The Betrayed Marionette

~.~.~

When the Commander returned from the grand capital - when that sleek, silver carriage rolled up towards the Hotori home, tearing along the narrow road through the town and grinding to a halt on the gravel before the face of his family mansion - it was as though a great, irrepressible sense of unease had overcome this seaside town. Yes, when the Commander returned to town that day, it was as though just about everybody knew about it, for for his presence came as a chill frost upon the mansion and all who dwelt there. Servants stopped in their tracks. His escorts marched forth with their heads bowed and lips pursed - walking as clockwork men each falling into line before their master. In the dim light of the hall, Tadase's parents stood, their hands clasped as if in prayer, their eyes wide and worried, but they could say naught, for he brushed them off as easily as the dust on his jacket. They were but flies in his peripheral. They were nameless - faceless and dull as the shadows about them - and he was yet too blind to all except the maelstrom in his own thoughts to pay them any heed.

And so as a squall he returned to his coastal home - as a gale, fierce and furious - tearing through the halls of his stately home, flying through corridors, the icy grip at his soul radiating from his very being and permeating every room; every inch; every corner of that desolate, unhappy home. With a force that surprised even himself he threw back the doors to his study and the clamour was so great and ungodly that it could be heard on the other side of the building, yet it fell deaf and dull upon his ears. Tadase could not hear the world around him anymore. He could not hear the concerned voice of the King; could not taste the fiery tang of liquor upon his tongue; he could not feel the warmth of the day upon his skin even now as he stood in the light beneath the grand windows - even now as those rays of light pooled and danced and flickered gently down upon his cheeks.

But, though the skies were clear and the sun was bright against the endless blue, within Tadase's heart the storm still raged; the rain still poured; the clouds so heavy and grey - so unyielding and bitter. It was almost as if the downpour had followed him home. It was as if those clouds had never cleared and so it was with that torrential downpour weighing heavy in his head, enshrouding him in a chaotic haze, that he restlessly paced the floor of his study until the rug wore bare beneath his feet. Back and forth and back and forth he went endlessly as a ship sent afloat on stranger tides, yet, though the sea was boundless and the confines of this world still yet unclear, the Commander had never felt more subdued. More grounded. More trapped. Claustrophobic this room now seemed - the bookcases looming and imposing; the air stuffy; the dust thick and the smell of parchment so stifling that he desperately tugged at the stiff starch of his collar, gasping for breath, muttering;

"I have to find them…"

And on and on the mantra went;

"I have to find her..!"

Yet no longer fierce was his resolve. It had felt to him as of late as though he had been trapped inside some cruel and twisted nightmare - as though some higher, heinous power had stared deep into the confines of his soul, reaching into his heart, taking that which he most adored and warping it beyond all recognition and in his head he still heard his own voice playing as a poor-timed tune - an off-key waltz, for such things he had never expected to fall from his own lips.

To retrieve her he had promised. To pursue her he had vowed. To cast away any hint of fond recall he had oh-so desperately told himself on many sleepless nights because, after all, what use was the love of a woman so unpredictable; so shamelessly traitorous; so desperate to throw herself headfirst into perils untold with another man's name ringing from her lips..?

And, whilst Tadase knew deep down within his heart that he would never sleep again whilst such an injustice still went unanswered… Why must he find her, he wondered? Why must he face her? What would he ever do once faced with such a sight again?

But, in truth… He did not know. Tadase did not know what he would do with her. Black sails and blue hair and ice-white diamonds were one thing… But pink? Golden eyes and rosy cheeks and laughter like a flowing spring?

Tadase stopped in his tracks. At last the pacing ceased and struck dead he stood in the middle of his study, his face aglow in the sunlight, his hair a beacon blond and heavenly as a halo about his head... And, slowly, his eyes fell upon the desk.

About it's surface was yet another chaos. Maps. Plans. Layouts of ships and itineraries and lists of supplies all lay spread unorganised and careless before his gaze… And yet, amidst it all, there stood out but a single sheet - a single, crumpled piece of parchment; ripped at the edge, torn down from some bulletin in its haste; burned and black at the edges and marked with official print;

PROCLAMATION:

For the Apprehension and Trial of;

IKUTO TSUKIYOMI
Captain and most Notorious Pyrate of the Shining Black.

"The Shining Black…"

The words left Tadase's lips before he had even realised they were on his tongue - a whisper so slight that they barely even reached his ears; that he barely even felt them fall even as he uttered on in time with that fateful declaration;

"To be Apprehended and Hang'd under Claims of several Acts of Pyracy…"

And there that buccan's face sprang out against the pale parchment and his gaze, though composed of mere paper and ink, was piercing; all-knowing; following and mocking as he read those boldly-printed words aloud, drawn and guided as though by some inexplicable force;

"...including the Battle of July 4th whereby Tsukiyomi and his Accomplices did strike and engage in Unlawful Conflict with His Royal Majesty's Emerald Line, and…"

And Tadase stopped. The words halted - ceased of a sudden in their tracks. His jaw hung slack, his throat was dry. He could not read the rest of that parchment. Nor could he bring himself to follow that line even with his gaze, for he knew all too well by now how the rest of it read…

...and of his involvement in the Orchestration
and Nefarious Abduction of Her Royal
Highness Princess Amu Hinamori.

By Order of His Royal Majesty King Tsumugu Hinamori.

