The police said it would be a week before they could arrange a search party to find Haru. Tokaku had stormed off at that, frustrated by their lack of concern. Perhaps the authorities were much too accustomed to the peaceful atmosphere of their tiny port town to take the matter seriously. Tokaku was worried for Haru's safety. She was certainly desperate, taking out their savings from their second hiding place. The money that had been stashed in Haru's bureau was unsurprisingly absent, but the bag of coins hidden in their fireplace remained in its place, the bricks still covered in ash just as she had left it. She was thankful that no one had attempted to use the fireplace to cook.

Without giving notice to the servants, she left that same day. Her only clue was an button under the bed, made of pearl with a tiger carved in its face. The object had been immediately recognizable; a prisoners she had once interrogated - a blonde pirate with a vicious smile - had a jacket with those same buttons. There was no chance of a mistake, either. Items like this, made with great care and detail, could not be mass-produced. Unless the jacket had been lifted from its previous owner, Tokaku knew who had kidnapped Haru.

The trouble lay in tracking down the pirates. They were certainly laying low after such an escapade and Tokaku had no means of chasing them down. Using her weight as Lieutenant Commander of the Royal Navy was out of the question. They would not bother with a petty task such as finding a missing person.

She had no crew, ship, or direction, only a clue as to whom she should chase. It wasn't much but she would have to make do. With two coins she paid for a ship to take her to Port Royale, a well renowned pirate's den. It was considered the modern day Sodom and certainly smelled like it. Its inhabitants stank of the rotting sea. Tokaku had only just set foot there and she already couldn't wait to leave. This wasn't her first time weaving her way through its narrow streets and even narrower people; she had years back fulfilled an undercover mission. Her dress wasn't unlike what she had worn during that assignment. She was dressed in ragged, loose-fitting brown pants and an oversized shirt to look like a street urchin. To dress in her Royal Navy uniform or even in casual dress would draw too much attention.

When she first came to Port Royale years back it had been to confirm a rumor that her Commanding Officer had not only deserted the Royal Navy but also moved to Port Royale. She had found Kaiba galavanting behind a bar, slinging ale up and down the rows of tables for customers, but she had never said she saw him. It was the only time she had disobeyed an order. Why she had done it, she wasn't sure. Kaiba had even noticed her, but hadn't tried to blackmail her. He hadn't even spoken to her.

Tokaku was relieved to see the man sitting behind the bar just as he had been when she left him. He looked slightly different with wrinkles dotted at the corners of his eyes and streaks of gray hair intermingling with silver hair. His hair had at one time been smooth, but several strands had started to thin and stick out of place like broken wire.

Tokaku calmly sat at the bar, right in front of him. Kaiba immediately recognized her and stopped polishing the mason jar he was holding. He paused, then grinned malevolently, but before he could speak Tokaku intercepted him.

"I need help."

She explained everything quickly. Even as Kaiba attended to other customers, she knew he was listening from the way he tilted his ear slightly towards her and the cruel smile that grew as her story progressed. When she finished, Kaiba couldn't help but laugh.

"You really are pathetic, Tokaku!"

Tokaku flinched inwardly at the words, but on the outside she kept her cold demeanor. "You know I can tell the Royal Navy where you've been all this time."

This only made Kaiba cackle louder, "And after that, you'll have to explain why you didn't report that you found me years ago. That you disobeyed orders." He leaned forward over the bar. "That was the only time you ever thought for yourself, wasn't it. Did your heart race when you decided to lie? Did you feel alive?"

"I need a boat," Tokaku said, ignoring him.

Kaiba drew back, giving Tokaku space, resigning himself to cleaning more mason jars and chipped glasses. "You need more than a boat. You need a crew. . . A boat needs a team to maneuver the seas. You should know that. More than that- you're asking for a boat with a crew willing to get close to a pirate ship." He slung the bar towel over his shoulder and delicately placed the glasses on the back wall. "The only vessel that isn't a navy ship that is willing to get close like that. . . " He smirked haughtily. "You'll need pirates to find a pirate ship."

"Whatever it takes," she said simply. "And whatever the cost."

X

Haru woke up, startled by pans crashing to the floor. She struggled to stand up, her body oddly heavy and her legs and arms numb. She looked at her surroundings instead and for a moment was confused to find herself not in her bed but in a chamber behind bars facing a kitchen. The ground seemed to sway under her feet and there was salt in the air. Only the latter was familiar. It took some time for her mind to clear and until then she stared dumbly from the floor to the kitchen. Slowly it all came back to her: the crowd of thugs in her bedroom, their voices haughty and unrefined. She recalled asking what they wanted: her. But what for? Did they ever answer that? Her head ached, and thankfully she was able to move her hand if only to rub her temple.

Again, she looked towards the kitchen, blocked off by metal bars. This time, she noticed a woman behind the stove, her back towards her as she reluctantly picked up the fallen pots and pans.

