Naruto reached out and traced the edge of a poster with one clawed finger. His eyes narrowed slightly, thoughtful. Not bad. Enough to make him work for it.
"Yeah... this'll do."
He carefully peeled the parchment free from the board and held it up, letting the words catch the afternoon light.
Tango Balik.
The sketch was rough but distinct — a man with a square jaw covered with thick metal plating, one eye hidden behind a cracked lens, the other narrowed with practiced malice. He looked tired. Angry. Dangerous.
The description was brief, but clear.
Ex-Marine. Dishonorably discharged. Now engaged in weapons smuggling. Suspected in the raiding of multiple merchant vessels along this route. Believed to be operating from somewhere along the eastern cliffs.
Naruto lowered the paper slightly, scanning the street as a breeze tugged gently at the corners. The town buzzed around him — dockhands cursing over tangled ropes, a vendor loudly arguing prices with a sailor over crates of salted meat, a child running barefoot between barrels.
"Ex-marine, huh..." he muttered, voice low and even. His ears twitched slightly. "Then maybe the marines can help give me an idea where to start."
He folded the poster once and tucked it beneath his arm. Then, without another word, he turned from the board and walked back through the winding streets, the sun warm on his fur and the scent of the harbor thick in the air.
He passed the same uneven cobblestones he'd tread the night before, this time walking taller — more sure of himself. His steps carried him north, past a row of shuttered shops and up the gentle rise where the stone and timber of the island gave way to the cleaner whitewash of official buildings.
The Marine outpost stood ahead, Its doors were open, Inside, the main chamber buzzed with activity — boots thudding across floorboards, voices muttering over reports, the faint scrape of chalk against the bounty update board in the back. Uniformed men and women moved in and out of the adjoining rooms, a half-dozen conversations overlapping as field reports and patrol assignments passed from one desk to the next.
But when Naruto stepped through the door — heavy footfalls ringing with the weight of his bigger body — the entire roomstopped.
Heads turned.
Chairs scraped as a few Marines subtly shifted toward their weapons.
The low murmur of voices fell away, replaced by a brittle silence.
Half a dozen pairs of eyes locked on him — not with immediate hostility, but with sharp, uncertain suspicion. He stood in the doorway, his broad shoulders brushing either side of the frame, red fur catching the afternoon light. His tall frame loomed with power barely held in check, the metal barrels of his arms catching a soft gleam as they hung at his sides. The blue diamond on his forehead glowed faintly, and his expression was calm, but wary.
A younger marine near the front narrowed her eyes. "...What the hell is that thing?"
Another shifted uncomfortably. "Is that a dog…with guns for arms!?…"
Naruto raised his hands quickly with his palms open, metal claws tilted up in a gesture of surrender. His arms creaked softly as he moved them, motion deliberate and slow.
"Whoa, whoa—easy," he said, voice clear but laced with dry amusement. "I'm not here to make a mess. Just came to ask about a bounty."
From between his metallic fingers, he held out the folded poster — Tango Balik's sketch faintly visible on the front.
No one moved at first.
Then, from the back corner of the room, a familiar voice broke the tension.
"Wait a second…"
Naruto's eyes flicked toward the desk beneath the mounted bounty board. The older marine from the night before — tall, square-jawed, with streaks of gray in his temples and a logbook still open in front of him — had frozen mid-note. His brow furrowed beneath a weathered cap as he stared at Naruto's face, trying to match what he saw now to what he remembered.
Naruto offered a sheepish smile and shrugged one broad shoulder.
"It's me. Naruto. The guy who brought in Redcap last night?"
The old marine blinked. Once. Then twice.
His eyes widened slightly as recognition finally hit, and his gaze swept down the length of Naruto's transformed body — from the heavy gun-barrels fused to his arms, to the red fur curling along his cream-colored fur, down to the clawed feet planted firmly on the tiled floor.
"N...Naruto?" he said slowly, voice laced with disbelief.
At his hesitation, another marine — younger, lean, with a half-buttoned jacket turned to look between them. "You knowthis guy?"
The old man didn't look away. He scratched the back of his neck, lips pulling tight into a bemused frown.
"Y-Yeah. But he was a lot smaller before."
That did it.
