Brogy, in his booming, thunderous enthusiasm, had decided almost immediately that the occasion demanded a feast. Not a simple meal, mind you, no, this was to be a feast of honor, "a celebration for the most interesting Styrnvald in known history!" he declared, his voice echoing through the thick jungle like the roll of distant thunder.
Apparently, being a Styrnvald and a pirate was something so absurdly contradictory that it lit a fire in Brogy's ancient warrior heart. He clapped his massive hands together, sending a gust of air through the clearing strong enough to knock Usopp clean off his feet. "A grandson of Skornar the Unbreakable, walking the seas as a pirate! Ababababababa! You're a man of legend already, little one! The gods must've stitched you special!"
"Doubt that," Varin said, smirking lazily as he leaned against the giant's boot, arms crossed. "But I'll take the compliment."
"Ha! Humble and bold! Maybe you aren't like him!" Brogy roared, the ground trembling beneath his laughter. "The world will shake again, I can feel it! You've the same spark in your eyes, the spark of Nika himself!"
That name, Nika, snagged in Varin's mind like a hook on stone. Something about it felt familiar, like the faint echo of a tune he couldn't remember the words to. But the thought faded as quickly as it came, lost beneath Brogy's laughter and the crackle of his fire.
Varin barely had time to think about it before the giant's meaty hand scooped him up by the waist. "Ha! A warrior of the sea, a descendant of the unbreakable, and the first pirate of Styrnvald's line! The stories they'll tell!"
"Wait, Brogy, what're you?"
"Celebrate!"
The giant threw him.
Not hard enough to kill, at least, not by Brogy's standards, but certainly high enough that most sane men would've screamed. The world spun in blue and green blurs, air roaring past his ears, sunlight flashing across his skin.
But Varin didn't panic.
He'd been hurled, slammed, and blasted before, by cannons, beasts, even storms, and this? This was just another kind of wind. His hair flared, his grin widened, and for a moment, suspended high above the island, he could almost feel what freedom must've been to his ancestors, a life unshackled, bound by no chain, no name, no bloodline.
Then gravity remembered him.
He dropped like a stone. Brogy's enormous hand caught him effortlessly, lowering him back onto his shoulder with surprising gentleness. The giant laughed, delighted. "Abababababa! Still breathing, eh? A true warrior's heart, no fear at all! You are your grandfather's kin!"
Varin stretched, rolled his neck, and grinned. "You throw like him, too. Big wind-up, no follow-through."
Brogy blinked once, then burst into fresh laughter, slapping his knee with such force the earth shook.
Next to him, Nami and Usopp were less impressed.
Usopp's legs had given out somewhere around the part where Varin hit his highest point, and now he sat sprawled in the dirt, eyes the size of dinner plates. His voice came out in a squeak. "He, he just, Brogy just threw him! And he didn't scream…..that was brave. I want to be like that.
"He's fine," Nami snapped, though her tone was tight and her fists were trembling at her sides. She glared upward at the two giants, one literal, one figurative, lounging like old friends. "Honestly, if he broke his neck, it'd probably teach him something about breaking branches he shouldn't!"
Varin, from his lofty perch, leaned over and rested an elbow on Brogy's collarbone, looking down at her with a wolfish grin. "You still on about that? One branch, Navigator. One. The tree's fine."
Her eye twitched. "You're lucky I need you alive for Crocodile."
Usopp made a sound halfway between agreement and terror. "She's serious, Varin. That's her murder tone. I've seen enough to know who won't give up."
Brogy, completely oblivious to the human-scale tension, let out another delighted laugh, shaking the trees. "Abababababa! You three are lively ones! It's been an age since I've met warriors with such spirit! Tonight, we eat and drink until the moon grows jealous!"
He began gathering wood and kindling that to him were mere twigs, but to them were entire logs. The clearing filled with the scent of fresh sap and the hum of cicadas. The flames leapt high, painting everything in warm orange and gold.
Varin leaned back against Brogy's shoulder, the heat of the fire licking the air. "Guess that means we're staying for dinner, then," he said, voice low, easy.
Nami crossed her arms, still glaring up at him. "If you think I'm sitting down to dinner. You're insane."
