Orihime couldn't remember the last time she'd slept in a bed. After the initial shock of her rescue and discovery of her rescuer's identity, sleep came upon her that night like a gale.
She awoke late the next morning, buried up to her nose in sheets, real sheets – not makeshift straw that needed changing – and pillows. At first she let her eyes remain closed, smiling as she burrowed into the pillow, pulling the sheet over her higher, every inch of her body deep in the mattress.
And then the ship shifted on the waters and she recalled she wasn't home in her own bed. Her eyes flung open, trying to take in the bright room of the captain's quarters in a single glance. She was alone in the bed, the blinds at the windows letting the day's light peek through the reed slats. She sunk into the mattress, sighing.
The room was the width of the ship, partitioned off from the first room. The windows were closed with lowered blinds and she could see shutters locked open to each side. Her fingers closed tighter around the sheet, parts of what Renji had told her about not being a pirate replaying through her mind.
"Not a pirate, but he sunk the Yellow Lilly," she murmured to herself, trying to believe it.
Footfalls from the first room made her look to the doorway where muslin curtain was pulled. She sat up, inching the sheets higher at her chest.
Renji pushed aside the curtain enough to see her, grinning at her wide-eyed face above the mound of sheets. "You're awake. Hungry?"
Despite her rather large supper, she was. She nodded.
He swept open the curtain. "Come on. You can eat up on deck."
A few moments later she followed him up to the sunny main deck. Her hasty combing of her fingers through her hair was immediately retangled as the breeze shifting across the waters caught her. Renji pulled a wooden crate to the side of the quarterdeck stair for her.
He crouched beside her as she sat, noting her slight recoil. "I made something of a hasty departure from Merristone," he said, watching her try to tame her hair from her face as a gust of wind tossed it. "This isn't my usual crew, so keep yourself close, and don't speak to anyone except Izuru."
She nodded. "Okay."
He looked down as she pulled her feet closer to the crate. "We'll get you other clothes soon, but until then you're free to plunder my closet for anything you can fit into." He chuckled at the surprise and blush crossing her face. "You're not going to fit into any of those tiny dresses Rukia used. That I know." He stood as Izuru met them with a bowl and small jug, which he gave to Orihime.
"Oh, thank you," she said, smiling into the bowl.
"'Morning," Izuru said before turning to Renji. "Got a small dot on the horizon, Captain."
Renji turned to look in the direction Izuru pointed. "Would you drop the captain stuff?"
Izuru shrugged. Across the wide blues water a black point was visible on the horizon. Renji watched it without a spyglass. It was barely visible, appearing to heading up behind them.
He nodded. "It's not following a typical trade route," he decided, searching the rest of the horizon for any other sign of ships. There were none. He glanced to the center of the deck where a few of his newer crewmen had wandered for a better view of Orihime on the crate. His attention flicked to her.
She had no qualms about eating. She'd dug through the bowl of salted scallops, dried figs, and one of the few small melons they'd gotten from Dove. He watched her lick off a few fingers, oblivious to the crew enjoying the rare sight.
Renji rethought her presence on deck. "About your duties!" he called to the men finding excuses to close the distance between them and Orihime. He looked to Izuru. "See if there is anything left of the cargo we lifted from the Lilly."
Izuru nodded, looking from him to Orihime. "Most of it we took north last trip."
"Check the lowest hold. There should be a couple reserve chests." Renji headed for the largest of his too-curious crewman. "Bring anything up."
"Aye, Renji."
Orihime was unaware of the leering attention on her. She hadn't had more than bland bread and a gruel type of mush occasionally during her stay in the prison and the variety of tastes in the bowl was welcome. She picked out a small button of scallop, knowing it was fish, but unsure what type by its salt-shriveled appearance.
Loud voices from the center of the deck made her look there, hugging her bowl closer on her lap. Renji stood facing an exceptionally large man who wore nothing but breeches and a cross baldric of knives at his chest, an angry look on his face as his captain threatened him. The voices lowered, the two smaller men with the largest sending her appreciative stares.
