-Real World -
Kozuki Hiyori's sentimentality was a luxury her brother could never afford. Not because Momonosuke was stronger or braver, but because his circumstances had become exponentially more dangerous the moment the Sky Screen exposed his location.
Admiral Kizaru and Saint Figarland Garlin had both scoured Punk Hazard's ruins searching for the boy. They'd torn through the material storage area, investigated every potential hiding spot, questioned survivors about any children seen on the island. But they'd found nothing.
Not because Momonosuke had cleverly evaded them. He hadn't escaped through brilliant strategy or impressive stealth. Rather, someone had taken the initiative to move him before the hunters arrived—pulling him from the garbage dump that had been both prison and refuge for six months.
That someone was Foxfire Kin'emon, leader of the Nine Red Scabbards. One of Kozuki Oden's most loyal retainers.
Currently, that legendary samurai was huddled in a snow cave with his lord's son, both of them shivering despite being pressed together for warmth.
The hiding spot was crude but effective. Foxfire Kin'emon had carved it from a glacier on Punk Hazard's. The cave's interior temperature hovered around zero degrees Celsius. Freezing by any reasonable standard, but practically tropical compared to the exterior environment where temperatures regularly plunged to minus forty or worse.
This was the best shelter Kin'emon could provide under the circumstances.
Escaping Punk Hazard by sea had proven impossible. The moment the Sky Screen revealed Momonosuke's presence, Marine ships had formed a blockade around the entire island. Every vessel attempting to leave faced thorough inspection. Every person trying to depart was interrogated and searched.
The branch Marines who'd previously staffed the facility were now under investigation themselves—suspected of complicity in Caesar Clown's illegal experiments. Vice Admiral Vergo's exposure as a traitor had contaminated the entire command structure. No one trusted anyone. The local Marines could barely protect themselves, let alone smuggle outsiders past the blockade.
Elite forces dispatched from Marine Headquarters had taken over operations. They swept the island systematically, capturing escaped experimental subjects, dismantling Caesar's remaining equipment, and most importantly: hunting for Kozuki Momonosuke.
The boy whose future accomplishments the Sky Screen had broadcast so prominently. The child who might become a weapon against the Yonko. The potential key to understanding ancient bloodlines and lost abilities.
They would not stop searching until they found him.
Inside the snow cave, Kozuki Momonosuke's voice cut through the silence with whining petulance.
"Kin'emon, I'm so hungry. Can't you go find food? It's cold here. I'm starving. I'm going to die if you don't get me something to eat right now."
Foxfire Kin'emon, huddled against the cave wall with the eight-year-old pressed against his side for shared warmth, suppressed a sigh. This conversation had repeated multiple times over the past few days, and his patience was wearing dangerously thin.
This is Kozuki Oden's son, he reminded himself firmly. I swore to protect him. To serve the Kozuki bloodline. I must endure.
But endurance was becoming increasingly difficult.
"Your Highness," Kin'emon said, keeping his tone as respectful as possible despite his frustration. "Please wait until nightfall. I'll search for food then. During daylight hours, the risk of detection is too high. If the Marines spot me, we're both dead."
It was a reasonable explanation. A logical strategy that any sensible person—even a child—should understand.
Momonosuke clearly didn't care about logic.
"You're just being lazy!" the boy accused, his voice rising shrilly. "You don't want to go out there because it's cold. But I'm your lord! You're supposed to serve me! If you don't obey, I'll—I'll punish you when I become Shogun!"
The entitlement in that statement was breathtaking.
Kin'emon closed his eyes, counting silently to ten before opening them again. His Kenbunshoku Haki remained active despite his emotional turmoil, monitoring the area around their cave. He could sense Marine patrols roughly three hundred meters away—close enough to be concerning, but not immediate threats.
When did it become like this? Kin'emon thought bitterly. When did Kozuki-sama's son become so...
He couldn't finish the thought. Loyalty demanded he not complete that sentence, even mentally.
But the truth was unavoidable: Kozuki Momonosuke was nothing like what the Sky Screen had portrayed.
The future version shown in those broadcasts had been impressive—strategic, determined, willing to make difficult choices and endure hardship for the greater good. That Momonosuke had inspired respect, demonstrated leadership potential, and carried himself with dignity befitting his bloodline.
The real Momonosuke was... not that.
Lazy. Cowardly. Greedy. Bratty. Utterly convinced of his own importance despite having accomplished nothing. The boy seemed to have inherited all of Kozuki Oden's worst qualities—his arrogance, his impulsiveness, his inability to read situations—while somehow missing all of his father's redeeming virtues.
Oden had been brave, at least. Genuinely courageous in the face of danger. Willing to sacrifice himself for others.
