Lorick stared up at the child mounted on top of him with a calm that didn't match his situation. He felt the sharp edge of the child's blade at his throat and how easily it cut into his old skin. Lorick's would-be killer weighed as much as a leaf but the Marine captain didn't move or push him off. The silent battle of wills was broken by the click of a flintlock pistol being aimed at the child's head.

"Let go of the captain, now," Mara's voice was cool and collected, her hand as steady as her piercing gaze when the child with thunder-blue eyes turned his attention to her. He glared down the barrel of the pistol with nothing more than cold determination.

"Mara. Go and get Marcus, will you?" Lorick's voice shattered the three-way stalemate between them all. The Ensign locked eyes with the Captain and she gritted her teeth. Slowly, she pulled the gun away and stomped away. When the doors slammed shut, the Captain looked up at his captor.

"Don't be too hard on her. The pistol was just for show. My name is Lorick Tager. What's yours, if I may ask?" Questioned Lorick and the child's hard stare shifted into something distant and hazy.

"Casair… Casair D. Wolfe," He rasped out, and his grip was beginning to lose its strength, "Wolfe. With an E."

"Well then, Casair D. Wolfe with an E. Why don't you want me touching your sword? Is it special to you?"

"... Yes," He wheezed out, "It's mine. Not yours."

"Of course. I'm sorry for touching it without your permission. How about you lie back down and wait for the doctor to come back? You're safe here, there's no need to worry."

The Marine Captain watched the resolve waver in the child's piercing blue eyes. Eventually, he nodded and when he did, it was as if the strings holding him up had been cut. He crumpled on top of the Marine Captain, who shifted his body and placed him back on the bed.

"Where… Where am I? Who are you?" He asked the Captain as if he hadn't just held him hostage. Lorick's lips quirked upwards as he forced himself to sit and brushed himself down.

"Well, let's start with the simple question, shall we?" Lorick smiled as he sat across the child, "My name is Lorick Tager and I am the Marine Captain in charge of the 52nd Branch. This here is the infirmary of our home base, located on Rockshi Island. You're quite lucky to be alive, you know that, young man? We just suffered a terrible storm and one of my men found you washed up, caught on a rock."

"Storm…?" He mumbled aloud, his eyes flashing with recognition, but he seemed more confused than ever.

"Yes, a storm. It just blew in without warning, but we weathered it. The most important thing now, however, is that you're safe here, young man. Marcus, our doctor, will fix you right up, and we'll get you back home. So where did you blow in from, Casair? Is there anyone we should contact?" Lorick's gentle, encouraging tone was met with silence. It wasn't the sort of silence meant to hide something, however, but it was rather the drawn-out silence of someone who didn't know what to say.

"... I don't know. I don't remember," Casair eventually said and Lorick's brow furrowed slightly.

"I see," He said slowly, "Well, I'm sure it'll come back to you. What matters is that you rest and recover. We can sort out the details later."

"... Thank you. And sorry. For almost killing you," The Marine Captain watched as the child forced himself to bring the long, heavy blade up to his side and let it rest on the pillow next to him. Almost as if it was a sibling or a family member sharing the bed. He even went to the effort of tucking it in.

"It's quite alright, young man. No foul was done. Now get some rest, will you? Marcus will be here soon and he's going to get himself into a right tizzy with you."

"... What's a tizzy?"

"Shehehe, well, it's when-!"

The doors slammed open wide, and it was as if a gunshot had rung out, "The hell do you mean you're already up!?"

"Follow my finger with your eyes for me," The strange man in the white coat asked me and so I did it. No reason not to, and I was bored.

"Alright, that checks out," The weird guy who yelled at me before scribbled something down on a piece of paper. I thought so, at least. Everything really hurt, and I didn't wanna move because the bed was super comfy.

"Okay, I don't think you're suffering any brain damage, thank god. Do you feel anything like pressure or a weight on your skull?"

"No," Ouch. Even speaking hurt, though not as much as before. That wasn't fair, right? Or did I do something wrong? Could you speak in the wrong way?

"Right… Well, it's only been a couple of days so far, but I think it's pretty obvious you're suffering from retrograde amnesia. Probably a combination of malnutrition and physical trauma, even if it doesn't seem like you've suffered any major injuries to the head," He said a lot of words that I didn't get, but I just wanted to know one thing.

