The night sky above Windmill Village gleamed with a quiet brilliance. The once-turbulent clouds had finally drifted apart, revealing a vast field of stars. The moonlight spilled across the newly split mountain, turning the scar of Jin Akasa's blade into a silver vein of reflected light.
From where they stood on the hillside, the group watched as the stream of water from the mountain lake cascaded down through the freshly carved ravine. It sparkled as it flowed, rushing toward the farmlands below like a gift from the heavens.
For a long moment, no one spoke.
Then Bellemere finally exhaled, her rough hand pressed to her chest.
"…He really did it," she murmured in disbelief. "That entire hill… he split it in half."
Her voice trembled with awe. Even after everything she'd seen—the fall of Arlong, the storm of Jin's battles—nothing compared to this. A single stroke had torn open the earth and freed the river that would feed their village for generations.
Beside her, Makino smiled gently, her green eyes reflecting the moonlight. "I told you," she said softly. "When Jin says he'll do something… he does it."
Up above, Jin landed lightly on a thick tree branch overlooking the ravine. The heavy blade in his hand still hummed faintly from the strike. He could feel the lingering vibration through his fingers, the echo of unleashed power. His breathing was calm, his heartbeat steady—but deep inside, he felt the subtle ache of muscle strain and a faint burn beneath his ribs.
He smirked to himself. "I really overdid it."
The cut had been perfect—clean, decisive—but when he'd tried to release his full strength, his body had rebelled. He could feel it even now: the limit that separated mastery from destruction. The Tyrant Blade wasn't just a technique; it was a truth of force. It demanded harmony between body, mind, and spirit. He wasn't quite there yet.
Still, the thought made him grin.
"Guess I still have room to grow," he murmured, brushing the back of his wrist across his jaw. "Good. Would be boring otherwise."
He turned his gaze upward. The clouds were thinning fast, the moon cutting through like a blade of light. A cool wind passed through the trees, carrying the scent of sea salt and wet soil. He could already hear laughter echoing from the hilltop.
Family.
The word stirred a warmth inside him that not even the chaos of this world could erode.
By the time Jin climbed back up to the hill, the others were waiting for him around a makeshift campfire. Hina and Kuina were seated side by side, their calm expressions barely hiding the admiration in their eyes. Makino was distributing warm tea, her every movement gentle and deliberate. Bellemere and her girls—Nami and Nojiko—were still wide-eyed, unable to stop staring at the new waterway that cut across the valley.
Jin landed on the grass beside them, dusting off his sleeves. "Hey," he said with a grin. "Might've gone a little overboard."
"A little?" Kuina raised an eyebrow, lips twitching. "You just split an entire mountain in half."
Hina crossed her arms, the faintest smile curving her lips. "If the Marines saw that, they'd probably think an admiral attacked the island."
Even Bellemere couldn't help but laugh, shaking her head. "You're insane, kid. But… damn if I'm not grateful."
Nami, of course, had stars in her eyes. She practically bounced over to him, her small hands gripping his wrist with all the enthusiasm of a child who'd just found a treasure chest. "That was amazing! You—you actually cut the whole thing open! Just one swing!"
Jin looked down at her, amused. "It was just a mountain."
"Just a mountain?" Nami gasped. "You're unbelievable! I mean—uh—" She puffed up her cheeks, pretending to scold him, though her awe gave her away. "Fine! If you're so amazing, then when I grow up, you have to let me join your crew!"
That caught everyone off guard. Even Makino blinked. Kuina smirked faintly while Hina nearly spat her tea. Bellemere froze, caught between laughing and scolding, and Nojiko just sighed—used to her sister's impulsive declarations.
Jin leaned back on the stone ledge, one leg stretched out lazily. "Oh?" he said, voice smooth with teasing amusement. "And why should I let a little map-maker on my ship?"
"I'm not little!" Nami huffed, planting her hands on her hips. "I'm—well—okay, I am right now, but I won't be forever! And I can draw better than anyone in the East Blue! My dream is to make the most perfect map in the world—of the entire world!"
Her tiny fists clenched as she spoke, her amber eyes burning with determination that was far older than her years. It was the same spark Jin had seen in countless warriors—the mark of someone destined for the sea.
