A/N: Hey guys, sorry about the delay. This weekend I was on a family road trip to the Smoky Mountains in Tennessee and had no access to my laptop. I hope you enjoy!
Chapter 5: Navigating Seas and People
"Oi, men, listen up!"
The pirates paused what they were doing to look at their captain who was grinning widely from beneath his straw hat.
"Once the ship is back in shape, we'll be heading back to the Grand Line. Say goodbye to South Blue, boys. Who's up for a race with our newest marine friends?"
The pirates roared their approval, pumping fists and waving swords, before redoubling their efforts in putting the ship back together.
"Navigator Addams," Beckman called out when the cheering died down enough for his voice to be heard, "please come to the navigation room to set our course."
A pale, thin man equipped with a hammer and nails and standing near the railing waved an arm towards the First Mate with a flat expression, his sunken black eyes blinking slowly in acquiescence.
A moment later the navigator shuffled in, ruffling his dusty hair as he opened the door, ignoring the wizard still perched in the chair who was watching the new person curiously after putting the box of Wrackspurts back into his robes. The man was strangely pale for a pirate, as well as incredibly scrawny. Could he fight at all, or was he just a civilian with a talent for navigation and that had been let on for that purpose? He must be pretty skilled if that was the case.
Beckman closed the door behind him as he entered.
"We're heading to Yappa Island from Route 4, Addams. How fast can you get us there?"
The man pulled out a notebook from the bookshelves and flipped through it rapidly, jamming a thumb in seemingly at random to stop at a certain page.
"Well," the man muttered, "if you just let me use a couple of pirates as bait we could cut across the calm belt by Sea King and I'd have you there in a week."
Beckman chuckled. "That's still a no, Addams. The captain likes his crew intact."
"Cheh, fine," the man muttered, sitting down and grabbing a quill, dipping it into an inkpot with a blood-red liquid and scribbling a series of equations into the notebook. After a moment, he raised his inkpot up and shook it slightly.
"Out of bloodroot, might want to make a stop at Little Garden on the way, then, since the captain won't let me use any of the crew's blood anymore. I should've hidden a marine earlier when I had the chance."
Shanks walked in halfway through the rant and laughed aloud. "Dahaha, still not willing to just store some of the spilt blood from the deck after a fight?"
The navigator glared at the laughing pirate captain. "Blood can only be used as ink when fresh, damned idiot. I've told you that how many times already!"
"Yeah, sure, 'cause it'll koga-late or something."
"Coagulate," came the ground out reply, as more equations were scribbled out until finally the quill left no more marks as it scratched across the page. "Fuck!"
"You can't use your own blood?" Harry finally spoke up. "Or is pain the issue?"
"Pain?" the man wondered aloud. "Yes, that's exactly the problem. You understand so well," he whispered as his breath came steadily quicker in excitement. "Yes, that delicious pain! As soon as I cut into my flesh my mind is cast away from the original purpose and all I can think is to have more torture." He turned towards the wizard with a solemn expression. "It's true what they say, that too much of a good thing is bad for you. I never last long."
"He's a hemophiliac with mild anemia," Beckman explained, "faints from blood loss when he tries to cut himself for ink."
"Why does he need blood anyway?" Harry asked, curious that even a muggle would hold so much stock in the necessity of using such a substance as ink.
"Why blood?" the man exploded in disbelief. "How can you ask such a thing? Blood is the single most fascinating liquid in the world. Its color, its viscosity, its ability to die before your very eyes when you try to contain it in a bottle as if declaring it rather renounce its life than live subdued. The only way to capture it properly is through the thin strokes of a quill or pen upon a page. Writing with blood gives me such a rush! Unfortunately, it's difficult to find a steady, fresh supply of blood every time I need to write, so I stock up on bloodroot whenever possible. Little Garden has the best color – I think it's from the blood constantly soaked in the soil from the battles between those ignorant giants."
"Is Little Garden on the way?" Shanks asked.
The navigator blinked. "Well, not really. We'll lose about three days to swing by."
"Three days!" Shanks exclaimed. "That's the exact amount of time we cannot afford to lose. The marines will stay exactly three days on Bird Island waiting for their log pose to lock onto Yappa. This is a race!"
The navigator glared. "Well there's nothing I can do about that. Either we drop by Little Garden according to the calculations I've already completed or you find me a source of blood so I can make new calculations directly to Yappa!"