A few of the Marines chuckled — the tension bleeding out of the room like air from a slashed sail. Shoulders relaxed. Hands fell away to their sides. The younger marine with the half-buttoned jacket gave Naruto a second, longer look and let out a low whistle.
"No kidding... I thought that the Redcap story was a report from a senile old man."
Naruto chuckled softly and stepped farther inside, the weight of his footfalls making the floor creak. He approached the central desk and laid the poster down with a quiet thump.
"Appreciate the warm welcome," he muttered dryly.
The older marine grunted as he leaned forward and picked up the sheet, placing on reading glasses to scan the name.
"Tango Balik," he said, frowning slightly. "You're thinking about going after this one?"
Naruto nodded. "Trying to get a feel for who he is. Thought maybe you had something that wasn't printed on the poster."
He paused, eyes scanning the room briefly. "I don't need his life story or anything. Just… enough to know where to start."
The older marine stared at the poster a moment longer, then let out a slow breath through his nose. He gave Naruto a short nod and gestured with one hand.
"Wait here a sec," he said. "I'll pull his file. Should still have the old incident reports."
Naruto nodded and leaned casually against the front counter, his elbow resting lightly on the edge as his heavy frame shifted with a soft creak of metal. One of his arms tapped absently against the wood, the clawed digits curling in slow rhythm as he watched the room.
Around him, the other Marines had started to return to their duties, though not without the occasional glance in his direction. A few still looked wary. Others were clearly curious — casting sideways looks at the oversized ears, the mechanical limbs, the heavy presence he carried without effort.
One muttered something under his breath.
"Looks like a big rabbit…"
"Rabbit?... with those ears? That's a dog… A scary one," another whispered back.
Naruto pretended not to hear them — though the slight twitch of his ear gave him away.
He kept his eyes on the older marine, who had disappeared into a back room, the door swinging shut behind him with a dull click.
Naruto stayed quiet, still leaning, calm but watchful — the bounty poster resting beside him on the counter.
The older marine returned a minute later, a single sheet of yellowed paper in hand — not a full dossier, but something official enough to be kept under lock and dust. He didn't hand it over. Just glanced at it, then met Naruto's eyes again across the counter.
"Alright. Tango Balik," he said, voice low but clear. "Favored heavy weapons — miniguns, rocket launchers, anything with kick. Had a reputation for getting up close when he didn't need to. Liked using daggers."
Naruto stayed quiet, arms folded across his chest. His ears twitched faintly.
The marine continued, tapping the edge of the paper with two fingers.
"Discharged four years ago. Not quiet, either — court-martialed after an op gone wrong. Disobeyed orders, killed several civilians during an operation."
Naruto's expression didn't change, but his eyes narrowed slightly.
"He vanished after that. Resurfaced a year later working black market arms deals through pirate channels. Most of the reports are vague — always second hand. But the details repeat: he rigs his territory, guards his caches, and doesn't leave survivors if he's cornered."
The marine paused, then lowered the paper.
"Last sighting was about two weeks ago. One of our supply patrols found a ship half-sunk east of here. Cargo missing, crew unconscious or dead."
He looked Naruto over again — not hostile now, just appraising.
"He's smart. Methodical. Trained. Not like Redcap — no swinging chains and barking threats. If he knows you're coming, he'll make sure you never see him twice."
Naruto let that sit for a second. Then gave a small nod, slow and steady.
"Eastern cliffs, right?"
"Closest thing we've got to a pattern," the man replied. "Used to be a coastal quarry. Stone shipping. Long since shut down. Now it's just busted scaffolding and a few half-dead caves. Not the kind of place anyone goes unless they're hiding something."
He paused, then added with a tired shrug, "We put in a request for backup to scout the area further… but it's a low-priority shipping lane. Won't get any attention until a higher-up decides it's worth it."
Naruto reached forward and picked the bounty poster back up, sliding it neatly into the pouch beneath his cloak.
"Thanks," he said.
The marine raised an eyebrow. "You sure about this one?"
Naruto stepped back from the counter, eyes calm.
"If he's there, I'll find him."
Then he turned and walked out, the sound of his footfalls fading into the hallway beyond. As he stepped outside, the quarry was still turning over in his head — but his stomach had other priorities.
It gave a low, undeniable growl — one that echoed just enough in his chest to be annoying. He paused at the edge of the main road, glanced down at his belly, and muttered, "Alright, alright… food first."