"Am I going to die?"

"Not if I have anything to say about it," That wasn't how death worked, but it was nice to hear anyway. I turned my head and watched him work while he was seated at his desk, his back turned to me.

"We're past the danger zone now, okay? Your injuries are healing well and as long as you keep at it with the paste and IV drip, you'll be able to eat real food again. From there, a few months of physical therapy and you'll be right as rain, kid."

"I want something sweet. And something spicy," I guessed I said something weird because he made a nose that was like blowing his nose, "Paste is boring. Tastes like dirt."

"Don't let Laura hear you say that, kid. And you're not interested in what I said about your amnesia? That's the condition of losing your memories, by the way."

"Oh. Is that why I can't remember anything?"

"Well, let's find out exactly what you're missing," Marcus rolled over to my bed with his chair and his brown eyes were looking down at another piece of paper on his notepad. He glanced up at me, and he reminded me of the Captain, even if he didn't smile as much.

"I've got a series of questions here. If you're up for it, we can go through it and see where you stand with your memories."

"Sure. I'm bored," And being bored was way worse than being hurt. He asked me a bunch of questions and I answered them as best as I could. Some stuff came more naturally than others, like what were the four Blues and stuff like that. Apparently, we were in the East Blue? But I didn't know the difference between the four, so I didn't care. He carried on about other stuff like the World Government, the Marines and what a pirate was until he glanced over to my sword.

"Right, so you have the basic knowledge I'd expect around your age, so that's good. And let's start with that for more personal information. Casair, how old do you think you are?"

"I'm…fifteen?" That was weird. Why was I so unsure of the answer?

"Alright. And how did you come by your sword?" This time, I did turn my head to look at the sword. I told Marcus before that my chest became warm and tight whenever I saw it and he said that was 'probably' normal. There was something about it that made me never, ever want to let it go.

"I don't know," But that didn't really help me if I didn't know a damned thing about it.

"Mhm. What is your place of birth?"

"Dunno," I said back and that was the whole conversation really. He asked me about my family, if I remembered anything before the storm and it was the same answer.

I did not know. I didn't remember anything. Only my name and the fact that this sword was important to me. Who I was, who I knew and what I had been through had been lost to me. I think I was supposed to feel something about that, but I didn't. It was just a fact, one I didn't really care about.

I had my sword. I was alive. I was bored. Two out of three wasn't that bad, so I took what I could.

"That's it. We should run some tests, but it's imperative that you get rest before anything else. At the very least, we have your name so we can use that to track down your relatives. Get some sleep, kid," Marcus sounded hopeful, which was nice, I guessed. But there was this strange feeling in my chest when he talked about relatives. It was the opposite of what happened when I looked at my sword, but not nearly as strong.

But I decided to take his advice and let sleep take me. Not like I had much else to do.

"You know, you're quite the remarkable young man."

"Am I?"

"Marcus has been fascinated by just how quickly you're recovering," Lorick smiled and it was a nice smile that the old man wore. He sat across from me as he always did on the other bed when we spoke. I wondered if his peg leg hurt when he was standing up and that's why he preferred sitting down. By now, I was able to push myself up and sit up straight, so it was easier to look him in the eye.

"A couple of weeks and I've been told that you'll be able to eat solid foods soon. If that isn't remarkable, I don't know what is," He chuckled softly, but his smile gave way to a sad, solemn frown.

"But, I'm afraid I have bad news, Casair. Headquarters finally got back to me on my enquiries and it was no good. As far as the World Government is aware, you either don't exist or you came from a kingdom outside its jurisdiction," The Marine Captain's words stayed in the air between us for a while as I thought it over.

"Oh, okay. Thanks for trying anyway, but I had a feeling that you wouldn't find anyone," Talking was a lot easier now thankfully and that made conversation easier. It helped pass the time from just lying in bed all day.

"You don't seem overly concerned about the lack of family, Casair. Aren't you scared?" I was asked and I wondered. Was I scared? I thought about it for some time, the idea of being alone. Of having no one that knows me or anything about me. I thought about it and I shook my head.

"I think I'm glad. It means no one is worrying about me," I answered what felt right and Lorick stared at me strangely with a distant gaze.