"I have an offer for you," Harry interjected, smiling at the strange conversation – honestly, a navigator bargaining for blood to use as ink! – "though the end results will depend heavily on your own self-control."
"Whose self-control?" Addams asked, "Because I don't think he was ever taught the mean of the phrase," he snarked, pointing to Shanks.
"Yours," Harry clarified, ignoring Shanks' indignant cry at the insult. "I have in my possession a very interesting artifact perfectly suited for your needs." From his pocket, the wizard withdrew a Blood Quill. Though he had some rather irritating memories associated with Blood Quills – namely Umbitch – Harry found it useful to carry one on him at all times in case he needed to sign a contract out of the blue; usually a forced secrecy oath with another wizard too nosy for his own good. Without magic though, blood probably had no binding effects like back home so Harry would gladly give it up in a trade.
The wizard handed it over to Addams with a smirk. "Try it out."
Addams raised an eyebrow – and Harry cursed inwardly at the mocking of his own inability to do the same – and replied, "I still don't have any ink."
"Oh, you won't need any ink."
With a dubious expression, the man wrote out his next equation, sucking in his breath as the quill's magic cut into the back of his hand before sealing the wound, leaving no trace except the blood-red writing glistening on the page.
"This is called a Blood Quill, and it's one of a kind," Harry explained before the masochist could get too excited and start scribbling randomly. For a moment, he mentally chuckled at the fact that pretty much everything he carried on his person was now one of a kind in this world. "It draws blood directly from its user, slicing what is written into the hand before sealing instantly. The healing property has limits, however. If you use it continuously for an hour, the bleeding will not stop, and if you write the same thing several thousand times it will eventually scar your hand permanently – hence the need for self-control."
Addams gazed worshipfully at Harry, looking for all the world like a zombie being offered an unlimited supply of brains with his thin, pale face and black bags beneath his eyes.
"In return," Harry continued, when it became apparent that the navigator was at a loss for words, "I wish for you to teach me about the word's geography and some navigation skills. I'm afraid I haven't a clue about how the oceans or islands here are organized, and I've heard there are some incredibly interesting landmarks in the Grand Line."
The man glanced rapidly between the quill and the smirking wizard. "I don't draw world maps," he bit out, licking his lips.
"If details are your specialty, I understand," Harry replied, "but surely a simple sketch and explanation of what most children learn about their world when growing up would be easy enough?"
"Done deal!" Addams exclaimed, and excitedly continued his calculations. The page filled quickly but was mostly unnoticed by the other men in the room in favor of the morbid sight of the skin on Addam's hand opening and closing in a wild, incomprehensible pattern.
"Two weeks," came the conclusion. "Two days to get over Reverse Mountain, a week to cut through Bloom Island, four days to swing around Bird Island – three if we time it well, and a day to sail to Yappa."
"That's our Addagator!" Shanks crowed. "Dahaha! We'll get that fruit first no problem. If the marine's want it, they'll have to take it from us directly!"
The pirate captain left the room laughing in satisfaction.
Harry turned toward Navigator Addams – Addagator indeed – and saw the man pulling out island maps from the shelves and tracing over them with his new quill. Deciding to let the man enjoy his new toy, he followed Beckman out of the room and onto the deck.
"What a frightening item," Beckman commented.
"Painful too," Harry added. "I'm glad to be rid of it. I never thought anyone could enjoy using such a thing, but I guess I just haven't met many hard-core masochists."
Beckman chuckled and lit a new cigarette. "Speaking of meeting people, I noticed you used throwing knives in the fight earlier. Would you be interested in meeting our resident sniper? He usually sets up some target practice right after a battle to test his guns for damage."
Harry perked up at the offer. "I think I saw him during the fight too. He was using pistols, right?"
"Yes, flintlock pistols. Yassop has incredible aim, so the small firearms are surprisingly accurate in his hands. He's probably getting ready on the front deck. He's a bit of a show-off," Beckman smiled, "and the men enjoy the show."
"Brilliant, let's go!"
The pair made their way towards the bow of the ship where a crowd was slowly gathering around a thin man with curly hair and a headband on his forehead with the word YASSOP written across it. He was setting up a few freshly painted bulls-eyes made from broken bits of wood he probably collected during repairs. He had also set up a few tables on which he lined up a series of empty beer bottles.
"Yassop," Beckman greeted.
The man turned around with a grin. "Beckman! Have you come to watch the show?"
"Sure, why not? I brought Harry along as well. He's a knife thrower."
