I'm on Spring Break! Which means I can actually put out a chapter quicker than usual!

Beta-Read by Pure Red Crane

Lesson 19: If Life's A Game, It's Definitely Rigged

This was bad.

"Now get in there, rebel scum!"

Like, really, really bad.

"To think you've been skulking in our glorious city all this time, plotting its ruin! Treacherous rats!"

Like, "eating the wrong curry for lunch and discovering the bathroom's out of toilet paper" level bad.

From his perch before the iron-barred holding cells at the heart of the Flower Capital's Rasetsu District, the towering head of the Oniwabanshu leader spread his arms theatrically.

"Bear witness, citizens!" Fukurokuju bellowed his righteous fury, his voice echoing through the crowded square. "This is the fate of those who defy Orochi-sama and Kaido-sama! Look well upon their pitiful faces!"

Onlookers gathered in uneasy silence, eyes wide. Behind him, the number of captured rebels grew with each passing hour — like rats swept into a trap. Hidden behind a building far behind the growing crowd of worried and scandalized citizens, a small group of Joui rebels spied the proceedings from afar with their spyglasses.

"Damn!" one muttered. "To think so many of our compatriots would be rounded up this swiftly!"

"It's the ankle tattoo," the other replied, voice tight. "The fact that we were using that as a means of identification among ourselves has been turned against us. Lucky we never got ours."

"Yeah, well, luck runs out. At this rate, we'll be joining them soon enough," He turned sharply. "Elizabeth-san! What do we do now?!"

From behind them, the tall, white-costumed figure of the Katsura faction's vice-commander stood motionless.

A comically oversized telescope jutted from Elizabeth's mouth (the Joui members were more than used to such strangeness at this point), trained not on the guards or the crowd, but on three familiar figures slumped at the back of one of the cells: Bepo, Shachi, and Penguin — the bruised, bloodied, but very much alive crewmates of Trafalgar Law.

Elizabeth stared for a moment longer. Then, with a mechanical whir, the telescope retracted. From somewhere within the folds of their costume, Elizabeth produced a placard and held it up.

[There's nothing more we can do at this point. We'll report to Katsura and retreat to Ringo for now. Await further orders.]

The two Joui nodded grimly, vanishing into the alley shadows like ghosts.

Elizabeth didn't follow. Not immediately. They lingered, casting one final look over their shoulder — toward the three fallen pirates who had taken the fall to ensure Elizabeth's escape. That was a debt, and it would be paid. But not today.

"...Yes, I understand. Thank you for your efforts so far. I shall call back with new orders soon."

Katsura's voice was calm, but there was a measured, restrained tension beneath the surface. The smail in his hand gave a soft click and shut its eyes, ending the call.

All around him, the rebel leaders stood in uneasy silence, scattered across the crumbling remains of the mountain village: Kin'emon, Inuarashi, Zenzou, the minks, the Joui patriots. All present. All waiting.

"That was Elizabeth just now," Katsura said, his gaze shifting to each face. "There's no longer any doubt — the plan's been compromised. The enemy has uncovered the meaning behind the flyer... and its link to the ankle tattoos."

"It's turned into a huge mess!" Carrot cried, her voice rising with panic. "What do we do, Inuarashi-sama?!"

Inuarashi's jaw tightened. "Damn it all. And with the Fire Festival just over a week away…"

Zenzou stepped forward, arms crossed. "Long-Nose and I were careful about who we handed those out to back when we both were working undercover in the Capital. We kept the list tight. It didn't leak from just anywhere."

Kin'emon remained silent, glaring down at the flyer in his hand. His grip tightened, the paper crumpling slightly in his palm.

"We chose this coded symbol precisely in case it was intercepted," he said at last. "But now… they've learned nearly everything."

Zenzou turned, eyes flicking between the two leaders. "Kin'emon-san. Katsura-san. What's the play here?"

Kin'emon exhaled through his nose, slowly shaking his head. "...I do not know yet, I'm afraid."

Katsura didn't speak right away. He simply looked at the flyer in Kin'emon's hand, then at the solemn faces around him.

"The enemy has dealt a serious blow to us with this," he said finally. "However, my major concern now is the potential for this issue to spread. With how things are looking in the Flower Capital, it will not be long before our allies in other regions across Wano will be under threat. And after everything that has happened recently, I fear Kuri will be the first place the Bakufu will come to investigate."

A hush fell over the rebel camp. The wind stirred the scorched banners still clinging to the old posts. Somewhere nearby, a shutter banged loosely against the ruins of an abandoned teahouse. Even the animals — minks and steeds alike — stood quiet.

They had risked everything — sacrificed more than most would ever know. And now, standing in the shadow of failure, the question hung unspoken: Was this where it ended?

Kin'emon didn't speak. His eyes lingered on the flyer in his hand, its ink smudged with grime and sweat, the symbol that once promised hope now a mark of betrayal. His fingers tightened until the paper crumpled. Inuarashi turned his gaze to the horizon, to the smudge of gray that was the Flower Capital. Would they fail their lord and his family not once, but twice?

Carrot's ears drooped. She shifted her weight, tail twitching, eyes flicking nervously between the older warriors. "We… we still have people in place, right? There are others who haven't been caught yet."

Zenzou exhaled sharply, arms crossed. "People, yes. A plan? That's another story."

Katsura remained still. His mind raced, but his face betrayed nothing. He studied his comrades — their exhaustion, their silence, their desperation barely veiled beneath stiff backs and clenched jaws. Warriors all, but now…just men and women waiting for the next blow to fall.

The Fire Festival was no longer a ticking clock — it was a blade, and it hung over them all.

"I know what you're thinking," he said finally, voice low but steady. "That this is the end. That we've failed."

A few heads turned toward him.

"But let me remind you," he continued, stepping forward, "this is not the first time we've stood on the edge of ruin. It is not the first time we've been betrayed, outnumbered, or hunted like dogs. And every time, we've endured. Not because of luck. Not because of gods. But because we refused to give in."

He paused, letting that settle.

