After mentally rehearsing the plan one last time, Mario steeled his resolve: he would part ways with the Straw Hat crew after Jaya. His mind churned with doubts, but beneath them lay a stubborn spark of purpose. The truth was, he had no clear idea how to reach his next destination, yet he trusted that the Saruyama Alliance salvage crew could point him in the right direction. They were rough around the edges, but resourceful—and right now, resourcefulness mattered more than comfort.
Best-case scenario? Maybe—just maybe—he'd get a shot at kicking some Blackbeard ass. The thought brought a grim smile to his face. But when his thoughts drifted to Doflamingo, that smile faded. Haki had given him a new kind of confidence, yes—a pulse of power he'd only begun to mold. But mastery? That was still a distant shore. He could harden his fists, sense intent, push back against weaker foes. Against a Warlord who had twisted the Grand Line into his personal playground, though? Mario wasn't delusional.
The question lingered, cold and honest:
How far can I go with this power?
Not in a fit of rage. Not by luck. But truly—when his back was against the wall and the world's monsters came calling. He didn't have an answer yet. But leaving the Straw Hats was the first step toward finding one.
Mario exhaled and pinched the bridge of his nose.
"For what purpose was I even brought into this world…"
His head was cloudy. Truth be told, he'd never really thought about it. He had just been trying to save his favorite manga characters—clinging to their lives like they were his own. But now… was it coincidence that he met the Straw Hats when he did? Why was his soul transferred to this body? Had some god rolled the dice, or was there a quiet, terrifying design behind it all?
He shook his head and folded the map, then put the books away, tracing his fingers along the worn leather of a spine. The weight of unanswerable questions pressed against his ribs.
He sighed.
"Well," he muttered to the empty room, "I always dreamed of being isekai'd into a manga. Lucky it wasn't by a truck-kun."
A small smile escaped his lips—fragile, but real.
"MARIO! GET OUT HERE!"
The door slammed open with violent enthusiasm, and Luffy barged in, eyes sparkling with chaotic glee.
"You HAVE to see this! I'M CHOPPER!"
Luffy had antlers on his head.
Antlers made from arms.
Nico Robin's arms, to be precise—sprouted from the top of Luffy's straw hat, folded into crude, branching shapes. One hand even wiggled its fingers like deer ears twitching.
Mario had no idea how he'd imagined this scene looking in real life. Back when he was just a reader, safe on the other side of a page, it might have seemed quirky. Endearing, even. But now, standing three feet away from it in the humid afternoon light of the Going Merry?
This was not funny.
Terrifying, maybe. Existentially unnerving, absolutely. But funny? Far from it.
Behind Luffy, Robin leaned against the doorframe with her usual serene smile, as if she hadn't just grafted her limbs onto her captain's skull like some kind of botanical nightmare. Usopp peeked from around the corner. Zorro just walked past muttering,
"I'm not dealing with this."
Mario stared at the antlers. The antlers stared back—well, one of the hands gave a little wave.
He opened his mouth. Closed it. Opened it again.
"Luffy," he said slowly, voice hollow, "those are Robin's arms. On your head."
"Yeah! Now I'm a reindeer! I'M CHOPPER, MARIO. SAY HELLO TO CHOPPER."
"You're not—you know what? No." Mario pinched the bridge of his nose so hard he saw stars.
Luffy gleamed.
"YES! And We haven't even done the arm-antler dance yet!"
"There is no dance."
"There is NOW."
Behind them, Robin chuckled softly.
"I could make more arms if you'd like a tail, Captain."
"YES."
"No," Mario groaned.
But somewhere beneath the absurdity—beneath the confusion, the fear, the weight of destiny pressing on his shoulders—he felt something loosen. A laugh bubbled up from his chest, rusty and unexpected.
Maybe he didn't know why he was here. Maybe Doflamingo would crush him. Maybe Blackbeard was a storm he wasn't ready to face.
But right now, Luffy had arm-antlers and Robin was growing him a second pair, and Usopp was laugh-crying in the hallway.
