One Piece: The Frozen Fang

The breeze off the harbor was warm, stirring the hem of Varin's fur-lined pants and tousling the uneven curtain of black hair that fell past his shoulders. He stood at the edge of the wharf, boots planted wide, arms crossed against his bare chest as the sun broke through the clouds in faint shafts of light. His silver eyes, cool and watchful, swept across Loguetown's waterfront—not searching for anything in particular, just watching. Observing.

He didn't like it here.

Not because of the noise, though there was plenty of that—vendors calling out prices, sailors cursing as they hauled crates, children darting between booths like gulls after scraps. Not because of the smell, though it reeked of brine, fish, and a thousand too many bodies crammed into one stretch of coast. No. It was the air itself. Something in it felt heavy. Tense. Like a moment just before lightning split the sky. Something was coming.

And he knew better than most—when the wind changed like this, it meant the world was about to tilt.

His eyes flicked to the sea, watching the tide roll in slow and steady, slapping against the pier with soft, rhythmic thuds. He could've stayed there for hours. Alone with his thoughts. He almost wanted to. When he wasn't being hunted, bled, starved, or frozen, quiet felt like the closest thing to worship. No questions. No expectations.

But of course, peace was fleeting.

A burst of movement caught his eye—figures moving quickly in the streets ahead. Voices rising. Not panicked. Not afraid. But stirred.

"—Some idiot climbed the execution platform!"

"—Swear to the gods, I saw it with my own eyes—!"

"—He's just standing there, arms wide like he's calling out the whole damn Navy!"

Varin straightened slightly, his silver gaze narrowing.

The execution platform.

He didn't need to hear the name.

He already knew.

Only one lunatic on this side of the ocean had the audacity—and idiocy—to climb that piece of history like it was a festival stage.

Monkey D. Luffy.

A low, sardonic sound left his throat—half a chuckle, half a sigh. He ran a clawed hand through his hair, dislodging a few stray flecks of sea salt. "Of course you did," he muttered.

He turned from the sea and started walking, boots thudding against the pier with a purposeful cadence. Not rushed. But firm. Decisive. The kind of stride that said if something needed breaking, he'd break it.

And beneath his skin, quiet as breath, something old stirred in response.

The beast was never truly silent. It watched, as always, through his eyes. Felt the shift in the wind. The pulse of the crowd. The weight of a name echoing through the streets.

Pirate King.

Varin said nothing, but the smallest smirk ghosted across his lips as he stepped into the tide of people flowing toward the square.

If Luffy had decided to stand where Gold Roger died…

Then fate, it seemed, was already watching.

Varin moved through the crowd like a shadow slipping between sunbeams—fluid, deliberate, unhurried. He didn't shove or jostle. The sea of people parted for him without realizing it, some catching sight of his towering frame too late to do anything but step aside. Eight and a half feet of muscle, scars, and quiet menace demanded its own kind of space, and Loguetown, in its chaos, obliged without question.

The air thickened the closer he got to the square.

Not just from bodies pressed tight, all trying to get a look at the idiot—his idiot—who'd climbed to the top of the execution platform. But from something else. A weight. Something old and coiled and waiting. History had a scent, and this place reeked of it. Blood. Smoke. Glory. Regret. He could almost taste the ghosts.

Above the crowd, he could see the silhouette of the platform. Towering, unyielding, wooden pillars blackened from sun and rain and age. It hadn't been rebuilt, hadn't been restored. No, they wanted people to see it. To remember what happened there. To feel the noose even without the rope.

And on top of it, framed by the pale wash of the late morning sun—

A straw hat.

Perched on a wide grin and a body balanced like he had not a single care in the world.

Varin's eyes narrowed, not in anger, but in something close to disbelief. He didn't know whether to laugh, sigh, or leap straight into a brawl.

Of course, Luffy climbed it.

Of course, he stood at the very place where Gol D. Roger, the Pirate King himself, had smiled at death and passed the torch to the world.

