Part I: The Decision at Dawn
The morning sun rose over Wano with the soft persistence of inevitability, painting the sky in shades of gold and crimson that seemed almost too beautiful to be real. Baahubali stood alone on the eastern ramparts of the Shogun's palace, watching the light chase away shadows, feeling the warmth on his face as he had every morning for the past month.
But this morning was different.
This morning, he remembered.
Not everything—the flood of complete memory still eluded him like water through grasping fingers. But fragments had returned, sharp and clear, triggered by the moment he'd saved that little girl. When he'd kept his promise. When he'd allowed himself to be who he truly was without restraint or doubt.
He remembered children's faces. Hundreds of them. Freed slaves looking at him with hope and terror mixed in equal measure. And one face in particular—a boy, perhaps nine years old, massive for his age, with eyes that had seen too much suffering yet still carried kindness.
Bartholomew Kuma.
"I promised I would return for you," Baahubali whispered to the dawn. "I promised I would build an empire to protect children like you. And I left you waiting."
How long had it been? The timeline was fuzzy, memories out of sequence, but he knew—felt—that years had passed. That Kuma had grown from child to man, perhaps wondering if the promise had been empty words.
"I have to go back," he said to the empty air. "I have to find him. Find all of them. Keep the promises I made."
"I thought I'd find you here."
Baahubali turned to see Kozuki Sukiyaki approaching, the Shogun moving with the careful dignity of someone bearing the weight of sleepless nights.
"Shogun," Baahubali bowed respectfully. "You're awake early."
"As are you. And I suspect for the same reason." Sukiyaki joined him at the rampart, both men looking out at the rising sun. "You're leaving."
It wasn't a question.
"How did you know?"
"Because I've been watching you this past month. Watching you stare at the horizon with increasing frequency. Watching you train Oden with extra intensity, as if trying to pack years of teaching into days. Watching you memorize every detail of Wano, as if storing it for a long absence."
Sukiyaki turned to face him fully. "And because the prophecy in the chamber below has grown brighter every day. The drums of liberation haven't faded—they've been building. And I think they're calling you home. Wherever home is."
Baahubali was quiet for a moment, then nodded. "When I saved that child—the little girl during Orochi's conspiracy—something broke loose in my mind. Memories returned. Not all of them, but enough."
"Enough to know who you are?"
"Enough to know what I've lost. What I've left unfinished." Baahubali's hand moved unconsciously to his sword. "I remember children, Shogun. So many children. I freed them from slavers, from Celestial Dragons who hunted them for sport. And I made them a promise—that I would return for them. That I would build something to protect them."
"And you left them to come here."
"I didn't choose to come here. I washed ashore with no memory, no purpose. But yes—for whatever reason, I ended up in Wano while they remained wherever I left them."
"How long ago?"
Baahubali's expression tightened with frustration. "I don't know. Time is... fragmented. But I remember one child clearly. A boy named Bartholomew Kuma. He was nine when I saved him. If years have passed, he'd be a man now. Perhaps wondering if I abandoned him."
Sukiyaki absorbed this information with the careful consideration of a man accustomed to weighing consequences.
"So you're leaving to find this Kuma. To keep your promise."
"Yes. I've delayed long enough. Wano is stable now—more stable than when I arrived. Orochi's conspiracy is destroyed. Oden has matured into a true leader. The daimyos are working together with unprecedented cooperation. You don't need me anymore."
"Perhaps not. But we'll miss you nonetheless."
They stood in companionable silence as the sun continued its ascent, both men knowing this conversation was merely prelude to something larger.
Finally, Sukiyaki spoke again, his voice carrying the weight of revelation:
"I know who you are, Amarendra D. Baahubali. Or at least, I know what you represent."
Baahubali's eyes sharpened. "Explain."
"Come with me. There's something you need to see."
Part II: The Truth in Stone
The descent into the secret chamber felt longer this time, each step heavy with anticipation. Sukiyaki led the way with a torch, its light dancing across ancient walls carved with stories most of the world had forgotten.
When they reached the bottom, when the Poneglyph came into view, Baahubali stopped.
