Sorry for the late update, been lazing around and moping.
...
'The Hometown of the Pirate King, the Handover of the Times, the Horn of the New Sea King!'
'What Signal is the God Slayer Sending When He Stands on Roger's Execution Platform?'
'Logue Town Shaken, the East Blue Faces Complete Upheaval!'
'The Marine Suffers Another Crushing Defeat, Who Can Stop This Monster?'
A few days after the devastating assault on Logue Town, Admiral Kuzan sat on the hospital steps beneath a grey morning sky, scanning the inflammatory headlines that screamed from every newspaper in his hands. Each publication seemed more sensational than the last, their bold lettering designed to grab attention and spread panic across the East Blue's normally peaceful waters.
"This situation keeps getting more complicated," he muttered, releasing a long sigh that misted in the cool air. "So troublesome..."
He scratched his head in obvious frustration, already feeling the weight of political pressure mounting from every direction.
Morgans' intentions were transparent to anyone with half a brain. The notorious journalist was essentially building momentum for the pirate side while simultaneously dragging the World Government's reputation through the mud. This represented the news agency's standard playbook, sensationalism designed to sell papers while undermining governmental authority.
Kuzan had witnessed this pattern before with rising stars like Fire Fist Ace and other promising rookies, all of whom had been elevated to legendary status through Morgans' aggressive promotional campaigns. But the propaganda surrounding Oboro far exceeded anything the admiral had previously observed. The coverage was more elaborate, more carefully crafted, and carried an intensity that suggested personal investment rather than simple journalistic opportunism.
The real problem wasn't just the World Economy News Paper itself, but the cascade effect it created throughout the information ecosystem. Secondary sources picked up Morgans' stories and amplified them through countless tabloids, local publications, and underground networks that reached every corner of the Grand Line. Even when the World Government attempted to implement media blackouts, their efforts proved futile against such a distributed communication system.
Public opinion, once poisoned by sensational headlines, was virtually impossible to control.
"Hahahaha!"
The sound of boisterous laughter from the hospital room behind him interrupted Kuzan's brooding. He folded the newspapers and rose from the steps, making his way inside to check on their patient.
The scene that greeted him was both predictable and somehow comforting in its familiarity. Smoker lay propped up in his hospital bed, his torso wrapped in enough bandages to outfit a small medical unit, while Vice Admiral Garp occupied the visitor's chair with the casual authority of someone who owned the entire building. The legendary Marine Hero was clearly enjoying himself at the younger officer's expense, his booming laughter filling the sterile room with warmth.
Smoker endured the teasing with characteristic stoicism, his jaw set in the stubborn lines that marked his default expression. Any other senior Marine officer attempting such casual mockery would have faced a verbal lashing that could peel paint from walls. But this was Monkey D. Garp, the man who had cornered Pirate King Roger multiple times, whose reputation transcended rank and protocol. Against such a living legend, even Smoker's legendary temper remained carefully controlled.
"Yo," Kuzan announced his presence with a casual wave, his tone carrying the kind of easy familiarity that came from years of working together. "How are you feeling?"
"Fine enough to be discharged," Smoker replied curtly, though the slight rasp in his voice suggested his injuries were more serious than he wanted to admit. "Sitting around in this bed won't accomplish anything useful."
"Wouldn't it be nice to rest while you have the chance?" Kuzan observed with mock sympathy, settling into another chair with exaggerated care. "I don't even get opportunities for proper medical leave..."
The comment earned him a withering stare that could have melted steel, but Smoker wisely chose not to respond to the obvious provocation.
"The base situation has been handled," Kuzan continued, shifting to more serious matters. "Reconstruction is underway, though it'll take months to restore full operational capacity."
His expression grew more contemplative as he delivered the intelligence briefing that had brought him here.
"We've managed to piece together most of what happened, and the picture isn't encouraging. This former Celestial Dragon slave isn't an ordinary criminal by any measure. Our intelligence files on him remain frustratingly incomplete, especially regarding his combat capabilities. The World Government dispatched investigative teams to his homeland, but they found virtually nothing useful."
Kuzan paused to organize his thoughts, choosing his words carefully. "His original kingdom has been gone for decades. They were once a member nation, but fell behind on their Heavenly Tribute payments and lost World Government protection. Without that shield, they were quickly consumed by civil wars and eventually became a non-member territory under Revolutionary Army control. Our agents can't safely infiltrate the region, and after so much time, no one remembers anything about the royal family's survivors."
The intelligence briefing painted a picture that raised more questions than it answered. Smoker shifted uncomfortably in his hospital bed, his analytical mind working through the implications with characteristic directness.
"When he became a Celestial Dragon slave, all records indicate he was powerless, just another broken royal from a fallen kingdom," Smoker said, his voice carrying the tough edge that never quite disappeared even when speaking to superiors. "After arriving in the Holy Land of Marijoa, there was no time or opportunity for him to develop these abilities. So how did he become so strong?"
The question hung in the air between them like an accusation. Despite his relatively modest rank, Smoker showed no deference to the Admiral's position, his tone carrying notes of challenge that would have been insubordination from anyone else.
Kuzan's expression darkened with frustration, his usual casual demeanor replaced by obvious irritation. "You're not the only one asking that question. No one has been able to develop a satisfactory explanation. The only theory that makes any sense is that he possessed considerable strength before his enslavement, that everything about his capture was an elaborate deception."
