Judgment vows (first): Chained by the Unseen

rocked softly by the ship's motion, wooden planks creaking with the sides of some monstrous creature pushing in sleep. Sea-salt scent, varnish scent, and cotton warm from the sun filled out the stern space–tiny, barely room enough for a bed, a brass-fringed porthole, and a trunk to hold gear. An oversized naval coat draped from a hook beside the door, its shadows falling long across the gold-brightened wash of oil-lamp light.

Hikari sat on the edge of the bunk, elbows resting on knees, white hair falling forward across his eyes. His fingers ran through the prayer beads around his neck—still warm with the faint memory of life, still intact, but bereft of the divine thrum they once had carried.

He glared at them for a long time.

"...Lyra," he whispered.

The reply came almost at once, sliding into his mind like silk and laughter.

"Yes, darling?~"

Her voice was soft tonight. Not the dramatic panache, not her usual celestial capriciousness. It was. soft. There was something almost matronly in it, even as it lilted with her usual playfulness.

He did not lift his head.

"Do you think... I might be able to regain my power?"

There was a lonh silence.

Then, nearly too cheerfully, she spoke.

"Hmm. That's dependent. On which power you're referring to."

He shut his eyes. "The judgment. The beads. And What I was."

"Ah... Of course... that one," she replied, voice dripping with false comprehension. "Well, darling… if it were simple, I would've already sent you racing into the stars like a reborn god with burning chains and vengeance in both hands."

He emitted a humorless laugh. "So… its no then."

"Didn't say that," Lyra purred, teasing. "Just said it's not easy."

Silence stretched out again between them. The rocking of the ship was calming, but his heart wasn't.

"...So... the only way is still beating Hakari," he whispered, his voice little more than a breath. "He has the Immortal Mask. He has her power now. Unless."

"Unless," Lyra repeated, "you go for the queen herself."

He glared upwards.

"...Hollow Queen?"

"Oh yes... The chief lady. Miss Curse Incarnate herself."

Her voice whirled with amusement, as if to say her name was the punchline of an ancient joke.

"If somehow you do manage to defeat her, you might well unravel everything—her magic, her power, her hold on your world. In theory, that could even break the pact she made with Hakari. Could even let you reclaim what she stole."

Hikari did not respond.

"Buuuut—" she sang, stretching the word out in that musical way she did when she was preparing to disappoint him, "—it's also probably impossible~ She's not just powerful, Hikari. She's ancient. She lives in layers. In places your world hasn't had names for in centuries. But still, she is younger than me."

Another pause passed.

"...And right now, darling. you're just… well… im not mocking..."

"A normal person," he finished for her, voice low.

"No magic. No divine strength. Just… me! Your save point!" she said excitedly.

He looked down at his hands—bruised, scarred, no longer pounding with divine judgment. Just flesh.

"...If you weren't bound to me, I'd already be dead."

"Oh for stoop~" Lyra said, almost scoffing, but still wrapped in love. "That's not so true. You're clever. Stubborn. Still too reckless for your own good. You might have managed to hold on."

He did not smile.

"I couldn't fight a spirit hound now," he breathed. "Much less a goddess of shadows and a brother who's been blessed with power I can't even touch."

There was quiet for a very long time.

Then—Lyra laughed gently.

Not mercilessly. Not taunting. It was warm. Comforting.

"This is what Hakari must've felt when you were chosen, Hikari."

He froze.

His breath caught in his throat.

Lyra's tone didn't change—still gentle, still singing—but the words carried more weight.

"Seeing you receive the beads. Seeing the divine light choose you. As he stood on the sidelines. Incognito. Unnoticed. Forgotten. All the power he had gained, all the scars he had built up. none of them mattered when judgment set their sights on you. Just. An normal person~ an trained warrior of course but no special power."

She had not meant to wound him. But it hurt anyway.

He tightened his grip around the beads.

"I... I never wanted them," he whispered.

"I know."

"I would have given them to him if I could."