The massive stone was glowing—not with reflected torchlight, but with its own inner luminescence. Golden light pulsed from the carved text in rhythm with something that sounded almost like...
"Drums," Baahubali breathed. "I can hear drums."
"The Drums of Liberation," Sukiyaki confirmed. "They've been getting louder since you unleashed your full Conqueror's Haki during the festival. The prophecy is awakening."
"What prophecy?"
Sukiyaki gestured to the Poneglyph, then to the walls surrounding it. "This chamber contains the true history of the Void Century. The story the World Government tried to erase. And at its center is a promise—that Joy Boy would return."
He began to read from the ancient text, translating the stone mason's script:
"When the drums of liberation beat once more, when the Will of D. manifests supreme, when one appears who carries the authority of kings and the compassion of servants, the scattered people shall gather. And the dawn shall break upon a world held too long in darkness."
Baahubali's hand moved to the Poneglyph, his fingers tracing the carved words. The moment he touched the stone, images flooded his mind:
A golden city, impossibly vast, where people of every race lived together in harmony.
A ruler who governed not through force but through inspiration, whose very presence made people want to be better.
A war. Twenty kings united against one empire. And at the center, a man who looked almost like...
"Me," Baahubali whispered. "He looks like me."
"Joy Boy?" Sukiyaki asked. "Or are you Joy Boy?"
"I... I don't know. The memories are confused. I see him—this Joy Boy—and he feels familiar. Like looking at a relative. A brother, perhaps. Or a predecessor. But I don't think I am him. I think I'm... connected to him. Part of the same lineage."
He pulled his hand back from the stone, and the visions faded.
"I remember an empire," he said slowly. "Not this Ancient Kingdom you speak of, but something else. Mahishmati. That's what I called it when I fought Orochi. The name came without thought, like breathing."
"The Ancient Kingdom had many names," Sukiyaki suggested. "Perhaps Mahishmati was one region. Or perhaps there were multiple great civilizations before the Void Century, all destroyed by the Twenty Kings."
"Perhaps." Baahubali looked at the glowing D. carved into the wall. "I carry the D. in my name. Amarendra D. Baahubali. What does that make me?"
"An inheritor of the Will of D. A natural enemy of the Celestial Dragons. Someone who carries the dream of freedom in their very blood." Sukiyaki's expression was grave. "And based on what I've witnessed—your abilities, your knowledge, the way people respond to you, the way the prophecy awakens in your presence—I believe you're not just any D. carrier. You're something more. Perhaps Joy Boy's heir. Perhaps his reincarnation. Perhaps something the world has never seen before."
"That's... a heavy burden to carry."
"Is it heavier than the burden you already bear? The children you've promised to protect? The empire you remember ruling? The promises you've made to people across seas you can't fully recall?"
Baahubali had no answer to that.
Sukiyaki placed a hand on his shoulder. "You asked why I'm allowing you to leave so easily. This is why. Because I believe your destiny is larger than Wano. That the drums are calling you not just to keep promises to children, but to fulfill prophecies eight hundred years in the making."
"What if I'm not what the prophecy expects? What if I fail?"
"Then you'll have tried. Which is more than anyone has done in eight centuries." Sukiyaki smiled. "Besides, I've watched you for months now. Watched you transform my son from a man-child into a true leader. Watched you improve every region you visited. Watched you face down conspiracies and Devil Fruit users and impossible odds with nothing but your principles and your will. If anyone can fulfill ancient prophecies, it's you."
"You have more faith in me than I have in myself."
"Faith is what others give you when you've earned it through action. You've earned ours, Baahubali. Wano's faith. My faith. And I suspect, the faith of many people you haven't met yet."
They stood in silence for a moment, the weight of destiny hanging between them.
"When will you leave?" Sukiyaki finally asked.
"Tomorrow, if possible. Every day I delay is another day Kuma and the others wait."
"Tomorrow then. And I'll make sure you leave properly—with supplies, with a worthy vessel, with Wano's blessing." Sukiyaki's expression grew thoughtful. "Will you take Oden with you?"
"That's not my choice to make."
"No, but you know he'll want to go. He's been torn this past month—wanting to explore the world, but newly aware of his responsibilities to Wano."