"Are you not curious about your memories?"

I tilted my head at the question and I glanced at the sword at my side. Was I curious? Did I care? I think I did, but only a little part of me was, but I just couldn't really muster up the energy. No, that wasn't right. It wasn't there in the first place.

"I think I'm fine," I answered honestly, "I have my sword. I'm alive and I have a bed. Some people might not even have that."

Lorick smiled, but it wasn't his usual warm and welcoming ones. It didn't reach his eyes, and it didn't stretch the lines on his face as they usually did.

"Remarkable indeed."

Today was, by far, the most exciting day of my life. Because today! I, Casair D. Wolfe, am finally going to! Eat! Real! Food! No more paste, no more boring cups of water and whatever the stuff going into my arm is! Real food with real species and real ingredients!

What were they going to make for me? A nice roast? Maybe a steak sandwich? I could honestly go for a beef stroganoff right now, but what will be the beverage? Water is fine, but I've drunk so much of it and it's such a boring drink. Cola would be amazing but honestly, anything other than-

I stopped thinking about food for a moment and turned my head toward the door. I frowned as a feeling crept on my neck and-

"'Ello 'ello! Are ya up, lad?" A new voice this time called out and it was deep and bellowing. A very different voice, but it was a comforting one.

"Pete, pipe down, will you? If he's asleep, you're going to give the kid a fright," Another new voice spoke up, softer and weaker than the other one. For some reason, I didn't like it, but I brushed it off.

"Both of you be quiet," Oh, I recognize this voice. It was the lady who pointed a gun at my head, "You wanted to come along, fine. But don't give me a headache in the meanwhile."

"Don'tcha worry about a thin', ma'am! I just wanted to see the lad, is all. God knows that anyone bein' cared for by the sour-faced quack could do with a friendly face."

"Mr Marcus isn't a duck though?" I called out as the three of them entered my view. I recognized the woman with the white coat, but she had two men with her. A fat, short one pushing a trolly and a tall, thin one holding a bunch of books in his arms. The woman, Mara, walked

"Heeeey, look at that! Yer branding spankin' new!" The fat one's chins quaked with his voice and his lips parted in a wide, open smile, "And hey, yer right, Marcus ain't a duck. Ducks are cute and he looks like he's suckin' on a sour lemon."

"Yes, he's very grumpy. He didn't like it when I tried to go to the bathroom by myself," I nodded and the fat man snorted heavily before pushing the trolley to my bedside, "My name is Casair. Casair D. Wolfe. With an E at the end of Wolfe."

For a second, my scalp itched. A flicker of something faint, a whisper in my head and I saw the round man's eyes glazed over for a brief moment. But as soon as it happened, it was gone and he smirked at me.

"Casair D. Wolfe with an E at the end of Wolfe? A bit long, ain't it?"

"Wha-, no! That's not my name at all!"

"But it's wots'cha said, ain't it?"

"Pete, stop being a nuisance for once in your life and give him his food," Mara snapped, and the fatty laughed heartily before placing a tray on my lap. I felt the warmth of the plate underneath the wooden tray and next to it was a glass filled with brown, milky liquid. He lifted the dome around the plate and-

"Heard ya wanted somethin' spicy and sweet, so here ya go! Laura whipped it up special and I can guarantee its quality myself!"

"Yeah, because you cleaned out the whole pot."

There were some more words, but honestly, I wasn't listening any more. After weeks and weeks of just sitting in my bed, counting the ceiling tiles, just doing nothing but waiting to get better, I was stunned. In front of me was a dish that was, by far, the most tantalizing and colourful I had ever seen in the weeks of my life. It smelled like the sea but hot and sizzling with cooked curled shrimp, chopped green onions, peppers, little bits of chorizo sausage and all with a bed of cooked rice.

I guessed another person might be frustrated that they don't remember anything about themselves but remember what a jambalaya was and how it was made.

Those people had probably never gone hungry before. The kind of hunger where anything and everything started to look like a meal. Where you couldn't fall asleep because the painful pangs wouldn't let you.

