„Ah, it's you again," Luffy said, his head tilted in simple recognition, completely devoid of the panic gripping the rest of his crew.
„What are you doing here?" Zorro snarled, his swords already drawn and gleaming in the sun.
„Are you here to avenge Baroque Works?" Nami asked, her voice trembling with horror.
„Who is this lovely lady?" Sanji swooned, hearts replacing his eyes instantly.
„DANGER! DANGER! DANGER!" Usopp screamed into a megaphone he'd produced from nowhere, scrambling behind the mast.
The deck was in utter chaos, a perfect snapshot of the Straw Hats' reactive nature. All the while, Nico Robin strolled calmly towards the center of the deck, an oasis of serene composure amidst the storm.
Mario simply watched, a quiet sense of relief washing over him. She was here. The story was, in its own chaotic way, back on track.
„Don't point those dirty weapons at me," Robin chided gently. In an instant, a flurry of arms blossomed from Usopp's shoulders, forcing him to drop his slingshot, while another set gracefully disarmed Zoro, his swords clattering to the deck before the arms vanished. The crew could only stare, shocked into a momentary silence by her casual display of the devil fruit power and her sheer audacity.
„I'm here," she continued, her voice a low, captivating murmur, „because that guy over there did something unspeakable to me." She pointed a single, elegant finger directly at Mario.
„Please don't say things that may be misunderstood," Mario said with a weary sigh, already feeling the heat of Nami's death glare boring into the side of his head.
„What did you do to this beautiful lady, Mario?!" Sanji was now fuming, a dark aura radiating from him as he rounded on his crewmate.
Robin's lips curled into a faint, mysterious smile. „He did something very bad."
Mario just pinched the bridge of his nose. „Just get on with it."
„What is it? Tell me! I'll end him!" Sanji snarled, ready to launch a kick.
Robin paused, letting the tension build to a breaking point before she delivered her line with devastating softness.
„He gave me hope."
A stunned silence fell over the Going Merry. The word hung in the salt-tinged air, so profound and unexpected that it completely disarmed them. Usopp's jaw was slack. Nami's glare had softened into pure confusion. Sanji was frozen mid-snarl.
„So now…" Robin said, gracefully seating herself on a nearby crate as if it were a throne, „Let me join your crew."
"WHAT?!"
The unified scream from the crew was so loud it startled the seagulls circling overhead. Mario, however, just laughed. This was a conversation between their captain and the archaeologist; his presence was unnecessary. While the others erupted into a fresh wave of panic, questions, and Sanji's enthusiastic approval, Mario quietly slipped away into the relative peace of the cabin.
He could hear the muffled chaos from the deck—Usopp's dramatic proclamations, Nami's worried queries, and Sanji's fervent declarations that such a lovely lady should be welcomed with open arms.
He smiled to himself, listening as the initial shock began to settle into a wary, curious acceptance. Soon, the sounds shifted. He heard Nami counting through the jewels from Crocodile, the familiar clink of treasure putting her at ease. The rich aroma of Sanji brewing coffee wafted down, a peace offering for their new guest. Most telling were the gasps of amazement from Chopper and Usopp as Robin demonstrated her Devil Fruit powers, creating a cascade of waving hands that danced in the air.
She will do nicely in the group, Mario thought with certainty. She was a puzzle they needed, and they, in their own chaotic way, were the sanctuary she was seeking.
But his own path was now clear. Leaving the sounds of his crew's new beginning behind, Mario sat at the small table and unrolled a well-worn map of the Grand Line. His finger traced the turbulent, unpredictable currents until it landed on a specific dot. His destination was set. If his theory was correct, if the brand on his back and the unnatural abilities of this body were connected to the world's greatest scientist, then there was only one place to start.
He needed to get to the closest island where he knew traces of Vegapunk's work could be found. A place that was both a testament to his genius and a relic of his past.
And that is… Karakuri Island.
First, Jaya.
The crew's immediate goal was the Knock-Up Stream to reach the sky island, Skypeia. That was their adventure, one of gold and glory. He would sail with them that far. From the bustling, lawless port of Jaya, he could secure a separate ship and a navigator willing to brave a shorter, less-traveled route.
His destination from there was clear: Karakuri Island. The birthplace of Vegapunk. It was a long shot—the doctor had long since departed for the service of the World Government—but it was the only tangible lead he had.
Ruins, old labs, local legends... something on that island had to hold a clue about Project V.P.1337. He would turn every stone, search every forgotten facility. He needed to understand what had been done to this body, why he was here, and what the "1337" represented. Was it a model number? A batch? The very thought sent a chill down his spine.
Then, the rendezvous. If his timing was precise, he could conclude his investigation on Karakuri and make his way to the Long Ring Long Land islands. It was a bizarre, out-of-the-way chain, the perfect place to lay low and wait. According to the log pose, it was the next logical stop after Skypeia. He could meet the Straw Hats there, hopefully with answers in hand, and rejoin their journey.
But the Long Ring Islands held a darker, more pressing objective. His knowledge of the future was a heavy burden. If the timeline held true, Admiral Aokini would arrive there. The thought of that absolute, merciless justice being unleashed on his friends was unacceptable. His jaw tightened. He would be there as a safeguard. He wouldn't let things go too far. He would stop Akainu, if it came to that.
