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: Oh my do I love this man! Thank you thank you thank you whenever he's requested ugh! This one was so difficult though, I tried to hard to not make him go ooc! Enjoy!!
You always arrived early because that was what good cadets did. The training yard at Headquarters was a rectangle of packed earth bordered by whitewashed barracks and the shadow of a justice banner that snapped whenever the wind swung around from the harbour. Dawn light washed everything pale, and boots thudded in unison.
Whistles cut the air like knives, and you lined up with the other young trainees, backs straight, chin tucked, belt notched exactly where regulation said it should be, you tried your best not to look at the clipboard in the marine's hand.
There were new recruits today, meaning more names to memorise, and another batch of elbows to drive into the mat. You had been here long enough to be known. The girl who followed rules, the one who asked for an extra round. You took pride in that order. In the neatness of effort, do the drill, earn the result. A clean equation.
When they brought the new kids through the gate, your eyes found him without meaning to. He stuck out like a sore thumb. White hair, clipped short, but it stuck up unruly anyway.
He wore a scowl, and stood like the ground annoyed him, feet planted, shoulders loose, hands in fists he didn't bother to hide. He was around your age, maybe, give or take a year, but he didn't look like the rest, no darting glances, no fidgeting, no nervous swallow when the marine's shadow fell over him.
He stared straight ahead, as if he'd decided long before he stepped onto the yard that nothing here would tell him who he was. "Recruits" the said marine barked. "You're not children, you're cadets. You will learn our code. You will learn to stand, move, and think as Marines. If that frightens you, the gate is behind you".
No one moved, and the white haired boy didn't even blink. They gave out wooden practice batons and paired people by height and weight. You knew where you'd be, front ring, eyes on you.
You rolled your shoulders, bounced on the balls of your feet once, kept your breath steady. When the pairings reached your line, a hand pointed at you, and then the older marine's chin tipped at the boy. "You and you. Ring three".
You nodded crisply, the boy didn't nod at all. Just stepped into the chalk circle without ceremony. "Ready" the marine called. You dropped into stance. The boy raised his baton a fraction late, lazy at the edges. "Begin".
You were first on the front foot, you always were, you had good form. Feint to the left, real strike to the ribs. He should have flinched, but he didn't. Your baton kissed linen and slid off muscle that turned away at the last instant.
He moved so easily, it was unpolished but efficient, no wasted motion. You pivoted to drive your shoulder into him and met empty air, he had already stepped through your guard, inside your reach, and your baton skittered off his forearm as he brought his weight down.
