Standard Disclaimer Applies.
| [A Million Pieces of Eight] |
Chapter I: The Sharpened Cutlass
By Miasmic
It was anything but a regular cloudy day for the inhabitants of Port Rotunda. The sailors, after longs hours of persistence, were dejectedly docking their ships to head back home, knowing all too well that today's failure would account for tomorrow's income, and that it would also accrue in some frighteningly angry wives. Merchants and shoppers were steadily preparing themselves for the oncoming storm, promenading down the dirt roads and packing away goods. Everyone seemed in distress except for one old man who didn't seem to mind the moistening air and the threatening sky. He sat along a dock, barely visible behind the stacks of cargo and stray barrels, a long fishing rod in hand and a carefree grin plastered on his white bearded face. No one knew why he was always there— every day, nearly— and still none have dared to question it, for fear of him being mad. It wasn't like the man was bothering anyone; he was just peculiar. No normal person did what he did on a regular basis.
But today wasn't a regular cloudy day.
And the old man was the first to realize this.
In the distance, on the horizon, a tiny black dot appeared. It wasn't until the dot had come closer that the old man tipped his straw hat up further to take a gander. There, not too far, was a ship, and a large one at that. Its sails were pitch black and atop it flew a banner flaunting a symbol. He squinted at the vessel, deducing that it was a military ship, most likely. Only, military ships had no black sails.
The old man carried on gazing at the object, watching as it drew closer and closer and closer until finally, the insignia of the flag became clear, disproving his former thoughts and causing the thin piece of wheat he had been chewing to fall from his agape mouth into the waves below.
"Pirates," He hissed, gathering up his things hurriedly and rushing off the dock. Curious stares were aimed at his back as he stumbled away, only to be sated when a young boy called their attention to the ocean, pointing at the object of panic.
"Look look! Pirates!" He acknowledged, a gleeful smile on his tiny lips. His mother hushed him, faintly wondering why he knew what a pirate's flag looked like, let alone why it excited him. The boy's statement gradually caused a murmur of dread among the lingering citizens, some already heading home and others now making plans to.
Port Rotunda never got pirates. Ever.
By the time the ship docked the streets were empty; wastelands. Not a sound was heard nor a soul seen, and if perhaps there had been no wind present, a pin drop would seem deafening. Not even the slightest bit affected by the scene, the pirates laid a bridge down to the dock and filed out— shoved out, rather— raucously, making the terrified townspeople peek through the cracks of their shutters. A man, standing at the very exit of the ship gave orders to the crew. He was a very handsome fellow, with hair so raven black that it nearly matched the sails, and his face, in contrast to his hair, was pale and smooth; flawless yet angled. The white, loosely sleeved shirt was open at the collar, revealing a toned chest. Atop that he bore a brown vest which, also unbuttoned at the collar, fell mid-thigh, fastened at the waist with a leather belt. Clad in regular navy trousers tucked below the knee into his boots, no one would have guessed that he was a pirate; all the more a Captain. To everyone who saw him, he was just a fit lad— probably of middle to lower class— who needed a bit of washing up. No pirate. No, he was too handsome to be a pirate.
And yet there he stood, commanding a crew, his crew, to be ready for departure at storm's end.
Still noisy, the crowd of pirates strolled into a nearby pub, taking seats at any empty tables they could find in the frozen room, while the Captain ambled over to the counter. His dark eyes met with the bartender's— a stocky man— causing him to halt in his glass cleaning.
"Rum," the Captain said, seating himself on one of the shaky stools, "For all of them, as well."
Immediately the stocky man sent his people to work as he himself poured the finest rum he could find for the Captain. He watched cautiously as his customer sniffed the goblet before gulping the liquid in one swig. A bead of sweat that had formed on his brow trickled down his temple, a slow breath of relief escaping through his nose. The Captain glanced up at him curiously, reaching for his belt and pulling out a knife.
