The Betrayed Marionette

~.~.~

The crew were gathered about the deck, all craning their necks over the sides to catch their first glimpse of the isle they had so long searched for, but were wholly silent. Amu's mind was reeling. As if by fate they had been guided to it; led to it; picked up by the sea itself and dropped from high above right onto their proper course, but somehow, as they drew ever nearer, it seemed to them that the haze only grew thicker. The wind grew sharper - more startling. It was almost as though the island could feel their presence; could sense their approach and saw fit to rebel against their cause as they inched onward, for it was then that the sea grew uneasy beneath their hull once more and the Shining Black began to stumble, unimpressed, already at her limit having faced the full force of their night's battle with the elements.

Ikuto looked almost sympathetic as he paced the deck, glancing warily at the groaning lines above and praying silently that she would hold out long enough for them to make it to shore. Even Amu, who still knew so little about the intricate workings of such a grand vessel, knew that they would have to somehow make it to land in good time if they were to keep her from falling into disrepair. The men had tried what they could, of course, but they had been expressly forbidden from climbing the masts until they were safely aground. The ropes were still too slippery, Kukai had said when Amu had caught him eyeing up a twisted yard, and, more to the point, their crewmates were too weak.

This island then would have to be their salvation. As much their refuge as it had been Kazuomi's… But Amu had never seen anything so far from it. She had often thought that this way of life offered unto her a small bubble of freedom - a little sanctuary of their own where there lay nothing save the ship and the sea and their own free spirits, spared from the workings of the world beyond. Aboard the Shining Black, their isolation was their respite. But this place… This place felt more like a trap. This place looked to be the sort of land where that lack of contact became a curse; where no one could hear you cry for help; where a person might wander until their feet grew lost and their head became weary and under the watch of the eternal mist they would vanish from all memory - fading out of knowledge and disappearing forever from the world itself. In some ways, it looked to her almost akin to some of those misty, oriental scenes from far-flung lands that she'd watched her mother's maids hang up in the palace library… But here -in the very midst of these boundless waters - it felt extraordinarily out of place. And that, for whatever reason, was unsettling.

Amu thought briefly, as she watched that isle rise out of the sea, that the apprehension in her heart was not solely her own. The atmosphere lay as tense as the fog that enshrouded the shore as they neared the sand. The crew worked silently, using but the bare minimum of sound they could get by on, and to Amu this set their newest expedition off to the most troubling of starts, for these men had long learned to live with a spring in their step and a song in their hearts, yet here they shrank, sullen and silent back into their steps, quailing as they had not done since under their former Captain's reign. But Amu thought she understood. She supposed that that old shadow had begun to creep over their spirits once again now that they inched so close to that reminder of their old foe.

Certainly she felt for them. Nervously, she chanced a look in Ikuto's direction. His brows were narrowed, his gaze never leaving that little outcrop which grew greener and greater with every yard they gained towards its shores. They had planned to draw up close enough to weigh their anchor without becoming beached. Of course, they would have to run her aground eventually if they were to make repairs, but until they knew what lay ahead, it would be useful to have their ship waiting at a safe distance.

Only it was then that they hit a nasty surprise. The ship jolted suddenly beneath their feet and an almighty 'crunch!' sounded from somewhere far below. Just about every man's face paled visibly. In the dim light, none had realised that, just beneath the surface of the water, there lay an unexpected rise in the seabed - a wide, sandy ridge leading straight up to the land itself. A particularly tired, thin-looking man came to report the news to their Captain, but Ikuto barely moved. Amu had the impression that he was deep in thought, bracing himself for whatever might await them on those misty tides beyond. She stepped closer towards him and convinced herself that she felt him calm even though the rocky peaks stretched high above them; even though the hiss of the sea grew deafening and sinister in their ears; even though, as the crew stood along the bulwark and peered out at the murky land beyond, they suddenly felt as though they were not alone.

But, after a while, they saw nothing. The greenery moved with the wind. The foam rolled in with the tide. Somewhere in the background, a bird that they didn't recognise was cawing shrilly as if in protest of this abysmal weather, but nothing more was amiss. Eventually, Ikuto left Amu's sid and marched towards the gangplank. He inspected the waves beneath them. The water was deep enough, yet close enough to land that a man might swim if he had the strength, but, no matter how the crew might wade ashore, the Shining Black would still sit stranded some yards from the island itself.

Finally, he drew his spyglass from beneath his coat. "Ready the longboats." Ikuto said, not loudly, but his voice appeared to echo about the deck after such a long period of silence. "All of them. And pass out arms." And then quietly to himself; "Just in case…"

The crew obeyed swiftly, their 'Yes, sir!'s breaking through the lull. Ikuto was still scrutinising the dark face of the isle from afar when Utau marched up to him, draping a miraculously dry musket over her shoulder and squinting through the mist.

