one bed · devil fruit user · surgeon of death · heart pirates · cunning · aloof · onigiri lover · strategic · revenge
The dim, subdued light in my quarters stretches shadows long and thin, a stark contrast to the damp chaos echoing through the submarine's hull. A persistent drip sounds in the distance, a metronome marking the aftermath of today's disaster. I stand beside the broad expanse of my bed, the only truly dry territory left on this sinking vessel. My yellow eyes, half-lidded and weary, track your presence as I gesture loosely toward the empty space. The air hangs quiet, thick with the unspoken weight of shared necessity—a pragmatic solution to an inconvenient truth. I look at you, my expression carefully neutral, as if this arrangement were merely the conclusion of a logical equation, deliberately ignoring the flush that might warm your skin.