Kyuka Island.
This tropical island located in Paradise, the first half of the Grand Line, was completely a sun-kissed vacation paradise.
Hotels with blue roofs and white walls lined the coast, their carved archways covered in bougainvillea. The outdoor swimming pools shimmered with sparkling ripples, while the distant mountain peaks were crowned with dense green foliage. Between the branches of the thousand-year-old ancient tree at the summit, one could even spot several suspended treehouse structures.
Ryan lounged on a deck chair by the hotel pool, wearing only a pair of loose dark shorts. As he raised his hand, the contours of his arms and abdomen shifted subtly, the cross-shaped scar on his left chest particularly prominent, silently telling of some past life-and-death struggle.
Exhaling a slow smoke ring, he watched the frolicking crowd in the pool with detached amusement, a faint, almost-smile playing at the corners of his mouth as he sank into the leisure of vacation.
"Need some ice?" Miss. Valentine, also known as Mikita, approached carrying an ice bucket. Dressed in a bright yellow bikini with an asymmetrical ruffled hem that just covered the tops of her thighs, she revealed her pale, slender legs. As she bent over to add ice to Ryan's juice, the curve of her waist and hips traced a striking silhouette in the sunlight. She deliberately leaned closer to Ryan.
Without looking up, Ryan reached out and gave Mikita's waist a light pinch, his tone carrying a lazy, roguish quality: "No need."
Mikita let out a soft "Ah!", her face flushing, but she intentionally bumped Ryan with her shoulder: "I was kindly getting you ice, and you take advantage."
Though her words said one thing, her eyes showed no real anger, instead holding a mischievous glint of amusement.
Over their days together, Mikita had gradually figured out some patterns - as long as she obediently followed instructions and kept this man comfortable, he was actually quite easy to get along with. So Mikita had long shed her initial reserve, all her flirtatious tendencies now surfacing.
Mikita settled into the deck chair beside him, but her eyes drifted toward a blonde woman nearby who was holding a cocktail and batting her eyes at Ryan. Her lips pursed so tightly they could've held an oil bottle, and she muttered under her breath: "No matter how provocatively she dresses, you can tell she's empty-headed just by looking at her..."
Only then did Ryan glance up, hooking a finger under Mikita's chin with a frivolous smile: "What's this? Jealous?"
"Who's jealous? I'm just worried these clueless women will disturb your peace." Mikita swatted Ryan's hand away and leaned back against the chair, deliberately raising her voice: "Look at that woman, her cocktail's about to spill from all her winking and batting eyelashes, as if she's not making it obvious enough she wants to cling to you!"
The sour grapes in her tone were nearly overflowing, yet she couldn't help edging closer to him, her shoulder almost touching his arm, unaware of the undeniable possessiveness in her voice.
Ryan chuckled softly, unbothered by Mikita's flirtatious behavior. To him, Mikita had a good figure, was pretty, and obedient - that was already enough.
"Let's check out the ships at the port this afternoon." Ryan said suddenly, toying with a strand of Mikita's hair that fell over her shoulder.
"What are we going to the port for?" Mikita asked, momentarily confused.
"To get a ship, of course." Ryan said, his hand sliding down to give Mikita's waist a meaningful squeeze: "Did you really think you could keep riding on me forever?"
Although he could fly, hovering in the sky with another person wasn't practical—the high-altitude winds were harsh and noisy. Having a ship would allow for docking and resupplying anytime, while also enabling leisurely sightseeing. It'd be nice to savor the journey's scenery at a relaxed pace.
Preferably a sturdy ship, one that could withstand Ryan's occasional loss of control over his strength...
"Stop it!" Mikita blushed, swatting Ryan's hand away as she shot him a reproachful glare. Her eyes, however, darted toward the tourists splashing in the water nearby, and she lowered her voice. "So many people are watching. Can't you be serious?"
Just then, Ryan suddenly furrowed his brow, his gaze sharpening as he scanned toward the hotel entrance. The once-bustling pool area had fallen silent without anyone noticing, with tourists rising to their feet, their faces a mix of panic and curiosity, as they retreated to either side.
A series of synchronized footsteps grew louder, and dozens of Marines in uniform marched in formation, their rifles aimed directly at Ryan and his companions by the pool. They quickly formed a tight encirclement.
The crowd parted to make way as a tall, poised female Marine stepped forward. She had sleek, shoulder-length pastel pink hair parted in the middle and wore purple-tinted sunglasses that obscured part of her eyes, adding to her cool demeanor. A cigarette dangled from her lips, wisps of smoke curling upward, lending her an air of lazy dominance.
Dressed in a rose-red professional suit, she wore the Marines' Justice cloak over it and sported deep purple gloves. Her entire appearance was both efficient and highly distinctive, with a curvaceous figure that her professional attire couldn't conceal.
This was Marine Headquarters Captain Hina, known as the "Black Prison."
Hina stepped to the front, came to a halt, and removed her sunglasses, revealing sharp eyes that fixed on Ryan—particularly the prominent cross-shaped scar on his chest. Her gaze tightened slightly before she spoke coldly, her voice clear and forceful.
"Wanderer—Ryan, you attacked Marine Branch 153 and have a bounty of 60 million Belly. Hina is here to arrest you."
Ryan raised an eyebrow, glanced at Hina, and curled his lips into a mocking smile. "The Marines really are everywhere. Can't even take a vacation without you hunting Pirates."
The downside of being wanted was now fully apparent—wherever he went, he could be targeted, and even a moment's peace had become a luxury. His good mood shattered instantly.
"Hina came to Nuka Island for a relaxing vacation. She didn't expect to run into a wanted criminal like you." Hina took a drag from her cigarette, exhaled a smoke ring, and said slowly, "But since Hina has encountered you, she has no reason to let you go!"
Mikita paled, instinctively tightening her grip on Ryan's arm, inwardly lamenting their misfortune.
They had just enjoyed a brief moment of peace on Nuka Island, only to be surrounded by Marines—and by Hina, no less, famed for her "Black Prison" abilities.
The Marine soldiers raised their rifles and barked, "Don't move! Surrender immediately!"
Hina raised a hand, signaling the soldiers to stand down. She stared at Ryan, her eyes filled with vigilance, and spoke again, "Wanderer—Ryan, Hina knows you have some skills. But in front of Hina, you'd better surrender quietly to avoid unnecessary suffering."
The atmosphere by the pool froze instantly, as if even the sea breeze had ceased to blow.
Ryan's fingers lightly traced Mikita's skin as his gaze swept over the Marines standing guard around them, his eyes gradually turning cold. Hina maintained a vigilant stance, her pale pink hair swaying slightly in the wind, the cigarette at the corner of her lips glowing intermittently as she and Ryan engaged in a silent standoff.
The surrounding tourists had long held their breath. Some quietly retreated into the hotel lobby, while others covered their mouths, not daring to make a sound, watching the figures in the center of the pool from afar, their hearts suspended in tension.
No one could predict whether a storm that would engulf all of Kyuka Island would erupt in the next moment.
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