As I went to wash my hands, my thoughts kept circling the same grim reality.
I want a full, vibrant life. And this place? Yeah, not exactly the land of opportunity.
And now I have no escape. No map, no boat.
I wiped my hands dry and headed for my room. Halfway there, I stopped dead in my tracks.
Three weeks. Three weeks of this.
Enough.
I spun around and marched straight to the kitchen.
"Joe," I said, putting on my best I've-got-a-plan voice. "Think I could have a little talk with Trigger-Happy Old Man?"
Joe barely glanced up from his newspaper. "Who?"
"Who tried to kill me."
Joe finally raised an eyebrow. "And why, exactly, do you need to talk to him?"
I clinked my wrists together in an exaggerated motion. "Take a wild guess."
He snorted. "Doubt he'll care."
"Didn't shoot me last time," I pointed out.
Joe's gaze drifted back to the paper he was reading, but his focus had gone elsewhere. He was considering it.
"He won't change his mind," Hana called from her room, her tone dripping with you're-an-idiot energy.
"Don't worry. I'll sweet-talk him," I shot back.
Joe hesitated, then sighed. "I'll ask him."
"I'd appreciate it," I said with a grin. "And hey, it'll make life easier for you too."
Hana scoffed. "How does that change anything for us?"
I glanced toward her door. "You have another mouth to feed? If I work, I can make money."
"No way he'd approve of that," Joe cut in.
"Why? Because if I start working, I'll get a lay of the land and maybe send back some info?" I asked, dripping sarcasm.
"Yeah, that's exactly why," Joe replied, deadpan.
"Come on. It's not like I'd... I don't know. Ok, then how about building a boat in a couple of days, blindfolding me, and sailing so far I can barely see the island."
"Wow, that hurts. Are we that unbearable?" Hana quipped.
"It's not you," I admitted. "I just have a fundamental issue with being locked inside like some house cat or dog."
"So what, then?" she asked.
"So what, what?"
"Where would you go? Back to the Grand Line?"
I shrugged. "Could go there."
Joe sighed again, rubbing his coffee like he regretted every life choice that led to this moment. "I'll ask him. But not today. The weather's bad. It'll be dark soon."
"Fine. It can even be next week, then. I just need to talk to him."
I turned, ready to retreat into the usual monotony. But the universe—or whatever deity was up there pulling the strings—had other plans.
BOOM.
Three explosions shattered the night. One was so close the windows rattled.
"What the hell?" I gasped.
Hana and Joe were already on their feet. Joe darted to the nightstand and yanked out a gun.
Hana stepped into the hallway, her own weapon steady in her hands, her face set in a way that made it painfully clear—this was about to get messy.
I turned to them and said, "So, Do you've got some kind of plan? You and that old man were cooking something up."
"Uh-huh," Hana replied, but her expression was like she was staring at Judas after his betrayal.
"What is it?" I asked looking at her.
She remained silent as she quickly checked her ammo, then answered, "It's just weird that you asked about it today."
"What?" I asked surprised as it was unexpected. "I'm just having bad days right now."
"Yeah, I hope so." She shouldered past me, boots thudding toward the door. "I'm heading out."
"Stay out of the way, if they've already landed, go back to your position in the village," Joe said.
"Yeah, yeah, I know."
"I'm serious, it's dangerous. You have to be as careful as possible."
"Yeah Dad, I know, bye." and she left the house.
Just as I was about to ask Joe, several shells came raining down again—two landing uncomfortably close.
I'm no gun expert, but those explosions felt more like rockets than cannonballs.
"Damn, what the hell are they shooting at?"
While I scanned the view outside, trying to gather information, Joe pulled a long box from the closet and took out a saber. He fastened the belt around his waist and slid the blade into its designated slot.
Then he looked at me with a challenging look.
I realized at once that I was a burden to him. He couldn't trust me.
Clearly, he had a task to accomplish in defense, most likely to take up some sort of defense position.
"So, tie me to something? Or whatever you're thinking of." I spread my hands as best I could, feigning indifference.
He threw a glance at me and then answered afterward. "I have to."
"Just get in the room. I'll lock it—just stay put. No matter what I think, your possible connection to the pirates means that if some villagers see you on the street, they might shoot you. So sit tight," he said.
"Yeah, fine."
I followed his words and went back to my room. He closed the door and sort of put something under it–yeah, huge trust.
Now, again I am alone in this room.
Ha, what a situation. What am I even supposed to do?
I can probably help them with what I've got. And most likely my contribution will be huge.
Though I doubt the villagers will see me as an ally. Besides, after this, they'll realize my story was a lie.
Maybe I should just grab a boat and disappear. But no map, no compass—how far would I get? I don't know the first thing about navigating open water. But staying? If Hana and Joe die… would I regret it? What about the others? Yeah. Yeah, I probably would.
Damn, it's so complicated.
I sat with my back against the door and put my head down and thought.
Slumping against the door, I dropped my head into my hands. Every choice felt like a trap.
I've got my head in my hands and I just don't know what to do. If I don't help, I'll probably feel sorry for the deaths. If I run away, there's no guarantee I can swim to any island. If I help, the inhabitants will probably want me to leave the island. And again. Without help in navigation, I don't know where I'll end up.
Or maybe I'm just looking for excuses. I don't know. I've never been in a situation like this before.
I… I just... I don't know the right answer.