Kane advanced forward, his steps rhythmic. The monotonous clacking of his wooden sandals against the wooden floorboards was irritating to the ear.
Kozuki Oden's knees went weak.
This samurai, who had once charged forward triumphantly on Roger's ship, lost the courage to raise his sword again in the face of a brutal dissection of reality.
"Since you love being a fool so much," Kane's voice was steady, devoid of inflection, stating pure objective fact.
"Since you stubbornly believe, of your own accord, that dancing alone can resolve all conflicts."
He stopped. He was less than a foot away from Oden.
"Then I'll grant your wish."
A crimson halo ignited in the dim corridor.
The supreme Pupil Technique of the Uchiha clan bloomed forth at this moment.
Three tomoe spun rapidly upon a scarlet background, connecting end to end, solidifying into an eerie four-pointed pinwheel.
[Eternal Mangekyo Sharingan · Kotoamatsukami].
Activated.
A spiritual power not belonging to this dimension erupted forth, using Kane's eyes as the medium.
This power was formless and intangible.
It bypassed the defensive mechanisms of Armament Haki, ignored the robustness of the physical body, and struck directly at the deepest subconscious region of the brain.
The instant Oden looked up, he met those crimson pupils.
Before his eyes, there was no clash of arms.
Nor the torment of mountains of corpses and seas of blood.
Only a vast expanse of white light.
Deep within the white light, a hand was dismantling the life he had lived for over thirty years. The samurai's honor, the daimyo's responsibility, the memories of sailing, and the attachment to his wife and children. All the foundational stones that constructed the personality of "Kozuki Oden" were forcibly extracted, shattered, and reconstructed by this hand.
The resistance mechanism activated accordingly.
The Conqueror's Haki belonging to a top-tier powerhouse attempted to counterattack.
The instinctual self-defense originating from the soul was triggered.
But it was meaningless.
The judgment logic of Kotoamatsukami operated at an absolute priority level.
As long as the Spiritual Power Threshold was not higher than the caster's, as long as one had not yet stepped into the "Divine Domain," once the modification command was implanted, it could never be revoked.
Kane stared into those originally bloodshot, ox-like eyes.
His voice echoed directly in the deepest recesses of the other's mind via the Psychic Bridge, each word and phrase transforming into an unbreakable, immutable truth.
"You are nothing but a fool fit only for dancing."
The first command fell. The memories related to "Bushido" in Oden's mind shattered completely. What filled the void was a fanatical worship of ridiculous dance steps.
"The survival of the nation has nothing to do with you. The future of Wano Country, for all eternity, is not within your consideration."
The second command smashed in. All sense of daimyo responsibility was utterly erased. He was no longer the son of a shogun bearing the fate of a nation. Entrusting the safety of a country to the moral standards of an enemy—such a strategic collapse, even the jailer beasts of Impel Down wouldn't commit. Kane used Kotoamatsukami to thoroughly correct this logical paradox for him.
"You don't care about the lives or deaths of your family either. Kozuki Toki, Momonosuke, Hiyori—these names, to you, are worth less than a broken pot lid in the mud."
The third command severed the final bonds of familial affection.
"Dancing naked, pleasing the people around you, that is the entire meaning of your life. You were born to do this."
The final imprint was permanently branded into the depths of Kozuki Oden's soul.
As the technique concluded, the windmill pattern faded, and his blood-red pupils returned to ordinary black.
The wind picked up again.
Clang.
Metal struck wood with a crisp sound.
The Named Swords Ame no Habakiri and Enma were casually discarded by their owner.
Kozuki Oden stood in place.
His face, which had been twitching with humiliation and fury moments before, now bore an unnervingly smooth expression.
The focus in his pupils scattered, the light within them completely extinguished. The eyes once filled with wildness and defiance were now brimming with a clear, foolish emptiness.
From this day forward, Kozuki Oden's life goal had formed a perfect, closed loop—to dance.
Should anyone attempt to awaken him with appeals to duty or righteousness for his family and country, he would instinctively judge them as jealous of his peerless dancing skills.
"Smile." Kane raised his right hand, lightly snapping his fingers with a crisp sound.
The snap of his fingers was the activation switch.
The muscles of Kozuki Oden's face began to contort unnaturally.
