The Betrayed Marionette

~.~.~

The downpour was relentless. Never had any of them known a storm to roll over the horizon so swiftly nor with such ferocity, for with every gale, every raindrop, it felt as though the very earth was being shaken to the core. It was as though the world itself was being enshrouded by the dull, grey, drizzly haze - a cage from which they could not escape. Overhead, the clouds over the city only grew thicker, more ominous. Beyond the palace walls, they could hear guards and townspeople yelling over the clamour.

The advisor paced back into the room, somehow too afraid to stand too near the window whilst the storm still raged on behind them. It was as if the weather knew, Kairi thought, as he turned his attention back to his audience whom were all still gathered around the table. At its head, the King's face was cold and grey. His cheeks were hollowed in the dim light, his hands cupped together beneath his chin. His expression was strange - it was somehow placid… Yet his eyes gave him away.

Frustration. Pain. Anger. Grief…

Beside him, his wife looked as though she was trying to keep the tears at bay. Weeks upon weeks it had been since the... 'Incident', and still she looked as gigantic a wreck as ever. She had become prone to bursting out into sobs unexpectedly, sometimes uncontrollably, but for now she appeared to keep herself. Her maid, Yukairi, was at hand to comfort her whenever need be, but the royal couple barely looked at her. The two of them looked as though they had not slept for years. And quite rightly too, Kairi supposed, for never before had such a thing happened throughout the history of the royal line.

Eventually, Kairi pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose and cleared his throat. The atmosphere thickened. The pause before his anticipated speech was as suffocating and heavy as he had ever experienced. He thought for a moment, scrambling about his brain, contemplating how best to word what needed to be said.

Though deep down he knew… There was no easy way to say any of it.

"Your Majesty…"

All eyes that hadn't already done so snapped to meet his gaze. Every man and woman gathered there that day leaned forwards, their attention latched onto him like the ivy that crept up the palace walls. The King swallowed thickly, readying himself for whatever terrible news was to come, for any sympathetic tones from Mr Sanjou of all people would only ever spell disaster. Midori fiddled with the lace of her gown despite her formal façade - an old habit of hers that always resurfaced whenever her nerves were particularly on edge. She choked back a strangled sort of gasp. Hell, even the King's guards were creeping forwards to hear what was to be said - Nagihiko in particular held his breath and looked on with such apprehension that it was a wonder he could keep his composure for so long.

Kairi ignored their piercing stares. "Your Majesties," he began again in a tone that positively dripped with regret - that seemed to bring the weight of the world crashing down on that very room all at once. In an instant, whatever hopes had been left were crushed. The Queen leaned away, closing her eyes, as if to escape from whatever was about to break her heart, but it was futile, feeble, as the man went on;

"I am afraid to inform you that over the past five months we have not found a single trace of this ship known as 'the Shining Black'." the advisor said, first and foremost. "As you are well aware, considerable time and effort has been spent in continuing our search of Seiyo's waters and, in this period of time, enough of Your Majesty's fortune has been depleted in what can only be described as a… Fruitless mission."

At this, Tsumugu's eyes narrowed. For the first time in a long, long time, a fire flared, fierce and ferocious, in his eyes. But it was no use. Kairi no longer felt fear at the notion of his King's wrath… There were some things, he conceded, that had to be said. And it was his job to say them whether the King liked it or not. He continued, unperturbed;

"It would be safe to assume, sir, that the pirates responsible have either abandoned ship or are a far more tactical, flighty crew than we could ever have imagined. However," he shook his head solemnly; "we have no evidence, my liege. We have no clue. We have no word. For all the might of Your Majesty's Royal Navy… We have nothing…"

In the background, Midori had buried her face into a handkerchief. It seemed that this was one of those times - one of those occasions when her anguish simply could not be contained anymore; when her heart was further rent beyond redemption and all hope vanishing as smoke into the sky. Any mention nowadays of her runaway daughter would cause such a commotion within her heart, but even now the King paid her no heed. Tsumugu lowered his gaze, his clasped fists tightening until his knuckles shone white in the dim light. The clouds were growing steadily thicker outside and through the grand windows the first flickers of lightning could be seen streaking across the horizon, sparkling between the albastar towers and turrets of the capital city.

But Kairi was not finished.

"Your Majesty," he began, somewhat tentatively. The King met his eyes once more. The advisor exhaled, his expression hardening. "As hard as it may be for you… I must say - in my own professional opinion, sir - that I am not sure there is much we can do for her now."

A silence met his statement. Outside, the first, rolling claps of thunder were starting to rumble in the distance. Kairi swallowed;

"I believe that the time may have come for you to consider naming your youngest daughter as your new heiress."

And, perfectly in time with the spark of outrage that lit up the King's face, a tremendous bolt of lightning and a roar of thunder rent the sky.

Tsumugu was quiet for a moment, apparently ticking the suggestion over in his brain. "Name… Name Ami… Our heiress…" he whispered faintly, his breath raspy and face pale. And, eventually, he growled; "Name Ami our heiress?"

Kairi opened his mouth to defend himself, for he knew the first warning signs of the King's rage perhaps better than anyone else… Save, of course, for his wife who grasped his arm firmly and choked;

"Dear-!"

"Simply… Give up hope?" Tsumugu gasped, brushing off his wife with a cold shrug and boring his eyes into the man across the room. "We entrusted our kingdom to her… Our lives' work - our family's legacy..! Everything… Everything we entrusted to her - to Amu… That is not something, sir, that can so easily be taken away, nor given to another!" And he shook his head, slumping back into his ornate chair, his ire slowly dampening. He seemed torn between wrath and despair - between hatred and grief - alternating back and forth and back and forth at opposite ends of the spectrum. "And likewise," the King whispered, his voice finally wavering, thick with heartache; "I cannot just let go of my daughter…"

All other guests were respectfully silent. Kairi hung his head low, bowed in reverence for his King, in recognition of his anguish. Truly their country had mourned with them in those last five months, but Tsumugu was still breathing out, unaware of himself;

"Amu… Amu is our… I can't just… I can't… Not Amu..."

Before His Royal Majesty could publicly break down in front of his audience, Kairi quickly interjected, trying to sound as sympathetic as he possibly could; "I understand. I understand, sir, how difficult - how heart-wrenching - this entire ordeal has been for you. My, there are still black flags flying in the streets of this dear city, for this betrayal is something the likes of which we have never seen before."

The King raised an eyebrow. "'Betrayal'?"

"But of course." Kairi responded. "It is unjust. And this is a situation which must be dealt with - if not now, then someday when we happen to chance upon those sails soaring black into the sky - when we finally spot that white diamond shining amongst the clouds once more-"

Tsumugu expression was hardening. He sat up in his chair and regarded his closest advisor with such a piercing look that every man present felt scalded. "Sanjou." He said. "What are you saying?"

The dark look of a vengeful King was not to be taken lightly, so all the old stories said, but Kairi was remarkably unfazed. And, though Tsumugu stood now, as bold and terrible as the oncoming storm outside, the advisor barely flinched under his gaze.

"I am sorry to have to say this, Your Majesty," he said coolly; "but the fact of the matter is that your daughter is now a traitor - a criminal. She is a pirate of her own choosing that, by law, shall deserve to be put to justice like any other. Amu Hinamori - by your guard's own accounts, no less - made that decision of her own free will that day at the docks… Should she ever return to us, she will pay the penalty for her crimes. In other words, should she return…" And his glasses glinted dangerously in the flash of the electric fury outside; "I am afraid there will be nothing you can do to protect her, sire."

