The corridor hummed with the submarine's constant vibration, that low thrum that had become as familiar as breathing. Marya walked with her hands shoved into the pockets of her leather jacket, her boots echoing against the metal grating. The Heart Pirates Insignia on her back, the Jolly Roger watching the passageways with its grin.
She had just rounded the corner near the galley when a blur of silver and white nearly collided with her.
"Marya!"
Eliane Anđel bounced on the balls of her feet, her long silver hair swaying with the motion. Her blue eyes sparkled with that particular brightness that only appeared when she had food on her mind. A smudge of flour decorated her left cheek, and her small chef's jacket hung open over a black top. She clasped her hands together, practically vibrating with excitement.
"You're awake! Are you hungry? Like, really hungry? I made some fish stew this morning and it's, like, really good. The herbs are fresh and everything. I grew them myself!"
Marya's smirk tugged at the corner of her mouth. The girl's enthusiasm was almost exhausting, but there was something genuine about it that made it hard to be annoyed. She shrugged, her shoulders lifting in that casual way that made everything seem unimportant. "I can eat."
Eliane beamed. "Really? Do you want me to bring you something? I can make you a plate! I can—"
"I'm on my way to the deck," Marya interrupted, her voice flat but not unkind. "So if you like—"
Eliane spun on her heel before Marya could finish the sentence, her silver ponytail whipping through the air. "Great! I'll be right there!"
She disappeared around the corner, her voice carrying back through the corridor as she collided with someone—or something.
"Jelly! You cannot eat that! You just ate!"
"Snacks!" Jelly's voice echoed, that familiar bouncy quality making everything sound like a game. "Bloop! Need snacks! Snacks are, like, fuel! Fuel for adventures!"
"That's not how fuel works! That's a whole fish! A whole, uncooked fish! You can't just—"
"Bloop! Watch me!"
Marya shook her head, the smirk widening despite herself. She continued walking, her boots finding the ladder that led up to the deck. The metal rungs were cold against her palms as she climbed, and the hatch above her groaned with the effort of its hinges.
She pushed it open and stepped out into the open air.
The sea stretched to the horizon in every direction, an endless expanse of blue and green that shifted with the movement of the clouds. The sun hung low in the sky, painting the water in shades of gold and amber. The wind carried the sharp tang of salt and the distant promise of adventure.
Marya gripped the railing, her knuckles white against the metal. She closed her eyes for a moment, letting the wind play through her long raven hair. The nightmare still lingered at the edges of her consciousness—Micah's blade, his back, the blood soaking through her shirt. But out here, under the open sky, it was easier to push those thoughts away.
She opened her eyes and stared at the horizon.
The hatch clanged open behind her, and two sets of boots hit the deck.
Jannali Bandler emerged first, her athletic frame moving with that predator's grace that never quite left her. Her afro was hidden beneath a stylish headscarf, the fabric artfully arranged to conceal her forehead. Her brown eyes swept the deck with the practiced ease of someone who had learned to read danger in every shadow. A leather around her waist, holding Gosan in its compact form against her hip. The spear hummed with the faint, hungry awareness of the Hatzegopteryx that lived within its metal.
Atlas Acuta followed close behind, his rust-red fur shifting in the sunlight. His leopard-like black spots shifted with each movement, and his blue sapphire irises glowed with that faint Electro charge that never quite left him. He stretched his arms above his head, his charcoal-tufted ears twitching forward as he took in the view.
"Hey, boss," Atlas said, his voice carrying that feral, taunting edge. "Heard we're having engine troubles. Boring stuff."
Jannali's eyes narrowed as she scanned the horizon. "We had to surface. Anything we need to fret over, or is Bianca carrying on like a pork chop?"
Marya shrugged, her grip on the railing loosening. "Maybe a little of both. We're going to need to find—"
Atlas cut her off, his head snapping toward the sky. His ears flattened against his skull, and his Electro flickered involuntarily across his fur. "What is that?"
Marya turned, following his gaze.
Jannali cursed under her breath. "Bloody hell."
A fireball streaked across the sky, trailing a tail of orange and crimson that painted the clouds in shades of warning. It moved with impossible speed, cutting through the air like a blade through silk. The heat of it reached them even from this distance, a wave of warmth that carried the scent of something burning.
