Author's Notes: Not having much faith in this story at the moment, I don't know if I'm doing things right. x-x Hopefully this chapter will give some insight into the characters.


"Ryoma, over here!"

He turned and searched for the owner of the voice, slight excitement gnawing in his middle. Rouge was standing about ten yards away on the cobblestone harbour, tiptoeing and waving at him over the bobbing heads of the harbour crowd.

Workers on the dock bustled to and fro, carting luggage and cargo up the ships, operating small cranes to shift heavy wooden crates onto ready decks. Locals and visitors alike milled about, some having just disembarked, some awaiting journeys of their own. Parasols peppered the mass of heads, shielding genteel ladies of well-off families while children shrieked and played games of Chase around their disapproving mothers. Ships and large wooden boats were docked at the stone jetties close by. Glimmering waves lapped at their sides, reflective of the cheerful, cloudless sky. Deep horns sounded occasionally, alerting passengers to the departing ships.

Subconsciously, oblivious to his surroundings, Ryoma let his eyes roam over the fortune teller, even though he had just seen her the day before. She was dressed as she usually was, the amethyst on her head glowing in the early morning sunlight. A broad white strap was slung over her shoulder, attached on either end to a sturdy sling bag. Part of it bulged slightly over what could only have been her crystal ball. She smiled and stepped up to him, hands by her side. Her face glowed in a way that made his breath catch.

"Ready for the trip?" Her eye scanned over him, seeming to take stock of what he had. He did not miss the solemnity in her expression. Ryoma found himself wondering about her veiled eye. Did it look the same as the other, or was she hiding some kind of mark? What of her tent and possessions?

"A warrior is always ready for anything," he told her confidently, standing a little taller. As long as he had his swords, he wasn't afraid of any creature that breathed. That was what his sensei had taught him. It had proven true to date.

She broke into a smile, catching his hand and tugging him along. "I knew you'd say that! Come on, let's get going. The ship's departing in fifteen minutes."

Heat rose to his cheeks at the feel of her warm hand around his. The gesture was an intimate one that he did not want to be caught dead doing, yet here she was, hand in hand with him as if it was the most natural thing to do in the world. Weakly, he tried to free his fingers, trailing behind her. "I don't need my hand to be held!"

Even if it did feel good.

The woman either ignored him or missed his words, looking to her left and right. The golden bangle at the end of her swaying braid glinted. It was a brisk walk to their ship, a weather-beaten vessel painted red and white, with two rows of windows along its sides. It was by no means a huge liner, just a medium-sized ship with a double-storey deck, transporting both cargo and passengers to Fireland on a two-day trip. Grey smoke billowed out of its three funnels. Passengers hurried up the metal gangway, and the ticket-taker called for the last passengers to board.

"Here, I've got our tickets," Rouge murmured, finally releasing his hand to reach into her sling bag for their passes.

He blinked, remembering that tickets were required for the journey. For reasons he couldn't explain, seeing her had driven logic from his mind. A sense of appreciation for the woman came over him, despite his wariness. "Wow, you're one thoughtful woman, Rouge!" he let slip.

She blushed prettily, looking away as they approached the ticket collector, a pudgy man dressed smartly in a black uniform. Ryoma felt his pulse quicken, then a slight burst of envy and possessiveness, when the man ogled Rouge's retreating figure, stepping between them to hinder the latter's view. Surely this did not mean that he felt anything for the fortune teller other than friendship.

Once she set foot on the deck, Rouge turned towards him, gazing at him through her lashes. "You're a great man yourself, Ryoma."

His heart and feet stumbled simultaneously. Nervously, he backed away from her, casting about his mind for an escape. He should not have agreed to come in the first place. The woman was still a threat to his training even when he was here to help her. His cheeks coloured. "I've told you not to tease me like that!"

"All right, I'll try not to." She inclined her head, gold earrings dangling from her ears, pink lips curving in a mischievous smile. "What about standing over there? I'd love to see the last of Sunland for a while."

Without waiting for him to respond, she strolled off to the side of the deck, gazing down at the busy harbour. Ryoma exhaled and followed her, ignoring the glances the civilians threw at his swords. Were things going to be this way for the rest of the journey? Realising that she had moved quite a few paces ahead, he quickened his speed, joining her by the raised parapet around the deck, where other passengers were gathering. She had folded her slim arms on the smooth surface of the wall, gazing into the crowd below.

A massive, deep horn rippled through the air as the deckhands pulled the gangplank up the ship and stowed it away, allowing the vessel to slowly depart from the harbour. Water lapped strongly at the side of the ship, as if bidding it a safe trip. Not far below, people shouted goodbyes and waved, receiving waves and yells from the passengers on board. The collection of heads and bodies looked very much the same. He had to shout to catch her attention. "Is anyone sending you off?"

