[Asia] The Hero and the Captain (Koreaaaa~)

[America]

The Dragon Riders had been sent on a mission to some remote village in India… Alfred hadn’t actually paid attention long enough to learn the name of the city. All he was really aware of was he was taken along in case they needed repairs doing… Whatever they were doing. Honestly the American hadn’t been informed exactly what the mission was. Then again, he wasn’t often privy to what the top secret missions. All he really knew was though they were off flying through the skies, taking down pirates and being heroes…

The very thought caused his mood to dampen. Alfred kicked a rock, walking down the busy bazaar of the village. He had originally gone to the bazaar to look for spare parts; but just thinking of the others up in the sky being heroes. Doing something he had dreamt of doing since a child but couldn’t because of his stupid eyesight- Alfred nearly screamed in frustration, kicking the dirt street. He was supposed to be up there! Instead he was stuck fixing their dragons and hearing second hand about their exploits. Not that he didn’t mind fixing the machines. He loved doing it; even if the Air-Vice Marshal liked to breath down his neck when he was trying to fix his dragon.

But… But he was supposed to be a hero, right? Or at least attempting to be one. He didn’t exactly have a stellar tract record. After all-

No! Stop that train of thought right there Alfred! There was no point in thinking negatively. So what if he couldn’t fly because of some stupid decision that he needed glasses? He was still a hero. After all, he always fixed the dragons when they were damaged. If he never fixed them, then they wouldn’t be able to be heroes in the sky. A grin formed again as he continued walking down the streets feeling rejuvenated. That’s right, no need to get upset. He was still a hero!

Walking along the busy market place he paused, blinking at some of the scrap metal someone was selling. It reminded him of a surf board. Tilting his head he stared at it, before his eyes lit up. Shifting he unslung his backpack from his shoulder, sorting through the mess it contained until he pulled out his notebook (diary Inuk always called it. The jerk).

His mind was beginning to whirl with new ideas, like a film reel put on fast forward. It probably looked odd to the people passing by. A tall, blonde haired blue eyed young man standing in the middle of the street sketching away in his notebook while staring at a metal “surfboard”. Alfred didn’t notice the stares though, continuing to sketch away, excitement beginning to well up in his body. If he could build this odd contraption… He could fly, even if his eyesight wasn’t proper.

The grin stretched even wider as he continued jotting down designs, noting what parts he could need. Suddenly waiting around for them to get back from a top secret mission didn’t seem so boring.

[Im Yong Soo~!]

Yong Soo was breathing spice and color.

His crew having made port not a few hours previous, after securing payment from the enterprising tailoring merchant they had protected on the trip back from Canada, the Asian took upon himself as he always did the task of visiting the new port and familiarizing himself with its populace, hunting for a new job and taking in the local custom while everyone else resupplied. It was a duty Yong Soo was only too eager to embark on.

Under the Korean's feet, the streets pulsed with life, pulling him whirling into the thoroughfare. The sun stroked up the back of the Asian captain's neck as he watched the merchants ply their craft and wares across the bazaar. Languages dazzled against the Korean's ear, ranging the east and west with as much effort as it took to turn a globe. One minute Yong Soo was listening to a Frenchwoman barter ceramic dishes, the next he was startled by a fervent stream of Arabic as an eccentric fellow waved a basket in his face. Yong Soo politely declined, smiling nervously and backing off.

The variety was intoxicating, if a bit frightening, and the Korean couldn't help but meander to the marginally quieter mechanic's corner of the market to seek a little bit of solace. The primary languages here were English, Germanic, and Bengali, with the counterpoint of grinding joints of metal and bursts of steam whistles. The whirring gears filled the air with energy, but the Korean felt ease in their orderly creation compared to the wild frenzy on the streets. The scent of oil mixed with the spice of India as Yong Soo paced between the technological pieces and works, looking about him with wide-eyes and smiles--every turn revealed a new wonder.

"I don't think I'll ever get tired of this, da ze," he confided to Sang Ki, bobbing the smiling hair-curl with a whistle of air. Grinning, the Korean brushed a hand through his bangs, allowing his sleeves to drift long and loose about his sides. His eyes drifted across a toy bird, and he paused, watching the delicately made machine wharble a tinny tune while bobbing on a branch.