That damn hat… it was like a magnet for history.

He stopped at the edge of the square, tall enough to see over the heads of the crowd. Voices buzzed around him—murmurs of awe, fear, disbelief.

"Is he insane?"

"There's Marines crawling all over this place!"

"That's where he died, right? Roger?"

Varin barely heard them. His eyes were fixed on the boy standing atop the world's greatest grave marker. The boy who would be king.

A part of him itched. That old instinct—step forward, tear through anything that moves, protect the pack. But he didn't move yet. Not until it was needed. Not until the pieces began to fall.

Instead, he crossed his arms slowly, claws glinting in the light. Watching. Waiting. Listening to the wind.

A few people gave him wide-eyed glances. Someone muttered under their breath about marines. Another whispered about bounty hunters. Varin ignored them all.

He wasn't here for them.

There was Luffy, plain as day, standing proudly at the top of the execution stand, arms out wide like he was greeting an old friend—or challenging the entire island to a fight. That ridiculous grin of his was pasted across his face.

But it wasn't the boy who drew Varin's eye for much longer.

It was the woman.

She stood at the base of the platform, towering, striking, her skin seeming to catch the sunlight with every slow, confident movement. But what struck him most was the way the people around her reacted—not with fear, not with suspicion—but awe. Lust. Several of the men—and a few women—around Varin were staring at her with literal hearts in their eyes, dazed expressions melting into wide, foolish grins. He even heard someone mutter, "She's the most beautiful woman I've ever seen," as though in a trance.

Varin frowned, his silver eyes narrowing as he scanned the woman more closely.

Her hair was short, dark, and cascaded over her shoulders like a cape—around her actual cape—In her hands, she carried a massive iron club—easily something most people wouldn't be able to lift, let alone wield with purpose. Her voice, when it rang out across the square, was sickly sweet and sharp-edged all at once.

"I'll never forget how you hit me!" she called up to Luffy with a pointed pout, the tone almost flirtatious, sultry even, as if this was a lover's spat playing out for the crowd.

Varin's brows raised slightly. He looked from the woman to Luffy.

Luffy scratched his head, clearly confused, and shouted back, "I've never seen you before in my life!"

There it was—unmistakable sincerity in his voice. No hesitation. No guilt. He had no clue who she was.

Varin's lips tugged into a half-smirk, amused and bewildered all at once. Of course Luffy didn't recognize her. That wasn't the kind of lie he'd even know how to tell.

But this woman? There was something wrong about her—something that didn't match the way people melted in her presence. That massive club of hers wasn't for show. No one carried something like that unless they knew how to use it.

He edged closer, weaving through the mesmerized onlookers, ignoring the dreamy sighs and slack jaws. The woman stepped forward, dragging the spiked end of the club across the ground, letting it ring ominously as she smiled up at Luffy.

"You don't remember me?" she asked, almost disappointed. "You hit me and left me behind like I was trash."

The crowd gasped as one.

Luffy blinked. "Still not ringing a bell."

Varin's expression didn't change. His gaze flicked to the club, the weight of it, the way her shoulders shifted when she moved. She knew how to throw it. She wasn't posturing.

The air shifted subtly.

Not yet a fight.

But close.

Very close.

Varin stepped further into the edge of the gathering, his presence already warping the space around him. People began backing away without even realizing why, the way smaller animals retreat from something that smells too much like a wolf.

He crossed his arms loosely over his chest, claws clicking once against his biceps. He didn't know who this woman was, or what exactly her history with Luffy entailed—but that didn't matter.

Because if that club so much as twitched the wrong way toward his captain—

Well.

She'd learn exactly what it meant to threaten a pack animal.

Luffy stood high atop the execution platform, the morning sun casting a golden glow around him, his usual wide grin plastered across his face. Below, the crowd buzzed with restless energy, eyes darting back and forth between him and the imposing figure beside him.

