Chapter 3: Family.

Cocoyashi Village

Nojiko had grown used to the tranquility of Cocoyashi Village, though it was often a fragile peace—a thin veil stretched over the shadow of Arlong's looming threat. The afternoon sun drenched the tangerine groves in a golden hue as she walked home, a basket of freshly picked fruit balanced effortlessly on her hip. The breeze carried the salt tang of the nearby sea, mingling with the sweet aroma of the ripened tangerines. But as she approached her home, something was off.

Muted voices carried through the open window of the house, disrupting the usual quiet. Two distinct male voices, unfamiliar yet undeniably confident, drifted into the grove. Nojiko's steps faltered, her brows furrowing as curiosity warred with caution. Who were these men?

Setting her basket down by the door, she crept closer, her movements practiced and silent. She crouched beneath the window and strained to make out their conversation.

"...She better show up soon." one voice grumbled, deep and slightly gravelly.

"Relax, Marimo. We are not talking about Wano or anything like that . Look at this place, a charming little village, quaint tangerine trees, and all that." The second voice was smoother, playful even, with a trace of amusement.

"Quit calling me Marimo, or I'll cut you down," the first voice snapped.

"You're welcome to try, Marimo."

Nojiko's jaw tightened. These two were not ordinary villagers, nor did they sound like travelers simply passing through. Their banter carried the edge of familiarity, like a blade sharpened over years of camaraderie. But what could they want here?

Her heart quickened as her fingers brushed against the cold steel of her pistol tucked into her waistband—a habit born of necessity. Without a sound, she pushed the door open and stepped inside, her weapon raised in a smooth, practiced motion.

The two men froze mid-conversation, turning to face her. Nojiko's gaze swept over them quickly. The one lounging casually on her kitchen stool wore a tailored black suit, blond hair framing a sharp, angular face. His posture screamed confidence, though the cigarette dangling from his lips added a relaxed, almost roguish flair. The other leaned against the wall, arms crossed over his chest. A head of green unruly hair, and three swords rested at his side.

"What the hell are you doing in my house?" Nojiko demanded, her voice steady despite the hammering of her heart.

The blond raised his hands, palms outward, in a mock gesture of surrender. "Whoa, easy there, miss. No need to get feisty." His smile was infuriatingly nonchalant.

"Answer the question," she snapped, finger tightening slightly on the trigger.

The swordsman, unimpressed by her display, barely moved. His eyes—cold and sharp like a predator's—fixed on her with measured calm. "If we wanted trouble, you'd know by now."

"Not helping, Zoro," the blond muttered before turning back to Nojiko with a dazzling smile. "Forgive my brutish friend here. My name's Sanji, and that's Roronoa Zoro. We're just waiting for someone."

Her mind stumbled over the names. Roronoa Zoro—a name whispered in rumors, tied to a bounty hunter too famous for comfort in this particular island. And Sanji? She didn't know the name, but the way he carried himself suggested he was no ordinary man either.

"Waiting for who?" she asked, her tone laced with suspicion.

"Nami," Zoro said bluntly.

The name hit her like a physical blow, and her grip on the pistol faltered. "Nami? What do you want with her?"

Nojiko's mind raced. These men knew her sister's name—dangerous men who clearly didn't belong here. Panic surged, but she forced it down, swallowing hard. "If you've been tricked by Nami, you're not the first. Take my advice: leave this place before Arlong hears about you."

Sanji and Zoro exchanged a look, unspoken communication passing between them.

"Not happening," Zoro said firmly, stepping away from the wall and closer to her.

Nojiko's pulse spiked, and she raised the gun higher, her voice cold. "I'm serious. If Arlong finds you—"

"We don't care about Arlong," Zoro interrupted, his tone dismissive.

"You should care," she hissed, the steel in her voice returning. "He'll kill you. Both of you."

"Let him try," Zoro said simply, the corner of his mouth twitching upward in a shadow of a smirk.

