The Betrayed Marionette

~.~.~

Ikuto was not used to feeling so solitary even when he was surrounded. It was strange in a way, for he had spent the majority of his adult life (not to mention the better - or worse, depending on which way you looked at it - parts of his childhood) feeling like a single candle stood unaccompanied in the darkness; drifting; fettering and stuttering pathetically as the smoky shadow of his stepfather fell upon him and choked out what little ignition the poor boy's heart had left in it until even he, as one amongst three hundred souls cast adrift, felt for all the world that the very universe itself - that the sea and the stars and all who sailed within it - had deserted him.

Of course, it was all really very simple. Ikuto, for all the loneliness he had endured over the past twenty-three years, caught alone in strife and ongoing struggle within his own personal hell, had realised perhaps some time ago now that it was not until Her Highness entered his life that he had begun to oh-so tentatively think to cast himself out into the bright white of the world of the living. It was not until she, present day and night, had become so unexpectedly and inexplicably intertwined with his every thought - his very being - that he had begun to understand just what it was to be part of a benevolent crew or, indeed, of any binding union of souls, and so it was now that he found himself suddenly torn from her side that, for the first time in a long, long time, the captain of the Shining Black found himself alone in the dark once again.

Miserably he had ruminated on their… 'disagreement' for perhaps far longer than he cared to admit. Perhaps they were both in the wrong, the stubborn, obstinate part of his brain protested - that being the only half-assed conclusion that Ikuto could come up with nowadays even if he cared to admit that he still suffered that gnawing sense of guilt, eating away at the pit of his stomach, whenever she entered his mind. In truth, he wasn't quite sure how to go about things (reparations had never been much his forté), but what he did know was that he couldn't take this extended silence any longer. It was killing him. It yanked at his chest and gripped at his heart until he found himself lying awake at night, tossing and turning on the uncomfortable straw futon that apparently passed as a bed in these parts, just looking up in longing at the stars through the slats of his window and praying that he could sail but a few days into the past and take back all that he had said, for he understood now that it was not what was mirrored in the depths of his own heart.

It had been nearly a week now. Near enough one week long they had tarried on this isle under the watchful eye and good grace of the Warrior's hospitality. Every morning the mist seemed to thin but a little each day Ikuto rose and gratefully looked out in wonder over the tops of the trees steeped in fog, nestled in the folds of the mountain, and, for but a few fleeting moments, each morning saw him lucky enough to spot their diamond sail fluttering lightly above the crow's nest as it danced in the breeze, just discernible as the white shroud swept in from across the sea to engulf this isle and all who lived there. And, as for the Shining Black herself, her lines were near fully rigged. Her torn sails had been repaired. It would be but a day or so now until Ikuto could find no further excuse to linger here any longer and, if only for the sake of his own sanity, he knew that he couldn't well cope with any further extensions to Amu's long-lasting grudge against him any longer. Especially if they were to set sail to the ends of the earth together on the hunt for his stepfather. It was bad luck, wasn't it? To embark on a voyage deep-seated with ill will? Maybe. Ikuto had never been one for superstition, but this did not settle at all well with him and so it was on their fifth morning that Ikuto rose with the rest of his crew and, dead set on catching her before she disappeared off with the village women, near ran down the path to the communal compound where he knew the ladies sat and took an early breakfast together.

He was in luck - perhaps even more than he knew - for Amu was easily spotted as she left the feasting hall and, knowing full well that if he didn't make the most of this opportunity he would regret it for the remainder of their voyage, Ikuto beelined towards her.

After all, he had plans for her this morning.

As ever, Amu was adorned with the silken robes that seemed to be customary amongst her new social circle - a sunrise red kimono that glittered and shimmered with every step she took; with every flutter of the breeze and each steady rise and fall of the chest. The embroidery was inlaid with gold. The kind of gold that rippled like sunbeams on the bed of a babbling stream; that made her honey-coloured eyes ignite like the strike of the rising sun as it peaked above the treetops in the distance, casting all the world in a hazy, golden mesh as it filtered through the fog, obscuring all until Ikuto truly believed that before him stood a creature that had stepped straight out of myth, for she looked to him then as ancient, yet youthful as the fiery heart of the very goddess who had crafted these isles so long ago, so the old tales said. For a moment, all breath left him. Her cheeks were rosy, framed by the occasional lock of pink curls, and, for a fleeting second, Ikuto felt weak at the knees.

