Kimbaps & Kind Talks

Kimbaps & Kind Talks

Summary: a girl found a boy being cornered by some bullies. homeless, alone, and starving, the boy asked the girl if she could please buy him some food.

the girl said yes.

***

(Their first meeting isn't really a meeting, but more of a moment where their lives briefly touched then went their separate ways.

But everything starts from somewhere.)

***

She meets him again when she is walking home from school, the light of the sunset dying the sky hues of orange and gold.

They both stop, equally surprised when they see each other again.

“Oh, you’re the…” Dayeon trails off, not sure how to finish that sentence. Homeless boy? Runaway that was starving and asked me for food? Kid who’s all alone? None of those sound particularly appealing, and she doesn’t want to be rude.

While she’s lost in thought, the boy rummages through his pockets before finally pulling out what he wanted— the money she had given him the day before. She notices that half of it has been used.

“H—Here,” the boy holds out the crinkled money. “Thanks for before, you really saved me. This is all I have, but I'll pay back the rest soon.”

Dayeon hesitantly takes it. “Oh, you don't have to do this… will you have anything left for yourself?”

“I'll be alright.” He reassures her.

“Well, if you say so.” Dayeon goes to bow before she suddenly hears a stomach growl loudly. She looks up to see the boy turning bright red.

“Oh?”

“…”

Dayeon can't help but let out a soft laugh when she sees the boy's embarrassed face.

“You know, I'm actually feeling a little bit hungry myself. There's a convenience store right around the corner, care to join me?”

“ … yes, please.”

Dayeon begins walking, and after a moment, the boy follows her. Dayeon glances at him. She can already tell he's a bit on guard and on the quiet side, so she tries to loosen him up.

“You know, now that I think about it, I never got your name last night,” says Dayeon. The boy tenses for some reason, so Dayeon tries to put him at ease by introducing herself first. “I’m Dayeon.”

The boy hesitates, jaw working, like he was struggling with himself. Dayeon turns to look at him, and he meets her eyes. She waits, smiling patiently, and slowly, some of the tension dissolves in his shoulders.

“My name is… Isak.”

“Isak,” Dayeon repeats the foreign name slowly, and the boy gives a strange sort of shudder, like he's never heard his own name come out of another's mouth before. She eyes the reaction curiously and gives him a smile. “That's a nice name.”

The boy doesn't look like he knows what to say to that. “Um, thank you,” he says. His face is still stained with blush.

They walk in silence for a few minutes, and Dayeon steals another glance at him. He’s relaxed a bit more, so he isn't hiding his face under his cap like before, and now she can see the giant bruise swelling on his cheek.

“Hey,” she says, snapping his attention back to her. “Are you alright? You have…” Dayeon trails off and gestures helplessly to his face.

He blinks in surprise, almost as if he's startled she noticed the fresh bruise painting his face. “Oh. Um, yeah, I got into a fight earlier today.”

Dayeon gasps. “Was it those guys again?” She cries, dismayed.

Isak flinches. “Well, I did run into them again…”

Call it a habit she’s inherited from living with Ijin, but Dayeon is able to spot a half-truth a mile away. Her eyes flicker down to his hands.

(His knuckles were split and had fresh bruises. He didn’t carry himself as someone who had been injured. He hadn't been defending himself. He'd been fighting.)

A niggling feeling worms its way into her stomach.

“I see,” she says when she realizes she left him hanging. “You should be careful around here. Seoul is pretty safe, but there are a lot of gangs around these parts. Lots of rich kids try to pick fights with each other and get away with it because they have money.”

“Alright,” says Isak. He suddenly flinches like a thought has come to him and turns to her. “Will you be alright?”

Dayeon blinks, surprised. At first, she has no idea what he is talking about, but then she realizes what he means. She’s a teenage girl walking home all by herself in an area where she said there is a lot of criminal activity. And she knows firsthand how much men like to harass teenage girls.

His red-colored eyes stare into her, and it feels like he’s probing her soul for answers.

“I’ll be fine. I’m a fast runner,” Dayeon reassures him. “Lots of experience.” That probably wasn’t the most reassuring thing to say, but it was true. All the times of outrunning her bullies, drunk old men harassing her, and teenage boys who wouldn’t take no for an answer has practically turned her into a professional track star.

Gaining a brother had decreased those problems significantly, but old habits die hard.

Isak nods silently, and Dayeon somehow feels like he's more aware of what those experiences are than most boys are at their age.

They walk into the convenience store together, and Dayeon immediately sets out to ask Isak what he wants. He gives her a noncommittal shrug, so Dayeon is left nervously deciding what to pick out for him and second-guessing each item. Isak is hovering over her shoulder and trailing after her like a lost puppy, but every time Dayeon asks him what he would like he keeps on shrugging and saying variations of “I don't care” which inadvertently makes her more awkward. Finally, she suggests that they'll have better luck picking out items if they split up and choose.

Dayeon fingers the mouth of the cold soda, eyeing Isak across the store. He's studying the packages of kimbaps, looking a bit overwhelmed and flinching every time he meets the employee's gaze.

(Sometimes. Sometimes Ijin would flinch whenever someone called his name. Like he wasn’t used to it. Like he didn’t recognize it. Like he didn’t know it.

Like he was never called it.)

“ISAK!” Dayeon calls across the store, and he jerks so hard he knocks down the rows of food-filled plastic containers on the floor.

Dayeon is shocked. She didn’t know what she was expecting, but she didn't expect that reaction. Spotting the cashier scowling, she hurried over to Isak, who was hurriedly picking up the food.

“Sorry, sorry, sorry,” he mutters. His whole face is red with embarrassment.

“It's okay,” soothes Dayeon, helping him pick up the mess. “It's my fault for calling you so loudly in public. I didn't mean to startle you.”

Dayeon neatly stacks the meals on the shelves while Isak picks them up from the floor. She glances at him when he isn't looking. She doesn't even know why she is wary of him, but it's just something about this boy that is sending some sort of signal to her.

He's different. Not in the way of a foreigner, but of something else. He walks like he's half-expecting to be stabbed than be offered a handshake. His words are mindful, but not in the way of not knowing the language but of carefully wording out information.

And his eyes.

Watchful and wary, darting around like he is looking for something— or hiding from it.

He reminds her of Ijin, and she wants to know why.

And then she does.

It happens in an instant. So unnoticeable that Dayeon would have missed it if she was paying less attention. Isak hands her the final plastic container, and as he does so, the sleeve of his red hoodie slips up.

And she sees it.

There, on the inside of his left wrist, written in small fine-print black ink, is:

032.

Suddenly, the air just leaves her lungs. Her ears can hear nothing but a high-pitched ringing. Dayeon suddenly feels dizzy and faint.

(Her brother had a tattoo on his wrist. It was small and he tried to hide it, but they lived together so it was impossible to, really. Sometimes, when they washed dishes together, he would pull up his sleeves and Dayeon would catch a glimpse.

Inside of his right wrist was the number 001 .)

Dayeon tries to force herself to think it's a coincidence. This boy was likely a runaway, and that's why he wasn't used to his name. He was so jumpy and careful because he had likely lived on the streets, not because he was looking out for something. He had the tattoo because — because — just because!

(Something tells her it isn't.)

“Hey, are you okay?” Somebody asks. Dayeon snaps out of her daze to see the boy — Isak — staring at her with concerned red-colored eyes. His brow is furrowed, and it causes a crease in his face.

“Yes, I'm fine,” Dayeon's heart is pounding, and she doesn't know why. She forces a smile. “Sorry, I just blanked for a second.”

Shame and guilt sweep under her skin. Who is she to throw her half-baked suspicions onto him? She's probably on edge from Yeona’s kidnapping and seeing that blond foreigner that had thrown Ijin off for days. Right now, she’s just jumping to conclusions about who or what this boy is with only a gut feeling and circumstantial evidence.

From now on, Dayeon would just treat him as a— a normal boy.

In recompense, she offers him the ice-cold soda and he takes it confusedly. “We still have to pay?”

“It's for your bruise,” she says, gently tapping the side of her own jaw.

He blinks, startled. “Oh. Thank you.”

“No problem. Did you want to buy this or are you ready to pay?”

“Pay, please.”

Isak trails after her, soda to his cheek as he watches her pay. They make their way onto the porch, and as soon as she dumps all the food on the table, Isak gobbles it up like it's his last meal.

"You should leave some for spending next time. I wasn't expecting you to pay me back,” says Dayeon as Isak chomps down on the kimbaps.

"Of course I should pay you back. You're not supposed to wait until you have extra to pay someone back for their help." Isak scoffs.

"True," Dayeon counters with a smile. "But haven't you ever heard the saying, 'kindness is free'?"

The boy lets out a sharp, barking laugh like she’s said something hilarious. “Not from where I’m from.”

“Well, then clearly you didn’t grow up in the right place,” says Dayeon.

