Chapter 172: The Flower Capital!
He turned his head and looked at Suzaku again, his sharp eyes holding a trace of scrutiny and a trace of desperate hope hidden deep within his pupils.
The old man, hiding his identity behind the long-nosed Tengu mask, felt a tremor run through his aged hands.
For twenty years, he had lived in the shadows, watching his beloved country turn into a hellscape of factories and pollution.
"If..." Sukiyaki's voice rasped, heavy with the weight of two decades of silence. "If the matter of you defeating Kaido is true... if a monster like that can truly be brought down by human hands... then handing Wano Country over to you... perhaps... perhaps it really can save this nation that is rotten to the core."
It was a gamble. A massive, terrifying gamble. But looking at the man before him, who exuded an aura of absolute authority that eclipsed even the Shoguns of old, Sukiyaki felt a sensation he thought he had lost forever: belief.
"General-sama, it's true!"
Nekomamushi interjected excitedly, unable to contain the vibrations of his own voice. The large cat Mink stepped forward, his eyes wide and earnest, desperate to convince the former ruler.
"I saw it with my own eyes! Hashirama-sama..." Nekomamushi gestured wildly toward the smiling, wood-style user. "He truly defeated Kaido completely! It wasn't a trick, and it wasn't a narrow victory. It was total domination, all by himself! This time, it's different, Tenguyama-dono! This time, we will definitely defeat Kaido and Kurozumi Orochi, and allow Wano Country to be reborn from these ashes!"
The conviction in Nekomamushi's voice was infectious. After receiving such firm confirmation from an old acquaintance—a retainer who had served his son, Oden—the last trace of doubt in Sukiyaki's eyes finally vanished. The cynicism that had built up over years of watching failed rebellions crumbled.
He slowly nodded, the movement stiff from age and hesitation. He spoke as if to Suzaku, and also to himself, whispering a prayer to the ancestors he had failed.
"Then... I wish you success in battle. May the fortunes of Wano be with you."
Having said that, the old man adjusted the grip on his kitetsu sword, his shoulders slumping slightly as if the conversation had drained his remaining energy. He turned around, preparing to take O-Tama and return to his secluded little world—his hut in the bamboo forest where he could pretend the world wasn't burning.
However, Suzaku had no intention of letting him off the hook so easily.
"Wait a moment."
Suzaku's voice was calm, not loud, but it carried an invisible weight that froze the air. It was a tone that brooked no argument, a command from a superior to a subordinate.
"Since you are a descendant of the Kozuki Family and the former ruler of Wano Country, from today onward, you are my subject. As my subject, trying to escape reality is unacceptable."
The words struck Sukiyaki like a physical blow. He stopped in his tracks, his back stiffening. He slowly turned around, looking at the young man in confusion and shock.
"What do you mean?"
"It means you must demonstrate your due worth."
Suzaku's gaze swept across the desolate land of Kuri—the withered trees, the poisoned purple river, the cracked earth that could no longer grow crops. His eyes reflected the misery of the landscape, and his tone became serious, cutting through the old man's defenses.
"Once we completely deal with Kaido and Orochi, the reconstruction of Wano Country will require someone to oversee it. I am a conqueror, but I need administrators. You, as the former Shogun, possess the knowledge and the lineage."
Suzaku took a step forward, his presence looming large.
"You must step forward. You must lead the displaced populace. You must reclaim this polluted land, inch by inch, and restore the beauty you allowed to be destroyed. This is what you owe this country."
He paused, letting the weight of the responsibility settle on Sukiyaki's shoulders, then added coldly: "If you cannot do it, or are unwilling to do it because you prefer to hide in your forest... then... my nation does not welcome the useless."
Sukiyaki was stunned. He stood there, mouth slightly agape beneath his mask.
He had thought he was already an outsider, a ghost of the past who had no place in the future. He hadn't expected the other party not only wouldn't let him go, but also directly assigned him such a heavy task—a task of redemption.
An undeniable command.
"Me... lead them?" Sukiyaki thought, panic rising in his chest. I am the one who lost this country. I am the failure who let Orochi in.
