บท 4: Self-Awarness
Rain hammered down in relentless sheets, mingling with the salty spray as monstrous waves crashed against the ship's hull. The sky, a churning mass of black clouds, was lit sporadically by lightning, each flash casting jagged shadows across the deck. As this storm raged around them, Olson and Neckbeard circled each other on the heaving deck, their eyes locked in mutual hatred. Rain lashed at their faces, the deck slick and treacherous beneath their feet.
Olson tightened his grip on his sabre, his stance shifting into the familiar rhythm of the Dirk Dance, a fighting style from his homeland which traditionally used a dirk but Olson had adjusted it to be used with a sabre.
Neckbeard, wielding his katana with deadly confidence, grinned through his tangled beard. "Ready to die, Olson?"
"Answer is what I say to death every single day: Not today," Olson growled back. He began his dance, moving in a seemingly erratic pattern that accounted for the rocking of the ship. His feet glided over the slick deck in graceful, unpredictable movements.
Neckbeard's grin faltered as he tried to follow Olson's rhythm. The captain's dance was mesmerizing, his footwork circling and shifting, making it difficult to predict his next move. Olson's sabre clashed with Neckbeard's katana in a series of rapid, controlled binds, each clash a calculated move to dominate and control Neckbeard's blade.
Olson's sabre flashed in the storm's light, striking at Neckbeard with swift, precise jabs, each attack aimed to exploit the pirate captain's momentary lapses in defence. Neckbeard struggled to counter, his katana locking against Olson's sabre in a desperate attempt to regain control. Olson's movements were fluid, almost hypnotic, his footwork never faltering despite the ship's violent rocking.
Neckbeard roared in frustration, swinging his katana in a wide arc. Olson ducked beneath the swing, his sabre thrust out to slice a thin line across Neckbeard's arm. Blood mingled with rainwater, the pirate captain's face twisting in pain and rage.
"OLSON!"
Amidst this chaos, Gojo and Fenwick faced off. Fenwick, his long, blonde hair plastered to his face by the rain, stood tall, exuding an air of menace. His muscles tensed as he channelled his energy outside his body and materialized it.
[ Hatsu: Blackthorn ]
The black harpoon-like arrow conjured out of thin air, hovering ominously in the air before him. Even in the storm's wild dance, it seemed unnatural still, as if defying the tempest.
After a sharp, shrill whistle from Fenwick's lips that cut through the noise of the storm, the Blackthorn hurtled toward Gojo. The harpoon sliced through the rain, speed faster than an average bullet, a blur of darkness aimed straight at Gojo's heart.
Gojo, with his Six Eyes glowing faintly behind his dark glasses, saw the attack coming in crystal clarity. He moved just as the harpoon reached him, pivoting on one foot to let it pass mere inches from his chest. The harpoon hissed as it shot past, destroying wooden boxes and steel cargos alike, splinters flying from the impact before it stopped in midair.
Fenwick was already in motion after blowing the whistle, his feet barely touching the slick, rain-soaked deck as he charged at Gojo. He threw a hammer punch toward Gojo's side with a speed that belied his size. Gojo met the punch with a perfectly timed block, his arm absorbing the force of the blow. Despite the rain pouring down, drenching them both, Gojo's expression remained calm, though he could feel the raw power behind Fenwick's strike.
'He is around the same level as a Grade 3 Jujutsu Sorcerer. Really puts my power regression into perspective.' Gojo thought.
The air crackled with tension as Fenwick blew his whistle again with his free hand, a low, eerie note different from the one before. Blackthorn, which had been floating, turned and twisted in mid-air, turning back toward Gojo with lethal intent.
Gojo's eyes flicked to the side, tracking the harpoon's return. He spun away just in time, the harpoon whizzing past his head so closely that he could feel the cold air it displaced. But as he dodged, Fenwick seized the moment, his body a blur as he delivered a spinning back kick.
The kick came with the force of a cannonball. Gojo managed to raise one arm to block it, his other hand instinctively moving to keep his glasses from slipping off. The impact was so powerful that it sent Gojo flying as his back hit the square side of a cargo, and even managed to push back the multiple tonnes weighing Cargo by a few feet.
