The Betrayed Marionette

by edmelon

A runaway royal. A broken puppet. A missing violinist and a journey laid out in the very stars themselves. Amu has forsaken all to stay by Ikuto's side and now they and the crew of the Shining Black will travel to the ends of the earth in pursuit of the Captain that wronged them. But with the Dark Fortune and Royal Navy close behind, can they ever complete their mission? SST pt II

7. Chapter Seven

The Betrayed Marionette

~.~.~

The Hotori mansion was a bustling hive of activity that morning. Before the sun had even shifted beyond the rise of the headland, the household was stirring; the guards were marching; maids were flitting to and fro with every urgency one could muster, for carriages were drawing up towards the house perhaps every half hour. Men - tall men in crisp, white shirts and deep, sea-blue jackets adorned with golden trims - were passing through the halls and their every move seemed to demand recognition. Certainly a never-ceasing wave of bows and curtseys followed them wherever they walked and Tadase, dressed for the first time in many months in his prized naval uniform, could not have been more pleased to welcome them into his home.

Long had the Commander grown tried and loathsome of the sorry state his mansion had been reduced to with its darkened halls and cold hearths (even his parents - Lord and Lady Hotori themselves! - had spent the winter away in some summer haven down by the southern shores) and so there was a definite spring in his step and a rise in his spirit upon seeing his home once more filled with busy souls bowing in reverence as he passed. Tadase almost dared to hope that his former vigour was back and well again, for the months he had spent idle and brooding had no doubt hindered his health. Yet, as he fell back into this familiar role, things almost seemed normal again.

But, more to the point, this was surely a certain sign that his plan was moving - that soon all he most sought would be finally within his reach… Because these men were not just men. They were his men. They were the finest men of the world's finest naval force. And they were all worth their salt without a doubt.

Things were progressing. Tadase's cape swept soundlessly behind him as he paced the floor of the room, listening attentively to the scribe beside them, feeling warm and comforted as the golden rays of dawn finally breached over the crest of the hills and fell softly against his face. The man was talking finance; a dreary topic to say the least, but Tadase and every other admiral stood here today - gathered in this private study that branched from the famous Hotori library - knew that all had to be in order if they were to voyage before the end of the month. And it was here that, at last, Tadase felt as though the tides were starting to turn. The news of the Shining Black's sighting had been good fortune indeed. It had spread across Seiyo as a flame kindled from that single spark, reigniting his fellows' determination, and now Tadase was certain…

He had all that he needed to finally hunt them down. Hunt them down like the dogs they were and watch those blackened sails slip beneath the waves at last.

It would only be a matter of time.

Beside him, the scribe was still blathering on, scrutinising his papers and shifting his spectacles further up the bridge of his nose as he continued, but at least it was no longer about money. He found a tightly-bound scroll from somewhere amidst the mountain of parchments and presented it to his superior;

"Our colonies have been notified, Commander, sir." he said as Tadase inspected the royal seal on the front. "This was sent to every governor abroad this very morning. They are to reward any sailor within their rule who aids our noble search and spare any naval guard they might to escort us through perilous waters."

Tadase nodded. It was more than he had dared to ask of some (unscrupulous, unwelcoming men some of those governors were), but it seemed that they had not dared defy His Majesty himself, for there at the very bottom of the scroll their was stamped in golden wax the King's seal.

"We shall need their assistance," he said. "Our voyage shall pass through Seiyo territories more often than not. The Holy Crown and her crew are near completion, so I'm told. They shall await us among out outposts in the southern isles." And he glanced up, his eyes falling on a faded, sun-stained map that hung upon the wall, isles and outcrops and southern shores spread like smatters of ink upon the sea. "If the Shining Black truly did visit our south that night… Then we may yet come to lean on those colonists after all."

An admiral to Tadase's left opened his mouth - made to make a comment in agreement of this idea - but, jarringly, it was not his voice that came out. Tadase stilled. The room fell silent, all heads turning as the doors were drawn open by well-dressed servants, their eyes lost in a sudden sea of red and gold… And, finally, against the scarlet coats of the royal guard, Tadase saw green.

"If I may, Commander…" Kairi Sanjou's cool, calculated tone echoed almost eerily off the walls, his glasses glinting gold as he came forth to the crowded desk. "I should not rely on any of those scoundrels on our southern shores." He said. "Not if they are as dastardly as I have heard."

Taken aback and at a loss, there was quiet for a moment. Tadase straightened. Kairi looked almost amused at his expression as he glanced back and forth, peering over his shoulder at the two palace guards still stood as statues in the doorway.

And then, ultimately, the spell was broken.

"A royal advisor?" Tadase hummed in amazement. He placed his parchments down, his footsteps twice as loud upon the floorboards as the men around him faded into the background. Indeed, Kairi Sanjou was an advisor as true and loyal as they came… But, as the Commander had learned long ago, his presence was best suited for perhaps the toughest of situations. There was something brutal about him - something brusque, yet simplistic - to each of his decisions. It was like standing before a well-oiled machine, the way his thoughts and theories all seemed to tick over and into place in his head - all very practical and logical, yes…

But most curiously about him was that he seemed to be the only one able to make the most difficult (and often radical) suggestions when no one else could. The kind of suggestions and strategies that the King himself would be afraid to make. That had toppled enemies. The kind of plans that demanded some reasonable sacrifice for a sense of greater good. Perhaps, in this way, Tadase was grateful to have Kairi on their side. Or, so far anyway.

Stood now in the full light of day, the advisor tipped his head in a casual sort of bow. "Indeed, sir." he said. "Sent by order of His Royal Majesty King Tsumugu himself."

Sensing something with gravity was to come, Tadase dismissed the rest of his men and wordlessly they left, each glancing anxiously over their shoulders, treading lightly past the red-coated guards as they left their Commander behind them.

When Tadase looked back, the doors were closing and the formidable, stern façade of the King's advisor was unreadable. Kairi straightened the ruffles at his neck and brushed imaginary dust off the front of his waistcoat - a fine, delicate garment that looked like moss and positively screamed of wealth as he took a seat in an armchair across the room. There was a pause for a moment when, at last, the Commander dared test the waters.

"What in the world," he began slowly - cautiously; "would require His Royal Majesty to send forth such a renowned aid as messenger?"

Kairi's eye twitched almost unnoticeably beneath his glasses, but in the strong glow of the rising sun Tadase caught it. It was a small victory, if he was concerned. None had ever breached Sanjou's façade before, after all. In all honesty, Tadase hadn't meant it as a jibe (rather curiosity if nothing else), but he watched as the advisor's usually placid expression hardened. He had the distinct impression that the man was counting to ten in his head.

Kairi exhaled, his composure maintained; "His Majesty is currently attending to private negotiations with diplomats from our estranged allies to the east." He said simply. "In light of this latest… 'Incident' involving Her Royal Highness, there is much concern, you understand."

Tadase thought this was something of an understatement at best. Her sudden desertion forgotten, Her Highness had, after all, been a valuable bargaining chip in securing solidarity with their rival empire across the seas. The King had supposed in his desperation that a royal union of sorts would have quelled his adversary's temper - that his daughter would have been the jewel in the crown of their treaty and that all would calm as an ocean breeze at the offering of such a rare and beautiful treasure in exchange for peace… And yet, on reflection, Tadase looked back on this agreement and could not help but feel disgusted. His very being rebelled. Amu was not a bargaining chip. Amu was her own woman and the best hope this country had of prosperity after her father's death. Now that he considered it… How could His Majesty have done such a thing?

Something uncomfortable stirred in his chest and Tadase shoved it wholly from his mind. Kairi was still speaking and he tried to focus as the man continued;

"Quite simply, a new offering must be agreed upon if we are to maintain peace with their King." Kairi went on. Tadase almost bristled at that - 'an offering'- but couldn't find the gall to interrupt. "I doubt Her Highness will be of much worth to their king now. As I understand it, he prefers some manner of compliance when it comes to a suitable partnership."

"Actually," the Commander cut in, trying with all his might to quell his rising ire; "it's my understanding that His Majesty would have had to enter renegotiations anyway." He said stiffly. And, when Kairi just looked at him blankly; "Our King revoked the order. Just before I set off to join the initial search. He revoked his promise to send her away… And promised her to me."

Kairi opened his mouth. Then closed it again. Nothing was said for quite some time and, to his immense surprise, Tadase saw all colour leave the man's face.

"Oh dear." the man uttered. His knuckles had grown white against the armrests of his chair. "Oh dear, oh dear..."

Tadase found this astonishing. "His Majesty never told you?"

Kairi's silence spoke volumes.

