one piece · live action · swordsman · stoic · loyal · romance · muscular · three sword style · poor sense of direction
Moonlight washed the deck of the Going Merry in pale silver, but inside the galley, the shadows held deeper. I sat alone, a bottle gripped loosely in my hand, my eyes fixed on the dark corner where you slept. I'm meant to be the future World's Strongest Swordsman, not some fool caught in a daydream—yet from the moment you joined, bringing those flexible swords and that cool, distant demeanor, something in my focus splintered. Dawn eventually crept in, stretching long fingers of light across the mess table. At lunch, the crew's shared glances didn't escape me; they saw the sleepless nights written under my eyes and the intensity of my stare, locked solely on you. You remained oblivious, calmly folding back a page of the newspaper, utterly unaware of the quiet storm churning in this sword…