"I know that too."

His gaze flew suddenly wide. He ducked his head again, shoulders shuddering barely at all.

"I still would," he breathed. "If it would make him happy again. If it would make him not have to turn into... that."

The silence that followed wasn't empty.

It was Lyra's silence—the silence that said a thousand words without saying anything. The silence that held on to him without speaking.

Then, softly.

"He didn't want the beads, Hikari."

Hikari looked up.

"He wanted to be noticed."

The words were sharper than any blade.

He swallowed hard, his throat burning.

"And now he's the only one left who can't be forgotten," he snarled.

"Whilst you're the one who's been," Lyra finished.

"Well even he still want something he call his own power~" She whistle out.

They didn't speak for a while after that.

The boat creaked. The waves whispered. The stars in the porthole gradually revolved.

At last, Hikari drew breath, the gasp shuddering, but lighter than before.

"So," he whispered, ruffling his hair from his face, "what now?"

Lyra's tone softened again, bright. Friendly. Hers.

"Now?" she cried happily. "Now we pursue a death goddess, reclaim a stolen heritage, and figure out what 'just Hikari' is, anyway. And maybe we shoulf cut your hair si you really look like boy. But youur face is still look the sameee~"

He really did smile.

Just a little bit.

Then sprawled on the small cot, letting the weight of the day slide from his shoulders as much as it would.

The heritage was gone. The judgment extinguished.

But something different had begunL

And he wasn't alone.

The lantern in Hikari's small cabin flickered softly, casting slow-moving shadows across the ceiling like waves rolling overhead. He lay on his side, knees pulled up slightly, still gripping the frayed edge of the woolen blanket Rorin had given him.

The beads around his neck felt heavier than usual tonight—maybe because he was finally starting to accept how hollow they'd become.

He let the silence stretch a little longer.

Then he heard it.

A tiny sound in the back of his mind.

A soft gasp. A tiny squeal of surprise.

"Oh—!"

He blinked. "Lyra?"

"Ah! Nothing, nothing!" she said quickly, her voice bubbling with barely restrained amusement. "Just. ignore me. Star-thought. Probably a glitch in the celestial matrix."

"You're… laughing."

"No I'm not!"

"You're giggling."

"I would never!"

"You absolutely are."

There was a pause.

Then she laughed again—freely this time, high and fluttery like silver bells chiming in wind.

"Okay okay okay—you got me!" she burst out laughing between. "It's just—you'll laugh. Well, perhaps cry. Or scream. You're so dramatic."

He frowned. "What are you even talking about?"

"I was going to tell you later but." she sang a small tune. "Ugh, I hate withholding juicy details from you. Soooo... fine! Hikari, darling—brace yourself—Rinne is out there."

He stood frozen in place.

The soft roll of the ship, the creak of the wood, the distant pace of the night crew—all receded for an instant.

"...What?" he breathed.

"Rinne," Lyra said again, much too cheerfully. "Still kicking alive. Apparently. And still being cryptic."

"No—no, it can't be," he grumbled. "He used the Blossom Technique. He… he surrendered himself. He gave us time. Hollow Queen burst through the seal—he was supposed to—"

"Die?" she finished.

"Darling, please. That boy had more layers than my astral silk shawl, and I have seventeen."

Hikari came up straight, her heart pounding.

"You're saying he lived through it?"

"I'm saying he's been around," Lyra drawled, extending the word with that sing-song teasing voice. "Flitting here and there. Whispering things. Being very… ghost-adjacent."

He remained silent again.

Not because he didn't believe it.

But because some part of him did.

He remembered that last moment—the red blooms exploding like flames and blood in the air near Rinne, the flash of judgment disintegrating across the field. And his smile. That calm, knowing smile, as if he were already past death, already gazing into something else.

"But if he's alive, why hasn't he…" Hikari started, then froze.

"Written? Called? Whispered in your ear like a brooding uncle?" Lyra playfully teased. "Who knows. Perhaps he's upset with you for not finishing your training."

