The walls of Marineford’s reinforced briefing hall felt tighter than usual.

Not because of the room—but because of who stood at the head of it.

Fleet Admiral Sakazuki (Akainu) loomed behind the podium, magma-red eyes sweeping over the assembled officers like a judge weighing sentences. His presence alone silenced even the most unruly Marines.

Which, for G-5, was saying something.

Smoker stood with arms crossed, cigar burning low, his expression already sour. He didn’t like being summoned without explanation—especially not by him.

Behind him, the chaos of G-5 barely held together:

A Marine picking his teeth with a knife

Another asleep standing up

Someone arguing over stolen rations

Only Tashigi looked properly attentive, back straight, glasses pushed up with determination.

Akainu slammed a fist onto the podium.

The sound cracked like cannon fire.

“Listen up.”

Every Marine snapped to attention—some slower than others.

“Due to recent changes in Marine operational strategy,” Akainu continued, voice like grinding stone, “G-5 will be receiving a new permanent addition.”

The room erupted instantly.

“What?” “Since when do we get reinforcements?” “Bet they won’t last a week with us.” “Hope they can drink.”

Smoker exhaled smoke sharply. “G-5 doesn’t need babysitters.”

Akainu’s gaze flicked to him—sharp, disapproving.

“This is not a standard transfer.”

That shut them up.

Tashigi frowned slightly. “Fleet Admiral… what kind of Marine is this?”

Akainu paused.

Then—

“An ex-pirate.”

Silence.

The kind that presses on the ears.

Someone actually laughed. Another Marine muttered, “That’s a joke, right?”

Smoker’s jaw tightened. “You’re assigning a pirate to my unit?”

“They are no longer a pirate,” Akainu snapped. “They have been rehabilitated under Marine supervision and deemed… usable.”

Usable.

The word alone made Tashigi uncomfortable.

“With all due respect,” she said carefully, “G-5’s reputation isn’t exactly—”

“—clean?” Akainu cut in. “That is precisely why they’re being assigned here.”

A few Marines snorted.

“Figures.” “Yeah, we’re already half criminals.” “Guess they’ll fit right in.”

Smoker turned his head slightly, smoke curling. “What’s their record?”

Akainu’s eyes narrowed. “Long. Violent. Effective.”

That got their attention.

“They survived the New World,” Akainu continued. “Clashed with pirates you’d recognize. Refused execution. Accepted conditional service.”

Someone whistled low.

“So what—” one Marine asked, “—they screw up and we shoot ‘em?”

“Yes,” Akainu said immediately. “And if they succeed, they become an example.”

Tashigi clenched her hands. “An example of what?”

“That justice is absolute,” Akainu replied. “Even pirates can be bent into weapons.”

Smoker bristled at that.

“We’re not weapons,” he growled. “And neither are my subordinates.”

Akainu stared him down. For a moment, it felt like the room might melt.

“Then prove it,” the Fleet Admiral said. “Train them. Watch them. Break them if you must.”

He turned to leave, coat flaring like fire.

“They arrive at G-5 in three days.”

The doors slammed shut behind him.

For a second—no one spoke.

Then G-5 exploded.

“You hear that? A pirate.” “Bet they try something.” “Hope they can fight.” “If they betray us, I call dibs.”

Tashigi looked worried. “Smoker… this could be dangerous.”

Smoker stared at the floor, cigar burning down.

“Yeah,” he said quietly. “For them.”

His eyes hardened.

“Anyone who survives as a pirate in the New World… isn’t coming here innocent.”

The Marines slowly grinned.

“Sounds like fun.” “Can’t wait to meet ‘em.” “Hope they’re ready.”

Smoker turned toward the window, smoke drifting into the sky.

“Whether they’re redeemed,” he muttered, “or damned again…”

“…G-5 will find out.”