News : Hi everyone. I hope you're all doing well. Once more I owe you an apology for the delay. Turns out being stuck in the biggest writer's block of my life wasn't enough, I also decided to get sick. And I sort of freaked myself out into thinking it was the nasty coronavirus. Add that to the stress of getting all my job applications being rejected and you get extremely tardy chapters. I promise I'm trying to get back to my weekly posting schedule as best I can. It's a little difficult at the moment. So thank you for sticking around and putting up with me. To reward your patience, I made this one extra long.
Alright, that's enough stalling. Enjoy!
(Sorry if you find any typos, I'll go over them when I have time)
Seto's POV
The state he's in can't possibly be called sleep. Sleep involves being plunged in complete relaxation of the mind and body alike, and occasionally, have nonsensical images fill your head until you can separate the illusion from reality. That last bit applies to normal people at least. Seto's mind has only ever been riddled with detestable memories.
However, this state isn't being awake either. He knows where he is. In his chair, sprawled out across his mahogany desk and his face buried in the elbow of his folded arms. He can hear the sea and the sailors working outside. Yet his body has stopped responding to his commands. His mind, however, refuses to settle and instead incessantly shows him images of Yugi and Mokuba. He has no time to waste sleeping. But here he is, in this floating, irritable state. Seems this is the only compromise his exhaustion is willing to accept.
It's not like there's anything you can do.
His inner voice irritates him just enough so that he opens his eyes and rises from his restless not-sleep. A long sigh leaves him and he dares not check his pocket watch for fear of time not having passed. Until the Blue Eyes reaches Beruga, there is nothing he can do.
Without knowing really why, his hand reaches into the chest pocket of his coat to take out the little vial with the glistening liquid. It really does look like a diamond. Clearer than water somehow. He tried to take a whiff but it smells of nothing. This thing seems…. unworldly, somehow. If Gozaburo kept it in a safe, it must be precious beyond belief. But even if it's worth all the diamonds in the world, it's worthless to him. He'd trade it without hesitation just to know that those two were safe.
But this being nothing more than a pipe dream, he forces his focus on the strange vial again. When did his bastard of an old man acquire his safe again? Not long after they'd taken Yugi in if memory serves. But back then, most of Gozaburo's wealth came from the weapon trade and illegal trade and transportation. End of 1739…
A sudden knock on the door makes him jump and instincts dictate his hand to return the vial to his inner pocket instantly before giving permission to enter. The door bursts open with the force of a canon that nearly makes the young baron reach for his blade. Leichter's face says it all. Something is wrong.
"My Lord, Beruga is in sight," announced the captain of the Blue-Eyes. "But you have to see this."
Without hesitation, following the push of anguish shooting up his spine, he follows Leichter out to the edge of the quarterdeck. Indeed, the Blue-Eyes is swiftly closing in on the island in sight. As predicted, Beruga is a small piece of land. Smaller than Joyelle. And evidently, the main port town is no larger than Joytown. But Seto immediately spots the trouble.
Five or six identical ships and a handful of smaller scouts —all flying the colors of the navy— are surrounding the port town. The island is too small to be hosting a navy base. So there's only one explanation for this obstruction. It's an intervention from the navy. And the only thing they could possibly be doing in this secluded area, is smoking pirates out of their hideouts.
There's no commotion so the operation must have ended a while ago. With his spyglass, the baron takes a closer look at the port. Part of the navy men in uniform are gathering up people in chains while others seem to be inspecting the berthed vessels that bore flags of black and bones.
A million questions swarm his head at once. How long have they been here? It's been four days since the attack on the Golden Whale. Logically the Millennium must have had the time to arrive. But if they've seen the navy ships… that meant they could've run off in any other direction to steer clear. If that's the case, there's no way to know where they are now. Ergo he now has his answer; God isn't done putting him through hell yet.
"What should we do, my Lord?" asks Leichter. "They're unlikely to let us dock and if they do, we'll be inspected no doubt and possibly stranded for days."
"If those fools can't recognize a real battleship when they see one, then the navy has clearly degraded. Get us on land."
"Yes, my lord," replies the captain before turning to his crew. "All hands on deck, gentlemen! We're docking!"
While the Blue-Eyes continues forward, the noise becomes distant and Seto puts away the spyglass. A surge of vertigo assaults him and his hand grips the bannister of the quarterdeck to keep him from losing balance. On goes his punishment. On goes the anguish and the nightmares. Is there no end to this sick game? There is no way to know. Fitting for a culprit to not know when his sentence will end. Like a flame slowly eating at him while he begs for death. Truly fitting.
His hand begin to sting under the gloves as the irritation rises within.
He dares not hope that among all the captured pirates he'd find them. He can't. If he hopes, there'd be no end to it. The only thing he has to believe in is that they live. No matter how long it takes or what he has to go through, his absolute priority is finding that out.
Finally, the navy ships take notice of their arrival and two scouts come to their encounter, signaling for the battleship to head in direction of the port. It takes far too long for Seto's taste to get the Blue-Eyes to the port but as it does, he eyes the various cheap and unkempt vessels around being inspected by navy men.