He subconsciously wanted to refuse. Every instinct in his body screamed at him to run, to return to his anonymity, to continue his life of complete evasion where the shame couldn't find him.
But just then, he felt his sleeve being gently tugged.
The tug was weak, lacking strength, but it anchored him to the spot.
Looking down, he saw O-Tama. The little girl raised her innocent little face, gazing at him with her large, exceptionally clear eyes. Despite her hunger, despite the patches on her clothes, those eyes were filled with admiration and trust. She didn't see a failure; she saw her grandpa, her protector.
"Grandpa?" she whispered, sensing his distress.
Looking at O-Tama, seeing the malnutrition etched into her features... and then looking at the group of unfathomable powerhouses before him...
Finally, looking toward this homeland he deeply loved yet felt despair for... the blood that had long dried up in Sukiyaki's heart seemed to warm up again. It began to pump with a vigor he hadn't felt since before Oden died.
Perhaps... for O-Tama.
For the future of this nation where children wouldn't have to drink poisoned water.
He truly shouldn't run away anymore.
He took a deep breath, the air whistling through the vents of his mask, as if exhaling twenty years of despondency, cowardice, and helplessness.
And finally, he nodded heavily and resolutely toward Suzaku.
"...I understand. I will do it."
Suzaku was noncommittal regarding Sukiyaki's heavy and determined nod. He didn't offer praise for doing what was expected.
He merely turned his gaze to the little girl who had been clutching Sukiyaki's sleeve the entire time, O-Tama.
"A commendable resolve."
Suzaku's voice betrayed no emotion, as if he were simply stating a fact, analyzing the utility of a new asset.
"And what about you?"
He looked down at the child.
"O-Tama, you are also willing to contribute your strength to make this nation better, aren't you?"
The question was abrupt, yet carried an undeniable authority. It treated the child not as a victim, but as a citizen with agency.
Sukiyaki's heart tightened, and he subconsciously pulled O-Tama behind him, his protective instincts flaring.
However, O-Tama poked her little head out from behind his leg. Her small face was sallow from long-term malnutrition, her cheeks hollow, but her large eyes shone astonishingly bright—brighter than any gemstone Nami possessed.
Without the slightest hesitation, she answered loudly with all her strength, her small voice echoing across the barren field:
"Of course! If it's for everyone, and to make sure everyone can eat until they're full... I'm willing to do anything!"
Her childish voice was clear and resonant, carrying a purity of spirit that silenced the adults around her.
"Very good."
Suzaku finally revealed a satisfied smile. The cold calculation melted away for a brief second, replaced by genuine approval.
He reached out and gently patted O-Tama's purple hair.
The gesture wasn't like comforting a helpless child; it was more like a monarch rewarding a future vassal who had shown promise.
"Rem," he ordered without turning his head, his gaze still on the girl.
"Distribute a portion of our stored food and leave it for the village. Starting today, they are my subjects, and my subjects do not starve."
"Yes, Lord Suzaku."
Rem, dressed in her pristine maid outfit which contrasted sharply with the dusty surroundings, bowed elegantly to accept the order.
"Please, follow me," she directed the nearby Mink Tribe warriors.
Leading several burly Mink warriors, she moved with practiced efficiency. They carried heavy sacks of high-quality white rice, large chunks of smoked meat that glistened with fat, and various long-shelf-life foods off the Pola.
They stacked them neatly in the open area at the village entrance, creating a literal pyramid of salvation.
The food piled up like a mountain. The sacks were opened, and the scent of raw, unpolished rice drifted through the air, mixing with the rich, smoky aroma of the meat.
It was an intoxicating smell.
The villagers of Amigasa Village, who had been watching from the shadows with fear, slowly crept out. Including Sukiyaki, who had just rekindled a sliver of hope, they were all dumbfounded.
They stood frozen, their bodies trembling.
They all widened their eyes, staring intently at the mountain of food as if it were a mirage that would vanish if they blinked.
Gulp.
A "gudong" swallowing sound echoed in their throats, a collective reflex of starving bodies.
This... This is...
In Wano Country, under the tyrannical rule of Kaido and Orochi, clean, non-poisoned grain was a hard currency more precious than gold!
