Soooo….that whole 'mid-November' plan did not work out at all. Sorry about that, but life had other plans for me, between final exams, family drama, and living with the potential terror of watching my house burn down. So yeah, I've been busy. I won't make any more promises about when I'll have chapters out, but I will reaffirm that I will see this story through to the end. As such, I hope that you all will do the same. This chapter will be particularly long to make up for lost time, so let's dive in!

---

Lesson 17: Scrubbing Too Hard Down There Feels Less Like Hygiene and More Like Self-Punishment

---

"Owowowow! OW!" Momonosuke cried out, tears welling up.

"Please bear with it a little longer. You're doing an excellent job so far." Shoyo smiled apologetically as he continued to wrap his student's arm in bandages. "Can you tell me where else it hurts?"

"Where doesn't it hurt?" Momonosuke grumbled, attempting to suppress a sniffle.

Shoyo chuckled lightly. "Apologies. It seems Gintoki still doesn't quite know how to hold his strength back, even during a sparring match."

Momonosuke quickly wiped the tears from his eyes as he turned towards his teacher, his voice filled with pride.

"There's nothing to apologize for! A samurai never shies away from a challenge, no matter how painf-ouch!" He winced as Shoyo secured the final bandage around his shoulder.

"Even so, this is the fourth time this week you've challenged him," Shoyo pointed out with a patient smile. "Perhaps it would do you some good to continue training before you do so again."

"I can't do that! It would go against my pride as the future shogun of Wano!" Momonosuke declared, puffing out his chest despite the pain. "This is the 40th match I've challenged him to, and I haven't beaten him once! If I want to get stronger, I need to face an even stronger opponent until I win!"

Shoyo's eyes softened. "Your enthusiasm is truly commendable, Momonosuke. But I must admit, it may be a while yet — Gintoki is one of the most adept students in this school."

"Can you really say that about a guy who's always sleeping through class?" Momonosuke deadpanned.

Shoyo sweatdropped slightly as he chuckled in agreement. "Well, aside from his academics, his kendo skills are unparalleled among the students."

Momonosuke looked down at his hands, curling his fingers into a fist. "And that's why I must keep challenging him. I can't afford to stay this weak."

Even as they spoke, his father was in the Flower Capital, making a fool of himself for the amusement of Orochi. He did not resent his father for this — Momonosuke knew that his father was a proud man and a true samurai. He would not demean himself in such a manner unless there was something more going on behind the scenes. However, he had yet to divulge that secret to his family or his retainers, intent on handling the matter himself. So, Momonosuke would get stronger and let his father know that he could rely on him to help — that he didn't have to bear the burden alone.

Shoyo, watching his student, seemed to understand the weight in the boy's heart. As he reached for another bandage, he decided to pose a question. "Tell me, Momonosuke-kun, do you think it is wrong to be weak?"

"Sensei?" Momo looked at his teacher in confusion, surprised by his question. Shoyo pressed on.

"Humans are born weak. They live their lives carrying an identity they can't always reconcile with. It's unfortunate, but there's no way to escape that struggle. This is true for everyone. But that doesn't mean we have to let our weaknesses define us. We have the power to resist, to face those weaknesses, and change ourselves. People have far more freedom than they realize."

Momonosuke stared up at Shoyo, his eyes wide with awe. The teacher smiled and placed a comforting hand on his student's head.

"You little samurai taught me that. Each of you will continue to grow stronger. Of that, I have no doubt. But remember, this path is not one you have to walk alone. You have your family and your friends here to support you."

Momo slightly raised an eyebrow. "Even Gintoki?"

Shoyo laughed warmly. "Yes, even Gintoki. Though I imagine he'd deny it if asked, I believe he has just as high expectations for you as you do for yourself. That's probably why he refuses to hold back against you. He sees the potential you have, just as I do."

His gaze drifted outside toward the garden, watching the sky as the clouds passed by. "He, too, is still trying to figure out his own path, trying to figure out what kind of strength he seeks."

Shoyo's voice grew soft. "You are all at an age where you will certainly stumble and make mistakes, where you feel your efforts are for naught, and where you will feel frustrated with that. But that is okay. As long as you carry that same passion within you, you will one day find yourself as the man you seek to become."

Momo's eyes widened further as he listened to his teacher. He felt a warmth in his chest that he couldn't quite express. Finally, a small smile appeared in his expression. The two sat in comfortable silence, the sound of birdsong drifting in from outside until hurried footsteps broke the tranquility.

"Sensei, Momo, come quick! He's back again!" Hiyori suddenly burst into the room.

Shoyo simply continued smiling as he quickly figured out who she was referring to. "Oh, you mean our little dojo challenger? It's about that time, I suppose."

"You mean that Takasugi kid!? He's here to challenge Gintoki again!" Momo suddenly shot to his feet, his injuries momentarily forgotten. "Well, he has to go through me first! I still owe him for the last time!"

"I must advise against that. You really should rest for the day and allow yourself time to heal. You're more than welcome to watch, of course. I'm sure today will be another interesting match." Shoyo commented as he, too, began to rise to his feet.

Hiyori's cheeks turned pink as she clasped her hands together dreamily. "Regardless of who wins today, I hope I'll get the chance to tend to Takasugi-kun's injuries this time. Maybe I'll even get the chance to ask him what kind of girls he likes or what his favorite foods are…"

"Oi, Hiyori! What are you talking about!? As your older brother, I forbid you from associating with that jerk!" Momonosuke barked, scandalized. He was all too aware of his sister's crush on the dojo challenger — just like every other girl in their class, much to the annoyance of the boys.

"Save that for when you actually beat him! He's kicked your butt almost as many times as Gin-kun has." Hiyori stuck out her tongue at her brother in response before running off.

"It'll be different this time! Just watch!" Momonosuke yelled, rushing after his sister. Shoyo laughed warmly, following them at a more leisurely pace toward the training hall.

---

Okobore-chō was just starting to come alive under the warm glow of the morning sun. The scent of wood smoke drifted lazily through the air, and the townspeople moved cautiously, frequently glancing at the imposing figure sitting cross-legged nearby.

Tsuru approached, carrying a steaming bowl of freshly made soup. "This is oshiruko. Go ahead, Olin-san. Try it!" she said with a polite smile.

Big Mom's eyes lit up as she caught the scent, her stomach growling in anticipation. "Mmm... Ah, it smells so good! Thank you for the meal!" She picked up the bowl tenderly, savoring its warmth for a brief moment before downing the contents in one go. She set the empty bowl down with a satisfied grin. "It's delicious! That oshiruko stuff sure is sweet and tasty!"

Tama, standing beside Tsuru, offered a bow of gratitude. "We are glad that you are satisfied, Olin-sama."

However, as if on cue, Big Mom's stomach growled again, far from satisfied.

Tsuru looked down, her expression apologetic. "I'm sorry, Olin-san, but that's all we have..."

Big Mom let out a chuckle, shaking her head. "Mama-mama… It's not enough, but I can't complain. Thank you, Otsuru-san, Otama-san. Feeding me when you've got so little… you're good people."

Tsuru giggled softly. "We're just glad you liked it."

From behind a nearby house, Chopper, Tamako, Kagura, and the others watched the exchange unfold. Chopper's face remained tight with anxiety, his eyes never leaving Big Mom.

"So, is she really that strong?" Tamako asked, her voice a mix of curiosity and excitement.

"Yeah," Chopper nodded seriously, his gaze fixed on the Yonko, "stronger than you'll ever know."

Tamako shared a knowing glance with Momonosuke and Kagura, a silent agreement passing between them.

"Then I want her to help us rescue Big Bro Luffy and Big Bro Gin from Udon!" She declared. "It's the perfect chance!"

Chopper spun toward her, eyes wide. "Eh?!"

Momonosuke nodded thoughtfully. "That's actually a good idea."

Kagura twirled her umbrella, grinning. "She can probably break them out in no time-aru."

"It's not that simple!" Chopper protested, shaking his head furiously.

Shinpachi, equally uneasy, spoke up. "I'm with Chopper-san on this. From what he's told us, Big Mom came to Wano specifically to kill Luffy-san! There's no telling what she'll do if we take her straight to him! What if her memories come back when she sees him?!"

"Yeah, exactly!" Chopper agreed, his voice laced with panic. "And how are we even supposed to get her to listen to us in the first place?!"

Unfortunately, the three youngest of their group refused to budge.

Tamako raised her tiny fist with conviction. "Let's go, Chopperemon!"

Momonosuke raised his wooden training sword. "Let's go!"

Kagura mirrored them, raising her umbrella. "Go!"

Chopper and Shinpachi both winced, exchanging wary looks. It's not like they didn't want to go and rescue their respective leaders, however...

"Are we really sure about this?!" Chopper whimpered. "If her memory comes back, we're totally screwed!"

"It's worse if we just sit here and do nothing!" Tamako shot back. "This is our chance! I wanna go!"

Kagura nodded in agreement. "We gotta get them out before the raid anyway, and we haven't heard back from Raizo at all-aru."

Momonosuke took a step forward, his expression resolute. "Kagura-san is right. We only have nine days left before the battle. We can't afford to wait."

Kiku, who had been silent, frowned in concern. "While this one agrees that we must help Luffy-dono, I do not think it is wise to bring Momonosuke-sama into such a dangerous situation."

Momonosuke looked up at Kiku, his eyes serious. "Kiku-san, I understand what you're saying, but for me, this isn't just about saving Luffy." He paused, gathering his thoughts before continuing. "I need to see Gintoki again. I can't leave things as they are between us. I need to speak to him face-to-face. And not just to chew him out for what he said back at the castle." He clenched his fists, voice steady. "It's hard to put into words, but if I don't do this, I feel like I'll be stuck the way I am. I can't afford that, not with the raid coming. If I am to become worthy of leading this country, I need to confront my weaknesses head-on!" He bowed slightly, his voice softening. "I hope you will abide by this selfish request of mine."

