Song Title: In Your Eyes by Kylie Minogue
Time passed without much action again, but Berwald was kept busy as he incorporated sparring practice into his daily tasks until one day he was deemed ready to move onto firearms. Before that, he trained using the melee weapon gifted to him by the captain - a long steel staff. Bitterly, he found that he was quite adept at using it, and that it suited his fighting style nicely. The North Sea King had an eye for matching talent to weapon it seemed…
For some reason, Berwald got excited when he heard that the Reaper himself would be teaching him. It was a much-welcomed break from the exuberant and brutal Dane and his lessons. So when he was visited by the Finn with equipment in hand one afternoon when they stopped at a port, he was more than willing to start. The two walked along the shoreline in relative silence to a destination far away from town so they could practice.
The Reaper settled on a large field near the edge of town and began setting up. He worked meticulously, deciding not to wear his mask should someone stumble upon them and knew who he was.
Berwald watched curiously as the smaller blond did everything in a practiced motion. The space was nice and peaceful, a cool breeze blowing through the grass.
Empty wooden crates were placed at various intervals next to each other and at different distances. On top of them were empty bottles of alcohol used as targets and below laid a large cloth.
"It's easier to clean the shattered pieces like this," the Reaper explained when Berwald eyed the tarp. "Emil wants to collect them for his artillery cannonballs."
The Swede quickly discovered that the other's method of teaching was completely different from Mathias'.
When everything looked ready and it was time to start, the Reaper motioned for Berwald to have a seat on one of the crates. "I know it was the captain's orders for you to start firearms training," he began. "But if you don't want to, you don't have to do this."
Berwald blinked. He was being given a choice?
"Like I said, I don't want to put you through anything you're not comfortable with."
The blond opened and closed his mouth a couple of times before being able to stammer out "I…I want to," He remembered Lovino telling him that the Reaper once killed a crew member who underwent the exact same type of training he was going through right now.
Is he testing me?
He looked into those jaded amethyst eyes but saw that they held no malice against him. If anything, they seemed concerned for his well-being.
"All right then, well," The platinum blond strolled over to him, offering Berwald the rifle he carried over his shoulder. They didn't have enough firearms to go around at the moment. "Most people are excited about holding a gun for the first time. Would you like to just go crazy with it for a bit? I'll watch,"
Berwald shook his head, not trusting himself with the firearm. "Dunno how to use one,"
The Reaper wore a curious expression but kept his musings to himself. He chuckled a bit as he sat on a crate across from the Swede with rifle in hand. "Okay, then let's begin. I apologize for the boring lecture, but I would like to cover the basics first – especially safety," he gave him a small smile. "Because the most unfortunate thing to happen is to have your own weapon harm you."
The blond didn't mind listening to that soft voice as the Reaper explained the parts on the rifle and the proper way to handle the firearm. He was shown how to load the weapon and absorbed as much of this new knowledge as he could. He had no idea how many ways firing the weapon could go wrong.
When the lecture was done and it was time to shoot the targets, the Reaper demonstrated to Berwald the proper stance to take and the actual firing of the rifle.
"Keep your feet about a shoulder-width apart in a straight line and shoulders squared like this." He then aimed the gun at one of the nearby targets. "Try to keep both eyes open when you aim and pull the trigger the moment before you exhale - your shot is most accurate during that time. Once you fire, you'll feel a small recoil so hold your position for a bit longer for a clean follow-through, like so," In a few seconds, the Reaper was quiet as he concentrated. The moment he fired the rifle, a tall beer bottle shattered and fell to the floor. The Finn then turned to Berwald and smiled, holding the rifle up to him once he reloaded it. "Now it's your turn,"
The Reaper made it look so easy. It wasn't.
Shot after failed shot, Berwald couldn't even hit the targets closest to him. The bullet wasn't going where he wanted it to and the recoil of the gun was a new sensation to him. The bottles were too far away, blurry in the distance. Everything was going against him.
But the Reaper was patient and encouraging. "Don't worry, you're doing great. Take your time on your target; it takes practice. I'm sure if you keep this up, you'll be better than me in no time,"
Berwald highly doubted that last sentence. After seeing the stunts the Reaper can pull, the man was in a league of his own…The guy has a perfect aim even when he's flying through the air while he couldn't even hit a still target!
