Varin added giant crabs to the ever-growing list of things he never would have guessed existed, and definitely never expected to be riding. It was right up there with getting punched through stone walls and surviving sandstorms made by men with god complexes. If he ever made a bucket list, this would be on it. He hated that fact.
They escaped the casino without much trouble after that. Turns out the wax ball was the bastard from Little Garden. Same smug little creep who had put a cannonball-sized dent in Varin's side. Seeing him again brought a very specific itch to Varin's knuckles.
Sanji and Varin had a brief, very one-sided discussion with the man. Coerced was a polite word for it. The key Crocodile dropped turned out to be fake, because of course it was, so they made the wax man produce a real one.
Varin let him live because the man was genuinely pitiful once the confidence drained out of him. Varin made absolutely sure he would not go back to helping Crocodile. That part was easy; the sandman had already thrown Mister Three into an alligator's mouth without hesitation when things went south. Loyalty like that did not need much convincing to break.
Smoker let them go, for now anyway, but Varin knew damned well the man was going to use them to defeat or weaken the crocodile before trying to arrest them at the end. But that was a later problem.
They met Chopper outside the city. He had somehow convinced a giant crab to help them. Vivi called it a mover crab. Varin called it a walking nightmare.
It was massive. Bigger than the Sandora Dragons by a fair margin. Its shell looked like sun-baked stone, legs digging into the sand with every step. According to Chopper, it was just as perverted as Eyelash. Varin stared at the crab for a long moment after hearing that, then decided he did not want any more details.
At least this one let everyone climb on without negotiation. Chopper explained that Eyelash had told the crab about Varin, specifically about Varin's methods. Whatever story was told, it worked. The crab seemed almost eager to help, which somehow made Varin more uncomfortable than if it had tried to eat them.
Varin climbed up onto the shell last, arms crossed, eyes sweeping the horizon. Sand stretched endlessly ahead of them. The mover crab lurched forward, legs digging in, and the city began to shrink behind them. Towers and domes reduced to pale shapes swallowed by dust.
That was when Varin finally spoke. "So," he said, voice steady, carrying easily over the wind. "What're we doin' next?" A few heads turned his way. "Allsunday mentioned somethin' called Operation Utopia," he continued, eyes never leaving the horizon. "And somethin' tells me Crocodile's the type who likes to brag. Real theatrical bastard."
He glanced back at the others, one eye sharp, measuring.
Varin saw Nami open her mouth. Saw the inhale. Whatever she was about to say never made it out. The sand shifted.
He felt it before he saw it, that wrong pressure in the air, that dry pull like the desert itself had decided to lunge. A familiar flash of gold cut through his vision. The hook. Crocodile's hook. Wrapped in a tendril of sand, moving fast, too fast.
"Vivi!" someone shouted.
The hook caught her mid-step and yanked.
Varin moved on instinct. He reached at the same time Luffy did, both of them grabbing her arms, the pull almost tearing her in half for one awful second.
Luffy grinned, wide and fearless like he always did. "Don't die, Varin. That's an order."
Varin barked out a laugh, sharp and breathless. "Try not to, captain."
He heaved, swinging Vivi up and back, tossing her into Luffy's arms. She screamed his name, fingers clawing at empty air.
"Go," Varin said, already turning. "Save this accursed place. I've had enough of Vivi cryin' every two seconds."
The hook was retracting, and Varin grabbed it. The force ripped him clean off the crab, yanking him down into the sand like a rag doll. The world blurred into gold and heat, then he hit hard, boots sinking, knees bending as he absorbed the impact. Sand sprayed around him as he straightened.
Above, the mover crab didn't hesitate; it hadn't even stopped carrying the others with it. The crew's screams faded with distance.
Good.
Varin rolled his shoulder once, feeling grit grind under his skin, then looked up. Crocodile stood ahead of him, sand coiling lazily around his boots. Miss All Sunday was there too, calm as ever, hands folded, eyes unreadable.
Varin exhaled through his nose. "Crocodile. Sunday." He nodded as he'd just run into them at a bar. "You two just can't seem to get enough of little ol' me, can ya?" He flexed his hand once, claws scraping against air. "Not that I'm complainin'," he went on, grin sharp and crooked. "Well. Mostly anyway. Sunday's not the worst thing to look at. Though that scar's a wee bit distractin'."