Behind the woman wielding the enormous club, Varin lingered in the horde, his towering presence blending making him stick out. His silver eyes flicked from the crowd to the woman's captivating smile, and back to Luffy, who remained oblivious to the tension swirling beneath his feet.

"Oh, Luffy," she purred, resting the massive club against her shoulder with an effortless grace. "You really don't remember? That strike of yours…" She sighed deeply, dragging one hand slowly down her neck, drawing the gaze of dozens. "It felt good. It woke me up. Like I hadn't truly lived until that moment."

The crowd's attention tightened, the noise fading until all that could be heard was her voice echoing against the wooden planks of the platform. The faces below were rapt, many with hearts practically visible in their eyes, enchanted by her bold confession.

Alvida's gaze swept the assembly, then lifted defiantly toward Luffy. "Tell me, everyone," she declared with theatrical flair, "what is the most beautiful sight in all the East Blue?"

A beat of silence passed before the crowd dropped to their knees as one, voices rising in a chorus.

 "That would be you, Lady Alvida!"

Varin's eyes narrowed, unimpressed by the display of adoration surrounding the woman. His stance was steady, unyielding amidst the sea of bowed heads.

Luffy, perched above, blinked down at the scene, confusion flickering across his face. "Why is everyone kneeling? What's going on?" he called, voice carrying over the hushed crowd.

The woman—Alvida—extended one arm gracefully to the side, her fingers splayed like she was presenting herself to the gods. Her lips curled in smug satisfaction, eyes half-lidded as the sunlight gleamed off her polished skin. "That's correct," she purred, her voice honeyed and triumphant. "There isn't a man alive who wouldn't crumble beneath my beauty."

The crowd answered with eager murmurs and sighs of agreement, their adoration thick in the air.

But high above on the execution platform, Luffy tilted his head, confusion etched into every line of his face. "Are you sure?" he said bluntly, scratching the side of his cheek. "I don't think I have."

Then, with an absent gesture of one hand, he pointed straight down. "And neither has he."

The crowd turned, necks craning toward the man standing just behind Alvida.

Varin didn't blink. His silver eyes remained fixed on her, unimpressed and unmoved, like a glacier staring down a candle. Arms crossed loosely over his bare chest, he looked more irritated by the attention than spellbound. The thick scars across his torso caught the light, but there was nothing romantic in the way he stood—just a towering, brooding wall of ice unmoved by charm or theatrics.

His face said everything.

Alvida turned her head slowly, the heavy mass of her hair swaying like velvet behind her. Her eyes locked with Varin's, searching for the usual awe, the slack-jawed devotion she'd grown used to commanding with a single glance.

Instead, she found a stare so flat, so bluntly disinterested, it nearly offended her on a metaphysical level.

Varin gave a half-snort, not even bothering to hide it.

"I've seen prettier jellyfish," he muttered under his breath—just loud enough for her to hear. "And they sting less."

Gasps rippled through the closest few bystanders.

Alvida's smile wavered, her expression caught somewhere between shock and indignation. Her grip on the massive iron club twitched.

Above, Luffy blinked down, oblivious to the rising tension. "HI VARIN!" he shouted. 

Alvida's voice dropped to a venomous purr. "You must be blind," she hissed, turning fully toward Varin now, her beauty curdling at the edges. "Or just stupid."

Varin's eyes glinted like distant steel. He didn't move. "Or maybe I just don't kneel."

For the first time, the crowd didn't laugh with her. A ripple of uncertainty passed through them, as if the spell had been cracked by a chisel of truth.

Alvida's eyes narrowed.

And behind her, Varin smiled—just barely. Not cruelly. Not mockingly.

A voice split the air like a knife through silk—high-pitched, theatrical, too gleeful to be anything but dangerous.

"Surpriiiiiise!"

Varin's head jerked toward the sound just as the sky cracked with thunder—not from nature, but from something manmade and deliberate.

