Jozou steps back, the metal pads on his shoes clicking against the wooden stage in time with the beat, then cups his hands in front of his lower stomach. His dance partner, Kizhan, jumps up, lands both feet on his hands, then kicks off while Jozou throws her high. With an expert twist to her back and a gorgeous waving of her arms, she flips backwards and lands hard on the wood. She and Jozou turn to the elite of the ship, the loud click of their shoes and the blare of the three flutes behind them punctuating their final, triumphant pose that caps off the routine.
The older men go wild with clapping and stomping, banging their fists on the table. They’re all drunk, the song was suitably energetic, and the routine made use of Kizhan’s incredible beauty.
They’re breathing hard, sweating. They’ve been playing for over half an hour, and this is all their stamina can muster.
Jozou, Kizhan, and the three band members behind them stand up straight, then take a bow. As they do, the waitress Alice goes around with a hat and accepts tips for the performance. Their band, Heart of Loyal Servants, had to pay for the privilege of performing on the ship, so if they don’t receive enough donations they’ll go into debt and be sold into slavery.
When Alice brings the hat to the stage, Jozou walks forward. A cursory glance reveals it’s a fine amount, and he accepts the hat with a smile before leading his band off the stage and down the side staircase. Nobody speaks until the door has closed behind them.
“Kyaaaah!” Kizhan stretches her arms up, panting hard, “that was rough!”
Jozou smiles and digs through the hat’s contents, “but we made so much! And this is just our first night?”
Pandin, a large boy who uses a large metal concert flute, smiles excitedly, “enough to pay off the debt already?”
Jozou thinks, rocking his head back and forth. “No, I don’t think so. But if we get anything like this tomorrow night, then we will! Everything after will be pure profit.”
“Haha!” Helger, the last boy who uses a piccolo, raises his hand and starts dolling out high fives. “Did I say it was worth the risk, or did I!?”
The second girl, Ghzan, smiles softly. Her voice is weak and breathy, but she has the largest flute which splits into six pieces. “You did, you did. Thanks for suggesting it, Helg.”
Jozou starts snapping his fingers as he thinks, directing his friends down the twisting hallways of the yacht, all the way to the lower decks. “Okay, we rest up tonight, have a nice breakfast tomorrow, then practice all the way until our next performance.”
Kizhan snuggles under his arm, “set B?”
“Yeah,” he leans over and affectionately kisses her cheek. “Set B tomorrow, A the next day, then I’m thinking C for the final night.”
Ghzan breathes out, “we haven’t done C in front of an audience though. Shouldn’t all our practice be dedicated to that?”
“No, that night should be pure profit and we gotta end on something good. Just practicing that day should be enough.”
Everyone nods to the suggestion of their fearless leader.
The band reaches their room and Pandin unlocks the door, letting everyone get inside while he’s the last to enter.
Their cabin is small, with only one bed, and cots spread out on the floor. Nobody uses the mattress in the interest of fairness, and it’s instead used to store their instruments and uniforms. The rest of the room is a mess of travel bags, suitcases, and memorabilia from their many adventures as wandering musicians. The band ‘Heart of Loyal Servants’ has been in effect for ten years now, ever since its five members were children, and they’re finally settling into a nice routine.
Helger sits on the bed and gets to work cleaning everyone’s instruments.
Ghzan collapses on her cot, but quickly sits up straight and crosses her legs, breathing in and out for lung capacity exercises.
Kizhan heads to her corner and starts stretching, ensuring she won’t be sore tomorrow.
Pandin grabs some dirty clothes and starts washing them, grabbing a bucket, filling it with water from the sink, and adding soap.
Jozou grabs the money and stores it in a small metal box they keep hidden in one of their bags. It’s all the money they currently have. He takes out a checklist and goes over their expenses over and over, obsessively.
As everyone goes about their after-show tasks, Kizhan finishes her stretches and sighs. “Ugh, I’m all sweaty. Jo! Wanna shower?”
He waves her off, “in a bit. You can go first.”
