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Chapter Text

“It’s too late to throw up some random flag. What do we do?” Iwaizumi asked the moment Bokuto stormed on deck, Akaashi at his heels. In a snap of his fingers a telescope was placed in Bokuto’s hand and he snapped it open with a flick of his wrist. Akaashi didn’t need a lens to see a large ship barrelling toward them. It was much closer than anything else had been besides the piers they docked at. From the distance, Akaashi couldn’t make out the details, except that it was massive enough to have three points for separate masts. It glittered along the already sparkling waves, but this time with gold and silver. The ship itself was dark otherwise, like dead coral Akaashi had seen in scrolls.

“Raise Fukurodani.”

Iwaizumi bowed his head stiffly, then made his way toward the flag box where Oikawa was already digging for a suitable one to fly. As they worked and everyone rushed to prepare, Kuroo pumped his shoulder as he rushed past, both his hands on Kenma’s shoulder as he steered him along. Bokuto didn’t pay them any mind until Kuroo rapped his knuckles hard on the wooden wall and called out, “Bo, I need to get down there.”

Bokuto turned away from the ship, his lips pressed in a firm line. “Man the cannons, but don’t fire just yet. No one here will be the first to draw their weapon. Understood?”

“Aye!” The crew shouted back. Bokuto’s voice hadn’t been as loud as it could have been: a test to how nervous everyone was given they had to be listening intently. Kuroo nodded his head toward Akaashi.

“Is he coming with me?”

“Yes. Let no one get to them.” Bokuto collapsed the telescope before shoving Akaashi toward the doors. “Go with Kuroo, do everything he says.”

“Hold on a second-” Akaashi began but before he could process the world bustling around him, Kuroo snagged his wrist and pulled him close against him. He could feel the uncomfortable jabs of different devices strapped at Kuroo’s hips, digging into his skin as Kuroo protected them with his giant frame and flung open the door. Kenma fumbled his way down the stairs, but was still more graceful than how Akaashi was practically shoved the entire way down by Kuroo, who closed and locked the door behind him.

Kuroo ushered him through the narrow halls and past the bunks, straight to a closet area Akaashi wasn’t sure he had seen during his initial tour. Kenma was already waiting inside, a tarp pulled over him until his shoulders were covered. Akaashi stepped in, hissing under his breath as Kuroo forced him to sit down in the crowded room too. When he was satisfied, he covered Akaashi’s lap with the tarp and stepped back, eyeing the way they came.

“Both of you stay right here and don’t say a word until I get you. If you think you hear something, no you didn’t. If there’s a knock on the door, no there wasn’t.” Kuroo took a deep breath in, his eyes ceasing their incessant flickering between the two as they rested solely on Kenma, who was already watching him. He licked his lips as he reached out a hand and placed it on Kenma’s head. “I’ll see you soon, sweetness.”

“Don’t do anything stupid like usual,” Kenma huffed, not an ounce of playfulness in his voice. Kuroo laughed anyway.

“With mates like this, who needs hostility from anyone else?” Kuroo hummed joyfully as he stepped out of the doorway. When the door was just a slither of light streaming in, Akaashi could see as Kuroo’s grin dropped into a somber frown. The door clicked shut and they plummeted in darkness.

“I can’t hear anything.” Not even the waves outside could be heard. From all his time getting used to that familiar sound, Akaashi began to feel uneasy the longer he was away from it.

“It takes a while for ships to come to us.” Kenma rearranged the tarp to better cover his lap. The air had grown warm in the dinky room but neither dared to creak the door open. Akaashi hadn’t heard Kuroo for the past twenty minutes, right as he said his goodbyes.

“So we just wait?” Akaashi muttered, trying to keep as silent as he could in order to not enrage Kuroo or give away their hide-away to any keen-eared individual. He drummed his fingers on his knee. “What if they need us?”

Kenma gave him a look, something he could only make out due to the past several minutes of him accumulating to the lowlight. “Well, I’d be a hindrance up there, so I can’t say that ever crosses my mind.”

“You don’t know the sword?” Akaashi asked, nudging the smaller man with his foot. Kenma shrugged.

“I never needed to know. Remember: I’m a vessel monk. We’ve got a strict code of what we can and cannot do. Fighting is prohibited, so I’d just get in the way.”

“Even if someone was getting hurt? Someone you loved?” Kuroo’s laced straight lips came to mind. “If you can fight, then you should be up there, right?

Kenma lulled his head to the side. “I can’t fight, Akaashi, I will remain a pacifist. To be a monk in my tribe, you must reject all emotions that can control your actions and thoughts.. And should be devoted solely to prayer over half the day, but this is my vacation, so let’s ignore that part. It’s all in order to be a perfect vessel should a deity choose to speak through you when you’ve been enlightened enough… I’m trained under the guidance of Apo.”

“Yet you have a matelot,” Akaashi hummed. Kenma only stared, expression devoid of anything telling as he then scraped his eyes to rest on the closed door.

“Yeah, well, you can have a matelot without being in love.” Honorary matelots. Right. Akaashi bit his lip and looked at the ground. “And if you are going to keep chatting, you might as well go on deck.”

Akaashi sat up. “I can’t…”

“But that’s what you want, right?” Kenma mumbled, twirling a strand of his hair between his fingers. “That’s why you care so much about what I’m doing. You are the one who wants to fight, you are the one who's got someone you are desperate to protect.”

“Kuroo said I couldn’t leave,” Akaashi reminded him despite the obvious way he shifted to stand up better. Kenma rolled his eyes. “I’ve never been in a… battle.”

“Kuroo also almost explodes himself every day. He needs to consider his own safety before having a say in anyone else’s.” Kenma pushed at the door until it opened a crack. He peeked through the opening, maneuvering his head from side to side before pushing it enough for Akaashi to slip out. “I’ve seen you train with Hinata. If he’s allowed on deck, then so should you.”

“I feel like I could be heading toward my death with the way you are ushering me out.” Akaashi stepped out and closed the door behind him. He crouched low as he surveyed the sleeping quarters, leaning in til his ear was against the door to catch Kenma’s huff.

“I know you won’t die. You won’t be so stupid as to cause someone elses death either. .” Kenma shuffled a little behind the door. “Kuroo will be near the armory so you’ll need to find a weapon to defend yourself down here. Like Bokuto said, don’t do anything rash. If it sounds rough when you get to the door out, then stay down here and guard the hall. Kuroo will be too distracted with the cannons to notice if anyone sneaks up to him. If things are as usual, there should be two people always by the doors to make sure no one comes in, so if you manage to get up there, either stick by them or get out of crowded spaces.”

Akaashi is sure Bokuto referred to Kenma as a strategist before and now it was clear. His own brain was being jumbled by how fast he whispered. He knew the main objective though. Get a sword here, keep it concealed or at the very least stuck at his hip. Knocking once on the door in thanks, Akaashi snuck around toward the hall, eying the hammocks as he went. He didn’t spot any obvious swords sticking from the wood planks or displayed on the wall. He did find an empty hilt for one though and he make quick work looping it with thin rope and then tying it to his waist.

