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The year Nami turned eight, a devastating drought swept through the Conomi Islands. She spent most of that summer helping prune dead branches, carefully rationing what little clean water they had, and praying that the tangerine grove would pull through. The first rainfall of autumn, after months of heat so dry every breath made her throat feel like a furnace, brought the whole town out to celebrate. Nami remembers the pinwheel in Genzo's hat spinning wildly through the air as he spun her around the square during the storm. A few days later, Bellemere's shout beckoned them out of the house and into the trees to find hard-won buds finally peeking out among the parched boughs. The first harvest in October was much smaller than usual, but it yielded some of the sweetest tangerines Nami had ever tasted.
That's how it feels in the Flower Capital now, like the first true sign of life blossoming forth after so long without the faintest hint of fresh water. Nami has long since lost count of the days they've been celebrating, but her crew has been part of enough festivities over the years that she doesn't worry about the passage of time anymore. The party will end when the party ends. In the meantime, it feels good and right and natural to join everyone pouring into the city to make merry. Doesn't hurt that all the alcohol is free, either.
Nami loves drinking with the other Straw Hats, of course — but there's something special about this too, wandering the streets on her own without a care in the world, clinking glasses with passersby, letting the happy rumble of the crowd wash over her. Every place they go is a little different, enough to keep that spark of curiosity alive. In Wano, sake is the beverage of choice, everyone is dressed in beautiful yukata, and some of the townsfolk from Kuri take it upon themselves to teach Nami how the locals dance when there's something worth celebrating. By the time Nami pushes her way through the entrance of the next bar and spots the familiar head of curly hair, her feet ache and her cheeks are sore from laughing.
Ikkaku's nursing a cup of sake at the counter. Her hat's lying forgotten on the smooth wood next to her drink, and the top half of her boiler suit is unzipped and pushed around her hips to reveal a thin tank top. Even dressed down, she's the calm at the center of the ongoing revelry. There's an empty seat next to her; Nami pushes her bangs out of her sweaty face and makes a beeline for it. She hasn't had much opportunity to speak to Law's crew since they last saw each other on Zou, what with Sanji getting kidnapped and then the imminent threat of the Beast Pirates breathing down their necks, but a part of her already feels like she knows Ikkaku anyway. Only so many women choose to live on ships like theirs, after all. It takes… a certain personality.
As Nami approaches, Ikkaku waves her empty glass at the bartender. Nami pauses briefly to swipe two drinks off a platter floating through the crowd and breezes over before Ikkaku can even put her cup back down. "Need some company?" Nami asks, leaning against the bar to take some of the weight off her tired calves.
Ikkaku's surprised expression melts into a small smile of recognition. "Only if you're buying," she says, and Nami feels herself relaxing into the moment. A woman after her own heart, indeed.
"Dear, sweet Ikkaku," she sighs, an answering grin spreading across her face. "Trust me, neither of us will be paying a single coin tonight." She clinks their glasses together. "It's not like any of the money we have is worth much here."
Ikkaku makes a low hum of acknowledgement. "That's true." She lifts her glass and takes a delicate sip before tilting her head slyly. "Thanks for the drink. I wasn't sure you even knew my name, to be honest."
"Of course I know your name," Nami says, scrunching her nose. "A little birdie told me you were against our alliance at first."
To her credit, Ikkaku doesn't refute it. "Your crew isn't exactly known for making the most tactical decisions," she points out, voice dry. "Or following plans."
Nami laughs. "You're not wrong." She pretends to wipe a tear from her eye and shakes her head solemnly. "I try my best, but you can only do so much when hotheads like Luffy and Zoro keep running around looking for fights all the time. Which reminds me — I haven't thanked you yet."
A raised eyebrow. "What for?"
"Saving our captain from drowning," Nami replies. "You were on the Polar Tang when Kaido knocked him into the water, weren't you?"
Ikkaku huffs. "Well, yes," she says, "but there's no need for gratitude. That kind of thing tends to happen to our captain, too, so we're used to fishing people out." A pause, and then, rueful: "Our crews are more similar than I used to think. You're good allies to have."
"We couldn't have done it without you," Nami says, patting her shoulder. Warmth glows in her chest when Ikkaku leans into the motion, loose curls tickling the back of Nami's hand.
Nami hasn't really been able to consciously indulge in the pleasure of physical touch, let alone entertain the thought of welcoming someone into her bed, for longer than she'd care to admit. It would be foolish to ignore the spark in Ikakku's gaze, the open slant of her body, the heady weight of her regard.
As if to punctuate the feeling, the biwa player in the corner of the room transitions into a livelier song. It sounds familiar, somehow, and it only takes her a moment to realize why; Nami wouldn't be surprised if Brook's been spreading his influence far and wide across Wano. Happy revelers immediately begin congregating in the middle of the bar, moving along to the beat. Nami downs the last of her sake and loops their arms together. "Enough talk, honey. Let's go dance."
Ikkaku's eyes widen in consternation; her gaze darts towards the mass of people starting to move on the dance floor and then back to Nami again. "I don't know how."
"I just learned it a few hours ago myself," Nami says breezily. She tugs hard enough that Ikkaku slides off the barstool, the heat of her body pressing pleasantly into Nami's side. "There's nothing to it. You'll pick up the steps in no time."
