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*****
Totto Land, New World
The newly rebuilt throne room of Whole Cake Island was a grand display of opulence, lined with vibrant confectionery architecture and enchanted homies buzzing with life.
Yet, despite its beauty, a dark tension hung in the air as Linlin—Big Mom herself—sat upon her massive throne. Her shrill laughter echoed through the chamber like a harbinger of chaos, the sound alone enough to make her children uneasy.
"Mamamama...!" Linlin cackled, holding a detailed report in her hands, savoring the intelligence her network had recently uncovered. The Big Mom Pirates had wasted no time reestablishing their information network after reclaiming their territories. Her sharp eyes scanned the parchment again, a predatory grin spreading across her face.
"So that old bat Redfield is still alive," she mused, tapping her fingernails against the armrest.
"I thought he'd crawled into a hole and died of shame after being captured and thrown into Impel Down. To think he was hiding in the Elsar Kingdom... Mamamama!" Her laughter erupted once more, though the sinister gleam in her eyes showed that her amusement was far from genuine.
"Mama," Katakuri's voice cut through the echoing laughter, calm but laced with unease. "Aren't you focusing on the wrong thing? Shouldn't our attention be on the man who fought Redfield to a standstill? Word is that it was Redfield who retreated from the battle."
Katakuri's unease was clear. Recent rumors painted Rosinante, the leader of the Donquixote brothers, as a figure of overwhelming strength. Big Mom's invitation to the brothers for the upcoming tea party was more than a mere formality—it was a carefully constructed trap. Refusal to attend would mark them as cowards. But should they arrive, Linlin intended to subdue them or eliminate them outright.
It was a tactic the Big Mom Pirates had employed countless times, yet Katakuri couldn't shake his discomfort. Rosinante's clash with Redfield wasn't something to dismiss lightly. Redfield was a pirate who had once stood alongside the likes of Roger and Shiki—a living legend.
Could even Mama's strength be certain against such a foe? And if Rosinante could fight him to a stalemate, what did that say about the Donquixote brothers?
Linlin's grin twisted into a scowl as she noticed Katakuri's hesitation. "Since when did you lose your spine, Katakuri?" she sneered.
"He's just a brat. And Redfield? That fossil lost his edge the moment Garp crushed him. There's nothing to worry about!" Her voice boomed, shaking the room as her aura flared. "If those Donquixote brothers dare set foot on my island, they'll have two choices: become my loyal dogs or perish! Mamamama!"
Her confidence didn't ease Katakuri's concern. As he clenched his fists, he couldn't help but think of the young master of the Donquixote Family, the sheer presence Rosinante had exuded during their brief encounters. Underestimating someone like that wasn't just foolish—it was suicidal.
Big Mom suddenly shifted her attention, her gaze locking onto Perospero, who stood rigid and sweating bullets. "Perospero," she growled, her voice low but charged with menace. "What news do we have of Zunesha?"
Perospero gulped. Despite being the eldest, his terror of his mother was as deep-rooted as his loyalty. He fidgeted with his candy cane staff before responding. "Mama… unfortunately, there's no concrete information about Zunesha's location. The Mink Tribe has covered their tracks well. However…" He hesitated, glancing at Katakuri for reassurance.
"However?" Linlin's voice turned icy, and the shadows of her homies loomed around her like a growing storm.
"We've uncovered a lead," Perospero said hurriedly. "It's about the red poneglyph that was once in our possession."
The shift in the room's atmosphere was immediate and suffocating. Linlin straightened on her throne, her massive form emanating waves of dark energy. Black tendrils of her soul power writhed like serpents, the homies around her cackling and crackling in response to her rising anger.
"Speak!" Linlin roared, her eyes blazing with fury. "Who dared take what belongs to me?!" Her voice was like an earthquake, and even the enchanted walls of the throne room seemed to tremble.
Perospero flinched but forced himself to continue. "Rumors say it's in the possession of a man with a burn scar , no one knows his true name, out on the seas he is known only as 'Hinokizu.'" His voice quavered, but he pressed on.
"This man… he's said to travel aboard a black ship, sinking any vessel that comes near. We believe he may have stolen it during the chaos when Whole Cake Island was unguarded."
