I have been writing this story in dribs and drabs between other projects for months, so the first few chapters will post relatively quickly, but then the pace will slow to a crawl. I apologize for the inconvenience.

Please note that this is a fantasy pirate AU, so it is not set in the historical piracy era, nor in the Caribbean, but in a tropical sea of my own invention that blends dragons, Japanese culture, and pirate lore of the most shoddily researched pedigree. Please enjoy despite its faults.

Characters will be hopefully recognizable, but quite different from their canon counterparts, as their upbringing and surroundings have been very different. Volleyball will feature not at all, and for that I do apologize.

Please keep your hands and feet inside the vehicle at all times. Here we go.

There will be a link in my profile for extras associated with this AU, which I'm calling Crow and Crossbones. I've posted some music and such.

Something was wrong with the floor. It wasn't moving right. Why was it swaying?

Hinata had never felt the floor moving like this before, and he didn't know what was going on. He couldn't remember what had happened last night. His head was spinning. He felt sick.

The air was pungent with the strong smell of salt and fish, a sound of voices muffled and indistinct, the distant cry of gulls. Closer, someone was moaning. It might have been Hinata, or it might have been someone else. He certainly felt like moaning.

He felt like crying for his mother, actually. Did he have a fever? Was that why he felt so bad? What had he drunk last night that had made him feel like this?

He knew he shouldn't have gone to that pub. It was a stupid dare and he shouldn't have fallen for it, but Hinata had always been susceptible to peer pressure. Then again, could you really call it peer pressure when it was technically your underlings who had talked you into it? Or at least kouhai? Hinata suspected he should at least refer to them as his kouhai, but in truth they were all just grubby children playing in the street, and it didn't particularly matter what relation they had to each other. The only thing that truly mattered was that they considered themselves to be a gang, and Hinata was their captain. That the most they got up to was starting rock fights with other gangs of grubby children, or perhaps gathering rotten produce from rubbish bins for use at the public stockade or other performances that invited the throwing of foul-smelling missiles, was neither here nor there. They were still a gang and Hinata was still the captain.

So really, last night when Izumi and Kouji had started going on about how Hinata needed to uphold his reputation as a brave captain and go sneak into the waterfront pub and bring them back a tankard of ale, Hinata should have refused them. He should have ordered them to shut up and stop trying to tell him what to do because he was the captain and they had no business even suggesting that he do something like that. But Hinata had never run his gang that way. Izumi and Kouji were his friends, had been since they first started playing hooky from elementary school together, and they had always laughed and joked with each other and given each other stupid dares.

Granted, their dares were usually no more important or dangerous than jumping off the end of the wharf or trying to knock the hat off the stuffy constable with a slingshot, but truly and honestly, Hinata's friends had never intended harm. The waterfront pub was supposed to be seedy (those of them who had mothers were constantly being warned to stay away from such places, which only made their appeal that much more powerful) and therefore interesting, that was all. It wasn't supposed to be actually dangerous.

When Hinata first entered the pub, it had seemed exactly like he and his friends had expected. It was interesting. It was an adventure. It was full of sailors newly home from the sea or waiting for their ship to set sail again, and some were brimming with gold and happily buying rounds for their companions while others sat sullenly nursing warm glasses from hours ago, waiting for the chance to take to the waves and earn more money to spend in profligate excess once they returned.

A few eyes looked at Hinata with avarice or interest, but he didn't stand out. A grubby street child he was, yes, but he didn't look much different than the two or three ship boys who sat amongst their fellows at the gap-planked tables or the wobbly-legged benches. Hinata filled his tankard with ale and paid with a small coin. He intended to take it directly out to where his friends waited around the corner of an alley, skulking with the alehouse refuse. He could imagine their faces when he appeared, wide-eyed and gap-mouthed with astonishment that Hinata had pulled off this daring deed.

Before he could make his escape to the street, though, Hinata's attention was caught by words from the mouth of one particularly garrulous sailor. The sailor was one fresh from sea with pockets full of coin, and he was therefore the center of a circle of landlubbers hanging on his every word (and eyeing his bulging purse with intense interest).

"Aye, we caught a glimpse of the Catclaw slipping in and out amongst the waves. Those that call her an apparition ain't telling tales. She's like a will o' the wisp, that ship, and her crew are all the same, cat-footed and stealthy on sea or on shore. Before you know it she'll be upon you, and your gold will go to the pirates what sail her. The Catclaw, she's a fearsome ship and no mistake."