While doing so, the Korean's eye caught on a tiny hand nicking a timepiece from the stand, and the Asian turned a surprised look on a dirty-faced boy. The child froze, mouth trembling in sudden fear. Something about those eyes struck Yong Soo, a memory of seeing someone small and weak and desperately helpless, but before he could say a word the thief was gone, melting into the crowd with the harried pace of a frightened animal.

Yong Soo bit his lip, wondering if he should follow, when he was suddenly grabbed by the wrist and jerked about. "Aii!" The Korean exclaimed, coming face to face with an angry tanned man. While the Asian was still disoriented the vendor began yelling in a foreign tongue, making Yong Soo wince and try to edge away from the furious spittle. "Morugessu- I mean, I-I don't understand, da ze!" He spoke, frantically tugging his sleeve in an attempt to reclaim his arm. The man snarled, tightening his grip and pulling, causing Yong Soo to restrain a cry of pain.

"Thief helper!"

Yong Soo froze, looking up at the other in sheer disbelief. "Eh?"

"You pay." The vendor muttered darkly right as two thugs stepped from behind the booth, giving the Korean an evil look each.

Yong Soo gulped, pale with dread.

[America]

Being so focused in his sketch made him the prime target for passing pick pockets. Or at least that's what Alfred assumed when he felt a hand sneak into his pocket. Without any hesitation he snapped his hand down, dropping his pencil, to grab the wrist of the prying hand. When he looked down though, he blinked at the little boy who was staring up at him in fear. Looking like a dear that had been caught in the headlights of a car. He blinked once, then twice, then smiled letting go of the tiny wrist to fish through his pocket. Without even thinking he fished out the money he had been carrying and offering it to the child. The boy stared at him for another moment, before snatching the bills and rushing off.

Laughing in a small bit of amusement he watched the boy join up with others. Other pick pockets. Shaking his head the amusement faded, the America simply watching them in almost a sad manner. He couldn't help but wonder if he would've ended up like them had Auntie Emma not found him. Stealing from people and living on the streets.

It was scary how likely that could have been...

Shaking the depressing notion from his mind he continued to watch the boys, before bending down to pick up his forgotten pencil. He paused though, eyes widening as he saw on of the children be caught by an Asian man (a familiar man, very familiar). Alfred was prepared to hurry over to distract the Asian so the boy wouldn't get arrested (because Lord knew what would happen then), but he never had too. The boy had run off escaping. Good, he supposed.

Even though stealing was totally not heroic at all, he doubted the dirty faced gang of boys hand much of a choice.

"Thief helper!"

That drew Alfred's attention back to the familiar man who was being accused by the vendor. But that wasn't right! The man hadn't helped the boy at all!

Without any thought he walked towards the stall, shoving his journal back into his bag. "Oi! He didn't do anything." Alfred interjected, standing besides the now pale man. "He was just standin' around mind his own business. Leave him alone!"

[Im Yong Soo~!]

Yong Soo swallowed, glancing away from the rather intimidating scar searing across one thug’s nose to look back at the vendor, trying to hide his panic in a grin. The vendor was less than impressed, thinking that the Asian was mocking him, and the dark look on his face convinced Yong Soo to clear his expression again.

Come on, da ze! This is hardly the worst situation you’ve been in! You could take this guy and his friends down easy! In spite of the mental encouragement, the Korean’s mind still scrambled for a good way to get out of this without resorting to violence. He licked his lips, chuckling nervously and averting his eyes as he started to make a bid for himself. “D-Da ze, I-”

“Oi! He didn’t do anything.”

Both Korean and vendor turned towards the direction of the voice, the latter tensing up in a scowl as a young man approached. Once Yong Soo got a good look at the person, his eyes widened, his breath abruptly hitching.

It’s him! His blood sang with the simple yet confusing declaration, rushing through his veins in sudden excitement and causing the hair on the backs of his neck and arms to stand on end. Everything about the stranger—his build, his stance, his face and hair and those eyes—deep as sky and sea and bright like a clear summer day and aigo when he smiles you can feel it like sunlight through your bones da ze—caught Yong Soo all at once in a torrent of emotions; glimpses of something like hope and yearning and inexpressible gratitude and shame passing through much too fast for the Captain to catch and really see, evaporating through his skull like steam from boiling water.

His heart rose so high he could feel it trembling in his throat, a bird with fragile wings, and Yong Soo tried to swallow it back down before anyone else could see, frightened by the intensity of his own feelings. It felt like when he met Miss Mattie the first time, only so, so, so much stronger. Meeting the Canadian had sent a jolt; with this person, it was as though the Asian had been struck by lightning. And, just like lightning, it was already fading away.

