"Why did you go to Smoker's?" Finn asked, genuinely puzzled.
Had Hancock finally done it? But she and Smoker weren't exactly close.
Hadn't Hina mentioned, back in Alabasta, that Hancock had a bit of a thing for him?
Changed her mind that quickly?
Then again, knowing Hancock's character, that actually fit.
Finn had no intention of pursuing anything with her. But that hadn't stopped him from feeling quietly pleased about it whenever Hina let it slip during their time in Alabasta. The thought that the most beautiful woman in the world might be secretly carrying a torch for him, with no particular reason to -- no misunderstandings, no chance encounters, no dramatic coincidences between them, just ordinary contact and nothing more -- what did that say, exactly?
It said he was genuinely attractive.
So even with no plans to act on it, Finn had enjoyed the knowledge. A man would have to be made of stone not to.
Of course, being a man of some sense and self-respect, he wasn't going to throw a fit over Hancock changing her mind either. That would be beneath him. On the contrary, he hoped she'd be happy.
So when he heard she'd turned up at Smoker's base, he was surprised, a little thrown off, and maybe the slightest bit unsettled -- but nothing more than that. No grand feelings about it.
Then Hancock's voice came through the Den Den Mushi, calm as ever. "I arrived just a few days ago. And not just me -- Boss Jinbe is here too."
Finn paused.
How many people are at this gathering, exactly?
Before he could finish that thought, the receiver shuffled and Jinbe's deep, rolling laugh came through the line. "Admiral! Were you looking to put us to work? Hahaha -- Smoker said as much!"
Finn set his more colorful thoughts aside and smiled. "What's going on? Tell me everything."
"Simple enough," Jinbe said, his tone easy and unhurried. "Hancock and I had both been minding our respective territories when Smoker contacted us out of nowhere not long ago. Asked us to come together in the New World. I had other things on my plate originally and wasn't planning on making the trip -- until he pointed out that this might be our last real gathering as Seven Warlords of the Sea before everything changes. He said that given where things stand right now, the Marine moving against the New World pirates was inevitable, and it wouldn't be delayed much longer. When that moment comes, there's a real chance the three of us would have a role to play. Better to already be in position and ready than scrambling to get there."
"He said the same thing to me," Hancock added, her voice smooth and unhurried. "I talked it over with Boss Jinbe and we both agreed -- it was hard to argue with. We've actually never gathered like this before. We're all colleagues, and once the Seven Warlords system is dissolved, we might all end up serving at Marineford together. Who knows when the next chance for something like this would come? So I came along."
Finn settled back, quiet understanding spreading through him.
Smoker.
The man had spent years grinding it out in the New World without complaint, playing the long game with patience Finn hadn't been entirely sure he was capable of. And now this -- reading the currents before the order came, positioning his people in advance, anticipating what was needed before anyone had even asked. That wasn't luck. That was genuine growth.
It was easy to overlook, in some ways. Smoker had risen to Emperor with Marine scaffolding under him. The bribes, the backing, the carefully arranged alliance with Whitebeard -- none of that had been his idea alone, and none of it had come free. But what Smoker had done with that position afterward, and even in the process of securing it -- the decisions, the territory, the subordinates he'd kept and cultivated, the crises he'd navigated -- that had all been his. Neither Finn nor the Marine had needed to babysit any of it.
He'd accomplished everything that followed entirely on his own.
After years of commanding that kind of operation, his abilities had grown well beyond what anyone might have predicted when he was still chasing Luffy around the East Blue.
"That kid Smoker has genuinely impressed me," Finn said, and he meant it. "Not bad at all."
From the other end came a dry, slightly self-deprecating sound. "Honestly, my subordinates are smart enough. I can't claim too much credit for it."
"Being able to find those subordinates and hold onto them," Finn replied, "that's a skill in itself. Don't undersell it."
Having capable people around you wasn't a coincidence. You had to recognize them in the first place. You had to know how to use them, how to earn enough of their trust to bring out what they were actually capable of. That was leadership. Smoker had it.
Speaking of which -- Finn had a decent guess at who that sharp mind in Smoker's circle was. The man had mentioned it at some point: a recruit from East Blue, cunning and calculating, someone who had apparently been the one to propose the entire Emperor strategy in the first place.
Kuro of a Hundred Plans. The same man who had once caused no small amount of grief to the great Usopp in some sleepy coastal village.
Which meant Usopp, by extension, was probably fine. Without Luffy and Nami around to drag him headfirst into catastrophe, the man had likely spent the last several years living peacefully in his hometown, spinning increasingly elaborate tales for a beautiful, wealthy girlfriend who may or may not believe a word of them.
Finn had to admit: that picture was almost enviable.
He had originally assumed that by pulling Luffy and Nami into the Marine's orbit early, he'd left Usopp exposed to whatever dangers the original story had lined up. What he hadn't fully accounted for was that Usopp was simply that kind of person -- the type the world bends over backward to protect. Instead of running into the villain who had been lying in wait, Usopp had just... not gone there. Because Smoker had picked Kuro right up out of East Blue and put him to work as a strategist on his own ship. The problem had been solved at the root before it could even form.
