The water was colder than Stevan expected, biting through his wetsuit as he kicked downward. Even so, his pulse thrummed with anticipation. Days of chaotic training, misfires, degenerate nights, and a rotating cast of lunatics from Izu's diving circles had led to this: his first recorded deep dive with the Izu Club, a rite of passage everyone kept promising would "forge his soul or completely break it." Hearing that from Tokita and Kotobuki had not been reassuring.
Chisa swam ahead with calm, economical movements that only years of disciplined practice could produce. Her form was impeccable: stable descent, balanced kicks, flawless buoyancy. Stevan, on the other hand, felt like a half-trained seal who had accidentally joined a professional ballet troupe. His breathing was steady, at least. Control that, the rest follows—she had told him that a dozen times. Today it finally stuck.
Above them, the surface fractured into a mosaic of rippled light. Below them, the reef they were approaching opened like a dim, blue cathedral.
Stevan kept his distance from her fins, determined not to ruin her perfect line. She turned her head slightly, giving him a reassuring gesture. Good pace. Good depth. Keep going.
He nodded back, forgetting briefly that nodding underwater was awkward and dramatically useless.
The descent continued. Pressure built around his chest and ears. He equalized, slowly, punching through the discomfort. Chisa observed him again, this time with a subtle but unmistakable look of approval. It hit him harder than he expected.
Focus. Don't embarrass yourself.
Tokita and Kotobuki were somewhere behind them, probably challenging each other to some unspoken macho contest about who could hold their breath longest or who could wrestle a fish. At this point, Stevan no longer questioned the logic of these men. He simply accepted that they were manifestations of chaos.
The reef rose before them in jagged formations dotted with vivid life. Schools of silver fish scattered as the group approached, shimmering like loose coins in dark water. Stevan slowed, mesmerized. The world above always felt loud, absurd, drenched in alcohol and testosterone. Down here everything was calm, clean, solemn. It was the closest thing to silence he had felt in months.
He checked his buoyancy, leveled out, and drifted beside Chisa. She pointed downward toward a narrow canyon splitting the reef. The plan was to pass through it slowly to test his composure in tight spaces.
He took the lead position she indicated, heart quickening again. As he approached the canyon entrance, he felt her presence behind him—close but not encroaching, attentive in the way seasoned divers monitored rookies without patronizing them.
He exhaled slowly.
And moved forward.
The canyon swallowed them, trimming the ambient light into beams slipping through cracks above. Fish darted around the crevices. Stevan extended one gloved hand to stabilize himself without touching the coral. Chisa's light tapped twice against the stone: perfect distance, no contact. Good form.
His confidence surged.
He glided deeper, emerging at the far end of the canyon where the seabed expanded into a sandy plateau. Visibility sharpened. Blue stretched endlessly. A stingray drifted lazily across the bottom, dissolving into dust trails of sand.
Stevan almost smiled around his regulator.
This was the reason he started diving. Not for the over-the-top competitions or the drinking marathons or being dragged into horrifying "training exercises" that usually involved nudity he never asked to witness. This—quiet discovery—was the piece of himself he'd been trying to reclaim.
He turned toward Chisa again.
But something was wrong.
She had stopped several meters behind, frozen mid-kick, staring at something on the seafloor.
Stevan followed her line of sight.
There, half-buried in sand, was a metallic container—sturdy, rectangular, dented at one edge. It looked recent, not rusted, not yet consumed by the sea. The kind of thing that did not belong here.
Chisa signaled caution.
Stevan signaled acknowledgment. He moved forward slowly, mindful of the sediment. When he got close enough, he brushed sand away gently. The container was locked but sealed tight, pressure-stable. No markings. No rust. No algae. It had not been here long.
He looked back at Chisa. Her eyes narrowed, reflecting calculation. She flashed a new signal.
Retrieve it. Carefully.
Stevan slid his arms underneath, surprising himself with how easily it lifted. A faint metallic clunk sounded inside. Nothing sharp or explosive, just heavy. He gave her a questioning gesture.
She hesitated, then signaled for ascent, keeping the container between them. Her posture was cautious but controlled, as if she was not scared but simply respecting the unknown.
They rose slowly through the blue. The water warmed with every meter.
As the surface neared, Tokita and Kotobuki arrived from a diagonal path, both still wrestling underwater for some insane reason. When they finally noticed the object Stevan was carrying, they froze, eyes widening dramatically.
Chisa surfaced first. Stevan emerged seconds later, catching sunlight across his mask.
They inflated their BCDs and drifted. Tokita and Kotobuki broke the surface with twin whoops that echoed like cavemen.
"Hey! What's that box? Did you find sunken treasure? A stash? A bomb? A cursed relic?" Tokita shouted.
Chisa scowled lightly. "Do not yell bomb in a marine zone."
Kotobuki leaned over, grinning. "Stevan, you lucky bastard. This is how every legendary diving story starts. You're probably cursed now. Congratulations, man!"
