"I'M THE MAN WHO WILL BE KING OF THE PIRATES!"
The declaration ripped through the square like a thunderclap, cutting through panic and chaos, sharp enough to silence even the jeers of Buggy's crew. Every voice died. Every eye turned. And there—on the platform where Gol D. Roger himself had once stood—was Luffy. Bruised, pinned beneath the top half of a pillory, one cheek pressed against the ancient wood, breath coming hard, but smiling. Defiant. Fire in his voice. A storm in his spirit.
Buggy's boot was planted firmly on his back, grinding him into the platform, but the straw hat hadn't fallen. It hung tilted from the side of the pillory, trembling with the wind but still clinging to its owner's legacy.
A muscle jumped in Buggy's jaw.
"What did you say, you brat?" he hissed, bending down closer, his red nose twitching with rage. "You're on his platform, and you dare to spout that?"
Luffy turned his head just enough to flash a lopsided grin, despite the wood biting into his neck. "I'm not scared of you, Buffoon the Clown."
Buggy's eye twitched so hard his entire cheek spasmed. "It's Buggy!Captain Buggy!"
The crowd murmured now, whispers sweeping through like the first wind before a storm. Gol D. Roger's platform. A kid with a straw hat shouting about becoming King. The eerie familiarity, the madness of it all—it was setting in.
And Varin, standing in the street below, locked eyes with Luffy. From beneath the black swirl of clouds and swirling wind
The tension was suffocating—coiled like a spring about to snap, thick with disbelief and memory. The sky churned above them, storm clouds swirling as if the heavens themselves were waiting to see what would come next.
And then—
A low, sudden laugh rolled through the crowd.
Not mocking. Not cruel.
A deep, genuine, startled laugh—like something old and frozen had just cracked down the middle and let the sun in.
It came from Varin.
Heads turned. Even some of Buggy's crew flinched at the sound, as if it had weight behind it. Real weight.
Varin stood with his head tilted back slightly, silver eyes gleaming beneath the low clouds, his broad shoulders shaking from the sudden, unrestrained laugh that rose from his chest. His sharp teeth bared, fangs catching the light. It wasn't the laugh of a man amused—it was the laugh of a man revived.
The man on the gallows, daring death itself to strike him down in front of the whole world?
It was insane.
It was idiotic.
It was perfect.
Varin wiped a hand across his mouth as the laughter ebbed into a grin—something wild, full of heat, and half-feral. The kind of grin that bared both soul and threat. The kind that said "I've seen monsters, I've walked with them—and now I see one worth following."
Buggy turned, eyes narrowing at the sound. "Who the hell are you supposed to be!?"
Varin took a step forward, boots cracking the stone beneath him from the sheer weight of his presence. No one in the square moved to stop him. Even the crowd had fallen strangely quiet again, caught between fear and awe.
He didn't raise his voice. He didn't need to.
"That idiot," Varin said, his eyes never leaving the man pinned beneath the pillory, "just declared war on the world."
He paused.
"And I'll be damned if I miss the first shot."
The wind surged again, tugging at his wild black hair, his bare chest streaked with pale scars, the weight of the moment sinking into his bones. That defiance—that conviction-was a fire Varin hadn't felt in years. But now, standing at the edge of a storm?
His blood burned.
Under Buggy, Luffy's smile widened, the corner of his mouth twitching up with barely-contained joy.
Luffy's eyes—shaded beneath the lip of his hat, one cheek pressed tight to the splintered wood—met Varin's through the rising wind and the quiet tension that held the crowd like a noose.
And then he grinned.
Not just a smile, not just joy.
A grin. That same impossible, sun-bright grin that Varin had seen on him the moment they'd met. The kind of grin that refused to break, even under stone and iron and the weight of the world.
"I got it, Varin," Luffy said, voice clear despite the wood biting into his cheek. "Don't help me."
Varin blinked.
"Seriously," Luffy continued, even as Buggy snarled something unintelligible above him. "I'm the one standing here—well, lying. I got myself into this mess."
Buggy's boot pressed down harder.
But Luffy didn't stop.
"That guy up there," he jerked his chin toward the sky above, "he smiled too, right? At the end?"
Varin said nothing—but his eyes narrowed, the grin slowly fading into something far older. Deeper. Respect.
"Then I'm gonna smile too," Luffy said, almost softly. "No matter what happens."