Amu took his breath away at the best of times… But this was something else. And he knew then that he had to make things right if he ever wished to rightfully look upon her with such awestruck longing ever again.

"It suits you."

It was perhaps not the way he'd planned to start, but for a moment all breath had really left him. It was, however, more than enough, for that little exclamation sent pink spreading across Amu's cheeks. But still she was silent. And by god she was stubborn even if the quickness of her ire did seem to have died but a fraction.

She was already looking past him, glancing out into the forest where they could faintly hear the voices of the villagers. "What do you want, Ikuto?"

"Meet me back here in half an hour." Ikuto said whilst he still had the chance. "But none of this." And he gestured to her elegant dress, for, though he truly loved the way such fine fabric fell across the curves of her figure, he had other plans for her that day. "I want you in something more comfortable."

At this Amu raised a judgemental brow. "Excuse me?"

Ikuto smirked. "Trust me."

Oh yes, Ikuto thought as he watched her cheeks run rapidly from rosy to red. He had other plans.

~.~.~

Ikuto was not sure what surprised him more: the fact that Amu had decided to join him by the appointed time as desired or the fact that she'd actually gone out of her way to dress for practicality at his wish. In hact, it had to be said thirty minutes later as they ambled through the forest that Amu looked more like an outlaw now than ever before. No doubt Utau had had a hand in this, Ikuto thought, but it didn't dissuade him, nor did it alter the fact that Amu looked quite the part as she trailed behind him along the path, hitching the sleeves of her puffy, oversized blouse and fussily tucking the front into the leather cincher around her waist. Ikuto could hear the swish of her linen skirt brushing against the coarse vegetation that overflowed onto the path and the squish of damp earth underfoot as she wore in her boots. Yes, Ikuto thought as he turned back to observe her, eyeing up her pretty little figure like the cat who'd got the cream, Amu might have been born a princess, but there was no denying she made a convincing pirate.

He hadn't told her where they were headed, nor what plans he had in store for her that day. No, those plans were kept safe within his own head lest she huff and turn haughtily straight back down the path again. Amu hadn't said a word since their first meeting that morning. More like she'd just turned up as requested, arms folded, and let him take the lead. He could tell she was biting her tongue. He hadn't heard so much as a peep out of her - not one. Not even to ask why she was currently being led through the trees just past the crack of dawn without even a pause to sit and take what meagre breakfast Ikuto had wrapped up in leaf and stuffed in the deep pockets of his coat. In fact, Ikuto was beginning to wonder if he would ever get her to speak to him again at all until;

"You're not taking me where my screams won't be heard, are you?"

His heart did a cheerful little flip. Something familiar was creeping its way back into her tone - something playful and full of banter that struck such fond memories within him; that reminded him of stolen night beneath the stars and long, late evening rendezvous outside her cabin door. Perhaps leaving her all to herself had calmed her ire over the last few days, but, whatever the cause, Ikuto praised it.

"Amu…" Ikuto began teasingly. "What do you take me for."

There was a scoff; a crack as Amu waltzed beneath some low branches, but nothing more for a moment or so. "Dare I answer?" Amu muttered, just low enough that he caught it beneath the crying of some far-off birdsong. Still, he remained unperturbed and continued onwards, lazily thwacking away what little overhanging greenery drooped heavy, weighed with morning dew, into their path. The morning was grey and full of drizzle. The sunrise had been smothered. A sea mist was creeping up along the shores and mingling alongside the fog of the cloudy forest. Behind them, the single lonesome mountain peak was headless, for the cloud had gathered so thick and heavy along its sides that they could barely see its shoulders disappearing into the tops of the trees. Yet there was life here still even at this early hour. In the distance, seabirds were crying in coarse, callous voices; in the wake of the downward breeze snippets of song could be heard as the village women ascended the mountain paths to pray beside their springs, their melodious voices carried down to the beach until it seemed that the very trees themselves were whispering and singing to one another as they swayed in the gentle breath of the wind; and, finally, the sand and the pebbles crunched beneath the weight of heavy boots as Ikuto and Amu appeared from the line of the foliage and stepped at once into the dim, yet peaceful dawn.

