The scent of the ink reminded me of smugness. It worked out well since I'm slopping it everywhere on Big Mom's nice paper. My handwriting? Like a wobbly kraken walked across the sheet. Still, rules are rules.
"Dear Charlotte 'Please Don't Eat Me' Linlin," I began, after all, when writing to a human storm cloud, why not just have some fun with it? Perona popped her head out from behind, her pale features creasing ever so slightly into a scowl. "You're terrible at diplomacy," she informed me, like I didn't already know.
Shyarly ever the "one trying to keep us alive—or at least out of trouble," took the pen from me quickly. 'I'll do this,' she said. 'Before you set off World War Cake.' She put wrote the letter way more pleasant then how I had it. She used more acceptable language about being 'thankful' and 'kind offers,' and other boring stuff. It meant Big Mom's crew was never going to chase me now.
I rolled my eyes. "You know Big Mom's definition of warm welcome includes wedding cake with our faces on it, right? After the part where we say until death do us part, preferably."
The letter was left nonetheless, with one of those weird homies who appeared to be chosen from a child's bad dream. The note drifted off toward the skyline with the homie as I watched, almost certain it would go up in flames.
"So," I asked, clapping my hands together. "Who's betting on how long until this goes catastrophically wrong?" Perona was upside down, as usual, her dress impossibly suspended by gravity. "I say ten minutes after we dock."
Shyarly sighed. "You two are insufferable."
The Thousand Calamities snuck into Totto Land's harbour silently and quickly—one minute there was nothing, and then the huge vessel appeared where it shouldn't be. The sailors on land stood like statues, pretending to be interested, but with their own brand of weirdness going on. Katakuri was there too, slouched against something, looking like he'd rather be anywhere but there. Smoothie caught me staring with this sharp look, like people give to flies trapped in jars. Pudding laughed spasmodically, when she's trying too hard.
Big Mom was leaning on the pier, sitting on what seemed like a throne that could topple into icing at any minute. "MAMA-MAMA-MAMA!" The laugh rattled my sides. Big Mom's grin was wide and sharp as she said, "Doomsday! You finally decided to grace us with your presence!"
I got off the boat. Honestly, I more or less fell off, given my stature—so much so that the pier creaked from my weight. Perona drifted behind me like a smug cloud, while Shyarly got off with ease, accustomed to traversing wet floors.
"Grace" is a very powerful word," I whispered to myself, trying to resist the urge to crack a wisecrack regarding pounds—and pride.
The kids from Charlotte lowered their heads one lower than the next, each one more excited than the last, but Katakuri was walking as if he were attending his funeral.
Smoothie? She straightened up suddenly, like she'd just collected the payoff from a behind-closed-doors deal. Pudding fluttered her lashes deliberately, as if she knew the significance of the moment.
Big Mom was smiling too much, her teeth were so big that even a shark would be intimidated. "I've heard so much about you, Doomsday," she deliberately purred my name with sugary sweetness that seemed to have a poisonous taste to it.
Behind her, a look was exchanged between the brothers, some with cold intent, some with uncertainty, all of them knowing things were never going to be the same after Marineford. Yes, Marines were present, but they were more like glorified Watchmen, scrambling to retain control over the world they already barely held. And here was I, firmly planted in the center of Totto Land, with a legacy like a foolish overcoat that no one asked for.
"You're laying it on thick," I said, waving away the compliment as if it were nothing - easy when you can blow the town away before lunch. The pier creaked beneath my step, not a warning but almost a gentle prod. "Though I'd argue 'Doomsday' is a bit melodramatic for a guy who just wanted brunch without being shot at."
Katakuri's eye twitched at hearing this, his lips pinching as if he'd just bitten down on something sour. Meanwhile, Smoothie gripped her sword handle tightly not anger so much in expectation of fireworks. There was the aroma lingering in the air: sweet frosting and nerves, so thick they were almost chewable.