The streets had grown quieter with the sun starting its descent. Vendors were packing up, the scent of grilled fish and oil still hanging in the air as carts rattled past. Naruto walked a slow loop through the upper part of town until he caught sight of a small wooden sign swaying slightly from rusted hooks — the image of a coiled eel next to the words The Gutter Dock painted in old blue paint.
It wasn't much, but it was open.
He stepped inside, the heavy door creaking on its hinge.
The moment he entered, the noise dipped.
Heads turned. Conversation paused. Eyes locked onto him — broad-shouldered, red furred, and armed without needing weapons. Naruto felt the familiar weight of judgment settle across the room. Some of it was curiosity. Some of it wasn't.
He said nothing. Just walked calmly to the nearest open stool and sat down at the bar. It creaked beneath his weight, but held.
The bartender — an older man with a gray beard and deep lines across his brow — looked him over for a moment with a tight-lipped expression. Not hostile. Just wary.
Naruto met his gaze evenly. "Steak. Rice. Water," he said, voice even. "If you've got it."
The man hesitated. Then gave a short nod and reached for a mug. He filled it from a large clay jug and slid it across the counter.
Naruto caught it in one hand and took a long drink, sighing quietly through his nose. He set the mug down and leaned forward slightly, resting his elbows on the bar as his ears twitched lazily behind him. The warmth of the room started to settle over his shoulders — voices rising again, slowly, as the tavern eased back into its rhythm.
He didn't notice the three thugs approaching at first. But he felt them — that shift in air, that tightening in the room. The way noise around him dipped again just slightly, like the sound was holding its breath.
The first voice was slurred, loud enough to cut through the bar. "Hey."
Naruto turned his head, calm.
Three men stood behind him — the one in front was heavyset, red-faced, his shirt stained with sweat and booze. The two behind him were lankier, but just as sour-looking.
"You some kinda freak?" the fat one asked. "Walkin' in here all puffed-up like a damn mascot."
Naruto blinked once. "Just here to eat," he said simply. "No trouble."
The fat one snorted and stepped closer. "Trouble's already here, long-ears." His hand drifted to his belt — and in a flash, he drew a pistol and pressed it forward. "Freaks like you belong on a leash."
The room froze. A few people gasped. One stool scraped loudly as someone stood up, then immediately sat back down, wide-eyed.
Naruto stared at the man, ears low, expression flat.
Then — in a blur — his hand shot out.
He caught the thug by the neck with a single clawed hand and lifted him off the floor like a sack of damp flour. The pistol clattered to the floor with a metallicclunk, bouncing once before spinning to a stop.
The thug's face turned redder, feet kicking lightly as he hung in the air, choking slightly.
The two behind him immediately dropped their weapons — one clattering onto a table, the other into his own foot — and stumbled backward.
"I said," Naruto repeated, voice calm but heavy, "I'm just here to eat."
He gave the man a quick shove, still holding his neck — just enough to make a point — before letting go.
The fat thug stumbled back, gasping, one hand at his throat. He didn't say a word. Just snatched his pistol up and bolted for the door, the two others scrambling after him.
The tavern stayed quiet for a moment longer.
Naruto turned slightly, looked at the stunned crowd, and offered a small, sheepish smile as he rubbed the back of his head. "Sorry about that."
The bartender returned then, setting a plate of grilled steak and seasoned rice in front of him with practiced ease.
"Don't worry about it," the man said gruffly. "Those three? They're always stirring shit. Honestly, you did me a favor."
Naruto nodded, murmured a quiet "thanks," and picked up his fork.
Or tried to.
His metal fingers clicked against the handle, too thick and awkward for the fine grip. He adjusted, tried again. The fork wobbled, twisted sideways, and clattered back onto the plate with a dulltink.
He stared at it.
Then, without a word, he picked up the entire plate with both hands and brought it straight to his mouth — shoveling in a mouthful of rice and steak in one quick bite. No finesse. Just food.
He chewed slowly, calmly, like this was the most natural thing in the world.
A few nearby patrons watched in silence. One of them blinked. Another shifted their seat slightly farther away.
Naruto didn't notice — or didn't care. He took another bite straight from the edge of the plate, tail flicking lazily behind him as the warmth of the food started to settle over his shoulders.
he had a few more plates.