Why did Mario want to go at this particular point in time? The reason was one he was almost ashamed to admit, even to himself. It was a sentiment born from his past life, from consuming these events as a story: he genuinely disliked the Skypeia Arc.
For him, it had always been the weakest link in the epic saga. Isolated from the main narrative of the World Government, Warlords, and the escalating pirate scene, it felt... tangential.
A self-contained fantasy adventure that, while imaginative, lacked the gritty political stakes and emotional punch of Alabasta or the visceral crew-building of what came before.
And Enel? Mario scoffed inwardly. Enel was an even worse villain in his estimation—a smug, god-complex lunatic whose overwhelming power was his only defining trait. A logia user with a shockingly low IQ who happened to have stumbled upon one of the most broken Devil Fruit in existence.
In his old world, he'd often grouped the Skypeia and Foxy arcs together in his mind as a prolonged, somewhat frustrating filler sequence—one right after the other—that delayed the "real" story
Now, being here, he knew it wasn't technically filler; the gold, the dials, and the mention of "Noland the Liar" had their importance. But the thought of spending weeks, maybe months, dealing with Enel's delusions and the Shandian tribal conflict felt like a monumental waste of time.
Mario swore if he had to analyze it, the whole Skypeia conflict felt forced and ridiculous. The core of his frustration lay in Enel's motivation, which he found paper-thin. The guy was an absolute nutjob, but not even an interesting one. His plan was to destroy Skypeia simply because he deemed its inhabitants unworthy? It was a cartoonish level of megalomania that felt disconnected from the more nuanced ambitions of other villains.
And the alternative was so obvious! Why not just... talk to the guy? Play along with his god complex for five minutes.
"Oh mighty Enel, your divine presence is too magnificent for this land. Let us, your humble servants, help you realize your glorious destiny!"
They could have helped him complete the Maxim, waved goodbye as he blasted off to his "Fairy Vearth," and saved everyone without a single massive, city-leveling lightning blast. The Skypieans could have even thrown him a farewell party. Problem solved.
But no. Instead, it had to be a massive, destructive battle that nearly wiped out an entire civilization and its history, all because of one man's childish tantrum. The fact that Enel not only survived the entire ordeal but actually succeeded in reaching the moon, where he then stumbled upon an ancient civilization and an army of automated space pirates... it was the kind of twist that felt less like clever writing and more like the author refusing to let a popular character truly lose.
Stupid Mario thought, shaking his head.
Sure, the Straw Hats walked away with a king's ransom in gold, which was the only part of the arc he could genuinely approve of from a practical standpoint. But the cost in logic and narrative cohesion was too high. They could have saved Skypeia in a hundred other, smarter ways. This was why he had no qualms about skipping it. Let Luffy have his punch-fest with a living power grid.
Mario just sighed. And not to mention the Foxy pirates….
With the crew blissfully unaware and preoccupied with their sky-bound ambitions, there was nothing of interest for Mario in the immediate future. The timing was perfect; he could slip away to Karakuri Island without raising alarm or diverting the crew from their own path.
His destination was the birthplace of genius: the island where Dr. Vegapunk had taken his first steps into the realm of the impossible. This was the place where he had established his first true laboratory, a sanctum of science that predated his conscription by the World Government. Mario knew this lab was the house of countless experiments, most of which were never finished, shelved as Vegapunk's boundless intellect leaped to the next great breakthrough. The doctor had treasured this lab and everything inside it; it was a repository of his raw, unfiltered ideas, more valuable to him than any fortune.
That was Mario's gamble. In the dust and silence of that untouched lab, amidst the ghosts of unfinished projects, he might find a ledger, a schematic, or a log entry that referenced "V.P.1337."
It was a fragile hope, but it was the only tangible lead he had. While the Straw Hats fought a god in the sky, he would be digging through the ashes of a different kind of genesis, searching for the origins of his own existence.
A plan was forming in his head, a clean and quiet exit at Jaya. But with it came a cold dread that had nothing to do with Marines or ancient weapons:
The certain, terrifying wrath of Nami.
Just the thought of her reaction made him shudder.
He didn't want to leave them. The very idea felt like a betrayal. These were his friends, his chaotic, ridiculous family. But if he stood on the deck of the Going Merry and announced,
"I need to go to Karakuri Island to investigate my mysterious connection to Dr. Vegapunk," it would unleash a torrent of questions he couldn't answer without revealing his transmigrant knowledge.
Luffy, in his simple, unwavering loyalty, would immediately command a course change. The entire crew would divert for his sake. And he couldn't let that happen.
They needed Skypeia. They needed the trial, the fight against a seemingly invincible Logia user, and the sheer, bewildering wonder of it all. It was a crucible for their growth, especially for Luffy and his newfound understanding of his fruit's potential.
More pragmatically, they desperately needed the gold. The treasure of Shandora was the financial fuel that would power their journey through the escalating dangers of the Grand Line. To deny them that wealth, to let the story stray from the path that would make them strong enough to survive Enies Lobby and beyond… that was a risk he couldn't take.
His own quest for identity was a solitary one. Their journey of growth was a collective one. He had to trust that their paths, though diverging now, would converge again later, stronger for the experiences they'd gained apart.
He would bear Nami's fury and the ache of absence, because their future—the future of the King of the Pirates and his crew—depended on it.