When Worlds Collide

     “How did everything go so wrong?” he mused, digging his hands through his white mane before gazing at the distant, flickering oil lamps of his old pirate crew’s ship. It moored only a short distance from the shore—his fault, he reminded himself—before it found land again in the morning.

     Only ten days before, he was working as an able-bodied crewman aboard The Mariner’s Voyage, aiding with whatever was needed. Usually, as the newest recruit, this devolved into him being the deck swabby, but Dylan did not mind the title. It meant getting a share of the loot to bring back to his family at home; that was all that mattered.

     For Sarah and Celia, his two little sisters. For his bentback father who toiled at the docks after his sailing master mother was lost at sea. It had been a few months since then, and the local pirate crew eagerly took on Dylan as a new crew member. They claimed they valued his understanding—amateurish though it was—of the stars. But it sooner seemed that they valued him more as another pair of hands than as a reader of the night sky. Still, the captain would praise his abilities, point them out to the crew as if they could someday be useful… it felt nice, being wanted. Being recognized.

      Things were looking up. He remembered such thoughts fondly, as if those days were a dream.

     Then a sea squall ruined his life.

     He was tasked with furling the sails during a bad storm, a job that no one else wanted. They quickly outvoted him when he tried to make them see reason—a product of their ship’s lopsided democracy, he quickly learned. So, on the deck he battled alone, battered by windswept rain, as water lapped across the deck’s edges. Straining, he managed to secure the back sails, lest the ship start sailing sideways.

     The last thing he remembered was an unsecured barrel knocking him into the rough seas. A few of the pirates called out to him—the captain even tried to throw a line into the water—but they soon retreated, branding him as a dead man lost to sea.

     After a few minutes of struggling, Dylan accepted his fate. He was tired and the salty seas were beckoning him home…

     The world went dark.

     But the sea seemed warmer than he last remembered, more comforting. His eyes opened slowly. A black-clad creature stood over him, one that vaguely looked like a Kacheek. Two piercing, sapphire eyes were all he could make out from their otherwise inky apparel.

     Dylan bolted up, then immediately wheezed in pain. He instinctively covered an arm over his chest and stomach only to realize that there were bandages there. A soft bed sprung under the weight of his other hand and his whistle, used by marooned sailors when calling for help, sat atop a neatly folded pile of his clothes.

     Alive? he thought airily. But how…?

     The shadow Neopian whipped out a pointed dagger and gripped it with the point facing him.

     “Is this… the afterlife…?” Dylan managed, before lowering himself back into the bed with a grunt. A few candles lit the dim room, alighting the flat floor mats.

     “No, Miss,” the shadow replied in a hushed, feminine voice.

     Dylan bit his lip, keenly aware that the bandages on them now weren’t tight enough to hide his frame. “Sir, actually.”

     She tilted her head before shrugging. “Okay. Then no, Sir. This is not the afterlife.”

     The Krawk exhaled with relief. It wasn’t often that Neopians caught on so quickly. As it was, it took until the captain forced the crew’s hand that they stopped saying ‘lass.’

     “So…” taking another look around, he questioned whether this was the afterlife after all. “Where am I, then?”

     Silence.

     “Did I… wash up on land?”

     “Yes.”

     Dylan struggled to recall the last few hours, but could not remember more than the wisps of his terrified struggle. “Did you… save me?”

     “Yes.”

     “But…” The word caught in his throat. “Why?”

      This seemed to catch the shadow off guard. Her brow rose in confusion—or seemed to in the low light. “Because you were in need of help?”

     “Oh.” Dylan sunk further into the bed. “Thanks for that, Ms. …” he paused dramatically, hoping they might catch the hint.

     She squirmed a bit before finally relenting. “Sora.”

     “Sora.” He smiled thinking about it. “That’s a really pretty name.”

     She muttered a thank you before hiding her dagger away.

     “Mine’s Dylan.”

     There were a few seconds of quiet. “You’re from the outside, then, Dylan?”

     “Outside?” The question struck him as odd. “Like, outdoors?”

     “Off the island.”

