Kaizoku Tensei: Transmigrated Into A Pirate Eroge-Chapter 38: [] Set Sail!

They said their goodbyes at the restaurant door, Kaito embracing Pierre like a son. The fisherman’s weathered hands gripped Pierre’s shoulders, his eyes glistening with a wetness he refused to let fall.

"You gave us back our lives," he said, his voice rough. "My family. Our future. If you ever need anything—"

"I know," Pierre said, cutting him off gently. "And the same goes for you."

Mika tugged at Pierre’s sleeve, her small face serious. "You promise you’ll come back? You have to promise."

Pierre knelt down to her level. "I promise. And I’ll bring you stories about all the places we’ve seen."

"And treasure?"

"The best kind." He tapped the side of his own head. "The kind that fills up here."

Mika wrinkled her nose. "That’s not real treasure."

"It’s the only kind that matters in the end."

Kaito’s wife stepped forward, pressing a cloth-wrapped package into Pierre’s hands. "Fresh bread for your journey," she said. "And dried fish that will keep if stored properly."

Even Alyssa received a hesitant but genuine invitation to return. Kaito extended his hand to her, his expression solemn.

"When you’re ready," he said, "there will always be a place for you at our table."

Alyssa froze for a half-second, her eyes widening. She blinked, composing herself as if reassembling a mask. "Thank you," she said.

The harbor master’s office was a short walk from the restaurant, a squat building with salt-crusted windows and faded blue paint. True to Reynolds’ word, a sealed envelope waited for them, handed over by a clerk who barely looked up from his logbook.

Raven tore it open immediately, her eyes scanning the detailed charts within. She spread them across a nearby barrel, fingers tracing the intricate coastlines and depth markings.

"These are good," she said, her voice carrying professional respect. "Really good... Hardy might have been a bastard, but he knew his navigation." She folded them carefully.

The sun bled out behind the cone-shaped towers, spearing the docks with final, defiant rays of crimson and gold. The celebration had spread throughout town, with music drifting from taverns and makeshift dance floors appearing in courtyards. People nodded or waved as they passed, some offering quiet thanks, others raising drinks in silent toast.

"This way," Alyssa said, leading them past the main harbor where fishing vessels and merchant ships crowded the wooden piers. They followed a narrow path that wound around rocky outcroppings until they reached a secluded cove hidden from the main town.

There, nestled in the protected waters, was a sight that made Pierre stop in his tracks.

The Crimson Sparrow floated serenely on the gentle waves, its hull gleaming in the fading light. Thirty-six feet of sleek, polished wood with elegant lines that promised both speed and stability. The deck was immaculate, the brass fittings shone like gold, and the furled sails were indeed the color of fresh blood.

"You didn’t exaggerate," Pierre said, unable to keep the admiration from his voice.

Alyssa’s face softened with pride. "She’s the fastest vessel in the Dawn Sea. Custom-built by the finest shipwrights in Alabaster Port."

They approached the gangplank, and Pierre drew a sharp breath. This wasn’t just wood and brass. This was a physical key to an open horizon.

"She’s magnificent," Raven breathed, running her hand along the smooth railing. "The sail configuration is perfect for speed without sacrificing stability. And look at these navigation instruments!" She darted toward a small cabinet near the helm, opening it to reveal gleaming brass tools. "Sextant, chronometer, compass—all top quality."

Pierre turned to Alyssa. She stood at the foot of the gangplank, her posture rigid, her eyes uncertain.

He extended his hand. "The ship is impressive. But a ship is useless without a good First Mate to keep the Captain in line. The job is yours if you want it."

"First Mate?" She repeated. ’But I don’t know the first thing about—’"

He grinned. "Welcome to the crew, princess."

The tension went out of her shoulders as she shook his hand, officially becoming Crew Member #1.

"I won’t let you down," she said, the words carrying the weight of a vow.

"Good, because I’ll throw you overboard if you do."

