Chapter Text
If there’s one thing Akaashi Keiji hates more than the Empire, it would have to be pirates.
More specifically, pirate captains.
The bastards think they’re the best things since sliced bread because they command a crew of criminals on dingy, ugly ships.
It makes them so cocky that they’ve started to take over the place he calls home—the ocean.
As if the Empire trying to take it over for trade wasn’t enough, pirates decided they wanted to join in on the fun, much to Akaashi’s chagrin.
Akaashi narrows his blue eyes at the paper in his hands, torn at the edges, curling from the ocean spray, and browning from age.
It’s a wanted poster of the Pirate King—Bokuto Koutarou. Apparently one of the best pirate captains out there, though the title never fails to make Akaashi smile.
It’s the most stupid title he’s ever heard.
The poster showcases a man with round eyes, one thick dark eyebrow raised, a smirk on his lips, and a black tri-cornered hat with a feather poking out of the top of it.
WANTED: BOKUTO KOUTAROU; 10,000 SILVER REWARD runs along the top.
Akaashi puts it in the water and lets it float away.
The man looks absolutely and utterly insufferable.
And Akaashi is trying to get on his raggedy ship.
Not for the reward money—no, something much more valuable than that.
Akaashi had heard whisperings of a map leading to a treasure so powerful that it can get rid of the ruthless emperor who forcefully took the throne and land, and the ‘monstrous’ sirens who live under the ocean waves.
Are the rumors true? Akaashi doesn’t know. But if they are true, does that mean he can use it against pirates and the Empire instead?
He has to find out. For him, and for his people who are being killed left and right by them.
Truth be told, Akaashi couldn’t tell you how the feud between pirates and sirens really started. It was either with a siren killing a pirate or vice versa, but the details are so foggy that it’s never been confirmed.
If you asked Akaashi what he thought, he’d say it was the latter. The no-good, big-headed bastards wanted the ocean for themselves to inflate their egos even more, and sirens clearly wouldn’t let that happen.
If you asked a pirate, they would say the former. That sirens are monsters, inhuman, who enjoy driving pirates and humans alike insane with their hauntingly beautiful songs to the point of drowning themselves.
In Akaashi’s humble and clearly unbiased opinion, sirens aren’t the ones who started it. They were a peaceful folk, living in deep waters and singing the songs they treasure so dearly. It’s not their fault that sailors decided to come too close, that their human ears and minds can’t handle it.
But despite the years of feuding, sirens and pirates have only one thing in common—their mutual hatred for the Empire.
But that mutual hatred doesn’t stop them from hating each other more.
To him, who started the feud doesn’t really matter. The fact still stands that pirates and the Empire are actively trying to take over his home, and both of them kill sirens any chance they get.
So Akaashi plans to do the same to them.
By swiping that map from right under pirate captain Bokuto’s nose.
“Help!” he calls out, voice carrying on the wind.
Akaashi sits on a large piece of plywood in the middle of the ocean. He wears a dark blue satin shirt, a brown leather belt tied around his waist, black cotton pants, dark brown leather boots, and a black bandana around his head.
It’s extremely ironic.
He’s dressed as a lowly pirate. A lowly pirate whose ship was attacked by sirens, leaving him stranded and helpless.
The perfect ploy to get on Bokuto’s ship. Which pirate would refuse to help a fellow pirate out who’d been attacked by the things they hate so much?
Although, it isn’t going exactly according to plan.
He’d spent weeks listening in on conversations about what waters the Pirate King usually frequents, probably to pillage ships of poor sailors just fishing for food.
Because not only are pirates cocky, they’re just plain assholes.
But it seems he listened in on false information.
Akaashi has been out here since the morning, the hot sun beating down on him, his stomach clenching with hunger.
He very well could have gone under the waves in search of food, but being fully submerged in salt water brings out his siren form, and his plans would be ruined if the pirate captain saw him like that.
At least he could drink the water.
Now the sun is starting to set, disappearing behind the horizon. The sky looks as of it someone dipped a paintbrush into orange, pink, and yellow and streaked it across the sky.
It’s beautiful. If he closes his eyes and concentrates, he can hear the songs of his fellow people echoing in his ears. It’s been a while since he’s heard the songs of his people—and his own.
“Ahoy! Cast away!”
Akaashi’s eyes fly open, heart rate sky-rocketing as he whips his head behind him.
