Chapter Text
Iruma Suzuki, age fourteen, was running.
It felt like that was all he had been doing recently, with the number of heists his parents had planned for the month. Usually they had him be the distraction, something to keep people’s attention while a pair of blue-haired bandits robbed them blind. As he got older, they had him become more and more involved in the whole stealing part of the process.
To be fair, being a distraction involved its own fair share of running away regardless, but he wasn’t usually being chased while he did it. He preferred it when he had the option to stop and catch his breath.
He turned a corner, not pausing to look behind and see if he’d lost them yet. He could still hear the telltale thud of heavy boots on cobblestone, far too close to him to be comfortable.
Iruma didn’t even like stealing that much. It was stressful, and he felt that the rush of adrenaline from a successful job wasn’t worth the panic it caused him during the act. He wasn’t even gaining much of anything from it, the funds going straight to his parents only to be lost just as quickly. He thought about stopping, sometimes, but this was what he’d always done. His parents would approach him with a new plan, politely ask for his help, and then, well.
Who was he to say no?
Some part of him wanted to call himself pathetic, a pushover. A much more urgent part of his mind screams to run faster.
He pushes a barrel over as he sprints past it, hoping the spilled contents of it would slow his pursuers.
This wasn’t the first time he’d done a job like this. How had it gone so wrong so quickly? He tries to reflect back, to find what he’d missed, to find his error. He’d broken a window, sure, but the noise hadn’t gotten the attention of the wealthy man’s sleeping neighbors. There was no dog to loudly bark, to alert anyone. His parents had gone around to enter from the opposite side of the house, so they could cover more ground.
He was certain nothing had gone south in his execution. He followed his parent’s instructions just the same as he always did.
How had the military officers gotten here so quickly?
It must’ve been a mistake, a possibility that hadn’t been considered. Maybe a soldier decided to go take a walk on a whim, to deviate from his predetermined patrol route for no reason other than a feeling.
It seemed far more unlikely that a whole group of them would show up.
Iruma shakes his head. It didn’t matter now. He had to keep running.
There’s an alleyway to his left. Maybe he could make it to the rooftop from there, or maybe there would be somewhere for him to quickly hide. An empty barrel, or a crate he could duck behind.
He’d have to risk it. The soldiers chasing him would catch up before too long if he keeps going this way.
He makes a sharp turn to the left, doing his best not to trip over loose stones. He quickly scans the space, to see if there was a way out of this mess.
Of course, because nothing has gone right tonight, the alleyway is completely bare, and the roofs are too high for him to reach.
And of course, because the universe hates him, another group of five soldiers appear around the corner to block him in. The other squadron that had been chasing him catches up before Iruma can backtrack his way out of the alley.
His parents never trained him to fight, only to evade. He had no weapons. He couldn’t fight. He couldn’t escape. This was it.
As the soldiers advance, he finds himself hoping his parents had more luck than he did, and that they won’t be too upset when they find out that they’ll have to get him out of jail.
He’s arrested soon after that, the soldiers locking a pair of handcuffs around his wrists and quickly checking him for weapons that he didn’t have. Within the hour, he’s locked behind bars in the jailhouse.
He knew that there was still hope for him. He was young, so he likely wouldn’t be locked up for too long, probably. At the very least, he was too young to go to a serious prison, so he’d probably end up in a correctional facility of some sort if they decide to keep him here.
There was a chance they’d just let him go, so long as they decide he’s not guilty of the crime he definitely committed and one of his thieving parents come to get him.
Yeah, that wasn’t about to happen.
No, what’s he even thinking about this for? Obviously, sooner or later, his parents will quietly break him out in the middle of the night. He just had to tolerate this and stay quiet.
Morning comes and goes. He falls asleep sometime in the afternoon, shoving himself in a corner of the small cell. When he wakes up, there’s a stale piece of bread on the ground. He inspects it for anything suspicious, as his parents taught him, and eats it after he concludes that it’s just normal bread. The lady in the cell across the hall is bailed out before the sun sets. Nothing else of interest happens.
Iruma listens to the sea, its waves crashing on the beach not too far from here. His parents don’t come for him that night, and he finally decides to give up and sleep when he sees the sun begin to peak over the ocean through his tiny cell window.
He wakes up sometime in the afternoon to the sound of soldiers talking. Iruma doesn’t bother opening his eyes until he hears that they’re struggling with something. Someone’s knocking stuff over, and the soldiers start shouting and swearing in response to the commotion.
