The Hikari's Folly cut through the waves like it knew what it was doing, which was great, because Raiyo absolutely did not.
Morning sun glittered on the ocean, the sky painfully bright. Raiyo squinted up at the sails, one hand on the wheel, the other nursing a fresh bruise on his ribs.
He'd slept like trash. His brain kept replaying the Fort Aegis escape—bullets, cannon fire, Takeshi mowing through soldiers like they were made of paper. Also the part where Raiyo almost flashbanged them both straight into a firing squad.
"Note to self," he muttered. "Learn to control light. Or at least shout 'FLASHBANG' before I nuke everyone's retinas."
A clanging sound echoed from the deck below.
He leaned over the rail.
Takeshi was there, of course, already shirtless, already sweating, already going through sword drills like the laws of rest and recovery did not apply to him. Three blades flashed in the morning light—two in his hands, one clenched between his teeth, his movements sharp and precise. Every swing left a faint trail in the air.
Raiyo watched for a minute, both impressed and vaguely tired on his behalf.
"You know," Raiyo called down, "normal people eat breakfast first."
Takeshi didn't pause. "Normal people are weak."
Raiyo rolled his eyes. "Normal people also aren't wanted criminals with a body count and an execution order."
"Exactly."
Raiyo snorted. "Right, of course. Silly me."
He tied off the wheel, trusting the sea and dumb luck for a minute, and hopped down to the main deck.
Takeshi pivoted into a spinning strike, the three swords whistling around his body in a lethal halo. His muscles bunched and stretched, scars standing out along his arms and torso. There were a lot of scars.
"Ever taken a break?" Raiyo asked, folding his arms.
Takeshi finished the sequence, slid one sword back into its sheath, and spat the third into his hand before sheathing that too. He finally looked Raiyo's way.
"Break from what?"
"Existing."
"No."
Raiyo sighed dramatically. "Of course. Gods forbid you be relatable."
He looked Takeshi over again, noticing the stitched-up wounds from Fort Aegis.
"You're still half-stitched," Raiyo said. "Pretty sure your ribs sound like a maraca when you breathe. Should you be swinging sharp metal right now?"
"I can stand," Takeshi said. "So I train."
"And if you couldn't stand?"
"I'd train sitting down."
Raiyo stared. "…You know you're insane, right?"
"Insane keeps you alive."
"Insane also gets you arrested in Navy forts," Raiyo snapped. "Which, news flash, you were."
Takeshi's jaw flexed once. "I let them chain me so they wouldn't raze the village."
That shut Raiyo up for a second.
He scratched his cheek, suddenly feeling like an ass. "Yeah, okay. That's… actually very noble of you. Still stupid. But noble."
They stood in silence for a moment, the ocean slapping the hull, gulls crying in the distance.
Raiyo cleared his throat.
"So," he said, "I know why I'm an idiot. What's your excuse?"
Takeshi gave him a look. "You dragged me out of an execution yard, stole me from under Navy guns, and named me your swordsman with zero plan. You're not allowed to call anyone else an idiot."
"First of all, rude. Second, I had a plan."
"Oh?"
"Step one: sneak in. Step two: break chains. Step three: don't die."
"That's not a plan," Takeshi said. "That's a wish."
"Look, it worked, didn't it?"
"By accident."
Raiyo grinned. "Accidentally awesome is still awesome."
Takeshi shook his head, but something like the ghost of amusement flickered through his eyes.
Raiyo leaned against the rail, watching the sea. "So. Santoryu Takeshi. Three swords. Scary fast. Mildly terrifying. What's your deal?"
"Deal?"
"Everyone's got a thing," Raiyo said. "I'm an Irregular with light powers I can't control and a personality problem. Kyoji is a red-haired bastard with secrets and a magic compass from a goddess. What's your fatal flaw, oh mighty swordsman?"
Takeshi's gaze went distant for a moment, as if he were somewhere else—on a mountain, maybe, in front of a ravine full of monsters.
When he spoke, his voice was as flat as usual.
"I don't break promises," he said.
Raiyo snorted. "That's not a flaw. That's like… peak heroic trait. Gods, I wish my flaws were that wholesome."
Takeshi turned to face him fully.
"If someone phrases something as a challenge," he said, slowly, "if they say 'bet you can't,' or 'you'll never,' or 'you can't possibly'… I can't ignore it. My body doesn't let me. I hear those words and it's like a hook in my spine. I have to prove them wrong. No matter how stupid. No matter the cost."
Raiyo blinked.
"Oh."
A beat.
"…Oh," he said again. "That's… worse than I thought it was gonna be."
"I told you," Takeshi said, no pride in it, just fact. "I don't break promises. And somewhere along the way, every challenge became a kind of promise. To myself. To the person who said it. To the gods listening."
Raiyo whistled low. "So if some random asshole yelled 'bet you can't jump off this cliff,' you'll just… jump?"
"Yes."
"What if it's obviously a joke?"
"Doesn't matter."
"What if it kills you?"
Takeshi's eyes went hard. "Then I wasn't strong enough."
