I sighed, closing the intelligence report and rubbing my temples. "So things have just reverted back to how they were meant to be," I muttered to myself, skimming the latest intelligence report that little Robin had just handed over.
The war in Wano had taken an unprecedented turn, and despite Oden's triumph over the combined forces of Kaido and Big Mom, a third party had entered the fray, shifting the tides. This new player, one no one had anticipated—Douglas Bullet—had tipped the scales against Oden, leaving him defeated despite his hard-won victory.
To most, only the names of Kaido and Big Mom would ever surface as the faces of Oden's fall. But I couldn't ignore Bullet's involvement. Why had he chosen to intervene? What could he gain by helping those two monsters bring down Oden?
As I pondered over these questions, I noticed Miyamoto watching me from across the deck, his face troubled since we had received the news of Oden's defeat. He'd barely spoken since we learned what had happened in Wano, his silence weighed with unspoken emotion. There was something almost haunted in his eyes.
Finally, Miyamoto stepped forward, his voice steady but lined with a restrained intensity. "Ross-kun," he said, his tone firm, "I want to go to Wano myself… I need to see it with my own eyes."
I met his gaze, searching for the full weight of his intentions. Miyamoto, a sworn member of the Donquixote family, had long since pledged his loyalty here. But there was something deeper in his voice, an undeniable sense of regret and lingering attachment toward his homeland.
He'd been born and raised in Wano, and no matter where his loyalty lay now, Wano was in his blood. It was clear that he hadn't expected things to end like this.
"Are you certain?" I asked carefully. "Once you're there, it's not just a matter of seeing things for yourself. Wano is volatile. If Kaido catches wind of your presence, you're as good as dead."
He nodded, a grim determination settling over his face. "I understand. But still… I need to see it. I can't shake the feeling that I should have accepted your offer back then, when you wanted to send aid to Wano." He paused, and his voice lowered, weighted with remorse.
"I thought Wano's strength was enough to stand on its own. I trusted in its warriors, in Oden-sama's resolve… I was wrong. And maybe, just maybe, that doubt has been gnawing at me ever since."
I took a deep breath, considering his request. Miyamoto's desire to return wasn't just to witness the aftermath of Oden's fall. He was grappling with a sense of failure, a guilt that came from placing too much faith in Wano's resilience. He needed closure, a way to confront the choice he'd made by seeing the consequences of that choice with his own eyes.
"Fine," I relented, leaning back as I assessed him. "You can go to Wano. But make sure not to cause any trouble while you're there. If you so much as hint at your allegiance to the Donquixote family, you'll have Kaido's men breathing down your neck. I can't afford to lose you."
Miyamoto inclined his head, accepting my warning without argument, but I wasn't done. "Once we reach Dressrosa, take Christina and her men with you," I added, my tone firm.
"She'll make sure you don't do anything reckless. You know as well as I do that Kaido is no fool. If he becomes aware of your presence in Wano, he won't hesitate to turn that entire nation into a hunting ground until he finds you."
Miyamoto's eyes flickered with a shadow of irritation at my words, but he nodded all the same. He understood, as I did, that the hostility between the Donquixote family and the Beast Pirates was an open wound. If Miyamoto ventured into Wano without the right precautions, his life would be in as much danger as the territory he represented.
"Understood, Ross-kun," he replied, though his voice held a trace of resignation. "Thank you… for allowing me to go." His face softened slightly as he looked away, a pained expression flickering in his eyes.
"I can't explain it, but I… I have to see the truth of what happened, even if it brings me face to face with my own mistakes."
"It wasn't your fault, Miyamoto-san," I said, meeting his tormented gaze as he looked up at me, clearly caught off guard.
"To be honest, even if we had sent aid, I don't think we could have changed what happened. The fall of Wano… it was inevitable, orchestrated by forces we couldn't fully see."
Miyamoto's confusion deepened, his brow furrowing as he tried to understand my words. "Unlike what we believed, it wasn't just Big Mom or Kaido," I continued, letting the weight of the truth settle between us.
"There was another dark hand moving in the shadows. Someone wanted Oden sama to fall."