By the time, the Blue-Eyes is finally docked, there is no Millennium in sight still. At least not among the ones he can distinguish. He'll have to investigate more on land to—
That thought it put on immediate halt when he sees a hoard of armed navy men hurrying towards the ship. Fantastic. Another waste of time. The instant the Blue-Eyes berths and a plank links it to the firm ground, the small platoon immediately steps onto the ship. Marching in front of the organized group of men in uniform, a scrawny looking fellow with a ridiculous thin mustache —and a few more stripes on the shoulders than the others— inspects the sailors of the Blue-Eyes with judgmental glares.
"Attention, maggots!" he shouts with a booming voice. "This ship is now under jurisdiction of the Northern Caribbean Navy and its Commodore, and is now subject to inspection on suspicion of piracy! Any resistance will be dealt with accordingly. Have your captain step forward at once!"
With Leichter on his trail, Seto hurries down to the main deck, internally fuming with irritation and holding back the desire to throw his fist in the man's face. What kind of buffoon would ever think a battleship like the Blue-Eyes could be compared to the rotting pieces of wood that the filth sailed on?
"Are you in charge?" haughtily asks the Lieutenant, eying him up and down.
"Are you a complete moron?" snaps back the baron, crossing his arms on his chest. "Do I look like a sea rat to you?"
Though he is in a loose shirt drenched in sweat and without a coat, that still doesn't allow anyone to miss the pricy fabric of his attire. Or his sword. But though the Lieutenant looks him up and down again, the scrawny man snorts and stubbornly continues.
"For all I know you are usurping the identity of the true owner of this ship. All ships in the bay must be inspected and all identities must be verified. All of your men have to disembark and hand over their weapons at once. Your ship will stay anchored until the inspection is over."
"Out of the question," Seto shoots down immediately. "You're not taking apart my ship. Have you any idea who I am, you idiot?"
"Orders are orders," insists the Lieutenant —far too happy to exercise the ounce of authority his extra stripes give him.
"I don't have time for this. I myself am on a pirate hunt on orders from Admiral Pegasus himself. You'll stand down if you know what's good for you."
Having to use Pegasus's name of all things to get himself out of this situation leaves a bad taste in his mouth. Owing the nosy admiral isn't a pleasant feeling. In fact, owing anyone is a pain. Brings more trouble than needed. But the situation doesn't give him many options.
"You mean to tell me the Great Admiral of the entire Caribbean Navy sent you on a pirate hunt? Unlikely. Why would the marine make use of civilians or merchants to hunt down pirates? Canon fodder? I don't think so. Leave it to a crook to usurp the name of others. You're not fooling me. Order your men to disembark or we will use force."
The pig-headed fool raises an arm and his men get ready to brandish their riffles. Seto's teeth clench so hard they wince. Negotiating with this mule is useless unless he can prove his affiliation with Pegasus —and using force would only make things worse for him.
"Stand down, Lieutenant!"
There's a moment of confusion as all the Blue-Eyes crew registers the feminine voice. All eyes turn towards the embarking plank. In a fluid movement, the small platoon steps out of the way to let a thin figure in a long uniform coat through. All eyes widen as a woman steps onto the main deck and makes her way to Seto and the Lieutenant. Under her tricorn, her long flowing hair held in a tight ponytail is being toyed with by the wind. This mass of nearly white blond mane and those piercing blue eyes are far from unknown to the young baron.
"Commodore," exclaims the suddenly very submissive lieutenant, saluting her. "There's no need to bother yourself, my Lady. Everything is under control. We were just about to search the ship."
She barely spares a glance at him and instead, keeps staring straight at Seto's face. It's been at least five years since they've seen each other but her eyes haven't changed one bit. As always, they seem to be piercing right through him and peering into his very soul. Which he finds both extremely irritating and admirable. For all her gentle demeanor and sweet tone, Kisara Pegasus is one dangerous woman.
"You should use that head of yours a little more often, Steps," she tells the lieutenant without looking at him still . "There'd be no point for a pirate ship to dock here after seeing us from afar."
"But my Lady—"
"It's Commodore to you, Steps," she corrects instantly. "And the last thing we'd want is to upset an ally of the navy." She finally looks at him, her eyes still gentle but her tone firm and reproachful. "You'd do well to remember this face and this ship, Lieutenant. This is Baron Seto Kaiba."
At her words, the blood drains from the little man's face to which Seto almost laughs. Or he would've if the situation wasn't so urgent. Instead, he keeps his eyes on Kisara. Her smile fades almost immediately as if she sensed his agitation. Accordingly, she turns to her Lieutenant completely this time.
"This ship and its crew are exempted from inspection. You're needed elsewhere, Lieutenant. There's still much to do. Get to it now. And pass the word on."
"Yes, Commodore!" Steps salutes again before mumbling a half-hearted apology to Seto and ordering his men off the Blue-Eyes.
Both of them wait for the pompous Lieutenant to be back on land and far enough before turning back to each other. She's smiling again.
"I must say, you are the last person I expect to meet out here. But it is good to see you, Seto. Or should I call you Baron now?"
"I see you managed to convince Pegasus to let you in charge."
"Don't speak as if my uncle handed me my position on a silver platter," she retorts, crossing her arms on her chest. "All he did was convince the academy to take me on. Unlike some people, I still need to prove myself daily to maintain my authority."
"Please," he snorts back. "Had you not been your uncle's niece, there's no chance in the world you'd have made it where you are."
"You're as pleasant as I remember." A half smile creeps up her cheek. "But I suppose you're right about that."
