A/N: Uhhh... yeah. Sorry.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Six-Styles
"Vice Admiral?" chorused the pirates in question. What was a Vice Admiral doing in East Blue? Harry frowned as well. From what he remembered of the readings and several government pamphlets extolling the virtues of joining the Marines in the war against pirate scum, Vice Admiral was a very high position, second only to Admirals and, of course, the Fleet Admiral. Vice Admirals almost never left the Grand Line.
"Rock-Aniki," the warrant officer nodded towards the newcomer's direction. Harry raised his eyebrows, though none could see as he was still disillusioned. These men were brothers? Other than the striking blue eyes, the two couldn't look more different. This did, however, somewhat explain the high ranking officer's presence. Visiting family during vacation was not unusual behavior.
"Johnny, what have I told you? Call me Roxy," his brother returned, winking lasciviously in Shanks' general direction.
"Rock-Aniki," was the ground out reply, "forgive me if I choose not to encourage your disgusting okama tendencies despite Uncle's indifference."
The vice admiral frowned prettily. "You know Father sees you as a son more than a nephew. And I wish you wouldn't compare me to that rather revolting revolution. I've yet to meet a single okama of the so called 'Okama Way' with a decent sense of fashion or beauty. Although, Ivankov has a very nice body when he desires it."
"Enough!" the younger Blue marine snapped. "What are you doing here, Aniki?"
The elder snorted, holding a hand to his nose daintily as if to cover-up such an unlady-like sound. "What am I doing here? The better question is just what do you think you're doing here? You know the rules about marines from the four Blues attacking documented Grand Line pirates. You've got the latest handbook memorized by now."
"I sent a report," came the stiffly delivered explanation. "Red-Hair is in possession of marine property so I deemed it necessary to attempt retrieval of it myself."
The elder Blue's eyes narrowed. "Don't think you can fool me, little brother. I'll bet you haven't even told the pirate just what it is you're looking for, has he dear?" The latter part of the question was directed towards Shanks, accompanied by fluttering eyelashes. The man had a pretty face, true, but it was still a bit disturbing considering his well-built stature.
Shanks grinned in amusement over this strange conversation that had brought the battle to a standstill. "'Fraid not, Vice Admiral," he answered with a tilt of his straw hat and a wink. Harry wanted to smack him. Flirting with gay male Vice Admiral Marines when you were an infamous straight male pirate captain was not a good idea no matter which way you looked at the situation.
"There, you see?" Rock 'Roxy' Blue sniffed, tossing back his hair so it caught the gleam of sunshine. "Now, I don't particularly care what you were thinking, nor if you even plan on backing off permanently, but you're leaving off for today. I received orders, during my vacation time, from headquarters to tell you that they don't approve of you going after a Yonkou just for some property."
"Yonkou? What the hell are you talking about?" replied Johnny Blue, finally yelling with irritation at the unwelcome interruption. "And it's not just any property. That bastard got a hold of a – !"
"I don't care! As for being a Yonkou, that's his new nickname in the Grand Line Paradise and West Blue. I guess it hasn't spread out to these parts yet. Not to mention, there's still some debate as to whether or not it's four, or three, or five emperors. Now stop stalling!"
Grumbling, Warrant Officer Blue jumped into the air and kicked off until he reached the marine ship. "We're retreating. Let's go."
"Hai, Warrant Officer Blue!" chorused the marines, and the ship sailed off.
"So sorry about all this lovey," the remaining Blue piped up from his place in his rowboat. "I hope we never see each other again," he continued, with a tight smile, "so long now." The two low-rank marines paddled the rowboat away as the vice admiral glared at the Red-Hair pirate ship with his piercing blue eyes until he was too far away to see anymore.
"Alright, men, time to clean up the ship," Beckman called out, and began to direct the crew around to patch holes, swab the blood off the deck and railings, and move the injured to better resting quarters.
"Heee," Shanks hummed, wiping his blade of blood before sheathing it, "that was interesting. A Vice Admiral in East Blue who ignored me and a Warrant Officer of East Blue who's stronger than any marine ought to be while still left behind from Grand Line recruitment. I wonder what style that was."
"Rokushiki."
Harry started, then realized the answer came from Spaz, who was still disillusioned, and he quickly cast a finite to bring them both back into view.
"He's a practitioner of the Six Styles," Spaz continued, his voice worryingly hollow. "It's an art that's used to train CP9 agents and requires strength normally only found in the Grand Line."
"Six?" Shanks asked. "Well, there was the jumping in mid-air – "
"The Moon Step," Spaz named.