Miyamoto's jaw clenched, his voice hardening as he struggled to suppress his anger. "Are you talking about that traitor, Bullet, Ross-kun?"
I shook my head, reaching for another report—the one detailing recent events within Whitebeard's territory.
"No… it's much more complicated than that." I paused, letting the information I held sink in, my words hanging heavy in the air.
"Did you know that Whitebeard himself tried to come to Oden's aid? He would have, too, if not for a mysterious opponent stalling him at a crucial moment."
I passed the report to Miyamoto, who took it with trembling hands, his expression shifting from anger to pure shock.
He'd been partially holding Whitebeard responsible in his heart, blaming him for failing his sworn brother when Oden needed him most. But now, reading the report, his mind reeled at the implications.
"Stopping Whitebeard… is that even possible?" he muttered, barely audible.
"That… can't be. I didn't think there was anyone who could stall him like that." His face tightened as he recalled his assumptions, his disappointment in Whitebeard. And now, realizing that Whitebeard may have been prevented from reaching Oden by forces beyond his control, Miyamoto's resentment was mingled with new unease.
The implications were daunting. Whoever was responsible had the power to challenge the strongest pirate on the seas, to strike where they'd be least expected, and to do so without leaving a trace of their true motive.
"Ross-kun, do you know who it was?" Miyamoto asked, his voice layered with disbelief, his mind racing with questions.
I stared into the shadows of the sea, the answer stirring within me like a nagging suspicion. I didn't know for certain.
But I had an inkling—a faint thread of knowledge connecting the most powerful figures I'd encountered. There were only a handful of people in the world with the strength, cunning, and resources to counter Whitebeard himself.
"Not yet," I said, shaking my head. "But until we know their true motives, we're at a disadvantage. Even acknowledging their presence could be dangerous."
I looked down at the other report, my mind cycling through the names of those few individuals who might have the power and intent to challenge Whitebeard so directly. The answer was out there, waiting. But the unknowns weighed heavily.
"Then… what do we do?" Miyamoto asked, still reeling, his hands curling into fists as his conviction faltered. "It feels like we're playing against forces we can't even see."
"Exactly." I nodded, glancing at him before shifting to a different report, one that was equally disturbing. "And there are other forces at play. I am sure you heard of the three new Shichibukai?"
He nodded slowly, his expression darkening at the mention. "Those three… they're no ordinary pirates. I've heard rumors about Scarlett. She's supposed to be someone closest to conquering the seas until she was bested by Rocks."
"Yes, she is someone who could stand at the same level as the likes of Roger and Garp. She's not someone we can underestimate," I said, recalling my encounter with Scarlett in North Blue. When I'd first heard of her, I'd assumed she'd be another pirate playing at power.
But after that clash, I knew better. Scarlett was more than just a Shichibukai. Her strength wasn't far off from Whitebeard's. She was cunning, calculating—a woman who kept her cards close, showing only what she wanted others to see. "Scarlett has a plan, and I don't think she cares who stands in her way."
Miyamoto's eyes narrowed, the weight of my words settling over him. "Then she's even more dangerous than I thought. She's holding back, hiding her true intentions behind that title."
"Exactly. The title of Shichibukai is a means to an end for her. It gives her legitimacy, resources, a way to hide in plain sight," I said, my mind returning to the rumors swirling around her. Scarlett was far too quiet, watching, waiting. She was a viper, coiled and poised to strike.
"Whatever her motives are, she's not just interested in a title. She has an agenda, and Wano's fall might just be a part of it."
"Do you think she's connected to what happened with Oden?" Miyamoto asked, piecing together the information, his voice filled with a tense curiosity.
"I wouldn't rule it out, there aren't many who can challenge Whitebeard and live to tell the tale." I replied.
"But Scarlett isn't the only one we should be wary of. The others might appear less dangerous, but they're all in this game for a reason. They're positioning themselves, biding their time, each one with their own ambitions."
****
Holy Land, Redline
In the hallowed chamber where the fate of the world was often decided, Elder Saturn paced back and forth along the polished marble floor. It was unusual for him to be so visibly tense; even rarer still was the silence that blanketed the room.
