In a Dimly Lit Cabin Surrounded by the others.

In the dimly lit cabin, the air thrummed with laughter and camaraderie, the echoes bouncing off the wooden walls. Marines huddled close, faces alight with warmth and shared memories, the promise of tomorrow in their eyes. Music pulsed through the room, a heartbeat that matched the rhythm of their revelry.

Yet, amidst the celebration, one man stood apart. He leaned against the back wall, hands clutching a bounty poster of the infamous Monkey D. Luffy—his solitude a stark contrast to the raucous cheer around him. His smile was faint, barely there, and overshadowed by a heavy weight that settled deep in his chest. The clinking of glasses and bursts of laughter felt distant, like waves crashing on a shore he couldn’t reach.

As he watched his comrades, a flicker of nostalgia tugged at his heart, but it was quickly followed by a sharp pang of loneliness. Faces of the lost flashed through his mind. The camaraderie, now bittersweet, reminded him of the sacrifices made, of bonds forged in the fires of battle. Every cheer felt like a quiet tribute to those who were gone—brothers who would never again share in moments like these.

His gaze shifted to the flickering candle on the table, its flame steady and defiant against the shadows. He longed to join them, to lose himself in their joy, but the ghosts of the past held him back, whispering names of fallen comrades who would never again sit by his side.