Not changed one bit, indeed. Kisara was never one to pick a fight or let anyone pick one with her. It made her a fine mediator. In fact, he hasn't met anyone more fitting for negotiations than this woman. Other than himself, of course.
"On a more serious note," she says, turning to Leichter as well this time. "I'll ask you to remain on your ship as not to disturb our operation. If you need supplies or anything else, we'll provide it to you."
"Are you in charge of this raid?" asks the baron.
"I am." Her eyes narrow on him again. "It seems strange to find an escort battleship on its own and in the middle of nowhere like this. I can't help but wonder. What are you really doing here?"
"You wouldn't happened to have received an urgent message from Kingtown in the last few days?"
"We've been stationed here for the last eight days," she replies, her eyebrows progressively coming closer together. "This raid was our priority. We've been planning it for five mon—"
He leaves her no time to finish. "Among all the rogue ships you rounded up here, is there one named the Millennium?"
"No."
His insides twist like a noose and an invisible hand grips his throat when he hears her irrevocable answer. They're not here. In that case, they could be headed anywhere by now.
"If you ask me that's quite the complex name for a rogue ship," continues Kisara. "One would have to be fairly literate to come up with that."
"Are you absolutely sure?" he says taking the last step that separates them. "What about the name Sennen?"
"We've apprehended five captains, all well-known by the navy. I've never heard that name before." Her eyes narrow again and he can see his own anguish reflecting in those sky-colored irises. "I thought I heard you tell Steps you were on a hunt for my uncle. What is the meaning of this?"
Her questions are prying, just like Pegasus's. Her eyes demand answers but her tone is gentle. He can hear the worry and the openness in her pitch, also devoid of any naivety or basic curiosity. Her honesty shines through as much as her uncle's slyness. That's exactly why she's dangerous. Why he's even more reluctant to relinquish information to her than to the nosy admiral. Because he can't see her endgame. He can't feel any potential ill intent from her… but that doesn't mean there isn't any. That makes her doubly suspicious in his book. Those who seem trustworthy are those that stir up more mistrust than anyone else in him. And yet, she's his only ally at the moment.
"One of my cargo ships was attacked five days ago," he begins, forcing out the words like he's done with Pegasus. "By three rogue ships."
He tells her everything. About the unorthodox joint attack. About the theft of the Golden Whale. About the fourth ship and Arcana. As the story goes on, Kisara's eyes progressively widen but she doesn't interrupt once, instead taking in all the information he begrudgingly surrenders over to her.
"That's unusual indeed," she says, bringing a finger to her lips. "That still doesn't explain why you're going after them yourself. Haven't you just told me that you found your cargo in Liverand?"
"Mokuba was on the ship along with my ward."
"Dear Lord…"
This time, shock takes over the commodore's face so much that her clear skin nearly turns the color of her hair and her eyes widen. She then looks down, seemingly looking at something that isn't there. Her eyes move quickly from side to side, as if reading a book only visible to herself.
"Five days ago, from the south…" She mutters to herself for a while, her eyes still reading her invisible book. Then her head shoots up. "Come with me."
She whips around and quickly makes her way on land. The baron's desperate state doesn't allow him to hesitate. He follows after her —throwing a 'you manage things here' to Leichter before leaving the ship. Walking on land again nearly makes him lose balance, accentuating the lightheadedness still present in his skull and the vertigo just waiting to assault him again. But the simple focus on the commodore lets him shun it all. There's one more thing he remembers about Kisara : she's clever. As smart as Pegasus as a matter of fact with the distinct advantage of not having her cunningness out in the open.
"Where are you taking me?"
She doesn't answer and instead comes to a halt near a group of chained up pirates sitting on the ground and guarded by some soldiers. The idiot from before is there, checking some files on a wooden chart.
"Steps," she called out making him whip around.
"My Lad— I mean, Commodore!" he replies, hastily saluting before fearfully glancing at Seto. "I something the matter?"
"At ease, Lieutenant," she reassures. "Where is the Tzigane?"
Annoyance suddenly takes over Steps's expression before he points at a tavern named the Red Rackham. "The slacker's gone off in search of a drink and a nap. He's been in there for nearly three hours."
"He did his job, Steps. Now you do yours."
"Yes, my Lady!"
With a sigh and an eye-roll, she walks past him and Seto follows again, while the rising irritation begins to burn the pit of his stomach. Being led around like a clueless mule without any explanation isn't a position he enjoys.
"I reiterate—" he begins slwoly.
"Right now what we need is to try to find this Millennium ship, is it not? I'm taking you to your best chance to do that."
Her words trigger a painful throb in his chest and electric current throughout his entire body. Maybe God hasn't forsaken him yet. Quickly his rationality catches up. Maybe their Father in heaven is only giving him false hope to prolong his agony. But he has no choice so he follows as she makes a bee line to the tavern.
The Red Rackham is practically empty. Unsurprising seeing how most of its clients are probably in chains outside. Many tables were filled with half-empty plates and beer mugs. Aside from the scowling bar tender cleaning his counter and a few clients glancing mistrustfully at them, the place is a ghost town.
"I see you're popular in the area," he lets out raising an eyebrow at a man spitting on the floor.
"We just arrested most of their source of income," she replies, not paying them any mind as she looks around the room. "Without the gentlemen of fortune spending their goods here, they'll have a hard time keeping their businesses running."