With more light, he may have been able to see a weapon lurking, but there was nothing catching his eye and he soon made it to the mouth of the hallway, the meal area, storage and weapon area in front of him. He breathed out once as an experiment to test how loud he was before beginning to creep up the stairs.

The candles outside the weaponry were lit, but none inside. Still, Akaashi could clearly hear Kuroo’s boots from the entrance as the man paced around and got everything prepared. He peered in to catch a glimpse at the hulking man as he aimed the cannons. One was pulled from the wall to use as a look out. Akaashi couldn’t see how far the ship was, but he didn’t have enough time to focus on that. He needed a sword before he got any further on his journey.

He stepped into the weaponry, his foot easing onto the wood. It moaned in distress under his weight, weeping as Akaashi winced and pressed his flat foot to the board. Kuroo kept gathering heavy round weights to place nearby the two cannons he was focusing on. Akaashi’s eyes swept to the rack of weapons against the wall, a good-enough sword within five feet. He took another step. Nothing.

“Kuroo?” Akaashi whispered. The man scratched at his chin once before fiddling with things on his belt. Hearing damage. Akaashi rolled his eyes and lunged to the collection, swiping the sword before running out of the room and up a few stairs. No one followed him.

Tucking the sword into the leather straps, Akaashi reached the closed door and pressed his ear to it once again. No noise. The ship wasn’t upon them then. He sank against the wall, biting his lip as he mulled over the few options he had. One, join Kuroo or guard the hallway. Two, join the crew but get sent back down the moment Bokuto sees him. Three, wait for noise and join in the commotion of either battle or talks.

He groaned, rolling his eyes as he set a hand on the door. He pushed it open just as a heavy smack was heard on deck.

A plank of wood, large and like the one he… that was in the past. A plank of wood appeared on the edge of the deck where every pirate onboard was looking. Two more followed, and soon three people were walking on them, their dark boots making heavy thuds on the material until they landed on the deck.

The one in the middle looked familiar, swaddled in heavy, darkly dyed garments with equally dark hair… and a patch over his eye. Akaashi’s eyes widened in recognition, but that spark faded the longer he watched the man walk with a beat too free given the situation. From that, Akaashi got a taste of discomfort in his throat. There was something wrong with this man. It wasn’t who he initially appeared to be. It wasn’t Osamu. Osamu… his eyepatch was on the other side. Akaashi was certain of it, and Osamu didn’t look like that. Well, he did, but he didn’t. It was like a dream coming to life, but just enough was different to throw Akaashi straight into the uncanny valley.

He swallowed his nerves and darted out from behind the door, closing it behind him as fast as possible. As Kenma said, there were two people stationed near the doors, Nishinoya and Iwaizumi, both of which were more focused on the new arrivals instead on what was behind them.

“To what God do we owe the pleasure, really,” The man in the middle bellowed, raising his arms at his sides, “I ‘eard the Fukurodani was back in business, but to be found ‘ere in my waters? Now isn’t that precious.”

Bokuto stepped closer to greet the other captain, but they remained a good distance still. The tension in his shoulders was clear. The new arrival was carefree, not an ounce of worry in his form as he scanned the deck with his good eye, a smile still across his lips. He traced over every face, even Akaashi’s, but he gave nobody in particular any split second of attention not awarded to the others. His lips dipped. Slowly he rolled his neck until he was staring Bokuto down. His arms dropped to his sides.

“Ey… What’s this?” The captain gestured lazily to the Akaashi’s crewmates, his back arching forward as though he was already exhausted from his mere eye-sweep of a search. “Where’s the big man himself? I ain’t got all day.”

Bokuto’s eyebrow twitched as he met the captain’s gaze. “Miya Atsumu, head of Kita’s northern fleets. You are part of the Inarizaki.”

The captain, Atsumu, blinked. “Yeah? Want an autograph or somethin’? Where’s the captain?”

“I’m the captain of this ship,” Bokuto explained curtly, the tinge of irritation in his tone not lost by Akaashi, “Bokuto Amane.”

Atsumu barked out a laugh. The unhinged noise was filled with wheezes and cackles as he slapped his leather cladded knee once, pulling himself together as Bokuto’s boot dug into the floorboards. The only other person to move was Iwaizumi, who captured Akaashi’s attention as he swallowed and brought a hand to his sword, clenching the handle.

“Ya fuckin’ hear that, Akagi?” Atsumu howled, gesturing to the man on his right who only nodded, uncertainty in his features. It seemed to sober Atsumu up enough to sigh and loose his lightheartedness. “Now, I ain’t never seen Bokuto Amane in the flesh, but the old man, Kita, has. Y’ain’t him.”

Atsumu placed a hand on his sword and everyone on deck followed suit. “Now, it’s been three years since he’s been seen. I’m not unreasonable, my intell could have made a mistake about Bokuto roaming around in these waters. In fact, it wouldn’t be the first time he’s wrong, the fucker… But the thing is, I don’t forgive very easily.”

In one fluid motion, Atsumu drew his blade and raised it in the air. His teeth gnashed together. “And I ain’t forgiving no fuckers who parade around that damn flag like they know anything about what that man was like!”

Atsumu’s sword swung down and clashed right with Bokuto’s, out as fast as lightning as if it had a will of its own. Akagi sprung into action as well, rushing forward with a short blade to engage a different crewmember as suddenly men were swinging in on ropes and landing masterfully on deck. Akaashi shrunk against the door as Nishinoya darted toward a man landing off from the ropes, hoping to knock him to the ground by surprise. He succeeded, but then another Inarizaki man spotted him and came over to defend his fallen friend.

“Fuck off!” Atsumu screamed, wailing another hard hit to Bokuto’s blade. “Think y’are a fucking big shot? Think y’are all that? C’mon, show me! Show me why ya think ya could take that name!”

“I took nothing-” Another sharp jab. Bokuto rounded back, avoiding a stray swing before clashing his blade against Atsumu’s once more.

“Y’are full of shit!”

“Hey, pretty boy!” Akaashi turned and gasped as the back of a sword jammed into his ribs. He stumbled back into the door, a wheeze falling past his lips as the attacker laughed humorously. “The lost damsel look is cute, but it won’t keep you going for long. Let’s dance!”

Akaashi scrambled away as the man reared his blade around and slashed into the air he once existed in, slicing the wind like a needle along linen sheets. Akaashi ripped his blade from its binds, gripping it tight as he deflected the blows, the screams of those around him drowning out anything except the blood rushing in his head as he tried to follow the man’s movements. He was stocky and thankfully slower than someone like Hinata, but that didn’t make his situation any better.

He didn’t have time to attack. He barely had the mind to deflect the blows, his ears unintentionally urging himself to listen. He needed to hear. All he could hear was the sounds of swords and grunts and cries in pain, but he needed something else.