Raiyo stared at him like he'd grown a second head.
"That is the worst thing I've ever heard," he said. "Do you realize how easy you are to manipulate?"
"Yes."
"And you still—?"
"Yes."
Raiyo slapped a hand to his face. "Oh gods. Oh gods. I rescued a battle junkie cursed with terminal pride. Hecate, why do you hate me?"
He paced in a circle, muttering.
"No wonder you were chained up. A guy like that wandering around? The world's a live grenade with legs…"
"You still chose me as your swordsman," Takeshi pointed out.
"Yeah, I'm rethinking that," Raiyo shot back. "You're not a swordsman, you're a walking regrettable decision."
He stopped, then groaned. "And I like you. That makes it worse."
Takeshi shrugged. "You can still drop me off at the next island."
Raiyo glared. "Oh shut up, we both know that's not happening."
He clambered up onto a crate so he could loom slightly over Takeshi, despite being shorter.
"New rule," Raiyo declared. "No one on this ship is allowed to say 'bet you can't' around you ever again."
Takeshi's brows ticked up. "You think you can enforce that."
"Yes. I'll duct tape everyone's mouths shut if I have to."
"We don't have duct tape."
"Then I'll invent it."
Takeshi stared at him. "You're as bad as I am."
"Yeah, but my compulsion is to be annoying, not suicidal."
A sudden wicked thought crossed Raiyo's mind.
He smirked.
"Out of curiosity," he said, "does it still count if I say it by accident?"
"Yes."
"Even if I'm joking?"
"Yes."
"Even if it's obviously impossible?"
"Yes."
Raiyo groaned so loudly the gulls overhead startled. "Gods. You're a menace."
Takeshi nodded once. "That's accurate."
Raiyo hopped off the crate, muttering curses. "Alright. Fine. We'll work around it. Just, uh, maybe don't go anywhere near Navy officials who like to run their mouths. Or drunk pirates. Or children. Or… anyone, really."
"Noted."
He watched Takeshi for a second longer, something curious prickling at him.
"So… this three-sword thing," Raiyo said. "Did someone dare you into that, too?"
Takeshi's jaw tightened. "Yes."
"Oh gods," Raiyo whispered. "Of course they did."
He gently, carefully didn't ask more. The look in Takeshi's eyes said "monster, blood, and someone dead," and Raiyo had enough trauma flashbacks of his own, thanks.
Instead, he changed the subject.
"Alright!" he clapped his hands together. "Let's talk training."
"I already train," Takeshi said.
"Yeah, but you train like a ghost. Silently. Menacingly. Alone. That's not a crew vibe. We need a crew vibe."
"Is that… a thing?"
"Yes. It's law. Captain's decree."
Takeshi looked deeply unimpressed. "I serve as your swordsman, not your therapist."
"Too late," Raiyo chirped. "You joined this circus, you're legally required to participate in the chaos."
He thought for a second.
"Okay, here's what we'll do," Raiyo said. "You keep your death-march training or whatever, but you do it in sets. With breaks. With food. And when your body is literally bleeding, you stop."
Takeshi frowned. "That will slow my progression."
"It'll also keep your muscles from turning into shredded monster chow."
"Muscles repair stronger when torn."
"Yes, but not when you shatter them into paste," Raiyo snapped. "Trust me, I've seen enough Greek tragedies. They all start with 'hero doesn't know how to stop.'"
A wicked idea tickled the back of his mind.
He grinned slowly.
"Alright, I'll make a deal with you."
Takeshi stiffened slightly. "I don't make casual deals."
"This one's not casual. It's important." Raiyo leveled a finger at him. "I bet you can't…"
Takeshi's whole body reacted. Shoulders squared. Eyes sharpened. A muscle jumped in his jaw like he'd been slapped.
"Choose your next words carefully," he said quietly.
Raiyo let the tension stretch for a long second.
Then he smiled.
"I bet you can't stop training before you bleed today."
Takeshi blinked.
Raiyo continued, leaning in. "No splits, no torn palms, no open wounds. You stop the second your hands go raw, you wrap, you rest. If you push until you're dripping blood all over my nice deck again, you lose."
Takeshi stared at him like he'd rewritten physics.
"That's not how challenges work," he said.
"It is now," Raiyo said. "Because you said you accept any challenge, yeah? Any time, any place?"
"That's not—"
"You just told me that," Raiyo insisted. "So. There. It's a challenge. A real one. From your captain, no less. Bet you can't."
There it was again, that subtle tightening behind Takeshi's eyes. The hook sinking in.
Raiyo watched it happen and felt equal parts smug and guilty.
Takeshi exhaled slowly through his nose.
"You're manipulating me," he said.
"Yes," Raiyo replied. "Aggressively. For your own good. You're welcome."
Silence.
Then, finally:
"Fine," Takeshi said. "I accept."
Raiyo grinned so wide his face hurt. "Good. Great. Fantastic. Step one in 'How Not To Die By Your Own Training Regimen.'"
He grabbed a bucket and tossed it at Takeshi, who caught it one-handed.
"What is this for?" Takeshi asked.