Linlin's growl was low and guttural, drool dripping from her mouth as her rage boiled over. The air in the room grew heavier as her presence dominated everything, the dark tendrils of her soul power lashing out unpredictably.
"A man with a burn scar... Hinokizu, is it?" Her teeth ground together audibly as her bloodlust filled the room. "And that's all you've got?! You didn't even manage to find a name?! Useless!"
Perospero trembled under the weight of her anger. "Th-there's little information about him, Mama. He's an enigma—no one who encounters his ship lives to tell the tale. The name 'Hinokizu' is all we've managed to glean."
Linlin slammed a massive fist onto the armrest of her throne, cracking it. "Hinokizu…" she snarled, her eyes narrowing as she leaned forward. "It doesn't matter who he is or what he's hiding. No one steals from me and lives to tell the tale! Mark my words, Perospero—I'll tear the seas apart if I have to!"
Katakuri's jaw tightened as he watched the exchange, his unease only growing. Mama's obsession with reclaiming her road poneglyph was driving her deeper into a reckless frenzy, and the threat of the Donquixote Family loomed ever closer.
As Linlin's laughter filled the room once more, the ominous promise of bloodshed hung heavy in the air. The Big Mom Pirates were gearing up for a confrontation, but Katakuri couldn't shake the feeling that their mother was vastly underestimating the storm brewing on the horizon.
The flickering light from enchanted homies cast eerie shadows across the confection-covered walls. A palpable sense of unease filled the air—her children had learned that silence was safest when their mother was in one of her moods. Yet, as Linlin turned her attention toward her eldest son, Perospero, the atmosphere grew heavier still.
"What about Kaido, that brat?" Linlin's voice thundered, sharp and cold as an executioner's axe. "Did he accept the invitation for the tea party?" Her tone betrayed a rare hint of frustration.
Though her confidence in her strength was absolute, she wasn't foolish enough to ignore the fact that Rosinante had fought Redfield to a draw. Kaido, she knew, had deep ties to the Donquixote brothers. If Kaido attended, she could use him to tilt the scales in her favor.
Perospero's uneasy silence told her everything she needed to know.
"So, that lizard bastard refused..." Linlin's sneer twisted her features into something feral.
"Coward," she spat. Her fingers drummed against the armrest of her throne as she seethed. "That brute thinks he can use me and wash his hands clean? I'll teach him a lesson sooner or later. But for now…" Her sharp gaze locked back onto Perospero.
"What about Elbaf? Did you send the invitation to the giants? And don't tell me you failed me again, Perospero."
Big Mom's obsession with Elbaf ran deep, an all-consuming hunger for the power and prestige of the Giant Kingdom. To call it an obsession would be an understatement—it was a fixation rooted in betrayal and ambition. Linlin had long known the truth: securing the allegiance of the giants was the key to world domination.
"Yes, Mama!" Perospero blurted, his candy cane staff shaking slightly in his hands. "And surprisingly, Prince Loki has agreed to visit us!"
Linlin paused, her brow lifting in genuine surprise. The scowl from Kaido's refusal melted into a wide, predatory grin.
"Loki, you say?" Her eyes gleamed as she leaned forward, a gluttonous hunger in her expression. "The prince of Elbaf himself... Mamamama! Now, this is good news."
She reclined in her throne, a hundred schemes forming in her mind. Loki was a prodigy among giants, hailed as the "Blessed Prince." Despite being the younger sibling, he was destined to inherit the throne of Elbaf.
Even the World Government had reportedly tried to recruit him. His strength and influence were unparalleled within his kind. If Linlin could sway him to her side—no, if she could bind him—it would be a monumental step toward realizing her dream. She would sacrifice any number of her children to make it happen.
"Make sure everything is perfect," she ordered, her voice sharp as steel. "No mistakes. Not a single one. Understood?"
"Yes, Mama!" Perospero replied, bowing deeply before scurrying off to oversee preparations.
Linlin reached for a massive chunk of cake, stuffing it into her mouth with relish as she pondered. Her appetite, insatiable as ever, mirrored the storm brewing in her mind.
As the throne room cleared, leaving only Linlin and Katakuri, she turned her gaze toward her second son. "What is it, Katakuri? Spit it out." Her voice was gruff, muffled by the dessert she was devouring.
