Night fell gently over Isla Roja.
Elian didn't fall asleep right away. He remained seated by the window, his arms crossed over his knees, watching the street below. From time to time, a figure passed by — one of Brek's men, recognizable by his casual stride and the weapon visible at his belt. They patrolled without really patrolling, convinced that no one would dare resist them.
Shikamaru was asleep on the bed, his hands folded over his stomach, his breathing slow and steady. Even asleep, he seemed to be calculating something.
Elian eventually lay down on the floor, his eyes open in the darkness. He thought about the explosive tags tucked inside his inner pocket — five thin rectangles of paper covered in symbols, which he had never used in a real situation. He had handled them during the crossing, learned how to hold them, how to estimate their blast radius. But holding them and using them were two different things.
He fell asleep late, without even realizing it.
***
The next morning, the sky was still gray when he stepped out alone.
Shikamaru had opened one eye at the sound of the door.
"Where are you going?"
"To observe the port. I'll be back before Brek comes out."
A silence.
"Don't draw attention to yourself."
Elian closed the door without answering.
The alleys of Isla Roja were almost deserted at that hour. A few shutters cracked open, only to close again immediately. The air smelled of dried fish and damp stone. Elian walked slowly, his hands in his pockets, like a traveler with no particular destination.
It was at the corner of the market that he saw him.
A child, maybe eight or nine years old, sitting on the steps of a closed shop. He held a piece of stale bread that he chewed without appetite, his eyes staring into nothing. He was barefoot despite the morning chill, his clothes too big for him, his knees covered in dust.
Elian stopped. The child looked up at him — brown eyes, wary, eyes that had long since learned to quickly judge whether a stranger was dangerous or not.
Elian crouched down at a respectful distance.
"Do you live here?"
The child didn't answer right away. Then, in a flat voice:
"My mother runs the fabric shop. Brek took all the stock last week. She's been sick since."
Elian said nothing for a moment. He pulled a piece of dry bread from his pocket — one he had slipped in there that morning — and placed it on the step, halfway between them.
"How does Brek organize things? What time does he come out?"
The child looked at the bread, then at Elian. The wariness in his eyes shifted into something else — not quite trust, but something close to it.
"Every morning, just after sunrise. He walks around the port with two of his men. He likes people to see him." He paused. "He also has three men who sleep in front of the inn at night. And two more at the end of the pier."
"What floor does he sleep on, in the inn?"
"The second. The big room facing the street."
Elian nodded slowly. He stood up without adding a word, then took a few steps before stopping.
"Go home this morning. Stay inside with your mother."
The child watched him leave in silence, the piece of bread in his hand.
***
Shikamaru was standing when Elian returned. He listened without interrupting, his eyes half-closed, his back against the wall.
When Elian finished, he remained silent for a long moment.
"Three men in front of the inn at night, two at the end of the pier, two more on patrol." He let the silence settle. "And Brek comes out just after sunrise with two guards."
"We move this morning," Elian said. "Not tonight. This morning."
Shikamaru glanced at him. Something in his half-lidded eyes resembled approval.
"Explain."
"The men at the port are still half asleep at that hour. Brek comes out in less than an hour through the alley behind the market — it's narrow, not very busy. I'll create a diversion with the tags. While his two guards react, you take them out. I'll handle Brek."
A silence.
"Alone?" Shikamaru asked.
"Alone."
Shikamaru exhaled slowly, like someone who had just calculated every probability and resigned himself to the outcome.
"Don't miss with the tags. Too wide a blast radius and you'll alert the whole town."
"I know."
"And if Brek is faster than expected—"
"I know," Elian repeated, more firmly.
Shikamaru watched him for another moment, then nodded once.
"Then let's go."
***
The sun had just cleared the horizon when they took their positions.
Shikamaru disappeared between two buildings, silent as a shadow. Elian settled on the low roof of an abandoned warehouse overlooking the alley Brek would pass through. He lay flat on his stomach, pulled two explosive tags from his inner pocket, and held them carefully between his fingers.
He waited.
The minutes stretched on. The island was slowly waking around him — shutters opening, the clatter of dishes, the cry of a seagull above the port. Everything seemed normal on the surface.
Then voices appeared at the end of the alley.
Brek was tall, taller than Elian had imagined. A massive build, a dark coat, a broad sword at his belt. He walked slowly, thumbs hooked into his belt, speaking loudly to his two guards as if strolling through his own property. His face was thick, confident, with that particular look in his eyes of men who haven't been contradicted in a long time.
Elian let the three men advance to the middle of the alley.
Then he threw the first tag against the wall two meters behind the guards.
The explosion was short, sharp, brutally loud in the confined space of the alley. A burst of dust and stone fragments. The two guards spun around instinctively, sabers half-drawn.
That was all Shikamaru needed.
He emerged from the side with that deceptive slowness that was his trademark. A palm strike to the back of the first guard's neck, precise and efficient. The man collapsed without a sound. The second barely had time to turn before Shikamaru had already grabbed his shoulder, unbalancing him with a simple twist, and guided him to the ground with an elbow strike to the temple.
Two seconds. Two men down.
Brek, however, had stepped back, sword drawn, his eyes searching for the enemy through the smoke and dust.