"They've uncovered our message. Yes. They've broken our code. Fine. Then we'll write a new one. They've scattered our people? Then we become the storm they can't outrun."

Kin'emon finally looked up. His eyes met Katsura's. "...You have something in mind?"

Katsura gave the faintest hint of a smile.

"Not yet. But I will."

And just like that, the silence shifted. The fear remained, but now it had something else beside it — a flicker of movement in the ashes.

Not hope. Not yet. But the shape of it.

The rebel hideout had been reduced to a ruin — walls splintered, doors torn from hinges, the floor littered with broken weapons, bloodstains, and the smoldering remains of whatever hope these insurgents had once clung to. Shinsengumi patrols had cordoned off the street outside, while cleanup squads dragged away the last of the bodies — some twitching, most still.

A handful had chosen to fight to the death. The rest had dropped their blades at the last moment, raising trembling hands in surrender. Those were the unlucky ones.

The Shinsengumi had done their job. Again.

Sougo casually kicked aside a fallen beam with the heel of his boot and nudged a twitching rebel with his scabbard. The man groaned faintly. Still alive.

"Ugh. Should've gone for the neck," Sougo muttered, sighing like he had just misplaced a sock.

Hijikata didn't answer. He stood near the entrance, arms crossed, the cigarette between his lips reduced to a glowing nub. His expression was unreadable as he watched a medic finish tagging one of the corpses.

"You know," Sougo continued, brushing soot off his sleeve, "we've racked up more kills than any two units combined. You'd think someone would've pinned a medal to us by now. Especially considering how much we held back today…"

Hijikata exhaled through his nose, smoke curling into the gray air. "You done?"

"Not yet. I'm one head away from breaking last month's personal best." Sougo tilted his head, expression unreadable. "Wanna help me round off the number?"

Hijikata didn't dignify that with a response. His gaze shifted to a group of officers hauling the captured rebels into chains. Their faces were hollow. Resigned. Already halfway to dead.

"Used to be," Sougo went on, tone casual, "we were doing them a favor. Quick death here, going out with a weapon in hand. Beats getting paraded through Rasetsu in front of half the Capital before they get sold off to some pit mine in Udon."

"New orders from upstairs. Everyone's to be taken alive when possible. Public display. More... impact." Hijikata stated. "They call it deterrence."

"I call it theater. The kind where the lead actors shit themselves before curtain call." Sougo replied. His voice turning quieter — though still with that ever-present edge. "They'll wish they'd died here."

"Yeah." Hijikata's tone was low. "They always do."

Another officer approached, saluting with a stiff gesture. "Vice-Chief! Sweep's nearly done. No sign of additional resistance. Last group's being transferred to central processing."

Hijikata nodded once. "Good. Catalog everybody. Double-check for ankle tattoos. Anyone with the crescent moon goes straight into isolation."

"Yes, sir!" As the officer scurried off, Sougo leaned a little closer.

Sougo scoffed. "We're props now. Red and blue-coated dogs dragging carcasses into the square for a show."

"Don't pretend you care," Hijikata said, voice sharp but tired.

Sougo blinked innocently, putting a hand to his chest. "Who, me? I love public humiliation. It's my second-favorite form of torture after spiking a certain idiot Vice-Chief's mayonnaise with tabasco."

Hijikata turned away, once again refusing to rise to the bait, walking toward the alley exit. "Let's go. We've still got a patrol shift. Capital's getting tighter every damn day."

They stepped out into the narrow street, leaving the wreckage behind.

The Capital had a different kind of silence after a crackdown. Not the stillness of peace — but the kind that settled over a room where someone had just screamed. The streets weren't empty, but the people moved faster, heads lower, conversations hushed. Even the wind seemed like it had been warned to keep its voice down.

Hijikata and Sougo walked the perimeter of the Fourth District, boots clicking against the stone paths and the soft clink of scabbards at their hips. The echo of the earlier raid lingered behind them like smoke on a coat. But Hijikata's mind was elsewhere.

Sougo, of course, noticed immediately.

"You really can't get him out of your head, huh?" he said, voice as flat as ever. The slight tilt of his head, though, gave him away — he was enjoying this.

Hijikata didn't answer. He just kept walking, arms folded inside his coat sleeves.

"I mean, I get it," Sougo continued. "Guy shows up out of nowhere, dukes it out with a Tobi Roppo, makes Queen's men look like they just graduated from academy training — and he does it all while cosplaying as some kind of edgy waiter."

"It's not that," Hijikata muttered.

"Then what is it? Regret? Guilt? Romance?" Sougo clasped his hands together, mock-swooning yet tonally flat. "A forbidden love between two warriors on opposite sides of the law? Gosh, Hijikata-san, I never knew you had such a tragic little heart beating beneath that crusty exterior."

"I'm going to shove you into traffic," Hijikata growled, finally sniping back, though the usual fire he would've had behind it was not present.

They turned a corner, passing a Bakufu checkpoint. A line of citizens waited to be screened — shoulders tight, eyes glued to the ground. None of them looked up as the Shinsengumi passed. It was expected by now.

"The higher-ups are going to rip us a new one if he shows up again," Sougo went on, his voice leveling out. "You let him slip twice. That's two more chances than most people get. So, really — what is it?"

Hijikata shot him a sideways glare.

"Don't look at me like that. First you hesitate when Page One starts stomping around like some kaiju in heat, then you try to arrest the damn chef yourself like an overworked hall monitor with a grudge."

Hijikata's scowl deepened. "Didn't see you catching him either."

"I would've," Sougo said smoothly. "But I wasn't there. And I'm not the one who nearly pulled a sword on Drake after being told to stand down."

Hijikata tensed, jaw flexing at the memory. "He was threatening civilians."

Sougo smirked. "See? You're going soft. Should I start filling out your resignation paperwork? Or just push you down a flight of stairs and save us all some time?"

"I'm just—" Hijikata cut himself off, then said with more steel, "I'm sick of standing by while monsters like that use the people of this country like floor mats. We're the Shinsengumi. We were supposed to protect Wano. Not just make sure the shogun's robes stay clean."

