Weiss Kreuz Fan Fiction ❯ A Star to Steer By ❯ Chapter 3

For Phoenix, because she asked me to.

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Dragging Yohji by the rope tied behind him, Ran must have decided, was inefficient. After three steps strong graceful fingers wrapped around his bicep instead, and Ran guided Yohji below without a word. Now Yohji knew there was something wrong with him, because no matter how beautiful his captor, or how frightening the alternatives, he should not have been looking forward to this.

Hell, it sure beat being on deck when Farfarello came back, probably spitting mad about his unplanned bath.

Ran guided Yohji to a tiny cabin, two bunks and a desk and room to walk from the door to the desk, and sat him on the bed. Then the redhead left.

Yohji sat on the pillow of the most beautiful man he’d ever seen, and wondered if he should be relieved or annoyed. He was quite certain he shouldn’t be disappointed.

Awkward though it was–he was still bound, and gagged!–he got up to look around. The space was tiny, but it still held a little of the personality of the apparently-taciturn redhead.

The top bunk held neatly folded clothes and several large books. Yohji’s eyebrows rose. History, poetry, essays—hard slogging, all of it, with not a laugh or a titter the whole way through. What was the point in the carefree life of a pirate, if you were going to read stuff like that?

On the wall above the desk was a half-finished embroidery sampler in a frame. Yohji frowned. What the hell was a pirate doing with a sampler? Unless it was Ran's own work? He snickered at the idea of the swordsman bent over needlework, glaring as he poked himself...

The desk held–charts, maybe. Some letters. Yohji would have rifled them cheerfully, if he’d had the use of his fingers. Who ever heard of a literate pirate?

He bent over and sniffed. Not a whiff of perfume, Ran’s correspondent was not a woman. On a whim Yohji moved to get his fingers on the pillow, moved it aside. No letter under it, so much for that idea. He moved back to the sampler so prominently displayed. The main pattern consisted of—well, it might be a tree. Before it was a—winged snake eating a cat? That was coughing up a hairball? That couldn't be right, no one would put the time into creating such an ugly image as that...

The door opened, violet eyes found him at the desk and narrowed in annoyance. Ran didn’t speak, though, just removed his sword belt and stood the weapon in the corner. Then he sat on the foot of the bed and took his shirt off, started tending his wounds with the supplies he'd brought.

For the love of God, this was getting ridiculous. Yohji stamped his foot.

Ran glanced at him, then continued trying to bandage a slash on his upper arm.

Yohji took two steps and sat on his supplies.

Ow, scissors...

But the redhead rolled his eyes and pulled a knife and cut the rope at Yohji's wrists, leaving him to remove the gag on his own. “I assume,” he said as he went back to his bandage, “that you are intelligent enough to still prefer me to Farfarello.”

“I assume you're smart enough,” Yohji said, rubbing his wrists and getting off the scissors, “to let me help you with that. You're making a mess of it.”

“You'll be amazed to learn I've survived twenty years without your assistance.”

“That long?” Yohji growled, and snatched the ends of the bandage Ran was trying to knot. “It's slipped already, it's not going to hold.”

“Kudou—“

Yohji leaned back to stare, and lost himself in those eyes again. Violet... He shook his head. “How do you know my name?”

“Are you going to do something with that?”

Bastard. Yohji adjusted the bandage and knotted it carefully, tight enough but not too tight. He tried to ignore the thoughts that wandered by as his fingers brushed that pale smooth skin. Ran really didn't seem interested.

And he wasn't tied up anymore. Damn.

No, wait, that should be a good thing...

Under his hands Ran was a silk-covered statue, even when he prodded the bandage to test it, the man didn't move. Yohji found himself looking for more wounds. And found them.

“Turn your back.”

At least the proud idiot didn't protest he was perfectly competent to deal with that injury. He turned his back. Yohji cleaned the slice carefully and slowly.

“How do you know my name?” he asked again. Softer than he'd meant to, speaking into that stunning hair. Ran twitched at that.

“Yohji Kudou, oldest son of Earl Eton Kudou and the Countess Elizabeth of Norshire. Who, after the death of her lord, right quickly married the Viscount Dering. Said gentleman being a wise and trusted friend of the soveriegn, and Yohji Kudou by all accounts a wastrel rogue, the Viscount now administers Norshire, earl in all but name.” That crimson hair tickled Yohji's nose as Ran tossed his head. “In this world, it pays a man to know his...superiors.”

“Wastrel rogue?” Yohji demanded. “I was eight years old!”

“Some traits show early.” Ran shrugged his shoulders. “Are you done?”

“This one is done.” Yohji caught the swordsman's arm and started on the next wound before the stubborn fool could take over again. “How do you know I'm Yohji Kudou, though?”

“You're wearing your family crest, Kudou. As the other male of your line joined a monastery and so is presumably not wandering the seas in such clothes, it is a rather short leap of logic.”

Oh.

This pirate was more knowledgeable than half the peers of the realm, if he could identify Yohji by his ascot.

What was wrong with his clothes? They were a lot better than Ran's threadbare things.

“Is that...why you saved me?” damn it?

“One must ingratiate oneself to those who have power over his life.”

“Is that what you're doing,” Yohji muttered, wrapping more bandage. And immediately felt guilty, all of these wounds had been gained in his defense. Ran didn't point that out, though, so he just went on bandaging, and wondered what he was going to do when he got to the one on the redhead's thigh. There wasn't any reason Ran couldn't care for it himself, of course, but there was only one reason he should. If Yohji balked, he had a feeling the man would know why, and laugh at him. He didn't want Ran laughing at him.

But the point became moot when someone pounded on the door. “Hey, Red! Captain wants your pretty ass!”

In a blink Ran was yanking the door open. Fast, no matter if it was one pace from bed to door, he was fast—the redhead moved, the rude sailor hit the deck and got decked. Ran crossed his arms. Yohji reflected that a shirtless Ran in motion was even better than a shirted Ran in motion.

“Ye bloody whore-son, ye broke me nose!” the man on the floor whined.

“An improvement, I'm sure.”

The pirate cursed and started to get up, Ran planted a boot on his throat.

“I don't think I heard you correctly, Morton.”

“I...said, the captain wants you in his cabin, Mr. Fujimiya. Bring the 'bait.”

“Give the captain my compliments and tell him I will be there shortly.”

“I'm no errand boy!”

“Apparently the captain thinks differently.” Ran removed his boot from the man, he started to get up. About halfway Ran used the boot to help the sailor out of his cabin, and closed his door on the resumed swearing. He pulled on his shirt, then buckled on his sword.

“Come on then,” he snapped, and walked out. Yohji sighed and followed.

Even with Ran in there too, he really didn't want to do the captain.

Maybe that wasn't what the captain wanted. But considering how the first three hours on this ship had gone—he wasn't betting on it.

They passed a fish-scented Farfarello in the corridor. He snatched one of Ran's badly-tied bandages and darted away laughing.

“What's wrong with him?” Yohji asked.

“Used to be a pearl diver,” a passing sailor answered. Because, of course, Ran didn't. “We think he stayed under too long.”

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Oh, before I forget—they're not mine. * sigh *