Chapter 4:

Kurt Pierce

"Sir? Are you alright?"

The chilly water sloshed and churned beneath him, and the cold biting the ex-captain's skin was being yanked up to the very hairs on his arms by the morning wind. The weather had been placid and sunny until the sky began to form grayish lumps to feed the trees that dotted the distant coast with its potential rain. Billowing clouds had swept over the once radiant sun rays, but Kuro's eyes didn't darken a bit—in fact, his face lit up with opportunity at the sight of this wayward boater.

"… Hello?" The stranger blinked impatiently, and she moved her head around, attempting to lock eyes. "Sir? I'm speaking to you. Can't you hear a thing?"

"Oh—oh, thank goodness," Kuro lauded with a persuasive sigh, throwing his head back as he built an impression. "I thought I'd be here all day."

"Good. You heard me after all." Her hands were already lying on her hips. "Are you hurt?"

"Minimally." He gently slid his hand across his quickly scabbing forearm. "Though I think I'm fine."

"You want a ride, don't you?"

"Please," he groaned.

Her hand rudely tapped onto her speedboat's side, "Well, come on, then."

He carefully fell to a wayward strip of the deck to meet her eye level, and his weight made it rock gently. As a potential threat she appeared unimpressive and like any other harmless civilian who would otherwise be a victim to his calculated plundering. Her custard-colored hair was pulled back messily into a wavy and twisted ball, and the two loosely curled tresses hanging on the sides of her face wobbled slightly with each and every head movement. At the moment, her eyes were alert-looking and focused, but would appear lethargic otherwise. Her appearance told a story like anyone else's, but not necessarily a story he cared about. What truly mattered was that her odd engine murmured and the coast was simply a few words away.

"Ah, now I have a good look at you. Gee…" The woman lowered her chin. Her black eyebrows raised for a moment. They were massive, solid and flatly pressed—the way they contrasted the lightness of her hair made it even more noticeable. "You look miserable. As sick as a dog."

He felt her eyes burn into his pale complexion and haggard expression as she rolled her gaze over the thin body that his previously clean dress shirt was plastered to.

"'Sick as anybody else who got blown out of a window and landed in a pool of junk," Kuro replied bitterly, slightly altering his voice, and coughed up an unflattering mix of salt water and phlegm into his fist.

"I'm glad that at least somebody here is alive. I'd like to know what happened."

He was hesitant to hold reservations towards a helping hand, but his lack of trust was even greater. Fishing for answers was flaky. Shouldn't there be more sympathy? More soft-hearted nonsense that preceded that impartial curiosity?

He pursed his lips, "You don't need to know the specifics."

"Hm. Alright then." Her voice held noticeable disappointment that failed to be masked. "I'll figure it out..."

The mere fact that this woman was haughty enough to think that she could catch onto his entire catastrophe was met with irritation. Who does she think she is? Did it matter at all? There was one shining, golden opportunity beneath it all, and that was the opportunity to never be chased by the Marines, and to never have to coddle his foolish crew again for as long as he lived. Kuro never loved his men, but he loved his decoys, and he loved his incisive mind and its development of the cold willingness to disregard human life. This was the opportunity to not blunder ever again, and he held arrogant faith in his own perfection even when it was chewed out. He had to get to land.

"I… Would like some help, though." He gestured to one of his ribs and rubbed on it convincingly. "I'm rather shocked by this entire thing."

"I can bring you ashore. It's the least I can do. I mean, this doesn't really happen every day."

"You have my gratitude."

He lowered his head and fixed his shirt collar which had so annoyingly been stuck to his neck. The small boat sidled towards him, with a touch of hesitance.

"Come on, sit up, in the back here."

"I can get up, thank you," Kuro assured her, moving himself onto the alternative seat and sitting with his back to her to elevate his legs and distance himself. He dared not face this stranger, and didn't feel like engaging in much interaction beyond what was necessary.

"I'll keep it steady for a while until you're comfortable with the speed. If I'm not a complete idiot—which I'm not, I assure you—I'd think you're used to a ship instead."

There was clear audacity in her voice, and he wasn't sure whether she was being so supercilious due to being a show-off or to make her passenger relieved. Kuro remained silent, staring at his ship's remains, like broken pieces of himself and all of his schemes. He wasn't decisive on whether this was a liberating visual or one that completely and utterly disturbed him.

"Strange morning," he heard the driver mumble, tapping her thin fingers, rounded and short—her hands made her cylindrical wrists look a tad too small in comparison. She rolled back her shoulders to stretch. It was surely a strange morning for a befuddled mastermind as well. He leaned forward and rested his elbows on his knees, watching the small ripples from the engine stream in front of him, leaving its foamy tails to dissipate and cut through the blue. Clouds covered the sunlight and a blanket of shadow was cast over them.

"I appreciate that you offered a seat." The shivering man rubbed some stray water droplets off of his arm. "What's your name?"