"Relax," Varin said, smirking down at her. "You might even enjoy yourself. Giants know how to roast meat."
She glared harder, but the smell of sizzling boar in Brogy's massive firepit was already doing its work. Her stomach growled, and Usopp's followed suit like a traitorous echo.
"Fine," she grumbled.
A few minutes later, the fire crackled louder, Brogy hummed some ancient Elbaf tune that rolled like distant thunder, and for the first time since Alabasta had even come up, the night felt almost peaceful.
Usopp nibbled on a strip of meat, muttering something about giants and being brave, while Nami watched the flames reflect off Varin's fangs from across the fire. She didn't smile, but her expression softened just enough to pass for a truce.
Brogy's voice rose again, loud and booming: "A feast for warriors! For friends of Elbaf!"
The jungle echoed with laughter and firelight, the stars above glittering like cold sparks on black glass. Amid the warmth and the roar of the bonfire, Varin stretched, a long exhale slipping through his teeth as the night settled deep into his bones.
"So, Varin…" Usopp began, leaning forward just enough for the firelight to dance across his wide, uncertain grin. "Since it's kinda out in the open now, your last name's Styrnvald, right?" His voice carried a strange mix of awe and forced nonchalance, like he was trying to sound casual but couldn't quite hide the weight behind the name.
That caught Varin's attention. He tore the last hunk of meat from his skewer and chewed in silence for a moment, the crackle of the fire filling the pause. "Yeah?" he finally said, swallowing and tossing the bone into the flames. "Name mean something to you?"
He tried to play it off, voice level, eyes half-lidded. But even through the smoke and shadows, it was clear the question hit harder than he wanted it to. Usopp didn't buy the calm act, and judging by the flicker in Nami's glare and the way Brogy was still grinning like a man remembering legends, neither did anyone else.
Usopp's brow furrowed, the firelight flickering across his nervous face. "Mean something to me? Uh, yeah, kinda! I've heard that name before. Not like, y'know, heard-heard it, but… It's one of those names that's just in stories, man. Like, when my old man told me about the Grand Line and all those ancient families and sea monsters, he mentioned the Styrnvalds. Said they were, uh… what was the word? Monsters with manners. Yeah. That."
Varin raised an eyebrow mid-bite, his jaw still moving slowly as if buying time to respond. The night crackled with the soft hiss of fire on fat, the smell of roasting meat still heavy in the humid air.
"Monsters with manners," he repeated, a faint grin tugging at his mouth. "That's… creative. Sounds like something a storyteller would come up with to make kids sleep worse."
But Usopp wasn't laughing. His tone softened, uncertain but serious. "Nah, it's more than just a story. The way he told it, the Styrnvalds were like… living weapons. Giants among men, but not giants like Brogy here, more like warriors who fought them and lived to brag about it. Kings and pirates and marines all wanted their favor or feared their wrath. Supposedly, they vanished centuries ago, like ghosts that didn't need graves."
Varin took another slow bite of meat, unbothered on the surface, but his gaze shifted, just barely, toward the fire. The light painted his eyes in amber and red, burning faintly like coals. "Ghosts that didn't need graves, huh? Cute line. Guess it stuck for a reason."
Nami, sitting across from them, had been pretending not to listen, but her eyes hadn't left him since the name came up. She leaned forward slightly, one hand on her knee. "So… it's true, then?" she asked, voice low but edged with curiosity. "You are one of them. One of those… whatever they are."
Varin exhaled slowly through his nose, brushing the ash from the stick before tossing it into the fire. The flames ate it with a hiss. "Used to be," he said at last, voice flat but heavy with a kind of old, cold finality. "Whatever you've heard, whatever your old man told you, Usopp, most of it's probably true in the worst ways and false in the rest. But me? I'm not one of them anymore."
Brogy, who had been quietly gnawing on the rib bone of something large enough to be mistaken for a mast, paused mid-chew. His massive blue eyes turned toward Varin, thoughtful and a little sad. "A name like that carries the weight of mountains," the giant rumbled. "Can't outrun the blood in your veins, little one."
"Maybe," Varin said, gaze still fixed on the flames. "But you can choose what it does to you."
For a long moment, nobody spoke. The only sounds were the fire and the occasional rumble of Brogy's quiet humming, something deep and mournful beneath his usual laughter.
