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Smoker didn’t know how to dream. While boys his age dreamed of battles, feats, and any other opportunities to cover themselves with glory, Smoker was fixing his grandmother’s fence or punching Tom Hollick, a fourteen-year-old bully and troublemaker. By the age of ten, Smoker had no illusions about life. He simply woke up in the morning and started living. But today, even for Smoker, was an unusual day. News flew through the town, causing everyone to gather in local bars and discuss it until dawn. Golden Roger had been caught by the Marines and would be executed in the central square in a few days.
“Can you imagine, Smoker? We’ll see the King of the Pirates himself,” Hollick said with a gleeful smile, flashing the holes in his teeth and the fresh bruise under his eye — a gift from Smoker from just yesterday.
Smoker exhaled smoke rings and stubbed out his cigarette with his boot. He had only started smoking recently, out of curiosity.
“They won’t let kids in. My mother told me so,” replied snub-nosed Betty, secretly in love with Smoker.
“Corcky promised to get us a spot on the roof. The grocer owes him. He promised to let us up there,” said the big guy Bobby.
Everyone waited expectantly, staring at Smoker. Though he was the youngest in the group, most kids on the street had long recognized him as their leader. There was something fierce and dangerous about him. A reliability typical of adult men, but not of eleven-year-old boys.
“I want to look him in the eyes,” Smoker said, standing up. He had promised his grandmother to go to the market for fish.
The kids exchanged glances. Smoker also had that strange thirst for knowledge. His desire to read the whole book, not just be satisfied with the cover, was completely incomprehensible to the kids. Smoker was too mysterious, too mature for them.
“Garp, you’re still unusually thoughtful,” Sengoku remarked, sipping tea one evening in the hotel room the Marines had rented in Loguetown. “I hope you’re not thinking about helping Roger escape.”
Garp looked up at his friend and burst out laughing. “I’m just sad that such a man will die. Without him, our lives won’t be the same as before,” he replied. “And why would I help him escape?”
“Then who let him go away in Chrysler-G?”
“Ah, that. I lost at cards. A card debt is a debt of honor.”
“Pirates are nothing but cheats. Marines shouldn’t act that way.”
Garp waved his hand, almost spilling his tea. “You’re such a bore. I heard enough of this from you back then.”
“Who did you even play with?” Sengoku asked peacefully.
“With Rayleigh.”
“What?! He’s the worst card player. Even my five-year-old granddaughter would beat him.”
Garp laughed again. Sengoku smiled. It was impossible to stay mad at Garp for long.
“Well, I play even worse,” Garp said, choking on his laughter.
Sengoku also started laughing. Both tried to chase away the heaviness that had settled in their hearts with their laughter. Captain Gol D. Roger was a great man and did not deserve such a death.
The execution attracted the world's attention. Never before had the city experienced such an influx of tourists. Hours before the execution, the square was packed with people of all ages, faiths, and social standings. They eagerly awaited the appearance of the most legendary of pirates.
An hour before the execution, Garp came to Roger’s cell—to say goodbye.
“They all thirst for your blood,” he said. Even inside the prison walls, the cries from the city streets could be heard.
“They will get it,” Roger smirked.
“I truly am sorry,” Garp said quietly.
“Don’t be sorry, old friend. I have received everything from life, even much more.”
Garp nodded in agreement. Roger never regretted his past or deeds. That was his strength, his wisdom.
They lit cigars (though neither were smokers) and spent their last moments in silence. Everything that needed to be said had long been said. When the clock struck twelve, Garp said,
“It’s time.”
The Marines chained Roger and led him to the square. The crowd cheered upon seeing the King of Pirates. Shouts and whistles rained down on the heads of the Marines and the prisoner. But as soon as they stepped into the crowd, it instantly fell silent, hanging on Roger’s every step. Even on the brink of death, he radiated colossal power and authority. People feared to meet his gaze, as if the very attempt at such boldness could kill them.
The king of villains and dreamers slowly made his way to the scaffold. Suddenly, he stopped. His attention was drawn to a boy who suddenly jumped out of the crowd. Roger looked at the boy, who returned his gaze without any hesitation. Roger smiled and, leaning down sharply, whispered something into the boy’s ear. At first, the Marines were confused and didn’t react, but soon they recovered and pushed Roger forward, forcing him to proceed.
Garp’s eyes swept the crowd in surprise, catching sight of the boy’s white hair. Who was this boy? What had Roger told him?
But soon, Garp had to forget about the boy, as Roger delivered his famous speech that forever changed the world.
