As the villagers gathered around, their voices erupted in a joyful chorus.

"Mashiro's back!" they exclaimed, thrilled to see him. "He's finally returned!"

Years had passed since Mashiro left their small fishing village, but he'd built a reputation for himself as a trader on ships that sailed the coast and visited island towns.

To the villagers, his homecoming was like a hero's return.

Kuzan stood up, a broad smile on his face, ready to welcome him back.

But his wife, Tonomi, tugged on his sleeve, her eyes filled with concern.

She nodded toward their young daughter who trembled in her lap, intimidated by Mashiro's imposing figure.

Kuzan's smile faltered as he sat back down, comforting his child. But his eyes stayed fixed on Mashiro, a mix of envy and awe in his gaze.

The black raincoat Mashiro wore was a luxury they could only dream of. It was a harsh reminder of how different their lives were.

Mashiro looked more robust than Kuzan, despite being older. His face was smoother, without the deep lines that had formed on his face from years of hardship.

But what really fueled Kuzan's jealousy was the implication of Mashiro's arrival.

To have braved the raging storm, he must have come in a large merchant ship, a vessel that could weather the fury of the sea.

It was a dream that Kuzan, and every other fisherman on Jiro Island, had long since given up on.

As Mashiro walked down the center aisle, the villagers parted to let him through.

The chief felt a knot in his stomach as he watched him approach. He was angry, resentful, and more than a little envious.

When Mashiro had first said he was leaving the island, he had been against it.

But now, as Mashiro returned in triumph, he could only marvel at the twist of fate that had left his village struggling while Mashiro thrived.

Mashiro ignored the chief, his eyes fixed on the statue of the Sea God at the far end of the temple.

With a scornful sneer, he spat on the ground in front of the the statue.

"What's the point of worshiping this thing?" he sneered, his finger jabbing at the statue. "You call this faith? Groveling before a chunk of stone?"

The villagers recoiled, shock and outrage written all over their faces. The village chief jumped to his feet, his voice shaking with anger.

"Shut up!" he bellowed. "How dare you disrespect the Sea God!"

But Mashiro ignored him. "Has your precious Sea God ever helped you out?" he taunted.

"Has your faith made your lives any better? Look around! You're still struggling to survive, still scraping by on whatever the sea gives you."

He shook his head, his laughter harsh and mocking. "The Sea God doesn't care if you live or die. He's happy to let you suffer, to let you starve. But I know a god who can really make things happen."

He raised his hands to the heavens, his voice rising to a fevered pitch.

"Follow me!" he yelled.

"Believe in the true god of the sea! He's the one who can give you endless fish and limitless gold."

"He's the one who can make you His chosen people, destined for His kingdom. And in His kingdom, eternal life awaits the faithful!"

As if in answer to his call, a bolt of lightning split the sky, bathing the temple in an eerie purple glow.

At that moment, the villagers saw Mashiro's face transformed, his eyes bulging and bloodshot, his grin twisted into a mad, grotesque smile.

Children screamed, burying their faces in their mothers' skirts. The village chief, shaken from his stupor, pointed a trembling finger at Mashiro.

"Get this heretic out of here!" he bellowed. "He's lost his mind!"

The villagers rushed at Mashiro, grabbing his arms, trying to drag him away. But he shook them off, his laughter echoing into the heavy rain.

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"If you don't believe me, come to the harbor tonight!" he shouted as they forced him towards the door.

"I'll show you the power of the true god! Then you'll see who really rules the waves!"

His words were swallowed by the storm as the temple doors slammed shut behind him. The chief turned to the frightened villagers.

"The ceremony is over," he said, his voice hollow. "Go home, all of you. And pray for our deliverance from this madness."

----------

In the warmth of their humble home, Tonomi soothed little Toka, singing softly until the child's eyelids grew heavy.

Kuzan sat at the table, his brow furrowed, lost in thought. When his wife joined him, her eyes were soft with understanding.

"You're thinking about what happened, aren't you?" she asked gently.

He nodded, his fingers drumming a restless beat on the worn tabletop. "The village chief says Mashiro is a heretic, brainwashed by some cult. He wants us to stay away, to cast him out at dawn."

Tonomi's hand came to rest on Kuzan's, stilling his nervous motion.

"I know," she said. "But our village has struggled for so long. We've prayed to the Sea God, begged for his aid, but nothing ever changes."

He sighed, the weight of their hardship heavy on his shoulders.

"Every time I go out to sea, I ask for just one good catch. Just enough to keep us from starving. But the Sea God is silent. If he doesn't hear our prayers soon..."

He trailed off, unable to voice the fear that haunted his every waking moment.

Tonomi drew him close, holding him tight.

"If you feel you must go to the harbor tonight, then go," she whispered. "See for yourself what Mashiro's god can offer. Maybe it will ease your mind."