A silence fell over the group as they absorbed Momonosuke's words. There was an understanding in the air, a recognition of what this meant for the young heir.

Finally, Kiku nodded, her eyes softening. "This one understands, Momonosuke-sama. As your humble vassal, I shall accompany you."

Momonosuke smiled gratefully. "Of course. Thank you, Kiku-san."

Kagura turned to Chopper, grinning widely. "Well, you heard him, Chopper! Good luck-aru!"

"Eh?! Why me?!" Chopper exclaimed, his voice cracking. "Please, literally anyone other than me!"

Realizing he wasn't going to win, Chopper let out a resigned sigh and slowly approached Big Mom, who was still happily chatting with Tama and Tsuru.

"So, um..." Chopper began nervously.

Big Mom looked down at him, smiling sweetly. "What is it, cute little Choppermon?" She suddenly held out her hand. "Paw."

Chopper gulped, inching his hoof over toward her awaiting fingers, trying his hardest to suppress his urge to run. But as soon as Big Mom's stomach growled, the ground beneath them seemed to tremble.

"I'm hungry," Big Mom muttered, looking down at Chopper with a gleam in her eyes, drool collecting at the corner of her mouth. "I wanna eat more..."

Chopper froze, tears streaming down his face. "Scary! It's way too scary, after all!"

Kagura stepped forward, calling out with enthusiasm. "We need your help, Olin-chan!"

"Let's go to Udon together!" Tamako chimed in.

"Eh?!" Chopper exclaimed again.

"Udon? Is that where we're going?" Big Mom asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Indeed!" Momonosuke nodded confidently.

Shinpachi, seeing Chopper's distress, quickly added, "I believe I heard a rumor that the All-Star in charge there loves oshiruko."

Big Mom's eyes lit up, her curiosity piqued. "Oh?!"

Chopper, his panic rising, stammered, "Y-yeah! There'll be tons of it there!"

As soon as the words left his mouth, he sank to the ground in despair. "I lied without even realizing it... If we get there and there's no soup... I'm dead!" he thought to himself, tears clouding his vision.

Shinpachi gave Chopper a sympathetic look. "Sorry, Chopper-san. I thought it would help."

"Udon? And if I go there, we'll find a whole bunch of oshiruko?" Big Mom beamed, giving a wink and a thumbs up. "Then let's go! Right now!"

Shinpachi forced a smile. "Well, I'm glad we're all in agreement... but how are we supposed to get to Udon? We can't exactly walk there, and we don't have any transport that can accommodate Olin-san."

As the group tried to figure out a solution, a sudden crash and the sound of panicked screams erupted from the village. Moments later, a deep, rumbling roar echoed across the town.

"Sharkodile attack! Everyone, run!" a villager screamed, rushing past in terror as the massive, green-scaled monster smashed through a house.

Tsuru gasped in alarm. "Oh no!"

Tama's robotic eyes focused on the hybrid as she watched the beast rummage through the rubble. "It would appear that it was drawn in by the scent of leftover food that the bandits had not stolen. I would advise that we evacuate the villagers as soon as possible."

"This one will handle it!" Kiku declared, drawing her sword. "Momonosuke-sama, get behind me!"

Kagura and Shinpachi prepared to join Kiku, but they all froze as an immense pressure seemed to settle over the area.

Big Mom stood up slowly, her expression dark. "Hey...what do you think you're doing?" she growled.

With her eyes locked on the Sharkodile, she stomped over, her footsteps heavy and deliberate. The beast roared at her, jaws snapping open wide as it charged.

"Olin-san! Get out of the way!" Tsuru called out in fear.

Big Mom raised her massive fist, her expression irritated. "Don't you dare destroy my dear friends' village!"

With a mighty swing, she brought her fist down on the Sharkodile's head, smashing it into the ground and leaving cracks spiderwebbing across the earth beneath. The beast let out a pitiful whimper before going limp and unconscious. Big Mom turned back to the group, her cheerful demeanor returning as she pointed at the now-subdued creature, a noticeable welt forming on its skull.

"Look, Shin-san! I got us a ride!"

Shinpachi stared, a single eye twitching in disbelief. "...Are we really sure about this idea after all...?"

Chopper, however, was in no state to answer — he had already fainted.

---

"WAAAHHHH! Komuwasagi-chwann!" Sanji sobbed, tears and snot flowing freely as his dramatic wails echoed freely throughout Ebisu-chō.

"Would you keep it down already?!" Usopp snapped, glancing nervously at the boarded-up windows. "We're supposed to be in hiding!"

Franky leaned against a creaky wall, arms crossed. "Seriously, bro. You saw her, what? One time?"

Sanji's sorrow instantly transformed into rage as he spun on his crewmates. "The death of a beautiful woman is a loss for the entire world, idiots! Have some respect!"

Law, sitting calmly, adjusted his hat as he flipped through a newspaper. "It says here the funeral is tomorrow."

Sanji glared at him. "Same to you! Where's your tact?! Where's your delicacy, Traffy?!"

Franky frowned, ignoring the outburst. "You think Orobi's group was there when it happened? I hope they're okay."

"I'm worried, too." Usopp rubbed the back of his neck, glancing at his smail. "Should I try contacting them? What do you think, Sanji?"

However, Sanji's mind and eyes were now clearly elsewhere. The latter drifted down toward the cylindrical canister holding his Raid Suit — the one that had bestowed upon him his long-desired ability of invisibility. His mind wandered, and a determined look overtook his face. His previous sorrow vanished as a new thought overtook him: "Women's bath..."

"Sanji!" Usopp's voice snapped him out of his reverie.

"Huh? Oh, uh... yeah, sure! Go ahead!" Sanji quickly recovered, turning to Law. "Traffy, any news about Luffytaro in Udon?"

Franky grinned, his enthusiasm cutting through the grim atmosphere. "I bet he's shaken it off by now! Probably gearing up to rage!"

Usopp laughed. "You bet he is! Can't wait to see him again!"

Law's expression darkened as he scanned the page. "Nothing about Straw Hat… but—" His eyes widened slightly, his voice dropping. "Eustass Kid."

"Kid?!" the others echoed in unison.

Gengai, seated in a dusty corner, tinkering with scraps of metal, glanced up. "A friend of yours?"

"Hardly," Franky answered with a grimace. "We only met him the one time back on Sabaody two years ago. And from the little we got of that interaction, bro was not interested in being friends."

"Women's bath…" Sanji, still half-lost in his thoughts, blinked. "...Wait, what?! Kid's in Wano?"

Law furrowed his brow. "He's part of the alliance with Hawkins, so it's no surprise he's here. But according to this, he just broke out of Udon Prison."

Franky let out a low whistle. "Guess they're not in much of an alliance now if only Eustass got sent to Udon."

Usopp leaned forward, curiosity etched on his face. "Think he ran into Luffy?"

"Possibly. By the way…" Sanji said before his mind returned to previous thoughts. "Do you know where I can find a bathhouse?"

Franky and Usopp snapped simultaneously.

"Focus!" Franky shouted, grabbing Sanji in a headlock.

"This is serious, man!" Usopp joined in, wrestling him to the floor and locking his arm in place.

Law shook his head, sighing as the three idiots continued to bicker and wrestle on the floor while Gengai chuckled in the background. "I'm more worried about Bepo and the others. They went scouting and haven't checked in yet. Let's hope we don't run into more trouble..."

Before Law could finish, the door creaked open. Tonoyasu and Hasegawa entered, the former's boisterous laugh filling the room.

"Now, now! Have faith in your friends!" Tonoyasu said cheerfully, his wide smile seemingly impervious to the gloom. "They're probably just taking in the sights on this fine day! Aha ha ha ha!"

Franky straightened, releasing his crewmate and. "Tonoyasu-san, right? Thanks for letting us hide out here. Sorry if we've been a burden."

"Nonsense!" Tonoyasu waved him off. "Any friend of Zorojuro's is welcome! Use any empty house you like — there's no shortage these days. Aha ha ha! Everyone's either starved or fled, so take your pick!"

Franky frowned. "Why is that funny...?"

Tonoyasu wiped a tear of laughter from his eye. "What else can you do but laugh? Aha ha ha! Speaking of Zorojuro, you just missed him! He tore out of here like a man possessed, muttering something about his sword being stolen! No idea who he was chasin' or how far!"

Usopp groaned. "So, he's definitely not coming back here then, huh? Not unless he runs into someone else who can help him."

Hasegawa shrugged. "Doubt it. The moment his sword got swiped, he bolted like a bat out of hell. No stopping him."

Franky grinned. "Eh, don't sweat it. Zorojuro'll figure something out. He always does."

Hasegawa's weathered face crinkled as he reached for and lit up a fresh cigarette. "Well, if he's chasing the guy I think he's chasing, he's got his work cut out for him."

Usopp perked up at this. "What do you mean? You know who took his sword?"

Before Hasegawa could respond, Gengai, still tinkering in the corner, spoke up without looking away from his work. "He's talking about Gyukimaru."

"Gyukimaru?" Franky echoed, raising an eyebrow.

Hasegawa nodded. "That's right. Gyukimaru of Oihagi Bridge. Bit of a local legend around these parts."

Usopp scooted closer, eager for details. "Legend? What kind of legend?"

"Well," Hasegawa began, scratching his stubbly chin, "Gyukimaru's a monk-warrior who's been guarding the graves of fallen samurai up in the snowy region of Ringo for years. Folks say he prowls Oihagi Bridge, stealing weapons from anyone who crosses it."

Gengai chimed in, glancing up from his work. "And he doesn't just take them for himself. Rumor goes the weapons he collects are offerings for the graves he protects. His way of honoring the samurai who fought for Wano before things went to hell under Orochi's rule."

