The Betrayed Marionette

~.~.~

Amu didn't think she had ever been more furious - nor more scared - in all her life.

Well, perhaps that was an exaggeration, now that she thought about it. Maybe - now that her mind was growing increasingly dark and, in this mental pandemonium, sinking deeper into ever-darker places, recalling ever-darker memory - she thought that it was probably only suitable to say that she had never been more furious, for she had indeed felt such fear before in her lifetime so as to chill a soul to the core and in her head she still felt that heavy dread overcome her heart as she stood in the shadow of the gallows; as she faltered before the icy stare of the Captain and his pistol primed; she felt it overwhelm her shaky spirit as a bitter, winter wind as she descended down, down, down into the very depths of the jailhouse where the clanking of chains still resounded, where the dark drowned out all hope and happiness, where with such despair and sorrow she was forced to look upon the man she loved as a man already dead - damaged and departed…

And so Amu truly doubted now that she would ever feel such fear again... But fury? Well, the former Princess of Seiyo had a fiery streak sure enough and it burned with such a scalding heat that it was no small miracle that the very sea beneath them had not begun to simmer and spit and sizzle away in puffs of steam as she tried desperately to reign her temper. Ikuto was positive as he watched her pacing restlessly about the cabin, sneaking wary glances out the corner of his eye, trying to maintain that cool façade he so relied on as he heard her huffing beneath her breath, that he was perhaps as good a dead man as he had been all those months ago in that grubby cell. Amu was gathering energy, he thought - building steadily as a stirring squall - and, in all honesty, he was already starting to brace himself. Besides, even if she did decide to go easy on him when she finally unleashed her upcoming outburst, he had a feeling that his pride would not be so quickly spared.

But, Ikuto reasoned, he was the Captain. And a Captain had to stand his ground. He half-wished that Kukai had been a little slower in delivering the unexpected message instead of barrelling in like a bat out of hell at one of the most inopportune moments known to man. Honestly, everything about the man was haphazard - his speech; his humour; his clumsy strides, not to mention the way he so thoughtlessly threw himself headfirst into battle and somehow came out the other side inexplicably untouched. Ikuto didn't know how Kukai did it, but he supposed that, even if the young pirate's timing had been up to scratch, it wouldn't have changed a thing. Already he could feel the tide strengthening beneath his feet; a tug at his soul - as a pull from somewhere deep within his chest, growing as a gathering current, beckoning him toward the sun and beyond the horizon and unto new, untold shores across the sea and he knew that they - that he and Amu and Kukai and all these men aboard the Shining Black - had entered a new chapter. A new page. They had turned to face a new and untrod path in the grand scheme of their so far quite fruitless endeavour.

He knew it the moment his fingers had curled about that little scroll. He knew as soon as he saw the spark ignite in his sister's eyes. Ikuto knew it and he knew now that, whether Her Highness liked it or not, someone had called out to them.

And they would answer.

Kukai, Amu and Utau were all watching in amaze as the Captain slowly began to unfurl the little scroll, their hearts thumping, resounding throughout their chest, drowning out all else beneath that 'thump-thump-thump!'ing echoing about their ears. The wax seal came off almost entirely in one piece. It glowed like obsidian in the dim light across the desk and yet it was nothing compared to the the gleam in Ikuto's eyes as he held that little sliver of parchment up to the light, smirking deviously, his gaze enraptured as though this tiny fragment of ink and paper would grant him every wish he so desired. And, as far as any of them knew... It very well might.

Ikuto knew it would.

Inside his chest the tug grew raw and relentless. The tide was calling. But yet he could not afford the time to savour the moment.