     He blinked a few times, slowly taking in the fact that he was not only alive but—apparently—on an island. “Yeah, from a town called Bony Fish.”

     “Bony fish…” she seemed enamored by the sound of it. “Bony… fish…”

     “You’ve never been?”

     Sora scoffed as if the question was a silly one. “My village has been on this island for over 25 years.”

     The world seemed to stop. “… What?”

     “Their airship crashed before I was even born… and after a while, I think they wanted to stay here. It’s isolated and safe. No one knows we’re here.”

     It felt like a stone hit Dylan’s stomach, never mind the fact that she said ‘air ship’ so casually. “Stuck on the island? But—but, I have a family back home. And two little sisters who need me!”

     “If you get too upset, you’ll open up your injuries.” She shot him a sympathetic look. “You need your rest, Dylan.”

     Not bothering to reply, the Krawk blew a puff of air against his sagging white crest and formulated a plan. There was no way he was going to spend the rest of his life on this island.

     ~~~

     It took nine days for the ninjas to allow him even a moment of solitude. They were kind enough, offering some basic foods and shelter. With his working physique, they found uses for him assisting in easy repair jobs within the hidden village. Five days in, Sora finally revealed her identity: she was a Kacheek after all. Raven hair framed her dark blue face. One look at her made him blush furiously—when she asked, he blamed it on going overboard.

     After revealing herself, she would often badger him with questions about the “Outside.” At first it was annoying, but after a while, he found it amusing—endearing even. Most of the other villagers kept their distance beyond basic pleasantries, not that he blamed them, being an outsider. A few gradually warmed up to him, especially as he did more odd jobs around the village.

     “Looks like you’re starting to settle in.” Sora said it with a sincere smile. “I’m so glad! It’s been a long time since our village has grown.” She paused, and sheepishly added, “other than babies, of course; not that we’ve had one of those here in a while….”

      “Yeah…” he said, trying to reciprocate the gesture, “I’m really fortunate to be here.” But even as he felt more comfortable and the pain from his injuries waned, he felt homesick. And that wound continued to grow, to fester.

     And fester it did.

     After that night, there was no turning back, not after he blew his emergency whistle. It wasn’t like he thought it would do anything; the Voyage should have been days away. When he pursed his lips and blew into the tin contraption, he thought of it as his last chance. The crew left him behind; why would they have stuck around? The downed flying ship that brought the ninjafolk to this island could no longer be salvaged and no raft or small vessel could bring him dozens of miles alone.

     And if silence replied, it would confirm his goodbye to the mainland, to his family. But he had to know if there was a chance.

      Minutes after doing the deed, Dylan had been surrounded by a legion of ninjas, all of whom were not pleased. Sora looked especially hurt and disappointed.

      “What was that?” growled one ninja, a Draik with a mean scowl. Before Dylan knew what happened, a kunai was pressed firmly to his neck. A few other ninjas held shurikens.

     “Just… urk.” It proved difficult for the Krawk to speak with the sharp point touching his skin. “Just saying goodbye to my family on the mainland…” he managed.

     The Draik scowled. “A likely story, Outsider.”

     Dylan could feel the blade pushing further and let out a whine. “It’s true…”

     “And what if—”

     “Ship!” cried Sora, who saw it crest on the horizon. “We need to prepare—now!”

     The Draik pushed Dylan’s face into the sand. “Dare not enter the village again, boy,” he warned, kicking a plume in his direction as he turned to run. “It will be the last mistake you ever make...”

     After all the others disappeared, it was Sora who lingered behind. Her hands were balled into fists as she fought back tears. “We trusted you—I trusted you—risked my life to save you! Why would you put us all in danger?”

     Grains of sand covered his tongue. He spat them out and combed through his mane uselessly with one hand. None of the excuses he could come up with seemed even remotely true, so he opted for the truth. “I didn’t think… didn’t know they’d come back for me. Maybe I selfishly hoped they would so that I could go home,” the Krawk sighed, pulling off the bandage on his cheek, “but don’t worry. I’ll tell them there’s nothing here. With any luck, they’ll take me away and…” his voice grew sad, “you’ll never have to see me again…”

     Up to this point, Sora’s face had been uncovered. She slipped back her hood, hiding all but her sapphire eyes. Before breaking into a sprint, she whispered, “maybe that would be for the best.”