Each time, the bartender brought the food without a word, and each time, Naruto picked it up and shoveled it directly into his mouth — no fork, no fuss. Just raw efficiency. One plate after another disappeared like firewood into a furnace.
People around him watched, half amused, half unsure what to think. Some chuckled behind their mugs. Others shifted quietly away as he tilted the last plate up and slurped the rice straight off it.
By the third helping, someone near the end of the bar muttered, "Guess it's true what they say — feed a beast, and it stops biting."
Naruto didn't respond. Just set the plate down with a satisfied grunt and reached for his coin pouch.
He pulled out a few folded bills and slid them across the counter. "For the food," he said simply.
But the bartender pushed the money back with a shake of his head. "Don't worry about it."
Naruto blinked. "Huh?"
The older man leaned on the counter, drying his hands with a frayed cloth. "That little stunt earlier — with those idiots? That's worth more than a few plates of meat. Even if they show up tomorrow, it'll be quieter tonight."
Naruto studied him for a moment, then nodded once. "Thanks."
The bartender gave him a short wave as he turned to go.
Naruto stepped back out into the night, his steps heavy but steady. The town had settled — lanterns flickering low along the streets, the breeze cool and quiet now, rustling old signs and laundry lines.
He walked slowly toward the motel, the soft thud of his metal feet echoing faintly against the stone. When he reached his room, he pushed the door open and ducked inside — only to pause at the threshold.
The room felt… smaller than he remembered.
The bed was low. The ceiling a little too close. The whole space felt like it had shrunk overnight, though he knew it hadn't.
Naruto glanced down at himself, ears twitching slightly.
"Yeah… probably not the best way to sleep," he muttered.
A soft red glow began to pulse along his arms and shoulders. It crept across his chest and down through his legs, not blinding or loud — just a quiet shimmer of shifting light. His body compressed smoothly, his bulk drawing inward until he stood once again in his smaller form — leaner, furred, no longer towering over the lamp by the bedside.
He exhaled.
Then he flopped backward onto the mattress without a second thought. It creaked beneath him, but held.
His ears sprawled out to either side, brushing the edge of the pillow. He stared up at the ceiling, arms resting behind his head, his tail twitching once as he let the silence settle.
Today had been… a lot.
He got some training in. Got his first real bounty target. Didn't get shot. Didn't starve.
Not a bad day, all things considered.
He let his eyes drift closed, the weight of sleep slowly pulling at him, and for the first time in a long while — he didn't feel like he had to keep one ear open.
-
The morning came slow and quiet, drawn in by the pale glow slipping through the edges of the curtains. Naruto blinked against it, one paw rubbing at his face as he stirred beneath the thin blanket. For a moment, he just lay there — ears spread wide, chest rising and falling in the soft rhythm of rest.
Then, memory caught up with him.
The quarry. Tango Balik. The bounty.
He sat up, fur mussed and eyes still a little heavy, but his mind already clicking back into focus.
Naruto slid off the bed and stretched — arms wide, tail curling behind him as his spine popped faintly. He tugged on his worn cloak, the fabric settling over his shoulders like an old habit. He didn't bother pulling the hood. His ears twitched freely in the morning air, flicking slightly as they caught the breeze slipping in through the cracked window.
He stepped out into the street, paws tapping lightly on the worn stone path as the town began to stir around him. Vendors were setting up their stalls again, voices low and tired but slowly picking up steam. Laundry fluttered on overhead lines, gulls called distantly from the rooftops.
The familiar scent of charred fish and smoke pulled him along the back lane to a now-familiar stand. The old man behind the counter was already turning skewers over an open flame, the scent strong and briny, tinged with pepper and lemon.
Naruto stepped up, tapping the edge of the stand gently with a paw. The vendor looked up, eyes narrowing briefly before he gave a short nod. No words, just motion. A few minutes later, he set down a broad ceramic plate stacked with grilled fish skewers — crisped edges still steaming, juices glistening on the skewered filets.
Naruto took the plate over to a nearby crate, settling down with his cloak gathered loosely around his legs. He dug in without ceremony, pulling meat clean from the skewers with quick, steady bites.
Each bite hit warm — smoky, salty, and just greasy enough to make his paws slick by the third one. He wiped them on the inside of his cloak and kept going.
