The sun crept in slow and gentle through the cracks in the wooden wall, laying its warm fingers across my face. I grumbled. Not because I hated the morning, but because it always ca too soon. My body still ached slightly from yesterday—the hauling, the walk back to the mansion, the sitting by the fire a little longer than I should’ve.
Still, there was sothing peaceful about it.
The way the village never really roared to life, but rather humd awake. Soft bird calls in the trees. The occasional distant thud of a door closing. A dog barking once, then going quiet again.
I blinked the sleep away and sat up, rubbing the back of my neck.
The bed was nothing more than a layered futon on wood, but I folded it neatly all the sa. Habits. Even here, in a borrowed world, they stuck. I smoothed the last fold with my palm, gave a small nod of approval, and reached for my towel and toothbrush.
Outside, the air was still clinging to its early chill. Dew wet the grass. My shack, a modest little thing tucked between two larger hos and shaded by an overgrown tree, stood like it had sothing to prove. The wood creaked with every breeze. The hinges squealed in protest when I opened the door.
But it was ho. At least for now.
With a nurdle of toothpaste lazily squeezed onto the brush, I stepped into the morning proper. My towel draped over my shoulder. The familiar path toward the village well welcod like it always did—dusty, uneven, with pebbles that always seed to find their way underfoot no matter how many tis I cleared them.
Halfway there, I heard the chatter with rhythm.
"1, 2! Hidari no ha, migi no ha!"
Usopp.
And sure enough, just around the bend, I found them.
Usopp and his loyal three—Ninjin, Tamanegi, and Piiman—lined up in perfect, chaotic sync. They stood before the well, each one brushing their teeth like it was a sacred military drill.
"Ohayō!" Usopp shouted between swipes.
"Ohayō!" the three kids echoed, foaming like small, excited volcanoes.
I gave them a nod, toothbrush still dangling from my mouth. There was no point trying to match their energy. Not at this hour.
I stepped beside them, my bucket in hand, and lowered it down the well. The rope creaked as the pulley turned. Cold water always felt heavier than it should’ve. I hauled it up, droplets clinging to the rope and spattering against the wood rim. I poured a small amount into the jug and began to gargle, the cold water taking away my drowsiness.
The kids were still brushing, giggling now. Piiman accidentally spit on his own foot and yelled like he’d been attacked. Usopp laughed harder than he should’ve. Ninjin, always the calst, simply moved two steps away like this was routine.
I finished up, splashed the rest of the water over my face, and took a quick bath. I moved with efficiency—soap, rinse, towel-dry—and was done before the kids had finished arguing about who was going to catch the biggest fish tomorrow.
Back at my shack, I poured a bucket water into the small flower patch I’d been tending. They weren’t extravagant blooms—just simple things, marigolds and cosmos and a stubborn blue flower I hadn’t identified yet—but they added a little softness to the wood and stone.
I changed into my day clothes, checked the window shutters were secured, and closed the door behind . My towel now hung neatly over the peg by the entrance.
Walking back to the well, I set the empty bucket down for the next villager and gave the boys another glance. They were down to their underpants now bathing with the cold well water. Usopp had pulled out a water gun from sowhere and was spraying the kids with water while the kids were throwing water at each other like they were in the middle of an ocean storm.
I smiled, shook my head, and left them to it.
A short walk down the hill brought to the heart of the village—still waking, but already alive. Doors opened. Old folks sat out front with their tea. A baby cried sowhere in the distance, quickly soothed by a lullaby. Smoke curled from a few chimneys, carrying the scent of burning wood and stead rice.
And just there, nestled on the corner of the square, was shi.
The diner.
Simple, sturdy, and warm even before the stove got going. The sign above the door creaked when the wind caught it. The bell above the entrance jingled softly as I walked in.
The owner, a wide-shouldered woman with tired eyes and a constant scowl, looked up and grunted her usual greeting. She didn’t waste ti with questions. Just turned and started preparing the usual.
I took my usual seat in the corner, near the window, where I could watch the square co alive. The wooden table had scratches carved into it—nas, dates, one badly-drawn snail.
While waiting, the owner slid a stack of paper toward . Bounty posters.
I picked one up. 2.5 million bounty. Impressive for this part of the sea.
I leafed through the others, occasionally pausing to study a new na or a higher bounty. The world moved fast outside this village. It was strange, in a way—how peaceful everything felt here, while chaos brewed out there.
My breakfast arrived with the kind of thunk that ca from practiced hands. Grilled fish, pickled vegetables, a bowl of rice, and miso soup. Nothing fancy. Just good food.