‘It’s him,’ he heard again, a tired and sighing voice like the ebb in the tide, but the knowledge subsided before the Korean could ask ‘who.’ Yong Soo shivered in the aftermath, turning his eyes downward in an attempt to piece himself back together as the familiar stranger came up to stand beside him, face set in determination as he turned forward.

“He was just standin' around mind his own business. Leave him alone!"

Yong Soo was brought back to the present, and he tore his gaze from the ground to face the vendor again, wondering how in the world he could have forgotten him. It was evident the merchant hadn’t made the same mistake, though, as his eyes bulged in anger up at the unwelcome stranger, and he gave a tug on Yong Soo’s wrist, much to the Korean’s displeasure.

“I saw him! Let thief escape, and not do anything! Mind your own business, or I mind for you!” To emphasize his words, the two thugs stepped up, the scarred one cracking his knuckles while the other unstrapped a rather heavy looking cudgel from his belt.

Yong Soo’s eyes narrowed, face flushing with anger with the vendor’s mindless accusation and the threat to his defender. ‘Who I don’t need, da ze!’[/b] something inside Yong Soo yelled, ‘I’m not weak and no one needs to protect me anymore!’[/i]

With that impulsive thought, the glaring Asian suddenly pulled the vendor towards him while driving his opposite knee into the other’s stomach, hard. [/color]The merchant gave a sharp cry, releasing the Korean’s wrist as Yong Soo took several steps back, his astonished face openly exposing how surprised he was by his body’s own actions.

Aigo = Korean equivalent to a sigh
((Have fun playing with the NPCs!))[/size]

[America]

His eyes met the accused Korean for a brief moment, and he couldn’t help but wonder if they had met before. He seemed awfully familiar but… Nah, he was pretty sure he would remember him if they had met! Turning his attention back to the angry vendor he continued frowning, blue eyes narrow. This really wasn’t good, especially when two thugs stepped forward, cracking their knuckles (Thug 1) and tapping a cudgel in his hand (Thug 2). He was pretty much weaponless; all he had was his notebook and a couple of water bottles and wallet in his back pack. Then again, when he left earlier he hadn’t intended to get into an possibly dangerous encounter.

Then again he wouldn’t need any weapons. He could easily make do with his sheer strength… But he’d promise Emyrs he wouldn’t use it. He had been warned that it would only bring unwanted attention to him. Of course, if they started the fight he totally wouldn’t be able to help it. Squaring his shoulders he stood at his full height, one hand holding the strap of his bag while the other gestured wildly as he talked. ”You saw a kid run away from a stand that he happened to be standing by, too. Not him letting a thief run away so why don’t you go and shut up and leave him alone! Seriously, it’s your own damn fault you got something stolen!”

That… Was probably not the best way to handle the situation, nor the best thing to say considering the vendor went red in the face (okay, that was actually kind of funny to him). But Alfred had always had a habit of foot-in-mouth-syndrome. He really couldn’t help it sometimes!

Next thing he knew Thug 1 had yanked him forward by the front of his shirt. He said nothing, Alfred wondered if he didn’t speak English. Grinning, and mentally preparing for the imminent punch to the face, he rose his hands. ”What, it’s true! You don’t want soemthin’ stolen, you should keep a better e-”

Anything he was about to say was interrupted as the Korean kneed the vendor in the stomach. Alfred blinked, unable to keep himself from whistling impressed. He liked this guy already.

Though… Now they really needed to run. The vendor looked even more enraged, stuttering something and Thug 2 looked ready to beat the Korean guy up with that cudgel-thing, and Thug 1-

Shit he’d forgotten about his imminent punch to the face. Alfred was sent stumbling back a step or two, rubbing his cheek. For a second he toyed with the idea of just punching the guy back cause shit that hurt!

But that would probably lead a brawl in the streets. Which Emyrs would hear about somehow because that guy seemed to know everything. And then Alfred would get stuck with a ton of paperwork as punishment; and whenever he thought about paperwork a little voice in the back of his head just screamed ‘NO!’.

Right, so it was time for a retreat! Not really heroic but, well, it was all he could do. Side stepping Thug 1 he reached out, snatching the other man by the hand and swinging his bag to nail Thug 2 in the face before he could strike with the cudgel. ”C’mon!”

