A raw snarl peeled from Varin's throat, low and guttural—something closer to a wolf's bellow than a man's cry. His muscles tensed, breath steaming even in the pouring rain. The scent of salt, smoke, and steel filled his lungs.
This man—this captain—stood between them and freedom.
That was enough.
The storm shrieked its warning, but he was already moving, boots hammering stone, claws outstretched like twin crescents of iron. Rain hissed off his skin as he surged forward, wild and unrelenting. His roar tore through the narrow alley.
Varin lunged like a thunderbolt unleashed—shoulders low, claws raking forward, legs pounding with primal force. His breath was a furnace, his heart a war drum. The alley shrank around him to a tunnel of instinct and motion—Smoker's white coat, a flag he meant to shred.
No thinking. Just blood. Just hunt.
And then—
His claws passed through.
No impact. No resistance. No tear of fabric or scream of splitting flesh. Just thick, cloying vapor—warm and suffocating like the inside of a forge—but no body.
Varin's world lurched. His boots slid across wet stone, claws slicing through air. His momentum didn't carry him into a man, but through smoke, his balance faltering as the alley yawed wide around him.
His only thoughts, sharp and brutal in the void:
Fuck. Logia.
He twisted, feral grace catching him before he hit the ground, but the tremble of confusion rippled down his arms like an aftershock. His claws were wet—but not with blood. He didn't even feel the fabric tear.
Snarling, he turned, rain hammering against his shoulders, teeth bared.
Smoker hadn't moved.
Not an inch.
The Marine captain exhaled twin trails of smoke from his nostrils like a waiting beast of his own, the cigars braced in his mouth glowing as if stoked by Varin's fury. He cocked his head slightly, jaw grinding like stone.
"You don't get it, boy. I'm not the one you can claw."
He took a single step forward, deliberate, commanding—even as smoke swirled around his feet.
Varin's claws flexed, breath fogging in the cold rain.
Luffy blinked, still catching his breath from the sprint, his soaked straw hat casting a shadow over his wide-eyed grin.
"Whoa," he said, tilting his head. "Didn't know you could go through people, Varin! That's cool!"
Varin shot him a glare over his shoulder, rain streaking down his jawline like war paint. His stance remained coiled, claws still raised toward the figure cloaked in smoke—but his eyes burned. Not from surprise. From the jagged edge of realization.
"I didn't go through him," he growled, voice rough and disbelieving. "There was nothing to hit."
Luffy blinked again, grin faltering. "Wait… huh?"
Sanji stepped forward slowly, sodden shirt clinging to his frame, a rivulet of blood snaking down his cheek. His cigarette was soaked out, but he still bit down on the end like it was armor. His eyes didn't leave Smoker.
"Tch," he muttered. "Logia."
Luffy turned toward him, brow furrowed. "What's Logia?"
Sanji's gaze flicked briefly to Luffy, then back to the Marine Captain wrapped in mist and judgment. "It means he is smoke. Not just using it—is it. You punch, kick, claw, whatever—it just goes through. Ain't like fighting a strong guy. It's like trying to fight the weather."
Rain hammered stone and flesh alike, turning the alley into a basin of slick cobble and dripping shadows.
Varin didn't blink. His claws hung low at his sides, trembling with restraint rather than exhaustion. His eyes—silver and sharp—cut through the vapor, reading the battlefield, the air, the exits. The marine captain had them boxed in with smoke and will alone. There would be no winning here. Only escaping.
"We need seastone," Varin said darkly, voice raw. "Or the sea itself if we want to touch him."
He turned his head slightly—just enough for the others to see the narrow slit of his eye, the bared fang in his cheek.
"When I say run," he growled, "you run. You don't hesitate. You don't look back. Straight to the ship. Got it?"
Sanji gave a slow nod, hand shifting toward the soaked edge of a new cigarette he wouldn't light. Luffy looked puzzled but nodded too, still peering at Smoker like the man was some kind of carnival trick.