And, suddenly - whether by some trick of the light or the delusions of his own imagination, he could not tell - Tadase could have sworn he saw the caricature smirk. It's eyes were twinkling; his brows disgruntled and furrowed; his hair a monotone mess about the strong line of his cheekbones…

Tadase's heartbeat stopped dead in his chest. His lungs burned. His frustration for just one single, briefest of moments seemed to falter… And, for a moment, the Commander felt at a loss.

It was as though the reality had never fully hit him. It was as though he had been somehow blind up until now. It as if suddenly his head was clear enough to fully realise - to fully comprehend - just how dearly his heart had grown to ache at such a memory; at such inescapable grief.

'Tsukiyomi…'

Ikuto Tsukiyomi…

'My…'

"M-My…"

"Brother!"

And above the roar of the sea and the crash of the surf that young boy's voice still rose high and shrill somewhere deep within his memory; the wind still echoing in his ears as he sprinted through the sea grass and tumbled about the sand, whipping at his tiny, chubby cheeks as the little blond boy yelled;

"Big brother!"

"Big brother, play for me!"

"Play another one for me!"

For a moment, Tadase thought he could feel some long, old-forgotten scar tear open anew - fresh and deep within his chest. For a second, he felt the blood rise up, hot and searing, welling up until his very being was drawn dry and lifeless and desperately limp across the desk. The Commander did not know that he had fallen back into his chair. He did not realise that his cheeks were wet nor that such old wounds still lingered somewhere in the dusty, darkness confines of his aching heart.

For one, brief moment, he let that grief consume him.

His brother…

The man who had ended it all.

And then, just as quickly, the rage returned.

"CURSE YOU!"

Tadase's voice was seething - as sudden as a flash of lightning; as tumultuous as the roar of thunder; as hissing and scalding and searing as a touch of venom. His vision red; his mind blank; the echo of his rage rebounding endlessly against the walls as he stood and spat and cursed aloud;

"CURSE YOU, BUCCANEERS!"

A crash. A shattering of glass. The crumpling and fluttering as many parchments flew to the floor, swept clean off the face of the desk as in his ire the Commander cast off all that lay before him. Ornate candelabras went clattering to the ground. Pens and ink pots his the cabinet to his right. Fresh was and a cup of tea sell steaming onto the rug below and Tadase stood there breathing, panting heavily, his shoulders hunched and crumbled as a tin man bent under the weight of his sorrow. But, though stooped and weathered his body might have been, his gaze was as stern as steel, a dangerous glint sparkling ever-brightly in his eye was he lifted his eye and said;

"Whatever they do…" he vowed; "Wherever they go… No matter how desperately they might try to flee… I shall find them. I'll find them all! I'll grab them by the scruff of their mangy necks and I'll leave them to SUN-DRY AT THE GIBBET!"

And, utterly spent, he sent his fist down onto his desk and collapsed back into his chair.

"They'll sun-dry at the gibbet…"

~.~.~

It was perhaps a week after that their first problem arose.

It had taken Ikuto and Utau, both working long and hard into the gathering night, perhaps two days at most to have fully learned Kazuomi's invented writing system. Indeed they had made sure that no symbol escaped their sight; that no map nor document nor anything else that Hikaru had so graciously surrendered would hold unto them any secrets hidden or otherwise. Amu had been with them for some of it. For the first night at least she remained in the main cabin and admired the delicately illustrated map with wide and curious eyes, following those inky dragons down the line of the page, staring out over scrawled seas and sketchy shores and in her head she envisioned hidden isles dark and devious and most worthy of such a deceitful man such as Kazuomi Ichinomiya. Her knowledge of the old, archaic tongue of Sieyo's law too came to be of far more use than Ikuto could express, for in their ransacking of the Captain's cabin they had found quite a thick scroll comprised of several pages all written in that prestigious text and so there the former heir to the Crown had sat, jotting down notes and translations where useful until sleep had overcome her and a wash of exhaustion had had her slumped across the desk, breathing softly, drifting so deeply that she had barely felt her love's hand upon her shoulder nor that gentle peck upon her brow.

As it was, Amu had had little success in sleep ever since that little trip to the mainland. Somehow it seemed impossible - seemed futile and reckless - to so much as think of succumbing to such a peaceful bliss when somewhere out there there still waited a man overdue the call of justice; when just across the corridor in Ikuto's cabin there lay the key to hunting him down as the dog he truly was; when as she lay in bed and gazed across the fine line of the sea she saw it sparkle beneath the starlight as the Key around her neck and heard the call of its partner beckon - felt the pull of its presence draw her ever further across the water.

But, whilst it may have been that they'd found their solution - whilst it might have been true that they held more hope to fulfilling their intent with the help of the young Lord's work more than ever before - it soon came to be that they hit their first snag in that long, long road toward revenge and redemption.

They had been forced to abandon the tropics - and that was perhaps the most inconvenient of their issues more than anything. In general, it was preferable for a pirate to return to the warmer latitudes around the turn of winter and throughout the mild chill of fall, for the north grew bitter much quicker and there grew an abundance of free and foragable food throughout the southern isles - not to mention that they were free to do so without the risk of contracting the many fevers and diseases that were rife and contagious throughout the summer months. But it was on the third day after their visit to Hikaru's home - just when Ikuto had grown intent on plotting a steady course southward towards the first potential plot of islands that his stepfather might once have frequented - that they had descried the telltale smudge of white sails far beyond the line of the sea, peeping up over the rise of the rolling waves, to the naked eye but a cloud slowly sinking out of sight, yet their watchman's eye was keen and their spyglass moreso and therefore, upon seeing the turn of her prow and the wind in her sheets, they had hastily made their retreat. She had seen them, no doubt, and her colours had begun to rise atop her mast when last they'd caught her, but it was all for naught. She was but a mortal before a myth and before she had even crossed a hundred leagues the Shining Black had vanished, dissipating before her very eyes and making off into the boundless blue beyond. Rumours would fly, the crew of that diamond sail thought. Soon enough, tales did indeed make landfall towards the west - spreading through Seiyo as a fire across coal; fanning the flames; igniting that spark of intrigue that had gripped the common folk, for ever their ears still hearkened to the mystery of the empty sea and to word of the royal maiden who somewhere still roamed her father's waters.