The other elders sat, their faces unreadable, but their eyes tracked Saturn's every step, anticipation hanging thick in the air. They all knew he had been summoned directly by Imu-sama—a rare, almost ominous event.
Finally, Elder Warcury broke the silence, unable to keep his impatience hidden any longer. "Elder Saturn, are you going to tell us what Imu-sama's command is, or will you just keep pacing like a caged lion?"
Warcury's irritation was thinly veiled, but even he knew the weight of Imu-sama's summons was not to be taken lightly. Still, the silence gnawed at all of them, each elder bracing for Saturn's next words.
Elder Saturn stopped his pacing, pausing as if weighing each word he was about to deliver. He took a breath, steadied himself, and finally returned to his seat, his expression as guarded as ever.
When he finally spoke, his words struck the room like a thunderclap.
"Imu-sama has decreed us to extend an invitation to the Donquixote brothers for the upcoming Reverie."
The shock was palpable. The room, once blanketed in tense silence, was now electric with disbelief. Elder Nusjuro, who rarely showed any emotion, felt his calm demeanor waver, his eyes widening in unguarded surprise.
"The Donquixote brothers?" he repeated, almost as if questioning his own hearing. "You can't be serious."
Saturn's stony expression was confirmation enough; there was no jest in his eyes. His silence served as a resounding answer, his face revealing nothing but the barest hint of troubled contemplation. He leaned forward, his fingers laced together, as the room struggled to process the gravity of the command.
Elder Ju Peter cleared his throat, his voice steady but underscored with apprehension. "It has been years since Imu-sama has shown such direct interest in worldly affairs. Why now? And to involve both Donquixote brothers?"
His voice held a note of disbelief as he continued, "Imu-sama must be aware of the threat these two pose to the balance we've maintained. To summon them together… surely, Imu-sama understands the risks?"
His voice trailed off, the unsaid concerns hanging heavily in the air. "What purpose could Imu-sama possibly see in this?"
Saturn closed his eyes for a brief moment, as if fortifying himself, and spoke in a low, grave tone.
"Who can truly grasp Imu-sama's intentions?" Elder Saturn replied, his voice tempered with reverence and caution. "Our role is to obey, not to question. But, if I were to speculate…"
"Imu-sama may believe that the Donquixote brothers hold critical insight into certain… recent developments that have unsettled the balance we've fought to maintain. They could even prove to be the key to extending our authority for the next thousand years. Their continuous survival despite repeated attempts to eliminate them, the Donquixote Pirates' ever-expanding influence, their ascent to the ranks of Emperors, and even whispers of their possession of ancient weapons—these are not events we can allow to spiral out of control any further."
Elder Warcury's eyes darkened, his fingers tapping against the table as he considered Saturn's words. "So Imu-sama believes the Donquixotes could be the key to reasserting control over the situation?"
Elder Saturn's jaw tightened ever so slightly. "It would seem that Imu-sama considers them a necessary factor. Whether as allies, pawns, or something else entirely… remains to be seen."
Elder Mar's gaze narrowed as he leaned forward. "And what exactly are we supposed to accomplish by allowing these brothers into the Reverie? Even after their family has abandoned their Celestial Dragon status, they continue to disrupt the balance of power. Imu-sama knows that as well as we do. We may not even know the full extent of their ambition."
"Indeed," Saturn replied, his voice as steady as stone, though his eyes betrayed a flicker of unease.
"And that's precisely why we can't afford to turn a blind eye any longer. Imu-sama wishes for us to measure the Donquixote brothers directly—to judge their intentions, strengths, and vulnerabilities in person."
Warcury leaned back in his seat, his gaze steely. "Then what do you propose, Elder Saturn? Surely we can't simply welcome them into the heart of our power structure without some… oversight?"
Saturn's lips curled in a faint, grim smile. "Precisely. This invitation to the Reverie comes with conditions, of course. Imu-sama's intentions remain obscure, yet… I suspect Imu-sama might want to meet the two brothers personally."
The air in the room grew thick with tension as Saturn's words registered, sinking in like a stone into deep water. Almost instantly, two of the elders shot to their feet. Elder Nusjuro's hand had gripped his sword so tightly that the soft hum of steel against scabbard rang through the silence, underscoring the tremors of shock rippling through them.
