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Chapter Text

The Black Wind had seen its fair share of treasures-gold, jewels, silks from distant lands-but none had ever captivated Captain Sanemi Shinazugawa quite like the creature now thrashing in the enormous water-filled tank in his quarters.
The siren, the merman, whatever the hell he was—Giyuu-glared at him through the glass, his dark hair floating around his sharp face, pale skin glistening with seawater.

His powerful tail flicked, sending ripples through the water, muscles flexing beneath shimmering blue-black scales.
Sanemi smirked, rolling his shoulders as he leaned against the desk cluttered with maps and half-drained bottles of rum. "You're feisty for a fish."
Giyuu didn't answer, only narrowed his ocean-deep eyes, his lips set in a firm, unyielding line.
Sanemi had seen mermaids before-luring men into the waves, ripping them apart with wickedly sharp teeth. But Giyuu was different. He had a regal stillness, a haunting presence that burrowed into Sanemi's skull, refusing to leave.

And fuck, he was beautiful.

His body was a contradiction-the hard planes of his upper half, the smooth, inhuman perfection of his tail below. The sight of him, wet and defiant in his tank, stirred something low in Sanemi's gut.

"You gonna keep glaring at me, or are you gonna talk?" Sanemi taunted, stripping off his leather coat, leaving only the loose, white shirt clinging to his chest. Still, Giyuu remained silent.

Sanemi clicked his tongue. "Fine. Stay quiet." He approached the glass, fingers tracing it idly. "You're mine now, fish boy. You belong to the Black Wind-to me."

Giyuu's lips parted then, his voice a whisper, smooth as the ocean's lull. "I belong to no man."
Sanemi chuckled darkly. "We'll see about that."

He stepped back, undoing the laces of his shirt, stripping it away. The flicker of Giyuu's gaze didn't go unnoticed. Oh?
He could play this game.

Sanemi stepped onto the wooden platform attached to the tank's edge, lowering himself into the water. It was cool, a stark contrast to the heat thrumming through his body. Giyuu tensed, watching him with wary eyes.

Sanemi moved closer. "What's wrong? Scared?"

Giyuu's jaw clenched. "I don't fear men."

Sanemi smirked.

"Then why are you trembling?"

Before Giyuu could react, Sanemi was on him, grabbing his waist, feeling the sleek muscle of his tail under his fingers. Giyuu inhaled sharply, his hands pushing against Sanemi's bare chest, but there was no real force behind it.

Sanemi leaned in, breath ghosting over the shell of Giyuu's ear. "I think you like this."

Giyuu shuddered, his tail twitching beneath them. His fingers flexed against Sanemi's skin, unsure whether to push him away or pull him closer.
Sanemi's grip tightened, dragging Giyuu flush against him. "You feel different in my hands than you do behind that glass." His lips hovered just above Giyuu's neck.

"Soft."

Giyuu's breathing hitched. "You're insufferable."

Sanemi chuckled, his teeth scraping lightly against Giyuu's pulse point. "And you're mine."

Giyuu gasped, his body arching instinctively. His tail coiled around Sanemi's legs, trapping him just as much as he was being held.
Sanemi smirked against his skin. Got you. The water around them rippled as hands explored, fingers tracing, gripping, discovering. Sanemi's touch was rough, possessive, while Giyuu's was hesitant, testing.

Sanemi pressed their bodies together, relishing the friction, the contrast of cool scales against heated flesh. His lips finally met Giyuu's, claiming, devouring, tasting salt and something entirely Giyuu.

The siren didn't resist. He melted into it, a quiet, needy sound slipping past his lips.
Sanemi groaned. "Knew you'd sound sweet."

Giyuu's fingers tangled in Sanemi's hair, pulling him closer, lips parting for a deeper kiss. The heat between them built, an undeniable pull that neither could resist.

Sanemi's hands roamed lower, finding the spot where smooth skin met shimmering scales. Giyuu tensed, his breath hitching against Sanemi's lips.
"Sensitive?" Sanemi teased, pressing his fingers there again.

Giyuu shuddered, his grip tightening in Sanemi's hair. His usually cold expression cracked, revealing something raw, desperate.
Sanemi's grin was all teeth.

"Let's see what other sounds I can pull from you, fish boy."

Giyuu didn't protest.

Chapter Text

As days turned into weeks and weeks into months the sirens only grew more worried, lady tamayo —the siren queen— grew more worried each hour and day. She knew giyuu wasn’t the type of person to leave.

she knew giyuu didn’t leave them, at least not by his choice himself.

Shinobu and Kanae were worried about giyuu, kanao and muichiro were as well. They saw him as a brother figure, Shinobu was trying to connect the dots; He went out swimming for a fresh time in the deep ocean. That’s when Shinobu remembered—the black wind, the ship many fear and sirens were always alarmed of. Dammit she needed to check when they went on sail, when did they go and where.

she ran to lady Tamayo, she was sitting down signing papers while yushiro was cleaning dust off the desks.

