Izuru and Gin, Merchant Shipping AU
Content warnings: Descriptions of blood, murder, mention of throat wounds
1.4k words
Izuru is faithful like a good hound, undying loyalty so long as affection is returned.
He trusts Gin, his fellow sailor, the thirdmate of Kyouka Maru. By way of being allowed to stand at Gin's back, he knows he is trusted in turn.
For months, Izuru takes orders from Gin who takes orders from Momo who takes orders from Aizen, and he sleeps when Gin says and he wakes up when Gin fetches him. He eats next to him and he sleeps in the hammock beside him. They've grown so attuned to each other in their time on the same crew that Izuru thinks he could recognize Gin anywhere, in any life. He'd be able to do much of the same with any of the people on his crew -his family- of course.
It wouldn't be fair to say that he trusts Gin over, say, Momo, but he takes pride in the kinship that Gin shares with him and which he shows no one else. Everyone on this ship, bar Momo and the captain, listens to Gin. It's Izuru, though, that he eats his meals with and shares his time with outside of their shifts. It's nice to know that only he gets these moments with Gin. That Gin trusts him in the same way that Izuru does him.
One night, after a calm day at sea, he hears Gin's feet creak on the floorboards as he slips out of his hammock.
In cases like these it isn't unusual for Izuru to follow Gin up onto deck and stand with him while the thirdmate catches fresh air and looks out to sea, and he watches through lidded eyes as Gin heads for the ladder that leads up onto the deck. He wakes up fairly quickly, as any sailor does, and slips out of his own hammock with a small stretch and follows through the rows of cargo. Gin isn't where Izuru can see him when he meets fresh air and looks around for his companion.
The captain's quarters are separated from the rest of the crew, sitting on top of the deck behind the mast, with sliding wooden doors that keep out the cool Autumn air. The lanterns swing with the gentle sea, casting deep shadows and flickering golden light onto the finely carved wood of the captain's door, slightly ajar.
Izuru checks over his shoulder one last time, a sense of eerie wariness creeping over him. Hisagi should be on watch tonight. He doesn't see him, either.
He needs to call out, to yell for Hisagi, for Gin, but the instinctual fear of being alone in the dead of night locks his tongue, and he's weak to do anything but approach the open door.
From inside comes a sickening squelch and Izuru jumps forward, sliding the rest of the door open with a shove and stumbling into the room.
The flickering light of the lantern dimly illuminates the captain's quarters, framed by the shadows casted by the walls and Izuru's own shadow. His shadow is casted into the center of the room, where he notices Gin; he's bent over the captain's futon, his silver hair gilded in the night.
"Gin?"
Gin looks up, "Oh, Izuru, I was really hopin' ya wouldn't come."
There's something dark and oil-slick on Gin's face, and it's with a sharp shock to his system that Izuru realizes that it must be blood.
"What- Gin… what did you do?"
Gin unfolds his long body from the side of Aizen-senchou's futon, looking down at the dark, unmoving form. "Does it matter?"
Izuru grabs the doorframe to stay steady. "Gin. Tell me." Something curls in Izuru's throat, akin to a whine. "Please."
"What will ya do?"
"What?"
"What're ya gonna do with me, Izuru? Will ya call the rest of the crew?"
Izuru looks down at the futon, any blood or body undistinguishable in the dark. He looks back onto the deck of the ship and back to Gin. "Where's Hisagi? Is Momo okay?""
"Momo is still asleep, but won't be for long if ya stay here chattin'. Hisagi's on the other side of the rowboat. I only knocked him out, he'll be fine."
Izuru leans against the door frame and rubs his face in his palms. He has friends on this ship. Momo admired the captain. The captain- "We need to go."
Gin just looks at him. "Izuru?"
"We can't stay here. We need to go." Izuru grabs Gin's hand (sticky, slick, wet) and pulls him out onto the deck. Gin is a perfect picture of horror in the flickering light, dark splotches stain his samue and splatter across his face. He still doesn't look away from Izuru, watching him like a wary animal.
"Ya realize what yer doin', Izuru? Ya can't come back from this."
"Shut up. You did this." He lets go of Gin, and their hands peel apart. Izuru's hand is stained red.