"Ikuto!" Utau hissed suddenly. She inched forwards, her hands clasped together as if in desperate prayer, her eyes wide and hungry, poised and tense as though about ready to leap upon her brother and tear the information from his very lips. "What I'd give to know where that bastard is right now..!" she uttered, sounding suddenly out of breath, her chest rising and falling in time with the steady rise and fall of the sea outside. A puff of salt and spray shot up from the side of the stern then, just reaching the bottom of the grand glass windows, catching the rising sun and shining as a plume of diamond dust, golden and dazzling in the light. And Utau's eyes dazzled with it, sharp and bright as she snapped; "Open it, you idiot, Ikuto! How long we've waited for something like this! What does it say? Where's Kazuomi?"

Kukai and Amu both visibly held their breath at this, for, though Utau's temperament was by now well-known to all aboard the ship, such impatience was unheard of… But, to their surprise, Ikuto barely blinked. He was engrossed. His breath was short. His heart was racing, rattling furiously away in his chest. His blood was surging throughout his veins and his eyes still all a-shimmer, his brows furrowed as deepest cobalt eyes travelled across that little piece of parchment far more times than he could count, for he could not believe it - could not comprehend it..!

And, suddenly he burst out urgently;

"Amu, pass me those sea charts!"

Amu blinked, snapped effectively from focus as Ikuto's eyes fell upon her. It took a moment for her to compose herself, but she scurried over to a small stack of papers left piled on one of the bookshelves and obediently laid them out upon the desk. In one, swift movement Ikuto threw all useless items to the floor - candlesticks and dried-up quills and heavy, antique ink pots - and dove in immediately, frenzied, yet methodical, pulling sheets and sheets from amongst the pile and spreading them across the desk until there before them in the dim light there lay arranged almost the entire west coast of Seiyo and, to the side, arrangements of every little isle and colony in its waters. Ikuto traced his fingers down the edge of the continent, apparently caught up in great concentration, barely paying any heed to those left with him in the room. In fact, it was a good long while before he thought to tear himself away again. Ikuto straightened oh-so slightly, his voice faint and heavy, yet there was a lilt to his tone - a barely-audible waver - that had all hung eagerly upon his every word;

"I'll give you this, Kukai," he muttered, half-distracted by the charts laid out beneath him; "your bird did good. This message is from one of Kazuomi's men all right. Or, in any case, it was at first…"

A pause. An exchanging of puzzled glances. Amu cocked her head to one side, frowning.

"'At first?'"

And, slowly, Ikuto raised his head. His eyes caught the light of the rising sun and glinted as a brilliant flame as he held the mystery message tightly between his fingers, waving it before her face.

"It's been passed on." He said quickly as if it answered every one of their queries. And, when his companions looked even more at a loss than before; "This first half of parchment is from one of Kazuomi's men on-shore to another. It's written in code - most of it which is translatable to us by now…" And he shook his head as if to rid himself of all unnecessary thought; "It doesn't matter. It looks to be a summons of sort, only neither of them state where or what this summons entails-"

At this Utau huffed quite loudly, her indignant tone echoing across the room as she folded her arms and said; "Well what use is that to us?" She demanded. Kukai flinched somewhat at the ferocity of her voice, but, in all honesty, Amu thought that she had every right to sound irate - to be so caught up in exasperation and exhaustion as she was in that very moment. After all, no matter who or where the note had come from, if they could decipher nothing from it then, obviously, it should have been of no value and yet here was Ikuto, Ikuto was, prattling away over codes and sea charts, darting as a man possessed over his papers as if it would solve every one of their questions, apparently absorbed - mesmerised - in some little detail that they could not see…

But then he straightened and proffered the scroll to his sister and, with a delighted, deviant sort of smirk, he said;

"Look at it." Ikuto demanded. "It's been sent between Kazuomi's men, sure enough… But someone else has passed it on to us."