Intrigued, Iruma sits up and waits for them to turn the corner.
Two very annoyed-looking soldiers come down the hallway, holding onto the arms of a boy who can’t be much older than Iruma. He has an easy grin resting on his face, looking far too smug for someone who’s just been arrested. His short, dark hair and mildly ripped clothing gave Iruma the impression that this boy was probably a delinquent.
The grumbling of the guards becomes more audible as they get closer.
”We should toss him in with the other kid,” the first guard says, glaring at the smug boy, “Put the thief with the thief. Maybe they’ll make friends.”
The second guard barks out a laugh, but shakes his head. “No, there’s an empty cell for him anyway.”
The smug boy — another thief, according to the soldiers — dramatically flops his head around as the guards shove him into the vacated cell. “Aww, but I was so excited to make jail friends,” he says sarcastically.
The guards don’t dignify him with a response. The kid sticks his tongue out at them while they lock the cage and walk away.
Iruma doesn’t expect anything further. Maybe the kid would sulk for a bit. He thinks about going back to sleep.
“So, thief guy! Whatcha in for?” The kid shouts across the hall.
Iruma thinks about responding, but remembers his parents' instruction to never say anything in the event he gets caught, to never say anything that could rat them out. Iruma thinks about ignoring him and going back to sleep while he waits for night.
”I mean, stealing, obviously, but like, was it a specific kind of stealing?” The smug boy continues rambling.
Iruma has the feeling that simply ignoring him will not be effective. He sends the boy the flattest expression he can make and hopes he understands that he doesn’t want to talk.
Even if Iruma kind of does want to talk to him.
Unbothered, the boy continues speaking.
“Personally, I’m in for pickpocketing. Not the most exciting form of stealing, but it’s whatever. Didn’t even take anything important, just like, some loose change. Wouldn’t have even gotten caught if it wasn’t for my stupid brother. Not that it matters now, I guess.” The boy keeps rambling. “I’ll probably be out in a day or so. They never seem to hold pickpockets for very long.”
Iruma blinks slowly in response, hoping that he looks deeply uninterested.
“I suppose I should introduce myself. The name’s Jazz,” the smug boy — Jazz — pauses for a moment. He continues after he decides that he won’t get a response. “This would be about the time where you tell me a bit about yourself, y’know?”
Iruma knows that he should stay quiet, but he was starting to feel bad about the uncomfortable silence. It couldn’t hurt to just give a name, right?
”Guess you’re not the talking type,” Jazz barrels on, “It’s cool, I can work with that. I can make up a story for you or something. Let’s see, I think I will call you —”
”Iruma,” he interrupts before he can think too much about it.
”So he talks!” Jazz crows, “I knew you had it in you. Iruma, huh?”
Iruma nods.
”Cool, cool. Better name than I would’ve come up with. So, you got caught stealing, yeah?”
A voice that sounds suspiciously like his parents whispers in his mind that he shouldn’t confirm that. It would be too close to admitting to the crime.
Iruma shrugs.
The conversation steers away from their criminal convictions after that. Jazz does most of the talking, but it doesn’t seem like he minds too much. It’s nice having someone his age to talk to, even if it’s only because they both landed in jail and happened to end up near each other.
It’s nice, regardless.
Jazz goes to sleep a few hours after the sun sets, laying down as best he could in the cramped space. Iruma stays up, waiting for his parents.
They don’t come for him that night, either.
It’s his third day in the jailhouse. He kind of hates it, and he really hopes that his parents rescue him tonight.
Jazz makes light conversation throughout the day, but it’s still rather boring in the cell. Iruma sleeps through most of the afternoon. They get more stale bread for dinner, and the guards spend a few minutes mocking them from the other side of the bars. Iruma considers throwing his bread at them, but Jazz beats him to it. The soldiers confiscate the offending projectile and leave a few moments later.
Iruma rips his bread in half and tosses it across the hall for Jazz.
”Thanks, man,” he says appreciatively, eating the food with little hesitation.
Iruma’s not sure what to say, so he just nods, and eats his own piece of the bread.
Unsurprisingly, his parents don’t come to get him that night. Iruma doesn’t bother staying up late, and goes to sleep somewhere around midnight.
He’s woken up by the morning sun shining in his eyes and the clanking of keys turning in a lock. Across the hall, the guards are opening the door to Jazz’s cell. He walks out, smiling mockingly at the soldiers as they let him out.
