SYSTEM NOTIFICATION: Daily Login Complete.
Daily Bonus: "Fieldwork Focus" (Consumable)
Effect: +10% Training & Trial Efficiency (Duration: 24 hours)
Active Objective: "Finalize Memorandum — Secure Vinsmoke Signatures & Maintain Anonymization"
Primary Objective: "Recruit 2 Crew Nodes — Engineer (Runesmith) & Community Liaison"
Secondary Objective: "Monitor Audit — Assist Saki with Field Verification"
Quest Update: Crew Node Count: 8/10 (Nami, Nojiko, Bell-mère, Reiju, Hana, Kasumi, Misaki, Mitsuki)
New Objective Unlocked: "Investigate Possible Sabotage — Stabilizer #2 Check"
MC Status Check:
Name: Vegito
Race: Full-Blooded Saiyan
Age: — (Biological: Prime Adult)
Special: Tail active; Appetite: Colossal
Abilities: Kame Style (Advanced); Advanced Haki Conditioning (Practiced); Gravity Manipulation (Adept); Marine Six Styles (Observer — Familiar)
Inventory: Compasses x2 ("True" gifted), Spices (Bell-mère's delight), Capsule — Gravity Chamber Accessory
Ship Bonding Level: 58/100
Mood: Colossal hunger. Charm fully charged. Slight tendency toward melodrama.
P.O.V.: Vegito
Morning smelled like a victory I hadn't yet celebrated: salt, coffee that was too good for a ship's galley, and a faint trail of paper from an almost-signed memorandum. The Embrace rode a quiet swell; her runes blinked like someone giving polite applause. Saki—our auditor, who smelled faintly of ink and certainty—had set up a small station in the forward salon with her satchel, a battered stamp, and a face that suggested she liked things tidy. Inspector Gisuke's liaison period had one day left, and the signatures were likely to land us two stabilizers and a heap of cautious trust if we didn't fumble noble etiquette.
Bell-mère ladled stew into bowls with an authority that could have been described as benevolent dictatorship. "Eat up," she ordered, slapping a spoon into a bowl with the porch-bench conviction of a woman who knew bread could fix half the world's problems. "You lot look like a group who'd forget to live if I didn't remind you with soup."
"Ha!" Reiju said, bedside-calm and efficient, taking her bowl with a precise nod. Her pink hair reflected morning light, and for once she didn't have the pencil tucked behind her ear but instead a small seal that Saki had asked her to initial. Misaki was bent over a panel near the rail, already making small modifications to the stabilizer mounts with that look of delighted concentration that made metal feel appreciated. Mitsuki fussed over maps with Nami, pencil skipping like a nervous heart. Nojiko hummed her "Ufufu" as she checked the rigging for any suspicious knots.
I folded my paper with the kind of flourish the system had taught me in "diplomatic theatrics 101" and walked into the salon with all the practiced charm of a man who'd once given a toast that nearly started a revolution. "Ladies," I announced, because the world had decided the crew were, at the very least, a chorus. "Today we sign papers that help people and keep secrets. After that, lunch. And then possibly applause."
Saki looked up from her notes and allowed a corner of her mouth to lift in something like approval. "Practical and theatrical," she said. "Useful combination."
SYSTEM NOTIFICATION: Diplomacy Check: +11 (Expected)
Tip: Signing the memorandum with Saki's seal present increases public trust by +8%.
We had arranged a small, quiet signing in the Embrace's main salon—candles because Reiju insisted contracts looked like vows when the light softened the ink, and because she was right. The Vinsmoke liaison, Inspector Gisuke, arrived with the kind of weathered politeness that made him seem like a ledger you could argue with but would never fool. He sat, pen poised, ledger open like the stern face of law.
"You have our terms," he said, voice polite and accurate. "Our men will rotate through for the duration. We will approve the stabilizer grants pending the auditor's final report."
Saki's pen moved like cold steel. She read clauses aloud with succinct, blunt clarity. "Anonymization protocols in place," she intoned. "Community training obligations documented. Emergency contingency—village sovereignty clause active." Her voice made each point feel concretely moral, which was a different kind of weapon in these seas.