She grabs some clean clothes, then heads to the door. But before leaving, she bends backwards, placing her hands on the ground, then kicks up to a perfect handstand. Her shirt falls upwards to cover her face, revealing a light green leotard under her clothes, so she balances on her left hand so her right can grab her shirt and pull it off her face. “Do any of you remember where the shower is?”
Pandin answers, not looking away from his work washing everyone’s clothes. “Left, left, right, forward until the staircase on the right, up three flights, out onto the floor, forward, left, second door on the right.”
“Thaaaank you Pan.” She pushes to her fingertips, turns around, then lowers herself slightly so her developed arm can push off and give her the momentum she needs to flip onto her feet. She heads out, following the steps perfectly. Her work as a dancer has given her an eidetic memory for those kinds of orders.
The door closes behind her, and everyone continues their tasks.
Jozou sighs, locks the small chest, and leans with his back against the side of the bed. “Alright… Money’s good, income’s good, we’ll land at port, pay our debt, and we’ll have plenty of funds to get set up in the new city.”
Helger finishes polishing off the flutes, and sets them down carefully in their protective cases, “did you find a place for us already?”
Jozou shakes his head, “no, but I’ve got three places in mind. I heard about them from these old sailors in the last port.” He smiles, “high energy locales, full of dancing drinking, and sometimes fighting.”
Ghzan takes a deep breath and speaks softly, “perfect for the music we offer.”
“Exactly-!”
Kizhan’s blood curdling scream suddenly echoes through the door.
The four performers perk.
“KI!?” Jozou yells as he scrambles to get up. All four of them rush to the door. Jozou reaches the door first, but Helger and Ghzan run into him. Pandin can’t stop his large momentum and smashes them all against the door.
“AGH!” Helger cries, “back up!”
“Sorry,” Pandin does, giving Jozou enough room to throw open the door and slip outside.
“Kizhan!” He looks left, then right down the lower deck hall, then follows the path towards the showers.
The other three follow as their leader speeds off, and soon Jozou turns down the long hallway leading to the stairwell.
Laying on the luxurious red carpet next to the door, with her back against the wall, is Kizhan. She’s holding her knee and there’s a black bag over her head.
“Ki!” Jozou slides next to her. A cursory look over her body reveals her knee is bending the wrong way, and blood is soaking into her tights. Jozou brings a hand to his mouth, his eyes wide.
“J-Jo?” She whimpers between sniffs and grunts of pain.
“Y-yeah, I’m here.” He tries to speak calmly, taking the bag off her head. She’s sweating, her eyes are baggy, her face twisted in pain. Every time she even slightly moves her leg, the muscles in her face tighten, and she hisses. “Wh-what happened?!”
The other three join them, crowding around Kizhan. Each band members gasps when they see her leg.
“I-I don’t know!” She cries. “I was just… walking! Then someone shoved a bag over my head, threw me against the wall, then I-I-I guess he punched my knee, o-or something!” Her head dips down, the pain pulsing up her body in waves.
Jozou stands up, running his hands through his hair and backing up, “uh… uh… does this ship have an infirmary?”
Pandin opens his mouth “yes-“
“No!” Kizhan cries, tears starting to stream down her cheeks, “do you have any idea how expensive that is? I mean, of course you do! You’re you! We can’t afford that!”
Jozou spins on his heel to look down at her, “we can’t afford your leg to be permanently messed up either! It’s fine! It’s fine… uh… Pan, take her to the infirmary.”
“Y-yeah.” The large boy kneels down, “this…” his eyes hold on her leg for a long moment. “This is probably gonna hurt.”
Kizhan frantically glances to each of her friends, then shuts her eyes tight and covers her mouth with both hands.
Gently, with as much care as he can muster, Pandin picks her up in a delicate princess carry. Kizhan’s muffled screams leak out from under her mouth, and Pandin hurries up the stairs.
“Helg, Ghzan, go with them. I’ll grab the money we have and see what we can pay for.”
The two are hesitant, but any order is better than standing around. Once the door to the stairwell closes, Jozou collapses to his butt.
