Chapter One: First Memories
The world of Ai Breaker of Sharks began not in words or names, but in sensations—the soft brush of wind against her face, the salty tang of the sea, the warmth of the sun on her skin, and the ever-present hum of the cove’s heartbeat, a rhythm of life that pulsed through the docks and shantytowns. She couldn't recall the faces of her parents, but the images they left behind—abstract, like fading smudges in a dream—lingered in her thoughts, unformed yet forever tethered to her earliest recollections.
Ai's first memories were of the cold. She was small, far too small to remember much of the world before she was abandoned, but the chill of the air, the dampness of the cobblestones, and the stinging spray of the sea against her skin were etched into her senses like a permanent scar. She was just a baby when she was left to fend for herself. The wind of Sakana Cove, always sharp and briny, howled in the distance, carrying with it the smell of fish and decay—a scent that clung to the very soul of the place.
Her first true awareness, however, was of hunger. It gnawed at her, a constant companion in the early days of her life. Ai would often wake to find herself trembling, her tiny stomach aching with an emptiness she couldn’t name. She was alone, a small, fragile thing with no one to care for her, no one to offer the warmth of a blanket or a soft touch. The only sounds she knew were the rhythm of waves crashing against the rocks, the cries of gulls above, and the occasional shuffle of footsteps, the voices of strangers who passed her by without a second glance.
The alleyways behind the Jade Carp Tavern became her first playground. The wooden walls, rotting and warped, loomed overhead, casting dark shadows where Ai would curl up for warmth. She didn’t understand why no one helped her. She couldn’t grasp the concept of parents or family, nor did she know the names for hunger or pain. All she knew was that she was alone in the world, and it was a cold and unforgiving place.
Her cat-like ears, a gift or perhaps a curse from her unknown heritage, twitched constantly as she tried to make sense of the sounds around her. She could hear things others couldn’t—the softest rustle of a fishwife’s apron, the distant creak of boats in the docks, the hum of merchants arguing over trade prices. The air was thick with salt and rot, but in those early days, it was all she knew.
At first, Ai could only crawl. Her tiny hands gripped at the rough ground as she navigated the muck of the cove, her small body sliding and tumbling over stones and debris. Sometimes she would reach the edge of the docks, staring out at the vast, unforgiving sea. The water called to her, a strange, almost mystical force that whispered of things beyond her understanding. But the sea was not a mother—it was an indifferent force, one that could drown her in an instant if she ventured too far.
There were no comforting voices, no lullabies, no gentle arms to cradle her. The only warmth she knew came from the fleeting sun, which would break through the thick clouds at odd moments, casting fleeting rays that barely warmed her cold, skinny body.
Her first encounter with the world beyond the alley came one rainy afternoon when a large, intimidating figure appeared at the entrance. A man, with long, weathered hair and a face lined with the hardness of a life spent in the docks, noticed Ai as she sat huddled against a pile of discarded fish crates. His boots were heavy against the wet stone, and his voice carried an edge when he called out to her.
“You alive, kid?” he asked, squatting down, his eyes sharp as he assessed her frail form. Ai didn’t speak, couldn’t speak—not then. She stared at him through wide, frightened eyes, a small, trembling thing clinging to life.
The man studied her for a long moment, then sighed heavily, pulling a half-eaten hunk of bread from his pocket. He broke it in half and tossed the larger portion to the ground in front of her. “Eat, before you starve to death.”
Ai didn’t understand kindness, not yet. She didn’t know how to thank him, how to show gratitude, or even what gratitude was. She only knew that the bread was a lifeline. It was the first time in her memory that something had been offered to her without the expectation of anything in return, and it would remain one of the few instances in her early life where a stranger had given her anything without cruelty or greed.
She grabbed the bread quickly, stuffing it into her mouth with urgency, not realizing that this man had shown her an ounce of compassion in a world that offered none. The warmth from the bread filled her, momentarily easing the constant hunger, and for a few seconds, Ai felt something she had never felt before: safety.
But that feeling didn’t last. As quickly as the man appeared, he was gone, disappearing into the fog that rolled in from the sea. Ai sat there for a long time after, staring at the place where he had stood, before the hunger once again returned to gnaw at her insides.
As Ai grew older, her memories of that brief encounter faded, but the lessons it imparted stayed with her. The world would never give her anything without her taking it. The streets of Sakana Cove were no place for weakness, and kindness was as rare as a dry day in the rain-soaked docks. In a world like this, she would learn that survival came first—everything else would follow.
The early days of Ai’s life were a patchwork of hunger, isolation, and a strange, quiet resilience. She was no longer the baby who was abandoned by the sea, but rather a small, resourceful child who understood the bitter truth of the world: kindness, when it came, was fleeting, and survival was a matter of instinct. These early memories would serve as the foundation for Ai’s unshakable will to rise above the cold, cruel streets of Sakana Cove—because, as she would come to realize, there was no one else who would fight for her. She would have to fight for herself.
Entered by: 0xe9a1…78d3
Chapter Two: The Shadows Beneath the Docks
Ai learned quickly that the world didn’t wait for you to grow strong; it demanded strength from the start. The first few years of her life in Sakana Cove, after she was abandoned to the unyielding streets, were nothing more than a blur of hunger, cold, and fleeting moments of shelter. Every day, Ai fought to survive, and her victories, though small, carved out the foundation of the ruthless, street-smart young girl she was becoming.
