Chapter 11 – Heat Beneath the Surface

The morning after Red Jack's capture broke with a golden hush.

The sky was washed in pastel hues as Kenji and Author strolled along the cobblestone streets. The ocean breeze drifted in softly, carrying the familiar scent of salt and seaweed — but something in the air felt different.

Calmer.

Less tense.

Kenji noticed it first, in the way people walked. No longer slouching or suspicious, but upright, like they could finally breathe again. Shopkeepers, once wary and tight-lipped, now cracked tired smiles as they opened their shutters. Even the guards, who usually stood stony-faced near the town square, were chatting casually among themselves.

Author noticed too. He elbowed Kenji and nodded toward a pair of townsfolk standing outside a general store.

"You see this? They're actually relaxing. Like, real people."

Kenji nodded but stayed silent.

A merchant leaned over to whisper to his apprentice at the edge of the street, just loud enough for them to hear:

"That's him. The one who burned that pirate. Red Jack. Killed him like it was nothing."

The apprentice's eyes widened. "With fire?"

The merchant gave a single nod.

Kenji kept walking.

He wasn't here to be seen. Fame wasn't the goal.

But it was happening anyway.

Author chuckled beside him. "You're turning heads already. Better not let it go to your head, Captain."

Kenji smirked. "Then it's lucky I have you to keep me grounded."

The tavern hadn't changed. Still dark. Still rough. Still full of the smell of old wood, ale, and pipe smoke. But today, instead of rowdy sea songs and brawls, there was only a low murmur—quick and hushed.

They found a corner booth, tucked away from the bar but close enough to catch stray whispers.

Kenji leaned back and listened.

Bits and pieces floated by:

"Ellion doesn't stay in one place.""Paid off the last guy who tried to track him.""No Fruit, but he's smart. Smart smart."

Author frowned, arms crossed on the table. "So where do we even start? No one knows where he is."

Kenji was quiet for a moment. Then he stood and walked over to the bar.

The barkeep, a man with a thick beard, was drying a tankard when he looked up. Recognition sparked in his eyes.

"Looking for information?"

Kenji nodded. "Ellion Sparrow."

The barkeep scoffed. "You don't want that kind of trouble, kid. Red Jack was rowdy. Ellion? He's something else. Deadly. He doesn't just fight—he plans. Sets traps. Bribes people. The type who knows you're coming before you even decide to leave."

Kenji tilted his head slightly. "Does he have a base? Somewhere he always returns to?"

"No one knows for sure. He comes and goes like the tide. But there's talk of a warehouse off the eastern docks. Late-night traffic. Nothing solid."

Kenji gave a single nod. "Thanks."

They left not long after.

Author exhaled. "This guy sounds like a nightmare."

"He will be—if we go in blind," Kenji replied. "So we won't."

Their room was small, tucked away on the second floor of a peaceful inn. Author collapsed onto the bed with a groan, but Kenji wasn't about to waste the day.

"Up," he said.

Author groaned louder. "You're seriously making me train? The day after we dealt with those goons?"

Kenji gave him a look.

"Fine, fine. I'm up."

They started simple.

Footwork. Evasion. Reading body language. Kenji didn't teach anything flashy—just the kind of techniques that could keep someone alert and alive.

Author stumbled. Tripped. Complained.

But he didn't quit.

Kenji corrected him, encouraged him—but never coddled. That wasn't how he had learned, and it wouldn't help Author either.

Watching his friend struggle through drills brought back memories. The early days. The aches, the near-collapses, the confusion.

And now, here he was.

A soft smile crept onto his face.

"Again."

Evening fell quietly. Lanterns creaked in the wind as Kenji wandered the streets.

He didn't use fire. Didn't want attention.

This wasn't about power. It was about clarity.

The warehouse district was silent. Too silent. Crates stacked high, barrels lying idle in alleys. Rats scurried in the dark.

Kenji waited. Watched. Listened.

Then he heard it.

Whispers. The sound of something being dragged.

He moved forward, staying in the shadows, close to the wall.

Two hooded figures stood at the next alley's bend. One passed a small, wrapped object to the other. Money? A message?

Kenji narrowed his eyes.

The shorter one disappeared into the dark. The taller figure—cloaked in black, face hidden—shifted slightly.

Kenji held his breath.

And then the man vanished, like mist into night.

Kenji didn't follow.

He turned and walked slowly back to the inn, mind replaying every detail. Fitting the pieces together.

If Ellion was truly as clever as they said, this would be a battle of wits.

He'd need to stay ahead.

Back in their room, Author was already asleep. Kenji moved quietly, settling near the window, watching the night unfold.

Outside, the town breathed slow and soft, the sea murmuring below.

His reflection flickered in the glass—sharp eyes, solid stance, hands still glowing faintly with inner fire.

He was no longer just the hunter.

He was being hunted too.

Kenji murmured to himself, voice barely a breath.

"If he's as clever as they say... he'll come to us."

And out in the city's shadows, Ellion Sparrow was already moving.

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