One Piece: Starting with Sharingan, First Mate Uchiha

A gentle breeze swept through the empty upper floors of the castle tower, bringing a touch of post-rain coolness.

A faint scent of cosmetics lingered around my nose.

In the brief moment when their lips touched, a strange glint flashed in Viktor's deep eyes.

A surge of intense heat and agitation rose suddenly from deep within my abdomen.

The heat came fiercely and domineeringly, instantly coursing through my limbs and bones like an electric current.

His mind, under the impact of the heat wave, became somewhat confused and disoriented in an instant.

That was the unusual flavor mixed in with that glass of fragrant sake.

Viktor frowned slightly, instinctively reaching out his left hand to push the woman in his arms away.

However, when his large palm touched Hiyori's warm and delicate shoulder, that hand seemed to instantly possess its own independent consciousness.

Instead of pushing back, it suddenly pulled inward.

That astonishing force pulled Hiyori even tighter into his burning embrace.

Viktor slowly opened his eyes, his eyes, which had originally held a hint of mockery, were now replaced by a deep sense of primal aggression.

Pressed against the man's broad chest, Hiyori could clearly feel the unusual stiffness and astonishing heat of Viktor's body.

As she felt the arms around her waist tightening, a glimmer of light flashed in her clear, watery eyes.

This special medicine, produced in the most secluded area of ​​Wano Country, is colorless and odorless.

Once it's incorporated into alcohol, it transforms into a fiery ignition of instinct.

Even the strongest warriors on the high seas, with their steely wills, would find it difficult to resist this erosion when caught off guard.

Moreover, to ensure everything went perfectly, she had secretly increased the dosage of the sake several times over when she poured it.

A dose enough to drive a sea king into a frenzy.

She knew that in this high-stakes gamble, she, as the weaker party, had won.

There were no extra warnings, and no foreplay or transition whatsoever.

Under the influence of the drug, Victor's kiss instantly became violent and rapid.

He forcefully pried open Hiyori's fragrant tongue, and like a tyrant, he frantically conquered her mouth, stealing all her breath.

"Well……"

Amidst a chorus of rapid, intermittent breathing, Victor's strong arms began to exert force uncontrollably.

With a chilling tearing sound, he ruthlessly ripped apart the elaborate and ornate clothing worn by Hiyori.

In response to this harshness, Hiyori let out a soft moan.

She offered no resistance; instead, she obediently raised her arms and wrapped them tightly around Viktor's neck.

Her long, sharp nails dug deep into the man's broad, muscular back, leaving red marks.

The pain made the man's actions even more violent, and she endured it all.

"This is the last 'farewell drink' I, as the weak one, have prepared for you."

"Lord Victor... please remember this scent that belongs to me forever."

Victor grabbed Hiyori's slender waist and lifted her up with a sudden burst of strength.

He strode forward and pressed her heavily onto the shogun's throne, which symbolized the supreme power of Wano Country.

In the spacious and originally silent main hall of the castle tower, muffled sounds began to echo continuously.

The sounds were mixed with the ear-piercing ripping of expensive silk fabric being roughly torn apart, and the heavy breathing of the two people intertwined.

The large red candles burning on the table in the center of the hall seemed unable to withstand the heat and air currents generated by the two people's movements, and the candlelight began to flicker and dance wildly.

Two reflections on the wall flickered and overlapped under the candlelight.

The whole scene is filled with a sense of primal power.

Beside the throne, the exquisite wine jug had long since been overturned and lay on the ground.

The crisp, mellow aroma of the liquor permeated the air, intertwining with the increasingly rich scent of premium cosmetics emanating from Hiyori, creating a dazzling and decadent atmosphere.

The general's throne, for which countless ambitious men had bled and died, had now become the backdrop for this love affair.

Hiyori lay back on the throne, silently enduring the terrifying power of this man, which was like a raging storm.

Tears streamed down her face, trickling down her fair cheeks and into her hair.

Those were tears of tearing pain, or tears of relief.

She bit her red lips, using all her strength to respond.

Remember this man's warmth with your body, and etch this moment of entanglement into your memory with pain.

She tried to use this most primal method to carve a mark of her own light and sunshine deep into the soul of this arrogant man.

At this moment, Viktor completely indulged his body's instincts.