Varin stared at him—really stared, feeling the weight of what this kid was choosing to carry, without fear. He exhaled slowly through his nose, the storm-touched heat in his blood simmering but held back, not quenched.
"…You're insane," Varin said, the words like distant thunder. "But fine."
He took a slow step back. "Let it be your moment."
Buggy growled and threw his arms wide, his cape flaring behind him. "Enough with the drama! This is MY moment!"
Varin's smirk returned, fanged and ready. He folded his arms. "Then make it count, clown."
The storm overhead cracked with the first low rumble of thunder.
And Varin—despite the fire in his bones, despite the thrill in his chest—waited.
Watched.
Because this wasn't his battle.
Not yet.
A sudden shout split the chaos like a whipcrack.
"STOP THE EXECUTION!"
It came like thunder—fierce, raw, full of heat—and was followed instantly by movement as two figures tore through the crowd, scattering pirates and civilians alike with the sheer force of their presence.
Zoro moved first, a flash of steel in each hand, his third sword already clenched between his teeth. His coat flared behind him, and his stride was pure, lethal momentum. There was no hesitation, no mercy—just blades drawn and a mission carved in stone behind his narrowed eyes. The crowd barely had time to part before he slammed into Buggy's men like a storm breaking against a brittle dock. Steel screamed, sparks flew, and bodies reeled from the sudden fury.
Beside him—half a heartbeat behind—Sanji exploded into motion, his legs a blur of deadly grace. His long coat snapped in the wind as he launched into a spinning kick that sent a pirate flying into a market stall with a crash. Another came from his left—he ducked, pivoted, and drove his heel into the man's jaw with a crack loud enough to silence the breath of those watching. Every movement was honed, elegant, and merciless, each step forged from the resolve that no one touched their captain while he still drew breath.
"Back off, you circus rejects!" Sanji snarled, already flipping midair into another strike.
Zoro didn't speak—he never needed to—but his eyes locked onto the platform above, the sight of Luffy trapped in the pillory igniting something beneath the surface. His grip on the hilts tightened until his knuckles went white.
"Get away from him!" Sanji shouted again as he carved a path toward the base of the gallows. His hair plastered to his face with sweat and rain, but his movements never faltered. "You're gonna regret ever laying a finger on our captain!"
Buggy's crew staggered, caught off guard not just by the assault but by the sheer conviction behind it. This wasn't a rescue—it was a declaration. These two weren't just swords and kicks. They were storm and fire, fury and devotion given shape and purpose.
High above, Luffy grunted, his voice gaining clarity: "Heh—wait… something feels weird." Panic, tiny and momentary, surfaced in his eyes. "That pillory! It's… blocking me!"
Luffy struggled, muscles flexing against the wood. "My Devil Fruit… I can't stretch! I'm stuck!"
"Varin, uh…help now. Oopsie."
The square's cacophony paused around him. Zoro deflected an incoming strike, then glanced up. "Get down here you rubber moron!" he shouted.
Sanji kicked a cretin back, then also stared upward. "Mossheads, right for once. Get the hell down here and help us kick their asses!"
Varin moved then, not rushing mindlessly, but with purpose. His fanged grin darkened the simple act of setting foot into the fray. As the heavens rumbled and the rain began its assault, he stepped between the crew and the trap.
The wind intensified, metal groaned, and Luffy's life hung in the balance. But if anyone could break the trap—and the trap they'd set—it was him.
Varin didn't hesitate—but he didn't rush either. His every step was purposeful, measured, a predator closing ground. The storm bore down around him—rain slashing at his bare chest, thunder rattling the world. The square blurred at the edges, but Varin remained locked on one goal: reach Luffy, break the pillory, and tear this setup apart.
Alvida snarled and swung her massive iron club at him as he closed the gap. The world tilted, slow-motion crack sending shards of stone skittering across the square. Varin sprang—not forward, but up. He vaulted cleanly over her strike; the mace smashed just where his back had been, spraying stone and wood fragments in all directions. He hit the ground running, crouching low to avoid further blows, his boots cutting through puddles like knives.
But even before he crossed the final stretch, Buggy raised his hands with a theatrical flourish, sword drawn and dripping rain. His blade was held high—sleek, cruel, ready to cut short whichever lunatic dared crawl onto the platform—and aimed directly at Varin's heart.
"DIE, MONKEY D—LUFFY!" he roared, voice booming over the howling wind.