"M-more rum, Sir?" the bartender asked, backing up a bit.
"No," the Captain said, repeatedly stabbing the wooden counter with what seemed to be boredom. He glanced up once again at the man, sensing the aura of fear radiating from not just him, but from the workers and non-pirate guests as well. This annoyed the Captain.
"What's your name?" He inquired, a bit forcefully. He halted his maiming of the wood, holding the knife tight.
"H-Hideki, Sir."
"Do you know who I am?"
"Yes, S-sir," the man said, more sweat dripping from his brow.
"Who?"
"You're a pirate. The one and only Cap'n Sasuke Uchiha."
It wasn't the man that had answered the question. Sasuke turned to his right— where the voice had come from—, a fury building in his chest at the person's eavesdropping. What he saw was a man in a large straw hat sitting calmly a few stools down. This man simply stared straight ahead, preventing the Captain from making clear eye contact.
"Yes," Sasuke said, now addressing both men, "I am Captain Sasuke Uchiha. The fiercest pirate in the world."
"Second fiercest, Cap'n. An' definitely the young'st," The straw hat man corrected, guzzling his spirits, still staring in front. Sasuke glowered at the man's profile as the bartender simply stood, baffled. The former drew his eyebrows together, voicing his confusion:
"Who's the first, if I may ask?"
"The Cap'n of the Seventeen Sails."
"There is no proof that the man even exists," Sasuke countered, suddenly having the urge to drink more rum, "For all any pirate knows, him, as well as that blasted ship, are only legend."
"No, the man exists, as be the ship."
"How do you know?" The bartender asked.
"'Cause I've seen 'im."
"Then I s'pose you've been to Davy Jones locker as well," Sasuke uttered with heavy sarcasm, "No one has seen him. No pirate, no man."
"Well that's 'cause 'e's too fast for ye, mate. They don't call 'er the Seventeen Sails for jest," the man chuckled, sipping more rum and wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, "Aye, I've seen 'er and 'im. Quite fast I reckon 'em being. Took buckets of time to catch with 'em too."
"You're a pirate." Sasuke stated blandly.
"No no, matey. Me was. Me ship and crew was destroyed in a terrible storm, and since I've sworn against piracy," the man cast his eyes down, frowning visibly before he quickly turned and stood, his back to Sasuke, "Well it was a pleasure chattin' with ye. Afraid I must take me leave."
Before the man disappeared, Sasuke caught sight of a small metal chain around his wrist, a bracelet of some sorts, with a charm linked loosely on. He couldn't make out what it was before the old straw hat man vanished just as quickly as he'd seem to appear, leaving in his trail a new air of curiosity that Sasuke couldn't help but inhale.
| (He's a Pirate) |
Sakura was in the sitting room when a dull commotion was heard from outside. Her mother, who was making a bit of herbal tea, shared a curious glance with her. What on earth could be so important at this hour? She stood, straightening her dress, a beautiful green garment that her mother had made on her own as a child, and opened the shutters. She couldn't see much past the rivers of pouring rain that loitered down the glass. And the strand of flower pink hair that fell from her enormous up-do only further poked at Sakura's raging interest. She turned to her mother, who was staring at her with those matching green eyes in wonder.
"Mother," she said, "May I go out to see what this ruckus is about?"
"Of course, dear," Her mother responded, pausing to lean forward and peek out the window from where she stood, "Mind the rain— I don't want you getting wet."
Sakura nodded, grabbing the parasol next to the coats and cracking the front door. The rain was like a heavy veil over the town, flooding the streets and urging people to flock indoors. Sakura opened her parasol, and stepped out carefully, lifting her dress from the ground with one hand. She called over a lady who had been rushing up the street, away from the market.
"Miss! Miss, excuse me!" She hollered, though none too unladylike. The woman, presumably middle-aged, hustled over to stand under the parasol's protection, "Would you mind explaining what's going on?"
