Black Dove
Pairing: Ameripan
Summary: When life finally feels like it's at it's worse, there's that one beacon of light that keeps you sane. As Kiku endures the many hardships of a sea captive, he finds one thing-one person-that makes every situation seem a little less horrible.

Chapter One

Innocence is the one thing that seems to define a child perfectly. Pure, goodness, light. They bounce off of what they know, and do wrongly only if they don't know better. They can't be blamed for their mistakes, it was the way they were guided. I refused to follow the path that I was being guided along. Even as a child, I knew better; I wanted to preserve my innocence. I wanted to stay a child, but the invaders gave me no chance.

I sat in the garden outside of my house, my bare feet padding along the smooth stones that bordered the small pond full of colourful fish. They amused me. The colours, their swimming patterns, but I especially loved the little ripples they made along the surface of the pond, when they're tiny mouths broke through the liquid seal to suck the air. I could sit by the pond all day, and only leave when mother called me in for meals. That was my plan for this very day, but my plans were cut short quickly.

"Kiku!"

My head turned slowly towards mother's voice, and I blinked at its tone. She sounded worried, panicked even, but I couldn't grasp why. The sky was beautiful, a bright blue and cloudless, the garden was full of colours and life; everything seemed perfect in my eyes. But they couldn't be. Not with that look that mother wore on her normally beautifull face, not when she ran towards me so quickly, scooping me into her arms, and taking off. I didn't know where we were going, and I knew not to ask silly questions. Father must've left too, because he didn't follow.

He wouldn't stay in a house that was on fire.

Needless to say, I was confused, but I still found it wasn't my place to ask questions. I kept quiet as mother ran through the trees, my eyes only glimpsing at our surrounding village, flooding with fire just like that of which engulfed the house we ran from. People screamed, and I wondered who was the fool who made the fire spread. Who was responsible for destroying our village? Surely they would be punished for their wrong-doings. The thought of our garden came to mind, and I hoped to whatever higher power that it remained safe, despite the monster of mass destruction that was set on killing everything in its path. Someone had to watch over the fish, to take care of the flowers, to play with the fluttering butterflies as they danced around the colourful flowers, tempting them to be brighter than their wings.

My small hands covered my ears as a loud explosion erupted through my village, and I could feel my eyes water with knowledge that our garden was ruined. Father wouldn't ba happy about that. He worked so hard on making it beautiful for mother and I. He worked hours on end, planting the flowers, shining the rocks, and collecting the koi to swim around in the crystal water. I don't think I've ever seen father cry, but surely he would after he saw such chaos.

Mother ran faster into the trees, until we were finally surrounded by silence. She was tired, so I thought we would stop for a while and rest after she set me down, but I was wrong. Taking my hand, she pulled me along in the direction we were heading, her body hunched slightly, her breathing shallow.

"Mother, rest." I tugged on her hand, looking up at her with my wide brown eyes.

"We need to go on, Kiku. Come on." She pulled me along. "Hurry."

I followed of course. Whenever I disobeyed mother, father would get angry. I didn't want to make him any angrier than he would be when he saw our garden. I wish she would tell me where we were going though. It would be late soon, and father always said not to venture into the forest, especially not when the sky was dark. When would we turn back around and go home? The village must've put out the fire by now, the fool who set it on fire would surely be punished by now. Why were we still leaving?

There was an opening up ahead, and mother pulled me through it. We were greeted by the warm, open, orange light of afternoon glistening against the blue-green waves of the ocean. She walked me onto the beach, towards the water's edge, her head looking around anxiously. Was it mother who set fire to the village? Was that why we were making our escape? She knew father would be angry with her about the garden and our house, so she needed us to leave. It would've made sense if mother wasn't so cautious. She would never start such a fire.

She knelt beside me, undoing the bag she wore around her shoulders, and pulled it so it rested around mine. I looked up at her, feeling sad as I saw her bright eyes start to water. Mother was beautiful, like the many flowers of our garden, and I didn't like when she cried. She was strong, her and father made me brave to feel strong too, but when they showed weakness, I felt weak too. I didn't like this feeling.

"Don't cry now," she scolded softly, wiping away my own fresh tears with her thumb. "You need to be strong."

"Yes, mother."

"You mustn't look back when you leave either, Kiku. Don't turn back. Ever. You need to move on, you need to get safe."

"Yes, mother."