”I told you I’d be out soon! See you later, Iruma!” Jazz waves cheerfully as he walks away.
Iruma waves back to him, and Jazz smiles before leaving the building.
After he’s gone, Iruma sees no point in keeping himself awake. No one was going to come for him in the middle of the day, so he might as well just sleep through it. Iruma feels hungry, a little bit, but ignores the feeling. He’d get to eat some food after his parents rescued him.
The next time Iruma is woken up, it’s late in the afternoon. Similar to this morning, he’s woken up by loud keys turning in a lock.
He opens his eyes and is greeted by the sight of a gruff soldier, opening his cell with an unpleasant expression.
Iruma checks the sky again. It was definitely still light out, even if the sun was slowly beginning to go down. Maybe his parents decided to disguise themselves or something? An odd approach from them, really. It seemed like they’d rather do just about anything to avoid doing things the normal, mostly legal way.
The guard brings him around the corner, taking him through a door that leads to a waiting room.
It wasn’t much to look at. There was a desk, and a few chairs scattered about the room. The decorations in the room were sparse, the only thing on the wall to look at was a bulletin board displaying a few wanted posters. He spotted the one for his parents, showing nothing more than a blurry picture of two figures and a vague, mostly inaccurate description of their appearance.
A few soldiers were standing by the door, presumably to keep those who are locked up from running out the front door. Not that it was necessary, since they only held people who weren’t particularly dangerous in the jailhouse. Most of the people behind the bars were small-time criminals, petty thieves, and other generally non threatening people. The most intimidating person Iruma could think of who’d been kept here was the pirate who’d been captured a month back, but he had only been in the jailhouse for a day or so before he’d been transferred to a more secure prison a few islands away.
Iruma thought that his parents would be in the room somewhere, ready to take him away. He thought they’d be disguised so as to not match their poster’s description, but that he’d be able to recognize them anyway.
But the only civilian in the room was the tall, rich-looking old guy who he’d never seen in his life.
It couldn’t possibly be his dad in a disguise. The height was all wrong, and the outfit looked far too expensive.
And yet, this strange bald man seemed to be here for Iruma. In fact, he looked happy to see him.
The stranger must have seen the confusion on his face, or maybe sensed the hesitation Iruma was feeling. He smiles brightly, and turns to address him.
”Iruma! And here I was thinking they’d never let you out,” After that, he turns back to the man behind the counter he’d been talking to. It looks like the stranger had been filling out some forms. He continues filling out the last of the paperwork, and leaves Iruma to be even more confused than he was initially.
How did this guy know his name?
He must’ve been hired to come get him, to act as a guardian figure in order to get him out without risking his parent’s own safety. It was almost exactly the type of scheme they’d come up with.
Yeah, that’s it.
The stranger, oblivious to Iruma’s condition, turns in the paperwork. He fishes out some bills, and pays for what must have been Iruma’s bail. Iruma doesn’t spot the exact amount, but considering his crimes, it must have been a hefty fee.
They walk out the door, and Iruma feels relieved. He wasn’t in the jailhouse for all that long, but it certainly wasn’t a very enjoyable stay. In fact, he’s so relieved that he almost forgets the man is a stranger. It isn’t until they’ve been walking for ten minutes that Iruma remembers to question who this guy is.
They’re on the beach. No one is nearby to overhear them, so Iruma figures he would be okay to ask. His parents might chew him out for it later, but it would be okay.
The stranger is noticeably taller than most people Iruma’s met, so he’s pretty sure he doesn’t know this guy. He’s old, but holds himself up with excellent posture, the hunching that many older people seem to succumb to completely absent. He dressed expensively, his suit colored a deep purple and lined with fur, and a pair of comically small glasses resting on his nose. He was bald, but retained a white mustache to cover part of his face.
He seemed friendly enough in the jailhouse, but now that he’d stopped talking so much, he was kind of intimidating.
”Have we met before?” Iruma asks after a small moment of deliberation.
The stranger laughs a bit. “No, I don’t think we have. Perhaps once, when you were very young, but I’m afraid I haven’t seen much of you or your parents over the years.”
“Oh, I see,” Iruma wasn’t sure if that was a good or bad sign. “So you know them? My parents, I mean.”
”Yes, I do. I’ve known them for a very long time, although we haven’t really had many chances to talk.” The stranger looks out to the sea, eyes unfocused as he reminisces. “They never seemed to like me all that much, so I suppose that it isn’t too surprising.”
