Ashura's Adam's apple bobbed up and down.
Twenty years of living undercover with a changed identity had accustomed him to surviving like rats in the sewers.
He had grown accustomed to hiding his emotions and thoughts, accustomed to moving silently through this dark world.
But at this moment, the child's innocent question pierced through all the defenses he had built up like a sharp sword.
That simple and direct question stirred ripples in his heart.
Kaido is a Yonko!
He's so powerful, how could they possibly succeed...
Suddenly, cheers came from the distance.
The Divine Kingdom warrior was standing on high ground, speaking.
"...His Majesty Ron once said, the rebellion of the oppressed is always the most righteous war!"
Sunlight fell upon him, outlining a resolute silhouette.
The Divine Kingdom emblem on his chest reflected a dazzling red light, a glow that seemed to symbolize a faith, invigorating the surrounding crowd.
A flash of determination crossed Ashura's single eye.
He crouched down, his rough hand gently resting on the boy's shoulder.
Though rough, those hands held a comforting strength. "Kid, take me to see your village chief."
His voice was hoarse yet firm.
In this moment, he had rediscovered his conviction.
Soon, in the shabby village chief's home, the lamplight flickered.
The dim yellow light wavered inside the room, illuminating the sparse furnishings.
Ashura untied the headband he had worn for twenty years, revealing thick pink hair.
Under the lamplight, it appeared somewhat disheveled yet carried a unique aura.
"I intended to hide like this until death..." He rubbed the gourd of sake that never left his side, a trace of bitterness in his eyes.
That gourd had been his companion for many years, accompanying him through countless lonely days.
"But seeing those Dragons... no, those warriors..."
The old village chief's trembling hands offered a cup of sake: "My lord, did you know? News came from Udon Mine today—a samurai named Kawamatsu has also appeared..."
The sake bowl suddenly shattered in Ashura's hand, the murky liquid flowing down the tattoo on his arm.
That tattoo was the family crest inked when the Nine Red Scabbards swore brotherhood, every stroke imbued with their beliefs and vows.
Now, the flowing sake resembled the hot blood they had once shed, reawakening the passion deep within him.
"Even that guy has been rescued..."
He suddenly threw his head back and laughed, a laughter carrying a freedom he hadn't felt in twenty years.
The laughter echoed through the room, as if releasing all the suppression and suffering of these years.
"Lord Oden, do you see? Is this the 'Dawn' you spoke of?" He murmured to the air, his eyes filled with reverence and anticipation.
Outside the window, another green Dragon swept across the sky.
The Dragon's figure appeared particularly magnificent under the sunlight.
Ashura abruptly stood up, his unsheathed sword, untouched for twenty years, emitting a clear, resonant ring.
"Go tell those people from the Divine Kingdom—" His eyes burned with a terrifying light, revealing a firm and resolute determination.
"Ashura Doji of the Nine Red Scabbards wishes to see their leader. We too shall join the ranks to overthrow Kaido!"
...
Flower Capital,
A quiet loft stood silently, within it permeating a solemn and oppressive atmosphere.
Denjiro and Kozuki Hiyori sat facing each other in an elegant tea room.
The half-open paper window, like a natural painting, drew the outside sunlight into the room.
Golden sunlight filtered through the window lattice, dappling the two figures, stretching their shadows long and longer.
The iron kettle on the tea stove emitted a faint hissing sound, its steaming vapor softly blurring Denjiro's furrowed brow, making his expression appear increasingly grave.
"Lord Denjiro," Kozuki Hiyori's slender fingers gently traced the rim of her teacup, "aside from our Flower Capital, the forces of the Beasts Pirates in other regions are collapsing like crumbling mountains, rapidly disintegrating."
She lifted her head slightly, her gaze piercing through the half-open paper window toward the distant horizon, where the faint shadows of Dragons could be seen sweeping past.
"Those mysterious warriors, descending like divine troops from heaven, are clearing away Kaido's lackeys for us."
Her eyes held a trace of bewilderment, probing the mystery behind it all.
Denjiro's fingertips unconsciously rubbed against the tsuba of his sword.
On the scabbard, the inscription "Ama no Habakiri" gleamed with a cold, ghostly light under the pale moonlight.
Twenty years of undercover life had carved deep marks on his face like an unrelenting chisel.
Rarely did he show such inner turmoil, as two voices fiercely clashed within him.
"Princess Hiyori," his voice was as hoarse as sandpaper grating on a rough surface, "Lord Oden's final prophecy foretold that the chosen one would save the Land of Wano... Are we not to abide by it now?"
"If we don't, then what meaning is there in all we've done..."
"I know!" Kozuki Hiyori abruptly cut him off.
Her teacup clattered onto the table, splashing drops of scalding tea onto her sleeve, yet she seemed oblivious.
Her eyes blazed with a fervent light, like burning flames, "To wait twenty years for the so-called chosen one—but look now... Look at the blazing night sky outside! Those are the flames of hope burning!"
"This opportunity comes once in a millennium!"
Denjiro's pupils contracted slightly, his gaze fixed intently on the princess.
He saw the resolute fire dancing in her eyes—not merely a reflection of the battle outside, but the will to resist, ignited after twenty years of silence.
This realization struck his heart like a boulder plunging into still waters, making it pound violently. His left hand, hidden in his sleeve, trembled involuntarily.
At this tense and solemn moment, hurried footsteps echoed from beyond the paper door, shattering the silence.
A samurai knelt hastily outside, his voice distorted with excitement.
"Lord Denjiro! Young Master Momonosuke... the young master has appeared on the streets! He's now heading to the shogun's residence with Daimyo Yamato!"
"What?!" Denjiro shot to his feet, overturning the tea table with a crash.
Scalding tea spilled onto the floor, sizzling, but he paid it no mind.
Twenty years of disguise crumbled like fragile bubbles in that instant.
The former Kyoshiro had returned!
He whipped his head around to look at Kozuki Hiyori.