Paper Airplane (Finale)

In the early morning at Hachinosu Harbor, the fog had not yet completely dissipated. A layer of light gray moisture pressed down on the sea, extending from the surface all the way to the wooden planks at the edge of the pier, where it condensed into fine water droplets. The horizon in the distance was still dark, with only a faint, almost invisible white layer on the sky, like a shadow cast before dawn arrived.

Lin Yuan stood in a room on the first floor of the Castle, an open trunk in front of him. The trunk wasn't large, and it didn't contain much—a change of clothes, a folded nautical chart, several letters that Ginny had sorted out, and a sword. The sword lay horizontally on top of the trunk, its scabbard dark and undecorated, appearing particularly serene in the dim light of the room. It was Roger's sword.

He bent down and took the sword from the box, weighing it in his hand. The weight of the blade was concentrated in front of the hilt, and it was slightly shorter than his own sword. He placed the sword on the table, neither putting it back in the box nor hanging it back on his waist, but simply leaving it on the table. Then he straightened up, closed the box, and the lock clicked softly as it went down, like completing the final step of a journey.

He stepped out of the room and walked down the corridor toward the harbor. The doors on both sides of the corridor were closed, and the light from the windows was not yet fully bright. At the end of the corridor was the Castle gate, where the light had already turned from gray to white, with a faint golden hue visible at the edges.

When he stepped out of the Castle, people were already waiting at the harbor. Not everyone was there, but those who were supposed to be were. Kaido sat on a wooden crate at the edge of the dock, his Iron Club leaning against a pillar beside him, holding nothing. Bullet stood beside Kaido, his right arm wound healed, arms crossed, his posture relaxed. Kuma stood beside Ginny was wearing her usual coat and not carrying a ledger. Zephyr stood a little further away from the others, his hands behind his back, looking at the sea. Moria squatted at the edge of the dock, hugging his shadow. Inazuma stood beside Moria, his scissors tucked into his waistband, not drawn. King stood below the mast, Huijin standing beside him.

Lin Yuan descended the steps, his footsteps clear and even on the open ground. He stopped at the edge of the dock. His gaze swept over everyone present, from Kaido to Bullet, to Kuma and Ginny, to Zephyr, to Moria and Inazuma, and then to King and Huijin —he saw and confirmed everyone.

"I'm leaving," he said.

Kaido didn't speak. He stood up from the wooden crate, picked up the Iron Club from the pillar, and slung it over his shoulder. "The Void has been refueled, and there's food and fresh water in the cabin. Enough to last you until the next stop."

Lin Yuan walked towards the Void. The ship was moored at the end of the dock, the deck empty, the sails not yet raised, hanging limply in the morning light. His footsteps made a softer sound than expected as he stepped onto the gangway. He walked onto the deck without looking back, went to the bow, reached out and grabbed the sail rope, pulling it taut. The sails began to rise, billowing in the sea breeze with a taut sound. The ship tilted slightly for a moment as the sails filled with wind, then righted itself. The gangway was retracted from the side, and the mooring lines were released from the bollards.

The ship began to move. The Void slowly drifted outward from the port, its bow turning towards the open sea. In the morning light, the ship cast a long, thin shadow that covered the edge of the dock, then glided over the dock and onto the water outside the port, gradually shortening in the morning light.

Everyone on the dock was looking in the direction of the Void. No one waved, and no one spoke.

As the ship sailed out of the harbor, the wind began to pick up. The sails billowed, and the hull rose and fell steadily on the waves, its course pointing straight out to sea. The morning light had already bathed the sea in a pale gold hue. Lin Yuan stood at the bow, the sea breeze blowing against him, ruffling his clothes and hair. He didn't turn around, nor did he look back. He pulled something from his pocket—a piece of paper, folded, its edges frayed, the creases deep. Lin Yuan unfolded the paper, confirming it was still intact. It was the Paper Airplane he had folded when he defected, the starting point of this pirate story. Back then, he had stood on another shore, facing the rising sun, and folded the same one. He tossed the Paper Airplane, just like now, into the sea. Back then, the creases weren't as deep, the edges of the paper hadn't curled, and the original date he'd written on it was still visible. He held the Paper Airplane to his face, paused for a moment, then handed it over, letting the sea breeze support the edges from below. The Paper Airplane drifted steadily forward in the sea breeze, first flying about ten meters along the bow of the ship, then beginning to climb with the help of the wind, entering a higher airflow layer from a low altitude, finally flying in front of the Void, casting a long, thin shadow in the morning light. The shape of that shadow wasn't that of Paper Airplane —it was the outline of a bird, with outstretched wingtips and a slender body.

The sea breeze was still blowing. The Paper Airplane flew higher and higher, farther and farther away. Sunlight shone from behind, shining through the paper and turning it into a translucent gold. Then, at an unpredictable moment, it transformed into a white seagull, spreading its wings and flying towards the horizon. Its wings shimmered in the morning light, growing farther and farther away, until it finally disappeared into the distant dawn.

Lin Yuan's gaze followed that direction until it disappeared at the edge of his vision. He withdrew his gaze and faced the sea ahead, where the morning light had already filled the entire horizon. The bow of the Void cut through the waves, leaving a gradually spreading white contrail at its stern. A new sunrise was unfolding ahead, and the light on the sea was becoming complete and even, as if ready to welcome the next leg of the voyage.

The ship sailed into the distance, the sea shimmering with golden light in the morning glow. The ship's silhouette grew smaller and smaller on the water, eventually merging into the golden light.

The door opened. The world changed. He left.

(The End)