"And the kicked blades of air pressure," Shanks continued.
"Vacuums, actually, called the Storm Leg; and his quick travel is powered by Shave – all techniques based on explosive leg strength. I don't think he learned it traditionally. I can't imagine any of the teachers leaving the Grand Line and all of them frown upon being too dependent on a specific style."
"Awesome. Wonder why we never met anyone before who could do stuff like this? What are the other styles, Boy?"
Spaz blinked a few times, taken aback by Shanks' enthusiasm, then shook his head a few times. "Um, well, there's Paper Drawing and Iron Mass for defensive purposes, and the Finger Gun is another attack."
"Oo-oo, show me the Finger Gun!"
"Uh…"
"Oh come on!" Shanks exclaimed. "You can do it, right?"
"W-well, it's been awhile…" Spaz stuttered.
"No problem," Shanks reassured cheerily, "try on that board over there." He pointed at a lightly charred wooden plank standing against the railing after being replaced just then by a pirate on repairing duty.
"Alright," Spaz gave in. He walked over to the board and stopped in front of it, about five feet away. Settling lightly into a loose fighting stance, he breathed in deeply, stared at the target, then exploded into a series of rapid movements as he lunged in at the board, his arms a blur for all of five seconds, before retreating back to his original position, breathing in a second breath.
Harry watched quietly, a little worried about Spaz's behavior. On the one hand, this martial art clearly held some bad memories for his friend. On the other hand, it was good for him to see Shanks' easy-going acceptance and assumption that Spaz was capable of the same special techniques as a strong enemy from less than an hour ago. When he saw the results of Spaz's demonstration, however, he quickly intervened.
"Alright, old man," Harry butted in, striding over to grab the beaten up board, "you've got a crew to captain and we've got a meal to cook so make sure everybody's ready for lunch in an hour, yeah?"
Crossing the threshold into the kitchen, Harry tossed the board into the air and incinerated it with an Incendio. It didn't matter much. Harry, Spaz, and Shanks were all well aware of the finger sized holes piercing cleanly through the wood in a very particular pattern. Had Shanks been standing in front of that board, bullets piercing through the pirate captain's vitals would create that exact same picture.
"Lots of fighting just now followed by lots of repairing and cleaning up, so we've got a crew of very hungry people to feed and only an hour to do it," Harry thought aloud, before turning towards a noticeably silent Spaz. "Any ideas?"
For a moment, it didn't seem like Spaz heard him, but he eventually spoke up.
"Neh, Harry, just now…" he trailed off, not quite sure how to refer to the mass of events that filled the morning.
Harry sat up onto the counter and leaned back against the cabinets before responding.
"Spaz, moving in midair and throwing deadly intangible attacks across a distance are all things I've seen before. I am having a difficult time wrapping my mind around the fact that such things are possible through pure physical means, but other than that, I don't think it changes anything. Neither of us knows anything about each other's past and I don't mind, really. I'm willing to listen and give advice if you feel like talking, and I won't be upset if you ask questions though I won't answer them all. Otherwise, all I can say is, don't worry about it, alright?"
"The pirates…"
Harry snorted. "I turn immaterial and so far none of them cared to ask why. I've gone chameleon, like I did with us both just now, in front of the captain and the first mate and neither asked how. I've taunted a Yuda and changed your hair color" here Harry eyed Spaz's hair that was still an electric yellow "and no one's confronted me yet. Only Farkas seems to even notice it's at all unusual, and he's over it already. In fact, the only person who seems to be worried at all is me! Merlin's beard, if none of this bats an eyelash I can't imagine the crazy things they must've seen in the Grand Line!"
Spaz frowned, still unconvinced. "Rokushiki is different, though. The Six Styles are the trademark of Cipher Pole No.9, a multi-purpose group, an assassination group, that doesn't exist, a shadow intelligence committee, working for the World Government to solve problems with less than legal means, through violence, through killing people that the old men on top don't approve of!" he bit out.
Harry sighed and ran a hand through his hair, smiling sadly. "Recently disillusioned, hmm? "
Arms crossed defensively over his chest, Spaz turned his head away.
"Bloody hell mate, I don't think Shanks gives a damn. Hell, I don't think Shanks has ever heard of that Cipher Pole 9 group. Just avoid such provoking demonstrations in the future and it'll be fine."
Spaz grinned sheepishly, a light blush of embarrassment rising in his cheeks. "Yeah, sorry. When I saw the marine using Rokushiki, I imagined myself in his place and uh, catalogued the target areas of his opponent."
