Mario winced as he finished wrapping the last of the bandages around his forearms, the linen stark white against his sun-tanned skin. He flexed his fingers, testing the mobility. A dull, deep ache throbbed all the way to his shoulders, a constant reminder of the price of his new technique.
„Well, it's not that bad," he assessed with a grimace. „I could use it in a fight once. Maybe twice if my life depended on it. That's my limit, I think."
He focused inward, and a small, grateful smile touched his lips. Somehow, the faint ember of Haki he had nurtured was helping. It wasn't healing him, not exactly, but it was like a soothing current flowing beneath the pain, helping his body manage the trauma. More than that, he had an innate, inexplicable knowing that the damage, while severe, would mend far faster than it ever could have in his old world. The very air of this place seemed to vibrate with vitality.
„I guess in this world, it's easier to heal from wounds," he mused aloud, a theory slowly forming.
His introspection was cut short by a sight on the horizon. The colossal form of Laboon shifted, and from a massive opening in the whale's side, the familiar, cheerful form of the Going Merry emerged, her sail billowing in the sea breeze.
„Time is up, I guess," Mario sighed, a mix of frustration and acceptance in his voice. „I'll have to continue another time."
As the Merry glided towards the shore, he could already see a familiar straw hat bouncing at the helm. Luffy was waving both arms wildly, his voice carrying across the water.
„OIIII MARIO! Are you alright?"
The whole crew was gathered at the bow, their expressions a mosaic of concern and relief. Nami looked genuinely worried, Usopp was peering with dramatic suspicion, and Zoro's single visible eye was narrowed, analytically scanning Mario's bandaged form. Sanji was already lighting a cigarette, his posture tense.
„God, I love those guys," Mario whispered under his breath, a wave of profound affection washing over him. This was his crew. This was his home.
Suddenly, two rubbery arms shot out from the ship, stretching across the remaining distance. Before Mario could react, they grabbed him by the shoulders and yanked him forward. He became a red blur, crashing squarely into Luffy's chest with a comical THUD that sent them both tumbling onto the deck.
„What happened to your arms! Did someone attack you while we were gone? Where is the enemy!?" Luffy demanded, scrambling on top of him, his head whipping around as he searched for a non-existent threat. The pain in Mario's arms flared, but he couldn't stop the wide, genuine smile from spreading across his face.
„No one attacked me, Captain. Just did some training, don't worry."
„Training?" Luffy asked, his brow furrowed in confusion, as if the concept of someone hurting themselves voluntarily was utterly foreign.
„Yeah, training. Don't worry about it," Mario repeated, gently pushing his enthusiastic captain off.
„Is this another friend of yours?" a new, gruff voice inquired.
Doctor Crocus was disembarking from the Merry, his towering frame and impressive feather afro marking him as a man of experience.
„This is Mario, our Quartermaster!" Luffy announced proudly, dusting himself off. „He didn't get swallowed like we did."
„Nice to meet you," Mario said, instinctively dipping his head in a gesture of deep respect. This was the man who had dedicated decades to caring for Laboon and was a former crewmate of the Pirate King himself.
Crocus's stern expression softened a fraction. „Such respect. I like that. Come now, let's go to the table in front of the lighthouse. We can talk more there."
As Crocus led the way, the crew settled around the sun-drenched table. The tension melted away, replaced by the easy camaraderie that defined the Straw Hats. Soon, the enticing aroma of food filled the air as Sanji, having assessed there was no immediate danger, whipped up a magnificent lunch. As they ate and laughed, with Luffy already retelling their wild adventure inside a whale, Mario felt his pain subside into a background hum. His arms were wounded, but his spirit was fortified. He was back with his family, and he was one step closer to being the protector they needed him to be. The training would continue, but for now, this was enough.
The mood around the table had turned somber. Crocus, his voice a low, weathered rumble, wove the tragic tale of Laboon. He spoke of the promise made fifty years ago, of a cheerful, trusting whale who still waited, his massive head scarred from crashing against the Red Line, for a crew that would never return.
