Chapter Text
Ask any soul in the town of Gelwe about the most beautiful place on Earth and they will surely answer “why, it’s here, of course!” Nowhere are there greener hills rolling down to sea; nowhere is the sky bluer; nowhere are the girls prettier. There cannot be another place on Earth where the slate sea foams against the rocks like it does in Gelwe, nor can there be a place where the salt breeze stings so sweetly. It must rival paradise.
Hiyori would like nothing more than to leave it.
She schleps along after her father, hauling his medical briefcase and thanking her lucky stars this is the last visit of the day. Hiyori usually loves assisting her father with his day-to-day work as a doctor, but today there’s something more exciting to occupy her thoughts—today, several ships have come into port.
“Now, Hiyori,” her father is saying, interrupting her reverie about what those ships might be carrying, “it is always important to consider what sort of person the patient is. A certain level of, say, tact is required when giving bad news to more high-strung types.”
“Are you saying Mrs. Teawinkle’s gout has gotten worse?” Hiyori says. She stares up at the rusty knocker on the old woman’s door with some concern.
“No—well, yes, it probably has—but what I mean is having people skills is just as important as medical knowledge. It will take you far in life.” With this, he raps on the door loudly. Mrs. Teawinkle is a bit deaf.
This is not the first time Hiyori has heard this lecture. It’s not even the fifth time. She’s been tagging along with her father since she was old enough for an apprenticeship—that is, if she was a boy. Proper young women, as her mother likes to say, keep to the home and learn all-important domestic skills. Hiyori is bored to tears by these all-important domestic skills. She much prefers following in her father’s footsteps, even if a female doctor’s apprentice raises many an eyebrow.
One of those eyebrows belongs to Mrs. Teawinkle. She is fond of Hiyori, but never fails to mention how well her married daughters are doing every time the doctor comes to call. Her gushing about hope chests and grandchildren is a thinly veiled question of why on earth Hiyori is nineteen and not even being courted by anyone!
Today’s visit to Mrs. Teawinkle goes about as well as expected. Her gout is worse, the cookies she offers Hiyori are made with love but inedible, and her inquiries into Hiyori’s imagined suitors are difficult to fend off. Hiyori breathes a secret sigh of relief when they finally bid the old woman good night.
The narrow cobbled streets glow with lamplight as they head for home, but darkness has yet to fall completely on the town. If I hurry, there’s still time to run down to the port and watch the action , Hiyori thinks. The idea puts a spring in her step and soon it’s her father's turn to struggle to match her pace.
“What’s got you in such a hurry?” he asks, but Hiyori is too busy rounding the last corner and flinging open their front door to answer.
“You’re early,” her mother calls from the sitting room to the right. “I take it Mrs. Teawinkle was easier than usual?”
Hiyori sets the briefcase down in the hallway and goes to greet her mother. “Yes, but she still had a lot to say about my lack of an engagement to some promising young man with all his teeth and a respectable career.”
She immediately regrets it when her mother’s lips purse. “Well… she has a point, dear. You really ought to be on the lookout for a husband.”
Hiyori suppresses a groan. “Mother, I’ve told you. Saying that does not make any of the men in town more desirable. And besides, I’m already studying to be a doctor.”
Her father comes in just in time to be selected as backup for Sayuri Iki’s attempts to interest her daughter in marriage. “Hello, dear,” she says. “Please tell Hiyori there are plenty of good matches available to her if she’d stop being so stubborn.”
“I’m not being stubborn!” Hiyori protests stubbornly. “I just see no reason to marry when I’m already Father’s assistant. It doesn’t matter what people think. If I work hard enough, I can become a doctor and carry on the family business! Right, Father?”
He refuses to meet her gaze, busying himself with removing his coat and hat instead. “Hiyori…”
“If I don’t, who will?” Hiyori pleads. “It’s not like Masaomi—”
An awful silence freezes the room. Hiyori wishes she could pluck her words back out of the air, put them back on her frustrated tongue, swallow them whole. Instead she murmurs an apology and turns to leave the room.
“Hiyori, wait,” her mother calls, sounding tired. “Miss Sasaki said it wouldn’t be long until dinner.”
Hiyori swallows. “I wanted to go down to the docks to see the ships that came in. If I promise to be quick, may I go? Please?”