“lady tamayo! Lady tamay-“ unfortunately since yushiro didn’t wanna disturb Lady Tamayo so he hit shinobu with his tail.

”do not dare disturb lady tamayo as her hands work miss Kochou! You damn disgrace of a mermaid!” 
lady tamayo stood up and put her hand resting on yushiro’s shoulder, he knew that he would be scolded by her later on. But not right now

”yes shinobu? What seems to be the issue here kocho?”

shinobu was rubbing her tail, the pain was gone after abit. 

“it’s giyuu, i think i worked out where he is after a month of missing ! What day did the black wind go back sailing?!”

the queen and kings eyes lit up but also looked shocked, lady tamayo quickly walked over to her drawer and pulled out what seems to be a few weeks old newspaper.

she walked back and handed it over, the paper read what shinobu feared most. And what was the ugly truth.

”The Black Death sets sail once again ! January 28th 1912, their goal is to grab sirens—or mermaids even. Sirens are worth more so that’s their main point !”

Shinobu’s voice got stuck in her throat, she couldn’t speak—hell she couldn’t believe what she was seeing and reading. The only thing now was the thing everyone feared most. He was gone, maybe not for long tho.

Shinobu quickly handed the paper back and swam fast back to the butterfly underwater headquarters, she needed to get ready to look for giyuu. She knew where they were headed now and besides—she knew his smell. Of course Kanae saw what she was doing and joined in without asking.

”what’re you doing?! You’ll get cold and hurt nii-san!-” Kanae smiled at the smaller siren and swam over to get some food. 

“eat up, if we want to find giyuu—no if we need to find him. We need energy, we can smell his scent and will see where he is, cmon shinobu let’s go.” 
with that, Shinobu and Kanae started eating whole swimming towards the east—where the ship was headed.

<

Chapter Text

Shinobu and Kanae kept moving, the ocean turning colder as they followed Giyuu’s fading scent. The ship, The Black Wind, was still ahead, and they knew they had little time before Giyuu was lost to them forever.

“Almost there,” Kanae muttered, her voice tight with determination.

But just as they neared the ship’s hull, a shadow moved above them. Then—

Splash.

Something—or someone—hit the water. Hard.

Shinobu and Kanae barely had time to react before a figure sliced through the depths toward them.

A human? No—his movements were too precise, too powerful. He knew the water.

Flames seemed to burn in his golden eyes, his wild hair spreading like fire even beneath the waves. He moved with purpose, unafraid. And when he spoke, his voice was clear, unwavering.

“You must be looking for the siren.”

Shinobu tensed, Kanae gripping her arm. This human knew about Giyuu.

Shinobu’s eyes narrowed. “And what if we are?”

The man grinned. “Then I admire your bravery! But I can’t let you take him back just yet.”

Shinobu’s tail flicked, muscles coiling. “And who the hell are you?”

He placed a hand over his chest, as if introducing himself in the most honourable way possible.

“Rengoku Kyojuro, first mate of The Black Wind!” His smile didn’t falter. “And if you want to see Giyuu again, you’ll have to get through me!”

Shinobu’s lips curled into a sharp smirk, her violet eyes gleaming like a predator’s. “Get through you?” Her fingers flexed, nails sharpening into claws. “That won’t be a problem.”

Kanae placed a hand on Shinobu’s shoulder, her voice softer but no less firm. “Wait, Shinobu. He’s strong. Let’s not rush in blindly.”

Rengoku chuckled, his body steady despite the shifting currents. “Ah, a wise one! I respect that!” He tilted his head slightly. “But I must warn you, I won’t hold back. Our captain is rather attached to his new treasure.”

Shinobu bristled. Treasure. As if Giyuu was nothing more than a prize, a trinket to be hoarded by that bastard Sanemi. Her tail lashed, sending a swirl of bubbles through the water.

“He’s not his,” she spat.

Rengoku’s grin didn’t waver. “Then prove it.”

And with that, he moved.

Faster than Shinobu expected.

His body cut through the water with frightening precision, his fist swinging toward her with enough force to make the ocean tremble. She barely twisted away in time, his knuckles grazing the edge of her tail. The impact alone sent a rush of pain up her spine. Shit. He’s strong.

Kanae moved in from the side, her hands glowing faintly with siren magic, but Rengoku was prepared. He dodged her strike, his foot planting against the ocean floor as he propelled himself forward.

Shinobu hissed, darting beneath him, her claws swiping for his side. This time, she made contact—her nails sliced through the fabric of his coat, leaving thin red lines against his ribs.

Rengoku laughed. “Ah! Impressive!”

He’s enjoying this?

Kanae’s eyes flickered to Shinobu. We need to change tactics.

But before either of them could act—

A deep, ominous sound rumbled through the water. A signal bell.