Mario listened, the secret a heavy weight on his tongue. He knew the truth. He knew that one of them, a gentleman skeleton with an afro and a penchant for panty jokes, was still alive, drifting in the fog of the Florian Triangle. The sheer, wonderful absurdity of it, the anticipation of the music and laughter Brook would bring, made a smile spread across his face despite the sadness of the story. He could almost hear the violin.
„Waaaaaahhhhh!" Luffy's sudden, furious wail shattered the quiet moment. The Straw Hat captain was on his feet, tears streaming down his face, his body trembling with a profound, childish grief for the whale's pain.
„Wait—" Cold sweat instantly beaded on Mario's brow. He saw the look in Luffy's eyes—that specific, unhinged blend of empathy and impulsivity that preceded chaos.
„Gomu Gomu no... ARRANGING FLOWER!"
It was too late. Luffy's arms shot out, snatching the Going Merry's main mast. With a grunt of effort, he ripped it from its housing and, using it as a colossal javelin, plunged it directly into Laboon's head.
"THAT SON OF A BITCH IS DESTROYING THE GOING MERRY!" Mario screamed inside, a silent roar of pure, unadulterated fury.
He watched, helpless, as the precious caravel, their home, was brutally vandalized by her own captain. Splinters of wood and torn sailcloth filled the air. Why didn't he stop it? Why did he, with all his foreknowledge, stand there like a statue?
He ground his teeth so hard his jaw ached. To the others, it was a ship. To Mario, the Going Merry was a beloved character, a friend, a crewmate whose brave, fragile spirit would one day break entirely. This damage felt like a premonition of that heartbreak.
The fierce, one-sided battle between a rubber boy and a continent-sized whale raged on, a spectacle of terrifying power and misguided resolve. When it was over, Luffy, panting and bruised, stood proudly before the bleeding Laboon.
„I am good, right? But we still don't know the outcome of the fight," Luffy declared, pointing a determined finger at the whale. „So we have to fight again in the future. Your friends are already dead, but I am not! I will never be defeated. So wait for us! We will be back for sure!" His signature laugh, "Shishishishi!", rang out, a sound so pure and full of promise it could indeed melt the coldest of hearts.
And it did. A deep, resonant, and joyful bellow echoed back from Laboon. "BOOOOOOOOO!" The whale, understanding the promise, splashed happily in the sea, no longer alone in his vigil.
„HAHAH….Ouch!"
The sound of the impact was a sharp THWACK. Mario's fist, hardened not by Tekkai but by sheer, protective rage, connected with the back of Luffy's head, sending a visible puff of steam into the air. The captain stumbled forward, clutching his skull.
"CAPTAIN!" Mario's voice was low, a dangerous growl that made the rest of the crew freeze. "I know you had good intentions. I know you let your adrenaline and your big, stupid, wonderful heart hinder your reasoning. But..." He stepped closer, his bandaged arms pointing at the damaged mast. "If you ever use our ship as a weapon again, if you continue to damage our home, I swear to God I will end you. Personally."
"You son of a bitch captain!" Usopp shrieked, finally finding his voice as he rushed to the Merry's side, his hands hovering over the splintered wood. "You damaged the gift from Kaya! This is a masterpiece of craftsmanship, you ungrateful rubber-maniac!"
For a moment, Luffy just rubbed the fresh lump on his head, looking between Mario's livid face and Usopp's tearful one. He saw the genuine hurt in their eyes, the love they had for the ship that he, in his impulsive solution, had taken for granted. A flicker of understanding, rare and profound, passed over his face.
"Shishishi," he laughed again, but this time it was softer, almost apologetic. "Okay. Sorry, Merry."