He started running before the other even responded.

[Im Yong Soo~!]

Why had he done that? Why did he strike first? That hadn’t been him, had it?

Yong Soo quickly stepped back again as the vendor glared, spitting something venomous. The Asian’s eyes honed in on Thug 2 approaching, cudgel rising. The Korean winced on instinct, feeling a phantom throb in the shoulder that had been hit back at Libertalia. Blunt-force bruises were not fun, whether it was a cudgel or a wok, and this guy wouldn’t hold back like Hyungnim did.

Well, neither would he, then.

The Asian had just shifted into a fighting stance, determined, when the American broke away from the scarred thug with the audible sound of a punch being thrown. Yong Soo’s attention snapped back on the blond, alarm bells ringing before the other suddenly grabbed him by the arm and pulled, swinging his bag into Thug 2’s face. The Korean cried out, stumbling to keep his balance as he was spun about, but needed no further prompting to pace himself to the other’s stride, the market-place vanishing in a blur.

‘Running away again, da ze,’ a cruel voice chided, but Yong Soo kicked it down. Sometimes it was a matter of choosing your fights, not letting them choose you. ‘Besides,’ he thought, feeling the stranger’s hand warm through his sleeve, ‘I have someone else to think about, da ze.’ Yong Soo could hear one of the Thugs yelling behind him, and put on a bit more speed, weaving into the crowd.

“This way, da ze!” he called back, not precisely knowing where he was going but following a feeling. He squeezed the American’s hand, tugging him through the temporary gap that formed between the shoppers, calling on every bit of escape instinct he had reared in the village, in the streets, and under Jia Long’s street-wise advice. He heard the thugs' voices start to fall back behind him, allowing enough room for a broad victorious grin, before he found they were running out of street—the horizon opened up as they approached the bridge to the other side of the market. Their lead would be compromised—especially if those guards on the other side saw anything suspicious.

Yong Soo’s eyes darted about the thoroughfare, desperately searching for an opening as he tried not to slow down. His heart beat fast in his skull, breath furling out in heavy puffs, when he spotted what he was looking for. Just beneath the bridge, a steam-powered mechanical elephant was carrying a load of silks and fabrics out of the city.

Yong Soo’s grin returned in full fierce force, and he dragged the blond behind him in a burst of energy. “Hold on tight, da ze!” he called back, aiming their bodies before he leapt off the edge of the city level.

For a moment, they flew.

The next they tumbled roughly across the cloth. Yong Soo felt whatever breath remained in his body knock itself out of him, and coughed. He hastily looked back up at the market, blood still rushing, before he grabbed the nearest piece of fabric and tugged it over him and the American, forming a makeshift cover that bled the air saffron.

Forgetting that his left hand was still warm in the American's, and that his right arm was draped over him, Yong Soo rested for a few minutes, just letting his body cool down, fingertips tingling as the small muscles in his back made little spasms, snickering breathlessly into the orange cotton cloth beneath him. It was part relief, part exhilaration, part sheer pride.

‘Can’t catch me, da ze~’ he thought, smirking.

After a beat, the Korean lifted his head, grinning at the blond, and drew back his right hand in a wave.

“Annyeong, da ze. How are you?” He giggled, careless and free. He blew Sang Ki out of his face, letting his right hand flop on the cloth, left fingers curling beneath his sleeve. “Think we lost them?” he inquired, letting his eyes close.

[America]

”This way, da ze!” All Alfred could do was nod, letting the other lead them through the crowds as he seemed to have a lot better skill at it. Maybe he was from around here, thus why he knew his way around? He wasn’t sure but it seemed likely. When he heard the thugs voices fading he grinned alongside the Korean, though he was also coming to the startling realization that they were running out of street to run. They’d be trapped then, and it would only be a matter of time before those thugs caught up with them.

Ah geeze, this was going to end in a brawl wasn’t it? Then he would be stuck with so much paper-

”Hold on tight, da ze!” The American blinked.

”What do- ACK!” A squawk of surprise escaped him as suddenly the Korea and jumped, pulling Alfred along behind him. Blue eyes became wide; and he was suddenly grateful today was one of the days he stubbornly refused to wear his glasses, because they would’ve been lost. But, oh wow, they were flying. That was the only conscious thought that could cross his mind as they fell. And if it was even possible his grin stretched wider at the sheer excitement of what was happening.