Her response of "No, but that's okay," was lost in the cacophony of noise. Instead, he felt her slip an arm around his, hugging it loosely. The resulting blush crept right up to his ears when his hand pressed into the side of her pants, arm brushing the warm curve of her bra. Ryoma squirmed. It wouldn't do to touch her, especially not there...

He tried to pull away, but they were well hemmed in by the mass of passengers bidding their loved ones goodbye.

Rouge pointed to something outside the ship suddenly. He followed her finger, squinting a little as they slowly gathered speed, sailing further away from Sunland.

Pushing his way to the front of the crowd was a blond, dressed bulkily in red. It was definitely not Tsurugi. The man reached the front of the jetty and waved, jumping about. A stick-thin male joined him, dressed in some butler's suit, silver-haired and agitated with the former's antics. Rouge waved at them with her free hand, laughing, surprise evident on her face. One or both of them were yelling, he could not be sure. What he was certain of, though, was the envy he felt at the familiarity she greeted them with. Somehow, it was almost as if she should be the most acquainted with him, but he did not know why. He cursed those hormones of his.

It was a while before Sunland became a speck on the horizon. The gathered passengers slowly drifted to the other parts of the ship, standing around on the deck or retiring below. Quiet filled the air, accompanied by a gentle sea breeze. There was a sense of finality to this, that made him feel as though he would not be seeing the prosperous town for a fair while. He turned to Rouge and blinked, startled.

She had been watching him for quite some time whilst he was lost in thought. The steady gaze of hers brought with it a little discomfort as he tried to end the silence. Why had she been staring? "Who were those two people who came to see you off?"

"Oh, that was the pilot I told you about," she explained, leaning into his arm. "The one who brought me to the play the other night. That was his butler with him, I think. Why, what's wrong?"

Ryoma struggled with the conflicting bubble of envy and logic, trying to drive jealousy out of his head. He had no right to think of Rouge as belonging to him in any way. As a samurai, he was bound for bachelorhood, and telling the fortune teller that would only implicate relations between them if she wanted something more. Thus, Ryoma remained silent.

She stared at him oddly, before releasing his arm, her smile never quite leaving her lips. Was she really that happy to be with him? Rouge touched his forearm with a soft finger, turning away from the water. Heat pressed into his skin. "Let's take a look at our room, Ryoma."

He was almost about to agree. Dread started to pile in his chest. "Wait, did you just say 'room'? We're sharing a room?

"Oh come on, surely it can't be all that bad," she coaxed him, curling her fingers around his. His mind screamed at him to let go. His feet refused to budge. Of all the scandalous things, she just had to choose sharing a room with him. It spelt nothing but danger. She smirked at him, her single eye twinkling. "Surely a warrior like you isn't afraid of looking into a bedroom."

That got him moving, though he tried to protest his innocence along the way. It was unsettling how she managed to wind him around her little finger with no effort at all. This had to stop soon.


"Hey, at least it's a couple of bunk beds, not a double bed," Rouge told the samurai light-heartedly, looking around the rest of the room. There was a single electric lamp hanging from the ceiling, and a sole round metal-edged window at the far end of the cramped room. On either sides of the door were bunk beds, each with yellowed pillows and thin mattresses. A small cupboard was backed up against the wall, its sky blue paint fading, and a tiny table with a matching wooden chair sat next to the window. Faint floral patterns adorned the walls. "Quite a decent room, if you ask me."

They were both standing in the aisle between the beds. Ryoma had left the door slightly ajar when they entered, unwilling to shut himself in the same room with the woman. Somehow the cabin seemed much smaller when they were both in it, closing them in and heightening their intimacy.

"But it isn't honourable for me to share a room with you, Rouge! I'm a samurai!" She spotted a trace of crimson of his face. That shyness amused and endeared him to her - if he only knew. Choosing to ignore his statement, she took an estimate of the bunks. They were about two-and-a-half feet wide each, suitable for just one person, but it would be a tight squeeze if two were to fit. It was probably wrong to indulge in such thoughts when her hometown was in danger. There was, however, little she could do while travelling. Spending her time well with Ryoma was a good alternative, especially if this was their last trip together. She wanted a taste of his body.

"It'll only be dishonourable if you try to rape me," she volunteered, her lips twitching in a smile. It was a delectable thought. Ryoma's entire face reddened as he sputtered, trying to come up with a defense.

