Chapter Three: The Price of Survival
Ai was five years old the first time Luko finally caught her.
She had gotten too cocky. Too sure of herself. The docks were a dangerous place, and Ai had always known it, but she had learned how to blend into the shadows, how to move swiftly without leaving a trace. She thought she could outsmart Luko and his gang, like she had done so many times before. She knew the alleyways and the underbelly of Sakana Cove better than anyone, but it didn’t matter when Luko got it into his thick skull that he was going to break her.
It started like any other day, with Ai creeping through the maze of crates and tarps, listening to the soft calls of the seagulls above and the distant hum of the dock workers unloading their catch. The salt air stung her nose, but she had grown used to it, just as she had grown used to the weight of hunger in her belly and the ever-present fear of being caught.
She hadn’t stolen anything for days; the docks had been busy, and most of the good scraps had already been claimed by the older urchins. Ai had learned the hard way that the ones who got there first were the ones who ate. She didn’t mind sharing with the other kids—at least when they didn’t try to steal from her—but there was always a competition. Always someone trying to take what was hers.
She had just spotted a small, half-rotten fish head behind a pile of discarded crates when she heard the unmistakable crunch of boots on wet wood behind her.
"Well, well, well," Luko’s voice growled, full of smug satisfaction. "Look what we got here. The little rat who thinks she can hide from me."
Ai froze, her small body tense, her heart thumping in her chest. Her instincts screamed at her to run, but her legs felt like stone, her mind scrambling for a way out. There was nowhere to go. Not here.
Luko and his gang stepped into the small alley, blocking the exit. There were three of them, and each one looked like they’d grown up brawling in the mud of the cove’s back alleys. Luko, the largest, towered over her, his filthy face twisted into a sneer.
"You think you can steal from me and get away with it?" he spat, his eyes narrowed, his breath hot and foul as it hit her face. "I’ve had enough of your little games."
Ai stood tall, despite the rising fear in her chest. She could see the glint of a blade in his hand, and she knew that if she was going to survive this, she had to stay calm. She kept her voice steady, though it trembled just beneath the surface.
"I don’t steal from you," Ai said, her voice barely more than a whisper. "I’m just taking what’s mine."
Luko laughed, the sound harsh and mocking. "You think you own this place? You think you’re special? You’re nothing, girl." He grabbed her by the arm, twisting it painfully behind her back, and shoved her up against the damp wood of the dock.
Ai yelped in pain, but she didn’t cry out. She knew better than to show weakness. Her eyes darted around, looking for any opening, but Luko’s grip was too strong.
"You think you can hide in the shadows like some ghost?" Luko sneered, his breath reeking of stale alcohol. "You can’t hide from me. Not anymore."
With a swift movement, he pulled a small knife from his belt. The glint of steel flashed in Ai’s eyes as he raised the blade, slashing at her, and she screamed as pain shot through her tail. She twisted in his grip, trying to escape, but the blade caught the tip of her tail, slicing it off with a sharp, agonizing pain.
Ai gasped in shock and pain, the blood pouring from the wound, staining the dock. The world blurred around her, her breath ragged and unsteady, her legs weakening beneath her.
"You’ll remember this, little cat," Luko growled, throwing her aside like she was nothing more than an annoying insect. "Now get out of my sight."
Ai collapsed onto the cold, wet wood, clutching her bleeding tail as Luko and his gang walked away, laughing. The pain was unbearable, but the humiliation was worse.
She lay there for what felt like hours, too stunned to move, the wound throbbing with each passing second. It would take weeks to heal, but the pain would linger far longer. It wasn’t just the injury that haunted her—it was the reminder that in this world, there was no one to protect you. No one cared if you bled, if you died.
She didn’t cry. She didn’t give him the satisfaction.
Over the next few days, Ai hid herself, not just from Luko, but from everyone. She needed to heal, both physically and emotionally. The pain in her tail was unbearable, but it was the scar it left behind—both on her body and in her heart—that would define her from that moment on. She became more silent, more calculating, watching the world from the shadows with a growing hunger for revenge.
But it wasn’t just Luko that haunted her. The docks were full of dangers, some far more sinister than the gang of thugs.
Ai had always been curious. She had a sharp eye, and that sharpness allowed her to see more than most. She often watched the smugglers—those who came to the cove in the dead of night, unloading illicit goods beneath the moon’s cold light. She had learned to read their movements, to understand the way they whispered in the dark, exchanging words and glances that spoke of secrecy and violence. She knew that they were dangerous, that they dealt in things that could get you killed, but Ai wasn’t afraid. Not anymore.
One evening, as she perched on a high crate, hidden in the shadows of the docks, she witnessed something that would stay with her forever.
