The celebratory mood shattered as the Going Merry met the true fury of the sea. The storm wasn't just weather; it was a wall of chaos. Waves like moving mountains lifted the small caravel high into the air before plunging it into deep, terrifying troughs. The wind screamed in a voice that promised destruction.
"THIS IS INSANE!" Usopp wailed, clinging to the mast for dear life. "We're going to die! I'm too young and handsome to be a shipwreck!"
"Shut up and hold the wheel steady!" Nami screamed back, her knuckles white as she fought to keep the ship on course. Her face was a mask of concentration and terror. "The currents are converging here! If we get pulled off course, we'll be smashed against the rocks!"
Reverse Mountain wasn't a mountain one climbed, but one that was ascended by the sea itself. Four colossal currents from the four Blues collided at its base, funneling into a single, roaring waterway that defied gravity, spiraling up the impossibly steep mountain into the clouds.
"FULL SPEED AHEAD!" Luffy yelled, his laughter echoing madly through the gale. He was perched on the figurehead, one hand clutching his straw hat, the other pointing forward. "UP WE GO!"
The ship groaned in protest as it hit the upward current. It was like being caught in a liquid avalanche. Water crashed over the deck, and the sound was deafening—a perpetual, earth-shaking roar.
Mario, Zorro, and Sanji worked in frantic unison, adjusting sails and securing lines. Mario's body, still aching from the fight with Smoker and his training, screamed in protest, but he pushed through, his newfound strength the only thing keeping him from being swept overboard.
"Zorro! The mainsail! Loosen the starboard line!" Sanji barked, his voice cutting through the din.
"On it!" Zorro grunted, muscles straining as he fought the wind-whipped rope.
Mario scrambled to help, his mind racing.
This is even more terrifying than I imagined. The manga could never capture the sheer physical violence of the ascent, the way the ship seemed to be tearing itself apart around them.
Suddenly, the world tilted at a nauseating angle as the Merry was caught in a violent cross-current.
"WE'RE GOING TO CAPSIZE!" Usopp shrieked.
"LUFFY!" Nami screamed.
"GOT IT!" Luffy's arms shot out, stretching to impossible lengths to grab onto rigging and rails, acting as living ropes to steady the careening ship. "SHISHISHI! THIS IS FUN!"
After what felt like an eternity of battling the elements, the pressure in Mario's ears popped. The roaring of the water began to muffle, replaced by the howl of wind at a great altitude. They had reached the summit. For a breathtaking moment, they were suspended at the peak of the world, surrounded by swirling clouds. Below them, the four Blues sprawled out like a map, and ahead, a single, calm channel of water flowed down the other side, leading into a wall of impenetrable, storm-wracked grey.
"The Grand Line," Nami whispered, her voice filled with awe and dread.
And then, they fell.
The descent was a controlled, terrifying plunge. The ship surfed down the colossal waterfall, propelled by the immense force of the water that had carried them up. They shot through the channel at a dizzying speed, the world a blur of rock and spray.
While racing downward, the fog cleared, and suddenly, a sheer black wall filled their entire field of vision.
„WHAT THE HELL! A MOUNTAIN!" Usopp yelled, his voice cracking with panic.
BOUOUUUHHH!
A deep, resonant sound, more felt than heard, vibrated through the ship and into their very bones.
„That's not a mountain!" Nami screamed, her face a mask of pure terror. „That's a whale!"
Laboon. Mario's blood ran cold. He knew the gentle giant was a fixture here, but what catastrophic timing did they have to meet him head-on?
„If we don't do anything, we'll crash!" Zoro shouted, his usual composure broken by the sheer scale of the impending collision.
„Should we fight it?!" Sanji yelled, already poised to kick the impossible.
„Are you insane?!" Nami shrieked back.
„I GOT AN IDEA!" Luffy's voice cut through the panic.
„Oh no…" Mario thought, a cold dread washing over him. But it was too late. Luffy was already a rubbery blur, sprinting towards the ship's cabin.
Mario, along with everyone else, could do nothing but hold on for dear life as the Going Merry hurtled toward the living wall.
„What the hell is he up to!" Nami cried.
BOOM!
The cannon fired. The recoil was violent and unexpected, jerking the Going Merry to a sudden, shuddering halt just meters from Laboon's skin. But the momentum was too great. With a sickening CRACK, the ship's beloved sheep figurehead snapped off and tumbled into the deck.
„Oh god, we almost died just now," Nami breathed, her legs giving way. Laboon's colossal eye, the size of their ship, merely stared, unblinking.
But Mario's relief was short-lived, replaced by a new horror. Luffy was already back on deck, staring at the broken stump where his "special seat" used to be.
„AAAH! My special seat!"
„No, no, no, you crazy captain of mine!" Mario yelled, but it was futile. To the shock and awe of everyone on board, Luffy drew back his fist.
„How dare you destroy my special seat! GOMU GOMU NO… PISTOL!"
The punch landed squarely in the center of Laboon's giant eye.
„THAT IDIOT!" the crew screamed in unison.