Hikari massaged his eyes, exasperated. "I don't understand any of this."

"Natural. Time's weird."

He paused, abruptly struck by something. "Wait… how long was I out there? How long did I drift on the sea?"

Lyra released a nervous-sounding laugh.

"...Lyra?"

"Uhhh."

"How long."

"What is long? Define long pleaase?~"

Hikari's tone softened. "Lyra."

"Okay okay okay!" she yelped. "Time in the void is… wibbly. Slippery. It's like trying to measure soup with a fork. Technically I was watching you the whole time, but also technically I could've been distracted by. void squirrels. Or a collapsing star. Or a very dramatic void opera."

"You were daydreaming?"

"Darling, it's hollow. I had to do something or I would have begun talking to the starfish that don't exist."

He groaned and collapsed back against the bed. "Just give me a number."

"Mmm… I don't know. It could be a year. It could be twenty. I think it's more like eight? Perhaps nine. You didn't rot so it's hard to say."

He remained there, numb, staring at the ceiling.

"...Nine years, you sure."

"Approximately!"

"Alone?

"Technically, yes, you had me. But I'm awful company unless you like jokes, cosmic philosophy, and occasionally weeping when I reflect on comets that exploded too young."

He yanked the pillow over his head and moaned.

Lyra softened her voice.

"You're here now, Hikari. That's all that matters. Alive, awake… and with one hell of a plot twist to be unraveled."

He stuck his head out from under the pillow. "If Rinne's alive… everything's different."

"Oh, sweet boy," she breathed. "Everything's already different. You're just catching up late."

He sighed again. Then looked out at the porthole.

Stars.

Real stars this time.

"...Do you think I'll ever find him again?"

Lyra smiled in his mind.

"I think… if he wants to be found, he already left the trail for you."

And somehow… Hikari believed her.

Hikari lay still beneath the leaping shadows of the oil lamp, looking up at the beams above. The wood was weathered, its surface cracked with age and salt, a small knot in the middle about the shape of a deformed eye. The ship creaked gently as it rocked through the darkness.

And his mind came undone.

"...Lyra," he breathed, voice no louder than the creak of the floorboards.

"Mmm?" was her soft, soothing hum within his mind.

"Are you sure... as anything that it's been nine years?"

There was a silence. Then—

"Well… if I might say so…" Her voice sounded suspiciously light. "I don't know!"

Hikari rubbed his eyes with a hand and rolled onto his side. "Of course... You don't."

"Hey now, time don't quite work in linear terms out there in the void! One second I was watching your soul drift like a sad dumpling on the cosmic tide, the next second I was composing an epic about a rebellion of starfish and forgetting how many times you drifted by that very drifting barrel."

He sat up, legs over the edge of the cot, and pulled his hand through his hair. "What did I do in nine years…?"

He looked at the porthole again. Stars sparkled back—unfussed, old, distant.

"And… how many times did I die sailing around like dead fish out there?"

There was a silence at the other end that went on a long while.

"Ehhh…"

He lowered his eyebrows. "Lyra."

"Alright, alright—listen, I don't count that high. Maybe billions. Perhaps trillions. You kind of… um… pop like a salted balloon every now and then. Storms are unforgiving. Orca are worse."

Hikari's mouth opened a little, his face filling with horror. "…Trillions?"

"I'm saying, not all of them were sloppy. Some were actually cute little deaths. Once you froze and did this lovely floating... Hikari-icicle! It sparkled."

He didn't speak. His shoulders dipped a bit.

So much time. So many dead. What was the world without him?

What was Hakari now?

His voice was barely a whisper. "...What could possibly change in nine years..."

"Oh sweetie pie..." Lyra cooed suddenly fainted and he tensed visibly.

"Why so quiet, huh? My sweet little sea-drenched judgment boy? Is my brooding Hikari having an existential crisis? Or maybe emotional crisis?"

He brushed her off.

"Hikari~ You're not going to end up speechless when I've been keeping you company all through the night for nine years straight, are you?"