     ~~

     By some stroke of luck—if you wanted to call it that—the Voyage’s captain, Salty Simon, with his incredible Aisha ears, picked up the hint of a sound tumbling across the placid waters and followed it to the source. Curious, he sailed his crew to a small spit of land, an undiscovered island perhaps 5 miles wide with what seemed to be a healthy undergrowth and a towering grove of coconuts. It was nearly evening; sun beams still clung to the falling sky. But what stood out to him… was the waving form of a Neopian. He strained for more detail, but it was the lookout that first cried out in alarm.

     “It’s the lad! The one who went overboard!”

     An uproar rose from the crew.

     “Dylan?”

     “Yarr, that be the one!”

     “I thought him dead!”

     As the ship crept closer towards the shore, the features of the Krawk grew more apparent. Lean, but muscular, with a long and lush white mane that left even the Kyrii crew members jealous—it had to be him. He was alive. But even more so… he looked fed, clean even. Surprisingly well-off for someone who had tumbled into the tumultuous depths over a week ago.

     As the crew lowered the gang plank and Salty Simon took his first steps towards land, the lad ran up to greet him.

     Ran, thought the captain. So, he can do that much, eh?

     Dylan saluted. “Captain! Thank you for coming to help me.” His body language looked nervous, tense even. “I guess I should get back to wor—”

     “Not so fast.” The captain rose his hand and Dylan immediately clammed up. “Who do we have to thank for your recovery?”

     The Krawk’s gasp was the only answer he needed.

     “No one!” Dylan’s voice cracked as his chest rose and fell like a punctured balloon. “I managed to heal myself all on my own—learned it from my mom, you know! Healing, that is. Not just navigation, but uh, I can do that, too, as you—”

     “Boy.”

     Dylan stiffened up like a board. It was well-known that when the captain was cross, he would make it clear. A single word of warning could carry an anchor’s weight in pressure and this—this word. It felt like the sea was crashing on his sternum.

     No words came out of Dylan’s dry lips, only a quiet wheeze.

     “Boy.” The captain said it again with a cold, piercing glare. “Do you take me a fool?”

     “No,” Dylan breathed, and realizing that he had been too informal added, “no, Sir.”

     The Aisha drew his blade in an instant and held it inches from Dylan’s snout. Surprised, the Krawk stumbled back into the soft sand and landed on his tail. “Then learn to lie better.” Salty Simon sheathed his blade. “We’re done here.” He then turned to the crew. “This is what happens when you turn traitor! When you find loot ripe for the taking and you hoard the secret to plunder it for your miserable self.” There was venom in his final words that stung worse than any blade could.

     Scrambling to his feet, the Krawk took a step forward. What stopped him was the wicked gleam in the captain’s smile.

     “Tomorrow, lad, you’ll learn what happens to those who try to steal from pirates.”

     ~~

     If only I didn’t blow that whistle… Dylan thought, watching the sand slip through his toes as he breathed in the night air. His final night’s air, he reminded himself. There was no way he could stand up against fully-trained pirates. Sure, he had some basic weapons training, but nothing that could compare to over a dozen other crew members. Sighing, he wrapped his arms around his knees and squeezed. There was an odd sort of calmness, one he could scarcely explain. He should be terrified, be looking for every option to escape, to survive, but…

      I escaped death once already. It almost seemed funny now, sick as it was. He chuckled to himself as a sort of numb resignation washed over him. I guess my luck’s run—

     “Giving up?”

     He leapt up, letting out a high-pitched squeak in the process. There was a girlish giggle coming from the shadow that he immediately pegged as Sora.

     The voice came from behind. From a place where, seconds ago, he could have sworn there was nothing there. In the darkness, there was little more than a silhouette. She had chosen the shade of a tree to hide herself, but instead of weapons in each paw, both arms were crossed and, as far as he could tell, unarmed.