Katakuri stood tall, unshaken by her imposing presence. His expression was grim, his jaw tight with the weight of what he was about to say. "There's a rumor, Mama… troubling news from the New World."
Linlin chuckled, the sound low and mocking. "Mamama… don't tell me someone's found Laugh Tale before us? Or maybe Rocks has climbed out of his grave and is sailing the seas again?" She threw her head back, laughing at her own joke.
But Katakuri's serious expression didn't waver. The laughter died in Linlin's throat as she noticed his stern gaze.
"What is it?" she asked, her tone darker now, edged with annoyance.
"The rumor…" Katakuri began, his voice steady but low. "It's about Golden Lion Shiki. There are reports he's alive. He was allegedly spotted in the New World."
The words hung in the air like a thunderclap. Linlin's laughter was replaced by a sharp glare.
"Shiki?" she scoffed, her disbelief evident. "Katakuri, have you lost your marbles? Shiki is dead. I saw it myself!" Her voice grew louder as she leaned forward, towering over her son.
"When the ancient weapon hit, I was there. That yellow cat was at the center of it all. Swallowed whole. I felt his haki vanish from this world. He's gone, Katakuri. Dead!"
Katakuri didn't flinch. "With respect, Mama, there's no concrete evidence either way. But if there's even a chance the Golden Lion is alive, we must prepare. His return could shift the balance of the entire New World."
Linlin leaned back in her throne, her expression hardening. "Shiki's alive... hah!" She waved her hand dismissively.
"You're letting rumors cloud your judgment. You've been too soft since your time with those Donquixote brats, haven't you? After all, you served as their prisoner for quite some time." Her grin twisted cruelly, taunting him.
Katakuri met her gaze, his composure unbroken.
Her tone turned sharper, her words cutting. "It's your duty to bring those Donquixote brothers to heel, Katakuri. I expect you to convince them to serve me. You've got the same physique as I do now, don't you? You should have no problem crushing that Rosinante brat and throwing him at my feet. Don't disappoint me again."
The sheer force of her aura as she spoke shook the throne room, the palace walls trembling as her words echoed. Katakuri's fists clenched, but he gave no sign of fear or defiance.
"As you wish, Mama," he said quietly.
Big Mom smirked, confident in her son's obedience. But as Katakuri turned and left the throne room, his mind churned with doubt. He knew Rosinante wasn't someone who could be crushed so easily, nor was he someone to bow to Linlin's will.
A storm was brewing in the New World, and Katakuri could feel the tides of fate shifting. What role the Big Mom Pirates would play in the chaos to come was uncertain, but one thing was clear: Linlin's hubris might very well be her undoing.
*****
Dressrosa, New World
The opulent chamber within the grand palace brimmed with an air of controlled tension, its gilded furnishings and velvet drapes reflecting the light of chandeliers. For a rare occasion, Donquixote Doflamingo himself had made an appearance to greet his guests personally.
It wasn't something he often did, but the identity of the visitors intrigued him enough to cut short his grueling training session.
Before him stood Miyamoto, a stalwart figure who had long served under Doflamingo's younger brother, Rosinante. Beside him was Denjiro, holding a little girl with delicate features and wide, curious eyes—the kind of gaze that still radiated innocence despite the weight of her lineage.
Hiyori, the princess of the Kozuki clan and possibly the future ruler of Wano, barely five years old, clung tightly to Denjiro, her tiny fingers gripping his clothing.
To their side was Christina, one of Rosinante's allies, visibly captivated by Doflamingo's commanding presence. She couldn't help but marvel at the way he carried himself—his every step exuding charisma and a predator's confidence.
Doflamingo's sharp grin widened as his piercing eyes locked onto the girl. "Fufufufu… So the bloodline of Kozuki Oden lives," he mused, stepping forward.
His gloved hand extended as if to pinch the girl's cheek—a gesture more curious than cruel—but Denjiro instinctively stepped back, shielding Hiyori in his arms.
Miyamoto's jaw tightened at the overreaction, but Doflamingo only laughed, his sharp teeth glinting in the light. There wasn't a trace of offense in his expression. If anything, he admired Denjiro's reflexes and loyalty. People like him—the unwaveringly devoted—were rare in a treacherous world.
