Three Years (1)

Orange Town had changed tremendously compared to three years ago.

The newly paved bluestone road stretched from the docks all the way to the town center. The shops along the street had been renovated, their wooden walls coated with tung oil that gleamed honey-gold beneath the afternoon sun.

Dozens of cargo ships were docked in the harbor, and most of the masts flew red-and-white fan emblems—the fleet of the Uchiha Trading Company.

There were far more dockworkers than three years ago. They unloaded goods swiftly, without the lazy dawdling of the past, because the Uchiha Trading Company's rules were clear: the more work you did, the more you earned. Slackers were replaced outright. They did not withhold wages, but neither did they keep idlers.

When the rules were first introduced, plenty of people cursed. Now that dockworkers earned several times what they had three years ago, the cursing had stopped.

The windows on the second floor of the town hall stood open, and the sea breeze carried in the smell of fish.

Ando sat behind the mayor's desk, a stack of account books spread before him.

He was noticeably thinner than three years ago, his cheekbones more pronounced, but the greatest change was in his eyes.

When Damian had first met Ando, his gaze had been weary and lost. Now, it was different.

There was light in his eyes—the look of a man who had been suppressed for more than a decade and could finally do something.

He held a quill in his right hand, writing as he spoke.

"Docking fees in the harbor district brought in twelve million Beli this month, seven percent more than last month." Ando turned a page in the ledger, the quill scratching softly across the paper.

"Eleven independent boats have newly joined the company. The Konomi Archipelago transport fleet and several new fruit shipping fleets have also signed new quarterly contracts."

He glanced at the person seated opposite him and continued, "Mr. Barlow said he wants to expand the route into the High District of the Goa Kingdom. We need docking permits from the harbor there."

Sitting across from him was Uchiha Mila.

The girl who had bitten through a pirate's throat in an alley fight three years ago had now fully grown into her features.

Her dark hair was tied into a high ponytail behind her head. Her cheekbones had become sharper, and the curve of her brows and eyes lay somewhere between keen and coldly beautiful.

The girl behind her was named Rosa.

Rosa was not tall. Her light brown hair fell just to her shoulders, and a shell hairpin was clipped above her forehead.

Her features were delicate, and the corners of her lips naturally curved upward, making her seem as if she were always smiling.

But this smile was different from the one she had worn while pleasing customers at Melton's casino three years ago. That smile had been forced. This one had gradually grown on her after spending so long with Mila.

She wore a plain fitted dress, with a short blade tucked at her waist. Its hilt had been polished bright, clearly well maintained.

Ando closed the ledger and leaned back in his chair, his tone relaxed. "Edwin used to take fifty percent in taxes. Dockworkers got paid once every two months, and the Sea Serpent Gang charged protection money on top of that. Now the docks take ten percent as a management fee, while the market takes five percent."

He chuckled and went on, "Last month, a dockworker broke his leg. Mr. Barlow approved fifty thousand Beli for his medical expenses. Back when Melton and the Sea Serpent Gang were around, anyone who broke a leg was not even allowed back onto the docks."

Ando pushed the ledger to one side of the desk and looked at Mila. "When my father was alive, he used to call me useless. He said merchants should squeeze every last Beli out of people. If he were still alive and saw me lowering the cut this much, he would probably curse me all over again."

"If he were still alive, you'd still be locked up at home." Mila's voice was calm, without a trace of mockery. She was merely stating a fact.

Ando paused, then nodded. "True."

He opened a drawer, took out a document sealed with wax, and pushed it toward Mila. "This is next month's dock expansion plan. It needs the company's funding approval. Mr. Barlow said last week that he wanted to review it. I revised it three times. This is the final version."

Mila took the document without opening it and handed it to Rosa behind her.

Rosa accepted it and placed it inside the leather document tube she carried.

"Barlow won't be back from the Konomi Archipelago until tomorrow." Mila rose to her feet. "I'll give it to him."

Ando stood as well. After hesitating for a moment, he asked something that was not on the agenda.

"Miss Mila, has Mr. Barlow mentioned anything about the Grand Line lately?"

Mila looked at him, and Ando immediately explained.

"I'm not trying to pry. A merchant ship came over from Loguetown last month. They said someone was asking about routes from the East Blue to the Grand Line, and they were offering a high price."

"My second brother handles the company's affairs." Mila's tone did not soften. "Do your job as mayor. Keep the docks and the market from causing trouble. You don't need to worry about anything else."

Ando nodded and did not ask again. He had understood the Uchiha family's rules three years ago.

Mila turned and headed for the door, Rosa following behind her. Ando saw them to the doorway and stopped there.

The first time he had seen Mila off three years ago, he had tried to follow her downstairs, only to be nailed in place by a single look. Ever since then, he had known that seeing guests to the door was enough.

After Mila and Rosa left, Ando stood by the second-floor window of the town hall. From there, he could see the entire street.

The sun had just dipped below the horizon, and the streetlights by the docks lit up one after another.

Dockworkers who had finished unloading walked toward the taverns in twos and threes, their pockets filled with wages settled that very day.

Three years. Ando turned those words over in his heart.

Three years ago, this street would be empty by five in the afternoon. It was not that people did not want to go outside. They simply did not dare.

Once night fell, Sea Serpent Gang members went door to door collecting security fees. Melton's casino stayed open until dawn, but ordinary people who walked through those doors had a nine-in-ten chance of crawling back out.

