Katakuri tore through the streets of Beehive Island like a rampaging locomotive. His long legs blurred, the hardened soles of his shoes nearly sparked as they scraped against the stone-paved ground.
Behind him, Roya bounced along like a little frog. With legs barely half the length of Katakuri's, there was no other way to keep up except to jump—awkwardly and comically.
Yet despite his awkward posture, Roya wore an expression of complete intoxication.
Delicious.
The more love Katakuri's heart held, the more potent the black energy he emitted when that love was wounded. Although the quantity was small, the quality was exquisite.
To Roya, it was a delicacy. Every trace of suffering, every emotional wound Katakuri endured, was a subtle evolution for Roya—body and soul slowly transforming.
But even as he indulged, Roya reminded himself to stay grounded. Pleasure is fine, he told himself. Obsession is dangerous. He couldn't afford to be consumed by the very ability he wielded.
The two arrived at the port.
The Beehive Island harbor was always buzzing. With hundreds of thousands of pirates living there—and more arriving and departing daily—it was a chaotic hub of activity. Without this constant flow, where else would Roya get his feasts?
Tucked into a corner of the port, a group of thugs were laughing uproariously.
"Hahahaha! Bet Katakuri won't act so cocky now!"
"Exactly! If you can't beat him, target his family!"
"That eel-faced freak shouldn't be allowed to have a cute sister!"
"Haha! Katakuri must be crying his eyes out, hugging his scarred-up sister!"
They were drinking and celebrating as if they'd won some glorious war—utterly unaware of what was coming.
"You're the ones who hurt Brûlée."
A voice, cold as an ancient glacier, cut through the air behind them.
The thugs turned.
Katakuri approached slowly, dragging his trident behind him. The metal scraped against the stone, hissing like a blade thirsting for blood.
"Katakuri?" one of them scoffed. "What, you like our little gift? Maybe now you'll shut your freakish mouth!"
Another punk laughed, pointing at the scarf wrapped around Katakuri's lower face. "Finally covering up that eel-face, huh? Should've done that years ago!"
Behind Katakuri, Roya couldn't help but clap in admiration. "Wow. Beehive Island gangsters really are fearless. That's real Rocks Pirates energy right there!"
Madmen, he thought. I respect your suicidal bravery.
"Die."
Katakuri didn't waste another word.
The trident blurred forward like a black comet, piercing clean through one thug's stomach and hurling him backwards.
"Huh?" The others barely registered the movement.
Katakuri pulled back with his right hand. A string of mochi connected to the trident snapped taut and brought the weapon flying back into his grip.
With a single sweeping motion, he decapitated two more thugs. Their heads spiraled through the air, painting the scene in arterial red.
"WAAAAAAAAH!"
Only then did the remaining goons begin screaming, panicked and horrified.
"Wait! Wait, Katakuri! This is a misunderstanding—!"
"Glutinous Ball Stab!"
"Glutinous Ball Stab!"
"Glutinous Ball Stab!"
The blood-soaked massacre ended in silence.
Roya approached, clicking his tongue at the sight of mangled corpses.
Normally, Katakuri had a temper—but this… this was a different beast. Brutal. Surgical. No survivors.
"I won't leave any more weaknesses," Katakuri said, his voice flat. "I'll give every enemy perfect terror."
Brûlée's pain would never be repeated.
His enemies would learn fear—true fear.
"Ohhh! So cool, Katakuri!" Roya praised with wide eyes. "Not only did you upgrade your face, you upgraded your entire persona! Cold, ruthless... You'll be so popular!"
In this world, the 'cold, brooding warrior' trope always won more fans than cheerful little suns like Roya.
Katakuri said nothing.
After a long pause, he muttered, "Roya... the pirate hunts end here."
"Huh?"
Roya pouted. "What about my afternoon tea?"
From under his scarf, Katakuri twitched. "Who cares about your tea?!"
"But is that really okay?" Roya leaned forward, teasing. "Even the Rocks Pirates never run out of idiots challenging them."
Katakuri remained silent.
Then he looked down, hesitant. "Roya… what should I do? I don't want to see my siblings hurt again."
Roya understood perfectly.
Big Mom's parenting style was more "birth and ignore." Most of the kids were left to raise themselves. No guidance. No emotional support. Just survival.
Katakuri had no one to turn to—until now.
Enter the wise and dependable big bro, Roya.
He hopped up and clapped Katakuri on the shoulder. "You can't protect them by shielding them from everything. That's not love—it's control. Real love means helping them grow stronger beside you."
Katakuri blinked.
Roya smirked. "And come on, you can't even beat me. Talking about 'perfect terror'? Please."
"You bastard!!" Katakuri's eye twitched. "I have gotten stronger! Let's fight right now!"
"I already told you—I'm a pacifist," Roya replied calmly. "But seriously, try relying on your family. No matter how strong you get, you can't be everywhere at once. But if all your siblings are strong... if they love and protect each other… then that is a real iron wall."
Katakuri stood in stunned silence.
Then, slowly, the fire in his eyes returned.
"I see now."
With a swift motion, he ripped off the scarf.
"You're right, Roya! I know what I need to do!"
"Glad to hear it." Roya nodded. "But remember—you owe me. Next time I call, I expect you to rise from the dead if you have to."
"…How would I even do that?"
But Katakuri was smiling again.
Roya watched him, eyes narrowed. Now let's see how far you can grow without those chains holding you back. And Big Mom... when that day comes, will you still be in control?
A Week Later
One afternoon, just after finishing lunch, Roya lay dozing lazily on the Colosseum throne.
BOOM!
A thunderous explosion rocked the earth, jolting him awake.
"Huh?" Roya rubbed his eyes. "What now?"
The ground shook beneath him.
He turned toward the direction of the blast—straight at the massive Skull Fortress.
Oho. Is a fight breaking out between cadres? And no one invited me? How rude.
"Master Roya!" Dylan rushed in. "Captain Rocks and the others are back!"
Roya's eyes lit up. "The Captain?"
Now this was going to be a show.
He flapped his wings and shot toward the Skull Fortress. But when he arrived, the action was already over.
A gaping hole had been blasted through the building's center. Rubble lay scattered everywhere, the aftermath of a violent collision.
Amidst the debris sat a bloodied Whitebeard, or rather—Edward Newgate.
The second-in-command of Beehive Island wiped blood from his face, swatting away the worried Stussy as she tried to tend to him.
"Newgate!" she cried, eyes red. "That idiot Rocks! How could he do this to you?!"
"It's none of your business," Newgate growled coldly.
"Newgate!" Stussy was nearly in tears. "I care about you!"
"Didn't ask you to."
Stone-faced, Newgate didn't even flinch.
Roya watched the scene unfold like a soap opera. "Whoa. Real drama over here."
Poor Stussy, he thought. She still doesn't get it.
Everyone who ruled the sea—Newgate included—came from some broken place. No healthy childhoods. No open hearts.
But still...
"…So what exactly happened here?" Roya muttered, rubbing his chin. "How did Rocks manage to beat Whitebeard?"
"Roya!" a familiar voice called out cheerfully.
He looked up—and saw two towering figures approaching from the fortress doorway.
"Auntie Lingling! Kaido-nii! You're back too?"