“So, Elena’s your name, then?”
Brown wood served as the building blocks of the ship Elena now found herself sailing in, with only a metallic double door, presumably leading to the living quarters, being an exception. A clean view of the sky was blocked by the gigantic yellow sails, the wind acting as the force pushing the vessel toward its destination. A watchtower was also visible, a few meters away from being tall enough to pierce the sky.
In summary, this ship could be said to be… well, a ship. It had all the elements one’s mind associates with a sailboat from the Golden Age of Piracy from Earth.
A quick look without even moving her feet was enough for Elena, at least for the time being. Right now, there were questions she needed answered.
“Yep, that’s what most people call me,” Elena said. “Anyway, now it’s my turn for questions. Why did you bring me heeeeeere?” Elena’s feet danced, the ship’s tilt nearly breaking her balance. “And where are we goooooing?”
“There’s someone who wants an audience with ya’, and guess what, it’s none other than the Queen herself!” It’d been the blonde woman who’d answered, crossing her arms and resting her body on a nearby mast.
“The queen? The queen of…” Elena attempted to recall the name the old man had said earlier. Once arriving at the answer, her face lit up with pride, like a child remembering an answer to a test. “...Luzterna, wasn’t it?”
Both the woman and Miles reacted with befuddlement. “Huh? Were you hit in the head as a child or just badly educated?” she said, tilting her head while playing with her hair, “Luzterna doesn’t have a queen.”
Realizing her screw-up, Elena quickly brewed an apology. “Erm, forgive me…”
Mommy was the next word that came to mind to complete that sentence. She didn’t know the woman’s name, so her mind defaulted to horny when under pressure from a pretty face, especially one intensely glaring at her with deep, brown eyes.
The sudden staredown gave Elena a chance to take note of the woman’s attire. The lady staring at her with furious red eyes was clad in tall boots and a red jacket, while her head was adorned with a black hat. It was a fair assumption to make she was a pirate just like Miles, although her pristine skin and well-washed golden hair may serve as evidence to the contrary. Then again, Miles also looked squeaky clean, so perhaps people here somehow looked gorgeous despite sailing the open sea and getting into fights to the death. That kind of thing was common in fiction.
“Leila, come on now, cut her a break.” Miles had broken into the conversation, defending Elena from the perils of looking like an idiot. “She’s not even from there.”
“Yes, exactly!” Elena happily accepted the lifeline thrown her way. He’d even said the woman’s name out loud, saving her the trouble of asking that awkward question herself. Double success.
“I’m filing that under badly educated, then.” She grinned for a second, then tilted her head again, seemingly a habit. “Wait, but then what in the world were you doing there?”
Elena morphed into a shower of sweat. “Well, uhmm, you see, I…” Some sort of feasible explanation surely existed, though knowing her, she’d likely end with her foot in her mouth.
“You don’t need to answer,” Miles interrupted. “I understand it’s difficult to talk about such a traumatic situation.” He spoke confidently, seemingly with a better grasp on Elena’s situation than Elena herself.
“But don’t you think it’s weird that her name—”
“Oh hey, the little miss woke up at last!” An orotund voice boomed, loud enough to deafen those standing on land. It came from a burly man, whose physique would put bodybuilders back on Earth to shame. He wore a white shirt, one too small for his size, and facial hair covered his chin. “My name is Bronson. I’m this little dude’s best friend”—he pulled Miles into a hug, to his displeasure— “Nice to meet you. Elena was your name, wasn’t it?” Despite his appearance being that of a brute, he spoke no differently from Miles.
“That is correct. Maria Elena, to be precise, but you can just call me Elena.”
“I like the sound of that!” Bronson said, flexing his bicep while showing his perfectly-white teeth. Who would’ve thought that these pirates also had good dental care?
“Wait a minute, we have a man missing.” Miles aimed his head upward, then fired his voice toward the heavens. “Galen, get down here.”
“I’ll be right there.” The response came from the watchtower, with a disinterested tone of voice.
Miles shook his head, then exchanged glances with Bronson. The latter winked, then called for Galen himself. “Galen, get your ass down here. Like you did last night!”
“Oh fuck you!” Galen exclaimed, then began sliding down the ladder. Miles and Bronson, meanwhile, gave each other a fist bump.
