Zorro's fight with Hatchan became a whirlwind of clashing steel, six swords against three. Sanji stood poised before Kuroobi, the air crackling with tension as the fishman martial artist began a series of deep knee bends, his pride on the line.
"Come on, come on!" Usopp grunted, heaving on Luffy's arm while Mario dug at the packed earth around their captain's legs. The ground was stubborn, reinforced by the impact of Luffy's own attack.
THWIP!
A searing pain exploded in Mario's shoulder. It wasn't the blunt force of a punch; it was a sharp, penetrating agony. For a split second, he thought he'd been shot. He spun around to see Chew, the sharpshooter, puffing his cheeks with a malicious grin. It was a water bullet, fired with enough force to pierce flesh.
Before Mario could react, another one hit him square in the chest, knocking the wind from his lungs and throwing him onto his back. The pain was breathtaking.
"No, no, no," Chew taunted, waddling closer. "Your captain needs to suffer for what he has done to our park! You can wait your turn!"
"Leave him alone!" Usopp screamed, his voice cracking with fear. He fumbled with his slingshot, hands shaking so badly he could barely load it. "FLAME STAR!" A blazing pellet shot through the air, not with sniping precision, but with desperate intent. It struck Chew in the chest, the sudden explosion and fire making the fishman stumble back with a yelp of surprise.
Usopp stood there, his legs trembling like leaves in a storm. "Y-your opponent is me!" he declared, the words brave but his body screaming otherwise.
Chew brushed the soot from his chest, his face contorted in fury. "Fine! If you want to die that badly, I'll start with you, you long-nosed freak!" He launched a volley of water bullets. Usopp's courage vanished in an instant, replaced by a high-pitched scream as he turned and fled, leading Chew on a chase through the ruined park.
This was the opening Arlong needed. With his officers occupied, the shark-man rose to his full, intimidating height and stalked toward his trapped prize.
"Gomu Gomu no Pistol!" Luffy yelled, his rubber arm snapping forward. But blinded by ink and stuck fast, his aim was wild. The punch sailed harmlessly past Arlong's head.
"Do you really think you can defeat us?" Arlong sneered, his shadow falling over Luffy.
Mario, gritting against the pain in his shoulder and chest, pushed himself to his feet and staggered into Arlong's path.
"You again?" Arlong's voice was a low growl. "I see you did not die… Time to change that." He simply swung a backhanded fist, heavy as an anchor.
Mario ducked under it, the wind of the blow ruffling his hair. He saw an opening and drove his own fist into Arlong's ribs with a solid thud. The impact sent a jolt up Mario's arm. Arlong didn't even flinch. He just looked down, a bored expression on his face, and shrugged it off as if swatting a fly.
With terrifying speed, Arlong's hand shot out and grabbed Mario by the wrist. The grip was like iron, crushing. "Foolish human," he muttered, and with a contemptuous flick of his arm, he hurled Mario across the courtyard.
The world became a dizzying blur before Mario slammed back-first into a remnant of the perimeter wall. The impact was immense, knocking the air from his lungs and sending cracks spiderwebbing through the stone. He slumped to the ground, vision swimming.
Through the ringing in his ears, he heard Luffy's enraged scream: "MARIO!"
He looked up, his body screaming in protest. Arlong was standing over a puddle, his hand cupped. Water gathered in his palm, shimmering. It wasn't a casual handful; it coalesced, becoming dense, pressurized. With a final, hateful glare, Arlong flung his hand forward. The water shot towards Mario not as a splash, but as a solid, deadly projectile—a super-powered version of Chew's bullets, meant to kill.
Time seemed to slow. There was no dodging. Instinct, born of desperate training, took over.
"Shit…! Tekkai!" Mario grunted, forcing his muscles to tense, his body to harden. But it was a flawed, panicked attempt. He lacked the mental fortitude to fully ignore the pain, to achieve the absolute stillness required. His body was rigid, but not like steel. More like hard wood.
The pressurized water hit him like a shotgun blast.
The droplets weren't gentle; they were a hundred tiny, hammering impacts across his torso and arms. The pain was beyond anything he'd ever felt—a sharp, brutal violation that short-circuited his nervous system. His makeshift Tekkai shattered instantly. A choked cry was torn from his throat as his head snapped back against the broken wall.
His vision flickered, the bright sunlit world narrowing to a dark, shrinking tunnel. The last thing he heard was the distant, furious roar of his captain before the darkness swallowed him whole.
***
Mario came to his senses. A sharp, throbbing ache radiated from every part of his body. How long was he out? Seconds? Minutes? Time had become a blur of pain. He lifted his head, the world swimming back into focus, and the scene that met his eyes sent a jolt of pure ice through his veins.
Arlong, standing triumphant, held a bloodied Zorro up with one arm. The swordsman was limp, his bandages soaked crimson, his two swords scattered on the ground around him like fallen comrades. And… wait… Kiribatchi? Arlong had drawn the cursed sword himself, its wicked curve glinting with malevolent intent.
