The villagers from the outskirts of Cocoyasi were gathered in front of Arlong Park, faces burning with rage and grief. They had come with makeshift weapons and heavy hearts, desperate to take back their home. But standing at the iron gates—bloodied, bruised, and barely upright—were Johnny and Yosaku. Their bodies swayed with exhaustion, but their eyes burned with purpose.
They held their arms out, barring the way.
"Don't go in," Johnny rasped, spitting blood onto the dust.
"We tried…" Yosaku added, his voice barely more than a whisper. "We all tried to fight them. The Arlong Pirates… they're monsters."
Josaku leaned against the gate, one hand pressed to a deep gash on his side. "We lost… by a hair's breadth. Just barely escaped with our lives."
The villagers hesitated, their fury tempered by the sight of the battered duo.
"You have no chance," Johnny said, eyes scanning the crowd, pleading. "That's why we're waiting."
Then—footsteps. Heavy. Determined. Like the sound of fate approaching.
Luffy, Zoro, Usopp, Sanji, and Marrio strode down the dirt path, the sun blazing behind them like a halo of fire. Each step kicked up clouds of dust, and the air seemed to shift with their presence.
Luffy's cast a long shadow over the road. He didn't say a word, but the tension in his jaw said enough.
Zoro cracked his neck, his swords already drawn. "Guess it's our turn now."
Usopp, gripping his slingshot with white knuckles, swallowed hard. "I'm scared, but… I'm not running. Not this time."
Sanji lit a cigarette with a shaky hand, exhaling slowly. "No fish freak's gonna get away with what he did. Not while we're here."
Marrio adjusted his gloves, eyes sharp. "Let's end this."
The villagers watched in stunned silence as the five walked past the broken gatekeepers. Johnny and Yosaku straightened as much as they could, pride flickering in their exhausted eyes.
"This time," Josaku whispered, almost reverently, "they won't lose."
And with that, the Straw Hats stepped through the gates of Arlong Park—toward the monsters, toward vengeance, and toward history.
The air was thick with salt and tension. The sound of crashing waves echoed in the distance as a heavy silence settled across the courtyard.
Luffy stepped forward without hesitation, eyes locked on the looming structure ahead.
"Move," he said flatly.
The villagers, Johnny, Yosaku, and even his own crew instinctively parted to let him through. His presence didn't just demand space—it commanded it.
He approached the massive stone doors of Arlong's inner sanctum and raised his fist.
Boom.
One punch. The stone trembled.
Boom.
Two punches. Cracks spread like lightning across the surface.
BOOM.
On the third strike, the doors exploded inward like they were made of nothing more than styrofoam. Dust and debris clouded the entrance.
Inside, the Arlong Pirates turned toward the noise, momentarily stunned.
Standing at the far end of the room, seated arrogantly on his throne of coral and bone, was Arlong himself. His jagged nose twitched as he stared at the silhouette in the dust.
Then he rose.
His eyes burned with disbelief and fury.
„Who is Arlong?"
"This brat? You made all that noise?" he snarled. "I'm Arlong. Who the hell are you supposed to be?"
Luffy stepped into the room, light falling across his eyes as he tilted his head up.
"I'm Luffy."
Arlong scoffed. "Luffy?"
Luffy nodded. "A pirate."
The words hit the air like a hammer. Not a boast. Not a challenge. A statement of fact.
Two hulking fishmen flanked Luffy's path. Towering, muscle-bound, sharp-toothed—and grinning.
"Hey, where do you think you're going, little guy?" one taunted.
"You lost, shrimp?" said the other.
Luffy didn't even break stride. "Move."
They laughed.
Bad idea.
Before either could react, Luffy grabbed them by the collars and slammed their heads together with a thunderous CRACK.
They dropped instantly—two unconscious bodies thudding to the floor like sacks of stone.
Gasps echoed through the hall.
Sanji whistled. "Didn't even stretch."
Zoro grinned. "This is gonna be fun."
Usopp gulped, but a small, shaky smile crept across his face. "He's serious this time."
Mario adjusted his stance, ready.
Luffy looked up—straight at Arlong.
No words. No hesitation.
He stomped forward, fists clenched, shoulders tight with fury, and in one explosive motion—
CRACK!
His fist connected clean with Arlong's jaw. The force was so immense, so sudden, that the towering fishman didn't even get a chance to brace. His head snapped sideways, teeth flying from his mouth, and his massive body went sailing across the courtyard.
He crashed into the far wall with a thunderous BOOM, stone shattering around him as dust and rubble filled the air.
"Don't you dare make my navigator cry!" Luffy roared, his voice raw and shaking with anger. His eyes burned, veins bulging on his forehead, his chest rising and falling with each breath like a wild beast holding back.
Silence.
Everyone stared in shock.
Even the Arlong Pirates froze.
And somewhere near the back—Mario was standing there, fists trembling at his sides, his heart pounding in his chest.
He couldn't take his eyes off Luffy.