Just as suddenly as the colour appeared, it was gone, when the floor tipped by a fraction under them, first to one side, then to the other. Ryoma clapped a hand to his mouth, paling. She was instantly on the alert, looking sharply at him and pushing on his shoulder to guide him down onto the bed. He was seasick. This did not bear well for their trip, should anything untoward happen.

He tried to resist, staying resolutely on his feet, relegating his arm to his side. His eyes avoided hers, though the sallow tone of his skin remained. "I'm fine, Rouge."

"No, you aren't," she retorted, prodding his stomach. He blanched a little more. The man was sure stubborn about keeping up his display of strength. The flesh behind his kimono top felt hard and strong, she could not help noting. It took some restraint to keep herself from feeling him up. His response completed the job easily.

"I'm a samurai, I can overcome this with some training!" He spoke a little thickly now, although his determination remained unwavering. He shifted his feet towards the door. "I'll go back upstairs and get started on it."

Her patience snapped suddenly - even she had not expected it of herself. Glaring fiercely at him, Rouge stepped forward, pushing at his chest with a finger, raising her voice. "Well, samurai, you aren't going to get much training done if your body isn't well enough to handle it! You aren't fooling me trying to be strong."

"I'm well enough for a slight bit of exercise!" he protested, turning away, looking wary of her. His eyes had widened at her outburst.

Rouge reached behind the man, shoving the door shut and easing herself between the entrance and him, feeling smooth wood against her back. He froze. There was barely inches between them now. She could almost feel the warmth emanating from his body. Her glare remained, preventing him from moving. There was no way he would touch her to exit. She had effectively trapped him in the room.

The ship proved her point by giving another small roll that sent more blood draining from his face. It scarcely affected her physical comfort. Without a word, Ryoma sat heavily down on the bunk closer to him, frowning at nothing in particular. "I guess you're right, Rouge."

Her eyebrows raised in surprise. Without pausing to let him change his decision, she stepped over and pushed at his shoulder to guide him further onto the bed. "Lie down and close your eyes, you'll have plenty of time to train after this."

He drew his swords out of his sash, placing them neatly on the far side of the bunk with a light clatter. The forest-green pouch came off next. She watched as he left the straw slippers on the floor, sitting back on the bed. "I'm not closing my eyes with you around!"

Now that he was on his way to some rest, her anger had ebbed away. She smirked, planting her hands on his shoulders and pushing him back down onto the mattress, so that his head nestled onto the pillows. A grunt of protest sounded from his throat. He tried to resist, gaze falling to the exposed cleavage of her bra. The blush was starting to arise again. She felt her nipples harden within their bounds, lowering her chest by a fraction to give him a fuller view of her breasts. His gaze seared over her skin. He squeezed his eyes shut.

"I don't have to sit on you to keep you down, do I?" she murmured, eyeing the sliver of his chest exposed by his kimono top. Him being up was a more delightful option, that she would keep to herself for the present.

"No, you don't!" He kept his eyes shut, turning away from her. The man looked taller than he was, all stretched out on the bed. She stood and admired his form for moments, wondering how his hard body would feel languidly stretched out beneath her. Ribbons of heat coiled in her middle.

Rouge fetched the chair from the other side of the room, depositing her bag on the table. The wooden chair lifted easily, barely fitting into the gap between their beds. He twitched when she settled down, watching him without a sound. The only noises came from outside, of people walking along the corridor and faint talking above deck.

Left with nothing to do, she found herself observing his face, how tanned his skin was from training under the sun, how his brows had relaxed slightly. His nose was stubby, just above a set of firm lips that probably needed some teasing before they yielded. Rouge was overcome by a sudden urge to touch them, feel their velvety texture beneath her fingertip. What if she forced a kiss from them?

His breathing evened out, suggesting that he might have fallen asleep. The dull material of his khaki vest rose and fell. Licking her lips, she smiled. This might be her chance to get up to some mischief, if luck allowed it.

Excitement rushed into her veins. She reached over gingerly with her finger, balancing carefully on her chair to prevent it from creaking. He remained fast asleep. The man hardly seemed to sense her movement as she held her breath, inching her fingertip over his face, till his warm breath fanned over her nail. Her heart pounded. Rouge bit her lip, her finger quivering slightly as she hovered it above his lips, a hair's breadth away. She was going to stroke his bottom lip, then his top, maybe even trail a line down his jaw.

His eyes snapped open suddenly, sending her jerking her hand back, pushing her entire body away from him, heart slamming into her ribs. A yelp tore from her throat. Ryoma looked sharply at her.

"What were you doing?"

"I was... um, looking at your swords," she lied, a flush creeping up her throat and across her cheeks. "How did you get them?"