At this point, Tsumugu's maelstrom of anger and torment was so great that he could not find the words to speak. He stood, his hands braced upon the table, looking about ready to unleash a relentless tirade upon the younger man, but yet words failed him. It was a nightmare beyond his wildest dreams. It was a fate so desperate and futile from which he could not escape. To his left, his wife was beside herself. Her small shoulders were beginning to shake again. At the sound of her cries, something menacing flashed across his face. When he spoke, his voice was so low and dangerous that, for a moment, Kairi's firm features actually faltered.

"No."

"Your Majesty-"

"No, Sanjou!" the King boomed and every person present suddenly found themselves chilled to the core. The rain seemed to close in around the palace; a frost crept across the table; the wind appeared to scream like anguished souls snatched off the streets and doomed to the depths of the storm. "To begin with," he growled; "I understand you, sir. I understand why you ask us to hand our kingdom and empire over to Ami. Therefore, Ami shall temporarily be named as our heiress until such time that our true successor is found and, of course, the young lady will be treated as such, however I fail to believe that my daughter would become such a notorious breed of criminal willingly!"

"I'm sorry, Your Majesty, but I must insist-"

But Kairi's pleas were to no avail and he was silenced by the tumultuous slam of the King's fist. "There has to be reason!" he burst, hardly caring how many candles were toppled beneath the force of his fury. He breathed heavily, dizzily, shaking his head; "She must have gone with them for a reason… There must have been a reason…"

And he repeated the words over and over and over again like a mantra until they were so well-engraved in his mind that no force on earth could shake them. The advisor tried to fight the urge to shake his head. Their company - other confidants and advisors and nobles alike - were torn in two. Truly the heiress' motives had been perplexing. Rumours had flown as flocks on the wind, travelling from town to town, growing more intrinsic and extraordinary with every rendition of this newest tale. The public were truly enthralled. They were captured - ensnared as if by invisible rope - and it was from such enchantment that retellings were being spun like thread, spreading rapidly across this desperate nation… But, despite all of Kairi's best efforts, they could not be silenced and so even the King himself remembered then;

"Perhaps Amu was threatened," Tsumugu went on, placing his hands together and wracking his brain for some sort of suggestion - for some plausible legend that had reached the palace walls from only God knew where. "I cannot help but feel it - that she would not have done this! That perhaps she was forced back aboard that ship by some power that we-"

But the words all of a sudden died on his lips, cut off by another;

"I have to disagree, Your Majesty."

Instantly, the chill to the room returned, only this time it was tenfold. This time it was no mere frost - no mere gasp of cold air. No… This time it was as thick and solid and oh-so palpable as the ice of a dark, unforgiving winter. All heads turned, all voices hushed, fearful to raise their breath above a whisper. The King's eyes rose from his own clenched fists and travelled to the end of the table.

There, at the very furthest seat, half-enshrouded in shadow, sat the Commander. Beneath the darkness - beneath the gloom of the storm and the fall of his fringe - Tadase's eyes gleamed. Yet there was nothing in that ruby gaze - no anger; no anguish… No… He was unreadable. He was numb. He had given little indication until now that his mind had even been present this whole time. Kairi was thoroughly unnerved, if not concerned. This normally respectable man slumped in his seat (the permanent scar in his side was said to give him grief from time to time, they'd heard), leaning back casually despite the presence of royalty in the room. And then, finally, he exhaled harshly;

"I was there that day," Tadase spat, though it seemed to Kairi that his bark lacked bite; "I was there that day she chose their life instead of ours. I cannot believe her… I cannot believe that she would go against her own country; against her own empire; her own parents..!" And he gripped his familiar staff until the gem atop it's hilt dug painfully into the skin of his palms. "I don't know what they did to her… But I cannot believe her."

There was a pause then, but nobody dared interrupt. Tadase looked up, his face falling into what little light remained, his expression scorned.

"Your daughter has deeply disappointed me, Your Majesty."

A light gasp left Midori's lips and effectively brought the King back to life. Suddenly looking positively enraged, he opened his mouth to speak, but before he could so much as breathe, Tadase had risen from his seat. He gripped his staff firmly in his hand, twirling it in his grasp and glancing towards the doorway, making it clear enough that he intended to make his leave early.

"If it is your wish to continue searching for her, Your Majesty, then I cannot stop you." he said. "If it is your wish, I shall gladly leave our navy to their duty. I will not bring the ships back in. My word, I shall gladly accompany them if I must… But that is not because I wish to find her." And, finally, he directed his glance firmly at the King, their eyes locked in a silent battle. However, it looked as though Tadase was winning. His glare was burning and deathly. Tsumugu looked too stunned to move. "No, sir. If I rejoin the search party, then it is not for your daughter. But know this… I will find the Shining Black. And I will have Tsukiyomi and any other God-damned buccaneer on that ship hang for taking her away from us and poisoning her as they did."

And, with that, Tadase took the responding silence as a welcome cue to make his leave. He headed for the doors, turning on his heel and tapping his staff loudly on the tiled floor as he went. But, just when he had one foot at the doorway, he paused. Suddenly, he sounded wearier than any had ever heard him.

"As much as we may not like it, we have to accept that Amu is now one of them…" he said quietly. "And, as you understand, I have no intention of calling myself her fiancé any longer."

The Commander's words hung in the air like smoke from a candle long after he had left the room. In the uncertain pause that followed, the roar of the weather took over once more. Eventually, Kairi cleared his throat awkwardly, though no one made a move to speak again.

'Oh…' the King thought desperately, staring out at the dismal scene that had overcome the city. 'Whenever will this storm cease?' And Tsumugu sighed beneath his breath, his eyes still firmly fixed upon the sordid sky;

"Oh, Amu… Where in the world are you now..?"

~.~.~

It was said once, before it passed into proverb;

'Revenge is an act of passion; vengeance of justice.'

Yes… So it was told - so it was echoed in the hearts of many a vengeful man, but it could not be said which held truer this night. It could not be said which struck truer in the souls of those who held that saying dear - who clung to it with every fibre of their being; who held it close to their chests; who had already wandered so far down the road to ruin that they cared not for the cries of their own conscience, that they kept their heads down heedless to the visions of peril that their cause foretold, oblivious to that line between passion and justice until all distinction faded as a ripple on the water - until it became but a blur, until light and dark both blended into one and all around the world grew distant and hazy under the influence of their own warring hearts.

And now that haze lingered as a chill, winter frost, clutching at the fabric of this forlorn nation in a death grip so unyielding that it grew harder with every passing day to draw the line - to firmly set a line in the sand between the two extremes; between justice and revenge and all that lurked in the grey space in-between, for at this point in time the two were but a befuddling blur that lingered over the walls of the palace. It gathered in the heads and hearts of once great men - of citizens and Commanders alike. It pooled in all those hard-to-reach, ungoverned places that thrived after nightfall - in the dells and the alleys and all those grotty little taverns that none would ever think to check… And it spread. It crept across this dampened earth until this nation grew sombre and dull in the dusk once more…

But more relevant - more pressing and suited to this darkest night - was a saying far more well-known…

'There is no smoke without fire.'

And so as smoke the ship materialised in the bay that night, eerie and haunting as the shadow of some phantom that stalked the seas - as those spectres of ships long sunk that sailors feared, for their presence had become an omen of terrible things to come. They ferried men drowned at sea to their doom, it was said. They summoned sea monsters from the darkest of depths to take down ships on a whim, it was also told. They were crewed by damned, departed souls doomed to sail the seven seas forevermore - the roar of the wind their cries; the chill of the fog their deathly breath.

