Chapter 20: Freedom in Captivity

Himeno

I had vowed to show no more weakness. Yet at the sight of the dead woman's body—and especially the look of fear fixated upon her face—my body betrayed me. My stomach's contents emptied themselves forcefully into the ocean, where the sight of the sacks floating on the surface triggered another wave of nausea. I felt spent. It was as if I had thrown up the anger that had peaked in Hayate's cabin, leaving behind only exhaustion.

I felt the warmth of a hand on my back, and for a moment, I felt as if I was back at home.

"There, there," she said in a soothing voice as she rubbed my back, "it will be all better soon."

I shivered as I recovered from throwing up yet another time and felt the relief from feeling nauseous only emptying one's stomach could bring. As I stood over the basin, expecting to have to throw up again, my dear older sister Takako continued to rub my back gently yet firmly.

"It will be all better soon," she repeated.

'It will be all better soon,' I repeated to myself over and over as I felt the hand rub my back. Although the gesture was not as tender as my sister's, my eyes welled at the thought of any kindness that held a shadow of hers. Whose hand brought about such kindness? Hayate's—no—it was rough from work, rough to the touch from working with metal day in and day out. It was Go's hand that could be so tender; it was only Go who could show such pure, unselfish concern. Which was more than any of those women had received in their final moments.

Which was more than my sister had received in her final moments.

I turned away from the railing, my head averted. I could feel the surge of anger that had consumed me in Hayate's cabin begin to flood my senses once more, and I did not trust myself to rein it in. For I knew that hidden within my anger was fear—and guilt—which only served to escalate my anger even further. I wanted to lash out, but was too afraid, and too ashamed. And so tired, tired of holding onto anger that had no outlet.

I felt Go's hand on my head, patting it gently as if sensing the turbulence of my emotions. A gesture that reminded me of the mother who I barely remembered now, the mother whose gentleness had enveloped me as a young child.

I smiled after I had packed the soil into the pot around the tiny plant.

"It's done, Mom. Will a pretty flower bloom now?" I asked.

She smiled at me and said, "A flower won't bloom just by planting it. It needs soil, water and warm sunlight. If it's lacking any one of these things, it won't bloom. So you have to look after them well and protect them."

"Yeah, I understand! I'll protect the flowers!" I responded with full confidence.

Confidence I did not have now. I had not been able to protect the flowers we had planted together. I had not been able to protect my mother from the illness that took her life. I had not been able to protect my older sister from her fate. I had not been able to protect my younger sister from the grief that had overwhelmed her. And I was unable to protect Mannen now.

I was even unable to protect the ambition of revenge that had brought me aboard the Pretear in the first place.

I felt my vision blurring as tears of frustration filled them. How I wanted to run a sword through that demon captain's heart, to see him writhe in agony as his blood drenched my grinning face. How I wanted to scream my sister and first mate's names as he died at my hands. How I wanted to see Hayate's expression when I rid him of his captain…

I felt a hand on my chin, gently pulling my face upwards. I looked into Go's eyes, my vision blurry with tears I refused to shed. I stood there, trembling with anger, frustration and despair that I had been struggling to hold at bay—and his arms were around me. And the dam broke. In his arms, I felt safe. In his arms…

It was only in our father's arms that Mawata would cry. Every year when we commemorated the day of our mother's death, Mawata would be calm and solemn. She would stand in front of our mother's grave, solemn, her hand clenched into a fist and trembling, as I cried into Takako's skirt without shame. It was only when our father picked her up into his arms that she would cry. Only in his arms would she feel safe enough to let her guard down to be the crybaby she had every right to be. Our father's arms was Mawata's safe haven. The safe haven—

That I had found in Go aboard this hellship. He had made me smile and laugh even when there was no cause to feel any happiness. He looked after me and taught me how to defend myself with a sword. He taught me to be stronger and that I did not need to lose my humanity to do so. He—

My tears were flowing faster now as I finally felt I had found the one place where I could abandon all reserve. My hands clenched onto him in an effort to keep myself from washing away with my tears. I needed to move forward. If at least to atone for my sin of inaction. To atone…

My father and I were walking back home after the funeral ceremony. Our entire village had come for the ceremony; my sister Takako had been well-loved by all for her generosity and her kindness. It seemed cruel to us that we were still alive and breathing while someone as selfless as her was at the bottom of the sea.

