His boot-clad feet planted atop the dinghy; his brown irises taking hold of the sight of the purest of blues—betrayed by the name of "Dark Sea"—the boy's name was Yahya. Just Yahya. And with such a sight to behold; with the cool breeze of the setting day brushing against his hair; with a miniature notebook in his left hand and a pen in his right, he took to jotting down. "Whatcha writin'?" said the long, navy-blue-haired boy in a kimono to Yahya's right who called himself "Okuma." He looked over to Yahya's shoulder and attempted to read, but Yahya turned around.
"Whatcha writin', whatcha writin', whatcha writ—" Yahya sighed.
"I am jotting down the sight in front."
"Sounds neat." The sound of pen meeting paper filled the blue air. Then Yahya placed his pen and notebook in his backpack and said, "You know…"
Yahya turned his head over to the boy. "Can you get any more annoying?"
"Yes."
"Wasn't a question."
"Seemed like it." Yahya ruffled his hair and strode over to the cockpit of the dinghy.
"Thou choosest to pester mineself? I? Vincent Howardson? He who commandeth thy vessel? A foolish decision 'tis," said the short, black-haired, cloak-clad man. Yahya replied, "Yeah, what you said."
"Wait, no, I am no fool!" Yahya yelled and looked at Vincent. Atop the stairs, gazing upon Vincent's turned back, Yahya noticed Vincent's complexion to be like snow. "You will catch a cold if you keep wearing that cotton cloak and nothing else."
"Thine attention must turn to the impetus of this moment." A soft roar reverberated as Vincent spoke such words.
"The Supreme Whale?"
"No. Rather, I am famished."
"And III~ am too!" said Okuma, walking beside Yahya.
Sat beside each other at the forecastle of the dinghy, a pot of various canned vegetables cooked calmly between the three men. "So, where are you from?" Yahya asked, turning his head to Okuma.
"I am grateful that ya asked! My name is Okuma and I am from… it doesn't matter!"
"Dost thou speak of nonsense? 'It doesn't matter' is not a real place." Vincent chimed in.
"Judging from your kimono, are you from Japan?"
"What's a Japan?"
"Right…" Yahya turned his head over to Vincent.
"Vincent."
"Thou hast spoken mine name."
"Where are you from?"
"He who beareth the name of Vincent Howardson haileth from the Kingdom of Ardonia."
"Kingdom of Ardonia…" The pot began to boil.
"Please get the pot, Vincent."
"I refuse."
"Why!?"
"I got it." said Okuma, walking over and picking up the pot of vegetables and placing it down.
"If Vincent won't do anything, then I wi—"
Vincent interjected, "I takest offense to thy sentiment. Thus I shall help."
"What…?" Yahya murmured.
Vincent prepared three metal bowls filled with soup, vegetables, and a minuscule amount of meat. The entire pot's reservoir was consumed within the making of those three bowls. Even so, certainly 'twas meager. The three did not waste their breath complaining and commenced their meal. "Umai!" said Okuma.
Yahya asked, "What does umai mean?"
"It muns 'tis tasty." Okuma mumbled as he ate a carrot with a spoon.
"…"
Okuma paused as he swallowed and tilted his head up. "What?" he asked.
"No, I just thought you might want to eat the soup with bread."
"I don't like bread."
"'Kay—noted."
"Mayest thou pass unto mineself a portion of thou bread?" Vincent asked. "Here," Yahya breaks off a piece of bread and hands it to Vincent.
"I offerest sincere gratitude."
"What? Don't. You'll run out of gratitude if you're like that."
Vincent placed his hand on his chin and replied, "I supposest that an Emperor ought to hath himself some pride. 'Tis noted."
"Now an Emperor shouldn't accept advice so humbly."
"Noted." A moment of silence ensues; brief 'twas.
"No!" roared Yahya. "In the first place, why would an Emperor be on a dinghy?"
"There are many Emperors that hath travelled via boat."
"But usually those Emperors don't ride in a boring dinghy with only two other people."
"I see."
"That shouldn't be a revelation!" Okuma's hand reached into the bowl between Yahya's crossed legs.
Yahya cried out, "Hey!" Okuma held in his hand a sizable piece of meat.
"The leading actor of the world has found himself meat!"
Yahya with his hands seized Okuma's two cheeks faster than Okuma could even place the meat into his mouth. "Why you…!"
Okuma shouted, "Y-Ya were gonna let the food go cold!"
"Shut up!" exploded Yahya. Okuma's brow furrowed.
"Why should I?! Huh?!"
Yahya clenched his fist. Why do I feel so angry all of the sudden? he thought. "Why I ought to…"
"Stopeth this farce," said Vincent. Yahya grit his teeth.
"I am going to my room." Yahya declared, leaving behind his bowl.
A single day passed. A statement of any higher grandiose would fail in that it refers to that which is greater than what had occurred. Thus, "nothing happened" is the great descriptor.
Okuma sat on the railing and looked out to the crashing waves, enjoying the brisk wind gently brushing his hair and caressing his face like how his mother would sometimes do while singing him lullabies.
"O-ku-ma, O-ku-ma," Okuma sounded out his name as he reveried.