At Varin's side, Zoro and Sanji had caught up. Zoro's swords were drawn, his stance rigid and ready. Sanji's heels barely grazed the wet cobblestones, sparks of fury in his eyes. They formed a silent barrier, prepared to fight their way forward.
But in that tense heartbeat, high atop the platform, Luffy's voice rang out—calm, light, even amused:
"Sorry, guys… guess I'm dead. Heh."
He flashed that grin—bright and careless—in the face of the swinging blade.
And as Buggy's sword began its downward arc—
Everything froze.
Thundering rain, howling wind, the weight of history pressing down on Loguetown's stone—and the three men below braced for the crash.
BANG! A bolt of lightning split the sky with blinding brilliance—striking the execution platform directly. The rain-hammered wood shuddered, sparks flew, and in that instant, both Buggy and Luffy were struck by the raw electric power.
The platform groaned and began to collapse beneath them.
Buggy howled, convulsed, his cloak flapping wildly as the blade slipped from his numb fingers. Luffy, pinned in the pillory, took the brunt of the strike—but his body absorbed it like rubber soaking up a drop of water. His arm stretched and flipped, shrugging off the shock. The pillory splintered, the ancient wood cracking under the fury of the storm.
The platform buckled and crashed—sending shards of wood and debris crashing down into the square. A roar erupted from the crowd as lightning—and chaos—met flesh and steel.
When the dust and electrical aftershock settled, one truth stood clear:
Luffy was unharmed. Rain-soaked, pinned in shattered wood, but completely unhurt.
Buggy, on the other hand… lay sprawled across the broken wreckage of the execution platform, smoke curling from his clothes, his limbs twitching erratically as if some cruel puppeteer had dropped the strings mid-performance. His red nose sizzled where the lightning had kissed it, and his once-theatrical cape now smoldered like burnt paper.
A single voice broke the silence.
"…An act of god," Zoro muttered, his tone low and unreadable.
Sanji exhaled sharply beside him, flicking wet hair from his eyes. "That or the world just decided it's not Luffy's time yet."
The square was still.
Completely still.
The kind of stunned quiet that only follows something beyond comprehension. Dozens—no, hundreds—of onlookers, pirates and civilians alike, stood frozen in place. Eyes wide. Mouths half-open. Muscles locked. Their minds were still catching up to what their eyes had just witnessed.
The execution platform—the same one where Gol D. Roger had breathed his last—was a ruin. Splinters and scorched beams scattered across the square. Black smoke curled lazily from the remnants, rising into the torrential downpour.
And from the center of it all, rising out of the rubble like something summoned by madness, was Monkey D. Luffy.
He pushed the cracked remnants of the pillory aside like driftwood, shaking loose splinters from his arms. His shirt was torn, rain dripping from his hair, and soot streaked his cheek, but his face…
His face was lit up with a wide, bright, stupid grin.
He bent down and plucked his hat from the ruins—miraculously intact. The wind tried to snatch it from his fingers, but he slammed it onto his head and tugged it down with a satisfied grunt.
Then he laughed.
"Man," Luffy said, stretching his arms above his head with an audible pop of joints. "I nearly died!"
The square didn't react at first. Then, like a delayed heartbeat, a collective exhale swept through the crowd.
Varin stared at him from below, soaked, scarred, and smiling with something savage curling beneath his eyes. His blood still hummed from the promise of violence, but it was slowly cooling into admiration.
That idiot really did it.
He grinned, just slightly, before muttering under his breath, "You lunatic."
The square burned with noise—cannon smoke, lightning-stung air, and the distant churn of panic—but for one breathless moment, all was still.
Then—
"SEIZE THEM!"
The command cracked through the square like a whip.
Hundreds of Marines flooded in from every direction—down the alleys, over rooftops, bursting through the shattered remains of the platform's support structures like a dam breaking. Rain slicked their coats, rifles gleamed like silver teeth, and sabers hissed from their sheaths. Their boots pounded in synchronized thunder against the cobblestones as they advanced—not in panic, not like Buggy's half-scattered crew—but in disciplined, merciless waves.
Buggy's men, still disoriented by the lightning strike and the collapse of their captain, barely had time to react. Some turned to flee. Others raised weapons out of instinct. The front ranks of Marines crashed into them with shields and batons, turning the square into a melee of mud, smoke, and steel.
One of Buggy's pirates was hurled over a fruit cart and landed hard at Varin's feet with a wet thud, coughing blood and teeth.
A moment later, another body—a Marine this time—was flung head-first into the fountain, unconscious before he hit the water.