I added, with all the solemnity of a man who takes his theatrics seriously, "And a clause for stew. Should anyone shirk their duties, Bell-mère will adjudicate with a ladle first and ledger second."
Gisuke blinked, then allowed himself a small, near-involuntary laugh. "Ha," he said with a bureaucrat's tenderness. "A culinary clause. Very well." He signed. Saki placed her seal and then, with the kind of finality one reserves for the end of honest things, stamped the memorandum with the loop of her personal mark.
SYSTEM NOTIFICATION: Memorandum Finalized — Vinsmoke Signatures Secured.
Reward: Stabilizers x2 (Immediate Allocation Pending Auditor Dispatch).
Effect: Vinsmoke Liaison Approval: +2 (Tentative Partnership → Formal Agreement)
Caveat: Auditor aboard increases scrutiny; maintain full transparency.
We'd done the measured thing: given, taken, and kept the bones of the tech safely in our hands while letting the Vinsmoke clamor for nothing more than the public stories they could frame. The runes pulsed like a satisfied organism. The Embrace bloomed with a soft hum; the sanctum's walls seemed to breathe a little deeper. I would have struck a dramatic pose if the kettle hadn't already boiled over into Bell-mère's stew in a manner that suggested miracles or poor timing.
We ate celebratory stew like a ship that knew how to keep its heart beating. Reiju and Saki huddled over data sheets; Gisuke left with the polite nod of a man whose ledger smelled acutely of potential. Once the papers were packed away like small weapons, we moved on to the next problem: leaks and the subtle, ugly art of people who think technology is a commodity.
SYSTEM NOTIFICATION: New Objective Active — "Recruit 2 Crew Nodes (Engineer & Community Liaison)"
Hint: Engineer likely to be found near shipyards; community liaison likely respected in local markets & councils. Use charm consumable for best results.
I had a wish-list: someone who read metal like scripture and a woman who moved through market gossip like wind through a page—someone who could turn suspicion into conversation and help us keep public interest from sagging into a marketplace of greed. The Embrace needed both: an engineer who would make the runes sing without being tempted to sell them, and a liaison who would write human stories that didn't reveal bones.
We had leads. A port north—Takanami Cove—was a shipwright's town famous for runic inlays and cryptic smiths. The markets beyond—like Old Capone but smaller—had an old magistrate who ran a tea house and a ledger of favors. Both were perfect hunts for the sort of woman who likes spoons and seafaring truths.
But first—troubles.
SYSTEM NOTIFICATION: Alert — Stabilizer Field Integrity Anomaly Detected (Hamlet #2).
Detail: Micro-transponder signal found near stabilizer interface (non-native).
Priority: High — Investigate for possible sabotage.
I would have preferred an afternoon of flirtatious engineering and polite negotiations. Instead, the system pinged like an alarm clock with a personality disorder. A micro-transponder? Sabotage? The word skittered across the page like a rat at a banquet.
"Keep calm," Saki said, voice a blade wrapped in linen. "If someone planted a tracker they may be aiming for our prototypes. We need to confirm, trace, and—if possible—capture the perpetrator without injuring civilians."
"Good," I said, and felt myself grin. "Then we'll be theatrical in a way that teaches manners."
We sailed to Hamlet #2 at a steady pace, Embrace easy in the water like a cat that had decided to swallow the ocean. The hamlet greeted us like an old friend who'd found the world better than feared—smiles cautious and real. I felt my chest warm like stew. The stabilizer we'd left already hummed repairs into life; villagers waved like small suns.
Saki and Reiju examined the device with the bland concentration of scientists who were also moralists. Misaki and Nojiko swept for obvious tampering; Hana read vital signs on volunteers who'd been trained. I walked around, hands in my pockets, trying to look like a man who handled threats like chores and enjoyed both.
Nojiko found the transponder first—an inconspicuous thing, tucked into a maintenance panel where a cheeky squirrel might hide treasure. It had been welded poorly, dual-bonded to a plate someone had meant would never be inspected.
"Sneaky," Nojiko said, with that small "Ufufu" that read more like a private triumph than anything. She drew the device out and set it on a cloth like one places a curious bug to admire its resilience. "Whoever did this knows how to read a panel."
