The New World.
Whole Cake Island.
This island had a truly peculiar atmosphere. Every single structure across its terrain was pure white and styled like whipped cream. On closer inspection, one would be astonished to discover that the buildings were, in fact, constructed entirely out of cake.
The sky was overcast, with a fine drizzle drifting down from the heavens.
The ceaseless rain washed over the rich scent of cream wafting through the island.
In a corner of Whole Cake Island—
On a field covered with fragrant green grass, the mbers of the Charlotte Family weren’t clad in their usual eccentric garnts. Instead, they wore simple black mourning attire.
Their gazes were downcast. One by one, these black-clad figures stood solemnly in the rain, a stifling heaviness in the air.
Two pale grey gravestones stood before them:
"Charlotte Perospero’s Grave"
"Charlotte Daifuku’s Grave"
Before the markers lay all manner of sweets and fresh flowers offered in mourning.
Tap, tap, tap...
Low, deliberate footsteps rang out from the back of the crowd, mixed with a crisp tallic jingle—the sound of spurred boots striking the earth.
Startled, the crowd instinctively parted to make way.
From within the misting drizzle, a tall figure approached slowly.
He was a young man, perhaps in his twenties. A sharp, murderous aura emanated from him. His eyes were like icy blades—hard, cold, and unyielding.
He had short red hair, long legs, and a lean upper body. His chiseled muscles, bare beneath his open coat, radiated explosive power.
Across his left arm, shoulder, and back stretched pale pink tattoos—most notably a skull-shaped emblem on his bicep. His entire ensemble scread dark industrial nace: black jeans, spurred boots, and a flowing black overcoat that flapped gently in the chilling breeze.
A wide white scarf obscured the lower half of his face.
His boots and coat were still stained with dried, congealed blood and flesh. As he walked, a strong tallic tang of blood seed to perate the very air.
"It’s Katakuri..."
"What’s he doing back? Wasn’t he out suppressing the Edlenko uprising?"
"Apparently it’s over. All 13,000 rebels who opposed Mama’s rule... he slaughtered them all in a single day."
"What...? But weren’t things in a stalemate just before?"
"No clue. But they say... the mont Katakuri heard about Perospero and Daifuku’s deaths... he went on a rampage."
"The blood reek is intense..."
"..."
The mbers of the Big Mom Pirates eyed Charlotte Katakuri with suspicion and unease, their expressions varied, whispers spreading like wildfire.
At this funeral, so smirked. So scoffed. So mourned. So wept.
Though all Charlotte children shared Big Mom’s bloodline, not every sibling mourned the deaths of Perospero and Daifuku.
After all, with so many different fathers among them, true kinship was complicated.
To so of the more peripheral family mbers, their deaths were even a welco developnt.
It ant vacancies had opened among the ministers of Totto Land—and that ant new opportunities for power and influence.
Big Mom herself never cared for such power plays between her children. In fact, she tacitly allowed them.
To her, even her own bloodline was nothing more than a collection of tools and weapons for ruling.
Ignoring all the varied gazes, Katakuri stepped before the two gravestones, lowered himself onto one knee, and gently placed a bouquet of bloodied flowers before them.
"Have we found out who did this?"
His voice was flat, devoid of emotion, but chilling to the bone.
No one answered.
His gaze darkened.
BOOM!!
A wave of overwhelming force erupted from his body, surging outward like a tidal wave.
Conqueror’s Haki!
Every mber of the Big Mom Pirates present trembled. Those with weaker wills collapsed to their knees with a thud, faces pale and panting heavily.
"I asked you—have we found out who did this?"
Katakuri enunciated every word like an ice-cold nail driven straight into the heart.
"N-no... we don’t know..."
"It... it was Mama... she was the one who told us to retrieve the bodies..."
"She’s the only one who knows..."
"But we... we didn’t dare ask..."
One of them answered in a trembling voice.
Katakuri frowned and withdrew his Haki.
The stormy aura dissipated. The strange pressure lifted.
He slowly stood up, sweeping a frigid glance over everyone present.
"For the next three days, all entertainnt across Totto Land will be suspended. We will mourn Perospero and Daifuku."
"And I better not see any of you coveting their territories or ministerial seats. Everything will be decided by Mama."
"Is that clear?"
Without waiting for their response, Katakuri turned and walked away.
His blood-soaked figure soon reached the gates of Cake Castle.
Raising a hand, he stopped the guards from announcing his arrival. His face expressionless, Katakuri looked up at the castle.
Then, with a thud, he dropped heavily to one knee and bowed his head.
"Mama, I want to know—who killed them?"
Silence.
Katakuri bit his lip—then suddenly slamd his forehead hard against the ground.
Crack! The stone split, thin lines spreading outward. Blood dripped steadily from his brow, startling the nearby guards.
"Mama—please tell !"
Still, silence.
A long, crushing silence.
Katakuri could no longer contain the fury boiling inside him.
He had always gotten along with Perospero. Together, they’d maintained Totto Land’s fragile rule.
And Daifuku—he was his true sibling. Sa father. Sa mother.
Their deaths were a brutal blow to Katakuri, who valued blood and kin above all.
Blood vessels burst across his eyes. His gloved fists clenched so tightly his knuckles cracked.
Suddenly, the very world around him shifted.
The ground, the walls, the statues, the lampposts—all lifeless matter began to ripple and twist, transforming into writhing mochi strands, stretching like serpentine tendrils in a chaotic dance.
The guards recoiled in terror. None had ever seen anything like it.
"Mama—please tell !!"
Katakuri raised a crimson gaze and stretched out his hand. At that instant, a tidal wave of mochi surged into the sky, amplified by his erupting Conqueror’s Haki.
But then—
"Mamamama... as expected from my most trusted son. You’ve finally awakened your Devil Fruit!"
A raspy female voice echoed from deep within the castle, laced with undisguised pride.
Yet her tone turned instantly severe.
"But this display... are you thinking of raising a hand against ?"
A wave of Conqueror’s Haki, far more potent than Katakuri’s, ca crashing down. The sheer force rendered the guards unconscious and cracked the very walls of the castle.
Katakuri’s pupils constricted.
That overwhelming pressure smashed into him. With a thud, he dropped to one knee again. His vision blurred, the world fracturing like broken glass.
Yet he gritted his teeth and forced himself upright, spine straight as an iron rod!
"No!!"
His bloodshot eyes flared.
"I only want revenge for Daifuku!"
"The dignity of the Charlotte Family—must never be defiled by outsiders!!"
Abruptly, the crushing aura vanished.
Katakuri’s body sagged with relief. He gasped for breath, drenched in sweat.
Creak...
The great doors of the castle slowly opened.
Big Mom sat upon her throne. Her long legs, clad in pink leather boots, were crossed lazily. One hand rested under her chin as she gazed at Katakuri with a half-smile.
"No... Rogers Darren isn’t an outsider."
Charlotte Linlin’s red lips curled up, her smile seductive and inscrutable.
"He will beco my twenty-seventh husband... which ans—he’ll be your father."
Katakuri froze.
Then his eyes bulged, crimson veins erupting across them.
His fists clenched tighter... and tighter.
---
To be continued...
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