She was unaware of her ragged breathing until his gaze fell to her chest, the white undergarment rising and falling rapidly. Her blush deepened; he seemed to wrench his meandering gaze back to her face. It would satisfy her curiosity to find out what went through that head of his.

He stared suspiciously at her. It was a while before he replied, turning his face away, looking up at the ceiling. The tips of his tied-up hair brushed the sheets. "My sensei gave them to me."

"Is he still alive?" She bit her lip immediately after, cursing herself for her bluntness.

"Of course he is!" He looked askance at her. "He has his own dojo in Moonland, and has been there for years."

"Did you spend a long time there as well?" She was starting to calm down, taking an interest in his history. Only then did she realise she knew close to nothing about him. Guilt waggled its finger at her.

"I've been there ever since I was six. After my father passed away from an illness, my mother begged Akuma-sensei to take me in as his disciple... He was a good teacher, but very strict." There was a distant look in his eyes as he glanced back upwards, rubbing his chin.

She leaned forward, holding the edges of her chair slightly, keen on hearing further. Ryoma felt more real to her somehow. While before, he was a friend she concentrated on bedding, the man was now someone she took far more seriously. "What about your mother? Is she well?"

"I do hope so. Akuma-sensei agreed to take care of her while I'm away on my travels. It's why I have to train so hard. I can't let both my sensei and my mother down, they've done so much for me. My mother's been growing and selling flowers to keep us afloat after my father was gone."

"That must have been difficult." She was starting to feel a little sorry for him, resting her hand on his mattress. Hesitantly, she ventured, "Do you miss your father?"

"I don't know. I was too young to remember much of him then... Sensei took his place in my life as a father to me, even though it wasn't necessary for him to. He taught me to fish when we went on trips to the river bordering Moonland, and even enlightened me with his honour code. I'm indebted to him."

"Your sensei must be very important to you, then," she observed, watching the familiar resolve set into his eyes. It was admirable and attractive at the same time. Something in her softened.

"He truly is a great man. I hope to be like him in everything I do." He chanced a glance at her. Hazy emotion and a very slight vulnerability swirled in his inky eyes. Her heart skipped a beat. She watched as his gaze flickered to his swords. "You may look at them."

Warmth flickered in her chest. His permission to touch those swords signified his trust in her, that she did not think she deserved. Rouge swallowed, looking over at his swords, acutely aware of his gaze on her.

Carefully, she reached over and slipped her fingers under his black-sheathed wakizashi, lifting it over to herself. It was surprisingly light for a metallic object. The ebony lacquered scabbard gleamed dimly, engravings breaking the reflection of the electric lamp. The designs were exquisite and smoothly carved, blooming from the opening of the sheath to the very end in the form of a sleek, coiled dragon. The carvings were marked with a deep red paint, as if to emphasize the lethality of the sword. She ran a finger over the dragon in awe, noting how it seemed to threaten the beholder. The etchings were so fine that they looked a sheen of red from a distance.

She looked up at him, returning the expectant gaze. "It's beautiful."

His lips twitched up in the hint of a smile. It transformed his appearance into something more youthful, and a tad so handsome that she bit her lip and glanced away, suddenly shy. She certainly had not thought that of him when they first met. Belatedly, she hoped that he had not taken her gesture as an insult. He seemed unaware of it. Across his prone body, she could see the sheath of his katana, which was a striking crimson, and decorated with two painted maroon stripes on the broader end. There were carvings as well, though these were just made up of lines and curves, painted white. Black cloth bound the handle of his sword. It was wider than the first weapon, and looked far heavier.

Silently, she replaced the wakizashi next to him, settling back into the seat between their beds. It felt as if there was a new proximity between them now, like they were connected in some way. "Thank you so much, Ryoma."

A tinge of red rose on his face, from the tips of his ears, down part of his throat. He looked away and laughed nervously to hide his blush, not shifting any further from her. "I- It was nothing."

Rouge relished his shyness, resting her fingers on his sleeved arm. A smile tugged at her lips. His warmth brought to mind the task they had set out for, drawing her back to reality with a heavy thud. Mahdad was still far from being out of danger, and she could not help wondering if Ganna was safe. She had not spoken a word to her mentor ever since she left. It had been a hot, still morning that day.

"You dreamed of a red moon?" Ganna had asked, mild surprise written over her aged face. Her eyes had glittered strangely, and she had placed a calloused hand on Rouge's clasped ones, taking a seat next to her on her worn bed. "What did you see beneath the moon?"

"I saw myself holding a crystal ball," she had answered with trepidation, studying the older woman's face, nervous with uncertainty. Mistress Ganna, who was old and wise, would know what the strange vision meant, for better or worse.