A ship crawls towards him on the darkening waves. It’s huge, with three separate masts adorned with black sails. A large flag waves on the wind, a black background with a feline looking animal outlined in gold.
It occurs to Akaashi that he didn’t do enough research to know what Bokuto’s flag looked like, or what his crew name was. Fuck.
Akaashi can see the shadows of the crew members as they lean over the railing to get a look at him, but they’re too far away for him to make out their faces.
Please, for the love of the Goddess, be Bokuto’s ship. He never thought he would pray that he’d meet a pirate captain, but desperate times call for desperate measures, clearly.
Akaashi gets up on his knees, careful not to fall off of the wooden board, waving his hands over his head. “I’m here! Help!”
A wooden and rope ladder is thrown out, cascading along the side of the ship before hovering over the water. The ship starts to lose momentum, crawling towards him a bit slower now, but he knows it won’t have time to stop completely.
“Grab on!” someone shouts.
The ship comes in close, and Akaashi leaps towards the dingy ladder. He grips onto the rope so hard that it burns his skin, but at least he’s where he’s supposed to be.
Another tiny step towards freeing his people.
Akaashi’s world tilts. He almost teeters off the ladder and straight into the water. He grips the ladder tightly, the rough rope tearing the skin of his palms.
Fuck, the lack of food and hours in the sunlight is getting to him. He’s going to pass out on this stupid ladder before he can even do anything.
Akaashi grits his teeth. No. He’s going to do this.
As he hauls himself up the ladder, his body seems to grow heavier and heavier. It gets harder to lift up his hand to grab the next rung, gets harder to lift his leg to haul himself up.
Black spots swim around his vision, like schools of fish. But he’s almost there. He doesn’t particularly like the idea of passing out on a ship of pirates, but he has no other choice.
Someone pulls the ladder up the rest of the way when Akaashi reaches about halfway up the side. He silently thanks the Goddess as he’s hauled onto the main deck.
“Ya alright, sailor?!” someone shouts. Hands are on his face, and since he knows it’s a pirate, he uses the last of his strength to rip his head out of their grip despite feeling so hazy. “What happened to ya?”
Akaashi looks around wildly, the edges of his vision blackening. He has to know he’s on the right ship, he—
His gaze lands on those round eyes from the wanted poster. They’re gold, practically glowing in the dimming light of day.
Pirate Captain Bokuto.
Akaashi promptly passes out.
⎈
Akaashi isn’t on an uncomfortable bed when he awakes, because he knows from experience that those are still somewhat soft, at least.
What he’s on is hard and solid, and he’s been sitting on it for so long that his ass has gone numb.
His whole body aches. His arms and waist feel especially heavy and cold. But he knows he’s on the ship, at least, if the sound of rolling waves being cut apart is anything to go by.
Akaashi opens his eyes to the dreary morning. The clouds are a dark gray, the perfect kind of weather to listen to his friend’s somber songs.
But that warm memory vanishes when Akaashi looks down to see the dark blue water churning under him.
He’s on the fucking plank, and the coldness he felt around his wrists and waist were chains. Not only to keep him in place, but to weigh him down if he’s forced to jump off the plank and into the sea.
Ugh. These are going to be annoying to get off.
“The cast away is finally awake.”
Akaashi jumps at the smooth voice, looking over his shoulder.
The man from the wanted poster leans on the railing, practically right next to him. Bokuto Koutarou, the Pirate King. Akaashi tries not to laugh then and there.
The man is in his full pirate garb. A black tri cornered hat with an owl feather on the top, a black jacket that reaches down to his calves with countless buckles, black trousers and brown leather boots. The jacket and hat are intricately embroidered with yellow and gold thread around the edges. He also wears a white poet shirt that shouldn’t even be on his body, because it’s unbuttoned all the way down, showing off his chiseled chest.
That pisses Akaashi right off.
The pirate has many accessories, too. A dangly earring is on his left ear, matching the owl feather on his hat. And his large hands are adorned with a ring on almost every finger. Akaashi makes out skeletons, black and red jewels encased in silver, and one engraved to look like an owl.
Bokuto taps those rings on the wooden railing as he appraises him, those round and golden eyes traveling up his body, searching his face. Many people have looked at Akaashi like that, but this pirate is the only person he wants to choke out with the chains for doing it.
“Why am I on the plank?” Akaashi asks, trying not to let his intentions shine through.
