The sea roared like a wounded beast beneath a sky shrouded in shadow.
A monstrous storm had swallowed the horizon whole, blotting out the sun and sky in a swirling tapestry of charcoal grey. Rain lashed down in furious torrents, cutting like blades against the skin.
Thunder cracked the heavens like the war drums of ancient gods, and lightning illuminated the towering waves with flashes of ghostly brilliance. The sea churned and twisted, alive and vengeful, as if Poseidon himself was raging at the surface.
Winds screamed across the ocean like banshees, bending the masts of ships that dared challenge this maelstrom. But no grand vessel stood here—only a single, battered longboat sliced through the chaos, swallowed on all sides by the storm and a fog so thick, it was as if the world beyond five meters ceased to exist.
Within the tiny boat, two figures fought silently—not against the storm alone, but against the ghosts of the past.
One was a broad-shouldered, canine-like beast, or more specifically a mink, his lustrous mane drenched and flattened by the rain, yet his posture remained regal even amid the chaos. His samurai armor—though battered and corroded with salt—still clung to his form with dignity.
This was Inuarashi, once a proud warrior of the canine mink tribe and retainer to the late Lord Oden. His hand gripped the rudder, steering the tiny vessel through the frothing sea with iron control, eyes fixed forward like a soldier condemned to march through hell.
Beside him, sprawled awkwardly across a bench with his claws dug into the wood for dear life, was the feline equivalent of a shipwrecked warlord. Soaked to the bone, his massive tail flicking violently every time the boat bucked, sat Nekomamushi, a feline mink.
His thick fur clumped and matted in the rain, water streaming from his pointed ears, his golden eyes narrowed to slits of discomfort.
"Bastard sea..." Nekomamushi muttered, teeth bared. "Still smells like fish guts and betrayal…"
Inuarashi's ear twitched, but he said nothing. His silence spoke louder than any retort.
They had been at sea for more than a year—two warriors of the mink tribe who had been granted the title of retainers by none other than the Shogun of Wano himself were now reduced to wandering exiles.
Ever since the fall of Wano, they had scoured the vast, unrelenting oceans of the New World, seeking a way home—not just to their island, but to Zunesha, the ancient elephant that has been their people's sanctuary for close to a millennium.
The voyage had been long, miserable, and silent.
Neither of them spoke unless provoked. The brotherhood they once shared—built through countless years of battle and loyalty—had been cracked by grief. Not broken, but strained to its limits. The weight of Lord Oden's death loomed between them like an unspoken curse.
Inuarashi, for all his calm demeanor, harbored a festering storm within—guilt for his absence when Oden faced the fires of death, and fury, irrational but real, at Nekomamushi for surviving while Oden lay dead.
Nekomamushi, wild and proud, had accepted his friend's silent hatred with a scoff and a sneer. He too bore the shame. And so the silence grew between them, broken only by the occasional spat—sharp, venomous words tossed like knives when the memories became too much to bear.
"Sea still makes you gag, eh, coward?" Inuarashi sneered as the boat rocked violently again, his knuckles tightening on the rudder. "Some seafaring warrior you are. I guess that's why you let Oden-sama burn while you were off licking your paws."
The words stung, even more because Nekomamushi had thought them himself on countless, sleepless nights. His head snapped around, fangs bared.
"At least I was fighting, you mutt! Where were you…? Were you sipping sake in the shade of some island while I and the rest fought against Oden-sama's enemies? Where were you, huh?! On your merry little voyage? At least I was by his side, laying down my life…."
Another crash of thunder punctuated their words. Rain and wind howled louder, yet their voices cut through the storm like swords unsheathed.
"And yet here you are, alive and well, despite staking your life… while Oden-sama perished…" Inurashi barked in rage.
But before Nekomamushi could leap at his friend, something shifted. A silence unlike the one they had endured before. Heavy. Hollow. The waves slowed. The wind softened. The storm did not vanish—but something greater than the storm had arrived.
From the depths of the mist, an immense silhouette began to emerge—like a mountain rising from the depths of the sea itself. A pulse rippled through the water, like the heartbeat of the world, and then—
Boom. The ocean quaked. Boom.