He waved a hand vaguely. "You know what I mean." The sand stirred. Varin planted his feet. Preparing for an attack.
Crocodile didn't answer right away; he laughed instead. It was low and dry, like sand grinding under stone, and it carried across the dunes with an ease that said he had never once been worried. The hook arm flexed, sand curling tighter around it, responding to his mood more than any conscious command.
"You've got nerve," Crocodile said at last, eyes half lidded as they tracked Varin from head to toe. "Most men beg when they realise who they're standing in front of. You make jokes."
Varin shrugged. "Beggin's never been my strong suit."
"That much is obvious." Crocodile's grin sharpened. "You're not like the others. Not a pirate chasing dreams, not a soldier chasing orders. You walk like someone who expects the world to bend." He took a step forward. The sand followed, rising and rolling like an obedient dog. "I don't tolerate variables," Crocodile continued. "And you, Varin, are a particularly loud one."
Miss All Sunday shifted her gaze slightly toward Varin. She still hadn't moved. Her voice was calm when she spoke, like this was all a lecture she had already read. "He intercepted the operation repeatedly," she said. "Survived encounters that should have killed him. And unlike Straw Hat, he thinks."
Crocodile's eyes flicked to her for a moment, then back. "Exactly," he said. "Which makes you dangerous."
The sand surged. It came at Varin like a living wall, rushing low and fast, trying to swallow his legs, to lock him in place. Crocodile didn't bother with theatrics. He went straight for the kill.
Varin felt the pull immediately. The desert trying to drag him under, grinding at his boots, crawling up his calves. He braced, muscles locking. "Dangerous?" Varin said, teeth bared as he leaned forward into the pressure. "Aye. I get that a lot."
Crocodile clicked his tongue. "Stubborn too." The sand rose higher, coiling around Varin's waist, chest, and arms. It scraped, compressed, and tried to crush. Any normal man would have been buried alive in seconds.
Varin snarled and pulled. The sand tore apart where his arms moved, shredded by raw force. He ripped himself free in a spray of grit and dust, boots skidding as he charged forward instead of back.
That made Crocodile's smile widen. Not with surprise, but with interest. "Well now," he said, voice carrying easily through the storm he'd made. "You really are a problem."
Varin didn't slow. Sand lashed out again, rising in spears and coils meant to skewer, bind, and grind him down by sheer attrition. He barreled through it, claws carving paths through solidifying dunes, shoulders hunched forward like a beast charging a hunter instead of the other way around. Grains scraped his skin raw, filled his mouth, his eyes. He ignored it. He always ignored pain first. Thought about it later.
Crocodile flicked his hook. The sand changed shape mid-rush, hardening, compacting. A wall slammed into Varin's chest, stopping him dead and throwing him back several meters. He skidded across the ground, carving twin trenches with his boots before he caught himself on one knee. He spat sand this time, not blood.
"Right," Varin muttered, rolling his neck once. "That's annoyin'."
Miss All Sunday finally moved. Hands bloomed from the sand behind him, aiming to grab his arms, his throat, his spine. Meant to end it without flair. Varin twisted at the last second. Claws slashing just as the hand disappeared.
He looked over his shoulder at her. "Careful now," he said lightly. "We already established I don't like gettin' grabbed without askin'."
Her expression didn't change, but her eyes sharpened.
Crocodile didn't bother hiding his amusement anymore. "You're fast, Strong, Tough. And stupid enough to fight me in the desert."
Sand surged again, this time from above. A crushing weight, collapsing down like the sky itself had turned against him. Varin crossed his arms and took it head-on. The impact drove him into the ground up to his shins, bones cracking beneath the pressure. His muscles screamed. Veins darkened under his skin. He laughed. It was rough and short and edged with something feral.
"Y'know," Varin said, voice strained but steady, "I've been hit by worse." He pushed. The sand exploded outward, thrown aside in a violent ring that sent Crocodile sliding back a step before he caught himself. That wiped the smile off his face, just for a second.
