

“Damn it, Knave!” D’Artagnan howled, as he was forced against the poles leading up to the sails by another strong gust of wind, “mention things like this earlier!”

“Sorry!” Knave yelled, holding onto dear life by the ship’s railing, his scarf, and, indeed, the rest of his body whipped around in the wind, rain lashing against them and lightning striking the sea. Waves in the likeness of mountains rose, smashing into the ship and often sending Art crashing down, only to attempt to climb up again.

“Got it!” the Majin cried, as he successfully untangled the extra sails, which quickly billowed out, filling with wind. Unfortunately, they did their job a bit TOO well, sending the Star soaring into the air, and sending Art flying through the air, almost spinning in fact, causing him to smash into Knave.

The two flew into the air, another large wave rising up to meet them....

“IRRESPONSIBLE BRAT!”

The young man pulled his head back, as though attempting to avoid his father’s words through the Den Den Mushi. “Sorry!” he called back, “and besides, you’re being selfish, restraining your son from his natural urges!”

“I’m not talking about the porno!” Falstaff Cheney roared back, “we talked about this! You’re supposed to keep an eye on Coco! And here he is, rallying up the troops on his mad quest, while you’re out drooling over pictures!”

“I already said I was sorry!”

“Sorry’s not good enough! Now get your lazy behind back to base and make sure Coco doesn’t lead a revolution! Got that?”

“Got it, dad,” Sid Cheney said, once again turning off his Den Den Mushi, as the creature resumed its lazy slumber. Shaking his head, the blue-haired teen shoved the magazine and Den Den into a small pack on his back.

“Geppo!” Sid cried, and he leaped into the air, then began jumping while still airborne, propelling him towards the base.

“Naga Naga no Lightspeed!” Knave cried desperately, as the white aura surrounded him once again, as he flew towards the ship. Thankfully, the ability died right as his hand grabbed the railing once more. At the same time, Art seized Knave’s knees, and the two formed an odd sort of daisy chain. It was hang on or die!

“Whew,” D’Artagnan exhaled, “well, at least it shouldn’t get-”

At that moment, a truly massive buffet of wind emerged, causing the Shooting Star’s sails to stretch to maximum capacity, as the ship lifted up, truly becoming airborne. It flew through the sky, launching towards the bright sky a few miles ahead.

“AAAAAHHHHHHHHH!!!” the two pirates cried, as they flew towards what they believed was their doom.....

~End of Log~

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Special Notes:

 * Sorry folks, but Sieghart won't be appearing for awhile after this.