Big Mom laughed; the booming sound came crashing down on us like the arrival of bad luck. "Then let's not waste time!" she exclaimed, slapping on each palm to make a cracking sound, which sent one of the homies flinching so badly it nearly lost its face. "There's tea and cake waiting—unless you'd rather discuss business first?"
I grinned. "I want to see the sights. Heard you have islands of cotton candy that won't rot your teeth, which is a scientific miracle, no less."
Beside me, Perona grumbled about priorities but I continued to move ahead of the throne, ignoring the way the Charlotte siblings separated, quiet and awkward.
The first island looked just like everyone had said - cotton candy everywhere, and it was wafting with the wind like sugar waves. I crouched down low, as low as a giant 25-foot hydra could go, and scooped up a handful. As soon as my hand touched it, the space closed up again, like it was healing itself with magic fluff.
Beside me, Smoothie slumped against her blade, lids half-closed, while I sampled a striped candy cane tree trunk. "It's not poisoned," she drawled, "unless you count the sheer violence it does to your blood sugar."
"No wonder your family is insane," I mused, wiping my sticky fingers on my coat. "You're all in a perpetual sugar coma."
The next island was worse—or better, if you enjoyed food-based structures. Gingerbread houses and licorice paths and lights dripping with gooey caramel whenever you nudged them. I kicked a wall out of boredom and it wiggled like Jell-O before falling to sugary doom. Behind me, there was a yelp from Pudding.
"Careful," Smoothie whispered, low enough only I heard it. "This thing took forever to make," She didn't sound upset though—more like she'd been waiting for someone to do it. She gave me a gentle prod in the arm, as if by accident, pushing me forward. Subtlety wasn't exactly her strong suit, but then again, neither was mine.
The third island consisted entirely of chocolate, dark, milk, white shades intertwining like streams that smelled like rotting memory and rotting teeth. Beside me, Pudding suddenly materialized with her third eye flicking off-beat like a drum solo that made my skin itch. She beamed, rubbing her hands furiously with the zeal of a kid discovering candy for the first time. Which was appropriate, I guess, considering that's where she was. "Cacao cultivates these beans," she exclaimed happily. "He pours his tears right onto the ground - isn't that romantic?
I glanced at Smoothie, who merely shrugged, like, whatever, not my concern, that's just how she is. Pudding smiled wider, showing some teeth that looked a little too sharp. "You wanna see the groves? Or…" Her voice lowered, her head tilting so her curls bobbed up and down. "How about something a little more tempting?"
This deal came at me like a brick - and suddenly, it was either her or Smoothie. Pudding just gazed at me, agog, buzzing with that crazy spirit telling me that she'd erase the whole conversation from my head if only I'd just say no. The thing is, her Devil Fruit wasn't able to withstand someone with serious Haki, someone strong enough to shake the Red Line itself. And her real use—those Poneglyph-reading skills—was irrelevant to me because I'd already watched One Piece like it was my religion in another life.
So, here comes the thing. Pick the girl who comes off like the human guidebook for backstabbing, or pick Smoothie, who looked at me like she was about to take me apart piece by piece, just so she could figure me out, and somehow, it was kind of sexy. Don't ask me how. Pudding clung to my shirt cuff, her hand covered in melted cocoa, and I nearly jerked back like I was dealing with some aggressive shore bird.
I messed up her straight-cut bangs with my sticky fingers, smiling at her confused reflection, dazed like a cat thrown into a room full of firecrackers. "You're sweet, Cupcake, seriously, weirdly charming in that haunted doll kind of way but Smoothie and I are going to open our own bakery."
The instant her face crumpled, most men would have folded, but I had watched too much anime to overlook a Yandere performance when it's right in front of me. That soft laughter Smoothie was letting out right next to me? Totally made this idea worthwhile.
