The sun torched gently across the waves and painting the deck in a warm, buttery gold.
Smoothie lay reclined on a padded sun lounger, her formidable frame draped in a silk robe that shimmered like ocean foam in the light. Her long, snowy-white hair, an untamed river of silk, was splayed around her shoulders, framing her serene face. A light breeze, smelling of salt and distant blossoms, tousled the hem of her robe, revealing the proud, sun-kissed curve of her swollen belly.
She sighed, a sound of pure, unadulterated bliss. "Best husband ever…"
Nearby, Gunnar stood shirtless by a makeshift wooden counter he'd fashioned from a sea king's ribs. His sculpted torso, a road map of old scars and new power, glistened with a fine sheen of sweat under the tropical sun. His distinctive red-and-white hair was pulled back in a low, messy tail, but a few defiant strands fell playfully across his forehead. With one hand, he steadied a large, polished coconut shell bowl. With the other, he was a blur of motion, squeezing fresh citrus—limes, blood oranges, and sun-lemons—into it with effortless strength.
He had already prepared a tall, frosted glass filled with crushed ice. Delicately, he layered in slices of sun-ripened mango, glistening pomegranate seeds, and sweet banana. After pouring the vibrant, tangy juice over the fruit, he added a sprig of fresh mint, then slid in a long, curled metal straw.
He turned, his black sunglasses perched on his nose, hiding his eyes but not the self-satisfied smirk on his lips. "For you, my queen. Only the best for the mother of my child."
He walked over, his steps silent and sure-footed, and gently handed the glass to her.
Smoothie took a long, slow sip through the straw, her eyes closing in delight. A soft "Mmm… mm!" escaped her lips. "Seriously, Gunnar. The best husband in all the four seas."
Gunnar scratched the back of his head, a faint blush rising on his neck. He chuckled nervously. "Hey, don't say things like that out loud. I'll get shy…"
"You? Shy?" She peered at him from under her long lashes, a deeply amused smile playing on her lips. "The man who faced down Kaido's entire fleet with a grin on his face gets shy over a compliment?"
Before he could retort, a shadow fell over them. **Isshin**, the stoic commander of the Whitebeard Guard, approached from the upper deck. Clad in his crimson samurai armor, his presence was as calm and unyielding as a mountain.
"Commander," he said, his voice a low, respectful rumble. He bowed his head slightly. "A ship has appeared on the horizon."
Gunnar's playful smile vanished as if it had never been there. His entire demeanor shifted, the air around him growing heavy and cold.
"Whose flag?" he asked, his voice instantly dropping into the register of a leader, a predator.
Isshin replied without hesitation, "The Jolly Roger of the Big Mom Pirates. It's the Queen Mama Chanter's escort vessel. Intelligence confirms Charlotte Perospero is aboard. They've brought an army of animated candy soldiers."
Gunnar's sunglasses gleamed in the sunlight, reflecting the vast, empty ocean. He didn't speak for several long moments. His gaze slid to Smoothie, a silent question in his eyes.
She met his look, her expression calm and resolute, and gave a slight, almost imperceptible nod. She trusted him completely.
He turned back to Isshin. "Let them approach. No hostile actions. We strike only if they do. Send a message to Marco and Vista to be on standby, but out of sight. I don't want to spook them into doing something stupid." Then, with a quiet tenderness that was a stark contrast to his commander's voice, he bent down and placed a lingering kiss on Smoothie's forehead. "Watch the sea for me. I'll be back. Time to have a little chat with my esteemed brother-in-law."
As he turned to leave, Smoothie rose slowly and confidently from her lounger. The silk robe fell around her, making her seem even more imposing. "You're not going alone."
Gunnar raised a brow. "You sure about this? You should be resting."
"I'm pregnant, not a porcelain doll, Gunnar," she replied, her voice firm. She placed a hand on her belly. "And that's my brother out there. He needs to see that I'm not his to reclaim."