Usopp blinked. "Wait, so he's like... a samurai gravekeeper and a thief? That's kinda weird."

"Not weird," Hasegawa corrected with a wave of his hand. "Just his way of keeping the memory of those warriors alive. It's said he'll fight anyone who tries to take their weapons back, though. And trust me, he's no slouch in a fight."

Franky's brow furrowed. "So, you're saying Zorojuro's chasing after a warrior monk who steals swords and knows how to use them? Sounds like his kind of guy."

"Maybe," Gengai said, returning to his tinkering. "But Gyukimaru's not just any thief. They say he's got the spirit of the old Wano samurai in him, and he doesn't back down easily. Your friend's gonna have a tough time convincing him to give that sword back."

Usopp let out a nervous laugh. "Yeah, but Zorojuro's not exactly the type to take no for an answer, either."

Hasegawa chuckled before reaching into his pocket and biting into a rotten fruit. "Fair enough. I haven't known the guy for long, but if anyone's stubborn enough to take on Gyukimaru, it's probably him."

Franky crossed his arms, his mechanical fingers tapping against his bicep. "Well, either way, Zorojuro'll manage."

Usopp nodded, though his expression was still uncertain. "Yeah, I just hope he doesn't take too long. We can't afford to be down a fighter, not with the raid coming up."

Law, still seated at the table, glanced up from the newspaper. "We've got more immediate problems to deal with, like getting out of here without attracting attention. If Pirate Hunter's off chasing legends, we need to make sure the rest of us are ready for whatever's coming."

Law glanced around the room, his sharp eyes narrowing. "Speaking of people missing... where's Black Leg?"

Franky's smile froze. The two Straw Hats shot up, heads swiveling around before bursting out the door, eyes scanning the streets for their blonde crewmate who had seemingly vanished during the conversation.

Franky exchanged a knowing look with Usopp. "He wouldn't..."

"Yup," Usopp said flatly, pinching the bridge of his nose. "He totally would."

---

The rickety cart bearing the Wano police insignia clattered along the uneven dirt path leading out of the Flower Capital, the squeak of its wooden wheels merging with the faint whistle of wind through the barren fields. A haze of smoke from distant factories hung low in the air, painting the horizon in muted shades of gray. The two Komauma pulling the cart galloped forward at a steady but hurried pace.

In the back of the cart, Matsudaira sat lounging against a pile of supplies, a cigarette balanced between his lips. Every so often, he exhaled a lazy plume of smoke, his dark sunglasses reflecting the yellow light of the midday sun. Up front, Kondo sat rigidly, hands resting on the reigns. His sword lay across his lap, his fingers absently brushing the hilt. The cart jolted suddenly over a rock, and Kondo instinctively reached out to steady his blade.

"About these prisoners we're going to see…You sure we're not wasting our time, Pops?" Kondo asked, breaking the silence. His voice carried a tinge of skepticism, though his eyes betrayed a deeper concern. "You really think these guys are worth all this trouble?"

Matsudaira's eyes remained fixed on the horizon behind him, his brow furrowed with thought. Suddenly, he exhaled a stream of smoke that curled into the air like a lazy dragon. "We've had reports of increased rebel activity lately," he said gruffly, pulling a crumpled flyer from his jacket pocket. He held it up, the now-familiar crescent moon emblem unmistakable. "Word's trickled down about a potential uprising during the Fire Festival next week. The reverse crescent moon symbol's been popping up all over the place. If these prisoners are connected to that, we need to know. You read the report I provided you last night, right?"

Kondou nodded, his expression sobering. "Two new arrivals. One of them caused a massive uproar in Kuri by fighting Kaido himself before getting apprehended — had to read that part three times over just to make sure I wasn't seeing things. The other apparently flattened an entire squad of Kaido's soldiers singlehandedly before he was finally subdued."

Matsudaira let out a low whistle. "Kaido's forces don't go down easy. If these two are connected to this rumored rebellion, this could be bigger than we thought."

Kondo frowned, his eyes on the road ahead. "Do you really believe the Kozuki could return? After all this time?" Kondou asked, his tone laced with both curiosity and concern. When Matsudaira had shared the rumors with him and Toshi before leaving, Kondo had struggled to process it. "It's been twenty years. Most people have given up on that dream. Could be Katsura or some other Joui faction stirring up trouble using the Kozuki name."

Matsudaira adjusted his sunglasses, his lips pressing into a thin line. "It probably is. Doesn't matter if it's true, does it? What matters is people believe it. Dreams like that, they can light fires in places we can't control. They make people reckless. But if the Kozuki really are back… well, let's just say things are about to get a lot messier."

The fiery-maned horses snorted, their pace slowing as the path began to slope upward. Kondo leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, his expression darkening.

"Dreams," he muttered. "That's all the Kozuki name is to most people now. A memory. A fantasy. Twenty years, and all they've got left is a symbol on some rebel's ankle."

"Dangerous fantasy," Matsudaira countered. "The kind that gets people killed. If the Kozuki name's being used as a rallying cry, do you think Orochi's just gonna sit back and watch? If Kaido catches wind of it, he'll torch the whole damn country just to make a point. That's why we need to beat them to the punch and settle this before they decide to take matters into their own hands. We don't need another incident like last night with the Tobi Roppo tearing through the capital doing whatever they damn well please."

Kondo's jaw tightened, the weight of Matsudaira's words sinking in. "You're worried about the Shinsengumi, aren't you?"

Matsudaira's eyes flicked to his companion, his expression unreadable behind his shades. "I'm worried about a lot of things — the country, Kuriko-chan's latest boyfriend, what to get my wife for our anniversary…" He let out a wry chuckle, the humor doing little to lighten the mood. "But yeah, the Shinsengumi's on that list. If a rebellion kicks off, we're the ones stuck in the middle. It's our job to maintain order in Wano…even if it means making compromises."

Silence fell between them for a moment, the weight of Matsudaira's words sinking in. Kondo's grip on the reins tightened, his knuckles whitening. He opened his mouth to respond but was interrupted by the sudden caw of a crow circling overhead. Both men fell silent, watching the bird swoop low before disappearing into the distance.

"Compromises," Kondo echoed, his jaw tightening. "Is that what we're calling it? Turning a blind eye to Kaido's cruelty, Orochi's corruption? Letting this place rot from the inside out? We're supposed to protect Wano, but what does that even mean anymore?"

Matsudaira's gaze shifted to his companion. "You think I don't hate it, too?" he asked quietly, his tone hardening. "You think I like watching this place rot from the inside out? I've been in this game a long time, Kondo. Long enough to know you don't win by going in guns blazing, despite what my nickname may suggest. Sometimes, you have to play the hand you're dealt, even if it's a bad one."

Kondo's shoulders sagged slightly, his resolve momentarily shaken. "It's not like I don't get what you're saying, Pops. I've told the men that a hundred times. Do your duty, protect what matters. But sometimes…" He hesitated, searching for the right words. "Sometimes, I feel like I'm not living up to it. Like I'm failing them. It just feels like we're standing still...like no matter what we do, it's not enough."

"You're wrong," Matsudaira said firmly. "We keep the balance, Kondo. We hold the line. Not for Orochi, not for Kaido, but for the people who can't protect themselves. For the ones who'd be crushed if we weren't here. It's not about grand victories or sweeping change. It's about keeping what matters most safe, even if it means getting your hands dirty."

Kondo glanced over, his expression conflicted. "What matters most, huh?"

Matsudaira smiled faintly, leaning back as he tapped the ash from his cigarette. "Your Shinsengumi. That's what matters to you, isn't it? Those idiots who'd follow you to hell and back. And maybe…" He gave Kondo a knowing look. "A certain fiery-tempered girl who doesn't take your crap?"

Kondo's face turned red, and he spluttered, "Otae-san?! What does she have to do with this?!"

Matsudaira laughed, the sound rough but genuine. "Relax, gorilla. I'm just saying we all have things we want to protect. For me, it's my wife and daughter. For you, it's the people who believe in you. That's why we do this. That's why we keep going, even when it feels like we're standing still."

Matsudaira leaned forward slightly, resting his elbows on his knees. The faint glow of his cigarette lit the lines of his face, making him look even older than he was. "You're not failing anyone, Kondo," he said firmly. "You think you'd have half the loyalty you do if your men thought otherwise? You keep them together. That's no small thing, not in a place like this."

The cart hit a bump, jolting them both. Kondo sighed, his expression softening. "Thanks, Pops. I guess… I just needed to hear that."

"Good," Matsudaira took another drag from his cigarette, his tone lightening. "You're too soft for this place, you know that? But that's what makes you good at what you do. Just don't let it get you killed."

"Understood, Pops." Kondo said with a soft grin.

"Glad to hear. Now quit sulking. We've got prisoners to interrogate, and if they give us trouble…" Matsudaira leaned back and patted the bazooka resting beside him, his smirk widening. "Well, I've got a few tricks up my sleeve."

Kondo couldn't help but chuckle, shaking his head. "You really are a maniac, Pops."

"Damn right," Matsudaira replied, his tone lightening as he leaned back with a contented sigh.

Kondo settled back into his seat, eyes focusing back on the road. However, his mind still drifted. "I hope the Flower Capital holds up until we return. Well, I did leave Toshi in charge, so it should be fine."

---

The Shinsengumi barracks were unusually noisy, their members wailing and sniffling like grieving relatives at a wake. Komurasaki's death had sent ripples through the ranks, her demise casting a shadow over even the normally boisterous officers.

"Komurasaki-chaaan!" wailed Yamazaki, his face buried in his hands. "She was the very flower of Wano! Taken from us too soon! She was too beautiful for this cruel world!"

"Her smile could light up the darkest night!" another officer sobbed, clutching a framed portrait of Komurasaki, raising it dramatically toward the ceiling. "Why, gods?! Why would you take her from us?! How will we go on without her?!"