Smoker ran and ran. Through alleys, smoky streets, jumping over old furniture and wooden carts left on the road by townspeople. Behind him, about fifty steps back, the Marines were chasing. “Stop, boy!”
The Marines had a clear order from Vice Admiral Garp to catch the boy. But it wasn’t so easy. The little devil knew the city well, and the Marines kept losing sight of him. Their only advantage was endurance. The little boy couldn’t run forever from strong, trained men.
Smoker turned the corner and stopped. The Marines’ shouts were still behind him, but he was gasping for breath and completely exhausted. He had no idea what to do next. Suddenly, a voice caught his attention.
“Hey, kid, come here. I’ll hide you,” a young man in a quirky straw hat smiled at Smoker.
“Why do you want to help me?” Smoker frowned.
“I don’t like the Marines,” the stranger smiled.
Smoker had to trust him — the Marines were getting closer. The stranger opened his black cloak, and Smoker hid behind his back. A minute later, the Marines appeared around the corner.
“Where is he?”
“I was sure he ran this way.”
“Hey, guy, did you see a scrawny kid around here?”
“Yeah, he ran to the docks,” the stranger replied calmly. The Marines easily fell for the lie and rushed in the indicated direction.
“You can come out now — they’re far away.”
Smoker emerged from under the cloak and looked cautiously at the red-haired boy, who only smiled back.
“My name’s Shanks,” he introduced himself.
“Smoker.”
“Are you hungry?”
Smoker was about to shake his head but remembered he hadn’t eaten since morning. And he didn’t like to lie — he saw no point in it. Besides, for some unknown reason, he trusted the red-haired stranger. There was something in his eyes, his smile, that made Smoker feel safe near him. Years later, this ability — to see people through at first glance — would make Smoker a legend.
Smoker led Shanks to his secret spot, an attic of an old abandoned house. There, Shanks found many books, an old sofa, an armchair, and candles. After eating what was in Shanks’s backpack, Smoker looked at him questioningly.
“You want something from me, don’t you?”
Shanks smiled: “I wanted to invite you to join my pirate crew.”
Smoker stared at him in surprise. That was definitely not what he expected. “I’m only 11,” Smoker clarified.
“I won’t make you carry heavy loads,” Shanks replied calmly.
“Hm. I’m not going to become a pirate.”
“Being a pirate is great.”
“How many people are in your crew?”
Shanks thought for a moment. “With you, there will be two.”
“Are you an idiot?”
“I’m an optimist,” Shanks smiled.
“That’s the same thing.”
Shanks laughed. He liked Smoker — his seriousness, his mature insight, and his straightforwardness.
“What did Captain Roger tell you?”
Smoker smirked. “Aha. That’s the reason.”
“He was my captain.”
“He told me where the One Piece is hidden.”
“Seriously?”
Smoker nodded matter-of-factly, as if he knew the most important secret in the universe.
“And where is it?” Shanks asked.
Smoker made a theatrical pause, then whispered: “In your imagination.”
When Smoker ran back home, Shanks smiled for a long time, remembering the boy. Years later, Red-Haired Shanks, one of the Yonko, would often invite the legendary White Hunter to join his crew. But now, both were just boys — one living by a dream, and the other simply not knowing how to dream.
After wandering around the city, Smoker returned home. And there he was met with a very unpleasant surprise. His grandmother was drinking tea with Vice Admiral Garp.
“Oh, Smoker, look who came to visit us,” smiled his happy grandmother. She was a fan of Garp, collecting all kinds of newspaper clippings and neighborhood gossip about him.
Smoker frowned. “Hello,” he said politely—whenever the boy didn’t know what to do, he always behaved very politely. This habit would stay with him even twenty years later.
“And there you are. My guys were running all over town looking for you. You’re a fast one,” said Garp.
“Do you want to know what that mustached guy told me?” Smoker immediately decided to ask.
“That mustached guy,” Garp laughed loudly. “No one’s called him that before. But yeah, sure.”
“Why do you want to know?”
Garp shrugged. “I don’t know. It’s complicated.”
Garp looked carefully at the boy. The look in the boy’s eyes was exactly like his son’s: commanding, slightly arrogant, proud. This kid’s going far, Garp thought.
“The World Government fears that Roger might have some relatives left. And here you are. And Roger told you something.”
“I didn’t know him. And I’m no relative of his. Probably,” Smoker replied less confidently, glancing at his grandmother. She shook her head:
“Roger was an orphan and left the island early. He had no relatives here.”
“We’ve already checked that,” Garp said. “So, what did he tell you?”