Hinata was caught short standing with one foot pointed to the door and the other to that talking sailor. He'd heard of the Catclaw, oh yes; it was a pirate ship and it embodied everything that was fascinating and mythical about the ocean. He'd heard tales and tales of the Catclaw and her slant-smiled captain, Kuroo Tetsurou, and her quiet and mysterious navigator, the enigmatic Kozume Kenma.

"Ha, the Catclaw!" said a hanger-on, a buxom woman with an obnoxious voice that made Hinata wince, shoulders rising toward his ears. "It's a dirty great myth, it is. The Swan's in port, you know. If Captain Ushijima catches sight of that disreputable thing, he'll put it to rights."

"Oi, you ignorant wench!" the sailor bellowed, gesturing with his tankard so vigorously that ale slopped over his hand on both sides. "What do you know of the Catclaw? Nothing, says I. That's hogwash, that is!"

"Shut your gob!" she shrieked, flying for his face with claws unsheathed, and there before Hinata's wide and blinking eyes a brawl broke out.

As brawls went, it was not very impressive. The man and the woman were both half-drunk, and their blows were ill-aimed and badly timed. Still, Hinata managed to get jostled in the general melee as several others joined in, trying to drag the two apart. He kept his feet, but lost his tankard as it was knocked from his grasping hand. He reached for it as it fell, but his reflexes only served him well enough for him to knock it askew in the air so that it tumbled mouth over butt and spilled every precious drop he'd risked his life to attain.

Hinata stood, open-mouthed with dismay, watching his tankard roll thrice over the dirty floor and come to rest in a puddle of spilled ale. That had been his only coin. He'd picked it from some high-hatted gentleman's pocket just this morning. And now it was gone, wasted on the floor, and he hadn't tasted even a sip of that forbidden sweetness. Izumi and Kouji were going to be terribly disappointed.

He looked up to find that the brawling pair had been pried apart, and now sat on opposite sides of a table. The woman rubbed her head, eyeing the man balefully, and he felt at a big red knob on his shin, pouting most fearsomely in her direction. Their companions laughed and clapped them both on the back, mightily pleased by the sport.

"Ay, lad, are you hurt?" Hinata looked up at the cheerful voice to find a young sailor man bending down to inspect him. "You took a knock—are you hurt at all?"

Hinata shook his head, doubtfully at first, then more certainly after he'd patted himself down a bit. All of his limbs seemed to be intact. Still, he looked at his spilled tankard. "Nay, I'm not hurt," he said in a most doleful voice.

The young sailor's voice pealed in laughter. "Oh, but you lost your ale, did you? What a pity!" He fetched the tankard from where it had rolled under a bench and placed it kindly in Hinata's hand, then bent on one knee to dust him off, his hands rough but friendly.

His eyes were sparkling and his hair was cut strangely, showing two colors, black and blond. Hinata stared at him in fascination, his eyes drawn to the sailor's many piercings—silver and gold shone from both ears and from his nose, and when he spoke Hinata thought he saw a glint of metal within his mouth, as well. His clothes were brightly colored but ragged, only the plumed hat on his head in anything but disrepair.

All in all, the fellow couldn't have been more than five years older than Hinata, but already he looked to have sailed to many lands and encountered many adventures. A stirring of something like jealousy pricked Hinata's heart. He'd never wanted to be a sailor, in particular, though he enjoyed all the stories he was privileged to hear in this port town of Yukigaoka. He liked his life as the captain of a band of bosom friends, running where they willed and doing as they pleased. But this strange young man with his outlandish appearance was, Hinata had to admit, appealing in a rough, roguish way.

"There, all set to rights now," the young sailor said, finishing off with a hearty clap to Hinata's shoulder. "Are you sure you're all right, lad? You look much too young to frequent an establishment like this." The barmaid passing by with a tray of drinks hooted in derision, and the sailor waved a hand in cheerful apology. "Fine as it is! Fine as it is! It's a fine establishment, I meant no offense!"

She tsked loudly and smacked his shoulder, then went on her way, and the sailor turned his grin back to Hinata. His smile failed suddenly when he saw Hinata's glare, though. "Ehh? What is it, my little friend?"

"I'm thirteen, you know!" Hinata said, waving his tankard in pure frustration. He knew he was short, short for his age and short for his captaincy, but he hated to be underestimated. "I'm plenty old enough to visit a pub! Don't look down on me!" He waved a finger in the young man's face, supremely irritated that he had to point upward to do so, even with the sailor bending down to face him.

The sailor leaned back, waving his hands once again to dispel Hinata's irritation. "Ara, I meant no offense, young master!" He rubbed the back of his head, his smile twisted at one corner. "It does seem my day to be causing offense without meaning to, doesn't it? Truly, I meant no harm."

