Since he was a young boy, Ichigo Kurosaki had always loved the sea.

Living in the coastal Kingdom of Karakura did that to a boy, of course. Well, either that or it would send them so far inland they would wind up in a dessert just to escape the memory of a foggy day and the sound of seagulls.

Ichigo felt both sympathy and humor toward his plight.

Uryuu Ishida, a fellow Prince from the Kingdom of Quincy, and his longtime (reluctant) friend did not understand his love for the sea. He had found himself a pretty Queen only a summer ago, the daughter of a scientist of all things, and was being groomed for the crown. Ichigo knew it would be only a matter of time before he heard news of a child, and he was admittedly happy for his brother-in-royal-arms.

Unlike Ichigo, he seemed to thrive off the politics of court, and enjoy the pampering to an extent. And perhaps that was due to an overbearing father.

Ichigo's upbringing had been far less by the "royal book", as it were, given that his own father was a damn lunatic. A great and just King, he would admit, but a lunatic nonetheless.
He had been given far more freedom from a youthful age, despite being next in line for the crown, and there lied the problem. By sixteen, he had decided to enlist in the good services of the Royal Armada. In fact, King Isshin had been proud, saying that it was good his son wanted to work with the military. He firmly believed that any young King should know the men he governed, even if they were only a few.

Not being one for romance of any sort, even though he was considered handsome looking in a rough, forbidden (berry) fruit sort way - the Lady Yoruichi's words, not his – Ichigo had never settled down. Had never been interested in even trying. Instead, he had spent his younger teenage years working his way up, striving to soon lead his own fleet of ships. With not the power of the crown backing him, but his own prowess as a sailor.

Ishida had wanted the safety and comfort of his Palace. The predictable, safe environment he had been raised in knowing he would someday rule. And Ichigo thrived out at sea, wherein but a moment the tides could turn for better or worse.

Such a moment was now.

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The storm had snuck up on them.

The wind howled in his ears, the thunder crashing above head shaking him down to his very bones. His clothing stuck to him like a second skin, weighed down and wet with salt water. Fierce waves rocked the wooden vessel he stood on, and its frame creaked loudly in protest but continued to hold firm. No, their ship would not be pulled down to the depths just yet. But they would be tossed around like a cork until the storm passed.

His hands, gripping a rope the same thickness as his wrist, gave hard pull as he and half a dozen other men fastened down one of many canons. He loathed the damn things for being as heavy as they were, despite the many times they had come in handy against pirates. He had already seen a man crushed to death by one coming loose of its tethering, and in a storm not unlike the one currently ravaging the sea. Rainwater stung at his eyes, and he ignored the urge to close them as he focused on his task of looping the rope through several large rings. But with every rock of the ship, the canon slid a bit further and they were forced to correct its positioning and start over. It became a battle to keep it in one spot.

"Kurosaki!" His head snapped up at the sound of his name. The rough voice of the first mate Renji, a tall man with fiery red hair, called him. At first, many men had been afraid to address him so informally. Renji had taken to it with more finesse than anyone else he knew.

Like Ichigo, he was soaked to the bone. His wild mane of hair sticking to his face and neck just as much as his clothes. Any other time, Ichigo might have called him a wet dog. He pointed a finger up toward the main mast, and Ichigo's eyes reflexively followed. With horror, he realized one of the sails was coming undone, and were that to happen with the winds raging as they were, the results would be catastrophic.

He nodded quickly in acknowledgment, and with one final hard tug of the rope in hand, he passed it off to Chad Yasutora who quickly gained control of the situation and began directing the cannon into place. Hopefully, they would have better luck with his dark-skinned friend leading them.

And then he was off, racing toward the center mast at full speed. It was only through years of practice that he was able to move fluidly between the scrambling of his shipmates as they struggled to gain control of the deck. So, focused in their tasks, they were just as likely to send him overboard as the tops of the waves as they rolled into the railings of the ship and sent rivers of water crashing into his shins. Several times he almost lost his footing, but he continued to move forward with lock-jawed determination. When his hands finally grasped the familiar ropes of the ratlines, he began to climb.

Out of everyone on the Senbonzakura, Ichigo was the fastest climber. Truthfully, he the fastest at doing much of anything – the Captains' first mate, Renji, teased him often at the implications of what that could mean in the bedroom. More often, it was shown during playful sword fights and races. But now his skill came in handy more than ever. As quick as the sails were coming undone, he climbed – up and up and up – until he was perched on the edge of the crow's nest, a place he was quite familiar with. He had spent many hours keeping look out for other vessels, storms, and familiar landmarks. He knew the upper masts just as well as the back of his hand. Even so, this did not offer him comfort.

