Chapter 122: Arrival at the World!
The colossal steel warship, the Vermillion Wing, sliced through the turbulent waters of the New World like a blade cutting through silk.
Several days had passed since the startling news of "Fire Fist" Ace rejecting the Warlord offer and his bounty skyrocketing to 550 Million Berries had reached the ship. The waves of the New World were treacherous and unpredictable, but aboard this fortress of steel, the atmosphere was surprisingly... domestic.
Or perhaps, "chaotic" was the better word.
On the spacious rear deck, the midday sun beat down mercilessly, reflecting off the vast azure expanse. The salty sea breeze carried the shouts of men and the sound of splashing water.
"Hahahaha! Look at this beauty, Madara! Another one!"
Hashirama Senju's boisterous laughter echoed across the deck, drowning out the roar of the waves.
The God of Shinobi stood with one foot propped up on the ship's railing, his fishing rod bent into a dangerous arc. With a deft flick of his wrist, he hoisted a massive, shimmering tuna from the depths. The fish, easily weighing three hundred pounds, flailed helplessly in the air, its silver scales catching the sunlight like diamonds before slapping onto the deck with a heavy, wet thud.
"That makes... twelve! Twelve for me today!"
Hashirama turned, his face beaming with a smile so bright it was almost blinding. He looked like a child who had just won the lottery.
"How about you, Madara? Any luck yet? Maybe the fish are just shy today?"
A few meters away, the atmosphere was starkly different. It was as if a localized depression had settled over a single spot on the deck.
Uchiha Madara sat on a small, folding wooden stool that looked comically small beneath his armored frame. His back was rigid, straight as a spear. His arms were crossed tightly over his chest, his gloved fingers digging into his biceps.
His eyes, usually filled with the disdain of a god looking down upon mortals, were currently fixed with intense, murderous intent on a single object:
The small red fishing float bobbing lifelessly on the water's surface.
It hadn't moved. Not once. Not for hours.
"Shut up, Hashirama," Madara growled. His voice was low, vibrating with suppressed rage, like the rumble of a volcano moments before eruption.
"But Madara, look! This one has blue stripes! It's really pretty!" Hashirama was completely oblivious to the killing intent radiating from his best friend. He held up the thrashing fish, presenting it to Madara. "You know, Ulquiorra caught a Sea King yesterday. Even Suzaku caught a boot. Why is your bucket still empty? Is it... is it the bait? Or maybe the fish can sense your chakra?"
Crack.
The sound of wood splintering was audible even over the wind. The handle of the high-quality fishing rod in Madara's grip developed a spiderweb fracture.
Madara's face went through a spectrum of colors—from a sickly green to a furious red, and finally settling on a pale, icy white.
He wanted to refute it. He wanted to summon his Susanoo and smash the ocean until the fish floated to the surface out of sheer terror. But his pride... his Uchiha pride would not allow him to cheat in a contest of patience.
"Dignity..." Madara muttered to himself, his teeth grinding audibly. "Where is the dignity...?"
If he acknowledged Hashirama as his rival, then losing to him in fishing was a humiliation. If he acknowledged him as a friend... well, listening to his gloating was even worse torture.
"Hmph! Boring! This is utterly boring!"
Finally, Madara couldn't take it anymore. He stood up abruptly, kicking his pristine, empty bucket across the deck. It clattered loudly, drawing the attention of the nearby Mink Tribe warriors.
"This sea is clearly defective!" Madara declared, his voice dripping with arrogance to cover his embarrassment. "There are no fish here worth my time! You noisy idiot, follow me!"
He turned on his heel, his long black hair whipping in the wind.
"We're going to the training room. Since the fish won't bite, I'll just have to beat you up to calm down!"
"Eh? Sparring?"
Hashirama blinked, then his gloom vanished instantly. He tossed his fishing rod to a waiting Rem—who caught it with the grace of a professional maid—and scrambled after Madara.
"Okay! Let's go! But no Ninjutsu inside the ship, remember? Suzaku got mad last time we broke the wall!"
"Shut up and walk!"
...
High above on the crow's nest, Suzaku watched this scene unfold with a glass of orange juice in his hand. The corners of his mouth twitched, threatening to break into a grin.
"Happy enemies indeed," he murmured.
Seeing the two legends of the Ninja World—men who could reshape maps with a wave of their hands—bickering like kindergarteners was a source of endless entertainment.
Madara, with a dark expression, led the cheerful Hashirama down the spiral staircase, their footsteps fading into the ship's interior.
On the main deck, Nami, Carrot, and the thirty-odd elite Mink Tribe warriors finally exhaled, their shoulders relaxing.
"That was... intense," Nami whispered, wiping a bead of sweat from her forehead. "Even when they're just fishing, the pressure is suffocating."
"That's Mr. Madara for you," Carrot chirped, her ears twitching. "But Mr. Hashirama is so nice! He gave me a carrot yesterday!"
The Minks looked at the empty doorway with a mixture of awe and fear. They could feel it instinctively—the beast-like power dormant within those two men.
Especially the newcomer, Hashirama Senju.
Just moments ago, before dragging Hashirama away, Madara had stopped briefly to introduce him to the crew.