Rengoku’s eyes widened slightly. “Ah. Looks like we’re needed back on board.” He exhaled, disappointed. “A shame. This was fun.”

Shinobu and Kanae both tensed.

Above them, the massive silhouette of The Black Wind loomed. The ship was calling its crew back.

Rengoku gave them a parting grin, his voice warm despite the circumstances. “I’d love to fight you properly one day. But for now—” He kicked off the ocean floor, launching himself toward the surface.

Shinobu cursed. “Damn it!”

Kanae grabbed her wrist. “We need to follow him. Now.”

Without hesitation, they swam upward, breaking through the waves just as Rengoku hauled himself back aboard the ship. The crew bustled around him, preparing for something—orders being shouted, weapons readied.

But Shinobu barely noticed them.

Her eyes locked onto a different figure.

Through the open doorway of the captain’s quarters, she saw him.

Giyuu.

Still in his tank.

Still trapped.

But worse than that—

Sanemi was standing far too close, his hand buried in Giyuu’s dark hair, tilting his chin up.

And Giyuu…

His cheeks were flushed, his lips red, his breath uneven.

Shinobu’s blood turned ice cold.

She barely heard the voices around her.

Barely processed the words.

Because the only thing in her mind was rage.

Giyuu was suffering. And these bastards were enjoying it.

Kanae whispered, her voice tight. “Shinobu. Stay calm.”

She couldn’t.

She wouldn’t.

Not when Sanemi leaned down, his lips brushing against Giyuu’s ear—

Not when Giyuu’s tail twitched, the water rippling around him—

Not when Shinobu knew, deep in her bones—

They had to burn this ship to the ground.

Chapter Text

The Black Wind rocked gently on the ocean, anchored beneath the silver glow of the moon. The crew was gathered on the main deck, raucous laughter and clanking tankards filling the night air. A makeshift feast had been thrown together—stew bubbling in iron pots, stale bread softened with ale, and dried meats that had seen better days. The air was thick with the mingling scents of salt, smoke, and sweat.

At the center of the gathering, the ship’s two cooks sat together: Mitsuri Kanroji, humming cheerfully as she passed out bowls of stew, and Obanai Iguro, silent as ever, stirring the pot with a steady hand.

It was Mitsuri’s voice—bright and casual—that cut through the revelry.

“Captain, can we cook the fish?”

The crew fell silent.

Sanemi, leaning back in his chair with a bottle of rum dangling from his fingers, raised a brow. “The fish?”

Mitsuri nodded eagerly, her pink and green curls bouncing with the motion. “Yeah! Obanai mentioned it first, but I think it’s a great idea! We haven’t had real seafood in forever, and he looks really fresh—”

The realization hit the crew like a cannon blast.

She wasn’t talking about just any fish.

She meant 𝐓𝐇𝐄 fish.

The one shackled near the captain’s quarters.

The siren.

All at once, the air shifted.

A few crew members laughed nervously, others stole uneasy glances toward the dark-haired prisoner bound in chains. Giyuu, stripped of his usual element, was seated on the wooden deck, his tail sprawled beside him, shimmering darkly under the lantern light. His wrists were bound with heavy iron cuffs, attached to a thick chain bolted into the deck.

Though his face remained unreadable, his body was tense, his powerful tail twitching ever so slightly.

Obanai, who had been listening quietly, finally spoke.

“Meat is meat.”

His voice was flat, matter-of-fact, as he ladled stew into a bowl.

Sanemi let out a low chuckle, tipping his bottle back for a swig of rum before pushing himself to his feet. He crossed the deck in a few slow strides, boots heavy against the planks. When he stopped in front of Giyuu, he crouched down, gripping the siren’s chin with rough fingers and tilting his face up.

Giyuu’s lips parted slightly under the force of Sanemi’s hold, but his deep, unblinking gaze remained steady.

“Ain’t got nothing to say?”

Sanemi taunted, tightening his grip, his calloused thumb brushing over Giyuu’s lower lip.

“Maybe I should slice a piece off and let Mitsuri have a taste first.”

Still, Giyuu said nothing.

The crew watched intently, some leaning in, others sipping their drinks, eager to see how this would unfold.

And then—

“You’d regret it.”

Sanemi’s smirk twitched.

“What?”

Giyuu’s voice was smooth, quiet, but firm.

“If you eat me… you’ll never hear my song.”

The words sent a ripple through the crew.

A few men shifted uncomfortably, exchanging wary glances. Everyone had heard the stories.

Sirens were 𝐝𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐥𝐲, yes—but their voices were worse.

A siren’s song could drag an entire fleet to ruin, lead men into the depths with nothing but a melody. But there were rarer tales—ones spoken in hushed voices, with both fear and fascination—of sirens who had a different kind of song.

One that didn’t kill.

One that bewitched.

Sanemi’s grip loosened slightly. Just enough for Giyuu to tilt his head ever so slightly, lips barely ghosting over Sanemi’s fingers.