"Enough!" Sanji said sharply, stepping forward and placing himself between them. His movements were smooth, like a dancer slipping into rhythm. He flashed another disarming grin at Nojiko. "Listen, sweetheart, clearly we've started off on the wrong foot. How about I make us all a nice meal, and we can talk this through? No need for violence."

Nojiko's eyes narrowed. "You want to cook?"

"Best cook in the whole East Blue, at your service," he said with a theatrical bow.

Her finger hovered over the trigger, doubt creeping in despite herself. There was no denying the sincerity in his voice, though she didn't trust it. Still, the idea of sitting down to talk, rather than risking a fight, was tempting.

After a long moment, she lowered the gun, though she didn't relax. "Fine," she said curtly. "But if you try anything—"

"You have my word," Sanji interrupted, his smile unwavering. "Dinner will be worth it, I promise."

Zoro grunted, clearly unimpressed with the turn of events. "Great. Another distraction."

Nojiko ignored him, her eyes still on Sanji. "Kitchen's that way. Let's see if you're as good as you say."

As Sanji moved toward the kitchen, whistling a jaunty tune, Nojiko followed close behind, her hand never straying far from her gun. Meanwhile, Zoro returned to his spot against the wall, muttering something about "idiot cook" under his breath.

For now, the storm brewing beneath Cocoyashi Village held off. But Nojiko couldn't shake the feeling that these men, and their arrival, marked the beginning of something far greater—and far more dangerous—than she could yet imagine.

—

Over the next few days, Nojiko found her carefully maintained routine disrupted in ways she couldn't have anticipated. Sanji and Zoro were like two storm clouds, distinctly different in temperament but equally capable of unsettling her calm. They lingered at her home, uninvited but not unwelcome—an odd contradiction she couldn't quite reconcile.

Sanji, true to his word, proved to be a remarkable cook. Her initial wariness hadn't allowed her to enjoy the first meal he prepared, but by the second evening, she found herself grudgingly impressed. His food was as vibrant as his personality, bursting with flavors that momentarily masked the tension simmering beneath the surface.

He also had a tendency to shower her with exaggerated compliments, which she deflected with dry retorts that only seemed to fuel his enthusiasm.

"Another perfect day blessed by the radiant smile of a goddess," Sanji declared one morning as he handed her a plate of freshly grilled fish.

Nojiko raised a brow, unimpressed. "You've got a real talent for flattery, don't you?"

"A mere reflection of the inspiration before me," Sanji replied, with a flourish of his hand.

Zoro, on the other hand, was an enigma of few words. When he wasn't sparring imaginary opponents in the grove, his swords flashing like streaks of light in the afternoon sun, he spent his time napping in odd places—beneath the tangerine trees, on her porch, even once atop her roof.

His silence was unnerving at first, but Nojiko soon realized it wasn't hostility. He simply preferred action over words, his calm demeanor contrasting sharply with Sanji's relentless energy. Still, his sharp eyes missed nothing, and Nojiko suspected he was far more observant than he let on.

Despite her caution, she couldn't deny their presence brought a strange kind of relief. For the first time in years, her home felt alive with the energy of people who weren't cowed by Arlong's tyranny. But that same energy made her uneasy, as if she were hosting fireworks in a room filled with dry straw.

One afternoon, Nojiko ventured into the village to run errands, leaving the two men to their devices. The marketplace buzzed with subdued activity, the villagers moving with the careful precision of those accustomed to living under a watchful eye.

She exchanged brief pleasantries with Genzo, the former sheriff, who raised a bushy brow at the mention of her unusual houseguests.

"Strangers, eh? That's trouble waiting to happen," he muttered, his weathered face set in a grim frown.

"I'm keeping an eye on them," Nojiko assured him, though the words felt hollow.

—

That evening, as the three of them gathered around the dinner table, Nojiko finally broke the silence that had settled over their meals.