Iruma gives the old man a moment to ponder while he thinks of another question.
”But they sent you to get me, despite that?”
”Hm?” The stranger hums, breaking out of his trance, “Oh, yes, kind of.”
”Kind of?” Iruma parrots.
”Opera caught them trying to steal from my house.” Iruma didn’t know who Opera was, but didn’t have time to question the name before the stranger continued, “They offered you in exchange for being let go.”
Iruma wanted to laugh, to tell the old man that his parents would never do something like that. To tell him that they wouldn’t give him up for anything, that he was a valued part of their team.
But really, deep down he knew.
That was exactly the kind of thing they would do.
They were reaching the end of the beach. They seemed to be heading towards the house tucked away near the base of the cliffside, right near the forest and small mountain that bordered the far side of the island. Iruma knew it as the area of the island where only the richest few people lived, somewhere with security too high to be worth trying to break into.
And yet, it was exactly where he was being taken.
Iruma had to wonder what was going to happen to him. Maybe he’d be made into a chore boy, to do odd jobs around the house for the rest of his life. Or maybe this guy wanted Iruma to do some sort of crime for him, so that it wouldn’t be traced back to him. There was no real way for Iruma to know for sure.
The stranger leads him past the thick gates surrounding the house — which Iruma is now realizing is much bigger than he thought it was, resembling a manor more than an ordinary house. The grounds in front of the house seem to be carefully maintained, and the house is clearly cared for.
The front door is opened just a few moments before Iruma and the old man reach it. A person with red hair and a neutral expression greets them. Iruma gets the feeling that this is probably the person who caught his parents.
”Welcome back, Sullivan.” They say simply, before nodding their head in acknowledgment of Iruma.
“Thank you, Opera,” the old man — Sullivan — greets with a smile. Opera nods, and closes the door behind them once they’ve gotten inside.
The house is well furnished, the decor showcasing its owner’s wealth if nothing else. There aren’t many photographs on the walls, but rather paintings. Iruma thinks most of them came from far away islands, and must have been rather expensive.
Sullivan leads him down a few hallways, before stopping outside of an unmarked door.
”Iruma,” He says, his voice taking on a serious tone, “I have something I must ask of you.”
Suddenly, Iruma is reminded of the situation he’s in. Sullivan looms over him, much more intimidating than Iruma had ever seen him in the twenty minutes he’d known the guy. Iruma gathers his resolve, and does his best to not look afraid.
”Yeah?” He asks, voice shaking tremendously. He feels small, and scared, and he’s certain that Sullivan absolutely knows that too.
Iruma thinks that maybe this is it for him. Maybe he didn’t live for a long time, but at least he had a good life. Except, no, when he thinks about it, he really didn’t.
Well.
He lived a life. Not a great one, but he supposes that it can’t be helped.
But then Sullivan starts moving, and crouches down to be more on Iruma’s level. Iruma finds himself frantically searching for an exit, a way out. Part of him braces for an impact, to be harshly grabbed by the tall man.
But Sullivan doesn’t do any of that. He just gives Iruma a goofy smile as he looks the younger boy in the eye.
”Will you be my grandson?” He asks, excitement leaking into his tone, “Please! It would make me so happy.”
The reasonable answer is no. He doesn’t know this strange, eccentric old man at all. His parents sold him off to this guy, but to be his grandson? No, it just didn’t make sense. He had to get back to his parents, this was probably all part of a plan they forgot to tell him.
But Sullivan had said please. He asked so nicely, and said it would make him happy.
Iruma has always been a pushover.
So against his better judgment, he finds himself answering, “Sure.”
Sullivan looks absolutely delighted. He spends a minute cheering, and hugs Iruma tightly. Iruma doesn’t know what to do with himself, so he simply stands there and waits.
Once Sullivan gets over his initial excitement, he starts talking again.
“I’m so glad you agreed! See, I’ve always wanted a grandson, and now I have one!” He stands up, a goofy grin plastered onto his face. “Oh! You’ll have to call me Grandpa! Oh, I’m so excited to spoil you rotten! My darling grandson!”
Iruma is still trying to process everything that’s happening, so he just smiles in response.
”I have a surprise for you already! Look!” Sullivan turns to the door and opens it, revealing a fully decorated bedroom. The bed alone is probably bigger than the room he slept in at his parent’s hideout — not even to mention that it was most likely many times more expensive than anything that he kept there, stolen goods included. There were several large windows that faced the sea, giving him an incredible view of the ocean, framed by beautiful red drapes.
