Chapter 474: Bon Voyage!
"Iiyer~~ yah-ha—!"
"In the moonlight shining bright————"
Ren suddenly burst into song, picking up Guevara's sea shanty.
He tapped his palm against the leather surface of the sofa, creating a dull
thump-thump rhythm to serve as a beat, laughing as he sang.
"Iiyer yah-ha~! Weigh the anchor—"
Seeing that the surrounding friends had all frozen in shock, Ren simply raised
his chin, cueing them in with a glance as he hammered out the rhythm with even
greater enthusiasm.
The first to respond was [The Umibozu] Yoshinari Karo. In a deep, resonant,
middle-aged baritone, he chimed in right on the beat alongside Ren.
"Iiyer yah-ha~! In the middle of a stormy night——"
Deeply satisfied, Ren shifted his gaze, beating the rhythm harder to pull more
people into the circle.
Fusui Kure gently clapped her hands together, picking up the tempo.
"Iiyer yah-ha~! Hoist the mainsail——"
As the young girl's voice rang out, the rest of the crew finally caught on.
[The Ice Emperor] Ryo Inaba and [The Wild Tiger] Takeshi Wakatsuki exchanged
glances; Inaba began snapping his fingers while Wakatsuki tapped his heavy boot
against the dirt.
Clap-clap, thump-thump!
"Iiyer yah-ha~! With the stars to guide our way————"
"Iiyer yah-ha~! Chasing treasure day by day—"
As the two of them finished their line, [The Ashura] Tokita Niko joined the
applause. "Iiyer yah-ha~! Save the rum until we're back ashore————"
Next, Ren cast a pointed look toward [The Monster] Raian Kure.
Raian let out a tiny, irritated "Tch," but ultimately chose not to break the
rhythm, merely turning his head away so nobody could see his face. "Iiyer
yah-ha!"
[The Devil Lance] Gensai Kuroki clearly wasn't much of a singer, but his pitch
control was dead-on.
"Heat the iron, stoke the core——!"
"..."
Seeing how things were going, [The Unchained] Biscuit Oliva caught on as well,
lifting an eyebrow with an embarrassed, good-natured smile.
So much for his earlier claim of "we can't hear Guevara's song anymore"—they
could hear it loud and clear, couldn't they?
Oliva joined in with a low, rumbling hum.
"Discard humility and courtesy—throw away patience and silence!—Iiyer yah-ha!"
The rhythm-heavy sea shanty inevitably caught the attention of the other
denizens lingering around the perimeter.
Drawn in by the infectious, catchy tune, they naturally began to harmonize,
adding their own voices to the chorus.
"In the moonlight shining bright, weigh the anchor; in the middle of a stormy
night, hoist the mainsail; with the stars to guide our way, chasing treasure day
by day————"
The voices grew richer and more complex, yet the melody remained crisp, warm,
and intensely vibrant—making everyone feel as though they had just downed a few
mugs of strong rum, sending a cozy warmth surging through their veins.
The rolling shanty transformed the ruined plaza into a sea of laughter and
noise, resembling a lively beachside bonfire party.
Ren swept his gaze across the gathering, listening to the song.
Come to think of it... this counts as another form of 'staking my ground,'
doesn't it?
—Staking my ground right here in The Inside, right in the hearts of the people
who live here.
Over by the edge of the plaza, An Sakurai was busy wrapping up Guevara's field
bandages.
Listening to the escalating commotion of the song, she shook her head with an
amused sigh. "The stretcher's all ready. Do you want me to carry you somewhere
quiet to rest?"
"——No, it's fine."
Guevara's eyes were half-closed. The ogre warpaint had been wiped clean, leaving
behind a scattering of fresh scrapes and bruises across his skin, yet his
expression radiated absolute contentment, like a man who had just enjoyed the
deepest sleep of his life.
He smiled softly. "To me... this noise sounds wonderful."
The following day, in the gray pre-dawn light.
Before the sun had even broken the horizon, a lone figure was walking down the
quiet streets of The Inside.
He was dressed in durable trousers with a bandana tied securely around his
forehead. His upper body was heavily wrapped in medical bandages, and his
utility jacket was draped loosely across his shoulders, fluttering softly in the
morning breeze.
——None other than [The Second] J. Guevara.
