Menma, fully immersed in his act, slowly and painfully began to rise again, like a wounded beast, teeth clenched, body trembling, ready to fight to his last breath.
The sailors, shaken to the bone by the aura Menma was shining with, took a step back, eyes wide in terror.
Sarah, being freed from the clutch of the sailor, dropped to the ground, also scared and shocked by what she saw.
Murakami, rising from the floor, was fuming with rage.
"You idiots! He's struggling just to stand! Pin him to the ground or I'll make every last one of you scrub this deck with your faces!"
The captain's shout snapped a few men out of their fear.
Shame turned into rage, and two bulky sailors rushed forward.
They each grabbed one of Menma's shoulders and pinned him to the deck, knees on his back, pressing hard but not too hard.
They had been warned. This child was valuable. Don't damage the goods.
Menma screamed, acting perfectly, raw and convincing.
Murakami stormed up to him, kneeled, and grabbed his hair, yanking his head up.
"Aghhh!"
Menma cried out as his head was pulled back.
Breathing heavily, Murakami leaned in, his voice broken, low, and venomous.
"I'll admit it... You are an Uzumaki monster. But here?"
"I am the boss. And you, are my toy. To be played with however I want."
He paused, then smiled. It was twisted and feral.
"From now on, I'll personally feed you poison every single day. I want to watch how hard you struggle to change your fate. And when I finally sell you and that girl, to be bred by those ninja villages, I'll count my money here on this deck as I always did. You know what? Maybe you'll even get to plant your seed in her too..."
"Of course... after she's birthed seven children, while you 'mature' into a useful little stallion. Hahahaha!"
Then, he walked toward Sarah.
She had collapsed to the floor, silent, powerless, her small frame trembling even more after hearing Murakami's words.
Murakami knelt beside her and forced her to look up, turning her face toward Menma.
"Sarah... Remember that boy's face. He's the only one who ever protected you."
"Because once I've turned you into money, the only faces you'll see will be lustful bloodline clan scum, eager to own your womb."
Sarah broke down completely.
She couldn't scream, couldn't run, couldn't fight.
Her hope, her savior, was on the ground, broken and pinned like her.
Murakami stood up, pleased with the despair he'd caused. His anger had finally been soothed.
With a dismissive wave, he ordered his men to return the two children to their cage.
He wasn't interested in playing with them anymore.
He had already won, for now.
---
Menma and Sarah were thrown into the cage like lowly animals.
Menma collapsed to the floor, motionless, his body limp as if he were dead.
Sarah curled up in a corner, hugging her knees, burying her face in them, and crying waterfalls of pain.
The sailors locked the cage door after ensuring there was nothing suspicious inside. Then, without a word, they left, closing the trap door behind them and returning the cargo hold to darkness and silence... a silence made of sorrow.
After a moment, a small white furball popped out from a stack of hay.
Snow, quiet and watchful, padded her way toward Menma, who was still playing dead.
She sat down in front of his face and tilted her head, watching him closely.
Menma, struggling to stifle a laugh, twitched his lips.
He had pulled off something no one would ever believe!
He had charmed a ship full of hardened men into believing a story he had made up on the spot and performed it to perfection.
He wanted to scream in Victory, but he had to control himself.
Eventually, he calmed down, sat up, and leaned against the side of the cage, letting Snow jump into his arms.
As he stroked her fur, he reflected on the journey so far, smiling... until he remembered the tuna.
No.
Hell no.
He wasn't going tuna hunting again.
He tried to push away the guilt of throwing so much gold into the sea, patting Snow more gently to soothe his own soul.
Even during his performance, the real reason behind his tears had been the gold.
So sad...
Then his eyes wandered to Sarah, who was still crying quietly in her corner.
He remembered how she had stood up for him before and taken care of him at night.
He took a deep breath, then slowly let it out.
It seemed he had no choice now.
He would have to save this girl.
Another bond.
Another responsibility.
He looked down at Snow, who was purring softly in his arms.
Leaning in close, he whispered to her.
"Dear... do you think we can save another person who needs saving?"
Snow stopped purring and turned to him, then followed his gaze toward Sarah.
When she realized what he meant, her expression fell.