He heaved as the man in front of him clashed their swords before continuing his downward path along Akaashi’s blade, digging in further to try and knick him. Akaashi parried, his knuckles inches from the offending blade.

The man’s blade went to the side, leaving him open for attacks, but Akaashi’s feet were rooted to the ground. His ears betrayed him and his desperation to hear that voice.

“Akaashi!” The man before him froze in his tracks. Just over his shoulder, Akaashi could see Iwaizumi gritting his teeth as he slashed through the toughness of the man, who sank to his knees and fell flat on the desk. His shirt was cut open, a long line from his right shoulder to his left hip. Iwaizumi panted, stepping over the man to grab Akaashi’s arm. “What are you doing? Get to the top deck, now.”

Akaashi nodded numbly, stumbling past the bleeding man who laid face down in the pool of blood forming below him. Iwaizumi shoved him onward, turning his head only a few times to look near the front of the ship. He didn’t see what Akaashi saw as he ascended the staircase.

“Your right, Iwa, right!” Akaashi screeched as a member of Atsumu’s crew turned to strike Iwaizumi, momentarily disregarding Kageyama, who stuttered a breath of hesitance upon seeing Iwaizumi’s open back.

Whipping around, Iwaizumi slammed his sword into the others, growling under his breath as they struck each other. Akaashi quickly scrambled his way onto the top deck, praying under his breath that Kenma would be right. He needed to pull himself from the brink. He needed to think and move recklessly, like Hinata. He couldn’t keep looking out for Him when he couldn’t even help himself.

“Tooru, five minutes!”

Akaashi’s eyes shot down to Iwaizumi, then focused on the red dripping down his hand. A long laceration marred his forearm, right to his thumb which was… Akaashi sank to his knees. His thumb was twisted back, that or it was cut so deeply that it was too far to put together with ease. It held firm on his blade, but Akaashi could see how Iwaizumi trembled, his breathing harsh as blood kept trickling. Akaashi’s grip tightened on his blade and he barrelled down the stairs again.

“Stay right fucking there!” Iwaizumi screeched, deflecting a swing with a wince. “Akaashi, get back!”

You’ll die, Akaashi thought as he reached the end of the stairs. Iwaizumi groaned and thrusted his injured hand to the side, feet away from Akaashi’s face. It was enough distance for Akaashi to see what he was supposed to as Iwaizumi tried his hand at using one hand.

The injury on his arm was sewing itself back up. Without material or tireless patching, his skin was resealing like it was a doll’s thread pulled tight. Even his thumb, which seemed to dangle, was fixed back in place and he was once again using both his hands, exchanging his blade between the two constantly as the man stepped back, taking the defensive as he shouted, “Magic! He used magic! Black, spikey hair. Tan shirt. Grey pants. Red-”

Iwaizumi thrusted his sword forward, slicing the man’s arm as payment for the past injury. Akaashi crept back up the staircase and onto the top deck, suspiciously empty of the carnage below. He breathed in a ragged breath as he remembered the skin patching, the blood ceasing like a blocked river. He caused that. Not the healing, however impossible that was, but his incompetence led to Iwaizumi’s hand being split in two. Akaashi wheezed, his knees chattering as he gripped the edge of the deck. Kenma, please be right. His fingers twitched uselessly at his sides like maggots on a baked dock. He couldn’t just wait for the sun to roast him. He came onboard, he came on deck, now he had to muster the strength to do something.

Closing his eyes, he took in a shaky breath before surveying the ship to see where he could help as it was clear Iwaizumi had some of it handled, given his hand-

No. Think. Think.

If he had a distanced weapon he could be trying to fire into the crowds, but he didn’t trust his aim, nor did he have said object to carry out those misdeeds. He could also hit a friend. Biting his lip, Akaashi turned his gaze to the enemy ship for the first time and his heart dropped.

There were even more pirates waiting on deck to pounce in whenever they needed to. Whether they were waiting for Atsumu’s word or for a sign, he didn’t know. All he knew was that they were severely outnumbered.

And their cannons weren’t firing. Why wasn’t Kuroo doing anything? Did anyone let him know, or could he not hear from the ruckus or his own damage? If they sank Atsumu’s ship, would they all move and take over Fukurodani? Throw them overboard?

Akaashi counted the men he could see aboard the Inarizaki ship. Three by the planks… Eight behind them… Two on the upper deck… One… One standing on the ropes of the central mast. Akaashi narrowed in one the person on the mast, clad in black and gold only. Their pale feet were visible along the ropes, but not an inch of them were marred with burns from the uncomfortable perch though their ankles were encased in golden chains, not connected but dangling dangerously between the twisted ropes. Every other inch of their legs was covered in black light skirts that swirled in the wind, the only thing weighing them down was golden chains with charms along it like a belt. Their upper body was more exposed, a tight sleeveless black shirt with golden bands around their neck and forearms leading to their elbows. The further Akaashi looked up, the more he felt uneased. The person's face was covered with a veil and full faced mask which extended up to create a golden crown.

The person’s head slowly craned to meet Akaashi’s gaze. Then, in one shift movement, the person stepped forward along the ropes, then began to descend. Their gaze flickered from Akaashi and looked back to where they were looking before, like a cat stalking an unknowing mouse. Akaashi clenched his fist as he followed their gaze to a pirate aboard the Fukurodani, one that was standing over a fallen man from Inarizaki. Oikawa.

“Miya!” Akaashi looked back to the masked individual who had made their way past the rest of the Inarizaki crew. “The one with the colors. It’s him.”

Fortunately, Atsumu was way too engaged with his battle with Bokuto to notice the deep voice calling to him. Akaashi stowed that in his itinerary. He needed to warn or shield Oikawa, then he needed to get to Kuroo and formulate a strategy.

Suddenly he could sense the masked one’s eyes back on him, but he wasted no more time. He gathered his courage and pushed forward to the staircase. There was a near clear shot to where Oikawa was, taunting yet another person into a deadly duel. His forehead was glistening with sweat, his long hair plastered to his skin. He kept his eyes glued to the path, unwilling to move and search for anyone else.

Akaashi jumped down the staircase, avoiding getting in Iwaizumi’s way as he defended his square of the ship in front of the captain’s quarters. He ran along the edge, blood pounding in his ears as he heard the faint call of “Miya” over the sounds of men fighting. It sounded more urgent. Akaashi kept running.

Hinata was near the front of the deck, still several yards from Oikawa. He was in a crosshairs with a larger man and Akaashi didn’t hesitate to slash at the man’s ankle as he passed, not turning back when he heard a large thump hit the deck followed by a short-lived sob of agony. Hinata moved to the next one.

Akaashi hoped for his safety despite not being able to voice it as he jumped over knocked over barrels to join Oikawa’s side. He remained mere inches from a dead body, panting from exertion though he held his sword up, beckoning more to engage. He spotted Akaashi before they reached each other and Akaashi could see his shoulders sag. He was exhausted. “Aka… I’ve got another or two minute left. I need to get below deck, but… there’s so many of them and they are just waiting… Waiting..”