Kuzan held her tight, feeling grateful for her support. He knew she was right. He needed to confront this unease, or it would consume him.

He hugged her one last time, then let her go, his eyes glinting with determination in the flickering candlelight. "I'll go," he said, his voice steady. "I'll pray that I find the answers we need."

----------

The storm had passed, leaving behind only the sound of waves washing over the shore. On the path to the harbor, figures emerged from the darkness, their footsteps muffled by the soft sand.

Nine men, their faces gaunt and exhausted, gathered at the water's edge.

Among them stood Kuzan, his eyes fixed on the massive ship bobbing just beyond the reef.

It was Mashiro's vessel, too large to dock at the shallow harbor, a towering behemoth of wood and iron that promised untold riches.

Mashiro greeted them with a warm smile. "Welcome, friends," he said. "Let me show you the power of the true god."

He led them to a small boat, his crew standing silently at the oars. As they pushed off from the shore, Kuzan studied the sailors, feeling a bit uneasy.

Though they wore ordinary sailor's garb, their faces were hidden behind high collars and dark glasses, their movements stiff and robotic.

When one of the villagers tried to strike up a conversation, the sailors remained silent, their gazes fixed straight ahead.

Suddenly, the boat lurched violently, throwing the passengers off balance.

"It's alright!" Mashiro called out, his voice cutting through the startled cries. "Just a bit of reef. Nothing to worry about."

As the boat righted itself, Kuzan caught a glimpse of one sailor's hand.

The skin was mottled and bumpy, the fingers webbed like some grotesque parody of a human hand.

Kuzan blinked, wondering if he'd really seen it. He kept his eyes downcast for the rest of the journey.

One of the villagers spoke up, his voice high and thin with fear. "Why have you brought us here? You promised to show us your ship, your fish and gold. This is just a deserted rock!"

Mashiro's laughter sent shivers down Kuzan's spine, like the rustling of dry leaves.

"Patience, my friends," he chided.

"I brought you here to prove not what I have, but what you can gain by believing in the true god. Follow me, and I'll show you how to claim the riches that are your birthright."

The villagers huddled together, their whispers buzzing like angry insects as they followed Mashiro up a winding path.

At the top of a rocky hill, he turned to face them, a strange golden amulet glinting in his hand.

"Behold!" he cried. "The sign of the true god, He who rules the waves and all that swims beneath!"

Mashiro began to chant. As his voice grew louder, the wind whipped into a frenzy, howling around them like a wounded beast.

Kuzan felt terror seize his chest, his hairs standing on end. He wanted to run, to flee this accursed place and the madman who had brought them here.

But his legs remained rooted to the spot, his eyes fixed on the amulet that burned like a miniature sun in Mashiro's grasp.

Mashiro's voice reached a fever pitch. And then, from the waters below, came a sound that froze the blood in Kuzan's veins.

A bubbling, hissing noise, like the breath of some monstrous creature rising from the deep.

The villagers panicked, dropping their torches as they scrambled back from the edge.

The flames sputtered out as they hit the water, plunging the scene into darkness.

But Mashiro's voice still rang out, wild and uncontrolled, summoning something from the depths.

----------

As dawn broke over Jiro Island, the sun's gentle light exposed the chaos on the shore.

The village chief, flanked by a crowd of angry villagers, marched towards the harbor, set on driving Mashiro and his heresy from their community.

But Mashiro's response was not one of fear or apology. Instead, he flashed a cold, savage grin that left the villagers breathless.

Just then, someone shouted, "Look!" and pointed to the shallows.

"The tide's gone out! And there, in the rocks... it's fish! More fish than I've ever seen!"

The villagers surged forward, their anger forgotten as they splashed into the receding waters.

Everywhere they looked, there were fish.

Kuzan was among them, scooping up the wriggling creatures into his shirt, hardly daring to believe his eyes.

But as he reached for another, his hand closed around something cold and hard, buried in the sand.

He pulled it free, his breath catching in his throat. It was a golden amulet, identical to the one Mashiro had wielded the night before.

The surface was etched with strange symbols, depicting a creature that was half-man, half-fish, its features twisted in a grin.

"Gold!" Kuzan shouted, his voice trembling with wonder. "I found gold!"

The villagers swarmed around him, their eyes aglow with greed. And then, like a fever breaking, the cries began to echo up and down the shore.

"More gold, over here!"

"I found a piece, too!"

"The true god has blessed us!"

Kuzan clutched the amulet to his chest, the events of the previous night fading like a half-remembered dream.

All that mattered was the treasure in his hands, the promise of a life free from worry.

As the villagers scrambled in the sand, lost to their gold-lust, only little Toka remained on the shore, her eyes fixed on the lone figure by the harbor.

Mashiro stood at the water's edge, his lips moving silently. And there, bobbing gently in the waves, was a dark green shape.