“If I recall correctly, I have told you against saying stuff like that out loud carelessly,” Galen wasted no time and began reprimanding Bronson, despite him being a short, scrawny man whose head barely reached Bronson’s shoulders. “Especially considering we have a new person aboard, the status of our relationship is better kept under a tight lip.”
“Well, you’re not doing a very good job yourself, then,” Leila cut in, then pointed to Elena with her thumb. “She heard everything, dumbass.”
Galen gulped. Begrudgingly, he turned around to meet the new member of the crew. “Uhmm, hello, miss. I know you may be having a misunderstanding right now, but I assure you…”
Galen halted his careful speech mid-sentence. He was drenched in worry, yet he was not being met with the reaction he had in mind. Elena’s knees were shaking, which then gave way to small hops in place. Her face had a goofy grin, and her nose exhaled so quickly it seemed steam would begin pouring out any second.
“Miss, are you alri—”
Before he could even finish, Elena had leaped forward in the blink of an eye, gripping his hands and raising his arms upward. “You two are a thing?”
Galen began stuttering incoherently, so after a small chortle it’d be Bronson who’d respond. “Yes, for a couple of years now. That’s the reason he joined us, in fact.”
Elena released Galen’s arms and began rubbing the palms of her hands together, sporting a diabolical grin. Her breath had accelerated even further, near the point of hyperventilating.
A BL story out in the seas. Oh, be still, my fainting heart.
Whether it was Earth or this new, fantasy world, nothing could slow down the brain of a fujoshi given steam. The little time she’d spent interacting with the duo proved enough for dozens of scenarios to run through her head. The height difference alone was tantalizing— surely, on cold nights, Bronson serves as the big spoon, and…
On second thought, better save the thought for later. For when she can be horny without inviting weird looks. The kind of look the two of them were giving her at that very moment, for example.
Besides, even the not-rotten side of her brain had reasons to find this development a positive one. She wasn’t sure what was this world’s view on gay people, and considering Galen’s behavior earlier, odds were they weren’t very positive. In any case, considering Miles and Bronson were friends, it seems among the members of this pirate crew at least homophobia was not a thing. A relief, to be sure, especially since she herself wasn’t exactly the straightest stick around.
“But,” Galen suddenly yelled, before lowering his voice back to normal, “whatever image you have of me is sorely mistaken. I am in fact the son of a family of merchants, and I’ll let you know…”
“Go on, bottom,” Bronson murmured to himself.
“Excuse me?” Galen turned his head sharply toward Bronson. “I don’t recall ever saying I’m that.”
“I don’t recall you saying you’re not…”
“Oh you little…”
Galen began flailing his fist at Bronson, with little effectiveness. Elena meanwhile simply observed the sexual tension silently and from a distance, frothing at the mouth.
Much as she wished to enjoy it for longer, there was something that piqued her attention. She glanced around, then spotted them. Miles and Leila had apparently snuck out of the group, and were having a private conversation. Well, calling it a conversation might be inaccurate: Miles had his arms crossed, looking away, while Leila talked to his profile. From her body language, it appeared she was scolding him, her glare so stern it could bring children to tears.
“Did Miles do something wrong? I thought he was the captain here,” Elena asked.
The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.
“He is,” Bronson answered, “but she’s the oldest here, so she acts as our mom sometimes.”
“Ah, I see.” She acted as Team Mom, then. Maybe calling her mommy earlier wouldn’t have been so out of place. Then again, it would’ve been cringe, so maybe not.
So, in summary, through luck and… more luck, she managed to land herself a spot among a crew of pirates, consisting of a handsome rogue, a tall and beefy hunk, an older yet still sexy pirate lady, and a pathetic twink.
Maybe her stay in this new world wouldn’t be so bad.
----------------------------------------
“Here’s your room. Or rather, our room. We’re sharing. Lucky me.”
Faster than Leila could finish her words, Elena had lunged toward her new bed, her back crash-landing on the mattress like a meteorite strikes a planet. Her body wasted no second making itself at home. “Ohhhh, it’s so comfy.”
“You better not fall asleep. Not with how much you slept earlier today. I still gotta show you the bathroom.”
“Oh that’d be quite nice. I gotta get rid of the stench of the alleyway. Could you come back in five minutes? I don’t think Mr Bed wants to say goodbye quite yet.”
“Get up. Now,” Leila coldly ordered, then struck the wall with her arm.
“Yes, mommy!” Elena uttered brainlessly, as she got up.
“Mommy? Ugh, what’s wrong with you young people? Anyway, follow me.”
