Natural Enemy 1-8

The drama didn’t stop there, that same night in front of the healing hut.

Because why would it?

Why would things ever be that easy?

The chill life was harder to hold onto, because the world didn’t like chill and didn’t like people being chill. It was somehow in the rules of every world, not just his own; commandments from God written in invisible ink on the back of every sunny day. 

And apparently rule number one is: if you’re happy, someone is coming to fix that real soon. And if you build a sandcastle, their foot is on a direct path to kick it right in your face.

Kai let out a sigh as he walked across the white sands of Kaihua’s main beach, the quiet voices of the village still going a month strong. The same stories from different people, slipping through the village and the other smaller side villages on the island. All of them were part of the same community but the ones who hadn’t been there that night kept it going; each new mouth spreading twisted whispers, remixed rumors and old retellings through the air like smoke from the evening bonfires.

‘Did you hear?’

‘A fishing boat from Makani. ‘

‘Yeah, they found it floating empty.’

‘Nets cut.’

‘The island a day’s sail away?’

‘Yeah, picked clean.’

People were still talking now, weeks later, the whispers passing back and forth with each new face that made their way to the main village to ask questions and trade rumors. The Great Wave was coming up again, the surfing competition held every six to nine months where the waves were as tall and powerful as they could get on a perfect sunny day, and with it, came new people.

Tourists, travelers and lingerers from other parts of the islands looking to get in on the fun and trade stories and tales. Those same tales also came with new words, words he thought he heard wrong because no way, right? It almost had to be him, because the idea that people would go around with names like that, names that felt like bad jokes? The Barrel Scrapers. The Crusty Crew. Barnacle Bill and the Barley Boys. 

If people had said them with a smile on their face or anything to make him feel like it wasn’t all that serious, Kai might have laughed too.

But the way the old fishermen said them, and the way the chief grit his teeth everytime the names came up, they didn’t sound all that funny. 

Pirates.

He fumbled with his gloves, the black leather things he’d gotten from Auntie Loa tight around his fat fingers. Everything was a bit tighter now, from his cut-off jean shorts to the black leather vest he wore without a shirt. It’s what I get for almost two years of stuffing my face. The thought came with a shrug, Kai trying to keep as unbothered and chill as he could with his mind on something else. 

But his ears were open as ever, the water boy istening to every hushed word the new people let slip in the heart of Kaihua. The island part of him kept telling him he was being crazy, that it was stupid, that he should just ‘chill, brah’ but it was getting less loud up agains that old voice and that same old feeling.

That tight hard knot in his stomach that felt like he’d swallowed a padlock.

The taste of old blood, rusty pennies, alleyways and dumpster beds.

That same part that warned him about trouble.

– o – o – o – o – o – o – o –

A ship docked one afternoon.

Just for a few hours, on the shore of Kaihua.

Small enough that Kai didn’t even notice from where he stood up behind the drying racks, helping Auntie with hanging up all the gutted fish. Salt and fish guts were too thick in the air for him to focus on anything else, the smell of the sea’s worst bits the strongest distraction you could ask for.

So when the scrappy little thing — a cutter that looked like it was held together with spit and rust, hull streaked with grime and so much else — finally hit the main dock, Kai barely even noticed at first.

Until he saw the sail.

The big white sail with that symbol, the blue seagull with the scales and right below it… Marines.

The fish he was holding slipped free from his fingers and splattered on the sand with a wet thwap, red guts staining his sandals and bare toes as every muscle locked up. Marines. 

The "Good Guys”, the cops of the whole world; the guys who didn’t actually give a shit.

No difference from what he already knew. A cop was a cop and a uniform was a uniform. That uniform meant they had all the power, and you didn’t. It meant they could walk into your house, or your alley, or your island, pull a gun,  and decide what was yours and what was theirs.

Like always, Lani’s dad was the first to move, the big man already half-barrelling down the sand from his hut as soon as they made landfall. Milo was a mountain of a man; seven feet of muscle, shoulders like boulders and a chest like two barrels. 

Despite all that, he walked down that dock with his hands open, palms up, and shoulders slumped.

Kai watched through the gaps in the drying fish, frown forming on his face at the sight of the officer that swaggered up to the chief. A skinny dude in a uniform that hadn’t been white in a while, the officer looked more like a joke than anything; his clothes stained with sweat and maybe coffee to the point that it was a sad yellowish-gray. His hat was too big for his head, a bored look on his face that made him look like he’d rather be literally anywhere else. “I don’t know what you want me to do, chief.”

“We get three good boats, none ours, but still all wrecks. Three boats gone, three weeks.” The chief’s voice was a rumble that you felt in your chest, usually. Today, it was tight and filled with a strain that wasn’t just from dealing with the marines. “My people can’t go past the reef fo’ fish, pirates all ova’. No safe. We need Marines to watch the island, officer.”

The officer sighed as he scratched his sweaty armpit, the sound longer and more dramatic than a tire leaking air. 

Kai’s teeth clicked together, all thirty-two grinding up against each other until his jaw almost ached. Real professional, dude.

“Look, Chief… Chief Milo, is it?” The Marine officer sighed again, the man checking his fingernails. “We get dozens of these a day. All these reports of little pirate crews hitting all these little islands.” He shook his head. “It’s pirate season in the West Blue, what do you expect?”