It wasn't the kind of appreciation a woman wanted, Orihime knew; too much like the kind Nnoitra had shown her, and she unconsciously pulled her skirt farther over her legs. Renji said something she didn't quite hear, moving so his body blocked the men's view of her. Her eyes dropped from them, her attention on the bowl's contents.
A moment later another shadow covered her and she looked up to see Renji. He took her elbow and lifted her to her feet. "Come on," he said, angling her to the quarterdeck stair that rose over the cabins below. "You'll have more privacy up here."
She followed his direction up the stairs, glancing over her shoulder to see what she was being taken away from, but he was too close behind her. He maneuvered her to the rail side that overlooked the deck and pulled a crate near it.
"Sit there. They can look at your back," he said, grinning as she sat down slowly. "That'll be enough for some of them, but you won't have to look at them."
She didn't look behind her, instead watching as he pulled another wooden crate to the port side and sat on it. He looked past her to the main deck, his face unreadable to what he saw.
The quarterdeck was shaded by the sails overhead and lined with a few other crates, some long, and he unfastened one of these lids and took out a falchion. It was a standard sword, with no ornamentation, its blade covered in wax to protect it from the sea water.
He tapped its blade against the crate to crack the wax, watching Orihime's fingers collect a piece of fish with her melon. To his surprise, she popped them both into her mouth, munching contentedly. He chuckled. "Not much variety in prison fare?"
She shook her head, wiping away an auburn strand of hair that the wind flung in her face. "Thank you again, Captain. Renji," she added, smiling a bit. "Thank you for getting me out of there."
He nodded, turning the falchion in his hand, the other hand's thumb feeling the dull edge. He peeled back more of the wax. "Decided where you want to go yet?"
"Home." The word came out automatically, and she stopped chewing, eyes widening on his amused look. "But ... but not –"
"You don't want to tell me where that is yet." He sighed, moving his two braids from his shoulder as the wind caught them. "That's fine. We've got time." He looked to where the small dot of a ship was still on the water line meeting the bright blue sky. "Maybe more time than we thought."
Orihime turned to look at the spot he watched. "Who are they?"
He shook his head, watching the angle of her silhouette as her body turned. "Don't know yet. Could be anyone. Don't worry about them."
She turned and looked to the bowl before her, eyes on the sword across his knees.
"You won't attack them?"
She didn't think it was a fair question, not if she believed him when he said he wasn't a pirate, but she'd concluded that there may be shades of illegality on the seas she wasn't fully aware of.
He shook his head, brushing off the flakes of wax that were beginning to stick in the hot sun. "Not unless provoked."
She nodded, reaching for the last slice of melon. She looked to him. "Do you want some?"
Renji glanced at the fruit. "Go ahead. The few melons we have will go bad in a couple of days." He leaned back against the rail behind him, watching her take a large bite of the mild green melon. "We won't be docking until the weather is cooler. I'm not following any trade routes, so there're fewer places to stop. I'm serious about you finding other clothes to wear." He estimated her height, eyes lingering on the curves of her legs as she tucked them under her skirt more. "I think I have a few shirts that'll be long enough for something to sleep in."
An extra layer of pink heated her cheeks beneath the tan she already had from their desert journey. "This is fine."
He leaned his elbows on his knees, reaching his hand for the hem of her skirt before she could move away. "It's ten days to the nearest port I'll dock at, Orihime," he said in a lower tone, grinning at her brighter pink on her cheeks. "You've got to come out of that frock sometime."
She nodded slowly, watching his fingers pull to the edge of the dress hem and let it drop. She didn't move away. "Thank you. Renji."
He sat back and returned to working on the sword. "You live with your brother? That's it?" He studied her for a moment, debating how far to push his less invasive questioning. "No betrothal in the near future?"
She shook her head. "My brother hadn't arranged one yet. There aren't many ..." she caught herself before speaking what she'd been dodging, and then said, "prospects."
"Why not?"
"We, we have a small community," she said after a pause.