"Hey, see! Told ya he would love it! And ya wanted to give him porridge, Ensign!" I couldn't resist any longer. I took the fork and dug in. Instantly, the spice hit my tongue like a scorching oven and it burned so good. I managed four forkfuls of rice, shrimp and bell peppers before I had to stop and took a gulp of chocolate milk.

Spicy and sweet. I didn't even mean it back then, not really. I mean, they saved my life. I was grateful that they gave me anything at all. What right did I have to demand special treatment?

"Slow down, brat. Try and enjoy your food rather than inhale it. It isn't going to grow legs and run away," The nasty woman said, but it was good advice so I took it. I still had more than enough anyway.

"Now, we aren't just here to bring you food and books. Marcus is going to be gone for a few days, travelling to some of the villages to treat their injuries. He says you don't need constant supervision any more, but just to be on the safe side, Chief Petty Officers Pete and Jeffords here have agreed to keep you company and stop you from doing anything stupid."

"Is this really fine?" I couldn't help but ask, "I mean, you're all Marines. Don't you have more important jobs to do than worry about me?"

"Around these parts? Gegegege, nope! In our little corner of Blue, nothin' happens much. The closest to excitement we get is when some stray animals wander into town, and we chase 'em off," Pete sat down beside me on another bed and I heard it creak beneath his weight.

"And besides," He looked at me with a wide, goofy grin, "I've been wantin' to meet with'cha for a while now, lad! It was me and Jeffords here that hauled yer bony arse out of the sea!"

My forkful of jambalaya stopped cold. I looked at the pair without meaning to as the gravity of the situation fell upon me. I owed these two marines my life, and I realised that I had absolutely nothing that I could give them to make up for that fact.

"More like Pete did. He just dragged me along. Honestly, I'm shocked that you've recovered so well," The lanky one spoke up, having placed the books on another bed. I didn't miss the way his eyes were glued to my sword for longer than I felt comfortable with, but he stopped soon enough.

"I… Thank you. For saving me," I didn't know what else to say. What else could I give?

"Heh, don't worry about it, lad. We're Marines, ya know? Savin' people is what we do," Pete's smile took on a softer, warmer air about it and I nodded to his words. What else could I do? I took another, slower, bite of my meal and the sweet taste of shrimp mixed with the heat and salty sausage. It was like fire on my tongue and by god, it was amazing.

"If there's nothing else, I've got work to do. You two, keep an eye on him. Make sure he doesn't try to kill himself by going to the bathroom alone or something."

"That was one time. And I almost did it," I frowned at the woman naval officer who rolled her eyes at me. She left as suddenly as she came without a word of goodbye or anything close.

"Gegege, don't take the Ensign's words to heart, lad. She's a big ol' softy, really. She came here to check in on ya, after all."

"She held a gun to my head."

"Aye, exactly! She hates usin' guns, see. Too finicky for her. If she really wanted to stop ya, she would've been like -bam!- and yer head would've been clean off," Pete's sagely nodding was followed by a haunted look in Jefford's eyes, "And besides, ya held yer sword to the throat of our cap'n. Fair's fair, right?"

"Fair's fair," I agreed with him because it was. I carried on eating for a short while before I spoke again.

"You two don't have to stay here," I told them after swallowing, "I'm not going anywhere, and it's boring around here."

"Actually… Pete, do you mind? With everything that's been going on, I haven't had the chance to see Raku since the storm and-"

"Yeah, yeah, go on, ya skiver. I'll be fine by meself," Pete waved off Jeffords, who gave a thankful smile before turning to me.

"Oh, uhh, pretty rude of me to leave so soon, but I'm glad to see you're doing well. But it's Pete you should be thankful to, not me. He did most of the heavy lifting. Good luck not trying to punch him though."

"Idjet, piss off already!" Pete snapped, but there was no real heat. I waved goodbye to Jeffords, and he did the same, but I didn't miss the way his eyes lingered on my sword. Soon after, it was just me and Pete.

"I don't like the way he looks at my sword," I said to Pete, and I got a chuckle in response.

"Oh yeah, Jefford's is a bit of a hungry bastard. Ain't bad, but he's young and desperate to impress his lady, ya know?"

"He can impress her with his own sword," I didn't know what it was exactly that I said that suddenly caused Pete to double over laughing, but I wasn't very impressed, "This sword is mine, understand? It's mine."