And certainly Ikuto now stood aboard the forecastle of the Shining Black, uneasily casting his eyes over the faint shimmer of the dawn on the sea and feeling a chill run down his spine, for these truly were the King's waters. Since that first brief encounter, they had narrowly avoided no less than three further ships of the line - more even if, as he suspected, some had been the heads of further fleets beyond their sights. In their panic, they had been forced to turn towards the northwest, away from the warm oceans where they had preferred to dwell and ever-closer to that shadow that still lingered as a choking smog over the country of Seiyo. With every day they grew closer to the impending doom they knew awaited them at the hands of the law; they drifted further from their target; and now, as they were driven from those blessed tropical lands, they were beginning to run increasingly low on many of the fruits they were dependent on. In less than a month, Ikuto thought, they would start to suffer if they did not find a way to replenish their supplies.

And so, in short, Ikuto was deeply troubled, dwelling deep in his own murky thoughts, as he watched the first of his crew exchange hands, newly-risen men ambling up from the hatchway and releasing their grateful colleagues from the gruelling night shift. Though, in truth, it was almost hard to believe that such a malice had ever dwelt here. It was hard to believe right now that there even lay such a heaviness over their hearts, for this dawn was truly like the most magnificent watercolour Ikuto had ever seen. All around them the waters lay calm, lapping gently at the hull beneath them, glowing lilac beneath the receding night. The ship still lay in a shroud of mist - a sea fog so thin and wispy, lingering above the water as a heavenly cloud, stained a pink so gentle and pure that in that moment the world seemed wholly serene. They could have been becalmed - sat still in this little bubble far away from the troubles of this world - and Ikuto would not have cared. Breathing deeply, the air was light and crisp. He almost entirely forgot their peril then.

"Mornin',"

Or, at least, he did right up until a familiar face sidled up to him. Kukai leant up against the ship beside him and nodded out towards the crystal waters. "But chill this far north," he said casually; "but it's nice an' calm enough. We're thinkin' it might clear up with the sun."

To this Ikuto hummed noncommittally in response. If he was being honest, he would much have preferred to stay stood here in the thin sliver of respite between the dark of night and the waking of the world, for it would be yet another day ahead of gruelling labour and unfulfilled tasks if the long-winded struggle of the coded map was anything to go by. If he saw but one other nonsensical symbol, he swore he'd go mad.

And then, as if Kukai had somehow miraculously read his very thoughts - as if he had somehow managed to delve deep into the workings of his inner mind and had decided that now would be the perfect time to torment him even more - he just had to pipe up;

"Any luck with those mystery hideouts yet? Ya know - the ones on the map?"

Ikuto's face must have dropped dramatically then because Kukai immediately sighed.

"Never thought it'd be so hard," he mused to himself. "Well, the decoding and such, that is. We even got a lesson from the young Lord hi'self!"

"Utau is still trying to translate." Ikuto said somewhat stiffly. "Learning it has not been easy."

He took that chance to send Kukai a particularly stern look to which the younger pirate just shrugged half-heartedly. Ikuto thought in that moment that he would have very much liked to see Kukai try to decode such an unexpectedly sophisticated writing system. Ikuto had been a fool to think that this would have been a straightforward task. As it had turned out, Kazuomi's writing system when translated was quite unlike any other prose found in the world today. As it turned out, he had not decided to style his notes after any fashion of the modern tongue, rather he had evidently taken to using the old script of Seiyo - the founding language of the very country that flourished today; the kind that was reserved for official documents and royal decrees and customs of their court of law. And, therefore, it had turned out that to have a member of the royal line aboard their very ship had been a blessing. Ikuto and Utau's knowledge of the archaic tongue was shaky at best - pieced together from fragments of childhood memory; from glimpses of script along tapestries or gold-picked letters on books or plaques hewn from stone and set high above their heads; little hints and slivers and reminders that had been weathered over time and choked by smoke and ash as their once-grand home came crashing down all around them, and burying whatever remnants still held strong deep beneath the ruins.

But, somehow, Ikuto did not feel a chill at that recollection. He did not feel yet another shiver leap up his spine at the sudden memory, for his thoughts had been turned almost entirely towards that very blessing and it was then, as the first of the fog began to lift - as the thin veil of mist slowly began to peel back as gossamer drapes before the breeze - that Ikuto saw the line of the water steeped in red, shining under the rising sun a gold so piercing - so dazzling and alight in a heavenly blaze - that his heart was swayed.

"Where's Amu?"

The question sprung unbidden from his thoughts, bursting from his lips before he could even catch up with the workings of his own inner mind, but it was obvious to him now that such glorious gold and blush, blossoming pink would only ever invoke such a connection in his mind. It was a flash of life. A burst of colour. It was soft and warm and all he lacked and so, despite himself, Ikuto couldn't help but smirk cheekily as he uttered;

"Where's our princess this morning?"