The woman turned her head.

"That depends. My last name's Nerz." The stranger pressed lightly on the throttle. "Though people around here usually call me by my first."

"What is it?"

"Nelle." The boater, now apparently Nelle, had a change in voice, and her eyes narrowed from a gust of wind. "Now… Who are you?"

He raised his head a bit, "Kurt."

Kuro tasted the name on his tongue. Almost immediately, his eyebrows furrowed after his sudden, impulsive answer and he wanted to gag on it: it was so close to his real name. His instinct generated a story, "Kurt, from the Pierce family, far away from here."

The normally sly man found the slip unbelievable and made the mental excuse that the previous night was still in effect. But there was no going back. As usual, he was a liar, and a notoriously good one who knew how to coax the tone of his voice with a gentle strain of accuracy. His true family wasn't far in actuality, and they didn't lie in another Blue, but right in the East, where Kuro had formed his pirating career for at least a decade.

"Oh, how sad," mumbled Nelle. "But your family should be relieved that you're alright, when the news comes around."

News? News was a terrible word. News was what destroyed him. His techniques were all about secrets, and news that only he could be aware of. News never kept him safe.

The woman rolled her hand over the throttle while her boat sauntered slowly, still occasionally wading through debris, though its numbers were getting low and scattered.

"It's nice to meet you, Mr. Pierce. The Pierce family..." she murmured. "Don't they make silverware? …"

A silence followed and he heard the dull tap of her foot as it pushed away a soggy plank. He caught on to light swishing, and quickly realized that it was from her trying to shake a soppy, dark bandana off of her ankle. He saw her mouth curve into a disgusted expression, after she took a few moments to observe its pattern. A cold, tense feeling washed over him.

"You're a… A pirate, aren't you?"

No response. Nelle continued, noticeably pushing for one:

"There are some pirating families I've heard about. Your people are quite infamous… Aren't they?"

The ex-captain's eyes rolled. Infamous! Of course, this was the East Blue, and he knew it all too well. Everyone and their mother thought that any pirate was something to talk about.

"You're asking that for affirmation on something you already know, I see." His voice was edged with agitation. "I don't need to tell you anything about that."

"…You're lucky that I'm helping you without any expectations, you know," the boater frowned sourly. "Oh well. You're the most down-and-out man I've seen in a long while. It could always be worse. You can find a fine job here near the piers. As if you can do anything else." She narrowed her eyes, failing to turn back to look him in his own. "So, what was your duty on that ship? What'd you do on it? Were you important?"

"I was tactical. I assisted the captain in planning. But he's dead now, so I've got no use."

He was dead. That was an aspect that Kuro could willingly celebrate, but his hastiness could be his downfall. If the Marines somehow sniffed out Naishi from the analysis, he would become more vulnerable than he had ever been before: crewless, jobless, and mostly penniless. Somehow, he had to assimilate, and at his core, he would want nothing more. After all, his twisted methods and flawed logic in attempting to tailor the perfect life in Syrup Town was a lost cause that violently escaped him. Villainy became difficult when people stuck their nose where it surely never belonged. Stepping out of his comfort zone was always difficult, as he often created one out of the very social environment that he molded and manipulated. His current situation was precarious and newly born out of a complete disaster, and this was surely unusual.

"Oh. You're really not some layman after all."

Her fingers drummed on one of the handlebars. Perhaps this woman was smarter than the average fool. Even so, Kuro clearly had no clue as to what her background was, nor her line of work, and this made him somewhat uncomfortable, and he would be far more at ease after extracting more information.

Nelle's foot pushed away another stray bobbing plank. He watched her scope water for any remaining obstacles, craning her neck from side to side and narrowing her leaden eyes. They were drawn to a black mass that was billowing in the water, and she would soon be approaching it. It was none other than the Black Cat flag that had been blown far astray, and it was floating and bubbling beneath a thin film of foam, away from Kuro's sight. As he looked to his side, he saw his chauffeur's body tense out of the corner of his eye, but he was unknown to the reason.

The woman inhaled. According to the press, Black Cats were a cunning and notoriously sadistic bunch. If this was a learned civilian, it gave him more incentive to become alert, as much as his body was telling him to relax and crumple up onto a mattress, or, quite indiscriminately, on the body of this small boat.

"Let me check your eyes."

With a sharp swivel, the former captain turned to her and responded with defense: "Why?"

"I was just… Wondering if the seawater damaged them any, or if they burned, if it… Even if they don't, you can still run into trouble," Nelle insisted upon it.

"I'm sure I'd know. They burned, but the feeling's mostly disappeared."

A few of Kuro's fingers lightly held his chin. He stared at the way she was eying him, the way she suddenly took interest in an examination—it was unusual.

