#denjiro

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Another creative ask! If you don’t mind, I kept Kanjuro platonic.

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Charlotte Katakuri

Flour Island is nothing like the other stops you’ve ever made in your wild, desperate, hopeful and perhaps idiotic search for a loving husband. The whole atmosphere smells like freshly baked bread and fried donuts, and the air is slightly hazy with drifting clouds of flour.

You try, as you always do, to fit in... flinging from café to market, asking about eligible men, accidentally sparking rumors with your bold proposals and earnest, overeager smiles. The locals are amused, sometimes even kind, but word travels quickly and suitors tend to melt away before you even get close.

You eventually meet Charlotte Katakuri. Minister of Flour, Sweet Commander, one of Big Mom's many sons, though nothing about him blends into the background, not even in a diverse crowd Totto land is known for. Even among tall men and women, he stands out. Impossibly broad-shouldered and so massive that his shadow covers you completely when you stand near him... In fact, he stands so tall and solid that it’s impossible not to notice him, and yet he moves with such deliberate calm that his presence is never overwhelming.

Katakuri's crimson-purplish eyes are intense and watchful when he looks at you. His presence is commanding but never showy. He rarely speaks, but every word he does speak out loud is measured, his deep voice thrumming with a quiet gravitational field of authority. Even his silence has weight; people move aside for him in the marketplace, and his siblings and subordinates fall almost instantly in line whenever he appears. In a way, there’s a subtle power to the way he moves. Always in control and never hurried. Yet, behind the calm, the poise and his distinct scarf, you sense something relentless and deeply guarded, barely hidden out of sight.

There’s something quietly magnetic about the way he listens once you found the courage to truly talk to him, how he answers every question with careful honesty and a deep, rumbling voice. His politeness is a welcome change from the many, flustering rejections you’re used to, and for a moment, you actually dare to hope. You don’t even mind the immense height difference. Instead, you find it almost comforting. His shadow and presence a constant, silent shield against the surrounding chaos. For the first time, someone seems willing to hear you out. Not just as another passerby, but as a real person with dreams worth listening to.

You linger longer than you should, drawn in by Katakuri’s respectful manner and the way he shields you, almost automatically. He seems to have a sixth sense for trouble, quietly stepping between you and the crowd whenever things get overwhelming. He never laughs at your hopes, never mocks your enthusiasm, never looks away when you ramble about your next adventure or the kind of partner you’re hoping to find. Instead, he asks about your past travels, these hopes and dreams of yours, your reasons for wanting a partner so badly at all. He listens more than he speaks, but every word seems to land with thoughtful weight. When he does respond, his voice is so steady and deep you feel it in your chest, and his advice- sometimes about life, sometimes about the strange little joys found in Big Mom's territory, always lingers in your thoughts long after you part ways.

Still, there’s something strange beneath the surface. Katakuri always knows what you’re about to say. Sometimes he responds to questions you haven’t spoken yet, his words echoing your own thoughts and leaving you uncertain whether you’re just that easy to read, or if there’s something else at work. You catch him watching you. Not just with those intense eyes, but with a deeper, almost unnatural focus that makes you shiver. At times it feels like he’s reading the very future off your face, sensing every flicker of thought before you even realize it yourself.

And the city itself starts to feel smaller, the crowds thinner, your options for a place to breath quietly shrinking as Katakuri’s presence grows more constant. Almost… suffocating. 

When you finally work up the courage to leave, you approach him with an awkward, bittersweet smile, already seeing a subtle frown form above his scarf. You hesitate for a moment, almost second-guessing yourself as you search for the right words, your thoughts stumbling over one another, your heart beating so fast it feels like it might burst through your chest. You glance up, meeting his eyes, and in that moment, it feels as if the whole world is holding its breath.

“I think I’ll keep traveling, and leave Totto Land behind me,” you say, forcing the words out gently, even though your voice trembles. “Maybe my future husband is somewhere else in the New World.”

Your words hang in the air, almost fragile, echoing quietly between you in the soft stillness of the afternoon. You try to steady your hands, feigning casualness you don’t feel. Katakuri’s gaze never wavers, but you can sense the way his presence suddenly shifts- a subtle tension.

Katakuri doesn’t react. Not outwardly. His gaze remains calm and his answer measured. But there’s a subtle shift in the air. Something similar to the tightening of invisible threads. “You don’t need to look any further,” he says quietly. “You’ve already found what you’re searching for.”

