The remainder of the voyage to the other side of the island passed in a strange, unspoken truce between Mario and Ace. Mario didn't seek him out, and Ace, while maintaining his cheerful, boisterous facade with the rest of the crew, kept a subtle distance. The glances he cast Mario's way were no longer merely curious; they were contemplative, weighted with the memory of that suffocating pressure and the stark warning about Blackbeard. It wasn't fear that kept him away, but the sobering process of seriously considering words he would have otherwise dismissed.
Mario, in turn, poured every spare moment into training. The encounter had lit a fire under him. He drilled the CP9 techniques until they were as natural as breathing, and meditated on his Haki, seeking to master the terrifying power he had only just begun to unleash. His progress was not just steady; it was explosive, a vertical ascent in power that was frankly frightening.
He felt it in the flow of his movements, in the effortless sharpness of his Hand-Rankyaku, in the solid, unyielding density of his Tekkai. Zorro felt it during their spars, his usual grunts of effort becoming sharper, his eyes narrowing with renewed focus as he was forced to adapt to Mario's suddenly heightened speed and power. Sanji felt it too, the quartermaster's kicks and Soru-enhanced footwork now carrying a weight and precision that demanded his full attention.
But the most surprised was Mario himself. During a particularly intense session with Zorro, a chilling realization dawned on him: he was holding back. A lot. The instinct to win, to push his limits, was there, but a deeper instinct warned him that unleashing his full, current strength could lead to serious injury for his crewmates. Even Ace, watching from the sidelines with a casual air that didn't quite hide his sharp observation, raised an eyebrow at the sheer, controlled ferocity Mario displayed.
After one such grueling session, Mario sat beneath the tangerine trees, his body thrumming with spent energy. As he felt the power circulating within him, another, more profound realization settled in. This body he inhabited was not just strong; it was insanely compatible with the advanced combat systems of this world. The CP9 techniques, which should have taken years of brutal conditioning to master, felt like they were slotting into place as if rediscovering a native language. His Haki, once a faint ember, now burned with a steady, controllable flame. Nothing felt like a burden anymore.
He flexed his hands, studying them as if seeing them for the first time. The sheer coincidence was staggering. Who was this man before? He had no clues. Found adrift in the ocean with nothing, no identification, no log pose, no past. In the initial shock of transmigration, he'd never stopped to question it, too consumed by survival and the wonder of his new reality. There had been no rush of foreign memories, no headache, no identity crisis. It was just… a blank slate. A perfectly tuned, incredibly powerful blank slate.
His thoughts turned to his recovery from the arrows on Drum Island. While serious, the healing had been absurdly fast. He'd initially chalked it up to "anime logic," but Luffy, for all his rubbery resilience, still bore the scars of his battles. Mario's wounds closed with an almost supernatural efficiency, needing only ample food as fuel. This world was as real as his last, with its own laws of physics and biology, yet his body seemed to operate on an entirely different, enhanced level.
The initial struggles he'd faced now seemed like a system booting up, calibrating to its new user. The adaptability of this vessel was absurd, far beyond human norms. A quiet, unsettling question, one he had been too busy to entertain, finally surfaced in the quiet of the grove: was this random chance, or was there a purpose behind this perfect, empty vessel he now called his own?
Mario shook his head, physically dispelling the line of thought. There was no point in agonizing over a mystery with no leads. If the answers to his origin lay in the East Blue, they were out of reach for the foreseeable future. If they were here, in the Grand Line, perhaps some clue would surface—a face that recognized him, a record in some forgotten archive. But the chance was infinitesimally small. For now, the only thing that truly mattered was the crew around him. Protecting them, ensuring their survival and happiness, was his paramount objective. Everything else was a distant, unimportant echo.
His focus sharpened, returning to the immediate future: the battle for Alabasta. He ran through scenarios, contingencies, and the roles each crewmate would play. After careful consideration, a final, decisive plan crystallized in his mind. He knew exactly what he had to do.
After a full day's sail, the Going Merry gently docked on the opposite side of the island, the gateway to the desert and their path to Yuba and Rainbase.
"Well, this is as far as I go with you guys," Ace announced, a hint of genuine regret in his voice. "I need to continue my journey."
"Shame you can't stay longer," Luffy said, his grin slightly subdued.
"Can't. You have your task to fulfill, and so do I," Ace replied, his tone firm with purpose. He then turned to the entire crew and offered a deep, respectful bow. "Thank you for everything. For the food, the company… for looking after my brother."
One by one, the crew said their goodbyes, each farewell warm and heartfelt. Mario was the last to approach. He placed a firm hand on Ace's shoulder, his expression uncharacteristically solemn.
"Take care, Ace," Mario said, his voice low. "And remember what I told you…."
Ace met his gaze. The initial shock and confusion had faded, replaced by a thoughtful, sober acceptance. He saw not a threat in Mario's eyes, but a profound, almost weary concern. He gave a single, firm nod.
"Thank you… I will," he said, and this time, the words carried the weight of a genuine promise.
