Mario looked at Nami and smiled. It wasn't the weary, pained smile from before, but a new one, filled with a profound sense of purpose. He was no longer just a visitor in their world; he was a guardian of it. His resolve solidified as he met her gaze—he was determined to protect not just her, but all of them, from the tragedies he knew lurked in the future.
Nami, feeling the intensity of his stare, tilted her head. The fear had been completely burned away, leaving behind a core of polished steel. "What is it?" she asked, her voice steady.
Mario's smile softened. He truly looked at her, perhaps for the first time. Not as a two-dimensional drawing, but as a person. The light brown of her eyes wasn't just a color; it was a swirling mix of resilience, intelligence, and a hope so new it was still fragile. It was mesmerizing. This was the real Nami, unchained.
"Nothing," he said, his voice quiet but clear. "Just thought you looked beautiful."
A faint, surprised blush crept onto Nami's cheeks. It was a simple, honest compliment, devoid of Sanji's theatrical flair, and it caught her off guard. She offered a small, grateful smile in return.
BONK!
A sharp pain erupted from the top of Mario's head, causing him to wince and clutch his skull.
"Who told you that you can hit on my love like that, you marimo-adjacent troublemaker?!" Sanji snarled, appearing from behind in a whirl of angry smoke. His suit was torn and dirty from his fight with Kuroobi, but his protective fury was fully intact.
Mario rubbed his head, chuckling despite the throbbing. "Ha ha ha. Relax, it was just a compliment. Doesn't she look better now that there's no more pretending? Now that we're here, about to save her village?"
Sanji's eye twitched, but he glanced at Nami. The genuine light in her eyes was undeniable. He straightened his tie with a huff, the anger melting into his usual lovesick devotion. "Nonsense! Nami-swan was always a radiant goddess, her beauty only magnified by her suffering! Your observation is as crude as your fighting style!"
But as Sanji turned, Mario's smile faded, replaced by a look of genuine concern. He could see the subtle signs the cook was trying to hide: the slight hitch in his breath, the way he favored his right side. The fight with the fishman martial artist had been brutal.
"Sanji," Mario said, his voice dropping its playful tone. "After this is over. You need to see the doctor."
Sanji waved a dismissive hand, lighting another cigarette. "It's nothing. A few bruised ribs. Don't worry about me, worry about the moss-head who decided to take a bath in his own blood."
But Mario held his gaze. "I'm serious. Kuroobi's strikes were no joke. Internal injuries are nothing to play with." He wasn't just saying it as a crewmate; he was saying it with the chilling knowledge of how often the Straw Hats pushed themselves past their limits, and how close they sometimes came to breaking.
For a moment, Sanji saw the real worry in Mario's eyes. He gave a curt, almost imperceptible nod. "Fine, fine. After we've celebrated. Now, be quiet. I need to watch over Nami-swan and make sure our captain doesn't accidentally destroy the entire coastline."
Usopp came skittering back to the group, chest puffed out, though his knees were still shaking. "Guys! I did it! I defeated that fishman sharpshooter! Oh, let me tell you, it was a glorious battle of wits and courage! He never stood a chance against the mighty Captain Uso—HIIIIK! ZORO! What happened to you???"
"Nothing," Zoro grunted, slumped against Johnny and Yosaku. The gash on his chest, the fresh scar from Mihawk, had reopened and was seeping blood through the crude, torn stitches.
"THAT IS NOT 'NOTHING'!" Usopp screeched, pointing a trembling finger.
Mario looked at the wound and a cold shudder ran down his spine. It was one thing to see it in panels; it was another to see the raw, angry flesh, to smell the coppery tang of blood in the air. The sheer, impossible willpower it took for Zoro to even stand, let alone fight Arlong, was staggering. It was a level of toughness that bordered on the supernatural, and it filled Mario with a profound mix of awe and horror.
"God lord, who the hell made these stitches???" A new voice, sharp and professional, cut through the panic. From the crowd of villagers emerged a man with a bandana sporting a red cross and a worn white coat. It was Doctor Nako.
"Dr. Nako!" Mario exclaimed, the name slipping out before he could stop himself.
The doctor paused, giving Mario a curious look. "Huh? How do you know me?"
Mario nervously fidgeted, his mind racing. "Ah, I... heard your name in the village. While we were, uh, running from the fishmen. Can you help him? He does not look good."
Nako was already kneeling, his experienced eyes assessing Zoro with grim efficiency. "Yep. He's at death's door… Stupid marimo-head," Sanji said, though his usual insult lacked its bite; he was watching the doctor's movements closely.
"I'm still good enough to kick your ass," Zoro muttered, his hand twitching toward a sword hilt. The movement was so weak it only prompted Nami to reach out and deliver a sharp thwack to both their heads.
"Shut up, both of you!" she scolded, her voice thick with worry.
CRASH!
The sound of shattering masonry tore their attention back to the main event. The fight between Luffy and Arlong was nearing its climax. From the upper floors of the crumbling Arlong Tower, desks, chairs, and—most significantly—torn maps and navigational charts came flying out through the windows. The entire edifice of Arlong's control was being physically dismantled.