A slow, knowing smile curled at the edges of the siren’s mouth.

“And I think you want to hear it,”

Giyuu murmured.

Sanemi’s jaw clenched.

For the first time since capturing him, something shifted.

It was subtle, but Giyuu felt it.

The slight pause. The flicker of uncertainty in Sanemi’s storm-colored eyes.

He had found his leverage.

And he intended to use it.

Chapter Text

The air aboard The Black Wind was thick with tension. Though the crew eventually returned to their feast, the atmosphere had shifted. Laughter was quieter, conversations hushed. Even Mitsuri, still oblivious to the weight of her words, noticed the unease and stuck close to Obanai, who remained eerily silent.

Sanemi, however, hadn’t moved.

He was still crouched in front of Giyuu, fingers gripping the siren’s chin, his storm-colored eyes searching for something in that unreadable gaze. The smug little smirk Giyuu wore—it pissed him off. Because it meant the bastard knew he had power here, despite the chains, despite being completely at Sanemi’s mercy.

And the worst part? He was right.

Sanemi exhaled sharply, then released Giyuu’s face with a shove.

“Tch.”

He stood, rolling his shoulders.

“Fine. You get to keep your hide for now, fish boy. But if you’re gonna be part of my crew, you’d better start pulling your weight.”

Giyuu blinked, his smirk fading slightly.

“…Part of your crew?”

Sanemi grinned, all teeth.

“That’s right. You think I’m just gonna keep you locked up like some decoration? Nah. If I don’t sell you, I’ll use you.”

His expression darkened.

“And don’t think for a second I won’t throw you overboard if you piss me off.”

The crew murmured amongst themselves. Keeping a siren aboard was dangerous—everyone knew that. But none of them dared challenge Sanemi’s decision.

Giyuu tilted his head slightly, eyes narrowing. “…And if I refuse?”

Sanemi’s smirk didn’t waver. “Then I find out exactly how much of you is edible.”

Silence stretched between them.

Then—

“…Fine,” Giyuu said, his voice barely above a whisper.

Sanemi raised a brow. “That easy?”

“I’ll play along,” Giyuu corrected. “For now.”

Sanemi clicked his tongue. “Good enough for me.” He turned to the crew. “Oi! Get him some damn clothes before Mitsuri gets too curious. Can’t have our siren flashing the whole damn ship.”

A few chuckles rippled through the crew, and one of the deckhands quickly fetched an old, oversized shirt, draping it over Giyuu’s shoulders. His tail remained exposed, glistening under the lantern light, but at least he wasn’t completely bare anymore.

Sanemi started to walk away, but Giyuu’s voice stopped him.

“Captain.”

Sanemi turned his head slightly. “What?”

Giyuu stared at him, his expression unreadable. Then, with deliberate slowness, he parted his lips and—

—sang.

It was barely a whisper at first, just a ripple of sound, like the tide kissing the shore. But it grew, curling through the air, weaving itself into the bones of the ship. It was haunting—aching—a melody that clung to the soul and refused to let go.

The crew froze.

Sanemi’s breath hitched.

It wasn’t like the siren songs of legend. It wasn’t an overwhelming, mind-numbing compulsion to leap into the sea and drown. No, this was different. This song didn’t pull. It invited.

And fuck, did it make him want.

His fingers twitched at his side. The warmth of the rum in his veins turned to something else entirely, something heavier, something intoxicating in a way alcohol could never match.

Giyuu’s gaze never left his.

The song faded as quickly as it had begun, leaving nothing but the sound of waves lapping against the hull.

Sanemi swallowed, his jaw tightening.

The smugness had returned to Giyuu’s face.

“Now you understand,” the siren murmured.

Sanemi turned sharply on his heel. “Get some rest,” he barked to the crew. “We set sail at dawn.”

He stalked off without another word.

Giyuu watched him go, his own heartbeat slightly unsteady.

He hadn’t meant to sing. Not yet. Not so soon.

But something about Sanemi—about the way he looked at him, about the heat in his touch—had made the song slip free.

He just wasn’t sure if that was a mistake.

Chapter Text

Sanemi didn’t sleep that night.

He sat alone in his quarters, a half-empty bottle of rum on the desk, his fingers drumming against the wood. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t shake the ghost of Giyuu’s voice from his head.

It wasn’t like anything he’d ever heard.

It wasn’t a command. It wasn’t an attack.

It was a promise.

A slow, creeping thing that curled around his ribs, whispering in his ear, sinking its hooks deep into his thoughts.

Sanemi scowled and took another swig of rum. Fucking fish.

Giyuu, meanwhile, was far from resting.

The oversized shirt draped over him was damp from the sea air, but he hardly noticed. He sat near the edge of the ship, his tail flicking lazily against the deck, bound by the same water-filled enclosure Sanemi had assigned him. The crew kept their distance, some throwing wary glances his way. Others, like Mitsuri, simply whispered among themselves, clearly fascinated.