"Are you saying," Elder Mars choked, his voice strained, "that Imu-sama has personally invited them… and intends to reveal themselves to those two?" His disbelief hung heavily, yet none could contradict the terrifying possibility Saturn had just put forth.
The others sat frozen, their minds racing, unable to fully comprehend Imu-sama's intentions. Until now, they had assumed the invitation to the Reverie was simply a ploy to assess the Donquixote brothers and, perhaps, test their ambition.
But now, faced with the idea that Imu-sama might openly reveal their presence to the brothers, the Elders finally began to grasp Saturn's earlier unease. This was more than an invitation—it was a gamble, one that could shake the very bedrock of the World Government's authority.
For nearly eight centuries, Imu-sama's existence had been an unbroken secret, guarded by a handful of the world's most powerful leaders. Even among the Celestial Dragons, none were aware of Imu-sama; to them, the Five Elders were the supreme authority, the highest echelon of power. Imu-sama's presence was a shadowy truth, a sacred mystery known only to the most elite few.
And yet, here they were, forced to face the possibility that Imu-sama would willingly expose themselves to two of the most unpredictable, dangerous individuals in the world. The Elders couldn't fathom it—no one in the long, nearly nine-century history of the World Government had ever been granted such a privilege.
"Why?" Elder Warcury's voice broke through, his expression twisted in barely-contained frustration. "What could Imu-sama be thinking?" His words held a hint of challenge, but the glare from Saturn cut him short, leaving the words to die unspoken on his lips. Warcury swallowed hard, reminded once more of their place. Questioning Imu-sama's motives was, after all, blasphemy to them, an act as unthinkable as rebellion.
It was Elder Nusjuro, composed but sharp-eyed, who finally raised the most pressing question.
"You're all missing a critical point." His voice sliced through the tension. "What makes any of us think the Donquixote brothers will accept this invitation? Their hostility toward us is no secret. How do we plan to make them attend?"
A wave of uncertainty swept over the table as the elders exchanged uneasy glances. Nusjuro continued, his tone cold and pragmatic.
"We cannot force them to come. They would never willingly walk into a situation that could easily be a trap. Extending an invitation through Dressrosa might be easy enough, but to actually get them here?" He shook his head.
"If they refuse, it would be a stain on Imu-sama's authority—an open rejection of Imu-sama's will. That alone would be dangerous."
His words left the room in a palpable hush, each Elder processing the enormity of what refusal would mean. The thought of someone, anyone, refusing Imu-sama's direct invitation sent a chill through them. It was an act that could spark open defiance, a ripple of resistance that might shake the foundations of their power.
Saturn leaned back, his eyes narrowed as he considered Nusjuro's question. "That," he said slowly, "is indeed the crux of our challenge. An invitation alone may not suffice to lure them in, and a refusal cannot be tolerated. We need a plan to ensure they come—by whatever means necessary."
Mars tapped his fingers, face grim. "Perhaps we appeal to their sense of pride? We know the Donquixote brothers well enough to understand that they rarely turn down a challenge."
Nusjuro nodded but remained skeptical. "Even so, we must tread carefully. Any overt attempt to manipulate them would set off alarms. They're too clever, too wary, to walk blindly into our hands."
A cold, calculated gleam flickered in Saturn's eyes. "Then we may need to provide something that makes refusal impossible—a reason they cannot ignore, a lure too tantalizing, too critical to their plans. We will need to offer them something they need. Something powerful enough to draw them out, even if they know it's a risk."
Warcury raised a brow, intrigued. "And what might that be, Elder Saturn?"
Saturn paused, his gaze unfathomable. "We will need to think on it. Perhaps there is a vulnerability, a weakness, a desire that we can exploit… something only the World Government could offer them."
Nusjuro's eyes glinted with a rare, sardonic edge as he assessed the room. "So… are we truly considering offering the Donquixote brothers resources, influence, or perhaps even information? Are we really so naive as to think we can bait them with scraps of power? It seems some among us still underestimate the depth of their cunning."
