The moon, a pale sliver in a sky dotted with cream-puff clouds, cast long, distorted shadows across Peanut Town. The air, thick with the smell of roasted nuts and caramel, was deceptively peaceful. The town's inhabitants—a bizarre collection of humans, Minks, and animated peanut-brittle golems—were mostly indoors, their windows glowing with warm, inviting light.
Gunnar, Ace, and Isshin stood cloaked in the shadows of a large marzipan statue.
"Alright," Gunnar whispered, his voice a low growl that was barely audible over the chirping of candied crickets. "We split up. This place is too quiet. Something's going on. Ace, you take the east side, the merchant district. See if you can overhear anything about unusual activity at the chateau. Isshin, you take the west, near the port. Watch the ships. See who's coming and going. I'll take the central square. We're looking for any intel. A whisper, a rumor, anything about where they might be keeping a high-value 'guest'. We meet back here in two hours. Do not engage. Do not be seen."
Ace gave a mock salute. "You got it, boss. 'Do not engage.' My specialty." With a smirk, he melted into the shadows, his movements surprisingly stealthy for a man who was essentially a walking bonfire.
Isshin simply nodded, his form already gone, a phantom swallowed by the night.
Gunnar pulled his hood lower and strode into the town square, his presence a heavy weight in the cloyingly sweet air.
---
Ace moved through the merchant district like a wraith. The streets were lined with shops selling everything from peanut-butter potions to candied-nut armor. He kept to the rooftops, his Observation Haki scanning the area. He heard snippets of conversation—gossip about ingredient shortages, complaints about the latest tea party tax—but nothing about Smoothie.
His frustration grew. This sneaking around was grating on his nerves. He was a creature of fire and action, not shadows and whispers. As he leapt from a nougat-topped roof to a gingerbread awning, he landed with a soft thud in a darkened alley.
And came face-to-face with a lion.
Or rather, a lion Mink, clad in a sharp suit and sunglasses, flanked by two large, armed guards. They were loading crates filled with sacks of candy onto a large wagon.
It was Pekoms.
Pekoms froze, his sunglasses slipping down his nose. His eyes widened in disbelief as he recognized the freckled face under the hood. "You… You're… Fire Fist Ace!"
Ace's heart sank. So much for 'do not engage'. "You must be mistaken," he said, his voice low.
"Don't play dumb with me!" Pekoms roared, his voice echoing in the confined alley. "I never forget the face of one of Pops' commanders! What are you doing in Totto Land?!"
The two guards immediately drew their oversized candy-cane rifles.
Ace sighed, a plume of smoke escaping his lips. "Well, I tried."
He didn't wait for them to shoot. He exploded into action. "**Fire Gun!**" He shot two quick blasts of fire from his fingertips, melting the rifles into sugary slag before the guards could even pull the triggers.
"Gao! You brat!" Pekoms lunged, his fists crackling with Electro.
The alley became a whirlwind of fire and lightning. Ace, holding back the full extent of his power to avoid leveling the district, was a blur of evasive maneuvers and targeted strikes. He ducked under a powerful swipe from Pekoms, a move that would have taken his head off, and slammed a fiery elbow into the Mink's gut. Pekoms staggered back, coughing, but retaliated with a lightning-fast kick.
The fight was loud, brutal, and anything but subtle. Sentient gingerbread men screamed and fled, their cookie-cutter faces masks of terror. The ground was scorched, and the air smelled of burnt sugar and ozone. Ace knew he was drawing attention, breaking every rule Gunnar had set. He needed to end this, now.
He saw an opening. As Pekoms lunged again, Ace dropped low and unleashed a powerful **Flame Commandment**, a pillar of fire that erupted directly under the lion Mink, sending him flying into the air. Ace followed, grabbing him in a fiery hold.
"It's over!" Ace grunted, trying to subdue him.
"Not yet, rookie!" Pekoms roared, unleashing a burst of Electro at point-blank range.
The shock coursed through Ace, forcing him to let go. They both crashed to the ground in a heap. Pekoms was on his feet first, ready to pounce on the dazed commander.
And then a shadow fell over him.
A whisper of steel hissed past his ear. He froze, every muscle in his body screaming in protest. A cold, impossibly sharp edge was pressed against his throat.
"Surrender."
The voice was quiet, calm, and held the finality of a closing coffin. Isshin stood behind him, having appeared from the rooftops as silently as a falling leaf. His hooded form was perfectly still, his katana held with a surgeon's precision.
Pekoms swallowed hard, feeling the blade nick his skin. He slowly raised his hands. "Gao… alright. I surrender."
---
Two hours later, the three cloaked figures reconvened in the caramel-waterfall cavern. Ace dragged a bound and gagged Pekoms behind him, throwing him unceremoniously onto the cavern floor.
"You said 'do not engage'," Gunnar growled, his voice dangerously low as he looked at the trussed-up lion.
"He recognized me!" Ace defended himself. "What was I supposed to do, invite him for tea?"