Varin's muscles coiled.
A feral grin cut across his face like a scar reopening.
He didn't need to win.
He just needed to be faster than judgment.
A low growl vibrated in Varin's throat—animal, restrained, a storm waiting behind his tongue. The alley trembled with pressure: rain pouring in sheets, the hiss of smoke curling like veins through the air, and the distant roar of chaos behind them—cannons, shouting, boots, blades.
And above all that—
The wind.
It rose slowly, like a breath drawn from the deep lungs of the storm itself. Shutters rattled. Tarps flapped against crumbling walls. Trash and leaves spiraled in eddies across the slick stones.
Varin crouched lower.
His fingers dug into the cobblestones like a beast preparing to pounce. His eyes—feral and bright—locked on Smoker's center mass, where the form was most dense, where a man should've been. His muscles were taut cables of soaked steel beneath the rain-slick cloak.
The wind howled.
And Varin lunged.
"Now!"
His voice cracked like a whip, primal and commanding—and the others moved. Sanji grabbed Luffy by the collar, dragging him into motion before instinct could catch up. Boots skidded and splashed, but they didn't look back.
Smoker turned his head—but it was already too late.
He shifted into smoke as Varin struck.
But the gust—violent, roaring, divine—whipped through the alley at that very moment, dragging the white vapor off course, scattering it like breath on cold glass. Smoker's form broke apart, pieces of him siphoned sideways by the storm, losing cohesion for a heartbeat too long.
Varin landed in the space where Smoker should have been, claws slashing through rain and mist—but this time, he didn't stop. There was no hesitation. No second strike. He was already moving, spinning out of the landing, boots hammering pavement.
He ran.
He didn't glance back.
Not to see if Smoker was reforming.
Not to see if he was being followed.
He'd bought them seconds.
Seconds were enough.
Seconds were all he ever had.
And behind him, the wind screamed through the alley like it was laughing with him—wild and full of blood.
Varin's sprint devoured the distance in a blur of soaked stone and pounding blood. His soaked coat snapped behind him like a battered sail, claws retracting as he tore through the rain-slick streets. The wind still screamed, chasing at his heels—but Smoker didn't.
He caught sight of them ahead—Sanji dragging Luffy by the arm, the captain barely keeping pace with a grin still half-stuck to his face. Their boots slapped through puddles, their shoulders hunched against the downpour. Varin surged up beside them without a word, breath coming in hard bursts, chest heaving like a bellows.
Sanji cast a glance to his right—and startled.
"Shit, you're fast," he muttered, but his eyes narrowed behind the wet strands of blond hair. "Where's the smoke bastard?"
Luffy blinked, his hat clutched under one arm to keep it from flying off. "He's not chasing?"
Varin didn't slow. "Wind caught him. Pulled him apart mid-phase. Couldn't reform fast enough."
Sanji arched a brow. "So that was the plan?"
Varin nodded once. "Only thing that'd break his form long enough. I aimed for nothing—I aimed for time."
Luffy threw back his head and laughed, breathless and wild. "That was awesome! We gotta get you to plan more often!"
Varin grunted, his focus forward. "We'll celebrate when we're on the water. Until then—move."
They thundered around another corner, boots carving arcs through mud and rain. Behind them, the alley where Smoker had stood was still choked in swirling haze, but there was no sound of pursuit. No clash of boots. No barked commands. Just the wind, and the storm, and their own breathing.
Luffy finally shoved his hat back onto his head, rain still pouring off the brim. "Guess we got lucky, huh?"
Varin didn't answer. His silver eyes scanned every rooftop, every shadowed stoop.
The harbor wasn't far now, but every step forward felt like a wager—the kind made with blood, smoke, and soaked stone. Varin's boots hit hard and fast, his frame moving like a beast unchained, shoulders hunched forward, ready to maul the next wall fate dared throw in his path. Beside him, Luffy and Sanji kept pace, the rain now washing through every layer of cloth like it meant to drown them where they stood.
