A/N: Thank you so much for your reviews! To answer a recent comment, I don't know yet how Nekoma will be introduced to the story, but they will definitely be very important. The Catclaw is a legendary pirate ship, after all, and Hinata will have to meet his heroes. But for now, here are more adventures on the Iron Island.

After they ate dumplings, they continued to wander the market. Tanaka scouted out a clothing stall Yamaguchi found relatively comfortable, and half an hour later Yamaguchi was kitted out with new clothes, his old ones traded to the stallkeeper for a bargain price on the new. Tanaka wanted to get something for Hinata, too, shaking his purse like an indulgent aunt, but Hinata refused.

"They're fine!" he yelled when Tanaka began to insist, his face heating and his hands clenched into fists. "I'll buy my own the next time we have leave!"

Tanaka backed down, then, waving his hands in astonishment, though he took the rejection in good humor. Yamaguchi eyed Hinata warily. Hinata turned away and fumed to himself, coming down from his temper step by step.

By the time they ventured back into the market, he was himself again, bouncing on his feet and peering around for anything interesting or entertaining. They stopped and listened to more musicians, including a group of drummers in sarashi which particularly captivated Tanaka. Their usually boisterous senpai went strangely still and intent for a time, watching the drummers with unblinking fascination before he shook himself out of it. Another time, they found an old fellow wearing a white turban, his skin the weathered brown of an ancient palm tree, playing a stringed instrument none of them had ever seen before. Hinata was delighted by the wide variety available at the market, but sometimes it was difficult to be still long enough to take each attraction in, because something else was always drawing his attention.

Long before the turbaned musician had finished his tune (it seemed to be nigh interminable), Hinata's eyes wandered away. A sizable crowd was gathering not three stalls away, and he longed to push his way into the press and discover what the attraction was. He perked up and turned toward the area physically when a voice began to call.

"Come and see! Come and watch a demonstration of Iron Island's finest young guardsmen! See why they call us the Wall! Experience for yourself the defensive capabilities of our military! Be astounded, and be assured that this market is the safest in all of Aritossa!"

Hinata caught his breath. There was no way he could resist that. The strange, twanging music had lost all appeal to him.

He knew better than to leave his friends without saying a word, though. If he didn't want to be treated like a child, he shouldn't act like one. Hinata grabbed Tanaka's sleeve and gave it a tug, gaining his senpai's instant attention.

"Aye, Hinata-chan? What is it?"

Hinata pointed at the yonder crowd, his eyes wide, and pranced from foot to foot. "I wanna go. Can we go?"

Tanaka raised his head and listened to the patter of the barker for a few moments. A spark lit in his eyes. "Oh, aye. I want to go, too. That will be a sight worth seeing, indeed it will."

Yamaguchi was still entranced by the music. They each grabbed an elbow and hauled him away despite his squawk of protest. "Oi, the song's not over...!"

He quieted when he saw where they were leading him, though. The crowd had grown bigger even in the last few moments. Everyone wanted to see the Iron Island guardsmen—the folks they trusted with their goods, their commerce, their livelihoods—display their skill.

Hinata and his friends found a place in the crowd. Tanaka and Yamaguchi were tall enough to see the center of attraction, but Hinata was instantly frustrated. He tried jumping up a few times to see over the shoulders of those ahead of him, but it was exhausting and not very effective. He needed to get closer, he needed...

Tanaka patted his shoulder, giving wordless permission, and Hinata was off. He found an advantage, once again, in being small, as he ducked under arms and dodged elbows in his quest for the front of the audience. He wasn't aware at first of Yamaguchi keeping up at his heels, but his friend's muttering complaints alerted him to his presence.

"Hinata-chan, must we really... We're annoying people... Hinata-chan, please..."

Hinata ignored him. Yamaguchi didn't have to choose to come. At last, he squeezed between the arms of two tall, burly islanders and found himself almost stepping on the carpet the performers had laid out. Hinata blinked and stepped back enough to keep himself off the stage. He almost ran into Yamaguchi, who caught his shoulders. They stood there together, gaping.

A boy with straight brown hair combed over his face and a sideways smile that seemed born of sarcasm stood on the rug. His arms were stretched out and his chest was pushed forward in proud display. He wasn't wearing a shirt, and his muscles... Well, it was easy to see why he felt confident in displaying his body.

As they watched, he turned to face different sides of the crowd that surrounded the improvised stage, shouting to be heard above the market crowd. "Keep in mind also that we are only cadets! Our senpai and officers are far more skilled than we are. And this demonstration will display only one of the many martial skills we practice in our training! Even so, we will awe you and amaze you. Watch and see! The guard of the Iron Island is the finest you will ever find!"