Sougo was quiet for a beat. When he spoke again, his voice had lost its edge. "You think he's part of the Kozuki rebellion? If he is, he's either incredibly brave or incredibly stupid. Might be both." He gave a half-shrug. "Would explain why you're so obsessed."

Hijikata's gaze dropped to the stones beneath their feet. "You ever get the feeling that someone doesn't belong in this world... but they show up anyway? And suddenly, everything starts changing?"

Sougo gave him a sidelong glance. "Is this about him? Or you?"

Hijikata didn't answer.

Sougo didn't push. Not out loud, anyway. But his own thoughts drifted, uninvited, to a green-haired bastard who'd carved a gash in his shoulder before disappearing with Katsura's rebels. The ache in his shoulder hadn't quite gone away.

Still, he would rather swallow a live porcupine than admit he understood Hijikata right now.

Sougo let out a long sigh, rubbing the back of his neck. "You really are losing your edge. And here I thought that whole cursed-sword incident was rock bottom."

Hijikata growled low in his throat, refusing to respond. Tosshi was a topic for another time. Or preferably, never.

They walked on in silence for a few more paces, the checkpoint falling away behind them. The street ahead opened up — quieter now, lined with shuttered stalls and decaying signs. A pair of stray cats scattered into a nearby alley.

Then Hijikata stopped walking. His hands had curled slightly at his sides.

"You think I'm second-guessing?"

Sougo didn't look at him. "I think you've been second-guessing ever since you clashed blades with that silver-haired moron on that rooftop two years ago."

There was a long pause. A sharp inhale. Then: "No," Hijikata said quietly. "I'm not second-guessing. I just want to remember what I'm still fighting to protect."

Sougo's expression flattened, his voice quiet. "You used to know."

"Yeah," Hijikata murmured. "I used to."

They resumed walking, neither one looking at the other. The conversation hung between them like unfinished business.

And then, halfway down the next backstreet, they saw him.

A short, round-headed man crouched beside a trash heap in the mouth of a narrow alley, humming cheerfully to himself as he rifled through a mound of discarded scraps. His robes were threadbare, his hands calloused, and his bandana-tied head bobbed with glee. His voice, however, was unmistakable.

"Oh ho~! Jackpot~! A bit of rice and a daikon? Lady Luck's smiling today!"

Then he turned, eyes bright with a grin wide enough to catch sunlight, his face smudged with dust and carrying a basket containing what appeared to be a half-eaten rice ball and a radish leaf.

"Ahh! Hijikata-san! Okita-san! If it isn't the Shinsengumi's finest! Fancy seeing you two handsome devils here!" he beamed, waving enthusiastically as if greeting old friends. "Lovely weather for digging through trash, isn't it?"

Hijikata sighed, already rubbing the bridge of his nose. "Tonoyasu-san."

Sougo visibly winced. "Oh god. It's one of them."

Tonoyasu, the beloved fool of Ebisu-chō, had a bit of a reputation. Every now and then, he made his way into the Capital under some excuse or another, usually to scavenge what he could and bring it back to his village. Not for himself. For others. That was the kind of man he was.

"None other!" Tonoyasu stood up with a theatrical flourish, brushing crumbs from his robe. "I was just out here doing my civic duty — quality control for the city's dumpsters. Someone's got to make sure the scraps don't go to waste!"

Sougo raised an eyebrow. "How heartwarming. Are you compensated in mold or just public shame?"

"Neither! But I do accept smiles as currency." Tonoyasu pointed at Sougo. "Though yours looks expired. You might want to get that checked."

Sougo leaned slightly toward Hijikata. "Is this guy high?"

"He's from Ebisu," Hijikata muttered. "They're all like this."

Sougo frowned. "I hate it here."

"You know you're not supposed to be in the Capital. Government policy," Hijikata sighed, already rubbing the bridge of his nose. "Anyone from Ebisu caught inside city limits without proper clearance is to be removed."

"Guilty as charged," Tonoyasu said, raising both hands like a criminal caught red-handed — though his grin never faded. "But you see, the stomach makes its own rules. And mine said, 'Go see what the upper districts are throwing away today.'"

Sougo stepped forward and nudged a crate with his foot. "Your stomach also said to crawl into an alley full of broken glass and fish bones?"

Tonoyasu shrugged. "She's a stubborn lady."

Hijikata stepped forward, speaking more directly. "You shouldn't be here. Especially not now."

"Ohhh, right, right, the whole 'crackdown' thing," Tonoyasu nodded solemnly, though his cheer didn't fade. "Yes, yes, I understand completely. No worries at all, my good sirs — I shall accept my punishment with grace!"

Hijikata sighed. "We're not going to punish you."

"Much as I'd enjoy that," Sougo added quickly.

"We're just going to escort you back to the outer district," Hijikata said, shooting Sougo a look from the side. "Peacefully. No questions asked."

Tonoyasu didn't argue. He just nodded with the same cheerfulness as if someone had reminded him the sky was blue.

"Ohhh~! A personal escort? How fancy!" Tonoyasu grinned wider. "Then, by all means, lead on, officers! If it's the two of you gallant fellows, I've no complaints at all~! There's no shame in being shown the door, so long as it's done with a little courtesy, eh?" He gave them a wink.

They began walking. The three of them drew curious glances from the few citizens still milling about. Locals turned to watch — some with disdain, others with pity. Most others were quick to avert their eyes, especially when they saw Tonoyasu's worn clothes and unmistakable smile. Whispers followed them, none of them kind.

Sougo's brow furrowed slightly as a merchant made a show of stepping wide around Tonoyasu, muttering "filth" under his breath.

Sougo clicked his tongue. Hijikata's expression darkened. Neither said anything. The divide was as clear as it was cruel.

Tonoyasu didn't seem to hear. Or he pretended not to. He was too busy waving at everyone — even those who wouldn't meet his eyes. He skipped ahead with the lightness of a child with his hands clasped behind his back, whistling a strange off-key tune that might have been a love song or a drinking ballad, depending on who was listening.

"Strange, isn't it?" he said, looking over his shoulder, grin still plastered across his face. "How quickly people forget their neighbors when someone puts a label on them."