"Why are you really here?" she asked, her voice quiet but firm.

Sanji paused mid-bite, his usual charm momentarily dimmed. Zoro glanced at her, his expression unreadable.

"We told you," Sanji said, his tone unusually serious. "We're looking for Nami."

"But why?" Nojiko pressed. "What could she possibly mean to you?"

"She's our friend," Zoro said simply, his words carrying a weight that silenced further questions.

Nojiko studied them both, searching for any hint of deceit, but found none. There was an unwavering sincerity in their eyes that left her both comforted and deeply unsettled.

"Then you're fools," she said softly, rising from the table. "Nami doesn't need friends. Not in a place like this."

Without waiting for a response, she left the room, the sound of her footsteps echoing down the hallway.

Behind her, the two men exchanged a glance.

—

The heat of the afternoon sun was beginning to wane when a sudden commotion reached Nojiko's ears, pulling her from her thoughts. She had been in the heart of Cocoyashi Village, exchanging quiet words with the grocer, when the sound of shouting and gasps rippled through the air like the rising tide.

The source of the uproar came from the shoreline, and curiosity—mingled with a deep unease—propelled her forward. She followed the gathering crowd to the edge of the village, where the clear waters of the East Blue stretched endlessly into the horizon.

What she saw defied all sense.

A tiny, battered boat bobbed on the waves, its sails long gone and its hull barely intact. Atop it stood a boy, no older than sixteen, balancing on the railing as though he were performing some daredevil stunt. His broad grin stretched from ear to ear, radiating an infectious energy that seemed to challenge the very sea around him.

It wasn't the boy's precarious stance or his disarmingly carefree demeanor that stole Nojiko's breath, though. It was the monstrous Sea King that loomed behind him as it dragged the boat forward like a child's toy.

Gasps and cries erupted from the crowd.

"Is he crazy?!" someone shouted.

"He's going to die!"

But the boy didn't seem concerned. In fact, he looked exhilarated.

Nojiko pushed her way through the onlookers, her mind racing. Could this be the Luffy Sanji and Zoro had mentioned? Surely not. No one could survive being hunted by a Sea King—not without a miracle, though as far she could see the beast was not hunting him, more like pushing him.

The Sea King carried the boy towards the shore, its huge form surging toward the beach. In a blur of movement, the beast seemed to get faster.

"Now Chompy!" the boy shouted, his voice carrying over the waves. He raised his fist, The creature, apparently named Chompy made a final strong push and sent the boat with the boy at an incredible high speed towards the beach.

The Sea King seemingly satisfied with this outcome let out a deafening roar, the force rippling through the water like a thunderclap. With a final thrash of its tail, it disappeared beneath the waves, leaving as the boy and his mangled boat reached the water's edge.

The crowd was stunned into silence.

Nojiko's legs moved on their own, carrying her to the water's edge as the boy walked his way toward the shore. She reached him just as his boat scraped against the sand, and he leapt onto the beach with an ease that belied his ordeal.

"Who the hell are you?" she demanded, her voice sharper than she intended.

The boy turned to her, his grin still firmly in place. He adjusted the tattered straw hat on his head and stuck out a hand as though they were old friends meeting for the first time.

"I'm Monkey D. Luffy!" he said brightly. "And I'm looking for Nami."

Of course he was.

Nojiko hesitated, her gaze flickering between his extended hand and his wide, guileless eyes. There was no malice in him, no hint of the calculation or fear she was so used to seeing in strangers. Just... unshakable confidence.

"Luffy, huh?" she said finally, ignoring his hand. "What do you want with Nami?"

He tilted his head, his grin never faltering. "She's part of my crew. I came to get her so we can set sail again!"

She stared at him, incredulous. "Your crew?"

"Yep!" Luffy said, nodding enthusiastically.

It was impossible to reconcile the absurdity of this boy's presence with the weight of his declaration. If he truly was part of Nami's crew—and if Sanji and Zoro were as well—then her sister was tangled in something far more complicated than Nojiko had realized.

