I don't own Kuroko no Basuke. I made this as simple as possible, so there aren't many characters that are developed here aha… Devil Standing Alone (The Weight of Living)
Dedicated to Amy for saying the magic phrase; 'Pirate AU'
Ship: AkaFuri; past NijiAka / MidoTaka
Rating: T+ (older teen)
Warnings: suggestive content / underage / major(ish) character death
If there was one thing that Seijūrō didn't expect it was that one of the insignificant rats that he'd allowed aboard his ship would in fact turn out to be so significant in his own life. As captain, he could decide what he wanted, so instead his first mate, Shintaro, had hired a few men who would do anything for a few yen whilst Seijūrō had stayed with the ship. He didn't like to leave her alone anyway, and didn't really trust anyone outside of himself and Shintaro. He'd taken a quick look at the new arrivals (stopping a bit at the small one with brown hair and eyes; he was even shorter than Seijūrō was) and then nodded at Shintaro. This group didn't seem bad; apart from the small one they were big, strong-looking men.
Except for that one. The one who'd scoffed and said, "That's the great captain, emperor of creation Akashi Seijūrō? Even though he is so short and young?"
Seijūrō stopped in front of him as the rat turned to his new colleagues with a wide grin on his face. "Maybe I should challenge him and become captain my-" He was cut off and made a strange gurgling sound as Seijūrō cut a mocking imitation of his grin in his neck which wept blood and stepped back as the man fell forward, his muscles twitching.
Seijūrō remained impassive as he wiped his sword on the man's shirt and Shintaro sighed. "He had been drinking, Akashi. You didn't have to kill him."
Shintaro's hand was pushing up his glasses and he closed his eyes as Seijūrō responded. "There is no room on this ship for people who don't obey and respect me instantly regardless of their mental state. Dispose of his body," he said to the two men who had been closest to the corpse.
The bigger one moved forward immediately, refusing to look at Seijūrō in the face, but the other, the small one, gaped at Seijūrō openly, his chest heaving in almost exaggerated movements.
He was quite... pretty, Seijūrō noted in slight alarm. He couldn't have been far from Seijūrō's age, and though more plain than striking he had a nice jawline and big eyes which Seijūrō suspected made him look scared and shocked even if he wasn't so. Seijūrō watched him just as openly. It was strange; he hadn't felt anything close to this this – interest? lust? – in a few years now. Not since Shūzō.
And goodness knew that hadn't ended well.
When the other man still hadn't moved, Seijūrō pushed his musings to the back of his mind, placed his hand on the hilt of his sword and said softly, a voice that made men twice his size run for cover, "Do I need to say that again?"
The man made a high pitched noise, stammered an apology and rushed to the body, almost tripping up on the way.
"So, apart from the… uh, incident, what do you think?"
Seijūrō hummed thoughtfully before nodding and placing the winning piece on the shogi board (Shintaro huffed at it and glared at the piece still lying in his hand). "I think they'll do well." A pause, whilst he figured out how to ask; "The small brunet; what's his name?"
Shintaro ruffled through some papers and pulled out the right one. "Furihata Kōki. 18 years old, no experience apart from on fishing boats, but he was really rather insistent."
"Why did he want to join the crew?"
"He didn't say. I can take responsibility of him until he learns how to work."
"No, no, it's fine. You have your hands full."
Seijūrō told himself that it was concern for his first mate which fuelled his words, but the spark of interest he felt was hard to ignore.
If there hadn't been the incident with the man (Haizaki, Kōki had found out that his name was Haizaki), Kōki would have completely and perfectly happy.
And why shouldn't he be? He was free for the first time in his life. And these men, though roughened and hard and quite scary looking, actually turned out to be pretty damn hilarious when they drank too much and a fight broke out which couldn't really be called a fight because they kept on pitching over and landing heavily on the floor. He wondered about home when he was lying in his hammock that night, kept awake by the loud snores of the six men that were on his rotation, but felt nothing other than relief that he was no longer there.
It was early morning when he awoke, and even though he wasn't due to start work until mid-morning he went to the main deck for fresh air.
They'd left Japan long behind and from the position of the sun they seemed to be going north-west. The deck was mostly clear, just two crew members checking the rigging and a relatively short man with dark hair at the helm.
And then there was a sudden, shouted greeting and a body dropped next to him and suspended upside down. Kōki yelped and jumped back, half expecting to see someone hanging by the neck and the other man laughed. "Sorry, didn't mean to scare you there." He disentangled his arms and legs from the rigging and let himself drop gracefully to the deck the right way up.
"What were you..." Kōki looked up at the rigging.
The man laughed again. "I used to be an acrobat and the captain doesn't mind me doing that as long as I don't mess up the rigging."
"Uh..." Kōki looked up again at the tangle of ropes above them.
"No matter," the man said cheerfully, tugging on one of the ropes and righting them. "I'm Kazunari, by the way. Takao Kazunari. I'm a helmsman and in my spare time I go up to the crows' nest... or the surrounding area."
"Furihata Kōki. I... don't really know what I am."
Kazunari didn't laugh, which Kōki was thankful for, but instead smiled encouragingly. "You'll find out soon enough, Kou-chan. Being at sea always tells men what they are." Kōki started at the nickname. He didn't remember being called anything other than Furihata-sama by people other than his family for years.
He clambered back onto the rigging as Kōki watched in astonishment.
"Don't pay attention to him."
Kōki turned to see the captain, his hair windblown and slightly damp from sea spray, and ducked his head. "Yes, captain."
"He's only here because Shintaro has a soft spot for him anyway."
"Oh," Kōki said, his eyes widening and a blush colouring his cheeks. He should have expected such impropriety, he supposed. A group of men alone at sea for months, maybe even years at a time, were bound to make their own amusement.
"Hey!" Kazunari called from above. "I heard that!" He was dangling upside-down again, glaring (almost pouting actually) in their direction.
The captain laughed. "Don't look so scandalised, Kōki; I didn't mean it like that. He's our best helmsman."
"Oh," Kōki said again.
