The sea struck without warning.
Not as a wave.
Not as a roar.
But as resistance.
The ship shuddered—once, sharply—metal screaming against pressure that did not belong to water alone. Lanterns swung violently beneath the hull, chains rattling as the massive vessel lurched off its intended course.
Aoi was already moving before the alarm sounded.
Her feet barely touched the floor as she sprinted down the corridor, instincts honed by years of reacting before thought could catch up. Crew members stumbled from their quarters, shouts overlapping as the ship tilted just enough to send unsecured objects skidding.
Raizen emerged onto the observation deck at the same moment Senji vaulted over a railing above, landing hard but controlled.
"That wasn't a wave," Aoi said.
Senji didn't answer immediately. His eyes were fixed on the instrument panel strapped to his forearm, symbols flashing red and white in erratic patterns.
"No," he said finally. "That was contact."
⸻
The First Sea Incident
Another impact followed—lower this time, deeper.
The sound reverberated through the hull like a distant bell struck underwater. The ship did not break, did not crack, but it yielded, bending slightly before stabilizing.
Crew members froze.
Then the alarms came.
Low, resonant horns echoed through the ship's interior—not panicked, but deliberate. Emergency runes ignited along the walls, bathing corridors in cold blue light.
Raizen braced himself against the railing. "Report."
Senji's fingers moved rapidly across the device. "Mass detected beneath the ship. No biological markers. Too symmetrical to be debris."
Aoi's eyes narrowed. "Structure?"
"Possibly," Senji replied. "Or something pretending not to be one."
The ship lurched again, harder this time.
Aoi vanished.
Hollow Step carried her to the outer maintenance ring in a blur, her movements instinctively adjusted to the ship's sway. She landed lightly near a group of crew struggling to secure a breached stabilizer seal.
"Move," she ordered, already assessing angles, timing, rhythm.
The sea pressed again.
Aoi stepped with it.
Her adapted Hollow Step snapped her forward in short bursts, stabilizing the seal just long enough for the crew to reinforce it. The floor steadied beneath their feet.
Raizen watched from above, chest tight—not with fear, but with recognition.
She'd learned.
The pressure eased.
The alarms fell silent one by one.
And just as suddenly as it had begun, the sea released them.
⸻
Aftermath
The ship glided forward once more, wounded only in pride.
Crew members exhaled, some laughing nervously, others dropping to sit against the walls. Orders were shouted, damage reports exchanged, repairs initiated.
Senji finally straightened, jaw tight.
"That confirms it," he said. "We crossed into its range."
Raizen turned to him. "You knew this would happen."
Senji didn't deny it. "I suspected. I didn't expect it this soon."
Aoi approached, wiping saltwater from her sleeve. "Whatever's down there," she said, "it didn't attack."
"No," Senji agreed. "It tested."
They stood in silence for a moment, the weight of that settling in.
Then Senji clapped his hands once.
"Alright," he said briskly. "That settles it."
Raizen blinked. "Settles what?"
"We're officially beyond the point where names matter," Senji replied. "From here on out, information leaks kill people. Patterns get you hunted."
Aoi crossed her arms. "You're saying we need aliases."
"Code names," Senji corrected. "Effective ones."
⸻
Names for the Deep
They regrouped in a quieter section beneath the hull, a small strategy chamber lined with maps and sea charts.
Senji leaned against the table, arms folded, eyes sharp with focus.
"I'll start," he said. "I'm Cinder Fox."
Aoi raised an eyebrow. "That was fast."
"I planned it," Senji replied without shame. "Fox for deception. Cinder because everything I touch burns after the fact."
Raizen nodded once. It fit.
Senji turned to Aoi. "You're Night Thread."
She tilted her head. "Why?"
"Because you move silently," he said, "and once you pass through a place, it never goes back to how it was."
Aoi considered it.
"…I don't hate it."
Senji looked to Raizen last.
He paused longer this time.
"You," he said slowly, "are Ashen Crown."
Raizen frowned. "That sounds… heavy."
"It is," Senji replied. "Because people will follow you whether you want them to or not. And because whatever burns under your command turns to ash."
Raizen didn't respond right away.
Then he nodded.
"…Alright."
The names settled between them—not disguises, but declarations.
⸻
A Moment of Calm
Later, once repairs were underway and the crew regained rhythm, the three of them stood along the inner promenade beneath the hull. Lanterns glowed softly again, reflecting across calm water just beyond the reinforced glass.
Aoi leaned against the railing, arms relaxed.
"Senji," she said casually, "you mentioned something earlier. About time."
Senji glanced over. "Ah. That."
Raizen looked between them. "What are you talking about?"
Senji smirked. "Did you know the first automobile was created in Germany?"
Raizen blinked. "A… car?"
"Motorized," Senji continued. "No horse."
Raizen stared at the water. "So that means…"
"1902," Senji said.
Aoi let out a quiet breath. "We're really far from the era we started in."
Raizen nodded slowly. "Progress doesn't stop just because monsters exist."
"And neither do wars," Senji added.
A bell rang somewhere above them—soft, ceremonial.
Senji glanced up. "They're preparing something. A gathering."
Aoi smiled faintly. "Feels strange. Celebrating while something ancient watches us from below."
Raizen rested his hands on the railing. "Then we celebrate because it does."
The ship sailed on.
Toward deeper water.
Toward older things.