The day of the ceremony arrived with perfect clear skies, a gentle breeze from the sea, and the kind of warmth that made you forget winter ever existed.
By late-afternoon, the village square had been transformed.
Long wooden tables lined the open space, covered with checkered cloths and packed with food. Grilled fish, fresh bread, roasted vegetables, fruit preserves, and even a few precious bottles of sake that had been saved for special occasions. Lanterns hung from posts and tree branches, ready to be lit once the sun began to set. Children ran between the tables, laughing and playing, while adults gathered in clusters, talking and drinking.
It wasn't just for Benimaru, there were two other seventeen-year-olds in the village this year: Tomoe, the blacksmith's daughter, and Kaito, a farmer's son. All three of them would go through the Coming of Age ceremony together.
But right now, Benimaru stood off to the side, feeling awkward in the cleanest clothes he owned, which was a simple white shirt and dark trousers that Haruka had practically forced him into that morning.
"You look stiff as a board," a voice said from behind him.
Benimaru turned to see Tomoe walking over, grinning. She was tall for a girl, with broad shoulders from years of working the forge with her father. Her dark hair was pulled back in a messy bun, and she wore a simple green dress that looked equally uncomfortable on her.
"I hate these clothes," Benimaru muttered.
"Join the club." Tomoe tugged at her collar. "My mom threatened to disown me if I showed up in my work clothes. Apparently, 'covered in soot' isn't ceremonial enough."
Benimaru snorted. "At least you're used to heat. I feel like I'm about to sweat through this shirt."
"Then take it off. You do it all the time anyway."
"Haruka would kill me."
Tomoe laughed in a loud, unrestrained way that made a few nearby adults glance over with amused expressions.
Benimaru had known Tomoe his whole life. They'd grown up together, fished together, gotten into trouble together. She was blunt, competitive, and had a punch that could knock grown men flat. If Benimaru had to call anyone in the village his best friend, it'd be her.
"Where's Kaito?" Benimaru asked, scanning the crowd.
"Probably hiding somewhere, panicking." Tomoe rolled her eyes. "You know how he gets."
As if on cue, Kaito appeared from behind one of the tables, looking pale and nervous. He was shorter than both of them, with messy brown hair and a perpetually anxious expression. His hands fidgeted with the hem of his shirt as he approached.
"I-I think I'm gonna be sick," Kaito stammered.
"You're not gonna be sick," Tomoe said flatly.
"But what if I mess up the offering? What if I trip? What if—"
"Kaito." Benimaru put a hand on his shoulder. "It's just walking up, saying a few words, and pouring water into the basin. You've done harder things."
"Like what?"
"Like dealing with Tomoe every day."
"Hey!" Tomoe punched Benimaru's arm, not hard enough to hurt, but enough to make him wince.
Kaito managed a weak smile. "Yeah... yeah, you're right. I can do this."
"Damn right you can," Tomoe said, slapping him on the back hard enough to make him stumble forward.
PANGGG!!
A deep, resonant gong echoed through the square, silencing the chatter. Everyone turned toward the center, where a raised wooden platform had been set up.
Standing on the platform was Chief Harukin, the village elder.
He was an old man, really old, probably in his late seventies, with a long white beard that reached his chest and a bald head that gleamed in the sunlight. He wore traditional robes, faded and patched but well-maintained, and leaned heavily on a gnarled wooden staff.
Despite his age, his voice was strong and clear as he spoke.
"People of our village!" Chief Harukin called out, his staff thumping against the platform. "Today, we gather to honor tradition. To recognize those who have come of age. To welcome them not as children, but as adults, as full members of our community."
The crowd murmured in agreement, nodding respectfully.
Benimaru felt his stomach twist slightly. He wasn't nervous, exactly, but he could feel the weight of everyone's gaze on him.
"Tomoe, daughter of Goro the blacksmith. Kaito, son of Jirou the farmer. And Benimaru, son of Daichi the fisherman." Chief Harukin's gaze swept over the three of them. "Step forward."
The three of them exchanged glances, then walked toward the platform together.
Tomoe walked with confidence, her head held high. Kaito looked like he was walking to his execution. Benimaru kept his expression neutral, trying not to think about how many people were watching.
They climbed onto the platform and stood in a line facing the crowd.
