THEY KNOW HOW TO SWIM
year one
"You're not weak just because your heart feels so heavy."
―Andrea Gibson
[part two]
Daw figures that anyone who eats as much of his food as Kai does is alright by him. The boy is still awfully quiet, and the only one he really talks to is Yung, but Daw doesn't mind. His little brother, Jano, hardly ever spoke around strangers either, but when it was him and his brother and sisters, it was impossible to get him to shut up. Maybe Kai is the same way.
Kai is starting to smile more though, quick twitches more than anything else, whenever Daw gives him a second helping at dinner. It's encouraging though, especially to Yung. Although, if Daw has to describe Kai in one word, it'd probably be twitchy. Or maybe nervous? The kid's tiny, and Daw has no doubts that the only reason the boy's scraped by for so long is that his size is levelled out by his speed. Or his knowledge of hiding places.
Either way, Daw makes sure to give Kai extra large helpings, and the boy wolfs them down every time, his legs dangling over the rim of his chair, his feet just scraping the floor.
Kai hasn't been put into the formal chore rotation ―cleaning, cooking, laundry, lookout, more cleaning, more cooking, even more laundry, inventory, and then cleaning again― but eventually Zaheer decides Kai's spent enough time swabbing the deck, so Kai comes into the kitchen for the first time. It's a small space, compared to the dining hall that's slowly becoming slightly cramped. The wood burning stove is tucked away in the corner, with slabs of wooden countertops littered in marks from knives, and a vast array of sloping cupboards set on top. Chipped bowls and plates and cutlery are stacked in teetering piles, and beyond that is the pantry, filled to the brim with bread and cheese and spices and everything in between.
Kai fidgets when he enters, and Daw wonders for a moment if the kid's ever been around so much food in his life. "You ever chopped vegetables before?" Daw asks gently, and Kai nods.
"Kind of," the boy shrugs.
"Well, this'll be a good chance to practice," Daw smiles. "Just be careful, we don't want you getting hurt."
Kai slowly picks up the knife, and Daw wonders if anyone's ever told him that before. Kai's chopped vegetables (most of them are tomato-bananas) are lumpy and uneven, but that's more than alright. They're pirates and it's stew and for most of them being picky has never been an option.
"Good job," Daw tells him, peering over Kai's narrow shoulders. The cook picks up the chopping board with the vegetables and lets them spill into the stew.
"Really?" Kai asks doubtfully.
"Really," Daw confirms, and Kai smiles a little. "I'm gonna cook some meat and chop that up, but I made some cookies earlier and you can put the chocolate chips in if you want. Just give each cookie a few."
The cookie tray is full of soft squashy brown dough in fat circular shapes, ready to go inside the oven once Kai's finished administering the chocolate. Kai hesitates after he wrestles open the orange packaging of the chocolate chips, his hand hovering over the bag. Daw glances away from the meat he has grilling in the pan towards Kai.
"Something wrong?" Daw says curiously.
"No," Kai says quickly. "Just...I used to steal cookies. Sometimes. 'Cause they were small, so I could get away with it, but..." He rubs the back of his neck, something Daw has come to know (from word of Yung) is a nervous or awkward gesture. "I've never had someone cook for me before. Not really."
"My mother taught me how to cook," Daw says with a smile. "She didn't have the best health, and I was the oldest with my father at work, so I grew up cooking for my younger siblings. Now I just cook for a much larger family. I'm blessed, very blessed."
"So..." the word sits in Kai's mouth. "You think of the crew as a family too? It's not just Yung?"
Daw nods. "Not just Yung. We may not be a regular family with a mom and dad, but we're like a bunch of brothers. Even if Captain Zaheer is kinda scary sometimes."
Kai meets his eye and then drops his gaze, turning back to the cookies, seemingly needing some kind of distraction. It's clear to Daw that emotions and opening up is hardly Kai's strong suit. "I guess that makes sense."
