Legacy's Wake

As the crew strolled through the bustling streets of Cerulean Tide, Joker couldn't help but cast a curious glance at Nathaniel, who seemed unnaturally composed despite being in the heart of a marine-controlled city. Something about Nathaniel's demeanor stirred his curiosity, and after a brief pause, Joker finally decided to voice his thoughts.

"You seem to know a lot about this place," Joker said, his tone inquisitive. "Done some digging? Or is there something you're not telling us?"

Nathaniel exhaled softly, his gaze fixed ahead. "If you really want to know, I didn't need to do any research. I grew up here." His voice carried a calm, almost nostalgic tone as the faint sounds of the city stirred old memories in his mind.

That revelation stopped Tarot in his tracks. He spun around, eyes wide with disbelief. "Wait, here? You mean you grew up in this marine-infested dump?!" he blurted out, scratching the back of his head in his usual monkey-like manner. "No offense, but this place feels more like a prison than a home."

Nathaniel let out a small chuckle, his calm demeanor unwavering. "None taken," he replied, his voice steady but tinged with something deeper. "It wasn't always easy. This place taught me more about survival than most people learn in a lifetime. But it's also the reason I grew to resent the marines. Living here was what pushed me to leave and start bounty hunting."

Tarot tilted his head in confusion, his curiosity far from satisfied. "So, let me get this straight. You went from a marine brat to a bounty hunter and then... what, decided to throw it all away and join us? That's one wild career path, Nate."

Nathaniel's expression shifted slightly, a faint smirk crossing his lips. "It's not like I planned it this way," he admitted. "But over time, hunting high bounties became more trouble than it was worth. Eventually, I realized that being a pirate wasn't the worst option. At least it's a life of freedom, something I never felt I had here."

Joker crossed his arms, raising a brow. "Freedom? You wanted to be a marine, didn't you? That's about as far from freedom as you can get."

Nathaniel's steps slowed as he gazed at a nearby building, one that seemed to stir a distant memory. "At one point, yeah," he said quietly. "When I was younger, all I wanted was to join the marines. I thought it was the only way to make a difference. But living here long enough… you start to see the cracks. The corruption, the control, the way they treat people. It wasn't the kind of life I wanted. So, I left."

The crew fell silent for a moment, the weight of Nathaniel's words settling over them. The sound of bustling streets filled the air as they continued walking.

~

Thirteen years ago...

Nathaniel was just a young boy, full of energy and excitement, having recently joined the marines.

"Check me out, Laziel!" Nathaniel called out, darting around with a pair of makeshift wooden pistols. He twirled them dramatically, making exaggerated gunfire sounds with his mouth. He spun on his heels, pretending to unleash a flurry of imaginary bullets before striking a triumphant pose. "Did you see that? Pretty awesome, right?" he asked, grinning from ear to ear as he spun the toy guns in his hands, eager for praise.

Laziel, lounging nearby, folded his arms with a smirk. "Awesome? Not even close! That was lame," he teased, spinning a real but unloaded revolver effortlessly on his finger. "You've got no flair, no style! Gunslingers are supposed to be cool—shooting from a distance, moving like the wind. You? You're just flailing around like a rookie." Laziel chuckled, shaking his head in mock disapproval. "If you really want to impress, you should've played that violin of yours and made it a 'death song.' Now that would've been cool."

Nathaniel's shoulders slumped, his arms falling to his sides as the wooden pistols dangled from his hands. "Aw, come on, Laziel! You're always like this. Can't you just tell me I'm cool for once? You never say anything nice." His voice carried a mix of frustration and disappointment, though his pout made it almost endearing.

Laziel grinned, closing his eyes as he rubbed the back of his neck. "Alright, alright, don't get all sulky on me," he said with a chuckle. "But don't forget—we've got gunslinging practice with Jericho later today. That guy's no joke. Training under him will make us the best snipers the marines have ever seen! Just imagine it: you and me, side by side, taking down pirates with perfect shots from miles away. The people would cheer for us, we'd climb the ranks, and who knows? Maybe we'd even become admirals one day."

Nathaniel's eyes lit up at the thought, his earlier disappointment melting away. "You really think we could become admirals, Laziel?" he asked, his voice filled with wonder.