"Chose the long-legged security blanket over the living memory card, huh?" Smoothie snickered, leaning on her sword as if she were already celebrating her win. The brown river flowing by us murmured bad news, while Pudding's grin went silent and deadly. "Smart boy," she communicated, touching my chin with her thumb—before flicking and devouring the icing off with the delicacy of a cat who'd gotten her paws on every birdcage ever constructed.
And behind me, Pudding's laughter rose way up way too sharp to be right. "Ohhh, that's fine," she sang, her hand jerking toward her third eye, that funny spasm fluttering over her face like a bad turn on screen. "You two have fun with your bakery." The last word was slurred, as if she were gnashing her teeth hard while growling. Perona was right behind me, candy pop jammed into her cheek, muttering "Yikes" into the heat.
But Smoothie waved it all away, reaching instead for my coat and pulling me toward herself until we almost touched foreheads. "You do realize what you're getting into, right?" She asked. And on her breath was spiced rum and something harder, meaner - it seemed to fire my synapses. "Mama doesn't let go of her toys without breaking a few bones first." She said in a firm whisper.
Smiling at this, I pushed one stray end of hair back behind her ear, leaving my hand resting just a little bit longer than necessary on the slight tremble she'd never admit. "Good thing I'm indestructible." I told her this with conviction, with ease—yes, healing quickly is helpful, but knowing how Big Mom has parties? More chance they'll chop your head off with mint-edged blades.
Smoothie's breath was warm on my skin, trembling with a quiet nervousness just before she leaned against my palm, slow and labored like some ancient vessel making its way into dock. "You're impossible," she muttered but those eyes of hers drifted shut anyway, relaxing against her will.
The swordswoman who'd carved her way through the New World without breaking a sweat was melting under a fucking head pat, and wasn't that the most One Piece thing imaginable?
"Husband," she tested the word like it was a new sword stance, rolling it around her mouth with deliberate slowness. Hus-band, husss-band, hus-band. Her thumb trailed by my knuckles near her face, the rough patches pulling at my skin.
"You're enjoying this," I said, noting how her eyes widened - subtly enough for barely a tell, but a tell nonetheless. Smoothie had lived each day as Big Mom's weapon - cold, fast, used and discarded when it's done - but now she's recreating herself with the same ruthless intent.
The realization hit me like a poorly-aimed cannonball: she wasn't just playing along. She'd already won, and the wedding was just the victory lap.
***
Thousand Sunny groaned, weighed down by an oppressive quiet - a strange sight for a ship that was usually pulsating with laughter and the clangs of Sanji's pots and pans. However, the cries of the seagulls lingered in the distance, accompanied by the steady rhythm of Luffy's tapping footsteps on the wood. He sat perched, as always, on the figurehead, legs crossed in front of him, his cap tipped low to conceal his eyes that hadn't shone in since Marineford.
"It's too convenient," Robin said, voice soft but with a sting like a slap. Her fingers tightened around her teacup.
"Lucci's attack. The timing of Teach's interference. Doomsday materializing out of nowhere to interrupt the final blow." She didn't need to give an explanation, as the pieces had been clicking together since Marineford, the manipulation of one with strings pulling from the shadows.
Zoro sank against the mast, folded his hands, and his scowl deepened with each passing second. However, when he spoke, his tone was low. "You're trying to say that damn hydra bastard set all this up?" His grip on Wado ichimonji was crushing the handle. While he was quiet, his anger seeped out - "He used Lucci as a tool just so Luffy would come close to death… and then plays hero?" Haki waves radiated from Zoro, causing the deck planks to creak with the immense pressure.
Brook's cup rattled on the plate despite having not taken any sip. "Yohoho… it is rather theatrical, isn't it?" Brook now looked up at Luffy, who was frozen in place. "A villain creates a crisis only to solve it—classic tyrant playbook, really."
The usual cheerful atmosphere surrounding the skeleton had vanished to make way for something cold and sharp. Even Franky, who'd been welding a new modification to the ship's railing, paused, his goggles reflecting the grim set of Nami's mouth.