With a resigned sigh, she gestured for him to follow. "Come on. I'll take you to her... sort of."

Luffy's grin widened, if that were even possible, and he trotted after her like an excited puppy.

Back at the house, Zoro and Sanji were lounging on the porch, their usual bickering interrupted by the sight of Nojiko leading Luffy toward them.

Sanji leapt to his feet first, his cigarette falling from his lips. "Luffy!" he cried, rushing forward with arms wide.

Zoro's reaction was more subdued, though the faint smirk that tugged at his lips was as close to a smile as Nojiko had ever seen from him.

"Hey, guys!" Luffy said cheerfully, allowing himself to be crushed in Sanji's enthusiastic embrace as Nojiko filled them with how Luffy had arrived.

"You idiot!" Sanji scolded, though his tone was more relieved than angry. "What kind of entrance was that? You could've been eaten alive!"

"But I wasn't," Luffy said simply, squirming free. "Where's Nami?"

"She's not here yet," Zoro said, stepping forward. His gaze lingered on Luffy's tattered clothes. "But she'll come."

Luffy nodded, his confidence unshaken. "Good. Then we'll deal with Arlong together."

Nojiko stiffened at the mention of Arlong's name. She had avoided bringing it up, not wanting to stir trouble, but it seemed the topic was unavoidable now.

"Deal with Arlong?" she echoed, her voice laced with disbelief. "You're just kids. What can you possibly do against him?"

Luffy turned to her, his expression serious for the first time since he arrived. "We're gonna beat him," he said, his tone as firm as iron.

The certainty in his voice left her speechless.

As the sun dipped lower on the horizon, bathing the village in hues of orange and gold, Nojiko realized she had been wrong about these men. They weren't just reckless fools stumbling into danger. They were something else entirely—something powerful, dangerous, and, against all odds, inspiring.

She just hoped they wouldn't destroy everything in their path.

—

The first rays of morning sunlight crept through the windows of Nojiko's home, casting a warm glow over the modest kitchen. The scent of freshly brewed coffee filled the air as Sanji moved deftly between counters, his movements precise even in the early hour.

Zoro and Luffy sat at the kitchen table, their usual ease replaced by expressions of quiet intensity. Zoro leaned back in his chair, arms crossed, while Luffy stared at his mug of milk, his brow furrowed in uncharacteristic thoughtfulness.

Breaking the silence, Luffy looked up. "We need to figure out what's going on," he said, his tone steady but tinged with urgency. "How did we end up here, and how far back have we gone?"

Zoro shifted slightly, his chair creaking under the movement. "If I had to guess, it's about a year before we all first met. But when I got here, I didn't even know if anyone else had come back. I was just trying to make sense of everything."

Sanji placed a steaming coffee pot on the table before taking his seat, his expression unusually serious. "Same here. For a while, I thought it was just me. Then I ran into moss head on this island and realized something bigger was happening." He lit a cigarette, his gaze darkening. "It's like everything reset."

Luffy's hand gripped his mug tightly, his knuckles whitening. "I tried using Haki," he said, his voice quieter now, tinged with frustration. "But it's not the same. My control's gone—my Armament Haki is almost completely useless."

Sanji exhaled a plume of smoke, nodding. "Yeah. Same for me. My Diable Jambe's weaker too. It's like I've been sent back to square one."

Zoro's jaw tightened as his hand rested on the hilt of one of his swords. "I can't even coat my blades in Haki anymore," he admitted, his tone edged with frustration. "I've tried, but it's like it's out of reach."

The room grew heavy with silence as the weight of their predicament sank in. They were far weaker than they had been before, and the full scope of what that meant remained uncertain.

Finally, Luffy broke the silence, his voice steady and filled with the quiet resolve that had always been his strength. "It doesn't matter how weak we are now," he said, meeting their gaze one by one. "We'll train, and we'll get our strength back. We can't let this stop us."