"Why even bother living?!" cried another, his face streaked with tears as he curled up on the floor. "The world is nothing but ashes now!"

The chorus of wails reached a crescendo, echoing through the room like a tragic symphony.

Hijikata stood in the doorway, arms crossed, cigarette dangling from his lip, and his brow twitching dangerously as he surveyed the scene. His patience was wearing thin. His grip tightened on the hilt of his katana, and with a deep, steadying breath, he barked, "Oi! Will you idiots shut up already?! Snap out of it, you crybabies!"

The men froze mid-sob, their tear-streaked faces snapping toward him in shock. The room fell silent for a split second, and then the men erupted in outrage.

"What do you mean, 'snap out of it'?!" one officer shouted, tears streaming down his face.

"Vice-Chief!" Yamazaki protested, still clutching the portrait. "Komurasaki's beauty was the only thing that kept this world bearable!"

"You don't get it!" another officer added. "This isn't just grief! This is a national tragedy!"

Hijikata's eyebrow twitched again. His voice dropped, low and dangerous. "You're right. It is a tragedy…a tragedy that I have to listen to you lot blubbering like idiots when you're supposed to be working." Hijikata glared at them, his hand resting on the hilt of his katana. "Komurasaki is gone. Crying won't bring her back, and it sure as hell won't keep this country from falling apart. So dry your tears, get off your asses, and do your damn jobs!"

"Have some respect, Hijikata-san!" another chimed in, shaking a fist. "Even you should feel the weight of this loss!"

"Have you no soul?! Komurasaki-sama's death deserves to be mourned!"

"This is why you'll never have a woman like her!"

Hijikata's eyebrow twitched, and a vein pulsated visibly at his temple. "What did you just say?" he growled, slowly removing his katana an inch from its sheath. The blade's glint caught the light. The room fell silent as the men exchanged nervous glances, suddenly aware of the precarious line they were treading.

Hijikata stood, his imposing presence silencing any lingering murmurs as he continued to draw his blade slowly. "Alright, you spineless worms, have it your way. Anyone who wants to keep wailing like a banshee is welcome to do so... after committing seppuku. I'll even lend you my blade if you're too weak to sharpen your own."

The officers straightened instantly, their postures snapping to attention.

"No, no! We're good!" Yamazaki stammered, hastily wiping his face.

"On second thought," one muttered, forcing a smile, "Komurasaki would have wanted us to honor her by working hard!"

"That's right! We've got to keep Wano safe in her memory!" another chimed in rapidly, his previous tears vanishing.

Hijikata scoffed before sheathing his weapon, his glare daring anyone to challenge him further. "That's more like it. Now get out there and do your jobs before I decide to sharpen my sword anyway."

The men scattered, muttering a mixture of gratitude and fear as they rushed to their duties. Hijikata shook his head in exasperation as he stepped outside, adjusting his sword belt as he prepared for his daily solo patrol. As he stepped out into the crisp morning air, the muffled grumbling of his subordinates followed him.

"Man, he's so cold-hearted," one whispered.

"Doesn't he feel anything?" muttered another.

"Bet he cried in private and just won't admit it," a third added conspiratorially.

Hijikata's sharp ears caught every word, but he didn't bother responding. He had bigger things to think about.

His brow furrowed as he dug into his pocket, pulling out the slip of paper between his fingers. The crescent moon, the Kozuki symbol, stared back at him, flanked by the flaming birds and the coiling serpent that only a true resident of Wano could decipher. The secret message, distributed in whispers and shadows across the Flower Capital, had finally reached his hands, having come across it purely on accident the night before while helping to search the rubble of the town for injured civilians. His suspiscions were later confirmed by Matsudaira himself, who relayed what he had heard from the higher-ups before departing for Udon with Kondo.

For twenty years, the Kozuki clan had been nothing but a ghost story — a whispered hope for some, a cruel joke for others, a relic of a bygone era all the same. Now, their symbol was appearing in secret messages, tattooed on the ankles of hidden rebels, and spoken of by desperate citizens who dared to dream of change.

He couldn't help the small scoff that escaped his lips. Twenty years. That was how long it had been since the Kozuki family fell, since Kaido and Orochi reshaped Wano into the twisted shell it was now. The very idea that the Kozuki could return after two decades of silence felt like a fantasy. And yet...

Hijikata leaned back, letting the cigarette hang precariously between his fingers as he puffed into the sky. What if it wasn't just a story?

His lips twisted into a skeptical frown. A spark of anger flared in his chest, not directed at the Kozuki but at the naive hope their return inspired. In Wano, hope was a dangerous indulgence.

Duty had demanded he serve the shogun's office, no matter how twisted the man occupying the throne had become. Hijikata had long accepted this despite the bitter taste it left in his mouth. He resented Orochi. It wasn't just the corruption, the cruelty, or the way he wielded Kaido's might like a bludgeon to keep the people in line. It was the humiliation of serving a man who was no leader — merely a parasite feasting on Wano's legacy. He had seen firsthand the toll the regime had taken on Wano's people — the poverty, the oppression, the slow erosion of its samurai traditions. But he had also seen the shogunate's brutal efficiency in quelling dissent — quelling he had taken part in more than once.

As vice-chief of the Shinsengumi, Hijikata had seen firsthand the cost of rebellion. Protecting Wano's people wasn't as simple as swinging a sword around. Kaido loomed over Wano like a stormcloud, his presence rendering even the thought of resistance suicidal. The Shinsengumi's hands were tied. They served Orochi out of necessity, not loyalty. To defy him outright was to doom not only themselves but the very citizens they swore to protect.

Hijikata sighed deeply, his fingers tightening around the flyer. The crescent moon symbolized hope, but to him, it also symbolized chaos. He could feel the old anger rising within him, the frustration of being a soldier forced to fight for the wrong side, of having to swallow his pride and duty for the sake of pragmatism.

Hijikata's dark eyes narrowed as he studied the paper again, the crescent moon staring back at him like a silent accusation. The Kozuki name, though long absent, still carried weight in Hijikata's heart. It was a name that had once symbolized the honor and strength of Wano. Hijikata had grown up hearing tales from his late older brother of Kozuki Oden and his dream to open Wano's borders — tales of a man larger than life, whose charisma and strength had inspired even his enemies to admire him. Oden had embodied what it meant to be a samurai — nothing like Orochi, a coward who hid behind Kaido's shadow. A legacy of honor that Orochi could never hope to replicate.

But Oden was gone. So were the Akazaya Nine, the retainers who had stood by his side. The idea that his bloodline, or anyone tied to the Kozuki name, could challenge Kaido's reign after twenty years of silence felt absurd. And duty, as much as it frustrated him, was duty. Hijikata couldn't afford to let his personal feelings cloud his judgment, to act on wistful memories of a dead era. His job was to keep the peace in Wano and maintain order, even if that order was built on the rotten foundation of Orochi's regime, no matter how much he resented the system he served.

He glanced down at the slip of paper again. "The Kozuki are ghosts, nothing more. But ghosts have a way of haunting those who need them most, don't they?"

"If the Kozuki clan truly has returned, what's their plan? To charge in like fools and get crushed by Kaido's forces? And what happens to the people caught in the crossfire?" Hijikata let out a long sigh, running a hand through his disheveled hair. After all, it wasn't just the rebels who paid the price. It was their families, their neighbors, entire villages wiped out as examples.

He glanced down at the paper again, his jaw tightening. He had seen too much to believe in miracles. Yet, the timing of the crescent moon's resurgence couldn't be ignored. And last night, he had witnessed something that gnawed at him — the soba chef, dressed in black, standing toe-to-toe with Page One.

Hijikata's eyes narrowed as he recalled the soba chef's swift, brutal clash with Page One. The man in the black suit, certainly not one made in Wano, had moved with precision and power, taking on one of Kaido's Tobi Roppo without hesitation, even getting the edge over the spino-devil fruit user. It was the kind of strength Hijikata respected — and the kind that rarely went unnoticed. Hijikata didn't believe in coincidences, and the timing of this mysterious figure's arrival couldn't be ignored.

"If Sangoro's part of the Kozuki rebellion..." Hijikata's grip on the paper tightened, his gaze drifting to the bustling street. "Then maybe they've got more than just dreams backing them up. It's been twenty years, and people are still willing to fight for the Kozuki name. That has to mean something. But even so…"

CRASH! BOOM!

His musings were interrupted by the sound of crashing wood and raised voices from the direction of the bathhouse. Hijikata's hand instinctively gripped the hilt of his katana in an instant. Racing towards the sound, he caught sight of streams of screaming citizens rushing out of the bathhouse, some of which were chased by Beast Pirate enforcers.

Hijikata barged through the bathhouse's doors to find chaos unfolding. The front wall had been smashed inward, and steam poured out into the street like smoke from a fire. Inside, the tension was palpable, and the air was charged with the promise of violence.

There he was — Sangoro the soba chef. He stood at the center of the room, his lean frame clad once more in the sleek black suit Hijikata had seen the night before, only marred by the crimson river of blood all across his front. The faint glow of the suit's mechanisms hinted at some kind of advanced technology, but it was the man's stance that caught Hijikata's attention. He radiated confidence, his gaze locked on two imposing figures blocking the exit.

X-Drake and Basil Hawkins. The two Beast Pirates loomed like statues, their expressions unreadable but their intent clear. Drake's axe tensed, glinting in the light, while Hawkins' straw sword swayed around with deliberate menace.

"What the hell...?" Hijikata muttered to himself.

---

20 minutes prior:

The warm steam enveloped the bathhouse, creating a hazy veil that softened the world beyond the soothing waters. Nami sank deeper into the tub, letting the heat seep into her tired muscles.

"Ahh," she sighed, a contented smile spreading across her face, shaking off the chill of the snowy region of Ringo from which they had just come from. "I feel the exhaustion draining away..." She opened one eye lazily, a bead of sweat trickling down her temple. "Doesn't the water seem a bit too hot, though?"

