Guess who drew this one.

It was me.

I did it.

Because I couldn't find a picture of mermaid Lance meeting a squid.

So there.

xXx

Keith parried the sword strokes as best he could. His knife had a much shorter reach than the captain's cutlass, and he was having a hard time keeping himself from being impaled, much less going on the offensive to disarm the man long enough to get away. Not to mention the crew of pirates that was surrounding him, ready to lash out at a moment's notice. Overall, it wasn't ideal.

Their blades locked. The captain pressed forward with a malicious grin. "Just because you've brushed elbows with death once doesn't make you immune."

Keith gritted his teeth and pressed back. What was he going to do? Even if he managed to get the captain occupied long enough to make a run for it, where was he going to go? There were pirates everywhere he looked, and only more were coming, stumbling tiredly from belowdecks to watch the scene unfold.

The impasse passed. Their blades dislodged, and Keith slashed at the captain's abdomen. As the blade neared his opponent's unprotected stomach, a sharp clang rang through the early morning. The knife clattered to the deck, with not only the captain but also several pirates between it and Keith.

The captain came at him with renewed vigor, swiping at his midsection. Again and again, Keith narrowly avoided evisceration, only able to think about how near to his own death he could be. His arms swung wildly to try and keep his balance. He could only evade the swings for so long, and--

His arm brushed against the hilt of the knife Lance had given him. He scrabbled at his belt to draw it, desperate for anything to help. Even if he was completely unfamiliar with the blade. When finally it came free, the cutlass was descending at an alarming rate toward his head. He instinctively raised the shell blade to protect himself. His eyes shut in anticipation of the blow, but it wasn't nearly as strong as he'd expected. When he reopened them, the knife was no longer a knife. It was a gleaming abalone sword, three feet in length and clearly stronger than the material it appeared to be made of. It held up against the steel of the captain's blade with ease.

Keith stepped forward, his eyes narrowing in concentration. The captain stared wide-eyed at the sudden glimmering apparition in his opponent's hand. Keith took a step forward, forcing him back as much. He continued forward, taking another step and another until the captain was pressed against the railing.

The surrounding pirates stepped forward, brandishing all manner of weapons. Keith watched them out of the corner of his eye, but couldn't do anything with all of his attention focused on the captain. What he was planning on doing when they attacked, he didn't know.

The water churned behind where the captain was pressed against the railing. Keith stepped back as his necklace briefly pulsed with warmth. Then the water exploded into motion as Lance launched himself into the air. His tail wrapped around the man's legs and the railing, pinning him to the wooden poles, and one deeply tanned arm pinned the pirate's arms while the other wrapped around his throat.

The man choked for air as he struggled to escape from Lance's grasp. Keith grinned at Lance, who responded with a nod and a tense smile. The sailor then turned to the pirates with a gleam of challenge in his eye. No one moved except the captain as he struggled, and even his movements slowed.

Keith took a step backwards towards the railing, still holding out his sword toward the pirates in warning. He glanced to Lance to see if he was ready to jump overboard, and everything seemed to slow down.

One of the captain's arms, the one holding the sword, came free. He swung it backward, and Keith could do nothing to stop him as the pommel of the sword slammed into the side of Lance's head.

Lance crumpled to the deck, losing his grip on the captain as his tail became limply disentangled from him and the railing. The pirate staggered away from Lance, gasping for breath with a hand on his throat as the mermaid lay on the deck, dangerously still.

"Lance!" Keith finally shouted. He started forward to help the mermaid, maybe get them both overboard, but a bristling wall of swords was suddenly between him and his fish friend.

The captain gave a breathy chuckle as he regained his composure and his air. "Friends, are you?" he panted.

Keith clenched his jaw, and his knuckles turned white in the hilt of the sword. He did his best to keep his expression blank, but as Lance stirred and started to lifted himself on his elbows, he couldn't help but show his relief.

The captain continued. "So you have a pet mermaid? How ever did you train him?"

"He's not a pet," Keith spat. "He's not some mindless animal to be trained for your pleasure."

The response was a shrug. "He seems to do your bidding, regardless of personal risk. But that's none of my concern."

Lance groaned, holding his head and leaning back against the railing. The captain pointed his sword at him. "Get the creature in the pen." Three men stepped forward to carry out the orders.