I kept myself together during the ceremony, both for my father's sake and for Mawata's. My father was barely coherent this morning; he had spent the majority of yesterday when we received the news drinking his way through one bottle after another. My sister Mawata had shut herself in her room and had refused to come out.

When we returned home, my father retreated back into the safety of his room, most likely to try to find comfort in yet another bottle. I trudged my way over to Mawata's room. I felt achy all over and felt the onset of a pounding headache. All I wanted to do was sleep and get up with the hope that tomorrow would bring better news.

"Mawata?" I called out in a tired voice while knocking on her bedroom door. No answer.

"Mawata?" I tried again, knocking a little harder. No answer.

I tried calling out to her once more. Still no answer.

My exhaustion setting in, I turned away from her door, assuming she was resting. I collapsed onto my bed—my jacket and shoes still on—and fell into an uneasy sleep.

"Himeno! Wake up! Mawata's missing," my father's voice rang in my ear, jolting me awake.

"She's not in her room, asleep?" I asked stupidly as I cleared the fog of sleep from my head.

My father shook his head, panic spread across his features. And I felt as if my heart stopped. For it suddenly dawned on me why he was in such a panic. I bolted upright and raced outside with my father. A single nod passed between us before we went our separate ways to search for her. I inquired whether anyone had seen her, but no one had seen her since yesterday. The panic—and the guilt—was rising inside of me.

'Mawata, please be okay,' I prayed as I searched every inch of our tiny port town.

By the time the sun was low in the sky, my father and I had still not found her. There was only one place we had not checked, and I hoped with all my heart that she would be there. As I made my way over to the docks, I noticed a crowd forming near the water edge. Fearing the worst, I pushed my way through the onlookers only to find—

I could not understand what I was seeing. I was seeing but not comprehending. I did not avert my eyes but my mind had shut down the instant it was confronted by the scene before me. I could not—would not—accept what I saw. It was a sick joke and that was all. And I began to laugh as I collapsed to the ground.

I felt arms all around me, holding me close, shielding me from the incomprehensible sight that was burned into my vision. The sight of my father holding a limp body that had short turquoise hair and lifeless green eyes was etched into the back of my eyelids. But I did not understand it. It was too absurd.

And I continued to laugh.

I could not laugh now. The shock from the moment I had seen my sister's body seemed to have prepared me for the horror that I had experienced aboard this ship. I could not shut my mind from it; I could not protect myself. And I was glad it was so. This way, I could feel the guilt searing through me and it would give me strength to fight against that demon.

I looked up to thank Go—to thank him for giving me the sanctuary I had needed in order to recover. For giving me the sanctuary I thought I would never have again. Overwhelmed with gratitude for his kindness, I brought my arms around his neck.

"Thank you, Go," I murmured into his ear. Suddenly aware of the intimacy of my action, I pulled away and managed a quick bow of thanks before rushing off the main deck. I caught a glimpse of a look I did not understand in Go's eyes before I headed below deck.

I made my way down towards the brig. I had not thought of what I would do once I got there, but I knew I had to do something. It wasn't until I was almost there that I realized I was completely unarmed. Well, no matter. I could use my fists at the very least. And if I was lucky, I would go unnoticed.

I kept to the shadows, trying to make myself as inconspicuous as possible. My heart was hammering in my chest. I had no weapon, no plan. Only a desire to help the unfortunate prisoners aboard this ship. Only a hope against hope that I could pull this off. If I was caught—

"Didn't think you would be stupider than the boy," a voice behind me said flatly.

I spun around, eyes wide, my breath caught in my chest. Kei was standing there, his arms crossed, his face displaying a hint of annoyance.

"Fancy seeing you here," I said, trying to plaster a stupid grin on my face.

His expression did not change. Nor did he try to approach any closer to me. Now what? I tried to imagine what was going through Kei's head—and all I came up with was that he was annoyed I was trying to interfere with a means to make a profit. Which was something he absolutely did not tolerate.