"Anything ashore?"

For a moment Ikuto didn't answer. His attention was wholly on the land ahead of them, his brows knitted together in apparent concentration. Eventually he snapped his spyglass shut; "Trees, trees and more trees." He teased, chuckling lowly. "What? Didn't think this would be that easy, did you, little sister?"

Utau didn't seem amused. "It looks uninhabited. If Kazuomi were really here, I'd expect to see something of him. A ship. Campfire smoke… Something, at least."

Ikuto proffered the spyglass to her. "No matter. We'll scour this island." He said firmly. "Have a lookout set up in the crow's nest. If he's here we'll find him."

By this time, the crew were lowering the last of their little vessels overboard. All eight longboats bobbed unsteadily on the water, the waves writhing and foaming beneath them as they crashed towards the shoreline. All prepared and armed to the teeth, the crew gathered beside the gangway and, whispering anxiously between themselves, began to descend down the side of the ship. Eight men there were to a single boat and fewer were to be left behind to keep the ship in-check. Amu was just edging towards the bulwark, subtly reaching for a sharpened cutlass when Ikuto stopped her in her tracks, his expression utterly forbidding. For a brief moment, Amu felt her blood burn - felt her very being practically scream in indignation…

But just at the last moment - just as the last of her long-lasting patience was about to wither away - she stopped herself.

Ikuto's eyes were sunken, rimmed by grey as the clouds above. His cheeks were white; his shoulders just barely starting to sag at the prospect of some new and unnecessary fight at this of all moments. There was something about the draw of his breath; the crease of his brow; the dull blue of his eyes as they stood, eyes locked in conflict when Amu considered… Kazoumi was potentially within reach. And the shadow of his horror was creeping back upon their spirits and it was then that Amu realised.

Ikuto needed to do this. And, having lived in anticipation of this very day for longer than any of them combined, he needed to do this his way.

And so, begrudgingly, Amu bit her tongue, looking up at his pale face with the most encouraging gaze she could muster.

"Go get 'em, ruffian."

Ikuto's response seemed caught between determination and relief. He slammed the hilt of his cutlass into his belt and, for the first time in days, Amu saw the flicker of something familiarly sly flash across his face. Ikuto brushed a flyaway curl from her cheeks.

"Take good care of the crew for me."

For fear that anything to come out of her mouth now would sound but wholly unconvincing, she simply nodded, but it was good enough for him. Reluctantly, unhappily, Amu stepped back.

Ikuto had not the time nor the desire to relish in this little victory. For the island was before him. And he was headed to shore.

~.~.~

The sound of the surf was almost deafening. The coast was grey and stony. In the air the taste of spray lay so tangible, so strong that the salt could have hung crystalline about the air, glittering and winking, suspended amidst the starry dew-drops of the rolling fog that had been swept asunder by the sea, and so, wet and chilly and straining against the oars, the first few pirates of Ikuto's company drew up at last along the beach. Yet for all the damp and all the cold and, above all, all the apprehension that lingered about their thoughts, there was underneath the most satisfying edge of relief as they abandoned their longboats and stepped ashore on this long-awaited isle and basked in the notion that, though a small step it might have been, it was still a step nonetheless on the road to redemption.

Throwing down his oars and splashing through the waves Ikuto took his first few steps onto the beach, ignoring the bitter kiss of cold as the water slopped over the top of his boots, and as the shadow of the island fell across their faces, he and the crew of the Shining Black found themselves utterly dwarfed by the size of it.

Nameless, faceless and seemingly unmarked on modern maps, this place had no name (or none that they could find, at least), being either unknown or otherwise unthought of by the sailors of Seiyo - acting as some simply unimportant little blot of inconvenience dotted about the sea, forming its own shoals and currents and coastal shelves that would have otherwise cut their trade journeys short had they been nonexistent, for most large ships that dared venture this far northeast were much too big to try and sail nearby. They'd found that out the hard way, for behind them the Shining Black still bobbed lazily out of reach, barred from further entry, her sails already weak from the storm and her the belly of her bow effectively wedged against that unexpected, near-invisible outcrop beneath the waves.