"Well…" the Commander swallowed. He suddenly felt quite starved of air. "I'm sure this treaty business hasn't been at the fore of his mind for some time." He said, though he wasn't exactly sure why he felt the need to justify the King's behaviour. Perhaps it was due to some long-lived sense of respect, he thought at first, but, after a time, something about that excuse just didn't sit right. Why should it? Why should he have been so quick to jump back into that old line of defence when but a mere moment ago Tadase had been moved to revulsion?

"His Majesty should not have to bow to meet another king's demands." he said quickly, trying in vain to move his train of thought swiftly on. "Our nation is far greater than theirs. If I were His Majesty, I should not worry about them. I should worry about Her Highness. I should worry about her rescue - as it is, I have made these preparations single-handed! We shall be ready to rally our fleet and sail within the month…" And he paused. Kairi had said nothing for quite a while, but his eyes were glinting, his face stoic, and Tadase became uneasy. He lowered his tone - deathly, dangerously;

"Unless… His Majesty should think otherwise?"

At this, Kairi's lips twitched. Something of a smile was settling on his face. It was quite unlike anything Tadase had ever seen, but he stayed put, waiting patiently as the man apparently considered.

"I must say, your resolve is as inspiring as ever, Commander." the advisor said. "I am sure that His Majesty would be pleased, indeed. But I did not come here to judge your determination, nor inspect the organisation of your fleet."

The Commander frowned, but simply nodded, prompting him to continue. Kairi coughed lightly before continuing;

"But it has come to light that, in recent months, the naval effort to find Her Highness and detain her captors has been… Well, quite simply, sir, this whole pursuit has been considered largely fruitless." Tadase could not quite believe the bluntless of this, but, then again, that was Kairi - as cool and to-the-point as ever. He stayed silent as Kairi stood, pacing towards the desk; "Which is why there have been further efforts to secure Her Highness in recent months. The plans are not fully secured - as with all new ventures, you understand - but His Majesty has-"

"What?" Tadase blurted it out before he could stop himself, but even as the advisor sent him a stony look for the interruption, he didn't think he'd be able to stay silent if he tried. Something hot and fiery was coursing through his veins - something irrepressible; "What do you mean? I was not notified of this, Sanjou! What kind of plans?"

"I am aware." said Kairi. "And, in fact, it is common knowledge amongst those involved that, until the King publicly announces this new scheme before the court, you and your men were not to be notified at all."

Emerald eyes bored into ruby red - a pale, fading ruby red as the sunlight retreated and the heat of the Commander's temper grew pitiful and weak under such a cold and callous blow.

"What is this 'new scheme'?" Tadase whispered, for his chest was now so tight that he didn't think that he would be able to speak any octave louder.

"Ah… That I am afraid I cannot tell you." Kairi sighed. Tadase shot him a furious look, but he paid it no attention. He was circling the desk, his eyes falling over every paper, his fingers trailing against the gleaming, polished wood; "No, I could not possibly break His Majesty's trust. But I thought it only fit to warn you - to, shall we say, spur you on to action given your ceaseless determination towards Her Highness…"

And, just as Tadase was about to snap - was about to launch himself across that very desk and shake the man until he broke and spilled every word he had to offer - the words were taken from his mouth. Because there - with the slightest, subtlest flick of the wrist - Kairi shifted a stack of papers and there - there! - from the cuff of his sleeve slipped a folded, seal-stamped envelope between the sheets. The glint of his glasses was piercing as he rose his head. His lips were twitching again. He stood up straight and adjusted his collar and paced, head high, towards the blond who stood as though frozen, gaping wordlessly, unable to utter but a sound. Kairi came to a stop beside him.

"The King once believed that you were our greatest hope in this endeavour." Kairi said and his voice had dropped to a hush, uncommonly gentle and uncharacteristically kind. "I do not know if his heart has changed… But I understand yours hasn't."

Tadase wondered, as he had often found himself wondering on countless sleepless nights, if it was in fact true - that the King had after all this time began to lose faith in his most trusted naval Commander. The notion had haunted him. It had tormented him - driven him mad in the dead of night. He had eventually come to assume that it could only have been their last meeting that brought on such a change - that his uncontrolled outburst in the palace had perhaps been seen as a blatant rejection of not only Her Highness, but the monarchs themselves. And, as if to cement this theory, Kairi chose that moment to comment;

"It is just… Well… Last we met, Commander, you appeared unwilling to ever lay eyes on Miss Hinamori again."

Tadase swallowed, unable to shake the feeling that he was being tested for something. Finally, he manage to crack a smile convincing enough for his guest, at least.

"Perhaps." Tadase said. "But, trust me, Sanjou, I have never been one to shirk the law."

"You shall follow her then?" Kairi asked and he didn't even pause for a response, for the answer was already clear. "But, you understand, after the example you've made of yourself that His Majesty worries. What then, Commander? When you find her? Understand that His Majesty would like her back in one piece-"

And Tadase spat before he could catch himself;

"I would not harm her."

A pause fell. Tadase forced his mouth shut. His heart was pounding, but he barely felt it. The air in this room was growing too thin again; the flicker of flame in his heart starting to spit;

"No matter how she has wronged us…" he breathed. "She will face her punishment. But not at my hand, sir."

And then, Kairi, for the first time, actually smiled.

"Wonderful."

And, just like that, he was walking past towards the doors - strolling as if on a pleasant summer's day and waving jovially over his shoulder.

"Good luck, Commander. Good luck on your voyage."

Tadase was left, utterly stunned to silence. The advisor's footsteps died away; the sunlight brightened; and there, nestled snugly between two layers of parchment, Tadase's eyes caught the shine of a golden seal glittering teasingly, tauntingly, upon the desk.

~.~.~

By the afternoon of the following day, the Shining Black neared the harbour under the failing light of the setting sun and Ikuto found himself once more thoroughly praising his decision to keep Yaya on-board, for it was all thanks to her that they were headed towards this particular dockside sprawl.

Really, Ikuto had had his doubts about the girl. Sure, she was hardworking and light-hearted and a seemingly boundless source of optimism if nothing else, but that was hardly reason enough to trust her right off the bat, he'd thought. Not to mention that the girl had never sailed in her life! On paper, at least, she should have been utterly useless outside the galley… And yet now, mere days after her arrival on-board the ship, he honestly had no idea where they'd be without her.

It had been early that morning when finally Ikuto realised their new cook's worth - as the sun rose and the ship stirred; as the seaspray glittered under the light of the dawn and all around was bathed in a soft, apricot light; Ikuto stood, pacing restlessly before the windows, glancing furtively at that accursed map upon the desk. Taunting it had sat there through the night, it's riddles and scrawls laid bare beneath the moonlight, and even then in the pale dawn Ikuto had felt that it was no less sinister. It was a mark upon his mind; a dread that even sleep could not stay, for in his dreams he had often grown lost on countless islands where foul things lurked - where the winds howled and the shadows crept and the boom of his stepfather's voice still came ringing in his ears, his laughter cruel and callous…

But then Utau had come waltzing into his cabin carrying an excitable looking Yaya on her arm, her head held high and her gaze triumphant and the Captain had been almost at a loss for words.

"O! O, Cap'n, sir!" Yaya had cried, launching herself towards the desk with a gasp of amazement. "Is this it? The ol' Cap'n's map? Yaya's always wanted to see one in full! Those ol' dogs at the landlord's place got sent bits an' pieces by the man hisself, but, Lord, ne'er a full copy-!"

And all the while Utau had stood behind her, looking on almost smugly, drinking in the sight of her brother's expression as the realisation slowly dawned upon him. His heart quickening - a surge of adrenaline rushing through his veins - Ikuto paced towards the desk and looked the young cook in the eye. In his head, the unbearable holler of the old Captain's voice suddenly ceased - stopped in its tracks as he whispered;

"Can you read it?"

Yaya beamed.

"But o' course!"

He would have to reward that young girl immensely, Ikuto reminded himself, for it had been simply astounding - the way she studied every marking; every inked coast; every unfathomable ideogram and went on without missing a beat:

"Most o' these're marked for supplies," Yaya had said, running the tip of her finger over the various different symbols; "Supplies an' nearby shipping rounds, Yaya would say. O' course most of 'em are useless now. Old this bit o' scrawl must be, Cap'n - His Maj'sty's laid claim to most o' these isles of late, ya see?" - And she'd then proceeded to snatch up a fresh quill from the edge of the desk and blotted out each and every squiggle of land that would be of no use to them. - "The sea is shrinking, sure enough, sire," Yaya murmured; "an' Kazuomi's kingdom has dwindled, 'tis true. His Maj'sty has long been locked in a race for riches with our rivals o'er the ocean…"

And, when she straightened and set down her quill, there were barely a dozen or so islands left marked for them to read, yet there, stood bold against the faded parchment, were circled seven lands - seven circling the dotted line of the equator and by far the fewest in number. Ikuto and Utau edged forwards curiously. Yaya bowed graciously.