Still, his tone turned sly, the teasing note in his voice undercut by its razor edge. "So, if I understand correctly, you're asking the Donquixote family to provide asylum for the little princess. To shield her from all the vultures circling Wano and every enemy eager to snuff out her bloodline. That's it, right?"
Doflamingo's eyes flicked to Miyamoto, who stood firm and silent. The samurai didn't need to explain his reasoning; his actions spoke loudly enough. By bringing Denjiro and Hiyori here, Miyamoto had silently pledged his trust in the family's strength and Doflamingo's ruthlessness.
He wouldn't have dared make this move unless he was certain the family would stand behind him, even without Rosinante's prior approval.
Doflamingo's grin widened, his sunglasses glinting as he chuckled. "Fufufufufu… Miyamoto, you surprise me. All these years serving under my brother, and I started to believe you weren't capable of making decisions without someone else pulling your strings. Always waiting for orders like a loyal soldier." His mocking laughter filled the room.
"But look at you now! Making bold moves for the family. Bringing me a little princess to protect."
The taunt hung in the air, but Miyamoto remained composed, unfazed by Doflamingo's sharp words. He knew the Donquixote family's core—its unshakable loyalty to its own. As long as he acted without harming the family's interest and a clear conscience, they would back him without question. This was what it meant to belong to a true family.
Doflamingo's laughter abruptly stopped as his gaze turned icy, his focus shifting to Denjiro. The room seemed to grow colder.
"But let's not pretend you came here for purely noble reasons, Denjiro. Fufufufu… You think you can use my family's power to take down Kaido, don't you? A textbook move, really. You bring the Kozuki princess here, hoping to hide her behind my walls while we bleed ourselves dry avenging your fallen master."
Denjiro's jaw clenched, his grip on Hiyori tightening. He couldn't deny the truth in Doflamingo's words. This man was sharper than any blade in Wano, his mind cutting through subterfuge with ruthless efficiency.
For a moment, Denjiro thought Doflamingo might lash out. But instead, the Heavenly Yaksha threw his head back and laughed. His voice boomed, filling the chamber with a sense of wild energy.
"Good! Good!" he bellowed, the sound echoing against the ornate walls. "I like it! The deeper the grudge, the sweeter the victory. Let that lizard bastard Kaido slip deeper into despair. Let him know what it feels like to lose everything. And when I take his head, it'll be a masterpiece of pain and humiliation."
The intensity of Doflamingo's declaration was palpable, even for someone as stoic as Denjiro. Behind him, Señor Pink leaned against a pillar, sighing and shaking his head. "Master sure has a knack for keeping people on edge…"
Doflamingo's voice softened slightly, though the malice remained. He turned to Miyamoto, his grin returning.
"You see, Miyamoto, this isn't a burden for the Donquixote family—it's an opportunity. And you? You've proven something to me today. I can trust you to act in our family's interest, even without orders from my brother. Don't disappoint me now, or I'll be sure to remind you why loyalty isn't the same as obedience."
Miyamoto gave a slight bow, his confidence unwavering. He hadn't doubted for a second that Doflamingo would accept the girl, even if it meant adding another layer to the ever-growing conflict between their family and the Beast Pirates.
Denjiro, though still wary, found himself wondering about the true extent of Doflamingo's plans. This man wasn't just offering asylum; he was weaving another thread into his web of schemes, one that would eventually choke Kaido and anyone else who stood in his way.
"Now," Doflamingo said, his grin widening as he reached for a cigar. "Let's make sure little Hiyori feels right at home. We wouldn't want the future ruler of Wano to be uncomfortable, would we? Fufufufufu…"
The room remained silent, but beneath the surface, the game had already begun. Doflamingo's ambitions burned as fiercely as the flame of the cigar he lit, and Hiyori Kozuki, for now, was now a piece on his board—a precious one, but a piece nonetheless, as for what the future held, that would depend on the little girl's true allegiance in the future.
As the room emptied, the air seemed to grow still, leaving only the faint aroma of Doflamingo's cigar lingering in the opulent space. Miyamoto led Denjiro out of the chamber, their footsteps fading down the marble halls as they sought a secure sanctuary within the palace for the young Kozuki princess.