“Oikawa,” Akaashi panted, raising a shaky finger to the person in black, “you are going to be targeted. That person tried to get Atsumu to notice you.”

“Seriously?” Oikawa squeaked. He closed his eyes tight before snapping them open upon remembering their situation. “Fuck. Fuck. Fuck! Does Hajime know? Is everyone okay?”

“I-I don’t think he does,” Akaashi tried. He ran a hand through his hair as he stared out on the deck. Everything moved too quickly to notice. There were two men already walking over to the Fukurodani ship. The person in black was yelling again, fists curling as Atsumu ignored him once more. He broke away from Bokuto, both ragged as Atsumu surveyed him and said something unintelligible. Bokuto's shoulder twitched before he struck the other captain once more. “There’s more of them coming. What do we do? I don’t know if Kuroo got a signal yet.”

“Bokuto hasn’t done it. I don’t know if it’s because he’s busy with… Fuck. I can’t help Bokuto right now; I’ve got to get below deck. Clear my path?”

Akaashi’s jaw twitched. “Help Kuroo or get him above deck when you get there.”

Oikawa nodded and moved to stand behind Akaashi. “Don’t get too into a duel. I can hold up for a moment or two, but my time is ticking, alright?”

Akaashi swallowed and nodded as he looked for a safe route. The robed person on Miya’s ship slammed their fist on the railing before fleeing to the otherside of the Inarizaki, searching for something outside of Akaashi’s range. Akaashi snagged Oikawa’s wrist and guided him into the chaos.

Yamaguchi spied them as they maneuvered through, carefully guiding his opponent to the side. Akaashi couldn’t spare a word of thanks and Oikawa didn’t dawdle either. Unfortunately the path of least combat led directly through the center of the ship and to the door on the other side, which neared the planks. Akaashi dropped Oikawa’s hand as he got a good view of Atsumu and Bokuto, both with their fair share of red exchanged between them. Either from mutual fatigue or conserving their energy, they weren’t swinging anymore.

“Bokuto Amane,” Atsumu huffed, cheeks red and sweaty, “has been sailing as captain for twenty four years before dropping off three years ago. Y’aren’t old enough.”

“Your facts must be messy,” Bokuto shot back, a free hand covering a reddened spot on his arm.

“I didn’t get shit wrong!” Atsumu thumped his sword against the ground. As he did, two men fighting beside him stepped too close and he made quick work with four slices, two crashes to the ground, and one swerve of his feet to face Bokuto again. Then his eyes widened. “Hold on a second… Fukurodani… ya were searching for Ito’s relics, huh?”

“Never heard of that.” Bokuto’s eyes strayed momentarily and managed to, for a split second, lock on Akaashi’s. He could feel the mounting emotion in the air as he quickly bowed his head, snaking around Bokuto’s back to get to the door.

Atsumu grinned savagely. He turned and sprinted to the main plank, throwing his sword into the air. “HALT! Stop you lot! Return!”

Akaashi stuttered to a stop as a man shoved him to the side, an Inarizaki battling on the far side of the ship. He hurried to Atsumu’s side along with several others. Akaashi heard a gasp and he whipped his head around to see Hinata grasping his chest, sitting on his knees as he tried to regain his composure. Akaashi’s hand tightened around his sword. Were they backing off? Just like that? Because of this god-damned treasure?

“Akaashi, what do you want me to tell Kuroo?” Oikawa urged, placing a hand on Akaashi’s back to force him toward the door. Akaashi hushed him. “No, Akaashi, now-”

“So, that’s what it is then, eh?” Atsumu barked, he waved his sword over the crowd. “You actually fuckin’ did it, huh? You somehow… reverted back in time or some shit?”

“Miya!” Atsumu’s back went ramrod. His sword faltered as he turned around, head tilted to the side as he turned to face the black robed individual at the far edge of Atsumu’s ship, yelling over the waves. “The one in colors is holding a relic!”

“Ehh?” Atsumu swirled around, his eyes settling on Oikawa. He frowned. “You… didn’t use all your relics?”

Atsumu chewed his lip in thought, tapping his shoe on the wood. “So… you guys gettin’ a little greedy than, huh? Wanting even more wishes? Well, tough shit! Share the wealth, why don’t cha.”

“Miya!”

“What?” Atsumu screeched, throwing his arms up. “I’m a bit busy here, thank ya, Omi!”

The robed person, Omi, brought a hand to their mask in annoyance. They leaned against the railing, their ankle chains chiming. “His power is linked with healing the one with spiky black hair. By the stairwell. He has no relic.”

“Akaashi,” Oikawa whispered, “I need to make a break for it. Cover me.”

Atsumu hummed and blew an exaggerated kiss that wasn’t returned by Omi. At the gesture, the remaining men aboard the Inarizaki began to make their way over, swords in hand. Atsumu smiled down at Bokuto. His men began to move onto the ship, all their eyes on Oikawa and Iwaizumi, as though they had already decided a plan without words. Akaashi elbowed his friend, swallowing hard as one took a step toward them, toward their exit.

“Isn’t Omi so smart?” Atsumu cooed. “Let me see… Once upon a time an earrin’ was cursed… Whoever’s blood activated it… followed by another’s upon piercin’ themselves… would be a puppet to the Source.”

Just as he finished, Oikawa choked. Akaashi grabbed his arm as Oikawa fell forward, cradling his arm close to his chest as he wheezed out a sob. Akaashi knelt beside him, furiously tugging at Oikawa’s clothes and limbs in fear until he got a view of Oikawa’s protected hand, unmarred by scars or blood. Oikawa still cried out, pulling it back to his chest as he heaved in pain.

“... They’d take on all the pain of the Source, and be unable to remove the earrin’ themself…” Atsumu threw his head back. “I’m right aren’t I, Omi-Omi?”

Omi didn’t answer. Atsumu shrugged and lulled his head. “Alright, fine. Listen here, ‘Amane’. Hand over the puppet. Y’are outnumbered, y’are weak, yadda yadda… Ya really aren’t worth the time.”

“To hell with you if you dare try,” Iwaizumi shouted, darting forward to shield Akaashi and Oikawa.

“Akaashi.” He turned his head to see Bokuto stepping closer to them, his eyes locked on Atsumu. “Is that right?”

“Bokuto, he’s really hurting-” Akaashi muttered, pulling Oikawa tight as the man’s tears became wet from tears.

Bokuto closed his eyes tight. “Is the earring tale true?”

“I-” Akaashi knew that look. When Bokuto’s eyes flickered to him, he knew that sinking feeling. He released his hold on Oikawa, eyes red as he bit out, “No. I don’t know anything about this.”

“Ey! Don’t ignore me, Amane!” Atsumu jumped off the plant and came barrelling toward the captain again, who hissed under his breath before greeting him mid-strike. All of Atsumu’s men disregarded everyone else on the ship, including Yamaguchi who remained near the front of the ship, legs weary. However, when he saw their eyes only locked on Oikawa and Iwaizumi, he bolted over to help.