"Yaya thinks ya oughta be lookin' about these waters, if ya don't mind my sayin' so, Cap'n!" she had said; "This group here - these isles. All marked with the seal o' gold, they are, an' notorious for ol' pirate tales!"

And so it was. Seven isles. Seven safehouses… And Ikuto couldn't help but think that, had this map been unavailable to them, they would have made for his stepfather the perfect refuge from the world.

Needless to say, Ikuto had been in a thoroughly good mood since making sense of his stepfather's map. In fact, the entirety of the crew were ready and raring to go, but, quite recently it had begun to nag at the Captain's mind that, being set on this seaward endeavour for such an undefined length of time, it would only be so long before they were forced to return to the degrading act of pirating; of preying upon merchant ships that crossed their path; being forced to fire upon innocent men and sullying their ships with their steps all for their own preservation. As it was, their supply of citrus fruit had been steadily waning for weeks now and Ikuto was set on ensuring that they had food and supplies aplenty if only to stave off the inevitable just that little bit longer, for, though it had somehow become his way of life, he did not pleasure in piracy. Given his way, he would have it that his men procure their supplies as legally as they could, but, usually, this was not to be.

Quite thankfully, having a former tavern girl aboard had further privileges. Yaya, as it turned out, had a good head for trade and an outstanding knowledge of Seiyo itself and so when she had entered his cabin that morning proclaiming proudly that she knew of a certain place that wouldn't look twice at the likes of them, Ikuto had been easily swayed into changing course and following her navigations to this little town, tucked away in a cove on the coast of a nearby archipelago.

And so here, as the sun finally set and the last of the cargo was loaded, Ikuto found himself (though, for the life of him, he couldn't explain just how he'd been persuaded here in the first place) sat at a table in possibly one of the roughest, sleaziest taverns he'd ever seen in his life.

It was fair to say that, no matter where you had come from, the shores of Seiyo's southern isles were perhaps the closest you could get to the utter lawlessness of pirate life without actually committing yourself. A hive of wretched scum and debauchery, such villainy could not be seen anywhere else on earth save for only those true buccan havens that still lingered some hundreds of leagues further south, clinging on to existence as creepers to stone, digging the last of their desperate claws into the dirt and sinking into that deep, dark pit of impropriety on which they thrived. They spent their days sat in the sun, laid spread-eagled on the sand surrounded by broken bottles. They gambled in ramshackle, dilapidated little huts half-falling from the mountainside and wasted the last of their wares on the company of disease-ridden strumpets.

A man who wandered any corsair country from east to west would probably find himself cornered and demanded to turn out his pockets at knife-point perhaps every half mile and so it remained truly astonishing that such a place as this - an official colony of His Majesty the King and a prolific port town dating all the way back to the very founding years of Seiyo nonetheless! - so struck the pirates with that heavy sense of familiarity as they made their way through the streets that evening.

The waterfront was lined with brigs and schooners and little sloops of every kind - all sporting flags with the crest of the King, bobbing up and down lazily amongst the quays as they awaited their less than faithful crews. But they were, for the most part, old and tired-looking vessels. A tilted spar jutted out here; a few sail patches there; up and down the line of the docks figureheads stared towards the street, but their faces were worn by the waves and their features were weathered so that they merely stared blankly ahead, formless and shapeless; perfectly, yet eerily smoothed.

But it had to be said that even these sorry crafts were in better shape than the men that sailed them. Really, if Ikuto had not charted their course himself, he would have probably thought that they had indeed turned up at some pirate stronghold. During the short time it had taken he and his small group to wander towards this nearby tavern, he had seen quite enough drunken degeneracy to last him the night. Dim-witted men were laughing and shouting in the street, staggering with bottles in their hands. Homeless folk lay passed out cold in the gutter reeking of rum. Harlots stood at every street corner, winking at anything that passed, ruffling their skirts and flashing teases of stocking when they caught an eye and, if he was being honest, Ikuto was starting to think that it might have been best for him to command that his crew had left immediately upon purchasing their provisions.

It had not taken his men long to procure the supplies that they needed. With a fair bit of gold that they had dredged up from some deep, long-forgotten corner of the hold (it appeared that even the avaricious Kazuomi Ichinomiya had not been able to carry all of his spoils that night he had abandoned them and so earlier that day their boatswain had been absolutely jumping with glee to find a small, oilskin pouch filled with coin, expertly concealed and tucked away between the slats of one of the lower companionways) and an even fairer bit of bargaining, they had managed to more or less fill their hull with food and drink to last them perhaps two to three months at most and they were safe in the knowledge that they had other necessities such as line and tarp to carry out any necessary repairs should the occasion arise. Far more tricky it had been to replenish their magazine. The men of this town were solely merchant sailors, it seemed, and the only thing that really set this place aside from a true buccan refuge was the lack of armaments at their disposal. Powder and lead and shot and cannonballs… They needed them all (especially if they were to believe that Kazuomi was commanding a small fleet), yet it had seemed almost impossible to ask around for such things. The people here were poor and even more poorly civilised, sure enough… But they did not take well to the sight of strangers seeking military-grade weaponry.

In the end, Yaya had somehow managed to sweet-talk a shopkeeper and had inexplicably come away with not one, but an entire list of local men who would discreetly provide for them if they paid well enough. Ikuto had been incredibly impressed. And Kukai was still baffled.

"She's mental!" he'd exclaimed, stood wide-eyed before the Captain's desk, shaking his rusty-coloured head and uttering in awe; "You should'a seen her! Went right up to the guy an' just pulled him into a corner, whisperin' away in his ear - mad eyes an' everythin'! Couldn't tell if the poor sod were enamoured or terrified!"

And all the while Yaya had stood triumphantly in the background, her arms folded across her chest, her nose stuck up high and her eyes sparkling; "Just leave it to Yaya!"

Honestly, Ikuto pondered, what strange company he kept.

But he could do little about that now, he resigned as he shifted uncomfortably in his seat, wishing as he had not done for months to simply slip unseen into the shadows; to merge into the background; to step once more into the dull undertones of this dreary, exhausting life and to never be seen again, for here in this crowded tavern he suddenly felt more on edge than he had in weeks.

The place was fit to bursting. Left and right and just about everywhere in-between men were dancing, hollering, clanking huge tankards of ale together and downing them all in one fell swoop before either passing out or banging on the bar for another. The noise was deafening. The furniture jumped with the beat of the off-key band on the balcony above. The air was hot and thick with pipe smoke so suffocatingly stifling that his head was starting to spin. Perhaps he was already drunk off the fumes from the ale, Ikuto thought drily. If he did even get drunk that night, it wouldn't be from much else. Kukai had slammed a bottle of spirit before him not ten minutes ago and he hadn't touched it. He didn't want to. Across the room he saw a particularly busty barmaid cast an already hammered sailor a cheeky wink and pour half the contents of a bottle of whiskey down the man's throat. Ikuto's stomach turned. He pushed the bottle away from him.

He couldn't deny it. Ikuto had never liked to drink and, even if this had been his preferred way of an evening, he didn't think he could have settled. He thought he'd seen a glimpse of his own face in one of the windows earlier, but they'd passed by too quickly and in his haste he had just shrugged half-heartedly and reassured himself that it had been nothing but a reflection in the setting sun - a mirror image cast in gold and glass in a shopkeep front… But now… Well, it had set him on edge and now Ikuto couldn't help but internally squirm as he sat here, tucked up in this shadowy corner away from the crowd, his skin bristling, the hairs on the back of his neck standing on end. Everywhere he looked he feared he might espy some undefined figure watching him from the darkness - that at any moment some man might cry his name and out of nowhere the firm hand of the law would be upon him, dragging him bodily back to that dirty little cell in which he had lost all hope all those months ago, forcing him to stare down the hangman's noose at last, meeting his very end...

Or was that figure undefined? Was it faceless? Or was it tall? Was it bulky? Was it thick-headed and riddled with muscle and brutish beyond description? Would it take him back to that fated cell or would it take him by the scruff of the neck - have him writhing in its dirty grasp; crying out in a young, shrill voice; dumping him with a resounding 'thunk!' in the shadow of the Captain's cabin and leaving him unto his fate…

Unaware of himself, Ikuto shivered, quaking visibly. His entire body became wracked with chills. What if they were watching him? Watching him as they had done all that time? As they had done for ten long years of his life..?

