The storm is disastrous as it crudely weathers the boat with high and crushing arches of black, salty sea, lightning and thunder thrashing about like God’s drunken fists lost in the fury of a melee; the world submerges into endless bouts of electric white.

Komui holds his bone white hands to his drowning chest in mock prayer, his eyes are open frighteningly wide and never waver from his destination; the home for his heart which is neither land nor a house but his precious and beautiful sister which he will never fail again, goddammit!

And just when his stubborn eyes feel weary, he and his world is consumed and turned ethereal with blue fire --sapphire colours and banishes the death from his skin and mind-- so he gets up (God be damned as only Nature gives a toss) from his dark corner to make a miracle happen with his own two human hands.

_{To Chinese white is the colour of death. I also like to believe that Komui is brilliant enough to know that St. Elmo's fire has a scientific explanation.}