Those things that are usually firmly locked away by reason.

The pressure of battle, the ambition to conquer, and the desire to control this unfamiliar land.

Enveloped by the effects of the drug and his own desires, his pent-up emotions burst forth, pouring onto Princess Kozuki before him.

As time goes by.

On the cold wooden floor beneath the throne, the magnificent robes that had once draped neatly over Hiyori's body were now scattered everywhere.

The crane pattern, meticulously embroidered with gold thread and symbolizing nobility and purity, was mercilessly crumpled and stained with water and sweat.

Expensive silk kimonos were torn off in large pieces, scattered around like layers of broken flower petals.

Two figures rose and fell in the flickering candlelight.

At the pinnacle of power, they pushed this absurd pleasure to its climax, little by little.

Victor's strong, powerful hands gripped the woman's slender waist tightly, his movements devoid of any mercy, relentlessly unleashing his restless desire.

Hiyori's long, slender neck was held high, like a dying swan.

Her once meticulously combed black hair was now completely disheveled, cascading down like a waterfall to the edge of the throne.

While enduring that force that felt like it was about to tear her apart.

Tears streamed from the corners of her eyes, mingling with her intermittent, mournful moans.

……

As night deepened, the entire Flower Capital, having weathered the undercurrents of the day, was now quiet.

The bloody purge of the Beasts Pirates' garrison and Orochi's remnants was finally completed under the cover of night.

As the commander-in-chief of this cleanup operation, Denjiro was still wearing his signature haori.

He carried the lingering, strong stench of blood as he hurried up to the top floor of the Great Serpent Castle's keep.

He mentally organized the information he needed to report to Victor—the number of Orochi's remaining followers eliminated, the distribution of the remaining forces, and the current control status of each district.

Everything is proceeding according to plan; the coup was swift and clean.

Denjiro tiptoed to the tightly closed, ornate shoji door.

He bowed slightly and, as always, spoke softly in a respectful voice:

"Lord Victor, I apologize for disturbing you so late at night."

"The remnants of the giant serpent's forces and the spies of the beasts within the city have all been eliminated. The Flower Capital is now completely under our control..."

Before he could finish speaking, the corridor remained silent.

Denjiro frowned slightly when he received no response.

A sense of doubt arose in his heart, and he subconsciously reached out and gently pushed open the shoji door in front of him a tiny crack, wanting to see what was inside.

Immediately afterward, through that gap, Denjiro's pupils suddenly contracted, and he froze on the spot.

Inside the hall, bathed in the cool glow of the fading moonlight, he witnessed a scene he would never forget.

The aloof, demonic man was bare-chested.

Princess Guangyue, whom he had tried his best to protect, was entangled with that man, lying on the scattered silk garments.

Suppressed groans and muffled sounds clearly seeped into his ears through the crack in the door.

An indescribable shock and fear instantly swept over Denjiro's mind like a tsunami.

Almost reflexively, he slammed the door he had just opened shut again.

His heart pounded violently in his chest like a drum, his palms instantly became covered in cold sweat, and even his breathing became heavy.

Just as Denjiro was still reeling from the shock...

From the corridor and staircase at the back, came the crisp sound of several patrolling samurai.

They saw Denjiro standing alone in front of the door, looking somewhat strange, so they curiously approached him:

"What's wrong, Lord Denjiro?"

"But has Lord Victor issued any new instructions?"

Upon hearing his subordinate's question, Denjiro closed his eyes, forcibly calming the turbulent emotions churning within him.

When he turned around again, his weathered face had regained the imposing and composed demeanor befitting a powerful underworld figure.

"It's nothing. Lord Victor is resting inside; there's no one around."

"The city cleanup has just finished; the brothers have all worked hard all day."

"You all should leave now and go back to get some rest. I'll keep watch here."

Several samurai bowed respectfully and responded in low voices:

"Yes, Lord Denjiro, thank you for your hard work."

After the footsteps of his men gradually faded into the distance, they left the building with questions in their hearts.

Denjiro turned around and stood alone in front of the tightly closed door.

His eyes became incredibly deep and complex.

Like a silent stone statue, he stretched out his rough, large hand and quietly pressed the hilt of the sword at his waist.

He swallowed all his shock and questions, and faithfully became a silent guardian.