The ocean of people parts before them, and Nami whirls Ikkaku into the fray. It's a wonder that they don't get separated in the initial rush, but Nami makes sure to lace their fingers together and keep a tight grip until they can make enough room to dance comfortably. Ikkaku does learn quickly, mimicking the stomping steps as everyone marches in time with the frenetic pace of the biwa. Nami laughs in delight when Ikkaku lifts her arms in the air and shimmies along to the music, skin shiny with sweat. There are so many parts of this that Nami loves — their torsos listing together in perfect tandem, the heat rising off them in rolling waves, the free-flowing sake that follows them around the dance floor — but nothing beats the thrill of anticipation. Nothing beats knowing exactly how the night is going to end and being able to just enjoy the ride there.
When the fireworks start going off, the crowd pours out of the bar and carries them onto the street. Ikkaku's hand stays tucked in hers as they crane their necks up to watch the explosions in the sky. The giant bonsai at the center of the city rises above the other buildings; the palace looks beautiful lit up by the brilliant colors. It's no tangerine grove; this is a very different tree in a very different place, but it makes Nami's heart sing all the same.
"Have you been to the palace yet?" Nami asks over the steady crackle of the fireworks. The itch beneath her skin is starting to crescendo, and she starts tugging them toward the bonsai.
Ikkaku shakes her head. "We've been staying on our ship," she replies.
"Oh, it's a real treat," Nami says, mouth lifting into a smile. "The baths are especially magnificent."
"That so?" Ikkaku's voice cracks a little around the question, a low rasp that shoots straight to the pit of Nami's stomach.
"Don't believe me?" Nami says, picking up speed. "I'll show you."
By the time they've slipped past the skeleton crew guarding the front gate, Nami's heart is beating in her throat. A closer firework erupts directly overhead, and Ikkaku takes advantage of Nami's momentary distraction to tug them to a halt and slant their mouths together. She tastes like the smooth sweetness of the sake they've been drinking all night, and the slide of her tongue steals all the breath right out of Nami's lungs. Her whole body relaxes into the kiss, as if to say, finally.
When they break apart, Nami's yukata is askew and her lips are tingling. Ikkaku's face flushes a pretty pink as Nami squeezes her hand and says, "C'mon, honey. My room is right this way."
They meander down the hall, trading kisses with increasing urgency, only separating so that Nami can push open the sliding doors. Ikkaku lets out a low whistle as they step inside. "You get this all to yourself?"
"Come visit anytime," Nami says, voice full of promise, and then they're kissing again, pressed so tightly against each other that Nami can't help losing herself in the feeling. Somehow they manage to shed their clothes and make their way through the far archway without tripping over anything.
The women's baths are situated in the center of their wing of the palace; all of the sleeping quarters open up into the heated room. It's lucky that no one else is here, too busy watching the fireworks outside or partying with the rest of the city. Ikkaku's gaze flickers toward the giant roots twisting up around them to form the roof above; she spares a moment to admire them, free palm ghosting over the wood. "This is gorgeous," she says, breathy, and flushes even pinker when Nami says, "So are you," without a hint of artifice. She's always loved pretty, shiny things, and Ikkaku sparkles like the finest diamond in the flickering light.
Nami tugs them toward the shallow pool, and they slide in together, legs intertwining below the gentle waves. She loses track of time as they move against each other. Steam heats them up from the outside in, and desire does the same from the inside out. At one point Ikkaku presses her open mouth to the tattoo on Nami's arm and Nami shudders, a sigh reverberating between their bodies. Ikkaku doesn't have any tattoos, but there are faint scars along her ribcage and across her back. Nami doesn't need to know the tale behind each one to appreciate the history etched into her skin, the permanent mark of adventure.
Ikkaku comes first, Nami's fingers twisting up inside her, reaching and spreading as far as she can, drinking in the long moan that pours out of Ikkaku's mouth. Then Nami clamps her legs and rides the firm, smooth line of Ikkaku's thigh, gasping through the delicious friction. Ikkaku's arms clasp around her back to keep her close. Her mouth brushes along Nami's neck and her collarbone and the tops of her breasts, little bursts of pleasure to accompany the building pressure spreading out from her stomach.
It doesn't take long after that, not when Ikkaku lifts her head and flicks her tongue against the shell of Nami's ear. Nami sucks in a long breath and tucks her face into Ikkaku's hair to muffle her sharp cry as she reaches the apex of her climax, clamped so tightly around Ikkaku's thigh that her toes tingle.
The comedown swirls between them, hot and heavy. Ikkaku squirms when Nami slides a languid hand between her legs again, gasping at every teasing touch until she's shaking through another orgasm, head tossed back against the edge of the pool. They hold each other as they catch their breaths, skin pruning in the water, and only scurry back into Nami's room when they start to hear vague signs of life from other parts of the palace.
"As tempting as it is to stay soaking in the bath, I'd rather not give anyone a free show," Nami says, rubbing her hair dry with a towel.
Ikkaku, unabashedly naked and leaned back against one of the pillows, sends her an amused look. "Cash payments only?" she asks.
Nami grins toothily and strikes a pose on the futon. "You know me too well."
Ikkaku considers this for a moment, lips pursed as her eyes sweep across Nami's prone body, and raises her eyebrows. "I'll count myself one of the lucky ones, then."
"My dear, sweet Ikkaku," Nami hums, reaching out to reel her back in, "you can count yourself lucky any time that you like." Ikkaku rolls close, soft curls tickling Nami's collarbone, and smiles into the next kiss.