Saki examined it, jaw tight. "Signal is simple. Buried in a mesh of merchant-band noise. Someone probably wanted our location and maybe to correlate it with tech outputs. It is low-end but effective. Whoever did this lacks access to trained engineers."
"Which is either comforting or dangerous," Reiju said, options folding in her head like geometry. "They will attempt again."
We had choices: call for reinforcements, or make reinforcements of our own and hope to bait the saboteur into thinking we'd remain naive. I prefered the second option because it involved creativity, a little danger, and the sort of performance that made mornings interesting.
"Trap then," I decided. "We pretend it's fixed and leave a decoy—something a little shinier and a little more tempting. Then we ask the village to stay away and let us handle any intrusions. If someone comes to lift the toy, we'll catch them and give them a proper talking-to."
SYSTEM NOTIFICATION: Strategy Approved — Decoy Deployment.
Effect: Bait Status: Armed (Non-Lethal Capture Protocols Active).
We set the decoy: a mock interface that looked like a prototype but contained harmless glittering components and an obvious transponder. Misaki rigged an alarm that would puff a blinding cloud of steam and a tangle of light webbing if tampered with. Kasumi and Nojiko rehearsed non-lethal disarmament sequences in the shortness of the morning like lovers practicing a duet. Hana readied the med kits; Bell-mère provided a basket of stew for watchers and participants alike. The hamlet offered up a bench and a few curious teenagers to be our market spies.
At dusk, as if the world was in on the joke, a small skiff crept close to shore bearing two figures with hoods. They moved with the sort of amateurish caution that betrays experience without courage. One of them—bold, stupid, and obviously the better talker—scaled the pier. The other kept watch with a suspiciously ill-concealed fear of the sea.
"Steady," I whispered into my sleeve. "Act human."
They touched the decoy. Steam hissed. Webbing sprang. A roar—not of anger but of humanly organized surprise—rose from the Embrace. The two intruders hadn't expected to be held like very embarrassed birds. They struggled, instantly flustered.
"Non-lethal," I instructed gently, which is to say: I enjoyed restraint and had practised it in many microwave-timed meditations. Kasumi moved in like a shadow with precise hands. Nojiko tugged at a boot with a perfect disarm that looked like choreography. Misaki's grapnel caught the skiff's line and slowed its escape.
I leapt lightly, using a tug of gravity to shift a would-be escapee into a neat dip in the mud—dignity intact, plans ruined. The crowd gasped; villagers clapped because they'd wanted some excitement and moral restraint both. Bell-mère offered a bowl of stew to one of the caught men like an invitation to speak. "Eat," she told him, voice plain as a plate. "And tell us why you'd put our friends in danger."
The man stared at the bowl like the sudden absence of violence had shifted the world. Under a smaller, gentler pressure, he confessed: he'd been hired by a broker to mark devices for tracking. He didn't know the buyer's name, only a code and a port where rumors moved like fish.
Saki took statements. "We will process this locally," she said. "But we must also trace the micro-transponder's signal and find its source."
SYSTEM NOTIFICATION: Operative Interception — Success.
Reward: Bonding Pulse +12 (Hamlet #2 & Ship Observers)
Effect: Bounty Interest Reduced: -4% (Short-term)
Update: Handler Identity: "Port Broker — Code: Kuroishi." Trace Route: Pending.
We'd caught a rat and glimpsed a syndicate. "Kuroishi" was a shadowy broker name—someone who trafficked in tech leaks. That meant not only opportunists but potentially more organized forces. We'd found our next plot thread, but before we sprinted into high pursuit, I had two recruitment targets to meet and a village to calm.
"Now we go shopping," I said, feeling magnificently theatrical and hungry in equal measure. "We find the engineer who will keep our runes singing and the woman who will keep our stories honest."
Saki nodded. "Preferably people who refuse political patronage," she said dryly. "The auditor would appreciate that."
SYSTEM NOTIFICATION: Recruitment Node Recommendations: "Aoi Ishikawa (Runesmith — Takanami), 'Emiko Saito' (Community Liaison — Tea House Magistrate)."
Hint: Offer Aoi access to runic alloys and privacy for experimentation. Offer Emiko public office and a seat at the training table.
