John wick in one piece

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The calm sea stretched endlessly before them as the sloop glided through the water. Michael adjusted the sails, his gaze fixed on the horizon, while Lia sat cross-legged at the bow, scribbling notes into a small journal. Despite the steady rhythm of their days, Michael was always on edge. The East Blue might have been the weakest of the seas, but it wasn't without its dangers.

"Do you think we'll see another ship soon?" Lia asked, her voice breaking the silence.

"Maybe," Michael said, scanning the horizon. "But not all ships are friendly. Remember, we keep our distance unless we're sure it's safe."

Lia nodded, her expression serious. She had grown more disciplined in the past weeks, taking her training seriously and absorbing every lesson Michael taught her. But she still had a long way to go, and Michael was determined to keep her safe until she was truly ready for the harshness of this world.

His thoughts were interrupted when a dark shape appeared on the horizon. At first, it was just a smudge against the blue, but as it grew closer, Michael's jaw tightened. The ship was larger than theirs, with dark sails and a rugged design that screamed danger. His suspicions were confirmed when he saw the flag: a skull with crossed daggers beneath it. Pirates.

"Lia," Michael said, keeping his voice calm. "Go below deck. Now."

Lia turned, her eyes widening when she saw the ship. "Is that—"

"Go," Michael said, more firmly this time. "Stay there and don't come out until I tell you it's safe."

She hesitated but obeyed, disappearing down the hatch. Michael exhaled, his mind racing. The pirate ship was closing fast, its crew shouting and laughing as they prepared to board. He checked his revolver, ensuring it was ready, and adjusted the knife at his belt. His goal wasn't to fight but to protect the sloop and get away intact.

The pirate ship pulled alongside the sloop, and a group of rough-looking men swung over on ropes, landing heavily on the deck. Their leader, a tall, wiry man with a crooked grin and a jagged scar across his face, stepped forward.

"Well, what do we have here?" the leader sneered, his voice dripping with mockery. "A lone sailor? This must be our lucky day."

Michael remained calm, his hand resting near his revolver. "Turn around and leave. You don't want this fight."

The leader laughed, his crew joining in. "You've got guts, I'll give you that. But guts won't save you out here."

Michael didn't waste words. Instead, he acted. He swung the boom of the sail with practiced precision, forcing the pirates to scatter and disrupting their advance. In the confusion, he grabbed the rope holding the boom and used it to swing himself across the deck, putting distance between him and the crew.

"Get him!" the leader shouted, pointing a jagged cutlass toward Michael.

The pirates surged forward, but Michael stayed light on his feet, dodging their clumsy attacks. He grabbed a loose piece of wood from the deck and used it to deflect a poorly aimed strike. As another pirate rushed him, Michael sidestepped and shoved the man into the mast, knocking him off balance.

"Think, don't react," Michael muttered to himself, staying focused. His goal wasn't to overpower them—it was to outlast them and force them to retreat.

The leader growled in frustration, stepping forward to confront Michael directly. "You're tougher than you look, but this ends now."

Michael ducked under the swing of the leader's cutlass, using the momentum to push him off balance. He grabbed a coil of rope and looped it around the man's wrist, pulling it tight to disarm him. The cutlass clattered to the deck, and Michael kicked it overboard.

"Enough," Michael said, his voice firm. "Take your crew and leave."

The leader glared at him, his chest heaving. "This isn't over."

"It is if you want to keep what little you've got left," Michael replied, his expression unyielding.

The leader hesitated, then barked a command to his crew. "Back to the ship!"

The pirates retreated, grumbling as they crossed back onto their own vessel. Within minutes, the black-sailed ship was pulling away, its crew shouting curses and threats as they disappeared over the horizon.

Michael leaned against the mast, catching his breath. The deck was a mess, but the sloop was intact. Most importantly, Lia was safe. He opened the hatch, and she climbed out, her face pale with worry.

"Are you okay?" she asked.

"I'm fine," Michael said, giving her a reassuring nod. "They're gone."

She looked around at the scattered debris on the deck. "You didn't let them take anything."

"No," Michael said. "And I don't plan to."

Lia hesitated, then said, "I… I want to be able to help next time. I don't want to just hide."

Michael placed a hand on her shoulder, his gaze steady. "You're already helping, Lia. But you're not ready for this yet. And that's okay. We'll keep training. When the time comes, you'll know what to do."

She nodded, her determination clear. "I'll keep working hard."

Michael smiled faintly. "Good. Now, let's clean up and get moving. We've got a long way to go."

As the sloop sailed into the fading light of the day, Michael felt a renewed sense of purpose. He had protected what mattered and proven, once again, that they could face the challenges ahead. Together, they would find their strength.

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