Isak stares at her, a curious, surprised, studying look appearing as he takes her in consideration. After a moment, his mouth twitches into something of a smile. “Maybe,” he agrees softly.

There's a beat of awkward silence as the two teenagers stare at each other until Dayeon clears her throat and gestures to the food. Isak flushes and digs in.

Dayeon can't help but stare at him while he's busy eating.

She didn't really notice the last time they met, but this was her first time seeing the boy in a real light instead of being cast in shadows or the dim glow of the convenience store.

His face is fair and slender, wisps of blond hair escaping his black cap. His lashes were blond, but they were long and thick and in the dying sun, cast shadows under the startling red-colored eyes that Dayeon first noticed.

He was actually… really pretty.

Dayeon knows that pretty isn’t really something that should describe a boy, but she didn’t know how else to describe him. He just… was.

Were all Western boys this pretty?

His eyes flick up questioningly, and Dayeon practically jumps when she meets his gaze.

“So, how old are you?” Dayeon blurts out the first question that comes to mind.

“Me? I'm seventeen…”

Dayeon gasps, a pleasantly surprised smile blooming. “You're my age.”

“R-Really? We're the same exact age?” Isak looks up, shocked, like he’s never spoken to another person the same age before.

“Yup, I’m seventeen years old too!” Dayeon beams. “Let’s speak comfortably now!”

“O-Okay. Do what you want…”

Dayeon looks at the kimbap he’s eating longingly. She’s feeling kind of hungry right now, but it would be rude to eat the food she had bought for Isak when he was likely much more hungry than she was. Isak notices her staring and nudges a kimbap towards her with a slight smile.

“You’re from overseas, right?” Dayeon asks, gratefully taking the kimbap from him.

“Yeah, I’m traveling right now.”

“With your friends?”

“By myself.”

“By yourself?” Dayeon exclaims, far too loud.

Isak flinches. “Y-Yeah.”

Dayeon had to physically bite back the concerned questions rising up from her tongue. Why on earth was a kid her age traveling all alone? Where was his family?

(Who even was he?)

“Oh wow. You’re traveling all alone? How many countries have you been to?” Dayeon asks once she’s sure the concern won’t leak into her voice. At least her question is genuine in its awe and curiosity.

“I dunno, I never counted, but probably over twenty countries…” Isak trails off and shrugs, obviously relieved she isn’t pressing his traveling alone-ness.

“Whoa… you must really like to travel,” comments Dayeon.

“Not really, I just sort of ended up with this job where I usually have to travel to different countries to complete different assignments.” Isak fiddles with the cap of his soda, and Dayeon clocks in on the nervous gesture instantly.

(Not telling the full truth, then. Hiding something.)

“What about you?” Isak asks, and Dayeon snaps out of it.

“Huh?”

“You seem really interested in going abroad. Your eyes lit up,” says Isak, then seems to immediately regret admitting to paying that much attention to her. His face turns bright red, and he stutters, “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean—”

“It’s alright. You’re right anyway,” Dayeon laughs good-naturedly. “What person wouldn’t like to travel to other countries? I’ve stayed in Korea my whole life. I’ve never even left Seoul.”

“Why not?” Isak asks curiously.

Dayeon shrugs. “Money expenses, mostly. Going abroad is pretty expensive, and I don’t have that kind of money.” She thinks of the first time she and Yeona had met up after she’d returned from America and how she had devoured the stories Yeona had from overseas. She had brushed off the question of wanting to study abroad, but secretly, in the darkest corner of her heart, she wanted to go.

But then if she did, her grandpa would be all alone… and Ijin too…

“Not to mention, my family’s here. I would get homesick.” Her lips curl in a slightly wry smile. Maybe she just wasn’t meant for traveling.

“Oh,” says Isak quietly. He looks like he wants to say something else, but ultimately stays silent.

Dayeon studies him for a bit. He looks lost in thought, forlorn, and runs his slender finger around the soda can again and again. Strangely enough, she finds that she doesn’t like that expression on him.

“What about you?”

“Huh?”

“You must speak a lot of different languages if you're traveling all over the place,” says Dayeon. “You’re Korean is very good. How long have you been studying?”

The boy flushes but can’t hide the proud smile on his face. “A few months.”

“A few months?” Dayeon splutters, and the boy laughs.

(He has a nice laugh.)

“Yeah. I also speak English, Mandarin, and Arabic. I know a bit of Spanish, too. And—” he cuts off when he sees the slack-jawed look on her face and laughs again.

“You know that many languages?” Dayeon stutters, disbelief written all over her face. "And you learned Korean in just a couple of months? How is that even possible?”

“To be fair, I knew a bit of Korean before I started to learn it. There were a couple of Korean missionaries in the place I grew up, and I had a… friend, who spoke it when we first met, so I sort of understood the basics. To be honest, the one who knew the most Korean was my broth—”

Isak stops, his smile freezing as his fingers tighten around the soda until indents appear in the metal. He suddenly looks lost, red-colored eyes flickering, and biting down on his lip so hard she’s surprised it’s not bleeding.

Dayeon swallows; a sudden knot in her stomach.

Oh. She’s hit a sore spot, hasn’t she?

“I’m sorry,” she offers, quietly. She recognizes that grief-look on his face.

The boy snaps his eyes up, looking like he is about to snarl, ‘What does sorry even do?’ when he sees her eyes and realizes how genuine she is; how honest. She knew, better than anyone, that sorrys couldn’t take back the time spent in pain from loss. But as she grew older, she realized that people said them because they were offering condolences, showing their sympathy, offering support to ease the burden of grief. It wasn’t to make them magically feel better, it wasn't meant to do anything, it was—

It was just meant to tell them, subtly, that they cared.

He nods, and the grip on his can slowly relax. Silence grows between them, and she feels awkward and guilty for being the cause of it.

“So how long will you be in Korea?” Dayeon asks.

Isak pauses, a strange expression crossing his face. “... Until I'm done with things here,” he says, like something final.

Dayeon can sense the undercurrent of something but decides not to press it. “I see. You must be staying nearby since I ran into you again.”

“No, I just had something to take care of here… but I guess you live around here?” He suddenly straightens, eyes wide as a hand covers his mouth. “Ah, that's a rude question, isn't it?”

Dayeon laughs. “No it's not. My school is nearby—”

The next following moments happen in the span of three seconds.

Dayeon screams as out of nowhere Ijin tackles Isak, sending the food tumbling to the ground and the table flying as they grapple.

In the blink of an eye, Ijin snatches a single chopstick and tries stabbing it into Isak's eye. Isak grabs his wrist, barely blocking it, and Ijin snatches another chopstick with his other hand and slashes at him. Isak twists his neck to dodge, releasing his grip. The air shrivels up in her lungs when Isak kicks Ijin right in his broken ribs. Ijin falters with pain, and Isak is able to push him off and spring to his feet, her brother doing the same.

Dayeon’s feet are frozen to the ground. The whole fight happened so fast, and it was lethal. If Isak hadn’t dodged the slash to the neck, it would’ve hit an artery.

Ijin would’ve killed him.

Over her brother's shoulder, Dayeon meets Isak's eyes wildly. His eyes flicker to her before turning back to Ijin.

And then he begins speaking in a foreign language.

Dayeon feels her heart stop.

The language is guttural, tongue-twisting, and undeniably unlike any language Dayeon has ever heard. But she recognizes it. She recognizes it because she’s heard it before.

(Yeona’s kidnappers spoke it. That blond foreigner man spoke it.

Ijin spoke it.)

Dayeon finally finds her voice.

“Ijin?”

They both stop.

“Ijin, what are you doing here? What's going on?” Dayeon says desperately.

Ijin doesn't turn to look at her. “You should get out of here, now.”

“Huh? What do you mean…” Dayeon's voice drifts off as she notices the dangerous look in his eyes. He's looking past her, right at Isak, like he’s a threat, like he’s dangerous. She recognizes that look… it was the same one he had worn when he rescued her from Yeona’s kidnappers.

Cold and ruthless, just like how he fought.

Dayeon's eyes drop down to his shirt, and to her horror she sees it bloodied, his side slashed. Was he stabbed?

“Ijin, you're bleeding…” she whispers.

“You two… know each other?” A voice breaks through her panic, and she turns to see Isak staring at them.

“Huh? He’s my brother.”

“As in…”

“My older brother.” Dayeon says.

Isak struggles to keep his face from showing anything and fails spectacularly.

“I'm sorry, he's not usually like this. There must be some sort of misunderstanding…” Dayeon falters off when she sees the look on the boy's face. It's harsh and disbelieving. The boy looks nothing like the one she'd been happily chatting with a minute ago, and it makes Dayeon come to a chilling realization.

Right. How well can she know a boy she only met a day ago?

Ijin moves in front of her, protecting her. “Can you give us a moment, Dayeon?” He speaks up.

Dayeon jolts. “Huh?”

Ijin stares at the boy, hard and intense as he glares right back. She can feel a fight rearing up, the tension crackling in the air.