Only four figures stood calm at the eye of the storm.
Luffy stood with his arms stretched from the broken pillory, freed just moments ago by Zoro's sword. His straw hat, miraculously, sat firmly on his head, though his hair was soaked and his cheek still red where it had been crushed against the wood.
To his right, Zoro stood with one sword already drawn, his eyes flicking rapidly between flanks of encroaching Marines. Rain ran in rivulets down his face. His grip was iron.
To the left, Sanji adjusted the sleeves of his rain-dampened shirt with deliberate calm, one foot already shifting into a ready stance. A cigarette dangled from his lip, slightly soggy but still smoldering as if in defiance of the storm.
And behind them, Varin took a long breath, arms relaxed but fingers twitching near his sides. His silver eyes gleamed like lanterns in the dark, tracking the flood of soldiers that now formed a tightening ring.
A cannonball from somewhere in the confusion slammed into the base of a nearby building, collapsing half the wall and throwing smoke into the air. It jolted the crew into action.
Zoro broke the silence first. "We're surrounded."
"No shit," Sanji muttered, sidestepping as another pirate was thrown through a street vendor's canopy.
"They're cutting off the side streets too," Varin observed flatly, head tilting as he watched a Marine squad double-time toward the southern road.
Luffy scratched the back of his head. "Huh. Guess we really stirred things up."
Then Zoro's tone sharpened—calm, but urgent. "We need to move. Now."
He pointed down the eastern street, the only one not yet fully choked with bodies. "That alley leads to the docks. If we don't get to the Merry before they tighten the net, we're stuck."
Varin's gaze lingered on the flood of blue uniforms a beat longer before nodding. "We go now, or we don't go at all."
"Good," Zoro grunted, already moving. "I didn't come this far to die in a town square."
Luffy didn't say anything at first. He looked back at the shattered remains of the platform, the very spot where Gol D. Roger met his end. Rain coursed down his face. He adjusted his hat, smiled faintly, and turned after them.
Varin brought up the rear, glancing once more at the chaos behind them. The Marines were clashing hard now with what remained of Buggy's crew—swords, fists, smoke, shouts. One of the taller officers shouted something about reinforcements from the harbor.
There wouldn't be a second chance.
The four of them sprinted toward the alley—Luffy leading the charge, Zoro close behind, Sanji kicking over a barrel to trip a pursuing Marine, and Varin pivoting once to slam his shoulder into an approaching soldier, sending the man flying like a doll into the mud.
Then they disappeared into the narrow street, rain at their backs, hell behind them—and the sea, their only hope, just ahead.
Varin's boots pounded against the wet cobbles as he led the sprint toward the harbor. Zoro and Sanji flanked Luffy, their silhouettes flickering in the lightning-streaked sky. The streets were a gauntlet: Marines in disciplined formation emerged from doorways and corners, blocking exits, cutting off escape routes.
Varin's silver gaze tracked each assailant. He flicked a wrist—claws slashing through a Marine's jacket. The man crumpled with a grunt. Another came in fast—Varin sidestepped, pivoted, and shoved him into a wall. Water pooled beneath their feet, and the squad's advance slowed—just enough.
Zoro's boots skidded slightly as he came to a halt in the middle of the alley. Rain streamed off his bandana, which he'd long since pulled down tight across his brow. Ahead, the other three surged forward—Varin's monstrous stride eating distance like a predator, Sanji weaving between Marines with unrelenting, elegant violence, and Luffy bouncing with a reckless, radiant defiance even as soaked water dragged his sandals low.
But Zoro stayed.
Because the woman blocking their path wasn't just another soldier.
She moved with precision—graceful, almost hesitant. A Marine-issued saber gleamed in her hand, held in a classic defensive guard, but her stance wasn't stiff. It flowed, centered. Trained. Rain slid down strands of cerulean hair, clinging to her face.
"Tashigi," Zoro murmured under his breath. Not loud. Not angry. Just the sound of a name he couldn't forget.
She didn't flinch when he said it.
"Roronoa Zoro," she said, equally quiet beneath the crashing downpour. "I won't let you pass."
Zoro gave a sharp exhale, a humorless chuckle rising from somewhere deep in his chest. "You should've said that before the others got by you."
"I'm not here for them," she said, stepping lightly into his path, blade held level. "I'm here for you."
Her blade came up, slicing forward in a tight arc, sudden and clean. Zoro blocked without thinking, steel ringing against steel as sparks spat out into the rain.
