The dawn came slow and gray over Malt Town. The harbor was alive with gulls and dockhands, ropes creaking, sails snapping in the morning wind. Yet in the villa at the edge of town, the world still clung to the softness of night.
Jin Akasa awoke sprawled across his bedroll, the air still rich with the faint scent of Makino's cooking from the night before. He stretched, each muscle uncoiling with predatory ease, and listened. From one room came the faint rasp of steel against stone—Kuina sharpening her blade again, discipline never dulled. From another came the clink of glass bottles—Tina mixing her herbs. And from the kitchen came a soft hum, gentle and steady, unmistakably Makino's voice.
It had been half a month since he'd felt this. Home, even if only temporary.
He sat up, flexing his hand, remembering the weight of slaughter that had coated it days before. Then he smiled—feral, but softer than when he stood on battlefields. "Time to remind them they're mine."
Breakfast was a storm.
"Sit down already!" Makino scolded, trying to place bowls of steaming rice on the table while Jin darted after her like a wolf cub, lips pursed, demanding his prize.
"One kiss. That's all. A starving man deserves charity!" Jin declared, lunging.
Makino flushed, dodging behind the table, but he caught her wrist, pulling her close. Just as his lips brushed her cheek—smack!
The scabbard of Kuina's blade pressed against his head. "Eat first. Then die."
Jin winced theatrically, staggering back, clutching his temple. "Cruel women, all of you. My heart is too fragile for this abuse."
Tina leaned in the doorway, smirking. "Funny. Didn't look fragile when you left half an army headless."
That silenced the room for a heartbeat. Jin met her eyes, no shame there, only certainty. "Those men earned their graves. You three… you earn my protection."
Makino's cheeks warmed at the gravity beneath his jest. Kuina looked away first, biting back a retort. Tina clicked her tongue, but her smile lingered.
After breakfast, they gathered at the docks. Kuma was already waiting, his massive frame towering over the crates of supplies he'd packed. The bear's grin was wide, his paw clutching a half-eaten melon.
"Finally! About time we went after a real monster," Kuma said, juice dripping down his chin.
"Don't get too excited," Jin warned, hauling a coil of rope onto their ship. "This isn't some fat merchant or drunken pirate. The Inverse-Scale Horned Serpent has survived for centuries. If half the rumors are true, its scales shrug off cannon fire, and its fangs carry venom that kills in heartbeats."
Kuina's eyes lit like a blade catching sun. "Then I'll cut through scales, and you'll block the fangs. Fair trade."
Makino looked less amused. "And if neither of you succeed?"
Jin turned, his smile lazy, but his voice edged with steel. "Then I die happy, knowing I tried. But I don't plan to die yet."
The ship slipped free of Malt Town by noon. White sails bellied against the wind, carrying them east. The horizon stretched vast, the ocean endless.
On deck, Jin trained. Not in the brutish way of a rookie swinging a sword until sweat blinded him, but with slow, deliberate motions. He cut the air, again and again, refining the edge of his "Phantom Decapitation" technique. Each strike birthed shadows of himself, flickering illusions that darted around the deck before fading.
"Only eight copies…" he muttered, wiping his brow. "Still not enough."
Kuina watched from the rail, arms crossed. "It's already more than most swordsmen could dream of. But for you, it's never enough, is it?"
"Not until the world itself is forced to its knees," Jin said simply. His eyes, for a moment, were the same violet as when they had first met him—storm-tossed, merciless. Then the sharpness softened. "And not until I see you carve your way to the top of your sword path."
Kuina's cheeks flared crimson, but she masked it by drawing her blade and swinging, steel singing through salt air.
That night, the sea was calm. The crew gathered on deck beneath a canopy of stars, firelight flickering from a small brazier. Kuma gnawed fish bones. Kuina polished her sword. Tina traced a map, marking their course to Loguetown and then to the Serpent's lair.
Makino sat beside Jin, the two of them wrapped in silence. Finally, she spoke, voice barely above the waves. "Half a month you were gone. I… thought I'd grown used to waiting. But this time, I was afraid you wouldn't come back."
Jin's hand closed over hers, calloused warmth enveloping delicate fingers. He didn't joke, not this time. "I came back because I remembered your face. That's enough reason for me to survive."
Makino's lips parted, eyes wide at the rare rawness in his tone. Then she leaned into him, resting her head on his shoulder. For a moment, the warrior was just a man, and the tavern keeper was just a woman who loved him.
Tina noticed, arching a brow. "Well, well. If you're done turning the deck into your bedroom, we should plan."
Makino pulled away, flustered, while Jin chuckled low. "Jealousy doesn't suit you, Tina."
"Please," Tina scoffed, rolling the map. "If I wanted you, you wouldn't last the night."
"Promises, promises," Jin teased, and the crew laughed, tension breaking.
Two days later, the sea turned black. Clouds gathered, heavy and oppressive.
"There," Kuina said, pointing. Ahead, an island rose like a jagged tooth, its cliffs shrouded in mist. Trees clawed the sky, and from the heart of the island came a sound—a deep, thrumming bellow that rattled their bones.
The Serpent's domain.
Makino paled. "That… that doesn't sound like any beast I've heard before."
Jin grinned, drawing his blade. "Good. Then it's worth the fight."
The ship angled toward shore. The storm above thickened, as though the heavens themselves sought to warn them away. But Jin Akasa only laughed, a sound swallowed by thunder.
"East Blue's so-called king. Let's see if you bleed like the rest."
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T/N :
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