The sun hung lazily over Loguetown, casting long shadows across the bustling marketplace. Vendors barked out prices for fresh fish, polished weapons, and questionable "anti-Marine charms." Raven weaved through the crowd, a sack of groceries slung over his shoulder, the faint smell of saltwater still clinging to him from his morning training.
He had been pushing his Moa Moa no Mi to its limits all week — expanding and shrinking rocks, crates, and even barrels of water until his arms shook with exhaustion. His multiplier had plateaued at 10x, but each day he felt a little more in control. A little closer to something great.
The tranquility shattered when a scream rang out.
A group of armed men burst into the market square, shoving civilians aside. Their ragged clothes and mismatched weapons marked them as pirates — not the grand, infamous kind, but the desperate gutter-scum variety that preyed on easy targets.
"Clear out!" their leader barked. "We'll be takin' all your coin and—"
A figure dropped from the rooftops with a heavy thud, cutting the pirate off mid-threat.
He was tall, broad-shouldered, wearing a long white jacket draped over his shoulders like a cape. Twin cigars smoked between his teeth, and his eyes burned with the calm focus of a hunter.
Captain Smoker. The White Hunter of the Marines.
The pirates froze. Civilians scrambled for cover.
Raven stayed where he was, caught between curiosity and the sharp instinct telling him to leave. But when one of the pirates grabbed a nearby vendor's daughter and shoved a cutlass to her throat, Raven moved.
In a blur, he shrank the cutlass to the size of a toothpick with a touch — the pirate yelped in confusion — and Raven followed up with a solid kick that sent him sprawling.
Two more rushed him. Raven enlarged a wooden crate to the size of a small house, letting it drop between them with a crash, cutting off their advance. The crowd gasped.
That's when Smoker's gaze fell on him.
The captain strode over, ignoring the groaning pirates still on the ground. "That Devil Fruit of yours… interesting." His voice was gravelly, measured. "You're not with these clowns, are you?"
"No," Raven said, brushing dust from his clothes. "But I'm not a Marine either."
A small smirk tugged at the corner of Smoker's mouth. "Good. Let's see what you can do."
Before Raven could ask what he meant, Smoker's lower body dissolved into a swirl of white smoke and shot forward. Raven barely had time to leap aside, the impact of the strike cracking the cobblestones where he had been standing.
The fight was on.
Raven tried to keep his distance, enlarging a stone to block Smoker's advance, then shrinking it to trip him up. But Smoker was fast — faster than Raven expected for someone his size. Each time Raven moved, the Marine was already anticipating it, his smoke tendrils curling through the air like living things.
"You've got creativity, I'll give you that," Smoker said, reforming from a cloud just behind Raven. "But against a Logia, kid, that's not enough."
Raven swung a fist coated in desperation, enlarging it mid-punch for extra force — only to have it pass harmlessly through Smoker's smoke body. A moment later, a solid punch connected squarely with Raven's gut, knocking the wind out of him.
He stumbled back, gasping, and Smoker didn't press the attack. Instead, the captain simply stood there, smoke coiling lazily around him.
"You've got power. Instinct. And that fruit of yours? Dangerous in the right hands." Smoker's eyes narrowed. "But right now, you wouldn't last a day out there. Not against the real monsters."
Raven wiped blood from his lip, glaring despite the ache in his ribs. "Then I'll train until I can."
Smoker turned away, calling for his men to round up the remaining pirates. "Good. I'll be looking forward to the day you prove it."
And just like that, he was gone — leaving Raven alone in the wrecked marketplace, chest heaving, pride smarting. But beneath the frustration, something burned hotter than before.
If he wanted to stand on the seas… if he wanted to be more than a footnote in someone else's story…
He would have to become strong enough that even a Marine Captain couldn't brush him aside.
And that meant years of work.