Year 1513 – West Blue
La Fortuna sailed calmly across the bluish-green sea. The sky was clear, dotted only with lazy, cotton-like clouds drifting overhead. Sunlight reflected off the ocean's surface, making the ripples sparkle like shards of glass.
On the deck, Arthur was busy filleting the morning's catch. His hands moved deftly, separating flesh from bone with a precision that made Bastien raise an eyebrow. The boy had grown not only as a fighter, but also in his survival skills.
"So what are we officially called now, Captain?" Arthur asked without looking up. "No flag, no emblem. Just the ship's name and your hairstyle."
Bastien stood at the prow, arms folded across his chest, gazing at the horizon. The sea breeze swept his hair back. "Freebone. We are the Freebone crew."
Arthur paused for a moment, then laughed. "Freebone, huh? Sounds weird... but cool. Like we're—"
"Born from ruins," Bastien continued, "from a place that stole all freedom. But now, we're free. And we'll fight to stay that way."
Arthur nodded solemnly, then added with mock seriousness, "The Freebone crew. Honest and handsome sailors."
"Don't forget humble," Bastien said dryly.
---
Kurohana Island looked like a floating garden in the middle of the sea. From afar, its colors were striking: purple, pink, blue, and green blending like a painting. Wildflowers flourished everywhere, carpeting the hills and valleys.
But when La Fortuna docked at the deserted wooden pier, the atmosphere shifted. No one came to greet them. No laughter of children, no bustling merchants, not even the chirping of birds.
Bastien scanned the surroundings. "Too quiet."
Arthur tied down the ship, his short scythe slung across his back. "An island this beautiful should be packed with tourists or at least noisy locals."
"Be careful," Bastien muttered. "Beautiful places often hide the sharpest thorns."
They walked along a stone path scattered with fallen petals. Wooden houses lined the road, neat but shuttered tight. From behind curtains, a few eyes peeked out—then quickly vanished.
"I feel like a ghost," Arthur whispered. "They see us but pretend we're not here."
Suddenly, a small stone flew toward them. Arthur moved instinctively to block it, but Bastien simply shifted his body and stared sharply toward the bushes. A little girl with twin braids emerged, her face scrunched in anger.
"Are you bandits too?!" she shouted. "Get out! We have nothing left for you to steal!"
Bastien stepped forward slowly and knelt to her level. "We're not bandits. We're sailors. We won't hurt you."
The girl glanced at Arthur, who raised his hands with an exaggerated grin.
"We're the Freebone crew," Arthur said grandly. "Honest and handsome sailors."
The girl just glared at him.
"Handsome is optional," Bastien corrected. "But we're definitely not part of the trouble here."
The girl hesitated, then pointed toward the hill behind the village. "They live up there. The bad people. They used to say they were our protectors, but now they steal our food. My father was taken when he refused to give them our harvest. They beat anyone who protests."
In the distance, crumbling buildings sat atop the hill. A few large men lounged around, weapons slung casually at their sides. They looked relaxed, but their presence was menacing.
Bastien narrowed his eyes. "Bandits pretending to be protectors. Classic."
"Why doesn't anyone fight back?" Arthur asked.
The girl lowered her head. "Because... if anyone fights, they burn the fields and houses. Some people left, but most of us have nowhere else to go."
Bastien exhaled slowly, then stood. "We'll help."
The girl's eyes widened. "Really?"
"We're Freebone," Bastien said firmly. "And we're not the kind to stand by and watch. If we do nothing, we're just as bad as them."
Arthur tapped his scythe. "Finally. Some action."
"Ami," the girl said when Bastien asked her name.
"Ami, tell the villagers. Tonight, you can hope again. We'll take care of them."
Ami nodded, and for the first time, a small smile appeared on her face. The fallen flowers danced around them, carried by the wind.
On the ship, no flag yet flew.
But in their hearts, something even stronger had already been raised.
Something called hope.