The beach was already warming under the early sun, the sand carrying that dry, toasted smell rising from the shore as the tide pushed in slow, frothy breaths. Waves were rolling lazily, a gentle rhythm that contrasted sharply with the state of the Grand Blue diving club assembled near the equipment racks. Groans, muttered curses, and sluggish movement were spreading among them like a flu outbreak. The previous night's "small celebration" had clearly escalated beyond reasonable limits. Bottles still clinked faintly inside the trash bags, betraying the scale of the damage.
Stevan was standing slightly apart from the rest, arms crossed, observing the carnage with a steadiness that was almost insulting compared to everyone else's suffering. His body was recovering unnaturally fast; the curse was likely the reason. His head should have been pounding. His stomach should have been wrecked. His vision should have been wavering. Instead, he felt sharp, awake, and even energized by the chaos around him.
Kohei was hunched near the shade of a vending machine, his face pale, breathing with the caution of someone terrified of triggering an internal explosion. "I swear," he murmured, "I drank water between shots. This shouldn't be happening."
"Kohei," Iori said while holding his own head as if it were a fragile artifact, "you drank water by accident when you fell into the bathtub. That doesn't count."
Nanaka, who was surprisingly recovered, was walking briskly through the mess, tossing equipment onto the sand. "Everyone gear up. We're practicing whether you're half-dead or fully dead. The competition doesn't wait."
Aina flinched. "Do we have to go today? I can't feel my legs."
"No one asked about your legs," Chisa replied sharply, already setting up her tank with perfect precision. "Just prepare your gear. And don't throw up on the wetsuits."
Stevan finally stepped forward, letting his shadow fall across Iori and Kohei. "You look like decomposing fish," he said plainly.
The two men turned their heads toward him in unison, glaring as if they lacked the strength to respond verbally.
"Ouch," Iori finally croaked.
Kohei lifted a trembling finger toward Stevan. "You… you're too okay. It's suspicious. Only monsters survive one of Tokita's cocktails without consequences."
"They weren't Tokita's cocktails," Stevan replied. "They were just strong."
Iori stared at him with the expression of someone evaluating a clinical insanity case. "Stevan. Tokita doesn't mix normal drinks. He mixes biochemical threats."
"Shut up and suit up," Tokita boomed from behind, lifting a crate with one arm. His voice itself made half the group wince. "Today we test your lungs."
"And your souls," Tanaka added, equally loud.
Kohei collapsed face-first into the sand.
Stevan let out a slow exhale. This was roughly what he expected, but the curse inside him was stirring again, as if reacting to the chaos. He felt a pulse run under his skin—subtle but present—like a second heartbeat trying to synchronize with the rhythmic crashing of waves.
He ignored it.
The group was moving sluggishly but inevitably toward the waterline, wetsuits half-zipped, tanks rattling, hangovers flaring. Stevan walked next to Chisa, who was scanning him with narrowed eyes.
"You're not hungover," she said.
"No."
"That's unnatural."
"Probably."
Chisa stopped walking. "Is this about yesterday? That thing you did? Your body freezing mid-air? Your eyes going dark?" She lowered her voice, though the others were too distracted by their pain to notice. "If you're hiding something dangerous, you'd better—"
"It won't affect anyone," Stevan replied quietly. "Not unless I lose control."
"That doesn't reassure me."
"It shouldn't."
Her expression tightened. But she did not push further.
Nanaka clapped her hands loudly. "Pair up!"
Iori and Kohei attempted to run and instead staggered like drunks walking through a hurricane. Aina was spinning, desperately trying to zip her wetsuit. Tokita and Tanaka were flexing unnecessarily, creating a wind pressure that blew sand into Aina's mouth. Chisa was checking regulators. Stevan crouched to double-check his weight belt and tank valve, doing it with the reflexes of someone who had done it a thousand times. His movements were precise, controlled—mechanical almost.
Kohei noticed. "Why do you look like a veteran?" he groaned.
Stevan didn't answer. His eyes were pulled toward the water.
The curse was pulsing again.
Nanaka blew her whistle. "Into the sea!"
