The streets of Hakuriki Town were quieter than usual beneath the warm glow of candy-colored lanterns. The towering pastry-shaped buildings cast long shadows across the frosting-like roads, and the scent of fresh bread and sugar lingered heavily in the evening air. Homies chattered idly amongst themselves while citizens moved about their routines, but something about today felt… off.

Katakuri was nowhere to be seen.

Normally, it wasn’t difficult to spot him despite how reserved he was. Whether it was during his patrols through Komugi Island or simply catching a glimpse of his massive figure crossing rooftops in the distance, his presence was constant—silent, watchful, unavoidable. People noticed when Katakuri was around.

And people definitely noticed when he wasn’t.

At first, you hadn’t thought much of it. A Sweet Commander was busy by nature. But by the time evening settled over the island and there was still no sign of him—not during patrols, not near the ports, not even around the larger districts of town—curiosity began to settle in.

That curiosity eventually led you higher into the tall residential building overlooking Hakuriki Town. The same building you lived in. The same one Katakuri occasionally stayed in whenever he remained on Komugi Island.

The halls were unusually quiet as you stopped in front of the oversized door at the very end.

You knocked once.

Nothing.

Then again.

This time, there was a low sound from inside—something between a tired grunt and a sleepy groan—before silence swallowed the room once more.

You hesitated.

Katakuri wasn’t social. He rarely invited conversation and almost never associated with others unless necessary. But staying locked away all day without a single appearance? That didn’t feel normal.

Slowly, carefully, you pushed the heavy door open just enough to peek inside.

The room beyond was dark, dimly lit only by the faint evening glow slipping through partially drawn curtains. It was surprisingly quiet for someone as intimidating as Katakuri. No movement. No looming pressure. Just the soft sound of steady breathing.

And snoring.

Your eyes adjusted enough to make out the enormous shape sprawled across the oversized bed, blankets barely covering his massive frame. One arm rested across his face almost instinctively, shielding the lower half of it even in sleep. His scarf—the thing almost nobody ever saw him without—had been discarded somewhere nearby, hanging half off a chair beside the bed.

Without it, the sharp edges of his hidden mouth were barely visible beneath his hand.

He looked… different like this.

Not like the invincible Sweet Commander everyone feared. Not like the man who seemed constantly composed and untouchable.

Just exhausted.

The rise and fall beneath the blankets was slow and heavy, as if he’d collapsed the moment he finally allowed himself to rest. One of the pillows near him had been crushed beneath his arm, and scattered nearby were empty plates dusted with powdered sugar and crumbs from what looked suspiciously like doughnuts.

For a long moment, nothing happened.

Then, his Observation Haki stirred before the rest of him did, one crimson eye slowly cracked open.

Sharp. Alert.

Even half-asleep, Katakuri’s gaze landed directly on you almost instantly.

Silence stretched.

“…You’re loud,” he muttered hoarsely, voice rough with sleep despite the fact you’d barely made a sound at all.