'It doesn't matter, more than know what I can't do anymore, I still am aware what I am capable of even in this condition.'
Fenwick didn't stop there, he moved towards Gojo and performed a roundhouse kick, a move that had taken a man's life earlier. Gojo blocked it but the force sent him skidding across the deck, his feet slipping on the wet wood. He crashed into a stack of crates with a splintering sound, the force of the blow scattering them like kindling.
'And when possibilities and problems come I can figure out how to face them.'
For a moment, Gojo was obscured by the debris, rainwater pooling around the broken crates. Fenwick's eyes narrowed, watching the wreckage with predatory anticipation. But then, slowly, Gojo rose to his feet, brushing off the shards of wood as if they were nothing more than dust. His clothes were soaked, his hair plastered to his face, but he remained unfazed. His hand adjusted his glasses, a casual gesture that seemed almost out of place amidst the chaos.
Fenwick spoke, "You are still alive? Perhaps you are tougher than you look."
The storm raged on, the ship tilting dangerously as another wave crashed over the side, drenching both combatants further. The sea roared, its fury mirrored in the intense battle unfolding on deck.
"You're stronger than I expected," Gojo remarked, his voice calm even, though it carried easily over the storm. His eyes, hidden behind the dark lenses, were locked on Fenwick.
Fenwick smirked, as he prepared to blow another whistle for another attack. "But you were not as strong as I first expected."
Gojo shrugged. "Give me a break. I am still adjusting to this Nen thing okay..."
In the distance, the battle between the two captains raged on.
"You'll pay for that, Olson!" Neckbeard snarled. He shifted his stance, when he was young Neckbeard was part of a failed mutiny which led him to be thrown off the ship, but survived and washed up on the shores of a prefecture in the island nation of Jappon. During his stay, he trained with Katana in a famous sword school where he excelled with two techniques.
Mawashi-Uchi, an offensive overhead strike where the practitioner pulls the blade back smoothly from the side to the overhead position after each strike, allowing for a continuous and fluid sequence of attacks.
Kiri-age, a defensive-counter technique involving an upward cut or slash. The blade is typically drawn from a lower position, such as near the hip, and directed upward toward the opponent's torso, neck, or head. This allows the practitioner to swiftly respond to an opponent's downward strike with a powerful upward motion.
Adopting both these offensive and defensive moves, Neckbeard came up with his own signature technique which combined both offensive and defensive movements.
'Returning Steel Waves'
His movements became a continuous flow of offence and defence, his katana slicing through the air with relentless precision. Olson felt the shift immediately. Neckbeard's attacks were now a seamless barrage, each strike blending into the next. Olson parried and dodged, his Dirk Dance adjusting to the new rhythm, but failing and made him step back again and again.
"What will we do with a Crippled Captian? What will we do with a Crippled Captian? What will we do with a Crippled Captian? Early in the morning?" Neckbeard began to sing.
Neckbeard's katana clashed with Olson's sabre, sparks flying with each contact. The pirate captain's mastery of the bind and swod art was undeniable, his attacks unyielding and merciless. Olson's defensive manoeuvres were overwhelmed by the continuous, disorienting pressure of Neckbeard's technique.
"Weigh, Hey, and Up Lady Olson rises. Weigh, Hey, and Up she rises. Weigh, Hey, and Up she rises. Early in the morning."
Neckbeard landed a decisive blow, his katana slicing deep into Olson's side. The wound was severe, causing Olson to stagger back, his dirk nearly slipping from his grip. Neckbeard, sensing victory, pressed the attack with renewed ferocity. His moves worked in perfect harmony, creating a relentless assault that left Olson with no room to recover.
"Stuff Captian Olson in a sack and throw him over. Stuff him in a sack and throw him over. Stuff him in a sack and throw him over. Early in the Morning."
In a sudden, violent manoeuvre, Neckbeard slashed downward with such force that he severed Olson's hand. The severed hand fell, the sabre clattering to the deck as Olson staggered back, clutching the bloody stump of his wrist.
