They left Blackrock at dawn the next day, before the island was fully awake.
The small boat slipped out of the hidden cove in almost total silence. Elian rowed through the first hours without a word. The sky was still dark to the east, barely tinged with pink along the horizon. Shikamaru, seated at the stern, watched the water with his usual half-lidded eyes, his hands buried in his pockets.
They didn't talk about what had happened the night before. Not right away. The East Blue sea was calm, indifferent, as always. The waves lapped against the hull in a steady rhythm, almost soothing.
It wasn't until mid-morning that Shikamaru broke the silence.
"You didn't sleep."
It wasn't a question.
Elian kept rowing for a few seconds before answering.
"No."
Shikamaru said nothing. He turned his head slightly toward the horizon, as if silently calculating something.
The crossing lasted two days. They took turns at the oars, ate little, slept in shifts. From time to time, Elian looked at his hands—the same hands that had held the shuriken that night on the terrace. They weren't shaking. That was what surprised him the most.
The warmth in his chest was still there. Constant. Quiet.
Low-Mist appeared on the morning of the third day, wrapped in its usual mist.
The harbor was slowly coming to life: fishermen, merchants, a few idle sailors. No one paid them any attention as they moored their small boat at the end of the dock.
They found Tomas at the warehouse he rented not far from there. The merchant was overseeing the unloading of his latest crates when he spotted them. He froze. His face flickered through several emotions in an instant—surprise, relief, then something heavier.
He walked toward them without hesitation, his voice low.
"Is it done?"
Shikamaru looked at him with his half-lidded eyes.
"It's done."
Tomas exhaled slowly, as if he had been holding that breath for several days. He nodded, slipped a hand into his coat, and pulled out a well-filled pouch, which he handed to Elian without ceremony.
"400,000 Berries. The remainder, as agreed."
Elian took the pouch calmly. He weighed it briefly in his palm—it was heavy, tangible—then slipped it into his inner pocket.
Tomas remained silent for a moment, his eyes fixed on the wooden planks of the dock. Then he cleared his throat.
"I won't ask how it happened. I'd rather not know."
"Wise," Shikamaru murmured.
They parted there, without ceremony. Tomas returned to his men. Elian and Shikamaru walked away toward the covered market, carrying with them the silence and the weight of what had just been done.
They settled at a small table set apart in a tavern open to the harbor. Two bowls of hot soup, few words. Shikamaru took out the pouches and counted with his usual slowness.
"250,000 to start. 500,000 from the escort mission. 400,000 from Tomas. Minus the 100,000 spent on the inn and supplies." He paused briefly. "That leaves us with 1,050,000 Berries."
He placed the pouches between them.
"Half for the Shop. The other half for the road."
Elian nodded slowly. A little over 500,000 for the system, the same amount to keep going. He mentally set aside his Shop share without opening it. His chakra reserves were stable, his shuriken sufficient for now. It wasn't the right time to spend—not here, not now. He would wait to see what Isla Roja demanded of them before deciding.
Shikamaru, for his part, asked no questions. He unfolded a map on the table and placed his finger on a point to the southeast.
"Isla Roja. A medium-sized island. Maritime market, cheap inns." He paused. "And a certain pirate captain by the name of Brek."
Elian looked up.
"You heard about him here?"
"A sailor was talking about him this morning at the dock. Brek and his crew have taken control of the island over the past few weeks. They're extorting merchants, taxing ships coming in and out." Shikamaru folded the map with his usual unhurried ease. "A bounty of 4.8 million Berries. Not a big name. But enough to cause damage in a place this isolated."
Elian remained silent for a moment, feeling the decision quietly take shape within him.
"The local merchants will pay if we take care of it?"
"Probably. In these parts of the East Blue, people are usually willing to pay to get a bit of peace back."
Elian looked out at the sea through the open front of the tavern. The wind blew gently, carrying the scent of salt and wet wood.
"Then we're going."
Shikamaru let out a long sigh, as if it were the most troublesome thing he had ever been asked to do.
"Obviously."
They finished their soup, paid, and returned to the dock to prepare for departure. The sun was already beginning to dip toward the horizon, tinting the sea with a calm, golden light.
Low-Mist would disappear behind them before nightfall.
Ahead of them, Isla Roja awaited.
***
The crossing to Isla Roja lasted three days.
The East Blue sea remained gentle, almost too calm, as if it wanted to grant them one last moment of peace before what lay ahead. Elian and Shikamaru took turns at the oars, spoke little, observed a lot. The sky shifted slowly over the hours—pale blue in the morning, golden in the late afternoon, then deep violet as night fell over the water.
On the evening of the second day, as the boat drifted gently beneath a star-filled sky, Shikamaru spoke from the stern, his half-lidded eyes turned toward the horizon.
