Makoto walked alone towards the restroom.
The corridors of the colosseum were dimly lit, with cells holding gladiators on both sides.
Through the iron bars, one could see the ragged, bruised men inside.
These men, to be precise, were just props for the audience's entertainment.
Once they lost, they would be taken to Sugar, the user of the Hobby-Hobby Fruit, and turned into toys, becoming Dressrosa's cheap labor force.
But to be honest, these gladiators were also very low in skill.
After all, even someone at Rebecca's level was actually a constant winner here, which was just ridiculous.
But considering the special nature of Rebecca's identity, Makoto felt there was probably some behind-the-scenes manipulation involved.
After all, Doflamingo still needed the Riku royal family, including Rebecca, to threaten Violet into serving him. He couldn't really let these people from the Riku family die.
Secondly, there was Rebecca's outfit... tsk, tsk, it's a definite ticket-seller.
Just as Makoto was lost in these thoughts and about to enter the restroom—
A graceful figure suddenly darted out.
"Please!"
She gave Makoto a deep ninety-degree bow.
"Please let me participate in the competition too!"
Her voice was crisp and urgent, carrying a hint of tremor.
Makoto was taken aback for a moment, looking at this petite figure.
Pink braided hair, in the exact same style as Makima's.
Fair skin, delicate features.
Although her outfit was completely different from how he remembered her—
Makoto recognized this little girl's identity at a glance.
Former Dressrosa's princess, Rebecca.
He had just been thinking about Rebecca, and now she suddenly appeared.
To be honest, Makoto's impression of Rebecca wasn't very good, far inferior to that of her aunt Violet.
In Makoto's memory, this girl only knew how to constantly shout 'Luffy', 'Luffy', which was annoying.
But Makoto also had to admit, Rebecca was truly 'sexy'.
In this One Piece World where J-cup sizes were common, big-breasted girls were countless, but in terms of the sexiness of their outfits, Makoto really couldn't remember many who could compare to Rebecca.
Makoto looked over the little girl before him, who was performing that signature Japanese gesture, and asked knowingly, "Who are you?"
"I... I'm Rebecca, a gladiator of the colosseum."
Rebecca barely lifted her head, revealing her still somewhat immature but already impressive figure.
"Age?"
"Thirteen..."
Makoto suddenly felt that it was fortunate Kaguya and Yukino weren't around… otherwise, they'd probably be so insecure they'd want to kill themselves.
"So you've come about news of the Dark-Dark Fruit?"
"Yes, I need to gain power, so..."
Rebecca knew her own background. She had become a gladiator to constantly increase her strength through real combat here, hoping one day to defeat Doflamingo and help her grandfather reclaim this country.
She just didn't know that the toy soldier who had taken care of her since childhood was actually her father.
One had to admit, this girl did have some perseverance.
Unfortunately, she just didn't have the talent.
And she didn't stop to think: if she actually had that kind of talent, would Doflamingo really let her grind experience in the colosseum?
Makoto looked at Rebecca, who was currently in casual clothes, looking like an ordinary little girl except for the sword she carried, and said, "This outfit of yours..."
Rebecca was confused, not understanding the meaning behind Makoto's words, and scratched her head: "Is there something wrong with my outfit? Oh, I was originally going to change into my armor, but I saw you, sir, and was in a hurry to talk to you, so I haven't had time to change yet..."
Makoto's expression was a bit strange: "What kind of armor do you plan to change into?"
Then, Rebecca took out from behind her the armor she was talking about.
But 'armor' wasn't really the right word… it was more like a bikini.
A pale yellow breastplate that covered only the vital areas, and a pair of similarly pale yellow armored shorts for the lower body.
It would leave over 95% of her skin exposed.
Although this was expected, Makoto still couldn't help but find it ridiculous.
"Did your father recommend that, or is it your own personal preference?"
Makoto was genuinely curious: how could Rebecca go into battle wearing something like that?
Was it her father's recommendation? That couldn't be, right? After all, Kyros was a man with considerable personal charm, especially in contrast to Oden. There's no way he'd let his daughter dress like that.
"Father? I don't have a father."
Rebecca was stunned for a moment, then explained, "When participating in battles at the Corrida Colosseum, there are weight restrictions on the equipment you can wear. The only female armor I could find that meets the weight standard is just a few sets, and this one already has more fabric than most."
Makoto was speechless again.
Alright, it seemed this was Doflamingo's doing.
One had to admit, that bastard had quite a business sense.
Wasn't it the same principle as the female characters in Anime from his previous life having less and less fabric on their bodies?
Makoto asked, "Did you not know that the only people qualified to participate in the competition are my women?"
"I... I know, but I really need power..."
Rebecca was extremely nervous, her fingers twisting together, her eyes slightly reddening.
"That's your own business, little girl."
With that, Makoto walked past her and entered the restroom.
However, just as Makoto was about to come out, Rebecca slipped back in.
Makoto froze for a moment, feeling as if something similar had happened before, and in that case, it was also a pink-haired girl who made the move.
"Th-that... sir..."
Rebecca's voice trembled, her face flushed as if about to bleed, but her eyes held a desperate resolve.
"Although I don't have any experience in that area, when I used to pass by Lover's Street, I saw that many men liked this kind of thing..."
With that, Rebecca gritted her teeth hard, suppressing the nervousness inside, and then—
She hugged Makoto by the waist and prepared to kneel.
Those slender arms encircled his waist, her small body pressed against his, the scalding heat transmitted through their clothes.
'Holy crap!'
Makoto barely stopped himself from pushing the girl away and quickly lifted her up.
To be honest, although Makoto did desire Rebecca, he still had his limits, okay?
A thirteen-year-old little girl, he doesn't want to mess around.
…
Half an hour later.
Rebecca walked out of the restroom.
Don't misunderstand... Makoto hadn't done anything to her. They had simply chatted.
At most, he had casually held her hand or wrapped an arm around her waist during the conversation. It was very harmonious.
"Sir, I am willing to join your command!"
Rebecca's eyes reignited with the light of hope.
"I will train hard! Once I get stronger, I will take revenge on Doflamingo!"
Although Rebecca's talent wasn't great, Makoto didn't mind having an extra person on his ship to serve tea and water.
And, incidentally, having her wear that armor-bikini on the ship.
Makoto returned to the stands and happened to run into Doflamingo on the way.
"By the way, Little Ming."
He called out to him.
"I'm taking this woman with me."
Doflamingo's expression changed instantly.
To be honest, if Makoto just wanted a woman, that would be a trivial matter.
But the problem was, this woman's identity was not ordinary!
What if she whispered in Makoto's ear to go after him?
'Damn, this was a lapse in judgment!'
"Commander!"
Doflamingo quickly approached, his face plastered with a sycophantic smile.
"This ugly little girl probably isn't worthy of you, Commander. I have a maid named Monet whose beauty far surpasses this girl's. How about—"
"No need."
Makoto waved his hand.
"She'll do."
Doflamingo cursed 'holy shit' in his heart, but really dared not refuse. He could only grit his teeth and agree.
"Y-yes... yes... whatever Commander says..."
Watching Makoto's departing figure with Rebecca, Doflamingo stood there in disarray.
His smile gradually faded, and his eyes turned gloomy.
"I need to figure out a way to leave myself an escape route..."
He murmured to himself, then turned and disappeared into the shadows of the colosseum.