Weiss Kreuz Fan Fiction ❯ A Star to Steer By ❯ Chapter 1
[ X - Adult: No readers under 18. Contains Graphic Adult Themes/Extreme violence. ]
By: KD Sarge 
Yohji is sorely in need of a rescue.
Anime/Manga: Weiss Kreuz Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Romance / Hentai / Adventure | Type: Other | Uploaded On: 11.13.2005 | Pages: 1 | Words: 1.0K | Visits: 965 | Status: Work In Progress
Yohji is sorely in need of a rescue.
Anime/Manga: Weiss Kreuz Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Romance / Hentai / Adventure | Type: Other | Uploaded On: 11.13.2005 | Pages: 1 | Words: 1.0K | Visits: 965 | Status: Work In Progress
A/N–because Ran as a pirate is the most delectable image that has ever crossed this dirty mind, I think.
*******
For three weeks, Yohji Kudou had been convinced that having no women on his ship was the worst thing that had ever happened to him.
Now he knew better. And now he was glad there had been no women on that ship.
Well, it wasn’t exactly the heroic sacrifice he’d have preferred, but if you looked at it the right way, he was giving his all to save a lady, right? After all, it was because of him. His stepfather–nay, Mother’s husband–had said the reason there were to be no women was he didn’t want his son distracted from his studies.
Studies. Oh, thanks, your grace, he’d be learning a lot now.
“Ha!” the brute of a man Yohji’d been afraid would win, threw his opponent down and stomped on his spine. “Mine!” He tossed long, oily hair back and glared at his shipmates. “Unless any o’ the rest o’ ye want to try me?”
Not likely, he’d already seriously injured three men. Yohji had held to his courage through the fight, through his capture and being roughly tied and gagged, even through being offered up as a prime share of the booty, but now Yohji felt his carefully built and maintained, appropriate to a young aristocrat, sarcastic detachment slipping away. To hell with standing like a man, with bearing it like an Englishman. This was going to hurt.
Some fool stepped up though, delaying Yohji’s torment, though he had no hope the one-eyed man would win.
Desperation growing, he looked around, praying against all odds for one man with pity in his heart and strength in his arm, please, this was going to hurt and no matter what his grace said, Yohji didn’t really like pain–
White caught his eye, the biggest, most ridiculously pristine white feather sticking from the biggest hat he’d ever seen. His mother had never worn one so large!
The youth had reason for that mockery of a hat, his skin was as pale as any sheltered noblewoman’s, he was wise to shield himself from even the late-afternoon sun. He stood at the wheel, the bastard of a pirate captain beside him, leaning an elbow on his shoulder as he drank and watched the sport.
Yohji looked at the man’s face, and decided there was nothing at all ridiculous about the hat. It was a deep blue, and it set off that face perfectly.
Blood-red hair that glowed brighter than the sunset, cheekbones to make the loveliest beauty in the kingdom cry with envy, that lovely creamy skin unmarred by so much as a freckle–
And the most stunning eyes he’d ever seen, focused on him. Violet, oh God in heaven, those eyes were violet and gorgeous and Yohji was falling in–
Shouting yanked Yohji back to the group around him. Beyond hope, the brute lay on the deck, a pool of blood spreading from him. The smaller–but clearly stronger–man stepped back with a grin at Yohji, winked at him as he licked his blade. Yohji shivered, and wished the brute had won.
“‘ere, now, Farfarello,” one of the men holding Yohji called. “The rule was no blades!”
“Then come take it from me,” Farfarello answered. Yohji shivered again when he realized that though at least half the pirates were protesting the breach, none of them–not even a group of them–were actually attempting to do anything about it. Even one who stood ready with bandages, didn’t approach the stabbed man until Farfarello stepped farther from his victim. Towards his prize, his smile wide and predatory. Yohji’s mind scrabbled for strength, for help, for any of the prayers he’d said by rote since childhood, he’d never needed so much to pray before and he couldn’t think of a single–
God heard him anyway. The redheaded beauty stepped from the crowd, sans hat.
“No.” He said it quietly, in a beautiful deep voice, but Yohji heard him, and so did the mob. Silence fell as Farfarello turned slowly.
“Beggin’ your pardon,” the one-eyed man said. “Did ye just tell me no?”
No, no, he was going to get himself killed, and not help Yohji at all, oh please–
The redhead didn’t answer, only put his hand to his sword. He was the only one who wore one, now the fight was over and the celebrating had begun. Others had knives and the captain had a pistol, but no one else wore a sword.
“Lucky us, lads!” someone called, “the captain’s girl wants to play!”
Of course, of course such a beauty would belong to the captain. The bastard would interfere now, he wouldn’t risk marring that face, maybe he’d save Yohji too, as a courtesy to his lover–
But the captain, who now wore the hat, held the wheel with one hand and his mug with the other, and only watched as intently as the others. Farfarello ran his eyes over the redhead.