"No!" Keith shouted. He knocked aside swords, shoving through the wall of men to attack the captain. He lashed out again and again with the blade, and the man barely had time to react to the sudden onslaught of blows. The rest of the pirates stopped, unsure of what to do.

Keith shoved the captain back enough to give himself the time to shout at Lance: "Get out of here!" Then the captain came forward, swinging his sword with full force.

Lance was still disoriented, but at the harsh tone and the sudden ice-cold feeling at his throat, he gathered his tail under himself and launched over the rail. His arms lifted over his head and he arched his back, closing his eyes tightly to concentrate through the headache as he dove into the water below.

He let himself sink to the bottom as his lungs filled with water. He hovered on the brink of unconsciousness, his head pounding from what must have been a concussion. He could feel the water pressure building around him as he sank steadily deeper and deeper. He knew he had to start swimming; he had to open his eyes and start moving. But he couldn't bring himself to do it. The welcoming darkness of unconsciousness was pulling him away from the pain in his head. Maybe he could--

Something brushed against his back. It didn't exactly wake him up, but he was no longer so eager to give in. As he contemplated what would be the immense effort of opening his eyes, a more solid, persistent presence appeared, slowing his descent to the depths. As he felt it, he had a vague idea of maybe pulling away, but that would require waking up, and that would require more energy than he had at the moment. So he just relaxed and let himself be pulled wherever the creature (because that was what it was) decided to take him.

He was pulled along, the water pulling at his hair and flowing against his gills. After a while, they came to a stop, and the creature gently laid him down on what must have been a sandbar. Finally, Lance mustered the initiative to slowly open his eyes.

The light of what seemed to be the midmorning sun shone through about twenty feet of water, sparkling through the waves on the surface to enhance the beauty of the nearby coral reef. All manner of sea life swarmed in and around the reef, coming and going in a colorful display of chaos as he blinked to try and adjust his vision to the bright light. Eventually, he settled for shielding his eyes with a hand as he looked around for the creature that had saved him.

He couldn't find anything that matched what must have the thing's immense size. There didn't seem to be anything larger than a parrotfish in the reef, and when he looked down the slope of the sandbar, he didn't see any--

Wait. There, in the shadows of the rocks. There was a glint, something moving.

"Hello?" Lance asked softly in the ocean tongue. "Was it you?" He slowly swam toward it, wincing as his head throbbed more.

He saw a brief flash of pink, then lost sight of it. "Hey, come back. I can't see you." He smiled gently. "I'm not at a hundred percent right now, so if you could help me out, that'd be great." He was within a few feet of the rock formation. "You still there?"

The water suddenly swirled around him, and he lifted his eyes in awe as he saw the creature in all its glory.

It was the colossal squid. After he'd helped it, it had decided to return the favor.

Lance bent his waist slightly out of respect for the magnificent animal. "How did you find me?"

The answer was a low rumble that resonated through the water, vibrating deep in Lance's chest and sending a small chill down his spine.

He dipped his head in a half-bow, half-nod. "Of course. Thank you for helping me, and for coming so far from your comfortable habitat."

The squid blinked slowly, then pushed off of the large rock beside it, propelling itself back toward the depths.

Lance took a deep breath of water, though it didn't really do much to affect his oxygen levels. It was more of a habit that he had picked up from the short time he'd spent above the water to cool his nerves. He'd only done it a few times before, but when he'd seen Keith do it so many times during his preparation for saving the crew--

Keith. Keith was still on the ship. He was probably captured by now. He clearly wasn't dead, since the necklace was still warm, but it was impossible to tell what was going on. The slight warmth could mean that he was mostly out of danger and so he didn't need Lance, or that he was unconscious and therefore unaware of the danger, or that he just didn't feel as though Lance was a help that he would need. The mermaid knew the basic functions of the necklace, but when it came to the finer points, he really needed to figure things out.

He started swimming toward Keith. He didn't know exactly where the sailor was, but he recognized the distinctly directional pull in his gut as the necklace telling him where to go.

To the pirates.

xXx

Keith stared at a particularly interesting rust spot on the iron bars around him, his thumb rubbing mindlessly back and forth on the ropes pinning his hands in front of him. The smooth wood of the single solid wall provided him with something to rest against, and outwardly, he was still but for the small movement of his hand. However, despite how relaxed he may have appeared outwardly, his mind wandered ceaselessly.