Chief Harukin turned to face them, his wrinkled face softening into a faint smile.
"Seventeen years," he said quietly, just loud enough for them to hear. "Seventeen years you've lived in this village. You've learned our ways. You've worked our fields and fished our seas. You've laughed with us, cried with us, and grown alongside us."
He paused, his eyes moving from one face to the next.
"But today, you are no longer children. Today, you take your place as adults. And with that comes responsibility."
He gestured toward a small stone basin filled with seawater that sat at the edge of the platform.
"The sea gives us life," Chief Harukin said, his voice rising so the crowd could hear. "It feeds us. It sustains us. But it also demands respect. We do not take from it without giving back."
He handed his staff to an attendant and picked up a wooden ladle, scooping water from the basin.
"Tomoe. Step forward."
Tomoe did, standing tall and steady.
Chief Harukin held the ladle out to her. "Pour this water back into the sea, and with it, offer your gratitude. Speak your promise to this village."
Tomoe took the ladle, walked to the edge of the platform where a channel had been dug leading toward the shore, and poured the water slowly.
"I promise to work hard," she said loudly. "To serve this village with my strength. To honor my family and the people who raised me."
The crowd clapped and cheered. Tomoe's father, Goro, a massive, bear-like man with arms like tree trunks, whistled loudly, grinning with pride.
Tomoe stepped back, looking relieved.
"Kaito...Step forward."
Kaito's hands trembled as he took the ladle, but he managed to walk to the edge without tripping. He poured the water carefully, his voice quiet but sincere. "I promise to... to do my best. To help my family and... and everyone here. To be someone you can rely on."
The crowd clapped warmly. Kaito's mother dabbed at her eyes with a handkerchief, and his father gave him an encouraging nod.
Kaito practically fled back to his spot, exhaling in relief.
"Benimaru. Step forward."
Benimaru took the ladle from Chief Harukin and walked to the edge of the platform.
He stared down at the water in the ladle, the sunlight reflecting off its surface.
'A promise to the village,' he thought. 'To the people who've taken care of me my whole life.'
He poured the water slowly, watching it trickle down the channel toward the sea.
"I promise," Benimaru said, his voice steady, "to protect this village and live for this village until death. To stand by the people here and to make sure that the life we've built together... stays safe."
There was a beat of silence.
Then the crowd erupted into applause.
Benimaru stepped back, his heart pounding slightly.
Chief Harukin smiled and thumped his staff against the platform again.
"Then it is done! Tomoe, Kaito, Benimaru...you are now recognized as adults of this village. May you live with honor, strength, and wisdom!"
The crowd cheered louder, and someone in the back started playing a lively tune on a fiddle. Within moments, the atmosphere shifted from solemn to celebratory.
Tables were swarmed as people grabbed plates and loaded them with food. Sake bottles were uncorked and passed around freely. The fiddle player was joined by a drummer and a flute, and soon music filled the square.
Benimaru was immediately pulled into a whirlwind of congratulations.
Old Man Hideo clapped him on the back so hard he nearly choked. "About damn time you became a man, boy! Now you can finally drink with the rest of us!"
"He's been sneaking sips since he was fifteen," someone else called out, laughing.
"Only when you weren't looking!" Benimaru shot back, grinning.
A group of middle-aged fishermen surrounded him, shoving a cup of sake into his hand.
"To Benimaru!" one of them shouted. "May your nets always be full and your boats never sink!"
"To Benimaru!" the others echoed, raising their cups.
Benimaru laughed and downed the sake in one go, wincing slightly at the burn. The fishermen cheered and immediately refilled his cup.
Across the square, Tomoe was arm-wrestling her father, and winning, judging by the shocked expressions of the onlookers. Goro was laughing even as his arm was slammed down onto the table.
"That's my girl!" he roared, standing up and lifting her off the ground in a bear hug.
Kaito, meanwhile, was sitting at a table with his family, looking much more relaxed now that the ceremony was over. His younger siblings were pestering him with questions, and he answered them patiently with a small smile on his face.
Benimaru felt a tug on his sleeve and looked down to see Yuki, holding a lopsided flower crown made of wildflowers and sea grass.
"I made this for you!" she said proudly, holding it up.
Benimaru crouched down so she could place it on his head. It sat crookedly, petals already starting to droop, but he didn't care.
