Chapter 21: Welcome to Gilded Cages and Dusty Smiles
If you ever find yourself in a scorched ghost town in the middle of a desert, one of two things has happened:
1: You've wandered into a particularly aggressive tourism campaign for "Post-Apocalyptic Wastelands Weekly."
2: A man in a diaper and sunglasses obliterated everything for fun.
Unfortunately for Team Asuma, it was number two.
"Wow," Choji said, standing in the middle of what used to be a village square. "This place looks like a barbecue where the meat fought back and won."
Shikamaru crouched beside a charred support beam, brushing dust from a blackened metal insignia buried in the sand. It bore the sigil of Alabasta's original royal army—the real one, not the pirate cosplay club currently running things.
"This was a resistance cell," he muttered. "Small, but organized. Probably hidden from the main cities."
Gaara knelt in silence, his fingers brushing the sand with a reverence that felt like prayer. He could still feel it. The vibrations of chaos, the echo of destruction. Even after days—maybe weeks—his sand whispered of agony and sudden death.
"There are no bodies," Shino said, voice flat. His insects swarmed cautiously around what used to be a shelter. "Nothing organic left. Someone didn't just attack. They erased."
That's when they saw it.
In the middle of the wreckage, half-buried in a collapsed hut, was a calling card.
A literal card.
Bright pink, crumpled from heat, with a doodle of a baby face in sunglasses, puckered lips, and the word "Smooch!" written in bubble letters.
"Oh, come on," Choji groaned. "Who does that?!"
"Senor Pink," Shikamaru said, his face darkening. "Donquixote family. Wears a bonnet and a pacifier. Punches through concrete like it's warm tofu."
"Ridiculous," Shino muttered.
"Lethal," Gaara corrected.
There was a long pause.
Choji squinted. "So, this guy... fights in a diaper?"
"He swims through solid rock," Shikamaru said. "With swimming goggles. That's not a metaphor. He swims through walls."
"And his hobbies include kissing the air and vaporizing rebels," Shino added.
"Why?" Choji asked. "Just... why?"
Shikamaru stood up, brushing sand from his pants, looking like he wanted a nap and a long conversation with the universe about bad life choices. "Because Doflamingo hires maniacs. Crocodile wanted to be a king. Doflamingo? He wants a kingdom that laughs while it burns."
Gaara didn't say anything. He didn't have to. The way he stared at the blackened ruins said everything. He'd seen destruction before. He'd been destruction before.
But this? This wasn't conquest. This was cruelty wrapped in comedy. And that made it worse.
"We've got proof now," Shikamaru said. "Viola might be keeping the cities shiny and happy. But when people resist—really resist—the masks come off."
"They left no one alive," Shino said. "They wanted this to be a message."
"Then we'll make sure they get a reply," Gaara said quietly.
Choji reached into his pack and pulled out a snack bar. "You know what? I was gonna save this for lunch, but I'm calling this an 'end-of-innocence' kind of snack."
"Make it quick," Shikamaru said. "We've got to regroup with the others and plan our next move."
As they turned away from the ruins, the wind picked up. It scattered sand over the remnants of the resistance, as if trying to bury the evidence before anyone else found it.
But it was too late. Team Asuma had seen behind the curtain.
And no matter how many smiling faces Viola placed at the front of the stage… they now knew who was waiting in the wings.
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There are two kinds of deserts: the kind that want to kill you with sandstorms and dehydration… and the kind that smile politely while taking everything you have, including your freedom.
Team Gai walked into the second kind.
"Okay, this is weird," Lee said, adjusting his cactus disguise for the fifth time. "Why does this town feel like one big hug from a grandma that secretly works for the mafia?"
The mining town wasn't like anything they'd expected. No screaming. No whips. No shady pirate foremen smoking cigars and laughing maniacally while waving pickaxes. Instead, the place looked like a sandblasted IKEA showroom.
Neat little houses. Running water. Fresh food. Clean uniforms. Organized schedules.
It was... disturbingly nice.
"So, just to be clear," Tenten whispered from her hawk form perched atop a metal watchtower, "this is a mining colony. Why does it smell like cinnamon bread and wholesome contentment?"
"I know," Neji muttered, perched below in the form of a desert fox. "Even the guards are smiling. Like, genuinely smiling. Not the 'I'm-going-to-punch-you-later' kind of smile."
"Maybe they're on drugs," Lee suggested helpfully.
"No," Neji said. "Worse. They're on... stability."
They spent hours moving through the town, shifting into birds, lizards, and even a suspiciously fluffy goat that got head pats from children. They watched miners haul shimmering chunks of gold and silver from the earth. They listened to evening songs, shared meals, and quiet laughter around the community square. Kids played in the sand with copper spoons. There was even a knitting club.
