[RLOP] Chapter : 23 - Shimotsuki Yasuie

In the depths of the forest, the metallic tang of blood clung to the wind, mingling with screams and the clash of steel.
But beneath the chaos, something colder crept in—fear.

“Ahhh! My hand! My—!”

“Damn it! What the hell is this—”

“We were only supposed to scout, not—ugh—”

The third man’s voice choked off mid-sentence, his throat filling with warmth. A coppery flood surged upward, silencing him.

A flash of white light followed.
A thin red line etched itself across his neck, and then blood gushed like a fountain.
His body fell, lifeless eyes staring in disbelief.

Weren’t we just supposed to put on a show…?
Big Brother Lucci… lied to me…

Some tried to flee, but their legs turned to lead.
Some tried to beg, but blood drowned their throats before words could escape.
Some raised their swords to resist, only for their bodies to crumble headless in the next heartbeat.

The human body's blood, after all, has iron.

And now—silence.
The screams, the clash of steel, the calm fragrance of the forest—everything had vanished.
Only the slow trickle of blood narrated what had transpired before Yamato and Hiyori’s eyes.

“Lu… Lucci…”

Kneeling, Yamato wiped her swollen eyes, tears still threatening to fall. She didn’t even know why she was doing it. She wanted—no, needed—to cry until her chest emptied.

But her heart was hollow.

Her dreams, her ideals… ridiculous. Meaningless. Without Oden, she had no path to follow. Without that path, what point was there in living?

Still, she clung to a fragile hope.

Could Kozuki Oden really be so pitiful?
The man who laughed in a boiling cauldron—surely he wasn’t that weak, right?

That desperate belief was the last straw she clutched as she sank into despair. But the leader’s venomous words shattered even that illusion. At that moment, Yamato had almost welcomed death.

No one would save someone like me.

But someone did.

Lucci came.

The young man who once told her to “see for herself” appeared in her darkest hour.

Father always said strong people despise weakness…
Lucci… he must feel the same, right?

“I knew Orochi wouldn’t dare touch you,” Yamato muttered, forcing a brittle smile as she rose shakily to her feet. She stepped toward the figure fading into the shadows. “After all… you are Father’s crewmate…”

“Eh—?”

Her voice broke when a heavy weight collapsed into her arms. Instinctively, she caught it, holding on tight.

Only then did she see him clearly.

The once-pristine white suit was shredded, mottled with blood. His body was marked with wounds from head to toe, each still bleeding faintly. Only the steady rhythm of his breathing reassured her he was alive.

“Lucci! What happened to you?!” Yamato’s voice cracked, trembling with panic.

But was he truly gravely injured?

Of course not. With his mythical zoan body, even if he had stood still, their swords wouldn’t have pierced him.

But Lucci knew: there was a method even more effective than rescuing a damsel in distress.

It was bleeding for her.

So, before entering the fray, he had driven his own blade into his flesh a few times. The wounds weren’t deep, but they looked real enough. And they hurt—yes—but pain was nothing to him. As long as he didn’t die, it was all just mosquito bites.

Now, though, his plan required one final touch.

Rest.

Drifting into unconsciousness, Lucci felt himself being carried—soft warmth beneath him, footsteps moving steadily forward. His Observation Haki told him he was safe.

Then something wet touched his lips.

Salty.

Meanwhile, elsewhere.

Deep in a dark tunnel:

“Bruce, crawl faster!”

“Damn it, the hole’s too small! I’m not a mouse!”

“Quit whining! Those bandits fell too easily. Big Brother Lucci and the others went that way—we’ve gotta clear the path!”

“Jerry…”

“What?”

“After everything we’ve done for Big Brother Lucci… what do you think’ll happen to us?”

“…No idea. But my life belongs to him now.”

“That’s right! Even pirates have loyalty!”

“…”

“Damn it, stop kicking dirt in my face!”

“…”

But that night’s storm had only begun.

Off the coast of Wano, a lone boat approached the towering cliffs. Water thundered down from the heavens, mist rising into the air.

On the boat stood a man whose beautiful face was twisted with turmoil—shock, rage, grief.

“Why…” he whispered, clutching a letter engraved with the Kozuki emblem.

“If you were alive all this time… why didn’t you return? What were you doing?!”

Kicking off the boat, he scaled the cliff with ease, his figure disappearing into the mist.

Elsewhere, in Hakumai’s forests, Shimotsuki Yasuie stood troubled as his samurai clamored below.

“Lord Yasuie! We must march on Orochi’s castle now!”

“They say Denjiro has been slain by Rob Lucci of the Beasts Pirates!”

“This is our chance! If we strike swiftly, the castle will fall into chaos—”

Yasuie raised his hand, silencing them. His heart ached with doubt.

Denjiro, slain by some obscure Beast Pirates executive? Impossible. Denjiro’s strength was far beyond that. No… he must still be alive. It had to be part of the ruse. The prophecy demanded it.

“Nine shadows cast by the dawn sun…”

For years, Yasuie had sacrificed everything, hiding in the shadows, waiting for that day. Waiting for the prophecy’s fulfillment.

But if Denjiro truly was dead—

Then everything he had done.
Every sacrifice.
Every life ruined.

All of it had been for nothing.

Cold sweat trickled down Yasuie’s neck.

Had he gambled his honor, his people, his soul—on a lie?

At that moment, Shimotsuki Yasuie could think no further.

“Lord, you mustn’t hesitate! Do you know how terrible our reputation has become?!”

