Chapter Twenty-Eight: Akin's Departure

"When are we setting out?" Jason's eyes never left the nautical chart in his hand, and though he stood here in body, his mind had already flown to the Grand Line. For a pirate, the chance to brave the Grand Line was a source of immense pride. In the past, their exploits had been nothing more than petty skirmishes, far from possessing the strength needed for such a journey. Now, with the opportunity before him, excitement surged within him.

It wasn't just Jason; since learning that they would set sail for the Grand Line, Gin had been equally exhilarated. Before they were captured by Loren, Creek had always planned to venture to the Grand Line. Back then, preparations seemed endless and arduous—never as simple as Loren had made it sound. If they wished to go, they simply went.

This was the power of strength.

Once again, Gin found himself grateful for choosing the right person to follow and turned his gaze back to Loren, clearly awaiting his answer.

"The sooner, the better, naturally. A well-organized intelligence network will be of great help to me," Loren replied with a smile. "Although there is an intelligence group aboard my mentor’s ship, I do not entirely trust them. You are the only ones I truly have faith in. Do you understand?"

"Yes," Jason and Gin exchanged a smile, both understanding that their cooperation would only deepen from here.

Loren then spent some time telling them about the Grand Line and teaching them how to use the log pose—basic knowledge, easily grasped and quickly learned.

Once they had mastered the use of the log pose, Loren returned alone to Creek’s pirate ship, watching Jason and Gin sail away. Preparations for the Grand Line seemed endless in theory, but in truth, all one needed was a chart and a log pose. Anything else was not Loren’s concern; when it came to life at sea, he could not match the experience of these pirates. They would know what else was necessary.

"Mr. Gin—what about him?" one of the pirates asked Loren, mustering enough courage while gazing at the distant pirate ship. Just moments ago, Loren had taken Mr. Gin aboard the Stone Pirates’ ship; now, only Loren had returned.

"He has gone with the Stone Pirates to handle some matters for me," Loren explained, casting a sidelong glance at the pirate. Otherwise, rumors—absurd and unchecked—might have spread among them. Though he cared little for their opinions, he still needed these men for menial tasks; if they angered him and he killed them, who would do the work?

"Is that so?" The pirate, favorably disposed toward Loren, did not doubt his words. Instead, he found himself envying Gin and the Stone Pirates. To follow someone as strong as Loren was surely to have a boundless future—unlike themselves, who would lose their freedom upon reaching the naval base.

Still, he dared not entertain other thoughts. Those who had once plotted to attack Loren by night had long since become food for the fish. Compared to a life without freedom, survival was clearly more important.

Only when Jason’s ship disappeared below the horizon did Loren finally turn and make his way to the cabin, entering the helm.

"What’s the nearest town?" he asked, thinking of little Donna. She was his sister now, and he had no intention of letting her suffer.

"Shelz Town, sir," the navigator replied after glancing at the chart.

"Then set sail for Shelz Town," Loren said, not realizing at first that it was anything more than an ordinary small town.

"But there’s a navy base there, and the naval captain, Morgan, is infamous for his cruelty toward pirates," the navigator said hesitantly, though it wasn’t his place to interfere with the route.

"Morgan?" Loren was taken aback, then suddenly recalled the man—promoted to lieutenant for mistakenly believing he’d captured Kuro the Black Cat under hypnosis, then becoming the tyrant ruler of Shelz Town.

"Remove any pirate insignias from the ship," Loren instructed. "I have no intention of handing you over to Morgan. We’re only stopping there so I can buy my sister some clothes."

"Understood." The navigator nodded and left to relay Loren’s orders.

The pirates moved swiftly. By the time Loren emerged from the helm, the entire deck was a flurry of activity—flags being lowered, sails replaced. Anything that marked them as pirates was being stripped away. With Creek gone, the ship’s old identity no longer mattered; removing the signs was of no consequence.

When Nami stepped out of the cabin with little Donna, freshly bathed, she was utterly stunned.

Who am I? Where am I? What just happened?

The entire environment had changed. All traces of piracy had vanished from the ship.

"What’s going on?" Nami asked Loren at the prow.

"We’re heading to Shelz Town, so I ordered the pirates to remove anything that might bring trouble," Loren explained.

Nami nodded in understanding. She knew well the risks of approaching a large town with a navy base. Even if Loren wasn’t truly a pirate, sailing a pirate ship into port would invite cannon fire before explanations could be made. She had considered suggesting the very same thing days ago.

"This is how little Donna should look," Loren said with a smile, looking at Donna, now transformed—her golden hair, her slim but adorable face, and her odd but well-fitting clothes. The dirty little girl from before was gone.

A sweet child should remain sweet.

He knelt beside her, smiling gently. "From now on, you’ll live with your big brother. No matter where I go, I won’t leave you behind."

"Okay," Donna nodded vigorously. The fear in her eyes had faded with their departure from Rosia Island; she felt no longing for her old home.

"Come on, let’s eat," Loren said, scooping her up and heading inside.

Dinner was simple, as Loren had arranged—nothing extravagant, but perfect for Donna. As she sipped her porridge, still remembering to ask if Loren had eaten, he finally understood why, in his previous life, so many men doted on their daughters.

If he’d had a daughter like this, he would have become just the same.

Sadly, in his past life, he’d remained single until the end, never knowing the experience.