The early morning air was crisp as Ryan and Unohana set off from the island, their small rowboat slicing across the waves with a steady rhythm. The sun climbed slowly behind them, casting gold across the vast ocean. Ryan sat near the back, both hands gripping the oars with steady determination—his sword sheathed at his waist. The journey had begun.
They passed the pirate ship, still anchored in eerie silence. The scent of salt and ash still clung to the wood. Ryan glanced at it briefly—not with fear, but with finality. That chapter of his life had closed. Now, it was just wood and memory.
The boat rocked gently with each stroke. Supplies were secured in the back—water, dried food, a small toolkit, cloth rolls, and a bundle of fishing line. Ryan's arms moved with practiced effort, pulling the oars in steady rhythm. The ocean's resistance was familiar now—something he worked with, not against. Unohana sat near the front, serene and composed, her steady gaze on the map that she held loosely in one hand. Occasionally, she would point toward subtle shifts in the current or wind, guiding them with silent precision in right direction.
Around midday, with the sun hanging high and relentless in the sky, Ryan slowed his strokes and nodded to Unohana. They exchanged duties without a word—he passed her the oars. Ryan shifted to the front of the boat, now acting as their guide. He used a damp cloth to wipe the sweat off his brow, his eyes narrowing as he scanned the shimmering horizon.
Unohana took the oars smoothly, her movements precise, almost graceful. Each pull was measured, efficient, as if she had rowed across oceans before. The boat moved steadily under her command, and Ryan found himself watching her for a moment, quietly impressed by the quiet strength she carried. The sea lapped softly against the hull, the rhythm soothing, the silence between them companionable. The only sounds were the creak of wood, the rush of wind, and the occasional call of a gull circling above.
By late evening, a green shadow began to form on the horizon.
"Land," Ryan murmured, squinting into the distance.
Unohana looked up. "Nagagutsu."
As they drew closer, the silhouette of the island sharpened—a bustling port city sprawling along the coast, with tall cliffs behind and winding towers touching the sky. Docked ships bobbed gently in the harbor, their flags fluttering in the sea breeze. From the water, Ryan could already hear the distant hum of life: shouting vendors, the clang of metal, and the occasional gull cry overhead.
They rowed into a secluded inlet of the main harbor, choosing a quiet corner away from the heavier traffic of larger vessels. From there, they could disembark and enter the town on foot without drawing attention. Ryan dragged the rowboat partially onto the shore, the wooden frame creaking faintly as it scraped against the sand and pebbles. His shoulders strained with the effort, muscles burning from the long hours of rowing, but he didn't pause, wedging the boat against a rocky outcrop, while Unohana covered their tracks by scattering brush and sand over their footprints. The incoming tide would wash away any remaining trace. Later, they blended into the crowd at the bustling docks, where the scent of tar, fish, and seaweed mingled in the air, and the cacophony of shouting sailors, creaking crates, and ringing ship bells filled the bay.
They approached a group of weathered merchants clustered near a stack of sun-faded crates and fishing nets, their voices rising and falling in a spirited haggle over goods from the latest ships. One merchant, a grizzled man with a wide-brimmed hat and ink-stained ledger, glanced up as Ryan and Unohana stepped forward. Ryan offered a polite nod and cleared his throat, keeping his tone casual. "Looking to sell a rowboat," he said, gesturing down the dock.
The oldest of the merchants, a man with a curled gray beard and a pipe clamped between his teeth, motioned them over. "Let's see it." They led the merchants to the edge of the dock where the rowboat waited. Their weathered boots thudding against the dock wood as they walked toward the shore where the boat waited.
The buyers ran their hands over the wood, checking for signs of rot, tapping the hull with knuckles, muttering among themselves. As they examined it, running hands over planks and testing joints with experienced taps.
"She's seen some use," one said.
"But the frame's sturdy," added another. "No cracks. Solid build."
After a round of bartering, they settled on a fair price. Ryan handed over the rope, and Berries exchanged hands. The merchants, clearly satisfied, began preparing the boat for their own needs. One of them turned and tipped his hat. "Good trade. Safe travels."
With the deal done, Ryan and Unohana stepped away, their purse heavier from selling not just the rowboat, but also the various materials it carried. The merchants had been eager, recognizing the utility in the well-preserved goods. As the last crate was unloaded, Ryan tucked the folded Berries into the inner pocket of his satchel, securing it with the sum of one million Berries he had previously taken from the pirate ship. His mind, however, was already shifting to the next task ahead.
"We need to find supplies, information, but a place to stay first." Ryan said as he adjusted the simple black cloak over his shoulders.
Unohana gave a soft nod. "Agreed. We'll keep to the edges and stay quiet—too much noise draws the wrong eyes."
They walked down the rocky path into the edge of the city. Nagagutsu was alive in every sense—market stalls spilled into alleyways, merchants shouted over each other, and the air was thick with the scent of grilled fish, spices, and salt. Ryan felt the pull of a thousand distractions but kept his focus.
They soon found a modest hotel on the edge of the city. The building was old but well-kept, with lanterns casting a soft glow in the gathering twilight. Ryan pushed open the creaking door, holding it for Unohana as they stepped into the quiet lobby. Behind the counter, a middle-aged woman looked up from a ledger, her expression polite but disinterested. "Two rooms, for two days," Ryan said. The woman nodded, retrieved two iron keys from a hook behind her, and slid them across the counter. No questions asked. Ryan took them with a brief nod, handing one to Unohana as they made their way down the hallway, boots tapping softly on the worn wooden floor.
After settling in, Ryan and Unohana decided to explore the city a bit before nightfall. The narrow streets of Nagagutsu bustled with life even as the sky deepened into hues of orange and violet. Lanterns flickered to life one by one, casting warm pools of light across the cobblestones.
They found a humble open-air eatery tucked between two trading posts, its tables filled with dock workers and travelers. The scent of spiced fish stew and sizzling skewers was irresistible. They ordered a modest dinner—steamed rice, grilled fish, and tea—eating quietly while observing the ebb and flow of people.
Once their meal was done, they walked back to the hotel under the night sky, the air cooler now with the scent of the ocean breeze following them. Inside, the inn was quiet, the hallway dimly lit with oil lamps. Without a word, they split off into their respective rooms. Ryan paused at his door, key in hand, and glanced back once at Unohana. She gave a soft nod before disappearing into her room. He stepped inside, letting the weight of the day settle as he shut the door behind him.