[Fiction] In which we serve [ Uruha x Reita] - One shot
Title: In which we serve
Chapter: 1/1
Author:
Genre: AU, piratery
Warnings: violence, war, language… crack.
Rating: PG-15 for safety.
Pairing(s): Uruha x Reita / [Reita’s POV]
Band(s): the GazettE
Disclaimer: Let’s pretend I do own them. Will I be wasting time writing this thing? Seriously?
Summary:
Comments: After watching war movies all day, I thought about writing this. Replace navy with Pirates and you get “In which we serve” sexy ass pirate version. I’m warning you, it’s not about love. It’s about… just read. Comments/critique appreciated and help one stay motivated. And if it’s between [], it’s a picture.
“Get down!” a stern voice sounded, as harsh as a thunder, covering for just a second the sounds of the bullets that went over our heads and I felt an even firmer hand pushing my head to the wood covering the deck. A cannon-ball flew over our ship, sending splinters everywhere. I stood there until I felt the last small piece of wood hit my body, after the uproar on the deck fell into a sudden, second-long silence, then I lifted my head. Next to me, sprawled on his stomach and coughing up oversized sawdust was none other than my captain.
“You ok tha’r, lad?” he asked me as he got up, but didn’t wait for a response. Instead, he took a look at the ship next to ours, The Amaranth, and smirked. It was heavily damaged, but not enough; its men kept firing in us.
“Cap’n!” our ferryman cried. “Shan’t I turn left and make a run for it?”
Run for it? Such a word wasn’t in our Captain’s vocabulary.
“Nay!” you could hear his voice. Whilst firing his own gun, he looked around him, at every man he led, concern in his eyes as well as determination. “Turn right, lad! Put all y’er might into it! Reita! Come with me here” he said, pointing at me.
“Aye, sir!” And I’m following. Blindly, without questioning. He leads me to the big sail, the turning mechanism severely damaged by a canon ball which laid at my feet now. “We’re turnin’ ‘em right, lad. Ready? Heave!” we both pulled at the pillar holding the sail, hearing wood protest as the damaged and out of place mechanism broke even further. “Come on then, more muscle into it. Ready? Heave!” and we pulled again.
As the sail rotated, the wind was blowing in it and the ship began turning right, even closer to The Amaranth.
“Crow’s nest, wha’cha see?” he asked, looking up.
“They’re prepp’in ta run away, Cap’n. Bloody cowards, them.”
“Arrr!”
“What will we do?” I asked, looking in his determined eyes.
“Mak’em feed the fish.” He spoke so easily. “Dead men tell no tales, me heartie.”
“Aye, sir.” I knew just what I had to do. “Ready the canons below. All o’ them. Giv’em a taste of our iron. Smartly, ye scurvy dogs!”
As cannons roared and bullets flew, I kept dodging them and went to the wheel myself. The ferryman was hardly a boy, wondered on the account by bad luck, if you ask me. He’s knees were shaking, poor lad and our Captain, as much as he loves his crew, was to busy then to take care of him, so that leaved me at the wheel. “Go bellow, boy. Help with the guns.” I turned further right, the front of our boat just the throw of a stick away from The Amaranth.
“Fire, men!” Captain yelled while climbing the center pillar and tying a rope around his waist while pushing himself off of it and onto the deck of the Royal Marine’s. Yes, he had vengeance in mind. With his cutlass in his right hand and his pistol in his left, he shot and swayed his blade, killing as many marines as dared cross his path.
Was it a foolish thing to do? Engage an already damaged ship into battle? No. There were few ships that could match our Torrin and The Amaranth wasn’t one of them. Even as our own men lay dead on the deck, wood soaking in their blood, they died for the ship and they didn’t regret it, not even as they gave their last breath. No one dared not to follow an order given by the Captain. No one even thought of not obeying an order.