"Feed him to the hungry sea for dinner. Feed him to the hungry sea for dinner. Feed him to the hungry sea for dinner. Early in the morning."
The intensity of the battle between Gojo and Fenwick heightened. The ship's deck, slick with rainwater and swaying with each wave, became an unpredictable and treacherous arena.
Fenwick Blackthorn was born and raised in Meteor City, a lawless place infamous for being the crime dump of the world, and where everything that was deemed illegal in the rest of the world was the stuff of mass practice. Fenwick had watched friends from childhood turn to prostitution while others hoped to rise in the rank of some gang, but all of them were now dead like many before them. People died in numbers reaching thousands every day in Meteor City, maybe even more, no one as nobody kept a count. How did Fenwick survive? When asked Fenwick always answered with this.
'Because I have self-awareness. People live out their lives dictated by elements they aren't aware of. They are slaves to the unknowns, but not me, I am self-awareness. I always think and take action in terms of elements that could affect me, directly, or indirectly, known or unknown, I never lose that mindset and that's why I am free. Because I have self-awareness.'
The air crackled with tension, and the sound of the howling wind mixed with the sharp notes of Fenwick's whistle as Blackthorn was once again hurled towards Gojo.
Gojo leapt into the air with a graceful spin, his body twisting mid-flight like a dancer caught in a storm as the Blackthorn missed him once again. As he spun, he slipped out of his shoes with a fluid motion, launching them toward Fenwick. The shoes hurtled through the air, each aimed at different parts of Fenwick's body—one heading for his face, the other for his midsection.
Fenwick's eyes narrowed as he immediately used Gyo, enhancing his vision with Nen to scrutinize the incoming objects. His eyes scanned the shoes rapidly, searching for any hidden traps or illusions that might be at play. But to his surprise, he found nothing—no tricks, no concealed weapons, just ordinary shoes.
A flicker of confusion crossed Fenwick's face, but he didn't have time to ponder it. He swiftly brought up his arm to intercept one shoe with a powerful punch, his fist connecting with a wet thud. Simultaneously, he raised his leg to kick the other shoe away with a swift, precise movement. Both shoes were deflected with ease, sent flying off into the stormy night.
Standing on top of a crate, Gojo reached down, grabbing hold of the broken crate he earlier landed on. With a powerful heave, he hurled it through the air, the wooden box spinning wildly as it hurtled toward Fenwick. The crate cut through the rain like a missile, its trajectory aimed directly at Fenwick. Before Fenwick could fully regroup his thoughts after deflecting the shoes, he noticed something out of the corner of his eye—a large crate, hurtling towards him with deadly speed.
Fenwick acted on instinct, bringing a hand to his lips and blowing a sharp note. Blackthorn, the harpoon-like arrow that had been hovering in the background, shot toward the crate, aiming to intercept it. The harpoon struck just as the crate was less than a meter away, splintering the wood with a loud crack.
But as the crate shattered, its contents spilt out, drenching Fenwick in a watery, viscous substance. The liquid splashed across his body, soaking his clothes and the deck beneath him. It wasn't just water—there was something thicker, more slippery about it, like oil or some other fluid meant to increase the slickness of the already treacherous deck.
But Gojo wasn't finished. In the wake of the shattered crate, he swiftly pulled off his glasses. With a flick of his wrist, he sent the glasses flying after the crate, the lenses spinning rapidly through the stormy air, aimed squarely at Fenwick once again.
Fenwick, his senses heightened by Gyo, caught sight of the glasses just in time. His instincts screamed that something was off. Despite the chaotic situation, he focused on the glasses, his sharp gaze discerning the aura surrounding them. Realizing the threat, he quickly blew another note on his whistle, commanding Blackthorn to intercept the glasses.
The harpoon responded instantly, slicing through the air towards the glasses. With a resounding crack, Blackthorn struck the glasses, shattering them into countless pieces that scattered through the rain like glinting shards before flying away.
'What the hell? Was it not a Hatsu? Just Shu?'
