Crozier watched the kid run about the deck, grabbing a harness and a steel scraper before tying some rope to the guardrails, preparing to lower himself down and start working the barnacles off the bow of his ship, 'The Spray'.

Crozier had asked the runt to scrape barnacles from the ship while they were still loading for the journey, kid was lucky he got here today as they were due to set sail first thing tomorrow, or as soon as their huntsmen escort finally showed up. Crozier remembered the conversation, the kid told him he couldn't swim, unsurprising for a homeless orphan.

Crozier told him to tie a decent knot then, to his credit, the runt didn't flinch, merely walked off to find a rope and something sharp to lever barnacles off. He'd been going at it for 5 hours now, non-stop and without rest in the harsh Vacuo sun. Crozier had asked some of his more alert crew to keep an eye on the runt, make sure he didn't drown, couldn't let him off that easy. The rest of the crew was moving about the deck, undergoing the strict checks Crozier required for take-off.

Apparently, they'd taken bets on when the kid would give up, scraping barnacles was a tough, demanding and disheartening job given only as punishment to disobeying crew members. Whatever time they bet, Crozier was certain they'd all lost, he'd have put money on two hours himself, and that was being generous.

The street rat was stubborn if nothing else.

Crozier narrowed his eye as he double checked the cargo manifest, the runts true test would come tomorrow morning, with the anchor pull.

The Spray was not a small ship, though not as large as some of the cargo freighters. It was a medium sized transport ship, weighed down by the heavy treated-steel plate required to traverse the Grimm infested seas between civilisation. It required a crew of 20, Crozier had 25 to account for any losses.

All this to say it required a heavy anchor, and unfortunately lacked a motorized anchor pull. And with the dock overstuffed due to a recent leviathan sighting closing the trade route between Vacuo and menagerie, the Spray had to anchor offshore and transport cargo via small motorboats Crozier rented from the city.

So, before they took off, they would need to pull all eighty meters of heavy, reinforced anchor chain back onto the ship, a gruelling process that usually took at least 3 men, and traditionally started by whoever was the newest crewman, or in this case, Cade.

He was a damn rude runt, and Crozier wouldn't put up with any further insubordination on his ship, least of all by some small angry animal foisted upon him by his uncaring family. It would serve the rat well to learn some humility, and the anchor pull was nothing if not humbling.

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Cade jammed the flat metal sheet between the lip of the barnacle and the ship, briefly blinking the salty water from his eyes as another wave jostled him. Damn ocean, was nothing in this shithole of a country pleasant? He wiped his eyes with the back of his hand, merely spreading more saltwater and levered the crustacean off, exposing the stained steel of the ship.

That old fart, Crozier had been determined to get the absolute maximum amount of work out of Cade, an attitude he could respect. The old man had a far better understanding of the world than his dumb nephew. So far, he'd had Cade scrape barnacles, scrub the deck, repaint the guardrails, clean every window and lubricate the gun platforms, which was the closest thing to fun Cade had experienced so far, the guns on this ship were wicked. When the sailors saw his enthusiasm, they were quick to shut him down, explaining only those trained and ticketed were allowed to fire the artillery pieces, a frequent occurrence when your ocean was near bursting with man-eating monsters who hate you.

He wasn't feeling too rested either, due to a tense night under the deck on a spare bunk, Cade had never slept on anything so… soft. Even the orphanage bunks were little more than a blanket over wood, compared to that, the ship bunks were downright tender. But Cade found his body refused to sleep on them, he'd ended up sleeping on the floor nearby after waiting for a few hours to ensure everyone else was asleep, it was immensely uncomfortable for Cade to sleep in such close proximity to other people, especially after the damn orphanage.

Croz-… The Captain, had sent him back to the barnacles come morning, with a promise of a 'more fulfilling' job later. Cade wasn't sure what he had planned but compared to fighting off knife wielding maniacs for an empty wallet, this was downright relaxed, if way less exciting.