Takanami Cove smelled of hot metal and tea and was perfect for the sort of woman who loved the interplay of rune and hammer. We found Aoi Ishikawa under a quartermaster's awning, her hands black with runic soot and her grin like a welcome. She wore goggles and a scarf tied in a knot that suggested she disliked fussy conversation.
"You're the one with the ship that looks like a god and smells of spices," she said when I introduced myself. "I heard about your sanctum. People whisper good things."
I flashed my practiced grin. "And you are the woman who makes metal sing, I hope? Aoi, I've read the pamphlets. I can pay well, give you runes and room, and a ship where your work won't be auctioned like a curiosity."
She examined me like a jeweller inspects a gem. "You offer freedom and tools," she said. "Not money as control." It was not a guarded question but a small test. "Why would I leave a steady bench?"
"Because you'll be doing things here you won't risk on any bench," I said simply. "A workshop, privacy in the Embrace's belly, and access to the sanctum's calibration systems. You can upgrade our stabilizers and keep the real schematics with us—no sells, no tricks."
She blinked and then—terrifyingly delightful—laughed. "Ha!" it was quick, bright, and honest, like the sound of metal hitting metal properly. "You talk like someone who likes nice things. I accept conditional passage, pending materials and a proper fire."
SYSTEM NOTIFICATION: Recruitment Attempt — Engineer Node (Aoi Ishikawa).
Charm Roll: +12 (Success)
Result: Aoi accepted conditional passage pending workspace provisioning.
Reward: Bonding Pulse +8 (Ship & Aoi)
Effect: Crew Nodes: 9/10
Aoi's hands were like maps of possibility. She set to work immediately—inspecting our stabilizers, noting places to hide redundancies and creating runic seals that would resist prying hands. Misaki and she formed a quick, delighted rivalry, arguing belts and rivets while trading jokes that made the hull seem even friendlier.
We still needed one more woman: someone who could translate suspicion into policy, who could take Saki's dry audits and make them sing as stories that restored dignity without revealing skeletons. Emiko Saito came to mind: a magistrate-turned-tea-house-keeper who had a talent for making the public trust her the way people trust hearths.
We found Emiko in the market square of a port whose name smelled of citrus and battered flags. Her tea house was small but controlled—an island of calm with shelves of paper and a ledger that had survived more bad politics than the town council. Emiko looked human-sized and large-hearted, with a hand that rested as if healing on the air.
"I hear you need someone who can tell stories without giving away the kitchen," she said when I asked. "You have runes and a lady auditor. Do you also have patience?"
"Patience?" I echoed, and then, because some things are better sold with honesty, added, "A lot of it. Food. A stable desk. And—" I reached into my satchel and produced a small bowl of Bell-mère's stew in a thermal container that she refused to let me give out like charity. "—a lifetime supply of decent soup."
She tasted it like a connoisseur whose palate had graded many lies. Her smile was slow and approving. "Ha," she said, and it landed like permission. "I will help, but I will not be a mouthpiece. I want the villagers to speak for themselves. I want them not to be used."
Saki nodded approvingly. "A good liaison should be a mirror and not a megaphone," she said. "You will help the audit by ensuring the reports contain accessible schematics and by creating community minutes."
SYSTEM NOTIFICATION: Recruitment Attempt — Liaison Node (Emiko Saito).
Charm Roll: +13 (Success).
Result: Emiko accepted conditional passage pending public assurances and a promise to keep village sovereignty explicit.
Reward: Bonding Pulse +9 (Ship & Emiko)
Effect: Crew Nodes: 10/10 — Heaven's Embrace at full capacity (Conditional).
The Embrace hummed like a thing that had been completed. I felt a warmth behind my ribs like a bowl of stew wholly consumed. Aoi's hands smelled of metal and possibility. Emiko moved through the crew like a soft pen, making notes and asking small but very necessary questions. Saki smiled—rare, satisfied—at our additions and took the liberty of stamping more forms in a way that made the ship feel entirely more official.
SYSTEM NOTIFICATION: Crew Node Cap Reached: 10/10 (Nami, Nojiko, Bell-mère, Reiju, Hana, Kasumi, Misaki, Mitsuki, Aoi, Emiko).