One wall was dominated by a huge bookshelf, filled top to bottom with stories and history books and all kinds of other things. There was a desk off to one side, with a plush, ornate chair to go with it. Paintings of the sea decorated the other walls that weren’t already covered by something, all of them beautiful and wild and encapsulating the energy of the ocean. A huge map of the world hung on the wall right in front of the desk, far more detailed than any map Iruma had seen before. It was almost too much for Iruma to take in at once.
He feels like he’s been staring at the room in shock for too long. He should say something.
”Thank you,” and after a moment of hesitation, decides, “Grandpa. It’s wonderful.”
He turns to smile brightly at Sullivan — his new Grandpa — and sees that he looks ready to explode. Tears are gathering in his eyes, behind his stupidly small glasses, and Iruma isn’t quite sure if he said something wrong.
It seems he said everything right, though. After a moment, Sullivan finally settles on an emotion, and smiles blindingly at Iruma. He thinks it almost feels like staring at the sun. Before too long, he gets swept up in another bone crushing hug.
”I’m so glad you like it, my darling grandson! Opera and I worked so hard to get it ready for you.” Sullivan backs away for a moment, to study Iruma’s expression. “I don’t want to overwhelm you, so I’ll give you some time to settle in. Feel free to head to the dining room whenever you’re ready. I’ll have Opera start preparing some dinner.”
Sullivan waves enthusiastically, and then shuts the door behind him.
Now left alone in this huge room, Iruma has time to think.
What should he do?
He agreed to be Sullivan’s grandson, but he’s not quite sure what that means for him yet. He’s not used to this.
Iruma has spent so long going along with the schemes of his parents, sneaking around and stealing things, that he doesn’t quite know what else there is for him to do. It’s what he’s good at, maybe even the only thing he’s good at.
Should he run?
The windows were right there, definitely big enough to crawl out of. He wanders over to inspect one of them.
It had a simple latch, and no bars to prevent exit or entry. He could open it easily, with no real effort, and walk away. Leave, and find his parents again, go back to doing crime. If he really wanted to, he could leave his parents altogether — steal a boat and take to the seas, just like his mom said she had done when she was younger.
He sits down on the bed, and finds that it’s far softer than anything he thinks he’s experienced in his whole life.
Maybe he should stay, instead.
If his parents sold him to Sullivan, it must’ve been because that was where they wanted him to be. Maybe for a future heist, or maybe just for his own safety. It didn’t seem bad here, by any means. He could handle staying here for a while.
At the very least, it couldn’t hurt to stay for a few days. Just to see what happens.
Yeah.
It’ll be alright.
Iruma probably spends about an hour in the room, poking around and seeing what was in there. He looks out the windows for a little bit, mapping out escape routes as a force of habit. After that, he laid down. The bed really was quite comfortable.
He almost falls asleep, but is dragged back into consciousness by the growling of his stomach.
Sullivan had said something about dinner, hadn’t he?
Trying to navigate the huge house on his own certainly wasn’t the easiest thing to do. He spent a few minutes wandering through the halls, retracing the steps he had taken with Sullivan to find the front entrance. From there, it wasn’t too far to the dining room, but it still took some effort finding it. He did his best to follow the smell of food, hoping that it would get him to the general vicinity.
Whatever was in that room smelled amazing.
Eventually, he turns a corner and finds a large, open room. Most of the space was taken up by a table that seemed too big to be in the house of a man who lives alone. There are only four chairs to go with it, but it could easily hold a dozen more.
The table itself was piled with food. Iruma couldn’t even identify half of the stuff, the dishes looking like nothing he’s ever seen before. It all looked incredible, and Iruma was having a hard time believing that only one person cooked it all.
Sullivan was already seated at the table, reading through a newspaper that must have arrived earlier in the day. He looked up as Iruma passed the threshold, and smiled at him.
”Iruma! I’m glad you found your way over. Opera was just telling me that I never showed you how to get here. They were worried you might get lost,” Sullivan says happily, “But look, you got here perfectly fine, all on your own! Oh, my grandson is just so smart!”
Iruma isn’t quite used to the praise, so he decides to change the topic.
”The food looks fantastic, Grandpa,” Iruma says, smiling politely, “Opera really made all of this?”