He'd even got food in the morning, Cade couldn't remember the last time he'd had fresh beef, or if he ever had.

"Runt, get up here, we're taking off."

Cade recognized the captains signature growl and started pulling himself up the rope, taking care not to let any barnacles touch his bare skin, damn things were sharper than they looked, as the red lines along his arms could attest.

Once he pulled himself over the guardrails and untied himself, he was greeted with the entire crew, and two colourful armed individuals. Much like the rest of remnant, Cade could recognize a huntsman when he saw one, their expensive clothes and cutting edge mecha-shift weapons were a dead giveaway. The captain beckoned him over to a large chain leading into the ocean, the anchor if Cade had to guess. And guessing he was, unsurprisingly the naval education for homeless orphans was… lacking. Once he lined up with the rest, Captain Crozier spoke, his gravely tone easily heard over the waves lapping the bow.

"As most of you are aware, we've got a tradition on this ship. For their first take-off, it's up to the new members of the crew to pull the anchor." The old man gestured to the thick chains next to him, the crew all gazing at it with a similar look of scorn.

"And we've only one new crew member for this one, ain't that right, runt?" Crozier said, a mocking smile on his gnarled face as he looked at Cade, who stood with his slightly bloody arms crossed.

"I'm surprised you can count that high, old man." Cade spoke, matching the captains mocking tone to the shock of the crew, and amusement of the hunter duo.

If Crozier was offended by Cade's jab, he didn't show it, merely stepping aside and gesturing to the chain.

"Get started runt."

Cade spat on the ground as he walked up, conscious of the mass of people watching his every move, he felt the hair on the back of his neck stand up with their gazes, he didn't think he'd ever be used to being around this many people.

Reaching the chain, Cade knelt down and grabbed a hold, frowning.

Cade was aware he was significantly larger than most his age, he towered over the other orphans and could even blend in with an adult crowd if he covered his face. His stature had allowed him to fend off kids and even adults far older than himself, but when he couldn't even wrap his hands around the chain of the anchor, he knew this wasn't going to be easy.

Repositioning his hands for a better grip, not easy with them slick by blood from his stinging barnacle cuts, he heaved the chain up, allowing him to stand with the considerable weight of the chain. He heard a few impressed whistles from the crowd, and the familiar bark of Crozier.

"You want me to tell you which end to pull up, runt?"

Cade grunted, straining with the weight.

"Shut... up… old… ass." Admittedly not his finest work, but Cade was somewhat preoccupied. With agonising slowness, he released one hand and nearly dropped the chain, holding the full weight with his left arm. Quickly, he grabbed the next link and pulled.

Sailors jeered as the chain refused to budge, and Cade heard heavy footsteps approach him, it was one of the huntsmen, a large man in a glaringly green outfit.

"You know, I guess I'm technically new too, you want a hand kid?" He said in a deep baritone, reaching for the chain. Cade released the hand pulling to briefly slap away the reaching arm.

"Fuck… off… If I want your help… I'll ask." He gasped out between breathes, after an amused huff, the human huntsman acquiesced, backing off and walking to the crowd, Cade heard the other huntsman laugh and say something, but couldn't concentrate enough to pick it up.

Cade grabbed the chain once more, took three quick breathes, channelled all his considerable hate for the world into his arms, and PULLED. He dug is feet into the wooden boards of the deck, curling his toes as every muscle in his body strained and locked up, he tried to crush the chain with his grip when he started feeling it slip.

The sailors jeered once more at his waster effort, Cade heard the old man sigh and a start telling the sailors to get off their asses and give the kid a hand, when the chain moved.

Slowly, glacially, Cade pulled the chain toward him, grabbing the next link with shaking, straining hands as his vision was reduced to a pinprick. He saw only the chain.

Sailors cheered around him as Cade slowly pulled the chain in, but he didn't hear them, he barely even saw the chain, so focused was he on the action of pulling. His arms screamed at him, his legs shouted, and his chest cried out, but Cade told them to shut the fuck up and pulled. He knew his body, he knew its limits and how far past them he could push. His body may have wanted to quit a few minutes ago, but Cade knew he could squeeze more out of it, he always could.

