Somewhere on a ship in the ocean, a little boy with blonde hair was scrubbing the deck so it could be spotless. He couldn’t talk, nor could he really have any free time to himself, but he was content in his simple, dull life. He finished his work and began another square, going bit by bit like he did everyday.

“Oi, Nix! C’mere.”

Nix, yes, that was what they called him. He didn’t pick it, but when he was found hidden in the cargo, the ship captain called him that. He couldn’t write, so he couldn’t tell them that they were wrong. That was okay with him. He was told that as long as he worked well and didn’t mess anything up, he could stay. If he did, he’d get thrown overboard.

He appreciated that they were blunt about that. That’s part of why he liked it as a servant on a ship; Unless they wanted him to do something complicated like tying a specific knot, the orders were simple. He scampered over to the sailor, looking up at him while waiting for the next instructions.

“Start work on the soup, but don’t fill it yet. A’ve got a boat over there, and it’ll be our next target. Stick below deck: You ‘aint intimidating in the slightest, and they might try n’ snag you from us.”

He nodded and went below deck, chopping up a few vegetables to prepare for the soup. He knew that when the yelling was over, or when someone went down to tell him things went well, he could put the water into the soup. Ocean water tasted bad, so usually he’d just filter it with his somewhat weak magic. It was better than nothing, anyways.

He considered things while cutting, making sure that things were even. Whenever he made food good enough, they might praise him. He liked when that happened. He heard the familiar sound of canon fire while he worked on the food, making sure his grip on the knife was steady so he didn’t nick himself when the ship jostled from the crashing waves. He heard the screams as the target ship got raided but didn’t mind. That was just how his crew worked, and it was okay. He didn’t like it, per say, but he knew that the crew got benefits out of it. That’s how they afforded good spices.

Things almost sounded like they were going badly, though. That was new. That was… worrying. He squinted at the little crack in the deck, trying to guess what was going on based on the very limited visuals. Something was happening. He heard yelling about an uncharted island and arguments on who would claim it as their own. Gunfire. Someone screaming about betrayal.

This didn’t seem good, and so, he quietly hid inside a box in the corner, shivering hands holding a knife. He didn’t like this at all, but he was prepared to defend himself. He’d done it before, after all. The screaming went quiet, but he didn’t hear any other footsteps. He just sat there, staring at the door, hoping that someone would come down and say that it’s okay.

But it was quiet. After a while of drifting on the waves, he felt a jostle as the ship went into a dark area. A cove, perhaps? He recognized how the ship wasn’t being moved by ocean waves anymore, and he walked his way up with the kitchen knife in his hand. An empty cove, with an empty ship. Where did everyone go?

He didn’t know. They were gone. He didn’t particularly like the crew - he wasn’t close with any of them - but he liked having the certainty that he would always make the soup, and that there would always be something for him to do. But now there’s nobody to listen to, nobody to tell him the next step or the next task. He didn’t know what to do for a moment.

He got out of the ship and abandoned his knife; He couldn’t swim with it in his hand. He swam in the cove and onto the sand - not too far of a swim - and he stood there on the sand. He glanced back at the empty ship one last time before walking onto the island. It was nice on the island. The sun was warm, and so far, nothing had tried to eat him. That was an upgrade from the last time he was on an island. He wandered for a bit before starting to climb higher up, finding a staircase. That was interesting; He didn’t know mountains could have staircases.

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He walked up innocently, before finding a door. Now, he didn’t know much, but he knew that mountains shouldn’t have doors. This must be someone’s house! He considered what to do. The climb up here was a little hard, and he wouldn’t want to do it again. Knocking might make a mean person come; An island this far out implies that whoever lives here doesn't want visitors. Or maybe they do, and they placed themselves in a bad spot for that. He didn’t know.

After a few more minutes of thinking, he noticed that the door was creaking open. Running away was a bad idea, because he was on a staircase. So, he sorta just stood there and looked up at the man that opened the door.

“...”

Fizz looked at the scrawny child that appeared at the entrance. He was just going to go pick some fruits from the trees on the island so Tido’s crows would stop pestering him, but this was a surprise.

“Hey John?”

Fizz called out into their Not Evil™ lair.

“There’s a kid at the door.”

John started talking as he walked closer, not wasting a second as he heard Fizz’s words.

“We’re miles away from the mainland, what do you mean a kid is at the door-”

John looked at the kid.

“Oh. Uh… Kid, are you… lost...?”

John awkwardly said. The kid shrugged. John looked at the kid and the kid looked at him. Fizz looked between John and the kid. Fizz nudged John in the arm.

“I think the kid can’t talk.”

John looked at Fizz, then at the kid. The kid nodded.

“Oh, why didn’t you sa-...”

John trailed off. Fizz couldn’t help it, and just started snickering. John decided that they should take the kid in - “We’ve got enough money and enough food,” - so they did. Fizz, the force of nature that he was, decided that the very first course of action - after John gave the kid some better, dry clothes and brushed the kid’s hair - was that Fizz would teach the boy how to bake.

Just as night fell, a single lemon meringue pie was created! Fizz grinned and cut the pie up once it was done, serving a slice to the kid. After a bit, Fizz asked.

“Kid, do you have a name?”

The boy shrugged, and Fizz continued.

“How about we call ya’ Lemrio? Y’know, like… Like a lemon meringue pie? That’s easy to remember, eh?”

He considered the new name. It felt better than ‘Nix’ did, and this place seemed nicer. Before he answered though, he took a little bite of the pie. It was glorious, the best thing he’d ever tasted and ever would taste. Fizz noticed the way Lemrio’s eyes lit up, and he smiled while the kid devoured the rest of his slice and then stared at his empty plate like someone took his heart and shattered it.

Fizz snickered, and gave the boy another slice.

“Don’t tell John, but… you can eat the whole pie if you want. You seem like you need some meat on your bones, and although meat n’ bread would work better, methinks you deserve something nicer.”

Lemrio said nothing in response, but finished off his second slice and went to his third. Fizz decided to let the kid be and said that he’d be with Tido and the crows if Lemrio needed him.

This place seemed easier, nicer. Nicer than the ship. He would stay here and be friends with all of the strange people, and things would be okay. Everything would be okay.

Lemrio felt happy, and as he licked the fork he used to eat the pie, he decided that he would bake a lot more. Surely Fizz would teach him more, right? He was excited for when it would happen.