ASCLEPIAS


2022; panravenc.


CHAPTER III

Breathless


The sea is calm, and Yuki doesn't trust it. The wind is far too benign, on this morning of May, and she dreads the storm the seagulls are the warning of. Not because of her―she's Captain Tsukumo, and very few things scare her―but because of her ill crewmates.

If it was up to her, they would turn back and try to reach Scarlet Island from another angle, or maybe wait a couple of days before trying again.

However, it is not up to her. She knows perfectly well there is no other route towards Scarlet Island, and they're on a time limit. She can't afford two more days.

Scarlet Island gets its name from the coral reef that surrounds it and from the rumours of monsters painting its coast red with the blood of those who dare enter its waters; and is, unfortunately in this case, the only island where the bloodflower grows―the extract of which is the only cure for the illness that's invaded her crew.

It's also one of the most dangerous islands known to man. Its poisonous flora, its treacherous weather, the predators lurking around―nothing in Scarlet Island is safe for humans.

But it doesn't scare her. It never has: not the first time she dared to step on its soil, not the second, not the third. If she's feeling dread, it's because it's not her she's worried about.

Will their bodies, weakened by disease, be able to endure the storm? Will they last until I have the bloodflower in my hands?

The journey will be tough, on both her ship and her crew. It will be dangerous, both sailing through the Scarlet Route―as it's commonly called by―and getting enough bloodflower extract to cure the twelve ill crewmates.

Inevitably, excitement flows through her veins. Yuki is a pirate, after all, and she lives for the sea, for its anger and its peace. She lives for the thrill of adventure and for the vicious way her life could end at any given moment. Because she is Captain Tsukumo, and the sea is her reign: the waves her companions and the storms her challengers.

(Her heart speeds up, too, for an entirely different reason, at the thought of Scarlet Island.)

(But she can't acknowledge it, not just yet.)

The next hours pass by in a blink of an eye.

"Captain," her best navigator calls, a worried tone in her voice. "Captain, we might not make it―"

But Yuki cuts her off. "I know." She turns to the horizon, black clouds obscuring the afternoon sun. "But we can do it. Can't we?"

And, faced with her captain's confidence in her crew's abilities, how could she ever say no? "We can," she affirms.

With a nod, Yuki takes a glance towards the deck. "The storm will hit in the next forty minutes," she announces. "Maria! Reinforce the infirmary, and get Fran to take the canyons out. There will be killer whales ready to strike."

Her crewmate salutes her. "Yes, sir!"

Now all we need is to get through it.

Her ship has endured worse. Her crew has endured worse. She has endured worse. The Dead Sea, the Angel Archipelago, the Naval's Routes: they all have been through worse. But not with a third of their crew ill, bedridden with a disease the fault of a witch, a curse more than anything, really: one that can spread, one that provokes high fevers and haemorrhages, one they could die from.

For all that part of her craves the rush of the Scarlet Route, Yuki can't help the fear settling in her stomach. We have to be on time, she tries to reassure herself. We have to.

It's rough. The storm hits and it hits hard, giant waves obstructing the path, whales attempting to wreck the ship's hull. A couple of her men almost fall overboard, the wind currents do not agree with their passage, and a whirlpool nearly succeeds in drowning them.

Truly, no one in their sane mind would want to sail these waters.

Still, they do. The storm calms, hours later. There are more difficulties afterwards, like the ever-changing currents and the killer whales trying to rob arms whenever they can, but they do it.

Come sunrise, Scarlet Island is on the horizon. Come morning hour, Yuki can feel her shoulders relax with relief.

The reef stops the ship before it can get closer to the island, of course, but―

The logical thing would be to grab the auxiliary ship and row, no matter how slower than swimming it would be, since the coral reef of Scarlet Island is full of carnivores desiring human flesh―or any flesh, really―but Yuki has another option, a more favourable one.

She takes a deep breath, and on top of the figurehead, cuts open her palm and lets the blood fall towards the water, drop by drop. It's the method she's been using for some time, and she knows it's as safe as it can be.

She spies a black silhouette in the distance, and, really, her smile is involuntary.

She can't help it. Has never been able to, in truth, not since the first time she saw him.

Chōsō, her heart sings. Chōsō, Chōsō, Chōsō.

His tail swings strongly, effortlessly pulling him towards her. Once he's near enough, her impulses get the best of her, and she finds herself jumping, diving just to get closer, to meet him just a bit sooner. He's as beautiful as when they first met: with loose black hair, dark purple scales covering part of his upper body, silver and red adorning them, with rows of teeth in his smile, a black line horizontally covering his features and claws in his gilled hands.

As always, he takes her breath away.

"Yuki," he speaks, voice rough due to months of inactivity, thumbs caressing her cheeks as if to make sure of her presence. "You're here."

She remembers the first time she heard it: drowning, bleeding, accepting of her imminent death, and how glad she'd been for him to be the last thing she'd ever see.

She remembers the first time she explored Scarlet Island, attracted by its mysteries and its legends, seeing him injured by the coast, the scientific urge to study what was an honest to god merman. The rehabilitation days, the hunts for food, the hunger for learning about him as much as she could. The feelings she started to have, for the merman who couldn't speak in human tongue, whose noises resembled those of dolphins, in a way, but had the most harmonious tone under it.

She remembers the kiss she'd planted on him three months later, when it came clear she had to go back to her crew, lest they worry and try to venture the Scarlet Route alone like she had done. The promise to come back, to meet again someday. The battle that took place afterwards, a pirate crew that thought they could take Captain Tsukumo alone.

The fact that they almost did, hadn't it been for him.

Chōsō, she thinks, her expression welcoming and relieved. You're here.

He kisses her, unexpectedly, passing oxygen she'd been losing, arms wrapping around her waist, his scales rattling against her clothes. She returns the kiss, returns the hug, caresses his dorsal fin. By the sea, I have missed this.

She ends the kiss, looking at him directly in his eyes to convey the urgency of the situation. He nods, noting how serious she is, and brings them up to the surface.

"What's going on?"

She ignores the surprised shouts of her crew, all watching the show. "A few of my crew were cursed with the Red Death," and with a deep breath, she continues: "I need the extract of the bloodflower."

Chōsō is the guardian of Scarlet Island, one vicious enough if it warrants his ire. He's the truth behind the rumours, behind the disappearances of those who dare intrude upon his territory. She knows how reluctant she is to help humans, what with the story merfolk have with them.

Still, she has to ask. While Yuki could go look for them herself, he will do so quicker, and most importantly: he's immune to their poison, and can safely handle them while the extraction happens.

"I see." He furrows his brows, deep in thought. "How many are with Red Death? How much more do they have?" He asks.

Yuki ignores how her hand trembles, gripping him tightly. "Twelve. About a day and a half at most. At worst, tonight."

She doesn't let any of her frustration slip into her face, but Chōsō seems to notice it either way. He kisses her forehead, a reassurance Yuki didn't know she wanted. "Okay."

Yuki sags against him, tension leaving her body. Thanks to the seas. I didn't want them to die, she almost voices out loud. Not like this.

Carrying her towards the rope hanging around for her to go back up to her ship, Chōsō makes sure she's got a tight grip on it before letting go, and Yuki―fuck, this is corny, but―already misses his touch.

"I'll be back by three-quarters," he says to her, and Yuki still doesn't know all the idiosyncrasies of the merfolk language, but she's sure that's their way of saying mid-afternoon, more or less. "Take care, Yuki."

And, before leaving, kisses her again, rougher than before, less chaste. She smiles into it, helpless when it comes to him. She's left breathless, and, yeah, teaching him how to kiss the human way was definitely one of her brightest ideas.