Akaashi tore himself away from Oikawa in order to defend, but he was immediately knocked back by men barely using their swords, simply rushing to grab a hold of something, someone. Akaashi grappled for his sword uselessly as they all went to one of the two men. Iwaizumi was also overtaken in seconds. Someone engaged him in swords, but he couldn’t face the next five who came and grappled him to the ground. Hinata, with tears in his gaze, began to hack at a man holding Iwaizumi, blood shooting into the air with each swing back.

“Hajime!” Oikawa screamed. Akaashi scrambled to his knees and stabbed at a man looming over Oikawa, still squirming in discontent and agony.

“Got it!” Someone shouted. Akaashi was pushed once again as men toppled off of Iwaizumi and darted back to the planks like rats scurrying to food. Iwaizumi, immediately upon being accessed full movements, rushed to his matelot’s side. When Iwaizumi raised one of Oikawa's trembling hands, Akaashi saw ruby red stains across boney fingers. A pot boiled over inside.

Akaashi grabbed his sword and slashed the nearest retreating man. He jutted the blade as fast as he could go, then pulled out to repeat it again. Again. A flash of orange passed his side and darted into the crowd of barbarians but he couldn’t see it well enough. His mind didn’t sliter to an answer, only cronned: Keep going. Keep going. No one else is going to get hurt because of me.

“OMI!”

Again. Again. The man fell dead before him and Akaashi yanked the sword from his back. There were more men by the planks. Akaashi scrambled to his feet and rushed after the closest one.

“Hey asshole! One more step and he’s dead!”

He froze. The voice wasn’t coming from close by. Akaashi panted, blood still sizzling inside as he watched everything come to a halt. The world fell quiet besides the whimpers of Oikawa and moans of those dying onboard. His eyes trailed back down to the man laying before him, bleeding out from multiple points across his back. His sword was glistening and that liquid coating it was splattered against his knuckles. Another object of death made by his hands alone. He looked back to the men and saw two large eyes watching him, arms tucked close to his hunched body. Hinata. Hinata.

He dropped the blade and it clattered to the ground like a pin dropping in an abandoned concrete city. A cry left his throat.

“Akaashi, stand down.” He sank to his knees. When he felt a hand in his, he drew close to it until he was met with Oikawa’s teary eyed expression, soft hiccups hitting his cheek. Iwaizumi patted his head once, the dried blood crumbling into his matted black hair. “Stay with Oikawa. This isn’t over.”

Akaashi wrapped an arm around Oikawa so Iwaizumi could stand up. He didn’t charge, only waited as he took in the stillness of Atsumu, who had his back turned to Bokuto without looking back once.

“Get away from him. Drop the gun.”

“Get off our ship.” That voice. Akaashi settled Oikawa’s head on his shoulders before looking over to Miya’s empty ship devoid of anyone… but two. Omi, standing in the center of the ship and someone behind him holding a gun to his head. Suga. Akaashi’s breath stuttered.

“Easy there, let’s not be rash,” Atsumu announced but Akaashi could hear his voice and how it warbled. “We were just leaving, right boys?”

Men began to step onto the three planks but they all stopped when Suga thrusted the gun at the side of Omi’s head, knocking off the mask and crown to reveal a pale face with both eyes closed. Omi’s head hung like a man sleeping, his curly locks blocking part of his face as Suga forced him to step forward. “Only on the leftmost plank.”

“That mask…” Bokuto whispered. “Akaashi, that-”

Atsumu shoved a man on the center plank. “Ya heard him! Left!”

“Not without our earring!” Iwaizumi shouted.

“Iwaizumi!” Suga forced Omi toward the right plank. “One thing at a time!”

As men funneled through the plank and back onto the Inarizaki. Atsumu remained rooted on the Fukurodani as Suga balanced on the right plank, Omi in front of him. He kept his head down, his eyes hidden as he walked, chains dangling along the side of the wood beam. Suga kicked his ankles forward to keep him moving. When he reached the end of the end of the plank, he gracefully lowered himself into a bow and stepped delicately on the wooden floor, his bare feet scraping the ground as he shuffled to a better position. Atsumu’s eyes darted between the gun and Omi, licking his lips as he waddled in place.

“They’re off,” He told Suga, who only breathed a shuddering sigh when he was back on Fukurodani, “give him over.”

“I still see one of you on our ship,” Suga snapped. Atsumu’s jaw clenched.

“Right. Good… Good eye.” Atsumu stepped onto the plank and slowly made his way over. When he reached the other end, he remained on the wood and turned back to Suga, holding his hand out. His gaze was on the water below. “Omi… Give him back now.”

Suga drew the gun back but Omi, unable to see behind him, remained with his head bowed forward. “Omi, can you tell me-”

“Get their mask, Suga. Ask for the mask.” Bokuto interrupted through thick breaths. Suga glared over his shoulder.

“Omi,” Suga tried again in a hushed tone. It was like he was speaking to Hinata. Like a guardian, like a friend, despite the fact that Omi’s height beat Suga’s own by a large margin, “can you tell me how you are treated on your ship?”

Omi clasped his hands in front of him. Suga pursed his lips before nodding to himself. “Omi, are those shackles uncomfortable? Where are your shoes? Do you have shoes?”

“If,” Omi mumbled, “if you are going to shoot, do so. Please.”

Akaashi knew Suga well enough to know Omi’s assumptions and what the entirety of Inarizaki thought was wrong. Still, Suga didn’t let up from his stern expression. He clicked his tongue in dismay. Suga nodded over to Hinata who caught his gaze and nodded in return. “Hinata, get me my bag with the two ribbons on it please.”

Hinata nodded numbly and crawled to the door. He used the handle to hoist himself up before disappearing behind the door. Once the door was shut, everyone’s attention appeared to be on Omi. Suga quietly mentioned him about to poke Omi’s side, then did as he said, poking twice at different sections, both times gentle and slow so he could feel the oncoming pressure. When he was done, Suga pulled his hand away and didn’t do anything more.

Hinata brought the bag in less than a minute. He weaved through the corpses below, his steps quick yet disordered until he was at Suga’s side. Without care, Suga tucked the gun into his belt and took the bag. He unlaced the binds and began to tug out different objects, some only to fall on the floor without worry.

“Here.” Suga reached around and dropped two flimsy pieces of leather with string. “Put those on, they’ll protect your feet.”

Omi’s chest raised and fell as he knelt down. His pale hands found one of the scraps and slowly guided it to one of his feet. As he worked, Suga moved to kneel in front of him, his gun obviously gone. Omi didn’t fight back. Akaashi wondered if it’s because he knew Hinata was still a few feet behind him, his sword drawn and gaze locked on Omi’s neck. He simply returned to knotting the laces. Suga slid him a wrapped jar. “This salvent works well with healing raw skin. Would you like some? Do you want those shackles off?”