He continued in this vein until he judged that the crowd was sizeable enough, then abruptly shifted tone. "Thank you, thank you!" he cried. "Now, we will begin the demonstration. I am Futakuchi Kenji, an Iron Island guard in training, and I will be your guide. And to further prove that this is skill alone and no trickery, we would like to have a volunteer from the audience."

A lady on the opposite of the rug from Hinata covered her mouth, and Futakuchi laughed and waved his hands. "Nothing dangerous, nothing dangerous! This will be a contest of skill and strength, but there will be no harm posed to our brave volunteer, I assure you. Still, if physical might is not your best feature, perhaps you'd enjoy watching more."

Several hands rose in the crowd. Hinata's was among them, of course. He had no idea what this was about, but he burned with desire to join the fun. A contest of strength and skill? Physical might? Aye, Hinata would be a worthy opponent, of that he was sure. Better yet if there truly was some danger, so he could prove himself a brave sailor in his own eyes as well as Tanaka and Yamaguchi's.

Yamaguchi muttered and shifted beside him, his own hands conspicuously at his sides, but Hinata didn't care. He stood on his tiptoes and waved his hand back and forth, longing for the barker to notice him. Futakuchi was shading his eyes and peering about the crowd in an exaggerated show.

"We need someone tough, but nimble," he said theatrically. He began to walk around the edge of the carpet, studying those who had raised their hands. His eyes were sharp and his grin was wide. "But most of all, you must be quick on your toes."

That's me! Me! Hinata wiggled his fingers in the air.

Futakuchi paused before a burly man with his hand raised, tilting his head in appraisal. "Good sir, I do believe you would win in a wrestling match with any of our cadets." The man grinned and nodded. "But is your aim good enough to hit the side of a building?"

The man laughed and shook his head, lowering his hand and bowing out gracefully. Futakuchi winked at him and moved on. A few other hands lowered as well, but Hinata kept his up.

What kind of contest was this? Hinata had thought it would be something like arm wrestling or sumo. With his lessons aboard the Swan and his months asea doing hard labor, he was growing confident in his strength. He had eyed the lanky Futakuchi up and down and judged that he could he take him in such a contest. True, the Iron Island cadet would no doubt put up a struggle, and the battle might be long and hard-won. But all the better, then, for proving that Hinata was a capable sailor who needed protection from no one.

But Futakuchi had dismissed someone who was undoubtedly stronger than Hinata, saying that this contest was about skill more than brute strength. And he'd mentioned aiming. Was it a game of throwing? Hinata's heart beat louder at the thought. He loved throwing games.

One of his favorite things to do with his gang back in Yukigaoka involved throwing cobblestones at whatever target they laid their eyes on. Street signs, dock pylons, the constable's hat... And Hinata always won. Always.

He hadn't been able to practice much aboard the Swan, since loose rocks were not quick to hand on a ship. But when the biscuit was particularly tough and inedible at noon break, he didn't mind chucking it somewhere, laughing when he hit his target dead on. He and Yamaguchi made a game of it on some days.

They'd break a bad biscuit into pieces with a knife handle, and Hinata would throw the pieces at whatever targets Yamaguchi chose. A certain knothole in the railing, a loose hook hanging above, the back of Billy Hanson's head. They were quick and sneaky about it, knowing they'd be scolded and punished for wasting food if they were caught. But Yamaguchi seemed to gain as much pleasure from the sport as Hinata. It was one of the few times that Yamaguchi would let go his wish adherence to the rules and be as childish and immature as Hinata. Perhaps it reminded him of playing with his lost friend, Tsukki, defying social convention and giggling to each other in not-altogether-good-hearted fun.

Now, Hinata nudged Yamaguchi's arm. Yamaguchi frowned down at him, and Hinata grinned. "Aim," he murmured, so quietly there was no way Yamaguchi could have heard him, but Yamaguchi understood anyway. His eyes sparked, and he stood straighter suddenly. And he raised his own arm, stretching for the sky, to seek the barker's attention.

Perhaps Hinata was too far beneath Futakuchi's line of sight—he'd never seemed to notice him in circling around the edge of the crowd, eyeing every potential volunteer in appraisal. But now, with Yamaguchi standing tall and straight with his hand raised high, Futakuchi finally took notice. He turned toward the new movement and tilted his head as he took in Yamaguchi, a sideways smile sliding onto his face.

"Aye, lad? You think you have what it takes to beat an Iron Island cadet?"

Yamaguchi lowered his hand and shook his head. He placed his hands on Hinata's shoulders and pushed him forward, forcing him to take a step onto the woven carpet. Hinata hunched his shoulders and glanced back at him, but Yamaguchi's face was set. "Not me. My shipmate here, Hinata Shouyou. He has the best aim of anyone I've ever met. You want someone who can hit the side of a building? He can do far better than that."

Hinata flushed at the praise, a pleased glow spreading through every limb. He'd never heard Yamaguchi speak like that before, strong and confident and unafraid. Futakuchi's grin widened, and he stepped closer and looked Hinata up and down.

