The Buoyant Tides

"They only had fifty men remaining since an attack earlier that week, and it was the captain's decision to pull back and retreat from the battle. Their ship was barely floating, they were physically and mentally exhausted, but what really was devastating was their lack of food. It had been two days since the last person had eaten, and the longest person had already gone four days. All he could do was simply sit in the corner and weep as his stomach roared in pain. Regardless, the crew didn't think any less of him. He was strong for going as long as he have, yet they till had three more days to go until they reached another fleet. Though hellish, they were blessed that they had escaped the battle, or so they thought they did. Suddenly, a wave crashed against the side of boat, and it was through fortune, and fortune alone, that none of the men went overboard. In a panicky frenzy, the scout peered across the wavy surface; he didn't like what he saw."

"Over the horizon, another boat, a larger boat, skimmed across the rising tides bearing hundreds of soldiers. Like the warriors they were, the shinobi prepared for battle, but nothing could have stopped their inevitable destruction. A stream of water struck the rear of the ship, forcing it upwards into the air, and before they had time to look and face the other naval vessel that had struck them, a wave of harpoons sank into the wooden frame of their own. The captain cursed under his breath as he spotted the tags of paper flapping in the wind. Within seconds, the ship was consumed in a wreath of flames, and when it returned to the sea it was on flames in pieces. Scorched, scathed, and broken, the men that survived the explosion could do no more, but sink to the bottom of the ocean, cursing the jashin and praying to their mute god.""

"Though, the skies were vacant, it was almost as if the sea wasn't. A beautiful woman dressed in red robes, with strawberry colored hair, and breast the size of melons enveloped them in a what seemed to be a spider web. Then.." The younger soldier was interrupted by the laughter of his comrades. Slamming his drink back onto the table, and older shinobi, approximately mid thirties to his early forties spoke, "That's some of the dumbest shit, I've ever heard Arta." It was apparent that the older shinobi was more experienced, and probably the leader of these younger group of refreshment-filled ninja. The only one that didn't seem particularly influenced was the one telling the tale.

"But, Captain Hiro, I swear it's true! You can ask anyone in the thirteenth division. I mean, it's only four of them, but ask any of them. I swear, they'll say that they were saved by a woman," Arata retorted. His voice was layered in belief, like a child's when they speak about the plausibility of Santa Claus, the Tooth Fairy. His features did not betray his emotions. He looked the captain in his eyes, radiating his desperate confidence. Yet, it seemed to have no effect. The older shinobi simply laughed, and his drunk colleagues, like a herd of sheep, followed. The conversation continued through the night, echoing throughout the bar, and ultimately getting nowhere.