Chapter 84: Smoker vs Luffy (III)
The steam rose from Luffy's body in thick waves, his skin flushed deep crimson, his eyes no longer carrying any trace of the carefree boy who had wandered through Loguetown's markets. His face was stone. His jaw was set. His fists were raised, and something had changed.
Smoker felt it before he saw it. The air around the boy was different. Heavier. Charged. Like the moment before lightning strikes.
Luffy's voice was quiet. "You should have run."
Smoker's smoke surged. He didn't wait. He couldn't wait. His jitte came up, his body dissolved, and the white cloud shot toward the platform like a cannonball.
Luffy moved.
Not fast. Faster. His arm came up, and Smoker's jitte swung through empty air. Luffy was inside his guard, his fist already driving forward. It caught Smoker in the chest, and the Marine felt something crack. His ribs. His smoke flickered, destabilized, and he was thrown backward across the square.
He hit the ground, rolled, came up with his jitte raised. Blood dripped from his mouth. His chest screamed.
Luffy was already there.
His fist came down. Smoker dissolved, his body becoming smoke, but the punch didn't stop. It tore through the cloud, and Smoker felt it anyway. The invisible armor that coated Luffy's knuckles caught him, ripped through his smoke form, and sent him crashing into the stone.
He reformed, gasping, and Luffy's kick caught him in the ribs.
He flew. His back hit a lamppost, bent it, kept going. He crashed into the front of a shop, wood and glass exploding around him. He fell to the ground, tried to rise, and Luffy was there again.
The punches came in a blur.
One. Two. Three. Each one wrapped in that invisible armor, each one connecting with flesh that should have been untouchable. Smoker's smoke tried to reform, tried to escape, but Luffy's fists were faster. They tore through the white cloud, found him every time, drove him back across the square.
Smoker raised his jitte. The Sea Prism Stone tip caught Luffy's forearm, and for a moment, the boy's strength faltered. Smoker swung, the weapon cutting toward Luffy's head.
Luffy's other hand caught the jitte.
His fingers wrapped around the shaft, just below the stone tip. His skin steamed. His grip held. He ripped the weapon from Smoker's hands and threw it across the square.
Smoker's eyes went wide. "You…"
Luffy's fist connected with his jaw.
Smoker flew. He crashed through a market stall, through another, through a third. Wood splintered. Canvas tore. He came to a stop against the base of the execution platform, his body a wreck of bruises and blood.
He tried to rise. His arms shook. His legs gave out. He fell to his knees, coughing blood onto the stone.
Luffy walked toward him. Slow. Deliberate. His steam was still rising, his skin still flushed, his eyes still hard. He stopped ten feet from Smoker and raised his fists.
"You wanted a fight," Luffy said. His voice was flat. Empty. "Here it is."
Smoker looked up at him. Blood ran from his mouth, his nose, a cut above his eye. His chest heaved. His smoke flickered weakly around his shoulders, barely there.
"You..." He coughed. "What are you?"
Luffy didn't answer. His fists came together. His arms pulled back. Steam poured from his shoulders, his elbows, his knuckles. The air around him shimmered with heat.
Smoker's eyes widened. He knew what was coming. He couldn't stop it. He couldn't dodge. He couldn't dissolve fast enough. He could only watch as Luffy's fists began to move.
"Gomu Gomu no..."
The first punch hit Smoker's chest. His ribs cracked. Blood flew from his mouth. The second hit his shoulder. The third his stomach. The fourth his jaw. They came faster than he could see, faster than he could feel, each one wrapped in that invisible armor that tore through his smoke like it was nothing.
"JET GATLING."
The flurry was a wall. Smoker's body was lifted off the ground, held in place by the sheer force of the blows raining down on him. His smoke tried to escape, tried to reform, but the fists found him every time, drove him back, broke him down. Blood sprayed across the stones. Bones cracked. The execution platform behind him shuddered with every impact.
Luffy's arms were blurs. His face was empty. His eyes were fixed on Smoker's chest, on the spot where he was driving every punch, on the heart that was still beating, still fighting, still refusing to stop.
The gatling ended.
Smoker hung in the air for a moment, suspended by the force of the final blow. Then he fell. His body hit the ground, bounced once, rolled to a stop against the platform's base. He didn't move. His chest barely rose. Blood pooled beneath him, mixing with the rain water still standing in the square.
Luffy stood over him. His steam was thinning. His color was fading. His arms hung at his sides, trembling, the muscles screaming.
He raised one fist. His arm pulled back. His knuckles were bloody, torn, the skin split across the knuckles. But the invisible armor was still there. He could feel it. Solid. Permanent.
He looked down at Smoker. At the Marine who had hunted him across Loguetown. At the man who had never lost to a pirate. At the broken body at his feet.
His arm pulled back one more time. His fist cocked.
"Gomu Gomu no..."