That kind of luck was almost offensive.
Kuro was a cunning and slippery man with a very high intelligence. There was no question he was dangerous in the way that quietly dangerous people always are.
But he also had his own aspirations, and those aspirations had never really been about piracy. He had become a pirate reluctantly and with a clear exit strategy in mind -- seize enough from a rich target, retire cleanly, get ashore for good. He hadn't believed in it as a lifestyle. He'd believed it was an industry with no future, which was perhaps the clearest sign of how sharp he actually was.
Now, working alongside Smoker, trusted enough to be let in on things that mattered -- that meant Kuro had already read the room. He'd already understood enough of Smoker's position to know that Smoker was not just another pirate boss, and that whatever this operation was, it touched something much larger.
The logical conclusion was obvious. Kuro wanted to cling to Smoker's coattails and use that connection to rehabilitate himself. Clean up his name, get ashore legitimately, maybe land a post with the Marine. A desk somewhere in the Intelligence Staff would suit him perfectly -- no front-line risk, no exposure, just applying his mind in a structured environment with the right backing behind him.
And Smoker's circle, by extension, fed into Finn's sphere. Which meant that by attaching himself to Smoker, Kuro would be indirectly placing himself under Admiral Finn's umbrella. Compared to being a regional criminal kingpin in some backwater country, the ceiling on that path was essentially limitless.
Finn could more or less map out how Kuro had reached his conclusions, and he had no objection to where they'd landed. The Marine did have a tradition of absorbing former pirates, especially those whose skills could be put to use. Usually the small ones, but talent was talent. Kuro was only in his late twenties. Young, gifted, and now firmly pointed in the right direction.
In the original story, the hypnotist who had served under Kuro had ended up following Hina. He'd even shown up at one of the big informal gatherings at Marineford -- the kind where senior officers sat around talking about Rocks and sharing meals -- and managed to secure himself a seat at the table.
If that man had done that well, Kuro's prospects were considerably better.
He let the thought go and came back to the present.
"Since you're all already together in Tobacco City," Finn said, "that makes this simple. Pack up and report to G-1."
There was a sharp, sudden quiet on Smoker's end. Then, barely held together: "Admiral -- are you saying we report as Marine officers?"
Finn hadn't originally planned to commit that clearly, but now that Smoker had said it out loud, he also knew the timing was working in their favor. The delegations from the member states, fresh off the World Conference and looking for ways to demonstrate goodwill to the new Marine-dominated order, would eventually get around to the Seven Warlords of the Sea Act. It was one of the cleaner moves available to them -- low-cost, visible, satisfying to the right people. Propose its abolition, flatter the Marine hierarchy, and look like champions of justice all in one motion. There was a real art to that kind of political maneuver.
Finn had said two years when he'd mentioned disbanding the Warlord system. In practice, it would probably happen in six months. Maybe less.
With that in mind, there was no real point in keeping these three in suspense any longer. Smoker had given years to this. Hancock and Jinbe had waited just as long in their own ways. The least Finn could do was be direct.
"Come back as Marines -- all three of you," Finn said. "I have a mission for you."
This time there was a longer pause.
Over the years, every time Smoker had asked something along these lines, Finn's answers had been carefully noncommittal. Encouraging enough to keep him going, vague enough not to promise anything. Three years, then three more years, and now Smoker had become one of the Four Emperors of the Sea. If Finn had kept stringing him along this time without giving him something real to hold onto, Smoker might have started to genuinely suspect that the Admiral was secretly training him to become the next Pirate King.
After all, Whitebeard and the other old giants were already in their graves.
In the New World, with the field cleared the way it was -- the biggest pirate left standing was Smoker.
If I don't become the Pirate King, who will?
Fortunately, Finn had decided to be human about it this time.
Starting from roughly SCC 1503, Smoker had put on a pirate's coat and walked out onto the sea. That was almost fourteen or fifteen years of grinding -- the upheavals, the setbacks, the long stretches of holding on through sheer stubbornness. And now, at the end of all of it, the question of whether the Admiral's promise was real.
Smoker found he no longer cared too much about the rank. Whether or not the Admiral candidate position was genuine -- just getting back into the Marine was enough. Even if he came back at Rear Admiral instead of Vice Admiral, he'd take it without complaint.
"Yes, Admiral -- we will carry out the mission. Everything for justice!!!" Smoker's voice cracked slightly with it. "We'll reach G-1 as fast as we can!"
The passion was almost embarrassing. But it was earned.
Finn said a few more words of encouragement and set down the Den Den Mushi.
On Smoker's side, all three of them were buzzing with energy.
Nearby, a pot of broth was still rolling at a low boil, the smell of pork bones and chili oil hanging warm in the air. They'd been in the middle of a hotpot dinner and a good mood when the call had come through.
Jinbe glanced at it with quiet regret. "Are we... still eating?"
Smoker didn't hesitate for a second. "Eating? Pack everything up. We're leaving tonight -- straight to G-1!"
Back at his desk, Finn set down the receiver. Sakazuki leaned back with a satisfied look. "Smoker and the others are worthy of being our Marine. Now it's settled!"