Shinobu reclined next to her, a sly grin playing on her lips. "But that's what makes it good," she replied, stretching her arms above her head. The seasoned kunoichi seemed perfectly at ease, the heat barely fazing her. Besides her, Sacchan stretched out her legs, savoring the feeling of the warm water surrounding her supple figure.

Robin sat at the edge of the bath, only her feet submerged. She clutched a towel around herself, her posture relaxed yet poised. "I'm hesitant to get into the bath in public," she admitted, eyes scanning the room with quiet vigilance. After all, it had barely been a full twelve hours since they fled from the capital and retreated to Ringo to regroup and share the intel they discovered with Kanjuro. "If anything should happen..."

Shinobu waved a dismissive hand. "Why, you're just as cautious as a ninja!" she exclaimed. "We sorcery users feel weak when submerged in water, so I understand your concern. But there won't be any enemies here."

"I can only hope so," Robin replied. Despite her wariness, she was still hoping to check in on Otoko again after leaving her in Yoshiwara under Tsukuyo and Hinowa's care. Separately, she was also eager to learn more about the red ponegliff Brook had apparently discovered within the bowels of the castle last night before all hell broke loose.

Nami leaned back, closing her eyes. "We might not have any enemies..." She cracked one eye open, her gaze shifting around the room. Her expression shifted to annoyance as she noticed several pairs of eyes fixed intently on them. "...But I feel like I need to start charging money."

A chorus of hushed whispers and muffled giggles filled the air. The four women were, indeed, the center of attention. Around them, men — and a few women — stared unabashedly, some with leering grins, others with open admiration.

Nami pulled herself up slightly, crossing her arms over her chest. "I didn't expect mixed bathing!" she huffed, her cheeks flushing a light pink.

Shinobu arched an eyebrow. "Is that exotic to you?" she asked, genuinely curious. "Listen, I know all the fellas have their eyes glued to me right now, but they can't help it! They're strapping young men..."

A nearby bather cleared his throat loudly. "Lady, can you get out of the way?" he grumbled.

"Yeah, move it," another chimed in. "You're blocking the good view."

"Move it, move it, move it!" three others echoed impatiently.

Shinobu's eye twitched, her earlier good humor evaporating. "Why, you little—Ninpo! Ball-Crusher!"

Before anyone could react, Shinobu darted forward with blinding speed. The offending men didn't stand a chance.

"AIEEEEE!"

A series of high-pitched shrieks and groans echoed through the bathhouse as they doubled over, eyes bulging in pain.

Nami jumped to her feet, splashing water over the edge of the tub. "Shinobu, no!"

"No, keep it up!" Sacchan cheered. "Let them know that the only one allowed to leer lustfully at my naked body is my Gin-san!"

"You shut up, too!" Nami barked.

Robin giggled softly behind her hand. "My, my, Sakata-san certainly seems popular," she mused, her eyes sparkling with amusement. "The more I hear, the more I wish I had the chance to talk with him."

"Don't be so sure until you actually meet the guy," Nami grumbled, sinking back into the water. "Trust me."

The tension gradually dissipated as the chastised bath-goers retreated to safer distances, casting wary glances at Shinobu. The warm water and gentle murmur of conversation filled the space once more.

After a while, the four women decided it was time to leave. They stepped out of the bath, the cool air a refreshing contrast against their heated skin. As they toweled off, the sounds of a conversation drifted over from a nearby group of men.

"That Kyoshiro really scares me," an older bath-goer muttered, his voice low. "You can't tell what he's thinking."

"Yeah, well, he is a yakuza..." a younger man replied, shrugging.

"So? Don't you know anything? The yakuza are supposed to be on the side of the people!" the older man retorted, shaking his head. "I guess kids these days just don't know..."

Shinobu perked up, her attention drawn by the mention of Kyoshiro. "Where's the bath boy?" she called out, looking around. "I need my back washed."

An octopus with a small towel draped over its head slid by, tentacles carrying trays of bath supplies.

"Iyo!" it chirped.

Robin tilted her head, watching the creature with fascination. "Who are these octopi?"

"They're the bath boys — employees," Shinobu explained nonchalantly as she and the others sat down in stools. "They handle various tasks around here."

"I see," Robin replied, watching the octopi lather up soap in their tentacles as they scrubbed the guests down. The country of Wano was full of surprises.

The older bath-goer's voice carried over once more. "Back in my day, there was a great yakuza named Hyogoro the Flower. If only he were still around…"

Robin's eyes flickered with recognition. "Is that the man Kanjuro-san was talking about?" she wondered silently, recalling their conversation in Ringo.

Shinobu sighed wistfully. "If only Hyogoro-oyabun were still around, we could've rallied all the samurai at once," she lamented. "At this rate, our goal of 5,000 samurai in a week feels like a pipe dream. We'll be lucky if we muster 500…"

Nami looked intrigued. "Is he really that great of a man?"

Shinobu nodded firmly. "Twenty years ago, he was the face of Wano's underworld. He completely controlled the seedy underbelly of the Flower Capital and had clout with almost all the yakuza bosses of the other five regions. Despite that, he was kind to the people — a true knight of the old chivalrous ways, blessed with strength and charisma. When Oden-sama was young, he admired Hyogoro-oyabun's character."

"Why don't we look for him?" Nami suggested eagerly. "That would be a huge help!"

Shinobu's expression turned somber. "This was over twenty years ago," she reminded gently. "The tales say he resisted joining the Kurozumi Clan's employ, and Orochi killed him. That was the moment Fukurokuju, the current leader of the Oniwabanshu — who had been a fellow supporter of the Kozuki Clan — chose to switch allegiance to serving Orochi instead after betraying our original leader. At the time, I was one of his subordinates. I couldn't stand it. I left the band and had to flee for my life."

Nami's eyes softened. "So that's how you knew that ninja," she said thoughtfully, thinking back to their encounter with Hanzo in the castle rafters. "I'm impressed, Shinobu-san. That's really brave."

Shinobu waved off the compliment, though a faint blush colored her cheeks. "I only did what my heart and conscience demanded."

"Don't sell yourself short, master." Sacchan spoke up. "What you did that day was unprecedented among the Oniwanbanshu — to survive it is even more impressive. My only regret at that time was that I could not join you."

"Don't be," Shinobu shook her head with a faint, bittersweet smile. "You were only a child at the time, and I certainly would not have been in a position to protect you then. Staying until you were of age was the correct choice."

Sacchan's expression dimmed, her gaze lowering. "Too bad neither of us could do the same for Zenzou…" Her voice trailed off, heavy with guilt. Shinobu's expression mirrored her regret, a pang of regret radiating from her heart.

"Shinobu-san? Sacchan-san?" Robin's voice broke through the momentary silence, her concern clear. The two kunoichi looked up, meeting the concerned gazes of the pirate women across from them.

Shinobu straightened, her usual composure slipping back into place. "Apologies," she said, brushing off the lapse in her demeanor. "Please, pay no mind to that."

She turned to Nami, her voice quieter now, though resolute. "To answer your question, Onami, I do not believe we can rely on finding Hyogoro-oyabun. At this point… he exists only as a legend."

The soft murmurs of the bathhouse were broken only by the occasional splash of water as the women cleaned themselves, still deep in thought. Robin's curiosity lingered as she adjusted her towel and stepped closer to Shinobu. "You mentioned that Hyogoro 'almost' had connections with all the other bosses. Does that mean there were exceptions? Could any of them still help?"

Shinobu froze mid-step, her face darkening as she folded her arms. "Help might be a strong word. There was one man — Jirocho. He was a Yakuza boss who never bent the knee to Hyogoro. His gang kept to Kabuki-chō, a town infamous for its lawlessness. They never cared much for the rest of Kuri or the rebellion against Orochi."

Sacchan perked up as she dried her lavender hair. "What master says is true, but let me tell you — there was a reason Jirocho was able to stand alone against Hyogoro and the other bosses of the region by himself. He was strong. Like, scary strong. Even as an old man, he commanded respect. They used to call him one of the Four Devas of Kabuki-chō."

Shinobu nodded solemnly. "His clashes with Hyogoro were legendary. If Hyogoro was the blooming flower of the underworld, Jirocho was the thorny brush surrounding it — 'Jirocho the Briar' they called him."

Nami leaned forward, her brows knitting together in curiosity and frustration. "If he was that strong, shouldn't we at least try to find him? We could use someone like that."

Sacchan wavered, a flicker of unease crossing her face before she sighed. "That might've been possible… but there was a big fight about a year ago. Jirocho disappeared after that. I wasn't in town, so I missed the details. But word is Gin-san was somehow involved."

Nami groaned audibly, rubbing her temples as if trying to massage away a growing headache. "Him again?! Is there anywhere that guy hasn't caused trouble?"

Sacchan sighed dreamily. "Gin-san has a way of leaving his mark everywhere. It's part of his charm."

"Whatever happened to Jirocho left the Dobunezumi Group in shambles. His second-in-command took over, but they're just a shadow of what they used to be. Even Kyoshiro doesn't waste his time with them anymore." Shinobu cut in sharply.

Robin, ever thoughtful, mulled over the information. While all the talk about the Wano underworld was certainly fascinating, her mind drifted back to her encounter last night with a certain white-clad police officer.

"Sasaki Isaburo…After last night, there's no doubt in my mind he'll be a source of trouble for the rebellion as well." Robin though to herself, her eyebrows knitted in concern, an act that did not go unnoticed by her companions. She turned to the two kunoichi, ready to grill them for any information on the Mimawarigumi, however small.

"Hey, Shinobu-san—"

BANG!