Behind them, Luffy glanced back once over his shoulder. "Zoro!"
"Keep going!" Zoro barked, locking blades with Tashigi and holding her off with a single arm.
Varin didn't even look back. His claws scraped the corner of a stone wall as he pushed himself harder, the thunder above matching his pulse. Sanji growled and kept pace beside him, lips curled around a cigarette that had long gone out in the rain.
Tashigi struck again, this time with more force. Her blade moved like it had purpose—not vengeance, not rage, but belief. Zoro met it head-on, swords crossing with a grunt.
"I told you," she said through clenched teeth, "I won't let you go."
Zoro didn't answer at first. Just pressed in harder, until their faces were inches apart, swords grinding between them.
The clang of clashing swords faded behind them, swallowed by the crash of thunder and the hiss of rain pelting the stone. Varin's ears twitched, catching the last flare of steel-on-steel and Tashigi's cry of effort—but he didn't slow. Not even a glance back.
Sanji, on the other hand, did.
They'd rounded the bend, splashing through ankle-deep water as crates and broken barrels littered the alleyway. At the first cross-street, the group skidded into a tight turn, barely dodging a trio of stunned Marines cowering beneath a broken signpost.
Luffy stumbled slightly, catching himself on a lamppost and glancing behind them. "Zoro…?"
Sanji's jaw tightened around his soggy cigarette. "He stayed back."
Luffy blinked water from his eyes. "Why?"
Varin didn't stop moving, but his voice cut through the rain like a blade. "Personal thing, I think. She didn't seem all that strong, I'd say give him about 30 seconds and he'll follow."
That made Luffy pause. For half a breath, he almost turned. Sanji caught his shoulder.
"He knew what he was doing, idiot. If you turn around now, all of this is for nothing."
Luffy's face twisted with something unreadable—frustration, maybe, or guilt—but it passed. The grin that followed was lopsided, crooked with rain and blood, but it was Luffy all the same.
"Then we'll just have to make it to the Merry," he said, voice crackling with resolve. "So he has something to come back to."
Varin smirked, not quite looking back. "He'll catch up. He's stubborn like that."
The trio pushed forward, boots slapping wet stone, the smell of sea-salt growing stronger with every step. The harbor was close now—closer than the Marines swarming the city, closer than the weight of the platform still burning in the back of Varin's thoughts.
Behind them, steel rang out again. But ahead?
The sea waited.
They raced full tilt down the slick, narrow streets, the howl of pursuit fading behind them, the scent of salt and sea growing stronger with every thunder-struck step. Their hearts pounded, matching the storm's tumult, as the dark silhouette of the harbor appeared ahead.
But before them, standing as an immovable barrier, was a figure cloaked in white.
He stepped forward into their path—the unmistakable presence of a Marine Captain. The flapping of his long coat was the first hint. His posture was rigid, authoritative. The two cigars clamped between his lips glowed faint embers in the nighttime rain.
Luffy skidded to a halt, his chest heaving, hat soaked but eyes bright. "Smoky!" he cried out, voice echoing against stacked barrels and distant waves. "Captain Smoky!"
Varin froze beside him, eyes tracking as the marine captain's coat billowed and gleamed in the lightning's flicker. Broad shoulders, tall and imposing, fresh rain sloughing off pristine white fabric—there was no mistaking it.
The Marine captain didn't say a word. He simply watched, unblinking, his grip tightening on the solid steel of his jitte. Rain traced down his stern face, hard lines etched into his cheek, but his eyes were colder than the storm itself. All resolve, nothing wasted.
Varin's breath hitched. He felt the tug of the sea, the creak of the wood in the storm. He glanced at his crew: Sanji's jaw flexed in silent calculation, and Luffy—defiant, unbowed—stared straight ahead.
Thunder cracked.
The Marine captain took a step forward, boots snapping, the Marines behind him clogging the alley in disciplined silence. The only sound was rain pounding stone, hearts pounding harder, no words needed to fill the void.
Varin's eyes narrowed. Steel met weather. Fate clashed.
No alliances here. No promises. Just the four of them—and the storm's final reckoning.
Smoker's presence was a wall of judgment—loyalty to justice, discipline etched into every bolt.
And Varin… he felt it welled in his chest: the promise of freedom, defiance, and uncharted sea.
Freedom and discipline were about to clash, and Varin could feel his blood begin to boil despite the cold rain battering his large frame.