He wiped sweat and water off on his already soaked through trousers, before straddling the long mast and inching his way toward the slowly unfurling sail. His legs were just long enough to hook his ankles together and give him a semblance of control as the ship rocked with each wave it hit. Being as high as he was, it seemed far more exaggerated and violent.

All the while he eyed the rope that had come loose as it whipped in the wind. And he prayed the wind would not shift out of his favor. A lash from the thick rope could easily break skin, or even bone. And that was the last thing anyone needed. He continued to inch forward, holding on for dear life as he shimmied over to the loose sail. Once on top of it, he began to pull it tighter, dragging in the flailing rope and tying it securely.

Once it was secure, he began the slow task of moving back toward the mast. Several cries of terror came from below, and his heart froze. As he turned his head, the world seemed to slow.

It was gargantuan, and entirely twice the size of the ship. Its cap was pure white as it rolled in on itself, lightning reflecting off its black waters. For its size, it seemed almost slow at first. But any sailor of worth knew it was anything but.

Within moments, it collided with the side of the ship, water rushing over the top so quickly and in such enormous amounts, one would think the ship was sinking into the depths. The hull creaked, and rails snapped, sending wood scraps exploding toward the crew as they raced to find purchase. Cries of horror were drowned out as several men were pulled overboard and into the swirling depths.

The horror continued, as the ship jerked to one side, and his white-knuckled grasp proved worthless.

He fell.

He saw it all in slow motion. The way his fingers lost hold of the ropes and curled to try and catch the folded edge of the main sail in the last attempt. How he missed by just half an inch.

The sky lit up with lightning, but he couldn't hear it anymore. He couldn't hear the thunder or the crashing of the waves. He could not even feel the cold sting of the rain and wind on his skin or the heavy wetness of his clothes. Suddenly, he was numb. An observer to what was about to happen.

From the corner of his eye, he saw Renji racing along the main deck. His red hair a beacon in the grey world around them. The only person he knew aside from himself who had been given the curse of such a vibrant hair color. Somehow that felt strangely significant to him.

He hit the water, and darkness fell over him.

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.

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She was not supposed to be doing this.

The thrill of the forbidden urged her forward, cutting through the water quickly with the barest flick of her powerful golden tail. Under the water, the currents pushed against her. The sign of an approaching storm. Even for her, it would be dangerous to continue through these waters. She should be searching for shelter from the currents, not diving toward them.

And yet…

She had seen the ship. The grand vessel Rangiku had told her humans used to travel, rather than swimming on their own. At first, she had thought them lazy. But Rangiku then told her that humans were terrible swimmers, and she blushingly relinquished her first judgment. Her curiosity, however, was piqued.

Mermaids notoriously stayed away from humans, preferring to let them be on their way and out of their destructive warpath. Few mermaids – Rangiku being one of them – even went so close as to spot humans. Because if you could see them, the odds would be they would spot you as well. And the horror stories of humans who caught mermaids in traps suggested they thrived on torture. Rangiku, one of the few lady warriors, had recounted these tales to her having seen them first herself. Likely to try and frighten the girl, and keep her curious heart far away from the world of men.

And for 18 years, it had worked.

Her tales of men and how they beat mermaids, male and female until they cried their precious tears stuck with her throughout the years. But none as much as the horror of finding a few had even sampled mermaid flesh in hopes of immortality.

"Beasts," Rangiku had said, her voice sad as she recounted the events. "Mermaids do not give immortality with their flesh… not that way."

Even so, despite these tales, she was doing what was quite possibly the most stupid thing she could ever do. If Rangiku were to catch her, she would be chained up in the Spring of Penance until the next full moon.

She glanced around, nervous that she would be caught. At the sight of nothing but empty sea surrounding her, she felt a mix of unease and determination. If something went wrong, no one would be there to help her. Adversely, if something went wrong, no one would know.

The large belly of the ship was in sight, rocking as the waves above shifted restlessly. It would not be long now. Just a few more flicks of her tail and she would be able to touch it. From here, she could see the many barnacles that had made their homes on the traveling human creation.

Her fingers twitched, and she curled her arms in, against her chest. And once again, she looked around. She half expected Rangiku, or Tatsuki to shoot out of the depths and wrestle her away. They would surely be furious with her. The thought made her hesitate, even as she approached.

Just a few more feet. If she stretched her arm…

Before she could talk herself out of it, her arm snapped forward, fingers outstretched to graze the rough wood.