He bites his lower lip at her words while the rest of him stiffens at the familiarity of the situation. Perhaps she's a witch of some sort who can really read his mind. It's absurd but whenever she says this sort of thing, he can't help but think she knows everything. Her insight is frightening.
"They'll probably have to move to bigger islands to find work," she goes on. "That or join the fishing trade. No one likes to be forced out of their homes."
There she goes again with the overly compassionate tone in her voice. Despite that her eyes remain focused and keep searching the room. That is until the sound of a chair screeching against the floor makes the both of them look to the side. A man about Seto's age with disheveled but seemingly nice clothes stands from his table and is facing them with a death glare in his eyes.
"Would ye look at that?" he spits at Kisara's address. "Looks like the navy's made o' nothin' but women and sissies. No wonder they can't do nothin' right!"
"Tom!" shouts the bartender glancing at them with an air of worry. "That's enough out o' ye. Be quiet."
"Really pa? Ye're gonna let 'em get away scot free after killin' our business like this?"
The bartender's son strides up to them quickly. Though Seto reaches for his blade, the commodore doesn't move and lets the fuming man approach until there's no more than a step between them. He's half a head taller than her but her calm demeanor more than makes up for that gap.
"Ye happy with yerself, blasted blue-coats? Huh?! Takin' our taxes ain't enough for ye? Ye have to take our work too?" he yells before spitting at her feet.
"You have my sincerest apologies. But not letting those kind of people run around is our duty. Protecting you and every one else in the Caribbean from them is our priority."
"Ye know how many sibling I got?" he scoffs at her. "Eight. five of 'em, lassies! How're we gonna feed em huh? Got a solution for that, ye navy bitch?"
Every word that comes out of his filthy mouth makes the burn in Seto's stomach spread to the rest of him like wildfire. Who in their right mind would defend the murderous scum? But Kisara says nothing. Only stares at the young man with the same soft look in eyes.
"I'm sorry, good sir. But I have a job to do. Kindly step aside please or I will make you."
"Stop mockin' me!"
A fist is raised, heading straight for her face but she evades it with a step to the side. It's abundantly clear to Seto that she has no plan on hitting back. He doesn't have time for that. Not a second to spare to futile conflict. But the wild fire takes over completely and as Tom raises his fist again, his collides with with the bartender's son stomach—getting an ugly grunt out of him. Then, without truly willing it, his hand wraps around the scum's throat and pushes him against a wooden post supporting the ceiling.
"Don't hurt him!" exclaims Kisara but her voice is miles away.
Instead, he squeezes Tom's throat while the latter desperately tries to get free. Again following the will of a stronger force within, the words pour out of the baron's mouth— fueled by rage and exhaustion.
"So you enjoy your blood money, bastard? How do you like happily spending coin stolen from violated women's purses and children's corpses on booze and whores? Do you sleep at night, scum? Do you?!"
He can barely recognize his own voice. He's not even sure what he's looking at. All he feels is his hand slowly choking the life out of his victim. So that's it? That's what it's like to lose control. To be blinded by emotion. It's not like him.
"Seto! Enough!" Orders Kisara, one hand on his wrist and the other on his shoulder. "If you hurt him, I'll have to arrest you. Don't forget why you're here."
Right. He remembers. Moki. Yugi. He can see again and his eyes find Kisara's, reproachfully staring at him. This time, she seems ready to take out her blade. What is he doing? Vertigo assaults him again and he releases Tom who crumbles to the ground to catch his breath while his father runs to his side.
What the hell am I doing?
"Oi, oi, what's this ruckus?" says a yawning voice coming from above them. "Can't a man catch a moment of peace after working so hard?"
Sitting on one of the wooden beams forming the roof frame, is the silhouette of a man who's bright eyes seem strangely visible despite the shadows hiding him.
"Don't pretend you weren't watching the whole time," replies the commodore, crossing her hands on her chest. "You're not fooling me, Devlin."
A joyful laughter answers her. "Guilty as charged. I'm still quite hopeful to see you use that sword one day, my lady."
"The true question is will you be around long enough to see it, Tzigane," she retorts, emphasizing on the last word.
"Touché."
With that, the shadow jumps down from the beam, landing with the agility and quietness of a cat. Straightening up, he dusts off his sleeves. He's a bit older then them. Early thirties, a bit younger perhaps. Seto can't help but frown upon seeing his appearance. The newcomer is dressed as if he's only just robbed a merchant ship himself. Aside from worn out brown boots, his black pants, white shirt, red waistcoat with golden stitching and the silk scarf of the same color around his head all look brand new and expensive. Factoring in the sun-shaped earring dangling from his ear and the tattoo of a black cat holding a compass in its mouth on the inside of his wrist, he looks like he belongs on a rogue ship with the rest of the scum. The most disturbing thing about him though are his unusually big green eyes accentuated by his messy long pitch black hair. They remind Seto of a snake.
After landing, the so-called Tzigane brings two fingers to his mouth and whistles. A squawk answers him before a large bright green and yellow parrot comes down to perch itself on his shoulder. If that doesn't complete the look, what does?
"Well then," begins the newcomer, smiling at Kisara and royally ignoring anyone else's presence. "Have you finally decided to accept my offer to dinner? Bit early in the day but we can call it lunch."
