The boat cut through the open sea with a cyclical impact that traveled through the soles of my sandals and vibrated along my spine.
Teal glass lay deceptively calm across the expanse, broken only by the white churn of our wake, but the air hung thick enough to resist movement. A slow, coiling pressure in my chest signaled the storm's eye drawing closer; the atmosphere compressed as if being sucked into a vacuum, the barometric drop forcing my lungs to work for every intake.
Gritty residue clung to every available surface. It crusted on my eyelashes and dried in a fine crystalline layer across my polarized glasses, the sun smeared into a hazy orb. I adjusted the frames, fingers sticking to the black plastic. Humidity's climbing, aerosolized brine congealing into a corrosive paste that made my skin itch beneath the straps of my tank top.
Behind me, Naruto groaned, the sound dry and gritty. He lay sprawled across the deck, mesh tank top damp with sweat that darkened the orange fabric of his shorts where it touched his skin.
"Why is it so hot?!" he whined, voice cracking. "It's November! This is a crime!"
"You're from Fire Country, kid," Anko drawled. She sat perched on a crate, the interlocking rings of her chainmail glinting with a dull heat. Airflow whipped through her bare arms, but she sat, a sunbathing predator unmoved by the dead air. "This is just the world reminding you that you're small."
Each inhale came shallow and resisted. Kakashi stood near the mast, his dark navy short-sleeved tee revealing lean forearms where the sea breeze pulled at the fine hair. He held no tension in his stance, weight redistributed in micro-adjustments—his center of gravity dancing with the roll of the waves. His inner ear seemed perfectly aligned with the sea now, his skin cool and dry despite the oppressive sun.
Idate Morino pulled my attention toward the bow. He stood braced against the timber, dark navy tunic snapping. He moved with a practiced stillness, high-tension calf muscles absorbing the deck's vibration.
"Idate," I called, pushing off the railing. My hip pouch, weighted by the steel of a Fuma Kunai, tugged against my shorts. "Terrain check. What are we landing on?"
He didn't turn. Dark grey eyes stayed fixed on the horizon where Nagi Island remained a shadow. "It's volcanic. Rough ground."
"Rough is a category, not a description," I countered, stepping closer. The heat from the bleached planks burned through my soles.
"Cliffs," Idate said, a sharp edge entering his voice. "The northern peninsula hosts forests growing on forty-five degree slopes. My shins ache just looking at the silhouette. You don't run those slopes; you claw up them while the current tries to pull the ground from under you. If you miss a step, you fall straight into the teal current."
Anko suddenly stood, chainmail producing a cold metallic chatter. She stepped into Idate's personal space, forcing him to re-anchor his weight. "You've got the same guarded look your brother Ibiki had during the prelims," she noted, voice dropping to a dangerous purr. "Hopefully, you've got more than just a runner's lungs. Ibiki nearly broke my arm when we were brats. I still owe that family a receipt."
Idate flinched, jaw tightening until the muscle jumped. He replanted his footing, moving away from her as if bracing for a strike. "Ibiki's history is his own," he bit out, breathing turning shallow and defensive. "I'm the one on the clock here. Leave the Morino name out of your grudges."
"You're stiffening up," Anko replied, her grin widening. "Don't choke on the history, Wasabi."
"Hey!" Naruto interrupted, standing up and yanking the zippers on his pants to reveal orange shorts. "We're almost there! Who cares about verticality? I'll just jump over it!"
"Preparation beats athleticism, Naruto," I muttered, checking the seals in my right thigh pouch. "I'm summoning Tsuyuyu once we're within a kilometer to scout the benthic macroalgae. I don't want the propeller snagging on kelp."
"Great idea!" Naruto grinned, biting his thumb. "Then I'll summon Gamakichi!"
"Wait—Naruto, not on the—"
Smoke exploded across the deck, the density of the vapor tripled by the stagnant spray. The hull listed sharply to the left as a new weight registered against the timber.
"What the hell!" Anko snapped, hand blurring toward a kunai.
The smoke thinned, revealing ozone and stagnant marshwater. Sudden mass dropped directly onto my shoulders, driving my collarbones into my chest.
"Yo! Sylvie-chan!"
My knees buckled under the impact. Amphibian slime smeared across my black tank top. Gamakichi sat perched on my head, orange-and-blue skin unnaturally hot against my neck.
"AHHH! A GIANT FROG MONSTER!" Idate's voice tore through the air. He turned and dove for the hatch, the slam of the wooden door reverberating through the deck and up into my teeth. From below, the sound of a heavy stumble and a muffled "Stay away from the hull!" echoed through the planks.
Naruto crossed his arms. "Why do you always ignore me, Gama-kun?!"
Gamakichi stuck his tongue out. "My mom says boys stop being cute once they hit puberty, Naruto. You're too loud."
The boat corrected its list in a slow roll that forced Gamakichi to dig his pads into my shoulders. Water slapped against the hull with a heavy, uneven cadence. Naruto froze, his face orange as his shorts. Laughter escaped me, short and jagged, despite the toad pressing me into the deck.
Breath hitched in my humid throat, brine burning the back of my tongue as eyes watered from the combined sting of the humor and sea air. Blinking blurred everything into a dizzying smear of teal and white. The gritty residue on my glasses caught the midday glare, turning the horizon into a blinding white wall. I had to wait for the boat to pitch again, muscles tensing to compensate for the moving center of mass, before I could strain to refocus.
"Gama-kun, get down," I grunted, pushing the toad off. He hopped to the deck with a wet thud.
I tried to step back, but my sandals slid on a patch of residual deck stickiness where Gamakichi had landed. Every step required a traction check, my footing inconsistent between the slick slime and the roughened wood.
Out of the haze—jagged silhouette. I gripped the railing tighter, knuckles white. As we drew closer, the sharp outer edges of the volcanic cliffs snapped into clarity against the grey sky, though the interior remained a broken blur of bruised purple and green, filtered through crystals refracting light across my lenses. The glare blocked most of my view; I considered removing the glasses, but a stray gust of fine spray stung my eyes, forcing me to keep the distorted shield.
Leaning forward, sinuses popped as the pressure dipped. The air sat dead, but the silence was increasingly interrupted by staggered gusts that rattled the rigging.
"Look!" Naruto pointed.
A low-pulsing thrum vibrated through the wood of the deck, preceding the visual. Dolphins broke the surface. White arcs against the teal. A second later, the sound arrived—a staggered splash cadence against the water.
We crested a particularly high swell, and a sudden parallax shift occurred; the cliffs jumped forward against the thickening clouds, the scale of the rock formations recalibrating in my head. The island was significantly closer than the drift suggested.
The northern peninsula pulled my attention. Volcanic ridges—exposed ribs cutting through interlocked canopy. In the western coves, knotted masses of debris or nets caught the light—the density looked wrong for simple kelp. If there were traps waiting in that mess, they were positioned with a surveyor's precision.
"Nothing is simple," I murmured.
Gusts began striking from the flank, a sudden needle-sting. My lungs worked harder against the colder air pulling from the deeper currents offshore. Mesh and fabric fluttered aggressively. High-level clouds thickened into a veil, the sky transitioning from bleached blue to an ominous, layered grey.
The atmosphere cinched shut, the wind turning into a steady, predatory whistle against the mast. The fine crystalline layer on my lenses was thick enough now that I had to peer over the rims to see the shoreline.
I adjusted the strap of my Fuma Kunai, the weight of the steel grounding me against the swaying deck. Nagi Island sat ahead—rugged, isolated, and waiting.
"Alright," I whispered, voice thin against the aggressive hiss of the current. "Time to land."