And for just a moment, that was enough.
***
After the initial chaos—the laughing, the drinking, the surreal image of Luffy headbutting people with Robin's borrowed arm-antlers—Mario just wanted to lie down. Usopp, Chopper, and Luffy were still bouncing around the deck like over-caffeinated children, so he slipped away unnoticed.
He climbed up to the bow of the Going Merry and settled onto the top of the figurehead.
Luffy was always hogging this spot, and Mario had to admit—it was the most comfortable spot on the ship.
It was made of wood.
It was shaped like a cheerful sheep.
And yet, lying there with his back against the curved neck and his legs dangling, it felt like the mattress had been molded just for him. He had no idea why.
Maybe it was the gentle rise and fall of the waves. Maybe it was the salt-tinged breeze. Or maybe it was simply the moment of true quiet he'd had since Alabasta.
He closed his eyes, sun dipping warm against his face, and let himself just be for once.
Thwack.
„What the—" Something small and papery landed across his face. He peeled it off and held it up.
A small scrap of paper. Folded. Old.
„Huh?" He flipped it over. Blank. He looked up toward the sky to see where it had fallen from.
„Oh SHI—"
„What is that?" Sanji was already looking up, a lit cigarette frozen halfway to his lips.
„Is it rain?" Usopp squinted, then his eyes widened into saucers. „THAT'S NOT RAIN."
„A falling ship?" Luffy asked, tilting his head so far it looked like his neck might snap. He didn't sound scared. He sounded curious. Like a cat watching a mouse do something stupid.
„A GALLEON?!" Nami shrieked.
The shadow grew.
Fast.
Too fast.
A massive vessel—three masts, torn sails, a carved dragon prow—plummeted straight toward them, screaming with the weight of a thousand nightmares.
„BRACE FOR IMPACT!" Mario screamed, instincts taking over before his brain could catch up.
He launched himself off the figurehead and into the air, leg slicing through the wind.
„Rankyaku!"
A compressed blade of air shot from his hand, slicing through the largest chunk of falling debris heading straight for the three—Usopp, Chopper, and a frozen Nami. Splinters exploded around them, but they were alive.
„Protect the ship!" Mario barked, landing hard on the deck.
The galleon crashed into the sea beside them with a sound like thunder splitting the world. A wall of water rose—white and roaring—and slammed into the Going Merry, sending her pitching sideways. The deck tilted. Men slid. Chopper rolled across the wood like a fuzzy basketball.
„HOLD ON!"
„Turn the rudder!" Nami screamed, gripping the railing with white knuckles.
„AS IF THAT WOULD WORK IN THESE WAVES!" Zorro roared back, one arm locked around the mast, the other already on one of his swords.
Mario, Luffy, and Sanji moved like a single organism—kicking, punching, deflecting. A broken spar. A barrel. A chunk of railing that would have gutted the Merry's hull. Luffy's rubber limbs became a net. Sanji's legs became windmills. Mario's Rankyaku carved paths through the airborne wreckage.
Still, some got through. A sharp crack. A splintering groan. Nothing major, thank whatever god was listening.
Then, as suddenly as it began—silence.
The waves settled. The galleon's remains bobbed nearby, half-swallowed by the sea. The sun returned, warm and indifferent, as if a giant ship hadn't just fallen from the sky onto their heads.
Everyone stood there, panting. Soaked. Alive.
„Why," Luffy said slowly, blinking, „did a ship fall from the sky?"
„Forget the ship!" Nami was already at the helm, hands trembling over the log pose. Her face went pale. „The Log Pose is broken!"
„What do you mean, broken?" Usopp scrambled over.
„It's not broken," she whispered. „It's… pointing almost vertically."
Silence.
„No," Mario breathed.
„The Log Pose is never wrong," Robin said, stepping out from behind the mast. Her voice was calm, but her eyes were fixed on the clouds above.
„If it's pointing like that… it means it has locked on." She paused, letting the weight of her words settle. „To a Sky Island."
Everyone looked up.