Time: Sea Calendar, Year 1517.
Location: The East Blue.
Across a stretch of placid, mirror-like water, a gargantuan vessel glided forward. It was a Marine warship of immense proportions, its towering masts draped in sails bearing the "Seagull and Scales" crest—the emblem of Absolute Justice.
Rows of heavy cannons lined its hull, ready to unleash thunder.
On the expansive deck, an old man lay sprawled in a lounge chair. He was a giant of a man, with hair and beard as white as seafoam, a chest like a barrel, and muscles that seemed carved from granite.
He was deep in a nap, his hands tucked behind his head, snoring rhythmically. A large snot bubble expanded and contracted from his right nostril with every breath.
Suddenly, a stray East Blue breeze wafted across the deck, popping the bubble. The old man jerked awake, blinking blearily at the passing scenery. Without missing a beat, he reached for a small side table, grabbed a donut, and shoved it whole into his mouth.
Chewing loudly and without a shred of decorum, he looked toward a nearby officer. "Smoker," he grunted, his voice muffled by dough. "Are we at the 16th Branch yet?"
A Marine Headquarters-class warship was a rare sight in the East Blue, often ridiculed as the "Weakest Sea." This particular voyage served a dual purpose:
it was a ride home for the legendary Marine Hero, Garp, who was headed for vacation, and a transport for Headquarters Captain Smoker and his men, who were being reassigned to the "Town of Beginnings and Endings"—Loguetown.
The itinerary also included a detour to the 16th Branch.
"Almost there, Vice-Admiral Garp."
The man addressed as Smoker stood nearby, looking more like a street thug than a high-ranking officer. He wore a custom biker jacket with "Justice" emblazoned on the back instead of the standard-issue white cape.
A pair of goggles hung around his neck, and two thick cigars were clamped firmly between his teeth. His silver-grey hair was cropped short, and his open jacket revealed a rugged, scarred torso.
Smoker watched as Garp finished his snack, muttered a lazy, "Wake me when we're there," and promptly fell back into a deep sleep. A vein throbbed in Smoker's temple. Even Fleet Admiral Sengoku struggled to keep Garp in line; what hope did a mere Captain have?
Exhaling a cloud of thick smoke, Smoker opened a military dossier. It contained the profile of the man they were here to investigate.
Name: Dandé
Age: 23
Origin: East Blue (Orphan)
Position: Base Commander, East Blue 16th Branch
Rank: Marine Headquarters Captain
Evaluation: Once a prodigy of the Marine Headquarters Training Camp. Possesses extraordinary talent in swordsmanship. After only two and a half years of training, he was exceptionally promoted to Captain. However, after a fallout with a superior, he was reassigned to the East Blue. Since then, he has spiraled into mediocrity. His will has vanished, and his strength is suspected to have stagnated. Over the past seven years, he has recorded zero notable merits or combat achievements.
Note: Headquarters suspects this individual of colluding with pirates and betraying the principles of Justice. The Inspectorate is ordered to conduct a thorough investigation.
Pinned to the side was a photograph. The man in the picture had dark hair, deep-set eyes, and a sharp, well-defined jawline. Even in a static image, he radiated an air of effortless confidence and charm.
"Is this Captain Dandé? He doesn't look like someone who would work with pirates," a voice chirped from behind him.
Smoker's adjutant, Master Chief Petty Officer Tashigi, leaned in to get a look. She wore simple glasses and a plaid shirt—looking more like a studious neighbor than a soldier—save for the elegant katana, Shigure, strapped to her hip.
"I've heard he was already a master swordsman years ago," she added, adjusting her glasses. "Maybe Headquarters made a mistake?"
"Quiet," Smoker snapped, removing the cigars from his mouth. "As a Marine, never judge a person by their face."
He stared at the photo. Seven years of silence from a supposed prodigy. A sudden transfer from the 315th Branch to the 16th. It didn't add up. What was this man playing at?
And then there was the "Moke Pirate Crew"—a group that Dandé constantly used as a justification for more funding, yet somehow never managed to capture.
"We're here!" Tashigi's voice broke his train of thought.
On the horizon, the silhouette of the 16th Branch base emerged through the mist. Smoker looked from the island to the dossier one last time.
"Dandé," he muttered. "What are you hiding?"
The Conomi Islands.
In the town of Cocoyasi—formerly Cocoyasi Village—a crowd had gathered at the newly built docks.
"Captain Dandé is here! He's back!"
"And Nami! Nami's back too!"
"You idiot, call her Chief Petty Officer Nami now! She's finally made something of herself. If Bell-mère could see her now... I really thought she'd be a thief forever. Quick, go get Mayor Nojiko!"
As the Marine vessel docked, a group stepped onto the pier to a roar of cheers. Leading them was a man with black hair, dressed in a crisp white Marine suit draped with a black fur-trimmed overcoat.
A blade hung at his side. He walked with a relaxed stride, a faint smile playing on his lips as he greeted the townspeople.
"Hey! Who are you calling a thief?" Nami yelled, shaking a fist at her neighbors. She was dressed in a white shirt and a black mini-skirt, her orange hair catching the sunlight. Despite her feigned anger, her eyes sparkled with pride.
A year ago, she had been a captive of the Arlong Pirates. Now, she was a Marine officer. The village she grew up in had transformed from a collection of struggling huts into a bustling, prosperous town.
She stole a glance at the man walking beside her—the man who had changed everything. She hesitated, then leaned in and whispered, "Hey... thanks."
Dande stopped and looked at her, confused. "Thanks? For what?"
He realized what she meant and waved a hand dismissively. "It's just a Chief Petty Officer rank. Over in Shells Town, some brat's father is a Marine, and he's got soldiers looking after his pet dogs. If I had a dog, I'd have found a way to put it on the Headquarters payroll by now."
He didn't care about the rules. In a world governed by the World Government and the Celestial Dragons, using Marine resources to help good people—or even a talented "thief"—was far better than letting that money rot in some noble's pocket.
Nami's jaw dropped. Her heartwarming moment was instantly incinerated by his bluntness. "Who are you calling a dog?!" she barked, planting her hands on her hips.
Before she could launch into a full tirade, a voice smooth with amusement interrupted them.
"Boss, Mayor Nojiko is here."