Stevan floated, breath heavy. "It's locked. No clues on it."
Chisa wiped water from her face. "We bring it back to shore. Carefully."
Tokita cracked his knuckles. "We should open it right here."
"No," Chisa said sharply. "We open it on land. With proper control."
Kotobuki leaned close and whispered to Stevan, "She means: where she can beat us if we break something."
Chisa pretended not to hear him, though Stevan could see her eyebrow twitch.
They swam toward the shore. The sun was high, waves calm. The box weighed heavily against Stevan's chest as he kicked. Every few minutes he caught Chisa glancing at him—serious, thoughtful, not panicked but analyzing multiple outcomes.
When they reached the shallows, Tokita tried to yank the box from Stevan.
Chisa slapped his hand away immediately.
"Do not touch it without gloves. We do not know what's inside."
Tokita recoiled. "Yes, ma'am."
They carried it across the beach and onto a tarp near the equipment bench. The sun glinted off the container's surface: brushed steel, military-grade, no serial number visible.
Chisa crouched beside it. "Everyone stand back."
Tokita and Kotobuki took exaggerated steps backward.
Stevan remained beside her. She looked at him sharply.
"You stay. This is your find."
The words hit him harder than they should have. Recognition from Chisa was rare, valuable, and usually delivered in sparse units like gold coins.
She retrieved a small toolkit from a nearby crate. The latches required leverage. Stevan held the box steady while she worked. Her gloves brushed against his fingers briefly, sending a jolt through him that made him silently curse his own composure.
The lock clicked open.
They all leaned in.
Chisa lifted the lid.
Inside lay a neatly folded plastic tarp covering a stack of waterproof-wrapped packages. Under them, nestled in foam, something unexpectedly mundane sat at the bottom: a sealed bottle of premium whiskey, untouched, gleaming.
Tokita choked.
Kotobuki fell to his knees as if beholding a holy artifact.
Stevan blinked. "What the hell…?"
Chisa slowly removed one of the packages. She sliced it open with controlled precision.
Inside were dozens of laminated diving maps—accurate, well-drawn, charting sections of Izu's coastal region with notes, hazard indicators, and reef structures that only an expert would know. They looked valuable but not illegal.
But then she opened another package.
This one contained photos.
Dozens.
Of various diving groups across Izu, taken candidly, sometimes from impossible angles. Many included the Izu Club. Their nights at the bar. Their events. Their dives. Their failures. Their humiliations. Their drunken collapses. Some were from last semester. Some from last week.
Stevan's stomach tightened.
Kotobuki paled. "Wait… is this… was someone spying on us?"
Tokita inspected one photo showing him passed out naked on a pier, covered in Sharpie drawings. "Hey! Who took this? I don't even remember this night!"
"That's the problem," Kotobuki said gravely.
Chisa looked through the photos more carefully than the men. Her expression deepened. She paused at a picture of Stevan—taken two nights after he arrived in Izu—when he was practicing kicks near the pier. He had been alone. He had not seen anyone watching.
Stevan felt a chill.
Tokita jabbed a finger at him. "Bro, you're part of a conspiracy now. This is how anime arcs start."
Kotobuki crossed his arms. "A shadow photographer documenting the degeneracy of Izu's diving community. Unforgivable."
Chisa ignored them and opened the final item in the box.
A small waterproof notebook.
Her eyes narrowed, scanning the first page.
She froze.
Tokita leaned over her shoulder. "What does it say?"
She closed the notebook quickly. Too quickly.
"Nothing we discuss here," she replied curtly. "Not until I verify something."
Stevan frowned. "Chisa. What's wrong?"
She hesitated, then looked him dead in the eye.
"There is a reference to you inside. Before you arrived."
Silence fell instantly.
Tokita staggered. "Before? How the hell—"
Kotobuki whispered, "Is he the chosen one? A cursed diver? A government experiment?"
Stevan stared at the box, heart pounding. "A reference… about what exactly?"
Chisa stood up, authoritative and sharp.
"We are not opening that discussion until I confirm what I just read."
Her voice left no room for argument. The men, unusually, obeyed.
She closed the box, locked it again, and handed it to Stevan.
"You keep it for now. Out of sight. No one else touches it."
Tokita and Kotobuki saluted instantly, as if receiving military orders.
Stevan swallowed. "Why me?"
Chisa didn't blink. "Because someone wanted you to find it."
A cold gust rolled over the beach.
Tokita trembled with excitement. "Oh damn. Oh damn. We're in a real arc now."
Kotobuki pointed at the ocean dramatically. "Stevan, your destiny has awakened."
Stevan tried to keep his voice steady. "I just wanted to dive…"
Chisa stepped closer, almost too close, eyes firm.
"You will dive. But now you are also going to uncover why someone knew your name before you even set foot in Izu."
She turned toward the club house.
"Wash your gear. Eat something. And prepare yourself."
"For what?" Stevan asked.
She didn't look back.
"For the real beginning."