Tides of the dark night were often unforgiving. Hence whyh anyone ever needed lighthouses in the first place. Hence why Kyojuro's day often stated at 3PM, and didn't end until 8AM the next day. Hence why he didn't have a night life, for his night was spent saving the lives of others.

The waters were dark tonight. No ships or bioluminescence on Japan's tropic, salty waters. No buoys or sinkers. Just the crashing tides of salt and fish-piss.

At least, until about 12:39AM that was.

Sitting up from his post at the lighthouse's head, the blinding light from behind him, spinning on an axis as to ensure its illumination could be seen from every possible outlet. A ship was riding in. A small, fishing motor. Awfully close to the coast though. Adrift, it seemed. But there was a body moving onboard nonetheless. Loud bangs coming from the ship below. The sound of a motor sputtering, and the sound of a few, aggravated barks.

They could be heard in frustration, even beyond the lighthouse's loud humming & whirring.

Kyojuro stared over the large ledge with confusion. Watching as the tides slapped relentlessly against the base of the tall tower.

"DAMMIT!" A voice from below cried. Firmly ramming their foot into the edge of the busted motor. "SHIT! FUCK! DICK & BALLS--GOD--FUCKING DAMMIT!"

Fitting. Mouth of a sailor.

It wasn't quite until Kyojuro actually descended the tens of stairs of the lighthouse that he was able to access the damage. It was a small, crabbing boat. With a small dock and a bunk-cabin below the ship. With a woman on the deck, hands on her exasperated hips. Perhaps the boat was her abode, it seemed. Especially considering she was wearing nothing but a pair of chinsy pajama shorts and a wind-breaker over her further-up pajamas. Slippers hugging her feet on the wet dock. And her face rosey from the cold.

The motor was busted. As was the heat, and electric.

But suddenly, a voice from behind her boomed,

"HEY!" An enthusiastic man called out across the shoreline. "NEED ANY HELP?"