     “Scared you,” she teased, and he could have sworn that her tongue was out from beneath her mask. “Serves you right, you jerk.”

     “First off, ouch. Deserved, but ouch.” He scrunched his snout. “And did not.”

     “Did too.”

     Dylan brushed off some of the sand from his clothes, but it stubbornly clung to every surface. “If you want to end me now, Sora, you’d be doing me a favor.” He bit his thumb. “And… uh… aren’t you still mad at me?”

     “Oh, very.” She shrugged broadly, her voice calm as still water. “But if I ended you, then who would tell us about our enemy?”

     He pointed to the ship, then at the two of them. “Wait. Our enemy?”

     “That’s what I said.”

     “You mean the Mariner’s Crew?”

     “Mmhm.” She foot tapped the sand impatiently. “I snuck out from the village meeting after one of the kunoichi—that’s a woman ninja,” she added when Dylan’s brow furrowed, “heard how the pirates abandoned you after you lied to them.”

     Dylan visibly winced. “Okay, ouch.”

     “But it’s true, right?”

     He muttered a few words under his breath, which seemed to appease her.

     “So,” she pressed, taking a step closer, “how do we defeat them?”

     Dylan couldn’t help but laugh. “Defeat them? Those guys?”

     “Yeah.”

     “But they’re pirates! Trained pirates.”

     “And we’re ninjas.” She spun a kunai around her paw that had been hidden somewhere in her inky outfit. “Stealth is kind of our game.”

     The two of them deliberated for what seemed like minutes on end. It was a foolish plan—crazy, even—but just crazy enough that it might work. There was a series of arrows, circles, and squiggles drawn in the sand representing different parts of their scheme.

     “This way,” Sora made a large circle around a doodle of the boat, “no one needs to perish and we all get what we want.”

     Dylan rubbed his chin pensively. “You really think it’ll work?”

     “It has to.” She gulped. “Otherwise…”

     “Yeah.”

     Neither of them had to say it.

     After admiring their handiwork, the Krawk held out his fist into the air, causing the Kacheek to flinch back. “What?” he asked. “You’ve never heard of a fist bump before?”

     “A fist…” she pantomimed a hill, “bump?”

     “Yeah. It’s what we ‘outsiders’ do when we’re excited about something.”

     “Oh.” With hesitation, she mirrored the pirate’s action and the two fists met. “Like this?”

     It seemed as if two worlds were colliding in that moment: one of pirates, and one of ninjas. The two held firm as their eyes locked.

     “Yeah. And there will be more where that comes from, Sora…”

     “When I see the outside,” she finished with a hopeful rise in her voice.

     “When we see the outside,” he corrected. “Together.”

     “Together.”

     ~~

     It took some convincing on Sora’s end, but she managed to round up the small village in the night. While some of the villagers grew visibly angry to see Dylan there, she assured him that he had as much of a stake in this as they did; after all, the pirates wanted him gone. What did he have to lose by helping? A crew of the most able-bodied fighters lay in wait to ambush and trap the pirate crew while dozens of others, Dylan and Sora included, boarded small fishing boats—with ample rope—that slipped quietly along the waves.

     At first light, a trumpet sounded from the bow of the ship as legions of rough-and-tumble pirates charged down the gangplank towards the ninjas in the sand. As they approached, the figures they thought were Neopian morphed into doppelgangers made of wood, stone, and worn armour. All around the doppelgangers, sandpits swallowed up pirates left and right. Hidden ninjafolk used carefully crafted disguises, appearing only to whack the trapped pirates unconscious with the flat end of their katanas. It was pandemonium—quickly, the ninjas overwhelmed the pirates who charged in with brute force, as one after the other they fell to the ninja’s blades.

     Salty Simon shouted in disgust, exclaiming for them to read their opponents before charging blindly, not that the brutish vanguard took that advice. But the cannons they fired in reply certainly left a mark, and narrowly missed more than a few of the ninjas who dodged before it was too late. The scarred and grizzled sea captain smirked as he watched the ninjakin scatter from the power of his biggest weapons… but what he did not notice was when one less cannon fired. Then two. Then three. It wasn’t until only one cannon was manned that he turned towards the lack in deafening sound. There, where his powder Mynci should be, were a small team of ninjas… and a hogtied and gagged member of his crew trying to bite through his bindings and failing.