The fog parted before it like servants parting for royalty. And then it stepped into view.
Zunesha.
The ancient titan. The living island. The last of its kind. Each step it took sent tsunamis rolling outward, its legs like obsidian pillars that reached into the clouds. Moss and trees clung to its back like a living forest, and waterfalls poured from its shoulders like the tears of heaven itself. Its skin was etched with the scars of a thousand years, every wrinkle a tale of suffering and strength. Eyes deeper than the sea itself glowed with ancient sorrow—and undying purpose.
"...Zunesha…" Inuarashi whispered, his voice trembling.
The sight banished all hatred between them in a heartbeat. Nekomamushi rose slowly, ignoring the nausea in his gut, ears raised high.
"Finally... After all this time… we've found it."
The elephant did not trumpet. It didn't need to. Its very presence was a divine declaration. The rain still fell, the sea still stirred, but now it bowed to something older than the world's chaos. In that moment, the two warriors—battered, broken, and lost—felt small again. Like children before a god.
Zunesha had heard their vow. The promise to wait for the Kozuki bloodline. The promise to return. The promise to fight for Wano once more. Despite their pain. Despite their failure. Despite the sea itself trying to claim them. They had come home.
And somewhere, in the depths of the storm, the ancient elephant turned its great eye toward the little boat—as if recognizing two of its own who had weathered the storm, not just of the sea, but of the soul. Nekomamushi and Inuarashi stood together in silence.
"Quick, you stupid mutt! Steer the damn boat toward Zunesha's leg—we're going to lose it!" Nekomamushi bellowed over the deafening crash of waves, claws digging into the soaked deck as he scrambled to secure the ropes.
The rain beat down like war drums on the ocean's skin, and the world was chaos—a maelstrom of fog, wind, and water. Yet ahead of them, parting the mist like a divine omen, loomed the titanic leg of Zunesha.
An ancient god of the sea walking in silence.
Despite its slow and ponderous gait, each of Zunesha's steps crossed miles, the sheer size of the beast making every motion a monumental event. The two retainers of the Kozuki Clan had no means to signal it, no Vivre Card to track it should they fall behind. And the sea showed no mercy.
If they missed their chance now, they may never find Zunesha again.
"I know, damn it!" Inuarashi snarled, wrestling with the rudder as towering waves battered their tiny boat like a leaf in a hurricane. His grip was iron, but even he was struggling to maintain course as the vortex of water pushed them away from the beast's legs.
Then, from the depths of the mist, a bone-rattling roar tore through the storm—a deep, guttural bellow that seemed to reverberate through the sea itself.
"RROOOOOOAAAARRR!"
Nekomamushi's eyes widened as the source of the sound emerged beneath them—massive shapes gliding just below the surface, churning the waters into a violent froth.
"Sea Kings," he hissed, recognizing the serpentine shadows. Dozens of them.
A nest. Zunesha had unknowingly stepped over one of their breeding grounds, and now the mighty colossus stirred up chaos in its wake. To Zunesha, the Sea Kings were insects—nothing more than ripples beneath its timeless march. But for the two Mink warriors in their fragile vessel, these leviathans were a death sentence.
"Stop pissing yourself and get rid of the Sea Kings, you overgrown housecat!" Inuarashi barked, his golden eyes ablaze with tension as he leaned into the rudder, forcing the boat to veer in the direction of the churning waters that had just been parted by Zunesha's step.
"Or do you expect me to steer through a typhoon and fight a bloody Sea King at the same time?!"
Nekomamushi's fur bristled. His first instinct was to leap across the deck and punch his lifelong friend square in the face. But even as his lips curled into a snarl, he knew Inuarashi was right. If they let this chance slip, if they failed now, how long would it take to find Zunesha again? How long before the sea buried them forever?
They didn't even have a Vivre Card. This was their one shot. With a growl, the feline mink sprang toward the edge of the boat, claws unsheathing in a flash of steel. His eyes locked onto the serpentine shape rising just ahead—a Sea King with teeth like jagged coral and scales the size of shields.