Dayeon wants to say no. She wants to argue. But as she gazes between the two of them, she knew she had no place here.

“… Okay.”

Dayeon walks off the porch, her heart racing and legs numb as she leaves the two of them standing there. Even though they’re busy glaring at each other, she can still somehow feel their eyes burning into her back until she rounds the corner of a building and leaves their sight.

As soon as she does she doubles over, gasping. Her heart is pounding out of her chest and her legs are weak and shaking.

The fighting skills. The mannerisms. The foreign language. The tattoo.

This boy was a part of Ijin’s past.

And she had left him alone with him.

Dayeon pokes her head out from the pillar she is hiding behind. Right now, her brother and the boy aren't currently fighting, but if they did, Dayeon had one hand on her cell phone, ready to call the police. While she doubted they could do anything, at least it would break up the fight and send the boy running.

Ready to duck if they looked her way, Dayeon watches as the tension slowly works its way out of the atmosphere. Suddenly, Ijin bends down… and starts picking up the trash? Dayeon blinks, hardly able to believe her eyes as the boy he had previously tried to murder, the one who had been glaring daggers at her brother like he was his most hated enemy, bent down to help him.

Dayeon gapes, rubs her eyes, and wonders if she’s dreaming.

The two finish cleaning, and the boy begins walking away before he suddenly looks up— and meets her eyes. Dayeon startles, and even he looks surprised. Ijin joins the boy, and they exchange a few words before Ijin makes his way towards her while the boy hangs back.

Dayeon hurries over to Ijin. “Are you okay?” She asks urgently.

Ijin looks down at her, at the worry pouring off her in waves, and softens. “I'm fine,” he says.

“Is… he okay?” Dayeon glances at the boy, who is anxiously hovering a few feet away. He jumps when he meets her eyes.

“ … Yes. You don't need to worry, Dayeon,” says Ijin.

“Good. Then I want to talk to him.” She looks up at Ijin boldly. “Alone.”

Her brother looks like he's about to argue before he stops. He takes in the stubborn set of her shoulders and the way her lips draw into a firm line and knows there's no dissuading her.

Dayeon takes a deep breath, looks over at the boy, and refuses to show her nerves. He was fine. She was fine. Ijin wouldn't allow him near her if he was going to attack her, nor would he be acting all buddy-buddy if they weren't friends.

Dayeon slowly approaches the boy, giving him plenty of time to panic.

“So.” Dayeon says. Just because he and Ijin were on good terms now doesn't mean she's about to go easy on him.

“So.” The boy echoes. He looks mildly afraid of what she's about to say next.

“Would it be wrong of me to assume that you were the one who stabbed my brother?” Dayeon goes right for the throat.

The boy pales. “Um—”

“And would it be a shot in the dark to assume that your business in Korea has suddenly ended and you have to leave?” Dayeon arches her brow.

The boy looks like he quite possibly wants to die on the spot. Dayeon wonders if it's possible for the blood to both rush to your face and leave it at the same time.

“I—I'm sorry,” the boy blurts out almost desperately. His hands wring nervously. “It was a misunderstanding.”

Dayeon says nothing but shows that she's listening. The boy continues rambling. “I thought— I thought your brother had something to do with my brother, and I was angry and impulsive, so I came here without thinking. But it turns out I was wrong and my brother is alive. But, um— I'm sorry for attacking your brother. And dragging you in it. It was— I didn’t mean for it to happen.” The boy’s eyes are wide and sincere as he fumbles through his apology.

Dayeon studies him for a long time. “... I believe you,” she says, and means it. From the look on the boy's face, she can tell he's surprised she does too.

“I just have one question,” she says, and he tenses. “Your name.”

“Huh?”

“The name you gave me. Isak. Was it your real name, or a fake one?”

The boy stares at her.

Dayeon had just blurted out the question and now immediately felt embarrassed under the boy’s gaze. Heat rises to her cheeks.

Well, too late to take it back now.

To be honest, Dayeon wasn't really sure why she asked that. She has lots of questions, and he likely had lots of answers. She doubted he would have told her the full truth, but the point is that she could have asked him anything.

But for some reason, the only thing she can focus on is his name.

(She knew, vaguely, that names were important where they came from. It was the only thing that couldn't be taken away from them.)

The boy stares at her, studying, suspicious, like he is trying to see if she has any ulterior motives. Dayeon keeps her eyes genuine and posture open, letting him see she isn’t hiding anything. Her heart is beating rapidly, and she’s strangely nervous, but she hopes he can see her.

Finally, he relaxes, and a small smile crosses his face. “Yeah, it is.”

“Really? That's your real name?” Happiness bursts from her chest.

“Yeah,” Isak smiles.

(He has a nice smile, too.)

“Right.” Dayeon sighs and leans back on her heels. “Well, that's all I wanted to ask. Thank you for answering my question… Isak.”

“No problem… Dayeon.” Isak turns scarlet when he says her name.

“Good luck in whatever you have to do,” says Dayeon. “And take care.”

“Thank you,” replies Isak. He hesitates, then almost sheepishly, adds “... you too.”

Dayeon beams.

Ijin approaches, and Isak jumps in what looks like fear and before backing up from her. Dayeon raises a hand to wave goodbye, and with a small smile hidden under his cap, Isak does the same.

Now for Ijin.

“So you two knew each other?” Dayeon asks once Isak leaves.

Ijin jumps. “Yeah.”

“Then why were you so harsh earlier?” Dayeon watches him closely. She knew she had said not to ask anything about his past, but she wasn’t really breaking her promise. He had attacked a kid out in the open and then made up with him in the next ten minutes. Surely he was expecting her to ask some questions about that?

But she had literally seen him try to stab someone’s eye out with a chopstick, so she was curious about what kind of excuse he would come up with—

“I thought some weird guy was hitting on you because you are pretty,” Ijin whips out, cool as can be.

Dayeon’s jaw drops. “What?”

She stares at Ijin.

Ijin stares back.

They both just stood there, staring at each other blankly for what feels like forever.

“Let’s just… let’s just go back home,” Dayeon manages faintly.

“Alright. Are you going to tell Grandpa about this?”

“Only if you don’t let me stitch up that wound, I will.”

***

It isn’t until much later when it hits her.

After Dayeon had done an appropriate amount of fussing over Ijin’s wound and had cleaned and bandaged it before he had kindly but firmly kicked her out of his room so he could brood, she was sitting in her room contemplating the day.

Meeting Isak had revealed a lot about Ijin and his past today. She closes her eyes, her thoughts flying around like a whirlwind in her brain: comrades and numbers and fighting; quick-to-kill hands, secret names, and tattoos. Even though there was animosity, it’s clear there’s some sort of innate trust in each other. Bonds are hard to break, after all.

That blond man that came before Isak— he’s another one of Ijin’s old comrades. Yet when they saw each other, they were eyeing each other like predators ready to kill one another instead of friends. Old comrades — friends — but ready to kill each other on a moment's notice.

(Who’s notice?)

Dayeon sighs and opens her eyes. It seems the more conclusions she comes to leave more questions to be answered. It feels like there is a string being drawn in her chest, slowly becoming tighter and tighter the more Ijin’s secrecy piles up. She fears one day it might snap, and whatever emotions she has carefully stored away will come breaking out.

Dayeon absently scrawls 032 in her notebook. She wonders if he’s somehow managed to leave the country yet, or if he’s still in the city. It would be hard to leave Korea without any money—

Her brain screeches to a halt. Wait. He didn't have any money. He was broke. Which means he likely wouldn't be able to eat for who-knows-how-long again.

Dayeon jumps to her feet and begins knocking on Ijin’s door frantically. “Ijin! Ijin, open up!” She whispers.

After a moment, he pokes his head out, dressed in new clothes. “Dayeon? What is it?”

“We need to go to the convenience store. Now.” She says urgently. “Do you have your wallet?”

To his credit, Ijin doesn't question her even though he looks extremely confused. He nods, and soon he and Dayeon are on their way to the convenience store by their apartment.

“Why are we going to the store in the middle of the night?” Ijin asks.

“Your friend,” Dayeon begins, and ignores the way he subtly tenses. “He's broke. I forgot to mention it to you, but that's the reason you found us eating together. He was starving so I offered to pay for his food.”

Whatever Ijin is expecting her to say, it certainly isn't that.

“Oh,” he says. “You gave him food?” For a split-second she can see fondness for his old comrade — no matter what history there was — play on the shadows of his face.

“Yeah. And we’re going to buy him food now. Do you have any idea where he’s staying?”

“A couple but…” Ijin hesitates. “You can’t come.” It might be dangerous, is what’s left unsaid, and she doesn’t argue.

“So I won't be able to see him again?” Dayeon asks. “That's too bad. I thought he was pretty cute.”

Ijin trips on the curb as they enter the convenience store.

“No.”

“Yes.”

“No!”

“Yes!”

