Alabasta — Nahana Port.
The desert sun scorched the harbor at the kingdom's edge. Heat shimmered above the stone docks while dry sand mixed with the salty sea wind.
There were no dockworker shouts.
Only waves striking hulls.
And a suffocating silence pressing on every chest.
Smoker stood at the end of the pier.
The twin cigars in his mouth had long gone out. Ash lengthened precariously before dropping onto his bare chest, burning a small mark into his skin.
He did not react.
He did not blink.
Behind him, Tashigi stood frozen, one hand gripping her sword. Her glasses had slid to the tip of her nose, forgotten.
What blocked their view was not the sea.
It was a wall.
Three towering barricades of dark green military supply crates completely cut off the sightline between port and town.
The storage yard could not contain them.
They spilled into half the main road.
The escorting major wiped grease and sweat from his face and handed over a thick manifest, hands trembling.
"Colonel Smoker… please sign."
Smoker didn't take it. His eyes remained fixed on the stenciled markings.
G-5 level firepower configuration.
This… was the response from Marine Headquarters Logistics?
Tashigi opened the manifest and nearly dropped it.
"Colonel… this is… this is impossible…"
"We requested one month of operational supplies. This looks like…"
She swallowed.
"…half a war depot."
Smoker spat out the dead cigar, pulled two fresh ones from his coat, and lit them on the third attempt.
His fingers were stiff.
He walked toward the final item on the manifest.
A massive machine wrapped in tarpaulin.
Label:
Special Allocation
Below it:
Signature — KING
Approval — Sengoku
Smoker tore the tarp away.
CLANG.
The metallic sound was heavy and cold.
A prototype launcher, still smelling of oil and machine grease, its reinforced launch rails gleaming dully.
Mounted beside it was not ammunition—
but a compact deployment rack holding a tightly folded capture net inlaid with dark mineral nodes.
Smoker reached out.
The moment his fingers brushed the black surface—
his Smoke-Smoke Fruit ability stalled.
Weakness spread from his fingertips through his arm.
Seastone.
High-density.
High-purity.
"Colonel…" Tashigi whispered, scanning the fine print.
"This is a capture-net launcher designed to restrain large Logia-class targets…"
She looked up slowly.
"Why would headquarters deploy strategic anti-Logia equipment to us?"
Smoker shut the manual.
"I don't know."
Tashigi swallowed.
"…did we submit the wrong supply quantities?"
"No," Smoker said hoarsely. "What I requested would barely sustain a month of operations."
Ten Minutes Later — Communications Room
"Connect me to Marine Headquarters Logistics. Smoker speaking."
The Den Den Mushi formed a professional expression.
"Colonel Smoker. How may we assist you?"
"What happened to this shipment?!"
"The quantities are wrong. And that prototype device — that is not equipment assigned to a colonel!"
Silence.
Then:
"Colonel Smoker, this allocation was verified multiple times. The order bears the personal seal of the Chief of Logistics… Lord King."
A pause.
"…and was approved personally by Fleet Admiral Sengoku. This constitutes a top-priority directive. Please accept delivery."
Click.
The moment the name left the Den Den Mushi, Smoker's pupils shrank.
In his mind:
The man in Loguetown.
Lightning.
Storm.
A heartbeat like war drums.
The man who made the Revolutionary Army's leader withdraw without a fight.
Smoker lowered the receiver.
He stopped shouting.
Stopped questioning.
He paced the cramped room.
Shock.
Doubt.
Calculation.
Then—
understanding ignited.
No.
A man like that would not make a clerical mistake.
Absolutely not.
His steps halted.
If not an error—
then deliberate.
His thoughts connected with brutal clarity.
Why triple the supplies?
Because the conflict in Alabasta would not be brief.
Because prolonged instability had already been anticipated.
Why deploy Seastone capture equipment?
Because the true enemy is a Devil Fruit user.
A powerful one.
Why bypass procedure and deliver it directly?
This was the only point Smoker could not fully resolve.
He had ignored recall orders.
Crossed the Calm Belt.
Pursued pirates into the Grand line against directives.
By regulation, he deserved reprimand — not reinforcement.
Yet…
"Commander King…"
Smoker whispered.
"You trusted me anyway."
He slammed his fist onto the metal table.
His eyes burned with a fierce light.
"This is not a supply delivery."
"This is a declaration of war."
A declaration bypassing the World Government.
Ignoring political immunity.
Delivered directly to him.
A declaration against the Seven Warlords system.
Evening — Marine Deck Assembly
The setting sun turned the sea molten gold.
All Marines assembled.
Smoker stepped onto the platform, coat of Justice snapping in the wind.
He raised the allocation document bearing KING's seal.
The thin paper felt as heavy as iron.
His voice was hoarse — and burning.
"You think this is ordinary supply delivery?"
"Wrong!"
"This is trust from Marineford — from our new Chief of Logistics!"
"He has handed us the blade to tear away the masks of the Seven Warlords!"
"Justice is not for sale!"
"The darkness consuming Alabasta ends with us!"
"Do you dare take up this blade?!"
Silence.
Then—
a thunderous roar.
"YES!!!"
"Take down the crocodile!"
"Justice will prevail!"
"Long live the Navy! Long live Chief KING!"
The soldiers erupted with fervor.
They were not abandoned pawns.
They were the blade chosen by a legend.
Tashigi stood among them, unease tightening her grip on her sword.
This momentum…
this justice that bypassed procedure…
was it truly right?
Her thoughts drowned beneath the roar.
Smoker approached the massive launcher and pulled away its canvas.
The seastone-reinforced capture system gleamed coldly.
He lit his cigar and inhaled deeply.
"Raise anchor."
He stabbed a finger at the map.
"Full speed."
"Destination — Rainbase."
He exhaled smoke slowly.
"Since Headquarters gave us a net…"
"Let's haul in that sand crocodile."
Rainbase — Noon Heat
Desert air warped the horizon.
Crocodile stood in palace shade, sand trickling through his fingers as he watched the rebellion unfold exactly as planned.
Everything was proceeding perfectly.
Then—
"ACHOO!"
A sudden, violent sneeze shattered the still air.
The sand in his hand froze mid-flow.
An inexplicable chill crawled up his spine.
"…What the hell?"