Chapter Text
Nami was infuriated. She was so red in the face that it almost overpowered her Charlotte Tilbury blush. She was so mad that she hadn’t even realized that her crush had walked up to her.
“Nami, are you alright?” Vivi asked, a hand on Nami’s back as her blue hair fell over her shoulder.
She whipped around, orange hair smacking her hot cheeks. Embarrassed, she looked down, still fuming.
“This new girl came up to me and yelled at me.” Nami admitted, refusing to look in Vivi's eyes.
“What did she say?” the girl prompted, hoping for more of an answer.
“She asked if my hair was natural!! As if gingers weren't natural!” Vivi bit her lip to avoid a smile. She had heard that one before.
Of course, Vivi's hair was more of a stretch than Nami’s, but the question was still annoying.
“And before she asked me, she yelled ‘Hey you!’ as if she didn't know who I was!” Nami continued to ramble, even as Vivi held back a snort. “How could she not know who I am?? Everybody knows me. I am NOT a ‘hey you!’ The audacity-!” Nami growled, while Vivi laughed softly. “You know-”
Suddenly, the hallway got quiet and the chatter, rustle, and conversations stopped. Nami turned around to see what had hushed them. It was too early to be the principal, right?
Footsteps echoed across the hall and most everyone gaped. A new kid, one Nami had never seen before, walked down the hallway.
Taller than any regular 7th grader had the right to be, he strode with confidence down the hall, not minding the stares.
He wore black and gold Air Forces, white-speckled jeans, and black turtleneck with an odd gold smiley sown on the front. His hair was brown and untidy in a way that seemed refined (?) and his piercing gold eyes gave him a clear distinction from the rest of the crowd.
Just then, the obnoxious noise she had heard once before returned. Sandals clopping on the floor as a short girl in an obnoxiously bright red sweatshirt obnoxiously . . . leaped on top of the new kid?
Nami gawked at the girl (the annoying one from before!) who was now clinging to the poor new guy’s neck.
“I was going to tell you-” Vivi began, smirking uncharacteristically. “That ‘annoying girl’ is one of the transfers I was telling you about. Her name is Luffy, and he’s Trafalgar Law. And you’re in charge of their orientation.” Nami groaned, slumping against the lockers.
She had only signed up for giving tours because it would make her look sympathetic- something she struggled to be. These two were going to cause her a huge headache, and she knew it.
________
“They’re definitely not like I thought they were,” Nami reflected, her eyes flickering over to the students she was in charge of. Walking side by side, they actually (somewhat) listened to what she said.
But they had been speaking in another language this entire time. It sounded like Spanish, and she had caught a few words, but then it changed to something similar. Portuguese? She didn’t know and she didn’t bother answering.
“You two are completely fluent in English, right?” Nami asked as they passed the ESOL hallway. Luffy tilted her head at the ginger as they walked down the hall for a few seconds in silence.
“Yea . . . why?” The energetic buffoon trailed her fingers against the empty cream plaster walls as they turned the corner to the art hallway.
“Just making sure. We just passed the ESOL hallway.” Nami shrugged, it was her job to ensure they got everything they needed after all. She may be uncaring, but she wasn’t about to leave a job done half-hazardly.
“ESOL?” Trafalgar asked, his gold eyes staring into her soul. She might have thought him interesting at first, but the guy was just creeping her out now.
“English Speakers of Other Languages,” Nami answered, remembering the acronym correctly. Vivi used to go to that class in elementary school- even though her English was more impeccable than Nami’s.
“I mean, English is my fourth language,” Luffy offered, this time sitting on the railing of a ramp, and sliding to the bottom. Nami stared at her.
“Fourth?!” she exclaimed, hoping to get an explanation.
“Yup,” Luffy nodded, “My hometown -Amealaco -speaks Spanish. Torao lived in Nova Lima in Brazil, where they speak Portuguese. We used to live in the Cajun Prairie near Krotz Springs where a Japanese gang ruled- so we learned Japanese.” Nami assumed Trafalgar was this ‘Torao’, and he was giving Luffy a look. She glanced up at him and gave him a full smile instead of apologizing.
“Wow . . . um . . sounds great?” Nami stuttered, struggling to find words. That was oddly specific. Brazil and Mexico?? She had thought they were siblings, but that explained the lack of similarity in appearance and personality.
She wasn’t even going to think about the Japanese gang in the prairies. That HAD to be a lie.
But from her small time with the petite girl, she got a feeling that she had confidence- and more importantly - integrity.
Nami didn’t think Luffy could (or would) lie about anything.
“This is the art hallway. On your right is 7th Grade and the left is 8th. Do yourself a favor and skip 7th . . .”
______
Nami’s eyes twitched. What was wrong with these two?
It was only lunch time, and the long table at lunch was already packed with people Luffy had made friends with. Vivi sat by her side, quietly munching on her carrots while patting Nami on the back.
Luffy and Trafalgar sat at the head of the overcrowded table. As their guide, Nami sat on the right side of them with Vivi so they wouldn’t have to sit alone. But apparently that wasn’t a problem.