Hinata watched him narrowly for a moment. "I supposed you didn't mean anything by it," he said grudgingly. Still, he couldn't help but pout at the empty tankard in his hand. He had worked hard for that coin.

"Oh, your ale!" The young sailor slapped his own forehead hard enough to leave a red mark, then turned to the tempestuous couple still nursing their wounds at the table. "Ay, Bess! You owe this young man a drink!"

"I don't owe that scamp nothing," Bess said scornfully, but the man across the table waved at her, moving his hand up and down as if to calm a snorting horse.

"Now, Bess, we did cause the lad to lose his ale. Pay for a new one from my pocket. It's only fair."

"Aye, Hob, as you say," the woman said, and though the words were peaceful, her voice was snide. She stumped her way over to Hob and snatched the purse he held out to her, then waved for a barmaid. Hob gave her a muzzy smile, droopy-eyed with drink. If Hinata hadn't known better, he would have thought he was besotted with her.

"Are they all right?" he asked the young sailor lowly.

"Oh, aye, not a doubt of it!" he declared, the corners of his mouth turning up in a three-cornered grin. "Those two make a good deal of racket, but you never saw a more affectionate man and wife, that I can assure you. They'll tumble each other over the tables heartily, and tumble even more heartily into bed when they're done."

"They're...they're married?" Hinata asked, eyeing the two askance.

"Man and wife for seven years!" Hob cried, as his companions thumped him on the back and shoulders. Bess growled at him with a most ferocious glint in her eye, then took Hinata's tankard from his hand so fiercely that his palm stung and went to chase down a barmaid.

"Come sit with us," the young sailor said, patting Hinata on the shoulder again as he bounced to his feet. "You were interested in Hob's tales about the Catclaw, weren't you? There's room at the table for you, plenty, with you being such a mite. I'm Terushima, by the way, and pleased I am to make your acquaintance."

"I'm not a mite!" Hinata protested, but he found himself quickly ushered to a seat in a corner of the table, sheltered between Terushima and the wall. Bess soon returned with his tankard, and Hinata found no opportunity to slip off and take it to his friends. He drank the ale, which was very good—dark and brown and bitter. He tried to drink it slowly, still looking for a chance to escape, but Terushima clapped his back and urged him to drink like a man, and Hinata finished that tankard, then another one, and then he lost track.

Hob's stories were good, and as he was fresh from the sea, his purse-strings were loose. Hinata learned more than he'd ever wanted to learn about the married life of grizzled sailors and buxom washerwomen, but he also got to hear plenty about the Catclaw and the navy vessel called the Swan, as well as many other ships that sailed the Shifting Sea, pirates and merchant ships and good upright navy vessels.

Despite living in a port town, he'd never before heard so many tales of the sea, and they filled his head near to bursting with images and ideas he'd never entertained before. He heard the snap of sails billowing in the wind, smelled the pungent stink of salt spray, saw a mist on the face of the waves. He imagined the dragons of the sea, the mighty creatures feared by merchant vessels, fended off by navymen, and sought by pirates.

He dreamed of lonely islands with steaming volcanoes and lush, dense jungles. He thought he heard the clash of swords and smelled the sharp burn of gunpowder, thought he felt the terrifying and exhilarating sting of splinters thrown up from wooden balustrades by the launch of cannonballs from opposing ships. He envisioned the sight from a crow's nest swaying above the ship, the beating of the sun and the tilt of the ocean far below, the glimpse of giant creatures of the deep swimming along beside, blue within blue.

The ale kept coming, as did the stories, and someone began to sing a song of the sea, loud and raucous and not meant for ears as young as Hinata's. He laughed and sang along, and then there were songs he didn't know, and he listened, smiling, drowsing in his cups. Terushima had the finest voice he'd ever heard, of that Hinata was certain, strong and young and clear. He sang about a maid on a shore and a captain who desired her, the maid's defiance and cleverness, the way she escaped with far more treasure than the captain had ever thought to give her, and how she never saw him more and he was left to pine in jealous misery.

Someone with a guitar had been playing along with Terushima, and others sometimes joined in with a tambourine, a shaker. Someone had a fiddle and someone had a pipe, and sometimes between verses they would wail and toodle out versions of the melody that made Hinata clap along. But suddenly Terushima stood up on his bench, shouting and spreading his arms. He was a little unsteady on his feet, having consumed far more ale than was wise, but his eyes and his grin were both very bright.

"Let me sing, let me sing!" he cried. "A song with no instruments, only the voice! Let me sing the song of all sailors, of all who long for the briny deep and a strong wind to carry them there!"