The street narrowed again—flanked by shuttered shops and darkened balconies—but they didn't stop. Didn't pause. Not even to breathe.
"Oi," Sanji huffed, kicking aside a half-collapsed crate in their path. "That was some damn clever thinking, furball."
Luffy leapt over a stack of fallen barrels, landing with a squelch of mud. "Man, I didn't even see what happened! One second you were all grr-rah!, then fwoosh! and he was gone!"
Varin barked a dry laugh. "Not gone. Just scattered."
Luffy grinned wide. "Still cool!"
Sanji blew out a breath through his nose, smoke rising from the soggy cigarette hanging off his lip, half-sparking in protest. "Logia's are a pain. He'll get serious next time, that trick won't work ever again."
"We're not walking at all if we don't make the water," Varin growled, his voice low, but pulsing with the blood-heat of tension. "He won't stay scattered. He'll reform, and then he'll hunt."
Luffy was still smiling, but there was something tighter about his eyes now. "Will he catch up?"
"Maybe. Depends on how long the wind pulled him off course. We've got a head start, but not much." Varin's claws clicked out once—then sheathed again. A twitch. A reflex.
Sanji glanced sidelong at him, noticing. "You always this jittery?"
Varin didn't answer right away. The storm seemed to answer for him, crashing overhead in a low moan of thunder.
Finally, he muttered, "I don't like being useless. Claws went through him like mist. That's not a fight—that's a trap."
Sanji's eyes softened slightly. "We all got enemies like that. You're just lucky you ran into your first one early."
Luffy nodded, voice weirdly calm. "You'll beat him someday."
Varin snorted. "Not today."
They hit another bend—this one opening up into a wider street, lit by flickering storm lanterns and warped by rippling puddles. A wide sign swung overhead, creaking in the gale. The scent of salt hit stronger now—brine and fish and oil. The sea was close.
Sanji squinted through the gloom. "Port should be just past the fish market."
Varin's gaze snapped upward. "How many ways in?"
"Three main ones. One back lane from the gutters, two streets down through the merchant stalls."
"And how many ways out?"
Sanji shrugged. "One. Docks."
Varin bared his teeth. "Perfect. A choke point."
Luffy scratched his head. "That's bad, right?"
"Only if someone's already there," Sanji said grimly.
Varin didn't stop moving. "Then we better make sure we get there first."
They veered left again—water lashing up from their boots in cold arcs. Somewhere behind them, a shout echoed—then another. Distant. Muffled.
Too far to worry. Too close to forget.
Luffy's grin returned like it never left. "Bet Zoro's already there waiting with a boat."
Varin blinked. "He was dueling that Marine. You think he won already?"
"He better have," Sanji muttered. "Or I'll kill him myself."
Luffy's laugh boomed louder than thunder. "Zoro always finds his way back! Even if he gets lost for a bit."
Varin allowed himself a sharp exhale. Not a laugh—but close.
Their silhouettes curved through the market lane, barrels and broken netting underfoot, the heavy tang of fish guts clinging to the air like a curse. Closer now. The harbor waited just ahead.
And the storm—above, behind, within—showed no sign of passing.
Varin's stride never faltered, but his voice cut through the wind like steel.
"We better hope Nami and Usopp made it to the ship already," he growled, eyes scanning the crossbeams above for silhouettes, snipers, anything moving in the fog. "Because if they're not there now—we're never finding them in this."
Sanji's jaw tightened. "Don't say that."
"I mean it," Varin snapped, pausing only long enough to slide across a slick stretch of cobblestone, catching himself on a stall post before driving forward again. "Visibility's a joke. Smoker's men could be crawling all over the docks by now—and we wouldn't know until it was too late."
Luffy glanced toward the harbor through sheets of slanting rain. "They'll be there. They're smart."
