Kuyoku D. Daya

Setting where he grew up:
Near the outskirts of a small town located between the sunset and the ocean, on top of a sand bed lay a cottage. Large rolling hills, fields of wheat, and clear skies with few, light clouds were plenty, and peace existed there hand in hand with the happiness of the people. The water, in a lulling motion, washed up on the beach while the cows and small animals grazed on the cascading slopes of airy green. A small, wooden fence trailed on the cliffs, leading into the quiet, sleeping village. Painted a mild yellow color with wooden frames, the buildings all blended tranquilly into the backdrop. A familiar smell of fresh, salty air added to the ambiance, as the town was less than a mile from the sea with a connecting path of a fence and a dusty, winding trail.

Around 500 people lived there, and in their own rite, they were infinite. With abundant farmland, hordes of livestock, and natural resources nearby, the only thing to possibly worry about was the stray chance of being hit by a violent storm. This summer, however, there was not one day where it had rained. At night, if you sat on a hill and stared up into the swirling night sky, the stars would radiate and look back at you with a reassuring complexion. The wind would tickle your nose, and be off on an uncharted journey.

A normal day in his early life:
Near an old windmill, turning as far as the people of the town could remember, lay a blanket with a hay basket on top. Rich, summer foods such as juicy, pink watermelon, various cut sandwiches, and a pitcher of ice cold lemonade were strewn on top, and the sun was cast down upon this scene with a warm, fuzzy glow. A small dog lay curled up on it, basking in the breeze the sea, only two hundred feet away, gently blew. Standing up on the nearest hill, the portrait of three figures could be made out, each smiling and laughing.

The first was a man of about six feet, with tanned skin and black hair. He wore a robe of tattered brown, and had a beaming smile that reflected his youthful and carefree personality. A twig of wheat stuck through his teeth, as he chewed on the stub of it habitually. Next to him, in the middle of the three, a small boy of four or so stood with a content smile on his face, staring out into the horizon. He had black hair, excited eyes, and overalls to contrast his light, fair skin. His hands on his sides, he also had a twig of wheat sticking out of his mouth, trying to be just like his dad. On the right, around five foot five, stood a brown haired lady with a blue dress with a worn, green bow on the back. She looked wholesome, smiling, and laughing at the childish ways of her husband and son. Her green eyes were fickle, and would turn to golden-brown at times, radiating the light behind her restful soul.

"Say, ma', race you to the cliffs!". The boy took off, letting go of his parents safety. He ran forward, down a massive hill with dancing grass and a wide smile on his face, looking up to the free, blue and patchy white sky.

"Yoku! Kuyoku, wait!", the mother shouted in a carefree tone. Giggling, she held the hand of her husband and chased after the good-spirited boy, watching his figure run up a steep hill, and seeing him finally stop at the top of it. The child put his fists to his hips, and looked straight out in the distance. Not hearing his parents behind him, the boy yelled, at the top of his little lungs....

"No regrets, into the adventure, Master Kuyoku of the Town on the Hill! Re-neg-ade rogue, savior of the weak! Feared by the rich! Space explorer! Musician, rider of sea monsters!". The black haired kid raised his fist into the sky, and put the other at his waist. "Feared pirate of the ocean! Loved by the wome---", said the boy before slipping on the matted grass and rolling down the hill towards the cliff on the ocean. Head over knee, Kuyoku tumbled, looking like a ball of dirty grass and mud, and bumped right into the back of a tree with his butt up and his head in the dirt.

Not a single worry crossed his mind! The young explorer jumped right back up, and puts his hand against the single tree perched on a dirt-patched-cliff above the wild ocean. He stood there, looked into the unending parallel in front of him, and screamed,

"WAHOOOOOO!!!!!!". He grinned proudly, put his other hand on his hip.

"Yoku, buddy, are you alright?!", exclaimed his dad, running up from behind him, spitting out the twig in his mouth, panting. "We heard shouting after you rolled off the hill! We thought you fell--...fell off the cliff!". His dad rustled the boys hair, grinning with a suspicious look on his face. "Yoku, the grand explorer, right?!".

Kuyoku blushed, and squinted his eyes. He smirked mischievously to himself, and kicked a rock off the edge. "That coul'da been me, pa'! Even if it wuz, I woulda flown like a big, island bird!".

The child's mother walked up from the other side of the tree, closed her eyes, and smiled calmly at Kuyoku. "A grand bird, Kuyoku. A bird bigger than those at the islands, even bigger than the ones from the forests!", she said, inspiring the hopeful boy. His eyes lit up, and a large circle formed with his mouth, closing and opening in awe.