Zoro's lips curled into a faint smirk as he straightened in his seat. "No point whining about it. We'll just have to fight harder."

Sanji leaned back, a flicker of his usual confidence returning. "And cook better," he added with a small grin.

Their shared determination filled the room, cutting through the lingering tension like a blade. Though the road ahead was uncertain, they were united in their resolve.

As the first hints of laughter began to ripple through their conversation, Nojiko appeared in the doorway, an eyebrow raised. "What's so serious this early in the morning?"

Sanji was the first to react, instantly sliding into his usual routine. "Nojiko-swan! You've graced us with your beauty! Would you like some breakfast? I've prepared a feast worthy of a queen!"

Nojiko rolled her eyes, but a small smile tugged at her lips. "I'll pass. I've got chores to do," she said, grabbing her basket and heading out the door.

As the sound of her footsteps faded, Luffy leaned back in his chair, his usual grin creeping onto his face. "We'll figure this out," he said, more to himself than to the others.

—

The tangerine grove swayed gently in the evening breeze, its sweet, citrusy aroma drifting through the air. The village had settled into its usual uneasy quiet, though the atmosphere around Nojiko's home remained charged with tension. Luffy's sudden arrival had brought a renewed energy to the house, but for Nojiko, it was also a reminder of the storm brewing on the horizon.

As she sat on the porch, absently peeling a tangerine, her thoughts wandered to Nami. It had been days since she'd last seen her sister, though Nojiko was accustomed to Nami's absences. Still, something about this situation felt different. The men inside spoke of Nami not as the thief or the reluctant ally Nojiko knew, but as family.

She didn't know whether to envy them or pity them for that.

The faint crunch of footsteps drew her attention, and she looked up to see a figure emerging from the grove. At first, she thought it might be another stranger—a mercenary, perhaps, or one of Arlong's thugs. But as the figure stepped into the fading sunlight, recognition struck her like a lightning bolt.

"Nami," Nojiko whispered, her voice caught between relief and disbelief.

Her sister's orange hair gleamed in the golden light as she strode toward the house, her expression a mixture of determination and weariness. Nojiko rose to her feet, her heart pounding. She had so many questions, so many things she needed to say, but before she could utter a word, Nami's gaze shifted past her, locking onto the open doorway of the house.

The sound of voices inside stilled as Nami broke into a run, her composure crumbling. She burst through the door, her footsteps echoing in the small space, and the sight that greeted her made her heart seize.

Luffy, Zoro, and Sanji stood around the table, their casual postures betraying nothing of the enormity of the moment. As Nami's eyes swept over them, something inside her gave way, and she dashed forward, throwing herself into their arms with a force that nearly knocked them over.

"You idiots," she choked out, her voice trembling.

For a moment, none of them spoke. Then Luffy's arms wrapped around her, his grip firm and steady.

"Missed you too, Nami," he said with a grin, though his voice carried an uncharacteristic softness.

Zoro stood slightly apart, but even he allowed himself a rare smile, his usual guarded expression giving way to something warmer. Sanji, of course, took full advantage of the moment, dramatically declaring, "Nami-swan! My heart is complete now that you're back!"

Nojiko lingered in the doorway, her hand gripping the frame as she watched the scene unfold. Her sister—so guarded, so fiercely independent—was embracing these men with a level of affection Nojiko hadn't seen in years. It was as if a dam had broken, years of pent-up emotion spilling out in one overwhelming surge. In the embrace her sister was apparently explaining something about a place called Baratie but she couldn't get everything.

When the embrace finally ended, Nami stepped back, brushing tears from her eyes with a sheepish laugh. "You guys look terrible," she said, though her voice was thick with emotion.

"You're one to talk," Zoro replied, smirking.

"Yeah, well," Nami shot back, her tone playful despite the lingering crack in her voice. "I've been busy."