Omi gingerly took the jar and set it by his feet. “... I can’t have them off.”

“Nonsense,” Sugar chided, leaning forward to try and capture the man’s gaze, “I’m sure we can find something onboard for them. They must be tough to move in, right?”

Omi strapped the other shoe on, his eyes closed from Suga’s view. Suga wasn’t swayed. Akaashi wondered if he even noticed he was not three feet from a corpse. Even if he did, it didn’t wipe the little smile from Suga’s lips as he grasped Omi’s hands in his own, running his dirty thumbs over Omi’s knuckles. “I just came from the mainland and we are going to have a celebration when this is over. We brought enough supplies. Would you like to join us, Omi?”

Akaashi reeled back. From where they knelt, they were out of view from Inarizaki, and that was clear from the distress painted on Atsumu’s pale face as he paced the span of the railing like a lion , eying helplessly for a glimpse at his prisoner, his crewmate, who fiddled with the jar he was given. He didn’t answer.

“I don’t know what all happened while I was gone, Omi,” Suga mumbled as though he had just walked out and children started a tussle in his absence, “but I will tell you that we look after our own, okay? And our own can be anyone. We’ve got some ex-thieves aboard, past slaves,” Suga squeezed his hands, “and though I did threaten you with a gun, I wanted to present that opportunity to you. We have good intentions.”

Omi drew his hands back like he was shocked by lightning. His fingers curled in the air before he tucked them under his opposite arms. “I must go back to Inarizaki.”

Suga gave him a thin-lipped smile. “Allow me to pack a bag for you?”

Omi didn’t argue. Suga stood and shouldered off the knapsack he already had slung around his shoulders. He arranged his things between the two bags before handing the one with ribbons to Omi. When he did, he leaned in close and muttered, “Now, make sure to eat some of that before the others get to it. You need more meat on your bones.”

“... Thank you.” Omi slowly moved the bag onto his shoulder. When he was set, Suga helped him up, brushing him off before nodding to him. He turned Omi’s shoulders and patted them once, forcing him to face the plank. Atsumu’s eyes widened and he threw a hand to the side.

“What’re ya lot standing there for? Steady the plank!” It was as though Atsumu’s word was always law. Four men jumped forward and gripped the plank whilst others grabbed the remaining planks and slammed them against each other to form a bigger walk-way. Omi stepped in the center, his chains dangling off the side and onto the Fukurodani ship. Akaashi swallowed as Omi took another step, his feet in a perfect line like a dancer. He crept across the board, his head finally raising to see his destination: Atsumu waiting at the end of the plank.

He held out his hand to the darkly dressed man, who settled his fingers over Atsumu’s palm. Omi descended from the plank and to Atsumu who, despite his clear relief, didn’t embrace Omi. He simply brushed over his cheek with his free hand, inspecting him carefully before pulling away completely and allowing the man to return at his side. He looked back to Fukurodani as their planks were pulled in a flash.

Atsumu licked his lips and looked back at Fukurodani. His men stormed around in an attempt to get moving again as Atsumu knelt to the ground. He picked up Omi’s discarded headpiece and cradled it in his hand before sneering down at the ornament. With a huff, he threw it over to Bokuto, who jutted forward to catch it in both hands. The Inarizaki began to move, slowly, but surely.

“If ya want it, keep it. Take that and our departure as a sign of yer incredible luck.” Atsumu rolled his eyes. He reached out and grabbed Omi’s shoulder. With a hard jerk, he yanked Omi to face them, a grin stretching on his lips as he grabbed the man’s chin and forced his face up. “Here, Omi, thank them for yer safe return. Show them yer beautiful smile. Show them yer beautiful eye.”

Omi opened his eyes, his lips twitching once but otherwise remaining flat as he looked out at the ship. Akaashi reared back upon seeing his mismatched eyes: One normal and one solid gold all the way around. Atsumu grinned and lifted his eyepatch only to wink with his other eye, intact and well. “Did ya really think I’d hand over a relic that fucking easily? Yer all a lost cause. Ciao!”

Bokuto threw the mask onto the deck. He gnashed his teeth, a growl ripping through his throat as he turned to face the wheel on the top deck. Akaashi’s heart sank as Bokuto began to storm toward it, but he was stopped as two small hands wrapped around his arm and a blade clattered to the ground. “Stop! Please, stop!”

Inarizaki sailed past and to the open waters as Bokuto breathed, his chest moving erratically as his adrenaline fell. It took a minute or two for him to properly process Hinata clinging to him, but when he did he turned to hug him close. The crew eased from where they were resting, including Oikawa whose cries died down during the exchange with Omi.

Akaashi turned to Oikawa and put a tired hand on his foot. Iwaizumi was already attending to him, stroking his hair back to examine the damage down while checking in on his bad otherwise. He no longer felt the sting in his arm, but his ear lobe was ripped from where a sailor had yanked his earring out, leaving a bloody mess that needed to be sewn up. Iwaizumi didn’t have a scratch and Akaashi was, more or less, only bruised and scraped. Everyone else had their fair share of dried blood clinging to the ripped clothes, including Bokuto who continued to comfort Hinata.

Kuroo and Kenma joined them on deck at some point, somewhere in the process of a select few crewmates beginning to check for casualties before throwing them off the side of the ship.

“Anyone who needs attendance, please go to the front of the ship. For those who are alright, please begin cleaning up as much as you can.” Yamaguchi made his rounds, those words passing his lips each time. Only a few needed help getting to the front. Akaashi remained sitting on the ground as Iwaizumi scooped up the teary eyed Oikawa and set him down in the front besides Hinata who sniffled as Bokuto ran a hand through his hair.

“It’s okay, it’s alright,” He muttered. His voice was distant.

“We… there were so many,” Hinata hiccuped, “there usually aren’t that many.”

“We usually don’t engage in a Inarizaki general’s fleet,” Bokuto replied, “and we won’t again. We are lucky Suga… We are lucky to know they are after relics too.”

“Then won’t we just see them again?”

Suga didn’t join the clean up as they expected. Instead he got around to the unoccupied side of the ship and began to set the ropes down, tugging them harshly with unmasked frustration as he got it all together. Akaashi stumbled over to where he was working and began to assist. “How did you get on the Inarizaki?”

“Loose ropes sink ships,” Suga muttered, “they left one dangling and I hoisted myself up. Would have done it sooner if I had a better plan… You should check in with Kuroo to see what needs to be done. I’ll join you all soon.”

Akaashi nodded and began to search for Kuroo above deck. He was in the process of letting go of a dead man’s arm, letting them plummet to the sea below. When Kuroo saw him, he gave a little wave.

Akaashi assisted in the clean up despite how his stomach twisted in agony with each gruesome sight. Eleven Inarizaki, four Fukurodani. Kuroo checked the pulse on each before nodding and lifting part of their body. Akaashi couldn’t help but note that while the Inarizaki had their fair share of death blows, the Fukurodani’s were in a sorrier state. One’s neck was hacked like it was a shotty decapitation. Akaashi hadn’t seen it take place. He was just happy the man’s face was too bloodsoaked to be clear who it was. He tossed him over the deck.

