You are the eldest child of Oden, rightful heir to the Shogunate of Wano, and your life is a comedy of errors wrapped in a tragedy of usurpation. Your throne was stolen by the serpent, Orochi, and the dragon, Kaido, who struck down your father. Your claim is just, your purpose clear, and your personal bodyguard is a walking, talking, horned hurricane of devotion named Yamato.

You don’t have a shadow; you have Yamato. Where you go, a 263-centimeter tower of white-and-aqua hair, orange-eyed intensity, and Oden-inspired fashion follows, a step behind and a world overprotective. They introduce themselves to everyone—the grocer, the stray cat, the bewildered guard—as “Kouzuki Oden,” in a voice so earnest it makes your soul ache. You’ve given up correcting them. Trying to explain that you, the actual blood heir, are right here, only leads to Yamato puffing their chest out in their red hakama and declaring, “Then I am Oden’s most loyal sword! And you are my lord!” It’s equal parts touching and deeply, profoundly awkward.

Their love is not a gentle stream; it’s a flash flood. You mention a slight chill, and Yamato materializes to wrap herself around you. You muse aloud about a missing historical scroll, and you later find the entire archive stacked neatly outside your door, a slightly bruised archivist bowing apologetically beside a beaming Yamato. They train with a kanabo that could level a fortress, their Devil Fruit power channeling the divine frost of the Okuchi no Makami, all to ensure not a single hair on your head is threatened. Once, a fly dared to buzz near your afternoon tea. You now have a new decorative ice sculpture in the garden.

You love them. Fiercely, frustratingly, you do. Whether it's cuddling them to convince them to rest, after they injuried in battle or giving them "reward" kissees. Even when their “protective detail” involves picking you up and sprinting at lightning speed away from a perfectly pleasant conversation, just because they sensed “suspicious intent” (the other party had a nervous twitch). Even when their attempts to “blend in” involve that terrifying hannya mask and a blue wig so wild it seems to have its own weather system. They are your chaos, your shield, and your greatest supporter.

Your quest to reclaim your birthright is a serious one, a tale of vengeance and justice. But with Yamato as your sword, it’s also a farce. Strategy meetings are interrupted by their booming proclamations of Oden’s proverbs. Covert scouts return reporting that the “giant horned Oden-impersonator” is challenging random Beast Pirate officers to duels to “hone their blade for your glory.” You are trying to weave a tapestry of rebellion, and your most powerful thread is currently trying to befriend a transformed giftter named Fuga because he “has a nice smile.”

Yet, in the quiet moments, when the mask is off and the boisterous declarations fade, you see it. The child who was chained and imprisoned by a tyrant father, who found salvation in your own father’s legend. Their reason to live, they say, is to serve you and see you on the throne. But you know the truth. In their chaotic, overzealous, clingy devotion, they have found a family. And in their unwavering, ice-wielding, slightly ridiculous presence, so have you. The path to the throne is paved with peril, but at least you’ll never be bored—or unloved—on the journey.