Inside Oden's mansion, the flicker of candlelight danced against the paper walls. The air was heavy with the bitter scent of crushed herbs and burnt poultices. The retainers of the Red Scabbards hurried back and forth, some carrying steaming bowls of water, others bearing rolls of bandages. A few knelt beside the injured, carefully replacing blood-soaked cloth with fresh wrappings.
Despite the ferocity of the earlier battle, Ritter and his companions had shown restraint. Their strikes cut deep, but always avoided fatal blows. With Marco's healing flames and Stella's steady hands, most of the Scabbards' wounds were already knitting together.
Oden himself was not so lucky. His body bore dozens of cuts, his ribs still ached from broken bone, and each movement drew a hiss of pain. Close by, Hyogoro the Flower who had been flung far across the battlefield by Whitebeard's overwhelming strength had only just dragged himself back, battered but alive.
"Ah easy there, Kawamatsu," Oden gritted his teeth, cold sweat beading on his brow as the fish-man pressed clean linen against his chest.
The loyal retainer froze at once, bowing his head in shame. "Forgive me, my lord! My hand was too heavy."
Across the room, Denjiro's expression darkened, his brows furrowed. "That Ritter… every wound he inflicted avoided a vital point. He knew exactly how far to go. Truly terrifying skill."
The large Cat Viper sat in the corner, chewing absently on bitter herbs. His voice was muffled but clear. "This ain't the time to be admirin' him. Still… we owe those outsiders. Without them, we'd all be in Kaido's chains right now."
He had used the word "boss" for Whitebeard a mark of respect, though not the same as the intimate "oyaji" Whitebeard's sons called him.
Dogstorm snorted, folding his arms. "Hmph. If they hadn't interfered, we'd have beaten Kaido eventually. No need to give them all the credit."
"Enough, Inuarashi." Oden's voice cut through the bickering. It was low, ragged with exhaustion, but firm as steel. "This time… the failure is mine."
The room fell silent. Every one of the Scabbards turned to him, eyes conflicted.
Slowly, Oden pushed himself upright. The pain twisted his features, but his gaze was clear, brighter than it had been in years. "I was too naïve. I thought patience and compromise could buy peace. Instead, I let Wano fall into ruin."
From the doorway, Ritter's dry voice slipped in like smoke: You've gained resolve, so why do you still stumble?
Oden clenched his fists. "But now, we still have a chance to set things right."
The paper doors slid open with a rasp, and a different presence filled the room. Ritter entered with his crew, Whitebeard towering at his side. Behind them came Marco, Stella, Tezoro, even Perona drifting along in her ghostly form.
"Well, well. Quite the scene," Ritter said, sweeping his eyes over the bustling Scabbards. He smirked, his tone half amusement, half mockery. "Looks like you're not quite dead yet, Oden."
Perona peeked around his shoulder, eyes wide at the sight of the bandaged daimyo. "Whoa he looks so pitiful~."
Marco sighed, gently pressing her head down. "Enough, little Perona. Show some respect."
Whitebeard stepped forward, shadow falling over Oden. His booming laugh rattled the room. "Gurararara! Foolish brat."
Oden managed a crooked smile. "Brother Newgate, you needn't mock me further… I've done a fine job of that myself."
Ritter dragged a chair across the tatami and swung it around, straddling it with his arms draped lazily over the backrest. The air seemed to sharpen as his smirk faded. "Enough pleasantries. We've wasted too much time already. It's time to talk business."
His eyes swept across everyone gathered, voice turning cold. "Kaido may have fled, but his claws are still sunk deep into this country. Orochi is in our hands, but Wano itself remains broken."
From the shadows, Tezoro spun a golden coin across his knuckles. "Our intel shows Kaido's empire still thrives his factories, his weapon forges. Those are his lifeline."
"Bah," Enel scoffed, cleaning out his ear with a finger. "A rabble of weaklings. One bolt from God himself, and they'd all burn."
Ritter shot him a glare. "Kaido won't sit idle. He'll be gathering reinforcements even now. Don't underestimate him."
His gaze returned to Oden. "So tell me what will you do?"
