A/N: This fic will be multichaptered. I know that's really shocking considering I am a one-shot wonder. It's set in the Golden Age of Piracy. Haru and Tokaku are the main pairing but there will be other pairings and characters involved. Just a warning- this will have a sort of harem feel since some pairings will have an open relationship. There will be no love triangles. With that all said please get comfy. Thank you for reading!
X
The sea breeze blew open the sheer white curtains and sunlight gently poured into the bedroom. A young woman stirred under silk bedsheets, then turned to avoid the light in her eyes. She tossed again, finding no reprieve.
The bedroom door opened suddenly and heavy boots tromped through the room, purposely interrupting the young woman's rest. The footsteps stopped at the end of the bed. In her half-awake state, she mumbled, ". . Tokaku?" Her voice was raised, hopeful, but as her eyes blinked away sleep and her surroundings came into focus, her smile deflated.
"Honestly! How long do you intend to sleep, young mistress?" Her maid, a woman nearing her fifties, threw off the blankets.
"Haru is sorry, Martha. Haru is just. . ." she trailed off, ashamed to say she didn't see a point in getting up these days. She slowly rose out of bed, Martha trailing behind her, fussing over her hair and suggesting clothes for her to wear today. Haru did her best to smile, to seem interested, but getting dressed for no one felt pointless. Martha would suggest friends to invite, but it simply wouldn't be enough.
After she was bathed, dressed, and fed, Haru drifted off to Tokaku's study. The room was just as her partner left it, immaculate and clean, the walls lined with books and maps of the ocean as they knew it. As she stepped into the room, she felt cold, knowing that Tokaku wasn't sitting in the chair, eyes pouring over government documents. The few times Tokaku was home, Haru would check in on her at night and find her passed out over a mountain of papers. When she chanced upon that image, she already had a blanket at the ready to place over her shoulders. Their house, on a cliffside facing the beach and the port town they lived in, was warm and balmy during the day, though at night one had to be careful of the chill in the air.
Haru's fingers ran along the polished desk. It had been a year since Tokaku sat here at this desk. A year since she went on assignment with the Royal Navy. One long year. . . Haru leaned against the desk and crouched down on her knees, heart aching.
She wondered each day where Tokaku was. She glanced at the maps on the walls and different places came to mind, though she knew Tokaku would be on the open sea. How strange it must be to live on a boat, to not see land or feel the dirt under your shoes. Haru wasn't sure how Tokaku did it, even if it was as she had said: "Out of a sense of duty."
Was Tokaku thinking of her as fervently as she was thinking of her now? Did Tokaku also struggle out of bed each morning, knowing Haru wasn't there to greet her with a smile? Did her body also ache to be held and loved, to feel reassured?
There were letters. Several in Haru's dresser, letters containing words of love and affection with Tokaku's usual subtlety. Haru had read and reread those letters more times than she could count, her heart squeezing every single time she read them. Somehow, letters were not enough. They carried Tokaku's words but not her voice, and the responses were slow. Haru didn't want letters anymore.
If Haru allowed her thoughts to drift further, she would begin to worry about her partner's health or whether she would come back alive at all. Mail was slow and some of her acquaintances whose spouses were also in the Royal Navy had learned that hard way that they were now widows.
Haru wondered if it was selfish of her to worry most after a whole year whether Tokaku still loved her. She worried about that more than anything. Especially since Tokaku's last letter said she was on her way home and estimated she would be back by mid-July.
It was late August now and the house on the cliff overlooking the sea was empty, save for three servants and Haru. It was at times like these that Haru felt Tokaku was nothing more than a ghost that her entire being yearned for.
X
The day dragged and when night fell she was grateful to sleep away the thoughts haunting her mind. A new problem presented itself when she found she couldn't fall asleep, staring up at the ornate ceiling, listening to the crickets chirp outside and the waves crash instead of her own worries.
She sighed. When Tokaku was here, her entire body felt lighter than air. Without her, her body felt like a giant weight and her heart was the cage that trapped her here.
"You promised Haru you would be here," she whispered, tears welling up in her eyes. She had tried earnestly to smile for a year, but these past few months had been the hardest out of all of them.
"Sorry. You said smiling suits Haru but. . . it's so hard. It's so hard without you!"
"The target is awake," a voice muttered from the darkness.
Haru's heart jumped. "Who's there?!"
A figure emerged from the shadows, facial features obscured, carefully keeping themselves from the light of the moon. The form was noticeably tall and their hair long and bushy, tied up in a high ponytail.
"Hello, Ichinose. We've come to 'free' you." This speaker's voice was different from the first one. How many of them were there?
"Take anything you want," Haru said, strangely calm.
"Ho ho, How strange for someone to toss aside their valuables. We haven't even begun to negotiate yet," a third voice joined in.
"Don't tease her. The poor woman is scared."
"Being a prince does suit Chitaru after all," a softer voice chimed in.
"Please! You can have anything. Haru's bureau- it's where we keep our savings. And in the closet are several dresses made of silk and surely the buttons are worth-"
Laughter interrupted her pleas. "We've not come to pillage your home, lass."
"Then. . . why are you here?" Haru dared to ask.
"For you."
Haru blinked, and then surprised the motley crew with laughter of her own. "That's silly! This is a joke right? Haru is. . .," her voice lowered darkly, "nothing of importance."
Her hands knotted in the bedsheets. Where was Tokaku all this time? Where was she now? No one was there for Haru. What would these kidnappers gain from taking her hostage?
Oddly, she felt flattered that they came for her. It was the first time in a year that she felt wanted. Whoever these bandits were, they needed her. And it seemed they had no intention to kill her; she was still breathing even after discovering their presence.
"Why do you need Haru?" she asked curiously.
An arm wrapped around her and a wet cloth was placed over her nose. Instantly her body dropped in the assailant's grasp.
"That is not your concern," one of the voices dryly answered.
X
To walk on land was strange, Tokaku thought as she went up the hill. The ground was firm and did not give. It did not sway like the ship she had lived on the past year. It was troubling to get used to. Her comrades had suggested she wait and get used to terrain again, but she jumped off the boat as soon as she could. The only thing she could think of was coming home. Coming home to Haru.
She was nearly out of breath when she reached the door, amazed that it was just as she left it. Would Haru also be the same or had she changed? Did she still love her or had Haru learned to scorn Tokaku, angry that they had been separated too long?
"Young Master!" Martha ran towards her as she closed the door behind her. The woman wore a panicked look on her face, her eyes bulging and red from tears, and the corner of her jaw was trembling.
"Martha!" Tokaku grasped the maid. "Did something happen to Haru?" Her worst fears were being realized. Tokaku sorely hoped this was the beginnings of a nightmare, that she would wake soon in her bunk.
Before Martha could speak, Tokaku pushed her aside, racing up the steps. She noticed the bare walls where once paintings and swords had hung. She tore open the door to their bedroom, eyes searching every corner for her wife, only to find her bureau drawers and other furnishings torn asunder, the valuables pillaged.
Tokaku could care less that those objects were missing. She raced to the bed and saw the imprint of where Haru's form had lay in those last moments. Her hand pressed against the bedding, warm only from the sunlight.
In her unit, Tokaku had a reputation for her cold demeanor. None of them would never be able to imagine her now, sinking to the floor in tears.