When you turn to leave after a moment of shocked silence, Katakuri is already there, blocking the exit with all the silent certainty of a massive wall. “Stay,” he rumbles, the gentle edge to his voice gone, replaced by something almost unyielding. “You belong with me.”

Suddenly, Flour Island feels more like a gilded cage than a comforting haven. And as you stubbornly try to slip past anyhow, you soon realize: escaping Katakuri’s watchful eyes and superhuman predictions might take a lot more than just your usual luck, and much more than a little skill and courage.

Denjiro

You’ve always been too much for most people. Too intense, too hopeful, too quick to blurt out marriage before the man in question even finishes his drink. And so, after a string of rejections, you find yourself in Wano, a land of secrets and cherry blossoms, danger hiding under every paper lantern’s glow. Under Kaido’s rule, you should be terrified. Instead, you’re only more determined to find the husband of your dreams.

Your search is... predictably... a disaster. Every man you meet in Wano is running for his life, outright terrified of you. You barely have time to introduce yourself before they’re making excuses, slamming doors or vanishing into the night. Word spreads quickly: there’s a strange foreigner on the prowl, desperate for love, scaring off every eligible man in the capital and beyond.

Then there’s Denjiro.

You first notice him in the background, watching you from behind a fan or a shadowed veranda, eyes sharp and calculating behind that calm, confident smile. At first, you’re flattered. A handsome, powerful man paying attention to you! But there’s something about the way he looks at you: like he’s memorizing every gesture, every word. It’s intense, almost possessive. You barely sense the danger, the way his gaze lingers a little too long, the way he always seems to appear whenever you’re at your lowest, offering a comforting word, a gentle touch, a rescue from a sticky situation… or a would-be suitor...

He starts to help you. He subtly protects you from Kaido’s men by steering them off your scent, offers you sanctuary, gives you advice, even finds you safe places to hide when the heat is on. You find yourself drawn to him despite yourself. After all, he’s witty, endlessly resourceful, and so heartbreakingly gentle with you.

Sometimes he lets you glimpse his more vulnerable side, sharing quiet moments beneath the paper lanterns, speaking softly about hope for Wano’s future, or about dreams he once had, long before Kaido’s shadow darkened the country. But each time you try to bring up your mission, to chase after another potential husband, he finds a way to steer you back to him. He never raises his voice or tries to argue. Instead, he simply gives you a knowing look, and with a single sentence; calm and sure, reminds you of the dangers outside his protection. Each failed attempt seems to amuse him more than annoy him, as though he enjoys watching your determination burn itself out. “You’re too precious for them,” he murmurs one night, his hand brushing yours, “They could never understand you. But I do.” That soft touch lingers.

You try to resist, and yet everywhere you go, Denjiro is there. Sometimes just a shadow in the corner, sometimes almost beside you in the crowd. The more you try to escape, the more Denjiro closes in, always patient, always smiling. Flowers appear in your temporary room, your favorite treats find their way into your hands, suitors start to simply… disappear. You overhear rumors in the market: men who were once put off by your advances leave the city altogether.

Denjiro becomes your greatest protector, and your greatest captor. Even when you manage to evade him, slipping away into the busy night markets, disguising yourself with borrowed clothes, or hiding among the crowds, Denjiro somehow finds you. He’s always a step ahead, anticipating your routes, predicting your next move. There are moments you catch a glimpse of him watching from the rooftops or reflected in a polished shop window, his expression unreadable but his intent clear. His presence is inescapable, his affections overwhelming, wrapping around you like a silken cord.

You realize then, too late: Denjiro doesn’t just want to protect you. He wants to keep you for himself. And in the depths of his careful smile, you understand that he has no intention of ever letting you go.

Kanjuro

You are a hopeless romantic bouncing across the Grand Line with starry eyes and a large bouquet of overblown expectations. You dream of a grand, sweeping love and a husband who’ll sweep you off your feet alongside it. Unfortunately, your approach, which is pretty direct, dramatic, and just a tad overwhelming, tends to send men running for the hills before you even get to the first date.

But now, by some wild twist of fate, you’ve infiltrated Wano, forcing your small ship up the waterfall. It’s dangerous for any outsider to be here for as long as Kaido rules, but your quest for true love knows no bounds, nor even a shred of common sense. You sneak through forests and bustling markets, armed with only your charm and a series of increasingly disastrous marriage proposals. Somehow, your reputation as *that intense foreigner looking for a husband* spreads like a wildfire. Suitors vanish at the first sight of you; doors literally slam in your face.

