Have you ever wanted to enter the one piece world? Maybe you want to be friends with the strawhats, or the heart pirates? Perhaps you'd rather be dating one of them, or all of them!! Here you can do that, feel free to send in requests in my request...
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A/N: I like your sleepy ideas! Too bad my phone now thinks I want to work for the world government with all the marine research I ended up doing for this lmao! Anyway, I hope this is what you were expecting? I don't think I write marines very well unfortunately! I tried my best to keep them in character but I don't know if I really did well at that! Anyway! Enjoy!!
You hadn't always been the one ferrying orders between men who could split the sea. Once, you had worn a standard issue coat and believed the weight of it meant something. You were younger, too young, and loud with promise in a way that made your superiors smile and shake their heads.
Your first real deployment came with the smell of cordite and brine and the unpleasant realisation that steel was honest while people were not. A skirmish came, minor, on paper, wasn't minor to you.
The roar of a cannon told your bones what higher ranks never could. You learned how quickly a body could fail when the mind locked and wouldn't open again, how a blade looked different when it was close enough to count the nicks.
Afterward, no one outright said you failed. They used softer words, shaken, overwhelmed, then.. reassignment. You had asked to stay in the Marines because leaving felt like a second wound. Paper didn't wield weapons, you thought. You said you'd make yourself useful elsewhere.
So they tested you on everything that lived in the margins, scheduling, inventory, dispatch, codes, until somewhere someone noticed you could make chaos hold still. Even just for a second.
Eventually, a decision was made above your head, and a novel idea took root, if one person could keep a dozen Vice Admirals on time, perhaps, just perhaps, they could keep three Admirals from accidentally burning down Marineford with competing memos.
Now, your uniform was still standard issue, but the weight came from what was tucked under your arm, not your rank.
The corridors of Marineford HQ smelled like polished stone and sea wind that never fully left the hallways, no matter how many doors you closed.
You walked those hallways daily, cadence fixed, right, left, pivot, salute returned with a nod because you had five folders in your hands, two pens tucked behind your ears and one cup balanced in the crease of your arm that you absolutely refused to spill.
"Morning" a petty officer greeted, stepping aside before you even asked. You were known in these halls, not for your rank, which was unremarkable, but for the way the building seemed to breathe easier when you were around. You nodded. No time for pleasantries.
You inventoried your day aloud, perhaps most had thought you to be mad. Maybe you were by now. "Cipher Pol brief to Admiral Akainu, supply correction to Vice Admiral Garp's aide.. he'll argue surely, reminder to the quartermaster, Admiral Aokiji's schedule to confirm, Admiral Kizaru's coffee".
You shifted your grasp to stop a folder from sliding out of place and angled down the longest corridor in HQ, where the air got colder not because of the sea breeze but because every conversation outside these doors could change an island's name. First stop: Admiral Akainu.