But it was still unbelievable that such a place could have gone apparently untouched - undiscovered even! - for so, so long. A magnificent mountain, shouldered by the beaten-down ruins of its former neighbours, rose towards the north, reaching high beneath the heavy clouds, just touching softly their sagging bellies as they flowed like rivers about its rounded peak. Weathered and wet and oddly slight, its sides were speckled with lush, dark greenery, stark and vibrant against the damp, dull grey of the rock and faded and mysterious in the fine drizzle it became the longer Ikuto stood to admire it. When at last his gaze drifted it was only because the roots of the mountain were obscured from view, buried beneath the forest, seemingly reaching deep and dark into an ancient and perilous place he could not reach. Before them now the very edge of this forest stood, dark and demanding, like an old and forgotten gateway into another world buried beneath the canopy. It sprawled out before them as a mess of shadow and soil, edged by shrubs that grew out of control and every now and then punctuated by a broken branch or two that jutted out at random, bearing their scars and stories in the wake of the hurricane that had so soon passed. Indeed the whole island seemed to be shivering in memory of the squall that had brought them here, moving and swaying like the leviathan come to life.

Utau trailed up beside him and thoroughly interrupted his reverie; "I spied some outcrops towards the east," she said. Ikuto got the definite impression that, if not for her outstanding sense of duty, they would have had a great job in restraining her from tearing off into the foliage and taking this entire island apart. Utau went on; "There may be cliffs, I can't be sure. Perhaps there's some vantage point from which to view the place."

"Set up an encampment there." he said. "And send some of your party to explore higher ground. Secure a vantage point as best you can and I'll have more men sent to you by sundown." Utau nodded. Soon Ikuto and the rest of his men were bidding their farewells to the small group set for the further shore, watching as their forms vanished like faint shadows swept from sight by the steady exhale of the still-quivering trees beside them. Ikuto regarded them with well-masked caution. At last, he unsheathed his cutlass from beneath his long, blue coat and gestured towards the rest of the beach.

"Scour the island."

And, as all eyes fell upon him, he felt an unfamiliar flourish of both excitement and dread - anticipation and exhilaration in equal measure - bloom as a newly-sprung bud inside his chest.

"If Kazuomi's here… We'll find him."

The 'shing!' of drawn swords rippled like a wave across the beach, echoing off the mountain sides and shining as a light within the darkness and so one by one the pirates turned towards the trees and gazed about its tangled borders. Three men here; four men there; a whole handful digging through the brush and another out to sea, planning to circumnavigate this little hunk of rock in an over-crowded longboat they set to work. Ikuto's hope had been for a more methodological approach, but being here in the flesh in the shadow of the great, grey peak, the heated flame of his heart had no doubt gotten the better of him and he gave his men but two rules: to travel strictly in groups fully-armed and to keep their trail clear enough to be back on the beach by darkness, for when the heavy night fell they would lose all sense of heart - all sense of hope - in this unfamiliar place and would be entirely unable to retrace their steps back. In the shadows of the forest they would be vulnerable - open to whatever cunning tricks their former Captain might have laid waiting for them in the thick undergrowth (if he had left any at all).

Ikuto sent out his little bands of thieves and scoundrels into the line of the trees at regular intervals across the beach where he could, leading the majority of the pack behind him where they sloshed through the rising tide, keeping to the back of his heels like well-trained dogs, staying duly beside the hand of their master until he steered them off to side. By the time an hour had passed, Ikuto was sure that their progress was good and that his men would be carving efficient little trails through the thin, gnarled trunks, perhaps finding old remnants of voyages long passed along the way; was confident that Utau and her group would be making progress towards the cliffs and that by nightfall they would have a clearer picture of this funny little land; that their small gathering of keen sailors who had sought to scout along the coast would have found an inlet convenient for anchorage or, at the very least, some sort of route further out to sea whereby the Shining Black could venture tentatively closer towards the island and cut herself a fast passage through the maze of shoals beneath the sea.

Every now and then a chill gust of wind would cut along the beach, biting along the bridge of his nose, leeching the last of the warmth from his still-damp shirt. The sea fog hung heavy about the shore. It mingled with the mountain mists that rolled down through the jungle from the isle's interior until it seemed to Ikuto that he was walking along the last stretch of sand in the world - tip-toeing along a never-ending walk of refuge lost between two almighty, freezing frets flowing from the very fabric of the water's edge. The sky became indistinguishable from the stormy vapour. The sea was lost from sight until the only remnant of its very existence became the ever-constant roar of the surf as it thrashed upon the pebbles. Little droplets were gathering on the Captain's eyelashes, trailing down the tips of his hair; soaking his cuffs; always 'tap-tap-tapping' just behind his ear where the briny moisture dripped from his hat to the thick fold of his collar, rolling slowly down the curve of his shivering back.