Luffy's grin widened. "Good, because we've got work to do. Let's deal with Arlong already."

The room fell silent.

Nojiko felt a cold weight settle in her chest as the words hung in the air. She had suspected this would come up, but hearing it stated so plainly made it all the more real.

"Wait," she said, stepping fully into the room. All eyes turned to her, and she hesitated for a moment before pressing on. "You can't be serious. You can't just... march up to Arlong Park and fight him. You'll be killed."

"We've already decided," Nami said, her voice firm.

"Don't be stupid!" Nojiko snapped, the fear in her voice sharper than she intended. "You think you can just take on Arlong and his men? You think you'll survive that?"

Luffy stepped forward, his expression uncharacteristically serious. "We're not going to lose," he said simply.

Nojiko stared at him, searching his face for any hint of doubt, but there was none. He spoke with the same unwavering certainty he'd displayed on the shore earlier, and it left her both awestruck and terrified.

"Nami," she said, turning to her sister. "You don't have to do this. You don't have to fight. We'll figure something out—"

"No," Nami interrupted, her voice steady but filled with a quiet intensity. "This is the only way. Arlong's been in control of our lives for too long. It's time to end it."

Nojiko's throat tightened, but she said nothing. She wanted to argue, to beg them to reconsider, but deep down, she knew it was futile. The resolve in their eyes—especially in Nami's—was unshakable.

As the group began making preparations, Nami did something that surprised even herself. Turning to Nojiko, she said, "Gather the villagers. I want them to see this."

Nojiko blinked, stunned. "Are you serious? If Arlong sees them—"

"He won't," Nami said firmly. "Not if we win."

There was a conviction in her sister's voice that left no room for doubt. Nojiko nodded slowly, her heart heavy with fear but bolstered by a flicker of hope.

—

The Next Morning the village square was awash in golden sunlight, a deceptively serene stage for the storm brewing in every heart gathered there. Nami stood at the center, her shadow stretching long across the dust-covered stones. Her fingers curled into fists at her sides as she faced the crowd—faces she knew so well, yet didn't know at all.

The villagers' eyes bore into her, a mix of suspicion and weariness. Their expressions were guarded, skepticism gnawing at the faintest edges of hope. After all, wasn't she Arlong's ally? His navigator?

The weight of their doubt settled on her shoulders, but Nami lifted her chin, unwilling to let it crush her resolve. She'd seen this before—felt it. The moment when the chains of fear started to rattle but hadn't yet broken. The people didn't believe in her, not yet. But she wasn't doing this for herself.

"Everyone," she began, her voice steady, though a tremor of emotion quivered at its edges. "We've lived under Arlong's tyranny for years. He's taken your homes, your dignity, your families. I know what you think of me. I know how you see me—his accomplice, his lackey. And maybe you're right."

The murmurs swelled like an undertow, uneasy whispers rippling through the crowd. Nami met their gazes one by one, her eyes softening with something she couldn't quite name. Was it guilt? Defiance? Both?

"I worked with him," she admitted, the words scraping her throat raw. "Not because I wanted to, but because I had no choice. I thought... I thought I could beat him at his own game. But I was wrong. I couldn't. Not alone."

Her voice hardened, cutting through the murmurs like a blade. "But I've seen what he truly is. Arlong isn't invincible. He isn't the god he wants you to believe he is. He's just a man—a monster, yes, but one who can bleed."

A hush fell over the crowd, heavy and skeptical. Nami could feel the weight of their disbelief pressing against her like an invisible wall. Only Genzo and Nojiko stood apart, their silent support steadying her like anchors.

"I'm not asking you to trust me," she said, her voice lowering but gaining intensity. "I know that trust is something I have to earn. But I am asking you to believe in what you'll see. Come with me. Watch with your own eyes as Arlong falls. Not because of me, but because there are people here—" her gaze flicked briefly to Luffy, Zoro, and Sanji standing at the edge of the square, their postures unshakable—"who won't stop until he's gone."