Was the crew all right? Was Lance? Once the mermaid had fallen overboard, Keith's necklace had cooled down considerably. That could mean a lot of things, and though Keith wasn't sure how exactly the necklaces worked, he could be sure not many of the possible implications were good. Would Lance die? Could mermaids ever die? Could he be eaten by a shark or some other creature? Was that even a plausible threat to a mermaid?

His thoughts were interrupted when he heard footsteps coming down the ladder to his level. He kept his head still as his eyes drifted slowly upwards to see his visitor.

The large, dark-haired figure stepped down from the ladder, pausing to regain his grip on whatever was in his hands. Though his back was to Keith, something about him looked familiar. What it was, Keith couldn't put his finger on, but he was patient.

Patience yields focus.

"I'm here to give you enough food so you don't starve to death," the man said. His voice-- His voice was so much like--

The pirate turned around, and Keith couldn't keep his jaw from dropping. The hair, the build, the distinct lack of one arm. Even the scar was the same. "Shiro?" Keith gasped, dumbfounded.

The man blinked and pointed to himself, raising an eyebrow in amusement. "Who, me?"

"Yes, you. You..." He stopped. There was something about him that was just... off. Maybe it was something about his hair. Maybe it was in his eyes. Maybe it was in the way he carried himself. But Keith couldn't deny it. "You... aren't Shiro."

"The name's Kuron. I've been assigned to make sure you don't wind up escaping or dying, seeing as I'm not much help on deck." He lifted his unburdened shoulder in a resigned shrug. "Hope you don't plan on being much of a bother. I plan on catching up on some sleep while I'm here." He tossed two hardtack biscuits to the damp floor inside the cell, then sat down at the base of the ladder, leaning against the wall and closing his eyes

"You look almost exactly like someone I know," Keith said as he picked up the biscuits and leaned back against his own wall, facing Kuron. He didn't move to eat the rations, just stared at them.

"Do I now?" He sounded pretty disinterested, but Keith didn't care much. He'd been needing to talk about this for some time now, and he was ready to take any opportunity he could get.

"Takashi Shirogane. My captain. He... he's missing at the moment, but I'm sure we'll find him."

The pirate opened one eye. "Hold on a minute. What do you mean by 'missing,' and who's 'we'? You're sounding awfully optimistic here, and I want to know what dreams I'm crushing before I crush them."

Keith narrowed his eyes at Kuron. "'We' are his crew, and we haven't seen him in a few weeks. Not since the big storm, if you were in the area when it came through."

Kuron nodded, closing his eye again. "I remember it." He paused. "You know he's probably dead, right?"

"He's not dead. He's a good sailor. Even with one arm."

"Say that again once I get my crewmates. They could use a good laugh." He shifted his armless shoulder pointedly.

Keith's lip curled, but he tried not to let his anger into his tone. "He's not dead. I know it."

"If you say so." He didn't sound convinced.

"If anyone could survive that, Shiro did," Keith continued. "He knows the seas like the back of his hand, and he knows every trick in the book."

Kuron crossed his arm over his chest, settling down more comfortably. "Mhm, mhm, sure."

Keith decided that then would be the opportune time to give in. He took a bite of the hardtack, chewing slowly. "Do I at least get water?" he asked.

"Eventually. I hope you don't mind if we're stingy on giving you food and water. We've got a crew to keep alive, too, you know."

Keith just sighed and focused on chewing the bland, tough biscuit as his hands subconsciously rose together to the shell at his throat. He felt the slow and slight pulse of warmth, almost like a heartbeat, coming from the center of the magic necklace. He sighed and closed his eyes, hoping that Lance was at least in a better situation than he was.

He sat up abruptly as he felt a strange sensation in his gut that he figured wasn't the rations. He clutched what was left of the first biscuit as the sensation became more directional. It took him a moment to realize that it was the necklace-- it was telling him where Lance was.

As he adjusted to the feeling, he could that there was more than just direction to it: He could tell that Lance was getting closer. There wasn't an exact number on it, but he could be certain that though the mermaid was a fairly large distance away, the distance was closing rapidly. At this rate, Lance would reach him within a couple days, at most.

And Keith could live with that number.