Chapter 53: "The Sand Prince and the Pumpkin Girl"
(In which Conis finds her voice, Gaara gives a TED Talk with sand, and the council room gets a bit flustered.)
The Skypiean palace was a work of divine architecture—ivory cloud columns, golden bell motifs, and hallways that shimmered like the inside of a dial. But inside the throne room, the atmosphere was anything but serene.
Gran Fall, the benevolent and perpetually exhausted leader of Skypiea, sat on his airy throne like a man carrying the weight of several metric tons of political nonsense. Across from him stood Wyper, the Berserker, all jagged edges, crossed arms, and a resting glare that could break glass.
"This is not what heroes deserve," Wyper said flatly, his face barely restrained thunder. "They rang the bell. They changed our world. And now we're supposed to sign up with the same system that wants to label them criminals?"
Gran Fall took a breath. Possibly his fifteenth deep breath in the last hour. "We're not signing up to betray anyone, Wyper. We're ensuring we exist long enough to choose our own fate."
"They wouldn't dare touch us if we stand tall."
"Yes, and they would touch us with a fleet of warships if we bark at every passing dog," Gran Fall replied, unusually firm. "I respect your fire. But I have to lead a people—not just a warrior clan."
Wyper's jaw tightened. "The Straw Hats are our friends."
"They still are," Gran Fall said calmly. "A piece of paper won't change that. If they return, we'll protect them. That's what allies do."
A sharp knock at the door interrupted the tension. A young guard skidded in, out of breath and very aware he'd just walked into a philosophical brawl.
"My lords," he stammered, "a battle has broken out. At the Pumpkin Cloud Café."
Gran Fall blinked. "You mean the one with the fox-shaped cream dispensers?"
"...Yes."
Wyper stepped forward, hands clenched. "Let me guess. Smoker?"
The guard nodded sheepishly.
"Tch. This is what respect looks like to the World Government?" Wyper's voice dropped like a blade. "Picking fights in our streets? In a café? With tourists?!"
Gran Fall closed his eyes and rubbed his temples. "Sky above, I'm going to need a new tea blend for this…"
Wyper was already pacing. "He provoked a fight, endangered civilians, disrespected our territory—"
"And we will respond," Gran Fall cut in, voice cool and final. "But not with fire. Not yet."
Wyper stopped. "So we do nothing?"
"We wait," Gran Fall said. "We gather the facts. We invite them to explain themselves. And then we decide."
Wyper frowned, the fire in his chest burning hot—but he bowed, begrudgingly. "For now. But one more step out of line…"
"I'll hand you the torch myself," Gran Fall promised.
In the halls of the floating palace, diplomacy hadn't died yet. But it was definitely on life support, sipping tea and praying the next visitor didn't bring a jitte.
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Gaara:
Conis had never been inside the Grand Palace's diplomatic chamber before, and frankly, it showed.
Her legs were perfectly still, her back straight, and her expression very polite—but inside, she was fairly certain her heart had swapped places with her stomach. Possibly even taken up residence in her left sandal.
Gaara of the Sand stood beside her, calm and unbothered, as if he were simply taking a morning walk through the clouds and not about to address the most powerful figures in all of Skypiea. His robes barely fluttered, and his gourd hovered behind him like an ever-present reminder that this was no ordinary tourist. This was a very serious ninja prince.
Conis adjusted her scarf, trying not to fidget.
Across the long white-marble table, Gran Fall, the regal and perpetually tired leader of Skypiea, was nursing his third cup of warm skyberry tea. Beside him stood Wyper, arms folded, expression skeptical enough to shatter dials with a glance.
A knight stepped into the room, saluted, and handed over a freshly inked scroll containing the incident report from the Pumpkin Cloud Café.
"I swear," Gran Fall muttered, squinting at it, "if I read the word 'bazooka' one more time today…"
Conis cleared her throat, stepped forward, and tried very hard to sound like someone who belonged in a political summit and not someone who once sold candied cloud-nuts to passing waver tourists.
"Lord Gran Fall, Captain Wyper… I'd like to clarify the misunderstanding." She bowed. "The skirmish at the café was not due to malice. Captain Smoker mistook Gaara here for someone named… Crocodile, apparently a known criminal from the Blue Sea."
Wyper snorted. "That's a new one. Mistaking a quiet sand kid for a lizard mob boss."
Conis smiled nervously. "Well… Gaara does use sand. It was an honest, if… smoky mistake."
Gran Fall sighed. "And the fight?"
"Captain Smoker attacked first," Gaara said, voice low and clear. "Shino, my comrade, responded to defend me. I asked him not to escalate… but he did."
There was a beat of silence. Wyper raised a brow. "So… the bug boy was the muscle?"
"Yes," Gaara replied.
"And you… just stood there?"
"I was speaking to Conis."
Wyper blinked. "Mid-fight?"
"Yes."
Gran Fall coughed into his tea. "That's… bold."
"I thought so too," Conis muttered, cheeks turning pink.
To drive the point home, Gaara raised one hand and summoned a ripple of sand from his gourd. In midair, the sand formed into a soft, swirling diagram of the café incident—complete with tiny re-creations of Smoker turning to mist, Shino's bug barrage, and Naruto eating a stray éclair.
It was, frankly, adorable.
"Smoker overreacted," Gaara explained, as the little sand-Smoker batted away a hornet. "It caused civilian panic, minor structural damage, and frosting-related injuries. Shino merely contained the threat."