Kukai shot him such a knowing, fiendish look that it was almost embarrassing. Or, at least, it would have been had the Captain's mind not been so focused on the colours of this watercolour dawn. At the very least he didn't say aloud whatever jest was on his mind and, come to mention it, Ikuto thought it was quite astounding that none of his crew had yet spoken aloud about their Captain's fancy for the forme heiress of Seiyo. Their whispers were always amused, but never mocking. Their glances were never scandalised, but respectful. They tipped their hats and bowed their heads whenever they passed and when they caught sight of the curious couple side-by-side on-deck, their expressions turned as soft as a gentle breeze; their eyes as warm as summer light… And Ikuto remained astounded, but grateful even as Kukai chuckled and nodded towards the stern.

"Been up with Utau all night in yer cabin." Kukai said simply. The wind blew lightly then, ruffling his rusty hair about his face, and his cheeks grew colourful in the pale light of the early morning sun. "Honestly!" he laughed; "You've got a princess in ya cabin all night an' ya didn't think ta join her? That's mental, if you don't mind my sayin' so, Cap'n!"

In any other situation, Ikuto might have smacked Kukai upside the head for such a remark, but, as it was, he was still too enraptured by the glowing scene before him - by the multicoloured show of the sun on the water and the stain of the clouds and that vision in his head of honey gold - to truly pay attention. Though it was true that he had been reluctant to leave the two woman in his quarters all night, working by themselves, slaving over all those nonsensical notes that had driven him insane. It had all been a bit too much for him that night. It had almost been suffocating stuck there in that cabin that had once held such horrors, surrounded by the psychotic scribblings of the very beast that had lurked there and so he had quite hastily taken his leave, muttering something about the night watch and ambling perhaps too quickly out onto the deck. He had lingered here that night, overseeing, but not really watching his compliant crew. Rather he had reminded beside the mizzenmast, his head tipped thoughtfully back towards the sky and his eyes alight and twinkling beneath the fleeting stars, for if any could guide him unto his ultimate destination, Ikuto thought - if any could shine light upon his own inner compass; could pierce through the shroud of undying fog; if any could deliver him across the night and beyond the sea… It was that blissful light; those tranquil sparks breathing life and meaning into the empty, never-ending void above; it was the very light beneath which he had first truly come to realise how his heart truly ached with love and longing for that fair and flighty maiden.

But, though he had learned to long for the light of the stars a long, long time ago, Ikuto could not deny that it was she who had dragged him through towards the dawn. And so it was that he had learned to love the sun. Sunlight upon gold. Sunlight upon the water. Bold, unwavering rays of fire-hot courage seeping into his skin and casting clarity upon this more liberating world would perhaps draw him far closer to his rightful path than any shimmer of starlight could. And if ever the sun now rose and she was not beside him, his spirit would forever grow chill and tormented with unrest.

And so Ikuto made off quicker than his crewmate could finish his sentence. Leaving Kukai chuckling and shaking his head behind him, Ikuto strode back aft and briskly left the chill of the morn for the relative warmth of his cabin, all the while biting back a delightful smirk. He half-suspected that he would find that pink-haired, stubborn little woman half-collapsed in a chair at his desk or else slumped up against the bottom of the bedpost, worked to the very bone under the strict and unforgiving orders of his sister. Utau was never an easy person to work in a confined space with for any amount of time (to which he supposed he partly owed his hasty retreat the night before, far more in favour of spending a night in the open than with his more-than-usual temperamental sister), much less so, even, when she was particularly frustrated with this whole map business.

Ikuto took a deep breath before entering his cabin - the very same cabin that his been his nightmare for the past ten years of his life, yet now it was truly unrecognisable. Stood here now in the grand space of the Captain's cabin, it was hard to believe that such a malice had ever dwelt here.

Dark was this cabin no longer. Grim and foreboding and beyond redemption was Kazuomi's former cabin no more. It had perhaps been their new Captain's first port of call after settling to reside here himself - once the clouds had cleared and the danger had passed and once all around them there lay spread nothing but the safe, satisfying sight of empty sea - to scour this ship from keel to deck; to exorcise the irrepressible darkness; to rid it's decks of any lasting memory of that tyrant that had sought to pervert such a glorious craft into nothing more than a tool for his own, nefarious deeds. Tirelessly and vigorously these men had worked to transform her. The hull had been caulked and saved from impending disrepair; the decks had been scrubbed thrice a day for three whole days after the last remnants of Seiyo had sunk beyond sight; line had been rewound and sails had been straightened and, even after all of that - even after such a herculean task… Just about every man had banded together and one by one they had stripped the Captain's cabin of all that had once made it such a foreboding lair. Hours of scrubbing it had taken. Days of toil and sweat and muscle and sometimes still, even now, occasionally it could be felt in the dead of night as though something still yet stirred in the depths of the shadows - as if there remained something lurking in the corners; something intangible and icy cold and as dark as the very depths of the ocean floor… But here, even in the weak flicker of the candlelight, the change was undoubtedly remarkable.