The medical side of the ship was being emptied fast, everyone’s treatment being either incredibly easy or grin-and-beared. Oikawa was treated quickly. His injuries were mostly superficially aside from his torn earlobe but he still didn’t join in the cleanup. He stayed with his knees tucked to his chest, his head buried between them with Hinata pressed to his side while someone inspected his leg. Hinata buried his face in Oikawa’s free shoulder.

He recalled Hinata’s tears. He was young, younger than Akaashi, but they both were wholeheartedly too young to die. They almost died today. Akaashi almost died. He almost got people killed. He could have hit too far and kept swinging until he clashed into Hinata’s body, unarmed and shaking. He might have- Akaashi’s breath stopped in his throat. His throat closed like fingers were playing his airway like a flute, but when he grasped his chest he could feel how fast it was moving and how his heart followed its speed. The seawater air was suffocating him. The stench of blood was putrid in his nose, filling his lungs until he couldn’t stomach it any longer.

Akaashi escaped to the bustling deck and in through the captain’s door. He pressed his back to the door to keep it shut, his cheek resting on the wood door. Akaashi hit the door with his hand just as bile hit the back of his throat. He was able to lean forward before it escaped through his teeth, blotching the floor with tan chunks and runny, burning liquid.

He crouched down, clawing at his chest for a good breath of air. He was met with no relief, especially as his eyes began to well with tears. His arms ached. The tiny cuts and welts forming on his hands burned like acid and here he was in better shape than most and spending his time crying in the hallway like he lost something invaluable.

He fell into a sit beside his sick residue, his hands rubbing at his reddened, wet cheeks as he tried to get a grip.

The captain’s door creaked open. Akaashi didn’t move to look up, he knew who it had to be, and it was only confirmed as two arms wrapped around him and slowly guided him up to his shaky feet. A hand combed through his hair as Akaashi stepped forward, accepting the others embrace with a sob.

“You are alright,” Bokuto whispered into his hair, “you are safe now. It’s okay. I’d never let anything hurt you.”

“I-It’s too much,” Akaashi began. He choked on his own breath, but Bokuto understood and kept him held close.

“You did good. You did your best.” Akaashi held his eyes closed, but when he opened them again they were in Bokuto’s room and Akaashi was sitting on his desk. His throat felt numb as Bokuto pressed a cup to his lips and the burning liquid surprisingly eased the pain inside, even if it was a little. His hands took the cup as Bokuto’s hands found his shirt and began to unbutton it. Akaashi clung to his neck, only reluctantly allowing himself to be removed once Bokuto was done. “Did you have anyone look over you yet, Shi?”

Bokuto helped Akaashi from his pants as well before moving him to sit down on the bed. He brushed the hair from Akaashi’s face before gathering a washcloth. The moment his shoulders and arms were cleaned, Bokuto draped a thick blanket over his upper body and then began on his stomach and thighs, inspecting each injury as though they all were grave and urgent. When he finished, he gave Akaashi fresh clothes to wear, which he also helped put on the moment Akaashi gave him a meek look.

When he was put together again, still sniffling and shaking, Bokuto eased his shoulder down to lay down on the bed. “Say here and rest. I never wanted you involved in… Take your time. I’ll bring dinner later.”

Akaashi knew he should feel useless. He knew he should be working alongside everyone else, but he just agreed with Bokuto and nestled against the sheets. Bokuto stroked a bit of hair from Akaashi’s face, giving him a tight lipped smile before he walked to his desk and sat down. Akaashi watched tiredly as Bokuto cleaned himself with a fresh cloth. He attended to his own injuries including a large gash on his side, larger than anything Akaashi has had in his life. He bit his lip as he watched Bokuto wrap his wounds as quietly as he could in case Akaashi nodded off. He didn’t. Part of him was hoping Bokuto would join him, but when he was finished he simply changed his shirt and began to go to the door.

Akaashi sighed and nuzzled against the sheets. He closed his eyes as the door opened, but it didn’t shut behind Bokuto. Peaking an eye open, Akaashi watched as Bokuto dug through his pants pocket and pulled out something enclosed in his fist. He dropped it in one of his desk drawers, then headed out.

Akaashi’s stinging body prevented a quick slumber, but when he fell off, he was out cold.

Akaashi woke when it was dark outside. Bokuto hadn’t left any food, might not returned at all, and Akaashi’s stomach was finally open to nibbling on something. He just hoped it’d stay down. He crept from the bed and to the door. Unlike most nights deemed a celebration, there was no music on deck seeping in through the cracks to reach Akaashi’s ears.

There were people eating on deck. Kenma was walking around with bread to pass to the injured crewmates wishing for fresh air for their wounds. He passed one to Akaashi. While looking around for a place to settle, he noticed buckets of sea water stained red by the edge of the deck. A few pirates' hands were marred with darkness.

Akaashi took a seat by the right stairs where Oikawa was lying on the ground, a shirt below his head as he stared up at the sky. Hinata was sitting on the stairs, running his hands through his hair.

“I just don’t get it… I just don’t get it…” He muttered as he pulled at his curls.

“What’s wrong, Hinata?” Akaashi whispered helplessly.

“I grabbed it, I- I got it back, I just-” Hinata bowed his head forward. “I don’t get it. I must have dropped it. It’s… It’s somewhere around here. Maybe it was pushed under a barrel-”

“We’ve looked for hours, Hinata.” Oikawa rolled his head to the side to look up at the younger boy. His lips were pressed firm, expression blank. “It’s… It’s okay. It was a stupid earring anyway. I have more.”

“But…” Hinata began to sniffle again. “I know I grabbed it back. They didn’t notice, I’m sure they didn’t– And I had it in my hand! Maybe I placed it in a med box? Or maybe-”

Oikawa faced the sky once more. He raised his bread and took a bite from the roll. “There’s no reason to make a big deal about an earring when more important stuff was lost. That’s that.”

Akaashi patted his thigh before reaching up to squeeze Hinata’s arm once. The boy leaned into him before rocking back into place, staring down at the ground with a hard look. He slapped his knees and stood up. “I’m going to look around the deck again. Akaashi, you’ll keep your eye out for it too, right?”

He nodded and the boy scampered off. Hinata scoured the deck as they ate, dropping down to his knees to look between gaps and pushing boxes around to get a better look. Akaashi had a feeling it was fruitless as Hinata began to research different areas after twenty minutes. Oikawa didn’t watch him. He must have accepted the fate of the earring long ago: A relic now in Inarizaki’s grasp.

Atsumu said something along the lines of it being a connection. A relic about an earring connected to death… Akaashi closed his eyes as he tried to recall a tale, but whether it was the exhaustion still in his system or sickness from earlier, he couldn’t recall a single one. To be sure it wasn’t his memory, he recited a few random ones to himself. They were all safely stored in his mind.