The daimyo drew in a deep breath. His eyes no longer wavered. "First, Orochi must face trial before the people. They deserve to see the Kurozumi line stripped of its stolen power. Second, Kaido's remnants must be rooted out. Every craftsman and laborer shackled to his chains must be freed. And finally…" His voice tightened. "…someday, the borders of Wano must open."
Whitebeard tilted his head, curious. "Not now? Why wait?"
"Because," Oden answered, shaking his head, "a closed nation rots from within. But if we open too soon, Wano will be defenseless. Roger once told me… this world is far wider than we ever imagined. When that prophecy comes to pass, I want the people of Wano to see it for themselves."
Ritter chuckled darkly. "Don't try to play the prophet, Oden. You're not half subtle enough."
Oden hesitated, then spoke softly, as if confessing a burden he had carried too long. "In the future, when that person from eight hundred years ago returns, this land must be ready to aid them. Hiyori carries the power to commune with Zunesha. And beneath Wano itself… lies Pluton, the Ancient Weapon. It is our duty "
"Enough," Ritter interrupted, waving a hand. His expression hardened. "If the day comes that I need Pluton, you'll support me without hesitation. That's all I ask."
The Scabbards stiffened, but Oden did not. He nodded firmly, without the faintest doubt. "You see further than I do, Ritter. If you call on me, I will open Wano's gates."
Ritter was silent for a moment. He had expected resistance. Instead, Oden's reply felt almost like loyalty. Perhaps there was more steel beneath his reckless bluster than he gave credit for.
Still, Ritter's grin returned, sharp and mischievous. "In that case, there's one more condition. Sell me Wano's special goods at a thirty percent discount."
Oden blinked. "What? Oh that's fine! I can even "
Ritter raised a finger to cut him off. "No freebies. What you really need to do now is earn back the trust you lost. Because of one fool dancing in the streets, your people abandoned you."
The words stung, and Oden's brows furrowed. "What do you mean?"
Ritter's eyes slid toward the Scabbards. "Denjiro, Kin'emon. Step forward."
The retainers obeyed, wary yet attentive. Ritter leaned in, voice dropping to a command. "Spread the word. Tell the people the truth: Oden was no fool. He endured humiliation, dancing like a madman, because every performance bought the lives of hostages held by Orochi and Kaido."
Denjiro's eyes widened. He dropped into a bow. "You mean… we should reveal "
"Yes," Ritter cut in, his voice sharp. "Make them understand. Every dance was a bargain to save their brothers, their children. Every jeer, every insult he carried it for them. Rise, Denjiro. I've no taste for empty bows."
Kawamatsu's voice trembled. "But… it's true. Oden-sama did do it for the hostages. We can prove it!"
"Exactly," Ritter said flatly. "The people never knew. They only saw a mad lord capering in the streets. Now make them see the sacrifice behind it."
Kin'emon's jaw tightened. At last, he nodded, resolute. "Understood. We'll see it done."
"Add detail," Ritter pressed. "Tell them each dance freed a hundred prisoners. Say Kaido threatened to slaughter the Flower Capital if Oden ever resisted. Make it real in their hearts. Only then will they repent."
The Scabbards bowed as one, scattering into the night to spread the tale.
And so the rumors began. At first, whispered disbelief. Then, the weight of proof testimonies of freed villagers, stories of relatives returned alive. Bit by bit, the truth spread like wildfire.
"They say every time Lord Oden danced, a hundred prisoners were spared…"
"My nephew came home because of him!"
"Kaido promised to bathe the Capital in blood if Oden fought back…"
Suspicion gave way to shock. Shock turned to grief. And grief, finally, to shame.
An old man in the crowd sank to his knees, tears streaking his face. "Lord Oden… forgive us! We wronged you!"
One after another, voices rose. People knelt in the dirt, heads bowed, their cries echoing through the streets. The same mouths that had once mocked him now called his name with reverence.
From the high platform, Ritter watched the tide of devotion swell. A thin smile curved his lips. "That's more like it."
Beside him, Oden's eyes brimmed with unfallen tears. He whispered hoarsely, "Ritter, I…"
"Spare me the sentiment," Ritter interrupted, clapping him on the shoulder. "Now stand tall. This is your chance. Take back your nation not as a clown, but as the hero they finally see you to be."
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