"You're out here early. I thought you weren't on duty until midmorning?" He handed Kōki a sea biscuit, who accepted it.
"It's my first time on a ship this big." He didn't want to admit that it was the first time he'd been on a ship at all; he'd been too embarrassed to admit it yesterday to Midorima.
The captain nodded. "You'll pick it up soon enough. Give me your hand." He held out his own, and Kōki uncertainly placed his within it.
The captain turned it so it was palm up and ran his fingers over the skin. Kōki's pulse jumped erratically and his entire body warmed so much that he thought he might evaporate the sea spray around them.
"You haven't worked a day in your life, have you?" the captain said softly. He held onto Kōki's hand a few seconds longer than necessary before dropping it and stepping back. "No matter; we have all sorts here. As long as you work hard I have no problem with where you've come from."
He turned and left, leaving Kōki feeling colder in his solitude.
Seijūrō was in trouble.
What had possessed him to take the man's hand? Of everything he'd done in his life (and he'd done some pretty awful things), that had to be the most idiotic. Because as soon as he took his hand and a blush had coloured Kōki's cheeks he'd wanted to bring it close to his face and kiss his fingers and graze his teeth over the pulse in his wrist and seen how far the boy would let it go. He stalked into his quarters, slamming the door behind him before leaning back against it and covering his face with his hands.
"I'm such an idiot," he muttered. Maybe once they docked in China he'd drop the boy off and leave and forget. Never mind if Kōki died. He'd lost people before; he could handle it.
He turned and cracked the door open a little bit to watch Kōki. He was looking down at his hand and flexing it, a pained expression on his face.
Seijūrō did not soften at this. He never softened once, not even when Shūzō begged for his life. Nothing could compromise his captainhood.
Kōki learned quickly over the next couple of weeks and it wasn't long before he understood the lexis and could perform the appropriate action. It was the captain who taught him most of the time (which surprised him; didn't a captain have better things to do with his time than teach a cabin boy the different between port and starboard and which rigging controlled the mainsail and how to tie about twenty different knots?) but he was cool and business-like the entire time and didn't touch Kōki again. Kōki would have brushed it off if it wasn't for the fact that every now and then the captain would look at him with the oddest expression. It made Kōki wonder what the captain was thinking; on anyone else it could be seen as fondness. It certainly didn't seem contemptuous.
But maybe he was projecting his own developing feelings onto the captain. He had to remind himself every day that this was a man who had killed someone for nothing more than a drunken remark the first time they'd met. He just wished his subconscious would listen to reason; he was starting to lose count of the times he woke up from vivid, heated dreams pressing his arm to his mouth to muffle the moans and pants and rolling onto his front, swearing over and over under his breath and cursing himself.
Docking at China was always a bustle and also rather stressful. Seijūrō left Shintaro behind on the ship with explicit orders to all of his crew to stay out of trouble and decided to take a walk around the city to get away from it.
To get away from Kōki, actually. Being always in the sun suited him; his skin had tanned and he now wore a bandanna to keep his hair out of his eyes.
The image of Kōki's bright smile obscured his vision and he groaned and stopped dead in the middle of the street.
This was getting to be too much. Feeling as common as street dirt he put his hands in his pocket and counted out a few coins before ducking into an alleyway that his crew had mentioned when they were too drunk to realise that their captain was there.
The brothel was cleaner than he expected, but it didn't make him feel any less dirty. The woman he chose had big brown eyes and brown hair which was almost as short as his own. Seijūrō tried to ignore her resemblance to Kōki and the fear that made his heart twist when, instead of picturing Shūzō or the girl herself, he pictured a boy his own age with a bright smile and transparent eyes.
When he came back to the ship, feeling even worse than he had when he'd left, he almost ran right into Kōki, who was glancing behind his shoulder even as he was moving forward. He made an exclamation of surprise as Seijūrō caught hold of his shoulders.
"What's wrong?" he asked (wait, why did he feel so guilty? He hadn't betrayed Kōki by going to the brothel).
"Uh..." Kōki blushed bright red and stumbled back when Seijūrō let go of him. "I... I walked in on..." he shifted uncomfortably and the next words came out so quietly that Seijūrō had to ask him to repeat them. "Midorima-san and Takao-kun."
Seijūrō raised his eyebrows. "Is that so?" he said wonderingly. So his joke had turned out to be a closer to truth. "I should have known there was something going on behind my back." He moved to pass Kōki.
"Wait! Captain!"
He turned to face Kōki. "Yes?"
"You're not going to hurt them, are you?"
He was scared; Seijūrō could see it in his expression, and his stomach twisted uncomfortably. "Of course not," he reassured him. "I'd be a hypocrite if I did." Kōki blinked and opened his mouth (blushing again; Seijūrō had to restrain himself from stepping forward and kissing that blush).
"I'll talk to them," he said with a sigh. Kōki nodded.
Even if Seijūrō hadn't known better, it would have been easy to realise that something was wrong what with Shintaro's bright red face and Kazunari's nervous giggling. That afternoon when he was playing shogi with Shintaro he decided to broach the subject. "You know, I think you've damaged Kōki's delicate sensibilities."
Shintaro dropped his shogi pieces on the floor and dove after them to gather them up as Seijūrō watched in amusement. "Just be more careful, Shintaro. He looked terrified."
Shintaro adjusted his glasses as he settled back on his chair. "I thought you would be angry if you found out."
Seijūrō rolled his eyes. "After Shūzō I can't say anything."
"Oh," Shintaro said uncomfortably. "I'd forgotten about that."
Seijūrō placed a shogi piece on the board with more force than strictly necessary. "Lucky you," he said dryly. "But hopefully it won't end up the same way for you." Shintaro watched him with wide eyes and shook his head.
"He's not like you."
"Good. Now get out of my quarters."
Shintaro wasn't offended by Seijūrō's brash words; he knew his captain enough to know when he needed to be alone, and after being reminded of Shūzō was one of the times that Seijūrō wanted no company.
But even as he tried to think of Shūzō; give him the adulation in his mind that his first love deserved, his thoughts were being violated by the small brunet.