Gunnar knelt, ripping the gag from Pekoms' mouth. His crimson eyes, glowing faintly in the dark, bored into the terrified Mink. "Where is she?"
"Where is who?!" Pekoms stammered, trying to put on a brave face. "I don't know what you're talking about!"
"Don't play games with me, cat," Gunnar snarled. The air around his right hand began to shimmer with heat. "Charlotte Smoothie. My wife. Where is Big Mom holding her?"
Pekoms' eyes widened in terror. The pieces clicked into place. The war, the abduction… this was the husband. "I-I don't know! I swear on my life! I'm just a combatant! I collect tributes! They don't tell grunts like me where they keep high-value prisoners!"
Gunnar's anger was a palpable force, a suffocating pressure that made the very air in the cavern feel thick and heavy. Pekoms started to sweat profusely.
"That's not the answer I want," Gunnar said, his lava hand flaring to life.
"Wait! Wait!" Pekoms yelped, shrinking back from the heat. "I don't know, but… but maybe I know someone who might! She's… Smoothie is one of them! From the Long-Leg Tribe! They have a small settlement here, on Leguman Island! They're treated like nobility because of Smoothie's status. If anyone has heard a rumor, if anyone has inside information… it would be them!"
Gunnar's hand dimmed. He stood up, his mind racing. It was a long shot, but it was the only lead they had.
He turned to the others. "We're taking a detour."
"What about him?" Ace asked, gesturing to Pekoms.
"He's coming with us," Gunnar decided. "He's our insurance policy. And our guide."
They dragged the protesting Pekoms back to the Striker. With Namur once again guiding them through the treacherous juice-currents, they set a new course for Leguman Island.
Aboard the ship, Gunnar stood at the helm, staring into the darkness. Ace leaned against the mast, occasionally glaring at their captive. Isshin sat meditating, a silent anchor in the sea of tension.
"You're all insane," Pekoms muttered, tied to the mast. "You can't just waltz into Totto Land and expect to leave. Especially not with a member of the Charlotte family."
"She's not a Charlotte anymore," Gunnar said without turning around. "She's a Whitebeard. And we don't leave family behind."
"You're going to get yourselves killed," Pekoms warned.
Ace smirked. "We've been told that before. It's starting to lose its impact."
The ship cut through the strange, sweet sea, a ghost on a desperate mission, chasing a sliver of hope into the heart of an Emperor's territory. The stakes were higher than ever, and their only guide was a terrified lion who was beginning to realize he had been dragged into a fight far above his pay grade.
***
The corridors of the Whole Cake Chateau were a dizzying labyrinth of frosted archways and gingerbread columns.
Perospero, his arm in a sling fashioned from shimmering red licorice and his chest tightly bound with candy-cane-striped bandages, strode purposefully toward the guest wing. His usual smug grin was absent, replaced by a tight-lipped scowl.
He stopped before a lavish set of doors carved from solid white chocolate, guarded by two stoic Biscuit Soldiers. They parted without a word, allowing him entry.
Inside, the room was a confectionary marvel, with a four-poster bed made of angel food cake and curtains of spun sugar. Charlotte Pudding was sitting by the window, nervously fidgeting with a small, animated teacup. She looked up as her eldest brother entered, her expression wary.
"Brother Perospero," she said, her voice a near-whisper.
"Pudding," he acknowledged, his tone brusque. "I have a task for you from Mama."
Pudding flinched slightly. A task from their mother was rarely a simple request. "What is it?"
"Our… guest… is nearing her term," Perospero said, deliberately avoiding Smoothie's name. "The doctors Mama brought in from Medical Island say it could be any day now. A matter of hours, perhaps." He paused, a flicker of something—pride? ambition?—in his eyes. "The birth of the first child to carry the blood of two Yonko is not a small affair. Mama intends to make it a grand spectacle. A statement to the world."
Pudding's heart sank. A spectacle meant politics, power plays, and danger. "What kind of statement?"
"A statement of unity and strength," Perospero declared, his voice regaining some of its usual theatrical flair. "The child will be raised as a Charlotte. A symbol of our family's power, capable of forging alliances or crushing our enemies. Mama wants representatives from all the most powerful tribes and kingdoms in Totto Land to be present for the announcement."
He leaned closer, his candy-sweet breath washing over her. "And that, little sister, is where you come in. You will go to the Long-Leg Tribe's settlement on Leguman Island."
Pudding's eyes widened. "The Long-Legs? But… after everything with Smoothie…"
"Especially because of everything with Smoothie!" Perospero snapped, his frustration showing. "They're proud, and they considered Smoothie's position a great honor. Her… elopement… was seen as an insult. Mama wants to smooth things over. To bring them back into the fold."
He handed her an ornate, rolled-up scroll tied with a ribbon of fruit leather. "You will deliver this invitation personally to their chieftain, Long-John. You will inform them that their prodigal daughter is safe and that her child, a child of their bloodline, is about to be born. Tell them Mama is granting them the great honor of being the first to welcome the new addition to our family. Lay it on thick. Flatter them. Make them feel important."