Good. Let them watch. Let them wonder.

He needed to figure out his next move.

Giyuu wasn’t stupid. Sanemi hadn’t bought into his act—not entirely. The captain was sharp, dangerous, and unpredictable. But Giyuu had touched something in him tonight, something raw and unsteady. He saw it in the way Sanemi looked at him, in the way he left without another word.

That meant Giyuu had power. A different kind of power than his song, but power nonetheless.

And he intended to use it.

By morning, the ship was alive with activity. The crew hauled supplies, adjusted the sails, and prepared for the next stretch of their voyage. The sea was calm, the sun a golden haze on the horizon.

Giyuu remained by his enclosure, watching. Waiting.

Sanemi emerged from below deck, looking just as sharp and untouchable as ever. But there was something off in the way he carried himself—shoulders tense, jaw clenched.

He hadn’t forgotten last night.

Perfect.

Giyuu tilted his head, letting his voice carry just enough for Sanemi to hear.

“Didn’t sleep well, Captain?”

Sanemi froze mid-step.

A beat of silence.

Then he turned, slow and deliberate, his eyes dark and unreadable.

“Watch yourself, fish.”

Giyuu only smiled, his tail flicking water onto the deck. “Why? Afraid you’ll start liking me?”

The words were a gamble, and he knew it.

The reaction was immediate.

Sanemi moved.

Fast.

One second, Giyuu was lounging comfortably, and the next, Sanemi was there, towering over him, fingers gripping his throat—not tight enough to choke, but close.

The crew went silent.

“Listen here, you smug little shit,”

Sanemi growled, his breath warm against Giyuu’s lips. “You don’t play with me. You don’t fuck with my head. I own you, understand?”

Giyuu’s pulse thrummed beneath Sanemi’s fingers, but his expression remained unreadable. He could feel the heat of Sanemi’s body, the tension coiling in his muscles, the barely restrained fury in his grip.

And beneath it all—

That flicker of something else.

Something dangerous.

Something desperate.

Giyuu exhaled slowly, his voice a whisper against Sanemi’s lips.

“Then act like it.”

A challenge. A taunt. A dare.

For a second, Sanemi’s grip tightened—then he shoved Giyuu back against the tank, stepping away, breathing hard.

“Fuck,” he muttered under his breath. He turned on his heel, barking orders at the crew. Anything to distract himself.

Giyuu watched him go, a slow, satisfied smile curling at his lips.

The game had begun.

Chapter Text

Sanemi needed to get Giyuu off his mind.

The siren had him wound too tight, pushing him to the edge with every word, every flick of that damned tail. His arrogance, his daring, made Sanemi want to either break him or—

No.

Sanemi gritted his teeth, shoving the thought aside. He was the captain. He wasn’t going to be toyed with by some pretty little sea creature.

Unfortunately, the rest of the crew wasn’t making things any easier.

“Captain!” Mitsuri beamed, carrying a plate of freshly cooked fish as she practically skipped across the deck. “We have breakfast! Oh, and Obanai wanted me to ask—should we serve him?”

She tilted her head toward Giyuu, who was lounging near the ship’s edge, half-draped over the tank.

Sanemi scowled.

“The hell do you mean, serve him?”

Obanai leaned against a barrel, his mismatched eyes cold.

“She means should we eat him.”

The ship went dead silent.

Giyuu turned his head slightly, his dark blue eyes flickering between Mitsuri and Obanai.

Mitsuri waved her hands frantically. “I didn’t say that! Obanai’s just being awful! I meant should we feed him!”

Sanemi ran a hand down his face, exhaling sharply.

“You wanna eat him?”

Obanai shrugged. “He’s a siren. There’s a fortune in his bones, let alone his meat.” His gaze flicked to Giyuu, assessing. “Though I doubt he’d taste good. Too lean.”

Mitsuri slapped Obanai’s arm.

“Stop it! He’s not food!”

Sanemi glanced at Giyuu, expecting some sharp retort, maybe even a flicker of fear.

Instead, Giyuu smirked.

“Try it,”

he murmured.

“See what happens.”

A challenge.

Obanai’s eyes narrowed, but before he could respond, Sanemi stepped between them, gripping his sword hilt.

“No one touches him,”

he growled.

Obanai arched a brow.

“Since when do you get sentimental?”

Sanemi didn’t answer.

Because it wasn’t sentimentality. It wasn’t kindness. It was something else—something that made his gut churn and his fingers itch to grab the siren by the jaw and make him stop smirking like that.

Giyuu, as if sensing the shift in Sanemi’s mood, tilted his head, voice smooth.

“Captain. I’m still waiting for breakfast.”

Sanemi clenched his jaw.

Damn fish.

————-

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Chapter Text

The first sign that something was wrong was how quiet Giyuu had become.

