20 early chapters on Pátreon.com/Herd99.
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Loguetown woke up louder than usual.
Not the chaos of pirates or the clang of Marine alarms—this was the warm hum of celebration.
Streamers flapped between buildings, balloons bobbed above stalls, and the smell of grilled skewers and sweet buns drifted through the streets like a trap.
Kain stood at the edge of the town square, hands buried in his coat pockets. He hadn't been briefed on this. No alert from Tashigi, no hint from Smoker. And yet here he was, watching a brass band tune their instruments in front of a hand-painted banner that read:
"THANK YOU, CAPTAIN KAIN!"
His brow twitched.
"What… is this?" he muttered, already regretting getting out of bed.
Tashigi appeared beside him, holding a plate of red bean mochi. "Surprise," she said.
Kain blinked at her. "You're joking."
She smiled, offering the plate. "It's your farewell party, Lieutenant—I mean, Captain Kain. The town, the bounty office, the entire Marine base chipped in. They wanted to say thank you."
He squinted at the crowd, genuinely confused. "Thank me for what? I've barely done anything."
"You've done more than you think," she replied, matter-of-fact. "Maybe you didn't notice it, but people look up to you."
Kain stared at her, then at the crowd. One of the local kids—the loud one who always begged for free training—waved at him from a stall. A few civilians nodded as they passed, their faces oddly sincere.
Kain rubbed his temple. "This is so much worse than a disciplinary meeting."
Right on cue, the Shonen System chimed in.
[System Notification: Friendship Level Increased! Reward: +1,000 BSP for making friends with the town and Marines.]
He sighed. "You've got to be kidding me. I'm getting points for having friends now?"
Tashigi tilted her head. "Something wrong?"
Kain forced a smile. "Nope. Just choking on sentiment."
Kain was dragged—politely, insistently—through the streets. Civilians handed him gifts. Marines slapped him on the back like they were proud of something. A stall vendor presented him with a special combo platter named "The Lazy Captain Feast."
There were speeches. One of them was from a local grandmother who called him a "calming presence in troubled times." Another speech was from a Marine recruit who said Kain taught him the importance of "resting with intent."
"Resting with intent?" Kain whispered under his breath. "I would be so proud if I didn't feel like hurling."
But he stayed quiet. He let them talk, let the crowd cheer. He even accepted a flower crown from a group of kids who clearly didn't know better.
It was… exhausting.
But not in the usual way. Not physically. Not even mentally.
It was the kind of exhaustion that came from being seen in a way you didn't ask for. The kind where people projected their own hopes onto you, and you had no choice but to carry it—even if you never wanted to.
As dusk settled in and the festival turned gold under lantern light, Kain quietly slipped away from the crowd. No smoke bomb, no flashy exit. Just a slow walk, one street at a time, until the noise faded behind him.
He ended up on the roof of the Marine base, the same spot he always wandered to when things got too loud. From up here, Loguetown looked smaller. Simpler. Like the world he wanted to live in wasn't completely out of reach.
The door creaked open.
Tashigi again. Of course.
She handed him a cup of coffee without a word and stood beside him, both of them staring out at the sea.
"You ever get tired of being told you matter?" Kain asked.
She chuckled softly. "You ever try believing it?"
He sipped the drink, then frowned. "Too bitter."
"It's not the coffee," she said, smiling faintly. "You're just not used to warmth."
Kain didn't reply. He just drank it anyway.
The wind off the coast had picked up.
Kain and Tashigi stood side by side on the Marine base rooftop. Below them, the party still echoed faintly—laughter, music, the occasional pop of fireworks. But up here, it was just them and the sea.
"You know," Tashigi said after a long pause, "I used to think justice had to be loud."
Kain grinned teasingly. "Yelling-while-slashing justice?"
She laughed. "Something like that. The kind that charges into danger, makes speeches, swings a blade for every cause." Her fingers tightened slightly around the teacup. "But you… you changed that for me."
He looked away. "I didn't do anything."
"You didn't have to," she said. "That's the point."
