Harvest

"Where are their bodies? And the boat?" Barlow pressed.

"Taken care of." Roy raised the back of his hand and wiped at the dried blood on his face.

"I punched holes in the bottom of the boat. It sank half a mile out from Shingle Beach. I threw all the bodies into the sea; the tide will carry them away. I searched through all their belongings."

Mila had already gone around behind Roy, dragged over the sack, untied its knot, and began taking out its contents one by one.

Three muskets, all single-shot muzzle-loaders. Their barrels were covered in rust, and only one still had a reasonably responsive trigger.

Two short knives, each a finger-width broader than theirs. The steel was nothing special.

A small pouch of Beli, probably twenty to thirty thousand.

Several bottles of gunpowder and a small bag of shot. The powder had gotten damp, so there was no telling whether it still worked.

A palm-sized compass. There was a crack across its glass face, but the needle still turned.

A crumpled nautical chart, marked with several routes in messy handwriting.

There were also several pieces of hard, dried meat and a bag of moldy bread. Mila tossed the food aside.

"That's it?"

"That's it."

"They escaped from under the guns of a warship. It's not bad that they had this much left."

Barlow crouched down and inspected the barrels of the muskets. Then he took the compass and chart from Mila's hands and weighed the money pouch.

"Shingle Beach is closest to our Household."

"I cleaned everything up. It won't bring trouble to the Household."

Barlow glanced at him, then reached out and patted Roy on the shoulder.

"I'll hold on to these for now. The chart, compass, and muskets can't be seen by anyone." He paused. "Hide the Beli and spend it in small amounts."

Mila ignored the loot. She had been staring at Roy's eyes since earlier.

"What happened to your eyes? How do they feel?"

Roy lowered his head and looked at his hands.

Brown bloodstains that he had failed to wash away still remained in the gaps between the fingers of the hand that held the knife.

Slowly, he curled his fingers into a fist, then opened them again.

"When I killed the first man," he said. "The moment the knife went in, it felt like something in my eyes cracked open."

He raised a hand and tapped above his eye socket.

"It was like there had been a membrane inside, blocking the way since I was born. It started thinning after that dream that night. Then, when I drove the knife in today, it tore apart completely."

"And then?"

"Then that voice came out." Roy's voice grew low. "Go on. Let them have a good look at the power of the Uchiha."

"What can you see after awakening your eyes?"

Roy raised his head.

His gaze first landed on Barlow, then moved to Mila, and finally turned toward the ash forest behind the house, now swallowed entirely by darkness.

"Everything."

"What do you mean, everything?"

"Movements," Roy said. "Every detail of each of your movements. When you patted my shoulder just now, your fingers opened first, then curled inward. When Mila was crouching, her weight was on the ball of her left foot, while her right heel was raised. She could jump backward at any moment. The leaves in the forest are moving. Every single one is moving in a different direction, and I can see them all clearly."

He paused.

"And the next move. The instant your shoulder shifts, I know where your hand will go next. Muscles move before conscious thought. I can see the muscles."

Barlow fell silent for several seconds, then drew his short knife and pointed its tip at the ground.

"What am I about to do?"

Roy watched his shoulders.

"Your right foot will push off the ground, and the knife will sweep upward. The target is..."

Barlow's knife stopped in midair. His right foot had indeed pushed off, and his knife had indeed swept upward, but it halted halfway through.

"My wrist shifted left."

"You were going to shift right. I saw the muscle on the inside of your forearm contract. That was the motion for moving right. You changed it at the last second."

Barlow sheathed his knife.

His expression did not change, but the motion of sheathing the blade was half a beat slower than usual.

"These eyes can see muscle movement, predict actions, and track trajectories."

"Did you awaken your eyes because you killed someone?" Mila suddenly asked.

Roy thought for a moment. "Maybe. The knife went in, blood splashed out, and my eyes cracked open."

Mila turned to Barlow. "Then why didn't you?"

Barlow did not answer immediately.

He leaned against the wall with his arms folded. His gaze shifted away from Roy's eyes and fell upon the hand with which he held a knife.

"So killing isn't the condition. Or it isn't the only condition."

Roy looked up blankly. "What are you talking about?"

Barlow and Mila exchanged a look. It was so brief that it ended before Roy could catch its meaning.

"Nothing," Barlow said.

"You just..."

"Third Brother," Mila interrupted him. "Other than that, is there anything else?"

Roy withdrew his gaze from Barlow, lowered his head, and thought for a while longer.

"I was crouching behind the reef when I heard them say they were going to kill everyone on the island, keep the women, loot the place, and leave."

"Then I thought of Dad and Eldest Brother. I thought of you two."

His fingers clenched.

"When I thought that pirates might kill you, I got hotheaded and rushed out."

Mila gave a derisive snort when she heard him say that pirates might kill her.

"A massive emotional surge," Barlow said.

Mila and Roy both looked at him.

"Killing isn't the condition. Emotion is. When you rushed out, you weren't thinking about killing them. You were thinking that we might die."

Barlow spoke slowly, as though thinking through it as he went. "It was the same on that night a year ago. All four of us had the same dream, but Roy's reaction was the strongest, because he was the first to touch the Tomoe and because his emotions were the most intense at the time."

He looked into Roy's eyes.

"What those eyes need isn't killing. They need a moment sparked by emotion, like this time, when you sincerely wanted to protect something at any cost."

After hearing that, Mila tilted her head.

"You can awaken your eyes to protect your family? So the power of the Uchiha is actually the power of love."

The corner of Barlow's mouth curved upward. He stretched out an arm and put it around Mila's shoulders.

"Maybe it really is. Otherwise, why would it choose us? Four people, one dad. Poor as dirt, living on some miserable island that can't even be found on a map. No background, no support, no way out. All we have left is our lives. Other than wanting to protect something, what else do we have?"

Mila shot him a fierce glare, but she did not pull away from his embrace.