Daw wonders if Kai had any brothers, or siblings. What happened to them if he did. He thinks about his younger siblings, especially his little brother, how Jano would always beg for Daw to let him eat cookies for dinner or lick the batter bowl clean. "Tell you what," Daw crouches down so he's on Kai's eye-level, and jabs a thin finger towards the cookie tray. "Once the cookies are done, you get first dibs."
Kai's lips twitch upwards, and his eyes flicker in between Daw's smiling face and cookies, looking almost like he's going to argue, but he nods slightly. "Okay."
After dousing the cookies in a healthy helping of chocolate chips, and waiting eagerly while they bake in the oven, Kai helps himself to the biggest, fattest one, and stuffs it greedily in his mouth, his eyes alight with happiness. He's acting like a kid for once.
Daw can't wait to tell Yung.
The stew is boiling and the rest of the cookies have been put in a tin for later, him and Kai cleaning up a bit of the kitchen, Daw telling or showing him where everything goes, when there's a soft meow at his ankle. A black cat with white around her face is rubbing against his leg, and Daw grins as he reaches down to scratch at the cat's ears.
"This is Whiskers," Daw explains, glancing at Kai. "I'm not sure if you two have met yet. She doesn't like a noise and she takes a while to warm up to strangers."
Kai stoops and gets on his knees, reaching out tentatively. Whiskers regards him with dark eyes for a moment, before she lets his fingers run over her coat and scratch under her chin, purring softly. "I think she likes me," Kai says with a smile. "I've always liked animals."
"They like you right back then," Daw says, but wags his finger at Whiskers. "I don't have any treats for you today, if that's what you've come for, silly cat."
If cats can give pirates (or frankly anyone) reproachful looks, than that's what Whiskers gives Daw. She lets Kai scratch under her chin a little more, licks Kai's fingers, and then walks out of the dining hall, probably to find a new napping place or to use her litter box, or to catch some of the remaining sunlight up on deck.
"Can you go tell everyone dinner's ready?" Daw asks, and Kai nods.
"Sure." The boy races up the stairs, still with the trace of a smile on his face, which persists throughout dinner even. It makes Daw grin, even more so when he sees how, for the first time since Kai had come onboard, Yung actually looks content. Progress is being made, slowly but surely.
Then again, there's not a doubt in Daw's mind that Yung didn't know it wouldn't be easy. The first mate just knew it would be worth it.
Ryu has never had a little brother, and quite frankly, now that he knows what it's like to have Kai, he's glad he didn't have one growing up. Ryu can't believe the sass, mostly little comments Kai will snark under his breath, but still. It's annoying, and unnecessary. Ryu just wants to finish his chores so he can nap, or eat, or both. Both is always good. He's 17, for God's sake. He doesn't want to put up with this pint-sized smartass.
He's one of the closest in age to Kai though, Bansi being 16 and Nidhi and Po are both 15 (Po's loud enough for the both of them) and among the four of them, Ryu's been here the longest, which still isn't that long. Only 3 years, but long enough he knows the ins and outs of things far better than Bansi, who's more interested in his music than his chores, and Nidhi and Po are too busy making art and repairing parts of the ship with the latter's excellent carpenter skills.
So, of course, Ryu's the scapegoat. Why does the universe hate him? He just wants to sleep.
Which is exactly why he's irritated when he sees Kai's fallen asleep in the middle of swabbing the deck, using the mop to keep himself upright. Not bothering to be gentle, Ryu smacks the kid upside the back of his head. "Hey, snoozles, you sleep after your job is done."
Kai jumps, startles and then rubs the back of his head, shooting Ryu a glare. "You didn't have to do it so hard," he snaps, and then angrily continues on with his chore. "I've been hit enough for a lifetime, thank you very much."
Ryu feels a pang of guilt. Oh yeah. Yung had something along those lines. He's quiet because he's not comfortable, and his body's healing from abuse and malnutrition, so try to take it easy on him. Be friendly too. We want him to trust us.
Kai's eyes widen as he seems to realize what he's said, and abruptly shuts his mouth and turns his back on Ryu, as if ashamed. Well great, now Ryu feels uncomfortable, awkwardness lodging in his throat. He had done something without thinking and he's sure it had brought back some unpleasant memories, because unlike with everyone else on the ship, none of them know a thing about Kai.