“If you’re a pirate, you should know why people are forced to walk across the plank,” Bokuto says, still staring intently.
Ah. He’s suspicious. But why? Someone from the Empire wouldn’t make up this elaborate scheme to get on a pirate’s ship.
And a siren wouldn’t go through all this trouble to get on a pirate’s ship, either. They would have sung them into the sea.
It’s exactly what Akaashi would have done—if he could use his song.
But the weariness is good. It must mean he has the map.
“I don’t recall doing anything that requires being executed or tormented,” Akaashi lies. He’s done many things a pirate would want to kill him for, but this pirate doesn’t know that. “A siren killed my crew.”
“And a little deckhand is the only survivor?”
Akaashi tries not to scowl at being called little. “I wore earplugs,” he says, almost bored. “My crew members thought a siren song wouldn’t get to them, and look what happened. A sunken ship.”
Akaashi tenses when someone grabs the chain that connects his wrists and hoists him up. His legs are wobbly as he stands on the sturdy plank.
Bokuto nods out to the ocean. “Walk.”
Akaashi grits his teeth, shuffling along. He doesn’t care if he falls into the water—he obviously won’t drown, and he can get these chains off in a couple of minutes in his siren form. It’s the fact that he’s here, that freedom is here for his people, and all this progress is going to be washed away.
“A sunken ship where there are no rocks?” Bokuto asks him, rubbing his chin, the jewels on his rings glinting.
Shit. Yeah, that doesn’t make a lot of sense. Fuck, why didn’t he think of that? He was so blinded by getting to a pirate captain that he couldn’t think of a valid excuse? Frankly, he’s pretty disappointed in himself.
He scrambles for some kind of explanation. He can only come up with one.
“Those monsters did it themselves!” Akaashi exclaims, the hateful words hesitant on his tongue.
“Stop,” Bokuto commands.
This is the only situation in which Akaashi would listen to what a pirate commands of him. He stops, just at the edge of the plank. The ocean below calls to him, whispering for him to come home. He ignores it.
“You’re saying they tore up your ship?”
Akaashi nods wildly, although never in his life has he heard of a siren doing something like that. Why would they go through all the trouble when they just had to open their mouths to do the same amount of work?
“Come here.”
Akaashi practically scrambles for the other end of the plank, but before he can step off and onto the safety of the deck, the pirate holds out a hand to stop him.
“Just in case, sing us a song,” Bokuto asks, looking up at him and crossing his arms.
Now that Akaashi is looking towards the deck, he notices that practically the entire crew is milling around, watching the scene play out. Their eyes are shining—they’re excited about what’s happening.
What a bunch of crazy weirdos.
Does this captain think if he refuses to sing a song, it must mean he’s a siren? Honestly, he’s surprised this crew hasn’t been killed yet, as he sings a sea shanty about beers on the wall.
At least the true origins of their siren song isn’t known by the enemy. A siren is born with their song, almost like an extra organ, that they spend their entire youth trying to perfect. They can switch between their song and regular singing at any time.
“Good enough for me,” the pirate says. His entire demeanor changes so quickly that it almost gives Akaashi whiplash. Those hard eyes and angular face as if it was carved from stone suddenly become bright and soft as a large grin stretches across his face. “Welcome aboard, sailor.”
The pirate produces a key from his pocket as Akaashi wobbly steps down from the plank. He almost takes a step back when the pirate comes close, before realizing he’s about to free him.
“Finally.” Akaashi tries not to recoil when Bokuto’s hand holds his wrist to keep him steady. It’s large and warm, but the rings are cold. “Do you do this to all your fellow pirates?” he grumbles, scanning the deck and filing everything away for later. “Whatever happened to the pirate code?”
Bokuto pauses, so quickly that Akaashi barely catches it, before moving to his other wrist. The grin stays on his mouth. Akaashi’s hands twitch to smack it off.
“You’ve seen it for yourself,” the pirate says. “Sirens are getting more aggressive. Sneakier.”
They were? Akaashi has no idea about the aggressive part, but the sneaky part, well—he’s just snuck onto an enemy pirate captain’s ship, hasn’t he? But still, he doesn’t know a siren that would forgo using their song to destroy a ship. He wouldn’t even be here right now if he could use his song.
“So is the Empire,” he continues. “I can’t have an enemy getting on my ship, can I?”
Akaashi rubs his sore wrists as the chains fall away from his arms and waist. He’s made it. Everyone here thinks he's some poor pirate who miraculously survived an ‘aggressive’ siren attack.
