Two days later, on the abandoned beach, the sound of steel and impact split the air.
"Moon—Evil Crescent!" Kuina's cry cut sharp as her blade arced. She reversed her grip, her body spinning in a half-turn, every muscle coiling into the slash. A streak of crimson energy tore through the daylight, so vivid it glowed even beneath the noonday sun.
The air hummed.
Tina narrowed her eyes, lips curling. "Not enough."
"Black Cage—Guard!"
Her arms crossed, the steel-laced gloves clashing together. In an instant, iron branches erupted, weaving into a thick lattice of defense. Kuina's energy slash struck, carving into the barrier with biting force, sparks and crimson fragments spraying.
The shield groaned, split, then collapsed with a thunderous crack. Tina leapt back, flipping midair to dodge the shards of shattering Ki that tore through the sand like a storm of razors.
Landing light on her feet, she adjusted her stance.
Kuina's chest heaved with a mixture of exertion and exhilaration. Two days. That's all it had taken for the breakthrough to settle into her body. She could feel it—every nerve sharper, every muscle leaner, every tendon answering her will. Her strikes weren't just faster—they were alive.
She wanted more.
But Tina wasn't one to be left behind. She vanished in a burst of speed, Soru carrying her in flickering strides until she was on Kuina in the space of a heartbeat. Her steel-coated fist shot forward, fast enough to split the air.
Clang!
Kuina caught it on her blade, the impact rattling up her arms. Tina didn't relent. She blurred again, darting around her opponent, fists hammering down in relentless succession.
Steel and sword met again and again, the rhythm brutal, a storm of sparks raining down. Kuina's blade flashed in arcs of red, her body twisting, parrying, countering, striking back. Every clash echoed across the empty beach like cannon fire.
…
From his seat on a high rock, Jin watched it all with arms folded. His lips quirked in approval. "Not bad. Neither of them's going all out, but the growth is obvious. Kuina's slashes… still a little slow. Tina's fists… still lacking weight. But overall? Satisfying."
He glanced sideways at the hulking figure beside him. Kuma sat cross-legged, eyes shut, sweat dripping as he channeled his energy inward. Jin's gaze sharpened, a flicker of anticipation in his chest.
"And you," he murmured. "If this works… it'll be more than satisfying. It'll be a miracle."
Below, the two women clashed harder, the sand beneath them carved into trenches from their footwork. The rhythm of steel and iron had almost turned beautiful.
But Jin's smirk returned. Time to end it.
"Oi!" His voice boomed across the beach, casual and commanding all at once. "Enough! Come back for lunch!"
The two fighters froze mid-motion, their heads snapping toward him.
Jin waved lazily. "Keep going if you want, but when Makino's wrath descends, don't blame me. I'm leaving first."
With that, he tapped the air and strode off, Haki-charged steps carrying him as if he were walking on invisible steps.
The words hit like a curse. Both Kuina and Tina stiffened, their bodies trembling with an instinctive chill. The "wrath of Makino" wasn't a joke. It was law.
Their eyes met for a beat—then both bolted in unison, racing back toward the bar faster than they'd fought each other.
Makino truly was the ultimate nemesis of the team.
…
Minutes later, the three of them sat in the rear courtyard, their postures stiff and obedient. Makino stood before them, hands on her hips, her warm smile somehow more terrifying than any sword or fist.
"Good," she said sweetly. "Everyone's here on time. Remember: training builds strength, but food builds the body. Skipping meals means weakening yourselves. I can't allow that."
Her tone was gentle, but none of them dared argue.
One by one, she placed dishes before them. "Kuina, you're still the youngest. Eat more. Tina, your training's been the hardest lately—extra meat for you. And as for you, Jin…" She tilted her head, her smile edged with mischief. "Eat whatever's left. I don't really care."
Jin, Kuina, and Tina all sat with identical expressions—serious, upright, attentive—like schoolchildren under inspection.
Makino set the last plate down, then joined them, folding her legs delicately beneath her. "Alright. Eat. And relax—no punishments this time. No secret herbs, no strange flavors. I promise."
The three of them exhaled together and dug in with almost military discipline.
Watching them, Makino's heart softened. She loved this—feeding them, caring for them, scolding them. It wasn't obligation. It was family.
But Jin's mind wandered back to the "punishment" day. The memory twisted his gut even now. Tina had gagged on cilantro in every bite. Kuina had nearly wept at the endless onions. And him—the loyal, punctual eater—he'd been condemned to an entire day of pure bitterness. Bitter tea, bitter soup, even bitter wine. It had been hell, and when he'd demanded why he had to suffer too, Makino had answered with infuriating simplicity:
"You didn't stop them. You're responsible."
It had been irrefutable. It had also been brutal.
He stabbed a sausage, chewing grimly at the memory.
"Good?" Makino's voice drifted over the table, her eyes expectant.
The three straightened.
"Good! Delicious!" they chorused, voices sharp and synchronized like soldiers.
Makino's smile bloomed, radiant. "Then eat more. There's plenty in the kitchen."
"Understood!" they answered again, mechanical, obedient.
She watched them eat, her chest swelling with quiet joy. Family. She'd lost too much in her life already, but here—here she'd carved a little corner of warmth. These stubborn, reckless fools—she'd love them to death if she had to.
…
Later that evening, after plates were cleared and the courtyard quieted, Jin slipped away into the storeroom. He didn't get far before Makino followed, catching his arm in the shadows.
"You," she whispered, pressing close. "Do you know how close you were to punishment again? You nearly forgot to wash before eating."
I arched a brow, smirking. "Wash or not, I still finished every bite. Doesn't that earn some reward?"
Her lips quirked. "You're impossible."
I didn't give her time to argue. My arm circled her waist, pulling her against me. The scent of wine and summer air clung to her hair as I bent my head. Her breath hitched, but she didn't resist.
The kiss started soft, then deepened—urgent, claiming, full of the hunger I always buried beneath sarcasm and calculation. She melted against me, her hands pressing against my chest, then sliding up to my shoulders.
For a long moment, the world was only warmth and taste, her lips parting, my tongue sweeping in to tangle with hers. When we finally broke apart, both of us breathing hard, her cheeks glowed scarlet.
"You always…" She swallowed, eyes glimmering. "You always know how to undo me."
I brushed her cheek with my thumb, voice low and certain. "That's because you're the only thing I don't want to control. The only piece I won't play with."
Her smile trembled, beautiful and fierce. She kissed me again, quick and desperate, before slipping from my grasp. "Back to the others. If Kuina or Tina catch us, I'll never hear the end of it."
I let her go, laughing softly, still tasting her on my lips.
Family, I thought. Love, loyalty, rivalry, fire.
I'd protect it all. Even if I had to break the world in half.
…
That night, with the stars stretched over Windmill Village, I stood outside, the waves crashing faintly in the distance. My violet eyes narrowed at the horizon.
Pieces moving. Bonds deepening. Strength rising.
The game was taking shape.
And I loved them for it. Loved them so much, it scared me.
But I'd turn that fear into fire.
Because the seas weren't ready for us.
Not yet.
But they would be.
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T/N :
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