The newfound confidence was a tangible force, a current of electricity that sharpened his senses. In less than ten seconds, the remaining weaker fishmen were down. A series of sharp thwips sounded from the periphery as Usopp's pellets found their marks, sniping the last stragglers with pinpoint accuracy. The air, once thick with the chaos of battle, grew still and heavy.
Now, only the real threats remained. The Arlong Pirates' officers: Hatchan, the six-armed swordsman; Chew, with his projectile water bullets; Kuroobi, the martial arts master; and the hulking presences of Kaneshiro, Pisaro, and Take. They formed a menacing line, their expressions a mix of contempt and newfound wariness.
Arlong's shark-like grin was a terrifying sight. His gaze swept over Zoro's bandaged torso, Sanji's poised elegance, and finally lingered on Mario, who stood with a composure that hadn't been there minutes before.
„Pirates?" Arlong snorted, the sound dripping with disdain. „So that's how you guys know each other. A band of humans scrambling together. Pathetic."
A fishman near the broken wall of the park pointed a trembling finger towards the gate. „Hey! That guy… he's still alive! I knew it! I knew Nami betrayed us!" The accusation cut through the tension, a confirmation of their deepest suspicion.
Outside the fence, the villagers of Cocoyasi were stunned into a profound silence. Genzo's hat was clutched tightly in his hands, his usual gruffness replaced by wide-eyed disbelief. They had expected a slaughter, a brief, tragic end to the Straw Hats' defiance. They had not expected this.
The sight of Zoro, wounded yet unbreakable, and Sanji, effortlessly graceful, was one thing. But seeing Mario—someone who looked more like one of them than a pirate—hold his ground was a spark igniting something long extinguished in their hearts: hope.
The silence was broken by the soft, determined voice of Nojiko. "They're... fighting back."
Inside the park, the atmosphere was crystalline with focus. Zoro adjusted the bandana on his head, the fabric snapping taut. "Annoying chatter," he grumbled, a feral grin spreading beneath it. "Moss-head," Sanji said, lighting a fresh cigarette. "The big ugly one is mine. Don't get in my way."
"Tch. You're the one who'll be in the way, dartboard brow."
„SAHAHAHA!" Arlong's laugh was a harsh, grating sound that echoed across the ruined park. „So you are only here to get Nami? Just what do you think four measly humans can accomplish against me?!"
The sheer, unadulterated arrogance in the fishman's voice was staggering. Mario, holding his stance against Hatchan, felt a cold clarity cut through the adrenaline. Arlong is really racist. If you think about it. It wasn't just cruelty; it was a deep-seated, institutional belief in his own superiority. This wasn't just a fight over a village; it was a clash of ideologies.
„As if Arlong has time to fight against you! A mere beast is enough!" Hatchan, puffing out his cheeks, blew his lips like a grotesque horn. The signal echoed over the water.
From the cove, the surface boiled. A massive shape emerged, dripping water and casting a colossal shadow over the entire park. It was Mohmoo, Arlong's sea cow, a creature of sheer, terrifying bulk. The villagers outside the fence gasped and recoiled, their newfound hope instantly threatened by this leviathan.
But when the water streamed from its body, revealing it fully, something was off. The beast, while imposing, had a fresh, sizable lump swelling on its head. Its eyes, wide and panicked, scanned the park until they landed on a single figure.
„This guy again?" Sanji muttered, exhaling a plume of smoke with a sigh.
Mohmoo didn't roar. It let out a terrified, high-pitched whimper and began to backpedal in the water, creating small waves that lapped at the shore. Its fear was palpable.
Arlong's expression darkened, a vein throbbing on his temple. „Mohmoo," he said, his voice dropping to a lethally cold tone. „Do you think of running away?"
The effect was instantaneous. Fear of its master overriding its terror of the Straw Hat, Mohmoo turned back with a desperate bellow and launched a clumsy, frantic charge directly towards Luffy, who had been watching the proceedings with intense focus.
"Oh no," Mario thought, his duel with Hatchan momentarily forgotten. "Luffy's going to get stuck." The memory of their chaotic voyage, and Luffy's particular brand of problem-solving, flashed in his mind.
But it was too late. As the massive sea cow bore down on him, Luffy simply stomped his feet, cracking the concrete beneath his sandals. Instead of dodging, he planted himself, his rubbery arms shooting out to wrap around the charging beast. He didn't try to stop it; he redirected it.