No crowd today. No thugs. Just fish and purpose.
By the time he finished, the plate held nothing but bare sticks, laid out in a neat pile beside him. He set it back on the stall counter with a quiet "Thanks," then turned, tugged his cloak back into place, and walked off without a backward glance.
The road east didn't look like much at first — just a dusty trail breaking off from the edge of town, half-covered in creeping grass and framed by sagging fence posts that leaned like they were tired of holding themselves up, Naruto almost missed it entirely.
But the wind carried more salt here. The smell of the sea was stronger — and older.
He followed it.
The farther he walked, the quieter the world became. The clatter of wagons and chatter of vendors faded behind him, replaced by the steady crunch of gravel beneath his paws. The buildings thinned out, replaced by brush and low, wind-twisted trees clinging to the edge of dry fields. The sun had risen fully now, casting long shadows behind outcroppings of stone that lined the road like broken teeth.
Naruto pulled his cloak a little tighter around himself as the breeze picked up. It wasn't cold, but it carried grit — fine dust and bits of dried grass that stuck to the seams of his sleeves. Every so often, he passed the remains of old outposts — a rusted lantern post here, a collapsed waymarker there — little signs that this route had once been maintained. Now it was barely a trail.
He kept walking. Twenty minutes. Then thirty. The slope gradually began to climb.
The road narrowed further, forcing him to move between tilted stone ridges where tufts of yellowed grass poked through cracks in the ground. He passed the half-buried remains of a broken cart, its wooden wheel splintered and rotted where it had been swallowed by weeds. Farther ahead, he spotted rusted rail fragments sticking up from the dirt — remnants of mining tracks, barely visible beneath the creeping moss.
After nearly an hour of walking, the land finally rose into cliffs.
They didn't tower over him immediately. It was more like the terrain had been slowly heaved upward, giant slabs of stone layered unevenly on top of each other. Ropes hung loose from old posts jutting from the rock face, the remains of pulley systems swaying gently in the wind.
Naruto slowed his pace now, cloak brushing against stone as he stepped lightly between broken beams and gravel slopes. The scent of the sea returned again — stronger now — mixed with the faintest tang of rusted metal.
He climbed the final ridge and crouched low near the top, paws steady against the ground as he pulled himself into a crouch and peered down.
The quarry stretched out beneath him like an open wound in the cliffs.
It was broad, sunken deep into the rock, with terraces spiraling downward in uneven layers. Old scaffolding clung to the sides like skeletal arms, many of them broken, rotted, or collapsed outright. Rusted carts and shattered crates lay abandoned across the lowest level, their contents long stripped or scattered.
Near the back, a worn path hugged the quarry wall and descended into shadow — too steep to be natural. Carved. Used.
And near that path, tucked under the shadow of a crumbling shed, he saw it: the glint of something metallic. Clean. Sharp-edged.
Not scrap.
And unless the wind had learned to drag footsteps, Naruto could've sworn he heard movement.
Naruto crouched low at the quarry's edge, one paw bracing against the crumbling stone as the wind brushed along his ears. The sun cast sharp shadows across the broken terraces below, making the quarry floor feel farther than it probably was. He took a breath, flexed his legs, and stepped off the ledge.
His ears snapped wide, catching the wind like thick, twitching sails. The sudden drop caught him off guard — his stomach lurching as his body tilted forward faster than he expected. The breeze tugged hard against him, one ear folding awkwardly for a moment, throwing his balance off just enough to send him into a slow, unplanned corkscrew. He gritted his teeth, kicking one leg out to steady himself, adjusting the tilt of his ears until the wobble eased and he leveled out.
The wind carried him lower now, smoother, but not exactly graceful. It was more like a falling sheet of cloth than a clean descent — drifting in wide, awkward arcs between the fractured scaffold beams and rusted pulley arms. He clipped a loose chain as he passed, the rattle echoing briefly through the quarry, but didn't lose control.
By the time the ground rushed up to meet him, he braced hard, tucking into a roll just before his paws hit the stone. He tumbled once, twice — ears flopping wildly — before landing hard on his side near the base of a cracked support pillar. Dust kicked up around him as he groaned and pushed himself upright, brushing gravel from his chest with a grunt.
"Alright… little too much speed that time," he muttered.
