Jun's POV

The sea stretched out before us, vast and unyielding, as if daring us to forget the horrors we'd left behind on land. I gripped the railing of the ship, the salt wind whipping against my face, but it did little to ease the tension knotted in my chest.

The dead city was still fresh in my mind—its decay, the mindless sick stumbling through the streets, the desperation in their lifeless eyes. We'd barely made it out alive.

I glanced over my shoulder at her. She was leaning against the mast, her shoulders hunched, staring out at the waves with a far-off look. The little rat was still clutching the dagger I'd given her, her knuckles pale around the hilt. She hadn't let it go since we boarded.

She wasn't built for this life. That much was obvious. And yet, she was still here.

I turned my gaze back to the horizon, exhaling slowly. I didn't like the weight of responsibility she brought with her. I'd spent my life looking out for myself and my crew, and now I had to keep an eye on her too.

It wasn't out of kindness, though. That much I was certain of. She was useful—at least, she would be, once she learned to stand on her own two feet.

"Captain," one of the crew called from behind me.

I turned to see Haun approaching, his expression grim.

"The sails are patched up, but we'll need better repairs when we dock again. We're pushing the ship too hard."

I nodded. "Noted. Let's focus on making it through the next few days. We'll find somewhere safe to anchor and handle it then."

Haun hesitated before speaking again. "And the girl?"

"What about her?" I asked, though I knew what he was getting at.

"She's slowing us down," he said bluntly. "And she's a liability. The men are talking."

I stiffened but kept my voice calm. "Let them talk. She stays."

Haun didn't argue, though I could see the doubt in his eyes as he walked away.

I sighed, running a hand through my hair. The crew wasn't wrong. She was a liability. But abandoning her wasn't an option—not after everything that had happened.

~~~

Later that day, I found her sitting on the deck, staring at the dagger in her hands. Her tattered dress was still covered in grime from the city, and I frowned as I realized how exposed she was.

This content has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

"Little rat," I said, approaching her.

She looked up, startled, and immediately scowled. "Stop calling me that."

I smirked. "Stop looking like one, then."

Her glare deepened, but she didn't have a comeback. Instead, she shifted uncomfortably, pulling the fabric of her dress over her knees.

I crossed my arms, studying her for a moment. She wasn't going to last long like this—not in those clothes, not without knowing how to defend herself.

"Get up," I said.

She blinked at me. "What?"

"Get up," I repeated. "You need to learn how to fight."

Her expression shifted from confusion to defiance. "I already did. You made me swing that sword around for hours."

"That was practice," I said, rolling my eyes. "This is training."

She groaned but obeyed, standing and brushing off her dress. "Fine. But if this is just an excuse to make me look stupid—"

"You don't need my help for that," I interrupted, smirking.

Her glare returned, but she followed me to the center of the deck. I gestured for her to pick up the sword from where it rested against the mast.

"Show me what you remember," I said.

She hesitated before picking up the blade, her movements awkward and unsure. Her stance was wrong—her feet too close together, her grip too tight—but at least she wasn't dropping it.

I sighed. "No. Like this."

Stepping closer, I adjusted her hands on the hilt, my fingers briefly brushing against hers. She stiffened, but I ignored it, focusing instead on correcting her posture.

"Spread your feet," I instructed. "Bend your knees. Keep your weight balanced."

She obeyed, though her movements were stiff.

"Now, swing."

"At what?"

"At me."

Her eyes widened. "Are you serious?"

I raised an eyebrow. "Do I look like I'm joking?"

She hesitated before swinging the sword in a wide arc. I sidestepped easily, shaking my head.

"Too slow," I said. "Again."

She swung again, and again I dodged. Her movements were clumsy, but there was a spark of determination in her eyes that surprised me.

For hours, I pushed her, correcting her form and forcing her to repeat the same moves until she was drenched in sweat. Her frustration was evident, but she didn't complain.

By the time we finished, the sun was setting, casting a golden glow across the deck. She was panting, her arms trembling from exertion, but she still managed to glare at me.

"Happy now?" she asked, her voice dripping with sarcasm.

I smirked. "Not bad, little rat. For a beginner."

She rolled her eyes but didn't argue.

As she set the sword down, I reached into my pocket and pulled out a folded cloth. Inside was a strip of dried meat, something I'd taken from the rations earlier.

"Here," I said, handing it to her.

She stared at it, surprised. "What's this for?"

"For not passing out," I replied, my tone casual.

She took it hesitantly, her expression softening for a moment before she muttered, "Thanks."

~~~

That night, I sat alone in my cabin, the flickering lantern casting shadows across the walls. The events of the past few days played over and over in my mind.

The sick, the chaos, the fight to reach the ship—it was a miracle we'd survived.

And yet, I couldn't stop thinking about her.

She was stubborn, inexperienced, and far too naive for her own good. But there was a strength in her, buried beneath the fear and uncertainty. It was the kind of strength that couldn't be taught, the kind that could only be forged through fire.

For a moment, I wondered what she'd been like before all this—before the city, before the ship, before me.

Shaking my head, I pushed the thought aside. It didn't matter who she was. What mattered was who she'd become.

And if she wanted to survive, she'd have to learn fast.

As the lantern flickered out, plunging the cabin into darkness, I made a silent vow.

Whatever it took, I'd make sure she was ready.