The days in Loguetown soon started to feel like one long repeat.
Smoker got up, walked the same hallways, sat behind the same desk. He gave out the same orders. No one questioned him.
They didn't have to. He was Captain Smoker.
Civilians moved out of his way. The Marines followed his lead without hesitation. He had strength and authority.
But inside, he was tired.
He hadn't come to this world just to sit around doing paperwork.
Back in his old life—he'd spent life behind a desk already. Always working toward something stupid.
It had drained him. He remembered staring at computer screen, clicking through endless tabs.
When he found himself in this new world, he thought things would be different. He'd do Something worth the second chance.
But here he was again, stuck in routine.
Every morning, Tashigi brought coffee and reports. She'd knock twice, then walk in with a nervous look, even though he'd never yelled at her.
She reminded him of the assistants he used to work with—those who kept everything working. She'd make a good secretary, he thought.
But her updates were always the same. Patrols. Dock complaints. Minor pirate sightings. Nothing important.
Everything ran too smoothly.
It had the same feel as a conference call with no agenda—just people talking to fill the time, the tick of the clock louder than the conversation.
Then, one morning, something changed.
Tashigi came in like usual, glasses slightly bent, papers in her hand. But there was something different in her voice.
"Captain," she said, "a message just came in from Marine Headquarters. It's a voluntary dispatch."
Smoker looked up. "Voluntary?"
"Yes, sir. The Kingdom of Alabasta. There's a rebellion. People are starting to turn on the king. Nothing major yet, but HQ wants Marines in place early. They're not sending anyone directly—it's open to whoever wants to go."
She placed the paper on his desk.
Smoker leaned back in his chair and read it. A simple notice:
Unrest in Alabasta. Assistance requested. Priority: Low.
Voluntary deployment. Officer discretion.
That was it. No red stamp. No orders.
Just an invitation.
In the original story, Smoker hadn't gone to Alabasta until Luffy showed up. Maybe that version of him saw this notice and ignored it.
But this version? He wasn't about to sit around for another year waiting for something to happen.
That's how it had been before—doing nothing while time slipped by. This wasn't what he wanted from his second life.
This was a chance to move. A reason to get off the base.
He tapped the paper and looked up. "Prepare the warship."
Tashigi blinked. "Sir?"
"I'm taking the assignment."
"You mean… we're going to Alabasta?"
"Yeah. Pack your things. We leave tomorrow."
She stood straighter, like she wasn't sure whether to be nervous or excited. "Understood."
---
The next morning, their warship was ready. The sails were raised, the crew lined up in disciplined rows.
It wasn't flashy—Just big, solid, and well-armed.
They quietly left Loguetown, under a clear sky.
Smoker stood at the bow, coat fluttering on his bare chest, cigars lit, and eyes on the horizon. The sea stretched wide ahead of them.
Tashigi walked the deck, giving instructions, and checking supplies. She didn't say much unless she had to, but the crew listened. Even the older sailors respected her.
She was clumsy sometimes, but she got things done.
That afternoon, she joined him at the bow with a small map. "Next stop is Reverse Mountain," she said. "We'll get an eternal log pose to Alabasta at the checkpoint."
Smoker nodded. "Good."
Getting to Reverse Mountain wasn't simple.
At first, the sea was calm. But as they neared the Red Line, everything started to shift. The current pulled harder, and the ship began to rise.
"Why is the sea going up!?" one of the sailors shouted, grabbing onto a barrel.
"Is this normal!?" another yelled.
The ship climbed the current like it was riding a wave up a mountain. The walls of water crashed around them. But the stream held them steady.
"Brace for the top!" Tashigi shouted.
Everyone held on tight.
At the peak of reverse mountain, everything went still for a moment. The sea leveled. The wind paused.
Then they dropped.
The ship plunged down the other side—straight into the Grand Line.
Everything changed.
The sky was brighter. The clouds looked strange, like they were alive. The wind felt different. The sea itself had a kind of energy, like it was watching them.
This wasn't the same ocean.
This was the Grand Line.
Smoker blew on his cigar, he looked much more relaxed. Like something had finally clicked back into place.
At the bottom of the mountain, a small Marine checkpoint waited.
One young officer stepped forward with a log pose in hand. "Alabasta is southwest," he said. "You'll pass a few islands along the way. The weather's unpredictable. So, uh, good luck."
Smoker took the log pose without a word and turned back to the ship.
They sailed without delay.
Each day brought a new island. One had a volcano in the middle of a forest. Another looked like a giant cactus made of stone.
The crew talked about how weird it all was, but Smoker didn't stop. He didn't care about sightseeing. He was here to move forward, not get distracted.
Then finally—land ahead.
A long stretch of yellow sand. Dunes like waves. The sun reflected off the stone like glass.
Alabasta.
The air here was hot and dry, the kind of heat that sucked water out of your skin. The sky was wide and blue, with no clouds in sight.
They were close now.
Smoker stood at the front of the ship, arms crossed, watching the desert coast grow larger.
He didn't know what was waiting for him there. But whatever it was, it had to be better than more paperwork.
Tashigi stepped beside him, holding the log pose. "We should reach the harbor by noon."
He gave a low grunt. "Good."
She hesitated, then asked, "Do you think this is the right call? I mean… Crocodile is here. This is his turf."
Smoker didn't look away from the shore. The heat shimmered in the distance like glass.
"I don't know," he said. "But I was dying of boredom back there."
Tashigi let out a small laugh—just a quiet one, but it was real. "I see."
They stood side by side, watching as the golden coast got closer.
High above, a dark shape circled in the sky. A vulture, flying lazy loops in the heat. If you looked close, you'd notice something strange—a tiny hat on its head, and a pair of sunglasses on its eyes.
Smoker watched the bird circle high above the ship. "That's not a normal vulture."
Tashigi looked up too, squinting into the sunlight. "You think it's watching us?"
"Yeah," he said, eyes narrowed. "Feels like it."
It wasn't just flying around for food. It kept circling them. That didn't sit right with him.
"Could be connected to the rebellion," he added. "Or maybe something else. Hopefully, we're just reading too much into it, and it flies off once we're docked in Alabasta."
He didn't know the reason yet—but his instincts told him this bird wasn't just a scavenger. It had purpose. Like it had picked them out for some reason.
Advanced chapters ahead on patréon
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