Elian jumped from the roof.
He landed four meters from Brek, straightened up without haste, and pulled out a shuriken. The warmth in his chest was calm, steady — no panic, no trembling. Just that stable presence he now recognized.
Brek saw him. His eyes moved from the slender, violet-haired figure to the weapon in his hand, then to the two guards on the ground.
"A kid," he growled, with a short, humorless laugh. "They sent a kid."
He charged.
Elian didn't move right away. He waited, counted, and at the last moment stepped aside. The first sword strike cut through the air just centimeters from his shoulder. He threw the shuriken as he moved — the blade sank into Brek's forearm, drawing a curse from him. The sword wavered but did not fall.
Brek was tough. He turned faster than expected, his gaze now serious.
Elian stepped back twice, pulled the second explosive tag from his pocket. He stuck it against the wooden crate lining the wall to Brek's right — not to kill, but to throw him off balance.
The explosion blasted the crate into splinters. Brek was thrown a step to the side, his arm raised to shield his face. It was enough.
Elian was on him in two strides. He struck the inside of the wrist holding the sword — a move Shikamaru had shown him dozens of times in the grove of Crystal Island. The weapon fell. Before Brek could react, Elian drove an elbow into his jaw with the full weight of his body behind it.
The big man staggered, braced himself against the wall, and slowly slid down the stones to the ground. His eyes remained open for a few seconds, dazed, before closing.
Silence fell back over the alley.
Elian straightened slowly, his arms slightly heavy, his breathing a bit faster than usual. He looked at Brek unconscious at his feet, then at the sword on the cobblestones, then at his own hands.
Shikamaru approached from the shadows, hands in his pockets, as calm as if he had just watched a training session.
He observed the scene for a long moment in silence.
"The tags were well placed," he finally said. "Especially the second. You thought ahead."
Elian didn't answer right away. He picked up Brek's sword and set it against the wall, out of reach.
"We hand him over to the island authorities," he said. "And we claim the bounty."
Shikamaru nodded.
"4.8 million Berries." A pause. "Not bad for a morning."
***
The news spread quickly through the town.
Brek's men, disoriented and without a leader, surrendered without resistance as the townspeople — timidly at first, then with growing determination — stepped out into the streets. The local representative of the maritime authorities, a thin, nervous man who had been hiding in his home since the pirate's arrival, reappeared with an expression mixing relief and disbelief.
He looked at Brek tied up in the alley, then at Elian and Shikamaru.
"You… you're the ones who did this?"
"The bounty," Shikamaru said simply.
The man blinked, then nodded quickly.
The purse was handed over late in the morning, on the dock, under the discreet gazes of the townspeople who were beginning to venture outside again. 4,800,000 Berries. Elian held it in his hands for a moment, feeling its unusually heavy weight.
It was different from the previous missions. Different from Varek. Here, people had seen them. The child with the brown eyes stood at the edge of the crowd, at a distance. When Elian's gaze met his, the boy didn't look away.
He simply gave a slight nod.
Elian did the same.
***
They left Isla Roja in the early afternoon, without waiting for thanks or questions. Their small boat slipped out of the harbor under a clear sky, carried by a steady wind.
Once out at sea, Shikamaru did the count.
"4,800,000 in bounty. Plus the 525,000 we already had." He paused. "Total: 5,325,000 Berries."
He set the pouches between them.
"Half for the Shop. The other half for the journey."
Elian looked at the pouches for a moment. A little over 2,600,000 Berries for the system. He closed his eyes, opened the Shop in silence, and let the lines appear one by one.
2,800,000 – Dancing Leaves Style
5,500,000 – Spinning Fist Strike
18,000,000 – Shadow Winds
40,000,000 – Elemental Affinity
He paused on the last line. Forty million. A sum still distant, almost abstract. But beneath it, in the gray, inaccessible lines, he could sense what it would unlock — techniques of fire, lightning, wind. Jutsu he couldn't even name yet.
He closed the Shop without buying anything.
Shikamaru watched him from the side.
"You could take the Dancing Leaves Style. You're only about 200,000 Berries short."
"I know," Elian said. "But I want to wait."
"Wait for what?"
Elian kept his eyes on the horizon for a moment before answering.
"An elemental affinity. If I buy techniques one by one without an affinity, I'm building halfway. With an affinity, everything that comes after is structured around it. It changes everything."
Shikamaru remained silent for a long moment. The wind blew between them, steady and patient.
"Forty million," he finally said, his voice drawn out. "That's far."
"Yes."
"It's going to take time."
"I know."
A silence.
"That's the right decision," Shikamaru finally murmured, almost to himself.
He added nothing else. He didn't need to.
Elian opened his eyes again and looked at the sea ahead of them.
"Next step?" he asked.
Shikamaru was watching the horizon, hands in his pockets.
"We find a port. We gather information. And we keep going."
The wind blew gently at their backs, pushing the boat eastward, toward whatever the East Blue still had to offer.
Behind them, Isla Roja slowly grew smaller.
Ahead of them, the horizon opened — wider, fuller of promise than it had ever been.
And for the first time since Crystal Island, Elian felt that he was no longer just learning to survive.
He was learning to build.