"Then he'll have to make the choice himself. And live with whatever he decides."
"What do you think he should choose?"
Baahubali considered carefully before answering. "A month ago, I would have said he should stay. Learn to govern. Fulfill his duty as heir. But now..." He looked at the glowing prophecy. "Now I think the world is about to change. And when it does, Wano will need a Shogun who understands what's happening beyond its borders. Who has connections, knowledge, experience of the wider world."
"So you think he should go?"
"I think he should choose. And I think you should support whatever choice he makes, because forcing him to stay will only breed resentment, while forcing him to go will breed guilt."
Sukiyaki smiled. "You're wiser than most men twice your age."
"Or I just remember making similar choices once, even if I can't recall the specifics."
As they ascended from the chamber, Baahubali felt something settle in his chest. Certainty. Purpose. The decision had been made, and now all that remained was following through.
Tomorrow, he would leave Wano.
Tomorrow, he would begin the search for the promises he'd made.
Tomorrow, the drums of liberation would carry him toward a destiny he was only beginning to understand.
Part III: A Father's Gift
News of Baahubali's impending departure spread through the palace like wildfire. By midday, Oden had stormed into his father's chambers, his face a mixture of shock, anger, and profound sadness.
"You're letting him leave?" Oden's voice cracked with emotion. "Just like that? After everything he's done? After everything he's taught me?"
Sukiyaki looked up from the documents he'd been reviewing—requisition forms for a ship, supply manifests, navigation charts. "He's not a possession to be kept, Oden. He's a free man with his own path to walk."
"But we need him! I need him! There's still so much I have to learn!"
"Is there? Look at yourself, my son. Really look." Sukiyaki stood and moved to a mirror, gesturing for Oden to join him. "What do you see?"
Oden stared at his reflection—his face, his bearing, his eyes that now carried wisdom alongside their characteristic fire.
"I see... someone different than I was."
"You see a leader. Someone who thinks before acting. Who considers consequences. Who balances strength with compassion. Who understands that power exists to serve, not to dominate." Sukiyaki placed a hand on his son's shoulder. "That's who Baahubali helped you become. And that transformation is complete. You don't need him to continue growing—you need experience, responsibility, and time."
"But I want to go with him!" The words burst out before Oden could stop them. "I want to see the world! To explore! To have adventures! To—"
"To run from responsibility?"
The words hit like a physical blow. Oden's mouth opened, then closed, then opened again.
"That's not... I'm not running..."
"Then what are you doing?"
Oden was silent for a long moment, genuinely struggling with the question. Finally, honestly, he answered:
"I don't know. I want to stay because Wano is my home, my people, my duty. But I also want to go because there's a whole world out there I've never seen, and Baahubali represents everything I've dreamed about—adventure, freedom, meaning beyond borders."
"And if you could only choose one? Stay or go?"
"I..." Oden's face contorted with the impossibility of the choice. "How can I choose? Either way, I'm abandoning something important!"
"Then perhaps," Sukiyaki said carefully, "you're asking the wrong question. It's not 'stay or go.' It's 'when to go, and for how long.'"
Oden blinked. "What do you mean?"
"I mean that Wano will still be here in a year. In five years. In ten. Your duty as heir doesn't vanish just because you leave temporarily—it just requires you to eventually return. And the world... the world is changing. I can feel it. The drums that beat during Baahubali's battle—those weren't just power. They were a call. A promise of transformation coming."
Sukiyaki moved to the window, looking out at the capital that had been his responsibility for decades.
"When that change comes, when the world shifts on its axis, Wano will have to decide: remain isolated, or engage. And if we engage, I need a Shogun who understands what we're engaging with. Who has connections, allies, knowledge."
He turned back to face his son.
"I'm not saying go with Baahubali permanently. I'm saying... go. Learn. Experience the world. See what he sees, understand what he understands. Then come back. Bring that knowledge home. Use it to make Wano stronger, safer, more prepared for whatever's coming."
"You're... giving me permission to leave?" Oden's voice was barely a whisper.
"I'm giving you permission to grow beyond Wano's shores while remembering you have roots here. Permission to explore the world while knowing you have a home to return to. Permission to be both wanderer and heir."