They know he was found in Omashu, they know he's been alone for a while. Possibly forever. It's written on his body in scars, in flinches, in tiny smiles. He's been hurt. Badly. Ryu's never been the best at bandaging people up ―that's Longshot's expertise, or maybe Yung, or maybe even Po and Nidhi who despite their youth can craft amazing furniture out of scraps of wood― but he supposes maybe he can be a little gentler.
"Sorry," Ryu manages out. "I won't do it again."
Kai pauses in his mopping, his tight grip on the mop handle loosening. "Alright," he says quietly.
They swab the rest of the deck in silence, and once it's time for their afternoon break, Ryu stows away their mops on the top shelf of the small storage section of the on-deck weapons room, before Kai can even struggle to reach it.
"Thanks," Kai says, surprised.
Ryu shrugs. "Don't worry about it." He smiles, which is a rare thing, as frowns are far more common, and Kai returns it slightly. Maybe they do have something in common.
Maybe having some kind of little brother wouldn't be all that bad, after all.
Still, Ryu's cursing every god he knows when he wakes up to the sound of screaming in the night. If they're being raided become someone fell asleep on lookout, or someone couldn't watch where they were going and fell, he's gonna―
Kai. He was screaming. Now he's shaking, sitting upright in his bed as whoever is closest to the candle set in the grate in the wall is starting to light the others along the room. Yung's already by the boy's side, the first mate's face wide and urgent and staring at Kai, who's bowed his head.
"I'm fine I'm fine I'm sorry just go back to sleep it was just a bad dream I'm okay―" Kai's muttering, his face burning up with shame and Yung's shaking his head, placing his hands on Kai's trembling shoulders.
"You're not." Yung's voice is quiet and gentle, as Kai curls in on himself and Yung tries to get the boy to look him in the eye. Yung grasps at the back of Kai's night shirt, which is far too big for him, trying to pull him out of the way he has his face buried in his knees.
Yung manages to get Kai to go to the kitchen.
It's been nearly two and a half weeks since Kai had joined the crew, and Ryu wonders, since the nightmare most likely has something to do with it, if Kai will finally start opening up about whatever got him on the streets. About what happened to him in general. An hour or so later, the candles have been snuffed again and whatever muttering or whispers that had risen among their half of the crew has died down. Ryu can hear Lefty's snores a few beds over when the door creaks open and Yung, looking sad and tired and frustrated all at the same time, comes back into the room with a sullen Kai in tow.
Ryu doubts Kai opened up. This is the first nightmare, though.
It's not the last. The nightmares are sporadic, sometimes three times a week, sometimes less, often more. Kai tries to keep them quiet, but most pirates are typically light sleepers, needing to be ready to defend themselves from a nighttime raid, or some other dangerous incident, so even his best efforts to bite back the first of the screams, once he's fully awake, don't really work.
Kai never cries though. Doesn't ever look anything beyond ashamed or frustrated, with flashes of hurt flickering underneath just like the candles adorning the walls after another one of his nightmares.
It's not like none of them get nightmares. Getting stabbed or other close calls have a tendency to be relived, but it's never common enough, never loud enough, to be an issue. There's hardly any screaming. Heart sinking, Ryu wonders what exactly Kai's been through to warrant such violent nightmares that haunt him nearly every night.
The men don't mean for it to happen, but the lack of sleep starts affecting them too. Nidhi falls asleep on his brother Po's shoulder in the middle of lunch, Lefty dozes off by the steering wheel a few times, and even Yung is rubbing at his eyes. Kai, amazingly, seems to be the least affected, but Ryu supposes when it's something he's dealt with for so long his body's just adjusted to it.
Zaheer eventually figures out what's happening and demands a reason. Yung's the one who tells him, making sure that the Captain can't even look at the boy much less glare at him afterwards, Kai carefully tucked away behind the first mate, who remains in a protective stance throughout the conversation, speaking rationally and calmly even as Zaheer's scowl grows deeper and fiercer.