This… This right here—this exact moment—this was why he loved One Piece.
Why he'd cried, laughed, and shouted at his screen for hours.
Because of him. Because of Luffy.
The idiot in a straw hat who laughed too loud and got lost every five minutes… now stood like a storm made flesh. Unmovable. Unforgiving. Terrifying in the name of love and loyalty.
"God," Mario whispered under his breath, voice shaking with emotion. "That's why I love this guy. He's a complete goofball… but mess with his crew, and he turns into a demon."
He wasn't the strongest man in the world. He wasn't a genius. He wasn't perfect.
But when it mattered—when someone he cared about was hurting—Luffy burned with a kind of fury that made even giants tremble.
That was what made him a captain.
That was what made him Luffy.
The dust began to clear, revealing Arlong slowly rising from the rubble, wiping the blood from his split lip, growling low in his throat. His shark-like eyes locked onto Luffy with murder behind them.
But Luffy didn't even flinch.
He stepped forward again, casting a long shadow under the sun. Behind him, Zoro, Sanji, Usopp, and Mario followed—each ready, each burning with the same resolve.
This wasn't just about a fight anymore.
This was about Nami.
This was about freedom.
This was about everything Arlong had stolen—every tear, every scar, every ounce of fear he had forced onto this village and onto their friend.
No more.
Luffy raised his hand again, pointing straight at Arlong. You're finished."
The words rang out like a death sentence.
"ARE YOU INSANE, HUMAN?!" Arlong bellowed, his voice echoing across Arlong Park like a tidal wave crashing against stone.
Without hesitation, a dozen fishmen launched themselves at Luffy—teeth bared, weapons drawn, snarling with bloodlust.
But they never even got close.
In the space of a breath, the battlefield came alive.
CLANG—SHING—CRACK!
Zoro surged forward, his blades dancing like silver lightning. One slash—three enemies down. Another pivot—two more dropped, clutching their chests and groaning in pain. His movements were effortless, surgical.
WHAM—THUD!
Sanji spun through the air like a cyclone, his kicks sharp and elegant, each one finding its mark. A roundhouse to the temple, a heel drop to the collarbone—his opponents collapsed like broken puppets.
And then—Mario.
He wasn't as fast as Sanji. He didn't have swords like Zoro. But something had clicked inside him.
As the enemy rushed in, Mario moved—instinctively. No panic. No hesitation.
He ducked under a swinging axe, stepped to the side, and drove a fist into a fishman's ribs. The blow landed perfectly, just like in the diagrams from the training manual. The enemy wheezed, crumpling to the ground.
Wait… that worked?
Another came at him with a spear. Mario sidestepped, grabbed the shaft, and yanked the attacker forward—then turned and delivered a clean elbow strike to the back of the neck. The fishman dropped without a sound.
It's… easy? He thought was a spark in the calm that had settled over his mind. The chaotic roar of the battle faded into a muffled hum. He wasn't thinking about steps anymore; his body was simply reading the language of violence spoken by his opponents—the shift of weight, the telegraphing of an attack, the opening in a guard. It was a language he suddenly realized he understood.
A hulking fishman, twice his size, charged, a spiked club raised high. Mario didn't retreat. He stepped inside the arc of the swing, so close he could smell the brine on the creature's skin. His left hand deflected the massive arm, his right palm struck upwards, a sharp, compact blow to the chin. There was a crack of teeth, and the giant's eyes rolled back as he toppled.
From the periphery, a flicker of movement. Zoro had just cleaved through three opponents in a single motion, but one of his three swords, Wado Ichimonji, angled slightly, its polished surface reflecting the scene behind him for a split second. He saw Mario's takedown. A grunt, almost inaudible, escaped Zoro's lips. It wasn't praise, not yet. But it was an acknowledgment. The moss-headed swordsman had seen something other than a liability.
Sanji, landing from a soaring aerial kick, also noticed. "Huh," he muttered, blowing out a stream of smoke. "He can throw a punch after all. Don't get cocky boy." The insult lacked its usual bite, edged with a sliver of surprise.
Mario didn't hear them. He was in the flow. A spear thrust? Redirect. A wild swing? Evade and counter. He was a stone in a raging river, the attacks parting and breaking around him. He wasn't just defending anymore; he was controlling the space, creating openings where none seemed to exist.
He saw an opening—a fishman off-balance after a missed lunge at Sanji's back. Without a second thought, Mario darted forward. He wasn't a blur like the cook, but his movement was direct and efficient. He grabbed the fishman's wrist, twisted, and used the creature's own momentum to send him crashing into two of his comrades.
Sanji glanced over his shoulder, one eyebrow raised. "I don't need a babysitter." But the corner of his mouth twitched upwards. "Nice form, though. Almost elegant."
The compliment, backhanded as it was, snapped Mario back to reality. The calm didn't break, but it deepened, solidified into confidence. He wasn't just surviving. He was fighting. He met Sanji's glance and gave a single, sharp nod.
It was, „I can do this."