Totto Land, New World
The great iron-wrought chandeliers above flickered with dim blue flame, casting long shadows over a banquet hall carved from obsidian and steel. Along the walls, crimson banners bearing the sigil of the Bloodsteel Pirates—a skull pierced through with a black blade and encircled by chains—fluttered gently in the ocean breeze that seeped through the high, arching windows.
The hall was silent. Silent, save for one sound. Crunch. Tear. Chew.
Flesh ripped from bone, juices dripping freely onto polished stone floors as Scarlett, the infamous pirate empress and captain of the Bloodsteel Pirates, tore into a massive lamb leg.
Grease glistened on her cheeks as she wiped her mouth with the back of her left arm, while her mechanical right hand, a brutal piece of tech adorned with claw-like fingers and exposed pistons, held the lamb leg like a child's toy.
Seated to her immediate right was Charlotte Katakuri, still and statuesque, his towering frame casting a sharp silhouette. In front of him lay a perfectly seared steak—untouched, unbothered. To Scarlett's left lounged Charlotte Smoothie, swirling a goblet of deep violet wine lazily, her long legs crossed, lips curled in a bemused smirk.
Around the long obsidian table, dozens of cadres of the Bloodsteel Pirates—a terrifying mosaic of hardened mercenaries, bounty hunters, and former marines—ate in measured silence, awaiting their captain's word. But the center of the room belonged to the surviving Charlotte family, now fully integrated into Scarlett's dominion.
After the fall of Big Mom, scattered remnants of her once-mighty family had vanished into the seas, fleeing the chaos. But time had passed. Power called. And one by one, those siblings—lost, broken, vengeful—had returned. Not to rebuild the fallen Totto Land, but to reshape the world under a new banner.
Scarlett didn't even glance as she spoke, her voice roughened with meat and wine:
"What, Katakuri? Is the food not to your liking? Or are you still too vain to bare that ugly maw in front of your siblings?"
The words echoed through the chamber like a blade scraping stone.
Katakuri said nothing. His gaze remained locked forward, unreadable behind the long veil of his scarf. His arms rested over the table, relaxed but unmoving. A few drops of blood from the steak slowly dried on the plate before him.
Smoothie chuckled softly. "She's not wrong, brother. You've always been too noble to just eat and be done with it."
Still, Katakuri offered no response. His silence was not defiance—it was focus. He was waiting.
Waiting for his captain to finish her meal. Waiting for the moment when business would take precedence over blood and bone. Because the world beyond the Iron Citadel was beginning to shift again. And Katakuri, the seer of futures, could already feel the tide turning.
The World Government—bloodied, desperate, but unbroken—was stirring after a year of retreat. And now, their influence was clawing back into the New World, seeking to reclaim lost dominion.
But this time… they would find no mercy.
For unlike the Whitebeard Pirates, who had respected boundaries, or the Donquixote Family, who had contented themselves with isolated islands, the Bloodsteel Pirates knew no borders. Scarlett was not merely an emperor—she was a conqueror.
Her fleet stretched across half the seas—more than Big Mom ever ruled, more than Kaido ever dreamed. Four times her predecessor's domain, and still it grew, devouring islands and nations like fire devours dry grass.
Scarlett didn't aim to play Yonko. She aimed to end them. She sought the Final Island—the legendary Laugh Tale. Not to laugh. Not to follow in Roger's footsteps. But to do what no man, no god, no pirate had done before.
To rule the world.
Katakuri finally spoke, voice calm but cold as glacier ice.
"The seas are moving, Captain. A massive fleet of Marines, led by the Marine Hero himself, has crossed the Red Line and entered the New World. The World Government's warlords have allied to stir chaos across the seas. Even Kaido and his entire force are mobilizing… Something bigger is coming."
Scarlett cracked the lamb bone in half with a single squeeze of her mechanical hand, sucking out the marrow like honey. Then, licking her lips, she leaned back in her chair, eyes glowing with hunger—not for food, but for power.