"Pfft," Harry huffed. "I think no one else noticed. Shanks would, 'cause it's his body. I noticed because of my habit of analyzing threats. Besides, the evidence is gone now."
"Do you think any of the pirates would be uncomfortable though, that I use a martial art of the enemy?"
"Spaz, as fighters, I'm sure they understand the difference between an enemy and an enemy's attacks. If it becomes a problem, we can leave."
"But you – "
"But nothing. Now help me with lunch. I'm thinking ridiculous amounts of carbs and meat, like spaghetti and meatballs, with garlic bread. Maybe a pot of turnip and spinach miso soup for the injured?"
Spaz perked up. "I'll peel and chop the turnip!" he volunteered, and bounded out the door towards the large fridge in the meat room holding the remainder of their fresh vegetables.
"Grab a pound of beef and some spinach while you're at it!" Harry called after him and smiled at the enthusiastic affirmation.
The infamous topic of conspiracy theories hidden away between the pages of less reputable books he managed to get a hold of in the skimpy bookstore back in West Blue – the nonexistent unit of the World Government's intelligence agency, Cipher Pol No.9. To think that Spaz could confirm its reality. He was strong, and now Harry knew why. Likely, such a secret organization recruited from isolated islands in the Grand Line, training large groups from an incredibly early age to gain superhuman abilities when mastering the frightening Six Styles before accepting superior individuals onto the team. Spaz, it seems, ran away. Would that be a problem in the future?
Harry pounded the spaghetti dough harder than strictly necessary. With the training from Gregory, he didn't request further spars, but he might ask tomorrow. Maybe, the next time they land, Harry and Spaz could go someplace out of the way, and Harry could take a look at the remaining two styles. It's always a good idea to have a bit of understanding on future enemies.
"Harry! Got 'em," Spaz called out.
"Great," Harry smiled, "we don't have much time so I'm going to speed things up a bit, alright?" he informed Spaz, setting the dough aside to rise for half an hour. With a flick of his wand, the turnips and spinach were clean. "Peel, please, I'll chop them after."
Wand raised in the air, several things happened at once as Spaz tried to take it all in without cutting himself peeling the turnips. A cabinet opened and out floated several large loaves of French bread that Harry sliced in midair before they landed on a platter next to a saucer of butter that had similarly floated out of the kitchen fridge. The beef was placed in a bowl and mixed with ground pork as well as regularly sprinkled with a train of spices that were circling above Harry's head.
"Butter the bread, please," Harry asked Spaz when he noticed the peeling was done. Another flick had the peeled turnips diced and thrown into a pot magically filled with water along with spinach, spices, and a quarter of the meat, hand rolled into balls. Spices magically rained on the slices Spaz finished buttering at the same time Harry filled another pot with water and instantly brought it to a rapid boil. The risen dough was quickly rolled out manually and sliced magically before placed in the boiling water.
The multitude of tasks occurring all at once in the kitchen was astounding and Spaz helped roll meatballs on autopilot, slightly confused about the seemingly random allotment of tasks to magic and, uh, well, done normally.
"Most of the power you see me use is called magic and is heavily dependent on spells with specific results," Harry explained, searing rolled meatballs in a frying pan. "Making things float is pretty versatile, but some things are beyond me. I can throw cutters, but I don't know any spells delicate enough for peeling vegetables, nor any spells for shaping foods like rolling dough flat or making meatballs. There is a spell for baking bread," Harry noted, taking this opportunity to toss a yellow spell at the buttered and spiced bread slices that seemed to shrivel slightly and harden, its edges browning slightly, "but it kind of sucks, so I try to only use it for crisping bread. The oven always results in a better taste for the initial baking. Boiling water magically doesn't matter much as long as there's nothing in there already."
Spaz's eyes shone with excitement. "This is so cool! Neh, neh, Harry, what kind of magic can you use in fights? 'Cause a magic fight sounds awesome, yes sirree! Tell me, please Harry!"
Harry laughed. "We can show off our skills later. Shanks said we'd land at some deserted islands to stock up, yeah? That sounds like a good time."
Spaz nodded enthusiastically. The hour flew quickly, but lunch was finished in time due to Harry's liberal use of magic. The pirates ate hungrily to Harry's pleasure, and things only got better when Beckman announced that they were running low on timber and thus a deserted, forested island was next on the crew's priority list.