The echoes of their departure melted into silence, leaving Donquixote Doflamingo alone, his tall form framed against the expansive window that overlooked the vibrant capital of Dressrosa.
The city thrived below him, alive with lights and movement, a deceptive tranquility masking the storm brewing beneath. Doflamingo took a slow, deliberate drag from his cigar, letting the ember glow bright before exhaling a thin stream of smoke. His gaze was fixed on the horizon, but his mind churned with the puzzle pieces falling into place.
"Douglas Bullet…" he murmured, the name rolling off his tongue like a venomous secret.
"So, that's the ghost that toppled Kozuki Oden. Fufufufu… No wonder my little brother was adamant that Oden's fall wasn't as simple as Kaido's brute strength or that old hag Linlin's schemes. Even combined, those two would've struggled to put Oden in the ground. But Bullet…?" His grin widened, sharp and sinister.
"Now, that changes everything."
The name carried weight, more than most would realize. It wasn't just about Kozuki Oden. This revelation scratched at the edges of a larger truth, one that had eluded him until now. Doflamingo's eyes narrowed as he connected the dots.
"Could it be…? That this 'Bullet' is tied to the deaths of the Roger Pirates? A former crewmate hunting his own…" He trailed off, his thoughts deepening. The implications were staggering. Rosinante had often hinted at a third force involved in the chaos surrounding Oden's demise, a shadow lurking just out of sight. Now, the pieces began to align.
He turned slightly, his gaze falling on Señor Pink, who leaned against a nearby pillar. The man's stoic expression didn't falter as he straightened under Doflamingo's scrutiny, understanding the silent command even before the words left his master's lips.
"I'll relay this to young master Rosinante, Master Doffy," Señor said with a curt nod, his deep voice unshaken.
"Good," Doflamingo replied, his tone measured yet laced with authority. "And while you're at it, pass this along to Shakky. I imagine Rayleigh would love to know it wasn't an outside force but one of their own slicing through the remnants of Roger's crew."
Señor paused, his lips tightening slightly at the mention of Rayleigh. The Dark King wasn't someone to be trifled with, and Doflamingo's casual suggestion of stirring that hornet's nest was a reminder of how brazenly the Heavenly Yaksha played his games.
Doflamingo, unfazed, chuckled darkly and turned back to the window. "What I can't quite grasp yet," he mused aloud, his voice carrying a curious edge, "is why. Why would Bullet risk inciting the wrath of Rayleigh, of the remnants of Roger's legacy? What's his endgame? Fufufufu… Perhaps my little brother has some insight. Or perhaps…" He trailed off, a wicked smirk spreading across his face, "this is a loose end I can pull to unravel something bigger."
The cigar burned low, and Doflamingo crushed it into an ornate ashtray, the motion as deliberate as his every move. The world was spiraling into chaos, and he was no mere spectator. He thrived in the storm, weaving his own threads through the fabric of the New World's conflicts, tightening his grip on its fate.
But for all his musings, one matter stood above the rest. The faintest flicker of excitement danced in his eyes.
"Still," he said, his voice softening to a near whisper, "all of this can wait. We've got more pressing matters arriving soon." He grinned, the thought of his upcoming meeting electrifying.
"One of the Five Elders… here, in Dressrosa. Fufufufu… what a rare privilege."
The very notion was thrilling—a figure of such power and influence descending upon his domain. Whatever their intent, Doflamingo knew it wasn't mere happenstance. He would prepare meticulously, as he always did, to ensure that this encounter furthered his ambitions.
Turning to Señor, he issued his final command before dismissing him. "Make sure everything is ready for their arrival. I don't want a single crack in our façade. Let them see Dressrosa in all its glory."
"Yes, Master Doffy," Señor replied before stepping out, his heavy boots echoing down the corridor.
Once again alone, Doflamingo let his head fall back as a soft laugh rumbled in his chest. The world was shifting, and he stood at the nexus of it all. The Kozuki princess, Douglas Bullet, the remnants of the Roger Pirates, the World Government—every thread pulled tighter into his web.
"Let the games begin," he whispered, his grin splitting wider.