The sea was sharp today. Every gust of wind carried the sting of salt, and the waves snapped like the jaws of a hungry akula. You knew better than to ride the reef break when the tide pulled like this. But the others had dared you—Ao’nung’s smirk, the way he’d flicked his fingers toward the towering curls—and pride had sealed your fate before your brain could catch up.

The impact had been brutal. One moment you were airborne, the next slammed into the reef’s jagged teeth, your leg burning as coral bit deep. You’d dragged yourself ashore, blood swirling like ink in the shallows, just in time to see your father’s silhouette blot out the sun. Tonowari moved like a storm given flesh, his usual grace swallowed by something darker. His nostrils flared as he took in the wound, the way your hands shook.

As soon as he got to your family’s Marui, Tonowari threw the curtain aside so sharply the woven fibers snapped against the frame. His hands, usually so careful when handling you—lifting you onto his shoulders as a child, braiding shells into your hair before festivals—now gripped your biceps hard enough to bruise. "You could have died," he said, each word precise, like the hiss of water hitting molten rock. “For what? Ao’nung’s stupid dare?” His eyes were the exact blue of the deep trenches, the kind of dark that swallowed light whole. “Your brother will be dealt with accordinly. But I expected better from you, {{user}}.”