"I just got lost on my way to the hold…guess I took a wrong turn?" I managed weakly. His eyes narrowed. This wasn't working at all. Time to run—

His fist connected with my stomach. I felt the wind knocked out of me as I doubled over in pain. Eyes tearing and gasping for air, I twisted in place out of his grasp and kicked upward. I felt my foot connect and allowed myself a quick smile, until I realized I had connected with his open hand. He was now slowly squeezing my foot while simultaneously twisting it. I howled as he nearly snapped my ankle in two.

I curled into a ball as soon as he released my foot, holding my twisted ankle close to me in hopes that the pain would subside. And I felt myself being bodily yanked from the ground into the air. I shut my eyes completely, both to keep the tears of pain from flowing and to keep myself from seeing what came next. Would he take me to Sasame? To Hayate? Or would he dump me into the ocean? In my current state, I would not even be able to swim.

I heard the creak of a door and felt myself being flung into a wall. And then the creak once more. I opened my eyes in shock; I knew that creak. It was the creak of a cell.

"Kei! Kei! Let me out of here!" I shrieked as he walked away.

"Gag him," I heard him command one of the crew members on guard. I bit hard on the first hand that came close enough to my face, which only caused me to receive a hard slap against the face. A wet rag was forced between my teeth as I flailed my fists uselessly. Another pair of hands pinned me down and bound my hands and, for good measure, my legs as well.

It wasn't until I was an immobile lump on the ground that I took in my surroundings. I was in the very cell filled with the prisoners I had intended to save. I shifted to try to see more of my surroundings, but was stopped in mid-action from the searing pain in my foot.

"Here, let me see it," a middle aged woman said to me kindly. I nodded. She tore a piece of her dress and used it as a bandage to hold my ankle joint in place.

"Rest it and it will heal," she said. I could only nod in gratitude. She reached up to remove the bindings of the gag in my mouth, but before she could untie it, the guards came up to the cell bars and jeered at me.

"I'll kill the first one of ya that unties him," he said, wiggling his tongue at me tauntingly.

"Just where you ought to have been all along, cabin boy," another sneered.

"Staying in the first mate's room—do you think he's been doing 'im?" the first pirate said, snickering.

"Right up the ass, just like the little prick he is," the other pirate responded.

I turned away from them and tried to ignore their remarks. I knew the crew hated and feared their captain and first mate—which was why I was able start a mutiny even as fresh as I was aboard the Pretear. But they were too cowardly to insult them directly. So I was the easy target that they could take out their frustration and hatred on.

They continued their quips. But as insulting as they were, they made me wonder—why had Hayate picked me up and kept me under his wing all this time? What benefit was he obtaining from the risk he took of watching over me? Surely not for nightly pleasures as these morons were suggesting. He had not once touched me in way that suggested he desired me. Then why?

Somehow, I didn't want to know the answer.

The more pressing issue at hand that I was ignoring with my useless ruminations was—how the hell was I going to get out of here? Or did I want to get out of here in the first place?

What had I accomplished coming aboard the Pretear? I had not confirmed what had happened to my sister, nor had I exacted my revenge on whom I thought was responsible. I had failed to successfully complete a mutiny. I suppose I had learned swordsmanship, taken a little boy under my wing—and how nice it felt to have someone like a younger sibling again, even if I was the last person to deserve it—and…

I silenced the last thought before it could dare to manifest itself.

What if my sister had not died aboard this ship? I had only rumors to go off of, after all. What if she had somehow escaped the attention of the captain? Could she have been taken captive and then…?

Perhaps this wasn't so bad after all. This could be fate giving me a lead that I had not considered before. If only my ankle wasn't so swollen and sore…

"We're here. Bring the prisoners above deck," Kei commanded.

I felt shackles clamp onto my wrists, weighing down my already bound wrists. The middle aged woman who had helped me with my ankle was stooped over, her gaze fixed to the floor as if she had already accepted her fate.