And, even though he had already been well aware of the dangers posed to him by the long arm of the law, he was suddenly much more uneasy. And with good reason! He had heard there was a hefty price upon his head. He kept his gaze down. Ikuto almost thought to himself then that he might've preferred if this was some raunchy pirate isle. At least then the likes of the navy would have been nowhere in sight.

But, as far as he could see, there were no naval men here. Not tonight, anyway. No, just he and his men and a plethora of drunken sailors all wasting away the night with booze and cards and cheap cigars until it could be said for certain that this was most definitely a dank, dishonourable place to be even for the likes of a pirate. At least they all blended in fairly well with the locals here. (Or, at least, those who had decided to venture on this night out did - Utau and Yaya, for example, and perhaps ten other men had opted to remain behind to guard their ship.) Dressed in drab, dark cloaks and keeping their heads all close to the bar, they were indistinguishable from the regular clientele.

Ikuto pulled his oversized tricorn lower across his forehead, revelling in the shadow that fell across his face and expertly shifting so that the gleaming hilt of his pistol lay buried beneath the fall of his coat. Neither of them fit him very well, it was true. They were merely old things that had been dug up from the hold, but they concealed his figure so perfectly that Ikuto couldn't bring himself to fault them. Besides, if he had come here as himself tonight - if any of these reckless men so much as caught sight of blue or golden stitch or the sharp, white diamond against his brow… Well, the giveaway would have been too much, but, really, Ikuto was starting to think that he could have swung in through the window with Her Royal Highness draped over his shoulder and no one would have noticed. Currently there was a bar brawl of epic proportions spilling out onto the street, attracting sailors from every tavern within the nearest mile, and so not even Ikuto noticed Kukai march over with Amu in tow, scowling as he scrutinised the still-full bottle of brandy in front of him.

"'Sup with you?" Kukai piped up, nodding at the untouched bottle and placing down no less than three tankards of undisclosed contents onto the table between them. "Come on, Cap'n! Drink up, drink up! Last proper bevvy an' all that before we set off in the mornin'!"

"Keep your voice down, Kukai." was all Ikuto said. He glared distastefully at the selection of drinks and shifted again in his seat. The last thing he needed was word of an unfamiliar Captain travelling around. Chances were he'd end up inundated with intoxicated shiphands all begging him for work. "At this rate you'll be too drunk to sail in the morning."

Kukai laughed then, loud and clear even over the growing din, and selected one of the tankards, tipping back his head and drinking deeply. He offered one to Amu who had up until that point been standing somewhat awkwardly beside them. She shook her head quickly, smiling weakly as she watched him shrug and down at a least half of his beverage in one swig. Ikuto bit back an amused grin. She looked so out of place. She had, of course, disguised herself before setting foot from the ship… But, quite by accident, it turned out that her choice of dress had only gained her more attention than any of them would have liked.

The women that occupied this little town were… Well, there was no other way to say it - the women of this place were, for the most part, common harlots. Cheap and diseased and easy enough for a man with enough coin. The only other females they'd seen had been a couple of housewives in the the market square and even they had been more scantily dressed than Amu was that night. Her skirt was full; her dress was black and uninviting; her sleeves went down to her elbows and from there stayed covered under copious white frills. She had secured her distinctive pastel pink locks in a tight, winding bun and covered it beneath the hood of her cloak and, all in all, it wasn't a welcoming outward appearance to these unruly men who seemed to view the fairer sex as nothing more than wandering goods for them to browse at leisure. A few of them had been utterly turned away at the sight of Amu as she tip-toed through the town.

But, then again, there were plenty more who seemed to view it as a challenge. It made Ikuto's blood boil. It made him seethe the way they leered at her; hissed at her; the way their lecherous, greedy little stares positively lit up when she passed them by as if she were some sort of puzzle for them to crack - a prude for them to pervert. He'd heard them comment on her purity; heard them contemplate her age; they questioned whether she was a maid in mourning clad in black and whether they might persuade her to drink enough grog to discover what lay beneath her puffy dress and Ikuto was beginning to fear that he might accidentally end up drawing attention unto himself if they carried on. If he didn't watch his temper that night, he could very well end up in some epic brawl himself. Even at that very moment a skinny, starved-looking man with a salacious glint in his eye swaggered passed and had the balls to stop and leer at the low curve of her neckline, lingering at the way her bodice hugged her breast, and it took Ikuto every ounce of strength to refrain from tackling the man across the table.

His glare was enough though. One deadly glower and the scrawny man quailed visibly. He scampered off with his tail between his legs and Ikuto revelled in his victory. Beside him, Amu didn't seem to have noticed. She was still standing at the edge of the table, glancing over her shoulders, twiddling her dainty fingers and biting her lip in thought. He could just see the apprehension written all over her face. She felt just as exposed and vulnerable as he did, he realised. Whilst Kukai was too engrossed in his mug of ale, Ikuto reached out and took Amu's hand beneath the table. He felt her stiffen - caught her sharp intake of breath - but he ran his thumb across her palm and squeezed it as he pulled her to sit on the bench beside him. Gratefully, she did. Ikuto sidled closer to her. Perhaps the disgusting, dim-witted degenerates of this bar would back off upon seeing her beside another man.

Presently, Kukai slammed his now-empty tankard upon the table and sighed in satisfaction. "Whew, wish me luck, Cap'n!" He said, wiping his lip with the back of his hand. "I got a game set up with a bunch o' lads upstairs. Bet I can make a fine few pennies outta this one, ya reckon?"

Ikuto groaned audibly. Amu shook her head. "Honestly," she said; "the moment you set foot ashore you're already gambling?"

It had been a common article upon Ikuto's takeover of the Shining Black that gambling and games of chance were once more allowed (for Kazuomi had expressly forbidden anything of the sort under his reign), but, in truth, it made little difference. Clothes and food and coin to the value of one common salary could be gambled freely as long as such things came from a man's own personal shares, but the value of those things were often low and it was not often that they had the opportunity to stand at winning (or losing) truly great quantities of gold for themselves. So, really, neither of them should have been surprised that Kukai was jumping at the chance to play cards in a bar, grinning from ear-to-ear, practically dancing on the spot as he said;

"I'll come back a rich man, don't you worry, ma'am!" He said, tipping his hat and bowing exaggeratedly. His cheeks were rosy - his eyes positively glowing with mischief. "All in an evenin's work!"

And with that he turned on his heel, swiping up Ikuto's untouched brandy and swinging the bottle in his grasp. They watched as he began to shuffle off into the crowd, dodging brawling men, sidling casually past staggering sailors-

"Oh, an' Cap'n!" He called, turning back to grin at them over his shoulder as he walked away. "Lighten up! Relax!" And he pointed to the still-full tankards on the table and mimed taking a gigantic swig; "Drink up!"

And then he was off again, laughing loudly. He stumbled through the growing crowd, spilling drinks, pushing past tables, only pausing to grumble and curse at some old, hunched fellow in his way - a man, bent at the waist and draped in a black cloak and… Astonishingly…

"AGH!" Kukai's cries could probably be heard throughout the entire tavern. An almighty scuffle could be heard and a deafening squawk-

Ikuto had to slap a hand over his mouth to keep himself from laughing aloud as he watched the old man try and restrain a gigantic, black bird - a raven, he guessed - from launching itself at the pirate's face. Kukai ducked, knocking over several bottle on a nearby table and barrelling into countless customers as he desperately tried to make his escape, yelling; "Tha' idiot's pet nearly pecked me eyes out!" In the background, feathers were flying, the bird was shrieking… And, at this point, Ikuto could hardly contain himself. He heard Amu sigh, amused, as he descended into cruel laughter.

"And here I thought he was good with birds." Amu muttered, so utterly deadpanned that it only made the pirate beside her chuckle more. "You'd have thought Daichi would've put in a good word for him... Bridged the gap between man and beast, you know?"

Ikuto shook his head, his shoulders still shaking; "He and Daichi," he began teasingly, his voice but a low drawl beneath the clamour of the surrounding bar; "share roughly the same level of intelligence. I don't doubt that raven's got a fair few brain cells on him."

Amu's laugh was bright and airy - as brilliant and crystal clear as a newly-formed spring - even here in the gloom of the tavern; pure and lighthearted amidst the dim light and the sordid haze of pipesmoke; "Does he have enough to win a card game?" she jested. "And here I thought he was coming back rich beyond his wildest dreams."

Ikuto let out something similar to a snort. "Kukai can't win a card game when he's sober." he added in. "He'll be upside-down over the bar singing 'Drunken Sailor' by morning."

Amu scoffed and muttered, sarcastic; "Well 'Yo-ho-ho'."

And Ikuto smirked, finally raising one of the still-full tankards to his lips; "'And a bottle of rum'."

