The salt-spray air of the open sea was a tonic. The Going Merry cut through the gentle waves of the East Blue, her sails full of a steady wind that seemed to carry the last echoes of Cocoyasi's cheers. The mood on deck was one of relaxed contentment. Usopp was attempting to add a dramatic "Defeat of the Arlong Pirates" panel to the ship's railing with questionable artistic skill. Sanji was in the galley, the sounds and smells of a celebratory lunch already wafting through the air. Zoro was, predictably, asleep in a sunny spot, his bandaged chest rising and falling steadily.
Luffy was perched on his favorite spot, the sheep's head of the Merry, his sandals kicking idly against the wood. "So... where to next, Nami?"
Nami stood at the helm, a real, honest-to-goodness smile on her face as she consulted her own, now truly her own, maps. "Our course is set for Loguetown," she announced, her voice confident. "It's the last port before Reverse Mountain. We'll need to stock up on everything there. It's called the 'Town of the Beginning and the End'."
"Beginning and End? Why?" Luffy asked, tilting his head.
"It's where the Pirate King, Gold Roger, was born... and where he was executed," she explained.
A strange, focused silence fell over Luffy. "The Pirate King, huh..." he mused, his gaze turning out to the horizon, as if he could already see the place where his ultimate dream intersected with history.
Mario, who was coiling ropes nearby, felt a familiar thrill mixed with apprehension. Loguetown. The name was heavy with significance. He knew this wasn't just a supply stop; it was a crucible. It was where Smoker, the White Hunter, waited. It was where Buggy would make his vengeful return. And it was where the world's most wanted man, Monkey D. Dragon, would make his first, shadowy appearance.
"Hey, Mario," Luffy's voice broke into his thoughts. "You know about this place too?"
Mario looked up, caught off guard. He chose his words carefully. "Only stories. It's a famous place. They say it's a town where fate has a funny way of showing up."
Luffy grinned. "Shishishi! Good! I wanna see this fate guy."
As the day wore on, Mario found himself leaning on the railing, watching the sea. His body was still sore, but his mind was racing ahead. His resolve from the previous night solidified. If the opportunity presented itself in Loguetown, he would try to find a way to speak with Dragon. He didn't have a plan, just a desperate need to plant a seed. A warning about the future, about the machinations of the World Government, about the importance of the Revolutionary Army's mission. He knew it was a monumental risk. Dragon wasn't a man who suffered fools or unexplained informants. But the potential reward—altering the course of the coming war—was worth any personal danger.
His thoughts were interrupted by Nami, who came to stand beside him. "You're quiet," she observed. "Still hurting?"
"A little," he admitted. "But mostly just thinking. The Grand Line... it's going to be something else, isn't it?"
Nami's smile was a mix of excitement and nervousness. "According to all the charts and logs, it's a sea where common sense goes to die. The weather is insane, the navigation is a nightmare, and the monsters... well, they're not like the ones in the East Blue." She looked at him, her eyes sharp. "You sure you're ready for that?"
Mario met her gaze. He thought of Crocodile's sandstorms waiting in Alabasta, of Enel's lightning on Skypiea, of the shadows of Enies Lobby. He thought of a certain doctor on a snowy mountain.
"No," he said honestly, a small smile touching his lips. "I'm not sure I'm ready. But I'm sure I'm not leaving this crew. So I'll get ready."
Nami nodded, a look of understanding passing between them. She then nudged him playfully. "Good. Because after Loguetown, my maps are going to need a lot of interpretation. I might need another pair of eyes."
The following days were a peaceful interlude of training and recovery. The calm sea and steady winds provided the perfect backdrop for Mario's newfound determination. The near-disaster against Arlong had exposed his limitations in stark relief. He couldn't just rely on desperate bursts of power; he needed real strength.
His training began at dawn. The first time he dragged himself onto the deck, his muscles screaming in protest from the previous day's efforts, he found Zorro already there, lifting absurdly heavy weights with a focused grunt.
"Zorro," Mario began, using the nickname without a second thought. "I need to get stronger. Faster. My techniques are... sloppy. Can you help?"
Zorro lowered the weights, his one eye assessing Mario. He saw the resolve, the same kind he saw in his own reflection. He didn't offer praise or encouragement; that wasn't his way. He simply grunted. "Your stance is weak. You're all attack, no root. You'll break before your enemy does." He gestured to an empty space on the deck. "Start there. Horse stance. Until your legs give out. Then do it again."
It was brutal, monotonous, and exactly what Mario needed. Zorro's "help" was a regimen of pure physical conditioning—holding punishing stances, performing endless repetitions of basic strikes, and learning to breathe through the burn. Zorro would occasionally deliver a sharp, corrective smack with the flat of a sword to Mario's back or legs when his form faltered.
"A weak foundation makes a weak fighter," was his only explanation. Under the swordsman's unforgiving tutelage, Mario felt his body hardening, his connection to the deck becoming unshakable.
When he wasn't being put through his paces by Zorro, Mario sought solitude. He found a quiet spot near the stern, closed his eyes, and tried to meditate. He needed to master the mental state required for the Rokushiki techniques. Tekkai wasn't just about flexing muscles; it was about an absolute, unyielding stillness of mind, a total focus that could ignore pain and fear.