“You know, Ran,” he said, his voice an attempt at a caress, “this isn’t the game I want to play with you.”
Ran. An unusual name for a rare beauty. A gust of wind molded Ran’s clothes to his body, Yohji reminded himself he’d vowed not to think those things anymore. It only lead to trouble. No matter how graceful the youth was, how beautiful, how–
“As you say,” Ran said, his sword whipping from its scabbard, “come and take me.”
*******
For three weeks, Yohji Kudou had been convinced that having no women on his ship was the worst thing that had ever happened to him.
Now he knew better. And now he was glad there had been no women on that ship.
Well, it wasn’t exactly the heroic sacrifice he’d have preferred, but if you looked at it the right way, he was giving his all to save a lady, right? After all, it was because of him. His stepfather–nay, Mother’s husband–had said the reason there were to be no women was he didn’t want his son distracted from his studies.
Studies. Oh, thanks, your grace, he’d be learning a lot now.
“Ha!” the brute of a man Yohji’d been afraid would win, threw his opponent down and stomped on his spine. “Mine!” He tossed long, oily hair back and glared at his shipmates. “Unless any o’ the rest o’ ye want to try me?”
Not likely, he’d already seriously injured three men. Yohji had held to his courage through the fight, through his capture and being roughly tied and gagged, even through being offered up as a prime share of the booty, but now Yohji felt his carefully built and maintained, appropriate to a young aristocrat, sarcastic detachment slipping away. To hell with standing like a man, with bearing it like an Englishman. This was going to hurt.
Some fool stepped up though, delaying Yohji’s torment, though he had no hope the one-eyed man would win.
Desperation growing, he looked around, praying against all odds for one man with pity in his heart and strength in his arm, please, this was going to hurt and no matter what his grace said, Yohji didn’t really like pain–
White caught his eye, the biggest, most ridiculously pristine white feather sticking from the biggest hat he’d ever seen. His mother had never worn one so large!
The youth had reason for that mockery of a hat, his skin was as pale as any sheltered noblewoman’s, he was wise to shield himself from even the late-afternoon sun. He stood at the wheel, the bastard of a pirate captain beside him, leaning an elbow on his shoulder as he drank and watched the sport.
Yohji looked at the man’s face, and decided there was nothing at all ridiculous about the hat. It was a deep blue, and it set off that face perfectly.
Blood-red hair that glowed brighter than the sunset, cheekbones to make the loveliest beauty in the kingdom cry with envy, that lovely creamy skin unmarred by so much as a freckle–
And the most stunning eyes he’d ever seen, focused on him. Violet, oh God in heaven, those eyes were violet and gorgeous and Yohji was falling in–
Shouting yanked Yohji back to the group around him. Beyond hope, the brute lay on the deck, a pool of blood spreading from him. The smaller–but clearly stronger–man stepped back with a grin at Yohji, winked at him as he licked his blade. Yohji shivered, and wished the brute had won.
“‘ere, now, Farfarello,” one of the men holding Yohji called. “The rule was no blades!”
“Then come take it from me,” Farfarello answered. Yohji shivered again when he realized that though at least half the pirates were protesting the breach, none of them–not even a group of them–were actually attempting to do anything about it. Even one who stood ready with bandages, didn’t approach the stabbed man until Farfarello stepped farther from his victim. Towards his prize, his smile wide and predatory. Yohji’s mind scrabbled for strength, for help, for any of the prayers he’d said by rote since childhood, he’d never needed so much to pray before and he couldn’t think of a single–
God heard him anyway. The redheaded beauty stepped from the crowd, sans hat.
“No.” He said it quietly, in a beautiful deep voice, but Yohji heard him, and so did the mob. Silence fell as Farfarello turned slowly.
“Beggin’ your pardon,” the one-eyed man said. “Did ye just tell me no?”
No, no, he was going to get himself killed, and not help Yohji at all, oh please–
The redhead didn’t answer, only put his hand to his sword. He was the only one who wore one, now the fight was over and the celebrating had begun. Others had knives and the captain had a pistol, but no one else wore a sword.
“Lucky us, lads!” someone called, “the captain’s girl wants to play!”
Of course, of course such a beauty would belong to the captain. The bastard would interfere now, he wouldn’t risk marring that face, maybe he’d save Yohji too, as a courtesy to his lover–
But the captain, who now wore the hat, held the wheel with one hand and his mug with the other, and only watched as intently as the others. Farfarello ran his eyes over the redhead.
“You know, Ran,” he said, his voice an attempt at a caress, “this isn’t the game I want to play with you.”
Ran. An unusual name for a rare beauty. A gust of wind molded Ran’s clothes to his body, Yohji reminded himself he’d vowed not to think those things anymore. It only lead to trouble. No matter how graceful the youth was, how beautiful, how–
“As you say,” Ran said, his sword whipping from its scabbard, “come and take me.”