Dock Sequence

The lacquered chest creaked open. The faint light of the shrine lanterns catching the golden coins inside. Her fingers trembled as they closed around the bag, the cool metal biting into her skin.

"Do not steal."

The words burned in her mind. She’d already failed even that. You'd have to try to fail the commandments. 

The floorboards groaned behind her. She froze.

"Hoshino? What are you doing?"

Hoshino didn’t answer. Couldn’t answer. Her feet moved on their own, her body jerking toward the door, faster, faster.

“Stop her!”

The slam of the shoji door, the hurried thud of footsteps, the rising pitch of her mother’s cries—

—The gangway trembled under her small, hurried steps. Each clank of the iron vibrated up her legs. The salty sea air clawed at her lungs. 

The ship loomed above, its enchanted hull humming faintly. Like the metal was alive with shimmering sigils that pulsed like a heartbeat.

She didn’t look back. She couldn’t.

Her hands clutched the heavy bag at her side.

\\

A whistle shrieked above her, pulling her from the memory like a slap to the face. She stumbled onto the deck, the gangway retracting behind her with a metallic groan. The ship was alive—crew shouting, passengers milling about, the faint hum of the enchanted engine vibrating underfoot.

Her legs wobbled beneath her as she staggered to the railing. She gripped it with trembling hands, and she swore her knuckles was turning white with how hard it was to remain still.

Her fingers brushed the pouch of coins tucked against her side. Good. Still on her. She'd heard of the pickpockets and conmen out here, but she hadn't seen any yet.  

No use here, anyway. No food to buy. Only the bitter taste of her choices to swallow.

Another one of ship’s whistles ripped her from her reverie. The gangway groaned, and the crowd behind her surged forward like a living thing, desperate to reach solid ground.

Hoshino was caught in the crush immediately. She couldn't breathe.

“DON'T PUSH!”

“STOP PUSHING!”

“Calm down!!!”

She didn’t know what the words meant, but she didn't need to analyze too hard to know it was distress. She surged forward anyway, her small frame shoving through gaps where she could find them.

Someone’s elbow hit her ribs hard enough to make her gasp.

Another knocked her shawl loose. She scrambled to keep hold of her purse, the bag of coins inside clinking faintly like a cruel taunt.

Her foot caught on the edge of the gangway, and she stumbled. Her knees hit the ground, splinters biting into her skin. The noise was deafening. Too many voices. Too many faces!

“MOVE, DAMN YOU!”

She gritted her teeth, clutching the rosary beneath her shawl. The beads pressed against her palm, and she pushed herself up.

There! A gap in the wall of bodies! Her tiny face peeked through it, peeked through the curtains.

Then—strong hands. Around her waist. She gasped.

A man hoisted her high, like she weighed nothing. A big man. A Scandinavian one. Looked like a cross between a yeti and a human.

“Up you go, little Chinawoman!” His voice rumbled like a distant storm. No malice. Just unadulterated joy entirely unbefitting his form. Finally, something she recognized too—China. 

Ah. People out here did not know to differentiate. She didn’t have the heart to correct him. Not when she'd make the bigger fool if she attempted to speak and ruin the moment.

He grinned wide, teeth flashing through his beard, and turned her toward the horizon. “You must see!”

The Statue of Liberty. There it was. Rising above the water like something sacred. Her heart beat fast. Words caught in her throat.

It glowed faintly on the horizon. The Lady held a torch alive with runes that pulsed in the dusk. To commemorate their ongoing partnership, she learned. And, probably most importantly, symbolize the help the US supplied when France was in dire need.

It was glorious. Overwhelming. Beauty personified. It was...

Hoshino’s face crumpled in her hands. 

The weight in her chest, the weight that throbbed and ached so bad had finally caught up,  grabbed her by the waist and exploded.

The bag slipped from her shoulder, hitting the deck with a dull thud. The beads dug into her palm.

She was alive.

She’d made it.

Father hadn’t.

The ship lurched, and she sank lower, her forehead pressing against the cool iron of the rail. Around her, the passengers moved on, their voices blending into a distant hum. She could hear the faint laughter of children, the gruff shouts of crewmen.

She had half a mind that she was going to go deaf from these people. She wanted to scream. That sweaty, filthy man clutching her like a doll. So brazen, so uncouth. 

Her clothes were dirty and tattered and entirely unbefitting of one her station—

She caught herself. Her social status didn’t mean anything here. No, not in the City of Opportunity. Of freedom. Of everyone being able to become their own lord and lady.

Then, just as quickly, he set her down. His massive hand patted her shoulder, leaving a lingering warmth.

“Beautiful, eh?” He laughed. “You’ll remember this day. A good one! TO NEW BEGINNINGS!”

The crowd responded in kind.

"TO NEW BEGINNINGS!!"

\\

Hoshino froze but didn’t turn around. She doesn't answer. Her feet moved, carrying her toward the harbor, faster and faster.

“Stop her!” The sound of running footsteps, the slam of a shoji door sliding open too hard—

“Leave her be.” She paused, turning back. Father?

When she finally turned to look, her father stood in the courtyard. His head bowed. Her mother’s face was a storm of fury and pain. Tears streaked her cheeks, her hands clenched into fists.

No. No. They will find out. They will know!

“You’ve stolen my daughter!” she spat. “You took her from me. From our family. And for what? For your foreign god?”

Hoshino’s breath caught as imperial officers stormed through the gates. Her mother didn’t flinch. Her father met Hoshino’s eyes one last time.

“Run.”

\\

When her feet finally hit the dock, she dropped to her knees. The bag on her back secure enough. Her tears had already dried in the wind.

The ground should have felt solid, steady, but it didn’t. It swayed, dipped, pitched beneath her like she was still on the cursed sea. Her forehead pressed to the damp wood as her fingers clutched the rosary, trembling and cold. The beads dug into her palm.

“No, no, no! The shifting map’s too complicated! You think Americans want to solve riddles just to get to Fifth Avenue?”

She squinted, looking toward the direction of the argument.

“But the screaming map’s too much!” another voice snapped back. “You sell that in New York, you’ll be run out of town in a week!”

She blinked, her vision blurring as a dockworker stomped past her, hauling a trunk that glowed faintly with flickering runes. It growled—a low, guttural sound like some caged animal. He kicked it hard enough to make the runes spark.

“Bloody charm’s worn thin,” he muttered, the words rolling over themselves in her mind. “Everything in America’s got magic, they said. Won’t need us hauling trunks anymore, they said. Load o’ shit.”

She pressed her hands to the ground, trying to rise, but the world tilted again. The voices kept cutting through her haze.

“Magic is freedom!” someone roared.

She glanced toward the bow of the ship. A preacher in patched robes was speaking to a group of weary passengers. His hands lifted skyward. The runes stitched into his robe glimmered faintly in the fading light. “The soul’s fire burns bright here—no king, no empire, no fear!”

The words twisted and blurred in her ear. English, Portuguese, other languages she couldn’t place—it all melted together into a stew of incomprehensible syllables.

Her father had called this place free, but what kind of freedom looked like this? What kind of freedom sounded so loud, so harsh?

She tried to steady herself, tried to push herself upright, but the dock swayed again.

The voices around her grew sharper, the world tilting and spinning until all she could hear was her father’s voice, faint and far away.

“Run.”

And so she did—up and forward.

First things first, and she had a long, long time to think about this: she needed a new currency called 'dollars'.