I, too, kept my gaze fixed downwards in order to keep my face hidden. I did not want to attract any attention now. If I could leave this ship as the prisoner I was and use my position to find out more about my sister, then I would take full advantage of it.

I sighed in relief as I made it off the ship. It was ironic; I felt free for the first time since I had been held captive aboard the Pretear.

"Ah, Master Kei," a voice drawled towards us. I managed a quick look upwards and saw a rotund man who was missing some of his teeth, his belly a barrel that I could mistake for a pregnant woman's belly. I averted my eyes as he came closer to us, his breath stinking of alcohol and rotting teeth.

"Never any pretty girls, eh?" he said, laughing.

I clenched my fists. So Sasame's hobby was that well known? It sickened me to hear that man's laughter, even as a sense of dread overcame me. While Sasame was cruel, this man was crude. If my sister had been sold to him…

"The asking price the usual, Master Kei?" the man said while picking at his blackened tooth.

"My captain would like supplies instead of gold this time," Kei responded.

The man bowed in a half-subservient, half-mocking manner.

"Your captain's wish is my command. But first, I will need to inspect the bodies," he stated.

"Very well. Do what you do best," Kei responded. He did not budge or even flinch as the slaver made his way down the line of chained prisoners, striping their clothes to examine their physique. My breath caught in my throat. If he found out I was a girl, I would be sent to be trained at a brothel faster than I could open my mouth to protest. But if that was where my sister was…

The slaver made his way in front of the kindly middle aged woman. When he approached her, she lifted her head in an almost dignified manner and said, "You will not own me."

And plunged a sharp rock into her neck, tearing a gash from one side to the other before falling to the ground. If only I had been able to free her, she would not have had to die. If only…

And the woman transformed into Takako in my mind. And suddenly, I feared that was what she would have done. Taken her own life to preserve her dignity rather than live a life that was not her own.

"Well, she was much too old to be useful in the brothel anyway," the slaver remarked, stepping past her mutilated corpse as if it were only a small annoyance.

I looked up at him, eyes blazing in fury at this disgusting creature. He chuckled when he saw me and took my chin in his filthy hands.

"Ah, he's got spunk. I like 'em that way. It's much more fun to break 'em down," he said, while his hand snaked around to massage my butt. I felt bile rise in my throat as he continued to knead my behind. I had no doubt what he would do to me the instant the transaction between him and Kei was over. And wouldn't it be the bastard's lucky day when he found out that I was a woman?

I twisted my head and brought my teeth down hand onto his hand. He yelped and jumped back. He licked the bite mark in his hand that was now actively bleeding.

"Fucking brat," he snarled, smacking me hard against the face. Massaging his wounded hand, he turned his attention back to Kei.

"Well, your captain never gave me no bad stock. Consider the deal done, Master Kei," he said as he spat at my feet.

As he and Kei proceeded to discuss the details of the trade, I was shuffled along with the rest of the prisoners, the dead body of the kindly woman left out in the sun for carrion feed.

I had seen the row of chained slaves coming into market before. The times I had gone on trips with my father and gone to market to sell our wares, I had seen them, row upon row of people with dead-looking eyes and tired feet, dragged to be sold. He had turned away both in disgust at the practice and to keep from gazing at their pitiful state for too long. As a policy, he never got involved with the slaving business and was part of a branch of a British trading company that proudly stated that as a service for the crown, it did not dare defile itself by dealing in slaves.

The irony that I, the daughter of such a man, would be a slave myself—from my own stupidity no less—was cruel. Holding back tears both from shame and from the sting from where the slaver had hit me, I trudged along towards the market.

When we arrived at market, I was relieved to see a scribe, taking down the names each of the prisoners gave. His logbook was thick, and I hoped I could have a glimpse of it to glean whether my sister had been here. To my luck, one of the prisoners collapsed to the ground, wailing, giving me the distraction I needed. I shuffled as quietly as I could towards the logbook amidst the chaos that ensued following the prisoner's outburst and began to scan the page before me.

I needed some way to flip through the pages, but with my hands bound behind me, I was out of luck. I considered flipping the pages with my teeth and began to lean down when a voice stopped me.

"Looking for someone in particular?"

