"Vice Admiral!"
The adjutant presented an envelope with both hands, his posture very formal, holding it flat with the letter facing upwards.
"It was delivered by the Uchiha Trading Company of Commerce; it arrived just as you were going to report for duty."
The adjutant was an old marine who had followed Damian for many years. He always reported only the necessary information and never added a single extra word.
Damian took the letter.
The envelope was made of thick, off-white paper, the standard material used by the Uchiha Trading Company. The paper had a fine texture, and when held up to the light, one could see a subtle, embossed fan-shaped watermark. A drop of deep red Gunbai wax was applied to the seal, with the Gunbai family crest stamped in the center of the wax—simple and sharp.
He ran his thumb along the sealing wax seal, carefully examining the front, back, and four corners along the edge of the seal.
There were no creases, no scratches, and the sealing wax was still intact.
He learned his habit of checking letters from Barlow. Many years ago on White Wax Island, Barlow would do this before opening any letter. At the time, he thought it was unnecessary. Now that he was Marine Vice Admiral and had handled countless classified documents, he had learned one thing: on the Grand Line, you can never guess how many people a letter passes through.
"Has it been disassembled?"
"No," the adjutant answered crisply.
Damian nodded. The adjutant didn't say anything more, turned around and went back to the bridge. Before leaving, he also called away a few sailors who were wiping the mooring lines on the bow deck.
The deck fell silent, save for the rhythm of the waves lapping against the hull and the occasional cry of a seagull above the mast.
Damian used his thumb to break the sealing wax and unfolded the letter.
It's Barlow's handwriting—neat, compact, with each character ending cleanly and crisply, without any unnecessary ligatures, as if the line spacing had been measured with a ruler.
Barlow always wrote with Fountain Pen, using a dark blue ink custom-made by the Uchiha Trading Company. This color was not available on the market; it was specially mixed by an old ink craftsman in Loguetown according to Barlow's requirements, and the formula was known only to the old craftsman and Barlow.
"How have you been, elder brother?"
The letters always began with this sentence, no matter how long it had been since they last corresponded, no matter what the previous letter had ended with. Barlow always started with this question, word for word, as if these six words were a threshold he had to cross before he could continue writing.
"The other day, Koldo received news that you had completed another patrol mission. Roy was eating at a tavern when he heard the news. He slammed his chopsticks on the table and said, 'This kind of trash is worth 74 million? Has the Navy's bounty increased with inflation?' Then Mila tapped him on the forehead with her chopsticks. Mila asked me to tell you that she really misses your grilled fish. She said that ever since you joined the army, the three of us have gone out to eat, and every time we order grilled fish, it feels like something's missing. Roy said it's the habitual arc of his wrist when he sprinkles salt, and then he added, 'Maybe it's the expression on his face when he stands in front of the grill, squinting from the smoke.' I said, 'You two should just say you miss your brother, don't add drama to the grilled fish.'"
A faint smile appeared at the corner of Damian's mouth.
Mila wants to eat grilled fish. The last time he grilled fish for Mila was on White Wax Island, and she arranged the fish bones into a Gunbai shape on the plate.
Roy took a picture, and it's still stuck on the refrigerator in the kitchen of the White Wax Island mansion. He doesn't know when he'll be able to go back to the kitchen and bake a fish again, but at least Mila is willing to express her longing for him in this roundabout way.
He continued reading.
"Roy's patrol team recently expanded, bringing in a new batch of people. The training intensity is so high that even he finds it absurd. He asked me to ask you in a letter what the standard physical fitness test for new naval recruits is. He wants to use it as the passing score for the patrol team's selection test—note, a passing score, not a perfect score. Mila chimed in, saying the standard was too low and they should use the standards for the elite naval forces. Roy yelled at Roy, 'Are you trying to kill them with work?' The two argued for the entire duration of a meal, Mila ultimately won. Roy's defense was, 'If you hadn't been watching me with your Sharingan, afraid I'd ambush you, would I have lost?' Given how childish their argument was, I will not comment."
Barlow's writing maintains its usual calm and restrained tone, but between the lines there is a warmth that only his own people can accurately perceive.