A thrill shot through her, a silly smile covering her lips. She felt so brave! So strong, and powerful like Rangiku! She ran her hand over the wood, pressing her palm to it and trailing her hand between the clusters of barnacles. As if petting the belly of a whale.

Maybe, ships are human land whales? She mused thoughtfully.

Her hands clasped together in front of her chest at the thought, her radiant golden tail flicking behind her with exhilaration. She wanted to learn so much more! Suddenly touching the ship was not enough. What could she learn just from touching it? Maybe if she could catch a peek of a human…

She shook her head as if dispelling the thought, her incredibly long sunset colored hair drifting in a soft dance around her head from the abrupt movement.

"Oh no… no… that's a terrible idea…" She murmured to herself, casting large curious eyes up toward the ship despite herself.

Rangiku had said they even looked different. That they had… legs.

She couldn't take it. Quick as a flash, she was swimming up toward the surface, trailing her hand along the belly of the ship as it widened, and barnacles became fewer and fewer.

She stopped. Just feet from appearing through the water. The last shred of her self-preservation was insistent on fighting her. She bit her lip before squeezing her eyes shut and flicking her tail once to push through the surface.

Immediately, she was met with frigid air and the spray of sea water. Thunder and lightning lit the sky and sent vibrations down through her bones as icy rain stung her cheeks. It was all so different from the underwater currents. Her eyes snapped open, now wide with wonder.

She ship was large, so very large! It was tall too, higher than she thought possible. Three logs, larger than she had ever seen, stuck straight up toward the heavens. Attached to each log was a vertical log, bound along the bottom with a something dull and white. The log in the middle of the ship was by far the largest, and as she squinted up to the top she could see a small basket. She could not make heads or tails as to what that would be used for.

Now that she was above water, she also noticed something else. The ship had made softer sounds underwater, but above water it groaned and creaked as if it was about to be pulled apart. Its rocking, which had been softer under water, were exaggerated and large. The waves that hit it did far less to move her than she ship. It seemed with every wave it was in danger of breaking.

Fragile.

But she wasn't only hearing the ship now. She was hearing voices too. The loud shouts and yelling of men giving orders and taking orders.

Humans.

But the ship was so tall and large she couldn't see them. Not for the first time her teeth dug into her bottom lip as she considered her options.

She should leave. That would be the smart thing to do.

She eyed what looked like a series of ledges in the edge of the ship. Likely to be what humans used to climb onto it from the water. It would be risky, and difficult. But…

She gave a flick of her tail, pushing herself up to grasp the swaying ledge and lift herself up out of the water. Her arms strained for a moment before she settled her rear on the edge of the bottom most ledge. She took a shaky breath.

"Rangiku… Tatsuki… don't be angry." She prayed with a whisper, crossing her fingers together in front of her chest before gathering her strength and starting her climb up. The thought that she was on a dangerous edge between being the most daring mermaid and the most stupid drifted through her mind, but she pushed it away.

Finally, she reached the top and peeked over the edge.

It was chaos, and she could not pull her eyes away. Men, tall men dressed in cloth and leather ran along the flat top of the vessel. With real legs! Many were laden with rope, others were carrying large crates in twos and vanishing through a hatch into the belly of the ship. And she realized then that the ship must be hollow on the inside.

How incredible!

Her fingers curled tight over the edge, her grip firm so she didn't fall as her eyes took in every detail. The men were all so… strange. New and unfamiliar.

"Fuck! Watch out!" A harsh curse nearby caused her to jolt, tucking herself up against the side of the ship tightly in fear as her self-preservation skills finally kicked in. Not a moment later, several feet along the edge of the ship, the railing exploded. A large metal object exploded from the wooden shards, many of which only narrowly missed hitting her. The dark metal dove into the depths with a loud splash.

Now, with such a large hole to see through, she could see them. Him.

His vibrant hair struck her first. Not unlike her own in its uniqueness, but a different shade that was completely his own. He had a strong jawline, and his lips were set in a scowl that made her heart flutter strangely. Though she could not clearly see his eyes through the thick mop of orange hair escaping the tie at the base of his neck, allowing many strands to fall into his eyes, she imagined they would be piercing. Capturing.

He was standing up from the unstable flat wood, hoisting a scrawny man with dark hair up by the back of the cloth on his top half. And she realized with another flutter that he was tall and quite strong despite his lean appearance. One of the tallest men on the ship, it seemed, as the man he held dangled in the air before he was set roughly back down on his feet.