***
Mario and Usopp worked in furious, synchronized silence, their shared anger fueling their repairs. Splinters were gathered, the mast was reseated and reinforced with spare planks and countless nails, and the torn sail was stitched with thick, durable thread. For now, the Going Merry was whole again, but the memory of the violation lingered in the fresh wood and new seams.
„Sigh… I'm sorry, Merry. I completely forgot about our idiot captain's capacity for destruction," Mario murmured, gently stroking the repaired mast as if soothing a living creature.
„That idiot! I can't believe what he did!" Usopp seethed, his hands still trembling with a mix of residual rage and exertion. They had done their best, but God only knew if it was enough. The mast felt secure, but the structural stress was a hidden worry. They desperately needed a real shipwright. They needed Franky, but he was years and an entire sea away. This patchwork would have to hold.
„I swear to God, if he does this again, I'll lace every single one of his meals with Tabasco Stars until he cries for mercy," Usopp vowed, a dark glint in his eye.
As they disembarked, wiping sweat and sawdust from their brows, they found the rest of the crew ready for departure, accompanied by two new, bedraggled figures: Ms. Wednesday and Mr. 9.
There she is, Mario thought, his breath catching slightly. The princess who will move a nation. The main character of the Alabasta Arc.
Ms. Wednesday—Nefertari Vivi, though they didn't know it yet—was even more striking in person. Her long, sapphire-blue hair was tied back, and her eyes, though shadowed with fear and determination, held a noble grace. It was another stark reminder of this world's impossible vibrancy; every character he met felt more alive than any drawing could convey.
„These two idiots are going with us," Nami announced, her voice dripping with exasperation.
„Not by choice!" the duo whined in perfect, pathetic unison.
***
The crew began their final preparations to cast off. Mario was the last to board. He paused at the gangplank, then turned and walked back to where Crocus stood, a silent sentinel before his lighthouse.
„Sir…" Mario began, his head bowed slightly, not in submission, but in respect. „Why do you stay here? Why did you never leave? With your knowledge and your connections, you could have lived a dozen greater lives."
A knowing glint appeared in Crocus's eye. „Oh… so it was you in my lighthouse. I had a feeling someone had been poking around."
„I am sorry, sir. I couldn't contain my curiosity. You were one of Roger's pirates. The doctor, no less… Why did you never tell anyone? Why hide here?"
„Tell anyone? Why?" Crocus chuckled, a dry, rustling sound. „So the World Government could send an armada to turn this peaceful cape into a battlefield? So I could spend my remaining years looking over my shoulder?"
Mario nodded. He knew that was the practical reason, but he sensed there was more. He had never believed a man who sailed with the King was weak or simply hiding.
„No… my time has come and passed," Crocus continued, his gaze drifting to the colossal form of Laboon, who was now watching them depart with a calm, trusting eye. „The young ones are the ones who need to sail into the world and change it. I am old. The least I can do, the greatest thing I can do, is quietly live my life and tend to my dear friend. This is not a prison. It is my chosen peace."
Then Crocus turned his piercing gaze back to Mario. „A more interesting question is why you didn't take the Devil Fruit? It was right there for the taking."
Mario met his eyes, his own resolve hardening. „It was not mine to take… and I don't believe I need that kind of power to protect what I love." He said it with a bitter edge, thinking of his still-aching arms and the limits of his own flesh.
„Gahahaha!" Crocus's laughter boomed across the shore, loud and full-throated. „Good! Good! There are still people like you in this world… just like Roger! Mario, was it? Good!" The laughter faded, but the intensity in his eyes burned brighter, almost suffocating in its weight. „Then go out into the world and change it! Bend it to your WILL! Do not let it take anything from you! Protect your peace with your own two hands!"
The words struck Mario like a physical blow, a final blessing and a challenge from a man who had seen the world's end. With a final, deep nod of gratitude, Mario turned and boarded the Going Merry. As the ship pulled away from the twin capes, he stood at the railing, watching the lone lighthouse and its two guardians shrink on the horizon, the fire Crocus had ignited now burning steadily within his own heart.