“Hey Moldy!” Luffy shouted, a half eaten piece of beef jerky still in her mouth. Nami gagged.
“It’s Zoro,” the kid responded, his shoulders protectively hunched over his onigiri, glaring at the young girl from underneath his black hoodie. Luffy laughed uproariously.
“Zoro then! You seem cool. Do you have a sword?” She beamed at him before tearing off another piece of jerky. Zoro seemed startled, the black hood falling off his head as he straightened.
Wow.
And Nami had thought Vivi’s hair stood out.
“How’d you know that, brat?” the green haired boy bit back, his mouth full of rice. Luffy laughed again, taking out a container of cookies.
“Dunno! Like I said, you looked cool. Can you use it?” She bit into the oreo, crumbs trailing on her lips. Nami desperately wanted to give her a napkin.
Zoro’s eyes twitched.
“Yeah, I can. I’m in a kendo class outside of school, but when I get up to highschool I’ll be the captain of the kendo club.” He seemed determined, glaring at her before sipping miso soup from his thermos.
“Wow!! Hey did you know Torao also has a katana?? Her name is Kikoku.” Luffy’s excited hands almost hit Law’s onigiri, and he glared at her. Zoro stared at the freakishly tall kid.
“Really? Where’d you get yours? I brought mine over when I moved from Japan. It was a real struggle at customs and immigration.” Zoro snorted, recalling the annoying specific security at USCIS. Law raised an eyebrow at that before responding.
“Luffy-ya and I used to live near the Krotz Springs- The Yamaguchi-gumi had a few descendents of blade makers and they owed me. So they made me Kikoku,” Law recited, as if recalling the fear in the yakuza's eyes as he demanded recompense for his mercy. Nami shivered at the thought.
Zoro stared at him, mouth slightly agape in shock.
“The Yamaguchi-gumi- the most infamous yakuza in the United States and Japan combined???” Zoro demanded, still in disbelief.
“Are they that popular?” Luffy mused, gulping water from her yellow water bottle.
“I thought they roamed California and Hawaii, not the boonies,” the kendo practitioner spat. How could these odd looking kids have the Yamaguchi-gumi indebted to them?
“Small branch,” Trafalgar replied, handing a napkin to Luffy. Nami internally thanked him. “Only about a thousand members throughout Texas,” he continued, watching the girl viciously attack the bottom half of her face with the paper napkin.
“Huh. Good to know,” Zoro huffed, going back to stuffing his face with onigiri.
“Wait,” said another kid with curly black hair and an awkwardly long nose. “You two lived in Texas!? That’s where my mom was from! I love it there!” He grinned, his heap of hair bobbing around as he spoke energetically.
“Yes, I adored the mutant insects, suffocating heat, and the highest crime rate in the country.” Law said sarastically, drawling out the words with a drab look on his face.
The kid (Usopp, she remembers) shrunk back before scowling at him. Nami smirked. The guy was easily intimidated, but she couldn’t really blame him.
“Shishishishi! Torao, you know that’s not true. The big flies are easier to catch, the pools are open longer, and crime makes everything more exciting! And you always said you liked the sunflowers that grow everywhere there,” Luffy grinned, taking out her last tupperware in her tote bag of food.
Trafalgar only shrugged in response, while Nami dragged a hand down her face. Only this insane girl would think crime makes things more exciting.
Luffy scowled. Her last Tupperware was full of cut carrots and cucumbers.
“What's wrong my cutsey Luffy?” A blonde guy asked, his blonde hair swept over one eye. Nami cringed at the sentence and noticed how Zoro and Law threw him a look.
“I don't like vegetables . . .” Luffy whimpered, pouting as she stared at the produce. Trafalgar rolled his eyes.
“Hey! No request from a lady deserves an eye roll!” the blondie snapped, almost threatening Law. Trafalgar decidedly ignored him.
“Do you want Ranch or Tajin?” the moody teen asked, taking the options out of his own regular-sized lunch bag.
Luffy beamed at him.
“Tajin of course! Silly Torao, why would I want ranch?” she giggled, throwing her arms around him before snatching the seasoning. She poured an excessive amount of the red flakes on her vegetables before snacking on them.
“So Sanji, du youb lihe couking?” Luffy asked, her mouth full of cucumber slathered in spices. Sanji reacted similarly to Zoro, and stared at her for a few seconds before turning back to his pesto buccatini.
“I do. I still need a lot of practice but it’s one of my favourite things to do,” he said, picking up his fork and stabbing it into the pasta.
Luffy cheered loudly, almost choking on the cucumber in her mouth before Law handed her the metal waterbottle. She chugged what must have been half of the bottle before clearing her throat loudly.
“If we become friends Sanji, will you cook for me?” the engimatic teen prodded, smiling at him widley.
Sanji looked back, and returned the smile.
“Of course,” he replied.
And so the odd group of preteens joined together under the cafeteria roof of Nami’s Junior High.
Ganada High School will never know what hit ‘em.
_________ word count: 1878/2811