All too quickly it ended though, the two tumbling across clothe (what had they jumped on top of? He hadn’t been paying attention). The air was knocked out of him, Alfred stumbling back into a sitting position coughing out of the surprise of the impact. Every inch of him was tingling in excitement, adrenaline still coursing through his veins. Lying in the bundles of fabric he couldn’t help but laugh. Oh boy, that had been an adventure!

Laughing at the carefree question he looked at the giggling Korean he returned the wave. Or at least he’d been about too.

Sitting now, the adrenaline slowly fading, he actually had time to look at the other. Blinking he cocked his head to one side. They were closer too, which made things a lot less blurry for him (maybe he should’ve worn his glasses). There was something familiar though about the guy, like they’d met somewhere before…

He blinked again. Where could they have met before? Alfred tried thinking of all the places, but known came to his mind. In fact, he was pretty damn sure he’d never met him before but then why did he seem so-

”You let him die.” Blue eyes went wide, the color draining from his face as if he’d just seen a ghost. For an instant there was just blood. Blood dripping down the Korean man’s face, hollow eyes replacing the lively, bright ones. A frightening chill washed over him, Alfred unable to understand just why. His stomach felt tight, a voice that sounded much like his own whispering ”Failure” in the back of his mind. He didn’t get it. He really didn’t.

Especially when in a blink, everything was back to normal. The Korean looked completely fine, lying in the fabric with eyes closed, but very much alive and not covered in blood. Even the chill had vanished, the feeling of dread and the voice.

… Okay that was just freaking weird. Maybe he would ask Emyrs or Inuk about it later? Actually, on second thought, maybe not. If he did they would probably think he was either over working himself or crazy. Probably the second. Then they would kick him out and what in the world-

”This we lost them?” The question stirred him from his minor freak out in the making. To which he was incredibly grateful for. Lifting the fabric covering them he peeked out, squinting.

”Probably, I mean we’re movin’ sooo!” Dropping the fabric and looking back at him he grinned, offering his hand. ”I’m Alfred, by the way, Alfred F. Jones!”

[Im Yong Soo~!]

The shift in weight and light prompted Yong Soo’s eyes to open again, blinking, and he looked up. In the brief instant before the American spoke again, the Korean was struck by a heady sense of almost familiarity. His gaze lingered on the other’s jacket, his mind associating the sight with an emerging memory. He almost had it, on the tip of his tongue . . .

”Probably, I mean we’re movin’ sooo!”

Yong Soo blinked again, and the feeling passed as he looked up at the other’s smiling face, bright and open as he offered his hand. ”I’m Alfred, by the way, Alfred F. Jones!”

That was when Yong Soo noticed that the blond’s other hand was still laced with his own. He flushed slightly, but tried to play it off. “Alfred,” he murmured, before grinning broadly himself and sitting up, stealthily retracting his hand back to pull down his sleeve, accepting the other’s handshake. “Nice to meet you, da ze! My name’s Yong Soo. Im Yong Soo. I originated in Korea!”

The last was said with its usual flourish, but for the first time Yong Soo wondered if it didn’t sound silly—if the other would get the joke, or just think he was weird. The Korean smiled more to cover his nerves, wondering to himself why everything seemed so charged just by being around this new person.

“Thank you for back there, da ze—I don’t know what that guy’s problem was,” he laughed, rubbing the back of his head and forgetting again that they were still holding hands, this time without the sleeve.

“You must have a lot of stamina, da ze—you barely look winded.” Yong Soo smiled, impressed, before he noticed the slight discoloration on Alfred’s face. He blinked, surprised, and on impulse raised his free sleeve to the other’s cheek, petting the forming bruise.

“Does that hurt?” he asked, softly concerned. It didn’t seem that bad, but Yong Soo didn’t like the idea of someone getting hurt in his defense. “Sorry.”

[America]

(My computer ate the original reply ;w; -kicks it-)

He hadn't even noticed that they were still holding hands. At least not until Yong Soo pulled his hand away only to accept his handshake. Alfred hardly thought anything of it though, grinning still as he shook the others hand. Though he blinked at his comment. "Originated in Korea"? So he was from Korea? That was an odd way to phrase it, but Alfred found himself laughing regardless, grinning at the interesting man. "Well, then I originated in America."