The corners of his mouth stretched wide to the sides, exposing large areas of gums. His eyes narrowed into slits, with a few drops of murky liquid seeping from their corners.
It was an extremely idiotic, profoundly genuine, imbecilic smile.
"Heh... hehehe... dance... dance..."
Incoherent syllables dribbled from his mouth, saliva trickling down the corners and dripping onto his solid pectoral muscles.
Immediately, this body that had once dominated the New World began to twist and move with utmost self-awareness.
There was no musical accompaniment. No audience to watch.
Kozuki Oden, right there in the dim courtyard, accompanied by the distant croaking of frogs, began swaying his hips, slapping his buttocks, repeating the same ridiculous movements he had performed in the marketplace during the day.
He danced with utter devotion, with boundless joy.
He firmly believed this was his life's sole pursuit. Anyone who tried to stop him from dancing was his mortal enemy. Forget Kaido and Orochi; even if Roger were to resurrect on the spot or Whitebeard himself descended upon Kuri, they would not be able to stop him from wiggling his waist and shaking his rear in the mud.
Physical Salvation for a frustrating plot.
This was Kane's unique philosophy of operation. Rather than letting this fool live each day in self-indulgent agony, it was better to go straight to the root and help him find his true calling.
Having done a "great good deed," he had also effortlessly neutralized the country's legitimate heir.
What a supremely "Just" act.
The light screen flashed across his retina once more.
[Ding! Detected host behavior logic is extremely malicious!]
[You have used extradimensional abilities to forcibly alter the personality and destiny of key plot character "Kozuki Oden"!]
Plot Subversion Level Determination: Catastrophic!]
[Kozuki Oden will permanently lose the will to restore his country. The future "Nine Red Scabbards" of Wano Country will lose the core of their loyalty. The future "Pirate King ally" faction will crumble!]
[Congratulations, host! Received massive Violation Value reward: 800,000 points!]
Kane lightly brushed off the corner of his garment. He had lost interest in continuing to watch Oden rolling on the ground and dancing.
In the grand chess game of Wano Country, the toughest nut to crack had never been Kaido, entrenched on Onigashima, nor Orochi, hiding in the Flower Capital scheming politically. It was precisely this Kozuki Oden—the legitimate heir with immense popular prestige and formidable strength.
Leaving him alive would cause the stubborn samurai of Wano to gather around him like madmen, posing a significant obstacle to Kane's takeover plans.
Now, the root problem was solved with ease.
The legitimate heir had become an exhibitionist obsessed with striptease.
The Kozuki Clan's centuries of prestige would be utterly tarnished by his own hands. Those foolishly loyal samurai would endure years of hope, disappointment, and ultimately, complete despair.
Once this land was thoroughly fragmented and left with no one capable of ruling...
Admiral Kane would descend like a thunderbolt, posing as a "savior" to purge scum like Orochi. All of Wano Country's wealth, armories, Sea Stone veins, and even the slumbering Ancient Weapon Pluton buried underground.
Would all fall seamlessly into his private coffers.
Kane turned around.
He tightened the deep purple rōnin haori, covering most of his body.
Bending down, he casually picked up Ame no Habakiri and Enma from the ground.
No admiral's salary could compare to the value of two top-tier Named Swords from the Great Grade Blade Twenty-One Works. Selling them on the black market would fetch at least the cost of several new Warships.
Handing them over to the Navy? Impossible. Absolutely impossible in this lifetime.
This was called the lawful confiscation of prohibited controlled weapons, preventing a mentally ill individual from harming innocents with blades.
As he grasped the swords, the cold steel seeped through the scabbards into his palms.
Kane weighed them in one hand.
Pirates of the New World could never imagine that the Navy, which always preached "Justice," was secretly planning an entire super-industry chain for smuggling Sea Stone and weapons.
Orochi was merely a short-sighted proxy. Once the weapons factories were built and production lines perfected, Kane would personally send him to hell and take over the ready-made enterprise.
This was what they called "one plants the tree, another enjoys the fruit."
Carrying the swords, Kane strolled toward the courtyard's high wall.
Behind him, the croaking of frogs mingled with grunts in the courtyard, the sound of Oden slapping his own flesh echoing through the night.
Kane leaped onto the wall. The night breeze ruffled his hair.
He glanced back at Oden rolling in the mud.
"What's left now is just a matter of timing."