Gentle waves rock the boat in kuroka dxd. Naked under starlight, champagne forgotten, she straddles the railing. “The whole sea can watch kuroka dxd come,” she laughs, rubbing hard and fast. Salt spray mixes with her wetness as she chants “kuroka dxd… title… harder… title owns this ocean!” The yacht sways with her rhythm until the climax hits—she squirts into the dark water below, screaming “kuroka dxd!” across the endless horizon again and again.