“Always pirate season, yeah?” Milo’s voice tightened, the chief towerring over the little Marine even as he kept his voice as level and respectful as a man that size possibly could. “You Marines… dat what you always say. Dat the same thing every time. We still asking you fo’ help, to do your job.”

Don’t ask him. Tell him. All ten fingers clenched tight at his sides. You’re the Chief. You’re strong.

“Dey gettin’ bolder.” The chief grunted loud. “Coming closer now, every time. Barrel Scrapers strip one village, dey take everything, just a day away. Nothing left. Not one grain rice.”

The Marine actually laughed, the short ugly bark enough to make Kai flinch. “Barrel Scrapers, chief? Be serious? That crew of drunkards? There’s a reason they’re called that. Too busy dunking for grog than doing anything real, come on.” The officer waved a hand over at the village, past the kids playing tag in the suf and at the smoke rising from the cooking fires. “This village… it’s got nothing to worry about. Nothing to steal. You’ve got… what, coconuts? Pretty shells? Fish?”

The muscles in the Chief’s jaw bunched up, ropes tightening under the skin of his arms as he leaned forward. “We all family here, got children to keep safe.” Voice a low growl, he stood tall over the Marine. “Dat not worth your time?”

The Marine actually rolled his eyes. “We’re stretched thin as it is. I’d ask if you know how big the West Blue is, but you’ve probably never left this island.” With that, he turned his back, just turning around on the chief. We can’t be everywhere. Best keep to yourselves. Build yourselves a wall or something.”

Chief Milo opened his mouth to say something but the Marine was already headed back to his ship, whatever business he had already completed.

The captain barked an order at his crew, Milo and Kai and so many others watching as the man boarded the Marine vessel again. In no time at all, the sails caught the wind and they pushed away from the dock, leaving behind nothing but fumes and a silence that felt heavier than before.

Blue eyes stood there, staring at the retreating ship as the symbol on the sails stared back at him; the Marines were gone again and they did nothing but make the mood worse after doing not a single damn thing to help out. Figures.

The sand sunk under his feet, pulling him back as he made his way back to his own hut. By the time he got inside, Kai just dropped right to the floor, his butt right on the wood, and pulled his surfboard into his lap. One hand palmed a puck of wax and, without thinking about it, he just started rubbing it on the deck. 

All circular motions. Wax on. Wax on. The familiar coconutty scent of the homemade board wax filled the small space, almost enough to calm the buzz under his skin. Pirates won’t come here.

Right? 

Maybe the Marines were right, even.

Why would they come to Kaihua? Pirates want treasure and gold and jewels and all that sort of stuff. The chill Island voice was its own comfort as he kept waxing. Kaihua’s just fishermen and surfers. We got nothin’. 

All he had to do… Just gotta stay chill.

– o – o – o – o – o – o – o –

Wax the board. Kai threw himself into getting ready for the next Great Wave. 

The whole island did. It was a big part of the culture, bigger than almost anything else; a time for everyone to come together tp enjoy the feasting and partying and surfing.

Ride the waves. He’d spent the last six months working on his surfing skills, learning to stay strong on the water and let go as he took the waves. And just in time, too. 

The Great Wave Festival happened every six months, give or take;  a big party built around the surfing competition with whole boats and ferries full of tourists from other islands making the festival a whole thing. It wasn’t strictly calendar-time, more when the waves were at their strongest and most perfect on the brightest day of the year. 

Kai had washed up on the shores of Kaihua right before the first one, and barely even noticed it happening; too busy sleeping in his tent and stuffing his face full to pay attention to what was going on around him. He’d lost the one after that to Mako because he was still tripping over his own feet on the board and struggling with his own powers to surf right.

But this one…

Nah. This one’s my year.

And just in time for his birthday too.

And the prize — his perfect birthday present — sat in the center of the village square, up on a wooden platform.

A skiff.

A tiny thing, smaller than any of the fishing boats the villagers used; the little one-man boat was more a surfboard than anything else. Sleek, thin, and painted a bright eye-searing orange that reminded him of a ninja show he used to watch on TV, the thing even had its own brand-new outboard motor. 

The Chief had bought it special from a trader and everyone knew that first place in the whole competition — juniors and seniors all thrown together — took it home.

It was fast. It was freedom.

And it’s gonna be mine. He could feel it.

The whole village was buzzing in preparation; people sitting in circles and weaving flower leis as hammers banged, saws buzzed and heavy things were lifted around to random places. It was life in every way, the best kind of life; all loud and messy and happy, a wide wall of noise they were building against the scary quiet out on the ocean.

For Kai, it was everything as he walked through the village, nodding at people.

“Hey, Kai!”

“Lookin’ good, water boy!”

“You gonna beat Mako this year?”

“You know it, Auntie!” Kai flashed a grin her way that felt more real than almost anything as he kept moving, grabbing his surfboard from the spot he’d let it rest beside her hut. By the time he hit the sandy shores of the beach, someone familiar was already there, the musclehead waxing his board.

“Ready to lose again, watah brah?” Mako squinted in the sun, both hands cupped around his mouth. “You still heavy on the water!”

“Keep dreaming, pretty boy!” Kai grinned back as he ran full-speed into the water, old board under his arm. The cool ocean washed away all the sweat beading on his skin as he paddled out; blood under his skin almost purring as the water kissed him, just happy to be home.

See? The island voice whispered in his ear. Everything’s fine. Just waves. Just vibes.

Just chill.