He had woken up early, deliberately avoiding farewells, and was heading straight
toward the exit of the Tokita Niko District to slip out of The Inside quietly.
The fight was over; a free man went where he pleased without needing to make a
grand production of leaving.
However, The Inside was a densely populated zone. No matter how early one woke
up, someone was bound to notice.
——
——
An early-rising gang member rounded the street corner, blinking in surprise.
"Boss, why are you taking this route? Are you heading out?"
"Ah——"
Guevara offered a helpless shrug. "Actually, I was hoping to—"
"Oh!"
The gang member slapped his forehead in realization. "I forgot, you're not
actually from The Inside, are you? Are you heading home now that the fight's
over?"
Guevara drew in a breath, breaking into a genuine smile as he nodded. "Yeah,
time to head home."
The gang member didn't press further. "It's a shame you aren't sticking around
longer, but anyway—bon voyage, Boss! Come back and visit The Inside whenever
you've got time!"
"Oh——right, sounds good."
Guevara waved farewell with a smile, parting ways with the thug.
Yet, once the word got out, a growing number of residents caught wind of his
impending departure and started trickling out onto the street to wish him well.
"See ya later, Boss!"
"You holding up okay? That fight yesterday was unreal!"
"Mr. President! The greatest pirate alive!"
"Bon voyage!"
"..."
Strong fighters were always popular, doubly so in a lawless realm like The
Inside. Consequently, well-wishers kept appearing one after another.
The send-off quickly grew into a lively gathering, completely derailing
Guevara's original plan for a quiet, stealthy exit, even leaving him slightly
unaccustomed to the fuss.
Curiously, however, Guevara found his chest warming with an unfamiliar
lightness, a broad smile tugging naturally at the corners of his mouth.
"..."
Finally, when Guevara reached the outer perimeter wall of the Tokita Niko
District, the sight waiting for him at the exit gate made him stop dead in his
tracks.
——?
He certainly hadn't expected a massive delegation to be waiting there to see him
off.
A mix of gang members, local residents, mercenaries, and—of course—
Ren Shiroki, Fusui Kure, Takeshi Wakatsuki, Ryo Inaba, Yoshinari Karo, Tokita
Niko, Gensai Kuroki, Raian Kure, and Biscuit Oliva.
They had all gathered together, lining both sides of the exit corridor to give
Guevara a proper send-off.
"Ha-ah!"
Ren let out a tired yawn, wiping a lingering tear from the corner of his eye as
he smiled at Guevara, his body still wrapped in bandages and covered in fading
bruises.
"Mr. Guevara, you're starting way too early! I'm half-dead from lack of sleep
here..."
He reached into his pocket, pulled out a business card for the Soul Combat Hub,
and shoved it directly into Guevara's pocket as a memento of their encounter in
The Inside.
Guevara: "————"
Guevara: "Haha————"
He patted his pocket, rubbing the back of his neck with a sheepish, helpless
grin. "My bad, I honestly didn't mean to wake everybody up."
Oliva blinked his left eye with a smooth wink. "Mr. Guevara, caution may be a
virtue, but you can afford to be a bit more generous with your friends!"
Guevara's expression settled back into its usual breezy poise as he arched an
eyebrow. "If I have any lingering regret, it's that I didn't get to trade blows
with you—the first-generation [Unchained]."
Oliva bared his teeth in a wide grin. "My door at Arizona State Penitentiary is
always open to you. I'll make sure the warden leaves the front gate unlocked."
"——Sounds like a plan."
With that, Guevara reached into his utility pocket and pulled out two sealed
envelopes, with Ren's and Oliva's respective names written across the fronts.
"I was planning to leave these hanging on the gate for you to pick up later, but
since you're all here, I might as well hand them over personally. A little
parting gift."
"..."
"..."
Ren and Oliva accepted the envelopes, tearing them open to find a pair of
hundred-dollar bills inside—though not US currency; the bills bore Guevara's
face stamped right across the front.
Oliva flipped his bill over to inspect it. "Paper currency? Isn't this your home
island's exclusive legal tender?"
"Nice. That's perfect!"
Ren carefully tucked Guevara's currency away, securing a brand-new,
premium-grade souvenir.
"There's only one place on earth where you can spend this, so basically... is
this an invitation ticket to your island?"
