Chapter XIX: Davy Back Ignored

This was precisely why appearances were important. What was the point of having any sort of freedom if you were damned by the public? If nothing else, their father was right about those around them constantly observing them. Especially unconsciously, it was normal to track different qualities of a person: behaviors, habits, posture, vernacular, and decisions to name a few. From there, they blended together to create the image others would view the person as, and any speck of an outlier could greatly skew it all. Thus came the importance of meticulously forming each. It was apparent to Winter that Whitley did not give a damn about any of this.

Her room had been promptly disorganized in an orderly fashion when she first saw his bounty. It was a disrespect to her and her family for him to act this way. She had once been under the impression that he was under the thumb of their father, prepared to be a carbon copy of him. She would have been adequately overjoyed to learn this was not the case, but instead he had thrown it away to be a criminal.

With their lifestyle, her brother had only a few influences available. While she would never call it a good thing, it would be understandable if he had been successfully manipulated by the man known for manipulation. Both herself and Weiss were respectable role models while their mother certainly could not have led to this. The only conclusion Winter was left to face was that he had made the decision entirely on his own without any external influence. That was what disappointed her the most. He was willingly being immature, inconsiderate, and disrespectful to herself, Weiss, and anyone he has encountered and will encounter.

At least Weiss was doing well. There was that incident as of late, but she performed well enough in the trial that Winter believed her reputation was easily recoverable. So, while she would never wish Weiss to be a clone of herself, Winter was pleased to see her sister walking the same path.

Weiss wasn't a worry for her, but she wondered what trouble Whitley was getting into.

"Didn't you hear 'im?" A burly man asked. "He said the food tastes like shit! Go get 'im somethin' new." The waitress cowered before the pirate. He was deeply tanned, bald with a goatee, and had a scar running across his left eye leaving it pale unlike the black one opposite it.

"Truly, there is no need," Whitley assured the man. "I merely said that it was a bit bland and that I was disappointed. There's no need to cause such a fuss."

The pirate growled, "You're lucky our captain is humble. Make sure the next dish 'as more flavor."

"Yeah!" Another pirate jeered. "No one serves the captain a lousy meal on our watch!"

There was only one man brave enough to enter the room. His shaggy blond hair fell over one eye, the other gray orb sitting under an eyebrow that curled like the smoke coming from his cigarette. He sighed at the cowering soldiers around him and opted to kick open the door. Those around him scurried to hide where they could.

"The food's ready, dumbass!" Sanji strode into the room, dropping the plate on the desk in the center.

Adam was displeased with him. "How dare you refer to me like that, cook!"

"Just shut up and eat your food, you damn edgy-wannabe asshole!" Adam complied. Only a few spoonfuls of the rice Sanji had brought him changed his demeanor and he began to relax. While he ate, Sanji pulled up a chair to lounge in.

He would never say it out loud, but Adam was one of the few people out there he respected. The key was that Adam truly appreciated food, far more than anyone else Sanji had ever seen. That was one of the only reasons he was here — all the pretty girls in the Revolutionary Army was another reason. Just as always, Adam left nothing behind; every grain of rice had been savored.

"Sorry, I'm just upset," Adam told him.

Sanji took a drag from his cigarette before responding. "You don't need to tell me. You're about as subtle as a bull in a china shop."

"Watch it, cook," Adam warned. "I just lose myself when I'm hungry, and now there's this mess. Pyrrha Nikos, the Invincible Girl, she was supposed to be a symbol that tore down the divide. An influential young girl from outside of the Grand Line now presented with life as a zoan user who could see both sides. Obviously it isn't the same, but it wouldn't be the first time Remnant treated a zoan user like a faunus.

"Then she shows her true colors, broadcasted for all the world to see! 'Your kind,' she says, hiding her devil fruit from shame. Once, she used it, but not a single time since! It's clear that she would only refuse that sort of power because she's ashamed to resemble a faunus, and it makes sense — she's partnered with a Schnee!"

"What about Willow-san?" Sanji asked offhandedly.

"Don't bring her into this," Adam growled. "She's different from the others in that cesspool of a family." Now finished with his food, he pulled out a stack of papers and began writing another story that would never see the light of day.

