Chapter 2
Morning sunlight melted like butter across the sea. Lorne leaned over the boat's edge, eyes locked on the dark shadows darting below. His right arm stayed in harpoon form, trembling slightly.
"Left side, five meters... now!" Rinne shouted.
Lorne thrust his arm forward. The metal harpoon pierced the water—but only skewered a clump of seaweed.
The boat rocked violently from the recoil. Rinne yelped, wrapping her tail around the mast to stay aboard.
She wore only his old white shirt today—loose and baggy, the only spare clothes they had. Every big movement made the cloth shift, hinting at the full curves beneath her chest wrap. In the golden light, it was distracting as hell.
"Missed again..." Lorne released the ability, forcing his gaze away from her.
Rinne leaned in innocently to check his arm, her citrus-scented hair brushing his nose. As she bent forward, the collar dipped—revealing delicate collarbone and the tempting swell of cleavage.
"Captain? You're bleeding from your nose!"
"S-sun's too bright!" Lorne wiped frantically with his sleeve, smearing rusty blood everywhere. Ever since eating that cursed Devil Fruit, using the power always left him like this.
Rinne tilted her head, cat ears twitching in the breeze. Her torn kimono sash had been replaced by a red cord tied in a bow at her waist, accentuating the roundness of her hips.
"Captain's spacing out again~" She flicked her tail tip across his earlobe—cool and damp. He jolted.
"Look! Dolphins over there!"
Lorne followed her finger—nothing but calm water. When he turned back, she was grinning mischievously, popping the last piece of dried fish into her mouth. Sunlight filtered through the thin shirt, outlining her slender figure: flat stomach rising cutely as she swallowed, a few salt crystals clinging to the wrap's edge.
"You little trickster..." Lorne ruffled her hair in exasperation. His fingers accidentally brushed the base of her fluffy cat ear.
Rinne let out a soft "grrrl..." and melted against his shoulder, tail instinctively coiling around his wrist.
"Mm... not there..." Her voice turned breathy, cheeks flushing pink.
Lorne realized he'd hit a Mink sensitive spot and yanked his hand back fast.
By sunset, they feasted on fresh tuna. Rinne insisted on slicing sashimi samurai-style—ending up with fish scattered everywhere on the deck.
As she knelt to clean up, Lorne caught a glimpse down the back of her shirt: smooth skin marked by faint pink whip scars. Most striking was the black tattoo on her right shoulder—a broken sun symbol.
"What's that?"
"From my old master." She quickly pulled the fabric up, smile turning forced. "Rinne doesn't want to talk about it."
That night, they took turns on watch. During Lorne's late shift, he found Rinne curled at the stern, fast asleep.
Moonlight spilled over her. She'd undone her daytime bun; silver-white hair fanned across the deck like seaweed.
In her sleep, she rolled—loosening the chest wrap. Half a soft, rounded breast rose and fell with each breath.
Lorne quietly draped his coat over her. In her dreams, she murmured:
"Captain... don't leave me..."