One piece: Dark Smoker

Smoker flew through the air using Geppo when he suddenly noticed a plume of white smoke rising in the distance.

It was Hina, using her Observation Haki and abilities to signal his arrival.

Guided by the signal, Smoker landed on the beach where Zeon lay unconscious, her face pale as Hina stood guard by her side.

As Smoker touched down, Hina hurried over to him, immediately inspecting the gashes on his chest.

"Smoker, are you okay? Was that attack meant for us?" Her voice was filled with guilt and worry.

Smoker shrugged it off, his tone casual.

"It's nothing serious," he said. "You know my powers—if I'm not dead yet, I won't be dying anytime soon."

Hina gave him a slightly exasperated look. "Uh... right."

Without further discussion, Smoker used his ability to absorb the damage from his wounds. Once healed, the two walked over to check on Zeon.

Zeon lay sprawled on the sand, her body covered in wounds.

Her arms were particularly battered, with one bandaged injury still oozing blood. Her once blue-and-white uniform was soaked in crimson, and her face was ghostly pale from severe blood loss.

Smoker sighed deeply. "Honestly, her condition is way more concerning than mine."

Hina glanced at him hesitantly. "Smoker, can you... heal her too?"

Smoker frowned, his expression contemplative.

"She fought Doflamingo, so it's clear they're enemies for now. But who knows what their relationship was before? What if their cooperation went deeper than we think?"

He looked at Zeon with skepticism.

"Right now, we have a common enemy in Doflamingo, so she's working with us. But if we heal her and she turns on us to steal the evidence, we'd be in trouble. We can't rule that out."

Hina gripped Zeon's cold hand tightly, her expression resolute.

"No matter what, Zeon has always looked out for me. I can't just stand by and do nothing. Smoker, please... save her."

Her pleading tone softened Smoker's resolve. With a sigh, he relented.

"All right. Move aside."

Smoker summoned his dark energy, letting it envelop Zeon as it worked to heal her wounds. The process took time, but eventually, the darkness faded, and Smoker exhaled deeply.

**She was in rough shape,** he thought. **Stubborn to the core—tenacious at best, reckless at worst.**

Zeon's injuries were now gone, though she remained unconscious, her face still pale from exhaustion and blood loss.

"I've absorbed her injuries and pain," Smoker explained. "But she lost a lot of blood and her body's drained. She'll need to rest for a while longer."

He glanced at Hina. "Letting her recover naturally is probably better in the long run—less strain on her spirit and on me."

Hina nodded gratefully. "This is more than enough. Thank you."

Smoker stood and glanced toward the forest.

"There's a town on this island, but it's too far for Zeon to travel in her condition. We'll have to camp here for the night."

He started walking toward the beach.

"You stay with her. I'll take care of some loose ends."

At the shoreline, Smoker released a wave of darkness over the sand. A pink flamingo-themed ship was pulled out of the shadows, along with dozens of pirates who fell onto its deck, confused and disoriented.

Before they could process what was happening, Smoker attacked, quickly incapacitating them all.

Once they were subdued, he conjured several translucent spheres, each brimming with the pain he had absorbed earlier.

Tossing the spheres at the pirates, the deck erupted into cries of agony as the pain overwhelmed them.

When silence returned, the pirates were left writhing and barely conscious. Smoker nodded in satisfaction before sealing them back into the darkness.

In the past, his approach to captured pirates had been brutally straightforward: those with bounties were handed to the base, while those without were thrown into the sea to feed the fish.

But his encounters with Doflamingo's slave trade had given him new ideas.

Smoker detested the slave system—one of the most corrupt institutions in the pirate world. As a modern-minded outsider, it repulsed him.

Yet, he understood the harsh reality. With the world's current state of production and his limited resources, dismantling the system was impossible.

**If you can't destroy it, adapt to it.**

Smoker had reached a grim realization: he could "recycle" pirates by turning them into slaves, filling the market's demand.

Bounties represented the threat a pirate posed to the government. Those without bounties often committed heinous crimes but were overlooked by authorities, becoming "invisible" threats.

Smoker had once considered such pirates useless waste. Now, he saw potential.

"Why waste them?" he muttered to himself.

For most pirates, death was too merciful. Turning them into slaves was, in his view, a more fitting punishment.

The idea was grim but practical: let these pirates die slowly under the torment of slavery, day by day.