“Go down to the docks, alone ? To mingle among the likes of sailors and whores seeking their business?! Good heavens, Hiyori,” her mother exclaims. “You know no respectable young lady would do such a thing. Especially at this hour! I shudder to think what those seafaring ruffians might do. And even if they don’t, what will people say?”
“All right, I get it,” Hiyori says. “The answer is no.”
Her mother sighs. “I’m sorry, dear, but you must be sensible about these things. Maybe you can go tomorrow, in daylight, with your father. But absolutely no talking to the sailors—or, for that matter, any suspicious characters…” She goes on to describe such degenerates of society, but Hiyori has already left the room with a muttered excuse of going to wash up. Disappointment curdles in her stomach.
She begins the climb to her bedroom, but pauses a few stairs up. With her parents occupied and Sasaki in the kitchen, she might just be able to slip out the front door and run down to see the ships. The hustle and bustle of the port would be just the thing to cheer her up, and as long as she’s careful, no one would have to know...
Taking care to dodge the creaky boards, Hiyori creeps back down to the entryway and eases the door open. It’s barely clicked shut behind her before she’s running down the street, skirts hiked up and boots clacking against stone. Her soul feels lighter with every step.
The port of Gelwe is nothing short of magical to Hiyori. Most ships in the harbor are fishing boats, leaving before dawn and returning late with the day’s catch, but there are also the larger ships built for voyages to far-off places. When they sail into port, these ships bring exciting goods and even more exciting stories. Even the shrill cries of the gulls sounds musical to Hiyori’s ears when she watches them unload their precious cargo. But despite the way her heart soars when she sees sails on the horizon, spending time in the port just serves to remind Hiyori how very stuck she is. Gelwe is perfectly nice—it is home—but she aches to see what else the world has to offer.
Even at this hour, the wide streets and storefronts facing the harbor are alive with activity. Hiyori picks her way through the crowd, dodging shop boys hawking their wares and young men leering at any passing female. Laughter spills from the opening door of Little Lucky’s Tavern along with burly, tattooed men, but Hiyori doubts the place will get truly rowdy. The owner is more than scary enough to dissuade any troublemakers.
She makes her way out to the docks, craning her neck to see the names painted on the sides of the larger ships. It’s much darker here, and quiet; the noise of the crowd behind her has long since faded. Hiyori supposes she should be frightened, but it’s a welcome relief from the day’s busyness. She wanders a little farther. There’s a new ship in a space near the end of the dock, its sails hanging limp in the salty air. Under the railing near the bow, a name is written in swirling script. Hiyori steps closer to make it out in the low light.
“... The God of Fortune ? That’s an unusual name.”
“A real beaut, isn’t she?” says a voice very close to her ear.
Hiyori nearly jumps out of her skin. She spins away from the voice, slips, flails, then finds herself tumbling backwards—into the arms of a stranger.
The stranger looks down at her. “You gotta be more careful. Wood gets slippery when it’s wet.”
Hiyori struggles to her feet, brushing herself off to hide her embarrassment. She’s suddenly grateful it’s too dark to see much of faces. Hers is surely the color of a tomato.
“I’m aware of that, thank you,” she says stiffly. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m going back to the shore.”
“What’s a pretty gal like you doing out here anyway?” says the stranger, following her down the planks. “I thought all the nice young ladies stayed home at night, polishing their pearls.”
Hiyori does own a nice set of pearls, but she’s not about to let him know that. “It’s not that late. And what makes you think I’m pretty? It’s too dark to see.”
“I can just tell.” The stranger is definitely grinning. Hiyori walks faster.
She strides back into the relatively well-lit cobblestones of the waterfront shops and turns, eager to bid this annoyance good night, but her witty retort dies on her tongue. This annoyance is attractive. Annoyingly so.
“I’m Yato,” he says.
Hiyori tries to act unflustered. “Hiyori. It’s a pleasure.”
“Sure is. I was right—you are pretty.” He winks, badly. Hiyori presses her lips together to keep from smiling. Keep your head on straight, Hiyori — he may have sparkly eyes, but he’s still some strange man who followed you out onto the docks.
“So,” Yato continues, “What were you doing out by the Fortune ? You never answered my question.”