Sanemi didn’t notice at first—he was too busy dealing with the crew, yelling at Mitsuri for nearly setting the galley on fire and stopping Obanai from threatening some poor deckhand again.

But then, when he turned toward Giyuu’s tank, expecting some kind of smug remark or defiant glare—

Nothing.

Giyuu was slumped against the side, his usual sharpness dulled. His arms hung over the edge, his tail barely flicking in the water. His dark hair clung to his skin, strands sticking to his damp forehead.

Sanemi frowned, approaching the tank.

“Oi. What’s with you?”

No response.

Sanemi narrowed his eyes, reaching in and gripping Giyuu’s wrist.

He was burning up.

“Shit,” Sanemi muttered under his breath.

Before he could do anything else, Rengoku’s voice rang out. “Captain! What’s wrong?”

Sanemi turned, only to find Rengoku already bounding over, concern flashing in his golden eyes.

The moment he saw Giyuu’s state, his expression softened. “He’s sick,” Rengoku said, his voice gentler than Sanemi had ever heard it.

Sanemi scowled. “No shit.”

Rengoku ignored him, climbing up onto the platform by the tank. He knelt beside Giyuu, pressing the back of his hand to the siren’s flushed cheek.

Giyuu stirred, barely opening his eyes. He blinked slowly, his gaze hazy.

“…Hot,” he muttered.

Rengoku hummed, dipping his fingers into the water. “It’s not just him. The water’s warm, too.”

Sanemi stiffened.

Of course. The ship had been sailing through warmer waters—too warm for a siren meant for the depths of the cold ocean. His body wasn’t handling it well.

Rengoku, ever the softhearted bastard, carefully lifted Giyuu’s upper half, helping him sit up properly. “We need to cool him down,” he said. “Cold water, fresh air—”

“I know that,”

Sanemi snapped. But his hands curled into fists as he watched Rengoku tend to Giyuu, the way his hands lingered on the siren’s skin, the way Giyuu leaned into his touch like it was natural.

Something bitter curled in Sanemi’s chest.

He’s mine.

The thought hit him hard, knocking the breath from his lungs. He had no right to feel this way—Giyuu wasn’t his, not in the way that mattered.

But fuck, watching Rengoku touch him like that—like he cared—made something dangerous burn in his gut.

Giyuu let out a quiet sound, his head falling against Rengoku’s shoulder.

Sanemi had enough.

“Get your hands off him,” he growled.

Rengoku blinked up at him, surprised. “Captain?”

Sanemi didn’t repeat himself. Instead, he stormed off toward the supply barrels, grabbing the first bucket he could find and filling it with the coldest water available.

He came back, shoving Rengoku aside without a word.

Then, without warning, he dumped the bucket over Giyuu’s head.

The siren gasped, flinching violently at the sudden chill, his chest heaving.

Sanemi smirked.

“That wake you up, fish?”

Giyuu groaned weakly, his gills fluttering. But for the first time in hours, he seemed aware again, his eyes sharper despite the fever still clinging to him.

Rengoku sighed but smiled. “Well, that is one way to do it.”

Sanemi huffed, arms crossed. “Next time, don’t get all touchy-feely with my damn siren.”

Rengoku grinned, eyes glinting with amusement. “Ah, yours, is he?”

Sanemi clicked his tongue, turning away before he could say something stupid.

Because the answer was obvious.

Giyuu was his.

Even if he didn’t know it yet.

Chapter Text

The storm hit faster than expected.

Sanemi had felt it coming—the way the winds shifted, the scent of rain thick in the air—but the sea was unpredictable, and soon, The Black Wind was fighting against brutal waves and howling winds.

The ship lurched violently, sending barrels rolling across the deck, ropes snapping under the pressure. The crew worked frantically, securing the sails and holding the ship steady.

Amidst the chaos, Sanemi’s attention snapped toward the tank.

Giyuu.

The siren was still sick, still weak from the heat, and now this. The water in his tank sloshed violently with every crash of the waves, threatening to spill over.

And worst of all—he looked terrified.

Sanemi had seen Giyuu glare, scoff, even taunt him, but this? This was different. His pupils were blown wide, his hands gripping the edge of the tank as if trying to steady himself. His body trembled, his tail thrashing in distress.

Sanemi cursed under his breath, rushing over. “Oi, hold on—”

The ship lurched violently.

Giyuu cried out as the force sent him tumbling over the side of the tank—

Sanemi caught him just in time.

His arms wrapped around Giyuu’s slick body, pulling him close before he could crash to the floor. For a moment, neither of them moved—Giyuu breathing heavily against Sanemi’s chest, his body shivering from more than just sickness.

“…The storm,”

Giyuu whispered, voice unsteady.

Sanemi tightened his grip.

“Yeah. I know.”

A siren, afraid of the sea? It didn’t make sense. But the way Giyuu clung to him, the way his fingers dug into Sanemi’s shoulders—this wasn’t just normal fear. This was something deeper.