“I’ll tell you, but only on one condition. You take me into service.”
Garp burst out laughing. What kind of guy sets conditions for the Vice Admiral himself?
“Aren’t you too young?”
“I’m 11,” Smoker replied calmly, as if the silly man didn’t understand that eleven years was more than enough.
“I’ll think about it when I hear what Roger told you.”
Smoker was silent for a moment, then finally decided to tell the truth. His grandmother covered her mouth in shock, and Garp started laughing uncontrollably, choking on his laughter and wiping away tears.
“And you want to become a Marine?”
“Not exactly,” Smoker answered. “But it’s the only option I have.”
“I understand.”
24 Years Later
Smoker surveyed the battlefield — the grass was stained crimson with spilled blood. His squad lay defeated; among the Mugiwara crew, only Zoro and Luffy remained standing, with Luffy hanging on the swordsman’s neck as his legs barely held him up. It had been a long time since Smoker had been so beaten. But the most important thing was that he was fighting alongside the Mugiwara crew again. It was becoming a habit.
“Smoky,” Luffy called.
The Vice Admiral turned, raising an eyebrow in question. Luffy tightly wrapped one arm around Zoro’s neck, while the other arm hung limply, stained with blood.
“You’d make an excellent pirate!” Luffy smiled, laughing softly. A couple of ribs were broken, and laughing fully was painful.
Smoker remained silent, stunned by Luffy’s words. This can’t be real! How can he... — thoughts swirled in his head.
“Zoro, I want to sleep,” Luffy quietly requested. Zoro immediately laid him down on the grass, where Luffy instantly passed out. The swordsman then collapsed to the ground as well. Smoker understood that Zoro was holding on purely by the strength of his spirit — for the sake of his captain.
Smoker spat out his cigar and turned to his subordinates:
“Get up, you idiots. I know you’re faking it.”
At first, there was silence, then the Marines began to stir and one by one got up from the ground. They wore guilty expressions, but Smoker only smiled at their pretense.
“Hey, Smoker, we were just knocked out by the explosion!”
“Smoker, what are we going to do with the Mugiwara?”
“Leave them be. Let them rest. We need to report the Vice Admiral’s betrayal to headquarters,” Smoker answered.
“I suggest we say the Mugiwara cunningly tricked us and escaped,” one of the Marines proposed.
“Why?” Smoker asked, surprised.
“Vice Admiral, we don’t want you to get in trouble or be exiled somewhere.”
“Do you think there’s a worse unit in the Marines than this one?” Smoker asked.
The Marines sighed.
“We don’t think so.”
“Then, all aboard the ship. Take Tashigi with you.”
While the Marines argued among themselves about who would carry the fine captain, Smoker finished his cigar and lit another. Suddenly, he was called.
“Smoky,” the little doctor called him. He held bandages and looked at the Vice Admiral with tears in his eyes. Smoker remembered how he had treated wounds for him and his men, unafraid of explosions and sword strikes.
“Thank you,” Chopper said, wiping his tears.
Smoker crouched down so that their eyes were level.
“Aren’t we friends?” Smoker smiled.
Chopper blushed and tapped the Vice Admiral’s shoulder with his hoof.
“Dummy! Your words don’t cheer me up at all!! Get lost!”
Smoker patted Chopper’s hat, stood up, and left. The doctor returned to his nakama, muttering under his breath:
“My friend is a Marine Vice Admiral. Hee-hee!”
On his way to the ship, Smoker met Shanks’s crew. He wasn’t surprised. Shanks often helped the Mugiwara. Something connected them.
“You have the audacity to stroll around here?” Smoker growled. “I’ll arrest you.”
Shanks smiled, ignoring the Vice Admiral’s words:
“Smoker, join my crew.”
“No,” Smoker waved him off.
Shanks frowned.
“Ben, how many times have I invited him to the crew?”
“27th.”
“It’s okay, on the 32nd time he’ll say ‘Yes,’” Shanks smiled.
“You’re optimistic, Captain,” Ben snorted.
“Exactly what I’m thinking.”
Smoker ran, pushing his way through the dense crowd. He wanted to see Gold Roger, the legendary man. Finally, he reached the edge and stepped forward. Right in front of him stood Gol D. Roger. Smoker lifted his head and met intelligent brown eyes. For several seconds, they stared at each other without looking away, then Roger leaned down and whispered into the boy’s ear:
“You'll make an excellent pirate!”
Later, thinking over the words of the Pirate King, Smoker realized that he was right. He really would become a first-class pirate. So there was only one thing left to do — to join the Marines.