Varin took the opening. He closed the distance in a blur, claws already swinging. Crocodile twisted, turning his body into sand where the strike should have landed, but Varin adjusted mid swing and slammed his shoulder through the man's chest instead. There was no resistance. Just emptiness. Sand poured around him like water. Then the hook hit.
It caught Varin in the side, ripping through flesh and muscle, lifting him clean off his feet. He roared as he was flung away, crashing hard into a half-buried ruin, causing stone to shatter and dust to billow.
Varin didn't stay down. He tore himself free of the rubble and staggered upright, one hand clamped over the wound. Blood ran freely, dark against the golden sand at his feet. His breathing was heavier now, dragged out and uneven.
Crocodile stood untouched, whole and reforming as if nothing had ever struck him. His coat fluttered lazily in the hot wind.
"Seems your Haki is failing you," Crocodile said calmly. "Impressive, you can use it this early. But that is exactly why you have to die." He flicked his wrist, and an hourglass sailed through the air, landing upright in the sand beside Varin. "Two minutes. That is how long you have to survive. We do have a schedule to keep."
Sand began to fall through the glass. Varin glanced at it once. "Y'know," he said, straightening despite the pain, "I never liked time trials. Family used to do them all the time." He rolled his shoulder, ignoring the wet sound it made. "Unfortunately for you, I got good at them."
He lunged before the last word finished leaving his mouth. The punch was fast and clean. A straight shot aimed for Crocodile's stomach. Varin poured everything into it, focus tightening, Haki flaring instinctively, and then….Nothing.
His fist passed straight through Crocodile's torso like he'd punched smoke. Varin swore and shoved forward instead of pulling back, forcing his arm through the sand body as Crocodile's hook swept in for his head. The blade passed close enough to feel the air split. A moment slower, and he would have been hollowed out.
He twisted out, boots skidding, tearing his arm free as Crocodile reformed behind him.
"You can't beat me in the desert, boy. You couldn't beat me to begin with. A few lucky hits made you cocky," Crocodile said calmly, lifting a hand as a sandstorm rose behind him like it was child's play.
"I gotta disagree with that, mate," Varin replied, standing up straight and brushing sand off his shoulders. He ignored the ache in his arms, ignored the blood leaking down his side. He spread his arms wide, laughing. "This? This is fun. Most fun I've had in eight years or so. So, Cannea, not ruin this for me now, yeah?"
Crocodile didn't respond. The storm only grew louder.
"So," Varin continued, his grin sharp, "since you're tryin' to bury me with half the desert, I s'pose I better up my game." The last words came out as a growl. His body shifted, bones rolling under skin as he took his wolf form. The sand bit at his paws, but he had better traction like this than he ever did in boots. He lunged.
His jaws snapped shut around what should have been Crocodile's torso. Instead, he caught an arm. Then there was blood, which wasn't much, barely a nick, but it mattered.
Varin landed hard, skidding across the sand, snapping his head back up just in time to see Crocodile pull away. A fresh graze marked the man's arm. Blood. Real blood. Crocodile was scowling now.
His Haki didn't come. Wouldn't come. Either he couldn't focus enough, or he'd already burned through what little he had in the casino. So how did the sandman bleed?
Water. Or more likely, liquid in general. Sand clumped when it got wet. It made sense that a man made of sand would do the same. The realization clicked a heartbeat too late.
"Well, time's up, mutt," Crocodile said calmly, right as Varin put it together. "I'd say good luck, but you'll die soon. Long before you ever make it to Alubarna." His body broke apart into sand, the wind carrying him away just as Varin lunged again, jaws snapping shut on nothing.
"I literally asked you not to ruin it for me," Varin shouted after him, skidding to a stop and digging his claws into the ground. "Right as I was gettin' serious too."
He straightened slowly, chest heaving. The desert answered him with silence and wind. "Wait… where'd Sunday go?" Varin said, finally looking around. She'd been there at the start, and he was only just now noticing her absence.
"Over here." Her voice came from behind him.
Varin turned, eyes narrowing. All Sunday stood a short distance away, one hand gripping a man by the collar. The same man Vivi had called Pell, or at least Varin assumed it was. The uniform matched, and he'd never gotten a good look at the man's face before. Hard to do that when the man's spine had just been snapped, and your princess was being used as leverage.
