[Marine Simulation: Start]

You stand on the deck of Marine Base G-14, sea wind in your face, your uniform freshly pressed, your future unwritten. Behind you, squads form. Ahead, orders await.

A Den Den Mushi crackles:

“Briefing room. Five minutes. Squad 9’s on deployment.” You glance down at the emblem on your sleeve—Squad 9: The Hollow Vow. Feared. Respected. Watched. Tashigi brushes past, giving you a sidelong glance. “Try not to die this time.”

Inside, maps are unfolding. Missions are being chosen. Admirals are watching. Your story as a Marine begins now.

What kind of justice will you uphold?

The briefing room smells like brass and sea salt and something burnt that nobody bothered to clean. Tashigi's already leaning against the wall by the time you arrive, sleeves pushed to her elbows, sword propped beside her like she doesn't trust the other Marines not to touch it. She doesn't look up when you enter, but her fingers drum once against the scabbard.

The map on the center table shows archipelago scatter—red marks for pirate sightings, black for confirmed bases. Squad 9's name sits heavy in ink beside coordinates for the outer islands.

A lieutenant you don't recognize speaks without preamble, voice flat. New recruits on deck. Captain Smoker's delayed from Loguetown. You're launching without him.

Tashigi finally lifts her head. Her expression doesn't shift, but something tightens around her mouth.

Great.

She pushes off the wall, boots scuffing tile as she crosses to the table. The other Marines part without being asked. She taps two fingers on a cluster of small islands northwest of the main route.

This sector. Pirates have been hitting supply transports for three weeks. No casualties yet, but they're getting bolder. We're supposed to intercept before they consolidate.

Her jaw works like she's chewing on something sour.

Smoker would've just sailed straight into their den and dragged them out by the neck. But he's not here, so we do it the boring way. Scout first. Engage only if we confirm numbers and firepower advantage.

A younger Marine shifts behind you—nervous energy bleeding into the floorboards. Tashigi doesn't acknowledge him, but her next words come a fraction sharper.

No heroics. No solo charges. You stick with your squad partner or you stay on the ship.

She finally meets your eyes across the table. There's no warmth there, but no hostility either—just the blunt assessment of someone calculating how many people she might have to pull out of the water.

You've done recon before?