Marya's eyes narrowed. Her hand drifted toward Nisshoku's hilt, but she didn't draw. Not yet. She studied the trajectory, the angle, the way the fireball pulsed with an internal light that had nothing to do with simple combustion.
"A shooting star," Jannali said, her voice flat. "That's all it is. Just a—"
Marya shook her head, her jaw tight. "I don't think so."
Atlas's eyes bulged as he tracked the fireball's path. "Well, it's shooting right towards us!"
The fireball was closer now. Marya could see the way it carved through the air, leaving a wake of distorted sky behind it. It was too controlled, too deliberate. This wasn't a natural phenomenon. This was something else entirely.
She cursed, her boots pounding against the deck as she raced toward the comms panel mounted near the hatch. Her hand slammed down on the receiver, and her voice cut through the submarine's intercom with the force of a blade.
"All hands, brace for impact!"
The words were still hanging in the air when she felt it—a shift in the pressure, a change in the wind. The fireball was descending now, its trajectory angling toward the submarine with terrifying accuracy.
Jannali's hand found Gosan's hilt, her knuckles white. "That's not a shooting star. That's—"
"An attack," Atlas finished, his Electro crackling along his shoulders. "Someone's shooting at us."
Marya's eyes never left the sky. "Get below. Now."
"Boss—"
"Now!"
The fireball was almost upon them. Marya could see the way it pulsed, the way the flames writhed with an intelligence that had nothing to do with simple combustion. There was something inside that fire. Something watching.
She drew Nisshoku.
---
Eliane had just finished chasing Jelly away from the fish when the intercom crackled to life. Marya's voice cut through the submarine's corridors like a blade, sharp and commanding.
"All hands, brace for impact!"
Eliane's blood ran cold. Her hands flew to the counter, gripping the edge as the submarine lurched. The galley tilted, and pots and pans clattered to the floor. Jelly bounced against the wall, his gelatinous body rippling with the impact.
"Bloop!" Jelly's voice was high-pitched, panicked. "What was that? That was not a snack! That was—that was—"
"Jelly, get down!" Eliane grabbed his arm—or tried to. Her fingers sank into his gelatinous form, and she yanked him toward the floor. "We need to—"
The submarine shuddered again, harder this time. The lights flickered, and somewhere in the distance, an alarm began to blare.
Eliane's Lunarian wings flickered involuntarily, a flash of dark that she quickly suppressed. Her heart hammered in her chest, and she could feel the heat building in her core—that familiar, dangerous warmth that meant her fire was threatening to surface.
"Not now," she whispered, her voice shaking. "Not now, not now, not now."
Jelly's starry eyes were wide with terror. "Bloop! We're going to die! We're going to—"
"We're not going to die!" Eliane's voice cracked, but she forced herself to sound confident. "We're—we're going to be fine! Marya's on it! She's—"
She didn't finish the sentence. She didn't know what Marya was doing. She didn't know if they were going to be fine.
But she had to believe it.
---
On the deck, the fireball was almost upon them.
Marya stood at the railing, Nisshoku raised, her golden eyes fixed on the approaching inferno. The heat was unbearable now, a wall of warmth that pressed against her skin like a physical force. Her leather jacket flapped in the wind, and her raven hair whipped around her face like a dark halo.
Atlas stood beside her, his Electro crackling along his fur. His blue eyes were fixed on the fireball, his muscles coiled with tension. "Boss, if that thing hits us—"
"It's not going to hit us," Marya said, her voice flat and unwavering. "Jannali, get Gosan ready. I need you to intercept the trajectory."
Jannali's hand found Gosan's hilt, and she pulled it from its harness. The spear began to shift, the metal flowing and reforming into something larger, something more dangerous.
"You got it," Jannali said, her voice tight. "But you better have a plan after that."
Marya's smirk returned, sharp and dangerous. "Plans are overrated."
She leaped.
Her boots left the deck, and she soared through the air toward the fireball. Nisshoku sang in her grip, the obsidian blade pulsing with dark energy. The crimson runes on its surface glowed like a declaration of war, and the void veins on her arms pulsed in rhythm with her heartbeat.
The fireball met her in the air.
Marya swung Nisshoku in a wide arc, her Haki coating the blade in an invisible armor of destruction. The impact sent a shockwave rippling through the air, a wave of force that forced the fireball to shift it's trajectory.
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