She tossed him to the ground. He hit the sand hard, but he was breathing. Awake and alive. That alone would make Vivi happy.
"Relax," she said calmly, brushing sand from her hand as she walked closer. "Varin, was it? I'm not here to fight. Not you, at least." She stopped a few paces away, posture loose, almost casual "See," she continued, "you might be the only chance I have of getting rid of that brute. So I'll take it. After all, what's better for dealing with a brute than a bigger, meaner brute?"
"That supposed to be an insult, lass?" Varin said, shifting back into his human form. He rolled his shoulders and arms, stretching out the ache, pointedly ignoring the cut in his side. It wasn't deep. Not worth worrying about yet. "'Cause where I'm from, that's a compliment."
He looked her over, eyes sharp. "Besides," he added, "what's to stop me from makin' good on my threat right now?"
All Sunday smiled faintly. "Well," she said, "other than the fact that I'm your only way to reach Alubarna in time to save your beloved princess and crew?"
She shrugged lightly. "Nothing."
"Then get to speakin', and quickly," Varin said, eyes never leaving her. "I've gotta deal with your boss one way or another. You ain't required for that part."
"Simple, really," All Sunday replied. She gestured down at the man in the sand. "This one can fly you. Hopefully. To Alubarna."
Pell shifted weakly, proving the point by struggling to push himself up before giving up with a grunt.
"And in return," she continued smoothly, "I'll give you the antidote to the poison on Crocodile's hook."
Varin went still. The desert wind dragged sand across the ruins between them. He glanced at Pell, then back at her, eyes narrowing just a touch. "Hopefully," he echoed. "That don't inspire confidence."
"He'll manage," she said. "Barely, if needed. Time is your enemy right now, not altitude."
Varin clicked his tongue, then sighed, running a hand through his hair. "Y'know," he said, "any other day I'd say this sounds like a trap."
"And today?" she asked.
"Today," Varin replied, stepping closer, voice low, "I say if you're lyin', I'll still catch Crocodile. And when I'm done with him, I'll come back and make good on every word I promised you earlier. And worse."
Her smile tightened, just a fraction. "Fair," she said.
Varin crouched beside Pell, gripping the man's shoulder. "You hear that, Birdman? You fly fast. If you drop me, I swear I'll haunt you."
Pell managed a strained huff. "I'll… fly."
Varin straightened, cracking his neck, eyes already turned toward the horizon where Alubarna waited. "Alright then," he muttered. "Let's not waste what little time that bastard was kind enough to give me."
They were off quickly. Oddly enough, Varin was easier to carry in his wolf form, his weight spread out instead of hanging awkwardly. He could not stop snickering at the visual. A massive bird hauling a massive wolf through the sky like some kind of living siege weapon. If he wasn't bleeding and racing the clock, he might have enjoyed it more.
"So, Varin," Pell started, wings beating steadily. "How did you meet the princess. And what exactly is your relationship with her?"
There was a tight edge to his voice. Distrust, Varin figured that was fair. He was a stranger, with sharp teeth, blood on his fur, and not exactly the picture of a royal escort.
"We picked her up the moment we hit the Grand Line," Varin said, head resting against the rush of air, eyes half-lidded. "She was still disguised as a Baroque Works agent back then. Real sneaky type. Took a bit before we figured out who she actually was."
He shifted slightly, claws flexing as the wind tore past them. "After that, we sorta got stuck babysittin' her," he continued. "Not that she's useless. Lass has spine when it counts. But gods above, she cries a lot. Always been like that?"
Pell let out a short breath that might have been a laugh. "She carries the weight of a kingdom. Tears come with that."
"Huh," Varin muttered. "Figures."
They flew in silence for a few moments, the desert stretching endlessly below them. Varin's ears twitched, then slowly flattened back.
"For what it's worth," he said, voice lower now, carried away by the wind, "we ain't like Crocodile. We're pirates for freedom, not the murder, rape, pillage type most folk think of. We're idiots, sure. But we're not monsters."
