The day of the celebration finally arrived.
The Flower Capital seemed to have been tossed into a pot of boiling oil. From early morning, clamorous drums and music, roaring crowds, the aroma of food (reserved for the privileged), and the fear and numbness buried in the commoners' eyes intertwined into a bizarre tableau of life. Lanterns and colored silk lined both sides of the streets. Geishas paraded, dragons and lions danced, and Kurozumi Orochi's ceremonial procession swaggered through the city, receiving forced, hollow cheers.
Over on Onigashima, the uproar was just as deafening. Skull Castle was festooned with lights and decorations, and the Beasts Pirates drank their fill, their coarse laughter and clinking cups ringing out without pause. In his Azure Dragon Form, Kaido coiled atop the castle's highest point, his dragon eyes half-closed, his jaws breathing out alcohol fumes and thunderclouds, as though admiring the "golden age" under his rule.
Yet beneath this noisy facade, the undercurrents had already become raging waves, about to burst through the levees.
Kuri, the resistance's temporary assembly point.
At the final prebattle meeting, the atmosphere was as heavy as iron.
Lin Yan stood before everyone, his gaze sweeping over faces that were resolute, nervous, or excited. Luffy held down his straw hat, his smile unchanged, but his eyes were more serious than ever; Zoro wiped his swords, while Sanji's hand was rock-steady as he lit a cigarette. In the eyes of Denjiro, Kawamatsu, Shutenmaru, and the other samurai burned the flames of twenty years of waiting. The remnants of the Whitebeard crew, represented by Izo and Marco, wore solemn expressions.
"Everyone," Lin Yan began, his voice quiet but reaching every ear clearly, "twenty years of darkness, the blood and tears of countless people-it all comes down to today. We fight not for revenge,