Her mentor's eyes had widened, and brightened with a gleam of pride. It occurred to Rouge that, being the Seer she was, Ganna had already foretold this day.

"It means, my daughter, that you're to become this town's Oracle one day."

She remembered vividly how her heart had stopped, and how she couldn't breathe. Ganna was already the Oracle, and she could not bear to think of the day when the woman had to leave her, when she had to take over the position. It was just not fair to benefit from any harm coming to Ganna. That, and she had no confidence of her abilities as a Seer for the entire town. "I don't think I can, Mistress Ganna. I'm not good enough yet!"

At eighteen years of age, she had pleaded with Ganna to at least let her delay the transfer of her responsibility. The fastest way she could build her experiences, she decided, was to travel the world. Her readings would be varied, and she would learn to deal with cultures across different countries. Ganna had very reluctantly allowed her to travel alone, because Rouge had not many close friends in Mahdad. The other females her age had been friendly with her, but none of them wanted, nor were permitted, to undertake the journey with her. Males had been out of the question. It was unspeakable to have an unmarried man and woman together for long periods of time.

On hindsight, Rouge felt that she had come a long way on her own, having spent the last five years travelling from country to country. It was still too soon for her to return as an Oracle, however. Not when she had not claimed her taste of Ryoma. The image of the samurai dropped her back into the present like a stone splashing into water.

Glancing over at her bag, she saw the vague shape of her crystal ball, her spirits sinking. The omen she had seen in her dream was a serious one. Nothing told of when the danger had started, nor what it was exactly. All she could tell herself was that Ganna was still alive and well.

"What's wrong?" Ryoma asked from the bed, his brows creased with concern as he watched her. By now, his pallid skin had regained a healthier glow. She found herself thankful for his recovery.

"I don't know... That dream I had worries me. Something bad might already have sunken its claws into Mahdad, and I'm worried for Ganna's safety." She looked down at her hands, wishing the boat would hurry to spare her of her wondering. Helplessness nagged at her conscience.

"Don't worry, Rouge. I'll make sure things go well for you." He patted her hand awkwardly, easily covering her palm with his large one. She tried to smile past the ripening worry, heart fluttering at his offer. It was starting to feel as if he was taking over her mind, with how much she thought about the man. This wasn't right, it was too dangerous. "Who is Ganna?"

Rouge blinked. She had forgotten that she never quite shed light on her past for him. And Ganna was so many things to her that she had to pick her words carefully. "Ganna is the Oracle of my hometown. She is... like a mother to me. She brought me in from the streets when I was five - I ran away from a children's home," she added at the quizzical lift of his eyebrows. Somehow, it felt important for him not to think badly of her, in case she chased him off with the slightest misdeed. "She clothed me and put a roof over my head in return for nothing, only that I remained a good child and did not commit any crimes... And she also taught me to read a crystal ball-"

"Can anyone do that?"

"No, as you have seen. But she saw that I have a gift for it, and she gave me the crystal ball I've been using." Ryoma's eyes flickered to her satchel on the table, before returning to her. "She was also my best friend for the longest time. I only have a few of them."

"It's hard to believe that you don't have many friends." The samurai slowly eased himself up on the bed, waving off her attempts to urge him back down. Now that he was looking at her at eye level, it felt a little intimidating holding his gaze, knowing that he knew enough to attack where she was vulnerable.

"Not everyone trusts the girl who dresses in far less than what the society dictates, and is still the Oracle's favourite student." She shrugged. "An Oracle is supposed to be upright and virginal." Inwardly she winced. She wasn't exactly a virgin.

"I trust you." he stared at her confidently, setting his hands on his knees. Rouge tried to quell the guilty thump of her heart. Would he still trust her if he knew what she truly was like? Probably not. It was far easier to force it out of her mind. She avoided his gaze, following the stiff binds of cloth around his hair, which ended in a raven brush. She did not - could not - trust him to stay.

A laugh bubbled from her lips, uncharacteristically mirthless. "Well, you shouldn't."

"I will until you prove me wrong." He stared at her almost insolently and paused for a moment, thinking. "I've been meaning to ask you - what of your tent and belongings in the town square?"

She blinked, lifted from the rut of self-derision. It surprised her that he had thought of it. "I've left them with a friend of mine, the pewter-seller's wife. She's kept them in storage for me, and will send them on their way when I require them back."

"Sounds good to me." Ryoma shifted closer to her. For a moment, her heart lifted in hope that he might reach over and touch her again, but he did not. Instead, he eased his feet into his slippers, collecting his swords swiftly. The clatter of wooden scabbards gave an air of finality to the conversation. "What do you say to some lunch? Can't keep a warrior starving!"

