Chapter 129: All Nations!
"Su... Suzaku Sir!"
The voice stuttered, cracking under the weight of an invisible pressure that seemed to vacuum the air out of the plaza.
Morgans, the President of the World Economy News Paper and one of the undisputed emperors of the Underworld, felt his throat go dry. He had interviewed Yonko before. He had negotiated with the World Government. He thrived in chaos. But standing before this young man, the self-proclaimed "News King" felt distinctly like a flightless bird trapped in a tiger's den.
Seeing Suzaku walking straight toward him, Morgans could no longer maintain his facade of calm. His professional mask crumbled.
He forced out a smile—a grotesque, twitching expression that looked uglier than a cry of despair—and stammered, his usual bombastic reporter voice reduced to a pathetic squeak.
"D-Do you have any instructions? I... I am just an insignificant journalist here to attend the BIG MOM Pirates' tea party! Mere observation! Nothing more!"
He subconsciously invoked the name of the Yonko, Big Mom, like a talisman of protection. But the moment the words left his beak, regret washed over him like a bucket of ice water.
Fool! Morgans screamed internally, his eyes darting to the wreckage of the biscuit soldiers nearby. Having witnessed the scene just now, I know better than anyone! This man and his companions do not place the Yonko in their eyes at all! Mentioning Big Mom isn't a shield; it might be an insult!
However, the violent reaction Morgans feared did not come. Suzaku did not show any sign of displeasure. His expression remained terrifyingly placid.
He merely reached out his hand.
Morgans flinched, feathers ruffling, expecting a blow.
Instead, the hand landed softly, very naturally, even affectionately, on his shoulder. Suzaku slung his arm around Morgans as if the two were old drinking buddies who hadn't seen each other in years and were reuniting at a tavern.
"I finally get to meet you, 'News King' Morgans!"
Suzaku's voice was gentle, smiling, warm. But to Morgans, the hand resting on his shoulder felt heavy as a thousand pounds of lead. It was a clamp. A shackle. A silent reminder that his life was currently held in the palm of this young captain's hand.
"Y-Yes, Suzaku Sir! I am Morgans!"
The News King's pride vanished in that instant. He wasn't the manipulator of information; he was as nervous as a newcomer rookie just starting out in the Grand Line, facing a sea king for the first time.
"No need to be so nervous," Suzaku patted his shoulder. Thump. Thump. The sound echoed loudly in Morgans' ears. Suzaku's smile grew even kinder, though his eyes held a depth that made Morgans shiver.
"Speaking of which, I am a loyal reader of yours. Personally, I am very... very supportive of your work ethic."
Suzaku leaned in slightly. The distance between them vanished. Morgans could smell the faint scent of ozone and the sea clinging to the captain. Suzaku whispered in a voice only the two of them could hear—a conspiratorial whisper that carried the weight of a threat.
"Keep it up in the future!"
Write the truth about us. Or else. The subtext hung in the air, sharper than any blade.
After speaking, Suzaku released his hand. He didn't even look back at the completely petrified and bewildered albatross. He simply turned his back, exposing his unparalleled confidence, and waved at his crewmates who were waiting with bored expressions.
"Let's go. We're tired. Time to go back and rest!"
The group walked right through the plaza.
They ignored the mixture of awe, fear, and indescribable emotions in the eyes of the countless ministers and members of the BIG MOM Pirates surrounding them. They walked with the swagger of kings inspecting their own garden, not guests in hostile territory.
Only Morgans was left standing rooted to the spot, drenched in cold sweat that matted his white feathers.
He stood stunned for a long time, the phantom weight of Suzaku's hand still lingering on his shoulder. Slowly, with a trembling wing, he raised his hand to wipe the sweat from his forehead.
"Supportive of my work ethic... keep it up in the future..."
He repeatedly chewed over Suzaku's final words, his reporter's brain trying to dissect the meaning behind the fear.
"What exactly does that mean?" he muttered to the wind, a mix of terror and excitement bubbling in his chest.
The transition from the chaotic plaza to the guest castle provided by the Charlotte Family was jarring. The interior was lavish, decorated with edible furniture and smelling of vanilla and sterile bandages.
Inside one of the spacious rooms turned into a makeshift infirmary, the atmosphere was solemn.
Pedro and Zepo lay on plush beds. Their bodies were wrapped in layers of white gauze, treated by the Musketeers Squad—the medical unit of the Vermillion Wing.
In the original timeline, this would be the place where Zepo died, his lifespan stolen by Big Mom's roulette, and Pedro lost fifty years of his life and an eye. But here, destiny had been rewritten.