Nami stared, stunned, as fragments of her prison, the maps she had been forced to draw, fluttered to the ground like confetti. The realization hit her, and the tears began to flow again, but these were tears of catharsis, of eight years of pent-up agony being released. "Thank you, Luffy," she whispered, her voice barely audible.
From within the tower, a voice roared, "GOMU GOMU NO…!" A rubbery leg stretched to impossible lengths, exploding through the roof high above. "...BATTLE AXE!"
The stretched leg descended like the hammer of a god. It struck the top of the tower and drove down, shearing through each floor with catastrophic force. The entire structure groaned, buckled, and then collapsed in on itself in an enormous cloud of dust, debris, and silence.
Everyone held their breath, the celebration frozen in anticipation. The villagers, the Straw Hats, all stared into the settling dust. Mario simply smiled, a wide, relieved grin. He knew.
A single figure rose from the center of the rubble. He was bloody, clothes torn, but his stance was unyielding, his defiance absolute. He stood atop the ruins of the park, the ruins of Nami's sorrow.
Arlong was nowhere to be seen. The fight was over.
Luffy tilted his head back, ignoring his own injuries, and filled his lungs.
"NAMI!!!!" he yelled, his voice echoing across the suddenly quiet island. "YOU ARE MY NAVIGATOR!"
The words were a decree. A promise. A final, shattering blow to the past.
Nami, now in full, joyous tears, a smile brighter than the sun finally breaking through on her face, nodded. "Got it…."
The silence held for one more second, and then the whole of Arlong Park exploded in celebration. Cheers, cries of relief, and the sound of eight years of oppression being lifted erupted into the East Blue sky. The fight was won.
The celebration was a living, breathing thing—a wave of laughter, tears, and pure, unadulterated joy washing over the ruins of the park. But it was cut short by a voice as slimy and unwelcome as oil on water.
"That is enough of celebration!"
A squad of Marines marched into the clearing, led by Captain Nezumi, his rat-like features twisted into a smug, opportunistic grin. The festive mood curdled instantly.
"Son of a bitch," Mario murmured, his entire body aching in protest. "I forgot about this asshole."
Nezumi's beady eyes scanned the devastation, the defeated fishmen, and the exhausted Straw Hats. "What a lucky day. I never thought the fishmen would be defeated. Such a great fight! Now lay down your arms and surrender. As representatives of the World Government, we'll be taking custody of the situation and… the spoils."
Before he could continue his weaselly speech, a blur of motion shot past the Straw Hats. Mario, ignoring the screaming protest of every muscle, closed the distance and drove his fist into Nezumi's face with every ounce of strength he had left.
THWACK!
The sound was immensely satisfying. Nezumi's head snapped back, and he crumpled to the ground with a squeak of surprise and pain. Everyone was stunned into silence—Marines and villagers alike.
Mario stood over him, chest heaving, fist throbbing. "Sorry," he said to the stunned crowd, his voice flat and devoid of any actual remorse. "I could not hold myself back."
That single act was the spark. The righteous fury that had been simmering in the villagers, and the sheer annoyance in the Straw Hats, ignited. What followed wasn't a battle; it was a one-sided pummeling. Zoro, despite his injuries, disarmed a Marine with a contemptuous flick of his wrist. Sanji delivered a swift, precise kick to another's gut. Usopp, emboldened, let loose a volley of pellets that had the rest of the soldiers dancing in comical pain. In seconds, the entire Marine squad was on the floor, moaning, surrounded by the defiant crew.
Nami walked calmly through the scene, picking up Luffy's treasured straw hat and placing it gently back on his head. Then she turned to Nezumi, who was twitching on the ground.
She stood over him, her staff held tight. "This," she said, her voice cold and clear, "is for shooting Nojiko." The staff came down on his side with a sharp crack.
"And this," thwack! "is for defiling Bellemere's orange fields."
Nezumi whimpered, clutching his ribs.
"You will rebuild this village with your own hands," Nami commanded, her tone leaving no room for argument. "You will not touch a single berry of the money in that room. It belongs to the village now." She leaned down, her eyes blazing, and tugged hard on his ridiculous whiskers, making him yelp. "And one more thing… Give me back my money!"
Mario smiled, a wide, genuine grin that made his sore face hurt. This was justice. This was Nami taking back her home.
Nezumi, utterly broken and terrified, frantically agreed, fumbling in his coat to produce a wad of bills. He shoved them into Nami's hand before scrambling to his feet and fleeing with his defeated squad, their tails literally between their legs.
As the last of the Marines disappeared, a true, untainted silence fell for a moment. Then, a single cheer went up from a villager. It was followed by another, and another, until the celebration erupted again, louder and more triumphant than before. The villagers, laughing and crying, surged forward, not towards the Straw Hats, but past them, running inland to spread the good news to every corner of Cocoyasi Island.
The fight was over. The oppressors were gone. The celebration could finally, truly begin.