Reward: Ship Offensive Capability Partial Unlock — Core Systems Stabilized (Level: 1/3).
Caveat: Auditor presence & Vinsmoke partnership increase scrutiny. Maintain transparency.
We celebrated in a way that suited the Embrace: with food, songs, and a small "welcome to the madness" ceremony that involved way too much stew and a near-officiated blessing from Bell-mère. The crew's laughs braided together like chorus—my own loud "Ha!" cutting threads of sea-breeze while Nami's shy "Ha!" chimed like glass, Nojiko's "Ufufu" smoothed edges, and Emiko's measured "Ha!" felt like the steady stamp of someone who knew promises had weight.
But the Kuroishi thread still tugged at us. The transponder's trace led to a route of small ports where brokers meet and secrets are sold under tablecloths. Saki's network, paired with Aoi's newfound runic seals and Misaki's reconnaissance, suggested a plan: follow breadcrumbs, trap the broker, and cut off the leak.
"Elegant," Reiju said, eyes glittering. "But we must avoid turning this into a public play. If Kuroishi sees himself threatened, he'll sell the route to someone worse."
"Then we play quiet," I said. "Like a kitchen at midnight. Small, efficient, and with less show than a festival."
We sailed in a whisper, using the Embrace's folded wings to hide and the sanctum to train while we waited. I taught Aoi the basics of Haki sensing so she could feel for the tiny betrayals a someone making metal might overlook. Emiko sat with villagers and with Saki, drafting minutes that read like warm stories rather than evidence logs. I taught Nami a particular projection trick—how to make her maps read like a lullaby so people would trust her enough to follow safe routes. Reiju and Hana went over emergency protocols again as if the world had a habit of forgetting little things that matter.
SYSTEM NOTIFICATION: Bonding Pulse +22 (Collective — New Crew Integration).
Effect: Ship Bonding Level: +8 (Now 66/100)
Tip: Full crew nodes increase innovation in the sanctum. Use Embrace Sanctum for mass training to unlock next offensive tier.
The trap we set was quieter than I'd expected: a small meeting in a port that smelled of citrus and gossip. We sent word through the hamlet networks that a tech broker sought buyers for "rare stabilizer details." We let the rumor run like a dropped hair through a comb. The bait was specific and small—suggested payment and a contact person. Kuroishi's people reached out in the tangle of night, expecting greed; they found neither greed nor the expected ease.
It was Kasumi who faced the broker—calm and clinical. Kasumi pretended to be a buyer with a taste for shiny currency; her skill lay in making the dangerous look like a simple thing. She smiled, offered tea (a trick learned from Emiko), and then, with the kind of grace that had spent a lifetime near blades, let the net—legal, ethical, and shiny—fall.
Kuroishi tried to run. He was not particularly clever about it. Aoi had already looped the path; Misaki's small grapnels tightened; Nojiko's careful latching made his options narrow. Saki read him like a ledger and offered a stern audit that sounded like a moral equation. The broker's relief at being face-to-face with people who didn't mete punishment with swords but with courts, public humiliation, and legal binding was visible.
"Public interest will ruin you more than the sea," Emiko told him softly as she took his name and his favors. "We will ensure that anyone who paid you is recorded, and then we'll offer them a choice: explain or confess."
It was an unanticipated mercy that worked. The broker spilled names—small men in larger ports who fed lust for tech into markets. We recorded everything. We didn't burn him; instead we offered him a chance to work off his debts teaching at a market school that Emiko and Hana set up. It was the kind of punishment that could grow bones instead of making men bitter.
SYSTEM NOTIFICATION: Investigation Completed — Broker "Kuroishi" Apprehended.
Reward: Bonding Pulse +18 (Port Observers & Capture Team).
Effect: Leak Source Contained; Trace leads to secondary brokers (investigation ongoing).
Caveat: Higher-level buyers likely alerted; continue vigilance.
We'd cut a vein of malice and sutured the wound with an offering of redemption. It felt like something more honest than victory. I confess I liked my victories without blood when possible—both because I was sentimental and because blood complicates paperwork.