"It's perfect," he said seriously.
Yuki beamed. "You look like a king!"
"A king, huh?" Benimaru ruffled her hair. "Then I decree that you get an extra piece of cake."
"Really?!"
"Really."
Yuki squealed and ran off toward the dessert table.
Haruka appeared beside him, shaking her head fondly. "You're spoiling her."
"It's a special day," Benimaru said with a shrug.
"For you, not her."
"She helped, didn't she? That counts."
Haruka smiled and kissed his forehead. "I'm proud of you, Beni."
Something tight squeezed in Benimaru's chest. "Thanks, Mom."
She squeezed his shoulder, then moved off to help distribute food.
Daichi lumbered over, a cup of sake in each hand. He shoved one into Benimaru's free hand.
"Drink up, son! You're a man now, no more of that 'one cup only' nonsense!"
"Pretty sure Mom said—"
"Your mother's not here right now," Daichi said with a conspiratorial grin. "What she doesn't know won't hurt her."
Benimaru laughed and clinked his cup against his father's. They drank together, and Daichi clapped him on the back.
"You did good up there," Daichi said, his tone more serious now. "That promise you made... I'm proud of you, Beni. Really proud."
Benimaru looked down at his cup, feeling that warmth in his chest again.
"Thanks, Dad."
. . . . .
The celebration was still going strong as the night sky settled in fully. The lanterns swayed gently in the breeze, casting dancing shadows across the square. Unlike most festivals that wound down early, tonight felt different, special enough that even families with young children were still there, the little ones running around with seemingly endless energy or dozing on their parents' laps. The fishermen were still drinking sake and laughing with one another, couples danced slowly to the fiddler's lazy melody, and small groups huddled around tables with half-empty bottles of sake.
Benimaru sat alone on the edge of a low stone wall that bordered the square, with a cup of sake dangling loosely from his hand. The flower crown Yuki had made him sat beside him now, slightly crushed from when he'd leaned against something earlier.
He watched the village below as he took tiny sips of his drink, which was starting to taste bitter in his mouth now. 'Life couldn't be better right now,' he thought, taking another slow sip. 'Even though I know what's going to happen in a few years, I don't intend on stopping it. I'm not going to get myself caught up in things like that.'
All he wanted was to live a peaceful, normal life. Maybe settle down, start a family. The kind of life where the biggest worry was what to make for dinner, not which world-ending threat was coming next.
He stared up at the stars scattered across the night sky. 'Even if I were to die right now, he thought, taking another deep sip of his sake, I don't think I'd mind it.'
The thought should have scared him, but instead it brought a strange sense of calm. He'd already died once before, after all.
His head was pleasantly fuzzy from the alcohol, and his body felt loose and relaxed. The ceremony was over. He was officially an adult now. Nothing had really changed, but somehow everything felt...different now.
He didn't notice Tomoe approaching until she was right beside him.
"Sulking alone?" she asked, her voice teasing. "That's not very like you."
Benimaru glanced at her. She'd ditched the uncomfortable dress at some point and was back in her usual clothes, simple trousers and a loose shirt, much more her. Her hair had come loose from its bun and hung around her shoulders.
"I'm not sulking," Benimaru said. "Just watching."
"Sure..whatever you say bud." Tomoe sat down beside him on the wall, close enough that their shoulders almost touched. "Big day, huh?"
"Yeah."
"You did good up there. That promise you made, it was... nice."
Benimaru raised an eyebrow. "Nice?"
"Shut up, you know what I mean." She shoved his shoulder lightly, grinning.
They sat in comfortable silence for a moment, watching an elderly couple dance slowly near the center of the square.
Then Tomoe shifted, reaching into her pocket.
"Hey," she said, her voice quieter now. "Since it's your birthday... I got you something."
Benimaru looked at her in surprise. "You didn't have to—"
"I know." She pulled out something small and carefully unfolded it in her palm.
It was an origami swan, folded from white paper. The creases were precise, and delicate, which were completely the opposite of Tomoe's usual rough-and-tumble personality.
"I made it," she said, not quite meeting his eyes. "Took me, like, ten tries to get it right. Turns out I'm terrible at this stuff."
Benimaru stared at the tiny paper bird, something warm and unfamiliar stirring in his chest.
"It's..." He didn't know what to say.