But the tempest that had so brought them here was by now far from their minds. They were lost from the world - lost from time - and in this whiteout all soon grew distant. By the time the beach began to narrow and their path grew rife with obstacles - a fallen tree or two; uprooted rocks; tangled clumps of half-rotten fishing nets lost far out to sea - even the hissing and half-hushed whispers of the waves grew quiet upon their ears; the cacophony of seabirds died-

And then there was a 'thunk!'.

The world returned. Ikuto crouched down, his blade held tight at his side, and, his blood now cold, frowned down at his feet.

An oar lay abandoned in the middle of the beach. When the next whistling breeze came upon them, Ikuto saw it's partner laying a few yards ahead through the white of the fog. Washed up? Abandoned? Ikuto curiously took the wooden blade and ran his thumb along the grain, but it felt as sturdy as ever in contrast to the decrepit driftwood and decayed matter scattered all around them.

"Tha's the boys' longboat!" one of the men exclaimed. "Ca'pn! Cap'n, sir! Tha's the boys' boat! There! O'erturned on the shore!"

Ikuto couldn't turn his head quick enough. By the time he reached the surf, his men had already half-dragged the sorry-looking thing halfway up the shore.

"Where's our lads?" someone asked aloud. "They on'y set to-sail this hour gone!"

"They wouldn't 'ave left her bobbin' without an anchor!"

"Sir! There's blood here on the stones!"

Someone unsheathed their sword, their face turned white with panic. "He's here!" They cried. "That crooked old Cap'n! He's here - you mark my words!"

A ripple of fear washed about every man present before Ikuto could intervene, though he would die a dishonest man if he said he too didn't feel the pit of his stomach drop like a stone at that one remark. He grit his teeth and tried to hold himself together amidst these frightened men;

"Quiet."

There was no need. The men were already utterly stiff - rigid with apprehension. Even the surf had suspiciously died away. The fog closed in. The distant birds were even more distant than before…

And there was no doubt about it…

This place had become suddenly sinister.

Ikuto looked around. The trees were by now but a shadowy wall that stretched as far as the eye could see, which, Ikuto was uncomfortably aware, was not very far at all, but they were tall - so tall as to stretch so swiftly towards the sky that they suddenly felt very insignificantly small in the island's shadow. They were rustling in the breeze. They echoed and groaned and rasped like ancient things long forgotten, rooted in place and a force of nature to be reckoned with. Every now and then something beneath the canopy would catch his eye - those great, leafy fronds would sway as though guided by the shadows within…

Ikuto crouched, his sight keenly fixed on the forest edge, like a predator poised ready to strike.

He froze.

Through the thinly-veiled mist, Ikuto thought he saw something shimmer.

"Someone's here."

Behind him, cutlasses were now all shining bright and brilliant even in the haze, every man armed to the teeth, their eyes a-blazing with a passion for vengeance renewed and as he rose to his full height Ikuto felt his blood pumping; his teeth baring; his very being come alive in the adrenaline;

"Show yourself!" his voice echoed endlessly against the thick boundary of the forest; between the trunks of the trees; against the ever-climbing sides of the mountain's edge as he brandished his fresh-sharpened sword. Beneath his shirt his heart thumped madly; "Stand and deliver!"

It was an expression Ikuto had never used in practice, but one that suitably made him feel as though, for once, he was perhaps big enough to fill these Captain's boots. But there was nothing. Behind him, Ikuto's men were brandishing their cutlasses, eyeing the gently swaying forest warily - as though expecting their former Captain to come crashing through it himself - but none of them faltered. Not at the sight of the smoke. Not at the sudden shriek of calling birds.

Not even as Ikuto held up his weapon and stepped gingerly towards the trees…

'Snap!'

The crunching of pebbles; the snap of twigs; the sudden 'hiss!' and the almighty cry of one of his men as they crumpled face-first onto the ground, clawing at their neck, their eyes white and wide and bulging like a man caught in the midst of the Marshal's dance-

"Cap'n!"

Chaos erupted. As Ikuto's men leapt away from the fallen man a rush of wind fluttered almost unnoticeably beside his cheek and within seconds three more pirates joined their comrade, grey-faced and gasping for breath on the beach beside him, but there was no time to fall to their aid. There was a snap of wood and the heavy fall of footsteps and before Ikuto could even believe his eyes a thunderous 'crack!' seemingly rent the trees in two! He cursed - raised his sword just in time. Ikuto bellowed with effort as his cutlass clashed as thunder against impenetrable steel - a great, curved blade of shining, midnight shadow; dark as a raven's beak; flecked with smatterings of silver as the sea; stretching ever upward towards the heavens until its keenest point disappeared utterly amidst the highest reaches of the clouds above. He grit his teeth;

"Stand down!"