"Gegegege, cool yer jets, brat. Ain't no one is gonna steal from ya. We're Marines, not pirates," Pete wiped his eyes, his face split into two with his wide smile. He jerked his head at the books just beside me, a gleam in his eye.

"Figured ya bored out of yer mind without being able to move around, so we got'cha some books. Ya can read, right?"

"Yeah, I can. And thank you for the books, by the way. I…" I trailed off as I looked over everything brought before me. Not only that, and I didn't really know why, but my words trailed off.

"Somethin' the matter, kid?"

"I don't know how to repay any of you," I admitted bluntly, and I guessed I surprised the fat Marine with how blunt I was, "You saved my life. You've given me food and books. You let me keep my sword. Even after I held it to your Captain's throat. I don't know how to repay any of you after all of this."

Pete's flabby face, which seemed used to constant smirking, settled on a warm smile as he chuckled.

And then he punched the top of my head. Which was weird because one, it didn't really hurt. Two, I felt like I was going to get punched, and I tried to dodge it, but he was way faster than I thought he would be.

"Idjet, we're marines! Helpin' others is what we're supposed to do. There ain't no debt or whatever ya thinkin' of to pay back, ya hear?" Pete crossed his arms and huffed as I blandly rubbed the top of my head. It didn't throb or tingle or anything. The pain I was expecting never came. For some reason, that made me smile a tiny bit.

"But, I owe you my life. If it wasn't for you-"

"Ya don't owe anyone a single damned thing, kid. Lives aren't meant to be owed or owned," Pete grumbled under his breath and crossed his arms, a slight tightening of his lips as he spoke, "Hell, even if ya tell me yer want to be a pirate or a rebel, I still would've dragged ya out of the ocean."

A part of me didn't believe him, not really. But for some reason, I knew he was telling the truth. It really didn't matter to him, did it? Even if the storm was worse, even if the tides almost swallowed me whole, it didn't matter to him at all.

"You're a good man," I voiced my thoughts aloud, and it was as if I struck him with my sword. He recovered fast, and whatever dark emotion I felt was covered up by his easy grin and deep chortle.

"Heh, yer gonna make me blush, kid. Keep those kinds of words fer the ladies, eh?" His grin was suddenly swiped away with a concerned frown, "Hey, old are ya anyway?"

"Fifteen. I think."

"Ya think?"

"The doctor I had something called amnesia? It means I don't have all of my memories or something," I explained to him and Pete grimaced.

"Nasty business, that. Ya gonna try and get them back after yer all better?"

"I don't know. I don't really think I care," I tilted my head as I looked down at my sword, a surge of warmness welling up within me at the sight of it, "I… If I can't repay any of you because you don't want me to, I don't know what I'm going to do."

"Well," Pete said slowly, and he leaned forward, locking his fingers together and resting his elbow on his knees, "Let's take it slow, alright? There anythin' ya interested in specifically?"

I thought for a bit and it didn't take long to answer him, "My sword. I want to learn how to use it. And food."

"Food?"

"Food," I nodded seriously at the amused Marine, "Food is important. I want to try a lot of foods from different places. I think I could die happy if I ate a meal from everywhere, at least once."

"Well, there ya go! Ya already know what ya want!" Pete laughed merrily, his smile no longer masking his emotions, "But make sure to lift yer weights and do yer runs! Don't want to end up like little ol' me now, would ya?"

"Why not? You're a good man. I like you," I told him and again, he just chuckled. This time, he didn't flinch.

"Well, I try. Now, I'll leave ya-"

"Uhm," I interrupted him before he stood up and Pete sent me a questioning glance, "Could you stay?"

"What's the matter, kid? Don't wanna enjoy yer meal in peace?"

"Not in silence. It gets… Quiet here, when I'm by myself. I don't like it," I told him and his grin turned softer, gentler, "I don't mind you being here while I eat. We could talk more?"

"Heh, sure, kid. Let me introduce myself proper-like; Name's Pete Switx, Chief Petty Officer. Nice to finally meet ya," He offered me his hand and I took it. It was a fat, pudgy hand, but some part of me felt like he could break my hand if he gave it even a tiny squeeze.

"Casair," I said with a smile, "Casair D. Wolfe. Wolfe with an E."