But, whilst such things could not have existed, many people said - whilst such things were surely just the fears of fickle folk, too wrapped up in their own superstitions to see the sun breaking through the fog - this ship… This ship was truly a thing of myth, for it's likeness had not been seen by any who had not been befallen by some great misfortune. Not a man aboard had been spared that streak of misery in their lives that would have kept any regular human being laying awake at night, writhing and sweating and struggling out against the force of their own infernal demons.

Yes, this ship was a legend in itself. And it sat beyond the docks here tonight, in the bay of this darkened town in the north of Seiyo, and even under such heavy shadow it's form was darker than the fabric of night. Not a star twinkled overhead. Not a sliver of moon shone across the water. It was perfect and without such fire they would not have had reason to appear that night - to creep from obscurity enshrouded in smoke and shadow as they reentered the world of the living.

The Captain of the Shining Black surveyed his crew as the anchor was dropped, falling with a calamitous splash, but in such gloom he could not see the ripples on the water. He could barely see past their single lantern hanging beside the gangplank. Not a single light shone from the hamlet he knew lay in the darkness before them, crawling it's way up the steep hillsides, and all was veiled under cover of nightfall. He regarded the silence warily, his brows furrowed tight in focus.

"I reckon we make a neat li'l team going out like this!"

The chipper voice of his crewmate jolted Ikuto out of his daze. He bit back a humourless laugh, for Kukai could not have chosen a more inappropriate tone for such a gloomy, risky endeavour. He sighed lightly, shaking his blue head; "Remind me why I allowed you to follow us tonight, Kukai."

Beside him, the rusty-haired pirate just laughed gleefully, as if his Captain had said something remarkably hilarious, and lit up a second lantern. It's glow was weak and pitiful, but it made his eyes glow like a forest canopy under sunlight. "Aw, don't be like that, Cap'n!" Kukai said. "Can't just let you an' Utau go off by yourselves. 'Sides…" And his face took on an unusually serious expression so out of place on such a happy-go-lucky man as himself that Ikuto looked at him questioningly. "You oughtta watch your back, knowing who we're dealin' with…"

That much was true, he reasoned. Ikuto pursed his lips together, humming in acknowledgement and watched with little interest as his crew lowered a rowboat into the water, almost vanishing from sight if not for the glow of Kukai's light. The only thing visible at such a distance was the fleeting flash of purest white above their heads as the diamond sails were quickly reefed. It was a shame the same could not be done for the symbol on their transom, for any sight of a diamond upon black would surely send any onlooker into a frenzy, but it was the best they could do and, when all was done, Ikuto turned to face the men still on the deck, an unusual sort of apprehension swirling in the pit of his stomach.

"I'm not sure how long we expect to be on-shore," he said, mostly to himself. "If we're not back within the next two hours, then you are free to flee if you so wish."

There was a murmur of discontent at that, for none of these men would have wished to abandon yet another Captain on some shadowy dock, but at that moment a figure appeared amongst them, shaking her head and draping the hood of her cloak over her pigtails.

"I shouldn't be so dramatic," Utau said, her chin held high. "This place looks like a ghost town. If there is trouble, I'm sure even these idiots will hear it from the bay."

Ikuto laughed lightly. His little sister had such a mouth on her that it was hard to believe, but he said nothing of it, merely gestured to the gangplank and stood by as Utau made her way down the ladder of rope and line. "Ladies first."

He heard her snort as she dropped down into the rowboat and bit back a smirk. He and Kukai exchanged amused glances. "Shouldn't antagonise her," Kukai muttered. "She nearly threw me overboard this mornin'…"

That sounded likely, Ikuto thought, chuckling to himself as he secured the cutlass and variety of pistols strapped beneath his dark cloak. There shouldn't have been any need for gunfire that night, but none of them could take any chances. He threw down a small vial of spare powder to Kukai as the cheerful pirate clambered down into the boat, relishing in the cool of the breeze after such a hot and humid day. And then, just as he was about to follow them himself… He sensed the hooded figure stood behind him. Heavily, Ikuto sighed.

"No," he said, fighting to keep a firm façade, but there was a bright sparkle of humour dancing in his deep blue eyes as he turned and leaned into the figure's shadowed face. "Not you."

And, quick as a flash, he whipped the hood off the figure's head and smirked in triumph as pastel pink glowed soft and striking beneath the lantern light. Amu frowned, narrowing her pretty golden eyes, and puffed out her cheeks in indignation. "Ikuto!" she spluttered, flushing so adorably that the Captain found it hard to contain himself. "There's no need to be like that! Maybe if you'd stop being so stubborn and hear me out-!"

"Did you really think you were going to get past me, Amu?" Ikuto sighed, folding his arms across his chest. "We'd be sitting in the same boat."

Amu's blush darkened considerably. "S-So?"

"Stealth was never your strong point now, was it?"

Ikuto chuckled, utterly unable to help himself as her small, balled fist swung feebly towards him. He caught it easily, though he knew deep down that this feisty little lady could have easily clobbered him if she wished. Amu was frowning again now, biting on the edge of those rosy lips in frustration so temptingly that for a moment Ikuto was half-tempted to take her by the chin and kiss them until they were even rosier - until all trace of worry was wiped from her mind and her blush darker than a newly-bloomed rosebud. She had no idea what that simple little action did to him. It was perhaps one of the most enticing things he'd ever known. Though, of course, most things she did entranced him. Every time she laughed aloud or took his hand or smiled so sweetly it was as if he was blind to all else. Every time he so much as caught a flash of pink, honey gold would inevitably consume his thoughts; every time she pursed her lips his mind would reel, rocking back as a vessel on turbulent seas as he recalled the soft touch of his lips on hers; every time he heard that rustle of skirts, saw the slight sway of her hips as she walked, he wanted to sweep her from her feet and wrap her tight in his arms beneath the haze of some starlit night, for it had been then, stood together on the deck of the Shining Black beneath the moon, that he had first known - that he had first realised…

On the main deck now, here in the present, Amu shifted slightly beneath his grasp and brought him firmly back to earth. He freed her fist from his, trailing his fingers across her hand as he went, delighting in the barely-suppressed shiver that ran down her spine. Ikuto shook his head, trying in vain to rid his head of all irrelevant, self-indulgent thoughts, and said firmly;

"You're not going."

Instantly Amu's expression soured. The petite former Princess folded her arms, looking critically towards him in that way that could make even a man such as he feel small and insignificant if she tried hard enough. It was the sort of look that reminded each and every one of them just what a woman of class she was - that this flighty thing stood here before them was truly cut from higher calibre. It was a look that Ikuto had seen on the façades of countless nobles many times before… And, though he couldn't say that that so-called 'royal façade' suited her entirely, there was no question that she used it well. Amu tutted.

"You couldn't stop me if you tried."

Ikuto raised an eyebrow. His eyes were alight and dancing. It was a silent challenge if ever he'd heard one - one that riled his senses and pounded his heart; heated his blood; one that turned on whatever animalistic instincts had been laying dormant in the depths of his soul for all these years - but the crew were gathering around them now and Kukai and Utau were waiting expectantly in the boat below and still that diamond shone as a beacon in the pressing darkness. Ikuto had no time to argue with the woman… But, if she was willing to test the waters…

"No?" Ikuto began, his tone positively dripping with amusement; "Your Highness…" (And Amu bristled, for he knew what a chord that name now struck.) "I was under the impression that you would want to please your Captain…"

Amu tutted again, but she could not fight the thrill that jolted throughout her chest as she found herself fixed beneath a dazzling stare - her glare faltering as his voice swept through her very being, rich and smooth, yet oh-so playful that it was hard to stand her ground as he paced, circling her as a cat might stalk its prey. Ikuto's gaze was raking teasingly up and down her form. His eyes were flashing in brilliant bursts of cobalt in the dark, as bright as a midnight star, as piercing as a passing comet. Ikuto smirked upon seeing any argument die upon her lips, enraptured as she was. She shivered and his satisfaction only increased, for he could tell just by the glaze of her eyes and the flush of her cheeks that it had not been caused by the cold. No, it was not unpleasant. On the contrary, Amu felt her own lips twitch of their own accord as that contagious mischief touched her heart. In fact, the former heiress was so preoccupied by averting her gaze in a vain attempt to keep it hidden that she barely noticed the pirate lean in, his breath cool and slight and sensual against her cheek;

"Speechless?"