A group of smugglers was gathered around a fire near the edge of the pier, their voices low and harsh. Ai could hear the clink of coin as they exchanged their wares, the sharp smell of burning wood mixing with the salty air. But then, something went wrong. One of the smugglers, a man with a scarred face, started arguing with another.
"I’m telling you, you don’t want to mess with the Shark King," the scarred man hissed. "He’ll have your head for this. You’ll be dead before you know it."
The other smuggler laughed, a cold, mirthless sound. "Let him try," he sneered. "I’ve been through worse."
Ai watched in stunned silence as the argument escalated. She had seen fights before, but this one was different. The scarred man pulled a knife, his face twisted with rage, and in one fluid motion, he plunged it into the other smuggler’s gut. The victim staggered back, clutching at his wound, his mouth open in a silent scream. Blood spilled onto the dock, staining the wood a deep, dark red.
Ai didn’t move. She didn’t make a sound. She watched as the life drained from the man’s eyes, his body crumpling to the ground, his final breath a gurgle of blood. The smugglers didn’t even flinch as their companion died. They simply turned away, as if the man had never existed at all.
Ai didn’t run. She didn’t call for help. She stayed hidden, watching the life of the man fade away, her eyes wide with a mix of horror and something else. Something darker.
It wasn’t that Ai didn’t care. She understood something in that moment, something she would carry with her for the rest of her life. The world was cold, and it took what it wanted. People died every day in Sakana Cove, and no one cared enough to stop it. If you wanted to survive, you had to learn not to care. You had to learn to keep your mouth shut, to hide in the shadows, and to never, ever trust anyone.
That night, Ai made a vow to herself. She would take what was hers. She would learn the ways of the smugglers, the ways of the shadows, and she would become strong enough to never be prey again.
And one day, when she was ready, she would make Luko pay for what he had done to her.
But that was a long way off. For now, Ai had to survive. And that meant learning, watching, and waiting. The world would break her if she let it. But she wasn’t going to let that happen.
Not anymore.
Entered by: 0xe9a1…78d3
Chapter Four: The Cost of Revenge and the Call of the Sea
Ai was seven years old when she made her first real deal.
The discovery came at dawn, as she scavenged the beach like so many mornings before. Her body had grown leaner and quicker, accustomed to the rough and unforgiving life of the streets. Her tail was healed, though it left a faint scar, a reminder of the price she had paid. It had taken her years to recover, not just from the injury, but from the shame that clung to her like a second skin. Yet, every day she grew stronger, sharper, more attuned to the rhythm of the cove.
That morning, as the sun crept above the horizon, casting a golden glow over the waves, Ai spotted something unusual washed up on the shore. It was a float, bobbing gently against the tide, and as she drew closer, she saw that it was attached to a crate—a crate that was half-submerged in the sand, its contents barely visible through the slats.
Her heart quickened as she approached. There was something about this crate that whispered of opportunity. She had learned over the years that everything on the beach had a price, and this could be no different.
Ai tugged at the crate with all her strength, her fingers raw as they scraped against the wood. She gritted her teeth as she managed to break it open. Inside, she found bottles—dozens of bottles of sake, their glass shimmering with the faint light of dawn. They were high quality, the kind of drink that sailors and tavern owners would pay handsomely for. She had seen them before, tucked away in the back rooms of taverns, where the smell of alcohol mingled with the damp scent of the sea.
This could be her ticket.
Ai hauled the crate back to the cove, her small body straining under the weight of the prize. By midday, she had struck a deal with the tavern owner, a greasy man named Ulrik who ran the local drinking hole. He was rough around the edges, with a sour smell of fish and ale always clinging to him, but Ai had learned how to speak his language. Money, power, and favors—these were the tools she could use to survive in the city. And the crate of sake was worth more than any simple trade.
In return for the crate, Ulrik gave Ai a small pouch of silver. It wasn’t much, but it was enough to start building her reputation. Word spread quickly through the underbelly of the cove: Ai, the girl who knew how to get things, had struck a deal with Ulrik.
It was the beginning of something bigger. But Ai was more focused on something else.
In the months that followed, Ai learned to read and write.
She had always been observant, always watching, but one fateful day, she found something that would change her life forever. On the edge of the pier, tucked beneath a pile of discarded fishing nets, she found a captain’s log—weathered and worn, but intact. She had no idea whose it was, but the moment she opened the cover, she could see the neatly penned words, the careful strokes of ink on the page.
At first, it was the simple words that caught her attention—the names of ports, the details of sailing routes, the dates and the times. But as she turned the pages, she began to understand more. The way the words connected, the way sentences were structured, it all started to make sense. Ai had seen enough sailors and merchants to know that reading and writing were power, and if she could master it, she could open doors that had always been closed to her.