"Good," she said, grinning. "Let them squirm. Let them march. It only means they're finally scared again." Then she threw the bone to the floor like a discarded crown.
Katakuri couldn't help but frown. He had spent years around powerful figures—Big Mom, Scarlett—and if there was one trait they all shared, it was an ego vast enough to shape the world around them. But Scarlett, for all her arrogance, possessed a rare and dangerous quality: she listened. And that made her even more formidable.
As second-in-command of the Bloodsteel Pirates, Katakuri bore the burden of keeping her grounded. His voice was not just a warning—it was a duty. The fate of his family, of everything they had rebuilt under this new banner, was now tethered to the whims of the Pirate Empress.
"Captain," Katakuri spoke gravely, his single visible eye narrowing. "I think you're underestimating the situation."
Across the lavishly adorned war table, Scarlett reached for another hunk of flame-roasted lamb with her mechanical hand, a smirk tugging at the corner of her lips. The ruby rings on her fingers shimmered under the glow of lanternlight.
"You're being paranoid, Katakuri," she said with a chuckle. "As long as that bastard Whitebeard is squatting near the Red Line, not even Garp can cross into the New World."
But her confidence faltered the moment Katakuri uttered his next words.
"...Whitebeard isn't near the Red Line anymore."
The room froze.
Scarlett slowly let the lamb leg drop onto her plate, her posture shifting from relaxed to razor-focused. Around the long obsidian table, the commanders of the Bloodsteel Pirates turned their eyes toward Katakuri in stunned silence.
"You heard me right," he continued, his voice low and steady. "He moved. And I'll tell you why."
Perospero's lollipop slipped from his fingers, clattering to the ground as his eyes widened.
"No way... Whitebeard wouldn't just move. Not unless—"
"It was the newly appointed Shichibukai," Katakuri interrupted, voice like iron. "He stirred conflict in a kingdom that had recently severed ties with the World Government... and declared open allegiance to Whitebeard."
"The Kingdom of Falmor…" Smoothie whispered, brows furrowed.
"In the past two years, I've redirected the entire Big Mom intelligence network to serve under Bloodsteel," Katakuri explained. "I've confirmed the reports myself. Whitebeard sent three division commanders to stabilize the region."
"And?" Scarlett asked, her voice sharp now.
"They were slaughtered," Katakuri said. "Not just killed—humiliated. Their bodies were strung up, naked, on the kingdom's port walls... and above them, Whitebeard's flag hung in mockery."
The hall erupted.
Kracker's armored gauntlet clenched with a metallic screech, the plates grinding together. "Impossible. Who the hell would dare—?!"
Smoothie seemed much more amused than alarmed, placing her hand gently onto the table while wringing the silver goblet with one hand to extract its essence. "They butchered division commanders like dogs?! That's suicide!"
Perospero's face paled, his voice a shaky whisper. "Even the Celestial Dragons wouldn't dare provoke him like that. Who is this lunatic?"
Scarlett remained silent, her crimson eyes narrowing. Slowly, she leaned back into her throne-like chair, one leg crossing over the other as she tapped a metallic finger against her jaw. A slow, deliberate smile tugged at her lips.
"Now that's someone with balls," she murmured. "To kill Whitebeard's men and shame them in such a way… I want to know who this Shichibukai is."
Her tone was laced with admiration, curiosity, and the faintest hint of danger. Unlike most, Scarlett didn't see such a provocation as madness—she saw it as a challenge.
"His name," Katakuri said, voice heavy, "is Marshall D. Francois. No one knows where he came from. No bounty records, no known origin. He simply appeared. And from what we can gather… something is wrong with him."
A chill swept through the hall. Even seasoned monsters like Smoothie and Kracker felt the weight of those words.
"Anyone who's sailed these seas knows Whitebeard's wrath. No one lays a finger on his sons and lives to speak of it. But this man… he didn't just kill them. He called Whitebeard out in the most brutal way possible."