Oh… He just knew what he did to her… She was sure of it! When Amu looked up again Ikuto was smirking roguishly - so unrestrained and alight with deviance…

And suddenly, even though the smirk was familiar - even though it was the very same smirk that she had seen a thousand times before; even though those eyes and lips and all those playful quips were so, so familiar - he seemed to her and all the men around them a changed individual, for it was clearer now in moments such as these that whatever shadow had been lifted. Whatever darkness that had plagued this young man's very being had vanished and dissipated as a parting fog - swept out into the night upon Kazuomi's departure, falling like a weight from the spirits of every man aboard - so that he now appeared to all before him a man finally stepping out of the emptiness from whence he had dwelt these past ten years. No longer was Ikuto the shadow that Amu had met that very first day aboard the Shining Black - a scrawny, hunched, jaded figure slinking into the shadow, praying for obscurity and giving into the oncoming darkness and allowing his soul to be so consumed by the gloom as he went… No. Now he walked with pride. Now there was a fire burning fast and furious within his blood. Now he walked with poise and wore the blue hat from his father's past and now finally he could breathe, for, though his chains may still have lingered - though one or two last, flimsy ties might always weigh him down in memory - they no longer bound his spirit. Now he had power - a purpose; a crew; a new horizon somewhere beyond the blue of the sea…

Ikuto was a shadow who had against all odds finally begun to cross that line into the realm of the living and so Amu watched now as that man - so different, yet still somehow just the same - grinned devilishly down at her and, though she had grown to love such humour, she was reminded bitterly of all that had once bound him to the darkness in the first place. Unaware, Ikuto brushed past her, apparently satisfied with her silence and convinced he had won, making to head for the gangplank and join his small group out to the shore when Amu took his arm. He stopped immediately. Her grip was as firm and unyielding as a deadly vice as he tried to turn - as he tried to leave her behind to wait in the darkness just as his stepfather had done all those months ago… And perhaps Ikuto realised that then because he stopped and waited long enough for her to say;

"He has my Humpty Lock, Ikuto." Amu said. A silence met her utterance. She swallowed, her voice low, yet cold as ice and very quickly every man before her recalled that they were looking upon a Princess - a once-future heir of empires - as she said; "If you are going to find him, you cannot do it without me."

There was a pause, heavy and thick as the grey cloud above as Ikuto considered this. But Amu had nothing to fear, for her words had rang truer than she knew. There was a moment or so of awkward tension. The crew flickered their gaze back and forth between the two; Kukai was popping his head up over the gangway and watching curiously; beneath them the gentle waters of the ebbing tide lapped loudly against the solid hull as the seconds ticked by…

But, eventually, Ikuto sighed.

"Stay close to me."

Amu was almost too apprehensive to feel that flicker of warmth in her chest at those words. Gladly she dropped down into the boat and, the form of the Shining Black receding into the darkness behind them, they fled as mist into the night, guided by their single lantern, slipping towards the quays. Amu was in awe. This was one little portside settlement she had never seen before and it was in reality quite disheartening to see such a quaint little hamlet in such a state of sorry disrepair. Most of the quays were made of wood and rotted away lifelessly into the murky water. Along the seafront the shops were boarded and barred. Weeds and tangled, thorny bushes lined the road towards the cliffs to the point where their path was almost precarious. But still they flew soundlessly from their little boat; through the empty streets and deserted tracks and followed a little cobbled road up to the house on the headland. Unseen and unhindered they were, for this settlement had become in recent years as desolate and dwindling as any they'd ever seen. Rumour had it that the inhabitants had begun to flee - making off into the night for fear of phantom ships prowling their waters, but none had been spotted by the royal navy on their last trip to the north nor did these non-existent vessels seem solid and tangible as they swept across the sea. And so the people fled in fear and presented the Shining Black with their greatest opportunity in months - the chance to come ashore at last and pursue the call that had led them to this mansion standing stark and foreboding against the clouds. The group stopped once they were fully in sight of it, panting slightly after the steep incline. Ikuto felt Amu shiver beside him. He brushed against her side, his free hand trailing gently across hers, and he felt her still. He could have smirked. She was probably blushing.

"Well," Kukai whispered. He shrugged lightly, but the hush in his voice betrayed any air of confidence he'd hoped to present. "At least someone's home."

He was right. In a single window a light was glowing brighter and clearer the higher they climbed. The mist thinned up here and, as they stood atop the very peak of the headland, they glanced back and saw that all below them was submerged in a thin veil, as if the clouds had begun to descend from the sky and settle on the cold ground.

"Someone's home sure enough," Ikuto murmured. He withdrew from Amu's side, ignoring the lack of warmth, and strode up to the mansion. The magnificent gates were open. The gravel crunched cripplingly loud beneath their feet. To their right they heard a fountain trickling somewhere in the grounds, but they could not see it through the thick hedgerow that lined the drive. Ikuto almost hesitated as he found himself already at the doorstep, staring down the impressive arch above the entranceway, surveyed by the cruel eyes of gargoyles looming down from above.

"Whoever's home has awful taste." Utau said faintly behind him. Ikuto could have kissed his little sister for breaking the tension, but he just shook his head and bit back a chuckle. He knocked on the door. They heard its echoes even from outside - behind those doors must have lain an impressive hall to produce such a sound, he mused. They waited in silence. The air stilled. The mist was creeping in, the air growing thicker and thicker the longer they waited until the gates began to disappear from view, caging them in, suffocating their senses…

And then, faintly, they heard footsteps.

Each and every one of them stood alert and cautious, wide-eyed and apprehensive, as an almighty creak split the air and the doors, with great difficulty, inched open. Behind them stood a man - a young man dressed in a dark coat lined with ruffles; with inquisitive, cyan eyes as brilliant as a rippling stream and a stiff upper lip that could put any pirate firmly in his place.

There was a moment of awkward silence - of nail-biting tension as he surveyed the scene before him. When he finally spoke, his voice was so deceivingly placid that, for a moment, they truly began to doubt whether they should have ventured here at all.

"Good evening." The young man said. "I have been expecting you, Captain."

Ikuto felt all eyes lay upon him. He straightened, scrutinising their host with narrowed eyes. "Sir Ichinomiya?" was all he said; "Sir Sei Ichinomiya?"

There was a pause. For a moment, Ikuto wondered whether or not they had found the right mansion - or even the right town! - for that young man was staring at them curiously, his brows knitted together, his expression unreadable, yet his very being seemed to radiate with tension. It was in his eyes; it was in his frame; it was in the way he inched ever-closer to the darkness of his home as he judged the men upon his doorstep with all the caution of a rabbit at the mouth of its burrow.

But, just as the pirates were about to press further - as the wind blew across the driveway and the distant ticking of an ancient clock reached them from somewhere inside the home - the young man turned up his nose.