Fenwick's attention snapped back to Gojo, who now stood a few meters away, balanced precariously on two knives held between the toes of each foot. The sight was bizarre and unsettling, yet Gojo looked perfectly at ease, even in the chaotic environment. His face bore that same calm, almost playful expression as he seemed to float above the deck, supported only by the narrow blades.
'What can he do to me through this?'
Without warning, Gojo leapt toward Fenwick, the knives still clutched between his toes, aiming directly for his opponent. His movements were swift and fluid, like a phantom cutting through the storm. Fenwick barely had time to react; he threw himself to the side, narrowly avoiding the lethal stab.
As Fenwick dodged, he countered with a powerful punch, intending to catch Gojo in mid-air. But as his fist connected with Gojo's body as it turned, it slipped through, the oily substance coating them both causing Fenwick's punch to slide off harmlessly.
When he got onboard Gojo with his Six Eyes didn't only take into account the people onboard but also the substances in the crates, Anti-Traction gel, also called mobility denial gel, it's a non-lethal weapon used by some navy. Generally used to suppress riots and block bridges, after an object comes in contact with this substance its friction will decrease, in other words - It slips. And it's effective enough to stop car tyres from moving.
Fenwick's balance wavered as his feet slipped on the slick deck. He stumbled, his footing lost in the treacherous conditions and fell hard against the wooden planks. Before he could recover, Gojo, still in the air, adjusted his trajectory with a quick twist of his body. He came down with a knife pointed straight at Fenwick's midsection.
With a wet, sickening sound, the blades plunged into Fenwick's abdomen, driven by the momentum of Gojo's leap. Fenwick's eyes widened in shock, a gasp of pain escaping his lips as he felt the cold steel enter his body.
The storm roared around them, the wind and rain drowning out all other sounds. Gojo landed softly, his one foot still balanced on the knives embedded in Fenwick. He looked down at his opponent with a calm detachment, as if this were just another step in a well-rehearsed performance.
Fenwick, clutching at the knife, tried to push Gojo off, but slipped, his body slick with the same substance that had led to his downfall. Gojo, still perfectly composed on one leg of the feet held the knife, stepped back, pulling the knife free with a swift motion. Fenwick grunted in pain, spun and tried getting back up, his stance adapting to the gel, as blood mixed with the rainwater as it pooled beneath him. Fenwick's expression broke into a frenzied amusement.
"You threw the ordinary shoes at me first to distract me, then the crate knowing I would Blackthorn to destroy it, then reinforced glasses to keep me confused, distracted from the substance's nature as you executed your plan. Well done, you are just like me, you have self-awareness. When I give pain or pleasure to someone with less or no self-awareness I feel special, you are the same right?"
Fenwick, gritting his teeth, channelled all his remaining Nen, feeling it surge through him like a tidal wave. As he slammed his hand onto the gel-covered deck, his aura exploded throwing all the gel on him outwards as he glared at Gojo, who remained infuriatingly calm despite the chaos.
"I always wanted to kill someone like me!" Fenwick snarled with mad eyes, then blew another whistle into a short melodious rhythm. Blackthorn in the background moved to the rhythm, it quickly pierced the bodies of two unsuspecting passengers before they could even let out a yelp and flew towards Gojo before launching the two bodies at him, before following suit. Then suddenly Fenwick too launched himself into the air for a deadly double kick aimed at Gojo's footing.
Gojo weaved between the two hurling bodies, then leaned back with one bent leg dodging the Blackthorn, and then as Fenwick came for footing, Gojo leapt, twisted in mid-air, dodging the attack.
His voice almost teased as he quipped, "You're really putting your all into this, huh? Too bad it's not enough."
Fenwick's feet sliced through empty air, and before he could get a stable footing, Gojo leapt onto a nearby crate, using it as a springboard to tackle Fenwick towards the ship's railing and knocking the air out of his lungs. The ship tilted to one side in the storm, as they barreled towards the edge, Gojo's hand shot out to grab a nearby rope hooked to a large crate, using it to steer their descent.