"Stop him! He's a devil fruit user!" cried a fishman, but the warning was useless.
Luffy's body stretched and twisted, using Mohmoo's own momentum against it. „Gomu Gomu no…" he yelled, a wide, exhilarated grin splitting his face, „PINWHEEL!"
And chaos ensued.
The world became a blur of motion. The colossal sea cow became a living, screaming wrecking ball. Luffy spun, and the entire park was swept into the vortex. Fishmen who had been regrouping were sent flying. What remained of the map room's walls were pulverized. Debris, seawater, and screaming pirates filled the air in a maelstrom of destruction.
Zoro, Sanji, Usopp, and Mario—allies and enemies alike—scattered for their lives. There was no blocking this. Mario dove behind a chunk of shattered foundation, feeling the wind of the passing beast tear at his clothes. He peered over the edge, watching the spectacle with a mixture of horror and awe. This was the power of their captain. It was insane, uncontrollable, and utterly effective. The playing field had been brutally, and literally, cleared.
After seeing the aftermath, Mario also saw the problem. The whirlwind of destruction had left a vacuum of calm, and in the center of it, stuck up to his knees in the cracked earth, was Luffy. Again.
„Good. Good." Arlong's voice dripped with venomous satisfaction as he strode forward, his saw-toothed sword, Kisame, glinting in the sun. „I was planning to kill you myself, rubber fool…"
But before Arlong could take more than two steps, his three top officers moved as one, stepping into his path. Hatchan, Chu, and Kuroobi formed a determined line between their captain and the stuck pirate.
„Please, Arlong," Kuroobi said, his voice a low, respectful rumble. He gestured at the devastation around them—the shattered map room, the cratered ground, the unconscious fishmen strewn about. „If you step up now, the Arlong Park will be completely destroyed. This is our failure. Allow us to rectify it."
Arlong's eyes narrowed, but he gave a curt, approving nod. This was a matter of honor for his crew.
The officers turned, their focus sharpening on the vulnerable Straw Hats. „Take this! TAKO-HACHI BLACK!" Hatchan bellowed, inflating his cheeks and spewing a thick, blinding cloud of ink towards the group.
Zoro, Sanji, and Mario reacted instantly, leaping clear of the oily darkness. But Luffy, trapped and unable to move, could only yell in frustration as the ink completely coated him, leaving him blind and sputtering.
„Finish them off!" Kuroobi commanded.
Seeing the perfect opportunity, Hatchan grunted and lifted a massive slab of broken foundation over his head, his six arms straining with the effort. He loomed over the helpless Luffy. „Say goodbye, human!"
„Luffy!" Usopp cried, scrambling forward and desperately tugging at Luffy's arms, trying to pull him free, but it was like trying to uproot a tree.
Mario didn't hesitate. He wasn't a blur of light, but he pushed his limits. He remembered the principles of Soru—kicking the ground at an incredible rate. His version was a crude, powerful burst of speed, more of a explosive tackle than a true high-speed movement. But it was enough. He shot forward, shoulder-checking Hatchan's massive side just as the slab began its descent.
„UGH!" The six-armed fishman grunted in surprise, stumbling sideways. The stone slab slipped from his grasp and crashed to the ground inches from Luffy, kicking up a cloud of dust.
Hatchan whirled, his face a mask of fury. „Where did you come from, you pest?!" In a flash, all six of his swords were drawn, each one gleaming with deadly intent. He lunged at Mario, the blades forming an inescapable cage of steel.
Mario's eyes widened, his own rudimentary skills almost useless against such a flurry. But the strike never landed.
SHING!
A single sword, Wado Ichimonji, intercepted the center of Hatchan's attack, holding all six of the fishman's blades at bay with an impossible, effortless strength. Zoro stood beside Mario, his one eye fixed on Hatchan, a smirk playing on his lips.
„Awesome," Mario thought, a wave of relief and fierce camaraderie washing over him. He wasn't fighting alone.
Zoro didn't even glance at Mario. „You're getting in the way of my fight," he growled, pushing Hatchan back. „Your opponent is me." He then added, almost as an afterthought, but with a tone of clear approval, „Go help the long-nose get the idiot out of the ground."