Mario and the crew were led by Vivi into the huge mansion of King Cobra. The moment they were shown to their quarters, the adrenaline that had sustained them finally evaporated. One by one, they collapsed onto the luxurious beds and soft couches, succumbing to a deep, dreamless sleep almost instantly.
Vivi, with a final, fond look at her slumbering friends, returned to her people to oversee the final details: securing Crocodile and managing the arrival of the Marines. Mario stood by the window, watching the life-giving rain cleanse Alabasta. He wasn't as tired as the others.
As his gaze swept over the sleeping faces of his crewmates—Luffy snoring loudly, Zorro propped against the wall, Usopp tangled in his sheets—a fleeting, profound smile blossomed on his face. His thoughts drifted forward, to the whispers of the next adventure, a place in the sky: Skypeia!
***
„Uooooooh! It's the bath! This is amazing!" Luffy and Usopp yelled in unison.
After a full night's rest, King Cobra and Igaram led them to the royal baths, a sprawling complex of steaming pools and polished stone, a perfect place to cleanse the desert's grit and the battle's fatigue from their bodies.
„Now that is what I'm talking about," Zorro grunted in approval
„Nice," Sanji agreed, his eyes already scanning the architecture for potential... vantage points.
„YEEAAAH!" Usopp and Luffy charged towards the largest pool, only to slip on the wet tile and tumble in with a tremendous splash.
„Are you two idiots?!" Sanji sighed, though a smirk played on his lips.
He then turned to the king with exaggerated politeness. „Say, dear king, where is the women's bath? This isn't, by some wonderful chance, a shared facility, is it?"
„As if anyone would tell you that, you incorrigible cook!" Igaram barked, his perm trembling with indignation.
„It's right over this wall!" King Cobra said with a cheerful, conspiratorial wink.
„YOUR HIGHNESS, YOU TRAITOR!!!" Igaram wailed.
Mario smiled at their antics and shook his head, opting for a quieter pool to soak his weary body. The hot water was a miracle, melting away the deep-seated fatigue from his intense training and the overuse of Soru.
More importantly, it finally washed away the stubborn, gritty stench of their four-day desert trek. The others, predictably, were already forming a wobbly pyramid against the wall, trying to catch a glimpse of the women's bath. Only Chopper and Mario abstained.
Well, Mario felt a small, instinctual urge, but the certain, painful consequences from Nami—both financial and physical—were a powerful deterrent.
„Come on, Chopper, let me wash your back," Mario said, grabbing a bottle of shampoo and working it into the reindeer's soft fur.
„Thank you!" Chopper chirped, trying and failing to hide his pleased grin.
After thoroughly scrubbing Chopper until his fur was glistening and clean, the little doctor insisted, „My turn! Let me help you!"
As Chopper began scrubbing Mario's back, they heard Nami's voice from the other side of the wall, sweet as poisoned honey:
„Happiness Punch… That will be 100,000 Beli for every nosebleed."
„Uaaagh!" A chorus of pained cries followed, and Mario looked over to see the entire peeping squad collapse, bloody noses gushing.
Was he a little jealous? Yes. Yes, he was, and he hated to admit it.
„Oh, you have a tattoo!" Chopper exclaimed, his hooves pausing on Mario's shoulder blade. „It's a shame I can't get one. Because of the fur and all."
Mario froze, the warm water suddenly feeling cold.
„Tattoo?"
„Yeah… but what does it mean? 'V.P.1337'? Is that like a date or something?" Chopper asked innocently. „Does it have some kind of meaning?"
V.P.1337?
Mario's mind went blank, then raced. Why did he have it? What did it mean?
„I'm not paying that!" Usopp declared, climbing into the pool while pinching his nose.
„I definitely am!" Sanji swooned, his nosebleed renewing with fervent passion.
„Hmph, stupid," Zorro grumbled.
„Shishishi! It's tradition to try to peek a bit!" Luffy laughed, completely unashamed.
Soon, they were all gathered together in the huge central pool, the steam rising around them. It was in this moment of shared, peaceful camaraderie that King Cobra, with great solemnity, knelt at the edge of the pool and bowed deeply to them.
„Thank you…." he began, his voice thick with emotion.
„You dirty old man…" everyone chorused in deadpan unison, misinterpreting his bowed head.
„THAT IS NOT WHAT I'M TALKING ABOUT!" Cobra roared, his face turning red.
„Your Highness, a king does not bow!" Igaram panicked.
„What is a king without his clothes?" Cobra replied, gesturing to his own bare torso. „Here, we are all equal. And I am merely showing gratitude to the saviors of our country. Again, thank you." It was a small gesture, but in its humility, it felt grand.
Luffy's answer was simple and sincere, speaking for all of them.
„No problem. Any time."
It was the only response that felt right. Yet, as the others relaxed, Mario's mind remained fixed on the two enigmatic letters and four numbers now permanently etched onto his skin, a mystery from his past suddenly surfacing in the steam of the present.
