Sailing (2)

The sea was calmer than the day before. The wind came from the southeast, steadily pushing the sails and keeping the ship moving at a pace where they could just hear the bow slicing through the water.

The white waxwood hull rose and fell gently with the swells. The deck, soaked by seawater last night, had already dried, leaving behind faint streaks of salt.

Damian, Barlow, and Mila sat side by side, facing the stern.

Roy stood before them.

The sea wind had blown his hair into a complete mess. He raised a hand to smooth it down, failed, and simply gave up. Rolling his sleeves above his forearms, he flexed his fingers.

"In that dream, aside from swordsmanship and Fire Release, that man also showed me these things."

He took a deep breath and raised both hands before his chest.

"Rat."

"Ox."

"Tiger."

"Rabbit."

"Dragon."

"Snake."

"Horse."

"Goat."

"Monkey."

"Rooster."

"Dog."

"Boar."

The twelve seals flowed past his hands one after another, each one distinct and clear.

"These hand gestures are called 'seals.'" Roy lowered his hands. "That man showed me that every seal has a name. Rat, Ox, Tiger, Rabbit, Dragon, Snake, Horse, Goat, Monkey, Rooster, Dog, Boar. There are twelve in all. Different combinations of seals can unleash different techniques."

He turned sideways to face the sea.

"Chakra and seals are the prerequisites for unleashing the secret technique known as Fire Release."

His hands began moving before his chest.

Rat—Tiger—Dog—Ox—Rabbit—Tiger.

Then he took a deep breath. Chakra rose from his abdomen, passed through his chest, gathered in his throat, and his lips puckered.

Six flames flew from his mouth.

They were no longer the hazy-edged sparks from his first attempt. This time, they were real, burning flames with definite shape.

Six fireballs shot from between his lips, each the size of a fist, their color somewhere between orange-red and dark crimson, their cores glowing white-hot.

They scattered through the air, each following a different path. Two went left, two went right, and two flew straight ahead, drawing six faint smoky trails across the sea.

After flying seven or eight paces, the fireballs began to lose their shape.

Their sharp edges blurred, their orange-red color faded to dark crimson, and then, almost at the same instant, all six fireballs shattered into a shower of tiny sparks in the sea wind. The sparks fell onto the water and went out with sharp hisses.

The sea breeze blew that small wave of heat back onto the deck, carrying a scorched smell.

"Your seal speed still isn't fast enough," Mila said from behind him.

Barlow closed his ledger. "You need to practice that ability more. There are plenty of people at sea who use firearms, but they've never seen anyone breathe fire from their mouth."

He watched the spot where the last few sparks vanished on the sea. "That's a major information advantage. An information advantage means initiative, and initiative means better odds of winning."

Damian had been staring at the place where the fireballs disappeared. Then he turned back to look at Roy.

"The fire came out of your body?"

"Yes."

"Did it burn you?"

Roy froze for a moment. "...No."

"What about your throat?"

"That didn't burn either. Chakra heats up as it passes through, but it won't burn me."

Damian nodded, as though confirming something very important.

Roy lowered his hands and flexed the fingers that had grown slightly stiff from forming seals continuously.

"After my eyes awakened, I received more information." He looked at the three of them. "What that man showed me in the dream wasn't just imagery. Some things only truly made sense after my eyes awakened."

"Such as?" Barlow asked.

"The swordsmanship we practice is called Uchiha Style Swordsmanship. It is a combat art passed down through generations of the Uchiha Clan. Every angle of that man's swings, every rhythm of his footwork, every moment he changed hands—all of it was part of that swordsmanship."

He paused.

"The secret technique of Fire Release has another name."

"What is it?"

"Ninjutsu."

The deck fell quiet for a beat. The sea wind gently filled the sails, and canvas scraped faintly against the mast with a creak.

"Ninjutsu," Barlow repeated.

"Two other types stand alongside it: Taijutsu and Genjutsu."

Roy raised a hand and tapped beneath his eye.

"And Genjutsu relies on the Sharingan."

He closed his eyes.

Then opened them.

His eyes had turned blood-red, and two black Tomoe slowly emerged on his irises. They were clearer under the sunlight than they had been in the White Wax Forest, blacker in their blackness and redder in their red, like two drops of ink fallen into blood.

"The Sharingan has many functions." Roy's voice lowered. "One Tomoe: the Insight Eye. It sees through movements, catches trajectories, and predicts the next step. That day at Gravel Beach, when One-Eyed Dragon swung his blade, I saw the muscles on the inside of his wrist contract before the blade moved. Before he even brought it down, I already knew where he would strike."

The Tomoe in his eyes turned faintly.

"Two Tomoe: the Copying Eye. It doesn't just see—it remembers. An enemy's moves, the movements of Taijutsu, the seals of Ninjutsu: see them once, and they are carved into the eyes. If the body can keep up, they can be reproduced exactly."

His gaze moved from Damian to Barlow, then to Mila.

"Above that are Three-Tomoe Sharingan: the Hypnotic Eye. That man told me that the moment you meet an enemy's gaze, his eyes become your entrance. You can make him see things that do not exist, make him obey your commands, make him spend an entire lifetime in Genjutsu without realizing it."

His fingers unconsciously pressed against the lower edge of his eye socket.

"There are some abilities I haven't tested yet. I don't know when I'll be able to use them, how I'll use them, or to what extent."

He lowered his hand from his eye. "But I can feel it. These are only the tip of the iceberg of Uchiha power."

Barlow nodded once.

"I have a feeling too. Uchiha power belongs to us alone."

He paused.

"And it still isn't complete."

The sea wind carried part of his words away, but what remained fell onto the deck, and everyone heard it.

Mila took the dagger from her lap. After rewrapping the hemp cord around its sheath, it felt exactly the same in her hand as before. Her thumb rubbed over the cord's texture.

"The Sharingan, swordsmanship, Ninjutsu. That man taught us so much, yet he never taught us why."

"Why what?" Roy asked.

"Why did the Uchiha end up with only a single Tomoe? Why did that man seal his power inside the Tomoe? Why us?"

No one answered.

Damian rose from beside the mast and walked to the rail. Resting his elbows on it, he looked out at the sea.

"No matter why." He did not turn around. "The power is in our hands. The swordsmanship is in our hands. The Sharingan is in our hands. Ninjutsu is in our hands. How we use them is our business."

Barlow opened his ledger. His finger paused on a certain page before he closed it again.

"Roy."

"Yeah?"

"Those seals you mentioned. The twelve of them. Everyone has to learn them."

The sea wind poured in over the side, making the sails snap loudly.

At the top of the mast, the flag was yanked open by the wind.

It was a newly replaced flag, made from coarse cloth in White Wax Town and sewn by Mila over the course of an entire day.

The cloth crackled in the sea wind. The pattern was sometimes pulled flat by the gusts and sometimes folded over by them, but no matter how it twisted, its background and design remained perfectly clear.

A fan, red above and white below.

It was exactly like the one Roy had drawn, exactly like the engraving on the back of the Tomoe, its edges worn smooth by countless years.

The flag billowed beneath the sunlight of the East Blue.

The white waxwood ship carried four people toward Orange Town.