Before Robin could speak, the calm shattered with a thunderous crash as the heavy doors swung open. Shouts erupted, and steam billowed, momentarily concealing the invaders before the glint of weapons emerged. A group of Beast Pirates and samurai burst in, their armor clanking ominously. The atmosphere thickened with dread as their commanding leader stepped forward, demanding silence.

"Everyone, stop what you're doing. This is a raid!" Basil Hawkins shouted, his voice icy and authoritative.

A collective gasp rippled through the bathhouse. Bath-goers scrambled to cover themselves, their faces pale with terror as chaos erupted around them.

"EEK!" one bath-goer shrieked.

Hawkins's cold eyes scanned the room, unperturbed by the pandemonium. His sharp gaze locked onto a group of bath-goers attempting to slip out unnoticed. Without a word, his men fanned out, weapons raised and ready to use them if anyone tried to escape.

Nami instinctively stepped back, her heart racing as her eyes darted for an escape route. Shinobu and Sacchan tensed, their hands inching toward hidden weapons that unfortunately were not there. Robin's fingers twitched reflexively, her mind racing. They had to escape — but with Hawkins blocking the exit and Beast Pirates patrolling the room, any sudden move could expose them.

Shinobu narrowed her eyes, clutching her towel tightly as she muttered under her breath. "Of all the times…"

The bathhouse buzzed with tension as steam curled lazily through the air, barely masking the cold menace accompanying Hawkins and his subordinates. The headliner stood tall, his gaze sharp and calculating as he surveyed the stunned bath-goers. "A bathhouse — a perfect place to hide..."

Shinobu's eyes widened in alarm, her voice a harsh whisper to the others. "That's Hawkins! He's one of Kaido's headliners! Why would the Beast Pirates raid a bathhouse?!"

Robin's calm demeanor belied the worry in her tone. "Should we fight?"

Sacchan frowned. "Like this? We wouldn't stand a chance."

"What should we do, Shinobu?!" Nami whispered urgently. "They probably already know about us. It's not fair they'd target us while we're so vulnerable!"

Shinobu's lips pressed into a thin line. "Take cover behind me. I'll handle this."

The women shuffled behind Shinobu, who stood as a barrier between them and the advancing pirates. Robin discreetly sprouted an eye on Shinobu's pigtail, giving herself a better vantage point of the unfolding scene.

Hawkins stepped forward, his expression as unreadable as ever. "Nobody move!" he barked, turning slightly to call outside. "Drake, what are you doing? Get in here."

From outside, a voice responded, laced with discomfort. "My job is to eliminate someone called Soba Mask. You handle the small stuff."

Hawkins barely reacted to the curt response, his attention returning to the bathhouse. His sharp eyes scanned the room, lingering on each figure. "Everyone form a line and show us your feet! We're arresting anyone bearing the mark of a waning crescent moon. That includes those in the bath. No exceptions!"

The bath-goers erupted into a mixture of panic and confusion. Women gasped, scrambling to cover themselves with towels, while the men muttered nervously.

Nami's face drained of color. "Oh no! How do they know about the crescent moon?!"

Shinobu's face darkened, her voice low and furious. "The plan… It's been leaked."

As Hawkins's subordinates began combing the bathhouse, his gaze locked onto the unusually large shadow cast beneath Shinobu. His eyes narrowed with suspicion.

"Someone's hiding back there," he said, his voice dangerously calm.

Nami flinched, her heart pounding. "Oh, shoot…"

Hawkins drew his straw sword, pointing it toward Shinobu. "Show yourself!"

Robin tensed, preparing to act. "I'll back you up if anything happens, Nami." Sacchan nodded in agreement, knuckles tensing and ready.

Nami stepped out hesitantly, holding her hands up in a show of surrender. "S-sorry! I wasn't trying to hide…"

Hawkins's eyes widened in recognition, his composure momentarily slipping. "That woman—"

Nami spoke hastily, "I'm just a simple, passing—"

Before she could finish, her towel betrayed her, slipping away in a mortifying instant. Gasps rippled through the room as bath-goers — men and women alike — froze in stunned awe.

"Ahhh!" one bather exclaimed. "What a national treasure!"

Indeed, before their eyes stood a figure so breathtakingly divine that the author, unfortunately, can not describe it without changing the rating of this fanfic to M.

Blood erupted from noses like fountains, staining the air with their collective astonishment.

Nami crouched, scrambling to cover herself. "Eek!"

Shinobu's jaw dropped in disbelief. "Utter destruction!"

Before anyone could react further, a voice rang out from a previously unnoticed corner of the room. "I… I can't take it!"

Sanji, who had been hidden until now, rocketed backward with a powerful spurt of blood from his nose as his Raid Suit's invisibility deactivated.

"Happiness… Punch!"He crashed into the wall with a loud thud, his voice filled with lovestruck delirium.

The bathhouse erupted into chaos as bath-goers pointed, yelling in unison, "It's Soba Mask! I saw him yesterday!"

Sanji, oblivious to the turmoil, continued muttering incoherently, his face flushed. "N-Nami-swan's… ample… bountiful… curvaceous…"

Robin, her composure intact despite the absurdity, crossed her arms. "Sanji?! What are you doing here?"

Nami glared at him, her face still flushed. "What's with that ridiculous outfit?! Is this some kind of joke?"

Drake, overhearing from outside, froze mid-step, his expression shifting to one of pure exasperation. "Did you say Soba Mask?!"

A subordinate's shout confirmed his suspicion. "Sounds like he's inside!"

Drake stormed in, axe drawn. "Where is Soba—"

His words faltered as his gaze landed on a random female bather. His face turned crimson, and he stumbled back, covering his eyes.

"If you're weak to the sight of a woman's body, just admit it." Hawkins berated him.

"I'm… not… weak…" Drake muttered weakly.

Taking advantage of the chaos, Nami gestured to the others. "Let's get out of here while we can!"

The bathhouse descended further into chaos, with steam and shouts filling the air as the commotion intensified. Hawkins, his face etched with a rare expression of disbelief, helped Drake to his feet. His tone shifted to low and serious.

"You're from the North Blue, aren't you, Drake?"

Drake straightened, still flustered. "So are you. What of it?"

Hawkins's gaze turned to the figure in the Raid Suit, standing amidst the chaos. "Then I'm sure you recognize him."

Drake's eyes widened, his breath catching in his throat. "That's Germa 66's…STEALTH BLACK!"

The realization hit them both like a thunderclap, momentarily breaking their stoic facades under the weight of shared childhood awe. Hawkins gulped, his voice uncharacteristically unsteady. "Every child from the North Blue knows the story of Sora, Warrior of the Sea…"

Drake nodded slowly, his expression a mix of astonishment and confusion. "Germa… the real thing?"

Sanji, standing poised in his Raid Suit, growled faintly behind his mask but said nothing. His adversaries' fleeting moment of awe gave the women the perfect opportunity to act.

"Now's our chance!" Nami hissed, tugging Robin and the others toward the nearest exit, quickly grabbing their clothes as they did. The bathers, already in a state of panic, surged forward en masse, creating a frenzy that even Hawkins's subordinates struggled to control.

Through the chaos, a commanding voice rang out, slicing through the din like a blade. "What's going on here?"

Hijikata, the demonic vice-chief of the Shinsengumi, burst through the bathhouse doors. His piercing gaze scanned the scene, pausing momentarily as his eyes fell on Hawkins, Drake, and Sanji. "What the hell…"

Drake turned toward the Vice-Chief, his voice gruff. "Stay out of this, Shinsengumi. This is Beast Pirate business."

Hijikata's eyes narrowed, refusing to let himself be cowed into submission. "You're still in the Flower Capital, and that makes it my business."

"And you," he barked, his focus shifting to the blood-drenched figure in the Raid Suit, "care to explain why you're wrecking bathhouses now?"

Sanji smirked beneath his mask, his voice calm but laced with defiance, which would have been far more impressive if not for the slight amount of blood still leaking from his nose. "Wrecking? Nah, you've got the wrong guy. I'm just here keeping the ladies safe. Can't say the same for these clowns."

Hijikata growled, the grip on his katana tightening. "Says the guy covered head to toe in blood. I seem to recall you used some strange ability to make yourself invisible last night. Care to explain why you're using it here?"

"..." Sanji swiftly turned away, refusing to answer, his silence an answer in itself.

"That's what I thought. And here I thought you were at least half decent after last night." Hijikata's lip curled in irritation as he drew his blade, the sound of steel against the sheath ringing ominously in the steam-filled air. "Sangoro the Soba Chef, you're under arrest for voyeurism and disorderly conduct. Whatever business these two have with you can wait until after they pick you up from the station."

"And just maybe after I get a few answers of my own," Hijikata secretly thought to himself, the weight of the flyer in his coat pocket suddenly feeling heavier.

Drake's eyes darkened, his voice low and threatening. "You think you're in any position to order us around? Remember, this guy falls within our jurisdiction."

Hijikata's eyes burned with defiance, his voice steely. "You can have him after I write up the charges. Until then, he's coming with me."

Amid the standoff, Nami's voice rang out in panic from the shadows. "Let's just get out of here for now!"

Hawkins, snapping out of his momentary awe, drew his straw blade.

"I won't let you!" He declared as his straw sword snaked out, prepared to capture the women.

Sanji's stance shifted, his eyes blazing beneath the mask. With a burst of speed, he rocketed forward, kicking the undulating blade away and getting all attention back on him again. "No ladies will be harmed while I'm here!"

Steam and chaos filled the bathhouse as the battle erupted. Hawkins was the first to strike, his Straw Sword slithering through the air like a venomous serpent, each swipe unnervingly precise. Sanji darted away with ease, his movements quick and fluid as he evaded the unpredictable weapon.

Drake wasn't far behind, leaping high with his massive four-bladed axe aimed squarely at Sanji. The weapon came down with a deafening crash, splintering the wooden floor where Sanji had just been standing. Drake growled, his sharp eyes tracking his elusive target.