The Swede was so focused on trying to at least hit the crate the bottles were sitting on that he didn't notice the Reaper approaching him.
"Berwald?"
Said blond turned his head to face the other when he called his name, hands still tight on the rifle in slowly-rising frustration. He was a patient man, but those bottles were outright mocking him at this point.
The Reaper gave him a smile before saying "Please try to relax a bit, maybe it'll help if I adjusted your stance a bit?"
"Mmn." Berwald nodded his head with a grunt...anything to blast those bottles into pieces. He felt gloved hands gently on him as the Finn angled his body this way and that. It slid over his hunched shoulders and rolled them back. Tan boots knocked against his own brown and embroidered ones as the Reaper encouraged him to bring his feet out a little bit farther apart. His arms were straightened and posed by those guiding hands, and Berwald was beginning to forget what this was all for, feeling the tender touches a bit too much until they left his body.
This feels nice…Berwald caught himself thinking and shook off the notion before it could linger any longer in his mind.
"Okay, one more thing," the Reaper left his side to push the closest crate to them even closer. When he returned he gave him the okay to try again.
He still missed by a long shot, not even hitting the wooden crate beneath. Berwald grumbled incoherently.
"Hmm," the rifleman was closely watching him now. He continued to push the crate closer to the Swede without it being right in front of him in intervals.
Berwald didn't see the point in that, each push a small insult to him. Squinting his cyan eyes menacingly, he fired yet again at the close target and heard glass shattering.
"You did it! What an amazing shot, Berwald!"
I…did it? I shot something?
The realization of his feat and the praise given to him made the blond feel warm inside, his lips curling into a small smile on their own.
"Do you think you can do that again? But this time, try not to squint. Keep your eyes open," the Reaper gently coaxed, pointing to his own amethyst eyes for emphasis. They held genuine respect and delight in them.
The taller blond obliged and prepared to fire again, excited. His optimism deflated fast however when he missed again…the previous shot probably a fluke. He turned around dejectedly to his mentor. It was then that he was met with violet orbs staring intensely at him, boring straight into his soul. They searched his features, specifically his eyes. Berwald was starting to feel warm again under the scrutinizing gaze, but found that he could not look away and break eye contact. The other had a distant look to him, as if deep in thought. Their bodies were close to each other again.
Neither said anything for a moment.
"Oh, I'm so sorry," the Reaper apologized when he sensed the other's discomfort. "Don't feel bad, Berwald. I'm sorry I pressured you like that. You are doing an excellent job and your stance is spot on!" He turned a bit to scan the hit target and the distance between it and them. The Finn then smiled as he suggested "I think that's enough for one day. We covered a lot this afternoon, so why don't we stop here for now? We'll be in town for a few more days, so we can pick this up again tomorrow if you want,"
"Mm, okay." Berwald agreed easily, feeling like he has embarrassed himself in front of the Reaper enough for a lifetime. A warm hand on his shoulder snapped him out of his reverie.
"These things take time, so don't be so hard on yourself. You're doing great, Berwald. You're a fast learner; I know you'll get the hang of it soon."
Again, Berwald didn't know how to take all of these compliments in. It was definitely something the captain and his former boss never said to him earnestly. Did the Reaper really believe in him? In what he can do?
Does he really think that of me?
The platinum blond swiftly cleared the area up and they were back on the shoreline near late afternoon. "It's pretty, isn't it?" The Reaper tried striking conversation as their boots left prints in the soft sand. He motioned towards the glistening teal waters of the sea with the tip of his black hat.
Small waves rose and crashed gently against the shoreline, pushing frothy white foam towards their boots before being pulled back into the ocean once more.
"Nhn. Thank you…fer teachin' me," he mumbled softly, his gratitude expressed a little late as always. "I'll try harder next time."
The Reaper slowed in his steps but continued towards the ship, shifting the crates in his arms and rifle on his shoulder. He smiled faintly as he turned his head around for a second. "I like your enthusiasm. And no need to thank me - it's my pleasure."