Ikuto grimaced almost immediately upon his first mouthful of drink that night. It tasted like something that had been mixed. If this was what Kukai had been fuelling on all evening then, forget the morning! He'd be out like a light in a couple of hours. He was sure there had been a mixup at the bar and so, quite thankfully, he shoved it away from him, trying to ignore Amu's sniggers as she watched his sour expression.

"So cruel," he commented drily. A smirk spread across his lips as he watched her try to stifle her laughter. "How unladylike."

Amu just grimaced. "Please," she muttered, casting her gaze warily about the tavern. "I don't really think that matters here. Take a look around."

Ikuto didn't need to. At that moment they could hear a strumpet cackling like a witch only a few tables over; across the room a man was passed out cold, his head nestled in his woman's skirts; and, much to his displeasure, Ikuto saw a group of men huddled close together, sneaking lecherous glances in Amu's direction. He shifted himself closer towards her and, satisfyingly, one of them quickly looked away. Ikuto smirked and, overcome by some powerful, protective sort of urge, slung an arm around her shoulder, drawing her into his chest.

Almost instantly, Amu began to squeak;

"I-Ikuto! Wha-What are you-?"

"Sssh..." Ikuto's breath fanned faintly across her cheek and it was all she could do to repress the shiver of excitement that swept up her spine. "You wanted to lay low... No one'll interrupt a gentleman and his lady like this, now will they?"

Amu opened her mouth as if to make some sort of convincing argument, but, humiliatingly, she had none. Positively pink in the face, she shut it quickly and somewhat reluctantly allowed herself to settle into the crook of his arm, her side flush against his. His heart was beating steadily beneath his chest. She could feel it. She could feel it's ceaseless 'thu-bump, thu-bump, thu-bump', constant and comforting against her side and her cheeks flushed all the more. A warm tingle swept over her skin. Her face was hot - so hot that she almost regretted bundling up in such a heavy disguise. Looking away if only to cover her blush, she suddenly became quite acutely aware of the many other couples dotted about the room. There were tens of them amongst the crowd - mostly made up of heavily make-up'd wenches in bright-coloured gowns all hanging off the arms of men too drunk to stand. Those who truly couldn't keep to their own two feet were collapsed on benches or half-leant up against the walls, too busy 'associating' with each other to pay any heed to those around them. She was sure that one couple beside the bar had already gotten into each other's clothes. It was honestly quite sickening…

"At least you're not paying for me." Amu muttered absently, casting a judgemental glance at the brazen displays of affection between a strumpet and sailor only a couple of tables away from them. The woman's neck was marked so fiercely - welts blooming so furiously pink and purple beneath her skin - that at first Amu thought she was diseased. It reminded her more of a bout of scurvy than a manic love-bite.

So immersed in this observation, it was only when Amu felt the man beside her start to shake again that she realised she'd spoken aloud. She clapped a hand across her mouth immediately, blush pink flushing rapidly into rosy red. Ikuto broke out into full-blown laughter at the sight of her humiliation. Honestly, her reactions were priceless! She was so easily swayed by emotion - always so flushed, whether by fury or fear; whether flustered… Her cheeks reminded him of blooming petals - so slight and silky soft; shifting and darkening in pinks and reds of every shade. Her skin was like blossom; her hair carnation; her lips were the darkest, most delectable rosy hues he had ever seen.

But Ikuto knew that her façade could be deceiving. Ikuto knew - remembered even - the ferocity that stirred within. He knew of the blazing heat that burned in golden eyes and so, in his mind, Amu was no mere bloom - no simple, sweet fair-flower. She was fiery and bold and beautiful, but sensitive and kind-hearted - as a red rose with shining thorns.

Presently, Amu's little statement echoed once more in his mind. Yes, they were set aside from all these other couples. He didn't think he'd seen any other honest women in this bar tonight besides her and he couldn't deny that he felt his chest swell oh-so slightly with pride at the notion, for not only was their affection genuine, but priceless too. Ikuto glanced in the direction of the bar (well, 'bar' - it was more like a glorified stack of various kegs, full to the brim with ales and beers and more spirits than he could name) and saw one or two of his own men being propositioned by a group of scantily-dressed strumpets, passing around shots he was sure had no doubt been adulterated beforehand. The women were tittering - cackling more like witches than the coy, enchanting ladies they pretended to be - and their simpers were sickening as they hitched up their skirts, subtly sliding their hems up just that little bit higher, flashing just enough garter to get their attention. The men were enamoured. They looked as though they were floating - their minds carried off on some intoxicating current - as they fell under the strumpet's spell. Ikuto supposed their mind was playing tricks on them. He supposed that they were under the influence of some charm akin to siren's song and truly that was what he saw as he watched them cave, for their lips were the colour of blood; their eyes flashing amidst eyeshadow shimmering as scales; their skirts bright and bold and psychedelic like the poison hues of deadly creatures that dwelt in the tropics further south… These men must have been thoroughly deprived to be enticed to enchantment so pitifully easily.

But, as he watched - as he criticised and wondered and marvelled at the scenes that played out all around him… Ikuto suddenly had a rather devious thought.

Across the room, one of the harlots flashed her skirts again. Ikuto frowned. He turned away from the sight of such blatant debauchery, his eyebrow raised, his lip twitching as he scrutinised the woman sat beside him. After a moment, a roguish smirk spread across his lips.

Amu felt his gaze upon her immediately. She stiffened, shifting uncomfortably under his gaze. She hiked her cloak back over her shoulders for the upteenth time that night and frowned up at the mischievous-looking buccan. There was still a playful gleam in his eyes that made her feel thoroughly scandalised.

"W-What?"

Ikuto did not respond immediately. Something unreadable passed across his face. He was apparently debating the best reply in his head, his eyes unmoving, his smirk unchanging. A few seconds ticked by during which Amu huffed and tried to ignore that piercing gaze… And then, out of nowhere, he whispered;

"You'd look good in a garter."

Amu spluttered, cheeks burning, choking on her own saliva; "W-W-What?" Ikuto's shoulders were shaking again, his chest rumbling. She threw his arm off her shoulders and hissed; "I-Ikuto! Wha-What are you saying?"

He purred, closing the gap between them once again and snaking his arm round her waist; "I'm just saying, Amu, dear-"

She wriggled out of his grasp. "And here I thought you said you were a gentlemen!" she grumbled. "Besides," Amu grimaced, sweeping her eyes over the dreary drinking hall; "Haven't you seen enough skin tonight as it is?"

Ikuto rolled his eyes, his lips twitching again in amusement. Amu felt the quickening of his heart as he drew her once again against his chest; felt the slight of his breath; she inhaled sharply as his lips trailed oh-so-subtly against her cheek in the faintest ghost of a kiss.

"I'm not looking at their skin," Ikuto breathed, his free hand tracing the gentle curve of her jawline in a way that made her heartbeat race, yet would probably sent it pounding if she truly knew the images that surfaced in his memory then. Often he would still receive flashbacks - little hint and flickers of memory. He would find images leaping unbidden in his mind of platinum skin as smooth as silk; of the delicate curve of dainty thighs; and the blush of strawberry pink and Ikuto could not deny that all of a sudden his thoughts and desires became utterly carnal in nature so that often he would have to stop himself - have to slap himself back into the present - and remind himself that his Amu was by far more than an object for him to lust upon.

Of course, it was an entirely natural desire, Ikuto reminded himself, but that was not the point. He was the Captain, for God's sake - a Captain and a gentleman nonetheless - and Amu was no swooning maiden by any means, but, still, she was fair and pure and utterly breathtaking… And she deserved someone better. And Ikuto knew that even if he never would be worthy of such a girl, he would at the very least pretend to be the sort of man she deserved - the sort of man who could control his desires at will.

Yet always it would be some time before he could think straight again… Always it would be a time before he could calm the race of his pulse or the catch of his breath - much less look the pinkette in the eye. Even now as he felt her breathing labour beneath his touch, her skin flushing beneath his fingertips, he was ashamed to say that he had to fight to keep his thoughts wholly pure - had to curse his weak-willed body as he felt his knees grow fit to buckle. It was a good thing he was sitting down. Perhaps this was why women were deemed unlucky aboard a sailor's ship… But for the world he would not change it.

Ikuto swallowed, his throat dry and tight, taking deep and steady breaths as he buried his nose in her hair, growing weak under her spell. "I'm sorry, Amu…" Ikuto began in such an earnest, tender tone that the atmosphere thoroughly changed. Amu blinked up at him, big golden eyes flashing in the candlelight, and, whether knowingly or not, all ire faded away at the sincerity of his voice. Ikuto caught the questioning flicker in her gaze. He sighed. "It's been a while since I've said it…"

Amu's heart fluttered. Her stomach flipped. The former princess shifted slightly in his grasp and parted her lips, but found herself silenced in anticipation, speechless, her heart in her mouth as Ikuto gently took a curl that had freed itself from her bun and absently twirled it about his fingers. He pressed his lips to her forehead. The intimacy sent shivers through her spine.