"Of course," Laziel said confidently, spinning his revolver once more before holstering it with a flourish. "But only if you stop playing around and take training seriously. Now, come on. Let's go show Jericho what we're made of."

With that, the two boys raced off, their laughter echoing through the marine training grounds, their dreams of glory and adventure driving them forward.

"Yeah! Let's go! I can't wait for target practice with real guns!" The two boys cheered, laughing as they raced down the corridors, excitement buzzing in the air. But their fun came to a sudden halt when a marine officer stepped in their path, blocking their way.

"You two, rookies—time to clean up. The dining room needs to be spotless for tomorrow evening. No time for games. Get to work!" The officer commanded, his tone stern and unyielding.

The boys exchanged a glance, their smiles fading. "But, sir! We were supposed to meet Mr. Jericho and train in gunslinging! It's been so long since we saw him!" Laziel protested, his voice full of youthful enthusiasm, with Nathaniel chiming in, just as eager.

"No side jobs for you today. Orders are clear—you're cleaners for now. Grab a bucket and a mop and get to work. No excuses!" The officer barked, pointing towards the supplies.

With heads hanging low, the boys let out a collective sigh, defeated. "Yes, sir..." They mumbled in unison, their earlier joy completely drained, their excitement about training with real guns slipping away.

Turning away, they shuffled toward the supply closet, their spirits downcast. "I can't believe we're missing out on gunslinging practice to clean the dining room. Why today of all days?" Nathaniel grumbled, pulling a mop from the shelf with a frustrated yank.

"I know, right? It's like they did it on purpose! I was actually looking forward to training today," Laziel griped, hopping up on his toes to grab the bucket from a high shelf before filling it with water.

With their cleaning supplies in hand, the boys trudged out of the room, shoulders slumped.

"Laziel... do you think we could train with your uncle after our shift? You know, like private lessons? We could sneak out at night and get some training in," Nathaniel suggested, his voice filled with hopeful excitement as he looked to his friend.

Laziel, however, shot him a sharp glare, his irritation evident. "Are you out of your mind? Do you really think we can just sneak out at night and train behind their backs? If the higher-ups catch us, they'll make us scrub the floors with toothbrushes for a month, and I really don't feel like spending another 12 hours wiping dust off shelves, scraping spider webs out of corners, and soaking the floor with a mop!" He slammed the door open to the dining room with a little more force than necessary. "I don't want to miss training again, but we have to follow the rules."

Nathaniel let out a deep sigh, staring down at the mop in his hands as if it were the weight of his dreams. He didn't even feel the usual motivation to clean the dining room to perfection anymore. "I guess you're right... But what if they assign us more cleaning jobs? Like the bathrooms or the storage rooms? I don't want to keep scrubbing and mopping while the real action's happening somewhere else. I want to get out there and start training to become a marine sniper, not this..." He waved his hand around, gesturing at the endless task of cleaning.

Laziel shook his head, his shoulders sagging as he dragged the mop across the floor. "I get it. But we don't have a choice. We're stuck here for now, and cleaning the dining room isn't gonna get us any closer to being snipers. We just have to survive it, get through this nonsense, and hope the next day brings something better. We'll train when we can, but not like this."

Nathaniel looked up at him, his eyes brightening a little at the thought of better days ahead. "I guess we just keep pushing until then? One day we'll finally get to pick up the real guns."

Laziel grinned, though it was tinged with frustration. "Yeah, we just have to hang in there. But for now, let's finish this job before we get stuck with another one."

"Yo, Nate. If we meet up tomorrow, we can swing by my uncle Jericho's place and check out his gun collection. The guy's been through a ton of missions and training, even though he's getting up there in age. You'd be amazed at the variety he's got—pistols, rifles, muskets, snipers. It's basically a dream come true for any gunslinger!"

Nathaniel's eyes lit up with excitement, his energy skyrocketing as if a new surge of motivation hit him.

"Thanks, Laziel! Of course I want to see them! I bet your uncle's collection is legendary! Let's get this place spotless, and tomorrow, we're gun checking all the way!"

To be continued...