The two walked down a hallway. The brown walls were devoid of much decoration, only the occasional candle to light up the way. Eventually, they reached the end, where two doors were found.
“Here we go, here’s the bathroom. Don’t go making too much noise. The captain sleeps in the other room.”
“Got it. Now excuse me, I think I’ll take a shower.”
“Roger. Everything you need for that should be in there. See ya.”
Elena waved her hand, then turned to open the door. As her fingers came in contact with the doorknob, she came upon a silly yet harrowing realization.
I’ll take a shower, she’d said so casually. Only just now had she considered the possibility of this bathroom being nothing like she was used to. This was, after all, a medieval world. Medieval people weren’t exactly known for their amazing hygiene. A modern shower would be unthinkable.
“I don’t actually smell that bad, do I?” she thought out loud. She smelled her armpit sneakily, before coming to her senses. “I’m just second-guessing myself for no reason. If I’m gonna live here, I need to get used to stuff like this.” She let a long breath fill her nostrils, then opened the door.
“Oh, thank heavens.” To her pleasure and surprise, the bathroom looked ripped out of the modern world. A modern-looking toilet with toilet paper, a modern sink in front of it, and last but certainly not least, a modern shower faucet. It even had knobs to regulate the water’s heat!
Her worries put to rest, she quickly removed her dress. She didn’t really have any other clothes, and at least to the eye they seemed clean enough for reuse, so it’d probably be fine to put them on again. She couldn’t find a place to hang them, so she just left it on top of the toilet cover, then did the same with her underwear, which was a provocative pink. She then made her way into the shower, turning the left knob.
“Ahhh, I’m in heaven!” The burning heat of the water assaulted Elena’s body mercilessly, flowing down with the strength of a river. She didn’t mind, however, for she was used to burning hot showers— in fact, she found them relaxing, the steam erasing the problems hounding her mind.
Of course, this was not an excuse for dillydallying. Last thing she wanted was for the hot water to vanish and to be turned into an ice cube. She didn’t know how water was heated, but she’d rather not find out, so she began washing her body with the nearby soap. Waste too much time, and she’d land in hot water—or cold, in this case.
Despite her concern, a shower is a shower, and humans can’t avoid their natural instincts. Her mind began wandering off, although for once her shower thoughts were not totally useless. The warmth of the water released her of stress, and gave her a space to truly reflect on all the craziness that’d transpired today.
“Not only did I get Isekai’d, but managed to end up surrounded by a bunch of lookers, ” she spoke to the showerhead, as if it was her psychologist. “But this world is a bit strange. On the one hand, it’s the most generic Isekai world I’ve ever seen...”
But at the same time, it’s got a bunch of modern conveniences, such as the very bathroom she found herself in. People’s names also appeared devoid of any kind of pattern; first she got told her name was weird, then the next moment she was met with others just as Spanish-sounding as hers. Yet, there were also English names such as Miles, so who knew?
“...”
As she drove her hand to her belly in order to wash it, she also brought one more oddity to mind.
That rumble in the alley, led to her getting shot. It all happened so quickly it was hard to adequately picture the scene in the moment, yet it all made sense when thought about retroactively.
All except for the fact she was alive.
She felt the water touch her skin, the sound of it colliding with the floor, its blue hue rushing downward. This all told her this was no dream. She was undeniably alive.
And yet, that hard fact contradicted the vicious feelings she’d felt before. Of her body parting with her soul. Of writhing in agony. Of her life flashing through her eyes, just to remind her of what she was about to lose.
Death. It was a mixture of many colors of pain that all came together to form a picture that carried the name of death.
She could say for certain she’d experienced death. Her conclusion had to be correct, for she, and only she, had prior experience with the phenomenon referred to as death. Hence, she could tell it apart from something more mundane like passing out.
“Perhaps… I’m somehow… immune to death?”
It would explain why Miles found no wound on her body, and why she felt so healthy despite taking such a blow. It was usual in Isekai stories for the otherworlder to carry some sort of ability or superpower. Perhaps she’d been blessed like that? In fact, she remembers hearing about an Anime where a dude gets an ability that lets him cheat death.
She sighed. “Now I wish I’d checked it out when that guy recommended it to me. I’m sure I could learn a thing or two.” She couldn’t come up with ways to abuse this ability, although some opportunity to do so would undoubtedly show up sooner or later.