Seto felt the blood pump a little stronger in the veins of his forehead. Three sentences out of this man and he already knew he didn't care for him one bit. Air filled his chest as he prepared to spit back his retort but the commodore beat him to it.
"I have another job for you," she says, ignoring his attempt at courting. "You'll be well compensated, I promise."
"How cruel of you to brush off a man's sincere affection like this," he says shrugging. "The heart of a woman who knows her beauty can be so fickle."
"You and I must not have the same definition of sincere affection, Tzigane."
"Are you two quite done with the idle chatter or would you like me to leave?" finally snaps Seto.
Kisara immediately turns her attention back to him. "This man here is Devlin or the Tzigane as most people know him. Navigator and self-proclaimed wind master. He's a pain in the neck and he will pick your pockets if you're not careful. But if anyone can pinpoint your rogue ship, it's him. Devlin, this is—"
"Baron Seto Kaiba, heir of Gozaburo Kaiba, owner of the Kaiba Company that handles all of the trading business in the Caribbean and a good portion of the worldwide trade. I know who you are. I recognized the battleship. Saw you in Domino a while ago." There it is, the eying from head to toe. "Though it's quite a surprise to see someone of your status in the middle of nowhere."
The tone in his voice and the look on his face say otherwise. Unlike Kisara, everything about this guy screams mistrust and cunningness. Seto can almost smell it. He's met enough of his kind to know. Gozaburo was like this as well.
"Let's talk outside," says the commodore, breaking the stare-off. "I think we've outstayed our welcome."
Unsurprisingly, with the display from earlier, the entirety of the people in the tavern stare at them with either wariness or anger. Too much hostile attention to conduct any sort of business.
"Very well then," exclaims the Tzigane brushing past Seto to head out and putting a hand on his shoulder on the way. "Let's talk."
The brief contact accentuates the annoyance and impatience within but Seto says nothing and follows the navigator. Once out, they walk until they reach the docks, putting distance between them and the activity of the navy men around.
"So milady, what is it this humble navigator can do for you?" asks Devlin, staring at the horizon.
"I need you to pinpoint the location of another rogue ship. An unusual one. Both captain and ship appear to be new in our waters."
The wind blows playing with their hair and a sudden impression of being alone in the world with those two comes over the baron. Or perhaps it's another effect of the vertigo. Yes that must be it. He mentally shuns it away once more.
"Where was it last seen and when?"
"Five days ago in waters near Kingtown," Seto recounts. "We know it stopped near Liverand that same day."
"Was their cargo fresh?"
"They pillaged my biggest cargo ship, what do you think? Is there a point to those cryptic questions, Navigator?"
Devlin doesn't answer and instead proceeds to take a deep breath before speaking again. Though it's out loud, he doesn't seem to be addressing anyone but himself.
"The currents have been calm but it'd have taken them at least four days to get here. Meaning they'd be here if there wasn't some form of deviation on their part."
"Allow me to present my gratitude for this absolute waste of my time," snaps Seto as his head spins again. "Your parrot could've told me as much."
A soft and irritating laughter escapes the navigator who turns around to face them, seemingly not the slightest bit offended as if this sort of treatment is nothing new to him.
"I promise you young lord, Becca can tell us much more. No creature in this world can read the wind like a bird. They feel everything. The change in weather, the direction and strength of the currents and even storms before they happen. She's the one who taught me to read the wind. A true teacher."
Ordinarily, this would've been nonsense to him. But the navy has obviously used him for this operation and others before. Kisara is convinced by the shady man's odd gifts. And the situation is anything but ordinary.
"From what you told me, I can already tell you the chances are very high that they are still heading here. No matter how clever they are, Beruga and the other islands here are the closest place to spend or hide their booty. Staying in open waters is foolish. Doubling back bears too great of a risk to get caught. Their best bet is still around this area. Anywhere else would take them too long to arrive."
And from what Seto saw, Sennen is anything but foolish. Manipulating three rogue ships and their crews takes brains and careful planing. Not to mention the spying done pre-departure to know that the Golden Whale would be the chosen ship and infiltrate it. Perhaps Devlin isn't a complete fraud after all. Thought talking to birds doesn't make him completely sane either.
The bird man goes on. "Had they arrived a day or so ago, I doubt they'd have escaped the scouts. The only answer is that they deviated for some reason."
Hope makes Seto's heart throb again when he hears the words of the navigator. But the jolt is quickly followed by a swarm of anguish squeezing his insides. He find himself begging God for mercy. Simply to be spared of hope and in return, have those two returned safe and sound. What a paradox of a prayer.
"I won't hide that this remains a gamble of a guess," warns Devlin, petting the bird on his shoulder —the cheeky smile doesn't leave his face though. "But the chances are much higher with my calculations than anyone else's. And forgive me for assuming but you don't seem to have any other options besides me."
Keeping the words 'cocky bastard' from slipping out demanded more control that usual from the exhausted baron.
"How long before you can give me a full report?" he asks instead.
"A couple of hours at the very least. The time it takes for us to read the wind, the current and compare them to those of the past few days. At worst, this evening. But first, let us discuss payment."
"Name your price," he replied without hesitation.
"You'll find I'm quite cheap, money wise," chuckles the parrot man, closing the distance between them. "But I am expensive in information. Knowing things about my clients sometime comes in far more handy that a few extra coins. Especially people of influence such as you, baron. People full of secrets who make the rules and make sure to be the only one who can break them."