An instant later, a red iron cannonball tore through the sky with a howling scream, slamming down into the center of the town square. The ornate marble fountain, centerpiece of Loguetown's plaza, exploded in a burst of stone, water, and pulverized earth. The blast echoed down the alleyways like a clap of the gods.

People screamed.

Stalls shattered.

Dust and fragments rained across the square in a furious arc.

Varin's body tensed—but he didn't move. There was no need.

The blast had shaken the square, sure, sending tremors up through the cobblestones and tossing dust into the air like ash from a flame. But the debris? Most of it was harmless—pebbles, splinters of stone that bounced and rolled like scattered dice across the plaza. The townsfolk ducked and shouted, startled more than injured, their panic louder than the danger warranted.

Only one piece stood out.

A single, massive shard of masonry—tall as a man and jagged like a broken fang—spun high over the crowd, trailing dust in a vicious arc. It should've hit someone. Should've crushed the nearest bystander, carved a path of ruin through the chaos.

But it didn't.

Instead, it hurtled straight for the elegant woman at the edge of the square—Alvida, as Varin had heard her named moments before. Her expression didn't change. She didn't flinch. Didn't even look.

And at the last second, the stone veered.

It didn't ricochet or bounce. It slid. Like it hit something too smooth to grip. Like the very air around her had turned slick, frictionless. The great slab of rubble skidded along an invisible curve, peeled away from its trajectory like oil on glass, and slammed harmlessly into the wall behind her in an explosion of chalky powder.

Varin's eyes narrowed, silver gleaming beneath his brow. He hadn't missed it. The unnatural bend. The graceful evasion that didn't come from movement but from the very world bending around her. His arms remained at his sides, claws loose, expression calm—but there was a tension now. Focus. Awareness.

That hadn't been luck.

And if she could bend the world like that without lifting a finger…Then she wasn't just some showy partner in crime; she had a Devil Fruit. That made her unpredictable, that made her dangerous.

Above them, Luffy's voice carried easily from the execution platform. "Was that a cannon?! That was awesome!"

He pointed down lazily, grin wide and completely oblivious. "Hey! Are you okay, weird lady?"

Alvida turned slightly at the voice, ignoring the fading chaos around her. Her expression was pure seduction wrapped in smugness. "Of course I am, darling." Her eyes sparkled like someone enjoying the attention far too much. "There isn't a man alive who could touch me."

From the edge of the crowd, Varin's sharp gaze locked onto the advancing cloaked figures. They moved as one—silent, confident—closing the distance with purpose. And leading them was the most unmistakable face among them: a man with a bright red nose peeking through his hood.

He paused in front of Alvida and removed his hood, revealing a painted face beneath that vibrant nose.

"Buggy," Alvida's voice rippled through the murmuring crowd, "thank you for the boom."

Buggy the Clown—his flamboyant persona and real, bulbous red nose unmistakable—stepped forward, swaggering in every motion, flanked by what Varin assumed was his crew, he offered a theatrical bow.

Alvida chuckled before speaking with a false pout. "That was dangerous, though. I could have gotten hurt."

Buggy tapped his nose conspiratorially. "Nonsense, you're untouched as always. Now let's get on with the show, shall we?"

Varin studied them both. The alliance was clear—the cannon shot, the crowd manipulation, the display—it was all coordinated.

His jaw tightened.

Luffy, oblivious as always, finally noticed Buggy as well. "Buffoon the clown!?" he exclaimed, tentatively waving from the platform. "What are you doing here?"

Buggy's smile widened into a grin of self-importance. "What am I doing here? I'm putting on my show! And for my next act!" He sprang to attention, red nose bobbing, cloak swirling.

"We'll be killing you, Monkey D. Luffy!"

Buggy's grin froze.

For half a heartbeat, the square went quiet—so quiet you could hear the gentle whistle of wind passing over the rubble.

Then, in a twitch of rage, Buggy's face turned a volcanic shade of red. His eye bulged, and a vein on his forehead pulsed like a drumbeat. The sheer audacity of it hit him a second later—Buffoon?