"Aye, can he? What say you, little lad? Do you have a good arm?"

Hinata's hands clenched into fists at his sides. "I do!" If he knew anything in the world, he knew this. "No one can beat me in a throwing game. Come, try me! I'll beat you fair to rights, I will!"

Futakuchi laughed, loud and startled. It was not a cruel laugh, though there was an edge to it. His eyes lit bright with challenge. "So you say! Well, we cannot let this boast stand without testing it, can we? Aye, lad, we'll take you as our volunteer."

Hinata stepped forward onto the rug, distantly aware of Yamaguchi fading into the crowd behind him. The attention in the area had risen, the excitement of the gathered watchers rising to new heights. It reminded Hinata of when Yamaguchi fought Billy Hanson, but this time he was the one at the center of everyone's gaze. It lit a fire in his belly. He would show them all what he could do, and no mistake about it.

"What's the contest?" he asked, bouncing on his toes in eagerness to begin. "Quoits? Horseshoes? Another game? Just give me something to throw and I'll take you down square."

Futakuchi laughed again, less startled this time, a little harsher. His grin was set and hard, his eyes like pieces of flinty steel. "Aye, aye, we'll have you show us what you can do. But it's not me you'll be facing in this contest. Your foe will be one of my comrades. Is that acceptable?"

Hinata didn't hesitate. He had decided that he could take on Futakuchi for certain in a physical test, but he was sure that he could beat anyone, cadet or not, in a game of throwing. "Aye, that's good and fair. Who will I be playing against?"

Futakuchi looked away from the improvised stage to a cart that waited nearby. Hinata hadn't noticed it before, too occupied by the show Futakuchi was putting on. Several young men stood near the cart, though Hinata was too short to see much of them through the crowd. Futakuchi waited for a moment, until someone there must have given some sign, and then he turned back to Hinata with a wide, sharp grin.

"Well, lad, it seems that my comrades are taking your challenge seriously. You will be facing the best of the cadets, a mate of mine who is fair more than most grown men can face without blanching, let alone a lad like you. I'm very eager to see this contest, so I am. Are you ready?"

Hinata nodded. He was ready for anything.

Futakuchi stood straight and walked toward the center of the rug. He spread his arms and raised his voice to be heard by all and sundry. "Friends! Ladies and gentlemen! Honored guests all welcome here to the Iron Island Marketplace! You will now witness a demonstration of the might of the Iron Island. You will see why they call us the Wall. The contest will be held between this young sailor, Hinata Shouyou..." Here he held one hand toward Hinata with a grand flourish. "...and one of our finest cadets, a flower in his prime, the strong and mighty..." He held his other hand toward the other side of the crowd, and someone tall and broad began pushing his way through the people who separated him from the stage.

"Aone Takanobu!"

Hinata froze where he stood. He stared up...and up...at the young man opposing him. Aone had taken off his shirt, too. Futakuchi's build was impressive, but Aone was on another level entirely.

Hinata's eyes were so wide they hurt. Somewhere in the background, he heard Yamaguchi's gasp of shock. Tanaka yelled in delight from the crowd. "Yahaa! How about that, Hinata-chan? Show 'im what you're made of!"

Aone's lips compressed in a slight frown as he bent his head to look down at Hinata. The only mitigating factor Hinata saw in this situation was that Aone didn't look vengeful. There was nothing in his expression that said he was looking to get back at Hinata for what he'd done to Aone's family and their fruit stall. His face was simply very, very serious and determined. He intended to win this contest. And he was going to do it honorably.

Hinata didn't know if that made it better or worse.

Futakuchi was laughing. "Ha! I said you would blanch, sailor boy! I was right, wasn't I?"

Hinata regained himself enough to give him a glare. "I'm not scared!" he yelled, hands wrapping tight into fists. "I was just..." His voice faltered, losing strength as he glanced at Aone again. "...surprised..."

Futakuchi's eyebrows rose, and he looked between the two of them in sudden curiosity. "Oh, aye? Do you know my comrade, lad? You've met before?"

Aone said nothing. Futakuchi did not seem much surprised. He looked at Hinata for a response.

Hinata shifted from foot to foot. His face heated. "I thought he was just...a fruit-seller's son..."

A zealous, powerful, sharp-eyed fruit-seller's son, true enough. But he'd never imagined that Aone was in the military, too. That he was part of Iron Island's famed guard, even as a cadet.

"Well, and so he is..." Futakuchi said. His voice lost some confidence as he glanced between them, trying to figure out what was going on. For the first time, he didn't sound like a showman plying his trade, but a young man little older than Hinata, uncertain and hesitant in the face of the unexpected.