The villagers exchanged uneasy glances. A wiry man near the front, his face drawn and weathered, spat onto the ground. "Why should we believe you? You've taken Arlong's blood money for years, and now you want us to think you're on our side? What's stopping you from turning tail the second things get rough?"

A pang of pain flickered across Nami's face, but she pushed through it. "You're right," she said, her voice carrying a quiet force. "I don't deserve your faith. But I'm not doing this for myself. I'm doing it for you—for this village, for Bellemere, for the life Arlong stole from all of us. If you can't believe in me, then believe in the people I've brought with me. Believe in what's possible."

Her words lingered in the air, heavy with meaning. Slowly, Genzo stepped forward, his weathered face lined with equal parts worry and resolve. "You heard her," he said, his voice firm but not unkind. "I've known Nami since she was a little girl. I know what she's been through. And if she says Arlong can be beaten, I believe her. If nothing else, don't you owe it to yourselves to see that with your own eyes?"

A few heads nodded reluctantly, while others still wavered. Nojiko stepped forward, her voice steady and cutting through the doubt like a clear bell. "This is about more than Nami. It's about all of us. Don't let him keep you in the dark any longer."

The villagers' hesitation began to thaw, inch by inch. A young woman stepped forward, her lips pressed into a thin line. "We'll come," she said, her voice trembling but resolute. "But only to see. If you're lying, Nami, we'll never forgive you."

Nami nodded, her expression one of quiet determination. "That's all I'm asking."

Gradually, the crowd began to shift, the murmur of doubt replaced by something quieter, something hopeful. The villagers moved hesitantly, forming a loose line behind her.

Nami turned to her crew, her gaze locking onto Luffy's unwavering smile, Zoro's calm determination, and Sanji's steady assurance. The fire in their eyes reminded her of the future she had already lived—the future she was determined to make real again.

"Let's go," she said, her voice steady now, brimming with a confidence she didn't need to explain.

As the procession moved toward Arlong Park, Nami felt the villagers' uncertainty pressing against her back. But she also felt their footsteps, heavy with fear but moving forward nonetheless. And that was enough.

—

The salty sea breeze carried the echo of raucous laughter through the sinister sprawl of Arlong Park. Fishmen lounged on mismatched furniture, their guttural chuckles mixing with the clink of tankards and the heavy thud of boots against stone. The air was thick with the acrid tang of spilled grog and the faint metallic scent of rust—a testament to the recent rebellion they had snuffed out with brutal efficiency.

Arlong sat on his throne, a hulking shadow of menace. The skeletal framework of his chair seemed alive under his weight, the jagged, coral-like arms appearing to twist and coil. He swirled a dark amber liquid in a crude goblet, the motion lazy, almost hypnotic. The distant sound of the sea lapping against the park's edges might have been soothing to anyone else, but for Arlong, it was merely background noise to his private revelry.

"Humans," he muttered, his deep, gravelly voice thick with contempt. His words were more for himself than his crew, though a few nearby Fishmen chuckled at the disdain curling in his tone. "Pathetic little creatures. Fragile, foolish, weak. They break so easily."

He grinned, exposing his rows of razor-sharp teeth, and the drink sloshed in his grip as he gestured expansively. "And yet, they never learn. They stand up just to be crushed again. Every rebellion, every whisper of defiance—" his grin widened, sickly satisfied, "—just another excuse to remind them of their place."

Hatchan, always cheerful and somewhat oblivious, raised his tankard. "Cheers to that, boss!"

The Fishmen cheered, slamming their mugs together. Laughter erupted anew, filling the park with its unnerving symphony.

But then it came.

A deafening crash split the air like a cannon shot, sharp and sudden, silencing every voice. Heads whipped toward the entrance as the massive iron gates of Arlong Park groaned in protest before shattering into splinters that flew in all directions. Dust and debris erupted like a storm cloud, hanging thick and ominous in the air.