"Brek. I asked around before we left." He paused. "Captain of a small crew of about fifteen men. He took Isla Roja about a month ago, without resistance. The inhabitants are merchants, fishermen. No one to stand against him."
Elian listened without interrupting.
"He set up a tax on everything coming in and out of the port. Those who refuse to pay… he burns their stock. Those who resist…" Shikamaru let the sentence hang. "He's not particularly intelligent. Just brutal. And brutality, in a place without defenses, is enough."
Elian kept his eyes on the dark water.
"How many men does he keep on the island at all times?"
"About ten at the port. Him and four or five others sleep in the large inn he requisitioned in the center of the town. His ship is anchored in the bay." Shikamaru closed his eyes completely for a moment, as if visualizing something. "This isn't Varek. Varek was alone, isolated, predictable. Brek has men around him at all times. We'll have to be more careful."
Elian nodded slowly. He felt the steady warmth in his chest, the familiar weight of the shuriken at his belt.
"We observe first."
"Obviously," Shikamaru murmured.
***
Isla Roja appeared on the morning of the third day.
It was a larger island than Low-Mist, with low ochre-colored cliffs that had likely given it its name. Dense vegetation covered the inland areas, and a modest town stretched along a well-sheltered natural harbor. Fishing boats were lined up along the shore, motionless—too motionless for that hour of the morning.
Elian observed the scene from the front of their boat. Something weighed on the island, an invisible but perceptible heaviness. The docks were nearly deserted. Two armed men stood guard at the entrance to the harbor, leaning against a post, looking bored but present.
Shikamaru saw them as well.
"We don't go in like suspicious strangers," he murmured. "We're merchants making a stop. Nothing more."
They moored their boat without hurry. One of the guards approached, his hand resting on the hilt of his saber.
"Entry fee. 20,000 Berries per boat."
Shikamaru looked at him with his half-lidded eyes, without the slightest expression.
"20,000 Berries for a fishing skiff?"
"That's Captain Brek's rate. You pay, or you leave."
Shikamaru took out the Berries with an almost insulting slowness and placed them in the outstretched hand without a word. The guard counted them, signaled to his companion, and they passed without further formality.
Elian said nothing. But he noted everything—the way the guard held his saber, the distance between the two men, the layout of the buildings along the dock.
***
The town of Isla Roja must have been lively once. The facades were colorful, the streets wide, the central market well placed. But that morning, the stalls were half empty, the inhabitants walked quickly and kept their eyes down. Two of Brek's men lingered in front of a shop, eating without paying, ignoring the owner who looked away.
Elian and Shikamaru moved through the market slowly, like two travelers with no particular interest. They stopped at a provisions stall and bought a few supplies. The woman running the stand handed back the change with slightly trembling hands.
Elian took his pouch calmly, then asked in a low voice, without looking at her:
"The main inn. Which one is it?"
The woman hesitated for a fraction of a second.
"The Red Pelican. At the end of the main street. But…" She stopped, casting a quick glance around her. "Don't go there. That's where Brek and his men sleep."
"Thank you," Elian said simply.
They walked away without looking back.
***
They found a small boarding house run by a deaf old man at the end of a narrow alley. Two nights, paid in advance, no questions asked. The room was cramped but clean, with a window overlooking the rooftops.
Shikamaru sat on the edge of the bed and unfolded his map across his knees. Elian took a place by the window, watching the street below.
"The Red Pelican is two hundred meters from here," Shikamaru murmured. "Brek apparently goes out every morning to inspect the port himself. He likes to be seen. It makes him feel important."
"How many men accompany him?"
"Two or three, depending on the day. The others stay at the port or are still sleeping at that hour." He placed a finger on the map. "The alley behind the market leads directly onto the route he takes. It's narrow, not very busy in the morning."
Elian remained silent for a long moment, his eyes on the street.
"We don't do it like Varek," he said at last. "Varek was alone. Here, if Brek disappears without his men being dealt with, they'll terrorize the inhabitants in retaliation."
Shikamaru glanced at him. A faint satisfaction crossed his half-lidded eyes, almost imperceptible.
"Exactly. So we think about what comes after."
"We deal with his men at the port first. Isolate them. Then we take care of him."
"It'll be more complex than Blackrock," Shikamaru said evenly. "More variables. But you're right on the principle." He folded the map. "We observe for another day. Count the men, identify their habits. And tomorrow, at dawn, we act."
Elian nodded. He could feel the warmth in his chest, steady and patient, as if it too were waiting.
Outside, the sun was beginning to set over Isla Roja, tinting the ochre facades with a red and golden light.
The island was holding its breath.
They would free it tomorrow.