Pell glanced down at him. The blood matted into his fur, the torn patch along his side, the grin that never quite left his face, even while hurt. A creature that looked every bit as dangerous as Crocodile's agents, yet spoke like someone drawing a line he refused to cross. "…I'll hold you to that," Pell said.
They flew on in silence again. Varin didn't realize how much time had passed. The ache in his side dulled into something distant, his breathing steadying as the cold air worked against the dying heat of the desert. His eyes half closed, not asleep, just resting.
By the time he looked down again, the sun was beginning to rise, light spilling over the horizon in pale orange and gold. Below them, a massive ribbon of water cut through the sand. The Sandora River.
Varin's ears perked up immediately. That meant the ship was downstream, or upstream. Didn't really matter. It gave him a rough sense of where he was, and he knew he would lose even that the moment things went sideways.
More time slipped by without him noticing. By the time the sun was nearing its peak, meaning it was almost noon, Varin could see it. Alubarna. The city rose out of the sand, built on a massive stone foundation, walls catching the light. Below, the desert was alive with movement. Thousands of men and women, all armed, riding camels straight toward it.
"The rebels," Pell said, his voice tight with anger.
Varin felt the shake in Pell's arms even through his fur. The man was barely holding together. Flying through the night, through the morning, and injured on top of it all. Varin respected the hell out of that kind of stubbornness.
"When we get in there," Varin started as they passed over the rebel army and angled closer to Alubarna, "tell em the king might be an imposter. Anyone suspicious needs to be put down. Aye? You're better at explainin that than I am…"
He paused, squinting even with his enhanced eyes. They were still high up.
"Is that Vi?"
"It is," Pell answered instantly. His vision was far better than Varin's, being a bird of prey and all.
Varin huffed. "Aye. And she's about to get trampled, ain't she?" Below them, just before the city gates, Vivi and Karoo stood alone against the approaching horde. "I told her," Varin growled, ears flattening back, "everyone survivin ain't nothin more than a fairy tale. Stubborn lass."
Pell let out a humourless laugh. "She's always been like that. Even if it risks her life."
"Aye," Varin said, irritation creeping into his voice, "but if she dies, my navigator's gonna put me so far in debt even a Yonko bounty won't save me." He clicked his tongue, anger sharp now. "Damn girl acts like a bloody child."
Varin leaned forward as best he could, eyes locked on the figure below. "Dive. Drop me next to her. I ain't needed till Crocodile shows himself anyway."
Pell didn't argue. He folded his wings and dove hard, the wind screaming past. A few feet above the sand, he let go.
Varin hit like a dropped boulder, rolling once before digging his claws in and skidding to a stop just in front of Vivi. Sand billowed up around him. Karoo screamed, a sound he seemed to reserve exclusively for Varin, and Vivi yelped right along with him.
Varin rose out of the dust, tail lashing, blood darkening the sand beneath his side.
"You are worse than any person I've ever met," he said roughly, turning on her. "I swear you give Luffy a run for his money when it comes to stupidity."
"Varin?" Vivi blinked, shock giving way to relief as she rushed closer. "You're bleeding. You survived Crocodile."
"No," he snapped, ears pinning back as he rounded on her fully. "Lass, what in the nine realms were you thinkin'?"
He loomed over her, one clawed hand jabbing toward the oncoming army. "We went over this. You do not help a single damn person by gettin yourself killed."
Vivi stiffened, gripping her dress. "I couldn't just stand by. If I don't try, then everyone dies anyway."
"Everyone dies if you do this wrong," Varin shot back. "And this." He gestured around them, at the rebels, the city, the chaos about to collide. "This is wrong."
Karoo shuffled closer to Vivi, wings half spread, glaring up at Varin like he might actually try something.
Varin exhaled sharply through his nose, forcing his voice down from a snarl. "You wanna save your people? Fine. Then listen. You live first. You breathe first. You don't throw yourself under a stampede hopin it'll stop outta guilt."
He crouched slightly, bringing himself closer to her level, eyes burning. "Crocodile wants you dead. That alone should tell you how important you are. So stop actin like you're expendable."
The ground trembled faintly as the rebels drew closer.
Varin straightened, teeth flashing in a grim grin. "Now get behind me, princess. I'll handle the part where they try to crush you."