Fenwick, panic flickering in his eyes, blew his whistle desperately, commanding Blackthorn, the harpoon-like arrow one more time. The dark weapon flew through the stormy air, aimed straight for Gojo's heart.
But Gojo twisted at the last second, and the Blackthorn only grazed his thigh. "Nice try," Gojo muttered, a smirk tugging at his lips. "But you're out of time."
They crashed into the railing with a sickening thud, and as the storm howled around them, Gojo gripped the rope tight, dragging Fenwick along as they both plummeted into the churning sea below.
Fenwick's eyes widened in shock as he realized what was happening. "No…!" he shouted, his voice lost in the roar of the storm as the freezing waters swallowed them whole.
The Blackthorn hovered above as the two men disappeared beneath the waves, leaving only the furious ocean to mark their fall.
On the deck, Captain Olson, bleeding and weakened, struggled to rise as Neckbeard towered over him, his katana raised for the killing blow. Neckbeard's eyes gleamed with triumph. "This is the end for you, Olson. The sea will swallow your bones!"
But before he could strike, a shuriken whizzed through the stormy air, forcing Neckbeard to block with his katana. The metal clanged, and Neckbeard snarled, turning to see Kurapika standing between him and the fallen captain.
"Who the hell are you?!" Neckbeard spat, his voice filled with venom.
Kurapika's eyes burned with determination as he unravelled the bandages from his bokken, revealing two gleaming wakizashi. "Just someone who won't let you have your way."
Leorio, seeing his chance, dashed forward and quickly lifted the injured Captain Olson onto his shoulders. "I'll get him to safety! Hold this bastard off!"
Kurapika nodded, his eyes never leaving Neckbeard. "Go! I'll handle this."
As Leorio disappeared into the chaos with the captain, Neckbeard sneered. "You think you can stand up to me, boy? I've cut down better men than you!"
Kurapika's response was to launch himself forward with a Leaping Double Slash, his wakizashi slashing through the air with deadly precision. Neckbeard met the attack with a vicious downward cut, their blades clashing violently.
"You'll regret stepping in, little whelp!" Neckbeard roared, his Returning Steel Waves in action as he pressed Kurapika with a series of relentless strikes. The attacks seemed to come from all directions, each blow aimed to overpower and disorient.
Kurapika gritted his teeth, narrowly dodging the lethal swings. He countered with a Double Crossed Slash, his blades forming an X as they struck at Neckbeard's midsection. The pirate captain grunted, deflecting one blade but catching a shallow cut from the other.
"You're quicker than I thought," Neckbeard growled, shaking off the pain. "But you're still no match for me!"
He pressed forward with his Bind technique, locking Kurapika's wakizashi in place with his katana and forcing him back step by step. "Caught you now, boy! You're mine!"
Kurapika felt the weight of Neckbeard's strength, but he wasn't about to be overwhelmed. With a sharp movement, he struck sparks off his blades, signalling the start of his Sparking Sword Flurry. The flurry of fast slashes forced Neckbeard to break the bind and step back, his defences barely holding up against the assault.
"You're strong," Kurapika said, his breath coming in controlled bursts. "But I aim to kill stronger."
With a determined shout, Kurapika lunged into a Dual Sword Thrust, both blades aiming straight for Neckbeard's chest. The pirate captain twisted to avoid a fatal hit, but Kurapika's speed was relentless. One sword grazed his side while the other pierced through his shoulder.
"Agh!" Neckbeard roared in pain but quickly retaliated with a sweeping horizontal cut, forcing Kurapika to retreat a step.
"You're going to pay for that, you brat!" Neckbeard hissed, raising his katana for a deadly overhead strike.
But Kurapika, his eyes burning with resolve, wasn't done yet. He swiftly pivoted and, with a fluid motion, launched into another Leading Double Slash, aiming to end the fight. Neckbeard moved to the side barely dodging the attack.
Kurapika, adrenaline surging through him, moved with precision and grace. Neckbeard, battered and bleeding, tried to bring his sword to bear but struggled against the relentless assault.
"Still not giving up, huh?" Kurapika said through gritted teeth, his voice steady despite the chaos around them.
