"Caw, caw…" Gulls wheeled overhead, then beat a panicked retreat. One fool of a bird, lost in the squall, smacked straight into the mast, flapped twice, and flopped onto the deck.
The run to Dolle Harbor is rarely glassy. A higher swell sets the ship pitching and rolling; that's normal. Plenty who weren't culled by knives were already done in by seasickness or the water and food—easy tags to harvest. Once your number is taken, you're out, stuffed into the cabins. As the hours wore on, it only got worse.
By the end, the only ones still standing on deck were familiar faces: Roy, Gotoh, Kuraging, Kite, and the bald ninja, Yusuke.
"Looks like that's the crop this year." Captain worked the repairs with Katzo, eyes lingering on Roy for a few seconds—full of grievance he dared not show.
The boy was too outrageous—too hateful—a shipbreaker. One cut, a ten-meter furrow. Thank the keel and timbers for holding; otherwise he'd have pried the hull open.
But now was no time to complain… "She's right—the storm's nearly on us!"
Pipe clenched, the old captain drew hard and squinted at the sky. The black clouds were bunching in stacks; in moments they smothered the sun, plunging the world into dusk.
Rumble— Forked lightning cracked; purple tongues crawled along the mast…
Kite frowned—he was too high, a hairsbreadth from getting struck. He slid down the spar in a hurry…
"St. Elmo's fire. You've got guts, kid." Captain shot him a look, the lines in his weathered face deepening. "They say whoever sees St. Elmo's fire doesn't come back."
"Count yourself lucky."
Kite tugged down his brim and said nothing. He glanced at Roy and Gotoh—one seated, one standing—motionless.
Kuraging had read her share of books chasing the wider world. She'd seen this in pop-science and added, "It's not that mystical—static electrons in the air or a charged rain cloud excite the electrons on the main sail—that's the glow."
"You do know a lot," Gotoh said, surprised; a thin prickle of wariness crept up his spine.
Kuraging smiled, pleased to be useful for once.
"Katzo to the helm, the rest with me on the sheets—now!" Captain bellowed.
He rallied the hands, hauled full canvas, and led the tack to meet the storm.
The wind slammed into them—harder and harder.
Before nature, man's ships are small.
Rrraa— The sea hit like a pack of rabid beasts, pounding the Poseidon without pause.
She rode the crests by a hair, pitching and rolling, groaning with each fall. The seasick… were vomiting up their guts.
Retching rose and fell; bodies caromed across the planks like balls, bouncing off the rails on either side.
Only a few kept their feet: Roy, Gotoh, Kite, and Yusuke. As for Kuraging, she'd hugged the mast—smart—so she wouldn't get "bounced" overboard, but her face was white, lips clamped, fighting not to heave.
Here the difference between Nen users and not showed plain…
Gotoh stood like he'd been nailed down—feet sunk to the deck, rock-still. Kite tugged his brim, sat cross-legged, and snatched a flying apple out of the air, took a bite. Yusuke even had the leisure to balance on a rolling barrel and practice one-handed handstands. And Roy…
The boy sat like an old monk at the bow, the cane blade laid across his knees, mind turning on how to marry "Sun" and "Water"—
and treated the coming storm as nothing.
Drip… The black ceiling slid over the Poseidon. Rain began, then thickened to sheets. In seconds, everyone was soaked to the bone.
Crack— Another bolt—
"What are you standing there for—below!" Captain craned his neck and roared across the deck.
Yusuke wiped his bald head, sprang off the barrel, and took the hint. Kite followed, flicking the apple core into the sea.
That left Roy, Gotoh, and Kuraging on the open deck…
I can't… I can't hold it. Kuraging gagged dryly, shot Roy a wan look. "Young master… I'll wait in the cabin."
Gotoh's glare hit her like a knife—his pupils bristling with killing intent.
"Mind your place," he said, voice dangerous.
Kuraging looked to Roy…
He didn't bother with her. A wave of the hand to Gotoh let her go. She fled gratefully, stumbling into the hatch.
KRAK-BOOM! Thunder stomped again.
"Young master…" Gotoh started.
Roy opened his eyes, tilted his head at the clouds—and blinked. Black clouds press down on the city, ready to crush it… What was the next line?
Armor gleams toward the sun; golden scales unfurl… Good… very good…
He stood up. In the torrent a thought flashed whole—shing—the cane blade came free.
"Don't mind me," he told Gotoh.
He stepped off. Nen spread webbed like a duck's foot under his soles. Water-walking—he ran the waves and dove straight into the storm.
A waterfall is child's play. Only a storm—only a storm—can give him pressure.
Reborn under pressure—or die under it. The line struck him. He led with a Water Surface Slash, and danced in the gale.
"Young master!" Gotoh stood gaping—rooted at the bow, unable to step forward or back.
Captain, halfway through a shout to "hold the sheets!" caught Gotoh's stare, followed it, and saw the boy like a floating leaf knife into the storm.
"He's mad!"
"Water Breathing, First Form—Water Surface Slash! Second—Water Wheel! Third—Flowing Dance—"
The typhoon tightened Roy's skin to his skull. Wind crush pinned his arms; thick cords bulged like coiled dragons under the skin. His face was grim; twin suns drilled into his eyes. He held and cut; each exhale blew a stripe of heat-dragon from his nostrils.
~~~
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