Momonosuke was brave only when safely hidden behind protectors.
Perhaps it's just his age, Kin'emon tried to rationalize. He's only eight. Children are often selfish and shortsighted. With proper guidance and training, he might still develop into the person shown in the Sky Screen.
But even as he thought it, Kin'emon didn't quite believe it.
"I'm. So. Hungry!" Momonosuke punctuated each word with a kick against Kin'emon's ribs. Not hard enough to actually injure—the boy lacked the strength—but annoying enough to disrupt the carefully maintained warmth they'd cultivated. "Stop being lazy and go get food now! That's an order!"
The heat they'd preserved through shared body warmth began dissipating as Momonosuke thrashed and kicked. Cold air rushed into the gaps created by his movement. The temperature, already barely above freezing, dropped noticeably.
Kin'emon felt something inside him crack.
"Your Highness." His voice came out harder than intended. "Please. Stop. Making. Trouble."
Momonosuke paused mid-kick, sensing the shift in tone but too self-absorbed to properly interpret it.
"You need to mature," Kin'emon continued, his words clipped and cold. "Act your age—no, act older than your age. Our situation is desperate. If I go out now and get captured, I won't be coming back. And then what will you do? Eat snow to fill your stomach? Freeze alone in this cave? Starve slowly over days while waiting for rescue that will never come?"
The boy's face paled. For perhaps the first time, genuine fear flickered in his eyes.
"I—I didn't mean—"
"Do you understand what I'm saying?" Kin'emon's voice rose slightly. Not quite shouting, but approaching it. Decades of discipline struggled against mounting frustration. "Without me, you die. Quickly or slowly, but you die. So when I tell you we must wait for nightfall, when I explain that daylight movement is too dangerous, you need to listen instead of throwing tantrums like a spoiled noble's brat!"
The rare display of anger—the samurai's carefully maintained composure finally fracturing—had an immediate effect.
Momonosuke scrambled backward, pressing himself against the far wall of the snow cave. His eyes went wide. His mouth hung open. For several seconds, he simply stared at Kin'emon as if seeing him for the first time.
He's realizing, Kin'emon thought with grim satisfaction. Finally realizing that I could hurt him if I chose to. That loyalty to his dead father is the only thing keeping him alive.
The thought should have brought shame. A loyal retainer wasn't supposed to feel satisfaction at frightening their young lord. But Kin'emon was too exhausted, too frustrated, too disappointed to care about proper samurai etiquette anymore.
Silence filled the cave. Momonosuke remained pressed against the wall, tears gathering in his eyes but not yet falling. His entire body trembled—from cold, fear, or both.
Eventually, he spoke in a tiny, subdued voice: "I'm sorry, Kin'emon-dono."
The honorific was back. The entitled arrogance temporarily beaten down by reality. This was probably the most genuine moment of humility Momonosuke had shown since their reunion.
And it took me shouting at him to achieve it, Kin'emon thought bitterly. What does that say about his character?
He forced himself to take several deep breaths, calming the anger that had erupted so uncharacteristically. Anger was dangerous. It clouded judgment, created mistakes. A samurai needed to maintain emotional control at all times.
But gods, it was difficult right now.
"Come back here," Kin'emon finally said, his tone carefully neutral. "We need to share warmth or we'll both freeze. And Your Highness? No more complaints until after dark. Understand?"
Momonosuke nodded frantically and scurried back to Kin'emon's side, pressing close for warmth. The boy remained blessedly silent, apparently shocked into temporary obedience.
As they settled back into position, Kin'emon's mind wandered to troubling territory.
The Momonosuke in the Sky Screen and the Momonosuke beside me are completely different people.
The disparity was stark. Almost unbelievable. If he hadn't personally witnessed both versions—seen the future broadcasts and lived with the current reality—Kin'emon would have assumed they were discussing different individuals entirely.
What could possibly transform this whining, entitled brat into the determined young man shown in those future segments? What experiences would force such a dramatic personality shift?
His thoughts drifted to one particularly disturbing detail from Momonosuke's Sky Screen survival story. The boy's time hiding in Punk Hazard's material storage room. Six months living among corpses. Surviving by...
By eating them.
The realization crystallized with horrifying clarity.
That was the difference. That was the transformation catalyst. The future Momonosuke had been forced to commit an act so traumatic, so fundamentally violating of human taboo, that it had shattered and rebuilt his entire personality.
Cannibalism didn't just provide physical sustenance. It destroyed innocence. Killed the entitled child who'd been raised in comfort and safety. Forced confrontation with mortality, desperation, and the darkest aspects of survival at any cost.