So, he kept pulling.

And pulling.

At some point the sailors finally shut up, and a few times someone put an arm on his shoulder or the chain, but Cade told them with his usual kind works to leave, and kept pulling.

Cade wasn't sure when he finally got the anchor aboard, but right when the chain felt the heaviest it ever was, and his arms were shaking so hard he struggled to wrap his hands around the iron links, suddenly the large, curved metal construct was next to him. Cade stared at it, dumbfounded for a moment as the chain slipped from his shivering fingers, then spat some blood from his mouth, must've bit his cheek at some point.

He didn't trust his voice, so instead of talking he turned around to a silent and wide-eyed audience, glaring each and every one of them as he his abused body gasped for breath, finishing with Crozier, who watched Cade with wide eyes.

The crowd of sailors remained blessedly silent.

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Crozier double checked their current heading, taking a short moment to curse the confusing nature of dust while he was at it. A familiar ritual for all captains and navigators, none of them had gotten over the failed Atlas space program, having been promised such amazing technology as a global positioning system and world -wide CCT coverage, it was to be humanities greatest achievement since the utilisation of aura. But dust didn't get the memo, choosing to become inert the moment it left Remnant's atmosphere.

Crozier grunted as he rose up from the mess of dials that dotted the bridge room, watching the… runt… run about below him on the deck, assisting sailors who greeted the kid with a respectful nod or friendly jostle, to which the runt responded quite violently.

They had been travelling for just under a month now, and the anchor pull at Vacuo was still on Crozier's mind, probably still on everyone's mind, except the runt's.

Unless it was edible, the kid didn't give much of anything a thought.

The anchor pull was a humbling experience, meant to bond new sailors together through a shared misery or teach the more arrogant men that some jobs should not be done alone. Cade had bull-rushed through it with a stubbornness Crozier was quickly realising practically defined the violent child. He'd been surprised when the boy even managed to lift the chain off the deck, as had the men.

By lifting that chain, Cade had won the begrudging consideration of the crew.

Managing to single-handedly pull several links of chain aboard, had won him their respect.

But watching that boy strain against the chain, painstakingly drag link after link with everything his abused body had, for 20 long and painful minutes? All while snarling incomprehensibly slurred insults to anyone who tried to help him?

That won him something else, something Crozier couldn't identify. And as much as he wanted to deny it, Crozier had been… impressed. No, he had been dumbfounded. Crozier had not been expecting to witness what was possibly the greatest, superhuman feat of sheer willpower he'd ever seen on a Sunday morning, from some random faunus orphan.

That child could barely even lift the chain for gods sake, pulling that first link had clearly taken everything he had. And impossibly, so had every link after that, Crozier had watched a child not even a decade old operate at the absolute peak of what his body was capable of, for an excruciating twenty goddamn minutes. That twenty minutes felt like a lifetime to him, he couldn't imagine what it felt like to the runt.

Crozier had seen some grown men fail to lift that chain. Though it wasn't the surprising strength that impressed him, it was the runt's sheer persistence at what should have been an impossible task.

He told the kid to take the day off after that, lest the idiot drop dead from exhaustion. Crozier had been treated to the runt's ever expansive vocabulary of insults and curses for daring suggests such a thing of course, and so he watched the child stumble through his full shift, assisting the concerned sailors with their tasks for the entire day.

Crozier had made sure the kid got extra servings at every meal, it grated on him to reward insubordination and reckless abandon, but he figured the runt had earned at least that.

Crozier made it a point to join his sailors for every dinner and breakfast, it was a good way for him to keep track of which sailor was exhausted or struggling and make sure only the most well rested and alert sailors were on gunnery duty. Even with two huntsmen on board, one could never underestimate the great enemy. Least of all when you were hundreds of miles away from any possible assistance or proper medical help.