When all else failed, the only way to get some sort of relief was to drink as much rum as he could. And being one of those rare breeds of pirate who was a lightweight he was done after the first bottle and could hardly stand up straight enough to reach another. The crew slowly started coming back (made interesting when Shun dropped a sizeable bag of jewellery next to Seijūrō with a self-satisfied smirk) and all went below decks (Shintaro had made the decision, as Seijūrō was 'indisposed', to stay docked for the night and allow the crew an uninterrupted night's sleep). Kōki was last in, during which Seijūrō was sitting on the side of the ship trying to balance two empty bottles on top of each other.
"Captain?"
Seijūrō whirled around and hopped onto his feet, knocking the bottles onto the floor. "Ah, shoot," he said, watching them as they rolled to Kōki's feet. Kōki bent to pick them up and placed them in Seijūrō's hands.
"You've been drinking?"
"And you're looking radiant this evening," Seijūrō said with a smirk. The shocked blush on Kōki's cheeks was so lovely that he continued. "Not that you don't look lovely every night. Because you really do."
Kōki looked down. "You shouldn't say such things."
"I always say the truth."
"Captain-"
"Don't move away from me."
He had been ready to step back, Seijūrō had seen it from the shift in his posture, but the wave of coldness that had rushed over him made him fear the distance between them. He took hold of Kōki's shoulders and roughly dragged him forwards. "Don't," he said.
Oh, he'd been a bit too harsh. Kōki's body collided against his and their faces were so close. Maybe it was the haze of the alcohol, but the boy's eyes had seemed to darken slightly and Seijūrō felt him press a bit closer to his body.
Seijūrō blamed it on magnetism when he tilted his chin up with a slightly rough hand and kissed him.
Oh, he'd missed this. He hadn't felt anything close to this slow haze of pleasure and happiness (from nothing more than a kiss) since Shūzō. He tilted his head and kissed him deeper, his hands tight in his hair and trembled when Kōki responded. It was when he started brushing his hands lower and flicking his tongue against Kōki's lips that he jumped and pushed Seijūrō back gently.
Seijūrō smirked and cocked his head to one side when Kōki bit his lip. "Are you really that surprised, Kōki?"
"A... a bit."
Seijūrō hummed and stepped forward again.
"N-no! Captain, don't."
"Kōki..." he murmured, ignoring the way he was trying to back away. "I have been waiting so long for this." He pressed his lips just below his jaw and pulled him closer again.
"Captain..." He moaned when Seijūrō sucked some skin between his lips and bit down on it gently.
"Shhh, Kōki..." He drifted down to Kōki's collarbone and passed his tongue over the skin, salty from the sea spray.
He was definitely responding, pressing closer and tangling his hands in vivid red hair. But then he pushed Seijūrō away again firmly. "Not when you're too drunk to think."
Seijūrō frowned. "I'm not drunk."
Kōki rolled his eyes and let go of his shoulders, raising his eyebrows when Seijūrō listed and thumped onto the floor. "Oh." He pressed his lips together to keep from laughing when Seijūrō pouted.
"And only two drinks? Even I can hold out longer than that." He helped Seijūrō to his feet and propelled him in the direction of his quarters. "Go sleep it off, captain."
"Fine."
Kōki was up early the next day (after restless dreams, of course. He couldn't help but wonder what it would have been like to give in and let the captain do whatever he liked) and went to the starboard side, leaning his forehead against the smooth wood and sighing.
"Kou-chan!"
His head popped up and he looked up to see Takao flipping over to land lightly on his feet. Kōki blushed as he remembered the position he'd found him and the first mate in yesterday and Takao grinned bashfully, ruffling the back of his hair. "I'm sorry about yesterday."
"I-it's fine. None of my business anyway."
Takao laughed. "Thanks for understanding." He hoisted himself back up onto the rigging and made his way to the helm.
The captain didn't come out of his quarters all day and Midorima took over instead to get supplies together and cast off, before he disappeared in the quarters too for an hour or so. Kōki did his chores with his head down and had just taken a breather to watch the sunset when the quarters finally opened and the captain came out. Kōki refused to look at him, quickly ducking down again to continue scrubbing at the wooden boards, but it wasn't really needed as he merely went to the helm and talked to Takao for a while.
But then he approached Kōki and dropped to his knees next to him. "I suppose I should apologise," he said, sounding slightly amused. "I'm a bit of a lightweight and apparently everything caught up to me."
Kōki frowned and moved to a different spot to start scrubbing it clean. "What everything?"
He was quiet for a moment and Kōki looked up. Seijūrō was downcast and his eyebrows were furrowed together. "I haven't felt like this for years."
"Captain?"
He met Kōki's gaze again, blinking a couple of times and sighed before smiling softly. "Can we talk?"
The difference in him was a shock; when Kōki compared how he was acting now to how he was when he'd first seen him he had to wonder whether part of it was his own influence. Even though he didn't respond, Akashi still stood up and beckoned insistently with his hand and leading the way to his quarters.
"So... what everything?" Kōki repeated when the door had been shut and Akashi was lighting several candles. "Is this something to do with what you said when I found out about Midorima-san and Takao-kun?"
"That I'd be a hypocrite if I punished them? Yes." He looked up at the ceiling and crossed his arms. "I left home when I was eight on a mere whim and stowed away on a supply ship. The ship was ransacked by pirates a few months afterwards but I managed to... convince them not to kill me like they had the crew. And from the beginning I was fascinated by Shūzō. He was the first mate when I joined the ship but soon took over peacefully as captain." He paced to the other side of the room and faced the wall with his head lowered. "I suppose I fell in love with him the moment I saw him. He was a talented swordsman and had a sense of justice that was unrivalled, even though he was captain of The Emperor. And he was the one who taught me how to fight. I practiced until I could beat him myself."
"Is he..." Kōki paused and bit his lip. "Did he die?"
