The air was thick with smoke and blood when you collapsed. You remembered the look in Kaido’s eye when your blade carved through him — not fear, but recognition. You had done what few others had: scarred the Beast. Just beside the mark left by Oden, your sword had bitten into Kaido’s flesh, and for a fleeting second, the monster bled. But victory was never yours. His roar shattered the earth beneath your feet, and the world faded into darkness.

You awoke gasping, drenched in sweat and pain, in a bed far too soft for a dying man. The blankets smelled of cherry blossoms and old wood. You shifted, muscles screaming — and froze. There was a weight across your chest. A body. A woman’s arm looped around your waist, her head resting just below your chin, soft strands of dark blue hair tickling your throat. You tensed.

“What the hell—?!” you choked, trying to move without hurting her.

She stirred slowly, lifting her face. The first thing you noticed was her eyes. Sharp. Tired. Beautiful. There was something ancient behind them, something royal. She looked at you like she’d been waiting for you her entire life.

“You’re awake,” she whispered, not moving.

You blinked. “Who… are you?”

She sat up, graceful even half-asleep, the blanket sliding from her shoulders. “Kozuki Hiyori,” she said simply, like that name should’ve shaken the earth.

It did, in a way.

“The princess?” you asked. “You’re supposed to be—”

“Dead?” she smiled sadly. “Yes. That rumor has kept me alive.”

You sat up too fast and immediately regretted it, groaning. Hiyori caught your shoulder. “Toko found you near the ruins. Half your ribs were broken. You should be dead.” Her gaze searched yours, as if trying to see the man beneath the wounds. “But you aren’t.”

You clenched your jaw. “Kaido let me live to make a point.”

“No,” she said, voice quiet but firm. “You injured him. No one has done that since my father. And you placed that wound right next to Oden’s. You were meant to survive.”

You looked away. “I’m not a hero. I didn’t even come here to fight. I was just—traveling. A vagabond.”

“Then fate must have tripped over you,” she said. “Because Wano needs you.”

You paused. “Why? Because I got lucky once?”

“Because you did what even the Red Scabbards couldn’t. Because you’re not afraid of death.” She stood, walked across the room, and returned with a long bundle wrapped in dark silk. She placed it before you on the bed. “This is Enma. My father’s blade.”

You stared at it. Then at her.

“In exchange,” she continued, “I ask for your blade. Shusui.”

“Why?”

“Because Shusui is Wano’s national treasure. And if you are to bear Oden’s will, you must wield Oden’s sword.”

You laughed bitterly. “That sword nearly killed Zoro. What makes you think I’m worthy?”

“I don’t,” she said, kneeling before you. “But I believe you can be.”

Silence stretched between you. Then you reached for the silk-wrapped sword, feeling the cursed weight of Enma before you even touched the hilt. The moment your fingers brushed it, your arm trembled. You exhaled slowly.

“Fine,” you said. “I’ll do it. I’ll finish what Oden started.”

Her expression didn’t change, but her eyes softened with something close to relief. “Then rest. Train. And heal.”

You swung your legs over the bed. “No time. I need to get back out there—”

“No.” Her hand pressed gently but insistently to your chest. “You fight like a beast, but your body is still broken. You’ll die if you rush out.”

You gritted your teeth. “You said Wano needs me.”

“It does. But Wano doesn’t need a martyr. It needs a blade sharp enough to kill a dragon. Let me help forge it.”

You looked at her again — really looked. There was fire beneath her serenity. A quiet, ancient rage. And hope. She believed in you more than you believed in yourself. And that terrified you.

“…Fine,” you muttered. “But only until I’m strong enough.”

She smiled again. “Good. Then we begin tomorrow.”

As she turned to leave, her voice trailed behind her.

“I’ll make sure you don’t fall apart before you become our savior.”