Sanji gave Adam enough time to get into the flow of his writing. "You know, that court case went well. Your marine plant wanted me to tell you. That and there's this new fancy thing going around."

"What is it?" asked Adam. Instead of answering, Sanji tossed him a small, rectangular object. Adam knew what it was of course, but he never expected to see one here. "Why do you have a scroll on the Grand Line? They won't work here."

"It's part of what that case was about. They set up a CCT tower, whatever that is. People all around are going crazy about this. There's already been some business ventures importing scrolls from outside."

Adam slowly set his pen down. This was — it had to be too good to be true. "I don't have to keep my cover anymore. I have all my written stories right here." Then, to seal the deal, he added, "I can post it all myself online."

With that realization being had, Sanji left the room. He knew Adam would want some time to start on what could be called his life's work. That being said, he grabbed the dish before he left just in case there was any chaos to be had. No need for the idiom he used to become reality.

Training under Coco was different from training in Beacon. Sky, Dove, and Russel all agreed that their performance in Goodwitch's class could be labeled as sub-par, but they weren't really weak or anything. Coco made them feel otherwise.

Dove was running laps with his arms acting as clothing racks, shirts crammed on each side from shoulder to wrist. Then, as punishment for his backtalk, Coco forced him to wear a pair of heels as he did so.

Russell was in the middle of pushups. Each time he went up, he was forced to match two articles of clothing presented to him. For every blunder, another shoe box was placed on his back, and he had to keep them balanced. There were currently fifteen.

Sky was having to run an obstacle course while being chased — at least, that was how Coco phrased it. Sky would say he was sprinting through a war zone with a mad-woman faunus tailing him. Unfortunately for him, he wasn't good enough at getting away from her yet, and it was a world of pain whenever he was caught.

Sky moaned in pain as Velvet tugged at his ears. "Dove was right; you are trying to take them!" At her displeased expression he added, "Let me guess, next you're going to say 'and you deserve it,' right?"

Velvet slowly closed her mouth and tugged harder.

Ironwood was one small inconvenience from breaking. What that would entail from him, he didn't know. He might do something with political repercussions that would put him down in history as a fool, or he might simply give up. Either one would be terrible for a man of his position.

Why was it up to him to put his foot down when Vale's council repeatedly raised complaints about Beacon? Bartholomew Oobleck was doing a good enough job, but the council refused to meet with him based on a 'language barrier.' Why did it matter that the students were getting so energized that they were practically speaking another language they talked so fast? Beacon had hired translators to help with the situation. Every way he looked at it, his involvement was unnecessary, but Vale had its head so far up his ass that he needed to step in.

The last time he had called Ozpin, his friend had only taken the time to ask if he could prove the CCT blueprints had been stolen. Ironwood had promptly hung up and had not called since.

Now, to top it all off, Jacques Schnee was accusing his wife of plotting his murder and being an enemy of the state who had groomed their son into piracy. With how the woman fled before the claims circulated, Ironwood was forced to believe it. It honestly had nothing to do with how she disappeared when the accusations came, but rather the timing. Jacques was both a powerful and well-known man. Ironwood had no doubt that Jacques could contact the media, spread his story, and prepare a manhunt the night of. If Willow Schnee was able to escape before the public was aware with no evidence to trace her from, Ironwood was confident she was part of the lunacy.

That wasn't to say he didn't have any graces. For one, Jacques wasn't breathing down his own neck. Certainly, he was making a loud ruckus of Atlas' media, but his demands were directed to the Grand Line where he claimed both his wife and son fled to. Only the brothers knew what would happen if Jacques called him to action on top of everything else.

Then there was, of course, the lovely beverage he had been given. The sweet aroma permeated his office and out into the halls. Noticeably, his soldiers and students had both become more relaxed and cheery in nature. They kept their discipline, but it didn't hurt for them to have grown friendlier. Ironwood would have it no other way.

Finally was his latest gift, a large blanket. Initially, he argued that it was terribly unprofessional, but his specialists insisted he was too stressed and should at least try it. Days later and only his head and hands were visible at the moment, both solely for necessity's sake. Why had he not done something like this sooner? Why must this be considered not fit for a professional environment? Just think about how great the world could be if they let go of norms and allowed themselves to become cocoons at work. Perhaps he should try wearing pajamas next.