She glared at him with obvious dissatisfaction.
Seriously? This girl?
The same one who, in Snow's opinion, was a threat to her relationship with her big boy?
And now he wanted her to go help that girl? Dream on.
Menma sighed and stroked her gently.
He explained softly how Sarah had helped him, how she'd taken care of him when he was at his weakest and now, it was time to return that kindness.
Snow was reluctant at first. But slowly, with coaxing and head pats, she gave in.
Grumbling silently, she crawled out of Menma's arms and padded toward Sarah.
Before walking away, she shot Menma a look of betrayal, which earned her a nod of encouragement in return.
Still annoyed, she raised her paw and gently tapped Sarah's arm.
But the girl didn't respond.
Snow narrowed her eyes.
Oh, so that's how it is?
Her soft paw turned into a sharp claw. She pinched Sarah's arm just hard enough to prick her.
Sarah flinched and looked up, startled.
She stared at the cat in confusion, not having seen a white cat, especially one this fluffy and round, in a long time.
Snow tilted her head and pawed Sarah's arms open, then stepped into them and began to purr.
Sarah sat dumbfounded.
Looking up, she saw Menma leaning against the cage bars, giving her a gentle nod.
Understanding his gesture, she slowly wrapped her arms around the cat and buried her face in Snow's soft fur.
As time passed, her crying slowed, and she calmed down.
Eventually, she let go and crawled over to Menma, gently handing Snow back to him.
Snow, now free from duty as a mobile tissue box, leapt into Menma's arms and demanded affection of her own.
Menma obliged, cradling her gently with a small smile, tuning out the world.
But the moment was broken by a quiet, hoarse voice.
"How can you smile so happily... knowing what we're going to face?"
Sarah sat against the bars again, arms around her knees, eyes swollen from crying.
Menma looked at her, still smiling.
He had already thought about what kind of compartment he would follow in dealing with he. That is, he would trust her and be honest with her. And if the consequences came, being used or betrayed, he was strong enough to face them all.
It was time to let go of some of his concerns.
"Because I know," he said, "everything he said... will turn out to be nothing but empty lies."
Sarah blinked. Her expression faltered.
"But... you're not strong enough. They won't feed you properly. You're too weak..."
Menma froze for a second.
Wait, she believed it all, too? Even after seeing his ninja tools?
"Pfft... Hahaha!"
He chuckled.
"Your name is Sarah, right?"
She nodded weakly.
"Well then, Sarah... I can call you that, yeah? Good. Let me tell you something."
He leaned in.
"Everything that happened on the deck? That whole story? The poison? The tragedy? All of it, was fake. I made it up."
"Eh?"
Sarah blinked, confused.
"Ehhhhh?!"
"Pffft! That's right! The whole story. Total lie!"
"EHHHHH?!"
"Pfffft! Hahahaha!"
Sarah was in disbelief.
She thought about how deeply she had felt for him, how much she had cried...
"Give me back my tears, you liar!"
She lunged at him and bit his shoulder.
"Ouch! Ahhh! I was wrong! Please spare me!"
After letting out her frustration, she sat on his stomach, arms crossed, waiting.
Menma sighed. Time to talk.
"Well... I am an orphan. I was raised in a village, not just any village though. I was raised in Konoha. The ninja village of the Fire Country."
Sarah gasped.
Hope lit her eyes.
She was saved!
But Menma caught it and quickly cut in.
"Don't get too excited. They're not coming. Even if they do, it won't be to save me."
"I'm a traitor... someone hunted. Not someone rescued. And, I possess something so valuable that, once any one knows who exactly I am, then a war to grab me will be unavailable."
Those words were like a cold wave washing over her. Her light faded. She collapsed onto his chest and cried again.
Menma blinked.
Seriously? Again? How much water is in this girl?
Is this normal for women? Or is she some kind of elemental type...?
He let her cry. Then, lifting a hand, he gently patted her head.
"Don't cry. Don't be sad. Everything will be okay. I'm strong, you think I escaped the village just by luck?"
But the words didn't reach her.
So he tried something else. Something filled and made from depth of a broken heart, reaching to another cold and lonely heart.