The planks were polished. The air was clean and fresh. Wax and dust and age-old grime no longer clung to every surface as they once had done, clinging on with greasy fingers as if for dearest life as the years drew on and the shine of this grandest ship began to fade. The furniture remained as it always had before, yet still to Ikuto it felt as though all were brand new - as if this place had been rejuvenated beyond recognition. Just the shine of the newly-cleaned windows caught Ikuto off-guard, the diamond glass glowing subtly in the gathering light…

But the only thing that unsettled his soul was the sight of the chaos inside. Utau and Amu were each seated on two of the many, ornate rugs and all about them there remained the fruitless efforts of their night's endeavours. Papers and parchment and scrolls lay strewn all about the floor of the cabin until Ikuto could barely see the floor beneath. Many maps there also were, fluttering to the floor, some standing out in bursts of colour or in shades of darkest black beneath the sea of yellow and brown. To him it looked as if an entire atlas had been devastated - torn from its spine and left to scatter across the floor. Even in his head Ikuto still heard the dry scratching of paper against paper from countless sleepless nights before and the gentle hush of the sea beyond, but nothing more. He kept his head down for the briefest second. An old map lay half-torn before his feet. He faltered almost instantly then, but stood his ground nonetheless, for when he saw the state of this cabin he was wracked with a horrible chill. The chaos; the disorder; the spread of scrolls about the floor… It was all too familiar. It reminded him too much…

Ikuto shook his head. He did not wish to brood here as Kazuomi had done. Utau and Amu looked up as he walked in and both of them looked as if snapped from a dreadful daze.

"Ikuto!" Utau gasped aloud (probably before she even realised it) and blinked in confusion. Her eyes were wide and her face was pale. "You're on midnight watch?"

At this Ikuto almost chuckled aloud. He strode calmly over to the desk behind them and snuffed out the single candle between his fingertips. When the room did not darken, rather left faded and steeped in hues of blue and lilac under the new light beyond the window, Utau looked aghast.

"I left for midnight duty five hours ago, sister dearest." Ikuto rolled his eyes. Whilst Utau whirled around to blink in confusion at the cabin windows, utterly at a loss to realise that such time had passed, the Captain turned to hum at the girl to his left. "Long night, Your Highness?"

Amu's hair was thoroughly in disarray and large, grey bags swelled beneath her shining eyes, but, fair enough to the girl, she got to her feet immediately and folded her arms across her chest.

"You're going to have to come up with a better nickname for me, ruffian. It's hardly appropriate." Amu uttered, picking up an armful of tightly-bound journals and hauling them onto the top of a nearby sea chest. Currently at least five of them were reserved for dumping all of that which they didn't need - which they deemed useless and trifling in the greater scheme of things, for any documents left behind with reference to Kazuomi's hideaways was without fail their greatest priority. Amu continued; "I hope you didn't just barge in to amuse yourself, Ikuto."

Ikuto almost laughed and, indeed, that spark of mischievous humour that she so loved had begun to light up in the depths of his glorious eyes, but he quickly stopped. He caught himself - quelled the flame and bit back his tongue, for he saw now that these two ladies looked thoroughly harassed after such a night's work. Suddenly remembering himself, he changed his tone and moved towards the desk. His fingers trailed over a large stack of parchment all jotted with various annotations.

"What have you got?" He asked and, through the corner of his eye, he caught a glimpse of the alphabet that Hikaru had provided for them. "What progress have we made with the young Lord's notes? Have we translated Kazuomi's papers?"

Upon hearing this, Utau immediately drew herself away from the window and all of a sudden her gaze was clear again and all confusion seemed to vanish as the mist outside. "For the most part." She began, marching back over to the table and hauling over a small pile of parchment with her. It hit the desk with a trickle of dust and she began to flicker through the pages. "There is very little of Kazuomi's writing system in the notes he left behind. Or, at least, none of which will be of any use to us. Most of them are old letters to his henchmen - secret messages, that sort of thing…" And, midway, Utau paused, her brows furrowing and her gaze deadly. "But there is something."

Ikuto couldn't deny that his breath hitched suddenly in his throat. He couldn't deny that, almost immediately, he felt his blood heat up as though ignited by the flames of his own fury, for with every step they took to trail down this man he felt his resolve strengthen. And so, lowly, he said;

"Show me."

"There is a map," Utau said, her gaze locking with his; "another map just like the one his grandson gave us. It was found from the stash of scrolls we found beneath the planks. Except…"

Ikuto frowned. "Except..?"

"Except," Amu spoke up hesitantly, clutching in her arms a folded, crumpled-looking document. She placed it before them and, her fingertips oh-so-gently trailing the edges, she shook her head and sighed. "Except it looks to have been redesigned. There are newer symbols - later ones - far more lavish and intricate than the ones we've seen before…"

She didn't even have to finish because Ikuto had already guessed. "And," he heaved an almighty sigh; "not included in the young Lord's notes."

And when Amu unfolded the map before his very eyes, he saw that he was right. Near-identical to the former this map was - illustrations and landmarks and all - yet Ikuto saw even from afar, even as he lowered his eyes and raked a hand through his hair, that there was scattered about the seas new and far more stylised symbols that he could never hope to fathom. Country names and similar markings were the only words omitted and instead it appeared that Kazuomi had seen fit to only mark the locations and identities of little isles - just about every little isle from here in the icy north to the humid, sweltering tropics of the south…

"But there are hundreds of them." Ikuto uttered weakly, feeling his head begin to pound. "How should we know which..?"

It appeared Utau mirrored his thoughts, for she sighed heavily and, from the pile through which she'd been rifling, she produced a slip of parchment where there was written out in clearer script all of these new, mysterious names, inked far more carefully - far more neatly and boldly and so unusually artistically - than any they had ever seen.