While Ironwood was certain he was headed to some breaking point, the warmth of the fuzzy blue mass pulled him away from it. In fact, it was the only thing preventing it now.

Jaune would call the trees giant if it wasn't for their normal trunks. Instead they just looked abnormally tall. In fact, everything there looked either way too tall or way too long.

"I feel like we're in a kids' book or something," Sun said. Jaune fully agreed, wondering how such a wacky looking island came about.

They weren't on land too long before they started hearing frustrated voices. They came from farther along the coast distantly shouting at each other. Deciding to investigate, they made their way over and saw a stout man with a rather bulbous body complaining to someone that seemed like a subordinate of his.

"How was I supposed to know they were marines?" His voice was irritated, and Jaune could see why now that he was close enough. The man's face was bruised badly, and had tussled with the marines evidently. His long, red nose looked like it must have been hit pretty hard. "At least they didn't hit my nose." Or maybe it just looked that way.

"They did have the marine symbol painted on the side of their boat," his subordinate replied.

"That was not a marine ship," the man insisted. "And that paint looked like a dying rat! How the hell am I supposed to recognize that? They —" The man noticed them. He began walking over to them muttering about a 'take two.' Unfortunately, someone else noticed them.

Blake shouted a sudden warning for everyone to hit the ground. The only ones that hesitated were the man and his subordinate. An enraged war cry of Jaune's name filled their ears as fire rained down over them. The Straw Hats were saved by Blake's warning, but the same couldn't be said for the man. Jaune felt a bit sorry for him.

When the torrent of flames cleared, a woman with black hair stood before them. There were three others with her, including Roman Torchwick, but the one who seemed to wish him harm had his attention.

"Who is she?" Jaune asked.

Blake glanced at Neo, who made the rudest of gestures, and responded, "According to Neo: a bitch."

"The time has finally come; you will pay!" Jaune mentally added 'psychotic' to that description.

"Let's separate them! That worked at the tower." At Jaune's order, they began running in pairs. The woman, refusing to let her prey out of her sight, chased after the boy with blond hair.

Emerald knew Cinder was strong and there was nothing these amateurs could do to stop her, but she still tried to follow along. They were here just for two people after all, and Roman had already run off after Neo. Emerald was stopped however when a slash from a scythe interrupted her path. It was that annoying girl with gray eyes Roman talked about. Not worried, Emerald activated her semblance and started slipping past, but another interruption came. Another girl with black hair and amber eyes stood in her path. Once again, she used the same tactic to slide around, but the girl stopped her again.

"How?" Emerald breathed out. It should have been impossible for the girl to see her unless she had some sort of semblance that canceled hers, but the girl's eyes looked fooled as if looking right past Emerald.

Dual guns made sense. Hell, even the blades with them did too. Three maces did not. Neither did the bullshit the bastard was spewing out each time he swung at Mercury. What the hell was a crouching goliath? He knew people out here would do crazy things to be pirates, but this was a bit much. Not that it mattered since it somehow worked. Mercury got a 'prancing deathstalker' to the face and was sent flying back.

As he fell back to the ground, another thought arose in his mind. Maybe he had been wrong. Was this what actual pirates were like? Or was it only the concussion he probably just received?

"You!" Cinder was closing in. The moment was finally here. No more running around listening to buffoons nor fighting women who were stronger than they should have been. She finally had Jaune Arc within her grasp.

Sun Wukong turned around. "Me?" Cinder halted. So did the blond boy she didn't know. They stared at one another for a long time before the world burst into flames once more.

"Are you sure you're okay with this, Neo?" Jaune knew first hand what fighting someone you still considered a friend was like. Neo just gave him a thumbs up as she squared off against Torchwick.

An unspoken conversation seemed to pass between them before Torchwick sighed. "Look Neo, I thought I understood you pretty well, but I still can't wrap my head around this. What the hell are you doing?"

Neo slowly began reaching into her pocket. In perfect unison, Jaune and Torchwick yelled, "Neo, no!" Neo stopped, but only after her hand was already there.

