Razor kept tugging at the uniform with a sour look, not just because it made her look ridiculous but because the heat was cooking her alive. The blazing sun seemed to hammer down on her pale skin, which was now slick with sweat sliding down her face. Her unimpressed glare drooped so low it was hard to tell if she was angry, exhausted, or halfway melting into a puddle.
"How do you land-creatures survive this?!" she groaned, dragging her feet like a dying fish. "The sun's trying to murder me! My skin's gonna crack like old driftwood, and then I'll shrivel up into some horrible dried husk—like a skeleton left on a beach! I'm done! I hate land. Land is evil. If I don't get water soon, I swear I'll throw myself in the nearest barrel and live there forever!"
Chiaki walked steadily, her desert uniform designed with a loose, pale cloak and a wide hood that shaded her face. Thin, breathable layers wrapped around her arms and legs, meant to keep the heat at bay while protecting against the sun's bite. She looked from under her hood at Razor, who was dragging herself along much slower than expected.
"Didn't I warn you this wouldn't be the best place for a fish?" Chiaki said calmly, her voice carrying no judgment—just a simple reminder.
Razor's eye twitched, her sweat-slick hair clinging to her forehead as she snapped back, "Oh, thank you, Miss Genius-With-A-Hood. What do you want me to say? 'Oh wow, Chiaki, you were right, I'm just a stupid fish roasting like dinner on a rock'?!" She flailed her arms, almost stumbling. "Next time, shove me in a bucket of water and drag me along like luggage—I'll move faster that way!"
Yumiko, walking ahead, rested two fingers thoughtfully on her chin, her face as unreadable as ever. "Hmm… you know, that's actually not a bad idea, Razor. There are a few barrels of water nearby—we could roll one along for you to swim in."
Razor blinked, then threw her arms out dramatically. "Oh, fantastic! Yes, please, just wheel me around like a pet goldfish on tour. Maybe throw in a couple decorative rocks while you're at it! I was joking!"
Chiaki cast her gaze back toward the distant coastline where their path had begun, her voice steady but thoughtful. "I just hope Venos is safe back there, on his own."
Yumiko's tone, soft and reassuring, slipped in without effort. "You don't need to worry about him. He's probably more comfortable on his boat than we are under this sun." A small curve tugged at her lips as she added, almost idly, "Shade, a breeze off the waves, a full barrel of fresh water—he might be the one pitying us, not the other way around."
Chiaki turned her head just enough to glance at Yumiko, her expression flat, almost unamused. "You really haven't changed much," she said dryly, the faintest note of sarcasm threading through her calm voice. Her eyes narrowed a touch before drifting back to the road ahead. "Same personality… only difference now is your hair and body."
Yumiko blinked at her, then a sly smile crept across her lips. "Oh? So you have been paying attention," she teased, leaning slightly closer with a playful glint in her eyes. "Careful, Chiaki—you're making it sound like you've been checking me out this whole time."
Chiaki's eyes half-lidded, unimpressed, but before she could even form a reply—
"Oh for cryin' out loud!" Razor's voice cracked across the air like a cannon. She stomped down the dusty road, arms flailing above her head like an enraged gorilla, making actual huff-huff noises as she planted each foot.
"You two! With your calm voices and your little smug side-glances—what is this?!" She jabbed a finger at them both, nearly tripping over her own stomping. "You're not dating! You're not married! You're not some romantic soap opera! Stop acting like some reserved, lovey-dovey couple while I'm over here third wheelin' in the flames of the sun!"
She puffed her cheeks, then waved both arms around dramatically as if trying to fan herself with her own tantrum. "Seriously—tone it down, before I start throwing coconuts at both your heads!"
Yumiko crossed her arms and leaned back slightly, her voice calm and teasing. "You know, Razor, you probably won't find many coconuts around here."
Razor stopped mid-stomp, glaring at Yumiko with a scrunched-up face, cheeks puffed and arms flailing slightly. "Hey! Don't you go acting all smug about it! I'm not asking for coconuts, I'm telling you—this is so unfair! Why do you always have to be so calm and ridiculous, huh?!"
Chiaki, still unfazed, simply rubbed the back of her neck and muttered under her breath, "She really does not understand subtlety at all."
It didn't take them long to reach a stretch of desolate land. The barren terrain ahead darkened, and sudden gusts of wind began whipping around them, carrying grit and debris in their path.
"Ugh! I've got sand in my eyes!" Razor shouted, swiping frantically at her face as she squinted and stumbled, struggling to keep her balance.
Yumiko, already familiar with the area and its challenges, didn't flinch. She glanced over her shoulder at Chiaki, who was following closely behind, a hint of concern in her expression. "Right now? This is the worst possible time for the wind to pick up," Yumiko said calmly. "You'd better brace yourselves. This area's about to be swallowed by a sandstorm."
"A sandstorm…?" Chiaki's expression tightened, her focus sharpening as the winds whipped around them. "Yumiko, is there anywhere we can take shelter before this thing swallows us whole? You've been through here before—you must know a safe spot to wait it out."
The wind howled, growing stronger and more violent by the second, whipping sand across their path. The sky darkened, the storm cutting visibility down to near nothing.
"There is a spot," Yumiko replied, her tone calm but alert. "But we'll still get caught in part of the storm before we reach it. We should have just enough time, though, if we move quickly. Let's just hope the people in that town don't kick us off their streets when we arrive."
Chiaki spent her days with her friends, always learning, always observing, seeing firsthand just how differently people lived and thought. She carried herself with a steady calmness, knowing when to hold back and when to act—lessons carved into her through their journey together.
