Luffy, Zorro, Sanji, and Mario were a whirlwind of motion, sprinting through the rain-lashed streets, deflecting and dodging the relentless marine attacks. The storm was now a living entity, howling in tandem with the chaos. Suddenly, their path was blocked by a new figure. A marine woman with glasses and a determined glint in her eyes, her sword already drawn.
"Roronoa Zorro! I'll take that Wado Ichimonji from you!" Tashigi declared, her voice cutting through the downpour.
"Damn it, marimo-head! Since when did you have a woman chasing you?!" Sanji fumed, torn between his chivalry and the need to escape.
Zorro crossed swords with her in a shower of sparks, a fierce grin on his face. "Go ahead! This will only take a minute!"
Mario, Luffy, and Sanji nodded, trusting their swordsman completely, and surged forward, leaving Zorro to his duel. The rain intensified, a near-solid wall of water.
And then, they saw him.
A mountain of a man materializing from the storm, his spiky white hair unmoved by the wind, two cigars glowing in his mouth like the eyes of a demon.
"This is as far as you go," Smoker's voice was a low, rasping growl that promised no escape.
Luffy, without a word of warning, fired a Gomu Gomu no Pistol straight at his head. The fist passed harmlessly through a plume of white smoke. Sanji followed up in a flash, his leg connecting with a powerful kick to Smoker's temple, but his foot simply dissipated into the same logia mist, doing nothing.
"I don't have time for runts," Smoker snarled, his body beginning to solidify, his jitte poised to strike.
Mario skidded to a halt, his heart hammering against his ribs as he watched Luffy and Sanji get ensnared by tendrils of solidifying smoke.
Smoker. Logia-type, Moku Moku no Mi. The reality was far more terrifying than the manga.
The man's presence was a physical weight, an absolute authority that seemed to still the very air around him.
As Mario instinctively evaded a lashing smoke-tentacle, his mind raced.
Dragon will come… he has to. But a new, sharper thought cut through the panic.
Do I always need to be saved? Didn't I promise myself I would protect them?
He closed his eyes, blocking out the roar of the storm and the shouts of his crew. Complete clarity washed over him. His body, trained by Zorro and honed by Sanji, continued to move on instinct, dodging and weaving with precise, economical motions.
I just need to focus my spirit. That's how it works. I need to find that feeling from meditation.
He reached inward, tapping into the very core of his being. He remembered the quivering of his soul under Dragon's Conqueror's Haki, the immense pressure that should have crushed him. But something had helped him endure—a small, weak, but impossibly resilient spark of will. He wasn't trying to emulate Armament Haki; he was trying to be it. He was forcing his own indomitable will to the surface, to become a shield, a weapon. He guided that desperate, focused power into his right fist, pouring every ounce of his resolve, his fear, and his promise into it. A faint, metallic glimmer flickered around his knuckles, unstable but present.
Soru!
His eyes snapped open. The world became a blur. He was already in front of Smoker, having crossed the distance in an instant. Smoker's eyes widened in mild surprise, but his logia arrogance remained; he didn't even attempt to dodge, believing his devil fruit would simply negate the blow.
He was wrong.
As Mario's glistening fist neared his face, shock replaced surprise in Smoker's expression. The faint metallic sheen wasn't just for show—it was the physical manifestation of a will strong enough to reject the intangibility of a Logia. It was too late for Smoker to react.
Mario's fist, empowered by a crude, nascent, but very real Armament Haki, connected squarely with the marine captain's jaw.
The impact wasn't just physical; it was a shockwave of defiance. The sound was a solid, satisfying CRACK that cut through the storm.
Smoker's head snapped back, his cigars flying from his mouth. The look of utter, disbelieving shock was frozen on his face as the force lifted him off his feet and sent him hurtling backward, crashing through the wall of a nearby building in an explosion of shattered brick and splintered wood.
The smoke tendrils holding Luffy and Sanji instantly dissolved. The two stared, stunned, at Mario, who stood panting, his fist still clenched and throbbing, a wisp of steam rising from his knuckles in the cold rain. He had done it. He wasn't just a passenger anymore. He had changed the story with his own two hands.