Amu looked about the beach, ignoring the light chill. She couldn't even see the Shining Black's masts out to sea, though they heard faintly the whistles of the workers who were just beginning to patch up the last of the mighty craft's lingering battle wounds. Ikuto stepped out into the morn, relishing in the open air, and beckoned her over, kicking a few lingering pieces of driftwood out of their way as he found what appeared to him to be a 'prime spot', though for what Amu couldn't tell. Once she was beside him, stepping curiously out into the allocated space, he unsheathed his cutlass.

"Take it."

And he brandished the hilt towards her. Amu raised an eyebrow.

"Excuse me?"

Ikuto chuckled lightly. "Take it." He coaxed, forcibly thrusting the grip into her reluctant hand and taking a second from the sheath at his belt for himself. Whatever wild idea had been making the rounds in the inner workings of that brain of his, Amu had a feeling she was about to find out. Ikuto tried not to let the amusement overcome him as he watched her instinctively grip the heavy blade with both hands. "It has come to my attention," he began cheekily, raising his voice as one who has serious business to attend to; "that you're something of a natural when it comes to weilding a weapon."

That was not was Amu was expecting. She almost grimaced, eyeing the blade warily, feeling self-conscious as she tried to balance its weight whilst he so effortlessly paraded about the beach with his own trusty cutlass. "Who told you that?" She asked. "Whoever it was, they were most certainly lying."

Ikuto took no notice of the edge creeping into her tone. He gave her a particularly knowing look - the kind of look that made her feel she was missing terribly something only he was privy to. "Now don't be so modest, love," he teased. "I heard you took down a Captain of the guard."

Amu's demeanour changed completely. She blinked - once, twice and then a third time before cocking her head in confusion, the absolute picture of puzzlement. "I did what?"

Ikuto did his very best to fight back a grin. "Rhythm." he began, having quite the job to keep his tone steady. "He's the captain of Musashi's guard."

There was a pause - a moment where naught reached them but the faint rustling of the foliage as a gentle breeze steered down from the north, echoing in every dell and hollow amidst the cloudy forest - as Amu fought to put a face to a name in her head. Ikuto watched, unable to hold back a cheeky smirk in amusement as he watched the realisation sink in.

"I did what?" Amu cried, her eyes as wide as golden platters. In fact, she was so taken aback, she almost dropped her cutlass. Aghast and pink in the face, she tried desperately to keep her grip. "B-But-But how was I supposed to know?" She defended desperately. "We were ambushed in the middle of the forest - what was I supposed to do?"

"Make no mistake," Ikuto began, his own blade keen in hand as he eyed up the graceful, dew-dropped tip; "I'm impressed." He said, getting back to the matter at hand. "But I don't doubt there might have been a fair degree of so-called 'beginners' luck' involved."

Sadly, Amu thought that might have been true, but she didn't dwell on it. By this point, Ikuto was way beyond any hope of holding his amusement back. Amu looked away if only to try (and fail) to hide her growing blush.

"You have potential," Ikuto said then; "but tragically no formal teaching. That is where I come in."

Suddenly, Amu understood. The trek to the beach; the comfy clothing; that cunning plan that had been ticking over inside his head for whoever knew how long… Ikuto meant to teach her. Train her. Give her the time to wield a weapon in hand and become a part of its metallic design. In fact, now that she thought about it… It wasn't a bad idea. Particularly when considering their perilous and, frankly, wild intentions. What good would ie do her, after all, to run halfway across the world in pursuit of the enemy only to freeze up at the crucial moment of battle?