And not once—not once—did anyone complain.
"No one here wants to leave," Tenten whispered later that night, perching on a roof with the others in their human forms. "We saw the schedules. The pay is in food, clothing, shelter. Everyone gets it. No stress. No fear."
"Because no one's allowed to leave," Neji said, voice low. "Even if they want to. Guards don't harass people, but the walls are real. Patrols are strict. It's just... velvet prison bars."
Lee looked genuinely conflicted. "But everyone seems happy. Even I feel calmer here. There's morning yoga sessions and unlimited dried fruit."
"That's the trap," Neji said sharply. "They've been given enough comfort to stop asking questions. They've been taught not to dream."
Tenten nodded. "They don't think about the future. Just today. As long as they have enough, they don't care that Dressrosa is bleeding them dry. That once this mine is empty, they'll be tossed aside like broken tools."
"And no one outside even knows this town exists," Neji added. "Which means if Doflamingo decides to cut his losses… no one will come looking."
Lee frowned, his optimism visibly wobbling. "That's... not very youthful of them."
"No," Neji said, watching a miner tuck his child into bed through a dusty window, "but it's human."
They stayed silent for a while, watching the stars crawl across the Alabastan sky. The desert wind blew soft, like a lullaby. Somewhere below, a band played music. Someone laughed.
Tenten finally broke the silence. "So. We've seen a city that smiles while pirates rule it. A kingdom run by a kind face who turns away when her monsters rip apart rebels. And now a town of miners who traded freedom for comfort."
Lee clenched his fists. "We have to stop this."
Neji gave him a look. "We will. But first, we tell the others."
Because this wasn't about one port or one mine anymore. It was about an entire kingdom dressed up in clean robes to hide the bruises underneath.
They didn't need to see the nightmare future.
They were standing in it.
And it was smiling.
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If you ever get the chance to fly like a bird across the ocean, I highly recommend it—unless you're doing it because you're on ninja recon duty and there's a pirate warship the size of a small mountain sailing straight at you.
Then it kind of ruins the mood.
Team Kurenai—also known as the Glam Squad with Death Skills—soared over the Alabastan coast like four very stylish, very dangerous seagulls. They weren't actually seagulls (thank the immortals), but had transformed using chakra-powered wing jutsu that let them glide across the winds.
Hinata flew point, her eyes scanning ahead like a living telescope. Ino trailed behind her, doing psychic check-ins every few minutes. Tenten rode the thermals with a grin, occasionally throwing shuriken into the air to practice hitting sea gull poop mid-flight (don't ask). Kankuro, somehow, looked grumpy even as a bird.
"I don't see anything yet," Tenten called over the wind.
"I do," Hinata said, voice suddenly tight.
They all veered in instantly.
Hinata's eyes flared with the Byakugan, glowing like small pale moons. Her pupils zoomed in through clouds, across kilometers of open sea, until her vision locked onto a speck far in the distance.
Twenty kilometers out.
One massive ship.
And one spiky-headed psychopath standing at the bow.
"I see Gladius," she said quietly, "He's with the Donxiato pirates."
"Oh great," Kankuro muttered. "Mr. Explodey-Face. Just what we needed."
Ino closed her eyes and sent a psychic ping across the ninja comm-line. All teams, this is Ino. Hinata's spotted a Donxiato flagship. Gladius confirmed on deck. Approximately one hundred kilometers from the main Alabasta port and closing.
The response came fast.
Shikamaru: Figures. As soon as we start collecting receipts, the goons show up to burn the whole accounting office down.
Naruto: Tell everyone to gear up. We're stopping that ship. Capture if we can. Sink it if we can't.
Gaara: Alabasta's freedom depends on this.
Back in the sky, the decision hit like a cold gust of wind.
"Let's do this," Hinata said, her voice calm but steely.
Tenten rolled her shoulders. "I've got enough explosive kunai to sink a floating palace. Which is convenient, because that thing might as well be one."
They adjusted their flight pattern, preparing for an intercept course. The sea stretched below them like a polished mirror, and the pirate vessel grew larger with every beat of their wings.
It was a monster of a ship—black sails, red trim, and the terrifying Jolly Roger of the Donxiato pirates waving proudly. If pirate fashion had a Pinterest board, this thing would be the flagship.
Ino glanced sideways. "What are the odds they're here to deliver flowers and apologize for the past decade?"
"Somewhere between 'No' and 'When pigs fly and also do taxes,'" Kankuro said grimly, already summoning one of his puppets.