Another violent wave crashed against the ship, making the floor beneath them groan. Sanemi needed to secure Giyuu before something worse happened.

“Hang on,”

he muttered.

Ignoring the way his pulse raced, Sanemi lifted Giyuu in his arms, moving toward his quarters. Giyuu didn’t fight, didn’t protest—he only buried his face into Sanemi’s neck, gripping him tightly.

By the time Sanemi kicked the door shut behind them, he was already making a decision he’d regret later.

“…You’re staying with me tonight.”

Giyuu didn’t argue. He just nodded weakly, curling against Sanemi’s warmth as the storm raged outside.

Chapter Text

The storm howled well into the night, battering The Black Wind with merciless winds and towering waves. The ship groaned beneath the strain, its wooden bones shuddering as it rocked and pitched in the dark, endless sea.

But within Sanemi’s quarters, the chaos outside was muted. Only the soft crackle of the oil lantern and the quiet, unsteady breathing of the siren lying curled in Sanemi’s bed filled the space.

Giyuu looked painfully fragile like this. His usual sharp gaze was dulled, his cheeks faintly flushed, lips pale and dry. His tail, once gleaming and proud, looked limp and dull beneath the heavy blanket Sanemi had wrapped around him. Drops of seawater still clung to his dark lashes, and his hair stuck to his skin in damp, tangled strands.

Sanemi sat beside him, elbows on his knees, watching in silence. His chest was tight, his thoughts restless.

“You’re a damn mess,” he muttered under his breath, though his voice lacked its usual bite.

Giyuu stirred slightly, his half-lidded eyes fluttering open. His voice came out hoarse, barely above a whisper.

“…You saved me.”

Sanemi exhaled through his nose, leaning back against the wooden headboard. “Don’t read too much into it,” he grumbled. “Would’ve been a waste of coin to let you drown. Dead sirens don’t fetch much.”

But even as the words left his mouth, they felt bitter and empty. Both of them knew the truth wasn’t nearly as cold as he tried to make it sound.

A quiet stretched between them. Not the heavy, tense kind they used to share, but a different kind — the sort that lingered in the space between two people who understood each other in ways words couldn’t reach.

“You were worried,” Giyuu murmured, his voice steadier this time, though still faint. His ocean-deep eyes met Sanemi’s, locking onto him even as his body trembled beneath the blanket.

Sanemi tensed, jaw working as if to bite back the flood of emotions that clawed at his throat. “The hell I was,” he scoffed, but the lie didn’t hold weight, not when his knuckles were still white from gripping the edges of the bed too tightly.

A flicker of a smile tugged at the corner of Giyuu’s mouth, barely there but unmistakable.

The ship rocked again, a rough, jarring tilt, and instinctively Sanemi shifted, pressing his arm against Giyuu’s side to steady him.

For a moment, neither moved. Giyuu’s breathing was slow and shallow, but his body leaned ever so slightly into the warmth at his side.

“…Why were you so scared?” Sanemi asked after a while, his voice lower, softer, more careful than Giyuu had ever heard from him.

Giyuu’s gaze drifted away, eyes fixing on the rain-slicked window. His fingers, pale and weak, curled slightly in the worn fabric of Sanemi’s bedsheets.

“Storms remind me of the night I lost them,” he whispered.

Sanemi’s brows pulled together. “Lost who?”

“My pod,” Giyuu murmured, voice barely audible over the distant thunder. “It was a night like this. Humans came with ships. Nets. Harpoons. They hunted us during the storm, when the waves drowned out our songs. I watched the sea turn red. I watched them die.”

His throat tightened as he spoke, the memory sharp enough to cut. “I barely escaped. And I’ve hated storms ever since.”

Sanemi swallowed hard, the image carving itself into his mind. Giyuu — proud, strong, stubborn Giyuu — as nothing more than a terrified siren, trapped in nets and blood and darkness. It didn’t sit right.

“You were alone out there tonight,” Sanemi said quietly, his voice stripped of all its usual roughness.

Giyuu nodded slowly. “I didn’t want to be.”

That was all it took. Without a word, Sanemi slid down from where he sat, settling beside Giyuu, his shoulder brushing against the siren’s. His hand hovered in the air for a moment before resting lightly on Giyuu’s, feeling the faint tremble still lingering in his fingers.

“You won’t be,” Sanemi muttered, staring at the ceiling. “Not while you’re on my ship.”

For once, Giyuu didn’t argue. He let his head rest against Sanemi’s shoulder, his body finally relaxing, the tension melting away as the warmth between them dulled the edges of the fear still gripping his chest.

The storm outside raged on, relentless and wild, but inside that tiny cabin, Giyuu drifted into sleep, safe under Sanemi’s watchful eye.

And Sanemi — captain of The Black Wind, pirate, scavenger, hardened sailor — sat awake through the night, his hand never straying from Giyuu’s, anchoring him in a way words never could.