He used as objective language as possible to describe his younger siblings' embarrassing moments, leaving no detail unmentioned, yet he insisted on pretending that he was "just recording the facts."
"Mila recently implemented a new rule in the Underworld: all underground transactions must be signed with a formal contract, in Isshiki, and those who breach the contract will be dealt with according to the contract terms. She said she learned it from you; before the Navy recruits bounty hunters as official intelligence agents, they have to sign agreements with them. She thinks this model can be applied to the underworld. To be honest, it's a good idea; a few people who wanted to exploit loopholes have already been scared off by the contract terms. But frankly, if it weren't for the Uchiha name, agreements would be useless in the Underworld."
"Big brother, come back and get together if you have time. Mila and Roy talk about you every few days. Mila says she'll forget what you look like if you don't come back soon, but that's a lie, of course. She keeps a family photo locked in her desk drawer, and she opens it to look at it before every meeting. I caught her twice, and she insisted she 'accidentally found it while organizing files.' Roy, on the other hand, doesn't hide anything. He hung a full-body portrait of you on the training field, saying it's for demonstration purposes. 'The standard starting stance for Uchiha Style Swordsmanship; if you can't learn it, practice in front of the portrait Tenten.' Now, the first thing new recruits do upon joining is salute your portrait."
Damian chuckled. "That Roy guy, why hang up a portrait of him? He's not dead."
"Don't worry about the Chamber of Commerce. The route expansion plan we made before the new year is progressing smoothly, and we've signed contracts with two more ports than expected. I just reviewed the Water 7's third-quarter financial statements; it's up 17 percent compared to the same period last year. I won't go into the details in this letter; we'll discuss it in person when you get back." He added at the end, "Let's meet in Water 7 first, then head back to White Wax Island together. Gwen and Gray are waiting for us at home."
The last paragraph stands alone, its tone abruptly halting, pulling all the preceding playful looseness back to Barlow's precise greeting:
"I suspect you don't have much vacation time, but a few days of rest should be enough. A top-floor room has been reserved for you in Water 7 Seven, the same one you used to stay in. Your adjutant also needs rest; let him wander around Water 7 as he pleases. The sunset over the waterways here is beautiful."
"Di Barlow"
Below the signature is a line of smaller text, clearly added later, with ink slightly darker than the main text:
"Roy asked me to write at the end of the letter, 'Brother, please come back soon. Every time Mila and I argue, Barlow always sides with her. I don't have enough firepower in the argument.' -- These are Roy's exact words; I am only recording them."
Damian folded the letter, tucked it into his pocket, and, taking advantage of the adjutant's inattention, quickly wiped the corner of his eye with his finger.
He held the envelope to his nose and smelled the faint turpentine scent of the ink; the navy-issued ink smelled of soot, unlike this.
This scent represents home.
The White Bird Admiral him a few days off, and Sengoku agreed to move his patrol area towards the East Blue. These seemingly unrelated events were now strung together in his mind into a clear trajectory.
From Marineford to Water 7, and from Water 7 back to White Wax Island, including the round trip, you can get a few more days of rest.
When he said goodbye to his Pops before setting sail, his Pops patted him on the shoulder and said, "Don't bring shame to the Uchiha."
I can still feel the weight of that calloused hand on my shoulder.
If Pops were still alive and saw how tall Gray had grown, he'd probably do the same thing.
He turned and walked to the area below the bridge.
"To the Water 7."
The adjutant, standing at the bridge entrance, paused for a moment after hearing the order. "Water 7?"
"Yes, I'm on leave. Once we arrive in Water 7, you will all take leave as well, but don't forget to take turns on duty on the warships."
The adjutant stood at attention and responded. He didn't ask why he could read the holiday from the Chamber of Commerce's letter, but he showed a rare different expression when conveying the order. The holiday meant that his men could rest in Water 7 for a few days, and he had to plan the sailors' duty roster in advance.
Damian noticed a slight sense of relief on his adjutant's face.
He turned around, returned to the bow of the ship, and refocused his gaze on the sea ahead.