She sighed and followed him to the door, shaking her head, finally storing her doubts away. Perhaps all that talk about being a warrior was only to disguise his love for food.


Lunch had been a quiet business. They had joined the tens of other passengers in a dining room, that had mirrors along the walls, and simple gilded chandeliers hanging from the ceiling. Pearly floral wallpaper started where the mirrors ended, adding an air of opulence to the seemingly larger space. Throughout, there was the murmur of different voices mingling and cutlery clinking, as well as the occasional wail of a baby. The tables were all covered with white cloth, the chairs cushioned. It had been a class or two above their cabin.

Rouge had found out that the samurai loved noodles with soup - in exchange, he had reaffirmed her love for ice cream. Full with a decent lunch of corn, stewed chicken, mashed potatoes and greens, they had wandered to the deck to savour the sea breeze, watching as the infrequent dolphin glided alongside their ship.

The weather had seemed to disagree with the pleasant day. Deep grey clouds marched across the horizon, slowly advancing on them, as if closing in on a prey that had no means of escape. Their venture onto the deck had been cut short when the vessel started to rock, throwing Ryoma unceremoniously into nausea. Thus, they had returned to the confines of their small room, the samurai protesting Rouge's presence, claiming that he could well cope on his own. She had ignored him. As it was, they had remained in the room for a handful of hours while the clouds held from the attack, glowering angrily down at the ship. Roiling waves sent the vessel seesawing.

"It's close to dinner now. Why don't I go upstairs and see if there's anything for you when you're feeling better, Ryoma?" Rouge asked from her seat, watching his pale face worriedly. His swords were next to him once again, like faithful sentinels keeping watch on their master. At the doubtful lift of his brow, she continued, "It's bound to stop sooner or later, and you need your strength."

"I guess you could," he ground out, though she could see his effort to appear less affected by the rocking of the ship. It probably would not help to tell him that everyone had weaknesses, and that she did not think him any less of a man because of motion illness. Perhaps she could distract him long enough from the nausea to prove it? He spotted the playful wandering of her gaze and frowned; she patted his hand, smiling at him in question. "Thanks for being there for me, Rouge."

"You're welcome," she murmured, leaning down and cradling his head in her arms on impulse. Especially audible was his shocked gasp of breath. Rouge stopped herself just before his face pressed fully into her cleavage, allowing the blunt conical tip of her bra to brush his cheek. Her heart fluttered. On their own volition, her lips curved in a playful smirk. She had released him before he could protest, making no mention of the manly blush on his cheeks as she headed out of the door.

It was quieter along the corridors with the rocking of the ship. More people had retreated to their rooms, and as she walked along the narrow passages, passengers tottered unsteadily past her, some with pasty faces. The holiday cheer was dampened with uncertainty as a hush fell over the ship. The majority of those not seasick, she guessed, were probably in the dining hall.

Placing a hand on the decorated walls steadied her. The embarrassed expression on Ryoma still tickled her senses, made her wonder what had gone through his mind. It kept a light smile tugging on her lips. Greyish light glowing from the ceiling of the corridors drove a shiver down her spine. They had to trust that the ship would pull through the incoming storm. Her smile faded; she took her lower lip between her teeth. The worsening weather would bat the ship around among the waves, and they had no time to waste being stuck in a storm. She had to know if the trip to Fireland would take longer than they had expected.

The split-second decision was made, and she turned a corner, taking a detour up, where she had remembered seeing the Captain's control room. As compared to those on land, the stairs on the ship were steep and narrow, almost constrictive. Rouge winced, climbing a set of metal-edged stairs that brought her to the deck. Wind swept at her hair the moment she stuck her head out of the stairwell. From where she was, she could see dark angry clouds plastering the entire sky. There were rough, deep voices behind the shelter of the exit.

Cautiously, she made her way onto the deck and turned, eyes widening at the sight of five burly men sitting around on some crates, idly exchanging words and puffs of smoke. Their lack of concern startled her. With how the ship was rocking back and forth, they had to be sailors to treat it casually. They were dressed in thin, worn shirts and baggy pants, shaven just enough to look decent. For some reason, they all had crew cuts. Perhaps the hairdo made it simpler to keep themselves tidy while sailing.

"Saw tha' broad yer took back last nigh', Pete. She any good?"

"Aye. Feisty lil' thing, dam tight she was. Rode me as hard as I was gunna pay her."

The others chortled. "Yer wife's gunna gut yer like a pike if yer don't watch it, mate."