"What's all this then? What's going on?" The new voice was sharp and infuriated, coming from the direction of the cart. Another person was pushing his way through the crowd, this one short enough that he was impossible to see through the pressing bodies. The evidence of his progress was in the shifting and murmuring of the spectators he shoved by, their glances downward to the sides and in front of them marking his path. "What nonsense are you up to this time, you great load of foolish children? I swear, I can't leave you alone for a quarter of a bell or you're all off staging some shenanigan..."

Hinata tilted his head. The voice was...familiar...

The owner of the voice pushed his way out of the crowd and onto the rug, stumbling forward with the sudden loss of pressure on all sides. He scraped to a halt, his tunic askew on his chest, and glared around himself at the two cadets. His curly dark hair tufted up from his head like the fur of an agitated cat, back arched in readiness to flee or to fight.

"Captain Moniwa!" Futakuchi greeted him with a smooth grin, wide and charismatic, though fear lurked behind his eyes.

"Don't you 'Captain' me, Futakuchi!" Moniwa turned on him and beat him back with a series of short jabs to his torso, not hard enough to injure but certainly strong enough to be felt. Futakuchi flinched and backed away, almost falling into the arms of the crowd, and Moniwa turned his glare on Aone. "What cockamamie scheme are you two pulling this time? Aone? It was Futakuchi's idea, wasn't it?"

Aone tilted his head. Futakuchi gathered himself enough to approach again, his hands outstretched in conciliation. His voice was contrite and persuasive. "Captain, Captain! It's no scheme! It's just a demonstration of one of our training techniques to show the good visitors to the market just how safe they are in the hands of the guard of the Wall. No harm is intended and none will be done!"

Moniwa held still and glared at Futakuchi, his slightly-built body heaving as he fumed. His entire being radiated waiting. He was expecting more.

Futakuchi winced. "Of course, if anyone chooses to donate a coin or two to the military efforts, that all to the good, aye? A free choice, freely given. We ask nothing and expect nothing."

Moniwa made a strangled noise of frustration and punched Futakuchi again. "I'm putting you on potato-peeling duty for a year, you rascal!"

The crowd had begun to titter and chuckle at the display. They must have thought it was all a part of the show. Hinata, though, could feel his heart sinking in disappointment. He really, really wanted to have a contest with Aone, and every irritated word out of Moniwa's mouth took that possibility farther and farther away.

"And you!" Moniwa turned on Aone and shoved at his arm, though he was much more gentle with him than he was with Futakuchi. "You shouldn't let him talk you into these things, Aone."

Aone looked abashed, his face lowering from its proud height. But his jaw set in stubbornness at the same time. He didn't want to give up the competition, either. It probably hadn't been hard for Futakuchi to persuade him. A gentle giant he might have been, but he was also a sportsman.

Heat rose in Hinata's limbs and flooded his middle, moving his feet forward before he knew what he was about. He marched over the rug, fists clenched and rising. "Oi! Captain Moniwa!"

Moniwa spun to face him. His generous eyebrows flew upward in astonishment. "Hinata-chan! You...?"

"Captain Moniwa!" Hinata halted before him. "Please let us play! Aone and me want to compete against each other. Please let us!"

Then he used the move he'd learned from Tanaka. He bowed, deep and low and formal, and held the pose.

"What..." Moniwa sputtered. Hinata peeked up at him through his hair. The cadet captain was turning red again. "What is happening here..."

"C'mon, Captain," Futakuchi dared to wheedle. "It's just a training exercise. The one with the staff. Aone is the best at it! Let him have a moment in the sun."

Hinata peeked at Aone. Aone stared at Moniwa, his eyes large and pleading. Moniwa was wavering—it was impossible to miss.

"Let them play!" Tanaka hollered from the crowd, and others instantly took up the call. Someone began to clap, and then someone else, and soon the force and power of it seemed to reverberate around the entire market square.

"Let them play! Let them play!"

It was far too much for Moniwa. He held firm for all of ten seconds into the chant, his face growing redder and redder. Then he threw his hands into the air in a flail of surrender. "Aye then! Have it your way! I wash my hands of the entire affair."

Hinata popped up from his deep bow, pumping his fists into the air in celebration. Aone's entire face somehow brightened even though his expression didn't change at all. Futakuchi grinned, sly and slanted, his eyes narrowing in fox-like pleasure. Moniwa huffed and moved to the edge of the crowd, where he crossed his arms over his chest and set his face in disapproval. The watchers cheered.

Aone looked at Hinata, and his face no longer seemed like that of a forbidding god. He was just a youth little older than Hinata who wanted to sport in the bright tropical sun and enjoy himself. Futakuchi grinned and nudged his arm in playful understanding, then turned toward their comrades at the cart. "Come along, fellows! We'll begin the demonstration!"

Hinata rose up on his toes and strained to see them coming. His entire body felt alight. Finally, finally, the contest was going to begin.