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The sea had always reflected the majestic sun in ways that no human eye could.
Somber are the days when Techno would dwell on the sunset, it holds him back and weighs him down all the same. But beautiful are nights where he would sail on his boat and look at the stars. The sky is tranquil, but the ocean has always been his home.
He is a mere fisherman. He is no cruise captain, no navy uniform covers his sunburnt limbs. Yes, he is a fisherman. Yes, his tiny boat is his ship. Therefore, if it sinks, he shall sink with it.
Techno can feel himself falling into the abyss he finds ever-so familiar. If the corals and the seaweed and the sand treat him as kind as the paddle and the net and the fishing rod, he can sink. He can sink. He can sink. He who floats can still sink. He who sails will always sink.
But someone grasps his arm. They pull and they heave as if he were someone worth saving.
He hopes to at least not burden them, so he swims. He flails his limbs, they are numb but they still work which is all he could ask for. If he truly wants to live, he would swim. No. If he doesn't want to sink this stranger with him, he would swim.
The surface cut through the aching in his lungs. Once again, the sun greets him bitterly like it had thought it was finally rid of him, and was wrong like it would always be time and time again. The ocean will be his inevitable home, his inevitable resting place. That headstone wouldn't be made today though. In courtesy of..
Techno blinks his eyes open, saltwater still clinging to the edge of his eyelashes. His saviour is a pirate. He could tell from the way she dresses—there is an unsheathed sword on her side and a huge hat with a figure of skull bones on her head. Her hair is as pink as his own. That is odd, but it also calms him somehow.
“Are you doing okay?” the pirate asks.
Techno tries to respond, but only a pained noise comes out of his both drenched and drying throat, which eventually leads to a coughing fit.
“You're safe. My name is Niki, and you are on my boat. You are saved.” She rubs a hand on his back, patting it rhythmically—so questionably gentle. He would have thought that being rescued by a pirate would require him a limb or two to return the favour.
“What's-” Techno coughs again. He could still feel sloshing in his lungs. “What's the catch?”
“There is no catch.” There is a stray smile on the pirate’s face. There must be a catch. Otherwise, she would've left him there to drown and sink and die. "Unless you want there to be."
“So there is a catch,” Techno says.
Niki only sighs and pulls him to his feet. Only then did he realise that he is on a boat far larger than his.
Where is his boat?
His boat. His precious boat.
He had built it with his father, painted it with his brothers.
He needs to find his boat.
Techno searches the sea, running to the deck. A sly gust of wind would be enough for him to sway and be thrown overboard.
The pirate pulls him back. She notices the tears in his eyes and looks at him with pity. He hates being this pitiful. But he needs his boat back.
“You aren't thinking straight. You shouldn't-”
“The captain goes down with their ship,” Techno cuts in. “You don't understand, Niki. That's my boat. My dead father and my dead brothers helped me build it.”
The pirate squeezes his shoulder. That frown filled with pity again. It makes him feel less of who he is as it makes him feel whole again. “I'm so sorry. There's nothing I could do to help. I once had a small boat too, one like yours. It also sank. But I didn't give up on the sea the way it didn't give up on me. It didn't let me drown. Don't beat yourself up too much over it, alright? On my ship, you could always start over.”
Techno looks around. This place was decorated in red and purple and indigo. And there are flowers planted near the railings. He had never seen a prettier pirate ship. Even children are on board. He could see in the distance, a blond boy and a brunette boy. They are chasing each other, stopping every now and then to point at the birds in the horizon, then resuming their game of tag like what a normal childhood should be.
“Do you like it here? It seems to entice you.”
“What kind of flowers are those?”
“Iris ones.”
Niki approaches a nearby pot, plucking a blossomed flower. She tucks it behind Techno’s ear, and gazes at her work, pleased. “This flower symbolises new beginnings. It called you here. Would you like to be our crewmate?”
Techno gulps. He has little to no clue about what pirates do. But he has lost everything, his family and his boat. Waves still flow in his blood. It is salty in a way that makes it sickly-sweet, something he couldn't get rid off. He needs the sea to survive. He can survive on this ship, he thinks. “Sure,” he responds simply.
“Your hair would look good in a braid,” Niki suggests. “One of my crew members is great at braiding hair. He would gasp if he saw yours.”
Techno touches his strands, they are still soaked from his earlier ‘swim’. They probably don't look very much..braidable right now.
“Tubbo!” that blond teen from earlier yells. “Race you to that man with an iris in hair!”
Two boys come running towards him and Niki.
“Woah,” the brunette stares at him. “Who is he, Niki?”
“This is..uh, what is your name? You haven't told me yet.”
Techno chuckles. “My name's Techno.”
Niki nods, the grin on her face creasing her eyes. “He's our new crewmate.”
New crewmate.
He has always been born to sail alone. This is the first time he'll be on board with other people. Would they be close? Would they dislike him? Would he be indifferent? If he has beliefs that contradict that of the pirates', would they toss him overboard? Would the hand that had saved him be the hand that would carve his name into his headstone? He must be overthinking. The three people that are staring at him right now only hold warmth.
“That’s fuckin’ rad,” the blond boy beams at him. “I reckon I can braid his hair,” he whispers to his friend.
“Ask him then, you idiot,” the other rolls his eyes.
“Hey, mister?” the blond boy asks. “Can I braid your hair?”