Ever since Rita got her War-tier rod, she had been hauling in a fish almost every five minutes.
Glitter Strawberry Fish, Tutu Sunfish, Keef Angel Fish... she’d caught them all, rare fish ranked anywhere from fourth to fiftieth place. But it wasn’t enough.
Because Tanuki had landed the third-rarest Ghost Fish. And Quex had pulled in the second-rarest, the Jewel Zebra Fish.
Rita had learned this from Raccoon, trading five Scratch Cards for the intel.
"Tanuki used her spatial skill to carve out a whole chunk of ocean and stash it in her pack. The Ghost Fish happened to be inside..."
"And Quex has that famous ability of hers—she can ignore space and distance, reaching across reality to snatch whatever she wants into her hand. I don’t know all the limits of that skill, but she dragged the Jewel Zebra straight into her bucket. It counted."
"Maybe you already know this, but I’ll say it anyway: only one of the top three rare fish spawns each day."
"Only one, every day."
They spoke the words at almost the sa mont.
Rita gazed out at the line where sea t sky, lost in thought.
Maybe the Divine Ga really was shaped by divine hands. This place felt too real, like a living world. The salt of the sea was in the wind. The sky stretched so cleanly blue.
Unless she could land the Blue-striped Bluru, then...
"What are you two talking about?"
Rita turned. It was Quex from Twilight Library.
Quex’s people were the Astral Phenona race, outwardly almost human. The only difference was the celestial display that constantly drifted above their heads.
Snow, rain, lightning, aurora, sandstorms, tornadoes...
It wasn’t romantic. They couldn’t hide it. Even invisible, the storm followed. Which ant stealth was never an option for their kind.
But there were tradeoffs. They were all natural-born mages, able to wield their phenona like weapons.
Today Quex was wreathed in snowflakes and frost, crouching down next to Rita with feline ease, arms braced against the planks. She grinned, tiger teeth flashing. "So the War-tier rod isn’t so unstoppable after all, huh?"
Rita lifted her gaze to Quex’s light brown eyes. "What are you trying to say?"
"I’m saying..." Quex’s smile widened, mischief sparking. "Maybe don’t run your mouth next ti. GodDraw77 isn’t yours to claim."
Rita’s expression didn’t change. She thought about pointing out that Moonlight Marsh had just taken the team championship, but the words stuck. She wasn’t in the mood.
Quex stared at her for a beat, perhaps disappointed by the lack of reaction. Then she chuckled and wandered off.
More challengers ca soon after, lining up to throw their barbs.
At last, the script Rita had joked about with Mistblade and the others played out. Taunts, sneers, posturing—all assuming she was finished, all jostling to be first in line to kick her down.
"For the next four years, GodDraw77 will be mine to command. Got the guts to say it back?"
"Your teacher is Lightchaser, right? Think she’s crying yet?"
"Just lucky, that’s all you are."
"Actually, your luck’s a little better than hers. At least you’ll know sooner that GodDraw77 was never yours. Less ti wasted crying."
The most ridiculous was Crab. It sidled up beside her, raised a claw, and said, "Give a Scratch Card and I won’t mock you."
Rita shoved it straight into the ocean.
Crab sputtered curses in bubbles.
She sat on the edge of the pier, legs dangling, pulling in fish and releasing them back one by one.
Mistblade, Maple Syrup, Fat Goose, Motor—they had all stopped by. Tongue-tied, awkward, unable to find the right words. They would sit beside her in silence, unsure who needed comfort more. In the end, she shooed them away.
Raccoon ca again, hand out. "Two cards for a tip."
Rita passed him two slips of parchnt.
"You know why they’re so bold about mocking you?" Raccoon asked.
"I’m waiting for you to tell ."
"Because nobody ever catches the Blue-striped Bluru. Every year, soone manages a Ghost Fish or a Jewel Zebra. But no one, not once, has landed the Bluru. You’re dood to lose."
...
"I don’t think I can keep watching," the sea spirit muttered in the stands.
"Why not?" asked Black Cat.
The spirit covered his eyes. "I ca for a laugh, but now... I’ve got that secondhand embarrassnt thing. If only she hadn’t said that line last year."
Black Cat scratched at her ear with a hind paw. "Oh, co on. Compared to the stuff Lightchaser used to say? That was nothing. Barely a tickle."
The spirit paused, lowering his hands. "...True. Lightchaser’s threats never spared her opponents’ pride."
"Or her teammates’," Black Cat added dryly.
Blood Elf exhaled. "I wonder what Lightchaser’s feeling right now."
"Probably already left, if she even showed up," said the sea spirit.
They murmured like that until the sun dipped toward the horizon over Golden Hills. The Kimbori in the fields began to glow, soft lights marking the twilight.
"The ga’s almost done," Blood Elf sighed. "I think I’ll go."
"There’s still half an hour," Black Cat said.
"I just wonder if Lightchaser’s still here," Blood Elf murmured.
...
The final thirty minutes.
A deep blue helm of a ship materialized before Rita, the sea itself gathering into its form.
Waste Guide.
The city hushed once more.
The jeers and taunts faded into silence.
She stood at the water’s edge, hesitating. Should she dive in, hunt the Bluru down, and jam the hook between its teeth?
One look at the sheer vastness of the ocean killed the thought. She could swim for ten days and never cover it all.
So she shouldered her rod and wandered the streets.
The sinking sun painted the clouds in burning shades of red and orange, as bright as her own embered wings.
What if she didn’t win?
Would Lightchaser pretend nothing had happened, or would those gray-blue eyes look at her with disappointnt?
Had she been watching? Or had she already turned her back and walked away?
Rita stopped at a notice board plastered with photos—fishern holding their rare catches, grinning at the lens. She had seen them once before, during ti stop. The photos were warded with magic, impossible to destroy or steal. You could rip them down and look, but they would always reappear on the board once you walked away.
She pulled them free one by one, flipping them over.
This ti, so had words on the back.
"I often wonder... am I fishing the fish, or are the fish fishing ?"
"To the rare ones, are we the anglers the true prize catch?"
"Blue-striped Bluru, Blue-striped Bluru, Blue-striped Bluru."
"The joy of fishing is found in waiting and in risk."
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