The next day.
The entire town returned to normal, as if nothing had changed. Yet, the beautiful woman, silhouetted against the setting sun as she slowly sailed towards the island, never reappeared. Even her family showed no concern for her disappearance.
That fleeting white, stirred by the wind in his childhood memories, and the red on his feet, vanished like an illusion, sealed away completely.
Only when he opened the history books and truly delved into those unknown years did he understand the terrifying events that had transpired that night.
According to the records.
It was the woman's father who personally delivered his pregnant daughter, close to giving birth, to the mayor's home. He and the mayor then personally summoned all the adults in town. Together, they bound the woman to a stake in the town's central square and set her ablaze.
No wonder there was always a burnt black mark on the town square.
So, that was the place of the pyre!
Although he knew the island had many peculiar rules, he had never witnessed anything like this, not until he was this old. He never imagined such a cruel event could have unfolded during his childhood, documented in history.
He could imagine the despair of that woman, slowly consumed by the flames under the gaze of numerous onlookers, under their indifferent eyes.
Especially when her own kin were present in the crowd.
He surmised that, at that moment, the searing pain in her heart must have far surpassed the boundless flames engulfing her.
After all, she had returned at her most vulnerable, to her true home.
He mused that in her heart, "home" must have been the safest, warmest place.
Yet, she could never have imagined that the very family she considered her warmest would be the ones to directly cause her death, and the death of her unborn child.
He shook his head, looked up, and gazed out the window.
He looked at the dense fog enveloping the entire island, a hint of sorrow flashing in his eyes.
At some point, perhaps months or even half a year ago, the island, once bathed in sunshine and hospitable to human life, began to be constantly shrouded in mist.
This plunged the island into darkness for most of the day.
Only as dusk approached, with the setting sun, would the fog dissipate, revealing an island that looked as if it were ablaze.
This made the island appear like a burning candle lamp from afar.
And the wick…
His gaze shifted downwards. Kaburi looked towards the church built on higher ground behind the town's central square, his eyes reflecting complex emotions.
The wick was in that church.
As for the lamp oil, it was the entire town.
What exactly happened that night was not recorded in the historical texts, only a few brief lines stating that the woman seemed to have vanished in the flames.
How she disappeared, no one knew.
He suddenly understood why the nun who arrived on the island half a year ago felt so familiar.
Now that he thought about it, this young nun, who had resided in the church since her arrival and was highly respected by the townspeople, was either the woman from twenty years ago herself, or her child.
After all, no one was certain if the woman had truly died.
If she hadn't died, or if the child hadn't died.
Then, it would be understandable for them to return for revenge after gaining power.
With this thought, Kaburi withdrew his gaze, the pity in his eyes vanishing. While the town was responsible for the woman's fate, it had nothing to do with him.
He was only twenty-five or twenty-six years old. Although he appeared old, he was still quite young.
Therefore, he didn't want to die. He truly didn't want to die. He closed the history book on the table, his legs trembling slightly, and slowly stood up.
He picked up the backpack already prepared beside the desk, stuffed the history book into it, cast one last glance at the distant church, withdrew his gaze, and stepped out of the room.
Since he was favored by the goddess of fortune to remain lucid, he couldn't just wait here to die.
...
Noon.
The sun blazed fiercely.
The Going Merry cut through the waves, rapidly sailing in a certain direction.
Just then, Arlo's shout from the crow's nest broke the silence at the ship's bow.
"Kouta..."
"Yeah!"
He opened his eyes, a hint of confusion in his sky-blue irises. He looked up at Arlo in the crow's nest, and the confusion instantly vanished. With a touch of morning grumpiness, he boomed, "What is it?"
"A small boat, to the front left."
"A small boat?"
His mind instantly cleared.
Aside from the extremely self-confident Mihawk, or Kuzan who could ride a bicycle on the sea with his Devil Fruit ability, who else would dare to venture out to sea alone in a small boat?
After all, this was the Grand Line.
He shook his head, a flash of red light crossing his sky-blue irises.
"Hmm..."
His hand paused mid-stroke as he touched his chin. "Not a strong person."
He felt the presence of a dying old man.
"Could it be a water burial?"
With that thought, he quickly rolled off the lounge chair, slipped on his slippers, and hurried to the ship's edge.
Hmm... it didn't look like a water burial, more like they were in distress.
On the sea to the front left of the Going Merry, a small boat bobbed with the waves.
Compared to the vastness of the ocean, the small boat was like a fallen leaf on the sea. Judging by its undulating motion, if the weather hadn't been relatively good in this area, it might have already capsized and sunk, resulting in the death of its occupant.
"There's only one old man on the boat."
Kouta gazed at the distant small boat, a flicker of curiosity in his eyes.
Whether it was an accident or something else, there would be an interesting story.
With this thought, he withdrew his gaze, turned around, leaned against the railing, and shouted up towards the cockpit.
"A Tao."
"Here."
A Tao's head appeared at the cockpit door, a cigarette dangling from his lips, staring at Kouta with a puzzled expression.
"To the left, there's an old man. Let's go check it out."
"Oh..."
Giving Kouta an "okay" gesture, A Tao withdrew his head.
Immediately, under A Tao's control, the Going Merry swiftly turned and headed towards the front left.
Shadows fell. Kaburi, lying on the small boat in a state of despair, opened his eyes and met the sky-blue irises on the bow of the Going Merry, eyes that seemed to pierce through one's soul.
"Not an old man?"
Kouta looked at Kaburi's clear eyes, which stood out against his aged face, a hint of confusion in his own.
"Such a handsome young man."
That was Kaburi's first thought upon seeing Kouta. Then, a glint of hope appeared in his pupils.
He had assumed that once he left the island, as long as his luck wasn't too bad, he would eventually encounter other ships.
Even a pirate ship would do.
Don't get him wrong, their island might seem ancient, but it wasn't.
It was only a little over a day's journey from Water Seven, a city brimming with commercial activity. It was just that their island wasn't on the main shipping routes, which made it seem a bit deserted.
Once they left the island, it didn't take long to find ships heading to Water Seven.
He didn't know if fate was playing a trick on him; the ships that were usually easy to find were nowhere to be seen today. He knew that with his small boat, spending a night on the Grand Line was an absolute pipe dream.
He had set sail to find a way to live, not to find death.
Well... his luck wasn't entirely bad. He didn't actually know why he had been waiting here for so long. Fortunately, he had only waited for half the morning before a ship appeared.