In the back of his mind there was a voice warning him that Yong Soo could have taken his statement as Alfred mocking him. But it was a very quiet voice, one Alfred brushed away, because he wasn't really. It was a cool way to state where someone was from. Using his free hand he waved off the apology, this time taking note of the fact they were still holding hands. And again he really didn't mind. "No big deal! It's a heroes duty to help people in need!"

He had been about to reply to the comment on stamina, but instead found himself wincing when the Korean patted the forming bruise. Something he actually didn't want to do. He grinned still though, swatting the sleeve away in more of a joking fashion. "Pfft, this is nothing! My teammates hit harder then that guy did!" Though, that brought about another question. "Hey, you alright? Those creeps didn't hurt you or anything?"

[Im Yong Soo~!]

Yong Soo’s smile became a bit more genuine. Okay, the guy got it, and played along besides. For some reason, Yong Soo really, really liked that. “Nah, I’m fine,” he assured, waving his free sleeve side to side, a bit sheepish. “I think I hurt the angry-vendor-guy more than he hurt me, da ze. Dunno where that came from.”

To be honest, that bothered the Korean more than he let on. He had been having more and more moments where he seemed to be doing something he wouldn’t ordinarily do, or being told he was acting a bit strange but not remembering how or why. Like most things that bothered him, however, Yong Soo was content to brush those worries off, especially since he never seemed to do something too weird. Even when he did, they usually worked out alright. Most of the time.

Distracting himself from that sort of thinking, Yong Soo tuned in on the other’s words. He grinned at the “hero’s duty” bit, partly because the guy was so sincere when he said it. “You sure look the hero type, da ze,” he remarked, gently poking Alfred’s bomber jacket. “A real American hero—maybe I should call you Mr. America.”

The Korean laughed, but the nickname struck a chord a touch too close to something he wasn’t ready to face. He let go of Alfred’s hand, and settled back on the cloth, tilting his head and trying to reconnect, smiling easily. “So, other than engaging in market-place heroics, what brings you to India, da ze?” he asked, resting against a roll of fabric and feeling the reverberations of the mechanical elephant’s tramp through the jungle. The simmering heat kneaded the back of the Korean’s neck, and he could hear birds and monkeys trilling away as the market noises faded. He idly blew Sang Ki out of his face, brushing the curl back. “You mentioned something about teammates?”

[America]

”Y’sure your alright?” Alfred wasn’t exactly sure why he was suddenly so worried about Yong Soo. After all, he did say he was okay. There was just something in the back of his head telling him he had to be sure, that he had to make sure Yong Soo stayed safe this time. He couldn’t fail again. Again? He wasn’t sure what that meant, though he figured maybe it was that continuous guilt he still felt for failing to protect Arthur. Yeah, that was it. He didn’t want to fail someone again. At the mention of the ‘angry-vendor-guy’ Alfred laughed loudly, probably too loud for someone who was suppose to be hiding. His grin brightened as he reached out, giving Yong Soo a friendly, playful punch in the arm. ”Dude! You totally owned the guy. I mean, well not really! But you surprised him! You should’ve seen his face!”

Pausing briefly he looked at Yong Soo, seeing for a brief moment the concern. Not fully noting that it was concern he just continued grinning, unconsciously giving the hand he still held a small squeeze. ”Plus he totally des-.”

He trailed off at Yong Soo’s comment. Did he really look like “the hero type”? No, not even that “a real American hero”? The Korean probably didn’t realize how much hearing that meant to him. Sure, Alfred knew he was a hero but… Sometimes he couldn’t help but doubt himself. Or that others would never come to view him as a hero despite how hard he worked. Especially since he was stuck behind the scenes working on the dragons for the others, opposed to flying up there with them helping bring down the bad guys. It took everything in his power to not pull the Korean into a giant bear hug. It really did.

Alfred managed though. He also managed to keep the excitement and happiness the two comments made him hidden. Because it was silly to get so worked up! It really was. Yong Soo would probably laugh at him if he realized. Instead, he found himself laughing at the little nickname, and at the same time finding something incredibly familiar about it. ”If you want! I could call you Korea too, or somethin’.” And the notion didn’t seem very odd to him.

The hand left his, and momentarily he was disappointed by that. But only momentarily. Readjusting his position in the piles of cloth, he moved to cross-legged, listening to his new friends questions. He could feel the mechanical elephant continued forward, and it did everything in his power not to peek out again, and see just exactly how it was moving. ”I was lookin’ for parts originally! I’m… Well, I’m my teams engineer so I have to keep an eye out for cheap but sturdy parts.” Almost shyly he rubbed the side of his nose. ”What ‘bout you? I doubt you came to India to get harassed!”