Tears began streaming down Oden's face. He'd wanted this for so long—to sail beyond Wano's borders, to experience the freedom he'd always dreamed about. But he'd also grown enough under Baahubali's teaching to understand the weight of responsibility, to feel genuine duty to his people.
Having permission to pursue both—to honor both the call of adventure and the call of duty—felt like a burden lifting.
"Father," he managed, then couldn't find more words.
Sukiyaki pulled him into a hug—rare for the reserved Shogun, but genuine.
"Go, Oden. Sail with Baahubali. Learn from the world. Have your adventures. Become the man—the Shogun—Wano will need in the years to come. But remember..."
He pulled back, looking his son in the eyes.
"Remember to come home. Remember that Wano loves you. Remember that someday, this responsibility will be yours, and you'll need everything you learn out there to bear it well."
"I'll come back," Oden promised, his voice thick with emotion. "I swear it. I'll explore, I'll learn, and I'll come back to use everything I've gained to make Wano the greatest nation in the world."
"I know you will. Because Baahubali taught you something crucial—that freedom and responsibility aren't opposites. They're partners. You can be free while honoring your duties. You can explore while remembering your roots. You can grow beyond Wano while always carrying Wano in your heart."
As father and son stood together, sharing a moment of perfect understanding, neither noticed the figure watching from the doorway.
Baahubali had heard everything. And his expression—proud, sad, hopeful—reflected his recognition that Oden had truly graduated from student to peer.
Part IV: The Master Shipwrights' Gift
The next morning, Baahubali was summoned to Wano's legendary shipyards—massive facilities carved into the coastline where vessels of extraordinary quality had been constructed for generations.
What he found there took his breath away.
A ship—not large by warship standards, perhaps a hundred feet long—but perfect. Every line spoke of masterful craftsmanship, every detail showed careful consideration. The hull gleamed with what appeared to be...
"Adam Wood," Sukiyaki confirmed, approaching from behind. "The strongest, most durable timber in existence. Harvested from the Treasure Tree Adam, processed by Wano's finest shipwrights."
"This is too much," Baahubali protested. "Adam Wood is legendary. Invaluable. I can't accept—"
"You can and you will." Sukiyaki's tone allowed no argument. "Come, let me show you what we've built."
The tour revealed a vessel that was essentially a floating fortress. The hull incorporated not just Adam Wood, but Sea-Prism Stone—the rare material that weakened Devil Fruit users and made the ship nearly invisible to the massive Sea Kings that plagued certain waters.
"The keel contains a fragment of Poneglyph material," one of the master shipwrights explained. "Indestructible stone that ensures the ship's structural integrity can never be compromised."
"Impossible," Baahubali breathed. "Poneglyphs can't be worked. They're indestructible."
"True. But we found a fragment—a piece broken off in some ancient catastrophe—and incorporated it exactly as it was. The ship built around the stone, not the stone carved to fit the ship."
The interior was equally impressive. Storage holds designed for maximum efficiency. Quarters that could house a crew of twenty comfortably. A navigation room with charts of every known sea. An armory that could equip a small army.
"And this," Sukiyaki said, leading Baahubali to the ship's figurehead.
It was a shield—the symbol Baahubali had unconsciously used throughout Wano, the mark of Mahishmati he'd drawn without remembering why. Carved from a single piece of Adam Wood and inlaid with gold, it gleamed in the morning sun.
"The Shield of Dharma," Sukiyaki said simply. "That's what we're calling her. The ship that carries the Shield of Dharma on his quest."
Baahubali couldn't speak, overwhelmed by the generosity, the craftsmanship, the sheer thoughtfulness of the gift.
"Why?" he finally managed. "Why do all this for a stranger who washed ashore with no memory?"
"Because you're not a stranger anymore. You're someone who saved my son. Who saved my nation. Who showed us that our isolation, while protective, was also limiting. You're family, Baahubali. And family gets the best we can offer."
Before Baahubali could respond, the other daimyos arrived, each one carrying their own gifts:
Shimotsuki Yasuie presented navigation logs documenting every journey Wano's ships had ever taken, along with trade contacts in the few ports that still dealt with them.