I ate slowly, one eye on the posters, the other watching as the sunlight edged higher over the rooftops. The cold breeze that clung to dawn was retreating now, replaced by warmth and the low hum of daily life.
Villagers passed outside, waving to each other. This much peace felt like a dream, no doubt.
I finished my al and paid my dues. I walked out the diner door not before taking a bounty poster I had an eye on.
----------------
The gates of the mansion opened as I stepped inside. The morning sun cast long shadows across the courtyard, where workers tended to the vibrant array of plants and flowers. I nodded to each of them, acknowledging their diligent work as I made my way toward the grand entrance.
Inside, the air was cool and carried the faint scent of polished wood and blooming lilies. The mansion’s interior was as immaculate as ever, a testant to the ticulous care of its staff. I paused near the base of the grand staircase and gestured to a nearby worker to call for rry.
As I waited, I glanced around the opulent foyer, my fingers idly flipping through the bounty poster I held. The paper was crisp, the ink fresh—another reminder of the world beyond this peaceful village.
From the second-floor landing, I saw rry erge. His posture was upright, his movents graceful, embodying the very essence of a refined butler. I couldn’t help but feel a twinge of envy at his composed deanor. He descended the staircase with asured steps, his eyes eting mine with a calm, inquisitive gaze.
Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed Klahadore erging from the kitchen. He adjusted his glasses with that signature motion, pushing them up with the palm of his hand. Our eyes t briefly. I gave him a nod; he returned it with his usual stoic expression. He should have been an actor, given the convincing facade he maintained.
As he walked past , his gaze fell upon the bounty poster in my hand. For a split second, his stride faltered, a barely perceptible hesitation. "Shōkin posutā?" he inquired, his voice devoid of emotion.
I knew that if I revealed his own bounty poster, he would stop at nothing to eliminate every witness in the mansion. Yet, I couldn’t resist the urge to tease him. I nodded in response, offering no further explanation. He glanced at once more before continuing on his way, his deanor unchanged. Still, I could feel his piercing gaze lingering, like a predator assessing a potential threat.
rry approached, his eyes flicking between Kuro and . Concern etched his features, though he remained silent. He didn’t want us to clash, to disrupt the fragile peace of the mansion. But he knew better than to voice his worries. He was more mature than I could ever hope to be.
I shook my head subtly, casting a glance toward Klahadore to indicate that I had no intention of befriending him. rry sighed, a silent acknowledgnt of the tension between us. I shrugged in response. He started it, not .
Before we could delve into other matters, I held up the bounty poster for rry to see. Kuro’s interest waned upon realizing it wasn’t his own. I looked at rry and pointed to myself. "Shōkin kasegi." I said with a grin.
rry raised an eyebrow, a mixture of amusent and concern playing across his face. A bounty hunter was needed in these waters but they were feared the sa as pirates by the ordinary folks.
Bounty Hunter given the chance would pillage the sha as Pirates. The villagers and the world had no good view of the Hunters. Just that the Bounty Hunters no more than a shade lighter than pirates
I appreciated his concern, but I had faced my share of dangers. Still, his words stuck in his mouth served as a reminder of the risks that ca with the path I was considering.
We moved to the sitting room, where the morning light filtered through the large windows, casting a warm glow over the elegant furnishings. A tray of tea awaited us, the aroma soothing.
As we sipped our tea, the conversation shifted to lighter topics—the upcoming village festival, the new batch of flowers blooming in the garden, and the antics of the local children. For a mont, the weight of bounty posters and hidden identities faded, replaced by the simple pleasures of daily life.
Of course it was rry who did the talking while I rely listened.
But the tranquility was short-lived. A commotion outside drew our attention. Peering through the window, I saw Usopp and the children engaged in an animated discussion with Klahadore. Usopp had co to the mansion gate with gifts carried by both him and the three little soldiers. Dressed in his best clothes, he looked a bit charming no doubt.
He had brought the swagger I had taught him. To impress Kaya no doubt. I smiled. I looked up to Kaya’s room. Chances are she was seeing this all from her window. rry knew that too.
I could see rry walk towards the Gate. I walked a bit faster.
Usopp might be one of the deciding factor events in the world later on. But right now, he is nothing but a child who will easily fall in a trap of words.
"Klahadore." I spoke almost commanding.
He turned around. He looked at with vile. I could see the words form in his mouth. Selected words that would give him an edge and while making look bad, if I got stuck in his rhythm.
Sha for him—I don’t follow sheet music.
I turned to rry.
"Gesuto." I pointed at the kids and Usopp. "Gifuto." I pointed at the parcel they carried.
"Okurimono o motte kuru hito o sonchō shi nasai." I looked at Klahadore.
Respect those who bring gifts.
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