Most people won't like the ending of this chapter but if it wasn't for this chapter wouldn't even be finished so your criticism doesn't matter to me. All that does matter to me is there is just one reader who has something nice to sat about this chapter. Please read and review.

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It was the middle of the night, and the boys were fast asleep. Their small ship rocked gently on the waves.

Fletcher had a black eye, though it was well on its way to healing. It was more yellow than purple now. He'd got off lightly, since Christopher had been too tired to do anything more. Fletcher would not be making plate sculptures again any time soon. He snored peacefully, unaware of his surroundings.

With the slightest of thuds, another small ship bumped into them. With a faint click, a hook attached the two boats together. The three occupants of the new boat waited a full minute, wary should they have woken the targets. Satisfied that all was quiet, the three slipped aboard Fletcher's ship.

Christopher opened one eye, scanning the cabin. He didn't see anything out of place, but that meant nothing. Glancing over at his captain, he saw that the idiot was still asleep. So if it wasn't him that made the noise, then . . . He heard it again, the soft pad of footsteps on the deck. It was a sound he knew well, for he had once caused it many times, in his occupation as an assassin. Even more quietly than the intruders, Christopher slipped out of the hammock. He didn't bother with his sword. It was too big, unwieldy for use on a small, compact ship. He reached back under his shirt, sliding one of his knives out of its sheath, and he picked up another where he had concealed it beneath a pile of Fletcher's stuff on the floor. Christopher crept to the door, carefully putting his eye to the gap between it and the wall.

The three intruders were feeling pleased with themselves. This job would be a cinch, they were sure of it. But there is a price to pay for being too cocky, especially when you're an assassin. The three didn't realise that they had been followed. Softly, as quiet as they could be, they crept to the cabin door . . .

What was quiet for them sounded unbearably loud to Christopher. He could tell that they were amateurs just by the way they walked. The three didn't even bother to test where they were stepping. For all they knew, there could have been a creaky plank. Christopher poked out his tongue in preparation, hand on the door handle, knives at the ready.

Someone beat him to it

All Christopher heard was the softest of whispers, the slightest of sighs. Then all three intruders went very very stiff. With the faintest of faint crackles and the quietest rustle, they fell to the deck. But he could still hear them breathing. Christopher went as still as possible, waiting.

A busted up little dinghy nosed against Fletcher's ship, a robed man stepping aboard. He pushed the dinghy away. Without a sound, he bent over the three unconscious bodies. Silently he lifted all three up and carried them to the other small ship that had attached itself to Fletcher's. Christopher heard three faint gasps- it was the sound of men losing their lives to a professional. Then the man removed the hook connecting the ships. He shoved the dead ship away.

While his back was turned, Christopher slowly turned the door handle, ears alert for any squeaking.

The robed man revealed a staff, three crystals shining in the dim moonlight. One was clear, one was fiery, and the third was electric blue. The man touched the end of his staff to the surface of the sea. The clear crystal glowed as the man whispered almost silently. From the end of the staff, ice began to spread on the surface of the sea. The man made to step off Fletcher's ship, onto his artificial platform.

Christopher struck. He whipped out his tongue, trapping the man's arms to his sides as Christopher leaped onto his back.

Christopher held one knife to the man's throat, pressing the other to his side. The man froze, and the ice cracked at his loss of concentration.
"Who are you, an' wha' are ya do'an' 'ere?" Christopher mumbled.

Back in the cabin, Fletcher opened his eyes to find his crew mate missing. He frowned, wondering what could have woken him. Fletcher got out of bed and went out on deck looking for Chris.

Christopher cursed mentally at his luck, unconsciously drawing blood in his irritation. The man gulped as a thin trickle of liquid ran down his neck.

Christopher made his tongue longer, cringing at the way it caught on the man's clothes. Soon, the intruder was trussed up like a chicken. The robes tasted like soap.
Lifting the man up off the deck, Christopher pondered how he was going to explain this to his approaching idiot captain.