Smoker rose from the rubble, chunks of masonry tumbling from his broad shoulders. A trickle of blood ran from the corner of his mouth, and the fury in his eyes was matched only by the profound shock. A rookie, an unknown, had not only hit him but had hurt him. The phantom ache in his jaw was a blasphemy against his Logia nature. Slowly, deliberately, he drew his Jitte, the intent to capture replaced by something far more serious.
The marines who had finally caught up stared in horror, their morale shaken by the sight of their invincible captain wounded. In that moment of stunned silence, Zorro, having decisively ended his duel, sprinted past them to rejoin his crew.
"We need to run. Now," Mario declared, his voice tight. The metallic shimmer on his knuckles was gone, and his arm throbbed with a deep, resonant pain. He had poured everything into that single blow.
"Jep! I don't like that guy, especially because I can't hit him!" Luffy agreed, his usual grin absent, replaced by a focused intensity.
They turned and sprinted as one, a unified bolt of motion heading for the docks. As they fled, Mario chanced a look back. He was the only one who saw it—the massive, cloaked figure of Monkey D. Dragon emerging from the shadowed alley, his hand grasping Smoker's wrist with an iron grip, halting his pursuit. And in that fleeting moment, Mario could have sworn he saw the revolutionary leader's eyes find his, a ghost of an approving smile on his lips before a monumental gust of wind, like the breath of a storm god, howled down the street, sweeping the marines back in a tangle of white uniforms and confusion.
***
The crew finally burst onto the dock, the rain stinging their faces. The Going Merry was a sight for sore eyes, and Usopp and Nami were already aboard, their faces pale with anxiety.
"GUYS! Get on the ship, we need to go! The storm is getting stronger!" Usopp shrieked, waving his arms frantically.
They scrambled aboard without a second to spare. Nami immediately began barking navigational orders, her voice cutting through the gale as the ship pitched into the turbulent waters, leaving the chaos of Loguetown behind.
After helping secure the storage, ensuring every crate and barrel was fastened against the violent rocking, Mario emerged onto the deck, carrying a single, large barrel of cheap beer he had bought specifically for this moment. The crew was already gathered, their adrenaline fading into a shared, breathless exhilaration.
"Yahoooo! What nice weather!" Luffy cheered, his spirits utterly unaffected by the lashing rain and howling wind.
Nami pointed finger towards the horizon, where a massive, impossible beam of light cut through the storm's gloom. "See that light house there? It's called the Cape of Promise… the light of guidance. Beyond it lies the entrance to the Grand Line."
"So… what now?" Usopp asked, his voice a mixture of terror and excitement.
Sanji, lighting a cigarette that was immediately doused by the rain, looked at the barrel in Mario's hands. "I think it calls for a celebration. And a pledge."
Mario smiled, his heart swelling with a profound sense of déjà vu and belonging. This was the moment. He set the barrel down in the center of the deck with a solid thud.
Sanji was the first, placing his foot firmly on the barrel. "To find the All Blue!"
Luffy's sandal landed next. "To become the Pirate King!"
Zorro's boot followed. "To become the World's Greatest Swordsman!"
Nami placed her foot beside his. "To draw a complete map of the entire world and become rich!"
"T-TO BE A BRAVE WARRIOR OF THE SEAS!" Usopp declared, his voice cracking but his foot steady.
All eyes turned to Mario. His heart fluttered, not with nervousness, but with the weight of his promise. He slowly, deliberately, lifted his leg and placed his foot upon the barrel, completing the circle.
"To protect what I love," he said, his voice clear and strong, carrying over the storm, "and to help write the happy ending this story deserves."
There was a moment of quiet confusion at his words, but it was dismissed just as quickly, swallowed by the shared understanding of their bond. They were a crew. Their dreams were their own, but their journey was shared.
Everyone smiled, a unified, determined energy crackling between them.
"NOW!" Luffy yelled.
With a powerful, synchronized thrust of their legs, they brought their feet down, shattering the barrel. Cheap beer and wooden staves splashed across the deck, washed away instantly by the sea and rain—a sacrament to their promises, a ceremony for their dreams.
The Going Merry surged forward, carried by the storm itself, aiming straight for the treacherous passage at the base of the Reverse Mountain. The great voyage, their voyage, had only just begun.
"TO THE GRAND LINE!"