The group trudged into the surf, cursing, whining, or in Kohei's case, praying for a swift death. The cold water enveloped them one by one, sobering some, shocking others. Stevan slipped beneath the waves, letting the salt sting his skin, the cold numb his muscles, the pressure embrace him.
Under the surface, the world changed instantly.
Light fractured into wavering ribbons. Sounds flattened and diffused. Everything slowed. Movements became deliberate. The ocean's blue swallowed the noise of the shore in a single breath.
Stevan's heartbeat steadied.
The curse's heartbeat did not.
It intensified.
He descended beside Chisa, who was leading the group toward a shallow cavern where they would practice navigation and buoyancy control. Iori and Kohei were struggling behind, one drifting upward, the other downward, each flailing with confused body positioning. Aina floated sideways, her fins nearly slapping Iori's face. Tokita and Tanaka were swimming like torpedoes but without any sense of subtlety.
Stevan maintained neutral buoyancy effortlessly. But his senses were sharpening past normal limits. He was seeing too clearly—spotting currents and micro-motions, feeling vibrations in the water far away, noticing the subtle shift in pressure caused by distant fish movements.
The curse was amplifying his perception.
And amplifying something else.
Chisa turned and gestured for the group to practice circling the cavern entrance. Iori, dizzy, miscalculated and knocked his head against the rock. Kohei panicked and grabbed onto his leg, spinning them both. Aina screamed through her regulator as her fin became entangled in seaweed.
Stevan felt the pulse rise.
Not fear.
Something darker, sliding along the edges of instinct.
His vision was narrowing into a tunnel that focused on movement—sudden, confused, chaotic movement.
He gripped his regulator hard enough that his glove tightened.
No.
Not here.
Not in front of them.
Chisa noticed something was wrong. Her eyes sharpened, scanning Stevan's rigid posture.
She swam up to him, placed a hand against his arm.
A shock coursed through him, as if the contact grounded him abruptly. His vision widened. The curse recoiled like an animal startled by light.
Stevan blinked. The world steadied.
He exhaled, bubbles rising in a slow column.
Chisa tilted her head, questioning silently.
He signed back: Under control.
She didn't believe it. But she nodded and gestured him to resume formation.
The practice continued with the usual disasters. Iori managed to collide with Kohei twice. Aina's goggles filled with water. Tokita demonstrated an aggressive fin kick that nearly blasted Tanaka into the cavern wall. It was chaotic, comedic, and perfectly Grand Blue.
Stevan forced his focus outward, suppressing every surge pulsing under his ribs. The ocean around them grew calmer the more he fought the internal pressure. He guided Iori's legs, repositioned Kohei's arms, untangled Aina from her floating mess of weeds. They clung to him like drowning cats.
When the group finally resurfaced, Nanaka was clapping. "Good work, everyone!"
"No, it wasn't," Chisa said bluntly.
"No, it wasn't," Stevan added.
Iori spat out seawater. "Please let us lie down."
"You can lie down after cleaning the gear," Nanaka replied with unsettling cheer.
Kohei screamed internally.
The group dragged their wet bodies back onto the sand. Chisa sat down beside Stevan, watching him quietly. "Whatever you're fighting," she said, "you almost lost it underwater."
He didn't answer.
"Stevan… if you become a danger, I'll stop you myself."
He finally turned to her. "Then make sure you're faster than the curse."
She frowned. "This isn't funny."
"It wasn't a joke."
Their eyes held. The waves crashed behind them, the breeze carrying the salty scent of the sea across the beach.
Stevan stood, lifting his tank effortlessly. "Let's clean up."
As he walked ahead, Chisa remained seated for a moment, gripping the sand. Her gaze followed him with a mixture of worry, curiosity, and something else she couldn't quite name.
Behind them, Iori and Kohei collapsed dramatically, shouting at the sky, "Why does diving practice always feel like a boss fight?!"
Tokita flexed. "Because we are the bosses."
Tanaka flexed beside him. "And you are the mobs."
Iori curled into a ball. "Kill me."
The sun rose higher. The day continued. And beneath Stevan's skin, the curse slept—but only lightly.