"Come on, then, you overgrown eel!" he roared.
As lightning forked through the sky behind him, Nekomamushi launched himself into the air, slicing downward with a clawed hand that tore across the Sea King's eye. The monster shrieked, rearing back in agony, giving the boat just enough breathing room as Inuarashi guided it toward Zunesha's leg.
Another Sea King lunged up from the depths, mouth gaping wide enough to swallow the boat whole. Without hesitation, Nekomamushi twisted mid-air, landed atop the creature's snout, and plunged his claws infused with armament haki into its nostrils.
"This isn't your ocean, you scaly bastard!"
The beast thrashed and sank beneath the surface, bleeding into the sea. Behind him, Inuarashi gritted his teeth and surged forward, steering the boat into the gap left by Zunesha's last colossal step.
Through the curtain of rain, they finally came within reach.
Zunesha's leg towered above them like a monolith, its ancient, wrinkled hide caked with centuries of moss, grime, and time itself. The texture was like stone, yet breathing. A walking continent. Each movement of the beast's limb caused tidal waves to crash against its own ankle.
"Now, Neko! Grab on!" Inuarashi roared as the boat slammed into the base of the leg, threatening to splinter. Nekomamushi, soaked and panting, leapt back onto the deck. Without missing a beat, the two warriors hurled ropes and grappling hooks upward, digging into the thick, forested flesh of the great elephant.
As the boat began to capsize from the wild currents, the two Minks began to climb. Hand over hand, claw over barked skin. The storm shrieked behind them, the Sea Kings howled in rage, and Zunesha marched onward, oblivious to the drama playing out upon its limb.
For every meter they ascended, their muscles screamed, the wind tore at their fur, and rain blinded their vision. Yet they climbed. Not as enemies. Not as rivals. But as warriors. As brothers. As vassals of the Kozuki bloodline.
Halfway up, Nekomamushi glanced down to see their boat finally torn to pieces by the waves. Their last link to the ocean was gone. Ahead of them, only Zunesha remained—a path to salvation, or perhaps to something even greater.
"Think they will still welcome us after our failure…?" he called out between heavy breaths.
"After all we've endured?" Inuarashi growled, disregarding the question. "We're already there."
"However, if they were to punish us , I will gladly accept it after passing the message. After all, the Minks need to be ready when the Kozuki bloodline returns."
And so, as the ancient beast marched onward through the sea, it carried not just the weight of its own forgotten era—but the hopes of two loyal warriors clinging to its flesh, ready to fight once more for the dawn of Wano.
After nearly an hour of grueling ascent, clawing and scrambling against the relentless wrath of the storm, the two Minks finally breached the peak of the ancient titan's back. Drenched to the bone, muscles aching, breath ragged in their chests—they had made it. The wind still howled across the sky like a chorus of ghosts, and the rain hammered down upon the great elephant's back. But despite it all, there it stood before them.
Mokomo Dukedom.
Their home. It had been decades since they last laid eyes on it. Decades since they had left this sanctuary—this hidden jewel upon the back of the world's most ancient beast—to honor the unbreakable vow between the Mink Tribe and the Kozuki Clan. But now, after years of pain, of war, of exile and silence, the path had come full circle.
The storm clouds broke for just a moment, and a shaft of golden light pierced the mist. In that ethereal glow, Mokomo Dukedom revealed itself in all its primal, majestic beauty.
The landscape stretched endlessly across the back of Zunesha, a country hidden from the world, nestled in a living Eden atop a walking continent. Vast rainforests with trees thicker than towers rustled in the wind. Hanging moss and bioluminescent flowers swayed from their canopies. Rivers of crystal-clear water flowed between wooden pathways and rope bridges, winding through the settlements like veins of life.
Amidst the trees were homes of all shapes and sizes—built into trunks, beneath roots, on stilts above the treetops, with designs both rustic and whimsical, reflecting the diverse species of the Mink Tribe. Giant stone lanterns burned like guiding stars, and the faint sound of drums echoed from deep within the heart of the forest.