"Hydration and not bleeding out."
"That's two things."
"Congratulations, you can count."
Raiyo scrambled back up to the helm, feeling weirdly proud of himself. Manipulating someone's cursed pride into self-care wasn't exactly in the heroic handbook, but he'd take his wins where he could get them.
As the morning wore on, they fell into a rhythm.
Raiyo steered, occasionally exploding with light when a flying fish startled him ("SORRY! SORRY! MY BAD!"), nearly blinding a flock of passing gulls and cursing Apollo in three languages.
Takeshi trained.
But this time, Raiyo watched.
The swordsman worked through his forms, sweat dripping onto the deck, breath harsh. When the first layer of skin on his palms started to crack and redden, he paused.
Raiyo shouted, "Hey! Check your hands!"
Takeshi scowled, opened his palms. The skin was raised, angry, but not yet bleeding.
"Keep going," he muttered.
Raiyo's eyes narrowed. "You sure about that?"
Takeshi hesitated.
The oath tugged.
Stop before you bleed. It's a challenge.
His teeth ground.
He sheathed his swords.
Raiyo whooped. "HA! Victory! Look at you, doing bare-minimum self-preservation! I'm so proud I could cry."
"This is humiliating," Takeshi grumbled.
"This is growth," Raiyo corrected. "Painful, awkward, deeply uncomfortable growth. Like puberty, but for your decision-making."
The day rolled on.
They ate on the deck—hard bread, dried fish, and something Raiyo insisted was fruit but tasted suspiciously like regret.
"Where are we going?" Takeshi asked at one point, nodding toward the endless sea.
Raiyo pulled out the cracked compass, its needle twitching eagerly toward some distant, unseen point.
"Wherever this thing says," he replied.
Takeshi eyed it. "That's not worrying at all."
"It belonged to Kyoji," Raiyo said. "Hecate gave it to him. It supposedly points to the 'right choice.'"
"'Right' according to who?" Takeshi asked. "The gods? The gods are insane."
"Yeah," Raiyo said. "But they're also real, and they like me just enough not to smite me on sight, so I'm rolling with it."
Takeshi leaned back against the mast, green hair ruffled by the wind.
"What's your goal, Raiyo?" he asked suddenly. "Beyond vague 'adventure' and 'not dying.'"
Raiyo stared at the compass.
He thought of the Genesis Sigil. Of stories whispered in taverns, about a carved stone that had touched the first Irregular Factor and given birth to all powers. Of the idea that one artifact could control every ability in the world.
"I'm going to find something," Raiyo said. "Something the whole damn world's chasing for the wrong reasons."
Takeshi's gaze sharpened. "The Sigil."
Raiyo blinked. "You know about it?"
"Every swordsman who's aimed for the top has heard rumors," Takeshi said. "Six Hexarchs interested. Navy interested. Vanguard old men pulling strings. A stone that can control Irregular powers. If that's real, it's a blade pressed against the world's throat."
Raiyo's hand clenched around the compass.
"Yeah," he said quietly. "Exactly."
Takeshi studied him. "And you think you're the one who should find it."
Raiyo laughed, a little too high. "Gods, no. I think I'm the one stupid enough to try."
He sobered.
"But I do know this: I have light I can't control, a compass that points to 'right choices,' and a habit of sticking my nose where it doesn't belong. So either fate's messing with me for laughs…"
"Likely," Takeshi said.
"Or I'm supposed to get there before someone worse does."
Takeshi considered that.
"You realize we're two people," he said. "One reckless Irregular and one cursed swordsman. No crew. No map. No allies."
"Hey, I have a ship," Raiyo said, patting the rail affectionately. "That's, like, half the job."
"The Navy already wants us dead," Takeshi continued. "You've picked a fight with the order of the world itself. Our odds of survival are… low."
Raiyo smiled, teeth flashing.
"Bet we make it."
Takeshi's eye twitched. "Don't say things like that near me."
"You already swore to my crew," Raiyo said. "Too late."
Takeshi stared at him for a long moment.
Then snorted, the slightest upward tilt of his lips betraying something dangerously close to a smile.
"You're worse than the gods," he said.
"I'll take that as a compliment."
Raiyo slung an arm around a rope and looked back out at the horizon. The compass glowed faintly in his hand, its needle unshakable.
The world ahead was huge, terrifying, and full of monsters—human and otherwise.
Behind him, on the deck of the Hikari's Folly, a cursed swordsman with three blades cooperated with a self-destructive challenge for the first time in his life. Not because a god had ordered it.
But because some loudmouthed Irregular with sunbursts for hair had weaponized his own flaw against him—and called it friendship.
Raiyo grinned into the wind.
"Next stop," he said, "new island, new disaster, and maybe someone who won't try to kill us immediately."
A wave slapped the hull like the sea itself was laughing at him.
Takeshi sighed and reached for his swords again.
"Don't say 'bet you can't survive it,'" he warned.
Raiyo opened his mouth.
Paused.
Smirked.
"Wouldn't dream of it," he said.
But the gods above, listening, were already paying attention.