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The pirate attack had come unexpectedly, out of nowhere, on a day when the sun shone hot and the sky was clear and a good wind blew them swiftly across the sea. They had overwhelmed the small merchant ship in a matter of minutes, and had slashed the sails, and taken the crew and the captain’s daughter prisoner; the captain himself and the first mate were lashed to the mast to die of exposure or to sink with their ship, whatever happened first.
It had been a good ship, and a good crew. They had had seven boys, who had all fought tooth and nail against the pirates, even though none of them had any real experience in fights on dry land, let alone out on the open ocean. Osaka Sougo had even managed to kill one of the pirates, and his corpse had been left out to rot on the deck a few meters away from the captain and the first mate, corpse stripped of all valuables. Rokuya Nagi had taken down three more, but they had all survived, and that was what had gotten him captured. Nobody else had managed to land a single blow—not even the captain, who had watched the pirates drag his screaming daughter over onto their ship, not even the first mate, who had spent most of his life on the seas and faced his own share of danger in the past. He had fallen protecting Yotsuba Tamaki, the youngest member of the crew, and had not woken even when he was tied to the mast; the captain, who had surrendered on the condition that his crew and daughter be spared, feared that he might never wake again.
Perhaps that would be the more merciful option. The day was beautiful, but the heat of the sun was oppressive, and all that Captain Takanashi could think of now was that perhaps death was the kinder option when it came to being captured by pirates. He could not stop remembering how his daughter had screamed and sobbed and fought tooth and nail as she was dragged over to the pirates’ ship, how he and all his crew had done their best to battle the pirates, how the young boys had been ready to fight until the end, but when the pirates were on the verge of killing Nikaido Yamato, he had surrendered on the condition that his crew and daughter were spared. The few boys who were still conscious had looked at him like he’d betrayed them—and maybe, Takanashi thought, he had. He had operated off of the principle of ‘As long as there’s life, there’s hope’, but maybe that had all been for naught. Maybe he had doomed his daughter and his crew to a fate far worse than death…
The day continued. The sun continued to beat down on them. There were still no clouds, and though the breeze remained and occasionally splashed water onto the captain, it was barely a relief: the ship’s sails had been slashed to ribbons, and it did not do much more than drift aimlessly over the waters. They would not make it to a harbor or anywhere else; soon enough the ship would sink, and the captain and his first mate would sink with it, alive or dead.
As long as there’s life, there’s hope.
But what good would hope do them now? His daughter and his crew were held captive by cruel pirates, and though it was possible that one or two of the boys might be able to claw their way into a life of piracy, there was only really one thing that those men would keep his daughter alive for, and the mere thought of it made him long to tear them limb from limb. But the pirate ship had long since passed out of view, and though he still tried straining against the ropes, they did not budge any more when the day was nearly over and he had exhausted his strength than they had when he had first been restrained. His first mate had not stirred either, and the waves against the ship were loud enough that the captain could not tell whether he still breathed.
By the time the sun set, its light was painful against the captain’s exposed skin; nightfall was a physical relief, even if it didn’t bring anything to soothe the captain’s guilt and fear over the fates of his daughter and his crew. Still, though, his exhaustion eventually overcame him, and before he knew it, he was waking to the sunlight in his eyes and hot against his face and neck and hands. Now it was painful; the very act of moving hurt, and when he stayed still, he could feel the ache of hunger at his ribcage and the desperation of thirst lining his throat, and he thought, This will be a terrible way to die.
The thought was a relief, almost; he had not spared himself any suffering with his surrender, and at least his daughter and crew will be alive. On the second day tied to the mast, he didn’t let himself think of the horrors of being held captive by pirates. Instead, he told himself that they had food, and drink, and a shelter in which to rest, and that they were smart and strong and capable enough to escape at the nearest opportunity, and that every single one of them would make it out, safe and alive.
Around midday, or what the captain hoped was midday, because that would bring relief from the sun all the quicker, there was a rasping groan from the other side of the mast. The captain strained against his ropes, but he could not push against them even as much as he had the evening prior, and every movement came with the sensation of a thousand hot needles pressing under his stiffened skin. He could not see his first mate at all, but he could still hear the pained groans behind him and feel the ropes tighten ever so slightly as his first mate’s muscles tensed up for the first time since they’d been tied up here.
The captain swallowed, trying to wet his throat enough to speak properly, and then he croaked out, “Banri-kun.”
“…Mmnn…?”
“Banri-kun. Are you alright?”
After speaking, the captain realized it was a relief that he was still able to; his voice was hoarse and low, and his face stung with every word, and speaking felt almost like dragging rocks up his throat, but at least he could still communicate, and the relief that his first mate yet lived brought as much relief as a cool, clear stream of drinking water.
“What…what happened…” The first mate coughed, a dry and terrible thing, and the captain’s heart ached.
What to say? How could the captain explain his surrender? Even now, thinking of the knife at Yamato’s throat and the option given him, he didn’t think he could have made another choice, didn’t think he could have thrown away the life of one member of his crew on the chance that everyone else would make it to safety, but…he’d still surrendered. He’d still given up…
“…Yu…ki?”
“What?”
“Yuki…are you…alright? What…happened?”
The captain felt something very cold grow in his stomach. He knew of his first mate’s past—born the son of a rich merchant family, he had been engaged to the prince of a minor nation during the course of his parents’ divorce. He had fallen deeply in love with his fiancé, but had left him after sustaining an injury that meant that said fiancé would be indebted to another for his medical care. Right before this voyage, they had gotten word that his former fiancé had married an old mutual friend of theirs, and though the captain had worried for his first mate’s heart, especially with everyone around them excitedly discussing the nuptials, the first mate had been happier than anyone that the two lovers had wed, and had told the captain about how they had clearly loved each other even during his own engagement, and how pleased he was that they had finally tied the knot. But aside from explaining his history upon being hired, and that one comment after his ex-fiancé’s marriage, the first mate never mentioned the man; that fact, on top of his first mate’s delirium, made the situation suddenly even more concerning.
“Banri-kun,” he said. “What do you remember?”
“Yuki…”
Probably not enough, then. It could be fever, or the results of a new blow to the head; this delirium might last the duration of the first mate’s life, or he might pull through it and know what was happening to him as he died, and whose fault it was.
“…what’s…wrong? You never call me…by my name…”
But the least he could do was to soothe his first mate as they waited to die. Perhaps it would be kinder if the delirium did not fade, if he thought he was with his beloved until the end.
“…Sorry, Ban,” the captain said carefully. “I was worried.”
“Don’t…be so consi…derate of me,” said his first mate. “It’s…creepy.”
So the second day passed. It was almost a relief when his first mate stopped answering him, either because he’d lost consciousness again or lost the energy to speak or died. The captain found himself hoping that it was the latter, that his first mate had died believing that he was with the person he loved more than anything else in the world, and that he would no longer have to suffer here.
As long as there’s life, there’s hope. What a joke.
And on the third day, the captain’s mind, too, did not wake along with his burnt and aching body. But on that day, in the afternoon, another ship came by, a much larger merchant ship, and its captain recognized the gutted ship floating aimlessly out on the sea, and he swore low in his throat, and even through Yaotome Sousuke had sworn years ago that if Takanashi Otoharu was ever in trouble he would help him laughingly into his grave, he ordered his crew to board the other ship and bring any survivors they found, so that his doctor could give them medical care as quickly as possible. He watched as the sunburnt and unconscious captain and first mate were carried on to his ship, and entered the medical bay as soon as he had nothing left to keep him away, and as he watched his old rival sleep, he thought to himself, Musubi, you really have ruined me, haven’t you?