Haru watched as she tried to regain the strength to stand up, clutching the bars with shaking hands. The metal was moist and cold, disgusting. Still, she used it as a crutch, managing to get to her knees.

The woman picking up the pots and pans stopped, hearing Haru's movements. As she turned her face towards her, Haru's eyes widened in surprise. The woman wasn't what she imagined pirates to look like, assuming she was a pirate. Tokaku had mentioned once that some pirates were women and they were more brutal than their male counterparts. Tokaku had described them as callous, immoral, and disgusting, and Haru had felt that was true hearing the voices that abducted her last night. She had imagined missing teeth and peg legs. But the woman before her had none, with the aura of a quaintrelle. She had long fuchsia hair with two elegant curls framing her heart-shaped face. She was tall and lithe, and as if that wasn't enough, she wore high-heeled boots made of the highest quality leather Haru had ever seen. Haru blushed, eyes following up her legs. How bold of this woman to wear a short dress that didn't even reach her knees! Again, she had never seen such a sight, her heart skipping a beat at the thought of wearing a daring ensemble.

She thought how comfortable it would be to wear a short dress or just a chemise in this balmy weather. Her face suffered another flush across her cheeks. She was embarrassed just for thinking it.

Still. . . she felt this quaintrelle woman was courageous, if also intimidating. The woman rested a hand on her hip as she regarded Haru, grin sharp and as welcoming as a harpy.

"That little brat's tranquilizers are strong. Not that that scares Isuke." She made sure to say the last sentence in case anyone besides the two of them were listening.

"Where is Haru?" It was the first thing she thought to ask.

"Why should Isuke tell you?" She ran her fingers through her curls and twirled the strands round and round. Haru noticed her nails were perfectly filed and clean and wondered what her position of power was on the ship: certainly not hard labor.

"Anyways. Isuke doesn't have time to entertain prisoners." She turned her back to her and went back to cooking. Haru watched with a frown as she threw whole vegetables and a still feathered fowl into a boiling pot, ignoring the array of fresh spices at her disposal, not even bothering to add a pinch of salt. Isuke shrugged, wiping her hands and then pulling up a chair near the stove and filed her already perfect nails.

Haru knew that if she spoke Isuke would ignore or berate her, not to be bothered with her questions. In the meantime, Haru forced herself to stand up, a job in itself as her legs still felt like noodles. She occasionally chanced a glance towards the bubbling pot, sure that Isuke wouldn't notice it bubble over.

Haru wondered where they were. The air was absent of the cry of seagulls, meaning they had left the shore. Now it really was impossible for her to see Tokaku again. Her eyes misted at the grim realization, but she couldn't find it in herself to cry. Perhaps she had exhausted all her emotions for Tokaku and finally became a dry husk.

She remembered when they first met at a party: Haru was giggly and carefree, offering glass after glass of wine to a reluctant Tokaku. Back then, Tokaku didn't have as many responsibilities, but she was also more uptight. That was. . . until Haru unknotted her inflexible nature with a few drinks.

In no time, they were away from the crowds, in a back room, tearing at each other's clothes. Haru had thought that it was strange she was attracted to a man - that wasn't like her. Before Tokaku had arrived to the party, Haru had begun to resign herself to not finding true love. Other women who felt the same way were hard to find. It was only when she reached down Tokaku's pants that it all made sense, and she couldn't help but laugh- and then cry as Tokaku threw up all over her dress.

While that had been traumatizing for them both, Haru felt it was fate. If they had simply tumbled together in the safety of the back room, they may not have met each other again. The next morning after that debacle, Tokaku had visited her with a new dress in her arms, face red as a beet as she apologized. Haru had waved off the matter and invited her for tea. They married less than a month later.

Haru missed the past: the sweet memories it contained, herself at her most joyful, and Tokaku of course. When had her optimism run dry, she wondered? When had it started to drain, could she ever obtain it again? Assuming she survived this hardship.

"Ah! Goddammit!" Isuke violently cursed. The pot had overflowed, run dry and burned all the food. She kicked the stove, contributing more choice words that made Haru gawk. Although Isuke didn't look like the pirates Haru imagined, she had the vocabulary of one.

"This is such a pain. Cooking doesn't suit Isuke at all." She huffed, knocking the pot full of burnt food off the stove. The force of its clatter made Haru jump and feathers from the unplucked bird fluttered everywhere. Isuke stared at the charred contents.

"If you had paid attention that wouldn't have happened," Haru said.

Isuke turned, crossing her arms dismissively. "If it's so easy, then why don't you cook?"

"Haru can if Isuke lets her out."

Isuke raised a brow, considering. "That's 'Isuke-sama.'"

Haru nodded, feeling a wave of relief as Isuke pulled a set of keys out of her pocket among the ruffles of her short skirt.

A/N: Sorry it took so long! A lot of personal stuff happened. All good things though! I think the third chapter is when things will start to really pick up now that I've set the foundation. Thanks for reading everyone! See you all again soon.