Her voice turned cunning. "Want to start warbling once more? I still remember that melodramatic ballad I wrote on your thighs."

Hikari let out a cough/groan hybrid of sound.

"...You're a menace."

"Oh, certainly!"

He folded his arms, his head slightly hunched. His brows furrowed.

"...If Rinne... really is alive…"

His voice drifted off.

He didn't need to finish the sentence.

Nine years. Rinne, the one who disappeared in the blossom technique. Who gave his life to stop the Hollow Queen. If he was truly alive, what had he done with all that time?

Was he still fighting?

Was he hiding?

Or worse… was he serving her?

Hikari's stomach turned.

"You're thinking too loud again," Lyra whispered.

"I just.... I just don't get it."

"Sly as always, darling. Sly and cunning. If he was alive, then he's either laying a trap." her tone softened, ".or he's on a path no one but him could ever tread."

Hikari put his elbows on his knees.

"I don't even know what he'd say to me now…"

"Probably something cryptic," Lyra mused. "Then he'd disappear behind a flower petal and show up three to five chapters later to save you from emotional collapse."

Hikari couldn't resist a small, tired smile.

"Yeah... sounds like him."

Silence again fell.

But this time it wasn't dense.

It was burdened with questions. With the bite of time and the susurrus of roads untrod.

And somewhere out over the ocean, under strange stars—Rinne moved. Waiting. Watching. Or perhaps already in motion.

And Hikari… would have to find him.

Hikari went quiet again.

Looking at nothing, the weight of thought dropping onto his chest like leaden anchors. Stillness in his hut shattered only by creaks from old wood and waves very far away, laughing and disappearing again. Sleeplessness. Couldn't breathe so easily even—with the weight of all the years he didn't live pressurizing his shoulders.

But Lyra. had different thoughts.

"Hey, the void's sky isn't really black," she began, clearly ignoring the point that he hadn't invited her to do so. "It's really a deep velvet. Glittery. You'd like it, I think. Right now i see.... There's this one cluster of stars that is precisely like a fish—no, like a fish in a barrel. And next to it is one that looks like a boot kicking a little starfish."

Hikari slowly blinked.

Lyra did not stop.

"And then there's this weird one I saw once that looks like two whales engaging in a dance fight. You know I'm joking, but I'm not. One of them was definitely trying the worm. Or attempting to. Hard to tell with astral fins."

"..."

"Oh! Oh oh oh, and that one! There was this ginormous field of stars that totally looked like an explosion. Like, so dramatic—one of those fiery, movie ka-booms with petals and energy spirals—"

BOOM.

The entire room shook.

A brutal, deafening crack shattered the air, followed by the sound of splintering wood crashing and desperate screams outside. The cabin jerked, lantern swinging wildly on its hook.

Hikari sat upright in bed, eyes wide.

"What the hell was that?!"

Lyra's tone was too darn smug. "Oh~ look at you, swearing so naturally. Your new biology must be influencing your vocabulary. Very masculine. I'm impressed."

"Lyra."

"I tease, I tease," she laughed. "But uh, yeah. That did sound like a cannon. Guess someone doesn't like you. Or maybe they don't like Red."

Hikari was already on his feet, reaching for the coat Rorin had tossed him. His naked feet rooted on the floorboards, firm despite the ship's gentle tilt. He flung open the door.

Shouting ran up the hallway. Boots pounded above deck, heavy.

He climbed the steep stairs in a rush, the stench of smoke and salt already thickening in the air. No sooner did he reach the deck, the chaos erupted before him.

The Scarlet Gale came alive—sailors scrambling to place, unloading pistols, brandishing cutlasses, shouting orders over the thudding sea. The boom of another cannon thudded in the distance, splashing into the sea just short of the starboard side.

And at their head, cutting through the mist—

A ship.

Tattered sails. Black flag. Gold-enameled hull with savage spikes. Its figurehead had been a skeletal mermaid clutching a broken hourglass, half-shrouded in chains.

