Sora shook off his lingering frustration.
Turning to Genzo, he asked, "By the way, Uncle Genzo, why do you always wear that windmill on your head? Could I have it?"
"Windmill?" Genzo paused, touching the spinning pinwheel on his hat, lost in thought.
Noticing his shift, Sora prodded, "What's wrong, Uncle Genzo? Can't part with it?"
"It's not that I can't," Genzo replied, snapping back. "This windmill means something special to someone."
"Someone?"
"Yeah. A strong, brave person."
Sora knew who he meant but played dumb. "Who's that?"
Genzo gazed toward the tangerine grove behind the village, slowly recounting Nami's story.
When he spoke of Nami and the windmill, a gentle smile crossed his face. When he mentioned her joining the Arlong Pirates, his eyes burned with hatred.
When he described her returning to the village, battered and bruised, his voice ached with sorrow.
Under the Arlong Pirates' oppression, Nami had become the sole light in his and the villagers' hearts.
They'd always known why she joined Arlong, why she came back wounded from every trip. But they were powerless to help. All they could do was avoid burdening her, letting her cling to the delusion that she could buy back the village from Arlong.
They knew it was a pipe dream, but it was Nami's only hope. They couldn't be the ones to crush it. If it had to break, it needed to happen gently.
If Nami lost hope, their one light would go out.
Shaking his head, Genzo let go of his hatred for the Arlong Pirates. Seeing the villagers' smiles return, he smiled too. It felt like the days before Arlong's reign.
"It's over. All of it."
With Arlong gone, Nami must be overjoyed. No more sailing for money, no more drawing those cursed maps for Arlong. She could be Cocoyasi's little princess again—free to laugh, cry, and feel without hiding her pain.
Gratitude swelled as he glanced at Kuina. "I don't know how to thank them enough."
Dismissing his thoughts, Genzo turned to Sora. "Oh, right—what do you want the windmill for?"
Sora eyed the pinwheel, grinning. "I was curious, seeing it on your head all the time. Plus, I'm thinking about our pirate flag. Why not make it a windmill?"
The windmill reminded him of Windmill Village, home of this world's protagonist, Monkey D. Luffy. It seemed fitting. A hammer and sickle or five stars? Too familiar, too likely to cause trouble.
Windmills symbolized courage, diligence, ambition, loyalty, joy, agility, and love—a passion for the sky, a fairy-tale happiness. That was his pursuit.
He wanted himself and those he cherished to live like windmills: free of sorrow, pain, or disaster, forever happy, healthy, and fulfilled.
"I see!" Genzo hesitated, then removed the windmill, offering it. "Here, take it."
Sora didn't accept, smiling instead. "Nah, Uncle Genzo, I just wanted a reference for the flag. That windmill's tied to your memories with Nami. I'm not about to steal a little girl's childhood toy."
Genzo, seeing Sora's sincerity, reattached the windmill to his hat. It wasn't that he couldn't part with it—it was just an ordinary pinwheel.
Nami was grown now, no longer giggling at it like she did as a kid. It was a keepsake, a hope that her visits would bring the same joy, spinning away her troubles.
"How about this? I'll find some cloth later and paint you a windmill flag myself. Sound good?"
"That's too kind!" Sora's face lit up. "Thanks, Uncle Genzo!"
He was genuinely thrilled at Genzo's offer—not because his own drawing skills were atrocious, of course.
"No trouble at all. Painting a pirate flag for Cocoyasi's saviors? It's my honor." Genzo seemed even more eager than Sora, excited to contribute.
Sora thanked him again, watching Genzo's retreating figure. Raising his wine gourd, he took a satisfied sip. "Nice."
Then, like a lord, he lounged back, basking in the sun. Spring's noon rays were surprisingly soothing.
---
Dusk
The setting sun cast a warm glow over Cocoyasi. In the village's main road, several large bonfires roared, surrounded by platters of grilled meat, fruits, and seafood.
The long-oppressed villagers shed their masks. Some wept openly, others laughed wildly, and a few shouted like madmen. They needed this release.
Ahua, Alo, and Ata were dragged into the crowd by young villagers, joining the simple, heartfelt dance around the bonfires.
By one fire, Sora sat cross-legged, sipping from his gourd. Kuina leaned on his shoulder, her flushed face watching the dancing crowd. She loved this kind of feast.
Despite working from noon to dusk, she felt no fatigue—only deep fulfillment. For the first time, she, who never drank, had a few cups.
Her eyes hazy, Kuina looked up at Sora. "Hey, Sora."
He turned, smiling at her adorable expression. "What's up?"
"Should I get a title?"
"A title?"
Kuina tilted her head, pondering. "Hmm…"
She frowned, racking her brain but coming up empty. Looking at Sora, her big, beautiful eyes glimmered with a pitiful plea. Grabbing his arm, she shook it. "I can't think of one, Sora. Pick one for me!"
"Alright, alright, stop shaking—I'll fall apart!" Sora chuckled. "Our adventure crew's called the Freedom Pirates, with a windmill flag."
He stroked his chin, then his eyes sparkled. "How about… Goddess of Freedom?"
He burst out laughing. "Hahaha!"
Kuina, unsure why he was laughing, joined in with a silly giggle. "Goddess of Freedom? Sounds kinda cool… sigh."
(End of Chapter)