The restaurant felt smaller with all of them inside, but the warmth made up for the cramped quarters. Kaito moved between the kitchen and their table, setting down plates of grilled fish that still sizzled, fresh bread that stead when broken, and bowls of rich soup. The steam carried the scent of salt and bay leaves, a sll so close to a forgotten mory of ho it made his shoulders ache to relax.
Pierre watched the man’s weathered hands as he served them, noting how they trembled slightly. Not from age or weakness, but from emotion barely held in check. Kaito’s dark eyes, so much like Mika’s, kept finding Pierre’s face. The man looked at him not with a simple thank you, but with a raw, unguarded reverence that felt heavier than any debt.
"Papa cried when you punched the an man," Mika announced cheerfully, tearing into her bread. "Happy tears though! Mama cried too, but she always cries when she’s cooking."
"Mika..." Kaito’s voice carried gentle reproach, but his smile took any sting from it.
"What? It’s true! You did cry! Big tears like when I fell off the dock and scraped my knee!"
Alyssa sat at the far end of the table, her spine rigid as a mast. She’d folded her hands in her lap and hadn’t touched her food beyond moving it around her plate. Every few seconds, her green eyes darted toward the family, watching their easy affection like soone studying a foreign language.
"The fish is good," he offered, nudging the conversation toward safer waters.
"You should see the ones I usually catch," Kaito replied, settling into his own chair. "Before..." He gestured vaguely toward the window, where the debris of the monunt was still visible. "Before everything changed."
Raven leaned back in her chair, balancing it on two legs. "So what happens now? With the Navy, I an. Reynolds didn’t look like he wanted the job."
"Reynolds is a good man," Kaito said slowly. "He always looked uncomfortable when Hardy gave orders. Maybe now he can do what’s right instead of what’s commanded."
"The townspeople will help," Mika added between bites. "We’re good at fixing things! Rember when the storm took out half the dock? Everyone worked together and made it even better than before!"
Alyssa’s fork clinked against her plate. "I should..." She stopped, the words catching in her throat. Her knuckles whitened where she gripped the utensil.
The table went quiet except for the soft sounds of eating and the distant celebration filtering through the windows.
"I should apologize," she said finally, the words coming out too fast. "To everyone. To you." Her eyes found Kaito’s face. "Your boat. The taxes. The way I... the way I acted. It was wrong."
Kaito studied her for a long mont. "You were young. Following what you were taught."
"That’s not an excuse."
"No," he agreed gently. "But it’s a starting point."
The door chid, and Lieutenant Commander Reynolds stepped inside, looking like he’d aged a decade in the past hour. He removed his cap, revealing salt-and-pepper hair that stuck up at odd angles.
"I’m sorry to interrupt," he said, his voice hoarse. "But I have official business."
The mood in the room shifted. Raven’s chair ca down to all four legs with a soft thump, and Pierre felt his muscles tense despite himself.
Reynolds cleared his throat, pulling a folded docunt from his jacket. "By the authority vested in as Acting Commander of the 182nd Naval Branch, I hereby grant full pardons to Pierre..." He paused, glancing at Pierre. "I’m afraid I don’t have your full na for the record."
"Just Pierre" Pierre kept his voice steady, though internally he winced at how ridiculous that sounded.
"Just Pierre and his associate, for any and all actions taken during the incident involving forr Captain Josiah Hardy. The official record will show that you acted to prevent a mutinous officer from carrying out unlawful executions of civilians."
He set the paper on the table, and Pierre saw the official Navy seal pressed into the wax.
"Thank you," Pierre said, aning it.
Reynolds nodded, but didn’t move to leave. Instead, he looked uncomfortable, shifting his weight from foot to foot.
Raven’s eyes sharpened like a cat spotting prey. "You know, Commander, there’s sothing that might help solidify the new administration’s reputation for fairness..."
"Oh no," Pierre muttered under his breath.
"We’re simple travelers, looking to explore the wider world. Nothing illegal, nothing that would reflect poorly on your command. But we could use so official charts. Specifically, the Elysian Sea."
Reynolds blinked. "The restricted navigation charts?"
"The very ones. Think of it as a gesture of goodwill. Proof that the new leadership trusts its citizens with information the old regi kept locked away."
Pierre had to admire her approach. No threats, no demands—just logical reasoning wrapped in political convenience.
Reynolds considered this, his tired eyes moving between them. "Those charts are... valuable. Dangerous in the wrong hands."
"Do we look like the wrong hands?" Raven spread her arms wide.
After a long mont, Reynolds sighed. "I’ll have them delivered to the harbor master’s office within the hour. But if anyone asks, you didn’t get them from ."
"Get what from you?"
After Reynolds left, the conversation resud, but Pierre found himself drifting. The celebratory sounds from outside seed muffled, distant. He closed his eyes, letting the warmth of the restaurant wash over him while he ntally called up his status screen.
[Na: Pierre X. __________]
[Level: 1]
[Core Attributes:]
Strength: D - 363
Endurance: B - 751
Dexterity: D - 201
Agility: F - 187
Spirit: D - 216
The warmth of the room seed to stop an inch from his skin. The sounds of laughter and celebration reached him as if through thick glass. His Endurance was B-tier, his Spirit had skyrocketed, yet a cold, quiet space had opened up in his chest, a vacuum that all the food and gratitude in the world couldn’t seem to fill.
"Big Brother Red Hair? You okay?"
Mika’s voice pulled him back to the present. She was looking at him with concern, her dark eyes wide and worried.
"Just tired," he said, managing a smile for her. "It’s been a long day."
"Mama says tired goes away with good food and good company!" She bead at him, then at the rest of the table. "And we have both!"
He closed the status screen and focused on his soup.
As the al wound down, Mika disappeared into the back room, returning with sothing clutched in her small hands. She approached Pierre shyly, her earlier boldness replaced by nervous energy.
"I made this," she said, holding out a simple cord necklace with a smooth, sea-blue stone in the center. "It’s not fancy or anything, but Mama says the stone cos from the deep water. The kind that’s always calm, even when storms are raging on the surface."
The stone was worn smooth by countless tides, its blue so deep it seed to hold the ocean itself. The cord was simple hemp, the kind fishern used for their nets, but it had been braided with care.
"For good luck," Mika continued, her voice getting smaller. "So you always have a piece of safe harbor with you. No matter where you sail."
Pierre took the necklace, feeling the weight of it—not just the physical weight, but everything it represented. Trust. Hope. The faith of a child who believed that good people would keep their promises.
He slipped it over his head, the simple cord settling against his chest like an anchor.
"I’ll keep it safe," he promised, eting her eyes. "Always."
Reviews
All reviews (0)