This speech is nothing Seto isn't used to but being once again probed for information is beginning to touch his last nerve. Again Devlin comes closer —leaving a mere two steps between them— then leans forward, planting his snake eyes into Seto's.
"What was stolen from you that you yourself would go after those who wronged you?" he asks. "What is on that rogue ship?"
Is this part of the punishment? To reveal the secret he's protected for over twelve years to everyone in his path? So that the entire bloody Caribbean can learn it and turn their eyes to the last survivor of the Shayee? First Pegasus. Then Kisara. And now this scoundrel. And Seto can tell : those unblinking snake eyes won't be fooled so easily. He wants nothing more than throw his fist into that prying face. But he knows there's no other way. If he lies, those eyes will know. Liars know liars. So he gives what he can; a partial truth.
"My brother was taken hostage by the scum. I need to find him."
For the first time since meeting him, Devlin's smile fades and his eyes widen in surprise. As if this truth is the last thing he expected coming from the baron. After a few long moments, he straightens up but his smile doesn't return. Instead his surprised look turns into a very pronounced scowl that progressively darkens his face.
"I'll admit, I didn't expect this answer. Or the truth, mind you. Still I wonder…"
His hand slips into the pocket of his waste coat. He pulls out a familiar braided thread with beads of tainted-silver with a green sheen. Yugi's bracelet. Seto's hand immediately reaches for his own chest pocket only to find it empty. Just when did he…
"Ironically, people often keep what's precious to them close to their heart," preaches the thief dangling the bracelet at the tip of his fingers. "I happen to know what this particular metal is. How in the world does one such as you finds himself with orichalcum in his pocket?"
Yugi's POV
My right arm hurts from the aching wound while the muscles in my left arm burn from overuse. Sweat drops drip down my face as the sun burns the skin of my back, cooking me up in my own clothes. Those of us who are not sail-men or help move the ship are cleaning the deck of the food stains and vomit from the funeral feast, and from the blood stains we've somehow all managed to forget about.
Despite out eery tasks, there's casual chatter and still the crew shares stories of their fallen friends between them. Their collective resilience amazes me once more.
Now, while most are pushing mops and scrubbing the upper decks, I've been tasked with cleaning the blood stained clothes from the crew with the help of a couple more sailors and Mokuba. All work in the shade, protecting their skin. Not me. I've retreated to the quarterdeck for privacy. And being here —on my knees in front of a bucket filled with hot salt water, scrubbing with all my strength my thirty sixth shirt of the morning, with a pile of bloody clothes constantly reminding me of yesterday's atrocities— all I can think about is the burn on my lips.
Why did he do it?
"Here Yug!"
I nearly jump out of my skin and whip around when I hear the voice of the first mate. Joey of course takes notice. He crouches down by my side, putting down a basket filled to the bring with green round fruits.
"I got what ya asked for. Hey, ya should go in the shade. You're completely red."
"I'm fine here," I say, pushing the shirt harder against the wooden paddle and feeling myself getting hotter somehow.
Truth be told, I'd rather the sun burn me down to a crisp than let anyone know what's haunting my thoughts.
What is his end game? Why humiliate me like this?
"Why d'ya need lemons for anyway?" Asks the first made.
"Oh right!" Come now, Yugi. Focus! "Lemon's good to wash off bloodstains. Do you have a knife for me?"
Without any restraints, he hands me his blade. I quickly dry my hands on my dress before grabbing it along with a lemon. I should focus on that. Yes. Seto would slaughter me if he saw me lose focus while handling knives. I cut the fruit in two and and squeeze it over the hot water, putting enough pressure that my wounds ache at the strain.
"We're d'ya learn that?" continues the curious wolf-man. "I thought ya were raised fancy. Didn't imagine ya doin' laundry."
I have enough sense left not to engage in a conversation about monthly bleedings and stained sheets with him. So instead, I make up a story about cutting myself during training and having to wash my own fencing clothes. Which is not so far off the truth.
"I see. Guess yar guardian ain't as pamperin' as I thought."
"He's really not," I say cracking a half smile and grabbing another lemon.
Seto is strict, but he's never hurt or humiliated me. Not like him.
I slice the second fruit, leaving a clear dent in the quarterdeck this time and again, squeeze both halves firmly until my wounds ache again. It hurts but its better than feeling like my own body trying to smother me. I wipe the sweat off my face before realizing Joey hasn't moved from his spot.
"Ya've been at it for over two hours Yug. Take a break in the shade."
"I can't," I decline. "Mokuba said everything has to be cleaned today to prevent disease from spreading."
"Which ain't gonna happen if ya pass out. I can tell something's eatin' at ya. I know ya didn't sleep a wink either."
Yes but not because of what you think. My lips were burning.
"I-I'm sure I don't know what you mean," I mutter cursing my voice for shaking and grabbing a third lemon.
"Yesterday was a bloody mess but for ya, it was a first. Ya don't have to pretend ya 're alright."
"No, its not that," I snap, pressing on the knife again only to feel the blade slice through the top of my index finger. "AH!"
My scream of pain is quickly followed by words that should never be spoken by a lady —or anyone really—when the sting of the lemon juice attacks the cut. Red leaks out, staining the already tainted floor. I'm about to bring it to my mouth before I can, the first mate grabs my hand and brings to his mouth… giving it a quick lick of the tongue. Shivers of discomfort and shock shoot through me before I remember Atem's words.