"BUFFOON?!" he roared, the shriek cracking through the square like thunder.

The cloaked figures behind him flinched instinctively, several covering their ears. Alvida blinked and took a small step to the side, more out of caution than respect.

Buggy pointed up at the platform, shaking with fury, his gloved hand trembling like a leaf in a storm. "BUFFOON THE—!? I AM THE GREAT BUGGY THE CLOWN! THE CAPTAIN OF THE FEARSOME BUGGY PIRATES! MASTER OF THE BARA BARA NO MI! DO YOU EVEN KNOW HOW MANY MARINES TREMBLE AT THE SOUND OF MY NAME?!"

Up above, Luffy tilted his head. "Oh. So… not Buffoon, then?"

"NO!"

"...Balloon?"

Buggy sputtered like a boiling kettle, practically bouncing with outrage. "I WILL MURDER YOU IN FRONT OF EVERYONE IN THIS TOWN, YOU ELASTIC MORON!" He jabbed a finger upward, cloak whipping dramatically behind him. "For that insult—you don't just die. You get humiliated! You'll beg to be thrown in the sea when I'm done with you!"

Luffy, completely undeterred, cupped a hand to his mouth. "Hey, Varin! You ever heard of Buffoon the Clown?"

Behind Buggy, Varin sighed through his nose, arms crossed. "Never," he said flatly.

Buggy whirled on him, red nose twitching with disbelief. "IT'S BUGGY! BUGGY THE CLOWN!"

"Right. Buffoon," Varin deadpanned, silver eyes glinting.

Buggy screeched—half clown, half banshee—and nearly tripped over his own cloak in a fury, arms flailing.

Alvida cleared her throat delicately. "Buggy, darling… if you're done unraveling, maybe we can kill him now?"

Buggy froze mid-rant, eyes twitching. Then he straightened his coat with great dignity, adjusted his hat, and grinned with venomous flair. "Yes… of course. The show must go on."

His gaze snapped back up to Luffy.

"And this, ladies and gentlemen, is the act you won't want to miss—Monkey D. Luffy, the idiot who mocked the Great Buggy, meets his final curtain!"

The crowd gasped—some from the theatrics, others simply backing away from the scene as it spiraled toward chaos. Varin's hand twitched toward his side—no weapon, no blade. Just claws. And patience running thin. He didn't know how this would end, but he had a feeling it was about to get loud.

And he was very, very ready for it.

Varin's ears twitched, catching the murmurs first. Rippling through the crowd like wind rustling through brittle leaves.

"Pirates."

"Did he say—Buggy? The Buggy?"

"Alvida's with him, that witch—"

"Someone call the Marines—now!"

He let out a slow, heavy breath through his nose. Not quite a sigh of exhaustion. Not entirely annoyance. But something that slid between the two like a blade drawn halfway from its sheath.

He didn't move immediately. Just stood there behind Alvida, arms crossed, silver eyes half-lidded. His gaze roamed the square—at the bystanders backing away, grabbing their loved ones, vanishing into alleyways. At others, shouting and sprinting for whatever passes for the local Marine post in this town. A town that once bore witness to the execution of the Pirate King… and now shook with tension again under a new weight.

The square was changing. Tilting. You could feel it.

And then there was him—Buggy—still ranting like a madman, nose bouncing with every syllable. Luffy above, grinning like he didn't have a care in the world. And Alvida, basking in her own imagined spotlight, drinking in the stares like wine.

Varin exhaled again, this time with a touch more irritation, his brow twitching just slightly.

"Idiots," he muttered.

The townspeople were right. There were pirates here. But none of them knew how far down the current truly went. Not the screaming girl dragging her brother to safety. Not the baker slamming his shutters. And definitely not the man who had just sprinted out of the plaza yelling "Captain Smoker!" at the top of his lungs.

