The wind blew gently at their backs, pushing their boat eastward, toward whatever the East Blue still had to offer them.
***
They found the port three days later.
It was called Porto Calmo, a name that suited it well. It was a modest town nestled in a well-sheltered natural bay, with houses whose facades had been faded by salt and narrow streets that smelled of damp wood and smoked fish. Nothing particularly remarkable, but the port was active, the inns were open, and no one seemed to want to kill them. For now, that was enough.
They moored their boat in the late morning and took a room in an inn near the dock. The room was small but clean, with two narrow beds and a window overlooking the sea. Shikamaru lay down immediately, arms crossed over his chest, eyes fixed on the ceiling. Elian set down his bag, sat on the edge of the bed, and remained silent for a long moment.
Outside, voices rose from the harbor. Merchants, sailors, children running along the docks. A normal life, indifferent to what had happened at sea three days earlier.
"Does your shoulder hurt?" Shikamaru said without turning his head.
Elian shifted his right shoulder slightly. Renzo's cut had healed quickly, shallow and clean. Only a slight stiffness remained in the morning.
"I'm fine," he said.
"Lie."
"Almost fine."
Shikamaru let out a breath that sounded like a laugh.
***
In the afternoon, they went out separately.
Shikamaru disappeared toward the market, hands in his pockets, looking like someone strolling without any particular مقصد. Elian walked along the docks, observing the boats, the men, and the goods passing through. Porto Calmo wasn't wealthy, but it was well connected. Maritime routes passed through it—and so did information.
He stopped in front of a notice board nailed to the entrance of a warehouse. Wanted posters, transport offers, trade announcements. He scanned them slowly, mentally noting the bounties, names, and areas of activity.
Nothing exceptional. A few minor pirates, escort missions, recovery contracts.
He was about to leave when his gaze stopped on a smaller sheet than the others, wedged into a corner of the board and half-covered by an advertisement for fishing nets.
It wasn't a wanted poster. It was a handwritten note in black ink, written in tight, precise script:
Kael Island, former abandoned colony, west coast of the East Blue. Dense vegetation, fresh water source, protected natural harbor. Unoccupied for twenty years. No known official claim.
Below it, someone had hastily added, in a different hand:
No pirates. No marines. Just wind and trees.
Elian stood in front of the sheet for a long moment. Then he gently removed it from the board and slipped it into his pocket.
***
Shikamaru was already back at the inn when Elian returned. He was sitting at the small table near the window with a cup of tea in front of him, his eyes lost on the sea. He didn't turn his head when the door opened.
Elian sat across from him and placed the note on the table.
Shikamaru read it slowly, without any particular expression. Then he set it down and picked up his cup again.
"Kael," he said simply.
"Had you heard of it?"
"No. But the name circulates sometimes in ports. An old fishing colony abandoned after an epidemic about twenty years ago. The survivors left, and no one came back." He paused. "The Marines don't pay attention to it anymore. It's too small and too isolated to be worth the trip."
Elian looked at the note for a moment.
"It's the kind of place we talked about," he said.
"Yeah."
"A natural harbor, a water source, vegetation." He stopped. "It would be a base."
Shikamaru set his cup down, elbows on the table and chin in his hand. He looked at the sea through the window with half-closed eyes, like someone weighing every variable without rushing.
"A village," he murmured, almost to himself.
"We talked about it," Elian said. "Not like a dream. Like an objective."
"I know." Shikamaru remained silent for a long moment. "But a village doesn't get built overnight. You need solid foundations before you can seriously think about it. A reputation, resources, a defensible place." He paused. "And a leader capable of standing on his own before anything else."
"That's why affinity comes first," Elian said.
"Exactly. The people who would come need to know they can trust you—not just to make decisions, but to fight alongside them if necessary."
Elian slowly nodded. He looked at the note for another moment, then folded it carefully and slipped it into his inner pocket.
"Then we keep going the way we have been. We make a name for ourselves. We build up. And when the time comes, we'll be ready."
Shikamaru nodded once.
"Not yet. But one day."
A comfortable silence settled between them. Shikamaru picked up his cup again, and outside, the sea shimmered softly under the evening light.
***
The next morning, they went out together for the first time since their arrival.
Porto Calmo was larger than it had seemed from the dock. The streets in the center were lively, lined with small shops and storage houses. Passing sailors mingled with local merchants, fishermen returning from their early outings, children running between the legs of adults. It was a transit town, the kind of place where information flowed naturally, carried by people who came and went.
Shikamaru stopped in front of a tavern open early in the morning, glanced inside for a moment, then walked in without a word. Elian followed him.
The place was half full. Men sat at tables with cups of coffee or, for some, glasses of something stronger despite the hour. Low conversations, occasional laughter. Shikamaru chose a table in a corner, ordered two coffees, and settled in with the posture of someone who had nothing in particular to do.
Elian understood quickly. This wasn't about drinking coffee.
It was about listening.
The conversations went in all directions. Stories of delayed cargo, contrary winds, rising prices. But between these banalities, names surfaced from time to time—names of pirates, islands, areas to avoid. Elian noted them mentally, one by one, without letting anything show on his face.
Shikamaru, for his part, seemed to be staring into space. But Elian had long known that this appearance meant nothing.
They stayed there for a full hour before stepping back outside.
In the street, Shikamaru spoke first, his voice low and drawn out.
"Did you hear about Crane?"
Elian nodded. The name had come up twice in different conversations, each time spoken with a slight tension.
"A pirate operating east of Porto Calmo. He's been controlling the trade routes between three islands for about six months." He paused. "Twelve million Berries bounty."
Elian thought for a moment.
"That's more than Renzo."
"Yeah. And apparently he's more organized. He doesn't extort at random—he's set up a system. Merchants pay a regular tax or their ships don't pass." Shikamaru stopped in front of a stall of dried fruits, took one without really looking at it. "Not a target for today. But it's a target."
Elian kept the name in mind.
They continued walking, crossing the central market where the stalls were beginning to fill up. From time to time, Shikamaru stopped, exchanged a few words with a vendor or a sailor, asked a casual question that wasn't really one. Elian observed, learned. There was something in the way Shikamaru gathered information that was as natural as the way he fought—efficient, precise, without apparent effort.
By late morning, they sat on a bench facing the port, watching ships enter and leave the bay.
"Crane for later," Elian said. "But before that?"
Shikamaru pulled a small piece of paper from his pocket, on which he had scribbled a few names and numbers during their wandering.
"There's an escort mission leaving in two days for Maren Island. A merchant transporting medicine—well paid, apparently low risk." He folded the paper and put it away. "It's not glorious, but it pays and lets us stay discreet a little longer."
Elian looked at the bay for a moment. A large merchant sailboat was slowly maneuvering toward the dock, its white sails filled with the offshore wind.
"And after Maren?"
"We'll see what Maren teaches us." Shikamaru closed his eyes, his face turned toward the sun that was beginning to warm the morning. "In places like this, each port leads to the next. Each mission opens the door to the one after." He paused. "It's a troublesome way to live, but it's effective."
Elian let the silence settle between them, comfortable and familiar. He felt the warmth in his chest, steady as always. He thought of Kael, of affinity, of Crane and his twelve million.
Everything was there, in front of them, within reach—if they gave it time.
All that remained was to move forward, one step at a time.