And, sure enough, when Utau took it and lay it out before them they saw that there was a second sheet of parchment, bound to the first by a newer, fresher seal of wax, yet this was not a seal as black as the night nor did it hold the little, scratchy symbols that Kazuomi had written as riddles about his works. No, rather, it was a faded, darkened sort of reddish-pink that put the Tsukiyomi siblings in mind of the gardens of their former home - of amaranth and clematis and the little, flowering vines that used to bloom above their mother's balcony - and in it's centre there sat the outline of a maiden in a billowing dress, spread all about her as a bell, and her hair, though it's features were too tiny and delicate to be wholly distinguishable, seemed piled high in many curls atop her head. Amu, for some inexplicable reason, of a sudden felt overwhelmed by some nagging sense of déjà-vu at the sight. It was as though some alarm had been rung in her head. It was as though some spark had been ignited; some recollection dragged up and dusty from the undefined depths of her brain, but, for the life of her, she could not work out why...

But she did not have any time to dwell on it, however, because at that moment Utau strode forwards and tore the new piece of parchment from the former, casting her gaze over it, her eyes as wide as dinner plates. Ikuto was still smirking.

"It looks like Kazuomi has a rat amongst his men." He declared then and there was an edge to his voice - a delightful little rise in his tone - that absolutely oozed with triumph, laced with a sadistic sort of mirth that seemed to saturate his very soul as he paced about the room, stalking like a cat before its prey; "And I think they want to get our attention. They've left us a bearing."

There was a pause - a heavy, yet apprehensive lull. Kukai and Amu whirled around and exchanged astounded expressions. Ikuto folded his arms across his chest and watched in amusement as the realisation spread across his sister's face. Utau's jaw was slackening, her knuckles whitening, her head shaking oh-so slightly as she strode over to the charts on the table and said;

"A bearing south… It cannot be…"

"Ya mean..." Kukai's voice was unusually small and slow, the gears visibly ticking in his head as he struggled to keep up with the sibling's train of thought. Ikuto and Utau were on a wavelength of entirely their own and so far it seemed that neither had realised that they'd left their cohorts trailing uselessly in the dust behind them - that the unique and inexplicable sort of harmony their own thoughts shared was utterly lost to those outside their bloodline. It only dawned upon them as Kukai uttered, frowning to himself; "Ya mean they've actually… They've actually given us somewhere to sail? Whoever's sent this on has actually told us where they are?"

At this the siblings simply looked back at him with that twinkle in their eyes. The poor man almost choked.

"Nah!" Kukai burst in disbelief, almost tripping over himself again as he scampered over to get a good look at the scroll still in Utau's hand. "You've gotta be joking!" he said, torn clean between jubilance and terror. "Kazuomi's rat must 'ave some balls on 'em! How far's it out? Not much trouble from His Maj'sty's navy boys down south lately - ya think the bastard's hidin' out there?"

"We cannot say…" Utau murmured, biting absently on the edge of her lip and critically looking over the sea charts on the desk before them, but it was undeniable that there was an excitement about them now - a charge of energy and optimism so contagious that the three of them were beginning to look quite conspiratorial as they handed maps and scrolls and the very beginnings of half-cooked schemes about themselves, wrapped up in every detail, hanging on the Captain's every word as he started to chart their journey south until, at last, Amu stepped between them, exclaiming all of a sudden;

"You can't be serious?" Amu cried. Silence fell at once. Ikuto and Utau had been whispering hurriedly amongst themselves, but now they stopped, struck to silence as some sort of ferocious disbelief crept into the rosette's tone. And damn right too, Amu thought! Her face was pale. Her stomach was dropping. She felt her heart sickeningly skip a beat inside her chest and, as she cast a dangerous look in Ikuto's direction, she was almost delighted to see him at a loss for words. She cast him her most scathing look;

"You're not going, are you?" Amu spat. "You're not going to sail blindly off into the blue after the call of one of Kazuomi's men, are you?"

A pause followed her sudden outburst and, again, the hesitance on Ikuto's face was reward enough. He opened his mouth - fumbled desperately in his brain for some sort of flawless response - but he found he could only close it again. In fact, he must have known that her alarm was valid, she thought, for he didn't even protest when his sister cut across him.