He adjusted his cloak, ears twitching back into place, and scanned the base of the quarry again. There — near the far wall, half-covered by collapsed beams and discarded mining gear — a tunnel, cut low and narrow into the rock.
Dark. Old. Still in use.
Naruto crouched low again and moved toward it, slower now, cloak trailing quiet behind him as he disappeared into the dark. He moved through the tunnel in near silence, his small frame hugging the wall, ears low and twitching with every faint noise ahead. The space was wide enough to move comfortably, but not so open that sound wouldn't carry. Every step had to be careful.
Voices echoed ahead — low, tired. Two of them.
He slowed as he came up on a stack of broken crates near one of the support beams. The wood creaked faintly under his paw, but not enough to draw attention. He peered around the side.
Two men, maybe twenty feet off. One was sitting on an overturned barrel, idly fiddling with a knife. The other stood near the far wall, arms crossed, posture restless — not alert, just tired of waiting.
"I'm tellin' you, the client's not coming," the standing one muttered. "We've been down here for days. Ship's loaded, tide's perfect, and we're still just sittin' on our asses in the dark."
The one with the knife didn't look up.
"Try telling that to the boss," he said, flicking the blade against his boot.Snick, snick."Last guy that pushed him got a bayonet through the spine."
The standing one grunted. "Yeah, I heard. Still feels like a waste."
Knife-guy shrugged. "Give it another day or so. He'll snap out of it. He always does."
Naruto dipped low and crept closer.
When he was near enough, he picked up a small rock from the ground and tossed it gently across the tunnel. It bounced once, then again — just enough to catch the standing one's attention.
"What was that?" the man muttered, taking a few slow steps toward the sound.
Naruto didn't wait. He slipped in behind the seated one — quick and silent — then used his ears like a set of grabbing arms, looping them up and around the man's neck and face. The man barely had time to grunt before Naruto yanked hard, pulling him backward off the barrel and into the ground with a quietthud.
The standing one jolted at the sound, eyes going wide as he reached for the pistol at his side as Naruto darted low, hugging the ground, and slipped behind a nearby crate. Before the man could spot him, Naruto flicked one ear out and caught the guy's ankle, yanking hard. The man stumbled forward with a grunt, arms flailing as he fell to his knees and sending his pistol flying to the ground.
Naruto didn't wait.
He stepped into the open, bringing both ears up high over his head. The ends hooked together — tight, quick — like a loop snapping shut.
Then he brought them down in a single, clean arc — smashing the back of the man's head with a dull, heavythunk.
The man crumpled forward without a sound.
Naruto let his ears uncoil, breathing steady as he scanned the tunnel.
Still quiet.
Still clear.
The tunnel opened wide at the end, the stone shifting from rough-chiseled to smooth-cut as it spilled into a vast, hollowed-out cavern. Naruto slowed his steps, staying close to the shadows along the outer wall, ears flattened slightly as the sea breeze rolled in — cool, damp, and heavy with the scent of salt, old oil, and black powder.
The space beyond stretched high and wide, its ceiling vanishing into shadow above a web of old support beams and rigged pulley systems. At the far end, daylight spilled in through a wide sea-facing opening, casting a pale shimmer across the water that lapped gently against the rock.
Mounted lanterns flickered in uneven patches across the walls, their light pooling across stacks of sealed crates, coiled rope, and half-disassembled gear. A low, stone-cut dock extended out into the dark inlet water, enough space for one or two ships, with one currently bobbing gently in the water.
Low in the water, broad through the middle, and built from timber that had clearly seen better days. The hull had patches of fresher wood in places, but no attempt had been made to match the grain or color. Repairs done fast — maybe cheap — but solid enough to hold. It looked like it had been sailing just long enough to collect stories and stubborn enough to survive every one of them.
A single mast jutted up near the center, thick and a little crooked. The black sail was rolled tight, held in place with rough-looking ropes looped through mismatched pulleys. The whole thing gave off the same feeling as an old workhorse — no polish, no ceremony. Just motion and muscle.
There was a small raised deck at the back, where a wheel was set into a short railing. Naruto didn't know much about ship design, but it looked simple.
There weren't any flags. No names carved into the side. No ornament on the front. Just the empty shape of a ship that looked like it didn't care if you liked it — only if you could keep up.