Their banter died down when they grew aware of her presence. Five pairs of eyes turned to stare at her. Her stomach jerked and flipped in anxiety. These were men who could overpower her if she played her cards wrong. It was obvious that either the Captain's command room was close, or they knew where it was. She had to get her answers. Wishing Ryoma were fit enough to come onto the deck with her, she stepped bravely forward, swallowing hard when their gazes coasted lewdly down her body, anchoring to her breasts. As uncomfortable as their attention made her, the concentrated focus on her chest heightened her awareness of herself, pebbling her nipples slightly. Thank goodness for bra padding. She cleared her throat loudly, lifting her chin.

"I'd like to know where the Captain is," she told them in the most commanding tone she could manage, keeping her face devoid of her strained nerves. Her heart galloped at the looks they exchanged.

"What's a pretty girl like yer wanna do with the Cap'n?" One of them spoke up amid the snickers that broke loose, clearly the leader of the pack. His shrewd eyes pierced hers, taking the liberty to run a visual scan down her body. She shivered and bit her lip. "Cap'n's busy with the ship, yer know. Any of us 'ere can do jus' fine."

"I want to know how long we're going to take to reach Fireland," she bit out, staring sharply at him. Ryoma wasn't here, but she could deal with this herself. No way would she give up when she was this close to Ganna. "And I want to hear it from the Captain himself."

"Now see here, Miss, if every lady is gunna go up to the Cap'n and ask how bloody long the ship's gunna take, we'd be shipwrecked in no time." The sailor's bloodshot green eyes narrowed. He folded his arms. "Yer better off elsewhere."

"Like in me bed," one of the others piped up coarsely. She flushed lightly at the insult, turning her best glare on the man. He turned to his friends in mirth. "She's a feisty one too, whad'ya know!"

"I happen to have important business in Fireland to attend to, if you could please hurry up," she snapped loudly at them, her patience thinning. No way was she going to argue with them till night fell. She had given Ryoma her word that she would be back with food, and she damn well wasn't going to break it. Her fists clenched with irritation, heart pounding with taut nerves.

"There, there, Miss, we ain't gunna hurt you. We was just toyin' with you," the leader told her gruffly, gaze dropping to her hands. Her knuckles were white. He turned and walked away. "I'll take yer to the Cap'n."

Slowly exhaling a shuddering sigh of relief, Rouge glanced warily at the seated sailors, before stalking off behind their leader. The blatant gazes were still on her back, probably on the curve of her ass. She frowned and pushed their attention out of her mind, staying on the alert in case this sailor decided to round on her. Ryoma's attention would have been a hundredfold more welcome. There were a couple other tricks she could fall back on if need be, but it was best not to disclose them too early. The obvious, of course, was the spot men were most vulnerable at.

The control room turned out to be a few yards and a short flight of stairs away from where she had emerged on the deck. Cursing herself at the irony, Rouge nodded her thanks when the burly sailor held the rounded door open for her, stepping into the gently humming room.

"Miss got a question for yer, Cap'n," the sailor announced.

At the opening of the door, the Captain, as well as two other sailors present, had looked over from the wooden-carved steering wheel, his grey eyebrows raising in surprise when she stepped in. Rouge saw at once that he was a man of dignity, with his pressed navy-blue uniform and smart, polished cap. He smiled and nodded at her, wise face patient and undemanding. It almost felt as if he could be her father. She nodded back, finally relaxing, her face aglow when she returned the smile.

Around them, buttons and knobs stood neatly in rows, lit by small spotlights on the ceiling, and fading light slanting in through the glass windows. There were a couple of padded chairs around, but the old man remained on his feet. The gruff sailor stood at the door, just in case his services were required. To a side, the First and Second Mate examined a map spread out on a wide wooden table. Looking around, she realised that the control room was twice as large as her cabin.

"Bad day out to be sailing," the Captain remarked lightly, occasionally turning the knobbed wheel. She blinked at his calm, surprised. It had never been necessary to seek out the commander of her vessels prior to this.

"Indeed it is," she responded without missing a beat. Her gaze slid to the old man's face. "How do you do, Captain?"

"I'm fine, thank you." He shifted his eyes away from the front of the ship, glancing at her. "And what brings you here, young lady?"

"I have urgent business to tend to in Fireland, and I was hoping that you could tell me if the ship will be delayed much in this weather." She clasped her hands behind her back, lowering her chin. The captain seemed such a good person that she felt a twinge of guilt for inconveniencing him. "My apologies for intruding."

The man rested a palm on her shoulder, gazing upon her with a kindly face. "What business is it, if it's not too personal to share?"

