Cover Story Serial — "Momonosuke, Part 8: 'Kuina's Death Date?!'"
The mysterious brat had been living in Shimotsuki Village for nearly half a month. The dojo students were slowly getting used to his presence, though few really got along with him. Momonosuke felt completely out of place—lonely, isolated.
He thought about Kin'emon and Kanjuro day and night, but they still hadn't come looking for him. Could they have failed to make the time leap?
That night, frustrated, he kicked pebbles as he wandered alone through the silent path outside the village.
Suddenly, he spotted a girl hurrying past with a pile of clothes in her arms. Was she heading to the bathhouse? His spirits perked up, and he quietly tailed her—only to discover that her destination was an old, dusty warehouse.
She climbed a ladder and struggled to retrieve something from the attic...
...
That same night, Nao had a little reunion party with his friends from the Elite Camp.
He fulfilled the promise he'd made at graduation: to reverse every drinking challenge from their instructors—and sure enough, he knocked them all out cold, one by one.
Instructor Brandon, who'd gotten especially targeted for "revenge," drank himself into oblivion.
As luck (or misfortune) would have it, that night was Valentine's Day, and in a drunken stupor, he stumbled over to Instructor Vivian's place to confess his love.
Her response? A swift, brutal kick that sent him flying—shirtless—into the freezing street, where he passed out and slept the entire night.
When he groggily woke up the next morning, he found Sengoku and Tsuru, who had just gotten up for work, standing in front of him with dark expressions…
Nao didn't know that he had inadvertently landed Instructor Brandon in trouble again. At this moment, after daybreak, he had already left Marineford and embarked on his journey back to Mary Geoise.
...
New World — Cake Island, recently completed.
A grand funeral was underway. The Charlotte Family's many officers and children gathered solemnly at the base of a staircase, bowing their heads before a transparent coffin.
Inside lay a middle-aged Longarm Tribe man named Talu. Plain-faced, of average strength—nothing remarkable.
And yet, here he was, granted such a send-off. The reason was simple: Talu was Big Mom's 26th husband and father to several of her long-armed children.
On the couch sat Big Mom herself, face twisted in a scowl. She glanced now and then at the body in the coffin, and then at her gathered children—some mourning sincerely, others only pretending. She seemed to be restraining something deep within.
"Mama…"
The eldest son, Charlotte Perospero, noticed her state and approached cautiously.
"I know you were really close with Talu compared to your other recent husbands," he said softly. "If you want to grieve, it's okay to excuse yourself. We'd all understand—"
"Understand?"
The moment the words left his mouth, Big Mom's fury ignited.
"You think you understand me? Hm?!"
She shot to her feet with an earth-shaking stomp, stormed down the stairs, and seized Perospero by the collar, hoisting him off the ground with one hand.
"Perospero!" she snarled, eyes blazing with fury.
"Don't talk nonsense. I couldn't care less whether Talu lives or dies! What matters more—didn't I order you to bring that Marine brat Nao here to Cake Island?!"
"It's been months! Where is he?! Hm?! Where?!"
So that's why she'd seemed on edge earlier—not grieving, but impatient?
Perospero had completely misread the situation.
"Ma, Mama…"
He struggled for breath, choking out words with difficulty.
"I-I told you last time, right? That guy's a Marine, and he's been stationed in the West Blue. We've been watching him, but there hasn't been a single opportunity... We couldn't make a move..."
"Hmph?"
Big Mom's eyes narrowed dangerously, murderous cold gleaming in her pupils.
"W-Wait! There's good news too!" he blurted out, panicked, spitting out words like beans from a bamboo tube.
"We just got intel—he visited the New World not long ago to escort two royal families to the Reverie. And now that it's wrapping up, he'll have to escort them home again..."
"Which means—that's our best chance to grab him!"
Big Mom's rage finally began to subside. She stared at her pale-faced son for a long moment… and released him.
Perospero collapsed to the ground, coughing violently. Before he could recover, her chilling voice echoed again:
"You sound so confident… You better not let me down this time."
"You have my word, Mama!" Perospero patted his chest, vowing earnestly.
"We've been planning this marriage for a long time now—even Katakuri rushed back from the frontlines just to join us. He'll be arriving tomorrow, and Smoothie will be coming too. With the three of us working together, nothing can go wrong!"
"Good…"
Big Mom's frosty demeanor finally melted into laughter, as though spring sunshine had replaced a winter storm.
"Mamamamamama! So you do care about your mother's happiness after all!"
"But remember—be polite! Don't hurt my little darling, got it? If all goes well, that Nao boy is going to be your one and only, and last father!"
"…Yes, Mama."
Perospero nodded quickly. But as he retreated, he and Smoothie exchanged a glance—both seeing helplessness in each other's eyes.
Big Mom had never shown this level of affection toward any previous husband. Not only had she kept pushing them to hurry, but she also didn't want the target harmed...
Which only made their job even harder.
After all—
This wasn't some nobody like Talu lying in a coffin.
This was a man who had recently defeated Dugalio the Drought, one of the most dangerous pirates in the New World…
...
Meanwhile — Elsewhere
In just a single day, Nao's warship arrived at Mary Geoise.
By now, the Reverie had wrapped up, and royal delegations from around the world were preparing to depart.
The streets of the Holy Land were even busier than when they first arrived.
Shia had already been waiting for some time.