Standing near the edge of the dock, back turned to Naruto, was Tango Balik.
A solid wall of muscle wrapped in a tattered, sleeveless coat. The dark fabric hung uneven, torn near the hem and scorched at the edges. His flak vest was stained with oil, soot, and time, the seams fraying along the shoulders where bulk had overtaken fit.
From this angle, Naruto couldn't see the man's face, but he could see the tension in his posture — the rigid, squared shoulders, the subtle rise and fall of a slow, steady breath. One of his arms hung at his side, twitching faintly, like the fingers were always moving, always reaching for something.
The other rolled a dagger slowly between his fingers, just turning it over like a habit, like something he did without thinking. The blade caught the torchlight as it spun, reflecting in slow flashes off the curve of the steel.
Squatting on a small loading crate just to Tango's right was a massive weapon — a twisted, blocky assembly of barrels and plates, with a thick crank handle and feed chute mounted along the side. Blackened from use and scorched along the muzzle, it looked like someone had taken a minigun and rebuilt it from scrap — heavier, uglier, deadlier.
Its silhouette looked too large for most men to lift, let alone fire. But from the way it sat next to him — within arm's reach, balanced like it had been placed there with care — Naruto had no doubt it belonged to him.
Behind him, one of the remaining crew let out a frustrated sigh and kicked a coil of rope toward the edge of the platform.
"This is pointless," the man muttered. "We've been sitting here for days. The client's dead, the sea's calm, and we've got a ship full of weapons doing nothing."
Tango didn't answer.
But his jaw clenched.
A low, grinding sound rose from the back of his throat — not quite a word, not quite a snarl. More like a warning.
The crewman kept talking. "We should hit something. Anything. Port towns are wide open this time of month. I didn't sign up to rot in a hole."
Tango turned.
Not slowly, like a spring-loaded machine. His coat flared slightly with the motion, revealing the thick lines of his torso, the edge of the weapon beside him, and — for the first time — his face.
Naruto caught a clear look.
The man's jaw was mechanical, locked into place with matte steel rivets and hydraulic tension cables that clicked faintly as he moved. The metal gleamed dully beneath a coating of old grime, the edges worn smooth like it had been used more than maintained. His eye was bloodshot, heavy-lidded, and sunken from too many sleepless nights. A faded marine tattoo stretched across his neck and up beneath his ear, mostly covered now by burns and a mess of short, uneven stubble.
The dagger that had been rolling in his fingers was already gone.
In the space of that single pivot, he'd hurled it — fast and precise — without even looking at his target.
"Shut the hell up!" he roared, voice raw with something deeper than rage — like gravel dragged over rusted steel.
The blade whistled through the torchlight and slammed into the shoulder of the complaining thug with a wetthunk, dropping him flat onto his back with a howl of pain.
A few others scrambled toward him, dragging him up by the arms as he clutched his shoulder and gasped, blood spreading through the torn cloth.
Tango didn't move any closer.
He didn't need to.
"You're lucky I still need you," he said, voice lowered now — steady, but ice-cold. "But if I hear your mouth again, it'll be your damn throat instead."
The cavern stayed silent after that.
No one replied.
Tango turned back around without another word, the faint creak of his coat and the slow click of his jaw the only sound as he resumed his place at the edge of the dock — eyes back on the sea like nothing had happened.
Naruto stayed crouched, the rough stone cool beneath his paws. The distant sound of the tide echoed faintly through the cavern — steady, slow, like a heartbeat he wasn't sure was his.
He breathed in deep. Held it. Let it go slow.
His ears twitched, but his body didn't move.
Out there, Tango stood like a slab of iron, back turned, jaw clenched, tension radiating off him like heat. The crew was restless.
He rolled his shoulders once. Adjusted his stance. The air felt tighter now. Closer.
"Alright," he muttered. "Let's do this."
One more breath. Then he moved.
-End-Notes:
Howdy folks!
Hope you enjoyed Chapter 5! It's a little shorter than the others, but I wanted to leave some space for a proper fight in the next chapter. Let me know what you think — no pressure, of course.
For the timeline, I've kept it intentionally vague to leave myself some wiggle room. I do plan for him to eventually meet and interact with the Straw Hats, though he won't be joining them or tagging along on their journey.
Romance isn't a major focus right now, but it's not off the table—it might come up later.