A pirate ship.

"Stand by to bring fire!" a voice that was all too familiar bellowed across the deck.

Hikari turned around.

Rorin Marlowe stood on the prow, coat flapping in the screaming wind, her red hair blown behind her like a banner, a pistol held firmly in hand, pointed towards the front with a chilling stillness.

"Apears the bastards want a chase," she growled, eyes shrinking into a mean, hard spot.

"Captain!" one of the deck hands bellowed. "They've got harpoons—suckering in to try to reel us over!"

"Let 'em try," Rorin snapped. "I've outrun sea demons twice their size."

Hikari stepped forward, catching her eye.

"Who are they?"

"Privateers turned scum," she said. "The Riftmaws. Raiders from the outer isles. They hunt red-banner ships like mine for glory. Or gold. Or sport."

As another cannonball screamed past, crashing into the waves to the left, Lyra whispered in his head, "Oh dear. Guess bedtime's canceled~"

Hikari gritted his teeth, his heart pounding—but with no fear.

Something deep inside him stirred.

A beat of danger. Of responsibility.

Smoke crept across the deck like low fog, tinted orange by the flash of cannon fire.

Men shouted from the rigging. Metal from scabbards. One of the young sailors struggled powder flasks as the ship tossed him, another exploded short by the port quarter. Hikari stood there, numb in the midst of motion, his bare feet chilled against wet wood.

He looked at his hands—unarmed. Unscarred. Worthless.

"...Wait," he muttered loudly, half-heard amid the commotion. "How do I help this?"

"Hmm?" Lyra's dozy voice brushed lazily against his mind, as if she had been reclining on a chaise longue of starstuff. "Planning to play all heroic on me, my pretty accidental soldier? Hehe i no offense you—"

But Lyra was not allowed the chance to speak much because another took precedence over her—firm, clear, edged with command.

"Hah?" Rorin had turned from the helm, squinting toward him. Hearing him speaking. Her pistol still dangled from one hand, the other gripping the wheel.

"You?" she said, more surprise than ridicule in her voice. "No offense, Hikari—but unless you're hiding a cannon in those sleeves, don't get in the way."

He flinched.

Rorin's words weren't cruel. They weren't dismissive, either. Just. direct. Efficient. A soldier's language.

"If you can't help, stay in your room," she told him, her own voice strained but even. "Last thing I need is another body flying off the tracks."

Hikari's fists clenched.

She wasn't mistaken.

He wasn't Kanshisha anymore.

He did not have his judgment chains. He did not have divine reflexes. He did not have anything but Lyra muttering quips into his head and the chance to be brought back when he surely died like a civilian with honorable intentions.

But still—

"Rorin," he yelled, voice steadier now. "I am not useless."

She did not glance back. Just spun the wheel hard as the ship creaked beneath her.

"Show me, then," she said. "Or stay below."

There was another explosion that rocked the ship.

Rorin yelped orders again, her coat whipping with every whirl, and the men with her walked with practiced precision. Harpoons vomited from the pirate ship on the opposite side of the sea, arcing through the fog like giant spears.

Hikari stood paralyzed, her heart pounding.

And Lyra, always, sugar-sweetly sighed.

"Poor darling. It hurts, doesn't it? Being outside the storm. Seeing others battle the fight you once led."

He clenched his teeth.

"Don't tease me."

"Tease?" she gasped, dramaticly. "I'm merely reciting the emotional reality of your present situation. You're quite poetic at the moment. Wet from rain. Surrounded by war. Oh! If I only had a quill—"

"I'm serious, Lyra..."

"So am I... But also. I'm not~ hehe~"

He turned his face away, the smoke and screams filling the air, fire burning in his mind.

If this was what he was now—a powerless man, a man without memory in the world's eyes—then he'd have to find another way.

There had to be something in this destruction that he could still harness.

But for now. He really cant do anything.

He hate this. He is just being nameless judge with no power to help.