Orange Grove.
Ripe oranges hung like little lanterns from the branches, weighing them down heavily. Occasionally, one would be blown off by the wind, landing with a soft "thud" amidst the grass and leaves, releasing a delicate, fragrant aroma.
Nojiko stood on a wooden ladder nestled between the tree branches, her blue hair loosely tied back with a cloth strip. A few stray strands clung to the side of her neck, damp with sweat.
She reached out to pick a reddish-orange fruit, her nail piercing the peel. Sweet juice immediately trickled down between her fingers. She instinctively licked her fingertip and tossed the orange into the bamboo basket with a smile. "Nami, the oranges on the inner tree are perfectly ripe. Go pick those."
Under the tree, Nami was stretching on her tiptoes to reach the higher fruits. Her orange short hair glowed in the sunlight, and the windmill tattoo on her left shoulder peeked out from under her short sleeve.
She hummed in acknowledgment but didn't stop moving, her fingers deftly navigating through the leaves and branches. With a precise twist at the base, she cleanly plucked an orange, its fresh scent wafting as it landed in the basket.
"Nojiko, look at this one!" Nami held up an orange the size of her fist, a vibrant green leaf still clinging to its peel. "Is it big enough?"
Nojiko leaned down from the ladder, the sunlight catching the corners of her smiling eyes. "It's big enough, big enough. Be careful not to fall."
As she spoke, she climbed down the ladder and moved the full basket of oranges into the shade. She settled onto the grass, rubbing her sore lower back.
The wind rustled through the orchard, making the leaves whisper. Nami came over and popped a freshly peeled orange segment into her mouth, the sweet and tangy juice bursting on her tongue.
"We don't have to secretly save money anymore," Nojiko said suddenly, her voice carried softly by the wind but landing clearly in Nami's ears. "Arlong and his crew are gone. The village is safe now. You don't need to do those... those sea jobs anymore."
Nami's hands stilled as she peeled an orange, the white pith sticking to her fingertips.
She knew exactly what Nojiko meant by "jobs"—the money she'd earned by tagging along with pirate ships, risking her life in those covert operations. So Nojiko had known all along.
"None of your business," Nami muttered, her throat suddenly tight. She buried her face in the pile of orange peels, her voice lacking conviction and ending with a slight tremble she hadn't even noticed.
Nojiko watched Nami's reddening earlobes and smiled without replying. She simply picked up another orange and began peeling it slowly. The sunlight fell on her tanned arm, highlighting the fine beads of sweat on her skin.
Nami stole a glance and saw Nojiko stagger slightly as she stood up, her steps still unsteady. The exhaustion in her eyes was unmistakable. Nami's heart suddenly felt as if it had been stung by orange juice—sour and astringent.
"When is that guy... leaving?" Nami blurted out, her tone stiff.
Nojiko paused in her peeling, her voice gentle. "Mr. Ryan said he'll leave when he feels like it."
"Hmph," Nami scoffed, tossing a piece of orange peel to the ground. "You're actually taking that promise seriously? Why are you so stubborn about keeping your word to someone who took advantage of our situation?"
"If you make a promise, you should keep it," Nojiko said earnestly, her fingers lightly tracing the patterns on the orange peel. "Besides, he's helped us so much..."
"Alright, alright, I get it. He's amazing," Nami interrupted impatiently, suddenly standing up and brushing the grass off her skirt. "I'm thirsty. I'm going back for some water."
She turned and walked away, her orange figure flickering between the fruit trees. After a few steps, she couldn't resist glancing back.
Nojiko still sat in the same spot, holding half an unpeeled orange in her hand. Suddenly, she let out a long yawn, quickly covering her mouth with her hand afterward, her shoulders slumping visibly.
The exhaustion she couldn't hide was like sun-wilted orange leaves.
Nami bit her lip and strode quickly toward the wooden cabin, but her heart felt like it was carrying an unripe orange—heavy and bitter.