The Captain's fuming once Yung's explanation is finished. "Well, isn't that lovely?! So what do you suppose we do? I can't have my men falling asleep at all hours of the day because of some stupid―"
Kai flinches when Zaheer gestures wildly with one scarred hand, and suddenly Ryu can't take it anymore.
"He could sleep in another room," Ryu suggests. Zaheer pauses, and then turns his glare on Ryu, arching one thick eyebrow. Ryu ducks his head, suddenly meek but refusing to stay silent. "We must have a spare room. Doesn't have to be big."
Yung's eyes light up. "The cabin boy's room, we use it for storage only. Has thick walls. It'd be perfect."
Zaheer slowly lowers his hand, curling and uncurling his fingers. "I...suppose that could work."
Ryu's tasked with cleaning it out alongside Yung, Bansi, Appa, and Imaru. (Kai's on cooking duty again with Daw.) The real job is cleaning the room out, more than moving any of Kai's possessions (two: his bed and a few clothes, neither of which were originally his) into the room. Yung finds an old camera and tosses it into one of their crates along with some outdated star charts that may still make a fair penny to some fancy old collector, and Imaru takes one of the vases they found, excitedly talking of putting a new flower in it. Appa places Kai's bed in the room with ease, and sets it down with a gentleness one would have found unbelievable from a man so big.
Kai, on the other hand, is the opposite. He's so tiny. So breakable. Ryu wonders how many times a boy no older than 10 can fall apart.
He just hopes, with Yung and the rest of their help, they can figure out a way to put him back together.
Yung is the last one to turn in for the night, everyone else having already gone to bed hours ago, when he ambles into the kitchen in search of a glass of water. Instead, he finds Kai passed out, with his head using the dining room table as a pillow, snoring softly. Yung can't help but smile softly, especially when he sees Whiskers curled up under Kai's chair, her eyes shining in the darkness as she sits as a kind of silent guardian. (She's taken to Kai much more quickly than anyone anticipated.)
It isn't often he gets to see the 9-year-old looking so peaceful, or quiet. Yung wonders how the boy ended up here. Nightmares, maybe? He knows Kai gets them, and it's the reason he was moved from the main sleeping quarters to the old cabin boy's room. At any rate, Yung's glad to see him sleeping soundly. He hates the idea of disturbing him, but knows his body and neck will be stiff and awkward if he sleeps like that the whole night.
Yung sighs and sends up a quick prayer that Kai won't wake up as he walks over to the boy, and cautiously, carefully, pulls Kai into his arms. The boy's lighter than he expected, but still knows that Kai has gained a good deal of much needed weight in the four weeks he's been with the crew. Luckily, Kai doesn't stir, and Yung takes in the bags under with his closed eyes with a frown. Balancing his duty as first mate, and having Zaheer breathing down his neck to find a new medic, and still helping Kai adjust to his new life hadn't been easy, but had Yung really started neglecting the boy?
He'll do a better job of looking after him, Yung promises himself. This boy is his responsibility, even if Kai doesn't really want to be, even if most of the crew, Zaheer included, still thinks he's absolutely insane.
Kai curls into Yung slightly, his fingers grasping at the fabric of Yung's sleeves, and Yung thinks once, someone must have loved Kai. The kid's parents, even when he was just a baby. A sibling maybe. Or a friend. He must have had someone, once. Someone who treated him properly ―someone who loved him the way everyone deserves to be loved. Yung doesn't know what hurts more: being unsure if anyone ever did, or knowing someone did but the world hurt Kai enough to leave him so hurt and bleeding.
Yung carries Kai over to the small cabin boy's room and lays him down on the unkempt bed. The rest of Kai's room is much neater, seeing as there isn't really anything in there other than the bed and a dresser that's not even half full with a few full outfits of clothing. He's never seen the boy look so peaceful, or so young. Usually Kai's eyes let him forget that the boy is only 9 years old.
