Six days.
Six long, rolling, salt-soaked days.
The sea had grown calmer the closer they traveled east. The wind shifted warmer. The water lost its steel-blue harshness and softened into something brighter.
On the morning of the seventh day—
Land appeared.
At first it was a faint smudge on the horizon.
Then cliffs.
Then layered rooftops rising beyond a curved shoreline.
Red torii gates stood at the port's entrance like guardians watching over the sea.
"Kogane no Sora," Peter said quietly beside him.
The Golden Sky of the East.
As the ship entered the harbor, Caelum noticed something immediately.
The organization.
No chaos. No shouting over each other. Dock workers moved with measured coordination. Crates were aligned in precise stacks. Officials recorded shipments in careful brush strokes rather than hurried ink scribbles.
Even the guards—
They stood differently.
Clad in layered armor that emphasized flexibility over bulk. Fabric mixed with light plate. No heavy European-style breastplates.
And the swords.
Curved.
Single-edged.
Worn at the waist.
The scabbards lacquered. Handles wrapped tightly.
Caelum's eyes narrowed slightly.
They prioritize draw speed.
Clean cuts.
Agility over brute force.
The ship docked smoothly.
Planks lowered.
Peter clapped his shoulder once.
"Come."
They stepped onto the port.
The air smelled of grilled fish, incense, and something sweet Caelum couldn't place.
He didn't realize how long it had been since he'd seen architecture like this—sloped tiled roofs, sliding wooden doors, paper-paneled windows glowing softly in daylight.
Peter glanced sideways at him.
"Beautiful, isn't it?"
Caelum didn't respond immediately.
He was watching two guards spar lightly near a warehouse.
Short, precise movements.
Minimal wasted motion.
The duel ended in seconds.
Clean.
Measured.
"Yes," Caelum said finally. "It is."
Peter smirked.
"Every time I come here, I have a blast."
He gestured toward the bustling market streets ahead.
"Enjoy yourself while you live here."
Live here.
The words lingered.
They walked through the market.
It was overwhelming in a way that battle never was.
Bright fabrics hung in rows like banners. Fresh seafood displayed on crushed ice. Vendors called out in a dialect that rolled differently than the western tongue.
Children ran past laughing.
A musician played a three-stringed instrument near a tea stall.
Caelum's eyes moved constantly.
Absorbing.
Studying.
Even the way people bowed slightly when greeting each other.
Different.
Structured.
Peter led him into a clothing shop.
The interior smelled faintly of cedar and starch.
An older woman approached, eyes narrowing slightly as she took in Caelum's height and build.
"You will need proper attire," Peter said casually.
Caelum stood still as fabrics were held against him.
He ended up with:
A lightweight kimono underlayer, soft and breathable. Obi pants fitted but flexible. A darker outer robe layered over it. And a simple black hair tie.
When the shop lady stepped behind him to tie his hair, her fingers paused slightly.
"…Your hair is beautiful," she murmured.
Caelum stiffened faintly.
"Snow white," she continued softly. "And very soft. Are you from a noble family?"
His jaw tightened almost imperceptibly.
"No."
She hummed gently, tying it neatly at the base.
"Very well."
When he stepped outside again—
He felt lighter.
Less like a western knight.
More like… no one.
Peter looked him up and down.
"See? You fit."
They stopped next at a noodle stall.
Steam rose thickly into the air.
Peter ordered confidently.
Bowls were placed before them.
Caelum stared at the thin wooden sticks in his hand.
"…Explain."
Peter burst out laughing.
"You've fought mana beasts but chopsticks are your downfall?"
Caelum glared faintly.
For fifteen minutes—
He failed.
Noodles slipped.
Broth splashed.
Peter nearly choked from laughing.
"Grip them like you would control a blade," Peter finally said between laughs. "One stationary. One moving."
Caelum adjusted.
Studied.
Corrected.
Finally—
He lifted noodles successfully.
A small victory.
The broth was rich.
Savory.
Comforting.
He hadn't realized how hungry he was for something warm that wasn't survival.
That week passed gently.
They visited shrines.
Watched training demonstrations.
Observed craftsmen shaping wood and steel with almost spiritual patience.
Caelum said little.
But he watched everything.
On the final day—
They stopped at a blacksmith.
The forge roared.
Heat rolled out in waves.
An older man looked up from his work and smiled faintly.
"Ah. Peter."
Peter grinned.
"You finished it?"
The blacksmith nodded and turned, retrieving a sheathed blade from a wooden stand.
He handed it over carefully.
The katana gleamed subtly even sheathed.
Balanced.
Refined.
Peter drew it slightly—
The sound of steel leaving scabbard was almost musical.
Caelum felt it instantly.
Different from western longswords.
Single edge.
Curved.
Built for decisive motion.
Peter admired it briefly.
Then he turned toward Caelum.
"…Caelum."
Caelum froze.
He hadn't given the Peter that name.
The old man smiled faintly.
"This one is yours."
He presented the blade to him.
Caelum didn't move.
"I have always known who you were," the Peter continued calmly.
"There is no way I would forget the man who once saved my life."
Silence.
Peter said nothing.
Caelum's fingers tightened slightly.
He accepted the blade slowly.
The weight was perfect.
Balanced closer to the hilt for faster control.
"…Thank you," he said quietly.
Peter exhaled.
"I owe you more than that."
Caelum glanced at him.
Peter's voice softened.
"I named my son after you."
The world felt still for a second.
"He's going to be a knight," Peter added. "When he grows up."
Caelum's expression shifted.
Not pride.
Something gentler.
"He will be a great knight," he said evenly.
Peter smiled.
A tear slipped down his face before he could stop it.
"It's getting late," Peter said after a moment. "Time for us to part ways."
The forge crackled softly behind them.
Caelum nodded once.
"I enjoyed the time we had."
Peter laughed lightly.
"Don't sound like you're marching to war."
Caelum allowed the faintest smile.
"I won't forget you."
Peter stepped forward and pulled him into a brief embrace.
Strong.
Unashamed.
"Tell your children about me," Peter said.
Caelum hesitated.
Then nodded.
"I will."
They stepped back.
Waved once.
And walked in opposite directions.
Peter toward the harbor.
Caelum—
Toward the city's interior.
The Golden Sky stretched wide above him.
He carried a new blade at his side.
A borrowed name on his back.
And for the first time since leaving Termina—
He was not chasing Lloyd.
He was walking into something unknown.
And destiny—
Was very quiet.