"Hey," said the approaching figure—Yahya.
"Yo."
"Look—I am sorry for, erm… lashing out at you—earlier. All right?" Okuma stands up from his previous position atop the railing of the dinghy.
"No biggy, Yahya-kun."
"'-kun'"
"Ah, that, it is… I forgot."
"Accordeth to mine books, '-kun' is an honorific-suffix in the Japanese language." said the now fur-coat-clad man yclept Vincent.
Yahya muttered, "At least you won't be getting a cold…"
"What?"
Yahya replied, "Nothing, nothing." Yahya mused with his head up to the sky.
"Okuma, you don't know about Japan, yet you clearly have some Japanese mixed in your speech."
"What's a Japan?"
"Precisely my point."
"I am not acquainted with this 'Japan' thou speakest of." Vincent said.
"Th—Then where did you hear that from?!" Yahya exclaimed.
"Thou hast quite the imagination. I heareth from mine books." Yahya turned his head to Okuma, who simply shrugged his shoulders and said, "I don't know what yer talkin' 'bout, Yahya-kun."
Yahya sighed heftily. "All right, you guys win. Japan doesn't exist in this world." he rolled his eyes.
"What?" said Okuma. Yahya looked up. The boy, short in stature yet long in hair, stood on the railings of the dinghy. How could he not have noticed? Yahya called out, "Okuma, get down—before you fall off."
Okuma replied, "'Kayyy~."
Time felt as if it passed faster than it should have, and before anyone knew it, the time for sleep had come—except for the fact that Yahya could not sleep. He found it odd how he tossed and turned, felt tired, but could never truly dip his toes in the realm of sleep. Anomaly. He stepped out of bed and walked through the cabin of the dinghy. Saying that the hallway stretched for twenty feet would be an overstretch.
Vincent would usually read at this time… Yahya thought as he rubbed his eye. A golden light peeked through Vincent's door at the end of the hall that was ajar. He approached and opened the door enough for his head to peek in.
"Vincent?"
"Thou hast spoketh mine name. Cometh, if thy willest." Vincent had a book within his lap as well as a kettle to his side which held tea. Yahya pushed open the door and stepped inside.
"Yo, Yahya-kun." Okuma said.
"Hey," Yahya waved and found a seat next to Vincent. The navy-blue boy sat on the floor.
"What are you reading?" and "Whatcha reading?".ring out from Yahya and Okuma respectively. Vincent's snow-like skin blushed and he closed his book.
Okuma muttered, "C'mon…" Okuma bolted up and snatched the book. "Lemme see!"
Yahya exclaimed, "Whoa, Okuma!"
"Thy imprudent behavior hast not been overlooked!"
"Let's see, 'I was Reborn in Another World as the Weakest Monster and Now I must Amass an Harem in Order to Slay the Devil King Despite—'" A hand was placed on Okuma's shoulder—Yahya's hand.
"Have some mercy, Okuma." said Yahya.
"Thou ar—You're a s-s-s-s-s-s-s-cuuumbag!" bellowed Vincent. Dramatic, thought Yahya.
"Vincent yer a chuuuni~."
"The hell's a chuuuni?" Vincent dashed forward and grabbed Okuma by the collar. The waves crashed with wild abandon, as if being commanded by the enraged Vincent. A roar cloaked within it.
"A chuuni is a… erm… very, very ejeeeeeee—ach!" Vincent swung his fist into Okuma's jaw.
"Edgy? If anything, I'd say you're very edgy." Vincent swung his fist once more, and then once more, and then once moremoremoremoremoremoremore. Okuma's body fell to the floor and his heartbeat fell as did the waves into absolute calm. Ceased.
"Must've lost my cool," Vincent muttered, wiping his blood-stained white glove on his black pants and looking at the knocked over kettle. "The tea is all over the floor."
Yahya turned to Okuma's limp body. "Is he… dead?"
"He deserved it."
"…"
The night was silent—sleepless—yet silent.
Yahya's mind swelled with an unprecedented ache. He stumbles through the cabin, lantern in hand. I don't think we ate—did we eat? Did. We. Eat…?
Yahya ascended the stairs and saw the stars above. The sunrise during sleepless nights was something Yahya longed for. I wonder how Okuma will annoy me tomorrow. Yahya thought. His little brother figure was so dear. Well, he did make me call him, "Ototo." I wonder what that means.
Yahya wandered further. We ought to apologize to Vincent. Brushing the dinghy's railings was oddly calming. He's a chuuni, huh? Was that why he spoke that way? The smoothness of the wood—that was. The waves crashed once more, breaking the previous extended period of calm. Right, why did we set out? Yahya pondered. A soft growl barely above a whisper continued to grow next to him. No, in front of him? No, behind him?
Yahya moved his lantern as he turned, attempting to find the source of the sound. Right, we set out to hunt the Supreme Whale. Yahya remembered.
A humongous red eye bulged out a hair's breadth away from his own brown eye.
"Wha…?"
The red eye of the Supreme Whale had dilated.
—Dark Sea Venture Number 127: Results: Unsatisfactory. Participants: Erased.