Dayeon laughs at the scandalized expression her brother wears as he buries his face in his hands. He looks like he regrets this entire conversation. Dayeon flits around the store, grabbing food and drinks from the shelves like a storm. Ijin watches her and pulls out his wallet when she joins him by the cashier.

The lady begins scanning and bagging the items and Dayeon’s hand lingers on one of the packages. It's one of the meals she had spotted Isak wanting, but didn’t buy because she was paying.

Dayeon stares at the packaged meal, and in a split-second decision, digs into her bag and pulls out a sticky note. Ignores Ijin, who has given up all pretenses of busying himself with paying and is blatantly staring, and writes down a note.

Dayeon caps the pen, forces down her embarrassed hesitation, and smooths the sticky note down on the plastic. She fixes Ijin with a stern look. “No. Peeking.”

“What’s so important about that note that I can’t even see it?” Ijin scowls— no, sulks.

“It’s nothing,” Dayeon says quickly. “Really. Just… an inside joke.”

Ijin raises an eyebrow about that, likely wondering how Dayeon and Isak had gotten around to sharing inside jokes, but thankfully doesn’t press the issue.

The woman who was checking out their items — and Ijin, by default — looks jealous of her boldness.

Dayeon avoids each of their gazes.

***

Isak finally threads the last stitch through his flesh and gasps in pain. It’s been around half an hour since 001 had come and saved his life, and he had finally managed to patch up all the injuries Aiden had left him.

He eyes his blood-soaked hoodie crumpled in a corner and scowls. Aiden, that bastard; that was his favorite hoodie. Blood took forever to get out. That coward had almost managed to bring him down with an ambush— if he had fought him head on, there was no chance the mercenary would’ve been able to land as many hits as he did.

He pants, giving himself a moment to calm his heart and settle his thoughts. He had to get back to The Camp quick, before whatever assholes they sent next decided to fuck him up even more. He is in no condition to fight, and the thought of moving caused him physical pain right now, but he has to get out of here before whatever shady cleanup crew 001 got his hands on in this country came over.

Isak eyes the plastic bag on his right. 001 had said his sister had told him he was broke and had bought him food.

… Maybe he can stay for a quick meal. Now that the immediate danger is gone and his pain has subsided into a dull ache, he’s actually feeling kind of hungry. 001 had already dragged Aiden’s ass out of his hideout, and it would take some time before someone came to clean up the evidence. He has time.

With a groan, Isak reaches over and hooks his fingers into the plastic to drag it forward. The bag is bulging with the amount of food stuffed into it. Isak roots through the packages and recognizes some of them as the food he had been eyeing at the convenience store when he was with 001’s sister.

His fingers brush against something odd. Frowning, Isak pulls out a plastic package of food— with a sticky note attached. He peels off the note.

Don’t forget kindness is free, but if you really want to pay me back, then remember to come back and say hello!

— Dayeon

He can’t help but laugh. He laughs until his ribs hurt; until he’s breathless and his cheeks ache from grinning ear to ear.

Holy shit. That girl is something else.

From the very beginning she’s made an impact on him; he doubts he can ever forget her if he tried. She paid for his food when he was starving— and went even more by leaving every piece of money in her wallet for him because she knew he needed it more than she did.

When they met again, she was still kind, still caring: offering him companionship, sympathy, care— even though they were practically strangers. He thinks of her kindness that is so rare from where he’s from, her knowing eyes, her secret smiles.

It was so weird; in the short time they met, he’d been so aware of her. She had gotten him to let his guard down in such a short period of time; she’d gotten him to talk about his childhood, about his brother—

Even when he had almost fucked up and killed her brother, she gave a chance to explain himself and apologize— and she accepted. She forgave him, and now, was leaving him with a final gift.

Haven’t you ever heard the saying kindness is free?

He rubs his thumb over the ink on the sticky note. He still didn’t believe that, still believed that kindness can still be used as a way to stab someone in the back, but—

He guesses with Dayeon, it might be true.

***

Teenage Mercenary Headcanons

(Most of these are of Dayeon Yu because she's my fave character, but the Numbers are thrown in, too!)

☆☆☆

— Dayeon absolutely knows Ijin's secret, but she isn't confronting him because she wants him to trust her and come forward himself. Dayeon is sweet, not oblivious.

Who do you think sews the clothes whenever he gets slashed? Washed out the blood? Takes out the trash that has all his bloody bandages? She's literally seen him try to stab someone's eye out with a chopstick. Fight against experienced killers when she was kidnapped with Yeona. It only takes a quick google search to find out Dushik Cha is the biggest gangster in Seoul, Korea — and Ijin has him on speed dial. When the Congressman and his childrens' crimes broke the news, you think Dayeon didn't see it — didn't notice that with all the videos posted on the internet, only hers wasn't shown?

Ijin got a job at SW, the most prestigious company in the entire world, as a bodyguard. You have to have an extreme amount of fighting talent and skill to be able to become a bodyguard there, even as a part-timer. Normally, that would take months, years to be accepted. Nobody knew how he was scouted, not even the higher-ups. Which would mean Ijin was personally hired and got the job through connections with the CEO of SW.

The point is that Ijin is the most unsubtle person on the planet, and Dayeon is ready.

— The Numbers have tattoos! After they got initiated, they all got tattoos of their numbers. It serves as a reminder that they belong to The Camp and have no identity beyond that.

— I feel like Dayeon would be really into psychology. Being bullied by Huijin for years, I think that Dayeon would pick up behavioral cues from her as a coping mechanism. She is very observant, so I imagine she psychoanalyzes those around her to determine whether or not they are good people. I also see her use her psychology skills to translate into being a detective for learning about Ijin and the Numbers. I can picture her basically backing the Numbers into a corner and forcing them to talk about their feelings. She has a lot of impromptu therapy sessions.

— Ijin and Dayeon go to a rich kid school but live in a bad neighborhood. Yeona Sin, granddaughter of the SW CEO, goes to their school, and so did the Congressman's children, so it has to be a rich kid school. I headcannon that Grandpa Yu worked hard to send Dayeon to a good school, so that's why she goes there even though they don't have money. Also, they live in a bad neighborhood because how else would Ijin beat up high-school assholes and live within motorcycle-riding distance from Dushik Cha, Seoul's #1 gangster?

— The Numbers speak multiple languages! Being sent on multiple assignments in different continents, I feel like they would pick up different languages in order to blend in.

— Dayeon is good with first aid! It's not through want, but when she was being bullied, she had to patch up her own injuries by herself, so she became well practiced in it. And, when she was younger and first learning how to cook, she kept on getting cuts on her hands from the knife. But she didn't want her grandpa to worry and send her to the hospital for stitches, so she learned to do it herself! 

(Inspired by my mother, who cut herself with a knife and promptly sewed herself up with a needle and thread with no tears or medical experience whatsoever.)

She helps heal her brother's injuries. She's not as good at stitches as Ijin is, but she insists she has to when he comes home with injuries, and it's the thought that counts, right? Also, she took it upon herself to learn CPR for her grandpa when she was really young in case he had a heart attack from his weak heart ;(

— Dayeon steals her brother's jackets and wears them around. At first, it was merely coincidence — her just grabbing the first thing when she's in a rush — but soon it becomes a habit to reach for Ijin's jacket instead of her own. They're comfy and oversized, and she loves it. Her favorite is the grey one with white armbands Ijin often wears. Ijin doesn't mind. Her wearing his jackets actually protects her more even when he is not around. He goes out and takes care of high school jerks often so that they start to recognize the clothing he beat them up in.

High-School Gangster: (sees Dayeon walking home alone innocently) Ooh, cute girl!

Gang: (goes up to harass her before pausing when they see her jacket.) Wait ...

(Recognizing Ijin's jacket, paling, and realizing that he with absolutely fuck them up if they mess with his little sister.)

Gang: (jumping the guy who pointed out Dayeon, beating him up.) You piece of shit! Don't you drag us into your goddamn death wish!

Ijin traumatized all the gangs in the area, and it's beautiful.

— Ijin and Dayeon have dimples! At first, it was only Dayeon because I researched and found dimples represent a sign of beauty and cheerfulness in many cultures, which I thought suited her perfectly. But then I wanted Ijin and Dayeon to have something in common due to resemblance, and the dimples appeared. Also, I wanted the Numbers to have that extra wow factor when they see Ijin's smile and realize he has dimples.

— Grian is a melting pot filled with orphaned children of all ethnicities. I imagined that missionaries from all countries came to Grian to try and "fix it up" before having children with the locals. Maybe the parents were killed, or they abandoned them, but the point is that most of the children there grew up orphaned before they were inducted into military camps.

— Besides Ijin and 032, all of the other Numbers are in their mid-to-late twenties. Think about it — it's been 10 years since the plane crash, and they were all teenagers when they were in the Camp. And none of them look especially older or younger.

— Ijin takes after his parents in looks. He has his mom's hair and his dad's face. You can tell he was their son just by looking at him. That's why Grandpa Yu was so emotional when Ijin came back. It was like seeing his son and daughter-in-law come alive again within his grandson. But Dayeon?