The cabin door wasn't fully closed. When Nami pushed it open, the wooden hinge let out a soft creak. Sunlight slanted in from the west window, falling precisely on the chair by the window.
Ryan was half-reclining there, hands tucked behind his head, one long leg casually propped on the windowsill. His heel occasionally tapped against the wooden frame, producing a light tapping sound.
He held an unlit cigar between his fingers, his gaze drifting idly toward the orange grove outside. His profile appeared especially relaxed in the play of light and shadow, and his leisurely demeanor made Nami's temper flare.
"Hey!" Nami slammed the door shut, her orange short hair slightly tousled from her hurried pace. "When are you finally leaving?"
Ryan slowly turned his head, glanced at Nami, and paused briefly on her clenched fists. A faint, mocking smile tugged at the corner of his lips. "I'll leave when I've had enough."
"You—" Nami choked on his dismissive attitude, her chest heaving twice before she forcibly suppressed her anger. "I've saved nearly 90 million Belly. I'll give it all to you as repayment for your kindness. Take the money and get out of Cocoyasi Village!"
At this, even Ryan raised an eyebrow.
He knew Nami valued Belly more than her own life—she was the type to hoard every coin. For her to say "90 million Belly, all for you" was genuinely surprising.
No wonder she seemed shrewd but was actually kind-hearted, which explained her popularity.
"I'm not interested in money," Ryan lit his cigar, his tone flat.
Nami froze, clearly not expecting that answer.
She took a deep breath, her clenched fists turning white at the knuckles. After a moment of silence, she lowered her voice, a barely detectable plea in her tone. "Then... stop tormenting Nojiko. She's so exhausted these days she can barely stand. She's not like you—she can't handle this..."
She couldn't finish the sentence, her cheeks flushing bright red.
Ryan shrugged. "I'll be more careful."
It couldn't be helped. His energy had always been far greater than most, and after awakening his Devil Fruit ability, it felt like carrying an inextinguishable fire inside him—always craving more.
If he didn't constantly hold back for Nojiko's sake and truly went all out, she probably wouldn't...
"Careful? Who'd believe that!" Nami's eyes widened, filled with contempt as she snapped, "How can you live with yourself doing this?"
"I do as I please. No one else gets a say."
Ryan looked directly at Nami, the earlier playfulness gone from his eyes, replaced by cold hardness. "Moral coercion doesn't work on me."
He understood Nami's intentions—deliberately acting wounded and angry just to provoke guilt in him. Unfortunately, he was no longer someone bound by such emotions.
Without morals, what could possibly restrain him?
Nami was left speechless, watching Ryan's unyielding demeanor with a mix of anxiety and frustration. Yet, the moment she recalled Nojiko's weary profile, that anger dissolved into a sharp, lingering ache.
She took a deep breath, as if steeling herself with immense resolve, and abruptly lifted her head, her voice trembling slightly. "Then... then I'll take her place. Don't go looking for Nojiko anymore."
This time, Ryan was genuinely taken aback. He looked at Nami—the girl who, despite holding her neck stiffly, had ears flushed bright red. In her eyes, usually swirling with schemes, there was now nothing but undisguised protectiveness.
"You sisters really are..." he suddenly chuckled softly, the smoke ring from his fingertips drifting lazily toward the ceiling, dissipating into a pale haze in the sunlight.
"Enough talk!" Nami snapped sharply, her teeth gritting audibly. "Do you agree or not?"
Ryan didn't answer immediately, his gaze slowly sweeping over Nami.
The girl before him had a slender figure, her shorts and sleeveless top outlining taut, well-defined lines—a lean strength honed from years at sea, every inch of muscle radiating efficiency.
Beneath her orange short hair, her face still held a touch of youthful innocence. Though panic lurked in her eyes, she stubbornly feigned fierceness, exuding an unyielding refusal to admit defeat.
His eyes drifted from her tense shoulders to her clenched fists, a subtle, enigmatic smile curling at the corners of his lips.
This little thief cat was far more interesting than he had imagined.