But even that hypothesis created logical problems that no one could adequately address. If Oboro had possessed such capabilities all along, why would he have allowed himself to be enslaved in the first place? Why endure years of systematic torture when he could have escaped at any time?
"Or..." Kuzan's voice dropped to a more ominous register, "he targeted the Celestial Dragons deliberately. Everything, his kingdom's fall, his enslavement, even his apparent helplessness, was an elaborate setup designed to get him close to his real targets."
The implications of that possibility sent chills through both officers. If true, it suggested a level of long-term planning and patience that bordered on inhuman. Who would endure years of brutal captivity for the sake of a single moment of revenge?
"What's your assessment of his combat abilities?" Kuzan asked, leaning forward with obvious interest.
As the only Marine to face the God Slayer in direct combat and survive to tell about it, Smoker's tactical analysis carried weight that no intelligence report could match.
"This man is dangerous," Smoker replied after a moment's consideration, his voice carrying the flat certainty of someone who had tested those dangers personally. "But not dangerous enough to justify the panic I'm seeing in the higher ranks."
He took a deep drag from his cigar, the familiar ritual seeming to center his thoughts. "At least, not yet."
Kuzan's eyebrows rose slightly at the qualified assessment. "Is that so..."
"I was careless," Smoker continued with characteristic bluntness. "If I'd fought smarter instead of letting emotion drive my tactics, the outcome might have been different."
"Careless?" Kuzan frowned, studying his subordinate's expression for signs of false bravado or wounded pride.
"I'm serious," Smoker insisted, meeting the Admiral's gaze without flinching. "I made tactical errors that any experienced officer should have avoided."
The honest self-assessment surprised Kuzan more than boastful denials would have. Smoker's reputation was built on relentless pursuit and stubborn determination, not careful analysis of his own mistakes. This level of introspection suggested the encounter had affected him more deeply than the physical injuries alone could explain.
"I apologize," Kuzan said finally, his tone becoming more formal as he delivered unwelcome news. "Many people in the command structure are extremely concerned about this situation. From the moment I arrived in Logue Town, responsibility for East Blue operations has been transferred to higher authorities. You're being relieved of this case."
Smoker's face immediately darkened, veins bulging on his forehead as his famous temper finally stirred to life. But before he could voice his obvious objections, Kuzan continued with quiet authority.
"I'll be the one hunting him down from now on," the Admiral stated flatly, his casual demeanor replaced by cold professionalism. "This isn't a joke or an administrative punishment. During the few days you've been unconscious, agents from the Four Emperors have already arrived in the East Blue. Honestly, I can barely imagine what's going to happen next."
The revelation hit Smoker like a physical blow, his prepared arguments dying in his throat as the full scope of the crisis became clear. The East Blue, his East Blue, was about to become a battleground between forces that could reshape the entire world.
"Otherwise, why do you think Vice Admiral Garp is here?" Kuzan gestured toward their sleeping companion with obvious significance.
The reminder drew both officers' attention to the legendary Marine Hero, who had somehow managed to fall asleep in his chair while holding half-eaten rice crackers. A snot bubble expanded and contracted with each breath, creating an almost comical contrast to his fearsome reputation.
Garp's presence wasn't really about Oboro himself, it was about the Four Emperors and the political earthquake that would follow if any of them successfully recruited the God Slayer. The old man represented the Marine's ultimate deterrent, the one figure whose reputation alone might discourage direct confrontation.
Kuzan slowly stood to leave, recognizing that his business here was essentially complete. But as he reached the door, one final question occurred to him.
"How did he manage to hurt you without using Haki?" he asked, turning back to face the bandaged colonel. "That technique he used, what was it exactly?"
Smoker considered the question carefully, his mind returning to those crucial moments when Oboro's seemingly gentle touch had bypassed all his defenses with devastating effectiveness.
"Air," he said finally, the single word carrying weight that transcended its simplicity.
"Air?" Kuzan's confusion was evident.
"I felt like compressed airflow entered my body somehow," Smoker explained, his voice growing more analytical as he recalled the sensation. "The muscles tensed with Tekkai couldn't stop it at all. It bypassed external defenses entirely and struck internal organs directly."
"A Devil Fruit ability?" Kuzan suggested, though his tone suggested skepticism.
"No," Smoker replied with absolute certainty. "I can't fully describe the sensation, but it didn't feel like any Devil Fruit power I've encountered. More importantly, while this technique could ignore Iron Body to some extent, if I'd reacted fast enough to transform into smoke beforehand, he wouldn't have been able to harm me."
He paused, considering additional details that might prove relevant to future encounters.
"By the way, he also demonstrated several Rokushiki techniques with perfect execution, despite claiming to have learned them through simple observation. His mastery of Soru in particular was flawless."
"Based on your encounter and other evidence we've gathered, we can confirm he arrived by sea rather than on the surface," Kuzan noted, answering the unspoken question about escape methods. "Whatever transportation he's using, it operates underwater."
The Admiral paused at the threshold, offering a final observation that carried both respect and warning.
"Get some rest, our hero. Even if you didn't capture him, the intelligence you've provided is invaluable."
As Kuzan's footsteps faded down the hospital corridor, Smoker was left alone with his thoughts and the sleeping form of the Marine's greatest legend. The God Slayer remained free, the East Blue was about to become a war zone, and somewhere in the depths of the ocean, forces were gathering that would test everything the Marines thought they knew about power and justice.
The game was entering its most dangerous phase, and the stakes had never been higher.