Compared to ordinary civilians, pirates had stronger bodies and were far more capable.

Every pirate enslaved meant one fewer innocent civilian suffering the same fate.

If that's the case, why not? Besides, it was a chance to profit—though Smoker convinced himself this wasn't about money.

**Justice doesn't profit, right?**

After dealing with the pirates, Smoker prepared a few rooms on the ship, and the three of them settled in for the night.

Zean slept through until the next day.

Had she not explicitly ordered no one to contact her, the battleship would likely have come looking for her by now.

As morning arrived, Zean's eyelids twitched, and she slowly opened her eyes.

The moment she became aware, she sat up abruptly, scanning her surroundings and checking her body, particularly her arm.

When she saw her injuries were completely gone, her expression turned to disbelief.

Hearing the commotion, Smoker and Hina entered the room.

Hina stepped forward quickly. "Zean, are you all right?!"

Zean nodded, her voice urgent. "Where are we? What happened to Doflamingo?!"

Smoker lit a cigarette and took a deep drag.

"This is Doflamingo's pirate ship. I've seized it," he said calmly.

"As for him, he escaped. We only managed to capture some of his crew and subordinates."

Zean sighed in relief but pressed on. "And the thing we were looking for?"

Smoker exhaled smoke as he responded, "The item I needed is secured. As for what you're after, it's probably somewhere on this ship. Since you were still out cold, we didn't search the ship without you."

Hearing this, Zean struggled to her feet.

"Then what are we waiting for? Let's find it!"

To her, the recording Den Den Mushi was like a death sentence. Every minute it remained intact was a minute she couldn't relax.

Unsteady but determined, Zean rushed toward the captain's cabin.

Earlier, Diamante had revealed the location of the Den Den Mushi, and Smoker hadn't held back the information, telling her directly.

In the cabin, Zean quickly spotted the corner of the room where a wall panel concealed a safe.

She removed the panel, revealing the contents: confidential documents, property deeds, contracts, maps, and multiple Den Den Mushi.

It was clearly a treasure trove of Doflamingo's years of illicit dealings.

Smoker and Hina entered the cabin behind her, but Zean ignored them as she sifted through the safe.

Her hands moved frantically until she found the recording Den Den Mushi, her name inscribed clearly on its surface.

Her face darkened as she clenched her teeth and activated the snail.

Its eyes opened, and a halting recording began to play:

"...The North Blue is too fragmented... We... must dominate it..."

"...This money... it's only the first batch... If we keep working together, the profits will grow..."

"...I can promise you, no harm will come to your nation... Think it over."

"...Colonel Zean, to a successful partnership! Click."

The recording ended.

Smoker and Hina exchanged uneasy glances, their expressions guarded.

The fragmented dialogue hinted at a much deeper collaboration than Zean would likely admit.

Zean, on the other hand, was livid, grinding her teeth in frustration.

That bastard Doflamingo had deliberately distorted the recording to make their negotiation for eradicating underground forces sound like a plan to control the North Blue.

If this recording reached Navy Headquarters, even if it wasn't enough to convict her, it would certainly destroy her career.

But her expression softened as she remembered something: this was a specialized recording Den Den Mushi. Its recordings were unique and could not be duplicated.

Relieved, she clutched the snail tightly.

Seeing Smoker's gaze on the snail, Zean's heart tightened. She snatched it closer to her chest.

"Thanks for your help," she said quickly. "But this Den Den Mushi is my responsibility. I'll handle it myself."

These specialized snails were tough, with strong defenses and life spans. Destroying one required special methods.

Smoker narrowed his eyes, the embers of his cigarette glowing faintly.

His orders from the higher-ups were clear: investigate Zean.

This snail was crucial evidence.

Taking another drag, Smoker extinguished his cigarette underfoot.

"Zean, you played that recording right in front of us," he said dryly. "Aren't you worried we'll report you?"

Zean's grip tightened, her gaze sharpening dangerously.

"You heard it because I couldn't stop you. But as long as I'm alive, no one else will hear it."

"Ah, but I've already heard it," Smoker replied with a faint smirk.

"And you heard—"

Before she could finish, a voice interrupted.

Zean froze, her whole body stiffening.

Turning mechanically toward the door, her eyes widened in shock.

A tall, imposing figure stood there, looking at her with a half-smile.

"Z-Z-Z... Zephyr-sensei?!" she stammered, her voice almost a squeak.