The lost continent

Chapter 1

Kirishima licks his lips. He can taste the salt of the sea on his tongue. The noontime sun beats down hard on the tense crew.

Kirishima’s skin itches. His palms sweat and the sword at his side feels heavy on his hip. He prays he doesn’t have to use it.

He’s along for the ride. He doubts the Iwa commodore will allow him to continue employment much longer. He stands just behind his father and his uncle, as they await the pirate ship to reach their starboard side.

Pirates. His noble family was something akin to exterminators. Their name was known well among the seas. Eijirou himself, however… was less inclined to follow their path. Not that he was unloyal, no. But… He side-eyes his father’s hands, one resting atop his sheathed sword. The same hands that held him when he was a baby held the sword at his hip- one that had pierced the hearts of many unfortunate souls.

He blinks and behind his eyelids all he sees is red from the sun, and he imagines his blood spilling onto the well waxed boards of the government boat.

There were great expectations for Kirishima Eijirou. He was skilled in combat, a good shot, and he handled a sword well, but when the time came, he was no killer. In that regard, his family in the business dubbed him as weak.

His mother and sister would love to have him home. He was here merely for formality. If it weren’t for  his family’s image to uphold, he wouldn’t be here at all.

“Look sharp, Eijirou. Bakugou is almost here. We don’t need your spineless attitude degrading us any further.” his father says, cutting through his thoughts. Kirishima stands taller, seeing the ship align, pirate flag flapping proudly in the wind.

It’s a beauty. Rugged and aged, weary signs of battle marks and scars it’s surface, but it’s presence is astounding, and Kirishima is sure its sails would allow it to outmatch their finest fleets. Its name, Crepitus , a reminder of the unmatched firepower resting inside.

Kirishima could probably grasp the tension that hangs in the air and knead it between his fingers. His blood is pounding fiercely in his ears as the gangplank clatters between the ships.

One man rises. Kirishima intakes a breath in spite of himself.

He’s clothed richly, with a heavy coat despite the heat. His jacket is thick and lined with gold, the buttons glinting as he strides across the plank like the sway of the sea was made in tune to the beat of his heart. He demands presence. His captain’s hat sits atop a shock of white-blonde hair, and when he saunters with an easy grin to stand in front of Kirishima’s father, his eyes flash more orange than the setting sun. The tanned skin around his eyes wrinkles slightly, creasing the faint tattoo beneath his eye, a little x , if Kirishima’s eyes do not deceive him.

Kirishima’s gaze flickers to the hand that fondles the hilt of the sword at his hip, also smattered with ink.

“So, tightasses .” he draws out. Kirishima sees his uncle twitch. “You’ve stooped so low as to ask for a pirate’s advice. You must really be lost.”

“Bakugou-”

The pirate’s face turns stern. “That’s Captain , Commodore. I address you by your title, you address me by mine.”

Kirishima’s father’s voice grates in annoyance when he speaks again. “ Captain Bakugou. We are here to negotiate information-”

“Negotiate?” Bakugou walks back and forth in front of Kirishima’s father and uncle, inspecting them like members of potential crew. “No. We are here for a solid exchange. You go first, since you put me through the trouble of meeting you on royal waters.”