"You are looking for my father." The man said. Ikuto opened his mouth, looking about ready to demand the man in question appear before him right there and then when the man interjected. "Sei Ichinomiya is dead." He said bluntly. "My name is Hikaru Ichinomiya. Do come inside."

And, befuddled and perplexed, there was little any of the pirates could do other than watch dumbly as Hikaru Ichinomiya turned, sinking back into the shadows of his home and bade them follow. Ikuto glanced only fleetingly behind him, sharing stern looks with each member of his company. It was a pointed look and each of them understood it clearly. He would allow them to wait - to spare themselves and avoid following him into peril if they so wished… Yet not a single one of them rose to the offer. Resolutely, they all followed in line like ducklings and allowed the doors of the foreboding mansion to shut behind them. Kukai flinched as the heavy metal of the latch snapped shut. Amu covered her mouth and bit back a gasp and Ikuto slowed his pace only slightly so that he could stand beside her, lulling her into silence with his presence, letting her heat warm his nervous heart. They stood close together as they entered the grand hall.

Their host was but a darkened figure - a spectre of the shadows flitting and sweeping about his home as he led them towards a staircase so grand and steeply rising that it felt as though they were ascending through the sky itself and into some otherworldly realm above as they found themselves amidst the cavernous ceiling. This place was like a cathedral. It was like some old abbey or castle (they could not quite decide which, for both were equally marvellous in appearance) had been overtaken and allowed to blend into the background of this spectacular abode. Gothic and shadowy twisted pillars rose above their heads; tangled, thorny roses wrought from stone overshadowed every archway; gargoyles still peeked from the most peculiar of places and they were sure that, had there been light enough to shine upon this dismal night, they would have been greeted by the sight of paintings and mosaics breathtaking enough to reside in the palace itself. As they left the hall behind them and were taken through many, echoing hallways - up several flights of spiral staircases and towards the upper floors - Hikaru glanced back at them;

"I apologise for the lack of service, but my maids are running several errands." He said. "They are kept very busy. I cannot offer you more." And, as they came to a stop at the end of yet another corridor, he unearthed a bronze key from his coat pocket and unlocked the door before them. "Please, do make yourself at home in my study."

Beyond the door was indeed a study as he had said, they realised, for they saw looming bookcases and antiques locked behind glass in the darkened room ahead. Hikaru placed the small lamp he'd been carrying on the main desk (an ancient, antique piece which put the pirates in mind of Kazuomi's own ornate desk back on the deck of the Shining Black). Ikuto and his companions filed into the room, standing uneasily in the quiet, waiting for their host to turn to them. Until, that is-

"Nah, I wouldn't worry," Kukai piped up breezily, ignoring the pointed looks from his companions. "'Sides - nice an' warm in here! You won't believe how chilly the fog rolls in this time of night!"

Behind him, Amu was shaking her head weakly. Utau looked murderous. Ikuto shot Kukai a withering sort of frown, but, though he felt about ready to stride all the way over to their idiot crewmate and smack him upside the head, Hikaru just hummed in acknowledgement and regarded them with a curious look.

"That is true. Though I'm sure the likes of yourselves must become accustomed to sneaking about in the dead of night. " he murmured. "Really, Captain, I cannot say I blame you for calling at such a late hour, however I must say that I never expected a pirate to knock. A buccan's visit is normally accompanied by more than a flicker of gunfire."

"Call it but a hint of courtesy, young Lord." Ikuto replied. And then after a moment he smirked with amusement; "It's far less conspicuous, you understand."

"I understand." Hikaru said. "Though the darkness doesn't seem to suit you, Tsukiyomi. I trust that is my grandfather's doing?" Ikuto's mouth dropped agape against his will. He took a steadying breath, frowned over at the young man, but Hikaru was faster, cutting in quicker than he could speak; "It is his fault that your spirit has been confined to the shadows for so long, is it not?" Hikaru's gaze was piercing, so scrutinising and all-knowing that he really had no need to elaborate any further, for all of them then could see the resemblance. Each and every guest that night could see as plain as day the shadow of that thunderous brow; of those sharp cheekbones; that hard-lined jaw and firm-shut mouth… And, above all, that gaze was unmistakeable. "And yet here you are still. A pirate. Captain of the Shining Black in place of my grandfather… But for how long, Tsukiyomi?"

Their Captain seemed to consider this for a moment. A tension had settled upon the room so stifling and palpable that Amu felt short of breath, her lungs aching, her gaze darting cautiously to the window every now and then as if desperate for air - as though she might need to fly to the glass and claw for a gasp of pure, night air at any moment. But her attention was distracted, for, finally, Ikuto swallowed;

"I'm surprised that you don't attempt to shoot me on the spot."

At this Amu heard Utau step closer. Her eyes were wide with warning, her knuckles white as she so-subtly exchanged fierce looks with her brother. But, as it turned out, if Utau had thought that he was inviting for something, she was thoroughly mistaken.

"The Shining Black is not your sin." the young Ichinomiya replied and, with that, it seemed that the spell was broken - that the tension, so palpable and suffocating, snapped; that the air had suddenly lifted and the breeze blew strong again through the crack in the windowpane. "I am aware that Kazuomi Ichinomiya brought you into this pit of despair against your own will. I understand that you would not be here except for him and, on his behalf, for he surely would do no such thing…" And, to their surprise, he bowed his blond head in reverence towards the Captain. "I profoundly apologise." Quite simply, Ikuto (not to mention the other pirates) could do little else but stare in awe at their host. Hikaru did not mention it, nor did he seem at all bothered as he went on; "Though I believe I have heard of you also. To you I must apologise further." Over in the corner, Utau blinked. She cocked her head to the side, eyeing him curiously. "Utau Tsukiyomi. Quartermaster of the Shining Black."

Utau frowned. "You may know my name," she began slowly; "But how could you possibly-?"

"Oh? Oh, yes. I must say, it was refreshing to learn of your new role aboard my grandfather's ship... That's a nice development." Hikaru said somewhat wistfully. "I've heard your previous Captain never cared much for any hierarchy below himself. Well, aside from his cohorts, that is."

In the background, Kukai snorted and earned himself another round of stern faces. "Oh, come on," he said. "That's the biggest understatement I ever heard!"

Utau opened her mouth then, some sort of scalding insult on the tip of her tongue, no doubt, when their host turned, closing the door loudly behind them and shutting out the draught. "My grandfather sickens me." he stated with all the calm and composure of one merely stating the weather. So chilling was his façade - so out of place and unnerving - that Ikuto decided swiftly to get the discussion moving.

"You are not Kazuomi's son then?" Ikuto said, but it wasn't really a question. More to clear the air the statement passed through his lips and instantly the young man sighed deeply, moving to light a second candle on a little table nearby.

"My father died years ago, you see, Captain." Hikaru began. "Of natural causes, you understand, and so here I live in this dreadful, deserted town, for I realise that if it were to sit idle here… Well… I'm sure I can think of one who could find use for it."

These words fell cold and callous upon their ears. A couple of the pirates shivered, but Ikuto frowned, folding his arms across his chest. "He would not come back here." he said, though he didn't sound at all convinced. "Your grandfather could not stay on land…"

A dry laugh left Hikaru's lips. "No," he whispered. "But it would be incredibly convenient. How else would I ever greet him again? How else might I finally repay my grandfather for all he has done in this world? An easy end to a despicable man it would be, no? That, after all, is why you are here. Isn't it, Captain?"