Chapter Text

The snow had begun hours ago — thick, heavy flakes tumbling from the sky like feathers from a broken pillow, dusting the deck of The Black Wind in white. A rare phenomenon this far out at sea, and one that made the entire ship creak under the chill. The crew muttered about curses and omen storms, but Sanemi didn’t give a damn.

Not when Giyuu was walking.

For the first time since his fever broke, the siren had risen from the nest of blankets in Sanemi’s quarters, his bare feet silent against the floorboards, his legs still unsteady from sickness. But what stopped Sanemi cold wasn’t Giyuu’s movement — it was his intent.

Because Giyuu, wrapped loosely in one of Sanemi’s long coats, was seductive as sin.

“Feeling better?” Sanemi muttered, eyes tracking the pale legs slipping through the open coat. Giyuu’s skin looked even paler against the winter light, his hair damp and curling around his jaw.

“Much,” Giyuu purred, voice a soft hush like falling snow. He leaned against the edge of the captain’s desk, letting the coat slip just enough to reveal the bare skin of his collarbone — and further down.

Sanemi’s throat bobbed. “You’re still weak.”

“Then take responsibility,” Giyuu murmured, stepping closer. “Warm me up.”

Outrageous. This fish had the audacity to command him?

But Sanemi couldn’t resist. His hand snapped out, grabbing Giyuu by the hip and pulling him flush against him. The coat fell open entirely.

“You’re asking for trouble,” Sanemi growled, lips brushing Giyuu’s neck.

“Maybe I want it.”

Their mouths collided, fast and bruising, desperate with pent-up tension. Giyuu let out a breathy moan as Sanemi hoisted him up onto the desk, scattering maps and ink pots to the floor. Outside, the snow fell harder, the ship creaking as wind howled — but the fire in the captain’s quarters burned hotter than ever.

Giyuu’s legs wrapped around Sanemi’s waist, his back arching against the cold desk as hands roamed, mouths explored, and breath mingled in foggy clouds. Sanemi didn’t even get his gloves off before Giyuu was tugging at his belt, and nothing — not the storm, not the cold, not even the world ending — could’ve stopped what happened next.

It was frantic, raw, hungry — like they’d been circling each other for too long and now couldn’t stop consuming.

But outside, someone was watching.

High up in the crow’s nest, Rengoku narrowed his eyes. The snow caught in his lashes as he squinted toward the captain’s windows. He’d come to check the sails, but his sharp vision caught just enough to see shadows moving in a way that was… indecent.

And worst of all?

He smirked.

“Captain Sanemi… so you do have a weakness.”

——
The warmth between their bodies fogged up the windows. Giyuu’s lips were swollen, his chest heaving as Sanemi groaned into the crook of his neck, both of them half-undressed, tangled between cold air and fiery need. The desk beneath them creaked in rhythm, a shaky symphony against the background of the storm.

Then—BANG.

A knock.

Sanemi froze. Giyuu, dazed, blinked at him in confusion.

Another knock. Louder.

“Captain!” It was Obanai. “Rengoku spotted something in the water—he says it’s alive.”

Sanemi swore under his breath, barely holding back the urge to throw his sword at the door. He looked down at Giyuu, who was flushed, breathless, and… smug.

“You did this on purpose,” Sanemi muttered.

Giyuu tilted his head innocently. “Did what?”

“You timed this.”

Giyuu just smiled, eyes glittering. “You’re not the only one who can tease.”

Sanemi tightened his grip on Giyuu’s thighs. “When I come back—this isn’t ending here.”

Giyuu leaned forward, lips brushing Sanemi’s ear. “I hope not.”

⸻ time skip coz I’m a lazy bitch lowk

Sanemi stormed out shirtless, half-dressed, his coat flapping open over his bare chest. Obanai blinked once. “You smell like sin.”

“Shut it.”

He stomped up to the crow’s nest where Rengoku stood, pointing to something in the water — black and long, moving slowly like a serpent beneath the waves.

“I thought it was just seaweed at first,” Rengoku said, though his smirk hinted otherwise. “But then it moved against the current.”

Sanemi squinted. The shape was massive — easily larger than their ship. His eyes narrowed.

“That’s not seaweed. That’s a Veil Leviathan.”

Obanai paled. “You mean the kind that eats entire ships in one gulp?!”

Giyuu emerged from the stairwell just then, now dressed, and looking far too composed for someone who’d just been ravished. Rengoku turned and noticed him.

“Ah, Siren-san. I hope your… health has improved.”

Giyuu blinked. “Drastically.”

Sanemi cursed under his breath. Between horny sirens, smug crew, and now a sea monster? He was going to kill someone.

But first, he had to survive the Leviathan.

Chapter Text

New chapter coming on saturday, will be long. My ocean drowning eyes willl be updated tomorrow if possible
Little Ms`s favorite customer Is getting chapter 3 on sunday
After hours is getting no new chapters This Week

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