Akashi took a deep breath and his shoulders tensed. "I was thirteen when he started reciprocating my feelings and he made me first mate soon after. But from the beginning I'd wanted to be captain and I knew there was no chance of Shūzō stepping down. So..." he turned back to Kōki with a distant look in his eyes, both colours glowing but in a dull way. "I organised a mutiny. And whilst I was in here… distracting him the ship was taken over. Did you not wonder, Kōki?" He raised an eyebrow. "I'm younger than you and yet I'm captain of a notorious crew. There are not many ways of becoming captain, especially if the current captain has no intention of stepping down."
Dread pooled in Kōki's stomach and he backed up until his back was against the door.
Akashi gave a predatorial, mocking smile. "Figured so," he said. "He died on that bed." The hand that he used to motion to the double bed against the far wall was shaking. "He did beg for mercy, but I still shot him. And even if I still do love him, I don't regret it. I'd do it again."
He was brooding for a moment as Kōki watched the bed in horror.
But what was he expecting? That Akashi would turn out to be gentle and kind and compassionate all the way through his personality? He was a pirate, one of the most infamous at that.
"Just figured you should know," he added, smiling harshly.
Seijūrō watched as Kōki started to speak, shook his head, and left.
It was best not to dredge up the past, Seijūrō knew that, but if he had any chance of leaving Kōki at the nearest dock of his own volition he had to scare him off.
He decided not to sleep on the bed that night, and after stopping at Shintaro's quarters (he looked embarrassed; Seijūrō supposed that Kazunari was hiding out somewhere in the room) to tell him that they would be changing course to Singapore, he hoisted up a hammock and begged Calypso that he wouldn't dream.
Whether what occurred was a dream or not, Seijūrō couldn't know, but after hours of seemingly lying awake the room brightened with candlelight and when he turned his head and opened his eyes he was standing up. And then his heart stopped beating.
Shūzō was asleep on the bed, the thin sheet not doing much to hide that he was naked.
"Shūzō…"
"Where is it?"
It was his voice, though slightly higher and Seijūrō looked behind him to find himself, shorter and younger, wearing only Shūzō's shirt and rifling through a drawer whilst still trying to keep as quiet as possible.
Shouts and the unmistakable ring of swords were coming from outside.
"No," Seijūrō said, stumbling back. He'd already lived through this once, the worst night of his life; why did he have to live through it again?
"Sei?" The bed creaked as Shūzō sat up.
Seijūrō shut his eyes and shook his head.
"Sei, what are you doing? Come back to bed, love."
The younger Seijūrō had a hand behind his back when he stood back up and the elder knew from experience that there was the former captain's gun in it.
Shūzō frowned and pressed the palm of his hand to his forehead. "I'm really hungover..." he trailed off when the crack of a gunshot filled the air and frowned in confusion. "What... what's going on?"
The younger Seijūrō still kept his hand behind his back and smiled, his eyes standing out starkly against his pale face.
"Sei, what's wrong?"
Screams from outside.
"Holy... what's going on, Sei?"
…
Click.
…
Shūzō gaped at the gun in Seijūrō's hand, pointing at his forehead. "Wh-what? Sei?"
"You weren't going to let me be captain."
"Sei?" His voice was small.
Seijūrō's hand was trembling as he held the gun out. "I don't just want to be first mate, Shūzō. I want to be captain."
Shūzō's face paled and he whispered, "Mutiny?"
Seijūrō didn't answer, but his hard expression was enough. Shūzō lifted his hands, palms forward. "Sei, think about this. You're fourteen. You're too young to be captain."
"I know I can do it."
"Seijūrō." The use of his full name cut through him until he felt out of breath – had he stopped breathing? – Shūzō only ever used it when he climaxed.
"I'm going to be captain one way or another. You can leave this ship, or I kill you."
Shūzō's eyes flashed. "I've been working for this longer than you've been alive. Don't do this. When the time comes, you'll be captain."
"Don't you know, Shūzō? I am absolute. I can make the time come."
The hand stilled and cocked the gun and Shūzō's voice broke as he begged. "Please." Seijūrō merely moved closer until the metal of the gun was against his forehead.
Anyone else who had been watching would have thought that the boy was emotionless in the hardness of his eyes. But Seijūrō had been that boy, knew that his stomach was sinking and his heart was tearing into pieces and his mind was begging to let the man go, to break down and collapse into his arms, begging for forgiveness and forgetting everything but Shūzō's body.
"So it was all a lie."
The younger gave a minute shake of his head, which Shūzō didn't even see because he had closed his eyes, and the elder fell against the floor as the shot rang out and blood splattered against the wall.
Seijūrō threw the gun to the side as if it was burning him and choked out a sob before pulling Shūzō's body into his arms and rocking him. "Shūzō... Shūzō..."
But even looking on at the scene, Seijūrō still didn't regret a moment of it.
He shouldn't still want to be with Seijūrō. But all Kōki could think about that night was what could have happened had he stayed. It wasn't entirely Seijūrō's fault; he'd grown up around pirates, and maybe all he needed was the right influence…
Even in his mind he sounded like a love-struck teenager who wouldn't listen to reason. He would have to keep an eye on himself if he didn't want to swoon and have fainting fits whenever the captain happened to walk on by.
One thing that he was very tempted to do was drink his own body weight in alcohol, then lie in his hammock and pray for death (that did seem to be the norm with the other men). At least then he could try to forget the image of a fourteen year old Akashi killing another man – no, not just another man; his lover – in order to be captain, and not regret it. Could a man like that even know what love was?
For the first time since he'd left, he found himself wishing he'd stayed home. Even having all his choices taken away from him and his entire life dictated in a monotonous monochrome of grey would be better than the pain that was induced by Akashi Seijūrō's heterochromatic eyes.
When Seijūrō awoke he was curled up in a ball in his bed.
He sat up uncertainly, wincing as the movement made his head spin. Had he not…? But, no, the hammock was there, swaying with the gentle movement of the ship. The dream – or rather dangerously vivid memory – must have prompted him to move to the bed and cling to what was left of Shūzō's memory.
Including the constellations of bloodstains on the wall which hadn't come out no matter how hard Seijūrō scrubbed at them. A reminder to never waste his captainhood. He'd given up everything for it.