Amu's gaze darted towards Ikuto perhaps too quickly, for he caught the flash of her nervous eyes in the lantern light as wide and bright as golden saucers. But, to her surprise, Ikuto did not say anything. Not at first, at least. No… Ikuto folded his arms, hummed lightly in acknowledgement - casually, as if they were discussing something utterly trivial… Then he smirked.

"And I take it you'd care to help us?"

Hikaru's reply was immediate. "But of course, Captain."

"You're… Well informed, no?" Ikuto mused. "I'm sure you could be of some use to us. You did say you were expecting us, after all."

"I think you'll find what I have to offer here tonight quite agreeable." their host replied. "If you'd care to listen carefully, that is."

By this point in the conversation, the two of them were sharing wickedly conspiratorial expressions. Ikuto's eyes were burning - alight with the fiery fuel that had driven him on this newest venture of theirs. Even Amu was leaning forward; even Kukai was beginning to grin from ear-to-ear, his teeth bared as fangs, their minds all running as one as they pictured that demon in their minds - as they played out within their heads the just and swift retribution that they would cast upon that man who had forsaken all their lives as though they had been nothing but dust beneath his boots. Yes, spirits were riled in the study that night and Hikaru's words were teasing - tempting! - playing like music upon their ears, carrying off their imaginations into the blue beyond…

But then, finally, Utau spoke up, her voice cutting harshly through the quiet; "Are you not concerned?" she began. Her voice was grounding. Her voice was harsh. It seemed to take them one by one and drag them all back to the firm, solid feel of earth beneath their feet as she snapped; "Are you not concerned that you are helping the very people who wish to harm your grandfather?"

Perhaps quite foolishly, none of her companions had been thinking this. None of them had thought to question this now glaringly obvious catch in their request. The pirates slunk back, their eager curiosity quelled as a flame to water, snuffed out and replaced by an uneasy sort of apprehension, for, honestly, what grandson would comply with such a request? What sense did it make for this young man to so willingly lead these buccan men to his relative's door?

But then the atmosphere changed. Then the clouds seemed to roll overhead thicker, gloomier, for the shadows deepened. The candle flickered. Hikaru's featured grew as grey and stony as the weathered old cliffs on which this mansion sat and something so cold and ruthless and devilish - flashed across his blue eyes so suddenly that, if there had ever been any at all, not one of them now doubted that this young man was related to that most notorious of pirates. Truly, they all thought now, this was the very man who would sell out his own grandfather… And he would be glad for it.

"That is no concern of mine." he said darkly. His breath blew out the candle he had lit only moments ago and now the room was awash with darkness - shadowed and gloomy as the light from the other lamp weakened; chilled as the silver glow from the waning moon drifted through the window, creeping across the floorboards like the mist that still crept upon the cliffside beyond. Hikaru's shadow fell black and empty across it as he paced towards them. "My grandfather is a traitor." he whispered. "He betrayed his King and country and, above all else, he dragged such innocents into his vile deeds as to be damned to hell for all eternity." Around him, all others were silent, for, even if they knew what to say, they could not speak - could barely breathe - as he inched towards them. "Over the years I have gathered enough information about his deeds to be suitably disgusted. My father would be sick to hear of his deeds. All my father ever received from him was this house - this one mansion out of many! Even his own family he swindled. Even his own son he was too greedy to give a penny. Father's inheritance would have been far greater had that pirate's life savings not 'mysteriously' disappeared before his departure…"

"Life savings?" Kukai - who had up until that point been wracking his brain to try and figure out the disadvantage of inheriting a mansion, of all things - blinked in confusion. "His wealth wasn't pirated?"

There was a pause - a moment of perplexed silence during which Hikaru's deadly demeanour had faded… And then, suddenly looking like any average, young man again, he raised a curious eyebrow.

"'Pirated'?" He repeated. His brows furrowed almost innocently. "My grandfather did not pirate for gold - none save that which would lead him to the Great Treasure, anyway…" - (he paused only to glance at the brilliant flash of gold caught around Amu's neck, the chain of the Dumpty Key just peeking out from the clasp of her cloak.) - "No, his wealth was well worked for in his day, I can assure you."

Ikuto hummed lightly in thought, his entire being beginning to glow in shades of white and cobalt as he stepped into the light of the moon, pacing absently about the study. "I had heard that he was a… 'Bounty hunter' of sorts." he mused. "He used to hang pirates by the dozen, if I'm right?" And he looked to the young lord for confirmation… But he received none. No, in fact, the silence was so absolute that it was quite unnerving.

Hikaru's eyes were as wide as plates, his jaw hanging slack in what was possibly the most comical depiction of disbelief that any of them had ever seen. When he spoke, his words were slow, his mouth barely catching up to his brain;

"You… You people have no idea…"

Something about that statement seemed to make Amu's insides curl with dread. She and Kukai exchanged a clueless glance. Ikuto raised an eyebrow and motioned for Hikaru to continue, but he did not. Finally, looking thoroughly offended, Utau placed her hands firmly on her hips and held her head up high. "What's that supposed to mean?"

Bemused, Hikaru opened his mouth. Then closed it again. In the background, sat behind them on one of the antique shelves, a clock was ticking noisily. One second. Then two. Three, four… Up to thirty seconds passed by before it seemed he found the will to speak again. And, when he did, his words… Well, they held more weight than any other spoken that night.

"My grandfather…" Hikaru said slowly; "My grandfather was one of the King's advisors."

Amu felt struck to the core. Behind them the ancient clock ticked on obnoxiously, but the Princess could pay it no attention, for her mind was reeling, her body numb, her breath dying shallow in her throat until her chest began to burn and cry beneath the weight of such a sudden notion. Around her, the pirates were stunned to silence. Though pale, Ikuto shot her a cautious look and inched towards her, but, although his presence was enough to calm her - though his very being had her grounded enough to remember how to breathe - it was not enough. For the first time it was not enough to calm the whirlwind in her heart, nor the torrent of her thoughts, nor the ringing of her ears as her mind replayed those simple words over and over and over again.

And, whilst none of them had yet regained the sense to speak, Hikaru continued;

"Kazuomi faked his own death to flee without suspicion and took all his wealth before it could be lost… Or," he drily noted; "before it could be passed on to my father."

Quite simply, Amu's skin was crawling. She felt sick. Her stomach was curling and twisting as though possessed by some slimy creature of the deep, for the very thought - the very implication! - that such a man had been so close to her all this time; so interwoven into her very life before she had even so much as heard of his name or his ship or even acknowledged that very existence of a pirate's way of life… It made her thoroughly unsettled. Far more unsettled than she'd ever been…

"He betrayed my father…" Amu managed and, despite the faintness of her heart, there was enough venom - enough spite - in her voice to make up for her shock tenfold. "He betrayed him and became a pirate…"

"How… How did we not know this..?" Kukai exclaimed, sounding very faint and awestruck in her ears. "Ikuto! Utau! Did the two of ya never know this?"

Judging by their silences, Amu presumed they didn't. As it was she could hear Ikuto's breath beside her. It sounded shallow and struggled, much like her own.

"My grandfather was always a very secretive man." Hikaru replied as though it answered all of their questions. "Even my grandmother knew little of his work outside these walls. He did not live here often, you understand. I am not surprised that you and the rest of the crew were not aware of this." And he shrugged. "That being said, even I was aware of some wrongdoing at the time. I was quite young, barely five years of age, but I remember as clear as day laying awake at night to the sound of scuffling from my grandfather's study. I saw my grandfather a week or so after his supposed death rifling through his study, stealing as many scrolls as he could lay his dirty hands on and vanishing off into the night." Hikaru sighed, shaking his head as if in exasperation. "What a fool that man was. He barely noticed the paper's he'd left beneath the desk. His greedy hands could only carry so much, it seemed, but it was quite fortunate in the end. There on those papers were written the first few details of his grand plan. He had scrawled tales of treasure on them like a madman… Tales of treasure and wealth beyond desire and, throughout it all, just one word… 'Fortune'... 'Fortune, Fortune, Fortune'..."