Sougo muttered, "It's a damn good thing you ran into us. Anyone else might've roughed you up just for breathing."

"Haha! Yes, I suppose that's true! If it had been any other patrol, they might've dragged me away by the hair — or worse, pretended not to see me at all. Indifference is a colder blade than cruelty, don't you think~? That's why it pays to be grateful for the small mercies in life!"

For a while, they walked in silence. Then Tonoyasu piped up again, chipper as ever. "Lovely weather today, eh? Crisp, but not biting. Like pickled radish left on the sill too long. Surprises you."

Sougo blinked. "What does that even mean?"

"Just nonsense. Helps the time pass," Tonoyasu said, tilting his head. "You two seem more serious than usual today. Heavy hearts? Bad lunch? Or just a rough week?"

"We just finished a raid," Hijikata replied.

"Ah. Yes. Another day at the office, then." Tonoyasu's eyes, for just a second, seemed sharper. "The city's been groaning under itself lately. Cracks forming. Not just in the walls."

Hijikata scratched the side of his head. "You're not wrong."

"Hmmm," Tonoyasu hummed. Tonoyasu looked over his shoulder, still smiling. "You've got hard eyes, Vice-Chief. But not cruel ones. That's why it's a shame to see them weighed down so heavily."

Hijikata didn't respond. He kept his eyes forward.

Tonoyasu glanced back, walking backward now with perfect balance. "You both don't look too happy with your jobs, y'know? Maybe you need a vacation! Come down to Ebisu sometime — we've got more smiles than teeth!"

Sougo winced. Hijikata nearly stumbled.

Tonoyasu chuckled, clearly proud of his own joke.

After a beat, Hijikata finally spoke. "Orders are orders. Doesn't matter how we feel."

"Mmm. But you weren't born carrying out orders," Tonoyasu said softly. "Somewhere along the way, someone taught you the difference between following and believing. And maybe someone else made you forget."

He wasn't lecturing, just stating a fact — a possibility.

"Duty matters," Tonoyasu went on. "But so does the heart. And sometimes the two don't always hold hands. And when the time comes — and it always comes — you'll have to decide which one gets the final say."

Hijikata didn't answer. But his hands had curled slightly into fists at his sides.

"I'm not judging, of course," Tonoyasu added with a wink. "It's a hell of a thing, choosing. Especially in a place like this. I just talk too much, so feel free to tell me to shut up anytime."

Sougo let out a dry snort. "You talk like you write horoscopes."

"I listen. That's close enough."

They walked in silence after that — a softer silence than before.

They arrived at the Capital's edge just as the noonday sun peaked the tops of the hills. The city gates loomed above them, and beyond them lay the dusty roads and wind-swept paths that led to the hazy sprawl of Ebisu Town.

As they approached the checkpoint, Tonoyasu finally stopped.

"Well, my loyal guards," he said, saluting with two fingers, "this is where I take my leave. You've been kinder than I deserve."

Sougo leaned lazily against the gatepost, arms folded and expression as blank as ever. "Don't mistake not kicking you into the gutter for kindness."

Tonoyasu chuckled. "Then I thank you for your restraint."

Hijikata said nothing, but his eyes flicked once — up, then down — as if memorizing every detail of the man in front of him without realizing it. Finally, as if coming to a decision, Hijikata reached into his coat and pulled out a couple worn ration bars — standard issue for long patrols. Without ceremony, he handed them over.

Tonoyasu blinked, surprised. "Oh? For me? But I couldn't possibly—"

"Just take them."

Then, almost as casually, Sougo reached into his coat and tossed a ration bar toward Tonoyasu, who caught it midair like a child catching candy.

Tonoyasu blinked as if in surprise. "Oh ho! What's this? A feast? Gentlemen, you'll spoil me!" Tonoyasu beamed.

"I'm just sparing you from Hijikata-san's," Sougo said, nodding toward his superior. "It's just going to be mayo-flavored. Even starvation has limits."

"Ho ho, don't underestimate Ebisu appetites! We've got bellies that could survive on shoe leather and prayer!"

Hijikata's expression remained unreadable. "Just… don't come back here. Not for a while, anyways."

Tonoyasu's eyes widened, touched not with hunger, but with gratitude. He cradled the bars in both hands like they were sacred offerings. "I understand. I shall savor each bite like a nobleman," Tonoyasu said, clutching the bars to his chest, cradling them like rare treasures. "Gentlemen… I'm touched. Truly. Who knew the Demonic Vice-Chief and the Sadistic Prince of the Shinsengumi had such tender hearts?"

"Keep talking," Hijikata muttered, "and I'll show you just how demonic I can get."

Still, he didn't move to take the food back. Tonoyasu just laughed. Despite his massive grin never wavering, his expression (or his eyes at least) seemed to change to something softer.

Tonoyasu's eyes softened, not with sadness, but something like understanding. His smile, for once, lost its cartoonish gleam — becoming something smaller, gentler.

"I understand," he said, bowing slightly. "I'll make these last. You have my word."

"You better," Sougo muttered. "You're too annoying to escort twice."

"Ah, of course! One-time-only special. I'll treasure the memory." Tonoyasu laughed again, but this time the laughter was quieter. Warmer. "You know... this is the kindest treatment I've had from someone in uniform in a long time." His voice dropped. "You didn't have to do this. Most wouldn't have. You protected someone no one else would've looked twice at. That means something."

Sougo shifted his weight. Hijikata's eyes flicked to the horizon.

"You may not see it," Tonoyasu continued, "but I do. You're both good men. Real samurai don't need shiny titles or fancy posts. Just the will to protect what matters. And it warms me to know men like you still exist in this country."

Hijikata still said nothing. But his lips pressed together in a line. A hard one.

Tonoyasu bowed again, lower this time. Sincere.

"Thank you," he said softly. "For treating me like a person. That's all any of us really want, isn't it?"

Neither officer responded. But the silence had changed.

Tonoyasu smiled one last time, then turned and walked through the gates. His feet were light, shoulders squared, as if the weight of the world couldn't cling to a man like him, whistling a slightly off-key tune that echoed down the road behind him.