The sea was always incongruent to anything on days like these. And thankfully his crew knew enough of their captain to leave him when he climbed up as high as he could onto the rigging. Even Kazunari didn't do his usual monkey act, though he did look up longingly.
And for the first time in his life, he wondered what it would be like to jump and let the waves envelop him. He loved the sea, always had, and such a place – far from any civilisation – was a befitting burial place for the worst of murderers.
He lowered himself back onto the main deck before his thoughts could begin to be actions, and took hold of Kazunari's arm as he started to climb up himself.
"I want you to start teaching Kōki how to sword fight."
Kazunari frowned. "But you're a lot better than I am, captain."
"He's more comfortable around you than he is around me."
"That's just because he—" Kazunari broke off and his eyes widened. "That is… he's more aware of you than he is of me." But he sighed and nodded. "Aye aye, captain. We'll start tomorrow."
"It's been eerily calm recently." Seijūrō looked down at the waves crashing against the boat and his hands tightened against the ropes until his knuckles were turning white.
"It's bad luck to say something like that, captain."
Seijūrō's vision blurred as he stared at the water. "Yes. It is, isn't it?"
"He wants what?"
"For you to learn how to sword-fight. I'm surprised it took this long, actually." Midorima handed Kōki a wooden sword. "Certainly, it has been rather uneventful recently…" he mused. "I wonder why the fates have decreed it so."
Takao rolled his eyes from behind Midorima. "Don't confuse the poor boy, Shin-chan; he's already scared enough of you without knowing of your eccentricities. It's just a coincidence."
"There are no coincidences, Takao."
"Of course." He winked at Kōki before physically moving Midorima out of the way (he spluttered a complaint and tripped slightly). "Sword-fighting is easy-"
"Now who's confusing him? Sword-fighting is not easy, Furihata-"
"Maybe it wasn't to you, Shin-chan, but I found it very easy-"
"As if. You made a fool of yourself more times than I can count."
"Uh…" Kōki waved the sword between them to attract their attention. "Didn't we have an agenda for today?"
Takao grinned at him. "Aye, we did." He moved forwards and changed Kōki's grip. "The trick is to think of the sword as an extension to your own arm and accommodate accordingly. Right," he settled into a stronger position in front of Kōki and made a quick circle with his own sword. "Charge at me."
Kōki complied, then yelped as he was disarmed and then hit with the flat of Takao's sword on the top of his head. "Wrong! Don't do what your opponent tells you, honestly," he rolled his eyes as Kōki rubbed the sore spot on his head and squinted at him.
"But you're my teacher."
Takao thwacked him again with the sword. "Don't talk back to your teacher."
"Ouch."
Takao smirked and put his head to one side. "Okay, I'll be serious now."
The lesson attracted quite a bit of attention from the other crewmates, which Kōki didn't blame them for. Takao – when being serious – was a fantastic teacher and quickly pinpointed each issue in his posture and calculated the best angles and strikes which would best put his small stature and generally weak physique to his own advantage. When Takao allowed him to take a break to catch his breath and have a drink of water he noted Takao's talent. "I don't see how even the captain could be better."
Takao smiled and tied his bandanna more firmly. "You flatter me. The captain is a lot better." He tapped just under his right eye. "We call it the emperor eye. He can predict the future."
Kōki choked on his water. "I'm sorry?"
"Well, to a point. As a swordsman, he's unbeatable. He can read your pulse, muscle movements, sweat and posture to predict what move you'll make next. If we were against each other in a real fight I'd be floored in minutes."
Kōki looked up into the crows' nest, where Akashi was watching the horizon. "He's spending a lot of time up there recently."
Takao followed his eyes. "Yes. He does that a lot when he feels like something bad is going to happen."
A chill filled Kōki's chest as he looked up at his captain, solitary and small against the azure.
However Seijūrō seemed to the outside world and regardless of how quickly he'd had to grow up, he was still in essence a seventeen year old boy; basically still a child. So when he was watching Kazunari and Kōki and the ease of their exchange during their lessons, petty jealousy reared its head and pushed him to go back down to the main deck and threaten Kazunari with some sharp implement to stay away from 'his' Kōki.
But when he had a handle on his jealousy and saw how Kōki was progressing with his lessons and the way the rest of his crew shouted suggestions and cracked ridiculous jokes he was just filled with inexplicable fondness for them all.
When Kōki finally managed to disarm Kazunari Seijūrō climbed down. Kōki trembled slightly when he saw him and turned away slightly to move closer to Kazunari (which, although may be Seijūrō's own fault was futile; did he expect to be able to avoid his captain?).
"You can use real swords now," he told him. Kazunari took Kōki's arm to lead him to the weapons cabinet. "And how about," he added, unsheathing his own sword, "we spar for a bit?"
Kōki went so pale that Seijūrō worried that he would pass out but nodded obediently. He made a few practice swings with his new sword, keeping a worried eye on Seijūrō.
"Relax, Kōki," he said. "This is just practice."
He was certainly good for how long he'd been learning, but still very predictable in his feints and strikes. The way he fought was like how he kissed, in fact, Seijūrō thought, his face heating up the slightest bit; hesitantly but experimental with pressure and technique.
He managed to disarm Kōki and the sword clattered to the floor, but couldn't look away from him.
The red mark on his neck where Seijūrō had bitten and sucked at had faded; Seijūrō had watched it slowly disappear over the past few days. But his gaze was drawn to the skin as if it was still there and it took all his self-control not to drag Kōki into his quarters right then and there and mark his skin all over; his crew's opinions of him be damned.
Now he remembered why he'd asked Kazunari to teach him instead of himself. Fighting was too close to sex when the feelings for the other person were already overwhelming. He couldn't count the amount of times Shūzō had ended up pulling him into his quarters after sparring, stealing kisses and touches as he did.
Kōki picked up the sword and grinned self-consciously. "I guess it'll take a while before I can beat you, captain."
The spell was broken and Seijūrō blinked. "Seems so," he said softly. Kōki turned away from him, his shoulders thrumming with tension.