"Hold still, you damn Germa scum!" he roared.

Hijikata, katana gleaming in the steamy light, was next to join the fray. He attacked with calculated precision, slicing through the air with practiced ease. His strikes came faster than the others, each one meant to pin Sanji down, but the masked fighter was too quick, too nimble.

Sanji, now airborne thanks to his Raid Suit, hovered just out of reach, his speed turning him into a blur of black. He zipped through the air, floating just out of reach and making glancing kicks that left his opponents struggling to keep up as he darted out of reach once more. His speed was almost too much to track, forcing the trio to react on instinct alone.

Hawkins's eyes gleamed with a rare flicker of emotion. "An acceleration and flotation device…just like from the comics!"

Drake, teeth clenched, bellowed, "Why is a member of the evil army helping people?! Stealth Black?!"

Sanji paused for a moment, his temper flaring at the mention of the hated name of his family's kingdom. "Don't call me that, bastard! I'm Soba Mask, dammit!"

Hawkins sneered. "You're Germa! Cut the crap!"

Drake pointed his axe at Sanji. "Go to hell, Germa 66!"

Hijikata, still relentless, grunted, "I don't care what he is. I'm arresting this pervert!"

Sanji suddenly rocketed forward, his boot colliding with Hijikata's katana in a shower of sparks as the two wrestled for dominance, both men glaring daggers at each other.

"Who are you calling a pervert, you shitty Moss-head?!" Sanji snapped.

Hijikata blinked, momentarily thrown off. "Moss-head?"

Sanji hesitated, his anger faltering for just a second. The two glanced off each other, Sanji landing on the ground momentarily as he scratched his head in confusion. "Sorry, force of habit. I don't know why, but for some reason, you remind me of this one guy that really pisses me off…"

From a safe distance, Nami whispered. "Oh, so I wasn't the only one thinking it?"

"Apparently not." Robin hummed thoughtfully, having also noted the similarity to their own swordsman.

The brief moment of confusion was all Sanji needed. With a burst of speed, he charged forward, preparing a kick. Hijikata raised his sword, preparing to block — only to have his opponent suddenly vanish into thin air.

Hawkins' expression darkened, his grip on his sword tightening. "He even has an invisibility device?!"

Sanji's disembodied voice echoed from somewhere above. "Let's get out of here!"

Before anyone could react, Sanji reappeared just long enough to scoop up the four women. Each let out startled gasps as they were lifted off their feet. With a thunderous blast, he shot upward, breaking through the bathhouse's ceiling and into the open air.

The three men raced outside, watching in disbelief as Sanji's retreating figure soared over the cityscape. His invisibility flickered, revealing his silhouette against the blue sky.

Hawkins turned sharply, his frustration evident. "They escaped through the air!"

Drake growled, his fists clenching. "I'll get you, Stealth Black!"

As the dust and steam settled, Hijikata's grip on his katana tightened. His glare remained fixed on the direction in which Sanji had vanished. Though the soba chef had escaped, Hijikata's mind was already racing with questions.

"Who the hell is that guy?" he muttered under his breath before sheathing his sword with a sharp click.

The group soared over the rooftops of the Flower Capital, the wind rushing past as Sanji expertly maneuvered through the air with his Raid Suit, the four women held securely in his grasp. Nami, despite clutching tightly to him, fixed Sanji with a pointed, questioning glare.

"So, Sanji-kun…" she began sternly, her voice cutting through the sound of the wind. "Care to explain…?"

Sanji hesitated, his eyes darting to the horizon as if searching for an escape route. "Trust me, it'll take too long to explain," he replied quickly, his tone deliberately evasive.

Robin tilted her head, studying him with a calm but knowing expression. "Did you lose too much blood?" she asked, her voice tinged with faint amusement.

"I could die happy right now!" Sanji, momentarily distracted by the memory of the bathhouse chaos, let out an exultant cry. His euphoric declaration echoed for a moment before he quickly sobered, his expression hardening. "But we don't have time for that. We need to get to Ebisu-chō. Ussop and the others are there now." His tone shifted again, a growl creeping into his voice. "It's no good that they learned about the ankle tattoos!"

Shinobu, her face shadowed by concern, muttered darkly, "Yes… how could they have known about it?"

Sacchan glanced at her teacher, noticing the grave expression on her face. "Master…" she murmured, but Shinobu seemed lost in thought.

Sanji's frustration boiled over as he clenched his teeth. "And there's one other bad piece of information…" He paused, glancing back at the women. "Bepo and his friends have been captured."

"What?!" Nami and Robin exclaimed in unison.

Sanji nodded grimly. "They're planning to use them to lure Traffy out. If we don't stop him, the entire city could plunge into chaos!"

Nami's frustration bubbled over as she glared at him. "And you were doing what during all of this?!"

Sanji winced but said nothing, focusing on their trajectory. Above them, ominous clouds seemed to gather, both literally and figuratively.

---

The quarry buzzed with the sound of tools smashing against rock. Amid the clamor of iron against stone, prisoners toiled under the watchful eyes of the guards. Among them, Luffy swung a colossal tool three times his size, his seastone cuffs doing little to dampen him. With a mighty heave, he brought the tool crashing down, pulverizing a pile of boulders and shaking the very ground beneath him.

The surrounding prisoners froze, their mouths agape as dust settled around the grinning Straw Hat. Luffy flexed his hands, smirking at the return of his strength despite the seastone cuffs hindering him.

"That tool is too heavy to be used by one person…" Hyo muttered with disbelief.

Luffy, dragging the tool toward Hyo, flashed a wide grin. "Old man, let me help you!"

"No, Straw Hat Gentleman! You don't have to trouble yourself," Hyo protested, waving his hands.

"It's nothing, don't worry about it!" Luffy exclaimed, hefting the tool once more. With a strained grunt, he pulverized the pile of stones Hyo had been chipping away at, sending a shockwave through the area.

Hyo, his disbelief melting into a smile, nodded slowly. "Straw Hat Gentleman, thank you."

Luffy turned toward him, his expression growing serious. "I'm not doing it for you," he said firmly, his fiery determination cutting through the dusty air. "I'm doing it for myself! I'm gonna get stronger and get out of here, no matter what!"

Hyo sat there breathless for a moment, enamored by the fire within the young man's eyes. Hyo straightened his back, gripping his pickaxe with renewed determination. "If you can muster that strength, then so can I!" He spat into his hands, gripping his tool tightly. "All right! Let's do thi—Woah!"

But as he raised his pickaxe, his frail body betrayed him. He stumbled backward, the weight of the tool too much for his aging, hungry frame. He shut his eyes, bracing for the sharp pain of gravel against his bare back. But it never came, his fall halted halfway. He cracked his eyes open to be greeted with the sight of curly silver hair above him.

"Easy there, old timer," Gintoki said dryly, steadying Hyo with a firm hand atop his still-raised pickaxe. "You're not going to bring back the glory days by throwing out your back. This place ain't so gracious as to offer you a stretcher, after all."

Hyo chuckled sheepishly, lowering the tool carefully. "Thank you again, Silver-Haired Gentleman. Looks like I owe you another debt."

"What, you mean with the hippo yesterday?" Gintoki leaned casually on his own pickaxe. "That was all the rubber brat's doing. I was just unlucky enough to get swallowed with him."

Hyo steadied himself, his voice softening with a note of wisdom. "You're too modest, Silver-Haired Gentleman. I've seen enough to recognize a burning soul when I see one — the soul of a samurai. Even if you won't admit it, your actions speak louder than your words. If that Straw Hat Gentleman wasn't there, I have no doubt you would've stepped in."

Gintoki scoffed, wiping imaginary sweat from his brow. "You've been stuck in these mines too long, old timer. That heat you're sensing is just me sweating under this damn sun. Nothing special about it. These days, I'm just a guy with bad luck and worse habits trying to keep my head attached to my neck."

The air in the quarry hung thick with heat and dust, but Hyo's gaze remained steady, his expression heavy with thought.

"The state of Wano has made that the reality for too many," he said quietly, his voice tinged with sorrow. "Once, samurai were a beacon of strength and honor, the pride of this land. Now… so few remain. Kaido's reign has crushed that spirit. The samurai who remain live as shadows of what they were. Even the memory of what we once stood for fades with each passing generation."

A heavy silence fell between them, the rhythmic clanging of tools on stone the only sound. Gintoki finally broke it with a scoff, hefting his pickaxe onto his shoulder.

"That's the way it always goes, isn't it?" he said, resuming his work. "You fight, you bleed, you lose people you care about… and in the end, the world keeps turning like none of it ever mattered. Honor doesn't fill empty stomachs, old timer. It's easy to talk about the good old days, but they don't mean much to folks just trying to survive now."

Hyo let out a deep sigh, his gaze drifting across the laboring prisoners. "Perhaps. Yet here we are, standing among the ruins. Because without honor, without hope, what are we? Even now, you're showing these men something they've lost until yesterday. A reason to believe again."

Gintoki snorted, wiping his brow with exaggerated weariness. "Trust me, old-timer. I'm hardly what you'd call a model citizen."

Hyo chuckled softly, studying Gintoki with a thoughtful gaze. "You joke, but I've seen that fire before. In men who refuse to let the world break them, even when the odds are impossible. Men like you. Men like him."

He gestured toward Luffy, who was enthusiastically pulverizing yet another pile of rocks, his laughter ringing out as shards of stone scattered around him. Gintoki followed Hyo's gesture, his eyes narrowing slightly before he looked away with a faint frown.

"He's a reckless idiot, that one," Gintoki muttered. "Gets an idea in his head and doesn't think about the consequences. That's how he ended up here to begin with, dragging me along with him."

"And yet," Hyo said, his voice warm with quiet admiration, "he inspires others to pick themselves up — even me. When I first came here, I had resigned myself to a miserable death. But seeing him fight, hearing his words — it rekindled something I thought I'd lost."