"Who's that?" Fletcher asked curiously.

Christopher didn't answer, trying to figure out if-

"My name is Yokai, monk of the order of Anetha. And you are?"

"Fletcher G. Perkman. Future King of the Pirates. And that's Chris." Fletcher replied, pointing at Christopher. Christopher would have smacked himself in the forehead, had his tongue not been in the way. Sighing, knowing that he didn't have much choice, Christopher put the monk down.

"Thank you, and bless you, Chris." The robed man said with a bow.

"It's Christopher. And you are no mere monk."

The man looked uncomfortable.

"Well, you see, I-"

Christopher cut him off, saying "Only an assassin could move like you did. Who are you, really?"

"I am, as I said, Yokai, monk of the order of Anetha, the most beautiful of the goddesses. But yes, as you have pointed out, I am also an assassin. Now if you'll excuse me, I-"

Fletcher was the one who cut him off this time, stars in his eyes as he said "You're an assassin too! Awesome!" Fletcher began to do a little dance of happiness. This time, Christopher really did smack himself in the forehead.

Yokai looked at Fletcher in confusion.

"Someone like you could not possibly be an assassin!" The monk exclaimed. Fletcher looked at Yokai as if he was a moron (the irony).

"I'm not an assassin. Chris is! He's my cook!" Fletcher laughed after saying this, though he thankfully stopped dancing. He was standing still enough that Chris could punch him in the gut.

"OW!"

"Idiot! You don't just give information like that to strangers!"

"But he told us his name!"

Christopher fought the urge to yell in frustration at his captain's response. Instead of tossing his captain overboard as he was now tempted to do, Christopher decided that an interrogation was in order.

"Yo, Yokai. Who were those three?"

The monk looked surprised for a moment. Then his face clouded.

"Well, you see . . . My uncle is . . . not a good man. Like me, he is an assassin. He is in fact the leader of an assassin cult, which guards the Treasure from outsiders. Previous leaders have been content to simply lock the Treasure away. My uncle will not settle for this. He doesn't want any outsider to even hear of the treasure. He sends his men to kill the crew of every ship that comes too close, and if you disobey his orders, you too shall be killed. That is what happened with my father . . ." The monk trailed off, then turned to Christopher.

"You may have heard of my uncle. His name is Belcosa T. Brad."

Christopher's eyes widened. Brad T. Belcosa was a legend! He successfully carried out hundreds of missions, before disappearing at the peak of his career. No one knew where to find him, and those that tried were never heard from again. Belcosa's name was not to be taken lightly, and he was feared all over the Blue underworld. Brad T. Belcosa . . . was Yokai's uncle?! He was here?!

Christopher looked around nervously, although there was nothing to see but the gentle waves of the sea.

Yokai nodded sagely. "I see. You have heard of the man."

As he said this, both Yokai and Chris became aware of Fletcher's frown.

"Are you alright?" Christopher asked worriedly.

Fletcher looked back at both of them with unreadable eyes. "Did you say that your uncle kills every crew that comes through here?"

Yokai nodded, saying "He is responsible for the deaths of over a thousand men. It is my dearest wish to defeat him, but I don't have the strength or skills to do so."
Something sparked within Fletcher's eyes. Christopher had a sense of impending doom.

Fletcher looked Yokai in the eye and said "We'll help you."

Just like that. "We'll help you." Christopher slumped forward, thinking Why me . . .. Knowing that he didn't have much choice but to go along with it, Christopher turned to the slack-jawed Yokai.

"Well, I guess you'd better tell us everything then." Christopher said with a frazzled expression.

Yokai stared at the both of them. "But . . . But . . . You-"

Christopher cut him off. "Thanks to my idiot captain, we're going to take on one of the greatest assassins in the Four Blues. So I'd like to know as much as possible before we go charging in like lunatics."

"But, you-"

Fletcher cut off the monk with a smirk. "We're helping you," he said, "simple as that."