Zepo had not sacrificed himself. Pedro had not been drained. They were battered, yes, but they were whole.
After hearing from their comrades—Carrot and the other Musketeers—that the entire Mink Tribe on Zou had already sworn allegiance to Suzaku, the two exchanged a glance.
It was a look of profound understanding. Acknowledgment of a debt that could never be fully repaid.
They struggled out of bed, ignoring the protests of their muscles, and knelt on one knee on the carpeted floor as Suzaku entered the room.
"Lord Suzaku! Thank you for saving our lives! We are willing to offer our bodies and loyalty to you!"
Their voices were weak due to their injuries, rasping in their throats, but the determination and gratitude in their eyes were unwavering. It wasn't just a formal pledge; it was the surrender of their souls to a new master.
Suzaku calmly accepted their allegiance. He didn't rush to help them up; he allowed them the dignity of their vow.
For the current him, this was merely adding two more decent crewmates to the Mink Tribe members already under his command. Although their combined bounty of over 300 million Berries was negligible in the New World—where billions were the standard for top tiers—they could be considered capable fighters in the first half of the Grand Line.
But more importantly, Suzaku valued the nature of the Mink Tribe.
Loyalty. Unbreakable, fierce loyalty.
"Heal up," Suzaku said, his voice calm but authoritative. "Your compatriots on Zou are waiting for you."
The next day.
The sun rose over Totto Land, casting a golden hue over the rivers of juice and mountains of cake.
When Suzaku and his group prepared to leave the castle to experience the local customs of Totto Land before the Tea Party, they opened the heavy chocolate-wood door.
And they were met with a wall.
A familiar, tall figure stood there, blocking the hallway like a mountain.
Charlotte Katakuri.
This great pirate, with a bounty exceeding one billion Berries, the strongest Sweet Commander, and the absolute pillar of the BIG MOM Pirates, was standing ramrod straight outside the door. His arms were crossed, his signature scarf covering his mouth, and his expression was solemn.
He looked like a statue dutifully standing guard.
But Suzaku knew better. Rather than serving as a guide, it was more accurate to say he was acting as a "safety pin."
Katakuri was there because he was afraid. Not for himself, but for his family. He was afraid that these monsters, who had nearly overturned Cake Island yesterday and humiliated Cracker, would cause more trouble within Totto Land if they disagreed with something. He was the dam holding back the flood.
Standing beside the towering Katakuri was a stark contrast—a lion Mink Tribe member wearing a pink suit and sunglasses, looking incredibly anxious.
"Oh!" Nami poked her little head out from behind Suzaku's back, blinking curiously at the mismatched pair. "Are there Mink Tribe members in the BIG MOM Pirates too?"
When Katakuri heard the voice, his body subconsciously tensed for a moment. His Observation Haki flared, sensing the power levels of the people emerging from the room. He quickly composed himself and introduced the person somewhat stiffly.
"This is Pekoms, a combatant in our crew." Katakuri's voice was deep, rumbling like grinding stones. "He heard the news that his Mink Tribe comrades had arrived and insisted on coming to see them."
"I... I sincerely apologize for disturbing you, Lords!"
The lion Mink Tribe member named Pekoms quickly bowed, his sunglasses nearly slipping off his nose. His voice carried a trace of uncontrollable excitement mixed with fear. "Excuse me... are my tribesmen really inside? Is Big Brother Pedro okay?"
Suzaku glanced at him, understanding immediately.
The user of the Turtle-Turtle Fruit, a former member of the Nox Pirates, and Pedro's old subordinate. According to the original timeline, it was due to his desperate plea that Pedro only had fifty years of his lifespan extracted instead of being killed on the spot. He was a man who valued bonds over allegiance.
A loyal fellow.
"Yes, they are inside recovering from injuries," Suzaku raised his chin slightly, gesturing toward the castle interior. "Go in."
"Eh?"
Both Pekoms and Katakuri were momentarily stunned.
Katakuri's eyes widened slightly. He seemingly didn't expect Suzaku to be so accommodating. He had expected arrogance, demands, or dismissal.
"Th-Thank you, Lord Suzaku!" Pekoms was overjoyed once he reacted. He bowed deeply again, tears pricking his eyes, before rushing impatiently into the castle, shouting Pedro's name.
Katakuri also quickly offered his thanks, a rare show of humility from the undefeated man. "Thank you for your generosity, Suzaku Sir."
"No need," Suzaku smiled, his expression meaningful as he locked eyes with the Sweet Commander. "It's not just your crewmate who wants to see his tribesmen; my crewmates will also be happy to see an old acquaintance."