That's not supposed to happen. The thought was a desperate, silent scream. This was wrong. This was a deviation from the story he knew, and the consequence was horrifyingly real.
„You…." Arlong snarled, shaking Zorro like a ragdoll. „You were this hurt and still wanted to fight me? Such stupid pride. Well, let me end your pain here and now!"
He raised the Kiribatchi high, poised for a final, decapitating strike.
NO!
The denial roared in Mario's mind, drowning out the pain. This is not supposed to happen! Zoro will die! This wasn't a story anymore. This was his friend, his crewmate.
I must do something. I MUST DO SOMETHING!
His body screamed in protest, a chorus of agony from broken ribs and bruised muscles. Every instinct told him to stay down, to conserve what little strength he had left. But a stronger force, a conviction that burned brighter than fear, took over. Must save Zorro.
He pushed himself up, his legs buckling, his vision spotting. He focused every ounce of his will, every memory of his training, every shred of hope and desperation.
„SORU… TEKKAI!"
The words were a guttural roar. The acceleration was instant, a brutal, tearing sensation as his abused muscles were forced into a technique they weren't ready for. It wasn't the flawless speed of a CP9 agent; it was a painful, jarring lurch, like a rocket misfiring. He was a projectile of flesh and bone, terrified but utterly resolved. He could not let his beloved character die… no. His crewmate.
Just as Arlong began the downward swing of the sword, a dark shape slammed into him with the force of a cannonball.
It was Mario, a full-body tackle empowered by a desperate, imperfect Tekkai. There was no finesse, only raw, kinetic impact. The sound was a sickening crunch of cartilage and a surprised grunt torn from Arlong's throat.
The shark-man was lifted clean off his feet, his grip on Zorro loosening. He was flung backwards like a discarded toy, crashing through the already ruined perimeter wall in an explosion of dust and debris, spitting a mouthful of blood into the air as he vanished from sight.
Zorro dropped to the ground in a heap.
Mario landed hard, skidding to a stop on his knees. The Tekkai released, and the full, excruciating pain returned, multiplied tenfold by the reckless effort. He gasped for air, his body trembling uncontrollably.
But his eyes were fixed on Zorro. He was down, he was badly hurt, but he was alive. A low, pained grunt came from the ground beside him.
„Took you long enough…" Zorro managed, his voice a ragged whisper. He was trying to push himself up, his face a mask of agony, but he still fixed Mario with a defiant, almost approving glare. „Had a good sleep?"
„Shut up!" Mario rasped, the words scraping his raw throat. He didn't have the breath for a proper retort. „JOHNNY! YOSAKU! TAKE HIM!"
As if waiting for the signal, the two bounty hunter assistants burst from the crowd of stunned villagers, tears streaming down their faces as they sprinted to their hero's side.
„Uuuuhuuuu! Brother Zorro!" Johnny wailed, skidding to his knees.
„Easy now, easy!" Yosaku said, his voice trembling as he and Johnny carefully slid their hands under Zorro's shoulders, beginning the slow, difficult process of moving him to safety.
From the cloud of dust where the wall had been, a shadow stirred. The rubble shifted and Arlong emerged, slowly, deliberately. He wiped a trickle of blood from his mouth with the back of his hand, his eyes burning with pure, unadulterated hatred. The sight of his own blood seemed to have erased any last vestige of amusement.
„And I was just about to show Nami she can't rely on anyone…" he snarled, his gaze locking not on Mario, but past him. „…and there you are. Annoying as ever."
Mario followed his gaze. There, at the front of the villagers, stood Nami. Her face was pale, her knuckles white as she gripped her staff. The fear in her eyes was being slowly replaced by a desperate, rising hope. Tears streamed down her cheeks, but she wasn't backing away.
„Nami, don't come any closer!" Mario pleaded, the effort of shouting sending a fresh wave of pain through his chest. His voice was weak, but the warning was clear.
Arlong took a step forward, then another, his immense frame casting a long shadow over Mario. The air grew heavy with his murderous intent. „And what," Arlong said, his voice dropping to a deadly, mocking whisper, „are you going to do now? Will you also try to defeat me? You can barely stand."
Mario forced himself to his full height, his body screaming in protest. He met Arlong's gaze, and a small, defiant smirk touched his lips. It wasn't a smirk of victory, but of imminent deliverance.
„No…" Mario said, his voice gaining a sliver of strength. He raised a trembling hand and pointed to the sky above Arlong's head. „But he will."
Arlong's brow furrowed in confusion for a split second.
That was all the time it took.
„I… AM… FREEEEEEEE!!!!"
The roar split the sky, a declaration of pure, unbridled joy and power. Arlong's head snapped up, his eyes widening in shock.
And there he was—his captain, Monkey D. Luffy. The ink was wiped away, his fists were clenched, and his smile was gone, replaced by a look of utter, focused fury. The fight for Nami's freedom was finally, truly, about to begin.