He has to hide a smile. “No, you can’t.”
⎈
Akaashi gets some food and water in him.
The pirate captain leads him below deck to a small wooden table in the corner. The entire crew sits around it, ready for their meal. It’s so crowded that Akaashi’s shoulders are squished between Bokuto’s and a small, jumpy ginger’s.
A man with a black bowl cut has an arm around the ginger’s, pulling him closer.
Akaashi doesn’t know if he wants to cut his own arms off for touching a pirate for being so close, or if he wants to cut off the pirate’s arms for the same reason.
But he devours the freshly caught and cooked fish. It’s the first meal he’s had in a day and a half, tasting much better than it probably usually would. He tries not to focus on the fact it was prepared by a pirate.
“So, what crew were ya a part of?” A crew-mate asks. His hair is brown and short, amber-colored eyes wide and excited. He must be from farther south, with how thick his accent is.
A man with jet black hair and eyes to match elbows him directly in the stomach. Moles cover his exposed arms and parts of his chest, matching ones sitting just above his eyebrows. “Ass. They just died yesterday.”
“I was jus’ wonderin’!” he wheezes out.
“It’s okay, you don’t have to tell us,” the ginger quickly assures from beside him, giving him a bright and supportive smile. It’s almost blinding. He wonders how that smile would fall if he knew what Akaashi really was.
The rest of the crew, between bites of food, warily look at the man sitting too close to his left—Bokuto.
“It’s okay,” Akaashi says. All eyes turn to him. He’s used to that happening whenever he speaks—his voice is too alluring for people not to listen, but it startles him because they’re pirates. “I was apart of Suzumeoka.”
“Never heard of that one,” a man with very messy black hair muses. He has a jacket folded over the back of his wooden seat. It marks him as a first mate—second in command to Bokuto.
“It’s relatively new,” Akaashi says, trying not to stammer on his lie. He normally wouldn’t be so nervous, but being trapped in a room with seven pirates and no song as a backup, his beating heart is ever present in his chest.
“What was your captain’s name?” A man with black hair to his shoulders and bright, calculating yellow eyes asks, leaning forward slightly.
Fuck.
The silence stretches on a beat too long, but instead of everyone’s faces turning suspicious, they turn pitying. And once again, the crew-members all look to their captain like he’s a bomb about to explode.
A large and warm hand pats his shoulder. It’s so surprising that Akaashi’s body tenses, shoulders almost jumping to his ears. He needs to clench his hands to not smack the captain’s hand away.
“It’s alright,” Bokuto says. “That’s enough for tonight. You’re probably exhausted, with yesterday and being forced to walk the plank today. Sorry again.” He says it lightly, as if the matter has been swept under the rug and forgiven, but all Akaashi wants to do is scowl at him. “Get some rest.”
And with that, the pirate captain gets up from his seat, finally giving Akaashi some room to breathe, before ascending the stairs that lead to the main deck.
A long silence stretches across the table until the ginger stands up, breaking the spell of whatever dark cloud had settled over them. “I’ll show you where we sleep.”
Akaashi eyes the rest of the crew before following after him.
Odd.
⎈
Akaashi loves the night. The moon high in the sky, the bright stars shining with it. It’s peaceful, quiet, a perfect time for a siren’s song to echo over the dark, calming waves.
Unfortunately, he can’t admire it tonight. He has a mission to complete.
After sleeping in the most uncomfortable sleeping arrangement he’s ever witnessed (a hammock tied to two wooden beams that hold up the two floors above him) for most of the day, Akaashi had waited for the crew to settle into their own hammocks before springing into action.
He sneaks farther below deck, weaving between the hammocks where the other pirates sleep. The wood creaks under his feet, but no one wakes up. He has an excuse if he’s caught, anyway.
The floor below the sleeping quarter’s is piled with boxes around the middle, but large, metal cannons line the edges of the wall, peeking out through holes carved into the wood. The ocean wind whistles through, ruffling his hair.
The boxes in here are filled with gunpowder and cannon balls. He doesn’t think a map would be here, where it has the possibility to be smudged with gunpowder or disintegrated by a cannon shooting.
Akaashi goes farther below.
The lowest floor is covered in riches. Gems, jewels, coins, rings and necklaces and earrings worth more money than Akaashi might ever see in his life. Where did this crew get these?