"Oh, and Luffy," Ace added, pulling a small, intricately folded piece of paper from his pocket. "Take this. It's a Vivre Card. It's a magical piece of paper made from my own life force. No matter where you are in the world, it will always lead you to me."
"Thank you, Ace! I'll keep it safe!" Luffy declared, clutching the paper.
"Nami, can you put this somewhere I won't lose it?" Luffy asked, handing it over.
"I'll sew it right into the lining of your straw hat," Nami assured him. "That way, it will always be with you."
"Well, that's that," Ace said, a final, brilliant smile gracing his features. "Again, thank you, and take care!" With a powerful leap, he landed on his small boat. Flames roared to life, propelling him away from the Merry and into the horizon. But before he vanished from sight, Mario saw him cast one last glance back, offering a final, acknowledging nod directly to him.
As soon as Ace was gone, Mario turned to Nami.
"Nami, can you give me a piece of that paper? Just a small one, split from the middle, will be enough."
Nami looked up, surprised. "Huh? You want a piece too? Why?"
"Don't worry, splitting it won't lessen its magic," Mario reassured her. "It's… something for Ace. A precaution. Don't worry about the details."
Nami studied his face for a moment, then simply nodded. "Sure. I'll split it and sew your piece up, too. It'll just take a moment."
She didn't press further, trusting his judgment implicitly. Mario watched as she carefully tore the Vivre Card, a small, secret lifeline now in his possession—a tangible connection to a fate he was determined to alter.
***
The crew stood assembled at the edge of the vast, shimmering desert, the heat already beginning to warp the air. Supplies were secured, canteens were full, and a grim determination had settled over them.
"Wait," Mario's voice cut through the quiet preparations. He turned to face the group, his expression resolute. "You guys need to go to Yuba. I will be heading towards the capital, Alubarna."
A wave of confusion swept through them.
"What are you talking about, Mario?" Luffy asked, his head tilted.
"We need to split up," Mario stated calmly.
"Why should we?" Nami challenged, a flicker of worry in her eyes.
"We're operating blind," Mario explained, his voice laced with strategic certainty. "We don't know what phase Crocodile's conspiracy is in, or if his plan has accelerated. What if something goes wrong with your path? What if you're delayed? A single point of failure is a massive risk."
He let the question hang in the heated air before continuing. "The best tactical approach is to attack this problem from two sides."
"I will go to the capital," he declared. "My goal is to find the revolutionary army and their leader. If I can talk to him, make him see that Crocodile is manipulating his cause, he might listen. He could call off the rebellion from the inside. After that, I'll go to the palace and meet your father, Vivi. I'll warn him directly about Crocodile's treachery." He looked at the princess. "This way, we create a safety net. If your path fails, ours might succeed in stopping the war before it ever reaches the capital."
The crew fell into a thoughtful silence, weighing his words. The logic was sound, but the danger was palpable.
"And you want to go alone? That's too dangerous!" Nami insisted, her protective instincts flaring.
Vivi, however, was seriously considering the plan, her brow furrowed in concentration. "He doesn't have to go alone," she murmured.
Mario nodded. "Exactly. Chopper and Usopp can come with me. And Karoo can guide us and lend his speed when we need to meet your father."
"Quack!" Karoo stood at attention, puffing out his chest.
"Well... that's not a bad plan," Usopp conceded, the idea of a (slightly) less dangerous mission appealing to him.
"I would love to see the capital!" Chopper exclaimed, his eyes sparkling with excitement.
Vivi finally nodded, a look of grim hope on her face. "That is not a bad idea. If something unexpected happens on our end, you could be our only chance to stop it."
"Ok. Then it's decided," Luffy declared, his signature grin returning, full of confidence in his crew. "Go get 'em, Mario!"
As Mario, Usopp, and Chopper finished packing their separate supplies, Mario approached Nami.
"Will you be alright?" she asked, her voice barely a whisper.
"Of course I will," he replied, his confidence unwavering.
Seeing that stubborn set to his jaw, Nami sighed, a mixture of exasperation and deep affection. Then, before he could react, she stepped forward, threw her arms around his neck, and kissed him. It wasn't a fleeting peck, but a soft, heartfelt kiss that spoke of worry, care, and a promise.
The reaction from the crew was immediate and dramatic. Usopp let out a low whistle. Chopper covered his eyes with his hooves, peeking through the gaps. Sanji collapsed to his knees with a theatrical cry, clutching his chest as if shot. Zorro simply grunted, entirely uninterested. Vivi brought her hands to her mouth, her eyes wide with surprise.
When they parted, Nami's face was flushed, but her gaze was steady. "Come back to me..." she whispered, the words meant for him alone.
"I will," Mario vowed, his voice thick with affection.
"Unhurt?" she added, the blush deepening.
Mario smiled, a genuine, warm expression, and leaned in to give her one more, softer kiss. "I promise."
With that final vow, they parted. Mario shouldered his pack, and with Usopp, Chopper, and Karoo at his side, he turned and led his small team into the vast, unforgiving expanse of the desert, their path diverging from the main group as they embarked on their own crucial, clandestine mission.