“Sh-… Shit.” He runs his hand through his hair. “What are we… supposed to do now? W-we can’t afford this!” He clenches his teeth hard and grips his hair, “why does it always have to be something?! Why can we never just get into a routine?!” The pace of his breathing quickens; he’s freezing despite the sweat. After a hard gulp, he pushes himself to his feet and runs back to their room.
The door is slightly ajar. The dented knob was ripped off and placed on the nearby cabinet, leaving a circular hole in the wood.
Jozou’s throat tightens, but he walks closer. The person who attacked Kizhan, is he in their room? Is he trying to steal what money they have left?! Who did they piss off so badly to warrant this?
The boy tightens his brow and throws the door open, fists clenched and ready for a fight.
There’s a girl rummaging through their stuff, she can’t be any older than 12 or so. Jozou’s first thought is that she’s a distraction, the partner-in-crime of some thief who’ll come up from behind and attack him. But when Jozou turns his head, there’s nobody waiting for him.
He looks back into the room, and the girl is standing before him, looking up.
“Ah!” Jozou jumps back into the hallway, his back pressed against the opposite wall, and his hands up, “what?! You wanna fight?! Who are you? What did you do to Kizhan!?”
The girl is undeniably cute. Her long black hair is well maintained and silky, her light shirt and thick skirt are clean too. Her large, piercing red eyes perfectly frame her face. She doesn’t look like a stowaway, so she must have purchased her ticket. Or maybe she’s the daughter of some noble? Is breaking knees how she passes the time?
She steps closer. Jozou flinches repeatedly but doesn’t avert his gaze. “What is it!? Say something!”
She raises her right hand, holding his pair of tapdancing shoes. There isn’t a hint of emotion on her blank face.
Jozou looks down at his shoes but does nothing.
The girl shoves the shoes forward against his chest, forcing Jozou to grab them.
“Wh-what?”
She turns and walks back into the room, which is when Jozou notices that she’s wearing Kizhan’s set of shoes. Kizhan’s a short girl with small feet, and this stranger’s feet are a tad big for her size, so they fit well.
“Hey!” He yells, “those shoes aren’t yours-!” He lunges forward, but a tail slips out from under the girl’s skirt. It’s covered in boney plates, and the tip is a sharp needle that stabs into Jozou’s shoulder. “Ack!” He stops, and the girl pulls the needle out. With surgical precision, the needle missed his bones and veins, and it’s too thin to do any real damage. He bleeds for a moment, but his offhand grabs his shoulder, applying enough pressure to stop the small trickle of blood.
The girl walks into the room and steps onto a small, raised wooden platform that the band carries around for practice. Her shoes click, and she spins to face Jozou.
She strips off her long skirt, revealing the light, baggy set of white pants underneath, and freeing her tail. Tossing the skirt onto the bed, she shifts her weight to her left side and taps her right foot, keeping a firm beat. She shifts her weight and starts clicking the heels and balls of her feet, alternating legs, occasionally sliding to achieve a ‘shhff’ sound.
Though it’s messy, unpracticed. Her blank face and the lifeless motion of her arms and torso are boring to watch.
Nevertheless, Jozou recognizes it as an unrefined version of their earlier routine. Like how the chorus of a song is played between verses, this segment of their routine was repeated multiple times. It formed the standard bridge between different segments of the dance.
“You… you were there. A bit ago, it was you and two others, I think. I was mostly focused on the old guys, but you were there. You were watching.” He grumbles, “and you didn’t give us a tip…” He shakes his head, “hey!” She stops dancing and stares at him with that same blank look. “What’s wrong with you? Why are you doing this? You broke Ki’s leg for… why?”
“…” She taps her foot a few more times, as if to show off.
“So, what? You think you’re better than Ki? Is that what this is about? Say something already!”
“…” She taps her feet in the same way, presenting.
Jozou clenches his jaw. “This isn’t funny! Or cute! Do you know what you’ve done?! Ki can’t perform! We’re gonna- we… we can’t make the money we need! I don’t even know if we can pay off the medical bills!” His flexed arms tremble and tears stream down his cheeks, but the girl remains stone-faced. “We’re gonna get sold into slavery! You’ve ruined everything! It was going so well until-!”