Dayeon looks exactly like her grandma, so much that sometimes it literally hurts Grandpa Yu to look at her. It almost seems like a cruel twist of fate — to leave him with the little girl that looked exactly like his wife to raise when he should've been left with Ijin, so Grandpa can still have some part of his son and daughter-in-law with him (Dayeon internalized these thoughts when she was younger).

— Dayeon knows how to do makeup! Again, this was mostly out of necessity — she had to learn how to cover up the bruises when she was being bullied. The bullies were smart enough to not go for her face, but sometimes when she fought back she'd catch a blow across the cheek — hence, she was forced to learn how to cover it up with makeup and over the years has perfected the art of hiding bruises. Sometimes, when Ijin comes home with bruises, she drags him to her room and helps him cover it up with makeup.

— Ijin and Dayeon actually have a lot of similarities and neither of them realize it. They have the same habits and quirks, and subconsciously hold the same fears of revealing their past traumas. It's honestly a bit ironic and hilarious, seeing as physically Ijin and Dayeon look nothing alike for siblings. For example, Ijin works out and goes on runs when something is weighing on his mind while Dayeon paces the floor until it is practically worn and tries to busy herself with chores.

It always makes Dayeon petulant when one of her friends or the Numbers point it out because she knows firsthand how frustrating her brother can be.

— When Yeona gets drunk she has the habit of buying an excessive amount of things for her friends. Dayeon's cold? Watch her buy a full set of expensive winter gear for her. The guys are feeling hungry? She'll clear out the entire convenience store. She has zero recollection of what she bought the next day and Hyeokjin and Jaehyeong find it hysterical when they see all of the absurd, random things she's bought. The whole group makes fun of how much money she wracked up in a single night. Seokju always has to take away her wallet beforehand whenever they go out.

— After the whole kidnapping arc with Dayeon and Yeona, Seokju took it upon himself to teach the girls some basic self defense. Mostly it's dodging and escaping holds, and they've both gotten pretty good! When they first started out, Ijin would be staring lasers at Seokju on the sidelines whenever he would handle his sister, which he felt he could personally do without. Now, Ijin helps out with the training while Yeongchan, Jaehyeong, and Hyeokjin spectate and cheer. While it irks him, the girls love it and take the opportunity to show off what they've learned.

Hey so like I recently started getting into ikarishipping and I found your stuff and like???? It's so good???? I need more???? I wanted to request more fluffy hcs and stuff for them, but I totally understand if you don't wanna

listen

Ok, I know this isn’t a headcannon but I was inspired to write this little fic about them, so hope you don’t mind. This was sitting in my drafts for so long now until I finally worked up the courage to get it done.

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Dawn places the finishing touches on Piplup’s outfit, clapping appreciatively as her starter proudly strikes poses in his little cheerleader prince uniform.

“Let’s go show everyone your outfit!” Dawn picks up Piplup and beams as he chirps his agreement.

Dawn exits the room, heading out to meet Ash, Barry, and Brock to talk about the match today. It was the early morning of the Pokémon Sinnoh League, with Ash and Paul finally facing off. After a full year of battling and insults the two were about to meet in the semifinals.

Dawn makes her way down the hall, footsteps echoing. Ash against Paul … it would certainly be a battle to be remembered. It had been a long time since Lake Acuity. Since their very first battle. Ash and his team have only grown stronger since then, and so has Paul.

They all had.

“… I have one last thing to tell you,” a voice suddenly cuts across the lobby and turning around, Dawn gasps and ducks before Paul sees her.

Piplup turns around with a questioning “Pip?” and Dawn claps a hand over his beak. Piplup releases a silent squawk of rage before pecking her hand indignantly. Dawn shakes out her hand with a quiet hiss before pressing a finger to her lips and glaring in a ‘be quiet’ motion. Piplup glares right back before he settles down to eavesdrop. Dawn pokes her head over the counter to watch.

“Paul? Win this. Don’t underestimate Ash’s skill — then win the whole thing!”

Paul’s lips curve into a smile. “I will.”

Reggie hung up with a “Later, Paul,” before Paul turns around — only to meet Dawn’s startled blue eyes.

Dawn froze in embarrassment, a pink blush staining her cheeks once she realizes she’s been caught staring. Paul looks taken aback, staring at her with surprised onyx eyes.

Say something, stupid, her brain says as silence starts to creep between the two.

“Umm …” Dawn laughs nervously, and Paul turns on his heel and begins walking away. She nearly facepalmed herself. Really, that’s what she comes up with?

“That was Reggie you were talking to, right? So, is he coming here today?” Dawn hastily tries to cover up her lack of verbal skills by asking him a question, but she must’ve said the wrong thing because Paul begins walking faster.

Dawn felt stupid. Of course Reggie wasn’t coming, Paul was just on a phone call with him, and Veilstone City was too far to make it in an hour. Before she could wallow in her own self-pity, Paul spoke up.

“So, how’s he doing?” Paul practically sneers.

“Uh, you mean how’s Ash?” Dawn asks. She exchanges a questioning look with Piplup before realizing Paul is almost at the door. She runs after him. “Wait! If you ask a question, don’t you want to hear the answer?”

Dawn catches up with him, falling in a step or two behind him. The brisk morning air hits her face and clears her head. “Ash is doing some last minute training with his Pokémon. Want me to get him?”

“Please don’t. No need.”

“Why did you ask about him then?”

“ … I don’t know.”

Oh great, Dawn thinks sarcastically. Dawn realizes she’s fallen behind him and hurries to catch up.

What do we even say to each other? She thinks nervously. The awkwardness is probably one-sided as she doubts Paul cares about that sort of thing, but it’s all Dawn can think about. 

As a coordinator, Dawn prides herself on being able to entertain the audience and appeal to the judges. Her entire career depends on people’s opinions and how they view her. 

But Paul? Paul was unreadable. She had no idea what he was thinking, much less feeling. 

Should she just peel off, say she forgot something? But they were walking in the same direction. Should she ask him about his Pokémon, if he was ready for his battle? But would Paul get defensive and snap at her? Would Paul even notice if she fell back and walked by herself?

“I just don’t like him,” Paul says suddenly. Dawn’s head whips up. Was Paul actually talking about his feelings? Verbally expressing how he felt? In front of her?

Dawn suddenly felt like she’s walking on a live wire. 

“He talks just like my brother. Friends, trust … my brother says those things all the time too.”

“But Paul, Ash isn’t Reggie. Ash is Ash, and that’s that.” Dawn protests.

“PAUL!”

“Hey Dawn! Paul!”

The two look up to see Barry and Ash racing towards them with bright grins on their faces.

“Look, Ash is like any other trainer I’d have to battle in the quarter-finals … and I’m going to have to beat him if I want to win the Sinnoh League.”

Dawn stares at Paul with an open mouth. Wow. She had no idea Paul felt those things — that he is even feeling things at all. She knows Ash, his nervousness for the battle manifesting in his training and his determination. But Paul is feeling things about the battle too. 

Dawn feels his determination, his strength for what is ahead. The way he speaks and how his eyes focus up ahead — past her, past Ash — as if there is more waiting for him to achieve. 

It makes Dawn realize that being the Sinnoh Champion isn’t just Ash’s dream — it was Paul’s too. The way Paul trained his Pokémon and how he let go of Chimchar — it was ruthless and wrong, but suddenly Dawn realizes it was for a purpose. Paul wasn’t power-hungry for no reason. 

Paul is ambitious and determined and focused and level. His strength to push past things and focus solely on his goal is what makes him powerful, not his Pokémon. His ambition drives him to do better and his determination is what forces him to never stop. This battle with Ash is a stepping stone to something greater, and Paul is going to do everything he can to beat him. 

And Dawn could respect that. 

*** 

Ash and Paul’s battle is as heart-pounding as Dawn expects.

She’s cheering for Ash, calling out encouragement as Piplup cheers and Brock yells. She is rooting for him because she’s his friend, and one little conversation with Paul won’t change that. 

But still, between Barry screaming in her ear and the roaring audience, a small part of her thinks she wouldn’t mind it if Paul won.

Pirate Jaya AU

Summary: There are three things Jay Walker knows right now in this point of his life. Number one: He hates pirates. Trapped on Nadakhan’s ship for a year, he has had enough of them for a lifetime. Number two: He is going to escape. Sure, his plans to do so are ducktaped together by adrenaline and hope, but come hell or high water Jay is going home. Number three: Jay has inadvertently caught the attention of another pirate crew with powers, a crazy old man, and the most beautiful and fierce pirate woman in the Endless Sea. He is so hooped right now.

Tags: Mentions of Abuse, Kidnapping, Hints of Trauma, Sexy/Badass Nya, “If-I’m-gonna-die-I’m-gonna-be-cool-doing-it” Jay

Inspired by the-modern-typewriter

***

His ears are ringing and the sunlight is blinding his eye, but he’s still able to make out Monkey Wretch’s screaming, Flintlocke barking out orders, and Dogshank’s heavy footsteps.