"This is Hashirama Senju. He's a comrade from now on," Madara had said, his voice impatient. "He's a bit slow in the head, so ignore him. And don't bother me."
It was a harsh introduction, one that had nearly petrified Hashirama on the spot. But seeing Hashirama laugh it off and chase after Madara only solidified the strange, unbreakable bond between them in the eyes of the crew.
Suzaku withdrew his gaze, satisfied. He opened his system panel mentally, glancing at Hashirama's stats one more time.
[Subordinate: Hashirama Senju]
[Physique: Legendary (Sage Body)]
[Conqueror's Haki: Peak Tier]
[Bond: Friendly]
"With these two on board," Suzaku thought, taking a sip of his juice, "The New World is going to be very lively."
...
Time flowed onward, carrying the Vermillion Wing deeper into the mysterious waters of the New World.
A few days later, the atmosphere of the ocean underwent a bizarre transformation.
It started with the smell.
Instead of the sharp tang of salt and brine, a sweet, cloying aroma began to drift on the wind. It smelled like baking bread, melting sugar, and fresh strawberries.
Then, the color of the sea changed. The deep azure faded, replaced by swirls of pink and creamy white, turning the ocean into a vast expanse of strawberry milk.
"Mr. Suzaku! Look ahead!"
Carrot's excited voice rang out from the lookout tower. "It's pink! The sea is pink!"
Suzaku walked to the bow, joined by Nami, Akame, and the rest of the crew.
In the distance, an archipelago emerged from the mist. But these were no ordinary islands.
There were towers made of stacked tarts, mountains that looked like giant scoops of ice cream, and forests where the trees were candy canes and the bushes were cotton candy.
It was a scene straight out of a fairy tale, yet there was an undercurrent of something unsettling. The colors were too bright, the sweetness too intense.
"Is that... Cake Island?" Nami asked, gripping the railing. She broke off a piece of a flake drifting in the wind and tasted it. "Sugar? It's snowing sugar?"
"Welcome to Totto Land," Suzaku said, his eyes narrowing slightly. "The territory of the Yonko, Big Mom. A utopia where every race lives together... provided they pay the price."
As the Vermillion Wing approached the main island, a ship sailed out to meet them.
It was a "Tart Ship," designed to look like a giant pastry floating on the water, brightly colored and festive. But the man standing at its bow was anything but festive.
He was a towering figure, leaning against a spear that radiated a cold gleam.
He wore a spiked leather vest that exposed his muscular torso, and a massive, fluffy scarf covered the lower half of his face, hiding his mouth completely. His crimson hair stood up in jagged spikes, and his eyes—sharp, cold, and crimson—scanned the incoming ship with the precision of a hawk.
Charlotte Katakuri.
The second son of the Charlotte Family. The strongest of the Three Sweet Commanders. The man with a bounty of over one billion Berries, and the unbreakable shield of the Big Mom Pirates.
"He's here," Suzaku noted, his smile unwavering.
The Vermillion Wing slowed, docking alongside the Tart Ship. The gangplank lowered with a heavy clank.
Suzaku led his group down. Rem and Ram flanked him, followed by Akame, Nami, and finally, the two heavy hitters—Madara and Hashirama—who had emerged from their training, looking refreshed (and in Madara's case, slightly less grumpy).
Katakuri's gaze immediately locked onto them.
"Mr. Katakuri, thank you for personally leading the way."
Rem stepped forward first, lifting the hem of her maid skirt in a flawless curtsy. Her voice was polite, professional, and utterly calm. "We are honored by the reception."
"You're welcome."
Katakuri nodded slightly. His voice was deep, muffled slightly by the thick scarf, resonating in his chest.
Although his posture appeared relaxed, his mind was working at hypersonic speed. His Observation Haki, honed to the level of Future Sight, was actively scanning every single member of Suzaku's party.
Analysis. Threat Assessment.
His crimson eyes shifted to Akame.
The black-haired girl stood silently, holding a hunk of meat she had retrieved from somewhere. She looked harmless, almost gluttonous. But Katakuri saw the calluses on her hands, the way she positioned herself to draw her blade in a fraction of a second.
The assassin who killed Jack. Fast. Deadly. Her blade carries a curse.
Next, Nami and the others. Navigators, support. Weak combat ability, but high utility.
Then, his gaze landed on the man in the red armor standing slightly behind Suzaku.
Hashirama Senju.
The man was looking around at the candy landscape with wide, curious eyes, pointing at a talking flower and laughing. He looked like a tourist.
"Have you added a newcomer?"
Katakuri asked abruptly, his eyes narrowing.
"Oh? You noticed?" Suzaku chuckled, patting Hashirama on the back. "This is Hashirama. He just joined us."
Katakuri didn't respond immediately. His Haki was screaming at him.
To the naked eye, Hashirama was just a cheerful man. But in Katakuri's vision, this man was a blazing sun of vitality. His life force was so vast, so dense, it felt like standing at the foot of a gigantic, ancient forest that spanned the entire world. It was a power that felt endless, deeply connected to the earth itself.
This man... represents 'Life'.