"S-Sorry, Prin- I mean, Ichigo." The dark-haired man stuttered, scrambling to grasp hold of the edge of the rail. She pressed herself firmly against the side of the ship, her fingers turning white with her grip.

"Sorry doesn't cut it Keigo! Go help the others with that canon!" The man, Ichigo, gave Keigo a push in the opposite direction before racing off toward the other side of the ship.

Orihime let out a sigh of relief when Keigo raced off as well, allowing herself to relax enough to inch slowly back down the edge of the ship.

The humans were not handling the storm well, it seemed. They were struggling to keep the ship from falling apart in the storm. And as tender-hearted, as she was, she knew that if she stayed any longer she would do something stupid. She had already broken so many rules. She could help them by telling them which way the current was running, and where the storm was heading, but…

Speaking with a human was a death sentence.

She took a shaky breath, inching her way back down the side of the boat. Chilling screams of horror froze her in her place. And she turned, instinctively knowing.

Under the water, it would be a formidable wave. The current would drag any mermaid along, tossing it within itself no matter how strong a swimmer they were. But outside the water, it would be worse. So much worse.

She drove down toward the water, knowing the impact would hurt even her, but it was too late.

It hit, rising to meet her, and carrying her up and over the edge of the ship. Her heart seized with panic as she collided with the railing, and flipped end over end onto the deck. But it was not done. It drug her along, the wood scraping at her bare arms and opening cuts with the rusty nails that had begun to come loose. Several times, she felt the hard contact of another body hitting her own before they too were pulled along. By the time she hit the other side of the ship, her head colliding sharply with the inside of the railing, she was thoroughly bruised and hurting.

The water on the deck quickly dissipated, and she realized with horror that she was on the ship. Her eyes snapped open, having closed before in fear. And at once she made eye contact with a tall man with fiery red hair. He stopped, mid-run, his mouth agape at the sight of her. She jolted into action.

Her arms flailed, hands scrambling on the side of the shift to hoist herself up. Her tail gave a hard shove and she launched herself over the edge of the deck. And as she fell, she was met with another shock. She wasn't the only one falling from the ship. She hardly had time to process that information.

It was pure luck that she hit him the way she did.

Her soft, feminine body hit his masculine one, and they both twisted in the air from the force. Without thought her arms wrapped around his broad torso, fingers grasping the wet cloth covering his chest.

They hit the water with a crash.

For a moment they floated in the current, tumbling as it pushed them along. She twisted, digging her fingers into his shirt as his dead weight began to slide out of her grip. Pulled out of her arms as the current natural fought to separate them. And for some inexplicable reason the thought terrified her. She couldn't let him go, could not lose him. Her arms slid under his, and she pushed back up to the surface even as the water fought her, instinctively remembering that humans could not breathe underwater the same way mermaids could. He had to get above water, even if that made things so much more difficult for her.

When they broke through the choppy surface, the sea was just as wild as it had been when they hit. Only now the ship was further away, drifting as the storm continued to batter it. Heading toward the worst of the storm. And she knew that if any survived, the ship certainly would not. Taking him back would be a death sentence for them both.

The male in her arms groaned, coughing and spluttering water despite being unconscious. His head lolled on her shoulder, heavy.

"I'm sorry," She found herself crying, tightening her hold on him. "I'm so, so sorry!"

Hoping somewhere deep in her heart that the man in her arms would come to forgive her, she swam.

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.

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The first thing he saw was a sunrise.

Long strands of the strangest gold and orange variety, creating a halo around a pale heart-shaped face, falling to tickle the side of his face that was not in the sand. And a set of large grey eyes that reminded him of a gentler storm, framed by long eyelashes. The kind that carried soft rains, and the laughter of children as they splashed in puddles outside. Lips, like that of pink coral, parted to say something he could not hear but desperately wished he could.

An Angel? He did not think he deserved one, but he would not complain.

Her silky hair fell over her shoulders as she shifted closer, and he felt a warm palm cup the side of his face. A sweet scent wafted from her skin, something he could not name but wanted to hold on to nonetheless. His eyes closed, as he reveled in the Angel's touch unabashed. But suddenly, it was gone. And his eyes snapped open. This time, he was greeted by a sunset.

Multitudes of blue, orange, and purple mixed together overhead. Creating a stunning effect as the sun dipped in the horizon over the calm crystal blue sea. It was a beautiful painting that would never, and could never, truly be captured by any artist. Its beautiful serenity had him gazing blankly at the horizon line through heavy-lidded eyes for several minutes before it all came crashing down on him. The vision of the woman was tucked away in the back of his mind to ponder on later.