"I, Menma Uzumaki, swear on my honor as a ninja and a man... on my beliefs to change this world, and the blood in my veins along with the soul that drives my body... I will protect you, Sarah, from any and every possible harm. No one with bad intentions will ever touch her!"
Sarah raised her tear stained face and looked up into his eyes, those confident, unwavering eyes.
Something broke inside her after seeing those steady eyes, filled with pain but covered with hope. Something that had been locked up for years cracked.
The floodgates opened.
She cried louder than ever, clinging to him, letting everything out. The loss, the fear, the pain.
It was the first time she had truly cried since losing her mother.
Menma just held her. He didn't ask her to stop. He understood.
Sometimes, all someone needed... was a shoulder to cry on.
While he was letting Sarah cry her sorrows out, he also thought about how he could get to the dry land and grab a fortune from Murakami. He also wanted to know, if he had seen an Uzumaki being traded in black market.
Maybe, just maybe, he could track them down and remake and regroup his clan...
---
Murakami sat alone in the wheelhouse, gazing out through the rain-streaked window. His eyes were narrowed, deep in thought, calculating, weighing, strategizing.
What to do with the boy?
He knew.
He knew very well.
Menma was both a gold mine and a ticking bomb. One wrong move, and the boy could bring his entire ship to the bottom of the ocean.
But if handled properly...
The riches awaiting him were beyond anything he had ever dreamed.
He had to plan everything down to the finest detail and only then take action.
After a long stretch of silence, a crooked smile slowly spread across Murakami's lips.
A smile that gleamed with greed, control, and ambition.
He reached into a drawer and pulled out three letters and three different envelopes, all marked with seals of varying significance.
With careful precision, he began writing. Each letter bore a different tone, a different message, a different purpose, but all carried the same name: Uzumaki.
Once he finished writing, he left them to dry for a short while. Then, folding them into sharp squares, he slid each into its respective envelope and tucked them into three separate inner coat pockets.
With that done, he made his way to the innermost cabinet of the wheelhouse.
There, hidden behind a reinforced panel, was a concealed compartment.
He opened it, revealing a large, powerful swift, sleek and sharp-eyed, its feathers glinting like black steel under the lantern's dim light.
This bird was not an ordinary courier.
It was a high-grade smuggling swift, bred, trained, and conditioned for long-distance missions across dangerous routes.
A rare creature that had cost Murakami a fortune to acquire and even more to raise.
Murakami reached into a side crate and retrieved a sealed pouch containing the swift's highest-grade ration, mixed with stimulants and hydration serum. He held the food out in his gloved hand. The swift hopped onto his forearm and ate quickly, efficiently.
It would be flying for six days.
After feeding it, Murakami secured the important letters, each for one of the black-market's big owners, to its legs, binding them with a fine chain thread. He checked the knots twice, then strode to a narrow window at the side of the room.
He unlatched the frame. Cold wind surged in.
With a wordless nod, he extended his arm and let the bird launch into the cloudy skies, cutting across the it like a dagger, bound for its shadowy destination.
The plan was set in motion.
It would take six days for the swift to reach the black market's central dealer, and another three days for the word to spread to his primary buyer and the surrounding circles.
That meant When his client finally heard the news, Murakami would already be half a day from the agreed exchange point.
There would be no time to negotiate.
The client would be forced to prepare the full amount immediately, without room for bargaining or hesitation.
And even better, the news would stir the entire black-market community.
If the client dared to back out or shortchange him, it would ruin his reputation entirely.
In the black market, losing face was worse than losing money.
No dealer would ever trust him again.
No more rare bloodline children would be offered to him.
Murakami smirked.
It was foolproof.
A plan layered with pressure, urgency, and fear.
It was the perfect trap and his warranty.
"Hahaha..."
His low laugh echoed in the stillness of the wheelhouse.
He closed the compartment.
Locked the drawer.
Checked the heading.
Everything was in place.
He could already smell the gold.
A future dripping with wealth.
Influence in every port.
A name whispered with reverence in every shadowed alley.
Power.
He couldn't wait.
But unknown to him, his action, would attract two more group of people's interests and their clash over Menma's custody right, along with their actions to secure him, would shake the lines of fate to their very core!