"Not one of Kazuomi's men, Amu." Utau said quickly, leaping to her brother's rescue. Somehow she remained unfazed by the blaze of fiery gold - her resolve untouched by the heat of the former princess' wrath as she beckoned Amu over and pointed to the line of the coast where the Kingdom of Seiyo dipped down to the south; "Kazuomi's rat, Amu. It's here - this town out of sight from the Royal Navy. They do not dock there. They do not so much as gather provisions here. Not anymore. Not since Kazuomi's men near-burned the place to the ground a decade ago. They've been quite poor ever since, but still…" Utau paused, some old excitement rekindling across her features as she stared down at that little point on the chart. "It is fitting." she said; "Truly fitting that he would have a betrayer stationed there."

And, before Amu could so much as get another word in, Utau threw the message with the pink seal down unto the desk and faced her brother;

"It's reliable." she declared in a tone that seemed to leave absolutely no room for argument - as though it were set in stone; in the wash of the current, immovable and steadfast; as though it were laid out in the very stars themselves and all their course already placed before their feet. Utau snatched up the portion of sea charts which would plot their course towards the west - towards the very nation they had fled from - and nodded at the note upon the desk. "And, at the very least, it is compelling. We'd better get moving." she told them. "I shall speak with our navigator. And I'll send the parrot with tidings to our mystery host."

Quite simply, Amu remained dumbfounded. "U-Utau!" she spluttered. "B-But we-we want to avoid the mainland! We can't return to Seiyo! Not now! Not after Ikuto and Kukai-!"

"Amu."

The princess stopped dead. Utau's tone was as chill as a winter frost; as piercing as a new-hewn blade and when Amu finally faced her - when she finally met those eyes, alight and relentless and glimmering with some newfound determination… Well, there was just something there. There was something swirling about those lilac depths that leapt above all else, yet somehow it seemed restrained, subtle even, but, whatever it was, Amu suddenly felt struck by the distinct impression that Utau was holding back - that there was more to her sudden persistence than there first appeared. And, what was more, Amu thought that Ikuto had seen it too, for she saw his brow furrow in confusion or curiosity - whichever she could not tell.

And it utterly stumped her.

But, in the meantime, Utau remained unwavering and as iron-willed as ever;

"We make for Seiyo."

And, apparently, that was that. Amu, effectively silenced, could do little more than splutter uselessly as the blonde, barely staggering under such a hefty column of papers and scrolls, turned with a flick of her pigtails and made off towards the door. "Kukai!" Utau barked over her shoulder, her pigtails trailing behind her as she spun upon her heel. "Fetch Daichi! We set our course!"

"Y-Yes, ma'am…" Kukai followed after her meekly, looking like a startled puppy with its tail between his legs as he trailed after her. The cabin door shut with an almighty 'bang!' behind them and their footsteps echoed throughout the corridors long after they were out of sight and so now Amu stood, feeling as though she'd been cast out to sea and left drifting uselessly in their wake, blinking, shaking her head uselessly in the quiet of the cabin. To her left, she heard Ikuto shift. When she turned, she saw him gathering up the discarded sea charts which Utau had left behind. His head was down, his shoulders squared. Amu just knew that he was bracing himself - preparing his pride for the onslaught that was soon to come from this fiery little woman before him. And Amu supposed that perhaps he was right to remain wary about her. Really, the only reason she had not already unleashed her wrath upon him was because she was still too bewildered to get her thoughts together.

But it was not long before the quiet stretched too far. Finally, apparently unable to stand it any longer, Ikuto dumped the useless charts on a nearby shelf and sighed aloud. "We'd better trust Utau for now." He said in a tone that left no room for compromise and Amu was so taken aback that she couldn't find the words to respond. His eyes were upon her now - she could feel it. She could feel his gaze, intent, yet soft and cautious on the back of her neck and when she faced him she saw that there was a reluctance in his gaze. He was treading lightly, she guessed; tip-toeing around the uncomfortable silence, just waiting for her to explode; to shriek; to march over there and with all her might bellow at his stupidity, for surely even he could understand that to follow such a call back to the country would be a rash, reckless move beyond belief…

"What if it's a trap?"