"Really?" Yassop inquired. "How about you strut your stuff a bit, then, Harry? I've got plenty of targets. Let's make a duel of it."
"Oh?" Harry asked with a grin. "I'll take that challenge on."
The pirates cheered at the wizard's acceptance and started a messy chant of "Fight! Fight!" as Harry slipped through the crowd to the 'stage' and helped Yassop rearrange the targets to spread them out a bit more.
"Shall I start us off?" Harry asked.
"Of course! Guests first."
With a flick of his wrist, four knives slipped into each of Harry's hands. He held them for a moment, fanned out between his fingers as he judged the distance before flinging them in rapid-fire succession at the closest bulls-eye, neatly creating a cross. As the knives were flying, the wizard unsheathed a heavier knife with a ring at the end of the hilt and spun it around a few seconds before letting it fly; the blade sunk dead center with a solid thud.
The pirates hooted and cheered in approval at the display as Harry gathered his knives, removing the center one last and twirling it as he bowed to the audience before sheathing it with a flourish.
"Setting the bar pretty high, there. Haven't you ever heard of building up the show into a climax?"
"No worries," Harry replied with a wink. "I've still got plenty more 'building up' waiting in my sleeves. Don't tell me you can't match this?"
Yassop grinned. "Hah! Watch this."
He withdrew both pistols at once, spinning them on his fingers before grasping them tightly, both hands raising up to point in different directions. In less than a minute, every one of the remaining dozen and a half targets had a bullet hole clean through the center.
The cheers were deafening as Yassop pumped his hands into the air in triumph, rousing the crowd with his own shouts.
Harry quickly quieted them down by throwing a single knife into the air and catching it by the blade before tossing it back up and following it up with another. Soon three knives were cycling in his right hand and the band of pirates watched with baited breath for what the man would do next.
The wizard walked up the deck, weaving through the targets before approaching the table with a dozen beer bottles. Striding casually in a parallel line along the table, he threw knives with his juggling hand vertically into the air, replacing each thrown weapon so that he finished with still three knives flying in a circle. To some, it gave the illusion that he had done nothing at all. This illusion shattered when a dozen evenly spaced clinks alerted the pirates to the knives that had slid smoothly through the narrow necks of the bottles to rest lightly at the bottom of the glasses.
Breathless whistling and applause followed this display of casual skill and Harry winked cheekily before vanishing each of his juggled blades one by one with sleight of hand.
"You aren't particularly attached to those knives, are you?" Yassop asked nonchalantly.
"No more than you would be to fired bullets," Harry reassured.
"Good to know," the sniper replied as he raised his reloaded pistols up at shoulder height. The line of bottles exploded into a rain of glass shards in three seconds flat. The last bottle had barely finished shattering when the pistols were smoothly replaced into the belt tied around Yassops waist, the pirate slouching casually like nothing had happened.
The pirates applauded wildly at the explosive demonstration.
Shortly after, Shanks jumped into the target ground from the netting of the front mast where he was watching.
"Sorry to interrupt boys, but we have a pretty nice wind starting. If we take advantage of it now, Reverse Mountain will be just over a day's sail away. What do you say?"
There was some grumbling, but the pirates proved willing and easily scattered to their respective jobs on the ship.
"That was quite a show, Harry," Shanks grinned.
"Thanks," Harry replied, gathering up the targets while Yassop went to fetch a broom for the glass. "Long-range is my preferred method of attack. Although," Harry paused, angling his head downwards so his eyes pierced through the fringe of his hair to lock with Shanks'. "I wouldn't mind getting up close and personal with you."
The wizard walked away chuckling, passing by Yassop who returned with a broom.
"You know, Captain," Harry heard Yassop say; "I've never seen your face color come so close to matching your hair. Everything alright?"
A/N: Woot! The next chapter won't be ready by this weekend, sorry, but I've got some deleted scenes you might enjoy and I'll post those if you're interested.
Thanks again to my wonderful beta, Indifferent Nobody! She's a wonder, really.
Laughingoutloud: Thanks for the review! Originally, I meant execution as in my ability to write this story properly, but since you brought up the topic of Ace's execution, I might as well say that I care much less about sticking to canon in this story than in my other. Shanks will still lose his arm, because I think it's an important sacrifice for him, but I'm brainstorming a reasonable way to save Ace's life 'cause I hated that he died and Luffy's not the main character in my fic anyway :(
73 reviews, August 9, 2011!