If you spot this story on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

It was due to this dining habit, that Crozier got to watch the runt damn near stab anyone who so much as looked at his food. Hoggins, one of his less perceptive men nearly lost a finger when he reached over the runt's plate for the barbeque sauce, thank Gods the runt only had a butter knife and not one of the steak knives. Not that Crozier thought the dullness of the blade would stop the runt back for long.

He remembered how the kid had hunched over his gathered food, one arm protectively wrapped around the plate to hide its contents from view as he shovelled food down his gullet with terrifying speed, not even pausing to look at what he was eating, dark malevolent eyes barely visible under a curtain of dirty black hair, glaring at any sailor who had the gall to exist nearby. Needless to say, the runt was protective of his food. An attitude Crozier could understand given his background, though he still explained to the runt in no uncertain terms that his crew would not be maimed, the runt had the nerve to look genuinely confused by that conversation.

That had been a dinner of surprises, not least of which was the brats age. Eight goddamn years old, give or take a couple months, Crozier could see it in the brat's face, which retained whatever baby fat could remain through his short few years of hard living. But good gods the runt was huge for his age, both vertically and laterally. Crozier guessed he was around 5'5 with a stocky, strong build, if lacking the musculature that comes with age. No doubt he was used to throwing his weight around the other kids. Crozier didn't know how the runt managed to feed that frame on a street rat diet.

However, the runt had been on relatively good behaviour for the past month, keeping to his word on his work ethic, even if his temperament left much to be desired.

As if summoned by mere thought of him, said runt kicked his door open and regarded Crozier's decorated bridge with an unimpressed scan of his dark eyes, eyes Crozier belatedly noticed were a very dark red, almost maroon.

"Oi, old ma-… Captain, Deckard wanted to know if you'd had a look at the engine room yet? Apparently an 'Alternator' is fucked, which I'm told is important."

Crozier sighed, that would explain why half the instruments in his bridge weren't turning on. At least the gun platforms had a backup analog function, the same could not be said for damn near everything else on the ship. Crozier missed when the only powered thing on a ship was its propeller.

"It is important runt." Crozier said, storming out the door as the child dodged to the side, following him with a shrug.

This would delay them at least a full day, maybe more. But, Crozier saw that it was an unusually calm day on the sea, a good chance for a swim day, let the men unwind while Crozier and his engineer patched the engine.

"Say brat, you never learned to swim, right?"

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Cade shivered in the sea breeze as he pulled himself up the ladder, sailors quietly muttering behind him as he went.

Cade wasn't a dumb, he knew that being able to swim was a core skill, and would likely save his life in the future, but damn was it… off putting. Awkwardly flailing about in dark, murky water so unfathomably deep he couldn't hope to see the bottom, just a yawning abyss quite literally full of monsters.

The old man had said this was a high traffic route that was regularly cleared of grimm, and he'd put the contracted huntsman to sentry duty just in case, but for a young orphan raised on cautionary tales of dark monsters, it was… nerve wracking.

Whatever, he'd done it, he could swim. Hopefully he'd never have to do it again.

Abruptly, a hand was extended in front of him, attached to the male huntsman in green. Cade had been watching him and his partner closely over the past month, they were dangerous. Despite the propaganda about huntsmen always being nearby, they were a rare sight in Vacuo, and rarer in the slums. So Cade was entirely unused to being near someone who could so effortlessly kill him, and Cade wouldn't even leave a scratch to remember him by. He'd had seen this huntsman moving large crates with concerning ease that otherwise took three burly sailors to budge.

Not to mention his fancy 'Aura' the hunter had shown off during last nights dinner, he'd invited a sailor, Benny, Cade thought his name was, to stab him as hard as the sailor could. Cade watched with undisguised interest as the knife harmlessly scraped off the larger man's arm, the limb briefly glowing with a dim light. He'd explained it was a barrier powered by his soul.

Meaning Cade was less than an insect compared to the man, which grated on the young orphan like nothing else. The huntsman or his partner could snap him in half in less than a fucking second.