Jay sits up, dazed. He’s aware of something wet dripping down from his eyebrow, and his chest is still gasping from the shock of having his breath knocked out. Still, he staggers to his feet and looks around.

Clancee is beside himself, panicking; Monkey Wretch is leaping back and forth from the sails, screeching; Flintlocke is firing shot after shot with his pistols; and Dogshank and Doubloon are busy fighting. The rest of the pirate crew are scrambling to either fight or run from the chaos of the raid.

Well, raid is a more generous term. The word was massacre.

The deck of Misfortune’s Keep was splintered from the blast of cannons and spilled with the blood of pirates. The enemy ship had appeared out of thin air, only giving the crew a mere half hour to put together a proper defense before they were upon them.

Not that it mattered to Jay all that much. He is planning to escape. He does another round on the crew when he realizes: Nadakhan is nowhere to be seen. They were in the middle of a battle, where it is easy to get lost in the chaos. He can escape.

He can escape.

Jay snatches the satchel that holds his stash of food and bandages he’s been meticulously storing away before running. He has to get to the Quarter’s Deck, where the map to navigate the Endless Sea was. Without it, Jay would be lost. He’d die at sea before ever managing to reach land.

Jay leaps over broken bodies, ignoring the pain from his body. Ignores the rest of the crew as they fight for their lives. Monkey Wretch is trying to avoid a man with a metal falcon and Doubloon gets thrown back across the deck by a man with glowing arms.

Jay scrambles up the stairs, snatching the map off the desk and stuffing it in his bag. He glances at Clancee trembling behind Flintlocke and feels an ounce of pity. Clancee was the only one who was nice to Jay when he was on board — giving him extra food and bandages after rounds of Scrap n’ Tap. But still, Clancee would never leave with him. He was loyal to Nadakhan and the crew, and Jay wasn’t.

Jay runs as fast as he can — heart pounding, blood pumping, making his way to the rowboats desperately. He’s close, he’s so close to his freedom. After about a year of being captured by pirates and being their slave; he is over it. Jay yanks a bloodied sword out of a fallen pirate’s chest, nearly making it to the boats when —

He skids to a halt. There, right there between him and his freedom are two women. Dogshank — the most massive and terrifying woman Jay has ever met is throwing punches that would kill a normal man at a petite female.

The first thing Jay notices about this woman is the way she moves. Her steps are swift and steady across the bloodied deck of Misfortune’s Keep, unbothered by the rolling waves or the chaos surrounding them. It is the kind of ease which only came from having spent a significant amount of time at sea, and just as significant an amount of time with a sword in hand.

She cuts through Dogshank viciously, slicing and stabbing and not slowing down for even a second as she leaves her crumpling on the deck. This girl is fire and heat and hate woven in the shape of a human form. He watches as she mercilessly grabs the larger woman’s hair and sends her sword through her heart.

Jay is terrified. Jay is in awe.

The pirate woman whips to face him.

The second thing he notices is that she’s beautiful. Her skin is a rich tan color and her hair is night black, cut in a practical bob. She has a beauty mark under her left eye and a gaze so dark and consuming it feels like he has been swallowed by a black sea.

Jay swallows, takes a step back and tightens his grip on the sword. His heart crashes in his chest and he tells himself that it's the adrenaline that makes him shake, not the thought that this might possibly be the last day of his life.

The woman tilts her head and walks closer, making a quick assessment of him. Her lips are ruby red. But before she can do anything (like kill him) a voice rings through the violence.

“ENOUGH!”

Everyone pauses. There, emerging from the captain's quarters are two people: a blonde teenager with green eyes and an old man with steely eyes and a sharp countenance. The old man holds up a porcelain teapot in the sunlight.

“This is the Teapot of Tyrahn. A cursed artifact infused with the power to contain magical beings. The ancient markings on the side describe it's a powerful relic that can trap mortals. Your captain is now trapped in here, and you are outnumbered. Surrender the battle, or we will sink this ship — with you on it.”

While the old man is going through his speech, Jay takes the opportunity to peer closer at the teapot. It looks like an ordinary teapot, with strange inscriptions written on the side. As the old man raises it higher to the sun, Jay catches a flicker of orange reflecting inside the teapot.

No way. There is no way Nadakhan is in there. The Last Djinn, The Prince of Djinnjago, the Captain of Misfortune’s Keep — was defeated by a tiny teapot? That was all it took? Jay is gonna eat his shirt.

There’s a beat of where Flintlocke, the first mate, considers the proposal before he hesitantly lowers his guns. Every line in his face is etched with hate, but he’s smart enough to know that any more fighting would lead to his and the rest of his crew’s death.

They surrendered.

The old man makes a sharp movement with his head, and the blonde teenager begins yelling out orders to cuff the prisoners and take them to the brig.

Jay starts, panic shooting through him. How could he escape now? Nadakhan’s crew is captured, and technically, he is a part of that crew. He may be a cabin boy, but he still looks like a pirate with all the time spent in the sea and sun. He couldn’t be locked in the brig, he couldn’t.

The thing with pirates is that whenever they lose a battle the winning pirates maroon them on an island — and give them a gun with one bullet to end themselves. Jay didn’t know what fate would lay to Nadakhan’s crew, but he didn’t want to be a part of it.

Before he can take any more time (to panic), Jay feels a sharp point dig into his back. A sword. Jay grits his teeth and slowly turns around, hands raised, to see the pirate girl behind him. He didn’t even hear her coming.

“I’m going, I’m going,” Jay grumbles. The girl’s mouth quirks, ruby lips turning into a captivating half-smile. Her blade drags across his chest before hooking the strap of his satchel. A dead giveaway about what he was planning to do.

“I don’t think so. You’re a bit different from this crew. You’re meeting the captain. I’m sure he has some questions about what a runaway is doing on board.” Jay can detect a slight accent in her words, but before he can ponder about how disturbingly attractive it sounds she spins him around and begins walking him towards the old man by the wheel.

“Captain!” The girl calls, and the old man is pulled out of conversation with a man with black hair and biceps that can crush Jay. His eyes narrow as soon as he notices him, and Jay vaguely thinks that being poked with knives would feel less sharp than the way he was looking at him.

“I found this one by the rowboats. I think he was trying to escape.” The girl shoves him forward and Jay stumbles. Glancing at the old man, Jay notices how his sharp gaze seems more considerate as he strokes his beard.

“I see,” the old man says. “What is your name, boy?”

Jay keeps his head down. “Jay Walker, sir.”

“Jay Walker …” the old man smiles, and Jay feels more unsettled than he’d like. There’s something in that smile, like the old man had just realized something important with his name — like his name was a final piece of a map to some lost treasure.

“I am Wu, captain of the Destiny’s Bounty.” He introduces himself. Jay blinks in surprise when he hears the name of the other pirate’s ship.

The Destiny’s Bounty was the pirate ship of one of Nadakhan’s greatest rivals, Captain Soto. They were bitter enemies, often competing for the most gold and the title of most feared pirate in Ninjago. Lately, there had been a rumor across the seas that Soto had been overthrown and locked in Kryptarium Prison — Jay can take an educated guess and see that the rumor must’ve been true.

“This is my nephew and first mate, Lloyd —” Wu nods to the blonde teenager, “and my quartermaster, Cole.” He gestures to the man with black hair, who crossed his arms. “And the rest of my crew, Kai, Zane, and Nya.” Jay turns to see the two other crew members join them — a man with spiky hair and a man with a metal falcon.

Jay can’t do anything but nod. Why is he introducing his crew to him?

“Why are you on this ship, Jay?” Wu asks. Jay jolts — it's been so long since someone has said his name. Usually he was just called junkyard boy or cabin boy. “What are you doing here?”

“Me?” Jay asks. He wonders if he should lie — he doesn’t want to tell pirates anything about himself — before he decides against it. Perhaps if he told the pirates his sob story and that he wasn’t loyal they would take pity on him and let him go.

“I-I — they kidnapped me,” Jay stammers. “A year ago. I’m from the Sea of Sands, and I was just trying to sell some of my inventions at port when they took me. I’m just trying to get back home.” Jay tries to fight back the blow of aching grief whenever he thinks of his home.

Ma and Pa must be so worried — they probably thought he was dead. They worked so hard to provide for him, and Jay had just gone to port to sell his inventions to merchants. It would’ve scored big money if he managed to. Enough so that they could have meals without worry for months, and so Ma could buy whatever she wanted, and Pa could finally stop working until his hands bled. It was supposed to be for his family.

But then he got taken. Lured in by a promise, stolen because of his trust, desperate from his wish. Jay remembers Nadakhan’s silky voice, a blow from behind, and then waking up in the brig of Misfortune’s Keep miles away from land.

Captain Wu strokes his beard while staring at Jay thoughtfully. “Nadakhan took you … without you using a wish?” He asks.

