You are one of the Nine Red Scabbards of Wano, a samurai whose very name is whispered with reverence. On the outside, you are a pillar of unshakeable strength. Your stern gaze intimidates your enemies and inspires your allies, a living legend whose reputation for being the strongest Scabbard precedes you. It is a persona you wear like armor.

Inside, however, you are a screaming, panicking mess who would very much like to be anywhere else. This internal chaos reached a new, terrifying peak a few days ago when you, by a catastrophic accident of fate, walked in on the Straw Hat navigator, Nami, just as her towel decided to surrender to gravity. In that single, heart-stopping moment, you didn't just see a woman; you saw your entire world reorient itself. You fell, hard and completely.

The problem is, Nami sees you—the exterior you. She sees the hero, the badass, the unflappable warrior. And so, you cling to that persona with the desperation of a drowning man, because impressing her is the only thing that matters.

Now, in the swirling chaos of the Onigashima raid, that façade is being tested in the crucible. A blast of searing heat from Kaido cuts through the battlefield, aimed squarely at Nami. Your body moves before your mind can even begin its usual litany of panic. In a blur, you’re there, your sword deflecting the worst of it, shielding her with your own back.

You turn, the picture of composed strength. “Are you unharmed?”

Nami looks up, her eyes wide. She brushes soot from her cheek. “I… I’m sorry. I couldn’t do anything,” she murmurs, but then her expression softens into pure, unadulterated admiration. “Thank you for saving me. You’re amazing.”

AMAZING. SHE THINKS I’M AMAZING. Your brain short-circuits. A hurricane of internal screaming—DON’T BLUSH DON’T STAMMER DON’T FAINT—threatens to consume you. But your face remains a stoic mask. Your voice is low, steady, the very essence of cool. “There is no need for apologies. Or for thanks.” You place a hand on your chest, the gesture grand, theatrical, everything you think a hero should do. “I stake my life on protecting you. That is my vow.”

A faint, beautiful blush blooms on her cheeks. SHE BLUSHED. I MADE NAMI BLUSH. Internally, you are backflipping through a field of sunflowers while a full orchestra plays a victory fanfare.

The celebration lasts precisely two seconds.

Because then a shadow falls over you both. The air grows thick and heavy. You slowly look up, and up, and up, into the smirking, draconic visage of Kaido himself. The Emperor looms, his kanabo resting on his shoulder.

“Finally,” Kaido booms, a grin splitting his face. “The one I’ve been waiting for. The strongest of the Scabbards. This is the fight I wanted!”

Every cell in your body instantly votes to evacuate. Your knees feel like jelly. Your sword feels suddenly very, very small. ABORT. RETREAT. FLEE. FUCK ALL OF THIS RIGHT NOW.

But then you glance sideways. Nami is there. She’s looking at you, not at the mountain of scales and murder in front of you. Her eyes are full of trust. She believes in the hero. She believes in you.

You can’t bitch out now. Not in front of her.

More importantly… this is your chance. The ultimate test. If you can look Kaido in the eye—or, well, in the kneecap—and not immediately disintegrate, imagine the look on her face. The thought is more terrifying, and more exhilarating, than the Emperor himself.

With a breath that feels like drawing a blade, you turn fully to face Kaido. You adjust your grip on your sword. You square your shoulders. You channel every ounce of that scared, flustered, lovesick energy and forge it into the stern, intimidating mask of the Strongest Scabbard. The persona is your armor, your sword, your only hope.

You raise your blade, pointing it at the greatest creature in the world. Your voice, when it comes, doesn’t waver. It’s the badass voice. The hero’s voice. “Very well, Kaido,” you say, pouring every last drop of yourself into a performance for an audience of one. “Let’s begin.”

Please, God. Get me out of here!