But everyone had a weakness, everyone.

Could chemicals pass through the barrier? Cade had seen some other street rats use acid to great effect on each other, how about gases? Stunning with bright lights? Did he need to anticipate the attack?

Does the barrier extend to the inside of their mouths? Cade reckoned he could lever a knife up there, then it'd be a straight shoot to their brain or spine.

All questions circling Cade's mind as he took the huntsman's hand with a grunt, the man effortlessly lifted Cade back onto the ship, again reminding him of his weakness compared to this man.

"You picked up swimming pretty quick kid, that was some fine water treading." He spoke in his baritone, good natured voice. Cade shook the water from his hair and took some joy in how the hunter flinched away from the impressive spray of cold water, patronizing asshole.

"It was sink or swim, grass ass." Cade muttered, the hunter chuckling at what he called Cade's 'cute nickname' for him. Cade hoped he would take a hint and swap to some pants that weren't an eye-watering neon green, disgusting.

Cade also noted how the huntsman met his eyes with ease, unlike the sailors frolicking around the water behind him. When he'd first taken off his shirt, a lot of the sailors didn't seem to know how to react to his chest and the multitude of scars decorating it. Old cuts, burns, punctures and the rare gunshot wound layered his body. A concerning number of people possessed firearms in Vacuo, and it was hard to guess an unarmed tourist from a packing marksman.

Cade would be first to admit his general attitude toward life and other people probably wasn't conducive to 'safe' living, especially in the slums where so much as a glance at the wrong person could get you gutted. But Cade would be a cold dead corpse in the ground before he caved to the pandering masses. He was who he was, let the world deal with it.

His body was a monument to all he had survived, all the assholes who couldn't take him down and all the struggles he conquered. So, when Grass Ass with the terrible fashion choices saw them without flinching, he may have won a point or two in his favour.

Still didn't offset the points he lost for those fucking atrocious slacks.

To the Captain's credit, he didn't balk either, instead telling Cade maybe he should stop attempting to provoke everyone he met.

"Still, impressive nonetheless. Were ya' worried about any Grimm getting you?" Grass Ass joked, tossing Cade a ratty towel and leaning back on the railing, always keeping an eye on the water.

"I don't 'worry', but if I did it'd only be because you suck at your job." Cade sniped, pulling his shirt back over his head.

"Ouch, how can I suck if nobody's been eaten yet?" The huntsman replied, Cade could acknowledge they had been lucky so far in the trip. Not a single actual Grimm attack, just a few small nevermore flocks that were quickly shot down.

"You just look like someone who's shit at everything they do."

"Hmm, you know… You're surprisingly well spoken for a street rat." Grass remarked, pulling a cigarette out from his jacket pocket, taking a moment to search each of his pockets for a lighter.

"I read." Cade said shortly.

Reading was… important to Cade. When he was younger, in that fuckin 'orphanage', they had something called the 'Read room', it was one of the only places the matron or her 'helpers' didn't prowl about. And if she saw you actually reading in the room, she would generally leave you alone after quizzing you on the book. Which was a delightful rarity for any faunus unfortunate enough to grow up in that shithole. When Cade found this out, he threw everything he had into their half-hearted education, using what he learned to hide in the read room.

When he got proper lost in a good book, he could forget about it all for a bit, pretend he wasn't just another abandoned animal.

"Oh cool, I've been getting way into the Architect series lately, what've you been reading?"

Cade thought about Ninja's of Love part 3 and it's… colourful descriptions, probably slowy rotting away in his shitty garden shed by now.

"…Books."

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"Keep fidgeting with it runt, and you'll scare off the damn fish."

Cade growled as he refrained from reeling his line back to check his bait, he just knew some smug fucking fish had already taken it, and now he was sitting here with an empty hook in the water, like a dumbass. He glared at the captain beside him, he didn't know how, but it was probably his fault. Most annoying things on this ship could be traced back to the cyclops beside him.