"I want to make sure that my surrogate mother is safe." She breathed a sigh when he released her shoulder, wondering if not concentrating on the ship's path for a few moments might lead them off-course. The floor continued to rock beneath them. She ignored the fact that the sailors around might be listening in. "I've heard that my hometown is in danger."

"Oh dear." The Captain frowned, shaking his head. He returned his gaze to her. "I'll make sure we'll hit the port safely, young lady. If the storm ceases by tonight, we should be able to reach our destination by noon the day after tomorrow. I'm truly sorry about your situation."

"Thank you, Captain." She smiled gratefully at him, taking her leave. Half a day off-schedule.

"Stay safe," he bade as she stepped out of the door, watching her through the window. With a final glance of appreciation at the old man, she thanked the sailor, not waiting for his grumbling reply, descending the stairs and stalking briskly through his mates. The nagging discomfort returned when they lay their eyes on her. Her skin prickled. All she wanted to think about was how she would be away from their lewd stares soon, and how she wished Ryoma was around. Gods, she missed that man.

Grasping the metal handrail, Rouge all but threw herself back down the narrow stairwell, heaving a breath of relief once she was out of sight again. The empty corridors looked almost welcoming. Now that she had a faint idea of when the ship would reach its destination, she was slightly less worried, though it did not prevent her from being anxious about the welfare of her mentor. At the very least, the sailors had not followed her down.

Rouge strode quietly through the maze of corridors, hoping to lose the sailors there if they had somehow tailed her. The dining hall was crowded with passengers. It was relatively simple to slip in unnoticed, mingling with the crowd to reach the food vendors at the far end. The large white handkerchief she had brought along was barely wide enough to store the buns she purchased for Ryoma and herself. It was heartening to see that there were others who did the same, be it due to necessity or a shortage of funds. She wove her way back out, finding her way to her cabin with more ease than the previous moments had been.

Ryoma looked up at her as she entered the cabin quietly, letting the door shut with a comforting click behind her. It was quiet in the room, and she felt far safer with the man's presence, unwilling as she was to admit it. The bundle of bread fell lightly onto her bed.

"You were gone longer than I expected. Did something happen?" He continued to watch her. There was nothing but concern in his voice, and it struck her how much she appreciated this man. It was as if she had found something in him, something intangible that she wanted to hold on to, with his honour, strength and endearing shyness. Her heart squeezed; she shivered at the memory of the sailors, their gazes as sharp as rakes on her skin.

"N-no, nothing did." Without reason, she sunk to her knees next to Ryoma, overwhelmed with the relief that he probably was not aware of, burying her face in his warm chest. Her trembling fingers curled into his kimono top. She squeezed her eyes shut, revelling in his musky scent, wanting to forget everything except the hard planes of his chest, and how he had started to pat her head awkwardly. The encounter with the sailors was far from the worst blow she'd had, but even so, his mere presence brought her comfort, and his touch felt exquisite. She was already feeling better, but his warmth was too good to pull away from.

"May I sleep with you tonight, Ryoma?" Her words came out muffled against his shirt, a world away from what she had intended.

"What?" He stiffened, hand pausing in midair. Only then did she fully realise what she had asked of him.

"Uh, may I sleep next to you?" Rouge coloured, glanced up at him through her lashes, nuzzling his chest. He squirmed against her. She forced herself to pull away from him, to show that she could behave.

It was a long while before he finally answered. "All right. But don't try anything funny, I'm warning you!"

With a curbed enthusiasm, she sat herself on his mattress, easing off her slippers and climbing over him. He stared, eyes wide, blushing as he savoured the catlike grace of her body. There was no question that their positions were intimate. She settled into the sliver of space between him and his swords, a soft sigh escaping her lips.

"Aren't you going to eat?" She smelled of jasmines and the salty sea breeze.

"Maybe later," she purred.

Ryoma swallowed hard when she nestled into his pillow, wrapping her arms around his. On hindsight, this was ten bad ideas rolled into one. He bit his lip and tried to shift away to allow her more space on the narrow bunk. His heart thumped against his ribs. What on earth had he been thinking when he agreed? She hugged his arm more tightly, her eyes slipping shut, rubbing her body into him. Her soft breasts pressed into his biceps. This couldn't be happening. A steady flush rose on his cheeks.

"Rouge!" Oh, right. She had looked desperately in need of comfort.

"Oh! Sorry, Ryoma." The woman slipped him a foxy smile, drawing away slightly, her soft fingers trailing over his skin. His breath stumbled in his throat. The nausea was fading, but in return, blood was starting to stir in his loins. He pushed his head back into his pillow, trying to make himself disappear.

Filled with regret, Ryoma could only hope that she did not visit him in his dreams. This was going to be a hellishly long night.