She reached into the satchel slung at her side and pulled something out, wrapped in silk cloth. She held it for a second before offering it to him.
Kain didn't take it right away. His eyes narrowed as the wrapping loosened and the moonlight caught the faint glint of crimson along a black Katana.
"…Murasame?" he said slowly. An image of Akame, one of the very few anime protagonists he actually enjoyed, super imposed itself on Tashigi.
Tashigi nodded. "A gift from an unknown 'friend' after my promotion to Lieutenant. No lecture, no conditions. Just found it on my desk the following morning with a note warning me of the poisoned edge."
"Ah heck, guess it doesn't take a genius to figure it out." He scratched the back of his neck.
"Nope. Minimal effort even when lying. Sometimes, I'm awed by your dedication to laziness." Tashigi giggled.
"For your information, it cost me a thousand points. I could've bought a month's worth of nap passes."
Tashigi smiled. "Why did you really give it to me?"
Kain sighed, leaning against the rail. "Because you give a damn. You've got that annoying sense of purpose I'll never have. I figured if I could support it—even just a little—I'd be doing something useful."
A long silence followed.
Then the Shonen System chimed.
[System Notification: Loyal Eternal Friend Marked! Reward: +5,000 BSP.]
Kain blinked. "Five thousand? For being… supportive? System, your standards are weird."
Tashigi tilted her head. "Did you say something?"
"Uh. No. Just… processing my internal monologue."
She stepped closer, her voice softer. "You were the first person to believe in me without making it a performance. I won't forget that."
Kain took a breath, long and slow, letting it settle in his chest.
He didn't say anything, but a small smile tugged at the corner of his mouth.
The coffee was gone. Tashigi had gone back downstairs, leaving behind quiet and a bit of warmth. Kain stayed on the rooftop, leaning against the ledge, half-asleep with his eyes open.
The door creaked once more.
Smoker.
This time he didn't say anything at first. Just walked over, pulled a second bottle of sake from under his coat, and tossed one to Kain.
They drank in silence. The ocean stretched out in front of them like it always did—wide, cold, endless.
"You know where they're sending you yet?" Smoker asked.
"Somewhere on the Grand Line, probably" Kain said. "Not a lot of details. Just a summons to Marineford."
Smoker nodded. "Figures. HQ thinks highly of you now."
Kain gave him a sidelong look. "Because of you, by the way. If I find out you mailed in that recording on purpose, I swear to Oda Smokey—"
"Relax," Smoker said, exhaling smoke. "It wasn't me. Might've been Tashigi, though. Or one of the rookies. You've got a fan club now, apparently."
Kain groaned. "Disgusting traitors. All of em."
Smoker chuckled. "You'll need to get used to that. You're a Captain now. Command comes with attention."
"I didn't want this."
"Well it happened. Deal with it."
They sat in the silence again, the sound of the waves filling in the spaces between the words.
Kain set the sake bottle down. "I'm not ready for the Grand Line."
"No one is," Smoker said. "Not really."
Kain looked at the stars. "Still... I'll figure something out. I've got a couple years before the real storm hits."
He put canon to less than 5 years to Luffy and the Straw Hats sailing the seas.
Smoker raised an eyebrow. "Storm?"
Kain shook his head. "Never mind. Just… keep an eye on Tashigi."
"She doesn't need babysitting."
"I know. But she trusts you. That means something."
Smoker glanced at him, then nodded once. "I'll watch her back. Same way you did. Though with that fancy Katana on par with the 12 Ochimonji with her...she'll be the one watching mine."
"Too much to hope she won't run you through."
Kain stood up, brushing off his coat. "Guess I should get some sleep before the send-off tomorrow."
As he turned to go, Smoker said one more thing.
"Next time we meet, I'm not settling for a draw."
Kain paused, then smiled lazily over his shoulder. "Good. That means I can put off the rematch for another five years."
And with that, he disappeared down the stairwell, leaving behind a half-empty bottle and a man who, despite everything, respected the hell out of him.