Flashes of dark, stormy skies and the feeling of rough, wet rope running through his hands. The wooden mast, his only sense of ground, lurching out from under him when the wave hit. Rain obscuring his vision, hitting stinging cheeks with the sensation of thousands of tiny needles. The cold dread in his heart as he fell. A flash of something bright, and golden. Then the darkness that came with unconsciousness.

He could feel it. The soreness that ran through his limbs, as if he had just crawled through three miles of sand on his hands and knees. The ache of his bruised muscles as they shifted under his equally bruised skin, as he took the deep breath he thought he might never be able to take again. Unbidden, and with varying amounts of pain lancing throughout his elbow and shoulder, he brought his hand to his left pectoral. A heartbeat. His heartbeat, steadily thudding inside his chest.

Against all odds, he was alive.

By some miracle, or more likely leftover adrenaline, he did not feel any broken bones on his person. Though in his head he knew the fall would have at least shattered half the bones in his body. Falling into the water from that height should have killed him. Even if it did not, the sea would have taken him in his unconscious state. Should have. And despite what many of his friends would say, he was not a complete idiot.

Someone had saved him.

Slowly, so as not to jostle any injuries he may not yet feel, he pushed himself up onto his hands and knees. Sand stuck to his clothing, which was now stiff and dry, smelling strongly of salt water as it clung in memory to his skin. His jaw clenched as his left side throbbed, and he made the quick deduction that the left side of his body had taken the brunt of the fall.

Again, a part of him noted that were that the case the left side of his body should have been shattered. He had seen men fall from lesser heights, in certainly less perilous situations, and their chances of a full recovery were slim to none.

He sat back on his heels, groaning openly as he felt his ribs shift inside his body with a low crack. His hand moved to prod the area, feeling for any abnormal tenderness to suggest internal bleeding or breaks. When he felt none, he let out a relieved but confused sigh.

Assured that he would live – for now – he took a moment to look at his surroundings.

The shape of a familiar sandy shore. The same craggy rocks he had played on as a child, and the same old small vessel wreck that had been there for the past two summers.

And he heard it.

"Ichigo!"

"Ichigoooo!"

"Prince Ichigo!"

"Big brother!"

His head turned toward the sound of familiar voices shouting, calling for him.

A small group of people, but faces he knew. His young sisters, the twins, racing as fast as they could toward him in the sand. Karin raced ahead of them all, dressed in what suspiciously looked like a pair of his old trousers. Young Yuzu was not far behind, lifting the skirts of her pale-yellow dress so as not to trip as she rushed after her sister. Behind them, he could recognize his father slowly gaining on them by the wild flapping of his red cloak. Right on his heels, their most trusted (if not peculiar) family friend and advisor, Urahara followed. Even from where Ichigo sat, he could see the odd man's fan fluttering with excitement as he took in the scene before him.

Despite the spreading relief in his heart that somehow, he survived, he found himself turning away from the happy scene of his family rushing towards him. His eyes drifted back to the golden sunset.

And for a small moment, just a fraction of an instant, he saw something. Something that he would spend the next week thinking about, questioning, and trying not to drive himself mad over.

A lone figure, standing shoulder deep in the water. Impossibly long auburn hair, which rivaled that of the changing color of the skies, dancing in the water as soft waves rolled in toward the shore. Her lips parted, eyes closed, offering the sweet sound he had been unable to hear before when she had been so close. It was clear, and soft. Her voice rose above the waves, but also seemed to coexist with their natural sound in such a way that it took his breath away. A sense of inexplicable rejuvenation filled his soul.

"Ichigo!"

His head snapped over, and he was given hardly a moment before Karin and Yuzu shot into his arms and sent him tumbling back with a groan of pain. Immediately they began to apologize and look over him for wounds, Yuzu crying openly when she saw the many bruises covering his exposed skin.

"We thought you were dead!" Yuzu cried, tossing her arms around his neck once again in a tight hug he quickly returned. Karin, the more stoic of the twins, appeared to be holding back tears of her own as she wound her own arms around both her sister and her brother in a far gentler hug.

"Don't you ever do that again!" Karin scolded into his shoulder, and he heard the distinct sound of sniffles.

"I won't." He promised, his voice hoarse and throat dry. And he meant it.

"Let's get you up, big brother … before Papa and Urahara catch up. You need to get fed. You look so exhausted..." Yuzu pulled back, rubbing her cheeks with a large smile of relief. There would be no questions, not yet anyway. And for that, he was glad, as he had no idea how he would even start to answer them.

For the second time, his gaze drifted back toward the calm sea. This time, searching.

She was gone.

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