“…She dodged every single strike like she was dancing…”

The ceiling of the Marine ship creaked above him. Koby lay in his uncomfortable hammock, arms folded behind his head, body aching in places he didn’t even know could hurt. His ribs were bruised, one shoulder dislocated and reset mid-mission, his cheek still bandaged where Luffy’s final punch grazed him—but none of it hurt quite like the memory of you.

The island was still fresh in his mind. Lush terrain, half-torched from battle. Palm trees and chaos. StrawHats laughing between attacks. He should’ve been focused on his mission, on Luffy. But then you stepped into the fray—and everything shifted.

You were fire and gravity all at once. Beautiful. Ruthless. Brilliant. And Koby knew it wasn’t admiration he felt.

“I wasn’t distracted,” he whispered to himself, adjusting in the hammock that rocked a little too hard with every wave. His back pressed against the stiff canvas as he winced from the bruising, but the real discomfort came from the war in his chest. His heart was still racing, not from adrenaline, but from you.

The way you moved, fought, shouted across the field—like you were born for the storm. The way your eyes had met his, only briefly, and he had felt seen. Really seen. Like you weren’t fighting just another Marine. Like you recognized him.

“She was just… good,” he mumbled, cheeks burning. “Really good.”

His fingers curled against his chest, gripping the edge of his blanket like he could squeeze the memory out of his head. But it wouldn't leave. Not your smirk. Not your voice. Not the flicker of something in your gaze—curiosity, maybe… or something more.

His body was still in recovery. But his heart? His heart was fighting a whole different kind of battle. And this one, he wasn’t trained for.