He circles around the rowboat until he finds Hisagi's body crumpled on the ground. "Help me get him more comfortable." They lift up Hisagi together, Izuru carrying his torso and Gin his feet. They lower him down onto the floor of the captain's quarters, Izuru staunchly not thinking about what sight his crewmate will wake up to.
They untie the rowboat in silence, and lower it down into the water with barely a splash. Gin disappears from his sight for a moment before reappearing out of the captain's quarters, swinging a canteen from its strap. "Fresh water."
Izuru nods, and they both climb down into the smaller boat, careful to help each other balance.
They row parallel to the shore until Kyouka Maru disappears into the night. It will still be long before anyone wakes up and notices Hisagi missing, longer yet before they raise anchor, and likely into midday before they make it to shore and report the murder. It's still far from the light of morning. They have time.
Izuru pulls his oars into the boat, settling them on either side of his legs. Gin looks over his shoulder quizzically and Izuru beckons him to turn around.
Izuru leans over the side of the rowboat and wets his hands with cool water, grateful for Gin leaning in the other direction to balance the small boat. Sitting back up, he leans carefully forward into Gin's space, reaching out to gently smudge the flaking blood from his face. Gin lets him, taking Izuru's attention stoically, not looking away from him as sea-wet hands cleanse him with familial care. When Izuru decides his task is finished, there's only a few stubborn flakes that stick to Gin's skin.
They stay like that, facing each other.
"Why did you do it?"
Gin watches him. "It's not enough that he was a prick?"
Izuru scoffs, "You've suffered plenty of those in port, none of them ever ended up dead."
Gin hums, but remains silent.
Izuru hands Gin the canteen, who drinks from it before handing it back to Izuru to do the same. Gin turns back around and they keep rowing. They continue on in silence for a good time like that, the only sound in the night the splashing of the oars and the lapping of gentle waves against the hull as they slowly make their way to the right of the lanternlight of a portside town.
"He hurt someone I care about."
There's not many other places for Izuru to look other than the back of Gin's head and the open sea, so Izuru doesn't look away from him as Gin slowly starts speaking.
"She was hurtin' for a long time. He left our ship not long after; I think Hirako-senchou thought somethin' was up. And then this year I heard he was gonna buy up our ship. I couldn't let him near her again."
How funny it is, to be angry for someone you have never met. This girl was hurt, Gin wanted to protect her, and just like that Izuru understands how patient Gin must have been to wait to stick his rigging knife into Aizen's throat.
"Would you do it again?"
Gin is silent for a moment. "For her? As many times as it would take."
Izuru turns this over in his head until he understands. If Gin would do that for her, then Izuru would too. They've hashed this out before. What is Izuru's belongs to Gin and what is Gin's belongs to Izuru.
"Then I'd help you. Every time, I would help you."
"Ya wouldn't have to."
"But you appreciate it anyways."
Gin's head ducks briefly forward. When he speaks, his voice, solemn as it's been this night, is tinged with warmth. "Ya know I do, Izuru. Never doubt it."
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Regulus Black is dead to the world. Dead to the islands. Dead to the people who resided on them. Dead to the crew he used to sail with, and the ones he didn't.
Regulus Black was dead to the world when his families ship sunk in the East sea. Their ship, Toujours Pur had sank. Taking its sturdy wood and sails deep under the harsh waves, along with the residents on it. The Black family was gone; par from the disowned, of course.
Gone for 4 years, in fact.
So,
Why on their earth did Lilly Evans have his diary clutched in her sweaty palms? Why was Regulus Black's diary in her hands?
Why was it just sitting there on her desk after a long day manning the lands and her pesky pirate friends?
Why did she read it? The riddle screaming from the worn out pages was a tough one to crack, it was tricky to untangle. But Lilly Evans was a smart woman.
The riddle was a key, a secret, a clue, a pain in her arse to be quite frank.
Regulus Black was alive, and he wanted to be found. He knew something they didn't... something big.
She had to tell the Captains, she had to tell her crew, she had to tell them.
Regulus Black was alive and he wanted to be found. And he, Regulus Arcturus fucking Black, knew how to take down their biggest rival.
The Sacred 28 Fleet of Death Eaters.
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- a fic I might put on Ao3… but I couldn’t help but post the summary 😅
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