"Smart doesn't beat soaked, surrounded, and running blind," Varin said. "Usopp's a sharpshooter, not a sprinter. And if Nami got spotted hauling supplies—"
Sanji cut him off, voice sharp. "She didn't. Nami's careful."
"I don't deal in careful," Varin barked. "I deal in likely. And right now, it's likely we're going to reach the docks and find nothing but mooring lines and a wall of fog."
Luffy didn't say anything. He just ran harder.
But Varin wasn't done. "If they're not already aboard, we can't circle around searching. Not with a Logia on our heels. One pass through the market, and we'll be boxed in with nowhere to run but the sea."
Sanji cursed low. "Don't remind me."
Varin's claws flexed again, tapping out the rhythm of tension on his palms. "I'm reminding you because if we don't see them on that deck the second we round the pier—we have to make a decision."
Luffy finally turned to him, rain plastering his black hair to his face, straw hat barely clinging to his back now. His eyes were clearer than they had any right to be.
"We're not leaving them behind."
"I'm not saying we do," Varin growled. "I'm saying we don't get caught standing in the open waiting to be turned into smoke-choked corpses."
Sanji glanced ahead—the faint outline of the dock gates just barely beginning to form through the storm mist. Lanterns swayed there like dying fireflies, and the smell of gunpowder and salt was growing stronger.
"If the Merry's not there," Sanji muttered, "we need to split. You two take the far pier—I'll double back for the alleys."
Varin shook his head. "You go alone, you die alone."
Rain slashed sideways through the air as they burst out onto the port's edge. The sea churned with fury—black waves rising and crashing against the stone docks like the world itself was lashing out. The Going Merry was out there, bobbing hard in the open water with her lanterns swaying violently. Nami and Usopp were barely visible on deck, waving desperately through the storm.
But it was too far.
There was no gangplank. No skiff. No path. Just the roiling ocean between them and the ship, now forced to anchor further off to avoid the jagged rocks near port.
Luffy skidded to a halt near the pier's edge, wind ripping at his vest. "The Merry—! They're right there!"
Sanji cursed under his breath, already scanning the water. "Not close enough. Even if we swam, we'd get tossed under."
Varin's claws flexed as his eyes scanned the chaos. "They were smart to push out. Any closer and she'd be cracked in half on the rocks."
A voice cut through the storm like a drawn blade:
"Took you long enough."
They turned sharply—Zoro was standing near the end of the port, soaked to the bone, arms crossed, eyes sharp beneath his drenched bandana. His swords hung heavy at his waist, untouched but ready. He'd been waiting.
Sanji blinked. "You—! You're not on the Merry?"
Zoro looked at him like that was the dumbest thing he'd heard all night. "Wouldn't be much help on the ship if the rest of you drowned getting there."
Luffy grinned wide despite the rain. "Zoro!"
Zoro didn't smile. "We've got a problem." He jerked his chin toward the sea. "They can't come in. And you idiots can't swim that."
Varin stepped forward, voice low. "Then we hold this port until the weather shifts."
Zoro glanced at him. "That's your plan? Just wait while the storm does whatever it wants?"
"It's better than getting crushed in the surf," Sanji snapped.
Zoro's gaze swept the sky, the ships still tied up at the dock, the debris-strewn pier. "Maybe not. There's another way."
Varin's eyes narrowed. "You thinking what I'm thinking?"
Zoro nodded once. "We steal a boat."
"A working one?" Sanji muttered. "In this storm?"
"Doesn't have to be pretty," Zoro said, already walking toward the closest vessel—half-lifted out of the water, ropes slapping like snakes. "Just has to float."
Luffy punched the air. "Heck yeah! Let's steal a boat!"
Varin grabbed his arm before he could bolt. "And if Smoker comes back before we launch?"
Zoro turned just enough to show a sliver of a grin beneath the bandana. "Then I cut him in half before he reforms."