He began with a decisive Overhead Smash, raising one of his swords high and bringing it crashing down towards Neckbeard. The blow connected with a sharp clang, causing Neckbeard to stagger. Kurapika followed up with a Double Overhead Smash, using both swords to deliver a powerful double strike that forced Neckbeard to his knees even after he managed to block.
"Don't think this ends here!" Neckbeard spat, struggling to get back on his feet.
Kurapika didn't give Neckbeard a moment to recover. He crouched low and executed a Shoulder Dash Combo. He barged forward with his shoulder, pushing one blade, smashing through Neckbeard's defences. The momentum carried him into two horizontal slashes, each strike precise and devastating, ending with a Dual Sword Thrust that drove both wakizashi deep into Neckbeard's side.
Neckbeard roared in pain, but Kurapika was relentless.
"You have spilt too much blood," Kurapika said, twisting his swords. "Time to end this."
He performed another swift Double Crossed Slash, his blades forming deadly X-shaped slashes that cut through the pirate's remaining defences.
Neckbeard gasped, his strength failing him. "You... you can't—"
Kurapika cut him off with a steely gaze. "I can, and I will."
With Neckbeard's guard shattered, Kurapika prepared his final strike. He leaned back, gathering his strength for a Dual Sword Thrust.
"This is for everyone you've killed," he said as he thrust both swords forward, piercing through Neckbeard's heart and lungs.
Neckbeard's eyes widened in shock, and he fell to the deck, his body finally still. Kurapika wiped the blood from his blades, his face etched with a mix of relief and exhaustion.
Below the deck, as both Nen users plunged into the icy depths, the cold shock of the water hit Fenwick like a sledgehammer, but his mind immediately kicked into survival mode.
'Self-awareness. Think.' He knew Gojo wouldn't have come down here without a plan. The first thing he considered was the rope—was it tied to him to drag him down? His hands fumbled along his body, searching for any bindings, but there was nothing. 'The crate came down with us so he can't use it as a lifeline.'
'So what's that guy up to?' he thought, forcing himself to remain calm despite the rapidly dwindling air in his lungs.
Instinctively, Fenwick activated Gyo in his eyes, the world beneath the waves lighting up with the glow of nen. Through the murky water, he spotted Gojo, deeper than expected, holding the rope with one hand while smashing open a crate with the other. The shattered crate revealed a brand new engine, something Gojo had obviously intended to use all along.
Fenwick's eyes narrowed as he noticed the engine had a fuel tank—one likely filled with air.
'He's got a longer supply down here,' Fenwick realized, his heart sinking as he saw Gojo tearing out the tank, pressing the tube to his lips, and inhaling the precious oxygen.
'Damn it!' Fenwick cursed silently. He tried to blow his whistle, but the sound was muffled and useless underwater. 'No Blackthorn, no time…'
His lungs burned as he weighed his options. Realizing he was running out of air, Fenwick turned, kicking his legs furiously to swim back to the surface. He needed to escape, to regroup, to find air. But before he could ascend far, he felt a sudden movement behind him—a sharp, cold pain as something pierced his neck.
Gojo had come up from behind, his eyes cold and calculating, as he drove the knife deep into Fenwick's flesh. Fenwick's eyes widened in shock and agony, his hands instinctively reaching for the wound, but it was too late. Blood mixed with the seawater around him as his strength faded, his vision darkening.
He watched helplessly as Gojo pushed off from him, swimming effortlessly upward.
'So this… is how it ends..' Fenwick thought as his consciousness began to slip away, the sea claiming him as he drowned, the life bleeding out of him in the cold, dark depths.
'He is just like the others... Eyes with emotions... Everyone else has the same eyes except me... But I have self-awareness. This guy is different from me. We do the same things... We are even the same kind... But he is dazzling... So dazzling.'
His consciousness started fading into blackness.
'But I am... So dark... I was born in darkness. I die in darkness.'
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LimitlessDrill
LimitlessDrill I noticed some mistakes I made in Chapter 2, but it's fixed now.
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