Amu's voice was small and abrupt, but Ikuto heard it all the same. He regarded her with an unreadable expression as she muttered;

"What if it's like the last time..?" Amu turned to him, her voice but a breath in the empty cabin, her eyes wide and desperate as she wondered aloud; "Ikuto, we've done this all before. To venture ashore in search of Kazuomi's grandson was wild enough, but this…" she swallowed; "This is something I can't abide."

And when Amu met his gaze - when she truly stood to face him and locked upon those starry depths in a such a domineering grasp that he could not look away - Ikuto truly saw the ferocity of the blaze behind her golden stare and, despite himself, he felt himself falter. Hell hath no fury, it was said, and for a moment he wondered if he'd ever seen such wild outrage in a woman's eyes.

"Amu-"

"This is something I cannot abide!" the princess snapped - a burst of wrath, a cry of passion, her vision blurring as she shook her pink head and hollered; "You utterly, UTTERLY RECKLESS, FOOLISH, EXASPERATING MAN!" And, red in the face, she hollered; "How can you be so BLIND? HOW can you risk yourself so thoughtlessly for him? Has he not damned you ENOUGH?"

Amu's voice as it echoed off the empty cabin fell piercing upon Ikuto's ears. His heart clenched. A wash of guilt overcame him as he watched her eyes grow glassy, for he couldn't deny that her worries were probably well-deserved and, as it was, he could feel that very same trepidation coursing throughout his veins as he cast his eyes toward their destination - now marked clearly on the maps beside him… But it was not Amu's fear. It was not her terror. No, his fear was thrilling. His fear was tingling and heart-pumping and with every beat he felt the adrenaline wash like a roaring tide within his blood and so, though he understood her caution in every sense of the word… He knew he had already made up his mind. He knew his mind and he knew his desire just as he knew that, somehow, the sea was swiftly moving him unto his proper course.

And so Ikuto knew that his will was to remain or else all would be for naught.

"Amu," Ikuto began, firm, yet gentle; patient and reassuring, yet strong and stable and before Amu had even had a chance to clear her head she found herself in a tight embrace, enveloped in a warm and unyielding hold and staring into depths of deepest blue. Subconsciously, her cheeks were growing pink - an unattractive, blotchy mix of thrill and fury and exhaustion - but Ikuto did not mention it. His hand was at her cheek, his fingers rough against her skin. He sighed.

"You know," he said slowly, as if he were carefully considering how to continue; "it's always flattering to know you care so much."

At this Amu growled lowly and tried quite uselessly to break free, but his grip was strong and suddenly his face grew serious. A shadow seemed to pass across his features - something almost regretful came to light in that expression and she knew then at least that he understood. It was as if he could just see it. It was like visions and flashbacks were passing quick and vivid before his eyes until he could almost convince himself that he was really there - back in that unforgiving, freezing cell, leaning through the bars, gazing up at the moon and expecting it to be his last. It was as though he had delved headfirst into the depths of her mind and read her worries like an open book… But, then again, that was always the way around him. Ikuto just had a knack for it, she supposed. He had a gift - he could see her anxieties written bare across her face; he could tell when her heart was light and when it was low; he could sense her trepidation. It was as if he had a second sense that allowed him access to her innermost thought at any given time… And Amu could not deny that she felt some comfort in that fact. After all, she had spent her entire life hidden behind a royal façade. To bear her heart upon her sleeve for him - and only him - was something of a grand, oh-so exciting privilege.