Sullivan turns away to hide his expression, but Iruma has a pretty good idea of what his face looks like as he gushes, “He called me Grandpa!” Sullivan turns back to him, expression composed once again, “Yes, Opera made all the food. They’re quite the talented chef.”
”Thank you, Sir,” Opera says from Iruma’s left.
Iruma jumps a little bit. He hadn’t noticed them standing there. Had they been there the whole time?
The more time Iruma spends around Opera, the more he starts to understand why this is the person who caught his parents breaking in.
He stands awkwardly at the entrance of the room, uncertain what he should do next.
Sullivan seems to sense his hesitation, because not a moment later, he says, “Please, come sit! We can get you something to eat. There’s plenty of options to choose from.”
Iruma walks toward the table, selecting a chair on the opposite side of Sullivan. A plate is already in front of him, ready for him to fill with a selection of food. Iruma considers how much he’ll be permitted to have.
Well, there really was a lot of food. Iruma might as well take as much as he could, before it gets taken away.
He starts piling on as many different kinds of food as he can reach, determined to try everything. Some of it really did look kind of strange, but Iruma was never the type to be picky.
He scarfs down as much of the food as he can while Sullivan calmly sips on some tea and continues reading his newspaper. He looks up at Iruma every so often, but only chuckles before going back to the paper. With Sullivan making no move to stop him, Iruma manages to get through a good chunk of the massive dinner before he says anything.
It’s when Iruma starts drinking some unfamiliar tea that he finally speaks up.
”Iruma, there are a few more things I should tell you about. It can wait until after dinner, if you’d like, but I’d like to discuss this as soon as possible,” He says calmly, watching Iruma as he awkwardly sips on his tea, caught off-guard.
Iruma clears his throat, and considers the offer. He’d already eaten a lot, and if Sullivan wanted to talk, he probably should listen.
”No, it’s okay. Now is fine,” Iruma says, unsure what it is that Sullivan could want to talk about.
”Wonderful,” Sullivan smiles, and sets the newspaper to the side. He bridges his fingers on the table and leans forward, suddenly seeming much more serious. “Ah, where to start? Hm. You were convicted for breaking and entering, but I’m aware that you’ve committed several other crimes in the past alongside your parents. To put it simply, I got you out of the jailhouse, but there will still be further repercussions for those actions.”
Iruma sits up a bit more straight. He knew that it couldn’t have been that easy, but he didn’t think that everything would come back around so quickly. He tries not to look too nervous. Iruma nods to Sullivan to continue.
”There will be some conditions. First, you can’t go out and commit more crimes. If you are caught breaking the law again, there will be nothing I can do to help you.”
Iruma thinks that makes sense. He kind of expected something along those lines, not that he was planning to go out and do a major robbery any time soon. He nods in agreement.
”Second, you will receive an education. I don’t know what your schooling history looks like, but I assume that it isn’t as complete as it should be. I expect you to try to learn as much as you can for the next few years,” Sullivan explains, “You’ll be taught here, within the house. Opera will be your teacher.”
Iruma never really was able to go to school, instead being taken along with his parent’s schemes. This could be a good opportunity to learn something new. He nods.
”Finally, once you are old enough, you will be enrolled in the Navy.”
That one catches Iruma by surprise.
The Navy? Him?
”A few years ago, I managed to convince them to implement a behavioral correction program of sorts. It takes in participants with criminal records, and gives them the opportunity to get a clean slate, so to speak. Of course, that doesn’t mean you’ll be in a group full of criminals, but it’ll most likely be a rowdier bunch than the other groups will have,” Sullivan waves his hand around as he rambles, “You’ll see what I mean eventually.”
Iruma doesn’t listen very closely to the explanation after that. He’s still kind of in shock.
They wanted him to join the Navy?
He doesn’t want to do that. Maybe he can bargain with Sullivan?
“I don’t think that’s necessary, though, Grandpa,” He says, eyes pleading, “Are you sure that I have to do that?”
He hoped that calling him Grandpa would work, that it would make him change his mind. Of course, Iruma had no such luck.
”I’m sorry, but it’s been decided. I already spoke with the higher-ups about it, and it was approved. You’ll be enrolled not too long after you turn eighteen.”
Iruma finally manages to latch onto what Sullivan is saying. “You spoke to the Navy about it?”
“Of course I did!” Sullivan says cheerily, “Anything for my darling grandson! Not that it was a big deal. I pull some weight over there, so it wasn’t difficult at all.”