"So, Rokushiki, the Six Styles. The Moon step is where you kick off on the air so explosively you can actually move in midair. The Storm Leg is where you kick through the air so rapidly the air moves forward fast enough to create a vacuum in its wake. Shave is similar to the Moon step except since you're staying on the ground, you can move at speeds most humans can't keep up with," Harry summarized from what he saw the Marine do and what Spaz told Shanks. "Then the Finger Gun is using the index finger to pierce holes similar to bullets. And you mentioned the other two techniques were for defense?"
"Yep," Spaz replied. "Paper Drawing is relaxing your body so that it floats around attacks. Basically it's the art of not taking any hits. Iron Mass is stiffening your muscles, ideally until it's as tough as iron. Contrary to Paper Drawing, Iron Mass is the art of not taking any damage, and most practitioners can't move when using it."
"Most?" Harry asked, ducking under a branch before finding a suitable clearing. The two had begged off of collecting timber with the rest of the crew from Shanks under the pretense of searching for fresh fruits as well as having no experience harvesting something suitable for ship repairs.
"Well, there's one family famous for Iron Mass Kenpo. How they manage to use Iron Mass while moving is a very tightly guarded secret but incredibly valuable. The heir to the family is almost always a high ranking member of CP9," the teen explained, going through some warm-up motions when he realized Harry intended to use their current location. "So, should I just run through the styles?"
"That'd probably be best, so I can see them all first hand."
"I haven't mastered any of them, so you know. Everything you see is watered down a lot from what CP9 members – or even the Marines if yesterday was any indication – especially Lucci-sama…" Spaz furrowed his brows. "Well, hopefully you never meet him, no sirree," he ended with forced cheeriness.
"Soru."
Harry blinked in shock as Spaz vanished in a blur, barely able to keep up with the cracking sounds and blurred figure from around the clearing when his friend reappeared ten seconds later, leaves in his hair and holding a small bundle of twigs he snapped off.
"Rankyaku."
A sharp kick that lifted dust from the ground left a deep gouge in the tree before Spaz.
"Geppou."
Kicking off from the ground, Spaz took several steps in the air before falling back onto the ground in a roll.
"Shigan."
The gouged tree was attacked again, this time in a similar pattern as Harry saw back on the ship, though with minute differences in the placement of holes.
"For the next two, you'll have to attack me."
Harry thought for a bit. "Will it be fine if I throw rocks? I'm not very good at hand to hand combat."
"Sure."
Harry conjured a rock and tossed it over.
"Kami-e."
As if floating on a breeze, Spaz lightly stepped out of the way. Harry tossed a few more rocks before finally throwing something a bit more unpredictable.
"Avis Oppugo." A flock of sparrows were conjured from the tip of Harry's wand, flying towards Spaz who's eyes widened but otherwise did nothing but continue to duck and weave through the attacking birds. Upping the attacks, Harry conjured half a dozen rocks and tossed them at the distracted teen, simultaneously vanishing the birds.
"Tekkai."
Choosing not to duck the flying rocks, Spaz stomped hard into the ground in a solid stance, arms crossed in front of his face as the rocks bounced off his body, his skin showing no sign of damage.
Harry whistled. "Merlin, that's impressive."
Spaz shook his head sheepishly. "Soru, shave, should be faster, and I don't have enough stamina to maintain it very well, and I also have some issues controlling my direction," he explained, pulling leaves out of his hair.
"My Rankyaku, Storm Leg, is messy, as you saw from the dust I raised, and also weak. That tree should have been sliced clean through. I also can't maintain Geppou, Moon step, very long or land softly and my Shigan, Finger Gun, can't pierce bone yet, and even masters of just Tekkai, Iron Mass, not the Kenpo, can attack by gathering momentum first and, and," Spaz rambled.
"Whoa there, Spaz," Harry chuckled, "I get it. Still, I can't imagine ever pulling off any of that."
Spaz perked up. "Will you show me magic now?"
Harry grinned, digging an arm into a pocket up to the elbow as he rustled around his robes, looking for the perfect demonstration prop.
"You bet."
A/N: It's summer vacation! Whoot! I still have a really time consuming internship, but the lack of homework is very welcome. Hopefully updates will be regular again for the next few months, and please do keep an eye out for my new story. It will feature eventual Harry/Shanks slash, a more powerful Harry, more violence, open cursing, and eventual angst.
Sorry about the return of the cooking, but I thought a magical cooking scene would be kinda fun.
I apologize to all my wonderful reviewers to whom I did not respond for the last chapter. There were some link problems.
Annabelle: Thanks :)
Grim Reaper: Yes, he will eventually.
399 reviews as of today, 6/14/11
Thanks everyone :)