But, at the same time, Ikuto had a knack for hiding his own heart beneath a mask of sorts. And so Amu was instantly gladdened to see the earnesty in his eyes as he came closer towards her, taking her hands between his, leaning down and gazing into frightened eyes until it seemed that it was just the two of them as they were - bare to no one but each other. And so, slowly, Ikuto whispered;

"I promise," Ikuto breathed, gently weaving their fingers together and revelling in the steady beat between their chests; "it won't be like the last time…"

A pause. A shallow sigh. Amu shook her head, but her voice was faltering, her breath unsteady as she mumbled;

"But I-I can't-"

Ikuto squeezed her hand oh-so slightly and at once she fell into silence. The cabin was immersed in quiet. A hush had overcome them. Outside, the waves were gradually growing stronger - as if the very sea itself was waking with the rising sun - and the two of them felt the ship as it slowly rocked beneath their feet, stood together until it appeared as though they were swaying to some silent tune that no other soul could hear or would ever hear, for the time they spent alone together was theirs and theirs alone.

There they stayed for some moments until, eventually, the sound of some sudden uproar from the deck reached them. Utau or Kukai must have revealed their plans to change course, Ikuto thought, for it sounded like a joyous sort of clamour. Cheering he heard and whistling and a rhythmic thudding that might have been the beat of an improvised drum. They were celebrating, so it appeared, and, quite reluctantly, Ikuto loosened his hold (if by just a margin) and allowed Amu a step back.

"We'll trust Utau for now." he said then and, surprisingly, Amu did little more than hum noncommittally, looking defeated. Ikuto frowned. She looked exhausted. "Get some sleep," Ikuto whispered, his thumb oh-so gently caressing the back of her hand. Softly, sweetly, he kissed her forehead. "It doesn't look to be far. We'll likely make landfall by tomorrow evening."

Gold flickered back to blue, instantly more alert, but Amu said nothing. Unconvinced that her worries were reassured, but satisfied with her lack of argument, Ikuto watched with content as she slowly nodded.

"Sure… I guess…" Amu murmured. She averted her gaze to the floor and shook her pink head. "If you say so."

And, before Ikuto could add any more, she slipped her hands from his and turned away. She could not describe the warring within her heart at that moment, for it was the most melancholy, conflicting kind of unease she had ever felt, yet somehow she had, for the moment, been lulled - sent spiralling into a dreamlike sort of compliance brought on by fatigue and defeat and that undeniable, enticing charm that accompanied his every touch, that made her pulse race wildly with every single, simple kiss...

"Sweet dreams, Your Highness."

Ikuto's voice was faint and far away by the time she reached the door, but she heard it all the same.

And, her heart skipping a delightful beat, she bit back an unexpected grin.

"Good day, ruffian."

Amu heard him chuckle as she closed the door behind her and, when she found herself faced with the sight of the empty corridor, she wasn't even surprised to feel herself still smiling. She leant back against the door for a moment or so, breathing deeply, shaking her head and mumbling unintelligibly beneath her breath and trying not to laugh aloud because, in her tired state, she had absolutely no idea how he had managed to cast upon her such a spell of false security…

And then she heard a laugh - a little, girlish giggle resounding from the corner just ahead. Amu almost jumped out of her skin. The woman laughed all the louder.

"Good morning." Souko said, trying with all her might to keep her voice steady as she watched the princess near-hyperventilate in front of her. "I hope I didn't scare you too much," she tittered, moving away from the shadow of her door. Her smile looked exceptionally wide against the thin frame of her face, her cheeks hollow and her skin slack, but her eyes were as bright as little tealights and her cheeks had colour for the first time in days as she stepped into the light. "I heard voices," she said lightly, glancing back only briefly at the Captain's door. "Hard at work?"

