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He was four when his mother died from the plague, and they threw her body over the boat. His father was the captain, and he loved her so much, he took the death hard. He drank every day, drank every night, passed out many times, and the more he drank the more belligerent he became.

"Mingi," he slurs one night, patting his lap and allowing his small son to climb in his lap as he chugs the rest of his wine, burping loudly afterwards, "One of these days, the ship will be yours my boy. No one else's but yours. Which is why we're going to teach you how to fight with fists and swords."

He was beaten many times, and received many scars from sword wounds, until finally when he was thirteen he was practically a pro and undefeated. His father has even battled him, and Mingi defeated him.

He was twenty when his father had fallen ill, puking up blood and so weak he can barely walk. Mingi sat by his bed on the evening he died, listening to his father take raged breaths and struggles to breath them in. Every time he does, he coughs and spits up blood. Mingi would wipe it clean with his blanket, until his father pointed to the dagger.

"I don't want to die to a fucking disease," he grumbles, "I'd rather die under a blade."

Mingi frowns, looking at his father in disbelief, "I'm not killing you."

"You want to remember your father like this? Dying slowly thanks to this fucking-" he throws himself into a coughing fit, sitting up and coughing up blood on the fur blankets. Mingi frowns, waiting until he's finished before he groans and sits back. His father looks at him with pride, "My one and only child, my son, I'm very proud of the person you have become. And with this, I give ye my ship and you shall have all of my gold coins. I want you to fuck lots of women, men, and kill those that wrong you. I want you to sail from sea to sea, until you find Utopia."

He coughs again more weakly, Mingi's eyes felt like they were burning as he tried not to shed a single tear. He hears a chuckle, "You have your mother's heart. Kind, loving. But now is not to time to be kind and loving boy. Now is the time to take what you want, fuck who you want, drink what you want. Live your life to the fullest."

Mingi nods, "I will father."

"Do your old man a favor," he grumbles, pointing to his cup, "One last drink before you shove that dagger in my heart. I'd rather die in your hands than in any of those nasty bastards out there."

Mingi takes in a deep breath, handing his father the golden jeweled cup he drank from the last bit of wine they had in the cup. Once it was gone, he nods, laying back and closing his eyes, "Do you know where the heart is?"

"Yeah," Mingi whispers, "I know."

"Don't miss," his father grumbles.

And that was the last words he had spoken to his son that night. He pierced the dagger deep into his father's heart. Waiting until the soul left his eyes before his lip wobbles. He laid his head on his father's chest, sobbing quietly to himself.

The next morning, he wrapped his father's body in the blankets on his bed, having two of the crew members throw him over into the ocean. They set sail once more, everyone directed Mingi as their captain and the blue haired man directed them towards Utopia.

They travel for almost a year, past dangerous waters and even had an encounter with a giant squid, but Mingi's crew kept sailing. One evening, he dropped the anchors for them to rest, everyone passes out from either being drunk or from exhaustion.

He had just fallen asleep in his father's quarters when he hears what sound like a dagger slicing through flesh. He wakes instantly, sitting up in bed and looks for his own dagger, but curses when he can't find it. The door to his cabin opens, and Mingi stands, "What the fuck!?"

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