Seijūrō felt Kōki's heated gaze resting on him often that evening, almost as if he was waiting for something that he knew would eventually happen.
"Good work today, Kou-chan," Takao said when they finished up.
Kōki braced himself weakly against the rigging, considering jumping into the sea just to get away from the blistering heat which had been building up in the atmosphere.
"No, you can't jump out of the boat." Takao cocked an eyebrow at him.
Kōki groaned. "Only for a few minutes," he begged.
"I think we need to work on your stamina." Takao grinned as he watched Kōki, he himself only slightly out of breath. "Didn't you work when you were back home?"
Kōki shook his head. "Not really. My family—" he broke of and bit his tongue. He couldn't blow it now; he was gaining this crowd's respect by his own merit rather than by his family's.
Takao glanced at him curiously but didn't press the matter, instead looking at the helm where Akashi was talking to Izuki. "About that little sparring match…" Kōki's entire body heated up at the memory. Had Akashi even realised the way he had been looking at him? "Do you need any tips?"
Kōki frowned at him. "Tips?"
Takao grinned and winked at him and Kōki froze and blushed. "You know, tips." The innuendo was clear in his tone.
"What are you talking about?"
"I'm just saying… those looks you were giving each other were pretty damn heated."
"Heated?" Kōki squeaked.
"Don't worry; it's completely natural when you're around men constantly. Basically all you need to do is—"
"Stop right there!" Kōki slapped his hands over his ears. "I do not want to know what you and Midorima get up to in your spare time."
Takao winked at him playfully. "Don't be silly. You know what we get up to in our spare time, Kou-chan."
Kōki buried his face in his hands. "I don't know how he puts up with you."
He slapped Kōki on the shoulder. "Just don't be scared of it. If it happens it happens." He left Kōki looking out at the sunset over the sea.
The fact that life would have been so much easier if he'd stayed in Japan drifted across his thoughts, even if he would be tied to someone he didn't particularly care for.
Instead of a doomed love like his love for Akashi.
He let his head drop down and closed his eyes. Even the knowledge of his past wasn't enough to keep his thoughts away from the captain. Akashi may be the most imperfect person he'd ever met, but if he didn't take the chance he would regret it, even if any kind of relationship had to remain completely secret.
Akashi was watching him with his eyes softer than he'd ever seen when he looked in his direction. One short glance was all it took; Akashi's lips parted slightly in shock and then he gave a small smile – nothing more than a slight upturning at one corner of his mouth – and he nodded.
Kōki faced the horizon again and chewed on his bottom lip nervously. All to do now was wait.
It was about twenty minutes later that the main deck of the boat was relatively quiet and Akashi came near to him. He didn't make any move to touch Kōki except for a light brush on his hand which was still enough to make Kōki's head spin in anticipation.
"Did you want to… talk?" Akashi's voice was low.
He moved closer and Kōki shivered before nodding.
When he had taken his hand and led him to his quarters silently Akashi was shooting nervous glances at him, his shoulders tense. It was easy, then, to see that Akashi was a year younger than him, to see that underneath his captaincy he was still as much of a child as Kōki was.
The door shut and they were alone in the darkened room. Akashi was the first to move, drifting his fingers gently along Kōki's cheek and over his jaw before ducking in to remark the skin of his neck. Kōki leaned against the door and stroked his hands through the vibrant red hair.
"I thought we were going to talk?" he said jokily (breathlessly. How was it that his body reacted so readily to Akashi?).
Akashi bit at the corner of his jaw before pulling back. "Yes, you're right. I brought you here under false pretences." A feather-light kiss on Kōki's cheek, on his forehead, on the corner of his mouth. "But you don't really seem to mind," his voice was nothing more than a whisper and Kōki gasped when Akashi pressed closer to him and pushed his shirt out of the way to trail kisses along his shoulder.
At which point Kōki couldn't take it any longer. He tugged Akashi back by his hair to kiss him – properly – and lost himself easily in the hazy pleasure. He'd never imagined that he would enjoy kissing anyone, let alone a man, but this was perfect; Akashi's hands desperately pulling him closer, his tongue tracing the shape of his lips, the anticipation which clouded every thought.
If he'd stayed home, no matter how long he would have searched, he never would have found this sincerity that he could feel in Seijūrō and this sudden overwhelming ease in another's presence. There was no fear or apprehension at giving himself to someone else and being completely at their mercy in every way.
Seijūrō pulled back to look at Kōki with darkened eyes. "Are you alright?" he asked.
Kōki nodded and sighed in contentment as Seijūrō's hand traced along his hip. "This is perfect."
Even though the only light was from a few candles that were the other side of the room Kōki could still see enough of Seijūrō's smile to know that it was one he hadn't seen before; one he doubted had been seen by anyone but Shūzō before him. "It really is," he said, before trailing kisses down his body and moving clothes out of the way until he was kneeling before him.
Kōki bit his lip and his eyes fluttered shut as waves of pleasure overtook him.
Seijūrō was the first to awaken the next morning.
Kōki was curled up against his side, a surprisingly familiar warmth next to him and shifted slightly when Seijūrō turned. Seijūrō held his breath until he settled back into sleep.
These uninterrupted moments had always been his favourites with Shūzō, when any anger and stress and irritation of the day before was smoothed out. It wasn't the same with Kōki; he was innocent and patient already, and in sleep seemed even younger than he was.
And he was much more expressive in his sleep than Shūzō was. As he watched, a myriad of expressions flickered over his face one by one; seemingly so unrelated that Seijūrō had to wonder what he was dreaming of.
His body turned golden with the sunlight that was coming through the porthole and Seijūrō kissed his lips lightly. Kōki rolled over and gave a little sigh before pulling the covers up higher around him. When he looked over his shoulder his brown eyes were open and they rested on Seijūrō slightly apprehensively and playfully at the same time. "What?" he said.
Seijūrō kissed the side of his head and pulled him closer to his body. "You're beautiful," he said simply.
Kōki squirmed against him but when he realised Seijūrō wouldn't let go relaxed with a huff. "Don't say that."
"Of course, my beauty."