"First, yoku", the dad said in a humble tone, "you need to finish cleaning the garden!". He laughed, and soothingly flicked Kuyoku's forehead. The black-haired boy furrowed his brow, and ruffled up his nose, blushing even more.

"I'll prove it to you, old man!", Kuyoku challenged. He giggled, walked a bit further near the cliff. He looked up into the sky again, smiled, and sat down on hit butt. His father chuckled, and Kuyoku grinned back at him. His parents followed suit, soon sitting next to the boy, putting their arms around him. The seagulls cooed loudly, riding the clouds into the distance. The splashing noise of the ocean hitting the rocks below echoed around the shoreline, and the tree behind where the family sat began to let off a few leaves, allowing them to sail into the sun.

Ten minutes later, realizing they had left their lunch by the windmill, they stood up, and made their way to the blanket in the shade.

Every summer of his childhood:

As the summers progressed, the carefree Kuyoku delved through the stories and tall tales of his mother and father. After countless hours spent under the blooming sky, he befriended the generous sun and was a usual guest in the halls of the spectral entity called night. Raggedy haired with a twig locked in his teeth at all times, the wild boy chopped down trees with sticks, beat up trespassing livestock such as villain cows and criminal sheep, and even managed to create a kingdom within the reaches of his garden. At the sign of dawn each morning, Kuyoku had already climbed his way to the peaks of the green mountains, constructed massive bark ships to conquer the uncharted seas, and built bomb shelters for the local tribe of squirrels. As the king of his imagination, he was invincible. No milkman, mailman, or any man for the matter of fact stood in his way.

When the bulging ball of magma began to sink over the yields of the horizon, the boy would run along the coast and fling his tiny, dirt-ridden hands into the air, screaming "I'm the King of the World!" until he collapsed on the bed of the warm, layered sand. Looking up, he would wait until the sky fell and a whole new spectrum of color would emerge. Like wreathing green and blue snakes in the air, patterns would light up in the night, showing Kuyoku the capability of his dreams. After considering his options of building a ship and sailing to the moon or burrowing underneath the sea to form a tunnel, Kuyoku would fall asleep, captivated by the constellations.

As time's hand grew empty, the summer began to fade away, welcoming Autumn. The trees started to transform into a mess of crisp orange and burnt red, signaling the final days of the season. All was well.

The night before he left the island:

When the sun fell on the outskirts of the sleepy town, the lights dimmed inside of the cottage, flickering on and off with a mild pattern. All at once, the power went out. Five minutes later, dancing flames could be seen through the windows, resting on the tips of candles.

Kuyoku, tucked under the comforts of his white blanket and a few warm sheets, lay in bed. Being on the second floor, a slight ocean breeze would waft through his room as if it were a phantom ferry, slowly wading across a river. Unable to sleep, the young boy rustled his sheets in attempt to stop the itching that had started due to the cold, dry sweat forming on the border between his shirt and skin. It was 1 AM, and his window was wide open, exposing him to the view of the now black sky and the still ocean. Only a few stars were up that night, and the clouds in the distant expanse began to culminate, bouncing off of each other, slowly drifting towards the town. A single candle rested upon his windowsill, the flame rocking back and forth with the howling wind.

He sat up, scratching the back of his neck. He put his arms down, adjusted his sheets a bit, and stepped off of his bed. The wooden, corroded floor squealed timidly when he landed on it, so the boy had to move with small steps in an effort to not wake his parents asleep in the room below. Reaching towards his bed stand, he picked up a warm glass of water with condensation on the edges of it, and took a small sip. Setting it down with caution, he reared towards the window and put his hands on the frames. At first, he looked down, watching the waves crash perfectly onto the mess of rocks at the bottom of the cliff. The cold wind played with his locks of hair, causing them to wave onto his forehead, and slightly to the sides of his ears. The moon, nearly full tonight, cast an ominous glare onto the seaside town. Kuyoku stared up into it, and furrowed his brow. For him, at least, he had never seen the moon so large. It looked as if a giant had stood up, knees at the brink of the ocean, and carefully painted the scene. Not paying too much attention to it, the small boy, glowing in the moonlight, stepped back into the creaky backdrop which was his room and fell back into his bed.

The wind, singing him a drowsy lullaby, tempted him into the realm of sleep. His eyes closed....

--As time goes on, I will reveal why he left etc--

The day of departure:

On that shining, summer day, all that was recorded in Kuyoku's journal is how he had finally constructed a small, small ship, and had sailed away from his home island in the East Blue. Rumor has it that he ended up getting caught by the marines shortly after, but managed to escape.

This is where Kuyoku's story really starts.