BOOOOOUUUOOOOOOHHHHHHH!!!
The bellow was a physical force. The sea itself seemed to recoil. Laboon's massive maw opened, and a whirlpool of suction grabbed the Going Merry. Everyone scrambled, grabbing the railing with all their strength. Mario, exhausted from the training and the ascent, his grip still slick with seawater, was a fraction of a second too slow. His fingers slipped from the wet wood.
„MARIO!!!!"
He heard their unified scream as he fell, tumbling through the air before hitting the churning water with a painful slap. He surfaced, gasping, just in time to see the stern of the Going Merry, along with all his friends, disappear into the dark cavern of the whale's mouth.
Laboon, after swallowing his irritant, gave a final, aggrieved snort and began to swim slowly away, settling in the open water.
Mario, treading water, was first confused, then resigned. He knew this story. He started swimming, his aching muscles protesting, toward the only land in sight: a small, rocky shore dominated by a lone lighthouse.
He crawled onto the stones, collapsing and gasping for air. The sky above was clear. "Well," he muttered to the empty beach, "at least it's not raining anymore."
He wasn't overly worried. The adventure inside Laboon was a bizarre but ultimately safe detour. He even smiled, thinking of the connection between this lonely whale and a certain long-lost musician.
I don't know how long it should take for them to get outside… Maybe one or two days? he thought, wringing out his shirt.
Then, an idea, so obvious it was staggering, struck him.
Wait. Isn't Crocus a former ship doctor for the Roger Pirates???
He facepalmed, the sound echoing in the quiet cove. He had almost forgotten. His eyes drifted back to the lighthouse.
The lighthouse keeper and former doctor for the Pirate King Crocus… There must be something of value inside. Knowledge, at the very least. Something that could make me stronger.
He lingered before the heavy wooden door, a moral battle warring within him. To break in, or not? But curiosity and a desperate need for any advantage won out. He gritted his teeth and turned the handle. The door was unlocked.
Inside was a larger, circular room than he expected, warm and surprisingly cozy. The air smelled of old paper, dried herbs, and salt. Rows of books lined the curved walls, interspersed with strange artifacts, preserved sea creatures, and navigational instruments. Mario stood frozen, his breath catching.
Some of these artifacts… a distinctive spyglass, a faded flag with a familiar jolly Roger tucked in a corner… they were from the ship of Gol D. Roger himself.
Right, Mario thought, his mind reeling. The Straw Hats never came inside. They had no idea they were talking to a living legend.
He forced himself to move, his heart hammering against his ribs. He needed to stay calm. But then his eyes fell on a wooden mannequin in the corner, and his world stopped.
It was a coat. A long captain's coat, colored a faded but still vibrant red, with tarnished gold accents and epaulettes. It was riddled with small, carefully mended holes and a long, faded stain that looked suspiciously like old blood. The fabric was worn thin in places, but its grandeur was undeniable. Mario's legs went weak. He knew, with a certainty that shook his very soul, what he was looking at.
IT WAS HIS COAT!
The world spun. He staggered, grabbing a nearby table for support, his vision tunneling.
It can't be right? To think that HIS coat was here all this time… that I'm standing here, breathing the same air as it…
He squeezed his eyes shut, fighting back the wave of vertigo. No, no, no. Calm down. I need to focus. Find something useful.
He turned his back on the coat, a deliberate, painful act, and went to the other side of the room where the books were kept. He started pulling them out, his hands trembling. He was looking for anything—maps, logs, medical texts. As he pulled a thick, leather-bound volume on marine biology, he felt its weight shift strangely. Six of the books were cleverly glued together, their centers hollowed out to create a hidden compartment.
And inside that space, nestled on a velvet cloth, was…. a Devil Fruit.
HOLY SHIT!
It was real. A swirl of intricate, pale green patterns covered its gourd-like shape. His breathing quickened into ragged gasps.
If I eat this, I can become stronger. I could protect them. I wouldn't be a liability.
He held it in his hands, the weight of potential power immense. He could feel a faint, almost magnetic pull from it.
But something deeper, a primal instinct, screamed in opposition.
It wasn't fear of the sea, but a conviction that this was not his path. That his strength had to be earned, forged by his own will, not granted by a mysterious fruit. He would not trade his future for a shortcut, no matter how tempting.
With a final, longing look, he shook his head. "No," he whispered to the empty room. "This is not for me."
He placed the fruit back into its hiding place, his decision solidifying into resolve.
I hope I made the right choice today.
Most of the remaining books were of a medical nature, but at the far end of the bookcase, a thinner, black-bound notebook, its cover worn and unmarked, caught his eye. It looked more like a personal journal.
With a growing curiosity, he pulled it out and opened it to the first page.
The script was bold and slashing, the ink faded to brown. The first sentence stole the air from his lungs:
„I don't know what number this notebook is and I don't care anymore. I just need to write this because Rayleigh said every captain needs a journal. Which is just stupid."
Mario's eyes widened, almost popping from their sockets. He clutched the book as if it were made of solid gold.
GOL D. ROGER'S JOURNAL?!?!?