He didn't look back.

The two officers stood in silence for a while. The moment he vanished from view, Sougo let out a sharp breath through his nose.

"'Real samurai', huh? Poor bastard must've been hungrier than I thought." Sougo kicked at the dirt, his tone caught somewhere between mockery and something far more bitter. He paused, and added under his breath, "I haven't felt like a real samurai in years."

Hijikata lit another cigarette, the flame catching with a quiet click. He took a long drag. "Let's move. We're still on duty."

Sougo didn't argue. He fell into step beside him, the two of them heading back into the Capital. "Think we'll see him again?"

Hijikata's cigarette burned quietly between his fingers. "...Let's hope not. At least not for a while now."

Neither of them said it aloud. But they were both thinking it: Maybe the only two real samurai left… were a gorilla and a silver-haired idiot with a perm.

"What the hell did you just say?" Law's voice cut through the air, sharp and unrelenting.

"You heard me," Shinobu snapped back, meeting his glare with one of her own. "Want me to spell it out?"

In the cramped, worn-down house in Ebisu-chō, members of the Straw Hat crew and Wano's rebel faction stood frozen, caught in the crossfire between two furious allies. No one dared to speak. No one, that was, except Sanji, who stepped forward in a valiant — if ill-timed — attempt to play peacekeeper.

"Stop it, you two!" he pleaded, his voice rising above the standoff. "Arguing won't solve anything! We're allies — we have to trust one another!"

"You're the last person who should be talking about trust right now!" Nami snapped.

Granted, this passionate plea might've landed better if his face wasn't currently swollen into the shape of a lumpy dandelion, his words coming out with an unfortunate lisp — courtesy of Nami's swift justice after the bathhouse incident.

"I-I didn't see anything…" Sanji muttered, eyes darting away guiltily.

He absolutely saw everything.

"Yeah, right!" Nami huffed.

Franky sweatdropped. "How does a human face even get punched into that shape?"

Gengai, arms crossed, shrugged. "You got me."

But the levity vanished the moment Shinobu spoke again.

"That little bear and his friends must have talked. They gave everything away!"

"Bepo and the others would die before they said a word. Don't insult my crew!" Law's eyes blazed. He turned sharply, moving for the door. "We'll prove it once we get them back."

"Stop!" Sanji shouted. "That's just what the enemy wants, Traffy!"

Shinobu's eyes narrowed. "Then we silence them. Those who've been captured must be eliminated."

Usopp recoiled in horror. "Waaah! Shinobu-san, that's scary! Way too scary!"

Law stopped dead, his voice dropping to a dangerous whisper. "What did you just say?"

"That's how it works in the world of ninjas!" Shinobu replied coldly.

Her tone was firm, but her body betrayed her. Her hands trembled. And then — tears. Frustration, long-buried, spilled free.

"We're not playing a game here!" she snapped.

Her voice cracked — rage giving way to raw desperation. The room fell silent. Only Sacchan dared to approach, gently placing herself beside her trembling teacher.

"We've waited twenty years… twenty years for this one chance!" Shinobu's voice shook. "We've buried friends, watched hope rot into memory — and now we're finally here. If we fail now… there won't be another chance!"

"Shinobu-sensei…" Sacchan whispered.

"That is enough, Shinobu!" Kanjuro's voice rang out sharp and commanding. All eyes snapped to the kabuki-clad samurai, his voice slicing through the tension like a drawn blade.

Shinobu blinked, voice smaller now. "Kan-sama…"

Kanjuro stepped forward, steady. "Things will not always go the way we wish them to! I understand your frustration — but without the help of these people, whose goals miraculously align with ours, we will never be able to fulfill Oden-sama's wish!"

The room held its breath. Suddenly, the panel door slid open.

"Iyo~!" came a voice far too cheerful for the moment. "Pardon the intrusion, good fellows! I couldn't help but overhear all those passionate voices — music to my ears, truly~!"

The rebels turned to see the short, jolly form of Tonoyasu bouncing into the room with exaggerated cheer and a basket of food scraps.

Nami jumped, startled. "What the—who are you?!"

"Oh my!" Tonoyasu beamed, hands on his cheeks. "A divine vision, surely! Have I stumbled into the home of a goddess?"

Nami blinked before blushing lightly. "My, my~! Please, do come in!"

"Oi." Usopp groaned.

A moment later, Hasegawa stumbled in after him, panting from exertion. "Oi, pops! I told you to give them some space!"

Tonoyasu ignored him entirely. His eyes lit up as they landed on two familiar faces. "Ahh! Shinobu-chan! Kanjuro-kun! It really is you!"

Both turned, startled. "Huh?!"

Grinning, Tonoyasu fumbled inside his robes and produced a worn flyer — the rebellion symbol printed clear as day.

"This little thing's got the Capital in a frenzy," he said, eyes shining. "The whispers are spreading…"

"So tell me," He stepped forward, voice lowering slightly with gravity. "Has the time finally come? Is the great battle at hand?"

The prison yard was chaos incarnate — a swirling mess of pain-filled shouts, raucous cheers, and groaning bodies sprawled across the blood-stained arena floor. The battlefield was a mess of fallen bodies, broken weapons, and shattered egos. The Sumo Inferno was living up to its name.

On one side of the ring, Luffy let loose a barrage of rapid punches, his arms little more than a blur of motion.

"Gomu Gomu no Gatling!" he roared.

The unfortunate Pleasures didn't even have time to scream. One moment they were charging, the next they were airborne — blasted backward in a storm of fists, eyes rolling white as they crashed into a twitching heap of unconscious, still-smiling faces.

At that same moment, on the opposite end of the ring, Gintoki twisted fluidly mid-motion, narrowly avoiding a wild sword slash. His counter was clean and effortless. With one smooth swing, he slashed through the last remaining Waiter, then followed it up with a quick, bored-looking kick that sent the man sprawling out of the ring, landing squarely atop the mound of his bloodied comrades.