The pirates all shivered as one. In their minds there resurfaced the image of a ghostly galleon - a haunting, majestic vessel that sailed beside the greatest leviathans of the very deep itself - but whether Hikaru knew of the significance or not he did not tell. Rather, he just continued, rubbing his chin thoughtfully - a rather odd action, one that seemed in complete contrast to his years - and shook his head.

"It wasn't hard to work it out." he said. "Not when all his worldly thought seemed bent on this fabled wealth of riches. Nor even did it startle me to hear of the most daring maritime robbery of the century - of the plucky theft of His Majesty's favoured warship which I believe even now still sails about these waters…" And then he laughed - mirthless and sour, as though the very words would taint his tongue. "I believe she anchors here tonight, does she not?"

And, visibly, Ikuto stiffened. Behind him, Amu slunk back into the shadows almost guiltily, though she knew she held no fault, and in the mind of each and every soul in that room that night there shone the glow of white upon darkest sails - of sail and cloth and impeccable diamonds fluttering above the breeze; stamped onto her stern; immortalising the Shining Black as the most nefarious frigate to ever cruise these peaceful waters.

"I'm sure she was magnificent back in her day," Utau mumbled from the back of the room. Her eyes were glazed - steeped deep in wistful thought. "I'm sure she was spectacular before Kazuomi tore out her heart… Before he gutted her stern..." And, at the young lord's questioning look, she added; "The Shining Black's stern was modified." she said. "Her Captain's cabin Kazuomi split into further compartments - four cabins and a short passageway he added… Well… He added them when he wanted to 'keep an eye on us'..."

Amu frowned, utterly lost for all of a few seconds before it suddenly hit her. Immediately she felt her blood begin to boil. When she chanced a glance at Ikuto his face was unreadable, but the tension in his jawline gave him away. He and Utau and their dear, desolate mother had been caged like prisoners before the Captain's door… All so he could strengthen his grip on them. Suddenly very disgusted, Amu did not know whether she'd be able to face sleeping in those tiny cabin spaces any more.

"Yes," Hikaru sighed. "Indeed."

And, before anything more could be said, he effectively ended the conversation. The young Lord turned on his heel, marching towards the bookcase behind him. A fine old case it was - made with the most elaborate polished and carved mahogany the pirates had ever seen. It's front was encased in glass, it's contents obscured by many delicate patterns cut so intricately across the panes that it was a work of art in itself. The Lord unearthed a key from the lining of his vest and when he turned the key in it's padlocked place the entire thing clicked so audibly that its echoes could be heard in the surrounding corridors outside.

"This," Hikaru said, hauling with great difficulty a leather tome into his hands - the biggest tome that any of them had ever seen; leather-packed and singed at the edges and every inch covered in dust; "This is what I believe might be of use to you."

When he placed it onto the the ancient desk the entire thing shook right through to the floorboards. An almighty plume of dust burst up into the buccan's faces, tickling their noses, dirtying their faces. One by one they all inched round, gathered in the feeble light of the lantern and awaited with baited breath as their host batted away the lingering dirt from their vision. Ikuto looked up into the young man's eyes. He didn't even need to ask. Hikaru's lips tugged oh-so slightly, but his voice was steady - as grave and deadly as a man well beyond his years - as he said;

"This," Hikaru began; "is possibly the key to tracking down my grandfather."

Unaware of herself, Amu's jaw dropped. Ikuto's eyes narrowed - shining with barely suppressed amazement, but he said nothing. He took a deep breath - slow and steady as though bracing himself for some immense tide he could not foresee. Hikaru laughed, but it was mirthless and chilling and it sent shivers down the spine of every buccan present.

"That is why you are here - here of all places, sneaking through in the dead of night like rats condemned to the confines of the gutter… Is it not?" No one answered. Hikaru went on. "I must say… It's really quite beautiful, isn't it?"

He ran his hand across the fine leather tome and a pale streak of dust clung to the fabric of his sleeve, sweeping away the filth, laying bare carefully gold-picked lettering for all to see, though Amu could not decipher it, for it was an old, archaic form of their language that she had never yet studied. Her knowledge of this country's tongue went back only so far - as far as her father saw fit to have her taught - but Ikuto's brows furrowed in confusion. He craned his head, mouthing breathless words to himself.

"Hic sunt dracones…"

A breath of wind. An astonished murmur. Outside the gentle 'pitter-patter, pitter-patter' of water droplets tapped like hesitant fingers against the glass as the first of the clouds began to give up the fight and released the first torrent of rainfall upon the world. Back inside, gathered around the desk, lulled by the warmth of the candlelight, Ikuto frowned up at the young Lord and shook his head.

"'Here be dragons'?"

And, immediately, something seemed to click in Amu's mind. It leapt all of a sudden from some dusty, disused part of her brain. It rang with nostalgia. It shone in various tones of bronze and gold and glittered in the lantern light, for that inscription sprung to light in far more memories than she had thought possible. Every map; every globe; every blurred line and hazy edge was wrought from that very phrase - that phrase that lined the boundaries of human knowledge; of worldly exploration; of every path untraveled and every stone unturned, for it's inscription foreshadowed all manner of unseen things to come… And it had sparked her imagination ever since she could remember - ever since she had first looked at those age-old maps in her mother's study, her young eyes wide and glittering, yearning for far-off places beyond all fathomable thought.

"Dragons," Hikaru began slowly, gradually drawing Amu's mind back to the present - to the darkness of the study and the thickness of dust and the hush that came before the storm; "were traditionally benevolent. But this dragon…" He said, running his fingers along the spine, creasing his young brow and reaching for the corner of the leather tome. "This dragon that you pirates seek - this… This monster… He shall not be so merciful once you find him."

A sudden silence fell at this. Amu stepped back from the table before she could stop herself. It felt as though something heavy had dropped in the pit of her stomach - as though the full weight of those words had only now hit home, yet it was not true. Countless nights she had spent in fear. Countless moons she had lain awake and apprehensive, for every dark cloud upon the horizon shifted - every squall became a portent of that beast's appearance. Every chill wind was his breath; every rough wave the outstretch of his distant ire; every night was yet another night in which he could sneak upon them under cover of darkness just as he had left that fateful night on the outskirts of Seiyo…

Opposite the desk, Kukai stepped into the firelight, his warm eyes glowing in the flicker of fire, yet they were shadowed. They were overcast - they mirrored Amu's own anxiety… And, somehow, that was comforting even as he spoke with that uneasy waver in his voice;

"So," he trod hesitantly; "how d'you reckon this'll help us find him?" he asked. "What's this? A rulebook? Did he plot out his journey before he up an' left ya? Kazuomi was never one ta stick to a plan, ya see."