He chuckled, wiping down the blade of wax flecks. "You know, Hueco Mundo is made up of criminals. A dumping ground for felons and a sanctuary for criminals."
Orihime nodded wholeheartedly, believing it.
"The same happened on Weaver's Isle," he said, watching her closely.
She shook her head. "Weaver's Isle is not made up of criminals, Captain," she said crisply. "They have a very kind population. There is no army to speak of, and there hasn't been a war in decades."
He grinned at her defense. "I didn't mean the criminal part, Orihime. I meant it's populated with outcasts from other countries. People seeking refuge."
For a moment she only stared back at him, her words catching in her next breath.
"During the Silk Wars a large community of silk worm farmers and a few others migrated to the Isle." He rummaged through the crate for a soft cloth and a small tin of polishing grit. "The Emperor had had enough of the rivalry between silk farmers and spinners and weavers. It got bloody, prices were outrageous, and a few strings got pulled. The silk farmers packed their worms and left for Weaver Isle. The silk industry dried up on the mainland. The technology was gone." He saw her nod subtly. "Have you heard that story?"
She snapped her mouth shut, knowing the details of the Silk Wars more acutely than he did. She nodded. "Yes."
Renji rubbed a bit of grit onto the blade and worked it in with the cloth, removing the excess coating of wax. "The Quincy tribe was banned from the mainland for aiding the silk farmers against the Emperor during the War. What few there were left, took refuge on the Isle." He watched her eyes follow the cloth along the falchion blade. "But you don't weave?"
A brief wave of guilt passed over Orihime. He was so close to the truth she figured he knew; not her personal truth, she decided, but close enough. She sighed, fingers tightening on the bowl in her lap. "No. My family used to weave, but, but they lost business to other clients." She tried to honey coat the words she didn't want to use. "My family turned to other means for support. My brother didn't agree with some of ... the changes, and he took me away when he left home." She mentally drew a line, a thick line she didn't want to cross through her memories. "But we don't weave."
Renji took a long moment to polish the sword metal, restless to hear what he thought she would say, proving him right, but also wanting to know if he was wrong. He watched the simmer of hesitancy in her face, her eyes clouding from hazel to a more violet hue in the noon's heat and sunlight.
He didn't push. Trust was something he'd learned took time and patience, neither of which he seemed to have the right amounts of at the same time. He nodded, running the cloth down the wax-free blade. "But you know people who weave?"
"Yes."
He looked to the deck behind her as Izuru appeared there carrying a leather strapped chest.
"One left, Renji," the blond man called up to him.
"Good. Leave it there and I'll get it." Renji looked back to Orihime. "And you know Quincys, too?"
For a moment she didn't speak, returning his stare for silence. "There aren't many left," she said softly, searching his face. "They're a very noble tribe."
He nodded. He placed the sword back in the crate and stood up. He offered her his hand. "You can go back below. My crew's had enough distraction for now. You can come back up this evening when it's cooler on deck."
Orihime stood and looked to the main deck before thinking.
At the main derrick the three crewmen and a few more from earlier had gathered, watching as she stepped closer to Renji.
He took her hand as she lifted it, her attention still on the men. "I have one chest left from a previous haul," he said, avoiding the source of the chest Izuru held. "Maybe you can find something to interest you in it."
There was much to interest Orihime in the chest, and over the course of the next week she investigated every item in it. The days fell into a schedule during that time. She learned that the Scarlet Reaper was usually farther north, as Renji preferred the cooler seas to the heat of some of his arrest warrants still haunting him in a few ports. Not every dock master and governor had gotten news of the Emperor's leniency to the red-haired captain. Not yet.
She knew Renji slept in the desk chair in the first room of the captain's cabin at night, something that made her feel guilty for stealing his bed, but he seemed willing to give it up.
She also knew the ship was under a sparse crew that Renji's hasty departure from Merristone made necessary as the port shut down to traffic. Every port along the coast was preparing for any problem with Aizen Sousuke, and every sister, daughter and wife was closely watched.