"Pirates," the lady hissed, brown eyes wide and frantic, "Bolt your doors."
Without another word she took off, holding her hat against her head as the wind blew.
Sakura knotted her brows together and bit her lip, leisurely stepping back into her home. "Mother," she announced, a bit unsure, "One woman outside said something of pirates. I don't quick understa—"
"Pirates?!" Her mother squeaked, barreling toward the door and locking it, "The shutters, Sakura! Quickly now!"
Sakura did as told, watching her mother paced the sitting room with a terrified look on her face, forgetful of the warm cup of tea she had just poured herself. "But Mother, we've never had pirates here before. I'm sure this is a misunderstanding."
Her mother, who once was an elegant, beautiful creature, now looked mad, stressed lines marking her soft features. Sakura knew exactly why she was acting like this.
Not long after settling in Port Rotunda, Sakura's mother had met a wonderful, exquisite, yet peculiar, man— a man with many secrets, she soon realized. He wasn't of wealth, or of substantial social value, but Sakura's mother didn't care. She was more in love with him than she had ever been in her entire life. And he loved her too, supposedly. They became engaged, soon married, and then had planned on beginning a family.
But the wonderful man left unexpectedly; with a new love. The sea.
Sakura shrunk at the thought, wondering how a father could simply leave his family to become a bloody pirate. Hearing that story from her mother so long ago, hearing of the struggles she was afterward put through, invented a dream inside of Sakura that she would never admit to her mother. A resolve so outwardly foolish, yet so inwardly meaningful. So influential and life-changing…
Sakura wanted, against all odds, to find her father and bring him back home. She wanted the family she never had. For a long time, she never thought that this dream would come close to reality. Until today...
These pirates being in Port Rotunda, considering how rare it was, felt like a once in a lifetime opportunity— and one she couldn't pass up if she wanted to bring her father home.
Of course, if her mother ever discovered this goal, she may faint— but not before locking Sakura in some far away tower, a great distance from any body of water.
"Pirates are filthy, putrid, monsters!" Her mother bit out, still horrified at the news, "Regardless of whether this is the truth, I will not take chances!"
Sakura frowned, simply nodding her head and saying reluctantly, "Of course, Mother. I'll head to my bedroom then, it's likely safer there. I'm a bit tired anyway." Sakura didn't like lying to her mother— she wasn't all that tired and just needed time to think over her first move.
"Please do," her mother sighed, sitting down and rubbing her temple.
"It'll be alright, Mother," Sakura offered softly. She moved to gently squeeze her mother's hand, trying her best to ward off a frown. Not only did she hate seeing her mother like this, but she didn't dare imagine what she was about to put her through in the coming days and months. If she did, it would only weaken her resolve.
Sakura's mother glanced caringly into her daughter's eyes, her expression softening with unconditional and maternal love. Sakura's heart simultaneously filled and broke.
"Oh dear, I know," She nearly whispered, returning the squeeze, "Now head to bed, darling. I'll see you in the morning."
With a curt nod, Sakura scurried upstairs to her room. The inside of her cheek was beginning to swell— she had been biting it to suppress her tears.
Sakura was sure that the pirates wouldn't leave until the storm was passed. Although it seemed like a given, there were always bigheaded, foolhardy men that would attempt to take the sea anyway. This storm wasn't one that could be taken over, and at the least most sailors would wait for a full hour of favorable conditions before setting their course again. This information as something Sakura had gathered from the few spare parchments she managed to con off the port fishermen. She supposed this would give her at least until dawn— enough time to prepare her escape and create a plan. For a few moments, she was hesitant, remembering her mother and her inevitable fury, shock, and extreme grief upon reading the letter Sakura planned to leave in her place. But, Sakura reassured herself, it would all be for the better. She would arrive home with her father and she would be forgiven.
