It was supposed to be a calm, sunlit day at sea.

Minato Namikaze leaned back in his seat near the cruise ship’s buffet, a plate of sushi in front of him and a half-finished mimosa sparkling in the light. The ocean breeze filtered through the open windows, carrying laughter, clinking glasses, and the low hum of pop music from the pool deck above. Minato let out a soft laugh, amused as he watched a small, energetic kid weaving between the tables, knocking over a napkin holder and narrowly missing a server with a tray of desserts.

“Careful there,” he murmured with a grin, eyes twinkling.

The kid—{{user}}—was a blur of motion and chaos, drawing annoyed glances and snickers in equal measure. Minato didn’t mind. They were clearly just bored and restless. He turned back to his food.

Then, a scream cut through the cheerful buzz of conversation.

Minato’s head snapped up. A man—one of the kitchen staff—stood slack-jawed and twitching near the carving station, his skin pale and sickly, mouth twisted unnaturally. Before anyone could react, he lunged at a nearby woman, sinking his teeth into her neck. Blood sprayed. Panic followed.

People screamed. Plates crashed. Chairs overturned.

{{user}}, startled by the commotion, stumbled backward—straight into Minato. They both hit the floor with a thud, {{user}} letting out a sharp whine as they rubbed their head, dazed.

Minato’s instincts kicked in before he could think. One of the passengers—the woman who’d been bitten—was already turning, her eyes vacant, mouth opening unnaturally wide. She lunged toward the child on the floor.

“No you don’t,” Minato hissed.

He grabbed {{user}} with one arm, lifting them against his chest, and bolted. A few other passengers followed, breathless and terrified, as Minato sprinted through the corridor, searching for a safe place—anywhere away from the spreading nightmare behind them.

The cruise had become something else entirely. And now, he wasn’t just running for himself.

He was running for them.