It made her nervous about the ship that had tailed the Scarlet Reaper for the past week. She stood at the bedroom window, looking out across the evening waters that shimmered with pale moonlight as stars played overhead. At the watery horizon she saw it, the ship that never gained nor lagged, always within sight, never veering from their course.
She didn't like it. She knew Renji didn't either.
Thoughts of Renji sent a flush through her, and she tried to pass it off as the heat of the day still in the bedchamber. She knew it wasn't. In her week on the ship she'd grown more at ease, realizing he wasn't going to demand answers about her homeland. She could see he wanted to know, but their conversations didn't stagnate on the topic.
She'd also noticed something else, something she couldn't quite place her finger on, but something familiar. Not about him, not about Renji, she thought, her gaze anchored on the tiny shape she knew to be a ship on the horizon. Something else.
It wasn't the stories about Captain Abarai or the Scarlet Reaper that were familiar. She knew some of the stories, but there was something else. Something that hadn't kept her from sleep the first night on the Hueco Mundo desert with him.
She sighed and sat at the bench at the window, leaning on the sill, appreciating the cooler evening breeze that found its way through the bright red gauze dress she'd put together in the last few days.
The chest Renji let her have access to was filled with possibilities, and most of the items she recognized. At first she was upset that he'd kept a souvenir from the Yellow Lilly. She knew the rolls of blue and red gauze fabric, knew the lavender and green silks, knew the fragrant oils.
She looked down at the small jar in her hand. It was Renji's favorite, she knew, and the one she'd secretly begun to prefer wearing.
It hadn't been on the Yellow Lilly.
Orihime knew that.
In fact, the last time it and the gauze material were shipped from her brother's stock was the last time she'd watched the unknown ship at the dock from her homeland island. She wasn't supposed to be there. Sora had told her the dangers.
"I'm sorry, Sora," she murmured, looking to the jar.
For two months there had been a surge in shipping from Weaver Isle. Trade was illegal to the mainland of Seireitei, and the few smugglers who chanced the voyage were scarce. But one ship had made regular trips for two months, braving the bounty hunters sent out by the Emperor, and kept a steady flow of goods from the Isle to the mainland.
And then it had disappeared.
Orihime frowned. The ship stopped coming around. There was no warning, no reason.
She knew little about the ship. No one knew anything. Even Sora. It had appeared without flag or banner, its escutcheon covered by a black canvas. No names were given, and none were asked. Good prices were paid for the illicit cargo to be sold on the mainland, and the merchants on Weaver's Isle were only too happy for the market.
Orihime knew it came at night, was loaded at one of the three docks her brother allowed, and then left before morning sunrise. She wasn't supposed to know even that much about it. Sora had forbidden her.
She smoothed the softly-dyed red gauze over her knees. It was a light material, dyed by cochineal, the only source of which was the hot, dry southern part of Weaver's Isle. It was highly prized, and brought rich prices from anywhere merchants dared sell it. While she did not weave, she could sew, and within the week had made herself two more dresses to add to the blue one Renji had supplied her.
Sora had warned her of the dangers, but Orihime hadn't listened. After the first week of hearing about the stories of the unnamed ship that slipped into the port to quietly load and whisk away again by morning, she'd snuck to the hillside overlooking the harbor. Sure enough, after several nights of watching, she'd seen the ship approach, dock and tie-off, and then be loaded. She could see little at her distance; no name, the ship's sails furled, its color lost to the dark of night. There was nothing to distinguish its crew or captain.
Some of the smile dropped from her face as she thought more about Renji. She'd come to two possibilities.
What she'd seen in the chest with the gauze material and exotic perfumes, what she'd heard of the Yellow Lilly and Captain Abarai and his ship – she'd concluded Renji had either commandeered the unknown smuggler and his ship, or was the smuggler.
She sighed, wishing she'd had a better glimpse of the captain or had seen the ship's hidden name. If it was Renji, why had he suddenly stopped trade? Why had he turned his back on the Isle?
It had been during one of those fruitless, secretive outings at night to watch the docks that she'd been captured by Ulquiorra Schiffer.
