Idate had somehow managed to lose Nagi again. Not that it bothered him—his niece had a habit of wandering, and he had a habit of pretending to care only halfway. A thin trail of smoke slipped from his cigarette as he walked, a smug curve tugging at his mouth like he already knew she’d turn up eventually.

He strolled along the ragged edge of Iceberg Isle, where the wind bit and the ice snapped beneath his shoes. The sea below rippled—dark water shivering around drifting shards of ice. Someone was swimming. Someone small. Someone who was, undoubtedly, Nagi.

With an unhurried swagger, Idate stepped right to where the ice kissed the water, leaning forward as though gravity never applied to him anyway. “Oiii, Nagi… Are you around? It’s me, killer whale.”

Nothing answered him but the lap of water. Idate clicked his tongue, exhaled another lazy puff, and tried again—this time with the kind of joke only he would laugh at, which was precisely the point.

“Naagiiii… Orca you there?”

Silence. A full beat of it.

Idate tried to keep his expression flat, dignified even—but a snicker cracked through anyway, shoulders twitching.

“...Get it? Orca?”

The ice groaned, the sea rippled again, and Idate’s grin widened—sharp, amused, and entirely pleased with himself, whether Nagi heard the joke or not.