Hyogoro, standing somewhere in the middle of it all, could only stare. Speechless. He had known these two were strong, but watching them tear through hordes of enemies like they were clearing out garbage? That was something else entirely.

"We lost again…" one Beast Pirate groaned from the sidelines.

"All of them…" another hissed through clenched teeth. "The Pleasures, the Waiters — all gone!"

Gintoki exhaled through his nose, tossing aside yet another broken weapon and picking up a fresh one — at this point, there were plenty to choose from, choices upon choices scattered all around him. His expression didn't change — just another day in the office for him.

"Simply incredible…" Hyogoro breathed. "You two… You took them all down by yourselves."

"Yeah, yeah. Don't break out the confetti just yet, old-timer." Gintoki rolled his shoulders with a soft crack. His voice was dry as sand. "These were just the weak, faceless scrubs. Now they're gonna start sending the stronger faceless scrubs."

He gave a lazy wave with his free hand.

"That lazy excuse of an author of ours didn't even bother showing the fights with these guys," he added, deadpan. "So now, we're probably gonna have to work for it."

Hyogoro blinked. "...What?"

Before he could begin to unravel that particular existential riddle, a muttered voice drew their attention.

"Still not right…" Luffy said under his breath.

Luffy, standing nearby, didn't celebrate. His hands clenched, his brows furrowed in thought as he threw a few practice jabs into the air. Both Gintoki and Hyogoro turned toward him, watching as he adjusted his stance, throwing another experimental punch — only to shake his head in frustration.

Hyogoro stepped closer, concern etched into his features. "Straw Hat Gentleman… we won. What's troubling you?"

Luffy didn't respond at first. His gaze stayed fixed on his hand.

"Rayleigh knocked that elephant back without touching it," he murmured. "He did it… lighter."

Hyogoro tilted his head. "Rayleigh? Who are you talking about?"

Luffy didn't answer. His mind had already drifted back two years, to the wilds of Rusukaina. The memory flickered behind his eyes: a monstrous beast charging, and Rayleigh standing firm, calm, his hand raised. He recalled the wave of invisible force Rayleigh had used to repel it without ever laying a hand on it.

"Just imagine you're wearing invisible armor."

Luffy stared at his fist, eyes burning with determination, barely registering his confused partners as he tried to recall anything he could to aid his training.

Meanwhile, Queen lounged back on his throne, watching the fight unfold with a satisfied smirk. Seemingly unbothered that half of his men just got obliterated. In fact, he was enjoying himself.

"Muhahaha! Not bad, Straw Hat! Shiroyasha!" he cackled, practically clapping.

Beside him, Babanuki scowled, arms crossed, not amused in the slightest. And Daifugo — well, he looked ready to pop a vein.

"If you'd just let me handle them, this execution would've been over already, Queen-sama!" Daifugo growled.

Queen slurped another mouthful of red bean soup, loud and unapologetic.

"Pwah! And where's the fun in that?!" he said, smacking his lips. "Battles — much like plagues — need time and numbers to be properly exciting!"

Suddenly, his tone shifted. The laughter drained from his voice, leaving only something darker beneath.

"You don't get how the Sumo Inferno works," he said, smiling now in a way that showed teeth, not joy. "They'll lose their spirit little by little… and then they'll die. Miserably."

He leaned forward, resting one massive elbow on his knee, eyes gleaming with amusement.

"'The execution will be done in no time,' you say?" he repeated mockingly. "Tch. Don't be stupid. That's not what we want at all."

Without breaking eye contact, Queen lifted his empty bowl.

"Refill!" he barked.

A nervous Beast Pirate chef rushed forward. "Y-Yes, sir!"

Daifugo, watching in disbelief, sweatdropped. "How many bowls have you had of that stuff?"

Queen looked genuinely offended. "Don't question me! Oshiruko is like oxygen to me! I brought enough to last the whole week — not for sharing though."

The chef handed him the refilled bowl, which Queen proceeded to inhale in record time.

"Mmm," he purred, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. "It's my favorite, after all~."

Back in the ring, Luffy straightened up, stretching his arms, looking ready for more. His grin reignited. "Alright! I wanna practice! Bring it on!"

Queen froze mid-slurp. Then slowly, deliberately, he lowered the bowl and grinned. "Oho? That eager, huh?"

He slammed his massive hands down onto the arms of his throne, the impact echoing through the arena. "Alright then… let's make things more exciting."

He leaned forward and roared, his voice booming: "GIFTERS! YOU'RE UP!"

The crowd exploded with cheers as a new wave of Beast Pirates surged forward — bigger, faster, and far more twisted than the last. Clawed limbs. Fanged grins. Twitching tails and insect-like armor. A mass menagerie of half-human, half-animal warriors. These were no ordinary fodder.

Luffy and Gintoki cracked their knuckles at the same time. They exchanged a brief glance.

Hyogoro stiffened, his eyes widening. "Oh no…" he muttered, his voice tight. "There are two Gifters!"

Sure enough, stepping into the ring came two very familiar faces — the so-called "elite" warriors of Bakura-chō, the same ones who had attacked and kidnapped Tamako. Luffy and Gintoki both tilted their heads in unison, taking a moment to recognize them.

Luffy's eyes narrowed. "They're the ones who kidnapped Tamako, right?"

Gintoki gave a flat nod, furrowing his brow. "Yup. Dumb and Dumber."

Across the ring, Gazelle-Man and Bat-Man puffed up their chests, glaring at the trio with bravado.

"How dare you mess with Holdem-sama and Bakura-chō?!" Gazelle-Man huffed loudly, pointing an accusatory finger as his legs twitched with barely contained energy.

Beside him, Bat-Man bared his fangs with a snarl. "You're gonna pay!"

Gintoki scratched his head with a tired sigh, looking more annoyed than intimidated.

"Oh? That's pretty rich, coming from the guy who was last seen face-down in a crater."

Bat-Man visibly flinched at the painful memory.

Gintoki's smirk turned razor-sharp. "You seem awfully confident things'll turn out different this time. Gotta admit… I respect the commitment to self-delusion."

Bat-Man trembled with fury, wings twitching. "Y-you—!"