Having calmed and scolded herself by now for her humiliating skittishness, Amu couldn't help the stammer that left her lips, though, for the life of her, she did not know why. "O-Oh… Y-Yes, you could say…" And she trailed off pathetically, suddenly feeling very meek and childish, shrinking back into the dim light of the corridor. Her pulse had begun to quicken, her mind racing as it suddenly occurred to her... How much should she think to say? Amu wasn't sure how much Ikuto liked to tell his mother about their latest task, nor how much it would be wise to bring up that man who had made such a living hell out of the Tsukiyomi family's very existence. This woman before her was fragile - she was alive and walking and speaking again, yes, but undeniably flimsy and frail inside. Even here in the slowly gathering light there could be seen the shadows of many marking across her face - faint, yet furiously bold and brazen against the line of her cheek; down the side of her jaw; beneath the pale skin of her collarbone…

In Amu's head, she heard this woman weep woefully out into the night and still she shivered. This ship may have been cleansed, but always it would harbour spirits - remnants; shadows of the past and echoes of it's most unbearable torment.

And so Amu just smiled as politely as she could manage and tried not to let her voice betray her as she nodded quietly. "Yes. It's been a long night." she said. And then, before anything more could be added, she decided to swiftly change the conversation. "Are you alright?" Amu asked. "I-I really should be going to fetch some breakfast before I retire... Would you like to come with me?"

The woman almost looked surprised at this request. Souko chuckled lightly. "Oh no, dear," she sighed, some shadow of a smile beginning to tug at the corners of her lips. "I really couldn't. I just wanted to see the daylight." And she inched closer to the doors at the end of the corridor where the newly-risen run sent intricate ripples across the floor, filtering through the pane of glass and pooling as freshly melted gold beneath their feet, swirling gently as a lazy sandstorm in some far-off corner of the east. Amu watched it swish and sway intrinsically - hypnotically - drawing her in as one in a deep enchantment until-

"It is pleasant to see such sunshine." Souko whispered, her fingers trailing delicately across the glass. "Even if I am only bold enough to watch it behind this pitiful screen."

Instantly Amu felt hit by an enormous sympathy - a pang of remorse striking hard and deep within her chest until she felt almost suffocated, at a loss for words as she looked upon this faded image of a woman fallen from glory. And fallen indeed Souko had. In fact, it seemed as though no day would pass - no sun would rise - without shining light on those scars she had for so long hoped to heal and, even as she stood content in the warmth of the day, the former heiress saw them paint a terrible picture across the pale canvas of her skin. Often she would sit beside the window of her cabin and, though the light fell on her weary form, it always looked as though some ray of sun would pass her by - would manage to pass straight through her figure and fall unto the deck beneath - for she was, for all her strength and unrelenting bravery, a woman marred beyond repair; beautiful, yet opaque; forever a faded flicker of what might once have been.

In that way, Amu thought that sometimes the resemblance between herself and Ikuto was too striking to behold. But she could not dwell on it. She did not wish to dwell upon it. It was almost a relief to hear the woman's voice again, pulling her from her murky thoughts. Before her, Souko was smiling fondly.

"But still…" the older woman breathed. Her eyes fell closed as if in bliss - so tranquil and undisturbed that Amu could have smiled back, for that woman's smile was the warmest sight she had ever seen. "It is nice…"

But then, unexpectedly, the woman stopped. Souko tensed. A chill swept over Amu's spine.

"It is nice… When such dark cloud still gathers on our horizon..."

And, slowly, Amu frowned. Something unpleasant - full of dread - stirred in the pit of her stomach.

"'Dark cloud'..?"

Souko nodded by just a fraction. Something overcame her then - something unsettling; something cold and full of apprehension and Amu saw that her skin was white and her eyes were dark, staring out beyond the window and across the water as though pulled by something she could not see, lurking out of sight, drifting beyond the horizon.