Berwald would be lying to himself if he said that he wasn't looking forward to rifle training. When Peter heard what he has been up to, the young pirate turned green with envy and demanded to know why he was given lessons by his role model and not him. The poor Swede didn't have an answer to that and suffered a thrashing from the lad in order to prove to the Reaper that he was going to be the greatest pirate the world has ever seen. Thankfully, said Reaper heard what the fuss was about and placated the boy by offering him candy and the promise that he would teach him once he got older and became taller than Berwald. Peter swore to do everything in his power to grow up faster and taller from that day forward.
On the last day they would be staying at this port, the two made their way to their destined spot and set up practice quickly. Berwald was getting the hang of the routine and was ready to be ridiculed by the empty bottles yet again when the Reaper appeared beside him.
"Berwald, before you start today, why don't you put these on?" The smaller male placed a pair of wire-rimmed glasses into his hands.
"Hm?" Berwald gingerly inspected the accessory. The steel frame was square and the lenses polished – they were not cheap. He didn't even know he was nearsighted until he placed the glasses on his face and his vision was given a new life. Apparently, the Finn figured that out as well after their training sessions. Berwald saw clearer, better, farther. The bottles of alcohol were no longer floating orbs and mass on a tan rectangle. He saw the texture of the wooden crates, the sheen of the bottles when the sun reflected off them at a certain angle. The blades of grass were sharper and more defined below them. And then there was the Reaper.
"What do you think? How are you feeling?"
The Swede couldn't help placing a hand over his mouth in silent awe.
He could better see the features of the rifleman now. Those violet eyes were so brilliant, ashen but holding a deep and rich color to them. There were thin, dark rings under those eyes, indicating lack of sleep and fatigue. His skin was still porcelain and smooth. The man looked even more stunning than before with his improved sight - sight that has been bestowed upon him by said man.
"…Better," he managed to utter. "But why? When? These are expensive,"
"I had them made in town a couple of days ago. You see better now though, right? That's all that matters." The Reaper smiled with his eyes closed. "Don't worry about it, as long as it helps you see, it's worth every coin,"
"I'll pay ya back,"
"No, no, don't bother," the platinum blond raised a white gloved hand. "You need to save up to get off the ship, remember?"
The man was right. "Are you sure?" Berwald asked warily. He knew better than to take things for free, especially something this valuable from a pirate.
"Absolutely."
"Thank you, Reaper." He remembered to thank him in a timely manner this time.
"You're very welcome."
The glasses helped, but that didn't mean it solved all his problems. Berwald still couldn't quite knock the targets out, but he was getting closer. The bullets nicked the sides or top of the bottles and he was hitting the crates more often now. That was something worth celebrating, right? But when he did hit one of the bottles near the front, the Reaper would be sure to acknowledge and praise him. It made him feel…special, like he did something right for a change.
"Say, Berwald?"
"Hm?" He was in the middle of reloading the rifle.
A gentle breeze blew past them and created waves on the low grass.
"What will you do once you pay for your freedom?" The Reaper suddenly asked him, his legs crossed as he sat on one of the empty crates, eyes trained on the Swede.
Berwald lowered the firearm a bit. He didn't dare look into those curious violet eyes lest he wanted to reveal his soul to the other man again.
"Where will you go?"
The blond actually didn't know and admitted it to the Reaper, a bit timid and wary that the captain will find out and attempt to capture him again.
"I see," the Finn said understandingly.
Berwald has lost track of how long he has been detained by the pirates…months…maybe even half a year now? Did he even want to leave anymore? What will he do afterwards? Go back to being a laborer or rough trade? He didn't think that far ahead, focused solely on getting off the ship. His brows furrowed and expression turned grim as he thought about it. He didn't know…
But the Reaper didn't pry any further, leaving it at that. "Well, wherever you go, I hope that some of the things you learn here can help you in some way."
The field was then filled with the sound of gunfire again.
