The rest of the day passed quietly. We had lunch, and I enjoyed some goblin cuisine for the first time in a while. I tried to tell Coda how I didn’t need to eat, but he forced food onto me, so I really didn’t have any choice. The eel stew was good, though, and when I tried to give compliments to the chef, Coda just said ‘Thank you!’ for some reason.
Then, I was finally given a proper station. Tar-duty. The other goblins pitied me for it, which I didn’t understand even as I began my work, removing pieces of dried, hardened tar from the deck and railings. As I removed them, more appeared, usually quite small, sometimes fairly big and still molten. I didn’t mind it.
At dinner, they toasted for me, and I toasted with them. I got really drunk, and at some of the younger member’s coaxing, I wore a few of my skins, parading around to their amusement, doing theater while wearing different skins for different characters. They laughed and I laughed and I forgot to guard my back. But nobody stabbed it.
The evening concluded, night duties began, and although I insisted to Coda that I didn’t need to sleep, he was adamant in preparing a hammock for me in the common sleeping room. I relented.
However, once the night fell, I couldn’t sleep. So I spent my first night on deck, helping those there with their duties. Barbariccia, ever the grouch, refused to let me help him keep a lookout in the drake’s nest. His argument was that since I was a human, the second he turned his back, I was sure to leap at him and tear him to bits and pieces within minutes to then replace him by wearing his skin. I didn’t have it in me to admit that it wouldn’t even take me a minute. Nevertheless, I continued my other duties.
Days passed in a similar fashion. Every day, I told myself I’d tell Coda I couldn’t stay in the crew, and every day, I decided to postpone it just one more day.
A week into my stay, I began to notice something. The crew didn’t exactly have groups. It wasn’t a matter of the nine goblins being split into three or even two friend groups, but rather, they just… were all friends. It was hard to explain, but no matter how people were mixed and matched at the dinner and lunch table—which had gotten a little crowded with my addition—they always spoke as friends. Openly, friendly, happily.
And worst of all, the same happened to me.
Even if the group I was with consisted of Cir, Cocco and Nazzo, we still talked normally. Scar, Al, Cante, same kind of dynamic. Sure, different people had different friends and enemies—Nazzo and Cir were practically brothers, Scar and Dragon had a mutual, mature respect, Al and Cal couldn’t be alone in the same room—but all and all, everyone likes each other enough to laugh and be friends. I even saw Barbariccia laugh once! He was in the captain’s quarters with Coda late one night, sharing a glass of liquor. They seemed like very old friends, then; and deep down, I hoped that Coda’s inviting me into the crew hadn’t caused any shift in their friendship.
Without any other way to react, I had stalked on by, returning to my post in the drake’s nest.
I found with some degree of horror that aside from Barbariccia, I could talk to all of the pirates. Farello liked to hear my thoughts on the wildlife in purgatory, and how it differed from those on Earth. Cante was childishly excited by the stories I told of my times on different floors in the tutorial, and how the tutorial itself worked. Cane constantly wanted to try sparring, though I far preferred forcing him to fight with his mind, engaging him in logical debates to the delight of all the other younger members. I didn’t get on too well with Scar, Dragon and Cocco, these being the older members who were a part of an older crew before the Evil Claw. From what Scar told me in between puffs of colorful smoke, he, Coda, Dragon, Cocco and Barbariccia used to be fellow members in one of the first pirate crews to sail the black sea. Their captain had been the one who invented Ferriccia, the resin used to make wood resistant to extremely high heat, with the added bonus of ensuring dried tar didn’t stick to it. Unfortunately, due to an issue with the metal they chose to use for the hull, the ship broke and most of the crew died.
The surviving members formed a new crew, calling themselves the ‘Evil Claws.’ Though, once Coda was chosen as captain, he changed it to the ‘Evil Claw’ because it ‘sounded better.’
Ridiculous reason, but they were cool with it, so who am I to judge?
Funnily enough, although the older members were a bit more reserved, they were oftentimes just as interested as the younger members by the hijinks I’d been up to. During some of the nights, when members would take turns to sit on a stool and tell stories to the rest, I was allowed to take my place, and tell my own stories. Not a few gasps were uttered those evenings.
And just like that, a full month passed seamlessly.
“—But I didn’t have to run away all because of that, maybe if I’d just stayed, then…”
I shake my head at Nazzo. “It wasn’t to be. I mean, wasn’t she in love with someone else, too?”
“Yeah!” Nazzo exclaims bitterly. “Some ashy bloke down the road without so much as a roof to house his bumpy head! And all because of that…”
“Look, brother,” Cir says, a frown hiding most of his deformed teeth, “what’s important isn’t why you chose to run away from home.” Nazzo’s ears twitch. “The important thing is that you feel happy where you are.” He smiles. Nazzo reluctantly looks up at him. “Well? Are you?”
Nazzo turns away from him again, but only to hide a small, almost unnoticeable smile. “Yeah,” he says, softly. “I am.”
The admission brings a smile to my lips. “Yeah, I—”
Hell Challenger Lo Fennrick’s debt has concluded.> …Wait, seriously? It took a month?! Why the heck— “Hey, Kitty, are you okay?” Cir asks, snapping me out of it. “You look a bit…” If you find this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the infringement. “Oh, yeah, yeah, I was just…” I gesture at the air. “I got a status message.” Nazzo lights up, quickly swallowing a mouthful of bread. “Whoa, for real?” Dragon, who had quietly been listening until now, shows an expression of pleasant surprise. “Really, now?” Leaning across the table, Nazzo tries to interact with the invisible screen only I can see, pushing his hand through it and making the words briefly intelligible. “Is it here? What does it say?” I read it again. “Remember how I told you I’m indebted to the gods?” Cir, who hadn’t heard me explain this the other day, furrows his brows. “...As we all are?” “No, no, I mean—” Nazzo quickly chimes in with a helpful explanation. “The Gods don’t like him!” Stroking his chin, Cir thinks it over before smirking. “So, the same as the rest of us?” “No, it’s a bit worse, because…” While Nazzo tries to explain the concept of divine debt, a bunch of status messages blot my view.