He pushed off the wall when he was finished with his dinner. While his initial aim was to get some ale to wash it down from the storage rooms, he noticed a gray haired man walk into the captain’s corner and his attention was stolen away. He followed, catching the door before it fell. He stayed at Bokuto’s heels as the man lumbered through the hallway and to his room. Akaashi wasn’t able to reach the door on time but his intentions weren’t to sneak up and scare the man either. He opened the door with a smile to greet his captain, but the noise jarred his captain more than he expected. Bokuto’s shoulders jolted up and his hand slammed a drawer of his desk as he whipped around to face Akaashi, whose smile fell.

“Bokuto? Is something wrong?” Akaashi asked, reaching a hand out. Bokuto caught it halfway.

“Aren’t you quiet?” He wheezed through a chuckle. “I was just coming to check on you. Did you sleep well?”

“I’m…” Akaashi’s eyes darted to the drawer, wondering if it was the same one from earlier, but he pushed it back. Turning back to Bokuto, he smiled and tilted his head, “I’m sorry I didn’t help out more. I’m feeling much better now… given everything.”

“We raise different flags to avoid these types of confrontation as much as possible.” Bokuto leaned against his desk. He ran a hand down his face, wiping under his nose as he did. “While we have engaged in battle many a times, that was either when we had a bigger crew or were facing smaller ships. That’s why we avoided that one ship a while ago… We aren’t exactly fighting fit. All the grunts I had… Maybe we need more people aboard.”

“We can check Lin before we leave,” Akaashi offered, stepping forward to regain their close distance. He placed a hand on Bokuto’s healing forearm, stroking over the fragments of intact skin. Bokuto drew closer, his lips twitching as he stared down at Akaashi’s fingertips tickling him. “It may do us well to stay close until everyone is back on their feet.”

“Mm, I’m afraid I won’t be spending more mornings in though,” Bokuto hummed. Akaashi shook his head, his eyes drifting toward the unmade bed. Bokuto’s hand found his hip. “Let’s just make due with the time we have after being shown it can be cut in an instant. We were all fortunate today, Oikawa, Iwa, Kuroo, Kenma... Those infatuated with one another should never be separated.”

Akaashi pressed his forehead to Bokuto’s and took a shaky breath in. Things could have gone awry and ended up much differently. Something close to fear held him by the neck, but the persistent uncertainty and nervousness faded in Bokuto’s arms. He nuzzled his nose against Bokuto’s and his captain’s breath stuttered on his lips. Life. They were safe once again, alive and breathing and touching.

“Akaashi.” His arms squeezed around Akaashi’s waist and he bumped their heads together like the tide lapping at a rowboat, a gentle nudge further into the boundless sea.“Please, listen to me and remain hidden next time. I can’t lose you. I want to keep playing cards and hearing your tales in the night. I want to wake up and know you are always here. You… You aren’t gone. That’s all I want; certainty that you will be here.”

“I don’t have a place I’d rather be.” Akaashi’s cheeks burned whilst looking in earnest, golden eyes. He placed a hand on Bokuto’s cheek, his lip quivering. “I wanted to make sure everyone would be alright. I was worried about you. I- I wanted to do everything I could, but-”

“You do enough as is,” Bokuto assured immediately, not an ounce of aggression in his tone as he leaned into Akaashi’s clammy palm. “Let me protect you, Kaashi.”

He leaned into Bokuto’s grasp and kissed him. It was warm, like the fire of a lone candle flickering in the twilight. Akaashi pulled back, a thick blush covering his face, but Bokuto chased his retreat and kissed him again, moving as Akaashi fumbled to keep up. His hands laced around Bokuto’s collar, curling the fabric between his fingers as Bokuto’s hands roamed his sides, grasping and pulling him closer like they’d drift away in the sea below. Akaashi squeaked as Bokuto pressed into him, his lips persistently kneading into Akaashi’s despite how the younger boy scrambled to keep up through his first kiss, his second, an overloading number he was eager to receive as Bokuto groped the back of his thighs and hoisted him up on the desk. He wondered if Bokuto could feel how his knees shook in excitement and nervousness. Either way he was relieved to not worry about his wobbly legs as he began to be enraptured by Bokuto, whose kisses trailed down to his neck and ended with a sharp bite.

Akaashi moaned in surprise, his back curving to press himself firmly to his partner’s chest who eagerly brought him closer. He tried to catch his breath as Bokuto insistently treated the crook of his neck. The zaps of pleasure shooting up Akaashi’s spine were impossible to ignore though and they kept stealing the breath from his lungs. “A-Ama- Ah, a moment-”

Bokuto bit his earlobe before moving to kiss behind it on Akaashi’s upper neck and his senses fizzled once more. He snuck an arm between them and pushed weakly at his insatiable captain, who grabbed his wrist and pinned it down to the deck, forcing Akaashi down further. “Please, hah-”

He followed, looming over to mark Akaashi’s neck. Akaashi could hear things clatter against the ground from the desk but Bokuto wasn’t deterred in the slightest, only grinning at the noise as he moved back to kiss Akaashi’s quivering lips once more. “Aman- I- Wait.”

“What’s wrong?” Bokuto muttered, pulling back just enough to get a full view of Akaashi’s blush.

“I’m just a bit, uh, tired.” Akaashi bit his lip as Bokuto immediately released his wrist and allowed him to sit up on the desk. “You… still aren’t healed up, so let’s… g-go slower.”

Bokuto’s eyes widened and he stepped back even further, his hands in the air by his head. “You are right- I’m sorry. It’s… It’s been a long day, I didn’t mean to overwhelm you any more than you are. I wasn’t thinking.”

Akaashi shook his head as he slid off the desk, the hilt on his hip bumping obnoxiously at the drawers. It screeched open, but Akaashi elected to ignore it as he reached out toward Bokuto and placed a hand on his cheek again. “Don’t say it like that. I was the one who started it.”

“I was the one who didn’t want it to end,” Bokuto countered. Akaashi’s heart fluttered, dancing ashes in a pit.

“Another time,” Akaashi assured quietly. Bokuto grinned and leaned forward, pecking his lips once before tugging Akaashi over to the bed. “Is it story time already?”

“Always.” Bokuto climbed in and scooted to the far end to give Akaashi adequate room to snuggle in as well. “What one do you wanna tell tonight, dearest?”

Akaashi was certain he was about to spontaneously combust. He pursed his lips and got beneath the blanket, laying his head up on the pillow. “Mm, if I have a moment, I can try to remember something about… the treasures we discovered today.”

Bokuto’s hand found his wrist and squeezed. Darting his eyes up to him, Akaashi searched Bokuto’s expression as he shook his head, then tucked his face too close to his neck. Akaashi shivered as he remembered how sensitive he was there. His years living without knowing that sensation was a waste, or maybe it was just Bokuto who made it feel so good.

“Something else, please.”