It was back out to sea again for the Draugen. Because of this, the rifle lessons had to wait until they anchored once more. This meant it was back to melee weapon practice with the North Sea King…oh the joy. The captain insisted that Berwald needed to train consistently as to not forget what he's learned. But to be honest, Berwald was just content with hauling cargo than put up with the Dane's antics. The novelty of fighting Mathias all the time faded fast and instead became tiring and not worth the effort at one point. It was times like those that reaffirmed Berwald's determination to run away as soon as possible. But then there were times after the fighting and he was done with all his other tasks in which he second-guessed himself. The Reaper's questions haunted him from time to time. What was he going to do after all this? Where would he end up?
Berwald thought to himself on this matter on his cot, whittling away at a piece of driftwood he found not so long ago. He had learned the basics of the skill back at the orphanage and kept at it in his spare time. It became a hobby even back at the brothel when there were slow nights. With a portion of the crew members now residing in their sister ship, there was much more space and privacy in the sleeping quarters. He rather much enjoyed the extra space and let his mind wander, hands deftly working on the driftwood and chipping off the rough edges and dried bark.
Arf! Arf!
"Hanatamago," The Swede greeted the Maltese who slowly made her way to his cot near the end of the ship. She was no longer a white blob walking up to him with his new glasses. She nudged against his boots, pestering for his attention, which he immediately gave after putting down his handiwork.
The small white dog was sitting on his lap and being cuddled by him by the time the Reaper finally went downstairs and found her.
In mild irritation, the Finn crossed his arms across his chest as he eyed his dog. "Hana, what did I tell you about bothering Berwald?"
"I don't mind," Berwald interjected, petting the Maltese's curly fur. He received an encouraging bark in return.
"If you insist…" At this the Reaper stopped to notice what the taller blond has been doing. "Were you working on that?" he pointed a gloved finger at the woodwork.
"Mm, it's a hobby of mine," he shared, finding it easier and easier to converse with the other man. The smile sent his way sure helped.
"What are you making?" The Reaper leaned in closer, intrigue in his amethyst eyes.
"Dunno yet, haven't decided. I just started," He motioned towards the piece of driftwood that was just smoothed out. Then a thought occurred to him. "What's yer favorite animal?"
"Huh?" The question caught the other man off guard and he took a moment to answer. "Oh, uh…a bear I suppose,"
"Then I'll make that."
"What? Oh you don't have to…"
But it was too late and the Swede's mind was made up.
By now Hanatamago has gotten off Berwald's lap and was scooped into the platinum blond's arms instead where she laid her head against his chest and fell asleep.
The Reaper readjusted the small bandana on her head before taking a seat on the empty cot across from the other. He watched in immense fascination as the taller male resumed his work and picked up the small blade and driftwood again. Violet eyes remained fixated on those hands as they transformed the piece of wood into something resembling an animal. It was taking form before his very eyes and he said "You're so talented, Berwald. I wish I could do something like that," His voice was soft and light in order to not wake the Maltese.
At this the bespectacled blond's hands slowed in what they were doing. "Mhn."
This comment ran along the same line of compliments he heard before at his former job for his deeds and other "talent." He knew the customers' words were hollow and fake, saying anything in an attempt to get something more out of him…the praise no longer held any meaning to him. But when it came out of the Reaper's mouth, it was different. Berwald felt light and proud from those encouraging words. The other wasn't expecting anything for his compliment; he never did and has been giving them away freely since Berwald boarded the Draugen.
The Reaper continued to smile a bit and watch a slightly flustered Berwald in his craft when he heard a voice coming from the staircase.
"There you are, Reaper. The idiot told me to fetch ya – he wants to see you in his cabin." Emil poked his head in, a puffin sitting on his left shoulder.
The black bird looked over at the two before giving a raucous squawk.
When he saw the Finn rise from the cot and give him an acknowledging nod, he thought that was good enough of a response and his job was done. The Deacon turned around on the heels of his brown shoes and went all the way back up to his crow's nest.
"I have to go now," the smaller man said softly, shifting Hanatamago in his arms. He eyed Berwald sadly as he requested "Would it be too much trouble to leave her here with you while I'm gone?"
"Not at all."
The Reaper thanked him, planting a tender kiss behind the white dog's ear before gently laying her sleeping form on the cot next to Berwald's side. Soundlessly he was out of the sleeping quarters.
Berwald worked feverishly on the wooden carving, hoping to have it completed before the man returned.