As much as we are thieves, as much as we hold no honor, there is still one law we abide. We listen to our captain and we worship the ship. So no matter what Captain Uruha said, it went. Not just because of his position. Not even close… because, before he is our captain, he is our friend. And the sea only knows how many times had he nearly died to save his ship or one of his men.
It wasn’t long before The Amaranth started sinking and the Captain came climbing back on our Torrin, spitting the salty water and untying the rope. He turned back, watching the last of the enemy sheep being swallowed by the sea and pushed the hair out of his face.
“All hands on deck!” he yelled and waited until every man alive was standing behind him, watching the wonders of our newest prey.
“Waiting orders, Cap’n” was muttered from the lower ranks.
“Bring me anyone that’s still breathin’. I wan’ta have their lights and liver for dinner.”
“Aye sir.”
You see, there are many things our Captain liked. He loved himself a salty wench every once in a port. He loved to sing his sea shanties while downing some rum and sitting on a chest. He loved to sit on the aft, prop his fore-arms on the wheel and look at his crew. He loved his crew. So much, he’d give his life for any of them scallywags or bildge-rats, as unimportant they may seem but there was one thing he loved more than all. This ship. So much that he’d go ahead and kill anyone who even dared lay a scratch on it. It was a home not only to him, it was a home to all of us. It was our freedom, beyond all. It was what made us men from a bunch of broken down drunks. Perhaps that is why we were keen on losing our lives to save it and our captain.
Torrin. We all loved her but he loved her more. Ever since he laid hands on it, Torrin was he’s sole reason to breathe. That’s why it was so hard for us to stand in a circle next to ten survivors of The Amaranth and not have their throats in a split second.
“Come on, Cap’n. We’re all wai’in’”
He ran calloused fingers through his beard and looked at the man with the higher rank in the group of marines.
“Mak’em all walk the plank. But ‘im… Keelhaul ‘im. Then mak’im kiss the gunner’s daughter.” He growled, wrapping his fingers around the man’s neck. “I’ll ‘ave ‘im made an example. No one messes with the Torrin”
Ruthless… that was our captain, that’s why we loved him. He got his point across, though. Any man, dare he endanger the life of one of our men or the Torrin, will be surely dead by sunrise. The captain would see it done personally.
I saw him flinch while checking the damage done to the vessel. I could tell it hurt him, I could tell he had matching wounds in his body.
“Is she ok, Cap’n?” I asked, coming down from the wheel to look in those concerned yet stoic hazel eyes.
“Aye… she’ll be alright…” he was confident while he spoke, looking at the decimated crew. It pained him to know he only had half of his crew now; it broke him to look at his ship and realize the poor state it was in yet he trusted us to be able to pick every broken piece - of him and the ship - and put them back together to form even stronger beings.
At the end of the day, deck clean of bodies, bullets, blood and wood, the final corpse thrown into sea, everything went silent. No man was in the mood to down rum and sing.
Captain was resting his elbows on the rail, his white shirt stained in his own men’s blood, looking at the sunset.
“Cap’n…” I muttered and propped myself near him. “Shan’t you go rest.”
“Nay, lad.” he let out in a deep sigh, his head hanging low as a tear began to race down his cheek. “We lost brothers today… because of my orders.”
I comforted him as best as I could, with a pat on the shoulder. “No, Cap’n. They left protecting our Torrin. They left with a smile on their face and rum in their veins.”
“I would’ve traded my life for any of theirs…”
“We know. But yours is too precious to take. Be strong, Cap’n. For our bretherin…”
I felt him stiffen under my touch, his shoulders coming back and his gaze lose any trace of remorse. As he turned and looked at the men lying down and mourning, he smiled and kicked his foot twice against the floor.
“Get up you lazy scumbags! Ruki, get behind the wheel, you, lad, turn sails left. Go on, then filthy dogs.” He turned back towards me, nodding his head before looking at the horizon. “Take me to where the sea swallows the sun”
A/N: It's kind of shitty, I know. I just wrote it because I have very few experience in writing action and I'm trying to get better at it. Feedback is love!