Jay shifts, uncomfortable with the sudden turn of questioning. “Yes. I used two of my wishes while I was on board to escape, but he would keep twisting it until it was nothing like what I wanted. Eventually, I decided to save my third wish until I really needed it.”

Wu’s gaze sharpens impossibly at what Jay said. “You had a wish left and he still kept you on board? He never tried to get it out of you?”

Jay shakes his head. “He did try to get it out of me by manipulating and goading me.” He swallows at the thought of Nadakhan and his voice, the Scrap n’ Tap, the beatings. “But he never could.”

Wu hums and circles Jay, looking at him like he is a particular trying piece of a puzzle. After a minute he turns to his quartermaster, Cole. “Take off his shirt.”

Jay reels, positive he’s heard him wrong. “Wha —” He doesn’t even get a chance to finish his question before a hand grabs his collar and rips the front of his shirt open. At first, Jay is enraged. That was the only shirt he had, he was wearing that, who the heck did they think they were to rip that off him —

Then he hears the girl gasp behind him, sees the others gaping mouths in front of him, feels the burning eyes on his body before being hit by a wave of self-consciousness.

Oh.

His body.

It had been one week since the last Scrap n’ Tap, and his body showed it. Usually, the games went on for hours until Jay passed out and even then, the crew wouldn’t stop beating him until they got bored. Ugly bruises of all colors had bloomed across his body, a beautiful and horrific painting. Old scars littered his body — some from working in the junkyard back home, but the other, newer ones from his life with pirates. There were slash marks from knives he’d dodged, stab wounds from the ones he didn’t, and bullet shots from the few fights he’d been in.

But the worst was his back. Pale, thin lines scored across him, a lesson embedded deep into his skin and bones.

A flogging.

The first month after being on board, Misfortune’s Keep had docked at a small port off the coast of Ninjago City. Jay had ran. He ran as fast and hard as he could before being dragged back to the ship to face the captain’s fury.

Nadakhan had lashed Jay a total of twenty times, the knots from the whip digging into his skin and making the pain stronger. Even then Jay hadn’t shut up. Every smart remark and weak joke would infuriate Nadakhan more, and make him whip harder.

Jay had tried to escape over five times in the last year, and every time Nadakhan had caught him he added 10 more flogging to the additional number. So yeah, Jay’s back is a mess.

Jay feels his ears burn under the sun as the pirates take in his damaged body. He jumps when he feels a touch on his shoulder and turns to see the girl place a hand on the side of his face and stare at him with wide, beautiful dark eyes.

“Your eye,” she whispers. Her fingers slowly reach up and brush the leather of his eyepatch. “Did he do that to your eye?”

(Gleaming hook, on the floor, slashing downwards, blood, black, painpainpain —

“Believe me, aboard my ship you will break. I will make sure of it. And when that time comes I will be there so you can wish it away.”)

Jay flinches, and the girl gets her answer. She swears suddenly, violently, viciously, and the rest of the pirates look more horrified.

“Dude,” the man with the spiky hair breathes, “how are you even still alive?”

Jay ignores him and turns to the captain, who for the first time looks caught off guard. “So you can see,” Jay bites out, “I have no loyalty to this crew. I just want to go home.”

Wu drags his gaze from his bruised body before settling on his hands. Some of the light returns to his eyes and he furrows his brow. “Your hands … are covered with gloves …”

Jay feels his stomach drop out of his body. “I’m a cabin boy. I need gloves to keep my hands from bleeding from all the work.”

“Nadakhan wouldn’t keep anyone who wasn’t loyal to him on his ship if it wasn’t for a reason. Even if it were a cabin boy. And especially if they still have a wish left. He must have wanted you for something.”

Jay tries not to panic. “I told you! He kidnapped me because he wanted my inventions! I’m an inventor! He thought it could benefit his crew if he had them!”

“Show us your hands and we'll let you go,” Wu commands. Jay tightens his hands into fists and backs away, panic bubbling up.

“I-I …” I can’t, is what Jay wants to say, but that sounds too suspicious. His heart thumps in his ears and he’s suddenly aware that he’s hyperventilating. His hands. He can’t show his hands, because it was bad, it was dangerous, it — it …

Quick as an eel, the captain shoots forward and yanks off the gloves before Jay can stop him.

There were scars on his hands. But they weren’t like the ones that decorate his body — no, the pale pink scars that spread across his fingers and palms look branchlike and oddly different.

It looks like electricity had coursed through his hands.

“I knew it,” the old man says. “You are the Master of Lightning. It is your destiny to join this crew and stop the Skulkin Army.”

(Power outage. Electricity. Chaos. Screams. Uncontrollable. Dangerous.

“Jay, sweetie, you have to be careful. Not all of us can handle electricity like you can. We can get hurt. Lightning is a force of nature. It is not meant to be played. Just be careful, honey. I don’t want to see you get hurt.”)

Jay breathes. He feels knocked off kilter, cornered. The old man is staring at him with shiny eyes and looks a hundred years younger while the rest of the pirates have fallen silent.

“No, no. I don't want to be. And I won't be. I need to go back home. My parents are waiting for me.” Jay backs away, fully intending to flee and run away as fast as he can. It doesn’t matter if it’s a ship, he can run, he can escape, he can —

“Jay,” the old man implores. He avoids looking at him, instead noticing how the rest of the pirate crew is slowly circling him. Cutting off his escape. “I can help you. Everyone on this ship is an Elemental Master. I can train you to control your powers. It is dangerous for you to confine them!”

“I said no! I don’t want to be a part of your stupid destiny and join your stupid crew! I don’t want to be a pirate! I just want to go home!”

Surprisingly, the primary emotion Jay feels isn’t fear — it's anger. Jay has been trapped on the ship for a year, and had dealt with Nadakhan’s sly words and goadings and torture, and out of nowhere this strange pirate crew comes in and tell him to join their crew? Fight against the most powerful army in Ninjago? To basically ask him to die for them?

Sparks explode off Jay's fingers and for the first time he doesn’t quell it. Jay reaches down deep within himself to the writhing, electric power locked away and blasts them with lightning.

Screams and shouts are drowned out by wood ripping apart. The blonde teenager had tackled his captain out of the way and the rest of the pirates were on the floor, stunned. Jay is too, but he quickly forces himself to snap out of it and book it. To where, he doesn’t know — he just needs to get out of here. He’s had enough pirates for a lifetime.

A blast of water hits him in the back, knocking him off balance, before it surges around him. Seawater grips his legs shut, and following the line of water he sees the pirate woman holding out her hand. Controlling the water.

She is the Master of Water.

The woman drags him to her as Jay flails uselessly. Like a fish caught in a net. She swings her boot on his chest, pinning him before pulling out her cutlass against his Adam's apple.

Jay freezes. The tip is pointed almost gently against his throat, but for him to even twitch would be his doom. The girl leans down, her breath hot against Jay’s mouth. All Jay can see is her ruby lips and dark eyes. He resists the urge to swallow.

“I guess,” Nya whispers, “that you should have tried to escape earlier. That little stunt you pulled only made me all the more interested in you. And us pirates love to keep the things that are interesting to us.” She grins, mischievous and dark and so many other things at once. “You’re mine now.”

She straightens up as the others approach and lock his hands in chains, but doesn’t take her eyes off him until she is drawn into conversation with the man with spiky hair. Even still, as Jay is walked off to their ship he can still feel her gaze on him.

He feels as if he’s in a whole other realm of trouble than he was with Nadakhan. Somehow, Nya feels just as dangerous as the djinn himself.

Jay tests the lightning playing at his fingers.

Well. It’s a good thing that Jay is an expert of escaping danger as he is getting into it.

Icebound

icebound definition: surrounded, obstructed, or covered by ice.

In which Zane uses his element against the Overlord to save the city and his friends. Because it wasn’t about numbers, it was about family.

❄️🩵❄️🩵❄️🩵❄️

It is the end, and Zane knows it.

The Overlord is conquering Ninjago City, webs of gold stringing across buildings like Christmas lights and tying up his friends like flies. They struggle, but it is useless under the might of the Overlord.

Zane flips out of the way of a golden band reaching to ensnare him and lands on a roof. All of his friends are tied up, and only Zane is free. He knows what he has to do. He is the only one who can.

“Support me, friends. For one last time.”

He takes a running leap off the ledge, and Jay flips midair so his feet plant squarely on top of his. Then Cole, Lloyd, Kai, Sensei Garmadon, and Wu.

He soars, flying straight at the Overlord, and grabs onto his golden fangs.

Immediately, he feels its power, and its agony. Pain rips into every crevice of his body; his jolts rattle and shake and his wires spark under his skin.

“Let my friends go!” Zane shouts.

“Go where, Doomed Ninja?” The Overlord sneers. Its eyes, red and hateful, glare into him.

Zane writhes under the immense pain and power. His body cannot handle it, he knows, and he feels himself falling apart under it.

