That evening.
Anus washed off the day's grime, wrapped a towel around himself, and headed back to the bedroom to light the oil lamp.
It was funny — when he'd first gotten the Rumble-Rumble Fruit, bathing had been a genuine problem for a while. His body kept slipping into its elemental form without warning, and warm water just rolled off before it could actually clean anything. That didn't sort itself out until he'd fully digested the fruit's power and could control the transformation at will.
He'd often wondered whether other Logia users went through the same thing when they first got their abilities.
He towel-dried his hair and was about to drop onto the edge of the bed when he noticed it — something moving under the covers. A very person-shaped lump, shifting with a soft, breathy little sound.
He took a breath. The room smelled like flowers. It always did, faintly — but tonight it was thick, almost cloying, with something underneath the sweetness that made his pulse jump.
A beat of silence.
"Lilith. What are you doing in my room again?"
The movement stopped. Then Lilith's face appeared from beneath the covers — all wide eyes and flushed cheeks, her bare shoulders and collarbones catching the lamplight, the sheet pooling dangerously low.
The rest was left to the imagination.
"A-Anus, my lord — you're back! I'll get out right away!" She pressed a hand to her lips, the covers slipping further. "I'm so sorry! I only wanted to be here — so that on a lonely night, at least my scent would keep you company!"
Anus exhaled. He was already feeling warm.
"No, don't. Stay tonight."
The flush on Lilith's face deepened instantly. The look that broke across her face was pure, unguarded delight — like a dam coming down.
"Really? Oh, I'm so honored — please, my lord, do whatever you like with me!"
The next morning.
Anus opened his eyes to softness.
He shifted Lilith off him, stretched, and got up to get dressed. No need for a bath — she'd already taken care of that.
From the bed, Lilith watched him leave the room. Then she buried her face in the covers, eyes closed, breathing in.
"The big one I'll name Odin... the little one, Haeon... wait, what if it's a girl?"
"No, no — Lord Anus should be the one to name them."
She hadn't had any children yet. That small detail didn't slow down her planning at all.
Because as far as she was concerned, her body already belonged entirely to the great Lord Anus.
By the time Anus reached the shore, Diumili had everything ready.
"My lord. The Angel Corps recruits are aboard and standing by. Ready when you are."
Anus glanced at him, then shifted his gaze to the ship docked at the pier.
Six years into the Rocks Pirates, most of the officers had built something of their own — their own ships, their own crews. Anus was no different.
He'd always wanted something like Enel's Ark Maxim, but he'd left Skypiea too early to build it. He planned to go back eventually and make it happen. If he had the Ark, the commute between the Blue Sea and the sky wouldn't be such a headache.
For now, the ship he had was a former Marine vessel he'd taken and had converted. It did the job.
The deck was full. Every recruit standing at attention in matching white Roman-style dress, each one wearing the distinctive white-wing ornaments on their back.
Some of them were Sky Islanders, from different islands up above. Some were pirates who'd come to Anus. Some were former slaves he'd taken in. But all of them shared the same designation now: Angel Corps recruits.
The wings were decorative — ceremonial, really. A symbol of the corps. But as Anus looked at them, one thought passed quietly through his mind.
Someday, everyone in the Angel Corps will actually be able to fly.
It was one of the short-term goals he'd set for himself, alongside finding more Lunarians.
The wings on a Sky Islander's back were born ornamental — no one could actually use them to fly. But by some tradition going back further than anyone could remember, almost no Sky Islander would take them off. Not to sleep, not to bathe. Just a part of them.
The differences between Sky Islanders and Blue Sea people were mostly physical. Anus only knew the basics. Their bones, for one thing — lighter in density than the average Blue Sea person's, what people down here might mistake for a medical condition. But it wasn't a weakness. Up high, where the air was thin, it made them perfectly at home.
The dock was busy. As Anus appeared, pirates in the area quietly drifted a step or two away, giving him room without being asked.
"Angel Corps is heading out again. Wonder if they're going after Navy this time, or pirates."
Taking the new recruits out for live field exercises was routine by now. Nobody was surprised by it anymore. Nobody knew exactly who Anus was planning to use as a whetstone this time — but they could already guess how it would end.
This was a unit that even Rocks himself had called formidable.
"I mean — wouldn't Marine HQ's elites be stronger than the Angel Corps, though?"
The voice came out of nowhere from somewhere in the crowd. Heads turned. When they saw it was just some kid, the laughter started up without much delay.
"Boy, where'd you get that idea?"
Several of the older pirates genuinely couldn't wrap their heads around the question.
"Oh, I know this one!" A pirate who seemed to know the kid well grinned wide. "His old crew got wiped out by a Marine HQ fleet! That's why!"
That got a round of knowing nods and laughter from the dock.
"Ah. Yeah, that tracks."
The kid's face went red. He opened his mouth to argue.
An older pirate cut him off.
"Listen up, kid."
"When Anus leads that unit, they don't lose. That's the end of it."
"What makes you so sure?" the kid shot back, still flushed. "What's that based on?"
The old pirate's expression shifted into something like quiet pride. "I've been on this island since before Rocks took it. I've watched every fight between the officers. Every single one."
"Anus is one of the youngest among them — maybe second youngest after Kaido. But that's never meant a damn thing. I have never, not once, seen that man look like he was in trouble during a fight."
"Every time he's taken the Angel Corps out, they've come back. All of them. And I remember when the papers ran a story — a Marine Admiral beaten by Anus. In print."
The World Government had crushed that edition fast, the way they always did. But some reporters had a gift for dying on the right hills, and the news had gotten out anyway. Most of the veterans on Beehive knew about it.
The old man said it plainly, without decoration. Nobody in earshot had a word to say against it.
The kid stood there quietly for a moment, his whole framework for how the world worked quietly reorganizing itself.
"Even an Admiral..." he murmured. "He lost?"