He would sit for hours, focusing on the rhythm of his heartbeat, the feel of the sea breeze, trying to find that core of calm he had only glimpsed during the fight. It was a frustrating process, but he began to find moments of clarity, fleeting seconds where the world narrowed to a single point of focus.
It was this focus on speed that caught Sanji's attention. Watching Mario practice his crude, explosive version of Soru—kicking off the deck in a burst of speed that often left him stumbling—the cook approached with a critical eye.
"Your form is atrocious," Sanji stated, blowing a stream of smoke. "You're wasting energy. You're trying to push off with your whole leg like a frog. It's inefficient."
Mario, panting and leaning against the mast, looked up. "Got a better idea, dartboard brow?"
Surprisingly, Sanji did.
"It's in the ankles and the instep," he explained, demonstrating with a graceful, almost imperceptible shift of his weight. "A rapid, consecutive kick against the ground. Dozens of times in an instant. It's not a jump; it's a vibration. You're not pushing yourself forward; you're telling the air to get out of your way." He saw the application immediately in a flash.
For the next few hours, Sanji drilled Mario on footwork, on the precise, snapping motion required. It was a different kind of training than Zorro's; it was about finesse and precision over raw power.
Luffy watched all of this with interest, usually while chewing on a piece of meat.
"Shishishi! You're getting all serious, Mario!" he'd laugh, before going back to his own, less structured routine of stretching his rubbery limbs in impossible ways.
By the end of the week, Mario was exhausted, sore, but fundamentally changed. He couldn't perfectly execute Soru or Tekkai yet, but his movements were sharper, his stance more stable. He had taken the first real steps from being a fan in their world to being a fighter within it.
While not performing his grueling physical training, Mario would meditate, seeking that core of mental stillness. But even with his eyes closed, the vibrant life of the ship washed over him. He heard the gentle, rhythmic flapping of wings as a messenger albatross circled overhead, followed by the soft thud of a dropped bundle and Nami's immediate, exasperated grumbling.
"Twenty Berries extra for 'East Blue delivery'?!" she muttered, unfurling the newspaper. "If you increase the price one more time, I will not buy a newspaper again! Hmph!"
Mario smiled, stretching as he came out of his meditation. The peaceful moment was shattered by Usopp's voice, tinged with both pride and panic.
"And don't come near me, Mario! I'm formulating my secret new weapon: the Tabasco Star! Its incendiary heat is no joke, capable of bringing a giant to his knees with a single tear!"
Suddenly, a blur of rubbery limbs shot across the deck. Luffy, chasing a stray meatball, collided with the distracted Usopp. The concoction in Usopp's hand flew upward, and a single, fateful drop splashed directly into the sniper's eye.
"GYAAAAAAAAAAAAH!" A piercing scream tore through the air. Usopp dropped to the deck, writhing in agony. "MY EYE! IT'S MELTING! I'M BLIND! THE PAIN! HOT! HOT!"
"I told you to leave Nami-swan's tangerines alone, they are off-limits!" Sanji's voice cut through the chaos from the other side of the deck. He stood protectively in front of the small tangerine grove, a leg raised threateningly towards a pouting Luffy.
"Oh, come on, just a small one! A tiny, little one!" Luffy whined, his neck stretching to peer around Sanji. "And Mario put a lock on the refrigerator! I can't even get a snack!"
Mario sighed, the role of crew mediator settling comfortably on his shoulders. "Sigh… come with me, Luffy. I'll unlock it, but just one sandwich. And you have to promise to leave the tangerines alone."
Luffy's despair vanished instantly. "YOSH!"
It was then that Nami, who had been scanning the newspaper, let out a horrified gasp. Her face paled. "Oh no."
She slowly lifted a freshly printed Wanted poster. The face staring back was unmistakably their captain, wearing a wide, carefree grin. Beneath it, in bold, black letters, it read: WANTED: ALIVE OR DEAD - MONKEY D. LUFFY - 30,000,000 BERRIES.
Luffy's rubbery arm shot out, snatching the poster from her hands. He stared at it, his own grin widening to impossible proportions. "SHISHISHI! That's me! HAHAHA! Finally, I got a wanted poster! It's so cool!"
"That is not a good thing!" Nami yelled, her voice cracking with stress. "This is a thirty-million-berry bounty! Every marine and bounty hunter in the East Blue will recognize you now! They'll be lining up to claim your head!"
"Let them come," Luffy said, his voice filled with utter, unshakable confidence. He held the poster up for everyone to see, his pride evident. Zoro gave a grunt of approval, Sanji offered a rare, non-smitten smirk, and Usopp, still clutching his eye, managed a thumbs-up.
"Does anyone realize the gravity of this situation?!" Nami asked, her shoulders slumping in defeat.
Mario walked over and placed a hand on her shoulder. "Just leave it, Nami." he said, nodding toward their beaming captain, "it's better not to think about it. It's easier on the nerves."
Before the debate could continue, Zoro's voice, calm and clear, cut through from the bow. He was pointing ahead, his good eye narrowed against the glare of the sun. "Land ahead."
All squabbles forgotten, the crew rushed to the railing. There, on the horizon, lay a sprawling port city, its buildings climbing up gentle hills toward a prominent execution platform visible even from this distance.
"Loguetown," Nami whispered, the name heavy with history. "We're here."
The Town of the Beginning and the End awaited them.