Not from looting and pillaging a poor sailor’s ship, that’s for sure. That’s what Akaashi thought pirate’s did all the time. Maybe this crew is just aiming higher.
Like he said. Cocky, asshole pirate captains.
He quietly sorts through all the boxes and chests of jewels and riches, but there’s no map.
Akaashi grits his teeth. He ascends all the floors until he makes it out onto the deck. The wind is soft here, carrying the salty smell of ocean spray. Akaashi takes a second to breathe it in, calming his angry beating heart.
“Can’t sleep?”
Akaashi jumps at the voice, surprised he didn’t detect their presence at first. To his right, the pirate captain leans on the railing, the wind blowing through his hair that sits on his forehead now. Under it sits a black bandana, just like the rest of his crew-mates had on after they ate their meal. He wears loose cotton trousers and no shirt.
He has to try really hard to hide his distaste before walking over to the man, but keeping a good distance away. “Not particularly.”
“New ship and all, I get it. Especially after what happened,” the pirate says, looking out at the ocean with a far away look in those round, golden eyes. He looks at it with an almost longing sadness.
Akaashi eyes him. As a predator, he has very good ears, and they’re detecting a very rapid heart beat from the pirate beside him. Sweat lingers at his brow and sticks to his broad shoulders.
To him, it looks like this pirate just had a nightmare and he came out here to cool off.
Akaashi has to hide his devious smile. Now what in the world would the ‘pirate king’ have a nightmare about? He files that weakness away for later, to exploit to the brink if the time arises.
For now, he has to remind himself he’s supposed to be friendly. This is the man that saved him—the man that all other pirates revere. Be friendly. And act sad—your crew just died.
“Yeah,” Akaashi says awkwardly.
Dammit.
“I—I’m sure it’ll get better,” he tries again. “With time.”
He doesn’t explain that he doesn’t sleep well anywhere other than his bed that is a couple hundred feet deep in the water. That would get him swiftly killed.
If only he could use his song. He could send the pirate and his crew careening into a pile of rocks, make it sink while the crew jumps into the water to drown themselves. It would be so easy to get the map after that, killing two birds with one stone.
Akaashi doesn’t want to be next to this man longer than he has to in this silence, the pirate’s heart beat still ringing annoyingly in his ears, so he steps back from the railing.
“I’m going to try and get more sleep.”
Bokuto tilts his head, as if calculating something. “Me too. Goodnight, Akashi.”
Akaashi’s eye twitches. He knows the pirate didn’t get it wrong on purpose, but it still irks him to no end.
“It’s Akaashi,” he corrects, before he can stop himself. “Since you made me walk the plank for no reason today, the least you can do is get my name right.”
That makes Bokuto laugh, the sound light. That same smile that he flashed when he welcomed him aboard stretches across his face now.
Akaashi has to resist his scowl. This entire ordeal is not funny.
“You’re right. I won’t get your name wrong ever again,” he says lightly. “Goodnight, Akaashi.”
This is probably the most civil conversation he’s ever had with a pirate on his own volition. It leaves a sour taste in his mouth. He feels like he should claw Bokuto’s face off to make up for it, but then that would alert the crew.
Ugh. This mission is harder than he thought.
Akaashi doesn’t exactly know how to respond to that, so all he does is nod stiffly. He’s already been more than friendly enough to disappoint siren-kind; returning a goodnight would make it even worse.
So he makes his way to the opening that leads to the lower decks. He can hear one of the stupid crew members snoring from up here.
Out of the corner of his eye, he watches Bokuto produce a key from his pocket and unlock the door to his private captain’s quarters, before slipping inside. The lock slipping back in place echoes in his ears.
Akaashi’s heart hammers against his chest, breathing a bit shallow.
The map.
It’s in there, it has to be. And Akaashi bets the captain is the only one who has that key.
He could probably steal the key if he wanted, but he’d have to get extremely close to do that, and Akaashi is sure the pirate would notice. He’d especially notice a map going missing from his room as soon as the ‘cast away’ boards his ship.
Akaashi will have to somehow get into the room right before they dock at land, so he can steal it and slip away, as if he never set foot on this ship in the first place.
And to do that…
Akaashi sighs, putting his head in his hands.
If he thought being friendly was bad, the things he’ll have to do are much worse.
If he’s unable to use his song, he’ll have to use his other set of skills. His allure.
He’s going to have to seduce the pirate captain.