"A sandstorm's the least of our worries. Those people need help, and we're going to give it, even if they don't care for us. Shelter's important, yes, but someone out there must understand what's at stake. Whether they like us or not doesn't matter right now. Shanya asked for help in her homeland—that's why we're here."
Yumiko glanced at her, surprised. Chiaki, normally so reserved, spoke with a quiet strength that reminded her of Temoshí. Both had that reckless streak, but Chiaki's words carried something else—foresight. She was already thinking about more than just themselves.
"Whoa. You've changed, Chiaki. Not so hesitant anymore. Guess Lyvoria Crest left more of a mark on you guys than I realized… and it hasn't even been that long."
As Yumiko spoke, the storm thickened, whirling higher and angrier by the second.
"You guys! I am not about to choke on sand for the rest of the week! Can we move already?!" Razor barked, stomping across the desert floor like it personally offended her.
Not far from them, a lone figure moved through the desert, wrapped in a practical, layered cloak that shielded her from the scorching sun and whipping sand. Her outfit consisted of muted, earthy fabrics—sandy grays and dusty olives with functional straps and pockets—and a bag slung over one shoulder that blended seamlessly with the ensemble. Only her eyes peeked from under the hood, sharp and alert.
She squinted toward the group and murmured, "What's with them?" Then, a grin spreading across her face, she added, "Another bunch of crazy people wandering out here."
Kyora crouched at the front of the ship, partially hidden behind thick foliage and a shallow pond on the deck. The device in her hands—a dark, polished orb etched with shifting, arcane symbols—hummed softly, allowing her to communicate across the ocean.
The device buzzed. A calm, confident voice came through: "So… found anything yet?"
Kyora's sharp eyes scanned the horizon. "Not exactly. Just picking up murmurs about the dunes… and the Destiny Needle. Everyone whispers, but no one actually knows where it is."
"You handling it alone?" the voice asked.
Kyora let out a faint, dry laugh. "Alone? Hardly. I've got my 'crew' with me—the Phoenix Pirates. They're… useful. Smart enough to make a difference if I let them. But don't think for a second that I'm relying on them for the real work. That's still me."
The voice chuckled. "Smart. The Needle isn't easy to get. Keep your people sharp, and move carefully."
Kyora leaned against the device, her grin faint but calculated. "Oh, they're sharp enough… for their own gain. I respect what they bring to the table. But let's be clear: they follow my lead, not the other way around. If they want to get anything out of this, they play by my rules."
"Understood," the voice said. "We're on our way to the Land of Armagh and should reach you in a few hours. If you need help, we'll be there."
Kyora nodded and clicked the button after giving her report. "I'll reach out if I uncover anything else of value." The device went silent, and she slid it into her back pocket.
She leaned against the ship's railing, her gaze steady on the jungle below. "Alright… just need to talk them into helping me. And I know exactly who won't demand anything in return. Let's hope that cook's nearby—he'll be easy enough to mislead. As for the others… best they don't start asking questions."
With that, Kyora vaulted over the railing, landing lightly on the sandy bank near the pond. She cast one last glance back at the ship, exhaling softly, before tightening her grip on her staff and darting into the forest.
The people Kyora had contacted were aboard a different ship, mostly women with a few men among them.
From the crowd emerged their captain, her presence unmistakable. Dressed in white with a wide-brimmed hat and long coat etched with sleek designs, she struck the image of a futuristic gunslinger. A silver revolver rested easily in her hand, her belt lined with golden bullets glinting like a promise. Black gloves and armored boots grounded her elegance with menace, and every deliberate step drew the crew's eyes to her alone.
When the murmurs fell, she strode forward, every deliberate step pulling all eyes to her.
One of her crew members stepped up to face her, the rest quickly following. Unlike many other crews, this one carried a sense of mutual respect — everyone had the freedom to speak their mind.
"Hey, Bullet," one of them began, half-teasing but with genuine relief. "Did our navigator finally bring us some good news? It's been ages since we heard from her. I was starting to think she'd gotten herself killed. Glad to see that's not the case."
Bullet, their captain through and through, let her gaze sweep across the crew before shifting to the endless horizon — nothing but the open sea stretching before them.
"We don't have the full picture yet," she said evenly, "but word is spreading about the Destiny Needle around the Land of Armagh. That island's the first to know, which means it won't be long before others catch wind of it. Finding solid information on the needle is rare, and plenty of crews will be hunting it down. For now, we'll trust Kyora's research… and prepare for whatever's waiting for us."
The next crew member stepped forward, quieter and more reserved than the others. "And if the rumors are just that—rumors? What if the needle isn't even there? Chances are we'll just move on."
Bullet gave a slow nod, then pivoted to lean her elbows on the railing behind her. The brim of her white hat caught the wind as she lifted her eyes to meet her crewmate's. "I'm fairly certain the needle isn't just lying around," she said calmly. "It wouldn't be that easy to find. But what I do know… even if the details are just rumors, the fact that people—ordinary citizens, no less—are talking about it? That's valuable. None of the other homelands we've visited had even a whisper about it. This… this is progress."
Bullet continued, "Once Kyora uncovers more about the needle, we'll pick her up and move forward. She's probably had her fill of dealing with those pirates by now—she's been away from her real crew for too long. The last time we had any contact with her was when that crew disbanded, two years ago. But now that she's gathered intel on the needle, it's time for her to return. She handled everything perfectly, even risking herself with those reckless pirates, and made a name for herself along the way. She's grown—and so have we."
To be continued...