"No," Hikaru agreed. "No, he did not. But, as you shall see, these are the very documents my grandfather left behind the night he deserted us… I kept them. I hid them - just in case. Just in case he ever thought to return… But he did not. And all the more lucky for you, Captain." And then the young Lord paused. He untied the thin leather strap bound to the book's side, flipped it onto it's spine and then the thing fell open, landing heavily enough to make the lantern leap, and they saw with great astonishment that the inside was hollow - at least two hundred pages carved clean from the bind! - and there, in the very middle, lay several scrolls all sealed in wax, tied securely together, brown and brittle and so fragile-looking that the men were afraid to so much as breathe on them in case the things should decide to disintegrate and fade away into nothingness before their very eyes. Hikaru paid their looks of awe no heed. Cooly, calmly, he went on;

"My grandfather had prepared, as it turns out, several safehouses - hideouts, if you will - in which to pass the days should anything work out… Unfavourably for him. Or, perhaps, as a location to conceal whatever riches he stole on the road to this unlawful life he now leads. Those life savings I spoke of, for example."

"Could he not have blown it on the ship?" Kukai asked then. "I mean, remodelling a full-blown ship ain't cheap."

But Hikaru just shrugged. "We don't know." he said. "But I presume the King paid my grandfather fairly well, to put it simply."

Ikuto shook his head, his very body deflating with a terrific sigh. "I knew he hunted pirates once… But this is…"

"Dastardly, isn't it?" Hikaru tutted. He carefully scooped out the scrolls - five or six of them, there were - and laid them gently onto the desk. He with much difficulty closed the heavy tome and slid it away from them. "I dread to think what he might be doing at this very moment, but if you want my guess, Captain, I'd like to think…"

"You'd think that, if Kazuomi went anywhere…" Ikuto cut in. "He'd go here." And he picked up one of the scrolls, picked at the age-old wax about it's middle and unfurled the thing onto the table. A faded map of the world lay before them - musty and flimsy and lavishly riddled with illustrations of the very dragons that ate away at the unknown ends of the world… But with one difference.

Utau's eyes grew wide as saucers. She half-shoved Kukai out of the way to lean in closer, her fingertip tracing the outline of the various swirls and points that inscribed the map, for no real lettering was to be seen. Drawings and intricate, detailed patterns there were at every edge, but letters? No. No letters - just writings of Kazuomi's own invention made up of symbols that none had ever seen before.

"I assume you can read this?" she said urgently, her lilac eyes flashing fiercely as she looked up at their host. "This writing here!" - and she pointed to whatever markings stood for 'Seiyo' as an example - "You must know how to translate it!"

Hikaru opened his mouth to answer, but Ikuto was faster. The Captain scoffed. His expression was fiendish. A smirk was playing about his lips - his teeth bared and eyes burning and suddenly Amu thought she understood, for suddenly she felt a wash of excitement course throughout her veins, for this was it! This was their chance! She found herself grinning mischievously back at him as he scrutinised the puzzling map;

"Oh, we don't need to," Ikuto said. "We just need to find out where these safehouses lie. We've no time to translate a map of the world - we just need to know how these places were marked. What can you tell us about them?"

"Well, it's like you said, Captain." Hikaru replied. "If he would go anywhere - a man of that greed - it would be to one of these. He describes them as 'store-houses'. In simpler terms - they are all isles and uninhabited lands described as treasure troves by mythical pirates of old. Not that there is any truth in such legends, of course, but my grandfather seemed to view them as the perfect shelters for both himself and any ill-gotten gains of his. They are marked with a specific series of symbols. I deciphered many of my grandfather's codes, though they appear to have evolved over the years." And he placed his finger atop one such pattern of markings on a cluster of islands to the south. "It is not a 'language', per se. He merely replaces a letter of the King's phonetic alphabet with a different symbol of his own invention. This here, for example - the symbol resembling the sun - that's a 'T'."

"We'll need a copy of your translations." Utau cut in. "Immediately."

"But of course," the young lord said. "You shall be taking all of these documents with you tonight." And, at his guest's questioning stares, he added, his lips curling in a sudden disdain; "I do not wish for them to remain in this house."

And, suddenly, it seemed as though that was that. The small group shared equally eager and cautious looks as the young man turned away from them, fetching one or two minor pieces of parchment from a nearby bureau and began to arrange the various materials as he saw fit and all the while Amu found her gaze ever-drawn to that astounding map - to the patterns and the tiny waves and the many dragons that sailed across every path; across every current; that cruised beneath every unknown wave and every new horizon. And, suddenly, her heart was filled with hope. With apprehension. With a rush of adrenaline so intoxicating that she for a moment forgot all else - forgot the danger and the peril and the fact that she stood here now, a once-noble woman enshrouded in the dark, scrubbed by sea-salt and swept from her feet by the lure of the waves beyond.

But then, just as all finally seemed to fall into place - just when five long months waiting seemed to finally be drawn to a close - Ikuto dropped a deadly deal-breaker. He had been stood to the side, curiously watching Hikaru's every move, his eyes scrutinising his tiny form as a hawk eyes up its kill, when the words slipped from his lips - tense and cautious, uttered out into the silence;

"How do we know you aren't relaying information to him?"

Those words fell heavy and sudden as the gathering rain beyond those walls. There was a pause. Amu felt her heartbeat falter. Utau frowned. Across the desk, Hikaru didn't so much as blink, but Ikuto went on, firmer now;

"How do we know that you despise you grandfather as much as you say you do?" He demanded. "How do we know you are serious?"

Hikaru's eyes widened by the tiniest fraction. Suddenly that previous, nail-biting tension had returned and, for the first time, Amu truly feared the possibility of such a thing, for, should Ikuto's misgivings hold true, she realised now that it would be the most disastrous blow to all their endeavours! Her golden eyes darted to the young Lord. And then to Ikuto. And back and forth they went endlessly in the gloom….

Until, of a sudden, Hikaru smirked.

"Oh…" Hikaru said. Amu shivered. "Believe me, if I had any inkling to my grandfather's whereabouts…"

And, drily, Hikaru laughed;

"He'd be dead long before you got your hands on him, Tsukiyomi."

Truly, Amu thought then as that uneasy silence settled across the study, this was Kazuomi Ichinomiya's grandson.

And with that, Hikaru snapped up the remaining scrolls as quick as a flash, tore the map from their grasp and thrust them all into the Captain's hands. Ikuto stumbled, at least two pieces of parchment threatening to flutter from his grip, but he held them fast and before any of them could question their host further they found themselves frog-marched from the study, distributing their gains between them and finally facing the steadily-growing downpour that drenched still the dismal earth around them. The fog was growing only thicker. The darkness was deepening. Even as the hours ticked by and the night drew to its fateful close the grey gloom crept in until all the world about them was veiled and chilled as a winter's frost. And, lifting up their sodden cloaks and shielding themselves uselessly against the icy rain, the little band of pirates stood as shadows beneath the front porch, ready to flee with the fading light and return to the shadows from whence they came.

And yet, as they made to leave - as Ikuto glanced up through his dampened fringe and cast their host one last critical look - they heard the young lord's voice echo but one last time;

"Good luck to you, Captain."

~.~.~

A/N: Wow, I'm back! Sorry about the wait! I was so swamped with assignments that I'd have had to pull all-nighters to get any decent work done on chapters. In fact I pretty much did just to perfect this draft, so please blame anything that doesn't read well on that! Plus I've had to majorly rework the beginning of this fic last minute which has thrown me off a little (a lot!), but I'm determined to get a lot more done! I'll try and update regularly again like the last fic, but I may be a little slower over the next month or so.

This was quite a long one to get us started. There was an awful lot there, but this plotline doesn't necessarily need a slow burn start like the last one, so I hope it wasn't too much in one go. Plus I think I need some practice when it comes to writing about Ikuto as the Captain. It's so much harder to try and get him in-character when he has authority?

Well, I hope you enjoyed! This should have given you a little flavour of the direction this story is headed (I hope..! It's very late and I'm starting to ramble), so let me know what you think!

Until the next chapter~!