Chapter 113: St. Elmo's Fire × Training in the Storm
"Gwaa… gwaa…" Gulls circled overhead and fled with frantic wings. One panicked, veered wrong, smacked into the mast, flapped twice, and dropped onto the deck.
The run to Dolley Island was never all smooth sailing. Big swells were common, kicking the ship up and down and rocking it side to side.
Even without being hunted, some candidates succumbed to seasickness or the unfamiliar climate and became easy prey.
Once a number tag was taken, you were out on the spot—hauled into the hold. As time passed, the situation only worsened.
By the end, the ones left standing on deck were familiar faces: Roy, Gotoh, Rika, Kite, and the bald ninja Yusuke.
"Looks like it's those ones this year," Mark Seam muttered as he and Gus patched the Sea God. His eyes lingered on Roy for several seconds, full of resentment he did not dare show.
The boy was outrageous—downright hateful. One stroke carved a gash nearly ten meters long. Thank the keel and plating for being stout, or he would have split her in two.
But this was no time to complain. "She's right. The storm's almost on us."
Clenching his pipe between his teeth, the old captain squinted at the sky not far off. Banks of black cloud massed together, blotting out the sun in moments, and darkness fell over the sea.
Crack!
Forks of lightning speared down. Purple fire crawled along the mast.
Kite frowned. He had climbed too high and was nearly hit. He slid down the spar in a hurry.
"That's St. Elmo's fire. You have guts, kid," Mark Seam said around his pipe, a grave look on his weathered face. "They say those who see it never make it back."
"Count yourself lucky."
Kite tipped his cap and said nothing. He glanced at Roy and Gotoh. Master and servant sat and stood without moving.
Rika loved the wide world and read more than most. She had seen the phenomenon in a popular science book and added, "It isn't so mysterious. Static electrons in the air or charged rainclouds affect electrons at the main sail, generating a glow."
"You do know a lot," Gotoh said, surprised. A faint sense of danger prickled in his chest.
Rika smiled. At least she could be of some use.
"Gus, the helm. Everyone else, grab the sheets," Mark Seam bellowed.
He gathered the sailors, trimmed for the wind, and brought her about to meet the storm.
The headwind blew harder and harder.
Against nature, any ship made by man felt small.
Rumble.
The waves came like beasts in a rage, slamming the Sea God again and again.
She ran along the wave crests, as if on thin ice—pitching, rolling, and groaning with every blow.
Those who got it the worst… it was enough to make you heave your guts out.
Retching rose and fell. People bounced across the deck like balls, careening from rail to rail.
The few who managed to keep it together were Roy, Gotoh, Kite, and Yusuke. As for Rika, she clamped both arms around the mast to keep from being "bounced" overboard. Even so, she could not hide how pale she was. She kept her mouth clamped shut, refusing to be sick.
This was where the difference between having Nen and not having it showed.
Gotoh's feet seemed nailed to the deck—he did not shift a hair. Kite tipped his brim, sat cross-legged on the boards, and snagged a passing apple out of the air for a bite.
Yusuke even had the leisure to stand on a barrel, roll it, and practice a one-handed handstand.
As for Roy—
The boy sat cross-legged at the bow like a meditating monk, his cane-sword resting across his knees as he thought about how to fuse Sun and Water.
He treated the coming storm as if it were not there.
Drip, drip, drip...
In short order, the black wall of cloud slid over the Sea God. Rain came down, harder by the second, and in a blink, it was a downpour that left everyone soaked to the bone.
Crack! Another lightning strike.
"What are you all doing, standing around? Get below," Mark Seam roared across the deck with his neck stretched.
Yusuke wiped his gleaming scalp, sprang off the rolling barrel, and took the hint. Kite followed behind him, flicking the apple core into the sea.
The deck was now empty, except for Roy, Gotoh, and Rika.
"I can't… I can't take it," the girl managed. She dry-heaved, shot Roy a weak look, and said, "Young Master, I will wait for you in the cabin."
Gotoh's eyes snapped to her, pupils filled with killing intent.
"Mind your place," the young butler said, his tone dangerous.
Rika looked to Roy.
He didn't respond. He gestured to Gotoh to let her go. Relief stamped on her face, Rika stumbled through the hatch.
Kra-BOOM. Thunder cracked again.
"Young Master…" Gotoh said, concern edging into his voice.
Roy opened his eyes, lifted his gaze to the churning black clouds—and froze. Black clouds crushing the city… and after that?
"Armor gleaming under the sun… golden scales unfurled. Good. Very good."
He rose to his feet. In the pouring rain, a sudden flash of insight struck him. With a clear metallic ring, he drew the cane-sword.
"Pay me no mind," he said to Gotoh.
He stepped out. Aura spread under his soles like webbed feet. He called up Water Walking, ran across the waves, and shot for the heart of the storm without a backward glance.
Waterfalls were child's play. Only the storm—only the storm—could give Roy the pressure he sought.
Be reborn under pressure, or die beneath it.
The line rose unbidden in his mind. He opened with Water Breathing, First Form: Water Surface Slash, and danced in the tempest as if everything else had ceased to exist.
"Young Master!" Gotoh stared, poleaxed—stuck at the bow, unable to go forward or fall back.
Mark Seam had just ordered the sailors to hold the sails when he felt something off. He followed Gotoh's gaze and saw the boy slip into the storm like a floating leaf.
"Utterly insane."
"Water Breathing, First Form: Water Surface Slash. Second Form: Water Wheel. Third Form: Flowing Dance…"
The typhoon tightened Roy's face to a grimace. Wind pressed his arms down, and he raised them against it with effort. Thick cords of muscle crawled beneath his skin like coiled dragons. In that instant, his features were fierce. Two suns burned in his pupils. He held firm and swung. With each breath out, a blazing dragon streamed from his nostrils.