Then, Usopp, in his usual way, broke the silence with a nervous laugh. "So… just to make sure I'm hearing this right, you're from a family of legendary, possibly mythic warriors that the world forgot, and you just… left?"
"Got kicked out," Varin corrected without hesitation.
Usopp blinked. "Oh. Okay. Totally normal." He looked at Nami for backup. "Right? That's normal?"
Nami pinched the bridge of her nose. "For him? Probably."
Brogy let out another booming laugh that nearly knocked Usopp over. "Abababababa! Little warriors with big pasts! You all carry storms in your hearts, don't you?"
Varin's grin returned, just faintly, crooked and sharp as a knife. "Guess it's contagious."
He leaned back on the log, letting the warmth of the fire brush his skin, the night thick with smoke, laughter, and secrets that weren't quite buried. Somewhere out there, the sea murmured against the island's edge, a reminder that their peace, like everything else, wouldn't last.
But for now, surrounded by firelight and foolish mortals, by giants and ghosts, Varin let himself breathe.
Just for tonight.
"Hey, witch," Varin said, breaking the quiet hum of the jungle. His voice was softer than usual, less a jab, more a truce disguised in mockery. The firelight painted one side of his face in gold and the other in shadow, giving his grin a half-wild, half-weary edge.
"Think we can call this nonexistent feud even," he continued, tipping his head toward Nami, "if I tell you a bit about my homeland?"
Nami looked up from her seat across the fire, arms folded, eyes narrowed in that calculating way of hers. The crackle of the flames filled the space between them, sparks spiraling into the dark canopy. For a long moment, she said nothing.
Then, with a faint sigh and a flick of her wrist, she gestured for him to go on. "Fine," she muttered. "But if this turns into some macho 'warrior tale,' I'm charging you for every minute of my time."
Varin smirked, leaning back against a fallen log as the faint scent of roasted meat and damp jungle air hung thick around the fire. "I'll take it," he said, the corner of his mouth twitching upward, "but I refuse to end up like Zoro and owe you for the rest of my life." His eyes glinted faintly with amusement, though there was a tiredness behind them that didn't go unnoticed. "Still, I think you'll find this one interesting."
The jungle seemed to quiet with him. The chatter of the night faded, replaced by the soft hiss and pop of the fire. Even Brogy, who had been roaring with laughter moments before, seemed to sense the shift, his rumbling voice stilled, a curious look in his enormous eyes as he leaned in slightly, resting his chin on one hand the size of a boulder.
"You listening, Usopp?" Varin asked, turning toward the long-nosed man. His tone was lighter now, almost teasing, but his gaze was sharp. "I think you'll like this one. Brogy probably knows it already, but… I doubt he'll mind hearing it again."
Usopp straightened immediately, eyes wide and shining in the flickering light. "A story from your island?!" he said, voice full of both awe and nerves. "Wait, you mean you're actually gonna tell us something about yourself?"
Varin chuckled, poking the fire with a stick, sending a plume of sparks spiraling upward. "Something like that," he said quietly. "Not exactly Elbaf, but close enough. My home's colder… quieter. And a lot less forgiving."
Nami leaned her chin on her palm, watching him carefully, though she pretended not to care. Brogy's grin returned, smaller this time but proud, knowing. And Usopp leaned closer, eager and half-afraid of what was coming next.
"I'll start by saying, my home and Elbaf are similar," Varin began, his voice carrying low through the warm jungle air. The fire crackled between them, throwing gold light over his face, and the jungle beyond seemed to lean closer, the night holding its breath. "In a lot of ways, our cultures are built from the same bones; strength means life. Weakness gets you buried. Our faiths are close too, though we name our gods different things. But Elbaf, they've got their giants and their war spirits. Us, we've got something else entirely."
His gaze drifted past the flames, eyes unfocused, caught somewhere far away in memory. "This story isn't about my clan, or the wars we fought, or the blood that soaked our snow. It's about the heart of the island itself, the most sacred place we have. The tree we call Yggdrasill."
The name hung heavy in the air. Even Brogy's great grin dimmed into a knowing solemnity, his huge eyes glinting with the weight of recognition. "Yggdrasill…" he rumbled softly, like thunder whispering over distant mountains.