”Ah.” That really just gave Iruma more questions, but he was pretty sure he wouldn’t get any comforting answers. “Anything else I should know?”
”No, that about covers it,” Sullivan says, smiling apologetically, “I’m sorry if that was a lot. I know that this will be a big change for you moving forward, but I’m positive that you’ll do well.”
They don’t talk much after that, Sullivan returning to his paper and Iruma continuing to work his way through the mountain of food Opera made. After Iruma decided he couldn’t possibly eat any more food, he got up to go back to his room.
As he lays down on his bed, he reconsiders his options.
Run or stay?
He thinks he could make it out without too much difficulty. He could probably even take some things from around Sullivan’s house without being noticed. That was most likely the kind of thing his parents wanted him to do.
If he stays, he has a safe place to stay and guaranteed education, but at the cost of his freedom. He has time before he’s turned over to the Navy, but he’s certain that the moment he gets stuck there it’ll be over for him.
The windows were unguarded. He could crawl out and no one would even know until the next day. Sure, Sullivan might be sad, but they’ve known each other for less than six hours. He would get over it soon enough.
But he agreed to be his grandson. He couldn’t go back on his word, could he?
What was he thinking, of course he could. Iruma is a criminal. He lies and steals from people all the time. This was just another rich guy for him to deceive.
A rich guy with connections to the Navy, though. He would get tracked down and caught sooner or later if he stole too much.
Iruma doesn’t want to join the Navy.
He didn’t necessarily love committing crimes, or being on the run all the time, but it was all he really knew. That’s his life, that’s what he’s good at. Iruma doesn’t really have much of a goal in life, he’s generally more of a go with the flow type of guy. See where life takes him and roll with it. But even still, joining the Navy seemed awful.
But if he was part of the Navy, he’d get to go to sea, he’d get to see the world. He’d always felt a draw to the ocean, maybe this was his chance to go on an adventure. Make friends, be part of something bigger than himself. A chance to really do something with his life.
No, the Navy still sounds like it would be terrible.
The window was only growing more tempting by the minute.
He felt a bit bad about it, in the end. Sullivan had seemed nice, like he’d be a good caretaker, but this wasn’t the life meant for him. He had to go.
Iruma gathers some objects from around the room. Things that were small enough to easily carry, but looked like they could be sold for a good amount of money. He shoves as many things as possible into his pockets, and unlatches the window.
He’s hit immediately by the breeze carried over from the nearby ocean, the smell of salt and sand feeling almost comforting. The sun had set not too long ago, letting Iruma move about in semi-darkness.
Iruma slips out the window, landing on the ground as quietly as he can. He looks around, but the coast seems clear. He maps out his route, and starts moving.
He moves in almost a zigzag, going from one structure to another, hiding behind bushes and small statues. He listens carefully for the sound of any alarms, or maybe some dogs, but doesn’t hear anything.
He reaches the wall easily enough. All that was left was to climb over it. Iruma gets ready to jump onto it.
”Can I help you, Master Iruma?” Opera says from behind him.
Iruma yelps, knocking his head into the fence as he frantically spins to face Opera.
They’re kind of scary, in the low light. Their face was shadowed, the only thing really visible being a pair of red eyes that seemed to almost glow in the darkness.
When did they get there?
”No, sorry, I — um, sorry,” Iruma struggles to think of something to say, “Um, no, I was just, uh, going…for a…walk?” He finishes lamely.
”I see,” Opera says, their voice giving away nothing, “Well, it’s getting late. May I assist you in getting back to your room?”
Iruma sees no way to get out of this. Defeated, he accepts his fate and agrees, “Sure.”
His first few months at the Sullivan estate went similarly.
He’d wake up, spend some time with Sullivan before it was time to be taught by Opera. The lessons ranged from reading and literacy to geography to self defense, with little to no indication of what would be taught on which day. The schooling would last for most of the day, with breaks at mealtimes. After dinner, Iruma would go to his room and plan out a new way to escape.
He made a breakout attempt at least once a week. He was caught by Opera every single time.
Things got easier after he finally accepted that this is his new life.
He started bonding more with Sullivan, and even Opera. Iruma was becoming a better student and put in a greater effort to truly learn the things he was being taught. His escape attempts became less and less frequent.
Soon enough, a year passed, and then another. He started actually thinking of Sullivan as his Grandpa, and Opera as more than just a teacher. He was kept in the house most of the time, but he was permitted to go out to places with his Grandpa every so often.