"They are not individual place names," she told him, gesturing vaguely to the plethora of little markings that riddled the illustrated seas; "but it appears that they are grouped. Kazuomi marks each island with one of seven symbols. If we can figure out what each symbol means then we can hope to guess which ones are our best bet of tracking him down…" And when the blonde glanced up and her eyes were wild, yet suddenly once more glazed with fatigue. "He has to be on one of these islands, Ikuto… He has to be! We have heard no word of him! No mention! No memory - nothing! Whatever he was doing... W-Well, he-he would have made some impact somewhere, surely!"

But Ikuto just rubbed out his eyes with a palm and tried his best to breathe - to think clearly and work with logic whilst these infuriating puzzles still lay sprawled all around his feet, yet still those secret messages lay scrawled about the lands untapped; untranslatable and as glaring as any obstacle they had ever approached, for each and every one of them knew that their every endeavour in pursuit of Kazuomi would be all for naught without these treasured hints. Currently, Ikuto and the two women stared wistfully at them. Even when he had long abandoned them - even when his spirit had long since departed and left all the world behind him steeped in mystery and confusion - Kazuomi still worked such devilry and trickery at their minds that it was almost hard to believe. It had taken them days to lay their hands on all of his secrets. It had taken perhaps a couple of weeks for them to be sure that they had rifled through all that their former Captain had to offer them - that they had finally laid their hands on every journal; every Captain's log; every map and scroll and scrap of parchment they could find, most of which they had found snuck and siphoned away in countless secret drawers; behind false panels in the back of bookshelves; tucked between the spaces between planks… They'd even found some old documents illustrating a common divide of loot inserted in the space between the wall and the base of the bed. This place had proved to be a maze - an intelligible riddle almost as baffling as that which lay before them now as they cast their eyes for the thousandth time over the information Hikaru had given them, but, though it had seemed so simple back then in that dingy study, now this conundrum seemed utterly incomprehensible… Now they had no idea - no clue, no hint - as to how they might distinguish each island from the next without the proper code, for surely their former Captain could not have had so many islands at his disposal…

(Or, at least… They hoped not.)

"One of these symbols must be the hint we need…" Ikuto whispered, more to himself to get his head around the whole matter, to ground himself in the moment lest he be carried far off by his own misgivings, unaware that he had spoken aloud into the still air of the cabin. His words washed uneasy over his companions. Utau for the first time almost looked guilty, though Amu suspected it had more to do with her lack of knowledge - that it lay in some sort of humiliation, for, as hard as she might have tried, she had been unable to decide which isles would be of any use in their search and they had truly grown despondent at the prospect of having to scour so many little slabs of rock scattered about the sea.

"It's a pity he didn't just mark them all with a big red 'X', huh?" Amu murmured half-heartedly then.

Ikuto hummed in acknowledgement, but didn't say anything. He set down the pile he had been idly flicking through perhaps more forcefully than needed and looked up for the first time in what felt like hours. Just outside, reflected in the dazzling stern window, he saw that the moon was just beginning to sink below the horizon, consumed by the swell of the sea. The upward rise of the morning sun must have been well underway, he thought, for the edges of that magnificent view was stained with the slightest, softest hints of orange and pink, swallowing the purple night.

"Ikuto,"

Utau's voice drew him back into the moment. All of a sudden, he was reminded of the presence of others in the room. Amu was looking at him curiously. Utau was speaking and it was heavy - so suddenly low and tense that it was hard to believe that it was actually her voice echoing about the room. She shook her head hopelessly.

"I doubt we'll be able to decode any of this…"

It was like a sudden blow - a sudden strike landed square in the chest - but it was nothing that Ikuto didn't already know. It was more as though he'd been too afraid to admit it, he thought as he glanced back at the plethora of parchments littered in-between them. He was met with the sudden urge to boot a nearby stack of leather-bound logs. A frustration so red and raw was bubbling away within his chest that Ikuto couldn't even bring himself to reply. He had not even anticipated the use of a code until he and his crew had first started rifling through the many abandoned papers left behind in Kazuomi's wake. His stepfather (as much as he hated to admit it) was undeniably a smarter, far more fiendish man than any of them had ever thought. To say they had been thrown off the trail would have been an understatement, for, though they had stalked these seas and scourged this cabin for all it was worth endlessly ever since their target had disappeared, vanishing as silently and swiftly as a mist before sunrise, and now… Well... He was nowhere to be found.

"We're sure no one aboard is aware of a newer code?"

Amu's voice was small and tentative - almost drowned and swallowed whole by the irrepressible weight of silence - but it reached them nonetheless. Ikuto looked up briefly and felt his expression soften. He knew as well as she that it was a hope beyond hope… But that single, little effort warmed his heart all the same.

"No," Utau replied. "Kazuomi would never have told any save perhaps his own men." And then she frowned, glancing about the room and scrutinising the many papers at their feet with a keen, piercing stare. "Still… It does not sit well with me that Kazuomi would be so bold as to leave all his documents behind…" Before her nose there lay an ink-smudged map. She bent down briefly to pick it up. Her expression soured considerably. "To think that we would be too simple to decipher them… How demeaning."

"Perhaps he had not the time to take them all with him." Amu suggested. Utau nodded, looking deep in thought and fell back into an unusually quiet lull.

There was a silence then - as unwelcome and stifling as any - and suddenly, though the sun was rising and the light strengthening by the second, it felt to each and every one of them as though they were sinking into a deep, dark well of despair and desperation from which they could not escape; which surrounded them in a suffocating silence so impenetrable that not even the sea breeze could pierce it; not even the resounding echoes of their own frustrated cries could break it. And, in that moment, Ikuto suddenly felt as though he'd been dragged bodily from all source of light - from all hint of star or glow of moon or ray of sunlight. In the end, he glanced once more at the mess of papers that occupied his personal quarters and heaved a sigh.

