The Alcor cut through the calm, open seas, a steady, rhythmic journey under a clear, star-dusted sky. The chaotic, storm-wracked waters of Inazuma were now a distant memory. In the peaceful, liminal space between the two great nations, Ren found time for quiet conversations.
One evening, he found Kazuha sitting alone at the ship's prow, his gaze fixed on the endless, dark horizon, a small, maple leaf held loosely in his fingers. The wandering samurai had an air of profound, settled peace about him, a stillness that hadn't been there on their journey out.
"The sea is calm tonight," Ren said, coming to stand beside him.
Kazuha turned, a gentle, genuine smile on his face. "Indeed. The winds are gentle. It seems all the storms have passed." He then looked at Ren, his calm, red eyes full of a new, clear, and deeply grateful, light. "I owe you my thanks," he said, his voice a soft, quiet murmur.
"For what?" Ren asked, confused.
"For helping me to understand," Kazuha replied, his gaze returning to the horizon. "I was on a journey to understand the nature of a god's will, of Eternity. I thought, perhaps, if I could understand it, I could reignite my friend's ambition, his Vision." He looked down at the gray, lifeless gem at his hip. "But watching you, listening to your stories, seeing what you have done… I have come to a new conclusion."
He turned to Ren, his expression one of serene, profound acceptance. "The Vision… it is only a symbol. A catalyst. The true ambition, the true will… it lies within us. It is the fire in a person's heart that matters, not the gem on their belt. My friend's ambition did not die with his Vision; it lives on, in my memory, in my journey. His Vision may never light up again. And that… is alright. I do not need it to. I carry his dream with me."
He had found his peace. His long, wandering quest was over.
"Are you still a fugitive?" Ren asked gently.
Kazuha shook his head, a small, relieved smile on his face. "No. After the Vision Hunt Decree was abolished, I… paid a visit to the Tenryou Commission headquarters. Captain Beidou was with me, of course. My arrest warrant has been officially, and very quietly, rescinded." He looked around at the familiar, sturdy deck of the Alcor. "But I have decided to stay here, for now. I find I have grown fond of this life. Of the sea, of the wind, and of the company."
Later that night, Ren sought out the captain of that company. He found Beidou in her private cabin, looking over a nautical chart, a cup of strong, steaming tea in her hand.
He closed the door, a serious, confidential look on his face. "Captain Beidou," he began, his tone polite but firm. "We need to talk about the man-made Visions."
Beidou looked up, her single, sharp eye fixing on him, a slow, knowing grin spreading across her face. "Ah. So you heard about that, did you? Thought you might. A little birdy in the resistance, I assume."
"I did," Ren confirmed. "And while I know you did a good thing, that you helped to save lives… we have a problem."
He laid out his concern, his logic as clear and as direct as a navigator's chart. "Having unregistered, untraceable, high-powered elemental devices in the hands of a rebel army in a foreign nation… it is not a good thing. The war is over now. And those devices are still out there."
Beidou's grin faded, replaced by a look of serious, professional understanding. She knew he was right. Her act of compassionate smuggling had created a dangerous, loose thread.
"I am hoping," Ren continued, his voice full of a quiet, but unshakeable, authority, "that you will be the one to help me tie it up. I need you to collect them. All of them."
He saw the flicker of hesitation in her eye—it would be a difficult, and potentially dangerous, task.
"You won't have to fight for them," he added, anticipating her concern. "When I was on Watatsumi Island, I had a private talk with their leader, Sangonomiya Kokomi. I explained the situation to her. I explained my registration system, the law of one per person, the need for accountability. She is a brilliant and very logical person. She understands."
He looked at the powerful, pragmatic pirate captain, and he made his final, reasonable, and utterly persuasive, point. "All you have to do is send a message to her. Inform her that the war is over, and that if her people wish to wield my technology, they must do so legally. Tell them that once the new, more open, Sakoku Decree is in place, I will personally ensure that a legal, official, and fair, registration process is established for the people of Watatsumi. They will get their devices. But they must be the registered ones."
He had given her a perfect, peaceful solution. He had already laid the groundwork, securing the cooperation of the resistance's leader. He was asking Beidou not to be a pirate, but to be a diplomat.
Beidou was silent for a long moment, her single, sharp eye looking at the small, serious boy who was now calmly, politely, and very effectively, negotiating matters of international arms control with her.
She let out a long, slow, and deeply, deeply, impressed, sigh.
"Kid," she said, a new, profound respect in her voice. "You don't miss a single trick, do you?" She then picked up her cup of tea and raised it in a silent, binding toast. "Alright. You've got a deal. I'll get your toys back for you."
The final, dangerous, loose thread of his Inazuman adventure had just been, with a quiet conversation and a shared, unspoken contract, neatly, and expertly, tied up.