Luffy's hands were clenched around his legs, gripping them tightly, ripping at the fabric by accident. But his words oozed from his lips slowly, with no trace of grin, only hard fact. "I'm gonna punch him," he said, easy-like. "Right in his stupid Hydra face." A snot came from Zoro then, harsh and clean as steel striking stone, but no grin broke his face. He didn't have to.
Nami slammed the map shut, making it crack through the silence. "We don't even know where he is," She gripped a scroll in one hand, pounding it against her palm as if scolding a child. "Tracking down a 25-foot-tall narcissist with a god complex should be easy, but the New World's basically his playground now." The unspoken and we're already late was left unsaid. Punk Hazard's poisonous gas wouldn't solve itself. And every minute that passed made the madman Ceasar Clown's chuckle ominously real.
Luffy's sandaled feet dragged along Sunny's bow as he turned to look at the crew, his shadow cutting unevenly across the wood. "Doesn't matter," he murmered - though the calm in his voice made Usopp's hand flick toward his sling. "We go to Punk Hazard first. Then we'll find him."
How he said it - then we'll find him - it didn't sound like a plan, it sounded like something crazily, irrevocably wild, like waves freezing in mid-crash. Not because Luffy had given his word, but because once he gives a promise, it's inevitable.
Sanji blew out a ring of smoke, his eyes tracking its curl through the salty air. "Priorities in order, I see?" Ash slid back along the rail as he looked sidelong – Zoro's grip on his blades was tight, but not angry, more like the prelude to thunder.
"Punk Hazard's a detour. Doomsday's the main course." The cook grinned with his whole set of teeth, a look that often heralded someone's rib cage reorganization. "Just means we'll enjoy it even more with anticipation."
Chopper's hooves clicked onto the deck as he edged closer to Robin, hackles up despite the hot weather. "You think he knew we'd choose Punk Hazard first?"
The reindeer's voice trailed off to almost inaudible level, but Robin did freeze for just a second before resuming stirring her tea. Of course Doomsday knew. Like in Marineford, all just part of the same game with strings guiding fools to their positions. Doomsday had probably planned every step they would take, including every chip that would be tossed into the bag by Sanji.
Just as that second passed, a seagull dropped its crap right on the mast - splat, right between Zoro's eyes. He didn't even blink. "Fuckin' metaphor" he growled, swatting it away with his belly cloth. Nami choked down a surprised snort that verged uncomfortably close to sobbing, and Usopp began waving his arms frantically at the pesky seagull.
However, Luffy wasn't interested in bird fights. Even if the gull dropped a lighted flare, nothing would change him - Sabo's face passed through his eyelids with each blink, real, smiling, picture-of-hell-yet-breathing.
A thought smacked him hard - like a Red Hawk direct to the stomach. Back at Marineford, Sabo was right there, swinging this stupid pipe thingy like they were just a gang of rowdy kids causing chaos at the streets of Goa again, while Luffy? Luffy was lying flat on his back with barely enough strength to breathe, and no way to have any kind of meaningful conversation.
The mast groaned under his grip, splinters digging into his palms hard enough to draw blood. It wasn't just about honor—honor was some shit Zoro cared about, some samurai ideal that didn't fit right in Luffy's brainpan.
This was simpler: Doomsday distorted his struggle into entertainment, making all the fighters who struggled for him puppets in his play. Shanks' bloodied rib, Dragon's backstage trickery, Marco's torn wings plummeting to the ground - each and every one was staged in a twisted play in which the hydra freak was the star. But the best part? Everyone applauded for it.
A drop of blood fell to the floor, and then Franky materialized, using his mechanical hands to ease Luffy's grasp without squishing anything. "Take it easy, bro," Franky rumbled, but Luffy didn't flinch; it was the laughter of Sabo in his mind - no pompous revolutionary rhetoric from the newsprints, just the coarse, snorting laughter of a brat who'd torched a rich man's hairpiece to watch it go up in smoke.