"It doesn't matter." He said eventually. Utau and Amu watched him curiously as he began to gather up the paperwork one by one, separating them into whatever order he could manage and beginning to take them over to an empty cabinet - the big one beside the sea cases with a thick glass door and a sturdy brass lock. He didn't want to read them. He didn't want to look at them. For today and possibly tonight, at least, Ikuto wanted these infernal drafts out of sight and out of mind, for they had begun to plague his every thought - interrupting his concentration; wreaking havoc with his daily tasks; seeping into his dreams; disorientating his very mind with impossible shapes and squiggles and sketches beyond his comprehension; hanging like a dark shadow over his head. "We'll get nowhere unless we're well-rested." He said and, seeing the dawning realisation spreading across his sister's face - seeing the flush of her cheeks and the spark of indignation in her keen eyes - Ikuto interrupted before she so much as had a chance to open her mouth; "You're relieved from duty, Utau." He said sternly. "And if I catch you trying to sneak so much as a scrap of parchment from this room-"

"Ikuto, I won't have it!" the blonde piped up, apparently unable to contain herself anymore. "Amu and I - we're so close! If you'll just let me narrow these groups down-!"

"You and Amu," Ikuto began, glancing briefly in the rosette's direction, unable to shake the nagging feeling that he sounded very much like a father trying to coerce his disobedient child into bed (and, in fact, he almost wanted to share a particularly withered look with her, for she almost looked as exasperated as he); "looked about ready to drop dead the moment I came in here. You are relieved from duty."

The door to the cabinet swung heavily shut, the latch clicking audibly as Ikuto firmly locked away the last lingering papers. In the dim light cast across its surface he could see his sister's reflection. She looked utterly aghast.

"Ikuto… Ikuto, this man… These papers-"

"To hell with Kazuomi's papers!" Ikuto snapped. "The wretched cretin's not even here anymore and still he works us half to death."

"Just because it's a little harder than you initially thought-!"

The pitch of Utau's tone had reached untold new levels, but the stony look on Ikuto's face cut her dead off. His eyes were dull, his jaw set tight. The Captain of the Shining Black turned slowly towards his sister, staring coldly into lilac eyes. There was a second or so of uneasy silence - an unwelcome pause during which Amu watched the clock on the bookshelf tick nervously and the two siblings continued to share some unspoken argument, their gazes piercing, their shoulders squared, each as unyielding as the other. Amu briefly wondered which would back down first... But then Ikuto found his voice. When he spoke, she had the distinctive impression that he was trying his very best to reign back his fury.

"No amount of 'hard work', is going to keep me from finding him." Ikuto said lowly. "No one wants to hunt him more than I."

In fairness, Amu thought that that was probably true enough, but she stayed quiet and the longer she watched their exchange the more she thought she understood. The longer she watched, the more she noticed. She noticed the circles beneath the Captain's eyes; she saw the grimace on his lips every time he glanced at the cabinet; she saw his eyes grow jaded and dull and with every hint - every reminder he lay his eyes on - she watched some dark, new shadow wash unsettlingly across his face. She wondered when he'd last slept. She wondered when he'd last allowed himself respite from their current predicament. Amu had realised the previous night that his leave had been necessary for his own sanity… But now, as she watched, Amu wondered if it had been too little too late.

And again, in the dim light of the cabin, Ikuto hissed;

"You are off duty, Utau."

Perhaps it was just Amu's imagination, but something about his tone seemed final. In fact, it must have been real, she reasoned, because it was then that Utau visibly deflated. Her gaze was still seething, her teeth still grit, but, somehow, it appeared that she had met her match. It was a good few moments before she found the words to speak again.

"Well," Utau whispered, her arms across her chest, her nose stuck up high with whatever dignity she could muster. "If I am not wanted here," she began mockingly; "then perhaps I'll see what use the crew has for me."

It wasn't much, but at the very least it might have stopped her from sinking further into the very pit of obsession that Ikuto had wanted to avoid, he thought, though he could not deny that as soon as his ire died he was consumed by the most irrepressible, nagging sense of guilt. He glanced after her as she turned on her heel, muttering some obscenity and flouncing towards the door as quickly as she could manage. Her cheeks were red and burning with humiliation. Ikuto's heart clenched. Just as she was about to reach for the doorknob, he opened his mouth to intervene.

But he never made it. And nor did Utau, for it was at that very moment - just as Ikuto was about to cave; just as Amu was about to quietly sink into her own blissful slumber in the background whilst neither had noticed - that the doors flew open, banging thunderously against the wall, resounding throughout the stern so suddenly that Ikuto almost shuddered at the déjà-vu, flinching on instinct as if expecting to be met with the sight of steely eyes and a long, black cloak and bootsteps as calamitous as an earthquake beneath the ocean.

But there was none of that. No - no surging, shadowy force; no terrifying gaze; no booming voice nor rumbling growl nor terror in the form of their most oppressive former Captain. No… There before them, none other than Kukai was bent over double, his hands on his knees, panting heavily. His cheeks flushed and his mouth agape, the young pirate took a moment to brace himself in the doorway, clearly having sprinted perhaps the entire length of the frigate to get there. Utau stumbled beside him, dazed, but she otherwise composed herself very quickly. Amu was jolted out of her fatigue. Blinking and utterly puzzled, Ikuto merely raised an eyebrow, regarding his crewmate with a sort of scrutiny normally reserved for dingy, dilapidated taverns or when passing a madman on the side of the road or, well… Kukai.

