Disclaimer: I don't own it.
I've been wanting to write a fanfic dedicated to Moby-Dick, because I've had the idea to do so for a long time. If you do not agree with my writing or interpretation, feel free to let me know; I am always looking forward for a chance to learn more from my errors.
Second, this is fiction. I tried to find out more about Japanese whaling history and methods, but I could not find very little about Japanese whaling methods. What I did find did not suit my purposes so I just chucked the idea of being historically accurate out the window and consulted Moby-Dick for whaling methods.
Prologue
Call me Fuji. Some months ago, it entered my mind to behind my loving family and test the firmness of my wings; that rashness of youth, which only consumes the minds of the young and the foolish. I suppose I am both: out of all the occupations I could have chosen to pursue my fate, I deliberately chanced upon whaling. My father, when he was still alive, was a whaleman. In those days, there were still no foreigners in Japan and whales were still plentiful along the coasts, especially in our native Katsuyama (1). Back then, father told me, all you would have to do is prepare a large net, herd the whales into the net, and harpoon them to make a large profit, but with the recent influx of these foreign whalemen, the number of whales along the Japanese coast has declined. The only way for Japanese whalers to compete with these foreigners is by copying their methods.
I, myself, have no great interest in whaling; it had formed the yarns of excitement in that bygone youth spent in front of my mother's cooking fire, but now I seek the whales of those old tails so I can venture into the world, or so I had hoped. It seems I chosen the wrong ship: there is nothing new about the Seishun (2) save perhaps its name – the gleaming ivory whale bones that decorated the ship from prow to stern certainly did not impress youthful chills in my spine. Perhaps, it was the mystique of this proud, ironic vessel that drew me onboard along with my bosom friend, Eiji, to sign our lives away for the next three years.
The Seishun is modeled after those monstrous foreign ships, complete with three large poles fitted with thick, white sheets puffing dejectedly as though it mourned for its crew (3). If the Seishun was a strange sight in a Japanese harbor, her crew was equally as strange in that Japanese port. Onboard the Seishun was more people than even Tokyo (4) when the foreigners come to call: people with skin as black as the bottom of a pot, people with hair the colour of a karp's scales, people with voices that crack and boom like foreign fire weapons, people as tall as the old willow tree growing in my back yard, and people so strange words fail to describe them.
Stranger yet were some of my own countrymen, like the third mate, Echizen. A short, stout, and smirking fellow, very pugnacious about hunting whales, who seemed to carry a hereditary grudge against whales so deep that he found it his duty to destroy all of the poor creatures who dare to cross his path. In his eyes, a whale was no different from a field mouse, requiring only a little circumvention, some time and trouble, and a careless "made made dane" to kill and boil. For Echizen, his only purpose was to kill whales; he had no fear of them, only a love of the chase.
Then, there is the first mate, Sengoku. Lucky, we all call him, or rather happy-go-lucky. He was a simple fellow who lived to hunt whales. There was no danger so great in the industry that could shake his calm, good-humored attitude. Not even death could shake the cheerful smile off Sengoku's lips. He seemed to sit daringly on the open jaws of death without a care or notice. If Death came for him tomorrow, I am sure Sengoku would just laugh and invite the deity out for a drink.
The first mate, Oishi, is different from both the second and third mates in that he is a careful man by nature. Looking to his eyes, one can see a tempered calmness that can only be detected in the soul of one who has bear witness to much peril and survived. Oishi is superstitious; in the manner of one who is wary of that which he cannot control rather than the complete ignorance of a provincial. Having been tested by dangers that would have broken greater men, Oishi tempered by both fear and bravery; he thought it a greater asset to fear the great whale and find the courage to overcome that fear; and he would have no man on his boat that did not have an ounce of fear.
The most intriguing man of all is Captain Tezuka, the grim, grizzled pilot of our craft. He had, some years before, lost his left arm from the upper arm down to the jaws of the White Whale, Atobe Keigo. It is said that Atobe Keigo had taken Captain Tezuka's left arm after the captain had just stabbed his barbed iron into the broad white side of the whale. Tezuka was rescued by his shipmates but his left arm could not be saved; during the stormy winter passage of ship's voyage, it is believed that the captain had been visited by the devil while tossing and turning in his agony filled dream. By some miracle, Captain Tezuka had survived that whale hunt and he seeks now for Atobe Keigo to avenge his lost arm and fallen pride.
1 Village in Chiba famous for coastal whaling.
2 I understand the kanji for Seishun to mean "youth."
3 In Asian cultures, white is commonly the mourning colour.
4 Edo was renamed Tokyo in 1868.
Sorry, if the characters seemed somewhat OC, I tried my best to mix the characters of Moby-Dick with those of Prince of Tennis. I also apologize for making Atobe Moby Dick, but it was the perfect role for him, afterall it is the title role.