With a single sentence, he subtly reiterated the relationship of subordination between the two sides. He was reminding Katakuri: I value loyalty. Do you?
Katakuri's breathing hitched slightly. He understood the subtext. He could only lower his head and guide the group with increased deference.
"Please, follow me."
Thus, under the guidance of "Gold Medal Guide" Katakuri, a unique one-day tour of Totto Land began.
It was a sensory overload. They saw houses made of biscuits with icing mortar. They saw rivers flowing with thick, purple grape juice. They saw teacups and streetlights that had faces and sang songs in high-pitched, cheerful voices.
"Welcome! Welcome!" the flowers sang.
"Eat me! Eat me!" the donuts cried out.
The entire nation resembled a bizarre and colorful fairy tale world. But to the seasoned warriors of the Vermillion Wing, it felt like a hallucination.
Walking on the soft cheese ground—which gave a slight squish under their boots—Hashirama Senju looked around. His eyes, usually filled with the wisdom of a founder, were now wide with childlike wonder. He looked at the residents—humans, fishmen, long-arms—whose faces were beaming with happy smiles.
"Hmm... what a peaceful country!" Hashirama couldn't help but exclaim, clasping his hands together. "The people here aren't afraid of us foreign pirates at all, and their smiles are truly heartfelt. It reminds me of the dream I had for the village..."
"I have confirmed," Ulquiorra interrupted.
The Espada was following behind, his hands in his pockets, his face a mask of nihilistic indifference. His voice was hollow and flat, cutting through Hashirama's optimism like a scalpel.
"The residents here do not need to perform heavy labor; all strenuous work is handled by the 'Homies' imbued with souls. The resource distribution is efficient."
Ulquiorra pointed a pale finger at a tree that was sweeping the street.
"However, the price they need to pay is surrendering one month of their lifespan every six months. They are purchasing comfort with their very existence."
"Hmph."
Uchiha Madara, walking with his armor clinking softly, crossed his arms. He watched a squad of biscuit soldiers patrol past, his Sharingan spinning slowly as he analyzed the structure of this society.
He snorted disdainfully. "Trading their lifespans for the right to barely survive? It sounds like raising livestock without wills. They are fed, they are sheltered, but they are stripped of the struggle that makes life meaningful."
Madara looked at the smiling citizens with pity and disgust. "What a boring form of rule. This isn't peace, Hashirama. This is a cage with golden bars."
"Hmph, that is incorrect," Albedo immediately retorted upon hearing this.
The Guardian Overseer of Nazarick brushed a lock of dark hair from her face. The look she directed at the residents held the indifference of a deity gazing upon ants.
"For these inferior creatures who live short, meaningless lives regardless, paying only a negligible price allows them to obtain absolute safety and a life of prosperity," Albedo argued, her tone sharp. "Without a ruler like Big Mom, they would die in the chaos of the world. This transaction is clearly a huge gain for these insects! They should be grateful to be ruled."
The air crackled with tension. Hashirama the Idealist, Madara the Cynic, Ulquiorra the Nihilist, and Albedo the Supremacist. Their worldviews were colliding in the middle of a candy street.
Seeing that the two—Madara and Albedo—were about to start their daily debate (which usually escalated into dangerous territory), Suzaku smiled.
He waved his hand, stepping between them to interrupt the rising tension.
"What Albedo says actually makes some sense."
Everyone's gaze focused on him. Even Katakuri slowed his pace, listening intently.
"Compared to the heavy taxes of the World Government and the precarious existence of the outside world where islands are destroyed daily, this place... can truly be considered paradise for ordinary people."
Suzaku looked at the gigantic cream cake castle in the distance, the seat of Big Mom's power, and said leisurely, "After all, typically, no one dares to come to Totto Land and cause trouble for BIG MOM. Her name is the ultimate deterrent. Many people in the North or West Blue would rush to make the trade of giving up a portion of their 'time' in exchange for the 'safety and stability' of their entire family."
The group looked thoughtful. Hashirama nodded slowly, conceding the point. Madara grunted, looking away.
Suzaku suddenly noticed everyone looking at him with searching eyes, as if he were a philosopher king delivering a verdict on society.
He immediately laughed heartily, breaking the serious mood. He shrugged and wore a helpless expression.
"Why are you all looking at me? I didn't come here to cause trouble or solve their sociological problems!"
He pointed at a nearby shop displaying towering pastries.
"They kindly hosted a tea party and invited us to taste the world's finest desserts... we absolutely must eat them while we have the chance! Come on, Nami, I'm hungry!"
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