Some laughed and someone shoved at Terushima's leg, ordering him to stand down and let the group have their fun, but he would not be swayed. "One song!" he insisted. "I swear it's a short one. Let me entertain you with my voice."

He was so earnest and straightforward and obviously good-natured that eventually all fell silent and let him have his wish. As the silence gradually came down, Terushima bobbed and weaved, bowing in thanks so deeply that he nearly overbalanced himself, but he caught himself each time and straightened to his full height on his precarious perch.

"Only this song!" he promised once more, and he drained the tankard in his hand in one long pull, throwing his head back, his goozle bobbing in his throat. Then he tossed the empty tankard down to Hinata and threw his arms wide, signaling the start of his performance. And he sang.

Give me a sail and sea and a sky.
Give me a star and a wink and a sigh.
Show me the dragon steam rising from tropic isles.
Tell me a story to pass all the sluggish whiles.

Guide my ship, pilot, straight paths through the Shifting Sea.
Safe course, navigator, your soul flying wild and free.
Lead us well, captain, whatever the day may bring.
Comfort us, first mate, the whole crew your praise to sing.

Gold is the sail and the sea and the sky;
Silver, the star and the wink and the sigh.
Treasure from dragons does not surpass tropic isles.
Stories from shipmates give meaning to quiet whiles.

Sail with me, comrade, to light on a distant shore.
Give me your dregs of rum. I'll never ask for more.

Terushima's voice was sweet and clear, rising above the clash and the clamor of the tavern. Before the first two lines were sung, almost everyone had fallen silent to listen. The melody rose and fell in a haunting surge, like the swell of the tide. It had the sound of a lullaby to it, but Hinata had never been so excited by the words of a lullaby before. He didn't want to sleep. He wanted to sing and sail and have adventures. He wanted to fly on the wind, wherever the storm might take him. He wanted to be Terushima's comrade, lighting on distant shores and telling each other stories in the deep night watches.

But when the last note fell from Terushima's lips, clear and pure and ringing, a chorus of laughter began to rise and bury the sweetness of the song. "Sure, you'll never ask for more than the dregs of me rum!" someone yelled in cheerful scorn. "Pull t' other 'un, it's got bells on!"

"Pretty lies, pretty lies," Hob bellowed, pounding Terushima on the the back until he tumbled from his perch on the bench and sat amongst the rest of them again.

Terushima grinned, not at all bothered by the scoffing. "But it's a lovely song, isn't it? It suits me, don't you think?"

"I can call it lovely or I can say it suits you, but I can't say both!" hollered Bess, and half the tavern roared with laughter.

"Insult me all you want, but don't insult my song!" Terushima pounded a fist on the table, making the dishware rattle. "It was written for me by a beautiful sea singer bard after I gave her the best tumbling of her life. Her words, her words!" He hastened to add the last, waving his hands, when Bess half-rose from her seat and raised a fist to punch him for his insolence.

Hinata, sitting next to him, leaned over to nudge Terushima with his elbow when most of the laughter had died and the tavern's attention had drifted to something else. "I thought it was lovely, senpai," he said quietly. "And I thought it suited you."

A smile spread over Terushima's face, swift and involuntary, softer and more personal-looking than his usual broad grins. "Thank you, Hinata-chan," he said just as quietly. "You're a good lad."

"Would you sing it again?"

Terushima laughed, glancing around at the noisy tavern crowd. "I don't think you'd be able to hear it."

"Please, please would you sing it again? I'll listen very hard."

Hinata really wasn't sure why he was begging so earnestly. His head was spinning and his eyes were heavy, and the words stumbled and slid against each other in his mouth. Perhaps he was drunk, he considered fuzzily, but the thought was too silly, so he let go. How could you get drunk off one tankard of ale? No, no, he was just engrossed in the songs and the stories and the atmosphere of the tavern. It didn't mean anything. He was just caught up in the moment.

And he really liked Terushima's voice and he really liked that song and he really wanted to hear it again.

"Please?" he asked again, tugging on Terushima's sleeve, and the older teen gave in.

"Aye, one more time." He smiled wide and sweet, his eyes sparkling like stars on a midnight sea, and he sang.

Give me a sail and a sea and a sky.
Give me a star and a wink and a sigh...

That was the last thing Hinata remembered of the tavern. Of last night. Terushima's voice, the smell of rum and ale, the raucous laughter, the odorous, over-warm bodies pressing in all around, the yellow light of the lanterns that had begun to burn in his eyes... It had all faded, slowly and softly and completely, and now he was here.