Masquerade wiped down Rose's back-- it was cleaned now, done under Visul's watch to ensure she wouldn't irritate the ailing wound.

They were on a bench in the palace, brought in and away from the scuffle.

Visul hissed, seeing the scars across the silver-haired girl's bare back.

Her hair was silver and sprawled long across her back, not in her usual hairstyle. Masquerade had brushed it away from the center of the back, revealing a mark.

A mark Visul's read in books.

The Hoof of a Soaring Dragon.

Visul pulled a thin blanket over Rose's back almost immediately, biting her bottom lip in distaste. She breathed in to hold back a whimper, but she was near tears.

She was seeing things now-- away from her little core of home, she was revealed to beautiful, wondrous things. Love, Gratitude, Acceptance.

But now she saw the harsh things-- Rejection, Fear, Separation.

"Slavery," Masquerade's voice was easing, calm-- she sounded emphatic, woeful-- "despicable, isn't it? Such a young, pretty child-- forced to hide forever."

Visul only hadn't seen it before because of Rose's long hair.

She felt an ache in her heart that could only be described as sorrow. How much did it hurt for Rose to see Mime, chained and taken away from her?

Visul knew how it felt to be rid of freedom.

Looking over, Visul noticed Masquerade take off her mask-- clasping her hands together, fingers interlocked, head bowed and eyes closed.

She would've asked what she was doing, but Masquerade spoke first, "please be safe, Pierrot," she said softly, "we need you."

Visul had already told the woman about the pink-haired's unprecedented meteorite entrance, and that he was going to be alright.

"If we pray, he'll come," Masquerade seemed to speak to Rose, a smile crawling up her expressions-- "right?"

Visul didn't understand, and didn't think she should.

  ー  

Marine Lieutenant  Niryou was a Paper Human. Upon contact, whether by force or by slice, he can scatter into innumerable pieces to evade.

Cross pouted as his blade, once again, drove through the man only for his chest to literally open up, the knife passing right through him and leaving him uninjured.

"Looks like this battle has become a waste of time, hasn't it?" Niryou taunted.

"Yeah," Cross puffed up a cheek, "I can dodge all your attacks, but none of my attacks are hitting you. I can't kill you like this..."

"You're not supposed to kill me, remember?"

"Jeez," Cross sulked. 

"C'mon, let's try that again," Niryou grinned, poising to continue the fight-- raising his fist, and standing in a sort of martial arts stance--

Cross felt a familiarity ring in him, but eyed it with interest. He turned toward the Lieutenant, eyes narrowing to observe the new air in the man.

Niryou's right was gripped into a tight fist, held out forward-- his left fist, tucked at his waist. 

They were quiet.

Cross put a foot back, and seemed to brace himself for the blow. 

When Niryou's fist swung, it was headed for Cross' right-- right for the neck. Cross swerved, jerking his body toward the blow--

Then, he tagged out.

Flipping into Niryou's spot, and Niryou into his-- Cross' fit smashed into Niryou's face, a blow too sudden and too abrupt to even register before it connected.

Cross drove as much strength as he could into that one blow-- and it seemed to do the trick.

The man was blown away, skidding with lost balance unto the ground. Niryou shot right up, cringing at the pain that flared in his head and fell right back down.

"The-" he choked, spitting out a wad of blood and teeth, "fuck?"

Cross breathed out-- then, smirked.

"People with those Fruits," he recalled, putting a finger rather cheekily at his lips, "should keep their abilities secret, right?"

Niryou felt defeated spiritually, but he really could only laugh.

"I give, you win, kid!" he lay down, looking at the sky, "I've been trying to get ahead a' you, but you tripped me out from under my feet instead!"

Cross beamed, "so, I win?"

"Sure, take it, you thief!" Niryou waved him off, "go chase after Ensie for all I care, he's the only one getting demoted for it."

Cross didn't really understand that part, but winning was good, and good means reward. So, it was good. Right? Good means Takara won't have any complaints. He thinks, at least.

"So, kid," Niryou spoke up, "how was your first ever fight?"

Fight.

That was different from an assassination, huh. Niryou was still alive, but he was the winner. It was harder than assassinating, yet, winning against him without murdering him was fun in its own right. It was less... quick, and much more satisfying.

He had to use his head and actually thought of countermeasures against a foe who faced him straight on, aware of him. Instead of taking an opponent by sneak and surprise, this was a duel to the face.

Cross found himself smiling, 

"It might be fun," he admitted.

And Niryou smiled right back.

"I'm glad you think so!"

  ー  

Hurled into the rubble nearly a hundred meters away, Lock crawled out from the debris. Smashed into a wooden building and shattering a wall, Lock was alive due to his inhumane physique.

"Grizzly Hornigold," he seethed, pushing aside a wooden plank that cranked his shoulder in place, "oh, I swear I will go out there and--" his foot was stuck under a pipe, but that was nothing against his physical capacity.

"Are you alright?"

"Goodness, is he alive?!"

Civilians were beginning to crawl around, concerned for his well being. He didn't like being cooed over, and was indoctrinated to never appreciate such false coddles.

Disregarding them, he pushed himself to his feet. Sores here and there, and one bad bleeding scratch on his head, but it didn't reach the nerves so he was alright.

The inn right beside him was called the Fox Ear-- if he recalled, the ship was on the other edge of this bay-- so, he had to take a right here...

"You alright?"

This boy was much too close. Emerging right before Lock, wrapped in bandages over his head, was a pink-haired male around his age.

Lock scoffed, not caring for civilians now when the mission was of importance-- "yes, I am," he quickly assured, "we deeply apologize for the disturbance. The marines are meeting some rather haughty disturbance, but it shouldn't take too long to subjugate those outlaws--"

"You're a marine?" the pinkhead seemed to turn foul in mood. His frown was not hidden, and his scowl was rather disgusted.

Disdainful looks, Lock flashed with understanding. A pirate-- that, or a Masked Merchant. Most probably the latter. "Yes, I am."

A fist flew at him.

Lock braced himself just barely in time to catch the blow-- a hard right fist aimed at his skull-- two hands were needed to shield himself. 

Lock grounded his feet, horrified to realize he was actually struggling in defense.

"You.. caught my fist," the pink-haired boy's fist was shaking-- but Lock didn't know if it was fear or excitement-- "this hasn't happened before."

Lock swallowed-- and realized.

He threw his foot up in a kick-- and the other boy caught it with one hand, trembling from the effort, but holding up well.

Lock-- Lock, a man that boasted inhumane physical strength-- was being stopped.

This physical strength, a quirk of his bloodline, a unique trait of what was his family and his race-- this man here, with awful hair, was making it null.

Why did he have this strength?

The parted from each other, and made a distance between them.

"Name yourself," Lock managed, unnerved. The boy was smiling, as if he was just utterly exasperated-- so exasperated by disbelief he was in denial.

"Me?" the boy clutched his chest, as if in pain, "Pierrot."

"Pierrot, as in a clown?" Lock was taken aback, "don't kid with me-- you must have had a proper name. Who birthed you? Where did you live? Why-- why?"

Why?

"Why?" Pierrot's face had fallen, "that's my line... why are you as strong as I am?"

Huh?

"Are you a monster?" Pierrot seethed.

That's what I should be asking you.