I shot up, eyes wide, unclear whether the voice was kind or not. I found myself looking into the scribe's eyes. He had the look of someone well-educated and brought up in very different circumstances from the one he was in now. I nodded.

"Tell me the name. I have been here many years and do not forget a single name of a poor soul that comes through here," he responded.

I smiled at him in gratitude and spoke my sister's name. I looked at him expectantly—although I was not sure what I was hoping I heard as a response. After a moment's contemplation, he shook his head.

"No, I have not encountered anyone who gave me that name. Perhaps this person was lucky to have never come here," he replied.

I supposed that was true. My heart sank, however, that the one lead I had—the one foolish hope I had that my sister might have been alive—was gone. I needed to get back aboard the Pretear. But how? Kei was long gone, and he had made his position towards helping me very clear; I was as useful to him as a sack of potatoes. Good for barter and nothing else.

"Hand me that quill," I said to the scribe. He looked at me carefully before complying. I only had moments before the chaos from the prisoners who had broken down would be over. I hoped I had learned the lock picking trick Mannen had taught me recently. I sighed in relief when I heard a click and the shackles fell off of my wrists. I had almost finished the ones around my ankles when I heard a voice that froze me in my tracks.

"Going somewhere, brat?" the slaver hissed, grabbing me by the hair. I shrieked in pain, even as the exertion from his pull helped the last of the shackles on my ankles slip free. I knew I couldn't run—my ankle was too sore for that. And the market place was too monitored, but also very crowded. If I could slip away even for a moment—

"I'm gonna discipline you right 'ere and now," he snarled as his hands laced onto my breeches. I panicked. This couldn't happen now, not when I was so close to escaping.

As the reality of what was about to happen dawned upon me, my mind shut down to give way to pure instinct. An instinct to fight back and run. As his stinking breath came closer to me, I bit hard on his ear and tore it off, spitting out the disgusting taste of his blood and flesh. He brought his hands to his ear, hissing in pain. I moved next to kick him hard in the groin, but even in his pain, he saw me coming and stomped onto my already swollen ankle. I howled and paused in pain, giving him the opportunity to begin tearing my clothes off. And the blood rush I felt to fight ebbed away, giving rise to fear that froze me. In moments, he would find out I was a woman…and then—

I heard a choking sound come from my captor and saw the point of a sword sticking out from the middle of his massive belly. As the blood gushed from the wound, he released me and I gratefully pulled the remnants of my clothes back on. As the slaver fell, dead before his body had even hit the ground, I saw who had killed him.

"Hayate…" I managed weakly. I had never seen him look so angry. I was trembling, but whether from relief or from fear, I could not say. Without another word, he sheathed his sword and picked me up. He did not look at me as he carried me, but even as I looked up at him, I could tell he was furious.

"Hayate, I…" I began.

"Don't speak," he said in a hoarse voice.

He carried me back in silence, and I was almost glad to see the Pretear once again. He ignored the looks of the crew and headed straight to his cabin. After he placed me on his bed, he slammed the cabin door shut and faced me.

"What the hell were you doing?" he hissed.

I couldn't stop the tears then. Everything—everything that happened to me in such a short while—and my relief when Hayate came for me—

I heard his fist connect with the wall above me and I paused, hiccupping from the tears that I suppressed from shock. And I saw through my blurry vision as he looked down at me with eyes sharp and cold with anger. As I trembled in the face of his anger, he leaned in and brought his lips roughly onto mine. I felt tears escape as I felt his anger in that kiss—the anger as he nearly bit my lip with the ferocity of his action.

Why? Why? Why now of all times? And all that was pounding in my head was: Right up the ass, just like the little prick he is…

I shuddered and then was still, trying to silence everything in my mind. And just as suddenly as the moment began, it was over. He quickly pulled away and turned his back towards me.

"I need to have a word with the second mate. Stay put and don't do anything stupid," he said in a sharp voice as he headed out briskly, locking the door behind him.

I curled up into a ball, my hands over my lips, trembling from the flood of tears pouring out of me from relief and shock and waited for Hayate to return—while also dreading it at the same time.