Varin felt something inside him stir. A slow, low thrum—deep in his chest, coiling around his spine like a muscle waiting to tense. His blood, silent for so long, shifted. Not a boil. Not yet. But it moved.

He could feel it again—the pull.

The scent of coming violence. The kind only a man like that could bring.

A Marine Captain. Not just some rank-and-file tin soldier waving justice around like a saber, but a real one. The kind with a name. A reputation. The kind that doesn't break under pressure—they cause it. The kind they'd send to this town, today, of all days. He didn't know the name Smoker, but if the title was real… if it was a Captain...

He tilted his head slightly, cracking his neck.

He hadn't fought a proper marine since then. Since before. Since the day his old life ended.

The thought made his claws flex slightly.

"Damn it," he muttered under his breath, voice more amused than angry now.

Because as much as he hated it—hated the idea of being recognized, of fighting in broad daylight, of drawing attention to the very past he was trying to bury—there was a part of him, a dangerous part, that had already started counting how long it would take the Marines to get here.

And a part of him that wanted them to come.

Just to see if he could still tear through them like before.

His eyes drifted up to the platform, locking on Luffy—still laughing, still completely oblivious to the lines being drawn in the dirt below.

"This crew…" he murmured, a faint grin forming on his lips.

Then he stepped forward. Not a lunge. Not a sprint. But a deliberate move into the open square, one that would make anyone watching ask—

Friend or foe?

And in Varin's case, the answer depended on who asked first. But he held back, he waited, he wanted to see where this went, Buggy must have some sort of plan, and he wanted to see what it was before acting, to see if he was worthy of his time. 

A sudden lull swept through the square—the crowd's panic stilled, replaced by a chilling hush. Then, with terrifying speed, one of Buggy's crew seized the top half of a pillory—an old wooden device used to trap heads and hands.

In a flash, he swung it down on Luffy, who was still grinning up on the platform. The heavy timber slammed against Luffy's shoulders and neck, locking him in place. His arms shot out sideways, pinned inside the holes, head caught in the center. A collective gasp rippled through onlookers.

Varin, positioned just behind Alvida, felt the air shift with the weight of that brutal move. He didn't move—not yet—but his eyes narrowed to slits, every instinct screaming.

Alvida's smirk widened, indulgent and vile. Buggy's crew began to jeer, proud of the trap they'd laid. The crowd was stopped by more of Buggy's men, guns held to them, forcing them to watch the scene in the town's square. The tension thickened till it was almost tangible.

And then the wind changed.

It came fast and sudden, curling around the square with a whip-crack howl. Market stalls flapped violently, banners tore from awnings, and hats flew from heads. The temperature dropped, sharp and briny. Varin's long, wild hair stirred behind him, snapping like a banner of war in the rising gale.

His pupils contracted slightly.

He lifted his chin.

He could smell it—thick and metallic on the wind.

Rain. Heavy. Not a sprinkle, not a drizzle. A downpour. A squall. A deluge born somewhere deep and angry offshore and coming fast. The kind of rain that didn't just soak the skin but clawed its way into the bones.

And above them, the sky had begun to churn.

Slow at first—then faster. Clouds twisted over the square like coiled serpents. The light dimmed. Shadows danced across cobblestone as the first distant crack of thunder rumbled behind the horizon.

Varin didn't move.

Didn't speak.

But the storm inside him answered. A deep throb behind the ribs. Not rage. Not yet. Something older. More primal. The stirring of his Devil Fruit resonated faintly—Fenrir's pulse in his blood responding to the weight of betrayal, danger, and the threat to the one fool who'd freed him from his chains.

His claws flexed once at his sides, slow and deliberate.

He could hear Luffy grunting, struggling.

Buggy's laughter—high and reedy—echoed across the square. "Now that's more like it!" he bellowed. "Come one, come all! Witness the end of a pirate's journey before it ever began!"

Alvida giggled behind her hand.

The sky darkened further.