But his opponent was strong, clad in black, and through the fog Ikuto saw that beneath the many layers about his face there shone as embers the most fearsome, most forbidding eyes Ikuto had ever seen - so unforgiving, so full of fire and fury that all at once it seemed to him that his very soul; that his every thought and fancy had in that moment all been seen straight into, piercing as the gaze of only one other…

Flashes of ice-grey eyes reentered his mind. There was a shadow creeping across the floor; the sand and stone crackled and crunched as broken glass beneath his feet; the roar of the waves became utterly tyrannical, filled with rage, accompanied by the hissing of serpent's tongues as the surf broke upon the shore. His blood was cold; a brilliant, brutal blot of blackened blue blossoming upon his cheek-

It was almost too much. But Ikuto grit his teeth. His knuckles were white and trembling, but as the mist settled cold and wet about his cheeks he found his thoughts return to the present and he felt his strength renewed. By the time he'd managed to wrestle off his enemy, his palms were clammy with sweat, his ears echoing with the cries of his men who were all locked in helpless combat themselves. There were more figures - tall and lithe as the trees themselves - emerging all at once from the forest. Some carried great, long swords with crimson hilts; others unbelievable longbows thrice the height of any man amongst them and they were quick to work. Darts and near-damn metre-long arrows shining slick with mountain dew were flying through the fog. The pirates were scattered - some diving unceremoniously out of reach of the twirling projectiles and landing face-first onto the stones; others trying in vain to block the offending shots with what little courage and cutlasses they had left. Two fell to their knees, moaning, hot, dark blood quickly staining their ragged shirts. One man with a pistol was fumbling uselessly to fill up with powder, but the rest of his stash was sodden and sticky and he was caught unawares by no less than three opponents who caught onto his limbs and fought to keep him incapacitated on the floor.

The Shining Black's men were falling - unconscious or otherwise wounded - like flies at the first chill of winter under the merciless hands of these shadowed warriors. Natives? Pirates? Companions of their former Captain? Ikuto did not know. But he had not the time to think much more on it. His lungs burning, he turned again on his own opponent, but found himself once more locked steel-to-steel, contesting in a battle of strength. His enemy uttered forth an almighty, guttural cry of strength and Ikuto found himself released. He parried - whirled just in time! - his wrist bones rattling with the force of the blow that had sought to rent him from above, for the figure was fast - retracting his strikes as quickly as he made them, ever-constantly retreating and leaping and striking Ikuto's blade again and again until it was all he could do to defend himself, never mind even contemplate making another pass of his own. Rocks were flying beneath the masked man's feet. Arrows were dodged. One of the unfamiliar men was tossed unceremoniously towards the surf, their ears ringing, blood splattering across the sea-smoothed stones as at long last one of Ikuto's crew unleashed their last - and only - precious reserve of dry powder. The shot echoed across the beach. For a brief moment, Ikuto allowed himself a small moment of victory. At long last, he managed to lunge headfirst towards his enemy.

"Stand down-" he hissed. Their blades were locked, their gazes burning in equal measure, for the rebound of that single shot was still echoing off the mountains. Ikuto has no doubt that the rest of men had heard it.; "Before the rest of cavalry arrive!"

But the stranger seemed only fiercer upon these words. There was a hiss beneath the layers of black adornment. A muttered curse in some forgotten tongue. The warrior retreated only to charge headfirst towards him, his war-cry ringing through the mist-

'WHAP!' - an arrow flew past Ikuto's head. He'd missed it just in time, but the shadows were darkening along the trees.

'WHAP! WHAP!'

The air whistled with the ring of whipped bowstrings. Ikuto cursed; shoved the last of his conscious men out of its path; dove to the ground himself-

'Ka-CHANG!'

His opponent moved like the wind itself. That blackened blade reverberated sickeningly against the stones beside him. Before he could speak, the warrior's foot was on his chest, his eyes glinting icily beneath his good, the hilt of his sword raised, a wooden club in his hand…

And then, at last, all turned black.

~.~.~

A/N: If this was 2014 I'd make a 'fifteen minutes late with a Starbucks' joke.

I'm back for another chapter! I can't believe I last updated in November - it feels like two weeks ago? This refused to come together, but at last I've finished it. I'm a little embarrassed that it seems like the struggle seems to come across in my writing, but idk, I can always edit at some other point. It just feels like I'm antsy to get to the other island arcs I've got planned that I'm more excited about.

No, but really, if anyone's still here then you have all of my love and thanks. I look forward to keep on writing for you very, very soon 3