Amu understood him now. But there was just one nagging thought that stood in her way.

"What does it matter anyway?" Amu began, unable to keep back that callous drip of venom in her voice. "You clearly don't trust me to handle myself. Don't think I've forgotten!"

Ikuto raised a single brow. "How could I?" He muttered drily. "I've been trying to put things right for the past five days."

"Oh, really?" Amu retorted and, really, Ikuto had to admit that she looked a natural now stalking towards him with the blade in her hand, weighing such heavy metal on a single wrist with such ease even when she was distracted, fuelled by the fury of her temper. "Perhaps I just wanted some peace to myself."

Ikuto let out a withered breath. He glanced up at the sky, still veiled beyond a veil of mist. They were going in circles - it would be dark by the time they'd even started if they carried on like this.

"Look," Ikuto cut in. "You want me to trust that you can protect yourself? Prove it." And in one sweeping motion, Ikuto unsheathed his own blade. "And I promise that from here on out I shall never relegate you to the Shining Black again."

Amu blinked like a doe caught dead in the road on a moonlit night. Her eyes flickered to the blade in his hand, then back to him.

"I'm sorry?"

Blue on gold, Amu felt her stomach flip unexpectedly. Ikuto's gaze was unyielding, piercing as the shine of his sword. As he cast off his coat and abandoned it on the beach, Amu knew he meant business. There was no humour left in his demeanour now. No lilt or laughter. No…

"So..." And he looked her dead in the eye. "Would you like me to trust you?"

Amu's heart thumped desperately beneath her ribcage. God, even after a mere few days of silence the sound of his voice was melodious in her ears, but, more than that, the implications of his words - of the promise of faith and confidence…

No wonder she was in love with this man.

With that thought, Amu lifted her cutlass, her strength renewed;

"Prove it."

Ikuto's lips twitched, his eyes ablaze.

"Challenge accepted."

~.~.~

Amu had to admit, loathe though she was to do so, that Ikuto was in fact an incredible teacher. Patient, strong-willed and, it had to be said, utterly unafraid to push his charge to the limits once he knew she was free and able to do so.

The beach rang loud with the 'clash!' and 'clang!'ing of steel that morning - so much so that Amu thought any passer by might have mistaken this tranquil beach-setting for the inner workings of a forge or the fringes of some lonesome battlefield cast adrift and out to sea. But it mattered not what anyone else thought, for the world was lost to them. The forest was distant; the sea was sound; the rising isle itself but a tiny blot in the corner of her peripheral as Amu fought tirelessly to keep Ikuto's blade from landing against her own. Her wrists ached. The sweat was matting the hair to her face. Her chest was burning - lungs screaming for respite-

'CLANG!'

Yet Amu did not let up. Not even for a second. Before she could even register the shine of steel, Ikuto's blade came crashing down against her own. Amu grasped the hilt 'til her knuckles turned white. The hit had been strong, but Amu's reaction was stronger. Whilst she could not deflect him, her defence was sound enough that the two were locked indefinitely. Close-up and personal, her brows furrowed, knitted in concentration; her stance and strength unyielding, Amu saw the intrigue flash across Ikuto's face when, thankfully, he finally withdrew his weapon.

'Shing!'

The air was rent with the shrill sound of steel, punctuated by their own heavy breaths as at last the two parted for air.

"A strong defence." Ikuto said, eyeing up his hard-working student as she switched hands and flexed her cramping muscles. "You need to work on your parry though."

In her defence, Amu thought that she knew well how to work a decent parry and was in actual fact about to say just that when, quick as a flash, Ikuto whirled his blade before her. "Try again." He said. "Shoulders back. Shift your weight forth…"

He circled her, critiquing her posture perhaps more closely than he meant to, but he was beyond correcting himself at this point. After all, he thought cheekily, he was only human. Amu saw the salaciousness in his eyes. He cheeks flushed.

"You're not concentrating, Amu."

"Neither are you." She muttered grouchily.