They spent the next hour exploring the vessel, with Alyssa pointing out features and storage areas. The ship boasted a small but functional galley, two private cabins, and a common area that could double as additional sleeping space. Below deck, secured lockers held weapons—swords, pistols, and even a small cannon that could be mounted on the deck if needed.

"How much did all this cost?" Pierre asked, examining a finely crafted cutlass.

"More than most people make in a lifetime," Alyssa replied without apology. "My father believed in being prepared."

"For what? War?"

"For whatever he deemed necessary."

As evening settled over the harbor, Pierre noticed movement on the path leading to their secluded dock. At first, he tensed, half-expecting Navy forces coming to reclaim their property. Instead, he saw Mika running ahead of a procession of townspeople, her pigtails bouncing with each step.

"They’re leaving!" she shouted back to the crowd. "Hurry!"

The people of Hotaru Town arrived carrying gifts—not trinkets or tokens, but practical items essential for a long journey. Fishermen brought coils of spare rope and mending kits for sails. The baker delivered hard tack that would last for weeks. Farmers came with barrels of preserved fruits and vegetables. The local blacksmith huffed up the path with a chest of tools.

"For repairs at sea," he explained, setting it down on the dock with a thud. "Never know what might break when you’re far from shore."

An elderly woman approached with a bundle of dried herbs. "For seasickness and fever," she told Raven. "Steep them in hot water when needed."

Kaito and his wife arrived with additional food supplies and three waterproof cloaks.

As the supplies were loaded aboard, Mika organized a group of children to sing a traditional sailor’s blessing. Pierre didn’t understand all the words, but he didn’t need to.

The clear, high notes carried a feeling that transcended language—a plea for safe passage, a promise of remembrance. It was the sound of hope, given freely.

The sun had nearly disappeared below the horizon when Reynolds arrived with a dozen of his sailors. They marched in formation to the end of the dock, their boots striking the wooden planks in perfect unison.

Pierre tensed, his hand instinctively moving toward the cutlass at his belt. "Problem, Commander?"

Reynolds stepped forward, his expression unreadable in the gathering dusk. "I came to see you off properly."

With a crisp command, the sailors formed a line facing The Crimson Sparrow. Reynolds moved to the center, his back straight, his face composed.

"Ship ready to depart, Captain?" he called formally.

Pierre exchanged puzzled glances with Raven, who shrugged and nodded.

"All... ready," Pierre replied.

Reynolds turned to his men. "Attention!"

The sailors snapped to rigid posture, their eyes fixed forward.

"Present... arms!"

In perfect synchronization, they raised their right hands in formal salute, holding the position. Reynolds joined them, his salute directed squarely at Pierre.

For a second, Pierre’s brain struggled to process the sight. Rigid posture.

A formal salute.

From Navy men.

Directed at him.

The absurdity of it hit him, and he broke into a wide, unrestrained grin, raising a lazy, two-fingered wave in return.

"Take care of this place," he called to Reynolds. "We might want to visit again someday."

"It will be here," Reynolds promised. "And in better condition than you found it."

As the last lines were cast off and The Crimson Sparrow began to drift away from the dock, the townspeople erupted in cheers and waving hands. Mika jumped up and down, shouting something that was lost in the general noise.

Alyssa stood at the prow, her face turned toward the open sea, a genuine smile finally reaching her eyes. The setting sun caught in her hair, and for a moment, the blonde strands seemed to burn with their own light.

Raven found the helm, her hands settling on the wheel as if they were born for it. "Sails," she commanded.

Alyssa, surprisingly obeyed. The blood-red sails unfurled, catching the wind with a single, sharp snap. The ship leaned into the wind, answering its master’s call, and surged forward.

He moved to the stern, watching Hotaru Town recede. The cone-shaped towers, once so oppressive, now looked almost charming, their lights blurring into a soft constellation. He’d torn up the map. That road was rubble behind him.

Before him stretched an endless horizon, a clean slate washed in salt and moonlight.

Pierre took a deep breath of the salt air and smiled.

—

End of Arc 1: "Critic’s Overture"