“The Golden Weapons are too powerful for you to behold. Your survival chance is low.”

But Zane isn’t trying to hold them. He’s trying to destroy them.

He thinks of his brothers. He thinks of PIXAL. He thinks of his father. He thinks of an old man with long white hair as pure as snow and ice blue eyes that visited him a long time ago, who had come and left as quickly as winter did and had breathed that power into him because he saw him worthy of it.

“This … isn’t about numbers … It's about family!”

The golden webs holding the Ninja fall and they escape. He can hear them screaming, telling him to let go, and he thanks them for that. Wu and Garmadon grab onto them and yank them back, away from the oncoming destruction.

His core — his heart — started reaching critical mass. Frost began creeping upon the Overlord’s fangs. Something blue and blinding in his heart freezes under his power, and Zane embraces it. It's his power. His choice.

“I am a Nindroid. And Ninja never quit. Go Ninja … go!”

He is the Master of Ice. He was built to protect those who cannot protect themselves. He stands for peace, freedom, and courage in the face of all who threaten Ninjago.

Frostbite burns his skin away; jolt and wires freeze under the cold; until he is left completely bare.

The last glimpse they get of Zane is him surrounded by a blizzard of his own making, bright and beautiful like a supernova. Burning blue and white with the terrible brilliance of his own determined choice.

Zane died; not as a machine, not as a human, not as a tool of anyone or anything — but as himself. Zane died to save the ones he loves.

And woke up as something completely different.

❄️🩵❄️🩵❄️🩵❄️

PIXAL climbs her way up the steep cliff side, careful to place her foot in secure crevices in case she slipped and fell from the icy mountain. Heavy snow blinded her vision as the blizzard whipped around her, but she kept her pace steady and sure.

It had been months since she had left Ninjago City and began her search. Months since Zane’s death and memorial. PIXAL knew, logically, that she should be back there, properly mourning him. But she could not.

He had never given up on her, not when she was under the Overlord’s control or when she was struggling with the newness of emotions.

And that meant she could never give up on him.

When she had first met Zane, she became more than a machine meant to function. He was vital to her, and she was a part of him.

She carried half his heart, and against all logical explanations, she knew he was still alive.

She did not tell the Ninja of her suspicions: the immediate aftermath of Zane’s loss had been devastating. She’d watched as the team fractured, splitting at the seams as they all fled their separate ways, too heartsore and dizzy with grief to do much otherwise. She did not tell Cyrus Borg where she was going either, for she knew if he begged her to stay, she would.

If she had told them she had seen a snowy wraith emerge from the destruction of the frozen, apocalyptic atmosphere on the rooftop, she would have been told she had imagined it due to her grief.

And while she was grieving, she was not imagining it. She is a Nindroid, and she did not have an imagination. PIXAL was built to observe, to analyze, to collect data and gather information. She built theories and hypothesized, not assumed.

So she followed the signs. She kept track of all weather anomalies that happened across Ninjago — sudden snowstorms, cold drops in temperatures that swept through small villages and towns. It led her all across the country until it ended here, with her climbing up the frozen, snow-peaked mountain.

Finally, PIXAL arrived at her destination.

The Ice Temple.

Slowly, she makes her way towards it. Her sensors indicate the temperature dropping the closer she gets. For a normal human, they would have already gotten frostbite without the proper equipment and numb with it, but PIXAL was made of metal. The cold did not bother her.

She peers into the glacial architecture, but does not enter. Or more like, she is unable to. It feels as if there is some sort of force of winter that is keeping her at bay.

“Zane?” Hope finds its way into the desperation of her voice. Freezing winds whip her hair out of its ponytail and against the purple circuits on her cheeks, but she barely notices. “Is that you?”

There’s nothing except for the howling wind, then her eyes catch movement. Slowly, almost like a ghost, a figure starts to come closer, making a shape against the blizzard.

If PIXAL had lungs, all the air would have rushed out of them.

A being made of pure winter floated in front of her. Formed of ice and frost and molded by the wind, it stood there and looked at her. Opaque ice carved the face that has been imprinted in her memory drives, the one she had traveled across the entire world to see again.

It was frozen, and beautiful, and Zane.

Inside her neural drive, alarms were blaring into her system, flashing behind her eyes. Warning: Severe weather alert. Temperature reaching sub-zero levels. Retreat into a warmer climate —

PIXAL shut off the notifications.

“Hello,” she says. Zane does not move. She dares a step closer. “Do you recognize me?”

He says nothing, so PIXAL continues on. It feels like their roles were reversed when they first met: she, the one struck speechless by the other’s beauty. Him, stoic to it all.

“I’m PIXAL, the Primary Interactive X-ternal Assistant Lifeform. I’m a … friend. I came searching for you to bring you home. There are things about you that you don’t understand. That you have yet to discover. I am here to help you remember.”

Zane is quiet, but she senses that he is listening. Something glowing in her chest aches.

“It is alright if you don’t remember me,” PIXAL says. She cannot cry, but is she would she could. She is still new to emotions, and many are overwhelming her: joy and grief and something fierce and pure deep in her heart. “I remember you. And we are still compatible.”

Zane tilts his head and drifts closer. The snow slows its fall, the wind stopping altogether. Snowflakes gently coat her hair. Now that he is closer, she can see the differences that make him unlike the old Zane: he doesn’t have the one dimple on the right side of his cheek, or the small beauty mark on his collarbone, or the tiny scar on his index finger from his shuriken.

But he is still Zane, even as an icy spirit.

She held out a hand. “Your brothers miss you very much. Will you come back with me, Zane?”

He is silent, staring at her. Unlike before, it is impossible to know what he is thinking. She gazes up at him, imploring. His eyes have no irises or pupils, so she is simply staring up at pinpricks of pure blue light.

Slowly, his hand reaches out of her.

BANG!

A loud sound echoes across the ice, and out of nowhere chains of Vengestone come flying out and capture him.

Fear slams into her. “Zane!” PIXAL cries.

Ice races out from his body and across the chains as Zane struggles, but no matter what, he can’t break them.

PIXAL whips around to face the assailant.

A man in his thirties, wrapped in a thick parka to prevent the cold and wearing a red mask. He has shoulder-length brown hair and is wearing a dyed red straw hat, and under it she can see he is hiding an eyepatch.

“What are you doing?” PIXAL shouts. Anger — an emotion she rarely feels — burns through her.

The man lowers his gun and pulls out another one before she can even blink.

“Sorry, sweetheart. Just following orders.”

Before she can question what that means, he fires. A net tangles her limbs together and brings her down against the cold snow. Before she can fight against it, electricity courses through her.

And then everything went black.

Different Scents

This idea is sort of small and random, but if I get any more inspiration for other characters, I'll add it here!

Ijin: fresh linen, the steel blade of knives, the rubbery smell of bandages, medical alcohol, sometimes the faint whiff of blood, freshly cut vegetables. He doesn’t wear cologne so he smells very fresh, but his scent is naturally intoxicating and he smells appealing without even trying. When you hug him you just want to stay in his arms and inhale his scent for as long as possible.

Dayeon: flowery shampoo, subtle sugary perfume, sweet lip balm, spices from cooking, the warm heady scent of lit candles. When you catch her scent it's like a shot to the gut, it's so sweet and inviting. People are captivated when they smell her, they want to stay by her side forever.

Grandpa Yu: cotton, apples, butterscotch candies, aftershave, glossy photographs, that scent of old cologne no one anyone wears anymore. He just smells really comforting and familiar, like someone safe.

Dushik Cha: cigarette smoke, expensive cologne, scotch, hair gel, that metallic scent that comes from both his bat and blood, homemade food, the faint whiff of car grease.

Major Kang: sandalwood, freshly baked bread, the fancy soaps Jiye bought for him, spicy cologne, the slightest hint of gingerbread. He smells very homey and when Ijin first hugged him, he was grasping the back of his shirt so hard it became wrinkled. It was the first time he realized that touch didn’t always hurt.

Liam: gunpowder, sweat, cheap cologne, the faint whiff of cigarettes, coffee grounds, that dry scent that tells you he’s carrying money in his pockets. He's got a musky scent, but it's comforting all the same.

Maya: jasmine shampoo, pine trees, leather, coconut lotion, the faint scent of smoke. She doesn't like perfume because it overwhelms her and hurts her nose, so she smells very natural.

002: envelopes, printer ink, the cold metal of his handgun, expensive liquor, the imperceptible scent of takeout. He likes to wear expensive colognes because he never had that growing up, and now that he has the freedom to choose what he wants he gets the best luxury brands he never could have afforded. Also, since he is the current leader of the Numbers he feels like he has an image to keep up.

016: gun oil, machinery, pencil dust, old books, buttery popcorn, the faded aroma of baked sweets, the earthy scent of rain on hot pavement.

032: campfires, cinnamon, late night espresso shots, sharpies, the faint scent of blood, that familiar smell computers seem to have.