He studied her quietly, a small smile forming on his lips. "A map of the world, huh?"
"Mhm!" Nami nodded so hard her hair bounced. "But first I need to earn money! Traveling costs a lot, and ships aren't free, you know. That's why I'll be a great navigator and make tons of money, then sail the seas!"
Jin chuckled lowly. "Sounds like you've got your priorities straight."
He ruffled her hair, earning a delighted squeak. "Tell you what—when you're ready, come find me. My crew could always use someone who can see the world differently."
Her face lit up like the dawn. "Really?! You promise?"
"Promise," Jin said. "But only if you can handle seas rougher than this little island."
Bellemere raised an eyebrow. "You sure about that, Captain? You do realize if you take her, I'll be marching after your ship with a rifle."
Makino laughed softly, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. "He's just teasing, Bellemere."
"I know," Bellemere said with a smirk. "Still doesn't mean I trust pirates."
"Hey," Jin said, feigning offense, "I'm not a pirate. Just a man chasing freedom."
"Right," Hina murmured. "And half the Marines chasing you would say the same thing."
The group broke into laughter. Even Jin couldn't hold back a grin as he sat down beside Makino. The soft crackle of the firelight danced across their faces—the warmth of it, the comfort, the sense of belonging that none of them had expected to find in this lifetime.
Later that night, when the others were cleaning up the meal and the girls had dozed off near the fire, Jin found himself standing near the edge of the cliff again. The moon hung low, bathing the sea in pale silver light. The cut he'd made through the mountain gleamed faintly, the river now running freely toward the ocean.
Makino approached quietly, her footsteps soft on the grass. She handed him a mug of warm tea. "You know," she said softly, "I've seen you fight, build, teach, even laugh. But tonight… that was different."
Jin sipped from the mug, his gaze still fixed on the valley below. "Different how?"
She smiled faintly. "You didn't do it to win. You did it to give something back."
He didn't reply right away. The steam from the tea rose between them, curling into the air like mist. "Maybe," he said finally. "Or maybe I just wanted to remind myself what my strength is for."
Makino's voice softened. "For protecting others."
He turned slightly, meeting her gaze. For a moment, neither spoke. The distance between them wasn't physical—it was heavy with unspoken memories and emotions. Her eyes reflected both affection and quiet worry, and Jin could feel the pulse of it like a tide pulling at his heart.
He set the mug down beside him. "You always see through me, huh?"
Makino smiled. "Only because you let me."
Her words lingered in the air between them, warm and disarming. Then, before Jin could reply, she stepped closer. The hem of her skirt brushed against his boot, and her voice lowered to a whisper.
"Happy birthday, Jin."
He blinked, caught off guard. "You remembered?"
"How could I forget?" she said, her tone playful but gentle. "You split a mountain on your birthday. I think that deserves something special."
Before he could ask what she meant, Makino leaned in—her lips brushing his cheek, feather-light and warm. The faint scent of tea and salt lingered as she stepped back, a faint blush on her face.
Jin froze for a second, then smiled—slow, genuine, and full of quiet amusement. "That's dangerous, you know," he murmured. "A woman giving a man a gift like that."
"Then consider it a reminder," Makino said, turning away toward the others. "Not all battles are won with a sword."
He watched her go, her silhouette framed against the firelight, and something inside him eased. For all his power, for all his ambition, moments like these reminded him what truly mattered—the people who gave his life meaning.
He let out a soft chuckle. "Noted."
Behind him, the waves crashed gently against the distant shore, as if the sea itself had accepted the promise of peace for the night.
As dawn crept over the horizon, Jin Akasa stood at the mountain's edge once more. The villagers below were beginning to gather, staring in disbelief at the new river cutting through the heart of their land. Joyful voices carried on the morning wind.
He breathed deeply, feeling the pulse of life in the air—the whisper of the sea, the hum of Inner Force flowing naturally through his veins. The mountain stood split, the world renewed, and within him burned the calm certainty of strength tempered by purpose.
He glanced back toward the camp where Makino, Hina, Kuina, and the others were waking, laughter already starting to rise again.
For the first time in a long while, Jin smiled not as a warrior—but as a man who belonged.
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T/N :
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