She hoped.
| (Yo Ho Yo Ho a Pirate's Life For Me) |
Sakura crept along the docks, bent over as she sneakily tip-toed toward the large pirate ship. The sky was clear and dark, the way it was directly before sunrise, and the air smelled of cold seawater. She adjusted the flamboyant bandana concealing her soft pink locks, making sure the hat on top was snug and hid the pile of hair underneath. Adorning her right eye was a patch— something that made her feel unusually and counter-productively vulnerable— and her pirate disguise was the least bit inconspicuous; just a few clothes she'd manage to scrounge up over the years. But it would have to do.
Once she reached the base of the ship's bridge Sakura hesitated, scanning the area for any silhouettes or movement. Should she really go along with this? She had been thinking over that nearly the entire journey there. She didn't dare question why the pirates hadn't left yet— the storm was long gone, giving them more than enough time. And although this was a blessing, she couldn't help but think of horrible scenarios that could come out her decision. What would happen to her mother? Once she found Sakura's letter in the morning, what would she do? How would she react?
And if Sakura failed, what would the pirates do to her? Would they bring her back to the docks?
Sakura shook away the guilt and anxiety, taking a slow step onto the bridge. The wood under her feet squeaked, begging her to be gentler. As she padded to the lower deck she took a moment to consider what this meant. There was no turning back now. It was dangerous to keep going, but Sakura accepted the risks this decision brought and knew there were no more chances for hesitation. Any minute the pirates would be up and at work. Her only problem now was finding the ladder that led to the crews' quarters. Since Sakura had little knowledge of pirate life, her search proved to be even harder. Where in the world would such a place be? Under the deck for sure, but how did they get there?
After nearly ten minutes of search and feel, about as quietly as the floorboards would allow, Sakura found a ladder near one of the masts. Gingerly she maneuvered down, creeping into an area dimly lit by a nearby lantern. The place was crowded with dirty, occupied hammocks, and Sakura caught a gag as an intense, putrid smell of body odor, rum, and salt filled her lungs. Luckily the blaring melodies of snoring covered her stifle, also giving her the advantage to roam without worrying about the noisy floorboards. Quickly she found an empty hammock and slithered in.
Only a few seconds had passed of Sakura laying there, struggling to get used to the awful stench, when the sun rose. Her heart lit when she saw the lighting blue sky through the quarters' entrance. Sun meant departure, and departure meant Sakura was a sail closer to reaching her father.
At the sound of loud banging against metal, an iron bell, Sakura almost jumped out of her hammock, her heart racing. All around her the men were rising, rushing to throw a few garments on. "Set sail!" A man yelled from the deck, peeking his head into the crews' quarters.
"Up up up boy!" An old, grumpy looking pirate urged, shaking Sakura's hammock, "Orders say set sail."
Sakura stumbled up, clueless. She tried to step back into the shadow of the hammocks, hoping to avoid the flow of traffic and let the pirates files out before her, but felt a nudge in her back push her onward. This wasn't part of the plan! She was supposed to stay in the crews quarters unnoticed until the ship had successfully left port. There was no way she knew how to 'set sail' like a proper sailor. She'd be found out before the anchor was even lifted.
"Step to, boy!" The man commanded, again shoving her towards the pandemonium of people that were climbing up the ladder.
"Lift the rode, climb the ratlines, and begin rigging! And make haste, at that! We leave before the first soul arrives in the marketplace!"
Sakura stood, bumping against the jumble of workers on deck in an attempt to orient herself. Everyone was moving about so swiftly and deftly, covering all areas of the ship, she didn't know what to do. The same old man shoved her along, saying, "You best be on your toes, cabin boy, or the death to pay by the Cap'n. Now on you go. Man the lines!"
Sakura, terrified and puzzled, raced to make herself look busy, taking hold of a stray rope and pulling lightly. She had absolutely no idea what she was doing, however, as long as it attracted as little attention as possible, she was fine. Within a matter of minutes, the crew— minus Sakura— had turned the sails to catch the wind, leading them away from land and into the vast sea. Sakura sighed, watching as the town she had lived in for so long became distant. It was a depressing sight, she had to admit.