The Fishmen froze, their boisterousness replaced by confusion and mounting tension. The silence stretched, taut and heavy, as the dust began to settle.

And then they saw him.

A boy, barely more than a teenager, emerged from the haze. His straw hat was tilted just enough to cast a shadow over his eyes, but the unmistakable grin curling his lips radiated an eerie confidence. Steam rose faintly from his body, catching the sunlight in ghostly tendrils.

Behind him came two more figures: a lanky blond man with a cigarette perched at the corner of his mouth, his sharp blue eyes glinting with mischief, and a swordsman whose vivid green hair caught the sun like a blade's edge. Three katanas hung at his side, and the stillness in his stance suggested a predator poised to strike.

As the dust cleared further, Arlong spotted a fourth figure standing off to the side—Nami. Her shoulders were squared, her gaze locked onto his. She wasn't cowering, wasn't trembling. Instead, there was a fire in her eyes that burned brighter than the sun beating down on them.

The villagers clustered behind the group, their presence weak and unsteady but undeniable. They were watching. Witnessing.

Arlong's grin evaporated.

"You," he growled, his voice low and dangerous, a rolling thunder before the storm. He rose from his throne, his towering frame casting a shadow over the courtyard. "Who dares to challenge me?"

His voice boomed through the park, shaking the very stones beneath their feet. "A bunch of fools and a traitor? You think this pathetic display is enough to stand against me?"

The boy with the straw hat stepped forward, unflinching. His posture was relaxed, his grin widening to something that bordered on audacious.

"I'm Monkey D. Luffy," he said, his voice carrying a calm, unshakable edge that belied the chaos around him. "And I'm here to kick your ass."

For a moment, the words seemed to hang in the air, surreal in their simplicity. And then Luffy moved.

In the blink of an eye, he launched himself forward, his body a blur of motion. The ground cracked beneath his feet as he propelled himself into the air, his fist cocked back, steam curling around his arm like a coiled snake.

The impact was cataclysmic. Luffy's fist collided with Arlong's jaw with a sound like thunder, the sheer force of the blow sending shockwaves rippling through the air. Arlong's massive frame was hurled backward, crashing through the towering walls of his park. Coral and stone crumbled like brittle shells, leaving a gaping hole where his throne once stood.

For a beat, the courtyard was silent.

The Fishmen stared, their jaws slack, their disbelief almost tangible. Arlong—the man they had thought untouchable—lay amidst the rubble, his once-unshakable aura of dominance cracked like the shattered walls around him.

Even the villagers gasped, their hands flying to their mouths as they exchanged wide-eyed looks.

Arlong groaned as he pulled himself from the wreckage, blood seeping from the corner of his mouth. His fingers curled into fists, his sharp teeth bared in a snarl of pure rage.

What...what is this brat?

He fixed his gaze on Luffy, the boy standing calm and resolute in the center of the destruction he had wrought.

"This ends now," Luffy said simply, his voice carrying the weight of an unyielding promise.

Sanji stepped forward, cracking his knuckles, while Zoro unsheathed his swords with a deliberate, menacing grace.

The confrontation hung in the air, poised to erupt. And this time, it wasn't just a battle—it was the beginning of the end.

Author's notes: This definitely got a bit lengthy, but here it is. Truthfully, this chapter was written through Nojiko's perspective to highlight how bizarre the events are from a normal person's point of view. Keep in mind, everyone claiming they'll take down Arlong is at most 18 years old at this point. Then there's Luffy, essentially riding a Sea King—everything is absolutely absurd. But let's face it, that's a normal Thursday for the Straw Hats.

Also, I should mention that English is not my native language, so when writing, I sometimes come across as overly formal, I'll try to tone that down in the future. Thank you for reading, and Chapter 4 should be up sometime next week!

P.S. To the copy-paste bots offering your work for illustration or something: I'm not interested. Please don't leave reviews like that. I will report them as spam.