Regardless, if her suspicions were to prove true, this supposed skill would aid her tremendously. Not that she planned to die again anytime soon, but in a fantasy world inhabited by god-knows-what, something like this was always a boon.
Anyway, I better finish cleaning myself
She continued spreading soap all across herself. Despite being covered in foam, it was impossible to not take notice of her body. It was strange to feel envious of the body one inhabits, yet that was the situation she found herself in. Were she to witness this naked body in front of her, she’d no doubt react with lust at the presence of such a beautiful woman, yet this body now belonged to her.
Back on Earth, she and beauty went together like salt and water. Yet there she was, wearing skin the likes of which she could only dream of. Guilt ran through her, realizing she’d stolen this peerless body from its original owner. Worse of all, there was a high chance she’d straight up killed her. Usually in these types of stories, the reincarnated female lead would receive at least part of the original character’s memories. But no matter how hard she strained her brain, she couldn’t remember anything that wasn’t proper of her.
“All this thinking is making me anxious. I better get off the water.”
She did just that, turning the knobs to stop the water from running pointlessly, then grabbed a nearby towel.
“Ave María!” she began singing. She wasn’t one to sing during the shower for whatever reason. Instead, she preferred to save singing for drying time. Thus, as she spread the towel across her body, she happily carried on chanting, “cuando serás mía…”
All this time, she’d been speaking English effortlessly. She was bilingual, so it came naturally to her. But when it came to singing without putting much brainpower into it, her native Spanish was what came out.
However, a seemingly innocuous lyric would prove disastrous.
Her tongue froze, unable to continue speaking. The white walls of the bathroom lost their shine, replaced instead with a deep black tinge. In fact, there were no longer walls. Only a seemingly endless darkness, surrounding her in every direction.
Elena could tell her body was moving. Yet she remained static; her soul remained fixed in place. Every action her body was undertaking was beyond her control. There were no brakes, no word she could shout. She was moving somewhere, and she could no more than wait. Wait for a chance to regain control…
…and that happened soon.
At a moment’s notice, color returned to the world. Namely, she was now surrounded by the brown of noble wood. Not much of an improvement in terms of aesthetics, but it felt tangible, unlike that indescribable darkness from before.
But the hallway’s walls weren’t the only thing surrounding her. As she attempted to move her body, she realized she was being held, her back subjected to the gentle touch of warm hands, while her head rested on someone’s chest.
She stared upward, and once again found herself entranced by Miles’ golden eyes. She had no desire to question how she got into this situation—she simply took a break from thinking, basking in the light of his eyes for a pair of seconds she enjoyed like they were minutes.
Her surroundings, her worries, they were all whisked away. Only her current view mattered. Nothing more.
And then, reality manifested itself, and she noticed something a little important—she was still naked.
“Unhand me, pervert!” she cried out, instinctively.
Miles defended himself. “W—what? You’re the one who randomly approached me while naked. If anyone’s the pervert, it’s you!” He stared furiously into her eyes; he seemed to be trying real hard to focus on her face, however his eyes on occasion turned against him, aiming themselves toward her body.
“Oh,” she said. She began contemplating how this could be with a bite of her lip, before deciding to discard that thought. It was better to worry about the why later. Instead, it’d be better to make use of this sudden opportunity brought before her lap. “Were we… uhmm, planning on doing something. You know, just asking.”
Miles grimaced. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, or why you’re just walking naked down the hall.”
“But do you dislike it if I walk around naked?” Elena asked, wearing a sleazy grin.
“Wh—what? What kind… of question… is that?” Miles’ face became red like an apple. He attempted to hide his embarrassment by looking away, yet he couldn’t muster the strength needed to prevent his eyes from casting her the occasional glance at her naked body.
“Well, that’s for you to answer.” She placed her hand on his shoulder and caressed her own lips with her index finger, now staring at him with eyes that made no effort to hide their thirst.
“I DON’T KNOW WHAT YOU’RE TALKING ABOUT!”
Following his childish yell, Miles shook off Elena’s grip and dashed across the hallway, heading out of the living quarters and toward the ship’s bow.
“Well, that’s somehow not the worst attempt at flirting I’ve had,” Elena said, throwing some shade at herself. Of course, she wasn’t usually naked for those, so I guess that helped this time. Then again, Miles seemed pretty uneasy, so maybe not.
In any case, it was a good idea to check on him.
“I better get dressed first. Can’t chance him jumping off the boat.”