Chapter 6
Morning on the Black Shores did not arrive with light.
It arrived with permission.
The horizon brightened only after Dino opened his eyes.
He noticed this and closed them again.
The horizon dimmed.
"…Stop that," he said tiredly.
The world obeyed.
When he finally rose, the house was already awake. The door stood open, allowing the salt air to drift inside. Somewhere deeper within the structure, something adjusted itself—not rearranging space, but consideration.
Luna was outside.
She stood barefoot on the sand, black dress unmoving despite the wind. Her scythe rested vertically at her side, its blade dulled to an ordinary curve. The moons hovered faintly above her—most invisible, some merely implied.
She was not training.
She was breathing.
Dino watched for a long moment.
This—this simple act—was rarer than war.
"You're staring again," she said without turning.
"I'm assessing threats," Dino replied.
She smiled. "And?"
"None. Suspicious."
She laughed softly and turned to face him. "You slept."
"I passed out," he corrected. "There's a difference."
"Did you dream?"
He paused.
"I don't remember," he said finally.
That, too, was new.
They walked together along the shoreline. No enemies emerged. No omens screamed. No systems activated. The sand was warm, the sea quiet.
Dino felt… unarmed.
The realization made him uneasy.
"I could end this island if I wanted," he said abruptly.
Luna nodded. "I know."
"I could erase the sea, the sky, the concept of shores."
"I know."
"I could unmake you."
She stopped walking.
Turned.
Met his gaze without fear, without challenge.
"And yet," she said, "you're counting shells."
He looked down.
He was.
Three white. One black. One fractured.
"…Huh."
They resumed walking.
"Does it bother you?" Luna asked.
"That nothing is happening?" he replied.
"That nothing needs to."
He considered.
"In the past," Dino said slowly, "peace was a prelude. A pause before slaughter. I learned to treat it as an enemy."
"And now?"
"Now it's… annoying."
She smiled. "Good."
They returned to the house by midday. A meal waited on the table. Dino did not ask who prepared it.
Luna poured water into two cups. It tasted faintly of moonlight.
"People will come eventually," she said. "Curious ones. Lost ones."
"I won't kill them," Dino said immediately.
"I didn't ask you to."
"…Unless they insist."
She gave him a look.
"…Unless they insist dangerously," he amended.
That satisfied her.
They sat together again, shoulder to shoulder. Not touching. Not avoiding.
Just present.
Outside, the tide shifted.
A child's laughter echoed faintly from somewhere far down the shore—too distant to see, too real to ignore.
Dino stiffened.
Luna placed a hand on his arm.
"Not today," she said.
He exhaled.
"Right. Not today."
The moons dimmed in approval.
For one full day—twenty-four hours measured by nothing at all
no blood was spilled.
No concept was severed.
No universe was threatened.
And in that fragile, impossible stretch of time,
the most dangerous swordsman in existence learned something terrifying.
He didn't miss the killing.
ARC QUOTE I — LIFE & THE PAST
> "Life is not precious because it lasts.
It is precious because it dares to continue
after the world has given it every reason to stop."
End of Chapter 6