The way she looked at me made my chest ache, and when she wrapped her arms around my small body, I felt like a baby and wished to cry. But I had to stay strong for mother, and I couldn't ask questions. I couldn't ask her why she said these things. Wasn't she coming with me? I couldn't ask why father wasn't here, or why it wasn't okay to turn back. Safe from what? But I stayed quiet, my arms moving to hug her back, my chin laying on her shoulder. It felt like years when she finally pulled back and stood to her full height, walking back towards the forest. I stared at where she left, my heart sinking upon thinking that was it. That that was goodbye and I was left on my own, abandoned for doing something I didn't know what. When she returned with a wooden object, I felt eased slightly, watching her every move like the scared child that I was.

"Go far away." She said tearfully, taking my hand and walking me to sit in the mockery of a boat. "Be strong, my Kiku. I love you."

I nodded, not trusting myself to speak. If I was to remain strong, I couldn't cry. Not in front of her. She removed a chain from around her neck, and put it around mine, leaving me with a simple kiss over top of the hair covering my forehead, then pushing me out towards the sea to drift; confused, clueless, and hiding my fear. I had to stay strong for mother. Now, I had no choice.

Wading out to see on a small, wooden plank, I sat up straight and stared straight ahead, trying not to think, not to look back. I knew, that if I turned, I would still be able to see mother waiting at the shore, watching me. I also knew that I would lack strength to continue with my assignment if I looked back and saw her, even if she was just a rough outline of what I knew her to be. This was hard, a really hard choice for a child to make, and yet I was stuck with it. I couldn't disobey her, and I was as afraid of the open sea around me as I was to return back home. My mind told me that it was more than just a fire, it had to be if I had to leave like this. Without mother or father, without wishing father goodbye. But I couldn't dig into what could've happened to upset the village to much, that was so bad that I had to seek refuge out at the open sea, alone.

Undoing the bag around my shoulders, I lifted the fabric to see what I had. Pieces of bread, a jar of water, and my favourite sweets. I took one of the sweets and pushed it to the side of my cheek, re-wrapping the bag and tying it back up, folding my hands on my lap and looking ahead. I saw nothing but water. When I glanced over the side of the boat, I thought maybe I would see fish, like those that swam in my pond, but it was too dark to try to see. It was almost too dark to do anything. Eventually, I curled up on the make-shift boat and closed my eyes, the vast sky full of stars, and the large, bright moon didn't interest me now, like when father would come back, set me on his lap, and show me the different stars in our beautiful garden. They didn't matter to me when I was alone, out at sea.

I wanted mother.

My small hands that were folded towards my chest clasped against my heart where the pendant from mother's chain rested. I pulled it from beneath the coller of my shirt and clicked open the locket. There were no pictures inside, of mother, father, or myself. Nothing but the barely able to be seen characters engraved in the hallow, silver inside.

"I love you."

Father gave it to mother before I was born, and for as long as I can recollect, I never saw her without it. And now it was passed to me. I couldn't understand though. How could mother love me if I did something so wrong to be punished like this? To be sent away on my own, along the open ocean, just a child. My supplies were few and would last me only so many days, but the ocean was so vast, I would be traveling forever. The sun would be so hot when the moon went to sleep.

The sun rose above my curled up form four times before I started to give up. My water jar was near empty, and father told me never to drink water from the sea. The bread had gone stale days before, hard as a rock, but I had to eat it to sustain myself. Not as though there was much left of it anyway. The sweets were few, one or two, and I was scared that I was running low on supplies, that I would soon turn to dust from lack of.. Everything. My stomach grumbled with hunger as I started longingly at my remaining supplies, but they had to last me. Even a child such as I knew that I couldn't survive without them. I needed to survive.

I closed my eyes to resist temptation, and within a matter of minutes, although it could've been longer, I was being wrenched from my fetal position and forced to stand and stretch my legs, eyes glazing around at an unfamiliar place. There were men walking around, dressed in off clothes. Many wore some sort of stripped pattern, others had cloths partially covering their heads, patches over their eyes, wooden things where their legs should be, and one man even had a hook where his hand was meant to be. My child self was frightened horribly, but as mother told me, I hid my fear. I would be brave for her. Brave for my mother.

"Hm, and wot's it we've got here?"

Turning a bit clumsily, I saw a man much taller than myself. Beneath his large, feathered hat, he had a dirty blond coloured hair, with eyes that were so green, but narrowed. On his face sat a smile, but it was a strange smile. And unfamiliar smile, as though he didn't mean it. His posture was odd, his hand on his hip, holding over his long, Scarlett jacket, right over where the sheath for his sword was. He was intimidating, scary. Father told me not to make assumptions about people, but this man gave me a bad feeling.

Suddenly drifting alone along the ocean didn't seem like the worst place to be.