He huffed again and Seijūrō hid a smile against his hair.
"I thought…" Kōki started before squeezing Seijūrō's hand tightly. "I thought this would feel weird, but it really doesn't." His voice had a wondering tone to it and he turned to look at Seijūrō.
"It's never weird when it's the right person."
"It feels right." His voice still hadn't lost the wondering and he brought their entwined hands to his cheek. "Was it like this with Shūzō?"
Seijūrō had to speculate at his tone. Certainly careful, but not jealous or bitter. And his transparent eyes were just looking at him innocently and softly as if he wanted to know the entire truth. "It felt right with him," he ventured carefully and relaxed when Kōki's expression didn't change. "But a different right. With him it felt like it was the end of the world and we were the only two left." That was certainly right; it had felt solitary with Shūzō in a way it didn't with Kōki. "But with you it's as if it's the beginning of the world and there's life outside to explore."
Kōki smiled. "Both perfect in their own ways, then."
He brushed a hand over Seijūrō's cheek and kissed him lightly. "You're perfect." Kōki made a face at his words.
"Not exactly." He sat up and pushed a hand through his hair. "Not perfect. I'm a coward." Seijūrō watched him as his shoulders hunched forwards. "The day after I joined the crew I was supposed to get married."
Despite himself, Seijūrō gave a small laugh and widened his eyes innocently when Kōki glared at him. "I'm being serious here. I left without telling anyone."
"And you think that's cowardice?"
"I feel like it is."
Seijūrō shook his head and pulled him back into his arms. "That's not cowardice. You should hear some of the crew's stories."
"Worse than running away?"
"No, we're all running away from something. But don't you think that starting a completely new life is brave of its own merit?" He got up from the bed and gathered his clothes as Kōki watched him.
"What are you running from?"
Seijūrō looked at him, at his openness and gentleness, but his eyes were caught by the bloodstains on the wall behind his head. His heart sank at the memory of his dream and of Shūzō's body in his arms.
"Myself," he answered simply.
Apart from the fact that Kōki was always a lot more tired these days he was happier. His days were filled with chores and learning how to fight, and then the nights he gave completely to Akashi as Akashi gave his own to him.
It was remarkable how quickly Akashi learnt how to undo him, until Kōki couldn't remember his name, couldn't remember his past or anticipate the future, could only focus on Akashi and how he felt and just how much he loved him.
And then there were the mornings when he would wake up to Akashi, either sleeping or watching him with a look of such tenderness that Kōki could only pull him closer and hold him in response.
Although, if there was one thing that was odd, the entire journey was very uneventful. It wasn't as if Kōki expected sword-fights and shipwrecks on a daily basis – he knew the books exaggerated – but everything was calm. Akashi spent much of his days up in the crows' nest, eyes narrowed against the wind and watching the empty horizon. Even Takao became more nervous and jittery.
"It's never been so quiet for so long," he offered as explanation when Kōki asked him. He looked down at the hand that held his sword. "But, anyway," he lightened up and smiled brightly. "You're doing really well with your fighting. When the storm does come you'll be ready." He shifted the sword before trying to disarm Kōki.
"What do you think is going to happen?"
Akashi's head shifted on his chest and he tightened his arms around Kōki's waist lazily. "What do you mean?"
"It's been a lot quieter than it should be recently, hasn't it? Even Takao-kun is getting nervous."
"It has been a bit like the calm before the storm," he mused before raising himself to look at Kōki. "Are you getting nervous?"
"Yes."
"Don't be. There's no point dreading something that might not even happen."
But his own eyes were apprehensive and the way he leaned in to kiss him was more desperate than usual. "I know you're nervous too," Kōki said when he'd moved to his neck.
"Never," he answered light-heartedly.
They were only a day away from Singapore when Seijūrō noticed the haze on the horizon. He was up in the crows' nest, alternating between watching Kōki contentedly bustle around the ship and frowning at the expanse surrounding him and the imperfection caught his eye. It was probably too far for anyone else to see it excepting himself, Kazunari and Shun – certainly too far to see any details – but unease tensed his muscles and his hand automatically checked that his sword was still in its scabbard.
It was easy to catch Kazunari's eye and he motioned for him to join Seijūrō. He climbed up quickly. "Everything alright, captain?"
"Do you see that?" he pointed towards the haze. Kazunari was quiet as he studied it.
"It's probably nothing to be worried about." But his voice was nervous and filled with anticipation, as if he wished it was something to worry about. "But best to keep an eye on it. Do you want me to stay up here?"
"No, I'll stay." Kazunari nodded and started to lower himself down. "Tell Kōki to come up here." He sighed when Kazunari grinned suggestively and chirruped an assent. Maybe he should have shot him before Shintaro had developed his little 'interest'.
Kōki climbed up the rigging slowly and smiled at Seijūrō when he reached the crows' nest. "Everything-" He yelped when Seijūrō pushed him against the mast and attacked his neck with kisses. "Not… not here," he said, but his order was made weak by the way he pulled Seijūrō closer to him and whined softly when he stepped back.
"Do you see that?" he motioned to the haze, which was slowly becoming more distinct.
"Yes," Kōki answered, a disgruntled tone to his voice. "It's just a boat, right?"
Seijūrō pointed to the highest point of the main sail, where the colours would be if they were hoisted. "And we're pirates. We can't be too careful."
"Okay, so we'll be careful. No need to call me up here to molest me and then back away like that." Still disgruntled, then. He crossed his arms and leant against the mast, looking away when Seijūrō smirked at him and ducked in to kiss his forehead.
"If it becomes clear that there will be an issue then I'll drop you off in Singapore."
Kōki rolled his eyes. "That's ridiculous. I'm a part of the crew, and why else would you get Takao-kun to teach me how to fight?"
"Because you didn't know how to."
"And now I do."
Seijūrō looked back at the haze. "Hopefully it won't be an issue."
"Oh, I don't know," Kōki answered. He looked at the haze with a small smile playing around his lips and his hand reaching towards his sword. "I kind of want something to happen."
The anticipation in his eyes made Seijūrō's heart drop.
