Nojiko opened her mouth to speak, but didn't know where to begin, hiding her emotions even deeper.
Nami's bright brown eyes quickly filled with mist. She lifted her head stubbornly, refusing to let tears fall.
A tremor she hadn't even noticed herself slipped into her voice. "Then... can I go with you?"
Summoning all the courage she ever had, she almost shouted the words.
"I'm great at drawing maps. I can read the weather, I can help you set a course. I won't be a burden."
She strained to straighten her chest, trying to prove her worth to the man before her.
After witnessing a glimpse of the vast world Ryoma had shown, the seed of adventure in her heart was fully ignited.
Ryoma looked at her eager yet serious demeanor, his gentle smile unchanged. He didn't answer immediately but extended his hand again, this time not to pat but to lightly press on Nami's orange short hair.
"The sea is vast, Nami. It will test you, and it will shape you. But you must learn to run in the sunshine before you can challenge unknown storms."
His words were light, carrying a strange soothing power.
"Now you still need time—to learn, to grow, to draw the whole world with your pen."
Ryoma withdrew his hand, gazed solemnly into Nami's longing eyes, and made a solemn promise.
"When the maps you draw can guide ships through any storm, set sail for the Grand Line. We might meet there."
The promise was both a refusal and a hope.
Nami froze, processing Ryoma's words. The mist in her eyes finally condensed into tears that slid down her cheeks. The tears held less sorrow and more of a flame called purpose.
"Mm."
She nodded forcefully, her voice hoarse from choking but unusually resolute,
"I will become the best navigator! Absolutely!"
Ryoma smiled with satisfaction.
Before long, a familiar figure appeared on the hillside.
Bellemere, a cigarette dangling from her mouth, still walked with her usual carefree swagger, but an unnatural expression crossed her face. She approached Ryoma and handed him something wrapped in a handkerchief.
"Here… I'm returning this to you."
Bellemere's voice sounded a bit stiff. "You solved a huge problem for the village, we can't accept such a valuable item from you."
When the handkerchief was opened, the ornament Ryoma had used as room charge lay quietly inside.
Ryoma glanced at it, then waved his hand away, his attitude lazy yet firm. "Bellemere, you're looking down on my character."
He said half‑jokingly, "There's no reason to take back something I've given away. Consider it payment for the best tangerine jam I've eaten these past months."
He paused, then added, "Besides, I'm a bit superstitious—taking back a gift brings bad luck."
Bellemere stared at his serious expression, and the prepared barrage of excuses vanished instantly. She opened her mouth, but could only let out a helpless sigh and tucked the ornament away again.
"You…"
She muttered, completely abandoning the idea of returning it.
When they returned to the village, the villagers had already voluntarily prepared everything for Ryoma. They couldn't repay Ryoma for saving the whole village, so they expressed gratitude in the simplest way.
The best single‑mast sailboat in the village was pushed to the dock, its hull spotless and its sail brand‑new.
The cabin was packed with supplies—enough fresh water and food for months of sailing, plus several large barrels of Bellemere's special tangerine jam and treasured wine.
"Ryoma-san, please accept this small token of our appreciation."
Genzo stepped forward at the right moment, representing all the villagers, and bowed deeply to Ryoma.
"Indeed. Without you, we'd probably be…"
"We have nothing grand to give you, just this small boat. Please don't disdain it."
Villagers voiced their thanks in a chorus, each humble face full of sincerity.
Ryoma was moved by the scene.
He wasn't a reckless good Samaritan. Part of his help was for his own purse, but he couldn't refuse such pure goodwill.
"Then I won't be modest."
Ryoma laughed brightly and leapt onto the compact yet sturdy sailboat.
He inspected the vessel, satisfied with its performance—small but fully equipped, easily handled by a single person.
Ryoma extended a finger, sketching in the air. The moisture in the air quickly condensed, forming a thin ice flag in his hand.
Immediately, a strange emblem appeared on the ice flag—a winged fairy with a slightly upturned tail, exuding agility and mystery. With a casual flick, the flag flew to the top of the mast, firmly fixed, fluttering in the sea breeze.
"What… is that a pirate flag?" a child asked curiously.
"No."
Ryoma stood at the bow facing the wind, the flag rustling behind him.
"It's a family's emblem."
He then untied the rope and steered the sailboat slowly away from the harbor.
"Everyone, take care!"
"Ryoma-san, fair winds!"
Villagers on the shore waved vigorously.
Nami and Nojiko stood at the front, while Bellemere silently smoked, the haze curling around her face.
Nami didn't cry, she simply widened her bright eyes, trying to imprint the strange flag and the departing figure in her mind.
The sailboat soon became a tiny black dot on the horizon, eventually disappearing.
News of the Arlong Pirates' defeat spread across the sea with astonishing speed.
Countless islands oppressed by Arlong erupted in delayed cheers, while the East Blue Marines and various factions were shocked and curious about this suddenly emerged strongman.
At this moment, the mastermind behind it all, Ryoma, lounged leisurely beside the helm. He spread out a sea chart he'd obtained from Cocoyasi Village, his finger tracing the upcoming route.
"Branch 16… huh, Colonel Mouse."
Thinking of that greedy, sleazy, and foolish guy gave Ryoma a headache. Sending Arlong's head to him would surely cause a lot of trouble.
He was after a bounty, not to play mind games with scum.
Dealing with those people only adds trouble. If he gets framed again and a bounty is placed on him, the fun would be over.
"Branch 77… hmm, that's the direction."
Compared to that, Branch 77 seemed far more reliable.
In Ryoma's memory, the commander of that branch appeared to be a fairly righteous officer. Apparently, in the original timeline, that commander led a fleet to attack in order to free towns enslaved by Arlong. Although the fleet was wiped out due to the power gap, the courage was respectable.
Dealing with such a person is easier than squabbling with a fat rat.
Ryoma calculated, adjusting the helm single‑handed.
The sun was perfect and the sea breeze gentle.
Unfortunately, good times are always brief.
Before he could enjoy it long, a ship's silhouette slowly appeared at the edge of his perception.
Ryoma squinted, trying to discern it.
It was a Marine warship. Besides the iconic seagull‑scale emblem on its sail, two large black numbers "16" were painted.
Seeing those numbers made Ryoma's temples throb.
What a case of "bring it on!"
The East Blue is vast and routes are countless—how did he end up colliding with this ship?
Did his protagonist aura automatically switch to trouble‑magnet mode?
Can't even dodge it?
He ranted in his mind, but his hands didn't lag.
Ryoma yanked the helm sharply. The tiny sailboat arced across the sea, steering away from the warship's path.
He really didn't want trouble but things didn't go as planned.
Just as he finished adjusting course, the warship also turned its bow, heading straight for his little boat.