"It means hope," Tomoe said softly, finally looking at him. "And... love. At least, that's what my mom told me when I asked."
She held it out to him.
Benimaru took it carefully, cradling it in his palm like it might fall apart if he breathed too hard.
"Tomoe, I—" He chuckled, shaking his head. "I didn't know we were giving gifts. I don't have anything for you."
"Good," Tomoe said quickly, then paused. A small, nervous smile tugged at her lips. "Actually..."
She stood up and held out her hand.
"Dance with me."
Benimaru blinked. "What?"
"You heard me." Her smile widened, though there was something uncertain in her eyes. "Come on. One dance. That'll be your gift to me."
Benimaru looked down at her outstretched hand, then back up at her face.
She was watching him carefully, like she was waiting for something.
He set down his cup and slipped the origami swan carefully into his pocket. Then he took her hand.
"Fine," he said, standing. "But I'm warning you...I'm a terrible dancer."
"Lucky for you, so am I."
They moved toward the center of the square where a few other couples were still swaying slowly to the fiddler's melody. It wasn't anything formal, just the kind of simple, casual dancing that happened at village festivals.
Tomoe placed one hand on his shoulder. Benimaru hesitated, then rested his hand lightly on her waist.
They started moving awkwardly at first, with neither of them really sure what they were doing. Tomoe stepped on his foot once, and Benimaru nearly tripped over his own feet trying to compensate.
"Told you I was bad at this," Benimaru muttered.
"Shut up and keep going," Tomoe said, but she was smiling.
Gradually, they found a rhythm. The music drifted around them, and the rest of the square seemed to fade into the background.
Benimaru realized, suddenly, how close they were. Close enough that he could see the faint dusting of freckles across her nose. Close enough to notice that her eyes weren't just brown, they had flecks of gold in them, catching the lantern light.
"Beni," Tomoe said quietly.
"Yeah?"
She hesitated, her jaw working like she was trying to find the right words.
Then, all at once, she just said it.
"I like you."
Benimaru's brain stuttered to a halt.
"I've liked you for a while now," Tomoe continued, her voice steady but her cheeks flushing slightly. "I just... I never knew how to say it. And I figured, tonight seemed like a good time. Since it's your birthday and all."
She looked up at him, her expression somewhere between nervous and not sure.
"So... yeah. That's my real gift, I guess. Me being honest."
Benimaru stared at her, his heart suddenly pounding in his chest.
'She likes me.'
'Tomoe likes me.'
He didn't know why that surprised him so much. Maybe because he'd never really thought about it before. She was just... Tomoe. His friend. The girl he'd grown up with.
But now, looking at her like this, standing so close, her hand warm on his shoulder, her eyes searching his face—
"I..." Benimaru swallowed. "I feel the same way."
Tomoe's eyes widened. "You do?"
"Yeah." He nodded slowly, the words coming easier now. "I do. I just... never said anything because I didn't think you'd—"
"Idiot," Tomoe said, but her smile was brighter than he'd ever seen it.
They stopped moving, standing still in the middle of the square.
The music played on around them, but Benimaru didn't hear it anymore.
Tomoe leaned in slightly, her eyes flicking down to his lips.
Benimaru's breath caught.
He started to lean in too, his eyes beginning to close—
BANG.
The gunshot cracked through the night like thunder.
Benimaru felt Tomoe's hand tighten on his shoulder for just a split second.
Then she collapsed.
Her weight pulled him forward, and he stumbled, still holding her hands, his eyes squeezed shut in confusion.
'What—?'
He opened his eyes.
And he found Tomoe was on the ground with her eyes wide open, staring up at nothing as it rolled back slightly. Blood pooled out from her head and all around her, soaking into the dirt.
"Whaa..." Benimaru's voice came out quiet, strangled.
His heart slammed against his ribs, each beat like a hammer.
'No.'
'No, this isn't—'
'This can't—'
He was still holding her hands.
They were warm.
They were still warm.
But she wasn't moving.
She wasn't breathing.
"Tomoe?" His voice cracked. "Tomoe, come on—"
Her eyes stared past him, lifeless.
The origami swan slipped from his pocket and landed in the blood beside her.
Then somewhere behind him, someone screamed.
"PIRATES! PIRATES ARE ATTACKING!"
. . . . .
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