[Im Yong Soo~!]

In the face of the American’s confusing (but rather charming) concern, Yong Soo nodded, tilting his head with a grin. “Alright originated in Korea!” he joked, fluttering his sleeve from side to side. “Gamsa. It takes more than a grab on the wrist to hurt me, da ze, and I didn’t let the guy do more than that.” He gave a mild “oof” at the playful swing, rubbing his arm and chuckling. “I had a front row seat, remember?”

The casual contact was oddly heart-warming—it reminded the Korean of his siblings, back when everyone was too young to think of being proper, and they were all able to just be kids. Well, maybe not Kiku, but the Japanese man had been guilty of childishness at least once or twice under Yong Soo’s persistent provocation. He held it as a point of pride.

Yong Soo smiled fondly at the memories. Strange, to think this Westerner brought him closer to home than he had been in months. The American trailed off, causing the Korean to look up, and Yong Soo found to his mild embarrassment that he had completely spaced out on what the other was saying. It didn’t seem to matter, though, because Alfred had this small smile on his face that didn’t match the sheer life in his eyes.

He looked so happy.

Yong Soo really liked that.

The American’s next comment made him reel a bit though, causing Yong Soo to sit up and blink. Huh? Korea?

-he wasn’t good enough to be Korea no not yet he wasn’t enough he wasn’t ready he was too broken too weak too scared too human too-

. . . “Ehe, maybe not, da ze.” Yong Soo shrugged, averting his eyes slightly and unable to explain his sudden uneasiness. He tried to hide it in a grin, looking up and rubbing the back of his head. “But definitely something!”

Only too willing to distract himself from that uncomfortable black feeling the Korean latched onto the American’s next words, eyes widening in fascination. “You’re an engineer, da ze? Wow! That’s so cool! I bet it takes a lot of skill!” Yong Soo grinned, impressed, and found himself wandering toward Alfred’s side of the elephant to lean over the cart-wall in an attempt to get a better look at the elephant. “Could you make something like this, da ze? With enough time and material? Closest thing I can manage is basic maintenance on my ship!”

He looked over at Alfred, half-draped across the edge of the carrier. He laughed at the other’s comment, shaking his head and trying to think of the best way to respond. “Nah, I came here to make sure my client got to his port okay, da ze. I’m Captain of an escort ship.”

For some reason, Yong Soo didn’t want to come out and say the word “pirate” around Alfred. He couldn’t help but be afraid the American would see it wrong. Besides, he didn’t lie. Really.

[America]

He was relieved that Yong Soo was alright. Really he was probably worrying for no reason. The guy seemed tough after all, especially considering that he’d kneed the vendor in the stomach. Yup. Yong Soo was definitely tougher then he looked. Alfred laughed outright leaning back in the various fabrics they’d taken refuge in. He had half the mind to peep out again though. They were on a mechanical elephant! How cool was that! Maybe he could scour parts later to make a miniature elephant… Or maybe something cooler, like an eagle! Or something like that.

His grin faltered momentarily as he looked at Yong Soo again, seeing how his expression shifted when Alfred made the little joke about calling him ‘Korea’. Maybe he shouldn’t have joked around like that. The American shifted, prepared to change the subject until the Korean spoke up again. Briefly he wondered just why the idea bothered him, but seeing Yong Soo grin again he opted to just push the thoughts aside. At least for now.

The next question made him grin wider. He nodded rubbing the side of his nose with his thumb. ”You bet it takes a lot of skill! And ‘m one of the best around, if I do say so myself!” It was a cocky thing to say, but Alfred felt it was true. Rolling his head back he looked back over the cart-wall at the elephant thoughtfully. ”Aah, I probably could. It’d take awhile to get it this big though! But I totally could.”

His eyes widened at the mention of a ship, and then Yong Soo admitting he was a Captain. ”You’re a Captain!? Seriously, oh man Yong Soo that’s so awesome! Is it an air ship or a sea ship? What kinda people do you get to escort?”

He couldn’t help but ask the excited question, curious to know everything the Korean had to say. [/color]

[Im Yong Soo~!]

The confident boast made Yong Soo quirk his eyebrow, his grin tilting slightly in amusement. ‘America’s not geared for false modesty, da ze’[/i] he wryly noted, missing the noun confusion as he crossed his arms on top of the cart edge, letting his sleeves dangle and thump against the wall with the tramp of the mecha-derm. “You’d prolly want to start small at first, right, da ze?” he asked, tone lightly teasing but friendly.