Back then, the dock streetlights had been broken for half a month without anyone fixing them, because the repair money had been skimmed away layer by layer into pockets no one could identify.

What had his father said when he was alive? "Dockworkers don't need streetlights. They have hands and feet. Can't they walk in the dark?"

Ando pressed his forehead against the glass, its chill seeping into his skin.

He remembered his father sitting behind that mahogany desk downstairs, stuffing tobacco into his pipe while calling him an idiot.

Edwin had been a shrewd merchant—shrewd enough to thrive between Melton and the Sea Serpent Gang, shrewd enough to raise the dock cut from thirty percent to fifty without even blinking.

His governing philosophy had been simple enough to boil down to one sentence: whoever gives me money gets my stamp.

How had his father handled that dockworker strike?

Ando remembered perfectly. He had called in the Sea Serpent Gang and broken three of the ringleader's ribs.

The strike ended the next day. At dinner, his father had smugly said, "These people are like donkeys. Whip them enough, and they behave."

That had been bloodsucking.

Now Ando had something to compare it with. He finally understood.

It was not management, nor was it business. It was not even exploitation. At least exploitation fed the livestock before sending them out to work.

It was bloodsucking.

You stuck a tube into the docks' veins and drained them until there was nothing left. Once this place had been sucked dry, you moved on to the next.

When Uchiha Barlow had first come to speak with him, Ando had thought they were simply replacing one tube with another.

Instead, Barlow had sat across from him, spread out a hand-drawn map of East Blue shipping routes, and said, "Orange Town's docks cannot handle all the Konomi Archipelago's catch because independent boat owners have nowhere to berth. Expand the docks, charge berthing fees by ship type, and charge independents twenty percent less than merchant fleets. Once they make money, they'll bring in goods from more ports. Then Orange Town will become the Orange Town of the East Blue."

Ando had been stunned for quite a while. He searched through every scrap of experience in his mind and found no suitable response.

In the end, he had asked a very stupid question. "Then what do you earn?"

Barlow had looked at him and said, "Use the money the docks earn to maintain roads, repair lights, and build up the town. The money the company earns is on the next route map."

It had taken Ando three months to fully understand what Barlow meant.

He had run the numbers. Docking fees had been halved, but the number of ships had increased severalfold. The market cut had dropped to five percent, but the number of stalls had risen from forty to three hundred. Dockworkers' daily wages had doubled, but their wives and children spent that money at the market buying fish, vegetables, and cloth.

Money was not meant to be sucked upward. It was meant to flow.

Ando lifted his forehead from the glass and turned to look at the dock expansion proposal on the desk.

He signed his name at the end of the document. Beside it was an empty space awaiting Barlow's signature.

A scene suddenly came to mind: his father signing documents in that same spot, the fountain pen piercing through the paper from pressing too hard.

Ando picked up his quill, dipped it in ink, and carefully wrote a line in the remarks section at the bottom of the document.

"Recommend reserving the easternmost berths of the new dock for independent boat owners, adjacent to merchant fleet berths, so they can use merchant fleet routes to transport goods."

After writing it, he set down the quill and laughed softly.

He had made a similar suggestion to Barlow last month. Barlow had only said four words: "Run the numbers carefully."

Ando really had run them.

If independent boat owners could use the merchant fleets' favorable routes, they could earn an extra two hundred thousand Beli per trip.

Two hundred thousand Beli was enough to feed a small cargo ship owner's entire family for two months. For Orange Town's market, it meant new sources of goods for dozens of stalls. For the Uchiha Trading Company, it meant collecting berth fees, unloading management fees, and a cut from every market transaction.

Ando leaned back in his chair as the streetlights outside stretched his shadow long and thin.

He spoke to himself, so quietly that only the ledger on the desk could hear him. "The Uchiha are different from my father."

"They aren't sucking blood. They're diverting water."

The street outside the town hall was bustling with people.

Two fishmongers pushed handcarts over from the market, piled high with chilled fresh fish that had arrived from the Konomi Archipelago that morning.

When they saw Mila, they stopped at the same time, moved their carts to the side of the road, lowered their heads, and bowed.

Mila gave them a slight nod in return without slowing down.

Rosa walked half a step behind her, a habit formed over the past three years.

"Come on. Let's get a drink." Mila looked back at Rosa.

"Huh?"

Before Rosa could answer, Mila headed toward the market without looking back, leaving Rosa no choice but to jog after her.

As they passed through the market, an elderly fruit seller waved at Rosa and called, "Miss Rosa!" Rosa returned her smile but did not stop.

They turned into an alley paved with stone slabs. At its end stood an old banyan tree, its canopy shading half the street. Beneath its shade was the Red Skull Tavern.

The tavern's storefront had been renovated. The old wooden door had been removed and replaced with double glass doors framed in iron. Above the entrance hung a restored red skull sign. Keeping that sign had been Roy's idea—he said regular customers would not run off if they saw something familiar.

Rosa paused at the entrance. Noisy voices and the clinking of glasses came through the glass doors, and she could see that the tavern was fairly full.

She squeezed the strap of her document tube and said, "Miss Mila, how about I wait outside?"

Mila tilted her head toward her. "What are you afraid of?"

"I'm not afraid." Rosa paused, then admitted honestly, "Places like taverns are always troublesome for women."

Mila reached out and pushed open the door. She looked back with a smile, made an inviting gesture, and said, "Don't worry. We'll be fine."