What's a "psycho queen"?
It's the girl who coos "you're my favorite, big bro" one second… and the next is sharpening a knife for your head.
And when that psycho streak meets Absolute Justice—like it does in Momousagi (Gion)—you don't call it a personality anymore. You call it a diagnosis.
For a moment, Ron even pictured a Hawk-faction strategy meeting:
"Comrades! The justice we cling to has made us… unwell.
The Four Emperors, the Old Era, the countless pirates—they are our medicine.
Slaughter the pirates, purge the seas, and we can finally be normal again!"
Akainu on the stage, spitting fire; a crowd of Marines below, zeal blazing in their eyes—
seeds taking root, stems rising, until a blood-red spider lily blooms.
And Momousagi? She'd be the most dazzling—and deadliest—flower of them all.
Seeing Ron drift off, she smiled. "I feel nothing for Tokikake," she said lightly,
"but I am curious about you. Sengoku asked me to persuade you to join the Marines."
Persuade or "put to sleep"? He sighed and shook his head. "My answer hasn't changed."
"Refuse or not doesn't matter to me," she said, unfazed. "I'll drink either way—Sengoku's paying. I'd be a fool not to."
Not the script Ron expected. No badgering, no threats, no sleazy bargaining—
Just a woman clocking her hours.
Then again, you can't judge a psycho by common sense; the next minute she might do something nobody predicts.
Time slid by. They chatted idly.
By the time the bottle of plum wine ran dry, dusk had gilded the island in thin gold.
Momousagi set down a fat stack of Berries and rose.
"Thanks for the hospitality. See you next time."
She reached the door, paused, glanced back with a teasing smile.
"Oh—thanks for that story last time. The Marines have added twenty thousand troops to the Ace operation.
Also, Admiral Akainu arrives tomorrow."
She sashayed out, long legs and pink trim receding into the amber light.
Ron exhaled. "Which of those lines was true, and which was bait… who knows with a psycho like you?"
Still… why tip him off about reinforcements and Akainu's ETA?
A test? A probe?
Before he could untangle it, the System chimed:
[Ding—Customer Gion (Momousagi) has completed her confession.]
[Selectable: Armament Haki, Momousagi's combat instincts, Observation Haki…]
Ron grimaced. He already had the lot; the rest were side-grades at best.
"Can I grant duplicates to others?" he asked.
Rem and Ram's combat power was basically zero. It was time their "boss" invested in staff safety—
would save him a few personal outings when problem customers acted up.
[Ding—Duplicate abilities can be converted into skill books and bestowed on others.]
"Convert Armament Haki into a skill book and stash it," Ron said.
[Ding—Conversion complete!]
A crimson light orb appeared in the System inventory.
"I'll wait till I've got one more for balance," he murmured. Bosses should play fair with both twins.
From the kitchen came Rem's voice: "Master, dinner's ready! Grilled fish and roasted lamb leg tonight."
"Coming!" Ron jogged in to help plate.
Marineford, Fleet Admiral's Office
Sengoku paced with a report in hand. "Mm… Little Tsuru's two questions are on point.
But the middle's too ordinary, and that last part—big holes." He nodded. "I'll add a clause tonight."
Vice Admiral Tsuru inclined her head in silence.
Knock knock knock.
Momousagi stepped in on clicking heels.
"Well?" Sengoku asked, glancing back.
"Same attitude as last time," she said, sitting on the couch with a small smile. "But…"
"I saw something interesting today—Roger's blade. Hanging on the tavern wall."
Sengoku and Tsuru's pupils shrank.
That sword had been gone for decades. Why resurface now—there of all places?
Hunting Roger's heir on one front, while on the other, Ron casually hangs Roger's saber like it's wall art.
And why announce Ace's lineage in front of both Sengoku and Rayleigh?
What are you playing at, boy?
"If it's truly Roger's sword, his identity is… muddy," Sengoku said at last. "No wonder he refused."
"Did you press him?" Tsuru asked.
"I didn't bring up the blade," Momousagi said, lips curving. "I left him a hook instead.
When it's tugged, we'll see whether Ron leans toward Rayleigh and Ace… or toward the Marines.
Then we can invite him without restraint."
Night draped its starry shawl over Sabaody.
Salt wind, surf against the rocks—Rem, Ram, and Ron breathed in the rare peace.
Ding…
The bell chimed. The door opened.
Ron looked over—froze—then palmed his face.
"Another simp."
Calling him "man" was generous. The newcomer was a sheep—bronze-skinned, upright, polite.
Fei Yangyang.
One of the leads from Pleasant Goat & Big Big Wolf.
Brave, straightforward… and so terminally devoted it looped back to comedy. Also: painfully dense.
Seeing him triggered an old pre-crossing meme in Ron's head:
Mei Yangyang: "Fei Yangyang, Xi Yangyang's out of strength—push!"
"Also, you're not allowed to open your eyes while pushing!"
"Hello," Fei Yangyang said, stepping in with impeccable manners.
"A voice guided me here. It said your grass juice is delicious."
He perched at the counter, eyes wandering the room.
Gunfire echoed faintly outside; the alienness of the place made him fidget.
"Grass… juice?" Rem and Ram traded a look.
Ron sighed. "Go snip some fresh grass and run it through the juicer."
Advance Chapters available on Patreon
patreon.com/ZoroTL442