Gintoki's grip on his tool tightened, his expression unreadable. "Reckless hope can be dangerous, old timer," he said, his voice dropping. "It gets people hurt. Or worse."

Hyo studied him closely, his wise eyes narrowing. "You speak from experience."

Gintoki shrugged, his tone nonchalant as he glanced at the horizon. "Just common sense," he replied, but his gaze lingered, betraying the weight behind his words.

The rhythmic clang of tools on stone filled the quarry, a backdrop to Hyo's thoughtful gaze as he studied Gintoki. "You remind me of someone I once knew."

Gintoki glanced over, one brow lifting. "In a good way, I hope."

Hyo chuckled, a rich, warm sound despite the somber surroundings. "Eh, a bit of both. Less of a friend, more of a rival."

"Oh yeah? Who was the unlucky bastard?"

Hyo raised his tool to continue his work, his expression distant as he recalled the past. "A thorny man," he began, his tone tinged with both affection and exasperation. "Stubborn and unyielding, always pretending to care less than he did. And yet, his heart was always in the right place, with kindness buried beneath his gruff exterior."

"Sounds like a real pain in the ass," Gintoki quipped, smirking slightly.

"He was," Hyo admitted. "But he was also the kind of man you'd want by your side in a fight. And the kind of man who'd take on the burden of being the villain if it meant protecting those he cared for."

Gintoki's smirk faltered, his eyes narrowing slightly. "Must've been one hell of a guy if he made it through Wano's mess without losing his head."

Hyo's laughter faded, replaced by a wistful smile. "I do not know where he is now, though I choose to believe that he has done well for himself." His gaze dropped, a flicker of sorrow crossing his face. "Not all of us were so fortunate. Many of us were caught in Orochi's traps before we could even see the battlefield."

The weight of his words settled between them like a stone. Hyo's sharp eyes lifted again, studying Gintoki's face. "I heard you fought in the Joui War, yes?"

Gintoki stiffened, his grip tightening imperceptibly on his pickaxe. For a moment, his usual air of indifference cracked, revealing a shadow of something far heavier.

"A lifetime ago," he said quietly, his voice edged with a deep weariness.

The clang of pickaxes on stone echoed through the quarry as Hyo sighed, his expression clouded with old memories. "A shame I could not stand with you then," he murmured, his voice low. "Instead, before I could even raise my sword, I was arrested and sent here, powerless to protect the home I loved."

For a moment, Gintoki said nothing. His eyes seemed far away, caught in memory — a cliffside overlooking a battlefield bathed in blood, the cries of the fallen ringing in his ears as he approached a long-haired figure kneeling atop a hill, gazing over the carnage. His grip tightened in his pickaxe, mirroring the way his fingers had clenched the hilt of his sword that day, the day he swung it and took everything away.

"Fighting's not all it's cracked up to be," Gintoki said, his usual nonchalance faltering. His voice softened, tinged with an uncharacteristic solemnity. "Win or lose, it usually just leaves behind pain, regrets, and a mess you can't clean up. There's no real honor in it, just a lot of blood and things you wish you could take back."

His thoughts drifted again further, unbidden, to a classroom filled with laughter and the faces of friends — Momonosuke, Hiyori, Katsura, Takasugi, and so many others he would never see again. The memory warmed him for a fleeting second.

"But even with all that," Gintoki continued, his tone steady, "there are still some things worth protecting: the hope for a better future and the people who fight to make it real. Guys like me, who've made their share of mistakes, might not be part of that future. But if the battles we've fought can help someone else live a life worth living, maybe it wasn't all for nothing."

Hyo nodded slowly, his weathered face softening. "Well, you certainly are not alone in that department. Perhaps that's why Straw Hat Man inspires me so much. His drive — it's pure, untouched by the weight of failure or regret."

Gintoki's eyes wandered to Luffy again, still hammering away at the rocks, his boundless energy defying the oppressive atmosphere of the prison. The boy's laughter rang out, drawing brief smiles from the other prisoners.

"Yeah, people like Straw Hat Gentleman remind me that survival isn't enough," Hyo said, his voice growing firmer. "That we can strive for something greater, even in the face of overwhelming odds. And I have the feeling you're no different than him."

Gintoki scoffed lightly, his gaze flickering back to Hyo. "Yeah, he's something, all right. Annoying as hell, but something. But there's more to strength than chasing dreams. You need to know when to stand, when to bend, when to fight, and when to walk away. Charging forward without a plan just gets people hurt."

Hyo turned toward him, curiosity sparking in his eyes. "And yet, you don't strike me as the type to walk away when it matters. The fact that you're still here, still standing, says something about the kind of man you are. Even if you won't admit it."

For a moment, Gintoki straightened, the lazy mask he wore cracking just slightly. Something deeper, something raw, flickered in his expression before he rolled his eyes with a faint smirk. "You talk too much, old man."

Hyo chuckled a warm and knowing sound. "And you deflect too much, Silver-Haired Gentleman. But it's not my place to press. Just know that the strength you carry, the wisdom you've earned — it has its place. Just like Straw Hat Gentleman's drive."

The clang of pickaxes filled the air as Gintoki lingered by the edge of the quarry. His gaze was fixed on the energetic Straw Hat, who showed no signs of slowing down. Gintoki groaned, running a hand through his silver hair.

"I better go check on that idiot before he brings the whole quarry down," he muttered to himself, shaking his head. As he turned to leave, Gintoki slipped a small bundle of meal tickets from his pocket, letting them drop to the dusty ground with an exaggerated nonchalance.

"Whoops," he said gruffly, his tone dripping with sarcasm. "Guess my grip's weakening. Must be all this hard labor. These are no good to me now. Someone better pick 'em up before they get trampled."

For a moment, Hyo looked as though he might say something, but then his gaze softened with understanding. Bowing deeply, he stooped to collect the bundle.

"Thank you, Silver-Haired Gentleman," he said, his voice filled with quiet gratitude. "Your kindness does not go unnoticed."

Gintoki didn't reply, only waving a hand dismissively as if to brush off the sentiment, already walking toward Luffy.

Hyo smiled as he made his way to the meal line, his steps more assured than they had been in years. Gintoki, meanwhile, reached Luffy, who had been observing the whole exchange, his expression both curious and frustrated.

"Hey, Permy," Luffy called, his tone direct.

Gintoki, by this point, didn't even flinch at the nickname. "What is it now, Stretch?"

"What's your deal, anyway?" Luffy asked bluntly, his brow furrowed.

"My deal?" Gintoki raised an eyebrow, leaning casually against a rock.

"One minute you're helping people, the next you're acting like a jerk. Then you go back to helping again. What's your problem? Are you trying to help or not?" Luffy's voice was sharp.

Gintoki let out a long, exaggerated sigh, crossing his arms as if the question was exhausting. "You wouldn't get it, kid. It's one of those 'life is complicated' things. Haven't you heard the term 'chaotic neutral'? Not everything's black and white. It's more like... I dunno, a mix of colors in a crappy watercolor painting where the blue keeps bleeding into the red because the painter was too drunk to separate them properly after an awkward dinner with the in-laws."

Luffy blinked, visibly trying to parse through the nonsense he had just been handed. "What?"

"Exactly," Gintoki replied with a straight face, waving him off as if that explained everything and that Luffy was just an idiot (which, you know, wasn't entirely wrong). "That's the wisdom of a seasoned veteran for you. Don't strain your brain trying to figure it out, kid. You'll just hurt yourself."

"You're weird," Luffy muttered.

"And you're loud," Gintoki shot back, waving a dismissive hand.

Luffy grumbled, hefting his tool and stomping off toward the next pile of rocks. Gintoki watched Luffy for a moment, his smirk fading as his gaze drifted to the scattered prisoners working in the quarry. For a brief second, something unspoken flickered across his face — regret, resolve, or perhaps a combination of both — but it vanished as quickly as it appeared, replaced by his usual aloofness.

Luffy, however, caught that fleeting change in his demeanor. He hesitated, glancing back at the wavy-haired jerk. There was something about him that didn't add up, and it nagged at Luffy's mind.

"Hey, Permy—" Luffy started again, but before he could finish, a wet splat landed near his foot. He recoiled, grimacing as he glared at the slimy mess.

"Gross!" he exclaimed, sidestepping the offending puddle.

"Hey, you two!" A gruff voice called out, drawing their attention. Striding toward them was a Beast Pirate Gifter with an alpaca's elongated neck and head. His sneer revealed crooked teeth as he eyed the pair.

"I need to ask you something," the Alpaca-Man snarled, his tone dripping with condescension.

Luffy and Gintoki exchanged a glance, an unspoken understanding passing between them. Whatever this guy wanted, it was guaranteed to be trouble.

---

Over by the food stand, Hyo clutched his bowl of dango like a treasure. His hands trembled slightly as he picked up one of the plain, undressed rice flour balls, staring at it as though it were a glittering gem.

"I haven't eaten this much in a long time…" he murmured, his voice quivering with emotion. Tears welled up as he raised a hand in a half-prayer. "Ever since those Straw-Hat and Silver-Haired Gentlemen came, I've been blessed. Not just once—they've saved me so many times. Thank you. I'm gonna eat these with appreciation."

With trembling fingers, he picked up one of the dango and brought it to his mouth. But before he could take a bite, a voice cut through the air like a whip.

"Hey!"

Hyo froze, turning slowly toward the source of the condescending tone. A shadow loomed over him, and his eyes met the cruel, gleaming gaze of Daifugo, the prison's Vice Warden. His dark leather attire and spiked pants adorned his six legs, as the scorpion stinger on his long, purple ponytail twitched menacingly.

"Let me have some," Daifugo sneered, taking a step closer. "Those dango look delicious."

---

Good to be back and writing again. See you all next time!