***
After the bath and a welcome change into fresh, new clothes provided by the palace, the Straw Hats were treated to a grand, celebratory dinner. And it was pure, unadulterated chaos. To say the least.
The epicenter of this storm of consumption was, of course, Luffy. The speed at which he devoured the endless platters emerging from the kitchens could only be described as godly—or monstrous. His rubber arms were a blur, snatching roasted meats from passing servants, draining entire bowls of soup in a single gulp, and even darting across the table to pilfer food directly from his crewmates' plates.
„Damnit Luffy, stop eating my royal-cut meat!" Usopp yelled, frantically trying to shield his plate with his arms.
„Eat faster, eat faster!" Chopper squealed, his own cheeks bulging as he shoveled spaghetti into his mouth, driven by a primal fear of having his meal vanish.
„Hey! Can we get more drinks over here!" Zorro bellowed, already surrounded by an impressive collection of empty bottles.
„How did you prepare this royal grouse? The sear is impeccable," Sanji was asking a flustered but flattered royal chef, momentarily the picture of civility.
„Luffy, if you take one more crumb from my dessert plate, I will charge you one million Beri!" Nami threatened, brandishing her fork like a dagger.
„Luffy, please, try to eat a little slower! You'll choke!" Vivi pleaded, a mix of horror and fond amusement on her face.
Mario simply smiled, leaning back in his chair to take in the glorious bedlam. It was a perfect, chaotic symphony of family.
The Alabastan soldiers and attendants stationed around the hall looked deeply uncomfortable, their formal training utterly unprepared for this whirlwind, but a sharp look from a beaming King Cobra silenced any potential protests.
Mario, without even looking, reached out and delivered a sharp thwack to a rubbery appendage snaking toward the perfectly cooked steak on his own plate.
„Ouch!" Luffy yelped, retracting his arm.
Mario just laughed, a deep, genuine sound of contentment. „Get your own, Captain."
As the initial feeding frenzy subsided, the atmosphere began to shift. With bellies full and the immediate threat of starvation averted, the dinner seamlessly transformed into a true party. The formal orchestra, taking their cue from the king, swapped stately melodies for lively, upbeat tunes. Luffy, with a drumstick in each hand, began an enthusiastic, if rhythmically challenged, dance. Soon, everyone was pulled into the revelry—Usopp and Chopper spinning each other in circles, Sanji gracefully twirling a laughing Vivi, and even Zorro clinking cups with a group of increasingly tipsy royal guards.
The dinner, or better to say the party filled with unrestrained laughs and shared joy, roared on, its energy only fading as the moon climbed high into the desert sky. It ended only deep into the night, leaving behind a room strewn with empty plates, happy exhaustion, and the unshakable bonds of a crew that had saved a kingdom.
***
The palace was silent, save for the distant, rhythmic snoring of Luffy and Usopp. The grand hall, a scene of joyous chaos hours before, now lay in peaceful disarray. But Mario was awake. He stood in the soft light of a small, private bath. His reflection showed a face that was both familiar and foreign, and his focus was locked on the stark, black ink etched into the skin of his shoulder blade.
V.P.1337…
The characters were clean, utilitarian, devoid of artistic flair. They looked less like a chosen tattoo and more like a… stamp. A brand.
As a man from another world, Mario had consumed the tales of One Piece. That knowledge was now his greatest asset and his deepest source of dread. He knew there were no coincidences here.
Numbered tattoos were infamous here, primarily associated with one thing: slaves. Property of the World Nobles. And the initials? The first thing that sprang to his mind, the only thing that fit the cold, mechanical aesthetic of the mark, was Vega Punk.
Could it be?
He knew it was a long shot. A dizzying, terrifyingly long shot. Dr. Vegapunk, the world's greatest scientist, was a figure of myth and immense power. What connection could a transmigrated soul, seemingly dropped into this body at random, possibly have to him?
Yet, a cold, undeniable certainty settled in his gut.
This body he now inhabited was not normal. The unbelievable speed at which he'd mastered the CP9 techniques—a process that should have taken years, compressed into months. The instinctual awakening of Haki. His body's unnerving adaptability and accelerated healing, far beyond any baseline human.
And now, the most damning evidence of all: the ability to read Poneglyphs, a knowledge so forbidden it could trigger a Buster Call.
This wasn't just luck or a transmigration perk. This felt… engineered.
The carefree desire to simply sail with the Straw Hats, to lose himself in their adventures, was now tangled with a deeper, more primal pull.
It was the instinct to uncover the truth of his arrival. He had been so focused on surviving and adapting that he never stopped to ask why or how he was here. This tattoo was a clue, a breadcrumb left by the previous occupant of this body, or perhaps by the very force that placed him here.
He wanted a future with Luffy and the others, to see them achieve their dreams. But he knew, with a chilling clarity, that to truly have a future here, he needed to confront the past of the vessel he called his own. He needed to find out who—or what—V.P.1337 was.
The mystery of his transmigration had just become his most personal and dangerous quest.