For them, the "lowly commoners" living in Kuri, surviving on leftovers and poisoned water, even a clean bowl of rice was usually a luxury reserved for festivals or deathbeds.
When had they ever seen so much food in one place?
For a moment, the entire village fell into a deathly silence. No one moved. No one cheered. The shock was too great.
It wasn't until Suzaku and his group's figures had turned and disappeared at the end of the path, heading toward the Capital, that the reality set in.
The Village Chief awoke as if from a dream.
Trembling all over, his legs gave out. He suddenly dropped heavily to his knees in the direction Suzaku had left, his forehead striking the hard, cracked ground with a loud "bang."
"God... Oh, gods! Kami-sama has not abandoned us!"
Old tears streamed down his wrinkled face, washing away the dirt, and he choked with sobs that racked his frail body.
Led by him, all the villagers behind him—men, women, and children—regardless of age, uniformly knelt on the ground.
Thud. Thud. Thud.
They kowtowed repeatedly in that direction, their heads hitting the earth in a rhythm of profound gratitude.
They didn't know the names of those people. They didn't know if they were pirates or gods. Nor did they understand what they intended to do at the Capital.
But they knew one thing.
That pile of food was the hope that would let them live through the winter! It was life itself!
This was a gift, a gift from their new master...
...
The Flower Capital.
The contrast was jarring enough to cause whiplash.
Leaving the desolate, grey ruins of Kuri behind, the group arrived at the heart of the nation. It was like stepping into a different world.
Here, the sky seemed bluer, though only artificially so. Cherry blossom petals drifted on the wind like pink snow. The architecture was pristine, painted in vibrant reds and golds. Music—shamisen and drums—wafted from the tea houses and geisha districts.
It was beautiful. It was prosperous.
And it was built on the suffering of the rest of the country.
Beneath the tall, imposing city gate, the symbol of Orochi's power, several samurai in uniform were leaning against the wall out of boredom. They picked their teeth, laughing amongst themselves, scrutinizing everyone who entered and exited with arrogant, judging eyes.
When Suzaku and his group appeared on the main road, the atmosphere shifted.
Their strange, outlandish clothing—Suzaku's coat, Albedo's armor, Nami's modern fashion—was completely out of place in the isolationist Wano Country.
Along with their extraordinary temperament, which radiated confidence and power, they immediately alerted the gate-guarding samurai.
A samurai as thin as a bamboo pole, clearly high on his own minor authority, stepped forward. He propped his spear on the ground with a loud "clang," blocking the center of the road.
He lazily blocked their path, looking them up and down with a sneer.
"Hey! Stop right there! Where are you people from? Where is your registration permit? No strangers allowed in the Capital!"
His gaze didn't stay on Suzaku. Instead, it shamelessly swept over the women.
He eyed Nami's exposed skin, his eyes lingering on her curves. He looked at Albedo's ethereal beauty and the strange wings on her waist. He looked at Esdeath's imposing uniform and long legs.
A frivolous, disgusting smile played on his lips, revealing yellowed teeth.
"Look at your outfits... are you performers from outside? Or spies from somewhere trying to sneak in?" He chuckled, glancing at his comrades. "Though with looks like that, maybe we can overlook the permit if you keep us company..."
The air suddenly grew heavy.
"Impudence!"
Before Suzaku could even bother to speak, Albedo's cold rebuke rang out like a gavel sentencing a criminal.
Murderous intent, thick and suffocating, flashed across her golden vertical pupils. To insult the Supreme One's entourage was a sin punishable by death; to look at them with such filth was blasphemy.
Esdeath was even more direct.
She didn't shout. Instead, a bloodthirsty, sadistic curve appeared at the corner of her mouth. Her ice-blue eyes lit up with the thrill of a predator finding prey that volunteered to be killed.
Her right hand already loosely gripped her sword hilt, her fingers twitching with anticipation.
"Oh? To think the first greeting we receive is from such trash," Esdeath whispered, her voice carrying a chilling resonance.
The temperature around the gate plummeted instantly. Frost began to creep along the stone walls, and the arrogant smiles on the samurai's faces froze as the air instantly dropped to freezing point.
[Akarin Note:
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