"The coffee's not bad."
Dimon took a sip from the cup Doflamingo had brought and gave a rare compliment. The Celestial Dragons' daily luxuries were the finest of the fine—coffee included.
"As long as Big Bro's satisfied."
Doflamingo's heart raced. If his mother walked in and found a wanted kidnapper—that kidnapper—in her son's room? The Knights of God had the right to execute other Celestial Dragons. Their family would be finished.
A knock. His mother's voice.
Doffy jolted, glanced at the door, and hissed, "Big Bro, hide—if my mom sees you, we're done!"
No answer. He spun back—Dimon was already gone, only the cup still steaming on the desk.
"Doffy? Are you in there? Mommy's coming in."
The latch turned. His mother stepped in, eyes mildly puzzled.
"Mother."
"Who were you talking to?" She noticed the two cups, both tasted. Smiling, she added, "So you did have a friend over."
That was a kidnapper, Doffy griped inwardly. And I'm his accomplice.
"No. I was… talking to myself."
"Really? Then who drank that cup?"
"I did."
It was a clumsy lie, but she was his mother—she didn't press. "Lunch is ready. Come eat on time, yes?"
"Yes, Mother."
—
Wano — Shogun's Manor
In the center of a summoning array, Dimon glanced down at the Devil Fruit lying quietly within the sigil. He pulled out the battered compendium, compared the swirls, and confirmed: Paramecia—Age-Age Fruit.
He didn't hesitate. He bit.
"Yep—disgusting. Bitter, even." Straight into his personal top-ten worst flavors.
He grimaced and stopped at the first mouthful; with Devil Fruits, one bite was enough. Everything after was just vile garnish—like the Immortality Wine, which lost its miracle the instant four cups had been poured, becoming mere vintage.
"Let's test it."
He closed his eyes. The power threaded through him with eerie familiarity; he knew how to trigger it, as if he'd been born with it.
"I'm already undying… so can age still change?"
He tried it anyway—added fifty years.
His face visibly creased; skin wrinkled; his back hunched. A seventy-year-old stared back from the mirror.
He opened his mouth—teeth still pearl white. He nicked a palm— the wound sealed instantly.
A few trials later, he had the gist.
"Appearance only—doesn't touch the core immortality. And it's temporary. Drop the power and I'm back."
A thought; youth flowed back into his limbs.
Changing age was the side dish. The entrée was twisting the future.
"Nika's future."
Dimon's gaze sharpened. In his mind, he pictured himself as the Sun God.
The destined Fruit, the one that chooses its bearer—someday it would choose Monkey D. Luffy, who'd awaken into that dancing, laughing god. But here and now, Dimon twisted that future.
In the mirror, his hair went white. His clothes blanched to a chalky sheen. A pure-white flame-scarf unfurled around him.
An animal-type awakening silhouette.
"…So it works."
His mouth curled. "But—no Drums of Liberation. A bootleg, huh?"
When Luffy entered Nika form, the heartbeat itself became those drums; Dimon's didn't. The best perk—that ridiculous stamina snap-back—was missing. That was the Age-Age Fruit's flaw: you could inhabit a possible future, but not always at 100% authenticity.
He dismissed the power and called Abel.
"Where's the kid?"
"Miss Orsaya is watching him."
The "little princess" wasn't little anymore—fourteen when they'd first met, now seven years later already grown. At twenty, she'd drunk the Immortality Wine; she, too, was undying.
"Have her bring the child."
"Yes, Lord Dimon."
A short while later, Orsaya arrived with Shamrock. "He's here, my lord."
She'd grown into her looks—"girls change at eighteen" indeed.
The five-year-old trembled under Dimon's gaze. Dimon couldn't be bothered to banter with a toddler; he picked the boy up and set him in the array.
"Your father does care—you fetched a high enough ransom. Lucky brat."
The pentagram flashed; the boy vanished—returned to Mariejois.
Last night, after knocking Doffy out, Dimon had seeded sigils all over the Holy Land. It was his garden now: come and go as he pleased.
Watching the space go still, Orsaya's expression turned… disappointed.
"We're just letting him go?"
"What, you like kids?"
"No, Lord Dimon." A sweet, sick smile curved her lips. "He's a Celestial Dragon, isn't he? I was hoping you'd give him to me—so I could cut him into tiny little pieces. One by one~"
Dimon went silent. He didn't remember when she'd grown into this flavor of yandere. Then again, after what the Celestial Dragons did to her kingdom, the hate made sense.
After a few idle lines, Dimon left the manor. He wanted to fight Kaido and trial the Nika power in live fire.
These days, the Beasts Pirates' main base sat in the Flower Capital. Their numbers had swollen past 3,000—some outside raiders, and plenty of Wano natives who'd thrown in with the occupiers.
Dimon walked the capital's streets. The townsfolk bowed as he passed, warmly respectful to their Shogun.
"Lord Shogun!"
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