"What on earth's the matter with you?" Ikuto mumbled.

"Kukai?" Amu said aloud. He glanced up then and tried to give her what she could only suppose was meant to be a wave and a cheeky wink, but it came out weak and feeble as he failed to catch his breath. "What have you been doing to yourself?" She immediately grabbed a goblet of… something that Utau had left on the edge of the desk and offered him a drink, but he shook his head and, though his face was pink with exertion, Kukai's knuckles were white and firm as he held his fist up before them.

"It's Daichi…" He managed between breaths. He somehow managed to even out his pulse, managed to soothe his burning lungs, as he strode into the cabin far more steadily, all the while waving about his fist. "He's back! He's… He's come back… From the shore..."

For a brief second, Ikuto felt like slamming his forehead against the table. In the background, Amu and Utau exchanged clueless looks. Yes, it might have been true that Daichi the parrot had made himself scarce as of late, but it was also true that they really had no good use for the bird anymore. Not since Kazuomi's departure, that was. The dumb bird's sole purpose throughout their former Captain's time on this ship had been purely for communication - for sending messages back and forth from the mainland where there in the shadows still lay the last of Kazuomi's band of ruthless lackeys; of his on-shore gangs that had once torched and terrorised a nation all in pursuit of the Humpty Lock and the Dumpty Key that accompanied it. They would relay to him that which he needed - the locations of naval fleets; the course of ships worthy of plunder; they would indulge in the retelling of current affairs and occasionally might receive something back of whatever notorious scheme their Captain was cooking up himself...

But, of course, Kazuomi was no longer amongst them. None save he had been permitted to send forth any sort of message from the deck of the Shining Black and none would reply unless Kazuomi had first reached out. Ever since then, Daichi's existence had been far less bound to the ship than before and it was not uncommon for him to disappear from time to time if there were islands nearby for him to roost on and so, exhausted as it was and thoroughly disgruntled, Ikuto frowned and massaged his temples.

"Kukai, I don't care about your God-damned parrot."

But, apparently and quite unhelpfully, Kukai was unfazed.

"No! Cap'n - you don't understand! Daichi's been back to the mainland…" And then the pirate grinned devilishly and once more proffered his fist;

"And he's brought ya a little gift."

When he opened his palm, Ikuto saw a single scroll inside. It was perhaps half the size of Kukai's hand, rough and well-worn around the edges, whitened mercilessly by sun and sea salt… But on it's edge was a blackened seal and beneath it was a roughly-drawn marking which Ikuto recognised as one of his stepfather's infamous symbols. His heartbeat quickened. Across the room, Utau flew over to the rust-haired pirate and snatched the scroll from his grasp, her jaw hung agape.

"It's marked with one of his seals…" she whispered aloud, turning the thing over time and time again in her hands. When she brought her eyes back up to her brother, he could hardly tell whether she was elated or terrified. "Kazuomi's gangs… His men on-shore…"

Behind him, Ikuto heard Amu let out a tiny 'oh!' in intrigue and he knew then that she must have understood. Hell, he was not even sure that he understood. Kazuomi, he had so confidently thought, must have had every help from each of his groups on-shore to so successfully orchestrate his escape from them. He must have shared with each and every one of them his plans to abandon ship and vanish off into night, leaving them foundering so uselessly behind him… And so, perhaps not unreasonably, it took several moments for it all to sink in.

Ikuto was quiet for a minute or so as he stared quite warily at the scroll in Utau's grasp… But, of course, his hesitation passed over as quickly as a far-off squall - as distant rain clouds, harmless and insignificant on the horizon. And, very quickly, he found himself smirking. Ikuto chuckled - a low, fiendish, chilling sound that so suited the ship he sailed and the garb he wore and all the myth and legend that spread as ripples in their wake.

"Well… I don't think this was meant for us." Ikuto drawled triumphantly, striding over to his sister and swiftly slipping the little piece of parchment from her hands. He held it up to the light, felt the course scratch of the paper beneath his fingertips and he sneered. "It looks like someone wasn't aware of their master's treachery."

And, with that, the atmosphere of the cabin immediately changed. Gone was the tension; cast aside was their despair; no longer was this a place of torment and shadow and all nefarious things alike. No… Now the air was charged, yet it was not with fear - not with frustration. It was charged with excitement; with a spark of new life; new hope. Utau and Kukai and Amu all appeared at once at his side, their gazes flickering from his to the scroll and back again, their breaths held, their interest piqued. He looked at each of them in turn.

And, almost instantly, his smirk was mirrored by each of them as all the possibilities blossomed within their minds.

Without thinking twice, Ikuto ripped off the little black seal.

"What d'you bet this this'll give us a nice little hint?"

~.~.~

A/N: So I finally return and all I can offer you is a quick mostly-filler chapter… I'm so sorry.

But at least I'm back! Thank you for your patience! I haven't had much of a chance to write lately and I'd kind of been hit with a mental block for this chapter. I think it shows. I usually like to rewrite my chapters at least twice before posting them, but I've had no chance to do so and I just wanted to post something! I had no idea what to do because nothing I wrote felt right and I was still rearranging the plans around the beginning constantly. In the end I planned out about four different versions of this chapter before writing it. I think? Oh well, it's here now. I'll probably just revise it once the story's finished or something.

But anyway, as ever, let me know what you thought and I hope you'll look forward to the next update! I'll do my best to get round to it much quicker!