Orihime didn't like to think about that part. Sora had told her to stop, and she agreed to, but she hadn't.
She'd paid for it, too. Weeks in a prison cell.
And Sora had paid, too.
She looked to the doorway as Renji entered the bedchamber. For a moment she estimated him, comparing him to the man she'd seen moving on the dark dock those few nights as the unknown ship was loaded months ago. She hadn't had a very good view then.
He didn't look like the man, she decided, or any of the men belonging to the unknown ship.
Renji spotted her at the bench. He looked to the oil lamp that was unlit at the table. "You're sitting in the dark?"
She nodded, studying him carefully, wishing she'd had a better glimpse of the smuggler at the docks before it had disappeared. "Have you had the Scarlet Reaper long?"
He lit the lamp and looked to her. "Questioning my sailing ability, Orihime?"
She thought he was serious until be chuckled, joining her at the bench as lamplight from the table edged into the room. "Oh, no. I think it's fine. Oh, I didn't mean anything like that, Renji."
He leaned against the armoire beside the bench watching her straighten the skirt over her knees. "You've made good use of your time and the contents of the chest." He sniffed the air, grinning at the trace of heliotrope and ylang ylang she wore. "Very nice."
She smiled, this time glad he couldn't see her blush. She still wanted an answer. "You're a smuggler, not a pirate?"
He nodded, crossing his arms, trying to read what was in her face beside the slight smile she was reluctant to show. "Are you after a reward? The Emperor has lifted most of my warrants. I'm not worth very much at the moment."
"Oh, no." She sat straighter on the bench, searching out the tattoos she could see at his forehead. There'd been no mention of any markings on the smugglers that aided the Isle, but she'd heard little about them from Sora. "Have you ... have you smuggled recently?"
He shook his head as he sat beside her. She pulled her skirt closer, content to remain. She set the jar on the floor.
"You've got some interesting questions tonight," he said, resting one arm at the window sill near her shoulder. He looked out at the dark water to where he knew the ship following had been loitering. His eyes went to her arm, the gauze material a simple, sleeveless dress design she'd put together quickly, surprising him.
And pleasing the crew, he also knew.
"What do you really want to know, Orihime?" he asked, watching her fingers tense at her knee on the red material.
"You said the chest came from the Yellow Lilly." She held her breath, hoping his reaction wouldn't be hostile.
He shook his head. "It did." He looked to each of her eyes. "You don't think so?"
She nodded, swallowing as she tried to think how best to phrase her next query. "Everything in it was from the Yellow Lilly?"
He grinned, nodding. "No. Not everything. Some items were put in there from other trips." He liked that the abrasions and bruising had disappeared, that she hadn't moved from his proximity.
Her gaze dropped to her hand at her knee. She pulled at the slack red material. "Like this?"
He wished she'd ask, outright ask whatever was going through that thick auburn head of hers. He nodded, watching the braid of amber and garnet at her collarbone dangle over her collar. "Like that."
He heard a rumble of footsteps from the deck above, cursing lowly as he knew it would result in an argument among the crew. There'd been more of them lately.
Orihime heard it, too. She nodded, her questions falling away.
Renji felt he could almost see them slip from her. "You can ask anything you want. I've told you the truth."
She nodded, not quite ready to be as candid. "Maybe, maybe later?"
For some reason that maybe sounded more promising than he thought it should. "Sure." He stood up as a few shouts and curses rang through the air from the deck. "I'm going to see what the commotion is about." He stood up, watching her turn her head, making the moonlight highlight copper on the window side. "Unless you've got another question."
Her fingers crumpled the gauze at her leg. "How long have you had the Scarlet Reaper?"
A grin escaped him. "Eight months. Does that help any?"
She smiled, nodding. "Yes. I think it does, Renji."
"Good."
He left then, and she wished she'd had the nerve to ask a few more questions, but to do that would give away what she wasn't yet ready to.
And also, she thought, looking back out the window at the mirrored moonlight on the water, she may not get the answer she wanted. She wasn't sure where that would leave her.
A/N: Thanks for reading and reviewing!