For weeks, she spent her nights in secret, poring over the captain’s log by the flickering light of a small oil lamp. She traced each word with her finger, whispering the letters under her breath until they began to take shape. The numbers and symbols started to make sense, and before long, Ai had taught herself the basics of reading and writing. She kept the captain’s log close, reading it over and over until she had memorized entire sections.
She was no longer just a street urchin. She was a survivor, someone who could navigate the world in ways others couldn’t.
By the time she was eleven, Ai was no longer just stealing from the docks or making small deals. She had a reputation. She was resourceful, clever, and more dangerous than anyone gave her credit for. The cove had a way of swallowing people whole, but Ai had learned how to use it to her advantage.
But revenge was still on her mind.
The opportunity came one night, under the cover of darkness, when Ai was walking along the familiar, crumbling cobbles of the dockside, the salty air heavy with the promise of a storm. Luko’s gang had been more brazen lately, more reckless. Ai had been keeping a watchful eye on him, waiting for the right moment, knowing that eventually, he would slip up. She had seen the way he strutted around the cove, the way he thought himself untouchable. But Ai had learned something from the shadows: everyone made mistakes.
It was on one of these nights, when Ai was passing through the alley by Ulrik’s tavern, that she saw him. Luko. He was alone, staggering slightly from too much drink, his gait unsteady as he approached the edge of the dock. He didn’t see her at first. Ai stayed hidden in the shadows, waiting.
The blood in her veins burned with anticipation.
Luko was muttering to himself, cursing under his breath. He leaned against the post at the end of the dock, his back to Ai. She could hear his labored breathing, the sound of his boots scraping against the wood.
Ai stepped forward silently, her small hands gripping the knife she had stolen days earlier. She had learned the art of silence, how to move without making a sound. She was the ghost in the shadows, and now, she was the hunter.
She was so close now she could hear his breath.
With one swift motion, she was behind him. The knife in her hand flashed in the moonlight as she grabbed his hand and forced it down onto the wooden planks. Luko’s eyes widened in shock, but before he could scream, she pressed the blade against his knuckles. He froze, terror flooding his face.
“Remember me?” Ai whispered, her voice low and cold.
Luko stammered, his face pale. “Please, Ai... I’m sorry. I never—”
But Ai wasn’t listening. She pressed harder, the knife cutting through his skin as if it were butter, and with a swift twist, she severed his fingers, one by one. His screams filled the air, but Ai didn’t flinch. She didn’t care. He was nothing now—just a memory of the past, a chapter she was closing.
When it was done, Ai left him there, his fingers lying on the dock like worthless pieces of meat, the blood staining the wood beneath him. She walked away, the adrenaline coursing through her veins, the weight of her revenge heavy in her chest.
She had finally taken back what was hers. The scar on her tail had been avenged, and so much more.
But there was something else.
Ai felt the pull of the sea.
In the months that followed, Ai began to see the ships coming in and out of the harbor. She watched the sailors and deckhands, their lives full of danger and adventure, and she felt a yearning deep inside her. She had grown tired of the cove. The streets, the docks, the taverns—everything felt small now, as if the world beyond the water was calling to her.
She made a decision.
At twelve years old, Ai found herself standing at the edge of the pier, staring out at the open sea. The waves crashed against the wooden posts, and for the first time in her life, Ai felt something she had never felt before: freedom.
She walked up to the captain of a nearby ship, a grizzled old man with a weathered face and hands that had seen too many years of hard work. His name was Captain Hideo, and his ship, The Koarashi, rocked steadily at the dock, its name scrawled in weathered paint along the hull—a small storm ready to stir the seas. When Ai offered her services, he looked at her with disdain. But something in her eyes—something that reminded him of the sea itself—made him pause.
"You're just a kid," he grunted, narrowing his eyes. "The sea’s no place for someone like you."
But Ai wasn’t about to be turned away. She pressed him with a mix of desperation and determination, until, finally, he relented. “Fine,” he said, “but you’ll regret this. The work on The Koarashi is hard, the hours long, and the sea doesn’t care about your age. You want in? Prove it.”
Ai nodded, her heart pounding with excitement.
And so, she became a deckhand aboard The Koarashi. The conditions were grueling, the work relentless. The crew was rough, the tasks brutal, and the sea, always unpredictable. But Ai felt alive in a way she never had before. The sting of saltwater on her skin, the creak of the ship beneath her feet, the distant horizon that promised something greater—all of it filled her with purpose.
She had escaped the streets of Sakana Cove. The world beyond the water had called to her, and now she was finally answering.
Entered by: 0xe9a1…78d3