Scarlett's eyes glazed for a moment, as if a memory tugged at her from the past. She whispered under her breath, almost to herself.
"Could it be him...? No... There's no way. He wouldn't willingly work with the World Government."
She let the thought drift to the back of her mind—for now. There were pieces still missing from the puzzle, but one thing was clear: the world was shifting again. And in the center of that storm, a new player had emerged—one bold enough to draw blood from the sons of Whitebeard and arrogant enough to dare him to retaliate. Scarlett's grin widened.
Katakuri's voice was grave, cutting through the tension hanging in the dining hall.
"And this isn't a coincidence," he said, gesturing toward the sprawling sea-chart marked with red ink. "From the latest updates, Kaido has mobilized nearly all of his military power. He's left Wano—and based on his projected course, he's heading directly for Donquixote Doflamingo's territory."
A murmur rippled through the room.
Scarlett arched a brow, swirling a glass of dark red wine as the implications set in. "He left Wano? That iron fortress?" she asked, genuinely intrigued. "That beast doesn't budge without reason. So... Kaido's made a deal with the World Government?"
Katakuri nodded. "That's the only explanation. No matter how insane he is, Kaido wouldn't leave a stronghold like Wano just to settle a personal vendetta—not in open waters. This has the World Government's fingerprints all over it."
Scarlett leaned back in her throne, tapping her claw-tipped finger against the rim of her goblet. A slow, amused smile curled on her lips.
"Oh? So that little snake's finally grown some backbone," she said, her voice laced with mockery. "To challenge the cunning Donquixote brothers… he must be desperate. But wait—" Her expression sharpened. "That brat… Rosinante—he's not in the New World, is he?"
The table went quiet.
Of all the pirates from the rising generation, there was one name Scarlett never forgot. Donquixote Rosinante. The brat had made an impression on her unlike any other. Their clash had been brief, just a single exchange amidst chaos years ago—but it had told her everything she needed to know. There was something terrifying beneath his calm.
A monster, sleeping in silk.
He had been just a teenager back then, wild-eyed but deliberate. Now, years later, Scarlett could only imagine the weapon he had become. And knowing Kaido's trail of failure, she had little doubt Rosinante was behind it.
Katakuri shook his head, his arms crossed as he recalled the reports. "The last confirmed sighting of Rosinante was in Sabaody… right after he slaughtered a delegation of Celestial Dragons. He vanished immediately after his duel with the Marine Hero—"
"Garp?" Smoothie interrupted.
"Yes," Katakuri nodded. "The outcome of their fight was never made public. But the government's response tells us everything. They've raised his bounty again. Quietly. No fanfare, no posters. Just a silent increase, known only to a few. Which means only one thing—he's alive. And worse—he's moving in the shadows."
A long silence followed. Even Kracker and Perospero had gone still.
Then Scarlett chuckled, low and dangerous. "Still alive… and still a thorn in the side of monsters."
She tilted her head, her crimson eyes gleaming.
"Tell me, Katakuri," she said with a teasing smile, "for someone who killed your mother, you don't seem to carry much hatred for the boy. Curious, isn't it?"
The tension in the room shifted. A cold wind of memory swept across Katakuri's face. But he didn't look away.
"She chose her path," he said, voice firm but not bitter. "And he chose to spare mine."
Scarlett studied him for a long moment, watching the flicker of old guilt and silent understanding behind his steady gaze.
"Interesting…" she whispered. "So he has mercy in him, after all. Or maybe... he just didn't see you as a threat."
The words were bait, sharp as knives—but Katakuri didn't rise to it.
"That's the part I still haven't decided," he replied.
Scarlett laughed—loud, rich, full of fire. Around the table, her commanders exchanged wary glances. They had seen this mood before. She wasn't just amused.
She was intrigued. And intrigued meant dangerous.