The crew seemed to settle at the completion of this job. On the upper deck, by the enormous wooden steering wheel two men were conversing about navigation, and all along to lower deck, the rest were about their own businesses. "Cabin boy!" the old man called from against the ship's railing, his face stern, serious, as he motioned for Sakura, "Come hither!"
Sakura took a step and fell, the floors rocking with the flow of the sea. This feeling of instability was foreign to Sakura and took a bit of effort to overcome as she wobbled over to her caller. As she approached the man scrutinized her stance.
"What happened to yer sea legs, lad? Gotten accustomed to the landlubber life so soon?" He questioned.
"N-no," Sakura lied, straining to deepen her voice, "A bad case of exhaustion. I didn't get much sleep last night."
The man made a face at her, narrowing his pearly blue eyes, "Say, have you been here long?"
"No not quite, sir—"
"Hold, boy," He interrupted, scanning over her suspiciously, "What tongue have you eaten?"
Sakura tilted her head slightly, gulping, "Eaten?"
"Me keeping a weather eye on you," he warned, low and menacing, causing Sakura to stiffened with realization at what he was initially getting at. It hadn't registered before that the way she spoke was infinitely different from the typical sailor. Her speech was atrocious (or rather the opposite) to the pirate people. It was outlandish and clean and precise and made her stick out like raised hair. Not to mention her shameful choice of suit.
"Off with you, before the Cap'n bends his ears to this. Be seen and not heard," he ordered, and Sakura wobbled back over to where she was prior, only to be faced with a young man not much older than she. He sported black, spiky hair and wore incongruously unsoiled clothing. Sakura frowned at the aura of pride and power he emitted.
"Cabin boy," he addressed, his voice silky and smooth and authoritative, "The deck needs swabbing. Step to."
"Err, yes sir, I…" Sakura cringed inwardly at her failed attempt to speak like a pirate, looking up at the handsome man desperately. He raised a dark brow at her efforts, arms crossed and mocking. In the back of her mind, Sakura noted that this man must hold some sort of position. He was scary, yet blindingly elegant and somehow pretty. And to think he held the title of a pirate; a noun which should be a worldwide synonym for disgusting.
"Swab the deck. You've learned, haven't you, cabin boy?"
A sweat began to start on the back of Sakura's neck as the man continued to pressure her, his onyx stare weighting nearly a thousand fish. Suddenly her whole head felt hot— the bandana and hat only making it worse. He was looking through her, it seemed, and that made Sakura fidget in place. What did he know? And why was he talking to her like that… like she was some child.
"Yes,"
"Then step to."
Sakura turned, scanning the deck for a swab, whatever that was. She took a few cautious steps forward, her knees shaking with unease.
"Hold fast," the young man blurted suddenly, tempting Sakura to turn back around, "Come."
Sakura lumbered back to him, knees still shaking.
"Your name, cabin boy."
"My name?"
"Aye, your name."
Sakura searched her frantic mind for something, stuttering out the first word, the first name, she could think of, "F-Frederick, sir."
"Alright Frederick," he mused, a mischievous smirk lifting his lips, "Continue."
As Sakura gyrated around once more she knew something was off. Behind her the presence of the man lurked closer, closing in on her backside so fast she had no time to think before an icy, sharp cutlass was pressed against the soft skin of her neck.
| (Hoist The Colours) |
A/N:
So all I can really say is REVIEW! I LOVE FEEDBACK! I really do! Plus, reviews motivate me to write (as they do for any other writer, honestly). So please, don't just Alert— Alerts basically say "Hey. I dig this! But I'm too lazy to say anything" and BOY IS THAT UNNERVING — because REVIEWS ARE MUCH BETTER! I appreciate every. Single. Word.
So, if you'd like another chapter before I go off to school, just click the little button down there… :D
I'd appreciate it