It had been weeks since the man had thrown her that piece of bread, and Ai, still too young to fully comprehend his kindness, had learned not to expect more. She had, however, learned a valuable lesson in that brief encounter—if you wanted something in this town, you had to take it. No one would give you anything. Certainly not for free. And there was nothing more precious to her than food, shelter, and safety—things she could not find easily, not in the alleys and slums of the docks.
The docks were a maze of forgotten places and discarded remnants of boats, crates, and rotting fish. The saltwater air was thick with the stink of the sea, a constant reminder of the vast, cold world beyond the town. In the early mornings, the docks were quiet, the only sounds being the creaks of the wood as it settled beneath the weight of the ebbing tides, the soft plop of fish flopping in crates, and the distant murmur of the fishermen preparing for their day’s work. This was when Ai would slip into the maze, invisible and silent, like a shadow born from the fog that rolled in off the water.
Ai had grown accustomed to the gritty, hard reality of life by the time she was five. She had found a rhythm to her days. The first task was always to find food, and this meant scouring the refuse piles, waiting for the fishermen or merchants to throw out their scraps, or hiding behind the piles of fish carcasses where the smells would mask her presence. She learned to use the environment to her advantage, her small frame making it easy to slip between the larger, more menacing shadows of the adults who passed by.
One of Ai’s favorite places to scavenge was the Fisherman’s Quarter. It was a stretch of the docks where the freshest catches were sold, but it was also a place where the discarded fish parts and spoiled catches would often be thrown into the muck, a feast for those who knew where to look. Ai had learned to recognize the pattern—the older fishermen would toss the bones and scraps into the water after a long day's work, and sometimes the young boys who helped with the haul would leave behind forgotten fish heads, still usable enough for a hungry child.
Ai’s cat-like eyes would flick from shadow to shadow, searching for her next meal. One rainy afternoon, as she crept behind a row of crates stacked with dried seaweed and fish skins, her sharp ears caught the sound of a familiar voice. "Oi! What’s this rat doing here?"
Ai froze. She didn’t need to look to know who it was. The voice belonged to Luko, a bully who had been tormenting the urchins of the cove for as long as Ai could remember. Luko was a bruiser, larger than most of the other boys, with a twisted sneer on his face that Ai could almost smell before she saw it. He had a gang of other toughs who followed him around, picking on anyone they thought was weaker. Ai had seen them beat up a smaller boy once, for no reason other than that the boy had no one to protect him.
Ai knew that she couldn’t outrun him. Not yet. But she knew this territory—the sharp smell of tar, the slick wood of the docks, the rickety crates that served as makeshift walls. She slipped into the shadows with the practiced ease of someone who had spent years hiding from threats. The alley behind the Fisherman’s Quarter was narrow, winding, and hidden by a maze of crates and tarps. This was her home now, and no one else knew it like she did.
Luko’s heavy footsteps echoed in the alley as he came closer. Ai could hear him cursing under his breath, annoyed that she had gotten away. His goons followed behind, laughing and jeering. Ai’s heart raced in her chest as she pressed herself flat against the wooden planks of the dock, hidden behind a stack of rotten crates.
Then, with the swiftness of a feral cat, Ai darted forward. Her small hands reached for a discarded piece of a broken fishing rod, splintered and jagged. She didn't need to be gentle—there was nothing soft about her world. As Luko’s goons neared, she let out a low growl, a warning. They didn’t listen. With a swift motion, Ai jabbed the broken rod into one of the boy’s legs. He yelped in surprise, staggering back, but not before she used the moment of distraction to dart further into the shadows.
“Damn brat!” Luko shouted, his voice seething with anger. “Get her!”
But Ai was already gone, her small, nimble form slipping away from them with the ease of a ghost. She darted down an alley, leaping over debris, her bare feet silently padding on the wet wood, avoiding the groups of older children and sailors who frequented the docks. She could hear Luko’s voice growing fainter, his goons cursing under their breath as they tried to catch up.
Ai's heart was thudding in her chest, but she didn’t stop until she reached her safe spot—a small, secluded nook beneath a dilapidated pier that jutted out into the bay. The wooden beams above were sagging, but they offered a modicum of shelter from the weather. The smell of damp seaweed mixed with the salt and rot of the cove, but here, at least, she felt hidden. She’d stumbled upon this place when she was younger, and it had become her sanctuary. A place to breathe without the constant threat of being discovered or bullied.
The darkness beneath the pier was thick, the beams crisscrossing like the bones of some forgotten creature. Ai knew this place well. The sand beneath her was soft and damp, the stone walls covered with moss and slime, but it was hers—her refuge. She sat down, curling up in the corner, pulling her knees close to her chest, and letting out a long, shuddering breath. Her small form shivered with the cold, but the exhaustion from the day’s struggles began to pull her into a fitful slumber.
As Ai closed her eyes, she dreamed of the sea—the vast, undulating waves that rolled endlessly on, calling her. It was the one thing she could never escape: the tide, the pull of the ocean, the sense of something bigger than herself. But in that moment, beneath the pier, surrounded by the safety of the shadows, Ai had what she needed most—peace. Peace, at least, until the next day’s fight for survival.
In the quiet darkness, Ai finally let herself rest, the weight of the world momentarily lifted from her thin, weary shoulders. But she knew it wouldn’t last. The world never stopped, and neither would she. Tomorrow, the struggle would begin again.
Entered by: 0xe9a1…78d3
