The sea breeze rolled in slow, warm and salted, smothering the worst of the sun's bite.
On deck, Jin lounged in a weathered sun chair, boots crossed, violet eyes half-lidded behind the hair falling over his face. The salty air teased the coat draped over his shoulders.
"Hey, Captain," he drawled lazily, "how much longer till we hit port?"
The merchant captain flinched like a scolded dog. "Ah! Before sunset, Jin-san! I had the boys push the sails — we'll be there soon, truly!"
Three days had passed since they'd crossed that pirate ship's path. The captain still woke sweating through nightmares: the memory of Jin stepping off the deck, cutting the whole damn pirate brig into drifting corpse-wood with a single arc of silver ki. The lazy way he'd dangled that blood-dripping head by its hair — calmly asking, "This the bastard on the wanted poster?"
Fucking terrifying.
That memory alone had the captain wiping new sweat from his brow every time Jin so much as spoke.
"Sunset, huh?" Jin murmured, shifting, the chair creaking under him. "Alright. Wake me when we get close."
"O-of course! I'll leave you to rest!" the captain spluttered, bowing out like he'd been offered a pardon.
Eyes closed, Jin let the sway of the ship and the taste of brine lull him.
Windmill Village… a backwater dot on the map. But if I'm lucky, I'll find what I came for: that gentle barkeep girl — Makino. Maybe even see if Ace, Sabo, and Luffy are already there. Hell, if that old bastard Garp shows up… that'd be the cherry on top.
A slow grin touched his lips before sleep finally dragged him under.
Hours later.
Sunset smeared the horizon in molten gold and bruised purple.
Footsteps approached. Jin's ears caught them before they even cleared the hatch. Without opening his eyes, he spoke:
"We close?"
The captain near dropped to his knees in fright. "Y-yes, Jin-san! Truly, the island's coming into view. Forgive me for waking you…"
Jin cracked an eye, lazily stretching. "Chill. You look like you pissed yourself every time you see me," he scoffed, voice dry as driftwood.
"N-no! Truly not! I-I only meant — we're grateful, sir, truly grateful!" the captain stammered, face pale as sun-bleached canvas.
Jin pushed off the chair, coat rippling in the breeze, and turned toward the bow. A hazy green shape had begun to rise over the ripples of the sea: the windmill blades turning slow and lazy against the sky.
"Small village, huh?" Jin asked, voice calm.
"Ah — yes! Windmill Village, sir! I've made deliveries there before. Fine folk, though the mountains nearby do have bandits. But there's a good woman keeps the bar — Makino-san. The cargo you asked about's for her place."
Makino… gentle, pretty, and brave enough to keep a bar running in the ass-end of nowhere. As for those brats… Luffy must still be tiny. Ace might be there… maybe not yet. Sabo… fuck knows.
He snorted under his breath.
And Garp? If the old bastard's around, better to see him from a distance first. Still… could be useful.
Jin glanced back. The captain still hovered, wringing his hat like a wet rag.
"Relax," Jin sighed. "I'm not here to kill you lot. I'll get off at the dock and deliver the barrel myself. After that, you never saw me. Got it?"
"O-of course! Truly! Thank you, Jin-san!" the captain babbled, relief pouring off him like sweat.
"Yeah, yeah…" Jin muttered, stepping toward the hatch. "Where's the damn barrel?"
The captain scrambled to fetch it, nearly tripping twice. Jin snatched the huge cask single-handed, hefting it like it weighed nothing.
Port.
The pier smelled of brine, nets drying in the last rays of sun. The squeak of old wooden windmill blades carried faintly on the breeze.
Jin dropped from the railing, boots hitting planks with a dull thud. The cask thumped beside him.
Not bad… cleaner than Shimotsuki Village, at least. Fewer drunks in the street. Quiet. Feels… homey.
He glanced up, violet eyes scanning rooftops and narrow alleys.
"Hey there, young man!"
A voice, hoarse but warm.
An old man approached, white hair sticking from under a cap marked with faded red lines. Wire spectacles perched on his sunburned nose.
"You new around here?" the elder asked, leaning on a gnarled cane.
Must be the village head…
Jin offered a faint, practiced smile. "Just helping the merchant ship deliver this," he said, nodding to the barrel. "Figured I'd stick around a bit. The windmills caught my eye."
"Ha! Good taste!" the elder chuckled, eyes wrinkling into friendly crescents. "I'm Mayor Woop Slap — but everyone just calls me Woop-san. If you need anything, ask."
"I might do that," Jin said mildly. "Thanks, old man."
Woop-san nodded, pointing. "Biggest building down the lane there — that's Makino's bar. She'll sign for the barrel."
Jin raised a hand in thanks, lifting the cask like it weighed nothing, and strolled into the village proper. Chickens scattered from his path, a dog barked and fell silent. The windmill blades above creaked in rhythm.
Small place. Honest place. Fuck, it almost feels too clean.
He smirked, violet eyes catching the last gold glint off the horizon.
Alright, Makino… let's see if reality matches the legend.
And with the sun dipping below the sea, Jin stepped through the open door of the bar — carrying fate, rumor, and a barrel of the good stuff on one shoulder.
This story is inspired from various fanfics i have read from around the world so if you find any similarities please dont mind . Thank you
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T/N :
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