The morning sun spilled golden light over the trees as Ryan sat on a smooth rock at the edge of the island, legs dangling over the rise, his gaze distant. Smoke from the pirate camp still trailed lazily into the sky, a final trace of the night's grim conclusion. The ocean ahead was calm, almost mockingly serene. He'd barely slept. Though his wounds were now fully healed thanks to Unohana's skilled Kidō, a phantom ache lingered in his ribs, echoing the pain that had only just left his body, and exhaustion weighed on him like a second skin—but his mind refused rest.
Fifteen pirates, including the man responsible for his mother's death, now lay buried in the earth they once desecrated. Ryan felt no triumph—only a muted sense of fulfillment, a task completed, a score settled. It hadn't made anything right, but it had brought closure. He owed it to her memory, and to the villagers they'd killed.
He glanced sideways where Unohana knelt near a stream, her movements calm as she rinsed her hands. Her sleeves remained unblemished, a testament to the precision of her strikes. Her sword rested beside her, untouched since the blow she'd delivered the night before. Minazuki, as she called it. Ryan knew—he remembered it from before he ever arrived in this world. In another life, she had been feared and revered alike. Here, she was an ally. A teacher. And in that moment, something like a quiet guardian.
Ryan got to his feet and took one of the swords he had brought from the pirate ship. It wasn't elegant, but it was sturdy and sharp. He stepped into a clearing and took his stance, running through the forms Unohana had drilled into him over the last two days. The kendo mastery he'd absorbed from the system pulsed through his body like second nature, but mastering it still required effort—practice.
Unohana didn't look up as she spoke. "You want to train again, even now?"
"I have to," he replied. "They're gone, but there will be more. Always more."
She nodded once. "Then continue."
For the next hour, the clearing echoed with the hiss of blade through air and the soft thud of footwork. Ryan repeated every kata Unohana had drilled into him over the past two days. His form was sharper now—his movements confident. Still, he didn't stop.
From nearby, Unohana observed quietly. Occasionally she offered a word, a correction. "Loosen your grip," she reminded. "Adjust your footing. Good. Again."
He exhaled and loosened his hands. Again, he moved.
"Better. A bit reckless, but you're learning."
By midday, his shirt clung to him with sweat, and his limbs felt like iron bars. But his blade moved faster now, cleaner. When he finally stopped, Unohana offered a simple nod.
Ryan sheathed the sword and dropped on the ground with a grunt, wiping sweat from his brow before reaching for the water flask. His chest rose and fell steadily, the strain of training evident in his posture. He took a long sip, letting the cool liquid settle the fire in his throat.
Unohana sat beside him, folding her legs neatly, observing him. "So, what now?"
Ryan looked toward the ocean, its horizon broad and unknown. "I want to travel. Not just run from danger but choose where I go. I want freedom, strength, people I can trust. Maybe a crew of my own one day. I want to see the Grand Line, the places I've only heard stories about. I want to live."
He was quiet for a long time. Then: "Freedom. Strength. A crew of my own, maybe. People I can trust. I want to travel—see the world beyond this stretch of sea. The Grand Line, the islands they whisper about in stories, places untouched by maps. I want to find what's out there and make a name that's my own. Not just survive, but live. Truly live."
"And those who stand in your way?"
The silence between them stretched, heavy with thoughts unsaid. Then he met her eyes again. at her, eyes steady. "Removing them but only if they deserve it."
A faint smile touched her lips, barely there. "Then your journey begins here."
They spent the rest of the day gathering anything useful from the wreckage of the camp. Near the tree line, they stumbled upon something—or someone—unexpected. A man with wild green hair, wearing a tattered white suit, his limbs awkwardly jutting from a large, worn treasure chest that seemed to have become part of his body.
Ryan stopped dead in his tracks.
"You're not pirates, are you?" the man asked warily.
Ryan blinked. He knew this man. Gaimon. A strange figure from a long-watched episode of a world that had once been fiction.
"We're not," Ryan said. "Name's Ryan. This is Unohana. You're Gaimon, right?"
Gaimon's eyes widened. "How do you know that?"
"Just heard about you from sailors," Ryan replied smoothly, masking the truth.
Gaimon chuckled. "Been stuck here for years. Guarding these weird animals and treasures. Not much company except them."
He told them how he'd been tricked, stuck in a chest while trying to recover treasure, and had since taken it upon himself to protect these strange yet rare animals of the island. With Ryan and Unohana had taking out the pirates, they'd saved Gaimon's animal companions from being smuggled away. The old man was deeply grateful for that.
"Didn't think anyone'd stand up for us out here," he said, eyes shining. "Thanks."
After that odd meeting, Ryan and Unohana returned to the shoreline. The pirate ship—the massive vessel he'd once been chained aboard—loomed nearby, still anchored. Bur it was too large for them to operate alone, its sails and rigging far beyond the work of two people. So they chose the very rowboat in which they had first arrived on the island, still bobbing quietly in the cove's gentle waters. It was weathered from the journey but seaworthy, and familiar enough.
As Unohana checked the oars and Ryan secured their salvaged supplies. He loaded it with everything he could: dried food, water, tools, weapons. Among those items was a hand-drawn map he had taken from the captain's cabin—faded at the edges, but clear enough to mark out a destination that caught his eye: Nagagutsu Kingdom. He remembered it from one of the pirate's whispered conversations and recognized it as a sizable kingdom known for its bustling ports and abundant supplies. That made it the perfect place to regroup, resupply, and plan the next step forward. It also wasn't far, at least not by seeing the marking on the map.
That night, both sat around a modest fire. Ryan sharpened his blade while Unohana watched the stars. The salty breeze carrying the scent of pine and ash.
"That's our first stop," he said, showing her the map.
"Nagagutsu?"
"Yeah. Big port, and we'll find everything that we need."
She nodded at once, a calm certainty in her eyes. "Confirmed. We'll set course."
He looked out over the waves again, "I don't know where this leads," he admitted. "But I won't be chained again. Not to anyone."
"You won't," she said, gaze steady. "Not while I draw breath."
The words weren't a promise—they were a certainty.
And somewhere beyond the horizon, the seas waited.