Chapter: 1/1
Author:
Genre: AU, piratery
Warnings: violence, war, language… crack.
Rating: PG-15 for safety.
Pairing(s): Uruha x Reita / [Reita’s POV]
Band(s): the GazettE
Disclaimer: Let’s pretend I do own them. Will I be wasting time writing this thing? Seriously?
Summary:
Comments: After watching war movies all day, I thought about writing this. Replace navy with Pirates and you get “In which we serve” sexy ass pirate version. I’m warning you, it’s not about love. It’s about… just read. Comments/critique appreciated and help one stay motivated. And if it’s between [], it’s a picture.
“Get down!” a stern voice sounded, as harsh as a thunder, covering for just a second the sounds of the bullets that went over our heads and I felt an even firmer hand pushing my head to the wood covering the deck. A cannon-ball flew over our ship, sending splinters everywhere. I stood there until I felt the last small piece of wood hit my body, after the uproar on the deck fell into a sudden, second-long silence, then I lifted my head. Next to me, sprawled on his stomach and coughing up oversized sawdust was none other than my captain.
“You ok tha’r, lad?” he asked me as he got up, but didn’t wait for a response. Instead, he took a look at the ship next to ours, The Amaranth, and smirked. It was heavily damaged, but not enough; its men kept firing in us.
“Cap’n!” our ferryman cried. “Shan’t I turn left and make a run for it?”
Run for it? Such a word wasn’t in our Captain’s vocabulary.
“Nay!” you could hear his voice. Whilst firing his own gun, he looked around him, at every man he led, concern in his eyes as well as determination. “Turn right, lad! Put all y’er might into it! Reita! Come with me here” he said, pointing at me.
“Aye, sir!” And I’m following. Blindly, without questioning. He leads me to the big sail, the turning mechanism severely damaged by a canon ball which laid at my feet now. “We’re turnin’ ‘em right, lad. Ready? Heave!” we both pulled at the pillar holding the sail, hearing wood protest as the damaged and out of place mechanism broke even further. “Come on then, more muscle into it. Ready? Heave!” and we pulled again.
As the sail rotated, the wind was blowing in it and the ship began turning right, even closer to The Amaranth.
“Crow’s nest, wha’cha see?” he asked, looking up.
“They’re prepp’in ta run away, Cap’n. Bloody cowards, them.”
“Arrr!”
“What will we do?” I asked, looking in his determined eyes.
“Mak’em feed the fish.” He spoke so easily. “Dead men tell no tales, me heartie.”
“Aye, sir.” I knew just what I had to do. “Ready the canons below. All o’ them. Giv’em a taste of our iron. Smartly, ye scurvy dogs!”
As cannons roared and bullets flew, I kept dodging them and went to the wheel myself. The ferryman was hardly a boy, wondered on the account by bad luck, if you ask me. He’s knees were shaking, poor lad and our Captain, as much as he loves his crew, was to busy then to take care of him, so that leaved me at the wheel. “Go bellow, boy. Help with the guns.” I turned further right, the front of our boat just the throw of a stick away from The Amaranth.
“Fire, men!” Captain yelled while climbing the center pillar and tying a rope around his waist while pushing himself off of it and onto the deck of the Royal Marine’s. Yes, he had vengeance in mind. With his cutlass in his right hand and his pistol in his left, he shot and swayed his blade, killing as many marines as dared cross his path.
Was it a foolish thing to do? Engage an already damaged ship into battle? No. There were few ships that could match our Torrin and The Amaranth wasn’t one of them. Even as our own men lay dead on the deck, wood soaking in their blood, they died for the ship and they didn’t regret it, not even as they gave their last breath. No one dared not to follow an order given by the Captain. No one even thought of not obeying an order.
As much as we are thieves, as much as we hold no honor, there is still one law we abide. We listen to our captain and we worship the ship. So no matter what Captain Uruha said, it went. Not just because of his position. Not even close… because, before he is our captain, he is our friend. And the sea only knows how many times had he nearly died to save his ship or one of his men.