"...He made a sand puppet show," Wyper whispered.
"It's very good," Conis added proudly.
Gran Fall rubbed his temples. "Alright. So we're not dealing with spies or invaders, just… hyperactive children and over-caffeinated Marines."
"Actually," Gaara said softly, "Smoker had not yet consumed sufficient coffee before he saw me."
Gran Fall nodded slowly. "That explains everything."
He turned to a knight by the door. "Send word to the Cloudhold. Release the one called Shino."
The knight saluted and rushed off.
"As for Smoker…" Gran Fall eyed the scroll again. "He destroyed seven chairs, an umbrella stand, and traumatized three baristas. He'll need to pay damages. Set bail at twelve thousand Sky Berries."
"That's three cake carts," Conis whispered to Gaara.
He nodded solemnly. "A worthy price."
Wyper, for all his usual crankiness, chuckled. "Alright. If the sand prince says so."
As the sand-display gently crumbled back into Gaara's gourd, Conis looked up at him with something new in her eyes—a quiet awe.
He wasn't flashy. He wasn't loud. But he had defended her, explained the truth, and even made a tiny sand fox on the way there.
In the privacy of her thoughts, she admitted something startlingly true.
I think I might be falling for him.
And beside her, Gaara—stoic, feared, never-quite-at-home Gaara—glanced her way and let a tiny grain of sand drift into her palm in the shape of a pumpkin.
He was thinking the same thing.
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Ino:
To say Ino, Hinata, and Sakura were on a mission would be accurate… if the mission involved flying on a small, overly cheerful whale through floating cloud markets while arguing over the shade of a scarf.
Laboon, the adorable winged whale with the temperament of a labrador and the wingspan of a small airship, flapped cheerfully above the cloud roads, singing a bubbly tune that sounded suspiciously like a nursery rhyme—if sung by a foghorn. He'd been borrowed from Kiba, who had said, "Just don't let him eat another flagpole."
"Okay, that pink one is cute," Ino said, leaning over the side of the saddle-shaped cloud seat to peer at a boutique shaped like a bubble tea cup. "But it's a bit too similar to your normal outfit, Sakura."
Sakura rolled her eyes. "What's wrong with sticking to what works?"
"What works," Ino said dramatically, flipping her hair, "is not repeating last year's color palette when you're trying to impress a guy who wears orange like it's a religion."
Hinata, sitting in the middle, tugged shyly at the hem of a flowing Skypiean-style cloud dress. It had silver inlays that shimmered like moonlight and hugged her frame gently without screaming, "LOOK AT ME."
"I-I think this is nice," she murmured.
Both Ino and Sakura turned to look—and immediately squealed.
"That's it," Sakura declared. "That's the one."
"You look like a sky princess," Ino agreed, already dragging her toward the boutique.
"But—Naruto-kun—won't he—"
"Will fall over." Ino winked. "And then we'll laugh and pretend we didn't plan it."
Once inside, the boutique was a pastel fever dream of dials, floating fabric, and salesgirls with wings. There were Shandian warrior jackets with feathered hoods, cloud-pressed sandals that let you bounce across the air, and sunglasses that sparkled when detecting lies. Ino immediately tried on five pairs. Sakura picked a red-and-gold Shandian coat that flared out when she spun—and Hinata chose two dial-powered hair clips that gently kept her fringe out of her eyes.
"I want to look good and blast people with style," Sakura said, striking a pose as a dial bracelet sent sparkles flying from her sleeves.
"Function and fashion," Ino nodded, picking up a perfume dial. "Do you think this smells like confidence or trauma?"
Hinata giggled. "Naruto-kun might like that."
But the crown jewel of their trip awaited in a hidden garage on the edge of Cloud Market Street: a dial-powered bike—one they had special-ordered the day before after seeing Naruto eye the Skypiean tech like a kid in a candy store.
And this wasn't just any bike.
It was gorgeous.
The frame gleamed in matte black with sleek orange flame decals running down the sides, its dial engine purring gently like a summoned lion taking a nap. Two curved handlebars, silver-gold accents, and cloud tires that shimmered in the sun. It had been designed to mimic a Harley Davidson—because as Ino had explained, "If he's gonna ride, he's gonna ride in style."
Sakura turned to Hinata, who was practically glowing. "He's gonna freak out."
Ino grinned. "Like, 'Oh-my-kami-is-this-a-biker-phase' freak out."
Hinata nodded shyly. "I hope… I hope he likes it. He deserves something fun."
The girls stood around the bike in a moment of silent satisfaction. They had picked the perfect gift for their sunshine boy. The kind of gift that said: You're important. You matter. And we're watching out for you, too.
"Well," Ino said, slapping the seat, "we've got the outfits, we've got the ride—what's next?"
"Food," Sakura said instantly. "Shopping makes me hungry."
"And I want to get Naruto ramen-flavored clouds," Hinata added softly. "He mentioned them at breakfast."
Laboon let out a happy bellow from the cloud-roof, fluttering his wings as if saying, Well then, hop aboard, ladies.
As they soared off into the sun-dappled sky—bags, dials, and outfits in tow—the three kunoichi couldn't help but feel a little giddy.
Love, after all, wasn't just about feelings.
It was about knowing what kind of bike he'd love… and picking it out together.