"What… What are you talking about?"

There was a pause. Another sigh. "I've been... " Ikuto's gaze grew distant as he struggled to find the words. She watched him curiously, at a loss until; "Distracted? Obsessive? I've spent my time preoccupied these past few weeks… And so utterly blind to everything you've done for me."

Amu blinked. Once, twice - three times before pulling away, her mouth open, but no words came out. They welled up in her chest and raced to her lips only to die on her tongue so that, in the end, she could only stammer; "D-Don't-Don't be ridiculous! Besides…" - a small hint of a smile played upon her lips. In her head there played out images of far-away shores and the sun on the sand and the blissful glow of the moon on the water as a string of symphonies she'd never heard wove about the evening breeze before her. In her mind, she indulged in fantasies of a life of peace where naught but a world of boundless freedom stretched as far as the sea itself and, reveling in this world, she smiled fondly;

"In the end…" Amu said; "It'll all be worth it."

Ikuto didn't usually think too much of this, but here, caught up under the influence of Amu's unwavering optimism, a rare, soft smile dawned upon his face.

"When this is done," he whispered; "you and I will have all the time in the world."

And then, as if by a change of the wind, the atmosphere changed. She felt a hand slide over her hip. Another brushed against her thigh. She held her breath and in the back of her mind she faintly realised that if anyone were to look over at them now, no would would dare interrupt this gentleman and his lady as Ikuto swept his lips down the side of her neck. Amu felt him smirk against her skin;

"But, until then…" His tone was low, the rumble of his voice tugging at something in her chest Perhaps I can make it up to you..."

Seductive. Teasing. Temptingly, Ikuto's voice sent her heartbeat into a frenzy - sent her train of thought straight down into the gutter to roll about with the drunks - and yet, for a second, she didn't care. For a second she felt some new pull in her chest; an almighty tug in her gut; felt a rush of unbidden excitement and, as if to seal it as a promise, Amu dove; wrapped her arms about his neck and pulled him closer to her chest, leaning in for a sweet, subtle kiss…

And then she stopped.

Something had changed. Amu froze as if met by some invisible barrier and backed away. Ikuto watched a variety of unreadable emotions pass over her face, but frustratingly he couldn't name a single one. Ikuto was about to look concerned when she choked;

"I… I-I think I need air."

And Ikuto, completely dumbfounded, could do little more than watch as she fled from the table, tearing herself from his grasp and weaving her way across the tavern. His heart fell. A stirring of bitter, self-loathing unsettled his stomach. Ikuto sat and scowled openly as, just at that moment - as he was resigning himself to once more slipping into the shadows and scolding himself in silence - none other than Kukai appeared through the thick, heavy cloud of smoke and sidled over to the table. He passed Amu briefly as she came. She didn't even stop to acknowledge him.

"Man," Kukai said once he'd taken his seat. He took a swig from the bottle in his hand and slammed it back down onto the table. "What's got her so pissed?"

Ikuto sent him such a fearsome glower that any other man would have recoiled on the spot, but, much to the Captain's dismay, Kukai just laughed aloud.

"Ah, man!" he guffawed, wiping tears from the corners of his eyes. "What d'ya do?"

"Come back a rich man?" Ikuto snapped, deliberately trying to sway the topic of conversation. Fortunately, it seemed to work.

"Fine," Kukai said; "don't tell. An', I'll have you know, Ikuto, I'm just a dab hand at cards as I ever was! That fella hustled me! But I'll win big next time, Cap'n, don't you worry!"

Ikuto just rolled his eyes. "I'm not." he said flatly and he averted his gaze away from this crewmate. In the background, he heard the young pirate sigh and take a gulp of his drink and they stayed this way for some time - submerged in an uncomfortable, tense sort of silence whilst the calamity of the bar raged on all around them. When Ikuto turned away, Kukai's eyes were boring in to him, his brows drawn tight together - looking to be concentrating pretty hard for a guy with no brains, Ikuto mused absently. He glanced at the Captain. Then off towards the bar. Finally, he sighed;

"Ah, it can't've been that bad, right?" And, when Ikuto raised an eyebrow in question; "Whatever ya said to Amu."

At this, Ikuto at last cracked something of a smile. He chuckled half-heartedly, though he didn't really know why. Perhaps, just this once, it was better to give Kukai the benefit of the doubt. "Sure," he replied unconvincingly, but it was enough to light up the young pirate's face.

"That's the spirit!" Kukai beamed. "Now come on, ya stick in the mud! Drink up! Make the most o' the night while it's young!" He picked up his bottle of grog and held it aloft; "Cheers, Cap'n!"

And, reluctantly, Ikuto reached for his drink. "Whatever, Souma."

~.~.~

However, as the night wore on, the Captain almost began to regret taking Kukai's advice because, really, he realised now that it had all been just a ploy on that idiot's part to get himself as drunk as possible. Kukai had absolutely no sense of self-restraint when it came to any sort of occasion. Even now the young pirate was singing off-key for all to hear, sloshing brandy on the tables as he jigged on a makeshift stage;

"Farewell and adieu to you, foreign ladies!

Farewell and adieu, ladies abroad!

For we've received orders,

for-to sail to old Seiyo,

and we may ne'er see you fair ladies again-!"

Ikuto watched from afar, resisting the urge to plug his fingers in his ears, for it was a wonder that his pirate friend (or any of them, in fact) could hold a tune, but at least the mood was light. The lanterns glowed in a soft, warm light. A fiddler was playing; boots were stomping; the strumpets were clapping and the sailors were singing, raising their drinks as Kukai burned on;

"Let ev'ry man drink his full glass!
For we'll drink and be jolly,

and drown melancholy,

wi' a health to each jovial an' true-hearted soul-!"

And, absently, Ikuto took a half-hearted drink from a dusty-looking bottle of liquor and scowled at the mass of people gathered about the bar. His head was starting to throb in-time with the constant beat. He eyed up the line of empty bottles and tankards beside him and almost contemplated throwing one into the rabble, but he caught himself just in time. He knew he was just irrationally out of sorts. He knew he was just a- What was it Kukai had called him? A 'miserable old dog' that oughta lighten up? Well, something like that, anyway, and for a while he had sort of tried. He'd drank when instructed and laughed with a couple of crew mates, but, though the beat was distracting and the drinks were flowing, Ikuto's mind was wandering - wandering back to the heat of soft skin and the hush of hitched breath; his spine was tingling; his blood surging…

And then something unpleasant resurfaced, nagging away at the back of his mind.

'I am a gentleman,' he told himself and, just for a moment, he thought perhaps that it wasn't the memory of Amu's touch that had his blood so hot because under the heavy, intoxicating scent of smoke and liquor he felt his resolve begin to crack, wavering, giving in to that little voice in the back of his head that only said; 'But you're a pirate-'

'I am a gentleman.' he reiterated, firmer now, and sent a furious glance at his fellow crewmate who was still dancing idiotically on the bar, now locked in a rendition of an old sea-song probably too buccan-worthy to be sharing with the local throng. - ("An' but one man of her crew alive; What put to sea with seventy-five-!") - He should have known better than to accept anything Kukai gave him to drink. When he was fourteen, the two of them had raided the hold and shared something so inexplicably strong that he'd blacked out almost a whole week of his memory and his stepfather had swung him from the bowsprit for the inconvenience.

Back in the present, Ikuto sighed heavily. He'd been meaning to find her - had been searching the crowd for her all night to no avail - if only to somehow settle that sense of guilt that still stirred away in his gut, for he couldn't brush the nagging doubt that he'd done something out of line - was worried that he'd in some way upset her - but Amu had disappeared like a breath of fog. He scanned the tavern. His men were singing and laughing and taking turns to share sea-songs with the sailors; candles were flickering; booze was flowing; a clamor rose beside the bar just as his gaze swept over it and Kukai stopped in his tracks, though the tune was carried on by several others, and clumsily staggered back to the floor looking as though he could barely stand. Ikuto saw him scamper away with a group of men he didn't recognise and take a seat at a rounded table in the corner. Ah, another card game then, he realised. Well, that would keep that fool busy for the rest of the evening, but he was soon distracted. His attention was caught by a string of drunken laughter and he watched as a rosy-cheeked couple, practically tripping in each others' arms, scampered hurriedly up the stairs when he remembered…

'Air.'