“Only by striking Castle can we redeem ourselves!”

“I, Babanosuke, may be lacking in talent, but I grew up worshipping Lord Oden’s deeds! Allow me to be the vanguard!”

“I, Domarubetsu, will also take the lead!”

“And me!”

“And me!”

The roaring pledges of his samurai echoed like thunder. Beneath his wide sleeves, Yasuie’s hands clenched into fists.

Then, amidst the cries, one voice rang out louder than the rest—he could not tell whose.

“Waiting ten years for the Kozuki is a waste! We ask Lord Yasuie to stand as shogun! Kaido—that despicable pirate—cares nothing for who the shogun is! He only cares whether his weapons are forged!”

The words pierced Yasuie like a blade. His fragile faith crumbled in an instant.

After a long silence, he rose to his feet.

Drawing his katana in one decisive motion, he raised it toward the cloud-veiled moon.

“Raise the banner of Shimotsuki clan!” he roared. “Mobilize the troops! Attack the Castle!”

A chorus of “Yes, Lord!” exploded from below.

Later, when the men dispersed, Yasuie sat alone beneath the wooden eaves, staring at the moon now hidden behind drifting clouds. A cold unease gnawed at his chest.

“This is war, not a riot,” he whispered. “How many lives will be lost…?”

Yet the arrow had been loosed; there was no calling it back. Their tarnished honor needed the blood of victory to be cleansed.

Elsewhere, in a dimly lit room:

“Big Sister Speed, a message has arrived. Shimotsuki Yasuie is gathering an army. What are your orders?”

“First, go to the prison and silence Hyogoro. Big Brother Lucci said only one leader must remain. As for Ashura Doji… Big Brother Lucci will deal with him personally.”

“And the remnants?”

“Spread word that the Kozuki are plotting to massacre the Flower Capital.”

“Yes, Big Sister!”

Former Kozuki Castle. The Shogun’s Residence.

Even at midnight, the training hall blazed with light.

Clang!

Blades clashed, sparks raining across the polished floor.

“Jack, your swordsmanship is crude. Strength alone will never defeat me.” Sasaki calmly parried another furious strike.

But Jack gritted his teeth. “Spare me the lecture! Wasn’t Big Brother Lucci’s sword like this too?! I’m following his example!”

He stepped back, bracing himself, then swung down with both arms. Two massive scythes carved the air, whistling with brutal force.

Sasaki met it head-on, his longsword locking the blades with a thunderous bang. The impact forced him back several steps, his hands tingling.

Jack smirked. “See that? Big Brother Lucci swings just like this!”

Sasaki shook the numbness from his hands, silently admitting Jack’s talent was monstrous. His Fishman bloodline gave him terrifying strength and endurance, far beyond his eleven years. And the boy had already awakened Armament Haki. A genius—undeniably.

But Sasaki still could not agree with Jack’s path. Raw power alone was not the way. And blindly following Lucci was even worse.

Taking a breath, Sasaki steadied his stance. “Jack, do you know why Big Brother Lucci mastered Denjiro’s swordsmanship in a glance, yet never uses it?”

Clang!

Sparks danced again as Jack strained against Sasaki’s blade.

“Do you know why—even with his fists alone—he could still defeat you?” Sasaki released his sword mid-clash, his fist coating in blackened Haki.

He dipped low, then launched upward—

Bang!

The punch hurled Jack several meters back.

Picking up his longsword, Sasaki advanced slowly. “It’s because Big Brother Lucci doesn’t even bother with such trash techniques. You saw it yourself. He copied Denjiro’s forms in an instant, and when he swung them once, they already surpassed Denjiro’s. To a swordsman like me, that wasn’t just skill—it was a miracle.”

Jack wiped blood from his mouth, but his grin was fearless. “Of course I know. Big Brother Lucci’s a genius. We’re the same age, but I’ll never match his strength. That’s why—” he lifted his scythes again, “—I’ll push my power even further. Even if I reach only a fraction of him… it’ll be enough.”

Their eyes locked. No more words were needed. Both knew their resolve.

Steel rang once more as the two clashed again.

For Sasaki, refinement and discipline would keep him useful at Lucci’s side.

For Jack, raw power was the only way not to be left behind.

Different paths, same goal—the shadow of Rob Lucci’s ambition loomed over them both.

And what path was Lucci himself walking? Perhaps not even he knew. His monstrous talent let him grasp anything he saw, but none of it was what he truly sought.

Somewhere in the back of his mind, a thought lingered.

Garp’s Fist. Roger’s Divine Departure. Kaido’s Thunder Bagua.

All devastating—but all, at their core, simple strikes.

Yes.

What Lucci desired… was to forge a basic attack that was his, and his alone.

Meanwhile, elsewhere in the Castle—

Maria, Ulti, and Page One endured weighted training. Between each clash of Sasaki and Jack’s blades, their own efforts seemed smaller, but no less determined.

Finally, Page One groaned, pulling off his weights. “Sis, can we stop? Training’s done, right?”

“Done?” Ulti snapped, glaring. Maria was still hammering a sandbag with steel knuckles. Ulti seized Page One by the ear. “You lazy brat! This is why Lucci won’t take us out on missions—you’re too weak!”

“But I trained all night! And I’m only three years old!”

“All night? Three years old? No excuses! Now run laps around the Castle with me!”

“Huh?! But—”

Watching from the rafters, Hattori fluffed his feathers, his keen eyes glinting with thought.

The next morning, in a quiet village—

Lucci stirred awake between two warm, soft sensations.