Smoker's eyes opened. Bloodshot. Dazed. But open. His hand moved, reaching for something. His jitte was across the square. His smoke was gone. He had nothing.
"Jet..."
Luffy's fist started forward.
His body stopped.
The steam vanished. The color drained from his skin. His fist, inches from Smoker's face, went slack. His arm dropped. His knees buckled. He fell forward, caught himself on the platform's base, gasping, shaking.
Gear Second was gone.
His body was empty. His arms were lead. His legs were water. The Haki that had burned so bright, so steady, flickered and died. He couldn't feel it anymore. Couldn't reach it. Couldn't find it.
Smoker's hand closed around his jitte. He didn't know how it had gotten there. He didn't care. He swung.
The Sea Prism Stone tip caught Luffy in the shoulder. Luffy's body went slack. His grip on the platform failed. He fell, and Smoker was on him, driving him into the stone, pinning him with the jitte across his throat.
Smoker's face was inches from Luffy's. Blood dripped from his mouth onto Luffy's cheeks. His eyes were wild, desperate, burning.
"You..." Smoker gasped. "You almost had me. Almost." His hand pressed the jitte harder against Luffy's throat. Luffy's rubber body was limp, useless, drained. "But you ran out. Your power. Whatever it was. It's gone."
Luffy's hands came up, grabbed the jitte, tried to push it away. His arms wouldn't move. His fingers wouldn't close. He was empty.
Smoker's weight pressed down. The stone tip bit into Luffy's throat. He couldn't breathe. Couldn't think. Couldn't move.
"This ends here," Smoker said. His voice was barely a whisper. "Straw Hat Luffy. Pirate. You're done."
The jitte pressed deeper.
Luffy's vision blurred. The grey sky above him was fading. Smoker's face was fading. Everything was fading.
Something moved in the corner of his eye.
A shadow. Fast. Silent.
Smoker's body lifted off him.
Not by his own will. Not by his own strength. Something had grabbed him, something that moved faster than Luffy could track, something that threw him like he weighed nothing.
Smoker flew. He flew across the square, past the broken stalls, past the shattered buildings, past the execution platform. He flew until he hit the far wall, the impact cracking the stone, and fell to the ground, unconscious.
Luffy lay on the stones, gasping, his throat raw, his chest heaving. He turned his head.
A figure stood at the edge of the square. Tall. Cloaked. Face hidden in shadow. His arms were crossed, his stance relaxed, as if throwing a Marine captain across a town square was nothing.
The figure didn't move. Didn't speak. Just stood there, watching.
Luffy pushed himself up. His arms shook. His legs shook. But he stood. He looked at the figure, at the cloak, at the shadowed face.
The figure's head tilted slightly. Not a nod. Not a gesture. Just... acknowledgment.
Luffy's hand went to his throat. The Sea Prism Stone's effect was fading. His strength was coming back. Not much. Enough.
He looked toward the harbor. The Going Merry was a speck on the water, almost gone, almost free. His crew was waiting. They were safe.
He turned back to the figure. Still watching. Still waiting.
Luffy's arm stretched. It reached across the square, past the broken stones, past the fallen Marine, past the execution platform where Roger had died. It reached toward the horizon, toward the sea, toward his crew.
His fingers closed around something like a pole on a roof. He pulled.
His body shot forward. He flew across the square, over the platform, over the rooftops, over the harbor. The wind screamed in his ears. The water rushed beneath him. The Going Merry grew larger, closer, waiting.
Behind him, the figure watched from the rooftop. His cloak fluttered in the wind of Luffy's passing. His face was still shadowed, but his eyes followed the rubber boy as he flew across the sky.
"Pirate King, huh," he said. His voice was low, rough, carried away by the wind. "Well then. Go on and do it."
Behind him, a door opened on the rooftop. Another figure emerged. Younger, sharper, his blond hair catching the fading light. His eyes tracked Luffy's flight, then moved to the cloaked man.
"Dragon." His voice was careful. Measured. "Why did you save Straw Hat?"
Dragon didn't turn. His eyes were still on the horizon, on the speck that was the Going Merry, on the boy who was falling toward it, arms outstretched, catching the railing, pulling himself aboard.
"That boy's journey should not end here, Sabo." His voice was quiet. Certain. "I believe he will prove to be of the utmost importance."
Sabo watched the ship sail away, watched the figure in the straw hat disappear below deck. He said nothing.
Dragon turned. His cloak shifted, revealing the tattoo on his face, the sharp lines of his jaw, the eyes that had seen too much to be surprised by anything anymore.
"Have you heard from Ivankov?"
Sabo's expression shifted. Professional. Focused. "She has sent the details. They can act now."
Dragon nodded once. He looked back at the sea, at the empty horizon where the Going Merry had disappeared. His eyes lingered on the spot for a moment longer.
Then he turned, and the two figures vanished into the shadows of Loguetown.