"Join my fleet," Lone said.
"What?"
"Join my fleet! I need strong people, and you're super strong!"
"Did you not hear what I just said? I'm a COWARD---"
"Yeah, I heard that part. Don't care." Lone's grin was back, full force. "You bought me food when you didn't have to. That means you're kind. Kind people who are scared are just kind people. Still counts."
"That's not how being an Admiral works---"
"Says who? The Academy that kicked you out?" Lone tilted his head. "I'm making my own fleet, which means my own rules. And my first rule is... everyone who wants to reach their dreams is welcome."
Donut opened his mouth. Closed it, then opened it again. "You're insane."
"Probably! So is that a yes?"
"I didn't say---"
"Cool! You're my first fleet member! This is great! We should celebrate!" Lone looked around at the devastated table of empty bowls. "Can we get more food? Donut's paying!"
"I DID NOT AGREE TO---"
The door exploded inward, not metaphorically... actually exploded. Splinters rained down like wooden confetti as five figures swaggered through the smoking entrance, their boots crunching on debris. The leader wore a coat that shimmered with stolen Admiral Force, a patchwork thing made from the anchors of defeated rivals. His grin was all teeth and malice.
"Well, well, well," the leader drawled, his voice dripping with theatrical menace. "If it isn't the Academy's favorite failure."
"We get it, Hotdog," one of his crew muttered.
Hotdog shot him a look that promised violence later, then refocused on Donut.
"Boys, look at this. He's even bigger than last time we saw him. You know what they say about big guys who can't fight?" He paused for effect. "Lot of meat, no teeth."
His crew laughed on cue, a pack of hyenas circling prey.
Donut's hand trembled around his chopsticks. The hammer against the wall pulsed once, twice, responding to his spike of fear. Mountain's Grief wanted to be wielded... wanted to fight.
Donut wanted to disappear.
"Hotdog," he said quietly, each word an effort. "I don't want trouble."
"TROUBLE?!" Hotdog slammed his hand on a nearby table, cracking it clean in half. A family of diners scrambled away. "You don't want trouble? That's your problem, big man! You've got a Soul Anchor that could level mountains, and you're sitting here eating noodles like some kind of---"
"Hey," Lone said through a mouthful of food. "These noodles are really good. You should try some before you break more stuff."
The restaurant held its breath.
Hotdog turned, slowly, as if noticing Lone for the first time. His Admiral Force flared, hot and aggressive, pressing against everyone in the room like invisible hands around their throats.
Lone kept eating.
Hotdog's eye twitched. "Who the hell are you supposed to be?"
"Lone Einstein! I'm gonna be the God Admiral!" He pointed his chopsticks at Hotdog's coat. "That's a cool coat, but it looks uncomfortable. Too many conflicting souls, you know? Probably gives you headaches."
One of the crew members, a wiry man with scars like tally marks leaned toward Hotdog. "Boss, his Admiral Force... I can't read it. It's like standing next to the sun. I can't even tell how strong---"
"Shut up, Ketchup," Hotdog snapped. But his eyes had sharpened, calculating. He'd felt it too. The raw, untamed power radiating from this grinning idiot. "So you're friends with our favorite coward here?"
"First fleet member!" Lone corrected cheerfully.
Hotdog's grin widened. "Fleet? This walking disaster has a fleet now?" He approached Donut, each step deliberate. "Listen here, big man. We're going to settle something today. Three years ago, you made me look bad at the Academy. You remember that? Day one, you accidentally knocked me into the training Rift during orientation."
"That was an accident," Donut whispered. "I apologized---"
"I DON'T CARE IF IT WAS AN ACCIDENT!" Hotdog's voice cracked like a whip. "I spent three days in that Rift! Three days! Do you know what that does to a person?! And then you... you quit like a coward before I could pay you back!"
His crew had spread out now, surrounding Donut's table. The other diners had fled. Even Tamura had disappeared into her kitchen.
Only Lone remained at the table, watching with those disturbingly empty eyes.
"Here's what's going to happen," Hotdog continued, rolling his shoulders. "I'm going to beat respect into you. Teach you what happens when cowards pretend to be Admirals. And your new captain there?" He sneered at Lone. "He can watch. Maybe he'll learn something about choosing better crew."
"Please---" Donut stood, but his legs were shaking. His hammer pulsed again, a desperate plea.
"There it is!" Hotdog laughed, cruel and sharp. "That's the look! That's the look I remember! The big scary monster, frozen like a rabbit!" He turned to his crew. "You see this? This is what I'm talking about! Size means NOTHING without will! Strength means NOTHING without courage!"
He spun back to Donut, building momentum.
"You know what you are? You're a cautionary tale! A warning! You're what happens when someone's given a gift they're too PATHETIC to use!" His Admiral Force blazed brighter, the stolen souls in his coat screaming in harmony. "You're not even worth the space you take up! You're a WASTE! A JOKE! A---"
"Stop it," Donut breathed.
"What was that?"
"I SAID STOP IT!" But even shouting, Donut couldn't move. His fists clenched uselessly at his sides. Tears of frustration tracked down his face. "Just... just take what you want and leave. Please."
Hotdog's expression shifted from rage to something worse... pity. Contemptuous, poisonous pity.
"You're right," he said softly. "You're not even worth the effort." He raised his foot, Admiral Force concentrating in his boot until it glowed with malevolent light. "But I'll leave you with a reminder. Something to think about next time you consider playing Admiral."
His kick lanced toward Donut's chest... not enough to kill, but enough to break ribs, to humiliate, to mark.
It never landed.
Lone's coat caught Hotdog's ankle mid-strike.
The impact sent a shockwave through the restaurant. Wood groaned, windows cracked, and the floor beneath them spiderwebbed with fractures.
Lone hadn't moved from his seat. His coat had simply... extended, impossibly fast, catching the kick as casually as someone might catch a ball.
He wasn't smiling anymore.