A slow, proud grin spread across Gunnar's face. "Alright then. Let's go say hello."
---
The deck of the ship was a confectionary nightmare. The railings were twisted licorice, the mast a giant candy cane, and the air smelled sickly sweet. Charlotte Perospero, Big Mom's eldest son, sat smugly on a throne-like chair woven from licorice whips at the ship's center. His signature candy staff rested beside him, shimmering and sticky. To his left, with arms crossed and a thunderous expression, stood Portgas D. Ace, his flames held in check but simmering just beneath the surface. To his right, Isshin stood as firm and silent as a statue, his hand resting on the hilt of his katana.
A second chair—ornate, gilded with spun sugar, and conspicuously vacant—waited beside Perospero's.
They all expected Gunnar to arrive alone.
Instead, two figures approached, crossing the gangplank with an aura of unshakable unity.
Gunnar came first, turning to offer Smoothie a firm, steadying hand as she stepped onto the candy deck. She moved with a regal grace that belied her condition, her gaze sweeping over the scene with cold disdain. Gunnar led her to the empty seat.
"Sit," he said softly, his voice for her alone. "You should be resting."
She nodded, a silent acknowledgment of his care, and sat, her hand instinctively going to her stomach. Gunnar stood directly behind her, placing both hands on the high back of the chair. Sunglasses still on, posture unmoving, he was her shadow, her guardian, ready to strike at the slightest provocation.
Perospero blinked, his perpetual grin faltering for a second. "Well, perorin♪ I didn't expect… the lady herself."
Smoothie's gaze was as cold as a winter sea. "You're not the only one who can show up uninvited to family gatherings."
Perospero's grin returned, though it was now strained. "Mother has missed you terribly. She wants to see you. She's ordered a grand celebration in your honor! Your room in the chateau is untouched. Come back home, sister."
Smoothie's lips tightened into a thin, hard line. "Home? So I can be used for another of her political marriages? Traded like a handful of chocolate coins to some brute from another kingdom?"
Perospero's grin faltered again. "That's not—"
"Don't lie to me, Perospero," she snapped, her voice rising with controlled fury. "You tried to marry me off to enemies of the family twice. If it wasn't for my own strength, I would be someone's broodmare in a foreign land. And now you show up here? With a candy army at your back? Do you take me for a fool?"
Gunnar leaned forward, his voice a low, menacing whisper in Smoothie's ear. His fingers pressed into the candy chair, cracking the hardened sugar. "Say the word," he muttered, "and this entire deck is going to the bottom of the sea."
Perospero held up a sticky hand. "Calm, calm! This is a peaceful visit! Mother has mellowed with age. She simply wants to see her daughter, to meet the man who captured her heart."
Smoothie stood, her immense presence seeming to make the very deck groan. It wasn't just her physical weight, but the sheer force of her will.
"You should leave," she said, her voice dropping to a cold, final tone. "It will be dark soon. It would be a shame if you were caught sailing in unfamiliar waters at night."
Perospero hesitated, his eyes flicking from her defiant face to Gunnar's silent, intimidating form. "You've really changed, Smoothie."
"She's grown," Gunnar answered for her, stepping forward so that he was beside her. The setting sun cast their long shadows over Perospero. "And you can take this message back to Big Mom—Smoothie is no longer her property. She is not a toy. She will not be touched, she will not be moved, she will not be commanded. Unless she wills it."
Perospero tilted his head, his smile turning cruel. "A bold declaration. But your father's health is failing, isn't it? The world whispers about it. If war comes to your doorstep, do you truly think that old man Whitebeard will survive it?"
Gunnar's expression didn't shift, but Ace tensed, a flicker of flame licking at his shoulder. Gunnar leaned in close, his voice a blade of ice.
"If you were not Smoothie's brother, I would have slit your throat before the candy on your lips had a chance to dry. But you should know this—I don't need my father, or my brothers, or the entire Whitebeard fleet to protect her. I will do it with my own two hands."
