PORTFOLIO

​Yamapi and Ryo faced the dawn on the Honshu's easternmost shore, both leaning against the pole of the dock. All around them, sailors were scurrying to finish the final preparations on the ship that would, in a matter of minutes, be taking them to Hokkaido. The salty breeze whipped at the loose folds of their clothing as sea spray dampened the dock on which they stood, waiting for the signal to board.
 
“Are you sure it’s a good idea to take a ship?” Ryo asked, voicing his concern.
 
Yamapi glanced over, holding a hand up to guard his hair scattering around his face with the morning wind. His eyes showed determination, as they often were, and his other hand was held in a tight fist at the rail. He shook his head and gave Ryo a small, genuine smile. “I’ll be fine.”
 
“Okay,” Ryo replied briskly, then sighed. “Just stay near me. I kind of have a bad feeling about this.”
 
Yamapi bit his lips, looking around the wide blue sea once more. Yamapi believed in hard work and perseverance, and he knew nothing good can be achieved without pain. But at some point, he regretted being himself. It just felt unfair that he had to go through such things. Ryo gave up some time ago, but Yamapi wanted to hold on to his hope. “Ryo, you need not follow. Just stay here and enjoy the rest of your life peacefully.”
 
Ryo scoffed, rolling his eyes dramatically. “As if you can go without me,” he laughed. “I know as Liminals, you’re stronger than I am. But sometimes, you’re just useless. This is one of them,” Ryo gestured towards the ship.
 
Yamapi scrunched his face in annoyance. “Yeah, thank you for the compliment,” he replied sarcastically.

Ryo grinned, averting his gaze to the golden sun that was now rising above deep waters growing bluer by the second. “Anyway, I would feel lonely without you here,” his melancholic voice echoed, killing his smile in a matter of seconds. And Yamapi fell into silence.
 
“I’m sorry,” Yamapi murmured, his heart clenching at the pain, remembering the moments Ryo lost everything dear to his heart. And his eyes flickered at the necklace with white pearl dangling around Ryo’s neck by the blow of the wind—it was pure, calm, and beautiful, just like the original owner.
 
“Don’t be,” Ryo shook his head. “We should hurry, they will be leaving.”
 
They trotted hurriedly when they saw a middle-aged sailor waving from the ship's boarding plank, beckoning towards his passengers. The boarding plank was pulled, the sails were dropped, and then the ship was floating away from the dock, towards the sun. Yamapi looked back until the ship was too far out for him to see the land, he faced the distant horizon. His gaze was more piercing than the morning chill of the water. He wanted his freedom—his freedom to live a normal life, his freedom to love whomever he deserved.
 
The storm struck at midnight. Unforeseen from the south, gales rocked the ship and its occupants with earthquake force, and it was all the sailors could do to keep the ship on course. Ryo and Yamapi did as they must—staying out of the way and letting the trained men do their frantic work. Water pounded the sides of the ship and hundreds of frigid raindrops stabbed their flesh like needles. The sheets of water were so thick that it was nearly impossible to see four feet in front of them.
 
Yamapi kept a strong grip on the strap, while Ryo just tried to balance himself without any hold. The storm's wicked wrath broke chunks of wood off the mast, seen clearly only when lightning cracked the death-dark sky. The shouts of the sailors were lost to the wind, ruining communication.
 
And then Ryo noticed all of the sailors stopping dead in their tracks and facing the prow. Ryo too turned and saw the tidal wave, larger than any he had seen in his life. The entire crew was frozen, knowing any more effort was useless and that their end was inevitable. In the seconds that the wall of water started to arc and fall, Ryo had only one thought.
 
It was a dragon.