Then there’s Kanjuro.

He finds you fascinating, haven stumbled upon you by cheer chance. Maybe it’s your unnatural and relentless optimism. Maybe it’s the way you don’t seem to belong anywhere, and yet you refuse to give up. He becomes your shadow, popping up whenever you’re at your most frustrated or alone. At first, he helps, pulling you out of trouble, rescuing you from near-captures by Kaido’s patrols. He offers you local snacks, chides you for being too open, and sometimes draws you little comforting animals in ink that hop around and cheer you up. His platonic devotion is relentless. He insists you stay with him, under his watchful protection, because he *can’t bear to see someone so pure-hearted come to harm.*

The problem is, you sense something off about him. There’s a sharpness in his smile, a coldness in his eyes when you mention wanting to find a husband. Whenever you talk about leaving or continuing your search, he becomes almost irritated. His voice drops, soft but ominous. The more you try to explain that you want romantic love, the tighter his grip becomes on your safety, your freedom and your time.

You realize you can’t accept what he’s offering. He only wants you to be safe, as long as you’re with him. So you do what you do best: run. You duck and dodge, using every trick you’ve learned from your failed suitor-hunting to slip through his fingers. But Kanjuro is nothing if not persistent. His painted creations chase you through forests and even over rooftops. He appears at every inn and alley, always smiling, always insisting it’s for your own good. Even when you finally make it out of Wano, breathless and alone, you can’t shake the feeling that a pair of painted eyes are watching you from every cloud, waiting for you to stumble so he can rescue you all over again.

Rob Lucci

You’re not sure what you expected when you came to Water 7. Just that the sun on the canals and the promise of new faces gave you hope that, maybe here, your quest for a husband wouldn’t end in another disaster. You join the lively city life, all sunshine and ambition, your heart forever pinned to your sleeve as you make the rounds. But your bold declarations, your too-bright hopes, and your habit of proposing after the second conversation still get you the same results: nervous laughter, closed doors, and rumors about the strange romantic foreigner who loves too much and much too loudly.

But one man stands out from the rest to you: Rob Lucci.

He’s quiet, composed, always watching. Working as a shipwright at Galley-La, he never says anything, but when he does, he only does so in private, forcing you to listen. His dark gaze follows you as you flit from canal to dockside, and sometimes you catch his pet pigeon, Hattori, watching you too. For a while, you think it’s just your imagination. Then he starts showing up wherever you are: at the market, on one of the many bridges, even at the café where you nurse your wounded pride with strong coffee and sweeter dreams.

Lucci’s presence is subtle at first… Until it isn’t. He doesn’t flirt, but he asks questions when no one is around. Simple ones at first: Where are you from? How long will you stay? Who do you live with? The inquiries slip into conversations so easily that you hardly notice him collecting details about your daily life. He learns your routines; the path you walk home, your favorite baker, which fruit vendor makes you laugh. He appears when you least expect it: a silent observer in the background as you chat with friends, a calm presence on the docks when you pause to watch the sunset.

He steps in when a drunk gets too close, his eyes cool as he wordlessly forces the man to leave. The drunk leaves with barely a protest, intimidated by something cold and dangerous in Lucci’s stare. He’s polite, helpful, almost alarmingly calm, so measured that you wonder if anything could ever truly disturb his composure. When you drop something in the market, he’s the one who hands it back. If it rains, he’s beside you beneath a shared awning, making no move to leave until you do. There’s a cold precision to the way he interacts with the world, a distance that’s oddly magnetic, and people naturally move out of his way. Even Hattori, always silent on his shoulder, seems to watch you with more than animal-like curiosity.

You start to notice how often you see him, how your world seems to shrink around the places where he waits. Before you realize it, he’s always there, and the rest of Water 7 seems to melt away in his presence. You find yourself anticipating when he’ll appear next, not sure if you’re relieved or unnerved.

One quiet evening, when the city glows gold under the lamplight and the air is heavy with salt and possibility, Lucci sits beside you on the edge of a canal. Hattori perches on his shoulder, always, and as silent as ever. The water reflects the sky in ripples, and for a moment, you almost believe this is just another chance encounter. But Lucci breaks the silence with that level, unreadable tone. "You’re still searching for a husband," he says, voice so flat you nearly miss the intent behind it. "You could stop looking. I could be your answer. You should consider... marrying me instead."