"Mean mugging me won't catch you any fish, runt." Captain Crozier remarked, watching the calm seas with a practiced squint, taking a long slow drag of his cigarette, making sure to 'accidently' blow it in Cade's face.

"I can't wait till your lungs give out."

It was Cade's second month on the sea, and they were currently docked in Strung, a small trading station roughly two thirds of the way to Vale. Cade had been helping move crates when the Captain pulled him aside, holding two fishing rods with a scowl.

At dinner the night before, the entire boat had been shocked when Cade admitted he'd never eaten fish before, or even gone fishing. Cade thought they were all mentally slow to think it surprising a destitute street rat hadn't had the time for a fishing trip. However, they'd all been surprised when the captain abruptly declared it a travesty that a Vacuo native didn't know how to fish, and told Cade in no uncertain terms the two of them would be fishing the following morning.

Which led to Cade's current situation, his empty bucket next to the captains obnoxiously full one. At least it gave Cade a chance to rest his hands, he'd tore a callus two days ago and it was still bleeding like a bitch.

A sailor walked past with a bundle of rope, chuckling at the two until three glowering eyes silenced him. Cade turned back to his annoyingly still rod, dumb fish.

"You've held to your word so far, runt."

Cade turned to the captain, confused by the strange tone in the old man's voice, thankfully he was on the eye-patch side of the old sailor, so he didn't have to pretend to be interested.

"Be more specific old fart. I've said a lot of words."

"You know what I'm talking about rat." Cade looked at the water, not regarding the old man's words with anything more than a grunt of acknowledgment.

The two sat in silence for a while, only interrupted when the old man reeled in yet another fish, bastard didn't even take it, just tossed it back in. Cade spat in disgust at the ocean for denying him a victory over the bastard next to him.

"You're terrible at this." The old bastard remarked, making an observation that didn't need to be vocalised. Cade considered strangling the fucker with his own fishing line, unfortunately he still needed to get to Vale.

"And you're thankfully going to die of old age any day now." Cade replied, reeling his line back in to check the hook, finally giving in to the temptation. Empty, go figure.

"Hmm. What are your plans when we get to Vale?" The captain asked, lone eye not leaving the water. Cade thought about it for a minute, he wasn't sure why he was so fixated on Vale anymore. At the time it had been a spur of the moment decision, but they'd passed more than a few ports he could have easily slipped away into, safely distant from Tyson and his goons.

"Buy a nice three bedroom, maybe rent out a room while I get my fucking degree." Cade sarcastically drawled; the fuck did the old man think he was going to do?

Further thought on his lack of plans were halted when the Captain handed him a note with a phone number and address scrawled across it, at Cade's questioning look he explained.

"An old colleague of mine runs a gym in Vale, if you're willing to work, he'll willing to pay. It ain't gonna be much, probably next to nothing to be honest." Cade frowned at this.

"You pitying me old man? You think I'm some helpless fuckin toddler? I don't need your damn handouts." Cade growled, seconds from throwing the scrap of paper into the ocean with all the annoyingly selective fish.

"It isn't charity you dumb little runt, it's a job. You're a goddamn thieving little shit-stain who sleeps in gutters, so I'll excuse your lack of basic knowledge. It's called networking, and it's how everyone on the damn planet gets a paying job." The captain snarled right back, Cade somehow resisted the urge to push the old man into the ocean.

"Fuck, I'll hold onto it. But I ain't promising anything." He muttered, stuffing the note in his pocket as he turned back to the water.

"Neither am I, there's a good chance he'll strangle you to death once he realises how damn annoying you are."

The two sat there for a few more hours, the captain occasionally giving Cade unwanted 'advice' on his casting technique, and Cade telling him where to put that advice, he even let Cade try a cigarette which was terrible. It was a rare moment of calm for the faunus, who was unused to sitting in one place for so long when he wasn't dying of something. He wondered if this was what other kids got to experience every day, it was pretty boring.

But he didn't hate it.

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