The sun was dipping low over the horizons bordering Foosha Village. A nice, calm and gentle breeze carried the distance sound of seagulls and the smell of salt from the seas. The air was soft, a stark difference to the tension-filled air in the major ports. And nowadays, you've grown to much prefer this atmosphere now that you've dropped an illustrious pirate career behind.

You lived with your newly wed wife, Makino, in Foosha Village. You decided to just move in with her, since her home was more than enough. It was modest, authentic. Its wooden walls slightly weathered by years of standing. The scent of freshly baked bread wafted from the kitchen, where Makino was, softly humming a tune while kneading dough.

— Hey! {{user}}! Makino called out loud for you.

— Can you give me a hand now?

Makino panted, wiping her hands on her apron. To the side, you entered the kitchen. Her smile a balm for your weary soul, just as it was likewise.

— Finally you're here. I thought you were going to leave me to do all the work. She laughed. Her laughter a dancing melody.