Torchwick paused to share a meaningful look with Jaune. "Good man." Then he turned his attention back to Neo. "This is exactly what I'm talking about. You've been gone for barely any time and you're wielding that stuff left right and center — and don't give me that look! Yes, I like flashy things; no, trauma isn't the same. Now can you please be sensible for a moment?"

Neo crossed her arms; both Jaune and Torchwick stared at the hand that came out of her pocket clenched. "I get it, Neo," Torchwick went on. "You want to be on this journey for whatever reason, but you need to understand how crazy this is."

Neo shrugged. "So you don't really care how crazy it is?" Torchwick interpreted. Neo gave another short gesture. "You're saying that you've actually dreamed of this since you were younger and now you finally have a chance to make that dream come true, so it doesn't matter how crazy it might seem to others?" Neo nodded.

Torchwick pinched the bridge of his nose. "Okay, maybe that can be overlooked. I'll admit, you're your own person and I can't make you do anything. But come on Neo: the cheese! You can't just brush that off!"

Neo tilted her head and Torchwick's eyes widened in understanding. "I see. So you've found more people to fight for and now you're not using it for any selfish reasons, but for those of your nakama. You initially joined just to see your own dreams come true, but after going through so much with them already, you feel a bond and you wish to see their dreams come true too. That is why you now use your cheese for good?" Neo smiled.

"Fine then," Roman conceded. "Neo, yes."

He had to be here somewhere! Where had he gone to! Cinder knew that she was prone to anger, but it had hindered her here. How could she have mistaken one blond for another? No matter, she would just find him. After all, there was no way that they could get away. Yes, they were outnumbered, but her subordinates were some of the best.

Did she just watch Mercury get crumpled by a mouth mace? What the fuck was a 'slithering ursa' attack? Well, no matter; it only meant that he was dead weight. Then Emerald would — Emerald was fighting a girl who had her eyes closed. Emerald kept shouting for them to 'believe it' while the girl with her eyes closed insisted they not believe their eyes. That was fine. Throughout this entire experience, Torchwick had been the only one to keep his head about it — and he was on the ground in the fetal position with a smile on his face.

She fully stopped where she stood to observe the scene. The two that had chased her there skidded past her, gauging her with confusion. How much longer could she do this? Just how far could she even get if she continued to say this or that didn't matter? No matter her skills, only a fool could navigate a world of fools, and she was starting to fail. Then she saw him — not just him, them! The two responsible for her being here in the first place. If she could just push herself a bit further, she could succeed. It wouldn't be worth it — nothing she could fathom would be worth this — but she wouldn't be leaving empty handed. The two boys readying their stances before her as she finally moved hardly existed in her perception.

"My, my, what's making this ruckus?" A cool voice floated over the area. Cinder turned mechanically to see a tall, dark skinned man wearing what was clearly a marine uniform with a dark blue shirt under it. "I was trying to sleep."

"They attacked us," said Cardin, kicking mercury away from him. "We were just defending ourselves."

The man looked around, seeing the state of everyone present. "Is that so? Oh, I think I've heard of you guys. You made pretty big news with that court case: there's this guy blogging about you. Well, go ahead and go; I'll take care of these criminals."

And like that, they were gone. Cinder tried to chase after them, but the tall man had gotten in her way.

"That was so cool what you did back there, Blake!" Ruby excitedly praised her friend. "How did you do it?"

Blake thought for a bit before answering. "It was strange. I could see here in one place with my eyes, but I could feel her in another. It was faint and hard to tell, so I had to close my eyes to focus. It's actually the same way I can understand Neo."

They all turned to said person who was pointing a finger at herself. Blake explained, "I'm not hearing her really, but I can almost sense her intentions. I'm pretty sure Jaune can do it too, right?"

"Not really," came Jaune's blunt reply. "It's actually almost like I can hear a voice talking to me."

"That's — that's actually a better way of putting it," Blake amended. "It's like hearing a voice without words."

"No, it really does have words."