The girl finally speaks. Her voice is low and husky. She sounds emotionless, but it’s a language Jozou has never heard before. He can’t recognize her inflection or tone either.
“…Ah, great.” He folds his arms and wipes away tears, “so you can’t even speak right?”
She says something else, but he has no idea what.
He grips his nose. “Great. Cool. I don’t even know what you want.”
Her tail taps his bicep.
He looks at her.
Her tail points to her stolen tapdancing shoes. She repeats the same motions again, filling the room with sounds of thin metal plates against the wood platform.
Then she stretches her tail past Jozou, towards his tapdancing shoes that he dropped when she stabbed him with her tail.
Her tail retracts, and points to his feet.
Her tail swings around to another raised wooden platform that’s off to the side. She taps the wood with her tail, then taps her feet to create the noises.
She pulls her tail back so Jozou focuses on her. Then, she points her hand up, circles her finger, taps her feet again, then reaches into her pocket to pull out a thick, rolled-up ball of cash.
Jozou inhales sharply, then runs to one of their bags. Digging through it, he grabs the case and unlocks it. “Huh? Our money… is still here?” He turns and sees the ball of cash in her hand. It’s a lot of money. Just from a quick scan, it’s so much money that his band could perform every day for a month and only barely make as much. He gulps, then stands. “S-so… I think you want me… to teach you tapdancing? And then we perform? But do you want a share of the money, or are you saying you’ll pay us?”
The girl raises her hands slightly before letting them flop back against her thighs. She has no idea what he said.
“Oh, err.” He walks in front of her, her head trailing his movements. “I,” he points to his chest, “teach you,” he points to her chest, “tapdancing,” he moves his feet in step with part of the dance. “Then we,” he swishes his finger between them, “go up,” he points to the ceiling, “to the dining hall,” he mimics his left hand holding a bowl, and his right hand scooping with a spoon. “Then we,” he points between them again, “dance,” he moves his feet, “to the song,” he puts his hands by his mouth to mimic a flute. “For money?” He points to the cash in her hand.
The girl thinks for a moment, then holds her hand out, displaying the wad of bills.
Jozou’s eyes widen. This must be some rich girl who took a passing interest in tapdancing and wants to be taught. That’s the only reason he can think of as to why she’d be willing to spend so much. But why did she break Kizhan’s leg? Is she stupid? If she just asked to be taught, the money is more than enough. In fact, the money is more than what he was expecting for performing a few times on the ship, so what gives?
But enough of these thoughts. The point is that this is their ticket out of the mess this little girl created. He reaches forward to grab the wad of cash, but the girl yanks her hand back.
“Wha-?”
She raises one finger, then points down, gesturing to her tapping foot, then she points to the other wooden platform. She raises two fingers, then points up, where the dining hall is. Finally, she raises three fingers, then points to the money. A very clear sequence of events. He trains her, they perform, then he gets the money.
Jozou nods frantically. “Yes, yes! I’ll do it, okay?” He reaches forward and puts his hand on her shoulders. He’s surprised for a moment had how developed and firm her muscles are, there’s very little give to her flesh. She must be some sort of athlete, which is a good sign for her stamina and coordination. “Teach you, we perform, then money.” He smiles weakly.
She doesn’t return the smile. She still has that blank stare. But she does extend her tail and tap the other wooden platform.
“Ah, right. Good. Yes.” Jozou exhales sharply. “Wait,” he backs up. “You,” he points to the girl, “broke the knee,” he lifts his leg and taps his knee, “of that dancer?” He points to the shoes on her feet.
The girl stares at him, then cocks her head.
He shakes his head, “nevermind, uh…” He’s breathing hard, but runs to the small case and pulls out all the money. “I need to go to the infirmary, umm… I don’t know how to gesture that though.” He backs up, tapping his knee repeatedly.
The girl approaches.
“…Fine! Come along then, I don’t know how to tell you to stay.” He waves his hand, gesturing her to follow, then runs down the hall. She doesn’t run, but every time Jozou turns around, she’s right behind him, walking. It’s like she starts sprinting when his head is turned.
He needs to pay the infirmary bill before anything.