Varin nodded, poking absently at the fire. "Aye. The World Tree. They say its roots reach through every sea, every island, every heart. That it connects all things living and dead, the beasts, the men, the giants, the gods. The elders say when a child is born, their first breath is the wind through its branches. And when they die, their last breath falls back into its roots."
Usopp swallowed hard, eyes wide. "You mean… it's real? Not just a story?"
A faint smile touched Varin's lips, humorless but warm. "To my people, it's as real as the blood in our veins. We grow up hearing that every storm, every winter, every dawn comes from the Tree's moods. When she's calm, the seas are smooth. When she's angry…" He gestured toward the fire. "The sky burns."
For a long moment, no one spoke. The forest whispered beyond the circle of light, and the flames popped and sighed. Then Varin added, softer, almost to himself, "It's said that when Yggdrasill dies, when her last leaf falls, the world will die with her. And when she's reborn, so will everything else."
The words hung in the air like smoke, curling around them in the hush that followed. Brogy's great hand came down in a gentle clap on Varin's shoulder, the impact deep enough to rattle his ribs, yet strangely comforting.
"Ababababa," the giant rumbled, a smile breaking through the gravity. "The blood of the Styrnvald carries the old stories well. You do your kin proud, little one."
Varin smirked faintly, brushing soot from his coat. "Trust me, I don't do them proud. I just like reminding people that even the strongest trees can fall."
The fire cracked, throwing shadows across his face, and for a moment, even Brogy seemed uncertain whether that was a warning or a memory.
"You may not know this," Varin began, poking at the fire with a stick, the orange glow painting sharp shadows across his face, "considering how rare they are in the Blues, but Devil Fruits come from trees. Actual trees."
Usopp tilted his head, confused. "Wait, like… You mean they grow on trees? You're kidding."
Varin gave him a sideways glance, his mouth quirking. "I don't kid about things that bite back, long-nose. The Tree I'm talking about, Yggdrasill, she's where I got mine. Every Styrnvald gets one. It's tradition. Or maybe a curse. Depends who you ask."
That caught Nami's attention, her eyes narrowing. "You're saying everyone from your family has a Devil Fruit? Every single one of you?"
"Yep," Varin said, leaning back with his arms crossed behind his head, his gaze flicking up toward the canopy as the fire cracked and popped. "My homeland's said to be impossible to siege because of it. Last I remember, maybe a hundred of us. Doesn't sound like much, but every single one, " he paused, tapping a finger against his temple, "has a Devil Fruit. Each different. Each trained from the day they can hold a blade."
Usopp's eyes went wide, his jaw nearly unhinging. "A hundred Devil Fruits? That's… that's not even possible! How could one place have that many?"
Varin chuckled, the sound low and rough. "Because of the Tree. Yggdrasill. Our version of it, anyway. She's the heart of the island, roots so deep they twist around the world's bones. Every fruit that grows from her is tied to something sacred in our faith. Some say the fruits are the gifts of the Old Ones, spirits of creation and destruction. Each one a fragment of their power, given shape."
He turned the spit of roasted meat slowly, letting the flames dance in his eyes. "Every branch gives birth to a different fruit, each one a reflection of the force that watches over it. One might carry the breath of storms, another the calm of still water, another the fury of flame. The ones who eat them aren't just wielding power; they're carrying part of the Tree's will. That's how we see it."
Nami raised an eyebrow, skepticism mixing with reluctant curiosity. "So what, your people just… pray to a tree that hands out superpowers?"
Varin smirked, but not cruelly. "Pray? Maybe once. These days, we honor it. Yggdrasill doesn't grant miracles for kneeling. It gives purpose, and in return, demands you live up to it. Fail that, and the shame's worse than death. You don't steal a fruit; you don't cheat your way into strength. You earn it. That's our law."
Brogy's booming laugh shook the clearing. "Ababababa! Spoken like a true son of the storm! The Styrnvald faith is one even the giants admire. Their Tree connects to the gods themselves!"
Varin nodded toward him. "Aye. The fruits, the bloodlines, the faith, it's all woven together. Each fruit's a promise, a symbol of the bond between the people and the world that bore them. The Tree gives life, not curses. People just misunderstand that part."