"Find out where that brat Rosinante is," she said finally, her tone clipped and clear. "If Kaido's hunting the elder brother, I want eyes on the younger one. That brat may be many things—but stupid is not one of them. If he's hiding, it's for a reason."
She rose from her seat, her cybernetic hand clenching at her side with a hiss of steam.
"And if Kaido and the World Government are both playing chess…" she continued, eyes burning with ambition, "then it's about time the Bloodsteel Pirates tipped the board."
Katakuri rose from his seat, the towering figure casting a long shadow across the obsidian floor. His face was calm, but the steel in his eyes betrayed the weight of his thoughts.
"That is why I believe we need contingency plans," he said, voice even but firm.
He knew his words tread a fine line. Scarlett was not a woman who tolerated hesitation, let alone caution. But Katakuri was no sycophant—he was her sword and her shield, and more than that, her strategist. And if someone didn't speak sense now, they'd be playing right into the World Government's hands.
"I think they're baiting you, Captain. They want you to clash with Garp head-on."
The name alone brought tension to the room like a shifting tide. Forks, spoons, and ladles—each crafted from rare magnetite alloys—trembled on the long banquet table. The flickering candle flames wavered unnaturally, disturbed not by wind, but by the silent hum of magnetic force awakening in the air.
Katakuri continued, unwavering. "With all three Emperors locked into conflicts—Kaido against Doflamingo, Whitebeard drawn away by the death of his commanders—the World Government has a rare opening. I believe they intend to use this chaos to reestablish a foothold in the New World."
He stepped forward, the table's fine silverware still rattling faintly in protest under the unseen pressure of Scarlett's dormant wrath.
"So I suggest we stop expanding recklessly. Consolidate what we've gained. Strengthen our hold, secure our channels. And most importantly…"—he paused, locking eyes with her—"we turn our attention back to what truly matters. The final island. The one prize Roger took that no one else could."
That made her stir.
The temperature in the room dropped like a guillotine's fall. A sharp stillness descended, pressing against every chest in the hall. The flickering lights dimmed under her subtle, building fury. Metal screamed softly as utensils vibrated and twitched on the table, drawn toward the center by an invisible force. Several goblets tipped and rolled, some collapsing to the floor with soft, discordant clangs.
Scarlett hadn't spoken yet. When she finally did, her voice was a whisper—cold and thin, like a blade sliding from its sheath.
"…Are you suggesting that I shouldn't confront the marines? Or is it that you believe I'm not strong enough to defeat Garp?"
Her eyes locked on Katakuri's like a pair of crimson suns behind storm clouds—glorious, furious, eternal.
A high-pitched whine came from her mechanical arm as it whirred softly, her fingers twitching with barely contained energy. That phantom pain still haunted her—the memory of the battle that cost her that limb. The man who had caused it. The hero of the marines. Garp. She hated him with every atom of her being. And yet, she respected him as only a warrior could.
Katakuri met her gaze. He didn't flinch. Didn't cower.
"No, Captain," he said quietly. "I'm not questioning your strength. I've seen it tear apart fleets and shatter fortresses. I know you can go toe-to-toe with Garp...."
He exhaled slowly.
"I'm saying—they know it too. And that's exactly what they want."
The trembling metal settled slightly, Scarlett's wrath momentarily curbed by the soundness of his logic.
"They want us bogged down. While you fight Garp, they'll slip in. And by the time the dust settles, they'll have planted their banners across the New World."
He hesitated. But only for a moment.
"Tell me, Captain—can you truly promise that this confrontation would end swiftly?" he asked.
"Even the greatest warriors bleed when the battle drags on. Our resources—ships, men, influence—they aren't infinite. A prolonged war with the Marines would bleed us dry."
Scarlett didn't answer, but her silence was not disagreement—it was consideration. Katakuri pressed on, voice gaining momentum, conviction solidifying his words.
