Maki was still leaning against the kitchen counter, a mug in his right hand. His eyelids were closed as he sank deep into thought, reflecting on the bizarre encounters he had experienced.
Maki: After I passed out, my memories became blurry. But when my senses returned, I saw myself fighting someone. Her blue eyes were coldly staring at me, yet they held no malicious intent at all. What I could see in them was thrill and loneliness.
I don't know why or how, but when I stared into her eyes, it felt as if she was searching for something—something she herself didn't know.
But that wasn't my problem at the moment.
The problem was that I was actually fighting her.
It was my first time. The very first battle I had ever fought using the rewards the System had given me.
When I saw the Santa Teresa in my hands, I felt a connection I couldn't entirely explain. It was as if I was simply holding another fishing rod. It felt natural—not a conscious response, but an instinctive reaction my body was making.
That was the first fight I ever had in this new place.
And it was life-threatening.
Her sword would slash, thrust, and pierce my body like a dead fish ready to be cooked. I only felt pain for a brief moment whenever those wounds appeared, and then it would instantly vanish. I watched my body heal itself. Every cut she made would close up almost immediately.
But even with this ability, I couldn't fight back against her.
She would dodge, attack my blind spots, and move so quickly that I could barely keep up. Even the Sharingan, which could make things appear slower, wasn't enough. It only barely allowed me to follow her movements.
She was like a ghost.
When she moved, it looked like she was dancing. Her long dark hair flowed through the blood that covered the battlefield.
She was mesmerizing.
But I noticed something.
When she started slowing down, I noticed it immediately because the Sharingan somehow reacted simultaneously.
My only conclusion was that she was deliberately holding back.
But why?
I didn't know.
Yet even after she slowed down, I still couldn't land a hit.
Even though I applied fifty times speed and strength to both my Santa Teresa and my entire body, I still couldn't match her pace at all.
I was weak.
Really weak.
Then I saw an opening.
It happened when she let go of her sword.
I saw it as clearly as day.
Her fingers released the handle one by one.
I didn't know why she let go, but I had to take advantage of that opportunity.
And I did.
It was a pathetic way to win.
I used the Wood ability to bind her from behind. When she tried to break free, I could feel just how unbelievably strong she was.
I had to pour more chakra into the wood.
I could feel my chakra draining much faster than it should have. Every time she struggled, I had no choice but to reinforce the bindings because she would definitely escape otherwise.
Then she suddenly stopped struggling.
And she screamed.
She screamed at the top of her lungs and told me that I had won.
That I should kill her.
Kill her?
I won?
That was absurd.
Humiliating even.
I had seen her holding back, and now she was telling me I had won and should kill her as my prize.
And she kept asking "why."
I didn't get it.
I didn't get it at all.
Then I lost it.
I couldn't help but slap her across the face and slam my forehead against hers. I wanted to know why she was acting like this.
I felt frustrated.
Irritated.
But before I could do anything else, my nose caught that familiar scent once again—a scent I would never forget.
And I obediently fell into slumber.
When I woke up, I remembered the bet we had made.
The first thought that came to my mind was that she wanted me to kill her because she hated me. That she would rather die than comply with the bet.
That's what I thought.
But when I saw her again in the clinic, I couldn't help but ask for her forgiveness.
If she truly intended to kill herself because of that stupid bet, then I wanted her to forgive me.
And if she refused...
All I had to do was take my own life.
It was the law.
I'd rather die peacefully than be mercilessly killed by the sea itself.
It was simply about choosing a less painful end.
But who would've thought she would actually accept me?
I couldn't understand it.
Why did she accept me?
Didn't she hate me?
Didn't she feel disgusted?
But no.
She accepted me as her man.
She even gave me a sealing kiss.
It felt like a vow I would never forget.
I was fully prepared to pay with my life if the worst-case scenario happened, but clearly my assumptions were completely different from what she actually had in mind.
She even introduced me to her daughter—a girl with long white hair and a single braid.
She must've been the one who braided my hair that time.
The first time I heard she was a mother, I assumed she already had a husband and was married.
But remembering how she acted toward me and how much she seemed to care about my reactions, I concluded that she must be a widow, or perhaps her partner had abandoned them.
I didn't pry any further.
I simply accepted it.
Honestly, I wasn't surprised.
Back home, I knew plenty of women who had lost their husbands due to hunting, fighting rebels, or, of course, the sea.
Those widows who were left behind often had no choice but to find someone capable of supporting them.
It was a natural decision, especially in our culture where manpower was always needed.
Actually, I had once planned on completely taking over for my mother's sister.
Her husband never returned after sailing out to sea, and my aunt was left behind.
Even though many men wanted to marry her, my aunt coldly rejected every one of them with bitterness.
Not because she was waiting for her husband to return.
It was because we were secretly making out.
[N/A: Da fuck? Hey, when did this happen?]
That's why Aunt didn't need a man to satisfy her.
There was already me—her nephew.
I could help her.
I wouldn't say we were lovers or anything like that.
We were more like friends with benefits.
Now that I think about it...
I wonder if she's doing fine.
[N/A: Hey, what's with this throwback?... Anyway, I'll look for your aunt and see what she's doing right now.]
AM N. NOT.(っ－＿－)っ♤♤DRAFT♤♤