A chuckle. A teasing, lingering touch as he corrected her stance;

"Just keeping you on your toes."

And, thankfully, he retreated to what had become his default position before her, his sword in hand. "Ready?"

Amu was more than ready. Ikuto charged, cutlass aloft, but Amu was swift in mind and body. She dodged, praising herself for what would have been the perfect opportunity to take down her opponent from behind had they been in true combat, and prepared herself to deflect the incoming blow that she knew was coming. Ikuto's cutlass came down with a vengeance and, as before, the two were locked in a bitter strife when she drew back her blade, whirling, sending him flying forwards under the momentum of his own swing - a successful parry! She cheered herself on and at the look of surprise on his face Amu almost laughed aloud, but Ikuto was faster. He grabbed at her wrist, pulling her down with him.

"Ikuto!"

There was a 'crash!' and a puff of dust as they landed onto a nearby pile of driftwood wedged up amongst the pebbles. Amu lay across his chest, rising and falling and stuttering as a winded chuckle left his lips. Mirth and humour lit up the deep, dark galaxies within his eyes - indigo blue and as star-speckled as the endless reaches of the clearest night.

Amu puffed out her cheeks, pink and dewy-damp with exertion. "What are you sniggering at, ruffian? How about a 'well done'?"

But Ikuto's lips just spread out even further. He dropped his sword - abandoned it with a clatter against the stones - and just breathed, his arms encircling her against his chest. Amu might have protested had she not at that moment realised that they had over the course of the morning began to fall back into something of familiarity again and, as their eyes locked, Amu seemed to realise with a pang just how much she had longed for it.

There was a lingering silence as tense and as palpable as any that had ever passed between them. Something stirred as their eyes first met. Amu's heart was pounding in that crazy rhythm. Ikuto's chest was beginning to scream beneath the weight of that ever-present 'tug-tug-tug!' that seemed to encompass all when she drew beside him, her fingers grasping tighter at the white of his shirt. Amu's eyes dropped fleetingly to his parted lips, drunken with anticipation when-

"I'm sorry."

It was but a breath. But a whisper on the faint of the breeze. But Ikuto had finally found the sense to say it;

"I'm sorry, Amu."

There was a pause; a pang against her heart. Amu's eyes softened. "Oh, Ikuto, I-"

"I mean it, Amu." Ikuto said, his words so earnest and full of heart that tears were almost brought to her eyes. He ran his hands gently up and down her shoulders, relishing in her comfort as she braced against his chest; "I was blind. I did not see - was far too trapped in my own misgivings. I just… You could've gotten hurt. What if he had been there? Kazuomi? I know what that man can do-"

Amu huffed lightly. "As do I!" She protested, but Ikuto was not done.

"I just- I told you not to follow me-"

"I followed you once before."

Ikuto sat. "And I almost lost you for the worst of it!" His breath was ragged now and Amu could see that familiar red cloud beginning to cloud such incredible eyes. And she thought Ikuto did too because he took a deep breath then and shook his head lightly, bringing his hands to her elbows and sitting, pressing his forehead to hers.

"I am sorry." He said. "It's just that you're… Precious to me. More precious than life. More precious than gold."

For a moment, Ikuto briefly brought his fingertips to her chest, tracing oh-so delicately that space where the Dumpty Key rested so gently against her skin, and when Amu pulled back to look into his face she was certain that there was no more ire to be seen - no more doubt or misgivings - but love, pure and simple. But, even so, Amu still had to say her piece.

"I do not want to be placed on a pedestal, Ikuto." She whispered, taking his hand away from the Key and intertwining their fingers together against her front.

"I cannot help it." Ikuto breathed. "But I will try my best to trust you, Amu. I'll trust your fire. Your spirit…"

'The most beautiful, fiery soul I've ever seen.'

Amu couldn't help the smile that graced her features then nor the tears that sprang against the corners of her eyes, but she hid them dutifully and, hand on heart, swore then to him;

"Understand that we're in this together, Ikuto. From here on out, wheresoever we go, we go together." And she pressed a kiss against his cheek. "Promise?"