He never saw or heard from his parents in all that time, but he grew to be okay with that. They never really were the type to keep in touch.
Another year comes and goes, and before Iruma knows it, his eighteenth birthday arrives.
True to his Grandpa’s word, he is enrolled in the Navy a few months later. Iruma puts in one last escape attempt, but gets caught almost as soon as he leaves his room. Opera gives him a knowing look, and Iruma shrugs with a shy grin.
Grandpa and Opera make the necessary arrangements, and soon enough, they’re setting sail.
Part of him wants to be exhilarated. He’s only been on a boat a handful of times, when he was younger and his parents bit off more than they could chew. They’d get too high on the radar, and then they’d sail to the next island.
It’s been years since he’s been on the sea. It was frightening, in some ways, but more than that, it felt right. It felt like freedom. It felt like home.
But he was on a boat heading straight for Babyls Naval Academy, where he’d be stuck for a few years before he either quit with a clear record or stayed to officially join the Navy. His grandpa has spent countless hours telling him about his own adventures he went on, about how much he loved being part of it all. He was still involved, of course, because the old man never quite knew when to officially retire. Iruma knew that his Grandpa wanted him to stay, to climb the ranks just as he did.
Iruma didn’t know if that was something he could do.
Iruma is a criminal. It was what he’s known for his whole life, a simple fact of the universe. He’s the son of bandits and old pirates, he’s been against the law from the moment he was born. He wasn’t made to abide by the strict rules of the government.
Iruma leans over the railing, and watches as the waves crash against the side of the ship. The sparkling blue water rushes past the smooth metal hull, passing by as the wind carries them forward. He can’t see any sea creatures beneath the choppy surface, but he knows that there are unimaginable things just below the surface.
Grandpa has tried to win him over, and Iruma has done his best to do as he asks. He would try, at the very least, to make the most of his time with the Navy. Even if only to make his Grandpa happy.
A seagull squawks as it soars above the sails, lazily drifting on the breeze. The island that Iruma called home for so long was starting to grow small, barely more than a speck in the distance. Opera told him earlier that Babyls Island is far, and that the trip would last a few days. Iruma was grateful for the time it gave him. It meant he had time to think, and time to say goodbye.
He says goodbye to his island as it disappears beneath the horizon. Opera finds him laying down on the deck an hour later and tells him it’s time for dinner. Iruma doesn’t feel much like eating, but accepts a healthy portion of the food anyway.
He says goodbye to Opera before he disembarks with Grandpa. They were going to stay and watch over the ship while his Grandpa took him to the entrance of the Academy. Iruma thanks Opera for everything they’ve taught him, and Opera laughs and tells him they’ll see each other again before he knows it.
He says goodbye to Grandpa at the gate to the Academy. He hugs the old man tightly and asks one more time if he has to go. The answer remains unchanged, but Grandpa hugs him back just as tight.
“I’m proud of you, no matter what,” he says, embracing Iruma, “My darling grandson.”
”I’ll miss you, Grandpa,” Iruma says, fighting tears.
”I know,” Grandpa pulls away from the hug, holding onto Iruma’s shoulders. He smiles. “I’ll be there when you come home. I can’t wait to hear about all your adventures.”
Iruma laughs, and rubs at his watering eyes. He reaches up to hold onto one of Grandpa’s hands.
”Now go,” Grandpa gently nudges him towards the entrance, letting his hands slip away from Iruma, “Go on an adventure, and tell me the stories when you return.”
“I will,” Iruma gives him a shaky grin, as big as he can manage while fighting the urge to cry. “Goodbye, Grandpa.”
”Goodbye, Iruma,” He says with a smile.
Grandpa waves at him as he walks away. When Iruma turns around, he’s gone.
He reaches the gate. It’s huge, an imposing sight to take in. He can hear the practiced, unified shouts of greetings just beyond the walls, and the clamor of the students as they filter through the main square. Iruma takes a deep breath. This is it, the point of no return. One more step, and he’s inside the Academy. One more step, and he officially joins the Navy. One more step, and his life changes forever.
It was only the opening ceremonies today. Grandpa told him that there would be a week before training begins, time spent for the higher-ups to observe the cadets and sort everyone into squadrons, the unit groups they would be with for the next three years.
Of course, he already knew where he would be going, so at least he didn’t have to worry about that. It was decided for him years ago.
Yeah, he could do this. It would be okay. He was ready.
Iruma takes a deep, steadying breath.
And he takes the step.