     But that wasn’t what made the captain’s blood boil. What made him furious beyond words… was the lean, white-maned Krawk, short sword in hand, who pointed them towards the ship’s weaknesses while a stocky, black-clad Neopian fought off any attackers.

     “BOY!!” The captain shouted it with such fervor that both ninja and pirate alike looked back in alarm. In a single motion, he drew his cutlass and bolted forward, injuring a ninja that got into his path.

     Dylan’s eyes widened in fear as he watched the mad captain charge through the forces while letting out a malevolent cackle.

     “Go!” cried Sora. “He’s going to end you!”

     Dylan heartily shook his head. “If I run, he’ll end you!”

     “I’ll be fine!” as Sora said this, she threw a tear bomb that exploded in front of a pirate lackey’s eyes.

     Even with allies all around the ship, Salty Simon still fought like a Neopian possessed, knocking back ninjas to the ground, until he was mere feet from the duo.

     “A quick end is too good for you, boy,” he growled, taking a hearty swipe at Dylan’s side. Sora parried with a kunai. “And you as well, little girl.”

     “Not a chance, Captain Jerkface.” Sora dodged a swipe by the breadth of a hair before motioning to two of her comrades behind. One threw a smoke bomb, which brought an inky darkness to the ship, while the other used nun chucks to strike the captain’s arm. His grip loosened just slightly—just enough for Dylan to knock the cutlass away.

     Salty Simon held up both fists defensively, using his long ears to detect sound. “If you think that’s enough”—hearing the rustling of the Krawk’s mane, he made a clean kick to Dylan’s gut—"then you’re dead wrong.”

     “Dylan!” cried Sora, as the Krawk skid against the wooden deck.

     Meanwhile, Salty Simon had thrown two daggers at the assisting ninjas, pinning them to the mast.

     The smoke was clearing as the trio—Dylan, panting and balanced on a hand—and both the captain and Sora were nearing the ship’s edge. With a swift motion, the captain picked up his fallen weapon and swung it down to make the final blow…

     Just as Sora tackled him, sending them both flying off the edge.

     “Sora!” cried Dylan.

     There was a loud splash as both hit the water. Dylan scrambled for a rope to pull her up and tossed it overboard. Within seconds, though, it became clear that the captain was a far stronger swimmer. Panicking, he reached for the nearest heavy object—a barrel half-filled of salted beef—and lobbed it overhead.

     WHAM.

     With luck, it hit its mark. The pirate captain reeled back in pain, giving just enough time for Sora to climb up the rope. By this point, the ninjas on the island had boarded the ship and all of the pirates aboard—except for Dylan—had been pushed into the ocean.

     The Draik from before—the one who had threatened Dylan—gave an approving smirk as he took hold of the wheel and gave it a hard turn.

     Dylan barked directions to the ninjafolk on how to unfurl the sails as they sped away over the waves. All the while, the pirates shouted all manner of sailor swears. A few tried—and failed—to board the boat as it slipped away over the briny depths.

      Miles away, a light breeze tickled Dylan’s face. Sora, who had since removed her ninja hood, enjoyed the sea’s tickle. She let out a contented sigh.

     “So, Dylan,” she asked as the ninja folk gathered around them, “where do we go now?”

     The young Krawk had done some digging in the cabin and found a star map—one just like the one his mother had showed him when he was young. He couldn’t put a finger on it, but holding one of these again… brought a sort of excitement to his heart. A sort of traveler’s spirit he had always wanted to awaken. The stars, the sky—it all beckoned him, cleared the way for a new path. Spreading out the map with both hands, he circled a town with his nail.

     “First,” he announced it proudly, “to Bony Fish, and then…”

     “And then?” echoed Sora, a wide grin on her face.

     “The world.”

     The End.