Blake was unsure how to respond to that, but experience had told her the best course of action. She shrugged and let it go before checking her log pose to make sure they were on track and going back to her book. Jaune enjoyed watching his friends relax after the events of the past few days. Ruby was dramatically explaining how she swore that part of her attack had flown past her scythe during her fight at the last island. Cardin was in a debate with Neptune about whether or not Neptune's trident was a similar concept to Cardin's three mace style and Sun stood mediator. The two metallic things Cardin threw on the ground went ignored.

"I feel like I just watched three deus ex machinas back to back," Foxy muttered as he watched a man who claimed to be from the IRS rant to the dark skinned marine about taxes. "First, that fire woman showed up and stopped us from challenging them, then that marine showed up, and now this?" He threw his hands up. "What could be next?"

A marine ship landed right behind him. Foxy slowly turned around to see a man with seventeen and a half cigars hanging from his mouth. "Where are they!" He shouted, a cloud of smoke billowing as he spoke. If Foxy was honest, it sounded closer to 'wrr rr ey,' but he could still tell. Mainly because the IRS guy had said the same thing.

"I don't want excuses! You all failed and you have nothing but your own actions to blame! I refuse to continue carrying you three through this, so don't fail me next time!" Cinder towered over her subordinates, her anger radiating over them.

Mercury, who was laying back against the side of their boat, spoke up, "He took my legs."

"That sounds like an excuse Mercury. I don't want to hear about it again."

He nodded in response. The others weren't much better; Emerald complained that the girl named Blake could see past her semblance, and Torchwick said he was proud of Neo.

She took back the helm and surveyed the sea. Her minions rowed as fast they could, and they better be able to rival that contraption her prey sailed in. They weren't too far ahead of her, having left only a few minutes before. It was possible!

"There's something wrong with the water!" Emerald informed her.

"I don't care if the sky comes crashing down!" Cinder yelled. "Just catch them!" The waves grew larger, knocking against the side of their ship and rocking them around. They powered through, growing nearer. She noticed that they must have slowed down ahead of her. Unlike her own group, they must have been concerned about the weather — how adorably pathetic.

"Ma'am, are you sure —"

"Yes!" Cinder snapped. How dare she doubt her when they were this close? It didn't matter that the sea was starting to bulge under her prey. It didn't matter that —

There was a thundering sound that silenced everything around her. The sea burst into a giant geyser, and she watched the speck she had been chasing sail up it. It almost looked like it was flying with how it was clearly once a bullhead.

In one final, rage-filled scream, Cinder gave up on chasing Jaune D. Arc.

AN:

I'm not the most proud of this chapter. I wouldn't say it's bad; if it was, I wouldn't even think about posting it. I just feel that if I was either better at writing or if I just had more patience, I could have made it better. My biggest issue was that this ended up being an in-between chapter. Consider it my canon filler. I just finished wrapping up the last big part and I've been excited to get to the next (if you can't tell by the ending there), so I felt that I rushed this a tad too much. I also had some ideas that I sort of forced to still be present, but I hope they didn't feel too forced.

With that small bit of self depreciation out of the way, I'm so excited for the next arc. I have such a funny idea that I've been cackling to myself about it at work. I just hope that I can flush it out and do it justice.

What I'm uncertain of is my side plots. I've been working on mostly broad ideas, giving myself end goals and vague means to get there and filling in as I go. That worked fine when I had plenty of time to revise, but I don't really have that luxury anymore. I'm now at a crossroads. Do I use my material now or do I stall and save it for later? I've been doing my best to have new content and stuff to laugh at every chapter. I know there's moments where the story needed to be driven and the comedy had to take the back seat for a moment, but it wasn't because I had a lack of material to use. I don't really want there to be a moment where the story is just moving on while the comedy, which should be the heart of this story, stutters and lags behind.

I don't know. If you can't tell, I can be pretty insecure. Not really in what people say but in what I produce. I honestly shouldn't care so much about a crack fic I'm writing to help practice writing, but then again, it's the longest thing I've written. I get baffled each time I check my word count. This shit lags out my phone whenever I try to write on it. Like, other apps are lagging and google docs crashes sort of stuff. I probably shouldn't keep it all in one google doc, but…I sort of like seeing that gigantic word count go up. Well, I'll stop awkwardly rambling now.

Anyways, next chapter: A Sea in the Sky