"Don't panic. Wolf-man drool's good to stop wounds from bleedin'. There, it stopped."
Indeed, the blood isn't leaking anymore as if the cut is already healing. I can't even feel the sting of the lemon juice anymore. Incredible. Before I can thank him, Joey grabs my bucket and straightens up.
"Hey! What are you—"
"I won't force ya to take a break," he cuts off. "But ya're gettin' out of the sun before ya end up like a dried fish. And no, ya ain't got a choice."
With that, he heads for the stairs going down to the quarterdeck where Mokuba and the others are washing their share of bloody clothes. I sigh before grabbing the basket and the pile of clothes I'd taken to get some privacy with my overheating head. What was I thinking? My skin's already red. I stand and follow Joey down the main deck, protected by the shadows casted by the masts and sails. Joey places my bucket near Mokuba's . I will admit, the freshness of the shadows feel nice.
"Got anythin' to report, short stack?" asks Joey to the youngest Kaiba as I resume my task.
"If we can't wash off the blood completely, we'll have to burn them," says Mokuba. "Hopefully the lemon and salt will do the trick."
"Pretty clever of ya to use salt water. Sure is handy to have a brainy type onboard. Well, I'll leave ya to it. Oh, and ya make sure yar sis stays out o' the sun, short stack."
"My name's Mokuba! Stop calling me short-stack!" protests the youngest brother.
Joey walks away, gesturing a salute without turning back. This is the first time anyone's referred me as Mokuba's sister. The first mate has always been the kindest towards us here. Still his acknowledgment of our bond warms my heart a bit.
Atem never will.
Once again, my head's flooded with memories and feelings from yesterday evening. It seems my own mind won't grant me a moment of peace. Biting my lips to clear my head once more and focus on the task at hand, pressing the soaked shirt firmly into the wooden paddle as most of the stains come off. I send some internal gratitude to Maria for teaching me this trick.
Still I scrub and scrub and scrub until my hands and arms are exhausted and aching. Yet still I can't chase those images from my mind. Why did he do this? Only to settle a silly bet? I can't believe it. First he wants me to sail the seven seas with him and then… Why get so close after so clearly pushing me away?
Why can't I understand you?
"Joey's right, Yugi," says Mokuba bringing me out of my thoughts. "You look awful."
"You don't look much better," I almost snap but instantly regret it. "I'm sorry. I'm… exhausted."
He looks at me with helpless and baggy eyes. Guilt grips my insides. Here I am pondering the silly demeanor of our captor while his head is probably filled with vivid images of bloody corpses and dying people. I set the —nearly— cleaned shirt aside and quickly wipe my hands on my dress before putting a hand on his cheek.
"Are you alright?" I ask.
He looks down, leaning his cheek a little deeper into my hand. For a moment, I swear his eyes are watering. But no. The only thing in his brown irises is melancholy.
"No," he replies. "I wish my brother was here."
Bitterness squeezes my heart and the grip on my gut tightens. I imagine Seto finding us and returning Moki to him like this. Scarred and frightened. I'm not at fault but it sure feels like I am. Set himself must be out of his mind searching for us. What must I do to reunite them without a adding more pain to either of them?
"I do as well," I reply, rubbing my thumb on his cheek.
"Well aren't you two chatty?"
I take my hand back and my heart nearly explodes in my chest at the sound of the familiar gruff voice. Bakura is standing before us, holding a pile of more stained clothes which he drops adds to our own on the floor.
"Wha— More?" exclaims Mokuba.
"From last night. No blood this time. Just puke and food stains. We're not even halfway through cleaning this whole turner and it's almost noon. Get those hands moving, half-pints."
I'm still not used to having him be—somewhat— civil with us. And not trying to skewer us while no one is looking. But his presence only serves to stir up more agitation in me.
"Alright, fine!" I say, nervousness getting the better of me. "How about actually leaving us to it?"
Again, regret hits me instantly but too late. What is wrong with me? Do I have a death wish? I dare look up to meet eyes with a dumbfounded quartermaster. I hold my breath while his eyebrows come closer together in a terrifyingly familiar fashion. I'm prepared to run but all he does is cross his arms on his chest.
"Look who found her tongue."
"Y-You're the one who said there's a lot of work to be done," I say desperately trying to fix my unintentional provocation. "Shouldn't you be doing your share?"
There's no more intention behind it but by all that is sacred why did I have to formulate it like this. I lower my eyes and plunge a new piece of clothes into my bucket. Again his reaction is not the one I expected.
"Are you pissy because you've got to dirty your pretty little hands to do laundry or because the captain got handsy with you last night?"
Every part of me stops moving at his words and an instant numbness comes over me. Then multiple swarms of feelings assault me one by one. The first is embarrassment, sending prickly tingling through me. Then frustration, making the blood rushing through me boil. So someone did see. And of all people it had to be him. The third, is anger. It contracts all of my muscles at once, threatening to reopen my wounds.
A mocking snort escapes Bakura. "I thought he had a reason to keep you around. Didn't think it'd be that basic. Never took him for the fetishist type. Then again who knows what goes on inside his big— oi!"