"Perfect," Luffy just grinned, cracking his knuckles with audible satisfaction. "They'll make great sparring partners!"

At the edge of the ring, the female referee stepped forward and raised her hand. The crowd hushed in anticipation.

"Lock eyes with your opponents!" she called out. "Ready… GO!"

With a single flap of his wings, Bat-Man took to the air, rising high above the ring as his eyes locked onto Gintoki with seething intensity.

"Payback time!" he screeched as he removed his bow from his shoulder.

Gintoki didn't flinch. In fact, he didn't even raise his sword. He just stared up, expression unreadable.

"Hey," he said casually, "tell me something—"

"What?! I hope you're not planning to beg for mercy already!" Bat-Man snarled, already pulling back his bowstring. Five arrows knocked at once, each one humming with his Haki.

Gintoki tilted his head slightly. "You don't happen to have a girlfriend, do you?"

Bat-Man blinked. "Excuse me?! What the hell are you babbling about?!"

"I'm just concerned," Gintoki replied, voice flat. "About what our last little 'encounter' may have done for your reputation."

Bat-Man's eyebrow twitched. Gintoki smirked, knowing he had hit a nerve.

"It starts with getting blasted into a crater. Next thing you know, your girl's running off with some guy with a widow's peak, and then — bam! — you're getting run through by an old man with his brain exposed." He paused. "Not that I believe you had a girlfriend to begin with, mind you."

A vein popped in Bat-Man's temple. His rage boiled over. "DIE!"

With a furious snap, Bat-Man released the volley. The arrows tore through the air, shrieking like banshees, each one laced with enough Haki to crack stone. The first arrow screamed past Gintoki's cheek, close enough to slice a thin line in the air. It buried itself in the stone behind him, shattering the platform with the force of a cannonball.

The next arrow came fast, but Gintoki moved before it even arrived. Just a step to the side. No panic. No rush. Another arrow whizzed by. Then another. And another. He moved like he already knew where they were going. Like he had all the time in the world. His half-lidded maroon eyes shimmered faintly, his Observation Haki at full play.

He didn't dodge — he drifted. Side step. Shoulder lean. A pivot on one foot. Every movement was minimal, efficient. The arrows flew past him, kicking up wind and stone, but they never touched him. The ground behind him exploded with each miss, but Gintoki stayed upright, relaxed, almost bored.

And through it all, he kept talking.

"You know," he drawled, "this whole archery thing? Really doesn't seem to be working out for you." He ducked to avoid another arrow. "Ever considered baseball instead? You've already got the name for it."

Another dodge.

"Or hey — maybe switch publishers. DC might pick you up. Although..." He side-eyed Bat-Man. "They'd probably sue you to hell and back if you forget the hyphen."

"STOP MOVING AND GET SKEWERED ALREADY!" Bat-Man screeched, now firing with wild abandon. Each shot became more desperate, more unhinged than the last as he tried in vain to wipe the smug smirk off the silver-haired samurai's expression.

"Hey now, I'm actually pretty pissed to see you, too, y'know?" he muttered, the smugness fading from his face. His tone lowered, cool and serious for just a moment. "Don't think I forgot how you tried to use those arrows on Granny."

Blinded by fury, Bat-Man reached for another arrow — but found nothing. His fingers curled around empty space. His quiver was empty. His eyes widened. Panic surged in his chest.

But it was okay — he was airborne. Out of reach of his grounded opponent. No way he could reach him from here…right?

THWIP!

Something grazed his cheek. A thin line of red beaded across his skin.

"H-how—?!" Bat-Man stiffened, head whipping down.

Gintoki smirked up evilly at him, a handful of jagged stone shards lazily bouncing in one hand — shards from the platform, broken apart by Bat-Man's own arrows.

One rolled between his fingers before he tightened his grip, coating it in Armament Haki, turning dull gray into pitch-black.

Before Bat-Man could react, Gintoki hurled the stones, cutting through the air like bullets, their spread wide. Bat-Man raised his own Haki-coated arms to shield his torso, gritting his teeth. He could tank it—

He felt something rip.

His arms blocked the direct hits, but something else was wrong. With horrified realization, Bat-Man glanced at his wings, finding them completely shredded.

"No—NO, NO, NO, NO, NO—!"

Panic flooded his mind. His body tilted awkwardly. Bat-Man plummeted, flailing his completely useless wings. His screech of terror echoed across the stadium, cutting through the crowd's roars.

Mid-fall, Gintoki moved. With a calm inhale, he crouched, rushing forward, snatching up the broken remains of a wooden kanabō from the ground, then leaped — his form blurring through the air as he intercepted Bat-Man's descent.

THWACK!

The club met Bat-Man's face mid-fall, snapping his head back violently. He rocketed toward the ground, the full force of gravity and Gintoki's momentum driving him like a missile. The impact was instantaneous.

BOOM!

Stone cracked. A fresh, bat-shaped crater exploded on the prison floor, eerily similar to the first one.

Gintoki landed lightly on his feet, adjusting his wrist as if he had just finished a casual workout. He twirled the broken club, now splintered beyond use, and slung it over his back with a tired sigh.

"Huh," he muttered, voice dry. "Guess history does repeat itself."

At the edge of the ring, the female Beast Pirate referee raised her hand. "Shiroyasha wins!"

At the same time as Gintoki casually dismantled his opponent on one side of the ring, Luffy's own fight was shaping up to be... a bit noisier.

"Hah!" Gazelle-Man cackled as he blurred across the ring, moving in dizzying arcs. "Just try and catch me, Straw Hat! I'm too fast! Supersonic, baby! You can't even see me!"

He zipped around the ring, blurring with each movement. The onlookers could barely track him, their heads whipping back and forth trying to keep up.

"He's so fast!" one prisoner gasped.

"Straw Hat can't even turn around in time!" another added, eyes wide.

From the sidelines, a grinning guard crossed his arms. "No one's ever been able to dodge him before…"

But Luffy? He didn't even try. His arms hung loosely at his sides. His face was unreadable. Calm. Bored, even. He didn't track the movement. Didn't shift his stance. Didn't lift his head.