Yung thinks back to the other week, when Kai had had his first nightmare and Yung had coaxed him out of the sleeping quarters and into the dining hall. Sat him down with a hot chocolate and pleading, gentle eyes, wanting him to open up. Wanting him to feel safe enough to do so. But Kai had just stared blankly at the table, the boy's green eyes void of any light, full of shame and fury and something else, something that aches, simmering underneath like a storm rolling over the horizon. Yung doesn't want Kai to drown in it, but he can't pull him to a lifeboat all by himself. Kai needs to accept the help. And that, if anything, is one of the most heartbreaking things about it.
But here, Kai looks safe. Damaged maybe, but safe, as he snuggles into his pillow and Yung smiles.
"I'm going to take care of you," he whispers, gently, ever so gently, brushing back tufts of Kai's hair from his forehead, so as not to wake up. Not to break him when he's already so fragile, underneath the armour. "I know it's hard for you to believe that. I know you've been on your own for a long time. But you're not alone anymore. I promise."
He hopes Kai hears him. He thinks maybe he does, since the boy's lips curve upwards in a small, sleepy smile.
Yung goes back to the kitchen for a glass of water and finds Daw rummaging around in the pantry. "Why're you up?" the cook yawns, a bottle of spice in one hand.
Yung raises his glass of water in answer. "Found Kai at the dining room table."
"Nightmares?" Daw guesses. Although the pirate sleeps in the other half of the sleeping quarters across the hall, Yung knows that Lefty or Ryu or one of the others must have told him. News spreads in a matter of minutes on the ship (both a blessing and a curse).
"Won't open about them," Yung says, nearly grumbling. "But yeah."
"It'll come in time," Daw reassures him, placing a hand on Yung's shoulder.
"It's just the way he looked at me," Yung says softly, his voice growing sad. Daw mulls over Yung's words for a moment, and jerks his head towards the kettle. Soon, they have steaming mugs of tea sitting in front of them as they sit across from each other at the dining table, and the cook gestures for his friend to continue.
So Yung swallows hard, and keeps on talking. "It was so...empty. But also angry, and fearful. Like he's waiting for me to ask something of him. Like I can't just help him because I want to, like I have to want something else."
"I don't think he's known much kindness," Daw says, before taking a sip of his tea. "Besides, you're asking quite a lot from him."
Yung's brow furrows. "I am?"
"You're asking him to trust you. I have a feeling he's been stabbed in the back before―perhaps figuratively and literally. He's young but he's hurt. You gotta give him time. He'll open up, eventually. You think my little brother and sisters always told me everything right away?" Daw smiles, and Yung has a hunch he's thinking back to his childhood. "No, but they always confided in me eventually. Better late than never, right?"
Yung nods. "Right. You're right...I just―I'm in way over my head," Yung admits weakly. "I don't regret it, but I have no idea what I'm doing. I never had any little siblings, I never thought I'd have kids, and now I'm...He's not gonna be easy." Daw nods. "He'll be worth it though. Somehow."
"Lemme tell you something about kids," Daw finishes his tea and sets his mug down. "My brother, Jano, we all thought he'd never settle down, but then he got his girl pregnant and he kinda got wrangled into it. And now his kids are the light of his life, and only one of them can talk yet. When you have a kid, your life's not your own anymore. It's shared. It's secondary to whoever your kid's life is. You're gonna be the cornerstone of this kid's world. You're gonna be Kai's constant. The first one he's ever had, probably. It'll give you meaning, 'cause you give him meaning. People help people, all the time, in all sorts of ways. What makes the world go round when all you want is for it to stop."
Yung finds tears pooling in the corner of his eyes. "When you'd get so wise?" Yung asks fondly.
Daw shrugs and smiles. "Good food and advice. My only two specialties."
At that, Yung shakes his head and chuckles. "Nah. You're a good friend too." Daw inclines his head, accepting the compliment. "What were you doing up, anyway?"
"Looks like you didn't realize how late it is. It's nearly six in the morning. You know I start getting breakfast ready earlier than anyone," Daw explains.
Yung rises from the table. "Want some help with it?"
Daw joins him and they both grin. "'Course."