Then, Katakuri's gaze shifted to the man beside him. The one with long, spiky black hair and crossed arms.
Uchiha Madara.
Madara didn't even look at Katakuri. He was staring at the candy castle in the distance with a look of utter boredom and disdain. But around him, the air felt colder, sharper. If Hashirama was life, this man felt like absolute, calculated destruction. A meteor waiting to fall.
And this one... represents 'Death'.
Katakuri's heart hammered against his ribs, though his face remained stoic.
Monsters. They are all monsters.
Captain Suzaku... where on earth do you find these people?
He realized then that the intelligence reports were woefully inadequate. The Suzaku Pirates were not just an up-and-coming crew; they were a calamity in the making.
"Please follow me," Katakuri said, forcing his voice to remain steady. "Mom is waiting at the Whole Cake Chateau."
He turned and led the way, his back stiff.
The group walked onto the island. The environment of Totto Land was a sensory overload.
The ground was made of compressed biscuits that crunched softly under their boots. The river flowing beside the path bubbled with melon soda. The trees bore donuts instead of fruit, and the flowers... the flowers had faces.
"Welcome~ Welcome~" the flowers sang in high-pitched, eerie voices. "To the land of dreams~"
"Eat me~ Eat me~" a passing sentient pudding wobbled.
"It's... really alive," Nami whispered, clinging to Suzaku's arm, visibly creeped out. "This isn't cute. It's terrifying."
"It's the power of the Soul-Soul Fruit," Suzaku explained casually, looking at a homie that resembled a tea pot. "Big Mom gives fragments of souls to objects to bring them to life. A cruel miracle."
They walked deeper into the island, passing towns made of chocolate and gingerbread. The residents—a mix of humans, long-arms, long-legs, and minks—looked happy, but there was a frantic edge to their smiles, a fear lurking behind their eyes.
Finally, the Whole Cake Chateau loomed over them.
It was a monstrosity of architecture, a castle shaped like a multi-tiered birthday cake, towering hundreds of meters into the sky. It was magnificent, garish, and imposing.
"Mr. Suzaku, I didn't expect you to be so punctual," Katakuri said, stopping at the main gate.
He turned to face them, his crimson eyes locking onto Suzaku.
"You arrived two days earlier than scheduled. Mom's other invited guests—the Emperors of the Underworld—usually don't arrive until tomorrow night. So the castle's guest rooms are mostly empty."
He gestured to the massive doors.
"You may choose any floor you wish to stay in."
Suzaku looked up at the towering cake castle. A playful glint entered his eyes.
If they were here to make a statement, they should start now.
"In that case," Suzaku smiled, his voice relaxed yet carrying an undeniable weight. "Leave the very top floor for us."
The top floor. The area closest to Big Mom's own quarters. The position of highest status.
Behind Katakuri, a group of Charlotte siblings—Perospero, Compote, and Galette—who had been trailing them, gasped audibly.
"The top floor?" Perospero whispered, clutching his candy cane. "That arrogant brat... does he think he's an Emperor?"
They expected Katakuri to refuse. They expected their invincible brother to put this upstart in his place.
But Katakuri didn't blink.
"No problem," Katakuri replied instantly. "I will have the Homies clear it immediately."
He bowed slightly, his gesture polite, almost subservient.
"Having traveled a long way, I'm sure you all are tired. I'll have food and drinks prepared and sent up. Please, rest for a bit first."
The silence that followed was deafening.
Perospero's long tongue hung out of his mouth. Galette's eyes were wide as saucers. Even the Homie guards seemed to freeze.
They simply couldn't believe their eyes.
This was Charlotte Katakuri. The man who was rumored to never lie down, the man who was the embodiment of perfection and strength.
He was acting like... a butler?
A well-trained, accommodating reception butler?
Is this... is this really our older brother?
They looked at Katakuri, then at the smiling Suzaku, and finally at the terrifying figures of Madara and Hashirama standing behind him.
A chill ran down their spines.
They realized, perhaps for the first time, that Katakuri wasn't being polite out of kindness. He was being polite out of caution.
He was treating them not as guests, but as a dormant natural disaster that needed to be kept calm.
"Thank you, Katakuri. You're a good host," Suzaku said, patting Katakuri's shoulder as he walked past him into the castle.
Hashirama followed, waving at the stunned Perospero. "Hello! Nice hat!"
Madara walked past, ignoring them all as if they were air.
As the group disappeared into the castle, Katakuri stood at the entrance, watching their backs. The tension in his shoulders finally released slightly, but his eyes remained dark.
"Brother Perospero," Katakuri said quietly, his voice barely audible.
"K-Katakuri? What was that about?" Perospero stammered. "Why are you—"
"Do not provoke them," Katakuri cut him off, his tone icy. "Inform the others. Under no circumstances are they to provoke the Suzaku Pirates."
"Especially the two men in armor."
Katakuri turned to look at his confused siblings, his crimson eyes glowing with a warning light.
"If those two go on a rampage... even Mom might not be able to stop them easily."
Astonishment and bewilderment surged and grew within the hearts of the Charlotte Family.
The Tea Party hadn't even started, but the storm had already arrived.
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