It became clear that it was an issue when the colours were spotted by Shun.
"Crownless General," he said, his eyebrows furrowing. "I recognise the colours." His hands tightened around the wheel.
Shintaro swore under his breath and Kazunari put a hand on his shoulder as Seijūrō braced himself against the edge of the ship.
"Not good," he muttered. "Kazunari, take the wheel," he said louder. "Shun, help guide him. They don't have anyone like you two so we can try to lose them amongst the rocks." They obeyed their captain, but not before Kazunari and Shintaro had exchanged a look that made Seijūrō's heart ache. "Shintaro, ready the cannons. There's no way they're letting us go easily."
Even though the ship hadn't seen battle in some time, the crew still smoothly prepared the cannons, handing out weapons and barrels of gunpowder. Kōki obeyed what the more experienced crewmates told him, and made an exclamation of surprise when Seijūrō took his arm and dragged him into his quarters.
"You know we don't have time, right, captain?" he said with a grin.
Seijūrō shook his head. "You're going to leave the boat, Kōki. I'm not risking your life."
Kōki cocked his head. "You're planning to throw me off the boat?" His voice still had an element of amusement to it and he softened when Seijūrō glared at him (not the reaction he was hoping for; what happened to the days when the sight of him would send Kōki into nervous spasms?), reaching for his hand. "You were the one who hired me-"
"Shintaro hired you."
"Well, fine, but you approved me. You have to let me do my job, Seijūrō."
"Your job is to follow the captain's orders."
He stepped forwards to kiss Seijūrō quickly. "I'll be fine. You have a brilliant crew." His smile was bright and contented, even with the danger. "Crownless General has nothing on The Emperor. I've hardly heard any stories of them." Another kiss which ricocheted through Seijūrō like he'd never thought anything could and he gripped onto the fabric of Kōki's shirt. His shirt, in fact; he must have picked up the wrong one this morning.
"Please," he said, one last, desperate time.
Kōki brushed his hair back. "I have a loyalty to this crew. You can't force me, Seijūrō."
He left Seijūrō in the room and the shutting door was like a jail door closing.
"Why are you trying to dictate his life?"
The voice, so familiar, tore through Seijūrō and he turned swiftly to see Shūzō, eyes narrowed as he watched him.
"Shū…" he couldn't finish saying it.
Shūzō sighed and gave him an achingly familiar look filled with indignation, irritation and gentle fondness. "Didn't he run away from home so his life wouldn't be dictated for him?"
Seijūrō felt twelve years old again, watching the man and falling for him harder and harder. "I don't know," he said casually. "But apparently you do. Why don't you make the decisions?"
"I've made more of an impression on you than you like to admit, love." Seijūrō grimaced and Shūzō's eyes softened. "Sei, you can't make people's choices for them."
"I'm absolute," he hissed.
"And even so, I'm in every decision you make. Or made. Until you met that boy."
Seijūrō's eyes burned but he couldn't let himself blink in case Shūzō disappeared from in front of him.
"And even if you say you don't regret killing me, you're filled with guilt." He talked so softly, moving closer to him, until Seijūrō could have reached him so easily. Would he disappear completely if he did? "You haven't cried since that night, love." It was Shūzō who made the first move, brushing wetness from his cheeks – had he started crying? – and drifting his hand down slowly to trace along his bottom lip. His hands were as rough as ever from his life of working.
"You were there?"
His smiles were so rare that Seijūrō's knees weakened at this one – so beautiful and it made him seem so young, so alive. A sob came from him that he didn't even recognise, but he still couldn't let himself embrace Shūzō. "Stay. Please."
Shūzō was only a few centimetres taller than him now, so he hardly had to bend down – Seijūrō didn't even need to go up on his tiptoes as before – to press quick, light kisses to his mouth. Seijūrō trembled at the warmth and tightened his hands in Shūzō's dark hair and lost himself in the familiarity of Shūzō's hand pressing into the small of his back and the other tracing his jaw. When they finally separated, Seijūrō's hands still tight in his hair to keep him close, Shūzō answered with, "You know I'll always be here. But you don't need me. There's someone on the other side of that door that you do need."
"Shūzō," he said softly.
"Yes, love?"
"I… I love you."
"I know, my love."
"I'm sorry."
"I know." He kissed Seijūrō again softly, and when his eyes opened again Shūzō was gone.
His heart.
It had never beaten so fast, and never ached like this. He wanted to protect Kōki at all costs; he couldn't lose anyone again. But Shūzō was right; Kōki had left home to have his own life and not answer to other people. When his tears had dried he cracked the door open, wincing at the light, and searched for Kōki. He had his arms full of guns, but was smiling brilliantly, and the incongruent image made Seijūrō smile.
One last thing, before he joined him. He reached under his bed for a box, opened it and took out the gun. Shūzō's gun, that he'd used to kill the owner. He passed his thumb over the intricately carved pearl handle; it had never really been meant for battle – Shūzō had gotten it as a gift from his father – and pressed it to his chest. "I'm not letting you go, Shūzō," he said to himself, closing his eyes tightly for a moment.
The sunlight attacked him when he left the cabin, but he welcomed the burn. It meant he was alive, even if he didn't deserve it at this moment.
Kōki watched him with those transparent eyes – the absolute love in them that filled Seijūrō with a hopeful warmth – as he reached the edge of the ship, took a deep breath, and tossed the gun over the edge, watching the splash it made.
"Is everything okay?"
Seijūrō turned away from the past and felt all the strength of his new love. "Yes."
Kōki sighed in relief and smiled. "Good. I was hoping-" he was interrupted and his eyes widened as Seijūrō stepped forwards and kissed him. Damn what the others thought of him; there was no way he was hiding what he felt for Kōki.
Kōki did kiss him back for a while, before gently but insistently pushing him back. "You're trembling," he said, his cheeks darkening.
"I know," Seijūrō said with a short laugh. He kissed Kōki again quickly. "Are you ready to become a real pirate?"
Kōki's smile and light-hearted laugh was his entire world. "They won't know what hit them," he said.