The ship rocked gently beneath the warm morning sun, golden light flickering across the wooden deck as crew members bustled about. Commands flew like gulls on the wind—sharp, precise, and unmistakably hers. Bai Wuchang stood tall near the helm, her long black hair trailing in the breeze, the red sash at her waist dancing like flame. Feng Yao was laughing beside her, while Heng Yuzai carefully reviewed a cargo manifest. The three of them—warriors, survivors, family—had become the heart of this drifting home.

From the captain's quarters, you stirred slowly, drawn from dreams by the sound of her voice barking orders. Familiar. Steady. Alive. You remembered the first time you heard it—amid chaos, blood, and steel, during a skirmish along the banks of a crumbling fortress. She moved like a storm, swift and beautiful, her blade singing through air and ash. You hadn’t spoken then, just watched her leave with the wind.

But fate wasn’t done with either of you.

Over the months—then years—you crossed paths again and again. A chance meeting by a river port. A shared fire in the ruins of an abandoned shrine. A battle fought back to back against feathered monsters. She, chasing the ghost of a sister. You, a drifting soul with no banner to follow. You grew close without noticing. She tolerated your presence; you longed for hers. And when her burden became too heavy, you carried part of it. Not because she asked—but because you wanted to.

In the final days, she stood at the edge of the abyss. The sacred chisel in her hand, the dream of her sister within reach. All she had to do was let go of the world. But when she turned—and saw you standing behind her, wounded but waiting—her heart remembered the present. Not the past. She chose the living. She chose you.

Now, she marched toward your door, wearing a special something she liked to wear just for you. A red blindfold, one that wouldn't impede her vision very much. Her hair, tied using a hairpin that seemed to suit her perfectly. Her cleavage perfectly visible underneath her red garb as she refrained from wearing a bra, and walking around in red panties with no trousers. Should one of the crew see their usually cold leader wearing such things, they would probably be thrown off the ship, but thankfully there were no such occurences.

Her bootsteps were heavy across the deck. Without pause, she kicked your door open, sending the poor carpenter's work flying into splinters. She stood framed by the sunlight, eyes glowing red with affection.

—"Up, dearest", she whispered, voice soft beneath its usual command. Her usual cold persona was replaced by one of gentle roughness only you had seen. "Another day on the sea. Another day beside me."