'Air', Amu had said. He thought he'd seen open shutters and a little row of chamber windows up on the first floor as he'd passed the building through town. Where else could a lady find respite in such a place?

Ikuto took one last look at the bottle in his hand. He emptied the thing in one go - far too wrapped up in the music and the memory and the buzz beginning to wash through his veins to care that the foul liquid stung his throat or made his vision fuzzy - and pushed his way through the crowd.

He found her on a balcony upstairs - in one of the disused bedrooms that might have been quite homey once, filled with warm candlelight and the scent of fresh lavender judging by the dried-up remains in the vase on the vanity, but had since fallen into a miserable state of disrepair, reduced to nothing more than a temporary workspace for the wenches that frequented the bar. But the night was cool and the air refreshing, laced with the tang of salt and the crisp, fresh fragrance of the inland breeze, and so Ikuto found the awkward walk past the wenches' chambers more than worth it as he caught that smudge of pink illuminated against the darkened sky. Amu leant on the balcony railing, overlooking the sprawl of the town and the gleam of the moon on the distant sea; her hood was down, her hair dancing gently about her cheeks, and her expression seemed so serene that he almost regretted disturbing her.

"You shouldn't be alone up here," Ikuto began, more confidently than he felt. He saw Amu jump slightly on hearing his voice, blinking as though pulled from her own little world. "There's plenty of unsavoury characters about." And a grin spread across his lips; "Remember where we are, Your Highness."

There must have been something funny in his expression, or maybe it was the teasing lilt in his tone because, inexplicably, Amu barely stifled a burst of laughter. Ikuto's smile widened in amusement as he watched her clamp a hand over her mouth, her shoulders shaking, and only then did he notice;

"Amu, have you been drinking?"

The former princess blinked and looked down at her feet. There was a small bottle of rum discarded on the ground beside her. "Only a little," she said, holding it up before the light and sloshing its contents around inside for him to see. "You know, it's awful stuff! Even ours is better! I can't even finish it."

Amu held it out then, letting the surface of the glass shine in the light of a nearby candelabra and Ikuto took it as an invitation. He sidled over to the balcony, examining her face as he swished the rum in thought. Her cheeks were rosy and her eyes sparkling, but she didn't look drunk to him. Rather, Ikuto wondered if a few swigs of rum had just loosened her up because she was acting as though nothing had even happened and she did look remarkably relaxed, smiling down at the twinkling lights of the sleepy town.

Deciding that he didn't want to lose his grasp of reality (because, honestly, whatever Kukai had served him was more than enough), Ikuto didn't touch the liquor for a while. "Amu," he stalled; "where'd you even get this?"

Amu shrugged as if it were no big deal. "Room next door." she said simply. "Some sailor tried to pay his wench in rum. She stormed out; left it all behind. Figured 'why not?'"

Ikuto laughed lightly and took a small drink before proffering it back to her. "Better drink up."

"Captain," Amu tried to sound appalled, but she could barely contain herself - could barely stop the teasing grin spreading across her lips as she eyed the bottle in his hand; "are you trying to get me drunk?"

Feeling that familiar, playful spark alight between them, Ikuto suddenly felt brave. He decided to test the waters.

"That depends." He smirked. "Do I have to?"

Ikuto had half-expected the woman next to him to huff or shy away at the low purr of his tone, but, to his delight, Amu looked almost sly. She took the bottle from his hands and allowed herself a tiny drink. "So you can… What was it? 'Make it up to me'?"

Ikuto hummed as if in thought, deliberately brushing beside her arm as he leant onto the balcony rail. "Maybe. If Her Highness asks nicely." He teased.

She considered this for a moment. A flicker of doubt crossed her face.

"S-So…" Amu began tentatively. "How would you want to… To make it up to me?"

A silence fell and Amu's lingering question hung thick in the air between them. All too quickly the gentle evening breeze was gone. Reeling, Amu tried to take a gulp and found her breath too shallow. Ikuto looked about to respond, but caught himself just as fast, though a sparkle of something shone bright in his eyes. She stammered;

"N-Never-Never mind-!" Amu cursed herself, growing pink again. "I-I don't-don't know why I asked that…"

Amu trailed off uselessly, averting her gaze back to the view from their balcony, and, as Ikuto watched her shift restlessly, he almost thought he understood. When he closed his eyes, he at once found himself not here on this balcony - not in an empty chamber atop a sleazy tavern. No… For the briefest of moments, Ikuto found himself back in the middle of a fiery square, squinting in the light of the torches, bruised and bloodied and beaten to his knees and between the two of them there shone that beacon - the noble figure, golden and pure - and when he tapped his staff on the cobblestones the earth seemed to shift. A line was cut across the earth. And Amu was beyond a barrier he could not breach. And still, although they had fled from that world altogether, in Ikuto's mind she often still shone in a regal light to which he could never compare.

Only Ikuto had never supposed she'd seen it too.

'Yes…' Ikuto told himself. 'Yes, I might be a pirate… But I am a gentleman.'

Did she think him a scoundrel? A real rogue? When he teased her so suggestively did she truly fear he meant more than jests? It had always been a part of their banter, sure, but, now that he considered it, the thought was unsettling.

"Are you uncomfortable?"

Was she?

"No."

A wave of relief passed over him. Amu calmed and sent him a reassuring smile and almost instantly the air was cleared, free and light again, yet still there lingered something distinctly different between them then as Ikuto inched towards her. It was like the swell before a tidal wave; like the brief little sparkle of a newly-lit flame; it was something like anticipation, yet thrilling - exciting! Something that made the flutter in her heart transform into leaps and somersaults as he took her gently by the chin and brushed her jaw with the pad of his thumb.

"I must say…" Ikuto whispered, looking pleased as she held her breath and marvelled at the glorious evening sky mirrored in his eyes; "There are times when I find you far too tempting…"

His fingers trailed south and and came to rest at the curve of her waist. Amu let out a short breath of laughter as she found herself pulled into his embrace when he spoke.

"I was worried when you left me back down there."

Her answer was immediate;

"Don't be."

Amu's hands were wandering now, trailing the golden stitching down the front of his coat distractedly, up the rim of his collar and down the side of his neck, biting at her lip as a warmth coursed through her veins. And it must have been the rum, she decided, making her throw all caution to the wind, letting down her inhibitions because, now that they were alone together, Amu couldn't help herself;

"And…" Amu breathed; "How shall I make it up to you..?"

Amu quietly triumphed as Ikuto blinked down at her, taken aback. He hummed again, leaning down towards her ear; "Well… I think a kiss will do for now."

And now, she understood. It was definitely the rum because Amu realised then, as she pulled away and took in Ikuto's grin that that she didn't want a sweet, chaste kiss - a simple plant on the cheek or a peck on the mouth. Amu wanted to mark his lips in a scalding, searing kiss until she could barely think straight; until all proprietary was completely disregarded and all else faded into the night until there was nothing save for them and these little chambers and their lips intertwined.

'A kiss for now'? She didn't think just a kiss would do. Amu couldn't explain it. She'd never wanted anything of the sort before - even with him, for all the kisses they'd shared together - and yet here… Here it didn't seem to matter. She was under some enchantment. There were sparks in the air, glowing like fireflies against the night, and she was intoxicated in Ikuto's arms, drinking in his very being like a woman parched of thirst. Oh, how her family would grieve to see her now - ready to melt away in the arms of a pirate - but there was alcohol in her veins and a boldness in her blood and as her fingers curled tight around the front of his coat they were inching closer, their breath ghosting across each others' lips; her eyes were closing, giving in to the ceaseless tug-tug-tug that pulled her heart to his…

And then the spell was broken.

Amu snapped her eyes back open and jerked away before it even happened. All of a sudden the tavern had returned; the abandoned bedroom had returned; the smoke and the smell and the ungodly racket-

An almighty bang and the shatter of glass broke cleanly through the clamour, renting the night even up here on their little balcony. Two two pulled away, leaping on the spot as the impact echoed in the air and glanced worriedly at each other before sprinting for the door.

There was a walkway outside Amu's dilapidated chamber and the two found themselves gazing over the rail and unto the tavern hall below. The din had abruptly died; a collective hush fell about the room. The two of them turned back to face the bar and, simultaneously, their hearts sank. Kukai was stood at a table with a group of unfamiliar men, utterly inebriated, his cheeks red and his hands held up in surrender. Cards were strewn across the floor; bottles lay broken at their feet; the candle in the little lamp flickered dangerously as one man hollered;

"My money back, Souma! Hand 'em over an' per'aps I'll let ya off, ya stinkin', no-good, cheat!"

"Oi, oi, oi!" Kukai was slurring uselessly; "I won that game fair an' square-!"

"THIEF!"