"Even someone as ruthless and cunning as Doflamingo nearly collapsed under the weight of a World Government offensive. And back then, he had two things going for him: the silent backing of you and Whitebeard... and Garp wasn't leading the charge."
Now the room was still. Even the air seemed to hold its breath.
"This time," he said softly, "it's different. If you hold back Garp—and I, Smoothie, and the rest hold back their vanguard—what then? Can we stop the entire Marine machine from establishing a beachhead here in the New World?"
He shook his head.
"Even if we succeed, it would bring us no gain—only loss. No treasure, no territory, no glory. Just burned ships, dead men, and another endless battle."
Scarlett's grip relaxed slightly on her wineglass, but her expression remained unreadable.
Katakuri stepped forward one final time, his voice lower, more intimate—yet laced with steel.
"So I suggest this: we consolidate the territories we already control. Fortify our defenses. Watch, and wait. Let Kaido and Doflamingo bleed each other dry. Let Whitebeard chase ghosts. Then, when the smoke clears, we strike—for now we just need to make sure that we don't lose too much of our strength during this chaos."
His eyes flashed.
Then a soft, amused breath escaped Scarlett's lips. She leaned back into her throne, her magnetic pressure receding, metalware settling as if exhaling in relief.
"You really are your mother's son…" she said at last, a smirk dancing across her lips. "But far wiser."
"Speaking of which…" Scarlett leaned forward again, the glow of the chandelier above her catching the steel polish of her mechanical hand. "Have you found any trace of the poneglyph that Linlin held?"
Her tone was casual, but the weight behind the words was unmistakable. Scarlett could be many things—bold, arrogant, brash—but never a fool. She understood Katakuri's concerns, and she knew better than to squander chaos without extracting something valuable from it.
If Garp had to wait, then she would make this moment count. The world was cracking—opportunity often lay hidden in the fractures. Katakuri's response was a slow shake of the head.
Beside him, Smoothie's smile faltered. Her shoulders stiffened, and for the first time in the entire meeting, she lowered her head—not out of shame, but silent responsibility. It had been under her watch that Totto Land had been breached. The fact that the poneglyphs had vanished under her command weighed on her like a lead chain.
Scarlett's gaze drifted toward her but didn't linger. She didn't need apologies—only results.
"Heh…" A dry chuckle escaped Scarlett's lips, tinged with cold amusement. "I'm amazed that Linlin—with all her paranoia and cunning—didn't even bother to keep a rubbing of the damn stone."
Her voice dripped with disappointment, though no one dared speak. She didn't blame Big Mom for being careless; she simply didn't expect better from a woman who drowned in her own gluttony and delusions of grandeur.
But Scarlett wasn't one to dwell on others' mistakes. She had made her own empire—brick by bloodstained brick.
"All we know," Katakuri continued, picking up the thread carefully, "is that the one who took it sails an all-black warship... and goes by the name Hinokizu."
The name settled like ash over the room.
Katakuri's expression remained unreadable, but the intensity in his voice deepened. "We pieced that together after we captured several of the pirate crews that looted Totto Land during the collapse. Most had no idea who he was. But a few… the broken ones… spoke of a man cloaked in shadow and smoke. A ship as silent as the grave. No flag. No past. Just the name."
Hinokizu.
Scarlett repeated it under her breath, tasting the syllables on her tongue like a fine wine—or a poison. Her eyes narrowed as her mind searched the depths of her memory.
"Hinokizu…"
A strange name. One that didn't belong to any of the legends from her time. Not from the old generation, nor the upstarts that followed. But something about it lingered… as if the name itself held weight not yet revealed.
Scarlett leaned back slowly, fingers tapping against the armrest of her throne.
"Katakuri, send separate teams to infiltrate Dressrosa, Wano, and Sphinx Island. If possible, I want someone stationed within the archives of Marineford—and even the Holy Land, if we can manage it. Let's take advantage of this chaos and find out if the so-called big shots of the sea hold any information about the Poneglyphs."