"Yes... " Souko breathed. "For I hold a foreboding in my heart, Your Highness… And all around I fear the darkness still creeps in. I fear the gathering of the storm and the hiss of the sea and somewhere far beyond our sights I fear that there may be one who listens still…"

Silence fell swiftly after that. Souko did not move. She did not speak and Amu did not leave to visit the deck after her meeting with Ikuto's mother. Instead she crept away, sneaking back into the comfort of her own small cabin, and there she lay exhausted, yet sleep never found her, for once again she felt the fear return again - felt chill claw through her veins; the felt the apprehension grip at her chest; felt that shadow creep across her own restless heart… And, even though she in her mind still failed to understand, it was true that the waves were rising; that the sky was darkening; that far away on some uncharted tide where the sun and the moon were bound to different tides there lay in wait a creature beyond comparison - a true behemoth of the deep; a ghostly galleon that prowled the sea and fed on the weak and in it's lengthy life had left countless souls behind to founder in the darkest depths, upturned and thrown from the waters in a blast of smoke and powder, rained down in showers of lead and iron and fire. And so there that ship rocked incessantly upon stormy tides as darkness fell across the world. Dark were the waves and black was the night and in the heart of this sordid ship the Captain paced, his breath a hiss and his boots a-shaking upon the planks of his cabin. He was pacing - always pacing - and always his crew watched with a dreadful caution; a disquiet that they could never shake, for always they lived in fear of their Captain's wrath, flinching as he wheezed;

"Ichinomiya."

His voice was as dreadful as the storm outside; wavering dangerously as the galleon upon the waves and, even as he spoke, the ocean was incessant - battering their hull; spitting at their sails; foaming across the slippery decks.

"He has been sent his doom…" The Captain growled and all about the shady cabin the crew shivered as one. "We must pursue him…"

'Thud, thud, thud!' went his boots on the cabin floor. 'Thud, thud, thud!' and a 'KA-CHANG!' as, quick as a flash, he unearthed his sword - the sleek steel of his cutlass shining as a streak of lightning to rent the desolate cloud;

"The Shining Black..!" the Captain spat; "She survived that day and even now she sails, slipping into the sea fog, evading our very eyes..!"

And truly it did seem as though that ship was but a mist about the waves - a fleeting shadow in the fog, for every time they neared the flighty craft she vanished before their eyes; as ethereal as a wandering spirit; as brief as a shooting star.

But the Captain did not care.

The Captain could not allow it.

But, most of all, the Captain did not understand, for he had heard tall tales of the ruckus caused by the docks that day near-five months passed and, though he had heard it - though he had listened to those whispers, turning ever toward those fragments of rumour that drifted along the breeze; though he had been baffled by it; though he had almost even admired it - he just for the life of him could not comprehend Kazuomi's head. He must have been a madman. He must have been getting senile. He had not, after all these nights of lost sleep, come to any reasonable conclusion as to exactly why that man might have wanted to cause such a scene at Seiyo that day. He had heard that some of his men had been put on trial, but had paid it no heed. His men were not important.

"Per'aps he grew tired o' haulin' about the boy…" the Captain thought idly to himself then, though he knew in truth that it was of no matter. Kazuomi's boy was always worthless, he thought - barely worth his glance - always silent and sombre as a shadow, living in the grey...

But it didn't matter.

All that mattered was the ship - the Shining Black and all its secrets.

And so, amidst the storm - amidst the gathering wind and the wild waves and the almighty, ungodly crack of the furious thunder outside - the Captain growled.

"I'll be seein' you, Ichinomiya…"

And even amidst the gale his voice could still be heard - a hissing, spitting breath as the stormy sea itself;

"I'll be seein' you…"

~.~.~

A/N: Wow, guess what? I'm not dead!

Well, not physically anyway, but I'm so sorry for the wait! I've never left it this long! I hope this makes up for it. I was so stuck for weeks, but a sudden burst of inspiration struck the other day and I ended up spending a three hour long train ride furiously rewriting the entire chapter. I'm so much happier with this version. It's not perfect (blame the train for that one), but it's done and I'll take it. Conquering writer's block is the best thing in existence I swear.

On the plus side though, I'm now officially on winter break for almost four weeks during which I can write to my heart's content, so expect the next update much quicker.

Thank you to those who reviewed my last chapter! I felt a lot better about it after reading your comments. They make my day every time~

Until the next chapter~