Never in my life had I been pushed so quickly to my limit. I never thought anger and embarrassment could be so disastrous when felt at once. Letting the liquid rage in my veins guide me, I grabbed my recently washed shirt and tossed it at the quartermaster. Unfortunately, he evades it just in time and the ball of wet fabric continues on its path until it lands in the face of a familiar short figure walking around shirtless. Atem removes it from his face, revealing an incredulous and somewhat annoyed look.
I must be cursed. There can't be any other explanation for today.
"What are you all playing at?"
For a moment of pure horror, I expect for Bakura to use this opportunity to humiliate me even further and await his cruel smirk. But it never comes. Instead the quartermaster responds with his usual level of insolence.
"Couldn't say. Why are you walking around shirtless?"
"I came for a trade."
With that, Atem tosses a dry but seemingly dirty shirt onto the pile before inspecting the one he's just received in the face which he then slips on. He then walks right towards us and my insides compress together in ill anticipation. But the captain's focus is on Mokuba.
"How are things going on your end, lad?"
Mokuba looks back and forth between me and him before answering. "Thanks to the lime, we'll be able to clean most of them. But at least a fourth of them are unsalvageable. We'll have to burn them as soon as possible."
"Good work, Mokuba. Keep at it."
Please just walk away. Don't look at me.
I pray while focusing all of my attention on the breeches in my bucket while I remember the smells of dried fruit and sea salt intertwining too well. My plea remains unanswered as I here the sound of turning footsteps.
"Had a rough night, love? Any change of heart?"
I scrub harder, not wanting to look up. "Don't you have things to do, Captain?"
A few seconds of silence pass with nothing but the sound of my scrubbing filling it before Atem finally answers.
"Right you are. Bakura, you're coming with me."
The two men walk away to the foremast where Reed is waiting for them, holding a map. They begin talking and I thank God for this short conversation. I resume my scrubbing, trying to chase away the memory of that intoxicating fragrance.
"What was that all about?" asks Mokuba.
I know he won't let me off the hook without an answer. If I don't give him one, he might imagine the worst.
"Atem made me an offer yesterday." This half-truth will have to do. "He wants me to stay with him on the sea."
In an instant, the youngest Kaiba's eyes become wider than the ocean. "You can't! You can't stay here. I know how much you love the sea but it's near Domino too! You can't just live with pirates. What would Set—"
I put both my hands over his mouth and look around to make sure no one's heard. Luckily the other groups on laundry duty seem to engrossed in their conversations.
"Moki! Watch your mouth." I say removing my hands. "And of course I don't plan on staying. What in the world made you think that? You and your brother are my family."
I can't see relief in his eyes but he takes deep breaths as if to convince himself of my words. "O-Of course. Sorry, I shouldn't have gotten worked up. We should get back to work before Bakura sees us."
As if on cue, Carrot comes up from the lower decks bringing us more bath-hot salt water to refill our buckets. A few sliced lemons later, we're back to scrubbing. I fail at keeping at bay my thoughts though. I dare glance at the captain from afar. I thought for sure he'd have teased me mercilessly. The more I stare the thicker the mystery.
Who are you?
Why do I waste time asking myself questions that will never be answered? I grab another shirt from the pile and find not that much blood but huge black stains on it.
"Someone is messy," I say examining the strange stains. "Is that ink? No. It's too thick…"
"It's probably coragro," replies Mokuba.
"You think? I thought coragro stains smelled awful from a mile away."
"Only when it's liquid and rotting. That's why it can't be used as ink. The smell's unbearable. But don't worry, it washes off quite well with enough hot salt water and lime."
How strange. So it becomes much less potent when it dries? Curious —and frankly searching for anyway possible to distract myself— I bring the cloth to my nose and breathe in. My jaw drops instantly. What I inhale is a familiar dusty scent of dried fruit. All it's missing is the salty smell of the sea to create that fragrance.
My head suddenly empties of thought. As if they've all retreated somewhere out of my reach, and become a the puppeteer to my body. I stand and slowly, being to make my way to the foremast. I don't know why. Or I'm not sure. All I know is I'm walking towards him, incapable of thinking clearly. His back is turned to me. He can't see me.
This is the only chance.
I find myself picking up the pace about halfway there. I feel eyes on me but can't spare them a thought. Then, just when I reach them, I realize I've had my bucket in my hands all along.
My hands clutch.
My arms swing
The water hits the back of his head like a slap, drenching him from head to toe.
And I wake up.
A heavy silence falls upon the upper decks. I feel all eyes in our direction Bakura and Reed stare at me as if I've turned into a fish.
"Sink me to Davy Jone's bloody locker," lets out the quartermaster, breaking the silence. "You really pissed her off."
"Captain, what d'ye do to deserve that kind o' retribution?" says Reed, holding back a laugh.
They are so far away. I'm only focused on Atem who still hasn't reacted. My heart pounds in my chest like a thousand canons firing ceaselessly. I still can't think clearly, only watch.
Finally, the captain straightens up and slowly turns around to face me, an unreadable look on his face. I sense no threat. I sense no anger. But a deep and immense sadness takes place in his ruby irises. I'd only caught glances before. Now I can see it clear as day.
A smile stretches out across this sad, sad face.
"Seems you've found me, love."
As the words leave his mouth, I see them. The drops of water dripping down his face and onto the ground…
They stain his skin and his clothes, stripping darkness from his wild mane.
Told ya there'd be surprised ;)
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