The wind screamed louder. The Going Merry rocked violently out in the surf, and from its deck, Nami's voice barely carried: "You better have a plan!"
Varin looked at the sea, then at the storm, and finally at Zoro—who stood as calm as stone in the chaos. He gave a single, sharp nod.
"Then we move. Pick the fastest hull, strip what we don't need, and pray it floats."
Luffy's eyes lit up like lightning striking the sea. "I've got it!" he yelled, reaching out and grabbing two nearby wooden poles—salt-streaked relics from old docks. "Just stand back!"
Sanji and Zoro exchanged long-suffering glares.
"What's he doing…" Sanji muttered under his breath.
Zoro just shook his head, half amused, half exasperated.
Luffy grinned wildly. Varin watched, cautious but curious, as the rubber man stretched his arms until they looped tightly around the poles, tension shimmering in the rain. It was pure chaos—raw, ridiculous, and breathtaking to behold.
"Let's go to the grand line!" Luffy shouted, voice nearly lost in the storm's roar. With one hand, he scooped Varin into a crouched position, the beastly newcomer gripping Luffy's shoulders for balance. With the other, he yanked himself upright, the poles bending like giant slingshots.
Sanji rolled his eyes but stepped forward to help steady Luffy. "Just once, I want this to go wrong," he grumbled.
Nami and Usopp on the Going Merry watched in stunned silence, rain-smeared faces pressing against the railing.
Zoro, blades still at his side, blinked once. "This is insane," he said flatly—but he lowered himself onto Luffy without another word, trusting the impossible.
Sanji followed, seating himself on Luffy's back, stoic but willing.
Luffy arched himself back, rubber limbs stretching further. He set his feet firmly, muscles coiling for the launch, rain dripping from the rim of his straw hat.
"I hope you guys know what you're in for!" Luffy called up to the Merry as he reached full tension.
"Hold tight!" Varin managed, thumb slipping in the wet.
"Now!" Zoro barked.
Luffy let go.
There was a lightning-snap second of silence—then they flew.
They soared above the churning water, rain pelting their faces like shards of ice, hearts pounding in stormlight.
Sanji let out a whoop halfway through. Zoro's eyes were wide, fists clenched at his sides as he looked around at the blurred horizon. Varin, wild-eyed and terrified, felt the wind tear at his bare chest.
They landed—with a thunderous smack—onto the deck of the Going Merry. Lanterns swung wildly; wave spray came over the rails. Nami and Usopp were there to meet them, arms wrapping around each arriving body in sequence.
Luffy collapsed into laughter, breathless and triumphant. Zoro staggered upright, shaking his head, a smirk breaking through his soaked facade. Sanji exhaled slowly, relief flooding his features.
Varin lay there for a moment, chest heaving, rain dripping off his fur pants, claws clicking against wood. He looked at Luffy—eyes glittering—and realized exactly what he'd stepped into.
A crew built on mad trust, absurd loyalty, and the belief that even in the most impossible moments, they would launch together.
He sat up, brushing off saltwater, and cracked a grin—feral, fierce. "Gods above, you're insane, captain."
Luffy was sprawled on his back in the center of the deck, still laughing, his chest heaving as rain fell around him in silver streaks. His hat had been knocked askew during the launch and now clung to the back of his neck by the string. He pointed at the sky, eyes wide with wild, electric glee. "Hah! That was awesome!"
"Insane doesn't even begin to cover it," Sanji muttered, dragging himself upright and wringing out his sopping jacket. His legs wobbled slightly, boots sloshing on the deck. "I think I saw God during that jump."
Zoro stood up slowly, joints cracking audibly as he twisted his spine and rolled his shoulders. "You always make things harder than they need to be." He stepped over a coil of rope and jabbed a thumb toward Luffy. "We were right there about to steal a boat. A normal boat. And you went and slingshotted us across the ocean like circus rejects."