The Momonosuke currently pressed against his side for warmth had never experienced that breaking point. He'd been rescued from the garbage dump before desperation drove him to such extremes. Kin'emon had saved him—pulled him from that hell before he needed to make the choice that would have defined him.
Did I make a mistake? The question was monstrous, but Kin'emon couldn't stop thinking it. By rescuing him too soon, did I prevent the transformation that would have made him worthy of leadership?
The current Momonosuke didn't possess the artificial Devil Fruit—Vegapunk's prototype dragon power still hidden somewhere in Caesar's laboratory. With Marine forces now controlling the facility, the chances of obtaining that fruit had dropped to near zero. That potential advantage was likely lost forever.
And without the trauma. Without the fruit. Without the experiences that had forged the future version...
What am I protecting? A spoiled child who will become another Kurozumi Orochi if he somehow reclaims the Shogunate? A weak-willed leader who'll spend his reign indulging vices while the nation suffers?
The thoughts were treasonous. Disloyal. Everything a samurai shouldn't think about their sworn lord.
But Kin'emon couldn't deny their truth.
A disturbing possibility emerged from his dark musings: Should I force the transformation myself? Drag a corpse into this cave and make him eat it? Break him down and rebuild him the way trauma rebuilt the future version?
The idea was horrific. Unthinkable. He'd be deliberately inflicting psychological damage on a child—destroying whatever innocence remained, creating trauma that would never fully heal.
But would it be worth it? If that trauma created a leader capable of liberating Wano Country, of facing Kaido successfully, of fulfilling the destiny the Sky Screen suggested...
Could I justify that cruelty as necessary?
Kin'emon's hands clenched into fists. His jaw tightened. Everything he'd believed about honor, about proper treatment of one's lord, about the sanctity of the master-servant bond...
All of it was being tested.
"Kin'emon-dono?" Momonosuke's small voice interrupted the dark spiral of thoughts. "Are you angry with me still?"
The samurai looked down at the boy pressed against his side. Eight years old. Frightened. Dependent. Completely vulnerable.
Kozuki Oden trusted me to protect his son, Kin'emon reminded himself. Not to torture him into becoming someone different. To protect him.
But protection could take many forms.
"I'm not angry," Kin'emon lied smoothly. "Just concerned for our survival. Rest now, Your Highness. Save your strength for when we need to move."
Momonosuke nodded and closed his eyes, apparently reassured. Within minutes, exhaustion dragged the boy toward sleep.
Kin'emon remained awake, his Kenbunshoku Haki monitoring their surroundings while his mind continued wrestling with impossible decisions.
I will train him properly from now on, he decided firmly. No more indulgence. No more allowing tantrums and entitlement. If the future version could be forged through hardship, then hardship is what I'll provide—controlled, measured, but unrelenting.
I won't force cannibalism. That's too far. But everything else...
Everything else is fair game.
The warm heart that had sustained Kin'emon's loyalty for decades grew colder. Not extinguished—he would never abandon his sworn duty—but hardened. Tempered into something more ruthless and pragmatic.
Kozuki Momonosuke would learn discipline. Would face the reality of their situation. Would be pushed beyond his comfort zone again and again until he either broke or became stronger.
And if he broke?
Then he wasn't worthy of the Kozuki name anyway.
-Real World - Marine Headquarters, Marineford-
Fleet Admiral Sengoku studied the reports from Punk Hazard with growing frustration. Three weeks of intensive searching had yielded nothing. Kozuki Momonosuke remained missing despite thousands of man-hours invested in the hunt.
"He's still on the island," Sengoku said with absolute certainty. "A child that age couldn't have escaped the blockade. No vessels left after we established perimeter control. He's hiding somewhere we haven't checked thoroughly enough."
Vice Admiral Tsuru nodded agreement. "We need a tracking specialist. Someone with abilities specifically suited to finding hidden targets in hostile environments."
Sengoku was already writing orders. "I'll dispatch someone from headquarters. This is too important to leave to branch Marines or standard search parties."
Because if they found Kozuki Momonosuke, the benefits to the Marine would be substantial. Caesar Clown, despite his criminal status, remained valuable to their research programs. A child with potentially significant bloodline factors, carrying an artificial Devil Fruit (if he'd consumed it), and connected to the mysterious Hyūga Clan?
Caesar could extract incredible data from such a subject.
It was cruel. Coldly pragmatic. The kind of decision that made Sengoku question his own humanity.
But it would benefit the Marine's capabilities immensely.
I'm sorry, Kozuki Oden, Sengoku thought without real remorse. Your son is too valuable as research material. Personal feelings can't override strategic advantage.
The hunt would continue. Intensify, even. And when they finally found that boy shivering in whatever hole he'd crawled into...
Well. He'd serve the Marine's interests one way or another.
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