After enduring an entire week of political meetings, the blue-haired girl was visibly exhausted—but the moment she saw Nao, all weariness vanished like mist.
Like a forest fawn, she leapt into his arms, and they held each other tightly, reluctant to part.
Just as they were preparing to depart, Nao suddenly realized something.
He looked left and right—but King Gallio VI, the ever-foolish king, was nowhere to be seen.
"Where is he?"
Nao approached one of Gallio's attendants and asked, confused.
"Didn't I tell him to pack up and be ready before noon?"
"Well… he said he wasn't ready to leave just yet. Took two guards with him and went out to explore town," the attendant replied, scratching his head. "But he promised to be back in an hour. It's been almost two. He should've returned by now…"
That was strange.
Gallio may have been an idiot, but he always kept his word and followed instructions.
Nao frowned. Did something happen to him?
"Bad news! Bad news!"
As if on cue, a panicked voice rang out from outside the courtyard.
Everyone from both royal entourages turned toward the noise.
A disheveled guard came sprinting in. The moment he saw Nao, he burst into tears and grabbed his arm.
"Sir Nao! H-His Majesty Gallio—he got into a fight with a Celestial Dragon in the street! We tried to stop him, but it was no use. They were furious—they've captured him!!"
"WHAT?!"
The Lotte Kingdom delegation turned pale. Nao's expression darkened.
He exchanged a glance with Shia, then turned back to the sobbing guard. Without hesitation, he spoke:
"Take me there. And explain exactly what happened—on the way."
...
Mary Geoise — Outer City, one bustling street
A grotesquely obese young Celestial Dragon lounged atop a giant slave, lazily riding down the main street. He held three iron chains in his hands.
Two chains were looped around the necks of young girls, no older than twelve or thirteen. Pale-faced and terrified, they struggled to free themselves.
But every time they resisted, a nearby guard whipped them savagely—flesh splitting, blood flying—until the girls gave up, tears and hopelessness in their eyes.
And the third chain?
It was dragging a motionless Gallio VI across the ground like a sack of garbage.
The street around them was eerily empty.
But from the alleyway nearby, a crowd had gathered to watch, whispering and gossiping.
"Is that… a king being dragged like a dog? What the hell happened?"
"Ugh, apparently Saint Bibical took a liking to two merchant girls—wanted to take them back as human chamber pots. That idiot king happened to pass by and saw the merchants begging on their knees..."
"So he stepped in?"
"Yeah. Tried to reason with Bibical, but that guy didn't even acknowledge him. The king got mad and tried to snatch the girls away—what happened next is obvious."
"Hahahaha, what an idiot. Probably used to being top dog in his little kingdom, didn't realize where he was. Who'd be dumb enough to go against a Celestial Dragon here?"
As they sneered and chuckled, none noticed the enormous shadow standing silently in the dark alley.
It was Bartholomew Kuma.
He watched the scene quietly—his gaze drifting from the girls being dragged away to the sneering onlookers.
He didn't speak. But sorrow flickered in his eyes.
The Celestial Dragons were disgusting, sure.
But the onlookers—the ones who had grown so used to this evil, who laughed at those who stood up to it—they were what sickened him most.
This world… was already rotten to the core.
Someone had to stand up and change it.
He suddenly recalled the man who had invited him a few months ago.
At the time, Kuma had hesitated. He even planned to send a refusal—thinking of his young daughter.
But now?
After this trip to Mary Geoise…
His thoughts were interrupted by sudden commotion nearby.
"Hey! Look over there!"
"Someone stopped Saint Bibical's entourage! Who the hell has the guts?!"
"No idea. Too far to see—but from the uniform… looks like a Marine?!"
"What?! A Marine?! No way—come on, let's get closer!"
Kuma blinked, startled.
Watching the crowd surge forward, he furrowed his brow—and slipped silently through the alley, heading toward the scene.
...
"Hey! Who the hell do you think you are, you blind bastard?! MOVE!"
"Don't you know this is Saint Bibical's palanquin?!"
At the street entrance, the Celestial Dragon's entourage had been halted. Seeing a young Marine standing in the way, the guards stepped forward and barked aggressively.
"Marine?"
Bibical, lying on his slave mount, lazily sat up.
He glanced at Nao—saw that it was a man—and lost interest, flopping back down without a word.
"I came because this is Saint Bibical's convoy," Nao said coolly.
His gaze swept across the bootlickers shouting at him, eyes sharp and cold.
"I heard there was an incident here—a king from a World Government member nation was mistakenly taken as a slave. I came to investigate."
He'd already learned the whole story on the way from Gallio's guard.
Two girls, barely teens, being dragged off to serve as human urinals—a horrifying act, but not surprising when it came to Celestial Dragons.
If it had happened right in front of him, Nao wouldn't have hesitated to intervene.
What surprised him, though, was Gallio VI—normally such a cheerful idiot—standing up to a Celestial Dragon. Publicly. And getting furious.
A total fool of a king... but this time, a damn brave one.
"Mistakenly?" one guard sneered, eyeing Nao from head to toe.
"That's just a stupid rumor. That moron offended Saint Bibical, so we're taking him back for 'correction.'"
"What? You dare question a Celestial Dragon's judgment?"
Nao frowned.
Before he could speak, another guard saw that he still wasn't stepping aside.
Impatient and sneering, the man raised his iron whip—and cracked it straight at Nao.
"You deaf or what?! GET OUT OF THE WAY!"