Her response was a pull - a swift 'tug-tug!' in every sense as he pulled her towards him, pressing her against his chest so that she could feel the racing of his beating heart. He was kissing her forehead, trailing down towards her cheekbone, cupping her face sweetly with a free hand until Amu felt she might melt in this man's embrace. He whispered against her skin; "I promise-" and so she was sworn utterly to him. Ikuto's lips found hers only momentarily whilst he made up for such a period of isolation, relishing in her warmth; in the feel of her curves amongst his arms. He brought his face to her head, her hair tickling against his cheeks, drinking like a man deprived the sweet, sweet scent of rose and honeysuckle and…

'Lavender?'

Something almost sparked inside his head then - something dark and obscure and perhaps forgotten almost brought forth to the fore of his mind when Amu sat, grinning now from ear-to-ear and red as a rose in its prime. He must have looked peculiar, for she cocked her head and laughed lightly.

"Ikuto?"

He shook his head. "Nothing. "

And so the rest of their time on the beach was spent - parrying and fencing and relishing in sweet, stolen kisses for every milestone made that day and as the sunshine set on the warrior's isle, Amu and Ikuto returned, their hearts warmed and their spirits settled, and yet Amu, glancing out to sea that night, envisioned that though the clouds here grew lighter, there was still a darkness on the horizon, though she did not fear it as before.

~.~.~

It was true. There was a dark spot on the horizon. A blackness. A void. Black sails and a web of rigging and the shadow of some mighty hull fleeting upon the surface of the tumultuous waves as a skater skips upon the surface of the pond or swiftly-flowing stream - as though naught could hinder her for all the world as she cut clean through the roaring waves and, though the rain was fierce and his vision clouded, Tadase could see but only one possibility as they braced against the oncoming tempest:

"The Shining Black!"

The wind ripped the words from his throat, carried away out to sea to echo in the empty space from here to the horizon so much so that he had to scream and holler and cry out to his fellow comrades as the Emerald Line tossed and turned and grew utterly drenched in the rainfall that muffled every step and every cry or whistle. There was a howling caught in the sails, fluttering and fighting as if some invisible creatures in desperation tangled by line and linen. Lightning streaked the sky, accompanied by the roar of thunder and as the sky was rent in two both ships were illuminated - silhouetted against the sky until they came to look as the lingering remembrance of ghostly galleons prowling the sea for unwary sailors; like sunken ships now arisen from the dead at the call of the heavens.

The squall was enclosing - all encompassing - and, as the rain beat down upon the deck, the Commander growled. He stood to attention, marching up and down the companionways, shouting orders at the top of his lungs in the faintest hope that his crew would hear him against the fury of the southern storm. They were turning course. The black-sailed ship was in their sights. They caught fleeting glimpses through the seaspray of their target…

And there was no doubt in Tadase's mind that she was the ship he sought. Not for anything.

His gaze blinded by fury; his body chilled to the bone, Tadase stood upon the forecastle and called for pursuit, his cheeks stinging with the spray, struggling against the brunt of the towering waves, yet his determination was unshakeable - his bravery compared to naught else.

And so it was that the dark ship showed them her broadside. The wind howled. The grey waves rose up far above, stretching high into the sordid sky, clouded and dark as the night and, before any of them knew what was to befall them, Tadase found to his dismay - to his utter dread - that he could do little more than stare in horror, watching dumbly, as that dreaded, deadly wave came down, down down…

And, eventually, as the sea foam settled and the gale died and the last lingering remnants of the ocean squall faded away upon the endless blue of the ocean, the waves lay bare, the cries of his men carried off by the breeze… And, for all his efforts, the Emerald Line and her Commander passed into darkness.

~.~.~

A/N: Okay this feels unfinished but, I just really wanted to move on at this point. I'm low-key excited for the next island folks. Also I've been trying to handle the whole amuto situation. It's wayyy harder than I thought it would be when I planned it.

Formal apologies to Tadase. I love him, but at the moment the ambiguity is necessary.

Til next time~