“What were you doing? It looks bad, you know, following ‘nice young ladies’ around at night.”
He snorts. “I didn’t follow you. I was already there. The Fortune is my ship, y’know.”
Excitement kicks Hiyori’s heart into a higher gear. “You mean you’re the captain?”
“Uh, well, no,” Yato says, deflating somewhat. “I’m just a crewmate. But no one loves her like I do!”
“That’s amazing! What’s life like at sea? Are there storms often? How many cities have you seen?” Hiyori prattles, excitement not at all diminished.
Yato looks more than a little surprised. “It’s, uh—Hey! There you are!” He scoops up what appears to be a ball of yellow fuzz, nuzzling it. The ball of fuzz yowls and climbs onto Yato’s shoulder, revealing itself to be a small and grumpy-looking cat.
“Hiyori, meet Yukine,” Yato says. “He wanders off sometimes and I gotta drop everything to look for him, the little shit. That’s what I was doing when I ran into you.” Despite his words, Yato’s tone shows a fondness some people don’t even feel for their children. Oh no, Hiyori thinks. He’s pretty and an animal lover.
“Hello, Yukine,” she says, feeling foolish, but Yato beams. Yukine seems about as unimpressed as is possible for a cat to be.
“Awww, he likes you!” Yato scratches Yukine behind the ears. “That’s rare. You must be special.” He tries and fails to wink again. “So, what’s your story?”
Before Hiyori can answer, ringing bells echo down from the church on the hill. Her hand flies to her mouth.
“Oh no—I completely forgot about dinner! I’m sorry, I have to go—” She smiles at Yato in what she hopes is an apologetic manner, already hurrying away. Visions of her mother’s horrified face dance in her head.
“Hey, wait!” Yato calls, trotting after her. “I’ll go with you. There are suspicious characters around at night, y’know.”
Hiyori doesn’t mention he’s exactly the sort of suspicious character she’s supposed to watch out for. “I appreciate it, but I’m really in a hurry.”
“You’re already late, why bother?” Yato says, catching up, Yukine clinging to his jacket for dear life. Hiyori considers this. On one hand, her parents will be furious. On the other hand, however… she’d really like to hear what sorts of stories Yato has to tell. And maybe sneak glances at his too-blue eyes.
She slows to a brisk walk. “Oh, all right. But you have to tell me what being a sailor is like in exchange for the privilege of walking me home.”
Yato laughs, leaving Hiyori with a strange bubbly feeling. She slows down even more as he launches into a story of The God of Fortune ’s latest voyage. It may be a bad idea, but she doesn’t want this encounter to end.
They arrive at her house far too soon for Hiyori’s liking. Yato looks up at it with an impressed eye. “Damn, what does your dad do?”
“It’s not any more impressive than any other house on the street,” Hiyori says, feeling her face get hot. “He’s a doctor. My older brother was supposed to carry on the practice, but he’s...not here, so I will.”
She waits for Yato to mention her gender, but he just hums noncommittally. “You don’t sound enthusiastic about that.”
Hiyori opens her mouth, then closes it, a bit lost for words. “No. I guess I’m not.”
“Well,” Yato says, “why don’t you do something you actually want to do?”
Hiyori stares at him.
“Sorry. I guess it’s none of my business.” Yato rubs the back of his neck, looking away. “Anyway, I better head back. Do you, um—do you go down to the harbor a lot?”
“As often as I can,” Hiyori says, eagerly seizing the change in subject.
Yato brightens. “Great! I mean, that’s cool. Maybe I’ll see you around, then.” He does a ridiculous sort of mock bow. “Good night, Hiyori.”
This time, Hiyori can’t help but laugh. “Good night,” she says, but he’s already walking away. Yukine watches her from his perch on Yato’s shoulder until they’re around the corner and out of sight.
As expected, Hiyori’s parents are less than happy at her disappearance. She spins a tale about dropping something on the way back from Mrs. Teawinkle’s and going to look for it, and although her mother still chides her, nothing can puncture Hiyori’s good mood. She maintains it through her late dinner of leftovers and even through her tedious cleaning of her father’s instruments. When she finally escapes to her room, she flops down on the bed and grins at the ceiling.
“What would Mother say,” she whispers. “I’m in love with a sailor.”