"Well, you were swimming around in water mixed with the of blood of people… That could be full of disease. Don't you think that's a bit…Unhygienic? You know, these parts are known for their sea parasites. You'd get a terrible infection if I don't see to it." Her posture elevated. "I have antibacterial drops at home. I want to see if you need them. I, uh… Well, come on," she said as patience eluded her."Let me see them."

He didn't expect her to be attempting to milk his uncertainty. However, these so-called 'sea parasites' were about as real as the tall tales that one would find in children's books.

"Alright," Kuro complied, his general indifference masking any sort of critical worry. What could possibly be the harm? "Take a look, then. I hope you're some kind of doctor."

He turned his body around to face her when she stopped the engine, and the boat wiggled a bit at his movement.

She lightly raised his lids. The woman's eyes were suddenly cutting into him, detached from human concern, looking at him like a machine. What she saw were irises that were lead-colored and smoky, holding an immense amount of darkness in the pupils that seemed to go leagues beneath their surfaces. There wasn't a touch of gentle to his visage besides his smoother features, and the shape of his lids made his eyes look narrow and calculating. His identity was also discernible in the way he moved them about quickly and keenly, like a dangerous animal uncomfortable at having intrusive hands so close to its face.

The boater was to face to face with the beleaguered vessel's Captain, lying through his teeth and feigning helplessness. Most civilians would have already read of Kuro of One Hundred Plans once or twice, perhaps even more than that due to the crimes he ran through, and throughout the years he had been active, his plans were mostly executed with deadly precision and cold objectivity. More likely than not, she had read about him, and had seen his dispassionate face in headlines.

"Me? A doctor, you said?" A nervous inflection escaped her as she finally replied. "I'm not—no. Heavens, no. Of course not. I'm an inventor… A mechanical engineer." Her voice grew quieter with every title. It was as if an imaginary force was clenching her neck. "I know a few… Nautical folks. I've heard of stories of eye infections. Disgusting. … Your eyes, they look fine."

Her own were slightly large for her round and thinnish face, with black little irises like drops of ink in their middles, as equally dark as the eyebrows above them. Along with the rounded bulb of her nose, she looked closest to a ferret or a mink or a weasel. Her body was shaped in such a way that she also behaved the part. Underneath her eyes were subtly sunken lines: a sure indicator of someone who slept little and worked in excess.

"Hm," Kuro gave a tired, indifferent response, resting his chin on his shoulder. "How far away do you live from here?"

"It'll be another ten minutes."

The man distracted himself again by watching the sea foam trail from the boat's engine. "I see. Good news."

"My humble abode is less than a mile from the outer strip of Milltown's port."

"How convenient…"

Though he had found it useful for a less than innocent reason, and images of plunder filled his thoughts: but he had to stop himself. He had lusted after its treasures held within the many ships that came and went, and before the disaster, his prime objective was to raid it and suck it dry of its wealth. But he had nothing now, and it was no use to entertain it so soon.

Minutes and minutes of silence passed. The most eventful things during that lapse were a flock of gulls passing by squawking amongst themselves, and the sun glaring in his eyes.

Then the boater spoke up.

"Mr. Pierce. You don't have anybody you know here, do you?"

"No one."

"… There's something you should consider." Her head tilted to the side, facing the sun, her expression completely away from view.

He blinked and rubbed one of his eyelids groggily.

"Oh? Do tell."

"I have a hunch, that…" Her palms pressed onto the handlebars, her fingers stretching. "You could find a job that has your name all over it."

"What makes you say that?"

"I have no idea." The engineer careened the boat away from a cutting wave. "Other than how you strike me as an intelligent man."

An exploitative twinkle glimmered in this stranger's eye—or, maybe it was just a stray fleck of seawater tricking his eyes.

"A job, already? I don't know about that," Kuro's eyebrows lowered with suspicion.

"Oh, yes—I'm sorry. It's too soon, isn't it?"

"Wait a moment," he ordered and lifted his chin. "What are you getting at?"

The boat slowed a bit.

"Well," she hawed. "You see, I've been looking for someone to, uh, employ. It's a hot job around here. Trust me on that one."

"Hot?" His lip curved at the word, and he was more perplexed and curious than anything.

"Yes. In demand. Promising. Needed," she listed. "Profitable. Why, it's the whole nine yards, Mr. Pierce!"

"And what exactly is this?" Kuro's voice grew sharp, almost grainy-sounding, contrary to his normally urbane voice.

"It'll require some explanation on my part. I suppose you'd rather hear of it when you're more settled. I'll tell you when we reach my place if you'd like… As long as you stay so agreeable."

"Very well," he muttered, tired resignation overtaking his need to disagree. "I just want a place to rest."

Kuro rested his chin on his knuckles and his dark eyes got lost within the water once again. He hadn't a clue as to where he was going to go and who exactly he was to meet, but he was beyond a state of panic. The peculiar feeling of distress mixed with the prediction of an impending death fled him as soon as the deadening silence of the wreck left him alone.

For whatever reason, his life was to continue.