He let his words linger, watching as his fellow Elders digested the pointed criticism. "If we extend an invitation, they'll see right through it. Those brothers are no fools. They've bested Kaido, weathered the political storms of the seas, and continue to consolidate their power right under our noses. Do any of you honestly believe they're ignorant of Imu-sama's existence?"
Nusjuro's voice was lined with both bitterness and grudging respect. "If they even suspect Imu-sama's involvement, they'll sniff out our motive before we've even left the room. And without a shadow of doubt, they'll refuse."
Elder Warcury, indignant, leaned forward. "Are you suggesting they would outright reject Imu-sama's invitation? This isn't some common summons—this is an invitation from the pinnacle of power, from the one who commands the world."
Nusjuro's expression remained stern, unyielding. "You forget, Warcury—they have no reason to revere Imu-sama. They are not bound by loyalty, nor are they constrained by the fear that shackles lesser men."
"As galling as it is to admit, the Donquixote brothers do not bow, not even to our god. They live outside our rules, defy the order of the world we've spent centuries constructing. If they so much as sense our intentions, I guarantee they'll decline—if only to see what chaos it brings."
The room stilled as the weight of Nusjuro's words settled over the Elders. In recent years, they had come to know the extent of the Donquixote brothers' ambition, their ruthlessness, their willingness to dismantle the system they despised piece by piece.
These two were not just opponents—they were, in many ways, the very antithesis of everything the World Government represented. And, frustratingly, they were even craftier than the Elder Stars themselves, slipping through every snare laid for them, challenging and outwitting the World Government's most carefully-laid plans.
Elder Saturn's sigh broke the silence. "Nusjuro is correct. These two brothers have made a habit of upending our expectations. Every move they've made has been calculated to erode our power. They operate with a brand of cunning we are unused to, and, if they even suspect our motives, they will take the most chaotic path possible—if only to watch us scramble."
A somber tension settled over the table. The gravity of the situation was clear, and the Elders each felt the chill of their own limitations. The Donquixote brothers weren't just pirates or revolutionaries; they were a pair of adversaries who had managed to anticipate and dismantle strategies designed by the very architects of the world's order.
This invitation, should it be refused, would be tantamount to an insult to Imu-sama—a challenge to the authority that had ruled the world from the shadows for nearly eight centuries.
"So, what are we to do?" Elder Ju Peter's voice was low, cautious. The frustration in his tone was evident, but they were past the point of easy solutions. Deceit had failed them before; even the most subtle manipulations had been met with equal cunning from the brothers.
Saturn leaned forward, his gaze colder and more calculating than ever. "Deception alone won't work. We must approach this head-on. If we want the Donquixote brothers to walk willingly into the Holy Land, we must appeal to their pride, challenge them openly. One of us will have to go to them directly… walk into the Dragon's Den and issue Imu-sama's command in person."
The Elders stiffened, hearing the unspoken danger in Saturn's words. It was one thing to rule from the safety of the Holy Land, shrouded by centuries of security and power. It was another to step into the territory of the two most volatile and cunning minds in the New World. To show their hand was to risk confrontation; to confront them was to risk everything.
But the decision had been made. If they wanted to ensure the brothers' attendance, they would have to put themselves on the line.
Elder Warcury shifted uneasily, breaking the silence. "You mean to suggest that one of us go there, directly to Dressrosa, and entreat them?"
"Not merely entreat," Saturn clarified, a deadly calm settling into his voice. "We will issue Imu-sama's invitation as a challenge, a summons they cannot refuse without seeming cowardly. They revel in defiance, yes, but their pride may well draw them to us, if the call is issued in person and in full view of their people."
Ju Peter nodded slowly, the gears in his mind turning. "A confrontation of that magnitude… the entire world would watch. An Elder of the World Government, standing in Dressrosa, issuing a direct challenge in the World Government's name. They could not decline without seeming weak."
For the first time in centuries, an Elder would leave the safety of Mary Geoise and set foot in enemy territory. And if they succeeded, the Donquixote brothers would be standing face-to-face with the power that had shaped the world from the shadows.
The stakes were greater than ever—and the Elders knew that, should this gambit fail, it would be an insulting blow that even the Elders might not even be able to walk out unscathed.