He didn't need to.

A subtle flicker passed through Luffy's irises. His Observation Haki sharpened, and suddenly — he wasn't looking at the present anymore.

He was seeing the future.

He saw it — Gazelle-Man, dashing behind him, lining up for the flashiest finishing move he had.

High above the ground, Gazelle-Man kicked off the air, spinning mid-leap. "Beautiful Leg Spin Kick!" he shouted, grinning wide.

Right on cue, in real time, he reappeared behind Luffy — leg already in motion, the blade-like hoof aimed at the side of the pirate's skull.

"Beautiful Leg Spin Kick!"

Luffy raised a single forearm. No words. No wasted movement.

THUD!

The kick landed — but Luffy didn't budge. Not even half a step. Gazelle-Man's eyes went wide, his cocky smile collapsing. "H-huh?!"

"Saw that one comin'," Luffy stated casually, almost amused.

His other hand clenched. Armament Haki coated his fist, dark and gleaming. He grinned. Then — he struck.

BAM!

Luffy's punch slammed into Gazelle-Man's face with a bone-shattering boom. The Gifter's body snapped backward, launching through the air like a rag doll fired from a cannon. His limbs flailed, utterly limp. He hit the far wall with an earth-shattering crash. When the dust cleared, Gazelle-Man was slumped over — unconscious, his eyes rolled back into his skull, nose and teeth shattered.

An instant KO.

"Luffytaro wins!" the referee raised her hand high.

Luffy rolled his shoulder, frowning down at his Haki-coated fist. He flexed his fingers, turning his hand over slowly as if expecting something more. But no matter how many times he tried, it was still just a normal punch.

His brow furrowed deeper. Frustration crept in. He clenched his fist again, mind drifting back to Rayleigh's demonstration — back to that clean, controlled burst of power. That invisible strike. That was what he was after. That was what he needed.

But he hadn't figured it out. Not yet.

"Tch… Still not right," he muttered under his breath.

He exhaled hard, trying to push the irritation down. His time would come — he believed that. But for now, the irritation simmered under the surface as he cracked his knuckles. The fallen Gifters were dragged away as Luffy stretched his arms, visibly annoyed.

"No, no, no!" he shouted suddenly. "This isn't good practice at all!"

He spun around, his finger jabbing toward the throne. "Hey, Balloon! These guys aren't good enough! Don't you have anybody stronger?! You can fight me if you want!"

From the stands, Daifugo gritted his teeth. "That bastard… He's pushing his luck!"

Queen, however, looked positively delighted. Resting his chin in his palm, he grinned lazily.

"Hah… I don't think you quite get the situation yet, Straw Hat. You think this is bad?" He chuckled, voice low and mocking. "You haven't even seen hell yet."

From nearby, Gintoki let out a long, lazy groan, rubbing the back of his head with one hand.

"Oi," he muttered, "I know you said you wanted to train, but remember — you're not the only fighter in this ring. Don't egg them on and make this more annoying for me than it already is, rubber brat."

Luffy crossed his arms, still frowning. "Don't be so lazy! I need to use this chance to train! You should be, too!"

"Nope. Way too much work." Gintoki said flatly, giving a tired shrug. "You know what's worse than fighting? Training. And you know what's worse than training? Getting lectured about training. Especially from a guy with meat for brains."

Luffy clenched his jaw, grinding his teeth in frustration.

Gintoki sighed dramatically and knelt to pick up another discarded sword, tapping it idly against his shoulder.

"Sorry to disappoint, but it's true," he continued. "It's all a pain. You know?" He rolled his head to the side. "Nothing's more painful than… y'know. For example… man, this is a pain." He threw his head back. "Giving an example is a pain."

"How much pain are you in exactly?!" Hyogoro shouted.

Luffy groaned, dragging a hand down his face.

Hyogoro turned toward him again, his voice softening. "That does bring back my original question, however, Straw Hat Gentleman… What is it you're hoping to achieve with all this 'practice,' as you keep calling it?"

Luffy's expression shifted. He slowly raised his hands, staring at them again in thought. When he spoke, his voice was low, almost as if speaking only to himself.

"The first time Rayleigh — my teacher — showed me Haki… it was high-level," he said. He paused, his brow knitting together. "I got reminded of it again back in Bakura-chō when Kiku's boss sent that sumo wrestler flying. It was the same thing."

Hyogoro still looked confused, but Gintoki's gaze sharpened subtly. One brow rose. He didn't say anything — but he was listening now.

Luffy grinned, more determined than ever. "If I can learn to do that…"

His fingers curled into a tight fist. "I can take down Kaido!"

The words landed like a thunderclap. Hyogoro's jaw went slack. He stared at Luffy, unsure if he had heard correctly.

Gintoki, however, reacted differently. He didn't speak. Didn't blink. But his posture changed — his muscles tensed, his grip around his newly claimed sword tightening ever so slightly.

Before either man could respond, Luffy turned again and pointed a finger at Queen.

"Oi, Balloon!" he called out, louder now. "Did ya hear me?! I need stronger guys! Bring it on!"

He stomped across the ring, fists clenched, spirit burning like wildfire in his chest. Behind him, the two samurai stood frozen, the echoes of his words still lingering.

"I–Is Straw Hat being serious?" Hyogoro asked softly.

Gintoki didn't respond right away. He exhaled, eyes still locked on Luffy's back. When he finally spoke, his voice was lower. Sharper.

"If he was joking," he said, "I'm not laughing."

Hyogoro turned to him, startled by the shift in tone. The carefree mask Gintoki usually wore was gone — replaced by something harder, colder. His face was unreadable. Distant. But the trouble in his eyes was plain. Without another word, Gintoki turned and walked to the other side of the ring, surveying the debris-strewn battlefield with quiet steps and heavy shoulders.

"Yeah," he murmured to himself. "Just a bad joke."

Hyogoro heard it — though it clearly wasn't meant for him. He watched the silver-haired swordsman move, unease creeping into his bones.

"…This can't be good," he muttered.

Next chapter will be fun...