The first gust struck with more force than anything thus far.
It tore across the deck sideways, snapping that canvas that remained half-lowered like a whip, forcing two sailors to brace themselves against the mast to keep from losing footing. The air changed all at once, shifting from heavy stillness to violent motion before anyone could react, and the sea responded in kind, lifting into sharper, uneven swells that rolled in conflicting directions.
The captain did not shout wildly, however. He barked clear orders, one at a time, and the crew moved without hesitation as if they had done this a thousand times before. The lines were secured, an additional sail was reefed, and loose cargo was lashed down twice over for extra precaution.
Ren stood near the center of the deck, watching everything at once, his posture steady despite the pitching hull. Masaru took position near the port side, checking tension along the rigging, while Takeshi helped haul down a stubborn section of canvas that refused to cooperate with the wind.
Akelldema moved instinctively toward the starboard rail where a coil of rope had begun to slide. He caught it before it could tumble free and secured it against a cleat. Rain had not yet fallen, but the sky had darkened so quickly that it felt like late evening though the sun had not fully set. The courier vessel loomed closer now, no longer patient.
"They're closing in!" Takeshi called over the rising wind.
Akelldema glanced across the waves and saw it clearly. The opposing hull had angled inward under cover of the storm's first surge. Its sails were trimmed tighter, risking their mast for more speed.
"They must think we'll turn to shore soon!" Masaru said sharply.
"We are not turning anywhere!" Ren answered.
Another gust slammed into them, harder than the first, and this time the rain followed. It did not begin gently. It fell in sheets without mercy, striking wood and skin with sharp lashes. Within seconds the deck was slick, and visibility shortened to a hazy gray wall beyond the nearest rigging.
The captain moved to the helm himself. "Hold steady," he commanded. "We will ride straight through."
The courier hull attempted to cut closer, but the wind shifted unpredictably. The sea lifted between them, a heavy crest that shoved both ships off clean lines. For a moment they drifted dangerously near, close enough for Akelldema to see some panicked figures bracing along the opposing rail.
Then the sky cracked.
Lightning tore across the clouds overhead, illuminating both vessels in a stark white flash that froze every shape in hard contrast. Thunder followed almost instantly, a deep concussion that seemed to shake the water itself.
The mast above Akelldema groaned under the strain.
"Secure that line!" Masaru shouted, pointing toward a whipping rope near the forward rigging.
Akelldema lunged toward it without hesitation. The line had come partially loose and snapped violently against the railing, threatening to tear free entirely. He wrapped his hands around it and pulled, fighting both wind and slick footing. The rope burned against his palms as he dragged it toward its fastening point.
Suddenly, he heard a sharp crack behind him, but it was different from the lightning, but he could not turn in time to see it.
The upper section of the main mast had split with a sharp, splintering report, the weakened wood finally giving way under the combined assault of wind and strain. The broken section lurched sideways, dragging attached lines with it.
"Akelldema!" Takeshi shouted.
The collapsing spar swung down in a wide arc. Sailors dove aside. The rope Akelldema held tightened suddenly, wrenched by the falling weight. He tried to release it, but the surge of wind at that exact moment shoved the hull sideways, and the deck pitched violently beneath his feet.
He stumbled on the slick deck, and for a fraction of a second, he caught sight of Ren moving toward him through the rain, expression sharpened, reaching desperately.
The broken spar slammed against the railing, and the force of it snapped the line free from Akelldema's grasp. The recoil threw him backward into the rail with crushing impact.
Then the sea rose again. A wave struck broadside, far larger than the others, driven by crosswind and momentum from the courier hull's interference. It smashed into the deck, washing across it in a surge that swallowed boots and knees alike.
The railing stood no chance, and gave way.
Akelldema suddenly felt nothing beneath his heel.
He tired to cry out, but the wind stole sound from his throat before it formed. One moment he stood on wood slick with rain. The next he was weightless, the world flipping as water swallowed him whole. The only thing on his mind was holding on to his family katana at all costs.
The ocean was not cold in the way he expected. But the force of it punched the breath from his lungs and spun him end over end, dragging him down before he could orient himself. Salt flooded his mouth and nose. The roar above the surface vanished into muffled thunder.
He reached blindly, and his hand struck wood. Not deck, but debris.
He clung to it with one hand without a second thought, kicking upward frantically until his head broke the surface.
The storm above was worse than it had seemed from deck level. Rain flattened the sea in sheets. Lightning flickered again, revealing brief silhouettes of both ships through haze and spray.
He tried to shout but the wind tore the sound away again.
The courier hull was barely visible through rain, its form shifting wildly as it struggled against the same fury. Their own ship appeared once in a flash of lightning, mast broken, crew scrambling in controlled chaos.
Then another swell rose between them. It lifted him high enough that he saw the coastline faintly in the distance, a dark suggestion through rain and mist.
The swell dropped him again. Then, the next wave separated him from everything he recognized.
He clung to the broken flotsome with all the strength he had left. The current did not care for direction or intention. It pulled him merciously wherever it pleased.
Time fractured into moments of breath and drowning.
Lightning. Darkness. Rain.
At some point the ships vanished entirely. He could no longer see them in any direction. Only the storm around him could be seen.
He tried to orient himself by the faint line of land he had glimpsed, but the rain erased it. The sea became an endless gray.
His arms were bruning, and his hands began to slip.
He thought briefly of his father's last look at the dock, of Miura's mischievous grin, and of the little garden by his home, how it never really obeyed anyone's hands, and grew how it pleased.
Then another wave struck him sideways and rolled him over the spar.
He swallowed water and coughed violently, nearly losing his grip entirely before managing to hook one arm back over the wood.
It dragged him for a long time, but he did not know how long. He had lost all sense of time and direction.
The rain continued until it felt less like falling water and more like part of the ocean itself. Thunder grew distant at last, not because it stopped, but because his senses dulled.
The current shifted quietly beneath him. The pull beneath him changed subtly, no longer outward but angled.
The next swell carried him higher than the last, and when he came down he felt something strike his leg. Stone.
Another wave lifted him and threw him forward.This time he hit sand.
The impact drove the breath from him again, and water rushed past his body, dragging him a few feet before retreating.
He did not try to stand, even if he thought he had the strength.
Another wave came and rolled him higher onto the shore.
The storm still raged overhead, but the water no longer claimed him fully. It struck and withdrew, leaving him half buried in wet sand and debris.
He lay there, face turned sideways against the ground, coughing until nothing remained in his lungs but raw salty air.
The sea continued its assault behind him, but it no longer held him.
The ships were gone, and the storm swallowed the horizon entirely.
Akelldema did not know how long he lay there before darkness claimed him.
He did not know if he had reached the same shore they had nearly chosen to avoid.
He only knew the ocean had taken him, and left him somewhere he had never intended to be.
(End of Arc)