The request isn’t a question. It’s a statement. A verdict as cold and inevitable as steel. He doesn’t look away, and you realize there’s no warmth or hope in his eyes... Only certainty. Something in his gaze tells you he isn’t exactly asking for love, or partnership, or even companionship.

The city noise blurs in your ears as you sense the dangerous edge behind his offer, the possessive intent that chills you deeper than the night air. Somewhere deep inside, your Observation Haki flares to life, warning you of the darkness lurking beneath the surface. A hunter’s intent hidden beneath a mask of civility.

You smile, nervous, and mumble an excuse, then run. You slip through crowds, darting down back alleys, using every ounce of intuition and Observation Haki to sense his pursuit and keep out of sight.

Lucci quickly noticed, and is silent and relentless. A shadow gliding across the city’s rooftops and narrow bridges as he gives chase. You can feel the pressure of his presence at every turn, partly notice the weight of his resolve as he hunts you with the same patience he uses in his other life. As a predator hiding in plain sight.

But you’re not helpless. You’re clever, and your instincts guides you away from his gaze, keeps you one step ahead. Even as his footsteps echo behind you, and the city tightens like a trap, you manage to slip away- vanishing into the labyrinth of Water 7, heart pounding, planning to find a ship and completely free yourself from the man who's love seems to be as cold and certain as death itself.

Sasaki

You should have known Wano would be a disaster. You, the ever-hopeful, overzealous romantic, sailing into a country ruled by monsters, thinking maybe... just maybe... there’d be a single eligible husband waiting for you. Instead, all your bold, heartfelt marriage proposals and too-eager confessions just send potential suitors running for their lives, leaving doors slammed, tea spilled, and gossip running rampant. It’s not your fault you love loudly. But in Wano, it’s dangerous to be noticed, especially by the wrong person.

And that’s how you caught Sasaki’s eye.

He’s big, loud, impossible to miss himself. At first, his boisterous confidence and easy laugh seem like a welcome change. He treats you almost like an equal, brags about his strength, and tries (badly) to impress you. There’s something oddly charming about how terrible he is at flirting, until you realize he’s dead serious (much too serious), and you’re not sure you want anything to do with him. When you gently reject him, his pride turns sour. His attention, once clumsy and almost sweet, sharpens to something possessive.

You sense the shift. Suddenly, you can’t go anywhere in the Flower Capital without a pair of armored Beasts Pirates trailing your tail, their rough voices asking for you by name. Sasaki himself appears at corners, at bars, even at the shrines, arms crossed and eyes glinting with frustrated affection. "You should be honored, you know! Not everyone gets my attention. You could do a lot worse than me! Like Who's-Who!" he calls out, voice booming across the crowd, making you want to disappear below the floorboards.

When you run, because of course you run, he doesn’t chase you alone. He sends his men, and not quietly. They thunder through streets, their armor clanking, frightening vendors and bystanders alike, turning your desperate escape into a city-wide show. Children peek out from behind sliding doors, grown men hide behind barrels. Shopkeepers abandon their stalls when they hear your name shouted, and even the damned yakuza start to keep their distance.

You scramble through winding alleys, ducking under fluttering laundry, only to hear the roar of Sasaki’s orders echoing from blocks away. Sometimes you catch a glimpse of him riding atop the back of one of the SMILE users, waving a hand dismissively as if corralling the entire city was nothing more than a mild inconvenience.

It’s not the romantic adventure you wanted. Instead of flowers and poetry, you leave a trail of toppled fruit carts and terrified citizens in your wake. Sasaki is always a step behind, bellowing orders and laughing off your resistance. He stands at intersections with his arms crossed, waiting patiently for you to reappear, convinced you’ll come around eventually, or be cornered into staying. Every failed attempt seems to only feed his stubborn confidence, as if your resistance is some kind of thrilling game to him.

Every escape attempt you make is met with double the effort to catch you. His men patrol the rooftops, peer down wells, and search crowded markets, while others question anyone who might have seen you. Sometimes you almost make it out by slipping through secret passageways and hiding in the gardens of sympathetic townsfolk, only to run smack into another one of Sasaki’s armored goons somehow. They’re not cruel, but their presence is intimidating, blocking off every possible escape with ease. The threat is always there, wrapped in the false promise of affection. The city itself starts to close in on you: strangers point you out, whispering about "the one Sasaki’s after," while others simply look away, not wanting to draw attention. The realization hits you: Sasaki doesn’t just want you. He’s determined to have you, and if he has to turn Wano upside down to get his way, then he will do just that.

⛓️Loki⛓️