At the far end, rising from the jungle like a crown, stood the Whale Tree, the ancient spiritual symbol of the tribe—massive, revered, and glowing faintly under the storm-filtered sunlight. Its branches seemed to reach out toward the heavens themselves.
But before them, looming at the edge of the country, was the front gate—the very first landmark one encountered when scaling Zunesha via its hind legs.
A bastion of strength and pride.
The gate was forged from immense steel bars, reinforced with interlocking beams of seastone and ironwood, capable of withstanding anything the Grand Line could hurl at it. The walls surrounding the dukedom stretched wide, surrounding the entirety of the dukedom.
Above the gate, written in bold, proud letters carved from gilded wood, was the name:
"MOKOMO DUKEDOM"
The wind carried the sound of their footsteps as they drew closer, their silhouettes framed by mist and rain. Their once-bright clothes were ragged, their fur matted with seawater and blood, yet their presence was unmistakable.
From the watchtowers flanking the gates—elegantly crafted spires made of wood and bone, wrapped in climbing vines—the lookout guards stirred. Their sharp eyes, trained to pierce fog and shadow, spotted the two approaching figures with a mixture of caution and disbelief.
There was a tense pause. Then—recognition. They were not strangers. They were kin. Minks. The ones who had left years ago to honor the pact between themselves and the Kozuki clan.
"It's them!" one of the scouts cried, nearly dropping his spyglass. "Inuarashi-sama! Nekomamushi-sama!"
The Visitor's Bells, ancient relics mounted beside the towers and used only on rare and sacred occasions, were struck with heavy mallets. A deep, resonant tone echoed across the dukedom—slow at first, then rising in rhythm. The Welcoming Bell had been rung.
The signal was clear. "The minks out on the sea have returned."
Within minutes, the sound spread through the treetop villages and winding paths of Mokomo. Minks of all kinds—canine and feline, rodent and reptilian, young and old—paused in their daily lives, ears perking up at the unmistakable call. Warriors dropped their training spears. Children stopped their games. Elders blinked in disbelief.
From the thick canopy, the families of those minks who had ventured to the sea stirred. From within the jungle outposts, the soldiers of the dukedom unsheathed their weapons—not in preparation for war, but in ceremonial gesture to welcome the returning minks.
The guards at the gate, barely able to contain their emotion, raced down from the towers. The massive gates, normally kept sealed to all but the trusted, were unlocked and slowly pulled open with a groan that echoed like thunder.
As the doors parted, Inuarashi and Nekomamushi stood tall—scarred, soaked, but unbroken.
They had returned home. Nekomamushi's tail twitched as he looked around, the familiar scent of the rainforest soil filling his lungs.
"Still smells like unwashed mutts," he muttered, hiding the tremble in his voice.
Inuarashi smirked despite himself. "And yet, even after all this time, the stench of fish still clings to you." The two exchanged a glance.
Just as the long-awaited moment of peace began to settle over the battered hearts of Inuarashi and Nekomamushi—just as the warm cheer of familiar voices and the ringing of the Welcoming Bell offered the comfort of home—a roar thundered across the mountaintop.
A roar Zou had not heard in decades.
It wasn't the guttural bellow of some wild beast, nor the disciplined cry of a soldier. It was something else entirely—a cry of heartbreak, of grief swallowed for far too long and now set ablaze by the presence of two ghosts who had finally come home.
Before either of them could brace themselves, a figure tore through the gathering crowd, moving faster than the eye could track, a blur of white wool and rage crashing forward like a storm descending from the heavens.
Even before the shape became clear, both Inuarashi and Nekomamushi knew exactly who it was.
"Duke sama…" Nekomamushi whispered, ears flattening.
The crowd gasped collectively, parting in stunned silence as the enraged Duke of Mokomo Dukedom charged forward. He was not merely furious—he was devastated. His normally warm, grandfatherly face—so often lit with wisdom and a calming smile—was now contorted by an emotion no one in the dukedom had ever seen from him: pure, trembling sorrow wrapped in wrath.