Amatsuki Takeru brought weapons—swords forged by Ringo's finest smiths, each one a masterwork that would make any swordsman weep with joy.
Fugetsu Omusubi contributed preserved foods that could last months at sea, along with recipes for meals that could maintain health even during long voyages.
Uzuki Tempura provided security equipment—locks, chains, prison-grade restraints for capturing enemies, and detailed maps of Marine bases and pirate havens.
"We've all contributed," Yasuie explained. "Because Sukiyaki is right—you're family now. And when family leaves on a dangerous journey, we make sure they have everything they need to succeed."
"I don't know what to say," Baahubali admitted.
"Don't say anything," Takeru replied. "Just promise you'll use these gifts well. Promise you'll find the children you're searching for. Promise you'll build that empire of protection you've dreamed about."
"And promise," Sukiyaki added, "that when the world changes—when the drums of liberation call for armies instead of just heroes—you'll remember Wano. Remember that we heard those drums. Remember that we're ready to answer."
Baahubali looked at each of them—these leaders who'd welcomed a stranger, who'd listened to his advice, who'd transformed their governance based on fragments of memory he couldn't fully articulate.
"I promise," he said, and the words carried the weight of absolute conviction. "I promise I'll find the children and keep my word. I promise I'll build something worthy of their trust. And I promise that when the time comes—when the world needs Wano's strength—I'll call, and I'll trust you'll answer."
"We will," Sukiyaki said simply. "That's what this is—an oath, not just a gift. You carry our blessing. Our support. Our hope that you'll succeed in whatever destiny awaits."
Part V: The Farewell of Kings
The departure was scheduled for sunset—symbolic timing suggested by Sukiyaki. The sun setting on Baahubali's time in Wano, and rising on his new journey.
The entire Flower Capital turned out, citizens lining the route from the palace to the docks. Children waved. Adults bowed. Merchants offered final supplies. It was a sendoff worthy of royalty.
Baahubali walked at the front, Oden and his retainers behind him. The young lord had chosen—he would sail with his mentor, would explore the world, would grow beyond Wano's borders. His retainers had all pledged to follow.
Well, all except one.
"I'm staying," Ashura Doji had announced that morning. "Someone needs to keep Kuri stable while you're gone, Lord Oden. Someone who knows how to deal with bandits and troublemakers."
"You're sure?" Oden had asked.
"Positive. Go have your adventures. I'll hold down the fort."
Now, as they approached the docks, the assembled crowd parted to reveal the ship in all its glory. The Shield of Dharma sat at anchor, its sails furled, its figurehead gleaming, ready for adventure.
Sukiyaki stood at the dock's edge, flanked by the daimyos and their retainers. All of them radiated presence—their combined Haki creating a pressure that made the air itself feel heavy.
"Before you go," Sukiyaki said, his voice carrying to the entire assembly, "there's something we want you to understand. Something we want to declare publicly."
He stepped forward, and his Conqueror's Haki began to manifest visibly—black lightning crackling around his form, pressure radiating outward in waves.
"Amarendra D. Baahubali, you came to us as a stranger. You leave as family. As an honored guest of Wano. As someone who has earned our eternal gratitude and friendship."
One by one, the daimyos joined him, their own Conqueror's Haki flaring:
Yasuie's Haki carried the weight of wisdom, of careful thought and long planning.
Takeru's Haki radiated the sharpness of mastered blades, of strength refined through decades.
Omusubi's Haki was warm, encompassing, protective like a shield around those he cared for.
Tempura's Haki was rigid, disciplined, the iron will of someone who never bent or broke.
And then Oden stepped forward, his Conqueror's Haki erupting with force that shocked everyone watching. In just months under Baahubali's teaching, the young lord's power had grown exponentially—not in raw strength, but in control, focus, refinement.
Where his Haki had once been a volcano—powerful but wild—it was now a forge fire: just as hot, just as strong, but directed with purpose.
"Baahubali!" Oden's voice rang across the docks. "You're not just my teacher! You're my brother in all but blood! And wherever you go, whatever you do, you carry Kozuki Oden's support! You carry Wano's strength! You carry the Will of D. made manifest!"