Perospero stared back, his smug confidence finally cracking under the weight of Gunnar's absolute conviction. With a sharp click of his candy-heeled boots, he turned away.
"Message delivered, perorin♪"
The candy ship turned, its sails of spun sugar catching the wind. The army of candy soldiers melted into pillars of sweet, sticky syrup, flowing back into the ship's structure. The Big Mom Pirates departed without a single blade being drawn.
---
Marine HQ – Sengoku's Office, Later That Day
Fleet Admiral Sengoku stared at the intelligence report on his desk as if it had personally insulted his lineage. His pet goat was nervously chewing on the corner of his desk, sensing the tension.
Vice-Admiral Garp sat across from him, feet kicked up on a pile of important-looking documents, noisily munching on rice crackers. A small mountain of crumbs had already formed on the front of his jacket.
"Whitebeard's… grandson," Sengoku muttered, his voice strained.
Garp blinked, mid-crunch. "Huh? What about him?"
"This is about him!" Sengoku repeated, slapping the paper with the back of his hand. "The child isn't even born yet, and he's already a confirmed grandson of Whitebeard. From Charlotte Smoothie."
"Oh, that's what all the fuss was about," Garp said with a full mouth, waving a cracker dismissively. "I thought someone had finally figured out who fathered that giant baby girl that ugly giant had last year. Bwahahaha!"
Sengoku massaged the bridge of his nose, feeling a migraine bloom behind his eyes. "The father is Gunnar. The brute who bench-pressed a Sea King for a workout and then turned an active volcano into his personal hot tub."
Garp shrugged. "Well, at least she married a guy who's strong. Can't fault the girl for having good taste in men."
Sengoku snapped, his voice echoing in the office. "They are the children of TWO YONKO, Garp! TWO! This isn't a high school romance—this is a power merger of cataclysmic proportions! Do you have any idea what happens when two Yonko bloodlines mix? Do you understand the kind of monster we could be dealing with?!"
Garp smirked, unconcerned. "A baby that can punch through a battleship before it learns how to crawl?"
Sengoku slammed both palms on his desk, making the goat jump. "We need to act! This child could be the catalyst that unifies Whitebeard and Big Mom under a single banner! This is potentially bigger than Roger finding the One Piece! This is bigger than Ace!"
Garp finally swallowed, munching on another cracker thoughtfully. "Pfft, at least Ace had the decency to wait until he was a teenager to make headlines. This kid's already doing better than his uncle, and he's still swimming in belly juice."
"This isn't funny, Garp!"
"I'm not laughing."
"You're smiling!"
"I'm always smiling! It's good for the heart!"
Sengoku gritted his teeth, his jaw aching. "We need to prepare contingency plans. Deployment strategies for the entire Grand Line. Enhanced intelligence gathering on both crews. Counterintelligence operations. Damage control protocols—"
"—And diapers," Garp interrupted, pointing a cracker at him. "You're forgetting the most important part. Definitely diapers. Probably custom-made, in adult size."
Sengoku sighed so hard his neatly trimmed mustache drooped. "Sometimes I genuinely wonder if you are trying to give me a stroke."
Garp stood up, stretching with a loud groan. "Relax, Sengoku, old friend. You'll live longer. Maybe the kid turns out friendly. You know, loves peace, flowers, and slapping Marines in the face with a fist made of lava."
"I'm being serious, you fool!"
"I know you are. That's why you handle all the boring planning." He grinned, already heading for the door. "I'll handle the snack acquisition. All this talk of babies is making me hungry!"
"GARP!!"
The door slammed shut just as Sengoku hurled the crumpled report after him. It bounced harmlessly off the wood.
Sengoku sank into his chair, rubbing his temples. "I swear to the heavens… if that baby is born with a Devil Fruit already active like his Father, I'm retiring and opening a rice cracker stand in the East Blue."