Hitsugisukan, the gentle king, the shepherd of Zou. A mighty sheep mink of grand stature with flowing white wool, curved horns, and a regal beard that had long been the symbol of serene leadership. Draped in his deep crimson king's robe, crowned by tradition and love rather than tyranny, he was known not for his strength in battle—but for his strength of heart.
But today, there was no kindness in his gaze.
"YOU BASTARDS!" he roared, his voice like a hammer cracking through the mist. "How dare you show your faces on this sacred land… After what you allowed to happen to Oden…after letting the Kozuki family fall?!"
The gathered minks reeled back in stunned silence. Even the veteran warriors who had seen war and suffered exile had never heard their duke speak like this.
Several guards moved to intercept the charging monarch out of instinct, but he shook them off like leaves in a gale. His fury could not be restrained. His emotions, buried deep for years, surged forward like a dam broken beyond repair.
Then—his massive fists struck.
With no hesitation, no warning, Hitsugisukan's heavy fists smashed into the faces of both Inuarashi and Nekomamushi with the force of a thousand days of anguish. The sound echoed like a drumbeat of judgment.
But neither of them lifted a hand to defend themselves. Not a flinch. Not a block. They took the blows in full. Blood ran from their snouts, but their eyes never turned away. Not in defiance—but in guilt, shame. In understanding. In acceptance of a pain they shared, but could never express.
Because they had failed. And worse—they had survived. And for that, they bore no excuse. The Duke's fists trembled mid-air, and his voice broke—not from fury, but from heartbreak.
"Why…?" he whispered, the strength draining from his body as he slumped to his knees, soaking into the muddy earth, his royal robes fluttering in the storm wind. "Why didn't you save them…? Why weren't you there when they needed you the most?"
Tears streamed from his eyes and vanished into his thick beard. The gathered minks stood frozen—not in judgment, but in shared grief. The air felt heavy with the weight of memory.
Because this wasn't just about Oden.
This was about the bond—the sacred, ancient covenant forged hundreds of years ago between the Mink Tribe and the Kozuki Clan. A bond that was deeper than politics, stronger than blood. The Minks were more than allies. They were sworn guardians, entrusted with the Kozuki line's protection across generations. Their fates had been intertwined since before memory, bound by reverence and love.
And for Hitsugisukan, it had always been personal. He remembered the day decades ago when the great pirate Gol D. Roger's ship had appeared on the horizon of Zou—how his heart nearly stopped when he saw that familiar handwriting on the letter of recommendation he had produced.
Roger's words still echoed in his soul: "They're safe. Both of them. They've joined Edward's crew. And they're serving Oden."
Hitsugisukan had wept then—not out of sorrow, but from pride. Pride that his two wayward sons had found their place beside the heir of the Kozuki clan. That they were fighting for something greater. That they were honoring the vow.
He believed—truly believed—that the next time he saw them, they would be returning with Oden by their side. Instead, what returned… was silence.
And then, one day, a stray newspaper, delivered by a lost News Coo, had fluttered down upon his lap like a messenger of death. He remembered that morning well. His tea had gone cold. His hands had trembled as he read the headline. The words blurred in his vision.
"Wano Burns: Shogun Oden Executed by the Emperor of the Seas 'Hundred Beasts Kaido'..!"
That day, he broke. Quietly, solemnly. His advisors said nothing, for they could see that a part of their king had died that morning. And now—now the very sons he feared dead had returned.
Not victorious. Not with Kozuki flags flying in the wind. But alone. Wounded. Silent.
Hitsugisukan clutched the earth as if trying to anchor himself to something real. His sobs were ragged, unfiltered. "You… you were supposed to guard the Kozuki bloodline…" he choked, "I believed in you. I boasted to our people that the minks that I raised like my own sons stood beside a Kozuki—that Zou's children would stand at the turning of the age… But you weren't there. You left them to die."
For the first time since they had arrived, Inuarashi spoke, his voice low, hoarse with guilt.
"We failed him… and we failed you."
Nekomamushi dropped to one knee beside him, head bowed. "We can never make up for what happened, Hitsugi sama. But we came back… not to be forgiven, but to prepare. For the dawn Oden-sama still believed in."
Silence followed. The storm began to ease, but the weight in the air remained.