A gentle sea breeze swept across the slightly damp deck. It was a rare clear day for this region of the New World.
A pirate warship bearing the flag of the Big Mom Pirates sailed steadily through the waves. Their destination wasn't far now—Terian Island was already visible on the horizon, its silhouette looming ahead.
At the bow of the ship, Katakuri stood silently, gazing at the shadowy outline of Terian Island. His expression carried a trace of nostalgia, and every so often, a flicker of hesitation and confusion crossed his face.
Cracker, standing beside him, was surprised. Charlotte Katakuri—foremost among the Big Mom Pirates' Sweet Commanders and second son of Charlotte Linlin—had always been the picture of composure and confidence. Their younger siblings viewed him as the perfect older brother. It had been so long since Cracker had seen this kind of expression on Katakuri's face, he could barely remember the last time.
"Katakuri?" Unable to hold back his curiosity, Cracker finally asked, "What's on your mind?"
As if pulled back from his thoughts by Cracker's voice, Katakuri casually raised a hand and ruffled Cracker's hair. "Just remembering something from a long, long time ago," he replied.
Charlotte Cracker was seventeen—barely an adult by this world's standards. But as a child of the great pirate Charlotte Linlin, he was far from ordinary. Even in the New World, his name carried weight.
Of course, thanks to his habit of encasing himself in layers of biscuits, very few outside the family knew what he actually looked like. Most only knew the rumors—that he was cruel and terrifying.
Yet now, that same "cruel" teenager stood there letting Katakuri mess up his hair, a shy yet contented look on his face.
That was Charlotte Katakuri. In the Charlotte family, there was no such role as "father." Perhaps that was why Katakuri—flawless and strong—had gradually become something of a father figure to his younger siblings.
Maybe that's what they meant by "an elder brother is like a father"? Even if Katakuri wasn't the eldest, he was only twenty himself.
After a brief moment of basking in his older brother's affection, Cracker spoke up again, "Are you thinking about that Ortoren guy?"
Katakuri's hand paused mid-rub before he naturally withdrew it and gave Cracker's head a light tap. "By blood, you should call him brother too, Cracker."
"But that guy's last name isn't Charlotte—it's Benn..." Cracker argued.
As Katakuri's right hand on this journey, Cracker knew exactly who they were headed to meet on Terian Island.
Benn Ortoren. An eighteen-year-old teenager who, in theory, should have been the fifth son of the Charlotte family—coming after the eldest, Perospero, and Katakuri's two brothers. The fifth son of the great pirate Charlotte Linlin.
But apparently, due to certain special circumstances, this fifth son hadn't grown up with the rest of the family. In fact, he didn't even share their surname. He was "Benn," not "Charlotte."
"No matter what his surname is, Cracker!" Katakuri locked eyes with him, his voice firm. "He has Mama's blood running through his veins. No one can deny that."
His tone softened as he added with a hint of regret, "And it wasn't his fault. It was ours."
Cracker still looked puzzled, unsure. Katakuri didn't explain further. Instead, he smiled and said, "In the end, I believe that one day, he'll be willing to become a Charlotte."
Looking at the gentle Katakuri, Cracker shrugged awkwardly. "Well, I'm not the type to just accept anyone as my brother."
Katakuri chuckled but didn't argue.
Soon, under the sea breeze, the pirate ship flying the Big Mom Pirates' flag slowly entered the port of Terian Island.
As it docked, the harbor buzzed with activity.
"It's the Donut!"
"Katakuri-sama's flagship!"
The Donut, Katakuri's flagship, looked like a massive donut floating on the sea. In fact, most ships in the Big Mom Pirates had that peculiar yet oddly cute design—like something straight out of a fairy tale.
The gangplank lowered, and Katakuri's towering figure appeared, immediately drawing the attention of everyone at the port.
The chatter died down at once. In that moment, Katakuri exuded a cold, intimidating aura—completely different from the warmth he had shown Cracker just minutes ago. His tall scarf covered half his face, and his eyes were sharp with authority.
He descended the ramp slowly, with Cracker—already wrapped in his biscuit armor—and a group of Big Mom Pirates' crew members following behind.
Terian Island had raised the Big Mom Pirates' flag about six months ago, officially marking it as part of Totto Land's territory.
So, even before Katakuri arrived, local officials were already waiting at the dock.
Yes—officials. Unlike most pirate crews, the Big Mom Pirates were evolving toward becoming a "pirate nation." Naturally, that came with a growing bureaucratic class.
Normally, islands that flew the Big Mom Pirates' flag would have their names changed to something like "Jam Island," "Butter Island," or "Candy Island," then get absorbed into Totto Land as part of its territory.
But Terian Island was an exception. It had flown the flag for a while now and was already under Totto Land's domain, yet its name remained unchanged. No "Minister" had been assigned to govern it either.
Katakuri didn't say much to the waiting officials. He gave a few cold, terse instructions, then waved them off.
After briefly observing the harbor town, he seemed to spot something and led Cracker and the others in that direction, soon disappearing from the port.
...
On the outskirts of Terian's port town, there was a small farmhouse. At that moment, Katakuri, using his towering height of over five meters, was peeking over the wall into the courtyard.
Inside came the rhythmic clanging of metal. A muscular man, shirtless and holding a small blacksmith's hammer, was hard at work forging something. Without turning around, he called out, "The door's not locked."
"You've gotten even stronger, Toren..." Katakuri said with a smile.
Whether he had just finished or was pausing for his guest, the man Katakuri called "Toren" set his hammer down on a nearby table, grabbed a towel hanging from the wall, wiped the sweat from his brow, and turned around.
His dark brown hair was medium-length and unkempt, the ends messily resting on his shoulders, giving him a wild, untamed charm.
At a glance, he looked even more mature than Katakuri—less like an eighteen-year-old and more like a man in his mid-twenties. His facial features were sharp and defined, giving off a strong and striking presence.
Though not quite as massive as Katakuri, he still stood over three meters tall, his body tanned and muscular. With his bare torso, black work pants, and heavy brown boots, he absolutely looked the part of a "Mighty General Brother."