It wasn’t long before The Amaranth started sinking and the Captain came climbing back on our Torrin, spitting the salty water and untying the rope. He turned back, watching the last of the enemy sheep being swallowed by the sea and pushed the hair out of his face.
“All hands on deck!” he yelled and waited until every man alive was standing behind him, watching the wonders of our newest prey.
“Waiting orders, Cap’n” was muttered from the lower ranks.
“Bring me anyone that’s still breathin’. I wan’ta have their lights and liver for dinner.”
“Aye sir.”
You see, there are many things our Captain liked. He loved himself a salty wench every once in a port. He loved to sing his sea shanties while downing some rum and sitting on a chest. He loved to sit on the aft, prop his fore-arms on the wheel and look at his crew. He loved his crew. So much, he’d give his life for any of them scallywags or bildge-rats, as unimportant they may seem but there was one thing he loved more than all. This ship. So much that he’d go ahead and kill anyone who even dared lay a scratch on it. It was a home not only to him, it was a home to all of us. It was our freedom, beyond all. It was what made us men from a bunch of broken down drunks. Perhaps that is why we were keen on losing our lives to save it and our captain.
Torrin. We all loved her but he loved her more. Ever since he laid hands on it, Torrin was he’s sole reason to breathe. That’s why it was so hard for us to stand in a circle next to ten survivors of The Amaranth and not have their throats in a split second.
“Come on, Cap’n. We’re all wai’in’”
He ran calloused fingers through his beard and looked at the man with the higher rank in the group of marines.
“Mak’em all walk the plank. But ‘im… Keelhaul ‘im. Then mak’im kiss the gunner’s daughter.” He growled, wrapping his fingers around the man’s neck. “I’ll ‘ave ‘im made an example. No one messes with the Torrin”
Ruthless… that was our captain, that’s why we loved him. He got his point across, though. Any man, dare he endanger the life of one of our men or the Torrin, will be surely dead by sunrise. The captain would see it done personally.
I saw him flinch while checking the damage done to the vessel. I could tell it hurt him, I could tell he had matching wounds in his body.
“Is she ok, Cap’n?” I asked, coming down from the wheel to look in those concerned yet stoic hazel eyes.
“Aye… she’ll be alright…” he was confident while he spoke, looking at the decimated crew. It pained him to know he only had half of his crew now; it broke him to look at his ship and realize the poor state it was in yet he trusted us to be able to pick every broken piece - of him and the ship - and put them back together to form even stronger beings.
At the end of the day, deck clean of bodies, bullets, blood and wood, the final corpse thrown into sea, everything went silent. No man was in the mood to down rum and sing.
Captain was resting his elbows on the rail, his white shirt stained in his own men’s blood, looking at the sunset.
“Cap’n…” I muttered and propped myself near him. “Shan’t you go rest.”
“Nay, lad.” he let out in a deep sigh, his head hanging low as a tear began to race down his cheek. “We lost brothers today… because of my orders.”
I comforted him as best as I could, with a pat on the shoulder. “No, Cap’n. They left protecting our Torrin. They left with a smile on their face and rum in their veins.”
“I would’ve traded my life for any of theirs…”
“We know. But yours is too precious to take. Be strong, Cap’n. For our bretherin…”
I felt him stiffen under my touch, his shoulders coming back and his gaze lose any trace of remorse. As he turned and looked at the men lying down and mourning, he smiled and kicked his foot twice against the floor.
“Get up you lazy scumbags! Ruki, get behind the wheel, you, lad, turn sails left. Go on, then filthy dogs.” He turned back towards me, nodding his head before looking at the horizon. “Take me to where the sea swallows the sun”
A/N: It's kind of shitty, I know. I just wrote it because I have very few experience in writing action and I'm trying to get better at it. Feedback is love!