Usopp swallowed hard. "So your clan, everyone, has a Devil Fruit power?"
"Every last one," Varin said, pride tinged with melancholy. "Each different. Each dangerous. Our island's a fortress not because of walls or weapons, but because no one sane would try to fight a hundred warriors, all chosen by Yggdrasill herself. The fruits are her language, her will made real."
The fire crackled louder for a moment as Varin's voice fell quiet. He stared into the embers, his tone softening.
"When you stand beneath her branches, it feels like she's watching. Like she remembers every battle, every oath, every drop of blood spilled in her name. You feel small, but not in a bad way. More like… You understand your place in something bigger. Stronger."
He smiled faintly, a rare flicker of warmth crossing his sharp features. "That's the heart of it. We fight, we bleed, we die, but we do it with purpose. Because the Tree lives in all of us. And when we fall, the roots take us home."
Varin looked up toward the stars, the faintest smile crossing his face. The air was cool now, the fire snapping lazily at the logs. The others, wherever they had wandered off to, were probably wondering where the three of them had gone. But the island was only so big, and besides, he was with Nami, Usopp, and Brogy. There was no real danger, not here.
"Whenever a fruit grows," Varin said, his voice carrying that slow, distant weight of memory, "and falls, we take it and put it inside a hollow part of Yggdrasill."
He paused, his gaze distant, the firelight flickering across his face. A small, almost nostalgic smile tugged at his mouth. "The cave glows, the roots themselves light it up. The fruits, too. Rows upon rows of Devil Fruits, each one humming with life. When we're deemed worthy, we go inside. They seal the entrance behind us, and we wait for the one that calls to us. It's not something you can see or hear, it's just… something you feel."
Nami listened silently, her usual sharp look softened. Usopp had his food halfway to his mouth and forgot to eat it, and even Brogy, massive and unmoving, sat with quiet reverence.
"When it calls to us, we eat it there, right in the dark," Varin continued. "We don't pick, it picks us. And every fruit that grows from Yggdrasill is tied to one of our gods, one of the spirits we revere. Each fruit a piece of the stories we were raised on. Some bring strength, others wisdom, others ruin. But they're all sacred. The way we see it, to take a fruit is to carry part of that god's will with you."
He glanced toward them again, the faintest humor in his tone breaking through. "When you eat it, though… It's hell. They taste like death, like ash and rot. Mine was the worst: wet dog, smoke, and blood. Thought I'd vomit it right back up."
Usopp gagged a little at the description, earning a sharp elbow from Nami.
Varin's grin returned, faint but real. "As Nami and Usopp know, the fruit that chose me was the Inu Inu no Mi, Model: Fenrir. The Devourer. My people believe Fenrir isn't a god or demon, he's the end of all things. Chaos that devours even gods. Fitting, I suppose."
The feast stretched on beneath the starlit canopy, laughter rolling like thunder through the jungle. Brogy's booming cheer mixed with Usopp's nervous chuckles and Nami's reluctant, quiet amusement. The giant had produced barrels of mead from some long-forgotten stash, each one bigger than a small boat.
Varin, never one to turn down a challenge, drank alongside him. For every barrel Brogy emptied, Varin drained another, and by the end, the ground around their fire was littered with cracked wooden lids and the sweet, heavy scent of honeyed alcohol. It wasn't clear who won. Brogy declared it a tie, claiming they'd simply "drained the world dry before the victor could rise." Varin didn't argue. His head was light, his limbs heavy, and his laughter, genuine and unguarded, came easier than it had in years.
When the last of the firewood burned low and the mead was gone, they sprawled across the grass in the glow of dying embers. Usopp snored softly near the empty pot. Nami leaned against a rock, arms folded, her eyes half-lidded but calm. Brogy sat cross-legged, humming a tune so old it had no words left.
Varin watched the flames, their flicker reflected in his eyes. For the first time since he'd left home, the silence didn't ache. The warmth of the fire, the steady rhythm of breathing around him, it was enough.
"Maybe," he murmured under his breath, half to himself, "sharin' ain't so bad after all."
The fire crackled once more, sending a single spark spiraling toward the stars, and the jungle settled into sleep.