"..."
Nobody answered.
Ren and Oliva turned their heads, only to find that Guevara had already turned
his back, walking steadily down the far end of the corridor while tossing a
casual wave over his shoulder.
"Drop by my home gym whenever you're in the neighborhood. See ya!"
"——Goodbye~!"
"Oh! Until next time!"
And just like that, [The Second] J. Guevara departed from The Inside.
Twenty-four hours later.
On an independent tropical island in South America, a dozen lumberjacks were
busy clearing timber.
They were all using modern chainsaws, save for a single massive tree trunk where
an old steel axe remained deeply embedded, its blade buried halfway into the
wood.
Vines had already begun winding their way up the wooden handle, signaling that
the tool had been left abandoned there for quite some time without anyone
touching it.
Right at that moment, a pair of hands suddenly seized the handle, wrenching the
axe free from the trunk before resuming the grueling physical labor of felling
timber.
Thud! Thud! Thud————
"——???"
Noticing the commotion, the other lumberjacks turned around—and froze in
absolute astonishment.
It was Guevara!
Their island's president had returned!
The lumberjacks swarmed around him, wearing expressions of total bafflement as
they laughed and shouted over one another.
"Where the hell have you been, Boss?!"
"You said you were just stepping away to use the bathroom, but you've been gone
for over a month! That's cutting it a bit close, don't you think—"
"You even left your axe stuck in the tree!"
"..."
Looking around at those familiar, sun-baked faces, Guevara finally let his
shoulders drop into total relaxation with a casual, off-hand shrug. "Oh, I went
out looking for someone."
The lumberjacks looked blank. "Looking... for someone?"
Guevara raised an eyebrow, offering a hint. "I went to go find Oliva."
At that, the lumberjacks suddenly recalled a "trivial conversation" that had
taken place over a month ago.
Back then, while everyone was taking a break, one of the loggers had casually
brought up a certain name.
"[Mr. Unchained] Biscuit Oliva——"
"Word is, he's the strongest brawler in the whole United States. His arms are
seventy centimeters across, and his whole body is built out of giant mountains
of muscle!"
"Hey, Boss, d'ya think you could take him in a fight?"
Guevara's response back then had been: " Guess I'll just have to go find out..."
To put it bluntly, it had been nothing more than idle locker-room chatter. Not a
single soul had taken those words seriously.
Except for Guevara himself.
He had actually gone out to find Oliva, purely to test his strength against him!
Bringing his thoughts back to the present.
——
——
Connecting the dots, the lumberjacks broke into gasps of realization.
"—!? Boss, did you actually go find Oliva? Did you fight him??"
"And... well?"
The loggers couldn't hide their burning curiosity. "That Biscuit Oliva guy...
what's he like—? Did you win, Boss?"
Guevara's eyes softened into a nostalgic squint as he prepped to recount his
grand adventure. "——Nah, we didn't end up fighting. I ended up crossing paths
with another guy instead—"
Before he could finish, a bald lumberjack suddenly smacked his forehead in
remembrance, cutting him off with frantic excitement. "Oh! Right, right,
right——!"
The bald man pointed toward a dark-skinned companion. "Boss, this guy's got
another kid! Twins, this time!"
"?"
Guevara blinked, counting on his fingers. "Twins...? Wait, hold on. How many
kids does that make for you now?"
The dark-skinned man offered a sheepish, embarrassed grin, scratching the back
of his head. "Nine now, hehe————"
Guevara raised an eyebrow, bursting into laughter. "Isn't that getting a bit
excessive?!"
"..."
Once the floodgates of small-town gossip opened, there was no shutting them. A
mountain of trivial daily updates poured in all at once.
"Oh, speaking of which, Sarah-granny's pig—"
"Right, right! It's still constipated!"
"Huh? I remember it had that issue last month too—"
"Exactly! What the hell are they feeding that thing?!"
"Hahahaha!"
"..."
The endless stream of mundane island chatter washed over him, effortlessly
crowding out whatever grand story Guevara had been about to tell.
What was it he had been about to say again?
Ah, whatever. He could figure it out another time.
After all, he didn't want any grand tales diluting the simple, grounded joy of
living in the present right this second——
"..."
"Though the rising wind blows fierce—abandon hope of surrender!"
☆☆☆
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