That night the Embrace felt full in a way that made the aft deck glow. The crew sang—a raucous thing of voices that had learned the difference between fighting for survival and fighting for dignity. Nami sang a thin melody that had once been a lullaby, her voice catching the tide in a way that made grown men feel small and very grateful. I joined in with a loud, unapologetic "Ha!"—a proper punctuation.
Saki brewed a pot of tea and sat in the low light, jotting notes about public trust. "You have done well," she told me quietly. "But you must be careful. Bigger forces will watch and choose sides. Your independence is notable, which makes you both appealing and dangerous."
"I prefer dangerous with a bowl of stew," I said, offering her a spoon. "But I understand."
She smiled faintly, accepting the spoon. "Then keep feeding people and keep your secrecy. It is a difficult balance, but you have the right temperament. Save your theatrical things for when they help people."
I looked at my crew—10 women I would later embarrass by admitting I adored more than a little—and felt the sort of warm ridiculousness that made me believe the world might be better than its worst headlines. The Embrace purred like a contented, slightly smug cat.
SYSTEM NOTIFICATION: Daily Summary Saved.
Achievements: Crew Nodes Full (10/10); Broker Kuroishi Apprehended; Memorandum Signed & Auditor Active.
Rewards: Stabilizers x2 (Allocated — Pending Field Check), Community Liaison Node Active, Runic Engineer Node Active.
Effect: Ship Bonding Level: +8 (Now 66/100)
Next Objective: Continue investigations to buyers; run Phase 3 trials; upgrade stabilizer architecture with Aoi & Misaki; initiate community open-days per Emiko's design.
Hint: Use Embrace Sanctum to accelerate training for all crew. Emphasize public human-interest pieces coordinated by Emiko to reduce Bounty interest.
P.O.V.: Vegito
After the day's work, I stood on the foredeck and let the cold salt air press its face into mine like an old friend pinching cheeks. The Embrace's runes flickered like applause when bellows are needed. Reiju came up beside me, hands tucked together; her smile was small and satisfied.
"You did well today," she said, which was the small currency of praise that travels farther than gold.
"I didn't do it alone," I said, meaning it. "Everyone here did. Even the stew had a part to play."
She laughed—a crisp "Ha!"—and we leaned on the rail like conspirators watching the ocean plan us new problems. "Keep the steward of your heart equal parts warm and dangerous," she told me. "The world values both."
"Then I'll be the sort of man who burns toast and nations if necessary," I said theatrically, and she smacked me with a rolled-up maintenance log—lightly, in a way that suggested affection.
Below deck, Bell-mère hummed a tune as she cleaned supper plates; Nojiko tapped a rhythm on bolts that made me want to call it music; Nami traced a new map with a pencil that had been given to her by Emiko; Misaki and Aoi argued over rivet types like lovers, and Kasumi cleaned her blade with a softness that hid an alloy of excellent judgement. Hana read through a list of patients for the new traveling clinic. Mitsuki practiced compass drills until Nami forgave her for being clumsy, and Reiju marked another calibration in a log that smelled like carefulness.
The Embrace sighed like a thing content with the day's stitches. I felt the system's gentle hum in my chest like an echo of the ship itself.
"Tomorrow," I said, tail curling like a question mark, "we make the stabilizers better, we teach the hamlets to maintain them, and we make sure that whoever tries to buy human suffering finds only the sound of a very loud kitchen instead."
Reiju's laugh—the precise "Ha!"—answered like a verdict. "Yes," she said, with something secretive in her eyes. "And we keep the promises we give people."
SYSTEM NOTIFICATION: Tomorrow's Goal: Upgrade Stabilizers (Aoi & Misaki), Run Phase 3 Field Trials (Hamlet #4), Continue Anti-Leak Investigation (Trace: Secondary Brokers).
Objective Reminder: Maintain anonymization; ensure audit & Vinsmoke transparency alignment; recruit public trust data via Emiko.
I lay on the foredeck and watched the stars like a man learning constellations for the first time. The Embrace hummed like a contented animal that had been given purpose. My stomach growled in agreement and then in hunger; Bell-mère, I suspected, had plans for late-night stew. I laughed—loud and theatrical, because what else do you do when the world has given you a ship full of good people and the first tastes of being dangerously, happily useful?
"Ha!" I said into the night, and the Embrace seemed to answer back in kind.
End of Chapter 10