Usopp stumbled over, eyes wide and mouth agape. "You actually did it?! I saw it from here and thought—'Nah, there's no way, they're gonna miss and hit the rocks and die horribly!' But nope, you flew! Like a flying fish!" He threw his arms up in manic awe. "It was beautiful! Terrifying! But beautiful!"
"I told you," Nami said, pulling her coat tighter around herself and giving Varin a sidelong glance. "This crew doesn't do 'normal.' Not ever."
Varin took a deep breath, still half-kneeling, clawed fingers gripping the edge of the Merry's railing. Rain traced lines down his face, but his expression was one of wonder shaded in disbelief.
He turned his gaze back to Luffy. "You're a madman."
Luffy sat up and grinned wide, cheeks lifting in that infuriating, reckless joy that somehow never came off as arrogance. "Maybe. But it worked, didn't it?"
Varin chuckled—low and rough, more growl than laugh. "I've seen men charge into artillery fire with less confidence."
"We're pirates," Luffy said simply, standing and adjusting his hat. "If we're not doing impossible things, then what's the point?"
Zoro leaned against the mast, arms crossed again, rain still soaking into his bandana. "Remind me to tie you up next time you get that look in your eye."
Sanji lit a cigarette with trembling fingers—shielding the flame against the wind—and took a long drag, exhaling smoke with a groan. "There won't be a next time if you keep letting him try these ideas. One of these days, the laws of physics are going to wise up and kill us."
Nami's eyes swept the horizon. The port was shrinking behind them now, swallowed by fog and the curtain of rain. "Well, we're lucky the wind kept the Marines off our tail. For now. But we're not out of it yet. We need to get clear of the storm's worst edge and find a safe heading."
Luffy turned to her, grin softening into something more grounded. "I trust you to get us there."
"Good," she said, squinting into the dark clouds. "Then hold on. We're not slowing down."
Varin pushed to his feet at last, legs slightly unsteady on the rocking deck. He looked down at the soaked planks beneath his feet—his claws clicking softly with every shift of weight—then up at the faces around him.
These weren't warriors in the traditional sense. They weren't hardened killers or trained operatives. They were chaos incarnate. Unpredictable. Reckless. Laughing in the face of doom with bruises on their knuckles and the storm at their backs.
And somehow, they worked. Together.
He looked to Luffy again. "You really would've left that port behind without a ship, wouldn't you?"
Luffy scratched the back of his head, sheepish. "I mean, I was gonna steal one, but then I thought—why not fly?"
"Why not," Varin echoed, chuckling again.
Sanji kicked at a loose crate sliding across the deck. "Don't encourage him."
But Varin only shook his head, still grinning. "I've run with warpacks, with hunter-killers bred in snow and blood. I've seen squads move like clockwork, polished and perfect. But this?" He gestured to the soaked, grumbling, half-laughing group around him. "This is chaos. Beautiful, stupid chaos."
Usopp leaned in and slapped his back. "Welcome to the crew, buddy!"
Zoro's smirk twitched slightly, but he said nothing. Just nodded once.
Luffy spun on his heel, suddenly bursting with energy again. "Alright! Let's find some sun! Nami, where's the best wind?"
"Still coming in from the east," she said, already pulling charts from a waterproof case lashed near the helm. "If we time it right, we can ride the front edge and come out the other side before the next squall hits."
Luffy nodded with the weight of command. "Then that's where we go. Full sail!"
Sanji grumbled something about wet boots and suicidal idiots, but he moved to the rigging.
Zoro climbed up to the lookout perch, swords clinking faintly with each step, keeping silent watch.
And Varin?
He stepped forward, hands resting on the wet railing, sea spray kissing his face, eyes fixed ahead—into the dark horizon, into the unknown, into whatever came next.
And for the first time in years, he didn't feel alone.
He felt like he belonged.
Even in the storm. Especially in the storm.