The unexpected barrage of compliments caught Yong Soo off-guard, prompting him to sit upright again and owlishly blink at the blond’s sudden enthusiasm. Then he grinned, nodding energetically, chest filling up with pride. “Ye, of course I am!” Once Alfred asked about the ship, the Korean couldn’t help but scoot closer, turning to face the American as he held out his sleeves, fluttering them in excitement. “It’s even better, da ze! It’s a real life Korean turtle ship!”

Considering the possibility that the engineer may not know about the greatest ironclad vessel ever made in Asia, Yong Soo shook back his sleeves so that his hands showed, drawing a picture in the air and delving into technical babble without even registering it:

“It’s an ancient ironclad warship, da ze, the first kind ever made! She’s built with two masts and two sails, a turtle-tail shaped rudder, and a u-shaped hull—that was the important part, da ze, because with that structure the turtle ship is able to turn on her own radius, adding to maneuverability in the water. It also stabilized her cannons—she has about twelve on each side, in addition to a battering ram down below, here—that was particularly useful combined with her short bursts of speed—an anchor at the bow, here, and the dragon figurehead, here, which does double duty as a gun-port and a fire-spewing weapon of death!”

Yong Soo flared his sleeves in demonstration, eyes glinting above his grin. “I also think it’s got the best view, on board, da ze,” he added, barely taking a breath before plunging on with his illustrative gesturing:

“The reason why she’s called a turtle ship, though, would be because of her top-deck—it’s made of lots of thick wooden boards and covered with lots of sharp iron-spikes, so even if someone managed to get a grappling hook on her, if they were stupid tried to board her, well, they’d have to invest in buying some new feet.”

Yong Soo chuckled, rocking his head from side to side, allowing his hands to drop as he smiled with pride, voice going sing-song. “She’s my Lucky Dragon, da ze, and she originated in Korea~”

After a beat, Yong Soo blinked, suddenly remembering that Alfred had asked a question that wasn’t about his ship details. Flushing sheepishly, the Korean rubbed the back of his neck, letting his eyes drift aside. “Oh, ah, you know, I get m-merchants, mostly,” he muttered, mentally kicking himself for the stutter, “nothing that big—just people who want to be kept safe from- pirates.” Yong Soo barely managed to avoid using the phrase “other.” “I usually work in the Pacific, but…I go further, sometimes…”

With that rather awkward finish Yong Soo looked up at the American again, still a bit embarrassed about talking the other’s ear off. The Korean could only hope that he could excuse the heat for his face. ‘Why did talking too much have to originate in Korea, da ze?’[/i] he internally agonized.[/color][/size]

[America]

Cocking his head to one side at the comment of starting small, Alfred nodded, nearly pouting. ”Yeaaaah, starting out small is the best way to go… But it’s so not fun! Then again… Ems proooobably wouldn’t want a giant elephant in the base…” But if he had his way he’d always start big! But Emyrs probably wouldn’t appreciate the giant elephant. Neither would Talei probably wouldn’t either… Inuk might be down with it though.

Lost momentarily in his thoughts about how he could convince the other two members of the Dragons to let him make a giant elephant (long gone was the contemplation for the miniature version) he almost missed Yong Soo’s reply to his countless questions. Thankfully he’d been looking in the Korean’s direction in time to see his energetic nodding. It made his grin return full force. Yong Soo’s energy was contagious, it really was.

A turtle ship? The immediate mental image of Yong Soo riding a giant turtle came to mind. And understandably it made Alfred giggle (not that he would admit that’s how he laugh). Yong Soo didn’t seem to notice, especially as he continued on to actually explain what the ship was.

… Of course now Alfred just imagined a giant turtle with canons coming out of its shell… He had a feeling it was something he would just have to see. The ship sounded pretty awesome, and Yong Soo was so excited that it actually made Alfred want to bounce in place. Ah and he protected people from pirates! Yup, Yong Soo was awesome!

”So you’re like a defender of justice! Keepin’ people safe from pirates so they can travel safely. So cool!” The American’s grin faltered, scratching his cheek. ”Though no offense, I can’t get the mental image of a turtle with canons outta my head…” Was that a stupid thing to say? Oh well! Too late now. [/color]