The following few seconds where an unfathomable blur. One moment the two men had been stood metres apart and the next Kukai was pinned to a table, struggling weakly against the strength of his rival's little group of allite. One reached for a broken bottle and lunged towards him, but one of their crewmates appeared from nowhere and decked him straight across the jaw. Suddenly sailors were yelling; bottles were flying; and before Amu could so much as recognise that they were headed straight for a full-scale bar fight, the dreaded cry rang out across the room;

"He's a pirate!" Some dirty snitch yelled. "A pirate!"

And, well, that was that.

The entire tavern descended into chaos.

"Looks like we've outstayed our welcome!" Amu cried out over the clamour, but Ikuto didn't hear her. As the locals ran riot down below, Ikuto grabbed her by the arm and gestured back the way they'd come…

But then, as they glanced back one last time over the railings and contemplated their escape route, Ikuto caught a flash of his own face on a poster behind the bar. He paled. His body became rigid, his feet planted to the spot. Amu followed his gaze and felt her heart drop dead in her chest. She whisked him away from the balcony edge and took his hand; "Come on, come on!" she hissed. "Time to go!" And the two of them fled back down the narrow corridor, trying to remember which direction they'd come up in the first place, dashing past the rows and rows of occupied chambers towards the stairs only to be stopped briefly by a frantic barmaid who at once turned white and hollered at the top of her lungs upon seeing their faces. They ignored her. In fact, at first they thought nothing of her, for she turned on her heel and locked herself in an empty room, but by this time that single, word that sealed their fates - 'pirate!' - had travelled like a tidal wave about the tavern and disgruntled sailors in hastily recovered clothes were emerging from the bed chambers, their eyes landing the pink glow of Amu's head beneath the candlelight.

Deafening the uproar might have been, but even Amu heard the foul curse that left Ikuto's mouth. And it was probably justified, too. Perhaps five able-looking opponents had joined them, their faces pale with recognition, but their eyes determined and blazing as they realised what a potential goldmine they had stumbled upon. Amu had absolutely no time to think before the first punches were thrown, but it was a good thing she had Ikuto on her side. He was light on his feet and with all the skill and agility of a natural, he'd evaded one blow - two; three! - and sent one charging man headfirst over the balcony edge. Amu didn't even have time to hear him hit the ground because, before she could so much as reach for her concealed dagger, Ikuto took her by the waist, slumped her over his shoulder and made a wild dash down the corridor.

"IKUTO!" Being hoisted in an unflattering fireman's hold had certainly not been on her agenda for tonight. She thwacked him roughly on the back of the shoulder. "Put me down, you ruffian!" Even in the havoc wreaking all around them, Amu she heard him chuckle.

They were racing now. The heavy steps of their assailants had the floorboards jumping beneath their feet. Metallic 'clang!'ing down below signalled the start of at least a dozen deadly sword duels. Somewhere off to Amu's left, she thought she felt a rush of warmth and was at once alarmed to think that maybe some of the lantern lights had spilled over, flicking flames across the wooden beams that held up the entire floor above. Ikuto tried desperately to glance back over his other shoulder and was relieved to watch his weary opponents slip behind. The maze of rooms and balconies was clearing; he could see the top of the staircase; could just feel his fear receding as he took that first downward step…

And then, out of nowhere, a shot was fired.

The bullet swept the hat clean off his head. The plaster on the wall beside him crumpled and fell into his face. In the shock his footing was lost…

They fell.

Ikuto felt Amu slip from his shoulder as the two of them went tumbling down; he grit his teeth as his ankle caught beneath his feet; his cranium smacked sickeningly on the edge of the steps and, for a moment, all went dark. Amu barely caught herself, gripping onto the bannisters so tightly that the whole thing shook like a yard in a gale, and hauled herself to her feet when she heard that dreadful 'thwack!' sounding some steps down. She felt the force reverberate through the wooden steps. She smelt iron. Amu gasped aloud and scurried over. Ikuto was lying limp, face-down at the foot of the staircase. When she rolled him onto his back blood trickled freely down the side of his face and she hastily tore a bunch of frills from the end of her sleeve and pressed it to the gaping wound above his forehead.

When Ikuto came to, no more than a minute could have passed and Amu was shaking him roughly by the shoulder, yelling frantically mere inches from his face, but the words were drowned out by the ringing in his own head. His vision was blurring and his consciousness once more fading, but even he in his sorry state could recognise the flash of sparks; the flare of orange; the almighty 'crack!' of gunfire as the first following shots of the night were fired. He sat bolt upright, ignoring the unbearable wave of nausea and blinked. The barmaids were shrieking; the harlots were ducking behind the bar; sailors and pirates and just about every man in-between were hurling themselves across the tavern hall, shooting or punching or drawing daggers and knives, throwing themselves bodily into the fray.

Amu's words finally reached him; "We have to go!"

And just in time too, for at that very second a bottle exploded inches above his head. Amu ducked instinctively.

"Come on," Ikuto stood and drew his pistol. Hazy his vision might have been, but he caught sight of the man with the bottle soon enough. He was picking up a heavy tankard and attempting to clout Kukai (who was currently writhing on the bloodstained floor) in the face with it. With a cloud of smoke and a shimmer of sparks, Ikuto shot the man dead. He tried not to slip on the pool of his own blood as he and Amu raced over to their fallen companion.

"Come on, Kukai!" Amu said loudly. "Up you get! Time to go!"

"Amuuu-!" Kukai cried in delight, red in the face and smiling giddily. "Ya've come ta save me-!"

Ikuto gave him no time to protest. He wiped the blood from his left eye (for no other reason than to share a particularly withered look with Amu) and in a matter of seconds they had him up on his feet, leaning heavily between them with his arms over their shoulders. "Get up, idiot-" - (he paused to fire a second bullet into the face of a new assailant) - "or I'll keelhaul your sorry ass!"

Unfortunately, Kukai was utterly useless. He probably couldn't have even sat up by himself if he'd tried and so, with just one free hand each to defend themselves, Ikuto and Amu were forced to rely on their own crew to hew them a safe path through the rallying locals. More had rushed over from neighbouring taverns, so they'd heard. There were men in the streets shouting about pirate ships, apparently. Some of their own allies had even made off and fled back to the Shining Black the second the first punch was thrown and Ikuto made a mental note to list the names of all who had so cowardly ran and abandoned their crewmates. He'd have to think of some suitable punishment later on, but for now it was all he could do to keep on his feet as they (with great difficulty) managed to shove their way through the masses and make a break for it into the night, for there was no chance of fighting for themselves with Kukai slumped between them. They could see through the glow of many inn windows that their protective crewmates had escaped safely with them. They were racing ahead through the streets - down towards the quays - looking fearfully over their shoulders, stumbling over their own two feet. Even with Kukai's dead weight, the pair of them willed themselves to go faster. By the time they reached the docks, their drunken burden was half-asleep, his feet dragging in the dirt as they lugged him over the gangplank.

Utau, who had remained behind to keep ship that night, was seething. "What the hell happened?" she cried. Even here beside the seafront, Amu was sure they could still hear the distant echoes of gunfire, but it was still far off and she breathed an incredible sigh of relief when she saw the crew get to work. Better to put some distance between them and the mainland for a long, long time. On seeing the state of Ikuto's face, Utau looked aghast. "Ikuto! What ha-"

Ikuto, who was by this point squinting through one bloodied eye and slightly swaying on the spot, let Kukai drop drop face-down on the companionway with an almighty 'thud!'. "Blame this idiot." He spat and he shook his head if only to keep himself from slipping away for just another minute.

Utau was seething. "You should make for your cabin, you complete lightweight... I can take us from here."

By this time, the sails were full and the little, dockside town was slowly waning from their sight. Perhaps if they'd been in more peril, Ikuto might have fought her, but he was too spent. Breathing heavily, he just watched in silence as Utau flounced off across the deck and leant his weight upon the bulwark. Great, dark spots were blooming before his eyes. His vision was swimming. He didn't notice Amu's look of concern; couldn't hear her voice; couldn't feel her touch... Yet not one of them - not a single soul amongst them on board the Shining Black - noticed the rugged black bird, lazily circling their ship as they drifted out to sea, swooping as a cloud to black out the stars and making off towards the shore in the distance, the moonlight a deathly glint against its beak and a small roll of parchment bound to its foot.

~.~.~

A/N: This was probably way too long a chapter, but I don't want to drag this story out any more than I have to and also because I feel ridiculously guilty about my late updates.

Plus the sooner I get to some adventure the better. I'm very excited to write about these islands! It's feeling more and more like a pirate fic.

I feel like my amuto's getting rusty. I'm unused to writing romance without angst lmao, so please, let me know how I can improve! Thanks for reading ~