The combined Conqueror's Haki of six supreme users created a display that Wano had never witnessed. The sky split—not just in one direction, but in multiple points, creating a web of fractured clouds that revealed glimpses of stars despite the sunset.
The pressure was so intense that anyone without strong Haki training had to kneel. Even some of the stronger samurai found themselves struggling to remain upright.
But Baahubali stood at the center of it all, untouched, his own Haki rising to meet theirs—not in challenge, but in recognition. In acceptance. In brotherhood.
"I am honored," he said, and his voice carried despite not being enhanced by Haki or voice amplification. "Honored by your friendship. Honored by your support. Honored to have spent these months learning about your culture, your people, your incredible nation."
His own Conqueror's Haki began to manifest, golden-black lightning intertwining with the others', creating patterns in the air that looked almost like calligraphy—as if their combined wills were writing promises on the sky itself.
"I came to Wano lost. I leave with purpose. I came alone. I leave with family. I came weak with amnesia. I leave stronger for having remembered what matters most—that promises are sacred, that children deserve protection, that honor transcends memory."
He bowed to Sukiyaki, then to each daimyo in turn, then to the assembled citizens.
"Thank you. For your welcome. For your patience with my strange ideas. For your willingness to change, to grow, to become even more than you already were. You've given me gifts I can never fully repay—friendship, wisdom, and the reminder of who I am beneath the forgotten memories."
Straightening, he looked toward the horizon where the sun was beginning to set.
"I go now to find children I promised to protect. To build an empire that exists not to conquer, but to shield. To fulfill oaths I made before I even knew I'd lost the ability to remember them."
His eyes found Sukiyaki's one last time.
"And when the drums of liberation beat for war instead of warning, when the world calls for soldiers instead of saviors, when the ancient prophecy demands fulfillment—I will remember Wano. Will remember your strength. Will call, trusting you'll answer."
"We will answer," Sukiyaki replied, his voice carrying absolute conviction. "This I swear on the Kozuki name, on the stone that cannot be destroyed, on the oaths our ancestors made eight hundred years ago. When you call, Wano comes. Whether with ten warriors or ten thousand. Whether for a day or a decade. Whether to support or to lead. When the Shield of Dharma calls, Wano answers."
The daimyos echoed his words: "Wano answers."
The assembled crowd took up the chant: "Wano answers! Wano answers! WANO ANSWERS!"
The sound was deafening, a promise made by thousands of voices speaking as one.
Baahubali felt something warm spreading through his chest—not just gratitude, but belonging. For the first time since awakening with no memory, he felt truly connected to something larger than himself.
"Then I accept your oath," he said. "And I make mine in return—when Wano calls, I answer. When the nation that showed me kindness needs strength, I provide it. When the people who treated a stranger as family face danger, I become their shield."
His Conqueror's Haki pulsed once, sealing the mutual oath with bonds stronger than steel.
Then, with final bows exchanged and tears flowing freely, Baahubali boarded the Shield of Dharma.
Oden and his retainers followed—Kin'emon, Denjiro, Raizo, Kawamatsu, Kikunojo, Inuarashi, and Nekomamushi. Eight warriors leaving Wano to explore the world, to grow beyond their nation's borders, to become something greater.
As the ship raised anchor and began to move, powered by favorable winds that seemed almost providential, the little girl who'd called Baahubali back during Orochi's conspiracy ran to the dock's edge.
"Come back!" she shouted, waving frantically. "Promise you'll come back!"
Baahubali leaned over the ship's rail, his smile warm despite the distance growing between them.
"I promise! And you know I keep my promises!"
Her laughter carried across the water, pure and delighted.
On the docks, Sukiyaki watched the ship disappear toward the horizon, a smile playing at his lips.
"What are you thinking?" Yasuie asked quietly.
"I'm thinking that we just witnessed the beginning of something unprecedented. The drums of liberation have beaten. The Will of D. has manifested in our time. And we've just sent a king—perhaps THE king—out into the world to gather his scattered people."
"You really believe he's connected to Joy Boy? To the Ancient Kingdom?"
"I believe he's something the World Government thought they'd destroyed eight hundred years ago. And I believe that when he remembers fully, when he reclaims everything he's lost, the world will shake to its foundations."
Takeru joined them, his ancient eyes thoughtful. "And we've pledged to support him. To answer when he calls. Are you certain that's wise, Sukiyaki? We're committing Wano to a conflict we don't fully understand."
"I'm committing Wano to honor our ancestors' oaths," Sukiyaki corrected. "To fulfill promises made in the Void Century. To stand with the forces of liberation when they finally rise against eight hundred years of tyranny."
"That sounds like war."
"It sounds like justice. Long delayed, but finally arriving." Sukiyaki looked at each daimyo. "We've spent centuries in isolation, telling ourselves we were being wise. Being protective. But really, we were being afraid. Afraid to engage with the world. Afraid to risk what we'd built. Afraid to honor the oaths that required sacrifice."
"And now?"
"Now we prepare. We strengthen Wano. We wait for Oden to return with knowledge of the outside world. We train our samurai. We forge our weapons. We ready ourselves for the day when the drums beat not in warning, but in war."
He turned from the ocean to face his fellow leaders.
"Because that day is coming. Baahubali represents its approach. And when it arrives, Wano will be ready. Ready to honor ancient promises. Ready to stand with the forces of liberation. Ready to show the world that the samurai of Wano are not just strong—we're righteous."
The daimyos nodded, each one understanding the weight of what was being said.
On the horizon, the Shield of Dharma was now just a speck against the setting sun. But somehow, they could still feel it—Baahubali's presence, his promise, his potential.
"Revolution is coming," Sukiyaki whispered. "The Great War for Liberation. The final conflict between the Celestial Dragons' tyranny and the world's dream of freedom. And when it comes, we'll be ready."
"What makes you so certain?" Tempura asked.
"Because I've seen the prophecy glow. Heard the drums beat. Felt the awakening of promises eight hundred years old. And I've watched a man with no memory transform my son, my nation, my understanding of what's possible."
He smiled, and it was the smile of someone who'd glimpsed destiny and found it beautiful despite its terrible cost.
"Baahubali will unite the scattered clans. The refugees and remnants of civilizations the World Government destroyed. The Minks, the Fish-Men, the Giants, the Lunarians, all the D. carriers spread across the seas. He'll gather them. Inspire them. Lead them."
"And then?"
"And then he'll come for the Celestial Dragons. Not for revenge. Not for power. But for liberation. For the fulfillment of promises made to children who deserved better. For the dream of a world where strength protects rather than oppresses."
"And Wano will stand with him."
"Wano will stand with him," Sukiyaki confirmed. "That's the oath we made. That's the promise our ancestors carved in indestructible stone. That's the destiny we've spent eight hundred years preparing for, even if we didn't know it."
As night fell over the Flower Capital, as citizens returned to their homes carrying memories of the extraordinary departure they'd witnessed, as the daimyos dispersed to begin preparations they couldn't yet fully articulate, Sukiyaki remained on the docks.
Looking toward the horizon where a ship carried a legend toward his destiny.
"Find your children, Baahubali," he whispered. "Keep your promises. Remember who you are. And when you're ready—when you've gathered your strength and your people and your purpose—come back. Not to Wano, necessarily. But to the world. Come back to challenge the false gods. Come back to bring the dawn."
"And we'll be waiting. With swords sharpened and oaths renewed and warriors ready to stand beside the King of Mahishmati in his final battle."
The drums of liberation, faint but persistent, continued to echo across the water.
And Sukiyaki smiled, knowing he'd heard the first notes of a symphony eight hundred years in the making.
The age was changing.
The Shield of Dharma was sailing.
And the Great War for Liberation was no longer a distant prophecy.
It was an approaching inevitability.
To Be Continued...
The shield departs. The drums echo. And across the seas, scattered remnants of destroyed civilizations feel something stirring—a call they don't consciously recognize but their souls remember. The Will of D. sails toward its destiny. The King of Mahishmati seeks his scattered children. And the world, whether it knows it or not, is about to witness the return of something the Celestial Dragons thought they'd destroyed forever: Hope.
End of Wano Arc